#these two are just angst all abounds

[theeveninghour]

All My Dreaming

Summary: You came to the Night Court as a fugitive and quickly became a valued member of the Inner Circle. Azriel’s love for you has burned brightly in his chest for nearly two centuries now, but when an unknown force threatens to take you from him, he must fight to keep you at his side.

Pairing: Azriel x Winter Court!Reader

A/N: I don’t use Y/N here just out of personal preference, but the IC do call reader “Little One” because she’s younger than them by like a century or so. Also, slight timeline deviation? I kind of just made the ACOTAR timeline work for me a little bit but the important bits are there mostly. If it’s not totally accurate, please suspend your disbelief and go with it. I also took some serious liberties with Prythian geography and Azriel’s shadows in this. I had to force myself to stop because I could’ve written five more scenes, so let me know if you all want a part two. I got nasty Azriel thots to spare, baby! 

WC: 16.1k  ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

TW: 18+, Minors DNI, violence, death, descriptive gore, lots of time jumps, torture, smut, p in v, fingering, porn with plot, mating, slow burn, angst, friends to lovers, declarations of love, loving sexy times, miscommunications abound, Azriel being a big ole softie, Azriel being a big ole bitch to bad men, Azriel really going tf thru it emotionally, and Azriel being mouthy as fuck. Just girly things. 

Part 2

Azriel hadn’t seen you in four days. Nearly a week had passed since you’d left. Rhys mentioned a mission but no additional details, Cassian avoided the topic, knowing how frustrated his brother got when you were gone, and Feyre was decidedly unhelpful the few times he’d brought you up. His shadows searched aimlessly, they’d found nothing as far south as Winter Court, daring not venture into Autumn, and knowing damn well you’d never step foot into Spring. You were slowly driving him mad; the bond in his chest aching at the loss. Even if you hadn’t recognized the golden thread linking the two of you, he felt it. 

Gods, did he feel it. He’d often lay in his bed at night, eyes tracing the intricate foil patterns of the ceiling tiles. When sleep evaded him, as it frequently did, he’d grasp the thread tightly in his minds eye and tug it experimentally, begging you to see, to notice it was him that loved you with a ferocity that rivaled the sun. Try as he might, the responding tug never answered, his call into the void not returning an echo. 

The second it snapped for him, Azriel had resolved himself as unworthy, not of someone like you. You were powerful, breathtakingly beautiful, intimidatingly intelligent, and you regularly brought men to their knees, both in political circles and on the battlefield. Rhys relied on you as much he did Cassian and Az, you were a core member of his court, a valuable asset, and the love of Azriel’s life. Azriel avoided the latter subject entirely, choosing instead to silently stoke the ember in chest with unyielding affection; his own private paramour. 

When you’d joined the Night Court, you’d been on the run from both Winter and Autumn Courts. Your father was a high fae noble in Winter that had attempted to arrange a marriage to the second youngest Vanserra of Autumn. The family’s brutal reputation was legend and you were terrified. You were young then, barely a century old, and upon your introductory visit to the Autumn Court, Beron sought to make an impression by presenting a welcome gift. That gift? The public torture and execution of a servant he’d deemed traitorous. 

His gleaming eyes remained on yours with each cast of the fire whip he’d conjured using his cruel magic. He’d cracked it again and again until blood splattered and the servant was left flayed beyond recognition, flesh searing, and finger tips twitching from the remaining neurons firing in his brain. Only after his death did Beron announce his crimes. He’d stolen a parcel of food from the royal pantry to feed his wife and small child. Your stomach churned at the thought of the now widow and fatherless child waiting at home for the male that would never return. 

It had all been a test to see if you were worthy of the most violent and petulant of the broody sons, and you’d passed, holding Beron’s stare and keeping your back straight as you faced his wrath head on. You’d cried yourself dry in your room that night though, sobs wracking your form until your chest ached, grief for the male that was lost. Fear settled into your heart, terror of the family you were set to marry into. 

You’d ran at first light, leaving with nothing but the clothes on your back. Your Winter white blonde hair streaking across the red and orange forest as you bolted. Beron sent his dogs after you. You still had the scars lining your calves from where they’d gotten too close, brought you down into the dirt, jaws snapping and tearing at the muscly sinew there. But you’d fought. You’d kicked and clawed like a feral child of the woods, screaming with a sense of self preservation you’d never known you possessed. 

Rhysand had found you half dead, starving and a little savage in the mountainous border between the Day and Night Courts. He’d made a bargain with you then; he’d save you, if you worked for him. Word had already spread of the ousted Winter female and spurned Autumn princeling and Rhysand was impressed you’d lasted in the wilds undetected for so long. The small star flecked tattoo of the Velarian night sky that lived on your wrist since was the only evidence of his deal. 

You’d long moved past such a bargain. Rhys had offered to lift it half a dozen times in your first hundred years within his court, but you hadn’t minded. A reminder, you’d insisted, a mark of your loyalty to the family that didn’t lead you the wolves with such glee. 

You’d settled into a routine in Velaris, training with the Illyrian brothers and charming Amren with your intelligence and wit.  But you’d become the closest with Mor, who felt a kinship in your shared traumas. She’d soothed you in those first years, fiercely protecting her friend when Eris Vanserra had shown up in Hewn City as an emissary to inquire on your new position in the Night Court. It was that same night that Azriel realized how fucked he truly was.

Eris smirked at you and your back straightened, face growing cold. He spoke, “My brother was wondering where you’d scampered off to.” A laugh followed, “You couldn’t stomach our court, but found yourself bound to the Court of Nightmares? My my, what a wicked turn of events.” 

Rhysand had spoken then, wearing his High Lord mask well, “Watch yourself, Eris. You know not what our Little One can do.” Eris laughed, the sound laced with the dark spark of a threat. “Little One? Fugitive and Night Court whore, I must tell your father. I’m sure he’ll be proud to hear of his daughter’s fate.” Azriel’s wings pricked, then fluttered, he would’ve killed Eris right then for you. Your hand came to rest on Rhys’ arm as you stepped around the throne to level your accuser with a look that should’ve turned him to stone. 

“I am no male’s whore and I belong to no court except Night. Report what you wish to my father, to your father, your brother. May you all rot.” You’d spat at his feet then, and the room heated twenty degrees, Eris’ barely kept rage simmering under the surface, fire blooming on the fringes of his figure. 

He stepped forward and Cassian, Azriel, and Mor all shifted, prepared to take out the threat. Eris’ eyes tracked their figures, gauging the situation. He knew better. Any attack here would mean war on his court and his father have his hide for that. You stepped forward to meet him, knowing he could make no move without endangering his position. You kept your spine straight and narrowed your gaze at him with such contempt he would’ve been impressed at the show had you been anyone else. 

“I will say this once Eris Vanserra,” you held up one long manicured finger, and Azriel traced the action with thinly veiled obsession. “Leave my court or I will be the one to kill you. I’ll rip your spine from your body and I’ll do it with the same glee in which your father,” you’d spat that word, the hatred you held for Beron burning your throat as the words exited your mouth, “killed that male for feeding his family.” You took a step closer, summoning a dagger in your left hand, and rolling it your palm. “Trust that we have no tolerance for your family or your bullshit in these lands.” 

Eris had good enough sense to step back then, peering around your form to where Rhysand sat, legs spread, slouched in the throne, smirking at your display of dominance. Azriel to his right looked on in pure male satisfaction, you were a powerful little thing and he was rather fond of you in that moment. Eris spoke up, “Should I note that the Night Court threatens other Courts for sport?” Cassian and Azriel rolled their eyes in synchronous fashion, but it was Mor that spoke with the dark edge of a threat, “Only ones that deserve such brutality.” Her father, Kier, stood in the gathered crowd and sneered at the tone of her voice.

You’d done the unthinkable then, winnowing behind Eris, grasping the male by his red hair and dragging the dagger to his neck, digging in enough to cause the male’s heart to speed, a line of scarlet leaking from the press of your blade. You could feel the heat in his skin, the flame licked at your hand as you released him with a shove. 

You brandished your dagger as if it was an extension of your hand, the tip of the silver blade glinting with red from the now healing cut at Eris’ throat. “Come for me again and I’ll kill you.” It was then that Azriel noted the slight tremble in the hand at your right side and he wished on some distant star that he could reach out to you, soothe you, tell you that he was proud and you defended yourself and your court beautifully. 

As if his wish was granted, he felt his chest give way to a canyon of emotion, heart stuttering as the bond fluttered and snapped, thrumming with affection for the female standing at the center of the room. He had selfishly allowed himself to hope it would be you, in the dark of the night when he was alone and his shadows whispered to him of your whereabouts. Since he’d met you, he fostered that small romantic notion of soulmates. His most private desire. 

Eris whirled on you with a roar, grabbing your throat with hands of fire. Azriel felt the breath leave him, and he took two then three steps forward before he could think, hazel eyes alight with a fierceness you’d not yet witnessed. Your eyes found his and you held up your hand to halt his movements, the one that had trembled seconds earlier, now steady as a stone. You’d looked at Eris then, raising your chin defiantly, a slow smile overtaking your face as you once again spit at the Autumn male before winnowing back to your place in front of the dais. Rhysand raised to his feet then, taking steps down to meet you. His hand grazed your arm this time and his mind reached out, “Very good, Little One, very good.” 

“As the lady said, Eris, come to my court in search of her again, and she’ll be the one to kill you.” Rhys circled Eris, tracking like prey. “But not before I sanction it for laying your hands on a member of my house.” Rhysand spoke with such quiet cunning, it was no wonder he excelled as High Lord. Eris snarled then before winnowing out of the Hewn City and Azriel quickly set his shadows to following him, ensuring he was actually gone. 

You returned to Mor’s side and the shameless pride that set on your face the rest of the night made Azriel want to kiss you. Gods, he was fucked.. 

You’d flirted with him constantly in the first century you’d been in Velaris. You had laid it on thick too, dragging a long nail up his arm, your mouth sliding into a smirk after one too many drinks at Rita’s. Azriel had always feigned friendly indifference though, a mask he slipped on that was equal parts protection as it was self soothing. His only crack coming in the form of a slight tremble in his pinky as he tried to gather himself to avoid closing the space between you, touching, grasping, feeling.

He’d worn black leather gloves around you in your first few decades with them. His hands always held the most insecurity for him, the silver scars and warped skin a brutal reminder of his childhood. It was after training one day, as you all packed your small bags and threw towels into bins that you’d asked about it. 

“I don’t mean to pry, and feel free to tell me to fuck off, but why the gloves?” You asked quietly leaning against a wall less than ten feet from him. He’d stiffened and breathed tightly, “it helps with the work.” That had always been his excuse, wearing gloves when killing helped reduce the touch memories associated with the act, and it was partially true. But he wasn’t on a mission right now, and you called him on that, “are you spying right now?” Your lips quirked, “should I tell Rhys?” Your words were mirthful, but your eyes held nothing but empathy for the Shadowsinger, sometimes Azriel wondered if that was your Cauldron blessed gift. 

You’d reached down then, rolling up the left leg of your training leathers. You’d resumed your full height and rotated your calf outward for his eyes to survey the damage there. Ragged silver keloid scars marked the skin from your ankle to the soft back of your knee— a knee he’d admittedly fantasized about many nights in a row now. He’d selfishly thought about trailing kisses up your leg, pausing to nip playfully at the soft skin at your knee as he made his way north, up your thigh. He breathed deeply banishing those thoughts as he took in the site of your marred skin. Judging by the heavily keratinized markings, the injury had no doubt been painful when incurred originally. Azriel’s fingers twitched again, wanting to touch your face, hold you as he kissed away your grief. 

“From Beron’s dogs,” you breathed, rolling you shoulders, as if shaking the memory from your mind. “They wouldn’t heal when I was out there,” you clicked your tongue, “granted I was starving,” you sighed, “but that’s a story for another day.” You looked at him then, and he had to steady himself at the emotions pooling in your eyes. 

He’d already planned on killing Beron if the opportunity presented for what had happened with Mor, but for you, he’d make it hurt. He’d drag it out and make it slow. He’d torture him for days, flaying skin from bone, taking fingers then limbs and when at last he begged for death, Azriel would set the dogs on him and laugh as they tore him apart. He felt a long repressed need for vengeance creep up his spine, and he hated to acknowledge what its presence meant in regards to you.

“It’s okay, you know,” you’d said, head lolling to the side as you watched him, eyes swimming with a gentle affection, “I’ll never judge you for something like that.” Azriel squeezed his eyes shut as he turned his head from you and breathed in tightly. How did always manage to be so fucking disarming and vulnerable? That must’ve been a gift too.

He pinched the middle finger of the right glove and pulled it from his hand, grasping his now exposed fingers into a fist, knuckles cracking. He extended that arm out, palm up as he let you view his deepest insecurity, the thing he hated most in his appearance. 

You’d stepped forward, looking at his palm. Your hands went to reach but you’d paused, looking to his eyes as you silently asked permission to touch. He nodded stiffly, watching you with the same intensity of an animal being hunted, prey ready to bolt at any moment. 

Your fingers touched his hand, and he felt the connection race up his arm and to his chest, settling in his heart. Your eyes studied, and you rotated his hand, fingers gently tracing from his wrist, to knuckle, to fingernail in reverence. You covered his hand with your own, moving your eyes to his hazel ones. “Are they dead?” You’d asked seriously, and he stuttered a shocked laugh. “Yes, Little One, they are,” he answered, a small smile playing at his mouth. The two of you far too similar it seemed. “Good,” you’d said simply before kissing his knuckles and pulling the glove back on for him. The action was quietly intimate, and Azriel should’ve kissed you then. Mother knows he considered it, eyes watching you with rapt attention as his heart sped up and breathing shallowed. 

“If you two are done flirting, lunch is ready,” Cassian announced from the doorway, breaking the spell you were both under. You’d jumped and laughed freely at the large male smirking at the entrance. You grasped Azriel’s hand tightly in affection before releasing it to turn on your heel to exit the room, passing by Cass with an eye roll, thumping him square in the chest.

Cassian looked to his brother as he walked into the room and his face split into a shit eating grin. “Let’s go, loverboy,” he said, crossing his arms over his chest. Azriel glared, scoffing as he followed behind you, praying to whatever Gods were listening that he’d get you alone again soon. 

In your second century with the Night Court, you’d lessened the blatant flirting and settled into loving, easy friendship. You regularly attended balls and galas in Hewn City, fitting into such pomp with practiced ease, but always with a dagger strapped to your thigh, ready to cut a male down in seconds. Those events were almost routine at this point: Azriel would save you a dance, and you’d move together in a slow ritual that you’d both perfected over the years, he’d bow as the violinist played their final note and resume his place on dais at Rhys’ right. His eyes would follow you the rest of the night, as you spoke in an airy manner to various high fae, glaring at any male whose hands ventured too close to his mate. 

Nights when the Court held parties at the House of Wind were different though. You were far less rigid, finding it easy to exist without scrutiny. Those were the nights Azriel’s eyes rarely left your form as he watched obsessively from the corners of the room. 

“You’re staring,” Rhys chimed from his place next to Azriel, eyes not leaving the crowd as he spoke to the Shadowsinger, mouth smirking. Azriel was staring. You’d worn cobalt blue tonight, a lovely color on your skin. His color on your skin. Mother above, the male possessiveness that crawled up his spine was unreal. Mate, mate, mate, his shadows had sang in his ear. He wanted to pluck the eyes from every male in the room for even glancing in your direction. He wanted so much more than that too. Your breathy sighs as he marked you, your moan as he made you come undone, his name crying from your lips as he ate his come from your cunt after. Azriel had a million and one scenarios running through his head. He yearned to make each one of them come to fruition too.

He hadn’t answered Rhysand, so the High Lord tried again, “you really should tell her, but please,” Rhys closed his eyes with a grimace, “quiet your thoughts first, for Cauldron’s sake.” That got Azriel’s attention, his back straightening and mental shield slamming down. His eyes squeezed shut, almost as if he was in pain. “I cannot burden her with that now,” he said, “not with war at our doorstep.” Indeed, the second war with Hybern creeped ever closer, disappearances of other high fae occurring daily. Whatever they were planning across the sea, it was going to bring Prythian to its knees. 

Rhysand sighed then, feeling older than his 500 years. “Be that as it may, we should hold those we love tighter.” Rhysand looked to Feyre at that moment, his eyes meeting his mate’s, as he sent a strum of warm affection down the bond. She smiled and returned it cheerily. He turned back to Azriel, “if it all ends tomorrow, I know my love and she knows me. That’s all we can ask for in this immortal life.” Azriel looked back to you, and your eyes were already on him, tracing the shadows that wound around his chest. You met his eyes and winked, before turning back to Mor and laughing freely.  

“I thank the Cauldron daily it was you that found her in those mountains, Rhys.” Azriel spoke quietly, admitting a small secret he’d not told anyone. Rhysand softened, and clapped his friend on the shoulder, “As I am, brother.” Azriel nodded, letting the conversation die between himself and the High Lord as he drained the drink in his hand and moved down the steps in your direction. 

You’d been in conversation with Mor when he approached. She was telling you of the seamstress she’d been seeing, and how happy she was. Azriel cleared his throat from behind the two of you and you turned to meet him, taking in his appearance with wide eyes. “Ladies,” he started, bowing to you and Mor, who snorted at the silly formality. “And that note, I’ll be taking my leave. I’ve got a lady to see,” she said with a wink and a flourish of her red dress. You laughed and shook your head before turning back to the Shadowsinger. He’d caught you staring earlier and your heart had nearly jumped into your throat, before Mor mocked you lightly, diffusing the tension. 

“Hi Az,” you greeted softly, before dropping your empty glass on a passing waiter’s tray and thanking them. Azriel watched you closely, noting the revealed skin that shifted with each movement, committing every angle and freckle to memory.

“You want to get out of here?” He dared ask, jerking his head toward the private balcony on the House of Wind. You raised a brow, Azriel? Asking you to leave? Together? You heart was back in your throat and you thanked the Mother that you’d taken your time getting ready that evening. Nodding, you grasped his arm as he offered it to you like a proper courtier. He walked the two of you up a round of stairs and away from the eyes he’d threatened earlier in the night. Voices dulled the more space you put between yourselves and them and you couldn’t help but start to sweat a bit at the thought of being alone with Azriel. 

You’d been friends for nearly two centuries, but you’d always felt a connection with the male. Your heart thrummed with a warm, golden affection when he got close. It made keeping a clear head during training hard. It made sitting next to him at dinner difficult. And when he’d looked at you like you hung the moon as you danced earlier in the night, it made you want to take him to bed and ride him until he moaned your name. You breathed deeply. ‘Focus,’ you chided yourself, ‘he is your friend, for Cauldron’s sake.’

He led you out onto to the balcony and stopped at the railing before looking up at the star flecked sky. “This is my favorite part of the House,” he said eyes scanning the sky before looking back to you as you watched him. A blush crept up his neck, before he cleared his throat again. 

“I’ve always wondered what it was like to be able to fly, you know,” you said quietly, removing your hand from his arm, rolling up onto your toes, leaning against the stone railing, and looking out on Velaris before scanning your eyes up to the three stars that shone brightly overhead. “When I was a child, I met a Peregryn from the Dawn Court and thought she had the most beautiful wings I’d ever seen.” You chanced a glance his way, “I’d not met an Illyrian yet.” You reminded with a smirk, bumping his arm with fondness. Gods, he was in trouble.

“I asked her what it was like and she said it was the purest sense of freedom possible.” You glanced down at your feet, “I spent the next year wishing for wings.”  He mulled on your words. He wanted to say something cheesy as Cassian would, like ‘I’ll be your wings’ but he couldn’t, so you continued on. 

“When I was a little older, I witnessed a blue skinned lesser fae’s wings ripped from his body as punishment and it was the most gruesome thing I’d seen at that point.” You took a shuddering breath, “I cried for him that night. The lost freedom. How maddening it must’ve been.” You looked at him then and he watched you with furrowed brows. “How does it feel for you?” You asked softly, eyes tracing the shine of his wing. ‘Magnificent things,’ you thought. You remembered seeing his wings for the first time and thinking the Peregryn had finally moved to second place in your mind. 

Azriel had to gather himself as he spoke, “It’s… everything.” He said quietly adjusting his body to extend a wing. “My ability to fly came in late,” he said, and your eyes widened, you hadn’t known that. “My childhood was… rough and I didn’t learn to fly until I was nearly grown.” He laughed, scuffing the toe of his boot, wings folding in behind him. “It was a lot of crash landings those first months.” You snorted, mental image of a younger Az, landing in a puddle of mud crossing your mind. 

“I was never a proud Illyrian, not like the others,” he continued, “it was hard for me to reconcile my heritage and our traditions.” He looked to the cityscape then, “but the stronger I got, the more I understood why flight was so crucial to my people.” He looked to you, eyes shining, “it’s the closest we can get to the stars.” 

You leaned over the railing again, staring wistfully at the night sky, the moon reflecting on your skin. “Will you take me someday? Flying, I mean.” Did you not know Azriel would give you the world? Of course he’d take you flying. He’d give you the moon, the stars, walk through fire and back, anything. He nodded, “you say the word, and I’ll fly you the the ocean and back.” The smile that broke across your face crippled him, his knees threatened to give way. 

“Yours are my favorite,” you murmured softly, eyes glancing from his wings to his face. Azriel blushed in full, pink speckling his neck and cheeks as he laughed. “Don’t let Cass hear you say that, he’s got an ego,” he said, a smile remaining at his lips. You liked him like this the most. Loose, smiling, free. You reached up then, cupping his reddened cheek, thumb stroking. “I don’t care,” you said smiling, “it’s the truth.” Azriel swallowed roughly, staring at your eyes swimming with an emotion he knew, but was much too stubborn and scared to name.

Just as your hand went to retreat, he grasped it between his own. “You can touch them,” he offered, knowing damn well the implications, “if you want,” he added. Your eyes widened. Mor had mentioned once that Illyrian’s wings were ‘sensitive,’ was the word she’d used. It was a sign of great intimacy and trust to allow another to touch them. You felt the air shift between you two then, as you nodded.

He extended a wing toward you. This felt so much like the first time he’d shown you his hands all those years ago. Your hand crept forward and gentle fingers met the red gold membrane that stretched between two metacarpals. Your fingers traced the membrane in smooth circles, then traced up to the crest. Azriel felt his breath gutter out of his mouth in a loud, choppy exhale, and he felt himself harden at the sensation of your fingers against the most sensitive portion of his wings. You gasped and jerked away at the sudden noise, before apologizing. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have gotten carried away.” 

Azriel shook his head, “It’s not that, they’re sensitive.” There was that word again, only it made you think of how they’d been shredded before the King of Hybern, and you opened your mouth to apologize again, but he stopped you short. “I haven’t allowed another to touch them freely since my mother.” The admission floored you, your gut giving way with a breath.

You looked to his eyes then, the air between you had shifted again and you knew this was it. This was the moment you’d waited for, he was going to kiss you. Mother, it felt you’d waited a millennia, and he felt just the same. But that kiss never came. Instead, Azriel went stock still, his eyes now on the House behind you. 

“Azriel?” You questioned. “It’s Rhys,” he said tightly, “he’s summoning me.” You understood then. He looked to you desperately, eyes a little wild and apologetic. “I’m sorry, I have to go to him.” You nodded, you both worked for the High Lord, you’d never get in the way of Azriel’s allegiance to his Court. “Of course,” you said quietly, taking a step back and swallowing down your disappointment. 

Azriel took three steps towards the entrance then stopped. “I’ll take you,” he turned around, backing his way to the arched stone, but keeping his eyes on you for a moment longer. “When I get back, I’ll take you flying,” he offered. Another smile etched its way across your face and Azriel took a long moment to memorize it greedily. “It’s a date,” you said confidently. He beamed then, turning on a heel to pick up into a jog, Rhys no doubt shouting to hurry up. 

That date hadn’t happened though. The second war with Hybern broke out days later and you both barely made it out alive. 

When Feyre had come to Velaris after Amarantha’s defeat, you’d accepted her with easy friendship. You saw Rhysand, your longtime friend, overcome with love for his newly found mate, and you couldn’t help but love her as well. You’d shared your story with her and the two of you bonded deeply over her art. She’d offered to teach you to paint, and you began taking lessons in your off time. Rhys had been Cauldron blessed with her and you reminded him daily. 

Later, when Feyre’s sisters joined their little unit, you’d been the first one to break Nesta’s tough exterior. The female saw parts of herself in you and you’d gotten her to crack a smile when you mocked Rhys’ High Lord voice at dinner one night. Elain had been a tougher sell, but you’d tried, along with Azriel, to bring the female out of her shell. The day she joined you in the library to read, you knew progress had been made, even if you two had only sat in silence a few feet apart, a small smile gracing her features. 

You left her book recommendations with small notes and she began to do the same. Your friendship playing out in the margins of the library’s tomes. You won her over with silent conversation. Nesta noticed, of course, and she looked to you with gratitude as she saw her sister’s eyes brightened and skin began to return to its normal, healthy color. The night Azriel mentioned it as you walked down the hall toward the dining room for the family meal, you’d shrugged. “I met her where she needed me to,” you’d said quietly, glancing to your feet. Azriel smiled, a Cauldron blessed gift indeed. 

Dinners at the House of Wind were by far Azriel’s favorite version of you. You’d laugh with abandon, smile splitting your face, showing every tooth as Mor cracked a joke and leaned against you for support, one too many drinks in her system. The first time he’d seen that smile, it blinded him, and he’d gone a little dazed, staring at you in wonderment. Rhys had interrupted his train of thought with an invasive insertion of “How quickly she reduced you to a puddle, brother.” Azriel had scowled at Rhys then, mental shields firming up, but not before he heard the distinct sound of his High Lord laughing at the Spymaster’s defensiveness. 

Indeed Azriel was gone for you. When Cassian finally confronted him last year about the truth of his feelings, Azriel saw no point to avoid it any longer, not after his brothers had also found their mates. “Our souls are one in the same, she’s my mate,” he’d said pensively, as if he was letting his deepest secret breath in the light for the first time in centuries. Maybe he was. He’d made Cassian promise on his life not to tell anyone, and despite being the biggest gossip in the Inner Circle, he kept his promise. He was thrilled for his brother, knowing you were the perfect match.

Little did Azriel know, everyone else was already more than aware of his affections. Amren had figured it out a century prior when Azriel had tended your needs as you’d recovered from an injury sustained during a mission. He’d fretted around you like a mother hen, buying you flowers, sweets, and books while you were bedridden. The female had watched and hummed with a raised eyebrow as Azriel exited your room for the fifth time in one day, wringing his hands with worry despite Madja’s clean bill of health.

Feyre had figured it out the same year she’d returned from the Spring Court, just before the second war with Hybern. She’d seen the way his eyes had followed you in the war room Rhys had created to host strategy meetings. Saw him lean towards you when you spoke, saw his wings flutter when you finally cast your gaze to him, eager for your attention. More than anything, she’d seen his shadows, desperate little things, sneaking across the floor each night, sidling up your ankles and wrists, begging for your affection. You always laughed and nuzzled them as the wound their way to your hair and Azriel went a little soft at the sight. 

When she told Mor, the blonde had laughed, “They’ve been circling each for two hundred years now, eventually one of them will cave.” Mor leveled a sardonic look at Feyre then, “and when they do, we’ll all have to relocate to the River House for a year lest we be subject to the frenzy.”

This mission should’ve been simple. Rhys had asked you to check out reports of rogue soldiers spotted making their way towards the border of the Night Court from the Day coastline. The intel he’d received had mentioned three to four maximum, all of them drunken ex-Hybern loyalists. It should’ve been a matter of locating them, spying for a day or two, then winnowing in to neutralize any threat. Gods, this was far from simple. 

When you’d arrived in the region, the hairs on your neck rose, the air itself feeling off. As you tracked them, you’d noticed intentional attempts to throw you off course. A carelessly trashed map, crudely laid tracks in the opposite direction, Dawn Court wine bottles that had been emptied and tossed about. They knew you were there, and you quickly realized that a trap had been laid. You backed off them then, staying further than you’d have liked, but trying like hell to make them think you’d given up. 

On your fourth night following them, you’d drifted away to an inn two towns over, desperately seeking a place to bathe and rest, even for a few hours. As you bathed, you felt watched in a way that discomfited you to your core, and your dagger stayed within arms reach the rest of the night. Suddenly, the role you’d played for the last two hundred years had left you entirely ill equipped for whatever was happening here. 

You’d left out before dawn, refusing to lose an ounce of daylight, but as you hit the tree line, readying yourself to winnow out, you’d noticed it. Hanging from a tree, a hundred yards away was a piece of clothing, your clothing. Clothing that should’ve been in the pack at your back. Your breath shuttered out of you as you opened your mind to Rhys, asking for back up. You were in over your head and you knew when to admit it. There was no pride in getting yourself killed. 

As you turned to move back to the inn where you could wait out contact from Rhys in a public location, you were met with a pair of shining blue eyes. You stepped back, keeping your grounding, readying for a fight. “You’ve been following us,” the stranger said calmly, beginning to trek in a slow circle around you. You opened your mind to Rhys again, “Help,” you called. Rhys answered this time, “Where are you?!” It was a frantic response, you never asked for help, Rhys knew this. “Just off the coast, beneath the mountain range, Day court border, 400 hundred paces from the inn” you spoke to Rhys in choppy thoughts, trying to establish a location before all hell broke loose. 

“I have,” you finally answered the stranger, whose lips quirked at your voice. He stopped circling and resumed his stance in front of you, blocking passage to the inn. “Why?” He asked and you tried to keep your mind steady as you answered. “You’re trespassers in these lands” you stated simply, shrugging a shoulder up. He grinned then, “had your lot not gotten in the way of our King’s plans, these would be our lands. We were promised them. I was personally promised the Court of Nightmares.”

