#reader requests

[reader-from-nowhere]

May I get some driftrod beans in this trying time?

God I love driftrod sm especially when their relationship starts when they were still Deadlock n Hot Rod

This is them in my head

[badkitty3000]

Every Breath You Take

Part Two of Don't Stand So Close To Me

Five had his chance, but he couldn't give you want you wanted, which was more than just meaningless sex. You weren't going to wait around for him forever, so you decided to preserve your dignity and leave him alone. But Five soon realized that he didn't like being ignored by you. He didn't like it one bit.

Five Hargreeves x Female Reader Insert, 7k words, One-shot, reader request, sequel

Warnings: Explicit sex, rough sex, soft Five

He had you pinned against the wall. His hard body was pressed against you as he held you up, his fingers digging painfully into your thighs. The dishes in the nearby kitchen cabinets were rattling as he went at you harder. His quiet grunts matched the rhythm of his shamelessly desperate fucking.

He was breathing loud and fast, his chest heaving and glistening with sweat as his piercing eyes met yours. You clung to him, moaning and begging for more. He would give you whatever you wanted. But he wasn’t going to be gentle about it.

When he kissed you, you could feel his true intentions. He wanted you to notice him. To see him for who he really was. And you did. You had told him so, plainly and to his face, but apparently that wasn’t enough. Because despite this being the fourth little rendezvous of yours, he wasn’t letting you in.

You leaned in, caressing the back of his neck while quietly moaning his name. Your mouth pressed against the underside of his jaw, the salt of his skin coating your lips. You trailed them down the side of his neck, softly. You felt him falter. He stopped, holding you still, and he let out a soft sigh. It didn’t last long.

“Stop it,” he told you harshly. The undercurrent of panic was palpable.

“Why?” you breathed out, warming the crook of his neck.

“I don’t know,” he said in a rare moment of honesty. “Just don’t.”

It was there… just a tiny little crack in the nearly impenetrable wall that he had built around himself. Barely visible. Almost enough for you to slither into, but not quite.

He continued to fuck you, each angry thrust harder than the last, punctuated with deep kisses that he tolerated because they were on his terms.

When you came, loudly and startlingly, he watched your face until he couldn’t hold back any longer and you were both trembling and panting.

Afterwards, when he let your feet back on the ground and you got your bearings again, he was still holding onto your waist. You pressed your forehead to his damp shoulder. When you lifted your head, you smiled, feeling satisfied. He wore his usual expression of worry and regret.

“What’s the matter?” you asked, somewhat irritated since you already knew the answer.

“I don’t think we should–”

You didn’t let him finish before you were letting out an exasperated sigh. “Five, I really thought we were past this by now.”

He shook his head and looked at the floor. “I know.”

Against your better judgment, you placed a hand on the side of his face. “Just let me in. You can’t even decide if you like me or not if you won’t even talk to me.”

Five stepped away, grabbing his boxers off the floor and tugging them on. “I talk to you.”

You laughed and started pulling on your own clothes that were scattered around. “Ok, yes, you do talk to me. But only when I force you to or hunt you down. And you never tell me anything important.”

A brief smile flickered over Five’s face. “Hate to break it to you, honey, but I don’t have much to tell.”

“Bullshit.”

Five stepped into his pants, zipping them up before pushing his hair off his face. “What about you? I don’t see you spilling your guts, either.”

“Maybe that’s because it’s hard to talk when you’re shoving your dick down my throat two minutes after you open your door.”

He looked momentarily scared, but then he gave a snort of derision. “I thought that was what you wanted.”

“I do. Doesn’t mean you can’t still enjoy my company. Doesn’t mean you can’t come find me once in a while. I’m not going to keep chasing after you, Five. I don’t care how much I want you.”

He was visibly taken aback. Not by your threat but by the fact that you said you wanted him.

He tucked his hands into his pockets. “I never asked you to chase me. In fact, I distinctly remember telling you to leave me alone.”

“And yet here I am,” you said snarkily, gesturing to the room around you. “Again. When we both know there’s no way in hell you would have let me in if you didn’t want me, too.”

He didn’t seem to have an answer for that. Your body softened a little and you pulled your shirt over your head. Then you approached him, taking one hand out of his pocket and holding it in yours. Shockingly, he let you.

“The sex is good, Five. Really good. But I can get good sex from someone else. What I want is you. The real you.” You could feel his body tensing again. You tentatively closed the gap between you, leaning in so that your mouth brushed his cheek. “You’re more than this. Show me.”

He flinched, pulling his head back. “You’re a kid.”

You exhaled loudly and rolled your eyes, dropping his hand. “Fuck, this again? Give it a rest, Five. I don’t really give a shit about the age thing.”

“Maybe I do.”

You shook your head. “No you don’t. You just think you do because at some point you decided that gave you morals. Which is total bullshit.”

“You know nothing about my morals,” Five said with a sneer.

“No, I don’t. Which is the whole point!” You stopped, took a breath, and put your hands on your hips. “Why is it such a bad thing that I want you to open up a little? Why are you fighting me so hard?”

He didn’t answer but you could already see that the tiny little crack you had made was sealing up again.

“I’m sorry,” he said tersely.

You nodded and gave a small smile while you looked at the floor. “You don’t have to be sorry, Five. Really, you don’t. And I’m not even mad.” You shrugged and grabbed your purse off the kitchen table. “Can’t say I didn’t try, though.”

On the way out the door, you looked back. “I’ll see you around, ok?”

Five nodded dumbly, still standing in the same spot. You shut the door behind you.

A week passed, and then two. Five went back to his normal routine. Coffee, job, coffee, home, eat, sleep, coffee… repeat every day with maybe a few additions here and there. Like drinking too much and jerking off. Those things didn’t have a set schedule.

He did his best to avoid you again, blinking in and out of his apartment as much as possible, staying away from stairwells and the communal mailboxes. His eyes would flit nervously towards your door when he walked past on his way to the garbage chute. He seemed to have a lot of garbage these days.

One time there was a knock at the door, late at night when he was watching TV. He had smiled to himself before cockily striding over to the door. When he answered it, however, it wasn’t you. Instead, a very tipsy, disheveled man hung onto the door frame and asked Five if Margaret was home. Five had slammed the door in the guy’s face.

Just like after the first time you had kissed him, despite his internal conflict, you had gotten the better of him. He found you creeping into his thoughts while doing mundane tasks. Once he had a dream about you, which proved you were sneaking into his subconscious, as well. The details of the dream had been hazy when Five woke up, but he knew it had entailed you softly moaning his name.

Your absence around his apartment had not gone unnoticed. After a while, he stopped actively trying to avoid you and made himself more visible around the building. He hung around the mailboxes much longer than was necessary, pretending to be engrossed in a flyer about an upcoming food drive, or a pre-approved credit card offering. Finally, on the third day of Five very graciously making himself known, he saw you on your way to the elevator as he was locking up his door.

You didn’t look over in his direction, which he thought was odd. In a moment of stupidity, Five blinked a few feet down the hallway, hoping you wouldn’t notice, and then walked casually the rest of the way to the elevator. The doors opened just as he arrived and you both walked inside.

You smiled at him. A nice, neighborly, polite smile. You were wearing running shorts and a tank top, which Five tried not to care about.

“Hello,” you said, as if you were greeting the mailman.

“Hey,” Five said, shoving his hands in his pockets and rocking back on his heels.

The elevator started making its way down.

“How have you been?” you asked, much too casually for Five’s liking.

“Fine. And you?”

You shrugged. Indifferent. “Good, thanks. It’s nice to see you again.”

Five nodded. “You too.”

You were silent for a while and then the elevator reached its destination. The doors opened and you walked out with a wave.

“Have a good day, Five!” you chirped, before setting out on your daily jog.

“You, too,” he answered. But you were already putting your earbuds in, so he doubted you heard him. What the hell was that? he thought bitterly.

After that interaction, Five started to have… feelings. He wasn’t sure what these feelings were, exactly, he just knew they were starting to consume him. He was used to being consumed with things. Obsessing over things. But usually those things had to do with the end of the world or impossible, supernatural physics that only he could comprehend. This was not that.

This was something raw and primal; eating him from the inside. And it was pissing him the fuck right off.

Now, instead of avoiding you or not avoiding you, he started to seek you out. He would catch you in the hall and engage in conversation, an act that he would have never stooped to before. You were never mean or catty, which you had every right to be. You didn’t ignore him or try to walk away. You were casual. Breezy. Passive.

Which was a thousand times worse.

“Are you doing ok?” you would ask, with a little head tilt.

She pities me, Five would think and he would cringe inside. “Yeah, doing fine. You know, the same,” he would say.

You would nod, understanding that yeah, things probably were the same.

Sometimes you chatted about the weather. One time you had laughed at something unintentionally funny that he had said and you touched his arm. Briefly, with just the tips of your fingers brushing against the fabric of his shirt, but he had felt every bit of it. He had thought maybe that was a cue. That you were starting to come around again. But then you said a cheerful goodbye and walked away.

On one occasion, when Five was coincidentally strolling past your end of the hall, he was stopped in his tracks. Ahead of him, right outside your apartment door, was a man. He looked to be in his twenties, with sandy blond hair that was combed neatly to the side, and a toned physique. His salmon-colored polo shirt showed off his prominent biceps. You were laughing at something the man had just said. His voice had a deep timber to it.

As Five approached cautiously, assessing the situation, you saw him and waved him over.

“Five, this is Tanner. He just moved in last week.”

Tanner? This guy’s name is Tanner? Give me a fucking break.

“He’s in… what did you say? 524? A floor below,” you continued to explain with a smile on your face.

What’s he doing on this floor then? You lost, Tanner? Can’t read the numbers on the elevator?

Tanner grinned handsomely and stuck out his hand. “Hey, nice to meet you.”

Five stared at the manicured hand for a beat too long before offering his own. He shook it firmly. Very firmly.

“Five.”

When he didn’t expand on that introduction, there was a moment of awkwardness, before you broke in again.

“So, Tanner and I were just talking about the roof party next week. Are you going?”

“What roof party?” Five asked, slightly harsher than he had intended.

You sighed. “Didn’t you get the tenant newsletter?”

“We have a tenant newsletter?” he asked, genuinely confused.

You giggled and Five liked the sound of it. He grinned. Then stupid Tanner butted in again.

“Well, I know I’ll be there.”

“Great,” Five said in a way that meant anything but great.

You cleared your throat. “You want to come, Five? It might be fun. You know… have some drinks. Maybe talk to some people? Be social for once?”

Five didn’t like the way Tanner was smiling his big stupid grin in his direction, and he didn’t really appreciate your insinuation, either.

Five smiled a wide, dangerous smile. “Sorry. I’m busy that night.”

“I didn’t even tell you what night it was,” you retorted.

“I’m busy every night, turns out,” Five said, eyes narrowing.

You rolled your eyes. “Ok. Well, if you can find the time in your very busy schedule, please join us. It will be nice to have you there.”

If there had been anything in your voice that suggested you actually wanted him there or that you were sad he wasn’t joining you, Five couldn’t detect it. You sounded polite. Indifferent.

Five stared at your lips and he was overcome by the horrible sensation that he just might grab you and kiss you, right there in the hallway, and he couldn't think of anything worse.

“Thanks, I’ll keep it in mind.” He looked at Tanner and nodded curtly.

“See you around,” Tanner replied as Five spun on his heel and strode back to his apartment.

See you around, Tanner. Hopefully in a body bag.

Five felt like he was going crazy. Which, let’s face it, he was no stranger to. He kept thinking about you. How you had tried… really tried… to get him to open up. Just a little. You hadn’t even wanted that much, really. Just a little something to prove he was the man you imagined him to be. Instead, he gave you nothing. Except an aching jaw and a marked up neck.

