#Blessed Black Wings

[unholy-cvlt]

BLESSED BLACK WINGS

[rastronomicals]

4:14 AM EST December 23, 2023:

High on Fire - "Silverback" From the album Blessed Black Wings (February 1, 2005)

Last song scrobbled from iTunes at Last.fm

File under: Oakland Sludge

[stylistic-nightmare]

High on Fire - Blessed Black Wings

[blackbeautybaby]

Keep praying

[criibibi]

Synopsis: After losing so much, Spider-woman learns to just keep moving. Only for her to end up somewhere far from home. Her first agenda is figuring out where she is, and how to get back. The only problem is that she ended up somewhere fictional (to her). Playing hero with Batman was not in her bingo cards this year. Hopefully she will be able to make it back home before she catches unwanted attention.

Masterlist: Prev; Next;

Chapter 1 - Home Sick

Okay, let’s start this from the top. Once upon a time and all that shit.

You had somehow, some way, ended up stranded in another universe when you were going toe-to-toe with the Spot that (unfortunately) Mile’s apparently created (unintentionally). Got it? Good.

Now the question is how you got stranded in another universe while fighting the Spot is another shebang that you do not know, and frankly, not your top priority as of right now.

Your mission is finding a way to power your web-watch (no offense but the gizmo name sucks), and either use it to find Miguel, the spider-society, or your very own earth. You honestly weren’t choosy on which option you land, as long as you safely made it out alive and unscathed. 

Speaking of unscathed, which in fact you are not, you quietly swung across many buildings, in the shadows, making sure you were hard to spot. Your dark spider suit being perfect for night patrol is a blessing for the camouflage it provides you in this god forsaken gloomy city.

Now, to get back on track, it took you an embarrassing amount of time to process that you have basically been thrown into a world where in your universe is all but fiction. 

Have you kept up with the comics?

No, of course not. After Aunt May’s passing, you honestly gave up everything and just solely dedicated yourself into fighting crime. Well, you know some things, since Peter was also a mega comic nerd.

He would go on for hours and hours and hours about Batman and his kids (adopted and biological) and whatnot. You didn’t mind, since spending time with a talkative Peter was better than being in your own headspace. If you recall the latest one to come under Batman’s wing was someone named Duke? Well, that’s as far as you remember. 

Regardless, now you're looting someone’s clothing wire. Picking out a thick gray turtleneck and black leggings (thank god) you don them over your suit, making sure nothing was visible. Now the issue is your footwear. Maybe you can get away with it? 

Taking off the mask you were able to stuff it inside your bra (extra pocket, am I right?) while your gloves were hidden among your sleeves. Making sure nothing was out of place you pulled out the wallets of the two petty criminals, counting the money.

“Four-fifty, not bad.” Though you don’t condone your actions, you are in a precarious situation at the moment. Oh well. Tossing one of the wallets away (making sure not to touch it with your fingers), you also placed it inside your bra for safe keeping.

Maybe this would be enough for a motel? How expensive- or cheap are those in Gotham? With how often crimes occur, it shouldn’t be that expensive, right? Regardless, first things first, find a place to eat, find out the date and then a place to stay. Shouldn't be too hard.

Quietly climbing down the side of a complex building, you made sure the coast was clear before heading out. The lack of a jacket made you feel very vulnerable and exposed. Head down and hands to your sides, the cool breeze of the city causes shivers down your spine. “This fucking sucks.” you mumbled, making sure to avoid gothamites as much as possible. 

No time to gawk at your environment when you’re so out of place. You honestly just kept walking around, hearing police sirens and the occasional cop car driving by while you try to not lose your goddamn mind.

Walking around, using back streets and alleys you shiver as the cold nips at your face. It’s not that you’re sensitive to cold, it’s just that you can’t afford to get sick here. In a world where you don’t exist.

“Wait a minute…” thinking back on something, it’s true that you don’t exist here. But that doesn’t mean that a you- doesn’t exist. Maybe somehow there is a version of you or spider-woman here. A far reach but hey, just hours ago, this was all fictional to you. But something worth looking into. 

With a heavy sigh you walk inside an alley, looking up to gauge the time to see- oh, what’s that? Another clothing line! And guess what? It has more clothes to loot! Score! Don’t mind if I do! Finders keepers baby!

And you thought your spider luck was ass.

Discreetly looking around to see for any cameras that can potentially identify you only to come out flat. Perfect. Using the fire escape you parkour to snag a black oversized zip up sweater. 

This would be perfect in covering you even further (and now you have pockets for your mask) and making your figure harder to identify. Now you can start acting like a true gothamite.

With a pep in your step, you exit the alleyway.

Spotting a diner up ahead, settling yourself inside you order your drink of choice and a bagel just to have something to entertain yourself while you calm your nerves.

Sitting down next to a window, taking slow sips and bites from your meal you subtly look around (making a point of subtly ignoring the gaze of the cashier). It seems to be late afternoon, heading to night. Not good, not good at all. 

Besides finding a place to stay, you glance at your wrist, the web watch looking pretty obvious and suspicious out there in the open on your wrist. But, without it, you could perish in this foreign world. Should you pull a Hobie Brown and create a new watch from scratch? No, you don’t have the time, tools, or luxury. Thank god for the hoodie covering it up.

Right now, staying on task is essential. A job, maybe? With what credentials? Hell, you don’t even have an ID. Maybe a fake one? Who would do such a thing for a reasonable price and isn’t a criminal? Another note, you need supplies, enough to build web shooters and the cartridge. Unlike other spiders, you had the ability to shoot webs from your wrist, gross. But (with Peter’s intellect) you ended up also creating webs on your own in case yours fails. And it has- a lot both in comical and crucial times. Peter wouldn’t let you live anything down (god you miss him).

And being in a new world and everything going on, the last thing you need is a web block because of the high anxiety and stress this place is already giving you. You’d rather be safe than sorry. Now, how to get supplies? Stealing them seems easier than working for it. You just don’t have the time. How were you going to steal them, and from where? Who the fuck knows. Probably from a college science room or something.

In order to do even that, you need to find out the layout and what not of this place. So maybe the best place to start is the library? Doesn’t someone from Batman’s little possie work at the library? Can you risk that? Probably.

Fuck, this was going to be harder than it looks. No phone, basically no money (not counting the one you stole from criminals), no ID (or insurance), no place to stay, no allies, ya got nothing. Zip, zero, nada. 

You feel so lost and alone, so vulnerable. And the thoughts in your head are slowly getting louder and louder. Eating away at your insecurities and feelings. God, you’re starting to get homesick. Will you make it back? Will you find a way back home? Is anyone even looking for you?

Last thing you recall was fighting the Spot with Miles, Hobie, Gwen and Pavitr. You remember hopping onto Spot’s back while he was absorbing but then he poof and you along with him. Everything went black for you and then you landed here in this city (ungracefully might I add).

You just want to go home…even if it’s lonely without Uncle Ben, Aunt May and Peter Parker.

You really have nothing, rock bottom, baby. But then again, the only place to go is up, right? 

Sighing you finished your drink and bagel before leaving the diner, making sure to look at the clock above the exit, and aimlessly walking around. Would they let you in one of those shelters? Are those even a thing? Probably, maybe. 

Couldn’t hurt to try. Buuuuut, then again, you need the privacy, so maybe the shelter was a no go. Okay, perfect, back to square fucking zero. A cheap and possibly dangerous motel it is!

Hopefully your spider luck doesn’t fuck you over. You’re honestly thankful for not coming across any batsonas and whatnot. And you were able to get clothes so you say you’re two for two.

After looking around for some time, emphasis on some, you managed to find a motel and get yourself settled. No ID required, just cash, and you internally sobbed at the remaining funds you had left. You really will need a job or a sustainable income.

“Are underground rings still a thing? Is it a thing here?” You mumbled, discarding your stolen clothes before fiddling with your watch until its screen flashes before abruptly turning dark again. “Well now, how fucked am I?” A deep sigh resonated in the empty room. Hopefully while it turned on, Miguel would somehow by some god given miracle (or your spider luck but don’t bank on it) that he received at least a signal, no matter how microscopic it is.

You had to get home. At all costs. This place isn’t your home. It’s not like you should play by the rules. But, Ben, May, and Peter would be so disappointed in you if you break laws just to return to your home universe. And if you’re being truthful, it wouldn’t sit right with you either…

But Miles needs you. 

If this world doesn’t have a- you in it, then you aren’t needed here. So you shouldn’t waste time twiddling your thumbs. Maybe you really do need to break into a computer lab to see what’s up with your watch or scavenge for parts. Hobie built it with parts from Miguel’s earth. Meaning, you can too, with whatever scraps you can find.

You’ll prioritize your watch first, then this city. It’s unfortunate, but you really have to get back home, and you can’t let your feelings get in the way and distract you.

Maybe you should call it a night? Figure things out in the morning? A yawn takes over your thoughts. “Yea, sleep sounds really good right now.” 

These problems are for tomorrow’s you. For now, you’ll catch some Zzz’s and flesh out a detailed plan on how to get back home. 

You’re banking on hacking a computer at the library despite the risks. Shooting a web at the door to prevent any possible and/or unwanted inconveniences because let’s be honest, trust no one but yourself, especially in this bat(ha)shit crazy world, better to be safe than sorry. You need your sanity to fix or at least charge your watch in order to get back home.

“Ben, May, Peter- give me strength.” and into dreamland you go.

-

“Hey B, come look at this.” A female voice spoke out, catching the attention of the adult in the cave. “I got something to show you. I got a trace of a disruption- but it happened quickly and only once.”

“Where.” A gruff and stern voice asked.

“Around the East End.”

“I’ll let Selina know.”

“Should I get someone to look into it?”

“No, I’ll do it myself.”

With that, silence once again enveloped the Bat cave as Batman stepped out.

Prev; Next;

I'll be honest, I have no outline of where I want this story to go, this is just brainrot hour for me. Less go. A very high chance this will soon turn into somewhat of "yandere" but it's mostly just them being "possessive" honestly. Slooow burn. This was the last thing i had typed up, and I have no clue where I will drive this story, oops.

[nightingale-prompts]

Introducing Kitten- Batboy AU-DCXDP

First | Previous | Next

Every great hero needs a sidekick but every amazing cat burglar should have a kitten.

Batman was ready for another chase with Catwoman. A Gotham bigwig was hosting a gallery opening with the Amazonian pink diamond as the centerpiece.

Just as expected Catwoman couldn't resist.

"Surrender the jewel Catwoman." Batman ordered as the cat burglar held the pink crystal up in the lowlight.

"But its so pretty~ I thought it would be the perfect gift for my little kitten." She purred.

"I don't think your cats would care. They would probably prefer a can of tuna to a priceless gem." Batman responded preparing to lounge for the diamond.

"Why don't you ask her?"

A shadow jumped out of the darkness grabbed the diamond and landed on the other side of the bat.

"Oh you shouldn't have~ I love it!~" The cheery voice of the shadow said.

Batman turned to see a young girl with twitching cat ears and a long tail waving behind her. She was dressed in a black leotard with a pair of black cargo pants and a cropped leather jacket. Around her neck a jewled collar rested with a little dog tag attached with a bell. Her green eyes glowed with mischief.

"Anything for you." Catwoman smiled.

Just like that Batman's attention was split as Kitten(?) bolted. The girl was fast but stepped carefully not to trigger the sensors. When he looked back Catwoman was gone and Kitten skittered to a stop only for-

*BRRRRIINNNGGG!*

The alarm went off.

He had stepped on a sensor.

"Good game old man! Let's play again sometime!" The girl said before disappearing around a corner.

*1 week ago*

Selina had actually gotten a bit of baby fever after little Nightwing had taken a little bat under his wing. The bat sidekick had been plastered all across the city from Bloodhaven to Gotham, even Metropolis had a few of the advertisements. Batburger even has a batboy meal now. All the candids on Instagram of Batboy's antics were absolutely adorable. Selina made the picture of Batboy shielding a bunch of stay cats under his wings in the rain her screensaver. Bless everyone working together to get as many pictures as possible.

Let's not even mention the time she saw the newest little Robin being carried from across the city by Batboy as they glided.

She would be fine of course after she found an adorable black kitten. She cleaned her up and put her in the warming box for the night. She planned to quarantine her from the other cats in her room. What Selina didn't expect was for the kitten to turn into a girl.

*Present*

Danny felt it again. There was something here. It felt foreign but familiar.

The energy felt reminiscent of...Nocturne? That's not right. No, it felt like primordial energy. Something isn't right.

Someone was here. Someone like him.

[manikas-whims]

LADS men + Halloween Costumes

Now with Sylus solo banner upcoming, the possibility of getting a Halloween quad banner is nil. And i’m happy for it cuz this has saved me from making a really bad financial decision 😆

anyways here's some mulling over the LIs costume choices..

SYLUS

Option 1: Vampire

If we consider Sylus’s overall aesthetic, then Vampire is the most obvious choice for him. He can't go out in the daylight for some inexplicable reason; definitely a creature of the night. He has red eyes that glow in the dark. And even during Destiny Café interactions, he playfully sinks his teeth into your palm. No doubt he'd enjoy sinking them more into your neck 🤭

Also like imagine a 5 star Sylus Halloween card where MC begins suspecting Sylus to be a vampire. And the whole card revolves around her trying to collect evidence. Even Luke and Keiran begin to suspect Sylus thanks to MC and the 3 join forces. The card ends with Sylus playfully scolding all of them 😆 and laughing in disbelief, in that deep cadence that he has 😊

Option 2: Demon

Another obvious choice. If not a vampire, then the red eyes and dark aesthetic are also quite befitting for a Demon attire. A very charming demon who lures you into sinning by offering his black card 🤭 and ofcourse you willingly sell your soul to him.

Option 3: Bounty Hunter

You know those charming sorts of outlaws that everyone loves and roots for? Yeah, that would fit so well with Sylus. Especially the steampunk aesthetic. So yeah..a steampunk style, bounty hunter Sylus with an array of weapons strapped all over. He only works solo but will definitely make an exception for you 😌

Option 4: Crow

Unlike the other two, this option involves a big, poofy bird suit. A crow outfit to be specific. And he looks simply adorable in it 🥺 Imagine yourself trying not to laugh as you sneakily take millions of photos of him in this outfit 🤭 while he sneers at you but there's no actual anger behind his gaze.

XAVIER

Option 1: Werewolf

It may sound unusual upon first thought but this will play so well into his overall persona of the “wolf in sheep's clothing” or “wolf in bunny clothing”. He did nibble on your finger and sniffed your scent in the No Restraint card. And I'm damn sure he has a thing for biting and marking. So just imagine him putting on the wolf ears, claws and fangs, and he starts acting more sly than ever, saying he's only playing the part 😉

Option 2: Royalty

Another obvious choice. Xavier is pretty used to this cause he is royalty afterall. So assuming a position of power comes easy to him (remember Floral Blessing?). Maybe some sort of chivalrous and gallant prince because he can easily add his swordplay skills to it. Seeing him regard you as his queen will be a treat sweeter than all the candies 😌

Option 3: Lumiere

You think it's the most hilarious inside joke— Lumiere hiding in plain sight amidst the crowd of Linkon on one night where a large majority would be dressed as their legend. Their hero. Xavier absolutely hates it! And he hates the amount of people he spots in Lumiere costumes. But he'll put it on upon your insistence. Just be ready for the consequences later on cause this man is jealous of his own superhero alter-ego 😭

Option 4: Angel

Xavier with large white wings protruding from his back would be another fitting sight with his overall white/silver aesthetic. Imagine him as your guardian angel, always watching over you, protecting you and trying his best to guide you on the right path, despite his own desires for you.

Option 5: Bunny/Alien

If not the above choices, then some cute/sexy bunny costume (though we've already got our bunny butler). Or a really silly alien costume that somewhat resembles his sticker set. We know he'll look squisher than ever in those 🥺

ZAYNE

Option 1: Mad Scientist

Something similar to Dr. Faustus or Dr. Frankenstein (yeah Frankenstein was NOT the monster but the name of the guy who created the monster..in case some people still don't know 😭). Zayne’s personal goal– his obsession and drive– to keep MC alive is somewhat similar to Dr. Frankenstein’s obsession with unraveling the secrets of life and well..ultimately beating death by bringing someone to life. And Zayne's hunger for knowledge is also similar to that of Dr. Faustus’s who readily sells his soul to the devil in exchange for knowledge.

So yeah..Zayne as a mad scientist, obsessed with knowledge and the drive to keep you alive would be intense 💯/💯

Option 2: Tutor

He'll sigh, take off his glasses and pinch the bridge of his nose in annoyance, like he always does. But you'll somehow convince him to do it because he's incapable of saying no to you.

It starts as a silly costume idea but the moment you see his legs clad in those unusually tight-fitting slacks and the pointer stick in his hand, you realize you might have a tutor kink and that you wouldn't mind misbehaving cause you'd actually enjoy getting punished by him 🫣

Option 3: Snowman/Penguin

The cute option! Definitely Dr. Carter, Yvonne and his other co-workers coaxed him to put it on for the little kids visiting Akso hospital throughout the week. When you stop by for a scheduled check-up and stumble upon him, you can't help but take loads of pictures of him with the kids 😊

RAFAYEL

Option 1: Merman/Siren

Just like Xavier as Lumiere, Rafayel as a merman on halloween would be such a spectacular inside joke.

At first he'd be offended because the fake tail you bought for him would feel like an insult to the real thing. He would pout and narrow his brows but after your constant cajoling and sweet-talking he'll agree to indulge you. And it's all fun and games until you realize why all those sailors in fiction are so terrified yet turned on at the mere sight of a merman/siren. He'll entice you so easily with his velvety voice 😵‍💫

Option 2: Assassin

Don't fall for his pretty face. Rafayel can be cunning, deceptive and deadly when he wants to be. (in the main story and also as Abysswalker). As such, putting on the attire of an assassin would come easy to him. His charm is as lethal as the numerous daggers he conceals within his clothes. He’ll strike you right in the heart. Can totally imagine him doing finger guns at you 😉

Option 3: Chick

Pouty babie in an adorable chick costume with a beret and paintbrush, like his sticker pack. Imagine him struggling with the bulky costume, trying to waddle towards you in annoyance, demanding you to immediately help him take off the costume. Despite it all, he'd let you hug him and take selfies. He'll hate every minute of it but still pose properly when you take pics 😆

these are just some silly thoughts..what are your costume ideas for each LI 🤔

» MASTERLIST «

[cressidagrey]

Looked to the Sky - Chapter 20 (The End)

Summary: 

Eira Archeron was neither a Valkyrie, nor a Seer, nor the High Lady of the Night Court. She was, however, Azriel‘s mate with her own mysterious, untrained powers.

Also known as: Azriel tries to court his mate the human way.

Warnings: 

THIS IS THE LIGHTNING IN A BOTTLE SEQUEL! SO READ THAT FIRST IF YOU WANNA READ THIS ONE OTHERWISE THIS MAKES NO SENSE!

Definitely NSFW and without @k-godling this would have never happened.

(super pretty dividers by @tsunami-of-tears)

Bluebell Cottage. Finally, finally, blessed silence. 

It wasn’t that they didn’t love their family. They did. But they could be a lot and right now, Eira could really do with some….quietness. And if that involved Azriel…even better. 

Eira couldn’t help the shocked laugh as he hefted her up in his arms like she weighed nothing though, carrying her towards the front door. 

“What are you doing? I can walk!” she protested, still giggling. 

“One more human tradition,” Azriel responded with a grin. “Isn’t supposed to carry the bride over the threshold?” 

She couldn’t help but laugh, but leant back against his solid chest as he did carry her towards the blue front door. 

“You are aware that humans do it because they think the big bad faes will otherwise get them?” she asked him with another giggle. 

Azriel huffed. "Well, I'm a big, bad, scary fae male," he said, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "So I believe it to be appropriate."

He reached the door, the shadows opening and then closing it behind them.

"You aren't scary," she disagreed, softly, leaning up to brush a kiss against his jaw. He was her husband now. She was his wife. And they were finally in the privacy of their home. If it was appropriate to kiss him anywhere, then here it was.

Azriel smiled, a soft, tender look that sent a wave of affection through her chest, and he reached the living room. He moved to put her down but she kept a hold of the jacket he was.

"Let's go upstairs," she said softly, biting her lip. Her stomach was knotting with nervousness and... something else. Lust. Excitement. The knowledge of what they were going to do...Gods, she was almost shaking with it.

Eira didn't want to wait. She didn't want to sit down or do some other innocent, mundane, domestic task. She just wanted him. She wanted all of him.

She was practically shaking now, her heart thudding in her chest hard. She was sure Azriel could feel the way it was racing...the way her blood was singing for him.

Azriel looked at her, and though there were still traces of that soft, soft smile on his face, his eyes had darkened. His wings flared wide behind him.

He knew. He knew what she was thinking, what she was wanting…and the way he looked at her made it clear that it was reciprocated. Then Azriel was moving, striding across the room to the stairs, his steps hard and purposeful as he reached them. In a heartbeat, they'd moved up the stairs and into the bedroom, the door closing behind them.

"Tell me what you want, Eira," Azriel said softly as he put her down on her own two feet.

She couldn't reply at first, her words catching in her throat as she looked up into his eyes, the hazel so dark they were almost black.

"I want you," she said, her voice soft. "I want all of you. I'm...I'm your wife now. I belong with you. I want...I want everything."

He tipped her chin up, pressing a soft kiss against her lips. "Everything?" he asked her, his voice soft and velvety. "Everything, Sweetheart?"

Eira felt her legs almost shake a little at the sound of that voice, the way his breath tickled against her skin as he spoke. She felt almost light-headed, the heat of his body and the scent of his skin and the sound of his voice all combined into an almost dizzying combination that left her blood practically on fire.

And...gods...he hadn't even touched her yet.

