#against those who forced their idea of a god onto her

[dreampearls]

collei and scara as different stages of the same experiment is going to kill me

[quinzzelx]

Shadows and Starlight

Part 2

Azriel x Fem!Reader

Summary: It's Starfall and with Starfall come some unpleasant memories. But your excitement to finally see Azriel again wins you over. Catching up with your family, you find that the evening is approaching fast. What happens when Azriel returns and you finally see each other again?

Chapter 01 // Chapter 03

Word Count: 8.8K Well, this is a lengthy one.

Warnings: Canon typical violence, Trauma, Flashbacks of Torture, Mentions of SA, A lot of Family bonding, Angst, Teeth rotting Fluff, and Sexual content. I have not proofread this yet, since I wanted to get this up as quickly as possible. A/N: Oh my god, GUYS!!! I am overwhelmed by the positivity and love you showered the first chapter with! You have honestly no idea how happy this makes me. I'm so glad people seem to enjoy it and I truly hope that this part will do the first one justice. Feel free to comment and share your thoughts. Feedback is always appreciated! Also, come chat with me in my inbox!

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As you wake up on Starfall morning, a sense of weariness washes over you, the remnants of a night spent tossing and turning, haunted by dreams of the past and the phantom pains that still linger in your scars. Despite the soft caress of your satin nightgown against your skin, every movement sends a twinge of discomfort coursing through your body, a reminder of the battles you've fought.

Tracing your fingertips over the pale, jagged carvings that mar your stomach, you're transported back to the horrors of Amarantha's trap, the allure of her twisted game pulling you deeper into her web with each passing moment. Rhys had begged you to stay home, his instincts warning him that something wasn't right about this meeting, this gathering, but something inside you knew that you couldn't sit idly by while he faced danger alone. And so you insisted on accompanying him, despite the protests and the danger it posed to you both. There were moments of doubt, fleeting glimpses of regret that whispered in the recesses of your mind.

Especially in the darkness of those colder, harsher nights. Nights when even the simple act of opening your eyes felt like an insurmountable task, weighed down not just by the heavy iron chains that bound you to the ground, but by the imposing weight of impending death that hung heavy on your shoulders.

Turning onto your side, you wince as you feel the numerous scars on your back, traces of the lashings you sustained at Amarantha's hands. She was cruel in her efforts to use you as a tool to hurt Rhys further, inflicting pain upon pain in her relentless quest for power. But despite the physical scars that mar your skin, it's the emotional scars that run the deepest, the memories of your shared trauma with Rhys threatening to pull you back into the depths of despair.

Your wounds festered, infected by the cruel hands of Amarantha, who took perverse pleasure in keeping them open and inflicting new ones upon you, layering pain upon pain with each lash of her whip. Faebane slowed your healing, leaving you vulnerable to the biting cold that seeped into your bruised body, each breath a struggle against the suffocating grip of agony. On one such night, Amarantha's rage burned brighter than usual, her fury directed solely at you. Bound naked to her bedpost, your emaciated form contorted in unnatural ways, the strain and angle of your bindings causing one shoulder to scream in protest. She carved vile curses into the soft flesh of your stomach, taunting you with each cruel stroke of her blade.

And then Rhys entered, his horror evident in the fleeting glimpse you caught of his face before the mask of stoicism fell back into place. But his appearance ignited something within Amarantha, sparking a twisted idea that would haunt you for years to come. Forced to watch as Rhys administered the next lashes, forced to endure the searing pain as he used his Deamanti powers on you, you felt a sliver of relief amidst the agony as his apologies echoed in your mind, his powers soothing the raw edges of your suffering. He tried numbing your pain, taking away the searing heat that your wounds imposed. But Amarantha wasn't satisfied with just inflicting physical pain – she wanted to break you completely, to strip away every last shred of dignity and humanity. And so she made you watch as she rode Rhys, fucking him without hesitation, with favor, your body still bound to the bedpost, blood dripping down your exposed skin, your chest heaving with shallow breaths. She got off on it, the hot tears running down your face, leaving streaks in the dried blood on your face. Even in your state then, your eyes beheld a promise of death. But never had you felt this helpless, having to watch as Amarantha used Rhys as her personal sex-slave. Rhys was your family, your High Lord! And all you could do was watch.

It was a night of unspeakable horror, one of the darkest moments of your life. And yet, amidst the despair, there was a glimmer of hope – She was this mad because of Feyre, because she wanted to break the curse. As you lay there, on the floor of your cell, embracing the cold arms of death, Rhys hurriedly came barging in. He knelt beside you on the cold stone floor, tears streaming down his face as he cradled your head in his hands, offering what little comfort he could in the face of such unimaginable pain.

"Gods, what have I done?" Rhys whispered, his voice choked with sorrow and regret. "I'm so sorry, Y/N. I never wanted this for you. I never wanted any of this." His words were like a knife to your heart, each apology cutting deeper than the last as you struggled to cling to consciousness. "Rhys," you managed to rasp, your voice barely a whisper. "Don't blame yourself. It's not your fault." But he shook his head, his tears falling freely now as he pressed his forehead against yours. "I should have protected you. I should have never let this happen to you."

You reached up, weakly grasping his hand as you tried to offer him what little comfort you could. "It's not your fault," you repeated, your voice growing fainter with each passing moment. "I love you, Rhys. Please... don't blame yourself."

But Rhys's anguish only seemed to deepen at your words, his sobs wracking his body as he pleaded with you to hold on, to fight against the darkness that threatened to consume you both. "Please," he begged, his voice raw with emotion as he called your name. "Don't leave me. I can't bear to lose you. Please, stay with me." And as you felt the cold embrace of death drawing ever closer, you clung to his hand, drawing strength from the love and warmth that radiated from him. "I'll try," you rasped, your voice barely audible now. "I'll try, Rhys. I promise."

And with those final words, you drifted into darkness, leaving Rhys alone with his grief and his guilt, his tears mingling with yours as he prayed to the Mother for a miracle, for a chance to make things right.

Taking a deep, shaky breath, you try to calm your mind, to push aside the memories that threaten to overwhelm you. Today is supposed to be a day of celebration, a time to put aside the pain of the past and focus on the joy of the present.

As someone knocks at the bedroom door, you groan, burying your face in the pillow, exhausted and emotionally drained from the tumultuous memories that still linger in your mind. Calling out for the person to enter, you brace yourself for the intrusion, the weight of the world pressing down upon your shoulders. To your surprise, it's Rhys who enters, his presence like a balm to your weary soul. As if sensing the chaos within you, he seems equally stressed by the preparations for the day, Nyx cradled in his arms. Your eyes soften when they land on the toddler, his small wings flapping excitedly as he spots you, extending his arms out in a silent plea to be held. Rhys sits down beside you on the bed, a gentle look on his face as he takes in your tired form. Nyx immediately pounces on you, his laughter filling the room with infectious joy. Despite your exhaustion, you can't help but smile at the sight of the young boy, his innocence a welcome distraction from the weight of the world.

"Hey there, little one," you murmur, scooping Nyx into your arms and showering him with kisses. He giggles in delight, his tiny hands reaching out to touch your face with a sense of wonder. Rhys watches the exchange with a soft smile, his violet eyes filled with warmth and affection. "I thought Nyx might help cheer you up," he says gently, his voice laced with concern. "It's been a rough morning, hasn't it?" You nod, unable to find the words to express the whirlwind of emotions that have been swirling inside you since you woke up. But as you hold Nyx close, his laughter echoing in your ears, you feel a sense of peace settle over you, if only for a fleeting moment. Rhys leans closer, his hand finding yours on the bed, offering silent support. "Are you okay?" he asks softly, concern etched in his eyes.

You manage a weak smile, squeezing his hand in return. "I'm... trying to be," you admit, your voice tinged with exhaustion. "It's just... a lot, you know?" He nods understandingly, his thumb tracing comforting circles on the back of your hand. "I know," he murmurs, his gaze softening. "But we'll get through this, together. I promise." The weight of his words hangs heavy in the air, a silent reminder of the bond that binds you both, even in the darkest of times. "Thank you, Rhys," you whisper, your voice barely above a whisper. "For everything."

He smiles, a gentle expression that lights up his features. "Anytime," he says softly, leaning in to press a kiss to your forehead. "We're in this together, remember? No matter what."

As you settle into a more comfortable rhythm, the conversation shifts to lighter topics, a welcome distraction from the weight of the morning's emotions. "So," Rhys begins, his tone lighter now, "did you hear about Cassian's little mishap with the ladder this morning?" You raise an eyebrow, a hint of amusement dancing in your eyes. "Oh? Do tell," you urge, a small smile playing at the corners of your lips. Rhys chuckles, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "Well, apparently he thought he could single-handedly take on the task of putting up the decorations," he explains, shaking his head in mock disbelief. "But Feyre and Elain had other ideas."

You laugh at the mental image of Cassian attempting to navigate a ladder while Feyre and Elain guided him from below, their laughter echoing through the halls of the House of Wind. "And then," Rhys continues, a mischievous twinkle in his eye, "just as he was reaching for the top, the ladder slipped out from under him, and down he went!" You can't help but giggle at the thought of Cassian tumbling to the ground, his pride wounded but otherwise unharmed. "Poor Cass," you tease, shaking your head in mock sympathy. "I hope he's okay." The Highlord says, his smile widening. "Oh, he's fine," he assures you. "Just a bruised ego, I think."

Before you can respond, Nyx interrupts with a babble of his own, his tiny hands reaching out to grab at Rhys's hair. You laugh, gently untangling Nyx's fingers from Rhys's locks as you listen to the toddler's excited chatter. Rhys grins, his eyes sparkling with affection as he looks down at his son. "I spoke to Azriel yesterday," he says casually, shifting the conversation back to more serious matters. "He should be back today, just in time for Starfall."

You feel a surge of anticipation at the mention of Azriel's return, your heart skipping a beat at the thought of seeing him again after his absence. "That's great news," you reply, trying to keep your voice casual despite the butterflies in your stomach. "I'm sure he'll be relieved to be home." He nods, a knowing glint in his eye. "Oh, I'm sure he will be," he says cryptically, a teasing smile playing at his lips. "After all, there are certain people who have been eagerly awaiting his return."

You roll your eyes, unable to suppress a smile at Rhys's playful teasing. "You're incorrigible," you tease, giving him a playful shove. "But I'm glad Azriel's coming back. It's not the same without him." The conversation ebbs into comfortable silence as you play with the toddler sat on your lap. When you notice Rhys’s eyes glaze over, the violet of his eyes dulling just slightly, you look at him with a cocked eyebrow. “Is our Highlord required somewhere?” You ask with a small smile on your lips. “Yes, I fear duty calls.”

As Rhys leaves with Nyx in tow, a sense of tranquility settles over you, the bustling energy of the morning quieting to a gentle hum. With a sigh of relief, you make your way to the bath, the promise of warm water and solitude beckoning to you like a beacon in the storm.

Sinking into the soothing embrace of the bath, the warmth seeping into your tired muscles and easing the knots of tension that had been building within you. With each passing moment, the cares of the world seem to slip away, replaced by a sense of peace and calm that settles deep within your soul. With each passing moment, you feel yourself growing lighter, the weight of the morning's emotions gradually fading into the background as you focus on the simple pleasure of being present in this moment. Only when the skin on your hands starts to wrinkle, do you decide to leave the comfort of your bath.

After drying off, you quickly set about getting ready for the day ahead. With practiced ease, you slip into your clothes, the fabric smooth against your skin as you dress. You run a brush through your hair, smoothing out any tangles and pulling it back into a simple yet elegant style. With one last glance in the mirror, you nod in satisfaction, a sense of determination settling over you. Today is a new day. Starfall to be exact. You would not let the past control the present.

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As you make your way downstairs, noon is just beginning to unfold, the soft light of the early sun filtering through the windows of the House of Wind. The air is filled with the gentle hum of activity as preparations for the evening's festivities are underway. You take a moment to admire the decorations that Cassian had so painstakingly put up, a fond smile playing at the corners of your lips as you remember his earlier mishap with the ladder. Despite the chaos of it all, there's a sense of excitement building in the air, a unmistakable energy that sets your heart racing with anticipation.

Making your way to where Feyre and Elain were sitting in the kitchen, you exchange greetings with them, falling into easy conversation. The smell of freshly brewed tea fills the air, and you can't help but relax as you sink into a chair at the table. "So, what's on the agenda for today?" Feyre asks, pouring a cup of tea for each of you.

Elain smiles softly, her doe-eyes lighting up with excitement. "I was thinking of spending some time in the gardens," she says. "I've been working on a few new plantings, and I'd love to show them to you." You nod eagerly, honestly intrigued by Elain's passion for gardening. "I'd love to see them," you reply, a genuine smile tugging at the corners of your lips.

Whilst you sip your tea, the conversation turns to lighter topics, and you find yourself laughing and joking with Feyre and Elain. It's moments like these that remind you of why you cherish your time with them. Suddenly, Elain's voice breaks through your thoughts, her tone soft and earnest. "I'm so glad Azriel is returning today," she says, her eyes shining with sincerity. "I've missed him." A pang of jealousy and irritation shoots through you at her words, catching you off guard. You quickly brush it off as simple irritation, unwilling to acknowledge the twinge of envy that lingers in the depths of your chest. Elain, oblivious to your internal turmoil, continues to speak, her words pulling you back into the conversation. "And I've missed you too," she adds, her voice filled with warmth and affection.

You nod, forcing a smile. "Yeah, I missed you too." But inside, you can't help but feel a twinge of envy at the thought of Elain's closeness with Azriel. Before the awkwardness can settle in, however, Elain changes the subject, her eyes lighting up with excitement as she again talks about the new plants she's planted in the gardens of the Riverhouse.

"That reminds me," you say suddenly, a spark of delight igniting within you. Your eyes sparkle as you remember the gift you brought back for Elain, reaching into your pocket and pulling out a small packet of seeds. "I found these at a market stall on the continent and thought of you. They're seeds for a flower called... um...“ you stumble over the name for a moment before recalling it. "They're seeds for a flower called Moonlight Blossoms. I thought they might be a nice addition to your garden."

Elain's eyes widen with delight as she takes the seeds from you, her expression one of pure joy. "Oh, thank you!" she exclaims, her voice filled with genuine appreciation. "I can't wait to plant these in the garden. They're going to be beautiful."

After spending a pleasant morning and noon catching up with Feyre and Elain, you accompany Elain to the garden to see her new plants. The garden is a riot of color and fragrance, and you spend a blissful hour wandering among the flowers and chatting with her about her latest botanical discoveries. As you bid Elain farewell and make your way back inside, you realize that the day has flown by in a rush of activity. You quickly run a few last-minute errands for Starfall, picking up some supplies and making sure everything is in order for the evening's festivities.

Time seems to slip through your fingers like grains of sand as you hurry through the bustling streets of Velaris, the excitement of the day building with each passing moment. Before you know it, the sun is beginning to set, casting a golden glow over the city as evening approaches.

With a sense of urgency, you hurry back to the House of Wind, eager to get ready for the evening ahead. Mor had promised to get ready together, and you don't want to keep her waiting. As you enter your room, the blond is already there, surrounded by an array of dresses and accessories strewn across the bed. She looks up as you enter, a bright smile lighting up her face.

"Hey there, gorgeous!" she greets you, her eyes twinkling with excitement. "Are you ready to get glam for Starfall?" You return her smile, feeling a rush of anticipation at the thought of the evening ahead. "Absolutely," you reply, crossing the room to join her. "I can't wait to see what you've picked out." Mor gestures to the dresses laid out on the bed. "I've narrowed it down to a few options," she says, a mischievous grin playing at her lips. "But I think I already know which one I'm going to choose." You chuckle, knowing that Mor always has a flair for dramatics when it comes to dressing up. "Well, let's see them then," you tease, eager to get started.

Together, you sift through the dresses, examining each one carefully and discussing their merits and drawbacks. There are dresses of every color and style, from sleek and elegant to bold and daring. Finally, Mor settles on a stunning gown in deep maroon red, its flowing skirts and intricate beading catching the light as she holds it up.

"This is the one," she declares, a satisfied smile gracing her features. "What do you think?" You nod in agreement, admiring the dress's beauty. "It's perfect," you reply. "You're going to look absolutely stunning." Mor beams at your praise, clearly pleased with her selection. "Thanks, love," she says, reaching out to give you a quick hug. "Now, let's get you sorted out. I have a feeling you're going to steal the show tonight."

As you slip into the dress that you had bought the day before, a soft sigh escapes your lips, the sensation of the fabric against your skin sending a shiver of delight down your spine. The deep midnight blue hue wraps around you like a lover's embrace, casting an delicate glow that seems to illuminate the room. The neckline plunges low, offering a tantalizing glimpse of your cleavage. With each movement, the dress seems to come alive. Mor's eyes widen in admiration as she takes in your appearance. "Wow," she breathes, her voice filled with genuine awe. "You look absolutely stunning."

A soft smile graces your lips as you meet her gaze "Thank you, Mor," you say, your voice barely above a whisper. "I couldn't have found this without your help." She beams at your words, her pride evident in the curve of her lips. "It was my pleasure," she replies, her tone warm and sincere. "But really, the dress suits you perfectly. I almost forgot how it looked on you overnight."

Shortly after she also put on her dress, Mor expertly braids your hair, her nimble fingers weaving intricate patterns, you can't help but admire her skill. With each twist and turn, your hair transforms into a work of art, cascading down your back in elegant waves. You close your eyes, savoring the sensation of her touch, the gentle tugs and pulls lulling you into a state of relaxation. "Your hair is like silk," Mor remarks, her voice filled with admiration. "It's going to look stunning tonight." Once your hair is styled to perfection, Mor moves on to makeup, applying each layer with precision. The dark, alluring makeup enhances your features, accentuating your eyes and highlighting your cheekbones.

Whilst the blond puts the finishing touches on your makeup, you take a moment to admire your reflection. The sultry gaze staring back at you sends a thrill of excitement coursing through your veins, the promise of the evening ahead hanging in the air. "Ready to turn heads?" Mor asks, a playful smirk gracing her lips. "Absolutely," you reply, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips. "Let's make tonight unforgettable."

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As you and Mor descend the grand staircase, the sounds of laughter and music fill the air, signaling the start of the evening's festivities. The House of Wind is alive with energy, the vibrant atmosphere drawing you in as you make your way through the bustling crowd. Mor heads straight for the wine table, her graceful movements drawing the attention of those around her. She expertly pours two glasses, handing one to you with a knowing smile. "To a night to remember," she says, raising her glass in a toast. You clink your glass against hers, a smile playing at the corners of your lips. "To a night to remember," you echo, taking a sip of the rich, velvety wine.

While mingling with the other guests, you can't help but notice the admiring glances and whispered compliments that follow you wherever you go. Cassian whistles at your appearance, his eyes twinkling with mischief as he offers a playful wink. Even Amren, usually reserved and stoic, can't help but be impressed. "Not bad, girl" she remarks in her typical deadpan tone, her lips quirking up in a rare smile. "You look good." While chatting with Cassian, his easy grin and infectious laughter filling the air, you can't help but feel at ease in his presence. He regales you with stories of past Starfall celebrations, each one more outrageous than the last, and you find yourself laughing along with him, caught up in the magic of the moment and the memories.

