#Fanfiction inspired by a song

[katreneebug]

I'm Okay (Trust Me) (Part 1/3)

Summary: Defeating Rapheal, and subsequently obtaining the Orphic Hammer, had gone exceptionally well. At least in comparison to how things usually go. However, as the companions move forward with their plans of parasitic liberation, Astarion can’t help but notice that their leader, and his lover, isn’t quite herself. Despite Tav’s assurances, the vampire spawn can tell that the events befalling The House of Hope still haunt her in more ways than one.

Parings: Tav x Astarion, Minor Shadowheart x Lae'zel

Warnings: Explicit content, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Dubious Consent, Sexual Coercion, Slight Victim Balming, Sexual Trauma, Eventual Smut

A/N: I decided to write this after I got through the House of Hope on my first playthrough. At first I was really excited at the prospect of getting to bed an incubus in the game but after everything was done I kind of felt off about the whole thing. Especially given that the player, after deciding not to fight, is given the choice to either let Haarlep use their image to have sex with a bunch of strangers or straight up die. It hit a little too close to home in regard to my own sexual trauma and how that has affected my self-esteem, relationships, and mental health.

I want to stress that there are some aspects of the story that don't match with the gameplay. An example of this would be going beyond the party size. You can pretend that this story is based on that no-limit companion mod lol.

Link to AO3: Here

            No last-minute begging had left Rapheal’s lips when Karlach raised her axe above him. The fact that it had been the final stroke came as a surprise to Astarion and, based upon the silence that drenched the room, the others. Not too far behind her could hear Tav panting, her magic practically drained to its limits. In the peripheral of his eyes, he could see Shadowheart’s armor move up and down as she too sought to catch her breath.

            Hope, who appeared the most worn out of the bunch, stood frozen to her spot by the door. Karlach noticed her immediately and moved to check on her, weapon still sunk deep within Rapheal’s chest. Astarion took the opportunity to walk over to him, caution obvious in the way he gripped his dagger.  

            There was no final spook to be had, though. Rapheal was dead, eyes wide and mouth slightly a gape with no more theatrics left on his tongue.  Good Riddance, he thought. A smirk danced onto his lips as he decided it was okay to turn back towards his companions. Hope was no longer a statue, the erratic motions from before returned vigorously as she took in their victory.

            The memory of Cazador lying vanquished on the ground materialized in his mind. He brushed it away quickly as Tav’s eyes landed on himself. A half-smile was the most she could muster before Lae’zel garnered her attention, talks of the next step towards freeing Orpheus’ flew from the githyanki’s mouth in rapid, yet precise, order. The lines in Tav’s forehead creased as she let her friend speak. Deciding to take pity on his lover, Astarion moved to stand beside her.

            “—The Emperor will know of what we have done, we must act fast upon our return.”

            “I—”

            “Surely you can’t expect us to go straight into the undercity of Baldur’s Gate after quite literally killing a devil.” Lae’zel sharp glare snapped up to meet his eyes. “I for one am not doing anything till I’ve had time to clean up, all of this.” His hand, the one not resting centimeters away Tav’s lower back, motioned to the state of his armor. Rapheal and his friends had left the floors of the foyer dripping in all sorts of blood and guts and, while Astarion’s body was happily intact, his outfit begged to differ.

            “He’s right, we should get some rest before meeting with Voss.” Lae’zel’s head snapped to see Shadowheart approaching. “It would be foolish to confront a mind flayer and a devil on the same day.” Lae’zel didn’t reply immediately, though the answer for what they should do was clear, she was not any happier to admit it.

            “All right,” she spat. “Prepare for an early departure by dawn, I will not wait for anyone.”

            “Of course,” he hummed with a dismissive wave.

. . .

            “I’m just saying we should take some more time to discuss our next course of action.” Gale instinctively backed up as Lae’zel stalked his receding form. “It would be unwise to go in all wands blazing without considering the effect this might have.”

            “I am not leaving my Prince at the hands of a ghaik any longer.” Astarion had no interest in interfering on the wizard’s behalf. Watching the man sweat was more than amusing. “The only thing unwise would be for you to continue talking.”

            “What if freeing Orpheus leads to us losing our only protection from the absolute.” It was Wyll who stepped in between the two. No surprises there, the vampire thought. Lae’zel had burst through the doors of their room at the inn with an attitude ready to fight the next person who dared to go against her plans.

            “It will, I’ve already told you that freeing Orpheus will only result in him—”

            “Will someone please get the squid to shut up.” Astarion winced, feeling the pain of The Emperors telepathy within his mind. How lucky Halsin and Jaheira were to not feel such an annoying headache.

            “Gladly,” Lae’zel sneered.

            “There are still other issues that we need to address.” Halsin’s voice passed by Astarion from behind, he could feel the bear of a man coming closer to the group before passing the vampire all together to aid Wyll and Gale from the Lae’zel’s wrath. “Orin and Gortash are still alive, it would be best to get rid of them before going to the astral plane.

            “Agreed, we cannot allow the absolute to draw more power from the city. It’s time we faced them.” Halsin nodded an acknowledgement at Jaheira, her argument adding to the growing resistance.  

            Quickly the room devolved into a mass of bickering, Lae’zel mostly fighting alone on her side. It took Astarion a few moments to realize that there was something off about the whole scene. It stumped him briefly but the soft steps of someone else moving about in the background was the answer.

            “Not going to step in, dearest?” Tav jumped a bit as Astarion walked towards her, his back now to the group. “It’s very unlike you.”

            “It’s been a long day,” the bed bounced slightly as she dropped her pack onto it. “And I don’t feel like picking a fight with Lae’zel.” If only the rest were that smart, he thought. “She’ll see reason soon enough, anyways. We really do need to usurp Orin and Gortash while we can.”

            “I’m sure she will,” his lips curled. “Right after she breaks a couple of Gale and Wyll’s ribs, of course.”

            “Shadowheart will fix them up,” her body joined the bag as she sat down onto the covers. “Or Halsin, either way they’ll be fine.”

            “I love this newfound ‘compassion’ of yours,” he briefly glanced away, catching sight of a smaller person far from the argument occurring. Either Yenna was blissfully unaware or was doing a great job at pretending everything was okay. “I just wish you had acquired it earlier.” Then maybe they wouldn’t be stuck worrying about every little orphan who manipulated Tav’s kindness.

            “They’re adults, they can take care of themselves.” He raised an eyebrow at this. Was she really letting things go for once. “I’m tired and I want to sleep.” She wasn’t looking at him anymore, choosing to instead dig around into her bag that she never organized, even at his insistence.

            “Fair enough,” a level of trepidation lined his voice. Before he could ask if she was alright, a loud clang hit the floor behind him, silencing the bickering voices. He turned away instinctively, catching sight of Lae’zel stomping away towards the door. A dagger, no doubt previously aimed towards the other men, laid forgotten at Halsin’s feet.

            “Fine,” she spat, casting one last glance towards them before nearly kicking the door off its hinges. “Cowards, all of you.” With that, she was gone. Shadowheart moved a few steps, considering the possibility of going after her, before ultimately stopping. Even from her his spot, Astarion could see the way her jaw clenched, hands balled at her sides.

            The rest of them dispersed to their own spots in the room, silence hung in the air uncomfortably. Karlach’s, he noticed, took a moment to collect Lae’zel’s dagger. She rarely used such a small weapon in combat, opting for her painfully heavy sword and bow. The little thing glinted in the light briefly before the Tiefling went to place it neatly on Lae’zel’s bunk.

            Such a mess they were, he thought with a shake of his head.

. . .

            He tried not to stare too much at Tav. His own bed had been placed directly next to hers and it was becoming harder to ignore the way she shifted and squirmed under the covers. Sleep came easily to the girl, at least most of the time. Her experience with combat and adventuring was limited before the parasite, her body unuse to such strenuous work. She rarely complained, though. The only indicator that this was tough for her especially being how quickly she tuckered out at the end of the day.

            There was a chance that some of the chatter was keeping her up. The silence hadn’t lasted too long before Karlach, Shadowheart, and Jaheira set up some type of card game. They weren’t particularly loud, save for whenever Karlach gained the upper hand in the game. Gale had tried shushing her a couple of times before ultimately giving up. The book in his hands had eventually engrossed him enough to tune it all out.

            When moonlight began to seep through their windows, Tav snores still not filling the air, Astarion decided to forsake his own spot. Standing over her crumbled form brought back the memory of the first time he had attempted to drink her blood. The few nights before that had been increasingly painful as he watched her lie so sweetly under the stars. Over time she felt less like a person and more like a beautiful feast, all set out for him alone. It was a shock, looking back, how long he held out on partaking.

            Her reaction to noticing him looming over her this time around was much less frantic. A little bit of surprise played on her parted lips as she slowly sat up to speak. There was still a hint of innocence in her eyes whilst meeting his gaze. Scores of monsters and cultists had perished under her spells and blades and yet it didn’t jade her the way it would for other humans.

            So precious, he thought.

            “Is something wrong?” It came out as a whisper, her eyes glancing left to confirm that Wyll remained unmoving in his bunk.

            “I was actually just about to ask you that, darling.” He wasn’t as quiet as her, unafraid that the Blade of Frontiers would wake up easily. “You’ve been acting peculiarly since we got back, care to enlighten me?”

            “I told you I was tired,” she looked away. “It’s been a very long day.”

            “And yet you’ve been tossing and turning for nearly an hour.” He crossed his arms over his chest, feeling a little too much like a scolding parent than a partner.

            “I . . .” She trailed off, knees moving up to support her chest as she leaned forward. “There’s just a lot on my mind right now. Between the netherstones and Orpheus, it’s just overwhelming.”

            “Anything I can do to help,” the bed dipped as he took a seat. There was little space between the two of them now and a part of him buzzed pleasantly at the thought of pulling her into an embrace. They hadn’t been all that touchy as of late. His confession at Moonrise had practically halted most forms of intimacy between them. An outsider looking in wouldn’t have guessed how close the two of them were in comparison to the others. Feather light touches and the occasional hug made up most of the relationship now. Sometimes he would steal a kiss, a usually quick action that ended before Tav had much time to register the affection.

            They had on occasion shared a bedroll back when they were out in the wild. She’d curl up against his side, a hand resting on the part of his chest where his heart once beat. He’d count the constellations whilst listening to the change in her breathing, the obvious indicator that she had plunged into a deep sleep. There, hidden from Cazador and the absolute, a flutter would come and go underneath his ribs. Perhaps he wasn’t all that dead.

            “No, I’ll be okay.” She shook her head, hair rustling against the sides of her face. “Don’t worry about me, please.”

            “Easier said than done, my dear.” The little pout that appeared on her lips decided his next move for him. “Now, scout over.” Tav’s eyes widened, gaze snapping back up to his face. She was still for a few moments, studying his features with an intensity one might have for a major test.

            Little voices scrapped against the back of his mind as he exalted all his control in keeping a calm demeanor. Any doubt or uncertainty would have Tav pushing him away. She was always so concerned about his comfort. It was welcomed graciously most of the time but, as much as the sentiment warmed his icy body, it could also sting. He was not nearly as fragile as she seemed to think he was.

            She only puts up with you because she pities you.

            “O-Okay,” Astarion almost breathed out a sigh of relief when she complied with the request. He wasted no time in joining her under the covers, lest she change her mind at his reluctance.

            She was rigid against him, even after he comfortably adjusted against the mattress. Instead of holding him, like she used to, Tav rolled over so that her back was facing him instead. Both of her hands clenched the sheets rather than his clothes. It unnerved him even more than the silence that passed between him.

            “You know,” he whispered. “I was afraid that your droopy mood had something to do with vanquishing our old ‘friend’, Rapheal.” Acidity coated his pronunciation of the devil’s name. Tav’s body twitched when she heard it, somehow tensing even more than before.

            “I’m glad he’s dead,” disdain leaked from her mouth as she sought to relax her body. “I wish I had cut out his tongue earlier, though. I can still hear his stupid, dramatic voice in my head.”

            “Perhaps I can take your mind off of it?” The sly words fell out of Astarion’s mouth without him even having a chance to think it over. Flirtatiousness was an instinct after two centuries and getting rid of it wasn’t something easily undone. A heaviness set within his chest, an all too familiar panic that he may have gone too far. She shook in his grasp and that heaviness gave way to bitter bile. Swallowing it down with a cough, Astarion placed a hand on her shoulder. “Forgive me, I didn’t—”

            “It’s fine.” Her statement, spoken quicker than before, felt like a cut. “I’m not in the mood, anyways.”

            Not in the mood for you, at least.

            She thinks you’d break under her touch.

            Besides, why would she want you when she just had him.

            He inhaled sharply at the memory conjured up by the swirling voices. He would have kicked himself for carelessness had she not been lying next to him. Amid their quest within the House of Hope, Astarion had been able to push down their interaction with Rapheal’s favorite toy. Now, with her distant yet so close, he could no longer.

. . .

            “I beg your pardon,” the snap of Astarion’s voice rang within the chamber. The marble floor beneath his feet nearly crumbled under the stomp of his boots. A hand kept him from getting closer to the bed before them. “Would you like to repeat that little request?”

            “I said,” the incubus’ eyes looked only at Tav. “Take off your clothes.”

            “Uh, why?” Her voice bordered on cracking. It was her fingers that kept him from throwing a dagger between Haarlep’s eyes.

            “Do you or do you not want my help,” playfulness dripped from the incubus as he rolled softly against the covers of the mattress. “I at least deserve something from you, seeing as you’re asking for so much.”

            “And you’re asking for an arrow through the throat.” Astarion grumbled, fingers flexing and ready for Tav to give the orders to fight.

            “Hypothetically, what were to happen if I did take off my clothes.” His jaw clenched as the human woman spoke slowly.  

            “Well,” he drawled, lips curling in a cat like smirk. “Let’s just say it’s a surprise.”

            “A surprise from an incubus? I wonder what that could possibly be,” Astarion’s mocking voice did little to faze the other man.