He had been close. When his eyes were closed and he kissed you, and he felt your body soften under his touch. When you had murmured his name against his throat and your fingers massaged the back of his neck. He almost cracked. Almost broke down and admitted to you that he wanted something more. Almost.

After that first time, when Five made you strip in the hallway, just to prove a point, and then you got the best of him, he was shook. At the time, he had thought maybe he would try and loosen up a little. But then the next day dawned, and along with it, all of his hang ups.

The truth was, neither of you knew the other that well. He had no idea what your favorite movie was, or where you grew up. He knew nothing about your family. And you knew nothing about his, except what was in the news. He didn’t even know what your place looked like. You could be the most annoying person on the planet, for all he knew. Although he doubted it.

But the fact that you had wanted to know him, even when he had given you no signs that there was anything in there worth knowing, was what was keeping him awake at night.

No one wanted to know him. Hell, even his own family kept their emotional distance most of the time. It wasn’t anyone’s fault. Five closed himself off; he knew that. But somehow you saw through him, which was baffling.

On the night of the building roof party, Five stayed home. He thought about just going out to a bar and hanging out there, but he knew you were up there. You and fucking Tanner.

So, he sat there, listening to the faint thump of the bass through the walls and the distant tinkle of laughter, and stewed.

He imagined that big dumb ape putting his arm around you. Telling you jokes and making you laugh. Getting you another drink from the bar until you were nice and tipsy. Five knew what you were like when you were tipsy, that much he did know about you. It did not help matters.

“Fuck,” Five whispered out loud to no one, hitting his thigh with his fist, as he sat slumped on his couch.

After a couple of his own drinks, Five started to imagine worse things. Like Tanner plowing you against a wall. Or in the elevator. Making you moan. Making you come.

By the time he heard the music stop upstairs and the party winding down, Five was a wreck. The only reason he hadn’t gone charging up there to drag you back downstairs like a caveman was because he knew it was all his doing. It was his fault you were with Tanner. But that didn’t make him any less angry.

He leaned his forehead against his door and listened. He heard the elevator doors open. He heard your voice. And then… he heard Tanner’s deep one mixing with yours.

He couldn’t make out the words, but you were laughing. The voices were fading quickly, which meant you were walking towards your apartment. Together.

Five balled up his fists. His teeth ground together. His nostrils flared.

He held it together for a good five minutes or so, just standing there, fuming, with one hand on the doorknob. Until he snapped.

Stalking down the hallway, his eyes dark with anger, Five arrived outside your door. He took a breath and raised his fist, but came short of knocking. He didn’t want to give Tanner any chance at an exit.

With one blink, he was standing in your living room. Five had never been inside your apartment before. He took a brief look around. The floor plan was identical to his, only with a much more homey appearance, with artwork on the walls and throw pillows on the couch. From the looks of it, you liked the color blue.

There was no one in the living room or the kitchen. Just as the horrible realization that you must have been in the bedroom sunk in, Five saw you. You were coming out of the bathroom with a plush, white robe tied around you. You jumped when you saw him.

“Five!” you screamed. “Jesus, what the fuck are you doing here?”

When he didn’t answer, just stood there staring, you continued.

“How did you even get… fuck, you blinked into my apartment? Are you insane?”

“Probably,” he answered through labored breaths.

You shook your head and pointed at the door. “Please leave.”

“No,” he said. “Where is he?”

“Who?”

“You know who. Tanner. I know he came home with you.”

Your eyebrows raised in surprise. “Five… I don’t know what the hell–”

“Yes. You. Do,” he fumed. “Is he in the bedroom?”

“Wow,” you breathed out angrily. “Not that it’s any of your goddamn business, but no. He’s not here.”

“Bullshit,” he spat out. “I heard him walk you home.”

“Yeah, he did. He walked me home and left. Not an uncommon thing to do for a woman alone at night,” you explained, folding your arms across your chest.

Five blanched. He was trying to figure out if he believed you. He had been so sure. All of those scenarios he had dreamt up in his mind had seemed so plausible.

“He’s really not here?”

“No.”

His entire body started to relax and he unclenched his fists. The muscles in his jaw softened for the first time all night.

“Why do you even care, Five?” you asked him wearily. “You made it very clear that you wanted nothing to do with me.”

“I know.”

“You had your chance. Many, actually.”

“I know that, too.”

You sighed. “So, what? You’re jealous now?”

“Jealousy doesn’t begin to cover it.”

You paused. “You didn’t want me, but no one else can have me? Is that it?”

Five stared you down and nodded slowly. “Yep.”

“Fuck you,” you spat out. “I’ve moved on.”

“Why?”

You blinked at his question. “Why? Because you rejected me, Five. You fucked me and then refused to acknowledge any feelings whatsoever.” You smiled ruefully. “And that’s ok. That’s who you are, I get it. But trying to pull anything remotely real out of you is exhausting. It just wasn’t worth the effort anymore.”

Five nodded thoughtfully. Then he looked you in the eyes. “I have issues, I admit it.”

“Well, good. Admittance is the first step. But I’m not going to be your therapist, Five.”

“I don’t want you to be my therapist.”

You threw your hands in the air again. “Then what do you want?! I don’t understand!”

“I want you,” he stated simply.

You scoffed. “It’s too late,” you said. But your voice broke a little and your eyes skirted away.

He took a step towards you but you didn’t move. Another step and another, until he was standing so close you could smell the scent of bourbon and faded after-shave. You could see the tiny speckles in his green eyes.

“Is it too late?” he asked.

You nodded, but your breath caught in your throat, giving you away.

“I’m sorry,” he said and for the first time ever, you saw some of that exterior actually crumble away. “I want to try.”

“Why me? There’s plenty of women out there that would be happy to let you try on them.”

He paused. “Because you dared to call me out. You never backed down, even when I was horrible to you. You aren’t afraid of me. That doesn’t happen very often. And if it does, it usually doesn’t end well for the other person.”

“It didn’t end well for me, either.”

Five brushed his thumb over your cheek. “I’m sorry.”

You nodded. “Thank you.”

He smiled softly. “Does that mean you’ll give me another shot?”

“What about the age thing? That gap’s not going to change, you know.”

“I’m working on making peace with that.”

He started to lean in but you put a hand on his chest and he stopped. “You have to give me something, Five. Or I can’t believe you.”

He paused and you could tell he was terrified. The silence stretched on until he finally spoke. “Yeah, alright.” He audibly swallowed. “I hate being alone,” he whispered. “I’m used to it, but that’s not the same thing. I hate it.”

Your mouth opened to praise or reassure him, but instead you answered with your own confession. “I’m scared of being invisible. That no one will ever remember me.”

Five nodded his head in understanding, but he didn't try to assuage your fears. Instead, he kissed you. And you let him.

It was the first time he’d ever kissed you without some inner war going on inside himself. He didn’t hold back but he didn't try to possess you either. It was deep and passionate, and you brought your arms up to wrap around his shoulders while he threaded his fingers through your hair.

His taste was familiar and his body was the same, but there was something different. There was more than just a crack in the wall now. An entire brick had been eroded away and you could see inside fully for the first time. You weren’t sure what was there, but it was bright and warm. Like rays of sunshine making their way out from behind a dark cloud. The cloud was still there. But now so was the sun.

Just as you were losing yourself to each other, a sharp rap at your door jolted the two of you apart. You still had your arms around him as you both looked over at the door.

“Who the fuck is that?” he asked.

You shrugged. “Beats me.”

Five let go of you, marching towards the offender, not bothering to ask you if he could answer your door. You figured there was going to be a lot of those types of moments going forward. Where he was going to take charge without your permission. You smiled to yourself, not exactly minding.

Five unlocked the deadbolt and opened the door. There stood Tanner with that playboy grin on his face. In his hand was a bottle of wine and two wine glasses.

“Hey, I figured if you were still up, we could continue the party in–”

His invitation was cut short as he realized it was not you he was talking to. Tanner blinked in confusion and then looked around him, as if he may have gotten the wrong apartment.

“Five?”

Five smiled back like the cat that got the cream. “Oh, hey Tanner, good to see you. What can I do for you?”

Tanner blinked again. Then he looked over Five’s shoulder at you and back to Five again. You were frozen, unable to speak. You just stood there, watching it all happen, with wide eyes and a mute mouth.

“Well, I… I wasn’t expecting you here, I guess,” Tanner stammered out, his annoyance starting to show through as he was finally starting to grasp the situation.

“Yeah, just kind of an impromptu visit, I guess you could say. We were just headed to bed, though, otherwise I’d invite you in.”

Tanner opened his mouth again, but Five intervened. He snatched the bottle of wine out of Tanner’s hand.

“Pinot grigio… perfect! Thanks, buddy,” Five snarked. “And thanks for stopping by.”

Then before poor Tanner could defend himself, or retrieve his bottle of wine, Five slammed the door directly in his dumbstruck face. Five flipped the deadbolt extra hard, just to make a point. He turned to face you, holding up the wine.

“Nice guy, that Tanner. He brought a gift.”

You didn’t say anything, but you brought your hand to your mouth in incredulity. Then you burst into laughter.

“Holy shit… Five… you’re terrible!” you chided between giggles.

Five gave a chuckle and he set the bottle on the coffee table. “I thought that had already been established.”

As your laughter started to die down, he sauntered back over to you. “Where were we?” he asked with a smirk.

“I think we were just going to bed,” you answered.

“Ah, yes,” he said, right before grabbing you and blinking you into your bedroom.

You were slammed against the wall as Five began to devour you, pinning your wrists above your head with both hands. You folded immediately, with no resistance.

“I’ll do my best, but I can’t promise I’ll be gentle,” he warned as his teeth scraped down your neck.

You moaned out loud and pushed your hips into him. “You know I don’t want gentle.”

A growl rose up from his chest as he sucked a red bruise on your shoulder, adorning it with a ring of his teeth marks.

“Here’s what I can promise,” he breathed out, holding your face firmly by grasping your chin. “If I see that living Ken doll hanging around you again, I’m not going to be so neighborly next time. Understand?”

You nodded with a small smile. “He’s kind of a jerk, anyway. He tried to touch my butt in the elevator.”

“Oh, he’s a dead man,” he hissed out between clenched teeth.

“Don’t worry, Five,” you said. “I only get naked in public for you.”

He let go of your face, but kept your wrists pinned to the wall. One corner of his mouth twitched up. “Let’s keep it that way. Or else a warning will have to be printed in the next tenant newsletter.”

“And what would it say?”

Five pressed himself against you, flattening you against the wall. His lips brushed against yours. “That you’re mine, and everyone else better stay the hell away,” he said, sending a shiver down your spine and a rush of warmth between your legs.

He kissed you again, in that same way that you had come to crave. His lips crashing against yours like he had limited time. Urgent and desperate.

He stopped again, searching your face. “I’m not fucking around. You wanted me to show myself to you, well this is it. When you are mine, you are mine. I won’t try to control you, but I also won’t share. I can’t help that.”

“I understand,” you said quietly, your chest heaving in anticipation. “And I’m ok with that.”

Five let out a long breath and closed his eyes, like he had finally relieved himself of a heavy burden he had been carrying. When he attacked you again, he didn’t stop. With one hand around your wrists over your head, his other ripped the belt off of your robe. He slipped his hand inside, his palm warm and smooth against your naked waist as he rested it there, just above your hip.

“Good girl, being ready for me,” he praised darkly next to your ear, before biting at your earlobe and shoving his knee between your thighs.