“Well,” you shrugged feigning indifference, “that’s not how the war played out, so I will have to ask you to leave,” you offered in your most bored political tone. The same tone you’d used with High Fae that ran off at the mouth in Hewn City. The stranger cocked his head the side then, eyes twinkling, “I don’t think I will.” At that moment, one by one, additional soldiers appeared from the forest line. One, then four, then ten, until near twenty stood around you, looking on with hatred. 

Shit. 

“We’d hoped for the Illyrians, but it seems your High Lord sent us a treat instead,” the stranger said with mirth. You steeled your spine, looking down your nose at the stranger, “They’re going to kill you, you know.” He’d laughed at your threat. “I think not,” he said as as arrow was released from your left, finding purchase in your shoulder. You folded over on yourself at the blow, and looked up baring your teeth, before drawing your dagger and rushing the stranger with a feral sound.

Five more arrows hit you before your blade could find its target. One into your hip, two in your back, a fourth piercing your in your upper thigh, until the last burrowed into the back of your knee, bringing you down in front of him — forcing you to bow to the stranger. The arrows were laced with faebane you realized as you’d begun to feel its effects in your blood. Your power waning quickly, thoughts becoming murky. 

You released another shattered thought to Rhys then, “Tell him, please,” you begged raggedly. Rhysand came back with a rushed and tight, “Hold on, Little One, we’re coming.” You shook your head, there wasn’t time. “Tell Azriel I love him if I don’t make it, Rhys, promise me.” He responded but it muddled out, sounding like words shouted through a pool of water, then your brain fell quiet. The line severed. 

The stranger lifted your head, hand wrapped around your throat, as he bent to meet your crouched form. “I’ll be sure to savor this,” he smiled and the hilt of his sword came in fierce contact with your forehead. 

It was the early morning on your fifth day away when Rhys heard you. “Help,” it had come through so clearly that it startled Rhys awake and set his heart to racing. You’d only asked for help once, during the war when you were overrun and near death. You were in danger.

He’d sat up straight in bed, Feyre still sleeping silently at his side, hand resting on her pregnant stomach. “Where are you?!” He’d asked down the line, a little frantic, remembering the state he and Azriel had found you in last time. Gods, you’d been run through on a Hybern soldier’s sword, the damage was astronomical. Azriel had nearly killed everyone within a mile radius at the sight of you.

You recited your location in short bursts and Rhys focused on the bond of your bargain, using it to locate you with more precision. He reached out to Azriel then, “Get Cassian and meet me downstairs. Be ready to fly.” Azriel responded an affirmative and Rhys rushed around his room, grabbing his dagger lined belt, and using his magic to dress in his leathers quickly. He winnowed to the base of the stairs and was glad to find Cassian and Azriel waiting. 

“Tell him, please” you begged into Rhys’ mind then, words growing ragged. Rhys’ eyes slammed shut with a wince and he attempted to reassure you, “Hold on, Little One, we’re coming.” Rhys opened his eyes and looked to Azriel, who was watching him with anticipation. You responded again, words growing murkier, a little warbled. “Tell Azriel I love him if I don’t make it, Rhys, promise me.” Rhysand felt sick. “We will find you and you will tell him yourself,” he spoke but the bond was dead, silent, foreboding. Rhys thought he might vomit. 

He looked to Azriel again, “It’s her. She’s in trouble. We have to go.” Azriel’s face darkened with a thunderous ferocity. Mother help the males who’d harmed you. “Where?” He asked, voice deep with the threat of murderous violence. “The wilds on the border, off the coast of Day. I’ll winnow us as close as possible.” Azriel nodded his acquiesce and lifted a trembling hand to his hair, running scarred fingers through the strands. Cassian spoke then, “we will get her back,” he’d said softly as Rhysand put his hands to the two of them, preparing for the jump. “And we will kill every last one of them,” Cassian added darkly as blue-black shadows encased them and they disappeared. 

You awoke with a start, gasping like you’d been underwater. Your shoulders ached from your position. You pulled on your hands only to realize you were shackled to a tree somewhere deep in the forest, the same forest you’d been on the outskirts of earlier. You looked up to the sky, trying to find the sun to gauge how much time had passed. The sun had long moved past midday and was sinking towards the evening horizon. Your throat tightened. Where was Rhysand? 

“Nice of you to join us,” a voice spoke. It was the stranger again, he emerged from the camp set two hundred paces to your left, hidden by shrubs and underbrush. You got a good look at him this time. He was tall, leanly muscular in a way that reminded you of Lucien Vanserra. His hair was a dishwater blonde and lacked any sheen, falling in choppy dry waves around his shoulders. His face was gaunt, eyes sunken, bruised with a lack of rest, and his cheekbones were sharp, giving his face an angle that made him look harsh and unforgiving. Though he carried himself with confidence, you noticed a slight, barely there limp in his right leg, an old wound perhaps, one that never healed correctly. You noted that for later, if you ever got out of these shackles. 

You leveled a glare at him that you hoped looked more fearsome than you felt. Mother, your bones ached and your wounds throbbed. “I left the arrows in, but broke off the shaft. Didn’t want to have you healing too quickly.” He spoke with nonchalance, while polishing a dagger, your dagger, you realized as your eyes focused. You pulled at the shackles above your head, and the stranger chuckled at your attempt. 

“What do you want?” Your voice croaked, mouth dry from disuse. The stranger laughed, pointing the blade at you, “I want my fucking court and you’re the key to getting it.” You shook your head then, “I am nothing.” The words sounded foreign on your tongue, a lie on some level, you knew this, but you would be damned before you gave up your family. The stranger clicked his tongue at your response, shaking his head. 

“Surely you don’t believe that? The High Lord doesn’t trust easily, you’ve been seen with his entourage. The Shadowsinger’s whore.” He squatted a few feet from you, eyes tracing from your tied hands down to your face, pausing at your breasts, before trekking down your stomach, thighs, and calves. He was sizing up how much fight you had left.

Your brain had short circuited though, the Shadowsinger’s whore. Mother above, you’d never even kissed. How long had this male watched you and your family? How had none of you seen it? A bitter laugh wretched from your lungs, “sorry to disappoint, but the Shadowsinger isn’t mine.” No matter how desperately I’ve wished it so, you added silently. 

The stranger grinned then, “if you are truly nothing, then I’ll make this a little sweeter.” He took steps towards you, raising the dagger to rest at your chin, the blade pressing to the underside painfully. “You’re far too pretty to be nothing.” He ran the blade along the column of your throat, resting it against your sternum, between your breasts. You pushed yourself further into the tree, back protesting as the arrows burrowed deeper with the movement. You didn’t like the new angle this interaction had taken and your fight or flight instincts were screaming. 

You attempted to reach out to Rhysand, but the bond was dead silent. Your breathing hitched at the realization that you were truly alone in this. The stranger chuckled, dragging the blade down your chest, slicing the leathers, letting the fabric fall open and reveal your undergarments to his greedy view. Your legs moved to kick, but you realized quickly they too were tied. The blade came to rest at your bare stomach, and the stranger dug it in below the navel, causing blood to pool there. You winced, but made no sound. 

“Ah, I was hoping you’d be louder than that,” the stranger smirked, “I’ll have to try harder.” He backed up then and pulled a whip from his back pocket, unfurling it with a crack. Your eyes widened and you brain went silent, fear overtaking your senses. “There it is,” his smile gleamed with violent delight, “there’s the reaction I was hoping for.” He reared an arm back before cracking the whip in your direction. The leather made contact with your torso, a stinging slice appearing along your rib cage. You jerked, but bit your tongue.

He cracked it again and again until you were bloody, slices in your leathers, festering wounds along your breasts, ribs, and stomach. You’d counted to 25 lashes before your brain gave out and your vision blurred from the pain. You looked up to the sky wearily. The sun was gone and the stars were slowly appearing. You smiled at them, remembering Azriel’s words from that night all those years ago. 

You hoped he’d forgive you for not telling him. You hoped he’d understand your fear in revealing that secret, that the bond had snapped for you during the war. When that Hybern soldier’s sword pierced your armor, running through your body to the hilt, and he’d let out a fearsome bellow from across the field at the sight. You felt it then, the golden strumming taking the form of a fated thread linking you two. You been near death when he and Rhys had found you and the only thing you could do was smile. Such an ironic thing it was to die in the arms of your mate. 

Your head lolled to the side as exhaustion threatened to overtake you. “Azriel,” your thoughts ventured, calling down the bond he didn’t even know existed, “I love you.” Darkness swam in the corners of your vision but you swore you felt his responding tug. The Mother was kind for granting that hallucinative mercy in your final hours. Your body gave out, slumping against the shackles and darkness overwhelmed you. 

Azriel was furious. No, furious wasn’t the word, he was a walking time bomb. You were gone. His mate was missing and he was going to explode. As he’d arrived with Rhys and Cassian to the location you’d given them, he could smell you. His eyes searched frantically around the scene before him until they zeroed in on an item hanging from a branch a few dozen paces out. Cloth of some sort? He approached and could detect your scent on it, realizing quickly it was your clothing. A ripped cotton blouse. His fists clenched and he vaguely heard Rhysand speaking to his left. “They must’ve captured her here.” Rhys crouched down to the ground, two fingers swiping the dirt there, before bringing them eye level to examine sample. “Blood,” he muttered, rubbing the hand on the leg of his pants, “she was injured.” Azriel’s heart thundered, he was going to fucking explode. 

He set his shadows work, surveying the forest with rapid precision. They’d cover more ground this way, an army of three operating like a whole infantry. By the time the sun rose to midday, Azriel was ready to begin screaming. They trekked further into the forest, following a line of smoke that was miles deep, originating at a camp somewhere far into the wilds. His shadows murmured to him of a small band of males there, of you, shackled to a fucking tree, arrows buried in your back. He’d nearly lost the contents of his stomach at the information and set to a run alongside Rhysand and Cassian. 

As the three approached the encampment, the sun was nearing dusk. Rhysand had commanded the halt and strategize. There were roughly twenty-five men, all armed. They couldn’t enter this blindly and infuriated, they would lose if they weren’t careful. Azriel hated admitting he was right, his instincts screaming otherwise. Mate, mate, mate, his heart pounded. 

They backed off to a thousand paces out, close enough that they could hear if the troop vacated the premises. As Rhysand and Cassian spoke quietly, Azriel felt his heart thrum. The golden thread there had pulled him closer to you and he could tell you were still alive. Though Rhys couldn’t reach out through your bargain, Azriel’s bond was still alight and warm, he stroked it with gentle affection. You might not feel it, but Gods he would try. 

As the trio retraced their steps to the camp, stars were just beginning to light overhead and Azriel grasped his daggers tightly, knuckles cracking around the hilt. He was going to kill them. Kill them all brutally for taking you, for touching what was his. When they were within a stones throw from the camp he heard it, heard you. “Azriel,” you whispered into his mind. He went stock still, spine ramrod straight, fingers trembling as they gripped his knives. The golden bond vibrated in his chest, and he felt you reaching out through murky waters, against all odds. “I love you,” you said with a soft exhaustion before your side went dark. Azriel’s breathing guttered and he felt high on mirthroot, sick from fae wine, and enraged to the point of explosion all at once. His blue siphons flared brightly from the surge of power. He closed his eyes and reached out to you through the bond, tugging on the thread connecting your souls. He was coming. He was going to save you. 

Rhysand looked to him then, curiosity swimming in his eyes as he took in the Shadowsinger’s sudden stop. Azriel opened eyes, irises alight with fire and shadow, voice grinding with dark threat, “Let’s go.” Rhys nodded and Cassian drew his knives. 

They moved with brutal efficiency, killing male after male until none remained alive. Some had begged, others shouted and scattered their belongings as they set into a run. His shadows had caught them, twisting around their ankles and dragging them back to meet their fate, daggers slicing throats from ear to ear until blood poured like a prized hunt being slaughtered, the Illryian’s hands grasping and snapping necks like twigs. It was a practiced routine for the three of them, who’d trained since they were teens. 

As they stepped through the shrubs to find you, Cassian gasped and Azriel felt his lungs threaten to collapse at the sight. You’d been shackled to a tree at the wrists and ankles and whipped within an inch your life. Wounds glistened with blood along your thighs, soft stomach, ribs, breasts. There had to be thirty lashes. A knife wound was visible at your exposed navel. Your head hung forward unconscious and Azriel’s heart pounded. He wanted to vomit and his hands shook. 

“She said you’d come,” a voice said, emerging from behind the tree you were bound to. The male held a dagger to your throat. This new stranger had to be the leader of this band of idiots. Azriel’s eyes followed the tip of the blade up his arm to the male’s eyes and a growl escaped him as he bared his teeth. The male laughed, “to think she said she was nothing and yet I have both the Shadowsinger and the Lord of Bloodshed before me to save her.”

Azriel’s mind latched on to that piece of information, turning it over in his head. You’d told this male you were nothing? Did you not know Azriel would do anything for you? You were everything. You were his love, light of his life, keeper of his soul, his mate. How alone you must’ve felt, how scared. Azriel’s eyes narrowed, he was going kill him. 

Rhysand spoke then, emerging from behind the two Illyrian brothers, “And may I ask why you’ve abducted a member of my court?” He was in High Lord mode, tone bored, fingers picking at his sleeve. The Hybern male’s smile gleamed at the introduction, “just who I was hoping to see!” 

“Hybern, the old fool, made a few promises in his last days as King,” the male spoke, digging the blade down to your chest, where it rested over your heart. Azriel stared at the blade, eyes tracing to the the hilt. That was your blade, the one he’d given you when you first arrived in Velaris, the one you wielded against Eris, the one you kept strapped to your thigh. Your own knife had been used against you.

“One of which was that I would inherit these lands after your lot were annihilated.” Azriel wanted to laugh at the male’s words, was he serious? “A dead king cannot honor empty promises,” he ground out eyes shifting to the male’s blue eyes. “A dead and headless king cannot gift you shit,” Azriel spat. The male smiled then, a feline grin growing on his lips. “Precisely Shadowsinger, a dead king cannot give me my due, but this little thing can help.” You’d made a noise then, something akin to a whimper as you came to. Eyes wincing then fluttering open as your irises found Azriel’s immediately, some preternatural magnetism existing between the two of you. Then you looked to Cassian and Rhysand, and your eyes swam with apology.

“She awakens!” The male sang, looking to you. Azriel jumped at the opportunity to send his shadows out while the male’s attention was elsewhere. They traced over the ground to you, circling the tree and working at your binds. He sent two others towards the distracted male. “Who knew the Night Court was so attached to a whore,” the male laughed, “I want my lands,” he fixed Rhysand with a glare, “you can have your plaything back in exchange for my seat, High Lord” he sneered. 

Rhysand looked from you to the stranger to the shadow now creeping ever closer to the male. “You must be mistaken,” Rhys said then and Azriel’s shadows wrapped around the male’s neck and wrist simultaneously, whispering violence for touching their mate, forcing the dagger from his grasp and air from his lungs. Azriel tightened them until they heard bones crack in the male’s arm and choked sounds exit his throat, face reddening as oxygen was cut off. “I do not make deals with dim witted cunts,” Rhysand said darkness beginning to surround him, High Lord voice encroaching, “I do not entertain terrorists and I do not take kindly to threats on my family.” 

‘Finish him,’ Rhysand said darkly into Azriel’s mind and the Shadowsinger moved with lightening precision, dagger find purchase as the male’s neck was sliced open and his right hand was removed from his body. The male’s body toddled forward with a choked gurgling, before falling to the ground, lifeless, blood pooling.

Azriel’s gaze fell to you and he softened. His shadows finished picking the lock of the shackles that held your arms and they clicked open, allowing your body to fall into his. “Azriel,” you breathed, voice weary with exhaustion, “I didn’t— I—“ you stuttered, pulling a shaking hand to his face. You swallowed, tracing his cheek with trembling fingers, “I didn’t think I’d see you again,” you murmured, your watery eyes searching his face, memorizing the details of his visage.

Azriel picked you up in his arms and unfurled his wings protectively. “I will always come for you,” he said vehemently, eyes watching your face with intensity. You smiled, a weepy trembling smile as you nodded. Rhysand reached the Shadowsinger’s side then and your eyes moved to his violet ones, “Hi Little One, I’m so sorry we’re late.” You let out a single watery laugh before wincing as the sudden expansion of your chest burned the wounds littering your chest and back. 

“The arrows,” you gasped, “at my back,” you twisted in Azriel’s hold, “please get them out.” Rhysand leaned down to inspect the wounds. “Faebane,” he surmised, that’s why his connection to you had been severed. “We need to get her to Madja, now.” Azriel nodded, allowing Rhys and Cassian to move closer so the High Lord could winnow them home. 

Landing back at the House of Wind had been chaotic. Rhysand shouted immediately to get every healer available and the dining room table had been lined with a sheet, turning the warm family room into a medical ward. You were laid facedown on the table and Azriel took to your side, scarred hands touching your face, keeping you awake as Madja worked to remove the six arrows burrowed in your body. 

You’d screamed. The sound would haunt Azriel for centuries. You begged to make it stop and Madja had apologized softly as she worked faster to remove them while minimizing damage. “I’ve got you,” Azriel said softly, “eyes on me, alright?” He rubbed the hollow under your eye with a scarred thumb and you opened your eyes to lock on his. “No gloves,” you said, smiling tightly, before wincing as Madja applied local anesthetic to an arrow wound. Azriel smiled, eyes a little watery. “Not with you,” he whispered shaking his head, “never with you.” You smiled at him and the sight set Azriel’s heart to fluttering.

Later, after the arrows had been removed and wounds bandaged, you’d been given a strong herb tonic for pain that set your head swimming as exhaustion overtook you. Azriel carried you his room, laying you gently onto the mattress and covered you with the duvet. He leaned down then, breathing in your scent as he placed a kiss to your forehead, nuzzling his nose to the Winter white hair there. He would tell you. When you awoke, he would bare his soul to you. 

You woke with a groan. Fucking Gods, your body ached with the effort it took to roll over. “Easy,” a voice came from the corner of the room. Your breath gasped out of you as your eyes raced to the figure there. “Azriel,” you breathed. The male smiled warmly at you and stepped forward to rest at the edge of the mattress. You pushed up in the bed, the wound at your shoulder screaming from the exertion. Once in a sitting position, you rested your back on the headboard as you looked at him. “For taking out a small militia, you seemed to be decently uninjured,” you said smiling tightly, memories of the stranger and his whip haunting your mind. He snorted a small laugh, “Yes well,” he looked down then, thumbs fiddling with each other, chest heating, “I had something worth fighting for.” 

He looked back to you and your cheeks had grown pink, a small pleased smile at your lips. “I heard you, you know,” he said softly, turning enough to rest a hand on your thigh, thumb drawing small, soothing circles there. The heat generated in the touch sent a spark to your belly. Oh, you were fucked. “I heard you in my head, through the bond,” he said eyes watching his thumb as it traced on your bare skin hypnotically. 

“You know then?” You whispered, breath skittering out of you. You were scared to death of the trajectory the conversation was taking, your heart preparing for the best and the worst simultaneously. Azriel’s eyes dragged up your form to your face and a smile broke over his lips, one that caused your heart to ignite. Your Mother had once told you the heart was an organ of fire and you’d laughed, never having cause to believe such a statement. You understood now. 

“I—“ Azriel started, before clearing his throat, turning his body to face you in full, a knee pulled up on the mattress, touching yours. “In the whole time I have known you— two centuries, Little One,” he looked at you pointedly, “you have been my dearest friend, my greatest comfort, my confidant, and the person I admire most in this Gods forsaken world.” He breathed deeply, a whoosh exiting his lips as his hand tightened around your thigh. “The times when you were lost to me have been some of the most painful moments I’ve experienced.” 

Your eyes began to water, and you moved a hand to rest atop his own, thumb circling the scarred skin at his wrist. He took a breath then and the air shifted between you, his mouth opening and closing, as if he was gathering his confidence for what he was about to say next. “I have loved for you so long that I’d given up all hope of reciprocation.” The words shattered through you as all air escaped your lungs, guts swooping down as heat alighted there. “I felt the bond the night Eris came for you,” he continued, eyes watching your entwined hands. Your body went still and a startled laugh exited your mouth. Azriel’s eyes flew to yours questioningly. 

“Sorry,” you chuckled again, “I’m just realizing how fucking stupid we’ve been.” You lolled your to the side, watching him with loving eyes. “I’ve been in love with you for almost two centuries, Azriel,” you smiled, “I thought you wouldn’t want me.” Azriel’s eyes widened, his mouth opening and closing in disbelief, two then three times. You thought for a second to compare him to the guppy fish that swam in schools along the banks of the Sidra but refrained. 

He pushed forward then, hands coming to cup your face, pinky and ring fingers resting in the hollow below your ear, thumbs stroking your cheeks. “How could I not? You’re everything,” he whispered, searching your face, conviction showing in his eyes. You couldn’t stop the smile that overtook your mouth as you spoke, “and you’re my mate.” His eyes moved to your lips, glazing before they moved back to your eyes. “As you are mine,” he spoke confidently. 

Your eyes watched each other for a long second, “I really hope you’ll kiss me this time,” your hand trailed up his arm, fingers teasing. “Mother knows I’ve been dreaming of it for far too long.” He surged forward, lips meeting yours and you thought you might float away. You gasped and his tongue moved in, claiming your mouth, your taste with his own. 

He pulled away minutes later, a little breathless, “Sorry to have kept you waiting, my love,” he spoke, resting his forehead to yours with a smile, watching your dazed expression, pink cheeks, as your lips split into a grin. Your hand moved to the front of his button down, fisting in the material there, giving an experimental tug. “Kiss me like that again and I’ll consider forgiving you.” 

The laugh that came out of him was golden, and you pushed yourself to memorize it. Azriel, Lord of Shadows, Spymaster for the Night Court, Rhysand’s right hand and Illyrian warrior was soft for you. He loved you. He was your mate. You’d be giddy about it for the rest of your life. 

Your healing had been slower than you would’ve liked. The faebane had done serious damage but with Madja’s help, the scarring was minimized. The lashes at your front took two weeks to heal, the arrow wounds took three. Three fucking weeks. Meanwhile all you could think about was your mate. He hadn’t left your side in the interim. Helping you take steps, applying the wound creams that Madja had left in small glass pots, keeping you fed, making you laugh, telling you how much he loved you daily. Mother above, you were going to ruin this male. 

You walked into the kitchen at the end of week three, the only evidence of your wounds now in the slight limp of your right leg and twinge in your left shoulder. The marks at your stomach and chest had diminished into barely there, silver scores. Cassian was sitting at the small table in the corner as you entered. “Hi Cass,” you greeted, “seen my mate around this morning?” It was fun calling him that, a small part of your chest swelling with pride each time. 

Cassian smirked, “He’s been…… out.” Your eyes narrowed, he was being evasive. “Out where?” You asked, grabbing an apple and hopping up on the counter to watch the male. He shrugged, “No idea, Little One.” You smirked, “I know where you sleep Cassian,” you started, “is it really wise to lie to me?” Nesta strode into the kitchen, “What’s he done now?” She asked laughing. “Hey! I’ll have you know I’ve done nothing!” The male exclaimed, “She’s interrogating me on the whereabouts of her maaate.” He dragged out the vowel of the last word mockingly. Nesta took her seat next to Cassian and laughed, “Ah, him.” She looked to you then, “he’ll be around to collect you soon.” 

You looked between the two, suspicion dripping from your features as you took another bite from the apple in your palm. “You two are being weird,” you stated. Nesta shrugged, nudging Cassian who smiled at her. “Just wait,” she said softly, “maybe cook yourself a meal.” Cassian’s mouth quirked with a laugh he restrained. “Right, I’m leaving, cause whatever this is,” you waved a hand at them, “is deeply odd.” You hopped off the counter and strolled to the exit.  You heard them laughing softly once you were out of the room, making you roll your eyes at their antics.

You’d gone to the library after leaving the kitchen and found Elain already there. Her eyes moved to you upon your entrance and she closed her book, middle finger marking her spot. “How are you feeling?” She asked softly, eyes surveying your body for lingering damage. You sighed, falling into the sofa across from her. “I’m better,” you said quietly, “the pain is gone, scars are minimal.” You turned your eyes to her, she looked brighter than the last time you’d seen her. “How are you?” You asked in return. She smiled sweetly. “Better,” she echoed you and you wanted to laugh. “I’ve been exchanging letters with Lucien,” she added and your ears perked up.

“That’s great, Elain,” you rest your chin on a closed fist, watching her. She shifted and sat her book to the side, page forgotten. “I want to tell you something,” she said quietly, fingers twiddling with each other. She looked... nervous? “I’m all ears,” you said softly. 

“I had a vision while you were gone,” she started and took a deep breath. “It was so muddled at first, I couldn’t tell who it was, but then I saw you. Your hair was longer, you stood taller, and your belly was round.” The breath left your body in a powerful exhale. She looked to you again, eyes watching yours, “You were pregnant and happy and in love,” she said quietly, as if the words in themselves were fragile. Your hands trembled and you moved them under your thighs, her eyes didn’t miss the action. 

“I couldn’t understand why the Mother would send me a vision like that, I saw Feyre’s pregnancy, but we’re sisters, you know?” You nodded. “Then I realized I recognized the tattooed arm I’d seen wrap around you, knew it was Azriel.” Your eyes watered, and you hiccuped out a small laugh. “I’ve known for a while you two were fated, but the Mother was telling me for certain. I hope you know how happy we are for you.” She finished and moved to sit next you, small hand touching your knee. 

“When they brought you in that night, I thought the Mother had lied to me, that it was a vision of what could have been, that you wouldn’t make it.” You’d never heard Elain speak at length in this way, and you thought you might stop breathing. “I’ve never been happier to see you than when Azriel brought you in to read days later, my sweet friend.” You surged forward, throwing your arms around the female and she returned the gesture warmly. 

You sat back and looked at her then. “Thank you,” you said, voice small, a little watery. She nodded before turning to resume her original spot at the end of the sofa, picking up her book and opening it to the page she’d left off. 

In the hours that followed, you’d returned to the kitchen, grateful to find Cassian and Nesta had left. You took Nesta’s advice, gathering the ingredients to build a small berry tart. It had just gone in the oven when your mate appeared in the doorway.

“Hello love,” he said casually, leaning against the door jamb. You startled, turning on your heel to find him smiling at you. “Where have you been?” You asked walking towards him and running your hands around his midsection in a hug, head resting against his chest. His arm came around your shoulders as he pressed a kiss to your hair, breathing in your scent. “That, my dearest one, is a surprise.” 

You looked up chin resting against his chest, watching his face. “It’d better be good, I baked for you,” you said, smiling softly at the Spymaster. His eyes moved to the oven then and back to you, irises darkening, as his pupils blew a little wide. “You… baked?” He asked disbelieving, “didn’t know you knew how to bake,” he followed up playfully. You gasped and shoved him, “for that, you can starve, have fun finding another mate to bake for you.” He laughed heartily and caught your hand, bringing your knuckles to his lips, eyes swimming with warm affection as he pressed a kiss there. Gods, the action made lust swoop in your stomach, heat spreading. 

“The fool I’d be to turn away such a female,” he said, voice deepening, lips running across your knuckles with each word. “Azriel” you breathed. “Yes?” He offered in return, still smiling, moving your knuckles back and forth against his hot mouth. “Please tell me this surprise involves you bedding me.” A growl creeped out of his throat, the thought of you under him sending lust racing down his spine and to his groin. 

“It might,” he said quietly, lips resuming their exploration, tracking small kisses from your knuckles, to the joint of your thumb, the inside of your wrist where Rhys’ tattoo lingered, up the soft skin of your arm, to your elbow, until he reached the skin of your shoulder. His lips traced over the raised skin there, a small nip above the scar as he traced north to your collarbone. You’d gone to putty in his hands, head rolling to the side to bare your throat. He pressed soft kisses there, pausing at your pulse point to trace the area with his warm tongue, a whimper escaping your mouth. 

“If this is going to become a regular thing, I’ll need you two to relocate to the River House,” a voice came from behind you and you jumped in shock, but your mate, he let out a possessive growl before turning on the intruder. Rhysand laughed airily and folded his arms over his chest. “Easy, brother,” he smiled, causing Azriel to roll his eyes. You blinked a little dazed, and pulled away from the Shadowsinger. “You’re gonna make me burn my fucking tart,” you shoved him with an arm and laughed as you turned to resume your place at the oven. 

Azriel instructed you to dress comfortably and be ready in a hour as he kissed your knuckles one last time and exited the kitchen. Butterflies roamed freely in your stomach at the thought of what he had planned. You’d returned to your quarters after removing the tart from the oven and portioning it into a small travel sized container. You were going to accept the bond, and your nerves were alight with anxious excitement. After you dressed in a lightweight linen dress, you packed a small bag with your remaining creams, and the boxed tart you’d prepared earlier. 

You descended the stairs to find Azriel waiting at the base, his wings standing proudly behind him, shadows skittering around his feet. At the sight of you they raced to meet on the bottom step, running up your legs, around your waist and into your hair. A laugh escaped you as one nuzzled into the space behind your ear. Azriel watched fondly. “They love you,” he said smiling, taking a step to meet you, “ever since the bond snapped, I’ve had the hardest time reining them back from touching you.” 

You reached a hand out to meet his, interlacing your fingers. “They’re cute, but you’re cuter,” you said with gentle affection. A shadow pinched at your waist and Azriel’s cheeks went a little pink as he laughed. 

“Will you tell me what the surprise is?” You asked as he walked you toward the training balcony. “I’m afraid I’m very poorly dressed for training,” you joked. He snorted, “no, we’re not training.” He came to rest at the railing and then turned to you, running a hand up your arm, fingers moving to hold the back of your neck, warm palm heating the skin there, thumb grazing your jawline. “Amongst many things I’ve been terribly late for recently, I realize I owe you a date.” 

Your face went a little puzzled and you looked to his eyes. “A date?” You questioned. He nodded, “I was supposed to take you flying.” Realization dawned on your features and a smile overtook your lips, each tooth shining in the setting sun. “I wanted to kiss you that night too,” you admitted laughing, remembering how desperate you’d been for his touch and attention. He smiled softly, “you have no idea how angry I was with Rhys for calling me away.” Your eyes widened, still in disbelief that this male wanted you return. It seemed both a millennia in the making and still so new and fragile. 