            “No need to be so jealous, little spawn.” The grip on Astarion’s shoulder tightened, Tav accurately guessing how restraint was practically peeling away from him. “I have only the best of intentions in mind.”

            “Oh really—”

            “Gives a moment, if that’s okay.” Tav began to pull against him, trying to bring him back towards the group. Haarlep nodded his head which was answer enough for Tav to motion for the companions to form a huddle of sorts.

            “We’re killing him, right?” An unsureness plagued Tav’s face as she shied away from his intense gaze.

            “Honestly, taking up his offer might be the best option.” He made a point to glare at Shadowheart. She looked only at Tav though, not bothering with the pissy vampire. “As much as I want to avoid it, a fight with Rapheal is practically inevitable at this point. Especially if we go through with freeing Hope. I’d rather we save up our resources for that fight instead of wasting it on him.” She motioned towards the incubus with a jerk of her chin.

            “If it were me, I’d rather gut him.” Lae’zel chimed in before Astarion could retort. “But I am not the one he is asking for.” Her gaze fell to Tav.

            “I’m completely fine with ripping his annoying face off,” Karlach glanced back at the Rapheal look-a-like. “But yeah, it’s up to you soldier.”

            “I mean,” the human’s face contorted as pros and cons weighed back and forth within her mind. “If we go against him, who knows what other cronies he’d bring into the fight. Plus, it can make it that much harder to get back to the hammer in time.”

            She wants to say yes to him, the offer is rather tempting.

            “Exactly, I say we get the hammer first with as little complications as possible.” Very few times had Shadowheart’s neck looked so perfectly ready to be ripped out in Astarion’s eyes.

            “Why don’t you take her place, if the choice is so easy.” She rolled her eyes at him.

            “I don’t see why not,” her lips curled up in a bitter smirk. “I’m sure he’s all sorts of fun.”

            “Such a tempting offer,” Haarlep’s voice broke into the group. Apparently, the huddle was pointless if he could hear everything from his side of the room. “But I have my sights set on your little leader. She’s stirred up Rapheal quite a bit with how passionately she denied his deal.”

            “Pity,” the former Sharran mumbled.

            “Now if you lot are somehow able to survive this little trip, I’d be more than happy to pencil you in for a play date, half-elf.” A silent chuckle left Shadowheart’s lips as she shook her head. Astarion couldn’t tell if she’d be against such an offer in the future.

            “Fight or Fornicate, make up your mind before we’re out of choices.” Lae’zel turned back to Tav as the human seemed even more indecisive than before.

            “I . . .” Her eyes met his then, as the rest of the group waited in bated breath for an answer. They stared at each other as each passing second felt even slower than the last.

            She wants your permission.

            You’ve left her longing for too long.

            The answer to her needs is practically begging to relieve her.

            He could do so, so much more for her.

            She’s tired of waiting for you to get a grip. So tired of holding your pathetic hand.

            I’d be cruel to deny her such an experience.

            “. . . It’s up to you, my love.” Throwing the façade of acceptance on his face wasn’t too hard to do. He had done it so many times before, he had practically become a master of it at this point. “I won’t hold it against you, whatever you decide.”

            She was quiet, facing smoothing at as her decision was made within her mind. She turned back to Haarlep first, prompting the others to do the same. Astarion, though, kept most of his attention on her and not the creature he wanted to eviscerate.

            Something inside him shattered as her lithe fingers went to the hem of her shirt. The realization that she was about to disrobe in front of Haarlep and their friends hit him like a pommel strike. The voices in his head were twisting wildly within his mind and somehow, throughout the horror of it all, he found himself bitterly thankful for Tav’s choice in today’s team.

            It was no secret that all their companions had, at one point, made a pass at Tav. Her rejection of them always had a sliver of satisfaction rolling up his spine. In Karlach, Shadowheart, and Lae’zel’s case, they had taken her no rather well. It was easy enough for the later two who had begun ‘sparring’ away from the eyes of the camp sometime after their interaction with the creche. Their excuse was that they needed more space to fight and that they didn’t want to ‘accidentally’ hurt someone during the intense training.  

            Hate sex is the best sex, Tav had muttered one night as she and Astarion caught the two women glaring at each other whilst walking off into the woods. He had curled his lips at the scandalous statement, deciding silently to remember the tidbit for a possible future tryst.

            Karlach, Astarion realized, was just happy to have the embrace of a friend. Romance had been easily forgotten by the Tiefling. The same couldn’t be said for Gale and Wyll. They had assured her that it was alright before and Tav had taken it at face value. Astarion knew better though, could see it in the way their eyes followed her. When she spoke, they would glance at her lips and look away as if caught with their hand in the proverbial cookie jar. The vampire spawn sometimes basked in the longing he could see within them every time he displayed even the smallest of Tav’s reciprocated affections.

            “Could you all go guard the door,” snapping out his trance, Astarion watched as Tav put a pause on removing her clothes. “The last thing we need is Rapheal waltzing in.”

            “Of course,” Shadowheart was the first to comply. Lae’zel quirked an eyebrow for a moment before leaving as well. He could feel Karlach looking back and forth between him and Tav. Reluctantly she placed a hand on his shoulder and encouraged him to walk away with her. Though her engine had been fixed, her palm was practically scalding against the thin fabric of his disguise.

            “We’re just across the room,” he murmured. “In case you need us.”

            With a nod of Tav’s head, Astarion finally complied with Karlach’s touch. The two turned around to trail after the other members of their party. He focused on the echo of the grand faucets flowing hot water into the pool between them. Anything to keep from catching the sound of whatever surprise the incubus had in mind.

            “You okay?” Astarion growled lowly at the question. He knew that Karlach’s concern was genuine, deep down, yet he couldn’t help but feel only irritation.

            “Of course I am.” He sneered; he wasn’t the one stuck staring at Rapheal’s stupid face. He considered telling them to not talk to him, as he was in no mood. Yet the little chatter that passed between the other three was something to hold onto. Very little went by the doorway of the boudoir, just a couple of miserable waifs limping about. A wonderful reminder of what might happen to them sooner rather than later.

            “—Must we waste time freeing her.”

            “Are you suggesting we leave Hope chained to this asshole.” He didn’t want to look behind him to watch their argument.

            “The longer we stay here, the more likely we are to join her.” Shadowheart’s voice was farthest away. A little too far for his liking, more likely to see what was happening past the pool.

            It must be quite a show, maybe she’ll tell you all the gory details later.

            Or maybe Tav will, how long will it be before his name passes those luscious lips.

            She won’t want you after this.

            What’s the point of a pretty face when that’s all it is. She’ll get sick of looking at it when she realizes she could have more.

            He didn’t know how much time had passed when Shadowheart’s voice cut through the mess in his head.

            “It looks like they’ve stopped,” gods he was going to throw up. “Come on.”

            Luckily the half-elf was correct. By the time the four of them had come to the other end of the room, Haarlep was already off the bed and looking starkly different from before. Instead of the near perfect imitation of Rapheal, he had shifted into a woman. An improvement, yes, but still too like the devil in looks. Tav was shimmying her shirt back on, something black and tight coverd the rest of her body. She hadn’t worn it before.

            Haarlep, noticing their return, locked eyes with him particularly. The ends of his lips twisted higher than they had before. In the blink of an eye the new feminine form shifted into something all too familiar. Instead of the Rapheal look alike, a copy of Tav now smirked at him.

            To his utter displeasure, the incubus was gone before the shock could lift. Tav didn’t waste time in collecting the contents of the safe. The portrait of Rapheal broke in half under her hands as she pried it off the wall. It was tossed unceremoniously across the floor. If only they had time to destroy more of the devil’s tacky décor.

            “Let’s go,” Tav was striding past them. Determination set within the crease of her forehead. There were questions on the tongue of each one of them. Ultimately their curiosity was left unspoken.

#Hurt/Comfort #angst with a happy ending #dubious consent #miscommunication #baldurs gate 3 #bg3 #bg3 spoilers #bg3 tav #astarion #astarion x reader #astarion x tav #eventual smut #insecurity #trauma #I see your baldurs gate titles inspired by Hozier songs #and raise you titles inspired by MCR lyrics #no betas we die like alfira #baldurs gate once again hitting too close to home #victim blaming #fanfiction #baldurs gate fanfiction

[capnhanbers]

I'm a mean green mother from outer space and I'm BAD!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

(scene from chapter 139)

#undertale #flowey #frisk #sans #naya #undertale oc #undertale fanfiction #sans x oc #Jack of an trades #joat #my art #comic #chapter art #I'M A MEAN GREEN MOTHER A REAL DISGRACE AND YOU GOT ME FIGHTIN MAD!!!!! #with these big drawings there always ends up being a song that inspires me through it and i couldn't really find one for this #imagine my delight when i turned on the little shop of horrors movie score LMAOOOO #WE'RE GONNA DO THINGS MY WAY OR WE WON'T DO THINGS AT AAAAAAALL #WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO HERE WE MFING GOOOOOOOOOO BITCH!!!!!!!!!! #i had fun experimenting with this comic!!! like the goo! and also cutting in real photo eyes and teeth for that last flowey #big things in this chapter gang big big things #this is a scene we've been leading up to since the beginning :-) since i decided to make joat a big ol vessel for all my utdr feelings #a body for chara a soul for flowey #I'm just :) excited :))) #we're in the finale y'all

[blossom-works]

"Only You and I Exist"

Inspired by the song "Exist" by Eric Nam. I went to his concert (House on a Hill tour) and I fell in love with this song.

For as long as Leon has known, he has always been alone. His family got themselves killed because they dabbled in crime, and everyone he got close with dies or goes their separate ways. Stability is foreign to him. Leon never voices this because he does not want to sound like a wimp. People have gone through the same shit he has, so who is he to complain?

Getting calls from the DSO and going somewhere in the world for an unknown amount of time is Leon's life. It has been since he saved Ashely in the remote, Spanish village. After completing a mission, Leon would either drown himself in alcohol or silence. Sometimes both. To himself, Leon is a speck of dust flying through the wind. No direction in life. Just lost in the neverending gust of wind.

Leon longed for stability. He longed for someone to pull him out of the life of uncertainty and pain. He wanted someone who could understand him. Leon wanted someone to ground him when the wind blew too hard...Then you came along.

You became Leon's anchor when the missions and responsibilities were about to push Leon over the edge. You two met on a DSO mission as partners. You know those scenes in movies or books where two people are at their lowest and they share their stores, and next thing you know they leave closer than before? Yeah, that happened to you and Leon. He wishes that you two met in better circumstances, but you told him that all that matters is what is in front of you.

You knew about the baggage Leon carries and he knows about yours. It was hard for the two of you to get over your trauma, still is. Leon was scared at how easy it was to love you. He knew what love was but something like this? So consuming? Is that what love is? If it is then Leon wants it to stay that way. He wants you to hold him when the wind blows too hard, and it is scary.

What if, like everyone else, you leave Leon alone? That the two of you were never meant to be so the world will eventually take you from him. A blip. Whenever Leon feels like this, you hold him in your hands and tell him, "We're in this together." Pulling him from his dark thoughts. You let him know that loving each other is worth the risk. When you two are together, you should forget about the unforgiving world outside and bask in each other's love.

So, here he is. At a concert that you wanted to go to because Leon did not want you to go alone. He knows that you can handle yourself, you have proven that more than once but it is Leon's job to protect you. In exchange for the love you give him, Leon will protect you with his life. When the artist starts to sing one specific song, it reminds Leon of you and your relationship.

You managed to get two floor tickets and you got to the venue a little late so you are standing on the outside of the crowd. Leon pulls you towards him, a few steps away from everyone, and holds you against him.

"Hold, hold me in your hands I'm just a speck of sand Lost in the wind 'Til I catch your drift Spinning me in circles, oh It's easy to dismiss As if we're just a blip Put it on the line Just for tonight Only you and I exist"

Dancing to lyrics, you and Leon are in your own world. No one else is in that venue but the two of you. So close Leon holds you and you can feel his heartbeat. Your bodies sway in small circles to the rhythm of the melody.

"Why do we fear what we could have When it gets good we always run away? Scared that wе might repeat the past Fallin' in lovе should never feel this way"

Leon refuses to go back to his way of life. The dark and unknowing life he lived. A mentally and physically draining life he lived. He was a fool to be scared to open himself to you, to let you hold his heart in your hands because you take so good care of it. You cradle his heart like a precious jewel. Leon knows that there will be times when either one of you will bury yourselves in the darkness again, but it is okay. You have each other. Love is scary but it is so worth it, Leon learned. The stability and intimate connection Leon has longed for is finally found, and he will never let you go. Not to anyone or the world itself.

"Only you and I exist"

#x reader #resident evil #reader insert #leon kennedy x reader #resident evil 2 #resident evil 4 #resident evil 6 #resident evil vendetta #resident evil death island #resident evil infinite darkness #re 4 remake #re2 remake #leon s kennedy #leon kennedy imagine #resident evil imagine #resident evil x reader #fanfiction #song inspired

[leavemeslowly]

III. queen of peace

Pairing: Susie Glass x Edward Horniman

TV show: The Gentlemen (2024)

word count: 1472

warnings: angst, alcohol consumption, not-super-graphic smut, love/hate? relationship

„The queen of peace

Always does her best to please

Is it any use?

Somebody’s gotta lose"

Susie and Eddie become partners, tell each other some dark truths and well… Susie listens to him against her better judgement.

Susie and Eddie stumbled into his office, laughing about something that Freddie shouted after them when they left the party happening in the living room.

Eddie closed the doors behind them and moved to the front of his desk where he hid a certain document. He handed Susie a blue fountain pen and asked her to sign. Naturally, not with her real signature because that could prove their professional relationship to the authorities. She signed with a doodle of a gun. He then drew a middle finger next to it. Their deal was done. They were in business, together.

