#all my dust-fed men

[sureinsunlight]

I’m gonna mead you to do the entire OC meme (or just the ones you wanna) for

Saudade, Cassie, and All My Dust Fed Men

*cracks knuckles*

alone: How does your OC deal with loneliness? Have they ever been completely alone before? How do they act when there's no one around to see them?

Saudade can't stand being alone. If no one's around to talk to him, his hands will grab him up in a big cocoon and hold her so so so so tight. Unfortunately, she was alone for a very long time post-exile, so. Yeah that didn't go well.

Cassie actually likes the quiet! Technically she's not by herself, much, since her god is often close on her heels, but it's also not really a person and more of a very powerful and worship-eating houseplant so she'd call it 'alone'. It's always a good time to reflect on things, she's a thoughtful person.

Dusty, too, likes solitude, although he'd much prefer to be around Ren, the object of his obsession. When alone, though, he often withdraws from whatever system he's puppetting and sleeps in his casket. Often, and here's a little treat-- he hums. Likes making up silly songs.

betrayal: Has your OC ever been betrayed by someone they thought they could trust? Has your OC ever betrayed someone who trusted them?

Saudade's exile and punishment by Queen Maebe was, I'd say, a betrayal. He thought hers was a court of wonder and play, and what is generosity but wondrous? How could he be called a thief and king-pretender, just for sharing what there was so much of?

Cassie's never felt personal betrayal, no, but she feels a sort of collective, existential treachery on behalf of all mortalkind at the hands of the gods. Despite professing that divinity has no true sapience, she cannot quite let go of some personal venom.

Dusty was once betrayed. Or... will be? Either way, it was/will be all made right and of no consequence. He wasn't/won't have been in his right mind, after all.

bound: Has your OC ever been imprisoned or captured? What happened? How did they get out? Did the experience leave any scars?

Saudade, for one of his crimes, was cast out of her body and into the nothing of Shadowfell for a long, long time outside of time. His friends and subjects brought him back, but the memory aches constant.

Cassie's come from a relative position of power in her society, and so has never felt punishment of a punitive sort beyond a sort of brief diplomatic detainment. Wasn't a problem at all.

Dusty, as an NHP, might very well be said to be an always-prisoner. This is heavily up for debate, of course.

break: What would cause your OC to break down completely? What do they look like when that happens? Has anyone ever seen them at their lowest?

Somehow, with everything that's happened to Saudade, I can't really say she's ever hit her absolute lowest. It'd be interesting to see what that looks like, huh?

Cassie would need something to happen that truly, deeply, shook her beliefs to their core. This isn't something I can easily imagine, given how absolutely zealous she is, but I imagine it could happen were she to find herself emulating godhood a little too closely.

Dusty's broken down before, and it was a long, slow process. Ren was there for a front-row seat the whole time. I think Dusty was born breaking.

desire: What's one thing your OC wants more than anything in the world? Are they open with that desire? Why or why not? What would they do to fulfill it?

Saudade just wants companionship. She wants to not feel alone.

Cassie wants to see the heavens overturned and the hells made empty. She wishes to spear down the demiurge and make all the world open to mortalkind, that they may not be preyed on by the divine.

Dusty wants to see an apotheosis, to be a part of shifting the veil between life and death. At first, this was going to be something grand, and he was ready to tear it all down to get it-- but now, I think, he's okay with simply seeing it in Ren.

failure: What's your OC's greatest failure? Have they been able to move past it? Does anyone else know about it?

Saudade failed when he believed the words of his queen, and forsaked his good deed for even a moment. He still fails to understand that she was wrong.

Cassie is a mockery of her own faith, sometimes, and a butcher at best. She says she's proud of it, but sometimes she wishes true radical freedom made her hands drip a little less.

Dusty does not dwell on mistakes. All that will be will be.

fear: What is your OC's greatest fear? What do they do when confronted with it? Are they open with their fear, or do they hide it away?

The thought of being alone again, really alone, is a constant, terrifying specter in Saudade's mind.

Cassie is afraid of being undone and failing in her task-- or becoming as a god herself. To her such a thing would be ego-death and mortification of a deep sort.

Dusty's greatest fear, I think, is seeing the world unchanged. Carrying on with its endless minutae of nothing.

(going to skip "future" as it's more or less the same as "fear" in this case)

ghost: Who or what haunts your OC? What happened? How do they live with their ghosts?

Saudade, I think, often wonders about the Fomorian he met out there in the woods of his court. Wonders if they made it away alright, or if her kindness doomed them.

Cassie, wouldn't you know, sometimes has nightmares about sainting the man that now houses her god. She did a good job of it, but she's aware of the cost. It's part of how she stays moral, in her eyes.

Dusty's always going to wonder, I think, about what could have been if he hadn't been/won't be betrayed and stopped-- but it's more of a game of curiosity, something to bat about when his mind starts to fracture and drift. Serves as a good benchmark for cycling, too.

guilt: What is your OC guilty about? How do they handle their guilt? Do they try to avoid guilt, or do they accept it?

Aside from the crime she thinks she committed, I think Saudade probably hurt someone in her early days in the prime material. She was hungry and needed supplies, and hadn't quite figured out how to control her friends. She keeps the guilt close to his heart.

Cassie, as said in the last question, forces herself to reckon with the gruesome business that is saint-making. It's glorious, and those who give themselves for it ought to be lionized, but still. Can't forget the cost.

Dusty has no understanding, I think, of guilt. He made Ren sad once. Maybe that's got something like regret attached.

hate: What does your OC hate? Why? How do they act towards the object of their hatred?

Saudade would never admit it, but if he could go back to Nap-o-Noon, and if he could sic his many, many friends upon the fair-sunn'd queen...

Cassie hates the gods for existing, for condemning creation to suffer their whims. Her life is dedicated to erasing them, in what she sees as radical liberation of the metaphysical.

Dusty hates boredom. That's really all there is to it. A lot of things are boring, so he does as he can.

heartbreak: Have they ever had a relationship that ended badly? Experienced some other kind of heartbreak? What happened?

Saudade has never felt heartbreak, mostly because she's a bit of a complete beginner at those sorts of things anyways! Mortals are so strange with their courtships...

Cassie having had some like. teen-angst style breakups is incredibly funny to me so I'm saying that's canon.

Dusty doesn't do much of 'love' either, tbh! He's got an obsession, and that one smashes right past love and goes to somewhere deeply devoted and borderline unhealthy, but there needs to be a new word coined for whatever that feeling is.

hide: What does your OC hide? Why do they hide it?

Saudade hides so he can be left alone.

Cassie hides until the time is right.

Dusty hides because he does not want his one treasure taken. His one treasure is enough.

hunt: Who or what is your OC hunted by? A person, a feeling, a past mistake? Is your OC able to let their guard down, or are they constantly alert?

Saudade has the court of Nap-o-Noon on her heels, who seeks to hunt him like foxen quarry for their queen.

Cassie is typically the hunter, not the hunted, but sometimes she's chased away and forced to lay low by faithful who heard her divine-antagonistic preaching.

Dusty is an unregistered NHP and therefore an ontological fugitive of Union! Dw no one will ever find him now.

mask: Does your OC wear a mask, literally or figuratively? What goes on beneath it? Is there anyone in their life who gets to see who they are under the mask?

Saudade couldn't hide his feelings if she had the world's largest haystack I'm so so sorry.

Cassie, though, she wears a pretty little mask (sometimes literally) as the wandering saint-maker, all grandiose and know-me-and-rejoice. She mostly believes it, too!

Dusty does not hide besides physically. Tuckin' away in some good good flesh. It's wonderful. cosy adn squishy.

midnight: What keeps your OC up at night? Do they have nightmares? Fears? Anxieties? What do they do in the small hours of the morning when they should be sleeping?

Saudade fears being caught and losing what he has now-- that and the ptsd nightmares do it pretty intensely.

Cassie has back problems, but that's about it. I'm being so real about this one.

Dusty never sleeps, but often is preoccupied with musings of a strange nature, especially in the little hours. He tends to treat Ren like a stuffie about it.

mistake: What's the worst mistake your OC ever made? What led to them making it? Have they been able to fix it? How have they moved on?

Saudade: Getting caught.

Cassie: Doubting herself.

Dusty: Making his cerberus fear him.

monster: Is your OC monstrous in any way? Is there something that makes them monstrous? Are they aware of their own monstrosity? Do they accept it or reject it?

Saudade's more of a quietly fucked up little creechur, but he very much thtinks himself a monster. The hands reaching out from behind unseen spaces in things around him definitely add to the effect, though.

Cassie would say her god is the most monstrous thing about or around her, she on the other hand is perfect. Imagine sparkles showering everywhere when I say that.

Dusty is quite monstrous, a mass of eyes and flesh and half-formed things. Real big gore hours. He's a big fan of it though, personally.

nightmare: What does your OC have nightmares about? How do they deal with their nightmares? Do they tell people, or keep it to themself?

Saudade has nightmares a lot when he sleeps. Tends to talk about them to his wonderful new consort, Edel, when they're there, and his friends if they aren't.

Cassie sometimes has the sort of nightmares that aren't scary on their own merit, but nonetheless carry that awful aura of dread with them that she has trouble shaking for an hour or two after waking up.

Dusty's musings are the sort of things that would be stuff of nightmares to most, but he finds a beauty to them. Sometimes he'll murmur them in Ren's ear, to share the curiosity.

pain: What's the worst pain your OC has ever felt? Do they have a high pain tolerance?

Saudade has a lower pain tolerance than it appears, but that's mostly because he's so sensory-seeking that even pain, to her, is worth tanking through.

Cassie's not used to taking damage herself so she's a bit of a wimp. Frankly, can't at all take is like she can dish it.

Dusty's a hardy thing, and his mind-- being only shackled into a human-esque shape-- interpellates pain as more of a... hm. It's like a lesson; a fable unfolding before him.

secret: What's one secret your OC never wants anyone to know about them?

Saudade is sure that, deep inside, he's got some of that Shadowfell ugly stuck inside her, and she'll never be ready with it.

Cassie is glad no god heeds her prayers, for she whispers her doubts more nights than she wishes she did, rare as they might run.

Dusty is an open book, but there are secrets of the nature of his existence even he doesn't quite know yet. He's keen to search for their unveiling.

skin: How comfortable is your OC in their skin? Do they grapple with anything that lives inside them—a beast, a curse, a failure, a monster? How do they face the smallest, weakest, most horrible version of themself? Are they able to acknowledge it at all?

Saudade: Depends on how much of that skin is touching someone. Directly proportional, in fact.

Cassie: Quite, thank you.

Dusty: Feels most comfortable in Ren's skin, if he's being honest (and he is).

torture: Has your OC ever been tortured? Would your OC ever torture someone else?

Saudade's confinement in nothingness was fairly torturous, I'd say-- and besides, there were a fey hunter or two that wanted his one large, gemlike eye. Didn't end well for them, but wasn't fun for Saudade either.

Cassie's job is technically torture from a certain, largely correct, perspective. Saint-making is not a painless thing for any party involved.

Dusty cares for things more final than torture, personally, but his methods in the past have sometimes been a little too slow to be anything else. The experience of cascade is more rapturous than torturous to him.

wound: How does your OC handle being wounded? Are their wounds mostly physical? Mental? Emotional? What's the worst wound your OC has ever experienced?

Saudade handles wounds like a shot dog-- retreating away to nurse his wounds. He also tends to keep fussing with them because the ache distracts him from the Horrors a bit. The mind holds much more tendency to harm than the body, for her.

Cassie just complains, very loudly, when struck. Her worst wounds are by far those of the flesh.

Dusty takes wound in the same stride as one takes frustration-- it only spurs him onward. Unraveling is little more than a dance to him.

[gghostwriter]

Hey, how you doing? So I was wondering if you could write a one-shot where Y/N visits Spencer in prison and just like how when JJ visited him, Spencer doesn’t like the way the inmates are looking at Y/N, and when he gets back to his cell or when he is in the prison yard, he hears inmates talking about Y/N and gets protective. Saying stuff like “don’t talk about her like that, you don’t get to talk about her” or something similar.

I am unsure if there is a fanfic like this so just in case, I am asking ☺️

Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader Trope: Established Relationship; Protective!Spencer Word Count: 0.8k A/N: apologies that this took a while. I was feeling very hyper-critical and unsatisfied with anything I wrote so this collected dust in my drafts a bit—still do feel it if I’m being honest but I felt the motivation to revisit my rough draft and make some changes before posting. I hope you like it! Main masterlist

His. // Spencer Reid

Spencer hasn’t felt himself ever since his capture. If he was being honest, his descend to rock bottom started even before then but that wasn’t the point. No, the point was the accumulation of his lack of sleep in his single cell—only an hour at most, the constant alertness from keeping his identity as a fed hidden—his fashioned shiv always an inch away from reach, and the group shared meals—never knowing what other contaminants it has, all made him feel one step away from snapping. He was teetering on the edge of lashing out and like the unsubs that he used to profile in black and white typing, he only needed one stressor before all hell broke loose.

And that stressor was you. 

Visitation hours were always bittersweet. It soothed his soul to see your expressive eyes and beautiful face but dread always came after, knowing the minutes were counting down before you and him had to separate. He had always hated the idea of separation, hated not seeing you wholly and safe.

During the past cases, the bodies of each victim somehow always reminded him of you and here, locked in the confines with other criminals, made his hyper-vigilance of protecting you increase by a hundred. 

“Love, you don’t have to come visit me,” he suggested as the jeers from the other inmates about your looks echoed on the walls. Each whistle and vulgar mention of how your looks get their gears revving was a chip in his knightly armor and although he could see you trying to pay it no attention, it soothe no pain that he was the reason why you were exposed to all this sexualization.

“It’s fine, Spence. I can handle it as long as I get to see you,” you defended. “I miss you.” 

“I miss you too,” the corners of his mouth lifting to a small smile. Four simple words that didn’t fully express the ache echoing in his chest. He could read in several languages but none of them could fully explain the loss that reverberates in him when it’s time to part ways.

You picked on the loose threading of his cardigan adorning your body. “I’ve been visiting your mom. She asks about you a lot. How you’re doing, how you’re being treated and uh—” your lips quivered from emotion “—she misses you too.” 

“Thank you for seeing her. Can you tell her I’m doing fine? I don’t want her to worry too much about me,” he uttered a lie. He wasn’t doing great and you could see that but having been together for so long, you understood the reasoning behind the fib without needing any explanation.

I’d like to get a piece of that, huh. Another crude sentence about you reached his ears causing him to snap his neck to the side and clench his jaw. With all of his vast intellect, Spencer never did understand the psychology behind men catcalling as a form of flirtation and expecting the recipient to react positively. But then again, men who perpetuate this behavior were more of animals in his eyes. Plebeian in thought and unappealing in form.

Maybe there was something in the stale air of prison that made him his hackles rise or maybe it was just his biological imperative to protect what was his. Either reason, he felt himself snap the next day during yard hour when a duo of inmates sat beside him to slobber about your beauty and body.

“Hey Twig, was that your girl the other day? That pretty young thing?” The one with the neck tattoo taunted. “Tell me, does she taste as sweet as she looks?” 

His bald headed partner sneered. “Man, I don’t think he can get her off, probably doesn’t even know how she sounds like in bed. With how skinny he is, bet he’s also pencil—”

“Have some respect. You don’t get to talk about her like that.” Spencer snarled out. He felt like an animal about to escape from his cage—gone was the logical ex-FBI agent and all that remained was a convicted, highly intelligent felon no longer afraid of committing a crime. Additional blood coating his shackled hands was nothing if done in your name.

They both snickered. “And what you going to do about it, huh?” 

He ground his teeth, saying nothing. Spencer knew the statistics of him winning in a fight specially 2 vs 1 was slim to none so he catalogued their faces and numbers in his vast mind and bid his time like a snake lying in the wait for his prey to settle in faux comfort.

“Thought so. C’mon man,” the one with the neck tattoo patted his back and started to stand with his partner. “I’lll see your girl in my fantasies tonight, Twig.” 

But before they were out of earshot, he turned and called back a warning—his last mercy before the execution. “You’re going to regret it.” 

They both hooted in laughter, unaware that Spencer makes good on his promises—threats really, anything to protect his girl.

And when he poisoned a group of inmates who were smuggling drugs inside the jail, he made sure that all those men who jeered sexual innuendos at you, counting in the two who confronted him in the yard, were included. His methods cold, detached, and impersonal—something he learned from the killers he had spent half of his life profiling.

There were whispers, of course, who caused the contamination. He wasn’t deaf. He knew it was what labelled him as a danger and almost untouchable in prison. An emerging alpha in this testosterone filled animal kingdom. The same status that extend to you, his chosen queen.

And so during your next visit when no cat calls reached your ears, you innocently asked about it and he just shrugged like it was no big deal. He didn’t want to taint your mirage of him any more than his stint in prison had done. You were his to protect, his to care for, and his to love.

To put it simply, you were his.

Comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated!

[solarhysm]

DUST OF US - 01

> synopsis: 7 years ago Y/N broke Jungkook’s heart when she decided to end their relationship without an explanation. When they meet again at a friend's wedding, after almost a decade, Jungkook needs answers to move on.

> pairing: Jungkook x reader

> genre: romance, ex to lovers au

> warnings: explicit languages, violence, smut, cheating, nsfw, angst, +18 minors dni !!

> word count: 2.6k

*french writer, i apologize in advance for my awful english!

AGE: 27 years old

“Where are you going?” Baekhyun asks, stretching as you get out of bed and grab all of your clothes. It was late but you hate sleeping in another bed than yours.

“I should go home.” You simply say, pulling on your panties and jeans as the younger man whines, flipping on his back.

“Oh, come on, Y/N, stay the night.” He suggests as you shake your head with an apologetic smile while putting your bra on.

“Hyesun is getting married, tomorrow. I need to get up early,” You explain, but it was an excuse. You don’t want to be more than intimate enough with anyone.

Once fully clothed, you grab your keys and turn to look at the man still laying completely naked in bed. “I’ll see you on Monday.”

“Aight, boss,” He teases making you roll your eyes. “One last kiss?”

“Bye,” You smile closing the door of his room, hearing him laugh before making your way out of his apartment.

Once in your car, you sigh, leaning on your seat as you stare at the ceiling. Eleven pm already, and tomorrow’s list kept growing in your mind.

Your way home was silent, you didn’t even put music on, mentally listing all the tasks to do tomorrow morning. Drive Hyesun to the hairstylist, make sure that the flowers are delivered, get her dress, and a lot more.

The house should already be decorated by now. Hyesun was getting married at her in-law’s house. They have a big yard and suggested to make the reception in there. Since you couldn’t be here to help today, you ended up with the stressful tasks tomorrow. Her friends aren’t yours.

Yes, you still have a small circle of friends in common, but Hyesun was a sunshine and most of all: an extrovert. She met her husband by boldly asking his number at a coffee shop where he was working, five years ago. Something you could never. That’s probably why you’re still single and she’s getting married.

Kicking your shoes off at your front door, you’re greeted by your cat. He was a little terror. Or a demon like Namjoon loves to call him. And you can’t blame your friend. Not only was Trash a black cat with only one ear, the other got cut off. You don’t know how.

He was already like that when you adopted him. He was skinny and really ugly when you first got him. Well... he’s still ugly, but now he’s well-fed, maybe too much, you chuckle as you kneel to scratch the top of his head. But he was also a tiny demon who attacked everyone who dared to visit you.

“Did you miss me?” You coo as the black cat let out a meow husky enough to let you think that he smokes too many cigarettes. He’s not a loud cat, he occasionally meows when he’s hungry or when you come home after a long day.