You gasped loudly, but it was cut off as his mouth covered yours again. All you could do was squirm against him as the hard bulge in his pants pressed against you.

“Do you know what you’ve been doing to me these last few weeks?” he asked in between ravenous kisses.

You whimpered as an answer, your head tipping back while he slammed his hips into you.

“I’ve been going insane,” he snarled.

Five let go of your wrists and shoved the robe off your body. You were left naked and exposed, your back flat against the wall, while Five boxed you in. Trapped.

His hand slipped between your legs, his fingers finding you already soaking wet for him. When he dragged them, slowly… lightly… through your slit, his eyes never left yours. You bit at your lower lip and writhed beneath his touch. When you tried to wrap your arms around his shoulders, he immediately withdrew. He grabbed your wrists and pinned them to your sides while you moaned pitifully.

“Not yet,” he warned you.

When he dropped to his knees, gazing up at you with a look so devastating you almost cried, he grabbed your hips in his hands. Having him kneeling before you, when it was usually the other way around, had you holding your breath.

He dove between your legs with no hesitation. The warmth of his mouth and the pressure of his tongue against your clit had you reeling and you let your head fall back against the wall with a shaky groan. You felt him smile against you before continuing to consume you, slowly and deliberately; bringing you to the edge before backing off again. He laughed when you bucked your hips into his face, prompting him to push you back against the wall and hold you there.

“Five,” you whined pitifully. “This is torture.”

“I know that, sweetheart,” he said, as if that were perfectly obvious.

When he licked a long, wet stripe over your clit with the flat of his tongue, you thought you were done for. But instead of giving you more, he stood up.

Panting loud and hard, you locked eyes with one another for just a moment, as if making sure you were both thinking the same thing. You must have been, because when you started to hurriedly unbutton Five’s shirt, he didn’t protest. He stiffened a little, you could see that, but he let you undress him. Another first.

When you tugged the sleeves off his arms and threw the shirt on the floor, you ran your hands down his firm chest. He didn’t back away or try to hold you down. He leaned in, bracing himself with a hand on the wall behind you.

He kissed you while his other arm wrapped around your waist and he drew you in with a hard jerk. His large bulge was pushing into your hip as he held you against him. You slid your palm over the straining crotch of his pants and he groaned into your mouth.

Five panted heavily and closed his eyes as you continued to rub your hand firmly over him. “Fuck,” he whispered. He opened his eyes and met yours. “On the bed,” he ordered gruffly.

Obeying, you crawled onto your double bed, leaning against the padded, fabric covered headboard. Your entire body; skin, muscles, blood, bones, had been ignited by Five. You were burning for him and you could hardly sit still.

Five was in no hurry. He took his time. Standing before you, with the most smug, casual smile on his face. He was loving the fact that you were dying for him. As you watched him, he never broke eye contact. When he unbuckled his belt and unzipped his fly, he did it methodically; enjoying your torment.

When he dropped his pants and boxers and stepped out of them, you sucked in a loud breath. You knew what was next. It was your turn to be on your knees. But just as you were about to move, Five shook his head.

“Uh-uh,” he said. “Stay right where you are.”

To your surprise, he climbed on the bed with you, on all fours, until he was hovering over you. He kissed you again, biting at your lips before pulling away. He gave you a crooked smile and looked from your face to the top of the headboard and back again.

“You’re going to need to hold onto something.”

You let out a short, quiet laugh but then you realized he wasn’t kidding. He was waiting for you to complete his instructions. What you really wanted to do was wrap your entire body around him. But he was withholding himself from being touched at the moment. With a smirk, you reached behind you and grabbed onto the top of the headboard.

Five nodded in appreciation before taking your hips and dragging your forcefully towards him as he kneeled on the bed between your legs. You squealed as your body jerked forwards, but you kept your hold on the headboard. He leaned over you, positioning himself at your entrance while he covered your hands with his own. Then, with another cocky smile, he slammed his cock inside you.

You cried out at the same time that he let out a loud groan. Your body was shoved back again, and you lifted your legs so that your thighs were around his hips. He looked down on you, his eyes closing blissfully before opening again. His hair hung in strands over his eyes, with his chest rapidly rising and falling.

While you both braced yourself with the headboard, Five began pounding into you. Each thrust moved your body back and forth, with his dick penetrating you roughly and fully each time. You couldn’t even moan or scream, you could only gasp or bite down on your bottom lip.

Five emitted soft, guttural noises from his throat, his eyes alternating from watching you intently and fluttering shut. His mouth hung open as he panted loudly.

“God, you are worth every second of the torment you have put me through,” Five hissed.

“Five, I didn’t–”

He slammed into you again, cutting your words off by making you whine. “I don’t care.” He was using all of his strength to fuck you as hard as possible. “Don’t ever fucking do that again.”

“Five,” you managed to get out in between gulps of air. “It’s so… oh god… you’re so…“ Your sentence trailed off before you could finish, your brain wasn’t even functioning properly.

He gave one more rough drive into you before stopping, his breath ragged. He smiled, teasingly. “So, what, honey? Tell me.”

You shook your head and licked your lips. Your arms were aching and your pussy stung from being stretched and fucked all to pieces. “So fucking good,” you rasped out. “Keep going.”

Five let out a quiet chuckle before letting go of the headboard, freeing your hands as well. You didn’t move because you weren’t sure what his game plan was. When he lowered himself, pressing his chest to yours and smoothing your hair gently with his hand, he kissed the side of your jaw.

He was still buried fully inside of you, but he switched from hard banging to rocking gently into you. He kissed your neck and cheeks, his dark hair softly grazing your face. You let go of the headboard and slowly moved your arms around him, placing your palms firmly against his back.

He didn’t object or make any comment, so you held him tighter. You brought your legs up around his waist and started to move your body with his. Five lifted his head, locking eyes with you. You tentatively placed a hand on the back of his neck, caressing it with your fingertips as you gazed into his eyes.

“Is this ok?” he asked, a look of genuine concern written on his face.

It wasn’t lost on you that he had never asked for permission before pounding violently into you every time. The intimacy was what made him ask for consent. You nodded with a small smile and he returned it with his own.

When he kissed you, it was the same passionate, desperate way he always kissed you, but his body wasn’t rigid and tense like he was in fight or flight mode. He relaxed into you. The muscles in his shoulders and back began to soften. He felt pliable, almost liquid, compared to how you had known him before.

His rhythm had slowed, but he was still fucking you raw and deeply; pushing his entire cock inside of you before pulling back and easing it in again. Each drag through your tight core had you on the edge again.

You broke away from his kisses, pressing your fingers into his shoulders and brushing your cheek against his.

“You don’t have to be alone if you don’t want to be, Five,” you whispered. “I’m here.”

He gave a small moan and pressed his face into the side of your neck. You felt him nod.

“You are not invisible,” he told you, his lips gliding over your skin. “And I sure as hell remember everything about you.” His forehead came to rest on yours, his eyes closing with a sigh.

You came simultaneously, with both of you clinging to the other while you cried out his name and he cursed in growls and hisses close to your ear. He was shaking and trembling in your arms, the muscles that had just been softening under your touch seizing up again and spasming against you.

When you loosened your legs from around his waist and Five pulled out, he was breathing hard and fast. He gave you another kiss before collapsing next to you. After another minute of trying to catch your breath, you realized he had not said anything or looked you in the eye again. He was still there, his body touching you, but you could feel him changing again. Not like before, when it was immediate regret and self-loathing. More like confusion. He was paralyzed with uncertainty.

Five didn’t protest, though, when you took his hand and pulled his arm over your side and around to your front, your back flush with his chest. You threaded your fingers through his as he molded his body to yours. You were both damp and sticky with sweat and cum, but it didn’t matter. After a few moments, you felt Five press his face into your hair.

“I don’t know how to do this part,” he said softly with a small laugh.

“That’s ok,” you answered, bringing his hand up and kissing his knuckles. “I do.”

There was a pause and he shifted a bit behind you.

“So… what? We just lie here like this?”

You giggled. “Yeah, that’s the idea. Why? You got somewhere else to be?”

Five snorted. “No.”

“I promise I won’t keep you hostage. Just… relax for a minute.”

Your thumb rubbed back and forth across the back of his hand. After a minute, he kissed your shoulder. “This is kind of nice.”

“See?”

Another few minutes went by without either of you speaking. Five inhaled the scent of your hair and you traced your fingers over his arms. When you felt his breathing become slower and deeper behind you, you whispered to him.

“Are you falling asleep back there?”

“Hmm? No,” he slurred.

You smiled and loosened your grip on his hand, inching away. His arm dragged reluctantly off of you. He started to sit up, but you patted his shoulder.

“No, stay. Just hang on a second.”

Five looked hesitant, but he let you pull back the covers on the bed and he moved over so he could make room for you. Then you turned out the light on the nightstand and curled up against him. This time, he pulled you in with no prompting, wrapping his arms around you while you laid your head on his chest. You let out a long, contented sigh and he kissed your temple.

“Is this going to be weird in the morning?” he asked sincerely.

“I don’t know,” you said honestly. “I don’t think so, though.”

Five was thoughtful for a second and then he raised your face up with a hand on your chin and kissed you softly. He traced his fingers lightly down your cheek. “You really must have made me crazy, because I don’t think it will be either.”

You kissed him again before snuggling deeper into his arms while he stroked your hair. Five laid there, listening to the sound of your breathing and felt himself starting to drift off again. Before he fell asleep, he thought about everything he wanted to know about you. In the morning he would start with breakfast foods. Did you like pancakes or eggs? Coffee or tea? Once he knew, he would make them for you. That seemed like a good start.

Then you two would go from there.

Tag list: @meowiemari, @fanficwriter5, @b4tm4nn, @transboifelix, @lovingyeet, @iluvvvcatss, @anneeet, @tuanputri-magui, @terminateaparty, @voteforevilthoughts, @unknown-axxount, @fivehargreevesnumber1fan, @iselinde, @mgrhg, @little-forest-goblin, @marieett, @jana0509, @moonkitty59, @elovestowrite, @spark111333, @foxmuldeer

[mikoyamisheadcanonblog]

May I please request a scenario with Yandere katakuri,loki and King from one piece where the reader is too scared of them to try escaping or running away

Another Yandere request I keep getting those, I wonder why. This was a lot of fun to write.

🍩Katakuri🍩

Word Count: 193

Running away wasn’t an option, you had long given up on running away the moment he captured you. He kept you in the mirror prison that only he and his sister Brûlée could access in a small house he created in way he thought you would enjoy. He kept telling you it was for safety…for your safety that he wouldn’t let you leave the mirror world. His family would hurt you, which was something he told you

You weren’t sure if what he said was true when usually he spoke so highly of his family when he visited.  Your conversation with him was usually silent, offering you special treats he brought you while silently stroking your head. You felt like his pet, a pet that couldn’t escape from him.

“My good little pet,” he told you, “We will start our own family soon,” he often would talk about starting a family with you. He wanted a huge family just like his own. You shivered at thought but stayed silent your head on his lap while he munched on the many snacks he brought you.  You would be his good little pet forever after.

⛓️Loki ⛓️

Word Count: 163

You watched horrified, you wanted to scream but you couldn’t, any sound you made would catch the giant’s attention. His tongue stuck out and he grinned wickedly as the fire was consuming your country. You could hear the screams of your people, your friends your family as the fire was growing larger, you stared at the monstruous giant who grinned at you his tongue still out.

“Mine,” were his only words. You could feel his eyes staring down at you, piercing your soul even if his helmet hid his eyes. “Mine,” he repeated.

