#and i shall embrace it gladly

[fluerallinmylis]

*Insane Giggling*

I made a uquiz that will guess your fandom age based on your answers!

[rockingbytheseaside]

✦ How they hold you in bed when sleeping

Pierro, Capitano, Dottore, Scaramouche, Pantalone, Tartaglia (separate) 

When the stars are perched in the night sky, and the world becomes wrapped in a still blanket of darkness - there is no better action than departing to your safe space, the coziness of your bedroom, and the safety of your beloved’s body next to you. The lights are dimmed and after a warm shower and a change into comfy pajamas, your beloved is met with a tender sight of your sleepy figure. It is time for rest, and with his arms open, beckoning you to hop into his embrace - you join him in bed at last. 

✧ A single glance from Pierro and his eyes would instantly soften upon seeing your sleepy expression. The Director of the Fatui doesn’t require any questions or even verbal communication to know that something is troubling you. Your solemn gaze and slumped shoulders tell him more than enough - and his heart aches in response. Silently but gently, he pulls you closer, his star-shaped pupils seeking answers from your own. 

“My divine one... A long day?” - he whispers, his hand lifting your chin to make you look at him. You don’t directly respond, but nod and press your lips into a thin line. Pierro sighs, yearning to vanquish all your worries and pain. But sometimes, words are superfluous.

“Do not fret your little heart. No harm shall come, for I am here, my divine. Shall I take you to bed, instead?” 

With a small nod and a timid glance from you, Pierro spoke no further. He knew what you required on such solemn nights as these, and instead, allowed his arms to pick you up, carrying your fatigued figure in his bigger embrace. He pulled you closer, his cheek gently grazing your face as he whispered soothing words and brought you to bed. 

He tucked you in, the king-sized bed bringing the familiar sensation of silky sheets and warm covers. He kisses your forehead with careful and slow deliberation before accompanying you to sleep.    

When Pierro sleeps beside you, he is often silent, but his gaze never leaves your figure. He’d lay on his side, gazing at your face as if it were the stars and the moon itself. Even within the dimness of the room, he has memorized the outline of your face, the soothing rhythm of your breathing, the contour of your figure. With one hand around you, you two slept peacefully, the troubles of the world left behind. Even the Fatui’s Director required solace, and this solace he would locate only in your tender arms; his sanctuary. 

✧ Il Capitano has memorized your routine. Take a shower, get ready for bed, and most importantly, sleep on top of him as if his body were a sturdy mattress. It’s not your fault your cherished is so much taller and bigger, right? Well luckily for you, he absolutely adores it when you climb on top of him, resting your head on top of his chest and legs around his hips. Your smaller figure clad tight around him like a loving weighted blanket while he slept on his back. His hands would gladly squeeze you, loving your softness against his toned physique. 

“You don’t mind my weight on top of you, Cappy?” - you’d often ask every night before bed, peeking at him with that tender worry that made the Harbinger melt in an instant. Capitano would continue to hold you, his sharp fingers tracing circles gently on your hips or your back.

“Dearest, I have carried heavier weights that quadruple you in size. If you were to bother me, would I be pulling you back to my arms whenever you toss and turn?” 

And thus, with the seal of approval from the honorable Captain, you’d smile triumphantly and sleep on him. That’s just how the two of you were: Capitano was a beast in size, slept still, and barely moved when on his back. Conversely, you were smaller in size, slept very lightly, and often turned or wrestled with the covers. Even when you had the spacious bed to your leisure, you always chose to sleep tightly clinging to him. And Capitano revered every second of it as if it was the biggest honor in his duty as your protector. Truly, an honorable knight protecting your dreams. 

✧ Sharing a bed with Il Dottore is a toil. If you managed to miraculously drag him out of his lab, he’d groan and argue that he has important research to do, that your concern for his sleep schedule is ‘childish’. Yet the moment he settles in bed, he becomes a menace to your sanity: 

“Are you coming to bed or not?” 

“Come here, closer.” 

“No, you are pushing around.”

And the cherry on top of it all? He’d stare at you during the entire night, maskless. You know he doesn’t easily fall asleep, even on days when he overexhausted himself in his experiments. So naturally, his method to relax is to press the side of his head tightly against your chest and just remain glued to you with the sound of your heartbeat being his salvation. You’d assume it is an adorable sight… until you’d open your eyes in the middle of the night, only to notice a piercing, red lens just gawking at you. Motionless and still, he just wore that neutral expression while being pressed to your chest.

“...Uh, are you going to just stare at me in the dark?” - you whispered in the dark, to which he won’t even move or change his expression.

“43 beats per minute.” 

You blinked sleepily - “... wha-” 

“Your heart beats approximately 43 to 50 beats per minute when you sleep. That’s anywhere between 20640 to 24000 beats for 8 hours of sleep.” 

It was your turn to gawk at him, albeit in confusion. His nonchalant yet stoic reply told you that he was, indeed, very focused on counting each and every beat of your heart while you slept. He remained pressing his ear to the middle of your chest, arms wrapped around your waist tightly. 

“Dottore, have you not slept this entire time…?” 

“Shush, stop speaking,” - he whispered more gently, pressing his face into you in a rather touchy manner as if you wouldn’t notice. “I am still counting. Your heart rate is increasing to 81 bpm.” 

“If you won’t go to sleep this instance I won’t make any Ajilenakh Cake tomorrow.”

As such, silence dominated the dark bedroom once more. The doctor said no more and settled on hiding his face against your body, not daring to admit that he loved your desserts. And even more, not daring to acknowledge that your heartbeat lulled him to sleep. To deny his infatuation with every beat of your pulse would be a lie, and to deny his longing to physically hold you close would be ignorance. So he settled to silently counting your heartbeat until succumbing to dreamless slumber. 

✧ Scaramouche didn’t require sleep. Everyone knew that. Regardless, your persuasion with the 6th knew no bounds as you begged and nagged at him relentlessly to remain beside your bedding. He would audibly scoff and cross his arms at your ridiculous request. 

“My body does not need rest for 8-something hours. Why should I even waste such precious time with you while you’re the one unconscious?” 

