#starlight's fanfic

[kibagib]

Here we go with more scenes from @starlightvld's Broken Bones and Shattered Hearts <3

CHAPTERS 4-6 / CHAPTERS 10-12

#ghostsoap #soapghost #ghoap #simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish #fanart #my art #starlight's fanfic #broken bones and shattered hearts #post canon au #fix it fic #fanfic #silly boys in love

[starlight-library]

Take a break | LS2

pairing: logan sargent x reader

summary: its launch day for williams and your boyfriend so overwhelmed and tired you decide to give him a quick pick me up

warnings: smut: oral (f & m receiving), sorta sub!logan & dom!reader, no protection (wrap your willy sillies!), praise kink, breath play (didn't intend for that one), breeding kink, basically porn with a semi plot??

a/n: uh, haven't written smut in a long time let alone f/m smut so PLEASE be gentle with me here! also i'll admit, writing scene with eating out is NOT my strong suit but i'm trying to get better! again, no proofreading, we die like men!

wc: 2.8K

Launch days were something you weren’t particularly familiar with for a multitude of reasons. The first reason was you hadn’t been a long time fan of F1 as you had recently gotten into the sport a little into the 2023 season more as something to have on in the background. The second reason is because you were so new to this world of motorsports, you had no idea what the pre-season would entail. The third reason is because the only reason you got into the world of F1 was because of your boyfriend, Logan Sargent.

You happened to be on a trip with some friends in Miami even after hearing many horror stories about how Miami usually ruins friendships. That was not you and your friends though. Instead you and your friends had made a very important note to have dedicated alone time so you all didn’t end up kill each other and it was proving to be a great key to this vacation. During your shopping, you had bumped into someone and turned around to apologize the same time Logan did. The two of you laughed and went your separate ways. You had told your friends about the encounter and how you regretted not continuing the conversation but you were too embarrassed. They reassured you that they would find this mysterious blonde man for you.

None of you had to try very hard as you and your friends decided to go to a club Sunday night after the Grand Prix and it just happened to be the same one a lot of the drivers ended up going to. You ran into Logan again, literally, and this time you actually kept the conversation going. One thing lead to another (as well as finding out he was an F1 driver and causing you to go down this rabbit hole to understand his work more) and by summer break you had been on four dates before he officially asked you to be his partner. By winter break, you were comfortable enough for him to announce the relationship and even with the mixed reviews from fans neither of you let it affect your relationship. If anything, it made your relationships stronger. It helped that Alex and Lily were super supportive and helpful the moment you two went public.

Lily especially. She had been nothing but kind and supportive the moment you two went public. She went on about how sweet Logan is and how she was ecstatic for him to finally have met someone who wanted him for him and not because he was a famous world driver. She was also over the moon to have a WAG on the team (yes she even took the time to explain what was a WAG was to you) and that she finally had someone to sit with during races and chat with during events like this.

Which is how you found yourself sorta following Lily around like a lost puppy to really grasp the rope of things before the two of you found yourself huddled together as the launch happened. It was fun. There was a kid named William outside with a sign that said ‘My name is William too!’ They actually brought him in for the launch and even had him sit in the car. You smiled seeing the kid beam at the two of them and Logan happily chatting with him when he wasn’t pulled away to be in front of the camera.

After the launch, Alex and Logan were heading down to Central Park to continue filming so you and Lily decided to have a little afternoon together. You two went shopping, had lunch, and just explored as the two of you chatted about anything and everything. You guys were stopped a bit for pictures, which was expected with Lily, but you? That surprised you but also warmed your heart and you happily took the photos. Then you two arrived at the hotel and parted ways before the meet and greet where you’d probably be off to the side with her once again just watching and interacting with fans.

You were mindlessly flipping through channels on the TV when you heard a faint whirling noise before the door was opened. Looking over you saw your boyfriend and a smile tugged to your lips. Shifting, you sit next on the edge of the bed as Logan comes padding over. The smile turns into a small frown seeing the state of him. “You okay?” You ask. He grunts in response as he stands between your legs and you rub his arms soothingly.

“Come sit,” you gently pull Logan down next to you. Immediately, the American is pulling you into his lap and burying his face into your neck. Running your fingers through his hair, you kiss his temple gentle as he grumbles about how long days like this were and how tiring they were and he wanted nothing more than to stay here. You bit your lip gentle wanting to reassure him that it would be over soon but knew he had so much more socializing to do and he was near his wits end.

Then, an idea hit you.

“Tell me more,” you comment as you wiggle out of his lap and kneel behind him to give him a massage. You feel him relax under your touch and you smile gently as you continue. It’s a nice gesture but it’s mainly a distraction. When he’s relaxed enough you pull away as he continues to ramble as you slide off the bed and move to stand between his legs. Gently pushing him on the bed Logan’s let out a small huff of a laugh as he tosses an arm over his eyes. Perfect. Stripping out of your pants and panties, you crawl onto the bed and swat his arm away. The second his arm is to his side you’re swinging a leg over, trapping his head between his thighs and sitting down.

It takes a millisecond for Logan to realize what’s going on before you groan feeling his tongue on your clit. Your hands fly to his hair for purchase as he happily runs his tongue over your clit. Long slow strokes before short kitten licks. It sends a shiver of pleasure up your body as you buck your hips forward. His hands quickly find your thighs gripping tightly as he traps you. You tilt your head back groaning loudly as you roll your hips as you two find your rhythm quickly since Logan loves being between your thighs.

You let praises fall from your lips between the moans and gasps falling from your face. It should be illegal with how good Logan is from your clit to your cunt as he opens you up with his tongue. Even though you guys haven’t been together for long he had made it his mission to learn your body inside and out. How you liked him switching between slow licks and fast licks. How your eyes rolled when he teased your clit with circles before sucking. How your hips bucked when he slipped his tongue in and slowly fucked you open. How if he tilted his head back just enough he could get deeper brushing against your g-spot, causing you to throw your head back and let out the most delicious sounds. How if he switched the routine up it drove you mad and close to your orgasm which he was very much intending to do but that’s not on your agenda.

Your chest was heaving as you felt the familiar coil starting to form in your abdomen. You force yourself to let go of his hair to wedge your fingers under his and pries his hands off your thighs before you lift yourself up. Looking down, you wish you could take a picture but a mental one will do. Logan’s hair was wild against the sheets, eyes wide and pupils blown. His face was flushed a beautiful shade of pink and his mouth and chin was shiny with your juices. His fingers twitched in your hands as he stared up at you neither one daring to move as he whines. He became such a beautiful mess so quickly for you.

“Yes?”

“I need—” he gulps slightly.

“You need what?” You tease.

His mouth opens and then closes as he tries to find the words. You know exactly what he wants and you’re tempted to give it to him, “stay,” you command as your grip on his hands loosens so you can easily move off of him and slink off the bed and onto the floor.

“Sit up,” you say while stroking the inside of his thigh and he does looking down at you. Looking up at him, you wrap your lips around the tip of his cock and he groans tipping his head back slightly. You swirl your tongue around the tip before flattening your tongue along the underside of his cock. Hallowing your cheeks, you start to bob your head. You watch his hands start to go to your hair but stop knowing better than to touch without permission so he grabs the sheets as if it’s a life line. You place your hands on his thighs to steady yourself as you continue prepping yourself. He’s babbling above you begging for more. He’s not specific with what he wants but that’s typical for him.

When you’re relaxed you happily take him down your throat, nose against his navel, and Logan throws his head back letting out a moan. Internally, you smirk at how loud he was. Usually he tried to be reserved and letting himself be focused on your pleasure but today was about him. You pull off to the tip before going straight back down and he tenses to keep himself still knuckles white from how hard he was holding onto the sheets. You continue for a bit longer before you pull off with a pop before standing.

“Lay down,” you say gesturing to the pillows and Logan scrambles laying on his back as his head hits the pillow. You wince for him since he was so close to hitting the headboard but it was a miracle he didn’t. That would’ve been one way to kill the mood and end the day for sure. Getting onto the bed, you straddle your boyfriend who’s breathing heavily from anticipation. Smirking at the mess you’ve already made of him, you grab the base of his cock and line yourself up before sliding down.

In unison you both groan as you put your hands on his chest for leverage. Once you’re bottomed out you take a moment to adjust. You start to move your hips in small circles sucking your bottom lip between your teeth as Logan turns his head to the side, groaning again.

“Babe I—”

“Shhh, I know. It’s okay,” you murmur as you run your hands over his chest, “I got you. Just lay there and let me hear all your pretty noises. Can you do that for me?”

Logan whines in response again.

“Logan.”

“Yes,” he breaths out, “Yes I—I can do that.”

“Good boy.”

Raising your hips you sink back down and tilt your head back. It’s been a while since you two have actually had time to have sex and it felt like the first time all over again. Just with how well he filled you up and it felt like a punch to the gut (pun intended…maybe). You start out with this slow rhythm hearing how Logan groaned and moaned under you whining and asking for more.

You work yourself on his cock picking up the pace as you go. You lean back, gasping at the new angle as your hands find purchase on his thighs. “Oh fuck—” you manage out between the moans. “Yes, fuck yes baby so good.” You ramble on as his head tosses to the side, hands gripping the pillows, the sheets, anything that isn’t you.

“I—fuck babe—please—” Logan gasps.

“Please what?”

“Let me touch you. Fuck. Babe. Please. Please please please,” he begs, “need to touch you. Please, shit, babe you look so good riding me, please,” He begs, “been so good for you.”

“Such a good boy,” you purr out, “okay.”

His hands fly to your hips. His eyes trained on you. How your lips are parted. The slight sweat starting to form on your forehead as your hair sticks to it. How your eyes are fluttering close.

“Let me move. Please baby,” he begs, “you’ve done so much work,” he’s rambling, “wanna make you feel good. Please let me make you feel good. God fuck babe I wanna make you feel good.”

You’re lost in your own little world as Logan rambles on. You’re so close of finding that spot and you shift to lean forward, hands back on his chest. One hand fumbles but it covers Logan’s mouth as you continue, slamming your hips down on him. Your eyes go wide and you see stars when you find it, throwing your head back as you continue. “Fuck—oh right there. Shit—” you moan out as you fall into an endless cycle of moans, groans, and cursing. You can feel Logan’s lips against your hand still moving but between your own noises and the absolutely filthy obscene noises you two were making it was drowned out.

Your body is on fire. Your legs are straining and you’re getting tired but you continue. You feel the coil forming once again and your hand drops to Logan’s throat as you wrap your hand around, squeezing slightly. He lets out a strangled gasp mostly out of shock before he moans. “You—fuck—” you breath heavily, “yes move.”

Logan did not need to be told twice. Gripping your hips tight enough that will surely leave bruises, not that you really minded, he snapped his hips up when you came down. You screamed - you’re pretty sure you did but you can’t be quiet to sure with the stars you were seeing and everything else drowning out expect Logan’s voice. He’s thanking you over and over, telling you how amazing you are and how you treat him so so well. He matches your pace and you can’t even prepare yourself as your orgasm is ripped out of you.

You grip his throat tighter and he lets out another strangled groan. Your body shakes as you continue riding him babbling about how good he’s fucking you, how pretty he is like this, how only you get to see him like this, and how only you can make him feel this good. He’s trying to speak but it’s hard and you manage to loosen your grip. He gasps for air before the words are slipping past his lips.

“Please. Oh god please let me cum. Please I’m so—I’m so fucking close. Babe. I need—” he chokes on air as tears form, “god please.”

You feel limp. You’ve slowed your own pace down but he continues with the pace. You manage an ‘yes, you can cum’ through moans and whines. It takes three more thrust before Logan’s spilling into you, head thrown back and groaning loudly as his eyes roll in the back of his head slightly. He continues to fuck you through his own orgasm before he finally comes down.

You’re both shaking slightly at this point. You force yourself to pull off of him, feeling his cum ooze out of you as you end up collapsing on top of Logan as the two of you catch your breath. Moving his hands to your hips, he gently massages them as he kisses the top of your head. You let your eyes slip close as your breathing returns to normal smiling to yourself as you listen to his heartbeat. “Better?” You ask finally breaking the comfortable silence.

“Much better. Thank you babe, I really needed that,” he says and plants a soft kiss to your hair.

“Of course. You know all you have to do is ask.”

Logan huffs a laugh out which earns an eye roll out of you. You turn your head so you can look at him and he’s smiling at you, leaning down to kiss your nose as you wiggle it. “I know,” he says, “I’m…working on it.”

“I know, and I’m proud. But with a schedule like this you have to be more keen on making sure you’re okay. Really.”

“I know. I know,” he nods as he speaks, “now come on, we gotta get cleaned up so we can go to dinner.”

“Dinner?”

“Yeah,” Logan blinks, “the meet and greet starts at six. So I thought we could grab an early dinner at a little mom and pops diner I found. Come on,” he gently sits up with you still on his chest. You squeak when he’s got his arms under your ass and shifting before you two are standing legs instinctively wrapping around his waist with a grin, “I’m paying this time.”

“You paid last time!” You argue as he laughs taking you both to the bathroom to get clean before dinner.

#starlight library presents; #logan sargeant x reader #logan sargent smut #ls2 x reader #ls2 smut #logan sargent x reader #formula 1 imagine #f1 smut #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #formula one smut #starlight library fanfics

[geminiwritten]

undercover ; billy butcher

fandom: the boys

pairing: billy x reader

summary: you have to go undercover as butcher’s wife to vought’s annual supe celebration - prompt (that i don’t remember where i saw it, i’m sorry!): “I bet you one hundred dollars that you’re hard right now.” *he stands up and drops $100 on the table*

notes: i wrote this in one day and you can tell!!! it’s so rushed, i’m so sorry, but also i’m just hot for this man and refuse to stop??? let me know what you think!

warnings: swearing, very small alcohol consumption, very light smut, and a bit of harassment from an unwelcome dude

word count: 6496

“You have a thing for Butcher?” Hughie gasps, the apartment door swinging open as he steps inside.

Annie’s eyes grow wide, her hand covering her mouth to try and hide her cheeky smile. You scowl at her before turning to Hughie, his face a comical mixture of disgust and amusement.

“What have I said about eavesdropping on movie night, Hubert?” you demand, calling him by the stupid nickname you know he hates.

He rolls his eyes, “I wasn’t eavesdropping, I texted Annie to say I was on my way home. It’s not my fault you’re practically shouting about the fact that you want to fu-”

“Hughie,” Annie giggles, “be careful.”

“Hey,” he says, turning to her, “I’m just repeating what I heard.”

You hold your face in your hands and groan, sinking back into the soft couch cushions and praying that they might open up and swallow you into a different dimension.

“I’m sorry,” Annie sighs, “I honestly just lost track of time.”

Hughie drops his keys and wallet on the kitchen bench alongside two plastic bags that wreak of cheap Chinese food. Your stomach grumbles at the smell, and you reluctantly pull yourself off the couch before dragging your feet toward the kitchen.

“So,” Hughie says with a grin, “how long has this been going on then?”

“Nothing is going on,” you state, “and it’s certainly none of your business.”

“Oh, come on, it’s not like I’m going to tell anyone,” he begins helping you unpack the bags of food, “besides, I had a sneaking suspicion. You do kind of look at him like-”

You pull a butterknife out of the draw and point it at him, “Like what?”

He freezes, his hands flying up on either side of his head in surrender.

Annie laughs again, “Okay, you two, cut it out.”

You put the knife down and retrieve three full sets of cutlery before setting a stack of bowls beside the containers of food. Hughie serves himself first before Annie fills her own bowl and you last, already shovelling mouthfuls of noodles into your mouth as you move back toward the couch.

“You know,” Hughie says between mouthfuls, “if you wanted to talk about it, I might be able to help.”

You scoff, “Yeah? How?”

He shrugs, “I don’t know, talk to him.”

“And say what?” you drop your fork into your bowl, mocking Hughie’s voice as you say, “Hey Butcher, do you think Y/N is hot, because I know she dreams about fucking you.”

He scowls at you, “I can be subtle.”

Annie giggles, hiding her face behind her bowl as Hughie casts his glare toward her.

“I appreciate your concern, Hughie,” you say, “but I think I’ll just stick to fantasising about him in the shower.”

His expression morphs into disgust as he begins choking on his mouthful of food, his face turning bright red. Annie’s laughter fills the room, and you join her while Hughie struggles to compose himself.

To your surprise, and relief, Hughie agrees to keep your little secret to himself. He doesn’t even make a stupid face the next day when the three of you arrive at the boys’ current hideout, finding MM, Frenchie, Kimiko, and the man himself huddled around the dining room table.

“Righ’ on time,” Butcher says with a grin, “let’s get to it, then.”

You knew he was excited about this next mission, if you could call it that. Everyone was, in fact, because thanks to Annie’s excellent intel, you were all attending Vought’s annual ball. A night of celebration to thank the mighty Supes for keeping the streets safe, or as Butcher liked to call it, Vought’s annual wank-fest.

“Your invitations are all sorted,” Annie says, pulling a small handful of envelopes out of her bag. “Hughie came up with all your aliases, so please stick to them, or you’ll be kicked out in a heartbeat. Security is tough at this thing, and there’ll be no talking yourselves out of a bad situation.”

She looks pointedly at Butcher, but his smirk only widens.

“Frenchie,” Hughie says, “you’re going as a member of the tech team, so you’ll be behind the scenes and keeping an eye on the cameras for anything suspicious.”

Frenchie rubs his hands together excitedly, taking the envelope from Annie and tearing it open.

“Monsieur Felipe Lavigne, senior security technician,” he announces, reading the ID card aloud.

“MM and Kimiko, you’ll be with me,” Hughie goes on, “we’ll be posing as press on behalf of the city council. There’s a huge group of council members and associates, so all we have to do is blend in.”

MM takes two envelopes and passes one to Kimiko.

Hughie turns to you, “I originally had you listed as press too, but then decided it might be smart to double down on Butcher’s alias, give him another level of cover, you know?”

You frown, tilting your head sceptically as he hands you and Butcher an envelope each.

“You’ll be attending as prospective stakeholders, invited by corporate to bask in the glory of Vought in the hopes that you’ll invest in their cause,” Hughie explains. “An affluent couple from upstate New York, recently immigrated from Britain after growing bored of your rich English lifestyle.”

You’re almost positive your brows have reached your hairline as you stare at the envelope in your hands, your trembling fingers struggling to pull the ID badge out.

“Brooklyn Williams,” you read aloud.

Annie shoots Hughie a look, promising that he would be paying for this later, and you realise that he must have made this decision in the past twelve hours without consulting her.

“William Williams,” Butcher says, frowning at Hughie, “really?”

Despite being the target of several unhappy stares, Hughie chuckles.

Frenchie snickers too, “At least you will not forget it, eh?”

“Smart move, Hughie,” MM speaks up, “Butcher is the one most likely to be caught, but with Y/N in tow, he might think twice about putting himself in danger.”

Butcher rolls his eyes, “Do none of you ‘ave any faith in me?”

Hughie, Frenchie, and MM respond in unison, “No.”

The seven of you spend the next two hours going over the details of your aliases and the agenda of the function. It’s going to be a huge event, which meant little risk of actually running into Homelander or anyone who might recognise any of you. Annie won’t be able to help on the night, being one of the spotlight attendees, but that isn’t what’s was making you nervous. You’re going to have to spend a good five hours pretending to be married to Butcher, the one man you desperately want and the one man you were trying very hard not to fall in love with.

After what feels like forever, Frenchie announces that he is going to get dinner and Annie bids you all goodbye to check in at Vought tower. Hughie sets his laptop up at the desk in the corner of the lounge room while MM excuses himself for his nightly facetime call with Janine.

Kimiko turns to you, signing a question about what you were all going to wear on the night.

“Annie helped me organise some things,” you reply, gesturing toward the suitcase by the door. “You should try it on now, and if you don’t like it we can find something else.”

You know Kimiko isn’t a fan of cocktail attire, and you definitely didn’t want her walking into the dragon’s den worrying about the way she looked or if she’d be able to fight should the need arise.

“What ‘bout me, love?” Butcher asks, his signature smirk curling the corner of his lips.

Your cheeks burn under his gaze, “You don’t get a choice, you’ll be wearing a suit.”

He chuckles, “I do love a stubborn woman, must’ve been why I married you.”

Your pulse thrums in your ears, and you fail to think of a sarcastic retort, instead turning away in the hopes that he hasn’t already noticed the bright colour in your cheeks.

Kimiko drops the case on its back with a thud, unzipping it quickly and throwing it open to pull out each of the bagged costumes. There are four suits of various styles with varying accessories, and two dresses. She stands holding the one labelled with her name, dragging the zip right down the middle and revealing the soft black fabric of her dress. It isn’t quite full length, hemmed just below the knee in a pencil skirt style and devoid of any embellishments. A simple black dress with long sleeves, fitted but flexible.

She grins, signing to you that it is perfect and thanking you for not putting her in anything ridiculous.

“We chose two pairs of shoes too,” you say, “in case you don’t want to wear the heels.”

Butcher strides toward the suitcase and picks up the last bag, but you follow him, quickly snatching it out of his hands before he can pull the zip.

“My dress can wait until the night,” you hold it behind your back for good measure, “I’m still not sure about it.”

He quirks one brow, “You’re not wearin’ latex, are ya?”

You roll your eyes before turning on your heel, taking your dress into your room and tucking it into the back of your closet. You fall back on your bed, your chest rising and falling with deep breaths as you try to calm your erratic pulse. It’s just one night, you can hold it together for one night, right?

The next two days pass in a blur of preparations and planning, and before you know it, you’re staring at the dress hanging in your closet with a towel wrapped around your body. Your hair is clean and curled, pulled into a half up do with twisted gold pins creating the illusion of diadem just below the crown of your head. You took a little longer to do your makeup than usual, out of practice in the art of winged eyeliner and false lashes, but in the end, you were proud. Now, the dress.

Your fingers are numb as you pull the zipper down, revealing the red silk material of the gown that Annie convinced you would be a good idea. You blame her for this just as much as Hughie.

“Come on, Y/N,” MM calls through your bedroom door, “we have to go.”

You sigh and throw your towel aside, hurriedly pulling the dress off its hanger. The material is cool against your skin, sliding easily over your curves and fitting your body like a tailor-made glove. You twist awkwardly to secure the zip before turning to the mirror.

The dress is floor length, a few inches of the red silk pooling at your feet, with a long slit reaching scandalously up to your left hip. The straps are about an inch thick, and the neck cowled, showcasing your breasts and the perfect amount cleavage. The silk hugs your torso, and you’re a little startled at just how good you feel in this dress.

Another knock at the door has you rushing to slip into your beige heels, and you check that your underwear are pulled high enough to not be seen in the slit of the dress before opening the door. MM’s jaw drops.

“Holy shit, Y/N.”

You blush, “Thanks.”

Being the gentleman he is, he tears his eyes away from you, offering you his arm with a cheeky grin plastered across his face.

In the lounge room, Kimiko is helping Frenchie with his tie and Hughie is struggling to secure his suspenders to his trousers. Your breath catches when your eyes land on Butcher, dressed in a classic and perfectly fitted black tux. He has even trimmed his beard and styled his hair, still a little dishevelled but holy shit, does the sight of him make your mouth water.

“Damn,” Hughie says when he sees you, “nice dress.”

“Nice suspenders.”