„So, now we are equals?”, Eddie asked after he put the document inside of a safe hidden behind one of many paintings purchased by his father. Susie smiled enigmatically.

„Ta, I suppose we are. I will miss giving you orders."

"I am sure you will continue giving them anyway.” Eddie moved to a mini bar and poured them drinks. She smiled at him, thinking that he was probably right. Susie also knew that he will be more than happy to take them.

“Any plans what you want to do first?” She asked when he gave her a full glass.

“No”, She lifted her eyebrows. “I mean I do, but not today. Anyone ever told you, you are a workaholic?”

That is why she appreciated his companionship. He wasn’t afraid to challenge her and say it as it was.

“No.” Her expression changed to a more serious one. "Everyone else is too scared to tell me the truth."

“I am not afraid of you.” He searched for her eyes and his voice softened as if there was another dimension to his words. „I know what you are capable of when I pushed you. I have learnt my lesson.”

Susie sat in an armchair behind his desk and looked very pleased with herself taking his place.

„When I told Gospel the truth about his brother what led to his visit on your estate, I did it because you lied to me. I was angry at you, Eddie. It was personal. Don’t betray me again.”

Eddie nodded and moved closer to her. He leaned on his desk when looking down on her and not knowing how to respond to her confession. Admittedly, he was surprised by it. She sounded hurt rather than angry but he didn’t pointed that out aloud.

„I told Johnston, back when I still considered his support that I do not want any of your family members hurt. Of course, you too, Susie.” He paused to catch her eye and ensure she understands. „I don’t want to fight.” She looked up and met his eyes with openness he wasn’t prepared for.

„Is there anything you want then?”

„You know I want a lot of things.” He answered vaguely but not without understanding the hints she was dropping. „And it is all your fault.”

„Oh, really? I don’t think it is, Edward. I think you have always wanted it all. Military, this whole protector of your family act were meant to conceal your ambition. You don’t have to hide from me. We have already showed each other our darkest colours.”

Eddie was blindsided by her words that caused all of his pretences to tumble and crush into pieces. She stripped him of his defences with few punctuated words. Susie knew it and couldn’t contain her smirk of satisfaction.

“Always so smug, aren’t you?” Eddie countered gracelessly. She rolled her eyes and raised from her seat. Her words were the first loud declaration of his deepest and most sinister thoughts. “You don’t what to hear what I have to say?”

“No, not particularly.”

Eddie knew better so raised to his height and looked down on her. Her perfume lingered around him and the truth was he was under her spell not other way around. Nevertheless, he will try to even out the odds.

“You have it all, right? You are immaculate in protecting your empire but not for yourself, not really. For your brother, your father. You have a fucked up notion of obligation from which you can’t free yourself. You should want something just for you, Susie. Something substantial because I know you are not easily satisfied. Is there anything you would want? Anything I can give you, perhaps?”

Susie’s expression changed but she still was almost rigid. She had her head slightly tilted so she could gaze on his face. Finally, she slowly leaned in. Her hand landed on his lapel.

“You have no idea what you are asking for.”

He inched closer to her face and slowly, testing the waters, placed his hand on her cheek. Susie shivered at his touch, probably because of a coldness of his signet. Her eyelashes fluttered when she felt his breath on her lips. Eddie wanted to ruin her perfectly painted red lipstick which tempted him so many times before. He knew it will happen but the wait was crushing.

“Come on, Susie, tell me. What is that you want?” He caressed her cheek trying to encourage her to relax. “Should I give you an idea?”

He noticed the way her throat bobbed trying to mute any unwanted sounds. It was satisfying, going exactly in the direction he imagined.

“You should just kiss me, Edward, and stop teasing. For your own good.” Susie regained her old self and an ounce of self-composure.

Her words were like a sound of a gun being fired. Eddie crushed his lips to her. She immediately responded with need he didn’t anticipate. Still, her taste, her small noises were like magic. Until this moment, he didn’t realise how much he missed closeness and simplicity of a touch. This need was pathetic. He called out Susie on her weaknesses but he wasn’t better when he turned them around and pinned her to his desk and manoeuvred her to sit on it.

„You do justice to your family name, Eddie” Susie mumbled between their kisses. If he could, he would roll his eyes but just laughed, too busy kissing down her throat. Her fingers slipped into his hair, tugging it and he could not contain his moan. „So you like it like that? Not so tough anymore."

„You are talking too much, Susan.” Eddie raised his gaze to her stormy eyes. She slowly smiled but could not conceal desire looming there.

Her fingers slowly circled his tie and pulled it forcing him to kiss her again, but slower, according to her own want. She took it off and untucked first buttons of his shirt. Eddie's hands roamed over her back, then down her things and back up under he vest. Suddenly, she almost sobbed into his mouth. He discovered she wasn’t wearing anything under it so his cold fingers came into contact with her bare skin.

Her jacket dropped to the floor next. Before she could react, Eddie was moving her to stand in front of him and brace her palms on the desk. He wanted to evaporate her thoughts, end her worries and let her finally relax. He pressed himself to her back and she moaned feeling him tall and unyielding.

It was right how she fitted between his arms, almost a head lower and staring up into his eyes. Her own were glazed with pure want that if necessary would send Eddie to another war. He touched her jaw to draw her to him and kiss her thoroughly while his other hand embraced hers. Their fingers intertwined and she gasped when his hand slid down her throat to slowly embrace her breast and pleasure her with his touch. He observed her opened mouth and small cries she let out.

„Eddie, it is too much.”

„So do you know now what you want?” He was teasing but he needed her to voice her desires. Perhaps, it was not strictly necessary knowing his own desperate craving but he wanted her to have it burned in her memory. That it was her own decision to fuck him and let him close enough to see her vulnerability. He did not want regrets and another cause for war.

„Eddie...” She didn’t want to admit it aloud. Still, she tried to express it when he forced her to look at him and saw her eyelids half closed and felt her slow grinding against him.

„Say it, Susie, God, please say it.” He was slowly losing a fight he began when she on the other hand was regaining control. It was her turn to foreshadow all the things she could do to him. Against his better judgement, he clutched her thigh and finally pushed into her ass. Not expecting that, she abruptly tilted her head back onto his arm and thrusted back with more fierceness.

„Yes, Eddie, yes, do your worst."

#I don’t know what that is #I tried to resolve their tension by creating more tension???? #the gentlemen #the gentlemen 2024 #eddie x susie #horniglass #theo james #kaya scodelario #fanfic #ao3 #ff #fanfiction #short story #post canon #florence and the machine #lyrics #song inspired #angst #smut #I ship it #ship #otp #Netflix #tv show #season 1

[theostrophywife]

take it off.

i just wanna watch you when you take it off take off all your makeup, baby take it off take off all your clothes and watch you take them off

masterlist (azriel x reader) author's note: could not stop thinking about coming home from an event with azriel and him just helping you undress and wind down for the evening. song inspiration: tio by zayn.

The soft glow of the twinkling faelights illuminated your bedchambers as you and your mate made your way inside. The door clicked shut behind Azriel, but he stayed put and leaned against the frame as you shimmied out of your heels. 

The shadowsinger watched you with a small smile on his face. As much as he loved seeing you all dressed up in that sinful cobalt dress, Azriel enjoyed this part of the night even more. At the ball earlier tonight, everyone was free to admire your beauty. To trace every soft curve of your body that he’d dutifully committed to memory. To track every surface of exposed olive skin that felt like silk underneath his touch. To trail the elegant lines of your cheeks and neck and collarbone that he’d run his fingers through a hundred times over. 

But this side of you—this was all for him. Azriel was the only one who got to watch you take it all off at the end of the day and he fucking loved it. It was like unwrapping his favorite gift on Winter Solstice night. 

You settled in front of the wooden vanity by the wall, moonlight streaming through your hair as you pulled out the sapphires pinning your locks. One by one, you stacked them neatly at the edge of the desk, leaving your long dark hair loose and flowing down your back. 

Azriel wanted nothing more than to run his fingers through those silky tresses, but he stayed perfectly still. Even his shadows reached out for you and he had to reel them back in. He wouldn’t touch you; not yet at least. The shadowsinger wanted to admire you, drink you in, savor you before he completely devoured you. 

He observed in awe as you wiped off the cosmetics from your face, revealing those freckles that he loved so much. Azriel fought the urge to trace them with his fingers as he was prone to do when you were lying in bed together. Your mate compared it to charting the constellations and by now he had memorized every star etched upon your lovely face. 

“Beautiful,” Azriel breathed as he came up behind you. It didn’t matter that he’d seen you do this a hundred times over. He’d never get used to how breathtaking you were. The shadowsinger leaned down, kissing the top of your head. “You’re beautiful, my love.”

You smiled shyly, meeting his eyes in the mirror. “I love when you look at me like that, Az. Like I’m the only female in the world.”

He kissed your cheek. “You are to me, baby.”

You twined your fingers through his, pressing gentle kisses onto his scarred hands. A knowing smirk curled through your lips. “Care to help me out of this dress?” 

The shadowsinger nodded, his hazel eyes glowing golden in the darkness as he caressed your cheek. “You never have to ask twice.” His cool breath fanned over your skin as he nuzzled his chin in the crook of your neck, golden eyes meeting yours in the mirror. “As stunning as you look in this dress, I’ve been waiting all night for the chance to take it off.”

You shivered as he carefully brushed your hair aside, his rough and calloused fingers a sensuous whisper against your skin. He hummed in appreciation as he slowly undressed you, unzipping your dress until the velvet fabric fell and pooled at your feet. And just because he could, Azriel helped you to your feet and twirled you around, drinking in the sight of you in nothing but a lacy lingerie set. 

Your mate towered over you as his hands trailed up your spine, smirking to himself when you leaned into him. He took his time, tracing the delicate lace of your bra, cupping your breasts in appreciation before he unclasped the entire thing in one swift movement. Every layer that came off made him harder and harder to the point of pain, but he didn’t care. He’d endure it if it meant getting to unravel you until you were laid bare before him. 

Azriel trailed a path of kisses down your torso and hooked his fingers through the waistband of your panties. You steadied yourself on his shoulders and slipped out of the fabric. It took every ounce of Azriel’s restraint to help you shrug into your robe instead of throwing you on the bed and having his way with you right then and there. 

You could feel how turned on he was through the bond so you smiled, giving him a chaste kiss that left him wanting more. “Thank you, baby.” 

Azriel cupped your face in his hands and gently kissed your temple. “Any time, my love.” 

There was a devious glint in your eyes when he pulled away. “How does a hot bath sound?” 

He grinned, dimples appearing on that breathtakingly beautiful face. “Like the best damned thing I’ve heard all night.” 

You chuckled. “Come on, then. Maybe I’ll even throw in a massage if I’m feeling generous.” 

“Don’t tease, baby,” Azriel drawled, his voice rough and husky. “It’s cruel.” 

You ran your pointer finger over the curve of his wing, smirking as Azriel shuddered. “Me? Tease you?” Your lilting laughter rattled his bones as you kissed his cheek. “I’d never dream of it, my love.”

Fuck was the only coherent thought in Azriel’s mind as he followed you into the bathroom. 

If you kept this up, the shadowsinger wouldn’t be able to hold out for very long. He never could with you and judging by the smirk on your face, you were more than aware of this fact.

The sound of running water echoed through the spacious room as he sauntered across the cold tile floors. You pressed a hand against his solid chest and flashed him a wicked grin. 

“It’s your turn to get naked.” 

Cauldron fucking boil him. It was pathetic how much your words affected your mate. The front of his pants tightened uncomfortably as you peeled his suit jacket off. It was a shame, really. Azriel looked so damned good in the elegant all black suit that it was almost a waste to undress him. Almost. 

You took your time admiring your mate. Ran your fingers through those soft, raven locks. Traced the outline of his nose, cheekbones, jaw. Swiped your thumb across those perfect, pouty lips that slightly parted to kiss your fingertips. This beautiful male. Your beautiful mate. All yours, forever. 

You sighed in appreciation. “You’re so fucking pretty, Az.”

Despite himself, Azriel blushed. You almost giggled at the sight. The feared spymaster of the Night Court bested by a compliment. It was extremely endearing and so Azriel to become this flustered even though you were merely stating a fact. Your mate was a dream and you were one lucky female. 

Luckier still, because you were only getting started.

His breath hitched as your nimble fingers unlooped the tie around his neck. Azriel tried his best to stay still as you unbuttoned his perfectly fitted silk shirt, delicately shrugging it off his shoulders. You took your time unfastening the clasps at his back that were especially made to accommodate his wings. When he was finally shirtless, you ran your hands through his chest, tracing every mark and mole and scar, pressing kisses along the way that made the shadowsinger sigh softly. 

Azriel was barely breathing as you unbuckled his belt, making a show of slowly sliding his trousers over his long legs, repeating your movements from earlier and kissing his hips, his thighs, and his knees. You smirked as you tugged at his boxers next, toying with the waistband as you licked a stripe through his perfectly sculpted abs. Those taut muscles flexed against your mouth and you wickedly flicked your tongue, causing Azriel to shudder above you. 

“Baby,” Azriel breathed, his voice full of lust and desire. “If you keep doing that, this little game of yours will be finished before it’s started.”

You chuckled and the sound traveled straight to Azriel’s already painfully hard cock. “That would be a shame, wouldn’t it?” The sight of you kneeling before him with your soft, wet mouth mere inches away from where he wanted you made the shadowsinger growl. His proud length stood at attention between you while you licked your lips, further dragging out his torment. “I think I want to take my time playing with my mate.”

Before he could register your movements, you rose from the ground and kissed his cheek. Azriel could do nothing but watch as you peeled off your robe and bared yourself to him. Every curve and mole and freckle on your beautiful body formed constellations that rivaled the night sky. You were his mate—breathtaking and beautiful and made just for him. 

Mate, his shadows whispered. 

Mine, Azriel thought in agreement.

Just when he thought you couldn’t get any more stunning, you flashed him a devious grin as you playfully cocked your head to the side. He watched with bated breath as you climbed into the marble tub.