Amren stands beside him, her sharp gaze surveying the crowd with a mix of curiosity and amusement. She interjects with the occasional dry comment or witty observation, adding her own unique perspective to the conversation. Cassian nudges you playfully, a naughty glint in his eyes. "So, have you seen Az around yet?" he asks, a playful smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

You roll your eyes at his question, knowing full well where he's going with this. "Not yet," you reply with a smirk. "But I'm sure he'll make quite the entrance when he does," you add, your tone dripping with playful sarcasm. Cassian chuckles, his grin widening as he leans in conspiratorially. "You know, I heard he's been practicing his dramatic entrances," he whispers, waggling his eyebrows suggestively. Amren, who had been silently observing the exchange, scoffs in amusement. "Practicing? Please, Azriel was born with dramatic flair," she interjects, her voice dry as ever. You can't help but laugh at Amren's remark, nodding in agreement. "True," you concede, unable to deny the truth in her words. Cassian's grin widens, mischief dancing in his eyes as he leans in closer. "You know, Y/N, if you keep talking about Az like this, people might start to think you have a crush on him," he teases, his tone light but teasing. Mor joins in on the teasing, a playful smirk on her lips. "Oh, come on, Cass," she chimes in, "we all know Y/N's got it bad for Az. I mean, who wouldn't? He's mysterious, brooding, and let's not forget those dreamy eyes."

You roll your eyes at their teasing, but heat creeps up your neck nonetheless. "You two are insufferable," you mutter, trying to play it off coolly despite the warmth you can feel in your chest.

They share a knowing look, their grins widening. "Oh, don't be shy, Y/N," Cassian says with a wink, "we all see the way you light up whenever Az is around."

You sigh in mock exasperation, knowing there's no escaping this. "Fine, you caught me," you admit with a chuckle, "but can we please focus on something other than my nonexistent love life for once?" Mor and Cassian exchange a glance before bursting into laughter.

With an exaggerated sigh, you down the rest of your wine in one swift motion, the cool liquid soothing the annoyance bubbling within you. Setting the empty glass down, you grab another from the nearby tray, filling it to the brim with wine. Cassian and Mor exchange amused glances as they watch your reaction, but you pay them no mind, determined to drown out their taunting with copious amounts of alcohol.

As the night wears on, the rhythm of the music pulls you onto the dance floor, the enchanting melodies winding their way through the air and into your soul. Lost in the music, you move with grace and elegance, allowing the melodies to guide your every step. The lights overhead cast a warm glow on the dance floor, illuminating the faces of those around you as they sway to the music. Couples twirl and spin, lost in their own worlds of love and passion, while laughter and joy fill the air. You watch as Nesta and Cassian sweep over the dancefloor together, having the crowd watch in awe.

With each passing moment, your gaze darts from one corner of the room to the next, hoping to catch sight of him. Your heart beats faster with every shadow that moves, every figure that passes by, as you search for the one person who has occupied your thoughts all evening.

Dancing with an attractive Fae male, his presence envelops you, his hand warm against the small of your back as you sway to the soft, slow tunes. Despite your initial reluctance when he asked you to dance with him, you find yourself enjoying his company, lost in the rhythm of the music and the warmth of his gaze. His blond hair were neatly combed, his bright green eyes gentle and kind as they take in your facial features.

But as his hand begins to wander over your scarred skin, trailing dangerously close to where the fabric of your dress starts again, a shiver runs down your spine. The heat of his touch sends a jolt through you, igniting a familiar sensation. Just as you feel yourself becoming lost in the moment, a sudden shift in the air catches your attention. Without even turning around, you know he's here. As the music continues to play, you can sense him drawing closer, his presence casting a spell over you that leaves you spellbound and breathless. Just as you're about to step away, you sense a familiar presence behind you. The scent of cedar fills your senses, and you turn to find Azriel standing there, his tall frame looming over you.

Before you can even process his presence, he reaches out, gently touching your arm. "May I cut in?" he asks, his voice soft yet commanding. You meet his gaze, the intensity in his eyes sending a shiver down your spine. "Of course," you reply, unable to tear your eyes away from him. As the Fae male steps back, Azriel takes his place, his hand finding yours as he pulls you close. The music shifts to a slower, more intimate melody, and you find yourself swept up in the moment. "It's been too long," you whisper, your voice barely audible over the music. Azriel's gaze softens, his fingers tracing light patterns on your back. "I've missed you," he admits, his voice low and filled with emotion. A surge of warmth washes over you at his words, and you find yourself drawn closer to him. "I've missed you too," you confess, your heart racing in your chest. As you continue to dance, the tension between you and Azriel is palpable, crackling in the air like electricity. His hand lingers on your waist, his touch sending shivers down your spine.

"I can't believe you're finally back," he murmurs, his voice barely audible over the music. You meet his gaze, your heart pounding in your chest. "I can't believe it either," you reply, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips. "It feels like it's been an eternity." Azriel's eyes soften, a hint of sadness flickering in their depths. "I'm sorry I wasn't here to greet you when you returned," he says, his voice filled with regret. "I wanted to be the first one to welcome you home."

You reach up, gently touching his cheek. "It's okay," you assure him, your thumb tracing the line of his jaw. "I know you had your duties to attend to." A faint smile plays at the corners of Azriel's lips then, and he leans into your touch. How he had missed it to feel your gentle reassuring touch. "Still, I wish I could have been here for you," he murmurs, his voice deep and husky. As the song comes to an end, you stare at each other. Reluctantly, Azriel releases your hand, his touch lingering for a moment longer before he takes a step back. The music fades into the background, drowned out by the sound of your heartbeat pounding in your ears.

For a moment, the two of you simply stand there, lost in each other's gaze, the world around you fading away until there's nothing left but the space between you. Then, with a soft smile, Azriel breaks the silence. "Would you like to take a walk?" he asks, his voice gentle and inviting.

You nod, a warm feeling spreading through you at the prospect of spending more time with him. "I'd like that," you reply, returning his smile. Together, you slip away from the dance floor, the night air cool against your skin as you step out onto the balcony. The city sprawls out before you, its lights twinkling in the darkness like a sea of stars.

Feeling his gaze upon you, you can't help but shift slightly under his scrutiny, a blush creeping up your cheeks as you realize just how closely he's examining you. You bite your lip nervously, suddenly hyper-aware of every curve and contour of your body that's on display in the dress. As Azriel's eyes linger on your figure, you can't help but notice the way his gaze seems to heat up, his breath catching in his throat. A thrill shoots through you at the intensity of his stare, igniting a fire in the pit of your stomach.

For a moment, neither of you says anything, the air between you charged with unspoken desire. Then, with a slight cough to clear his throat, Azriel tears his gaze away from you, his cheeks tinged with a faint blush. "I'm sorry," he murmurs, his voice husky with emotion. "I didn't mean to stare." You shake your head, a small smile playing at the corners of your lips. "It's okay," you reply softly. "I... I don't mind."

You reach out tentatively, your hand finding his arm in a comforting gesture. "Azriel," you begin, your voice barely above a whisper, "there's something I've been wanting to tell you." He turns to face you, his eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that sends a shiver down your spine. "What is it?" he asks, concern lacing his every word. You take a deep breath, summoning all your courage. “I-“  Before you can finish your sentence, the door to the balcony swings open, and Feyre steps out, her eyes widening in surprise when she sees the two of you standing there together.

"Oh, sorry," she stammers, quickly averting her gaze. "I didn't mean to interrupt." Azriel clears his throat, stepping back slightly to give Feyre some space. "It's alright," he says, his voice a little strained. "We were just... talking." she nods, though there's a knowing glint in her eyes as she looks between the two of you. "Right, well, I'll leave you two to it then," she says, retreating back inside. You and Azriel exchange a glance, a silent understanding passing between you. It seems that fate has other plans for your conversation, at least for now.

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When Azriel winnowed into Rhys's study earlier that day, he was greeted by the familiar sight of his brother sitting behind the desk, a knowing smirk playing on his lips. Rhys's gaze meets his, and Azriel's eyes widen as the scent of you fills his senses, sending a jolt of anticipation coursing through him. It wasn’t dull and faded, not like the pillows in your bedroom. No, you had to have been in this room today. Rhys raises an eyebrow at his brother’s dumbfounded face, his smirk growing more pronounced. "Took you long enough to notice," he says, amusement lacing his tone.

Azriel's lips twitch into a half-smile as he strides further into the room, his movements fluid and graceful. "I was preoccupied," he replies, his voice gruff. "But I'm here now." Rhys chuckles, leaning back in his chair. "I can see that," he says, his eyes twinkling with mischief. "So, how was your mission?" Azriel takes a moment to compose himself, his mind still reeling from the unexpected encounter with your scent. "Successful," he replies, his voice steady despite the turmoil raging within him. His resolve snapped. "But I'll fill you in on the details later. Right now, I have other matters to attend to."

Rhys arches an eyebrow, a knowing smile playing on his lips. "Of course," he says, his tone teasing. "Wouldn't want to keep her waiting, would you?" Azriel's cheeks flush slightly at his brother's teasing remark, but he maintains his composure. "No," he says, his voice tinged with determination. "I wouldn't."

As Azriel takes flight for the House of Wind, his mind races with a whirlwind of emotions. Excitement courses through his veins, an unexpected thrill at the thought of seeing you again after nine long months apart. He hadn't dared to hope that you would be back, hadn't allowed himself to entertain the possibility of your return. And yet, here you were, your presence filling him with a sense of longing he just started to realize he'd been harboring.

The memory of your scent lingers in his mind, haunting him with its intoxicating sweetness. It's a scent he knows all too well, one that has the power to drive him to madness with desire. Even now, as he flies through the night sky, he can't shake the memory of you, the way your scent wraps around him like a warm embrace. Only yesterday had he thought about that exact smell while fucking his hand wishing it was yours instead.

Cursing himself for his wayward thoughts, Azriel frowns, attempting to push aside the overwhelming tide of emotions threatening to consume him.

As Azriel lands gracefully on the balcony of the House of Wind, he braces himself  for their reunion. He had just made his way here in record time, flying like his life depended on it. His heart pounds in his chest, the anticipation of seeing you again after so long almost too much to bear. With each step he takes, his eyes scan the crowded room, searching for your familiar form amidst the mass of guests.

And then he sees you.

His breath catches in his throat as he takes you in, his brain short-circuiting at the sight of you. You’re wearing a dress, and it clings to you like a second skin, accentuating every curve and contour of your body. His gaze lingers on the scars that trail across your back, a witness to the battles you had fought and the strength you possess. But it's not just your appearance that captivates him. It's the way you move, the grace and confidence with which you carry yourself, as if you own the very air around you. And you do, completely oblivious to the hungry and captivated stares you gain, turning heads everywhere you appear. Then his attention finally shifts to the Fae dancing with you, his hand lingering dangerously close to your exposed skin, and a surge of possessiveness courses through him. You’re wearing his colors, he realizes with a jolt, a flicker of irritation igniting within him at the thought of someone else daring to touch what belongs to him. A growl rumbles in Azriel's chest, low and threatening, as the surge of jealousy within him reaches a fever pitch. He takes a step forward, hazel eyes blazing with anger, his wings flaring out instinctively behind him.

But before he can make his move, Mor appears at his side, a knowing smirk on her lips as she nudges him playfully. "Easy there, big guy," she says, her voice low and playful. "No need to start a brawl on Starfall."

Azriel grits his teeth, torn between his desire to protect what's his and the knowledge that Mor is right. He takes a deep breath, forcing himself to reign in his emotions. While Azriel briefly exchanges pleasantries with Mor, his mind is consumed by thoughts of you. He can hardly focus on their conversation, his attention drawn inexorably back to where you stand across the room. He can feel his Illyrian instincts surging to the forefront, urging him to claim what's rightfully his. Shadowy tendrils dance around him frantically, pushing, pulling, as if they too wanted him to whisk you away from the other male’s embrace.

Finally having had enough, he excuses himself from Mor's company. Azriel prowls across the room with purposeful strides. His presence alone is enough to send a ripple of unease through the crowd, his menacing aura palpable as he approaches. When he reaches your side, the Fae male dancing with you seems to shrink back in fear, intimidated by the intensity of Azriel's gaze. But Azriel pays him no mind, his attention wholly consumed by you.

His shadows whispering words of possession and desire in his ears, chanting “Beautiful, beautiful” over and over. ”Ours, ours” Azriel can hardly contain the primal urges that surge within him. All he can think about is claiming you, marking you as his own for all the world to see. And as he draws closer, the air crackling with anticipation, he knows that he won't be satisfied until you’re in his arms, where you belong. He just wants to sink his teeth into the soft flesh of your neck. Suppressing a groan, he twirls you around, his hands easily finding their way onto your hips, softly squeezing them while leading the dance.

When the song came to an end, he felt like he was stood in the summer courts afternoon sun again. He needed some fresh air, some more quietness, and he selfishly wanted to be the sole bearer of your company.

By the Cauldron, as you made your way onto the balcony, him trailing behind you a few steps, he silently swore under his breath. Suddenly he was questioning his decision to be alone with you. Again, he asked himself why. Why have the last nine months been such a torture? Why did it feel like there was no oxygen left in his lungs when you and Mor had winnowed away and departed for your mission? And only now could he breathe again, truly breathe. And with every inhale, the scent of sweet lilies and freshly fallen rain assaulted his senses, clawing into the very essence of his being.

Only as you shifted on your feet slightly did he notice that he was straight up staring at you. Shit. As a soft blush made its way onto your cheeks then, he wanted to melt. Did you like the way he looked at you? Had the past nine months felt as maddening for you as they had felt for him? Questions upon questions infiltrated his mind as you looked upon Velaris together. And when you spoke again, wanting, no, needing to tell him something, he felt his stomach drop. Had you found someone on the continent?

When Feyre interrupted you mid-sentence solely by appearing, he didn’t know if he should curse or thank her for the disturbance. But the way your brows furrowed and how the light in your eyes ebbed out a little bit, made him feel a pang in his chest.

He cleared his throat, trying to shake off the sudden tension that had settled between you. And as Feyre excused herself again, he spoke up. "What were you saying?" he asked softly, his voice barely above a whisper. He needed to know, needed to hear your words, even if they shattered his heart into a million pieces. You hesitated for a moment, the words caught in your throat as you searched for an excuse, anything to deflect from the truth. "It's nothing," you replied, forcing a smile that didn't quite reach your eyes. "Just... something I've been thinking about lately. But it's not important." A lie.

He studied your expression, a flicker of disappointment crossing his features before he masked it with a small smile of his own. "Alright," he murmured, though he couldn't shake the feeling that there was more to your words than you were letting on. Turning back to Azriel, you couldn't help but notice the way the moonlight danced across his features, casting a soft glow around him that made your heart flutter again.

"You know," he began, breaking the comfortable silence between you, "I never expected to find you here tonight. It's... a pleasant surprise."

You chuckled softly, the sound carrying on the gentle breeze. "Well, it's not every day that we get to celebrate Starfall together," you replied, a hint of warmth in your voice. "I wouldn't miss it for the world." There was hidden meaning in your words that he didn’t fail to miss.

His eyes softened at your words, a silent understanding passing between you. "I'm glad you're here," he murmured, his gaze never leaving yours. "It wouldn't be the same without you."

Wearing a tender smile, Azriel reached out, his fingers lightly brushing against yours. "You look beautiful tonight," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. A soft blush crept onto your cheeks at his compliment, and you couldn't help but return his smile. "Thank you," you replied, your voice filled with sincerity. "You don't look too bad yourself."

He chuckled softly, the sound like music to your ears. "High praise coming from you," he teased, his eyes sparkling with amusement. You laughed, a light and carefree sound that echoed in the night air. "Well, I do have good taste," you quipped, nudging him playfully.

With trembling hands, you reached out to touch him, your fingers grazing lightly against his cheek as you traced the contours of his face. His eyes fluttered closed at your touch, a soft sigh escaping his lips as he leaned into your caress. Every nerve in his body seemed to come alive at your gentle caress, his senses overwhelmed by the intoxicating sensation of your touch. With a shaky breath, he opened his eyes, meeting your gaze with a depth of emotion that words could not express. In that moment, he felt as though he could drown in the ocean of your eyes.

With a tender yet sure touch, Azriel pulled you into his embrace, his arms enveloping you in a cocoon of warmth and safety. The scent of cedar and winter air surrounded you, his presence filling every corner of your senses. Azriel can't help himself, his urge to feel you pressed against him. He had missed you too much, and the way you just looked at him had him questioning why the hell he waited so long to do this. His hazel eyes glint as he lets them roam over your face, examining the gentle curve of your full lips, dipping down to follow the line of revealed skin, ending where your breasts are pressed firmly to his chest. The intensity of his stare sends shivers down your spine, your skin tingling with a delicious combination of desire and longing.

With each passing moment, the space between you seems to shrink, until there is barely a breath of air separating your bodies. You can feel the heat emanating from him, warming you from the inside out. His eyes, darkened with lust, hold you captive, their intensity rendering you speechless. You can't help but shiver under his gaze, your entire being yearning for the touch of his lips against yours.

As he leans in closer, his brows furrowed in concentration, you can't help but tremble under his touch. His tongue darts out to wet his bottom lip, a subconscious gesture. You feel the gentle pressure of his body against yours, his warmth seeping into your skin as he presses you back against the railing. Unable to contain the rush of emotions coursing through you, a soft whimper escapes your lips. "Azriel." His name leaves you sounding more like a soft whine than anything else. He inhales sharply, his chest rising and falling with each ragged breath as he savors the way his name rolls off your tongue. "say it again." he pleads, his voice husky with longing, his grip on you tightening ever so slightly. "Azriel..." You breathe out again. A sinful moan escapes his lips at the sound of his name spoken by you, his head bowing forward as he presses his forehead against yours. Your hands claw at his chest, fisting his shirt.

“Can I kiss you?” Azriel’s voice sounds strained as he asks you. All you can manage is a whimpered “Please.” And that’s all he needs, as if your words just shattered his restraint, he surges forward, capturing your lips with his own. You melt into each other’s touch, lips slanted over another, one of Azriel’s marred hands comes up to cup one of your cheeks, tilting your head back slightly to deepen the kiss. You press into him more, gasping when you feel a muscled thigh lodged between your legs, the friction causing you to shake slightly. Azriel swipes his tongue over your bottom lip then, venturing further as you gasp, tasting you. Both of you, completely tangled into each other, breathe heavily when you part. Only then do you realize that the stars had begun their journey, thousands upon thousands of bright streaks flashing through the sky.

The sparkling light of the falling stars reflected in Azriel’s eyes, making them shine even brighter than they already were. You followed his gaze as you saw his orbs wander to look behind you. The night sky shone with glittering starlight, painting Velaris in a colorful bright hue. In complete and utter awe, you shift slightly, watching the stars make their way to whatever destination. “Breathtaking.” Azriel mumbles huskily and you can’t help but agree. When you turn to face him again, you realize that he was still looking at you. A soft blush makes its way onto your already flushed face.

Azriel was a warrior, the Night Court’s Spymaster and Shadowsinger, he had fought plenty of battles before, always coming out on top and alive. But as he stared at you then, his heart rapidly beating in his chest, he found himself on his knees for the first time, loosing his restraint, loosing his composure. Because when he looked at you then, face bathed in the soft lights of the falling stars, skin flushed and lips swollen, it snapped. And when it did, everything made sense.

His eyes were wide and filled with something you couldn’t quite place. As you feel his lips crashing against yours once more, any words you might have spoken are lost in the fervor of the moment. The intensity of the kiss leaves you breathless, your mind swirling with a heady mixture of desire and adoration.