He chuckles, “Are we ready?”

Butcher turns to you, his jaw going slack and his eyes dark. Your chest squeezes, your lungs struggling to draw enough breath as your head spins from the lack of oxygen.

“Ready,” MM says beside you.

“Good,” Hughie tucks his ID badge into his shirt pocket, “I’ve organised two cars, one for Y/N and Butcher, and the other for the rest of us. Once we’re there, we can’t slip up, keep your masks up and don’t even look at anyone you think might recognise you.”

You check your small black clutch for your ID badge and phone.

“Earpieces are too risky tonight,” he continues, “so keep your phones on you, and if one of us is out, we all abort.”

Kimiko checks her own purse and the boys check their pockets before you all shuffle out the door. Hughie, MM, Frenchie, and Kimiko exit the building first, leaving you and Butcher alone in the lobby.

“You ready, sweethear’?” he asks, gazing at you with the same dark eyes as before.

You nod, “As I’ll ever be.”

After a minute, you exit the apartment and climb into the awaiting car. Butcher greets the driver as the car pulls away from the curb, and you take the chance to pull your phone out, typing out a quick message to Hughie.

‘I’m going to kill you.’

Your phone pings before you can put it away, and you quickly turn it to silent before reading his reply.

‘You’re welcome ;)’

A warm hand on your bare legs startles you, the heat sinking into your blood and making it sizzle through your veins.

“You sure you’re alrigh’?” Butcher asks.

“Yeah,” you mutter, “just nervous.”

His thumb rubs soft circles on your thigh, sending shockwaves of desire right to your core.

“Nothin’ to be worried ‘bout, love, I’ve got you.”

Your eyes almost roll back in your head at the sound of his deep voice. He truly does not know how much he does have you, all of you.

“Thanks, Billy,” you whisper, your voice unsteady.

His eyes don’t leave you for the duration of car ride, and your pulse refuses to settle. Anxiety and desire tangle in your stomach, twisting it into loops and winding the knot in your core even tighter than it already was.

Eventually, the car stops, and you both thank the driver before climbing out. You’re not at the main entrance of the building, but there is still a ridiculous number of security guards standing around, and barriers preventing anyone without an invitation from getting within twenty feet of the door. Butcher wraps an arm around your waist to guide you forward, his warmth shielding you from the cold night air.

“By the way,” he whispers, his lips brushing the shell of your ear, “you look fuckin’ delectable in that dress.”

Another wave of heat washes through your veins, and it takes every ounce of focus for you to not stumble up the walkway. Two security guards step forward as you both flash your ID badges.

“Mr. and Mrs. Williams,” the guard in front of Butcher says, scanning the barcodes on the badges, “welcome to Vought tower.”

The security guard in front of you is younger than the other, his blonde hair slicked back and his mouth etched into a sleazy smirk as his eyes rake up and down your body. He winks as he steps aside, and Butcher notices, his expression twisting into a scowl.

Just as you reach the doors, Butcher’s hand slips from your waist to your ass, squeezing it as he dips down and plants a hot kiss against your neck.

“Fuckin’ perve,” he mutters, before guiding you through the doors and down the corridor.

Your mouth is dry and your knees wobbly, but you move with practice and manage to appear cool and collected as you step into the huge event room. It’s extravagantly decorated with drapes of sheer fabric hanging from the high ceilings and a huge crystal chandelier in the centre. There are dozens of round tables, all set with fine silver-wear and obnoxious centrepieces made of red and white roses.

“Nice to know where all our money will be going if we decide to invest, darlin’,” Butcher says with a cheeky grin.

You giggle, letting him guide you through the clusters of elegantly dressed attendees toward where you assumed your table would be. You don’t remember ever finding out that piece of information, but you assume either Hughie or Annie told Butcher while you were still reeling about having to play ‘happy couple’ with him.

You listen carefully to snippets of conversations as you pass, waiting for anything interesting to catch your attention. Butcher stops at an empty table and pulls out a chair, you smile in thanks before taking a seat, quickly shuffling forward to avoid flashing everyone due to the ridiculously high split in your dress. Butcher notices though, chuckling to himself as he takes the chair beside you.

Before you can speak, he places a hand on your bare leg and squeezes, knocking every thought right out of your head.

You gasp, “I-It’s hot in here, is it hot in here?”

“I think that’s jus’ you, sweethear’,” he replies with a wink.

The room quickly fills with guests, conversations growing louder and drowning out the soft music playing over the speakers. Eventually, a woman takes the stage and the room falls quiet, listening to her lengthy introduction about how grateful Vought were for this night and how wonderful it is to be able to celebrate America’s finest superheroes. You can barely hear her though, your ears filled with the thrum of your pulse as Butcher’s fingers draw patterns on your leg. Your core aches, and you shift in your seat only to feel the dampness between your legs.

When the room erupts into applause, Butcher’s hand freezes, and you turn to see Homelander striding onto the stage, his hair blinding beneath the bright spotlight.

“Hey,” you whisper, placing a hand on top of Butcher’s, “you okay?”

He turns to you and his scowl relaxes, a soft smile pulling on his lips. “Yeah,” he replies, “I’m good.”

You slip your other hand beneath his, praying that he doesn’t notice how sweaty your palms are as you play with his fingers beneath the table. Although you had started in the hopes of calming him, you find your own sense of relaxation in his touch, focusing on the feeling of his skin as Homelander drawls on about Vought and The Seven.

After what feels like an eternity, he finishes his speech and the room cheers again. The woman returns to the microphone to announce the first course of food before music and conversation fills the air, and you turn your attention toward the centre of the table. Butcher grips your hand as you attempt to move it, entwining his fingers with yours and only allowing one of your hands free.

“I don’t think I’ve seen you two at one of these events before,” the woman beside you says.

She’s older but extremely elegant, with a pendant around her neck that you don’t doubt costs more money than you’ll ever get to see in your bank account.

“We’re new in town,” you reply, your voice very slightly lilted, “just moved from London’s east end, actually.”

“How charming,” she places a hand against her pendant, “I’m Lucille, and this is my husband, Jack.”

The podgy man beside her nods, his cheeks and nose bright red as he guzzles from his glass of champagne.

“Pleasure to meet you,” you say, “I’m Brooklyn, and this is my husband, William.”

You cast a glance at Butcher, only to find his eyes already locked on you, sparkling under the soft yellow lights. He has dopey smile on his lips and an emotion you can’t discern floating behind his gaze. Your stomach flips.

“You do make a charming, if you don’t mind my saying,” Lucille says.

You nod, your cheeks tingling with warmth, “Thank you.”

“So,” her husband, Jack, speaks up, his voice gruff, “what brings you here?”

You wait a beat for Butcher to reply, but he only watches you with that same expression.

“To be totally honest with you, I’m not sure,” you reply with a half-hearted laugh, “we have been thinking about investing, but I do wonder why a company of this immensity even needs investors.”

Jack chuckles, “You’ve got that right, seems greedy, doesn’t it?”

Lucille frowns at her husband before turning back to you, “We don’t do it for them, we do it for our grandkids, for their future. In the hopes that they will have a future, a safe one. This world is a nasty place.”

“You’re not wrong about that,” you sigh.

She nods, “That’s why it’s important to protect what you love, and hold on to it.”

Butcher’s hand squeezes yours, making your heart thump violently within your chest. You turn to him and meet his eyes, the fire in your veins blazing with a new intensity and heating every inch of your skin.

“I-If you’ll excuse me,” you stammer, pushing your chair back, “I need to use the bathroom.”

Butcher nods as you stand, and you can hear Lucille strike up new conversation while you weave between the tables toward the exit. Fresh air fills your lungs the moment you reach the foyer, and you pull your phone out of your bag, finding Hughie’s contact name with trembling fingers.

‘If I survive tonight, I WILL kill you.’

You hit send and turn toward the bathroom, almost stumbling when you see the same blonde security guard who had been stationed at the doors.

“Can I help you, ma’am?” he asks, his slimy smirk loading the question with innuendo.

“I’m okay,” you reply, “thank you.”

He steps forward before you can move, “You sure? You look a little flustered. Perhaps a step outside might help? It does get awfully hot in here.”

The first spark of fear rattles up your spine.

“I appreciate that, but I just need to use the restroom,” you say.

His smirk doesn’t falter, “Well, if you change your mind, let me know. I’d be more than happy to escort you. Can’t have a stunning woman such as yourself wandering the streets alone.”

You force a polite smile onto your face as you step around him and hurry down the corridor toward the bathrooms. With one subtle glance over your shoulder, you see him watching, still standing at the end of the hall looking almost predatory.

“Shit,” you whisper to yourself, turning sharply into the first stall.

You close the toilet lid and sit on top if it, holding your head in your hands and counting your breaths. After a minute of trying to wrangle your wild thoughts, you decide that Butcher is either a fantastic actor or… in love with you. Your heart aches to agree with the latter, but your brain fights for reason, reminding you that you’re in an incredibly sensitive situation and he is only acting like this to keep up the façade.

You sigh and stand up, panic piercing your chest when you remember the pushy security guard waiting for you in the foyer. You find your phone again, tapping on Butcher’s name and quickly typing out a message.

‘Don’t freak out, I’m totally fine, but I need you to come get me. Foyer.’

You count to thirty before exiting the stall and washing your hands, pleasantly surprised by your reflection in the mirror, aside from the deep red splashed across your cheeks. You walk calmly out of the bathroom and down the corridor, ignoring the spike in your pulse when you see the back of the security guard still standing there.

He turns around at the sound of your footsteps, a smirk curling his lips. “Hey gorgeous, are you-”

“There you are,” Butcher calls, striding toward you.

He wraps an arm around your waist, his hand splayed across your lower back as he presses your body against his. You don’t have time to respond before his lips capture yours. Your knees almost buckle, your hands gripping his shoulders for support as his mouth moves against yours and your mind goes completely blank.

He pulls back ever so slightly, his forehead still touching yours as he whispers, “I missed you.”

The feeling that bubbles in your chest makes your heart want to explode.

“Better get back in there,” he says, carefully releasing you.

You nod, unable to summon a single word as he looks at you like that, his pupils blown and his lips swollen from the kiss. He takes one of your hands in his and pulls you toward the doors before casting a menacing scowl over his shoulder at the security guard.

“Did he touch you?” he asks, his voice low.

You shake your head, “No.”

“Good.”

“Wait,” you tug on his hand before he can walk through the doors.

He frowns as you pull him to the side, into an alcove beneath the grand stairs that lead up to the private rooms above the event hall. He doesn’t resist when you press him against the wall, your hands on his chest and your body covering his. You look up at him through your thick lashes, and you can feel a soft groan rumble through his chest.

“I’m not sure we were convincing enough,” you whisper, before surging up and pressing your lips against his.

His hands hold the back of your head as he tilts his own to deepen the kiss, his tongue pushing past your lips and making you whimper. Your ears fill with the erratic thrum of your heart and the soft moans from the man in front of you, making you forget about everything that isn’t him. The fire rushing through your veins collects at your core, burning with need and making you clench as his hands wander down your back to cup your ass.

Time loses all meaning as you tangle your limbs with his, your body throbbing almost painfully. You have to stop yourself from clawing at his clothes, every desire within you craving to tear his suit apart and absolutely devour him.

Eventually, your lungs begin to burn, and the short gasps between kisses aren’t enough to appease them, so you pull away. His pupils are huge, consuming almost all of the colour in his eyes as he studies your face with a small smile.

“You’re so fuckin’ beautiful,” he murmurs.

You open your mouth to tell him the same when someone clears their throat, and you both snap toward the sound. Hughie is standing a few feet away, his ID badge now on a lanyard around his neck and a notebook in his hand. His face looks pained, struggling to contain what would be a hysterical laugh if you weren’t all supposed to be undercover.

You stumble back from Butcher with wide eyes, your mouth trying to form words but no sound comes out.

Butcher straightens his jacket and clears his throat, “Sorry, mate, as you were.”

Hughie takes a deep breath and turns toward the room, and you have to commend him for his self-control.

Butcher looks down at you, “D’you think that was convincing enough?”

You giggle, “Maybe a little too convincing.”

He smirks and swipes his thumb across your bottom lip, wiping at the smeared lipstick. You know you must look like a wreck, your makeup smudged and your face blotchy and red, but you don’t care.

“Better get back in there before you get me arrested for public indecency,” he says, taking your hand in his.

You laugh again as he leads you back into the room, guiding you through the throngs of people and toward your table. Lucille greets you with a smile, her eyes sparkling with mischief as she surveys your flustered state. Butcher sits and shuffles his chair closer to yours before placing a hand on your thigh, much higher than where it was before.

“It’s a wonderful thing, isn’t it?” Lucille whispers to you.

You frown, “What is?”

“That love and passion,” she replies with a grin. “He just adores you, I can tell. Don’t ever let go of what you two have, it’s rare.”

You try to hide your smile, but it’s almost impossible. “I won’t.”

You’re not sure what you’ve missed but you assume it was Annie’s speech as the chatter around you is filled mostly with her name. The woman from before returns to the stage to rave some more, though you don’t bother trying to pay attention. Butcher is watching you with hungry eyes, filling your head with filthy thoughts and absolutely soaking your panties.

“So, Mrs. Williams,” he says, his voice low, “got any plans after this?”

“Not really,” you reply, “but I do think there’s a toy in the top drawer of my dresser calling my name.”

He swallows thickly, “Is that so?”

You nod, “I’m feeling a little wound up.”

“Perhaps I could help you unwind,” he whispers, “think I’d do a better job than that fuckin’ toy.”

“That’s a bold statement, are you sure?”

His fingers dig into your thighs with enough pressure to bruise, making your whole body jolt.

“Oh, I’m fuckin’ sure.”

His hand slides up your thigh and you part your legs instinctively.

He smirks, “Good girl, so responsive.”

The burning in your core pulses, sending white hot waves of desire up your spine to cloud your mind. His fingers brush the crotch of your panties, barely a touch but enough to make you sigh softly.

“You’re soaked,” he whispers, “so ready for my c-”

Cheers erupt throughout the room, drowning out his voice and startling you out of your stupor. His hand slides back down your leg and his smirk breaks into a devilish grin when you look at him with a scowl.

“Sorry, love,” he says as he retrieves his phone from his jacket pocket.

You take a moment to collect your thoughts, drawing steady breaths and trying to focus on anything but the man beside you. He chuckles at his phone before tucking it back into his pocket.

“Was that your mistress?” you tease.

He raises his brows, “Is that jealousy I’m hearin’?”

You slide your hand up his thigh, stopping just below his crotch to squeeze.

“You tell me, do I have anything to be jealous of?”

His voice is almost a groan, “Never.”

“Good.”

You slide your hand over his crotch, relishing in the way his whole body tenses before you pull back and fold your hands in your own lap. He sighs and takes a generous gulp from his glass of champagne, grimacing at the taste before leaning toward you with an arm over the back of your chair.

“You’re a fuckin’ tease, you know that?”

You turn to him, your face barely an inch from his, “Oh, baby, you haven’t seen anything yet.”

He leans back in his chair, his jaw tense but his eyes sparkling with mischief.

“You fond of that dress?” he asks casually.

“This old thing? Nah.”

He nods once, “Good, because I’m goin’ to fuckin’ destroy it.”

The woman sitting on his other side chokes on her mouthful of champagne, casting an abhorrent glare toward the two of you before completely turning her back. You have to swallow your laughter, averting your gaze to your lap as Butcher chuckles quietly.

You feel your purse vibrate at the same time that Butcher reaches for his pocket. You pull your phone out and check the messages, finding several from Hughie.

‘We’re here to WORK, not fornicate.’

‘I just spent five minutes laughing to myself in the toilet.’

‘The shows closing soon, we should leave before the crowds. Unless you and Butcher are busy ;)’

“D’you think you can make it out of here without your knees bucklin’, love?” Butcher asks with a smirk.

You tuck your phone away and twist in your chair so that your legs are toward him, parting them slowly. The red silk slides against your skin and the split opens with your legs. Butcher’s gaze drops, his whole face turning red as his eyes grow wide.

“I bet you a hundred dollars that you’re rock hard right now,” you whisper, leaning forward.

His jaw twitches as his gaze moves to your chest, and you smirk before twisting toward Lucille.

“We’re going to duck out before the masses, but it was lovely meeting you,” you say, “and best wishes to your grandkids. They’re lucky to have such incredible grandparents.”

She smiles at you, her eyes watery, “It was lovely meeting you too, dear.”

Her husband grumbles a farewell and you smile politely at the rest of the table who you hadn’t bothered to meet before turning back to Butcher expectantly. You have to bite the inside of your cheek to keep from giggling at the way he shifts in his seat.

“Pleasure meeting you,” he nods toward Lucille and Jack.

He pushes his chair back and stands up, drawing a hand out of his pocket and dropping two fifty dollar bills onto the table before stepping back. A grin breaks across your face as you snatch the money and stand up, taking Butcher’s outstretched hand and letting him lead you out of the room. You almost stumble at the pace at which he drags you through the crowds, not stopping until you’re through the foyer, out the doors, and a good distance from the building’s entrance.

“You owe me,” he growls, yanking on your wrist so that you fall into his arms.

“Take whatever you want,” you whisper, “I’m all yours.”

Another rumble vibrates through his chest, and the knot of anticipation in your stomach twists tighter.

“Good, you’re here,” Hughie calls, his feet slapping against the pavement as he jogs toward you.

Butcher’s hold goes slack, and you take a reluctant step away from him as MM and Kimiko follow a few paces behind Hughie. The cold air nips at your bare skin, making you shiver.

“Where’s Frenchie?” MM asks.

“On his way,” Hughie replies with his phone in his hand, “and the car is close.”

You startle at the feeling of material falling around your shoulders, and glance up as Butcher steps in front of you, his arms guiding his blazer over your trembling body. You pull your bottom lip between your teeth, looking up at him through your thick lashes as his lips curl into a soft smile. He moves back to stand at your side and wraps one arm around you, pulling you against side.

Hughie’s grin is so wide you want to slap it off his face.

“Not a word,” Butcher mutters.

Hughie chuckles, “I didn’t say anything.”

MM is clearly amused, and even Kimiko is giggling when Frenchie comes jogging up behind them.

“Did I miss something?” he asks, his brows raised as he looks from Butcher to you.

“Car’s here,” Hughie announces, and you all step toward the curb.

Hughie climbs in the front seat and greets the driver before texting rapidly on his phone, no doubt messaging Annie to let her know you were all safe and heading home. Kimiko and Frenchie shuffle toward the back of the van, and MM grumbles when neither you nor Butcher volunteer to join them. He squeezes between the two of them on the backseat before Butcher helps you into the van, and you take the single seat behind the passenger as Butcher falls into the last seat behind the driver.

You shrink into his jacket, enveloping yourself in his scent and relishing the warmth that his body had left behind. His eyes don’t leave you for the duration of the trip, studying your face, lingering on your lips, and moving up and down your body over and over again.

The drive feels much longer than it should, but the car finally pulls up outside your apartment block and you all pile out. Frenchie begins rambling about pieces of information he overheard, and MM fills in some of the gaps with snippets that he picked up in the press crowd. You almost feel guilty that you did nothing but dry hump Butcher and chat with an elderly rich woman, but that guilt washes away the moment you step inside the apartment.

“Bed, now,” Butcher tells you, tugging you by your hand toward the master bedroom.

“Y/N,” Hughie calls before you can disappear, “I thought your bedroom was that way.”

You turn to him with a frown, finding that stupid boyish grin stretched across his lips as the rest of the room watches you with amused faces.

“I’m not going to sleep, Hughie,” you say, before turning to Butcher, “I’m not tired.”

You catch a glimpse of his disgusted expression before you turn and rush into Butcher’s bedroom, followed closely by the man himself. His hand catches the collar the jacket and pulls it off of you as you step toward the bed.

“Not tired?” he asks, starting on the top button of his shirt.

You sit on the edge of the bed and kick your heels off. “Not at all.”

“Good.”

In two strides, he’s right in front of you, using his knee to nudge your legs apart so he can stand between them. His eyes trace up your bare leg, stopping where the red material reveals an inch of your black panties, and he sighs.

“So,” you say, leaning back with your hands on the bed, “what do I owe you?”

His self-control snaps and his hands yank at the opening of his shirt, ripping the rest of the buttons apart before he shrugs it off his shoulders. He straddles your hips and pushes you back, his lips assaulting your neck as you writhe beneath him.

“You said, I could take whatever fuckin’ I want,” he mutters against your skin.

You only moan in response and he sinks his teeth into your neck, hard enough to leave a bruise before soothing it with his tongue.

“I’m gon’a take all of you,” he growls, “but first-”

He sits back suddenly, his fingers making quick work of his belt and the fastenings of his trousers.

“I made a promise to this dress,” he finishes, before gripping the material on either side of the slit and ripping it.

You gasp as the silk falls loose around your body, tearing right up to the neck and cleaving the dress apart entirely. His eyes rake over your bare skin as he licks his lips and drops onto his hands to hover over you, grinding his hips down and eliciting another moan from your mouth.

“Fuckin’ hell,” he sighs, “you’re gon’a kill me with those pretty noises, sweethear’.”

“Butcher,” you whisper, wrapping your arms around his neck, “I need you.”

His elbows buckle and his body falls on top of yours as his lips capture yours in a searing kiss.

“You have me,” he murmurs against your mouth, “you’ve got all of me.”

END.

#billy butcher #the boys #billy butcher x reader #butcher x reader #karl urban #one shot #oneshot #homelander #hughie campbell #starlight #mm #mothers milk #frenchie #kimiko #the female #fanfic #fanfiction

[scorpioriesling]

Casual (pt. 1)

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *

Pairings: Azriel x reader, light Cassian x reader

Warnings: drinking, smut allusions, light foul language

Summary: Usually not one to go out, you decide to try it out one night, knowing the Inner Circle comes to the bar you work at. You’re hoping to maybe see them during the hours you work… what happens if you see them when you’re off the clock?

SR’s Note: This one will most certainly have multiple parts as I tend to get carried away I’m SORRY <3 Heavily inspired by the song Casual by Chappell Roan… I listened while thinking this one up and writing it, if you wanted to listen while reading along!

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *

Your weekly routine was generally the same; you worked behind the bar at Rita’s full-time, and spent most of your afternoons in the library— preferably, the wing that held the maps. Over the last few years, you’d taken an interest in Prythian’s history, and chose to spend extra time studying the geographical documents that had you’d become to intrigued by. Maybe, if you’d be able to learn enough and teach yourself sufficiently, you could get yourself a better job than mixing drinks from 9-5 each day at Rita’s.

It wasn’t all bad; for one, you really liked your coworkers. Your manager was cool, and the security of the bar left you feeling safe, even on the bad nights and weekends when you were asked to work a double or come in for extra hours. It wasn’t necessarily in the “bad part” of Velaris, if you could consider the lovely hidden city to have any “bad parts”— it was just an area that potbelly’s and drunkards liked to hang out until the wee hours of the morning.

Aside from the people you worked with, the customers were generally a good group too. A mixture of all kinds from the Night Court would come in, but what was most exciting was when the Inner Circle would visit — which happened more often than not, you had noticed. They started coming around more on Thursdays and Fridays, so you would casually hang around and chat with coworkers in hopes of possibly seeing the rulers of the court you called home a time or two.