Azriel snuck an arm around your waist and brought you up into the stretch of his firm body. His other hand tracing down your hip, then thigh, to curve under your knees as he picked you up. His wings unfurled and he shot into the air. A shaky laugh startled out of you and you gripped him tighter, your arms winding around his neck. His wings flapped in thunderous bursts, taking you higher, until you could see the entirety of Velaris spread below, the Sidra flowing like a snake through the winding city. Your breath left you in awe. “The Peregryn was right,” you said loud enough for him to hear and he smiled, pressing a kiss to your temple.

The flight was short, but it took you to the rural banks of the Sidra on the outskirts of the city, just before it emptied into the sea. You could see ships sailing into the harbor, moonlight beginning to trickle across the water. This was undeniably special, you thought, no one would see you up here and you felt like this was the edge of the world itself. You turned to Azriel, finding his eyes already watching you. “Thank you,” you said softly, leaning into him, his chin meeting your forehead as you moved your body to rest alongside the length of his. His hand came to rest at the small of your back, pinky stretching to graze the curve of your bottom. Wherever this was going, you were very interested. 

He turned and grasped your hand, pulling you back up the hill and away from the view, towards a field of wildflowers and grasses. There, in the middle, a blanket had been laid out, small candles lit to illuminate the setting. A basket sat in one corner, a bottle of fae wine held within with an assortment of pastries, breads, and cheeses. You realized quickly that your mate, the male you’d loved for damn near two centuries, was courting you. The thought thrilled you. 

He led you to the blanket and motioned for you to sit next him. “I must confess, I never took you for a romantic,” you said looking from the candles, to the basket, and then to him. He was watching you again. He smiled, laughing a bit nervously, “I’m a lot of things,” he said and your eyebrow quirked. “Oh yeah? Like what?” You challenged him and he loved you for it. You made him feel easy to love, you made loving fun and freeing. Azriel had once only thought freedom could be found in fucking and flying, then he’d found you and he knew it was there too. In the smile of your lips, in the thrill of your touch, in the ease of your love. 

“Well,” he started, moving his wings to lean into you, pressing a kiss to your exposed shoulder. The action caused you to shiver. “I’m a spymaster.” You snorted, “no shit.” A laugh rumbled in his chest. “I’m a bit shy as you well know, I’m quite fond of dancing, I’m—” he hummed the last letter, pausing his thoughts and moving his lips up your neck. “I’m in love with you,” he said biting into the flesh at the juncture of your collarbone and throat, cock hardening at the sound that rolled out of your mouth. “I’m going to take you right here, on this blanket, under the stars.” 

You gasped, your hands moved find purchase in the hair at the back of his head, fingers winding through the strands, nails dragging at his scalp. His nose ran the length of your jawline before his lips found yours. He rumbled a small hum the instant his mouth touched your own. At first it was a gentle press, teasing you as he had done today in the kitchen at the House of Wind. The adrenaline racing up your spine made you feel like you might vibrate out of your skin. His hand reached up then, threading broad fingers into your hair as he took the kiss deeper. Tonguing the bottom of your lip until your mouth opened, his tongue stroking your own. Humming with contentment, he tilted your head, deepening the kiss at a new angle that had heat swooping down to your core. 

You brought your left hand to his shoulder, fisting your fingers in the fabric there and pulling him closer. He understood your intention and leaned you back into the blanket, pleasure alighting each nerve as his body pressed into your own. He eased up on your lips and began a slow trek south, pulling the strap of your dress down the curve of your shoulder, leaving a love bite there that had you gasping. He kissed down the bust line of the dress, laving his tongue at the swell of your breast. Your breath was coming in pants and you pressed yourself up on your elbows as he moved further south, fingertips tracing the hem of your dress that had risen to the middle of your thigh. 

He looked back to you and smiled, mischief playing in his eyes as he ran his hands up your thighs, the slow drag pulling the dress with it. “I’ve been thinking about your cunt for centuries,” he said, his lips on your knee, pressing insistently as they moved north. “I’ve been dreaming of making you come on my tongue since I met you.”

Your breath leaves you in one fell swoop as you feel his tongue at the juncture of your hip and thigh. His mouth was insistent at skin there, tonguing the lace of your panties before pulling them down your legs and off entirely. He picked up a foot, placing it to his chest as he traced the long line of your body with hungry eyes. You were panting already, dressed rucked up around your waist, straps fallen down your arms and breasts heaving. His gaze flowed south and landed on your pink cunt, glistening, begging for him. His eyes went back to your face then, and his titled his head to the side, “Will you let me eat your pretty little cunt?” He asked fingertips tracing the scars of your calf with reverence. He brought your foot up, kissing the inside of the ankle, then nosing his way over your scarred calf, suckling at the skin there. “Please,” he added, eyes moving back to yours as his mouth continued his ministrations. 

“Mother above, Azriel,” you breathed and a laughed startled out of you, “you are mouthy.” He chuckled darkly then, nipping at your knee, taking special care to press a gentle kiss at the new scar there. “Is that a no then?” He said softly and your head fell back with a groan, exposing your neck to his view. “As if,” you said, head pulling back up and lolling to the side to rest on your shoulder. “I’ve thought about it too, and if you back out now I will explode.” He laughed again, freely this time, forehead resting on your thigh. 

His eyes find yours again, and he kept them there as he traced his lips north. He nosed the juncture of your cunt and inner thigh, running a tongue along your mound. You gasped and eyes narrowed, watching him with rapt attention. He pressed a kiss to the top of your slit and his hands come up to open you to him, pulling the lips apart and tonguing the collected moisture there. Your head fell back as your elbows gave way, falling flat against the blanket. 

“You taste better than I imagined,” he said before wrapping his lips around your clit and sucking. The moan that left you had his hips pushing into the ground to find relief as his cock begged for release. His tongue flicked against your clit as he sucked and hummed. He thought this might become his favorite place in all of Prythian. He thought that every bad thing that had happened in his life seemed insignificant now that he was able to worship freely between your thighs. He traced fingers up and paused to wet them on his tongue, before pushing his middle and ring finger in to the second knuckle, pulling them out and scissoring them back in again. His tongue found your sweet little button for a second time that night and he laved at it, listening to your cries as he pushed you to the brink. Azriel’s life had been a nightmare, but between your thighs, mouth on your cunt, walls fluttering around his fingers, he thought he’d been blessed by the Mother herself. 

Your hips rocked up in time with his fingers and you cried as your gut twisted, the coil there tightening. “Az-“ you gasped. “Azriel,” you went a little whiny on the vowels of his name, and your hand reached down to thread your fingers into his hair, nails scratching and tugging the strands. He hummed, the vibration sending shocks up your spine. “Azriel, baby,” you gasped, coming up on an elbow again, rutting your hips into his face as he took you higher. He didn’t let up, suckling at your cunt, fingers finding the spongy spot on the backside of your clit that made the world go blank “Azriel!” you gasped again, hips stuttering out, “Fuck, fuck— oh.” In seconds you were reaching your peak, hips faltering, thighs twitching, toes curling into the hard planes of his back. 

He pulled his mouth off of you, pressing kisses to your pubic bone as he moved north up your stomach. He eyes were alight with desire, the male was pure want and you were his last meal. He pulled his fingers from your cunt and trailed them up to rest at your neck as he slotted his body between your thighs and kissed you. The hedonism of tasting yourself on his mouth made you wetter, cunt pressing into the hard line of his cock, still restricted in his trousers. He moaned at the contact, mouth leaving yours to rest his head against your chin and gather himself. The sound sent a pleasurable shock directly to your core. You grasped the hand at your throat and brought his fingers up and to your mouth, tongue laving at them before taking them to the knuckle, and pulling back slow, hollowing out your cheeks and sucking, keeping your eyes on his. He bared his teeth the sight and ground his hard cock into you, the friction on your clit making your thighs twitch. 

“My sweet little mate,” he cooed. “Love of my life,” he nosed your cheek, his fingers still in your mouth. “All my dreaming has been put to shame it would seem,” he pulled his fingers from your mouth and replaced them with his tongue, his hands flying to his belt. He growled in struggle and you ventured a laugh. His eyes found yours and his jaw ticked, “keep laughing, sweet girl, I’ll fuck your throat next and you won’t come.” Your eyes went a little wide and a feline grin appeared on your face. “Mouthy indeed,” you said with glee as he finally got the buckle undone and pushed the pants down and off. 

His shirt went next and your fingers traced up his exposed arms to his shoulders. “I’ve seen you shirtless a dozen times, and you still take my breath away,” you said softly, a hand resting on his pectoral. He laughed and went a little pink, before he pushed your dress up your body and over your head, leaving you bare. “I’ve always been impressed by your ability to so disarming,” he said, mouth finding the space above your breast as his hands came to cup them, fingers toying with the nipples. “It’s my favorite thing about you, you see me in a way I can’t even see myself,” he followed up. 

Your eyes watered at the admission and your hands found his face, bringing his mouth back to yours as you kissed him again, tongue entwining with his. Your hands grasped his shoulders, as your leg found his hip and you pushed him over, onto his back. Your hands came to rest on his chest as you settled your weight on his lower abdomen. You could feel his manhood standing to attention, insistent at the curve of your ass and you reached around to grasp it, pushing your chest out for his greedy eyes. Taking him in long strokes, you ran your hand up and down, circling your thumb around the head. His eyes screwed shut as his breathing shallowed. 

“Wanna know a secret, baby?” You offered, rocking your hips in time with your strokes. He whined then, the Lord of Shadows keened a little whine for you that had you ready to come right there. “Last time we hosted a gala, that night before Hybern,” you were panting, “all I could think about was taking you to bed.” His eyes opened and hazel was gone blacked out in pure desire. His hands found your hips and his own began to move in time with you. “I thought about riding you,” you said, twisting your hand in a way that had his breath guttering out of him. “I thought you might love me in the way you looked at me.” His eyes softened and he leaned up, hands tracing up your spine as he pressed kisses to your chest. 

“I loved you that night and every night since,” he said before tonguing a nipple and sucking it into his mouth. “That dress you wore, my color, had me hard for a week.” You laughed then removing your hand from his cock and bringing both to his face, so you could kiss him. His hands slipped to your ass then, palming the cheeks as his tongue moved in tandem with yours. When you moved back from him, a string of salvia still connected you two, you reached up to comb fingers through his hair gently.

“I brought you something,” you said quietly, looking to the corner of the quilt where your bag had dropped ages ago. His brow furrowed, confusion showing in his features. “You don’t have to, but I brought some of that tart. If you want,” you offered the statement nervously, as if there was still a chance for rejection. Azriel’s heart went soft and his brain turned to mush.

“You want to accept it?” He questioned, hands sliding up your back and to your waist. You smiled and looked at him incredulously, “Of course I want to accept it, it feels like I’ve waited a millennia for you.” You’d laughed a bit and that feeling of home raced through him again. Gods, he was fucked. 

You leaned off his lap, pulling the strap of your bag to you and unzipped it. There, packaged in a little glass container, lay a small slice of the berry tart you’d fretted over earlier in the day. “Nesta made some stupid comment about ‘cooking’ when I’d asked where you were,” you laughed in hindsight at the female’s leading words. “She knew because Cassian knew, he helped me with the food and candles,” Azriel murmured pushing your hair up and over your shoulder. 

He pulled the container from your grasp then and opened it before picking the pastry up with his fingers, the same fingers that had been inside you minutes ago. Eyes on yours he took the first bite, your heart thrumming as the golden thread of your bond lit up like the sunrise. His eyes never left yours as he consumed the pastry in four bites, swallowing and pulling his fingers into his mouth at the remaining sweetness there. 

The bond between you two was shining, strong and thrumming with love. ‘Hi,’ you tried, your thoughts reaching out to him. He smiled, laughing freely, and his voice came through clearly, ‘Hi, Little One.’ You choked out a laugh, eyes watering as you leaned forward to kiss him, tasting the berries on his tongue. ‘Can I make love to my mate now?’ He questioned down the bond and you laughed again. His hands were already tracing your hips as you leaned forward, hand reaching underneath to guide him into your cunt. Lowering yourself down, you rocked forward once then twice in order to take him to the hilt. 

Mother above, he was big. His cock was thick and filled you wholly, pushing against your cervix making your eyes flutter in pleasure. You thought of the comment Mor had made about wingspan once decades ago and you heard him laugh, “I’m flattered, truly,” he said playfully, reading your thoughts and nipping at your shoulder.

You rose up again and set to riding him slowly, hips moving in long strokes as his hands traced your ass, pulling at the flesh there in time with your movements. You gave a experimental squeeze of your walls, and he keened a loud moan that had you speeding up your flow. “You keep that up, Little One and I won’t last,” he panted at your throat. “That’s rather the point,” you laughed breathlessly, your own hand moving to cup your breast, the other sliding down to circle your clit. His eyes traced the view greedily, moving down to the point where you connected, watching your cunt take him in full, his cock glistening with your shared wetness. He bared his teeth at the sight, a rumble lighting in his chest. 

Just as your walls began to flutter with your impending orgasm, he grasped you and flipped you to your back, pulling your hands from your body and entwining your fingers with his own on each side of your head. He ground his pelvis in deep and your legs hitched higher around his waist. “Azriel, fucking Gods,” you called out at the switch in angle, the tip of his cock grinding into your cervix. He hummed at your throat, teeth marking you there as his hips pulled out and pushed in, grinding each time he bottomed out into you. His wings flared behind him and you thought you’d never seen a more beautiful sight. 

“You take me so well, my love,” he panted, “you were made for me.” You whined then, cunt fluttering around him as he bottomed out deep and held it there, grinding his pubic bone into your clitoris. The pleasure raced up your spine and you thought you’d never be able to leave this place, might have to keep him inside you forever. He growled, reading your thoughts. “You want me to fuck this cunt forever?” He asked aloud leaning up, pulling his hands from yours. 

You whined at the loss, but the sound died as he pulled your legs up his waist to his shoulders, kissing the scarred calf. He drew his cock out, only to slam back in. “Fuck,” you moaned out, voice going up two octaves. “You want me between your thighs for the rest of my days?” He said again, hips moving faster, your hands moving to your tits as they bounced from the impact. His eyes watched the movement and he bared his teeth again, turning his head to bite into the flesh of your calf. 

“Azriel!” You called out again, pleasure zipped up your spine and you felt your stomach tighten. “Az, baby, I’m so close.” He chuckled darkly. “Be a good girl and come on my cock,” he said as his fingers traced down your leg to find your clit, rubbing the bundle in quick, timed circles. “Az- I-,” you barely got the words out before your orgasm overtook you, a long moan exiting your mouth as your cunt tightened around him, he ground into you and worked you through it, before dropping your legs back to his hips and pistoning deeper.

“My sweet mate,” he gasped at the skin of your throat, mouth tracing up to find yours, hands finding purchase on your thighs as he pulled you open, allowing him dive deeper. “My darling love,” he moaned and his tongue moved with yours, your hips pushing up to meet his thrusts, walls fluttering against his velvet length with the remnants of your orgasm. 

You ventured your hand up his shoulder to the base of a wing and traced your fingers up the membrane to the bone. His eyes twisted shut, and he keened a low primal whine that had your cunt ready to come again. At the tightening of your walls, he groaned dark and deep, shadows seeping from him, as he pushed in, grinding against the innermost portion of you. His hips pulled out slightly and then pushed back in as his cock kicked, come spurting against your walls. He panted against your throat as his hands released their hold on your thighs and moved up your body before grasping your throat. He moved up to lean over you and his eyes found your own. He gave an experimental thrust of his hips and your eyes widened. Fucking Cauldron, he was still hard. 

He laughed then, nuzzling at your mouth as he nipped at your bottom lip. “I’m giving you five,” his voice was deeper than you’d ever heard it, “and then I’m eating my come from your cunt and fucking you until the sun comes up.” 

You gasped out a laugh as your arms wrapped around his shoulders. ‘They call it frenzy for a reason,’ you thought, kissing along his cheekbone and to his mouth. Gods, you were fucked. 

#acotar fanfiction #acotar x reader #acotar x you #azriel shadowsinger #azriel x reader #azriel x you #azriel acotar #azriel spymaster #azriel supremacy #i love this bat boy sm #azriel fanfic #azriel smut #hoo boy this is nasty #Save a horse ride a bat boy am i right? #bat boys #bat boys x reader #azriel imagine #acotar imagine #acomaf #acowar #acosf #acofas #azriel acomaf #azriel acosf

[moonchild1]

park jimin fic rec list (Ⅲ)

woah it really has been a long time since i posted but i am so glad to be back and to get back into reading i saw so many of my favourite authors have updated and i am beyond excited to start this journey again but in the mean time here's jimin rec list as promised it was so exciting finishing this list cause i got so nostalgic making it and reading all the old fics i had on my reading list ughhh i just loved it so much and it got me back into the swing of things and i cant wait to make more lists, i do have another jjk list ready and i will post it the day after tomorrow so i hope you enjoy this one and don't forget to show all the love and support in the world to these amazing authors they work so hard to create these fics for us and they deserve endless praise and love for the commitment and generosity they have so please do leave them a comment, heart or reblog a small comment can go a long way here and can make someone smile even bigger so dont don't shy away from making someone happy... as usual you guys know this fics i recommend contain smut so minors don't interact you will be blocked... i really do love hearing from you guys so if you do have a little fic you are super into right now and you just want to rant about how amazing it is feel free to send me an ask 😊🖤

a- angst s- smut f- fluff

series

plot twist by @xpeachesncream f s a

↳ jimin isn’t interested in fake dating, but he’s definitely interested in getting to know someone the right way. after all, he feels like he’s ready to put himself out there and give it all he’s got. so, he takes a risk in trying something completely out of his comfort zone and hops on the new, popular dating app - only to come across and get to know someone he didn’t expect to meet.

a remedy for mondays by @dovechim s

↳ all you wanted was just one day off work. but for that to happen, you need to invent a plausible reason. and then somehow, somewhere along the way, things get out of hand, and now people think you’re having a baby with your co-worker Park Jimin after a one-night stand. confused? join the club.

it’s okay, that’s love by @/dovechim f s a deals with deep subjects

↳ People are constantly making some kind of connection with each other- be it friendship or romance. But human bonds always lead to messy complications; commitment, sharing, driving people to the airport, letting them get up close and personal with the darkest parts of ourselves. And sure- it’s scary as hell to watch them cross those boundaries you’ve so meticulously drawn, but it’s okay, because that’s love.

so it goes by @/dovechim f s

↳ Park Jimin knows a lot about humans. of course he does, he studies them for a living. he knows that they say hello by holding hands, and when they say goodbye, they put their arms around each other. but this particular human, he notes, is unlike the rest- stuck in a slump, going about your day praying for the Universe to stage an intervention in the form of an alien abduction. when he decides to finally fulfil your wishes, he finds that you have a little something to teach him about what it means to live life on Earth the way you do: ugly crying, underwear and all. in return, he shows you the possibilities that abound if you simply adopted their mantra: everything is beautiful, and nothing hurts.

love again by @taestefully-in-luv f s a

↳ A friend of yours is eager to introduce you to her new man but what happens when Park Jimin, the man who broke your heart 5 years ago walks in through the door?

the other woman: the seduction and the illusion by @namjooningelsewhere f s a

↳ No one told you being the other woman would never be easy, No one told you that his love would be two sides to a same coin. No one told you he came to you because you were his escape to his demons. No one told you he would always call you his, but he would never be yours. And most importantly no one told you, He never loved you because you dont destroy the people you love.

FUTURE HEARTS by @jungblue f s a ft. jjk

↳ It was everything, from his tattoos, to his touches, to the way sweat rolled down his neck as he strummed into his guitar on stage; everything about him completely enthralled you. So why are you now, two and a half years later, on a train to Seoul, telling a complete stranger the recollection of how you became fated to forever have scars on all of your future hearts due to the happiness, but most of all the pain, that came along with falling in love with Jeon Jungkook. 

after the applause by @foxymoxynoona

↳ Jimin doesn't know how he would have made it this far after the shattering of his world without the support of his thoughtful, generous, helpful neighbor. Hanbyul has lived next to hottie Jimin and his adorable daughter for years now, long enough to remember the wife he was so devoted to and lost far too young. With each safely ensconced on their side of the brick wall of the Parks' grief, it will take an enterprising little scientist to set the stage for a second chance at love.

saved by @to-star-lake s a

rockstar au deep subjects read warnings

midnight memories by @hobipaint f s a

↳ there's drunk habits, and then there's drunk mistakes. What do you call meeting your friend - no, ‘former friend’ - at a bar, getting drunk with him and sleeping- 'accidentally' - with him? especially when everyone already knows that you stay away from him as much as the day does from night?

Easy. You forget about it.

heartbreak chronicles by @sugaxjpg s

↳ Park Jimin had it all — good grades, a place as the soccer team’s captain and, more than that, the broken hearts of at least half the campus’ population. Though, one thing he did not have was someone willing to break his heart and, after you were dragged inside a miraculous plan to play that part, the last thing counted on was the preposterous idea that, perhaps, you could fall for him as well. 

drifting by@hongcherry f a

↳ After being assigned different partners for your midterm routine, your and Jimin’s relationship starts to deteriorate when you both begin spending more time away from each other and with your assigned partners instead.

growing pains by @taleasnewastime f s a

↳ Growing up the daughter of the boss of a gang is never easy, but normally the problems are around being given too many responsibilities, or the risk of being connected to a gang leader, or wanting to escape but not being able to. But you’ve got a different problem, you want more responsibility, want to be like your brother who’s been named heir, want a role in the family gang. Your whole life you’ve been denied what you want, being born a female seemingly your main issue; perceived as weak, naïve, trying to step above your station. But as unsupportive and dismissive as your family is, there is always the bright light that is Jimin; the boy you love but can never have.

tuqburni by @solastia f s a ft.myg

↳ You’ve spent two years building a life with Yoongi who you loved more than anything in the world. Now, his ex-boyfriend Jimin is back in the picture, and Yoongi begs you not to make him choose between the two of you, offering the choice of a polyamorous relationship. Though your heart is shattered, you agree.

stardust by @venusjeon f a

↳ struck by your beauty, Jimin begs to paint you naked behind the world's back so as not to stain your influential family—his patrons—with scandal.

drift by @snackhobi f s

↳ You used to think that there was nothing better than the sensation of coming first place. However, your rival- the talented, gorgeous, dangerous Park Jimin- is more than happy to prove you wrong.

the deli diaries by @jimlingss f

↳ Working at a grocery store deli is absolutely unbearable (and you’re also perfectly aware of how dramatic you are). But it seems like something, or rather, someone might make the job a bit more manageable.

best of me by @xotoosweet f a

↳ when he tells the story of how he met you in a few years, he'll claim that it was meant to be. you'll laugh and call it a coincidence. it was a coincidence that on the first day of summer semester, he decided to go on a run (though he claimed he always ran in the mornings). it was a coincidence that he chose a less traveled path in the university arboretum that morning. and it was definitely a coincidence that you were there, sitting on the rail of the river bridge.

the ten days of ex-mas by @kpopfanfictrash f s a

↳ Three months following the worst break-up of your life, you finally feel ready to start moving on. The world, it seems, has other ideas when you pick up the phone and find your ex-boyfriend calling.

strip by @yoonia f s a

↳ Summary | Everything you have done has always been about surviving life and raising your child on your own. Having someone else caring about you was the last thing you had expected. Especially when that someone is the same man you have watched performing every night on stage and secretly admired. But will he run the moment he finds out about your little secret waiting at home?

falling by @/yoonia s a

↳ For Park Jimin, you are everything he will ever need—his assistant, his housekeeper, his task runner, his fairy godmother. For you, he is more than everything. You have dedicated your life for him and, before you even realised it, your heart belongs to him alone. The only problem is that he is never yours, and you are living in a world that your love for him is nothing more than a fairytale ending. As you are suddenly given a chance to wake up and face the real world, will you be ready to embrace it? Will he be ready to deal with the world without you in it?

wrapped around by @jjkfire ft. kth f s a

↳ Freshman year was a mess and sophomore year doesn’t seem to be looking too good either. You know boys like them are no good for you but maybe they’re just your kind of type

baby, baby by @hobiwonder f s a

↳ When you’ve run out of savings to continue on to the last semester of your Bachelors - you take an unorthodox route. Helping a desperate couple have a child and getting paid for it? Heck yeah. But what do you know - it wasn’t as easy as it sounds.

love at first touch by bagelswrites (ao3)

↳ The first time you meet your soulmate, it leaves a bruise on both of you at the point of contact. From then on, your body begins rejecting any sustenance other than the touch of your soulmate. The trick is, the bruises take a few hours to appear, so you have to figure out who you've touched and find them before you starve to death. But once you do, all you ever need is them. So what happens if you're an idol and you meet your soulmate at a fan event?

our little family by @nightbts f a

↳ you were living a simple life filled with simple dreams; combining your two most loved things in life, children and teaching, you were starting out your career as a teacher at the local pre-school. but little did you know, how one child and her very special father, would change your simple life into something extraordinary

one-shot 35

brand new eyes by @missgeniality s

↳ Jimin’s eyes had potential to ruin you, and tonight you test the damage.

waves by @shina913 s

↳ It's Valentine's Day and your boyfriend decides to spice things up with a little surprise for you.

failure to communicate by @gukslut s

↳ Enemies to Lovers/ College AU

physical by @ppersonna f s

↳ you cant seem to escape the sexy fitness instructor that seemingly is everywhere you turn. it’s enough to make you irrational.

good for you by @candlewaxandp0lar0ids s

↳ Jimin can’t help the way he drowns himself in you. Why should he anyway?

ho-ho-home by @jjungkookislife s a

↳ Golden neighbor extraordinaire, Park Jimin, is (unintentionally) stealing your spotlight this holiday season. Despite your one sided rivalry with him, all Jimin wants is for you to remember him, to remember your past and hopefully create a future with you.

100km/hour by @chateautae s

↳ what exactly happens when you and your friends have to pile into one car for the ride home after an insane halloween party, and you find yourself sitting in park jimin’s lap? especially when he’s dressed as an angel, and you’re in the sluttiest devil costume ever?

what it's like by @jimilter s

↳ You’ve always heard great tales about how good the infamous fuckboy on campus, Park Jimin, is in bed, and wondered if there could be any truth behind these claims when the guy looks like an angel with his cheruby cheeks and precious smiles. So when a new gossip starts to circulate about how ‘hard he hits’, you have had enough of the suspense and decide to finally sample him yourself.

feel your touch by @/jimilter f s a

↳ You have always known yourself to be a sexual switch in bed, flipping between exercising and submitting control according to different situations and partners. And this camboy you are addicted to, one that seems to kinda reciprocate your interest, submits so beautifully that you just want to command him. But when things progress to levels you never anticipated, you end up discovering pleasant surprises that might just change your life.

the prince’s cinderella syndrome by @/jimilter f s a ft jjk

↳ He shows up at Halloween, every year, dressed the same, and leaves at midnight like some Cinderella. You would think he was a prankster if his eyes didn't look like they contained all the sadness in the world. You don't know him - no one on campus does. You don't know why he appears only once a year. You don't know why he never smiles. But you can't help falling in love with him. Even if he breaks your heart when he abandons you at midnight, again.

scream your panties by @opaljm s a

↳ As your midterms have ended and Halloween has arrived, you are looking forward to a pleasant time relaxing and enjoying the festivities at your sorority and Jimin’s frat houses. Luck is not in your favor, though, because things keep going wrong like a trail of dominoes falling – the only upside to your slowly deteriorating day being that you get to end it with your boyfriend’s delicious self between your legs.

first snow, last kiss by @taeshobipop f s a

↳ He broke your heart four years ago; the old loving memories of your time together now tainted by pure betrayal. Yet in the haze of new snow, after returning home for the first time, the moments you had once convinced yourself were nothing but a lie, reveal themselves to be otherwise.

antifreeze by @winetae s

↳ Jimin participates in the school’s adaption of The Nutcracker for extra credit but doesn’t expect his new dance partner to a) be this bad at dancing and b) be this fucking cute

what she likes by @untaemedqueen f s

idol au husband au marriage au

only you by @personasintro f s a

↳  you’ve been always there for your best friend, even when he became a single dad 

sucker by @/personasintro s a

↳ You wish you'd pay more attention to Jimin. Like, how his eyes kept changing color. How cold his skin was, too unrealistically to be natural. Or one second, he flashed you with his sharp canines and the next one he didn't have any. How much he craved for you, but not the way you thought he was.

please, lie to me by @ressjeon s a

↳ "centuries of loyalty vs. only months of fucking, how could you miscalculate?"

summer synchrony by @seokkgenie f s a

↳ childhood friends to lovers

neon seoul @readyplayerhobi f s a

↳ It the city of New Seoul, another homicide isn’t newsworthy but instead just a statistic. But when the son of the mayor is murdered in an alley in a shady part of the city? Then it’s important. You and your partner, Detective Park Jimin, are given the honour of investigating the crime. Will you find out who killed him? Or will you fail?

serendipity by @btsracket s a ao3

↳ It's serendipitous. Jimin braces for darkness but finds his light instead.

the boyfriend concept by @/kpopfanfictrash s

↳ Win a Date with a Porn Star! You saw the sign when you walked in, of course, but you had no idea your friend dropped your name into the raffle. Fast-forward to later that day, when you actually win. You are horrified, of course, with no intention of accepting and setting yourself up for embarrassment. But then you meet Jimin, and decide this might be worth a shot.