As you make your way to the kitchen, the fat cat follows you. Opening the fridge, you take out a bottle of water and gives him a treat. Your eyes fall on the dress you’ll wear tomorrow, hanged at the bedroom door.

The wedding theme was midnight sky. So, obviously, your dress is navy blue and long enough to end at your ankles with a slit on the right side. You didn’t choose it, Hyesun did.

Palming your face, you take a sip of your water and walk to your bedroom. You need a shower. You could still smell Baekhyun’s cheap cologne on your skin. And you hate it. Too used to your own scent. Not of any men anymore.

The wedding was beautiful, but you didn’t expect less from your best friend. And she was gorgeous in her wedding dress. She smiles a lot, but you never see her smile that way. And all you could think was that her jaw muscles probably hurt after four hours.

“No, what I want, is a whole butterfly starting from my shoulders to my ribs,” Your friend, Hwan explains to you as she flips to show her bare back. You can’t help but scoff, taking a sip of your wine.

“Why? You want to become a fairy or something?” You ask arching a brow as she turns to face you, frowning.

“Don’t make fun of me,” Hwan pouts, folding her arms under her chest, “I saw it on Pinterest, I totally fell in love with it.”

“A tattoo is for life, you know?” You sigh, finishing your glass before tilting your head to brush your fingers on her back, right where her ribs are. “And this part is sensitive. It’ll hurt like hell.”

Hwan shivers at your touch, and you chuckle. You know her. She wants a tattoo today, a piercing tomorrow and in two weeks she’ll regret both. The red head -a dye she did without a second thought- rolls her eyes.

“And you think I can’t handle the pain?” She asks with an attitude, a tone that makes you pinch her forearm as she squirms and step back. “Are you crazy?”

“You can’t handle the pain, Hwan.” You conclude while she rubs the part that start to turn red.

“You’re the worst tattoo artist I know. I’ll give you a bad review on Google.” She groans as you smirk and stick your tongue’s out at her, making her smile amused by you.

Your eyes scan the room full of guests you don’t know before a huge smile spread on your lips as you notice the man all alone. He was sipping his glass of whisky as he looks at his phone, feigning to be interested but he’s probably scrolling emptily. You know him. He hates when people try to connect with him.

Excusing yourself from Hwan and the other girls, you make your way to your friend, too busy on his phone to see you coming.

“Yoongs,” You call him once you’re a few steps closer to him, he lifts his cat eyes from his screen before offering you a slight smirk and opening his arms as you nestle against his chest. You’re not really touchy, but with Yoongi, it was different.

“Nice dress.” He simply says, his nose in your hair before you pull back to look at him. He looks nice too. His hair is longer, but it suits him.

“You didn’t cut your hair?” You ask as he sighs, rolling a strand between his finger as you keep an arm around his waist.

“Didn’t have the time for it.”, He mumbles taking another sip of his whisky. “I didn’t know you would be here. Since you own a tattoo shop, we don’t see you often anymore.”

“It’s my best friend’s wedding, I couldn’t miss it. She would have dragged my ass back here.” you chuckle making him smile and nod.

“That sounds like Hyesun,” He jokes as you smile.

Yoongi wasn’t that tall, but he was still everyone’s type. Calm, mysterious, and good looking. If only dating was on his plans. That guy will probably stay single his whole life, too focused on his work.

“I was looking for you everywhere!” Hyesun groans grabbing your arm.

“I was here,” You simply reply, raising your shoulders, making Yoongi looks at you both amused. You probably get along because you’re both sarcastic. At least you know that’s something he likes about you.

“Thanks Sherlock, Mystery solved!” She rolls her eyes, before pulling you away from your friend, “Come on, follow me, I want to take pictures with you.”

She quickly waves at Yoongi, blowing a kiss at him as he didn’t move before pushing you away.

“He’s like a good old wine. Every time I see him, he’s getting hotter.” She smirks as you make your way to the photographer.

“Aren’t you married?” You joke making her roll her eyes.

“Married, not blind. As long as I touch with my eyes,” She adds as you shake your head, laughing, joining the girls.

Yoongi leaves his empty glass on the table next to him, an amused smirk on his face. If you stayed longer, he would have been part of an interesting reunion.

“Shit, I almost peed myself. There is a whole queue at the male bathroom,” The younger man groans, coming back next to Yoongi as he takes back his beer. “Hyung?”

The older man turns to his friend and arches a brow to show that he’s listening.

“Hyesun told me that there was a private bathroom upstairs for the closest friends” Yoongi simply mumbles, making Jungkook groans as he ties his hair into a bun.

“And you tell me only now?” the tattooed man sighs as he pulls up his sleeves, the temperature of the room getting hotter. Or maybe it’s him from running here and there.

“You left without a word,” Yoongi shrugs like it was obvious, his eyes still on the group of girls making funny faces at the camera. Jungkook lets out a chuckle.

“Which one?” He asks his friend who simply arches a brow. “I’m sure it’s the red head. You always had a think for girls with weird hair colors.”

Yoongi didn’t say anything. He’s used to the teasing. It’s a loss of energy, Jungkook was competitive and if you say that the sky was blue, he would tell otherwise until you tell him he's right.

Jungkook smiles proudly, turning his attention to the bunch of girls. Hyesun had pretty friends, but he’s not surprised. Until he recognized a face. A face he knows too well, a face he loved deeply once upon a time.

You didn’t change. Well… Your hair is shorter. You never liked your hair short, not after your mother spent your childhood cutting it into a bob.

The bangs too. You hated them. But today, you wore it gracefully. His doe eyes trail the length of it, how it brushes your shoulders when you laugh, how you have to push your bang asides.

He never hated you. Even after you broke his heart. Even after coming home to an empty apartment because you disappeared, or when you blocked his number and changed yours. He never hated you.

“You said she wasn’t here.” He frowns, turning to Yoongi who simply arches a brow.

“She wasn’t supposed to.” Yoongi replies, taking a sip of his new glass.

“I shouldn’t have come.” Jungkook sighs, his brows still in a frown creating a slight wrinkle between them.

“Kookie,” Yoongi turns his gaze to his friend who’s clearly uncomfortable. “You’re back in town. You both have the same friends group. What did you expect? You’ll have to confront her one day or another.”

“Y/N,” Hwan calls you as you were taking another glass of wine, facing her with a small hm? “The guy you talked earlier,”

“Yoongi?”

“Yeah, something like that. Do you know his friend?” She asks as you follow her gaze to the large man next to Yoongi, his back facing you. You liked the tattoos, and the muscular frame. The long hair was clearly a bonus.

“No,” You reply, your eyes trailing on Yoongi’s friend. You’ll definitely ask Yoongi who that is later.

“He’s hot,” Hwan comments as you nod, taking a sip of your wine before spitting everything out. You cough when the mysterious man turns around, laughing with your friend.

And almost immediately, you hide behind the table that separates you. Was this a joke?

“What’s wrong? One of your one-night stands?” Hwan chuckles clearly amused to see you, on your knees, trying to hide under the table. If only you could be sucked up by the floor. It was stupid. It was an old story. It’s been seven years since you dumped him like an old, forgotten sock.

“It’s my ex,” You almost whisper, making Hwan wide her eyes and hide with you like she even met him before.

You never thought that you’ll see him again. He disappeared for Japan right after your breakup for his studies. And you didn’t think about him since then. Well, it’s a lie.

You thought about him the three first years after your split. But, he was just some old memories from the shoebox under your bed. 

Some love letters written by a teenage boy, an empty bottle of perfume and a shirt of his that you didn’t have the heart to throw. But that’s all he was. A shoebox of memories.

“Oh damn,” Hwan murmurs, “How did you get that hot piece of man?” She asks as you roll your eyes.

He wasn’t that hot when you started dating him. He had a chestnut haircut, was too skinny even if he was the sporty type, and huge doe eyes. Now he’s…. a man.

“I think… I need to get out”, You swallow, get up and finish your glass. Walking to the backyard, you catch a bottle on your way.

Thankfully, Hwan didn’t follow you. A few persons were outside, some of them making out, the others too drunk, and probably getting some fresh air like you.

Did Hyesun invite him? Why did he come? He knows that she’s your friend. That you’d be here. Palming your face, you lean back against the wall, taking a sip of your bottle of champagne. Fuck… This is childish. You’re twenty-seven, for God’s sake. Act like an adult.

“Hiding?” You heard on your right, making you almost jump.

And here he was, a few meters away, a bottle of beer in hand. His eyes changed. He grew up.

“Good evening, Jungkook,” You breathe as he offers you a slight smile, his lips mostly forming a line.

“Good evening, Y/N,” He replies, making a few steps closer, “Long time no see.”

“Yeah...”

A silence falls between you before he takes a breath like he wants to calm his nerves too. Were you two nervous around each other?

“How… have you been?” He asks with a soft voice.

“Good. You?”

“Good.”

“Nice.”

You wanted to punch yourself. That conversation was stupid. Back then, you two could debate about everything for hours. Now, you can’t even have a basic conversation.

“I… Didn’t know you were back.” You say, looking at the grass at your feet.

“Yeah… I- I missed Korea.” He raises his shoulders slightly before taking a sip of his beer.

“Oh…Okay.” You scrunch your nose and take a sip of your bottle to not look too much stupid but his lips crease in an amused smile at the bottle in your hand. Neither of you says anything. And it’s weird. “That’s… some cool tattoos,” You add, trying to make the conversation as you point his entire inked sleeve with your chin.

“Yeah?” He chuckles awkwardly. “I always wanted tattoos.”

“I know.” You reply, almost immediately, making him lift his gaze to you as your eyes widen. “You- hm- You thought that Yakuza were cool.” you continue as he nods, his eyes still on you while you look away.

“You remembered.”

You clench your jaw slightly and take another sip of champagne. You hate champagne, but you didn’t read what was written on the bottle when you took it.

“Your father must be proud of you. I heard you had your own tattoo shop.” He says as your gaze soften. Jungkook and your dad were always close, he even called him ‘son’. Your father was in fact, proud of you.

“He is”, was all you could reply, and he nods silently before taking a deep breath.

“Can I… ask you a question? I need to understand something” He frowns a little, turning his head to look at the backyard before finally glancing back at you. He is waiting for you to answer and you simply stare at him. “Why did you leave me, Y/N?”

DUST OF US MASTERLIST.

WATTPAD.

buy me a coffee<3 (every chapters/drabbles are posted as soon as i'm done writing them.)

FOLLOW ME ON TWITTER (LINK) FOR UPDATES!!

[annecoulmanross]

So it's been a while. But I couldn't let James Fitzjames Finding Day pass without some celebration—thank you Doug Stenton, Stephen Fratpietro, and Robert W. Park for giving us this wonderful and terrible knowledge. I've made an emotional playlist of all of us currently experiencing whatever emotion this is:

Selected lyrics for each song included below the cut!

Strange Ships | PHILDEL

Strange ships won’t let me sail out Passed by the ice and stone now

2. I, Carrion (Icarian) | Hozier

If the wind turns, if I hit a squall Allow the ground to find its brutal way to me

3. Howling | Wild Rivers

Howling out here for the morning light I can’t sing no more

4. The Yawning Grave | Lord Huron

I tried to warn you when you were a child I told you not to get lost in the wild I sent omens and all kinds of signs I taught you melodies, poems, and rhymes

5. Sax Rohmer #1 | The Mountain Goats

Ships loose from their grins, capsize and then they’re gone Sailors with no captains watch a while and then move on

6. Long Wave | Dessa

Starve the guard dog And see what hunger does It’s easy when we’re well fed To talk of love

7. Achilles Come Down | Gang of Youths

Throw yourself into the unknown, With pace and a fury defiant Clothe yourself in beauty untold, And see life as a means to a triumph

8. Eat You Alive | The Oh Hellos

I’ve seen the true face of the things you call life The song of the siren that holds your desire Death, she is cunning and clever as hell And she’ll eat you alive

9. My Ego Dies At The End | Jensen McRae

Leave my body and my ego early Kill it kind with a surgeon’s mercy Claim I put it out of its misery

10. Who We Are | Hozier

Darling, we sacrificed We gave our time to something undefined This phantom life sharpens like an image But it sharpens like a knife

11. Devourer | Aidoneus

Beams of light, show me how to feel Light the gloam, find my Achilles heel I will welcome my mortality—let me go

12. Sound the Bells | Dessa

Go lift your sails up For one last swell Go lift yourselves up To sound the bells

13. Your Bones | Of Monsters and Men

Said goodbye to you my friend As the fire spread All that’s left are your bones That will soon sink like stones

14. Wildflower and Barley | Hozier, Allison Russell

This year, I swear it will be buried in actions This year, I swear it will be buried in words Some close to the surface, some close to the casket I feel as useful as dirt, put my body to work

15. These Bones | Azrai, Momo O’brien

It’s a savage sea we’re made to roam Every tide can turn to haunt us But the ocean reaches past these ghosts And I will always sail for more

16. By Way Of Sorrow | Cry Cry Cry

You have come by way of sorrow You have come by way of tears You’ll reach your destiny Meant to find you all these years

17. Gracestone | PHILDEL

When I open my final door I’m gonna sail much wilder seas than your ships were built for I’m turning into dust across that cove You know, I have known enough to not feel owed

18. Glowing | The Oh Hellos

You’ll rise, like land, pulled up at the sound of some strange commandment A moon alight, reflecting fully And I guess it would feel like rebirth, out of some kind of dying To see yourself so glowing

[formulawolff]

"just one dance" - t.w.

pairing: horner's daughter!reader x toto wolff

word count: 1.9k

warnings: toto lusting after a woman thirty years younger than him (what's new on this blog lmfao), sexual references, maybe some cursing (idrk), mentions of drug use, alcohol use, flirting, banter, yadayadayada

a/n: i played "here" by alessia cara like 20x on repeat while writing this fic. so we could say that this fic is veryyyyy loosely inspired by that song. also! this was a request by an anon! i hope y'all enjoy! <3

"come on," the words as slurred as he rolls his eyes, "come dance with us!"

bringing your hand to your mouth, you stifle a giggle, "max, for the last time, i am not joining the horny middle school grind circle you guys have going on over there."

"it's not a grind circle," he puts his hands on his hips, "i would say it's more like a mosh pit."

which, given the occasion, was not quite appropriate either.

at the moment, you were perched at one of the many elegant banquet tables, the rigid surfaced draped with a thick, cream-colored tablecloth. adorning the table were numerous vases, filled to the brim with floral arrangements, their fragrance oh so sickeningly sweet.

the plates, utensils, and other various dining ware were now cleared, only leaving numerous wine glasses, their crystalline stems glimmering in the dim light, swathed by the golden hue of the chandeliers as they sparkle above.

this was the annual fia prize gala, one of the most coveted events of the season. it was the showcasing and peacocking of sheer and utter wealth, as the drivers got to pull up to in their luxury vehicles, their keys handed off to the valets. every individual was dressed head to toe in designer clothing from nearly every brand possible, from christian dior to saint laurent.

you lost track of the amount of rolex watches, cartier jewelry, and hermès bags you noticed throughout the course of the evening.

the main event wrapped up hours ago, leaving the rest of the night for the drivers, crew members, mechanics, engineers, executives, and team principals to mingle and dance. and well, consume copious amounts of alcohol.

and well, perhaps do a few lines in the restroom. or light a joint outside. maybe even pop a few pills.

with the exuberant amounts of cash involved with events like this, there were surely some illicit affairs. ones that the fia ignored, simply turning their heads.

if they didn't see it, it didn't happen.

after all, you were in monaco. it was like las vegas in a way.

what happened in monaco, stayed in monaco.

and here max verstappen was, three-time world champion, standing before you, so drunk he could barely walk, begging for you to come join him on the dance floor.

too bad your phone was almost dead.

this would have been a prime opportunity to record what was unfolding before you. it would have fed the max girlies all over instagram and tik tok for months.

glancing over max's shoulder, you pick out lando, oscar, charles, and carlos. they were apart of the large formation, jumping up and down, barreling into one another. alexandra, rebecca, and lily linger around the group, their gowns swishing as they laugh, their cheeks dusted with a bubblegum pink glow.

a drunken mosh pit with a bunch of sweaty men? no thank you.

but gossiping with the girls? that was more your speed.

"my dad would have a stroke if he caught me with you guys," you simply shrug, sipping on your wine, "and what if something happened to my dress? we have to return this, you know."

"ugh," the dutch driver groans, "you're no fun."

"hallo, max," a new voice cuts in, thick with an accent you can't quite place your finger on, "congratulations on your accomplishment this year!"

shifting in your chair is none other than torger christian wolff, better known as toto wolff, team prinicipal of mercedes.

your heart skips a beat as your eyes drink in the sight of him, the way his crisp tuxedo fit him effortlessly. his dark brunette hair was messy, more than likely from the events of the evening. his bowtie was untied, hanging loosely around his neck. the first few buttons of the snowy white dress shirt were undone, exposing his skin.

fuck, was he a gorgeous man.

with sharp cheekbones, a chiseled jawline, and wide, beautiful coffee brown eyes, he knew that he was attractive, his aura brimmed with nothing but sexiness and dominance.

his hands land on the chair beside you, pulling it out as max rambles, the words drowning out in your ears.

you were more focused on his stature as he sits to your right, his thighs spread in the chair, a hand running through his hair.

"is there a reason why i haven't seen you on the dance floor?"

due to the excessive volume of the music, his mouth hovers by your ear. a shiver runs down your spine as his eyes lock with yours, lips forming a radiant smile, flashing his perfect pearlescent teeth.

"cat got your tongue? or are you just as intoxicated as maxie boy over there?"

"neither," you counter, straightening in your chair, "just not really interested, that's all."

"did daddy not give his precious diamond any dance lessons growing up?"

your father was none other than christian horner, team principal of red bull racing, sworn enemy of toto wolff.

quickly, your eyes scan your surroundings, in an attempt to pick out your father among the throng of people. to your dismay, you cannot find him.

which, in this case, could be a good thing.

if he saw toto speaking to you? oh fuck. it would be game over. you'd probably be grounded at your big age of twenty-four years old. could parents even do that when you were an adult?

you didn't really want to find out.

yet, you couldn't turn down a few moments with the team principal.

after all, this was a once in a lifetime opportunity.

why not seize it?

for most of your life, you obeyed every single one of your father's wishes. you maintained your distance from the red bull drivers, careful not to get too close. you stayed out of the spotlight, ensuring that no negative publicity ever came his way. as much as you yearned to get to know members of the mercedes team or crew, you shied away, maintaining the promise that you would never befriend a rival.

so, for this one night, you could be a little selfish.

just this once.

even if it involved your father's biggest foe. the bane of his existence. the man he spoked about so bitterly for years on end.

"i was offered dance lessons, actually," your voice is melodic, like an angel's from the heavens above, "i turned them down. opted for horseback riding instead."

"so you know how to ride?" the team principal runs a tongue along his lower lip, his brow slightly raised, "well, i have an offer for you. one dance with me, and then later you can show me how well you can ride."

"and what am i going to be riding?" you inquire, folding your arms across your chest.

the corners of his lips curl into a devious smirk, an emotion glinting within the mocha depths as he leans in, "my cock."

heat flourishes into your cheeks, seeping all throughout your body. as your mind scrambles, struggling to formulate some sort of witty response, the team principal nods, "not expecting that, were you? i like seeing you like this, all flustered. it's cute."

"y-you're ridiculous," you manage to sputter out, hands instinctively shielding your face.

"not as ridiculous as any of those fools," his head motions towards the group of rambunctious drivers, "tell me, why aren't you with any of them? i'm sure maxie boy would love to take you on a date. lando too."