However, no matter how much Scaramouche put up the cold front and rolled his eyes, he wasn’t immune to your ingratiating puppy eyes or gentle tugging whenever you asked something of him. You’d always embrace him from the side, asking him softly to stay a little longer as you depart for the night. He, of course, would refuse and cut your answers short, but his actions told a different story. He was already tucking you in; making sure the futon was neatly laid and the covers warmly wrapped around you while he sat kneeling beside you. He just had to make a fuss first:

“To even insinuate such foolish proposition… You must be truly bored out of your mind.”

You’d only chuckle in response, smiling whenever he made sure your room was tidy and secure for your nightly rest. But even then, you’d reach for his hand, and whisper: 

“... Just stay for a while longer. At least until I fall asleep, okay?” 

Same scoff. Same attitude. But The Puppeteer never left. He always stayed beside you, despite his arrogant rebuttals that you quickly learned were nothing about. He’d either sit leaning beside you, keeping a silent company, or telling you obscure stories he heard from Inazuma or the Abyss. And at times, Scaramouche would remain kneeling by your futon even after you had fallen asleep. 

Your breathing was slow and steady, but he was almost afraid to lean any closer. All bickerings he displayed before were gone, and like a porcelain puppet, Scaramouche would find himself frozen in place, hypnotized by your soothing breathing. He just gazed at you, as if you were a distant star within the dark sky, the palliative breaths emitting from you told him that you were safe. You are here. 

And it was from you he learned how gentle breaths are emitted by those deemed “alive”. How your breathing fluctuates in different moments of your life: energetic when happy, hitched when disturbed, and peaceful when asleep. Strangely, this mundane motion of your chest falling and rising worked like a lullaby to Scaramouche. 

Alas, he now condemns himself for not caressing your face all these times he watched you sleep. A lonesome Wanderer sat alone, an empty futon beside him. Your familiar presence lacking, and he won’t hear your tranquil breaths. You are not here.  

✧ Your dear Pantalone had a fundamental habit before bed. He’d set his glasses aside, hair tied up, and go through his skincare routine right before bed. His hands diligently yet delicately wash all the apprehension and professionalism from his face. But the most important part? Trash talk with you about what happened at his work, while he focused on his reflection in the mirror.

“Could you believe that dear?” - the 9th called out to you from the bathroom, his brows frowning in displeasure. The man continued to cleanse his face. “Those insolent aristocrats offered another bribe under the table, thinking that would change my final statement.” 

You responded with a faint “Mhm,” back at him. 

“And then! The tasteless bastard dared to ask that some of their reports be delayed because he will pay twice, as long as no one checks for quality control. I mean, the audacity of some of those high-society morons!” 

“Right, right” - you murmured faintly from the bedroom. 

Pantalone massaged his cheekbones, making sure his face was as affluent as his taste and status. He adjusted his robe, still rambling with the same frustrated passion. “They think that just because they’re doing business with me, negotiating with a high sum of bribes would lead to a guaranteed deal with the Fatui. Ugh.” 

This time, there was no response from you. The bedroom was awfully silent, despite the night lamp still shining. 

“Honey?” - Pantalone called gently. 

Silence. The Regrator stepped out of the bathroom, a curious look on his face, until his eyes spotted you in bed, asleep. His expression immediately softens, all quarrels and gossip forgotten. It seems that his late-night rambles about work have thrilled you so much that you, obviously, dozed off. You didn’t even turn off the lights or get under the covers yet.  

Pantalone couldn’t help but smile softly. You two had a long day, anyway. He quietly finished his preparations for bed, changed into comfortable nightwear, and stepped closer to your side. With a delicate touch, he made sure you were tucked in properly, giving you the usual good night kiss on the forehead and tucking your hair away from your face. The man dimmed the lights before he two took his rightful place in bed beside you. 

Whatever quarrels troubled his mind now - didn’t matter. What mattered was that he had your comforting presence beside him in bed. As he slowly spooned your sleeping figure, Pantalone let out a sigh of relief, letting his head rest by the crook of your nape. Only then, did the Regrator feel his body go into ease, feeling the tranquil silence settle upon the room. Thus, the two of you slept warmly; Something that Pantalone would never trade for any riches or gold. 

✧ Ah yes, Tartaglia, his sweetheart, and their 50,000 Mora five-foot tall Morax plushie. Childe remained lying on his back, his expression far from pleased. Ever since he returned from his mission in Liyue, he gifted you this massive dragon plushie. A plushie that became his mortal enemy. His tormentor. His replacer. 

The 11th frequently brought souvenirs back home in Snezhnaya. Liyuan tea sets, Inazuman dresses, or Fontainian gadgets. All for your spoiling, and the joyous smiles from his siblings. One of such missions, he returned home with several cute toys and plushies, just for you and Teucer. He is not beating the “Greatest Toy Seller” allegation anytime soon, but he was certain that the gigantic Morax would be a lovely choice for you. 

How naive he was. 

The plushie was almost your entire height, yet you held onto it with utter delight when he gave it to you. You hugged and squeezed it with love, finding the fluffy geo archon the cutest thing ever. And thus, here you were. In bed, not hugging your boyfriend, but hugging the massive Morax plushie. 

It became a common occurrence. At first, Childe chuckled at your adorable antics whenever you brought his gift with you in bed. But then it became more apparent that you would rather turn your back to him, and just fall asleep while embracing the plushie. Childe swallowed his pride. It’s just a plushie, he bargained with himself. But then he would stare daggers that that innocent, fluffy-looking Morax. How dare it be the one receiving your love, while you adorably squeezed or fell asleep on it.

It should’ve been him! 

Therefore, one night, he took matters into his own hands. Tartaglia sat up silently in bed, and by mustering all his skills in stealth, he sneakily pulled the Morax plushie away from your grasp while you slept soundly. He was slow, and careful so as not to wake you up; and boy, tugging that five-foot plush was no easy task. Once it was away from your arms, Childe grinned in triumph… and threw the toy aside. The enemy has been neutralized.  