“Are you coming or not, Az?” 

The shadowsinger nearly sprinted to the warm bath awaiting him. He eased into the water, the fragrance of the soap and herbs you haphazardly threw in instantly relaxing his aching body. You beckoned him over and he waded into your lap, his back pressing against your breasts as his wings relaxed at his side. Azriel sighed in satisfaction as you kissed his shoulder, kneading the tension out of his muscles with your delicate fingers. 

He was putty in your hands, melting at your touch as his head dropped against your shoulder. You kissed his cheek next and continued massaging his back, squirting soap into a small loofah and gently cleaning your mate. Azriel murmured softly as you lathered shampoo into his soft hair and worked it into his scalp. He practically purred as you raked the product through. 

“You like that, baby?” you teased, brushing the bubbles out of those stunning hazel eyes. His irises were blown out and hazy like two pools of delicious, golden honey. 

“Feels good,” Azriel babbled. His shadows snaked through your ankles, pulling you taut against his back. 

You groaned as your sensitive peaks brushed against his golden brown skin, already feeling the wetness gushing between your thighs. Azriel kissed your knee before turning around and pulling you into his lap. Water sloshed to the side of the tub, but you couldn’t give less of a fuck. Not when your mate was staring at you like you were good enough to eat. 

The shadowsinger gripped your hips as he brushed his lips against the hollow of your throat. You could feel his smirk embedded onto your skin as you twined your finger through his hair. The tension between you was heady and potent, so heavy that it clouded your senses until Azriel consumed your entire being. 

You traced his bottom lip with your thumb, taking in this beautiful male before you. “Do you want to know what I’ve been thinking about all night, Azriel?” 

“Tell me, my love.” 

Azriel hissed as you shuffled in his lap, your sopping wet sex grinding against his hardness. “I thought about these lips,” you murmured, dipping down to press your lips against his. The kiss was heated and full of need, your tongue dancing against his as you swallowed Azriel’s growls of pleasure. 

“I thought about this neck. Just begging to be kissed,” you taunted, littering sloppy, open-mouthed kisses along the hollow of his throat. The shadowsinger grabbed your hips and his grip on you was hard enough to bruise. You only smiled. You’d wear the marks of his fingertips on your skin like a trophy. 

Your mate’s eyes were nearly black as you grabbed his hand and intertwined your fingers. “I thought about these hands. Wrapping around my throat. Palming my tits. Burying deep inside my pussy.” 

Azriel took a sharp intake of breath as you braced one hand against his chest while the other trailed down his torso. He was so turned on that he couldn’t even manage to form words lest he ruin the buildup of all this teasing and taunting. Your mate loved when you toyed with him like this. You may look like a sweet angel, but he knew firsthand how fucking filthy you could get. How easily you had him wrapped around his finger to the point that he’d crawl on his hands and knees for a chance to taste you.

When your delicate fingers wrapped around his cock, he nearly fucking lost it. “But mostly, I thought about your perfect cock. Stuffing me full. Hitting that sweet spot. Making me scream until I’m hoarse.” 

“Fuck,” Azriel groaned as you lined him up at your entrance. His eyes rolled to the back of his head as you eased his cock between your folds. Your hips lowered, taking him inch by delicious inch. “That’s it, princess. Take what you want. You can have all of it. All of me.”

At his beckoning, you lowered your hips until he was fully seated inside of you. The sensation was heavenly and had the both of you gasping for air. Slowly but surely, you moved up and down and let Azriel fill you up again and again. The shadowsinger guided your hips while you grinded into him, meeting each movement with thrusts of his own. You moaned, gasping into his neck and scratching at his back as you picked up the pace. You moved in perfect sync with the ease of two lovers who had perfectly committed each other’s bodies to memory. 

“I wish I could have you inside of me all the time. It feels so fucking good, Az," you groaned, raking your nails over his golden brown skin. Azriel’s intricate tattoos flexed underneath your touch as he rutted into you, hitting that sweet spot that made stars explode behind your closed lids.

“You’re absolutely filthy, baby.” Azriel snarled into your neck. “Such a sweet innocent face, but you turn into such a dirty little slut every time I have my cock in you, don’t you?” 

"Can't help it," you breathed, rolling your hips. "Not when you fuck me this good. It's all I can ever think about. You're all I can ever think about, Azriel."

The shadowsinger latched his lips onto your nipple, making you arch your back with every flick of his tongue. He ravaged your breasts, palming them in his large hands as he continued swirling over your hardened peaks with his mouth. 

“Do you even know how much I think about you?” Azriel hummed as you rode his cock. He watched as your tits bounced from the movement, burying his face in the valley of your breasts while you took what you wanted from him. “You consume every part of me, princess. I think about kissing you. Tasting you. Fucking you. Making love to you.” He emphasized the latter with a sharp thrust, making you whimper. “There isn’t a single second of my day that I’m not constantly craving you.”

He sucked at your collarbone, nipping and sucking as you lifted your hips. Azriel cupped your ass, watching his cock disappear between your folds. You felt so warm and tight, hugging him just right. A purely predatory growl ripped through his chest as you teased him, lifting your hips higher and higher until only his tip remained sheathed in your sex. 

“Show me, baby.” You whispered into his ear. “Show me that you want me just as badly as I want you.”

In one swift move, Azriel was stepping out of the marble tub while carrying you in his arms. You squealed as water dripped all over the bathroom floor. “What are you doing, Az?”

And that smile. Gods, it felt like watching golden rays of sunlight spearing through the dawn and kissing every part of you with its warmth. 

Azriel was so fucking beautiful. 

He leaned down, kissing the tip of your nose with a cheeky grin. “If you want me to show you how much I want you, then I’m taking my time baby. We’re doing this right. On the bed. Me and you.”

Indeed your mate gently deposited you onto the large four poster bed, the mattress feeling soft and firm underneath you as you and Azriel dripped water all over the cotton sheets. He paid no mind to it as he hovered over you, pressing his wet, glistening, sculpted by the gods body against yours. 

Azriel kissed you gently and took his time worshipping every inch of your body. He kissed, nipped, and sucked hot trails all over your neck, throat, breasts, thighs, knees, and ankles. Your mate made sure to litter your skin with his marks and bites until every surface was thoroughly covered. 

He circled back and settled against you, his lips brushing the shell of your pointed ear. “You’re mine, baby. My beautiful mate. You belong to me and I belong to you.” 

You caressed his cheek and pressed your lips against his. Azriel deepened the kiss and it felt like the two of you were trying to crawl into each other’s skin. He hiked your leg up, kissing the side of your knee before he slid inside you once more. You groaned as you adjusted to the deep angle and Azriel swallowed the sound, intertwining your fingers above your head. His shadows kept your wrists in place as your mate kissed your closed lids. 

You opened your eyes to find his loving gaze staring back. Azriel bared himself to you and sent a burst of his love and affection down the bond. Warmth and light and joy spread through that special connection and you kissed your mate again, smiling as you reciprocated that love right back to him. 

Azriel’s soft breath was warm on your cheek as he rolled his hips, dropping his forehead down to yours as he made love to you. While sex with Azriel was always enjoyable, whether it was rough and kinky or quick and punishing, this type of sex was your favorite. When the two of you set aside the whips and chains and wicked games just to simply enjoy one another. 

Being this vulnerable with Azriel was so deeply intimate and you loved it. Loved him. This kind, caring, patient, sweet, sarcastic, and perfect mate of yours. 

“I love you,” you said in between kisses. “My mate.”

“I love you,” he whispered, repeating the words again and again against your lips. 

His strokes were slow and deliberate, drawing out your pleasure with every thrust of his hips. Azriel made good on his promise to do this right. His shadows released their hold on your wrists and he intertwined your fingers, relishing the way that you wrapped your legs around his waist to take in more of him. Your mate could feel you clenching around him, signaling the approach of your release. Azriel picked up the pace and brought you closer to your orgasm. Your eyelids fluttered close, his name echoing through the walls as you cried out in pleasure. 

“Gods, Az. Right there, baby. I’m so close.” 

The shadowsinger rubbed his thumb against your clit as his shadows played with your sensitive peaks. It wasn’t long before you were clawing at his back and gasping as he hit a particularly sensitive spot within your walls. He could tell by the way that you were writhing that release would claim you soon.

Azriel kissed your temple. “Let go, princess. I’ve got you.”

The tension in your lower abdomen snapped as your orgasm peaked. Your walls clenched around Azriel’s cock as you came. He kept stroking until he couldn’t hold out anymore. He thrust three more times before his own release approached and then he was cumming inside of you, grunting as your pussy milked him dry. The sensation was all too familiar and pleasing, satisfying that innate need to have your mate finishing inside of you. 

You and Azriel fell into a blissful, euphoric heap of sweaty bodies and tangled limbs. Your mate gently pulled out of you, careful not to disturb your sensitive sex before pulling you flush against him. The rapid beating of his heart echoed through your own chest as though you and Azriel were one and the same. His wing wrapped protectively around you and a warm, fuzzy feeling blossomed deep within you.

Home, you thought.

A few minutes passed as you two came down from the high, your cheek resting against Azriel’s solid chest as he stroked your back. The comfortable silence was broken up by the sound of dripping water. Your mate’s gaze landed on the trail of clothes you’d left in the bathroom, which were now in danger of getting wet by all the water gathered at the edge of the marble tub. 

Your lips kicked up into a knowing smile. “You’re dying to clean up, aren’t you?” 

Out of the two of you, Azriel had always been the clean and organized one to the point where it was almost obsessive. You faintly recalled teasing him about color coding his socks and underwear during your first few years of being a mated couple. Post coitus pleasure aside, you knew the mess had to be killing him inside. 

Azriel smiled sheepishly, which only made you chuckle. “Go for it, baby. I know you won’t be able to turn in for the night until you return everything to its rightful place,” you kissed his shoulder and playfully nipped at his skin. “My only request is that you do so naked. I like a good view.”

Your mate grinned. “My devious little mate.” Azriel gently pried himself out of bed, kissing the top of your head and indeed providing you with the best view in Prythian. "Your wish is my command."

You sighed dreamily as you blatantly ogled your mate’s backside. As Azriel turned around to shoot you a cheeky little wink, there was only one thought floating through your blissed out mind.

You were one lucky fucking female.

tagged: @viradeity @moony-thoughts @i-opened-the-chamber-of-secrets @demirunner @swansworth @heart-defendor @momlo @mali22 @roselensage @searchingford@nessianxgwynriel@azriels-angels@brekkershadowsinger@morelovemorepeacemoretattoo-blog @mattte-black @marina468 @lillithathecathecat @highladyofillyria

let me know if you want to be added to the taglist 🦋

#i’m surprised it took me this long to get inspired by a zayn song #i was a huge 1D stan #azriel fic #azriel fanfic #azriel x reader #azriel x you #azriel #azriel acotar #azriel fanfiction #azriel fluff #azriel shadowsinger #azriel spymaster #azriel/reader #azriel smut

[avalynlestrange]

Speak Now

Draco Malfoy x Reader

Reader: she/her pronouns

Warnings: I didn’t proof read this. Let me know if there are any mistakes or if there are other warnings I should add.

Category: Post-Hogwarts, ex to lovers, wedding interruption, songfic, one-shot, angst?, fluff?

Summary: In which you rudely barge in on a white veil occasion.

No Sneak Peak 😋

Author’s Note: I’ve been feeling uninspired and unwell recently but I’m back 💞 This is my entry to week 2 of @hpcottagecorefest

Word Count: <2k

To The Library (fics masterlist)

To The Kitchen (WIPs)

To More Draco Malfoy fics

To Speak Now Anthology

You are not the kind of girl who should be rudely barging in on a white veil occasion. Yet here you are dressed in formal attire, sitting at the seventh to the front bench of the great hall of the Malfoy manor. You had to come to see groom and Draco was not the kind of boy who should be marrying the wrong girl. You would be lying if you said you weren’t taken aback at the news of his engagement to one Astoria Greengrass a few months ago but it had pained you to hear it; especially through the mouth of an acquaintance.

He didn’t even have the nerve to say it to you. Then again why would he? You had been broken up for nearly year. But everybody knew you would get back together.

Well, everybody thought you would.

You always did. It was the norm for your relationship. Sure, this was the longest you’ve been apart but he somehow dated and proposed to Astoria within that 10 months.

You scoff at that thought. Must be their families doing. That’s probably why you didn’t get an invitation.

So you did what you had to in order to get into the event. You snuck in and see your friends and her snotty little family all dressed in pastel. There were different entrances to Malfoy Manor. You knew them like the back of your hand. Days and nights were spent here, running around playing hide and seek that lead to romantic encounters in nooks and crannies. No one truly checks who enters the servant quarters and those working this event, luckily, did not know who you were or were too busy to care.

You are sitting next to Blaise, who said he would say that he brought you as his plus one. If any one asked. Pansy said she truly would have brought you, if not for her being a bridesmaid. She had known the Greengrass sisters since she was born but was only told she was part of the entourage a week prior.

It’s not like you didn’t know the sisters yourself. You were close with Daphne during your school years and met Astoria when you visited Daphne’s home during the summer after first year and she was not as carefree as her older sister, even as a nine year old.

“She’s probably yelling at a bridesmaid somewhere.” You whisper to Blaise.

“Yeah, Pansy texted me earlier that Astoria’s gown is shaped like a pastry.” He snickers as he shows you the picture Pansy had sent him. You feign a laugh. Astoria looked gorgeous in the photo.

But this is surely not what Draco thought it would be. After the second wizarding war he vowed not to be caught up in his parent’s views and expectations ever again. It had nearly gotten him killed. You recall the nights you comforted him in your arms as he sobbed and scrubbed the mark on his forearm. How you missed wrapping your arms around him and being wrapped by his.

A cough snaps you out of your daydream. You look up and see Daphne with her furrowed eyebrows.

