#I’m so sorry it took me so long to respond to this Court

[jakesguitarsolo]

i have an impure jake thought for you, baby.

thinking about how pretty he looks in firelight. and kind of caught on the idea of a weekend retreat, in a cabin deep in the woods. just the two of you. and after a day on the lake or having a hike, you sit him down in front of the fireplace and just spoil him by riding him all night long.😌

Jake would look so damn pretty with that red- orange glow dancing all over his face.

Your shadow casting over him as you step in between him and the fireplace.

Nothing but the sound of the wood crackling and crickets outside the cabin.

He’d sink back into the couch as you sink onto his cock. Taking all of him, slowly, inch by delicious inch.

The way he’d grip your hips tighter as you lower yourself on him.

Throwing his head back just like he does when he plays on stage…

“Mmm, baby you feel like fucking heaven wrapped around me like this… So tight, love…fuck. Taking me so damn well.”

Relishing in the warmth and wetness of your pussy as you slide up and down on his length.

“Just like that, yeah… Keep riding my cock just like that. Such a good girl for me.”

[iholdwhatican]

tension

part two to reunions - must read part 1 first!

pairing: art donaldson x reader x patrick zweig

length: 3.2k

author's note: this took wayyyy too long for me to do yall, i'm so sorry. these two have a tight hold on me and i'm in the trenches. i've got some good stuff lined up tho, and i'm super excited to write it heeheehee :) also smut in the future will be much longer and much more detailed, just fyi

tags: y/n is art donaldson's wife ; birthday party ; art is down bad ; patrick wants y/n ; possessive!art ; the boys are fighting ; no use of y/n ; pining ; sexual tension ; sugar mommy y/n? ; unapologetic flirting with your bff's wife at his birthday party

warnings: sexual content, p in v, not super detailed but still there!

summary: the stressful night of the birthday party continues, and you find yourself pinging between art and patrick like a tennis ball. how the hell did you get yourself into this?

originally posted by iholdwhatican

It took four minutes and 36 seconds of Art and Patrick being alone outside before the anxiety became too much. Your dress was too tight against your skin and the chatter of the guests rattled in your skull. Your mind replayed the anger on Art’s face over and over, convinced that he’d direct it at you the moment he came back in. And if you were being honest, you couldn’t stop thinking about that kiss. 

Your blood boiled with the ferocity of it, and an ache in your core begged for another taste. 

Another three minutes and 18 seconds passed while you downed half of your second glass of wine. You made conversation with a few people who caught your eye, making sure all the food and drink were up to par. Not that you really could care about that right now. Your mind was a jumble of thoughts about the two men on the balcony. 

Art, Patrick, Art, Patrick, Art, Patrick, Art, Patrick

“You look like you’re gonna puke.” 

For the second time that night, Patrick Zweig’s voice made you jump. 

You looked at him, catching sight of that damned smirk that made your stomach flip, and furrowed your brows. One quick scan of the room came up empty for your husband, forcing the anxiety in your chest to worsen. 

“Where’s Art?” You asked, not missing the way your voice wobbled slightly. 

“Relax.” Patrick responded, resting a hand on your shoulder, “He went to the kitchen, I think. I didn’t kill him. And he didn’t run for the hills either.” 

You decided not to comment on how easily he’d read your worries without you saying anything. For some reason, you were an open book to him. 

A deep sigh left you. You licked your lips anxiously- which immediately caused Patrick’s eyes to fall on your mouth. 

“What happened out there?” 

The man gave you a shrug, letting his hand fall back to his side, “Nothing, really. We just talked for a bit. He told me I could stay, as long as I stopped flirting with you.” 

“So does that mean you’re going to stop?” The idea made you slightly unhappy, which in turn filled you with guilt. Why were you so excited by his flirtations when you had a wonderful, loving husband who treated you like a queen? 

But then Patrick grinned, and you knew the answer before he said it, “Well, I’ve never been one to do what I’m told.” 

A smile grew over your lips, and you tried to hide it with an eye roll, “Why don’t you mingle? Try some food. I’m going to find my husband.” 

He didn’t miss the enunciation you put on ‘my husband’, and you didn’t miss the way his eyes darkened as you said it. You didn’t give it time to linger, instead turning away and moving towards the kitchen. 

You knew the look Patrick had in his eyes. You’d seen it a dozen times in Art’s. On the court, over a board game, in all sorts of scenarios. And every time, even now, the look sent a chill down your spine. 

That expression was clear, resolute competition. 

Just as Patrick had said, you found Art in the kitchen. With his back to you, you had a perfect view of his tense shoulders and hanging head as he poured himself a glass of water. He was all wound up, and you knew it was your fault. Now it was your responsibility to fix it. 

You stepped up behind him, sliding a hand between his shoulder blades. He didn’t hesitate to lean into the touch, a subconscious reaction. He knew it was you just by the feel of your hand on him. And, even if he might be furious, he still found comfort in it. 

“Hey…” You breathed, leaning to the side to meet his gaze. Art looked at you over his shoulder, a half-smile quirking his lips up, “How are you doing?” 

“Hey.” He responded, turning and sliding his hands over your hips. Your chest pressed against his as he leaned down and placed a kiss on your hairline. Then he just lingered there, breathing in your smell, “I honestly don’t know. I just- it was so weird to see him.” 

“Yeah, of course it was.” Your words reached him in a soft, comforting tone. The guilt of putting your perfect, doting husband in this situation was enough to make you feel like you had barbed wire around your neck. You had to pay penance- somehow. You rubbed your hand in circles over his back, “I’m sorry, sundrop. I don’t know what I was thinking when I invited him.” 

Sundrop. A nickname that went way back to the early days of your relationship. Art was an energetic puppy dog with a halo of golden curls and a smile that made your insides feel hot. He was what you pictured a personification of the sun to be, hence the pet name. He pretended not to like it, but his eyes always sparkled a certain way when you said it. 

Art pulled his head away to peer down into your eyes, his own pensive and confused, “No, baby, don’t be sorry. It was a great fucking surprise. Just… a surprise.” 

You shook your head. He was so fucking good to you, “You’re allowed to be mad at me.” 

“Mad? At you?” In one quick motion, he picked you up and set you on the counter. Your legs opened for him without hesitation, allowing him to slot right in between them, “I don’t think that’s possible.”

You fought the blush rising in your cheeks and rolled your eyes, “You think too highly of me.” 

“No. Never.” He replied instantly. He kissed your chin. Then your jaw. Then your neck. Then down your throat, “As far as I’m concerned, you’re God.” 

“Art-” You argued, though you weren’t sure what for. You tilted your neck back and offered yourself up to him. 

“I could spend my life on my knees for you and be happy.” His words were muffled as he mouthed at your neck, sending shivers down your spine. This, combined with the kiss from earlier, was making you ache with need. You were half-tempted to end the party early and take your pretty husband to bed. 

You bit your lip when he ran his tongue over a sensitive spot above your collarbone. If he wasn’t in between them, you’d be squeezing your thighs together. 

When Art pulled away, his eyes had darkened. Dilated pupils and heavy breaths told you all you needed to know. He was just as fucking horny as you were right now. His hands held your hips tighter. 

“Do you think we’d be left alone long enough for me to show you how much I mean it?” He asked. It was almost as if he were begging. As if he couldn’t bear the idea of doing anything other than dropping to his knees and devouring you. 

And God, when he looked at you like that, you had no choice but to say yes. 

Unfortunately, fate intervened, and you were kept from making a scene at your husband’s birthday party. 

“Hey, you two, quit snogging and come entertain us!” One of Art’s tennis friends called, sticking their head into the kitchen. The big grin on their face told you it was just teasing, but you still felt your face burning with embarrassment. 

“It’s my birthday, let me do what I want.” Art jeered right back, lifting you off the counter and back onto your own two feet. You laughed airily at the comment, feeling more light-headed than anything. 

Before following his friend back into the action, he whispered a quick, “Later, okay?” to you. And then he left you standing in the kitchen- touch-starved, foggy-headed, and excruciatingly aroused. 

It was then that you realized you didn’t even get to ask him what happened with Patrick.

Upon re-entering the party, you found yourself taking note of two things- or rather, two people. One, Art- conversing with some friends from the foundation with a big grin on his face. Two, Patrick- having his fill of finger foods from the refreshment table. He was alone. And though you tried to fight it, you found yourself gravitating towards him. 

“Do they not have food where you’re from?” You teased, falling into place at his side. Your gaze slid over the spread before flicking up to his face. 

You’d caught him mid-bite, and he attempted to swallow quickly and regain his composure. Something warmed slightly in your chest. Endearing. 

“Well, I’m kinda… in between places right now.” He explained, tongue stuck in his cheek to clear out residual bits of food, “And there’s never stuff as good as this.” 

You let the compliment slide away, instead focusing on his more troubling response, “Are you homeless?” 

“What? No.” He chuckled, as if the question were preposterous, “I go all over for tennis. It’s just easier to stay on the move.” 

You raised an eyebrow, “And on off-season?” 

Something in his expression darkened, only for a moment, and then he was back to cocky smiles and overwhelming confidence, “I’m too busy to care about that. And what’s it matter to you, anyway?” 

“I’d like to think I’m a good person.” You said, plucking a snack off the table and popping it into your mouth. You chewed it halfway before continuing, “And a good person worries if they think someone they care about isn’t doing well.” 

Patrick grinned at you for five long seconds. And it took him actually saying the words to realize where you’d slipped up. 

“You care about me?” 

Shit. You had not meant to say that. Why was this man so damn good at getting every little thought in your head to spill out of your mouth? 

“If caring about you means I don’t want you sleeping under a bridge somewhere, then sure.” 

“Okay, I would never let it get that far-” 

“I wanna help.” 

He blinked, “Help how?” Briefly, very briefly, you thought of your bed. Your comfortable, spacious bed, perfect for three individuals. You could picture it- you, safe and sound and nestled between the two men. Art, your lovely, obedient husband on one side, letting himself love and be loved. And Patrick on the other side, nice and cozy with a roof over his head and a full belly. 

The image flashed in an instant, and you were left with hollow, heavy guilt. You swallowed. 

“How much do you need?” 

“Huh?” You rolled your eyes at him, “How much money do you need? To keep you afloat for the next little while. And I’ll send you home tonight with leftovers.” 

Patrick let the words wash over him, slowly smiling as they did. He took a step towards you, close enough that one tiny shove would have your bodies pressed together. You could smell him, all sweat and cigarettes and woodsy cologne that made your head spin. You’d been wound up all night, and this was absolutely not helping. 

“You gonna write me a check? Use your hard-earned money to get a practical stranger a hotel for a couple nights?” He murmured, heavy on the charm, “What would your husband think?” 

He knew he’d gotten under your skin. He knew what he was doing. He was fucking enjoying this. 

You tried to hold your ground, looking up at him through your lashes, “It’s his money, actually. He makes sure I never have to work unless I want to.” 

“Guess he treats you pretty well. And look how you’re taking advantage of it.” His hand lay on the table next to yours, his fingertips nearly brushing the skin of your wrist. How bad would it be if you closed the gap? 

You bit your lip, “You’re allowed to turn me down.” 

“I don’t think I’d ever turn you down, Mrs. Donaldson.” 

Something about that title, something about the way he said it, made your blood run hot and cold at the same time. It reminded you of the myths of sirens. Beautiful monsters of the sea that used their voices to bring others to their demise. Talking to Patrick had that same type of allure, and the sense of danger. 

“Then tell me what you need.” 

“What do you think I need?” 

Oh, you could think of a few things. But you could also feel a pair of eyes on you, and you knew exactly who they belonged to. Part of you wanted to tempt him, see if you could get another reaction like out on the balcony. However, you quickly shot the idea down. Not right now, not in the middle of a crowded party.

Lips curving into an innocent smile, you pushed yourself a step back from him, “I think you need a nice place to sleep. And a few good meals. And maybe a hug.” 

The sudden switch-up took Patrick by surprise, but he handled it smoothly and responded only a beat later, “You’re offering?” 

“At least for the first two.” You didn’t know what you’d do if you were in his arms. With the way you were feeling now, with two glasses of wine in your system, your boundaries were getting blurrier and blurrier. How humiliating. 

His bottom lip jutted out into a pout. Which unfortunately dragged your gaze right down to his mouth. It took you a moment too long to meet his eyes again. 

“What, we can’t hug? Don’t you consider me a friend?” 

“I do.” You shrugged, tucking loose hair behind your ear, “Maybe I’m just not a touchy person.” 

A lie. You knew it, and you could tell by the look on his face that he knew it too.

“Yeah.” He smirked, sounding the opposite of sincere, “Art’s wife isn’t a touchy person. Sure.” 

You needed a cold shower. Or to go have some one-on-one time with your vibrator. Or maybe move to the seaside and spend your days going mad in a lighthouse. You weren’t sure. All you knew was how increasingly hot you were feeling. 

“Speaking of Art, go talk to him. Try to make amends. Meet some of his friends.” You suggested, glancing over at your husband. He wasn’t watching you anymore, at least not straight on. But he had a radar when it came to you, and he was very diligent in keeping tabs. No matter what.

“You trying to get rid of me?” Patrick asked lightly. No heat behind the words. 

“Oh, yes.” You admitted, placing your hands on his shoulders and pointing him towards Art, “Find me again before you leave and I’ll have your check.” 

“Yes, ma’am.” He grinned at you over his shoulder, sending a wink before sauntering off. 

Finally, you felt like you could actually get a breath in your lungs. 

The party had ended. Guests went home, Patrick got his check and headed to a hotel you recommended, and you and your partner left all the cleanup for the morning. You barely gave it a second glance as you went up to bed with him, your hand held tightly in his. 

Art fucked you like a starving man that night. You barely got into the room before his lips were plastered on your skin, his hands unzipping your dress with quick precision. He was usually much more reserved, but something about tonight had made him ravenous. And he wasn’t the only one.

You ended up on his lap; bare chests pressed together, skin sweaty and breaths heavy as you rolled your hips into him. His hands clutched your thighs, keeping you close, fingers pressing into the flesh. You pulled on his hair and his head immediately fell back. As if he were a puppet for you to position and use however you wanted. His eyes looked up at you with a fire in them you’d never seen before, but the adoration, the reverence, was all too familiar. 

Your name fell from his lips over and over again like a prayer. The single word weaved with threads of devotion, possessiveness, desire. A song joined in chorus by whatever nonsensical phrase entered his head. I love you, so perfect, all mine, please, please, please. 

He was claiming you. Marking his territory in his own special way. It didn’t matter that Patrick wasn’t here to see it, or that he probably would never even know. As long as Art could tell himself that you were his, he’d be okay. Jealousy was a good look on him. 

You could feel your core tighten with each and every movement of his hips against you. You weren’t going to last much longer. But by the look in your husband’s eyes, neither was he. 

Parted lips claimed yours in a messy kiss, tongue sliding into your mouth and exploring every open space. Then you were being flipped over; back pressed into the mattress as Art rocked into you with reckless abandon. He intertwined his fingers with yours and pinned your hands above your head without ever breaking the kiss. 

You lasted about thirty seconds. Finally, the tension in you snapped and your orgasm washed over you in waves, leaving you limp and trembling. Art finished only a moment later. You could feel him pulsing inside of you as the aftershocks slowly faded away. The room reeked of sweat and sex and your head was spinning. 

Art, your precious, dutiful man, rested his head on your chest as he attempted to catch his breath. You could feel the tickle of his lips kissing your skin, the soft squeeze of his hands on your hips. You ran a hand through his damp hair, fingers massaging his scalp. 

“I love you.” He murmured against your ribs, right over your thundering heart. He said it like he couldn’t quite believe he was allowed, like he didn’t believe you were here, that you were his. 

Dark hair and cigarette smoke flashed through your mind. Almost-touching hands and paper checks. 

“I love you.” You responded, kissing his hairline, “Happy Birthday, baby.” 

The only response you got was a tired, happy sound and another kiss to your collarbone. A quick adjustment later and the two of you were tucked under the blankets, your head on Art’s chest and his arm around you. Neither of you cared enough to clean yourselves up or to put pajamas on. Art was already softly snoring next to you, and you could feel your eyelids getting heavy.

As you listened to the baddump of his heart, a strange thought flitted through your mind. You’d just had the best sex of your life, and it was because of Patrick. You weren’t the only one who’d been thinking of him while in the throes of passion. The notion made something strange twinge in your gut. 

And then, like he’d somehow read your mind, your phone lit up with a text. 

Patrick Zweig: You free for lunch tomorrow?

***

Taglist: 

@jxssimae

@jackierose902109

@dvrkstxrlightt

@yesimwriting

@1989tvcore 

@kookie29 

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@nsyncvinyl 

@ireallydontcareanymorebrooo

@brunettegirl

[kitchenisking]

March Fic Rec

back to back recs cuz I wasn't paying attention to the weeks fly by😅

Obsession by Rae666 - (Rating: Mature, Words: 2,399, sterek)

Derek gets hit by a witch's curse and is confined to his loft as his uncle searches for a cure and Isaac stands guard. But as the curse grows worse and Derek's obsession with a certain pale skinned person becomes increasingly intense, how long can the team keep Derek and Stiles apart, especially when Stiles decides to take matters into his own hands?