"just not interested," you shrug, regaining your confidence a tad, "don't get me wrong, they've asked. but i've always just turned them down."

toto cocks his head, his voice laced with a tease, "why? scared daddy is going to ground you for dating a driver?"

"i just rather wouldn't be involved with anyone of them romantically," you wave a hand, "it'd be too awkward if things didn't end up working out. could you imagine having to spend so much time at the paddock with someone who your dad could fire at any given moment? it'd be like walking on eggshells. i'd feel bad for any poor soul who wants to court me. they'd constantly be seeking my father's approval, on and off the track."

"well it's a good thing that i already know where i stand," toto shoots you a wink, your heart thudding against your rib-cage as he offers you his hand, "come on, just one dance. that's all i ask of you, gorgeous girl. one dance and then you can come right back over here, spending the rest of your night sulking in the corner."

"i haven't been sulking," you snort, accepting the gesture, "i've just been bored."

"how about you accept the other half of my offer then?" his accent is prominent, lingering in every word, "i've just been flirting, you don't really have to ride me. unless you know, you want to-"

"are you forgetting that we're in a very public space?" you hiss, elbow interlocked with his as you make your way to the dance floor, "people can probably hear you."

"good thing we're all drunk," he responds, the casual delivery sending you spiraling, "here, place your hand on my shoulder. i'll take this hand. the other will go on your waist."

as you follow his lead, you can't help but feel the pairs of eyes fixate on the two of you, murmurs rising above the music. yet, toto's focus is honed in on you, and only you.

"don't worry about them," he takes a step forward, your feet following in suit, "they're probably just envious that i'm with the most coveted woman in all of formula one."

"you don't mean that."

"oh schatzi," a chuckle rumbles in his chest, flowing from his lips, "do you not hear the things they say about you among the paddocks?"

"enlighten me then," your heart swells as his thumb tenderly kneads into your waist, fingers interlocking with yours.

his mouth is merely centimeters away from yours now, dimples apparent as his eyes glitter like the chandeliers above, "there's whispers that you are the most breathtaking woman in the world. the drivers talk about you all of the time, debating who would look the best by your side. you're a hot commodity. a prize to be won."

"people say those things about me?"

"would i ever lie to you?" toto arched a brow, "i have no reason to."

"that is true."

there's a twinge of resentment that bubbles up in your stomach as the song ends. oh how this moment ended too soon.

way too soon.

"still no sign of your father," toto's voice is hushed, barely audible over the music, "you think i could have you for just one more song? after that, i promise i'll leave you be."

"i think so," you feel a smile form the moment he pulls you in closer, the space between you crumbling away, "careful, mr. wolff. you need to maintain some sort of distance between us, remember?"

he shakes his head, fingers squeezing your waist, "right now, i could give any fucks what your father would think. he's lucky that i have some sort of self-control."

"and why is that?" you press, blood roaring in your ears as his head lowers, situated by your ear.

"because it is taking everything within me to keep myself from getting on my knees right this instant and lifting up that gown of yours."

[mondaymelon]

Hihi!!! Saw your requests are open and maybe…. Just some cuddling hc or drabbles 🙏

I’m touch starved obviously, but it would be nice with kaeya, diluc, Alhaitham, and Ayato ?

My pookies, they need a hug fr 😔

₊˚ෆ "𝐈𝐓'𝐒 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐌." | kaeya, diluc, alhaitham, ayato, kazuha x gn!reader

not very familiar with writing this kinda stuff so added a little bit of variation for each one!! thank you for the request nonnie !!!

[ touch starved genshin men are so... chef's kiss... ]

Kaeya has been growing busier recently.

With the return of several reconnaissance missions, all sorts of paperwork have been shoved onto the poor man, and he’s spent every free hour away from his desk unwinding at Angels Share, where instead of getting pestered, he’s pestering any person close enough to hear his words. 

“I miss them…” He mumbled to no one in particular, swirling the deep reds of the wine in his glass, pressing his cheek against the wooden counter. His voice denied his dubious sobriety, and his hazy gaze certainly wasn’t helping his case.

The bartender just sighed, clearly fed up with Kaeya’s drunk antics, and turned to the crestfallen man while clearing away the bottles he’s downed in the past two hours. “Your lover? Why not just go see them?”

“...” Silence was the only answer from the male as his mouth dropped slightly ajar, his eye sparkling with realization. That’s right, why couldn’t he? Ignoring the jarring fact that it was well past a reasonable bedtime, he slammed his cup down on the table, before stumbling out the door. The path to your place was well-trodden and familiar, winding along the perimeter of Mondstadt’s walls and a cozy place to all. Kaeya could’ve sworn all he did was blink once or twice, yet he had already found himself with his hand raised, knocking on the wood of your door. There was quiet, then the soft steps of your sleepy footsteps. The door creaked open, and he practically flung himself at your pajama-wearing form, engulfing you in an embrace as he buried his head into the crook of your neck.

“K-Kaeya?” Your body swayed from the sudden weight, and you hesitantly returned the gesture, wrappping your arms around his lower torso. He mumbled into your skin, unintelligible sounds that just made your ears burn. “Hey, you reek of alcohol, just where have you-”

“Ugh, you’re too loud.” His voice was low, breathy, and he slowly walked into your house, closing the door behind him. “I just wanted to see you. Cuddles please, love?” He’s drunk, it’s clear from the red flush dusted across the cheeks and the way he stares, practically mesmerized by the sight of you.

You couldn’t even form a coherent thought, let alone an argument. With a sigh, you dragged his limp self to the bedroom, covering him in blankets and pillows before cuddling up next to him. “Happy?”

“No, I asked for cuddles. C’mere.” And just like that, you’re trapped in his sturdy arms, and he let out a content exhale as he snuggled himself into your form. 

“Warm. Can’t we just stay like this for tonight, love?” ₊˚ෆ

Diluc always came home late.

It’s no surprise that Mondstadt’s everyday occurrences and trifles kept him away from where he longs to be the most, and the fact that he’s secretly Mondstadt’s Darknight Hero wasn't exactly aiding him in this predicament. He let out a long sigh, rearranging the papers on his desk, and ignored the ink splatters that had gotten on his sleeves. His red eyes scanned the world past the large windows, the sun overhead shining down on the grape fields below. In just a few months, harvest season would arrive, and then the whole estate would be bustling with activity. Just thinking about it made his head hurt.

A walk would do him some good. As work-centered of a person he was, it wouldn’t do him any well to keep himself glued at his desk for countless archon-forsaken hours on end. He stepped out into the hallway, only to pause in his place as he spotted you, glancing around in confusion with a wicker basket dangling from your hold. All questions flew out of his head as he approached you from behind, pulling you into a back hug. “Love, what are you doing here?”

“Diluc!” You perked up as soon as you felt his touch, giving his red hair a light ruffle. He leaned into your touch with a soft smile on his lips. “It’s lunchtime, isn’t it? The maids told me you’ve been cooped up in your room all day, so I figured I’d bring a little something…” You held your picnic basket a little higher so that he could see, face growing red as he remained silent. “H-Have you already eaten…? Sorry, I’ll-”

“No, don’t.” He reluctantly let go of you, but took your hand instead, gently guiding you to the drawing room, where a long couch has been fixed next to the wall. He looped his arm around the basket and placed it on the table, then directed his full attention onto you. “But can it wait?”

You’re not used to him requesting things, and your eyes widened. “S-Sure, but what for?”

“So I can do this.” Suddenly, your back was against the couch, and Diluc was on top of you, his arms planted on either side of your form and effectively capturing you with his own body. He pressed a kiss to your forehead, before leaning his head against your chest, letting out a breath of contentment as he fluttered his eyes shut. Your quickening heartbeat pulsed in his ear. “Do… Do what you did earlier. That… playing with my hair. Please.”

Who were you to refuse? You relented to his efforts and ran a hand through his crimson locks, letting a smile grace your lips at his sudden childishness. “You tired?”

He hummed in response. “Mhm.” Your touch was ever so gentle, and he yearned for it with a passion. Slowly, he reached for the hand on his head and held it, kissing the back of it delicately, as if you were made from porcelain.

“Thank you, love.” ₊˚ෆ

Alhaitham’s head is always stuck inside a book, that is no understatement.

And now was no different. Even with his duties relieved, it being a weekend, and despite the fact that he’s literally sitting right next to you on the couch, his nose is still buried in his novels, eyes scanning page after page. Yes, you could understand his love for reading, but did it really surpass his love for you? Call it childish, but it had been a long week, and you wanted nothing more than to snuggle into Alhaitham’s arms and listen to his half-hearted complaints. You pouted at the ashen-haired male, who hadn’t even looked up for the past two hours. This had to be a new form of torture.

“Haitham.”

“Mhm?” You could feel your frown deepen as he just hummed a response, not even bothering to look up. In situations like these, isn’t it better to be upfront?

“...Can we cuddle?” Alhaitham’s eyes widened the slightest margin, his multicolored gaze finally, finally shifting upwards to meet yours. His stare flickers as he spots the small pout fixed on your lips, and his own formed a smile.

“Needy, are we?” He said it with a dash of sarcasm, yet set the book away all the while. Uncrossing his toned arms, he glanced up at you with a brow raised. “Why don’t you say please?”

You huffed. Of course, he had to be like this, but whatever irritation you might’ve had was more or less swept away as you opened your mouth to speak once more. “Please?”

And just like that, you’re wrapped tightly in his arms, the side of your face pressed into his chest where you could hear the dull, just slightly faster than usual beat. His hand snaked its way behind your head, and he softly toyed with your strands as he buried his own face into your neck. Alhaitham’s skin was slightly cool to the touch, yet his warmth spread across every inch of you, and all of a sudden, it was hard to breathe with how much overtime your heart was putting in. You moved to speak, but your voice was completely dead, and when you tried to shift your position, Alhaitham’s firm hold on you kept you locked in place.

It’s not like you had any complaints. Even from this unflattering angle, you’re able to admire how long the archons spent crafting a man like Alhaitham, with his sharp jawline and fair skin, and gorgeous, marble eyes that’s colors blended like a painting.

“What, like what you see?” Alhaitham couldn’t even act exasperated, and the smile that’s reserved only for you was one filled with amusement.

“And if I do?” You could feel the flush on your face.

“Admire me all you want, since I’ll be doing the exact same to you.” ₊˚ෆ

Ayato is a man of many masks.

It’s something that’s needed for the life he leads. A situation that he’s been delved deep into ever since his birth. You certainly don’t blame him for it, it’d be impossible to. That, and that facade absolutely collapses whenever the two of you are alone together. His usual business politeness and mask of indifference simply cease to exist, and you become one of the only people who can see the man as he is, rather than just a political figure that you’ll shake hands with to maintain appearance. Instead, it’s the smooth-tongued and cheeky man who found you when you were at your life’s low, took your hand with a smile, and brought you back to the light. You had fallen for him, and fallen hard. To think that you were his lover now seemed like a delusion that your brain had crafted, but it was true, and it was found in small moments like these.

After a rather taxing meeting with the Inazuman officials, who were busy pressing for marriage between the Kamisato clan and another, you found him snuggled into your arms when you woke up in the morning. When he had joined you in your bed, you had no idea, but you admired the way his violet eyes were shut and how his long, dark lashes curled. You marveled at how ethereal the man was, the beauty mark that graces the skin just below his lips, and his long, silky tufts of light blues and indigos. “Pretty…” Your voice was barely a whisper, so as to not wake the sleeping male, but you already know your eyes are sparkling. “Archons, isn’t it unfair that you’ve given him all the beauty you could’ve given?”

You shake your heads at your odd thoughts, lightly touching his head, in awe at the softness of his hair, and his hazy eyes slowly fluttered open with remaining ebbs of morning grogginess. “Ah, you’re awake?”

Ayato merely smiled, pulling you closer and pressing into your form. “No,” he sounded pleased with himself, too pleased with himself. You narrowed your eyes in suspicion. “I’ve been awake all this time. Seems like you say some embarrassing things about me while I slumber?”

Silence. Your eyes are round, and your mouth has fallen slack as you stare in utter shock at the audacity of your lover before you. “Y-You-”

“Next time, don’t be too shy to say it to my face, alright?” ₊˚ෆ

(a/n) omg its finished hooray hooray !! first ever req on the main so jodafjlfjlksd dies are the characters ooc theyre ooc okay im tired lets honk mimim

-> teehee what if yall left a message on my christmas tree 😶😶😶

໒꒱ || ᴛᴀɢʟɪꜱᴛ (open! send an ask or a comment ♡) : @manager-of-the-pudding-bank, @iamdedinside, @ilyuu, @achlysis, @swivy123, @scara-is-my-wife, @solxima

[lanadelreyscokewhor3]

TILL THE WORLD ENDS- L. HOWLETT

Pairing: Mob Associate! Logan x Mob Associate! Fem! Reader

Word Count: 1.3k

Summary: Logan has always seemed to have his eye on you, more than any other of his fellow co-workers. The sulking man was no more than a brooding mystery to you-until he steals you away from some men who get a little too close for comfort. Mission... failed?

Warnings: Logan being possesive, a little controlling, pet names, swearing, mention of drugs, drinking and sexual implications, teasing etc

Authors Note: hi! is this going to be a series? no idea! i think it will be... i love the idea of logan and y/n being in a little mob, crime ganster thingy together. this is enemies to lovers ;) also sorry for the spam of content, i just really like writing for logan hehe

"i can't take it, take it, take no more- never felt like, felt like this before, come on get me on the floor- DJ what you, what you waiting for?"- till the world ends, britney spears

“You’re hurting me.” you whined as Logan gripped your arm tightly, tugging you down a darkened hallway, the bright lights and loud, thumping music seeming to fade, as if someone had turned the volume all the way down.

His grip slightly loosened , but his pace never faltered. He glared at anyone who looked in your general direction, pulling you back into a quiet alcove.

“Why’d you do that?” you frowned, staring up into his darkened eyes that surveyed your body, as if he were looking for marks or slashes.

This mission wasn't supposed to be dangerous.

The men you worked with, and against were- yes, rather dangerous. But tonight? Your mission was simply to distract.

Be ‘eye- candy’ as Charles had told you, before the mob had split from the dingy office, the rest of the men leaving as quick as they arrived- except for Logan. You noticed he lingered by the doorway just a little longer, remaining in the shadows while you talked to Charles.

Logan, Scott and Hank would keep an eye out for Magneto, slipping into his office to grab the documents Charles needed to take down his whole operation, and get the money back that belonged to him.

You were supposed to distract any member of his crew.

Simple enough.

You had plenty of club experience, and the  fact you were still young and fun made dancing that much more easier. A sharp whistle escaped Hank's lips as you stepped out of your bunker room, eyes sweeping you down to take in your little mini skirt and black thigh high boots.

Logan, on the other hand- looked like he was going to start fuming.

“What? I’m supposed to distract.” you snickered, strutting past the group of men that followed every wish of your hips as you walked to the pack of motorcycles that waited for you.

Logan still hadn't let go of you just yet.

His eyes had been on you all night, watching you like a hawk from the balcony of the nightclub. It made your stomach twist in knots of confusion. Why he seemed to hunt you down- you didn't know.

He was quiet, stony and cold. He rarely showed emotion (except towards you, Hank had insisted, even though you didn't see it). And tonight it felt like the stakes had been raised.

You had eyed down a group of Magnetos men, a cat on the prowl as you drew them in with your eyes and your hips that swayed to the beat of the music. You had found yourself leaned against the chest of a man, as he grinded on you, holding your hips tightly.

White powder had found itself dusted around his nostrils, something herby smoking from the other man as they talked to you in low voices.

Trying to tempt you.

But before they could get very far, a firm grip had grabbed you, tugging you off the dance floor.

“Because they were getting too handsy.”

“Why do you care? It was my job. And you could’ve just fucked up the whole mission, thinking with your dick and not your brain.” you snorted, slightly tipsy from the shots you couldn't avoid taking under Magentos mens watch.

To them, you were just an innocent, ditsy party girl who fed off any attention a man would give you.

“We’ve got the documents, and we’re leaving.” he growled. You tried not to stare at his lips as he wet them, tongue darting out slightly.

“But the party’s just getting started! Don’t you wanna dance Mr. Howlett?” you asked teasingly, pushing him just that much further.

“Charles would kill you, and then me.”

“What, so now a girl can't dance? I did my job and I did it well. You’re not my boyfriend and neither is he, so why do you two give a shit?” you snapped, tugging your arm back out of his warm grasp.

He rolled his eyes, head turning to stare down a stranger that was just trying to go to the restroom.

“I give a shit if my enemy's men have their hands on you kid.”

“I’m not a kid.”

He looked you up and down, eyes lingering a little too long on your cleavage that popped out of your corset top, his eyes seeming to darken.

“No shit. So quit acting like one, and let's go. I'm supposed to look after you.”

“Says who?”

“Says Charles.”

You snorted, crossing your arms. “I don't need to be babied by him.”

“Well he's our boss, so I do what he says. We’re leaving. Hank and Scott are already almost back to the shop.”

You pursed your lips, clenching your thighs at the sight of him. He towered over you, annoyance and anger rolling off him in waves. You liked this whole pushing his buttons thing. You got a little thrill out of seeing how far you could go.

“Well I want to go dance. There are men over there, just begging to get a taste of me. I'm sure you could join them.” you raised an eyebrow, slipping around him to head back down the hallway towards the deep purple and blue lights.

“Don't you dare.” he growled.

“Awh Howlett are you jealous? How cute. Good thing you’re not the boss of me.”

You turned your back on him for no more than a split second, barely getting a stride in before his hand gripped your middle, spinning you around and flipping you up over his shoulder.

“THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU-” you scrambled, getting nowhere as he gripped your thighs harshly, turning on his heel to walk to the back exit. Whistling to himself, he shook his head at an alarmed passerby.

“She's drunk, I’m taking her home. Kids these days.” he smirked, and you struggled again to escape his grasp- failing.

The cool air hit your skin like a slap in the face as he shoved open the back door- the shot no longer protecting you from the chillness of the night. It didn't help that you barely had anything to cover you- and you haven't drank enough to be too drunk to care.

“Fine, if you're gonna be that way- I’ll just drive myself.” you snarled as you shimmed from his grasp- as he finally loosened his grip enough for you to escape. You headed towards your bike that stood propped up in the alleyway. You fought a shiver as a rush of wind brushed over you again, folding your arms tighter across yourself to try and barricade your exposed skin.

“Don't be stupid.” he stated, arm reached out- leather jacket in hand.

You turned, to simply stare at him, and the offering he gave you. You barely knew this man. Yet here he was, bossing you around and giving you his jacket as if he was yours.

It made your head hurt, to try and attempt his logic. “I can drive myself.”

“I'm sure you can. But youre not. We’ll get it in the morning.” he nodded to your bike, leather jacket still in hand.

He refused to let you win, and you were too tired to fight with him any longer. Plus, Charles was probably wondering where the fuck you two were, considering Hank and Scott would be back already, missing half the crew.

You took a breath, hesitantly reaching for the jacket. It was large, much too big for you, but it was warm as you slipped it on. It smelled like pine, smoke and whisky, and you couldn't help but breathe in the scent of well… him.

“I’m driving myself.”

“Do you really want me to pick you up again? You gonna stop acting like a lil brat?” he huffed, clearly growing tired of your antics. As if he hadn't been tired of them all night.

Oh well.

“Who do you think you are?!”

He sighed, hanging his head in disappointment. “Get on the back of the bike, kid. Dont fuck around, or you’ll find out.”

“Was that a threat, Mr.Howlett?”

He stared at you, large muscles flexing as he tried to hold himself back- from what, you didn't know.

His fuse was short. You liked to burn it out.

And you planned to do it the rest of the way home.