But first... "I got you something," she blurted out.

Azriel pulled back at that, his eyes wide and the look in his eyes almost comically confused.

"You did?" he said, his voice full of bewilderment as he stood there, his hands still resting gently around her waist.

"Yes, I..." she trailed off, her eyes moving to the shadows, giving them a nod, only for them to appear with that brown paper bag moments later. "I hope it's...right," she warned him. "I needed to ask both Cassian and your mother for help," Eira explained as she broke off a piece of that particular Illyrian Candy that involved nuts and honey, and held it out for him. Peanut Honey Toffee. 

Azriel looked down at the piece of candy, then back up at her, his expression a mixture of utter confusion...and deep, overwhelming endearment.

"You...got this for me?" he asked softly, staring at the piece of candy with wide eyes.

"I made it for you. Your mother gave me the recipe when I had Cassian send her a letter," Eira said quickly. "I thought I was supposed to make food for my mate. I hope this also counts," she asked, her voice trembling, as she lifted that piece to his mouth.

Azriel's expression softened even more, all but melting...as he opened his mouth, and let her feed him the piece of candy. Which she did, gently placing it against his lips before he slowly, gently took it into his mouth. His eyes widened at the taste, and a quiet, almost guttural growl escaped his throat.

She felt it. The moment he swallowed...that bond between the two of them blew wide open. And she could feel him. Could feel his elation and adoration, his love for her, his nervousness, his want...His pupils were blown wide and she could only stare at him, her knees trembling, as it felt like pure heat shot straight to her core.

The effect seemed mutual, judging by the way Azriel reached out, almost roughly pulling her against him, his arms going around her.

His lips crashed against hers, harsh and needy and absolutely devouring her mouth, and gods she couldn't even think, her knees buckling, her mind spinning, as she tried to kiss him back, clinging to him as if he was the only thing keeping her tethered to the earth.

"Please tell me I can get you out of this dress," he requested, his voice hoarse. "Please, Eira."

She could only nod, the words failing her as she clutched at him, her eyes going wide and dark and a whimper leaving her lips.

"Yes," she gasped, her skin practically burning, almost overwhelmed with just how much she wanted him right now. "Yes, please," she pleaded.

Later she wondered where he got that patience from. Later she wondered how exactly, he managed to open the two dozen tiny pearl buttons down her spine, without destroying even a stitch of her dress. How he managed not to shred it right then and there, because she wanted him so much and even just holding still, while he pressed kiss after kiss to her neck was enough to make her tremble, her hands clenching into fists.

Later she would have plenty of time to marvel at just how patient and attentive her mate was. How despite the heat and lust and need between the two of them that burned like fire, he was still being slow and careful, despite the obvious signs that his self-control was wearing thin.

But in the moment? She couldn’t even focus on anything. She was just too aware of how hard he was breathing against her neck, the way his kisses started feeling like burns against her skin…

"Bed," he said, his voice rough and low and she shivered.

There were no words. No more words left in her, as her heart thundered in her chest. The bond between the two of them was a living thing right now, a tangible thing, as she could feel his need and want. And she was certain he could feel her own.

So rather than speak she just nodded, clutching at his arms as he lifted her up, and carried her over to the edge of the bed.

He was so gentle, so careful, as he placed her back down. Her dress was a mess, a tangle of fabric pooling around her, the bodice open and the skirt ruffled.

But all she cared about was the way he looked at her, her mate, her husband, her everything, looking down at her like she was the most precious thing he’d ever seen.

He pulled down her dress, near reverently, picking it up and placing it carefully on a chair across from the room, leaving her in scraps of white silk and lace that she had thought would be…

She had thought they would be seductive. Or maybe she had hoped it…hoped that it would…that Azriel would like them. But all they made her feel like was...vulnerable. Exposed. 

However as he crossed back to the bed, there was a sharp shiver of want through her. 

He stopped in front of her, his eyes roaming over her as if he was studying every inch, studying every part of her, his eyes darkened. Maybe he did like the lace… And then his hands were on her knees, gently pulling them apart, until she was exposed to him, sitting there on the bed, wearing nothing more than scraps of lace.

She felt weak. Vulnerable. Aroused…and her mate was looking down at her like he was starving.

His eyes were almost wild as he looked at her, his body taut, his wings flared out as he inhaled deep, a low, guttural, rasping sound coming from his throat.

“You’re so damn beautiful,” he managed to say, his voice rough and hoarse. “I didn’t even know it was possible for someone to be this beautiful…”

She couldn’t answer, could only swallow…but she did fist her hands into the fine fabric of the jacket he wore and pulled him down to cover her with his body... Just to feel his weight, the warmth of him. 

To breathe in the scent of cedars and winter…and somehow that calmed that bond throbbing with need and want and desire. Somehow that made it possible to just look at him, to card her fingers through his midnight dark curls, to take in every inch of his face, these beautiful eyes, pupils blown wide, the green just a thin ring…to cup his cheek and press a kiss against his lips, feeling the warmth of his mouth on hers…

She let her own hands roam, one of them pulling loose the buttons of his shirt, the other exploring the broad expanse of his chest, her fingers tracing over the smooth, muscular skin.

His breath was coming in hard, ragged pants as she moved, and she could feel the effect this was having on him, the bond between the two of them practically throbbing...And then he was pulling back, his eyes looking up at her, almost delirious with lust, and gods, that look, that dark, hungry look on his face…

"Pull off that jacket or I'll rip it," she managed to bring out weakly, making him laugh as he sat back on his haunches, pulling off the jacket and the shirt he wore hurriedly.

His wings twitched behind him, spanning wide, and it was all she could see.

Her eyes traced over every line, every muscle...gods, the sight of him, shirtless and sitting between her legs, was almost overwhelming. She could only look at him, her eyes roaming over his chest, the smooth, muscular lines of his stomach, down to the waist of his trousers. His skin was gorgeously tan against the moonlight, the intricate tattoos marking his chest and arms like a work of art…he was perfect.

Her hands came up, almost involuntarily, tracing over those tattoos, the hard, firm planes of his body…she wanted more. More skin. All of him.

He let her, sitting still, as she ran her hands over his shoulders, down to his biceps, tracing over the tattoos along his arm and back up his chest…Azriel was breathing hard now, his eyes watching her every move, almost panting at her touch…

He wanted her. Wanted her more than anything. But her mate was being careful. Even now, as she could sense that last, thin thread of self-control…he was holding himself back.

Being so careful not to scare her… Her hand traced his jaw, her thumb coming up to caress his cheek…and there was a shiver of need, a tug against that bond between the two of them, as he closed his eyes, leaning into her touch…

"I want to touch you," he whispered. "Please, can I..."

She could hear the need in his voice, the plea, and it sent a wave of heat through her body.

"Anything," she breathed, her own voice almost breaking. “Anything you want, anything you need…I’m yours, I’m yours…”

He bore down on her, fingers slipping off these scraps of lace, a wave of self-consciousness overcoming her...but then he kissed her, and Eira forgot it all. Forgot everything but these broad, gentle hands on her skin, exploring her body...forgot everything but her mouth against her skin as he stared at her neck and pressed kisses to every single inch of her skin.

It was devastating. To feel his hands on her body, his mouth against her skin, leaving not an inch of her body untouched, as he explored her, worshipping her, caressing her, as if she was the most beautiful and precious thing he’d ever seen.

He was murmuring things against her skin, words of praise, words of adoration and love, that left her breathless and shaking and melting beneath his touch…

Azriel sucked one breast into his mouth and she moaned, her body arching and shaking, his thumb pressing over her other breasts...and then suddenly he hesitated. Her eyes opened and she watched as he stared at her body, as his thumb, hesitantly, reverently passed over the thin silvery scar underneath her left breast. 

Her eyes widened, a shiver of self-consciousness, of shame, going through her body as she looked down at the scar… Some part of her expected him to look at it with repulsion. Or pity, perhaps. But when her eyes met his his own, his expression was…worshipping. His thumb gently passed over that thin silvery gash. The sight, and feel and touch of it almost left her breathless.

He wasn’t looking at this thin silver scar with pity, or repulsion…he looked at it like he did the rest of her. Like something beautiful, and precious…and his.

And then he pressed his lips to it…near reverently. 

His kisses moved lower, down over her stomach...he was taking his time with her, exploring every part of her, as if wanting to commit every part of her to memory. And the more of her he touched...the more of her he tasted, the more her skin became almost feverish…

"Azriel," she gasped. "Please... please..."

"Shhhh," he shushed her. "You don't need to beg, Sweetheart. What do you want?" She shivered when he called her that...gods...he could make her melt with one single word...

"I need you," she gasped out, staring at him through half-lidded eyes. "I need you...need to feel you...I-"

Her hands reached out for him, trying to pull him down, trying to get him closer...

"Do you want to come, sweetheart?" Azriel asked her softly, pressing a kiss against her stomach and she whimpered. "So that you are getting wet and ready for me?"

She whimpered, the touch and the heat from his mouth and the sound of that voice and those words...

Her body was shaking, practically thrumming with tension after all that had taken place...and at the sound of that question, her back arched, a low, trembling yes leaving her throat…

"If you tell me to stop I will," Azriel said softly. "But give yourself a few minutes to get used to it, alright?"

She wasn't even sure to what exactly she had just agreed...only that his head was suddenly right between her legs, his hands gently holding her thighs open as she looked down at him, all dark, messy curls and hazel eyes, blown dark and wild with desire. He looked like he was going to devour her. 

And then he was kissing her. Right there, and a strangled gasp tore itself from her throat. "Az-Az riel..." she pleaded, her voice breaking...

She was shaking already, a tremble, a deep, uncontrollable trembling, shuddering through the entire length of her body. His hands were on her thighs, her hips, keeping her legs pinned open, even as his mouth worked magic against her skin…

And all she could do was clutch desperately at the sheets, gasp out broken pleas and half-words, her body wracked with need and desire...

He was devouring her. Suddenly she understood.

As his tongue teased at her in devastating, expert motions, as his lips and teeth and hands worked magic...his worshipful, reverent touches and kisses and licks reduced her to a trembling, panting, squirming mess…

He was devouring her. 

She was shaking, her body quivering, arching, writhing against his mouth, but his grip on her hips kept her pinned to the bed, his hands holding her thighs open even as she gasped and moaned and pleaded...

His head was between her legs, her trembling hands tangling into his hair, trying to hold on, but all she could do was shudder and shake as she came apart. 

"Good, sweetheart," Azriel praised her softly, pressing kisses against her thighs as she still shook through it. "That's perfect. You are getting so wet for me." She whimpered, her cheeks reddening at his words. Her cheeks were burning, her body shuddering as she looked up at him with wide eyes...still trying to catch her breath, while he was smiling at her...and the sight of him, his face and mouth still wet...

"Azriel...I-" she gasped out, her voice trembling, only to break as she let out a little, shuddering mewl…

He climbed back up over her, settling himself between her legs once again, his body pressed against hers, and like this, she could feel that he was hard. The length of him pressed against her stomach, making her breath all the more faster, making her want.

"Please," she managed to gasp out desperately, beggingly, and he groaned at the sound of it, dropping his head to nip at her neck.

"Please, Azriel..." she pleaded, her fingers tangling in his hair… Gods, he was surrounding her everywhere, pinning her to the bed like this, and his skin...his skin was so hot, practically on fire against hers, and she could feel him shaking, every muscle in his body taut…

One broad hand stroked down her body and she whimpered at his touch, as it slipped between her legs, circling that pearl at the apex of her thighs, and then one thick finger sank into her.

Her own had felt…big inside her. But that was nothing against how Azriel’s finger felt inside her…

As he circled and stroked inside her, her body wracking itself with a shuddering tremble, her back arching as her hips moved of their own accord, trying to get as close as possible, trying to move

"Perfect, sweetheart," he praised her, a kiss pressed against her temple.

"I... please, I-" she begged breathlessly, her hips arching and shaking as he moved that finger in and out, slowly, so damn slow she wanted to scream...but all words escaped her...all she could do was moan, a low, whimpering sound, as her body writhed and squirmed, arching against his touch...she was lost to it, to the feel of his hands, to the feel of him...

"Please..." she managed to pant out again, not even sure what she was asking, the only coherent thought going through her head being need and more…

“Another?” he asked her softly.

Another...she was struggling to even think straight at the moment. All her coherent thoughts were concentrated on that wicked finger moving inside of her...Her eyes met his, wide and a bit unfocused, but with just enough of her mind left for her to nod, albeit breathlessly. 

His second finger was almost as devastating as the first. Her breath came out in little pants now, her hands clutching desperately at his shoulders, and she could suddenly feel how close she was to the edge, her body shaking and trembling, as he moved his mouth to the base of her neck and bit.  

Her body arched at the feel of his mouth, at the feel of teeth on her neck as he bit and sucked at her skin, surely marking her, sure enough, to leave bruises on her skin...that, and the sight of him above her, the feel of his fingers, moving inside of her...

"Azriel..." she gasped his name, the plea clear in her voice, her body writhing and shaking against his hold…

This time, she was desperate, she was a trembling, writhing mess of pleading moans and pants, as her body felt like it was practically vibrating, as she was right on the edge...and then his thumb came to rub that sensitive bundle of nerves right there…

Eira keened, arching off the bed,  her hands fisting into the sheets, her body shaking and tensing, so taut it felt like she was about to snap, as she gasped and panted, her mind going blank as that pleasure, that heat built within her...it was terrifying, like being on the edge of an abyss...

And then she snapped. A sharp, strangled cry tore itself from her throat as her body went absolutely tense for a second...and then relaxed as wave after wave of pleasure swept over her, wracking her body as she gasped and shook and shuddered into that release.

She was dimly aware of his hands coming up and stroking down her sides, his lips against her neck as he praised her, calling her perfect, and sweetheart, and good, as she trembled on the edge of those overwhelming waves...

And she was melting, at the sound of his voice, at the praise, at the touch of his hands and his mouth...

But gods, she was also so, so sensitive, her body feeling like it was on fire like it was over-stimulated...she let out a little whimper, her hands clenching against his skin...

"More," she requested, tipping up her chin so that she could kiss him.

It was a greedy, desperate kiss, all hot and open, and his body was still pressed against hers, and she could feel the heat and hardness of him, burning between them...gods...

He groaned into the kiss at the feel of her, of her lips and tongue, the sound a low, guttural sound, almost bordering on animalistic...

"Are you sure?" he asked her softly, and she swallowed but nodded.

The feel of him, his body pressed so close against hers, so hot and hard against her...he was asking, but she knew he was hurting, she could feel how much he wanted this, needed this as well...

"Please," she whispered, "please, I...I want this...I want you..."

"Shh, sweetheart," he shushed her, pulling back and she leant up on her shaking elbows to watch him divest himself of his trousers. 

She could only stare.

That drawing of male anatomy had… definitely not…prepared her for Azriel. 

She could just swallow when she took in the sheer size of him. 

Her mouth was suddenly feeling dry in a mixture of desire and terror. Her stomach turned into a tight, nervous knot. 

"That's...That's not going to fit inside me," Eira squeaked. That was not…that was not…

"It will," Azriel promised with a soft laugh. “Just relax, Sweetheart. We’ll make it fit,” he promised her, pressing a kiss against her unresisting lips. 

No, that wasn’t…This wasn't two fingers like she had maybe thought. This was…

“You…you are huge,” she blurted out. 

"What every male wants to hear, sweetheart," he said with some amusement, pressing a kiss against her lips. "But I am only slightly above average."

Somehow she didn't believe that. At all.

And then suddenly something else made sense. "Is that what everybody means when they say you have the biggest wingspan?" she asked him weakly, making him laugh.

"I do have the biggest wingspan," he chuckled.

Eira collapsed back into the mattress, making Azriel chuckle as he pressed a kiss against her lips. 

“I promise you, it will fit,” he whispered against her lips. “You were made for me, Sweetheart.”

And somehow…somehow that…she was made for him. She was his mate. 

“We can try,” she said, biting her lip. “But if it…if it hurts…”

“If it hurts, we’ll stop,” Azriel crooned softly, his body moving over hers, covering her, as he leaned down to kiss her lips. "I promise you, it will fit," he murmured, his hands running along her body. "Just relax, Sweetheart. We'll make it fit."

She whimpered as she felt him notch his cock against her, her folds drenched and overheated and a full-body shiver went through her.

"Don't worry," Azriel murmured against her neck. "I am going to be very careful. Just relax, sweetheart, it's going to feel so good."

Eira swallowed, she was trembling under him, her hands clenching against his shoulders. 

She trusted him. She trusted him not to hurt her. To make this good...

And so Eira willed her body to relax, too intense under him, and his hands were stroking gently over her body, his mouth trailing kisses and sucking marks down her neck, his tongue and his teeth leaving a trail of sparks running throughout her body...

She was starting to settle, her head leaning back, her breath coming in shallow pants as desire replaced her previous fear...

"Just relax, sweetheart. That’s all you need to do," he reminded her softly, his voice a little strained, and she nodded.

She tried, she tried to relax, she breathed, but gods, he was so close and so hot...she wanted, she wanted it, but she was still terrified at the same time...

He shifted his weight just slightly and she gasped as she could feel him press against her entrance.

“Please, talk to me,” she panted out, just needed to know that he was right there…

“You just relax, Sweetheart,” Azriel whispered her softly. “Just relax…I am not going to do anything…Just get used to the pressure and weight…”

"Please," she panted out, not even sure what she was asking for, only knowing she wanted more, needing him to move and do something, because this, this pressure and heat and wait was driving her insane… "Please, please..."

He rocked inside her, just a little bit and she gasped.

She gasped, loud, her hands coming up to clutch at his shoulders,

"Shhh," he whispered against her neck, kissing her skin, as he began to move, slowly, so slowly rocking into her, as he kept whispering against her skin...

"You're doing so good, sweetheart," he murmured, "You are so good..."

He felt so big inside her, stretching her so wide, and she whimpered in a sharp, stinging pain as he slid deeper inside her.

His body seemed to react on instinct, stopping, as he raised his head to look at her, his hands coming up to cup her face. "Are you alright, sweetheart?" he asked, his voice, that beautiful, deep voice, full of concern, and she knew, instantly, that he would stop if she wanted him to.

But she wanted this. Wanted to be closer to him, to be his, more than anything else. She shook her head, clinging to him, digging her hands into his strong, perfect arms.

"Don't stop," she pleaded. "Please, don't stop."

“More?” he asked her softly and she managed a nod. 

He groaned against her neck, her head arching at the sound of it, and he started moving again, slowly, still so, so slowly, rocking into her. This time, the pain was less, replaced by that all-consuming pleasure. Every time he pushed himself into her, a deep, aching pleasure, something she couldn't have imagined before his body pressed against her. 

His body had found a rhythm, a steady pace, an almost torturous back and forth, and she found herself moving again, meeting him, arching against him, needing her body to press against his, to get as close as possible to him.

More and more of him inside her and every time she thought she had taken all of him...more slid inside her, and her body yielded, making space for him somehow.

He panted her name against her neck, and she could feel it as his muscles trembled, as if desperately trying to hold on to that last, fragile thread of self-control...he was holding back, for her, trying to make this as good as possible...

It was so good. How could it be anything else, with the way he was surrounding her, his body, hot and flushed against hers, the way she could hear his low, panting gasps, the way he was whispering her name, over and over, again and again...

She could feel that familiar heat, rising within her, like a wave in the ocean, every time he pushed inside of her, filling her. Every move, every shift of his body, driving her closer and closer to the edge, driving the heat to that point where it trembled on the edge, just like she was...gods...he was moving faster, now, faster, with a steady, almost driving pace, as he kissed against her neck, her shoulder, his hands running up her body to her hair, and...

"Please," she gasped out, her words coming out in little pants, begging, "Please, I need, I need..."

"I know, I know," he groaned against her neck, his hands coming up and tangling in her hair, his pace never faltering, "I know, sweetheart, I got you."

And he did.

It was like an explosion going off inside of her. Wave after wave of pleasure, of white, hot, pleasure wracking her body with a shuddered shock, as she clenched around him, her body convulsing as she arched, writhing against his body, crying out his name. 

His body tensed above her, and his hands clenched into the sheets, his breath coming out in a low, guttural groan, as he shuddered, and she could feel him pulsing inside her. 

He was panting against her neck, his breath as uneven and ragged as hers, his heart racing against her chest. And, even though she was still trembling, still trying to recover herself from the overwhelming pleasure, just feeling him there, on top of her, with his body flush against hers, was...perfect. 

He raised his head, pressing a kiss against her lips, a slow, gentle movement, and it sent a shiver through her, as she raised one trembling hand to cup his face. Gods, he was perfect, so perfect in this moment.

"Are you alright?" he asked her, his voice a low, hoarse hoarse rumble. Her eyes opened at that, and she was hit with a sudden wave of warmth in her stomach. 

"I'm perfect," she whispered back to him, a slow, blissful smile spreading on her face. And she meant it, the smile widening as his face brightened. 

He smiled at her response, a beautiful, beautiful smile, before he shifted, rolling them over until she was lying sprawled on top of him. He settled with a sigh, burying a hand in her hair and she snuggled into his chest, feeling perfectly safe like this. 

Surrounded by her mate. 

***

Azriel had never in his life thought that the Mating Frenzy would feel like that.

It was like a wildfire, burning inside of him, driving him mad, as it urged him to hold onto her, keep her close, claim her again, and again, and again...

And he did. Again and again and again. He waited for it to abate, but nothing of that sort happened. He waited for himself to do something, to reach some unspoken limit that would make Eira withdraw or flinch away or tell him no.

But there was nothing.

It was like she was made for him like she could take everything he gave her, everything his body, his instincts, demanded from her, and she just met it with that look in her eyes, that look of sweet pleasure.

Just relaxed underneath him with all the trust in the world, her eyes closing, her body growing lax.