Next step - carefully pulling you closer to him. You were already in deep sleep, so of course, you didn’t feel when your beloved naturally embraced you in bed. Shh, no one will know he was jealous of a silly toy. He was just a concerned boyfriend, who needed to bury his face onto the crown of your head and relish your warmth. 

The next morning, you woke up feeling warm and pressed to your dear Ajax, who was particularly cuddly that morning. 

“Oh no, how did my Morax plushie fall to the floor?” 

“Hm? Oh, you must’ve accidentally tossed it away while you slept, dear.” 

[gay-dorito-dust]

I’d die for you.

Viktor:

‘I’d die for you.’

‘Please don’t.’ He says almost pleading with you to reconsider after hearing you say such a thing, to be willing to trade off your own life for his own that was already on borrowed time, so wouldn’t your sacrifice be a waste if he was bound to die regardless?

He came from the undercity where loss was an constant occurrence and survival was the norm. So the idea of loosing you wasn’t one he’d warmly welcome nor want to endure as he’d only bury himself deep within his work, going to such lengths with the off chance that he could theoretically bring you back from the cold embrace of death,

‘You’ve got so much ahead of you Viktor.’ You countered. ‘So much to do to achieve your goal of helping others!’ You add.

Viktor moves to look at you from his workplace with a raised brow. ‘And so you automatically think your life is forfeit in comparison because of this?’ He asks as if to show you just how ridiculous it was to just throw your life away because you believed his dreams for the future outweighed the worth of that of your own life.

You stayed quiet as you could see the disbelief clear within his amber eyes as he grabbed his cane and made his way over to you to hold your hand in his long, slender and calloused ones as they caress the back of your knuckles. ‘For it’s not. No life is more important than the others solely based on what the person can give to others.’ Viktor tells you as sits himself down next to you.

‘Our lives are of equal value and I’d would much rather you’d live for me instead.’ He says with a small smile. ‘Do you think you can do that for me?’ He then asks softly, intertwining your fingers together. You smiled back at him. ‘I can sure try as long as you do too.’ You replied and Viktor let out a sigh of relief, squeezing your hand in thanks.

‘Then we shall live for each other.’ Viktor said but little did you know that he’d be lying and he wasn’t going to be staying very soon.

Ekko:

‘I’d gladly die for you.’

‘No, you wont.’ Those words might’ve come out more harsher than Ekko wanted but he wasn’t about to let you joke about trading your life for his own. He just wouldn’t.

Even now the idea of you being the self sacrificial hero made him feel slightly sick to his stomach. He was the one who should be protecting you, protecting everybody really and once his mind was made up Ekko was more or less an immovable object, never yielding and never budging from his ideals for nothing.

So to say he wasn’t liking the idea of you dying on him was an understatement. He didn’t like it for a plethora of reasons as he’s already lost enough people close to his heart, he wasn’t willing to have you be amongst them, painted on the mural by his own hand as he feels the guilt and grief eat away at his heart. ‘Promise me you won’t be reckless the next time we’re out on a mission.’ He gives you his pinky, something you two did when you were being serious about things.

‘Ekko-‘

‘Promise me you won’t.’ Ekko cuts you off in desperation, his eyes wide and his breathing becoming rapid and uneven the longer you didn’t immediately link pinkies with him like you usually did, it had him feeling as though his heart had dropped to his stomach. ‘I don’t want to loose another person I love.’ He adds and you interlock your pinkies with him before being pulled into his strong embrace where he buried his face into yours neck, not wanting to let go of you after hearing that statement leave your mouth.

‘I’m not ready to say goodbye to you just yet.’ He whispered into your neck, grip tightening on you as he feels you rub his back soothingly. Ekko wasn’t ready for the day he’d have to say goodbye to you and so until that day he’ll keep protecting you until he couldn’t anymore, for he’d rather see you move on forward without him, but if he knew you as well as he did then you would just be equally as stubborn to see him live another day.

So he’ll just keep ahold of you like this everyday when you were alone just to remind himself that you were still here and here you will stay.

Silco (young) :

‘I’d die for you.’

‘Don’t say such things, haven’t we suffered enough?’ He’d say as he has you by your shoulders, his grip tightening in tandem with the idea of possibly loosing you to all sorts of things, whether it’d be Zaun or the corrupt enforcers from topside. Silco wasn’t exactly willing to lose the greatest thing that had ever happened to him.

It was a day he’d never wish to see pass him by as he didn’t know what he would do should he find you dead in the rubble from a something that was purposely intended for him, he’d blame himself and be left to seek solitude in the darkness and shadows should that ever be the case.

‘But it’s true.’ You’d reply.

Silco grits his teeth at your stubbornness but it was one of your defining traits that he deeply adored. ‘Well I’m not going to allow it.’ He retorted. ‘I won’t allow you to hastily throw your life away just because you felt like being a hero.’ He practically spat out the last part as though it were poison. Hero what the hell has being a hero ever done for anyone? Nothing that’s what and Silco would refused you at every time you got like this, not once liking the implications it left within his head.

‘Not a hero, just someone who cares enough about another person to be willing to see them keep living, even if it means dying in the process.’ You defended yourself, crossing your arms over your chest as you continued to look him in the eyes to prove your words true, but you didn’t need to do that for Silco knew well enough you were a person of your word, never once going back on it when you probably should’ve.

‘Heroes don’t exist in Zaun.’ Silco said as he rests his head against yours, looking you in the eyes. ‘So don’t try and be the first for I don’t want to be the one to make your mural. Don’t make me have to leave you behind. Don’t make me mourn for what we could’ve had.’ He pleads with you as you gently hold his face and caress his cheeks, allowing him the chance to rest his eyes and drink you in through your touch.

He didn’t like the idea of you dying before him, not one bit, so he’ll try and make sure that you survive together long enough to see the betterment of Zaun.

