#A Ballad of Sorrow and Love

[nikethestatue]

A Ballad of Sorrow and Love

Please enjoy my contribution to this year's Elriel Month. Please be advised this is HIGHLY EXPLICIT. No one under 18 should read this story. This will be a 3 part story.

TW: Extreme sexual content, graphic violence, language, death

NOT RECOMMENDED for those with sensitive dispositions. Not recommended to be read in public. Not recommended to be read in the company of others.

The first part is pure, graphic smut which includes but not limited to domination, submission, choking, rough language, rough sex, wing penetration, anal, vaginal, oral, triple penetration and more.

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Part I:

Death and His Lovely Fawn

This very moment was Azriel’s favourite, and therefore he chose to savour it every time. 

The thick, bulbous head of his cock, slowly circling his girl’s tight little hole. He taunted her with it, his veiny long shaft gripped in his scarred hand, teasing her and keeping her on edge. The tiny pink hole quivered in anticipation and apprehension, as if knowing what was about to happen to it. But his Ellie was his good girl and she’d take it without complaint. She always took everything he gave her without a murmur of protest: welcoming and acquiescent. His Ellie submitted to him so beautifully and that always brought a lustful smile to his lips, and a warming sense of comfort enveloped him whenever he saw her, eager and ready to receive him.

She was so gorgeous beneath him, her soft belly folding on into itself, her breaths ragged and anxious. Her pale heavy breasts rose and fell with each breath and her brown eyes watched him unblinkingly. She licked her lips, watching and waiting. He was in no hurry though, dipping the tip of his cock into her wet opening and making her hiss a breath, though he only did it to keep her on edge. 

“You were a bad girl, Ellie,” he murmured to her, shaking his head, “making me worry for your safety like that.”

When they went on missions, when he meted his punishments, when it was time for him to be judge and executioner, his Elllie was right next to him, unflinching and regal, quiet and deadly–his sublime dark princess. However, just as she worried about him, he was even more concerned about her. Her safety, her well-being, her whole existence were the only things that tethered him to this life, to his Court, to his family. Without his Elain, life was meaningless and Azriel had learned this simple fact long ago. He lived for his princess, and she lived and walked with him, and at his side, no matter what life threw at them.

He was a cold and deviant male, his soul as dark as the shadows that swirled around him. Elain though, she was his sun, his light, his hope, the one who never judged him and never stepped away from him. Even when he was drenched in the blood of their enemies. Even when he was cruel and violent and descended upon his helpless adversaries like a storm cloud. Ellie knew her place. And it was with him, with her prince. She guided him and was loyal to him and to his cause, and she ruled alongside him in their kingdom of obsidian, firelight and night-blooming jasmine. 

Their roles were clear and long-established–in their marriage, he fucked her, and she submitted and she screamed and she asked him for more. And it was perfect. 

“Do you want to be filled, princess?” he asked, looking between her legs and watching her little hole twitch in anticipation. “I will ride you very hard,” he warned. She nodded shyly, knowing that there was no escaping him or his desires. She was going to be ridden, and he chuckled, adding, “keep those cheeks nice and open for me. If you take me well, I will keep you on my cock for the night.”

She smiled her sweet, luminous smile at him and nodded. He kept her on his cock every night: this was something he expected of her. Sometimes, she fell asleep holding him in her mouth, sucking sleepily and lightly on him all through the night. If she ever moved away from him, he made sure to find her pretty mouth and pump it a little, so she remembered not to release him even for a second. In the morning, he gave her his seed at last. By then, she was so desperate for it, she sucked greedily and sloppily on him, even before he was fully awake. His cock was never left long without her attention. Their life, their love was always just as it should’ve been. 

“Suck a little,” he ordered, as he swung over her and closer to her mouth, “make it ready for your pretty pink asshole so I can get in there and ruin it.”

Before she could say anything, he pushed the heft of his shaft between her waiting lips and sunk deep all at once. She choked on him, breathing heavily, but he didn’t care if she gasped or gagged. In fact, he preferred it. He liked it when she became messy for him–drunk on his seed, on his cock, saliva and tears streaking her face, her hair tangled, her skin flushed and bruised. He straddled her chest, and held the back of her head in his hand, gripping the base of his dick in his available hand and guiding it in and out of her mouth. 

“That’s good, Ellie,” he murmured his approval. “That’s good…Work for your pleasure, girl,” he urged her, watching his tattooed cock disappear in and out her mouth. She slurped all over his heavy dick, while he fucked her steadily, dipping into her throat and watching his cockhead bulge inside and protrude against her neck. 

“No one sucks cock like you, princess,” he complimented her and she blushed her lovely rosy blush, smiling over his shaft. “Gods, I love filling your mouth…all your holes, but your mouth is delicious…sucking me so well. Let me get down your throat, sweet girl,” he adjusted himself above her, and began plunging in her mouth in earnest. She was moaning, struggling beneath him, her sharp nails digging into his thighs and he relished in the pain that she offered him. His hips pistoned smoothly in and out of her mouth, rubbing against her tongue, pushing as deep as he could go, which was all the way. He loved feeling her little nose pressing into his pelvis, sliding against his stomach while he was buried in her throat. 

“Suck, princess,” he ordered, “suck your lord’s cock.”

He was thrusting hard and steady, watching her eyes roll back in her head, and she softened into the mattress of their marital bed, her breathing shallow as she fell into the sensation of bliss that he was offering. She was no longer so much as sucked him, but became a willing vessel for him to push his hungry cock into, her mouth and throat open to his rough thrusting. 

“Doing so well, my princess,” he caressed her damp cheek, while his movements became more punishing and he groaned,  “I can’t stop right now. Drink up,” and he pumped harder, before shuddering with his violent release and spilling his seed in her mouth. He held his cock firmly inside, watching her swallow and drink his cum. Her small, hot hands gripped his buttocks and she held onto him, latching hard on his dick and sucking hungrily. He smiled at her enthusiasm and stroked her head. “I have plenty for you, sweetness,” he assured her. “You can have as much as you like.” She wanted all of it, as she finally swallowed the very last bit and then began licking his cock, cleaning him up. He leaned back on her chest, enjoying her thorough, dedicated work, lazily pushing in and out of her cum-smeared lips.

“Keep licking,” he encouraged. “I love watching you, my beautiful girl. My Princess.”

He let her lick for a while longer, always hard for her, but her pretty ass needed to be fucked and he was ready for his favourite hole of hers. Holding his cock in her mouth, he shifted back and stood by the edge of the bed, while she got on her hands and knees. Cupping his balls in his hand, he pushed her face lower and then squeezed one between her lips. She licked on the pouch readily, before she proceeded to suck one ball after another. He smiled. Always so eager to please him. Gods, he fucking loved her. Loved her more than he thought possible. More than it was comprehensible.

She covered his ballsack with wet, deep kisses, always thanking him for giving her his cum–as if he’d ever deny her! Everything that he was, and everything that he had–it was all for her. Every drop of his seed, every kiss, his hands and his touch, his tongue, his lips–she had it all. He cupped her chin and cheek, so he could tilt her face the way he wanted to, and after a bit of work and adjusting, he squeezed his entire ballsack in her mouth. He gagged and grunted breathlessly, her mouth completely overflowing with him, but he firmly clasped her face in his hand, making her suck his balls. She gripped his hips, holding onto him while he instructed, “eyes on me, princess. Ass up.”

Tears streamed down her cheeks from her stunningly beautiful watery-eyes and he thumbed them, before bringing his thumb to his lips and licking the salt of her tears.

She curved her back for him, thrusting her round fabulous ass up, while she watched him, seeing his approval for the ball sucking that she was giving him.

Her wet hot tongue worked over each ball, licking and laving, rubbing against the seam in between, all the while managing to keep the whole pouch inside. 

“Who is my perfect girl?” he asked, indulging her efforts by pulling on her ripe, thick nipples and twisting them between his fingers. She whimpered, her heavy tits hanging low to the mattress, filling his hand nicely, as he continued to twist and rub her nipples, squeezing them until she cried out against his balls. 

“You are doing so well, sweetheart,” he praised, “sucking my balls like that.”

She blinked at him, wanting more. He lazily drew his shaft over her face, watching her closely.

His incredible wife. 

The love of his long, rotten, miserable life. 

Everything was wrong, until he saw her, still a human woman, in a cobalt gown.

These days, she loved walking next to him, down the spacious, imposing hallways of their Court, in her black silken gowns, strings of diamonds and pearls draped over her neck and her arms, the silk whispering its own secret song to his shadows. Her delicate lovely hand always lying over his forearm, his strength supporting his cherished wife, while she leaned into him, but also led them forward. They always balanced each other–his strength to her wisdom, his brutality to her unwavering sense of justice, his loyalty to her power. And as their courtiers greeted them, as they met with dignitaries and emissaries of other Courts, she dripped his cum out of her well-used openings. 

Their Court was unique–traditional, ancient, full of magic and impregnated with unimaginable power. How he loved Calanmai and how he loved taking her in front of their Court. She was shy at first–after they were wed and after the Power shifted to her and to him and they took their rightful places as the Prince and Princess of the Court of Nightmares, the Power demanded that the old Order be re-established. That meant that when Calanmai came, the Princess was expected to take her Prince’s seed in order to revive their Court, year after year. Nothing was more beautiful than his Princess walking down the Great Hall towards him, completely naked, thousands of pairs of eyes watching her every move. Her breasts swayed heavily, her sex on full display. He waited for her by their black throne, ready for her to kneel at his feet, offering him herself and her loyalty. And then he lifted her and placed her on the black throne, and kneeled at her feet, indicating their equal status and his devotion to her. Then it was up to the Princess to spread her legs for the Prince, offer him her womb to seed and take him inside of her in front of the Court. By the gods, did he love spreading that pussy in front of everyone with his cock, filling her fully and then hammering into her until she writhed like a mad woman on that black stone throne. Though she didn’t have to, it was his Ellie who took up a new custom of kissing his balls in gratitude after he was finished with her. He didn’t mind it at all. 

Now, she kissed and licked his balls every time he came inside of her. And frankly, as she should have. As she was doing right now, still occupied with sucking and licking on his ballsack. He watched her proudly, her stunning face peeking from under his hard cock, her lips wrapped around his balls. 

“Good girl,” he urged her on, “keep going like that, sweetheart. I can’t wait to fuck your little ass, my favourite ballsucker.” 

She laughed at that, and he patted her head. Then, leaning over her, he harshly spread her ass cheeks, pulling them apart until the tight hole puckered. At the sight of it, his wings flared with excitement, and he grabbed the left claw in his hand and pressed it into her hole. The claw was thick and blunt, a curved piece of smooth bone with nerve endings all over it. It was annoyingly sensitive at times, especially when he was aroused, and his wings filled with blood just like his dick. He tapped her asshole with the claw, pushing just a bit inside, only enough to feel his Ellie pause her sucking and still between his legs. 

“Did I say you can stop?” he asked sternly, and pushed the claw a bit deeper inside her ass. She moaned against his balls, breathing loudly. Azriel smiled to himself. Ellie could suck his cock, lick his balls and lave his own anus for hours if he wanted her to. She knew that it was her duty to please him, just like he pleased her. And she loved nothing more than to please him, care for him, adore him, service him…because as impossible as it was, but she loved him just as much as he loved her. Her devotion to him was complete. She loved him deeply and obsessively, on par with his own blind, fanatical adoration of her. 

Easily, he flipped her back on her back and raised her legs high in the air, pressing them together. Her lips were swollen from all the sucking she’s been doing, and she looked ready and wanton, eager to be taken. He wrapped his fingers around both of her ankles, smashing her under her legs and not caring. She was used to it and she could take it. Her pussy lips closed, but the hole was still perfectly visible, just like he wanted. The other hole winked at him impatiently, so tiny, it was almost a sin to think that he’d be sinking his whole massive shaft into it in about a minute. His girl was tense, knowing that the pain was about to come, secretly wanting it, yet still fearing it. She never knew how he was going to take her. Sometimes, he was slow and gentle, and worked her hole open with great care and patience. Sometimes, he rammed into her hard and made her cry out and whine and beg him to slow down. Other times, he took her by surprise and pushed his whole length into her tight channel in one brutal shove. Often, he began thrusting immediately, not letting her adjust and enjoying the sight of her struggle. And other times, he pushed to the end, and then emptied completely, forcing dozens of deep, savage penetrations into her poor rectum. 

Elain knew who she married when she married him. He was a hard, determined, unforgiving, fearsome male. He loved her, but he was a rough and demanding lover. He used her to the fullest whenever he wanted, and expected her to comply enthusiastically. 

He grabbed his cock and slapped her slit harshly, making her cry out pitifully. He did it again and again, slapping her pussy with his cock and his hand, spanking it roughly and mercilessly. She jerked and bounced on the bed with each hit, her toes curling from the pressure. 

Without warning, he squeezed her ankles harder and pressed his cockhead into her anus. His piercing snagged on the tight rim of her hole, and she winced, as he worked his cock deeper, pushing through the resistance. She wailed softly, biting her lips and squeezing her eyes shut. 

“Princess, you look so pretty with my cock in your ass,” he laughed a delighted laugh and then slapped her buttock playfully. “I know it hurts, sweetheart, but you are opening so well for me. You are so tight and hot–it feels incredible.” He decided to be a little gentler than usual–just a little–and screwed his dick into her amazingly snug hole with some consideration. He needed to reward her for sucking him off as well as she did, but also punish her ass for putting herself in danger on their last mission. 

He didn’t like it. He didn’t like worrying about her. Their enemies were many, and powerful too. He didn’t want to put her in danger, but she was always with him, no matter where he went and what he did, therefore, it was inevitable that she’d be exposed to a slew of threats. 

The punishment for lack of care and disobedience, especially on their missions, was usually something sexual. And Azriel’s deviant mind was never short of ideas. She both loved it, and feared it. Sometimes, it was as mild as him bending her over, and forcing a thick, and uncomfortably big butt plug in her ass and then having her meet dignitaries, dance, socialise and dine with them, while the thing stretched and tortured her rectum. Inevitably, he’d pull her into some corner of their palace, lift up her skirt and while guests and courtiers were just behind the wall or a drape, he’d pull the plug out. Then she’d receive a quick, hard fuck, and forced to remain quiet while he pumped her ass full of cum. He’d leave her unsatisfied and high strung, before placing the plug back in. Then, she spent the rest of the evening aching, overfilled, her anus hurting, while her passage was full of seed and ivory. 

His favourite ‘punishment’ was to have her in his office, or at a reception, kneeling under a desk or a table, holding his huge cock in her mouth for hours. She’d have to be quiet, so as not to alert others to her presence, and her only nourishment for a few of those hours consisted of his cum, after he allowed her to suck him off. 

Azriel was a sexual sadist–-appropriate, he supposed, for the Prince of Hewn City–and he enjoyed inflicting sweet torturous sexual pain on his girl. Thankfully, his girl craved submission and certainly did not mind a bit of pain along with it.

Azriel kept forcing his shaft deeper and deeper into her, while she clutched the sheets on their bed in her hands, her back bowing deeply, as she took him in. Her pretty nose was scrunched from the pressure and she was wincing and moaning, watching Azriel’s satisfied expression. And satisfied he was. Opening her lush ass up with his dick was pleasure unlike any other. 

“Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck,” he cursed, his voice gutteral and hoarse even to his own ears. He squeezed her ankles in his hands so hard, he knew he’d leave a mark, and then placed her legs on his shoulders, freeing his hands. He was trying not to blow his load immediately, though it was tempting. It’s not like he wouldn’t get hard almost instantly after he came, but he wanted to hold back and really wreck her perfect ass. 

She cried out and shook beneath him, her little hands pressing against his hips as if trying to push him back–which was adorable. Instead, he wrapped her arm around her fleshy soft thighs on his shoulder and leaned in, a wicked smile on his lips. 

“Opening for me like a flower,” he marvelled, looking between their bodies, watching her rim ripen and stretch around his dark shaft. He kissed her ankles and slapped her soft tit lightly, twisting her nipple until she screamed quietly. Clearly she was struggling today, his penetration more painful and uncomfortable than usual–which happened sometimes, particularly because she wasn’t prepared well–so he decided to take marginal pity on her. Catching his claw in his hand, he pulled his wing down and whispered, “open up, sweetness”. Obediently, Elain opened her mouth and wrapped her hands around the base of the claw, licking it with wide, hot swipes of her tongue.

“That’s a good girl!” Azriel approved, a shiver wracking his body from the dual stimulation. Her ass moved on his cock, as she settled in and relaxed her rectum in order for him to get deeper. Azriel sighed with enjoyment, watching her busy herself with his claw as he pumped in her tight passage, bottoming out at last. She groaned and winced, fully penetrated with his hot dick lodged in her ass, while sucking on his claw nervously. 

“Watch me as you suck, princess,” he reminded her, needing to see every expression of pain and pleasure on her delicate features. “You want your hole open nice and wide, right?”

She nodded eagerly, licking the tip of the claw, which was just as sensitive as his cockhead. Azriel placed one foot on the bed, giving himself better purchase, pulled the lips of her pussy wide apart with his finger, so he could see her pink, glistening slit and began fucking her ass roughly, with deep, hard strokes of his cock. She stilled, shocked into instant subservience by the barrage of his harsh pumps, squeezing his cock with her strong muscles, pulling it deeper inside with every thrust. 

“Fits well?” he winked at her, and she nodded, her body docile and soft, taking all of his cock obediently in her ass. Despite her cries and feeble protests, Azriel pushed a finger into her asshole, widening it even further, rubbing his thumb over the swollen, red rim, as he fucked her relentlessly. She was panting and screaming, damp with sweat, her tits bouncing wildly from how hard he was using her. “How about another?” he proposed, and before she could utter another protestation, he stuffed her mouth with his claw, making her suck on it. Meanwhile, he slowly inserted another finger into her anus, kissing her ankles and her foot, whispering, “you going to gape for me, treasure? I love this hole nice and wide open after I come in it. I want you leaking my cum tomorrow and I want the servants to know how well you were ridden by your lord.” He rubbed his fingers alongside his shaft inside of her, his thumb circling the rim for her enjoyment. But, today, he was in for a long ride, and because it took her a while to come from anal, he opted to start with that. He was going to savage her ass before he was going to allow her to climax.

Gods, he loved fucking his wife. 