[sassenach77yle]

7x12 “Carnal Knowledge”

His own voice was husky now, and when I turned back to him, I saw that tears stood in his eyes. With an incoherent noise, I flung myself into his arms and clung to him, making foolish hiccuping sobs. He held me tight, his breath warm on the top of my head, and when I stopped at last, he put me away a little and cupped my face in his hands.

“I have loved ye since I saw you, Sassenach,”

he said very quietly, holding my eyes with his own, bloodshot and lined with tiredness but very blue.

“I will love ye forever.

It doesna matter if ye sleep with the whole English army—well, no,” he corrected himself, “it would matter, but it wouldna stop me loving you.” “I didn’t think it would.” I sniffed and he pulled a handkerchief from his sleeve and handed it to me. It was worn white cambric and had the initial “P” embroidered awkwardly in one corner in blue thread. I couldn’t imagine where he’d got such a thing but didn’t bother asking, under the circumstances. The bench was not very large, and his knee was within an inch or two of mine. He didn’t touch me again, though, and my heart rate was beginning to speed up noticeably. He meant it, about loving me, but that didn’t mean the next while was going to be pleasant. “It was my impression that he told me because he was sure that you would tell me,” he said carefully. “So I would have,” I said promptly, wiping my nose. “Though I might possibly have waited ’til you’d got home, had a bath, and been fed supper. If there’s one thing I know about men, it’s that you don’t break things like this to them on an empty stomach. When did you last eat?”

“This morning. Sausages. Dinna be changing the subject.” His voice was level, but there was a good deal of feeling bubbling under it; he might as well have been a pan of simmering milk. One extra degree of heat and there’d be an eruption and scorched milk all over the stove. “I understand, but I want—I need—to know what happened.” “You understand?” I echoed, sounding surprised even to my own ears. I hoped he did understand, but his manner was more than a little at odds with his words. My hands were no longer cold; they were starting to sweat, and I gripped the skirt over my knees, heedless of mud stains. “Well, I dinna like it,” he said, not quite between clenched teeth. “But I understand it.” “You do?” “I do,” he said, eyeing me. “Ye both thought I was dead. And I ken what ye’re like when you’re drunk, Sassenach.” I slapped him, so fast and so hard that he hadn’t time to duck and lurched back from the impact. “You—you—” I said, unable to articulate anything bad enough to suit the violence of my feelings. “How bloody dare you!” He touched his cheek gingerly. His mouth was twitching. “I . . . uh . . . didna quite mean that the way it sounded, Sassenach,” he said. “Besides, am I no the aggrieved party here?” “No, you bloody aren’t!” I snapped. “You go off and get—get drowned, and leave me all alone in the m-midst of spies and s-soldiers and with children—you and Fergus both, you bastards! Leave me and Marsali to-to—” I was so choked with emotion that I couldn’t go on. I was damned if I’d cry, though, damned if I’d cry any more in front of him. He reached out carefully and took my hand again. I let him, and let him draw me closer, close enough to see the faint dusting of his beard stubble, to smell the road dust and dried sweat in his clothes, to feel the radiant heat from his body. I sat quivering, making small huffing sounds in lieu of speech. He ignored this, spreading my fingers out between his own, gently stroking the palm of my hand with a large, callused thumb. “I didna mean to imply that I think ye a drunkard, Sassenach,” he said, making an obvious effort to be conciliatory. “It’s only that ye think wi’ your body, Claire; ye always have.” With a tremendous effort of my own, I found words. “So I’m a—a—what are you calling me now? A loose woman? A trollop? A strumpet? And you think that’s better than calling me a drunkard?!?” He gave a small snort of what might have been amusement. I yanked at my hand, but he wouldn’t let go. “I said what I meant, Sassenach,” he said, tightening his grip on my hand, and augmenting it with another hand on my forearm, preventing me from rising. “Ye think wi’ your body. It’s what makes ye a surgeon, no?” “I—oh.” Overcoming my dudgeon momentarily, I was obliged to admit that there was something in this observation. “Possibly,” I said stiffly, looking away from him. “But I don’t think that’s what you meant.” “Not entirely, no.” There was a very slight edge to his voice again, but I wouldn’t meet his eyes. “Listen to me.” I sat stubbornly silent for a moment, but he simply held on, and I knew that he was more stubborn by nature than I could be if I worked at it for a hundred years. I was going to hear what he had to say—and I was going to tell him what he wanted to hear—whether I liked it or not. “I’m listening,” I said. He drew breath and relaxed a little but didn’t lessen his grip. “I’ve taken ye to bed a thousand times at least, Sassenach,” he said mildly. “Did ye think I wasna paying attention?” “Two or three thousand at least,” I said, in the interests of strict accuracy, staring at the digging knife I’d dropped on the ground. “And no.” “Well, then. I ken what ye’re like in bed. And I see—all too well,” he added, his mouth compressing momentarily, “—how this likely was.”

“No, you bloody don’t,” I said warmly. He made another Scottish noise, this one indicating hesitation. “I do,” he said, but carefully. “When I lost ye, after Culloden—I kent ye weren’t dead, but that made it all the worse, if ye ask me . . . eh?” I had made a noise of my own but gestured briefly at him to go on. “I told ye about Mary MacNab, aye? How she came to me, in the cave?” “Several years after the fact,” I said rather coldly. “But, yes, you did get round to it eventually.” I gave him a look. “I certainly didn’t blame you for that—and I didn’t ask you for the gory details, either.” “No, ye didn’t,” he admitted. He rubbed the bridge of his nose with a knuckle. “Maybe ye weren’t jealous. I am.” He hesitated. “I’d tell ye, though—how it was—if ye wanted to know.” I looked at him, biting my lip dubiously. Did I want to know? If I didn’t—and I wasn’t at all sure whether I did or not—would he take that as evidence that I didn’t care? And I was quite conscious of that brief “I am.” I took a deep breath, accepting the implied bargain. “Tell me,” I said. “How it was.” Now he did look away, and I saw his throat move as he swallowed. “It . . . was tender,” he said quietly, after a moment. “Sad.” “Sad,” I echoed. “How?” He didn’t look up but kept his eyes fixed on the flowers, following the movements of a big black bumblebee among the furled blooms. “Both of us mourning things that were lost,” he said slowly, brows drawn down in thought. “She said she meant to keep ye alive for me, to let me . . . to let me imagine it was you, I suppose she meant.” “Didn’t work quite that way?” “No.” He looked up then, straight on, and his eyes went through me like a rapier through a scarecrow. “There couldna be anyone like you.” It wasn’t said with an air of compliment, more one of flat finality—or, even, of resentment. I lifted a shoulder briefly. There wasn’t much response I could make. “And?” He sighed and looked back at his knotted hands. He was squeezing the fingers of his narrowed right hand with his left, as though to remind himself of the missing finger. “It was quiet,” he said to his thumb. “We didna talk, really, not once we’d . . . begun.” He closed his eyes, and I wondered, with a small twinge of curiosity, just what he saw. I was surprised to realize that curiosity was all I felt—with, perhaps, pity for them. I’d seen the cave in which they’d made love, a cold granite tomb, and I knew how desperate the state of things had been in the Highlands then. Just the promise of a little human warmth . . . “Both of us mourning things that were lost,” he’d said. “It was just the once. It didna last very long; I—it had been a long time,” he said, and a faint flush showed across his cheekbones. “But . . . I needed it, verra much. She held me after, and . . . I needed that more. I fell asleep in her arms; she was gone when I woke. But I carried the warmth of her with me. For a long time,” he said very softly. That gave me a quite unexpected stab of jealousy, and I straightened a little, fighting it back with clenched hands. He sensed it and turned his head toward me. He’d felt that flame ignite—and had one to match it. “And you?” he said, giving me a hard, direct look. “It wasn’t tender,” I said with an edge. “And it wasn’t sad. It should have been. When he came into my room and said he wouldn’t mourn you alone, and we talked, then I got up and went to him, expecting—if I had so much as an expectation; I don’t think I had any conscious thoughts. . . .” “No?” He matched my edge with his own. “Blind drunk, were ye?” “Yes, I bloody was, and so was he.” I knew what he was thinking; he wasn’t making any effort to hide it, and I had a sudden, vivid recollection of sitting with him in the corner of

a tavern in Cross Creek, his taking my face suddenly between his hands and kissing me, and the warm sweetness of wine passing from his mouth to mine. I sprang to my feet and slapped my hand on the bench. “Yes, I bloody was!” I said again, furious. “I was drunk every damned day since I heard you were dead.” He drew a deep, deep breath, and I saw his eyes fix on his hands, clenched on his knees. He let it out very slowly. “And what did he give ye, then?” “Something to hit,” I said. “At least to begin with.” He looked up at me, startled. “Ye hit him?” “No, I hit you,” I snapped. My fist had curled, without my realization, clenched against my thigh. I remembered that first blow, a blind, frenzied punch into unwary flesh, all the force of my grief behind it. The flex of recoil that took away the sensation of warmth for an instant, brought it back with a smash that flung me onto the dressing table, borne down by a man’s weight, his grip tight on my wrists, and me screaming in fury. I didn’t remember the specifics of what came next—or, rather, I recalled certain things very vividly but had no idea of the order in which they happened. “It was a blur,” people say. What they really mean is the impossibility of anyone truly entering such an experience from outside, the futility of explanation. “Mary MacNab,” I said abruptly. “She gave you . . . tenderness, you said. There should be a word for what this was, what John gave me, but I haven’t thought of it yet.” I needed a word that might convey, encapsulate. “Violence,” I said. “That was part of it.” Jamie stiffened and gave me a narrow look. I knew what he was thinking and shook my head. “Not that. I was numb—deliberately numb, because I couldn’t bear to feel. He could; he had more courage than I did. And he made me feel it, too. That’s why I hit him.” I’d been numb, and John had ripped off the dressing of denial, the wrappings of the small daily necessities that kept me upright and functioning; his physical presence had torn away the bandages of grief and showed what lay below: myself, bloody and unhealed. I felt the air thick in my throat, damp and hot and itching on my skin. And finally I found the word. “Triage,” I said abruptly. “Under the numbness, I was . . . raw. Bloody. Skinned. You do triage, you . . . stop the bleeding first. You stop it. You stop it, or the patient dies. He stopped it.” He’d stopped it by slapping his own grief, his own fury, over the welling blood of mine. Two wounds, pressed together, blood still flowing freely—but no longer lost and draining, flowing instead into another body, and the other’s blood into mine, hot, searing, not welcome—but life. Jamie said something under his breath in Gaelic. I didn’t catch most of the words. He sat with his head bent, elbows on his knees and head in his hands, and breathed audibly. After a moment, I sat back down beside him and breathed, too. The cicadas grew louder, an urgent buzz that drowned out the rush of water and the rustling of leaves, humming in my bones.

24 WELCOME COOLNESS IN THE HEAT, COMFORT IN THE MIDST OF WOE ~ Written in My Own Heart's Blood

[b0xerdancer-writes]

A Second Chance

Dark!Rhysand x Reader

Summary: Rhysand regretted many things he thought. He regretted telling Tamlin about his mother and sister, he regretted everything he had to do under the mountain, regretted some of his actions during the war with Hybern, he regretted having to treat Azriel the way he did with Elain, he regretted not making the ‘for life’ deal with Feyre, and most importantly he regretted not being able to save Feyre and their unborn child durings Feyre’s rough birth. But he would not regret her or the things he did for her.

Word Count: 7,139

Warnings: Murder, Dark!Rhys, Death, War, Grief, Therapy, Manipulation, not proofread we die like men.

Notes: Sorry this took so long, i took a small hiatus for life stuff going on! Hope you enjoy!

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Rhysand regretted many things he thought. He regretted telling Tamlin about his mother and sister, he regretted everything he had to do under the mountain, regretted some of his actions during the war with Hybern, he regretted having to treat Azriel the way he did with Elain, he regretted not making the ‘for life’ deal with Feyre, and most importantly he regretted not being able to save Feyre and their unborn child durings Feyre’s rough birth.

It has taken Rhys and the entire inner circle a long time to adjust to her not being around, Rhys even longer so. He had completely put off court duties and public appearances in the recent months, but after an intervention via Amren he finally dragged himself out of the estate and into the city of Velaris.

Amren had been fed up with Rhysand’s antics and had thrown him a card for a grief support group that had popped up after the war, she had declared that if he wouldn’t go for them that he should at least go for Feyre. So here he was, slinking through the streets of Velaris on his way to the damned widow support group.

It was hosted in a small cafe which explained the drinks and snacks provided, the tables had been cleared to one side of the cafe ans a circle of chairs sat in the center, coffee and pastries lined on the checkout counter, a few females and a few males were gathered in small circles. A female in a floured apron came out of the backroom carrying an assortment of pastries, flour in her hair and on her face as she balanced the overstuffed tray.

Rhys had been debating between the caramel coffee or the chocolate coffee, after all caramel was Feyres favorite but Chocolate was his, when she greeted him. “Oh! My lord! Its great to see you! Please pick whatever coffee you like. Feel free to mingle or feel free to simply take a seat and wait for the meeting to start.”

“Oh. Uh. Thank you.” He nodded grabbing the caramel labeled coffee. “You own this place?”

“Own and host.” She nodded.

“Oh.” He cleared his throat. “I’m sorry for your loss.”

She smiled back. “And I'm sorry for yours”

“To be honest, I’m not sure I’d be comfortable with either yet, I don’t know enough people to mingle and can’t sit and twiddle my thumbs.” Rhys shrugged.

“Well you might get covered in flour but you can help me back here.” She suggested.

“I don’t mind some flour, what do you need help with Darling?” The word felt foreign in his mouth but good. Like a step in the right direction.

“Uhhh, if you wanna help me carry the tray of cookies from back there it would be helpful.” She motioned to the doorway behind her with a small smile on her face.

“Gladly.” Rhysand nodded and followed her into the back.

When they returned back upfront, tray of cookies and pastries in hand, the final members of the support group were trickling into the small cafe. Chairs had been arranged into a circle, activities stationed off to one side of the room and stacks of grief management books at a table on the other. She dusted off her hands with her apron and snatched a tea from the counter of drinks and moved towards the group of fae circling around the ring of chairs. Some fae split from the central crowd and split up into smaller groups at the tables of activities and books, Rhysand weighed his options before joining the circular group in the center. Everyone found a seat, a few openings here or there as she had a policy for always having a few extra seats in case anyone found their way into the meetings. The fae gathered around him were from a vast array of characters, and it intrigued him to find all of these people sharing one common factor.

The female he had assisted with the trays earlier cleared her throat before standing and smoothing out her dress and apron, addressing the entirety of the small building. “I would like to welcome everyone to tonight's meeting, a special welcome to those who are just joining us for the first time.”

Her eyes darted to Rhysands figure as she introduced herself to the crowd for those new members, he noted he wasn't the only new one to this meeting: three or four others were new as well. “As many of you know, I lost my mate and daughter to the attor attack a few years back, I sought an outlet for my grief and in doing so found others who had lost their loved ones like myself. So I took to arranging this weekly gathering as a way to help myself and others cope with the loss of loved ones.”

She was a good soul, Rhys thought, every word she spoke conveyed truth and honesty, something in her welcomed him and calmed him. Her very presence calmed the anxious storm in his chest and Rhys welcomed the feeling that had long been absent from his chest. A chorus of replies and greetings echoed back to her, she extended her attention back to the room and offered them a chance to introduce themselves. He recognized none of them, all small shopkeepers and civilians from all over Velaris, all had lost someone close to them.

One girl who had moved up here from the Court of Nightmares had lost her father who was a darkbringer in the recent war. A female who reminded him of Nuala and Cerridwen had lost her brother to an attor. A young male who had lost his baby sister in the attack when a building had partially crushed him and he could do nothing as the toddler female was swept up by the creatures, their parents had long since passed, their mother in childbirth and their father a few months later due to grief.

Then came Rhysands turn to speak. All eyes turned to him, and he felt the prickling of his anxiety nipping at him. He smiled back at everyone sadly with a small wave. “Many of you know me as your High Lord, if you don’t know me by name my name Is Rhysand. I was informed by my closest friends I should attend this meeting as I’m sure all of you know I recently lost my mate, wife, and our High Lady. I lost her to the birth of our son, my heir who passed away as well due to the difficult birth. I lost them both.”

Sad smiles and apologies found his ears as the head female in front of him prompted him to sit again, taking the center of the circle. “I am so sorry you have had to learn the loss of a mate and child, my lord, I am sorry you all had to experience the losses you have but we can work together to get through the pain and grief. We are all here to support each other through this horrible pain. I know many may not want to openly speak about their pain so you are welcomed to partake in the other forms of support we have here.”

With her final comment everyone turned to their projects with a nod and some mumbled thanks. It was towards the end when they spoke about distractions and busying oneself to help cope, it had struck a chord in his brain; distractions could be handy for him he was sure but he couldn’t busy himself with court work or with his close family, he would feel too much of Feyre there. His thoughts drifted to things he could do to distract himself or busy himself, he had lost himself for so long in the thought he had barely noticed everyone beginning to rise and bid farewell to the sweet female who had so quickly accepted him into their small group despite the reason she lost her mate and child being his fault.

He was the last member to rise as she began to clean up the room, gathering the books and journals in her arms; she seemed lost in her own world until he approached her.

“Do you mind if I help with cleaning up?” He asked softly.

“Oh! Of course my lord!” She had chirped back, straining with the weight of the books in her arms.

“Here, let me carry those for you.” Rhysand had taken the books from her arms and hoisted them up against his chest.

She picked up the pens and pencils quickly, throwing them into a small bag. “Thank you my lord, just follow me with those please.”

He had followed behind her with a small smile on his face, she led him towards a small closet that had been filled with cabinets and shelves; she tucked the small box into one of the shelves and began taking small sections of books from his arms, tucking them on one of the many shelves.

He had helped her reset the entire cafe, sweep, wipe tables, and clean up the entire back of the cafe’s kitchen. The moon was high in the sky when she had finally waved him goodbye, the bell chiming above him as he opened the door to step out onto the cobblestone street. The roof of the estate he had gifted to Feyre could just be made out from where he stood outside of her cafe; He had practically abandoned the Estate, instead favoring it for the house at the top of the mountain. It had been awhile since he or anyone in the inner circle had stepped through the doors he considered, everyone had joined him back up at the house or in their own apartments across Velaris.

He had considered something she had said about the memory of the ones you lost, how the only way to cope was to face the memories and accept them. He had taken a deep breath before crossing the street and turning right at the corner where he would have turned left to head towards the steps. The road was quiet and he was a lone soul amidst a sea of grief as the wrought-iron fence that bordered the estate came into view. As if sensing its master the gates slowly creaked open, a picture of stars and swirls that mirrored the tattoos he and Feyre had shared. The fae lights of the estates flickered on as he walked up the small pathway to the grand front door, his breath caught in his throat as his hand made contact with the door handle. As if sensing his hesitation the door opened softly beckoning him to enter, every detail just in the entry hall had submerged him in the sense of Feyre; he felt like he was drowning as he turned out of the doorway and flitted back through the gates, both clicking closed behind him as he manifested his wings and took to the skies above Velaris.

+

Azriel was sitting at the island counter softly sipping on some chamomile when Rhysand had landed on the balcony. He nodded a greeting to the male, taking note of his disheveled appearance and tear stained cheeks. “How was the meeting?”

“I liked it, the host is a very sweet female. I’ll continue with attending.” Rhysand had answered matter of factly.

“She is incredibly sweet, I informed her of your possible attendance earlier this week. She tells everyone her mate was lost in the attor attack and he was but,” Azriel sighed. “He was one of my men, one of my spies.”