Gods, she let him do whatever he wanted, and her moans, her gasps, her whimpers, they drove him mad, drove him to do more, more, more, as he could never get enough of her...

She was pliant and soft, her body arching and yielding to his touch, so perfect, so sweet, every touch sending another wave of heat through him, like it was just stoking the fire further, making him want her even more…

He was quite sure the only reason that they didn't starve or had a serious case of dehydration, was the shadows that plied them with food and drinks whenever they took some sort of break.

Which they only did rarely, because all of his attention was on her, on her sweet mouth, those beautiful eyes, her delicate body, all of it that he could touch, taste whenever he wanted...

It was endless, all-consuming, the way he claimed her, the way his body demanded her, again and again, until she was panting his name, whispering pleas and promises against his skin...

And even in that, in that mindless, endless desire, the way he wanted her, he was conscious, always conscious of the way she felt, the way her body responded to his, the way she trusted him and gods, he wanted to soak in that trust, drown in it.

His body demanded, needed more, more of her, more of her body, her sweet moans, the way she shivered and arched against him. 

He lost track of time, of what day it even was, his mind consumed by the desperate need to touch her, taste her, bury himself inside of her, again and again...

Over and over, the days passing with their bodies tangled together, his name a chant, a plea against her lips, her body a sweet, sweet haven for him, a paradise, that he could simply lose himself in...

Gods, he would never be able to have enough of her, of feeling her, of the way she trembled, and gasped, and moaned, the way her skin flushed, the way her body clenched around him...

He wasn't even sure how long it had been...longer than a week, because the last time Rhys had tried to check in on him, he had forced him out of his mind, too busy between Eira's thighs...Rhys had pulled back like Azriel had burned him and hadn't appeared again.

Not that he even noticed, too occupied with the heat of her body, the softness of her skin, the feel of her around him, every inch of her body like the most delicious food, that he could simply not get enough of…

He woke up, curled around her back, one wing stretched over her.

Eira was still asleep, hair mussed...he had managed to pull the flowers and hair combs out of her sometime during the days that followed their wedding...had even managed to take a bath with his mate, which had then ended up with him taking her from behind, her body draped against the cool marble of their bathroom...

She looked so peaceful, sleeping there, her body boneless with exhaustion, her skin marked with love bites and bruised he had sucked into her skin much to her delight. The sight of her like that, with the evidence of his mark clearly visible on her…

He groaned, his body already reacting to the sight of her, to her smell, as he wrapped his hand around her hip and pulled her closer, shifting her body until her back was flush against him, his front pressed against her perfect, soft back.

Gods, she was so warm, even through the blankets, and he couldn't resist burying his face into the crook of her neck, inhaling her sweet, sweet smell. Snowdrops and almonds and ice and...he buried his nose tighter against her pulse point, inhaling again, a soft hum coming from her.

Cedar and Winter, his own scent...but that wasn't...He breathed in again.

He could smell...something soft and sweet, like a bud just opening...Eira's scent changed. Already.

Changing into something richer, something...fertile. 

Changing with the scent of a new life having taken root in her womb.

He paused, his hands going still, as that realization hit him. Gods...he could already smell it on her, the change in her scent, the change...proof that she was...pregnant...

"Azriel?" his hand snapped up and he stared at his mate, at his wife, at the mother of his child, her eyes blinking open, eyes still drowsy with sleep.

Gods, she looked so sweet as she looked up at him, and it was like all the air just vanished from his lungs… His hand trembled slightly as he raised it and touched her face, her soft skin against his fingers, his mind still trying to comprehend the idea that she...that they were...

"Are you doing alright?" he asked, his voice sounding a bit raspy, and her eyes softened, her lips pulling up into a slow, sleepy smile.

"Mhmm," she hummed out, her eyes fluttering shut for a moment, as she snuggled tighter into his chest. "Just sleepy," she answered, her voice sleepy, but content, as she burrowed closer to him. "Warm..."

He buried his nose back into the crook of her neck, breathing in her scent like a starving male, his hands sliding down underneath the blankets until he could touch…

He ran his hands over her body, gently, just feeling her, just touching her skin, feeling his palms slide over her hip, down her curves, down to her stomach...right where the scent was coming from, thick and powerful, the scent of a baby, their baby, taking root within her womb...

It was like that thought, that knowledge was making his mind short-circuit, like he could barely even think, let alone process it...he just...wanted to touch and hold her, to keep her safe.

"You're changing..." the words came out against her skin, mumbled like a prayer, the realization driving him mad. She was pregnant, she was creating life within her womb...

"Hmmm?" she hummed out, her eyes still closed, a small smile on her face, so blissfully ignorant of what that scent meant. "What do you mean?" she asked, and his heart ached at the adorable confusion in her voice.

"I can smell it," he said back, his lips still against her skin, still breathing in her scent. "The change in your scent..."

Those beautiful, beautiful, grey eyes of hers blinked open slowly, a bit more alert now, though still confused. "Change in my scent...?" she repeated, her eyebrows furrowing in confusion for a moment. "I smell different?"

"You smell fertile..." he said, his hands still on her stomach, running in slow, almost reverent caresses over her skin. "The scent's changed...already...proof that...that you're...pregnant..."

Those sweet, grey eyes of hers widened at his words, and his heart ached for a moment, as a flicker of disbelief passed through her expression. He waited, barely able to breathe, for her response.

Her eyes darted up to his for a moment, searching his expression. "...are you sure...?" she asked back in a whisper, her body tense for a moment, but her voice hopeful.

"I'm sure," he answered, his hands rubbing over her stomach once more. "The change...it only happens...in pregnant females...you're...you're carrying our baby, Sweetheart..."

That was it, the moment, the moment when he saw that realisation, that knowledge settle onto her, the moment he saw acceptance and hope and joy all flicker through her expression, before...before the tears started welling up in her eyes...

"We…we made a baby?" The words came out as a soft whisper, so hopeful, so sweet, that it was like a dagger to his heart. 

Azriel's breath hitched in his throat, and his hands tightened their hold on her body, as he nodded in response. "Yes...we made a baby," he answered, his voice as soft as hers.

And then it was like the dams had broken, tears starting to pour from her eyes, as she let out a choked, broken sound, her body shaking against his. 

She wasn’t upset, wasn’t sad, didn’t regret the baby they had made…he could feel a wave of almost relief wash over him from their bond, and then, a fledgling, sweet feeling of happiness. 

Azriel gently pulled her closer, until he was cradling her in his arms… "Shhh...shh...it's alright," he soothed her, whispering against the top of Eira’s head, as he tried to bring her back from her tears. "It's alright...don't cry, sweetheart...shh..."

But she was just crying harder, now full-on sobbing in his arms, her hands coming up to grip onto his shirt, her face buried against his chest… He held her like that, tight against him, his nose buried in her hair, as he let her cry it out, whispering soft, hushed assurances against her hair, trying to soothe her and himself at the same time.

"We...we made a baby?" she repeated, her voice coming out in hiccoughs against his chest, and he felt a pang of pain at the sound of it, at the hope, joy, and disbelief, he could hear in that soft, broken voice...

"Yes, sweetheart," he said, his voice a soft comfort in her ear, "yes, yes we did...we made a baby...you, you're pregnant, we're having a baby..."

And her sobs changed, that word, that truth, like a soothing balm over a wound, as she kept repeating it, through her tears and hiccoughs, like she was trying to make herself believe it...

"I am pregnant...we're having a baby..." she whispered out, over and over, and gods, it was the sweetest sound in the world, her voice, the words out of her mouth, and he could feel his own tears starting to burn in his eyes, at the sheer, raw joy of those two facts...

He just held her there, cradling her tight in his arms, stroking her back, and her hair, whispering more soothing, loving words to her, as she cried, as she repeated it over and yet again...

Eventually, the tears dried, her sobs subsided, her body tired and boneless against his chest. "Are you alright, sweetheart?" he whispered against the top of her head, as he held her against his chest, stroking her hair with gentle, soothing caresses.

"I'm..." she muttered out, her voice still a bit raw. "I'm just happy." she lifted her head up with a smile, her grey eyes a bit swollen, a few tear tracks still visible on her face, but her eyes so full of joy and life, as she stared up at him with a shaky smile, her hand coming to rest on the side of his face. "I'm so, so happy, Azriel..."

He felt his heart clench in his chest at the sound of her voice, at the absolute, pure joy in her tone, as he nodded, a few tears of his own slipping from his eyes now. "I'm happy, too," he said, his voice low and rough, as he bent his head and gently pressed a kiss to her forehead. "I'm so, so happy, sweetheart..."

Babies? the shadows whispered, suddenly appearing behind him.

Azriellaughed as he looked behind him, staring into the shadows. "Yes, babies," he said quietly, gently pulling his mate even closer, as he stroked her cheek with his hand. "We're having a baby..."

The shadows wriggled like they were dancing on the spot with sheer, pure excitement, coming to wriggle all over Eira, pressing against her naked skin.

"Hey," he snapped at them, gently batting them away from his mate. "Careful," he hissed, his hands carefully pushing the shadows away from the soft skin of Eira's stomach.

"It's fine," Eira protested, a hint of a smile on her face, as she looked down at the shadows. The shadows writhed around her hand, wrapping itself happily around her finger before pressing against her stomach once more. "They just....want to be close to their new friend," she said, her voice soft, her gaze warm as she looked down at the shadows.

Azriel groaned, his annoyance fading away at her words, as he looked down at the shadows, at the way they were wriggling happily against her skin, his mind picturing the image of them happily playing with the baby, once it was born...

"Just be gentle," he told them firmly, his eyes fixing back onto the shadows, the way they were wriggling around her, clearly delighted at the revelation that her womb, that her body, was making a new life within her…

They writhed, the shadows all coming together to form one large, singular one, which reached out, and very gently, barely touching against her stomach. Eira reached out as well, her fingers gently wrapping around a part of the shadow, which pressed against her hand, as if in greeting.

Azriel let out a soft breath, as the sight of that interaction sent his heart into a spin. The shadows were...happy. Delighted. They liked her. Hell, they loved her. He had never seen them interact with anyone like...like they were interacting with Eira...

And the way she was gently stroking the shadows...it was clear his mate loved them just as much as they loved her. That...that was probably the last thing he could have foreseen and yet, the sight of it...it made his heart sing within his chest.

Notes:

It's always bittersweet to come to the end of a story. I did really enjoy the last three weeks though and appreciated ever comment and ever like or kudos, every favourite and every bookmark.

While Looked to the Sky has now ended, The Prophecy is as always, ongoing. So every thought, prompt, comment, throw them my way! I'll add them to my horde of plot bunnies

[hipstergecko]

Waking Up.

Hey so remember that DPxDC prompt I wrote awhile back? I've been writing it! Here's a brand new chunk.

Ghost in a Box: Danny experiences extreme sensory deprivation after getting trapped in a coffin like box his parents invented. His box is opened on the JL watchtower after being found in an underground bunker. Humans can't do sensory deprivation for too long. Apparently neither can Danny.

Original Ghost in a Box prompt here.

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Black bat was waiting. She was quite good at waiting. Sometimes on a mission you had to be patient. Still and silent. Waiting.

The boy that had come out of the box had been in the intensive care unit for days. He had been dehydrated and was terribly emaciated. He had been starving. How long had he been in the box?

They couldn’t ask him until he woke up. So she had been waiting.

Cass sighed and walked silently down the hall to the ICU. After they had gotten the boy into the medical wing, she’d gotten the whole “that was incredibly dangerous” spiel from her dad Batman. He was proud of her though. She could tell. It spoke through the lines of his shoulders and the tilt of his head. The softness of his hands. Hopefully that softness would be given to the boy from the box.

There had been multiple debriefs and meetings to discuss how to proceed with the boy. The majority of heroes were loath to continue opening boxes. What if they were full of creatures much like the boy? Capable of so much damage and danger. They didn’t even know what he was.

The documents they had uncovered called the boy a ghost. But after checking his vital signs, they found he had a pulse. He had a heart, breath, and blood. He was human.

But he was in the box. So he wasn’t. The members of Justice league dark had been contacted and were due to arrive any day now. They had been on assignment somewhere else. Cass hadn’t bothered to find out where they’d been.

None of that mattered anyway.

What had mattered, truly, was that the boy from the box was afraid. Afraid and unable to communicate. And Cass understood him. He was terrified and desperate. And Cass saw him beyond the horrors.

He was a child and he needed help.

So he was hers now. No matter what anyone else said. She reached out to him first and he was her new brother/son/child. Bruce would have to deal with it.

She had stayed on the watchtower, with Bruce’s blessing, since the box had been opened. She barely left the boy’s side much to Bruce’s chagrin. He was not pleased with the possibility of her being in danger. But Tim had pointed out that she was plenty dangerous herself.

She loved her brothers.

She stayed on the watchtower all the time now. Staying with the boy and only leaving the observation room to shower and eat on her own. The doctors had insisted, gently, that she should take some time to herself after those first few days. So she does. Today she took a hot shower and attended a few meetings to keep up as to what they planned to do with her new brother. She also got to spend some time with Spoiler who had just so happened to be on the watchtower that day (she sent a thank you message to Tim over the family chat).

She looked through the observational window, a frown hidden behind her mask. The boy was hooked up to various machines to monitor his vitals. His eyes were still covered and the headphones were still firmly on his head. He looked so small and frail against the bed linens. There wasn’t much more they could do until the JLD members arrived.

The doctors inside the room were gently cleaning the boy. Running a warm soft wipe down his arms and legs, checking his vital signs, laying a warm blanket over him for comfort. She watched impassively at first, then with intense interest as some of the monitors showed brain activity.

Signs of waking. Her new brother was waking up.

She was the first one in the room when the boy jerked awake with a gasp.

---------

Consciousness.

Discomfort.

Gravity.

The air tastes funny. His arm itches. His legs feel heavy.

Weird.

Danny floated on the edge of wakefulness. Or at least what he thought was consciousness. It was hard to tell anymore. Everything was a cycle of dreaming and waking, or was it dreaming and dreaming? It was hard to find reality. Nothing changed except the hallucinations his mind conjured. And even his mind had started to get things wrong.

He couldn’t trust his memories anymore. He couldn’t remember what life was like. If he saw his mother in the box with him, he couldn’t make out the details of her face. Or His father’s laugh. Or his sister’s hair. Everything was fuzzy. Distant. Faded from his memories.

Did he even have a family? Was that something he made up?

He couldn’t remember.

How long had he been in here? He’d stopped counting the days when his eyes ceased to glow. Recycled ectoplasm was good at sustaining a ghost, but not good at feeding a ghost. And him being only a few years dead, he was still developing powers. Well he would be if he wasn’t essentially being purposefully stunted in this stupid box.

What a stupid box. Can’t even sit up in it. It was more like a coffin than a box. It would figure that he finally got put in a coffin. Specially since he died all the way but not quite once already. How lame. Someone somewhere was probably laughing about this.

What was he thinking about? Oh yeah. His eyes stopped glowing. Made it harder to see what was real. He couldn’t see the shadows of his real hands and the lack of them on the images his mind conjured. It was hard to tell the difference. If he could even tell the difference anymore.

He probably couldn’t tell at all anymore really.

He floated beyond consciousness for a moment more, resisting the press upon his mind to wake. Better to sleep. After all, there wasn’t anyone coming to get him. The whispers were silent when he wasn’t in his mind. The voices stopped. The hands didn’t pull at his mouth and eyes. It was the only chance at peace he got.

Something touched him.

Weird.

Wait…

Something, no, someone was touching him. Moving his itchy arm. He felt hands on his legs, moving them under the heaviness.

The hands were touching him.

Danny jolted to full consciousness with a gasp. He violently jerked away from the hands and scrambled back. They’d never moved him before! They’d only tried to! He had always fought them off! They were just hallucinations!! His mind only thought he was being touched!! What happened?! How?! WHY?!

His breath came in larger gasps of air as he spiraled into panic. The hands, glowing and green, decayed and skeletal reached out of the darkness. Whispered words filled his ears, static and chiming all at once. He flailed out at them frantically, touching nothing. He whimpered. They weren’t real they weren’t real they weren’t real.

One of the hands grabbed his arm.

He cried out at the contact. The weak and raspy sound pulling painfully from this throat as he lashed out at the hand and fell back. The ectoplasm felt firm and plush beneath him.

Wait, was that really ectoplasm? Was this real?

Somehow in his retreat, he reached an edge. He slipped.

He fell.

He hit a hard surface and felt the air whoosh from his lungs. He choked on the strange air and grasped blindly around himself. There was no ectoplasm, nothing swishing around him as he moved. He struggled to breathe and reached frantically out to his sides.

There were no walls.

No walls, no ceiling, no swishing stale ectoplasm.

What…

He… he wasn’t in the box.

This couldn’t be real.

He scrambled back along what he felt was the floor until he hit something hard. A wall? He didn’t care. This wasn’t real, but it felt real enough to use as an anchor, so at the wall he stayed.

Danny grasped at his arms. Nails dug into muscle, piercing the skin and drawing ectoplasm. He felt the pain and it grounded him. He was real. He was still real. His breathing was still harsh, the panic still real. The hands still reaching for him weren’t real. The floor and wall weren’t real. He was just trapped in another hallucination.

He just needed to calm down and wait until he came out of it naturally or hurt himself into reality. Either way he would still be in the box.

Abandoned in the box.

He dragged his nails down his arms, leaving behind gashes that wept. He wasn’t concerned though. His ghost form would heal fast enough that it wouldn’t make a difference. All he needed was to stop seeing things that weren’t real. He’d shed enough tears over illusions of his friends and family. Been through enough terrors and memories to doubt his mind. He knew he was in the box. Once he found the box again he could try to go back to sleep.

He’d lost the will to do anything more what felt like a lifetime ago. All he had left to his obsession was protection. Self protection. Survival. Keep his human half alive. By staying a ghost and surviving the horrors of his mind.

It was all he had left.

He ran his hands up his arms to start tearing at his skin again and found… wetness? He hadn’t healed yet? He lifted a hand to his face and licked the wetness on his fingers.

Copper tang. The faintest taste of ectoplasm.

It tasted like… blood?

Danny’s heart stopped in his chest. Wrong. His heart stuttered in his chest and he scrabbled at his neck. He fingers found his pulse.

Oh no.

He had a pulse. He was human again!

The darkness surrounding him was suddenly suffocating, pulling at his breath and stealing his rational thought. He was real, but he was going to die. Humans can’t survive as long as he had without food and water and air! He couldn’t keep control of his ghost form and his human half was going to die! He had to change back or he would fail at doing the only thing he had left!!

He started hyperventilating and desperately grabbed at his ghost core. An immediate searing pain shot through his chest. The sound he made was akin to someone tearing paper and he fell over on his side. He began trembling all over.

That hurt so bad. That hurt so bad.

He couldn’t think. He could breathe but that just brought him closer to death. Tears welled from his eyes and caught on something just beyond his eyelashes, turning the blackness somehow darker. He was going to die and the recycled ecto had failed and he was going to die and the static wouldn’t stop and the hands wouldn’t let him go and he was going to die alone and forgotten he was going to die again nopleasenopleasenotagain-

Something touched his hands.

Danny jerked back and away, nausea surging up his throat. He pushed himself up only to vomit stomach acid. The only thing in his system. It burned as it came and went. His stomach clenched so hard that he curled over on himself. His muscles shook with strain as he hyperventilated. He couldn’t get enough air. He couldn’t see. Couldn’t hear. Couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t move…

Something touched him again. A gentle pressure on his back. Warm and soft.

He tensed beyond what he thought he was able. Rigid, but shaking in fear. He had no thoughts beyond the sheer terror of what he thought was unreality becoming reality.

Moments passed. And nothing happened.

The pressure on his back stayed. It did not grasp at him like the hands did. It remained gentle and soft. A warmth. It was different. It was scary.

It felt nice.

Slowly, ever so slowly, Danny’s breathing calmed. Slowly, he felt things around him. He felt the blood trickling down his arms. The cold floor under his legs. The soft, long shirt on his body didn’t close in the back or reach down past his knees. He was warmer than the floor which was strange, but made sense. He was human again. He couldn’t even remember the last time he turned back human. It was his greatest fear. To turn human in the box and die alone and small in the dark enclosed space.

But he wasn’t dying. He was breathing. The air was fresh. It tasted strange. His hands fluttered along the wounds on his arms. He felt pain and knew it was real. And the pressure on his back felt real.

Did… did someone open the box?

Hope hit him so hard that he began to cry softly. He couldn’t let himself hope, but he couldn’t deny it. Not when this all seemed so real. His crying grew harder. Harsh stuttering breaths that he couldn’t even hear. Which was kind of odd. Why couldn’t he hear himself? Did he still have ears? He slowly reached up and felt where his ears should be. There was something covering them. A hard plastic thing that went up over his head. Slowly his hands moved in front of his face. He found his nose and his mouth. They were still there. Then he touched the places where his eyes should be. He felt cloth.

His eyes and ears were covered?

Another hand touched his own and he jolted. It was as gentle and warm as the other hand. He could finally hear his ragged cries as the hand took his gently and intertwined the fingers. A gentle squeeze had the tears coming hard and fast. From fear or hope? There was no telling. A sheer outpouring of emotion.

Someone had opened the box.

And they were holding his hand.

He desperately hoped this was real.

----------

That's it for now! Honestly I'm just writing snippets of story beats and then stringing them together when the anxiety has quieted. I have an AO3 account now, but I'm still posting everything here first!

Nyeeeh keep an eye out for more I guess.

[frostbitebakery]

for @ferretrade

.Hashmarks

“I’ve seen a few troopers commemorating their kills with those,” Aayla comments, pointing her stylus at his collarbone where his shirt has slipped down.