When you finally break apart, your chests heaving with the effort of controlling your racing hearts, you find yourself lost in the depths of his wide, expressive eyes. There's something in his gaze that speaks volumes, something you can't quite put into words but can feel deep within your soul. "Your face is a work of art," you whisper, the alcohol lending a soft haze to your words. Excitement clouding your head, the compliment spills from your lips. Azriel's features, sharp and defined, seem to glow with an ethereal light in the dimness of the night. His hazel eyes, like pools of molten gold, capture your gaze, drawing you in.

"Yeah?" he hums in response, his hands finding their way to the back of your thighs, pulling you closer to him. The warmth of his touch sends a shiver down your spine, igniting a fire within you that threatens to consume every inch of your being. And when he inhales deeply, the scent of your Arousal hits him with full force and he snarls lowly. "Your legs should frame it then,"

Your breath hitches at his words, eyes widening at what he suggests. Speechless you try to regain your composure. Then, with a coy smile, you lean in closer to him, your lips brushing against his ear as you whisper, "Careful, Azriel. You're playing with fire." The teasing tone in your voice betrays the longing that simmers beneath the surface, aching to be unleashed.

As the flames of desire engulf you both, Azriel's lips part in a husky whisper, his voice dripping with primal need. "I don't mind getting burned," he murmurs, his breath hot against your neck. With a trembling hand, you reach up to cup his cheek, your touch gentle yet filled with an intensity that mirrors the blaze in his eyes. "Then let us burn together," you whisper.

In a raw display of desire, Azriel's demeanor shifts, his jaw clenched with a fierce determination as he gazes at you with narrowed eyes filled with unbridled hunger. Without a word, he lifts you effortlessly into his arms, his hands roaming possessively over your body as he pulls you close. With a soft gasp, you wrap your legs around his hips, feeling the heat of his body against yours as you press closer together. The sensation of his hands wandering to your ass, squeezing firmly, sends a shiver of anticipation coursing through you.

In the blink of an eye, Azriel winnows you away. The world blurs around you, the sensation of movement disorienting yet thrilling. Before you can fully comprehend the transition, you find yourselves standing in the intimate sanctuary of his bedroom. Around you, the air is charged with anticipation, heavy with the promise of what is to come. Azriel's gaze meets yours, smoldering with desire as he sets you down gently on the bed, his hands still lingering on your hips. And as he looks at you then, looking deep into your eyes to search for any hesitation or regret on your part, you speak.

“Claim me.” Your voice is confident and soft. “I’m yours, Mate.”

With a primal growl, Azriel's restraint shatters, consumed by the raw, unbridled desire coursing through his veins. He leans in, capturing your lips in a passionate kiss, a fierce hunger driving his movements. In that moment, there is no holding back, no inhibitions—only the primal instinct to claim you as his own.

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I Can't believe it!! What do you guys think? Let's just say Part 3 will be very steamy. I truly hope you enjoyed reading this.

Tag-list:

@impossibelle @paleidiot @tele86 @namelesssaviour @sstrohma @that-one-little-soybean @mybestfriendmademe @durgenyx @shinyghosteclipse @katherinejess

[powdermelonkeg]

You're big on Zelda, so I'm curious. How would you rewrite TOTK, if given the writer's room?

Fun question! *cracks knuckles* Let's answer it.

I've answered about the disconnect between BotW and TotK before, so I'm going to take some of those ideas and run with them here.

I'm taking the intended route, for the sake of keeping coherence rather than just making up an entirely new Hyrule from scratch. Link and Zelda are the same as they are in BotW.

To start off, I like the Zonai.

I like that they're an entirely new race of people in Hyrule. I love how weird-looking they are. I love that they're not human race #87.

I also love their bastard not-Zonai lovechild thing. If we saw more examples of Zonai, I would love for this funky lil dude to be part of them, kind of like how the Zora have a ton of variation between them.

So why don't we do that? Why don't we give them a kingdom?

And why don't we put some meat on the bones of what was already built?

There are Zonai-esque ruins all over the Depths, mostly in mines for Zonaite.

Their color palette matches. Rauru's braids and Sonia's earrings match brightblooms.

And the three dragons, who have Zonai features (segmented, color-edged hair, long ears, blunt muzzles, scale beard mouths), could have been a catalyst.

A catalyst for what, though?

It starts with the Depths themselves, and the dragons breaking free.

See, in TotK, the three elemental dragons all dive in and out of the Depths chasms. There's no explanation as to why, and the only explanation we have for the chasms forming is that it was like...geysers of Gloom.

However, the dragons in BotW are confirmed to have carved these canyons:

So let's go back in time a little.

The Zonai live in the Depths. They're underground, away from all the chaos that Hyrule has ever had to endure. They worship the bargainer statues as gods, they collect the souls of those above that drip down into the world below.

They have a rich mining industry, and coliseums for their greatest warriors to test their mettle against captured monsters.

They have their Secret Stones, and the one who's allowed to hang onto those is their leader.

That'd be young Prince Rauru.

The elemental dragons, Dinraal, Naydra, and Farosh, are testaments to why no one can be allowed to have the Secret Stones. They were consumed by their power, literally.

One day, they break free, as if summoned by an unknown force. They tunnel through the ground and into the sky, connecting the world below to the one above.

The Hylians cautiously venture below, or the Zonai above. Prince Rauru, keeper of the Secret Stones, and Sonia, High Priestess of Hylia, meet.

They fall in love.

They marry.

Their marriage marks a unity between the Surface and the Depths.

(Maybe throw in a lil Skyward Sword continuity, mention that while Hylia sent the humans to the sky, the Zonai fled underground to avoid Demise, to keep the Secret Stones out of his grasp. You don't even have to name drop him, just say they went down to avoid destruction.)

Suddenly, Hyrule (the center part of the map, based around the Great Plateau, not the whole sub-kingdom conglomerate it exists as in BotW) undergoes a technological boom. Ganondorf, neighboring leader of the Gerudo, is interested. He talks trade with now-king Rauru, but there's the sub-plot of trying to get his secrets, which he steadily grows obsessed with.

Meanwhile, the Gerudo make their own expedition into the Depths.

There. The stage is set.

Now Zelda falls into the past.

She's found by Rauru and Sonia. Adopted as their daughter, more or less.

Also, the two of them have a small child. Nintendo, you CAN'T set them up as "they're her ancestors" and then kill them childless, descendants don't work like that. Zelda's immediately endeared to the kid, who reminds her of Link. Lil half-Zonai girl with a wooden sword who swings it at anything that moves. There are memories, it's cute.

In the past, Zelda witnesses, real time, Ganondorf going mad with power. They get along well at first, he's cordial, polite, a model diplomat. But she finds his troops in places they shouldn't be, confronts him about it and gets brushed off.

She tells Rauru, he's unwilling to throw suspicion onto Ganondorf. They're semi-friends and diplomacy is important! He's got to run this kingdom right. He can't fail, this is the biggest thing he's ever done!

(Sprinkle in a parallel to BotW Zel's fear of failure)

Some of the memories fill in gaps about Rauru's power, also. He's got what Link can do, minus Recall. Ultrahand and Fuse mainly, but Rauru's been experimenting with Ascend, excited because it'll make passage between the Depths and the Surface so much easier, and we see where Zel gets her scientific excitement from. Regardless of how different they look, they ARE family.

Ganondorf and Rauru get into a fight one day. A BAD fight. Maybe because Zelda tipped Rauru off, and despite telling her no, Rauru looked into it anyways. Regardless, they march out in opposite directions, and Zelda overheard it in the hallway. As Ganondorf leaves, he gives her the most SCATHING glare.

He then declares war on Hyrule.

Rauru makes a bid for allies, trying to get enough manpower to fight Ganondorf's impressive military. It's a struggle at first, but Zelda steps in, being the leader she's skilled at being and telling the others how crucial it is that they help. Ganondorf, meanwhile, turns to forbidden arts in his rage against Rauru, gets infected by Gloom/Malice, becomes scarily powerful. First Blood Moon. The Gerudo are kind of unnerved by him.

We see Zelda and Sonia helping with the war. Sonia's got light powers, Zelda's are stronger, together they can destroy entire ARMIES of monsters, saving their warriors on the battlefield. A few instances of Little Princess trying to be involved like the grown-ups are, getting huffy when she's told no.

In the aftermath of each fight, Rauru runs around, sealing away the monsters' latent energy with green spirals. That's where the Shrines come from, though in the past, they're Luminous Stones—it's all faded by present day, the light bled out of them.

Sonia is on the battlefield against Ganondorf one fateful night, Little Princess wanders onto the field, both the girls panic about it, and Sonia tries to run away with her while Zelda affords them cover. THAT'S when Ganondorf strikes her—he's fast like a ninja, rushes past Zelda, strikes Sonia.

She falls. Little Princess tumbles.

Zelda races to Little Princess's side, picks her up to run away with her as Ganondorf gets Sonia's stone, and he transforms into the Demon King. He raises his army. Little Princess screams, and we see an uncontrolled blast of Hylia's power, like an erratic attempt at what Zelda did at the end of BotW.

It fritzes, Zelda hugs her tight and ducks down to shield her, and the power cascades across the battlefield, affecting monsters AND people alike. The war is in shambles. Ganondorf stares at the child and her guardian, and retreats in a hurry.

Cue Rauru running to their side.

He grieves his wife. Little Princess is kept safe by Zelda. The Gerudo shun Ganondorf and join Rauru's side, and everyone involved in the war dedicates everything to one final assault against Ganondorf, one trap to finally END him, to force him into the Depths and fight him on the Zonai's own turf. The Secret Stones are distributed. Rauru knows what he has to do, and at the climax of the final battle, he uses his Secret Stone to amplify his sealing magic, knowing it'll kill him in the process and locking Ganondorf away in the Depths.

Except, it's not that simple.

Gloom bursts out of the newly trapped Ganondorf's chest, flooding the Depths, eliminating everyone in its path. That includes the Sages, the assaulting army, and the VAST majority of the Zonai. Its sole purpose is to gather enough strength over time for Ganondorf to break his shackles, because the Gloom wants OUT.

(Subtly implied that the Gloom is the first iteration of Demise's curse of hatred, maybe.)

And Zelda is alone. Trapped in the past, stuck with Little Princess, her Secret Stone, and the last of Mineru's notes.

Gloom continues to fume out of the Depths, so they're sealed off. The Blood Moon keeps spawning new monsters, so Little Princess and the remainders of the construct caretakers are sent up to the sky, for her protection. Zelda's the one that orchestrates it. Her people once hailed from the sky, and it's always been known as a place of safety for them.

Is this self-referential to the history she's building, or a Skyward Sword reference? Who knows.

They go skyward.

Then the Master Sword appears, and Zelda knows what she has to do. It's compounded, of course, by crushing guilt over the fact that Sonia's death happened on her watch. She tells Little Princess to look out for the world ahead, tells her to be strong, and brave, and everything she wishes her dad had told her. Then ends it with a final message.

"I'm leaving you something very important. Take good care of it."

Then she goes off alone to become a dragon.

Present day.

Link's not guided by Rauru, he's guided by a strange, beautiful woman who looks kind of like Zelda (albeit with Zonai hair, eyes, and long claws), who has a deep regret for the world below and who knows the lonely world above like the back of her hand. She teaches him the basics of his powers as he visits the shrines.

The Great Sky Island is otherwise normal.

You go to Hyrule. The Light Dragon's the one that breaks the cloud barrier, and as she does so, she sheds a single tear. By the time you get to the tear's location, it's spread a mural of the memory it contains around it.

Whenever you Recall a tear, the Light Dragon sheds a new one somewhere else, and it's up to you to follow.

You're chasing Zelda, twice over.

Besides that, Hyrule's Surface is...largely unchanged. I'm still upset that the pirates assaulting Lurelin weren't ACTUAL pirates, so guess what, they are now. Splinter faction of Yiga. Also, River Zora take over Lake Hylia, there's a spat between them and the Sea Zora, and Yona is the princess of the Rivers.

Then you've got the Depths.

That's where you find the ruins of the Zonai civilization, and you start piecing together the world it contains on your own. You aren't told, you're SHOWN.

Rauru's ghost finds and guides you here. He has a moment of "hey, isn't that MY arm?", upgrades your abilities or shows you how to use them more efficiently (ups your build limit, shows you how to un-Fuse, teaches you DEscend, gives you Autobuild, things like that), then DIES-dies. You escort his poe soul to a Bargainer statue.

The biggest change to the Depths, though, is that under the Gerudo Desert, you find PEOPLE.

So remember how the Gerudo launched their own expedition into the Depths in the past? How the Gloom killed almost everyone and the world below was sealed off?

There were a sparse few survivors of the Zonai, and some unfortunate Gerudo researchers that also got trapped. The people down there now are descendants of both. They're not Zonai anymore, though.

They're Lomei. They evolved like how the Rito evolved from the Zora in Wind Waker. Their tribe name comes from the Zonai word for "loneliness."

Regardless, they're initially inhospitable to Surfacers, because Surfacers are how they ended up how they did. If you sneak into their city, you're captured, like a few unfortunate Zonai Survey Team members that have wandered in, only YOU can escape via Ascend. OoT Gerudo parallel.

You can earn the Lomei's trust by doing things for them (maybe beating all three labyrinths as a rite of passage?), and then they let you into their cities. They've got their own brand of tech based off of old Zonai designs. One of the Lomei scientists is working on a mechsuit—that'll be the sage that Mineru passes her stone down to. And it fits doubly, both because the Lomei ARE the descendants of the Zonai and because the Lomei technician and Mineru are both scientists.

The Lomei people give you more pieces to the complicated Zonai-Hylian puzzle, and they're the ones that first tell you the legend of the dragons-from-Secret-Stones. So you can either learn it from them OR get it revealed in Zel's later memories.

Besides that, the present plot is pretty much as normal. Still the same bosses. Still the same sages-help-with-everything, though each sage you rescue gives you another piece of what really happened at the final fight (rather than the same cutscene over and over), telling you about how Rauru sacrificed himself and the effect it had on the rest of the Depths.

I will change where the Ganondorf's Army fight takes place, though. It's ACTUALLY very hidden, like the game was trying to imply it to be when you chase around Kohga. You do still have to do that, but he accidentally directs you to a place that's hidden in the tiniest crevice near Hyrule Castle, one that's very easy to miss and sitting in a veritable sea of Gloom. Once you finish the Kohga quest, a poe hovers outside of the crevice, which leads into an even deeper chasm that leads to the Underdepths.

The poe's your help to get through the maze there, and wherever it goes, Sundelions bloom at the corners. If you go early, before getting everything done, you have to navigate that place yourself, and it's a nightmare.

But you do it. You get to where everything started, and you beat the army, then Ganondorf, then he shoves his fist down his throat and goes dragon.

As he breaks through the ground and curls around Hyrule Castle, he SHATTERS it. The building crumbles to smithereens, crashing into the Depths below.

You beat Demon Dragon, Zelda catches you on her nose, it's over. You're in the spirit realm over sleeping Zelda.

The poe appears over your shoulder, drifts away from you, then materializes into Sonia. She says nothing, just activates Recall, turns Zelda back to normal, then cradles her in her arms. She gives her a kiss on the forehead, looks at you, then says the same line Zelda said to Little Princess ages ago, with the single change of one word.

"I'm leaving you something very important. Take good care of her."

She fades, as does the Spirit World.

You're falling.

Zelda's falling.

You catch her.

She wakes up, sees you, then hugs you and sobs into your shoulder.

The Legend of Zelda: Tears of the Kingdom.

Roll credits.

Bonus for the memory completionists, the True Ending has Zelda meeting the grown Little Princess up at the Great Sky Island, reconciling with her, both of them saying how proud they are of each other. Then Little Princess turns into a poe, and Zelda promises to take her to the Depths so she can be with her parents again. As they walk away, Sonia's poe tails after them.

And THAT is a way longer post than I expected to write. Whew.

[ryrywrites]

Drunken Schoolboy - Anthony Bridgerton

divider creds: @cafekitsune @saradika-graphics

Pair: Viscount Anthony Bridgerton x fem!reader

Description: Attending a ball hosted by Lady Danbury, the newly-engaged Lady Y/N Roman and Viscount Anthony Bridgerton become separated by the ton. When the watchful eye of high society becomes too much for Y/N, she retreats into the library where she's met with her very drunk fiancé.

Warnings: Anthony coming onto the reader drunk, nothing but fluff here 🫶🏻

WC: 2.6k

A/N: Work has been tearing me up and I needed some Bridgerton fluff. This one is little short but I'm working on some longer stuff for you guys. This was just a cute lil idea 🥰 Enjoy!

Update: As I was writing this, Tumblr said fuck you to my hard work and deleted literally everything so...I want to die. Okay, enjoy 😃

anthony bridgerton masterlist × main masterlist

Y/N crept down the silent hallway and made her way into the dusty room, scanning her surroundings to make sure no one had spotted her. The dull hum of chattering society and soft music could still be heard from the ballroom as she walked through to shelves of books. Y/N was practically raised among these books and found that her favorite hiding place in Danbury House was this library. Although she appreciated Lady Danbury's hospitality and the amount of work she put into these seasonal balls, Y/N never found them enjoyable. She was always to leave a ball early if she could get away with it, or simply avoid the event all together. But this was her and the Viscount's first appearance out in society as an engaged couple so attendance was necessary, at least, according to her mother. As soon as they arrived, the couple was torn apart by the droves of squawking ladies and a trio of rakish bachelors, who had dragged her dear fiancé away to God knows where. Y/N was almost immediately bombarded with questions and suspicions from the nosy mamas and jealous debutantes who all were wondering why Viscount Bridgerton would choose her over any of them. They poked and prodded, trying to determine what made her so special that she had won the Mr. Bridgerton's favor.

Truly, she herself still had trouble grasping the engagement. I suppose the only true answer to their intrusive questions was that the pair had fallen in love. Over the course of the season, they had a long feud and competitiveness that kept them constantly on their toes around the other. They could not deny their longing for the other and one night, Anthony confessed his true intentions and begged her to release him from this torment and marry him. Of course, she accepted and confessed her own feelings to the man. What the two had found in each other, they had never been able to find in anyone else. A shared understanding of loss, a similar sense of wit and humor, and a love so vast, it truly did conquer all. But tonight, the prying eyes of society had brought her to exhaustion. Her social battery was drained by the time those mothers had come to the conclusion that nothing scandalous had taken place to force the pair into marriage. Once they had nothing to gossip about, Y/N and Anthony became yesterday's news and she was pushed back to the wall, where she stood and watched the many lovely couples dancing and conversing, wondering where her beloved had been swept away to.

She had finally had her fill of tea cakes and awkward isolation. Now, here she stands, scanning the shelves for any book that may occupy her time. Just as Y/N had pulled a book from the shelf, she heard a loud bang against the wall in the library. She was immediately startled and jumped in place, dropping the book with a thump. She turned around to see what had made such a fuss and there stood her promised, a tall sturdy man with tousled brown locks and a royal blue suit coat. Anthony was leaning up against the wall, disturbed, until he spotted his fianceé, holding her chest for dear life. His face quickly lifted in drunken glee and he trudged over to her, she relaxed once she realized who he was. "My dear, what-" Anthony cut her off by wrapping his arms around her and lifting her off the ground, spinning her in a large circle. "My darling, I have found you at last!" He spoke very openly and outlandishly, not caring about his volume. The startled woman let out a yelp of surprise as he twirled her around. She placed her hands on his shoulders, attempting to ground herself. "Anthony, you must be quiet!" Y/N whispered and hoped nobody had heard his inebriated outburst of affection.