The Wolf by rororowyourboat - (Rating: G, Words: 3,901, sterek)

Stiles and Derek haven't seen each other in years, but after talking on the phone nonstop for months now, Derek is finally moving back to Beacon Hills. The day he's supposed to arrive, he stops responding to Stiles' texts, and then a blue-eyed wolf shows up on his porch steps. Obviously something has happened to Derek, and Stiles needs to help him out... right?

Tease by katrint - (Rating: Explicit, Words: 4,852, sterek)

Stiles is used to Derek being all growly, claiming and rough when he gets jealous, but when something that usually would make Derek all the above happens, and Derek shows no interest in Stiles whatsoever, Stiles starts to worry.

Ulterior Motives by useyrwordsderek - (Rating: Explicit, Words: 11,082, sterek)

In which Stiles is warm for Derek’s form, Derek is repressed, and Erica is awesome. (Lydia is also awesome, but that goes without saying.) Author’s notes: Set after Season 2; mild spoilers for all of S1 and S2. Previously posted to LJ. My first Teen Wolf fic! Be gentle!

It feels like a perfect night (for breakfast at midnight) by princecharmingwinks - (Rating: G, Words: 1,068, sterek)

Stiles is floating on cloud nine. He is absolutely living his best life. It's a Saturday night, he's out with his friends and he's dancing like it's his birthday. Because it is! (Or it will be in 20 minutes, once midnight ticks around). And what better way to celebrate the respectful age of 22 than a night out?

The Hale Beast by secretfanboy - (Rating: Mature, Words: 17,707, sterek)

Stiles would rather be at home playing X-Box than attending the ceremony inaugurating the Wolf nation's sovereignty over the Argent kingdom, but he's the Sheriff's son so those are the breaks. What he doesn't expect is the feral werewolf Prince Derek AKA The Beast to take an interest in him.

He was alone with the Beast. His heart started pounding its way up into his throat. A burst of static came from his cell phone. "Scott! Oh my god! He's here! The Hale Beast is here with me and I'm alone and no one is here to witness when he kills me...to death!"

Treasure by Hedwig221b - (Rating: Explicit, Words: 71,231, sterek)

“I know you don’t trust me,” Derek grunted. When Stiles inhaled to retort, Derek caught his chin and pressed a finger against his lips, making the boy freeze in place, eyes impossibly wide. “Don’t argue. I expected it. Wolves don’t trust easily, too. I just wanted you to know that… I’m sorry. I was selfish and didn’t see what was in front of me. You don’t need to worry. I’ll take care of everything.”

It was a thought that grew in his mind, spread to his heart and took root there, reincorporating into a deep desire and a vital need. Derek will take care of him and his little pup, he’ll bring the hearts of his enemies and put them at the boy’s feet. He’ll court and he’ll conquer.

The Mending That You Need by torakowalski - (Rating: Explicit, Words: 3,861, sterek)

“He’s not my boyfriend, Stiles. He’s a man from a club. I couldn’t call him, if I wanted to.”

Even Forbidden Fruits Get Picked by flitterflutterfly - (Rating: Explicit, Words: 18,658, sterek)

When Stiles’ best friend gets himself bitten by a rogue werewolf, Stiles convinces him to seek aide from the local pack. Stiles tags along, ready to help Scott despite the knowledge that he likely wouldn’t be welcome. After all, Doms rarely ever approved of Stiles and he thought the Hales would be no exception. So he was surprised to find that not only had the rogue seemed to develop some kind of creepy fascination with him, the young alpha wolf, Derek, seemed to want him as well.

Transformation by sffan - (Rating: T, Words: 1,885, sterek)

“Dude. You turned into a wolf. What the hell? When did that start being a thing?”

[gingerteawrites]

Undeserving - Where the shadow of the past looms over Diluc’s present

A/N: I'm baaaaaack. This one has been in the works for a minute, and has taken on many different forms, but here I grace you with a work about my OG Genshin husband. Please enjoy and let me know what you think! Not beta read

Content: ANGSTTTT, Husband Diluc, relationship troubles.

Word count: 1.5K

Diluc Ragvindr had convinced himself that the last thing he wanted on this earth was to start a family. The tale of his own being torn apart would never not be a sore wound, one that incessantly throbbed, one that he believed would never heal.

The idea of being ripped away from any sort of attachment was repulsive, as was the possibility of growing estranged from loved ones. Familial bonds were simply too sensitive of a topic. Too painful of an ache.

You on the other hand, had always dreamed of the wonders of marriage. Of a sacred contract of love and care. And after years of timid courting, Diluc did what he thought would never be possible. He gave into the new, selfish desires of your company. Of an attachment to you. Of what he could be WITH you.

Diluc got married to you, the love of his life. Something he felt was simultaneously the best and worse thing he could ever have done. It did not take too long for him to become consumed with dread of history repeating himself. The potential of all the failings of this new attachment loomed over him like shadows of the abyss.

While you enjoyed the newly-wed bliss, the joy of finally being united with your love. Your husband spiraled into more and more agitated thoughts. Yes, this union was something he had wanted. So badly it kept him awake at night. He had wanted to have you for himself. And him for you. But everything he kept inside him created a dangerous brew of dark thoughts that now made him restless.

He tried to hide this all from you. Oh how ashamed he felt. Staying at Angel’s share a little longer than usual, leaving the house before you woke up for sparring exercises, coming up with things to do when you tried to bring him lunch as a surprise.

It all came as a shock to your system. You had always known that Diluc was not openly affectionate, but he had never truly avoided you. Your romance was one of timid touches and whispered sweet words, of acts of service and long evening walks, but never of hiding and silence. It drove you mad.

You tried to be the bigger person and give him space. Afterall, you knew — if only partly— of his family’s woes and him not being used to have someone so close. But after weeks of this game of hide and seek, you had had enough.

One Friday night, with your own spiralling thoughts, you ordered all the house servants to take the weekend off, and waited for Diluc, resolve hard as steel to get through this issue.

When he silently cracked the door open, he jumped at the sight of you, gaze fixed on him with your arms crossed, a single candle on the nightstand illuminating your face.

“Hey,” he greeted quietly, closing the door before he started to take off his coat.

“Hey,” you responded, lips pursed as you watched him. These were the first words you had exchanged all week.

He almsot felt small under your gaze, taking off his outer garments and gloves which he set on his dresser and turned to face you with a sigh.

“I’m sorry I’ve been quite busy recently,” he tried to appease you, sitting down on the edge of the bed. “I am exhausted, shall we sleep?”

Your brows furrowed in exasperation, and you unfolded your arms.

“Not so fast Diluc.” He froze at your tone, sharp, cutting through the dry air. “Is that truly all you wish to say?” You asked, feeling yourself growing shaky with all the contained emotions. Confusion. Anger. Fear.

“What…” he turned fully towards you “What do you mean?” he asked hesitantly.

You took in a shaky breath, closing your eyes to calm your nerves. When you reopened them, you noticed your husband’s slightly hunched position, his bangs falling over his eyes. That hair that always reminded you of a warm hearth. Something to grow fond of, now looked dull in the pale candelight. And the sight made your heart ache.

“Diluc please don’t play dumb with me. What is going on?” You ask, leaning towards him “You’re avoiding me.” The words leave a bitter taste in your mouth and your lip curls in distaste.

“Did I do something wrong?” You add after a pause, the sadness breaking through your tone.

“No, no, no, it’s nothing you have done.” He jumps in, guilt gripping at him hearing your pain. It was much easier to rationalize his behavior when all he saw was your sleeping form when he left in the mornings and came back late at night. But now faced with you awake, his chest felt unbelievably tight.

“Then what is it?” You ask, steadying your voice once again.

Diluc sighed, his fingers gripping the sheets beneath him. He then raises his head so his eyes can meet yours, the curtains of his hair falling away from his face, and you see the conflict in his eyes. The pain of something he is keeping locked away in his being.

“Please talk to me.” You whisper, covering his hand with yours.

“I…” he pauses, feeling ashamed of his thoughts. How could he even justify his actions to you. “Maybe… maybe us getting married was a mistake.”

The words pierce through you like a blade, and your entire body stiffens, mouth agape, eyes open wide. You feared your ears betrayed you. “What did you say?” you hear yourself ask.

His hand reached for yours, and you jerked away before he could reach you. His lips opened and closed multiple times, like he was trying to find words.

Recovering from the initial shock of his words, and all you felt was an overwhelming sense of anger bubble out of you. “Is there someone else?” You asked through gritted teeth. The possibility would absolutely obliterate you, but you had to know.

“No, I could never.” He rushed to say again. ”Then what is this about, Diluc!?” You almost yelled, chest heaving. You did not recognize the man standing before you.

“I…” he stammered again, brows downturned, biting his lower lip. “You just deserve someone better.” He spat out, his entire body tense. “You’re just too good for me. And I am sorry it took me until now to realize it. No.” He stopped himself. “I knew all along, but I was selfish.” He shook his head. “I just can’t make this work.” He sucked in a deep breath, his voice growing meek.

Your hands fall against the mattress, fully taking in his words. Words that did nothing to quell your anger, only adding more fuel to it.

“And who made that call?” You ask, loud voice resonating through the room. He looked up at you with wide eyes. “Who decided that huh?” You leaned towards him. “Not me.” You concluded bitterly.

“But.” He says, eyes locked with yours.

“But nothing, Diluc.” You punctuated, voice firm again. “I think you are deserving of me.” You point to yourself. “I love you Diluc. Do you not?”

“Of course I do.” He adds, closing the distance between you two, his fingers finding yours again. “I just don’t want this to end badly. I don’t want us to end badly.” He confesses.

“But don’t you think we’re worth the risk?” You ask, searching his eyes. “Don’t you think that our love is worth trying?” You emphasize.

He looks down at your linked fingers before his gaze returns to you. “I am a weak man. Weaker than I look, certainly. I’m scared of losing you.”

“So you decide to push me away?” You ask in disbelief, to which he stays silent. “Then I refuse to go. We are going to make this work, whether you believe you are strong enough for it or not.” You conclude.

Diluc looks at you, your eyes shining with determination and unshed tears. A testament to your own strenght. An announcement of his own weakness. How could he be Mondstat’s defender, working to uphold the foundation of his city if he could not work for you. The realization sunk into his stomach with a nauseating weight. He was chosing the easy way out. He was hurting you and himself because of fear.

“I am sorry.” He chokes out, pulling you into him, engulfing you in his warmth for a hug. “I really am not deserving of you.” He adds, his voice trembling as he buried his head into your neck.

“Just promise.” You wrap your arms around him “Promise you’ll try.”

He pulls away from you, his hands moving up to hold your cheeks, his eyes burning with new certainty, new determination. “I swear to you.” His thumbs move in circles against your skin, wiping away your tears that have started to fall. “I promise. I stake my life on this. On us.” And he brings his lips to yours to seal this commitment. The past was dark and seemed all-engulfing, but he would not let it overshadow this present with you.

Comment and reblogs are much appreciated :))

[glutengoblin]

Please Please Please (Sebastian Sallow X Reader)

A/N: This took me embarrassingly long to publish, especially given the fact I finished writing it over a week ago. Unfortunately, my health got in the way. So again, please forgive me for being so inconsistent with my writing.

Anyway, here is my small, fluff fic inspired by "Please Please Please" by Sabrina Carpenter. Consider this your sweet treat before I get back to my beloved depressing themes!

Word Count: 2.5k

Warnings: None

Disclaimer: All characters are aged up to 18. Also, I am not Sabrina Carpenter and therefore do not own the rights to "Please Please Please"

“SEBASTIAN SALLOW. WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT.”

Y/n held him by the collar, glaring daggers sharp enough that it felt like her gaze was burying under his skin. The cold of the undercroft in which they were currently standing couldn’t compete with her icy glare.

“Y/n I swear its all a misunderstanding… I just wanted to collect some more lacewing flies-”

“I don't care if what you were doing was innocent enough Sebastian. But, another detention, for being caught off school grounds during curfew hours again. Are you trying to create a reputation for yourself at this school?” She released his collar, letting out a frustrated huff as she took a step back, reevaluating the man in front of her. She loved him, she truly did, but some times he just seemed to want to get on her nerves.

Y/N always knew (or at least, wanted to believe) that under his seemingly rough exterior, Sebastian had a heart of gold. He would do anything for his friends and family to try and keep them physically safe. However, what seemed to be increasingly the case is the fact that he never tried to keep her emotions safe. She was constantly filled with worry that one of his escapades would land him in serious trouble. Sure, she too did her fair share of parading around campus when not allowed. However, that was different, given 1. she never did anything too dangerous, and 2. she was never stupid enough to get caught.

Sebastian was another case entirely though- she didn’t know if was ego or testosterone that seemed to get the better of him, but these infractions were becoming increasingly common.

Sebastian flashed a sheepish smile, taking a step towards her to close the gap and take her hand.

“Please, Y/N. I swear I won’t do it again. I’m sorry for making you worry,” he promised, bringing his thumb up to pass it over her cheek. “I love you, you know that right?”

Y/N sighed, some of the tension leaving her features as she studied his face, choosing to believe him yet again. “I- Fine Sebastian. I forgive you. And I love you too.”

🎀

Sebastian seemed to keep to his promise to keep out of trouble… Until 10 am the next morning.

Y/N and Natty were making their way towards the great hall, chatting about their shared potions class for today, when they witnessed a certain brown-eyed Slytherin being dragged towards Headmistress Weasley’s office. Though Sebastian was trying to put on a show of being remorseful, the Headmistress was clearly having none of it, raising her voice uncharacteristically loud for matters that involved a student.

“What on Earth has he done now…” Y/N muttered as she continued to walk, not caring to stay in the court yard any longer to watch that scene unfold. Truly, she just wanted a break from his antics for one day, but even that seemed unattainable at this point.

Natty picked up her pace to find herself in step with Y/N again, before declaring, “You know, Y/N, he certainly has gotten himself into a lot of trouble recently.”

Y/N muttered something to herself under her breath, trying to pick the best way to respond.

“I know, Natty. But you know, its just… Slytherins. Those Slytherins, always getting in trouble. Sebastian just seems to get caught up in the culture of his house a bit, you know? I’m sure he’ll grow out of it once we leave Hogwarts.” Natty raised an eyebrow at that, clearly unsure if she agreed with that statement. However, she failed to state that out loud, just opting to follow Y/N in the Great Hall and into a hopefully peaceful breakfast.

The pair decided to join Poppy at the Hufflepuff table, who was currently whispering to Adelaide Oaks about some peace of drama that seemed to be swirling today. Y/N tried her best to hope that it wasn’t about her and Sebastian, but the eyes on her as she made her way over to the table said otherwise.

She was used to being stared at. After all, when she was proclaimed the “Hero of Hogwarts” after the events of her fifth year, she had had all eyes on her. Thankfully, the attention had died down some in recent years. But, Sebastian’s increasingly brash actions where starting to gain him a reputation, and by extension, gain her one for choosing to stay by his side.

Poppy and Adelaide were clearly a bit startled when Y/N and Natty sat down, first looking at them, then looking at each other, as if trying to telepathically communicate about what to say.

“Um, good morning Y/N!” Poppy said, clearly trying her best to use her typically happy tone. “How are you doing this morning?” She asked, her eyes darting over Y/N’s features.

Y/N let out a sigh in response, picking up an apple and taking a sizeable bite out of it. “If you’re trying to ask about what happened with Sebastian this morning, Poppy, I honestly have no clue. Natty and I left the courtyard before I could see Weasley drag him into her office. Again.”

Poppy’s eyebrows shot up in surprise, as Adelaide decided that perhaps she should add to the conversation.

“Y/N- Can I just ask you a question? Hypothetically of course… Apologies if this is too brash. But why exactly do you stay with Sebastian when all he seems to do is cause so much ruckus in your life?” The look on Y/N’s face caused Natty to grab her arm and give a gentle squeeze as if trying to convey that maybe she should think before turning Adelaide into a chicken. After taking a deep breath and determining that she felt ready to give a measured response, Y/N finally opened her mouth again.

“Because, Adelaide… heartbreak is one thing, my ego’s another. And I would argue heartbreak is worse, even though Sebastian has been doing quite a bit of damage to my ego at the moment.”

Her friends regarded her quietly, trying to determine the best way to respond. It wasn’t like Y/N to comment this heavily on her relationship - typically, she only said overwhelming positive things about Sebastian. However, everyone did have their breaking point, and they were beginning to wonder if Y/N had finally hit her’s.

“So what do you think you’re going to do about his behavior?” Poppy finally chimed up, breaking the silence. Y/N let out a small sigh, a look on her face that suggested she was trying to contemplate her options.

“Speak to him about it, I suppose… Maybe he just doesn’t realize to what extent this is effecting me.”

Adelaide shot Y/N a skeptical look, as if she couldn’t image the Sebastian Sallow ever not acting only in his best interest. “Whatever you say Y/N… Just know that we’ll support you, regardless.”

🎀

Y/N did in fact speak to him again, specifically that night, in the same spot in the undercroft they had been in the previous night.

Somehow, tensions were running even higher, as this time Sebastian let out a frustrated huff. “I just don’t understand what you want of me Y/N, its not like I was doing anything objectively wrong.”

Y/N shook her head, as she began pacing to try and relieve her body of the tension that had consumed it. She honestly didn’t know which was worse at this point- the trouble that Sebastian’s actions had the potential of getting him into, or the silent judgement of her friends that seemed to be taking a much larger toll on her conscious than usual.