Well, at least it started with that.

Then, you started picking up a couple extra hours on Thursdays. Maybe one or two, here and there. Just to cover rent and have extra spending money.

“How else am I paying for rounds later?” You teased, your closest coworker, Clayre, noticing the uptake in hours you’d started working. She’d only shrugged and shook her head at you.

“Just wondering. It’s unlike you; I figured you’d rather spend your weekends poring over those dusty pages in the library.”

A few extra hours wouldn’t matter, you still had the whole weekend off to yourself to spend studying those maps and working on bettering your knowledge. What would matter was when you changed not only the extra hours, but the lifestyle; not a party girl at heart, you finally started taking your coworkers up on their offers to hang out after hours, thus spending more time at your job and less in the library. This was a surprise to the people you shared eight hours of your every day with, but they were excited to finally get to hang out with you. Clayre seemed to think maybe something else was at play though.

“I’m just surprised you’re sacrificing any time you could have to be looking at those same old maps is all I’m saying,” she says, wiping down the bar one afternoon during a shift she shared with you. It was around 4:30 pm on a Friday, and you had plans to meet up with everyone here later tonight. She wasn’t wrong, by now she knew you well enough and knew you wanted a better life for yourself in your career; but she what she hadn’t caught onto yet was the master plan at play in other aspects of your life, which would involve getting out there more and meeting people. Rita’s was the place to be, the place to meet anyone and everyone, and seeing as it was a summer Friday night, it was a perfect opportunity.

“You’ve only got 30 minutes left; do you want to head out early and start getting ready?” She asks you kindly. Your eyes dart to the ticking clock hanging above the front door, and you suck your bottom lip between your teeth. She tosses the rag she’d been using into the sink behind the counter, and you glance behind her and see a few mixers that are looking a little low. The evening shift will have your asses if they aren’t full when they get there.

You smile at her. “Nah, I’m okay. It’s only 30 minutes. I’ve got a few things to finish up anyways. Do you want to go early today? Maybe pick up some food and meet over at my place?” You ask. She beams, happy that the kind gesture to leave early was returned to her.

“Absolutely!” She pulled the quill from the ink pot behind the bar, noting the time on the timesheet next to her name for the day. “Would you like anything in particular?”

“Surprise me.”

✧･ﾟ: *

“Y/N… that one is the one and you know it!” Clayre squeals and kicks her feet like a schoolgirl on your bed, staring at you from across your room. You stand in front of your closet, a short beige and brown dress hugging your curvy figure in all the places you’d liked. You’ll admit it; you bought this one on purpose, and dipped into your savings a little bit knowing this was the style of clothing that went along with the ambience that Rita’s offered during the summer months. Not quite a sundress, but not a gown either; not leather, but not too tight fitting that you couldn’t move. It was just… perfect. The colors looked gorgeous on you too and it didn’t scream for attention; and you had seen some questionable fashion choices in the past as a bartender. You’d taken a mental note to stay away from those.

“Well… I think you’re right.” You say, turning from side to side in front of your floor length mirror, admiring how the dress clings to the curve of your ass and shows off the body you’re blessed with. Clayre hops off the bed, skipping over to you and fluffing out your hair with her fingers. She drapes a few of your loose curls in front of your shoulders, the tendrils reaching just past the curve of your breast and framing the curve of your face the way you like. She grins.

“You’re getting laid tonight, that’s for sure,” she winks at you through the mirror. You laugh, your shoulders knocking against her as she begins giggling along with you. She steps over to your vanity and pops another sugared strawberry in her mouth, and then tosses the container in the trash.

“I wouldn’t look like this if it wasn’t for your help,” you start, glancing once more in the mirror. You usually opt for light makeup, but Clayre is so good at the dramatic stuff and she really helped you transform tonight. She swatted a hand in your direction, beginning to pick up loose clothing and makeup items from the floor.

“No, seriously. It takes me forever to curl my hair and I can’t do my makeup like this; you’re so good at it.” She smiles to herself and shoves her work uniform in her satchel, and you begin reorganizing your vanity. Peeking outside, you notice the sun setting.

“Hey, I can clean all this up later — we don’t have to do it now,” you say. Clayre props herself on the edge of your bed, pulling on a pair of pointed black heels. She narrows her brows at you.

“Y/N… you don’t want to bring a male back here later and the first thing he sees is your dirty clothes all over the floor, do you?”

✧･ﾟ: *

Rita’s was packed.

Like, line out the door, wrapped around the building, packed.

“Cauldron sacrifice me,” Clayre mutters as you approach the bar. You can hear the music coming from inside, neon lights flashing beyond the glass front door and illuminating the street in front of the entrance. Fae of all kind were in line ahead of you; from what you could see, some bore iridescent skin, some had wings, some with more elegant wear and some wearing plainclothes. That was the beauty of Rita’s; anyone was welcome.

Clayre stood on her tippy toes and peered around the line, trying to see around heads and bodies. You cast her a questioning look.

“I’m trying to see who’s on duty tonight for the front entrance,” she explained. “Maybe we can just walk to the front and walk in, you know, since we’re employees?” she says. You contemplate her words for a moment, and the line moves up by a few feet.

“I mean… ugh I don’t know. People will be mad if we cut right?” She rolls her eyes.

“I’m already hot and there’s like, 50 people ahead of us.” A group gets in line behind you, and you are unsure what to do. You don’t really get time to decide because Clayre is grabbing your wrist and pulling you out of line. You gasp at her.

“Clayre! We’re going to lose our spot-“ You say. As you pass person by person, you’re met with stares and given quizzical looks all the same. Clayre keeps marching ahead, drawing nearer to the entrance.

“Lionel!” She beams when we’re close enough to the security guard for him to register us butting in line instead of not actually being in it. He’s pulled from his 1000 yard stare at the sound of Clayre’s voice and he smiles bright when he sees her, a dramatic gasp coming out when he sees you. You roll your eyes at him and laugh.

“Y/N? Do my eyes beseech me?!” He raises the back of his hand to his head and pretends to faint, causing you and Clayre to chuckle. The group of fae females at the front of the line are staring burning holes into you, and you glance at one in particular, earning a scowl from her. Your cheeks heat a little bit, but you turn your attention back to your coworkers.

“I’ve finally pulled the moth from the depths of the dark library; she’s seen the LIGHT!” Clayre booms dramatically, and you swat her arm. It’s Lionel’s turn to let out a hearty laugh, and you can’t help but giggle. Once he’s taking big dramatic breaths, and calming down, you glance beyond the glass and notice your manager making his way toward the door. Hopefully he will allow someone in soon; you want the eyes still glaring at you to find different prey.

“Well, either way I’m glad you guys came out tonight. You ladies look great!” He says kindly. Clayre curtsys, and he shakes his head at her. Just then, the door swings open and your favorite manager Jeremiah opens the door. He had a clipboard and paper in one hand, not so much as looking up at Lionel as he holds up two fingers. Lionel stares at the two of you.

“I swear on the Cauldron, if you two get me fired-“

Clayre squeals and gives Lionel a quick side hug.

“Thank you thank you thank you!” She says before rushing inside. You stand on the balls of your feet and press a kiss to his cheek before rushing in after her, throwing him one last tiny wave and disappearing inside.

If Clayre thought it was hot outside, the air inside is sweltering. It’s warm and humid, feeling like the air in the jungle after a tropical storm.

That is, if the air also had laser beams shining through it and tendrils of smoke giving it a less than pleasant scent.

Clayre has clearly come here after hours before, as she’s bee-lining for the bar like she’s on a mission. You pass table after table, ones you’re accustomed to wiping down and serving day after day. The dance floor was already growing with bodies, jiving and thrumming with the bass-boosted music blaring from the speakers. One of the booths you pass has a “reserved” sign; which stinks. That one is your favorite, it’s the largest and in the corner, providing a little bit of quiet from the rest of the room. You thought you might snag it, if it was open.

Approaching the bar, you lean over to ask Clayre what she wants when the bartender Aleks saunters over to you both. The sleeves of his button down are rolled up, and you had to admit he was one of the more attractive males you worked with. He offered you a broad smile.

“Y/N! Wow, you look great — hey Clayre, a pleasure as always,” she smiles back at him, and it feels a bit awkward because usually she has some quip and you’re the one not speaking first. You take this time as your opportunity to start the conversation.

“Thank you Aleks,” you begin. He pours the green margarita mix into a glass with a perfectly sugary rum, and Clayre just stares at him while he does it. He takes note of it and smirks, glancing to you. “Be right back.” He says, walking to the other end of the bar to hand the drink to female in waiting. He makes his way back to you, and you look to Clayre. She swallows hard.

“Sorry I can’t chat with you ladies much tonight,” he says. “Unfortunately, I’m the only one on the schedule anddddd…” he gestures to the crowded room behind you. Your eyes widen.

“Damn,” you say. “I didn’t realize. Night are a lot different than days…” He shrugs.

“I mean, once they let everyone in for the night, Jeremiah said he’d be over here to help, but I mean, it’s whatever.” Clayre chews on her lip.

“Can I get a Blueberry Buzz?” she says. Aleks flicks his gaze to her and chuckles. Her cheeks redden, and I honestly don’t know what to think, I’ve never seen her like this.

“Make that two! I’ll have one too.” I say. He smiles and shrugs, the crowd around the bar only growing by the minute.

“Two Blueberry Buzzes,” he says, adding ice to two glasses he holds in one hand. “Do you want anything else while you’re up here? It might be a minute before I can talk to you ladies again.” He’s lightly shouting now, the chatter around us growing louder. Clayre shakes her head, but I decide not to agree with her on this one. I don’t need a slow burn tonight. I need to get fucked up.

“Can we also get two Lemon Wave shots and two shots of Whiskey Tango?” I ask. Clayre side eyes me, and I shrug at her. Alex sets down the glasses filled with the purple drinks, sprinkling edible glitter on top. I watch it swirl into the cocktail, and he slides the glasses across the bar to us.

“Two Blueberry Buzzes — had to make them pretty, for the prettiest girls in here, of course.” Your hand flies to your heart in fake admiration, though you do find the gesture sweet.

“Awwww!” You croon, earning a laugh from Aleks. “You shouldn’t have!” He grabs four shot glasses, working quickly with the two alcohols youd requested.

“And here…” he finishes the shots. “Are two Lemon Wave shots and two Whiskey Tangos.” He carefully hands two to you and two to Clayre, and she smiles shyly at him. He winks at her, and looks at you one final time.

“I can start a tab for you guys?” You nod, and take your beverages from the bar. You’d definitely be back later for more, but for now you needed to find a table.

✧･ﾟ: *

“All I’m saying is that if you just sit your lil butt on top of the bar and,” you can’t help but giggle. “…and tell him to pour it straight into your mouth, he might just bend you over right there, okay! I mean that’s all I’m saying!” You laugh, sending Clayre into a fit of laughter. She covers her mouth with her hands in embarrassment.

“He would literally never do that.” She finishes with a laugh. You’d been hanging out for thirty or forty five minutes, but the effects of the alcohol were already beginning to pulse through your veins. The warm feeling it was giving you was nice; you wondered why you didn’t come do this more often with your friends. This was quite fun; you can see why Clayre liked it so much.

Unfortunately, all the tables had been taken by the time you’d left the bar, so you opted to take the shots first and leave the glasses by the bar, now nursing the last remnants of your cocktail near the outskirts of the dance floor. Clayre tips her head back, draining hers entirely and wiggles the glass in front of you, rattling the ice.

“Catch up, sweets.” You roll your eyes, having mostly glitter water left in your glass. You finish it in one swallow, and you hold out your hand for Clayre to take your glass. She scoffs.

“Why me?” She asks. You grin.

“Because.” You give her a knowing look. You don’t even need to explain before she groans and takes it from you, trudging over to the bar and elbowing her way through people to get to the front. You see her small green dress disappear for only a moment before she’s back, and you’re shaking your head with crossed arms as she approaches. She throws her arms up in the air as she walks towards you.

“Whaaat!” She drawls. “I can’t talk to him now anyways, he’s busy.” She excuses.

“Tsk tsk.” You say, grabbing her hand. You look toward the dance floor, a small patch of flooring clear in your line of sight. “Come on — I wanna go dance.”

It’s not long before you’re back at the bar. And again. And again. To be fair, one of those times, you made Clayre go, but it “didn’t count” because Jeremiah was over there and took her order instead.

The effects of all the drinks you’ve had are in full swing as you’re thriving on the dance floor, arms in the air and swinging your hips. You’ve never felt so confident, never done anything so fun. Your bones feel like they’re made of air, and you’re on cloud nine. You feel light, airy, sexy, and just… good.

You’re feel so good, and so smart for coming up with a brilliant idea when the song you and Clayre are dancing to ends and you shout to her over the people around you. “My mouth is real dry Clayre!” She nods and sticks her tongue out. You laugh at her.

“Nooo Clayre — my mouth.” She’s giggling too, and pulls you close by the wrist.

“IM GONNA NEED MAYBE A DRINK.” She shouts. You smile.

“I need water!” You say back. She nods, then frowns. Then she shakes her head.

“Yeah I want some water but maybe another drink too. I don’t know. Let’s just go together.” She grabs onto your wrist and pulls you toward the bar. You thank the mother that it’s a little less busy now, and notice the clock on the wall reads 11:48. Aleks notices you, and Clayre drops your arm.

“Actually I’m gonna go pee real quick…” she says. You roll your eyes at her, just as Aleks appears in front of you.

“Hey stranger! How’s it going?” He asks. You lean on the bar, taking a seat on one of the stools. He grabs a glass, filling it with ice and dispensing clear water into it. You sigh as he slides it to you.

“Cauldron…” you practically moan and bring it to your lips, chugging half of it and setting it down. He’s chuckling at you, arms crossed over his torso. “Thank you.” He grins.

“You looked like maybe you needed it.” He rests his hands on the lip of the bar, staring at you as his smile grows. You can’t help but smile back and huff a laugh.

“What!” You say. He chuckles again.

“You didn’t answer my question Y/N,” he says, still grinning at you. You’re trying really, really hard to remember what he asked.

“Aleks… I’m going to be so honest with you right now, I do not even remember what you asked me.” He shakes his head, smiling at the ground. You catch sight of Clayre rounding the opposite corner of the bar from the bathroom, and you get yet another brilliant idea.

“Hey um you have to go over there to Clayre because she wanted to get a drink,” you say quickly. Aleks looks at you confused.

“Okay… isn’t she coming over here?”

Yes, Aleks. But if she’s over here with me, I’ll have to do all the talking and she won’t be forced to do any of it.

“No uhhhh….” You’re struggling to come up with an excuse. “She said she wants one at that end of the bar… like all the way down there so you gotta go over there.” You shoo him away, before Clayre draws any closer. Thank the Mother he actually catches her before she gets more than a few inches down the length of the bar, and he begins talking to her. You decide you’re not going to look — she can thank you later.

You’re sipping your water, the effect of all those drinks not lessening with the effort when a large, tan male takes a seat beside you. You’re quick to take him in; well, first of all, he’s huge. Even sitting, he towers over the bar. His shoulder length brown hair is halfway tied back, and he has a light brown stubble on the lower half of his face. His tight black pants are lined with a multitude of emptied bands pockets, for weapons that he must have unsheathed for his night out. He must be Illyrian.

Finally he clears his throat and turns to you, sparing you the action of speaking first. Although it is itching you why he’s sitting so close to you, considering all the other empty barstools up here.

“I don’t really know how to start these kind of things…” his voice comes out rough and gravelly. He keeps looking at the brick wall behind the bar, a hand scratching at his chin. You continue to give him a once over.

“Well. Uh, I guess I should probably introduce myself first, right? I’m Cassian.” He says, finally turning to face you. His soft brown eyes meet yours, and he truly is handsome. You give him a small smile, shifting on the stool so you’re knee-to-knee with the stranger.

“Y/N.” You say. He smiles back.

“Y/N. Alrighty… uh.” He clasps his hands together and you glance behind him. Clayre is finally talking with Aleks. Thank the Cauldron.

Your newfound handsome man seems to be stumbling with his words, so you decide to play it up a little bit. You lean over, bending at the waist and place both of your hands on his knees. In doing this, your elbows push together, exposing yourself in your already semi-revealing dress. Is it a little much? Yes. Is it something you’d ever normally do? No. Are we throwing morals out the window tonight? Absolutely.

You stare up at him innocently as his eyes widen, and you see him fighting to look anywhere but your face. He doesn’t have to; his pants are constricting enough that the bulge under his zipper is already beginning to grow. He swallows thickly, clearing his throat. He almost looks like he’s sweating a little.

“Ohh um… so I’m actually not over here for um. Myself, uh…” he chuckles, and you notice he sneaks a glance. Poor guy. His eyes wander right down the valley you’ve created, which doesn’t help his situation. Both pairs of eyes drift there next, and then you make eye contact again. You smirk.

“Hmm… are you… sure? About that? Because it seems like-“ You begin to draw circles with your pointer finger on his knee, and he’s near panting as he grabs both of your hands in his, cutting you off.

“No. I’m…” He takes a breath. “Really. I came over here just to ask if you have a mate or anything.” You smirk.

“Or… anything.” You drawl. He closes his eyes, almost willing his erection to go away. Touching you was a bad idea, even if it was in an attempt to make his situation better. He sets your hands gently back in your lap, and you continue to stare at him innocently. You lift yourself off the barstool, the back of your thighs starting to stick to the leather. Once you’ve peeled them off, you set yourself back down with a slight bounce, allowing Cassian to notice. You swear you can hear a tiny groan come from him at the sight.

“I will take that as a no.” He runs a hand down his face. “Listen Y/N, really, I started this whole thing off so wrong, okay,” he fumbles. You nod, smirking at him.

“It’s my friend that I’m asking for. He’s been kind of, well… he’s been attracted to you all night,” he finishes with a little laugh. You can’t help but laugh with him.

“Mhm, and this, friend,” you say. “Why hasn’t he just come talk to me himself?” Cassian shrugs, looking out at the dance floor, then back to you.

“Honestly, I don’t know why Azriel does half the things he does. But, what I do know is, he’s probably watching us right now and he’s going to kill me when I walk away from you.” He lets out an exasperated groan, and you raise an eyebrow.

Azriel.

Hmm.

“Sounds… charming.” You taunt. Cassian chuckles, his broad shoulders rising and falling with the action. He shakes his head and moves to stand readjusting slightly as he does.

“Just take my word for it, I suppose.” He says, looking down at you one last time with a grin. “I think you two will get along juuuust fine.” You roll your eyes and he stalks off. Whatever that means. You would’ve been fine going home with Cassian.

Clayre meets your eyes, hers filled with so many expressions. Aleks is nowhere to be found, and she mouths from one end of the bar from another.

“IM GOING HOME WITH ALEKS” she points to herself and the swinging door connecting the bar to the kitchen, presumably where Alex’s disappeared to. You give her a thumbs up and smile, silent clapping.

She makes a motion, outlining a huge mass with her hands and then shrugging and pointing to the barstool next to me.

“HE WAS CUTE” She nods her head slowly, eyes wide. I shake my head no.

“WHY?” She mouths back, just as the door swings open, Aleks walking through with his keys in his hand. The clock above the bar now reads 12:35, and Jeremiah follows him out, speaking happily to him and waving him off. He rounds the bar and offers an arm to Clayre, and she looks at you one last time over her shoulder excitedly before exciting out the back door with him. You look toward the dance floor, hoping to spot Cassian but unfortunately, he’s nowhere to be found. There’s no real point in waiting around without a friend, and you’d be damned waiting for a guy who hadn’t talked to you all night to come talk to you now.

You drain the last few sips of water you had left from the slowly melting ice, making to stand and head out when two large hands appear on either side of you, arms boxing you in. Your eyes widen, a cool presence behind you; shadows tickling your jaw and trailing over your collarbone. The scents of cool mint, sage, and sea salt invade your senses; clean, but dangerous. Soft strands of hair brush against the top of your ear as a low, seductive voice, cool as the ice left in your glass rasps:

“I don’t believe we’ve properly met.”

✧･ﾟ: *

Part 2

#azriel smut #a court of silver flames #a court of thorns and roses #acosf #acofas #acotar smut #acotar #acotar fandom #acomaf #rhys acotar #lucien acotar #acowar #a court of frost and starlight #a court of mist and fury #a court of wings and ruin #cassian #azriel #azriel fanfic #Spotify

[azrielslightintheshadows]

I've got you.

Azriel x f!Reader

Request; Right now I'm kinda going mad because of uni and I came up with this idea of the reader that is like studying something to help the inner circle, but she can't find anything (or whatever came up to your mind love) and Az, her mate, try to reassure her with cuddle/kisses and lot of fluff.

Warnings; Mentions of potential death, reader feels useless

Masterlist.

Hope this is what you had in mind love <3

The words on the tenth book you were currently reading seemed like foreign symbols, your brain had turned into a mush and you groaned as you massaged your temples. Nesta’s powers disappeared when she saved Feyre from death and everyone worried that it might have an impact on her health, thus you were searching every book you could find. Rhys and Feyre wanted to help but they were preoccupied by Nyx and everyone else made sure they were safe and handled the matters of the court.  

“Come on, you can finish the book” you whispered to yourself and flinched when a deep chuckle sounded from behind you. 

“You should take a break angel” your mate’s velvety voice filled your ears and you smiled softly. He moved closer and placed those beautiful scarred hands on your shoulders massaging them. 

“I can’t stop now, I haven’t found anything and we don’t know how much time we have if it actually messes with Nesta’s health” you said and your bottom lip trembled. Nesta managed to become one of your dearest friends and just the thought of something happening to her made you want to rip your hair off. The fact that you couldn’t find something to help her broke your heart in million pieces. 

“Calm down angel, we don’t know if she is in trouble for sure, maybe that’s why you can’t find anything” he said softly and pulled your chair back, he marked the page of the book and picked you up. 

“Everything’s going to be alright” he murmured in your hair and sat on the armchair next to the big window of the study. 

“I’ve read ten books and I can’t find anything. I feel so useless right now” you confessed and hid your face in his neck. 

“You’re not useless baby, you are the only one who’s trying to find something about the situation.” He paused for a second “I think that this makes everyone else useless.” 

You shook your head with a smile “don’t say that, you’re all busy” 

“We are but that doesn’t change that you are researching without any help. Give yourself some credit and take some time to relax before you burn your sneaky brain”  he pinched your side and you gasped. 

“Stop” you whined and hugged him harder making him chuckle and kiss the top of your head. Two cups of tea appeared on the coffee table next to you and Azriel hummed, he picked one and pinched your side again to make you look. 

“I’ll return to my book if you keep this up” you feigned an annoyed expression and he smirked.

“No you will do no such thing, this is Azriel time and I’m not sharing” he scolded. 

You took the cup from him and leaned back on his chest, peeking at the view outside and enjoying his warmth. Azriel was staring outside while his hand rubbed soothing circles on your back. 

After a while you sighed and looked at him 

“I have to continue…” you trailed off with a sad smile. 

“Let me help you” he smiled and carried you to the table. 

You spent the rest of the day checking every book, even Azriel’s shadows started flipping through books.

“They can read?” You asked.

“I don’t even know anymore, they surprise me every day” he shrugged.