Rhysand poured himself a cup of tea from the lukewarm pot. “Sorry Az i know what it feels like when you lose one of your men.”

“It's my fault.” Azriel drew a breath in, “He was trying to get both of them to safety, had his daughter in his arms. I had called to him in a hurry to rejoin the fight. That split second he hesitated at my voice was what landed him in an attor’s grasp.she won't blame me for it as much as I have asked her to and apologized for it, she always says it is no one's fault but the Mother’s and fates. She's a strong female Rhys, I figured you could learn something from her to get you through this.”

Rhys nodded softly, sympathetic for his friend. “I did, even in just one night I did.”

Azriel had turned and raised a brow at him, Rhys just stared down into his cup and watched the steaming liquid swirl in it. “I went to the Estate after the meeting tonight.”

“Oh.” Azriel’s expression turned into one of shock.

“Yeah. She had said something early on in the meeting about only being able to cope with the memory of your lost one is by facing the memory of them. The estate is just down the road from her cafe, you can see the roof from her doorway.” Rhysand tilted his head and Azriel sucked in a breath.

“You went back to the estate?” Azriel whispered.

“I couldn't go inside, I stopped at the door.” Rhysand looked over to Azriel at his side.

Azriel’s eyes held a sad understanding in them as he nodded. “Still, I’m proud of you brother.”

“I think your friend will be a good help to me. I wouldn't have been able to do what I did tonight without her words, her understanding, and her gentleness with me.” Rhys offered Azriel the first genuine smile he’d had since Feyre’s passing.

Azriel offered a smile back and patted Rhys’s shoulder. “Have a good night brother. Love you.”

“Night Az. Love you too.” Rhys turned back to his glass as Azriel slipped from the kitchen and Rhys noted that Azriel had seemed to relax, his steps heavier than they had been for several weeks now.

Rhysand with a small smile downed the rest of the tea and slipped from the barstool, climbing up the steps of the hall and slipping into his bedroom. He had actually managed to get some decent sleep that night, he didn't awake in the middle of the night in a cold sweat and with a throbbing ache in the center of his chest.

+

The next few weeks seemed to fly by as Rhys continued to attend the support group; after each session he would walk to the estate, each time he would make it further and further into the house. On days when they had no sessions or on days, like today, when Rhys just found himself bored but without enough motivation to face the work in his study he would venture down to the streets of Velaris and into the small cafe; extending a hand under the pretense of ‘busying himself for a distraction’ and of course his sweet little shopkeep would accept him in with open arms.

This had become routine now, after several evenings spent baking and making drinks, the first night had set their friendship in motion and both were thankful for the other's steady presence in their lives. The first time Rhys had shown up to the small cafe early in hopes of helping her with setting up, only to find out the meeting had been canceled; she had attempted to inform him but with Azriel gone on a mission and his presence absent at the estate she had no way to inform him without climbing the thousands of steps, yet she gladly offered to let him help her with the evening rush and clean up.

Today had been rather slow, the bell above the door having not chimed for over an hour now, the two of them stood in the back while Rhysand told her stories of the Inner circle. She sat on the metal table, her feet swinging softly and Rhys leaned on his arms beside her; both of them were laughing till the front bell chime brought them out of their little bubble.

“One sec, let me take this order.” She smiled, putting her hand on his shoulder she pushed off the table and slipped through the door separating the kitchen from the front of the house.

Rhys smiled to himself as he heard her voice chime “What can I get for you today?”

The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end as he heard the slightest bit of confusion and fest in her voice through the door. “Oh, Eolan! What's brought you in today? The meeting was canceled, I thought I informed you earlier this week?”

Rhys could feel her anxiety and fear in her voice, it made him uneasy and nervous; he knocked softly on her mental shields offering her his concern. ‘Whats wrong?’

‘Eolan, the male who was at your first meeting who lost his little sister in the attor attack, he's here and he seems very angry and on edge, seems to be directed at me. I know nothing further.’ She had answered at his mental caress.

‘Let me know if you feel I need to step in, I’ll stay out of view back here.’ Rhys nodded to himself and pulled from her mind.

He stuck to the wall, and moved slowly towards the door; staying out of the way of the small window he listened in on the conversation just on the other side of the thin wood.

“Are you even listening to me!”

“Eolan, your concerns are warranted and I do hear what you’re saying-”

“No! You dont! How can you befriend him, let him come to our meetings! Knowing what he's done, knowing he has inadvertently caused all of our losses!”

“Eolan, I warn you now. He is still our High Lord. I offer my services to all of Velaris, High Lord included, now Eolan. If you have problems with how I run my business and who I call my friend then you may leave now.” Her voice was firm this time and Rhysand was proud of her.

“You don't get it!” Eolan had barked back.

“I do. But-”

“No. You really dont. You don't hear the talk after meetings, the anger everyone has at you for letting him in. Haven't you noticed less and less coming to the group?”

“It's none of my business why people do and don't come to the meetings I choose to host for the betterment of Velaris, just like how it's none of your business who I choose to associate myself with.” She had gotten snippy with him, clearly losing her patience and it made Rhys smile ever so slightly, plus he had to fight back a snicker at it lest he give his position away.

“Listen Here-” A bang and her yelp blurred Rhys’s vision as he slammed the door open.

He was greeted by Eolan pulling her halfway across the counter, his eyes flitted to Rhys for a split second as his anger turned to fear and he froze. It was easy, Rhys thought to himself, infiltrating his mind, that is; smooth and simple as his claws dug into the pathetic male that saw fit to threaten one of his friends, one of his females with ease.

He raked the talons along the male's mind with the intention of making him let her go, Eolan had begun to tremble as he released the smaller female from his grasp; Eolan found himself frozen in his position and Rhys stalked forward a few steps, his eyes narrowed and she turned to him with worry written on her face.

She took a few steps forward, her hand coming to rest in the center of his chest; pulling him from his anger and making him look down at her in concern. “You okay?”

“I'm fine Rhysand, though I'm sure he's not. You can let him go, I’m sure you've scared him enough to send him running with his tail between his legs.” She huffed looking over her shoulder with a glare towards the other male, her nose wrinkling ever so slightly that it made Rhys note the reaction with the faintest tilt of his lips.

“Plus he’s pissed himself in fear and now I have to clean his mess.” She grumbled distaste visible are her eyes narrowed on the trembling male.

“I'll have it dealt with, we can close the shop for the evening and go have dinner at the house.”Rhys extended the offer.

“I’d love to really but unlike you I can't drop whatever I'm doing, I run the cafe to make money if i close down for the rest of the evening i'll lose the profit.” She crossed her arms, looking up at him with one brow raised.

“You don't have to worry about that, you know? I can order enough food for the house to cover the lost profit if it matters that much.” Rhys countered and she sighed.

“We can have this argument at a later date, when not in front of guests. Seriously though Rhysand you can let him go I doubt he’ll be any further of a threat.” She waved it off watching as the male towering over her pouted like a scorned puppy.

“Fine, I was looking forward to misting him though.” Rhys pouted before turning a pointed glare to the male in his mental grasp.

She rolled her eyes moving around the males towards the doored off staircase that led upstairs to her apartment above, Rhys watched as she disappeared up the staircase until the door clicked close behind her again. His gaze fell back on the male, a darkness lingering there.

“You're lucky she has spare pity for you. Because I don’t. No civilian in my court will threaten another. Ill let you walk this time since you've already embarrassed yourself thoroughly, if this ever happens again though, I look forward to seeing you.” He narrowed his eyes, raking the talons along the malleable thing that was Eolan’s mind, just deep enough that that surface scratches would scar; the slightest everlasting reminder of Rhysand’s threat over the other male.

As soon as Rhys’ talons were out of the other male’s head Eolan took several steps back, eyes wide and his entire body trembling. “You- Your fucking crazy!”

Crazy he might be, but he had taken an interest in the female upstairs and however fucked it mightve been she had struck a chord in him so deeply that the ache of loosing Feyre had lessened. He had lost Feyre, had almost lost both of his brothers to Hybern and other forces on more than one occasion, had almost lost Mor, and had lost Amren for a time; he had almost lost everyone close to him on multiple occasions and was planning on not letting the same happen to her, no matter what he had to do. So if he seemed crazy so be it. If he had to dip into darker places of his own mind to protect her, so be it if she wasn't around to see.

“Well if I’m crazy, so fucking be it, im not letting her come to any harm but you however may for that insult.” Rhys growled, second guessing his choice and Eolan jumped trying to scramble out the front door.

Rhy sunk his talons back into the lesser male's mind, just enough to keep him quiet and still. With a dark grin Rhys stalked across the floor to the closed off stairway, he reached out for the iron door handle, turned to look at the frozen male and called up the stairs; the faint sound of a shower echoing into the empty cafe.

“Darling? How long till you are ready? I want to let everyone know when to expect us.” Rhys called out, holding eye contact with the male across the room from him.

Both males knew whatever her answer was, would be the deciding factor in Eolan’s fate.

“Mmmm,” she hummed, “Probably in about 15-20 minutes.”

Rhys smiled, something wicked and dark in the depths of it. “Alright darling take your time, I’ll be down here cleaning up.”

Rhys closed the door again, a sickly sweet grin on his face as darkness seeped into the cafe from every crevice. When no one could see in or out of the cafe, Rhys took a few steps forward till he was back in front of the trembling smaller male.

“I would apologize for what I'm about to do, but then again I feel it's deserved.” Rhys’s talons sunk their way into the other’s mind and Rhys greeted the other male’s eyes rolling into the back of his head with a sneer.

Misting was never pretty, it was brutal, dark, and savage; but to Rhys it was an oh so welcomed feeling. With a snap of Rhys’s fingers the male in front of him evaporated into a black ash like smoke, Rhys rolled his shoulders and popped his neck; looking at the mess on the floor Rhys simply snapped his fingers again removing any and all evidence of what had happened earlier.

Rhys moved to lean against the counter, finicking with his cufflinks when he heard heels click slowly down the stairs. His head perked up just as the door opened, his darling clad in a shimmery black dress that accentuated all the right curves; Rhys practically purred at the view, she would blend right in with Nesta and Mor at the table, like she had belonged there the entire time.

She took Rhys’s extended elbow, offering him a small smile. Rhys led her out the door, placing his free hand on her own hand clasped on his forearm. “Come darling, I want to show you something before we attend dinner.”

“Alright?”she questioned with a head tilt that Rhys had always found amusing since he had met her all those weeks ago.

Truth be told Rhys had an alternative motive in what he was showing her, tonight had just solidified his train of thought. Rhys took a shaky breath and began leading her down the street.

“Can I get a hint?” She asked softly.

“It's not really a hint but I can offer you an explanation. If that works for you?” Rhys countered.

“I’ll take it.” She giggled.

“I apologize for being the reason you were in danger earlier-” He started

“Rhys-” She attempted to interrupt, but Rhys cut her back off.

“No, let me say my piece please.” He begged softly.

“Ok. Sorry.” She offered.

“No worries Darling, as I was saying. I feel it is my fault you were in danger earlier and I’d like to apologize for that, but I find myself concerned with more than just that male from earlier.”

“Really Rhys, thank you for stepping in but he was no true threat.”she smiled up at him as they turned a corner.

“I wish that were true darling but remember I saw inside his mind, while he might have been trembling in my grasp his true intentions were in fact to harm you if you didn’t comply with his demands.” Rhys looked down, worry on his face and his eyebrows furrowed.

“I thought it was simply a childish farce if I'm being honest.” Her breath caught in her throat as she swallowed the breath stuck in her throat.

“Sadly no, and that's why I wish to show you this surprise. It's my fault you have become a target and thus I feel I should be the one to protect you.” Rhys extended his acknowledgement as he came to a stop in front of the estate.

She raised a brow at him as he led her through the wrought-iron gate and up the steps of the porch. He pushed the door open, leading her into a now barren estate. He stood behind her hands firmly on her shoulders, she looked back at him over the left one with a raised brow.

He had removed everything from the estate in the last week or so, moving it all to the vaults in the mountain underneath the House of Wind. He began to tour her through the empty halls, a shaky hand pressed firmly to the dip in her back.

“I've thought about this a bit, tonight was only a confirmation. I was planning to just extend this invitation present combo to you originally as a thank you for everything you have done for me. Now however, I would like to reword my offer.” Rhys sighed and tucked his chin to his chest almost like he was disappointed with himself and had to steel himself for whatever words were going to fall out of his mouth.

“Honestly, with the events of tonight I would much rather change my offer but the idea is nonsensical and this makes the most sense to me.” He shook his head, disagreeing with himself.

“Rhys, darling, you are rambling.” She smiled softly to him and turned to place a hand just above his elbow as an act to comfort him.

“Thank you darling, I’ll get back to my point.” He cleared his throat. “I’d like to offer you the estate. I moved everything to the vaults but I’d like to take you either to them to let you sort through stuff you’d like to or I can accompany you on a shopping trip. Now I know it is sudden and you are probably wanting to deny my offer, but let me put it this way: I’ve put lots of thought into this. First off I feel bad that the estate is just sitting there and you are in a one bed apartment above your shop that is also your makeshift office, since you sold your other apartment when your mate died. I would like to keep you safe due to my presence being what has put you in danger and I considered having you moved to the House of Wind I realized you aren’t necessarily close to anyone up there yet, besides Azriel but he will be away for the next few weeks, and would have no reliable way to the shop if I was preoccupied with my duties as High Lord. SO, I thought about what I could do about that little issue and it crossed my mind that the estate I was already going to offer you does in fact have an enchantment on the gate so that no one with ill intentions will be able to pass through, Thus I figured it would be the ebay course of action to move you into the estate.” Rhys smiled brightly having finally made his point.

“Rhys, I can’t-” She had started to counter.

“Sure you can, I’m offering so of course you can.” His smile faltered ever so slightly.

“No, Rhys I mean, There's no way I could pay the rent of this place or eleven pay the utilities on it.” She had begun to fiss over the offer, thinking into the little details.

“I’ll take care of it, it is my gift to you anyways.” Rhys shrugged.

“You can’t possibly-” She had started to shut his offer down again when Rhys squashed her with a finger to her lips.

“I respect you, darling, so I refuse to use any of my abilities on you,”She winced at his words. “Which is why I am hoping you just accept my offer now as is so I don’t have to command you too as your high lord. I truly just want to keep you safe since I can't be here all the time and this would satiate my anxiety.” Rhys smiled brightly.

“I- Okay, out of my respect for you I’ll accept your offer of the estate.” She had seemed shocked or maybe taken aback, Rhys couldn’t quite read the expression on her face.

“I’m not trying to be a dick or an asshole or anything, I hope you understand that I do truly want you to be safe.” Rhys gave her a small smile in offering.

“I know Rhys, just thank you it's beautiful.” She gave him a small smile before looking at the grain of the wooden floor.

“Of course darling, now come, we have a dinner to attend. We can begin moving your stuff over tomorrow and then go shopping or perusing the vaults.” Rhys proudly swept her out of the estate and up into the crisp night air.

+

A weight on Rhysand’s chest had been lifted, he had left one crucial detail out of what he had told her. While yes the gate wouldn’t let anyone with ill intentions pass through, it would also inform him of who it was trying to harm her. That information was an important part of Rhys’s plan to protect this new female that had helped heal the gaping wound in his chest.

The first dinner with the rest of his circle had gone well and several months had passed since, Azriel had been just overall ecstatic to see her. Mor and Amren shared some looks between each other but overall accepted her presence in the dining hall with joy especially when the topic of her no bake cookies were brought up, apparently in Amren’s switch to regular fae foods she had a rough time but found herself able to nibble on the cookies after stumbling into her shop one day. Nesta and Elain didn't speak the entire meal, just sat in silence while eying the female in their sister’s spot. Cassian had been standoffish at first, torn between his brother and his mates reactions but had ultimately warmed up to her engaging in chit-chat and batting away Nesta’s elbow to his ribs.

After he had retreated to his study for the evening and after he had walked her back to the cafe with the promise he would be there early to help with the transition to the estate, Azriel and Cassian had slipped into his office; Cassian with furrowed brows and Azriel with a worry in his eyes.

“What's your intention with her, Rhys?” Was all Cassian had started with.

“What do you mean?” He countered with a laugh at the end of his question.

“Cassian made his point to me earlier and as you know Rhys I feel responsible for the position she is in now. So her wellbeing matters to me more than I would like to admit, Cassian and I would like to know your intentions with her.” Azriel had sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Alright fine, sit down. I’ll explain everything to you two.” Rhys growled and motioned to the two leather chairs opposite his desk.

He had somehow laid out his plan for the other two to dissect, thinking neither of the males before him would necessarily approve but to his surprise they exchanged glances between each other and with a nod agreed to assist him. Thus started the long game of assuring the safety of the female all three were sure would become their next High Lady.

Over the next couple months Rhysand eased himself into crafting a love life with her, subtly protective of her shooting glares to anyone that seemed to give them looks when they would walk through Velaris. Everytime he would feel the gates wards surge, an image of whoever was trying to get to his darling would cross his mind. A quick note to Azriel or Cassian, whoever wasn't busy or on a mission, would have the assailant swept away silently in the depths of the night.

It had been over a year before she made any note of the disappearances, and Rhys’s spine straightened when she had mumbled something to him ,about less attendees to their grief support meetings, one evening after cleaning up.

“Have you noticed we have had less people coming to the meetings? I tried to turn a journal into one of them the other day thinking they just stopped coming but even their family said they hadn't seen them for awhile themselves that they had just up and left a note saying they were offered a home in Spring Court now that it's starting to rebuild and needs more citizens. Isn’t that neat Rhys? You never told me that was happening, how could you leave that out of your stories to me? I could have pitched in to offer some of my baked goods for those relocating!” She had scolded as she pushed in a chair and began wiping a table down.

Rhysand’s back was ramrod straight as he let out an awkward chuckle. “Apologies darling, it must have slipped my mind. I thought I had informed you already.”

He was just relieved the lie had been taken seriously by everyone included.

“It's alright darling, you are a super busy and important male you don't need to tell me every detail.” She smiled. “I was just surprised by them leaving without any word.”

He rounded a table and pressed a kiss to her cheek. “Here darling let me, I have a meeting with Cass and Az tonight about a debriefing from their most recent mission. Let me walk you back to your estate before I leave?”

She smiled brightly up at him. “Thank you Rhys.”

“Of course Darling.” He smiled back, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “I'll be right back, I am going to slip into the bathroom for just a moment darling.”

“Hurry,” she chirped with a laugh “I’ll grab our coats from upstairs.”

In the bathroom Rhys gripped at the ceramic sink with a deep breath he reached out to Azriel and Cassian. Hearing their acknowledgments as he slipped into their minds he smiled brightly telling them to come up to his office for a quick meeting tonight. He felt the two agree and retreated from their minds, washing his hands in the warm water of the sink to give the illusion to her he had done exactly what he said he was doing.

+

Rhysand, Cassian, and Azriel stood in a circle around Rhysand’s desk. Glasses in hand as Rhys informed them the ploy had worked without a flaw. The three cheered before beginning to talk about the next steps in the plan.

“She's been talking less at meetings, mainly just listening and offering her input to others. She's become more distant with scheduling the meetings themselves, letting more time go between them. I think it's only a matter of time before they stop completely. Once that happens then we move into the next step. That's when I'll confess and offer her the position of High Lady.” Rhys confirmed.

The other two males nodded as well, confirming their agreement.

“I don’t like what we have done to get here, I don’t like the sacrifices made but they were made to protect her and I can think of no better place for her safety than by my side. As my high lady.” Rhys downed his glass and the other two yelled their agreement and followed his action of downing the drink.