It was a tight squeeze in her ass, with his dick and two fingers inside of her, but fuck, how he loved stretching her. He wiggled his fingers inside of her as much as he could in the tight heat of her passage and she shuddered and trembled, slobbering over the claw in her mouth. He didn’t stop, because he didn’t want to stave off her orgasm, which was barreling forth if the squeezing of her rectum was anything to go by. She deserved it. He’s used her hard and extensively today, and he wasn’t nearly done. But she deserved to come on his cock. 

“Come, sweetness,” he coaxed, “come on my dick. Come on my fingers. Look at me as you break.”

Her big brown doe eyes blinked, as she rubbed his claw in her fist, pumping it in her mouth, sucking on it, saliva spilling on her chin. 

“Work your ass on me, sweetheart. Show me how much you want it. Use my cock to get your ass off,” and she pushed down on him impatiently, moaning loudly, her head thrown back and her nipples sharp and puffy atop of her jolting tits. 

He watched her and let her do her thing for a moment, as she fucked herself on his thick dick, uncaring about the pain and the discomfort. But then it was time for him to take matters into his own hands and he began thrusting in her ravenously, his beastly nature overcoming his Fae self and his dark monster rising to the top and fluttering against his skin. The beast demanded more–never satisfied, never tired. While Elain screamed and cursed as her climax shook her body, he didn’t ease up his pounding. 

“I have to take all the holes,” he said by way of explanation, almost apologetically, as he grabbed his available wing and squeezed the base of the claw. She tensed, readying herself with this new invasion, gasping loudly for air, a sheen of sweat covering her brow and her chest. “Spread your legs, princess,” he ordered impatiently, “and hold them under your knees. Give me your tender pretty pussy to ride.”

She licked her lips, still and tight beneath him, the only motion between the two of them being his cock gliding in and out of her asshole. It wasn’t necessary, because she was already drenched, but Azriel spit in her pink slit and then slowly, but firmly eased his curved claw inside her welcoming opening. He worked the claw meticulously, feeding bit by bit into her, sinking into the blissful wet heat. He ignored her cries and teary whimpers, pushing the claw deeper and deeper, feeling his own scorching hot dick in her ass rubbing through the thin membrane. 

He leaned forward, his move causing both his cock and the claw to sink fully inside both of her holes and cupped her cheeks between his hands. 

“I love you. And I love it when you are double-penetrated. You are so beautiful. My lovely, perfect wife. My love.”

He wiped the tears that were slipping from her eyes and closed his own eyes, savouring the delicious, incredible sensation of being in both of her holes at once. Double penetration was never easy, but she took it willingly and allowed him to invade both of her tight passages whenever he wanted. And he wanted it pretty much all the time. Nothing, absolutely nothing, could ever compare to have his aching dick and his sensitive, tingling claws inside his wife at once. Wrapping his scarred palms over her silky, soft breasts he asked, “ready?”. She exhaled deeply, preparing herself and then nodded once. 

“Good girl. Letting her husband use her so well, letting him ride all her holes,” he cooed, forcing his wing to slide in and out of her pussy. He let her adjust, playing with her nipples, while she clawed at her forearms, still dazed and pained by the double penetration and wiggling her hips to get into a better position. While she tried to slow him down, he began thrusting in her ass again, pounding into her pussy at the same time, before bringing his other claw back to her lips. 

“That’s what good girls do,” he continued rambling, as he bottomed out in both of her holes again and again, “they let their husbands use them and their pretty holes, and get ridden hard and often. Fuck, treasure...you are so full of me! All your holes are stretched to the brim, but you are taking it so well.”

She was a vision, splayed in front of his eyes, her thighs open, having compliantly fallen to accommodate him. The rim of her asshole was swollen and red, and he watched his dick all but completely buried inside as he drilled her with short, powerful thrusts. The claw pumped in tandem to his cock, and he pushed it all the way inside of her, so that the smooth ivory disappeared entirely in her hole. Inside of her, he could feel the movement of both appendages, which was blowing his mind. He squeezed and pinched her nipples, while she sucked his other claw. He fucked her steadily and without pause for a while, finally coming inside her ass once, but he didn’t bother stopping or even pausing his thrusting. She was so compliant, completely unresisting, loving how he rode her so ferociously, that he didn’t dare change anything. He desperately wanted to see how big she’d gape for him with her used and abused anus, but he figured that she could take at least one more load of his cum in there before he pulled out.

“Do you want to ride me, princess?” he asked. Without interrupting her licking and sucking, she shook her head no. It wasn't surprising. His Ellie liked to be dominated in bed, and rarely took initiative to be on top of him. Unless he placed her on his dick and made her ride, she preferred him on top of her in any position. When it came to penetration, it was usually entirely his choice–where, how, how many holes and whether he wanted to be rough, or gentle. Her initiative was always with her mouth–she found the places she wanted to lick or suck or worship with her tongue and she went to work on him and his body. 

Before she could come, he withdrew and flipped her over, and she flopped on her front like a ragdoll. He shoved her legs wide apart and spread her thighs, positioning himself between them. Impatiently, he splayed her ass cheeks apart and whistled loudly. “Fuck. Me,” was all he could manage, as he watched with fascination the wide open hole that he’d drilled into her. He slapped both of her buttocks and told her, “I can see inside you, sweetness. Your asshole is full of cum, but I can see how tender and pink and pretty you are inside.”

He rubbed his dick urgently, eager to get back inside. 

“Your pussy needs my cum,” he decided. “I am going to fuck it now,”

She nodded obediently, knowing that he was going to put it in whatever hole he fancied at the moment.

He sunk into the tightness of her pussy in one strong, unwavering shove, filling her completely. Propping himself above her, he began fucking her hard and frantically, leaning closer and biting her neck. She mewled and sighed with pleasure, closing her eyes and enjoying the painful bite and the demanding pounding her pussy was receiving. He came inside of her quickly, filling her up, and then kneeled behind her and pulled her down by the hips, keeping his cock fully encased in her gloriously went centre. Spreading her cheeks apart, he then plunged his claw in her ass and used his hand to guide his thrusts, hammering the claw into her, while he began pumping her pussy with renewed enthusiasm. He wrapped his free hand around her neck and murmured into her ear, “I am going to choke you, sweetness, alright? I want you coming in both holes as I am choking you. When I am ready, I am going to come in your mouth so you can drink.”

He rubbed her neck in his huge hand and squeezed lightly. Whenever he took away her air, Elain orgasmed like she was possessed. The lack of oxygen made her climaxes last for minutes, and she trusted him to do it just right–squeeze hard enough for her to almost pass out, but not so tight that she didn’t feel the avalanche of her orgasms sweeping over her. Moving smoothly in her ass and her pussy, he squeezed her throat, careful to monitor how she responded and how her inner muscles tightened around him with every squeeze. He eased or increased the pressure of his fingers, while sliding his tongue in her mouth and making her suck on it. 

She was bleary-eyed and exhausted, her limbs soft and malleable, her holes succumbing to his savage thrusting, her breaths quiet and sharp. She just clutched her cheeks open for him, widening her hole for the claw as much as she could, but in these pre-orgasmic minutes she existed only for him and for his savagery. 

She came in her pussy first, crying and screaming loudly, bouncing beneath him as she shook and jerked, her passage spasming along his shaft. He fucked her through it, and then quickly withdrew and pushed her face in his lap, thrusting his wet dick in her mouth. 

“Suck until you come in your ass. I won’t give you any cum until you come all over my claw.”

-

Elain was standing by the mirror, putting in her earrings. She was completely naked, but she usually was in their Moon Palace, where they resided when they weren’t in Hewn City. In her Court, she usually wore slinky, flowing gowns, which enveloped her shapely body like second skin. Black or pearl-cream silk was her favourite. For formal occasions, she usually chose something with black and cobalt, the colours of her House and her husband. 

The Moon Palace was heated with magic, and only had three servants, while everything else was sustained by spells and various kinds of cardinal magic. Azriel’s responsibility centred around shields and wards, while Elain took care of everything else. 

Azriel was almost dressed, with only his suit jacket still draped over the chair. Elain would’ve been too, but he spent half an hour admiring the gaping hole of her ass, casually fingering her anus which was brimming with his cum. Then he dropped to his knees behind her and began licking her asshole like a man possessed. She had no other choice but to lean over the sink on her elbows and thrust her ass at him, while he licked the cum out of her. Once he was finally satisfied and she was messy from two orgasms, he let her dress. 

It was their weekly dinner at Rhysand and Feyre’s tonight, and while Azriel would’ve preferred to stay home, cook dinner and enjoy it with his wife, he knew that his brother would be disappointed if they didn’t show up. 

-

…Rhys and Cassian were lounging in the sitting room, enjoying brandy and the heat of the fireplace. 

“Az!” Rhysand greeted him. “You came!”

“Alright brother?” Cassian offered an easy nod.

“Alright,” Azriel responded in his usual laconic manner, before finding his usual seat in a large armchair. Elain sat next to him and he wrapped his arm around her.

“Anyone fancy greeting my wife?” he snapped.

Rhys pursed his lips, but inclined his head and nodded. “Good evening, Elain.”

Cassian waved a little wave. “Petal”.

Azriel wrapped his arms tighter around his wife’s soft form and watched Rhys sip his drink.

“Anything to report?” Cassian asked again.

Azriel nodded and said, “I think we’ve discovered who is responsible for setting fire to all the trade ships in the ports,”

Rhys perked up and leaned in, “You did?”

Azriel did not serve the High Lord in the same way he did before becoming the Prince of the Court of Nightmares, since he was now a Lord in his own right. However, for especially difficult espionage cases and information gathering, Rhys still relied on his former spymaster for help. Azriel didn’t mind it. He and his Ellie investigated cases together, and he loved spending that time together with her. Besides, she always liked to travel, and it allowed them the opportunity to visit various countries on the Continent. 

“So what? Talk to me!”

“We’ll have to check further,” Azriel stated vaguely. He hated giving incomplete information, but Rhys was always too eager and impatient.

“Can you give me a preliminary assessment?” Rhys insisted, his voice stern. It didn’t work on Azriel–the compulsion of the High Lord’s voice–which he used on others. Azriel had his own compulsion. 

“Rogue Fae who live in the Human Lands,” he explained. “Rebels, who are attempting to sow discord between the humans and the Prythian Fae. They are making it look like,”

“We are doing it,” Cassian concluded. “Prythian’s Fae, from above the former Wall,”

“Exactly,” Azriel agreed. 

The door opened and Nesta strolled in. 

“Oh, boy talk,” she scoffed.

“Male talk, Nes,” Cassian corrected his prickly mate. “Male.”

“Uh uh,” she muttered and made her way to Azriel and said, “Nice to see you, Az!” before stooping to kiss the top of his head. “Lainey girl, how are you?” she asked, kissing her sister as well. “I’ve missed you. You treating her well, Az?”

Rhys and Cassian watched her in silence, their expressions stony and sad somehow. 

“We are so good, Nesta,” he assured her. “My Ellie is very happy. Aren’t you, sweetness?”

“I overheard the last part of your conversation,” Nesta told them, taking her sister’s hand in hers. “Am I going on this mission with Az then?”

Azriel waved his hand, “I don’t think it’s necessary. Elain and I will do just fine. Won’t we, princess?”

Rhys interrupted them and said, “I think it might be prudent to go with Nesta, Az. Elain can go too, of course, but things could get dicey and Elain isn’t a fighter,”

“I just don’t think that Nesta needs to bother,” Azriel shrugged.

“Can you at least take Temal?” Cassian suggested.

Azriel bristled at the thought.

“I am not taking my son! By the gods, Cass. What the fuck? Why would we?”

Then he turned to Elain and asked, “unless you want him to accompany us, princess?”

He and his Ellie did not have biological children. They had tried for years, but then 100 years had passed, 200 years, and even longer, and she never conceived. They’ve been told that ‘it could happen at any time’ centuries ago, but lately, no one’s been giving those assurances anymore. Elain was young, but Azriel was over 800 years old, and it was unlikely that after all these years, he’d suddenly father a child. 

However, while he was trying to breed his wife year after year, they also went ahead and adopted an orphaned Illyrian boy named Temal. And somehow, along the way, Temal became perfectly enough for them. There was no need for other children for the two of them. Temal was a strapping lad, a capable five-syphon warrior, and an Illyrian Commander, who was married to an Illyrian princess. About two hundred years ago, they’d made Azriel and Elain grandparents for the first time, and Azriel absolutely adored his three grandchildren. But as for his own children–nah. Azriel was perfectly satisfied with what he had. Selfishly, he wasn’t too keen on sharing Elain with anyone, even his own offspring. His brothers and her sisters had five children between them and Azriel found himself long ago enjoying and relishing his role as an uncle. He was especially close to one of Nesta and Cassian’s daughters–Elena. She was the apple in his eye. However, when it came to Elain…there was something about childbirth that didn’t sit right with him. A gnawing thing in the back of his mind cautioned him…and he knew that something bad would happen…something sinister if she became pregnant. And he couldn’t risk it. He couldn’t risk Elain. Never. 

Rhys rose from the divan and said, “we’ll discuss it later. It’s dinner time. I don’t think that you going alone…well, the two of you…is enough. I want you to find someone in addition to,”

Irritated, Azriel interrupted,

“And when we find them? What then?”

Rhys shrugged.

“Obtain the necessary information and you can deal with them as you sit fit after that.”

#elriel #elain archeron #azriel and elain #pro elriel #elain x azriel #elain #elriel fanfic #my writing #A Ballad of Sorrow and Love #my fanfic #elriel month #elriel fic #elriel month 2024

[kdreamsound]

#jung joon il #mate #unrequited love #2015 #kballad #ballad #s: calm #m: sorrow #songs #music #audio

[kalisbaby]

“From the River to the Sea.” A Poem by Samer Abu Hawwash, translated by Huda Fakhreddine

every street, every house, every room, every window, every balcony, every wall, every stone, every sorrow, every word, every letter, every whisper, every touch, every glance, every kiss, every tree, every spear of grass, every tear, every scream, every air, every hope, every supplication, every secret, every well, every prayer, every song, every ballad, every book, every paper, every color, every ray, every cloud, every rain, every drop of rain, every drip of sweat, every lisp, every stutter, every yamma, mother, every yaba, father, every shadow, every light, every little hand that drew in a little notebook a tree or house or heart or a family of a father, a mother, siblings, and pets, every longing, every possibility, every letter between two lovers that arrived or didn’t arrive, every gasp of love dispersed in the distant clouds, every moment of despair at every turn, every suitcase on top of

every closet, every library, every shelf, every minaret, every rug, every bell toll in every church, every rosary, every holy praise, every arrival, every goodbye, every Good Morning, every Thank God, every ‘ala rasi, my pleasure, every hill ‘an sama’i, leave me alone, every rock, every wave, every grain of sand, every hair-do, every mirror, every glance in every mirror, every cat, every meow, every happy donkey, every sad donkey’s gaze, every pot, every vapor rising from every pot, every scent, every bowl, every school queue, every school shoes, every ring of the bell, every blackboard, every piece of chalk, every school costume, every mabruk ma ijakum, congratulations on the baby, every y ‘awid bi-salamtak, condolences, every ‘ayn al- ḥasud tibla bil-‘ama, may the envious be blinded, every photograph, every person in every photograph, every niyyalak, how lucky, every ishta’nalak, we’ve missed you, every grain of wheat in every bird’s gullet, every lock of hair, every hair knot, every hand, every foot, every football, every finger, every nail, every bicycle, every rider on every bicycle, every turn of air fanning from every bicycle, every bad joke, every mean joke, every laugh, every smile, every curse, every yearning, every fight, every sitti, grandma, every

sidi, grandpa, every meadow, every flower, every tree, every grove, every olive, every orange, every plastic rose covered with dust on an abandoned counter, every portrait of a martyr hanging on a wall since forever, every gravestone, every sura, every verse, every hymn, every ḥajj mabrur wa sa ‘yy mashkur, may your ḥajj and effort be rewarded, every yalla tnam yalla tnam, every lullaby, every red teddy bear on every Valentine’s, every clothesline, every hot skirt, every joyful dress, every torn trousers, every days-spun sweater, every button, every nail, every song, every ballad, every mirror, every peg, every bench, every shelf, every dream, every illusion, every hope, every disappointment, every hand holding another hand, every hand alone, every scattered thought, every beautiful thought, every terrifying thought, every whisper, every touch, every street, every house, every room, every balcony, every eye, every tear, every word, every letter, every name, every voice, every name, every house, every name, every face, every name, every cloud, every name, every rose, every name, every spear of grass, every name, every wave, every grain of sand, every street, every kiss, every image, every eye, every tear, every yamma, every yaba, every name, every name, every name, every name, every name, every name, every name, every name, all…

#free palestine #poetry #samer abu hawwash #huda fakhreddine

[unforth]

Danmei and Baihe C Novels and Manhua Officially Licensed in English

Things are getting licensed fast enough that keeping a list like this up-to-date is basically impossible, but I saw someone asking in the tags so I figured I'd try. All titles are danmei unless otherwise noted (very little baihe is licensed so far). I've included Chinese titles and linked novelupdates for each title when I was able to find them, but sometimes publishers change the original titles so much that I can't track them down, apologies.

Basically: this is everything I know of as of May 7, 2024. There might be more. I tried.

For the latest danmei news, Danmeinews.com is a great resources.

Note that some of this information was sourced from this Carrd, last updated in March 2023.

There is a list of danmei with official licenses on NovelUpdates, and a similar list on Goodreads. Both look fairly up to date to me. Here's another danmei-specific list on Reddit that to my eye looks accurate for the larger publishers but isn't thorough for some of the smaller ones.

-

Seven Seas:

The full list of danmei novels licensed by Seven Seas is here. The full list of danmei manhua licensed by Seven Seas is here.

These titles are in various stages of publication, from "entire series released" to "license literally announced less than a week ago." As far as I know, all Seven Seas titles are available world-wide, through major distributors and libraries, and in e-book and print formats.

Mo Xiang Tong Xiu titles:

The Scum Villain's Self-Saving System (Ren Zha Fanpai Zijiu Xitong).