You had made the foolish mistake of smiling at the giant bringing him to your island, showing him such kindness but rejecting his love. You were just being nice, and he fell in love, plucking a lone flower from the hill he brought you too. The same hill you had rejected him just this morning.

“Will you be mine?” he questioned again and this time you couldn’t refuse. You nodded solemnly.  You will be his.

👑 King👑

Word Count: 195

He kept you locked up, treated you more like an animal but he would “reward” you with special kisses when you obeyed him. And only every once in a while, would you be allowed to walk with him outside your cage.

You would stand there while he got your “ready” as he once described it with a satisfied smirk. His white hair failing over his face before giving you a simple kiss on your lips. He put the collar on you, tugging on it pushing you closer to him.  His eyes staring at you waiting for what you would say.

You knew better to say anything without his permission you couldn’t move till he gave you permission. If did anything that would displease him, he would lock you back in the cage. You couldn’t get away; you were trapped forever to be his plaything. You had long given up on running away and he smirked knowing he had broken you.

“Let’s go for a walk,” he tugged on your chain again and you began moving behind him. Before he stared at you once again “rewarding” you with a kiss. You just accepted, accepted your fate.

[alittlegiraffe]

If you‘re ever tasking requests: Could you maybe write something about them being at the studio and his boys like her very much and think she great for Marshall? (like Royce, Mr Porter, Paul)

I absolutes love your waiting🥰🥰🥰

Title: “Soft for Him”

The house was loud. The kind of loud that came with sports on the TV, beer in hand, and men shouting over each other like the game could hear them. You stayed mostly in the kitchen, humming softly as you arranged sliders on a tray, fingers brushing pink gingham that matched the little bow clipped in your hair. You didn’t need to dress up for this—it was just the guys—but you liked feeling put together. Pretty. Even if sometimes you wondered if you looked a little too out of place next to the world Marshall belonged to.

You didn’t fit the mold. Not the industry, not the scene. You weren’t bold, brash, or razor-sharp. You were soft-spoken, gentle, more prone to offering a plate of cookies than a snarky comeback. And sometimes, you’d catch one of his friends or crew giving you that look—the one that said, her? really?

You’d learned not to read too far into it. But still.

“Yo, where’s the—” Paul’s voice boomed into the kitchen before he caught himself, “Ah. There you are. Didn’t mean to scare you.”

You gave him a little smile. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah. Just came to grab more napkins.” He leaned on the counter, watching you for a second. “You holding up okay?”

“I’m good,” you nodded, glancing into the living room where Marshall was half-reclined on the couch, beer dangling in one hand, eyes on the screen—except they weren’t. He was watching you. His gaze soft, settled, like the whole party had faded behind him.

Paul followed your line of sight. Smirked. “You know he looks at you like that even when you’re not watching, right?”

You blinked, caught off guard. “Like what?”

“Like you’re the only person in the room. Like you’re some kind of peace he didn’t think he’d ever get.”

You looked down, brushing crumbs off your apron. “I don’t always feel like I fit, you know? Like I’m not his kind of person.”

Paul gave a low chuckle and began stacking paper plates. “You’re not. That’s kind of the point.”

You looked up.

“He’s all sharp edges and fire,” Paul said. “And you… you’re the soft place he lands. You don’t have to be loud to be good for him. Hell, he’s loud enough for the both of you.”

Your eyes stung a little. You turned to the sink under the guise of rinsing off a spoon.

Paul clapped your shoulder, gentle. “You’re good for him. Better than good. And he knows it.”

Later, when the house was quiet again and Marshall tugged you into his lap without a word, burying his face into the crook of your neck like he always did when he needed grounding, you thought maybe Paul was right.

You might not fit into the world on paper.

But you fit into his.

---

The kitchen was quieter now, though it still held the echoes of the evening—beer bottles clinking in the trash, the faint buzz of the game’s post-show commentary drifting from the living room, the low murmur of goodbyes and back-slaps as people filtered out the front door.

You were stacking dishes in the sink, sleeves rolled up, soft curls falling around your face as you worked, when a familiar voice behind you said, half-slurred:

“Yo. Where the hell are the cookies?”

You turned with a laugh. “Hi, Denaun. Not even a hello first?”

He grinned sheepishly and leaned against the doorframe, red Solo cup in hand. “I knew you made those cookies. I told Proof’s cousin, like, ‘watch—she probably made the good kind with the sea salt on top.’” He peered around you exaggeratedly. “Am I wrong?”

You grabbed the plate from the counter and held it up with a little curtsy. “Sea salt and all.”

“Yes!” He took one with the reverence of someone who’d just found gold. “You’re too good for this place. For him.”

You raised a brow, amused. “Is that your way of saying thank you?”

Denaun took a bite and groaned like it was a religious experience. “Nah, that’s my way of saying… listen. Marshall used to be a dick.”

You snorted, half-turning to rinse a bowl. “Used to be?”

“Okay, okay,” he conceded, laughing. “He’s still an asshole. But now? He’s, like… a better kind. A domesticated asshole. Like one of those angry raccoons that found a warm attic to live in.”

You pressed a hand to your mouth to stifle a laugh.

“I’m serious,” Denaun continued, now gesturing with half a cookie. “There was a time you couldn’t talk to him before noon without risking your life. Now he’s out here asking people if they want ‘another slider’ and keeping your pink dish towels folded. I saw him fold a towel earlier, swear to God.”

You shook your head, cheeks warm.

“He’s different,” Denaun said, tone softening just a touch. “Still him. Still angry at the world. But with you? It’s like the anger doesn’t own him anymore. You’re the calm in his storm, and I think he finally figured out that he needs that. Needs you.”

Before you could respond, Marshall’s voice cut in from the hallway. “You giving my wife a hard time, Denaun?”

“Just saying nice things, swear on my mama,” Denaun called back with a mouthful of cookie.

Marshall stepped into the doorway, one brow raised, arms crossed. “Better be. You mess with her, you mess with me.”

Denaun held up the cookie like a peace offering. “Tell her to make more of these and I’ll never speak ill of you again.”

You and Marshall locked eyes, and despite the tiredness in his face, he gave you that look again—that steady, quiet one that made your chest go warm.

Denaun wandered off, muttering something about stealing a Ziploc bag.

Marshall crossed to you and wrapped his arms around your waist from behind, chin resting on your shoulder. “Don’t listen to him.”

You leaned back into him. “I liked what he said.”

He kissed the curve of your neck. “Yeah? What part?”

You smiled. “The part where he called you domesticated.”

Marshall groaned. “Jesus.”

You turned in his arms and cupped his cheek. “Don’t worry. You’re still my asshole.”

He smirked and kissed you slow, sweet. “Damn right.”

Marshall’s lips were just about to meet yours—hands firm on your waist, his breath warm and steady—when the kitchen door swung open again.

“Yo!”

You both startled slightly, and Marshall groaned audibly, dropping his forehead against your shoulder as Royce burst in like he was announcing the second coming.

“Tell me Denaun’s not the only one getting cookies. That’s favoritism, and I know that’s not how this house runs.”

You couldn’t help it—you burst out laughing, gently pulling back from Marshall’s arms to grab the small blue-lid Tupperware you’d prepped just in case. You held it out to Royce like it was a peace treaty.

“Already packed. I know how you guys operate.”

Royce’s eyes widened like you’d handed him treasure. He took the container reverently, then looked at Marshall, utterly serious. “I get why you love her, man. She’s the best of us.”

Marshall snorted. “Don’t tell her that. She’s already impossible to live without.”

Too late—you were smiling, cheeks warm.

Royce turned on his heel with a gleeful, “Denaun! Suck it, I got mine pre-packed!” as he disappeared back down the hall.

Marshall sighed, deadpan. “Next time, we fake our deaths and move to Montana.”

You laughed, turning back to him. “With your friends? That wouldn’t stop them. They’d still show up like, ‘you got Wi-Fi? And snacks?’”

He shook his head with a chuckle, then slid his arms around you again, tucking you close. “You’re too good to them.”

“I’m good to you,” you said quietly.

That finally settled him. He leaned in again, slower this time, pressing a kiss to your mouth that was all gratitude and grounding.

And no one interrupted this time.

---

It took some convincing, a glass of water, and a very firm “You can either sleep in the guest room or I’m calling your mom” before Denaun finally flopped back onto the bed with a dramatic groan.

You tucked the blanket over him like he was a sulking teenager instead of a nearly six-foot grown man. “You’ll thank me in the morning.”

“Gonna steal your throw pillows,” he mumbled into the mattress.

“Fine. Just don’t puke on them.”

You turned off the lamp, pulling the door halfway shut behind you—and nearly bumped into Marshall, leaning on the doorframe with his arms crossed, wearing that unreadable half-smirk, half-melted look he always gave you when you did something that cracked him open a little.

“You enjoy bossing my friends around?” he asked, voice low, amused.

“I enjoy keeping them alive,” you said, brushing imaginary lint off your sundress.

Marshall reached for you, pulling you in without effort, tucking you into his side as the hallway dimmed behind you both. “You always this sweet to my friends, baby?” he murmured against the shell of your ear, lips trailing lower until they found that spot on your neck he knew made you sigh.

“Only the drunk ones,” you teased, smiling against the warmth blooming at the base of your throat.

He huffed a laugh, nose brushing your skin. “Lucky me, then.”

You walked together down the hall, his hand splayed warm and heavy on your hip, his body angled toward yours like even gravity favored pulling him closer.

“You’re really good at that, you know,” he said quietly, almost like it was a secret. “Taking care of people. Even the ones like him.”

“I like taking care of people,” you said. “Especially the ones who don’t always know how to ask for it.”

He hummed against your skin. “You sure you’re not too good for me?”

You stopped, turning to face him fully, your hands smoothing over his chest. “Maybe I’m just right for you.”

Marshall looked at you like you’d said something holy, and then his mouth was on yours again—deeper this time, slower, like he wanted to carve the truth of that into memory.

Behind you, Denaun let out a heroic snore that made the walls vibrate.

You both broke the kiss with a laugh, and Marshall grinned. “Guess we’re not getting much sleep tonight.”

You grinned back. “Speak for yourself. I packed the cookies and tucked in your drunk best friend. I’ve earned at least six hours.”

Marshall swept you into his arms anyway. “Fine. But I’m still making it hard.”

“You always do,” you giggled, as he carried you off toward your room.

---

By the time the bedroom door clicked shut behind you, your body felt like it had been wrung out and gently folded. The noise of the day had faded, leaving only the hum of the house and the low sound of Marshall moving behind you—setting his phone on the dresser, kicking off his shoes.

You were sitting on the edge of the bed, fingers working at the tie of your dress, when his hands came to rest gently on your shoulders.

“Let me,” he murmured.

You dropped your hands into your lap and let him take over. He undid the knot with slow, careful fingers, letting the soft fabric fall away from your frame like petals. There was no rush in him tonight—no teasing, no heat behind his touch—just that quiet kind of reverence that always caught you off guard. Like every part of you mattered. Like he saw you.

“You did a lot today,” he said, voice low as he leaned down to press a kiss to the curve of your shoulder. “Didn’t sit down once.”

“I’m okay,” you murmured, even though your legs ached and your back was tight and your eyes stung just a little.

He didn’t answer. Just helped you out of the rest of your clothes, his touch soft and patient, like he was unwrapping something precious. You lay back against the pillows and he tugged the blankets up around you, settling beside you without a word, arm curling protectively around your waist.

“Turn over,” he said gently.

You blinked at him. “What?”

“I’m giving you a massage. Don’t argue.”

You laughed, too tired to protest anyway, and rolled onto your stomach. A moment later, his hands were on you—firm, slow pressure working into your lower back, then gliding up your spine, his thumbs finding every knot and easing it out with practiced care.