Lovely Demons by @/kpopfanfictrash s a

↳ As penance for a crime committed long, long ago, the Witch Council banished you to the feared Tholoss forest. Your sentence was one hundred thousand days of solitude – or death, whichever came first. Your only hope of salvation comes from the demon names routinely sent your way; creatures who escape the inner circles of Hell and pose a threat to the mortal realms. For each demon you kill, days are removed from your sentence. For years you’ve existed, biding your time, until one morning you receive a name which throws your entire world into chaos: the name of Park Jimin, High Prince of Hell himself.

blue blood by @joonbird s a

↳ “Prince Jimin was born with blue blood. His coronation is rapidly approaching, but there are two requirements he must fulfil before becoming a king. He must have the skills to fight in battle, and he must have a Queen with blood as blue as his. You, a member of the royal guard, are assigned to teach Jimin the ins and outs of combat. You are not scared of death, of blood, or of battle. What you are scared of however, is falling in love with Jimin, the one man your blood decrees you can never have.”

i want to be with you by @oddinary4bts f s a

↳ moving to Seoul has always seemed like a good idea, until the bubble bursts when you realize your new neighbor is Park Jimin, and he's not the sweet angel you've always imagined him to be. Will the reality of Park Jimin forever be a nightmare, or will he turn into a sweet dream?

locked in love by @parkmuse f s a

↳ Getting locked in the mall on Christmas eve isn’t ideal, but getting locked in the mall with your brothers best friend that you haven’t seen in a while? Well, it might have been alright if you didn’t have feelings for him.

peaches and cream by @snackhobi s

↳ you wouldn’t mind your cute neighbour being such a shameless fuckboy if a) the walls weren’t so thin and b) he didn’t seem intent on adding you as another notch in his bedpost. 

reset by @/dovechim s

↳ We are made of the pieces of what we remember, and we hold in ourselves the hopes and fears of those who love us. As long as there are memories to call our own, there can be no true loss. But Park Jimin has no such privilege. 

the dark side of the moon by @/dovechim s

↳ falling in love at first sight is cliche, not until it happens to you on a dark night in a lonely alley. but you’re only human, while Park Jimin is Alpha of his pack; it could never work out. so you resort to pining for him like a wolf howling at the moon, but when Jimin goes feral, that’s when everything changes. 

Unconditionally by @kstopping s a

↳ Jimin constantly torments you. But you love it.

Instinct by @evangelene f a

↳ A lost child appears into your life only to bring you closer Jimin–a man that you’d thought you’d hated once upon a time. Now all you want is to be there for the child, and maybe his father–but only if his mother gets the hell out of the way.

eternal sunlight by @kidguk f s a

↳ “college and soulmate au where the first words your soulmate will say to you are tattooed on your wrist. jimin thinks he met his soulmate exactly four months after he met and fell in love with you. you can’t explain your attraction or your feelings toward him, even though technically you’re meant to be with other people. taehyung and jungkook helpfully suggest that the universe might be glitching.”

foul play by @kimvtae f s a

↳ Everyone loves a good rivalry, and the students at your university are no exception. Unluckily for you, the rivalry of the decade is between yourself and a furiously irritating Park Jimin. A top gymnast and a basketball star shouldn’t cross paths, but Jimin makes his way into your heart before you can put a stop to it.

lost and found by @/kimvtae s a

↳ The only thing bigger than Park Jimin’s ass is his ego. After one too many scandals, after one too many mornings stumbling back to the dorms drunk or ruining the reputations of other idols, Jimin is given an ultimatum: complete a rehabilitation program in America or leave Bangtan.

if we were a movie by @/kimvtae f s a

↳ Friends with benefits never worked in the movies, but you and Jimin had been friends for so long, it was bound to work for you. Until, of course, Jimin gets a girlfriend, and you fear you may lose your friendship with him for good.

the pull of the tides by @goldenscript f s

↳ The expanse of the deep blue sea has always drawn you in. Each ebb and flow of the tides never ceasing to take your breath away. And now, a boy with hair as light as the morning sun and a smile just as bright does too. 

hard to say by @floralseokjin f s a

↳you've had feelings for your best friend Jimin for as long as you can remember, but you always thought they were unreciprocated. What if it turned out they weren’t...?

↬looking for pjm library or the other members check out my library

#kiki's recs #moon's recs #kiki!fic!rec #jimin #park jimin #park jimin x reader #park jimin fic recs #jimin fanfic #jimin fanfiction #bts fanfction #jimin fluff #jimin angst #jimin smut #jimin x reader #jimin series #jimin oneshot #jimin:fluff #jimin:smut #jimin:angst #jimin:oneshot #jimin:series #favourites!pjm #jimin drabble #jimin bts #jimin fic #bts jimin #jimin fic recs

[jadeylovesmarvelxo]

Drama abounds when you're attacked by monstrous bats after an argument with Eddie and Steve Harrington comes to your rescue...

Warnings: Complicated feelings, unrequited love, angst, mentions of blood.

❤️

This week had officially sucked.

Eddie was too busy following around his new girlfriend like a lovesick puppy to care what you were up to.

You wish it didn't bother you, but it did. All Eddie talked about was her and it drove you mad, jealously that began as small thing had grown and grown the last week or so. It was an awful feeling.

Shouldn't you be happy Eddie had found someone? Someone kind, pretty and who had so much in common with him. That's what a good friend should feel. Right now, this reaction made you feel guilty as hell.

"I don't know what your problem is. Why can't you just be happy that I'm happy! Maybe if you found someone yourself you wouldn't be like this?" Eddie had snapped at you earlier and the crushing feeling in your chest doubled.

It was dark now in Hawkins, Autumn was in full swing, the chilly wind nipping at you as you walked home.

Technically, you should be at Hellfire but after earlier you were in no mood tonight, you just wanted your bed and maybe a good binge of some of your favorite movies.

Anything that would help you forget about your feelings right now. Maybe scary movie, no romance whatsoever.

It was ironic you spoke about scary movies because the next minute you found yourself in one.

Hawkins was creepy after dark and you had heard enough tales from your relatives about the strange shit that went down here. At first you didn't believe it, Hawkins looked like any other picturesque small town... Well, until you looked closer and discovered the rot underneath the perfect facade.

Your friend Robin told you that spooky monsters roamed the woods, the rumours that freaky bat creatures hid in the shadows looking for prey. Not vampires, no actual bats that would rip you apart.

At first you thought it was some kind of old urban legend, that's until the bodies began the pile up and the legend grew and grew.

Now no one went into the woods, not even in groups. No one would risk it. Even walking past the woods to get home creeped you out, even if someone deep inside you were itching to know more about these bats.

Devil bats people called them. The side of you that was a big fan of mystery and investigating had researched as much as you could about these creatures but most of it was flimsy at best.

You're so lost in your thoughts that you miss the screeching sound the first time. The second time however chills you to the bone.

Screams fill the air, a man shouting for help and you freeze for a second before running to help. It's the stupidest thing you've done going straight into a frenzy of bats, but you can't just leave the guy to die.

When you reach the clearing into the woods you find your too late. The man is dead, blood seeping into the ground and bites on his neck.

Hawkins police station isn't far away. Maybe you could find Sheriff Hopper? You're about to run when you hear that screech again and one of the bats swoop down at you.

The tail is long and sharp and it lashes across your stomach before you can even move. Then the second bat is flying at you and you begin to run back out the forest and through the streets.

The bats are following you, four or them whipped up into a frenzy at the smell of your blood. They're smart to and dive down whipping their tails across your legs so you stumble and fall, your head smacks across the gravel on the road and dizziness makes your head spin.

You kick out at one of the bats and it hits the sucker right in the face, the other one uses its tail to wrap around your legs tightly, so hard that the sharpness of its tail cuts into you.

Two of them then work at ripping open your shirt and sinking their teeth into your side. The scream that leaves you is full of terror and pain, no fucking way are you dying now, theres still so much you want to do in life.

Wriggling around you try to throw one of the bats off you and it works but the second little bastard uses its wings and tiny, fierce claws to pierce into your skin to slow down your moments.

Just when it seems all hope is losr something slams into the bat and knocks it off you, you're so grateful for this and peer up to see Steve Harrington wielding a baseball bat covered in nails.

He slams it down on the bats head that has its tail wrapped around your leg and kills it instantly, freeing you. Dazed you stsnd up and Steve tosses you a crowbar.

"Take their heads off"

You don't have to be told twice and make quick work of the bats as more begin to fly your way. Pissed off, you swing the crowbar and tear off one of their tails.

Steve's hiss of pain captures your attention and you rush towards him and pull it away from Steve by its tail, Steve recovers and smashes the bat into its face.

His shirt is torn and you see a small trickle of blood seep through. The screeching stops as the last creature dies.

Tires squeal on the pavement and you hear your name being shouted. Eddie is running towards you, he looks as pale as a ghost when he reaches you and checks you for wounds.

"Eddie, what are you doing here?" Steve steadies you as you stumble. Eddie is still terribly pale as he answers.

"I heard you screaming, I was out looking for you because you didn't turn up at Hellfire and I felt like shit about earlier and then I heard you scream... I couldn't find you and I was terrified"

He's shaking as he takes in your appearance, his eyes wild.

"What the fuck were those things? Sweetheart?" you smile faintly, the adrenaline from fighting the bats wears off and you wince in pain and your head feels like it's spinning.

"I'm fine Ed's... I, woah" you faint and strong arms catch you before you fall.

❤️

When you come to you're at your house and resting on the sofa. Eddie is beside you looking extremely anxious.

"Thank fuck you're awake" his eyes are red and it looks like he's been crying, he won't admit it but you wonder if he was.

"You could have died... Those bats, shit if Steve hadn't found you when he did" His voice trails off and you gently squeeze his hand.

"I'm okay Ed's. Sore as shit but fine" he nods and kisses your cheek gently, then goes to help Steve with the bandages and antiseptic cream.

Gingerly you lift up your shirt and wince, it's soaked in blood which makes you feel nauseated. Eddie gently cleans the blood away as Steve cuts the bandages.

"Shit, these bastards got you good princess" he whispers worriedly. His nickname makes you ache.

"Don't call me that Ed's. Stacy, she doesn't like it" you whisper and he freezes.

"You're my best friend" he murmurs and the tension in the air deepens.

"Another thing she doesn't like Eddie. Maybe you're right and I should find someone. Would stop all this drama with Stacy" Eddie swallows and Steve steps forward.

"Munson, can you get more bandages incase these get bloodied up quickly" Eddie nods and hurries away.

The tension disappears, Steve gives you a sympathetic smile. Yeah, you were sick of the drama with all of this.

Steve gently patches you up and you feel yourself calm down for the first time tonight as you watch him work.

"Let me do yours, just take your shirt off and I'll help" he looks hesitant but nods and slips off his shirt.

You might have complicated feelings for Eddie but that didn't stop you from admiring Steve, he was handsome and now he was here in your house half naked. Georgia would have a field day if she knew about this.

When did he get so hairy? The thought pops into your head unbidden and it flusters you so much that you almost drop the antiseptic cream.

The bites draw you in again, a fresh one from tonight but also old ones. Bites that have left scars, marks from the bats tails that haven't faded.

You reach out to touch one gently, Steve watches you intently, there's a lot of tension in the air and the fact you could have died has you feeling rattled and in need of comfort.

Steve must be feeling the same thing as he dips his head down and his lips hover over yours.

He hesitates then his lips meet yours before he pulls away again. "Shit, I'm sorry. Shouldn't have done that" he mutters.

"It's okay. It was nice and kinda freeing not to think of Eddie every five minutes" he softens and you patch up the rest of him.

"Tell me about it. Felt the exact same with Nancy, it's better now but I still haven't found the right girl I want to be with, who isn't after me for just sex" you peer up at Steve, eager to say something comforting.

"You're awesome Steve, a badass monster fighter to boot. You'll find someone amazing"

Steve smiles and kisses your cheek, lingering just for a moment.

"Thank you sweetheart"

The door slams shut and you jump apart as Eddie comes in. He looks between the two of you with a blank expression on his face, eyes trailing to Steve who is shirtless and then your flustered look.

"Am I interrupting something here or..." Steve barely looks flustered as he shrugs on his shirt.

"Thanks for helping me patch up honey, call me if you need anything okay?" he smiles and squeezes your hand.

He leaves and your filled with a rush of jumbled feelings.

❤️

Could be an Eddie or Steve story :) Your choice.

❤️

#eddie munson x reader #steve harrington x reader #eddie munson x y/n #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington x you #eddie munson x you #eddie munson angst #steve harrington angst

[atinylittlepain]

Big Fan - Part Two

Joel Miller x actress!reader

joel miller masterlist

Joel is smitten. But he's having a hard time figuring out when she's being real and when she's just acting.

warnings | 18+ lil angst, mostly fluff, fun times abound

a/n | this is a continuation of a request that I was not expecting so many people to like lol, read the first part here!

........................

“Real or fake?”

“Oh, definitely fake. I still don’t think I know how to hold a gun right. Those were all just plasticky props.” Joel laughs with a shake of his head as she shrugs. They’re sitting in the spot they usually find themselves in as the sun starts to turn syrupy over the mountains, Joel’s arm draped across the back of the bench seat on her porch with her ever so slightly leaning into his side. By the time he says goodnight to her, he knows she’ll be melted right under his arm, pressed fully into his side, since that’s how these nights tend to unravel. 

It’s been entirely too sweet, all this time he’s been spending with her. They’ll talk for hours, well into the night, but not without a few interruptions. Word had spread fast around Jackson about the pre-apocalyptic starlet, and Ellie was right, it wasn’t just Joel who had been a big fan of hers before. It was typically women, recognizing her from some sappy movie he remembers Sarah liking, stopping by her porch to tell her that they loved her work and if she needed anything at all, to not hesitate to ask. Joel couldn’t help but roll his eyes at these displays, but she always handled it with an awkward grace, giving them a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. Not like the smiles she gave to him.

The men that show up are a different story. Joel would like to do a bit more than roll his eyes at them, with the way they lean up against the railing, shooting her crooked grins and telling her how they just can’t believe there’s someone “so darn pretty” calling Jackson home. But she treats them just the same as the others that show up, a clean smile and a few polite words, a far cry from the sailor’s mouth Joel has found her to have around him. And he thought he couldn’t like her more than he already did. 

After a few of these visitors had come by, Joel had fixed her with a quirked look, asking her if she was “putting on a show for these folks.” She had shrugged with a grin, and that’s how this game they play came about of Joel asking her what was real, and what was fake.

“They didn’t have someone teaching you that?” She sighs, nudging a little closer into his side.

“Mm, no. Think they were a little more concerned with how my tits looked behind the machine gun than if I was holding it right.” Joel clears his throat, her crass language flustering him a bit, and she seems to know it, giggling lightly as she looks up at him.

“Well, you seem to be holding your own just fine. But I could, um, give you some pointers some time if you want. Check out your form.” He regrets those last words the instant they come out of his mouth while she throws her head back against his shoulder in a hard laugh. He grumbles, heat creeping up his neck as her cackling finally dies down. She sighs, craning her neck to catch his downturned gaze.

“You wanna check out my form, Joel?” He huffs as she dissolves back into laughter, leaning over her thighs with her elbows propping her up. This was also something that often happened during their time together. Joel would manage to put his foot in his mouth, looking like a “hopeless fool” as Ellie lovingly put it, and she’d start teasing him until he could barely stand it. They flirted like dumb teenagers with each other, Joel wasn’t so thick that he couldn’t see that. But it never went any further than her resting her cheek against his chest in the darkening night, his arm sliding to drape over her. He knows it's silly, but he'd really like for it to go further.

She glances over her shoulder at him, sighing as her laughter finally dies down.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry. No more teasing, I promise.” She leans back into his side as he shakes his head.

“Have a hard time believing that, darlin.” He savors the effect that little name has on her, the melty smile she offers him whenever he calls her that. She smacks his knee before squeezing it lightly.

“Pfft, be nice, Miller. After all, you did have my poster in your bedroom.” She can barely get the words out behind her giggles. Joel tries to press a scowl across his face, but he dissolves too easily at her bright laughter, a defeated chuckle leaving his lips. 

“Alright, I couldn’t help myself. But I’m done now, I swear. In all seriousness, I’d appreciate that. You checking out my form. Could probably learn a thing or two from you.” She settles down into his side, the spot that Joel likes her in the most. He lets his arm slip down around her shoulder, hand brushing idly along her forearm.

“Why don’t we go out tomorrow for a little target practice? You can show me what you got, hollywood.” She snorts at that, hand squeezing his knee again.

“Sounds good, Texas. I’m game.”

…

“Real or fake?” She stops walking for a moment, a shy grin crinkling up her face. Joel chuckles.

“No, really?” She shrugs, picking back up the pace. They’re hiking out to a clearing Joel had used a few times to help Ellie with her target practice, a bright spring day that has them both dressed down in t-shirts, packs loosely slung over their shoulders.

“It was just a publicity stunt. Two co-stars in love. Certainly sold movie tickets, I can tell you that. But no, it was very, very fake. Truthfully, I couldn’t stand the guy.” He can’t help but laugh at her admission, shaking his head as they keep moving.

“My daughter had the biggest crush on that guy. I can remember her telling me she thought you were the luckiest lady alive to be dating him.” He lets out a long sigh. It’s been getting easier, talking about Sarah. Less of a pain and more of a relief in getting to remember her and share it with people he cares about, but a twinge still runs through his heart when he talks about her. She has been easy to talk to about it, letting him share as much or as little as he wants to, in turn telling him about her own family that she had lost, a little sister that she never got to see again. He couldn’t help being surprised at how easily they both talked with each other, coming from two completely different worlds. Though he supposes they share a whole lot more in this world they live in now.

She hums, glancing over her shoulder at him.

“Yeah, her and everybody else thought that I’m pretty sure. Such a shame he was actually a total asshat.” He snorts at that, picking up his pace to walk alongside her.

“Asshat. That’s a new one. You’ll have to share that one with Ellie. Kid’s always looking to expand her, uh, vocabulary.” She grins at him, eyes crinkling up as she laughs.

“Oh, I know. I taught her “douchebag” last week.” Joel huffs as she giggles at his exasperated expression, muttering a low “was wondering where she picked that up.” 

They fall into a comfortable silence as they reach the clearing and Joel is quick to shrug off his pack and take out the old street signs he and Ellie had painted targets on, setting them up against a stand of trees. If he didn’t know any better, he’d say she had been checking him out as he turned back around to her. But he knows better, right?

He sidles up next to her and hands her the pistol he had brought along. 

“Alright, show me how you’d normally stand.” She nods, staggering her feet slightly and cocking the gun up in one hand. Joel sighs, shaking his head as he comes up behind her.

“Almost as bad as Ellie, Jesus christ. Here–” He guides her one hand up to clasp over her other hand, bringing both his arms around her to firm up her grip with a light press of his palms. He can hear the clipped inhale she takes, can feel the stuttered rise of her shoulders from where his chest is hovering against her back. He clears his throat, leaving one more firm touch over her hands before stepping back.

“Thumb over thumb. Ain’t nobody gonna knock it out of your hands that way. And two hands are always steadier than one.” She hums in confirmation, glancing back over her shoulder at him. He nods toward the makeshift targets.

“Let’s see what kinda damage you can do, darlin.” It happens so quick, Joel can barely pick his jaw up off the ground as she turns around with a bright smile. She smoked it, hitting all three targets dead center without so much as a flinch. She saunters back over to him with a chuckle at his slack expression. 

“Where the hell did you learn how to do that?” She shrugs.

“What can I say? You learn early on as an actress to always hit your mark. Thanks for the tip though, definitely made it easier to stay steady.” She goes to hand him back the pistol and he clasps his hand around hers, pulling her a little closer.

“You didn’t need my help, not really.” She just shrugs, a crooked grin on her face as she looks at him. Joel huffs.

“So why exactly did you wanna do target practice with me?” She steps a little closer, bringing her hand that’s not clasped in his up to splay over his chest.

“Maybe I just wanted to spend a little more time with you, Miller. Is that so bad?” Joel sighs, shaking his head and letting go of her hand to drag his through his hair.

“Christ, you can’t just say shit like that. Not when–” Her brow is furrowed as she cuts him off.

“Not when what?” He huffs, keeping his eyes on his boots.

“Not when you don’t really mean it.” The laugh she lets out shocks him into meeting her gaze again. She shakes her head at him.

“Who says I don’t mean it?” His head is spinning at her words, at the warm look she’s giving him and he has to scrunch his eyes shut to refocus on reality. His eyes flicker back open when he feels her palm coming up to cup his jaw.

“Joel, if you don’t believe it, just ask me. I haven’t lied to you once.” At first, he’s not quite sure what she means, but when he finally gets it, he lets out a long sigh.

“Alright. Real or fake– you’ve been flirting with me.” She smiles, her fingers lightly drumming against his chest.

“Real.” 

“Real or fake– you flirt with everyone.” She scoffs, shaking her head.

“Fake, and I’m insulted too, geez.” It’s playful, but Joel is already posing his next question.

“Real or fake– you like flirting with me because you like messing with me.” She laughs at that.

“Hmm, fake. But also a little real.” His brow furrows, but she just smiles.

“Real or fake–” She cuts him off, bringing both her arms to wrap over his shoulders.

“Wait a minute. It’s my turn. I’m gonna do something, and you tell me if it’s real or fake.” Before he can ask her what she’s going to do, she’s leaning up and guiding him down with her hand at the nape of his neck, brushing a fluttering kiss to his lips. Joel’s mind goes blank, the only thing he can focus on are her eyes as she pulls back just slightly. She grins.

“Well, was that real or–” He cuts her off this time, dipping back down for a much more demanding kiss, bringing his hands to cup her face. They both pull away a bit breathless and Joel lets out a laugh, his thumb stroking the arc of her cheek.

“Real. That was very real.”

................................

taglist: @littleshadow17 @stevesdick @agent007knight @inanni

#joel miller fluff #joel miller au #joel miller imagine #joel miller angst #joel miller #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #the last of us #tlou fanfiction #tlou

[rynwritesreid]

Unspoken wounds| Spencer Reid

Summary: Spencer who is no stranger to heartbreak, finds solace and love in his friendship with you. Despite the both of you developing romantic feelings for one another, you were both too nervous to jeopardise your friendship, leading Spencer to find someone else. This leads to the break down of your friendship with him, and causing tension between to two of you that affects your work.

Content: Fem! & BAU reader. Angst and fluff. Spencer gets into a relationship but is still clearly in-love with reader. They both don’t know how to express their feelings to one another. Arguments and an ambiguous ending.

Request:“Ooh any of the 1989 vault tracks 🫶🏼”~ this is based on two; now that we don’t talk & say don’t go.

A/N: this is completely unrelated to this story, but please let me know if you want to see other content.

2075 words

Masterlist|requests are open|Navigation

Spencer Reid was no stranger to heartbreak; it was a companion he knew all too well. His dad had abounded him when he was young, his mom suffered with mental health issues his entire life, and he had suffered with own mental health and addiction. He had come to terms that this was something he was going to experience his entire life, until you came along. You were nothing short of perfect. He could talk to you about anything and everything, without the fear of being judged.

Spencer had contemplated the idea of asking you out on a date numerous times, but the fear of jeopardising the special bond you both shared held him back. He didn’t want anything to come in the way of the two of you. He would go to the ends of the earth to protect you. He loved you, and not just in platonic way.

He had envisioned a life together with you. He had dreamt about proposing to you, watching you walk down the aisle, seeing you carrying his child and growing old with you. If he believed in soul mates, he would be certain that you were his. He just didn’t believe you felt the same way, and he was far too nervous to talk to you about it.

 

He drowned out those feelings for you, he went out looking for someone who would be interested in a relationship with him. So, when he eventually found someone who seemed interested in him, and being in a relationship with him, he basically jumped at the chance.

 

At first you were happy for him. You loved seeing him being this happy, and that he had someone else to talk to that wasn’t you. But it was also tiring. You were having to hide your true feeling for Spencer, or how jealous you were when he was talking about his girlfriend.

 

You had loved Spencer from the first time he had made you laugh. But just like Spencer you were scared to ruin your friendship with him. Spencer was the first man you had ever truly trusted. You told him all your secrets. He knew everything about you.

 

Watching Spencer fall in love with someone else, broke you. It was the breaking point of your friendship with Spencer. The two of you had stopped talking, you only interacted with him if it was truly necessary. You had stopped answering his phone calls or replying to his texts. Spencer was too busy in his new relationship to notice at first, but he watched how you wouldn’t come up to his desk while you were both working. He had noticed how you barely acknowledged him anymore, or how you had stopped laughing at his jokes.

 

Spencer’s heart sank when he realised, he had lost you. You were his best friend, the one person he could always turn to when he needed someone to talk to. He couldn’t bear the thought of not having you in his life. For a while, you were Spencer’s entire world.

 

He tried to reach out to you, leaving voicemails and sending texts, but you didn’t respond. It wasn’t until he saw you leaving the building with tears in your eyes that he realised how much he had hurt you.

 

He felt guilty. Maybe if he had realised earlier that you were ignoring him, he could have fixed the friendship. But now he was wondering if it was too late to do anything. He did wonder if it was to do with his new relationship, but you seemed so happy when he told you about it at first, he was questioning what had happened between then and now.

 

Not long ago, you would have talked to Spencer about your problems, but now Spencer was the problem, you didn’t know who to turn to. You thought about reaching out, asking how he was, but you couldn’t bring yourself to do it.

 

Spencer had tried to talk to his girlfriend about this whole situation. He talked about how you used to do everything together, how you were the person he would go to if he needed help before he met her. He thought she might understand, but she was happy that you were no longer in his life. He knew she had valid reason to be jealous of your (now ex) friendship, but he thought he would more caring, mor understanding.

 

You had become closer to JJ, Emily, and Garcia because of this whole situation. You would laugh about how you didn’t have to pretend to enjoy Russian movies or listen to him list of statistics about anything and everything anymore.

 

But deep down, you still missed him. You missed the way he would at you with his big brown eyes, the way he would geek out over new information, the way he would comfort you when you were feeling down.

 

However, you couldn’t get over the feeling that he had led you. You couldn’t shake the feeling that for the entire friendship you were his, but he wasn’t yours. You thought you might be better off now, knowing you could find someone who would be yours, someone who wouldn’t replace you while you were still in their lives.

 

Whenever you were out in the field, you would try your hardest not to be paired up with Spencer, you couldn’t stand to be around him anymore. What once seemed charming, and caring, now seemed arrogant and cocky.

 

The tension between you and Spencer was palpable, even to the other members of the team. They could feel the tension between the two of you, even though they didn't know the full extent of what had happened.

 

They decided they wanted to fix it, they all missed seeing you two being happy together. So, one day, while out in the field on a case, you and Spencer were forced to work together. It was a difficult and gruelling case, one that required you to be in close proximity to each other for an extended period of time.

 

You hated every second of it. Spencer tried to talk to you like he used too, but you would just shrug hum off. Every time he would talk about his girlfriend, you felt your heartache. You didn’t want to hear about his perfect new life he had, you missed your old Spencer.

 

Spencer hated how you two acted around each other now. He wanted to talk to you about you were feeling about this case, if it was negatively affecting you at all, but you just ignored him. He wanted to tell you that every night he went to sleep wondering if you were okay.

 

You on the other hand had tried to shove all the thoughts about Spencer to the back of your mind. He was the one man you had trusted, and he was the one man you didn’t think would betray you, but he still had. You knew someone who was so good at their job, at profiling people, he should have known that you loved him.

 

Spencer was getting sick of it; he didn’t understand why you were acting like this. He missed his close friend; he missed his person. He asked Emily and JJ about it, but they just told him that he should know why you weren’t talking to him anymore. He couldn’t understand why they didn’t tell him what had happened for you to abandon the friendship, but he knew he had to talk to you about it.

 

One night, while alone in your hotel room and scrolling through your phone, you saw a message from Spencer. You hesitated for a moment before opening it, not sure if you were ready to face him again.

 

The message read: “I miss you. Can we please talk?”

 

Your heart sunk as you read the message. You missed him too, but you weren’t sure if talking would do any good.

 

You messaged JJ, you thought she would know best. She suggested you talk to him; you could air your grievances or just get closure.

 

You took JJ’s advice and invited Spencer to come into your room. As soon as he walked into the room, you felt a rush of emotions. You were angry, hurt, and sad all at the same time. You didn't know how to start the conversation, so you just sat there in silence for a moment.

 

“Look, I know I messed up. I didn’t mean to hurt you, I just...I thought it was for the best,” Spencer started, breaking the silence.

 

“What was for the best? Ignoring me and replacing me with someone else?” you said, your voice laced with anger.

 

“No, that’s not what I meant. I just...I didn’t want to ruin our friendship,” Spencer said, his eyes pleading with you to understand.

 

“Exactly, friendship. You saw nothing more in me, did you? You led me on for years, you acted like you cared. But you didn’t, did you?” Your tone was aggressive.

 

You hated Spencer for this, for how he made you feel. You wished he hadn’t texted you saying he missed you, you wished you hadn’t replied, you wished you hadn’t been his friend at all.

 

Spencer looked taken aback, hurt even. "That's not true," he said, shaking his head. "I always cared about you; I just didn't want to risk losing you."

 

Spencer couldn’t understand why you were saying all this, he had loved you from the moment his eyes landed on you. He couldn’t believe that you believed that you felt like this, and that you hadn’t communicated your feelings with him.

 

"Well, you did," you said bitterly. "You lost me. I can't just forget how you treated me and how much it hurt."

 

Spencer looked at you, he remember the number of times you had smiled together, laughed together, even cried together. He couldn’t believe he was the one who had hurt you the most, the one who had ruined this friendship.

 

"I know, and I'm sorry," Spencer said, his voice softening. "But I still care about you, more than anything. I miss talking to you, spending time with you. You're still my best friend, even if we haven't talked in a while."

 

You did still care about Spencer; he had been the only person you sought comfort from for a long time. But he now had a girlfriend, he shouldn’t consider you his best friend anymore.

 

“I shouldn’t be your best friend, Spencer. Your girlfriend should. I shouldn’t even be a close second to her, Spencer.”

 

Spencer sighed heavily. "I know, and I'm sorry for that too. But it's not like that with her and me. I care about her, but it's not the same as what I had with you. You were always the one who understood me, who knew me better than anyone else."