You kept huffing and puffing, moving from one book to another trying to make some sense but nothing. Azriel looked frustrated too and even his shadows slithered back to him looking defeated. Your eyelids started dropping and you blinked, you couldn’t stop now. You picked another book and started reading. 

You felt something cold touching your back and you hissed.

“Shh it’s okay I’ve got you” Azriel whispered, you opened your eyes and realized that he had carried you to bed. He stripped his clothes and lied next to you, pulling you on his chest and letting a sigh. 

“Get some sleep angel, tomorrow we will continue the research together” he murmured and kissed your head. 

The next day you managed to find a book with a similar story, thankfully the fae who gave away his powers survived and you both cheered and walked hand in hand to the dining room to inform everyone. 

Just before you entered the dining room you glanced at Azriel with a lovesick smile 

“What would I do without you”

Hope you enjoyed it!

@hauntedwitch04

#acotar #acotar series #azriel #azriel shadowsinger #azriel spymaster #acotar fanfiction #azriel acotar #a court of thorns and roses #feyre archeron #rhysand #azriel fanfic #acosf #azriel x reader #shadowsinger x reader #acomaf #velaris #city of starlight #night court #acowar #a court of silver flames #a court of mist and fury #a court of wings and ruin #the night court

[aha-my-villainous-thoughts]

Hey beautiful babies 💙 happy V day, here's a smitten starlit Ed, another gift to a dear mutual 💙

When Ed looks back at Stede, he pauses, exhales audibly and sends Stede a soft smile. Watches him as he runs his hands over Stede’s thighs, kneads his thumbs into the hot, sensitive skin at his groin, tilts his head a little to the side.

Stede has to look like a complete mess—he knows his hair must be disheveled, can see the thick streaks of ejaculate on his belly shine in the silvery light. But Ed is a true vision, backlit by the moonshine coming though the yet curtainless windows (six months), and need still buzzes through Stede’s veins despite the mind-blowing orgasm Ed just coaxed out of him.

💙

Read Five Birthdays and a Funeral by @bizarrelittlemew for your own wellbeing 😘💋

Uncensored version going up on Twitter, and in the fic in due course too 💙

#the villain's art #edward teach #ofmd fanart #our flag means death #blackbonnet #blackbonnet fanart #ofmd #gentlebeard #blackbeard #ed teach #starlight #fanfic rec #bizarrelittlemew #male nude #digital painting #lgbt art #fanartist

[sapchat]

The Lord's Daughter

Cassian x Devlon!Reader

Synopsis: You’re Lord Devlon’s daughter, which definitely won’t cause any issues. Right? Fluff and Angst

Warnings: Devlon, misogyny :D, abuse, wing clipping, also you’re somewhat of a housewife because I read to many stories of people that end up with Cassian, Azriel or Rhys where they want to train and be strong. You can be strong and take care of a house, fuck that fighting shit. Also, I use female terminology, but you could read it as a more feminine male, FtM or even MtF if wanted.

Words: 7.6k

The High Lord was coming to the house for a meeting, and then dinner. Father stated they were to talk about the camp, what the High Lord wanted to change, to talk about the girls training. Father stated it was because ‘that bastard general of his’ has reported once again the girls aren’t training. The other lords of Windhaven have all agreed that the girls can train just after their chores.

The only issue with that is the males of camp have just been giving us more work. So where I used to have time to myself to read, or play piano, I spend most of my day now doing chores and helping the younger girls of camp.

I don’t mind it, truly, it helps them out to do what they want. Train. I just don’t have an interest, and it’s not because my Father believes a female’s place is the house, I just don’t enjoy it. I’ve spent enough time helping patch up the warriors in the infirmary to know I want nothing to do with it.

I’d rather be a ‘housewife’ likely to the High Lord’s displeasure.

It doesn’t help that the General has been pestering all the girls lately to see why none of them are training.

It doesn’t help he pestered me before about it. Just before Rhysand became the High Lord. That thought caused me to look to my father, who had been in the sitting room sipping his whiskey.

“Father, do you know how many will be attending the meeting and meal? So, I might be prepared?” I ask, and the look on his face either turned to anger because I interrupted his thought or because of who will attend.

“The bastard lord, and his two-bastard ilk will attend. Not sure about his whore cousin.” He answered and downed his glass. Yea the anger is from the guests.

I wiped my hands on the apron I wore and untied it to set to the side, “Is there anything you’d specifically want for the meal? I can head to the butcher’s tomorrow when he opens. And I believe that the Huxley’s just finished canning and harvesting some of their vegetables for the season, I can stop and see what they have.”

“Get something from a pig. Just what they need to remind them what they are. No better than anyone else. Just nicer versions of pigs.” He poured himself another glass. Three fingers full this time.

“Pig sounds good, it’s been a little while since I’ve made a pig roast. I get some beans and potatoes to mash with it if that sounds good father.” If I’m to roast an entire pig for dinner, then I’ll have to go to the butchers early. Hopefully Elias can help bring it to the spit for me.

Father just grunted in reply, I’ll have to see what good alcohol I can find on short notice to serve. Possibly a cheap wine for me in order to get through it all.

Father was to spend most of the day showing the High Lord, the General and the Shadowsinger how the troops were, and how the girls’ training were proceeding, whilst I prepped the house for dinner. Turns out a pig roast doesn’t take as long as one would think to cook.

So, I got to spend some of my morning and afternoon outside tending to it and watching the camp show what they’ve learned. What new techniques have been taught from the war, whilst some of the girls stood to the side doing simple maneuvers like breathing or stretching.

It was strangely beautiful seeing the males move how they did. Like it was a dance whilst they were paired off, a dance that turned bloody and violet sure, but a dance nonetheless.

I tried my best to ignore the eyes of the three guests but at some points it couldn’t be avoided, and I’d quickly look away and go back to peeling my potatoes. Like a game of camp and mouse, except each time I’d glance there’d be some type of questioning look in one of their eyes. The General’s.

Whilst one of the three would pop in for a visit to the camps occasionally, I was never around. I’d just hear my father’s complaints later. With the occasional slap if it was a real grueling day. They weren’t the worst punishment you’ve received from the man. By the time it gets to the point he wants to slap he’s had a few glasses full, and he doesn’t have much strength.  

Besides he wanted me to look beautiful so he could still possibly find me a husband. Being the camp lord’s daughter did have its benefits. A pick of husbands, not that I’d get to chose but, and less beatings than some of the other women. Because whilst father would have rather had sons, he only has me. And as cruel as he can be I can say he doesn’t hate me. Detest me for not having a cock, sure.

But I am still his child.

Cauldron, part of me thinks just a little he hates he clipped my wings. He’d done it properly, thankfully. Had the best healer tend to it, so I still have functions in my wings and no real pain. Many of the girls and females in camp can’t say that. I’ve tended to many of them after the fact of how mangled their fathers make them. How they can barley even function.

The High Lord has attempted to ban wing clipping, imposing harsh punishments on those who still do it. It hasn’t stopped many of the fathers from clipping in secret. Which has caused more injuries than needed. It doesn’t help many of the males of camp beat their wives and daughters.

No wonder some many of the fae hate us. No wonder the High Lord and his friends hate coming around. Maybe that’s what the meeting is about. More changes to make to the camp. I’m sure father will love that. Something I’ll have to listen to until the next demand the High Lord makes.

I’d been so busy peeling and cutting up potatoes I didn’t see the massive imposing figure next to me. Red siphons littering his body, stature casting a shadow over my body, wings just posed enough to not be aggressive but catching my attention.

“Why aren’t you training with the other girls?” It was the General, Cassian, who had walked up to question me. And I’m shocked to find him talking with me. I’m trying to remember when the last time it might’ve been, and the only time I can think of it was around the time of their Blood Rite at a bonfire.

The war came not long after that, and then once it ended, I started taking care of the house more. Learning how to be a good wife from my mother, learning from some of the healers how to care for wounds.

“I’m peeling potatoes…” It’s the most obvious thing that I’m doing. He can see the potato in my hand, the others that had been peeled, and the skins on the ground around me.

“The girls of camp are to train just everyone else. So… why aren’t you training yourself?” He asked again, as if it’s the strangest thing in the world to not want to train. To rather cook, clean and care for a home than fight and get bloody and bruised.

“Because I’m prepping for dinner. After the meeting with the High Lord.” It’s a simple answer, one anyone should be able to guess, especially the General.

“Lord Devlon has been instructed that all girls of training age, or those that wish to, train before doing chores.”

“I know the rule Lord Cassian,” He cringes lightly at the title, “My father tells the camp of the rules the High Lord has created and has been enforcing. Believe it or not, I am not of training age nor do I want to train. I am perfectly content doing what I have been.”

The General almost seemed shocked at what I said. And just as he went to add something else, someone called him back to the others. He looked at the voice, then back to me, as if he was going to ignore them. Continue to question me; but he left.

Once he left, I took the food inside, to finish cooking it. The Generals presence reminding me of that bonfire. What the night brought, what rare fun you got to have. Before many of you had responsibilities for the real world….

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~Flashback~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“If your father finds out I allowed you to go out tonight he’d have both our heads.” My mother had stated glancing hesitantly at me from over the counter.

“Well, father is going to be in meetings with some of the camp lords, and other males of camp. Hence why this party is happening tonight.” I told her, the crunch of an apple piece ending my statement from the fruit she had given me for a snack.

“You’re not going to do anything… reckless are you? Nothing to…-“

I interrupted her, “Mother I’m not going to sleep with anyone. My pureness will be intact when I leave the house and will still be present when I come back. You’ll have no issue marrying me off. Even then, you and father are still able to have children.”

My mother had walked around the counter and pulled me into her chest, kissed my head and stated, “Why would I ever try to mess up perfection?” She had always said I was the best thing she made; no other child would be able to compare.

By the time I had gotten to the party it was in full swing, liquor and ale being passed around in cups, people sneaking off to the shadows to feel or hook up.

I had just planned on seeing some of my friends, only have maybe one or two drinks, I hadn’t expected the heir to the Night Court to be there. Which meant his two shadows would be around him too, both bastard low-born males, one who fought for his place in Windhaven and slid his way to the heir’s side. The other, the one everyone says was kissed by flame and shadow, who was dropped off here by his father’s guards as a favor to whoever his mother was. Just because the Lady of Night was a family friend.

The three of them weren’t much older than I, maybe by a few years, they were nearing the age and power to compete in the Blood Rite, where many Illyrian males aim for the age of 30 to compete. The name is self-explanatory, it’s a rite of passage where lots of blood happens.

I had spotted the long-hair male, I believe his name is Cassius or along the lines, standing by the fire passing a cup of ale to another female. Brushing through the crowds, I made my way over looking at the different drink options feeling hazel eyes looking at me.

Without even looking at the person staring I ask, “Going to give a suggestion or just keep starring?”

“I mean either works for me. Which allows me to stare longer?” Cassius… Cassiel… shit what is his name…

“Hmmm… giving a suggestion allows me to sip something as you stare.” I finally turn to look at him, and realize how much taller he is. He’s standing at least a head over me, if not two heads. Maybe a head and a small head.

“Ale is always a good choice. If you’d like something harder, a whiskey mixes or rum. Something sweet, I saw someone walk by with wine earlier so that’s somewhere… Cassian by the way.” CASSIAN! That’s his name.

“Y/N, and I’m okay with ale. My mixed drinks either varies by too strong and mainly the liquor or not enough and its basically just soda.” He nods his head and takes to pouring me a cup, getting no foam in it before handing it over.

“So, Windhaven native orrrr….?” He asks, and I can’t tell if he expects to end the night in my pants or not. If he actually just wants to get to know me.

“Native, my father is one of the lords sooo. Kinda have to follow the line. Only reason I got to come tonight was the meeting.”

“Yea, that was the main reason for this soiree. Helps that the High Lord is there taking the attention off of us to do it.” My eyes widened just a little, not realizing that the Lord of the Night Court was present.

“I didn’t realize he was coming to that meeting… how do you know that, figured it’d be a bit of a secret.” I watch as he points off to the side, following his direction I see how he knows, the heir, Rhysand is against a tree. Kissing another male with a female between them.

“He’s… committed?” I don’t even know how to describe it, and whilst it wouldn’t be me… I won’t judge others. That’s wrong.

“Oh,” the sharpest grin spreads on Cassian’s face, “He’s a very committed High Lord.”

“I’m sure the Night Court will be in… loving hands?” It’s a questionable laugh, one I hope doesn’t offend him or his friend.

“He will be, he’s got plans. Hopes to make Illyria a better place. But none of that, you’re drinking with one of the next Carynthian!” He’s proud of the statement, as if knowing he’s going to win no matter what.

“Oh, you’re competing this coming spring? Are… are all three of you doing it?” It’s a simple question, one because I know my father has already complained about them signing up together. It’s somewhat nice seeing others give him a headache rather than I.

“You can bet you’re sweet ass.” My eyebrows raise as I blink at what he exclaimed, “We all plan to complete it together. We started as one, we’ll end as one.”

“That’s… sweet. To many Illyrians die during it… To much blood shed just to come out on top just to come out with bragging rights.”

Cassian shrugs as if it isn’t too much of an issue. “Everyone in this camp is out for someone’s blood. The blood rite keeps everyone… sated. It’s a way to get rid of your enemy’s or people you hate without having to deal with a punishment from Lord Dickhead. Illyria is awful anyway with how everyone gets treated, if there weren’t challenges or the blood rite, we’d never be an army. Be to busy fighting each other.”

He's right but the name ‘Lord Dickhead’ throws me off… he’s not talking about…? “Lord Dickhead?”

The biggest grin ever splits across his face, and that’s how I know 1. He’s talking about my father and 2. He doesn’t know I’m his daughter. “Lord Dickhead, Lord Devlon. He’d answer to both I think.”

It had caused me to laugh, Windhaven is a big camp so not everyone realizes that my dad is one of the lords, let alone realize I’m his daughter. We talked more that night, but Cauldron knows I can’t remember. The ale was pretty strong, and I hadn’t drunk much before. But I do remember the night ended with a sloppy kiss.

We had moved to just the outskirts of the party, and he made a comment about going to be the best warrior the camp has seen. His goal was to be a general one day. And I had made a silly little comment about me being the fair maiden and him being the amazing knight.

He told me that the knight always gets a kiss before and after saving the maiden. So, he said he earned a kiss before the Blood Rite. So, I risked it. One of the only times I ever risked my status and the ire of my father.

I pressed my lips against his, hesitantly. He cupped my cheeks in his hands, tilting his head just slightly and pressed his lips against mine a rush of heat flowing through me. My brows furrowed just as he ran his tongue along my lip and in my confusion, I followed instinct and raised my hands to cup his face.

It had been a hot, hungry rushed kiss. My first kiss, something no other male got from then on. The war came after, among a thousand other things. But it always felt like a part of my soul was missing from then on.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~Present~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I had been so lost in my daydream I had finished the potatoes. The type of ‘blackout’ where you just rely on muscle memory and continue doing whatever you were and come back out after going “Oh I actually cooked those right and didn’t just imagine it right?”

I quickly started setting everything out on the table, laid out the glasses, with a pale of ice cubes if wanted and the slightly expensive whiskey I found set out as well.  

And just as I finished stirring the mashed-up potatoes, I heard my father lead the males in. In walked the High Lord, the Shadowsinger and Cassian. I walked into the doorway of the eating room, watching my father lead them in, the whiskey and glasses already on the table from earlier today.

My father nodded to me, seeing that everything was out for them already. He then turned to the others and nodding in my direction and three sets of eyes lay on me. Each holding different twinkles in their eyes. “I’m not sure if you all remember back from, you’re all’s youth, but this is my daughter. Y/N Devlon.”

The High Lord’s and Shadowsinger’s expressions stayed neutral, but Cassian’s eyes widened just a bit. Either from realizing that I would in fact know the rules because of me being his daughter. Or because he finally remembered who I was. 

Either way I bowed just enough to be respectful, “Hello. Dinner is ready, and I left the option of drink choices. I hope everything is to your guys’ liking.” The Shadowsinger’s gaze glanced over the table, likely trying to see if anything would be poisoned but his gaze stuck on the roasted pig sat out, glistening with juices.

As if realizing what caught the shadowsinger’s attention, the High Lord and Cassian’s attention moves to it as well. Cassian only really seemed to have an issue with it, his teeth clenched and fist slightly clenched.

The High Lord took it in stride however, “Devlon, I’m glad you remembered how much I loved a roasted pig. Did it come from the Collymore family? They still have their butcher shop don’t they?”

My father leaned over his seat, and poured himself a glass, “You are correct Rhysand, the Collymore’s still have their butcher shop, their son has helped take it over. Truly it was them to remember your love for pig. Too many of you boys I raised and sent off to remember it all.” There’s a little eye twitch in his eye at the dig. “Please sit. Let’s not let this meal go to waste.”

I helped pour glass for the males, asked if anything else was needed before being waved away by my father. Walking back into the kitchen for my own dinner, I felt eyes follow me.

My own meal was smaller, consisting of really only the sides, pork wasn’t my favorite choice of meal, especially when it came to having to look at the face of a pig while eating. I spent most of dinner trying to ignore the conversation happening one wall over.

Voices varying in differing heights as disagreements and agreements happened. Why they elected to have a meeting over a meal? I’m not to sure. Doesn’t seem like much eating is actually happening. And as the person who cooked the meal, it kind of upsets me that my work is going to waste.

I could see the little shadow join me in the kitchen as I ate. Giving me some company, granted I’m sure it’s reporting back. As soon as that thought happens, it shoots off and another replaces. At least I think it’s a different one.

I’d been so distracted by the noises from the other room and the little shadows I didn’t see the massive frame entering the kitchen from the back. I jumped a good foot when I heard him speak.

“Why didn’t you say you were Devlons’ daughter?” General Cassian.

“Pardon?” It comes out quickly, just with one breath as I stare at him. His wings flexing with a slight irritation to them.

“You know what I asked.”

“Are you talking about earlier today or when we first met?” It’s a good question. Simple enough that if he doesn’t remember then I don’t have to possibly deal with the fact we drunkenly kissed. Or I can let him have some panic for calling my father ‘Lord Dickhead’. Even if that shoe fits.

“That depends. When do you think we first met?” I just slightly narrow my eyes, then glance in the direction of the dining room and back. What’s his game? And how do I play?

I’ve grown up around these warriors. Whilst I’d rather stay at home, I can bite back. “’Lord Dickhead.”

A saccharine smirk grows across his face, a glistening white canine peaking out. “What would Devlon thing about his daughter kissing an Illyrian bastard?”

“He didn’t know. The only one who did was my mom. Maybe your friends. But I never said a thing. I don’t kiss and tell.”

“That why you don’t train? Because he’s your father and he doesn’t allow you to?” He seems almost pissed as if it’s my father not letting me train.

I finally set my fork down with my plate and glare, “If I wished to train with everyone else. I would. It’s my choice whether I do or not. The High Lord doesn’t require me to train, he just states that the girls that wish to train, do. And I don’t want to.” My wings have started to flare just lightly, likely the only amount of dominance I’ll ever show.

He glances at my wings, eyes narrowing as if now realizing that my wings were clipped. A slight growl coursing through his chest. “So doesn’t allow you to train and clipped your wings. Wonder how Rhys would feel about him breaking both rules he’s imposed.”

I pull my wings back in close and tight to my back almost self-consciously before saying, “My wings are none of your business. It especially doesn’t concern the High Lord. What I do is not any of your business either. If I wanted to train, I would.”

“It matters if the Lord of this camp is breaking the laws that have been imposed by the High Lord. Rhysand has explained in great detail what the punishments are for wing clipping, and for not allowing the girls of camp to train.” I understand they want change. I do. But the punishments he’s talking about is either a beating or death. To “prove a point” they just kill them.

We’re in silence for a few minutes, him waiting for me to bite back likely. And when he seems to think I won’t, he turns to leave. To go back to his precious High Lord, but as he hits the doorway something makes me open my mouth, “They were clipped before I met you. Even before the bonfire.”

It makes him pause, but he continues back to the dining room.

It’s a week later until I see him again. I had been walking around the farmer market the camp has. And he seemed to be walking around buying some of the food, either for a quick lunch or just to support some of the families of Windhaven.

So, being the peace maker, I try to be, I go up to him, “Hi.” Simple, if he wants, he can ignore me, or he can engage.

“Y/N. How are you?” Okay so not an immediate ‘fuck off’ so that’s good.

“I’m doing great! How about you?”

“Good.” Okay so maybe he’s just being polite.

“…What brought you to the market today.” He just glanced at me, and it’s really making me rethink trying to be nice.

“Have you been over by the Monroe stall since being back at the camps? Cade and his wife Calliope run it now. I think he did the Blood Rite a couple years after you.”

He sighs, “What are you doing?” He just barley looks down at me, an emotion in his eye I can’t pinpoint.

I just shrug, “I don’t know, I figured you’d maybe like the company. I know you’re not the most popular in the camps all considering. Plus, that first time we met we were friends,” I look down at that, “At least I think we became friends. Even if it was just for that short time! I didn’t really see you after…. And I know the second time we met it was tense, but you were eating dinner with my father-“

He cuts me off, “Whilst you were eating the bare minimum in the kitchen. Alone.”

My eyebrows furrow just lightly, “I couldn’t really eat with you guys. You were discussing camp policies. Not really a place for me.”

“Because you’re a female?”

“No, because I don’t know anything about camp policies. It wouldn’t make sense for me to be there. It’d be like if I showed up for a war meeting. No reason for me to be there.” It makes sense in my head so I would think it makes sense in his.

“That’s your home. You prepared the meal; you welcomed us into the home. You should have sat at the table and ate.”

“Can I ask something General Cassian?” It’s something I want to know. But his face makes me smile just a little.

“You can just call me Cassian; but yes.” It’s almost a grumble with how he answers.

“Why does it bother you so much? How I decide to do things with my life?” He pauses in his step as if debating something. Either to answer or to tell me.

“That night. The… night of the ki- of the bonfire.” He rephrases his statement as if remembering we’re around others of camp. As if he realizes if anyone overhears, my virtue will be in question. My reputation in the camps, ruined. “I… I know we’re older. Now. But I thought I felt something… that night. Something deep in my soul. And then you were gone, the Blood Rite happened, then the war.

Just to find out you were under my nose the entire time. Did you know that Rhys didn’t know Devlon had a wife, let alone a child. One so close in age. Let alone one who’s wings had been clipped, doesn’t train with the other girls and females of camp.”

“He doesn’t have a wife anymore. My mother died not long after the war ended. And I told you the other night that my wings were already clipped the first time we met.” I sharply turn in front of him, “Also, I didn’t realize I had to inform you who I was when we met. I don’t usually walk up to people go ‘Hi my names Y/N, my father is Lord Devlon lets go make out!’ When we met, we were nobodies. You didn’t have a title, such an important role, so many responsibilities. So, I stayed out of the way. No matter what I might’ve felt that night.”

It's like a ripple is sent out. Something in the wind has changed. But all we can do is look at one another. Both breathing slightly heavily from what’s been shared.

Cassian looks away for just a second, nostrils flaring. “Is that why you didn’t come around? Because I’m a bastard? A fatherless motherless brute with no standing?”

I scoff at what he’s trying to imply, “Why would your parents matter to me? I didn’t come around because 1. How did I know you wished me to? You were sent to the Blood Rite the night after, then the war came, Rhysand became the High Lord and you left. 2. You forget that even though my father is Lord Devlon, I am a woman, a daughter to a brute that cares more for this camp than I. I have no standing which is something I’ve accepted.”