You let out a soft sound as your body began to melt under his touch. He leaned down, brushing your hair aside to kiss the back of your neck.

“You do too much,” he whispered. “Always taking care of everyone else.”

“I like it,” you murmured into the pillow.

“I know you do,” he said. “That’s what makes you... you. But you don’t have to do it alone all the time.”

His hands slowed, resting against your shoulder blades. “You come in here, soft voice and pink dress, and you don’t even realize you’re the strongest one in the room.”

Your throat tightened at that, but before you could speak, he shifted beside you, curling you into his arms as he lay down, holding you close and warm against his chest.

“I got you now,” he said softly. “Let me take care of you for once.”

You didn’t answer—not with words. Just tucked your face into his chest, let yourself finally relax, and breathed him in.

And he stayed right there, one hand stroking lazy circles on your back, the other holding you steady—quiet, grounded, safe.

You weren’t sure how long you lay there in his arms, skin warm against his, wrapped in that stillness that only came with being completely known, completely safe. His hand never stopped moving—those slow, steady circles along your back that started out soothing but gradually dipped lower… brushing the curve of your hip, tracing the dip of your waist.

You sighed into him, soft and breathy, and you felt the way his body responded to the sound—his breath catching slightly, the arm around you tightening.

“You’re relaxed now,” he murmured, lips brushing your temple.

“Mhm.”

“I like you like this.”

His voice was low—rougher now, darker at the edges—and it made something in your stomach flutter. He shifted beside you, coaxing you gently onto your back, his eyes searching yours in the dim light.

“You sure you’re not too tired, baby?” he asked, fingers brushing your cheek.

You shook your head, already arching slightly into his touch. “Not with you.”

That was all he needed.

He kissed you slowly at first, like he was still handling something fragile—mouth soft, patient, coaxing. But when your fingers tangled in his shirt, pulling him closer, something shifted. The kiss deepened, his weight settling over you, hands sliding over your skin like he was relearning every inch.

“You take care of everyone else,” he whispered, his lips trailing down your neck, along your collarbone. “Tonight, I take care of you. No interruptions. No distractions.”

You gasped as his mouth found that tender place just beneath your jaw, his hand slipping beneath the blanket to trace the inside of your thigh. “Marshall…”

“Shh, baby. Just let me make you feel good.”

And you did.

You let him take his time—let him worship every part of you with his mouth, his hands, his voice murmuring soft praises against your skin. He moved like a man who knew what it meant to fall apart, and how to put someone back together again—slowly, reverently, with just the right amount of heat to remind you how deeply he loved you, how much of himself he’d always give to you.

By the time you were breathless and shaking beneath him, his name on your lips like a prayer, he kissed you again—forehead pressed to yours, the words “I got you” whispered again and again like a vow.

And in that moment, wrapped in his arms, you knew: the world could fall apart outside those walls.

But in here, you were home.

---

The morning light crept in slow, golden stripes through the blinds, brushing soft across the room. The scent of rain lingered faintly from the storm that rolled in sometime during the night, and somewhere down the hall, Denaun snored like a dying lawn mower.

You stirred beneath the sheets, sore in the sweetest way, skin still humming with memory. A warm arm was slung across your waist, and when you shifted, Marshall murmured low behind you.

“Mm. You movin’ already?”

You smiled sleepily, nestling back into the curve of his chest. “Trying to, but apparently I’m trapped.”

His voice was rough and lazy. “Damn right you are.”

His hand slid a little lower, fingers brushing along your hip possessively. You let out a soft laugh.

“Someone’s feeling smug.”

“You’re warm, you’re naked, and you moaned my name like a song last night,” he mumbled into your hair. “Course I’m smug.”

You reached back to swat at him, but he caught your hand easily, lacing your fingers with his and pressing a kiss to your knuckles.

“You sleep good?” he asked, voice gentler now.

You nodded. “Like a rock.”

He smiled against your shoulder. “Good. That was the goal.”

Just as you were melting into the quiet again, a knock sounded at the bedroom door—too enthusiastic, too familiar.

“Y’all decent?” came Denaun’s unmistakable voice. “Because I’m making coffee and I swear the cookies are gone and I’m suspicious.”

You groaned into the pillow. “He’s relentless.”

Marshall sighed, flopping dramatically onto his back. “I should’ve let him drive home drunk.”

You laughed and rolled over, leaning up on one elbow. “You love him.”

Marshall scowled half-heartedly. “I love you. Him? He’s like athlete’s foot. Won’t go away, mildly irritating, but you learn to live with it.”

You bit back a giggle, kissing the corner of his mouth. “Well, athlete’s foot made coffee. I’m gonna go make sure he doesn’t burn down the kitchen.”

He caught your wrist gently, looking up at you with that rare, unguarded softness.

“Hey.”

You met his eyes.

“Thank you. For yesterday. For last night.” His thumb traced a line along your wrist. “For being mine.”

You leaned down and kissed him, slow and lingering. “Always.”

And then you slipped from the bed, pulling on one of his shirts—the hem brushing your thighs—as you padded barefoot down the hall, laughter already rising in your chest at the sound of Denaun arguing with the coffee machine.

Marshall watched you go, head tipped against the pillow, a lazy smirk tugging at his mouth.

Yeah, he thought.

Always.

[harry-potter-reader-inserts]

HII how about golden trio x reader (platonic) with a slytherin reader who is actually super cute and sweet but they’re suprised cuz she’s in slytherin?

This is such a cute idea — the trio being so confused.

— The Sorting Hat put you in Slytherin. Somehow, the Golden Trio never got the memo.

The first time Hermione Granger noticed you, you were crouched in the corridor between Transfiguration and the Great Hall, coaxing a first-year Hufflepuff through quiet, steady tears.

Hermione had a habit of cataloguing things — a reflex from years of cross-referencing, double-checking, knowing. So she catalogued this: the silver-green of your tie, the patience in your voice, the way you didn't rush the girl even though the dinner bell had already rung.

Slytherin, her brain filed.

And then, because Hermione Granger was also fair when she remembered to be: interesting.

_____________

Harry met you on a Thursday afternoon in the library.

He was losing a silent war with a Charms essay, rubbing his scar out of habit rather than pain, when a small paper crane sailed across the aisle and landed squarely on his parchment. He unfolded it.

Flitwick wants specific examples from Rhadagast's commentary, not general theory. Third shelf from the left, blue spine.

He looked up. You were already reading again, tucked into the corner window seat like you'd always been there, a neat stack of books beside you and a constellation of Post-it notes marking each one. You glanced up, caught his stare, and gave him the most ordinary, friendly smile he'd received in recent memory — no awe, no wariness, no complicated history behind it.

He retrieved the book. The essay practically wrote itself.

He wanted to thank you. By the time he worked up the nerve to cross the library, you'd already gone, leaving behind nothing but a faint trace of cedar and a chair slightly too warm to have been empty long.

_____________

Ron had a more complicated introduction.

He'd been arguing with himself about the last treacle tart on the dessert platter — the unspoken rule being that the one who noticed it first had dibs, but he'd been distracted by a Quidditch debate and missed his window — when a plate appeared at his elbow.

He stared at it.

"You were looking at it the same way I look at a particularly good chess problem," you said pleasantly, settling back into your seat across the table. Slytherin table, he registered belatedly. You'd leaned all the way across to deposit a treacle tart at the Gryffindor table and were now looking at him like this was perfectly normal behavior. "I already had one. Seemed a waste to let it sit."

Ron blinked. "You — thanks?"

"Don't mention it." You smiled and returned to your conversation with a girl beside you, as though you hadn't just casually defied about four unspoken inter-house social codes without blinking.

He looked down at the tart. Then at you. Then at the tart again.

He mentioned it to Harry and Hermione within the hour.

_____________

They started noticing you everywhere after that, the way you only notice something once it's been pointed out and then you can't stop.

You holding the door for the portrait of a weeping woman and murmuring something that made her laugh. You returning a Hufflepuff's lost Transfiguration notes with color-coded tabs. You walking with a pack of first-years who'd gotten turned around on the moving staircases, cheerfully narrating the castle's bad habits like a tour guide who genuinely loved the material.

"She's in Slytherin," Ron said one evening, as if he kept needing to verify this out loud.

"We know, Ron," Hermione said.

"I'm just saying."

"You've been saying. For a week."

"Because it's strange!"

Hermione set her quill down with the particular precision that meant she was about to make a point. "Kindness in a Slytherin isn't strange. It's just less performed. They don't have the same incentive to be visibly good that we sometimes do."

Ron opened his mouth.

Hermione raised an eyebrow.

He closed it.

_____________

The proper introduction happened in Hogsmeade, during the first October visit, when you rounded a corner and walked directly into Harry — scattering his bag, his scarf, and three weeks' worth of bottled self-recrimination about a comment Professor Snape had made.

"Oh — I'm so sorry, here —"

You were already gathering his things before he'd finished processing what had happened, efficient and apologetic, handing back his bag and his scarf and — pausing with his copy of Quidditch Through the Ages, which had fallen open to a dog-eared page.

"This is a first edition," you said, not accusatory, just genuinely impressed. You turned it over in your hands with the careful reverence of someone who understood what books were worth.

"Yeah." Harry took it back, watching you. "My — a friend gave it to me."

Your expression shifted, briefly, into something quieter. "It's been loved," you said. "You can tell. The really good ones always have that. All soft at the spines."

Harry thought about Hagrid, enormous and gentle, pressing it into his hands at a birthday he hadn't expected anyone to remember. He thought about how he still carried it even though he'd read it so many times the words had worn smooth.

"Yeah," he said again, softer this time.

You smiled at him — that same uncomplicated smile from the library — and introduced yourself. Just your name. No house performance, no positioning, no careful calculation of whether Harry Potter was worth talking to.

He told Hermione and Ron about it that evening.

"I like her," Hermione said simply.

"Me too," said Harry.

Ron ate another treacle tart and said nothing, which in Ron Weasley's vocabulary meant agreed.

_____________

Friendship with you turned out to be quiet and easy in a way none of them had quite anticipated. You didn't make a project of them. You didn't treat Harry like a symbol or Hermione like competition or Ron like a sidekick.

You brought Harry books you thought he might like, left without fanfare, never asked for anything in return. You debated magical theory with Hermione with a focus and rigor she found genuinely satisfying, and you lost gracefully and won without crowing. You and Ron discovered a shared, passionate, deeply sincere appreciation for Quidditch statistics, and your arguments about the Chudley Cannons became a fixture of the Thursday lunch table.

Your Slytherin friends found the whole arrangement faintly baffling. The golden trio found it quietly wonderful.

The castle, if it had feelings about such things, probably approved.

You were, Harry thought one afternoon, watching you help a second-year with a Wingardium Leviosa that refused to cooperate — patient, steady, pleased when the feather finally rose — simply good. Not performing goodness for an audience. Not calculating the return on it.

Just good, the way some people were, green tie and all.

He thought that was probably the best kind.

[lazy4honey]

Hear me out, a guild team travel for a while and needs a place to stay and saw a house more like a butcher house with a ogre working in there and let them stay if, and this guild team just shock to see that a big ass guy bagged a human🙏🙏(bonus point if she's pregnant)

I feel like there’s a part of your request missing, so this might not exactly be as you envisioned… but I hope you like it!

A Promise For Life

Contains: past tense, afab!reader x male butcher ogre (it/its to he/him), more plot and emotion, wedding night, size difference, fingering, p in v, pregnancy, short description of intercourse while pregnant, 3.4k words, NSFW & MDNI

✧ Good to know: the word ‘ogre’ is originally derived from the Etruscan god Orcus, a chthonic deity and punisher of broken oaths.