“I’m going to be completely honest Sebastian. I just don’t get it. There’s plenty to do in the castle- Its so nice in Hogwarts honestly. I really don’t see why you’d even need to leave the grounds so often- and besides, regardless of why, can you please try to realize that my friends are concerned. They’ve always been worried that you’re a ‘bad guy’, and frankly your actions are driving them even further towards that conclusion. I just want to know why you keep doing this!” She kept pacing, at a rate that would eventually wear marks into the stone floor, until Sebastian caught her hands and pulled her into a stop in front of him.

He flashed her the same smile he always did, the one so full of hope and love that she couldn’t help but melt and forgive him. He leaned in, brushed the loose strands of her hair behind her ears, and pressed a soft kiss against her nose. “I unfortunately can’t tell you why yet. I am sorry for embarrassing you though, Y/N. I promise that wasn’t my intent, and I will try to do every in my power to not embarrass you anymore.”

She stared at him, with daggers in her eyes. “I… its not fine. But you better have a damn good reason for all of this Sallow for me to even have a shot at forgiving you.”

He let out a soft smile, and pressed another kiss to her cheek. “I swear on my honor.”

🎀

To Sebastian’s credit, he did manage to keep that promise for almost exactly 10 hours more than he had the day before.

Upon hearing the news that Sebastian had to serve detention again that evening, for some atrocity he had committed that night, Y/N decided it was in her best interest to go get black-out drunk with her friends at the Three Broomsticks to try and forget. At least it was in fact a Friday, so she did have some excuse for her behavior.

The night started off fine, but a few drinks in and Y/N was beginning to feel like she needed to start rethinking her life. She wasn’t sure how much more of Sebastian’s delinquency she could endure. She truly did love him, she even appreciated that he was flawed given she was too - but sometimes, it just felt as if he let his emotions get the better of him… and her.

At this point in the night, she had almost begun crying as Poppy was rubbing comforting circles into her back, trying to persuade her that perhaps another shot of fire whiskey was not the best idea.

Natty and Adelaide shot worried glances between them, trying to decide what they could say in the noisy mess that was the Three Broomsticks, as to hopefully not embarrass her but knock at least some sense into her.

“You know, Y/N, we’re graduating in a couple weeks. Maybe this is a good time to start thinking about what you want your life to look like post-grad.” Poppy said nervously, unsure if Y/N would take kindly to her hinting that perhaps her relationship is something that she should also leave in the past.

Y/N looked up at her, tears in her eyes, as she studied her friends face. “You really think so? I don’t know Poppy… I really do love him.”

Poppy let out another frustrated sigh, trying to determine what she could say to possibly get her friend to change her mind. However, she ran out of time when out of the corner of her eye she saw a certain Slytherin pushing his way through the crowd.

Sebastian had a wide smile on his face, until he got nearer. Upon seeing the tears rolling down his beloved’s face, his expression instantly filled with worry. He greeted her friends, before slowly wrapping an arm around her and pressing a kiss against her temple. “Everything alright my beloved?” He whispered against her ear, the concern evident on his face.

Y/N looked at him for a second, as if processing, before her expression turned to almost disbelief. “I just don’t get it, Sebastian. Why do you always have to go embarrass me like this… I just can’t take it anymore… Honestly, what I truly want to know though is why!? Why do you seem to not care about making me this upset?”

Sebastian swallowed, trying to figure out the best way to approach this concept. Deciding that perhaps honesty was over due, he let out a shaky breath before turning to face her head on. “I do care about making you this upset Y/N. Its just that, well, I’ve been busy collecting things.”

Y/N’s eyebrows shot up at that, giving him and incredulous look. “Collecting… Things? That’s what this is all about.” She let out a short laugh, as if she couldn’t believe her ears.

Sebastian stared at her, as he put his hand his pocket, clearly fiddling with something. “Well… Not just randomly. It was all to try and get this.” He pulled a small black velvet box from his pocket, opening it to reveal a small diamond accented with a silver band - the ring was simple, but shocking nonetheless. Y/N eyebrows went even higher as she stared at Sebastian open mouthed, as if trying to ask the question without using any words.

“I uh… You see, when I got caught trying to harvest lacewing flies, it was because I needed them to brew Felix Felicis. Yesterday, I got caught while collecting the flux weed. But I needed it because I heard that there was a catacomb that contained the sort of ring that I wanted to propose with… I just needed to get lucky enough to find it. I knew there was a hidden cave in the cliff above the forbidden forest, but had no idea of the exact location… so-”

Y/N barely even registered the words he was saying, outside of the p word that she didn’t expect to hear from his lips so soon. “Sebastian… I, what does this all mean?”

Sebastian looked around nervously, shooting a glance towards her friends before deciding it was finally time he did right be her. Getting down on one knee, he gently squeezed her hand, studying her eyes for any sign of fear. Thankfully, he found none.

“Y/N L/N, will you marry me?”

Y/N clapped a hand over her mouth as the tears started again, staring down at the scene before her. Sebastian let out a nervous laugh, sincerely hoping that those were the right kinds of tears.

“Well babe, what do you say?”

In flash, Y/N felt any anger she had about his past infractions melting away.

“Yes Sebastian… Yes I will marry you!” She let out a small squeal, jumping up from her stool and pulling him up into a hug.

As the two embraced and traded sweet remarks, Poppy facepalmed at the sight. Natty leaned in, whispering softly, “How long do you give it until he gets in trouble again?”

Poppy sighed, and shook her head, “Optimistically, I give him a week.”

🎀

Sebastian did in fact get another detention the next week. However, at least this time he had company since his new finance also got caught sneaking out of the castle with him.

[heartless-tate]

I have a request!!

I need some angsty Rhys x reader like I need the air I breathe. I’m talkin someone died and was brought back by the grace of the Gods or something along those lines. And I need the other party to lose it.

Can be smutty too I won’t be mad about it. But if it doesn’t fit don’t force it. Love your works! You’re a fabulous writer 💜

Come back to me | Rhysand X Freader angst

A/N: sorry it took so long! I’ve been very busy. P.S this shit wasn’t proof read so if it sucks it sucks. I’ll do better on my upcoming fics 😭 And thank you so much anon!

warnings: death, allusions to sex, wasn’t proof read 🥴, MDNI!!!!

“No!” Rhysand snaps at you. You growled challengingly at your friend. He was so fucking stubborn. 

“Rhysand I swear to the cauldron above I will skin your ass if you don’t let me go on this mission.” 

Rhysand bristles at your new threat. You were always creative with them. His eyebrow quirks. He sighs and rubs his temples. He looks around his office as if trying to find an escape. He stands abruptly and approaches you. His wings gently cocoon you, and he drops his head on your neck defeatedly like a pouty child. 

“Don’t call me that...” he mutters into your skin. Your fae ears catch it. His breath was warm against your skin, and you wondered briefly why he had been so touchy as of late. 

“What?! Your name…?”

“Yes.You always call me Rhys- call me anything but my full name. We’re closer than that dear.” He whispers, lifting his head up. You huff. You wonder why you feel your body gets hot at the nickname. It was just Rhysand- he gave pet names to others. Right? Your eyes find his violet ones. You were tempted to scream at him again but you saw his tired eyes, and softened. You sigh. 

“Fine. But I’ll go with you.” Rhysand spoke before you could say anything else. 

——————

It wasn’t just Rhysand that tagged along. Azriel and Cassian did too. Whatever- at least you got to go. Ever since your best friend, Rhysand, returned from under the mountain he’s been weirdly protective. He had always been protective- but now he was outrageously paranoid of anything harming you. It was odd. 

You were on a simple mission. Track down a group that has been disturbing some of the night court’s cities, take them out. Simple really. Or so you thought. Once you had successfully tracked the group down, Azriel had stopped any of you from proceeding further. He wanted to observe the band of rouges to see what they were doing. And their powers. You didn’t see a point in it- as you were there. Azriel was there. Cassian was there. Rhysand was there. You four could take out this lowly group in minutes! Or so you thought.

 After about three days of restless following the group, it was safe to say you were ready to take them out. You didn’t pay any mind to Cassian  trying to stop you from proceeding. Azriel had been scouting the area for any others. Rhysand was with him as back up. Leaving you and Cassian to watch the group. You felt a hand grip your wrist and jerk you back.. 

“Hey! What do you think you’re doing?!” Cassian whisper-barked at you. 

“Cas- I’m hungry. I was just going to get some food.” You whispered sweetly, batting your eyelashes at him. His eyes softened he contemplated. 

“Fine stay here, don’t move and keep your eyes on them- I’ll go on a quick hunt real quick.” He muttered. You smirked in victory once he left, now it was time to show them that you could be helpful. 

————————

“Something’s wrong. I sense it.” Rhysand yelled to Azriel over the wind. There was no other members of the band of rouges around.  Azriel flared his wings slightly and nodded in response.

“Let’s head back, I’m sure everything is fine.” He responded. 

Rhysand wasted no time and turning swiftly in the air. He started a fast pace back to the camp where the group was resting. Azriel followed suit. Something was wrong. He could sense it. His skin had goosebumps, and he felt restless. He had a shaky feeling of anxiety. Why? He couldn’t figure this out.

The camp came into view, and he was about to dive into the forest to hide himself from the group. But his eyes caught something- a body. A body in the middle of all the men. The men were cheering and whipping it. Rhysand’s eyes sharpened and he felt sick. It was- you. A sense of rage and utter wrath of a thousand burning suns filled him. 

Azriel flinched when the whole area went completely dark- it wasn’t nighttime- it was Rhysand’s wrath. He felt a shiver work it’s way up his spine. He caught sight of your naked body being beaten. 

A loud book of thunder sounded, causing all the men to pause their fun. They didn’t have time to react when something large hit the ground. Majority of them fell to the floor, scampering. Dust was everywhere. 

A tall looming figure with bat wings spread in front of you, covering you. Rhysand. Everything hurt. So fucking bad. You were covered in blood and vomit- whatever they had shoved down your throat was working fast. You felt sick. Vunerable. Everything was so hazy. You didn’t have time to process the screams around you or why. You felt your body collapse. Something was wrong. No- it’d be fine. You’d get flown to Madja and healed and you’d soon wake up. You tried to keep your body up but failed, collapsing to the mud. 

Rhysand felt dread at hearing the thump on the ground. There were bodies everywhere. His senses were heightened. The only heartbeat was Azriel’s and yours. But yours was the only one that mattered right now. And it was so slow- 

He shoved Azriel away from your collapsed form quickly, cradling your head. Your scent- it was fading. Your skin was so pale. He realized with a sick feeling you were dying. His eyes met your weakly opened one’s. Your eyes started to close.

“Nonononono- cmon we need to get her to Madja. What are you doing?! Let’s go!” He yelled, quickly hailing your body in his arms. Azriel flinched. 

“Rhys- it’s too late. It’s an hour flight, and where we are it’s impossible to winnow! And the poison they forced on her has spread mostly.” Azriel whispered. Rhysand ignored his words, shaking his head. His wings flared, preparing for flight. 

“Where’s Cassian- get him- we can make it-“

“Rhysand- we fucking can’t. It’s not possible.” Azriel’s words and reality finally seemed to hit Rhysand. Rhysand collapsed in the mud, holding you close to his chest. He was rocking you back and forth, tears falling from his eyes. 

He gently caressed your face. Your eyes opened. He whimpered softly at your weak expression. “No.nononononono! It wasn’t suppose to happen like this. There was so much I had planned for you- for us.” Rhysand said. His words were soothing. You felt yourself relax. You felt Rhysand’s talons scrape your mind, and gently broke your barricade. The pain in your body disappeared. You were able to process his words better. Death, you were dying. Us. You had never realized there was an us. You couldn’t help but press your face against your hand. You think you could die at peace like this. You weren’t sure if the tears on your face were his or yours? Maybe both. You were so tired- you felt so relaxed with his warm body and wings covering you. We’re the woods always this quiet? It was getting harder to keep your eyes open. Rhysand’s hold tightened. 

Rhysand came to the realization if he was panicked you would feel it- he needed to calm himself for you. It was the least he could do. He took shaky breaths pressing his forehead agaisnt yours. “I’m so sorry..” he muttered agaisnt your skin. 

“..you have nothing to be sorry for…” you grunted out. “..I love you Rhysand.” 

“Don’t call me that.” He groaned out. Nudging his head against your body gently. Your choked laugh filled his ears. 

“I love you so much Rhys.” You said again. He made a noise of pain  and kissed your wet eyelids. 

“I have loved you with every fiber of my being since the day I met you, and I will continue loving you until the day I die..” He whispered loudly. His lips were soft as they gently pressed to the tip of your nose. He watched as your shaky hand reached forward to wipe his watery eyes. Your fingertips were soft. He savored the moment, closing his eyes. Until he felt your hand fall. His eyes widened open, panic settling in. Your eyes were fighting to stay open. Your chin lifted foward as if to kiss him. He bent forward. His forehead again rested against yours. You were both staring at eachother. Something snapped- a gold tether between you too. You felt your heart throb one last time. And everything went dark. 

Rhysand screamed. It was guttal and terrifying to Azriel who stood off to the side giving you two privacy. He felt his heart break. You were dead. 

——————

Rhysand refused to let you go. Your corpse remained in his bed- it had been two days after your death. Somehow his magic had kept your body intact and clean. He refused to eat, drink, or even leave your side. He spent his hours curled up agaisnt you, crying and begging for you to come back. You were his mate. He had loved you as much more then a friend for a millennia of years by now, and he had a sneaking hint you were mates. But the mother was so cruel- killing you just as soon as the bond snapped. 

His claws dug into your skin gently as he rocked your corpse back and forth. A knock sounded at the door, eliciting a growl from him. Azriel stepped in. 

“Rhys. You need to eat. Y/n wouldn’t want you-“ 

“Don’t say her fucking name!” Rhysand growled, eyes going dark. Azriel shivered in fear at the sudden darkness. Nobody could get to Rhys. It was scary. His brother was slowly killing himself. And they couldn’t do anything about it. 

Azriel nodded and left the room, deciding to leave it be. Rhysand curled his wings back around you. He climbed on top of you, gently straddling. A few tears dropped down his face, landing on yours. His forehead met yours. 

“Bring her back home-  please..” He cried out. 

Rhysand flinched. He was hearing things now. Was he in so much pain he was delusional now? He whimpered. He thought he could hear you calling his name. Maybe his time has finally come and he’ll be with you again. 

“Rhys..!” 

Rhysand jumped, hearing your sickly coughs. You. You. You. You were breathing. He was surely in the afterlife now. His head dropped to your chest, ignoring your cries of his name in favor of hearing your heartbeat. It was there- you were alive.

Rhysand choked on a sob. He didn’t know what to say. 

“Rhysand!” You yelled louder. He flinched. 

“Get off of me- your suffocating me you big Illyrian baby.” You groaned. He wuickly jumped off of you. Onyl to wrap you in his arms and cradle you to his lap like a child. 

“Rhys?” You questioned. His head was pressed to your chest again. Where your heart was. You felt something wet drip down. 

“You were dead. Gone- dead. I lost you!” He choked out. “I thought..” he couldn’t finish his sentence as he made a whimpering noise. He was having a full break down. 

“Rhys. I’m right here, I’m alive, calm down.” You muttered. Your body was sore but you couldn’t feel much right now. All you could focus on was the weird attached feeling towards the male holding you. How were you alive? You had no idea. But you weren’t mad. That’s for sure. 

Rhysand gently pushed you down against his sheets. You were in his bed, in his shirt and boxers. You smelled of him. There wasn’t much to say. He was acting on instinct. His hand roamed your body, as if ensuring you were real. His wings cradled you, blocking out the world. He grabbed your face, turning it, inspecting you. 

“Rhysand!” You snapped. He flinched in response. “I’m not going anywhere and I’m fine.” You repeated trying to calm his mother hen. You could feel his emotions now. 

“No. You’re not going anywhere. That’s for sure.” He whispered, eyes holding a dark look. You nodded in response. You flushed slightly, remembering. He was your mate. He finally smiled down at you. It was slightly crazed, but it was better than crying. His eyes were puffy. 

“I’m here to stay.” You whispered as his lips slowly met yours. Your first kiss with him. 

��————-

Rhysand was very clingy. The last two weeks have been spent with him up your ass. The inner circle was delighted to see you alive. And Cassian begged forgiveness. He thought it was his fault. You assured him, it wasn’t his fault. Which led to Rhysand sitting you down and giving you a very long lecture. You weren’t allowed on missions until next starfall. Of course, it annoyed you. But you also decided to relent and obey Rhysand this time. Armen said you were a miracle and not to question your resurrection.

You and Rhysand had been taking it slow as far as the bond. It strictly stayed to small pecks on the lips. He wanted to ravish you- but he wanted you to be comfortable with him. You were. How couldn’t you be? Azriel told you how he stayed beside your body. It made you tear up. And now, all that was left of the ‘accident’ was a protective Rhys. He refused to leave your side for more than an hour. Sleeping arrangements were made where you could sleep in his room or yours, but best belive he had to be in the same room. If you didn’t want him touching you that night he was more then happy to sit in a chair and do paperwork (and watch you as you sleep but you didn’t know that.)  But you always ended up wanting him by you. It brung comfort. 