He smiled cheerfully and obediently hushed his tone, placing her on her feet once more. Y/N was taken back by the man's forward and adoring gaze upon her. Anthony was many things. He was stubborn, competitive, and very subtle with his love in public. The most physical contact that had ever shared was a kiss and an intimate embrace, nothing further. Now, Y/N feared their discovery in such a secluded and dark place with his hands so carelessly roaming her torso. "Dearest, please, what has come over you?" She quickly halted his hands and gently removed them from her corseted waist. She examined him suspiciously and realized the man before her was absolutely sloshed. She placed a hand to her mouth, stifling a laugh. "I have been searching far and wide for you! And now you are here! I am so happy to see you." He slurred excitedly, his heart was filled with overwhelming joy at the sight of his beautiful bride-to-be. Y/N snorted and rolled her eyes at his eagerness. She held his hands and guided him slowly to a chair. "Yes, and I am happy you found me." As she slowly seated him in his chair and he laid out lazily and smiled up at her, weary and obviously tired. She knelt before him, lowered herself down to meet his eyeline.

"Anthony, how many drinks have you had this evening?" His head bobbed along with every word she spoke, he watched her lips intently with droopy eyes. His face turned slightly pensive as he thought and then held up five fingers. Y/N eyes widened in disbelief. Those damn hooligans, Anthony's condition was surely their doing. I felt irritation rise within me as Anthony's eyes drooped closed. I lifted myself up and sighed exasperatedly, walking around him and stroking his cheek. "I believe it is time we take our leave, my love." He hummed in reply, loving the feeling of her fingers rubbing his cheekbone. "Please, stay here. I shall return in just a moment." She whispered softly, kissing the top of his head and making her way out of the library, in search of either Colin or Benedict. They had most likely seen their brother in this state before, they would were the only ones who could help her discreetly take Anthony home. Y/N carefully reentered the ballroom, her eyes darting the room for any signs of a Bridgerton. She came face to face with Benedict Bridgerton, just the man she was looking for. "Y/N! How are you this even-" She quickly ignored the pleasantries and carefully pulled him by the arm to the library.

Benedict was very confused, almost concerned by her hurried strides, until they reached the library and he spotted his smashed brother, his legs spread in a splayed position and his head bobbling along to the tune playing in the ballroom. Benedict let out a boisterous chuckle at his incapacitated brother. "Good God. What on Earth happened to him?" He wondered. Y/N shook her head in similar confusion. "I hate to be a bother but I can't exactly...hold him up on my own." He nodded understandingly and moved across the room to where his older brother laid. "Come on, you knob. Let's get you up." Anthony didn't appreciate his brother's insult but lifted himself up with Ben's extended arm. He stumbled for a moment but steadied himself. "I'll alert the valet that we shall be leaving." She turned on her heels and Ben quickly followed after, with Anthony's arm over his shoulder. Anthony was beginning to sober up and groan slightly under his breath. Y/N maneuvered the two men through the crowd of socialites and they finally made their exit. She swiftly notified the valet. Their carriage was pulled around with a couple of whines from the horse and Anthony.

I opened the door for Ben to shove his brother gently into the carriage, he tumbled within the small coach and, at last, found his seat. "Thank you, Ben." Y/N whispered softly, not wanting to draw attention to the scene. He bowed before her with a sly smirk. "He will never live this down." He stated very well pleased, turning around to head back into the ball. As Y/N settled into the carriage, finally able to sit comfortably in her dress, she noticed Anthony beginning to rub his head. "My darling?" She stated curiously. He was suddenly feeling very sober and extremely sick. "Where are we going?" He inquired, his voice strained from the very clear ache in his head. "Home, my love." She placed a warm hand on his knee from across the carriage. He let out a heavy sigh, getting him inside was going to be a difficult feat. As the carriage slowly came to a stop, a footman opened the ornate door and helped the two out of the carriage. Y/N had always appreciated the staff's understanding and compassion towards the Bridgerton family. Anthony could not stand on his own for very long so Y/N placed her arm around the man's waist and threw his arm over her shoulder. She was watching very intently while Ben was carrying Anthony, knowing she would likely have to follow his actions.

He was a hefty man, heavy and large in frame. Every step up the front stairs felt like a mile, even with the footman's help. She was determined to get him inside, even if her face was turning a flushed red from the exercise. Once they reached the door, after what felt like centuries, the footman opened the door for the two of them and took his leave once Y/N dismissed and thanked him for his help. He would certainly be receiving a hefty tip from her in the morning. Anthony was beginning the sober up and hold his weight a bit as the two scuffled to Anthony's bedroom. She had not yet seen his room, it was seen as impropriety to be alone with him in his quarters but she was sure no one would mind, in this particular situation. He laid out on his back, peacefully for a moment and so quietly, she could've sworn he had fallen asleep immediately. Until his body shot up very suddenly, making her jump in surprise. "My word!" This was the third time he had flustered her tonight and she was beginning to become agitated in a very humorous way. "I believe I'm going to be sick." He said very woozily, looking as though he was going to vomit on the floor. Y/N's eyes widened in fear and quickly lifted her dress and made a dash to the kitchen.

She found a bucket and, tripping over herself, ran back to the bedroom, the sound of her heels clicking rapidly against the linoleum floor. She thrusted the bucket into the man's hands and stood back, preparing for impact. He leaned over the bucket for a moment, becoming visibly pale and sweaty. He was still, very still while her body was fully tensed. He shook his head and laid moved the bucket to the floor, placing his elbows on his knees and shaking his head droopily. "My God. What happened? And why?" He moaned annoyed at the feeling that trembled in his stomach and the bile that was beginning to travel to his throat. She cautiously sat beside him on his plush bed and rubbed his back, trying her best to ease his discomfort. "Remind me not to let you leave my side at the next ball." Y/N smiled relieved that he was coherent once again. "No more balls." Anthony groaned. He laid back, whining bitterly. Y/N could not help but chuckle at the man that laid beside her, what a dunce. She absolutely adored him and she could not help but wonder what would make him drink so recklessly. He peaked an eye at the woman, hearing her titter and arching a brow at her. "You laugh at my suffering?" He asked, feigning offense and placing to his heart in shock.

"You are a dramatic jolly man." She continued to smile down at him, attempting to wipe the beads of sweat growing at his brow. He looked up at her with admiration in his eyes. This woman was truly perfect. How could he have been so callous for so long? Better yet, why had she held out through his cruel behavior? Truthfully, Y/N could not find a rational reason why she chose to stick by his side. She considered the idea that she was a fool and lost all rational thought the moment she met Anthony. That is how she justified her stupidity, her inability to avoid the eldest Bridgerton son. "And you..." He leaned up on his elbows, practically man-spreading before her in his navy blue trousers, white-collared button-up dress shirt, and matching navy vest with gold detailing the chest. He wrapped his arms, slowly, around her waist and wiggled around to crawl closer to Y/N until his head nestled comfortably into her skirted lap. "Are a goddess." He mumbled, his words buried deep in her dress. He hugged her waist possessively, inhaling her scent of french lilacs and gooseberries. She looked down at the pretty man and savored this touch, placing a delicate finger to his cheekbone and tracing it to his slightly disheveled hair.

The light crow's feet at the corners of his eyes stretched as he smiled softly, his eyes fluttered close. As she cradled his head in her lap, she wished they weren't separated by her heavy petticoats. She craved closeness and her discomfort in such tight yet puffy clothes was evident with every shift of her hips. Anthony knew tonight had been less than ideal for his future bride, having to coddle and care for him. Anthony allowed his eyes to open wearily and he offered her a half smile which she returned wholeheartedly. Although this was not how she anticipated ending the evening, she was grateful to be away from the nosy eyes and ears of the ton. She watched the way his face contorted to one of guilt and burden. "I am truly sorry, my darling. I know you must think me a scoundrel for my behavior and I do not disagree." His mind was off it's bend and he would not admit his fault so candidly if he was not still slightly boozed. Y/N tilted her head sympathetically. He was not wrong but she did not blame him, not entirely. She did not spoke, allowing him to continue. "What can I do to make this evening up to you?" He requested. She waited a beat, for dramatic effect. There was nothing she wanted more than...

"I know one way you may make amends." She placed a finger to his jaw and smiled longingly. "Marry me, and all shall be forgiven." His eyes filled with emotion, a tender combination of love, gratefulness, and drink. He pushed himself up from her lap, the emptiness making her as uncomfortable as her dress, and leaned forward, placing a firm kiss to her forehead. "That, I shall," He whispered, placing another careful chaste kiss to her cheek. "And more." She gazed upon the man, fearing a tear would escape her tired eye from the emotions and true admiration she shared with Anthony. With such a hasty motion, Anthony did not realize how dizzy and nauseous he was until his stomach began to turn. He clenched his jaw, wired tightly shut, as well as closing his eyes once more to steady himself and tried to push the feeling away but failed with an exasperated sigh. "Dear God, I'm going to be sick." Y/N quickly lifted herself with a push of her palms to the soft quilted mattress and flew to the kitchen to retrieve a cold cloth to place on his head. It would be a long night but he was undoubtedly worth the trouble.

[manheimsmuse]

MASTERMIND ; spencer reid

checkmate, i couldn’t lose

a/n: very potentially a part one, heavily inspired by ‘mastermind’ by taylor swift.

warnings: spencer reid x afab!gideon!reader, competitive spencer, reader is the newest addition to the bau, set in season eleven so spoiler warning

the idea of joining the behavioural analysis unit was daunting, it would be for anyone, but the daughter of the legendary jason gideon? now, those were some big shoes to fill.

you were comfortable enough with the team, hell david rossi was your godfather and you’d babysat jack hotchner more times than you could count. jennifer, or jj as you learned she preferred to be called, was a passive figure in your life but one you appreciated considering she was one of the only maternal figures consistently in your life.

penelope garcia was someone teenage you had a one sided beef with, your father frequently tracking you down through her tracing skills, and derek morgan forced you to take a self defence class with him once your father told him you’d been robbed after a frat party.

there was one person, however, that you knew inside and out despite meeting only a handful of times.

doctor spencer reid.

it was very possible the allure was your fathers disapproval, being close in age meant jason feared you’d ’put the moves on the kid’ as he would say. and it was tempting, you had to admit, not just to irritate your father but because spencer was an enigma. intelligent, clumsy, absolutely gorgeous.

he was your first crush, well, aside from troy bolton and that boy in your second grade class.

so, when you walked into the bullpen on your first official day and saw the aforementioned boy genius playing against himself in a game of chess, you couldn’t ignore it.

spencer made the mistake of thinking he could bowl you over without a second thought, the fact that the man who taught him had also taught you completely slipping his mind as his competitive streak took over.

“you’ve got this, bella.” rossi muttered, he and the rest of the team watching on in disbelief as spencer had finally met his match. even garcia had snuck out of her lair to watch.

the silence is deafening as the two of you go back and forth across the board, each of you huffing in annoyance when outsmarted by the other until finally. .

“check.”

a small grin of satisfaction etches itself onto reids face, in his head he’s won, backed you into a corner, and my god was he smug about it.

you remain calm, eyes trained on the pieces as you try think ten steps ahead, just as you were taught.

and finally, it falls into place like dominoes cascading in a line.

“checkmate.”

it’s your turn to wear a smug grin, arms crossing as rossi whoops, holding his hand out to accept a ten dollar note from derek.

“what - how did you..” spencer trailed off, completely and utterly astounded by how easily you’d beaten him “rematch, right now.”

“easy, reid, your sore loser is showing.” derek taunted, playfully shoving the youngers shoulder.

“your rematch it’s going to have to wait, i’m afraid,” garcia started, a chuckle punctuating the beginning of her sentence “we have a case.”

the team dissolves, all making their way toward the conference room as you hung back to help reid clean up the chess board.

“are you sure you can handle me beating you again?” you jokingly ask, crouching to grab a pawn that had slipped off the desk.

“i went easy on you because you’re new,” spencer muttered, not even convincing himself as he took the pawn from you with a quiet thank you.

you scoff, hands on your hips as you look down at the agent still in his seat “if you say so.”

“next time, we’re playing for something.” spencer speaks matter of factly, rising to his feet and tucking his chair in under his desk. you have to tilt your head back to maintain eye contact.

“oh yeah? what’s that?”

“reid, gideon.” hotch’s firm voice bounces from the conference room, moving both of you from spencers desk and leaving you wondering what you were putting on the line.

[hopelesslygaysstuff]

HI i’m the anon who sent the enchanted strap+cockwarmkng and overstimulating cunnilingus asks !! and also the one who sent the pussy slapping

right before bed i was having thoughts. about mean mommy wanda. teasing reader all day while they’re out on a date in public or smth, idk. walking around with an app-controlled vibrator that’s inside reader and wanda relentlessly teases her baby with it while being so condescendingly doting. and in turn reader gets too sensitive and starts to stumble with a tremble in her step

“aww, is my baby too dumb to do anything by herself ? it’s okay, mommy will take care of you princess.” <333

omg hi anon you gave such good ideas!! do you want a lil emoji so i know it's you?

---

Omg yes you've been so good for her and Wanda wants to test the limits of your obedience so she gets you all dressed up and pampers you before a lunch date and an afternoon of shopping. Right before you're about to leave, she has you bend over the couch for her, and you obey without question, just like the good girl you are.

You would ask why she slipped a small vibrator inside you, but the pleased look in her eye when you don't so much as squirm as she turns it on stops you. You really want this date to be perfect, so you don't question it. After all, mommy knows what's best for you, and she does all the thinking.

You make it through lunch with no issue, although Wanda catches you squirming every so often in your seat. You can't help it, she's constantly turning the vibrations higher, and with the edging session you'd had last night only makes you more desperate.

Still, you're a good girl, so you don't complain or beg. Wanda couldn't be prouder, especially when she sees the flush creeping onto your cheeks, and the way your eyes glaze over slightly once you stand up.

It's not until a while later when she turns the vibrations almost as high as they can go that you break your composure.

"Mommy, please." Your whined words are whispered in her ear, and Wanda purposely ignores you as she selects another dress from the rack. She turns toward you, holding the dress up against your body as you plead at her with those big eyes.

"We're not done shopping yet, sweetheart. If you want something, you have to use your words." She says, an air of finality in her voice, and you try to think about ways to ask her for her fingers, mouth, or strap as she guides you towards the dressing rooms.

Then, it happens. She turns the vibrations up even higher, and you stumble slightly as your muscles tremble from the pleasure coursing through you. You turn to look at her, but can only look at her with slightly parted lips as she pushes you into a dressing room.

"What, are you too dumb from mommy's toy to form a sentence?" She asks, and you just nod, hanging your head. She hangs the dress on a hook, before one hand on your hip presses you against the wall while the other grips your jaw and forces you to look at her.

"You've been such a good girl for me, honey. If you can make it home without coming, I'll fuck you nice and hard with my strap, sound good? Hold it, and I'll let you cum as many times as you want later."

---

GOD PLEASE WHEN IS IT MY TURN PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE

[lunarfleur]

My I Love You ~ Earth 42! Miles Morales

Tagging: @juneberrie @sluggmuffin @gloomyluvr @hiyaitssans

Warnings: None except for slight cursing!

A/N:I got this wonderful idea from @/gloomyluvr. I just love this sm

This is x gender neutral reader!

Miles was so warm.

That’s the only thing you could think about. He generated heat like the sun, his skin a firey blanket you knew he would only let you enjoy. It was soothing you, but you didn’t even know you needed soothing.

Miles was a different kind of gentle with you, a sweet kind of soft you hadn’t even known possible. You’d seen him be kind to his mom-who he loved so dearly-but even with her you would find his typical teenage pride held off his affection. He didn’t seem as ashamed with you.

You sat in his room quietly, his arm keeping you tucked closely against his body. Even through his clothes, his warmth spread over your skin like a disease. His cheek sat gently on the top of your head, his free hand sitting behind his own. His door was cracked open, leaving a single sliver of light sitting against his otherwise dark room, at the request of his mother.

Footloose played in front of you, his laptop sitting on his thighs, covered in his comfiest black sweatpants. His fingers played with the hem of your t-shirt sleeve. The fabric pushed and pulled against your skin.

Looking at him, you hummed. He was pretty. Very pretty. The light that came from the hallway made his rich skin shine. The specks of green in his eyes glowed. His nose sat so nicely against his face. His jaw, even when slacked or relaxed, was tight and firm.

Noticing your eyes, Miles glanced at you. A small smirk grew on his lips.

“Somethin’ wrong?” He asked. You shook your head. His fingers danced across the skin of your arm softly.

But even when you forced your attention back to the movie in front of you, Miles’s eyes didn’t leave you. It was a solid 2 minutes before he realized he was even doing it.

He tapped you gently on the shoulder, sitting up straight. You expected him to pause the movie, to get up to use the restroom. But he instead slid his hands up from your neck to the sides of your face.

“Tell me to stop?” He whispered. But it wasn’t a demand, nor was it a threat. It was suggestion, an invitation.

You shook your head, and Miles leaned in slowly. His lips only ghosted yours until you moved into his touch. You felt him tense, his shoulders straightening, then his whole body relaxed altogether.

Once you pulled away, eyes opening, he sat in front of you. His eyes remained closed. His lips pressed tightly into a firm line. They opened slowly.

“Everything okay?” You asked. He nodded.

“Yeah, yeah I just,” Miles hesitated. “I just really…love you.”

Fuck. That was new.

You had said it a few times before, as a goodbye when hanging up the phone or parting for the night. He’d leave you with a kiss on the corner of your mouth, but always resorted to avoiding the phrase altogether. It was out of fear on his part.

A part of Miles told him that those three words were a jinx, that if you said them it automatically meant things weren’t going to last; that something would go wrong. Every relationship his uncle ever had ended quickly and his father had died. His mother was left heartbroken. That was proof enough, right?

‘Our family doesn’t run from things, mijo,’ his mother had always said.

So he sat before you, watching the way your eyebrows raised. He could have sworn your eyes were glowing.

You leaned forward, fingers intertwining with his. You leaned back against the pillows, pulling him back with you.

“I love you, too.”

He released the breath he didn’t even know he was holding and leaned back. His arm snaked back around your shoulder, this time your hand grabbed onto his. His weight pressed against you, heavier this time. His eyes stared at the side of your face.

Looking over at him, you were quick to give him a reassuring smile. You knew it was hard for him, but God did it make you feel good.

He smiled back at you, a sight you knew he’d only let you enjoy, before firmly pressing a kiss to the corner of your mouth.

[paradlselost]

CRIMSON.

JOHN SEED X FEMALE DEPUTY

Sort of a dump, I was really debating on just publishing this as a WIP but I was halfway through the smut and decided to just finish it. Not my best, but I tried to go for a more canon accurate John, which means he’s a major freak in this sorry :/

I mentioned it in the fic but didn’t go too deep, I kinda love toying with the idea of a more selfish deputy - humanizing them. If I were to ever write a longer fic with more of an oc-ized version of the deputy would anyone read? Let me know.

I probably won’t post about John Seed or FC5 for a little while after this. I have ideas for a Black Noir (my bbg) fic and then a Father Paul Hill one from Midnight Mass cause I love religious trauma as y’all can tell. I do also like indoctrinated!deputy so maybe maybe eventually I write about that.