Divider by @digilatte

The guild had recently bagged a big order from a neighboring town, so you and your team were sent on an escort mission. Unfortunately, you encountered bandits on the road and nearly lost your cargo, and while no lives were lost, most of you were still badly hurt.

So, battered and bruised and exhausted, you dragged yourselves along, until you spotted smoke rising in the distance. Both hopeful and apprehensive, the team advanced and finally reached a lone house. The scent of blood was heavy in the air, there was a pile of fresh bones lying by the door, including those of animals and those of humanoids, and all of you clearly heard something being chopped inside.

You gulped. By all means, this house screamed danger. But with your team leader unconscious and the rest wounded, what else could you do besides take a risk?

With all the courage you could muster, you pounded on the door.

The chopping stopped.

You could hear everyone holding their breaths, waiting for whatever lived here to open the door.

Muffled, heavy steps sounded from beyond the door, making the floorboards groan. Then after a moment of nerve wrecking silence, the door creaked open.

Your heart dropped.

Before you stood an ogre. Large, hairy, clad in nothing but a set of rough pants and a leather apron splattered with blood. Blood dripped from the gleaming cleaver in its big hand, slowly forming a dark crimson puddle.

Fuck.

You clenched your hand around the handle of your sword.

Your first instinct was to fight. The moment it showed hostility, you would attack the monster and kill it, even if it cost you your life. You and your team were in desperate need to a roof over your heads, so there was not much choice.

With a cold gaze, the ogre scanned you. Then it opened its mouth, a slow, rumbly voice pronouncing human words in a clearly unfamiliar manner, “Need something?"

One of your team members timidly stepped forwards, “We, we need a room..."

There was a long silence.

“One room?"

The team member sweated, “Well, two rooms would also be great, but we don’t want to impose our presence on you. If you don’t feel like it we can just leave right now and sleep under the trees, just let us stay nearby for a night or two and then we’ll be gone—"

“Exchange,” the ogre stated.

“Huh??"

It almost seemed like it sighed before slowly repeating, “Equal exchange. You, stay, I, get."

“You, you want us to give something for us to stay here?"

“That.” It nodded.

“Then what do you want in exchange? We can offer, can offer some silver? Or, or we give you some other supplies like clothes, or maybe you’d prefer for us to help with physical labor? Or, or..."

The ogre remained silent, so long that the team grew desperate.

“Please, name your price! We’ll give you whatever you want!"

It tilted its head. “Whatever, I, want?"

“Yes, yes, anything!"

“Anything?"

“Yes, really, anything!!"

It nodded and glanced over your team. A shiver ran down your spine as its eyes settled on you. “Her."

“What?! No! She’s not a thing!!” someone cried out.

“Shh, calm down!"

“We have no choice..."

“Do you want the team leader to die?!"

“But—!"

You frowned, took a deep breath, and stepped forward. “Alright. Let’s exchange."

Your team fell silent. It was your decision to sacrifice yourself for them. They had to honor this, or else they would be trampling your good intentions.

“Sure?” The ogre asked you.

“Sure."

With that, your team was allowed to enter the house and settle in the untouched upstairs. You, however, had to stay downstairs with the ogre.

For the living space of an ogre, you found the house surprisingly clean. Apart from the heavy scent of blood coming from the shop front where it worked, and some furniture looked very used, it was really just a normal house.

“Come,” the ogre grunted.

Following it, you found that the house had an incredibly clean kitchen. From the tools and some exposed ingredients and herbs, you could tell it was only used for cooking, not preparing meat, bones or offal for the butcher shop. It was just that the knives were all in extremely good states. Additionally, from the window above the counter, you could see a well-tended garden behind the house.

Was this... really the home of an ogre?

While you were still in doubt, the ogre told you to cook and shuffled off to continue chopping meat.

You watched it leave with big eyes and scratched your head.

This situation was too... strange.

But it was useless to think too much. You washed your hands, took some ingredients, and started cooking. With the available tools, it was easy to whip up some home-cooked dishes of adequate taste. Anyway, no one would fault the only team member who was still fully mobile and mostly unharmed for failing to cook a gourmet lunch.

The next few days passed in a strangely calm manner. You were responsible for cooking for everyone, your team mates just had to rest and nurse their injuries, and the ogre kept chopping meat.

Then came the day when your team wanted to leave. They wanted to take you with them, but the ogre refused.

“She, mine."

Your team leader frowned fiercely.

“Human, keep, promise, else..."

The team members gritted their teeth, clearly ready to fight. Thankfully your team leader held them back. He exchanged a glance with you, saw you give a reassuring smile, and could only accept that they’d traded you for a safe stay.

They left, and you stayed.

The ogre turned to you. “Human, keep, promise."

You looked at it, looked into its eyes for the first time. They were a bright, clear gold, glittering in the sunshine. Quite beautiful for a monster. “I know. I will keep my promise."

After your team left, the ogre allowed you to go into the garden. At first, you didn’t understand, but when you saw the herbs, vegetables and fruits that grew there, you realized that it wanted to eat better.

...Well, even ogres have standards.

In the following days, apart from cooking, you gradually started taking care of the house. The rooms needed cleaning and airing out, the garden had to be tended to, and when you asked the ogre if you could use the discarded bones as fertilizer you meant to see it smile. It looked weird on its big face, yet also strangely endearing.

Afterwards, as you grew more skilled at your tasks, you found yourself bored in your free time.

When the ogre noticed this, it simply dragged you to help in the shop. It seemed to think your small arms were too weak to help chop meat and bones, so it just asked you to sell and count money.

Only then did you realize that not only did the shop open at unusual times, the ogre also got scammed a lot. The various monsters buying from it kept trying to pay less for excellent quality meat, bones and offal, and some even tried to directly eat the meat from the counter or hook. At those times, if you didn’t manage to beat them with logic, you’d just pull your sword out of its scabbard, letting the magical blade hum threateningly.

In the beginning, this was simply because the ogre having money also improved your quality of life.

Then later, it was because you discovered that what the ogre sold was in no way ordinary. All the meat, bones and offal, and even skins and horns and whatever else it sold, stemmed from magical beasts ranging from dragons and chimeras to kraken, griffins and even phoenixes and unicorns. Essentially, as long as someone delivered a hunted creature, the ogre would butcher it. And now you were there to ensure a fair price.

Gradually, you found yourself enjoying this leisurely life with the ogre.

You didn’t go out a lot, just once a week to go to the nearby monster village to buy milk, cheese, and some other stuff. Every now and then, the ogre would also buy you little things, the kind that had drawn your eye on the market but were deemed unnecessary by you.

And one day, it brought you out on a walk. It was really just a walk in the garden, brushing along the edge of the forest, and by the end of it, the ogre had gathered a bouquet of wildflowers.

“For you,” the ogre said as it, no, he handed you the bouquet, the human language flowing from his mouth more smoothly than at the start of your acquaintance.

You looked at him. Tall, large, strong and hairy, the ogre was by all means a terrifying, man-eating monster, but... Your heart softened. He looked so cute as he shyly waited, clear golden eyes repeatedly glancing over in anticipation. With a gentle smile, you took the flowers, “Thank you."

He grinned.

Bathed in the bright sunshine, surrounded by the lush forest and blooming garden, he looked so happy. The sight made your heart pound, strong and steady and warm. You couldn’t help yourself.

Approaching a step, you held his shoulder, went on your tippy toes, and kissed his cheek.

He stiffened. His cheeks deepened in color and his hair stood like a scared cat. Staring at you in shock, eyes wide, he couldn’t find the words to express himself.

You laughed softly, took his hand, and led him back to your home.

From then on, your relationship subtly changed.

You noticed him gazing at you, and your eyes couldn’t help wandering over to him. The way his muscles shifted when he chopped meat was utterly fascinating, he smelled good, his voice caused your ears to tingle and your cheeks to heat up when he lowered it... By the time you realized you’d fallen for the ogre, it was already too late to extricate yourself.

Like on the battlefield, one wrong move and you were done for.

But then again, were it the battlefield, you’d be dead by now, not ogling at the ogre’s strong back.

One evening, illuminated by the late rays of the setting sun, the two of you sat in the living room and drank some wine. And emboldened by alcohol, you leaned over to kiss him on the lips.

The ogre froze for a moment. Then, he tentatively reached out and held the back of your head, gently pulling you closer. It was soft, tender, and inexperienced, with neither of you quite knowing where to put your hands or how to proceed. You both inexplicably laughed as you looked at each other.

Your days continued like this for a while, filled with a kind of beautiful ambiguity of glances and holding hands and hugging and kissing, until a month later, the ogre proposed to you.

He did everything, the whole human ritual of going down on one knee and offering you a wedding band and stuttering out promises. There was an indescribable fragility hidden within his clear golden eyes, as if a single word from you could provide him supreme joy or devastating sorrow. Your word would sentence his life.

What a sweet burden.

“Yes! A thousand times, yes!"

Tears glistened in his eyes. His hands shook as he helped you wear the wedding band, and then you pulled him into a tight hug.

...

The wedding was held in the nearby village, organized and attended by everyone living in the vicinity. After all, such big events were rare, and being able to eat together was a nice treat.

Clad in a traditionally embroidered dress and wearing a flower crown, you and your ogre sat at the head of a long table. You toasted the attendees, the heaven and earth, and each other, and the feast officially began. You ate and chatted and laughed, and after a dance around the tall bonfire, the ogre carried you home amidst everyone’s cheers and congratulatory songs.

Once the door closed, it became quiet.

Hands wrapped around your husband’s neck you gazed at him and peppered his cheek with kisses.

Until he sat you down on his bed.

It was wide and big, exuding his scent. Pressed onto it, you felt surrounded by him as he kissed you. The kisses trailed down your neck and he carefully lifted your skirt, caressing your legs with the motion.

He was so careful he seemed like he was afraid to break you.

You brushed your hands over him in encouragement, enjoying how he shuddered from your touch. His normally clear golden eyes carried an intoxicated hue as you undressed each other, and his breathing grew heavier. Big hands cupped your breasts, rubbed your waist and fondled your thighs, all accompanied by kisses. He was like a devout admirer, an adoring worshipper.

Kneeling between your opened legs, his towering, hairy body looked like a monster about to devour its prey.

And then there was his cock... It was large, covered in irregular bumps, and as pre cum overflowed from the tip the length gradually started to glisten enticingly.

Just looking aroused you so much you were starting to get a little desperate to feel him inside you.

Your ogre husband felt your gaze. His abdomen tensed, making his cock twitch, and he audibly swallowed. Golden eyes closely watching your reactions, he stroked your pussy and slipped his thick fingers between your folds.

He gently rubbed, then carefully inserted one finger. It filled you well, quickly wetting you enough for a second finger. Now, every curl and stretch produced a quiet squelch, and the way he pressed against your inner walls caused you to cry out.

Your hands dug into his hairy chest when he pushed in a third finger. You felt like it was too much, yet you knew that it was necessary.

The ogre pumped his fingers for a long time. He caressed and kissed you and did everything he could to make you feel good in preparation for his cock. All he wanted was for you to be safe and sound, to not be the reason for your hurt and pain when he loved you so much.

Not yet used to this, it took a long while for you to come.

Your muscles relaxed after the tension and you panted, already sweaty from the exertion of having your pussy stretched.

“Are you alright?” Your husband asked, worry thick in his eyes.

You smiled reassuringly, “Yeah, I’m fine. I just need a moment..."

He gently kissed your cheek. ”It’s okay. We, take our time."

“Mhm."

You kissed for a bit, then kissed a while longer, tongues entangled in a passionate dance, and you felt ready to continue.