You were ready for more. Specifically tonight. You convinced Rhysand that you would be okay while he joined his brothers at Rita’s. But you knew he’d be back within two hours. And would waste no time attaching to you. So you worked fast. You made yourself look pretty in the mirror feeling slightly self conscious. You felt a shift in the air realizing Rhysand was near. You rushed to the kitchen looking at the meal you prepared. You were shaking. This was embarrassing. What if he didn’t want you? 

“Love?” Rhysand’s sweet voice filled the air as he sensed your distress and rushed into the dining room. He paused upon seeing you. You were gorgeous. No female on this planet could hold a candle to your beauty. He swallowed the saliva building in his mouth. You were standing in one of those sundresses. He gulped. You were clammy. His eyes slid to the plate of food where he usually sat for dinner. His eyes slid back to yours. 

He felt himself harden. “Y/n?” He whispered. 

“I’m accepting the bond.” You whispered. 

“Say it again.” He demanded. 

“I’m accepting the bond Rhys.” You said louder, feeling embarrassed until he plopped down on the chair. He wasted no time in devouring his food. It was gone in under two minutes. His eyes found yours again. 

“I suggest you sit and eat your plate. Because once I get you in my room you’re not coming out for a very long while.” His pupils were dilated and his wings were flared. He was holding himself back.

You certainly didn’t waste any time eating your plate. 

[chixkencxrry]

oh, baby

WARNINGS: SEXUAL THEMES, MENTION OF ASSAULT (NOT BY MIGUEL), ORAL (F/M), CURSE WORDS, EXPLICIT SEX, CUM SWALLOWING, DIRTY TALK. Your consumption of media is on you. Not Proofed.

DO NOT REPOST OR TRANSLATE MY SHIT.

Summary: Miguel O'Hara x Fem! Reader; Miguel was a mystery you'd hardly began to solve. Too bad you were already in love with him.

I

Two weeks. 

It had been two weeks since you last saw or heard from Miguel. Now, you tried not to feel abandoned — per se, but the emotion nagged to the corners of your soul. Miguel was secretive and cagey. You’d just sort of embraced that part of him. It wasn’t like the two of you were in a relationship or anything like that: a fact you have to remind yourself of constantly. You just slept together; sometimes. 

He was a mutant like most people in the city; like that Spider-Man kid. But he never got caught on YouTube or anywhere. In fact, if it wasn’t for the marks he left on your skin — you were quite sure you would have thought he wasn’t real.

“I’m tired of you moping around in your apartment.” Your best friend, Tia, had said when she called. “You’re going on the date whether you want to or not.” 

Tia’s solution to everything seemed to be getting dicked down. To you, this date wouldn’t even begin to scratch the itch Miguel left behind. Yet, here you were, putting on lipstick and wearing your good lingerie set beneath a new cocktail dress. 

“And where are you going?” Snarled a familiar voice, causing you to snap your lipstick in half.

Miguel stood by your window. Black and red suit on but maskless. His face looked worse for wear. Your heart clenched at the thought that he might be hurt.

You wiped your hands and grabbed your first aid kit, exiting the bathroom and jogging to him. “What the hell happened to you?”

He passed his tongue over his teeth; watching you scrambling over him in a little black dress. “Fight. Where are you going?”

“A date.” You didn’t have to answer to him.

“Oh.”

“Yes.”

You padded rubbing alcohol to a nasty scar on his chest. He didn’t even flinch as you cleaned it. “With who?”

“Not sure. Tia arranged it.” 

“Plan on fucking him?”

“What the fuck, Miguel?” 

“I’m just asking. That dress barely covers your fucking ass, your tits are all the way up to your neck —”

Angry, you poked the bruise until he flinched. “Don’t you fucking start! You disappear for what, two weeks? And just barge in? I don’t even know your last name, Miguel. So yes, I can go out and fuck whoever I want.” You threw the supplies at him and grabbed your bag. “You can clean up yourself you fucking asshole.”

II.

The date went horribly.

You couldn’t blame the guy — he was nice, Peter Something was his name, but he was a little young to you and you weren’t in the mood for a bad decision tonight. 

So, you came home alone and cold. Miguel had long since gone. Your supplies had been returned and surprisingly, there was a note at your bedside with some sort of tricked-out cellphone. 

My name is Miguel O’Hara. You can contact me on this.

It took you two days to send a message. A bright, sunny June morning. And it wasn’t anything poetic or well-thought-out. A simple hey. 

You’d shoved the phone aside and gone on your laptop to teach a few classes. At lunch, when you opened it — you were surprised to see he had responded.

I’m sorry. It wasn’t my place.

Huh. 

Damn right. 

The reply came instantly; Did you have fun? 

Should you lie? No. That was petty. Biting your lip, you twirled your fork in your ramen. What the hell. 

Yes, I did. 

This reply came slower. Okay. 

Another text came in before you could respond. I don’t want you going on dates with other guys.

Your reply was automatic. Did he think you were some well-trained maltose? 

Then do something about it. 

I plan to, cariño  .

It seemed you’d underestimated what those texts had started. Miguel had honestly started to court you. He called you often, even video-calling and you spoke at great lengths about each. Then, the gifts came. 

The first was a bouquet of flowers. Carnations, roses and tulips. You had set them on your nightstand. Looking at them every night until they turned brown. 

Then, the Nat King Cole record. It was mint and sounded crisp when you played it. A perfect sound and echo. 

Miguel was determined. 

At least now you knew he was serious. Excitement coursed through you. You liked getting to know him. You liked the vulnerability he shared with you. You liked that you knew his favourite meal, his hatred for his father, his love for his mother – you knew he lost someone he cared deeply about, you knew his aches as well as you knew the curves of his back. The scars healed and were left behind. You cared for this man. You loved this man. That was scary.  

The two of you stayed over at each other’s homes on and off. Miguel’s home was clinical and lacked warmth. He had offhandedly said he lived at work and not really here, in this little apartment he showed you. 

“Someday, I’ll take you to where I actually sleep.” he’d promised one night, rubbing your feet as you queued up an old movie. 

You’d said nothing, not wanting to show him how eager you were for any scrap of information he had to give. You wondered if it was sane; to want someone the way you wanted Miguel. This craving hunger seemed to get the better of you. Was it foolish? To let him in when there was so much pain, so much secretiveness about him. 

Could you want something so much it killed you?

III.

You’d taken a summer job when classes had closed down. Waitressing in the city, like you had when you were a grad student. The problem, however, came with getting back home during the night shift. The buses ran till midnight and sometimes, you had to walk home. It was lonely, sure, and you kind of regretted taking the shift. You preferred it being you – older, fewer ties than the other girls with families and who were now getting their degrees. Plus, the late-nighters seemed to tip better.

 A cold glock pressed itself to your side – pausing you from moving. Your fingers trembled. “Give me the purse or die.”

Twitchy fingers dug into your fanny purse for your cash, eager to get the fuck away from the psychopath. Then, a flash of colour popped before your eye and the feeling of the glock disappeared. The gun hit the floor and you turned slowly to see the attacker on the ground clutching his throat. Over him stood a familiar black and red, hulking form. Talons dripped crimson and in the shadow of the street light – Miguel appeared fearsome.

Your lips quivered. Words couldn’t wrench themself from your throat. But Miguel turned to you, leaving the man bleeding on the ground. 

“I’m taking you home, now.” His voice was a growl. Modulated and unlike the voice you had come to care for. His arms wrapped around you and soon, you were swinging through the city until you met your apartment. 

Miguel stripped you and bathed you, tied your hair in a satin scarf and laid you on your bed. You watched him, he seemed laser-focused on you as he tried to make sure you were safe and comfortable. He made that orange tea you liked so much, lit a pine candle and wrapped you in your favorite blanket. 

It was when he was half-way out your window that you found your voice. “Stay. Please, Miguel.”

Miguel turned. Removing his mask and suit until he was just in his footlong briefs. “Of course, mi cariño.”

In the morning, Miguel took you to HQ. And boy was that a mindfuck.

IV.

“Empanadas?”

“Beef or chicken?”

Miguel opened the box, took a seat next to you on the park bench, and took a sniff. “Beef.”

“Oh. Yum.” you made grabby hands.

Your boyfriend relinquished them to you, smiling as you dug into one. “So good. I think we should keep coming to this universe just for the food.”

He hummed. “Highly unlikely.”

You licked your fingers and rolled your eyes. Your eyes caught an alley in dark corner and red flushed across your neck. It had been a while since you and Miguel fucked. He wanted to take things at your pace. Sure, he ate you out from time to time and you certainly couldn’t go long without deep-throating his cock but you hadn’t had him deep inside you for a while.

Wiping your hands on your jacket, you placed a hand on his thigh and rubbed a circle. “Mig?”

“Yeah, baby?”

You dropped your voice low and pressed your breasts against his large arm. “Wanna do a quickie in a dark alley?”

Miguel stopped what he was doing and flickered his eyes over you and then back to the alley. “Baby, don’t do this to me.”

“C’mon,” your hand went higher to his groin. “Fuck me like a whore up against a dirty alley wall.”

“Fuck.” Miguel rolled up his sleeve to show his gizmo and in a few taps, you were home.  

V.

Your hands were pinned on top of your head by webbing. You showed your teeth and snarled. Though, everything about this was consensual. You liked making things difficult for Miguel. He was about to turn your pussy inside out and you were going to weep on his cock, anyway. 

So, yes – you liked making things a little difficult for him. It was your thing. You fought and acted like a bitch and he made you pay deliciously for it. 

A hand slapped across your heavy breasts, eliciting a whimper and drawing you from your thoughts. Red eyes flashed down at you, fangs hanging between pouty lips. “I must be doing something wrong if you’re so distracted?” 

“Yes.” You answered without hesitation. “You aren’t fucking me.” 

Miguel didn’t respond. His hand pinched a hard nipple, sharp talons tracing your skin and making your pussy grow wetter at his teasing. Cupping your pussy, he parted your folds and caressed it — sticky love coating his finger as his thumb rubbed your swollen clit. You buckled beneath his touch. 

“Look how that mouth disappears when I’m touching my pussy, cariño  .” Miguel kissed your neck; determined to make you come just by playing with your clit. Which wasn’t hard to do. Not when he was pressed against you like this. Kissing your throat and nipping at the swell of your breasts; sucking your nipples as if to draw nectar from them. 

You became a wiggling — snivelling thing under him. Fuck. Fuck. Your pussy quivered with the impending fall of your climax. 

Arching you back, your mouth hung open as your peak approached. Just as the crescendo reached its high Miguel pulled away from you. Tears burned your eyes as they snapped open to look at him. 

“What the fuck?” Your voice came out needy, weak and pleading. 

Miguel simply grinned at you, sucking on his fingers. “Are you complaining? Stop being such a whiny little puta.” 

Raising your hips, you demanded attention to your pussy. “If you’re going to tease me I might as well take out my vibrator and get the job done.”

“Neta?” The humour in his voice was dry and you felt as though your horny mind had just made a fatal mistake. “You’re going to pay for that.”

Miguel bowed his head and started eating your pussy slowly. Tongue lapping like a cat to cream, he licked from your clit to the end of your slit. Sucking and tonguing your weeping pussy at his own slow pace. Building you up all over again. 

He pressed his pretty lips to it, kissing your pussy like it was a precious thing. Then he pressed it to your aching clit. Sucking it slowly, making loud sloppy wet sounds as your hips worked desperately against his face. Miguel made pussy eating a gourmet art. 

His index and middle finger pressed into you, sinking into the depth of your carven. You shivered, moaning loudly at the combination.

“Miguel! Oh, please, baby. Miguel! Miguel!” 

Moments from it. You felt your release coming before he pulled away again. This time tears fully flowed. “Please, please, please.” 

Licking his lips, Miguel showed his fangs, brown eyes dropping to your dripping pussy. He set his hands on your thighs, then rubbed his thumb over your clit before slapping your pussy softly. “Oh. I wouldn’t want to put your vibrator out of business, cariño  .” 

You groaned. God, if only you’d kept your fucking mouth shut. 

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry, baby. Just let me have it. Make me come, please baby. I’m sorry. Baby, please.” You were outright begging now. Your voice a pathetic, weak mewl. How the mighty had fallen already. 

But that pleased Miguel. He liked you pleading. Liked it when you wanted him so badly it made you insane. Writhing on his bed, tied up and weak for him and only him. 

Stretching his body over you, he let his hard cock rub against your wet core as he grabbed the aforementioned vibrator from your bedside. Flicking it on, the purple device vibrated. Then he clicked it up to the highest speed. 

You hit your lip; excited to see where this would go. 

Miguel went back to his meal. Kissing and sucking your pussy before focusing on your clit again. 

The vibrator slowly inserted into your pussy as he sucked your clit. You arched your back, whimpering and moaning as the vibrator went in and out of you. Miguel’s expert kissing and use of the toy had you collapsing in moments, spraying his face with your orgasm. 

You felt raw and overstimulated but Miguel kept the toy there even as he raised his head to kiss your breasts. Covering them in bite marks.

You are already mute at his work. He worked the vibrator deep into you so that it would stay there in you as he sat on your face — working the tip of his cock into your open mouth. 

“Relax your throat, slut.” He growled, working his cock in and out of your mouth. It was an awkward angle sucking his cock as you lay down. The salty taste of his velvet member was a favorite of yours still. You often told him it was your favourite thing to eat. 

The vibrator stayed in you even as you wiggled your hips to try and get it to slip out. The sensitivity of your pussy with its motions and the delicious feel of Miguel fucking your mouth had you trembling.

Looking up at Miguel felt like a religious experience. A god, looking down at you as his balls slapped your chin. 

“Look how pretty you look — silent and full of my cock. Fuck. Yeah, suck it like that. Fill up on my cock.” 

Miguel held your head, controlling the pace but you made your cheeks shallow and kept your tongue wrapping around him. His member jammed the back of your throat and slid down it, you gagged — naturally but Miguel kept it there for a few seconds before pulling out. He rubbed his head, coated in spit and pre-cum all over your lips. 

“Pretty puta. You like sucking my cock? You like being my fucking whore?” 

He didn’t give you a chance to respond before slipping the tip in. He slid in and out before pulling out and cumming on your face. A spurt landed on your lips and forehead — barely missing your eye. Miguel slipped it back into your mouth and you sucked the head, swallowing the milk that came from it. 

You’d lied before. His cum was your favorite meal. His cock was a close second. 

Pulling out from your mouth, Miguel reached forward and sliced the webbing open with his talon. Your hands fell to your sides and automatically went to your face. He removed the vibrator from your messy cunt, planting kisses on the poor, trembling pussy.

Miguel wasted no time and plucking a wet-wipe up from his nightstand and wiping your face clean. 

“There’s my pretty girl.” He said with softness. You smiled, kissing his cheek and lips. “How’re you? I wasn’t too rough?”

“There’s my beautiful man.” Your hands trailed his body, all the way to his still hard member. Miguel let you lead, guiding his cock into your trembling pussy. You bit your lip and moaned as his thickness sunk into you. “You weren’t rough enough, baby.”

His head dropped, lips to your ear as he hummed against the familiar feel of your walls. You hissed as he pushed himself to the hilt, kissing your skin. You were sure by the end of the night you’d resemble a leopard. “Let me endeavor to correct that then, cariño  .”

Miguel’s hand settled onto your throat as he began to stroke you. His girth stretched you slowly, thickness digging deeper into he attempted to dissolve fully into your warmth. He was being kind to your sensitivity but that kindness ended quickly.

His fingers tightened around your neck, conjuring a gasp. He slipped his tongue into your mouth, kissing you sloppily as his hips picked up a harsh pace. His cock spreading you and burning your pussy with its fever. 

“You like stretching out this pretty little pussy? Like me making this a home for my cock, whore?” 

His teeth nipped your lips, tongue passing across your jaw before he bite your neck. 

“Yes, baby. I like you fucking your little whore’s pussy. Stretch me out.” You whispered, fingernails digging into his impossibly large back. You doubted you broke skin but mania overtook you when Miguel’s cock was inside you. 

His hips stuttered, ever so slightly, and you couldn’t help but squeeze your pussy around his cock, rocking on the member. 

Miguel placed a hand on your crouch, pushing you down. “Not so soon, cariño  .”

Staying perfectly still for a moment, he released your throat and sat on his hunches — forcing you to sit up. Miguel placed a hand at your back and another beneath your buttocks, keeping you up. 

The movement, and friction of your clit against his pubes, caused for a shutter of an orgasm to race through you. A little thing like that, made you coat his cock. 

Full of machismo, Miguel puffed his chest out and began fucking into you. Hard. “Miguel! Fuck, oh god. Oh god!”

“That’s right, baby. I want everyone to hear me fucking you.”

“Oh god, oh god!”

“That’s not my name baby. Fucking say my name!” 

And you did, over and over. Until his name became the only word that would fall from your lips. His thick cock dragged against the walls of your sensitive pussy rough and fast, fucking Miguel was holy. Fucking him was close to heaven.

“Love fucking this pussy, cariño  . My tight little pussy. Love spreading it open with my fat cock. Oh, take it baby. Roll those pretty eyes back on this cock. My cock dumb little whore.”

Still sensitive, you came wet and messy on top of him. Miguel followed after, chasing his orgasm with hard, burning thrusts until he came inside you. Laying you on your back, he made a few more jerky thrusts; just to get it all inside you and collapsed on top of you. 