It’s absolutely sweltering on this planet whose name Bly is saving in his long term memory just to avoid it in the future. Breathing feels like swallowing water, sitting still has him sweating more profusely than the 16-hour battle sims they endured during training. So of course his temp-regulating undersuit is shot to hell and their quartermaster is a mean bastard trying to teach him a lesson in taking better care of his stuff.

Bly had wanted to cry and beg for mercy.

Instead he had narrowed his eyes, nodded once in menacing silence, and turned back to his duties, hoping to instill at least some fear and regret in Q.

Aayla, his cruel savior, had crinkled her nose at him and offered a very large, very billowy shirt when he had sweat-squelched his way to their command tent. “It’s Quinlan’s, originally,” she had explained at his curious look. “He didn’t want it anymore.”

“Too many sleeves?” Bly had guessed hazardously.

So now he’s sitting in shorts and a billowy shirt at their shared desk, the collar constantly slipping off his shoulder because Vos is huge, and it’s an all-around aggravating situation. Except Aayla who’s lovely and can do no wrong, obviously. But who’s also taking an interest in his tattoos which Bly is not prepared for since his brain is actively melting.

“They’re for my batch mates,” he thus replies to her inquiry.

While the frown is settling into her features, her eyes flick down to count the marks.

Bly kind of wants to cringe. Oops.

“I thought batches were… decanted,” bless her for stumbling over that word, “in fives?”

He leans back, shrugs deliberately which has the added bonus of the shirt hiding the hashmarks again. “Now, yeah.”

“Cody, Wolffe, Fox,” she counts, her eyes boring into him. She’s like a massif with a bone, and there are moments Bly wants to be a chew toy. Sadly, this isn’t one of them. “I’m sorry about Ponds,” she says, means it with all her heart. “And you. I thought that was your batch?”

“Now. Yeah,” he repeats, half-smile lifting one side of his mouth. Does his best to not let the relief be palpable for her senses.

.Lightning

“Does it really have to mean anything when it looks this cool?” He almost cracks his neck trying to look at his back in the mirror. Lightning bolts strike out from his spine, wrapping around his upper arms like electric wings.

So cool.

“Your body, your choice,” Aayla says diplomatically.

Never mind the nay-sayers.

.Tic Tac Toe

“Ow,” Bly groans.

“Fucking tubie,” Squid hisses at him, bloody hands doing stuff way too fast for him to follow, “stop crying, it’s just a flesh wound.”

Holy hell, but the spots in front of his eyes do seem to grow larger. “You’re holding my innards,” he points out just as Squid throws away something bloody. “Don’t I still need that?”

“That was a wound pad, stupid.”

Wow, the black spots are in color now. “Mind the regs, soldier,” he slurs out.

Squid pulls a bandage - when did he do that? He’s incredible. He makes tattoos and medic stuff! - way too tight. “Commander Stupid,” he relents with another harsh pull. Bly pouts at him. “Congrats, you won the game.”

Bly weakly fist bumps the air. “Yay.”

.327

“Well,” he huffs out with a chuckle, leans back against the hull, “they’re my everything. Body, heart, soul. I’m ready to die for them.”

“They’re ready to die for you, too,” Aayla says quietly.

“Yeah.” He watches her roll the mug a trooper, long gone, made for her between her hands. “Wish they’d stop that.”

.Splinters

Squid wipes away the excess ink with ease and practice. “Well, it looks as stupid as you wanted it to. My work here is done.”

“Are you sure you can’t see the tattoo underneath?”

“Of course.” Squid pulls off the stained gloves, throwing him a judging side-eye. “No one will know what exactly you “hearted”, Commander.”

.Text

“Out of my way,” Aayla reads off his hand while he is unfairly under the influence of way too many drugs, “Rippin off my flesh, so you can’t recognize me, anymore.”

“I was an angsty youth,” he explains, maybe still sore about Wash forgetting the g in ripping.

She nods sagely. “That explains your taste in music.”

“I love polka.”

“No, the other one—“ She pats his hand which she’s still holding. His hand is so lucky. “Never mind. When you get out of here I’m introducing you to grunge and taking you flannel-shopping.”

His head is already nodding. His body is awesome at responding. “You’re like my sugar daddy,” he compliments her. Her and her twin. No, that can’t be right. He blinks and there’s only one Aayla again.

She snorts at him. “Showing you the holonet has been a mistake and keeps me up at night.”

.Flowers

“I wanna be a hi—,” Bly hiccups, fumbles with his drink before it goes all over Cody. “Hibi—“

“Hibiscus,” Fox suggests more drily than his drink.

“That one! I wanna be a hibiscus in my next life.” Just chilling in the sun all day, getting watered.

“I wanna be a spexcel sheet,” Cody says to the soaked through napkin which is stuck to his face but also to the table.

“We know,” the rest of them say in unison.

Man, being a hibiscus would be amazing. He will not remember this by morning.

Bly sits up in alarm at that revelation, spills his drink over Cody anyway. “I will not remember wanting to be a hibiscus,” he says, keeps his voice from wobbling by the skin of his teeth.

“You could write it on Cody the spexcel sheet to remember,” Wolffe suggests, pats Cody’s head when vague grunts of agreement sound from the napkin.

“Or,” Fox drawls out with a slow grin.

.

Bly very carefully tugs on the bandage with squinting eyes. The foil and adhesive separating from his skin is loud as fuck but needs must when it comes to facing the fallout of a drunken night. The bandage slowly reveals tender but well-healing skin, gold and a dark brown accentuating his skin.

He stares.

“This is not a hibiscus.”

[just-a-ghost00]

What do they wish they could tell you?

This reading is romantically enclined. If you're wondering about a specific person that you're romantically interested in, whatever your situation may be, this reading is for you. The theme of this reading is Kpop solo artists.

Group 1

Cards : 4 of wands, Nature, Tibetan black quartz - Light up your spiritual path

I wanted to first adress that as I was pulling the cards for you, I felt a bit of warmth radiate through my stomach, around the solar plexus. And immediately this made me think of longing. I got the feeling that for a lot of you this would be a person that you are in a separation with, someone that is currently far from you whether that is by choice or because of external circumstances. The card of the tibetan black quartz mentioned a question that caught my eye straight away. "Could I be even clearer right now?" And this felt like something they would actually want to tell you. "What more do you want me to do? How far do I have to go to prove you that this is real?" This person feels frustrated and hopeless because they think you are not getting their point. That you do not see eye to eye with them. However, they think they have tried everything in their power to get you to understand the extent of their feelings. This person thinks a lot about you. They turn the situation over and over in their head again, to figure out what they've missed, what they could or should have done differently. The nature card made me feel like life circumstances lead you to go on your separate ways, yet this person is still keeping an eye on you and thinking about you consistantly. They cannot forget you. With so many eyes represented on the card and the presence of wings as well as a moon crescent that is placed like a halo, this makes me think that this person feels spiritually connected to you. The current distance between you allows them to consider your connection from a different angle and understand the truth of it all. Even though they may be missing you dearly, they think it's a blessing in disguise. This person wants to tell you that you are their home. With that 4 of wands, I get a strong message of "I want to come home to you".

"I want us to support each other and walk in the same direction. To face the future together, hand in hand, no matter what's ahead of us. I don't want us to fight and sulk all alone in our corner, when we could be together and ruling the world. I want us to write our own story. One we could fondly talk about to our children someday. One we could look back to with sparkle in our eyes as if it were yesterday. I have deeply thought about you, about us. About the change I wanted to see and the future I envisioned. And today, I know that my future is with you. I know that I want you to be around when I wake up in the morning, when I'm feeling down at the end of the day or excited about my success. I want you to be around when I am taking another step towards my goals or when I'm thinking of going back to where I started. I want us to see each other for who we are. No masks, no pretending. Just us, waltzing in the middle of a room like today could disappear and there would be no tomorrow. I love you. That thought has become as clear as the day. As certain as there is a rainbow after the rain. I want you like I have never wanted anyone before. That scared me, I admit it. But now I know. I know what it means and I am in for it. How can I get that feeling across to you? What do I have to do for you to trust me and let me in? Haven't I done enough already? Haven't have told you how much you meant to me? What was I lacking for you to distrust me and walk away? I want you to see me. Not for the person I used to be, not for what people portray me as, but for the person I am when I'm with you and the one I want to be for you. I wish you could see my efforts and my value. That you shared the same vision of the future as me. I miss you. There isn't a single day that I don't think about you. Everything reminds me of you and that is excruciating. To know that you may not feel the same, that maybe you are already in other arms, other sheets. That maybe you don't think of me like I do. That you have moved on and forgotten everything we've been through. When I look at the sky, I think I see your face looking down on me. When I see a star, I wish it were you shining a light on me. I pray to God for your presence. I ask for you to be safe and sound. I ask for you to love me. In my prayers I talk to you and whisper to the wind the words I wish I could whisper into your ear. Do they get to you? Do you feel my embrace anytime you are caught by the wind? Because I do."

Group 2

Cards : Page of swords, The Wildling, Hiddenite - Claim your happy place

First of all, I want to mention that a lot of air related energy is being represented in this spread and there's an emphasis put on swords because the wildling card also has two swords crossing depicted on it. Which reminds me of the 2 of swords card in certain decks. Right off the bat, I got a very combattive energy from these cards and heard "You are mine". "I'm coming for you." It feels like this person may have been very uncertain in the past about you, what you meant to them and what they hoped for. But they recently gained clarity about that and now they wish to communicate without about what they have found out. I also felt like this person is very protective over you and feeling urged to act. As if something happened that triggered this visceral need of being by your side as soon as possible. For some of you, I'm getting the message that your person may have heard that you were being courted by another person. If that is not the case, something may have given them the impression that such a thing was happening. They want to tell you that people better stay away from you because they intend to "claim" you as theirs. I'm getting a message that this person had a dream in which they were losing you, possibly in a tragic way or a dramatic way. And this person thought to themselves " sh*t I didn't see that coming". They want to tell you that now, they know where they stand when it comes to you. They want to be by your side, fighting with you instead of against you.

"I am done resisting the urge to love you with all I have. In the past, I tried to forget you. To ignore what I felt was so obvious. I was stuck in a loop, struggling between my thoughts of you and my fears. I was fighting against myself and in the process I was fighting you. I hurt you, said and did things that lead you to believe I was cold, that I didn't care when in reality you were all I could see. You were in my mind 24/7. I kept imagining things, wondering how we could be together, trying to establish the possibilities I had, making plans in my mind but I got scared and ran away. I am done running. I don't want to lie to you anymore. I don't want to pretend being this cold hearted s.o.b that only thinks about their own satisfaction. I want to be with you. To prove you that you were not wrong. To show you the true essence of who I am. I want to know more about you. To figure out this thing that's between us, understand why it's there, where it's taking us. I just want to talk to you. To know you're okay. That you're safe and sound, that no one has laid a finger on you. If that ever happened, I would be devastated. I look at your pictures and can"t help but wonder who took it. Was there another person behind the camera that loves you more than I do? I'm tired of acting as if nothing happened, of going to work or going on with my day wearing a mask of indifference when all I can think about is having you in my arms. I wish to tell you I am different than what you perceive of me. That I am worth your time and energy. I want to fight for your love and attention, to be worthy of you. I want to prove the world that we make sense. That we go together well. I want to make a statement that will mark you forever and let everyone know that you are off limits."

Group 3

Cards: 4 of wands, Connect to heart, Pyrite - call on your core power

Before doing your reading, as I shuffled the cards, I challened the song Listen to your heart from Roxette. Looking at the lyrics a little, I got the feeling of someone being afraid of missing an opportunity if they ever chose to walk away. It's like this person wants to say "I don't want to make the wrond decision". "I'm afraid of ruining it all if I don't take this seriously." They wish to tell you that they imagine a future with you. That to them, you are more than just a friend or a random person they may have met a few times. That their feelings are stronger than what you may perceive or imagine. They wish to tell you that they would do anything for you. That they feel attracted to you in ways that sometimes surprise them. That they are loyal to you and that their heart is filled with love whenever they think about you. You hold the key to this person's heart. They feel like you are connected through space and time. And even if you may be apart, this person's gaze is always turned towards you, their heart is always open to you, their thoughts are filled with memories of you. They just cannot go away and close the door, no matter how hard they try. Their feelings for you are stronger than any fear they may have regarding the connection. This person wishes to tell you that they want to be by your side through thick and thin.

" I love you. It's as simple as that. There isn't much to say or to argue about. Because deep in your heart, you know this is the truth. Ever since I met you, I have envisioned a future where we stood together hand in hand. I have wanted to be with you and support you, to hold you in my arms and cherish you for the rest of my life. Upon first sight I knew that this was not just a coincidence. That this meant more than our eyes could see and our minds could grasp. I felt immediately close to you and this incessant need to be close to you. I wanted to love you with all I had. I couldn't help but to adore you and worship you. I was like a dog on a leash and if at first I got scared, with time I didn't mind. Because it felt like this was the right thing to do. I always feel you in the corner of my mind. If I close my eyes, I can see you dancing in the room, trying to please me and seduce me. I can picture your body on the floor and the way it moves so naturally against mine. I can see us walking to the altar hand in hand, a smile on our faces, love radiating through our hearts. I can imagine the house we'd have, the family we'd build. The fairytale kind of love I always wished for. I cannot think of anyone else better than you to fit that role. I wouldn't want anyone else, even if that person was a better match. Because I chose you. And I am not going to go back on that decision. I want to make love to you. But everything has its own time, right? Let us not rush. We have all the time in the world to learn about each other and explore this bond that we share. I am sure you feel it too. This isn't an illusion. It is real. And I want you to embrace it just like I intend to do."

[yeonzzzn]

HIIIIII I've been thinking a lot these last few days.... heeseung being an angel (could be a fallen angel or something) falling in love with a mortal, but they can't be together because angels and human beings together are completely prohibited... a totally hot and forbidden love

— 🐇💨

I am so in love with this concept. the minute this popped up in my askbox I knew I had to write it asap. I apologize for this being so long idk what happened my fingers just wouldn’t stop typing.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

fallen angel: lee heeseung

pairing: heeseung x afab!reader word count: 7.6k

Heeseung never sinned. Ever. Never once said anything bad about anyone, never once cursed, never once gossiped, kept his emotions in check, never had a single terrible thought about someone else, never committed any crimes, and always—always—had a pure heart. 

That was until you. 

Heeseung was God's most prized angel. He did anything and everything that was asked of him. Never once defying God’s wishes or commands. His pure heart is the whole reason that when he well, died, he was the first one selected to be God’s second hand. Heeseung lived his whole life dedicated to his church and doing nothing but good. 

But you? Oh, you. You were the first temptation Heeseung ever got. 

“I have a job for you, my angel,” God spoke to him. 

Heeseung knelt down on one knee with one hand over his chest, bowing his head, “Anything for you, my savior.” 

“We have a family that needs a blessing, a pure angel to take away their worries. They are struggling hard. Go down to land and help this family. I trust you with this one, Heeseung. Please.” 

Heeseung didn’t hesitate. Nodding and accepting the job God had to offer him. 

Heeseung stretched his wings, preparing for his flight down to the mortal lands. The trip didn’t take long and the minute the tips of his shoes touched solid land, his whole outfit changed and his wings were hidden. From the bright white robes and dress shoes to tanned brown boots, light blue jeans, and a black button-up dress shirt. It was one of Heeseung’s favorite outfits to wear when he came to the mortal lands. 

He looked around the city he landed in, watching as the mortals passed by him and crossed over the street. The sounds of cars honking and people yelling filled his ears along with the smells of the city. Heeseung smiled, remembering his time as a mortal and seeing how much had changed over the thousand years he’d been away. 

Pushing away the memories of the past, Heeseung starts his walk in the direction God told him this family would be. He shoved his hands in his jeans pockets, smiling brightly as he walked past the mortals, none of them paying him any mind as they went about their normal lives. 

“Fuck!” 

Heeseung chuckled at the curse, shaking his head. He wasn’t used to hearing such vulgar language. His eyes searched the sea of people around him to see where I came from, his curiosity taking over him. 

You were running down the street, hairtye in your mouth as you pulled back your long hair back into a ponytail, quickly pulling the band from your mouth and twisting it in your hair. With how you were rushing, Heeseung knew you were the one he heard the curse come from. You looked down at your watch, letting more curses escape your lips, “I am going to be so fucking late! Holy fucking shit.” 

Heeseung raised his brows at the language, “Jeez…mortals never change.” He wasn’t judging, he understood life as a mortal wasn’t the easiest and everyone had their roles to play. It wasn’t his job to judge anyway, he left that up to God. 

But you kept pushing along, pulling your phone from your pocket and dialing a number, “Pick up, please for the love of fucking God pick up!” 

You were so focused on getting to your destination that you didn’t even realize you ran into Heeseung, smacking your shoulder into his. Heeseung didn’t move an inch at your touch, but you nearly fell to your knees. Heeseung stopped to face you, making sure you were okay but seeing you catch your balance before tumbling over, looking back over your shoulder and snarling at him, “Asshole…” you mumbled under your breath as you still pushed along down the street. 

Heeseung blankly stared at you then shoved his hands back in his pockets and continued to his destination, saying a small prayer for you. 

It didn’t take much longer for Heeseung to reach the small house right outside the city. He took a deep breath and smiled wide, knocking on the door. 

A man opened the door, his eyes puffy and red from crying and now full of confusion looking at Heeseung, “Can I help you?” 

Heeseung smiled even more, “I am here to help you.” 

The man gave him an even more confused look, “Excuse me?” 

A small cough could be heard within the house and soft sobs followed after it. 

Heeseung peeked into the house, “Your child, they’re sick,” the man looked down to the ground, putting his lips into a thin line, “I can help. I was sent here to do so.” 

The man flicked his eyes back up at Heeseung, studying him, “Are you the angel we asked God to send?” 

Heeseung gently nodded. 

He was led into the home and to their child’s bedroom. The mother was hovering over her child, who looked to be about eight. His eyes were tightly closed and his breathing was uneven. He was going to die soon, Heeseung could sense it, could see it. The poor boy still had so much life left to live, and that’s why God sent Heeseung here. To heal this child. 

Heeseung placed a gentle hand on the mother, her pleading eyes staring up at him. Once she realized who he was, she reached for his hand, “Dear angel, save my baby boy.” 

Heeseung held her hand tight and nodded. With his free hand, he placed it against the boy's chest, sending a small ounce of healing power to him, reciting a prayer. The boy's mother and father joined him in the prayer, their cries slowly fading out as the heartbeat and breathing of their child became steady. 

The family thanked Heeseung more times than he could count. His face hurt from the amount of smiling he did during those hours he sat in their home. They even cooked him dinner as a thanks. Once Heeseung walked out of the home, he understood why God chose this family. The boy had much life to give, and his parents were good and pure souls. 

Heeseung walked back into the city, hands behind his back as he stared at the nightlife. Loving all the lights that lit up the city perfectly. The hustling life of mortals laughing with friends and family as they head out for dinner or to even party. 

Hopefully, God won’t mind that I take a small walk before heading back. 

Heeseung walked as far as he could, finally deciding it was time to head back to the golden gates. 

That was until he saw you. 

Heeseung stood at a crosswalk, cars flying by and the wind blowing his silver hair and clothes in all directions. You popped up to his right, your phone once again was in your hands, thumbs pressing away at the screen. 

Time seemed to slow down then. The red hand that illuminated the crosswalk to not cross flashed its light. The cars fast-paced slowed. Heeseung turned his head to look at you, watching as you continued to step from the sidewalk and into the street, not paying any attention. 

His heart raced faster, eyes widening as he looked to his left, seeing a car passing into the next lane without using a blinker and showing no signs of slowing down or even honking their horn at you to show they were there. 

Heeseung acted fast, stepping down from the curb, hands reaching out to grab your shoulders and pull you back against him. Heeseung released his wings, wrapping them around you and twirling you around and back to the sidewalk. 

Time went back to normal, and your heart nearly jumped out of your chest. How stupid could you be to walk out into the street in the middle of rush hour while on your phone? You could have died. That’s when you noticed the white wings wrapped over you along with the strong arms that held you tightly. 

You looked up, resting your head against his chest, seeing it was the man you ran into earlier, seeing him staring back down at you. His chest raised and fell quickly, his warm breath touching your face. He’s an angel. An actual, real-life angel. Ones you’ve only been told about from stories as a child. 

Heeseung pulled his wings back behind him and hid them from the human eye once again. Seeing the other mortals around didn’t take any notice. He continued to stare into your eyes, “You silly little thing.” 

The longer the two of you looked at each other, the more your heart wanted to rip from your chest. He was beautiful. Breathtaking. You felt safe in his arms and without knowing you leaned more against him, Heeseung, as if on instinct, held you tighter against him. 

“Thank you,” you finally managed to say, your cold hands touching his where they sat against your forearms, “For saving me.”

Feeling your cold touch brought Heeseung back to reality. He smiled and released his arms from you, “Try and pay better attention next time, okay?” 

You turned to fully face him. Every fiber of your being wanted to cling to him. Your heart is calling for him. 

Heeseung kept his smile, giving you a small nod, and prepared to turn away. 

“Wait!” you quickly shouted, your hands now grasping at the back of his shirt. Heeseung looked over his shoulder at you, “Let me make it up to you, for saving me. And to apologize for calling you an asshole earlier.” 

Heeseung chuckled, “Being nice to an angel won’t get you into heaven, silly mortal.” 

You bit at the skin on your lip, “I really just want to thank you.” 

Heeseung looked up to the sky and then shrugged. God can wait for a bit longer. 

He followed close behind you until you stood in front of your apartment door and with shaky hands you unlocked the door and went inside, Heeseung trialing in. 

He held his hands behind his back, looking over every inch of your studio apartment. 

“I’m sorry it’s so small…” you whispered, closing the door behind you. 

Heeseung turned to face you, his smile still on his face, “It’s not my place to judge what you do or do not have. Your space is perfect if you make it perfect.” 