 

You were conflicted. On one hand, you missed Spencer, and the way he knew you so well. On the other hand, you were hurt by the way he had treated you and replaced you with his girlfriend. You didn't know if you could trust him again.

 

“What are you trying to say here Spencer? You love your girlfriend, right?”

 

Spencer rubbed his forehead, unsure of how to respond. He did love his girlfriend, but he also loved you. He knew he couldn't have both, and he didn't want to hurt anyone anymore.

 

"It's...complicated," he said finally. "I care about her, but I also care about you. I don't want to lose either of you, but I know that's not fair to either of you."

 

You looked at Spencer, trying to keep your emotions in check. You knew deep down that you still loved him, but you couldn't let him play with your emotions like this. You couldn't be his backup plan, his second choice.

 

"Spencer, you can't have it both ways. You need to make a decision. You can't keep playing with both of our emotions like this. It's not fair to either of us. You have to choose," you said firmly.

 

Spencer looked at you, his expression conflicted. He knew he couldn't keep stringing the both of you along; he had to make a choice. He took a deep breath before speaking.

 

"I know I have to make a decision, and I will. I just need some time to think," Spencer said, his voice barely above a whisper. "I don't want to hurt anyone anymore."

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[yoonrambles]

Reunion of Two Friends

Eden!Alkaid x Reader.

Notes: angst, one-sided pining, kinda sappy by the end, someone pls give eden Alkaid a hug pleASE.

Word count: 2.3k !

Thank you, @41lobsters and @crystalroosevelt for beta reading <3 ily guys.

Taglist: @food-lover9000 @godheimm @lovebrushed @xcerizex @nehamerchant123

The renewed city of Eden bustled with life; new shops met their grand openings, new towers and buildings reached the sky, and the sweet smell of flowers and fresh vegetation wafted in the air. Citizens got up at the crack of dawn, finishing their daily necessities and rushing off to work by the time the sun reached its peak. Just like them all, Alkaid went out to work. After his friend, the painter across the stars, blessed him with a new world – he pledged to never let his people down; to never let her down.

Alkaid took the responsibility to be the architectural engineer of the city. He spent most of his time working around the clock, catering to the town; creating a picture that was vividly similar to the city where he felt at peace – a city he once called home.

Alkaid took initiatives to build parks, gardens, and restaurants around the town. He even designed them with careful consideration, minding the efficiency and the opinions of others. And soon enough, the once abandoned, desolate mirage of a city had turned into a place abound with life–a shelter for the desperate and destitute; a true Eden among the parched sea of sand.

As Alkaid made his way through the crowded streets of Eden, many gentlemen and ladies greeted him politely. He greeted back with his signature gentle smile, sharing brief etiquette before continuing on his own way. Whilst walking down the stone pavement, he couldn't help but recall his previous days when he was feared by all; being the Master of Eden had him sequestering himself into a mansion at the edge of Green Island, where he’d let “guests” in, and no one out. The enigmatic character he had created for himself rendered him intimidating to the other NEOS.

He took a deep breath and looked forward, pushing his thoughts to the back of his head. The past was long gone, there was no need to worry about it. After all, he had the task to lead a new generation of Eden.

Upon reaching Oasis Park Avenue, he recognised a familiar face amidst the crowd. The image of his saviour under the sweet sunlight flooded into his vision; her white cardigan stood out against the black and grey coats of the citizens, and the red frills of her skirt blew softly in the mild wind. she adjusted her black beret on top of her head when she accidentally bumped onto a gentleman next to her. Hastily exchanging apologies, she continued forward, the awkward smile and soft shade of blush still lingering on her face.

“(Name)?” Alkaid called out, catching her attention – she noticed the light crease under Alkaid’s green eyes as he welcomed her, inviting her over with a well-known sincerity. “Is that really you?”

“I didn't expect you to come back…” Alkaid said, stepping towards her.

“I came to check how my old friend was doing.” She replied with a smile, looking up to meet his gaze. “And, of course, treat myself to a cup of his fragrant tea.”

Alkaid chuckled at her words. Despite being apart for so long, the painter girl didn't change one bit. She still had that distinct sense of innocence to her which allured Alkaid in their first meeting – yet, he knew very well she was the bravest person he'd ever been acquainted with.

“That can certainly be arranged,” Alkaid replied. He stopped in his tracks when the little painter held his arm. They used to walk around town holding each other's hands when Eden was under great threat. Alkaid had struck a deal with her; a deal of romance that only lasted for 3 days, just to please his own sanity. So, in spite of his uneasiness, Alkaid welcomed the feeling. “I’ve got a humble abode with a small garden at the entrance. And I designed it myself.”

She let out a small laugh. “Alright. And is it the same design as the house you had before?”

“You'll see for yourself.” Alkaid smiled. “So, shall we be on our way?”

“I'd love to but…” she looked at Alkaid with an eyebrow raised. “Don't you have to go to work or something?”

Ah, yes. His job… Alkaid was so engrossed with the idea of being visited by his beloved that he forgot that he had a job to do.

“Oh… well, that–”

“No, no,” the girl protested. “it's fine. You can go to work. I'll check around the town and see what’s going on. I'll even bring you a few snacks!”

“Thank you, but I do not need the snacks–”

“Consider it a treat!”

Alkaid blushed at the enthusiastic nature of the girl. How could he ever resist and say no to the sweet smile she showed him everytime she proposed something. “Alright, but… will you be alright?”

“I'll be fine,” she said, already excitedly walking down the street without him. “Besides, maybe I'll take my time and visit some art galleries? Are there any museums nearby?”

Alkaid sighed. “Alright, I'll accompany you to an art museum before taking my leave.”

Oh, this energetic girl would be the end of him.

***

Alkaid entered the premise of his mansion. Through the gate, into his garden. The fresh smell of roses and lilies welcomed him forward, inviting him into his own little paradise. His day went as usual – work, lunch with colleagues, and more work … nothing out of the ordinary.

He looked up, noticing his mansion glimmering under the warm sunlight of the afternoon. Sunlight glinted on the window panes, and rebounded onto the greenery nearby – from the tall pine trees to the bushes adorned with colourful flowers, and to the vines wrapped around the trellises, leading all the way to the entrance.

Alkaid got inside his abode, went up the stairs, and followed to the end of the hallway and into his room. And with a sigh, he took off his coat, closing the door behind him. He put the coat down on the bed, and allowed himself to fall on the soft mattress.

Oh, to relax on the bed after long a day of work – a satisfaction well-known by everyone. But, Alkaid couldn't stay there for long, he had his garden to attend to, as well as other things. Speaking of other things, where was his expected guest?

He hoped he didn't make her wait for too long. He dreaded the thought of her leaving; of her losing patience and going back to the stars, to her own universe – never to be seen again. She didn't forget about him ... did she?

“No, that,” Alkaid mumbled, mustering up his remaining strength to sit up on the bed. “That's not right. She would never forget about me,” Alkaid continued, running a hand through the blond locks of his hair. His words were left unanswered. And under the solemn light of the twilight, he felt even more isolated. “...right?”

***

And the evening proceeded leisurely. Alkaid tended to his garden, pruning the rose bushes to its perfect shape. He was meticulous with his moves; snipping the excess branches with utmost care. He did not mind the water droplets that hit his shirt, dampening its soft material. His mind was busy with other thoughts: especially thoughts about her. She hadn't returned yet, despite it being dark outside. Was she safe? She didn't get into trouble, did she? Alkaid hoped she was safe. He wished he could've been there with her – protecting her from the disasters of the world, just like what she had done for him.

Then a new thought bloomed as he moved around, towards the flower bed near the entrance: why did he expect her to come back? Did he still harbour the feelings he once had for her? No, that must be untrue, for the Prefect Luminary had taken away his emotions – used it as a bargaining chip, and he also took away the Master of Eden’s powers, eradicating the old Eden.

As Alkaid was about to move onto another batch of flowers, someone entered through the gate. It was her; hastily closing the gate before rushing towards the man. A bouquet in her hand.

“Sorry, I'm late, Alkaid!” She exclaimed, running over to him.

“It's alright,” Alkaid said, chuckling at her naivety. “Welcome to my garden.”

“Goodness, Alkaid, you wouldn't believe how many people I had to ask for your location,” she rambled on, without a rest to catch her breath. “I thought that-”

“Hold on. Didn't I tell you my address before leaving you at the museum?”

The painter girl fell silent after listening that. “I might've forgotten…”

Alkaid chuckled once again, shaking his head as he walked up the stairs, reaching the plateau. “Please, come inside and make yourself comfortable, (Name). I'll brew you a cup of tea.”

The girl followed him inside. Marvelling at the designs. The interior was the same as she had seen last time; the decorations, the flower embellished foyer, and the ever-so-familiar scent of flowers that reminded her of the past.

“It's the same as before…” she commented.

Alkaid smiled, acknowledging her comment, leading her towards the living room. The girl went in, and looked around the place a bit – what came to view first was the flowers decorating the furniture and sweet aroma that came with it. She took a seat on the couch. If she hadn't known better, she definitely would have commented how Alkaid’s mansion literally had the fragrance of a flower shop.

After a while, Alkaid brought her a cup of freshly brewed chamomile tea. It’s sweet aroma filled the air, and she enjoyed the tea wholeheartedly. Alkaid was surprised as she didn't hesitate this time, knowing the past ordeals they had shared, but he didn't bother saying them aloud. Instead, he only smiled and accompanied her.

His eyes then began to trail down to the bouquet she had brought with her. A quaint bouquet with freshly cut roses – white ones, to be precise. The ones he'd loved so ardently; symbolising purity and innocence – just a reminder of the person he was deep down. Along with the roses remained small forget-me-nots, standing out in the white palette of roses, painting the bouquet in small strokes of blue.

The painter girl noticed Alkaid staring at the bouquet. She put down the cup of tea on the teatable. “Oh, yeah– this is for you,” she said, handing the bouquet to Alkaid.

Alkaid took it, observing the flowers for a moment before smilling, uttering a small thank you.

If he remembered correctly, the forget-me-nots symbolise love and respect – reminding himself that the girl would never forget him; he would never get lost among her endless memories. Even though she had to travel across many worlds, make many voyages across the universe – she wouldn't dare forget him; it was an oath of remembrance.

“Thank you, (Name),” Alkaid said, smilling at the girl. “It looks amazing.”

***

After enjoying their evening tea, Alkaid proposed that they should stargaze together. And in spite of their differences, all the prototypes of Alkaid had their own fascination or connection with the stars. And the painter girl found that endearing, so she didn't refuse. Soon, they found themselves on the rooftop, looking at the stars, beyond their own little haven; over the Eden they shared.

“(Name)...” Alkaid began, “I wish you didn't need to leave.”

“Me too…” she replied, staring up at the sky dotted with stars. “I wouldn't dare leave my friend alone like this.”

Ah, yes… a friend. That's how she viewed him. Alkaid didn't mind though, she might have had other people who were interested in her, and she also reciprocated the feeling – it didn't bother him at all. Yet, why did his chest feel tight at the mere thought of another man holding her hand for eternity?

“Well, it is quite uneventful without you around,” Alkaid muttered under his breath, praying that his words never reached her ears. He didn't wish to be a bother; to be the reason for a strain in her relationship with whomever she was in love with.

“Really?” She turned to Alkaid. “I'll try to visit often, then. Just, not too often… or else, there’ll be consequences, I'm sure you understand.”

Yes, she didn't visit often and had to be cautious when travelling – it's to avoid the gaze of the Eternal Empire, lest they should try something heinous upon her as well.

“Yes, I understand,” Alkaid said, soothing himself. “But there's one thing I don't quite understand…”

“What is it?” she asked.

“... Nevermind.” Alkaid replied. His feelings for her could never be described with words. His fascination for her was something otherworldly. He would defy fate and go against the stars just to please her – and he was willing to take an oath to stay loyal to her, forever and ever.

But, he didn't want her to regret her decision. She was born a traveller, blessed with the power to cross the stars. Alkaid couldn't keep her with himself in his mansion no matter how hard he tried. So, he preferred to keep quiet.

“Let us enjoy this moment then.” she said, looking up at the sky again.

Alkaid looked at her hand. He didn't know why he thought of holding it suddenly – to interlace his fingers with hers and let the warmth of her palm flow into his. He inched his hand forwards, almost brushing his fingertips against hers. And yet, his fears held him back. He retracted his hand faster than he anticipated.

“Thank you for visiting me, (Name).” Alkaid mumbled. “I'm pleased to have you as my guest.”

And thus, they remained under the serene sky, watching the stars – thinking of a world where they could reside in peace without the barrier that was holding them apart.

#‎ ‎ ‎ ✎‎ ‎ ‎ | yoon's projects ♡ ₊ ⊹ #lovebrush chronicles x reader #eden alkaid #alkaid mcgrath #alkaid x reader #alkaid #angst #one sided pining #lovebrush chronicles

[ariundercovers]

One Last Time (Din Djarin x Reader)

Summary: You made it to the waters with Din and Bo - but what does that mean for the two of you?

Pairing: Din Djarin x Reader (no gender descriptors used in this one!)

Word count: ~1.5k

Warnings: fluff and angst abound

a/n: this is a lil one-shotty thing that I have a lot of other ideas for additional installments if there is any interest! But let me know if you do!

The three of you head into the cave, though you and Din stop just in the mouth of the entrance as Bo’katan continues forward. She speaks up, over her shoulder. “And here we are: The Mines of Mandalore. I’ll give you two a minute, I’m going to scope things out.” Din nods back at her affirmatively, and you turn to him, excited.

“You made it, Din. You did what no one else thought was even possible. The living waters are still here! You can set everything right again.”

He sighs, his voice audibly terse through the modulation. “I know.”

Your brow scrunches in confusion. “Why don’t you sound happy about it?”

He turns to you and seemingly stares for some time. When he finally speaks, his voice cracks slightly, like it pains him to do so. There is a curve to his upper back that wasn’t there before and a weight to his shoulders that he didn’t carry on the way down. 

“Because after I am redeemed in the waters, I will no longer be an apostate, but I will not be able to kiss you again.” 

His words visibly take you aback, shattering the happy moment and splintering your heart. “What?”, you whisper. He pauses briefly before responding. 

“I cannot remove my helmet.”

Realization settles over you slowly and unwillingly, eventually letting out a near-silent, “Oh,” as means of acknowledgment. He hasn’t moved from his spot by even a millimeter.

“Is this still okay with you?”

“It… It’s not my choice, Din. This is your religion, your faith…. I support you in whatever you need to do for this. Always.”

“Even this?”

“Even this.”

“Cyare…”

“Even this, Din. I promise. Even with this.” Finally, he breaks his stoic posture and walks over to you, placing his gloved hand on your face tenderly, stroking your cheek with his thumb. The scratch of the worn leather prickles your skin as you look into his visor, wishing you could see the expression on his face. “If you’re going to, uh… be redeemed after this is all over anyway, can I ask you for something?”

“Anything, cyare.”

You were still his beloved, even if he couldn’t kiss you to prove it.

You take a deep breath, steadying yourself before asking. “Can I kiss you one last time? Please? I promise I won’t look. I’ll keep my eyes closed until you tell me to.”

He responds with a hum and you blink down at your feet.

“If that’s asking too much, I understand. I’m sorry. I don’t mean to overstep, and I don’t want to test your faith, so please don’t let me do that.” His hand travels down your arm to grasp the back of your own, the other hand mirroring it on the opposite side. Slowly, he pulls your hands up toward his head, placing them on either side of his helmet.

You lock eyes with his visor again and he commands lowly. 

“Go ahead.” 

Your eyes go wide. “Really?”

He nods, touching foreheads with you as you close your eyes. 

“Yes.” 

You feel his right palm come up to your cheek and pause there before he drags it across your eyes to shield your vision as he pulls slightly away from you, though still within your reach. His voice is low and gravelly when he repeats his earlier command. 

“Go ahead, cyar’ika. I mean it.” 

You slowly, so slowly, lift the helmet off his head and drop it into your right hand, where he takes it from you and places it somewhere on the damp rocky floor beside him with a soft clink.

“Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum.” He whispers, as his left hand wraps around the back of your neck, pulling you into a kiss. It's the fieriest kiss you think you’ve ever had, all passion, teeth, and tongue. The hand on your neck travels down to the small of your back and you snake your own up to his face, running your fingers through the sparse hair on his chin and cheeks. You savor the feeling of his skin against your own, trying to commit the shape of his cheekbones and nose to memory before it is lost to you forever.

Suddenly, the gloved hand that was covering your eyes shifts, moving to the side of your face and then wrapping behind your head and fisting into your hair. You squeeze your eyes shut even tighter, afraid to stop thinking about it for even a moment.

When he finally pulls away from you for a moment, the two of you are breathing heavily. Din rests his forehead on yours and you breathe together for a few beats before he finally breakas the silence with another instruction.

“Open your eyes,” 

The order shocks you and you instinctively shake your head ‘no’ in response, yet he continues to urge you further. 

“Open your eyes, cyar’ike.” 

You hesitate, letting your breathing calm down as you attempt to rationally respond to him. “I can’t, Din, I can’t do that to you.”

Your hands are on his shoulders now and you can feel his body heave out a sigh at your response. “Then do it for me. Let me see you. Open your eyes.” You pause for a moment before giving in, as you slowly creak one eye open, and then the other. Din has a soft smile on his moustached lips, his wide brown eyes boring into your own. Something primal wells up in you as you get a full view of his face for the first time, and your body lets out an involuntary squeak. His thumb rubs lazy circles into the back of your cheek as your eyes dart about, trying to commit all of his features to memory.

“Din, you’re… you’re so beautiful.” A barely there tinge of pink develops over his features and you smile wide. “I love you. I love you so much.” His face is deeply expressive - showing all of the embarrassment and self consciousness that he’s feeling at once, pulling on your heartstrings like nothing else ever had before. It breaks you just a little bit when you can feel the heat in his cheeks become to much for him and he kisses you again.

This time is deep and slow, savoring the taste of your lips on his. It feels final - you know you need to get moving, even in the midst of such major shifts between the two of you. Eventually, you break away and speak once more. 

“Din, I love you so much that I’ll let this be both the first and the last time I get to look into your eyes, and I promise you that I will never, ever, ask you to remove your helmet ever again. I respect you, and your Creed, way to much to ever possibly do otherwise.” 

He blinks back at you and smiles, sadly, bending down to pick his helmet back up. You pull him in for another quick and searing kiss before launching your arms around his torso and pushing your cheek fiercely into his cuirass. As you pull away, he lifts his helmet to place it back on his head, but you reach out to stop him.

“Wait. Let me? Please?” He nods and yields the helmet to you, taking a knee in front of you so that you could reach more easily. 

You place it above his forehead like a crown and slowly bring it down, covering his forehead, his eyebrows, his eyes, then his cheekbones, and the tip of his nose. You pause there, leaning into him to grasp his lips with your own one last time. You try desperately to burn them into your mind. 

When you finally force yourself to pull away, you finish slipping the helmet over the rest of his face, and he reaches up to re-engage, tell-tale hiss of an air-lock slipping back into place. He stands slowly and you give him the best sad smile that you can muster.

“I love you like this, too, Din Djarin.” The words creak out of your throat with tears in your eyes, and he once again presses the forehead of his helmet to your own, a keldabe kiss, as he told you a few weeks ago. “I love every version of you.”

The stare coming back at you from his visor is obviously blank, but you imagine him smiling underneath of it.

“You ready?” He questions, voice modulated once more.

“As I’ll ever be.” he turns you around with a hand on the small of your back and leads you toward Bo’katan and the steps below.

#din djarin x reader #din djarin x y/n #din djarin #din dijarin fanfiction #din x you #writing

[the-witch-of-one-piece]

Ch 2: Refusing to Accept Tetta: Kisaki x Fem Reader +18 WC: 2750+ Chapter 1 chapter3

TW: Vaginal penetration, creampie, orgasm, masturbation, making out, unprotected sex, arguing, and Angst A/N: Kisaki is unable to accept what he feels for you, are soulmates bound to be together or teach us life lessons. Will you abound to him or just a lesson in his life? I hope you all enjoy! (unedited and also featuring Hanma!)

It felt like after the first encounter instead of him coming twice a week it was mostly every day. He requested you to be available at a certain time and you accepted each time. You both would do his readings at times then it would lead to sex, or he would walk to the back causing you to close up the shop. Entering the back room he controlled you and you couldn’t help but enjoy every moment of it. It was nothing official, it seems he treated it like a friends-with-benefits type of thing. You wanted more but each time you brought the questions to your cards when it wasn’t the right time.

Just like right now looking at the cards “Of course I knew this answer was coming…” you sighed. Grabbing the cards, you did ask the question hoping it wasn’t a one-sided interest, he did have some feelings for you but he seemed not to be ready for commitment. Looking at the time he was going to arrive soon. Grabbing the items on the table you began placing them back on the shelves. You got glance of yourself in the mirror and noticed the two purple marks on your neck from the night previously. 

The more he was around the more you felt like you had to accommodate just for him and you had never done this for anyone before.  You waited for hours and he didn’t appear. You texted him twice with no response.  He may have been busy… You were getting tired so you decided to lock up the shop and head home for the night. Flicking all the lights off you grabbed your bag. 

Kisaki was in his office and he looked at the final text you sent him. 

You: I’m closing up the shop, night.

He put his phone down before picking up his drink, swirling his glass of bourbon. “Not going to see your ‘little friend’ tonight.” he heard the voice of Hanma entering the room. Rolling his eyes “Stop calling her that…” 

“Maybe you should go see her, you're a bit nicer when you get laid.”  He smirked adjusting his glasses. “Or maybe you are getting attached to her and just don’t want to admit it.” He could read him like a book if there was something like Kisaki, it was like an addiction he couldn’t shake after just one hit. Kisaki hated that Hanma caught onto it. Even some of the others may have known about his nightly fuck sessions. But they couldn’t complain when he was getting laid he was a bit nicer Ignoring the line of questions “Did you already finish the job?” “Of course,  it wasn’t that much of a challenge to make something look like an accident, no-brainer.” Hanma responded. “Question for you.”

“What is it?” He looked over at the tall slender man.

“Did you even ask her the question you wanted to ask her in the first place? Or you don’t want to ruin the little fun you are having with her?” Hanma asked.

Finishing the rest of his drink  he got up from his seat “I’m going out for a bit.” 

Hanma saw Kisaki exit the office checking the time “That means see you in the morning.”

Kisaki exited the building and got into the car. He had your information about where you live. He found out everything about you, the shop you ran was only open a few months before he started going. Looking at the time it was 11:27pm. Contemplating for a moment he decided to show up to your home. He had to come to terms soon if he should ask the question or if he was planning on sleeping with you just a bit longer.

When you got home you went straight to bed. Your body was exhausted and maybe just a bit disappointed you didn’t see him. Your body was in slumber before you heard the banging on your front door. You heavily popped open as your eyes adjusted in the dark room looking at the time it was 12:12am. “Who the hell is banging at my door?” you got up putting a robe on. You began to walk through the dark hallways flicking the switch on. As you made your way to the door  “Do you know what time it is?” you said annoyed as you approached the door.

“Open the door _____.” The familiar voice spoke on the other side of the door. 

Unlocking the door  “What are you doing here? How did you…. Nevermind that stupid question.” you opened the door more letting him in, it was more obvious he looked up your information. “I assumed you were busy, that's why you didn’t respond or you decided to never come back.” crossing your arms you spoke in a teasing tone. “I got caught up that's all…”  He looked around your apartment and noticed how simple it was. He saw some of the same things from the shop in your home.  But notice the plants in your apartment and how well they seemed to be doing. A few photos of you and your family are displayed on the side table. 

“I see…” you scratched the back of your head. “You didn’t have to come here this late, I could have seen you later on.” “I didn’t want to wait till later on.” He closed the gap between you and him as his hand rested on your hip. “It’s very hard to not go a day without touching you.” Kisaki spoke as he knew what you wanted to hear from him and it made you cave in. 

It didn’t take you long to end up on your bed with both of your legs resting on his shoulders. Your hands gripping onto his biceps, the motion of his cock sliding in and out of your dripping cunt hitting your g spot every single time “Kisaki~~ you gonna make me cum again~~~” you whimpered with your glossy-eyed expression. He didn’t care how many times you came as long as he was still hard he was still going to fuck you. Kisaki felt your hands tensing up on your biceps -

“You must have been really needy for me to cum this much tonight.” grunting as he continuously pumped his cock into your warm slick walls. The cockiness tone he spoke was only feeding his ego more. Bringing himself up, removing your legs from his shoulders. From his view, he saw your body, the way your breast bounced each time his cock went inside of you. His hand stimulated your clit as he still thrust into you. The way your body squirms with the overstimulation of your pussy. 

“Fu-fuck~~ Kisaki cum inside me please.” you looked up at him. The two things he hasn’t done since you two have been fucking, one was kissing or and the other cumming inside of you. He knew the risk of him cumming inside of you. The possibilities of what could happen 9 months after just coming one time inside your tight cunt.  It was dangerous enough at times it was hard for him to pull out. A condom was used when he remembered to put it on. “Can’t do that pretty girl you know the rules~~” watching his dick go in and out of you, “too risky.” he let a husk breath out. The mumbling of curse words you could barely make out came from his lips. 

“Break the rules this one time for your pretty girl.” Your voice whimpered softly, giving him a pleading look. ‘My pretty girl… My pretty girl.’ he thought to himself. He liked the sound of it too much. He leaned in closer fixated on the term, his lips hovering over yours “My pretty girl my pretty girl.” he whispered. The increased friction as he was still thrusting at you was getting to him as well. At this point, he was gonna break his own rules for this one moment of pleasure. His lip shoved against yours. You could feel the desperation on his lip as he felt like he was holding back on kissing you for so long and now he did it he didn’t want to stop. His tongue slid into your mouth as he began to dominate yours. His body melted into yours, with every thrust. It seemed to sync when you felt the high coming. The final thrust you didn’t feel him pull out he pressed his pelvis deep into your cunt milking his cock and hearing the low moans as his lips were against yours still. When his lips were removed from yours he was trying to compose his breathing. He was looking down at you, his thoughts were becoming more clear now coming down from his high. He now was feeling a bit of regret for what he did. He got so wrapped up in the moment he couldn’t even bring himself to ask his question to you. Removing his cock from your filled cunt as it began to leak out. “We cannot have that happen again ______” Kisaki sat on the edge rubbing his face before reaching for his glasses on the counter, he began to get dressed quickly... Grabbing your robe looking at the time  3:17am. “Kiskai it's already late, just stay the rest of the night.” you offered him as you tried to reach for his hand

“I can’t do that, I will see ya later.” He grabbed his jacket and made his way to the front door as you were behind him. “Get some rest _____.” 

Since that day you haven't heard from Kisaki at all in 3 days. You didn’t want answers from your cards, you didn’t even ask them. Maybe you were scared of what you would see.  It was hard fighting the temptation. You were so into the moment you blamed yourself for the words you spoke to him. It was eating at you and you didn’t take his rule into consideration at that moment... 9:50pm it was a slow day not wasting any more time, you were going to head home. You began to clean up your workstation when a knock on the glass door caught your attention. Coming from the back you saw Kisaki was at the door. Opening the door for him he didn’t speak a word. “Kisaki?” You spoke his name. “I just want to say is-“ 

“I need a reading” he cut you off he took a seat. 

You raised your brow and he seemed to ignore anything you were saying.  You took a seat cleansing your cards once more, something was off with his aura. “ What is your question?” You began to shuffle your deck.

“Hinata Tachibana will accept my love when I confess to her?” He spoke in a cold tone.

You froze for a moment hearing the question “What?” You looked up at him. ‘Who is this woman he is talking about? Accept his love?’ You felt your heart drop to the pit of your stomach. Your heart was racing rapidly already. 

“ You heard it correctly ______”  Kisaki's eyes looked at you. “Can you make this quick? I need to go take care of things.” He reached into his breast pocket and placed a stack of bills on the table. 

Placing the cards down for a moment. “Who is this woman?” 

“Someone I loved over the years.” He spoke coldly toward you.

You closed your eyes for a moment to compose yourself. Grabbing the deck once more you proceed to shuffle. One after another the three of swords, the moon and the 5 of cups… you ran your fingers through your hair. 

“Kisaki…. She won’t…” you quietly spoke.

“Come again?” As he couldn’t understand the mumbles coming from you but saw the 3 cards in front of you. 

“She won’t accept your love.”  You spoke more clearly to him. 

“Ask the question again.” He spoke a bit more demandingly. This wasn’t something he wanted to hear at all. With everything he has done over the years and to hear an answer like that he wouldn’t accept it. “Now ask the question.”

You were a bit taken back by his tone towards you.  “It's going to have the same outcome no matter how you ask it, Kisaki. She does not see you like that.” you calmly spoke looking at the card you picked the following card the tower. You looked at the cards, your elbows resting on the table, your fingers rubbing your bottom lip. “If you do this something bad is going to happen…”

“Is that so?” responded in a condescending tone. “Something doesn’t seem right…”

Cocking your brow. “This is what they are showing me. Kisaki, she was not meant to be in your life as a lover, she is already bound to someone else…” a bit sterned in your tone. The more he thought about it, the more he became pissed. He felt like you were not speaking the truth to him. “I call bullshit on this reading clearly you're not in the right state of mind to perform it.”

“Seriously? When have I ever lied to you or given you false information about anything when you met me?” you started to get upset about how he was speaking to you. “It was never an issue until now.” Seeing the hurt in your eyes “Don’t tell me you're becoming attached now?” you didn’t respond to the question, still trying to keep it together. You began putting the cards back into the deck before you got up and walked to the back room putting them away. “Your silence says it all,” he said 

Walking back to the front you were 3 feet away in front of him “There was a reason you were brought here in the first place, important encounters are planned by souls before the bodies see each other. Can you look me in the eyes and say you never felt anything for me? I know you can't deny it Kisaki .” you grabbed the money and shoved it at him. “I don’t need this.”