He rested on you for a moment, before pulling out, cock bouncing onto his thick thigh. Miguel’s chest heaved, his dark eyes looking over your face. His hand found its way between your legs, rubbing his leaking cum all over your sore pussy — pressing some of it back into it. 

You couldn’t help it. You kissed his lips and cheeks. God, you loved this man.

Comments are nice ✨

Master list

[tsunami-of-tears]

Sunny

Cassian x Reader

Reader has the best wingman

No warnings, just fluff

Wordcount: <550

Cassian was feeling very happy to be home in Velaris with his family. He had just returned from a mission that had gone much longer than initially planned. With a free afternoon, he was spending some quality time with Rhys, Feyre, and Nyx at a quaint cafe by the Sidra. 

The drinks had just been delivered to the table. Nyx clapped his hands together clumsily as Feyre held up a milkshake for him to try, while Rhys watched the interaction lovingly. The little babe always brought so much joy to their family. 

With all eyes on Nyx, no one noticed the golden blur bounding down the street. The dog came to a stop in front of the group and jumped up at Cassian, knocking the table and causing the drinks to spill. 

Nyx points at the dog and starts babbling, “Pup pup pup.”

It’s a big dog with long, well-groomed, golden hair. It’s on a lead though there is no owner in sight. The dog parts its mouth, appearing to smile, and wags its tail as it tries to lick Cassian’s face. 

“Hey buddy,” Cassian says, giving the dog a pat on its head. “Where’s your owner?” 

On cue, a gorgeous High Fae female bolts down the path, coming to a halt before the table. 

“Sunny, you bad boy!” She exclaims. The dog, Sunny, cocks his head in response before giving Cassian’s cheek a lick. 

Cassian lets out a deep laugh, both at the happy dog’s affection and his name, which is not very fitting for the Night Court. 

“I’m so sorry,” The female says to the group. “He pulled out of my grip and took off. I chased him all the way down the street. Can I please replace everything he knocked over?” 

“No real harm done, darling,” Rhys responds, before giving Cassian a pointed look.

“Are you sure?” The female questions, grabbing Sunny’s lead. “Sit boy.” Sunny obeys, still wagging his tail. 

Nyx interrupts with more babbling, “Pup!”

Laughing, the female asks, “Do you want to see him do a trick? Sunny, roll over.” The dog obeys again, rolling onto his back. Nyx lets out an elated squeal and claps his hands together. 

The female beams at the toddler, before turning her attention back to the rest of the group. “I’m so sorry, I’m forgetting all my manners. My name is Y/N.” 

Hearing her name is music to Cassian’s ears, it sounds so lovely that he forgets to respond. 

“I’m Rhys, this is my mate, Feyre, and our son, Nyx. That’s Cassian.” 

Rhys saying his name draws Cassian’s attention from the female, he notices Feyre wiggling her eyebrows at him and smiling cheekily. Rhys coughs, a blatant push to get Cassian to speak. 

Finding his voice, he turns to Y/N, “Actually Rhys, this has been quite inconvenient.” He flashes a smile that he hopes is charming enough, “I know how you can make it up to me though.” 

Y/N’s cheeks flush and she tucks a stray strand of hair behind her ear, “Oh, how?”

“Dinner. With me. Tonight.”

Y/N bites her lip, not breaking eye contact, “It’s a date.” 

[crybaby-bkg]

a slight continuation of this

no caller ID pops on your screen, pulling your attention away from your previous task at hand: not fucking up your eyeliner. you typically wouldn’t care if it was a little uneven, but you’re going on a date tonight, for the first time in so long, and you want everything to go as smoothly as possible.

which is why you groan when you end the call, and that same no caller ID pops right back up seconds later. you know who it is—who else would it be? you figured he’s already seen your story of being excited for going on your first date in a while, on the only app you hadn’t blocked him on. petty? perhaps, but it’s on him to be keeping up with you despite you cursing him out for wasting your time and then blocking him right after.

you watch it ring though, contemplating for a while longer than you should. you blocked him for a reason. no need to entertain his same shit that he always spews to you when he realizes that he might be losing you once more?

….but it doesn’t hurt to hear the hero beg for you.

“What do you want, Bakugou?” You sigh irritably as you finally answer his call, putting him on speaker as you go back to even out your eyeliner. You hear him huff on the other side of the phone at the use of his surname, but he doesn’t say anything about it, instead, quickly telling you what he’s been bothering you for.

“Who’s the fuckin’ loser that’s gonna drool over how good your tits look in that stupid green dress you love so much?” Bakugou grunts, and you instantly feel your face heating at his crude words. You glance over with a frown at that same green dress that makes your tits look good, where it hangs on your closet.

“None of your damn business, Bakugou.” You snap at him, wondering if it’s too late to find something else to wear. “Not like you ever took me out in my stupid green dress.” Your voice holds a level of bitterness that only he can bring out of you, and you hear his sigh through the speakers.

“I told you this before, I’m always—”

“Busy.” You cut him off, voice suddenly thick as you think back on the countless rejections he’s splattered at your feet every time you tried to further your relationship with him. “You reminded me of how busy you’ve been since you first started this whole situationship.”

“Situation—? Huh? We were dating!” Bakugou protests with a huff, and you can hear how he paces the floor quickly. You glare at your phone, setting down your liner to instead pick of your (his) favorite lipgloss.

“You’d have to ask me out to be dating, Bakugou. You’d have to court me to be dating, Bakugou. You’d have to make time for me and take me out on dates and not hide me to fucking date me, Bakugou.” You spit at him, venom dripping off of your lips in waves. You don’t know why you answered, why you even entertained him. You shake your head with a huff when the line goes quiet, eyebrows quirking up when your date sends you a text to make sure you’re still on for tonight.

“I’m sorry.” Bakugou mutters pathetically, his voice suddenly soft. You hesitate, for some reason, when it comes to texting your date back. Why do you always hesitate when Bakugou is around?

“Let me make it up to you, court you, and shit. I can take you to one of my favorite places, you can wear that pretty green dress and that gloss you know I love.” His voice is pleading, thickening and sweet and suffocating. You shouldn’t respond, should reply back a yes to your date.

“Please? You know how much you mean to me.” Bakugou mumbles, and you can hear the earnestness in his voice. Why haven’t you said yes to your date yet?

“I’ll do better this time. Just one more chance, sweetheart.” Bakugou’s voice is so soft, you’ve never heard him this vulnerable before. You sigh with a shake of your head, slumping back into your seat in defeat.

…

Sorry, I can’t make it tonight. Something came up. Maybe we can reschedule for another time?

[mother-above]

The Golden Warrior | Chapter 8

Azriel x Reader

Summary: To you, love was a poison that slowly killed. It was something that could make the strongest of warriors and leaders weak and vulnerable. You had successfully evaded romance and relationships for a century until the day you realized it had been plaguing you from within.

Chapters: 8/?

Word Count: 6.7k

Warnings: violence, death, swearing

*masterlist*

You kissed Azriel.

You kissed Azriel. Fucking. Shadowsinger.

And you have zero regrets.

The plan was to do anything to forget and prevent the bond from snapping with Tarquin. You hated making split decisions, but this worked perfectly in your favor. All thoughts of Tarquin and your nights together were smashed down into the depths of your memories. It’s been a day since the kiss, and you found yourself thinking about Azriel and how surprisingly soft his lips were for a hardened warrior.

You hadn’t seen him since that night, but you can imagine he was somewhere in the Night Court camps brooding in some dark tent. When you gave him the healer’s order not to fight in battle or fly until he was completely healed, he barely gave you resistance. Now that he’s had time to process the information, you were sure he was giving his High Lord a tough time about this. It must be torture knowing his friends and family were going into battle without him.

Thinking about Azriel’s well-being wholly consumed your mind because you ended up colliding with a tall figure. The apologetic smile slowly disappeared from your lips when you realized you had bumped into a grinning High Lord of Summer.

“What thoughts are occupying your brain, my lady,” said Tarquin teasingly. “It’s unlike you not to watch where you’re going.”

Even if he was poking fun at you, he still swept down to take your hand and kissed it in formal Dawn Court fashion. Your eyes almost popped out of your head as you watched his lips press against your skin.

“Tarquin! I- uh was just thinking about some preparations I must do for the battle,” you stammered. “What are you doing here?”

Tarquin gave you a lopsided grin. “I was on my way to speak to Thesan; would you like to accompany me?”

“Oh, I’m sorry, I’m afraid I was on my way to check on the distribution of the anti-faebane compound. I’ll catch up with you later!”

Without waiting for him to respond, you spun around and sped walked toward the other side of camp. You were actually on your way to speak to your cousin, the warriors Wyla and Bersk were tasked to oversee the distribution of the compound to the camps, but Tarquin didn’t need to know that. You looked down at the hand he kissed and squeezed your eyes shut in frustration. Tarquin was a good friend, why did the mate bond have to come and ruin everything?

***

The hot sun beat down as you took a sip of water, you were looking off onto the blue ocean while ignoring the humans' gazes boring holes into your wings. You and other fae who could winnow were winnowing humans from the villages beyond the Wall all day long. Some humans went willingly, and some were violent and had to be subdued with magic. You frowned as you watched a family in the corner looking a little green, their eldest son still throwing up. They threw an iron spear at you, and you flicked it off like it was nothing. It wasn’t long until they were feeling too sick to pathetically attempt to end your life.

Thankfully, Tarquin was too busy dealing with the refugees in his court so there was little chance of running into him. Looking around, you see the familiar form of Morrigan who was leaning against the stone ledge and admiring the view. The last time you saw her, she was a blubbering mess who kept thanking you for saving Cassian’s life. You stood next to her and Morrigan turned to smile, she reached over and gave you a quick hug.

“My favorite healer!” she said enthusiastically. “Isn’t it beautiful here? I wish the world was at peace so I could lounge on the beach.”

You laughed as you both wistfully looked at the picturesque scene before you. There were beaches all over Prythian, but nothing could beat Summer.

Morrigan examined the soft glow that emitted from you. She felt indebted to the Golden Warrior that stood next to her, without you, her family's world would have fallen apart. Mor also saw the work you’d done to Azriel’s wings, the thought of the Shadowsinger made her smile fade.

“You should know that Illyrian patient of yours is being incredibly stubborn,” said Mor. “He keeps bothering Rhysand and Madja to give him a pass to fight tomorrow.”

Shaking your head, you gave Mor a timid smile. “I was afraid that was going to happen. I had a feeling that even if I told Azriel he can’t fight, he’d try to negotiate.”

“We can all beg him not to fight but nothing is going to stop him from doing what he wants. It has come to the point where Rhysand started threatening Az that he would chain him onto a tree.”

Laughter bubbled from your lips at the image. “Do you think he’ll disobey Rhysand? Azriel doesn’t seem like the type to disobey his High Lord.”

“I don’t know,” shrugged Mor. “I tried talking to him… sometimes he listens to me so I’m hoping he will.”

“I didn’t think he’d be this stubborn!” you exclaimed. You knew how bad his wings were, if he tried to fly too early, one wrong move could permanently damage the nerves in his wings.

“You’d be surprised,” snorted Mor.

The sound of distinct whispers makes you straighten up and whip your head around. Your sudden movement caused Morrigan to finally notice the shadowsinger.

The spymaster approached with a smirk on his lips. “If you’re going to talk about me behind my back, at least try to do it discreetly.”

Azriel found it bizarre to see the two of you standing together and laughing. The female he had loved for five hundred years and the mate he knew would be easy to love. It was his two worlds colliding and his chest constricted with emotion. Two beautiful females who didn’t seem to want him. Azriel was sure the bond would snap the moment your lips touched but it didn’t, his little dove was still so scared and resistant.

 “Hi Azriel,” you said softly. Feeling a little shy from the kiss, you turned around and kept your eyes on the crashing waves.

He stood next to you and leaned against the stone. “It’s frustrating that I can never spy on you again. My shadows gave me away, right?”

You nodded. “Yes, it was your shadows and good! I told you there would be repercussions if you tried to do it again. You can always come talk to me, I thought we established that already.”

“I didn’t forget, my lady, it’s just fun to tease you. Your forehead scrunches up and you start threatening people,” said Azriel as he peered at your furrowed brows.

 “Then don’t say or do things to make me threaten you in the first place!” You scowled while you smoothed your skin upwards with your fingers.

Morrigan watched Azriel and you banter, and her eyes lit up as she studied the two of you. She felt like she was intruding so she excused herself to get back to winnowing the humans from the villages.

“How are you feeling?” asked Azriel. “You ready for tomorrow?”

For the first time since the kiss, you looked deeply into his hazel eyes. “I’m fucking terrified. I was told to stop winnowing the humans because the High Lords wanted me to be well-rested for the battle,” you paused and took a breath. “Thesan wants me to unleash every drop of magic I can to poison Hybern. I still don’t know if I can do it at that magnitude.

Azriel took in your words and leaned closer. “Do you want to know one of the first thoughts I had when I met you? I thought you were incredible and the more I learned about you, the more impressed I was. For 49 years, you held your entire court together without the support of a High Lord. That’s pretty fucking powerful.”

You sighed, “I don’t know, Azriel. I’m scared I won’t be strong enough. What I have to do tomorrow may decide which side the scale will tip.”

Azriel watched your furrowed brow slowly return. He wished you didn’t have to take on this much responsibility and wished he could be fighting by your side. His shadows must have been thinking the same thing because they drifted to you. The wisps danced around your wings or intertwined themselves in your hair.

“You are one of the best warriors I have ever seen. I have a feeling that you’re going to be amazing tomorrow, I know it.”

You smiled at his confidence in you. It was nice to hear it after days of self-deprecating thoughts about your power. “Speaking about warriors—are you going to be stubborn and fight tomorrow?”

Azriel’s jaw set as he shook his head. “I’m furious that I won’t be there to help my brothers, Feyre, Amren, Mor, and… you. Morrigan begged me not to fight and frankly, I’m scared how badly you’ll both kick my ass if I do.”

You laughed and Azriel smiled. He wanted to listen to your laughter forever.

Nudging his arm, you tell him not to worry even though you know tomorrow is going to be a bloodbath. Comfortable silence fell between you, the only thing you could hear was the rhythmic crashing of water. The salty air smelled heavenly against the scent of cedarwood, the scent reminding you of that night.

“Are we going to talk about the kiss?” you blurted.

He felt his heartbeat quicken. “You said it was to distract from your potential mate… did it work?”

Azriel refrained from asking more questions about who the male was. He was afraid that if he knew the answer, he might do something he would regret.

“I think so… but I kind of feel bad about it. I hope it wasn't confusing for you. I’ve been considering you a friend, and I don’t want the kiss to make it awkward for the both of us.”

Friend.

His heart sunk at the word. Azriel peered down at your hopeful gaze. You seemed genuine about wanting to keep the friendship and Azriel would never want to lose that. He would rather be your friend forever and keep you in his life than never having you at all. He still had hope that one day you’d grow to love him but for now, this was enough.

“Don’t feel bad. I’ll always be happy to help you out with whatever you need,” said Azriel.

You beamed up at him. “Likewise.”

The two of you had a rocky start but that’s how you knew this friendship was going to be a great one. He earned your trust, and you earned his.

***

The cold crisp air was welcoming as you glid through the sky. Today was the big day. Potentially your last day. Instead of getting that extra hour of sleep, you wanted to make sure you watched today’s sunrise. It was beautiful, it was like the Mother knew that for hundreds of thousands, it would be their last, so she blessed the dawn sky. Pastel pink, blue, and orange were all you could see. You closed your eyes and basked as you savored the soft warmth of the sun.

One last look at the sky and then you dove down to go meet Thesan and Callon for breakfast. Meals with your cousin and his lover were usually joyful and filled with laughter but today, everyone was trying not to cry. Thesan and Callon were the ones you trusted most in the world. They were your family and the thought of either of them dying today was unimaginable. If something were to happen, you wouldn’t know what to do with yourself. You lost your parents, and you couldn’t lose someone again, Thesan and Callon were all you had.

You looked at Callon who held Thesan’s hand so tightly, his knuckles were white. Blinking back tears, you looked down and stirred your anti-faebane-laced coffee for the hundredth time. Callon would die to protect his High Lord, he would die to protect you. His loyalty to your family and the Court ran deep but even if he wasn’t, Callon loved you both so dearly. You were beginning to think all forms of love weren’t worth it. This hurt too much.

“My cousin, my second-in-command,” said Thesan gently. “If something happens to me in battle- “

You try to cut him off, but he gives you a look that silences you.

“You are the only living immediate relative of mine and the most powerful faerie in Dawn Court after me. Thanks to Rhysand and his knack for breaking the rules, if I die, you will be High Lady and I couldn’t be happier that the role will be passed to you.”

Feeling like a child again, your lips trembled. “That’s not going to happen because you’ll survive this. All of us will.”

Thesan glowed brighter, his familial love for you was overwhelming. He couldn’t stand the idea of leaving you alone again or the fact that you may leave him. “I don’t plan on dying today. I just want you to be prepared, that’s all.”

Tears finally escape and you don’t stop to wipe them. You nodded and looked at Thesan, “My power… I don’t know if I can do that much damage. I want to save as many Prythian lives as possible, but I don’t know if I can do this,” you said truthfully.