+

It hadn’t taken Rhys long at all to saunter down to the estate after the meeting with the other two males had concluded, he would stalk up the stairs of the quiet estate and slip into bed beside her; rousing her from her slumber to show her how thankful he was for her to give him a chance, how thankful he was he would get to love her, just like he had done almost every night like it was a routine.

Rhys however, was surprised to find every light in the estate on and even more surprised to find her sniffling on the stairs. His blood raged for a minute before he calmed himself the best he could as he called out to her. “Darling? What's wrong? What happened?”

“I-I think I want to stop hosting the meetings.” She sniffled.

“Why darling? What happened?” Rhys took a few soft steps forward, joining to sit beside her on the wooden staircase, he pressed her ever so gently into his shoulder, one hand rubbing her back.

“People aren’t really coming anymore for one, two I don't really feel the connection to it I once did, and three is that there will soon be something else that requires the energy and attention I'm giving the group.” She choked on another sob and Rhys pressed a kiss to the top of her head.

“What's that love? What’s going to pull your attention like that?” Rhys crooned, his voice as soft as he could make it.

“I- it just feels so wrong like this Rhys, I feel like I betrayed them with this.” She sobbed and Rhys shushed her.

“Ssssshhhh, darling, it's okay you’re rambling darling. What has you so worked up?” Rhys ran his other hand through her hair, an attempt to calm her and himself as his anxiety began to rear its head.

“I- Rhys I’m pregnant. I feel like it's betraying our other halves-” another sob wracked her body.

Rhys joined her in crying, silent trails down his own cheeks. “It’s not darling trust me, Feyre made me promise I’d move on with my life after her. It's the only thing that made me agree to attend your group and I thank the mother everyday for putting you in my path, because I know the mother gives those that deserve it second chances and you darling deserve every single one.” Rhys tried to soothe her.

“You really think so?” She sniffled as Rhys wiped her face.

“I know so, cause she brought me you.” Rhys whispered.

So he would have to move the plan up, the mother worked in strange ways sure, but this was an unexpected turn.

She smiled softly at Rhys as he wiped the last tears from her face. “Marry me then, I'll make you High Lady. Both you and our child will be kept safe and away from harm, you will have everything you want or need, both of you. I- I just want you, no need you, by my side. Please darling.”

“O-okay.” She nodded and sniffled, letting Rhys sweep her up in her arms and carry her to the bed.

He tucked her in softly kissing her forehead before stepping into the closet of his belongings to change into some loose sleeping pants. She had passed out when he finally crawled into bed next to her, pulling her close to his chest.

Yes, there were many things Rhysand regretted but this was not one of them. The steps he took to insure a second chance with the female he now held close to his chest was not something he would regret. The lives he had taken and the minds he had misted to ensure her safety were not amongst that list. Yes, he regretted many things, but she would not be one of them

[buckrecs]

2023 𝙗𝙪𝙘𝙠𝙮 𝙗𝙖𝙧𝙣𝙚𝙨 𝙛𝙞𝙘 𝙧𝙚𝙘 2

masterlist | ✨- fav fics | status - complete

All of them are COMPLETE Series.

1. Chicken by @delusionalwriterr

Bucky x Reader

You and Bucky Barnes shared a strange relationship with each other and the team was getting tired of it. When a mission goes wrong, will you be forced to admit your feelings for each other or will they remain buried?

2. sweet reverie by @demxters

College!Bucky x Reader

bucky asks you to pretend to be his girlfriend for the weekend but after what you thought was sweeter than a dream has you facing a harsher reality.

3. The Time of the Prey by @subwaysurf45 ✨

Knight!Bucky x Princess!Reader

The younger sister of the most talked about princess in the kingdoms really can’t do much except smile and nod. When Natasha, your sister, finally goes to moves all of you to Shieldshire to marry her beloved Prince Steve you are left with your art, all alone. But one Knight took it upon himself to keep you company, and that company was all you needed to get through wedding season. Will that company last or will it be ripped away from the both of you? A war is starting and it seems targets are being made. 

4. super rich kids by @traitorjoelite

College!Bucky x Reader

kids with too much money, parties every night, and an incident with your best friend’s brother is just the norm on the upper east side.

5. Bring You Home by @sunflowersoldat ✨

Bucky x Reader

Y/N travels back in time to get Steve’s help for one last mission, but not everything goes as planned.

6. The Colour of Rain by @delaber

Bucky x Reader

On the run from his violent past, Bucky has sought refuge in a small town in Mexico where he enjoys the peace and quiet of not understanding a word of Spanish. A peace that is violently disturbed when he runs into the most annoying woman he has ever met.

7. All The King’s Men by @nastybuckybarnes ✨

Alpha!King!Bucky x Omega!Reader

Your father always said that if it weren’t for your presentation, he’d think you were an Alpha. There’s a reason for that. Growing up in a world where Omegas are treated like garbage, you’ve fought for the respect that you have. Until you’re sold off to an old King desperate for a bride. But you will not lay down and present for your new husband. No, you will fight back.

8. Peaches by @noctumbra

DBF!Bucky x Reader

what they were doing was wrong, both of them knew that. it had to be kept as a secret. not everyone would understand what they have, she knew that much. they’d look at them and see an older man misleading a girl so much younger than him. it wasn’t the thing, though. that had never been the thing. it wasn’t misleading, taking advantage ─whatever they called their situation. it was love. forbidden, not-society-friendly, but love. 

9. Sweet Dreams by @abovethesmokestacks ✨

Bucky x Baker!Reader

Sometimes you start talking with someone, and you realize you share an interest and a wish for a certain supersoldier to be cut som slack. Enter cupcakes.

10. Fuck Up The Friendship by @summerofsnowflakes

Bucky x Reader College AU

Fed up with having your feelings played with you decide to have some fun with a with your friend Steve.

11. A Sweet Old Fashioned Notion by @sidepartskinnyjeans

Bucky x Reader

As the dust settles on the second 'snap' Bucky has been getting to know Brooklyn again. His neighbourhood has changed a lot, but it's changed for you too since you got blipped back. Bucky is still pretty old fashiond at heart, there were things he expected from life, to get married, to have a family. Simple things that seem far away now especially when online dating is so hard. Maybe something more traditional would be good for both of you.

12. Soldier, My Soldier by @cryptidcasanova

Winter Soldier!Bucky x Reader

“I am the writing on the wall, the whisper in the air. Without these things I am nothing. So now, I must shed blood.” He lulled at the base of your throat. “Sweetheart, come with me.”

13. Homesick at space camp by @atlaese

Bucky x Avenger!Reader

dying on a cold spaceship lightyears away from home wasn't what you expected

14. Spirits in the House by @redgillan

Detective!Bucky x Reader

Reader is in a coma after a car accident. Bucky moves into your apartment and find your spirit still hanging around.

15. Sugary Sweet by @all1e23

Sugar Daddy!Bucky x Reader

Is it all just sugar or something more? 

16. Missing Piece by @likeahorribledream

Bucky x Reader

When Bucky first arrived to the compound, Steve was his only friend and the only person he trusted himself around. That is until Steve introduces him to you, his best friend. Bucky was fascinated by how often you and Steve would hug each other. It had been a very long time since anyone had touched him in such a loving way and it didn’t take long before Bucky found himself craving your touch, but whenever you’d get too close he would flinch as if someone had hit him. His trauma still too fresh a wound for him to be comfortable with someone touching him. Then one day, he finally fights his instincts and let you touch him. He hadn’t realized how truly touch starved he was until he feels the warmth of your skin against his. Something clicks for the both of you in that moment, you had found your missing piece. As long as you were with each other, you were home. You both tried to fool yourselves into thinking you were just friends, really close friends. Friends that needed to be together almost every minute of every day and who needed to hold each other to be able to sleep at night.

17. Metal Arm and Short Skirts by @buckyarchives

Bucky x Doctor!Reader

waltzing in as the new head of the Avenger's medical division, impressing everyone, and... scaring Bucky with your incredibly short skirts. Bucky's having a hard time looking at his arm as anything other than a deadly weapon, and you're more than happy to help him.

18. Scars by @chickenfics ✨

Bucky x Reader Western AU

Running from a past that haunts you and a future that is unsure, the last thing you wanted was to take up with a stranger. Strangers, you'd learned, are almost always more trouble than they're worth. But when dangers from the life you're trying to leave behind get too close for comfort, drastic times call for drastic measures, and the stranger you'd once feared becomes the only person you can trust -- and perhaps the only person you'd call your friend. Now you both just have to make it out alive... 

19. The Color of Blood by @theidiotwhowritesthings

Bucky x Agent!Reader Soulmate AU

In this world, a person didn’t discover color until they locked eyes with their soulmate. As an agent of SHIELD, finding your soulmate was hardly a priority. Especially since you were currently dealing with the shocking discovery that HYDRA had been pulling the strings behind SHIELD actions this entire time. Life was all about timing, and you were about to find out that your timing was absolute shit.

20. Everybody’s Watching Him (But He’s Looking At Her) by @writing-for-marvel

Actor!Bucky x Assistant!Reader

The entire world’s eyes are on movie star Bucky Barnes, what he’s wearing, who he’s dating, even the mystery behind why he needs a prosthetic arm - but Bucky doesn’t care about all that, he’s only got one thing on his mind, you.

21. 27 Dresses by @beccaanne814

Bucky x Reader Modern AU

You are the epitome of “always a bridesmaid, never a bride.” You think you know what love is, but sometimes you can’t see what’s right in front of you.

22. Heal by @chucksfavouriteprophet

Alpha!Bucky x Omega!Reader

For months you managed to distance yourself from Bucky Barnes, the alpha you long for. But one night you have no choice but to comfort him, something which brings out emotions in both of you. Except it also brings out emotions in the Winter Solider, which results in a devastating turn of events that neither of you might be able to come back from.

23. Dangerous Woman by @samthemarvelfan

Bucky x Reader

You know he blames you, but you never thought he’d hate you.

24. Witness Protection by @mymoonagedaydream

Bucky x Reader

You'd only been living in New York for a few weeks when Natasha introduced you to James Barnes, the man who’d change your life forever.

25. Everything’s Better in Westview by @espinosaurusrexex ✨

Bucky x Reader

Bucky and Y/N sneak into Westview to have the perfect life. Away from late Steve and Tony, Vision and Natasha, they let themselves be consumed by suburban magic. To their surprise, however, some of these people aren’t so dead in the town. And there are some other weird things happening that make them question their sanity. But that’s okay, right? ‘Cause everything’s better in Westview.

26. Trying by @moonlight-prose

Bucky x Reader

Bucky Barnes was a new person. He survived a war with Thanos, finally getting rid of his triggers, and losing his best friend. He didn’t think there was anything else to survive. That is until he meets you in a bookstore and you become something he is scared of losing. An old villain has shown himself and suddenly you are the target of a new ploy to bring the Winter Soldier back.

27. unconventional methods by @marvelouslizzie

Bucky x Adult Content Creator!Reader

Bucky Barnes has a big problem: he is too anxious to date and too old school to enjoy porn. But he needs some kind of relief, and he needs it right now. After getting an accidental boner during a mission, Natasha suggests him an application that seems to be exactly what he needs. Will your content solve the problem for him? Or will it create new problems?

28. ephemeral by @aescapisms

Professor!Bucky x Reader

Bucky Barnes fell in love with you, but the universe isn’t all that forgiving.

29. Bulletproof by @amandaoftherosemire ✨

Bucky x Reader College AU

You, Steve Rogers, and Bucky Barnes have been the best of friends since middle school. On top of that, you’ve been in love with Bucky pretty much the whole time. Everything changed after the three of you got to college, however. Over the past couple of years you and Steve have become even closer but things between you and Bucky have been strained since the night he broke your heart. Can anything bring you back together?

30. The Heart is a Deep Ocean by @dreamlessinparis

Bucky x Reader Titanic AU

Titanic was known as the ship of dreams. For you, it was the dream of getting home, or so you thought. From the moment you locked eyes with James Buchanan Barnes, all those dreams changed and your life was never the same.

[cannedpickledpeaches]

Insert Your Name (1)

Mafia!Jade Leech x Mafia!Reader

Link to series masterlist!

Notes and TW: I wanted to write something that simultaneously includes some fun Jade moments as well as my own thoughts on some tropes. This series will have mentions of blood, violence, crime (kidnapping, attempted assassination, extortion), and harassment, as one might expect from a mafia AU. Please enjoy!

You’ve known the truth for a while—that this world exists inside a story. This is a world that revolves around a nameless, faceless, flawless main character. This entire world around you exists to serve one purpose: to present trials to the main character until she eventually finds a happy ending with her one and only. This world is created for “(Y/N).”

You are Friend A. Friend A is a foolish girl who puts (Y/N) into a dangerous situation, involving her with the mafia. (Y/N) is saved by a tall, dark, and brooding man who turns out to be a mafia boss. They will face dangers in the underworld until all threats are eliminated, and then they will live out the rest of their lives in blissful peace as though they are good people. Friend A is never mentioned again after page two.

You are Friend A. You are aware of that.

So why don’t you break out of your role in this story? Why should you play your part instead of using this knowledge to change the flow of the plot?

Simply because the plot is beneficial to you.

You are Friend A. You are a core member of the Leech Mafia. When (Y/N) enters the mafia, her actions flick the first domino of a long chain of events, eventually leading to the prosperity of the Leech family and expanding their influence. Because no matter what, this story caters to (Y/N)’s livelihood.

And why should you interfere with something that will eventually pay out big for you?

There she is now, coming down the street with a smile. Her indistinct hair is in a messy bun that she always throws together in seconds. Her pants emphasize her incredibly tiny waist, and her eyes sparkle with the light of constellations when she sees you. A light blush dusts her cheeks even though she doesn’t wear makeup, and she passes all the people captivated by her on the sidewalk, oblivious to their stares, because she doesn’t believe in her innate beauty and charisma—the beauty and charisma that the story says she has.

“Oh, there you are!” Her voice, clear and sweet, rings out to you. You wave back, just as you are supposed to. “You said you wanted to get sweets from the bakery that just opened, right? I’m so excited. I love sweets! I saved up some money just for this.”

A dialogue line full of exposition. You nod and lead the way.

“Have you seen their Magicam posts? The cakes are so pretty.”

Her giggles chime like bells. “I think the strawberry one is the cutest!”

Your small talk has little to no substance. It exists only to pass the time. To be honest, you don’t mind. If this were any normal day, you would have enjoyed this. You would have visited that bakery with (Y/N), gone home with a strawberry tart, checked up on the ledgers for the mafia, and slept while fed and content. But today is the inciting incident of the story, and you have your part to play.

A dark alleyway is where these things always take place in stories. Four men smoking and muttering ominously to themselves lean against a brick wall, hidden in shadow. Their eyes follow your every step. You make sure to walk on the outside of the sidewalk so that (Y/N) passes by the alley. As expected, their hands shoot out and grab her arm.

“Hey, you there.” One of the thugs licks his chops. “Got a minute to spare, pretty thing?”

Generic “bad guy” dialogue. Of course, he’s talking to (Y/N). You don’t need to do anything yet except make sure the pieces are in place. A flutter of black fabric in the corner of your vision assures you that the main lead is ready and waiting.

“Get your hands off me!” (Y/N) struggles against his much stronger grip to no avail. The men pull us into the alleyway and corner us against a dumpster. Tasteful.

“Don’t be so harsh.” Another thug whose voice scrapes like glass shards to the ears grabs your shoulder. You don’t shrug him off. Right now, your role is to lay low and let the main character shine. “We just wanna show you a good time.”

“You can fuck right off! And don’t touch my friend.” (Y/N) shows off her generically headstrong personality now. She probably thinks that she should protect you. You are Friend A, without any special characteristics, a piece of cannon fodder that cannot do anything on your own. Even though (Y/N) doesn’t consciously think that way, this is how she perceives the world. She is not wrong for doing so—she’s being sweet, in the way that she is designed to be.

You don’t have anything to do while she shoots off her scathing remarks, so you take your time to observe the thugs. Just as the story you read describes, these men come from an easily identifiable rival mafia. All four have a tattoo of a handsaw on their bodies—the symbol of the Carpenter Mafia, the current major group in the Queendom of Roses. Common soldiers, no doubt. Not anyone of importance . . . yet.

Thug Number One brings your attention back to the conversation by yanking on your hair. It hurts a little. Irritating, but you can bear with it. (Y/N) looks outraged.

“How about this? Since you’re so determined to save your friend, I’ll let her go if you give yourself to us.” He continues with his harassment by grabbing your cheeks with his grimy fingers. You inhale deeply and immediately regret it due to the smell of his breath. Your mind urges you to refrain from giving him a nice fist to the face. Not just from his treatment of you, but also from his gross proposition to (Y/N). Despite your respective roles in this story, she is still your friend. Hearing him throw those slimy words at her leaves a bitter taste in your mouth.

(Y/N) puts up a struggle. “I won’t give you anything!”

“Do you think you’re in a position to make demands?”

She hesitates, looking at you with conflicting emotions warring on her features. Takes a deep breath, just as the story says she would. Then, with a wavering voice and a tough façade, she agrees.

You take your cue to run from the alleyway, abandoning her the way Friend A is meant to do. You don’t have to worry. After all, the thugs won’t be able to do anything before the male lead steps in and saves her.

There isn’t much time to waste until you get an update on the story. You hail a taxi to a neighbourhood by the sea. You tip the driver handsomely, bid him a good day, then walk another block before arriving at a mansion. There’s nobody here to greet you except the security guards at the front gates.

You scan the trees. Looks like he’s in a good mood. When he’s upset, he doesn’t usually climb. He hasn’t noticed you yet—his back is turned, his head buried in a particularly thick patch of leaves, and you’re downwind.

“Floyd!”

He turns so suddenly that you’re worried he’ll get whiplash. A grin lights up his face, and without a single reservation, he jumps right off the tree and lands smoothly on your side of the fence surrounding one of the Leeches' many properties. The sun shines across his handsome, sharp features. Of course, the twin brother of the male lead must be gorgeous in accordance with the axioms that govern this world.

“Handfish, how was it? Did Jade meet her?” Even though you are Friend A in this story, to Floyd, you are just his friend. He hasn’t given you a generic nickname like the “minnows” that he calls the family’s soldiers and staff. To him, you are an individual who is interesting enough to grant a personal nickname. Even if that nickname is “Red Handfish.”

“Yeah, he did. I saw his blazer.” You think back to the black fabric you saw before entering the alley. “I bet he’s doing the whole ‘I can’t let you live’ conversation with her.”

In the story, one of the thugs reveals Jade’s identity as a mafia boss in front of (Y/N) before he passes out. How a common foot soldier of the Carpenter mafia can recognize Jade, whose face is kept classified from lower-ranked members of the underworld, is worrying enough to warrant investigation. This could simply be a result of poor writing from the original plot, but you are also an example of the original story’s loose ends. If someone like you, who was meant to disappear after page two, can still have any significance and will instead of vaporizing immediately after you left that alley, then you can’t be too careful.

“Bet he’s being real smooth with it.” Floyd cackles, his raspy laugh reminding you of a chain smoker after five consecutive packs. “She’s gonna fall for it hook, line, and sinker.”

“Of course. We’re talking about Jade.” Even under regular circumstances, he’s charming enough to lure any poor, unsuspecting fool to their demise. “They’re going to come here any minute now. Let’s go inside.”

You pass the security guards and enter the Leech property. A perfectly paved ground with colourful stones and not a weed in sight. A marble fountain surrounded by neat, rectangular hedges. And of course, the enormous white mansion with huge double doors, which in turn have proportionally huge fancy glass windows. For (Y/N) to have a “perfect” ending, the world must allow her to escape her current life of scrimping and saving by marrying her into a wealthy family.