“So, I just assume I’m supposed to sit here and believe, that even when I was not a general, you would’ve had me? Would’ve let me court you?”

“YES!” I exclaimed, the few people still wondering around the market glancing in our direction. I hold my stuff a little tighter before glancing back at Cassian’s eyes, “Come on, follow me before we get into any more trouble.”

The winged male slowly followed behind, as if he were a child that had gotten in trouble. Luckily, father was to be with the ‘troops’ and wouldn’t be at home until late. So, we would be left in peace for a bit.

“Won’t Devlon get pissed your in here  unchaperoned with a male?” He’s almost hesitant in walking into the house, as if he’ll be run off for just walking in.

“Believe it or not, even though I’d rather stay in the house and raise kids than fight, I am allowed to make my own choices. Much to my father’s anger.” There’s just the smallest smile that graces his face, it lights up as he does.

“Is that why you don’t want to train? Because you would just rather keep house than be a warrior?” It’s as if he’s finally understanding me, finally realizing that everyone wants something different.

“I’m an only child, I always begged for siblings, always played with babydolls, or played house. My mother couldn’t have anymore kids, I never truly knew why I just know she couldn’t. Because of that, I spent most of my time playing ‘mom’ with different things and people. That’s all I wanted to be… Then my mother passed away after the war, that disease that passed through the camps, remember? The dreams of a sibling kind of… shattered, unless father remarries.

Then the High Lord became the High Lord, started changing the rules of the camps, trying to make change. Think what you want about my father, I know how he seems and gets viewed, but he’s always been like that distant in his own way. Cass, I wish I was one of the females of camp that wanted to train, he’d allow it if I truly wanted to, but I don’t. It’s not something I want for me, I want to be in the home taking care of people, raising kids if I get to have them. And if that’s not something you can accept… then I don’t know if there could be an… us.” I glance up towards him, and the most heartbroken look is on his face.

“I couldn’t care less if that’s what you truly want. I only cared because I thought you were being kept from what you wanted to do. I didn’t know you truly didn’t want to train, I thought you were being forced to keep house. That’s why I was pushing for it so much, that’s why I cared.” He still has the look on his face, as if I’ve killed his mate…. Wait….

“Earlier… you said something… about the night we… kissed. That you thought you felt something… What did you mean?” It’s like a white sheet has draped over him, his tan Illyrian skin lighting to an unhealthy look.

“It-it’s nothing. Just I don’t know Y/N we were drunk, but I just feel like-“ He’s twiddling with his fingers as I interrupt him. Something I never picture the general doing, the famed Prince of Bloodshed.

“It felt like something more? Something… in the making, or in the forming?” His hazel eyes make contact with mine, an almost knowing glint in them. Like he’s already thought that’s what it was, although there’s still a look of fear.

“I’m not sure if that’s what it is. The only experience I have with mates is Rhys’ parents’… and they weren’t… the best examples. I just know that night I felt something, and ever since then it felt like something’s been missing. Until we met again, and that feeling came back.” I chew on the corner of my lip, chewing on the skin some.

“So… are we mates?” That beautiful grin is back on his face, the color her lost coming back to the usual tan.

“I think we’re mates.”

Right as he says it, as if talking about it summoned it, that beautiful golden bridge is formed between us.

It’s been almost a week since the mating bond formed between us. Something that I’ve kept away from my father, which Cass has been in full support of. He has started to buy and give me courting gifts, which I can’t tell if my father noticed and is ignoring or not. Granted I did want to put feelers out at dinner tonight.

“Father?” I hope my tone isn’t as anxious as it sounds, but I fear it might be.

“What would you like Y/N?” He asks still reading the report he has in his right hand as he eats.

“Would....” How do I approach this? “Would it be okay if someone… started to court me?” This makes him pause mid-chew, and it’s then I start to wonder if maybe he is just slightly more male than I thought, than I saw.

“Is there a male in the camps courting you? Because if so, they should be coming to me for permission. Who is it?” Okay yeah maybe I shouldn’t have brought this up.

“I don’t think it’s actual courting, I just think someone has been giv-leaving gifts for me. Just little things that usually get seen as courting gifts. I just wanted your opinion on it father.” Simple, appeasing to his pride.

“I’m not sure which game you’re playing child, but if someone does wish to court you, then the proper way is through talking with me and allowing me to approve it. Are they a respectable male? The one leaving gifts.”

He doesn’t believe he’s respectable, but he’s more respectable than the males in camp. “What if they’re my mate? I know it’s rare, but if The Mother and Cauldron wished it, would you still accept them?”

My father stops chewing once again, as if getting tired of my questions during our usual meals. “You’ve been reading to many of those books again, haven’t you? They still need to speak with me if they wish to court you. Mating bond or not.” Okay so maybe he will accept Cassian then! “But if he is not a male of good standing, then it won’t be happening. I won’t have my child marrying some bastard, mating bond or not.” Shit.

“The books bring me joy father. Something to do once I’m done with my chores.” Entice my father with the sweet words for the females of his time, where we’re happy with doing chores. Which for me I am but still.

It wasn’t until hours later when I go meet Cass that I told him.

“How’d your father take it?” He asks, wrapping me up in his arms holding me close to him. The bond thumping along our chests, even unmated and it thrives with life.

“I chickened out… Don’t look at me like that! I asked how he’d feel if someone started courting me, and he said he wanted them to come to him to ask permission. So, I asked what if they were my mate. But he said if that was the case, even so rare it is, that he’d technically allow it, unless they weren’t in ‘good standing’.” Cass lightly pushes me slightly away from him to look at me.

“So, your father’s definitely not going to allow me to court you. My mate. I knew your father hated bastards but…” He sounds upset about the fact, which is understandable.

I look up and run a finger along the length of his nose, “You could always rescue me, be the amazing knight again and me being the maiden. Take me away to the Moonstone Palace safely tucked away.” He gets some kind of guilty look on his face at the mention of Moonstone Palace.

“Is that what you’d want? For me to take you away from your father, bring you back to my home with me?” he’s sincere in his question, and I know he’d do it in an instant.

“I wanted my father to approve. I wanted him to be okay with our relationship, with our eventual mating. To be happy for me that I was able to find a male that could care for me. Mates aren’t something that happened, let alone happen in these camps. But I’d never forgive him if he tried to keep me away from you.” And I wouldn’t. He’s my father and I’d do almost anything for him, like he’s done for me, but this is a chance at my happiness.

“I’ll see what I can do, speak with Rhys about seeing if there’s anything that can be done. If there’s a loophole.” He’s sweet and doesn’t even have to do what he plans to do. Really, he could just cut his losses and move on.

The issue was we were wrapped up in each other, we never even noticed the male watching from the shadows. So, when I awoke the next day, my bedroom door locked; I didn’t know what was to happen. Was even more shocked when I found my father in the corner of my room waiting.

“Are you fucking him?” It was all he said. Just like that my loving father was replaced with the male Lord of the camp.

“What?” No, seriously, what?

“Are you fucking that bastard?”

“Father what are you talking about? I haven’t been with anyone, you know this.” Really, all me and Cass have done is kiss. Yet that little brush of question down the bond from him makes me wonder if it could be seen as more.

“It’s been reported to me that you have been seen sneaking out. Then meeting that bastard born foot solider. So, I’ll ask you again. Are you. Fucking. That Bastard.” He’s pissed, I’m pissed that someone’s followed me to him. Because this is going to fuck over whatever plans me and Cass made.

The anger on his face makes me pull on the bond and send just the smallest rush of panic down the bond. Hopefully letting him know that somethings wrong, that I might need assistance. “Father, I don’t know what someone claims to have seen but they are wrong. You know I would never do that, compromise us like that. You’ve raised me better than that.” He didn’t necessarily raise me at all, my mother did. He just kept us alive in terms of money.

“So, the male is lying to me and your telling the truth?”

“Father, you have nothing to fear. You know I am waiting for your approval and marriage. It would be unladylike of me to not have my maidenhead before being married.” It’s not a lie, I do still have my maidenhead, but I am kind of sneaking around with Cass.

Speaking of who, responds with my earlier tug, with one of his own, and a questioning feeling down the bond. I tug back almost instantly, sending back reassurance but still a little push of panic. Hopefully getting the point across I need him.

“If that is the case you won’t care for me to go get the male and question him again. See which of you are lying.” He knows something. Either there’s actual evidence of me and Cassian sneaking around, or someone is trying to screw me. I’m not happy about either.

I just shrug in response, “I just planned on cleaning up around the house today. So, I’ll be here if you wish to ask me anymore questions.” I smiled at him kindly.

I need to figure out a way to get out of camp.

My fathers’ eyes just narrow at me, before his lip curls and he leaves the room completely. Not locking the door behind him thankfully.

It was only two hours later I heard a knock on the back door; a sharp tug following after telling me who it was. Picture my surprise when I let Cass in and the High Lord and Shadowsinger follow in behind him.

I start to try and bow but before I can even attempt to Cass pulls me into a hug. “What’s going on?”

I push back lightly, “Someone saw us the other night. When we met and talked about leaving. Someone had followed. Father thinks we’ve…” I stop, and glance at the other two before finishing.

The High Lord leans against the wall, the Shadowsinger joining him, “So he thinks you’ve slept with him and thus are basically worthless in terms of any marriage deals.”

My face rushes to a heated tint, and Cassian growls in response, “Rhys.” It’s a simple command he makes. Don’t speak about my maidenhead so casually.

“Do you know who the male was that reported seeing you guys?” It’s the Shadowsinger that speaks now.

I shake my head, “No, he locked me in my room, waited for me to wake then basically came and interrogated me. Just said someone reported to him that they watched me ‘sneak out’ then followed me and saw me meet up with Cass.”

He shares glances with the Lord and Cass, before Cass asks, “How pissed is he?”

“Well, I can almost guarantee that when he comes back later after questioning that male again it won’t be a happy dinner.”

Cassian runs a quick hand down his face, and it makes me feel bad that I’m putting him through this stress. As if noticing my feelings, the High Lord speaks.

“Devlon would be pissed no matter what. The Cauldron themselves could be your mate and he’d be upset. It does slightly complicate things, but this is an easy issue to solve.”

“Rhys. Don’t insinuate my mate is an issue.”

“Not what I meant, and you know it.”

“Az do you think you’d be able to intercept Devlon before he finds out to much information?” Cass asks, and before I can tell them it’s likely to late, he’s gone. Shadows hiding him away taking him… somewhere.

“Y/N, do you want to stay and see what happens or would you like to pack some stuff to leave?” The High Lord—Rhys, I guess is what I should call him now. Cass has told me enough about him I feel it’d be appropriate.

“Do you think it’s needed?” I don’t want to leave my home. It’s the home I was born and raised in, the home my mother lived and died in. The home I learned my purpose of life in.

Cassian answers instead, “Me and my brothers were talking. The three of us think it may be safer if you come with us. But… I’ll leave you with the option. The choice to see how your father reacts. We just think it’ll be safer if you come with us at the end of the day. We… we don’t know what Devlon will do once finding out we’re mates.”

I must look sad about that because Cass brings me closer, if possible, and his wings just slightly curl towards me. “He wouldn’t hurt me. He might be some type of monster but he’s still my father.”

Rhys answers for Cass, “It’s not that we think he’d intentionally hurt you, but he said it himself, he wouldn’t marry you to your mate if it wasn’t a… good match. But it wouldn’t be a happy life if you stayed. I know it’s a big ask, this is your home, all you’ve known. But I also know Cassian would be a lot happier if you were with him. Safe.”

Closing my eyes, I sigh because I know they’re right. I’d be happier in the long run with him. “I’ll go pack some things. Should I wait or just leave a note?” My voice is solemn.

Cassian and Rhys look at one another, but Cass answers, “I’d leave a note for now. We can always come back if you want to see if he’d like to make amends.”

And so, I do, I leave a simple note apologizing. Telling him that I was in fact still a maiden, even if he thinks I’m not. Tell him that Cass is my mate, and I couldn’t have a higher-ranking male as my husband. If he wishes to speak with me, he can send letters.

Other than that, I take my most prized possessions. Some of my mother’s jewelry, books, a few more odds and in’s I’ve collected in my few hundred years of living.

Then we left. So, I can be happy with my mate, and his family.

Author's Note:

This was going to be 5.6k words but last night I felt it needed just a little more angst because we all know Devlon would be pissed.

Like, comment, share/reblog.

dividers came from @firefly-graphics

DO NOT REPOST. I DO NOT GIVE PERMISSION FOR THIS TO BE POSTED TO ANY OTHER SITE.

#acotar #acomaf #acofas #acosf #acowar #a court of mist and fury #a court of silver flames #a court of frost and starlight #a court of thorns and roses #a court of wings and ruin #cassian x reader #cassian #cassian acotar #cassian x you #cassian x y/n #cassian x oc #acotar fanfic #acotar series #acotar x reader #acotar fanfiction #acotar fic #acotar imagine #acotar fandom #acotar writing #cassian imagine #illyrians #illyrian #night court #reader insert #acotar headcanon

[thisblogisaboutabook]

Cowboy Like Me - Part 1

Azriel x Reader

Azriel meets his match in a contract spy while attending a barge party in the Summer Court. Together, they are tasked to investigate rogue shipments coming into Prythian. Will they be able to tolerate each other? Will they fall in love along the way?

Inspired by the queens of my heart, Taylor Swift and Sarah J. Maas.

Part 2

Warnings: Language and some suggestiveness.

These functions were odious. Hundreds of elite fae from throughout Prythian gathering to spread gossip, exaggerate how deeply their coffers ran, and boast of their latest voyeurs in both the sheets and battlefields. Yet, amidst all of the cock measuring, bits of truth revealed themselves to those with the proper skill set. So yes, while odious indeed, a lucrative affair for me.

Tonight I’d found myself aboard a pleasure barge on the Adriatic Sea. Several High Lords accepted Tarquin’s invitation to a summer soirée honoring some milestone birthday of Cresseida’s. I couldn’t remember her age, I didn’t care honestly. The information I sought was of a more confidential manner.

Whenever any High Lords made their appearance at such gatherings, nobility from their respective courts came out in droves in hopes of rubbing elbows with the upper cress of their kingdoms. Minor lords sought advantageous matches for their heirs, esteemed merchants networked to expand trade routes, tittering courtiers cozied up to nobility in an effort to advance whichever cause they were pursuing that night.

A well-trained ear and eye lusted for occasions such as this. Those Minor Lords so easily letting details slip of their needs, allowing a glean of where their courts higher nobility were failing them. The merchants whispering confidential details of questionable consignments slipped in with their usual fare.

And the courtiers, it was too simple to read in between the lines of their oh-so-cryptic conversations. The courtiers of lesser nobility who hadn’t yet mastered the art of subtlety were easy to read, even easier to trade gossip with.

My glamour skills were exceptional. Some would call the statement arrogant, but it was truth. On top of my assets as a spy, my ability to work my way into high profile events with subtle changes to my hair, eyes, and scent made spying a lucrative profession.

A contact from Adriata’s Port Authority had contracted my services for tonight. A shipment of jewels, spices, and varying textiles procured from the continent had arrived days ago with fake gems, missing rolls of fine silk, and poison laced spices that had been set aside for the royal kitchens. I’d been tasked with garnering any information that may lead to the perpetrators.

Initially it was suspected that the act had occurred before leaving the port of origin. However, Tarquin’s own contacts had accounted for everything at the port and again halfway through sailing. I had my suspicions of who was behind the act which led me to my current position, pretending to be engaged in conversation with the pompous son of some Minor Lord from Dawn.

Honestly, how many “Oh”, “Wow”, and “That’s very interesting”’s could I throw into the conversation before he realized I wasn’t paying attention.

Yet, what I saw behind the male was quite interesting. Eris Vanserra making a rare Autumn Court appearance, far too casually winding through the crowd toward the High Lord of the Night Court as the lovely High Lady shared an animated story about, “Water Wolves”, whatever those were. The story just interesting enough to garner the attention of the surrounding audience long enough for the High Lord to stride off to a more secluded area toward the bow of the ship. The same place Eris had conveniently found himself at.

Feigning ill, I excused myself from the one-sided conversation. Quickly, I glamoured myself to look a bit more pale, and padded toward the bow. Fortunately there was a blind spot within earshot perfectly hidden by a few crates of spare items for the night should any dishwear or wines run out from the various tables spread around the barge. Keeping up my ruse I leaned over the rail, quietly dry heaving.

“All I’m saying is watch your shipments. An influx of boats have been reported leaving our ports recently. He’s up to something.” Eris’ hushed voice warned.

Oh, this was very interesting. Autumn’s heir apparent heeding warning to the Night Court.

The High Lord’s voice lowly inquired, “Do you know wh-“

The atmosphere suddenly turned dark as shadows swirled next to me. Raising from his perched position in the dark stood the High Lord’s spymaster.

Shit.

“Did the oaf you were speaking with bore you to sickness or is this washed out complexion a new glamour?”

Shit!

“People are staring, Shadowsinger. Are you going to ask me to dance or should we make a spectacle of ourselves?” I smirked cooly. Unsure of how I managed to pull off the collected facade in the face of the feared, and…. devastatingly gorgeous? Spymaster of the Night Court.

He smirked - a deadly, seductive smirk, extending his hand. This was a dangerous game. “My lady, honor me with a dance?”

I stepped toward him, aware of every weapon carefully placed underneath my silken cobalt blue dress. His shadows keenly aware of them too as they swirled around the location of each hidden sheath.

Oh, they were good.

His fingers gripped tightly atop the most easily accessible of my daggers, firmly pressed to my waist as a herringbone corset would be. His opposite hand gripped mine just tightly enough that it couldn’t slip free.

“You know, beautiful, it seems you’ve got a couple of weapons under your dress. You’re quite the double threat.” his face remained relaxed but those hazel eyes promised strife if I didn’t comply.

They stepped in rhythm to the Summer Court medley that played “It takes one to know one, handsome.”

He twirled me outward and pulled me back in before I could dare consider escaping. “I’m protecting my High Lord. Weapons come with the territory. Who are you serving?”

I batted my eyes innocently “I’ll serve you if you ask politely.”

I could have sworn the slightest shift in scent invaded my senses, “Ah, but you’re not a courtier, darling. You’re a spy. And I don’t take kindly to spies listening in on my courts affairs.”,

“Luckily for me, our interests seem to align.” I countered.

He dipped me back just in time to lock stares with the High Lord, stars twinkling in his eyes as he looked down at me, “Ah, brother. Who is your lovely dance partner?”

Once again,

Shit.