Your ogre husband was extremely careful as he proceeded. He parted your folds to access your entrance, his big glans further widening your already stretched hole. The smooth tip way easily swallowed by you, yet it got more difficult when it came to his shaft, its bumps getting caught on your skin upon entering.

It made you frown and breathe harder, but when your husband offered to stop, you refused.

This was your wedding night, something you had been looking forward to. How could you stop now?

So he continued.

Very slowly, you took him in, until he was fully hilted and your belly bulged a little. His coarse pubic hair itched and tickled a little against your pussy, but the way his cock stretched you and pressed into your tender walls aroused you so much you were willing to ignore it.

After a while, you felt that you were used to being filled so thoroughly and gave your husband an encouraging look, “Go on..."

“Sure?"

You smiled, “Sure."

His clear golden eyes stained with lust took in your figure, how your face was flushed and sweaty and how your stomach bulged every time your pussy completely welcomed his big cock.

The slow pace left both of you drenched, impatient to finally fuck each other as if in heat. And yet, you kept at it, extremely careful due to your love.

Finally, after many repetitions of the same, slow thrusts, it was good enough. All it needed was a pleading look from you for him to find it impossible to hold back. His cock gave a twitch that made you moan, and then you couldn't stop moaning.

Every bump on your husband’s big cock managed to drag over your sensitive spots. The bed creaked and your breasts bounced as he pounded into you, his large hands firmly holding onto your hips to prevent you from being shoved away from him.

You clutched at his chest hair and arched your back from the stimulation. Your husband made you twitch in ecstasy, crying out as you came. Pussy fluttering around his length, squeezing him tightly, his accelerating pace heightened your pleasure and soon tipped you over the edge again and again, especially when his cock pulsed and his thick cum erupted, pumping you full of his seed.

In this way, you fucked the entire night, until dawn illuminated your sweaty bodies.

Lying on top of your husband with his cock still snugly plugging your pussy, you felt swollen and tired and happy.

Looking up, you saw his light golden eyes, and gave him a kiss. It was sloppy and messy, expressing both of your satisfaction and love.

And so, your peaceful days went on and on. By day, you worked together in the front, and by night, you fucked in the back. There seemed to be nothing more fulfilling than ending an exhausting day with a round of sex, sometimes slow and sleepy, other times hard and rough and leaving both of you dripping.

Life was good, and soon, a year had passed.

Your husband had closed shop early, allowing you to sit together on a bench in the yard and enjoy the sunset. He occasionally fed you some fruit slices, and in return you kissed his cheek.

You were just relaxing when you heard footsteps. Looking up, you saw a group of familiar faces, and one person couldn’t help exclaiming your name in joy and disbelief.

“Long time no see,” you smiled and nodded in greeting.

Your old guild team members were stunned. They were invited in by your husband in a daze, all the while repeatedly glancing at him, you, and your bulging belly.

You stroked your belly and smiled shyly, and the moment one of the team members asked, you happily started chattering on and on about how lovely your husband was and how happy you were to be pregnant and how good your life was now. It made your husband blush and your old team members stare. After all, they really couldn’t understand how an ugly, man-eating monster had gotten together with a human.

When one of them secretly inquired while your husband was making dinner, you said it was a matter of love.

The team member fell silent. She thought of the ogre, then looked at you, and understood even less. Then she thought, maybe it was her mindset limiting her. For you to fall in love, marry, and get pregnant, there had to be something to the monster that you found attractive, and it was normal that different people had different preferences.

In this way, she nodded to herself in affirmation and smilingly gave you her blessings.

A few more team members came over to talk to you, initially curious about your situation and later to catch up. Finally, you and your husband invited them to stay for the night. They chatted and ate happily, and then went upstairs to rest.

Lying in bed, you stroked your husband’s head as he kissed your pregnant belly. “I’m really happy we could reconnect."

He hummed. His stiff expression made you grin.

You grabbed his hair and pulled him up, moaning when his big hand grabbed your breast and his hard cock pressed against your pussy, “What, jealous?"

Your husband pulled a face, then buried his head in your chest and sucked on your nipple. He made you sigh in pleasure, tormenting your breasts and teasing your entrance until you begged him to fuck you, to go hard and fast and let the entire house hear you.

It was a beautiful yet sleepless night, with even the moon hiding behind a thick blanket of clouds.

You couldn’t have been any happier.

[serpentandlily]

congratulations on 3k followers!

would love to request Azriel x Reader (Fem!Reader if that’s okay with you), some good ole’ angst ending in fluff please!

Az knows reader is his soulmate and doesn’t say anything, reader either finds out because someone in the IC told her or the bond snaps for her, and she thinks Az didn’t tell her because he’s ashamed of her but really he’s ashamed of himself and thought reader wouldn’t want him.

I know this has been done before but I love seeing different versions of it and know yours would be amazing!!

The Shadowsinger’s Secret

Summary: After years spent trying to befriend the shadowsinger to no avail, you are finally ready to give up after accidentally overhearing him speak poorly of you. But when a gossip session exposes a life-changing secret, you realize you can’t let go of Azriel just yet. 

Warnings: some miscommunication, fluff

A/n: Hope you enjoy this! Thanks for sending in a request and for your kind words!

────────────

Meeting Mor at Rita’s during the time Velaris was warded and locked down had completely changed your life. 

A close friendship had bloomed between the two of you. She introduced you to her two other friends, Cassian and Azriel, when she invited you to a dinner at the townhouse they all shared. After getting over the shock of meeting the fae so close to the High Lord, you were quick to make friends with them—or well, with Cassian at least. 

Although Azriel didn’t seem like much of a talker in the first place, you began to notice the extra ways he would go about avoiding you. Quickly leaving a room with lousy excuses when you entered, avoiding eye contact when he did address you—like when he’d ask you to pass the potatoes since that was really the only time he talked to you, or pretending not to notice you when you would see him out and about in the city. 

At first, you chalked it up to him being severely introverted and shy. Not to mention, all three of them were struggling with the fact that their brother and friend was stuck under the rule of Amarantha. It hurt your feelings, but you brushed it off, figuring he would open up to you over time. But that time never seemed to come even after Rhysand returned. 

The first few months after Rhysand finally came home, you were quick to form a friendship with him despite him being your High Lord. You two shared similar traumas. You both had terrible fathers growing up. He had lost his sister, you had lost your brother—the reason you’d moved away from home to live here. But perhaps the best and most silly reason you got along so well was the fact that the two of you loved to gossip. 

Even after making friends with both his brothers and Mor, Azriel did not warm up to you. He still avoided you. Still made sure to always sit at the other end of the table from you. Made sure to never be left in a room alone with you. And he would never be the one to offer to fly you up to the House of Wind, even when it would’ve been more convenient. 

You were beginning to think maybe he just didn’t like you. And then those feelings were confirmed with the appearance of the Archeron sisters. 

You had seen the way Azriel treated Elain, always offering to keep her company or escort her to places. He sat with her at dinners, listened to her talk about her hobbies, and even defended her when a bad word was said about her. Elain was easy to get along with, sure, but so were you. At least, you had thought you were. But Azriel was making you question everything you had ever thought of yourself. 

He even became friends with Nesta, who had been nothing short of a viper when she first arrived in Velaris. That was when you finally let go of the notion of ever being his friend, ever getting him to even so much as look your way. He didn’t like you. For whatever reason, a reason you were too scared to ask the others about, he didn’t like you. 

You had gone to such great lengths to be his friend. Gave him presents on Winter Solstice, brought his favorite treats from the bakery to leave in the kitchen for him every sunday, tried to converse with him during dinners, included him whenever you invited the group out for drinks. You had tried your hardest and it had been met with pure apathy. You eventually found out that he wouldn’t even eat any of the treats you brought, leaving them all for Cassian.  

That really drove the nail into the coffin. He didn’t even want to touch something because it had been from you. It hurt more than you’d like to admit.

You were currently making your way to Rhys’s office for a meeting about how your mentorship with Madja was going but more importantly, to share the hot gossip you’d heard when two voices caught your attention. 

You paused in your tracks when you heard your name mentioned, glancing at the closed door to Rhys’s personal library. 

“You should at least try and talk to her, Azriel.”

“You don’t understand, Elain.” You heard Azriel respond. “I can’t.” 

“It’s not fair that you're making judgements without even knowing her. She’s pretty, she’s kind—Y/n is a great girl!”

Your heart was wildly beating in your chest, both panic and nausea turning over your stomach. 

“I do know her and she’s not. She's not pretty or kind. She’s not a great girl, she’s—”

You fled before you could hear the rest of Azriel’s response, tears burning in your eyes, chest tight. 

So none of it had been in your head. Azriel truly disliked you. You didn’t know what you did to offend him or make him hate you.

You swallowed, thickly, wiping away the tears that had slid down your cheeks, trying to compose yourself before you entered Rhys’s office. The last thing you wanted was for him to ask you why you were upset.

But you could do nothing about the nausea in your stomach, or the hoarse feeling in your throat that made it hard to swallow. Maybe you’d just drop off the report and scurry home before anyone noticed something was wrong. 

You pushed open the door to his office, keeping your eyes on the floor as you entered and shut it behind you. 

“Ah, Y/n, just the person I was waiting for! You will not believe what I heard Nesta telling—” You looked up when Rhys paused to see him staring at you with concern. “Y/n, what’s the matter? Why do you look so upset?” 

“N-nothing,” you choked out, striding forward and setting your report on his desk. “I’m just a bit tired today. Think I’m going to head home and take a nap.” 

Rhysand stared down at the folder on his desk with a frown before leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms. “Bullshit.” 

“Excuse me?!”

“I’m calling bullshit, Y/n,” Rhys said, looking at you with a stern expression that was normally reserved for when Nyx acted up. “You stay out all night long with Mor all the time and you’ve never skipped out on our talks! What happened? Did someone hurt you? Who do we have to beat up?” 

You shook your head with a small laugh that sounded as hollow as you felt. “Seriously, Rhys, I’m fine. Nothing happened. I really am just tired.” 

He studied you before nodding at the chair in front of his desk with his chin. “Sit.” 

You bristled at him using his High Lord’s voice to get you to obey, reluctantly taking a seat in the armchair. He didn’t seem bothered by the glare you were sending his way. 

“This is hardly necessary,” you argued.

“You’re not leaving this room until you tell me why you walked into my office looking like a little, downtrodden puppy.” 

“Gee, thanks,” you scoffed at his comparison. “Like I said, nothing is wrong!” 

Rhys only quirked an eyebrow at you and you let out a noise of frustration. “Fine! Look, I just overheard some people talking about me and not all of it was…

pleasant, okay? That’s all.” 

“Who?” Rhys barked out. “What were they even saying? You’re the most harmless person I know.”

You rolled your eyes at his remark. 

“No one important and besides, people are allowed to have negative feelings about me,” you sniffed. “Even if it hurts to hear.” 

“If it was no one important then you wouldn’t be upset. And no one is allowed to have negative opinions about any of my friends except for me,” Rhys leaned back in his chair and kicked up his feet on his desk before giving you a very feline smile. 

You snorted. “Yeah, well, what if it was one of your friends I overheard?”

You regretted those words as soon as they came out of your mouth. 

Rhys perked up. “If it was Cassian, don’t pay him any mind. He’s just mad you beat him at poker last week.” 

“It wasn’t Cassian. It was Azriel,” you sighed. 

Rhys was silent for a moment before he burst into laughter. Your mouth dropped open at his audacity. 

“It’s not funny! I’ve spent years trying to be his friend! I don’t know why he hates me so much.” 