“So you're trying to say we were meant to be together? All this spiritual crap has gone to your head _____. Wake up to reality if you want something you have to go and get it. Each reading you did was luck...” His words stabbed you in the chest. 

“You need to leave and not come back, get out....GET OUT!” You shouted. He didn't utter a word as he saw the broken look on your face. He left in a matter of moments and it was just your in the store. You locked the door, turning around so you couldn’t keep it together anymore. Rushing to the back room, the tears fell onto your cheeks, your back hitting the wall as you slid down, your knees curling to your chest.  

Soulmates often end up together but there were times they didn't, instead,  they were meant to be lessons in our lives. You wish this wasn’t a lesson even with the hurtful words he spoke to you it didn't sound like him… you just know his ego is going to be bruised and he will act irrationally. 

You closed the shop for a few days and you couldn’t handle the chaos that is going to unleash. You didn’t want to see it or hear about it. You avoided touching your cards, you just need a break from it all. Blocking numbers or anything associated with Kisaki you just wanted to forget. 

#kisaki tokyo revengers #tokyo manji gang #kisaki smut #kisaki x reader #tokyo revengers x reader #tokyo revengers smut #tokyo rev x you #tokyo revengers #tokyo rev headcanons #kisaki tetta #tetta kisaki x reader #vals writing #the witch of one piece #tokyo rev x reader #tokyrev #Tetta Kisaki smut #tr hanma #hanma shuji #tokrev hanma

[dootznbootz]

hiii i know we all hate the telegony up in here but,,, hear me out. au where telegonus is not the outcome of a twisted relationship between odysseus and circe and is just penelope's second son, born after odysseus left for war.

now telemachus has a little brother! :D fun silly sibling shenanigans abound! and even more angst as now we have two babies haunted by a man they never knew! yippie!

Probably not a son but a DAUGHTER >:)

The Odyssey mentions how Odysseus' line only has one son. Another reason why the Telegony goes against canon and isn't real >:D

Zeus made our line a line of only sons. Arcesius had only one son, Laertes, and Laertes had only one son, Odysseus, and I am Odysseus’ only son. He fathered me, he left me behind at home, and from me he got no joy.

(Book 16, Fagles)

But a daughter is possible... >:)

Honestly, Odysseus would be fucked up from having a child he never knew about. For years, he has only talked about Telemachus being his son and talking adoringly about him only to realize one he never knew about, who he could never ramble or proudly talk about. I think that would absolutely gut Odysseus. Realizing there was another child he couldn't proudly claim and tell all about. He would probably try to keep her home as long as possible despite being at marriageable age.

Both being Naiad born though would change some things and she might enjoy simply being a naiad full time (that's what Odysseus would probably prefer :P )

In my writing and not an AU, Telemachus' does get a little sister but it's after Odysseus returns. Kind of a miracle as Odysseus and Penelope are around 47-48 when they reunite. So it's kind of scary. (mostly for Odysseus. While he was the hopeful and uplifting one during Penelope's pregnancy with Telemachus, his birth did kind of traumatize Odysseus because of Penelope's recklessness about it. Penelope has to reassure him a lot with the 2nd pregnancy. He's got "I just got back to you and now there's a risk of us being apart again." feelings.)

Also with Telemachus. It's already hard watching his father tell stories to the young children and toss wooden toys to others. Something he so desperately wanted. And now his little sister will get all that? There's a lot of feelings there. :'D He adores her of course but there's some pain there....

#I just really want Odysseus to experience fatherhood :'D It'll be painful in a way. and Telemachus will sadly probably distance himself #a little because of it. but lskdjf skldfj #LET HIM BE A FUCKING DAD #shot by odysseus #Mad rambles #ask #anon #my headcanons

[maximotts]

𝑗𝑢𝑠𝑡 𝑜𝑛𝑒 𝑦𝑜𝑢 • 𝑤. 𝑚𝑎𝑥𝑖𝑚𝑜𝑓𝑓

a/n: I have no excuse for these upcoming fics except I saw MoM and was instantly filled with the urge to be kept by dark!mommy Scarlet Witch Wanda... this is purely such a self-indulgent AU and this is just an intro, but many kinks lie ahead (like in the next fic I'm writing now)

warnings: This is an 18+ AU, minors DNI; These fics are based on the events in Multiverse of Madness, keep that in mind if you're avoiding spoilers; hurt/comfort, fluffy with angst ig; talks of feeling abandoned/depression; manipulation and coersion; Wanda using her powers against reader; mommy kink abound

words: 1.6K

summary: As It Was AU; You lost your Wanda months ago and every day since, you've felt hollow. No one could fix it, except maybe Wanda herself

As It Was AU. || main masterlist.

You were lost without her. 

It wasn’t as simple to move on as people thought; Wanda was your everything. She made your whole schedule, picked out your clothes, made sure you were entertained every moment of the day… she left a hole no one could fill. There wasn’t a person in the world you’d choose to replace her anyways. 

Thankfully you kept your shared house, but it felt empty now. All pictures of her hung on the walls were now just a haunting reminder that she was gone, buried, never coming back. You’d never felt more powerless than at Wanda’s funeral and more alone than every night you fell asleep. It’d been two months of sleeping on the couch— you couldn’t bear the thought of sleeping in your bed anymore; she’d picked it out to be perfect for you two and you feared that if you slept in it too much now, her pillow would stop smelling like her and you’d fully break down. 

You’d lost track of how long you’d been blankly staring at the television, but it had long been dark outside. It was that time of night where your eyelids were growing heavy; you hated that time. Whenever you dreamt, it was of her. Sometimes she spoke to you and others she just held you in silence, but it wasn’t that fleeting time with her you despised. No, it was the waking up that was cruel. How cold you were without Wanda’s arms around you, your cheeks growing wet every morning as you cried over her absence.

Most of the time you fought sleep as long as you could, letting the room almost spin with how stubborn you were against closing your eyes. It was only because of this that you didn’t fully believe your eyes at first.

“You should really sleep if you’re tired, dearest.” Wanda was standing in front of you, looking down at you with concern. And you screamed, a true fearful scream. You scrambled over the side of the couch, hiding from the intruder that just had to be some sick joke. You were able to stop screaming if only to try to hide further from the woman still hovering mere feet away from you, but your breaths were still heavy and you could feel your heart. Faintly you wondered if you were having a heart attack.

Rushed footsteps told you she’d rounded the couch, but it was only when her hand touched your back that you started screaming again, crawling as fast as you could. “Get out, get out! You’re not real!” 

“But sweetheart, I am-”

She was coming closer once more and the farther you went, the closer the imposter got to cornering you. Whoever she was, whatever she wanted, you could barely outrun her, “Leave! Get the fuck out of my house!” 

There was an escape route as you shuffled across the floor. If you could just make it a few feet further, the door was so close… But as you stumbled to your feet, tendrils of red magic wrapped around your ankle and you were falling to the hardwood with a shout. “Let me go!”

“Stop it!” She  yelled as she pulled you back until you laid on your back at her feet; your Wanda never yelled at you, not once. Looking at her, some form of Wanda, angry at you for a reason you couldn’t understand, all you could do was raise your arms to your head and cover your face. Seeing her was painful, but the sight of someone you loved turning against you so angrily left you crying hard. 

“I’m sorry, don’t hurt me…” Tears soaked your sleeves, racked sobs muffling everything around you so that you didn’t hear when she fell to her knees too, reaching out to touch your arm before thinking better of it. Her powers held you still effortlessly, even as you’d stilled with fear. She couldn’t have you slipping away again. “Please, let me go.”

Wanda instantly regretted her outburst; she’d acted selfishly in thinking you’d accept her without explanation. It had taken her so long to find a universe where you were accessible, much less one where she was gone— once any of her met you, they rarely let you go. But here, this was perfect. You needed her and didn’t have her and typically you were such a stubborn little thing, convincing you to let her stay would be easier while you were so vulnerable. It wouldn’t take much though; as independent as you thought yourself to be, Wanda always broke you of that; it was better when you relied on her, she could keep you safer when you let her take over. 

“I’ll let you free when I know you won’t hurt yourself.” Her tone of voice was different now, softer and closer to the Wanda you knew. It took a few moments of stillness to gain the courage to peek out from behind your arms, but she was still right there, looking you over for any signs of injury as if she wasn’t the one who’d started it all. She was definitely Wanda, but this one looked intimidating, her hair red instead of the dark brown you used to love burying your nose in and her face serious, more intense than you’d ever seen her. 

Still, afraid as you were, something about her just being so close to you calmed your heartbeat. If she truly was Wanda, she’d never harmed you before. “W-What do you want?” You hated how weak you sounded; only your Wanda had heard you so meek before. 

As soon as you spoke up, Wanda’s eyes were on you, a smile playing at the corner of her mouth. “You, of course. What else would I want?” She shifted closer, daring to brush some hair from your face and taking the small win of you only slightly flinching away. Good. 

“I don’t know you…” It wasn’t a complete lie. The woman before you was familiar, but she just wasn’t. Something within you screamed to be wary of the stranger who’d so quickly appeared in your living room, but another part, the saddest part, begged to recognize this Wanda as the woman you’d trusted your life with. 

When you sat up, Wanda released your legs and was quick to gather your face in her hands, ignoring that you’d started to struggle again. “Silly thing, of course you know me. I’m Wanda.” You shook your head even with the firm grip she had and her patience was wearing thin. She’d worked hard to be a constant force in your dreams, comforting you even when she couldn’t physically be with you and you weren’t grateful in the slightest. Wanda always did so much for you, all she wanted was appreciation in return. 

“N-No… she’s dead..” Those words hurt like no other; you hated having to say them, both to convince yourself and the new Wanda wiping your tears with her blackened fingertips. Wanda was gone and she wasn’t coming back— you’d spent months reminding yourself of that every day since Steve came to tell you of her fate. “You can’t be her because she’s not here anymore!”

You’d started crying again, overwhelmed by the truth and the impossibility of Wanda before you. She shushed you readily, too much like your Wanda had, and you only cried harder with how much you’d missed such comfort. None of it made sense, not when she kissed your forehead and certainly not when she started muttering explanations of the multiverse. Wanda had mentioned it to you in passing only; it was never something she had interest in. But this Wanda, wherever she came from, seemed well versed in the idea. She wasn’t your Wanda, but she was one who’d searched all over for you. 

In any universe, Wanda loved you and that alone filled your heart with more love than you’d felt since the brunette last kissed you goodbye. “You have no idea what I had to do to find you. All this just for my darling girl.” Something about the way her voice darkened over that sentence sent a chill up your spine; you knew better than to ask what she’d done. The sudden way she’d approached you, the possessive way she was holding you now, warm but enough to ensure you couldn’t worm away, told you this Wanda was dangerous. 

If your Wanda was here, she’d protect you from this threat, but she wasn’t. 

Instead this Wanda was here, bargaining with you to trust her word after she’d made a mess of the lower level of the house you and Wanda built together. You shouldn’t, you really shouldn’t… 

But you missed her so terribly. 

Wanda sensed your hesitation in both your thoughts and your body language. She’d wanted this to be easier, but she should’ve known she’d have to help you transition. Her poor baby wasn’t meant to think this hard anyways. No matter, it was an easy fix. “I’d never hurt you, I know you know that.” 

You were nodding even though you weren’t fully sure, your head relaxing onto her shoulder before you knew what was going on. Your body felt heavy with sleep suddenly, anxieties ebbing in place of the overly familiar smell that was Wanda. “I missed you…” 

“I’m sure you did, sweet thing, but it’s okay,” Wanda supported your weight easily, fingers twitching as she sorted through your thoughts. It’d be better for you both if she got rid of those pesky reservations now. Not everything, just enough to be manageable for tonight. “Mommy’s here now and I promise I’ll never leave you again.” 

#wanda maximoff x reader #dark!wanda maximoff #dark wanda maximoff #dark!wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff x fem!reader #wanda maximoff x female reader #wanda maximoff x f!reader #scarlet witch x reader #wanda maximoff angst #wanda maximoff imagine #wanda maximoff fic #marvel imagine #multiverse of madness fic #motts writes. #maximotts

[nodirectionhome-ao3]

WIP Tag

Thanks for the tag @kay-elle-cee, @alittlebitofeverything23, and @isahorcrux !!! This is such a fun one. :)

List the titles your top five priorities for WIP updates (link your fics for new readers!)

An upcoming scene, event, or detail in each fic that you're looking forward to writing

Bonus: make a poll for your followers to vote on which top 5 WIP they are most excited to see an update on!

Then tag 10 writer friends

Titles

Kindly Stopped for Me: Chapter 33. Lily lives AU, where Lily falls into a coma on Halloween 1981 and wakes up at the end of GoF. Lots of angst and family feels.

The Joker and The Queen: Chapter 3. A Jily fake-dating fic. Shenanigans abound. An "Idiots in Love" kind of story.

James Lives AU (Title TBA): Outline & Chapter 1. Basically a James version of Kindly Stopped for Me. James survives Halloween 1981 in a way that I will not spoil for you, and wakes up later on when Harry is a teenager.

Forever is the Sweetest Con: Short multi-chapter. Jily as con artists who fall in love while trying to con each other.

Fragile Little Flame: A post-war Hinny fic! Most likely a one-shot, but we'll see what happens.

(I’m not including the KSFM Missing Moments that I’m working on in this, since I don’t post them on AO3, but just know that I haven’t forgotten them!!!)

Upcoming Scenes, Events, Details

I've been making some minor changes to my outline for KSFM, so the exact numbers may change, but looking at it from a birds-eye view—Chapters 35 and 39 are two of the angstiest chapters in the entire fic😅 So...in preparation for that...I'm giving you all a slight break from the heaviness of this fic with chapters 33 and 34. I'm hoping it won't feel like a crazy tone switch after the previous two chapters, but I'm excited! Chapter 33 is a bit of a transition chapter (setting up some important things!) so maybe won't be the most exciting thing to read. But it will include Lily watching Harry in a Gryffindor Quidditch match for the first time and the gang celebrating Sirius’s 36th birthday!🎂🎂🎂 So hopefully you all will enjoy that!! And then Chapter 34 will be a Harry POV and will feature some good old-fashioned teenage romance drama😅

Chapter 3 of The Joker and The Queen has taken soooo long to write because it's something I sort of have to be in the right mindset for. (I still don't have a full outline for it because I posted the first chapter impulsively before I really thought about the plot very much lol) But I'm hoping it will be worth the wait!! The chapter will feature Lily meeting Fleamont and Euphemia (and possibly some Potter extended family members too) for the first time. I've never written James's parents before, so I'm excited!

Oh man, oh man. What can I say about the James lives au?? I'm currently drafting multiple vague outline ideas as I work through the timeline that I want it to take place in. But, despite what I've said previously, I'm finding myself starting to lean towards setting it in the OotP universe after all. (but no promises yet!) I'm staying kind of vague about the plot of this since it's still very much under consideration, but I'll just say that Peter's betrayal and its ramifications will be a major focus. The betrayal will happen slightly differently than it does in canon (as some of you have already guessed!), and I expect it to be devastating😈

Forever is the Sweetest Con is a fic that has been percolating in my brain for a WHILE now. I haven't officially outlined it yet, but I already made the banner so it's officially happening! It will be canon divergent, and I'm excited to explore the cat-and-mouse dynamic that I envision when I think about this one.

Fragile Little Flame is a fic inspired by Taylor Swift's "I Know Places" and is also one that I already have a banner and title for, but no outline. It'll be a post-war Hinny fic (I've been wanting to return to writing them!) and will take place in the 19 years between the end of DH and the epilogue. I haven't really thought about the plot in detail yet, but it probably won't be epilogue-compliant. Harry will (probably) be a Quidditch player rather than an Auror, and the fic will explore Harry and Ginny recovering from the war and rebuilding their relationship amongst the chaos of both grief and fame.

Apologies if you've already been tagged! But here's a no-pressure tag to: @suzyq31 @nena-96 @uncertainwallflower @turanga4 @takearisk-ao3 @annasghosts @practicecourts

#wip game #cam writes #wip tag #was tagged

[justmeinadaze]

Ever After: A Virtual Romance Part 4 (Steve X You)

A/N: For any questions you may have about the time period they are in or the previous story please read A Virtual Romance. I seriously love these two lol probably because I was around and a little younger than them in the early 2000s lol

Readers dialogue is pink so its a bit easier on the eyes. Remember if there is a screen name they are IMing if its just italicized dialogue they are texting or talking on the phone. Enjoy!

Warnings: SMUT, of the virtual variety as well as in the backseat of Steves BMW <3, dirty talk abound, FLUFF, they care about each other! ANGST, Steve gets his feelings hurt and gets wasted so the reader has to take him home, Steve and Y/N talk about worries of becoming their parents, we do meet stepmom and stepsisters and they are awful (of course, its cinderella lol)

Word Count: 5599

StealthyNinja02: We really need to get you camera.

Ouyay_Areyay_umbday18: Said the man who already broke his. 

StealthyNinja02: Hey! You can still see me can’t you?!

You giggle as Steve makes a funny face towards his webcam on his desktop before waving. The both of you had been dating for a few months now and things were going really well. True to his word, he didn’t revert back to “King Steve” and continued to ignore all the rumors surrounding his, to them, abrupt transformation before graduation. You two spent almost every day together and in the evenings after dropping you off at home, he would either message you in the chat or text your phone so you both could continue talking about whatever came to mind. 

StealthyNinja02: Now the audio thing… that wasn’t my fault.

Ouyay_Areyay_umbday18: Yeah suuuuuuuuure.

Ouyay_Areyay_umbday18: Now focus! Your history assignment is due tomorrow. 

StealthyNinja02: But 

Ouyay_Areyay_umbday18: No buts! Lol. 

Ouyay_Areyay_umbday18: How about I make you a deal? For every question you get right, I’ll give you a surprise.

StealthyNinja02: Oh? A Y/N surprise, you say.

In his camera you see him playfully tap his chin as if he’s thinking. 

StealthyNinja02: Ok. So this question says…

Steve types out the question and what he believes the answer to be. You had been doing this with him for a while to help him with his grade. It always amused you because he always seemed to think he was stupid or that every answer he gave was wrong, constantly second guessing himself. A good percentage of the time, however, his answer was correct.

Ouyay_Areyay_umbday18: Good job, Steve. See? You know this stuff. 

StealthyNinja02: Yeah that’s because you’re a good teacher : ) What’s my surprise?

You smile as you bite your bottom lip, rising from your desk to slide down the panties you were wearing. Grabbing your phone, you hold it up high and take a picture of you holding them before sending it to his phone. On your dad and stepmom’s plan you could only send so many pictures without it costing a fortune so you needed to make each picture count.

As you watched him in the camera, your smile grew as he reached beside him to grab his own device, flipping it open, and licking his lips as his eyes flick to the webcam. 

StealthyNinja02: That’s not fair. How am I supposed to focus now knowing that you’re sitting there in one of my shirts with no underwear or bra?

Ouyay_Areyay_umbday18: Who says I’m not wearing a bra?

StealthyNinja02: Are you?

Ouyay_Areyay_umbday18: I guess you’ll have to get your next question right then, huh, baby? ;). 

Steve gives you his next question but pauses before giving you an answer. Giggling, you watch as he sorts through his notes making sure his next answer is correct, which it is. 

Taking his shirt off your body, you toss it on your bed and take a picture of your now naked physique. He sighs when his phone pings as he hastily grabs it and flips it open. 

StealthyNinja02: You’re so fucking beautiful, honey, and so goddamn sexy. 

Ouyay_Areyay_umbday18: Thank you <3. Ok, last question. If you get this one right…

StealthyNinja02: Tell me, baby, please.

Ouyay_Areyay_umbday18: I’ll let you listen to me cum.

He exhales again and even through the grainy camera you can tell it’s a shaky breath as he tries to continue focusing so you both can get what you want. As he takes off his shirt and tosses it to the side, you can’t help but absently run your fingers along your chest and over your nipples at the sight. 

You still couldn’t believe your previous online virtual crush was Steve fucking Harrington. This handsome, sweet, charismatic, and funny boy was all yours. Now that you had him, you never understood how you were living your life before without him in your world. 

The soft moments were your favorite when you two did all the things he had mentioned like lying in bed and talking about the future or going on proper dates that had you swoon. The sex was even better with Steve making up for time lost as his hands and tongue constantly roamed your body before, during, and after. Sometimes he would get to the point where you had cum so many times you were begging him to give you a break. 

He loved it, relishing the sounds and intimacy when he would do what you asked and in turn you would curl up into his side and squeeze him to you. 

StealthyNinja02: Ok. Please PLEEEEASE tell me this is the right answer!

You giggle as you watch him wait, anxiously bouncing his leg as he spins is phone in his hand. Teasing him you make him wait longer than you need to even though you already know the answer he gave you was correct.

“Oh, thank God.”, he laughs nervously when he answers your call. “I thought I got it wrong.”

“No, honey. You get them right a lot more then you think you do. I just wanted to show that to you.”

“Hm. I wish you could show me more. I’m at a slight disadvantage since you can see more of me.”  Steve slides his desk chair over till he’s directly in front of his camera palming the growing bulge in his boxers. “You can see me right? See what those sexy, low resolution pictures do to me.”

He grins when he hears you laugh. 

“Don’t laugh, pretty girl. It reminds me of when I was a kid trying to sneak into the living room to watch the playboy channel but it was always grainy with static.”

“Hm, you bad boy. I’m surprised your dad didn’t pay extra to have that channel so it would be clearer.”

“My mom would never allow that. She knows my father is a man slut. That’s why she follows him all over the world to make sure he doesn’t cheat her.” His gentle eyes flick briefly to the camera. “I would never hurt you like that. I would never cheat on you or anything.”

“I know, Steve. I know. I wouldn’t either… and I promise when we move in together if you want the playboy channel you can have it.”

You bite your bottom lip as his nose scrunches, throwing his head back while he laughs. 

“I don’t need anything like that when I have you. Beautiful girl with a beautiful body like yours. Are you still naked for me?”

“I am. I’ve been running my fingers along my skin since you took of your shirt. You’re so handsome.”

“Come on, honey. I know you can talk dirtier than that.”

“Hm, you want me to be dirtier? You want me to tell you I’m so wet just thinking about your face between my thighs? Just imagining your tongue licking me clean till I make a mess again.”

Steve moans loudly into your ear, the sound driving you crazy as you watch him pull out his cock and spit into his hand as he strokes along his length. Sliding your fingers between your folds, you exhale as you rub circles against your clit. 

“Fuck. K-Keep your eyes open and on me, Y/N.”

“How do you—mmm—how do you know they aren’t?”

He smirks slightly as he tilts closer to the webcam. “I fuck you remember? I know everything your body does. Shit… like right now I know you’re only playing with that pretty little clit.” Steve’s smile grows when he hears you laugh in your throat. “Am I wrong?”

“No, baby. You aren’t.”

“Why don’t you put those fingers inside of you and imagine it’s me stretching you open.”

“Steve…”, you moan at his words as you open your legs wider and glide two of you digits into your entrance.

“Good girl. Fuck, Y/N, the sounds you make… I wish I was there, honey, feeling that warm pussy squeezing me tightly.”

“Pl-Please, Steve. Don’t stop.”

“You want me to keep talking to you? Tell you how fucking sexy you are. Mmm—goddamn it—how much I wish I was there so I can pump my dick so deep into you that you can feel me in your stomach. Feeling your nails drag down my back as you beg me to make you cum. Fuck…cum for me, baby girl. I need to hear it.”

You panted into the phone as you watched him stroke himself faster at the sound. Chanting his name, your thighs shook as you came and with half lidded eyes, you kept them on your screen as he folded into himself, releasing rope after rope of his seed. 

“Jesus Christ. That was amazing. Are you ok?”

“Yeah, I’m alright.”

Steve grins at your now sleepy tone. “Sweetheart, turn off your computer and go get into bed.”

“Will you come with me?”

“Don’t I always?”

You both turn off your computers, listening to his steady breathing as you both climb into your separate beds and pull up the covers over your tired frames. 

“I can’t wait for us to move in together so I can really go to bed with you and hold you. I like when I can play with your hair or just touch your face.”

“Steve?”

“Yeah, baby?”

“I love you.” Your eyes started to droop and you vaguely heard his voice trying to get your attention in the background. “I’ll talk to you tomorrow, ok?”

“Wait! Honey, did you mean that? Or were you just saying that because you’re tired? Y/N!”

##########

“Hey, have you heard from Steve?”

Sam, your best friend, looked at you like you had gone insane. 

“Um, no. Why would I know where your boyfriend is? You two are the ones that talk 24/7.”

“I mean, usually he picks me up in the morning but he left me a message saying he couldn’t and he’s not answering my texts. I’m starting to get worried.”

“Did something happen?”

“I…I think I told him I loved him as I was falling asleep.”

“Oof. That’s a big step. Why do you think you said it and not know that you did?”

“I was falling asleep. When I woke up I thought it was dream but with him being MIA—”

“He’s not missing. He’s just avoiding you.”, Carol snickers as she walks by. “Steve Harrington doesn’t do the love thing no matter what part of the student body he’s fucking.”

“Fuck off, Carol.”, Sam growls. “No one asked you.”

“Don’t believe me? Why don’t you go ask him? He’s in the gym right now with Tommy and the other guys for practice.”

Your heart tells you not to; to ignore her and trust him but your brain won’t stop screaming to follow her as you head for the gym. To your surprise, she wasn’t lying. There he was running back and forth on the court as he blocked Tommy from making a basket. 

Steve smiled when he saw you but it fell slightly when he saw you standing next to his old friend. 

“Hey baby. Everything ok?”

“I was going to ask you that. I just haven’t been able to reach you and I got worried.”

“My dad made me late this morning because he wanted to talk to me again about my future.”, he sighs as he rolls his eyes. 

“And my texts?”

“I forgot my phone at home because of this morning. I’ve been looking for you all day but I figured as soon as we were done here I’d go sit with you for the last of your lunch. Did I miss something? Why are you here and with Carol?”

“Thanks. Love you to, Harrington.”, she sasses.

“I got worried…”

“So you came to find me with the girl you hate?”

Grabbing his arm, you pull him away from prying ears as Tommy comes to stand next to his girlfriend. 

“Did…Did I tell you I love you last night?”

Steve blinks as he tries to understand how A equals B, how you telling him you loved him equated to you speaking with the girl who threatened to beat you up. 

“Yes, yes you did.”

“What did you say?”

“I asked you if you meant it or if you were just loopy from being exhausted and before you answered you hung up. I’m sorry, Y/N. I’m really confused. Why are you here with Carol?”

“Do you love me?”

“Goddamn it. Answer my question first because this will be the third fucking time I’m asking it.”

Hearing his tone shift like that was new for you. Yeah, you two had bickered especially after you for out he was the secret admirer you had been talking to all semester but this was different. Right now, he sounded angry.

“I was talking to Sam and she overheard. She said that ‘Steve Harrington doesn’t do the love thing.’”

“And you believed her?”

“Steve, I haven’t heard from you all day! Normally, you message me 24/7 when you’re not with me. What was I supposed to think!?”

“You’re supposed to trust me and not some girl who bullied you!”

“Let’s not forget, your highness, that you used to be one of them!”

“Ooo! Nice one, Y/L/N!”

“SHUT THE FUCK UP, TOMMY!”, you and Steve shout in unison. 

Without saying a word, Steve turns away from you and heads for the locker room. 

***

He didn’t answer any of your messages or calls for the rest of the day. That following Saturday morning you kept trying to no avail and it killed you. This must be how he felt when you didn’t answer after the Halloween dance. 

“Y/N, if I were you I would come to this party. Your boyfriend is getting drunk off his ass and it’s not pretty.”

You roll your eyes at Sam’s text and after 20 minutes you show up at her side. 

“Your prince charming.”, she gestures towards Steve who was jugging back a red cup at a kitchen island with other boys surrounding him as it dribbled down his down. 

“WHOA! Another!”

“No, no, Steve Harrington. You’ve had enough.”

“Hey! You look exactly like my girlfriend. She’s so prettyful.” You can’t help but smile at his slurred words as you toss Sam your keys.

“Give me a head start and then meet me at his house. I’ll take you home after.”

Your best friend nods as you sling his arm over your shoulders and walk him towards his car. As you begin to drive, he continues to babble at you as you smirk and nod your head at his drunken questions. 

“Do you know my girlfriend?! Seriously, you guys could be related. Hey! If you see her, can you give her something for me, please?” He unbuckles his seatbelt and clumsily digs in the backseat. 

“Steve, baby, sit back down, okay.”

“HERE! I’ll put this right here…so you don’t forget it. I-I-I got her a webcam today so I can see her face. I miss her face.”

“Why don’t you give it to her in person?”

His hair moves from side to side as he shakes his head. “Mad at her.”

“Why are you mad at her?”

“Cause she still thinks I’m that asshole…king Steve or whatever…”, he sighs as he absently gestures in the air. “I don’t know what else to do to convince her…I different.”

“Maybe…maybe it has nothing to do with you. Maybe she’s just afraid of losing you because of what she’s been through.”

His eyes narrow drunkenly in your direction before leaning his head on your shoulder.

“You are so smart. You have big brain like her.” You laugh really hard at his comment making him smile widely. “One of many reasons I love her. God, I love her sooooooo much. I knew when we had started talking I cared about her but when she showed up at the dance and I saw those beautiful eyes… I’ll tell you, friend, I knew I wanted to marry her then and there.”

You parked outside of his house and came around to pull him out of the passenger side. As he placed his arm around your shoulder, he craned his neck, and noticed you were crying. 

“Oh no! No, prettyful girl. Don’t cry.” Steve stopped and tried to wipe your eyes with his sleeve. “I sorry if I made you sad.”

“No, honey, you didn’t make me sad.” Guiding him into his house, you practically carried him up the stairs and placed him on his bed. “Ok, I’m going to take off your shoes and pants ok?”

“No! I can do it! I may be mad at my girlfriend but I’m not my dad.”, he giggles as he sits up to wobbly untie his laces. “My father is a dick. He ber-berate…berate…he yells at me and my mom all the time. I’m never going to be like him.”