2.7k words

content warnings: mentions of cutting into flesh. smut — dubcon, choking, blood play (John being a freak sorry), dryhumping, oral (m receiving), fingering, debauchery in a house of God.

She should’ve known from the start, when the crackle of her radio sounded, interjecting her music with his voice; that this request was nothing but trouble. But rage had blinded her, wrath seeped into every pore in her body, selfishness.

It was never the Deputy’s plan to become the symbol for the resistance, even after the blades of the helicopter stopped, and smoke and fire billowed out from the engine. Even after Dutch saved her and enlisted her help, and despite the stories from countless other resistance members, she only really had one prerogative; save her friends. 

Hudson, Pratt, Whitehorse. Trapped in the claws of the cult, it was her duty to get them back, and despite the help she had been giving to the resistance, those were the only three people she cared about.

He knew this, stalking her like a cat preparing to pounce, he watched every facet of her life from the moment she ventured into Holland Valley that he could. A selfish little thing, ripe for his obsession.

John Seed was a proud man, bold and brave as he had so eloquently begged Jacob to put in his song. His pedestal as a Herald inflated his ego, the knowledge that without him Eden’s Gate wouldn’t have prospered nearly as much fueled his narcissism, which is why he surrounded himself with only the peggies who would do anything for him.

He isn’t sure whether new members are supposed to pledge their lives to him and the cult, but it sounds so sweet when the floor pools with the blood of their atonement and he coaxes those little words from his new followers' lips. His tongue is coated in silver, he loves this new power, and she threatens to take that from him.

He knew she wouldn’t be as proactive if he crooned to her that he had a resistance member or two, and she would swing in guns blazing if he claimed to have Hudson right beside him. So, instead he played on her curiosity, that little nudge in the back of her mind that forced her to seek him out whenever he called. Like a moth to a flame.

“Fuck you, Seed!” Voice so filled with venom it might’ve burned a hole in the floor, he tilted his head at her profanity, a sadistic grin playing on his face.

Hope County was filled with little white churches, chapels with steeples that attempted to reach to the heavens above. She assumed they were much more lively before, now most were barren except on Sundays, when the peggies who could not fit onto Joseph’s compound would listen to him under random roofs of God.

This. He chose to be under the white ceiling specifically, to call her into the thing she had been fighting against. To hear her screams echo against the chipped painting that decorated the walls, for her blood to be stained on the old wooden floorboards.

Curiosity killed the cat. She was stupid enough to venture into his trap, falling to the ground when hit hard enough over the head, and now she was stupid enough to attempt to fight off the peggies that held either arm.

“Such profanity. You’re in a house of God, Deputy, mind your tongue.” He scolded her as if she was a misbehaving child, as if everything she had ever done could be chalked up to that. A spoiled rotten brat.

His fingers danced over the tools he had brought with him, his trusty tattoo gun being at the top, but an assortment of knives he also deemed fit for this occasion. Oh, the blood she would spill for him, he became giddy at the thought.

“Get off of me-! Woah woah woah- hey stop!” Yelping, she still attempted to fight off the peggies that held her arms, she shied away when he advanced toward her, tattoo gun in his hands. He had tried this before, she knew what he was doing.

“No one here to help you now, Wrath. Don’t try and fight, your atonement will hurt much less if you cooperate.” He was too calm for this situation, a practiced art he had been through hundreds of times. It was a skill, making people spill their most intimate secrets, a skill he had perfected.

The Deputy was a fighter, through and through, though John could understand Jacobs words. She was weak without her companions, without pastor Jerome stealing her from her atonement, or Nick Rye strafing his armed convoy, she was nothing now - and it was almost endearing to him.

With her hands bound, she resorted to spitting that same venom that she held in her words, marking his perfect face with her saliva. He grimaced, wiping it off his cheek before it trailed down to his beard, pretty blue eyes flashing with that same bloodlust that dictated his every waking moment.

It was shocking to even the peggies that held her when he grabbed her by her throat, pinning her to the ground and straddling her hips. His hands shook with anger - the same wrath that he deemed consumed her now making an appearance in himself. Two sides of the same coin, two heads of a snake.

Her head ached now, body feeling as though it was echoing. A second blow to the back of her head that surely would’ve knocked her out if the pain of his tattoo gun wasn’t keeping her grounded. She didn’t know how fast he had ripped her shirt, or how long it would take for him to carve her skin, but she was reduced to pained whines and pleas for him to stop.

And he relished in the noises she made. The blood that covered his hands and trickled down her chest wasn’t an unusual sight for the herald - but her being the one under him made it all the more exciting. His Deputy, his wrath, his perfect rival. The peggies that stood above him now didn’t matter, and what are they to him anyways? Expendable followers he could use, the Deputy was everything.

“Yes yes, c’mon, keep pleading…” How could he help it? Her eyes half lidded as she looked up at him, hands no longer bound by the peggies now loosely grabbing the wrist that held the tattoo gun in an attempt to stop him. She looked so pathetic under him, so why shouldn’t he grind himself against her when his pants were so uncomfortably tight?

Her words didn’t quite reach his ears, not as he waved his followers out - who hurriedly scrambled in embarrassment. The old church was silent, save for her soft sobs and his intense breathing. His hand still placed over her neck made her choke on her words, which only fueled his desire. He could crush her windpipe, her life rested in his hands, and maybe he would’ve if the nagging reminder that she was the only way he was getting into New Eden wasn’t playing in the back of his head.

His ticket, but it didn’t mean he couldn’t have some fun with her.

He removed his hand from her neck as he finished carving into her pretty skin. WRATH, her own personal scarlet letters. He hummed, looking down at her with lustful eyes, fluttering between hers and the blood that pooled on her chest and trickled down her body to the wooden floor below.

She hated the feeling that bubbled in her chest as the pain subsided, now only a dull ache danced with the look he gave her, how he rubbed the tent made in his pants against her. No doubt, a mark had been left on her neck - his handprint, a reminder. The world felt silent at this moment, when she should've pushed him off.

Selfishness. Prioritizing that small ache he gave her over what she should be doing. Finding anything to act as a weapon against him.

But she didn’t, not as his head lowered and she was greeted with his perfectly slicked back hair, shaking hands reaching to play with a strand. A soft grumble came from his throat, tongue lapping at the blood that trickled down the valley of her chest, tasting what he had drawn out of her.

“What are you doing-?” Her voice was soft, he barely heard it over the ringing in his ears. Too long had he been subjected to resorting to his hand when he thought about her, or messing up his silk pillowcases with his pretty ropes when she teased him over the radio. He had her under him, he wasn’t going to let her go now.

“Shh.” His voice was more scolding then he meant it to be, his tongue traveling from the blood he lapped at down to her budding nipple. He wasn’t gentle, and why should he be? After everything she had messed up for him, he felt it justified to bite down on her pretty flesh, pulling at the bud as much as he wanted.

He relished in the pretty, pained moans that fell from her lips, how her back arched into it. Two sides of the same coin, both reveling in whatever pain was brought to them.

The Deputy’s head tilted back, allowing him a chance to latch onto her neck as a vampire would, smearing the blood on his lips all over her pretty skin. He bit, marking her with his teeth over the forming bruises from his handprint. His hands, decorated in the crimson from his hold on the tattoo gun traveled down her body, painting her in her own red.

He slipped his hand below the rough fabric of her jeans, being met with a contrast, soft and delicate and slightly damp. A soft grumble left his lips at the feeling; which were still pressed against her pretty neck. He felt the way her breath hitched as he ran digits over her most delicate areas. Being so close to her neck, he felt how her muscles tightened and how her breath hitched in her throat.

Lifting her hips to meet his tattooed fingers, a small admission of need. She bit her bottom lip to suppress the noises that tempted to fall from her lips - not wanting to give him the satisfaction. They were still enemies, still rivals, at least to her. 

John on the other hand seemed to be on cloud nine, relishing in how she moved against his hand, grinding herself through the fabric of her underwear. He bit down once more, slipping her out of her jeans and grabbing her hips, sitting up and pressing his pelvis against hers.

“John- John cmon…” Head thrown back, panting as she grabbed at the blue silk of his top. He tilted his head down at her, a sadistic smirk playing on his features.

He always took what he wanted, no matter who it was, and the Deputy was no exception to this. To him, it was God's Grace that placed them both here, that gave him the opportunity to rut his hips against hers.

The bulge in his covered jeans met her underwear, fucking himself against her covered cunt. He leaned down overtop of her, panting against her ear. Hot breath on her neck, the sounds of his soft moans mixing with his heavy breaths, and of course his restricted cock grazing just over her clit every couple of thrusts, it was enough to make any girl's eyes roll back.

He stopped, only for a moment, but long enough for her to let out a needy whine, lifting her head to see what he was doing. Tattooed fingers worked the EG belt off, letting his pants pool at his ankles. He wasted no time once they were off, underwear meeting underwear as the outline of his dick was much more pronounced.

“Fuck fuck, put your head back. Fucking-… good girl.” He groaned out, one hand leaving her hips and grabbing at her pretty hair, pulling her head back against the cold wooden floor of the church. She ached, head pounding and echoing from the injuries earlier - but the feeling of him fucking himself against her needy cunt kept her grounded.

In this moment, she needed him, needed this feeling to not pass out.

He tilted his own head back, sweat casting a slick sheen over his skin. A hand dipped against the drying blood on her chest, gathering what he could over his fingertips before bringing them to his lips, sucking on the bloodied digits. He groaned around his fingers, muffling the moans that threatened to fall.

The head of his cock strained against the blue fabric of his boxers, hips thrusting sloppily against her as his hand tightened on her hips, leaving pretty marks in his wake. One thrust, another thrust, and finally another before white pooled at the head, spurting out of the tiny holes in his underwear.

Panting, he finally moved his fingers out of his mouth, cleaned off the blood and tilted his head down at her almost mockingly; he got to finish, the cum that leaked from his underwear dripping down onto hers, and she didn’t get to. He relished in that, that power he had over her.

“H-hey! Not fair!”

“Oh, Deputy. Come here, maybe I’ll let you get off.”

He grinned as he stood up, fixing himself before moving back onto one of the pews, watching her scramble over to him. He had her eating out of the palm of his hand as she kneeled in front of him. Her head pounded harder, eyes a little woozy.

“Poor baby, rest your head, sweetheart.” He teased, a sadistic grin on his face as she nodded and rested against his thigh, looking up at him with those pretty eyes of hers. He couldn’t help himself, not if she looked so pretty right there in his grasp. 

He tangled his fingers in her hair, watching her confused expression as he moved the blue fabric off of his legs, dick springing up as it was freed from the confinement of his underwear. Guiding her head over it, watching her part her pretty lips to suck on his leaking tip.

Milking his cock, swallowing the spurts of salty seed that spilled onto her tongue. She drained him for all he’s worth, looking up at him as he ran his fingers through her hair. He was soft and gentle in this moment, noises falling from his lips that told her how good she was doing. She shouldn’t be doing this, shouldn’t be sucking off John Seed of all people.

He grinned as he watched her, once he was satisfied with the way she suckled on him, he grabbed her chin and pulled her off of him. Guiding her up to her feet, he let her loom over him. She wasn’t intimidating like this, he didn’t know if it was because he had just fucked her over their clothes or because she was relying on him for an orgasm, but she seemed almost adorable.

His lips found her neck once more as she leaned against him, nuzzling her head into his shoulder. He forced her to stand, to spread her legs to allow his fingers to feel the now wet fabric of her panties. He hummed in satisfaction, moving them aside and tracing a finger over her slick folds.

A soft gasp left her lips, grabbing onto his shoulder and attempting to move back to look him in the eye. He grumbled, forcing her in that same position as he bit down on her neck, pushing a finger inside of her at the same time. He loved the moans that fell from her lips as he pumped a digit deeper inside of her.

Another finger stretched her out, deep enough to hit those nerves that made her legs tremble. She whined, shaking against him and propping herself up as he continued to pump in and out of her. He pulled away from her neck for only a moment, watching the way she buried her face against him and laughing softly.

He added one more finger before her legs fully began to tremble, grabbing onto his shoulder. Pumping more, fully reaching those nerves, which caused her to spasm around him, her orgasm flooding around his fingers. She rocked against him once or twice, chasing her high.

“Look at you, Deputy, needing me. Did I make you feel good? Use your words.”

[tragedybunny]

Fangs and Fairytales - Chapter 4

༺Summary༻

The Netherbrain has fallen and Baldur's Gate has been saved. Excited about their new life together, Astarion and Serafina, a warlock who’s past remains hidden, journey to find a way for him to walk in the sun again. But there is no easy path to happiness and even Sera's own patron blocks their way. Together, they can face it all and find their own happily ever after.

Chapter 3: Astarion has an amorous plan to fix Sera's melancholy, it gets a little delayed by an encounter with a peculiar bard.

༺Pairing༻ Astarion x Serafina (Female Tav/OC)

༺Warnings༻ Light bondage, anal play, vaginal sex

༺Word Count༻ 4114

༺A/N༻

Hello Lovelies! This is the smutty chapter. Takes a bit to get there, but I promise the second half is steamy. Many and eternal thanks to @icybluepenguin for betaing and always encouraging me! Also, if you recognize a certain bard and his ballad in this chapter - he's on loan from my dear friend @snowfolly If you don't recognize him, please check out Endlessly, one of my fave fics.

Read on AO3 All chapters here on Tumblr

The camp was in high spirits tonight and buzzing with activity. They'd turned the courtyard and upper floor into some sort of communal festival, all because some ostensibly famous bard had come to play there in an act of “charity” that Astarion found gratingly self-aggrandizing. 

The cheery mood and sense of community had even led the denizens to give the camp a proper name, erasing its last ties to Shar.

“Selûne’s Embrace.” He couldn't think of it without disdain. He wanted to be done with gods, and couldn't fathom why everyone else still would cling to them, Dame Aylin excepted.

The bard’s distraction served his purpose though, so he couldn't complain too much. The event kept Sera distracted while he made preparations for a very special night. He'd left a note before trancing telling her to go enjoy herself and he'd be along later, there were some things he wanted to do.

He shut the door to their private cave hideaway with a satisfied smile. Everything was perfectly set, including the items he’d snuck off to the night market in the Wide to procure. Now to fetch his beloved. 

Sera had seemed back in high spirits the last couple of days. They'd started making preparations to travel and Astarion had to admit, he felt more hopeful as well. He still wasn't happy about losing the sun, but seeing Sera smile after that terrible night made even the light of day seem less important. They'd leave in a couple more days after dinner with Duke Ravengard.

The night crowds were thicker tonight, swarming to the surface, bringing along a tide of food and drink for the revelry. Astarion weaved through them with dexterity, avoiding any brushes against his skin that would reveal it as too cold, and any lingering looks that would expose anyone to his too red eyes. 

He glanced down at his fingertips– his nails had become much more claw-like without the tadpole and, though not as animalistic as they once had been, they still required much more attention. Thankfully, the glowing eyes and maw full of jagged teeth had not also returned, those would be much harder to hide. He had a theory that being well-fed had something to do with it. An idea he could possibly discuss with Dal at some point, but for now he’d simply be thankful.

Thus far, they’d managed to keep his nature to whispered rumor, and no one really wanted to force the issue and confirm they were sharing quarters with a vampire. Especially since this particular vampire was the partner of the hero of Baldur’s Gate. It would seem Sera was still his great protector.

And that thought didn't have the sting it used to. They were rather good at protecting each other. 

Astarion’s thoughts were interrupted as he exited the stairs onto the ground floor and the notes of a song reached his ears. His jaw tightened and his teeth ground together. “That fucking song…” The Golden Lyre. 

“Dark haired maiden, play it true,” a rather pleasant voice crooned from outside.

Despite the pleasantness of the voice, the lyrics were still like listening to Lae’zel sharpen her weapon for hours on end. Astarion charged outside, determined to find Sera as quickly as possible. 

“The golden lyre, I beg of you, hold my heartstrings, in your hands.” 

It wasn’t a bad song, it simply was the song; every bard knew it and would play it in every godforsaken shithole in the city. The sort of place he used to haunt. He’d heard it so often, he would find himself singing it involuntarily and recoil, cursing himself. 

“Dark haired maiden, my love, my muse.”

Down the stairs, into the courtyard, Astarion spotted the ridiculous creature, furiously plucking away at a violin, dancing about like an ungainly bird, a mane of gray hair flowing wildly around him. And of course, at the end of a table nearest this display, sat Sera, sipping from a wine glass, with a smile on her face. A smile that was a little too fond for his liking, 

“Oh my love, my muse…”

Astarion shouldered his way over to Serafina, coming up behind her to rest his hands on her shoulders in what was definitely not a possessive manner, fingers on the light blue fabric of her dress. “Hello darling.” 

If her smile for the bard seemed fond, for him it was radiant adoration. “There you are. Done with your business for the evening?”

Astarion suppressed a smile, thinking of what awaited her in their cave sanctuary. “Indeed. In fact, part of it was a surprise for you. Shall we away?” he purred at her. 

“You’re such a tease. I’m dying of curiosity now.” 

He gave Sera his hand and helped her from her seat, ready to whisk her away from the scene and the hells-damned song when the music abruptly ended. The crowd started to applause raucously and Astarion attempted to make their exit before another song that would remind him of his lowest days started. Who knew what else was in the bard’s repertoire; The Wilting Rose, Summer’s Sweetest Wine? They all made him shudder. 

He’d gotten maybe two steps when the bard’s melodious voice called out behind him. “Corellon fucking wept… Serafina?”

At his side, Sera froze, eyes going wide with a look of terror he hadn’t seen since Cazador had bound him into the ritual. Astarion felt himself tense as well; from what he understood of the warlock pact, no one in Baldur’s Gate should recognize Sera. They gave one another a look and Astarion released her hand to wrap his fingers around the dagger always at his side. 

“It is you! Don’t you recognize me, it’s Tali?” The tiny elf – moon, if Astarion was any judge – flailed his arms about, jeweled rings catching the fire light and a fine scarlet coat swaying with the effort. 

“H-how? You shouldn’t be able to…” Sera stared at him in wonder. 

“Exactly.” Astarion gripped his dagger tighter. Had her family somehow found her? Was this their agent? 

Through the vaguest of conversations and some deduction on his part, he'd been able to put together that Sera had accepted a warlock pact with Titania, Fey Queen of the Summer Court to escape an awful family. Said family were almost certainly Patriars here in Baldur’s Gate. Sera had tried to disguise that noble bearing she’d been taught since birth, but he'd seen his share of nobles and rabble. There was no way she was anything but the former. And that was all he was allowed to know, lest the magic that hid her shatter. 

Tali’s eyes went wide as he caught sight of Astarion’s hand at his weapon. “Hells, call off your attack vampire!” 

The last word was so loud that the crowd started to look their way. Though there had been talk, they had worked hard to keep Astarion’s nature as secret as possible. That effort looked to be going up in flames. All because of… whoever the hell this Tali was. 

“Why you–” Astarion began to draw the dagger from its sheath, causing Tali to  back away. 

The sound of Sera’s laughter caused them both to freeze. 

“The two of you are ridiculous, you know that.” Sera turned and gave Astarion a quick hug and peck on the cheek. “He’s an old friend.” 

“One that is now extremely worried about you, I might add!” The bard fell into a sulk. 

“Could you give us a minute?” Sera asked, barely waiting for Astarion’s nod before dragging Tali off by his hand. 

Astarion sighed and tried to bury the frustration of the delay to his romantic plans. Slinking off, he disappeared into the shadows, the attention of the crowd having diminished without their entertainment present. 