Right. You forgot he’s an angel. You kicked out of your shoes, reaching your hands up to unzip your jacket, noticing how quickly he turned around to look away from you. 

You drop your hands to your sides, “Want anything to eat or drink?” you ask quickly walking to your kitchen, “I am not sure what angels eat?” 

Heeseung chuckled, slowly turning to face you, “You don’t seem to be questioning what I am.” 

You gave him a small smile as you pulled two water bottles from your fridge, “I always believed. Believed we humans had someone looking after us, whether that was a God or angels or anything else.” 

Heeseung tilted his head, “What if I was anything else? You let me into your home so willingly.” 

You swallowed, not even taking into conversation that the man in front of you could be the other type of angel. One that was meant to draw you in and kill you, “Are you going to hurt me?” 

Heeseung took a few steps towards you, “I would never.” 

You slowly nodded at him and handed him his water bottle, “I am YN, by the way.” 

Heeseung gently took the water from you, his fingers brushing over yours, “Heeseung. Second hand to God.” 

You widen your eyes, you weren’t just dealing with an angel, but you were dealing with God’s TOP angel. 

Heeseung stared at you, “Something wrong, YN?” 

You shook your head, “You’re just…beautiful.” you didn’t know where that came from or why you even spoke those words from your mouth. 

His heart picked up its pace, and his ears started to burn red. He took steps away from you and finally took sips of his water. 

Heeseung thought you were beautiful too, a little silly mortal, but beautiful nevertheless. His heart was pulling to you and he needed to leave soon and quickly. 

He cleared his throat, “You wanted to thank me, but that’s not necessary. I was simply doing my job.” 

You set your water down on the table, “You saved my life, I need to thank you somehow.” 

Heeseung looked at your water bottle, watching how the droplet fell down the plastic and touched the wood of the table. He sat his bottle down beside yours, “Tell me your thanks then, I must return soon.” 

You didn’t know what came over you or what you were even thinking. All you knew was you were now standing before Heeseung, looking up into his brown eyes.

Heeseung stared back down into your eyes, loving the way their color shined under the light of your kitchen. You stood on your tiptoes, placing your hands on his shoulders. 

“YN,” he whispered, his hands now on your biceps, pulling your feet back flat to the floor, “I can’t accept that.” 

“Just one,” you whisper back, once again standing on your tiptoes, becoming inches away from his face. 

Heeseung’s lips parted, frozen in place as he watched you move closer. You brushed your nose against him, slowly closing your eyes as your lips touched together. 

Heeseung kept still as you held your lips to his, his heart threatening to rip from his chest. But once you pulled away, he was pulling you back. 

His hands moved from your biceps to your face, keeping you in place as he kissed you back. Lips moved together as if he’d never kissed someone before. 

Heeseung had his fair share of kisses when he was mortal, but none of them felt like yours do. Tasting so sweet and addicting. You kissed him back with the same amount of passion he was giving you, roaming your hands from his shoulders to his neck, fingers tangling in the silver strands of his hair. 

You don’t know if it was you or Heeseung who deepened the kiss, all concepts of time and the world around you were out the window at his touch. At the way his hands slid from your face to your hips. At how your body was pressed so close to his and how you were now pressed against the wall of your apartment. 

It was just kissing. You two were just making out and nothing else. But you wanted more, so much more. Heeseung too, wanted more of you. He couldn’t get enough. He rocked his hips against yours, his growing hard cock rubbing you just in the right way that your lips released from his to softly moan. 

Heeseung was off you within seconds of hearing that lewd, sweet sound come from your mouth. 

He pressed his back against the door, palming the door in hopes of getting his hands to stop shaking as he pants to catch his breath. 

You wrapped your arms around yourself, “I’m sorry.” 

Heeseung glances up at you, his pupils blown out and filled with the want he has for you. You wanted to run to him, pull him back into you. But the moment his wings, his oh-so-beautiful wings, appeared from behind him, you knew your time with him was over. 

“We can’t see each other again,” Heeseung quickly says, turning and reaching for the door handle. 

“Why?!” you quickly asked, pushing yourself off the wall, “I want to see you again.” 

Heeseung flung the door open and rushed to the railing, “I can’t sin. You’re too tempting.” You stood in the doorway, watching as he climbed the railing, stretching his wings out. He glanced behind him, taking one last long look at you, feeling his heartbreaking, “Goodbye, silly mortal.” 

And then he was gone. He shot into the sky so far and fast you didn’t have time to blink, “Goodbye, Heeseung.” 

—

Heeseung kneeled at the altar, bringing his hands together, and doing his daily prayers and offerings. Pushing every thought of you out of his mind. 

It’s been days since he left you. Days since he felt the warmth of your body against his. How your lips tasted and moved against his own. How you made his body feel. The things he wanted to do to you…the thoughts that ran through his head about you. 

Heeseung squeezed his eyes, doing everything he could to shove the thought of you down and away. To forget about you and what had happened. He couldn’t have you no matter what. Angels and mortals can’t be together anyway. It was forbidden. Angels' jobs are to protect, provide guidance, to watch over, and ensure the safety of the mortals. To not intervene and only to do so when it’s necessary. Everything about you was against the rules. He couldn’t have relationships with you. 

Heeseung stood from the altar, turning to see his brothers standing behind him, “My apologies,” he said to the six of them, “I took a bit longer this morning. Please take your turn.” 

He stepped aside, watching as the youngest and newest angel in their ranks took to the alter first. 

“What took you so long to return the other night, brother?” Niki, the youngest, asked as he placed his hands together and knelt, “We missed you at dinner.” 

Heeseung placed his hands behind his back, “I was sent on a job. The family I helped offered me food as a thanks.” 

Sunoo and Sunghoon knelt down beside Niki, copying the prayers. 

Jay and Jake kept their eyes on Heeseung, their eyes telling Heeseung everything he needed to know: that they knew where he was that night. 

Jungwon gave Heeseung a dimpled smile as he knelt beside the others, “It was very nice of them to return their thanks in dinner for you. Make sure to keep contact with them. It would be the right thing to do.” 

Heeseung nodded at the younger, “Of course. Already plan to.” 

He looked back at Jay and Jake, giving them a small nod and walking past them. 

“We know,” was all Jay said in a whisper only he, Jake, and Heeseung could hear. 

Heeseung stopped a few steps behind them, keeping his hands behind his back and head held high, “I know.” 

“Only Jay and I,” Jake added, his Aussie accent coming out in a hushed tone, “You know the rules.” 

“I know,” Heeseung said again, “I saved her life and she thanked me the way she felt fit.” 

“That’s not what we are worried about though,” Jay sighed, keeping his eyes locked on the younger ones in front of him, folding his wings tightly to his back. 

Heeseung knew the two of them were being nosey. That they peeked down onto the mortal lands and saw everything that happened. 

“Will you tell on me?” Heeseung asked, keeping himself held high. 

Jake chuckled, “Of course not,” he finally turned to look at Heeseung, staring at the back of his head, “You just have to promise to never see her again.” 

Heeseung closed his eyes, “I know the rules. I appreciate you two looking after me, but I am the eldest angel, the most trusted, and I wouldn’t break that trust. Not to God, or you six.” 

“We want you to promise,” Jay mumbled, “Say you promise.” 

“I promise.” 

Jay and Jake nodded, joining their brothers at the alter, leaving Heeseung standing alone. He walked out of the chapel and into the garden. He hated having to make that promise, but knowing it was necessary to make. Not just for his brother's peace of mind, but also his own. 

The day went on like normal with his normal scheduled things. It was enough to distract him away from the conversation that morning with Jay and Jake. Enough to keep his mind off and away from you. 

That was until night fell and he returned to his room with his back pressed to his shower wall, head leaned over, and letting the water slip down his head and face. 

Heeseung reached his fingers up to his lips, rubbing the pads over them, remembering the way your lips felt pressed against him. He ran his hands from the back of his neck to his shoulders, touching every inch of his upper half that your hands touched. 

Heeseung started to pant, his heart beating faster at the memories of you pressed against him. The moan that left your vulgar mouth. The pulsing pressure Heessung felt on his lower half was making him shake. He wrapped his hand around himself, slowly stroking up and back down. Biting his lips to keep any noise from coming out. 

This wasn’t like Heeseung. This wasn’t his normal behavior. And if he got found out…it would be over for him. It would have been over for him a long time ago if he was caught with you that night. Or if he continued any further. The moment Heeseung would have touched you inappropriately, or slid himself inside you…

Heeseung’s breath hitched, his thumb circling the tip. His eyes were glued to how red and angry it looked, how badly he wanted to feel your hand in place of his. 

He quickly let go of himself, turning the warm water from hot to cold, his body shivering from the new temperature and removing his thoughts about you. 

Even after his shower and now lying in bed, his thoughts trailed to you and the small time he spent with you. His heart ached, begging to hear your voice one more time. He forced himself to sleep. Forced himself to wake up that next morning and go about his normal schedule. To go back to bed and repeat over and over. 

Heeseung broke the minute he landed back in the city, sneaking out of heaven for the night and landing himself at your front door. His shaky hands banging on your door. 

You jolted awake, angrily stomping your way to the front door, “What the fuck do you want it’s almost two in the morning!” you snapped pulling the door open to see Heeseung standing before you, his wings quickly pulled tightly to his back as he pushed himself inside, his hands immediately cupping your face and lips attaching to yours. 

“Hee—Heeseung,” you said his name in between kisses, eventually pressing your hands to his chest and pushing him. Heeseung pulled back, looking at you with so much worry, “What are you doing here?” You asked. 

Heeseung slid his hands from your face to your arms, thumbs rubbing at your skin, “Do you want me to go?” 

“No!” you said a bit too hastily, fingers gripping at the fabric of his dark blue shirt, “I’ve missed you so much please don’t go.” 

It was true, you missed him more than you wanted to admit and the weeks you spent away from him were torture. You barely knew him, knew next to nothing about him actually. But something about him pulled you in. The moment you felt his arms and wings wrap around you, your heart was his for the taking. 

You did enough research after he left about why he couldn’t stay with you. Why he couldn’t be doing this with you. He’s breaking enough rules as it is to be here with you right now. 

Heeseung kissed you again, letting his wings drop to the floor, “I’ve missed you so much,” he said between each kiss, “You’re so darn tempting.” 

You giggled at his words, wrapping your arms around his neck, “I thought you couldn’t sin,” you teased him. 

Heeseung left your lips to kiss down your neck, “Kissing isn’t a sin. As long as I don’t touch you or have sex with you…” he brushed his lips back up to your jaw, “Just don’t tempt me to do anything but kiss you.” 

You did as the angel told you. Doing nothing but letting him kiss you and keeping your hands to yourself even if it was killing you to not touch him. Heeseung kept his hands on your face, thumbs gently rubbing back and forth across your jawline, slowly walking you to your bed and laying you down. Heeseung climbed in over you, gently laying his body down on top of yours, wanting to be as close as legally possible for him to be. 

He didn’t move, no matter how hard he got. He didn’t touch you anywhere but your arms and face, even if his hands were screaming to touch every inch of you. All he did was keep his lips connected to yours, kissing you so gently and softly until both of yours and his lips were swollen. 

You fell asleep in his arms but awoke to an empty apartment but a handwritten letter was on your kitchen table, Heeseung telling you he would be back when he could. 

And Heeseung kept true to his word. He always came back to you. He always held you close in his arms and kissed you gently. Heeseung fell hard in love with you. No amount of time spent with you was ever enough, not when he had to go back to Heaven before anyone noticed he was gone. Do his normal duties and schedule, wait a couple of days, then crash land back at your door. 

Each time was harder than the last. You became his every thought and wish. And Heeseung was slowly starting to lose himself when it came to you. His immortal life started to become more mortal again being with you. Mostly with how much your existence was starting to tempt him more and more. 

Heeseung was slowly starting to break the rules even more than he already was. Brushing his hands over your breasts slowly, tangling his fingers in your hair, rubbing his cock against your heat, and shoving his tongue down your throat. He would undress you, undress himself, leaving you in nothing but your bra and panties and him in his boxers, trying so hard to keep his eyes on your face and not trace every inch of your almost bare body. 

You were the devil that sat on his shoulder, breaking him away from who he really was. Never once in his life, before he died and after, was he ever faced with temptation like this. 

You made it so hard for him to behave. Not when he’d hear your sweet moans fill his ears as you buck your hips against his to feel his length and run your hands down every inch of his body. 

Heeseung nearly lost his mind when your hand wrapped around him for the first time, feeling how your fingers pumped him so slowly and oh so so good. 

“Angels don’t act like this, darling,” Heeseung whispered in your ear as your hand squeezed him, “You’re such a devil to me.”

You kissed his neck, stroking his cock a bit faster, “I’m just a devil in disguise,” you teased him, knowing full well Heeseung was loving this banter. 

“I love you,” he kissed your ear, rocking himself in your hand, “I love you so much.” 

Heeseung had you stop before things got too out of control. Redressing himself and you before giving you a final kiss goodnight and leaving. 

You always hated to watch him go. To watch as your angel flew away into the night and having to count down the days until you could see him again. 

—

Heeseung stood before the altar, his six brothers surrounding behind him along with the other angels of heaven. He kept his hands pressed behind his back, “You called for me, my savior?” 

God hummed, “We have a lot to discuss, my angel.” 

Heeseung glanced around at his brothers, taking note of their facial expressions. Then looked at the other angels, they wore the same looks, just not as hurt as his brothers. 

It didn’t take a genius to figure out what this was about. Heeseung knew. His luck ran out. 

“What would you like to discuss?” Heeseung asked, giving a smile. 

“About your wrongdoings.” 

Heeseung’s smile faded, dropping his kind and happy act. He had to admit, he no longer was happy being here in heaven. Not when his heart was on mortal lands. Heaven was back on Earth. Not in these clouds. Not anymore. 

“Are you wanting me to confess my sins, my lord?” Heeseung kept his head lifted, straightening up his posture. 

“Yes,” God said with a sigh, “And why you betrayed me.” 

Heeseung pulled his wings tighter to his back, squeezing his hands together, “I am in love with her.” 

His six brothers closed their eyes tightly, tilting their heads down towards the white morale floor, hands in fists. The other angels gasped at the confession. 

“State the rest of your sins, Lee Heeseung.” 

Heeseung lifted his head up higher, “I’ve touched her. Let her touch me. Slept beside her and held her in my arms. Rubbed my body against hers until she was moaning.” 

The gasps of the other angels grew louder, their chattering voices echoing across the chapel. 

“But you never slept with her, have you?” 

Heeseung smirked, “No, I haven’t had sex with her. But I want to.”

More gasps filled the chapel. Jay now appearing at Heeseung’s side, his hand gripping his shoulder, “Stop talking man!” 

Heeseung shook his brother off him, “Go and stand back where you were, Jay.” 

“Jongseong,” God said quickly, “Please.” 

Jay slowly walked back, standing close to Jake. 

“What has she done to you? My angel? Why did you fall into her temptation when she’s a devil.” 

Heeseung tensed his face and body. Wings pulled even tighter against him to keep them from shaking out of pure anger, “She’s a human being. Nothing even close to those damned demons.” 

More gasps from the other angels. 

“You will watch your mouth when speaking to me.” 

Heeseung chuckled, looking down to the floor, “My apologies.” 

Heeseung thinned his lips in a line. He was filled with so much conflict. This place wasn’t his home, not when you were down below waiting for him. Heeseung loved his time here, loved helping mortals who needed him, and loved his six brothers and even the jobs and duties he had here. Spending time with you did change him, making him want more out of his immortal life than to just exist. He wanted to live. He wanted to love. He wanted life with you. 

Heeseung held his head high again, relaxing his body, “I confess to all my sins. My thoughts I’ve had of her, the things I want to do to and with her and I confess to betraying you and your trust, my savior.” 

God sighed, silence filling the room. Heeseung knew what was next. His punishment. 

“Jay, Jake, Sungoon, Sunoo, Jungwon, and Niki,” God called for them, “Stand by Heeseung.” 

Heeseung watched his six brothers stand closer to him, seeing the looks on their faces as God spoke to them one one-on-one in their minds, telling them exactly what they needed to do. 

Niki and Jungwon held his legs down, while Sunghoon and Sunoo stretched his arms out and held a death grip on them. 

Heeseung’s body shook, pure fear covering his face when he felt Jay’s and Jake’s hands touch his wings, “No,” Heeseung whispered, fighting as much as he could to pull his wings back, “Not my wings.” 

Jay gritted his teeth as he forced Heeseung’s left wing out, stretching it out to its full span. Jake did the same, biting down hard on his lip and breaking the skin. 

“This is your punishment, Lee Heeseung,” God said with a stern voice, “You lose your place here. And I’m taking back your wings I granted you.” 

Heeseung pushed and pulled at his brothers, doing anything he could to get them off him but their grips held hard. 

“Heeseung, please,” Sunghoon begged as he gripped his wrist harder, “Stop.” 

“Hyung please,” Sunoo begged. 

But Heeseung kept fighting to break free. 

“ENOUGH!” 

Everyone stood still as the room shook with God’s shout. Sweat rolled down Heessung’s face, his eyes piercing through everyone surrounding him.

“Take his wings. Now.”

Heeseung smirked, “To hell with all this,” he whispered. 

Jay and Jake looked at each other, their tears swelling up in their eyes as God whispered in their minds to take Heeseung’s wings. To rip them from his body. 

They pulled and Heeseung shouted. His voice echoed off the walls as Jay and Jake pulled with their full strength. Sunghoon and Sunoo kept their grips on his wrists tight and same with Jungwon and Niki at his legs, holding on for dear life. 

It was killing Jay to have to do this, to watch his own hands pull his older brother's wing right out of his body. He could only imagine the pain Heeseung was feeling. And Jake? He was in tears. He could feel inch by inch of Heeseung’s right wing stripping from his back. He could already see the blood spilling onto his white robes and onto the floor. Seeing Heeseung fling his head back and forth in a rage as his voice bounced off the walls and echoed throughout the whole chapel. The pained faces his other six brothers had at having to witness this. 

Jake wished he could turn back time, wished he could have stopped Heeseung from sneaking out. Stopped the angel who caught Heeseung dropping down to the mortal lands and kept him from getting nosey and running his mouth to God. But it was all too late. Heeseung would get his wings stripped from him and pushed down to the Earth to fall. All Jake could do now was pray he survived long enough to make it to you. 

Heeseung clenched his jaw as the last bit of his wings was stripped from his body, his back spilling blood and muscles aching from the loss of where his wings once were. His beautiful white feathered wings lost all their life and slumped in Jay’s and Jake’s hands, blood dripping down them. 

His brothers stepped away from him, watching as Heeseung fell to the floor, too dizzy from the blood loss. 

“You will now fall,” God sighed, “You will be stripped of your immortality and fall to Earth. You will crawl to your lover and show her where her sins got you.” 

Heeseung weakly smirked, eyes closing, “Gladly.” 

Heeseung didn’t know who picked him up by his arms and dragged him out of the chapel, he just knew it wasn’t any of his brothers. The grip the other two angles had on him was proof enough that it wasn’t any of the ones he loved. 

The six of them stood in the chapel still, eyes locked on Heeseung's wingless back, watching the blood pool from the wounds and stain his white robes and the marble floor. 

They watched helplessly as Heeseung was pushed off the edge. 

—

You heard a faint knocking on your door. At first, you thought you might have gone crazy and heard things. But once the knocking kept happening and then you heard something fall, you quickly rushed to the door, opening it to find Heeseung still in his white-stained robes. His back was pressed against the railing and his skin was pale. 

“Heeseung, oh my god!” you dropped down to his side, cupping your hands to his face, “What happened?!” 

Heeseung was barely able to hold his eyes open, “My wings…they stripped my wings from me.” 

You bit at the skin on your cheek, quickly standing back to your feet and pulling him up with all the strength you had, pulling his arm over your shoulders and gripping your arm around his waist, pulling him inside your apartment. 

Heeseung barely made it a couple of steps in before falling to his knees, you losing your grip on him and your eyes finally landing on the holes in his robes and the blood that still continued to push out. 

“Heeseung,” you fell back to his side, “You need to get to a hospital.” 

“And tell them what?” he breathed out, fingers gripping the carpet as he pants, “That I am a fallen angel who got their wings forcefully torn from his body?” 

Heeseung wasn’t trying to be snappy or rude, truly. The pain was just so immense he couldn’t control anything. 

You sat back on your heels, watching the love of your life suffer. This was your fault. It was all your fault. You’re the one who asked him to come home with you that fateful day. You’re the one who kissed him. Who tempted him. You pulled him in and touched him. You did this to him. 

Heeseung could practically hear your brain turning over and over. He pushed himself to his side, reaching his hand up to grip your chin, forcing you to look at him, “This is not your fault, you hear me? Not even close.” 

The tears swelled in your eyes now, falling into his touch as he cupped his hand to your cheek, “Heeseung…” 

“Baby,” he whispered, “I need you to do as I say, okay? My immortality hasn’t been taken from me yet, I will heal a bit fast but I need my wounds covered and taken care of, can you do that for me?” 

You nodded, placing a kiss on his palm. Heeseung told you exactly what you needed to do. Starting with tearing his robes off his body and ripping it into a big enough strand to be wrapped around him. Then using any medical alcohol you had in the apartment and pour it onto his wounds and hold a towel to them. It killed you having to press the towels to his wounds, feeling the massive hole where his beautiful wings once were…the pain Heeseung must be feeling…

But you took care of him. Doctoring his wounds to the best of your ability and doing as he instructed you. You wrapped the pieces of what was left of his robe around his chest and back, tying it as tightly as you could. 

You helped him to your bed, steadying him up as he sat down. Heeseung wasn’t as pale as earlier, but you could still see the pained expression. 