Grandmaster of Demonic Cultivation (Mo Dao Zu Shi)

Grandmaster of Demonic Cultivation (Mo Dao Zu Shi) manhua

Heaven Official's Blessing (Tian Guan Ci Fu)

Meatbun Doesn't Eat Meat titles:

Case File Compendium (Bing an Ben)

The Husky and His White Cat Shizun (Erha he Ta de Bai Mao Shizun)

Remnants of Filth (Yuwu)

Meng Xi Shi titles:

Thousand Autumns (Qian Qiu)

Peerless (Wushuang)

priest titles:

Guardian (Zhenhun)

Stars of Chaos (Sha Po Lang)

Other titles:

Ballad of Sword and Wine (Qiang Jin Jiu) by Tang Jiuqing

I Ship My Rival x Me (Wo Kele Duijia x Wo de CP) manhua by PEPA

Run Wild (Saye) by Wu Zhe

The Disabled Tyrant's Beloved Pet Fish (Canji Baojun de Zhangxin Yu Chong) by Xue Shan Fei Hu

You've Got Mail: The Perils of Pigeon Post (Fei Ge Jiao You Xu Jin Shen) by Blackegg

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Rosmei:

Rosmei licenses are Singapore distribution rights only. There is a list of international partners organizing group orders here. I've personally placed my orders through Yiggybean, as discussed in reply to this ask.

These titles are only being released as print editions.

Eta: titles that weren't originally on JJWXC (of which there are several here) WILL have e-book editions.

Ning Yuan titles:

BAIHE: At the World's Mercy by Ning Yuan

BAIHE (I think???) The Creator's Grace by Ning Yuan

priest titles:

Coins of Destiny (Liu Yao)

The Defectives (Can Ci Pin)

Drowning Sorrows in Raging Fire (Lie Huo Jiao Chou)

Other titles:

Albert from Earth by Jie Mo Jun

The Bat (Bian Fu) by Feng Nong

Breaking Through the Clouds (Po Yun) by Huai Shang

Don't You Like Me (Ni Shi Bushi Xihuan Wo) by Lv Tian Yi

The Earth is Online (Diqiu Shangxian) by Mo Chen Huan

Everyone Loves the Cannon Fodder (Chuan Cheng Wan Ren Mi de Paohui Zhuma) by Qie Zai Shan Yang

Global Examination (Qianqiu Gao Kao) by Mu Su Li

Gold Class Enforcers (Jinpai Dashou) by Pao Pao Xue Er

How to Survive as a Villain (Chuanyue Cheng Fanpai Yao Ruhe Huming) by Yi Yi Yi Yi

Kaleidoscope of Death (Siwang Wanhuatong) by Xi Zi Xu

The Killer of Killers (Sha Qing) by Wu Yi

Nan Chan by Tang Jiuqing

Obsessed (Ki Ma) by Wu Chen Shui

Wine and Gun (Jiu yu Qiang) by Mengye Mengye

Wow, You Guys are Really Good at Gaming (Nimen Nansheng Da Youxi Hao Lihai O~) by Yi Xiu Luo

-

Peach Flower House:

Peach Flower House titles are primarily for sale through their website and through some distributors, such as Amazon.com. Whether titles are e-book only, print only, or both varies by title.

Da Feng Gua Guo:

The Imperial Uncle (Huang Shu)

Peach Blossom Debt (Taohua Zhai)

Other Titles:

Golden Terrace (Huang Jin Tai) by Cang Wu Bin Bai

In the Dark (Zai Hei An Zhong) by Jin Shisi Chai

Little Mushroom (Xiao Mogu) by Shisi

University of the Underworld by Ziloi

-

Via Lactea:

The full list of danmei novels licensed by Via Lactea is here.

Via Lactea titles are primarily for sale through their website and through some distributors, such as Amazon.com. All titles are either print-only or e-book + print. Only a handful have actually been released, the rest are licensed and presumably in progress.

Jing Shui Bian titles:

Salad Days (Jing Jiu)

Silent Hearts (Mo Mai)

Other Titles:

Dawning (Liming Zhihou) by ICE

Euthanasia by Feng Su Jun

Falling (Luo Chi) by Yu Cheng

Psycho (Feng Zi) by Xiao Yao Zi

Limerence (Wo Xichen Ni Nan Pengyou Henjiule) by Jiang Zi Bei

Lip and Sword (Chun Qiang) by Jin Shisi Chai

The Missing Piece (Maoheshenli) by Kun Yi Wei Lou

Raising Myself in 2006 by Qing Lv

Rose and Renaissance (Wo Zhi Xihuan Ni de Renshe [Yule Quan]) by Zhi Chu

Killing Show (Sha Lu Xiu) by Fox

Soul Vibration (Linghun Saodong) by Dr.solo

To Rule in a Turbulent World (Luan Shi Wei Wang) by Gu Xuerou

-

Monogatari Novels:

It is unclear to me if Monogatari Novel titles are available for world-wide distribution, but there are group orders being organized or I think they can be ordered directly from their webpage; they are based in Spain. These titles can also be ordered from at least some major retailers. Note that there has been some controversy about Monogatari Novels.

BAIHE: A Clear and Muddy Loss of Love (Jing Wei Qing Shang) by Please Don't Laugh

BAIHE: Female General and Eldest Princess (NuJiangjun he Zhang Gongzhu) by Please Don't Laugh

How to Survive as a Villain (Chuan Yue Cheng Fanpai Yao Ru He Huo Ming) manhua by Yi Yi Yi Yi

The Legendary Master's Wife (Chuanshuo Zhi Zhu de Furen) by Yin Ya

The Silent Concubine (Ya Nu) by Qiang Tang

BAIHE: Soulmate manhua by Wenzhi Lizi

-

Aloha Comics:

A tiny, Hawaii-based press focusing on manhua. Titles appear to primarily be available through Diamond Comics. There are also pre-orders on Yiggybean. All of these are pre-orders, though the earliest are coming out by the end of April 2024 (about two weeks after when I'm posting this).

All these titles are manhua!

Day Off by Qing Cai

Here U Are by DJUN

Link Click by Li Haoling and Haoliners (not technically danmei!)

Nirvana in Fire (Lang Ya Bang) by Hai Yan (not technically danmei!)

-

Chaleuria:

As far as I can tell, Chaleuria has not updated their webpage since April 2023, so the current status of in-progress titles is unknown. All titles are digital and/or e-book, and I'm not sure how to purchase them as I haven't tried.

Complete Guide to the Use and Care of a Personal Assistant (Zhuli Shiyong Zhinan) by Why Radiance

Deep in the Act (Ru Xi) by Tongzi

Fake Slackers (Wei Zhuang Xue Zha) by Mu Gua Huang (no longer available)

From Body to Love (Leng Yan E Nan: Xian Shenhou Ai) by Wan Wan Yi Xia

Interstellar Power Couple (Xingji Qiangli Lianyin) by Kun Cheng Xiongmao (no longer available)

Intoxicated Friends (Zui Qing Zhi Pengyou) by Ye Shu Ying

The Long Chase for the President's Spouse (Zongcai Zhui Fu Lu Manman) by Three Thousand Crow Language

Reborn into a Hamster for 233 Days (Chong Shengcheng Cangshu de 233 Tian) by Yi Shu

Records of the Dragon Follower (Cong Long Ji) by Yueren Ge

Urban Tales of Demons and Spirits (Dushi Yaogui Lu) by Qie Er

World Hopping: Avenge Our Love (Ni Wufa Yuliao de Fenshou, Wo Du Neng Gei Ni Song Shang) by Xiaomao Bu Ai Jiao (no longer available)

-

Webnovel:

When I first made this list, I heard that Webnovel had a few titles but couldn't actually find them - but now I've found them, thanks to a list someone else put together. I'm including direct links to them, since I had so much trouble finding them at all.

Comrade: Almost a Cat-astrophic Love Story (Jintian ye Yao Nuli Dang Zhimao) by Demonic Fire (link)

My Boyfriend is a Dragon (Nanpiao Shi Tiaolong) by Chubby Strawberry Sauce (link)

The National Sweetheart Livestreamer is a Pro! (Quanmin Zhubo Shi Duiba) by Mo Shang Wang (link)

Honorable Mentions:

There are a handful of titles I know of that are official translations of C Novels, where the C Novels aren't danmei or baihe but are often treated as adjacent within fandom (as in: I've seen people shipping characters from them, lol). I've included two above under the entry for titles from Aloha Comics (Link Click and Nirvana in Fire) and here are a couple others I currently know of:

The Grave Robbers' Chronicles (Daomu Biji) by Nanpai Sanshu (six volumes are available in English from Things Asian Press

The Legend of the Condor Heroes (She Diao Yingxiong Chuan) by Jin Yong from St. Martin's Press

Romance of the Three Kingdoms (Sanguo Yanyi), attributed to Luo Guanzhong, available in multiple translations

The Seven Heroes and Five Gallants (Zonglie Xiayi Chuan), attributed to Shi Yukun, there are two translations to English listed at the linked Wikipedia page

Note that to the best of my knowledge both of these are considered very substandard translations. I've personally read the official DMBJ translations and... yeah... and I've heard the LOCH translation is also mediocre.

I will add to the "Honorable Mentions" list if I find any other more mainstream titles with official translations.

Please don't come at me for including a couple classics. The characters shippable, what can I do? I've written fic for Romance of the Three Kingdoms...

-

A handful of other licenses are mentioned on the Carrd I linked at the beginning of this post; I have no idea the status of those titles and wasn't able to find information on them while putting together this post other than what was listed on that Carrd, so I've omitted them.

As a final note, I've personally purchased from every printer on this list EXCEPT Monogatari Novels (I'm holding off because of the controversy and will see how things play out) and Chaleuria (which I vaguely knew existed but nothing beyond that).

Seven Seas translation varies but the editing is general strong and the editions are sturdy and nice. Extras that have come with final volumes are lovely. I am buying literally everything they publish except for You've Got Mail, due to information about the author that was shared with me that the author is a transphobe. Note that Kinnporsche by Daemi is not danmei as it's Thai (and I've heard unsavory things about the author - I don't have a link for that as the information was shared with me on Discord, and I encourage you to do your own research rather than taking my word for it). No judgement if you make a different choice than me, to be clear, I'm just sharing the information I have and why I personally am not buying the books). Note that Seven Seas isn't without controversy, especially for treating their contractors poorly resulting in them unionizing. Some people have also been unhappy with the fidelity of their translations compared to the original Chinese (I've been satisfied personally but ymmv).

Peach Flower House has inconsistent inconsistent editing quality, but the books are very readable, and I'm excited that they're working with translators such as E. Danglars. I haven't bought any of their special editions so can't speak to their extras, but I've bought all their print translations and will continue to do so going forward.

I just got my first title from Via Lactea last week and finished reading it on Sunday, and the translation read very well and there were minimal errors. It also came with a bundle of cute extras, which I wasn't expecting and pleased, and writing this post has caused me to cave and spend $150 to buy the rest of their books. Thank you, tax refund. (Should I spend this money? No. Did I anyway? ...)

No Rosmei titles have actually shipped yet, so I can't speak to their quality, though the previews they've shared on social media (as outlined here, for example) read decently and I'm optimistic. The cover art is also lovely, and they've been communicative and responsive, for example they've already issued a statement related to a recent controversy over perceived poor marketing for At the World's Mercy.

Tl:dr, the above is absolutely everything I personally know about mlm and wlw Chinese novels and manhua that have been licensed for English publication. I hope it helps someone.

Now go forth, and buy some books!

#danmei #baihe #mxtx #priest #priest novels #tang jiuqing #mu su li #meng xi shi #yi yi yi yi #this probably needs a billion other tags but oh well #i've been meaning to write something like this for ages #like there's literally a similar post saved in my drafts #but apparently today is the day i don't have the willpower to not #as also evidenced by my literally buying some of these books while in the middle of putting the post together lmao #i broke a windshield wiper on sunday and SHOULD spend money fixing that instead but here we are #at least it's the passenger side wiper??? #anyway as always just tryin to do my part to get people to read more than just mxtx #not that i don't love mxtx #but please guys there's so much amazing stuff out there READ MORE BOOKS

[kneelingshadowsalome]

Salome!

"La Belle Dame sans Mercy" ("The Beautiful Lady Without Mercy") - A ballad by John Keats

"The poem is about a fairy who condemns a knight to an unpleasant fate after she seduces him with her eyes and singing." please

This screams Knight!König x Fairy!Reader to me.

I just know König would gladly die by the hand of such an ethereal being.

"She looked at me as she did love, and made a sweet moan."

"And sure in language strange she said—'I love thee true.'"

That’s it. Thank you.

I swear this artwork kills me everytime I see it....

Ok this became the silliest fairytale ever 🩷✨️

CW: Historical AU blending with mythical/supernatural AU. König being a dreamy mess of a knight who doesn't fit in "normal" society. Reader is part of faefolk. Heavy Arthurian Romance vibes.

König returns to the castle one day. The son of a great liege lord, a warrior through and through, but some people say he should’ve been a poet: so dreamily he looks beyond the battlements at times, sighs after drinking too much wine, stares off into dark corners of the room while tending to his sword and armour as if he can see little pixies dancing there.

His siblings sometimes hit him on the back of his head, or wave a hand over his eyes when he’s about to slip into the fairy world, a forgotten plane that is not supposed to reach the castle. But the castle stones were taken from the moors and the woods, the old land not bending to the priest’s will no matter how many crosses they brought here. Fragile souls are wanton prey for the elves and the fairies who would take them to their land the moment they drop down their guard, and only prayer and fasting hold them at bay. In the fairylands, there is no toil or sorrow; the food is golden honey and wine, the dance and love everlasting, and the fae girls more beautiful than any human maid.

It sounded too good to be true, and it was: God had created men to work and women to give birth, and all the land was theirs to use and cultivate, it was not made to simply run and frolic upon. Some say that these were just old tales and that Christ would banish these creatures away, turn the land to yielding crops and tame firewood.

But some still believed.

When he was a child, the mighty son of the feared lord took porridge and almonds to the woods. “For the fairy people,” he said with bright, trusting eyes. Stole food from under the mistress’s nose, and no one ever dared to say anything about it.

But when this nonsense carried on to adulthood, people had to intervene. There was work to be done, war, harvest and building, and no matter how many coins this man paid to the visiting bards, it would never turn their stories true.

His arm was strong and his strike was true, but his head seemed to be filled with dandelion wine, even when he hadn’t been drinking. Sighed after this maiden or that, wished to travel to foreign lands, courted every nobleman’s daughter who visited the castle, but no one ever took him seriously.

This man had to watch how lady after lady chose some other valiant knight as their husband, some men whose heads were not filled with fairytales and dreams. They did flirt with him, for who could’ve resisted the temptation of making this giant a little sweaty under all that armor? Armor that demanded plate for two people, and a smith who had the talent to forge such a beastly thing.

Nevertheless, he was always left without a warm embrace, and so he was usually found outside, looking at the full moon or spending time in taverns, choosing the company of thieves and rascals over his serious kin.

And now he has returned from the woods, having been gone for months.

People thought he had finally left to fight for some other lord, posing as a simple footsoldier, a disguise that would relieve him of his tedious duties as a knight. Or to court some “lovely peasant girl” he always talked about – such talks were usually crushed by his father, demanding him to be sensible for once in his life.

But he doesn’t prattle about peasant girls now, nor does he ramble about screaming ships at the bottom of the sea. He doesn’t hold a speech about forgotten stone circles in the forest, the ones that already grow moss. No, he has finally lost it completely.

His eyes are wild, as is his hair; his armour is nowhere to be seen, and his sword is without its sheath. He doesn’t talk about what he saw in that forest to anyone, nor is he willing to tell where he has even been these past few moons.

He seems very shaken when he’s told they were worried he wouldn’t make it to the May Day feast, and asks for how long he was gone, drives a hand through dishevelled hair when he hears that he was away for three full months.

“Three months…” he mutters to himself, then leaves to his room, the huge sword dragging against the stone floor as he goes. He has always, always made sure it wouldn’t dull, but now he’s treating it like it’s become a part of him, confused and lost.

He doesn’t eat, hardly speaks after that.

The food tastes like ash, he says, and the ale tastes like bile. But the following evening, when his mother orders someone to pour her poor son some more wine, he looks up helplessly like a child.

“I have to go back,” he says.

A clamour arises, huffed exclaims of “What on earth is he on about” and “Sir, you only just got back!” His father rises from his chair and orders him to stop this nonsense at once. But this time, there is no embarrassed sweep of hand through hair, no red colour that rises on this peculiar knight’s cheeks. His lips only make a thin line before he rises as well and leaves the hall with a weight on his shoulders and dark determination in his stare.

At the stables, a stout Moorland pony and poor stable boy get to witness the drunken bawls of a forlorn knight. The wine sack almost slips from his hands to the dirt as he slumps against the timber of the stall, distorted face coming to rest against a wide, shaky palm.

Luckily, a friend of his knows where to look, and the stable boy sneaks into the shadows, slightly scared of the sorrow of such a big, intimidating man.

But even the companion who always listened to every enthusiastic story since they were kids and ran across the moors, throwing little rocks at his father’s soldiers and laughing when their helmets made a funny clinky sound, can not understand the drunken babble that comes out of König’s mouth this time.

He starts from the middle, which is highly unusual, and talks in strings of sentences that don’t make sense. “She was real, I just know it,” he repeats, over and over again in the middle of confessions about how beautiful she was, how her hair was like the softest spun yarn, her body incredible, naked and wild when she came to him. That her laugh was like the chime of little bells or the sound of the loveliest harp, a song on its own when she walked to him.

She was fascinated with his sword, especially the pommel and the handle interested her, and the curve in the middle of the blade she brushed with her fingers as if it was an entire vale.

He had never seen a woman touch his sword like that… They were never interested in such things, but she was, and she asked him so many questions.

Had he ever felled a tree?

Did he like squirrels?

Were his thighs as hairy as his chest?

She took him down the river, or he followed her; he can’t remember. Her step was so light it didn’t make a sound, and the moss seemed to turn brighter every time her little foot stepped on it. Her hands were tiny too when she wrapped them around his neck, pressed her body against his, and kissed him until there was nothing left of him: no helmet, no sword, nothing but sun and her, her hands and her lips.

Her mouth was still on his when she whispered she didn’t like his armour because it was so hard and rigid and cold, oh, she wondered if there was a man inside there at all.

So of course he showed her.

She giggled at the sight of him, especially his thighs, knelt down on the moss to see how hairy they were.

And would you believe the way she touched him then? It makes him heady even now…

Yes, he took her. But not the way a man takes a woman. She came to straddle him and laughed again, and the things they did together… He can’t even speak about them, but he knows the sun always shined when they rolled on the grass. Her giggles and moans surrounded him, her soft little thighs were stronger than they looked, her breasts so round and soft, so perfect he swore he had gone to heaven.