“When the shields are down and it’s time to unleash your poison, I want you to think about everything you care about. Think about me, Callon, and your friends. Think of all the humans and faeries you will protect. Think about the Dawn Court and all its beauty. That’s what you’re protecting and trust me, you’ll find that power.” His voice was deep and soothing, and every word hit you in your chest. Maybe you can do this. If High Lord Thesan believed in you, there should be no reason to doubt.

The battleground was a sight to see, the five courts and their legions were marching or winnowing in. Hybern was in the distance, their large numbers slowly gathering but you paid them no attention.

The golden armor felt cool against your skin, the helmet snug on your head, and the flat of your sheathed sword tapping your thigh as you walked amongst the Peregryn Battalion. Callon and Thesan had just finished their speeches to the soldiers, and they wanted to reserve the last one for the Golden Warrior. In the almost 50 years of Thesan’s absence from the throne, you were their leader, their Lady. They respected you and were honored to wear the same armor as you did.

They stood in attention as you made your way to the front, you gazed at the rows of soldiers with an aura of confidence and viciousness. The weeping lady from breakfast was long gone and was replaced with the fierce protector.

“May you all fly high and strike swiftly. May our blades and strength slay our enemies. May the Mother above protect us.” Your voice reverberated through the air. Everyone within a mile radius had their skin riddled with goosebumps as they felt your power radiate from you. “Hybern wants to take away the balance of our country and bring chaos. Let’s show them it’s not so easy to do so. Some of us may fall today, some of us may not. Fight hard and watch each other’s back, I will see you all on the other side.”

Last-minute preparations were being made while the rest of the court's armies were arriving. Callon handed you a scroll and told you to deliver it to the Illyrian General, your fae eyes tell you that winnowing would be faster. Honing on the image of Cassian, you winnowed next to him, but he didn’t immediately look at you, he was looking at the sight of Azriel handing the Truth Teller to Elain. You followed his eyes and realized that everyone was staring at Azriel and Elain.

Raising a brow, you tapped the scroll against Cassian’s chest to get his attention. “Callon wanted you to have this, I think it’s about flight formations.”

Shaking his head, he apologized and took the scroll from you.

“Why is everyone staring at them?” you asked peering at the Archeron sister you have yet to meet. She was looking at Azriel with big doe eyes and annoyance momentarily flared in your chest.

Cassian looked down at you and then back at Azriel. “Um—Azriel never lets anyone touch the Truth Teller. It’s just a strange sight, maybe he feels like his dagger would help her feel safer.”

You examined the doe-eyed fae, she looked like she had never held anything that sharp in her life.

It was then that Azriel’s shadows noticed your presence, they darted towards you, and you laughed when you heard their squeals of excitement. They floated around and whispered; they were admiring the golden armor that covered you. Azriel looked up and smiled when he saw you standing next to Cassian. He immediately limped his way to you, leaving the Archeron sister to curiously look at the newcomer with the white and gold wings.

You asked Cassian how his healing was, and Azriel rolled his eyes when Cassian pulled up his leathers showing you his toned abdomen with a giant scar running down the middle. You cast a hand over and smiled as you sensed that all his healing was done.

“You’re all good, but the scar might stay, it was too deep of a wound and--.”

“Don’t worry about it,” interrupted Cassian. “It’ll be a good reminder to follow orders. You know, I will never be able to thank you enough for saving my life. I wouldn’t be here without you, consider me indebted to you.”

You smiled at the General. “Make sure you survive; I’d like to take you up on that offer one day.”

Rhysand called Cassian over which left you and Azriel alone. You noticed he was still wearing Illyrian leathers and his siphons but no helmet in sight. He watched you notice the absence of his protective gear and he rolled his eyes at your approving nods.

“Have you come here to gloat and show off your armor?” joked Azriel.

“Ha. I’m not that cruel, Azriel. I can’t imagine how hard it is to stand back and do nothing,” you said sincerely. “I think it’ll make everyone feel better knowing you’re safe so in a way, you’re still helping.”

You looked at Elain who was holding Azriel’s dagger delicately, wary of the sharp parts.

“Cassian told me you have a name for that dagger, what was it again? Truth-something?”

“It’s Truth-Teller,” replied Azriel.

Blinking up at him, a small mischievous smile formed on your lips. “That’s dramatic. Do people get intimidated by that?” He looked so dumbfounded, and you couldn’t help but laugh at his expression.

“Actually,” he said with feigned defensiveness. “They do get intimidated by the dagger and my reputation. I guess you wouldn’t know about it because you’ve been living under a rock and can poison anyone and anything.”

Your head tipped back, and a hearty laugh comes out making Azriel grin. The entire morning had been filled with tears and stoicism, it felt good to laugh, it almost made you forget the battle was minutes away.

Azriel pointed to the ornate sword attached to your waist. “You can’t tell me something like that doesn’t have a name!”

You unsheathed the sword and brought it between you and Azriel. “You got me there,” you said as you tapped the three pearls near the hilt. “Her name is Deception, it used to be my father’s. He told me he called her Deception because she seems delicate and pretty but…when in the right hands, she’s also a killer and destroyer of armies.”

Azriel ran a scarred finger across the gold engravings on the blade. It was clean now but, in a few hours, it would be stained red.

“Just like her owner,” he said with a smirk.

A snort comes out and you quickly sheath the sword to distract from the reddening of your ears.

“I have to get back to the Peregryns, make sure we’re ready for the skies,” you said grimly.

Azriel swallowed a lump in his throat, his eyes scanning and committing every inch of your face to memory. He refused to believe this might be the last time he would see you. He wished you had more time, maybe...just maybe you might fall in love with him. Pushing away his useless dreams, Azriel looked at his beautiful mate.

“Please be careful,” said Azriel, his voice wavering slightly.

You were surprised by the emotion packed in his words; you swear his eyes were glistening. “I’ll be okay,” you reassured. “Just know that if I see you on the battlefield, I’ll fly down and kick your ass.”

Azriel’s lips twitched into a smile and then you winnowed, leaving a faint scent of lilacs.

Not too far away were the figures of Cassian, Rhysand, and Feyre huddled by a supply caravan pretending to be in a conversation. Feyre had learned you were Azriel’s mate a couple of days after the males found out. Cassian was giddy at all hours of the day, Rhysand kept pestering Azriel, and whenever Feyre saw the shadowsinger, he would be engulfed in shadows with his eyes staring off into the distance. It didn’t take long before Feyre could coax the answers out of her mate.

Because Azriel was Azriel, they had no solid idea how your relationship was progressing. So when they heard your banter, they all bit back smiles, they’ve never heard him talk this much. It gave them even more reasons to fight for their future, and their family's happiness.

***

             The sheer size of Hybern’s army was staggering. There was no point trying to skew your perception to make you feel better. It was just a fact that Hybern had the larger army, but it didn’t mean Prythian didn’t have a few tricks up her sleeves.

The High Lords had ordered you to go to the front lines for the magic portion of the battle. Thesan didn’t like the idea of you standing too close to the Bone Carver, so he wanted you in the air. Your cousin was scared for you, but you were more concerned about how much power you could unleash.

You hovered close to the Bone Carver, curiosity making you look at the creature as he stared back at you with black eyes. Legends say he appeared differently to everyone and what you saw was a female. You weren’t sure if she was fae, she seemed otherworldly, beautiful, and ancient. She looked like death, not in the sense she looked ill and weak, she was death personified. You found that the longer you looked at her, the sense of dread rose like bile in your throat.

The Bone Carver could feel the sharp darkness from you and cocked its head. “Peculiar,” murmured the Bone Carver.

Before you could ask what he meant, something next to you materialized, with a hand on the hilt of your sword, you turned to see an even more terrifying creature.

Bryaxis.

You’ve heard scary stories about him in your youth, it was a creature that parents used to make their children behave. You remember only feeling safe from the creature once you learned it had been imprisoned in Night Court for centuries. Its dark shadowy figure loomed over you despite hovering a couple of feet from the ground. You heard shocked murmurs coming from both sides, no one was expecting this.

Steeling yourself, you looked at Bryaxis and dipped your head, even if you wanted to run for the hills. While glamoured, Bryaxis had the time to examine you, it felt that overwhelming power the Bone Carver talked about. There was something else, there was something familiar about you, but it couldn’t place it. You seemed too young to have met it before it was imprisoned.

You guess there was more excitement because next to the Bone Carver, appeared the Weaver. She was young and pretty unlike the stories you’ve heard of an old hag, meaning she must have feasted recently. She paid no attention to you; she was more occupied with the seemingly stunned Bone Carver.

“Golden warrior,” hissed Bryaxis.

The whisper of Bryaxis felt like insects crawling up your neck. You narrowed your eyes and looked at its terrifying face. You tried not to stare at its huge claws as it blinked and studied your figure.

“Yes?” You thanked the mother your voice didn’t tremble.

“If you are what I think you are, I have met you before,” hissed the creature. You weren’t even sure if its mouth was moving, you think it responded to you like a daemati.

“That’s impossible, I would have remembered.”

“No!” growled Bryaxis. “Not you, your predecessor.”

Your eyes widened at his admission. What did he mean? Has he met your parents? You asked but it ignored your questions. It started to whisper something nonsensical about war and killing as it looked toward the terrified Hybern soldiers.

Atop a grassy knoll, Azriel gawked as he watched you interact with the immortal creatures. Everyone around him sucked in a breath when he saw you speaking to Bryaxis. Rhysand could tell Azriel was itching to intervene, drag you away from danger so Rhys stood next to his brother.

What the hell is she doing? thought Azriel. Is she not scared?

He could tell both armies were watching you, some Prythians knew who you were but this set of Hybern soldiers were bewildered. Their soldiers probably couldn’t tell what was so special about this winged female, their shields preventing them from feeling your power. They wondered about your place amongst these dark immortal creatures. The soldiers in the front began to feel uneasy about the seemingly normal faerie.

The earth started to shake as the High Lords and Hybern started using their magic to take down the shields. Giving up on getting answers from Bryaxis, you took this as your cue to get ready. You flew high enough to the point where you could see most of Hybern’s army. Your wings flapped steadily as you looked forward and emptied your mind, ridding any feelings of uncertainty.

With your palms facing Hybern, you think of all the faeries you were protecting behind you. Gold and bronze light slowly leached from your skin and turned to wisps, each thought of your family, friends, and court made you glow brighter. The swirling wisps extended from your body and the enemy gulped at your display of power. Thesan, who was concentrating on using his magic to take down the shields grinned maniacally as he saw what his cousin was capable of.

Breathing deeply and slowly, you extended your arms out to the sides as more power gathered in your core. You think of the innocent children; faeries and humans who deserved a peaceful life ahead of them. The power that surged in and around you felt insane, you don’t think you’ve conjured this much energy in your entire life. You felt vicious and you were counting down the seconds you could get your hands on the Hybern bastards.

The moment you felt Hybern’s shield fall, you roared as power erupted from your body. The light you emitted was strong enough to blind a faerie if they didn’t close their eyes fast enough. Gold and bronze flung out as you slashed your arm in the air and then the screaming started. Your magic was faster than the dark creatures below you, so Hybern tasted your death first. Soldiers gurgled on their own blood as they bled from every orifice, some screamed in agony as their insides liquified, and others just dropped dead.

There was so much energy thrumming inside you and this time, something felt different, like you had unlocked a new ability. Out of instinct, you raised a hand, and a pulse of gold wisps hurtled towards the target. Moments before the blast hit Hybern, the wisps turned into a thick bronze mist that hung heavily in the air. You could barely see through the fog but when it cleared, a gasp escaped your lips. Piles of bodies lay unmoving on the ground; the mist had killed everything in its path forcing Hybern’s armies to split into two.

Hundreds of bodies turned into thousands, and the Court’s armies roared their war cries. Now that Bryaxis, Bone Carver and the Weaver had crossed enemy lines, the sounds of screams became louder. Prythian soldiers marched forward and began to fight. You stayed in the air sending blasts of your poison hoping it would reach and weaken those in the back. Once you felt your magic sputter, you fell back and flew to the Peregryn and Illyrian legions.

The Peregryn commander grasped your arm and brought you close. “Holy shit, y/n! I knew you could do it!” grinned Callon.

You panted and rested your head on Callon's shoulder for a moment. “I didn’t know I could do that!”

“I hope you have more fight in you, my lady. We start aerial attacks in 60 seconds.”

The wicked smile on your face was enough of an answer for Callon. You unsheathed Deception and poised your arm ready for anything.

The booming orders of Callon and Cassian first sent the archers and then the rest of the legions charging toward the Attors who were making their way toward you. Everything felt like a blur as the winged squadrons plummeted to the earth and took the fight to the ground. Magical shields were useless against ash arrows, forcing everyone to switch to physical shields. You were immediately splattered with blood, but you didn’t care as long as it wasn’t yours.

You moved in a deadly dance with anything that came close to you whether it was a soldier, Attor, or hound. It was rhythmic and sometimes you didn’t even have to think, it was all instinct. You spotted a squad of Peregryn warriors having trouble with Attors about a hundred feet into the air. With a twitch of your wings, you shot up to the sky and showed no mercy to the clawed creatures.

You were catching your breath and preparing to dive down into the fray when you swear you heard someone calling your name. Brows furrowed, you looked toward the Prythian side. You heard it again, it sounded desperate and guttural, and your wings and body felt compelled to follow the direction of the voice. A second later, you see Cassian with his flaring siphons shoot up near you and start flying as fast as he can toward Rhysand.

“What is he doing?” you murmured.

Then, something in the air shifted, something powerful and ominous from over the hill on the Hybern side. You looked back at Cassian’s frantic figure getting smaller in the distance.

Something was wrong and you didn’t like it.

“FALLBACK!” you roared. “FALLBACK!”

The Peregryns and Illyrians who heard immediately withdrew and followed you in the skies. You felt searing heat behind and just before a white light reached you, you thrusted your magic outwards creating a bubble of protection around the Peregryns and Illyrians closest to you. Those with siphons locked their magic into your shield at the same time. The siphon shields and your magic held on just long enough to hurtle you and those under your protection backward into the sky. Once your wings stabilized, you cried out in horror as you saw the ashes of thousands of Illyrians and Peregryns drift to the ground.

You wildly looked around for Callon, your eyes wide with fear as you scanned the disoriented Peregryns and Illyrians. It was Callon who found you, his hands reaching for your shoulders needing to see for himself you hadn’t been killed.

“Find Thesan,” ordered Callon, his voice desperate. “Dawn needs a future, and you are its future. Find Thesan and stick with him… I’ll feel better knowing you’re together.”

Your eyes widened in shock. Callon has never, ever spoken to you in that tone before. He respected your rank and title in the court and Dawn’s royal family. This was the voice of a commander who knew that whatever that blast was, was something you could not beat.

“But what about- “

“We’ll be okay, we’ll integrate with the Illyrians, and Wyla and Bersk can help me manage what's left of our legion,” said Callon. He paused; his eyes begging you to listen to him. “Please.”

With a nod goodbye, you turned around and sent out two sharp whistles. A second later, you heard Thesan’s response toward your left. You winnowed next to him, and he breathed out a sigh of relief. In a similar fashion to Callon, he cradled your face and looked you over for injuries.

“I thought you were gone. The blast-- I thought I lost you,” said Thesan. He was panting from magical exhaustion and his eyes were glistening at the thought of your death.

Your lip trembled before you forced a smile onto your face. “I would be if you didn’t call my name.”

Thesan shook his head. “That wasn’t me… I mean I heard someone scream your name, but I was too busy holding the shields over the foot soldiers.”

“Then who was it?”

Thesan’s eyes flickered toward the shadow that discreetly held onto the shoulder of your armor. It was expertly placed, somewhere you wouldn’t notice if you weren’t looking for it.

“I don’t know,” replied Thesan. “It doesn’t matter now, what’s important is you’re here.”

Thesan filled you in on what was happening, he explained that Spring, Autumn, and human armies had joined in. Hybern was using the Cauldron to target the death gods which was one of the reasons why Thesan wanted you near him. It was strange to be on this side of the battle, the part where the High Lords and their second in command stayed back to delegate and fight only when needed.

Everywhere you looked was filled with chaos and death. Prythian armies were slowly getting overwhelmed and just when things couldn’t get worse, Rhysand sent out a magical warning that Hybern ships were approaching your side. Flying over to where Rhysand and his court were standing on the cliffside, you gathered your power and sent out bursts of poison toward their armada. You could hear the screams of agony and bodies dropping on the decks, but it wasn’t enough. Your power couldn’t reach that far out, and more ships were coming your way. Your magic reserves were always quick to restore but this was a battle, you were never going to have enough. Tapping into everything, you managed to conjure the bronze mist, but it was only enough to cover one ship.

You staggered forward, panting from exertion. Cassian placed a hand on your elbow and pulled you down to sit. “Rest,” he insisted. “You’re going to do more bad than good if you completely deplete yourself.”

You looked at him and saw the same guilt that you felt. You had both survived the blast and there was nothing you could do to change that.

Your gasps for breath were slowly turning into hyperventilating sobs. Until now, the shadow on your shoulder had stayed quiet to avoid detection. It chittered reassuring words but you were too occupied to notice.

“If I don’t do something we’re all going to die sooner or later,” you said bluntly.

Rhysand, Feyre, Cassian, and Nesta looked at each other solemnly, they knew you were right. Rhys almost called for Azriel to come back and be here with you, but he couldn’t, he needed Azriel to be within the northern flanks.