“Hey,” He whispered, cupping your face, “Stop thinking whatever it is.” 

You looked away from him, “I caused this. I tempted you.” 

Heeseung shook his head, “Baby, look at me,” you looked up at him, “I did this of my own free will,” he slid his hands from your face and down to your waist, “I knew the consequences, and did it anyway,” he squeezed your waist, “I love you. I gave up heaven for you.” 

You wanted to fight him, to yell in his face about giving up eternity for you. But you also couldn’t help but feel so loved at this moment. That this angel found love with you and was willing to give up everything for you. 

Heeseung kissed you, pulling you between his legs, and deepening the kiss. 

“Heeseung,” you said, pulling away from him, “You’re injured, you need to rest.” 

“No,” he shook his head, pulling you down into the bed and towering over you, “I’ve waited,” he said, his eyes growing lustful and his fingers tearing into your shirt and ripping it in half, pulling it off your body, “so damn long,” sliding his hands down to your shorts, looping his fingers in and pulling them down, taking your panties down with, “to have you like this.” 

Heeseung kicked your legs apart with his knees, leaning up straight to unbutton and unzip his black slacks, wiggling them off his body, leaving him in his boxers. You pulled yourself up on your elbows, opening your mouth to protest that this could wait. But Heeseung wasn’t having any of it. He connected his lips back to yours, his hands cupping your breasts and loving the way you moaned into his mouth. 

“Oh hell baby,” he said between kisses, “I love how these feel between my fingers.” 

You kept your lips attached to his as if your life depended on it, bucking your hips up onto his. 

Heeseung trailed his lips down to your neck, squeezing your breasts then sliding them behind to unhook your bra, sending the fabric off somewhere in the apartment. 

Heeseung lifted himself back up, tearing down at your bare body. So perfect. So beautiful. So his. 

“You’re so perfect,” he whispered, connecting his forehead to yours, tracing his fingertips down your body and stopping at your cunt, slowly pushing his fingers in, “So wet,” he groaned, rubbing his hard cock against your thigh, “Hmm I can’t wait to feel your cunt wrapped around me.” 

You giggled at him, “Angels don’t say such dirty things,” you teased. 

“Yeah?” he smirked, plunging his fingers in and out faster, “Angels don’t finger this good, do they?” 

You squirm underneath him, rolling your hips in sync with his fingers. Pushing your head back into your pillows and aches your back. 

You gasped out at the loss of his fingers, watching as he pulled the remainder of his clothing off him. His hard cock was red and angry. Precum dripping from his tip.

Heeseung gripped both your thighs, pushing them to your chest, “Angels don’t do what I am fixing to do to you,” he smirked, lining his cock up to your entrance. With a deep breath, he pushed himself inside you. Heeseung’s moans fill the apartment along with your own. 

His grip on your thighs tightened, his nails digging into the skin. He pulled his hips back and pushed forward. Picking up his pace and pounding into you like a madman. His pupils were blown out and his breaths were unsteady. This. This was what he gave up heaven for. To feel your cunt wrapped around his cock. This was the real heaven. 

“See, darling,” he groans, throwing his head back, “Angels don’t fuc-fuck this good,” he looked back down at you, loving your fucked out expression and how your hands gripped your bedsheets. Mouth slack as sweet moans spill from your lips. It turned you on so bad hearing Heeseung talk this way. To feel him so balls deep in your pussy, “Thank god I am not an angel, huh?” 

Heeseung was the definition of looks like an angel but fucks like a demon. With the way he pistoned into you, the grip on your thighs, the dirty words leaving his mouth that you’ve never heard him say before tonight…Heeseung was never meant to stay an angel. 

You continued to moan out with each of his hard thrusts, your core growing tight and threatening to snap at any moment, “Fuck you feel so good,” he breathes, “Moan my name baby,” he snaked his fingers to your clit, rubbing it aggressively, “Cum around my cock, I know you want to.” 

You bit your lip, arching your back more at his touch, jaw going slack as you chanted his name. Chanting his name as if he were god and you were his follower. Your core snapping, your orgasm releasing around him and onto your bedsheets, “Fuck yes, baby,” he smiles, pumping himself even faster inside you, “Can’t believe I’ve waited this long to fuck you. Should have done it the night we met. Should have fucked this cunt, should have ruined you. Claimed you as mine from the beginning. Oh fuck—“

Heeseung’s body shuddered, cock twitching, “I’m fixing to cum baby,” he bit his lip, looking down and watching how his cock slides in and out, in and out, “Oh dear god, I’m cumming. Oh fuck I’m cumming.” 

He kept his eyes locked on your pussy as he came, watching how his seed leaked from your hole as he continued to pump inside of you, milking his cock between your walls. 

Heeseung fell on top of your body, his head resting on your chest as he steadied himself and caught his breath, wrapping his arms underneath you. 

Heeseung spent his whole life being good and doing good. Never once being selfish or doing any selfish acts. Until you. You pulled this high-ranking angel down to his knees. Making him for once, want to be selfish. To do something for himself. To live freely and be free. To love and fuck you with every ounce of his being. 

He was so in love with you and you were so worth getting his wings taken away from him. It's so worth his immortality being stripped. 

Heeseung looked up at you, “Want to know a secret?” You tilted your head at him, waiting for him to continue, “I knew it would happen eventually. I wasn’t truly happy up there. My brothers and God knew it too. It was a matter of time before I fucked up and got caught,” he leaned himself up on his elbows, “I wanted it to happen. Because I wanted to be with you so bad. I knew they’d strip my wings. Take my immortality. Yeah, I enjoyed my wings and being immortal, but I wanted you so much more than that.” 

You cupped his face, “My fallen angel,” 

He placed a kiss on your lips, “I love you, YN.” Heeseung wrapped your legs around his waist, slowly moving again, “And I so love fucking this pussy.” 

You giggled, bracing your hands onto his biceps, “I love you too, even if you gave everything up for me.” 

Heeseung rested his forehead on yours, slowly fucking into you, “And I’d do it over and over again, all for you.”

—perm taglist: @alvojake @ikeuverse @woniebae @shawnyle @kangnina @jwnghyuns @in-somnias-world @zyvlxqht @aaa-sia @wonniethepoo @addictedtohobi @eneiyri @sparklovespink @skzenhalove @fakeuwus @cherry-park @vousty @ladyartemesia @criminalyun @cmoundiamante @enhaverse713586 @wondipity @lhsvibez @belowbun @jaeyunq @rikizm @kaykay11sworld @pockettwinzz @vixialuvs @seunghancore @enha-cafe @ohdeerhee @sunpov @zeeloveshee @hxxsxxng @moonrisearies @brownsugarbaybee

[rastronomicals]

6:27 PM EST January 4, 2025:

High on Fire - "Cometh Down The Hessian" From the album Blessed Black Wings (February 1, 2005)

Last song scrobbled from iTunes at Last.fm

Love that Arik Roper artwork.

[daycourtofficial]

Tell me I’m the only, only, only, only one - part three

Pairing: Eris x reader x Azriel | WC: 3.3k | warnings: general angst, some violence

Summary: after a week of avoiding talking to him, Azriel invites you out for a meeting that only leaves you with a more urgent sense of jealousy

Author’s note: happy new year’s eve!! I know it hasn’t been too long since the last part, but I wanted to spread some holiday joy! This year has been awful but my time online and the friends I’ve met through here have been so lovely and kind and you guys have gotten me through a lot do here’s some pain!

Last part | Next part | Masterlist

Your conversation with Nesta left you reeling, some deep part of you rattled at her words. A deep loneliness settled in you after she left, a swirling storm of anger and jealousy threatening to fester into a hurricane out on the balcony.

‘He’s a challenge on his best days.’

Why had the Mother given her most loyal follower a mate who was so difficult? Weren’t mates supposed to be a blessing?

Rhys and Feyre, Nesta and Cassian - they all had their own fair share of turbulence. You remembered the stories from Mor about Feyre throwing her shoes at Rhysand, or Nesta’s seemingly complete apathy around Cassian.

The journals left you confused, both smitten and giddy and a deep questioning of should it be this hard? Azriel and Eris had already seen the worst of each other and still chose and defended their bond. Would the same be said of you if Azriel saw your faults? Or would one flawed mate be enough for him?

Would another fae be able to look past your status as a second choice? Would you be able to even look at other fae if Azriel rejected you?

It had only been a few weeks since the bond had snapped for you, but in that time you didn’t notice other fae. They were just background characters, no one in particular ever catching your notice.

Except Eris. That was nothing though - merely Azriel’s feelings about him swirling within you.

None of it made any sense, your body subconsciously leaving the balcony and moving to find Azriel, repeating to yourself that an answer laid in one of his journals. You stopped by your room to gather the journal before following the bond to find the shadowsinger alone in the library. He looked incredible - his large wings stretched out over the black leather, the definition of his body evident through his loose fitting clothes. He was hunched over a small table, flipping through a book and jotting things down on the paper next to him. All your time spent reading this past week made his handwriting a familiar sight.

“Hi Az.” You stopped before him, presenting him with your most recently finished journal. This one had contained much the same - fighting between Eris and Azriel, occasional snippets about Cassian and his drunken antics. It seemed Eris and Azriel were in a constant cycle of never getting too close, one or the other always finding some fault to keep their distance.

He accepted it wordlessly, the replacement journal ready in his lap. How you hadn’t noticed it says more about the focus of your attention than you would like.

“Expecting me?”

“You usually find me around this time.” He huffed, the slight smile on his face enough to know he’s being light hearted. You took the new journal, about to turn on your heel when you spotted the empty chair next to Azriel. You waited a moment, turning back to find him still looking at you. Your chest felt tight with vulnerability, looking back to the empty chair, something inside of you begging to sit in his presence.

It felt like a good sign finding him in the open. You usually found him in his room, his door closed in front of you once the exchange was made. But now he sat on display, his own work spread out before him. You weren’t certain you had ever seen him work so openly.

You took the sign as an invitation, sitting in a chair opposite him, the spine a harsh crack in the silent room. He did nothing more than watch, hazel eyes tracking the delicacy and respect you showed to the journal before looking back to his own notes.

It was silent save for the turning of pages and his scrawling. It felt so warm being in his presence, sharing this time with him. It was so easy to get lost in it that the next time you looked up you realized he had pulled out a fresh journal, scribbling away in it. It was a cleaner version of the one you spent every night hunched over, staying up until the last word was comprehensible to your sleep-addled brain.

“Have you ever done that in front of someone before?” You croaked the words out, throat dry from your lack of water in hours, too afraid if you got up, your return would show an empty room.

“No, I haven’t.” His scrawl hadn’t stopped, and you straightened up, trying to catch a glance of what he was writing, if your name made an appearance. Shadows swirled at the top of his journal, obscuring your vision. You looked at the shadow, a cross expression trying to threaten them. They only seemed to dance more rapidly, in agitation or preening beneath your gaze, you weren’t sure.

“None of that.”

You sank back deflated, surprised you were caught. Picking up the journal once more, you flicked to the page you had left off at, settling back in.

“You’ll see this one soon enough.” The book snapped shut at his words as you readjusted to sit back up.

“I will?” Azriel only nodded, finally looking up at you instead of the pages of his journal. His eyes darted around the room before a shadow curled around his ear. Whatever the shadow told him, he relaxed a little, his posture easing into his seated position.

“I gave them to you to understand Eris and I’s relationship. But I think it’s impossible to figure out this situation without getting completely up to date.”

You nearly salivated at the thought of Azriel’s present journals. To know what he’s thought about you this whole time, in his own words, even without knowing about the bond? Priceless.

He had said he had been interested in you, drawn to you.

Azriel smiled, a soft pulsing of the thread around your heart. Tonight had been a step forward - you didn’t want to push your luck and find out if he was pulling the cord tight in reassurance or suffocation. You kept the question to yourself, nestling into the chair and the comfort of Azriel’s scent.

-

Mindless chatter moved across the breakfast table, your eyes constantly flickering to Azriel. It was impossible to keep them off of him, his emotions roiling in your chest kept you up half the night once you had retired from the library. You had been avoiding him for a week now, and the hours spent in his company reminded you of just how nice it was to linger in his presence.

This past week had been an anomaly, one you weren’t certain your friends had noticed or not. Azriel was usually a source of company at some point during your day - a meal, transportation, or just someone to go out walking Velaris with you.

If this past week showed you anything, it was how ingrained into your daily life Azriel had become.

You looked at him again, your eyes lingering on the lack of sleep beneath his eyes. He was tired. You couldn’t pinpoint it exactly- it wasn’t in his face or in his movements. Was it the bond? Was it your late night insomnia that kept him up?

Could mating bonds do that?

“Azriel, what time are you leaving?” Rhys’s question brought you from your focused gaze, waiting to hear Azriel’s response. So focused on Azriel, you hadn’t bothered pretending to even eat or notice Cassian’s glances to his own mate.

“I’m leaving in the afternoon.” Azriel’s head turned to you, his hazel eyes capturing yours in a gaze you couldn’t look away from. Where was he going? You had been so wrapped up in your thoughts you had missed the beginning of the discussion.

“I think it would be better if you came with me.” The table had turned quiet, the clattering of cutlery pausing for just a moment, all eyes slowly directed your way, waiting for your response.

So they’ve noticed this weirdness between you two.

“Are you sure, Az?” Azriel didn’t look away from you at Rhysand’s question, merely waiting for your response. Something in you was drawn to his gaze, wanting to linger in it for the rest of your days. His eyes held such softness, a look he reserved just for you.

And his other mate. The bitter thought made you grimace. Azriel and Eris had something real, something tangible that they fought for every single day.

But surely the moments in the library were also real. Not as intense or passionate, but full of a warmth you had hardly experienced before, a domesticity many would dream about.

“Yes, I will. Where are we going?”

Azriel was quick to answer, one of his shadows nearly muffling Rhysand’s voice so Azriel could be the one to respond.

“I have a meeting with Eris.” You were too focused on Azriel’s face to notice Nesta’s eyes widen imperceptibly on the other side of the table.

-

Your fingers tapped against your thigh, an anxiety coursing through you at the thought of seeing Eris again. He was something - a sharp face, even sharper tongue, decadently dressed. You hated to admit it, but you could understand why the Mother had mated him to Azriel - the two were quite possibly the most gorgeous fae in all of Prythian.

You had stayed up late again pouring over Azriel’s journals. Each notebook left you more and more territorial over him, romance pouring through every page. It was so different from the books Nesta read - the fictitious couple having grandiose gestures, no depiction of how the day to day worked.

But Azriel’s notebook was filled with longing for Eris. Recaps of long conversations they have had, almost word for word detailings of what they spoke about.

They had been together for a little over a century by now. They both fought it - Azriel all but withdrew from his family, avoiding them for over a year while he figured it out.

It took nearly a decade for them to come to terms with it - one of them never quite ready to dive in, both playing the hesitant role at different points.

It seemed one day Eris just snapped. Tired of talking in circles and exhausting every avenue, he went for it. He kissed Azriel and it spiraled from there, consummating the bond. It was a romantic tale of longing and distance and overcoming any and all odds for each other.

A story you had no business playing a part in.

Azriel pulled you from your thoughts, reaching out a hand to winnow the pair of you away. You took it, remembering all too well the last time you were gathered in his arms.

You both rematerialized in a densely packed forest, the trees so close together it was difficult to move between. You steadied yourself against Azriel, hands pressed to his broad chest. Winnowing yourself anywhere wasn’t an issue, but someone else winnowing you left you unmoored, your feet unable to find solid ground for a few seconds. The bond tightened around your heart, the beat of it speeding up at the contact.

“Come to gloat?” Your head whipped towards Eris as you yanked your hands from Azriel’s chest. You didn’t notice Azriel bringing his hands back up, reaching for you, trying to keep you close.

But Eris did. He schooled his features, looking toward Azriel with hardened eyes.

“No, I brought her so we can figure this out.”

Eris scoffed, the sound loud enough to be heard over the bird song high above the group. He stomped forward in a direct path towards Azriel, a trail of smoke in his wake.

His long red hair flowed behind him as he moved, reflecting the light of the sun so beautifully the homes of the Autumn Court could be full of portraits of the male before you and his beauty would still surprise. Your heart hammered in your chest, unable to look away from him.

“I’m sure that’s exactly what you’ve been up to this past week. Trying to figure this out with her, shutting off your bond to me.” The last words came out as a whisper, the underlying accusation one Eris couldn’t bear to say. He looked almost hurt as he said it.

“Er-“ Eris cut Azriel off, pushing his back into a tree, his hands curling into the leathers. Your feet followed the action, a hot sense of protectiveness overcoming you.

“No, Azriel. You don’t get to play house with her and show up here with her.”

“She can hear you, ya know.” You pushed Eris off of Azriel, the male staggering back in shock at your actions.

“How sweet. What a waste of my time to be here if you’re going to tell me you’ve finally picked someone else when you’ve had a century to do so.”

Azriel reached out for Eris, his grip tight around Eris’s forearm. Eris tried to push Azriel away from him, but his hand remained around Eris. He pulled the redhead closer, his thumb slowly stroking over his mate’s skin. It felt so intimate you wanted to look away.

“Eris, I am not picking her. I am trying to figure this out.” Azriel’s words stung, no matter how pragmatic they were. A teeny, tiny part of you wanted to blurt out to Eris about the journals, certain it would send the Autumn male out of your life for good. The action stayed in your mind at the betrayal Azriel would feel.

Some part of you knew something so hurtful would end in Azriel having no mates.

“‘Figure this out’? What is there to figure out? Which one of us you would pick?”

“No!” Azriel’s rebuttal was frantic, his lack of sleep more prominent now in the sunlight. It didn’t stop the sun from highlighting how gorgeous his brown skin was, though. “Can’t you think past your own self for five minutes and realize my soul, my entire being is connected to the both of you?”

The words did something to Eris, causing him to finally look at you. You couldn’t help the heat rushing to your cheeks beneath his gaze, a small part of you hoping he finds something interesting. You straightened, taking the time to look over him as well. It was nearly unfair how good he looked in his riding clothes. His shirt opened just enough to see his collarbone and the top of his sternum, his pale chest decorated with freckles. His loose, billowy shirt tucked into some well fitting trousers, thighs nearly ripping the fabric.

He wasn’t as big as Azriel - a bit shorter and not nearly as broad, but he was lean and strong, and you were certain they both threw each other around the bedroom with ease.

“I suppose severing this bond would mean lifelong consequences for you.” Eris spoke to Azriel, but kept his gaze on you as he walked toward you. Heat crept up your body the closer he got, each step raising the temperature by ten degrees. It was nearly unbearable by the time he stood in front of you, so close you had to look up at him.

Eris’s anger made him more beautiful - the sharpness of his face poised and ready for attack, the red shades of anger perfectly matching his skin and hair.

Heat coursed around your neck, the flames dancing across your skin. You were enraptured with Eris, this moment only for the two of you. You could hear Azriel start to object, but paid him no notice, your full attention on Eris.

“I could end it all now, remove the most painful thorn in my side you’ve been.”

You smiled up at him, overcome with a new feeling of competition. The flames around your neck tightened, but you kept on, stepping infinitesimally closer to Eris.

“If my mere existence is a pain to you now, just wait until I’ve decided you’re worth the effort to bother. You’ve only known me for a week and already I’m worth your ire.”

“Go home to Velaris. Go be a small town healer and find a small town male for you to fake your orgasms with.”

Your jaw dropped and you felt Azriel’s hands wrap around your upper arms, trying to pull you back, but you rooted yourself to the ground, pulling from his grasp.

“At least my constituents will look me in the eye out of respect and not fear. At least my patients know I had to work for my job and that I wasn’t given it because of my father!”

The flames were choking now, your breaths coming in hard and shallow. You were trying to fight it, to win whatever this was, but breathing harder and harder, fresh air a luxury you couldn’t remember.

“Eris!” Azriel all but growled as he wrapped his arms around your torso, pulling you into him. You reached up, trying to pull the collar off, tried to get any air, but it was impossible.

“The Mother is absurd for mating Azriel with someone so foolish who speaks of things she knows nothing about.” Eris relinquished his power as you sagged into Azriel’s arms, but Eris cupped a hand around your jaw. His eyes burned with fury and something you couldn’t quite make out, the amber color replaced with the blown pupils of his ire.

“Az, come back to me when you’ve decided the bitch isn’t worth your time.”

Chest heaving, you squared your jaw, a rebuttal on your tongue, but Eris had turned, walking into the trees before disappearing completely into them.

He was everything Nesta had warned you he was. He was cruel, difficult, and maddening.

And if the Mother wanted Azriel to pick one of you, you would do whatever it took to beat out Eris Vanserra for Azriel’s affections.

You’re stuck so deep in your head, you don’t even notice Azriel winnow the two of you back to the House of Wind, the two of you landing in the dining room. You turned to ask him about Eris, to talk to him about how ridiculous his mate was, but Azriel had dropped your arm, winnowing away immediately after. Your hand instinctively reached out for the shadows, but it was too late.

He was gone and he left you here.

You sighed, not knowing what you expected him to do. Coddle you? Tell you Eris didn’t mean his threats? Tell you Eris is a big meanie head?

You shook the thought away, your steps soft as you made your way through the house, a journal calling your name to pour through.

Your adrenaline was wearing off, the grime of the forest stuck to your clothes making the bathtub’s siren song call to you from many rooms away.

“How was your meeting with Eris?” Nesta’s voice found you as you were about to climb the stairs, one foot raised. You spun on your heel to look at her, her face indecipherable. Just his name filled you with anger and confusion once more. How was it him that had received Azriel’s affections?

“He’s worse than you made him seem. Vile and cruel, just like everyone says.” You spat the words at her, not receiving the reaction you wanted from her. Nesta only raised her eyebrows as her nose twitched.

“Are you sure?” Your anger had flared too much to notice her strange tone or the look in her eye.