He bathed in her, with her, all day long. And the nights… You wouldn’t believe the nights: there was song and dance and more giggling women, and also a man dressed all in leaves, so big and thick he first thought he was a tree. An old king, she said, nothing he should worry about. And the wine tasted like summer and honey and gold; it was red, perhaps, but also like sea amber and sun…

She fed him flowers and laughed, caressed his face and said he’s the biggest and hairiest human she had ever seen. She let him lick honey from her fingertips and caressed him with heather and ivy, opened her mouth before feeding him a soft, sweet piece of cake, showing him how he needed to open his mouth as well if he wanted it on his tongue.

She kissed the crumbs from his lips and trailed a finger down his chest, all the way down, until…

Oh, he can’t talk about it.

It was better than he ever even imagined: better than the stories they tell in the taverns. It was like his wedding night, over and over again, it was like he was Lancelot, and she was his Guinevere.

No, no, she was not an enchantress, although everything about her was enchanting... All the stories came alive with her, even the moon was bigger than anywhere he’d ever seen, the deers ran past them while they made love, and the birds sang even at night.

He told her he loved her, but she didn’t know what it meant. When he explained it to her, she looked at him gently, so gently…

He cried from joy then, but she never mocked him. She only said it’s a sign that he’s hers. That he will never forget her. She said he’ll always find her, even when he’s old: she will make him young again. He’s welcome here if he wants: she has so many places to show him.

He thanked all the saints for having found her, Saint George and Saint Mary first, but stopped when her little brows furrowed with sorrow. Her eyes, filled with starlight and love, turned so sad that his heart couldn’t bear it, not for one beat.

The sea is far wilder here: he should come and see the ocean as it was at the dawn of time. The ivy is so strong you can use it to climb the trees and see the whole world from atop the tree, the whole land, covered in forest, such as it was before humans came. There’s no smoke or fire or war: just green everywhere, wild rippling streams and honey bees and berries and fish for everyone who ever feels hungry... They can make love day and night, and she’ll teach him all the songs of old. Humans only remember bits and pieces, but she knows how things really happened, she can tell him everything about heroes, kings and queens.

She said she wanted to sleep, and so he took her from the feast and laid her on the grass… She might’ve sung to him, he can’t remember, but it was like an angel’s caress all over him, somber and sweet before the dreams took him, a dream within a dream.

He slept for ages, it seemed, saw so many dreams, each more beautiful than the last until he woke up and saw that the forest had turned grey.

There was no maiden in his lap, no dance and song in the distance, no scent of flowers and dreams and springs to be found. The sun was up in the sky, but it didn’t paint all the colours with gold or fill the streams with light. The forest was half dead to him, just old, thick trees around him, a green-grey forest floor and a shaggy squirrel who chirped and squeaked at him as if it was his fault that the fae folk were gone.

He searched for her, called for her, but she didn’t answer, and how could she have? He didn’t even know her name. He only knew how lovely she felt, how soft her hair was when it fell to cover him like a veil, how adorable her sighs and tiny little gasps were when he filled her, over and over again.

His armour was nowhere to be found, and his sword was somewhere downstream, half covered with leaves and dirt, rusty and beaten by the wind. It was early spring when he came here; the land was still barren and grey, but now, everything was green. Still, it was not the green he wanted. It was not the green that filled his vision entirely, bright, blooming green that pulsed with lush joy. It was just… earth and grass and dirt.

So you see, he has to go back. He has to find her, whatever it takes. She promised he could always come back… She promised…

He cries once more, head bowed and mighty shoulders trembling from the force of his sorrow, and it is no use to tell him that the fae folk are evil. That they’re from the Devil and only want to make good, decent men like them forget. Forget their duty, their laws, their Christ.

It’s no use to tell him that it is not natural, the place he has seen. No doubt he has been somewhere, but it cannot be anything good… No man can survive on flowers and spring water for three months; they cannot frolic with the faeries for days on end without losing their mind and soul.

And König is already lost; he was lost since he was a child, rambling about how he received flowers, sticks and stones as tokens of the faefolk’s gratitude because he brought them food.

He tries to tell the boy who never grew up, the mightiest man in this kingdom, the dreamiest knight there ever was, that he needs to return to the real world. No fae woman would have him as a husband, they are only after his soul. But surely some human lady would take him into her bed, think about it, for God’s sake, please... He has duties here, people who love him, his father would make him a lord if he only put himself together. What kind of knight would abandon his sword, helmet and armour for the sake of an elf who despises the saints...?

But in the morn, König is gone.

His rusty sword is on the floor, the wooden cross taken off the wall. There lies a honeycomb and a flower on his window, a blossom so sweet it cannot be plucked from any field around here. Too exotic and bright, especially when placed atop the rough, grey stones, it looks like it could never wither from how beautifully it blooms.

The peasants now tell a tale of a man that haunts the woods: a huge giant dressed all in green, donning a leaf cloak of some sort and a beard that grows ivy. But they say he is not evil: he only shows himself to hunters who are about to fall a deer, or children who remember the land with little gifts.

Old men say they saw a green man when they were kids and brought bread and milk to the faeries, they swear to this day they saw a man who greeted them with a smile. And when they looked again, there was nothing but a tree where this giant stook, a young oak, sighing with the wind...

#könig x reader #könig x you #mythology au #arthurian au #historical au

[xtra7s]

Well, since we know her iconic SNL performance (which was on loop) how would r react. Cause like I'm in love with herrrr. It could be like a live reaction or they are live and fans requested for a reaction vid

(Just a gay thought)

𝐒𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐒𝐏𝐄𝐂𝐈𝐀𝐋: 𝐒𝐍𝐋 ─── 𝘙𝘦𝘯𝘦𝘦 𝘙𝘢𝘱𝘱 𝘹 𝘙𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳

Synopsis: Y/N watches Renee preform on SNL.

Content: Renee Rapp x Fem!Reader, literally just Y/N swooning over Renee as she preforms, complete fluff

Word Count: 1.1k

masterlist | first part | second part | third part

a/n: I LOVED WRITING THIS, I added Snow Angel too because I felt like it was too short with just Not My Fault. Hope you enjoy!!

The stage lights bathed Renee Rapp in a warm glow as she took center stage on Saturday Night Live. The hushed anticipation in the studio was palpable, but amidst the cheering crowd, Y/N sat, fidgeting with nervous excitement. It was a secret thrill, knowing that the woman who held her heart was about to captivate the world.

Jacob Elordi was on stage, smiling widely as he introduced Renee. "Ladies and gentlemen, Renee Rapp!"

The stage was set in a soft, ethereal light as Renee Rapp prepared to perform "Snow Angel" on Saturday Night Live. The melancholic notes of the piano filled the studio, creating an atmosphere of haunting beauty. The audience hushed in anticipation as Renee lay on the stage floor, an ethereal figure amidst the gentle glow.

Y/N, seated amidst the crowd, watched with bated breath. As the first lines of the sorrowful ballad left Renee's lips, a wave of emotion washed over the audience. Renee's voice, rich with emotion, painted a poignant picture of heartache and longing. The harmonies join her as she sings, and Y/N finds herself captivated, unable to tear her gaze away from the captivating performance unfolding before her.

Renee's form on the ground seemed to embody the weight of the song's melancholy. The vulnerability in her voice resonated, and Y/N felt a deep connection to the emotions conveyed. The crowd sat in rapt silence, collectively holding their breath, as Renee lay there, pouring her heart into each delicate lyric.

More instruments joined the song, Renee standing up from the floor as the song swelled. The melancholy tones transitioned into a powerful crescendo, and the studio transformed into a sea of emotions. Y/N, now on the edge of her seat, felt a lump forming in her throat. The raw intensity of the performance left her in awe, a silent witness to the soul-baring artistry on display.

As Renee's voice soared through the studio, Y/N couldn't help but feel a deep admiration for the vulnerability and strength intertwined in the performance. It was a heartbreaking and beautiful symphony, and Y/N found herself lost in the haunting melody, her emotions mirroring the raw intensity and flow of the song.

When the final note hung in the air, the studio erupted into applause. Y/N joined in, her admiration for Renee's talent mingling with a profound sense of connection. As Renee smiled and the lights dimmed, she spun around and applauded the people playing the instruments to her song. Y/N couldn't shake the lingering impact of the song, grateful to have been present for a performance that transcended the stage and touched the depths of her soul.

After a short break, Jacob Elordi hosting and speaking, Rachel McAdams Walks on stage, smiling at the applause before gesturing her hands up.

"Ladies and gentlemen, once again, Renee Rapp!" She speaks loudly, gesturing her arms to the stage Renee is standing on top of.

The first notes of "Not My Fault" begin to float through the air, and Y/N's gaze is fixed on Renee. The way she was dancing, the raw power in her voice, the way she effortlessly commanded the stage, left Y/N breathless. Each lyric that came from her mouth had Y/N squirming in her seat. The crowd responded with thunderous applause, but for Y/N, it was a personal serenade, an intimate connection she could only share in secret.

"god damn, she looks so good I could die," Y/N murmurs under her breath, sitting up and adjusting in her seat.

As the song continued, Renee's stage presence intensified, her magnetic energy filling the room. Y/N couldn't help but feel a swell of emotion, pride, and an ache in her chest from the sheer brilliance of the performance. It was a potent mix of love and admiration, leaving her utterly flustered in the midst of the electrifying moment.

The entire time Renee has been singing, Y/N's eyes have been drifting down her neck to her stomach, her cheeks covered in a maroon shade as she takes in Renee's outfit. 

she has too much trust in that top.

Renee does a little dance as she sings with the backup dancers, getting to Y/N's favorite part. "Get her number, get her name, get a good thing while you can. Kiss a blonde, kiss a friend, can a gay girl get an amen?"

Y/N was immediately standing as she watched this, yelling out amen after Renee sang that part. Renee notices her in the crowd beyond the blinding lights and sends a wink her way.

The cake begins to spin around as Renee is singing, revealing Megan Thee Stallion as she raps her part of the song. Renee does a little dance in front of Megan as she sings, them both going into sync as they do their choreography. Renee sticks her tongue out while she smiles, making the cheers louder around Y/N.

Renee dances with her hands in the air and does a body roll as Megan sings, pulling her mic back to her face and singing again. It's short-lived as the song is getting to an end, Megan speaking into her mic. "What's up SNL??!" The cheers get louder as she does, Renee joining in. "Give it up for Megan Thee Stallion!!" She yells into the mic, jokingly twerking for a second before jumping back into the end of the song, "It's not my fault you're like in love with me." She sings as she gets closer to Megan, turning her head to smile at her. "You're like in love with me."

When the final notes hung in the air, the applause was deafening. Y/N joined in, clapping enthusiastically, but her eyes never left Renee. The stage seemed to shimmer around her secret girlfriend, a beacon of talent and passion that left Y/N in awe.

As Renee laughed with Megan and then hugged her, waving to the stage before rushing off stage the applause echoed, and Y/N couldn't suppress the giddy smile that spread across her face. She had witnessed something extraordinary, something incredibly sexy and beautiful, and it filled her with a warmth that lingered long after the lights dimmed. In the secrecy of the crowd, Y/N reveled in the magic of being in love with a woman who could command a stage with such brilliance, all while keeping their connection hidden like a precious secret between the notes of a song.

#renee rapp x reader #renee rapp #lesbian #wlw #the sex lives of college girls #leighton murray #leighton murray x reader #mean girls #snl #saturday night live #something special

[kaixserzz]

eons adrift ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ wanderer x gn!reader

˗ˏˋ꒰ 🎐 ꒱ "i'll come and find you in every life celestia will give me." "that's not possible, you and i both know that." "watch me!"

 ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ cw: character analysis-ish, mildly proofread, drabble but it's kinda messy, its more like an idea than a fic LOLLL im sorry, hurt/comfort

scaramouche took you for a naive fool, just as he was when oh so stupidly believed those words as kunikuzushi.

you are but a human. a mere breath of his everlasting eternity. a few hundreds of years and he would forget everything about you.

insignificant, you humans were.

frail.

vulnerable.

so so easy to break.

as he walked into the path of darkness; consuming him and turning him into someone he doesn't recognize in the mirror no longer—kabukimono, kunikuzushi, the love of your life, was long gone. memories like the leaves that turn yellow and crumble to ashes as winter approaches.

yet the winter will remain in his empty chest for as long as he walks teyvat. churning into a blizzard of ice cold pain, destroying everything around him as it grows. he continues to walk this wretched path he chose.

but then he met someone, rekindling the spark that was once there beneath his porcelain skin. trying to light up a burn out wick, to bring an end to his winter and bring forth the beautiful spring he was once.

scaramouche never thought he'd love again.

even after all through the pain he went from the doctor's experiments, after roaming the great expanse of the abyss, after becoming the balladeer, the 6th of the fatui harbingers, he still felt.

love.

happiness.

pain.

sorrow.

and regret.

he hates it, but he loves them, just as much as he loved you.

though he allowed someone new worm their way into his heart, he kept them in arm's reach. he cannot bear to be vulnerable to someone else. they were human, they were to die; he is a puppet, he is meant to live on forever.

but then he heard them say things only you would say. giving him lavender melons you bought off the market, accidentally calling him names only you would know.

he remember that promise you made him before you died.

"i'll come and find you in every life celestia will give me."

scaramouche did not understand what he felt when he realized that his new lover, was in fact, just a reincarnation of you. and just like that, your name burns back itself into his mind—a name he thought he had erased into obscurity, along with his past.

he was a fool, scaramouche thought. he laughed at himself, a laugh void of humor, nor joy.

it was your name, your first incarnation, just in a different language.

it appears that scaramouche didn't like this feeling. of bitter butterflies in his stomach, the familiarity when you try to get close to him, the same smile you had, the light full of love in your eyes—it was all too much for him.

so he left you in the snow of his ever growing blizzard. buried under the thick layers of freezing ice.

and again, to your next reincarnation. a fatui, a vendor, an adventurer, a knight, a scholar—male, female, neither, or all of them; tall, short, plump, slim, dark or light skinned,

he cannot bear to lose you just as he first did.

slipping by his fingers, to the one thing he is not affected by.

death.

he doesn't accept the fact that your love has led you back to him, again and again.

why do you even keep coming back? don't you know he's part of the fatui? don't you know what he has done? don't you know what he has become?

and yet you'd knock on his door, calling his name with your voice full of warmth, arms wide for him to take and allow himself to be called yours again—all he had to do was open the door.

he has kept a lock on it ever since he met you again.

worn down and rotten; chains all rusted, handle jammed and barely working. he approaches the door once again. this time, as wanderer. a better version of himself,

one that's finally willing to open the door to you.

but you weren't there anymore, waiting for him on the other side.

how could you? you were never there in the first place.

not with this version of himself.

not as the wanderer.

and maybe that was for the best. even though he cries himself to sleep at night for all the things he has done to you. weeping, as he curls onto the sheets, praying to the stars above in hopes you'd hear his heartbroken apologies, yearning for your love, your touch, your smiles—

this was his punishment for hurting you, for being a fool. he was underserving of your love, after all.

"hey, wanderer, was it?"

a new voice, someone unfamiliar. he refrained from sighing, for buer's sake, and instead took a deep, refreshing breath. he turns, and the stranger smiles brightly at him.

immediately, as if the winds of spring has hit him all so suddenly in the face. the fragrance of blooming flowers that was once buried under the snow, the sun shining brightly in the skies, and birds chirping symphonies.

like the mornings brimming with new found hope, the smell of dew sticking onto his clothes as he trace his fingers all over the a tree's trunk. like the the juices of a fruit he sank his teeth into, dribbling down the corners of his lips and down his arms.

warmth tingled on his skin, and his heart leaps.

"nice to meet you!" you say your name, a name he has heard hundreds of versions before, all so different and yet they all felt and tasted like honey dripping down his tongue. "i hope we get along."

"yeah," he says, almost breathless, as the tears begins to well in his eyes. his fingers tremble, and his smile grew wobbly. tipping his hat down to avoid your gaze, his voice cracks. "i hope so too."

his door was wide open, waiting for you come in.

you grin, and take a step inside.

 ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚

author's note: "i thought this was a dottore only blog? SHUT UP!!!!! SHUT UP!!! 🥹🥹🥹🥹 IM MAD AT MYSELF TOO BUT THIS IS FOR @fatuismooches also new format because im too lazy to open my files :/ not back yet, i just wanna write this for the pookie 💗💗 ty for listening to me ramble like a madman ur single handedly gettin me thru it ong LMAOOO /lh

#favoniuslibrary #˚₊໒🔪꒱kai writes₊˚ #╰┈➤ wanderer #wanderer x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #genhin impact #scaramouche x reader #listening to mitski's new album to this #this is like #so so bad but bear with me #i dont feel well ok 😭😭 #idea came to me while im in the shower

[lizzyk137]

A Night of Brownies and Wine- Agent Gibbs Fanfic (Gibbs X Reader)

Summary: When your brain overthinks, Gibbs tells you his feelings. Warnings: Angst, fluff, really light mention of sexual activity, overthinking

Want to read more, visit my Masterlist!

"Gibbs! Gibbs! Gibbs!" Abby screamed out as she hurriedly made her way towards his desk.

"What, Abs?" He looked up over his glasses that was perched on his nose.

Her chunky heeled shoes came to a halt by his desk. "Have you seen Y/N?"

He took off his glasses. "No, why?"

"She was supposed to meet me and McGee tonight for our weekly gaming night, but she never showed up and we can't trace her phone so I thought I'd find you because you might know where she was." Abby said all in one breath.

"I haven't seen her all day. I'll let you know if I find her." He gave a small smile to Abby as he collected his items, giving her a small kiss on the cheek and headed towards the elevators.

He made his way to his truck and headed home. He knew where you were, he could easily read you and could always find your location depending on your mood. And today he knew exactly where he could find you.

He opened the front door and headed for the kitchen; a chocolate mess was the only thing that was left to show you were there. He headed for the basement door, where the quiet sound of pop music made its way to his ears.

Heading down the steps he found you in one of his oversized NCIS shirts, no pants wearing your fluffy slippers as you swayed to a K-pop ballad, a brownie in one hand and a bottle of rose in the other. Gibbs leaned against the railing as he watched you, a smirk spreading across his lips while he watched your hips sway back and forth.

"You know you have your own place to do this in." He called out, watching you jump slightly before turning around to face him.

"Yeah, but my house doesn't have a boat in it. Plus, I know you love my brownies amongst other things." You winked as Gibbs walked over to you, giving you a kiss on the forehead.

"What's wrong?" Gibbs took off his long coat and draped it over your shoulders, his warmth enveloping you.