Crossing his arms, he leaned against the wall, definitely not annoyed with the delay. Agonizing minutes passed as he waited, his fingers tapping against his arm and a fang worrying his bottom lip. Finally, Sera returned without the unwanted company in tow. 

He was already preening for the crowd, readying for another performance. Astarion doubted he could know what had passed between them but at least she didn’t look troubled by it. He held out his arm until she hooked hers through it, giving him a reassuring look, and they started back inside.

“He’s a friend, a friend that seems to have some immunity to Titania’s glamour. It’s fine though,” she answered the question he hadn’t asked.

“Oh so this random bard–”

“Taliesin. Honestly I’m surprised you don’t recognize him, he’s quite famous. He wrote the Golden Lyre.” 

Astarion pretended that did not make his blood boil further. Of course the foppish creature wrote that damned song. “Whatever. He’s allowed around Her Majesty’s spell, but I, the love of your life, am not.” 

Sere halted their progress, turning to shoot him a look. “Astarion, you know that’s not how it works. She can’t just make exceptions.” 

“I know she despises me. And she clearly can make exceptions.” 

Sera sighed and started walking again. “You’re being impossible.” 

Astarion followed, now being pulled along by Sera, despite being a head shorter than him, and slightly built. “Don’t act like it’s not true,” he groused. 

“So you're telling me that all a Fey Queen wanted from you for all this power was a child. How very… cliché.” Astarion was setting up a simple trip wire around their camp. They’d just dealt with a pack of gnolls and didn’t need any more surprises for the night. 

“It's not that simple,” Sera answered from where she stood watch behind him, scanning the horizon for any more danger. “She wants a lineage to serve her, my family line.” 

“And you agreed to that? Was life at home really that bad?” Nothing to compare to his, he was sure. 

The night sky over the Risen Road was turning the brilliant colors of twilight as the first stars appeared.  Astarion had agreed to help with security measures and immediately asked Sera to be his look-out. A chance to spend a little more time with her and “strengthen” their bond. They were on their way to the Githyanki crèche, and perhaps a way to be rid of these worms. He needed to ensure his hold on their warlock leader was as tight as possible. Without the tadpole he might well be entirely dependent on her. 

Oddly, the last couple of nights they hadn’t done much more than chat pleasantly by the fire and share a few kisses. Not for lack of trying on his part. Leading to his desperately attempting to ignore the creeping dread that his protector was losing interest in him, and his mouth was running without much thought. 

Audibly, she inhaled. “If only I could tell you.” 

Astarion felt an awful weight in his stomach, the feeling of knowing he'd screwed up. Only it was disturbingly not like when he'd misstepped in front of Cazador. That was fear of reprisal, of one of his master's many punishments. 

This was… he didn't know exactly. He just didn't like being the cause of any distress to her. “I– no, I should trust you on it. Although I have to say, she'll probably be disappointed if you keep carrying on with a vampire,” he finished with an awkward laugh and was glad she couldn’t see him cringing at himself. 

At least the trip wire was done. No explosions, only noise if something tried to cross into their camp. He stood up, shaking off the clumsy exchange. “There, no gnolls in camp this night.” 

“My hero,” Sera gave him a playful smile and headed back toward the cluster of tents. 

The smile soothed his nerves and he made to follow her when a voice whispered in his ear. 

“Watch how you go, Spawn, I won’t tolerate disappointment in my bargains.” 

That had been the only time he’d heard the voice of Titania, but the threat had remained with him, her distaste for him extremely clear. 

“It doesn't matter. And stop being jealous,” she scolded, and Astarion almost groaned in frustration. 

This night was rapidly spiraling out of his control. 

Letting go of her arm, he pulled her closer to him by her waist. Leaning down to purr into her ear,  “Of course my love, let's not spoil the evening. Not when I have such delicious plans for it.”

He was rewarded with a little shiver and smirked to himself. Oh, how he’d come to know her and what made her body respond. And the love they shared made using his considerable experience something he no longer reviled. For the most part– sometimes the skeletons of the past decided to venture outside the shadowy corner of his mind where he kept them. 

The crowd and the noise faded as he led Sera back toward their quarters. The steady increase of her pulse echoed in his ears, and the scent of her arousal filled the air, more alluring than any perfume. Tonight was safely on its way back to being a success. 

When they reached their room, Astarion swiftly shut the door behind him and locked it. No well-meaning visitors to interrupt them tonight. 

Sera turned to face him, eyes heavy-lidded and pupils wide with desire. “What did you want to show me?” 

“It’s in the cave. But first, take off your clothes.” The words were firm, an order, and he watched her swallow hard. 

For his part, Astarion could give or take control with equal pleasure, but Sera, with the rare exception, desired to relinquish it to another. Which made taking it all the more pleasurable for him. 

“I–” Sera started. 

“Shh, just be a good girl and do as you're told.” 

Her skin flushed a deep pink but she wordlessly moved to obey, already sliding into that space in her mind where thought gave way to feeling and reason to desire; the world ceasing to exist outside the two of them. 

When she was freed from her dress, Astarion– still clothed himself– took her hand, careful to not touch any other part of her, and lead her toward the door to their private refuge. “Go on,” he prompted, letting her enter first. 

He didn’t need to see her expression, the ragged, gasping breath she took told him everything he needed to know. The old Sharran rug had been discarded, and a newer plush one was laid down in its place. Currently, a bedroll had been laid over the top of it for extra comfort. And at each corner of the bedroll, attached to a stake driven into the ground, a leather restraint. Nearby was a small box, open to display an assortment of other toys should the night call for them. 

Astarion wrapped his hands possessively around Sera’s waist and leaned to down to speak in a low, throaty voice. “You see, my love, I think I finally understand your problem from the other night. You simply have too many thoughts inside that pretty little head of yours. So I’m going to fuck every last one of them out of it.” 

Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out the blindfold that had been waiting there and slipped it over her eyes. As he did, each breath came more rapidly despite her stillness, like a rabbit frozen in the path of a predator. “And you are going to lay there, and not say a word while I do it. Just make all those lovely little sounds of yours for me.” 

Guiding her toward the bedroll, he laid her down on it, the soft light of the moon from the opening above them bathing her in an ethereal glow. Even without her sight, she obeyed him with perfect trust, following his commands without falter. She gave over each of her limbs to be secured into the restraints until her body was spread gloriously open for him. 

Leaving her to ponder what was next, Astarion wordlessly moved away to strip himself; spending longer than necessary as he watched her chest heave with nervous breath and the minute movements she made out of anxious anticipation. He could feel himself already hardening without even touching her yet. 

Kneeling next to her, he began to skim his nails over her skin, the faintest of marks appearing in their wake. “Now, what am I to do with you, my poor overthinking, anxious love.” His touch idly circled her breasts, avoiding her stiffened, rosy nipples 

“Ast–” she gasped as his fingers closed around one of those nipples and pinched.

“Ah, I said no words, only noises. Behave or we'll have to find a way to keep you from talking.” 

Sera didn't say anything more, only panted and whined as he rolled the nipple between his fingers. 

It was actually the perfect place to start. Shifting so that he kneeled between her thighs, he rubbed the head of his cock over her slick folds and felt her try to buck into him. He gave a soft chuckle at her efforts. 

“You're not getting it quite so easily, pet.”

Not that he didn't want her desperately by now, but that would ruin the fun. And more importantly the effort he was making to give her this: a night about her pleasure only. 

He leaned forward, the scent of her - wildflowers and forests - filling his nostrils, intoxicating him. Hands resting on her shoulders, her flesh like satin under his fingers, he stilled her. 

His mouth began to water as he leaned down towards one firm nipple. Instead of latching on to suckle at it, bared fangs pieced the skin above it, withdrawing quickly to create two small streams of blood. 

Sera let out a sharp cry and he was thankful he'd thought ahead to set up here, away from their door.

With her delectable blood flowing enticingly, he wrapped his lips around her nipple and sucked. Intoxicating. 

Eyes fluttering closed, he let the taste and scent possess him.  Lazily his hips rolled, cock sliding over her clit, no relief for either of them as he drank the blood flowing from her breast like mother's milk. All the while she gasped and sighed beneath him. 

He could stay like this for hours, teasing the drips from her, not enough to drain her but enough to make his mind and stomach sing. But there was more to be tasted.

With a final lick over the wounds, he withdrew to a noise of disappointment.

“Oh don't you worry, I'm not done with you yet.” 

He’d let himself relive every wicked idea and lustful fantasy he’d had about her while planning tonight. Only some were fit for tonight's purpose, the rest he would get to in time. They had so much of it now. The fantasy enticing him would definitely serve his goal though. 

Getting up, he retrieved a toy and vial of oil from the box, placing them between her legs on the rug, making as much noise as possible. Sera adorably tried to hide her curiosity in silence but the sound of her blood did not lie. 

Coming to stand next to her head, he dropped to his knees, smirking at the intake of breath as he caught her off-guard. “Mouth open, darling, and trust me.” 

Obediently she opened wide for him, a welcoming, waiting hole. 

Very carefully, he placed his knees at her shoulders, and lowered himself over her, sliding his cock into her warm mouth. Wantonly, she moaned around him and he couldn’t stop his own answering groan. Elbows on either side of her hips he gave an experimental thrust, felt her tongue lapping at him. She was good - so, so good, sucking  from underneath him, pliant and submissive.

His hips moved again and he felt his cock twitch inside her. Not yet, he scolded himself. 

Arms wrapping around her thighs, nails digging into her soft skin just enough, he buried his face in her cunt, sodden in expectation of him. Nothing was as intoxicating as her blood, but the taste of her juices, flowing for him, was as close as one could get. Not even bothering to tease, he lavished his tongue over clit, relishing in the much-muted noises. 

It wasn’t enough though. Two of his fingers slipped into her sex, working her as his tongue continued its ministrations. His own hips picked up a rhythm, carefully fucking her mouth. 

Sera’s breath was coming in desperate gasps, the poor thing was nearing her limit. 

“You can wait a little longer, my pet, can’t you? For me?” 

The sound that answered he took for a yes. 

Sucking on two fingers from his unoccupied hand, he coated them with his saliva, and began to tease the last of her holes gently. She was tight and untried, sowith a delicate touch, he worked his way inside. 

Frantically, she lapped at the cock in her mouth, as though to plead with him for release as he fucked all her holes at once. A noise like a scream erupted from her as she shook against him. He could be merciful, he supposed. 

“Go on then, love, come for me.” To punctuate his words, he took her clit between his teeth and sucked. 

It was only moments later he felt her clench around his fingers, and a soft whimper followed. How he wanted to let go too, to spill his seed down her throat and let her taste him. Instead, he pulled his mouth from her and eyed the toy he’d left waiting. 

“Shall I ravage you properly, pet,” he teased, knowing she still couldn’t answer with words, but the thunderous melody of her heart spoke for her. His favorite sound in the whole world, that organ, beating out the song of her vitality, a real and living love. 

“But I’ve got one more treat for you. Now be patie– hgn!” Sera sucked deeply, tongue flicking over his sensitive head. “Naughty little thing,” he scolded. “I should stop right now.” 

They both knew he wouldn’t make good on that threat but still she ceased the attempt to goad him. 

Taking the vial of oil, he carefully coated the small, metal bulb in it. It was delicate work, he knew from horrible experience, but she’d been curious for some time, and was so eager for his fingers just now. The tip of the toy pressed against her and she tried to roll her hips into it. Once, he never would have bet sweet little Sera could be so wanton and needy. And it was all for him. 

Gently, he pushed it inside her, until she had taken it all. A couple of teasing pumps to keep her desperate, and he rose back to his knees, cock slipping from her mouth. 

He took a moment to admire his handiwork; drool running from her mouth, tears escaping her blindfold, her cunt swollen and dripping. 

Gods, she was beautiful.

Kneeling between her thighs, at long last, he gripped her hips, and drove into her, letting out a sigh of relief. Her warm slick squeezed him tight, eager to take all he could give. The feel of the toy inside her pressing against him added another dimension of pleasure, almost too much. 

He thrust with a desperate cadence, his mind fading into only feeling and wanting, almost the same as when he drank from her. The sounds of her pleasure were muted as though miles away. Hips slapped against skin, fingers dug bruises into her skin. 

Again he felt her, climaxing, thrashing, moaning uninhibited now. His cock twitched, gods, it was too much, and he felt himself let go. 

There was stillness and gradually the sounds of the cave penetrated the haze. Sera lay still, her breathing evening out after the exertion. Leaning down, he kissed her with all softness, his undead heart almost quickening with the raw, unbridled, affection he felt for her. 

“You did so well,” he whispered into her ear, “now let’s get you out of all this and into our bed.”

Under a mound of covers, Astarion held Sera close, as she lay with her head resting upon his chest. Idly, her fingers traced lines across his chest. Finally she made a thoughtful hum that drew him from his thoughts. “Yes, love?”

“I was thinking– if this is your treatment for melancholy– do you believe in preventive medicine?” Sera tittered giddily. 

“Oh my darling,” Astarion purred exaggeratedly, “I can most assuredly give you whatever dosage you require.” 

He tightened his arms around her and pulled her up to kiss her properly. They were so lost in the laughter that followed, Astarion barely noted the ease with which he lifted her, strength he hadn’t had before. 

[armpirate]

Anti-romantic || JJk | Ch. 32

Pairings: Boxer!Jungkook x fem!reader || Enemies to lovers, neighbors

Genre: smut, angst, fluff, curse, illegal boxing, violence

Warnings: fuckboy!Jungkook x reader, smut, dirty talk, curse, mention of tarot and fate

Summary: Jungkook had always been carefree when it came to love. He always believed he was worth sharing himself with everyone, and thought it was selfish of him to ever think of keeping himself exclusive to just one person.

And maybe that was exactly what got him into the big problem he was in.

A curse that kept him away from love didn't seem an issue for him. The fact that his ex-girlfriend thought he'd be affected by the idea of the girls he slept with running away from him after sex was ridiculous. She actually did him a favor, and took a burden away from him.

At least that was what he thought at first.

He had never found himself thinking of the possibility of repeating with neither of his hook ups, because they disappeared before he was able to even think about it. But when he makes the mistake of sleeping with the sexy neighbor that lives in front of him, he finds himself hoping to get the chance for a second round every time their paths cross.

Y/n hated him the second he set foot inside the building by the way he started making her life a miserable mess for no reason. Sleeping with him was a big mistake she wasn't thinking of repeating. At least not until he came up with the excuse that she rejected him for a curse. Not only she thought he was annoying, but she was also convinced he was crazy. 

There was no way she could take him seriously.

Aprox. time of reading: 16 minutes

Previous || Next

MASTERLIST

Chapter warnings: smut, explicit language, dirty talk, oral sex (female and male receiving), titjob, protected sex

The wind whipped through their hair as Jungkook and Y/n sped down the dark streets on his motorbike, the city lights flashing by in a blur. They had left the wedding in a whirlwind of laughter, the joy of the night still buzzing in their veins. Y/n held onto Jungkook, her laughter vibrating against his back as they joked about the awkward dance moves they'd witnessed and the overly enthusiastic drunk uncle who had insisted on sharing his life story, just like the bar moment also turning into another story to laugh at.

As they pulled up to their apartment building, the laughter continued. They bantered back and forth, replaying the most ridiculous moments of the evening.

—I still can't believe you actually caught the bouquet —Jungkook teased as they climbed off the bike, his eyes sparkling with amusement—. See how the universe is speaking to you?

—Thank god I'm not so witted to catch those signs —Y/n shot back, grinning as she pulled the helmet off her head, letting her hair tumble down.

—I was going to say you aren't dimwitted, but you're rejecting me, so... nevermind —Jungkook chuckled, running a hand through his own hair, which was a mess after the ride.

—Also, if that was a sign from the universe, it has a really good sense of humor —she continued, rolling her eyes playfully.

—The universe is sending you a boxer with a motorbike, and plenty of bad jokes. Why'd you take it as a joke? —Jungkook shook his head, taking that conversation a little bit too seriously as they entered the lift and pressed the button for their floor.

—The same guy who needed a curse to get his eyes on me? —her eyebrow arched with the sneaky question.

—3A, my eyes would've been on you, curse or not.

They shared a look, the kind of look that held more than just teasing, but before either of them could delve into it, the elevator doors opened with a soft ding. They stepped out, still grinning and jostling each other as they walked down the hallway.

But as they rounded the corner toward Y/n's apartment, her steps faltered. Jungkook noticed immediately, his smile fading when he saw what she was looking at.

Y/n's apartment door was ajar, the wood splintered around the lock as if someone had forced their way in. The door hung slightly off its hinges, creaking ominously as it swayed.

—Wh...? —Y/n whispered, her heart dropping into her stomach.

She instinctively reached out to push the door open further, but Jungkook grabbed her arm, stopping her.

—Wait —he said, his voice low and serious, all traces of their earlier lightheartedness gone.

He stepped in front of her, cautiously pushing the door open with his foot. If someone was still there, he wanted to be the first one to confront them.

The sigh behind him was loud, with the air escaping her lungs but still, somehow, ending up stuck in her throat. Her apartment was a disaster. Furniture overturned, drawers pulled out and emptied onto the floor, broken glass scattered across the hardwood. It was as if a tornado had ripped through the space, leaving chaos in its wake.

Jungkook's eyes scanned the room, his expression darkening as he took in the extent of the damage.

—Stay here —he instructed, his voice tense.

He stepped inside, ready to throw hands at whoever had attempted to break into her place and touch any of her things without her consent. Only to realize it was something deeper and more dangerous than a mere theft, aware of it as soon as he stepped inside her room.

It isn't so funny when others dig in your business, right?

The words were painted across the closet in front of the door, red paint and capital letters. It couldn't be more obvious who that was coming from.

His fist moved up instinctively when he felt something touch his back, relaxing when noticing Y/n's scared eyes looking at him from up close.

—I told you to stay back —he sighed—. Go back to the living room, there's nothing here.

But while Jungkook tried to push her back, she managed to see the red letters over his shoulder, a cold shiver running down her spine when she was able to read the whole sentence.

Y/n swallowed hard, unable to tear her eyes away from the warning. Her closet had been left untouched in terms of the mess, as if whoever did this wanted her to see this specifically. The message was clear -they knew she was getting close to something, and they wanted her to back off.

It was the first time in those two months Jungkook saw her in such shock, shaky hands letting go of him, while her eyes were kept widely open without moving away from the warning.

—Let's get out of here. You aren't staying here tonight —he assured her, softly pushing her away.

As they stepped back into the hallway, Y/n glanced back at the wreckage of her apartment, a chill running down her spine. The reality of the situation was sinking in fast, but she knew one thing for certain -whoever had done this wasn't going to scare her off.

Jungkook gently squeezed her hand as they made their way back to his apartment. Despite the fear gnawing at her, Y/n couldn't help but feel a small sense of comfort. Whatever came next, she wasn't facing it alone.

Her thumbs pushed against one another, pulse still racing up while sitting down in his couch, with her sight being overshadowed by the glass of water he placed in front of her. He sat next to her, unsure of what to do or say, because he knew nothing would change how scared to death she was.

—They want me to stop —she whispered.

—They're trying to scare you —Jungkook assured her—. I know who's behind this. I've seen these antics several times. It's their way of warning you before things get worse. Why don't you just give it up?

—I can't —she whined—. It's the first time in years I'm finally seeing some light. I can't do this to Noah —her head slowly shook while looking down.