[prythianpages]

Out of My Head | Azriel x Reader

Azriel x Reader x Eris | Your father, the Night Court’s astrologer, is called to Velaris and you tag along with the hopes of catching a glimpse of Azriel, the one you’re madly in love with. The opportunity for Azriel to show you around comes up and you take it, unaware that things are about to become messy…

warning: this was meant to be cute & short to show your relationship with Az but it ended up being 5,685 words oops lol, some angst, rhys kinda being an asshole again

a/n: Eris does make an appearance in this if you look closely 🤭 I tried to write this fic off as a stand alone so it's still easy to follow but if you need more context, here is the masterlist.

Meeting Azriel had felt like fate, as if the stars and his shadows themselves had conspired to cross your paths. Becoming his friend had been a choice. But falling in love with him? That was out of your control, like being swept away by a tide you hadn’t noticed rising. 

Now, you were drowning and happy to drown. To let the flood of him consume you entirely. Every time you’d see him, even from afar, it’d fill your chest with a feeling you couldn’t explain, your heart leaping at the mere thought of catching his gaze.

You welcomed the flood of emotions, let it carry you to depths you’d never dared to explore. Your heart was so irrevocably his, you had no desire to find the surface.

So when Rhysand had invited your father to Velaris to discuss his first born’s birth chart, you insisted on coming along. It had taken days of pleading to wear down his resolve, but you had done it. Manifested it, rather, with the help of the moonwater you kept hidden beneath your bed.

Seeing Azriel was not guaranteed, as you were unsure if he’d even be in Velaris. But that wasn’t the only reason you wanted to go. Leaving behind the harshness of the Court of Nightmares, even for a short while, was reward enough. And if fortune smiled upon you, perhaps your father would let you assist with the reading, just this once.

Your father had never quite embraced your desire to follow in his footsteps.  The way he’d look at both you and your brother with that disappointed gleam in his eyes stung. He had always hoped you would stay at home and learn the ways of a “perfect,” traditional Night Court wife, much like your mother. His dreams of a successor rested squarely on your brother’s shoulders, not yours. But much to his dismay and your relief, your brother had chosen to become a warrior in Keir’s army.

Everything you knew of astrology, you’d learned by sneaking into his sessions, stealing glances at his star charts, or losing yourself in the dusty books of the Night Court’s observatory. That cold, stone-walled tower had become your sanctuary—your only glimpse of the night sky.

Though still in the Night Court, the air in Velaris was different. It felt cleaner, lighter. Freer. A wonderful contrast to the oppressive weight of the Court of Nightmares. You took a deep breath, savoring the rare glimpse of the day sky from the High Lord’s impressive townhouse, your father having just winnowed you both.

The sun felt so warm and soothing against your skin. Too caught up in the beauty of the daytime sky, you didn’t notice when your father abruptly stopped. You walked straight into him, sending the heavy box and stack of books in your arms tumbling to the ground.

A hiss of disapproval escaped your father as he turned to scowl at you.

“I’m sorry,” you mumbled, quickly dropping to your knees to gather the scattered items.

“I should’ve left you at home,” he said with an exhausted sigh.

"But who then would assist you in bearing the weight of all these books, given the state of your back? Rest assured, my arms are more than capable,” you said with a huff as you slowly rose back to your feet, arms overwhelmed with the weight of your father’s things. “I shall gladly bear the burden for you, father."

“Clearly.” Your father said dryly, his gaze pointedly lingering on the dented corner of one of the boxes.

You winced at his tone, grateful his back was turned to you again. The door to the High Lord’s and High Lady’s house opened, the former being the one to greet you. Even Rhysand was different here. His violet eyes gleamed warmly, free of the cruelty he wore like armor in the Court of Nightmares. The smile he sent you both softened some of the tension knotting your chest.

 “Damus, Y/n,” he greeted. “I appreciate you both coming all this way.”

Rhysand gestured for you to follow him. This was not your first time in Velaris but it was your first time meeting Rhysand in a private residence of his here. You couldn’t hold back the small gasp that escaped you as you marveled at the beauty around. Paintings, no doubt crafted by the hands of your High Lady, adorned the wall and there was light. So much light and warmth in this house. It truly felt like a home. No stone walls, no darkness, no cold.

There was a flutter in your chest when you felt something cool and velvet-like brush against your legs. You instinctively glanced down, though the books obstructed your view. And when you looked back up, there it was–that giddy leap in your heart.

Azriel immediately rose from the couch he had been seated on, his hazel eyes meeting yours before they dropped to the weight in your arms. With a few swift steps, he was in front of you, plucking the boxes and books from your grip as though they weighed nothing. You exhaled softly, your thanks barely audible over the rush of blood in your ears.

Azriel smiled, shadows curling gently around him as he shifted closer. “I wasn’t sure you’d be coming along today,” he murmured.

“Neither was I,” you admitted, turning your head toward him as you continued to walk. “But I’m glad I did.”

“So am I,” Azriel said.

Your cheeks burned at his words, and you quickly averted your gaze. Azriel was glad you were here. Perhaps, even waiting for you, hoping for you to show up. That had to mean something, didn’t it? Perhaps it was proof of what you’d always suspected—that the bond you felt pulling you toward him wasn’t one-sided. A spark of vindication flared as you imagined Eris sneering at you from some dark corner of your mind. If only he were here to witness this moment. To see just how wrong he’d been.

Azriel did like you and it was only a matter of time before it evolved into something more.

You frowned, shaking the thought away. Why were you even thinking about Eris? And since when did proving anything to him matter?

“Y/n.” Your father’s sharp tone dragged you back to reality. “The books.”

“Oh,” you breathed, glancing at Azriel, who still held them. Before you could speak, your father’s gaze darkened as he realized the task you were supposed to handle had been passed off.

Azriel’s jaw tightened but he said nothing as he handed the books and boxes over.

You moved to follow your father into the study, but he blocked your path, his glare cutting through you. “Stay here and don’t cause trouble,” he said before the door shut with a resounding thud.

You flinched, staring at the closed door. “Sweet Cauldron,” you muttered under your breath, “did Mercury retrograde move into his mood?”

A shadow curled around your wrist, the soft caress of it soothing the sting of your father’s dismissal. The corner of your lips lifted slightly. Azriel had told you once how the shadows came to him during a time of unbearable darkness, offering comfort when nothing else could. They showed him that darkness wasn’t inherently wicked, that it could hold its own kind of solace and strength.