You shook your head, setting down your brownie and bottle of wine on a random small table around Gibbs' boat. "Nothing is wrong. It's just my brain being silly."

Gibbs' hands grabbed your hips and backed you up, your butt lightly bumping into the boat behind you. One hand cupped the side of your face, his fingers tangling into your hair, the other hand still on your hip. "Y/N, your brain is not silly. Tell me."

You looked away and blew out a breath. "Just this undercover op has my brain overthinking."

"About what?"

"About us!" You could feel the tears prickling your eyes, threatening to overflow, but you wouldn't let them.

"What about us?"

"That all we are is just work." Your voice was barely a whisper, because you didn't have the heart to admit what you had with Gibbs louder.

You knew work was always going to be the number one priority for him, the constant in his life. You were just something new that was stumbled upon, not something to be around long term. The whole agency knew you two were an item, so any undercover ops or improv on the job always had you two as a couple, but those moments were sweeter, and more love filled than the times you were alone together. It felt like all you were ever going to be was simply just a cover, no matter how hard you tried not to admit it. You knew the truth.

Gibbs didn't love you. Not like you loved him. He may love you in the same way he loved Abby or Ziva except with extra perks, but that was it. He never asked to see you, never asked you out on dates, never had been over to your place, drove in your car, asked about your family, hell, he never even asked about you. And you finally admitted it to yourself.

So, you decided to drown your sorrows in many bottles of wine and brownies.

And there he was, Gibbs, this amazing man who never really talked but always seemed to know what to do, and he was standing in front of you with his hands gently cradling your body, his eyes fill with confusion and worry as he looked at you.

Gibbs opened his mouth then closed it and thought for a second before asking, "What does right now count as?"

"I don't mean right now," you sighed the continued, "I mean the rest of the time. It's always work, never just us."

"I-I don't know what to say." Gibbs stuttered as he watched the woman he loves start to crumble in front of him. Her eyes were watery, but she wasn't letting the tears fall down, and he wasn't sure he wanted to see her cry. He'd never seen her cry in all the years he's known her. Not when she broke any of her bones, not when she was slammed into a concrete wall and hit her head, not when she lost her grandma. She had held herself together, at least in front of him.

"You never say anything!" Your voice raised, and you turned your back on him, tears slowly rolling down your face.

Gibbs hands slid back down when she turned away from him. What could he do? She was upset and he understood why. He didn't do enough. Wasn't what she needed.

He had always been about work since Kelly and Shannon passed away and nothing had changed over the years with his ex-wives or his past relationships. He didn't think anything of it. Nothing he did was any different than what he has done and now that she said something out loud, he realized that all those past relationships had never worked out because of what he was doing. He was doing absolutely nothing.

His thoughts were interrupted when a sob escaped from the woman in front of him.

"Y/N..." His voice cracked; he couldn't help feeling his heart shatter when that sob reached his ears. He brought his body closer to yours, his arms circling your body. "I- I know I'm not good enough for you. I don't put much effort into anything but work, but I do love you. I'm not good with words." He stopped for a second and rested his forehead against the back of your head. "I don't want to see you cry. I understand if you don't stay but I don't want to lose you."

The pain in his voice was front and center and you couldn't hear anything else but that. You turned around in his arms and sighed before nuzzling your head into his chest.

"Words aren't enough, Jethro."

"I know. I can't promise I'll be a changed man right off, but I'll try my hardest to be better."

"All I ask for is to be more present in this relationship. To have it not be all about work." Your voice muffled as you spoke into his chest.

"Well, we both have tomorrow night off. Why don't we go to that little Italian place that you were telling Tony about?"

"How did you know that?"

"I may not say much but I listen, especially when it comes to you."

You giggled; face still pressed into his chest. "Really?"

"Really." He kissed the top of your head and squished you tighter to him. "I love you, Y/N."

"I love you too." You looked up at him with a smile. "So, I made some brownies, do you want some?"

"You sure as hell know I want some." He smirked before picking you up, a giggling scream coming out of your throat, as he headed up stairs to the bedroom.

#ncis #ncis fandom #ncis gibbs #ncis imagine #jethro gibbs #gibbs #gibbs x reader #leroy jethro gibbs

[allfearstofallto]

Hi hi! Could you write a yandere scara/childe with a darling who they only hear singing when they aren't around? Sweet, soft songs that they only hear in passing, if they hold their breaths and cross their fingers, because their wives refuse to share that part of themselves.

OMG MY FIRST REQUEST!!

Hello hi!! How are you!!!

Anyways, here's the little drabble I wrote for your amazing fic request.

Voice of an Angel

Yandere! Child x Fem! Reader

(obviously part of the growing fics in my forced marriage AU)

Baths were a favorite time of day for everyone in the household. For you, it was your time of solace. Childe, who hardly ever respected your privacy, gave you the privilege to have your baths alone. You'd soak in scorching hot water, and feel like you were drifting away. You wished you were. Anywhere would be better than being here, being with him.

And Childe, he loved your baths because you weren't truly alone. He was there, with an ear pressed against the door. The sounds of the water sloshing and you lathering your body were all nice, but it was that voice that drew him in. The way you sang when no one else was around.

A soft song. A song from your home he assumed, since he couldn't understand a single word of it. Heavenly was just one of the many ways he'd describe it and just like heaven, he wasn't able to touch it.

The you that you were now, wouldn't allow him to hear that voice, it was a treat that was banned from him. If word ever got out that he listened to you like this, he was sure you'd stop and never sing again. But that didn't mean he didn't love it. He'd love it more if it weren't through a wooden door. One singular obstacle that he could break down easily, but that didn't mean he'd get what he wanted.

He never even knew you could sing. Not until he passed by the bathroom that one fateful day and heard that dulcet sweet voice, echoing off the walls and into the hallway where he stood. Such a melodic, graceful sound had to be coming from you and it made his heart swell even more. Beautiful and talented. He truly was happy to call you his wife, even if you didn't enjoy that title just yet.

He'd allow you to keep taking your baths alone. Forever, if he had to. Even though he longed for the closeness of your body against his, for the mutual comfort and trust of bathing one another, he preferred this. To be there when you didn't know it, ear pressed to the door and hearing your sorrowful ballad. Your voice longing for a home that you wouldn't go back to.

Such beauty was wasted on him, he knew that, yet he'd still find a way to take it from you.

#genshin #genshin x reader #yandere genshin #yandere genshin x reader #yandere x reader #yandere genshin impact #yandere x you #yandere childe #yandere childe x reader

[scaralvr]

test me. scaramouche x immortal!gn!reader contains :: religious themes, angst, 3.3 archon quest spoilers

synopsis: you have been scaramouche's faithful & loyal assistant since he was graced with the title of balladeer, but your acts of dedication towards his great being go unnoticed by him each time. however, you would never give up on your God. it is him you worship, not the tsaritsa. when he replaces you with haypasia, you refuse to live without another to serve under.

notes :: songfic based off of melanie martinez's song test me! i haven't written in awhile so it may be a little rusty :')

at first, you weren't quite sure what to think of the almighty sixth you would serve for the rest of your life as a fatui recruit. bearing a cryo vision, you found no use for the doctor's delusions, but the sixth himself requested you use one, for whatever reason you aren't aware of. the sixth of the eleven had a temper that you didn't mind, but still didn't deem his behaviour tolerable. he acts like a brat, expecting everything to be handed to him on a silver platter by his pathetic inferiors.

it sickens you to the core. how could you serve someone as cruel and disgusting as him? questions like these flood your mind but a specific one stands out from the rest. why do you serve him? with such joy and enthusiasm, too. you're fully aware that the other fatui have been stirring up some trouble with scandalous rumors they spread around, fixating on how insane you must be to enjoy working under the balladeer's orders.

you're not deranged. a little eccentric, scaramouche would say. he doesn't mind your passion as his assistant, if anything, he prefers to have someone like this rather than a timid and quiet person who has to be told twice to finish things up. you don't even talk his ear off but instead, abide by every single demand of his and choose to stay silent when he says to. he calls you a, 'smart one,' considering the fact that his past assistants had to face the consequences you were avoiding.

you found the happiness you rarely had in serving him, enjoying the way he sadistically looks into nothing while going on and on about his sinister plans to overpower his creator through his birth of a God. he'd been planning this for quite a while and you were there through all of it. you stole for him, risked your life for him, took lives for him, and what did you get in return after years of your service? your knees feel weak and you suppose it's from kneeling to him all of the time.

they grow even weaker and the breath is knocked out of your throat at his words. "your assistance was tolerable and i'll be dismissing you. this is where your job ends, (y/n)." his words pound at your head and repeat like a broken loop, reminding you over and over that you're not needed. the God that you love and cherish is abandoning his divine angel. his fallen angel. you don't know why, but tears spring to your eyes as you step forward with a hand against your chest. you open your mouth to speak in a small voice, "but, my lord, i'm afraid you do need me. who will come along with you on your way through your journey of Godhood?"

scaramouche doesn't spare you a single glance and chooses to look out the window. "a researcher i've come across in sumeru has proven her worth to me. and don't get me twisted, you have proven your worth as well. she is... simply better in terms of everything and if you can't handle that truth, i don't care. do as i say, since you worship me so much," a wide smirk stretches his lips and you catch sight of it in the reflection of the glass window. the light in your eyes go out in sorrow as you percieve the fact that your God replaced you.

hey, God, i'll be the jester. entertain you, to the best of, my ability.

you wander sumeru with a blank expression, still registering the moments that previously occured. you cut ties with your family and loved ones for him and going back there wouldn't do you any good, as they've already deemed you as scum for joining the fatui all those years ago. your immortal state makes it worse, since you figure living without a purpose is much worse than death itself. while walking with your head down, your shoulder hits something. a person. you turn your head and your eyes meet those of a dashing gold. a fairly handsome man with long blonde hair tied in a braid appears astounded. not too far, a fairy with white hair floats next to him.

"sorry, i wasn't looking where i was going."

at that pathetic apology, you narrow your eyes. what type of person puts the blame on themself when they know very well it's the other's fault? curious, you place a hand on your hip and comment, "your attire... it's not from here. may i question you?" the fairy excitedly claps her hands, "oh, we were about to question you, actually!" you raise a brow, "really? whatever for?" the man kindly smiles and explains the situation to you in a tone like he's known you forever. scaramouche has known you forever. he's never shown such kindness like that to you.

you have no one to serve. no one to follow. all of your sacrifices were a waste, for the very man you put everything on the line for, threw you away like a worthless piece of trash. as you listen to the voice of the mysterious traveler, you feel a hope light up within you again. maybe, just maybe, it'll be different. this time, it will. when he finishes his brief explanation, you instantly shoot your shot. "the balladeer, you say?"

in the meanwhile, scaramouche is left to his own gadgets within the solace of his temporary room. temporary, because he knows he'll be on the move again. he always will be, now that he's turned his back on her majesty, the tsaritsa, and ran away with one of her treasured gnoses. he stares out the window, just like he did a few hours ago, and realizes the time. the sun is beginning to set and usually, you would enter the room with a tray of tea for both him and you to share as he discusses his plans.

it's not too long before scaramouche remembers he already removed you from the plan. your company and assistance have brought him this far, huh? he lets out a sigh that makes him realize he was holding in his breath for quite a bit now. he places his elbow atop the window sill and rests his chin in his palm. it's gotten a little boring since you left, hasn't it? it hasn't even been a day. scaramouche grits his teeth and groans in frustration. it seems like he doesn't enjoy the feeling of being alone, either.

but it's whatever! you're his faithful assistant, maybe if you put some thought into that robotic and tiny brain of yours, you'll be smart enough to come back because both you and scaramouche know you could never survive without him. yeah, you'll be back. the moon rises in the sky and scaramouche tightens his clutch on the wood of the sill. you'll definitely be back...

when i suffer, more fragility, when i answer. came here for a reason.

for the next few days, you spend it with aether and his friend, paimon. he easily opened up to you about his lost sister and the nations he previously went to in hopes of finding her but to no avail. you pity the poor male and choose to make his time in sumeru more enjoyable before he goes off to confront the balladeer. ah, it wasn't too hard to tell him that you're the balladeer's assistant. paimon was a little jumpy at first, but he, he was understanding... someone worthy of worshipping.

bit by bit, scaramouche can feel himself breaking. every little thing irritates him. the sound of the wind's harsh currents, the feeling of something rough against the supple skin of his hand, the crippling isolation of his room. with a determined yet firm frown, he remakes a brew of green tea for the several time this week. it doesn't taste right. no matter how much sugar he adds (which he never enjoys in his tea but he's trying), he can't recreate the taste of the way you made it.

little does he know, you're making the same tea, yet it's for another man. "(y/n), this is very well-made!" aether exclaims with a grin and you feel yourself flush red. "is it?... thank you," you mutter, turning away to pour some into a tea cup for paimon. aether chuckles, "you've done alot for me and my traveling companion, (y/n). and i've been wondering about something for sometime." you notice the way he fumbles with the tea cup in his hands from the corner of your eye. "go on," you say, putting aside the tea pot and facing him. aether confidently adds, "i'd like for you to join me on my journeys, if you'll allow it. considering the way the balladeer did all of that to you-"

ah. you uncomfortably shuffle your feet in your position and paimon notices the tense situation. "h-hey, it's alright, (y/n)! aether's a really nice guy, huh? we would never do something like that to you!" paimon says, trying to lighten the mood. you let out a soft sigh, "i... thank you. will you let me think about it?" aether pauses and eagerly nods, "of course. take as much time as you need." and that's how you ended up wandering in the vast forest of sumeru. no matter which way you shift your thoughts, it always ends up drifting back to the indigo haired harbinger.

you delicately hold a sumeru rose in your hands and tilt your head to inspect the flower. suddenly, an anger rises and before you realize it, you're tightly clutching the flower, completely destroying its petals and stem altogether. you loved him. he was your everything. you guess he didn't feel the same for you. because he is a heartless, wretched and brutal — the silent time to yourself was interfered with another person's barely audible gasp. you're quick to whip around and wield your sword, finding the sharp end of it against someone's neck. scaramouche is unfazed, content, even.

"still on guard as ever," he murmurs, using his finger to guide your sword away from his throat, but the pressure of your blade creates a small slit against his flawless skin and you draw blood. you slowly withdraw your weapon as he traces his fingertip along the wound. "what has my little ex-assistant been up to as of late? i don't think you have any business in sumeru, do you?" scaramouche casually asks while impotently wiping the blood on his attire.

you knit your brows together and as much as it hurts to do so, you speak without using your usual endearment, 'my lord,' for him. "you cease to exist to me, balladeer," the way it rolls off of your tongue is foreign to him, it even surprises you. scaramouche has no time for petty feelings, but he lets them get in the way. his pupils are blown with anger as he seethes, "who do you think you are? just because i've abandoned you like the hindrance you are, it doesn't mean you get to treat me with such... inferiority!"

"but you're wrong, balladeer. i can and i will." with those words serving a final blow to his non-existent heart, you turn on your heel to find the blonde traveler with the answer to his question bound to escape your lips that used to say nothing but praises to the sixth.

just stop complaining, all have our seasons, it's not just a joke or a lesson to live through.

scaramouche watches your form disappear in the distance, only then, can he fully consume the fact that you aren't coming back unless he asks. stubborn one, aren't you? always playing hard to get. he deludes himself with this, believing that you still want to serve your one and only God. right, he's owned you from the start. he owned you the moment you agreed to be his assistant. you can't just get up and leave like that, no, your work is far from done. scaramouche agrees that it was rather trivial to dismiss you like that and he sees his mistake. why can't you understand that he needs you back?

but the cherry on top is the way you stand before his godly form, alongside the traveler. you're not supposed to be here. scaramouche is struck with shock when he sees you enter the scene with aether. the moment is swept away just as quick when he laughs. he laughs like a crazed man, hands on his stomach as he catches his breath. "oh, this is rich, (y/n)! you're so worthless, you really had to find another to serve after i ditched you. you're nothing but a weak follower and i plan on making you take that role to the grave," his tone drops to that of a condescending one and various emotions surge through his veins.

the immense adrenaline pumping through his system can't compare to the pain he feels when buer seizes his gnosis. this can't be happening. he's done so much to make it this far, only for all of it to come crashing down before him. his mother, his friend, the child, you. you've left a scar on him that he'll never forget. he hates it. you must be smirking to yourself as he falls from the large mech. he misses when you were still by his side, always smiling even when he ordered you to commit something so atrocious as murder.

he acknowledges it now. scaramouche realizes that you were there from the beginning and despite his cruel doings, he was your God. he never needed to go this far, because he was yours. what is this feeling, he wonders. well, it's too late now. scaramouche can only accept defeat, falling, until... he hits something, but it certainly isn't the ground. his eyes can barely stay open from how visibly exhausted he is yet he manages to make out a figure looking down at him. you steadily hold him in your arms and aether rushes to you. "are you sure you want to do this, (y/n)?" he queries. you nod in response, "i'll look after him."

every which way in second, there's a breakthrough.

scaramouche, now being the wanderer, loiters within sumeru with no purpose whatsoever. with no place to go or stay, he explores and occasionally helps the traveler with some of their needs. but it still hurts. even if he's occupied himself with other things, he keeps on thinking about you. it was always you. yet the searing pain makes him wail at night, recalling the way you looked at him like he was... a stranger.

"(y/n)!" for the first time in forever, he genuinely smiled. he was happy that at least, he still had you through this whole wreck. scaramouche had the guts to apologize. coming to think of it, it was a stupid thing from the beginning. he was thankful that you stayed loyal to him and still were at that time, considering the fact that you took care of him when he was unconscious. when nahida informed him of it, he couldn't be more relieved.

you turn at the exclaimation of your name and instantly back away in confusion. "aether, who is this?" your words put scaramouche's movements to a stop and his smile drops. "wh-what do you mean? traveler, what do they mean?" he hurriedly asked, voice cracking in between some words. you furrow your brows together and aether muttered, "they don't remember you,"

he felt the heaviest weight bring itself onto his chest. it's hard to breathe. that's right, he erased himself from the memories of many people, including you. how could he be so blind back then? all he needed, wanted, was someone that could stay by his side forever and love him unconditionally. he knew very well you were immortal, so he wouldn't have to worry about your lifespan. he also knew how much you worshipped him, so he wouldn't have to worry about the potential chance of betrayal, either.

why did he let such a beautiful and caring little thing like you out of his sight?

© scaralvr.