Concentrating on refilling your energy, you tried to block out the voices of Night Court and stared at the daunting sea. You had managed to take down fifteen ships, all of them crashing together now that there was no one to steer them. Your poison slowed Hybern but in thirty minutes, you were sure the rest would make their way to shore.

You were feeling completely hopeless until the sounds of horns announced the arrival of thousands of white-feathered Seraphim and countless warships from different nations. Their presence had tipped the scale, and it gave Prythian a fighting chance. With a renewed sense of energy and spirit, you and Thesan fought hard as the battle reached you.

It was interesting to fight amongst white-feathered fae, the Peregryns grinning whenever a Seraphim jumped in to help them. You fought wherever the battle would take you, sometimes next to Thesan or several feet above.

The smell of blood and screams of mercy overtook your senses and it began to get overwhelming again, the chaos never ending. You knew you were going to see Peregryns die, you thought you were prepared but you weren’t. Screaming in horror, you watched Wyla’s limp bloodied body dive toward the earth. She was one of the best warriors you had ever seen and now she was gone.

You don’t think you’ve stopped moving, one hand holding your sword and the other hand shooting magic. You would see a Prythian soldier faltering and either you or Thesan would send your magic to heal whatever it could.

Heal, stab, poison, slash, and heal again. It was a never-ending cycle, and you were beginning to think Hybern may be winning again. As long as Hybern had the Cauldron, you were afraid Prythian would fall. You overheard Feyre and Amren talking about going to the Caudron and you prayed to the Mother they had a plan.

You had just killed an Attor, its head was still in your hand as you watched its body plummet to the ground. A cry came out of your lips when you saw all High Lords had transformed into their monstrous beast forms. You saw an obsidian-winged beast, a golden-winged creature with razor-sharp talons but what made you stagger in the air was Thesan in his gold and white phoenix form. The beast form was the High Lords’ last case scenario, and this only meant one thing.

Prythian was losing.

Even if you were exhausted and bloody, you kept going. You refused to die today. You had dived into the Attor legion, killing swiftly and quickly. A glimmer of blue cobalt shined in the corner of your eye and when you turned to look, a gasp escaped your lips. Fighting alongside the obsidian beast and the white and gold phoenix was Azriel.

What the hel is he doing? Anger boiled within you at the sight of the blue-siphoned Illyrian. He’s not healed yet, he’s going to get hurt.

You noticed he was getting surrounded by Hybern creatures and before you could dive down, you felt claws grab onto your wings. Your eyes went wide as you tried to turn but it was too late, claws had dug into your back and left wing as if it were trying to rip your wing off. A blood-curdling scream erupted, and you flailed trying to get the creature with your sword. An Attor popped up in front of you and just as you tried to hit it with poison, something pierced into your stomach. Before it could fully drive in its dagger, something bright, scorching, and fiery flew close to you.

Then you were falling.

You couldn’t move, you had no control over the only thing that could stop you from falling to your death. Your hands reached out and clawed the air as if there was an invisible rope you could latch onto. Terrified panic was the only thing you felt, like many times before, you were alone and left to your own devices. No one was going to catch you.

All you could see was the blur of your arms and blood-stained wings as you hurtled to the ground.

It won’t be too long now, you thought. The impact will kill me.

There was nothing you could do so you closed your eyes.

a/n: Hello! Don't forget to comment and reblog, I love love love reading your thoughts and reactions! Thank you for reading :)

[danvy121994]

promised pt 2

authors note: hello! sorry for being so inactive but I have lots of exams wright now and I managed to this chapter just yesterday. Hope you enjoy! <3

also I’m new to the world of fan fiction writhing so if anyone can tell me how to respond in the comments it would be amazing! also thanks everyone for the support!

anthony bridgerton x reader

synopsis: after the ceremony, you realise that you won’t be as sad as you thought you would be with the bridgerton

He couldn’t believe that in a week he would be wed to a woman he had never met, in fact he believed that if it wasn’t for that foolish pact that her mother had with her silly little friend, he would have wed sometime in his thirties, not out of love of course, he would have simply chosen the diamond of the season and marry her, it wouldn’t have been that hard since he’s a viscount, but of course his mother wasn’t really fond of his future projects even if over the course of the years his mother actually regretted the decision of marrying him of , or at least that’s what she said; but that now didn’t matter because he was in the only place in which he felt comfortable in past few weeks before the marriage, in his favorites mistress arms, on her bed, after a long night full of desire and longing, but even that couldn’t stop he’s thought on the matter, since he found out about the agreement he’s been asking around about the girl he was going to marry, her mother didn’t knew much she just told him that she was a very beautiful girl and that she was very polite and studious, but that was all she knew, and asking other gentlemen’s led him to nothing, for all he knew she lived on the country side, kind of isolated and has never interacted much with the ton, she appeared for the first time in London during her first season, in wich she got courted from a couple of gentlemen that were quickly sent away, but that was everything he knew, it wasn’t nothing of course, but still, he was marring a complete stranger.

“Come on brother! The worst that could happen its her looking like an ogre!”

needles to say that after sais comment, Colin Bridgerton got rightfully hit in the head by a flying fan, lady Danbury looked at the boy and with an offended tone replayed “ I’ve meet lady Y/S/N personally, and let me tall you, she’s a fantastic woman, she will integrate well with the family!”. Obviously out of all the people that he asked to he didn’t ask lady Danbury, of course! As soon has he got the courage of asking lady Dembury more about you, the priest informed him that the ceremony was starting and not long after the doors of the church opened, The Woman was walking arm in arm with who he supposed was her father, he was an interesting man, not handsome but not ugly, he also managed to have a look at her mother and for her age she wasn’t that displeasing, in fact she looked quite younger than his mother, maybe she was, considering that he didn’t know much about his spouse’s family either, he could only guess. As soon as she reached the altar both her and her father bowed, and since he is a gentleman he did the same, the Woman then stepped up the steps of the rostrum and positioned herself before him; she still had her veil covering her face but he could kind of see her face; and then she took it of. Anthony was pleased of the fact that at least he didn’t have to procreate and look at a hideous face for the rest of his life, in fact she was kind of pleasing to the eye, maybe even beautiful.

After the end of the ceremony he didn’t speak a single word to her, did he think she was ugly? If that was the case then maybe she was more free than she thought, she wouldn’t have to go through the whole horrible experience of having to bed with the Viscount and maybe he would only speak to her when necessary, maybe it was a good thing, she was thinking to herself whilst her mother and Lady Violet Bridgerton were speaking to one another, but that didn’t last long before she was whisked away from a pair of strong arm, when she turned, she saw a girl, a couple of years younger tha her and she was wearing the Bridgerton signature color, light blue, and beside her another girl, much shorter and with a bright yellow dress, that was quite inadequate to the occasion, after a litte bit of explaining you found out about their names, the girl in blu was named Eloise, the one in yellow Penelope Fethetington; the three of you started talking, and for once during the whole day you felt that you were in the wright place with the wright people, “ and I love her ok, but just because she was the diamond last season, now people have high expectations on me and I don’t wanna let them down” Eloise as been talking about this for about an hour, and you felt bad for her, you haven’t known her for long but could already tell how much her family didn’t understand her, from their eyes she was just a troubled girl who was looking for attention, and it couldn’t have been farther from the truth, as both you and Penelope were trying to help her speak of her emotions ,someone , who you recognised as one of the Bridgerton brothers since he was standing with the Viscount at the altar, came in the room in wich you girls were hiding, “ what are you girls doing?” Said the Bridgerton, “ our new Viscountess has to have a ball with Anthony to open the dances” he said looking at you “Of course, my apologies” you said and after bowing, you got whisked by said brother to dance in the arms of your husband.

(another) author note: Hi! I hope you are enjoying my story<3 I don’t know when I’m going to post the continue of this story, but as soon as I can i’ll start writhing again! also I was wondering if anyone would be interested in a mike schimit x reader fan fiction, maybe a one shot, let me know in the comments!

tag list: @khaylin27

[trianna-phoenix]

i really like the way you draw bilbo. i haven't finished reading the hobbit, so i was wondering if you have a reason for giving him a little braid, if its in the novels or if you came up with the idea? and if the latter is true, are you okay with other people drawing him that way as well? :)

Wow I’m so sorry it took me so long to respond but yes! There is a reason, it’s not my own original idea but it’s a rather popular headcannon that in dwarven culture, since they’re so hair centric, that a courting bead is used to show off someone’s marriage status. So the little braid and bead I draw bilbo with is to symbolize his marriage with thorin!

Thank you for asking, sorry I don’t go through my inbox often 😓

[elusivewildflower]

Santa, Baby | Court Gentry x F! Reader

Pairing: Court Gentry x F! Reader (from The Other Fitzroy series)

Summary: Set three years in the future, your family is finally safe and settled from the events of this unfinished series, The Other Fitzroy. It's your first Christmas in a home you can truly call your own, and Court took it upon himself to place presents under the tree in the middle of the night. You hadn't expected him to take the job so seriously, but you have to admit, the Santa suit looks good on him.

Warnings: Smut. Very small amount of roleplay? Unprotected p in v. Oral Sex (f receiving). Breeding kink. Talk of pregnancy. Christmas eve & morning festivities.

Word Count: 3k

A/N: I know this is a tad bit late, but I've been so busy and suffering from writer's block that this is all I could get finished. Because it's late, this has not really been proofread or edited all that much, so all mistakes are my own and I'm sorry if this is terrible! I haven't finished a fic in.....god knows how long.

Out of the corner of your eye, you spot a red-cladded figure creeping down the stairs. For a moment, you’re confused. A second later and your heart is swelling in your chest as you lean against the doorway for a better view. Court had insisted on being the one to place the presents under the tree while Claire and Lyla were sleeping. You hadn’t argued, after all, he was the only one who could move throughout the house without making a single noise. But you hadn’t expected him to take the job so seriously. He wasn’t donning a long white beard and his physique certainly didn’t match that of a typical Santa, but the red suit and hat he wore was quite convincing. A smile spread across your face as you watched him place each present under the tree with a caring precision only he possessed. 

Court didn’t spare you a glance until he was sneaking back up the stairs, presumably to get more presents, as you could tell a few were missing. It had been three years since your family were kidnapped by Lloyd and his men, and it was the first Christmas in which you were finally safe and settled. As he shot you a wink, his lips curling up into his signature smirk, you felt a familiar heat course through you. God, you didn’t think you’d ever stop reacting to him in this manner. All it took was one look from him and your panties were soaked. Your thighs squeezed together as his form descended back down the stairs. It took everything in you not to disrupt him, so you settled for a distraction. You snagged one of the cookies left out for Santa on the coffee table and resumed your previous position against the doorway to the kitchen.

Once the last present was laid beneath the tree, Court silently walked towards you. He gestured to the cookie you were snacking on while ogling him. “I think that was left for me,” he teased. 

You hummed in response and offered it to him. “I’m sorry, they were just too good to resist.” 

Taking a bite of the sugar cookie you held in front of his face, Court gave a hum of appreciation. “No argument there.” He agreed, resting his arm on the wall above your head as he leaned in to press his lips to yours. 

It didn’t take long for the kiss to deepen, your arms wrapping around his neck as his tongue sought entrance to your mouth. Your lips parted immediately, allowing his taste to infiltrate your fifth sense. God, you loved getting lost in him. 

Eventually, the two of you parted for air. As your eyes fluttered open, a jolt of arousal coursed through you. His pupils were blown wide with lust, the blue hues you adored barely perceptible. You couldn’t hide the wicked grin that spread across your face. “Wanna take this upstairs, Santa?” 

His expression mimicked yours as he responded instantly. “I thought you’d never ask.” Court quickly bent down and slid his hands beneath your thighs, lifting you with ease. Instinctively, you wrapped your limbs around him for support. A soft giggle escaped from you at the sudden movement. Even if this was his go-to move, you swore you’d never get used to being swept off of your feet.

Court made the journey to your shared bedroom in record time. The door was shut and locked behind him, ensuring your little one couldn’t waltz in if she woke in the middle of the night. As he approached the bed, you were gently tossed upon it, prompting another giggle from you as you bounced from the force. 

As soon as your back had hit the bed, Court was expertly unclasping his oversized belt and shrugging his Santa suit off. His boots were shucked off and kicked aside before he eagerly crawled over top of you. Your lips collided passionately as Court used his thigh to part your legs for him, his weight pressing down on you in the delicious way that you loved. He rolled his hips against your core, his growing erection pressing directly where you needed him. 

Much to your displeasure, Court pulled away, eliciting a whine from you. 

He tsked disapprovingly, sitting back on his haunches. “Good girls don’t cry when they don’t get what they want.” His calloused hands inched up your sides as he spoke, fingers curling under the hem of your holiday-themed nightdress. “Are you going to be a good girl?” 

You fought back the urge to whine again, pulling your bottom lip between your teeth as you nod. “Yes, I’ll be good.” You verbalize, knowing that’s what he would want. What a good girl would do.

Court nods once, seemingly satisfied with your response. He rucked up your holiday nightdress until your panties were revealed. A low groan emitted from him as he took in the sight of your soaked panties. He wasted no time in removing them, guiding the fabric down your legs and tossing them to the side. This time, a louder groan resounded in his chest as he was met with your glistening folds.

“Now, that is too good to resist.” He complimented huskily. 

His words had heat creeping up your neck and another wave of arousal flooding through you. “Court, please,” you whined impatiently. You needed him to do something. Your walls clenched around nothing, helplessly. You felt as if you were going to explode, or perhaps melt into a puddle of your former self. You didn’t care if he got you off first with his mouth, his fingers, or simply his cock. You’d be blissfully happy with either option, or perhaps you’d be lucky enough for a combination of all three. 

Court ignored your plea, but promptly settled back between your legs, his face hovering mere inches from your pussy. You could feel his hot breath fanning against your skin and it was making you antsy. Thankfully, he put you out of your misery only moments later, when his thumbs parted your folds and his tongue sunk between them. His tongue lapped from your entrance to your swollen bundle of nerves and his fingers dug into the skin of your thighs. Immediately, a moan escaped from both of you in unison. 

“Delicious,” he growled out against you. 

You threaded your fingers through Court’s short, dark hair, seeking purchase to help ground you. If you weren’t careful, you’d start grinding against his face any second. It was only a few moments later when you felt one of his thick digits prodding at your entrance. His finger slipped in with little resistance and quickly found the soft spot that had your toes curling. 

“Oh, fuck.” You moaned out, trying to be mindful of your volume. The door to your bedroom may be locked, but that didn’t mean you wanted to wake anyone who might come knocking. Court focused his tongue upon your clit now that his finger was added into the mix, and after a few minutes, he added a second. It wasn’t fair how quickly he could make you come. Between the warm caresses of his tongue and the delicious stretch of his two thick digits, your orgasm was building at a rapid pace. 

At this point, you had lost all control over your own hips and began to roll them in time with the thrust of his fingers. Normally, if Court wanted to tease you or prolong your pleasure, he’d pin your hips down with his big, muscular arms. When you found no resistance to your movement, you knew he was just as lost in his own pleasure as you were. Your thought was further proven as he began to groan against you, and a quick glimpse revealed his hips thrusting into the bed in search of friction. 

A whimper fell from your lips from the sight, and as your walls clenched around his fingers, both of you knew your orgasm was imminent. “I-I’m gonna….” You warned, your words melding into a moan as he hooked his fingers just right inside of you. 

“Come for me, baby.” He encouraged, pausing in his ministrations long enough to speak before returning full force to push you over the edge. 

Court’s free hand rose to cover your mouth with perfect timing as you came. He knew you better than you knew yourself, as the moans you let out upon reaching orgasm were far too loud and you had no control over them. Your walls spasmed around his fingers and your thighs trapped his head in place as your pleasure reached its peak. Court continued to work you through your orgasm, only stopping once he felt a tug upon his hair to signal you were overstimulated. 

As he pulled away, you noticed his beard was soaked with your arousal and a small grin pulled at your lips. Court sat up to push his pants down far enough to free his aching cock, a sigh of relief escaping from him. He wasted no time in settling himself back between your legs, lining his throbbing cock up with your entrance. You hardly got a chance to enjoy the view of his thick, veiny member before it was plunged deep inside of you. 

You and Court moaned in unison as he bottomed out inside of you. As his arms caged you in, you found purchase on his incredibly buff chest. You loved each and every part of Court’s body, but God did you enjoy the feeling of his muscular torso. He didn’t wait long for you to adjust to the stretch of him before he began pounding into you. 

Each thrust of his hips had a whimper tumbling from your lips. Then, when he grew tired of the position, clearly needing to be even deeper inside of you, he wrapped his arms around the back of your thighs and pinned your legs up by your ears. The feeling of his cock reaching such depths was nearly painful, but the slight twinge of pain only made the pleasure feel that much better. That, and the feeling of his bulging biceps against your skin was more than enough to further your arousal. 

“God, you feel so good,” Court groaned out his compliment as his weight pushed you further into the bed. His pubic bone rubbed against your swollen bundle of nerves with every shift of his hips, and you could already feel a second orgasm building within you. The way Court’s cock twitched within you let you know he was nearly there as well, and you couldn’t wait for him to fill you up. You clenched around him just from the thought of his seed spilling inside. 