And then everything went black as we winnowed.

~~~~~~~~

“Welcome to the Hewn City - My name is Azriel. Care to share your name?”

“Elyse.” I lied.

Azriel stepped forward, “No dear, I don’t believe it is. Let’s not get off on a worse foot than we already have.”

I rolled my eyes. Fine. “Y/N.”

Good girl. He purred. The heat that pooled in my core at his tone was pathetic. Traitorous body.

“Why were you spying on Rhysand?”

I was a spy for hire. Being tortured in the name of Adriata’s Port Authority was not how I was going down. So I told him the truth.

“Adriata received a shipment with stolen goods and poison laced spices. I was simply seeking information on the matter.”

“And you felt that my High Lord was involved?”

I scoffed. “No, not exactly. While your High Lord is rather cunning, he’s not one to risk sparking a Civil War. Especially against his own ally.” I looked intently to the Spymaster with a smirk, “That bastard Eris Vanserra on the other hand…”

I could have sworn amusement briefly flashed in his eyes at the statement as he sat before me. “I’ve seen you at several functions recently. You are sly, I’ll give you that. But you have tells. The way your eyes wander off of those you are in conversation with. The slight lies you give the courtiers in an effort to bring their guard down and let information slip. Your glamours are excellent but not enough to disguise you once you’ve been spotted.”

Confusion swirled in my brain at this tactic. Certainly the willingness to share was an effort of bringing my guard down.

I stiffened. “Why are you telling me this?”

He raised an eyebrow “You shared information with me, I am simply returning the favor.”

“How generous of you , Azriel.” My tone was sharp. But his name… Oh how it tasted like honey on my tongue.

He shrugged. “This doesn’t have to be hard. Despite what you may have heard about me, I am a reasonable male. From what I’ve seen, up until tonight, you’ve never been a threat to those I’m allied with.”

I relaxed a bit at the statement. “You’ve watched me that closely?”

“What kind of spymaster would I be to not keep tabs on potential enemy spies?”

“I am not your enemy, Azriel.” Damn my tone for coming out so softly.

He looked at me earnestly, “I know.”

“Then why am I here?”

His gaze once again shifted to that of the infamous spymaster, “I want you to work with me.”

——————————————————————————

Thank you to everyone who voted in my poll and/or took the time to read this! I hope to post Part 2 this week. Stay tuned!

#cowboy like me #taylor swift #acotar #azriel x reader #azriel #azriel shadowsinger #x reader #sarah j maas #fanfic #fanfiction #a court of frost and starlight #a court of wings and ruin #a court of mist and fury #a court of silver flames #a court of thorns and roses #rhysand #feyre archeron #night court #summer court

[pearlescent-soda]

What 'Y/N' Sees Vs. What Wally Sees...

"Well, hello there new neighbor!~"

"HMMPH-MMPH!" (Help me!)

This is how I imagine 'y/n' arrives to the neighborhood, especially in Wally Darling x readers (Platonic or Romantic). Also Wally is President of the Home Owners' Association, @Partycoffin told me themself at brunch.

#welcome home #partycoffin #wally darling #welcome home x reader #welcome home fandom #barnaby b beagle #julie joyful #frank frankly #howdy pillar #poppy partridge #eddie dear #sally starlight #Welcome home meme #welcome home arg #fanfic #fanfiction #Meme #wally darling x reader #platonic or romantic

[acourtofwhatthefuck]

Hello, I'm so sorry that you're having a mopey day today :(( But honestly I'm having one today too... I would love to read some fluffy fic, maybe some teenage!Rhys×reader where they are acting like stupid teenagers in love. Or maybe something with Az where reader is a shadowsinger too and they are fooling around and using their shadows to prank the IC. I don't know, these are just some ideas that popped randomly in my head so don't feel pressured to write anything. Anyway wish you best and I hope you will feel better soon 💗

Thanks, lovie! 💕Hope this is okay and cheers you up a little! I feel like I’m not very good at fluff but I did my best 🤣 thank you for sending it in! Enjoy 💕

Forget Me Not — (Rhysand x Reader)

"You'll be High Lord someday."

"I will."

Rhysand rested his chin on your leg, violet eyes peering up at you. In the balmy evening light, he looked resplendent, the sun offsetting the golden hue of his skin. You found your fingers absentmindedly tracing the shape of his lips, the brush of his lashes.

"Things will change when you're High Lord." You brushed his floppy hair from his eyes. "We will change. Our relationship."

At just nineteen, it was hard enough to navigate such a serious, intense relationship. You hadn't expected to fall so madly in love a year earlier, when your court — the Summer Court — had received the High Lord of the Night Court and his son as guests; a plan, you'd learned, to strengthen the relations between the Solar Courts and Seasonal Courts. The High Lord's son, Rhysand, had been nothing but charming and chivalrous. But you hadn't expected him to so much as notice you, as a mere a servant to the High Lord of Summer. When you'd served Rhysand a drink, and those violet eyes had met yours like they were staring into your soul, you knew immediately — you would never want anybody as fiercely as you wanted him.

Too bad that he was a future High Lord, and you a nobody.

It had been unexpected, to say the least, that he'd sought you out. Asked you to show him around the court whilst his father and your High Lord engaged in dull meetings. He'd made you laugh and seemed genuinely interested in knowing you. And when he'd returned to the Night Court, he'd promised to come back and see you again.

Which he had. And thus had begun a year of secret meetings and the thrilling adventure of falling in love. You knew Rhysand's father would never approve. You knew Rhys would one day be in a charge of his court, and not have the luxury of sneaking off to see you for a few hours, sometimes an entire night.

There was a time limit on your relationship, and that thought had begun to plague you more and more recently.

Rhys reached out, pressing your hand against his cheek. "Change doesn't always have to be bad."

"It will be the worst kind of change if we can't see each other anymore."

Rhys sighed softly, rolling onto his back. You knew he didn't want to spend your precious time together talking about such things; neither did you. You wished you could stay like this forever, sprawled out in the sweet-smelling meadow that had become your place to meet him. The thought of this place being empty of your love, your laughter, your conversation, made you teary.

"Please don't cry, my love." Rhys scooted closer. He tugged you until you were slotting between his legs, his front pressed to your back. "Why are you letting this bother you now?

Tears dropped onto your lap as you glanced down. "This past year is the happiest I've ever been."

A kiss was pressed to your shoulder. "Me, too."

"But you will be a High Lord. And of a court I don't even live in. You will be the most important member of your court, and I'm nothing but a servant. I feel like soon enough, you're just going to forget me. That you ever loved me."

You felt the way his body went rigid against you. After a pause, his warm arms slid around your waist, his face burying into the crook of your neck. He seemed to inhale your scent slowly. Desperately.

"Do you truly think I could ever forget you?" He murmured. "I remember the first second I caught a glimpse of you. You were the most beautiful person I'd ever seen. Still are."

You gave a watery laugh. "So beautiful in my old, ratty clothes."

"Your hair was in a loose braid, and when you leaned down to serve me my drink, a strand came free of the plait. I felt so compelled to reach out and tuck it behind your ear. And I thought your eyes could give this court's sunrise a run for its money. So bright and brilliant. Your cheeks were flushed, and you smiled at every single person, despite most of them straight up ignoring you. You were the most exquisite person in that room, and I couldn't look away from you."

You turned slightly in his arms, just enough to meet his gaze. "You noticed all of those things?"

A lopsided smile tugged at his lips. "Why do you think I tried so hard to get a message to you that I wanted to meet with you? I couldn't let you walk away. At least not without learning your name first. I certainly didn't think I'd ever be lucky enough to have you love me back."

You studied his remarkable face, noting every emotion, every thought, that he wore freely. For nobody other than you. You'd memorised that face as much as you possibly could so that when he wasn't around, you could close your eyes and picture him. His brilliant smile. The way his eyes roved happily over you. Sometimes, you could lay in bed and hear his laugh.

"Just...just promise me." You pressed your forehead against his. "Promise me that one day, when you're High Lord...even if you can't be with me anymore, you won't forget me. I couldn't bear you forgetting me."

Rhys's strong hand moved up to cup your jaw. There was no chance to read the look in his eyes before he was leaning in and pressing his lips to yours.

The kiss started out gentle. Soft. The kind of tentative kisses you first shared in the early days of your relationship. Rhys's thumb brushed the line of your cheekbone, his mouth caressing yours.

But then his tongue was parting the seam of your lips and sliding into your mouth to intertwine with yours. Your mingling tastes had you sighing softly in satisfaction and angling yourself towards him further, one of your hands naturally reaching up to twine within the strands of his hair.

Somehow, you ended up in his lap, his lips working feverishly against yours in a hungry kiss. It was just the two of you in that meadow — the two of you and your love, that nobody — not even the High Lord of the Night Court — could take away from you. You would love him forever and always, no matter the distance, the social standing, the outside opinions.

Only when you were both panting for breath did Rhys tear his mouth from yours. You breathed heavily against each other's lips, your foreheads pressed together.

"Here." Rhys murmured deeply, quietly. "This is for you."

You pulled back just enough to glance down at the hand he held between you. You frowned down at the two tiny, blue flowers he pinched between his fingers. When he'd picked them, you weren't sure.

"A flower?" You were still battling to catch your breaths. "For me?"

"One for you and one for me." Rhys said. "They're Forget-Me-Nots. I'll spell them to forever stay fresh. And as long as we both have these, we know we'll never forget one another."

You blinked away tears as he tucked the flower into the strands of your hair, before leaning in to kiss you again.

"Always and forever, my heart." He whispered.

You nodded vigorously, cupping his cheek. "Always and forever."

#rhysand #rhysand x reader #high lord of the night court #rhysand acotar #rhysand fic #request #acotar #a court of thorns and roses #acotar fandom #acotar x reader #acotar writing #acotar fanfic #acotar headcanon #drabble #summer court #a court of mist and fury #a court of wings and ruin #a court of frost and starlight #a court of silver flames #reader insert

[kibagib]

Drew these two scenes for @starlightvld, and their wonderful story, Couch Surfing.

Go read it right now! It's finished, it's full of feels and it has a happy ending, it's what we deserve!

Really, it's been a pleasure to draw these two idiots in love <3

#ghostsoap #soapghost #ghoap #simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish #fanart #fanfic inspired #talented friends #my art #starlight's fanfic #they love each other your honor #no mohawk for johnny on the second pic #i know #but you need to read the fic to know why #wink wink

[starlight-library]

Opposites attract | MV1

pairing: max verstappen x technical theater!y/n (they/them)

summary: you visit max after a long tech weekend, which is in time for the miami gp

warnings: fluff, google translated dutch (so sorry), me geeking out about my profession, maybe accidental OOC??, suggestive

a/n: reader is AFAB gender neutral! request open! sorry in advance cause there's no proofreading, im dying like a man. also first time writing don’t kill me ❤️

wc: 1.3K

Tech was the best and worst time of the year. The best time since the actors, director, crew, and creative all come together to finally put the show together. The best time because the show is officially handed over to the stage manager. It was also the worst time because of such long hours, lots of hold, and the stage manager’s sanity is holding on by a thread.

The first day wasn’t so bad. You arrived at the theater at 8am. You found your table and laid everything out. Your ASM and PA, your life line and team members, made sure everything else was set up. The other technicians arrived at 9am as they stated on the schedule and finally actors arrived at 10am. You had everyone in a circle introducing themselves to the new group: name, pronouns, role, fun fact. Then the director stated you guys would be going from top of the show and this was your time and your rehearsal. It was long but quick.

The second and third day were killer though. It was painfully slow as techs were. You spend most of your day here. Stage managers were the first ones in and last ones out and this tech was a 10 out of 12 (breaks for lunch, obviously, but you spend literally 12 hours in a dark theater just stopping and going while they add lights, sound, props, costumes, etc.) What’s worse is because you’re running the show you have to stay on top of everything, unless an emergency of course.

That includes not being able to really talk to your boyfriend.

You and Max were very keen on communicating and checking in since both your jobs were so demanding. Sometimes you guys could talk for hours while others it was a simple ‘hi dear, hope you have a good day’ ‘hi schatje, hope you’re sleeping well’ but when you were in tech it was a miracle if you sent a good morning text to inform him you were alive.

It’s around one am when you arrive back to the housing provided by the theater. By the time you get ready for bed it’s one thirty. You’re exhausted and your body is so desperately craving the sleep it’s been lacking but you will yourself to check your phone.

10 am:

Good morning, schatje ❤️. I hope you have a good day at tech today.

12pm:

Make sure you eat something today, please. I know how busy things can get sometimes. I’ll send you money to eat. I cannot believe the theater isn’t providing food for you or the crew. I can call them and give them a piece of my mind.

3pm:

Why did tech have to land on this weekend? It’s different with you not here. Are you watching at least?

…you know I can pay for you. You don’t have to work if you don’t want.

5pm:

Practice was okay. The random rain shower made things interesting for sure. Not my best time but I managed.

I miss you.

10pm:

I love you Schatje. I’m going to head to bed. Wish you were here with me. ❤️

Your heart pulls reading the messages. You quickly type out a few replies to Max:

Hi darling, I’m okay Yes, I made sure I ate today. No you don’t have to call the theater. It’s fine.

That’s called a sugar baby, darling. Not that I wouldn’t mind… I miss you too. I wish tech was over already so we could talk more :(

Well that’s Florida for you. But I’m sorry. I bet you still did amazing. I love you too. I’ll talk to you soon love, sleep well ❤️

You put your phone down after and let yourself drift off to sleep.

—————————————

“Alright Jonathan, I’ll talk to you later…bye now.”

Pocketing your phone when the conversation ends, you shuffle around your room as you get dressed. You’re thankful practice and qualifiers are late in the day giving you the extra sleep you need. Checking yourself out in the mirror, you do a spin. Sneakers, skirt, and one of the many fan designed Red Bull shirts you bought. This one was based off of Taylor’s Swift ‘Eras Tour’ but instead had pictures of your boyfriend and said ‘Verstappen’ instead. Grabbing your sunglasses, bag, and paddock pass you triple checked everything before heading off on your adventure.

Arriving to the paddock you easily scan in and navigate your way through. You keep your head down eyes glued to your phone and nobody really bats an eye to you. Thank god. You didn’t want the surprise to be ruined. Your eyes scan before you find the Red Bull garage. You slow your steps as you scan the garage not spying your boyfriend. A frown pulls to your lips as you step in, sunglasses being pushed to rest on the top of your head as you find Christian.

“Christian,” you call out with a smile as the principal turns. You make your way over and give him a quick hug.

“Oh Y/N,” Christian says and you see relief wash over him, “thank god you’re here. Max has been a fucking terror so far.” The remark makes you laugh, “I’m serious! He’s been extra grumpy since we arrived. I had to threaten to ban you from the garage to get him to tone it down. Handle him. Please.”

“I will when I find out exactly where he is.”

“Driver’s room.”

“Thank you. Promise he’ll be ready for tomorrow.”

“He better!” You hear Christian call out as you leave the garage. It does not take you long to find Max’s room and you know on the door.

You hear some shuffling and swearing in Dutch before the door swings open. You’re met with a “what?” and a scowl which causes you to smile brightly. “Fancy seeing you here,” you tease and watch Max’s scowl fall as it takes him a moment to process before you’re yanked forward.

You crash into his chest and laughs. Wrapping your arms around his neck, you bury your face in the crook of his neck as he hugs you tightly. He pulls away as he cups your face.

“I—schatje! What are you here? I thought you were working all weekend?”

“Between rehearsal and tech, we reached 42 hours. Jonathan said it wasn’t worth calling equity up to try and get overtime. So, he gave us the weekend off,” you beam and burst into laughter as he smothers your face in kisses, smiling widely.

“I’ve heard you’ve been very grumpy these past few days,” you remark through giggles.

“I have,” he replies bluntly, “you’ve been so busy and this Grand Prix has been testing my patience,” it’s his turn to bury his face in the crook of your neck. Your eyes flutter close and you let a breathy sigh escape feeling his lips leave feathery kisses along your neck.

“Max..”

“Missed you,” Max mumbled through kisses as he works his way up your neck to your jaw, “missed my good luck charm on my arm,” he kisses along your jaw, “missed having you wait for me in my driver’s room,” he makes his way up to your bottom lip and nips, “we have so much catching up to do..”

Turning your head away, giggling, “you have practice and qualifiers to get through first, mister,” You say earning a very small pout from the Dutchman, “how about, you place top five for qualifiers and I’ll spend the night at your hotel.” You let a finger gently trail long his jaw, down his neck, and to his chest before he drops.

Max follows your finger eyes darkening as he sticks his tongue out slightly to lick his bottom lip. Looking back up at you, “and if I get pole?”

Smiling innocently, you bat your lashes, “why do you think I wore a skirt?” A voice rings out for Max. Max groans as he squeezes you. He leans down to kiss your cheek before murmuring in your ear, “I expect you back here after qualifiers, bent over, skirt up for me.”

A shiver runs down your spine. He smirks and you want to wipe that smirk off his face. The voice is closer and you quick Max a quick peck with a grin, “good luck, sweetheart.” You purr softly and turn out of his grasp and disappear to the motorhome to enjoy the last few hours of your ability to walk.

#starlight library presents; #mv1 imagine #mv1 x reader #mv1 fic #mv1 x theater partner #starlight library fiction #max x technical theater partner #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen imagine #formula 1 imagine #f1 imagine #f1 reader #f1 fanfic #max verstappen smut #mv1 smut

[geminiwritten]

i’m yours ; billy butcher

fandom: the boys

pairing: billy x reader

summary: you find out that butcher slept with maeve, and attempt to ignore your feelings by going m.i.a. and going home with a complete stranger, only to awake the green-eyed monster living inside of butcher

preface: this isn’t set in canon timeline, it’s basically just using the bit where butcher sleeps with maeve as a bit of a jealousy catalyst

notes: this man has a hold on me... and i feel like this got a little rushed at the end but i still kind of like it, please let me know what y’all think! (also, i’m sorry all my stuff has the same formula, i promise i’m trying to mix it up!)

warnings: a lot of swearing, the ‘sewer-slide’ word, google-translated french, sexual content, and some soft smut

word count: 5315

Things are good, too good, but you’re doing your best not to look a gift horse in the mouth. Hughie and Annie are happy, MM is content, and Frenchie is excitedly creating new methods of blowing up Supes almost daily. Butcher is… well, Butcher. He’s grumpy and brash, but seems to be feeling a little more positive lately, focusing more on recon and intel rather than running in with guns blazing.

For the first time in what felt like a lifetime, you had managed to go grocery shopping without anyone stumbling home bloody and bruised. Frenchie is humming along to the song that had been playing on the radio, carrying most of the plastic bags while MM carries one with you on his back. You were all in such high spirits that he had let you jump on his back at the bottom of the apartment stairs, carrying you up four flights as if you weighed no more than a hiking backpack.

Frenchie chuckles at the two of you as he unlocks the apartment door, entering first and pushing it open all the way. You have to duck a little, giggling and holding on to MM for dear life as he starts jogging toward the couch. He drops the bag on the floor before falling into the sofa, and you squeal as he squashes you.

“Hey,” you exclaim, still laughing, “what the fuck? Steeds don’t sit on their riders!”

“You want to ride me next, petit ange?” Frenchie calls from the kitchen.

You writhe until MM moves, standing up with a satisfied grin across his lips. You flip him your middle finger as he turns away, ushering Frenchie out of the kitchen so he can put the groceries away. You find the TV remote buried in the couch cushions, and just as the old screen flickers to life, Kimiko emerges from the hallway. She looks at Frenchie with a small smile, signing hello before her nose crinkles, and she signs another sentence you struggle to catch as your attention is called toward the master bedroom doors.

Frenchie frowns curiously, “She says that it smells in here.”

“Yeah, ‘cause you lot are stinkin’ up my fuckin’ apartment,” Butcher says, running a hand through his hair.

He looks like shit. His shirt is wrinkled and the buttons are fastened crookedly, his hair is standing up in all directions, and the circles beneath his eyes are several shades darker than usual.

“It is our apartment, Butcher,” Frenchie states, “it is the least you can after making me blow up my last two places, eh?”

Butcher rolls his eyes before dropping into one of the dining room chairs, holding his face in his hands as he takes several deep breaths.

Frenchie looks to Kimiko again before translating, “She says it smells like alcohol and sweat, and a perfume that she has not smelt before.”

“I don’t wear perfume,” you note, “every time we have to haul ass and run, the bottles end up broken or missing, so I gave up.”

MM raises his hands in defence, “Don’t look at me, I haven’t seen anyone but you lot in the past twelve hours.”

“Perhaps it is something we picked up at the shops,” Frenchie shrugs.

Kimiko signs again, and you watch her to listen.

“You can smell a stranger?” you ask with a frown.

“To reiterate,” MM says, “I stayed at a motel alone last night, I was too tired to drive all the way here after visiting Janine.”

“I stayed with Annie,” you point out, “is that who you can smell?”

Kimiko shakes her head, and your heart begins to race anxiously. Neither she nor Frenchie stayed here last night either, opting for one of his old hideouts after scouring the city for any possible missed traces that Vought could use to find you all.

MM turns to Butcher, “Was there someone here last night?”

“Why would you not tell us that there was a break in?” Frenchie demands, his face a mixture of irritation and concern.

Butcher sighs, “There wasn’t a fuckin’ break in, calm down.”

Kimiko pads quietly around the room, subtly sniffing the air around MM and then Frenchie before moving toward you. She inhales above your head and grimaces, before moving to the side and taking a deep breath over the couch.

You shoot up from your seat and stumble toward the kitchen, “Me or the couch?”

She points at the sofa.

“Butcher,” MM says, his voice demanding, “explain before I slap your hungover ass.”

Its only then that you notice the two empty bottles of whiskey, one on the coffee table and one laying on the floor. You back up slowly toward the kitchen, a fresh wave of panic washing over you.

“Someone stopped by,” Butcher mutters into his hands, “that’s all.”

You reach the kitchen bench at the same time Kimiko does, still sniffing like a police dog, and her face twists into a disgusted frown. You startle again, jumping back from the bench as if it had burnt you.

“Care to elaborate?” MM presses.

Butcher sighs, and you can feel a lump growing in your throat.

“We all sleep here too, Butcher,” Frenchie states, “and we deserve to know if it is still safe to do so.”

“‘Course it’s fuckin’ safe,” Butcher says, finally turning his head to face the room. “Maeve came by, alrigh’? Just her, ‘n’ she had some information, so we had a chat and a drink. Is that alrigh’ with you nosey bastards?”

A weight drops in your stomach, anchoring you to the floor as moisture begins to blur your vision.

Kimiko stops sniffing when she reaches Butcher, cringing and stumbling several paces back until she is beside Frenchie.

“You slept with a Supe?” MM gasps.

Butcher huffs and pushes himself up from the chair, “No fuckin’ privacy with you lot, is there?”

MM raises his hands again, “Hey, I’m not judging, just shocked.”

Frenchie’s concern melts into taunting smirk, “No need to be defensive, Monsieur Charcutier, we all have our needs, and I am surprised that you managed to woo such a beautiful woman.”

“Fuck off, Frenchie,” Butcher sighs, dragging his feet toward the fridge.

Their voices blur into white noise as you focus on the slow inhale and exhale of your breath. You wriggle your toes in your boots, forcing yourself to feel your physical body instead of the whirlwind of emotions swirling through your head. It feels like your skull is fracturing with the effort that it takes to contain the storm, but you refuse to let your feelings win. You find a bottle and push them inside, jamming the cork in just as Frenchie snaps his fingers in front of your nose.

You blink, “What?”

“Are you okay?” he asks, a soft crease between his brows.

“Yeah, sorry,” you blink again to quell your watery eyes, “what’s up?”

“Are you hungry?”

You glance over his shoulder at Butcher, his head in the fridge as he ignores MM’s demands to get out of the way.

“Not really,” you reply, “I was actually thinking about going back over to Annie’s, I think I forgot my… my socks.”

The concern between Frenchie’s brows deepens, “You forgot your socks?”

You nod, “My favourite socks.”

“Didn’t know you had favourite socks,” Butcher mumbles as he steps out of the kitchen.

“You don’t know a lot of things,” you state, plastering on a smile that you know doesn’t reach your eyes.

You can feel their curious gazes on you as you turn, retrieving your wallet and keys from the couch before striding out of the apartment door without a second glance. You pull your phone out of your pocket and text Annie to let her know that you’re on your way before switching it to ‘do not disturb’ and zipping it inside your jacket pocket, determined to forget about it until you’ve got a handle on your emotions.

The sun is setting by the time you reach the familiar street on which Hughie and Annie’s apartment is located, and you’re rather proud of the fact that you managed to focus on nothing but your steady steps the whole way here. You look up at the brick building on your left, but instead of turning toward the front steps, your feet carrying you across the street toward the park, not stopping until you’re standing in front of an empty bench.

“Something wrong with that one?” a voice asks, and you startle toward the source of it.

A young man is standing beside you, clad in running shorts and a tight exercise jacket. He doesn’t look menacing, but your whole body tenses as your fight or flight instincts battle for dominance.

“I’m sorry?”

He chuckles, “The bench, I mean. You’re frowning at it as if it’s diseased or something.”

“Oh,” you look back at the moss-ridden seat, “no, I just- I don’t know.”