“You can’t be here.” She gestures for you to stand up. “My mom has seen you and told Astoria. So you have to-”

“She’s my date.” Blaise interrupts.

“And you know bloody well that this would happen.” Daphne ushers you and you follow her to the back of the hall.

“Look as much as I was rooting for you and Draco, I have to side with my sister. You need to go.” She hears her name being called and rushes to them.

Once Daphne is no longer in sight, you sneak back into the far back left side of the hall where long curtains drape. This was your last chance to stop this all. You couldn’t try to stop the engagement, but you can definitely try and prevent the union. It wasn’t a choice you made so lightly. Many sleepless nights nearer the date and you had made your mind up.

You couldn’t lose Draco. You had gone through so much together. There was so much love still there. No matter how many times you broke up and made up. You were meant to be. You know he knows it. So you hide behind the curtains.

The organ starts to play a song that sounds like a death march. In between the two curtains, you peak at the start of the ceremony. Out comes Gardenia Greengrass in mint green. She never did like you when you met. She and Narcissa had been close childhood friends who dreamt of their children being wed and uniting the families. However, when Draco mentioned that you were his girlfriend during fifth year, their hopes were shattered and they were not warm towards you.

You sneak out of the curtains and sit at the back bench. The hall is filled with familiar faces but luckily the person next to you was too watching the ceremony to notice you.

As the wedding processional order proceeds to the grandparents, fond gestures are exchanged.

Then he walks through the door.

They say time stops when you’re in love. They are right. The intense feeling you have as you see him in his white suit and mint pocket square, his platinum blond locks in low fade cut, and his ice grey eyes wandering the hall sent butterflies to your stomach.

But they are heavy. It’s all wrong. This isn’t how you imagined seeing him down an aisle. Your stomach drops at the weight of it all.

You and Draco often talked about how your wedding would be. Which colour palette to use, which flowers, which venue and you see nothing of his preferences in what is all around you.

Draco stands at the altar awaiting his bride.

The music changes.

Astoria floats down the aisle like a pageant queen. You look to Draco and back to his bride. The butterflies are dancing around in your stomach and you are feeling a little nauseous.

But you know he wishes it you.

Doesn’t he?

Draco fixes his tie and looks around the room. He squints as he pats down his blazer. You know all his tells. By the way he fidgets with his family ring. He’s nervous. He takes a sharp inhale when he realises that Astoria is in front of him. She takes his hands in hers. A part of you breaks when you see him smile as he looks into her eyes.

You pay no mind to the words until you hear the preacher say, “Speak now or forever hold your peace.”

There’s a silence. There’s your last chance. You stand up with shaking hands.

All eyes on you.

Horrified looks from everyone in the room but you’re only looking at Draco.

He drops Astoria’s hands and faces you fully. You walk to aisle. Astoria’s mother stands up, but you start to speak.

“I’m sorry… Actually, I’m not sorry at all. Draco don't say a single vow. Don’t say yes.”

Your eyes are on his. Gasps from the people around you echoes in the hall.

“Let’s just run away now.” You continue. “I'll meet you when you're out of the Manor, at the back door.”

Your legs feel like they are going to give up on you when silence ensues. Draco is still standing at the altar. Hushed whispers follows. He opens his mouth as if to say something but he shuts it as quickly. He looks back and forth from you to Astoria. He looks back to you and says nothing.

That’s when you lose all the hopes you had. He really must be in this for love and not for his parents sake. You bite your lower lip and pick at the skin.

You don’t say another word and you walk out the manor. The metallic taste of blood seeps onto your tongue as you hold back the sobs that threaten to creep out. And as soon as you are out the grand entrance you drop to sit on the cold steps. All the what ifs crawl all over you as you wait on whether he will follow you out. You shiver.

Time is dragging. It feels like an eternity.

So you run. As fast as your shoes can take you. To the meadows nearby. It’s not the summer memories that flood your mind. No. Not the picnics amidst the flowers where you now sit. But the missed opportunities.

You should have told him you wanted him back sooner. You should have said something before they even got engaged. You should have never gone to this event. How stupid of you.

The scent of the pastel blue and baby pink flowers linger in the air. He used to pick them for you and placed them in your hair. The compliments he would shower you as you adorn them. Now they are tainted with the memories of them being in the decorations of their wedding. They must have been here together.

You grab a fist full of flowers in your hands and pluck them forcefully, chucking it with all the strength you can muster.

You hear your name being gently called. It didn’t register as a voice from someone near you. You’ve heard it so many times before. Draco did often visit you in dreams.

He places himself next to you.

“What? Come to tell me the good news in person? I must be so special.” You pick at the flowers once more. He doesn’t speak for the longest time. The breeze cooling down your heated cheeks. Shouldn’t he be at the reception?

“Remember when I first brought you here? You were so nervous about telling my parents about us.”

“Of course! Narcissa already hated me since you lot blamed me for breaking her favourite vase.” You remark.

The decision of sharing a bottle of fire whiskey stolen from the cabinets and pretending to be studying at the manor library seemed like a good idea then.

“It wasn’t my idea! Goyle just said it to protect me. Crabbe just went along-“

“Plus she was already furious when she heard that you dated girls that wasn’t a Greengrass. Bet she’s happy now.” You scoff.

“She actually loved you.” He confesses. “Every time I visited home without you she made me bring you your favourite dish.”

“That’s why we always had a bunch of them in the fridge when you got back.”

“Where did you think they came from?”

“I don’t know! I thought you bought it somewhere. You never mentioned they came from your mom!”

“I did! The first time when I went after New Years cause you had work.”

“I don’t remember that was ages ago!”

He laughs and offers you flower crown he had made.

“I’ve missed this.”

“What? Us bickering?”

“Yeah and just you in general.”

You frown at him and ask, “Why are you here? Should you be back at the party?”

He props down the offering in between you then looks to the horizon.

“I didn’t say my vows.” He pauses to see your reaction. However, when you didn’t respond he carries on.

“My father was the one who arranged all of this. After all these years and he still has an influence on me. Which is why I’m so glad you were around when they said, ‘Speak Now’. Ever since we broke up, I’ve been a mess.

“I keep going to my fireplace to floo to you and when I finally did you had moved out of our place. Figured you’d moved on. Broke more vases. It drove me crazy when you never came to any social events. I’ve missed you so much. You’re the one I love.”

He motions his open palm to you and says, “Shall we run away now?”

#hpcottagecorefest2023 #Draco malfoy x reader #Draco malfoy x you #draco malfoy fic #draco malfoy imagine #inspired by a taylor swift song #avalynlestrangewrites #Draco malfoy fluff #Draco malfoy angst #draco malfoy imagines #draco malfoy fanfiction #draco malfoy fanfic #Draco malfoy #speak now taylor’s version #speak now tv #wizarding world fandom

[thefreakandthehair]

@eddiemonth prompt, oct 25th:  Songwriting | Snuff - Slipknot | Melancholy a/n: established steddie, angst resolved quickly with fluff. excerpt and new outtake from over the hills and far away! I think it makes sense without reading the whole thing, but it is my favorite thing I've ever written so feel free to read the whole thing if you feel so inclined ✨ read on ao3 + masterpost | tumblr masterlist

October 1987

Eddie’s pen runs out of ink and he chucks it across the room, clattering off the walls with a loud clang before falling to the ground. Everything he writes is wrong because everything he writes is Steve, or Hawkins, or Chrissy, or some other version of his past that cuts him too close to the bone. 

Chicago has been good to him over the past year— his apprenticeship turns into a job, his apartment isn’t a total shithole, he’s met decent people, he’s even forced himself on a couple of (albeit dead-end) dates— so there’s no reason that he should be sitting on the floor of his living room with pages and pages torn out of this notebook because they aren't right. But there he is. 

Crumpled up pieces of paper surround his outstretched legs, and his joint is almost kicked, and his beer has been warm for almost an hour. Slayer plays at a low volume in the background and while he knows that’s now how it’s meant to be played, he really doesn’t want to deal with another noise complaint. Eddie lets his head lean backwards over the couch cushions and shifts to sit up straighter, his back now pressed against the front of the thrifted piece. 

Hands in his hair, like always. It’s a tell he’s noticed about himself and he wonders briefly if he’s done this his entire life, if he’s been so obvious with his discomfort in the company of others? 

Maybe that’s why— 

He cuts the thought off at the pass and brings his fists down to the floor before grabbing his shitty warm beer from the coffee table and pressing it to his lips. Warm beer is better than no beer, he thinks, at least when being tormented by my own stupid brain. It hits the back of his throat and he cringes. 

Moments pass and he looks back down at the notebook, a fresh page full of potential, possibility, future. His hands search the drawer of a side table within reach and come up with a new pen. The plastic nearly cuts his lip as he pulls the cap off between his teeth and spits it somewhere to his left, bringing one shaky hand to the page.

The next song will be happy. I promise.

April 1990

Eddie sits alone in his apartment– their apartment, now– with his legs outstretched in front of him and his back against the cushions of the couch. It’s as though he’s gone back in time as he sits in a familiar position, the same notebook gifted to him by Steve all of those years ago open in his lap with the pen sitting in the middle of the pages. The last entry stares up at him, his own handwriting pressed deep into the pages. 

The next song will be happy. I promise. 

He hasn’t put pen to page in this notebook in years but life is strange and time is a flat circle. Somehow, he’s ended up right back in Steve’s arms except that this time, they aren’t broken. This time, they aren’t terrified. This time, it works. 

So for months now, Eddie’s poured over the pages of this notebook and agonized over verses and choruses, bridges and metaphors. All of his thoughts are wrapped in writing this song, the one he’d promised Steve without him even knowing.

A song he hopes can convey what he’s feeling without making a true and complete ass of himself. 

A song he’s probably never going to finish because his brain feels like cotton and his thoughts are too jumbled to become words, a ball of yarn wound too tight. 

A song he wants to finally play for Steve.

It’s hard to fit four years of love, and longing, and brokenness, and rebuilding into just a series of four verses– one for each year– but he’s trying. He’s trying because Steve deserves it, and because Eddie needs it. So much time has already passed, and if he has to go one more day without telling Steve exactly how he feels, how he’s always felt, he’s going to implode in upon himself. 

Three deep breaths, and he picks up his pen. 

September 1990

Eddie plays Steve his song. 

Later that night, cleaned up and comfortable, Eddie whips out his guitar. Steve hadn’t thought to question why he brought it– it just felt like an Eddie thing to do. But then he takes out the little notebook Steve gifted him so long ago, right here in the same living room, and Steve hazily puts two and two together. 

The next song will be happy, I promise. And it is. 

“You wrote me a song?” Steve says, incredulous and warm from the inside out. 

“I did. Tried to, at least. Hold your excitement until it’s done and then we can decide if you want to claim it for yours.” Eddie teases and winks, pulling the guitar up into his lap. 

He strums methodically as Steve watches his ringed fingers glide along the strings. Eddie’s voice sings words from his heart, torn free of their cages after so many years.

War made us corpses,  Let’s rise from the shallow graves, let’s watch the way time warps. Hold these broken bones until they’re healed,  Hold them when they shake.  Sometimes it’s hard  To let you see me cracked and scarred.  Moonlight through the curtains and music on the stereo,  Just tell me all you say is true. Love is a three letter word, sweetheart, and it’s you. 

There are no words Steve can muster to respond, but he cries, and that says more than words ever could anyways.

[read the full fic here on ao3!]

#steddie #steddie fic #steddie fanfic #steddie fanfiction #eddie munson #steve harrington #eddie month #stranger things #stranger things fic #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fanfiction #myblurbs #eddie month prompts #over the hills and far away #song lyrics may or may not have been inspired by a song an ex wrote for me

[whatpistachio]

I wrote this fic after I saw the ✨spectacular✨ art of @mayskalih 💜 (check out her Blue spirit x Painted lady fan art!!)

My imagination jumped and… there it is:

🧵 Labyrinth of Night Secrets 🌌

Summary: After several assaults and fighting side by side for years, that night something will change the secret deal between the Painted Lady and the Blue Spirit, marking them in body and soul. That night will awaken something they had always kept silent.

So, let the moon rise and the spirits begin to live in the forest, until dawn.

Couple: zutara/ Blue spirit x Painted lady

Language: English

Words: 3,009

One Shot

Tag: Post-Canon, Post-War, Ambassador Katara, tension!!

They are in their 20s

Taylor Swift song: Labyrinth

Thanks to the zutara renaissance! 🥹 💜

Hope u enjoy it! ✨

Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/54428260

#zutara #zutara fandom #zutara fic #firelord zuko #ambassador katara #the blue spirit #the painted lady #the blue spirit and the Painted lady #zuko #katara #atla #natla #avatar: the last airbender #canon divergence #zuko x katara #atla fan fiction #zutara fanfiction #zutara icon #wow #i did a thing #ops i did it again #labyrinth #taylor swift songs #Taylor Swift Labyrinth #inspired by tarzan too lol

[burningblake]

all the gold and the guns in the world (couldn't get you off) ↳ by burningblake

Summary:

She snort-giggles. Because it's the only response she can summon. "I'm not kissing you for a case." "What, no feelings of gratitude left for the knight that saved your life?" --- Jane and Lisbon go undercover as a couple to take down the leader of a drug cartel. Set in early s2, canon up to 2x06.

Read: AO3 | FFnet

Excerpt:

"Of all the goddamned restaurants," Minelli swears, rapping his fist against the dark wooden surface of his desk. It's Monday morning, and he hasn't had coffee yet—Lisbon can tell by the dark pouches under his eyes—so those are already two reasons for him to be cranky. And now this…

She sits on the edge of the couch, her arms criss-crossed, staring at the beams of sunlight permeating through the shuttered windows, and deliberately avoiding eye contact with the man lounging on the opposite end of the sofa. Jane maintains a much more relaxed posture than her, typically, looking directly at their boss.

"Why so grumpy?" he asks. "You have a direct informant for a criminal you've long sought to catch. Isn't that what you law enforcement folks call an advantage?"