“I’m positively certain. Anyone having to spend time with that awful, awful male is a saint or somehow even worse than he is.”

She approached you, her eyes lingering on your neck. You weren’t certain if you had scorch marks or not, unsure if Eris’s wickedness scarred. She was quiet as she looked at you, eyes of silver intense as they locked onto yours. You weren’t sure if she found what she was looking for or not before she brushed past you to go to her own chambers, her words quiet in the stillness of the house.

“If you say so.”

Divider by @tsunami-of-tears

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[cherryheairt]

Dragon Dreamer pt. III

tags: @beebeechaos

Daenys avoiding her problems per usual

all feedback appreciated <3, I'm unsure how I want to write this longterm, bc the two will have to separate after the wall scene and idk if people would want chapters with just Daenys and no cregan lol

also appearently cregan's actor tom taylor has heterochromia and i think green/blue eyes but for the life of my i cannot find a clear pic of it </3

Daenys woke from her distant dreams only after the sun had risen. While still snowing and freezing outside, Morningstar had done well to warm the pair under her protective wing.

Cregan sat vigil all throughout the night, no complaints coming from the young lord as he did. Protecting the princess was simply a part of his many duties, he mused to himself sometime in the night while she whispered.

She blinked a few times, eyes heavy and body nearly numb. Though warm, she was still only clothed in house slippers and her night dress. A weight around her caught her attention, knowing that Morningstar couldn't wrap herself around Daenys like that.

"You awake, Princess?" A soft voice asked beside her.

Tilting her head up and squinting, "Cregan?" She whispered, voice horse from speaking all night.

"Good morrow, my lady," was all he said, that secret smile of his plastered on his face. She didn't know how to feel. A million things rushed to her mind; shame, humilation, frustration-

He interrupted her thoughts, shuffling to a crouch from his sitting position. Cregan offered her a hand, which she took without thinking. Leading them both out from under Morningstar, Cregan bowed his head respectfully to the she-dragon.

"She allowed you to come near us?" Daenys asked, in awe.

"Aye, I don't know why, exactly. I'm grateful for it, so I will not question a blessing." He told Daenys, reaching down to grab his sword that had been sitting on the snowbank for hours and shouldering it.

"Shall we break our fast, or would you like to sleep?" He turned to her, attentive grey eyes finding her violet ones.

Biting her cheek, she waited for the other shoe to drop. When would he demand answers from their night? Banish her from his house forever and ridding himself of the Velaryon girl.

"You should sleep, Lord Stark. I have kept you from it all night." She decided, looking at the tired expression pulling at his handsome face.

"Sleep often evades me with my duties, this is only another one. I would never sleep again if my Princess asked it of me." He told her, placing a gentle hand on her arm. "The day is new. Will you break fast with me?"

Daenys followed the lord into the dining hall. It was more active than the previous night, bustling with the activity of the Keep's servants. It only took a minute of sitting before their breakfast was in front of them, some light bread and oatmeal. Daenys greedily drank the cold water provided for her, the relief for her throat that had been burning the whole way to the Keep.

Cregan watched the display for a moment, smiling to himself before politely focusing on his food, not watching her pick at her breakfast like the previous night. "Do you want anything else? If you don't like the food, just tell me. No one will take offense, as long as you're fed."

"This is good." Daenys answered shortly. She took small bites of the oatmeal, pulling parts of the bread to slowly chew. She felt like her body was going through the motions completely on its own, her brain firing in a million different directions yet going nowhere at all.

"..Princess?" Cregan asked again, stirring her.

He had been talking for a while, she thought. Daenys hummed, gesturing for him to continue. His meal was done already, how much time had passed?

"I said I would like to take you to Castle Black, if you would allow me."

"The Wall?" Daenys furrowed her brow, placing her spoon into the half-full bowl.

"It would be a two week trip on horseback, and you can see what your predecessors witnessed all those years ago. A reminder of what the North protects the realm from."

In simple terms, he wanted to convince her to take the least amount of men to arms as possible. She was not dull. Perhaps he thought she was, just like the court men. He was talking like a Southerner, now. All hidden meanings and pretty half-truths. Disappointing, truly, Daenys liked the straightforward Stark better.

"I would not oppose a trip to see the Wall. It would be much faster on Morningstar, but I'm sure your council would oppose their lord doing such a thing." She said wryly. Daenys didn't want to become curt with the kind lord, but her displeasure with his words made itself clear in her tone

He grimaced slightly before straightening up, bowing his head politely. "I have some matters to attend to before we depart. I will have some things packed for you. For now, get some rest, we'll leave in the afternoon." He left quickly, and it was then that she noticed his fur coat was missing. She could make out his body shape now, no longer hidden and cloaked by the massive fur. When had he left them?

The weight on her own shoulders as she stood solved that question for her. The familiar brown furs surrounded her like a blanket, warm yet drowning. Was it bear? Or even wolf? Daenys wasn't sure, but her heart beated harder knowing that he had sat with her all night, keeping her safe and warm despite knowing her dragon was perfectly capable.

Daenys settled into her chambers, forgoing slipping under the furs already on her bed in exchange for the fur Cregan had provided her. It smelled like him, a deep wood and iron scent that might have been too strong and unfitting on anyone but the Warden himself. The comfort soothed her to sleep quicker than she had in many moons.

🗡

Strong hands guided Daenys through the courtyard of the Red Keep. Ser Harwin Strong, her mother's sworn protector, had become more of a protector for herself these past few moons.

When the nightmares started, the Red Keep was put ill at ease with the little girl, avoiding her like the plague. While most took after Queen Alicent, avoiding her and gossiping about how the girl must be a witch, condemning people to horrible fates with her predictions, the bolder ones like her uncle Aegon had done the opposite.

Harassments, taunts, planting some of Helena's bugs into her bed, even getting physical when no one was looking. Who would believe the mad girl besides her own mother? The prince, of course, never received any reprimanding or punishment. He always got away with everything, per usual. He had the Queen herself in his corner, who defended his vile behavior even when multiple servant girls came sobbing to the Queen's chambers.

Rhaenyra couldn't bare to watch her only daughter be so tormented, especially by her own family. She instructed Harwin to keep a close eye on her, as her escort and guardian around the keep. He had no qualms with this, of course. The girl was beloved by him and Rhaenyra deeply, though this coddling did not go unnoticed by the royal family.

Daenys' one credit as a child was her silver hair and purple hues, an image of her mother. Her brothers after her were not so lucky, born brown-eyed and brown-haired. Ser Harwin was said to be the sire of Rhaenyra's army of dragon-riding bastards, to the obliviousness of Daenys.

When she grew older, she realized that Alicent was right in that one thing. Harwin Strong undoubtedly fathered the boys. She was unclear about her own father, but Harwin's affections for her never differed from her brothers.

She found herself not minding. Ser Laenor claimed the children as his own and loved her mother as a dear companion. But Harwin's love for Rhaenyra was different than Laenor's. She saw the look in his eyes as he gazed upon the heir, filled with devotion and love unmatched by any other wed couple in the keep. Daenys had only seen such a love displayed by them. Even long after Harwin's death, when Rhaenyra remarried her uncle Daemon, Daenys never saw that look in another man's eyes.

Daemon's love was passionate but possessive. It scared Daenys slightly, but she was happy so long as her mother was safe.

This day, Daenys wished to watch her uncles and brothers training in the yard. Ser Criston Cole usually overlooked the boys' training, leaving much to be desired in terms of favoritism. Much like his Queen, Criston despised the bastard boys. Though the four trained together, Rhaenyra's sons usually only watched as Aegon and Aemond practiced with their wooden swords.

Harwin left Daenys at the steps after a gentle ruffle of her loose hair, where she quietly sat and observed. Glancing at a bench overseeing the yard, Daenys spotted King Viserys also overlooking the morning training.

Harwin spoke a few words to Ser Criston for a moment, inaudible to Daenys but clearly pissing the Dornish knight off. Cole intructed that the eldest boys be placed against each other, though it was unfair.

Harwin's protests were thus ignored by the kingsguard, Daenys perking in her seat to watch Aegon and Jace spar. Quite a poor match, seeing their age and skill difference.

Aegon easily beat Jace, knocking the sword from his hand but not giving his opponent any mercy, still stepping forward to attack the young boy.

Harwin grabbed Aegon in a firm hold, tossing him away from Jacaerys. "DON'T TOUCH ME!" Aegon screeched like a banshee, never being put in his place like that before. Spoiled brat.

Harwin scolded Cole, ignoring the eldest prince intentionally. After lifting Jace from the floor, Harwin glanced over the boy.

"Are you alright?"

Embarrassed, Jace only nodded with flushed cheeks and dusted himself off. "Thank you, Ser." He mumbled.

But Cole did not leave the matter, baiting the older knight. "You forget yourself, that is the prince." He said, a smirk on his tanned face.

"Is that what you teach, Cole? Cruelty." Harwin spat back, picking up the wooden swords from the dirt.

"Your interest in the princeling's training is quite unusual. Most men would only have that kind of devotion toward a cousin. Or a brother." He smiled brighter, "or a son."

Without skipping a beat, Harwin strong turned and swung at Cole's smug face. Again, and again until the man was on the floor and not fighting back.

Daenys stood and gasped, calling out towards her protector. "Ser Harwin!" she rushed forward, being stopped only by Jace and Luke, who could also only watch.

Harwin was dragged off of Cole, still spitting insults at the younger whilst the blood-covered man laughed as if he had won.

Aegon laughed loudly, now the loudest sound in the yard as both knights were escorted inside.

"Seems like the Strong bastards won't be so protected anymore." He snickered with Aemond at his side, loud enough for only the three to hear. Viserys took his leave, too, most likely to go settle the fight.

"We're not bastards!" Jacaerys yelled at him. Daenys and Lucerys were quiet behind him. Jace, though a year younger than Daenys, had taken the mantle of the protective one of the siblinge ever since Daenys had started getting shunned.

She was grateful for it, despite the nagging guilt she had for never defending herself or her little brothers.

"Just look at yourself, Lord Strong. Brown hair...pale skin..brown eyes. Perhaps Rhaenyra isn't your mother, either." Aegon said, earning a half-hearted laugh from Aemond beside him.

Ever the quiet of the two, Aemond faced his own bullying from Aegon and Daenys' brothers for being the only one of them to not claim a dragon. Typically, this made him stay out of any spats between Rhaenyra's children and Aegon, out of fear that he would be the next target.

Surprisingly, he even left Daenys alone. He spent much time with Helena, just as she did. They happened to spend a lot of time together in their youth because of their mutual bond, but they never gained a bond between themselves.

"You take that back!" Jace demanded, stepping foward and shoving at Aegon's chest. Being so much taller than Jacaerys, Aegon barely stepped back, only growing more amused.

"Jace.." Daenys urged behind him, tugging at his armor. "Let's go inside, I want to check on Ser Harwin."

Aegon turned to her now, "Its a mystery who your father might be. Ser Strong, Prince Daemon, Ser Laenor. I've even heard rumor of Rhaenyra having a tryst with Criston Cole at one time. Perhaps the cunt herself doesn't even know who your-" Aegon was abruptly cut off with a punch to his face so hard that he was sent to the floor. Shocked, he looked up expecting Jacaerys to have been the offender, but instead met the furious face of Daenys Velaryon. She didn't give him time to get up, punching and scratching at his pink face.

The other three stood stunned for a few moments, unsure if they wanted to let her continue or pry her off. Even Aemond stifled a laugh with a hand, turning away so Aegon couldn't notice.

Eventually Aegon grew out of his shock, easily throwing the younger girl off of him by her shoulders. Wiping his face, he stood and snarled down at Daenys, lifting a foot to kick at her while she was down, but was stopped and tackled by her two brothers. Now, Aemond choose to defend his older brother against the boys, albeit slightly reluctantly. The Pink Dread prank still heavily weighed on his mind every day.

Guards noticed at this point that the squabble of princes and the princess was no mere play fight, punches and kicks being thrown this way and that. The four of them seperated by forceful hands, given no time to walk themselves as they were dragged inside.

"Keep my mothers name out of your dirty mouth, līve!" She screamed behind her shoulder at the boy, who seemed shocked at the insult coming from her mouth. Jace and Luke, not versed in High Valyrion yet, didn't react, although she heard a snicker from Aemond as he was taken to Viserys with Aegon.

The other three were taken directly to Rhaenyra.

Rhaenyra, quietly resting on her settee with little Joffrey coddled up in her arms, was surprised to see all three of her eldest children in such a state. She stood immediately, "what happened?" She asked the guards, handing Joff to the wet nurse and gingerly cradling her children's bruised faces.

"The princess and princes got into an altercation in the yard. Ser Harwin and Cole have also been sent to the King for their actions." One said, before being dismissed by Rhaenyra.

"I want the truth of it, now." She sternly told them, stress furrowing her brows.

"Ser Harwin beat up Cole." Luke said first, giving no context.

"Because Cole called us bastards." Jace continued, clearing it.

Rhaenyra sighed, putting a hand over her stomach, which Daenys noticed became a habit during her pregnancies as a way to calm herself.

"If Harwin is the one who fought Cole, why are you three all bruised up?"

Daenys avoided her eyes, earning a lifted brow from her mother. Jace stepped in to help, "Aegon started it! He called you.." He seemed to pause now too, not wanting to shame his mother with Aegon's vileness.

The three shared glanced between themselves, not guilty for fighting Aegon but guilty for not defending their mother's honor better. "He called you a cunt. And implied dishonorable actions." Daenys told her, biting her cheek hard after. Her face hurt.

Rhaenyra only sighed, bringing her children to her side to embrace them all. She breathed in to start a surely long speech, but Harwin entering the room disrupted that plan. Daenys was grateful for it.

He closed the chamber doors behind himself, gold Lord Commander's cloak was no longer wrapped over his shoulders. His armor was also off, as if he was taking a leisure day.

"Harwin?" Rhaenyra spoke, confused as to why he was visiting in such a state.

"I am being assigned back to Harrenhall with my father. The King has let me go from my time as Lord Commander." Was his answer. Pretty words for 'fired' from his duty. Just for defending the princes and their mother.

Rhaenyra gasped, hand bringing itself once again to hover over her stomach. "For what offence?" She demanded. Her eyes were glossy with tears, but she could not let herself cry. Princesses do not cry over losing their guards.

Daenys knew then, that they were not merely protector and princess. They were husband and wife, in all but name. Harwin looked down at Rhaenyra with all the softness in the realm. "It is my own fault, I lost my temper." The two stood to the side for a minute, whispering amonst themselves. Daenys respectfully looked away, finding Jace staring them down intensely.

Harwin held Rhaenyra's face for only a moment, tender and bittersweet as they couldn't do anything more to say their goodbyes.

He turned to the children, "Luke, Jace. Keep up with your training, do not let Cole or the princes bully you out from improving. You will be fine knights." He smiled at them proudly, petting each of their heads and turning to Daenys.

Tears welled in her eyes, falling down her cheeks freely. She was not as strong as her mother, unable to control her feelings. "Ser.." She sobbed, barreling into his chest and burying her face into the tunic's material. Gently he held her, soothing her hair down from the mess it had became in the yard. "Don't fret, my dear girl. I will not be gone forever."

The smell of fire invaded her senses as he said that, a suffocating feeling enveloping her as she continued to cry. "I don't want you to leave at all." She told him.

"He must, we cannot change the will of the king." Rhaenyra said from behind her, rubbing her back soothingly. Harwin and Rhaenyra shared another heavy look, both knowing how much Daenys relied on Harwin.

Harwin had to break the princess off of him eventually, pressing a tender kiss to her temple as he did. "I will be a stranger when we meet again.' He told Rhaenyra, who only nodded and smiled solemnly at him.

Harwin Strong took his leave from the Red Keep that day, and never returned to his family.

Jace watched the man walk away, down the hall. "Is Harwin Strong my father?" He asked Rhaenyra stiffly. "Are we bastards?"

Rhaenyra swiftly looked around for any onlookers, relieved to find none. "You are Targaryens. That's what matters," she whispered firmly.

Daenys only stared at the space Harwin had once been, wishing things could stay the same forever.

"I am going to bed," she told her mother.

She wished she had not.

🗡

"My Lady?" The maid from yesterday evening woke Daenys from her deep sleep. Groggily she sat up, stretching out her stiff muscles. The cold affected her more than she thought. "Lord Stark is ready to depart. We have packed all the things you will need for the trip, I just need to get you ready."

Daenys was too tired to talk, only nodding along and allowing the older maid to dress her and do her hair. Pulled in a simple half-up braid, Daenys groaned at the thought of having to do her own braids while in the wilderness. The dress she was put in was a light blue, lined with white fur, softer than any she had felt before.

"All done, princess. He's waiting in the hall for you." She patted Daenys' shoulder in a motherly way, sending the girl off to the dining hall.

Daenys grabbed his fur coat before leaving, finding him standing in front of the hearth silently. He perked up when he spotted her, smiling almost instinctively. "Princess," he nodded. "Ready to leave?"

It was only then that she noticed a giant wolf at his feet, staring at her with bright blue eyes, contasting its brown fur. A direwolf, it must be. Tamed by the Stark? Their sigil seemed to ring true, just like the Targaryen's.

"As I'll ever be." She answered evenly, slightly looking forward to the trip. She'd never been on such a journey, only ever riding horseback for short distances and never once staying outside for more than a night. It would be interesting. "And who's this?"

"Dusk. He mostly stays outside, but I figured we could use his protection on our travels." Cregan gestured to the wolf. He seemed wild in most ways, Daenys would guess that he was when he was on his own, but Cregan being bonded to him and accustoming the animal to human domestication. Quite like the Targaryens and their dragons.

"I'm happy to have him, as long as he can get along with Morningstar." She smiled.

Hopefully she can find common ground with Lord Stark, gaining more men for the Queen.

Cregan offers Daenys his arm, which she takes as he guides her to their readied horses. "I picked out this one for you. He's a young stud, but he reminded me of Morningstar." Daenys felt her heart skip a beat when he said that, the thoughtfulness of the aftion making her smile brightly. She released his arm to pet the horse's snow-white face, greeting it.

"Thank you, my lord. He's beautiful." She said.

"Of course, princess." He kept his eyes on her a moment longer, before offering his hand again to help her mount. After adjusting herself on the saddle, Cregan mounted his own horse, a pretty chestnut mare.

Winterfell gave the two a cheerful goodbye parting, Daenys had to resist rolling her eyes. The same commonfolk who had gossiped about her yesterday were eagerly waving hankerchiefs at her and wishing their beloved princess well.

Cregan seemed amused by her stiff jaw as they walked past the gates. "Do you know what the folk call you?" He asked.

"I could think of a hundred names I've been called. None of them pleasent." She replied, eyeing him.

Above them, Morningstar glided gleefully, happy to be traveling again although she didn't know the destination.

Chuckling, he shook his head. "The Dragon Dreamer."

Stunned, she turns to look straight at him, finding his attention fully on her still.

"I..don't see why." She blushed. Never before had her visions been painted in a positive light of any kind.

"Northerners aren't so out of tune with the magic of this realm, as other kingdoms are. Have you ever heard of wargs?"

"A few times, in fairytales." She sniffed.

He nodded, "do you not believe in them?"

"Anything could be true. In a world where I ride a dragon, who am I to deny other types of magic?" She offered.

"Aye. My ancestors have dealt with magic since the first men. Stuff you wouldn't believe, out beyond the wall."

"What's beyond the wall?"

"Death."

🗡

alicent hightower you ARE the father

Līve - whore

[seouljazzbar]

selfish (m.)

𓃹𓂃𓂃𓃹𓂃𓂃𓃹𓂃𓂃𓃹𓂃𓂃𓃹𓂃𓂃𓃹

about— wonbin’s a musical prodigy, having worked alongside critically acclaimed producers, and now he’s your guest lecturer for the semester. correction, your hot lecturer for the semester (producer!wonbin x f.reader)

author’s note— this is a little rough but i still like the way it turned out! title is from this song if anyone's curious hehe i think it's wonbin coded lowkey

warning— language, teacher-student dynamic, me blatantly lying about new york/nyu, alcohol use, (soft?) dirty talk, fingering (f. receiving), whiny wonbin, oral (m. receiving), teasing, penetrative sex (with a condom!!) 18+ MDNI!!!

word count— 5.3k

Thursdays and Fridays from four to six, those were his office hours. It was difficult to have office hours that fit everyone’s schedule and that was the best he could do given he was only a guest lecturer. Even worse, he wasn’t given an office for said hours due to the deconstructed nature of the city. Going to university in New York was already far from traditional, and the conditions were no exception. But Wonbin didn’t mind, reserving a nice table on the second floor of Gregory's coffee on Broadway. It wasn't much but it was enough for the four or five students who took advantage of the time.

You were one of them. You knew all too well the struggle of falling behind in a class by thinking you had a handle on the material, only to be drowning in confusion come midterms. The class, The Sociology of Pop Music, interested you too much for you to risk completely flopping just because you failed to utilize your resources. But it wasn’t just your grade that you cared about. It helped that the guest lecturer in question was unbelievably sexy, an absolute dreamboat wunderkind who was just barely older than the students he was in charge of. 

Park Wonbin, musician to the stars. He’d worked with countless acclaimed producers, written for most of the Billboard Hot 100 artists, and even put out his own flawless body of work that gifted him one Grammy and several nominations. He was an absolute icon at the ripe age of twenty-two and you were dying to sink your claws into him. Soft and athletic, inky black waves, a bashful smile and a voice that the heavens surely blessed him with. His presence was more distracting than conducive for your precious six-figure education, your thighs clenching together every Tuesday and Thursday that he took his place at the professor’s podium.