#(⌒▽⌒)☆ : myst's library !! #gender neutral reader #genshin impact #genshin #genshin x you #genshin x y/n #scaramouche x you #scaramouche x y/n #scaramouche x reader #genshin imagines #genshin imagine #genshin fanfic #genshin fanfics #genshin fanfiction #genshin fanfictions #scaramouche #genshin fluff #scaramouche fluff #scaramouche angst #genshin angst #scaramouche imagines #scaramouche fanfics #scaramouche fanfic #scaramouche fanfiction #scaramouche fanfictions

[nikethestatue]

A Ballad of Sorrow and Love

End of Elriel Month 2024 and end of the story.

TW: death, I guess.

Part III

Lovely Fawn

Despite Rhysand’s not so subtle objections, Azriel decided to attend the reception with the Vallahan dignitaries. Elain didn’t protest either, so he concluded that it would be appropriate for him to make an appearance. Not that he necessarily wanted to, however, he was the Prince of Hewn City, and his title obligated him to do things which he didn’t always enjoy–like attending boring parties. At least in Hewn City, he could fuck Elain in front of the Court, if he so desired. She wouldn’t say no, and it certainly made receptions a lot more interesting and enjoyable. No such pleasure in Night Court. 

Today, Elain dressed in a black dress that was little more than gossamer, which wrapped around her voluptuous body like second skin. It glittered with sequins and strategically placed black flowers, which covered her breasts and her bottom. A smattering of extra sparkles was all that concealed her front. A long train slithered on the floor with every step that she took. Elain liked pearls–a stone of mourning and innocence, of fertility and purity, of perfection and romance–and wrapped many strands around her neck and her wrists. 

“A crown for my Princess,” Azriel announced, opening up a heavy wooden box.

Elain smiled and peered inside. It was the Black Peregrine Crown tonight then. One of her favourites. A heavy, imposing crown made of black and white diamonds, studded with black and white pearls, tourmalines and opals. Azriel lifted the crown from its velvet nest and then gently placed it on Elain’s golden head. 

“Perfect,” he whispered when she straightened and he could observe her in all her glory. “You are so fucking beautiful, Elain. So beautiful.”

They stepped out on the terrace and Azriel opened his arms, allowing Elain to slip into his embrace. He lifted her easily off the ground and as she wrapped her arms around his neck, he spread his wings and shot up into the air. She threw a shield over them, so that the wind didn’t mess up her hair and once they crossed the enchanted barrier that surrounded the palace, the weather became less than pleasant, with heavy rain pelting the ground and bouncing off the air shield. “Thanks, smart girl!” Azriel chuckled, grateful for the shield and then kissed her.

Rhysand, the High Lord of Night Court sat in his chair, which wasn’t quite a throne, but also wasn’t just a simple chair. It was long, made for two, for him and for Feyre, his High Lady, to sit beside him. He didn’t feel the need to greet his guests on a throne–this wasn’t going to be a show of power and his High Lord’s might. The relationship between his Court and Vallahan was friendly enough. Although now, after what Azriel had uncovered about Eris and Lucien, Rhysand didn’t know who to trust. And whether he could ever let his guard down the way he did with the Vanserra brothers. This thing pressed on him and he wasn’t at his best. Feyre flitted around the reception room, greeting and welcoming the guests, and even Nesta helped out, doing a passable impression of being interested. 

“Are you alright?” Feyre whispered, when she finally extricated herself for a moment and approached him. She looked lovely, dressed in a pale pearl gown with a halter top, which was tied in the back into a large bow and then flowed into a fluttering train of silk.

“All good, Feyre darling,” he smiled at her and kissed her hand. 

Then, his eyes narrowed and he pursed his lips. Seeing the change in his expression, Feyre turned her head and before she could say anything, Rhys hissed, “what is he doing here? I requested that he not come!”

Her arms crossed on her chest, Nesta Archeron, stately and cool, stepped behind him and said, “He has just as much right to be here as you do. You are a High Lord of your Court and he is a Prince of his.”

“This is my Court,” Rhys cut her off, “and my request.”

Nesta shrugged in her usual nonchalant way, not giving him any leeway.

“She is right, you know,” Feyre agreed, eyeing her mate with displeasure.

“Don’t gang up on me,” he ordered. “Because you both know that I am right. He makes things uncomfortable. He is barely lucid as it is…”

“Lucid enough to have uncovered a massive conspiracy that spans the continent,” Nesta noted meaningfully.

Rhys shook his head and insisted, “these types of events are inadvisable for him.”

“Elain is with him,” Nesta said calmly. “She will keep him in line.”

“Az!” she then called, waving her arm at him. “How are you? It’s nice to see you. We weren’t sure you’d come tonight.”

She walked to him and then embraced him, before saying, “good evening Ellie-girl!”

Feyre joined them soon after and greeted Azriel with a wide smile.

“Are you treating my sister well?” she joked.

Azriel pulled Elain to his side and draped his arm over her shoulders, before pressing a kiss to her temple.

“Always,” he said. Elain nodded.

“What are you wearing today?” Feyre whispered and then said, “The Black Peregrine!”

Azriel’s eyes wandered to his High Lord and he saw that Rhys was scowling in his direction–not that it was a very unusual reaction. The brothers didn’t see eye to eye most of the time. 

Rhys would’ve wanted to pull the Court of Nightmares back under his control, but the divine Power wouldn’t allow him too, refusing to budge away from Azriel.

“Uncle Az!” He heard a lovely familiar voice and turned around, smiling. 

His beautiful niece Elena hurried toward him, a pretty pink gown with black flowers accentuating her incredible loveliness. It always amused him how Cassian’s and Nesta’s daughter looked so much like Elain. Same golden brown curls, same big dark round eyes, same shy smile. 

“My pretty girl, I am so happy to see you here tonight!” he exclaimed, taking her into his arms and embracing her tightly. 

“Uncle Rhys wanted me to be here,” she explained, “though he told me that you wouldn’t be coming,” she frowned at that.

Azriel shrugged, “He never wants me to come,”

“Ahhh,” she sighed sadly. “I so wish you’d patch things up with him! He is not being very fair to you.”

“It’s been like that for years,” Azriel said, “I suppose I am used to it by now,”

She stomped her little foot and said, “Well, it isn’t fair! And you shouldn’t accept it.”

He smiled at her, again, reminded of Elain –even that little pout was all Elain. 

He flicked the top of her arched ear and said, “You look like your aunt!”

“Pfff, everyone says that!” then she glanced at the clock and said, “oh, I have to run, Uncle,”

“Where are you going?”

She rolled her eyes, “Nyx and myself and Kira and Zoya (Nesta and Cassain’s other daughters) are expected to go and entertain the ambassadors’ children. At least they are our age!”

Azriel smiled and kissed her forehead. “You better join us for dinner then.”

“We will!” she blew him a kiss and hurried away.

Before the ambassadors entered the reception hall, Rhys released a bit of his power, so it thrummed in the air, filling the space and making all who were present pay attention. Feyre took her seat at his side. Then it was Azriel, who held the highest rank behind the High Lord and Lady. He sat in a chair, with Elain beside him, and wrapped his arm around her. He was glad of it too, because he was too fucking old to be standing around, greeting ambassadors and emissaries. That was a job for the kids like Elena and Nyx. They had the energy. And Cassian too, apparently, because he stood behind Nesta’s seat, legs apart, hand on his sword. Hopefully, there wasn’t going to be a need for all that tonight.

The six ambassadors and their entourage arrived soon after and Rhysand rose from his chair in a gesture of good will, greeting them.

“Welcome,” he said, his voice loud and melodious, created to put visitors at ease. 

The males and two females bowed, and Rhys began the introductions.

“My mate, the High Lady of Night Court, Feyre Archeron.”

Feyre smiled and inclined her head at the guests.

Rhys continued, bypassing Azriel, though he was supposed to have been next,

“General Nesta Archeron, Cauldron Made, leader of the Valkyrie armies.”

Nesta greeted them politely, her back straight, her face placid.

“Cassian, Commander General of the Night Court.”

Then he paused, and everyone’s gazes inevitably fell on Azriel.

“His Highness, Prince Azriel of Hewn City,” Rhys finally said with a sigh. “Commanding General of the Darkbringers, Lord of the Court of Nightmares.”

Azriel glared at Rhysand and while the others bowed and curtsied, he barked loudly,

“AND?”

At that, Feyre got up and walked to him, saying calmly,

“And Lady Elain Archeron of the Court of Nightmares, Princess of Hewn City, Cauldron Made.”

Everything stopped, the very air silent and tense.

The ambassadors stared at the High Lady, then at Azriel. And then at Nesta, who stood up and walked over as well, saying loudly ‘my sister’.

-

Only there was no one next to Prince Azriel.

He sat alone in his chair.

Because, as everyone knew, Princess Elain had died in childbirth 184 years ago.

-

His mind had fractured that day. 

They didn’t know that Elain was carrying twins until it was too late. The girl, who was small, hid behind the boy for too long in their mother’s womb. Their heartbeats beat in unison, and even the most experienced healers didn’t notice a second baby. A wingless baby. A baby who survived, while her mother and brother died. A baby who was picked up by her uncle Cassian, while his wife and mate Nesta was mute and dumb from grief and his brother Azriel flew out of the birthing room, only to return forever changed. Cassian took the baby with him and named her Elena.

Whether Azriel knew that Elain was dead and had been dead for almost two centuries, Feyre did not know. He never indicated that he was aware. He never called Elain a ‘ghost’ or made it known that he knew that she was dead, but it was easier to pretend like she was alive.

No.

The three of them–Feyre, Rhys and Cassian–were quite sure that Azriel had lost his mind that day and consequently, Elain’s death simply never registered with him. When he’d returned from his flight that day, he seemed the same as he always was. No shadows whispering in his ears, no sadness in his eyes. He did seem to be conscious of the fact that the children weren’t born, but he and ‘Ellie’ sat down with Temal, his adopted son, and explained it to him. Temal wasn’t exactly a child by then, but a grown man and he understood that something had happened to his father when Elain had died. Ever since then, Temal has played along. Almost two hundred years later, it became…normal to him. That his father and the illusion of his mother lived together and ruled together. It somehow became ‘normal’ to all of them, except for Rhys. But Feyre and Cassian, and especially Nesta protected Azriel from Rhys.

Nesta wasn’t entirely lucid either. Feyre was sure that Nesta knew that Elain was dead, but she’d come to believe that Elain was always next to them–just like Azriel claimed.

Whether it was a hallucination or an illusion that Azriel’s traumatised mind had conjured, Feyre couldn’t know. But Azriel had lived with this version of Elain ever since that day, and never looked unhappy. He was never confused. He was never doubtful. The only time he displayed any agitation is when Rhys ‘forgot’ about Elain and acted like she wasn’t at Azriel’s side. In his mind, Azriel convinced himself that it was because Rhys didn’t want Elain to marry him, and therefore ignored her because of that. Otherwise, Azriel went about his life married to Elain. 

In fact, Feyre believed that perhaps, Azriel and his Elain, were the happiest couple among all of them. 

Nesta and Azriel talked to ‘Elain’, laughed with her, walked with her, and in Azriel’s case, lived with her. He lived with her as a man would with his wife–sleeping and eating with her, bathing and cooking, dancing and drinking, making love with her and going on missions together. He did everything with Elain. He was Elain’s husband for eternity, just like he promised her at their wedding. And she was with him, walking hand in hand, living into the promise that she’d made to him.

From what Feyre could gather, the only difference between how Nesta was with their sister, and how it was different from Azriel, was that Nesta couldn’t see Elain. But she always insisted that Elain spoke to her, and as unnerving as it was to hear, Feyre got used to Nesta saying ‘Elain told me…” or “Elain and I were talking and she said…” or “El and I were laughing the other day…” Nesta confided to Elain, cried to her, argued with her, got angry with her. She ‘invited’ Elain to her training, and even discussed military plans with her. Apparently Elain ‘played’ with Nesta’s girls, sang to them, and knew that Nesta was raising Elena. 

At least Nesta seemed to have been aware that Elena was not her daughter, but Elain’s. Though they’d all agreed that it would be best for Azriel not to know about Elena and to preserve his fragile mind, they always treated Elena as Nesta and Cassian’s daughter and Azriel’s niece. It was, therefore, especially amusing, but also heartbreaking that Azriel and the girl were so close and that he loved her far more than any other of his nieces and nephews. 

When Elain had passed on, they did not know what to do with the body. The little boy was lovely as well, handsome and strong–his father’s son. They could not very well bury her without Azriel’s consent. They certainly couldn’t cremate her either. The mere mention of Elain’s death had Nesta’s eyes glowing with silver flames, and when she unequivocally announced that Elain was not dead, they dared not argue with her.

So Elain and her son were laid in a glass coffin, both perfect and unblemished even in death, sealed within it, Elain’s immense power still seeping out of her and then brought to rest under the Prison. Beneath the roots of the mountain. Under Dusk Court.

“Princess Elain is happy to meet you,” Azriel said simply to the ambassadors.

Sometimes, Elain didn’t want to talk, and he didn’t pressure her.

Sometimes, she talked a lot and he loved listening to her. But there were days when she preferred to be quiet and it didn’t bother him at all. The two of them always understood each other perfectly well, even in silence. Before they became lovers, before they were married, Elain could always read him and his moods, she always knew what he was thinking and was aware of his reasons for his actions. Words were always somewhat superfluous to them. 

Their Court knew that the Princess sometimes communicated through him, and they’d come to accept that. But Elain was usually especially quiet around Rhys. It was as if she knew that he didn’t approve of her and did not like her.

The Court. The Court of Nightmares had a mad ruler, who ruled them alongside his dead wife. A ruler who was fully convinced that she sat on the throne with him, that she attended balls with him, that she weighed on topics and disagreements that arose during open sessions, that she opined on judicial decisions. But because he was a good ruler despite his madness, the Court…accepted it. So what if the Princess wasn’t there in the flesh. Perhaps, she truly spoke through him and who were they to question whether their Prince actually saw her and communicated with her if she were alive. 

“No sweetness, he is not angry that you came,” Azriel assured her, peering angrily at Rhysand. “Rhys is just stressed. Soon we’ll go to dinner and then I will dance with you.”

Elain smiled at him. And then she found her voice and asked, “you promise?”

“I promise. You are my princess. And I am your prince. And soon, we’ll go back to our dark kingdom and we’ll be home, amongst our people.”

“You promise?” she repeated.

“I do. I promise.”

“Forever.”

“Forever.”

-

Epilogue

Seventeen years later

It took years to find him, but at last, he did.

Azriel looked down at the male cowering in the pews of the temple.

It was an oddly cathartic moment, he couldn’t deny it. 

Azriel and Lucien, forever locked in a silent battle, all because the Cauldron gave Elain to the wrong man. A lifetime of animosity, and the desire to correct a divine mistake. 

“Azriel,” Lucien straightened and looked at his nemesis with his one eye. 

“Lucien,” Azriel offered a curt nod.

“How did you find me?”

Azriel smirked.

“Well, if not me, then who?”

“I guess that’s true.”

Sighing heavily, Lucien looked down at the stone floor and wondered,

“So, now what? You finally get to kill me. And you’ll bring the traitor’s head to Rhysand as a trophy?”

Azriel seemed to consider it, cocking his head to the side. 

Could he? Should he?

“You deserve it,” he told Lucien simply.

“Perhaps. But I didn’t do it just for myself. I did it for the Fae kind as well.”

“Sure. Keep telling yourself that if it makes you feel better.”

Lucien unsheathed his sword and asked coldly, “so, what happens now? How do you want to do this?”

Azriel turned his head and seemed to listen to something.

Lucien was well aware of the male’s madness–knew that Azriel thought that Elain was standing beside him that very moment, speaking to him.

“Elain says ‘hello’,” Azriel said.

It cost him nothing, and Lucien answered, “Hello Elain.”

Azriel stiffened and glanced at the other male with mild surprise. Like he wasn’t expecting Lucien to greet Elain.

After a long pause, Azriel scrubbed his chin and muttered, “she says not to kill you”.

Lucien almost dropped his sword, glaring at the Prince, mistrust in his eye.

“Stop fucking around, Shadowsinger. If you are here to kill me, then just do it.”

Azriel smiled at his old title. Shadowsinger. Yes, that power remained with him, but also disappeared some time ago. It was odd to hear the title spoken out loud.

“She asks for you to kill me,” he stated simply. “But only on this specific spot.”

“What are you on about?” Lucien groaned. “I am not killing you! If we fight, then we fight like real Fae!”

“I don’t need to fight like real Fae,” Azriel snapped. “I’ve fought for something for almost 800 years and what did it give me? Nothing. What I want is a life that was taken from me. What I want, is to live a life with my fucking wife. What I want is to escape this world, the judgement in everyone’s eyes, and to no longer be called a ‘madman’. I want to live a life with Elain Archeron. I want to be with her. I want…” he stopped, his voice trailing off. Then he raised his eyes and looked at Lucien, almost pleading with him, “I want release, Lucien. That’s what I want. I want to be with Elain. In this world. In another. I don’t care. I just want that…I just want to feel…Feel what I felt with her and have it be real.”

Lucien listened, unsure if Azriel was being truthful, but also saw the desperation in the male’s eyes. Was Azriel, in fact, not as mad as he let everyone believe?

Or was this just a moment of rare mental clarity?

“So I am to kill you?” he then confirmed.

“That’s what Elain says,” Azriel nodded. 

“And then what?”

“And then you go on your merry way, scheming or doing whatever it is that you do.”

“And Rhysand?”

“I am a burden, not a cause celebre to him,” Azriel shrugged indifferently. “And if it took me that long to find you, I think you are quite safe. He won’t find you.”

“What will happen when I kill you?”

“I don’t know,” Azriel confessed. “But Elain insists on it.”

“You do know that this is…” Lucien’s voice was quiet. “I am not used to murdering unarmed men…and you are my mate’s husband…”

“It’s all right,” Azriel shrugged. “I forgive you. Just do it already. Stop talking. I am at peace. My daughter will take over Hewn City. She is a marvellous, brilliant, smart woman–I know the Power will choose her.”

“You have a daughter?” Lucien exclaimed, absolutely puzzled by this new revelation.

“Yeah. I suspected that she was–for a long time–and I finally got proof a few years ago. And I am so proud of her. I’ve got two amazing children–Temal and my Elena. And my grandchildren. Believe me, I am at peace. I am content. And whatever is going to happen, is going to happen.”

He stepped aside and walked to a specific spot, stopping abruptly. 

“Elain says it has to be done here.”

“Why?”

“The Cauldron stood here for a while, in this specific spot. The Cauldron loves her and always helps her with odds and ends.”