“Are you alright?”

He buries his hands in the pockets of his jacket, and you let yourself relax, deciding that he isn’t a threat, just an overly friendly stranger.

“I’m fine, sorry,” you sigh, “just had a weird day.”

“That’s nothing to apologise for,” he says, sitting on the bench and looking up at you. “I know the feeling.”

You sit beside him, watching his side profile and slowly realising how attractive he is. His hair is cropped short, shorter than you usually liked, but his eyes are a stunning green and the faint shadow of stubble across his jaw is definitely something you can appreciate.

“Do you often approach strangers in the park?” you ask.

He laughs again, his eyes sparkling under the orange sky, “No, not really, especially not strangers as gorgeous as you.”

You blush at the ground, deciding to focus on your fraying shoelaces rather than the handsome stranger.

“But I figured,” he goes on, “that if I didn’t ask this pretty girl if she was okay, I might not be able to stop thinking about her for the rest of my life.”

You actually giggle, immediately cursing yourself for being so easy, “That’s a long time.”

“I know, right? I didn’t fancy the risk, and hey,” he smiles at you, “looks like it might have been worth it.”

“Maybe,” you smile back, “I’m Y/N, by the way.”

“Nate.”

You’re not sure if you’re an idiot or if you’ve just given up on your own personal safety, but you sit and talk to Nate until the sun is well below the horizon. You learn that he’s a journalist and a dog person, and lately he’s been more afraid of Supes than comforted by their presence. You tell him you’re a freelancer, because it isn’t technically a lie, and that you’re in between gigs at the moment but questioning whether you’re really doing what you want to be doing. Also, not a lie.

“I know that this is probably very forward,” he says, his knee bouncing nervously, “but did you want to come back to my place for a drink? I would suggest a bar, but I’m not really dressed for it, and I just get this feeling that as soon as we say goodbye, you’re going to disappear forever.”

You frown, “You’re a real long-term guy, aren’t you?”

His cheeks flush pink, “I don’t have to be.”

As you walk alongside the man you met mere hours ago, you come to the conclusion that you must be suicidal. In the current state that the world is in, who in their right mind goes home with a complete stranger? You, apparently.

His apartment isn’t far from the park, which is a little comforting, knowing that you will have a speedy escape to Annie’s place if this guy does end up being a psycho serial killer. The buildings all look the same as you approach a row of tall brick blocks, climbing the few concrete steps up to the lobby doors before scaling three flights to reach his apartment door.

It’s surprisingly well decorated inside, and you can eye a few expensive items that make you wonder if he really is a struggling journalist, or perhaps a shady underground arts dealer. You take a seat at the kitchen bench as he babbles about how crappy his landlord is and how much money he’s had to spend on the place to make it liveable. The glass of wine he places in front of you is gone within two gulps, and he happily pours you another.

“I feel like I probably should have asked this a few hours ago,” he says with a sheepish smile, “but you aren’t with anyone, are you? Engaged or married, or anything like that.”

You choke on your mouthful of cheap wine, coughing the burn away while he hurries to get you a glass of water.

“No,” you finally reply, “I’m not, at all.”

“Good,” he replies, his earnest grin returning, “I mean, it’s surprising because you’re incredible, but I’m glad.”

You offer him a smile that you hope appears coy and not at all forced before drinking down the rest of your second glass of wine. He moves into the lounge room, and you take the opportunity to pour yourself another generous glass, quickly swallowing the two mouthfuls left in the bottle while his back is still turned. You gingerly place the empty bottle in the sink before following him, dropping onto the soft leather couch as he turns on the television.

A news broadcast lights up the screen, and fiery images of a truck collision flash behind the breaking news banner that reads: ‘QUEEN MAEVE SAVES THE DAY’. Your stomach twists into a knot as the bottle of emotions you had managed to almost forget about begins to break, the glass fracturing and threatening to send you into a full-blown mental breakdown.

“Damn,” Nate sighs, “I know the Supes are pretty sketchy these days, but Queen Maeve is just gorgeous.”

With one last burning gulp of wine, you turn to the man beside you and take his head between your hands, crushing your lips against his. He gasps, but responds quickly, his hands finding your hips and guiding you onto his lap.

The rest of the night is a blur as you attempt to give all of your attention to this stranger that you barely know instead of confronting the green-eyed monster roaring in your belly. He finishes once on the couch, pretty quickly, but you’re not one to judge, before you drag him into the bedroom and away from the incessant news broadcasts of Queen Maeve’s heroic act.

It isn’t your alarm that wakes you, or the sound of Frenchie and MM arguing about how to cook eggs, but rather the unfamiliar scent that douses your breath. Your body trembles with anxiety and your eyes snap open, darting around the strange room as your thoughts scramble to remember how you got here.

“Fuck,” you sigh at the sound of someone snoring beside you.

You gently roll over and slip out of the sheets, cold air immediately nipping at your naked body. You find the nearest item of clothing and slip it over your head before tiptoeing out of the bedroom and into the lounge room. Nerves and hunger mingle inside of your stomach, making you overwhelmingly nauseous by the time you find your jacket thrown over the back of the couch.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” you mutter as you retrieve your phone from the pocket.

Dozens of missed calls and text messages fill your lock screen, several from Annie and Frenchie, a couple from Hughie and MM, but the majority of them listed under Butcher’s contact name, ‘Big Willy’. You thought it was funny a few days ago.

You quickly text Annie that you’re okay, you’re incredibly sorry, and that you’ll fill her in as soon as you see her. You find your jeans and wriggle into them before finding your panties and tucking them into your back pocket. You scoop your bra and your shirt off the floor on your way to the kitchen, and check your phone again for a reply from Annie. Nothing yet.

You drink the glass of untouched water from the kitchen bench before splashing your face and trying to calm the vibration of nerves coursing through your body.

“Hey.”

You startle at the sudden voice, turning to find Nate in nothing but sweatpants as he emerges from the bedroom.

“Hey,” you murmur.

He frowns, “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I-I’m fine, just- uh, my friends have been calling me,” you gesture to your phone, “and they’re pretty worried.”

“Oh,” he lets out a long breath, “I didn’t even hear it ringing last night.”

You smile weakly, not bothering to explain that you were intentionally avoiding your phone all afternoon.

He steps forward, “So, did you-”

The apartment door bursts open, splinters of wood scattering across the floor as you squeal and Nate jumps away from the blow. Your heart is racing, but your body reacts as it was trained to do, and you dive for a knife from the block beside the stove before freezing as you recognise the figure stalking through the broken door.

“Butcher,” you say, “what the fuck?”

His head snaps toward you, the crease between his brows softening and his eyes looking almost vulnerable as realises that it’s you.

“I’m sorry, but who the fuck are you and why did you just break my door?” Nate speaks up.

Your stomach sinks as Butcher’s attention is turned toward the shirtless man, murderous intent returning to his face.

“Who the fuck am I?” he spits, “Who the fuck are you?”

Nate looks tiny compared to Butcher, his narrow frame absolutely dwarfed by Butcher’s broad height and intimidating stance.

“I-I’m Nate,” the smaller man says, “and this is my apartment, that’s my door that you just destroyed.”

“Yeah?” Butcher taunts, stalking forward, “An’ what’re you gon’a do ‘bout it?”

Nate looks at you, his eyes frantic and begging for help.

“Butcher, calm down, he’s-”

“Calm down?” he whirls toward you, “You want me to fuckin’ calm down?!”

“Hey, man,” Nate says, “we can talk, you don’t have to-”

“Nate,” you put your hand up, “I’m sorry, but please shut up.”

“Nate,” Butcher repeats mockingly, “if you value your life, I’d listen to ‘er.”

You drop the knife on the bench, “Butcher, can we just leave, please?”

“You don’t get to make any requests right now, sweethear’,” he says, taking a heavy step toward you, “not after the shit you put me through for the past twelve fuckin’ hours.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” he drawls sarcastically, “maybe ‘bout the fact that you fuckin’ disappeared! You didn’t answer your damn phone, didn’t tell anyone where you fuckin’ were! I got a call from Hughie askin’ if you were back home, ‘cause you texted Annie ‘n’ told her you were comin’, but didn’t fuckin’ show up!”

A pebble of guilt drops into your stomach, but you ignore it, squaring up to him with a scowl.

“So?” you shrug, “I’m an adult, I can do as I fucking please.”

“Not without tellin’ me!” he exclaims, “Not if I don’t know where you fuckin’ are or if you’re even fuckin’ alive!”

“You’re not my fucking father, Butcher!” you shout back, feeling another fissure in the bottle of emotions. “I don’t belong to you, I don’t have to ask you for permission to live my own fucking life!”

His jaw twitches, a tidal wave of emotion crashing through his eyes all too quickly for you to try and discern any of them.

“A-Are you Y/N’s boyfriend?” Nate asks timidly.

You and Butcher turn to him in unison, exclaiming at the same time, “No!”

A beat of silence passes, and Butcher’s glare doesn’t falter. You take a deep breath to try and sooth the storm of frustration threatening to consume you.

“Butcher,” you say softly, “can we please leave?”

His head snaps back toward you, his eyes scanning your body as they fill with realisation.

“Did you fuck her?” he asks, turning back to Nate.

He doesn’t respond, his mouth hanging open as he takes several steps back.

“You gon’a answer me?”

“Butcher,” you say again, “cut it out.”

He takes another menacing step toward Nate, “I asked you a question.”

“W-We slept together, yes,” Nate stammers.

The laugh that leaves Butcher’s lips is chilling, sounding almost mad.

“Oh, pardon my French,” he says, “perhaps I should’a asked if you made sweet fuckin’ love to this gorgeous woman right ‘ere.”

“For fuck’s sake!” you shout, “Stop it, stop whatever the fuck this is, and let’s just fucking go!”

“You’re tellin’ me that you fuckin’ disappeared so you could hide out with this fuckin’ twat?” Butcher exclaims, “You let me worry myself fuckin’ sick so you could get a lousy fuck?”

The bottle explodes, shards of glass cutting you from the inside and sending white hot waves of frustration and anger, and despair rolling through your body.

“I can fuck whoever I want, Butcher!” you scream, startled by the volume of your own voice.

His eyes narrow, but his lips don’t move.

“And you can fuck whoever the fuck you want,” you spit, “obviously.”

You snatch your phone off the bench and stomp toward the door, turning to Nate with an apologetic smile. “I’m sorry, about… this.”

You continue down the hall and the three flights of stairs, not bothering to check if Butcher is following until you’re outside. The temperature is significantly lower than it was yesterday, but your stubbornness doesn’t let you show it as Butcher strides past you toward the car haphazardly parked at the curb.

You climb into the passenger’s seat, sitting as close as you can to the door and hugging your clothes against your chest as you stare out the window. Tears fill your eyes, your nose growing hot and your cheeks undoubtedly red as you use every ounce of self-control you still have to stave of the inevitable. All you need to do is make it home and make it to your bedroom, and then you can cry. You can curl up with your face in your pillow and sob, and admit that you’re jealous, that you’re hurt, and that you love a man who doesn’t even understand the meaning of that word anymore.

“You look like shit,” he grunts.

You sniffle, keeping your face turned away from him, “So do you.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t get much fuckin’ sleep,” he says as the car comes to a halt, “I was up all night worryin’ ‘bout whether or not you were fuckin’ alive.”

“Well, I didn’t get much sleep either,” you retort, before pushing the passenger door open and stumbling out.

You hear the car door slam as you hurry up the stairs and into the building, taking the steps two at a time until you reach the apartment door. To your great relief, it’s unlocked, and you let yourself in before Butcher has even made it into the hallway.

“Oh, my goodness, mon amour,” Frenchie gasps, “you’re alive! You’re okay… are you okay?”

You don’t realise your crying until you try to look at him, your vision blurred by heavy tears as they fall in fat droplets down your cheeks.

MM steps forward, “What happened?”

“Nothing,” you wipe your eyes with the back of your hand, “I’m fine, I was with a-a friend.”

“A friend?” Butcher echoes, the door slamming behind him.

Your blood sizzles in your veins, heated by the overwhelming frustration coiling in your chest.

“How the fuck did you know where I was?” you demand, spinning around to face him.

He doesn’t answer.

“Do you have my fucking phone bugged?”

Butcher blows a long breath out of his nose, the thick vein in his neck throbbing under his red skin. “Look,” he says, “I know that whatever the fuck just happened wasn’t ideal, but why can’t you fuckin’ see this from my point of view?”

“Our point of view,” MM corrects, “we were all worried.”

“I get that!” you exclaim, “I fucking understand that, but what I don’t understand is why Butcher is still acting like such a fucking cunt. You can see that I’m fine! I’m alive, so what’s your problem?”

“What’s your problem?” he snaps, “Why didn’t you answer your fuckin’ phone? Why didn’t you tell anyone where you fuckin’ were? And why the fuck did you go home with a complete fuckin’ stranger?”

“Oh, shit,” Frenchie murmurs.

“Maybe I just needed a fucking break.”

The room falls quiet, the only sound being Frenchie’s soft footsteps as he backs away. You use the clothes in your arms to wipe the fresh fall of tears from your cheeks and try to ease your shaky breaths as you wait for another onslaught of reprimands.

Butcher sighs, “Go shower.”

“What?”

“You need to shower,” he says, stepping forward.

You frown, “Why?”

“You look like shit, and you sm-” he stops himself, pausing when you take a small step back.

“I look like shit and I smell,” you finish for him, “thanks, Butcher.”

You drag your feet toward the bathroom, dropping your clothes on the floor and staring at your wrecked face in the mirror. Your hair is a mess and your face is blotchy and red, with streaks of black painting your cheeks. The shirt hanging loosely from your shoulders is unfamiliar, and something akin to disgust settles in the pit of your stomach.

“Give me your clothes,” Butcher says as he appears in the reflection behind you.

“Why can’t you just fucking leave me alone?”

He sighs, “I’m tryin’ to help.”

“I don’t want your fucking help,” you turn to him and lean against the vanity, “go offer it to someone else. I’m sure Maeve would love to see your fucking name pop up on her phone.”

His frown disappears, and you can feel the air shift. Fuck. Now you’ve done it. The shards of glass sticking you from the inside have cut right through your chest, slicing it open as your ribcage cracks and unfolds, presenting your pathetic heart to the man who already held it in his hands.

“Fuck,” he mutters.

Tears sting your eyes, but you blink them back with determination.

“I-Is that what this is-” he struggles for words, running his hands through his hair, “for fuck’s sake, Y/N.”

Your breath comes and goes in short gasps, the lump in your throat crushing your windpipe as it demands to be felt.

“For fuck’s sake!” he exclaims, before taking one step forward and slamming the bathroom door shut.

Fear sparks through you, and you whimper, “Butcher, please don’t-”

Before you can finish, he pulls you against his chest, his arms wrapping around you in a vice hold as he rests his chin on the top of your head. You sob into his shirt, tremors wracking your exhausted body as every bit of fear and frustration tears you apart from the inside. You’re not sure how you let yourself get this emotional. Maybe it’s the fact that the world is falling apart, and you’re supposed to act like you’re ready to save it? Or maybe it’s because you’re fucking tired of having everything you love ripped away from you, every chance you think you might have at happiness taken from you by the cunts in the sky who call themselves ‘Superheroes’.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, “I’m so fuckin’ sorry.”

The turbulence inside of you quells simply because you finally acknowledged it, and you manage to swallow the lump in your throat.

“Butcher,” you croak, looking up at him through tear laced lashes, “kiss me?”

He hooks a finger beneath your chin and tilts it up, leaning in to meet you the rest of the way before his lips brush yours. It’s hesitant and soft, barely a touch, and he pulls away too soon.

“You need to shower.”

“Oh,” you try to wriggle out of his arms, but they’re too strong.

“I can smell that fuckin’ twat all over you,” he growls, “an’ it’s makin’ me fuckin’ sick.”

Realisation slaps you across the face, giving you the strength to remember how to hold yourself up as he pulls away. His fingers curl into the material at the neck of your shirt, ripping it apart right down the middle before pushing it off your shoulders and tossing it on the floor.

Another growl rumbles through his chest and the air in the room shifts again, now thick with a tension that has your heart throbbing in anticipation. Your mind races, your thoughts riding rollercoasters as you struggle to catch up with his fast hands. Your jeans are unbuttoned and pooled around your ankles in less than a second, and he takes another moment to devour your naked body before moving to turn on the shower.

You stumble out of your jeans as he quickly sheds his own clothes before wrapping an arm around your waist. He pulls you under the warm stream of water and holds your body against his, the feeling of his bare skin making your head spin. He takes the bottle of bodywash from the small shelf and pops the cap with one hand, turning it upside down and squirting a ridiculous amount all over your chest and his.

You giggle and he grins, returning the bottle to the shelf before crushing his lips against yours. The soap makes your skin slide against his in the most delicious way and you can feel your core clench, eliciting a wanton moan from your open mouth. His tongue swipes across your bottom lip before pushing into your mouth and claiming you with hungry, sloppy kisses.

“Didn’t think you’d be jealous,” he murmurs against your mouth, “didn’t think you fuckin’ cared about me.”

You slide your hands across his bare shoulders and behind his neck, finding purchase in his wet hair and tugging gently as you kiss him with every ounce of passion that you have.

“I do care,” you sigh when his lips leave yours to lap at your neck, “I am fucking jealous.”

“Sweethear’,” he whispers, his hands moving to your breasts, “you’ve got nothin’ to be fuckin’ jealous ‘bout.”

His mouth leaves your skin as he turns you to face the wall, pressing his body against your back before pushing you into the tiled wall. You gasp first at the sudden cold, and then at the feeling of him grinding himself against your ass.

“I’m yours,” he growls, his lips against your shoulder, “always fuckin’ have been.”

You still manage to speak despite the pleasure of him threatening to overwhelm you. “Then why?”

One hand wraps gently around your throat while the other splays across your lower belly, teasing the place just below that aches for his touch.

“‘Cause I never fuckin’ dreamed that I’d have you,” he says, his lips at your ear now.

You reach back with one hand, holding the nape of his neck as you turn so that your mouth can meet his in a messy kiss.

��You’ve always had me,” you murmur, “I belonged to you the day I met you.”

His hips buck against your ass, pressing you against the wall and making you whimper.

“You’re mine,” he says, moving back just enough for you to turn around.

You nod as you lean down to kiss his neck. Your tongue laving at his wet skin before your teeth sink in and he hisses, one hand squeezing your hip as the other smacks against the tiled wall.

“All yours.”

You place your hands against his chest, pushing him back enough for you to drop to your knees, your hands trailing down his body until they reach his hips. You dig your fingers in and look up at him through your wet lashes.

“Show me who I belong to.”

END.

#billy butcher #billy butcher x reader #butcher x reader #the boys #karl urban #frenchie #mm #mothers milk #hughie campbell #starlight #queen maeve #homelander #oneshot #one shot #imagine #fanfic

[scorpioriesling]

Ideal Mate + Ideal Date HC

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *

Pairing(s): Reader x Rhysand / Cassian / Azriel / Lucien / Eris / Tamlin

Warnings: fluff, some light allusions to smut and brief suggestive scenes, light swearing

Summary: Headcannons/drabbles for (my idea!) what the "ideal" mate for each character is, with an ideal date for the two of them as well.

SR’s Note: Just another little idea I had, pls don't hate on me <3

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *

Rhysand

You would have to catch his eye because you're "different" in some way from other females

Whether it is because you are human, you are creative, you are undeniably brave and don't care who sees it... he is enraptured by you

All of these things intimidate him a little bit, which is why he has to learn about you from afar first before he can finally meet you

He is so nervous when he finally introduces himself, but unashamedly peers inside your head to see if you're even the least bit intrigued in him as he is by you

He's glad he did, and had nothing to worry about; you've fallen at first sight

He makes a point to learn things you like; he has tried to teach himself how to paint, but gets frustrated that it is one of the only things he can't master

He already asked you for an evening by the sidra to paint and have a picnic; too early, though as now he is realizing he is no good at the skill you excel in

"I just want you to know, painting isn't something I'm very talented in doing..."

You get butterflies realizing the most powerful and dangerous High Lord could be so nervous on a first date with a human female

"Allow me to help you, then."

He melts when your fingers hold his on the brush, only using one canvas as you paint a picture together instead of two separate ones

He can barely focus, your jasmine scent so close as you sit side by side on the soft grass by the river in the moonlight. He's not even focusing on the painting, but on your side profile instead, so intrigued in your work, the way your brows furrow in concentration

The moonlight illuminates the soft freckles on your nose; he wants to lean in and kiss each one of them

"No wonder you do not paint very well; you don't seem to have a strong sense of focus," you smirk

Cassian

He didn't want to like you when he met you, but somehow... he couldn't help himself

Your icy stare, the way you carried yourself, your strong sense of independence... you made it clear you didn't want any man

But he wanted you

At first he didn't know how to act around you, usually the fae he took interest in were kind and welcoming... but you had a bite that would send every male in Prythian screaming. He wasn't sure how to make you like him

He tried kindness; he earned a scowl. He tried buying you things; another sour look. He even tried inviting you to things, so you'd feel less isolated; all that got him was rejection, every time. Finally, he'd had enough

"What is it with you? Why won't you let anyone in? I get it, your family sucks, but-"

"Oh, please. You know nothing about me or my family." You'd spat

"Yeah! You're right, I don't," he heaves. "I don't... you don't tell me. You don't let a single person in. You don't talk to me, or tell me anything, or," he huffs a laugh. "Gods, I mean. You wouldn't step back and realize that someone cares so much for you, or see that I've just been trying to get you to love me back all along!" He'd throw his hands in the air, and they'd fall to his sides

You stand there, frozen in shock. You really could not believe what you were hearing, coming from Cassian, of all people

One minute, you're contemplating how to go about all this. Then, the next minute, you're not thinking at all

You're closing the distance, two steps at a time, throwing your arms around his neck and crashing your lips onto his. His large hands grasp your waist, holding you tight to him

You pull away and stare up into his wide, hazel eyes, boring into yours in utter disbelief

"Y/N... I can't do this if you're not serious about-"

"Take me out then. I'll show you just how serious I can be." His chest rises and falls, and he just shakes his head and lets out a suprised chuckle

"You'd really go out with me?" He asks, playfully. You roll your eyes in response, your usual irritation returning to your face

"Rita's in 30." You pull away from him and saunter off toward your room in the House of Wind, feeling his gaze on your swaying hips. You were already planning out a rather scandalous outfit for tonight, involving a tiny red dress hanging in your closet...

"You better stop staring at my ass, Cassie, or I might just change my mind." You call over your shoulder. He prectically clutches his chest with his hand

You were going to be the death of him

Azriel

Hear me out -- Azzie is attracted to someone who is originally viewed as very naive and harmless, but has a confident and brave side as well

He would see you from afar, wearing a pretty dress, a big bow in your hair while you walk along the streets in Velaris with your friends

Your smile has this man blushing!! and he doesn't even know you yet, but he knows he must have you

"You okay man?" Cassian asks, and Azriel cooly plays it off as being too hot in the mid-day sun. Cassian just gives a confused "whatever", but Rhysand says nothing as he knows exactly what is happening here

"I need a drink, and since Azriel is so warm," Rhysand side eyes his friend, smirking. Azriel immediately starts sweating. He knows Rhys is up to something, and Azriel has been casually observing you the whole morning that he's been in Velaris. You'd just gone into the small coffee shop, the one adorned with peonies outside; one Rhys was guiding the group of bat boys closer to. "...why don't we stop in here for some refreshments?"

He thinks his heart is going to fall out of his ass right now. He couldn't go in there -- you were already in there, and he was in no position to be talking to you right now

"Rhys, I uh, I don't know if I want coffee right now," he stutters quietly. Rhys chuckles, clapping a hand on his shoulder. Cassian looks between the two, still confused

"Ohhhhh Az," he sighs. "I'm sure they have water in there, and I am rather thirsty myself. Say, Cassian looks parched too -- why don't you go in and get us three waters, hmm?" Rhysand asks. Azriel glares at Rhys

"I know. What. You're doing." He says, voice clipped. Cassian scrunches his face behind the two of them.

"I mean, I'll go in and get 'em, I am kinda hot now that you mentioned the sun-" Cassian starts. Rhys puts a hand up, stopping his Illyrian friend and shaking his head. A wicked smile plays on his lips.

"No no, Azriel said he would go. We'll just wait outside..." He slinks over to a small table, and Cassian plops down in a chair, seeming to ask Rhys what was going on. The High Lord only stares between Azriel and the front door, silently ushering him to go inside. Azriel growls, forcing one foot in front of the other before he is finally opening the door and entering the small shop

The scent of roasting coffee beans and vanilla cream wafts through the air, the smell intoxicaitng and fresh. It only takes Azriel a moment to spot you, the blue and ivory sundress hugging you stunningly and the cream bow a stark contrast against your rich, flowing hair. He glances toward the window, and meets the eyes of both Rhysand and Cassian. Cassian gives him a cheesy thumbs up, and Azriel rolls his eyes as he heads towards the front counter. You're at the other end, waiting on your order