Azriel had also told you that his shadows didn’t approach others. At least not like this, so openly and friendly. To them, you were one of the few exceptions, having met them before you properly acquainted yourself with their master.

You often wondered why. Did they sense the sorrow you tried to bury beneath and conceal? The longing that seeped into your soul–longing not just for their master but for freedom, for a life beyond the suffocating confines of the Court of Nightmares?

Your gaze lifted, finding Azriel’s attention focused on the tendril wrapped around your wrist. His hazel eyes darkened slightly, thoughtful, as if trying to decipher a mystery.

“Well, what am I supposed to do now?”

Azriel blinked, his attention falling back to you, gaze softening. The siphons on his leathers caught the light and your eye. You followed the movement of his arms as he slid his hands into the pocket of his leathers and wondered what they’d look like in casual clothing. And how far did those tattoos stretch, the ones that peeked above his collar and disappeared into those leathers? 

“We could go for a walk?”

Your brows lifted in surprise. “A walk?”

Azriel sauntered closer to you and a tingly sensation bubbled up in your stomach. “It’s a beautiful day outside and I would hate for you to waste it in here.”

“But my father…”

“He doesn’t have to know,” Azriel replied with a small, sly grin that felt almost boyish, his shadows dancing around him. He then gestured toward the door to Rhysand’s study, where some of his shadows had already slithered beneath the gap, lying in wait.  “Your father will be in there for a while. And besides, I did promise you I’d show you around, didn’t I?”

You bit your lip in contemplation, gaze flickering between the door and Azriel. This was what you’d wanted, been hoping for, wasn’t it? A chance to see Azriel, and now here he was, offering you his time. Your heart leaped at the opportunity, already screaming yes.

But your mind wasn’t so easily swayed. What if your father needed you? Wouldn’t this be your perfect chance to prove your worth, to show him how capable you were? Then again, the way he had dismissed you earlier, slamming the door in your face, made it clear he wasn’t expecting or even wanting your help…

“Only if you’d like, of course,” Azriel added, his tone soft. He must’ve sensed your troubled thoughts. “I can always keep you company here instead.”

The flutter in your chest returned with full force. Azriel seemed to really want to spend time with you. Alone. And as much as you admired the beauty of the High Lord’s house, the promise of fresh air, open skies, and Azriel’s company was too tempting to resist.

You found yourself nodding, your heart overriding your head. “I think I’d like to go for a walk.”

**

Velaris continued to take your breath away. 

Children darted between market stalls, their faces alight with pure delight as they chased one another without fear. So incredibly and unbelievably different to the cold silence and rigid rules of propriety in Hewn City. Here, no one glanced over their shoulder with suspicion or hurried along with their head bowed.

The people of Velaris moved freely. Kindness radiated from strangers who greeted one another warmly, who paused to chat in the bustling markets or helped an elder carry their bags. Artists lined the streets, painting the city’s beauty on canvas while musicians filled the air with beautiful melodies.

Azriel led you through the city, showing you as many places he could. He took you to a small bakery first, where he swore the best chocolate croissants were made. Then, to a cafe that sold a variety of appetizing teas. You drank it all in, committing the wonders of Velaris to memory.

As you walked along a bridge, the river’s gentle current caught your eye. It was broad daylight yet, the water glimmered like liquid starlight. You paused, resting against the bridge’s railings. Azriel moved to stand beside you, tucking in his wings so they wouldn’t bump against you. 

You couldn’t help but think how unfair life could be. For a place such as Hewn City to exist at the same time as this one. Both of the same court, yet so divided. And why had you been born in the wrong one? 

Azriel picked up on the way your expression had fallen. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” you said and at the way Azriel’s eyes watched you closely, you knew he was not convinced. You let out a soft sigh, relenting.  

“It’s just…I thought places like this only existed in my dreams,” you glanced down at your hands. “And now, I just can’t help but dread my attendance at the next Court of Nightmare’s ball even more…when I could be here instead, watching the stars from the City of Starlight itself..free of any worry, any burdens.”

Azriel frowned at the hidden implication of your words.

A dark tendril fluttered toward you, brushing the hair that had fallen back behind your ear. Another softly brushed against your face and wiped a stray tear away. More went to you, wrapping around your hands, seeking to give you comfort and you honestly weren’t sure if it was of their own will or Azriel’s.

Their comfort brought you back to the fateful night you first met them. You’d known of them–of the Night Court’s shadowsinger, at least–long before you actually knew them. The same way you had known Cassian was the Night Court’s leading general and Morrigan, the court overseer.

**

Things had changed after the events under the mountain. High Lord Rhysand had gathered the Court of Nightmares council, a tense meeting filled with bitter accusations thrown across the room. Keir and a few other noble lords, including your father, sat around the table, each one arguing fiercely over who did what under Amarantha’s rule.

As the heated exchange unfolded, your father’s loyalty was questioned, and the words left you unsettled. You had nearly spilled wine over one of the lords in your discomfort, hands trembling as you failed to properly grip the chalice.

But then, a dark shape emerged from the shadows, winding its way around your wrist like a silent guardian. The shadow stayed there, curling around you in such a way that was strangely comforting.

You had snuck glances at the shadowsinger then. 

Azriel stood just behind Rhysand, his face a stoic mask. His attention was elsewhere, either unaware or pretending to be, of the shadow that had strayed from him and wrapped around you.

A break was called. And then, Keir, always the one to provoke, threw an insult at your father. You had no control over your tongue, the words slipping from you without thought. It was in defense of your family but speaking out of turn was a dangerous thing for a female to do. Especially in this court. 

And though you had done it in your father’s defense, he did not return the favor. His face twisted in a mixture of disgust and disapproval, making you feel smaller than you ever had.

Keir’s face reddened with rage and as he glared at you, the shadow around your wrist tightened. Azriel’s eyes flashed, a cold, sharp stare locking onto Keir. It was the closest thing to protection anyone had offered you in this ruthless court. It left you stunned and wide-eyed. 