Lisbon rolls her eyes, while Minelli takes a long, exaggerated breath to calm himself, refusing to face the speaker and instead addressing her with forced composure.

"Lisbon, can you please explain to this man—this menace to society, this absolute horror of a specimen, this—this… I don't even know what to call him—"

"Bolting-hutch of beastliness? Swollen parcel of dropsies?" Jane helpfully offers, the words amusing him as he proffers them.

"Shut up," Lisbon huffs, her voice a mere stir of the air, half-turning her head towards him.

"What, it's Shakespeare," he murmurs back.

She shakes her head.

"Tell him," Minelli continues, albeit with a hard stare on the consultant, "that him getting caught on camera casually chatting up a renowned drug lord hours before they find his car packed up with four kilos of heroin is the opposite of an advantage. In fact, it's the kind of thing that could get us all permanently unemployed. Do you have any idea what resources I had to pull to convince the FBI that you were on a secretly-authorized mission from the bureau?"

Jane shrugs. "Honestly, I had no idea he was under the FBI's radar. It's impressive, actually—if they are that focused on him, I wonder why they haven't caught him so far."

"That's not for you to question! What you should be worried about is ending up in prison— again. "

"But you just said—"

"Sir," Lisbon cuts him off before he can make it any worse, "I sincerely apologize on behalf of the both of us. I should have known—"

The older man glares at her. "Yes, I was getting to you, Lisbon. How could you have allowed this? What were the two of you doing at the restaurant of one of Vegas' most notorious casinos in the first place?"

"Sir, we'd just finished the Barnes case - the one with the double murder victim? It was a long drive home and I falsely thought to let him pick the dinner place. I take full responsibility for this—I told him who Vincent Garpow was, misjudging his ability to restrain himself from baiting a cartel boss."

The rest of the team had taken a flight home, but Jane had stayed with her while she finished up with the bureaucratic ends of the case, claiming he had nothing else to do. Lately she doesn't think much of him hovering around, whether he's spending time at the couch in her office, or taking the hour-long road trips with her. She finds comfort in his presence and the long silences they often share. More than she'd like to admit. Especially when he gets on her nerves.

"Meh," he jeers, then prods his chin towards Minelli. "How long has the FBI been monitoring Garpow's crew? Five years? This is the first time there's an actual plan to catch him."

Lisbon snaps her head towards him, feeling like she's had enough of his arrogance. "You offering to transfer product for a major trafficker is not a plan. What were you thinking?"

It's imperceptible, but he settles down a little under her gaze, that rare earnestness of his shining through momentarily. He opens his mouth to speak, lifting his finger, but it is Minelli's voice that comes instead.

"Well, whatever it was, congratulations, you've officially appointed yourself to this case," he announces.

Lisbon turns to him, arching an eyebrow, a prickle of worry pinching her stomach. "Sir?"

"You heard me, Lisbon. Jane interfered with official federal business. His options are prison, or, your team cooperates with the FBI to finish what he started."

"But he's a civilian. He doesn't have proper training," she argues.

"That is why you'll be joining him," Minelli announces, and her heart sinks into her stomach as she realizes where this is going. "You were together in that restaurant, were you not? Well, both of you will be meeting with Garpow's crew, acting undercover as a couple."

***

She rushes down the hall to her office, aware of Jane falling into step behind her. She wants to turn around and shout at him to quit following her, which would be in line with her usual attitude towards him, except right now she doesn't trust her reasons. Or the steadiness of her voice for that matter. It's just an assignment, just another case, she chants to herself again and again. Even though it feels as though Minelli reached into her innermost thoughts and orchestrated the ideal plot to expose them. Expose what? she questions herself. She doesn't have feelings for her consultant. This is just her shy juvenile instincts and catholic training acting out.

She reaches her door then, and on an impulse, slams it to his face as she steps through. The last thing she needs is to have all that emotional jumble inside her exposed to his very perceptive eyes. Thankfully, she does have quite a valid reason not to want to talk to him, considering he once again failed to communicate.

"Lisbon, come on," he pleads. The mere sound of his voice sends swarms of bees up her arms and spine. Get it together, girl. This is so silly. So not her. No, she cannot face him. Not until she's reined in all the insanity, until she's made sense of her own overreaction, and until she has safely concealed most of it.

"Go away," she orders, surprised to hear the firmness in her own voice.

She sits at her desk and runs a hand through her hair. Opens her bottom drawer to take a glimpse of the expensive amber liquid tucked neatly inside, before she slides the drawer shut again.

"What did you do?" Cho's voice comes from outside her door. That almost completely mortifies her. So, naturally, it is what brings her back. Like water evaporates when it boils, her body has an odd reaction to the presence of high-strung emotions. As if the mere taste of experiencing that kind of lack of control sets off an immune mechanism, oozing calm and numbness into her veins instead. It always came in handy when she had to control situations with her dad and brothers.

"Uh, I made business with a drug dealer," Jane admits.

A bit and then, "How much 'd they pay you?" Cho asks.

"Nothing, I haven't delivered the product yet."

The other man exhales. "So you made them angry."

"Yeah, not my fault. FBI got in the way," Jane defends.

"So you made them angry and suspicious."

"I ... "

Lisbon finally opens the door, interrupting whatever the consultant was attempting to say. Both of them turn to look at her, Cho with the ever restful expression on his features, and Jane with apologetic, albeit inquisitive eyes. She averts her gaze, still fearing what he might read in it.

"Cho, have Van Pelt look into Vincent Garpow's operations. You and Rigsby go meet with FBI Special Agent Haffner to share his intel on the drug cartel's history."

"You've got it, boss," Cho replies, swiftly turning on his heel. She prepares to face Jane then, but Bosco suddenly appears where Cho stood, his thick eyebrows raised in concern.

"Teresa, am I hearing right? You're back on the Garpow case?"

Instead of answering, she side-eyes Jane, wishing that Bosco would have kept his mouth shut. But a look at the consultant tells her that it wouldn't have mattered anyway. Because of course he already knows that she has a history with the particular crime boss. Like he knows so many other things.

"Yes, Sam. That's right," she answers.

"Well, be careful." He hesitates. "If you need anything..."

"I know," she reassures him, the edge of a smile on her lips. Bosco nods and walks away.

Silence settles over the threshold of her office. She sighs, and finally indulges the consultant with her attention, neatly wrapped into a glare and a retreat to her desk. Jane follows her inside, until they both smooth into the power dynamics they're accustomed with—her sitting in her chair, him standing in front of her workspace, humbled and ready to make amends.

"Lisbon, listen—" he starts, but she's the least bit willing to let him drive this conversation. Not to mention how her stomach clenches at the sight of the seriousness in his eyes.

"When were you planning on telling me?" she demands.

He gives her a long, quiet stare. "Not telling you was kind of the entire point," he says, and then without sharing any more information, waits for her to understand the implication behind his words. Which Lisbon does, with a shock that rises from her blood to consume her entirely.

"You wanted the FBI to catch you," she utters. "So that I would get the case."

He holds her gaze steadily. "You were visibly upset to see him at the restaurant, and from the way you spoke about him, I could tell that you had dealt with him in the past. He left a sore spot for you—my guess is that it was a victim's father, or mother—yes, the latter—that you failed to give closure to, because they pulled the case from you too soon."

She shakes her head in disbelief. "So you manipulated Garpow and the FBI to give it back to me?"

Jane glances sideways. "Pretty much, yeah."

"There's a million ways that could have gone wrong!"

"Um, but it didn't," he points out.

"If this is some kind of leverage to get me to convince Bosco to return the Red John case to you—"

"You can do that?" he wonders.

"No!"

He taps a finger on his lips, muttering to himself, "Yes, I figured. Your unique influence on him can only reach so far."

"Jane," she says in all seriousness. He lifts his eyes to hers, an intimate kind of silence falling over them. Something sparks in her chest, but she ignores it. "I need you to quit acting like this is your usual walk in the park. Crime syndicates like this are dangerous business. One wrong look, and they could have your head blasted in a blink. Do you understand?"

"Yes, I'm sorry about that. I didn't expect Minelli to make this an official undercover mission, much less assign us on it. I mean, the delivery date is long past, the slingers are going to be asking questions now. We'd better work on getting our act together."

She blinks, leaning back in her chair. "What do you mean 'get our act together'?" She tries for a light tone, but her blush must ruin the effect.

If he's noticed it—which he most certainly has—Jane shows no sign of it.

"Well, we need to get the cop out of you, first and foremost," he explains, then pauses with a frown. "I don't suppose you own a mini black leather skirt?"

Lisbon's mouth gapes open, her memory brushing over that one less than decent outfit she wore at college once, knowing it will no longer fit her. Regardless, it's not the point right now. Her wardrobe should be none of his concern. And what does he mean by that phrasing? She's not that much of a prude. Not that she gives a damn about what he thinks of her or doesn't.

"Yes, we'll have to do some shopping," Jane continues unperturbed, before she can let out any of her protests. The way he says it, like an answer to her thoughts, sets off an alarm in her. Reminds her that her mind is never safe around him.

She smiles sweetly, raising her defenses. "I can handle my own wardrobe, thanks."

A bizarre image flashes through her head—her parading in a slew of skimpy outfits, while he lounges at the back of a boutique store, assuming the role of her critic. She crosses her legs under the desk, quickly hiding her eyes from view.

"Alright." Jane is quiet for a moment. So quiet she's forced to look up again.

"There's of course also the matter of us selling like a real couple."

It's instinctive, how she summons up her defenses, giving him an elaborate frown. "What? Like the thugs are going to be interested in whether we know each other's favorite color and birthday dates?"

Her mocking tone leaves him unaffected. "We both already possess that kind of information," he says, and suddenly she remembers him looking her in the eyes one dusky afternoon and telling her his favorite color is green. "What I mean is of a more practical nature." She stares at him. He cannot be suggesting what she thinks he's suggesting. And then he adds, "Like intimacy", clearing all doubt.

Heat travels up her body, her skin feeling all clammy and burned-up. Just a case, just an assignment. The chant echoes across her head, pulled like a lifeline for her deteriorating sanity.

She doesn't have feelings for him. He's not even her type. Emotional stability is her type. Except in moments like this, when it's like her own brain betrays her, filling her with this untethered kind of attraction. Moments that she catches herself flirting with the idea of irrationality.

She snort-giggles. Because it's the only response she can summon. "I'm not kissing you for a case."

"What, no feelings of gratitude left for the knight that saved your life?"

She grabs a crumpled piece of paper from her desk and tosses it at him, relief washing through her. Good. He's back to joking.

"I'll feel gratitude when you stop mingling with dangerous mobsters."

"Fair enough. I'll keep you to your word," he quips, the idea of a grin shaping across his face as he ambles out of her office.

It's only several seconds after he's left that she realizes the double implication in his statement. And she's thankful for it, for at least he's not present to witness her turning scarlet all over.

#the mentalist #fanfiction #jisbon #jane x lisbon #i'm finally able to publish this #well the 1st part at least #title is inspired from the metric song ofc - britt if you see this i am forever grateful that you introduced this song into my life #guess what other ship the plot is inspired from lol #i went extra and made a cover for this because why not

[meikostan]

#made this lovingly because i love it when this happens. like in music videos where they have so many background characters and they gotta #include everyone like omg the gang is all here!! #weirdly inspired by me listening to popipo and then reflecting on when i still frequently read [specifically vocaloid] fanfiction #loved it when fics used someone as a background character and described them only with their hair color and prop and i would feel so smart #for guessing them right like yes the blue hair man with a scarf is kaito!! #as well as if they were based on a version of themself from a particular song #ok i will shut up now this is getting a little too 'back in my day' for me #vocaloid

[nocturnalfei]

song: 𝖄𝖔𝖚𝖗 𝕷𝖎𝖕𝖘 - 𝕸𝖆𝖗𝖎𝖆𝖓 𝕳𝖎𝖑𝖑 🫦

Yeonjun x afab!reader // 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘥 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘵: 1.2𝘬

𝓎𝑜𝓊𝓇 𝓁𝒾𝓅𝓈, 𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓎 𝑔𝑜𝓉 𝓂𝑒 𝑔𝑜𝒾𝓃𝑔 ✦ 𝒽𝑒𝒶𝓇𝓉 𝒻𝓁𝒾𝓅𝓈, 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝑔𝑜𝓉 𝓂𝑒 𝒻𝓁𝑜𝒶𝓉𝒾𝓃

‼️ ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: smut, oral (f!receiving), mentions of drug use (weed), dirty talk, use of the word slut once

©𝗻𝗼𝗰𝘁𝘂𝗿𝗻𝗮𝗹𝗳𝗲𝗶 <𝟯 𝗮𝗹𝗹 𝗿𝗶𝗴𝗵𝘁𝘀 𝗿𝗲𝘀𝗲𝗿𝘃𝗲𝗱. 𝗱𝗼 𝗻𝗼𝘁 𝗰𝗼𝗽𝘆 𝗼𝗿 𝗿𝗲𝗽𝗼𝘀𝘁 𝗮𝗻𝘆 𝗼𝗳 𝗺𝘆 𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗸𝘀 𝗼𝗻 𝗮𝗻𝘆 𝗽𝗹𝗮𝘁𝗳𝗼𝗿𝗺. 𝗱𝗼 𝗻𝗼𝘁 𝗰𝗹𝗮𝗶𝗺 𝗺𝘆 𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗸𝘀 𝗮𝘀 𝘆𝗼𝘂𝗿 𝗼𝘄𝗻.

“You're staring.”

Your boyfriend’s voice broke you from your stupor and, realizing you were staring at his lips, you quickly fixed your gaze. “No I wasn’t!”

Your boyfriend’s voice broke you from your stupor and, realizing you were staring at his lips, you quickly fixed your gaze. “No I wasn’t!”

Yeonjun giggled. “Damn, I had some good shit, huh?”