An urge to protect her suddenly fell over him, invading each one of his thoughts while he looked at her. But, at the same time, he knew the relief, the feeling of closure, how much she craved them to be able to move on, and he just couldn't look away from it.

—Then I guess you know things will get tougher —he mentioned, trying to wash off the concern in his face to bring back the confident facade that made her feel at ease—. And I guess this is the moment you realize you need me more than ever.

—You'll help me?

—I have nothing to lose —he shrugged—, and that's my habitat. You won't be able to do anything without me. And also, they'll have to walk over me first to get to you.

As he pronounced those last words, his bratty expression slowly turned into a serious one without him noticing, eyes piercing through hers to make sure she understood how serious he was about his words.

But her mind had left behind the worry out of nowhere, only being able to focus on him, and how shiny his lip rings looked under the warm lights of his living room, in full contrast with his soft pink lips.

—What's that look? —his face moved back a little to be able to look at her face— Do you want to kiss me?

—Do you always have to speak so much?

The scoff was followed by a new advance that he didn't interrupt, feeling how his body turned warmer when her mouth covered his in a gentle kiss where their lips merely touched. The first brush of lips was tentative, almost as if asking for permission from each other, just to realize it was something they both had been dying to do.

The kiss deepened, becoming more urgent, more desperate as their hands began to explore, memorize, and claim. Tongues pushing against one another, while their hands ran over their bodies like it was an unconquered space they needed to own. It was like they had no control over themselves, the kiss was what dictated their next move.

His tattooed fingers ventured down the skirt of her dress, feeling like melting when he realized how soft her skin felt under his touch, and almost losing his sanity when he thought how soft she'd feel around his hips every time he pounded into her.

His touch was an invitation that Y/n took nothing to understand, moving over him to straddle his lap, not thinking a single time of breaking off the kiss. Jungkook's hands moved up her skirt again, tracing the curve of her ass, moving past the fabric to reach the zip on her back.

—Have I ever told you how good purple looks on you? —he smirked, teasing the sensitive skin on the back of her arms to reach the thin straps.

Before he could move them down, Y/n stood in the middle of his parted legs, slipping down her dress with such grace that Jungkook was thankful he wasn't standing. The fabric moved down her curves, exposing each centimeter of skin, while she was left only with white lace panties.

—Shit, you're going to look so beautiful in our wedding.

Y/n pushed him back to the backrest when he attempted to reach for her, being the one bending over him to kiss him again.

—Jungkook, don't you ever shut up?

—And not let the woman of my dreams know what I think? That's selfish.

—Fine. I'll have to find a way to shut you up.

At that point, Jungkook was expecting anything. Another kiss, maybe even another kiss, but not her sinking to her knees in front of him.

She was right: she found the way to get words stuck in his throat.

The way her smirk expanded when she was aware of how nervous he looked only worked to feel him tightening against his boxers. She could feel the way his muscles tensed as she moved her hands up his thighs, dangerously close to the bulge that was forming.

—Cat got your tongue? —she teased, unzipping his pants.

—If I say all the things going through my head right now...

His body squirmed, interrupting his sentence again when he felt the humidity of her tongue tracing his length over the black fabric.

—I don't think it's a good idea to suck me off.

—Well, if you cum —she started, moving down his boxers—, I might have to get you hard again.

Her tongue's first contact with the tip almost had his toes curling. It was a reaction he had never had before, and it only made sense for it to happen with Y/n. The licks started in circles, taking a taste of the sensitive spot before her eyes darted up to him when she started closing her lips around it, moving down to show off the bulge on her cheek, which she slowly gulped down until half of his dick was inside.

Jungkook was unable to hold eye contact, with his head falling back with a heavy sigh. Too lost already on the feeling to add something else to destroy him. The feeling of her mouth was warm and wet, tongue strategically moving down her lips to lick at the same time she sucked up and down slowly. And he also concentrated on the sounds, on every bit of air she took whenever she got the chance, on every wet sound coming from the spit in her mouth, which was slowly coating his dick, and every damned hum she made, making sure he knew how much she liked it.

—Babe, if you keep using your mouth, it'll be over faster than it started.

Her lips were parted when she moved away from him, eyes barely open while she cleaned off the drop of saliva running down her chin.

—I won't use my mouth, then.

Jungkook thought that was the moment she'd move up his lap to ride him, but he should've known better than to think he'd know her next step.

She moved her breasts over his length, at first brushing her skin against his, before she placed both of her hands on each tit, wrapping his dick between them. The movements were slow and relaxing, in wide circles, but she didn't take long to start moving up and down.

And whenever she thought she couldn't get encouraged to take the next step, Jungkook showed up hotter than before. There was something about that night, the words he said, the way he looked at her and the suit he was wearing that just made it click for her.

—You're looking pic worthy right now —he assured her with a raspy voice, thumb moving over her lower lip before she moved her head to trap it in her mouth—. Shit, who am I kidding? Not even a pic would be able to capture this. Fucking god. That's it, let me get a condom.

—No, I'll get one —she stopped him.

It was faster for her to look through her purse than letting him go to his room to find one.

As Y/n bent over the coffee table to reach the small bag, Jungkook thought it was too harsh to just stay still. His face sank in her buttcheeks, almost making her lose her balance when his tongue teased her entrance over the fabric. Her knees went weak, almost betraying her, when he moved the panties aside to be able to taste her, sinking his mouth on her folds so his tongue would be able to move around her entrance.

—Two can play this game, bunny —he hummed against her core, lips coated in her arousal before he licked himself clean.

His hand was firm on her belly, holding her when she was about to trip when two of his fingers digged inside her humid channel.

—Open it and hand me the condom —his other hand reached for hers on her side, grabbing the package carefully.

His breath was heavy when his fingers moved down to the base, wrapping himself with the latex while two of his fingers stretched her out, making him wish it was him doing it.

—Let me ride you —she asked with a weak voice.

There was no point in him fighting her command, she moved away, slipping his fingers out, before he could even open his mouth to complain.

—I need your cock —she said under her breath, straddling his lap again.

—You need me?

Y/n was too focused on moving her hips down, feeling the way the tip of his dick pressed against her entrance before it stretched her out until both of their hips met. Only then she was aware of the smirk and the cocky tone in that sentence, matching him by doubling down his smirk, tilting her head while she looked at him.

—You're going to use this against me, aren't you?

—I might —his hips thrusted up, making her gasp when their hips collided once again as she moved down— frame it somewhere.

Her lips collided against his as her hips started a hypnotic movement, curving her hips as she hopped on him. One hand on the wall to keep her balance, another one on his neck so he wouldn't move away and break the kiss, and he loved seeing her having everything under control.

But it wasn't enough, because Jungkook broke the kiss, pushing her a bit higher, bulking his hips against her with steady, yet slow and deep, thrusts. The hand on his neck fell to his shoulder, while some weak moans just sounded louder when his lips started kissing her side, moving up to her breast and getting dangerously close to her nipple.

—Move over the armrest.

It was like in that moment there was no point of thinking by herself, quickly moving to his orders, belly over the right armrest, while her ass was up in the air. Too tempting for him not to get a taste of her again.

Her eyelids fell closed when his tip pressed against her core again, digging deeper with one thrust.

He was a tease, but she was one bigger tease. Her eyes hunted over her shoulder, looking at him before she started moving back and forward around his dick, letting him enjoy of the way he kept disappearing inside of her, only worrying about cupping her ass, squeezing her cheek with his right hand before he traced a small line down her arched spine, reaching her nape.

Succumbing to him, after he made such a small gesture as closing his fingers around the back of her neck, while he bent her body forward until her torso was pressed against the furniture, was one of the best feelings, knowing it'd only lead to an unforgettable experience.

Her body bounced when he pounded into her with a harsh move, followed by another one, and another one, slowly increasing the speed of his hips until the constant clapping of their bodies filled the room, his groans and her moans creating a perfect synergy that only added more to their hunger.

—Huh, you're not so considerate to neighbors anymore —he groaned, four fingers holding tight on some locks of hair, while his thumb caressed the spot behind her ear—. Look at you being so loud while I pump into you.

Those words only worked to turn her on even more, making her aware of the lengths she always went when it came to Jungkook. She didn't know what he had, what was so special about him, but she folded whenever he tried enough. And she was starting to think there was no reason to keep fighting it anymore.

Her face was hiding in between her arms, belly over his mattress, while she tried to recover some air back. Her legs were sore, her throat was hurting, yet it was worth every second of it.

Jungkook stood at the door frame to his room for so long he lost count of it, finding himself smiling when he noticed the way her left foot rested over the right one, slightly curving when she found the right position a few seconds ago. His head was tilted when he pointed out the dimples on her spine. He had never found himself so mesmerized by someone else's body.

She was indeed perfect from every angle.

Her body squirmed when his fingers traced an invisible line from one mole on her side to another on her shoulder, ending up moving his fingers over the curve of her shoulder to get her attention.

—I brought you some water —he whispered, raising the glass on his other hand, as if the eyes on her nape would see it.

—Maybe a new pair of legs would be better —she mumbled, voice muffling against the sheets.

—Do you want a massage? —he sat next to her— I'm really good with those.

With that suggestion, her eyes peeked over her upper arm with a curious and smiley look, before she shook her head and clicked her tongue, forcing herself to roll over her body and rest her weight on her elbows.

—Some rest will make it —she smiled, pressing her lips against one another—. I know where that massage will take us and nope. Sorry, but I have to decline.

—Hmm okay. Will save it for the next time.

—Who said there will be a next time? —her eyebrows furrowed when he moved over her to lie at her right.

—Watch —he assured her, nodding while he rested his head on the pillow—. I'll make you never want to move away from me, just the same way I don't want you to move away a single millimeter right now.

Every possibility of teasing was erased by his expression, leaving aside his cocky nature just so Y/n would understand the seriousness in his words. She finally laid on her back next to him, staring at the ceiling.

—How will you do that with that, supposed, curse going on?

—I'll work against the curse —his eyes moved slowly on hers—. That's how bad I want you.

—That sounds like something that would be said in one of the teenage movies in 2012 —she whispered, getting closer to him.

—Y/n... I can't... —his overacted words, imitating any of the acting in those movies had her giggling—. I know you want to give me a chance —he went back to his normal tone—. How long do I have to crawl for you to take me in?

—Just a little bit more.

—Will you spend the night here?

—Do you want me to spend the night here?

—Isn't it obvious? —he scoffed— Feel lucky if you don't wake up tied to the headboard.

—That's... actually... making me think twice whether to stay or not —she hesitated.

—You can't walk. Your legs are hurting.

No reaction was allowed from her when his arms were already wrapped around her body to glue her to him, hiding his face in the curve of her neck while he felt the vibrations running through her as she giggled.

They stayed like that for a few minutes, in silence after he turned off the lights, until his brain went back an hour and a half ago, remembering something he had said.

—Bunny, of course —he clicked his tongue—. How did I not think of that nickname that night?

—What night?

—The night you tried to make me jealous while jumping on your bed.

—Oh, fuck off. I can't believe you're thinking of that now.

Jungkook held tighter to her the more she pushed to move away, making it impossible to keep a safe distance.

—I did get jealous though —he admitted in between her huffs—. Honestly, I was thinking of, at least, five ways to get that asshole to run away.

—Five ways, huh?

—I won't tell them —he quickly answered when he felt her eyes on him— I'm not giving you ideas.

Y/n didn't move when he took advantage of her position to slide his arm under her neck, she didn't complain when he squeezed his cheek against her head. She liked the rhythm of his heart against her back, she liked the way Jungkook felt skin to skin. She liked the feeling of reassurance he gave her with small gestures.

Did she... like Jungkook?

Taglist: @jk97bam @ttanniett

[blasphemous-lies-and-deceit]

💘 fake relationship / mutual pining / dared to kiss

"Well, look who it is. How's the hand, Archivist?"

Jon stopped dead at Gerry's side, hand tightening around his, the sudden cloud of his breath vanishing in the cold air. "Jude," he gasped without turning around, eyes very wide and afraid. Gerry turned and directed his glare at the woman who had called to them, standing beneath a glowing neon sign. Despite the freezing rain falling on their heads, she was only wearing a button-down top, and the rain hissed as it landed on her shoulders and folded arms. Her burning eyes were fixed on Jon, full of spiteful mockery, and Jon pressed close to Gerry's side, shaking with more than the cold. Gerry very pointedly stepped in front of him so he was blocking her view, not needing to know what was going on to know he had to stand before Jon and keep her away from him.

Those burning eyes shifted to him instead, and a smirk pulled the corner of her lips up. "Looks like we got to you, too," she gloated, eyes lingering on his arms like she could see through his jacket. His burns itched with phantom pain, and Gerry had a growing suspicion about who she was and what she'd done to Jon. "What are you, his bodyguard?"

"My fiancé," Jon spoke up before Gerry could answer, glaring back at her while twining their arms together.

Well. Okay then.

Gerry tried not to let his shock show on his face, even though it felt like his heart was about to beat right out of his chest. Jude's eyes flicked to their hands, but they were both wearing gloves, so there was nothing to see. Her smirk turned meaner.

"How lovely," she spat. "The Watcher's Antichrist has his own Messiah." She took a step closer, slush melting under her feet and boiling away into nothing. "Shouldn't you know better, Archivist?" she spat, hands clenching into fists. "You think your love is enough to defy your god? You and I both know how it ends- with nothing but ash and broken-"

"Enough."

The force behind Jon's order shook all throughout Gerry, rattling his teeth and spine and tingling in every one of his tattoos. Jon pressed forward, eyes glowing and sharp, locked onto Jude hungrily. Gerry still clung to his hand, but didn't pull him back. This was why they were out wandering the streets, after all. Looking for anything that Jon could safely consume. Jude may be a bit hot, and ineffective if he already had her statement, but he wasn't about to stop him.

"Your experience does not define my fate," Jon intoned, planting his feet firmly and not swaying against the abrupt rise in temperature. "I may not be able to defy the Eye but I can defy you. I have what I have and I love who I love and there's nothing you can do about it." Despite herself, Jude took a step back from the force of her words. "You should leave, before I make you regret living without your own Messiah."

Gerry had no idea if Jon could actually carry out his threat, and Jude didn't seem to want to risk it either. Her feet shuffled backwards, never taking her eyes off Jon. "You'll regret this, Archivist," she warned, shoving her hands in her pockets. "I'll burn everything you love to the ground, and I will make you watch."

"Unless I watch you melt first," Jon growled, making Gerry shiver at the fury in his voice. Jude made her retreat, ducking back inside from where she came, and Jon deflated, letting go of Gerry's hand and flexing his fingers, forehead furrowed in pain.

"That was...unexpected," he muttered, almost to himself.

"I was hoping you'd melt her right then and there," Gerry joked, feigning disappointment so he didn't have to focus on what Jon had said. It didn't seem to work, as Jon's shoulders were hunching up around his ears, the way they did when he was nervous and flustered.

"I, uh..." Jon trailed off, a blush spreading across his cheeks as he tilted his head down, eyes far away from Gerry. "Sorry about the, uh, fiancé. Thing. That, uh, just came out, I didn't mean to, to surprise you like that, it...feel free to ignore me if...if..."

"Stop," Gerry demanded, cutting him off before Jon could say anything else. His heart was aching, from the sudden possibility threatening to go back to impossibility. The thought of losing something he never even had was tearing at him, he couldn't keep silent, even against his every instinct screaming at him not to believe what Jon was offering him. There was no way to keep the trembling out of his voice as he continued. "Don't...don't apologize if you...if you don't really mean it."

Jon's mouth opened, then closed with a click. "I...I won't apologize, then," he muttered, eyes very wide and shining. "I...Gerry, I..."

Gerry stopped him by taking his hand again, pulling off Jon's glove to reveal his bare trembling fingers. His own hand found one of the necklaces strung around his neck, long enough to hide under his shirts, from which hung a faded gold ring. He'd found it years before while snooping through Mary's things, hidden away in a drawer like a trophy. It wasn't hers, Gerry was certain of it, and so he'd taken it, and kept it for himself, one single thing he had from Eric. The ring hadn't fit him in years, and yet it slipped so perfectly onto Jon's finger, like it was supposed to be there.

Jon looked down at the ring, eyes bright with tears and Beholding. "Oh," he whispered thickly, closing his fingers into a fist and locking the ring in place. "Gerry, you...really?"

"Yeah," Gerry answered back, just as choked up. As far as proposals went, it was highly untraditional, but hell, the Eye had already marked them as each other's, so who the fuck cared about the usual traditions? Jon raised their hands, looking up at Gerry as he pressed a kiss to his knuckles, where his own ring would sit, once he found the right one. Or he could just tattoo a black line around his finger, as permanent and lasting as the rest of his tattoos, including the one that was now Jon's.

Gerry closed the minimal space between them, using their hands to lift Jon's chin and leaning in to kiss him. Jon made a soft noise as their lips met, swaying in towards him like a magnet on a string. The kiss wasn't deep or passionate, but it was the right kiss for the moment, a sealing of the promise they were making to each other. That as terrible as things would become, they would be together through it. And afterwards, if a life existed for them afterwards, they would still be together for it.

[hwangism143]

off - limits (preview)

synopsis: hwang hyunjin was multiple things to you: incredible. god-like. everything. but most of all, he was off-limits. that is, until, you both are forced to share a room at a beach getaway. sounds perfectly romantic, right? except for your fear of the ocean and his recent break-up.

pairing: non-idol!hyunjin x fem!reader

genre: best friends brother trope, one room trope, angst, fluff

warnings: mentions of alcohol, swearing, mentions of death, nightmares, graphic description of nearly drowning (more warnings will be added to the main fic)

word count (preview): 968 words

release date: 03/05/24

a/n: finally! my first over 10k word fic lol. this was requested to me by @scarlet789 and i immediately started working on it. you can send in an ask or reply below if you wish to be added to the taglist for this fic, coming out nest friday!

preview down below

"Hmm," Hyunjin hummed in contemplation to something you had said, "You know, I always liked your company more then Hyun-jee's. Don't tell her though." He had mischievous look in his eyes and a smirk on his lips, eliciting a laugh from within you and bringing back a memory you had forgotten.

You were still slightly awed by the fact that the Hwang Hyun-jee invited you to spend summer with her. At a ski lodge. A fricking ski lodge! The shocking revelation that you could be considered cool enough to hang out with her and her brother were the thoughts in your head as you stared at the copy of Emma in your hands, pretending to read the text.

Beside you, you could hear the steady scratching of pencil against paper, interrupted only by the symphony of an eraser rubbing against the sheet. This little orchestra playing next to you was evidence of Hyunjin's existence, an art in itself if anyone asked you.

"You should teach me French," he asks you out of the blue, "For when if leave to go to Paris."

You look at him inquisitively. He told you that he got accepted into art school in Paris a few days ago. You did feel sad about the fact that he was going, but deep down you knew very well that practically, after this summer your interactions with Hyunjin would be few and far in between.

"You have Hyun-jee, she can teach you. If, that is, you can put up with her," you retort teasingly.

Hyunjin gives you a sly smirk, "That's exactly why I was asking you. I think I'll like your style of teaching better. And so, I want you to please, please, please teach me French."

You had no idea where this sudden newfound confidence to flirt with Hyunjin had bloomed within you but, oh well, you only live once. "Do you want me teaching you, or just me in general?"

"Ah," he said shaking his head regretfully with a smile, "Even though you have only known me for a few weeks, you already know me too well."