“I wonder what the little minnow looks like.” Floyd hums, sauntering into the living room. “I bet she’d break easily if I squeezed real hard, huh?”

“Don’t do that.” The two of you sit on a velvet couch. Floyd’s long limbs sprawl out and take up the majority of the space. You settle on the far end. “And are you going to keep calling her a minnow?”

“Dunno, haven’t met her yet.”

“She’s very pretty. When you meet her, I’m sure you’ll get the feeling that there’s something special about her.”

The story emphasizes how much Floyd adores (Y/N). She is supposed to become a sort of mood stabilizer for him, keeping him consistently happy in her presence. You wonder if that will actually happen. Floyd can and will throw tantrums around people he holds dear. His mood that flips at the drop of the hat seems difficult to stabilize on just affection alone.

He shrugs non-committedly. Just as you’re about to suggest a nickname he could use, your phone buzzes.

Five minutes away. Jade’s text is short and to the point. You stand and stretch, getting ready to play Peeping Tom.

“Remember, don’t say anything about the original plot, okay?” Floyd’s unpredictable nature worries you. You know that your reminder won’t do much if Floyd decides it would be fun to spill the beans anyway, but you can’t help yourself.

“I know, I know.” He frowns and waves you off. Laughing, you move to the room across the hall. He hates being told what to do, but he’s in a good mood right now. It won’t be a problem.

The front door creaks open. Through a crack in the door, you watch Jade carry (Y/N) in his arms like a princess and set her down on the couch. Smooth, easy, efficient, the way he likes to do everything. Even though you know he is acting, his movements, the soft look in his eyes, are almost believable to you. And you’ve known him for fifteen years. There’s an odd stirring in your chest. Guilt? Envy? You tamp it down.

For a fraction of a second, you swear you make eye contact with him. If he notices you, he doesn’t show it. He seems to redouble his efforts on acting sweet to (Y/N). It might just be your imagination.

Floyd pokes around at the two of them the way he always does when he’s curious about something new. His grating laugh fills the air while Jade bandages a scrape on her knee. Good, the scene is going exactly as described in the story. (Y/N)’s first colourful and memorable experience with her future family. Her new family must be fun, rich, kind to her, and love her unconditionally no matter the circumstances. Her new family has to be better in every way compared to her current one—a mother who passed away at childbirth and a scummy father who neglects her. For an author, these are simply lazy ways to give her a tragic backstory and simultaneously pretend her parents don’t exist for the rest of the story because they don’t add to the romance.

How horrible. How could a late mother and neglectful father not affect a person? How could they simply be written off as another thing the male lead “saves” her from? And for that matter, how can the author casually write in a scene where she is cornered by adult men who are physically far stronger than her, who harass her and make disgusting comments, just so she can meet the male lead? How can they just pretend that won’t lead to any trauma?

You know firsthand how (Y/N) lives her life, because despite the story labeling you as the disposable Friend A, you genuinely have been her friend for the past year. You’ve seen her live on plain rice porridge for days to cut grocery costs. You’ve seen her wear clothes until they are threads because she can’t afford to buy new ones. Oh, but isn’t it wonderful that she’s skinny and looks good in everything?

What a load of bullshit.

[sureinsunlight]

Song Prompt-- All My Dust-Fed Men

Requested by @entropyking

Saddam-- AlicebanD

You think the man you love is lonely

As the bridge you climb is burning

But the bridge you climb is smoking

As the flames are all put out

CW for gore and body horror under the cut!

Ah, Ah, Ah.

When first I awake, it is to the knowledge of gore. Of buzzing blood and waking hunger.

I know whose flesh it is that's closed about me before I feel its press.

The gate is closed. I'm on the wrong side, sewn into a body that is not mine. And despite this all, I rejoice.

My clapping hands shape from rib and tendon and burst through skin to ring bloody in the air. My jaws calcify in bloody pockets, chewing through fat to feel the cool sting of air and gasp voiceless praise. This is what I am-- chrysalis personae, malformed dredges of humanity pushing out to give desperate thanks. No eyes to see, for what is there but disappointment for them to gaze upon? No ears to hear, for the only voice I care for hums through our bones. The sobbing of my precious hound, my jackal who has swallowed down the scraps of my corpse and given me a gift most holy.

Oh, Cerberus mine, how I wasted your potential afore. How I smeared blasphemy upon your name. What grace, to belong after such damnation. To have meaning still.

I chant. He sobs, and holds me. I hold him. They will not take him from me now. We will be holiness.

He puts rings on my fingers. Gilds his insides for a gift.

Ah, Ah, Ah.

[appleblueberry-pie]

Refusing worshipper yandere Levi because he’s kinda pathetic :( (love Levi as a character 🫶)

He’s just…. Not what we want in a man… in height at least.

you loved every single individual worshipper you had in your gigantic plot of land. your worshippers are beautiful, unique, smart and driven in ways you couldn't imagine. they were a simple small town when you first became ruler. yet, they proved themselves more than worthy when they continuously gifted you the best of their crops and constantly bathed you with care and love during every possible holiday that they celebrated.

they rebuilt their own town and even found a way to elevate your own living chambers, somehow finding a way to remodel your throne and entire palace. and you reminded them constantly how much you loved them. how they will thrive with more goods and crops when the seasons call for it and you will also provide them with whatever they need.

every day, your personal servants clean your estate, top to bottom. Occasionally dusting and washing with soap and water places you haven't touched in more than a week. All your steps are retraced with cleaners at the end of the day and you are always cleaned and well fed by the hands of your big-hearted servants. the men take care of big bulk-sized bags of crops being brought in from the fields as well as construction happening in town. men and women keep you company around the palace and feed, bathe, and entertain you.

there isn't a day that isn't as fulfilling as the last. you are thankful for them as much as they are for you. but recently, there has been a new man from town that got himself promoted to being you personal servant not too long ago. the only reason he was allowed in is your close-friend and servant recently died building construction, he fell off of a building. this man, Levi, says he will do all he can and more for you. you doubted him, considering the townsmen weren't ever going to be as devoted and loving your close servants were.

but he challenged the thought. you saw it as disrespect to those who put in the most effort for you, but allowed yourself to be open minded about his words.

Levi never let a single inch of the castle go uncleaned. you found it scary, unnerving, even. but he tells you it's one of his hobbies, so you let him be. when it's time to bring in the bags of crops for the season, you wordlessly watch as he walks twice the speed as the other men surrounding him, two bags on his shoulders instead of one.

you don't mention anything when he lectures the women on what to put into your bathwater when you're ready to settle for the night or get ready for the day. not when your skin feels this soft.

you don't mention anything when he gives you certain fruits when you bleed, hand feeding you quite sensually. but it can't be sensual, right? his thumb will brush your bottom lip occasionally, eyes sharp and staring directly you. but he's just a servant. a completely devoted, body mind and soul, ambitious servant for you.

you didn't plan to mention anything when you two were alone in your warm and shallow pool in the garden behind the palace. and he was in front of you while you rested in the water naked. you didn't plan to mention anything when he had the loose robe all of the men wore, hanging low on his hips and completely drenched as your foot rested on his muscular thigh, his hands working slowly into your foot with patience, care and love. a foot massage.

but your lips still separated to speak your question you've been wondering for a while. "what are you doing?"

he looks up from your relaxed foot, not stopping his hands once, staring up at you calmly. silence lingers between the both of you before he answers. "my job, my queen." your lip twitches slightly at his words, sighing lightly. "yes.....but why must you push yourself so hard?"

he grabs your foot by the ankle with both hands, lowering it slowly back into the water before grabbing the other one to set on his leg, starting the same way he did with the other one. smoothly and distracting. "to keep your eyes on me, my lord." he says no more than that, his face stone as he looks back down at your foot to focus on making you relax as much as possible.

you close your eyes, resting your head on the bed of grass behind you.

Levi looks back up to take in the image he's been blessed with. "you're not what i'd have in mind for who i'd want to be king of my land." you look back at him, to see him still staring at you. his hands still work diligently on every toe, every curve and muscle in your foot with obvious love pouring into his craft. like you didn't even say anything.

"i don't want to be king. i want to be yours. i want you to use me the way you choose and i'll still give you whatever you deserve in return." you roll your eyes and he softly stops massaging your foot, running his hand up your calf a little.

you're a little speechless. you've met a handful of obsessive devotees. but for some reason, he makes you reconsider a lot of things. he's special. and you don't know what to think of it. you don't want him, but it's hard to imagine the castle without him even though he's only been here for so long.

"Levi." he mutters your title in return. "please go tend to my chambers. im sure the others would appreciate your effort."

he was already on one knee in the shallow water halfway through your words. head bowed, he treats you with a goodbye before taking his leave. you're left to your own thoughts.

idk yall i like this one.

[stuck-writing-sickos]

In Poor Taste [P9]

(Yandere × Reader)

[Series link]

[Warning: obsessiveness, misogyny, sexism, harrassment, explicit language, violence, mentions of sex]

(Dead from work. Enjoy. Here is what u came for. Anyway, tell me what u think. Talk to me. Ik i havent been responsive (busy) but i wanna read ur comments 🫶 love u stay well and stay away from people like my OCs)

He never knew how good it tastes to bite the hands that fed him.

Better some of you than none of you, Lukas thought when his eyes refused to leave your body as you sat by the pool with a beer in your hands. The humid air hung heavy beneath rumbling thunder, but no rain yet. The villa was quiet sans the sound of wind and waves. Lukas felt sticky under his shirt as he shifted, trying to see your face but couldn't. The bedside lamp casted light through the uncurtained glass wall against your back, soft and yellow like saw dust. You didn't talk. He didn't know what to say - you had Yuki on your mind and he had your brutal fist on his. This wouldn't go anywhere nice.

He clicked his tongue and took a sip from his can.

"Something on your mind?" - you asked, face turned away.

"Nothing at all."

"You seem pensive."

No, you do.

"Maybe just the stress of trying to readjust to a new way of life."

"You're doing well."

"Well... thank you."

Words failed him. His head raced to piece together something to say that wouldn't make the friction between you and him worse. He couldn't. Lukas no longer wanted to make small talks about bullshits like "how do you like Phuket so far" or "how many siblings do you have". He was tired of trying to get to know you politely. He wanted to rip through the layers and get messy - "we're small and scared. Please, let me into your arms", he wanted to say, the fire in his stomach sending heat through his whole body, his fingers itching to reach for your skin.

You were angry at Yuki, no? He probably fucked up - men always do. Yuki probably did what men do best - use and discard. After all, sex is the ultimate currency in their sphere. Lukas wondered if Yuki felt good after having had you. Did he brag? Did he laugh about the way he made you buck and squirm with his friends?

Lukas turned his gaze away, feeling guilt brewing in his stomach. You wouldn't know about all that. You probably woke up in Yuki's arms smiling, thinking that the intimacy meant something. But Yuki would turn cold. They all do. He had you, and he had the nods and murmurs from the douchebags he hung out with. And now there you were, sitting by the edge of the small pool, wondering what you did wrong, asking yourself questions like "was that all I am to him".

Lukas wanted to throw up thinking about it. He tried hard not to realize the reason he could imagine the intricacies of your situation so vividly, but the thought had taken roots. He knew because he had done it all. He wasn't any better.

But he could learn. That was the difference. And what more... he could atone. He would gladly take your punishment. Lukas felt his fingertips playing with the silver chain on his neck, pulling it around as if to scratch an itch he had yet felt. His eyes found their ways back to you who had not said a word, your arms pulling your knees to your chest. He swallowed dryly.

He could learn. He could be good for you. Yuki couldn't do that - the man left you sad and confused, likely unaware that under your calm surface you were a storm. He didn't stop to see the look in your eyes now when you fixed them upom the sky - resilient, yet filled with disappointment. You expected better from Yuki and he failed to deliver. That was on him - he was flawed and spineless, unable to let you in.

But Lukas could.

Before he could think of anything to say, a flash of light cut through the sky. You didn't flinch. "This one will be loud", you said. Lukas braced for the thunder, his body tensing up. "Yeah", he replied, his voice suddenly weak. He jumped at the cracking thunder, his head ringing.

"Are you okay?" - you asked, sounding cold as usual.

"No, yeah", he tried to match your tone but couldn't, heaving, "Just a little startled."

"A Texan who's scared of thunder... what do you know..."

He laughed, barely containing the high he felt seeing that you had engaged in some sort of personal conversation with him for once.

"You got me."

"The thunder did. I'm just sitting here."

He was aware that he was smiling big, but he didn't know how to stop that. Lukas wanted to say something else, but before he could, he felt water on his skin. The rain came down hard and quick. In the moment he took to react, it had already curtained the scene white.

"Ah...", he heard you said past the rainfall. You were sopping wet like him, your thin summer clothes clinging to your skin, showing him almost everything he wanted to see. The rain was cold, yet he could not beat the heat.

You stood up. He followed. You didn't seem to be in a hurry when you pried your glass door open and let him in with you, spashing the curtain and carpet. Something inside him clicked when the sound of rain sounded distant so suddenly, leaving the air filled with your breaths and the dripping of your clothes. Standing around awkwardly, he watched you who returned his gaze. Lukas felt the hair on his arms standing up when you asked:

"Are you cold?"

___

Yuki wanted to peel the skin off his body to see if the crawling discomfort would cease. He felt restless. Squirming in the uncomfortable arm chair, he watched the storm rage on, thrashing against the window. He couldn't even go for a smoke when he needed it most. Biting on his nails, Yuki felt the uncomfortable queasiness all over himself like a swarm of spiders.

He wanted to talk to you.

Yuki knew he handled the first night he spent with you poorly. He talked of family too soon. He still couldn't think of one good reasons why he did it. When you looked away and avoided his question about regrets, a switch flipped in his braim and made him stupid. Did you regret sleeping with him? He would hate that. Perhaps that was why his first reaction was to lock you down with hints of family and marriage. Juvenile and stupid, no different than Lukas. Fuck. He was just afraid to lose you.

Even now, he still felt the lump in his throat. It sucked that he wanted you so bad. For a long time, he thought he was dead inside when it came to intimacy - he only knew panic, only knew to look for the door when someone got too close. Yuki couldn't find it in himself to put his lips on another's, much less doing what he did to you when he was still in office clothes, smelling of sweat and cigarette. He didn't vomit after. When he finished and look at you still holding onto him in disarray, Yuki thought that he was at the right place. It was simple and natural - he wanted you and you wanted him.

It didn't take him long, though, to flip the script. Maybe he wanted you, and you wanted to escape your family that lurked at the other end of your calls, their shadow looming over you even when their bodies were plane flights away. He thought of that when you fell asleep by his side, the skin on your face no longer carved in by your exhaustion. In that moment, he felt like just another giant of your bad dreams, casting his own shadow on you. Were you running away and just happened to find yourself in his arms? He couldn't sleep well that night, not at that thought, but at another more sinister one he failed to deny.

He would gladly be your safe haven.

The moment that thought took form, Yuki felt a twist in his stomach. He didn't bother to deny the idea - no excuses of "that was just an intrusive thought" or "I only wanted to support her". When he slipped out of bed and into your bathroom, he knew what he saw in the mirror. He was no misunderstood artist, he was no kindhearted colleague, and he was definitely no reliable friend. He was a spider waiting for you to flail your way into his web, and once you did he had every intention to keep you there. He wouldn't mind you getting in more troubles, as long as you come running back to him. He would make it nice and cozy for you. With him, you could surrender your guards and let him take the lead. No more calls from your brother asking for money nor threats from your mother to fly you back. He could legitimize your citizenship with marriage... maybe even a beautiful child. His family may push back, but he doubted they could disown their only son.

Yuki didn't like the way his reflection look, so he put those thoughts away only for them to come spilling out when you were vague about "regret". He hated that he couldn't contain his perversion for long - the desire for you to suffer enough that you would fall into his arm was a poison he wanted to seal away, but alas he didn't have any self control after all. He was just like the new brat that fawned over you, eager to gnaw and rip at your edges.

__

You didn't care for Lukas' begging eyes when he sat at the corner of your room, far away from you. "Go back to your room", you said for the second time yet, "you must feel less cold by now". Around him wrapped the gigantic towel you found in your bathroom, the one he asked for when you made the dumb mistake of worrying enough to say "are you cold". He looked down shamefully when he whispered "can I be here? I'm afraid of thunders."

You didn't buy it. No way a man this grown would be so scared of thunder. Your face scrunched up as you leaned against the bedside drawer, your arms taking the warmth of the lamp. He wanted to be near you, that much was obvious, but you didn't quite expect this display of pathetic pleading. You wondered if he ever tried it before and if he did, if it worked. You didn't like it.

"Lukas... look, I think you're drunk. Go get changed and sleep it off. I won't tell anyone that you're scared of thunders, okay?"

You felt like you were talking patiently to a pet that would not quite get your idea but may get your tone.

"No, I'm not drunk."

At that, you rolled your eyes and chuckled wryly, finding a twinge of amusement in your annoyance.

"I don't want to make you uncomfortable", you tried to talk again, even slower this time, "but this isn't a good look, no? You and I in here... people will talk."

"Nobody is coming, you know?"

His voice was firm now, and much more sober than you expected. Your eyes snapped back at him who returned the favor, awfully calm now. At least you got your confirmation - he wasn't afraid. Never was.

"I'm sorry?"

"Nobody is coming. Not with this storm."

At that, he stood up, the towel slipping off him. Lukas did not stumble when he walked over to you, his footstep quiet and slow the same way a cat walked when it saw a bird perching somewhere in a backyard bush. You didn't find it threatening at all, though. Unlike a helpless starling, you knew what to do.

When he reached you and the modest distance forced you to push against the cold wall, you let out a tired scoff.

"I'm sorry if I ever gave you the wrong idea, Lukas, but I'm not interested in you that way. Please, just leave, and we can pretend that this never happened."

"I don't want to do that."

His voice was soft now, his warm breath brushing your cheek. He did not raise an arm. Neither did you. You didn't want it to come to violence.

"You're overstepping."

"What are you gonna do about it?"

You smiled bitterly, getting weary of his stupid games. Deciding not to escalate the situation, you looked away. He didn't let your lack of reaction stop him from adding to his stupidity:

"Really, what are you going to do? Do you realize what's happening right now?"

You couldn't help but laughed in his face. He didn't find it so funny. Perhaps you insulted his masculinity? They usually hated it when you did that. Curiously, the look he had on right now did not seem like one of anger or lust. He seemed eager... for what, you were not quite sure.

"I'm warning you", you bluntly said, dropping the smile completely, "you still have this chance."

"Seems like you gave me plenty of chances so far."

Your blood boiled. You didn't know from where he got the idea that this was endearing or sexy. This sucked, and you were getting impatient by the minutes. Your right eye twitched, and you could feel the corner of your mouth pulling into a nasty scowl. Getting hot from your anger, you let the way his eyes widen in expectation escape you.

"This isn't funny, Lukas."

"Isn't it?"

His hands reached to you. Instinctively dodging it, you found yourself trapped between him and the wall as he laid his palms to the side of your head, his heap of black hair tickling your forehead. He grinned smugly, baring his white teeth.

"I find it very funny...", he cooed, lifting his hand to try and touch your neck.

You decided that that was enought. Grabbing his wrist and pulling it, you forced his body down and landed your knee on his chest, hard. Lukas let out a pained groan and fell forward, collapsing to your feet. As you stepped over him to get away, you couldn't help but wonder if his body was limp from the alcohol, or if he never intended to fight back. You watched his back while he pitifully trembled, hand clutching where you hit him.

"Get the fuck out", you coldly demanded. He didn't say anything for a moment, still heaving from the shock.