You playfully rolled your eyes at him. He had invited you over to his dorm to smoke and play video games, but that second part of the plan was long forgotten after the blunt was finished. Now, you two were laying across his bed, completely stoned and just enjoying each other’s company. Yeonjun had put on some chill r&b playlist of his and it was definitely helping you to relax.

Yeonjun shifted closer to you, but you quickly rolled over to face away from him. You could almost feel the competitive fire igniting in him, heating up the air around the two of you, exciting you as well. You felt his strong arms wrap around you, pulling you into him until your back was against his chest. His soft lips met the shell of your ear, sending a shiver through you. “You wanna tell me what you were staring at?” His voice was low and sultry, and you knew he knew exactly what you were staring at, but he loved playing with you.

After a moment of your silence, he turned you to face him, just to be met with you sticking your tongue out at him. Yeonjun chuckled lowly, his eyes locked onto yours. He was intimidating in the most exciting way. “I wasn’t staring!” You stubbornly insisted.

Instead of replying, Yeonjun stared you down. What was he thinking abo-oh.

His tongue darted out over his lips to wet them, the movement breaking your eyes away and onto his plump, pillowy lips. He smirked and your gaze returned to his. Your breathing grew heavier as his eyes darkened. Fuck, he had you now. “Like what you see?” He pursed his lips and you giggled, trying to ignore the wetness growing between your legs. Maybe you still had a chance.

You crawled on top of him, pinning him to the bed. You knew damn well this man was strong enough to break free if he wanted, but he seemed to be allowing you to take your turn with him. You brought your face closer, stopping so your lips were mere centimeters away from his own. Yeonjun’s eyes were red, lids low, an intensity in his gaze as he waited to see what you would do. Your boyfriend was already hot as hell, but when you two were high? He was irresistible.

Your confidence wavered for a moment and he noticed, taking the opportunity to lean forward and kiss you hard. Your high made you way more sensitive and a small whimper left your throat as he wrapped his arms around you. Yeonjun smiled against your mouth before swiping his tongue over your bottom lip. You immediately opened your mouth, letting him completely take over the kiss.

His tongue explored your mouth, one hand supporting the back of your head while the other groped your curves. The air around you too only grew hotter. You knew you lost the game, but you definitely didn’t mind now.

Yeonjun’s ego was fed, a sexy cockiness taking over him as he dragged his tongue against your own and felt your body giving in to him. He rolled you over, pinning you to the bed beneath him. You chased his lips as he broke the kiss, but he turned his head to trail kisses from your jaw to your ear. “If you wanted to feel my lips on you, Babygirl,” he purred as he took your earlobe between his teeth and tugged, “all you had to do was ask.”

He leaned down as if to kiss you again, but pulled away when you tried to meet his lips. You whined out, eyes staring up at him wide and pleading. Your desperation was amusing him. To make things more humiliating, he pulled back far enough to take in your whole face, admiring your glossy eyes and heated cheeks. As he pinned your arms above your head, you had nowhere to hide, forced to fully face his intimidating gaze. “Fuck,” you whispered. “Please?”

“What was that, Darling?” He teased, tilting his ear closer to you. “I couldn’t quite hear you.”

He was going to be the death of you. “Yeonjun, please! I need your lips on me, please.” Your begging paid off, fueling the blazing fire in his eyes, and he planted a firm kiss to your lips before traveling down your body. You squeaked as he nearly ripped your sweatpants off, jolting as the cold air met your core.

“Fuck, Y/n, no underwear?” Yeonjun groaned before gripping your thighs with his strong hands and pulling your center closer to his face. He spread your legs wide, massaging your thighs and admiring your slick folds. You shivered as his breath fanned over your core, your eyes meeting his burning, black ones. “My pretty little slut, so dirty for me. Lemme show you what my lips can do, Baby.”

You watched Yeonjun lean down and kiss your clit lightly before beginning to viciously make out with your pussy. Your body reactively tried to rise to meet his mouth, but his arms held your hips firm against the mattress. Cries of pleasure left your lips as his tongue explored your folds, coming up to flick your clit hard before licking down over your hole and back up. He was driving you mad with pleasure, the weed not helping to keep you grounded. He devoured you like a man starved. You cried out as he sucked on your clit, your own voice sounding foreign to you. “Fuck, Yeonjun!” You whined, unable to form the right words for what you wanted.

He slowed down, keeping your hips pinned as he lazily dragged his tongue around your hole. He remained there for a moment, the way your hole clenched with every pass of his wet muscle had him reaching a new high. He kissed your pussy lightly before pulling away just enough to make eye contact with you. “Fuck, Baby, you look so fucking beautiful like this, all spread out for me.” He growled, lips glistening with your juices. Another kiss to your lower lips. “You gonna cum all over my tongue, hm? Gonna make a pretty mess on my pretty lips?”

You whined desperately, too worked up to produce a proper response. And of course, Yeonjun noticed.

“You’re so cute when you’re high, it just makes me want to ruin you even more.” He lowered his lips until they were just above your folds, eyes remaining locked on yours. “Use my mouth, Baby. I want to feel you cum around my tongue.” At that, he poked his tongue around your hole before shoving it inside you. He released his grip on your thighs, allowing you to grind against his tongue as he fucked it in and out of you. His fingers pinched your clit and you suddenly came hard. He lapped at your folds, letting you ride out your orgasm, licking up every last drop of you until you began to whine from overstimulation.

You pushed his head up and admired his blown out eyes and wet lips. “Jesus, you’re something else, Choi Yeonjun,” you huffed, pulling his face towards yours, kissing him deeply. You moaned as you tasted yourself on his lips. After a moment, you pulled back slightly. “My turn to show you what my mouth can do.” He smiled wide and quickly yanked off his pants. The night was just beginning.

#yeonjun hard hours #yeonjun smut #yeonjun x reader #song-inspired one shots #yawnzzn420 #txt fanfic #txt smut #choi yeonjun #yeonjun #txt fanfiction #txt oneshots #yeonjun oneshot #nocturnalfei #𝘤𝘩𝘰𝘪 𝘺𝘦𝘰𝘯𝘫𝘶𝘯 ♥︎

[hazyspiderwebs]

You’re not alone

“Hello?” JJ answered basically still asleep. Until he heard your sniffles. “He cheated on me JJ.” JJ was suddenly wide awake and seeing red. He never liked your now ex boyfriend and he would tell anyone that would listen.

As the two of you grew up together JJ not liking ANY of your boyfriends was one of the common themes. So much so that he started joking that you had the worst taste in guys. And your ex was somewhat proving that true.

JJ made it to your place in record time. You were surprised to hear he rang the doorbell. As you answered the door you understood why. The sight of JJ balancing candy and chips and drinks on his arms and somehow fitting an already open bag of his favorite candy between his teeth and none falling out was quite entertaining. “My candy man.” You greeted amused. JJ rolled his eyes and fake pouted at your lame joke before setting everything down on the counter.

JJ finally got a good look at you and his heart broke for you. As much as he joked about you having bad taste. A part of him always hoped you would turn to him. He shook the thought out of his head for the time being. You’re going through a breakup now is not the time for him to be feeling sorry for himself he reasons in his mind.

He snatched whatever candy you had out of your hand and took a bite for himself. When you have him a look he just shrugged “I gotta make sure it’s not poisoned or anything.” He finished that one and grabbed another one “for good measure you know. And good news they’re not poisoned!” “Or they are poisoned but it’s a long lasting poison and we die together.” You counter back.

JJ was somewhat taken aback by your response “mm well you got me there. But what a way to go out.” That was one of the things you loved about JJ if you had said that to anyone else they would’ve wondered about your mental state. But with JJ you could pretty much say anything to him and not feel judged. “If you could choose how would you wanna go out?” You asked intrigued while taking a chip out of his hand. He absentmindedly shifted the chip bag to where you could both share it as he thought of his response. “Hmm in a cool way like a human rocket launcher or something like that. What about you?” “I don’t know. I just want it to be peaceful.” JJ rolled his eyes.

The night continued on with you and JJ asking each other questions and your typical shenanigans. As the sun started to come up you and JJ were starting to fall asleep. JJ suddenly got serious “Y/N you know you’re never alone right? I’ll always be here for you no matter what.”

“Thanks ba- JJ.” You corrected yourself in shock. JJ obviously picked up on what you were about to call him. “Do you wanna go out together sometime?” JJ’s question caught both of you by surprise. “I’d love to JJ.” You responded happily.

#was a Btr song the inspiration for this? yes yes it was #outer banks #outer banks fic #outer banks imagine #jj maybank #jj maybank drabble #jj maybank fanfiction #jj maybank obx #jj maybank outer banks #jj maybank x reader #jj x reader #jj #jj x you #jj x y/n #outer banks fanfiction #outer banks fluff #outer banks blurb #outer banks one shot #jj outer banks #obx fic #obx fanfiction #obx imagine #obx x reader #obx #jj obx #jj fanfiction #jj fic #jj maybank imagine #jj maybank one shot #jj maybank fluff

[hoomandoescosplay]

Anyone Else Isn’t You | Jegulus Oneshot

Anyone Else Isn’t You

#fanfic #fanfiction #romance #light angst #angst #jegulus #harry potter #marauders era #marauders #band au #alternate universe #singer James Potter #songwriter Regulus Black #remus lupin #sirius black #remus x sirius #james potter x regulus black #oneshot fanfiction #oneshot fic #oneshot #cross posted on ao3 #cross posted on wattpad #hoizer #too sweet hozier #song inspired #hogwarts school of witchcraft and wizardry #hogwarts au

[evanpeterswhoresblog]

i need to know which one you guys will actually read lol lmk !!

#fanfiction #regulus black smut #regulus black #regulus deserved better #regulus and evan and barty #regulus black is hot #marauders smut #marauders fanfiction #marauders fandom #marauders era #marauders #sirius black #slytherin #i love smut #smutty #inspired by arctic monkey song 😻 #smut #remus lupin #james potter #evan rosier #barty crouch jr

[leiawritesstories]

Stick Season (Part 1)

Rowaelin Month 2023, Day 1: Song Fic

inspired by "Stick Season" by Noah Kahan (giggles in Frederick) I've had so much fun writing this and I am beyond excited to share it with all of you! happy Rowaelin Month once again! <3

Word count: 2,480

Warnings: swearing, bad decisions, heartbreak, not-great parenting, angst, simmering sexual tension, pining idiots in love but they won't admit it

Enjoyyyy! (yes there will be more, i promise)

@rowaelinscourt

Prologue

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

Downtown Orynth, Vermont, still looked exactly the same as it always did when Aelin paid her occasional, brief visit to her hometown. Same “cozy” wooden buildings, same storefronts lining Main Street, same pine boughs wrapped around the light posts, same dusting of snow brushed across the rooftops in a postcard-picture kind of perfection. Same kindhearted shopowners waving at her as she strolled down the cleanly swept sidewalk. 

If she smiled hard enough, maybe she could pretend there wasn’t a gaping hole in her heart. 

Three years since she cut the other half of her soul out of her life, and no amount of friendship and laughter and girls’ nights could fill the empty chasm that leaving Rowan left in her. 

“Aelin?” The voice came from her left as she passed the local bookstore, a place where she’d spent some of the happiest hours of her youth. 

She turned. “Philippa!” A genuine smile curved up her lips. “I didn’t think you were still working here all the time.” 

Philippa waved off the mild protest with a flippant hand. “You know how busy it gets at this time of year, my dear.” She pulled Aelin into a warm hug. “It’s so good to see you again!” 

Aelin melted into the older woman’s motherly embrace. “Want to know a secret?” 

“Is that even a question?” Philippa laughed, opening the bookstore door and nudging her inside. “I live to collect secrets.” 

“Of course you do,” Aelin chuckled. “Well, here it is: I wasn’t planning to be back home this year. Or next year. Or anytime soon, really.” She blew out a short, sharp sigh. “I’m only here because…well…” She trailed off, not fully ready to voice the reason she’d returned. 

Philippa patted her arm. “It’s alright to let yourself grieve, dear. Your mother’s passing was a shock to all of us.” 

“And something of a relief,” Aelin mumbled under her breath. 

Ever tactful, Philippa pretended not to hear. “Will you be here through New Year’s?” she asked, smoothly changing the somber subject. 

Aelin nodded. “Yes. I’ll drive back to New York sometime around January fifteenth, unless Dad needs me for longer. I’m working remotely until then.” 

“Thank goodness for modern technology, right?” 

“Right.” She half-grinned. “I don’t suppose you’re still resisting that modern nonsense, hmm?” 

Philippa pretended to hide. “You caught me.” 

Aelin fake-groaned. “How many times have I told you that it will help the bookstore grow? Think of all the customers you could reach with something as simple as a website and maybe an Instagram profile!” Pasion seeped into her words, coloring her thoughts with excitement. “And you could easily keep up with the online orders–that crappy old monitor you have barely runs basic word programming, let alone internet.” 

“You be nice to Mort, now,” Philippa teased. She’d named the bookstore’s ancient computer Mort in honor of the many times it had brushed with death. 

“Mort deserves to be laid to rest once and for all,” Aelin laughed. “Are you trying to keep me in town or something, asking when I’m heading home?” 

“Maybe.” The older woman’s laugh lines crinkled as she grinned. “Or maybe I’m just planning to offer you a job here while you’re in town.” 

“You know I work in publishing, right?” Aelin raised her brows. “I’m pretty sure that’s enough books and book stuff for one woman.” 

“How long has it been since you remembered why you work in publishing in the first place?” 

The question made Aelin stop in her tracks, mind whirling as she sifted through years of memories. “I…years. God, it’s been…years.” For a moment, yearning flickered across her face. “Maybe not since the last time I volunteered here at Christmas.” 

“Exactly.” Philippa gave Aelin’s hand a motherly squeeze. “Christmas season is far too busy for one old woman to handle alone. So…will you help me?” 

A fond smile curved Aelin’s lips. “Of course I will.” 