Butterflies ignite in your stomach, although you're pretty sure he was just playing along with you. You wonder what he's sketching, his bottom lip caught between his teeth and his eyes set in concentration. Even though you have a feeling it isn't, you sincerely hope it's you.

You don't know that your hopeful assumption was true.

A tightening in you chest starts to grow when the topic shifts to love. Earlier, talking to Hyunjin about love used to come as easy walking on your two feet. Now, it just hurts. He asked you if you were seeing someone. You promptly replied in the negative. You asked him if he was seeing someone. He reflected your answer back onto you.

But what did it really mean? You were always going to be bound in this life by that unspoken oath you made to Hyun-jee all those years ago. It wasn't even about love anymore, it was about not breaking another person's trust, a person who you held closer to your heart than most of your family.

You started thinking though. What was the point of hiding your feelings, old or not, from Hyunjin any longer? It wasn't like you could act on it, but you may as well have told him. Maybe then a huge weight from your chest would be released and you wouldn't be shackled by commitments, things you felt you owed to both of them.

"I don't think you know this but," your expression suddenly changed, "I used to have the biggest crush on you that summer."

"Used to?" At this point, Hyunjin is sitting up straight, eyeing you curiously. You roll your eyes and give him a playful slap on his arm. His expression, however, turns into one of regret. You begin to feel remorseful about telling him, paranoia settling in and molding itself into the fabric of who you were.

"That's a shame," he says quietly.

The air changes, charged with something you can't quite place. Hyunjin hols eye contact with you, unsaid words coursing through them. You never really believed in the phrase 'the eye is the window to the soul', but right now, you were terrified of whatever the hell your eyes were revealing to him right now. Hyunjin then proceeds to utter something, something so capable of infusing you with poisoned hope, that it takes your breath away.

"I think I would have loved loving you."

Time has stopped. Feelings of desperation, annihilation and most importantly, temptation, cascade in a whirlpool inside you. It had been years. This was wrong. This was the universe dangling temptation in front of you, urging you to just take a bite. Rebelliously, you wondered, what if you were selfish for one? Why were you feeling this way now?

"I think I would have loved being loved by you," you choke out. Hyunjin's hand laces through yours and gives it a little squeeze in response.

That is when it dawns on you that Hyunjin is as confined in this matter as you, if not more. Hyun-jee is his sister for God's sake; whatever guilt you felt in wanting him, he must have felt tenfold in wanting you. You know exactly what the little squeeze he gave you signifies: It will pass. If it cannot be, it will cease.

And you know it's true because you and Hyunjin can never be 'us' or 'we' as long as you were present in this reality. You wished there was a universe somewhere, a parallel reality when Hyunjin and you were considered of one breath because to breath you would need him like oxygen.

Judging by his expression, he must have been drifting in thought about that too.

[aokoaoi]

Shuri x fem!reader request where she catches her as she’s falling somewhere relatively high? I just melt at the idea of Shuri just catching the reader mid-fall, not like a trip, like an *actual* fall; Shuri has the Black Panther powers (she’s super agile, great reflexes, can clearly move quickly, and I thinkkk would be decently strong) so she should get to put those powers use, dang it! Oh, and would it be cool if the reader is just like “oh. wow.” swoon and not really concerned at all while Shuri’s just freaking out (like “Are you OKAY?!? Are you HURT!!?!”)? I loveee smug/cool Shuri sm but having uncool/nervous/worried/sweet Shuri is such a rarity that I really love it. AND thank you so much for all your Shuri x Reader content. It’s genuinely so hard to find non-smut content of her and you just write her so well!

𝐬𝐚𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐚𝐠𝐚𝐢𝐧?

pairings : shuri x fem!reader.

authors note : im so sorry this took so long😭! I had a hard time writing for this request, my creativity and motivation wasn't really participating so this is just very horrible💀

Your glare hardened on the enemies masked face as they inched closer to you, grabbing the stolen spear a Dora Milaje once held. You inhaled sharply, grabbing your own weapon tightly as you began to walk backwards, not noticing the edge of the cliff behind you.

Not wasting anytime, you striked your spear. The invader ducks, and a mammal behind them emerged and jumped on you. Your sword pierced through the animal instead, and it furiously let's out a pained roar.

The mammals impact on you semd you both backwards, and onto the edge of the cliff. Your eyes widened in realization when your foot felt nothing but air, and the mammals frightened look seemed like they realized it too.

The animal roared slightly as you pushed it away from you with harsh force, watching as it fell more faster than you.

You choked back a scream as you hyperventilated, unsure of what to do. Will you die? God no, you hope not. You'd rather die fighting enemies rather than a fucking mammal.

Your eyes stayed on the ground as the wind wiped on your face, your eyes dilated.

Your breath quickly hitched when you saw something from your peripheral vision, specifically, a black form from the sides of the cliff as it swiftly jumped on you.

A surprised yelp escaped your mouth when you were forcefully pushed to the side by someone's body engulfing your own. Your beloved savior clawed at another edge of a cliff, making a God awful scratching noise in your ears.

At the sound of the scratching, it gave you a clew who the hell decided to jump on a cliff to save you.

Shuris body collided with the rocky surface as she protected you from it by shielding you with her form. You breathed in a deep inhale, rocky huffing as you looked up to her.

Her black panther mask revealed her face, watching as she looked at you with worry as if she hadn't just threw herself on bulky rocks. "Are you okay? Are you hurt?" She hurriedly asked.

You shook your head incredulously, looking at her ridiculously. "..did you just fucking jump off a cliff to save me?"

Shuri opens her mouth to respond, but nothing came out. Her head tilted as if saying 'yeah, duh?'

"What was I supposed to do?" She questioned you, her hand on your waist gripping tightly as she looked down below you two. Her other hand remaind clawing at the side of the cliff.

You merely let out a chuckle, completely trying to forget the fact you were almost gonna die five seconds ago. Your head buried against the girls neck, letting out a sigh of 'holy shit im alive'.

"My love and savior."

Shuri sweatdrops at your words, unsure of how to feel. "Are you sure you didn't hit your head..?" She trails off, and you slightly grinned at her.

"I'm fine. I just fell off a cliff, that's all. You should be more worried about that damn mammal who attacked me." Shuri winced at that, glancing down as if she was looking for the said mammal.

"..yeah."

A few breaths exchanged, and a spark went out in your head. "Shuri how the fuck will we get back up." You removed your head from her shoulders, looking at her incredulously.

She looks at you the same way, eyes wide. "You know how to climb right?"

"Shuri im not some fucking superhuman with panther abilities."

"I'm sure they'll find us here."

"Baby, what the actual fuck."

Shuri grins arlt the nickname, booping your nose with her own slyly. "Say that again?" She hums, coyly looking down at your lips.

You playfully slapped her shoulder, but then ended up letting out a surprised noise when you slightly slipped from her hold. Your arm quickly wrapped around her neck, afraid of falling again.

"Please get us out of this cliff. This'll forever leave a scar onto my memory."

"Hey, it's your fault. You let that tiger tackle you."

"It was a tiger?"

"..it wasn't?"

THAT SHOULD BE MEEEEE AAAUUUUGHHHHHHHHH

[isa-ghost]

I always want more q!phil headcanons, even if there are not asks about it

Oh fuck yeah man. Here's my previous sets if you haven't read them:

Set 1

Set 2

Set 3

And here's more:

He fucking HATES feeling on edge. He's extremely familiar with it, but that never dulls his hatred for the ick it gives him. That knot in his stomach, the flutter in his chest, the reeling in his mind, the fire in his nerves, the tremble in his limbs. That unshakeable feeling that no matter what or where he is, his back is vulnerable. This man wants to be Fight over Flight or Freeze EVERY time, so when he can't control the situation or can't anticipate what happens, he mcfreaks it. How can he prepare to survive when he doesn't know what to prep against? Or in the case of the Ender King business, how can he do anything to prepare against an all-powerful God?

He's struggling a bit with the whole Rose thing. Does he keep her a Death Family Secret? Does he extend her protection to his closest friends like Fit & Ramon? He'd like to give them the same extra layer of security he has from her, even if just to give Fit a little more peace of mind, but he respects Rose & values her & her aid deeply. He doesn't want to stretch her too thin, or worse, come off like he takes her love & protection for granted. It's the one case in which, while very tempting, he resists that urge to be overzealous. He's just torn because he doesn't want to see any of his friends hurt. So because of the way he is, he feels guilty that he has a secret extra oomph to how safe he & his kids are

Speaking of Rose, when there's no immediate crisis at hand, he loves to gush to her about life. He talks so highly of Missa & Fit & Etoiles. He asks her if she's seen the latest silly things Chayanne & Lullah have done. He rants on and on about the Federation. Can you believe those guys Rose?

He tries and, like in all other situations, fails not to swear around/to Rose. She's a deity, a very.. not exactly formal, but Prestigious deity nonetheless. It's no place for swearing. But Phil is cursed with Autopilot Sailor Mouth so half the time he's dropping f bombs while heated or scared about something, he's not even registering what's coming out of his mouth. Besides, he's gotta focus his train of thought or else them 80 HDs he's got will derail it. Can't be focused on not saying the fuck word

Speaking of ADHD, much like his swearing, he sometimes doesn't register himself vocal stimming either. Boosh boosh boosh, he's tunnel-visioned on his task. The kids & polycule find it endearing to witness. Sometimes they get passed onto other islanders

He thinks Bagi is so fucking cool. Like yeah, it's cool his good friend Cellbit has a sister or whatever but that's not what makes her cool. She's fucking brilliant. She's headstrong, she knows what she wants & what she's looking for. She gets shit DONE. And god help whoever hinders her efforts. He's allergic to giving himself any credit whatsoever, so in his eyes she's a billion times cooler & smarter & more badass than he is, rather than like. A few thousand times cooler & smarter. But yeah, she's a superhero in his eyes

Tbh putting him with either of the Theory Twins is a sight to behold. Phil is a brilliant strategist & very resourceful. There's such strong, immaculate chemistry between this man who loves to think & is a natural at planning, and either of the twins who are good at making the puzzle pieces fit & seeking out nooks & crannies for more info. When put together they truly are a force to be reckoned with to the Federation

When left to his own devices & off-duty as dad + not needed by any of the islanders for something serious, he let's loose. No more wise bad bitch crow man who's palpably emotionally damaged yet won't admit it. He's off the shits. You've seen Eggza. That's him de-stressing by fully indulging his favorite things: preparing necessities for survival & being an absolute wildcard.

I can't tell if I like the idea he legitimately can't see glass bc crow hybrid or the idea that he fakes it to amuse the kids & his friends For The Bit better. Maybe he plays it off like a bit but he legit can't see it. Idk.

I said it in a rant about Phil's characterization and I'll say it again: this man doesn't fucking realize he's flawed. Like he thinks he is but not in the way he actually is. He doesn't recognize his actual flaws as flaws. Or doesn't realize they're flaws. Or maybe is ignoring that they're flaws because he uses them to cope or something. Either way. What this man THINKS are his flaws & his actual flaws are entirely different things. In his mind his actual flaws are something he thinks are normal bc he's just Been That Way for so long.

He likes to collect things that make him think of his friends & the kids ("oh Lullah will like this!" "Ooh, Fit said something about needing that!") but because he has that good ol ADHD memory, he'll store it in a backpack for later & then promptly forget about it or get distracted

God, he is so incredibly proud of Lullah for liking to build pretty things like her farm or botanical garden. She really is su niña <3

[Wants to support Chayanne by being involved in his cooking hobby] [Observes Chayanne cooking] [Absorbs no knowledge whatsoever] :D

He hates the rain. Not only is it a Quesadilla Island Horrors omen, but it's also annoyingly wet & makes for even more dangerous mobs around. Also the bad weather makes his wing pain flare up

If only communicators (meta: in-game chat) allowed for sending pictures. At least then he could send Missa memes while they're apart 😭

Stay tuned, I have like 4 other sets coming because I got asks. :D

[simp-ly-writes]

Space Cat

─────── · · A Doctor Who Story (pt.3)

Pairing: 10th Doctor & Cat-Hybrid!Reader, Donna Noble & Cat-Hybrid!Reader

─ · · SUMMARY: You are a cat hybrid. How? You have no idea- just like you have no idea how you ended up in what is defiantly not a police station.

─ · · WARNINGS: silliness, bickering and possible non-canon behaviours. eventual x reader

─ · · MASTERLIST | TAGLIST REQUEST | WORDCOUNT: 894

─ · · A/N: so now I am kinda obsessed with these dynamics.

─────── · ·

You roll over with laughter, wiggling on your spine as your tail lightly waves side to side. Your teeth are popping out as you peer down at the Doctor who offers you an eye roll before giving your head a scratch and picks himself back off the floor.

The console hums underneath you and after all the action of the day, the growing trust of those around you, and of course, the air conditioned space. You feel your eyes closing in fluttering moments as their voices quiet down. Your legs go limp next with exhaustion as you let out one last meow before welcoming yourself back into the dream world.

─────── · ·

Your ears twitch at random, your paws running yet your body lays stagnant. The Doctor peers down at you, eyes holding concern as he looks you over yet his voice tells otherwise. "What on earth are they doing?" He questions, walking closer to you before being gently guided away with a light scolding.

"They are happily dreaming, Doctor. Best let the little thing rest after the day its had," Donna explains in a hushed whisper. The Doctor looks back over his shoulder and then back at Donna before allowing her to lead him towards the living quarters.

"How much longer till we arrive?"

"Not too long now, best you get some rest as well," the Doctor states rather than asks before looking around the space as if discovering it for the first time. He becomes lost in his mind again, walking in circles around the room- seemingly in conversation with himself before he exits the room once more to find something to amuse himself with.

─────── · ·

You don't end up being able to fall asleep for long as the hard surface you lay upon chips at your sore bones. Stretching with a few small cracks sounding, you hop down to the floor and circle around the platform debating which hall to walk down.

As if the room can hear your inner conflict, small lights on the floor beckon you towards a dimly light hall as you begin your parade. With every step you take, your curiosity grows tenfold to the seemingly never ending doors that flank either side of you.

You knock your head against them, forcing them to open as you take in various work spaces to supply rooms. Walk-in wardrobes from every era of humanity and even some costumes you had never seen before alongside a botanical garden.

You press a claw into your leg in an effort to pinch yourself out of whatever dream you still found yourself in yet reality came crashing down at the sudden voice that had you jumping up and back into their arms.

"You do know, curiosity killed the cat, little thing," the Doctor chuckles out to you. You can tell he is mostly joking but as you peer up into his eyes, they hold a degree of unspoken grief from within them that has you wishing you had your human tongue back to ask.

You both stand there quietly for a second before he is leading you further into the green space. He doesn't explain anything in the room nor where these exotic and quite possibly out-of-this-world fauna has came from but he carries you to a corner of the room where a small swinging bench sits underneath a tree.

Taking in the space, you swear to feel the faintest of breezes take a turn around the room as you snuggle into the cushion you had been placed onto. The Doctor kicks back, allowing the seating to rock back in forth in gentle waves as he opens a book and produces a cup of tea from god knows where.

You are chirping again in laughter as your head finds one of the few pillows displayed and in that moment you take a view of the outside world or in better words, endless space. You stand up abruptly, yelling out in shock that has the Doctor spilling his drink all over him with soft curses as he snaps his gaze towards the empty space before you both.

"What do you see?" He asks you expectantly yet you fail to answer, jumping of the bench and racing towards the glass wall. It is cold to your nose as you make smudge marks in it. The Doctor copies you, pushing his face against the glass in an effort to see what you do.

His calmness to the situation has the fur on your back raising in concern and a mixture of fear. You peer cautiously back up at what you believe to be the man before you as he crouches down to pat your head as you swat his hand away with a harrowing hiss.

The Doctor raises his hands in surrender, "Some creature you are, and heres to think we were starting to get along with one another..." His voice trails off looking back into the void of starts.

You don't know how much time passes before a series of footsteps emerge from down the hall. You turn your head to see the familiar red-haired woman making her way towards the both of you, coffee cup in hand as she clinks it with the Doctors empty one on the bench.

"So, whats for breakfast today, space man and cat?"

─────── · ·

(pt.1) (pt.2) (pt.3) (pt.4) (pt.5) ... (pt.6) (pt.7) you are here

[shewhowas39]

smutfic sneak peek

y'all voted for sex pollen for my smutfic to celebrate 100 kudos on Juniper & Starlight. so that's what i'm doing, and it has BEGUN.

basic premise: everyone needs to relax, so Halsin encourages the party to partake in some pipeweed. but it might have unexpected effects on undead...

here's a sneak peek! cw: recreational drug use + dirty thoughts

***

After the pipe is passed around another time or two, the atmosphere does shift. It’s like a heavy weight has been lifted off of everyone’s shoulders, or like dark clouds overhead have parted, letting in a sliver of relaxing, warm sunlight. Shoulders slump and rigid spines relax, and the tension in the room slowly dissipates. 

Astarion’s eyes roam the room, observing his companions. Wyll is listening with a relaxed smile as Gale animatedly monologues about magical theory. Jaheira and Minsc are reminiscing about old times. Lae’zel has already fallen asleep in her chair. Shadowheart is attempting to tell a joke, but she keeps having to stop and backtrack when she forgets details or gets words wrong, even needing to start over once. It seems to have no impact on Karlach, though, who cackles loudly, throwing her head back and clutching her chest like Shadowheart is the funniest person she has ever met. And June…

June is leaning against his shoulder, her gaze lingering on Gale as she occasionally chimes in, adding her thoughts to his musings about the arcane. 

Gods, she’s smart. Not in a flashy or arrogant way. Not the sort of intelligence that drives her to show off or make others feel inferior. She’s subtle about it. But once she gets going on a topic she’s interested in, there seem to be no limits to her knowledge. Astarion had underestimated her at first - with her cute, twangy accent and those doe eyes - thinking she would be simple or uneducated. He’d been a fool.

He reaches up and toys with one of her curls. Her hair is so silky. She must have conditioned it last night. He has a flash of June in the bath, lathering her hair. Her soft, naked skin, wet and soapy. Her cheeks flushed from the heat of the water.

“Don’t you think so, Astarion?”

“Hmm?”

June is watching him. She laughs and smiles at him. Her lips are so pink. So pillowy. They would feel so nice on his. Or on his neck. Or sucking on the tip of his ear. Or sucking on his–

She’s saying something. Astarion forces the lewd thoughts away and tries to listen.

“...access to spell scrolls?”

He has no idea what she’s talking about, but she seems to expect him to agree, so he nods. “Yes, of course,” he says. 

June raises an eyebrow. Maybe that wasn’t the right answer? But she turns back to Gale and Wyll to continue their talk. 

Astarion tries to listen - he really does - but he keeps getting distracted. By the way June moves her hands when she talks (and how good those hands feel when she touches his skin). By the gentle rise and fall of her chest as she breathes (and how good that chest would look unclothed, preferably with his mouth on her breasts). By the way she shifts, crossing one of her long legs over the other (and how much he likes having those legs wrapped around him). 

By the hells, he can feel his trousers going tighter as his mind spirals through a series of delightfully sinful images. 

Not wanting to embarrass himself by letting others see his arousal and thinking perhaps that touching her will help to alleviate some of this fixation, he wraps an arm around June and pulls her onto his lap. She giggles and wraps an arm around his shoulder as he rests his hands on her thighs. She shifts, adjusting her position and–

Oh shit. Astarion realizes he has made a mistake.