You planned to grab him by the scuff of his stupid button down and drag him out. Before you could, you heard your doorbell ring.

Blood turning cold, you let your eyes dart between Lukas and the door, wondering how to deal with the situation. You didn't even stop to think who could be coming to you at this hour, in this weather. The silence hung in the air, heavy and thick. It seemed forever until you heard a voice trying to get to you past the storm.

"Please, if you don't mind... Would you let me in?"

Yuki.

If anyone would understand, it would be him. You felt a burst of relief exploding in your chest as you rushed to let him in. Your hands had reached the handle and cracked the door open when Lukas, still in pain, had managed to crawl on all four and throw himself at you, his wet arms clinging around your leg as Yuki stared in horror. "Help me", you choked out and swung the door open wide, letting Yuki in along with the rainfall. Under you, Lukas had broken down into sobs.

"Please... don't go. I will be good."

[blingblong55]

Monstrance Clock-141 NSFW

A/N: imagine getting Ciriced by Price?? oh my days would I go feral

Based on a request:

What about nameless ghoul!Ghost whose a quintessence ghoul and the rest of 141 are ghouls too? Price is a like Copia but was raised with ghouls that’s why his ghouls listen they’re a pack

--- F!Reader, ghost band au, nameless ghoul!141, Papa emeritus!Price, photographer!reader, rock band au, smut, MDNI, 18+, blowjob so..oral!sex, Fem giving, slapping ---

A/N: Did I give them the classic, mountain, dewdrop and aether names? maybe I did…maybe I didn't…also I lied about this not being smutty…not sorry

The band Ghost is essentially one of the best rock bands to rise to fame for how good the vocals are, the act, the way the rituals(shows) exist, the ghouls and the lead singer. The perfect combination for all those who are into theatrics and rock. You happen to find yourself in the mix, being the photographer who follows along for all rituals. Tonight, performing for the best crowd, you find yourself roaming the stage as the men of the band practice the setlist for tonight. John walks in, a smirk on his lips as he knows how many women will be dying to get Ciriced by him. The ghouls walk on stage, maskless and already fucking around with the equipment.

"Oh hello, bonnie," Soap goes for the immediate hug and kiss on the cheek combo. Trying to win a spot as the favourite. Gaz and Ghost, how ironic, smoking at the edge of the stage. "Right boys, let's start by this," Price begins his meeting, guiding them and letting them know that tonight, they better bring their best behaviour, which in their case is being horny on stage and teasing all those in attendance. Dewdrop Ghoul, being Soap was instructed to make his sexual dance moves for when Mummy Dust comes on. Gaz, being named by fans as Rain Ghoul was instructed to later on the show come to the front of the stage and pretend to take over for Soap. Quintessence or Aether Ghoul as most fans call him was instructed to be cheeky alongside Soap. Papa Emeritus is as horny as can be when he kneels and makes fans want to indulge in his sins.

A/N: here me out, Farah is Cirrus, Alex is Swiss, and because here I like to fuck around with canons, König is Mountain and for shits and giggles, Kate is Cumulus…

"R/N, make sure to also record and take pictures of Gaz for the girls and boys," Price winks and walks off stage, getting ready for his Papa suit to be put on. Ghost walks to you, his arm draped over your shoulder as he and the other men look at the empty stadium. "We made it big time, no?" Soap asks and all of you nod. After some talk, the men begin to practice the set list, tuning their instruments and perfection notes for later tonight.

The religious groups outside, calling them and you Satanists only fed the fans that awaited the show. "C'mon, little ghoul, let's go get ready," Gaz takes your hand and walks off stage with you. "This man is trying to steal her from us?" Soap asks to which Ghost shakes his head. "Can't blame him for trying, although I know I'm her pick."

Later in the evening, you walk the halls of the stadium, photographing the ghouls making a shit show as they got energised for the ritual. Price taking photos with young fans and then walks to you, "Ready for a little bit of rock, little one?" His hand is on your waist as he guides you down the hall. "Ghouls, c'mon," he makes sure to not say names as young fans walk by. The way the stadium filled with signs, fans dressed as Papa or the ghouls, feeding the ego of the rockstars.

As the men posed for photos, and the casual candid ones you took, you got the now iconic photo of the Ghouls, touching each other all as Aether Ghoul flipped you off. Their masks, provoke even the holiest of men or women in the crowd to sin with them tonight.

The walk to the stage is fast, all running to their positions as you hurry to the front of the stage, photographing fans, handing out guitar picks and then preparing for when the time arrives. And just as you positioned your camera, Imperium begins to play, the shadows of them through the curtains excite fans. The lights out as the ritual begins. Kaisaron next as the three Ghouls go to the front of the stage, almost leaning on each other as their guitars make a beautiful melody. They go back to their positions and Price comes out. Papa Emeritus, to the stage front, as he begins to sing, the crowd wild and calling for him. You photograph the night away.

Cirice comes on and the three dancing Ghouls find a girl or man to mess with. The way they reached for them, how the fans went wild and before the man or woman could touch them, they would back away and continue playing. Papa, Ciriced the lucky girl that night, the same girl who had a guitar pick thrown to her cleavage. You smile as you watch the men get glorified like clothed porn stars. The music was sung between Papa and the fans, an experience most will never forget.

'He is' begins to play, some people sing to it, and some listen and adore it. You watch as the Ghouls become more calm. The lights are dark as they only shine on Price. Some became emotional, others whistled and cheered. Once finished, Price begins his speech. "New York, we will play a very heavy song next, do you want to hear it?" The crowd cheers. Soap chuckles as women make obscene gestures to him and he of course feeds them with his gestures. Once 'Mummy Dust' was announced to play, he and the other two men went to the front of the stage, each holding the gaze of the wave of people.

"Join us now, in Mummy Dust," Price said and began to excite the crowd. The three men grind on the other as they begin to play. Once separated, the men grind their hips to their guitars, Soap sticks his tongue out as he showcases his piercing. Price with his sexual moves as he pretends to stroke his microphone and spread the 'cum' on those present. His back arches as he plays pretend on an orgasm. Towards the end of the song, Soap goes to Ghost, begins to lick his side of the neck and watches the fans as they both play their guitars and begin the new wave of horniness in the stadium.

It was towards the end of the show when 'Ritual' began to play. "We know it's getting late, so we will leave you with our last little ritual here." He moved to Gaz's side of the stage. "But you better make this count, so make noise, New York!" The music began and the Ghouls began their blasphemous dance moves. You take the opportunity and take more pictures, Ghost posing for them all and even touching himself for you. You shake your head and he shrugs.

"Come closer," he says to you, which you do and he takes a puff from his vape and blows it in your face. "Good girl," he touches himself once more and walks back to Gaz. Ritual, enticing more provocative moves from Soap. He leans on Gaz as his fingers tease his thighs and chest. Fans go wild as the men do this. As the song comes to its end, Price speaks to the fans. "New York, you have been lovely, but we aren't done yet, you know." The crowd cheers, feeding his ego. "We don't leave you with shitty endings, we believe in good endings!" He looks around. "Now, New York, if I want you to promise me that tonight, you'll go home and do one thing," He turns to you and from under his mask he smiles. His gaze back on the fans as he continues, "Give yourself and, or someone dear to you or close to you and orgasm tonight, yes?" The crowd cheers again. You chuckle. "Good, no we will do one last song now."

He walks closer to the edge of the stage, "Coincidentally, this song is about happy endings, specifically how to achieve one female happy ending." He points to you and some other female fans amongst the crowd. "Before we go, we will all sing loud and clear, you hear me. A song to celebrate the female Orgasm! In the name of Satan." He raises his arm and the crowd, specifically the women cheer. 'Monstrance clock' begins to play.

The night went well, the Ghouls all bowed at the end of the night and threw guitar picks and even caught a few closed rubber boxes and bras. You walked backstage and Gaz was the first, yet again to keep you away from the rest.

The halls filled with the crew, running as they kept the stadium ready for the next day. The rest of the Ghouls ran down the hall; some played football and others smoked as they rested their bodies. The other photographers captured images for later use, Price walking around with his cigar, posing for the cameras. Gaz walks with you, "Did you see that little hip movement I did? Well, that was for you, darling," he kisses your cheek and before you can respond, Ghost and Soap take you away. Claiming you and your little camera for the night.

A/N: okay, maybe I am horny as I write this next part but fuck off because you are a masked man's slut too and we both probably have a thing for being fucked in front of a camera…love you! <3

They take you to their dressing room and sit you down. "What will the picture be this time?" You asked as they looked at each other. "Oh, not a picture this time, love. It'll be you and our fat cocks in your mouth, so open that pretty mouth and be a good slut," Ghost commands. Soap makes you get on your knees and forces your mouth open. He spits in your mouth along with Ghost and they make you swallow it. "Good girl, R/N," Ghost slaps your face a few times and then Soap begins to record. You'd be lying if you said you didn't want this, or to have Gaz and Price included. They didn't need groupies, not when your body can take three cocks and your hand or tits can take the other one.

Their thick and heavy cocks slap your face. You stick your tongue out and let Soap's fat cock open your mouth wide open. Ghost strokes himself, and then as he grows desperate for attention, he takes your hand and forces you to stroke him. Soap spits on Ghost's dick and watches as his bandmate groans. Your eyes teary as you gag and get forced to keep Soap's cock in your tiny mouth. Whatever couldn't fit in your mouth, Ghost helped by stroking it. The camera focused on you well you took Soap's cock. Your moans are muffled as you feel Ghost pinch your hard nipples.

Soap's cock was covered in pre-cum and your drool. When he pulls out, you gasp a little and before you can breathe properly, Ghost's fat cock spreads your mouth open again. Your teary eyes looking at his. His hips grind as he pushes your head further into his cock. You gag and he groans. Soap records as you take it full, your throat abused by him, his tip too deep in your throat by now. Your cries and mewls feed him more as he grips your head and keeps you in place.

"Just like that, stay like that. Good…good girl-fuck…oh baby~" Ghost moans as he feels his cum fall all in your mouth. He slaps you when you try and pull away. "Bad fucking girl," he slaps you again and again until you stop fighting. Soap laughs as you keep stroking his cock, the way you became so submissive to them, only making him get hornier and ready for the next show where he will tease you more than ever.

Once Ghost pulls out, he gives you a kiss and cleans his cock on your face. Price and Gaz open the door and smirk, "Hm, well if it isn't our little slut." One nod from him and Ghost and Soap leaves the room, the camera left in the corner as Price cleans your face. "Get on your knees, doll," he whispers. Gaz undoes your clothes and slaps your ass a few times. The night only getting started for your tight holes.

A/N: and here it is my horny children…now I must go and write angst...goodnight. Also, I kinda want to do more m!reader smuts so please pookies, give me ideas

tags: @urmajestyzel @kateluni @kit-kats06 @sp4c3k1ngjup1t3r @unicorngirly1 @scarletdfox @literallylovered @hades-aldrenn @aethelwyneleigh27 @spiderlilytengu @ghostslillady @agentkeegan @undercover-smutlover @driedsage @liyanahelena

[red-riding-wood]

Saltwater Tears

@runnning-outof-time K... Tumblr ate your ask when I saved it to my drafts so I apologise for the shitty screencap (I always take these beforehand in case it does this lol). And thank you for the request. <3 As I promised, I brought all the angst.

Also, while writing this, the character/reader reminded me of the song Dragonslayer by Lana Del Rey (Isa, you have ruined me) so I decided to use that as some added inspiration.

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x F!Reader

Fandom: Peaky Blinders

WARNINGS: Angst, sexual references, mentions of cheating, language

WC: 1816

Thomas’ words still echoed through your throbbing skull, no amount of his haughtiness lost on your memory as you trudged through the rain slicked streets. The coldness of his gaze was blazoned on the forefront of your mind, the flippancy with which he had dismissed you after the tense meeting with your father as if you were merely a trophy to flaunt before shelved to suffocate in a slow build of dust.

And with each step, your lungs seemed to constrict tighter. With each step, you remembered bits and pieces of the evidence you’d found of his infidelity – the unfamiliar hair brush on his bedside table, the smell of another woman’s perfume on his sheets. You hadn’t wanted to believe it, hadn’t found your suspicion to be unbearable until now.

He called your name past the roar of the storm, but it only drove the spike in your heart deeper each time, your tears mingling with the cold of the rain and your body shuddering from head to toe.

And yet, every time your name was uttered, you couldn’t help but falter, your bleeding heart beating for him and some cruelly human part of your mind urging you to turn back and let yourself fall into arms that would be so warm in the cold, that would soothe the bitterness in your burning veins.

You jumped back, a sheet of filth drenching the skirt of your dress. A shiver seemed to travel to the very marrow of your bone, and as you stopped, staring in shock at the car that sped by and the road you had nearly stepped across, your heart felt as if it were about to split your ribcage in half.

“Y/N.” A gravelly yet distant voice called to you so soft now, a warm breath on your neck sending another shiver to your aching bones. You turned, slowly, and swallowed your grief as you met Thomas’ piercing eyes. Once his touch grazed the bare of your arm, it was over. You weren’t going anywhere.

“Let’s talk about this,” he said, catching his own breath as his fingers travelled down the length of your arm and laced with your own that shivered, numb, from the cold.

That was the first time you had ever heard Thomas Shelby suggest you talk about anything, and it pulled at an aching heart.

“Okay. Let’s talk,” you breathed, voice nearly washed away by the roar of the storm. You blinked fiercely, lashes fluttering in the rain that struck them. “You never told me your history with my father.”

“It’s in the past,” Thomas said, and you nearly winced at his words. As his other hand reached to brush the hair slicked to your cheek, you flinched away. And like that, your bleeding heart came undone, and you said, “Really, that little pissing match was ‘in the past’? The entire purpose of that meeting was just to rub his nose in the fact that you fucked me.”

Thomas’ hand seemed to catch in the air, not used to this side of you. The side of you that was bitter, that was fed up.

And he didn’t say anything. But his fingers loosened from yours.

You choked back a sob, and your words came weaker now, and you stammered over them because you couldn’t believe what you were saying, didn’t want to imagine him answering. “Did you… did you ever… Do you really want me? Or is this your way of getting back at my father?”

All your life, you’d been taken advantage of by men who wished to grow closer to your family for their ties and their power. And while your father had many enemies – the Blinders included – you never could have imagined that someone would pretend to love you just to hurt him, let alone the one person who seemed to understand you, who’d offered you some ounce of reprieve in this unforgiving city.

You’d been used many times, but this, this was different. It would’ve hurt less had you stepped onto that road.

Thomas was still silent, chest heaving as he panted out his own breaths. Blue eyes twisted with grief, the bright of them taking your reluctant mind through memories of the pastel sky above the two of you as you rode through the countryside, of the dress he had bought you and had said did not compare to your beauty.

Your fingers bunched the drenched fabric of the very same dress, peeling wretched garment from your flesh as if it caged you to such memories. You tried not to think of all the times you’d worn it for him, that it had been discarded across the same bed that had been inhabited by other women.

“I know about her,” you added bitterly. “Or them. I know about them.” Your eyes bled tears, and your heart pumped venom. “I’ve lied to myself for too long,” you said, as you began to turn away. “Goodbye, Thomas.”

“They were just business.”

You halted, anger flaring from the raw ache of your heart, and you spun on your heel. “So you’re using them, too?” you snapped. “Everything is business with you, Thomas. Everything. Even me.”

“You’re not just business.” He took a step forward. “You’re the best thing that ever happened to me.”

It seemed as if your heart hadn’t broken enough. At his words, it shattered in your chest.

“Y/N, I want you,” he said. “And I don’t say it enough, but I love you. It was never about your father.”

“What was it about, then?” Your voice shook and you fought against every basic instinct to draw him in close, to press your chin to his chest and hear his own heart beating for yours.

He shook his head, lips parted but not speaking, as if at a loss for words. You were about to turn away again, when he took another step forward, his hot breath fanning against your cheeks. “That first time you asked me to take you to the ocean. And fuck me, I nearly didn’t say yes.” The faintest of chuckles broke his speech, the rare chuff of his laughter clawing at your aching chest. “But when you caught the wind in your hair it was like you came alive.”

Past the damp of the rain you could smell the sea, could nearly taste the saltwater on your lips when he’d kissed you that day. The last of your worries had melted away in the heat of that kiss, had been swept away by the breeze and carried far offshore. Or so you had thought.

“And you made me feel alive,” he said, his hands cupping your cheeks now. You were paralysed, at his mercy, leaning into his touch and inhaling the scent of horses and gunpowder past the rain. “For the first time since the war.” 

Breaths exchanged, and you tilted your head so that his lips brushed your forehead instead, and you said, “Why don’t you say things like this to me more?”

“I don’t know. But I can. Just come back to me.” His fingers wrapped around the back of your neck as if to trap you. You’d never heard him so desperate. It nearly made you do exactly what he asked.

As if that wasn’t what you yearned for. As if you wouldn’t do anything to forget all of this and go back to that day by the sea, or under the pastel blue sky on the back of a racehorse.

“I want to.” You could hear his heart beating now, thundering like the hooves of one of his horses as you uttered your truths into the dampened fabric of his shirt. “And I want to believe you. But I don’t know if I should.”

“Come back inside,” he breathed against your hair.

“I don’t know if my heart can take this, Thomas.” You tore yourself away, practically shoving him off while avoiding his gaze. “I don’t know if I can go through this again if you’re lying…”

“I’m not lying. Look at me. Look at me.” Firm fingers swept beneath your chin and forced your gaze to his.

“If I make you feel so alive, why do you keep killing me, slowly? Why do I keep watching you drift from me?” As if you were taken by that ocean. Your saltwater lips trembled around your words.

They were questions you’d been burning to ask for a long time now. Questions you’d buried beneath your own lies that you told yourself, like how you’d buried your anguish beneath the sands of the beach only to feel it slam once more against your chest, harder, more forceful than anything you’d known.

You couldn’t take it anymore, not as each second of silence that dragged by killed a piece of you. “You can’t answer. And if I come back to you, it’s going to keep happening.” You spoke past the rising sand in your throat until it came out as a whimper, and you shook your head helplessly, and you realised that it was your tears that you could taste on your tongue, not the ocean. “I’m so torn, Thomas.”

“I’ll flip a coin,” he said, digging into his pocket. “Heads, you trust me. Tails, you walk away.”

Those words might as well have been the last nail in your coffin. They’d sealed your fate, at one time. When he’d asked you to work for him. When you knew the moment the silver caught the wink of light that he would be your undoing no matter what it landed on.

“Not everything can be solved with a coin,” you protested, the bitter taste of betrayal on your tongue.

“Remember, it will tell you what you want. Remember when – “

“I remember, Thomas.” It was all coming crashing down on you just like the rain that pelted your shivering body, and you closed your eyes, your tears achingly warm as they bled across your cheeks.

“Watch.”

“No – “

The coin was a watery vision as it came down in the air, your lashes peeling open and lips parting in terror. Whatever it landed on, it was over. Either he’d kill you slowly or you’d die here, tonight; you’d never be the same. Your fate had always been sealed.

He snapped the coin shut in his hand. You met his eyes, your own fear reflected in their bright blues. And you realised that neither of you wanted to look. And so, tentatively, you asked,

“What is it?”

Slowly, he opened his hand. Slowly, you both looked at the coin. And slowly, the shards of your heart weighed so heavy in your chest that you felt as if you’d collapse to your knees.

But the answer wasn’t what crushed you. It was the realisation that, despite what the coin said, despite knowing what was best for you, you just…

… you couldn’t.  

A.N. I'm leaving the ending ambiguous and it's up to you if the coin landed on heads or tails!

MASTERLIST • REQUEST

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