“Killing you is helping her?” 

“I don’t know. We are about to find out. Also, do it cleanly, Vanserra. One through the heart. Got it?”

“I suppose.”

Azriel pulled Truth-Teller out of its sheath and clutched it in his hand. “Don’t want to lose it.”

Lucien approached him cautiously, still unsure of what was happening, but Azriel seemed at ease and determined.

“I guess I am coming home, treasure,” Azriel murmured.

-

Light flooded the space around him. Azriel stood in front of a door, in a place that was not familiar to him. He was still clutching his dagger in his hand. Gingerly, he pushed the door and it opened and he stepped inside. 

“Hi, love, are you home?” Elain called out from inside the house.

“I am,” Azriel murmured.

Suddenly, Elain, lovely as a morning sunrise, ducked her head from behind a wall and smiled at him.

“You are late,” she said.

“It took me a long time to find the way here.”

He looked around.

Nothing seemed familiar, and yet it was. It was a house filled with things that were unknown to him, and of a different origin. 

“Is this the Land of Milk and Honey?” he wondered.

“No. It’s Lunathion.”

This was…unexpected.

She came to him, looking just like he remembered her, only glowing with life and health. Her outfit was unusual and unfamiliar to him–a plain sleeveless shirt that was quite tight and a pair of short pants, which looked more like underwear than something one would wear outside. Her long braid hung carelessly over her shoulder. On her finger, she wore the ring that he’d given her when they married. The same simple silver band. 

“I’ve been waiting,” Elain said, putting his hand to her lips.

“What was the price?” he wondered, looking down at her and still unsure if this was another illusion, if this was death, or if this was real.

She worried her lower lip between her teeth and then admitted,

“There is no going back. This was the Cauldron's final gift. Its parting gift. We died, only to live again, but here. We’ll never see any of them again. Not our children, not our family. We can never jump through a Rift to go back. We died.”

He nodded.

A price he was willing to pay.

“Ready for a new chapter?” she said.

“With you?” he asked hopefully.

She reached for him and took his scarred hand in hers.

“With me. Forever.”

“Forever.”

#elriel #pro elriel #elain archeron #azriel and elain #elain x azriel #elain #elriel fanfic #my fanfiction #my writing #a ballad of sorrow and love #Azriel x Elain #elain and azriel #elriel month #Elrielmonth

[obriengf]

One, and Only || Stiles Stilinski x Reader

Summary: Stiles makes it his mission to show you that you’re loved. Words: 2.2k Warnings: angst? reader insecurities, ends with hella cuteness Notes: honestly the first thing that came to mind was “FOUR FOR YOU, GLEN COCO”

𝒽𝒶𝓅𝓅𝓎  𝓋𝒶𝓁𝑒𝓃𝓉𝒾𝓃𝑒𝓈 ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

You didn’t think anyone would notice; but he did.

It wasn’t hard when the smile that he was so infatuated with had faltered, and the eyes that had effortlessly become his favourite colour had lost their vibrancy with haste. He saw the way you would sink back as one of Beacon High’s students barged into classrooms with faltering feathered wings that left behind fuzzy trails, and a trolley of assorted gifts ready to capture the hearts of your luckiest fellow peers. It was simply as if you would burn if gotten too close to the red heart decorations that served as a constant reminder that Valentines Day was within arms reach.

You were a different person during this time of year, and Stiles Stilinski couldn’t understand why your light dimmed so easily from some silly holiday that was more of a passing phase. 

With his shoulder leaning so nonchalantly against the cool metal of his locker, Stiles Stilinski crossed his arms, whisky gaze stuck on your figure down the hall. You were walking toward your own locker as he waited for his plan to take heed - witnessing your bypassing and cringing of some Sophomore’s poorly written ballad to his boyfriend. He didn’t know just how strongly it all weighed on your mind, but he could sense it, and it made his chest ache with pitiful sorrow.

Valentines wasn’t something that you wanted to dislike so much, but it was difficult when you couldn’t help but consider the worst. You were never given the chance to celebrate such occasion for bringing people together, never shown just how gratifying sharing your heart could be - the thoughts were strong and they were screaming at the top of their lungs that maybe you just weren’t desirable enough. Maybe you weren’t as attractive as the people that surround you, or as interesting to make company with. Maybe your passions were overbearing and your voice had rung too loud. Maybe you were bound with too much energy and the world just wanted to settle down. Maybe, you were destined to be alone, and that was okay. Until you decided that maybe you didn’t want it to be okay.

You bit your lip as you turned you back to the commotion; the pain was a reminder to not fall victim to such fantasy. You could dream and you could wish, but reality was harsh and it never ceased to show you that maybe you just weren’t cut out for being someone’s love. At least not now. Even though you craved the attention and utterly yearned for reminders that you were somebody else’s idea of complete endearment.

So, you took a deep breath and chose to wear a mask of indifference. Pretending that your chest didn’t pang with hurt and that you weren’t finding it hard to breathe. You continued to filter through the halls and try not to watch those who were lucky enough to experience the beautiful uneasiness of butterflies that you so secretly craved. It will be over soon, you reminded yourself with utter consistence.

That was, until your locker was in view, and something looked quite evidently different.

The shade of red that you saw was dreamlike - so delicate and velvety, as if one touch and it’s gentle tone would fall a part in your hold. It was beautiful as it sat against the harshness of the grey metal door - like a poetic metaphor that somebody has surely penned by now - with a thick green stem placed through the slotted vent. A single rose was not what you expected, but it made you smile, wide, and even more so as you picked up the small folded place card that was taped up beside it. Your name was scribbled in messy cursive, and you couldn’t hold back the exhaled giggle that had sat with anticipation.

Stiles had straightened his posture now as he watched you with bated breath. The moment you shone a smile, his heart soared and began to thump against the caging of his chest with the utmost adoration - he had given you happiness, and it was the best feeling in the world. 

“What does it say?” A voice sounded beside him, prompting the boy to break his focus. He turned to face Scott and a knowing smirk. Stiles hummed, proving that he didn’t hear a word of what his friend had asked, too lost in his thoughts, and it made the other boy chuckle, “The note? What did you write?”

Stiles’ tone was quiet as he veered his eyeline back to your blushing cheeks and that damn sparkle in your eyes that he didn’t realise he missed, “That they have a beautiful smile.” 

“Such the romantic.” Scott teased, swiftly managing to dodge the propelling whack that Stiles aimed toward his chest. Not that Stiles really minded the playful jab from his best friend; he would do anything to see the light that made you shine, the glow that he admired so much. It’s what usually comes with a silly high school crush, afterall. 

You felt honoured to receive something so sweet, even though your mind did briefly wonder to the notion that your peers sought out an amusing outlet by playing a prank on you. It was hard to understand why someone would leave such a pretty flower for such a self-perceived plain you, with a smile that you hardly found of any beauty. 

Your worries, however, were torn down as you entered your economics class and were met by a stunning crown of petals as another singular red rose was placed upon your desk. The cursive handwriting was the same and the messiness made you chuckle as you opened the new card, eyes widening and lips parting softly at the sentiment inside -

I think you’re beautiful, as well. 

You were too engrossed to notice how you were being observed, the sun catching two baby brown eyes as they flittered over your form and took such pride from the happiness you found. A lazy smile curled at his lips, chin perched comfortably in his propped up hand as you began to blush, bashful at the possibility that someone noticed you let alone thought so kindly of you.

Coach Finstock’s voice broke you from your running mind, returning you to a reality crowded within a fourth period classroom and something about opening your textbook to chapter eleven. You took contentment as you laid the rose down gently along the edge of your desk, your fingertip so elegantly running over the soft petals throughout the entire hour.

By the time the last bell of the day had rung, you were entering the school parking lot with five roses cradled within your arm, held close to your chest as you strived to protect them. Your day had continued to be full of surprises as you were approached during study break in the Library, a delivery by the resident Valentines gift-giver and his still shedding wings, as another rose was presented to you. Soon to be followed by two more that fell out of your locker as you were changing over your books - and for a second, you wondered how the perpetrator got in there in the first place - but it dissipated quickly as you grew warm from your new gifts. 

Your footsteps halted over the tarmac, jaw dropping slightly before you managed a whisper under your breath, “This can’t be real.” Not that you should be so astonished by now, it really isn’t nothing new, but the more you consider what today has brought then the more you start to fall back into the fantasy of someone someday loving you. Your windscreen wiper held down another rose, and another note. You mentally planned to pin these short yet heartwarming forms of literature on the wall of your bedroom later this evening, so that you can look over them everyday, and remind yourself that there is hope. Your hand was slightly trembling, a concoction of anxiety and excitement begging to take control, as you reached for the card and flicked it open.

Just seeing the way these roses have made you happy, has made my day.. week.. year... decade? You deserve every single one and more. 

It was a hasty move as you brought your thumb up to wipe the tear that fell through your lashes, an expression of gratitude and a growing heart. You had never faced such kindness, such willingness to see you happy, such displays of affection that really tugged at the thumping muscle in your chest. You didn’t have a clue on who would be leaving these for you to find - and a part of you was okay if you never found out. Just knowing that they are out there, that they can truly see you, was more than enough. .

Fingers tapped with incoordination against the battered steering wheel. They would often flex toward the door handle, but slip back at the last minute, nervousness brewing with every second passing. Your front door was in view, and your car was in the driveway, so you hadn’t left for school yet. That’s good, that means he still has time. He can finish off his plan. He just need to get out of the damn Jeep first.

Stiles eventually sighed loudly before rubbing his hands together, an attempt to pump himself full of encouragement. It was now or never as he forced himself to slip from the vehicle, one occupied hand immediately held behind his back. Every step was forcing his heart to beat louder, the sound of blood rushing was now echoing in his ears. He started to contemplate whether you would be disappointed to see him - the easily excited ADD kid that talks too loud wherever he goes. On the other hand, he isn’t as bad as he used to be, Stiles thought as his lips pursed and head tilted to the side, brows raising. But your disapproval was still a possibility and it provoked his stomach to churn. 

He bit his lip, head shaking, as soon as he reached your door. Your voice was muffled beyond the white wood as it was projected from somewhere further inside. Stiles’ leg bounced. After a few hushed words of motivation, his knuckles sounded a knock, instinctively taking a step back as the door was approached from the other side. 

You both were speechless. 

Stiles thought that you were even prettier up close. Especially with your wide eyes and soft lips that were lifting into a confused smile. It baffled him why you hadn’t been snatched up by someone already. 

And you were ever surprised to see the Stiles Stilinski standing at your door, with such an adorable dumbfounded expression. You were so captivated by his brown bambi eyes that you didn’t even hear yourself say his name, until he broke from whatever captivation he held, his throat instantly clearing.

“Hmph, yeah, right... hey Y/N...” He started, voice chuckling with shy nervous energy as he began to smile. He didn’t continue until you smiled back, your grin accompanied by a warm peachy hue that pinched at your cheeks instantly. “I-I... I wanted to give you these, it’s the rest of the bouquet... so you have a dozen. The perfect bouquet of roses.” The hand behind his back had fallen into view, another six deep red stems of roses making you gasp lightly. 

You took them from his hold, your fingers brushing momentarily and you swore that the skin contact alone sent hundreds of goosebumps up your arm. 

Stiles cleared his throat, his voice quiet and raspy, “They say that a dozen roses mean something... that it’s like a way of asking someone to be yours.” Your head fell into a nod, your gaze absolutely fixated on the gorgeous nervous boy in front of you.

You smiled wider, “And what is it your way of saying?” 

“That I like you. A lot, actually.” He was quick to answer as his arm was thrown behind his head, scratching at his neck. He chuckled again and the sound made your heart soar. “And Happy Valentines Day. You deserve one, and you deserve plenty more. I just... I hope that this is the first of many great ones for you.”

You willed yourself to hold back tears - the last thing you want is to cry in front of the weird cute boy that has made you feel absolutely amazing. 

With a tentative step forward, you leaned up on the tips of your toes, a chaste yet meaningful kiss pressed over Stiles’ speckled cheek. You hummed, “Thank you, Stiles. You have no idea what all of this means to me. How can I make it up to you?”

 “Let me drive you to school, and we can start from there?” You could hear the hopefulness in his tone and how his gaze grew in anticipation. You nodded, teeth sunken into your bottom lip, and that sparkle finally returning to your eyes.

You never would have guessed that your first Valentines Day would be the start of what would be the best years of your life.

#dylan o'brien #dylan o'brien x reader #stiles stilinski #stiles stilinski x reader #stiles stilinski fic #stiles stilinski x you #stiles stilinski imagine #teen wolf x reader #valentines2023 #teen wolf fic #teen wolf imagine

[kdreamsound]

#taeyoon #30 #love bridge #1st mini album #2015 #kindie #ballad #folk #s: calm #m: sorrow #songs #music #audio

[kasdeyalilith]

Midnight Rain (Part II)

Warning/s: Angst and Fluff

Character/s: Scaramouche x Reader

Synopsis: Scaramouche finds himself traveling with the traveler following his defeat in the Sumeru war. He hopes to meet you along during the journey and earn your trust again.

Note: I didn't follow some canon scenes from the battle between the Balladeer and Traveler from the first part so some things are changed. As requested I sprinkled some fluff in here but there's some angst ofc. I managed to squeeze every sweetness in my bones just to come up with the ending. Hope yall enjoy and forgive me with the angsts.

"Ah you've seen my affection for her. If you were in my position, I think you'd feel the same way"

He frowns as he recalls what he said to you, shaking his head at the emerging memory. What a fool he is to treat you that way, knowing you're the only one who actually cares about him. He becomes so blinded by your constant love for him that he thinks dismissing your feelings will not cause you to leave, because you'll still fall for him and stay, only this time you're already falling before he can even catch you.

Scaramouche, who now calls himself "the Wanderer," journeys Teyvat with the traveler in the hopes of meeting you along the way. He offers to tag along on their adventures after the war in Sumeru, promising to make amends for his past actions even if they are forgotten by most. The traveler was hesitant at first, but Nahida convinces him to do it. He warns him that if he does something bad, he won't hesitate to feed him to Paimon.

The Wanderer spends his days doing meaningless things, like working on different commissions with the Traveler. Even though it's tiring and boring, he's never felt so at peace, which is something he can only feel with you.

He pushed those thoughts away as he cast a glimpse at the rising statue of Barbatos, which was gleaming beneath the sun's blaze. The last thing he needs to find you is for that piercing sting inside him where his heart is supposed to be.

The nation of the Anemo Archon proved to be a safe haven for explorers like him as all are welcome within its walled borders. A foreign feeling churns inside him; a sincere reception from strangers who do not immediately condemn him is an unusual occurrence for the Wanderer. After years of only you accepting and treating him as a normal being, it's a strange emotion to feel when a bard hands him an apple as a welcome gesture.

He imagines every situation and every word he'll say once he finds you, but all preparations are tossed out the window the moment he sees you. You who’s as perfect and beautiful as he remembered, even the grease that stains your skin from repairing a machine can’t lessen your beauty as you laughed at him, him who’s hair white as chalk and posture still as a doll. The Wanderer refuses himself the sudden surge of jealousy, he doesn’t have the right now as he stares at you longingly.

He felt his entire body freeze the minute your eyes locked on him, waiting with bated breath for the storm to strike. Your gaze, however, quickly shifts to the side as if you were unaware that he was standing there.

Did you absolutely despise him? He can't blame you if you do, but it doesn't make the pain that crawls and scratches him back any less painful. He can only blame himself for causing you so much hurt that you decide to ignore him entirely.

He isolates himself from the traveler, preferring to rest under Windrise's great oak tree. His hand wipes any daring tear that dares to fall, and even though he is no longer the frail puppet he once was, he still easily tears up. He is unsure if your rejection or avoidance of him causes him more pain, as both equally rip him apart. It hurts much more that you no longer care about him and he has no way to bring you back into his life, even if he drowns himself in sorrow and endures a thousand stab wounds.

He chases after those memories of you both being content and happy, and for a moment, he allows himself to get lost in them.

He eventually drifts off to sleep under the cooling shade of Vennessa's Tree, lulled by the Archon's breeze and the melody sung by the lyre coming above from one of the branches.

The Wanderer was painfully jolted out of his dreams of you when he felt something tap his shoulder; he frowned as he faced the intruder but stopped when he saw you smiling at him. He pinches and rubs his eyes awake to check if he's dreaming again.

You kneeled in front of him and offered him a bottle of water, which he accepted dumbfoundedly. His violet eyes are watching you intently as if Aranaras were dancing on the top of your head. You smiled awkwardly at him, overwhelmed by his focused attention, and cleared your throat, ready to ask him the question you had thought for hours.

He stills his beating heart, afraid that it’ll drown out your words as he awaits anxiously for you to speak.

“You must be parched, here’s some water I got from Sara awhile ago. Don’t worry it’s freshly taken from a clean spring. Anyway, I uhm saw you earlier while I was at the crafting table and I-”

"Wait before you say anything else" He rushes in front of you, grasping your hand while looking down at the ground and saying, "I'm sorry for everything I've done. Although I had my reasons for causing you pain, it does not make it right. I will do anything to regain your forgiveness. I will persevere even if it takes years or more. I love you. I know I'm a disappointment to you most of the time but you still constantly care for me, even when I act and make hasty decisions. Amidst my past and painful memories and mistakes, you are the first thing that has ever felt right. I'll always love you even if you turn me away"

Even if it is wrong to hope for your forgiveness instantly, he still clings to it while he looks at you. His face painted in sincerity, as he waits for your response.

“I uh- I’m so sorry to say this but I only saw you today? I asked for your whereabouts and followed you because well you seemed familiar to me and when I saw you staring earlier, I’m reminded of the locket I used to have and how you resemble the person in the picture but I can’t remember why I have it and who you are in my life”

“Wha-what do you mean?”

His entire world was put in chaos as he repeats your word over and over. Forgotten? All those memories gone? He want to latch at you and scream and cry but he can only stare, hand at his chest as it beats too hard and painful for him to even breathe.

“I’m really sorry uh traveler? But guessing from your actions and words we must’ve been linked at some point in the past. I don’t know how I’ve forgotten someone important to me but I’m willing to make new ones with you. How does that sound-?”

He fell silent, even if all the memories you both once shared are gone, taken away when the Greater Lord was forgotten and passed away, along with the memories of the Balladeer, he'll take anything as long as he can stay by your side.