“No, Steve. You won’t.”

“I AM going to work hard like he did though. I wanna buy Y/N a house like this one day and be able to give her everything she deserves. Oh! And we’ll have six kids.”

“My goodness!”

A big tooth filled grin spreads along his face and he pushes down his jeans before tossing them on his floor. 

“Can I ask you one more question, angel? You’re an angel right?”

“That’s what my boyfriend tells me.”, you smile as you try to guide him to lay down with your hands. 

“Do you think she’s scared to? Like how I’m afraid of becoming my dad she’s afraid of me leaving like her mom did. Some-sometimes I think that’s why she expect the worse all the time.”

“Oh, sweetheart. I don’t think that’s why. I can understand why you would think that though.”

He nodded as his eyes closed and he immediately passed out. 

That following morning, Steve work up to a private message on his computer.

Ouyay_Areyay_umbday18: I completely understand if you don’t want to see my right now but I want to show you something if that’s ok. My family is having dinner at Enzo’s at 7pm and I would like for you to come. If not that’s ok to. I’ll still love you, Steve Harrington.

#############

Steve had texted you asking what he should wear and you responded by telling him how you were dressed. He found this slightly odd but you told him it would make sense later. Tonight, you were wearing a cute blue sunflower dress with flats and your hair down near your shoulders. In return, he showed up the restaurant wearing one of his solid color polos and a pair of black slacks with some nice black shoes. 

You swooned as soon as you saw him, resisting the urge to tackle him into a big bear hug. 

“You look so good.”

“Thank you. So do you. I like this dress.”, he softly smiled as he lightly tugged on the hem. 

“Dad. This is the boy I was telling you about. This is—”

“Steve Harrington! I know all about you, son. Well, your father.”, your dad chuckles loudly as he firmly shakes the boy’s hand. “This is my wife Meredith…”

Steve reached out to shake her hand as well but she just politely nodded as her eyes scanned him up and down. 

“And these are my other two daughters, Olivia and Savannah.”

“STEP daughters. Hi Steve.”, Olivia coos in a pitch voice that makes you cringe.

“Wow, you are way better looking than we were expecting especially if you’re dating Y/N.”, Savannah giggled. 

You watched his face contort into something more stoic as he stepped back and closer to your side. 

“Alright family! Let’s go get some food.”, your dad hollers playfully as he ushers with his arms for everyone to go inside. 

***

Your father loved Steve, asking him a ton of questions about himself with an animated excitement that had the boy grinning. 

“I’m really glad you could join us, Steve. The girls here usually live with their dad but we try to get together at least once a month for a big family get together to catch up but as I’m sure you’ve notice I do the bulk of the talking.”, he laughed. 

“Not a problem. It’s nice to finally meet Y/N’s family.”

“Have you met his yet, sweetie?”

“I haven’t, dad, but they seem to never be in Hawkins for a long enough time to do so.”

“Well, when you have money to burn like he does, I wouldn’t be home either.”, Meredith sighs as she chugs back the whine in her glass. “But I married an electrician. I guess Y/N’s luckier than me.”

You dad nervously smiles as he glances Steve’s way. “She tends to get a little feisty when she drinks. I’m a fantastic electrician.” Your stepmom snorts at the comment. “I like working with my hands.”

“What about you, Stevie? Do you like working with those big, beautiful hands?”, Olivia flirted.

“I’m, um, probably not as skilled as your dad when it comes to lights and fixing things.”

“Stepdad.”, Savannah corrects. “Don’t worry. We can teach you a thing or two.”

“I’m…I’m good. Y/N shows me enough.” Trying to change the subject he turns towards your father again. “She actually helps me a lot with my schoolwork.”

“Pfft, you may want to reconsider having her tutor you, honey. She has his genes and let’s just say he’s not exactly Einstein.”

Your dad laughs nervously. “Meredith, can I talk to you alone for a moment, please?”

As you watch them get up and walk away from the table, Steve takes your hand in his in your lap.

“So Y/N, how’d you manage to brainwash this one?”

“Oh, you know me, Savannah. I just purchased him out of a catalogue so you both would think I was cool. That’s all I need to feel complete; your validation.”

“Hm. Steve, baby, trust me, you can do some much better.”

He was so busy watching your dad and stepmom fight outside the front door that he hadn’t heard a word either of them had said. When your eyes found his, you almost literally saw the lightbulb in his head go off. 

“Do you want to get out of here?”

“Please.”, you happily exhale as he stands and tugs your hand. 

“—I can leave any time I want to! You think I can’t find a better man than you—”

“Y/N, hey, where are you two running off to?”, your father asks, interrupting his wife.

“We’re just going to get some dessert. I’ll be home later.”

“It was very nice meeting you, sir.” Steve shakes his hand one more time before you both run to his car.

##############

“Dude, those women are insane!” You and Steve cackle as he reaches into the Styrofoam container with his fork and takes a bite of the chocolate cake he bought for you to share from the bakery down the street. 

He had driven you to an excluded area of lover’s lake while you talked about the evening. 

“How do you think I feel? God, I don’t know what I’d do if her girls lived with us to. But that’s why I wanted you to see that. Steve, I’m not afraid of you leaving my mother did. I seriously barely remember her. I do however remember all the fights between Meredith and my dad. Her talking down to him constantly and making him feel like garbage. It would kill me if I hurt you like she does.”

“It doesn’t help that you have two Carol’s that come around reiterating that scary feeling.” You nod at his assessment. “Honey, you’re nothing them I assure you.”

“And you are nothing like your father.” You point your fork at him as you widen your eyes playfully making him smile. “I love you, Steve. Very much.”

“I love you to, Y/N.”

Grinning, you lean forward to give him a kiss. 

“I’ve never been to Lover’s Lake before. What does one do here?”

“Wanna go for a swim?”

“Oh, Steve—”

“Come on! There’s no one around.”, he chuckles as he gets out of his car and you do the same. 

After removing your clothes, Steve holds your hand as you both jump in, giggling when he bounces back up and shakes his now flat hair out of his face.

“Why are you laughing at me?”

“Because…” you smile as you swim over to him and wrap your arms around his neck. “It’s so odd not seeing your hair all floofy.”

“Floofy? That’s fucking cute.”

“No, what’s fucking cute is you when you’re drunk. ‘You’re an angel right?’”, you mimic in his voice as he laughs and begins floating around with you in his arms.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. What else did I say? Anything incriminating?”

“Hmmm…no. Well except you’re going to work hard and buy me a big house.”

“That’s true.”

“Apparently, we are having six kids!”

“Yup. Three boys and three girls.”, he grins.

“And… you said when you saw me that night at the Halloween dance…you knew you wanted to marry me.”

Steve’s hands slide a bit lower down your back as you wrap your legs around his waist.

“Yeah, that’s true to. You took my breath away.”

“Steve…”

 He beams down at you as his fingers come up to move a strand of hair that was sticking to your cheek. 

“I fell for you the moment we started talking online. Remember, I told you I knew you were different. It was just an added benefit that you are fucking gorgeous.” You roll your eyes in jest making his smile grow as he holds you tighter. “You were the most BEAUTIFUL girl at that dance.” Steve spun you around as you giggled clinging to his neck as your fingers wound in his hair. 

“Jesus and then you kissed me…” He groaned as his head fell in the nook between your neck and shoulder while he continued to murmur against your skin. “You tasted so good; I swear I fucking dreamed about it.”

“No, you didn’t.”

“I did.” Steve lips lightly trailed along your neck up to your ear. “I could still feel your hand on my dick to. I fantasized about those tiny hands around me.”

Your own palm slithered between your bodies as you took ahold of his cock and began stroking him under the water.

“Like that, baby?”

“Fuck, yes, honey, exactly like that.”, he whimpered as he sucked the flesh along your throat. 

“What else did you fantasize about that night, Steve? Tell me.”

“I—shit—I pictured you on your knees in front of me in-in a bra and panties wearing that mask—that’s it, baby—just looking up at me with those beautiful eyes while you stroked my cock.”

You moaned his name and it became almost too much for him as he swam back with you in tow towards the shoreline. Lifting you in his arms, he opened his back seat, and laid you down on your back before climbing in with you.

“Wait! Fuck, I’m…we’re going to get your car all wet.”

“Least of my worries right now, honey.”

“Do you have anything?”

You can’t help but giggle as you watch his soaking wet frame lean between his front seats as he reaches for his glove compartment and aggressively digs around until he finds a condom. After he crawls back to you, he leans back on his knees as he tears the foil with his teeth. 

You loved that you had this effect on him. Steve Harrington always seemed so confident out among the student body and citizens of Hawkins but when it came to you he always felt so lucky to have you that he wanted everything to be perfect. 

Reaching behind your head, he reorganized some of his jackets as a makeshift pillow before lining himself up with your entrance. 

“Please, Steve. I need you.”

You both mewled as he gradually began guiding himself into you. You and Steve had been together for months now but you still weren’t used to his size. He was the biggest person you had ever been with and it still took some adjusting. Your palm shot out to rest on his lower stomach as his thumb massaged slow circles into your clit while he did small thrusts allowing him to fill you inch by inch. 

“F-Fuck, baby. That’s it. You’re doing so good. Taking my cock so fucking well.”, he praised. “Goddamn, Y/N. So fucking tight…you drive me crazy, baby.”

When his hips finally connected with yours, Steve leaned down, placing a soft kiss on your lips as he bent one of your legs, holding your thigh and pushing it forward till your knee was near your chest. Moaning into you his mouth, he steadily pumped into you, his length dragging against your walls and his tip coming back to roughly glide along your sensitive spot. 

“St-Steve—fuck—harder. Please.”

He grunted as he did what your asked, the car rocking underneath you as you gripped the seat. When his glassy lust filled eyes met yours, he smirked as he released your leg and fell on to your body, pushing himself deeper into your cunt as he rolled his hips.

“Oh! Ba-baby… fuck… just like that, Steve.”

The man lifted his head, hovering his face just above yours as he whispered against your lips. 

“Like that, honey? Are you gonna cum, pretty girl? That’s right. Cum, Y/N. Cum all over my cock and moan my name. I love hearing you moan my name as your eyes roll back. Mmm—do you think you can keep them on me tonight?”

Subtly nodding, your mouth falls open, panting his name against his skin as you came hard around him. Your eyes never left his and he nodded in approval as he thrust his hips faster into yours. 

“Good girl. So fucking sexy when you cum. I love you so much, Y/N.”

“I-I love you to, Steve. Cum, baby, please.”

His forehead fell on yours as he tried to keep his own eyes. At the last minute, they squeezed shut as he whimpered and spilled into the condom. 

“Fuck… Are you ok, honey?”

“Yeah. Go slow.”

Steve’s hair tickles your face as he glances between you both and carefully pulls out of your now sore but satisfied body. 

“I know, baby. I know. Oh shit. You’re shaking. Hang on.”, he coos as he climbs out to open the trunk and grab a towel. When he crawls back in he wraps it around you as well as one of the jackets you had been using as a pillow before tugging you to his side. 

The two of you sit there in a comfortable silence as he occasionally runs his hands along your arms trying to warm you. 

“I wish we could fall asleep together.”, you sigh as you lean on his shoulder.

“Well, we have a couple more months until we graduate and then 2 months of summer…”

“I was thinking we could look for a place and move in during the summer. That way we can be settled before school starts.”

“We aren’t going to be able to get anything fancy.”

“Steve, you know I don’t care about that.”

The man heavily exhales before he shifts his gaze to you. 

“Do you remember the other day when I told you my dad wanted to talk to me again about my future? Yeah, it was more of a ‘I’m cutting you off’ conversation.”

“What? Why?”

“To teach me a lesson. I couldn’t get into school and I don’t want to work for his stupid company so…”, he shrugs.

Tilting you head, you tenderly kiss his cheek. 

“We’ll be ok. We can figure it out.”

****

It was a little after midnight when he dropped you off back home and as you got ready for bed your phone dinged with a message from Steve. 

Hey did you set up that webcam I got you?

Sir! Haven’t you seen enough of me today?! 

Yes I set it up AND it has sound. 

I can never see enough of you : ).

Sign in and turn it on. 

It takes you moment to do what he asks as your computer slowly loads up but once you finally have it running, you grin when you see his face illuminate that little box in the corner of the IM. 

StealthyNinja02: Hey beautiful.

“Hey handsome.”

StealthyNinja02: I was thinking about what you said about falling asleep together. If you’re comfortable with it, we can leave these on.

He points towards his camera.

StealthyNinja02: We don’t have to do it every night but I know you and I had a rough couple of days. I was just about to crawl into bed myself and all I could think about was how I wish you were in my arms. I figured this could be a substitute. 

Your desk was adjacent to the side of your bed so he wouldn’t have any problems seeing you. Steve’s camera got the end of his bed so all you would see is his hair and feet. 

“Okay.”

His eyes followed you as you got under your covers and faced your screen. He did the same except you noticed he grabbed a pillow and laid his head towards the end of his bed so you could actually see his face making you smile. 

“Good night, prince charming. I love you.”

Your phone vibrated and you quickly read it before your eyes became too heavy to keep open. 

Sweet dreams, honey. I love you to.”

##########

@tessab154 @snackycake1975 @lunatictardis

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#steve harrington #steve x reader #steve smut #steve fluff #steve harrington smut #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington x you #steve harrington stranger things #steve stranger things #steve harrington fanfic #fan fiction #stranger things #joe keery smut #joe keery fluff #joe keery #steve harrington x reader #stranger things au #stranger things fanfiction #steve fanfic #steve harrington au

[fumiku]

Hear ye hear ye!

I come bringing two Dungeon Meshi marchil fanfics to share

Enough

He got crumbs of it in moments, here and there, and it would be more than enough to last the winter. Chil knew how to live on little, with only what he could afford. But love? Love he had had enough of for a lifetime.

I'll start with the shorter one that I wrote first, a quick Chilchuck POV 1.3k words oneshot that's bittersweet if not just plainly sad. It’s about repressing a crush essentially, but the marchil is mostly a front for a character study about Chilchuck’s complex feelings on his marital situation and love in general. I’ve been told many times in comments that even without shipping marchil it was enjoyable, so give it a shot if that sounds interesting!

He soaked her in, like hard bread softening in broth.

Grind Me Down Sweetly

Even years after their journey into the dungeon, Marcille wasn’t quite over her existential dread over short lifespans… And it showed. Every other day, she came by to Chilchuck’s locksmith shop with a shocking lack of locks to smith.

Coffeeshop au except it’s not an au and there’s no coffeeshop. This one is a long oneshot of 17k words, and contains flashbacks that are meant to loosely span over a year. This fic can pretty much be entirely read as platonic. They’re just close friends but they give married energy is all. Slice of life and cozy with a side of banter & tsundere behavior, and existential dread hurt/comfort as the cherry on the sundae. It contains some classic Dungeon Meshi things like storytelling through cooking and sharing meals~ If you like the Marcille and Chilchuck dynamic in canon, this is pretty much just a bunch of that, shenanigans abound!

She clung to her friends like time was always running out.

Blonde hair is the epitome of beauty to him meanwhile his greying hair brings her existential despair. I am composed and collected about this

"I am going to chase you out with a broom"

Some related-ish memes I made!

Extra author notes and marchil rambling under cut

With how chil is so irritable and private about romance and his feelings it makes sense that their romance would have passive-agressive energy. Are they just friends or pining? Oh wouldn’t you like to know. Are they just lightheartedly bantering or is he legitimately pissed or are they blinking in morse code their true feelings at each other? Yes

My post-canon timeline is Chilchuck lives a nice life living alone in his house-shop except his friends all visit him and care, and even though he likes living alone it’s also bittersweet and every corner of his life is haunted by the ones he loves and loved and the moments he had with them. That’s it that’s all I want… (mostly the nice life part lol)

My marchil manifesto is that she grows on him stubbornly like fungal yeast and it brings out his flavor like beer <3 Because she stubbornly puts her nose everywhere and refuses to give up on getting closer to her friends and it makes him open up and repress his feelings less and aaaa <33 Obligatory shout out to the dunmeshi discord serv for engaging with my rambles

For someone who dislikes alcohol I’m having so much fun working beer metaphors and stuff into the writing, Chilchuck has all the fun motifs to play with fr... Traps, lockpicking, married life, work, destitution, starvation, rejection, repression, opening urself up to the world. Give me the most domestic fluff and give it a subtle foundation of angst and hurt comfort 👌

And I do think that Marcille takes a particular interest in Chilchuck especially because he’s so set on being a closed book as well. Yeah she def is like 👀 at him. Aaah the way she wants to meet his family so bad 😭💕 I think she romanticizes him & his family life/idealizes him as a virtuous husband a lot too. Like how she tends to think of things in a more flowery story-like way.

I do compare him to bread and her to soup in that he soaks up in her warm vibes and softens up. Which has become a personal favorite. He was bread, she was soup, can I make it any more obvious /lyr Soggy bread Chilchuck is so funny to me. Like, you know that rock solid bread but then you soak it in soup and then it just becomes the softest crumbliest thing. I think Chilchuck is a really hard bread that will break your teeth if you don’t put him in some soup beforehand. Or wine. I wracked my brain a lot about what food Chil would like (because his Adventurer’s Bible profile just says he love alcohol and hates sweet dishes rip) and I end up giving him a bread motif a lot, since it pairs well with alcohol and whatnot.

With marchil I either do unrequited angst because Chilchuck will NOT allow himself to feel, or the most domestic fluffy shit ever but in a mostly platonic dimension because once again -gestures at Chilchuck- But in a true Marcille "If I was Chilchuck’s wife" Donato fashion she manages to get her nose into the most stubborn’s people stuff like a barnacle and it’s. So married people coded anyways. They’re a lil messed up but it’s ok they’ll iron out those bumps. Ironing because they are gonna do the most domestic chores together 🔥🔥 MARRIEDCORE I TELL YOU I should get around to making more fics and more different vibes though, I already have a bunch of prompts written down~

Even more rambling and headcanons!!

I hc that when he gets his shop all his living quarters are half-foot sized so whenever the party comes to visit they suffer sitting down at the dinner table and whatnot

There’s a very specific horror in not being able to grow old with your loved one… It’s gotta be rough being in a relationship where you don’t mature at the same speed/rate. It must be so heartbreaking to turn around and your lover suddenly looks 70 while you’re still like 26 Chilchuck living until he lives with either Meijack or Flertom or at the castle and spends his days grumbling about people being even more incompetent than they used to be real. He can live longer than 50 🙏 come on peepaw you can make it to 70. He’s got so many friends ready to nurse him, prob while he complains about it. This is why I find elderly half-foots a funny mental picture. For a while I wondered if half-foots aged visually much at all in the traditional sense, and then I remembered these.

In my post-canon headcanons I’ve adopted the idea that Marcille doesn’t do her hair, it’s always someone else making her hairdos like an attendant or Kabru and like maybe Falin learns. In the "it takes a village to raise someone" community mutual aid energy… And the rare times where the task befalls Chilchuck he learns how to put it in a single braid (even if it’s so much hair for him to hold in his small hands all at once rip) because the one time he braided it in two in canon it reminded him of Meijack and gave him psychic damage. WHICH. Ohhh my god you have no idea how much I care about Chilchuck’s daughters now. After writing the first half of Grind Me Down Sweetly I am forever changed I know them all by name and know everything there is to know about them, I am making so many headcanons every day… Meijack wears thigh-high boots because she hates when sand, dirt or snow gets in her shoes- I have fanart coming up of them over at @fuumiku and I’d love making fics centered around them as well eventually yippee The angst of old senile Chilchuck still tying marcille's hair... Old senile chilchuck confusing marcille for one of his daughters… "Have you gotten taller? Oh how much you’ve grown" -breaking his neck looking up at her- I want Chilchuck to get the top notch elder treatment.

Ok this is the alcoholism tangent. I really want to believe Chilchuck can be super old, but… Realistically he’s gonna drink himself to an early grave, he’s a work hard play hard kinda guy.

Marcille would be horrified if she knew the extent of it fr fr, but I do think it’d drive a wedge between them if she tried getting him to lay off of it… If he’s open to it though that’d be so nice and sweet. Hey hey btw did you know, Chilchuck is canonically underweight due to extremely strict dieting and alcohol can act as a good hunger suppressant! Lots of issues to dig into here It’d be cute if his daughters visit him often and collectively keep tabs on him in a caring way. It’s less cute actually beinh the daughter and having to deal with it but- CHILCHUCK IS WORTH IT okay!!! Where’s that meme of "You can fix him? So is 5 other people y’all look like a construction crew" bc this increasingly looks like ‘Marcille Senshi Laios Izutsumi and his family make sure he doesn’t poison himself like a dog with chocolate’ mission.

Truly for some people reason just flies out the window when it comes to alcohol, coherence gives way to excuses. He reminds of someone I know who got a grave disease that’s worsened by alcohol and just. Continues to take it regularly. You know that thing that’s said where "an alcoholic parent will have 2 kids, one will grow to be alcoholic too while the other will never touch a drop of alcohol" and Chilchuck is def the first I think. He gives the vibe that he’d say "An alcoholic parent puts a strain on familial relationships?? Pshh, my father was and look at me! I turned out great!". I don’t think Chil could really get shaken out of it at this point tbh, seems very ingrained in him, would prob fight it back. I relate with my own familial situation ughh. Maybe if he realized how it hurt the people around him and not only himself though…. I’d def like to see him ease up on it. Drinking is often a social activity though. That gives me hope, especially with the whole dunmeshi lesson of sharing meals, that he might be able to/have recontextualized how or when he likes to take alcohol, that alcohol is better when you have others with you and you’re still able to talk and whatnot. Chilchuck says that he’s pretty picky with alcohol tho, like he has specific tastes or a high bar. Laios can ban good beer in the kingdom and then Chilchuck just stops because it all tastes awful and he’s not rich enough to import. The brewery he likes mysteriously burns down in a fireball incident one night. Marcille risks prison for her loved ones part 2, now with diplomatic immunity! ✨

I have hcs about Chil’s family dynamic, about his daughters and how alcoholism or workaholism may have affected everyone (not me inferring that Puckpatti being the most idealistic and optimistic from Chil’s daughters is probably a result from her being the youngest and perhaps Chil being the most often at work during that time and so she was mostly raised by her mother without much involvement from him). That’s a topic for another day though, for now I leave you all with thoughts of Flertom painting flowers on a shitty ceramic mug when she was 3 and Chil begrudgingly asking Marcille advice on picking a birthday gift for Puckpatti :) Oh yeah, because if we look at the timeline in The Adventurer’s Bible and combine it with when Chilchuck said that "Due to certain circumstances he hasn’t seen his wife or daughters in years" in the Senshi backstory chapter, besides letters with Flertom he has seemingly not seen them in 4 years. 4 YEARS. Thank god dungeons disappeared, it took that much for him to retire

#dungeon meshi #fanfiction #chilchuck tims #marcille donato #marchil #CHILCHUCK IS UNDER ATTACK!! #Breaking news #old man who refuses to open his heart and accept love fighting for his life against nosy friend #Everyone thinks Laios is the rabid dog of the party but when it comes to Chilchuck it totally becomes Marcille and I love that for them #My favorite marchil dynamic is that they’re close friends but they give married energy #not casual reminder at all that Chilchuck is canonically underweight #Y’all that follow my meme dumps are getting a sneak peek #So many headcanons and so much rambling oops #A lot of it’s copy pasted from the dunmeshi discord hi friendos #fumiku fanfic #fumiku fics

[blossomwritesthings]

𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐚𝐥 𝐦𝐲 𝐛𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡 𝐚𝐰𝐚𝐲.

pairing: minho x felix (minlix)

genre: idol!minho/idol!felix. introvert minho & extrovert felix. literally grumpy and sunshine troupe. hurt/comfort. angst!! fluff. pining galore. slightly suggestive at some points. minho pov. confession au! minho is soo fucking whipped for felix it's hilarious sksk-

content & warnings: explicit & strong language. mild thematic elements. the angst is FELT in this one. hurt feelings and misunderstandings abound. minho is soo fucking whipped for felix it's hilarious sksk-

word count: 3.5k

summary: although they were complete opposites, minho and felix got along perfectly - fit together like the two halves of a silvery moon. at least, that's what minho had initially thought for years, until felix suddenly starts outright avoiding him.

a/n: this one's on the pure, angsty side of things ya'll. a little bit suggestive, but nothing too spicy. 🫣 I'm srsly abt to kms over this entire thing, I'm literally losing my fucking MIND over how good this shit is??? 😭😫 also, their perf at lola?? yeah, it's gonna take me at LEAST 30 full business days to get over that shit. 😃👍🏼 ANYWAYS .... if ya'll are looking for more minlix content from me, check out the series on ao3 that this oneshot is apart of... it's pretty much nsfw for now, but I plan to write more angsty/fluffy stuff for it in the future as well!! 🤡

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ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ʀᴇᴘᴏsᴛ ᴛᴏ ᴏᴛʜᴇʀ sɪᴛᴇs (ᴛʜɪs ɪɴᴄʟᴜᴅᴇs ᴛʀᴀɴsʟᴀᴛɪᴏɴs). © ʙʟᴏssᴏᴍᴡʀɪᴛᴇsᴛʜɪɴɢs ⤐ ᴀʟʟ ʀɪɢʜᴛs ʀᴇsᴇʀᴠᴇᴅ

It was a universally known fact that Lee Minho was a total and complete introvert. 

  A textbook one, to be honest. 

  Hating big crowds, quiet in group settings. You know, the usual traits for an introvert. 

  And everyone around him seemed to know this fact. They all acknowledged it and respected his boundaries. The boys always took into account his needs and his limits and never pushed him to the brink. 

  Even if the teasing could sometimes get a bit out of hand. 

  At least, everyone except Lee Felix knew about Minho's introverted ways. 

  Or perhaps, the younger male realized it but just failed to take into account the way he should treat Minho differently from the rest. 

  So instead of avoiding inviting Minho out to big parties, Felix was always the first to ask him to join. 

  And how could Minho ever possibly say no to him... to that face? 

 With that cute, little pouty mouth and those constellations of freckles and those starry eyes? 

  Usually, Minho almost always gave in to Felix's requests. 

  He was under no obligation to do so, though. They were only bandmates. Only best friends. 

  Nothing else. 

  But sometimes, when he was persuaded to go out on the town with Felix, that small voice in the back of his head would make its appearance. Telling Minho that he should just confess his feelings. That he should just admit to what he was thinking about Felix. 

  Yeah, he only thought about such things sometimes... 

  The dark, twisted musings he often had of the younger, turquoise-blue-haired male definitely didn't bubble up into his head regularly. 

  No, definitely not... 

  Nevertheless, Felix seemed to continually live in ignorant bliss about Minho's introverted ways. Almost like, his life was so bright and full of sunshine, that he couldn't see anything past his extroverted way of thinking. 

  This became apparent by how fucking talkative he was. 

  Especially at the end of the day, when their schedules were done and they had arrived home at the dorm. 

  Felix always seemed to trap Minho when Seungmin and Jeongin were away, either busy getting ready for bed or watching a tv show in their respective bedrooms. 

  Like a spider catching a wee fly in its web, Felix would corner Minho throughout their shared dorm - whether it was in the kitchen, living room, or bathroom. 

  The conversations were always pretty mindless, with him usually rambling off about the day's activities. And almost all of the time, Minho just listened. 

  Never interrupting, never stopping him. 

  Sure, he was really fucking tired from the workday.

  And sure, he kind of wanted to unwind in his own space... get lost in his head, and stay in the silence that he loved so much. 

  But he also kind of loved the conversations. 

 Albeit, they were quite one-sided, although Felix didn't seem to mind one bit. 

 To be honest, he didn't even seem to notice Minho's quietness most of the time. 

  He'd just follow Minho around the house, chatting up a storm, gesturing with his tiny hands elatedly. 

  And the older male would just nod fondly and hum when he deemed it necessary. 

  So just like that, they fell into a routine. 

  A unique rhythm. 

  Where Felix was allowed to prattle on for hours at the end of the way, and Minho got accustomed to de-stressing with the sound of his voice in the background. 

  Just the sound of his deep, rumbly voice after a long day, stretching on and on, seemed to do something intoxicating to Minho's brain. 

  Caused an infection to spread like wildfire. 

  And soon enough, he found it hard to fall asleep late at night if he didn't get a chance to hear how Felix's day had gone. 

  It was relaxing, to hear him chat about everything. It lulled Minho into a dream-like state, softening his harder edges and making his muscles sink into a sleepy pile of limbs. 

  That's how the two of them ended up in the dorm's kitchen late one night, with Minho calmly cooking up a shrimp pasta dish for dinner while Felix sat on a nearby barstool, talking about his day. 

  "Minji said that I should try like, a neon purple colour for our next comeback..." He trailed off, the sound of Minho chopping up an onion overtaking the lull of stillness between them. "What do you think, Hyung? I don't know if I would-"

  Minho stopped chopping then, staring up at him with a faint smile, "Lix, you look amazing in any colour. Don't stress about it, yeah?" And he watched, as the happiness brightened up Felix's entire face in the form of a huge grin. Minho's heart beat wildly against his ribcage just at the sight of it, thumping painfully loud in his ears and drowning out all other sounds.

  "Thanks, Hyung. I can always count on you to give it to me straight..." Then he kept talking, and all the while the older male continued to prepare dinner for them.

  He was used to the routine. 

  He liked the routine the two of them had. 

  Loved the habits they were forming together late into the night. 

  So then, months later, upon the sudden stark change in Felix's demeanor, it was like Minho's entire world shifted on its axis. 

  No longer would the younger boy come home and seek him out immediately. 

  Instead, Minho would oftentimes find him holed up in his room, playing video games on his computer or watching TikToks snuggled up in his bed. 

  No longer did Felix lean against the kitchen counter and tell him all about his feelings on their newest activities while Minho cooked dinner for everyone. 