You had been quickly dismissed by your father then. The weight of your court’s cruelty pressed down on you, suffocating. You fled, finding an empty room, locking yourself away in a cold, lonely corner of the building.

And then the tears came. You didn’t even notice the darkness that had formed around you, so accustomed to the shadows yourself. But this wasn’t the same darkness. This one was… different. Comforting. Protective.

You could only stare at them in awe, one hand reaching upwards to touch the shadows.

But when the door creaked open, your hand fell back to your side. Fear had risen in your throat as your gaze shot to the tall figure in the doorway. You shifted backwards, your back hitting the stone wall behind you, fearing the worst. It was the shadowsinger. And he had come to punish you on behalf of your father.

But he did no such thing.

His eyes swept over the shadows surrounding you—his shadows. The mask of indifference he always wore slipped for just a moment. A faint furrow appeared between his brows, shock flashing in his eyes.

“I’m so sorry,” he murmured, sending the shadows a look that had them slithering back to him, albeit reluctantly. “If they’ve scared you. They don’t normally do this…are you alright?”

You blinked the tears from your eyes. “You’re not going to punish me?”

His brow furrowed deeper, confusion crossing his face. “Punish you? For what?”

There was a flicker of recognition in his gaze, followed by a soft exhale. He studied you for a moment, his expression unreadable. His shadows swirled around him, some curling around his ear, whispering to him. Whatever they whispered to him had his expression softening.

“If anyone needs punishment, it’s Keir. For having the nerve to talk to you like that.”

Azriel took your silence as an invitation. He lowered himself, slowly, attentive to the way your breath hitched. Finding no resistance from you, he flared his wings slightly to allow him to settle on the floor across from you. His boots brushed against your shoes, and he gave a quiet apology. Others had done much worse and yet, no one had ever apologized to you.

“I’m Azriel,” he told you with a small smile, quickly adjusting himself to the cramped space. “You’ve met my shadows. Though I control them, they don’t always listen. Sometimes, they follow their own will. I really hope they didn’t frighten you.”

You were still frozen in disbelief, but in that moment, something inside you shifted. A spark of hope—a spark you hadn’t known existed in the Court of Nightmares, didn’t know could exist.  

“They didn’t. They’re nice,” you admitted quietly, gaze following the movement of his shadows. Your eyes then met Azriel’s, surprised at the warmth you saw in them.

And then slowly, you felt your body relax. “I’m y/n…”

**

A shadow wrapped itself around your wrist, squeezing you gently, pulling you from your thoughts. You couldn’t help but wonder if it was the same one from that night.

“Sorry,” Azriel murmured sheepishly, the same way he always did when his shadows caught him off guard.  “They really like you.”

The shadow unraveled from your wrist, slowly and reluctantly. It returned to Azriel, the others that had begun to surround you doing the same.

“S’okay,” you shrugged, though a small wave of disappointment settled over you at the thought of his shadows acting on their own will and not his. “I like them too. My little friends, they keep me company during those dreaded court events. Them and Eris, though the latter isn’t exactly one I welcome…”

Azriel’s body tensed at the mention of the Autumn male.

“But it’s strange,” you continued, not sure why you were telling Azriel this. “Despite all the insults he throws my way, he’s somehow kinder than all the other males at court. Maybe Autumn males are–”

“Please, don’t ever pair Eris and the word ‘kind’ in the same sentence,” Azriel interjected, his tone filled with disbelief. “You have to be careful around him, Y/n. I don’t know why he gravitates toward you…” Your heart stuttered in your chest and Azriel's gaze hardened. “But he’s not to be trusted. If he continues to bother you…”

Was that… jealousy? The thought made your pulse quicken, but you kept your expression steady.

“He’s fine,” you said, your voice a little too casual. Azriel went still, his eyes widening slightly in surprise. You felt the heat rise in your neck, and you hastily added, “I mean—it's fine. Nothing I can’t handle.”

“Doesn’t mean you have to,” Azriel insisted. He turned to face you fully, and your stomach fluttered at the intensity in his gaze. “I can handle him for you.”  

Azriel’s presence alone was enough to make anyone think twice before crossing you. It sure kept Keir from lashing back at you all those years ago and the handsy, sickening males away from you during court events. You knew he would handle Eris without hesitation. So you should’ve said yes, and accepted his offer. 

But, as the words settled on your tongue, you hesitated. You weren’t sure you wanted him to.

However strange and uncomfortable your encounters with Eris often were, there was something intriguing about him. Something that pulled at you despite his sharp words and caustic demeanor. It was almost like a game, a dance of sorts, and you found yourself drawn to it. To him, more than you cared to admit.

A small part of you wanted to continue this twisted back-and-forth with him. He was not a welcome companion but one whose absence would, much to your denial or disbelief, go noticed. The way he challenged you, made your pulse quicken, even when you didn’t want it to. The way his eyes lingered just a little too long, and how he always seemed to know exactly how to get under your skin…

No. You didn’t want Azriel to step in. Not yet. Not while this strange curiosity about Eris still simmered beneath your skin. 

“I can handle it,” you murmured, though the words felt more like a reassurance to yourself than to him. Your gaze trailed after the fae strolling along the river’s edge. Before Azriel could protest, you turned to him with a smile, changing the conversation. “Can we walk along the shore?”

The Sidra river was even lovelier up-close. With the sun beginning to set, the sky blushed in hues of pinks and oranges and you felt as if you were walking through a dream. A dream you didn’t want to wake up from. Azriel walked quietly beside you, the tension from earlier gone.

You breathed in deeply, reveling in the sweet mixture of fresh air and Azriel’s scent. The sound of water rippling against the shore was just as soothing as the early evening breeze. Your gaze fell on a rock ahead, its smooth surface glimmering in the fading light, and you quickly bent down to pick it up. 

“It’s beautiful,” you murmured, watching as the stone sparkled like starlight cupped in your hand.

“It’s a rock,” Azriel said drily.

You couldn’t help but grin, lifting the rock to show him. “It’s not just any rock,” you corrected him. “It’s a rock from Velaris. It’ll make a perfect addition to my growing collection of–”

“Rocks,” Azriel finished for you, amusement dancing in his eyes.