“Kuni, call me Kuni”

"Okay Kuni, how about we start over?" You dusted down your skirt as you stood up and offered your hand to him, “I’m Y/n, researcher of the Knights of Favonious at your service”

You cheerfully saluted him, laughing at your own actions.

“I’m Kuni the Wanderer”

Finally, in the midst of the darkness that has surrounded him all of his life, you shone like the brightest star in his sky, as your light pours through the appearing cracks, chasing after the storm as it breaks through the barrier and free him from his cage.

“The Wanderer huh? So you like to just wander off?”

“Shut up”

“Should’ve called you The Grumpiest”

“Archons…. You’re lucky I love you”

#scaramouche angst #genshin scaramouche #scaramouche x you #scaramouche x reader #scaramouche+x+reader #kunikuzushi #genshin impact #genshin #scaramouche fluff

[llovelymoonn]

my favourite mary oliver quotes

marengo (via @louisegluck​) \\ the uses of sorrow \\ north country \\ upstream: selected essays (via @feral-ballad​) \\ felicity: “moments” (via @louisegluck​) \\ franz marc’s blue horses (via @prehistoricmancunt​) \\ dogfish (via @archiveofyearning​ --> i love this whole post with all my heart <33) \\ don’t hesitate \\ felicity: “i did think, let’s go about this slowly” \\ devotions: “from west wind” (via @feral-ballad​)

buy me a chai latte

#mary oliver my beloved #mary oliver #mine #wordweaving #word weaving #wordweave #word weave #wordweaves #word #words #poetry #words words words #poet #poem #poems #marengo #north country #upstream #moments #felicity #the uses of sorrow #franz marc's blue horses #don't hesitate #from west wind #devotions

[coriolanussnowslover]

The Ballad of Snakes, Songbirds, and Sorrow.  Part One.

A Coriolanus Snow x Fem!Reader FanFiction. 

He saw everything in her, so why is he so intrigued by her. 

Word Count 3,381. 

* Reader is from a prestigious family in the capital. They have been best friends their whole lives and dating for years now. Cearo means Sorrow. Follows the film loosely, but as canon as possible. 

*Warnings: Some Suggestive Themes at the Start. Possessive Behavior. Mentions of pregnancy/ Wanting Children. Not Proof Read. 

Masterlist

Part One.

“Coryo?“ She mumbled against his skin, eyes straining upwards towards the young man's face from her position on his chest, chin pressed to his bare chest as sleep evaded them both. 

“Hmmmm” he mumbled back, hands wrapped around her waist as he enjoyed the comfort of her skin against his. 

“I know I ask this a lot, but tomorrow, once you win the plinth prize, nothing changes between us right?” Her begs for reassurance were something Coriolanus enjoyed. They made him feel wanted. Reminded him that she wanted to be with him, not just forced to be. 

“Nothing will ever change this (Y/N). What we have is special, I wouldn't give you up for all the money in the capital.” He kissed her forehead, blue eyes staring down at her sweet face.

(Y/N) Cearo. His childhood sweetheart. His best friend. She was the fuel to his fire. He couldn't imagine a life away from her, let alone a world where they weren't attached at the hip. Through the Dark Times, Through the Academy. He had been graced with her presence throughout his life. 

“Not ever for all the chocolate in the capital?” She raised a brow up at him, a smirk evident on her face. She squished her cheek back into his chest, he smiled at the warmth of her skin. 

“Never, but don't tell Grandma’am that. She'll be disappointed.” The fake gasp that left her made Coriolanus chuckle. 

“You don't think Grandma’am would miss me?” She looked up at him again. Big doe eyes holding a false look of offense only she could muster. He chuckled at her again. 

“I dare say she wouldn't even miss me if someone promised her that much chocolate.” They both laughed now, bed shaking slightly with their shared moment. 

“Well hopefully we won't have to find out since you've practically already won. Just have to decide what you'll buy first.” She chuckled again, settling back down into his arms. 

“I'll probably buy Tirgis a new dress, Grandma’am a box of chocolates, obviously, maybe some new shoes finally.” Perhaps a ring for you. He wanted to say. Coriolauns craved nothing more than making her his in every way possible. He craved the idea of their marriage, promising herself to him for all eternity. His very own first lady of Panem. 

“All very fine choices, Coryo. Of course how could I ever doubt you’d not have it all planned out already.” and boy did he have it all planned out. The Plinth Prize was far more than enough to cover his University tuition and make a few frivolous purchases. Maybe not the ring he’d wish to buy her truly but one pretty enough it’d make their peers envious. He could replace it with something more fitting in time. Not that that would matter to her in any way, she was always the sentimental type. The torn up photo of them as children in her mirror compact to prove so. 

“Coryo?” He hummed back in response. Blue eyes now closed as he tried to prepare for the morning to come. “You know I love you, right?” Her voice was hushed, another question asked for reassurance, which he loved. 

“Of course I do. Why?” He knew her answer. She said it every time he asked. 

“Because I do.” She said it so plainly. So simply. He loved it. 

“Well get some sleep then lover, we have the reaping tomorrow.” He heard her grunt, knowing the sleep was already taking her out. Tomorrow was to be the start of the rest of his life. He’d have the Plinth Prize. The Girl. The Name. All of it. 

“Goodnight darling.”

______________________________________________

By the time he woke up the next morning (Y/N) was long gone. She normally woke up before him to run home and get ready for the day. He’d meet her at her door to walk to school together. 

Coriolanus got up and got ready for his day. Cold shower. No breakfast. Lost shirt. The works. Thankfully Tirgis had come through for him and fixed up one of his fathers old shirts for the day. His Grandma’am even gave him two red roses for him and (Y/N). Today was one of the rare days he and his fellow students were not to wear their uniforms at the school, for the reaping, though it only made him worry more for his appearance. Nonetheless, Snow always lands on top, he would remind himself as he walked to (Y/N)’s Family’s Home. 

(Y/N) and her family lived in a fair sized home. Two streets down from Sejauns and his family and 4 blocks from him. They lived in a fairly large townhome. (Y/N) and her brother practically  have their own floors for their  bedrooms. William Cearo, (Y/N)’s younger brother. He was only 12 and he considered Coriolanus his ‘best friend’ whenever he went to visit their family home. She was a good match come time Coriolanus became president. Upstanding student, wealthy family, all he could ask for in a partner. Along with the added benefit she had been one of his only friends his entire life. 

As he approached the house out came (Y/N). Deep plum coat, black dress, one she had already had him approve of two nights before, and black heels. All accompanied by the  large black leather bag with her initials imprinted on the front that she took everywhere.Her hair was up in a twist on the back of her neck. Pity, he didn't do enough damage last night to keep it down, or at the very least show off what all their peers already knew. She practically skipped down the stairs to him, crashing into his arms and sealing their greeting with a kiss he knew her father would disagree upon. 

“Hi Coryo” She smiled as she looked him in his eyes. Her soft gaze made his heart swell. “I brought you a gift!” She exclaimed. Letting go of him to dig through her bag, pulling out a neatly wrapped parchment bundle. “Two blackberry and cream scones. I know they're your favorite and you’ll need something to keep your stomach calm for the reaping.” She held them out to her. Big eyes and even bigger smiles. He’d die without her, he swore it. 

“Well it just so happens I brought you a gift as well.” He held out the rose hearing her gasp of approval. “Technically it's from Grandma’am but as I’ve delivered it I am including myself.” He stepped up to her, pinning the rose neatly to her coat lapel. 

Another sign she's all mine. His inner thoughts stirred with delight. 

“It’s beautiful. I will have to thank Grandma’am for it when I see her next.” She handed him off the scones, neck craned to look down at the rose. “We better start walking before we are late to the reaping. Or at least before Willby sees you out the window.” She looked at the watch he hadn't even noticed she was wearing. 

“We’re gonna be a half hour early if we start now darling, you know this.” He protested, yet fell into step with her while unwrapping his treat. He’d never admit that without her spoiles he’d starve to death in class. She always brought him whatever treat her chefs had come up with that morning. Though scones were his favorite. He broke off a bite as she linked her arm through his for their journey. As they walked he got about half way through the second scone when she abruptly held a small glass water bottle to his mouth. 

“They're dry.” Was all she muttered as he took a small sip from her water. 

“You’re going to be a fantastic mother” Coriolanus chuckled as they continued to walk. Eyes watching her as she shoved the bottle back in her bag. 

“Hopefully one day. I always loved the idea of a big family. After university, obviously. Stay at home mom, I’d like at least two.” She looked up at him, judging his reaction he assumed. Coriolanus pretended to think for a moment. 

“I can work with two. I’d need at least one boy though, carry on the name obviously.” It was his turn now to judge her reaction. She chuckled. 

“Well I can’t control the gender. Although I’d like girls. I think youd be a fantastic Girl dad.” His smile brightened ten fold. 

“So you do.” He stated, practically stopping their stroll. 

“Do what Coryo?” She stopped with him. Arms still interlinked, both too caught up in each other's eyes. They were only about 100 or so steps from the school now. Coryo took 

“So you do want to have kids with me.” He knew the answer. They had talked about all of this before. Kids. Marriage. His strives for the presidency. 

“Obviously.” There it was again. The simplicity of her words. “After University and once you’ve married me, obviously. Then while you become president we can announce our first pregnancy, which will not only cause joy for the people of Panem, as everyone loves a good love story, it will also show the county you also have something to fight for as their president.” Ah yes, her plan. She was brilliant. She had plans to major in Public Image and Relations in University. Not a popular choice in their peer group but he had to hand it to her, one she would excel in prominently. 

“Oh so you wanna have kids with me for Panem and its citizens?” He watched her eyes roll as she turned to drag him towards the school doors. 

“Oh obviously Coriolanus, I only want to have your babies for Panem Mr. President.” They both laughed to themselves as they walked through the doors, arms interlocked. Mr. President, he liked that. 

 “Snow. Cearo.” Clemensia smiles as she approaches the two. Coriolanus opens his other arm to the dark haired girl. 

“Good Morning, Clems.” (Y/N)’s tone is still cheerful but Coriolanus can hear the anxiety start to take over as the reaping nears. (Y/N) hates the games, he knows this. She understands the games keep people in line though. 

“Good morning, (Y/N). How is your brother?” Clemensia was terrible at small talk. Her voice made Coriolanus cringe. She sounded venomous even when he knew she was just trying to be considerate. 

“He is good. He just got a new train set so he was up all night blasting its horn.”

They walked into the main auditorium and (Y/N) immediately dropped his arm to give Sejaunus a hug as he approached the group. Coriolanus had to hold back a scoff as she did so.Was it hypocritical of him to be jealous as he still had his arm linked with Clemensia? Probably, though he did consider Sejanus a friend but no friend was good enough to touch his girl. 

“Good morning (Y/N/N) You look stunning today as usual.. Good Morning Coriolanus. Clemensia.” Sejanus greeted as (Y/N) wrapped herself back into Coriolanus’s arm. He felt better back with her by his side. He nodded back to Sejanus in greeting. 

“Spill it, Sejanus!” Arachne’s prissy voice rang towards them. Another voice Coriolanus couldn't stand. In fact he couldn't stand most of the women in his peer group’s voices. 

Sejanus shook his head  as he scoffed. 

“Oh, no, I’m not going to ruin my father’s big day. No one here actually likes him but they do love his money… you know what that’s like, don’t you, Arachne?” Coriolanus felt the shakes of  (Y/N)’s shoulder as she silently snickered along with Sejanus’s comment. 

Arachne rolled her eyes and ran off to find someone else to bother. As Clemensia walked off to find her seat Sejanus looked at you both. 

 “Look, I know you have had high hopes for this Coriolanus but… there’s no prize. Not anymore.” 

He couldn't tell if you both had the same visual reaction but he could feel his own eyes widen and feel your grip on his arm tighten, head lifting off his shoulder. He stood there searching Sejanus’ expression for any signs of mockery. He looked down at you, hoping maybe you were in on this sick joke. But your expression held fear as you stared at Sejanus. 

“What?” he asked, words dark and airy, looking almost angry.  (Y/N)’s grip on his arm tightened  ever more. He was thankful for it. She grounded him. 

“I’m so sorry—”

Before Sejanus could finish his sentence, the trumpets announcing the reaping blared throughout the hall and all the students made their way to their seats. Coriolanus, as much as he didnt want to, slipped away from you letting you sit first before taking the seat to your right. Sejanus sat at  (Y/N) 's left, eyes full of pity. Clemensia sat next to him on his right. All turning their attention to Dr. Gaul. 

Her speech falls upon Coriolanus’ deaf ears. All his plans were ruined within seconds. No Plinth Prize means no University. No means to provide for his family. No Presidency. God forbid no  (Y/N). His thoughts eat at him. No Money. No Power. No Glory. His own fear of failure devours him. He felt  (Y/N)’s hand slide across his lap, the  movement breaking him from his thoughts. Looking down only momentarily to see it,hands interlocked she pulls his hand to her lap where she cradles it. Rubbing her thumb soothingly along the skin. He knows she can practically hear his thoughts. His grip tightens in hers. 

Dr. Gaul introduces Dean Highbottom, an old friend of his dad, inventor of the games. 

“I can’t believe they still allow him to speak in public,” Clemensia said to Coriolanus’ right. 

Dean was a known substance abuser and an all over terrible person in most everyone's eyes.What his dad saw in him as a friend Coriolanus would never understand. Though what could he say when one of his best friends was District afterall. 

“My own twenty-four top prospects. All waiting to hear the results of your hard studying in this prestigious institution, eager to know who’s won that Plinth prize, no doubt. And a golden future, with it.However… I’m here to tell you all that there’s been a change this year.”

(Y/N) squeezed Coriolanus’ hand back as he tensed. 

“One last assignment to prove your worth,” Highbottom announced, a grim look on his face. Coriolanus did his best not to shift in his chair.  “The esteemed citizens of the Capitol simply aren’t watching anymore. And if the games are to continue at all, there must be an audience, no?” Professor Highbottom smirked, Coriolanus watched him turn, looking over to him and his friends. 

“Head gamemaker Dr. Gaul has stepped in to… incentivize patriotic values with her own unique flair, starting with you. The Plinth prize will no longer be determined by who has the best grades.” 

Coriolanus sucked in a breath. Heart pounding. 

“Instead, it will be decided by who is the best mentor in the hunger games. As the reaping begins, I will allocate each one of the top twenty-four Capitol students a district tribute. A figure behind the scenes—one who must persuade them to perform for the cameras.”

He heard (Y/N) gasp. Archance let out a scoff. Sejanus’ face morphed into one of disgust. Visceral reactions from the crowd. 

“Your role is to turn these children into spectacles. Not survivors… victory in the games is only one of the considerations. Your entire future rests on this last project.” Highbottom continued. 

Corilanus zoned out again as Archane complained of her chances of getting an unworthy pick. He was fucked. This was God's sick way of tormenting him. He sat near frozen, eyes still staring up at the podium. 

“Oh, and I must warn you… anyone caught cheating to give their tributes an unfair advantage… Well, they’d just have no future at all.” Highbottom looked dead at him this time. He knew that his professor never favored him, but at this rate Coriolanus was starting to take it personally. The professor clapped once. 

“Here we go! Let the reaping ceremony begin.” Highbottom sat between Coriolanus and Clemensia’s feet on the bleachers. He started calling off the names after each victor was announced. (Y/N) was shaking slightly. She had started picking at the skin around her fingers, a nervous trait he had seen her do many times, normally he would take the time to stop her but at the rate he was about to join her in picking his own. 

“Sejanus Plinth, the male tribute from district two.” He saw his friend's eyes darken. (Y/N)’s shocked face turning to face their friend. “You got the pick of the litter.” Archane’s voice snickered. Behind the group. 

“You forget. I'm part of the litter.” Sejanus’ voice held anger. Coriolanus felt bad for him at that moment. He probably knew that boy. Coriolanus saw (Y/N)’s hand move to comfort Sejanus, soothingly rubbing his arm lightly. Sejanus reached up and held his hand over hers to stop her movement, Coriolanus could see it shaking as he rested it over hers. In that moment Coriolanus couldn't find it in himself to be jealous of interaction.

The reaping continued. Female from 3. Male from 3. Female from 4. Male from 4. And so on till the Female from 8, a tiny girl no older than 12, Wovey. 

“Female Tribute from Eight. (Y/N) Cearo.” He heard her gasp. Saw tears well in her eyes. Sejanus gasped. The two locking eyes across the girl. 

“She's no older than Wilby, Coryo…” Her whisper to him broke his heart. William meant the world to her and if she has already correlated Wovey with him she’s going to have a terrible time mentoring the sweet looking young girl. 

They sat in silence the rest of the reaping. His name is not yet being called. Sejanus shifting uncomfortably in his seat. (Y/N) picking at her fingers till they undoubtedly will bleed. 

Male from 10, Female from 10. Male from 11, Female from 11. Male from 12, Female from 12… 

Lucy Grey Baird. 

She was beautiful. Even Coriolanus could deny that. Her dress was covered in colors and her corset decorated in flowers. He had never seen an outfit quite like it before.

��And the runt girl from twelve goes to Coriolanus Snow.” Highbottom announced, even though him and everyone in the room already knew that from the fact he was the last unassigned mentor in the group. 

“What is that dress? Is she some sort of clown?” Coriolanus rolled his eyes at Archanes unnecessary comments. 

Suddenly on her way from the stage the girl stopped and seemed to have shoved something down another girls dress. The victims screams echoing through the speakers as she rolled in the ground. A snake slithering out from under her dress. 

The girl reached the stage and the mayor slapped her across the face. Coriolanus abruptly stood. Startling (Y/N) and their friends in the process. Then the signing started. First a small girl in the back. Then her… 

“She's singing? Is she out of her mind?” Archane scoffed again. 

“You really must learn when to shut up, Archane.” (Y/N)’s voice spat back at the girl. If Coriolanus wasn't so caught up in his tribute’s performance he would have snickered or at least kissed his girlfriend on the cheek for the snide comment but in this moment he was completely mesmerized by the girl on the screen. Her voice was beautiful, nothing like his Grandma’ams horrible morning renditions of the national anthem. Not like the soft and sweet voice of (Y/N) he would hear as she rocked William to sleep as a baby. No, it was something special. She was something special.  As Lucy Grey brought her signing to an end her scream rattled through the speakers of the program. 

“YOU CAN KISS MY ASS.” As she bowed with a smile all Coriolanus could think of is how beautiful she looked. She was his ticket to the prize, and she had the perfect potential. He just had to get his songbird to sing again.

#coriolanus snow #coriolanus x reader #coriolanus x you #coriolanus x lucy gray