  Instead, Minho would catch a glimpse of him hunched over at the kitchen table, nose buried in a book as he quickly scarfed up a plain bowl of rice and a fried egg. 

  No longer did the blue-haired man sit next to Minho on the living room couch late into the night, mindlessly commenting on the characters in the drama that they were watching together. 

  Instead, Minho would notice him curled up in the corner of the living room's armchair, laptop on the coffee table as he engrossed himself in the newest American action movie.

  And it really fucking hurt. 

  To fall out of such a routine. 

  To realize how much he relied on it all. 

  How much he relied on Felix.

  To miss it so much, that he could feel his heart squeezing painfully each second Felix spent his nights away from him. 

  Almost like, he was avoiding Minho altogether. 

  Minho would lie awake in bed late at night, just staring mindlessly up at the ceiling. His mind and heart racing in tandem as he tried to recall the moment when things had gone amiss. 

  Did he say something? 

  Did he do something wrong? 

  He knew that Felix was a sensitive soul, which was why he always treated him delicately. 

  He treated him differently than he did the other members. 

  And every night, he could never come up with a solid conclusion as to why things had gone south. 

  When finally, things came to a head. 

  It was after a painfully grueling night in the practice room that Minho came home to a dark, hushed dorm. He was exhausted - both mentally and physically. 

  All he wanted at that moment was to lay his eyes on him - to hear his voice, soothing all of his worries from the day away. Like dark chocolate melting in a warm saucepan. 

  The others were still out, finishing up their schedules for the night. And the dorm felt barren and void of all life. 

  Except, as Minho stepped out of the entryway, he noticed the single overhead light of the stovetop flicked on. There was Felix, perched atop the granite countertop, a white porcelain bowl in his hand. 

  He didn't even notice that the older male was home. He was so focused on eating his cereal that he failed to hear the sound of Minho's gym bag plopping down on the marble floor. 

  Just like that, Minho's weak heart finally came to a standstill. Breaking irrevocably. 

  The shards that he was left with stirred around inside of his chest painfully, seeming to stab his lungs as he slowly approached the kitchen. 

  It hurt to breathe. 

  Hurt to walk. 

  Even still, he managed to push through the agony of it all.  

  It was only then that Felix looked up and caught sight of him. He offered him a fleeting smile, "Oh- hi, Hyung. I didn't see you there." He said, just as he shoveled in another spoonful of cereal, swinging his legs back and forth in the air nonchalantly. 

  Minho remained silent for one beat, 

  Two beats, 

  Three beats. 

  Destroyed heart clambering in his chest, exhaustion overtaking his entire mind, shoulders slumping in defeat. 

  "Why don't you do it anymore?" 

  The words came out soft and wobbly, barely above a whisper. Minho was speaking like someone else was in the room - like the others were lingering around. 

  But it was just them. 

  With Felix sitting atop the kitchen countertop and Minho but a few steps away, at a standstill, spine completely frozen. 

  "W-What?" Felix asked, dark brows furrowing in confusion. He had no idea what Minho was talking about. 

  Of course, he wouldn't. 

  It's not like they talked about it. 

  Hell- they barely even talked at all. Hadn't in what felt like fucking months. 

  "You barely even give me the time of day anymore," Minho started, voice a little shaky as his hands trembled at his sides. He had to force his fists into balls, to stop them from quivering so badly. "Barely say ten words to me all day." He didn't want to say it. Didn't want to point out the elephant in the fucking room. But it was too obvious to avoid anymore. Too painful to brush under the rug. "What happened, Lix? What happened to all of those nights when we'd talk and have fun together?" 

  "You mean when I'd talk." 

  His words cut through Minho like a knife. The pointed edge of them icy against his flesh, tearing him up in a cruel kind of way. 

  "No, I mean-"

  Felix took in a deep sigh, before placing his bowl of cereal down on the countertop next to him. He sat back a little bit so that he could get a clear view of the crimson-haired man. He leveled the elder with a serious face, brows still furrowed and that pretty pink mouth pressed into a firm line. "I was always the one talking, Minho. You barely said two words most of the time." 

  The use of his name caused the hurt to swish in Minho's stomach, forcing him to feel miserably queasy at that moment. Because Felix never called him that. 

  "I don't know what-" He began, but was cut off by Felix holding a small hand up in the air. 

 His eyes, which were locked with Minho's, said it all. 

  He was already done with the conversation. He had said all that he wanted to. 

  There was just... nothing there anymore. 

  "It's fine, Hyung. Really. You don't have to apologize or anything. I get it." He said, voice dull and lifeless. 

  Where was the Lee Felix that Minho had grown to love? 

  Where was the bright ball of sunshine that he had matured right alongside with? 

  Where was he? 

  Because this Felix- the one with a cool gaze and a deep-set frown, was not his Felix. 

  "You really don't get it, do you?" Minho said, tone faint and wavering. He was nearing Felix then, watching as the younger halted in his place. Spine going rigid, he sat up a little straighter. 

  And then Minho was just before him, placing his arms on either side of Felix's hips, palms pressing into the chilly marbled countertop. Caging the younger man in, and staring down at him with a wildly-beating destroyed heart and a huge lump forming in his throat. 

  Felix turned his head up, catching his gaze with wide eyes. The cotton-candy pink of a flush was already traveling up the milky skin of his neck, pooling into his cheeks and casting a bright red galaxy against his freckles. Already, he was getting flustered from their proximity. 

  "Do you even realize how it is for me?" The words were slipping free from Minho's mouth in the next beat. He felt Felix's warm breath fan against his face from how close they were. "I can't fucking breathe for even a second if you're not around. I can't think, I can't speak, I can't function properly." Just as Felix's mouth was opening to cut in, Minho continued his spiel. "If I don't see you- lay my eyes on this fragile little body or this pretty little face, I fucking fall apart. If I don't hear your voice, I can't sleep all night." 

  Minho was moving after that, and before he even realized what he was doing, he was leaning further into Felix, hand coming up to his face and fingers tracing against the line of his jaw. Gently, he cupped his chin, the pad of his thumb brushing against his puffy pink bottom lip.  

  Their gazes caught just then, and Minho could sense the feelings raging just beneath the surface of Felix. And Minho thought that he also probably looked quite similar in the younger's eyes. 

  "So you can hate me and you can loathe me and you can despise me," Minho began in a breathless whisper, "But don't ever avoid me again. Otherwise, I'll suffocate and die a slow and painful death." 

  He couldn't seem to pull his hand away from the younger's face, even when it grew so hot to the touch, it felt like his palm was about to burn up in a scorch of hot flames. Even when a slight, painful squeak fled from between Felix's lips. 

  Almost like, this hurt him just as much. 

  "I never hated you," he murmured back, tone registering low. The sound of it rumbled out, cascading across the shell of Minho's ears and shooting a violent shiver down the length of his spine. "I could never- not when I fucking love you so much. And I... I was avoiding you because I was scared. Scared of what you thought of me- and my loose mouth."

  Minho kept silent, thumb continuing to press against his lip, soothing Felix as the feelings and thoughts started to spill out of him like a magical elixir trickling out of a stunning glass tincture. 

  "Someone told me about you- about your true personality, and how you're reclusive and stuff. And I- I got scared, that you hated all of our late nights together and you hated how much I talked. And then I noticed how quiet you always were and I thought that maybe it was better if I just stayed away and let you have your space after work. I didn't want to burden you anymore and-"

  "Kitten, you're never a burden to me," Minho cut in, hand finally pulling away from Felix's lips and trailing towards his hair. He pushed some of the shock-blue locks behind his delicate ear, and something tiny and fiery stirred in the pit of his stomach at the mewl that he heard Felix creak out from the nickname alone. "Just because I'm so different from you, doesn't mean I don't enjoy your company. And just because I don't talk all the time, doesn't mean I hate you for talking to me after work." 

  At that, Felix stared up at him with wide eyes and a gaping mouth. "Y-You enjoy my company?" His voice trailed off into the distance softly, his eyes fluttering closed at the way Minho's fingers raked across his scalp. 

  Slowly, he pulled at his blue roots, forcing Felix's eyes open again so that Minho could see the look in them as he finally spoke the words he had been stirring over for what felt like a fucking millennium. 

  "I adore it, Lix. I can't live without it, to be honest," he confessed, flashing the younger a meek smile. And at that moment, Felix looked so perfect. So vulnerable and adorable all at the same time. "Fuck- I need to kiss you right now. Can I? Please..." 

  Felix gaped up at him, the overhead kitchen light sparkling in his eyes like a million different constellations all at once. Like he was in complete awe of the situation at hand, and he couldn't wrap his head around the fact that everything was happening to him just then. 

  "Yes- yes, a thousand times yes." He cried desperately in that cute, small voice of his. 

  And then nothing else mattered, as Minho held onto his jaw, tilting Felix's head upwards as he connected their lips. Like they were meant to never separate, they fit each other perfectly. 

  In an instant, Felix was melting into the feel of Minho's mouth wrapped around his. His hands came up around the elder's waist, digging into the fabric of his t-shirt and drawing him ever closer. Minho's tongue dragged across his bottom lip, and soon, teeth were bumping against teeth as they tasted one another. Felix groaned, fingers clutching on tight to Minho as he teased him with his kisses right there in the middle of the kitchen.

  The kiss was ethereal and perfect and everything Minho had always dreamed of. 

  And when they broke apart to catch their breaths, a messy string of saliva connecting them, Felix stared up at him with vast eyes and flushed cheeks, and a faint smile. 

  "Has anyone ever told you how fucking beautiful you are, kitten?" Minho mused off, fingertips ghosting across his smattering of freckles.

  The cerulean-haired male giggled softly, hands bunching up the fabric of Minho's shirt and dragging him closer so that he could wrap his legs around his waist. "Yeah, but you've never done it before." 

  "Well, now I'm saying it," Minho began, lips ghosting over his nose as he kissed it. "Pretty," he continued on his path, kissing either of his rosy cheeks. "Gorgeous," his mouth trailed up to his forehead, brushing the locks of blue there aside. "Stunning." 

  Then he stopped just at Felix's mouth again, hovering, breathing warmth against his lips. 

  "W-Will you c-call me that again?" Felix suddenly blurted out quietly, the words tumbling from him at a rushed pace. The way he stuttered nervously, like a young schoolboy confessing to his crush, did something funny to Minho's heart. Brought the shattered pieces back together, in a jumbled mess. 

  Minho could already feel the smirk spreading across his face, as he pondered over the idea. "Hmm..." He tapped a finger against his chin, to seem like he was mulling it over. When in reality, he'd give the entire world for Felix if he asked for it. He'd lasso the moon down from the night sky and gift it to the younger male if he wanted it badly enough. "Only if you're a good boy for me." His eyes flicked towards Felix's, catching the way the furious bloom of crimson erupted across his face and flooded into the tips of his ears. "You think you can do that for me? Be a good boy for Hyung?" 

  His head of blue hair was already moving up and down, as he nodded furiously. Teeth peeking out in a cheeky grin, he spoke in a fleeting voice. "Yes, I can be really fucking good... but only for you, Min." 

  That automatically made Minho's heart melt, dripping like cool water in his entire chest. The love he held for the younger male coursed through his veins then, lighting up his nervous system and making him see in full colour as he tilted into Felix. 

  Mouth pressing against the pulse point of the column of his neck, Minho shuttered out in a deep whisper. "Such a pretty kitten..." His lips attached to the warm flesh there, teeth sucking faintly and leaving a light violet bruise in the wake of his attention. He continued making his way down Felix's neck, loving the way the younger's fingers automatically carded through his locks, pushing him closer to his skin. "And all mine, too." 

  Felix squirmed against him then, moaning faintly at Minho's words. They were both suggestive and true to what he honestly felt for Felix. 

  And in that moment, other, dark thoughts flashed across the forefront of his mind too. 

  Visions of his sweet angel Felix, wriggling underneath him. 

  Fragile, petite limbs tangled up in bedsheets, 

  Skin flushed that pretty pink shade that always drove Minho so wild. 

  That delicate, small mouth of his, opened up in a filthy way, as the ecstasy fell from his lips in garbled sounds. 

  Minho knew that all of his deepest, darkest fantasies would one day come true. Would one day take place in the future. 

  And all because Felix had dared to talk to him late at night after their schedules. 

Fin.

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[drabbles-mc]

Unbroken Rules

Horacio Carrillo x F!Reader

For Day 6 of @narcosfandomdiscord's July Smut Challenge: friends with benefits

Warnings: 18+, language, smut, oral (f!receiving), light angst?

Word Count: 2.9k

A/N: As per usual this is unedited and unbeta'd. It was also written on three hours of sleep. But we out here! They're, you know, they're smutting! 😂

Narcos Taglist: @garbinge @thesandbeneathmytoes @winchestershiresauce @sizzlingcloudmentality @panagiasikelia @616wilsons @hauntedforsst @mirabee @buckybarneshairpullingkink @boomclapxox @nessamc @southotheborder @supersanelyromantic @padbrookcottage @mysun-n-stars @raincoffeeandfandoms @justreblogginfics @ashlingnarcos @proceduralpassion @artemiseamoon @cositapreciosa @hausofmamadas @narcolini (If you want to be added to any of my taglists, please let me know!)

It was surprising to you in a way that maybe it shouldn’t have been that things with you and Carrillo were working as well as they had been. Out of all the men in Colombia you thought you would find yourself casually hooking up with, he certainly hadn’t been anywhere near the top of the list. He really hadn’t made your list at all.

You couldn’t even really remember how it all came up in the first place. A bunch of you had been out after a grueling week, drinking away the stress of it all. In between rounds everyone was catching up on gossip, all the little things that didn’t matter in the grand scheme of it all but were the perfect topics of conversation when the grand scheme had been so exhausting for you all. And there was no shortage of things to talk about. Messy breakups, dates gone wrong, new and not-so-secret relationships abound. Still waters run deep, after all.

At some point you’d all descended into talking about one of the officer’s friends with benefits relationship gone wrong. No one really had any sympathy for him, of course, but it fueled jokes and banter for the next five minutes of conversation. In the aftermath of that, Carrillo had made a comment under his breath about not understanding how you all managed to have time for all of that with everything else that was going on.

“Yea,” you said, just as quietly with a laugh, “I get that friends with benefits probably seems like a weird concept for someone who doesn’t seem all that interested in even having friends without benefits.”

If you hadn’t had so much liquid courage in you at that point, the look on Carrillo’s face would’ve stunned you into silence, maybe even into squaring up your tab altogether.

But as it stood, you weren’t fazed. Instead, you doubled down. “What?” There was extra safety in the fact that everyone else had diverted off into their own conversations—no one was listening to the two of you. “Am I wrong?”

“I have friends,” he said, unable to believe that he was entertaining the conversation with you, letting it be anything resembling an argument.

You arched one eyebrow. “Okay, sure. Let’s,” you took a sip of your drink, “let’s say that’s true.”

He shook his head at you. “You think that because I’m not sleeping with any of them that—”

“I didn’t say that,” you cut him off. “I didn’t even say that you don’t have friends. I’m saying that you don’t seem all that interested in having friends. Which, you know,” you shrugged, “whatever.”

He could see that there was something else on the tip of your tongue. He was logical enough to know that he should let it lie, but he was too stubborn to go on without asking. “What?”

“I just…” you shrugged, suddenly trying to pick your words carefully now that you realized the deep water you’d landed yourself in. “With everything you’ve had going on I’m just not exactly surprised that you’re not keen on people right now.”

He frowned at that. He knew exactly what you were talking about, and as much as he hated that you were bringing it up at all, he was at least thankful that you had enough grace to not blurt it out in obvious terms. If he hadn’t gone to the bar with all of you, he knew that his recent disaster of a breakup would’ve made it onto the gossip wheel. Fair was fair, after all, and it was quite the story for everyone else who was on the outside of it.

He let out a sound that was something between a hum and a grunt of acknowledgment. You were on precariously thin ice as it was but still you took another sip of your drink and forged onward, talking since he apparently wasn’t going to.

“Honestly it’d probably be good for you. It’s been a bit, right? Probably be good for you to blow off some steam if you haven’t already.” You said it so casually despite the fact that the two of you really didn’t have the type of relationship where you were usually offering unsolicited advice about anything, but especially his sex life or lack thereof. Again, if there had been any less liquor in your system, the look on Carrillo’s face would’ve had you melting into the floor.

But somewhere between that conversation and the moment you were in now, with him knocking at your door, the two of you had become friends with benefits. Maybe more benefits than friends, but still, you served a purpose for each other. He wasn’t up for anything serious after a brutal breakup, and realistically he didn’t seem like the most emotionally available man to begin with anyway. And you were too busy letting work take over your life to try and entertain a real relationship. But still, you were only human. He filled a need for you and vice versa.

There were rules to it. Things to keep it from getting messy. Part of you had to think that maybe that was a large part of the appeal for him. Structure was good—he knew how to navigate that. The two of you always met at your place—that was his rule. He never stayed over no matter how late it was—that was your rule. There were a few others you’d each put into place along the way. The big one, the unspoken one, was that if one of you started to feel any kind of off about it, you’d cut the cord on the whole arrangement. The whole purpose of it was to eliminate mess, not make more of one.

The beauty of there being limited friendship built into the actual arrangement was that when he showed up, you always knew why. It wasn’t like he ever turned up on your doorstep just for a drink and a chat.  So when you heard the knocks, you knew exactly what you were going to be in for. He wasn’t one for small talk with anyone, so it wasn’t as though you really had to entertain him very much before the two of you got into things.

There was only a matter of minutes between you unlocking your apartment door for him and the two of you peeling the clothes off of each other on the way to your bedroom. His hands moved quickly, with the same precision he showed in every other area of his life. In record time he had your blouse unbuttoned and on the floor, working the clasp of your bra with the same ease before moving to the buckle of your belt.

His lips moved hungrily against yours. Slow and steady hadn’t ever been the pace with the two of you, but you could feel a different sense of urgency this time. You wondered what happened before he decided to come over. It wouldn’t be the first time either of you took your problems out on each other. Neither of you had ever made any complaints about it.

He undid the button and zipper of your jeans, easily pushing them down past your hips, down just enough for them to pool around your ankles on the floor. Once the backs of your legs met the resistance of your mattress, his hand slid up from your hip, trailing up your stomach until it stopped in the middle of your chest. He pushed with just enough force to get you to fall back onto the bed.

You took his hand in your own, went to pull him down onto the mattress with you, but he didn’t give you the chance. Pulling his hand back, he reached up and peeled his polo off over his head, discarding it somewhere on the floor with the mess of your own clothes. You watched with bated breath as he undid the buckle of his belt with one hand, using the other to run up your calf, over your knee and onto your thigh.

It seemed like your eyes diverted for all of a second, and suddenly he was on you. Climbing up your body, all rough palms and grazing teeth. You felt his lips against your neck and you reached, threading your fingers through the short hair at the nape of his neck. The second his teeth sank into you, your grip on his hair tightened in turn. You heard the hiss he let out, and you felt the smug satisfaction start to settle in.

Then his lips were on yours again, as desperate as he’d ever been he slipped his tongue into your mouth as he ground his hips against yours. you moaned into his mouth, arching into the contact as you slid one hand down between you, wrapping it around his length. He instantly bucked into your hand, the reaction practically involuntary as he pulled his mouth off of yours.

“Fuck,” he cursed, low and quiet, one hand balled into a fist on the pillow beside your head, other hand on the side of your face. The pad of his thumb rested beneath your bottom lip, almost enough to pull at it if he hadn’t been so distracted by your grip on him, the motions you knew would piece him apart.

His hand slid down to the side of your throat, and you felt your heartrate already speeding up. But then he reached and pulled your hand away, separating the two of you. He was already flushed, breathless, and you weren’t much better considering the two of you had hardly gotten started. It wasn’t the time to ask questions, but the look in Carrillo’s eyes had you wondering if maybe you should.

He didn’t give you the chance. Any attempt you were going to make to try and check in was cast aside as he slid back down your body, lips and tongue trailing the whole way down until he hooked your legs over his shoulders and dove directly between your thighs.

It was your turn to let out a curse, a string of them really, as your thighs clamped tighter around his head, fingers weaving into his hair as his tongue worked you over. Your back arched, fingers tugging harder on his hair as he tried to lose himself in you, tried to use you to cure some sort of insatiable hunger inside of him. It was a fool’s errand that you would let him run on forever if it kept him between your legs the way he was. You had no hope in stopping the moan that came out of you when he slid his fingers into you, legs trembling around his head as he pumped them in and out of you.

“Fuck,” you practically whined. “Don’t,” you lifted your head off the bed just enough to look down at him, the sight of him nearly enough to send you over the edge all on its own, “don’t stop.”

Whatever had sent him to your door had him feeling more agreeable than usual, because he did as you said without a moment’s hesitation. Even when the coil inside of you snapped, when you were lying pliant and breathless on the bed with your legs still lazily draped over his shoulders, he didn’t stop.

It wasn’t until you gently raked your fingers through his hair and let out a soft, unsteady, “Horacio,” that he paused long enough to look up at you, to revel in the mess he’d turned you into. The thought crossed his mind as he looked at you, as he carefully brought himself back up to your face, that he was still good for something, for someone. Despite everything pointing to the contrary, he might still be the right thing for someone. Maybe even you.

You were about to say something more when he kissed you, taking away the opportunity. You didn’t fight him, hand cupping the side of his face as you tasted yourself off of his lips. His hips shifted and you could feel him, still ready, still twitching.

When he pulled his lips off of yours, he sat back, kneeling as he grabbed onto your hips and turned you over so that you were lying on your stomach. Hands still holding onto you, he pulled you back towards him, leaving you braced on your forearms as he slotted himself between your legs. Your fingers curled into a thread-tearing grip on your sheets as he pushed into you. He moved slow at first, and you could feel the way he was fighting to show some restraint. But once he heard the tiny whimpered, “Yes,” you let out under your breath, he immediately picked up his pace.

Even with the stars behind your eyes, you could already picture the finger-shaped bruises he was going to leave on your hips. You pushed back against him, spurring him on as he brought one hand up to grip your shoulder, what little nail he had biting into the soft flesh there.

The only things you could hear above the sounds of your own ragged breathing and heartbeat, was the sound of his hips connecting with you, the scattered curses he let out under his breath the closer he got to release.

You felt the stutter in his thrusts as he finished, melting against you as soon as he did. You felt his forehead rest against your back between your shoulder blades, felt each heave of his chest as he fought to try and get his breath back. His hands loosened, acting gentle against you once more as he held you to him—not that you had the desire to move away anyway.

When he finally pulled away from you, he ran his hand up and down your back again. His voice was almost even as he asked, “You’re okay?”

You let out a breathless laugh as you nodded. It took more effort than you wanted to admit just to turn yourself over so that you were lying on your back again. Once you did, you looked over at him, making eye contact before nodding again and saying, “I’m okay.”

For a beat, neither of you moved or said anything. Carrillo didn’t move to get dressed and leave, you didn’t try to ask what had him in such a state when he showed up at your apartment. For a precious two minutes, the two of you existed in a limbo where there was simply nothing else, no life outside the walls of your bedroom.

Finally, he cleared his throat, looking over at you once more. “It’s late.”

Blinking a few times, you turned and looked at the clock on your nightstand. Your eyes widened when you saw the time, not having realized just how long the two of you had been at it. “Shit,” you said as you ran your hands down your face, “it is.”

The silence that followed spoke volumes. You waited for him to get up and start getting his things the way that he usually did, maybe even toss you something to pull on quickly so that you could follow him out and lock the door behind him when he left. But he was still. The longer you looked in his eyes, the more you realized just what he was waiting for. If he wanted to talk about what happened, you’d listen. That wasn’t against the rules. Staying over was, though.

“Something you want to talk about?” you finally asked when he made no move to start the conversation himself.

He was weighing the options, the pitfalls of opening up to you, the downsides of locking himself away. That was his issue, apparently—never quite showing or giving enough. Or so he’d been told.

“I can’t stay?” Another statement turned into a question. It wasn’t what he actually wanted to talk about, but it was the best he could do. Old habits die hard.

You sighed, head dropping back against the pillow behind you. You stared up at the ceiling for a moment, wanting to choose your answer to the question carefully. There was only one right answer, but you didn’t want to say it wrong.

“I don’t know what happened today, but—”

“Nothing happened,” he said, a little harsher than he meant to.

You paused, pressing your lips together in a thin line. “Okay, fine. Nothing happened. I don’t know what didn’t happen today, Horacio, but I think you should go.”

“Why?”

You let out a tired laugh. “Because that’s…that’s what we do. That’s why this works.” You paused. “Unless you don’t think it’s working anymore. Which means we need to be having a very different conversation.”

You could practically see the walls going back up in real time, not quite as effective as they had been before. “You’re right—I should go.”

He got off the bed, gathering his clothes off the floor and dressing himself as he went. While he was busy with that you went and grabbed an old t-shirt for yourself. Neither of you said anything as you walked with him to the door. It felt different this time. It wasn’t as though the two of you were the types to kiss goodbye—you weren’t a couple after all. But there was a tension in the air now that almost made you feel like he was waiting for something to happen.

Crossing your arms over your chest, you said, “Get some safe, yea?”

He nodded. “Yea.”

You couldn’t get a read on his expression, so you asked, “I’ll see you?”

He knew what you meant despite the vague nature of your question. He gave you another nod. “Of course you will.”

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[takami-takami]

Happy Birthday.

includes— hawks. severe angst. hurt/no comfort.

warnings— very grotesque trauma reaction. emeto. blood. ptsd. i cannot stress enough to be careful and avoid this if it's triggering.

There's a bloodstain on the tip of his shoes.

With ankles dragged back by clinking, weighted chains, Hawks pulls himself through the doors of his sanitized apartment. Keigo steps out the other side.

He blinks. Keigo blinks. Hawks blinks in turn, up and a little to the left of his body.

His home looks familiar, unchanged as it always does. Hand-selected specifically for their one and only golden boy, the commission itself furnished the living room shades of steel and icy blue. It's a garnish on a dish served cold, a pop of color adorning an empty plate.

He never did like the color blue. It clashes with his eyes; but at least it isn't red.

Keigo detests the color red.

Keigo has always detested the color red.

The first is simply a hurdle, they say. A celebratory milestone for budding saviors in his line of work. The death was clean, they congratulated, handshakes abound as blurry bodies in suits pat his back, groping the flesh of his shoulders like proud fathers.

What did you make me do?

What did you make me do, what did you make me do, what did I do—

There's a bloodstain on the side of his shoes.

With a thud and a click of metal doors behind him, the boy is left alone to watch the spinning furniture through bleary, fogged eyes. Wrinkled at the corners, they blink closed and open again, nearly reptilian in motion and blooded just as cold.

His heart thumps heavily, but not swiftly.

For now, the flow of his veins keeps still, a far cry from his swimming vision. It's a dam, an artificial protective mechanism constructed by cognition factors of the brain; but numb is better than the alternative. Numb is better than the spilling rapids that threaten to splash over the edges and overflow.

He supposes it's better, that is. God knows he doesn't know anything else.

Seventeen years old— eighteen, now. Someone should invent a number for how old he feels.

There's a bloodstain on the bottom of his shoes.

They'll have to replace the linoleum tile. He'd rather scrub it clean himself; a mental note.

He clicks his headphones on to divert his attention before he remembers his hero training: associated sights and sounds can attach to memories, so he should distract a civilian as best he can to keep them grounded. This is his favorite song, and he would hate to dirty it by connecting it to an unwanted neuron or two. Frantic, he tries desperately to erase the lyrics, the title, the tune from memory. He tries to preserve its original, untouched state. The audio waves lose their clarity, muddied and corrupted and glitchy; so he taps next far too many times.

The corrective action simply smears the grime along the melody, and he yanks his headphones off for peace of mind.

All that is left to hear is thrumming white noise.

As he stands unmoving, the silence rings in his ears like the consistent drip of a leaky faucet. Eerily, liminally, buzzingly still, it rings in its silence. It is silent in its ring.

Everything is still, everything is the same and there is nothing he can do, nothing has changed but everything has changed and—

Something is sitting on the coffee table.

It's new.

A crisp, white slip of paper, signed and dated courtesy of the Hero Public Safety Commission.

A check.

The water of his blood runs cold, draining rapid off the sides as it begins to rush and overflow.

Entirely without his permission, his scraggly form doubles over and retches, fingertips smearing against the glass of the coffee table before his arms fly out like they're searching for something. Crash and clatter, the deafening sounds ring out, preselected decorations from industry-class interior designers knocked off the glass as he grips.

Hands tap once, twice on the surface, before a palm darts up to cover his gagging mouth. His eyes widen, bloodshot, dashing left and right—

Until he sees it, sitting isolated by the television set.

Still on his feet, he nearly tumbles as he crawls over to grip it with both hands, emptying his guts into the pretty, pristine, perfect, prepackaged and plastic bin.

Someone tucked a bag in it, lining around the inside to keep the object fresh and free of bacteria and clutter and dirt. It's almost rather thoughtful. The film crinkles loud as he vomits.

His knees thud against the tile of the bloody linoleum, emptying and emptying himself in garbled chokes and chunks, until the infection of the bile ceases to rise; until all that's left for him to give is the spittle of his sputtered coughs, the patter of clear tears that plop and mix into the mess below.

Hands trembling along the rim, Keigo hiccups.

All clean.

My nose stings, he thinks, sniffling as he pinches it. It feels like acid. It probably is.

Up he rises on shaky legs, wiping his face with the back of his grimy glove. Plucking the paper from its place on the table, he drops it in the bin. It laughs at him, the inked letters morphing into a cheshire sneer.

He tries to forget its sum, generating random strings of numbers in his head to confuse his neurons— three, seven, five, two.

Once the silence drapes over his shoulders like filthy, clipped wings, he almost misses the sound of retching. It's preferable to the silence; at least, he thinks it could be. God knows he doesn't know anything else.

His dispatch monitor buzzes firm against his thigh— an alarm.

Oh, that's right.

He nearly forgot to clock out.

There's a bloodstain on the inside of his shoes.

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