~

Snow-dusted evergreen boughs adorned the lampposts of downtown Orynth, weaving their crisp pine breezes through the early evening air. Hands tucked into the pockets of his quilted flannel jacket, Rowan strolled down Main Street, determined to avoid being sidetracked into one of the golden-lit shops that smelled invitingly of cedar, maple sugar, pine, and spiced cider. Christmas scents always had been his weakness, despite the pain he couldn’t separate from the holiday. 

A single paper bag dangled from his left wrist, the only sign that he’d been out shopping for the holidays. His entire brood of cousins was about to descend upon Doranelle, the next town over, for the next few weeks, so he’d come into Orynth to pick up a few things. He refused to admit that the massive canister of peppermint hot cocoa mix was an impulse buy–it had been on sale, and he knew how much his relatives adored all the sweet holiday treats. 

It had nothing whatsoever to do with peppermint hot chocolate being Aelin’s favorite. Nothing.

“Whitethorn?” The call came from his left. 

Rowan turned towards the voice. “Who–” 

“Whitethorn! It is you!” Aedion Ashryver stepped out of Staghorns Tavern, a popular local brewery. “Come inside, man, have a drink.” He pulled Rowan into a brief, back-slapping hug. “Good to see you again.” 

“Good to see you too, Ashryver.” Rowan returned the hug but hesitated at the offer of a drink. “I dunno about the drink, though.” He raised his shopping bag. “Gotta go home and prepare the place for the Whitethorn horde.” 

Aedion snickered. “You’re still letting them crash at your place, huh? Thought you would’ve liked the house to yourself every once in a while.” 

Rowan shrugged. “It’s a big house, and I live alone all the rest of the year.” He flashed Aedion a smirk. “Besides, Sellene and Enda would just barge in anyways, so I might as well allow it.” 

“Fair enough.” Aedion glanced into the brewery, waving off someone inside. “You sure you don’t want to grab a quick drink? I feel like we haven’t seen each other in forever.” 

“Yeah, give me a rain check on the…” Rowan trailed off into silence, his brain stalling at the sight of Aelin Galathynius opening Stag’s door and grabbing her cousin by the arm, halfway through a teasing jibe about Aedion wasting his body heat trying to warm up the December chill. 

“...not worth it to–oh.” Her wide-eyed turquoise gaze slammed into Rowan with all the force of an avalanche. 

“What are you doing here?” The question, though whispered, tore out of him with the force of a deafening scream. 

Aedion brushed a protective touch over Aelin’s shoulder, murmured something softly into her ear, and slipped back into the brewery, wisely leaving the two of them alone. 

She swallowed thickly and steeled her spine, meeting his stare head-on. “I’m home for my mother’s funeral and the holidays.” Her tone was cool, detached, nothing more than an old acquaintance responding to a casual question. 

“I–I had no idea,” Rowan murmured. “I’m so sorry, Aelin.” 

“Don’t be.” She snorted quietly, her shields snapping back into place as swiftly as they’d fallen. “About Evalin, Rowan. Don’t be sorry.” A pause, a crack in her controlled exterior. “I can’t say I am.” Her expression sharpened. “Can I ask what you’re doing out here…um, by Staghorns?” 

He read the unspoken question, finding himself surprised that she hadn’t asked outright. “I was in Orynth to pick up a few things before my cousins get here tomorrow, and I was heading down towards the parking lot.” Downtown Orynth was strictly car-free, so the town had built parking space by the edge of the no-traffic zone. “Your cousin saw me, so I stopped for a bit.” And held off the alcohol, he added, silently. 

She nodded in understanding. “I…I should go.” She turned. 

“Wait!” Unexpectedly, he reached for her hand, stopping himself with bare millimeters between his skin and hers. “I…when are you leaving?” 

“After New Year’s.” The words were clipped. 

The shields encasing his heart slammed back down with finality. “So you’ll just up and leave again, no warning, not telling anyone?” He laughed, a sound as brittle as the winter air. “I don’t know why I expected any different.” 

“Some things never change,” she whispered, half to herself, her voice teetering dangerously close to anguish. Without another word, without a backward glance, she yanked open the brewery door, walked in, and vanished into the crowd packed into the bustling space. 

His heart a tangle of stormy emotions, Rowan turned on his heel and strode down the rest of the street, not stopping until he reached his pickup. There, he dropped his shopping bag in the back seat, leaned himself against the truck’s battered old green frame, and breathed as deeply as he could. Eyes screwed shut, he allowed the flood of memories to wash over him, sinking into the aching familiarity of her golden hair and wild laugh, her burning resilience and unwavering strength. The watery croak of her voice when she told him she was sorry three years ago. The tsunami of anger and rage and grief and torment that had ripped through his whole being for weeks after that afternoon.

Then he locked those precious, shattered memories back into the dark recesses of his mind, swung himself up into the truck, and drove off into the December night. 

~

Three Years Ago

Rowan pulled into his driveway in shell-shocked silence, muscle memory guiding him out of his truck and into the house. He kicked off his boots in the mudroom, shook the loose snow off the soles, and placed them neatly on the rack. Numbly, he shed his thick winter jacket and hung it on its peg, made sure he was free of tray snow and ice, and walked into the warmth of the wood-paneled house. 

A beer bottle shattered at his feet the second he came through the door. 

“The hell y’been, boy?” His stepfather’s slurred words were barely distinguishable. 

“Work, then the store.” Rowan had learned years ago to keep his words as brief and subdued as possible, lest he face another of Arobynn’s famous eruptions of drunken wrath. “Picked up another six-pack.” He placed the case of beer bottles on the kitchen counter. 

Arobynn squinted at the six-pack. “Leas’ y’did one thing right,” he sneered. “Clean up the fuckin’ floor, boy.” He grabbed two bottles of beer and stumbled back out into the living room, where he collapsed into his reeking, tattered old leather recliner and lost himself in his usual world of alcohol and blaring television. 

Rowan clenched his fists and jaw and picked up the broom. He made quick work of the broken glass, dumped it in the trash bin, put away the broom, and grabbed some food as he hurried off to his room. Arobynn’s alcoholism was a blessing, in a way–he confined himself to that side of the house, not moving much between the den, the kitchen, and his bedroom and bathroom. It meant that Rowan could stay in the master bedroom, which was at the other end of the house, and keep the rest of his family home as clean as possible. 

Every time he looked at the single portrait of his parents that adorned his bedroom wall, he swore he could hear their sorrow at the state of their once-beautiful home. 

That goddamn crash had taken so much from the Whitethorn family. 

Rowan was only a child when he lost his dad, and his mother had been so buried in her grief that she’d failed to see the giant blaring red flags of the first man that showed her any affection. She’d married Arobynn Hamel partially out of what she thought was love and partially out of necessity; the property needed another pair of adult hands to maintain it, not to mention another income. It was only a few months before Arobynn’s true colors showed themselves. 

For five years, Rowan’s mother had stayed strong, protecting her son by sacrificing herself. She’d protected her son from his stepfather’s fits of drunken rage, from the anger that reverberated through the house, and even from the knowledge of her medical diagnosis. When he lost her, too, Rowan lost all hope that his life could be anything but alcohol and anger and abuse. 

Then he went away to college and met Aelin, and her warmth rekindled his frozen soul. 

Watching her drive away from him mere hours ago had ripped the fragile, carefully patched scraps of his heart into bleeding shreds. 

Fuck it. If he didn’t blow off some steam now, he’d do something he’d regret later.

As silently as possible, Rowan slipped out of the house, crossed the snowy yard to the barn, hauled open the door that desperately needed some oil, and flicked on the overhead lights, illuminating the large, chilly, wooden-beamed space. He’d slowly transformed the barn into a gym over the years, picking up old equipment at estate sales and local gyms who were remodeling or getting rid of old machines and other stuff. Right then, he only had eyes for the punching bag–his favorite way to release the pent-up anger his fists itched to rain down upon Arobynn’s worthless face. 

He took off his jacket and sweatshirt, pulled on his well-loved boxing gloves, and strode over to the punching bag. With a grunt, he launched into a punishing round of strikes and punches, pummeling the taut leather sandbag with enough force to send it rocking on its chain. That first volley loosened the knot of tension in his chest, opening the floodgates, and every tangled, indecipherable, raw emotion he’d bottled up came pouring out in the erratic rhythm of his gloved fists (and occasionally his shoes) against the punching bag, interspersed with hoarse yells, broken shouts, curses, groans, and grunts. He lost himself in the slap of leather on leather, barely remembering to draw breath, slapping and punching and kicking until the flood of grief and pain and rage had subsided enough for his head to clear. 

Chest heaving, rare tears seeping hot and salty down his face, Rowan sank to the weathered wooden plank floor, buried his head in his hands, and felt the crushing weight of abandonment, an old familiar companion, press down upon his shoulders once again. 

Although he didn’t know it, Aelin was curled in the same position on the floor of her childhood bedroom, her face buried in her hands, tears streaming unchecked down her cheeks. The same anguish tore through her ruined heart, a white-hot knife of grief and guilt piercing her to her core. Leaving him was the last thing she ever wanted to do; it was like splitting herself in half. Yet she had left him, tossed him to the snowy curb without a backward glance. Leaving him shell-shocked on the edge of the highway, heart in his throat and the winter wind whistling through his empty hands.

~~~

TAGS:

@live-the-fangirl-life

@superspiritfestival

@thegreyj

@wordsafterhours

@elentiyawhitethorn

@morganofthewildfire

@backtobl4ck

@rowanaelinn

@house-of-galathynius

@tomtenadia

@julemmaes

@swankii-art-teacher

@charlizeed

@booknerdproblems

@chronicchthonic14

@earthtolinds

@goddess-aelin

@sweet-but-stormy

@clea-nightingale

@autumnbabylon

@darling-im-the-queen-of-hell

@llyncooljones

@silentquartz

#my writing #stick season #aelin galathynius #rowan whitethorn #rowan x aelin #rowaelin #rowaelin au #rowaelin fanfic #rowaelin fanfiction #rowaelin modern au #based off a song #song fic #rowaelin month 2023 #rowaelinmonth2023 #stick season the fic #inspired by noah kahan ofc #rowaelin winter au #rowaelin holiday au #winter holiday au

[sgtbradfords]

Chenford + Love Confession ❤️

Lucy pulled the blue cotton sheet higher over her chest, holding the fabric there as she sat upwards on the bed. Suddenly, she felt undoubtedly exposed.

"You're leaving."

A stillness fell over the bedroom, while her thoughts ran freely. The silence was deafening, maddening, and done nothing to help the pounding sensation that was currently happening inside her head.

She found a scoff falling past her lips, an odd mixture of shame and disbelief before she pulled her mouth closed, rolling her tongue along the inside of her cheek.

It seemed as though that was all the man, who stood at the foot of her four-poster bed needed.

Hastily he tucked the grey t-shirt that had once been on her bedroom floor, back into the waistband of his jeans. Normally Lucy would have found herself staring unabashedly, but this time, it was different.

"What else did you expect?"

Last night when he eased her back on the couch, she had drunkenly hoped that something had changed, that he had changed. Even when he had whispered, 'Nothing's changed Luce.' against the curve of her neck.

She had been an idiot for ever letting him through her front door.

Humorlessly she released a laugh, removing her hand away from her chest as the sheet pooled around her waist. She gestured animatedly in front of her, "I expected us to finally talk about it!"

His ministrations faltered, his hands pausing with his black leather belt mid loop. Not once did his stare waver from her own, giving her every bit of the non-answer she needed. They were never going to talk about it, certainly not now anyways.

Lucy turned her head towards the window, ignoring the pain that was spreading like a wildfire inside her chest. She could see that dawn was rapidly approaching outside, the early morning light casting her room in a paleness that matched the mood inside the room.

"You lost the right to show up here and fuck me when you broke up with me, Tim."

Had her stare been turned towards the man in question, she would have seen him flinch.

"That's not-"

"Then what was it?" Bitterly she laughed with the turn of her head. "What was last night? This morning? A drunken mistake? A lapse in judgement? Why did you even come here?"

Silently she pleaded for the tears that were welling in her eyes to hold off for just a minute longer.

Tim done nothing more than gape at her, his mouth wordlessly opening and closing as her words rendering him speechless, tilting his world a little further off its axis.

"Did you mean it?" Her voice was low, roughened with traces of sleep and the weight of holding back a dam of emotions from cascading over the top.

Her question brought him out of his stupor.

He tried hiding the shift of weight from one foot to the other. He tried hardening, schooling his features into one that hid his emotions. He tried containing the clenching of his jaw and the flexing of his hands.

He may have tried, but he undoubtedly failed.

"Mean what?"

"What you told me last night."

She blinked once, a rogue tear sliding down the slope of her cheek but she never made the motion to swipe it away.

The look Tim had been projecting, fell away within the blink of an eye. It was once again every bit of an answer, but she needed to hear him say it again.

"Of course I do, Lucy." His voice was as soft as the look he was giving her, soft yet firm. Almost as though he would vehemently deny ever being told otherwise. "I'll always love you."

"But?" She whispered, bringing her knees up to her chest as he moved around to what had long since been her side of the bed.

Lucy knew what he was about to do when he bent at the knee, the fingers of his left hand becoming entangled in her coffee colored strands. She could have stopped him, should have stopped him. But she couldn't find it in herself to.

His lips pressed against her forehead softly, lingering for a second. Two. Five before he pulled away to look at her in earnest. His thumb swiped across her cheek as he tenderly told her to, "Get some rest."

The tears began to fall more freely as he walked out of the room, but her sobs only start after hearing the soft click that came from the front door.

Lucy thought she knew heartbreak but this... this was worse than any stab wound or gun shot. This was something that permeated itself deep into her heart, her soul, her mind, and the only cure had readily sealed their fate.

Read part 2, here!

#thanks for the ask! #anon #chenford fanfiction #chenford fanfic #chenford #em answers #not at all inspired by a song I've had on repeat the past two days #i am in an angsty mood forgive me #fanfic