"Hi! How may I help you?" The cheery older woman behind the counter greets him. He can barely focus on anything, let alone the fae in front of him engaging in conversation when you're closer than you've been all day to him

"Three waters..." he says. The older lady follows his line of sight, a small smile pulling at her lips as she begins to chuckle

"I'll have those right out for you," hes still staring, and she shakes her head, continuing to smile at him. "Her name is Y/N."

This snaps him out of his daze. He looks to the cashier once more. "Y/N?" He repreats. The name has never sounded so lovely. Maybe it wouldn't have, but now he knows it belongs to you. The woman nods her head

"Yes, Shadowsinger." His lips part, but no words come out. "And, she is here every day around lunch time. Unwed. So... I'd suggest you go over there and do something about that, hmm?" Azriel can't hide the heat on his cheeks as the woman winks at him, turning to get working on a few orders. That was his turn to walk away, walk over to you...

As he approaches your side in the waiting area, his breath quickens. He can't help but notice you're alone, your friends have gone outside and oh-so-conveniently struck up a conversation with his two brothers.

Bastards.

"I don't think I've ever waited this long for a drink from here in my life," you say quietly, chuckling at the end. He only blinks, not sure if what he was hearing was true. Were you really speaking to him?

He turns to you, only to find you already gazing up at him. He can't help but smile, revealing his perfect teeth as he fumbles for what to say back

"Do you, come here? Often?" He asks. He already knew the answer, but...

"Almost every day!" You beam. "And you?"

He shakes his head. "First time in."

You nod slowly. "Oh... my. Well, I hope you've tried something delicious for your first experience." You grace him with another small grin, and he feels like he might melt at the sight. He hadn't realized how close you'd stepped, or maybe he had? Only mere inches separated-

"Three waters!" The cashier calls, setting down the three glasses in front of Azriel. His cheeks heat as he stares at them, the wide-eyed expression from his new crush not going unnoticed. It isn't long before the most lovely sound is filling his ears though.

You were giggling beside him.

"Oh... my..." you say between breaths. Azriel sighs, leaving the three cups on the counter and facing you. He can't help but let loose a chuckle himself, and your cheeks redden at the sight of him

"Well, it seems I'll need to come back and actually try something next time..." He says. You continue to giggle, trying hard to calm down and peer down at the floor, shaking your head.

"Hey, I've got a lot of great suggestions, but..." the cashier silently sets down your drink in front of you, and you pick it up. "...plain water maybe isn't one of them." You grin. Azriel grabs his water, taking a long swig and you wished that perhaps it was you on his lips instead-

You turned to walk toward the door, your new companion keeping up with you and holding the door open for you to exit. You open your mouth to thank him, but he beats you to it

"Maybe you can show me what you'd suggest? Next time?" Your wide eyes gaze up at him, his hazel ones squinting in the midday sun. The breeze lightly brushes his black hair across his tanned forehead, and you try really hard to supress the grin spreading across your face

"I'd meet you here tomorrow, but;" you hesitate. "Well, uh, I have ring training tomorrow at this time... but maybe the day following?" You look at him sheepishly. He looks as if he is ready to fall to his knees in front of you

"I'll be here, the day following." You rise on your tippy toes, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek before skipping off to meet your friends. His eyes trail after you, his cheek tingling from where your lips made contact. He doesn’t register his brothers rising from the table and approaching him

“So uh… where are our drinks, Az?”

Lucien

Classic, but Lucie is going to fall for someone (kind of like Az) who is very soft and kind but can also hold her own

He is also going to rizz the shit out of you... but I feel like that is already a given

I feel like he would actually meet you in the Day Court when he's there on an assignment, and you'd be one of Helion's advisor's daughters and he would immediately be drawn to you

The gold and white dress and accessories you'd appeared in... oh he's down bad

He saw you at first in a group setting, not really being able to keep his eyes off of you but then later he spotted you near a pond of sunlight and couldn't walk away

He was walking closer, and noticed you actually weren't alone but were actually comforting a small child who appeared upset near the pool's edge. The boy stood, peering down at you on your knees as you ran your thumbs across his cheeks. Lucien leaned against a nearby tree, not wanting to interrupt, but also so intrigued by the scene in front of him

"There is no need to worry, sweetheart," your tender words pulled at something deep in Lucien's chest, though you weren't speaking to him at all. The little one sniffled and nodded, staring deep into your eyes. "I know it is frightening when we are lost, but look," you give the boy an award winning smile and Lucien feels like his heart is singing for you already. "...I've found you, and you're safe here! You know?" You say. He reaches out his little arms and braces them around your neck, hands tangling in your cascade of curls. You pull him in close, not letting go until he does

You take his precious fingers in yours, and he walks closely beside you as you make your way back to the palace. "Now, let's go find your mommy, okay honey?"

Lucien swears he could cry, hes never seen anyone so kind and gentle. He couldn't imagine having someone like that to love, and made the decision then that he would be introducing himself to you later that evening, properly

And when he does... ohhhh he charms you. It wasn't hard for you to fall for Lucien as quickly as he fell for you; he practically screamed "husband material"

He'd taken you on many dates, but the one that was the most special was when he brought you to a waterfall on horseback, just before sunset. He tied your shared horse to a tree, and led you to a small alcove where a small picnic was pre-set, the sunset streaming through the falling water just right (thank you, Helion). Apple pie, roasted turkey, and autumnal wine adorned the small blanket, as well as a little golden box in the middle. Your hand flew to your mouth

"I know the sunset and these falls make you who you are in the Day Court," Lucien says sheepishly as he guides you to the spread. You take your seats and he doesn't let go of your hand. "I wanted to show you a little bit of what makes me who I am too..." he trails off. You can't help the silver lining your eyes as you take in the scene around you

"Autumn and Day... who would've thought." You smile at him, and he reaches for the box. Opening it, he pulls out a thin golden necklace with a sun symbol on it.

"I love you to great lengths, Y/N," You only then notice as he is unclasping it that he already adorns one of the same around his neck.

"I don't want to leave you, or this place anymore," he says, reaching behind your neck to fasten the clasp. He breathes in your hibiscus scent, and his fingers trail down the side of your cheek. You can't help but let a tear slip free, realizing you'd never have to say goodbye again

"I won't ever leave you, or this court, again."

Eris

You caught the attention of Eris because you were plain

Literally

Eris was so excited (but, confused?) because he'd never genuinely loved a female beyond his sexual encounters, then he'd met you and you'd absolutely ruined everyone else for him

You were overlooked by everyone, which made you feel horrible most of your life, but Eris treated you like a queen, and he appreciated your simplicity and liked how uncomplicated you were

You were not even High Fae; which didn't go over well with Beron, but Eris didn't care. You made him feral. He'd kill his own father for you if it meant spending the rest of eternity with you.

His father was always trying to marry him off with other High Fae or noble females, but they were always too much to handle or too bratty and stuck up to Eris

He also didn't appreciate his father telling him who he would be allowed to chose and who he couldn't

But boy oh boy, did he choose you

He liked to keep your outings private, so no one would be able to swoop in and ruin the time you had together

But, that did not stop him from going all out for you and giving you all of the things you did not get to indulge in

He definately used his status to his advantage...

Your favorite date to go on -- a repeat date, as it was a shared favorite -- was to the orchard. Eris would spoil you by taking you shopping the day prior (you'd almost always choose a crimson or maroon sundress with matching flats) for a new outfit, and you'd wear said outfit the next day

You'd always wear one of his rings, though the two of you were not yet properly mated, and the sight of it made him weakkkkk I am telling you weak

He'd reserve the orchard for the day, and the two of you would ride on the wagon, share warm cider, and walk along the treelines as you both did when you were just young children

Obviously there would be apple picking, and he'd purposefully wander near a tree with ones dangling higher than you could grasp

"Eris, I can't-" you huff, stretching an arm up and dancing on your tip toes in search of the hanging fruit on a branch out of your reach. His eyes would wander, taking in your bare legs as your short dress rode up higher on your thighs-

Ughhhhh, this is not the place, Eris

"Allow me, my love." He would bend down, hiking you up on his shoulder and standing at his full height, arm bent and wrapped around your knees as you sat atop his shoulderblade. You'd wobble a bit, but, now you could reach the Honeycrisp you'd been going for.

Reaching toward branch, you grab on and yank. Seeing it glimmering in the warm September sun, you can't help but to bite into it, a satisfying crunch as a tiny drop of juice trails from the corner of your lips. A satisfied "hmmm" escapes your throat as you close your eyes, but the male beneath you catches on to what you're doing

"Heyyy," Eris slides you off his shoulder, hands firmly gripping your hips and gently setting you on your feet. Your spun around to face him, and he smirks down at you. Your now wide eyes stare into his amber ones as he leans in, licking the drop near your mouth and then leaning in close to your ear

His breath was warm on your neck, and a shiver ran down your spine as goosebumps appeared on your arms. His warm hands trailed up and down your upper arms, his voice low and husky. "These are for picking -- I thought we could eat... later..."

Tamlin

So... stay with me here on this one. Tam Tam is getting a mate that has a power dynamic that is going to absolutely match his okay

Whatever energy you give me, I'm matching it... that is the dynamic that this duo is giving here

Also... I feel like after Feyre, he would pull a complete 180 and be with someone who would put him in his place from the very beginning

His previous relationship really messed him up, but after he healed from that... he absolutely changed for the better I feel like. I think he would be with someone who would keep him in check, remind him when he's acting out, and almost maybe scare him a little? Kind of like Cassian and his ideal mate lol

Except... his ideal girlie would also be maybe just a tad unhinged

Just like him

It's alright... we love to see it

Anyways

His mate would be very modernly beautiful, I feel like; what comes to mind when you think of "society's beautiful". Not fake, however. Just very blessed, and just born this way -- lucky her! Lol

This, of course, caught Tamlin and the entirety of the Spring Court's eye

He was not very intimidated by his ideal mate, at first, but when he got to know you a little bit better, he wanted to do everything right and not screw anything up like last time

If he did mess up, or do things that were genuinely wrong or out of line... oh did he hear about it. You definitely kept him in check

Yet, another reason the Spring Court loved you

He did get easily jealous of other males, High Fae and lesser faeries alike for looking at you too long, talking to you, and fawning over you of course

Who wouldn't?

He'd wrap his arm around you a little tighter when in public, or kiss you literally right on the mouth in the middle of the square if people were staring at you for longer than he'd like

But, you honestly didn't care. You reveled in it, the attention you got from others, which in turn, drove him wild and would lead to his posessiveness of you taking over-

Phew... yeah uhm

Dating... he wouldn't even bother making dates private. He liked showing you off, even though other guys looking at you made him nuts

You liked public dates, because you liked to be shown off, and again, his posessiveness was so sexy and would usually lead to a great time (in PRIVATE, of course) once the nice lil date was over

You'd make it even better by wearing something fun for him when he'd take you out. Let's say... dinner, for example

You'd start sitting across the booth from each other, both recieving polite hello's and compliments from every faerie who passed your table. You'd of course return them; one thing he'd picked up from you was your politeness and manners

After a little while of spending time together and him gazing into your eyes, he'd seem a little... distracted... and slip into the same side of the booth with you instead, just to be closer to you

It didn't really help his case, but he really liked the smell of wildflower and honey that seemed to radiate from you

He'd have one arm around your shoulders, tracing small circles on your skin with his finger and you’d giggle because it tickled

But it also distracted you from his other hand slowly tracing up your thigh...

...and under your short, oh so short skirt...

Finally, you'd caught onto what he was doing and sat up straight, the corset top you'd expertly paired with this outfit for this reason alone doing you justice as his gaze flicked down to where it curved low below your collarbone. A soft growl graced the shell of your ear, and you only chuckled as his hot breath tickled the side of your neck

"You didn't put anything on under this... did you?"

#a court of silver flames #a court of thorns and roses #acofas #acosf #acotar #acotar smut #lucien acotar #lucien vanserra #lucien x reader #a court of frost and starlight #azriel smut #azriel fanfic #azriel acotar #azriel #cassian #cassian smut #high lord rhysand #rhysand #rhys acotar #tamlin #eris vanserra #eris acotar #eris vandaddy #eris x reader #eris x you

[azrielslightintheshadows]

Princess

Azriel x f!Reader

One of the series I’m currently working on. Enjoy!

Summary; Reader is Mor’s new friend that she found in the winter court while she was away for business. Y/n has been raised as a princess since her parents wanted to wed her to a noble fae in order to climb the social ranks. When her parents are brutally murdered y/n is left alone without a clue about the harsh reality or the brutality of the world. Mor finds her and takes her back to Velaris afraid of what might happen to her if she was left to live on her own. Will y/n survive the hate she will receive from certain members of the inner circle -including her mate- regarding the way she grew up?

Warnings; angst, mentions of abuse, trauma and death, swearing

Masterlist.

Princess Masterlist.

Chapter 12

“Fuck you” you shouted and slammed the door shut, leaving a whimper at the pain on your hand.

Azriel disappeared for two weeks, you knew he was still in the house, but he avoided you like the plague. At first you didn’t mind his absence but now two weeks later your hands wouldn’t stop trembling no matter how often you massaged them, it wasn’t the same. Azriel’s touch was like a light breeze on your hands, yet it was hard enough to release the pressure of the muscles and even though you spent more than an hour every day trying to sooth your aching ends it wasn’t enough. You tried looking for him in the house and even sent Claude to find him but failed miserably. You knew that Claude found him even though it hissed in your ear that it wouldn’t lie to you and you decided to act like you believed it in fear of losing the only part of him you had left. That was a thought that you kept deep in your mind under several locks to hide it from Rhysand and even yourself. In the past two weeks you realized that Azriel’s silence and darkness felt soothing and gave you the will to regain the control of your life. With a sigh you decided to join the night family for dinner, you wrapped your hands with bandages to hide the tremor and walked to the dining room. Everyone was already sitting around the big table -Azriel too and their heads snapped to you. The shadowsinger immediately glanced at your wrapped hands and frowned.

After a few greetings you sat across him and fell into conversation with Nesta.

Cassian cleared his throat interrupting you “You missed training today” he said to you.

You quickly scanned around the table and almost blushed when everyone’s eyes fell on you.

“I was tired” you mumbled.

“Will you come tomorrow?” he pressed.

“I don’t think so, I need some time for myself” you lied and hid your hands under the table.

No one seemed to notice except for Azriel who kept staring at you with furrowed brows. He nudged your foot with his own and shook his head questioningly when you looked at him. Oh now he cares. You thought and rolled your eyes before looking away and ignoring him for the rest of the dinner.

“I want to talk to you about something” Rhysand spoke to you. You nodded and waited for him to continue. “I talked with Helion and we would like to try something on your hands”.

You blinked. “What?”

“Maybe he can speed up the process of healing and maybe make the scars less visible.” He stared at you, trying to read your face.

“Maybe?” you asked.

“He doesn’t think he will be able to do that now, if he was here when it happened he is certain that he would make them disappear or at least not visible from a certain distance.” He explained.

You snorted “well if you go to Hewn City and I stay here you won’t be able to see them now, so certain distance doesn’t actually make a difference.”

Rhysand smirked and shook his head. “Anyway he agreed to speed up the healing process so you can continue training without pain. Cassian told me that you started your full training again and that you cry out every time you punch.”

He was right and even though you hadn’t met Helion, everyone said that he is kind and fair. “I would like that” you replied and Azriel scoffed.

“Tell her” he snarled at Rhysand making you stare the high lord questioningly.

“During the session you will be in tremendous pain.” He said softly. “Helion’s power will pierce through your wounded skin in order to heal you from inside out.”

“But my hands healed weeks ago that’s why Madja took off the bandages.”

“The outer layer healed, the damage was deep that’s why it hurts every time you touch something, Madja took the bandages off because the risk of getting infected doesn’t exist anymore.” Rhys explained. “But from what I can see you wrapped them again.”

You hid your hands even deeper under the table and sighed. “It soothes me” you replied.

“So should I invite Helion here?” he asked.

You didn’t know why but your eyes fell on Azriel, and you tried to figure out if he agrees. The shadowsinger stared back at you and quirked a brow. “It’s your decision” his expression seemed to say even though he remained silent.

Nesta noticed the small interaction and cleared her throat. “What do you think about this Azriel?” she asked and her hand fell on your thigh leaving a soft squeeze.

“I.. why me? It’s her decision.” He stuttered.

“Because you’ve been through this” Nesta rolled her eyes.

“If I had the opportunity then I think I would take it.” He shrugged.

You thought about it, everyone must be thinking that you’re a fool for not replying immediately but you’ve been in tremendous pain before, and you weren’t sure if you would survive it again. If Helion managed to help you then you would be able to go on missions with the girls, Cassian had said that they would start in a few weeks. But if he failed the healing process might be delayed.

“What if he fails?” you asked Rhysand.

“He won’t, at least on the healing part” he replied.

You hummed. “I don’t really care about the scars I have already made peace with the thought of having them forever”.

Azriel stared at his plate with a frown at the last statement.

“Okay I’ll do it” you announced.

“Perfect, please consider this an apology for the way you’ve been treated here.” Rhysand said and you nodded.

After dinner was over you returned to your room and Azriel slipped inside before you could close the door.

“What are you doing here?” you asked him but didn’t show your irritation not wanting to push him away.

“You bandaged your hands again” he noted.

With a sigh you unwrapped them and let him see the tremor and twitching.

“You’re not massaging them?” he frowned and quickly moved to your nightstand to take the ointment.

“I do but they won’t stop” you huffed.

He patted the bed “Come here”.

You quickly obliged and he knelt in front of you before grabbing your hands and started massaging them. His touch made you shudder and immediately your muscles relaxed. You suppressed a moan and closed your eyes, savoring the feeling of relief.

“Thank you” you whispered.

“I’m sorry for disappearing, I should’ve been here to help you.” he replied.

You took a deep breath. “I was awful to you, I just got so mad because you treated me differently and I reacted so poorly. I don’t blame you for what happened to me, at least not entirely.”

“I know… but I think you’re wrong. It’s entirely my fault and I will spend the rest of my life punishing myself for it” he shook his head “I don’t know why I always mess it up with you, I told you that I would help you heal and then I disappeared even though I knew that it was normal for you to react this way.”

“Maybe the Cauldron was wrong” you whispered, and he froze. “It usually is so easy between mates but look at us, we keep fighting and hurting each other with our words.”

He shook his head. “You should have seen Nesta and Cassian…” he paused “It doesn’t matter… we will reject the bond whenever you want.”

“I don’t want you to go mad” you stated.

“I won’t… I’m way stronger than most males.”

“Still this is something ancient…”

“Why do you care?” he asked and let go of your hands.

“Because I don’t want to harm you, even though you despise me, I don’t.” you shrugged.

“I don’t despise you” he furrowed his brows “listen… I know that I was a complete asshole to you, and I don’t want to defend myself for it, but I just wanted to keep you at a distance and to be honest the first days I completely hated the way you grew up. I kept thinking that you would never understand what I’ve been through, and I hated that I didn’t have the opportunity to be raised in a loving home like you. I guess I envied you.”

“You called me a princess…” you snorted “I grew up in a small cottage, we never bathed with hot water and some days we didn’t have food. My parents didn’t love me, they loved my potential… they called me their savior and brainwashed me so I could become an obedient little housewife to someone who would give them money and make their life easier. They wouldn’t care if my husband was abusive as long as they could enjoy his wealth.”

Azriel’s breath hitched, and you continued “It was really painful to realize all of this, but I did it when I came here and saw how the other females were. You see in my village most of the girls were brainwashed like me, so we never noticed that something was off. I’ve heard a few things about everyone’s past here and I know that it was way worse than mine but that doesn’t change the fact that I was abused too. I might not be able to understand your trauma, but I will respect it and I will stand next to all of you and support you if needed.”

Azriel’s eyes watered and he shook his head.  “I wish I could go back in time and change the way I treated you.”

You smiled softly at that “I think we should let the past go and focus on the present, we ruined the bond between us but that doesn’t mean we can’t be friends.”

“Do you think we can leave all of this behind?” he asked sincerely.

“I think that it will take time and there will be times that we will fight but we will figure everything out eventually.”

He stood up and left the ointment on your nightstand.

“I’m willing to try it, maybe we can go to the city tomorrow I think I owe you a proper tour” he smiled.

“I would like that!” you smiled back, and he headed to the door.

“Azriel.” You called him and he stopped. “I would really appreciate if you came to my sessions with Helion… if you have time… Its okay if you don’t want to” you chewed on your bottom lip.

“Of course I’ll come” he said and with that he was gone.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Helion arrived the next day, ruining your plans with Azriel to go to the city. Rhysand explained to him what you talked about and then he left you with Helion and Azriel.

“I will start with the left one” Helion explained and took your hand between his warm palms. “When I heal most of the damage, we will do both simultaneously” he informed you and you nodded. “You will feel a lot of pain, do you want something to bite?”

“Should I?” you asked, and he nodded.

Azriel quickly left the room and came back with a piece of leather.

“This used to be a belt, I washed it” he informed you and gave it to you.

“Okay let’s do this” you said and bit down on the leather.

Helion’s eyes became brighter, and you felt his power piercing through your skin, your eyes watered and the piece of leather seemed to groan at the pressure. You felt nauseous and goosebumps appeared on your soft skin. Azriel immediately grabbed your other arm a bit higher than where the damage was, and his shadows slithered around your body anxiously. The pain made you see stars and you were sure you would faint, but Azriel’s siphons started beaming and you felt a wave of power inside you, urging you to stay strong. His shadows hissed at Helion but remained on you, wiping away your tears and caressing your cheeks. Sweat was running down on Helion’s forehead, and his eyes closed before he stopped.

“I need a minute” he panted and walked out.

Azriel immediately removed the belt from your mouth and fetched you a glass of water. “You did so good” he praised you and removed a strand of hair from your face.

You could only nod.

“Should we stop?” he asked you worriedly.

“No no” you mumbled and took a deep breath.

Helion walked inside again and grabbed your right hand. You nodded and Azriel placed the belt between your teeth.

Everything repeated and Azriel’s power flowed in your body giving you strength and you could swear that it took some of the pain away. When Helion was done your eyelids felt heavy and your body gave up. The last thing you felt was Azriel as he carried you to your room and tucked you in, he probably thought that you were unconscious because before he left he placed a soft kiss on your forehead.

If I forgot to tag someone please let me know! If someone wants to be removed from the taglist please tell me I won't be offended. What do you think about Chapter 12?

@glitterypirateduck, @zara-aliza08, @mika-no-sekai-blog , @purpleshoelaces , @act1839, @fasoaurore, @pinksmellslikelove, @bunnyredgirl, @lectoracronica, @tuggboatfishin, @sunnysideup000, @blessthepizzaman, @raisinggray, @ssmay123 , @kalulakunundrum, @justasillylittlegoofyguy, @tsunami-of-tears, @just-a-social-casualty-1, @thelov3lybookworm, @saltedcoffeescotch, @justdreamstars, @strangersunghoon , @sosuitcandy , @cat-or-kitten, @ohthemisssery, @starsinyourseyes, @no1massassin, @stained-glass-eyes0708, @vellichor01, @hnyclover, @miraclepirate , @amara-moonlight.

#acotar #acotar series #azriel #acotar fanfiction #azriel shadowsinger #azriel spymaster #azriel acotar #a court of thorns and roses #acosf #azriel fanfic #azriel angst #azriel x reader #rhysand #shadowsinger x reader #spymaster #city of starlight #night court #velaris #the night court #acowar #acomaf #a court of silver flames #a court of mist and fury #a court of wings and ruin

[deezbignutz]

Silly little quote I scooped up from redacted audios fanfics on ao3 that I found on my desktop :)))

Special shoutout to these tags I found on some fics:

Thank you for coming to my TedTalk

#redacted asmr #redacted audio #redactedverse #redacted vega #redacted guy #redacted david #redacted warden #redacted asher #redacted adam #redacted starlight #redacted damien #redacted avior #redacted huxley #redacted angel #redacted xavier #redacted sam #redacted treasure #redacted gavin #redacted amanda #redacted porter #no #I will not be giving any context to any of these :))) #I can't find any redacted fanfics in wattpad 🤷‍♀️ #Damn that's a lot of hashtags