He knew about your rock collection. Of course, he knew. How could he not? Azriel had been the one to enable it. It had started as a joke, a silly request from you when he had mentioned visiting Spring. You had asked for a souvenir, half expecting him to politely decline.  

"What could you possibly want from Spring?" he had asked. “A rock?”

And out of all the things you could’ve chosen, you had simply nodded your head. “Sure.”

The way he had returned from his mission, slipping a smooth rock from his leathers and placing it in your hand, had been so unexpected, so sweet. You’d gasped, unsure whether to laugh or cry. He had remembered. 

And when he mentioned going to Winter Court next, you had shyly grinned at him, asking for another “souvenir.” What had started as an innocent collection had become something far more significant to you. Azriel didn’t know but that rock from Spring was the first gift you had ever received in years–decades, almost.

You treasured those silly rocks, keeping them lined up neatly on your dresser. You even painted them with little designs—daisies on the rock from Spring, a tiny shell on the one from Summer, and snowflakes on the one from Winter.

“This may actually finish my collection,” you mused, slipping the rock into the pocket of your skirts, your smile soft.

“I thought I had brought you one already?”

“Must’ve slipped your mind,” you replied with a playful shrug of your shoulders.

Azriel’s expression shifts into one of mock seriousness. “Forgive me, my lady,” he said, bowing his head before his voice turned teasing. “What will I bring you now, then? I’ll be flying out to Dawn next week. You sure you don’t want another rock from there? Or perhaps, this time, a jar of dirt?”

You rolled your eyes, the motion automatic but immediately followed by a sharp pang in your chest as your heart seemed to freeze. A lady, especially one from your court, rolling her eyes at a male? No matter how familiar you could be with a male, a gesture such as this was dangerous and unforgiving.

But Azriel only chuckled, his gaze warm and unbothered. Relief rushed through you, leaving you momentarily breathless, though you tried to play it off with a dry tone. “Ha,” you said, your thoughts already drifting to other possibilities. “But, if you are going to Dawn…”

He tilted his head, eyebrows raising slightly as his lips curved. “Go on.��

“I wouldn’t be opposed to a feather…”

His dark brows furrowed in confusion, and you felt your heart beat louder in your chest. “A feather?” he repeated.

You shrugged again, trying to look casual about it. “A feather from a swan from Dawn. They’re native to the court and mate for life, you know. Some see them as a symbol for love and fidelity. I’d like a feather so that I can add it to my Aphrodite altar.”

“I see.” Azriel’s gaze had turned thoughtful, clearly processing the information. There was a brief pause, and you held your breath, suddenly aware of how ridiculous your request might sound…

 “Y/n, are you… practicing witchcraft?”

You react almost too quickly, it’s suspicious. 

“No,” you said, shaking your head with a small laugh. Even though you had sought out the help of a witch not too long ago, something you’d probably take to the grave with you, given the failed results. Or the fact that this feather would be an offering given with intent to Aphrodite for luck and blessings in love…

”Well, not exactly, I just–it’s a…”

“I don’t think I want to know,” Azriel mused with a chuckle, saving you from whatever disaster of an excuse you could come up with. The sound of his laughter was like a release, the tension in your shoulders easing. “If it’s a Swan’s feather you want, then I’ll make sure I bring one to you.”

There was something in his tone, the certainty in which he said the words, that had warmth pooling in your stomach. It was the kind of warmth that spread quickly, making your whole body feel lighter and creeping up into your chest. 

You turned to look at him. “Really?”

“Really.”

Your feet faltered as the rush of emotions made you dizzy. You barely noticed the uneven ground beneath you, and before you could regain your balance, you felt yourself tipping forward. Azriel’s hand shot out, gripping your arm and pulling you steady against him.

Your breath hitched at the feeling of his touch, gaze falling to where his hand rested on your arm. Slowly, your gaze trailed upwards. Azriel’s gaze was soft, his eyes searching yours in that way that made your heart race. 

“Thank you,” you breathed.

“Of course.”

You were both so close now, you could feel the heat of his breath. The world seemed to narrow to just the two of you. The sound of the river faded, replaced by the pounding of your heart. His free hand brushed against yours, a touch that sent a spark skittering across your skin.

And then, it happened.

A sharp, sudden tightening in your chest.

It wasn’t the pleasant flutter you’d grown accustomed to in Azriel’s presence. No, this was something else entirely. A pull, intense and demanding, like an unseen thread yanking you backward. You gasped, flinching out of Azriel’s grip, who immediately let you go when he felt your resistance.

Your hand flew to your chest. Azriel’s brows furrowed in concern and his shadows stirred anxiously, circling you as if they could shield you from whatever had caused your distress. “Are you alright?”

“I… I don’t know,” you murmured, your fingers pressing against the spot where the ache had settled, desperate to soothe the inexplicable burning. “But I think I’m fine now. ”

You weren’t sure if you were reassuring him or yourself. But you pushed the feeling aside, turning back to Azriel with an uncertain smile.

He took a hesitant step closer, hand hovering over your shoulder. “Are you sure? I can take you to a healer–”

“No,” you immediately shook your head, eyes widening. Calling for a healer meant risking your father finding out you had not heeded to his order of staying put, of you not causing trouble. You’d rather suffer the consequences of whatever sickness had suddenly struck you than be left to deal with your father’s reproach.

“I’m okay. Could we–could we head back now?”

**

Azriel's pov

Worry continued to brew in Azriel’s mind as he watched you settle onto an armchair, hand still rubbing at your chest. His shadows twitched restlessly, curling tighter around him. You had always been easy to read but he found himself struggling to decipher the distant look in your eyes. You hadn’t even looked his way once since he winnowed you both back to the townhouse.

He parted his lips, ready to urge you to see a healer, despite your earlier protest. But a shadow curled itself around his ear and he made himself busy with the book in his hand instead.

The door to Rhysand’s study opened. Azriel’s shadows whispered to him as they noted the way you had stiffened the moment your father stepped out and forced a smile onto your face. He was always unsettled by your father’s indifference to you, his grip on the book he held tightening.