“It’s funny because I know Azriel would never talk shit about you. He doesn’t even talk shit about the people he does hate and he most certainly does not hate you,” he chuckled. “I don’t know what you overheard but it must be a misunderstanding.”

“It wasn’t!” 

“Alright, show me.”

You felt dark claws tap on your mental shield and you let him in after some slight hesitation, letting him view your most recent memory. 

“Hm,” Rhys mused when he was done. “I’m not convinced. You should’ve stuck around to hear what he said.” 

Hearing Azriel’s words in your head again caused a new round of tears. You tried to hold them back, sniffling but it was no use. Rhys sat up straight when he realized just how upset you were. 

“Y/n, please don’t cry. I promise you Azriel does not hate you. I know how awful that sounded but I really think—”

“He does! He’s never liked me! I’ve tried so hard to be his friend, Rhys, and he always ignores me or pretends I’m not there. Every time I try to talk to him he gives me one word answers and runs away with any excuse like he can’t even stand to be around me! I don’t know what I did to make him hate me so much or think I’m an awful person.” 

You wiped away the tears on your cheeks, bitterly. 

“Azriel’s just…shy,” Rhys said, weakly. “Give him some time to warm up to you.”

“I’ve known him for over fifty years now, Rhys! Hell, he’s already friends with Elain and Nesta and they’ve barely been living here for two years. I think if he wanted to be my friend, it would’ve happened already. He just doesn’t like me!” 

The door to Rhys’s office opened right after you finished talking and you stiffened as Cassian strode in. 

“Oh, hey, Y/n, I didn’t know you were in here,” Cassian greeted as he shut the door behind him. He stopped in his tracks once he noticed your tears and Rhys’s grimace. “What’s wrong? Did something happen?” 

You groaned, dropping your face into your hands with embarrassment. 

“Y/n is under the impression that Azriel hates her.” 

“No, I know he hates me,” you said, voice muffled. 

Cassian’s booming laughter filled the office, making you sink further down in the chair. What the hell was so funny about this? 

“You think Azriel hates you?” Cassian asked in between his laugh. “Y/n, that is ridiculous! He could never hate you. You’re his mate—”

“Cassian!” Rhys rose, slamming his hands down on his desk. 

Your head sprung up. 

“What…what did you just say?” 

Rhys let out a sigh, pinging the bridge of his nose. “Gods damn it, Cassian. Y/n…you weren’t supposed to find out this way. I’m so sorry—”

“Azriel is my mate and he knows? He told you guys but not me? Why…”

Why? Of course you knew why! He never told you because he didn’t want you as his mate. All the air in the room was sucked out, your face turned hot, your ears started ringing. Your mate didn’t want you. Your Mother-blessed mate didn’t want you. You shot up out of your seat, rushing to the door. 

“Y/n, wait!” 

But you didn’t stop.

────────────

“It’s better this way,” Azriel sighed. “She deserves better than me. She deserves someone as good as her as a mate. She could never want someone like me—I’m not good enough for her.” 

“You should at least try and talk to her, Azriel,” Elain replied. 

“You don’t understand, Elain. I can’t.” 

Azriel sighed, running a hand through his hair. He couldn’t talk to you because the mating bond might snap in place and then you’d be chained to him forever and that was just not fair to you. You deserved so much more. 

“It’s not fair that you're making judgements without even knowing her. She’s pretty, she’s kind—Y/n is a great girl!”

“I do know her and she’s not. She's not pretty or kind. She’s not a great girl, she’s a saint. She’s not just pretty, she is the most beautiful girl in the world and she’s so much more than just kind. She’s good unlike me. I’ve…I’ve done so many bad things. I’m tainted and if I allow myself to be with her, I’ll ruin her.”

“You’re being too hard on yourself, Azriel,” Elain sighed. “Besides, shouldn’t Y/n be the one to decide for herself if you’re good enough for her? Me and Lucien didn’t get off to a great start but at least he was honest with me.” 

Azriel’s wings drooped to the floor. “You’re…right. It’s not fair to her that I’ve been keeping this a secret all these years. But I don’t want her to feel forced to be with me.”

“She is smart, Azriel, and can handle herself. If she doesn’t want you, I’m sure she’ll be honest about that. But you won’t know until you try. And as much as I love listening to you talk about her—I think I can speak for all of us when I say that you should stop saying this stuff to us and start saying it to her! She probably thinks you hate her with how much you avoid her!” 

Azriel’s chest ached at that thought. The last thing he wanted to do was upset you which is why he stayed away. 

“But—”

“No more buts, Azriel,” Elain said, sternly. “Tell her before she finds out some other way like Feyre did. You know how much that upset her. Rhys is lucky my sister is so forgiving.” 

Azriel swallowed thickly, but rose to his feet. It was about time he faced this, about time he stopped trying to hold his mate at arms length. Even if he felt like he didn’t deserve you, you deserved to know the truth. 

“Okay. You’re right. You’ve all been right and I’ve been a coward. She deserves the truth.”

Elain smiled, nodding her head. “Good luck, Azriel. Just remember if she seems reluctant at first, don’t take it to heart. It took all of us some time before we warmed up to our mates.” 

He gave her a dip of his head before leaving the library to start his search for his mate. What he didn’t expect was you to come barreling down the hallway with tears pouring from your eyes. His stomach turned over at the sight and he quickly stopped you in her path, grabbing you by the shoulders. 

“Y/n, what’s wrong—”

Your eyes widened as you stared up at him.

“D-don’t,” you cried out, shrugging out of his grip. “Please, don’t touch me.”

And then you were off again, disappearing around the corner. He stood frozen in place, debating if he should run after you. But you clearly didn’t want to talk to him. And it was all his fault—the distance he had put between the two of you. 

He made his way to Rhys’s office, pushing aside the urge to run after his mate and find out why you were so upset and who he needed to hurt for causing your tears. 

When he entered, he immediately knew something was wrong. Cassian was staring at him with pure guilt in his eyes while Rhys stood behind his desk, frowning. 

“Azriel, I’m so sorry,” Cassian choked out. 

“Sorry about what?” 

Cassian rubbed the back of his neck, looking like he wanted to ground to swallow him whole. “I might’ve told Y/n that you're her mate.” 

“You what,” Azriel growled. 

Cassian glanced at Rhys who decided to jump in before a war broke out in his office. “Honestly, Azriel, it’s your fault for keeping it from her. She was in here crying because she thinks you hate her. I was trying to convince her you don’t when Cassian walked in and let it slip.” 

“You’re one to talk,” Azriel spat out. “You hid your mating bond from Feyre too.”

“Not for over fifty years! I would’ve told her if she hadn’t found out. I withheld that information for a few months and look how that turned out. How do you think Y/n will feel knowing you hid it from her for over fifty years!” 

Azriel’s wings slumped, his shadows whirling around him in distress. Just the idea of you being hurt by him was enough to make him want to bash his head into the wall. “She deserves better.”

“You’re right. She deserves you,” Cassian said, gently, nudging him with his shoulder. “Maybe this was the push you needed, Az, to finally talk to her.” 

Azriel sighed, bowing his head in shame. “I know, I know. And I will—I will go talk to her.” 

“I recommend starting with an apology,” Rhys joked but Azriel was hardly paying attention, already sending out his shadows to find his upset mate.

────────────

You were sitting on a hill that overlooked Velaris, running your fingers through the grass. This day had gone from bad to absolutely dreadful in the matter of a few minutes and now you were left reeling with the information that Azriel was your mate. A mate that had kept the bond secret from you. A mate that obviously didn’t want you.

He had said so to Elain. He didn’t think you were pretty or kind or great. It all made sense now, how much he had avoided you in the past. He didn’t want you to figure it out, didn’t want the bond to snap for you. You let out a sigh, drawing your knees up to your chest and resting your chin on them.

A light breeze of wind ruffled your hair forward as someone appeared behind you. You didn’t bother turning around, already recognizing that familiar smell of cedar and night-chilled mist. Cassian must’ve let him know that the cat was out of the bag and now Azriel was likely here to beg you to reject him.

“You know, I’ve lived in Velaris nearly my whole life but I’ve never been up here before today.” Azriel’s deep voice broke the silence. “That’s a beautiful view of the city.”

“I know,” you answered, quietly, your voice hoarse from crying. “It’s why I come up here.”

“Do you come here often?” His voice was closer this time and his shadows began to whisk through your hair and under your arms, much like they always did when in your presence.

“Only when I’m upset,” you sighed, blinking away more tears.

There was a moment of silence before Azriel spoke again. “I’m really sorry, Y/n. I did not intend for you to find out about the bond that way.”

“It’s alright,” you said, weakly. “It must’ve been hard finding out your mate is someone you don’t want. I know you’re here to ask me to reject it. I will do as you ask so you can continue on with your life.”

“No,” Azriel spit out quickly, stumbling closer to you. “No, I’m not here to ask you to reject it. I’m here to explain myself…I hate that this has made you so upset.”

He sat down next to you, mimicking your position. You kept your gaze forward, scared to see what you might find if you looked at him. “You don’t have to explain yourself, Azriel. I get it. I, um, I overheard you talking about me to Elain.”

“Rhys showed me what you overheard,” Azriel said, his wings flexing before the one closest to you curled around your form to block the wind. “I wish you had stayed just a second longer, Y/n, because I truly was not saying anything bad about you. I would never—”

“If that’s true then what were you doing? What did you mean when you said I wasn’t pretty or kind or great? What could that possibly mean other than what it seems to?”

“I said that because it’s true. You’re not pretty or kind or great, Y/n. You are beautiful, the most beautiful girl to ever step foot in this world. And you’re not just kind, you’re so much more than that. You are good. You have the heart of a true angel. You are so much more than those three words can describe. I never kept the bond from you because I didn’t want you. I kept it a secret because you deserve someone better,” Azriel confessed.

“And you don’t think you can be that someone for me, Azriel? You’re my Mother-given mate! You want to know something? I’ve always dreamt about finding my mate one day. Hoped that I would get to experience a love like that in my lifetime. And to find out—”

Your voice cracked, tears sliding down your cheeks.

“Please, don’t cry,” Azriel pleaded, taking your chin in his grasp, and turning your head to face him. He cupped your cheeks, his thumbs brushing away the tears. “I longed for the day I would find my mate. But when I finally found you after all these years, I…I didn’t know how to wrap my head around the fact that the Mother blessed me with you. You are so much more than I ever dreamed of. You are all that is good in this world. You bring happiness to every room you walk in. You’re smart. You’re beautiful. The last thing I wanted was to drag you down by shackling you to me.”

“What if it is you that I want? What if I want you to be that person? Did you ever consider that might be a possibility? Because let me tell you something, Azriel. You say I’m more than you ever dreamed of, but you are exactly who I’ve been dreaming of all these years. Someone calm, someone patient, someone good of heart. Someone I can feel safe around. Someone I can call home. What would you say to that?”

“Then I might say you’re an idiot for wanting me,” Azriel chuckled, still stroking your cheeks with his thumbs, staring down at you with those beautiful hazel eyes. “But then I’d probably get down on my knees and beg you for a second chance. To let me prove to you that you have my heart and soul. You have since the day I laid eyes on you.”

You stared up at him, eyes wide with your vulnerability. “And if I agreed to give you a second chance, what would you say?”

“I would say be ready by seven tonight so I can take you out and show you what a girl like you deserves,” Azriel breathed out. “What would you say to that?”

You laughed, the ache in your chest finally soothed. “I would say yes.”

Azriel smiled, a rare and breathtaking sight, before he stood and reached out a hand to help you off the ground. “Good. I was hoping you’d say that.”

You smiled back at him before finally taking his hand.