Another groan tumbled from Court’s lips in response to your walls clenching around him. Soon, the only sound within the room was skin slapping against skin, noises of pleasure falling from each of your lips, and panting as you fought to catch your breaths. As the muscles in your lower stomach tightened once again, signaling your orgasm wasn’t too far away, Court let out an admission you hadn’t expected. 

“I want another baby,” he managed to growl out in between gasps for air. 

The pleasure had made your brain foggy, and it took you a few moments to understand what he had said. Once everything clicked in your mind, your walls clenched around him tightly, nearly stalling his hips. You were more than okay with that desire. “Oh, fuck, yes, Court, yes.” You moaned. “Put a baby in me.” 

Your words seemed to renew his vigor, as his cock pounded into you with a new urgency. The thought of carrying his child again must’ve been as much of a turn on to him as it was for you. Especially since this time, he’d be here for the pregnancy. He’d get to watch as his child grew within you, as your breasts swelled up with milk, and that was an experience you couldn’t wait for. 

One of his hands slipped between the two of you to circle your clit. He may have been brushing against you with each thrust, but it wasn’t quite enough to send you over the edge again. The direct contact of the rough pad of his thumb was more than enough, though, as within a few rotations and several more thrusts, your second orgasm was washing over you. 

You bit down upon your lower lip to muffle your cries of ecstasy as Court fucked you through your release. Within moments, his hips faltered as he reached his orgasm, spurred on by your own. His cock pulsed as he shot rope after rope of his hot seed within you, a groan resounding deep in his chest. He remained inside of you for a while, both of you catching your breath, before he finally let your legs fall back down to the bed. You could no longer feel them, but truly, you didn’t care. You were completely spent and satisfied. Already, you could feel sleep beginning to overtake you. 

Court pressed his lips against yours in a loving kiss that you happily returned. When Court finally pulled out, he let out a slight hiss of pain, plopping himself beside you. Turning onto your side, you threw your arm across his torso and laid your head upon his chest. In return, Court wrapped an arm around you. It didn’t take very long for the two of you to fall fast asleep.

Abrupt, excited, knocking woke you from your slumber. “Mommy! Daddy! Santa came!” The knocking continued as your daughter shouted through the closed door. “Come on, come on, come on!” 

Even in your half-asleep state, you couldn’t help but chuckle. 

“We’ll be right there, sweetie.” Court called out before you could respond. Of course, he would be awake before you were. 

“Hurry up! I’ll go wake Claire!” Lyla shouted one last time before her little footsteps padded off down the hallway. A second later and you could hear a series of knocking begin again on Claire’s bedroom door. 

You rolled over to face Court, who was already watching you. 

“Sounds like we need to get dressed,” he mused. 

A grin spread across your face as the excitement of your daughter began to rub off on you. “Yeah, sounds like it.” You murmured in response. A part of you would’ve loved to stay right in bed, naked, all day with Court. Perhaps trying for another baby like he admitted to wanting last night. But, the other half knew you had more important responsibilities right now – and you had to admit, you couldn’t wait to watch Lyla open her presents.

Court pressed a kiss to your forehead before he tossed the covers aside, climbing out of the warm bed. You took a moment to watch the view as he dug around for pajamas in a drawer. You still didn’t understand how you got so lucky. You were torn from your thoughts as a set of pajamas were tossed in your direction. Court had found your clothes before his own, and your chest warmed at the notion. 

You finally climbed out of bed and slipped on the flannel pajamas before finding your fuzzy slippers. Court was by your side seconds later, slipping his larger hand into yours as he unlocked the door and opened it for the two of you to exit. 

Entering the hallway, you found Claire, who was rubbing the sleep from her eyes, as Lyla dragged her towards the stairs. Upon noticing you were up and moving, Lyla let out a shriek. Claire flinched at the loud sound, but you and Court simply laughed. 

“Last one down opens their presents from Santa last,” Court teased. Your little one didn’t want to risk losing and immediately took off full speed down the stairs towards the Christmas tree. 

“Be careful!” You shouted after her, following at a much slower pace. There hadn’t truly been a race, as Claire was far too old to believe in Santa anymore, but even she put a bit of pep in her step to make it more believable for her niece. 

Once you reached the bottom of the stairs, Lyla was already bouncing around and deciding which presents she wanted to rip open first. Finally, she settled on the one that was the most oddly shaped. Claire, ever the photographer, readied her camera to capture every moment that she could. 

It didn’t take long for the first present to be unveiled, as it hadn’t been wrapped so snugly. After all, who truly takes the time to wrap a bike? Your daughter squealed in excitement and fawned over the purple bike for several moments before moving onto the next gift. 

As the two of you watched Lyla happily tear open her presents, you shot a glance in Court’s direction. “I certainly hope I can catch Santa in the act again next year.” You thought aloud, a sly grin pulling at your lips. 

Court’s arm around you gave a gentle squeeze as he shot you a wink. “I think your chances are fairly high. After all, you have the best cookie he’s ever tasted.”

“Ugh, gross.” Claire whined out in disgust, her nose scrunched up as she took a step further away from the two of you. 

A snort of laughter escaped from you and Court chuckled softly. Your voices had been soft in volume, but apparently not soft enough. The teenager tried her best to keep her distance as she continued to take photos of her niece opening presents.

After a moment, you settled your head against Court’s chest and happily took a sip from your steaming cup of coffee. As the sound of wrapping paper being ripped apart continued, Lyla suddenly let out a scream. She had finally reached the one present she had begged everyone for. Her very own Barbie dreamhouse. Your eyes flitted between your five-year-old and your sister Claire before raising to meet the eyes of the man who made this life possible. Upon feeling your gaze, Court’s face turned towards yours. His brows quirked up playfully before he spoke.

“Merry Christmas, my love.” His soft voice rumbled in his chest as he leaned down to hover his lips over yours. 

“Merry Christmas.” You returned just as softly, closing the gap between you as you shared a gentle, yet loving, kiss.

[mollycabot]

Casey Novak X Sister Reader Nice to meet you

A/N Casey decided to visit her sister and introduce her to her girlfriend Alex.Using One of my Oc’s same

It was other long day for Casey and Alex and they both were looking forward to leave work.

“Hey love you ready?” Casey said walking Into Alex’s office. “Yes just tidying up” Alex responded. Once they there both done they locked up their offices and made their way out of the court house.

On their way back they decided to stop at Casey’s sister’s house as they had planned to meet up so Casey could get Alex and molly to meet each other.

Once outside Molly’s apartment Casey knocked on the door. “CASEY” and young girl said and pulled Casey into a hug.

“Please come in I made coffee and biscuits” Molly said as Alex and Casey walked In and remove their coats and place the briefcase tidily in the hall and took a seat in the living.

Alex looked around the living room and said “this is lovely”. “Yes this is my sister molly she loves art and books she spends most of her time painting, reading or watching tv” Casey said as molly came in with a tray of drinks and took a seat in her arm chair.

“So molly how you been?” Casey said. “Good thanks sis I’ve just finished a book which was really good and then I’ve just been painting and getting ready to sell them” molly said.

“Who is this lady?” Molly asked tilting her head to the side causing Casey to laugh this is “my girlfriend Alex , Alex this is my sister molly”.

“Hi Alex nice to meet you” molly said as Alex went to shake her hand molly tense and gave a small wave.

“Sorry Alex I forgot to mention molly has autism and gets unsure of new people” Casey explained and Alex nodded and waved back.

“So molly you know Casey told me a lot about you it’s nice to finally meet you” Alex said and molly smiled.

Casey and Alex sat there with their coffees and were confused when molly got up without saying anything.

After a little while molly came back holding a small black cat and Alex’s heart melted at the cute fluff ball in the younger girls arms “this is my cat midnight” molly said placing the cat in Alex’s lap and Alex happily pet the cat.

“He’s my favourite furry friend and he’s always there”molly explained and alex nodded. “Oh Casey I almost forgot here” molly said taking out a box this is for yours and Alex’s apartment.” As molly pulled out a painting.

“Oh gosh molly that’s so beautiful” Alex said as Casey agreed. “Glad you like it, it’s my way of saying I support you two and glad Casey finally found someone” molly said and Casey eyed rolled.

“Hey mols” Casey spoke and molly look up “me and Alex where having a clear out and we got you some books” molly smiled and went through the box.

“Thank you so much Alex and Casey I love them she said placing them on her already full bookshelf.

“I think next time we visit we shall have to get you a bigger bookshelf” Casey laughed “but I like this one” molly protested.

After Casey and Molly’s parents passed Casey decided to step up and help her sister out and make sure she was ok almost every day when she started dating Alex she was worried how molly would have reacted and was glad it went ok.

“Well would you look at the time, we should get going case” Alex said and Casey agreed.

Molly pulled herself away from the books for a while as she showed her sister and Alex out and thanked them for coming.

“Now you behave and look after yourself sis and I’ll stop by tomorrow to help with the food shopping and that new bookshelf” Casey laughed as her sister complained.

Alex smiled at her girlfriend and her sister and once molly closed the door Alex turned and said “she such a lovely girl” Alex said and Casey agreed “she truly a gift and I would never change her, glad today went really well for the both of us and my sister.” Casey said as they head to the car.

A/N I’m back from taking a break and I’m currently working on finishing some drafts as they are beginning to build up lol thank you all for the support still while I’ve been away much love and got more fanfics coming soon. ☺️

[florence-end]

Don’t touch

Lucien x fem!reader

Request: Can you please write a story where Lucien and the reader are on a mission and they are ambushed and the reader is injured, they have to hide and Lucien has to take care of her.

Warnings: Non-fatal injury to reader

Summary: You hear of Eris and his brothers’ plot to attack Lucien and Feyre as they flee the Spring Court, and know you can’t let them hurt your childhood best friend so you follow them. Reunited with Lucien and injured from the fight, you find yourselves huddled in a cave confronting new and unexpected feelings.

Was this your smartest idea? Absolutely not. You hadn’t seen Lucien in decades and even before he’d left the Autumn Court he’d been a skilled fighter so realistically your limited combat skills would not be much of an asset if it came to a fight. But you’d heard his brothers gloating about how they’d have the element of surprise when they attacked him and the Cursebreaker where they hid near the Winter Court border, and you couldn’t just do nothing. He’d been your best friend in the world until they drove him out.

So you snuck out of your parents’ house near Beron’s palace and followed the scent of the high lord’s favourite sons as they hunted for their estranged brother. It took longer than you had expected and you were woefully unprepared for the freezing weather conditions, so much so that you had lost all trace of the lordlings. You were about to give up all hope of being able to find Lucien and his friend when you heard shouting in the distance. Breaking out into a run, you arrived at the fight when it was already in full swing.

You raced across the frozen ground, throwing a shield in front of Lucien and Feyre as you went. The red head whipped his head towards you, shock written across his features.

“Run! Get to the border!” You shouted, as the Vanserras’ arrows attacked your shield from all angles, trying to find a gap.

“Y/N? What are you doing here? You can’t be here,” Lucien remained in place weapons drawn towards his brothers but his wide eyes fixed on you.

You were directly in front of him now and opted to ignore his warning. “Do you have somewhere you can go? Any other courts?” You direct your frantic questions to Feyre.

“Yes, once we get to Winter and the faebane wears off I’ll be able to send a message,” she responded warily, trying to get a read on your relationship to Lucien. His brothers continued to batter the shield you were struggling to maintain around the three of you.

“I can hold this long enough for you to cross but you need to run now,” you instructed through gritted teeth, straining with the effort.

“You have to come with us, they’ll kill you for this,” Lucien urged. Unable to speak with the effort of shielding, you shook your head and placed your hands on his chest to push him in the direction of the border. The moment your hands touched his body, three things happened simultaneously.

One: your shield failed and a faebane-coated arrow pierced your right shoulder.

Two: two winged fae with bright siphons strapped to their fighting leathers appeared from seemingly nowhere.

Three: a mating bond snapped into place, binding you to your childhood friend.

The awe in Lucien’s face quickly melted into pure panic as your legs gave way. He caught you immediately, lowering you to the frozen ground and twisting your bodies so he was shielding you from the fight that was now taking place between the winged males and the Autumn brothers.

“It’s going to be okay, just stay awake for me. I’m going to take the arrow out and everything is going to be fine,” Lucien rushed out, supporting your upper body with his right arm and grasping the arrow protruding from your shoulder with his left. You let out a piercing scream as he pulled the arrow from your skin “I know I know, I’m so sorry. It had to come out so you can heal. I’m so sorry,” he held you close to him as the pain made your vision fuzzy.

One of the winged warriors landed near you, causing Lucien to let out a threatening growl in warning. There was no sign of his brothers now but he leaned even further over you, almost entirely shielding you from the stranger’s sight.

“I’m not going to hurt her. Just let me take her back to the Night Court so someone can check her wound and we’ll send someone to come and get you too,” the warrior offered, holding his hands up to show he didn’t mean any harm and beginning to reach for you. His friend was already scooping Feyre into his arms and preparing to take to the skies.

In his logical brain, Lucien knew that was the sensible thing to do but his instincts were raging a war against logical thought. Here he was, a newly mated male with an injured mate stuck in enemy territory with no option to return to his home without putting you in more danger. He knew Feyre trusted the Illyrians but he couldn’t risk it, not when it came to you. You, who was quickly fading into unconsciousness in his arms.

“Don’t touch her. Leave us,” he snarled, pulling you into him and rallying as much power as the fading faebane in his own system would allow.

Letting out a sigh, the warrior nodded in understanding. “The faebane will fade overnight and her wound should be healed by the morning. We’ll come back for you both then,” he conceded, flying after his friend and Feyre.

Lucien relaxed slightly once you were alone, and managed to winnow you both into a cave on the Winter Court’s side of the border. He used his last remaining magic to glamour the entrance and lay you down on the hard floor before wrapping you in his cloak and fussing around you as he looked for materials to build a fire. Your eyes were closed and he assumed you were asleep until he heard a shaky whisper.

“I always hoped it would be you.”

He sat next to you, taking in every inch of your face as you struggled to keep your eyes open. “Me too. When we were children, I would pray to the Mother every night and beg her to give you to me. As time passed and no bond appeared, I comforted myself with the knowledge that at least I could be your best friend but after everything that happened with my father and brothers, I couldn’t knowingly put you in danger after I left by continuing to contact you. I only wish that our timing was better,” he confessed in return, guilt evident both on his face and in the remorse he was sending down the bond as he thought of the many years that had passed since he left you in the Autumn Court.

“I know. I always knew and never blamed you. Autumn was always more my home than yours,” you comforted him, moving carefully to rest your head in his lap, needing to feel closer to him. He accepted you gratefully.

“What are we going to do?” You asked as he brushed your hair back from your face and rested his warm hand on your cheek.

“I don’t know. Feyre tells me the Night Court isn’t what we were led to believe so maybe we’ll make a home there, or we’ll find a new court. Maybe even leave Prythian altogether. I’ll take you anywhere you want to go. I’m completely yours,” he vowed.

“And I’m yours. You won’t have to be alone now,” you promised.

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This was super self indulgent bc I love Lucien and I just want him to have his person. Thank you for the request!

[purrassicjet]

Me? Posting an exerpt from the same fic for two wip wednesday's in a row? I could never. No, seriously. I could never.

This one's called "Ruin Everything" and it's set in Sophmore year when Sandra Lynn and Jawbone break up k thanks enjoy :)

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Sandra Lynn had only felt this kind of anxiety a couple times in her life. The horrible, deep, sickening anxiety that made her abdomen sting and bile rise in her throat. She felt it when she had first applied for her job with the Solesian Rangers, fearing that she would be kicked out once they found out about her past. Or when she had to walk into divorce court and keep it together when she knew that she didn’t deserve anything she was just about to try and win. And now, waiting for the screen to pop up so she could tell Jawbone that she had betrayed him. She was the reason he was monogamous, and yet she was the one who had broken it. 

There was a blip of magic and Sandra Lynn sat up sharply, bile burning her throat. She stared at the screen in front of her, Jawbone smiled on the other side, waving like nothing was wrong. His face dropped a little when he noticed her expression, his brow furrowed. “What happened?”

“I-” She sputtered out, everything she had prepared, thought about saying, it all fell out of her head the moment she saw him. She was overcome with longing. She tried not to think about missing people whenever she went on an adventure, she had learned that it was better if she didn’t focus on that kind of thing but gods, just seeing him… she knew what she was throwing away. “I’m sorry. I just, I don’t know-”

“Woah, woah.” He held up his hands, “Slow down. Take a deep breath. What happened?”

She followed his instructions, taking a couple deep breaths before starting over again. “We were at a bar after a fight. I had just nearly died,” Jawbone made a small squeak sound but let her continue, “I was stupid and aware of my mortality and I got drunk.” She took another few deep breaths, getting to the hard part, “And I learned that Fig had been getting into disguises and flirting with this old doctor, and so I thought I would teach her how to actually flirt, I wanted to protect her from getting taken advantage of, but I had so many shots and it went further than I thought that it would and…” The words dried in her mouth, memories of yelling rocketing through her mind, arguments, bitter words, spending nights alone knowing it was all her fault, “I slept with somebody else.” She couldn’t bear to look at the screen, staring down at the shaking hands in her lip, “I’m so sorry.”

It took Jawbone a few moments to respond, “Okay.” He started, speaking slowly, “We can talk about this.”

Somehow, that made Sandra Lynn hate herself even more. He was so forgiving. He just wanted to understand her.