But you weren't the only one. Nearly everyone in the class was crushing on him, eyes batting as they asked elementary questions and giggles erupting at even his worst attempts at jokes. You felt like a dime a dozen lusting after him, gnawing your lower lip at the way his back muscles flexed when he turned to write something on the board. Get a grip, you’d think to yourself. You’re fighting for a slot on a list of many. 

So you amused yourself with your self-labeled delusion, daydreaming about him outside of class and showing up to his office hours to clear up even the smallest of questions about the week’s lectures. He was careful with every word, taking his time to cultivate thorough responses to any and all questions you thought up for him, even ones that stemmed outside of the class's margins. 

You still remember the first time you saw him, your jaw nearly dropping to the floor as he entered the lecture hall like any other student. Except he headed straight for the front of the room, placing his bag down at a table near the podium where the staff chaperone was setting up. He picked up the small expo marker that sat on the table, taking off the cap to write wonbin on the white board in messy penmanship before he followed it up with a squiggly smiley face. You knew who he was, his name notorious in the music wing of your school considering what he’d accomplished at such a young age. His looks definitely didn’t hurt, either.

He smiled at you, sitting in the second row waiting for class to start. Most people opted to sit as far back as possible, in the seats that were easier to slip out of the classroom unnoticed. But you sat proudly in the second row, alongside a few other eager students who’d heard good things about the class. His smile felt so personal, the glint of his teeth nearly causing heart palpitations as you smiled back. He didn’t know your name just yet, and suddenly that was your life’s mission; to make this man say your name.

It almost made you think he was giving you special attention with the way he paid close attention to you, his eyes lighting up whenever you came around the coffee shop steps with your notes in tow. He’d even stay past six o’clock if there were too many people before you who needed help, always offering to buy you a cup of coffee or a pastry after having waited for so long. He was so attentive, leaning into your space to look over the notes you took and making sure you were following along correctly. It was hard not to drool over him, especially when you were two of the last people left on the second floor, looking like a couple to the onlooking world. 

“I’m serious! I think I’m gonna ask him out.”

Winter rolled her eyes, closing the magazine that she was never really reading in the first place. "So, what? You'll fuck his brains out in his office and then walk into class like nothing happened?"

"Actually, he doesn't have an office." The thought made you blush, sneaking around with Wonbin while your classmates and professors were none the wiser. The taboo was too hot for you to let go of.

Another roll of her eyes, this time meant for you to see. "___, get a grip. You're just slobbering all over him because he's famous. At the end of the semester, you'll go back to eyeing that one saxophonist."

Winter was numb to the novelty surrounding celebrity and the likes of it. She was a not so struggling artist whose parents funded her entire lifestyle, and it had been that way her whole life. She'd had her fair share of moments in Page Six, and the lavish New York socialite life had grown old for her. Her friends were still in the scene, but she had long since retired. Winter's idea of a fun Friday night these days included watching The White Lotus while experimenting with cookie recipes (with hopes of making it into the NYT Christmas Cookie lineup, of course).

You didn’t tell any of your college friends, though. Sure, the whole university knew that he was guest-teaching a music-related course and that he was unbelievably attractive, but you never mentioned to your friends that you felt something between the two of you. As much as you trusted your small circle of friends, you knew that student-teacher relationships were absolutely prohibited, no exceptions. Knowing this did nothing to quell the insatiable thirst you had for him, or the flutter of your heart every time he locked eyes with you. You were willing to throw caution to the wind for him, knowing you officially had it bad for him the moment you started doodling his name in your notebook. It got to the point where you were ready to make your move, ready to invite him to an apartment party one of your friends was throwing. 

It was a Thursday evening, another night of attending his office hours despite your ninety-five percent in the class. You were the last student left in the final minutes of his office hours, just the two of you at the moderately sized table of the café. Your hands were mere centimeters from touching where they were laid out on the table, his warmth radiating onto you as he penciled in some helpful reminders in the margins of your notes. Just as you parted your lips to speak, he interjected. “I think it would be best if you stopped coming to office hours.”

That was not what you were expecting him to say. “Oh, um. Alright. Can I ask why?”

“You’ve clearly got an amazing grip on the material, and if anything you’re wasting your time showing up so frequently. It would be better if I had the full two hours for the students who are really struggling.” He refused to look you directly in the eyes as he spoke, opting to stare at your notes instead.

“Oh. Okay.” You gathered up all of your notes and pencils as quickly as you could, shoving them into your backpack without caring if the edges curled. The chair skidded back as you stood from it, not bothering with a goodbye as you saw yourself out. It was humiliating, almost, for him to have given you such a backhanded compliment. You started ruffling through your attendance record in the class and decided that you could afford to miss Tuesday, too embarrassed to be seen by him so soon after.

You really dodged a bullet there, then. Just seconds away from making a move on him when he told you that you should stop showing up to the only semi-private time you had together. It made you feel more delusional than ever before, allowing yourself to think he might actually feel something for you, too. You ignored the tears of frustration teasing the corners of your eyes, running off to the subway station that would deliver you back to your lousy campus housing safely.

What you didn’t see, however, was Wonbin nervously pulling at the ends of his hair. He was always such a bad liar but he knew he needed to put on the performance of a lifetime in order to get you to leave him alone. Considering it was quite the opposite of what he wanted you to do. There was something so intoxicating about you, your voice, your lips, your scent, that had him thoroughly fucked for you. Legally, he didn’t feel bad about it. But the professor he was working under, as well as the university, had already told him that under no circumstances was he to have dalliances with any of the students. So there he was, stuck thinking about you and not being able to do anything about it.

He had everything under control, at first. A few stolen glances during class but nothing to raise suspicion, just long enough for it to seem casual. Then it was finding you on social media, careful not to like any posts or to actually follow you, which made him feel like he was in full creeper mode. That was where he decided to draw the line until you started showing up to his office hours consistently, just as gorgeous as ever as you plopped down next to him in full concentration. He let himself indulge for a while, showering you with just a bit of special treatment until he realized he was crossing into dangerous territory. So he drew the line without a second thought.

You felt like you were back in high school, throwing a fit over being rejected by your longtime crush. All he’d done was politely ask you not to attend office hours anymore, but it felt like he’d told you off. You tried to convince yourself that it was because of your education, that you didn’t appreciate him taking away a resource that was proving itself helpful for you. But the real reason, the one you didn’t want to admit, was that you knew he felt it too. The storybook surge of electricity when his shoulder brushed yours and the way he never offered to get any of the other students coffee and pastries. The way he’d sometimes call you by a nickname when you were together or the way he spoke so highly of you in your exam notes. It was more than a one-sided schoolgirl crush and he was denying it just the same as you, and you couldn’t ignore how much it stung.

Saturday night was your chance to forget all about it. A friend of Winter's had convinced her to open up her ridiculously large penthouse for a laidback party, and she reluctantly agreed. You went to the party having skipped Wonbin’s office hours the evening before, successfully resisting the urge to 'drop by' the coffee shop casually; that would've been worse than just going to office hours. You were ready to let loose, your body a bit tense after the marathon overthinking session you had when Wonbin all but rejected you. All done up in one of your favorite ‘going out’ getups, you set yourself at a three drink maximum before starting the trek there.

You arrived considerably late, the party in full swing by the time you stepped off the elevator and onto the floor. There were so many people, sweaty bodies and intoxicated breaths, so much so that you almost missed him. He was leaning up against one of the kitchen countertops, nursing a drink of his own as he chatted with your friends. You couldn’t help but roll your eyes at the sight, almost annoyed that you ran in the same circles. But you pushed it aside to go talk to them, knowing they’d have a drink in your hand faster than you could make one. “___! You made it!” Wonbin’s eyes shot up to you making your way over to them, a raspy ‘fuck’ making its way off of his tongue. He suddenly felt trapped, nowhere to run as his student joined his little conversation circle. “Have you met Wonbin?”

“Yeah, we know each other. From around.” You avoided his gaze at all costs. “I need a drink.”

Wonbin quirked an eyebrow at you, “You drink?”

“Yeah, is that a problem?”

He cleared his throat awkwardly, shifting his weight to the other foot as he avoided eye contact with you. “I just, you know… Are you old enough for that?”

“Ew, don’t be gross. I’m a uni student, I’m not in daycare. I’m twenty-one, promise.”

You were baiting him, and he knew it. Your anger was directed at him and only him, your bubbly demeanor intact for your friends as you caught each other up on the last month or so of your lives. You had no intention of making this night, or his life, easy. You knocked back the drink your friend Sohee gave you easily, sending Wonbin a sarcastic wink as he stared at you.

Even though your mind was begging you to run, you refused to let him ruin your night. They were your friends, too, and things were only awkward because he made them so. You stood your ground, pretending like he wasn’t even there as the conversation ebbed and flowed naturally, the party music seeming to follow suit. Everything was fine until someone who’d had too many came barreling into the kitchen, spilling their sticky spiked punch all over your legs. You let out a curse as it spilled into your shoes, the sensation far too uncomfortable to ignore.

“Here, go clean up in my bathroom.” Winter handed you the key, sending you off with a gentle shove in the direction of her bedroom.

You didn’t bother locking the door back behind you, knowing you’d be in and out before anyone could miss you. You took the time to freshen yourself up as well, poking around in Winter’s cabinets to see if she had anything exciting or ridiculously expensive. Perfumes, hand creams, serums. Sometimes you forget how rich New Yorkers could be. You turned the light off in the bathroom, turning to leave when you nearly jumped out of your skin at the pair of eyes watching you. “What the hell are you doing in here?”

“You didn’t lock the door back.”

Wonbin crossed further into the room, hands in his pockets as he watched you. Even when you were irritated with him, his charm was able to cut through your faux harsh exterior. “I'm sorry, is this allowed? Or does this count as office hours, too? Should I see myself out so that other partygoers can take advantage of your precious time?”

“___, stop. I was just trying to make a decision based on what I thought was best.”

You scoffed at that, trying to ignore just how close he’d gotten to you. “Yeah, right. There’s only like five people who bother showing up anymore, so I don’t know why me showing up is such a big deal? Like you must think awfully highly of yourself if you th—”

He cut you off with a swift kiss, lips finding yours in the pale lighting of the bedroom as you froze. Time seemed to slow; just barely noticeable, but you could feel it. Like one minute felt like two with his hands cupping your cheeks and his hips pressed against yours. You relaxed into his touch, daring to kiss back as the party outside seemed to disappear. All your senses could focus on was him and the way he seemed to consume you.

He walked you backwards, stopping as you stumbled into a wall. The once innocent kiss grew in desperation, your hands everywhere at once as your  tongues clashed over and over again. It could’ve easily been a dream with how much you’d both had to drink, the taste of tequila fresh on his lips as you begged for more. Your leg hooked around his waist to draw him closer, a gasp slipping from your lips as you felt how hard he was through his jeans. And then he just stopped.

“Fuck, I shouldn’t have done that.” He was breathless, his words not matching his desire as he slowly backed away from you. “This is exactly what I was trying so hard to avoid. I'm your superior, ___, I'd get fired for this.”

Your mind was blank, not a single thought worthy of being voiced in response to him. You knew it was wrong, knew his position could be terminated, but you didn’t care. Not when his touch was so addictive and your name sounded so sweet on his lips.

“This… this never happened, okay? And it can never happen again.”

He stalked off to rejoin the party, leaving you breathless and unsure of if any of that was real. The only evidence was the faint waft of his cologne that stayed behind, taunting you with the memory of his kiss. His soft, heated, spine-tingling kiss that had your head spinning from the feeling of it. Your lips were puffy from it, fingers reaching up to touch them delicately as if you could scare away the feeling somehow. 

Your thoughts were interrupted by him coming back in, locking the door behind him as you fixed your hunched over posture. “Fuck it, fuck this job, I don’t need to be a guest lecturer.” His hands found your hips as he pulled you in once again, kissing you with much different intent behind it. “This is all I've been able to think about this semester.”

You let out a whimper, clawing at his shirt as his teeth pulled at your lower lip. His hands smoothed their way up your body, cupping your breasts through the material of your shirt as you moaned into his mouth. This felt real, no doubt in your mind as you melted like putty in his hands. “Do something.”

His lips migrated to your ear, licking along the shell of it as your head tipped back. “Do you want my fingers?” You nodded sheepishly, cheeks flooding with heat in a sudden wave of shyness. “Then spread your legs for me, baby.” Your body obeyed him without question, legs spreading for him to slip his hand between. He could feel how wet you were through the pants you were wearing, your underwear no match for the arousal he was responsible for. Your fingers fumbled with the button of them, popping it open and dragging the zipper down.

You knew this was a bad idea. Whether you cared or not, having his hand slip past your panties was wrong on so many levels, no matter how good it felt. His reputation and your academic career were on the line, but you couldn’t will yourself to stop him. Not when your body was yearning for more, thighs clenching at the circles he was rubbing against your clit. Not with his lips scaling your neck with kisses that only made your knees weaker than they already were.

Your resolve finally melted when he slipped a finger into your warm heat, the stretch easily out-rivaling anything your own fingers provided. The relief sent you into a spiral of high pitched sighs and moans as he added another, curling them near perfectly against your g-spot.

“Sound so pretty for me, baby. Wanna put your moans in a song.” The thought alone made your stomach twist, visions of riding him in his studio while he held his microphone up to your lips. He could see the shift in your expression at the suggestion, teeth practically destroying your lower lip. “Is that what you want, baby? Wanna be my muse?”

All you could do was nod as the heel of his palm pressed against your clit, your orgasm crashing over you much sooner than you expected. He kissed you through the waves of pleasure, swallowing the pleas of his name and the whimpers from the slight overstimulation of your clit. The cherry on top, though, was when he licked his fingers clean of your arousal without once breaking eye contact. It made you shudder.

Neither one of you knew where to go from that moment on, the heat of it all long gone as you faced reality head on. You zipped your pants back up to break the silence, fluffing your hands through your hair to alleviate any signs of sexual activity before rejoining the party. Not a word to Wonbin before going back like nothing happened, even though the uncomfortable dampness of your panties said otherwise. 

unsaved number, 3:25am

↳ it’s Wonbin, i got your number from sohee. we should meet soon

you, 9:08am

↳ yeah? where?

wonbin, 9:09am

↳ 150 east 14th st, @ 11

you, 9:12am

↳ smh making me get my day started on a sunday morning

His apartment was as well kept as him, minimalistic in all its glory but decorated with his achievements wherever he saw fit. Awards, records, framed lyrics, any and everything he felt deeply proud of. You knew that you shouldn’t be there, no matter what occurred the night before. Wonbin was irresistible, and giving into his invitation was practically asking for trouble.

“I got coffee and bagels, if you’re hungry.”

Not just any coffee, though. Coffee from Gregory's. Of course he’d do something like this, you thought. He's trying to prey on my sentimentality to get me in bed. Kinda smart. “Why am I here, Wonbin?”

“Well as of three o’clock this morning, I’m no longer your teacher.”

You nearly choked on nothing as he smiled at you, pulling up the email correspondence from the Dean. “I'm sorry, what?”

“I never needed that teaching job, anyway. I took it because it felt good helping students, but it was getting to be too much, cutting into my own work time. And then when we crossed that line last night… I knew quitting was just the right thing to do.” He walked gingerly toward you, assessing your reaction carefully as he closed the gap between you.

You looked at him incredulously, brows furrowed as if he’d grown a second head. “Y-you’re not my teacher anymore?”

“I'm not your teacher anymore.” He backed you up against the wall of his foyer, the position eerily similar to where you were mere hours before. Heat rose to your face as he gazed at you, his smirk painfully malicious as his hand cupped your jaw. “Lemme take you out on a proper date. Dinner… the Angelika… dessert.”

Your gulp seemed to echo the walls of his apartment, giving up any and all fronts you were trying to put up. You could feel his lips hovering over yours more than you could see them, the soft hum that reverberated as he asked you if you’d like that. “I'm… not sure we’ll make it to dessert.”

“I thought I taught you last night to always leave room for dessert.” He popped open the first button of your blouse, getting a peak at the lavender bra beneath it. You’d dressed up for him, knowing very well where things could lead and not wanting him to see you in your far less alluring Sunday attire. Your breath hitched at his touch, your mind shouting for you to just wait for the date before crossing any more lines. But there he was, just as sexy as ever, sliding the sleeves of your top down your arms with his forehead pressed against yours. Youd didn’t stand a chance.

Your back was hitting his mattress before you could gather the strength to hold off, more of your clothes in a tangled web on his floor than on your actual bodies. Your skin was saccharine, a sweetener he’d been searching for ever since he could identify its name and he couldn’t get enough of it. Marks of his lips were blooming on every inch he could reach, your body signed with his name in a way you never knew you needed. His name rolled off your tongue like it was the only word you knew, the two syllables your new favorite combination in the entire world.

His hands guided your slip skirt down your legs, discarding it carefully with the rest of your clothes as you tugged impatiently at his boxers. He was hard, dangerously so, and it was killing you not to see him in all of his naked glory. “Canisuckyouoff?” You didn’t even think about it, the words flying out of your mouth before you could even try to stop them.

“Seriously?” You were already flipping the two of you over, inching your way down his legs until your face was leveled with his hips.

“Yes, please. I wanna make you feel good.”

Nothing could’ve prepared you properly for his length springing out of his black balenciaga underwear. It would’ve been a shame if he wasn’t as well-endowed as you wanted, but you were mature enough to know that it wasn’t all about size. Wonbin, however, was all about size. He was probably just barely above average in length but he was thick with veins in all the right places that had you close to drooling all over him.

You licked at his tip in a graze, not enough to satisfy him but enough to get him squirming. Small, agonizing licks here and there that had him fisting at his hair in sheer frustration. You pitied him with a bold lick up the underside, but went right back to the teasing that had him close to tears. “___, fuck, I can’t take anymore of this. I thought you said you wanted to make me feel good.”

“I will, baby, you just have to be patient.”

He whined out, not sure how the rest of the afternoon was going to play out if you kept teasing him so mercilessly. He was just about to beg again for you to touch him when your lips wrapped around his tip, his back arching involuntarily and sending him further into your mouth. A guttural groan accompanied the pleasure pumping through his veins as you bobbed her head along his cock, swirling your tongue around him every so often. You had a primal need for more of him, more of the way he tasted and the precum that was oozing out of him. More of the way his groans switched to melodious moans as his climax neared him, more of the way his face was contorted in pleasure as your hands rubbed at his thighs. 

His orgasm was building up in the pit of his stomach, the twine of tension pulling further and further until he was sure it was going to snap. Your mouth abandoning his cock in favor of his balls almost did the trick, your hand wrapping around him to jerk as you sucked one at a time. He pulled you off of him reluctantly, wanting so desperately to cum in your mouth but knowing he’d regret passing up the opportunity to fuck you. “I have condoms in the drawer.” His breath was ragged as he pointed the drawer out to you, his hair sticking to his forehead as his body heat was skyrocketing. You handed one to him before shuffling back to the bed, letting him climb over you clumsily with his arms supporting his weight.

He tapped his tip against your clit, running it between your folds as you bucked your hips toward his. “That's not fair.”

He slipped inside of you, barely an inch before pulling back out. He repeated the movement over and over until you were gripping at his hips in an attempt to force more out of him. “Isn’t it, though? You had your fun…” You were so wet that it was making it hard for him to keep up, your soaked walls pulling him in with every shallow thrust. “Have you learned your lesson yet, baby?”

You nodded your head furiously, feeling almost embarrassed by how much you needed him. He refused to give up so easily, though, continuing his perfectly angled thrusts that grazed your g-spot just enough to make your hips buck. "Wonbin, please."

His first full thrust had you clenching around him so tightly that he almost came on the spot, the warmth of you wrapped around him so overwhelming that he had to screw his eyes shut. Your eyes fluttered in satisfaction as he filled you to the brim, the stretch burning deliciously. All you could think about was the next time, and the time after that, and how he could stretch you out whenever he wanted to now. He was yours now.

His lips wrapped around your nipple as he slowly dragged himself in and out of you, savoring how tightly you were squeezing him. It was all the anticipation finally materializing into something he couldn’t get enough of. Your moans, your faces of pleasure, your scent, your taste. He wanted as much of it as you’d let him have, for however long you’d let him have it. "Is this what you were thinking of while I was trying to teach you? Hm? Thought about me stuffing you full of my cock?"

The only noise you could manage was a raspy moan, mind completely numbed by the sensation of his skin pressed against yours. You could feel your lips move, saying something along the lines of wanteditsobadbinnie, but the feeling of his nose dragging up the side of your neck distracted you.

Your bodies seemed to mold together as he picked up speed, drilling into you relentlessly as your nails dug into his hips, asking for more. The slap of your skin against each other was his kryptonite as he wrapped your legs around his waist, wanting to hear it again and again until it played in his mind on a loop. He could feel the knot in his stomach warning him to slow down, to relish in the feeling a bit longer, but he didn’t care. Not when your lips were pressed right to his ear begging him not to stop. “Are you gonna cum for me?”

He tried to respond with a ‘yes’, but the absentminded clench of your walls sent him over the edge in a flash. He emptied himself into the condom, trying his hardest to focus all of his efforts on pushing you towards your own orgasm. His fingers found your clit between your sweaty bodies, the rough pad of his thumb orbiting your clit until you joined him in your own throes of euphoria. Your nails clawed down the expanse of his back as your vision blurred, ecstasy replacing every cell in your body as he kissed along your jaw.

The room smelled of sex and the remnants of his body wash, both of you fighting for air as you wrapped yourselves in his sheets. Your fingertips danced across his chest as he watched you wordlessly, face flushed with the evidence of your Sunday afternoon in. “What are you thinking about?” He caught your hand in his, eyes still trained on your face.

“Honestly? Trying to remember if there are any hidden corners in the Angelika where we can have sex.” You looked up at him as he laughed, a smile of your own creeping onto your lips. “What? Too honest?”

“You’re kinda perfect, you know that?”

His lips pressed chastely against your temple. “Yeah, actually, I do.”