"Let’s go home."

Lord Damus’s voice was detached as he dumped the books in his arm into yours. Azriel noticed immediately that it was a smaller load than what you had arrived with, but that did little to ease him as you winced under the weight.

He moved instinctively to help you, but the harsh stare Rhysand shot at him from across the room made him pause. Azriel blinked, momentarily stunned by the anger that flashed in Rhysand’s eyes.

"Thank you for your time, Lord Damus. I wish you both a safe trip back," Rhysand said, his voice smooth and composed, contrasting the look he had sent Azriel.

Lord Damus bowed in respect and you did the same. Albeit, with a struggle, given all the weight in your arms. Some of Azriel’s shadows darted toward you, hiding within the shadows of the sitting room. They settled underneath the books you carried, helping you silently. And at the way your arms eased, so did Azriel’s.

It was short lived because as soon as you and your father disappeared, Rhysand turned back to him.

“My office. Now.”

Rhysand’s tone left no room for questioning or contemplating. Azriel’s shadows hissed at the sharpness but the shadowsinger yielded to his High Lord’s command. As he entered the office, the faint traces of Feyre and Nyx’s scent lingered in the air, but neither was there now. 

“Did something happen?” Azriel asked, senses on high alert.

Rhysand leaned against the front of his desk, his gaze locking onto Azriel. "I didn’t think I’d have to ask this twice, but... are you out of your mind?"

Azriel’s shadows swirled around him, speaking in tongues. He let out a sound, a mix of disbelief, defensiveness, and the all-too-familiar hint of rage that had been waiting just beneath the surface. Not again.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” he muttered.

Rhysand’s humorless chuckle cut through the air. “Oh, trust me, I wish I was.”

Azriel’s jaw tightened, but he said nothing. 

“I can’t believe you would be so careless as to sneak her out of here when…”

“Her father has no clue,” Azriel shot back, trying to defend the choice, though even he knew it wasn’t enough.

“I bet your scent still lingers on her,” Rhysand snapped. “Do you know how dangerous that could be? For an unwed lady of her status to be caught alone with another male, to smell like another male? It could ruin her. I don’t know what you’re intentions are with her but Y/n is in love with you—”

“I know.” Azriel cut in sharply.

Rhysand’s expression darkened further, his voice hardening into ice. “So you do know. What’s your game here, Az? Because all I can think and worry about is how it will end for her.”

Before Azriel could respond, Rhysand’s voice rang out again, cutting through the growing tension like a blade.

“You will stay away from her.”

The words hit Azriel like a slap, his body going rigid as the words seemed to echo in his mind.  Because this was not his brother talking to him. It was his High Lord. His shadows were seething, reflecting the storm brewing inside. How had it come to this…again? The same damn warning, as though Azriel couldn’t be trusted to make his own decisions. 

First, it was Mor. Then, it was Elain. And now you.

Unbelievable. His lips twisted into a humorless, bitter smile then. “Should I just ask you for a roster of females I’m allowed to be with? It would save us both a lot of time and trouble.”

“I said it before and I’ll say it again.” Rhysand breathed in sharply, barely able to restrain his vexation. “And I pray to the Mother I won’t have to say it for a third time...”

Azriel’s shadows froze mid-whisper. The room grew quiet and unnervingly still. His wings twitched, as if they too, braced themselves. Because he already knew what was coming. 

But knowing didn’t make it any easier.

“If you need to fuck someone, go to a pleasure hall. Heck, I’ll offer to pay for it this time.”

And the words stung just as sharply as they had the first time.

“Just stay away from y/n.”

[series masterlist]

A/n: I had fun writing this <3 and I hope you can understand a bit more of why reader is madly in love with Az. I mean, who isn't? lol But does he like her back or simply like the idea of someone being in love with him for a change…😈

series tag list: @kaitttttttt , @nebarious , @daughterofthemoons-stuff , @justyouraveragekleemain , @tothestarsandwhateverend ,

@ratgirl2020 , @myromanempiree , @vanserrasimp , @itsswritten, @acourtofbatboydreams

@imjustagirl713, @paleidiot, @scarsandallaz, @marina468

@utterlyhopeful-fics, @bia-wayne-west

if you asked to be put on the tag-list and don't see your username, please remind me!

General tag list: @scooobies, @kennedy-brooke, @sillysillygoose444 @lilah-asteria @the-sweet-psycho

@daycourtofficial, @milswrites, @stormhearty, @pit-and-the-pen, @mybestfriendmademe

@loving-and-dreaming @azriels-human @mrsjna, @adventure-awaits15, @lorosette

@alwayshave-faith

[lostinvasileios]

Being a Lucifer devotee is so sweet.

Oh my Lord, oh my Love, oh my Light, oh my Everything! I love my Eosphorus so much! How I long for him, how I pine for him, how I search and dream of him, how my heart beats in rhythm with his, how my blinks match his! He's glorious! Magnificent and illuminative!

So divine that I cannot help but think when my fingertips grace his skin I may end up touching through him, so gorgeous my mind cannot truly ever capture his beauty yet I still can comprehend when he gives me such a soft smile of unadulterated love.

The warmth he gives is more addictive than nicotine and as sweet as cherry wine! Oh, sweet-toned lord of mine! When I rest my head upon his throne and he threads through my hair as if I am a precious flower and he strokes upon my petals, I feel myself melt into puddles of sugary, tooth rotting cake batter!

To worship him is an honor I cannot explain. The word "devotee" has never sounded so sweet! Has never felt so right! My true love! My forever lord!

He tells me such sweet nothings that I feel as if I am a lovesick puppy at his feet, awaiting for the tender touch of his hand to my head. Gladly and gratefully I press his hands to my lips and kiss them, with such happiness I light his candles and set out my offerings, my internal temple I have created for him and my material altar are such a joy to tend to! Making the most extravagant gifts in my mind space, and giving him my made-with-love trinkets and found treasures for my physical one fills me with such belonging!

To wear his mark upon myself is something like no other! It twinkles with faint stars, it warms and glows with his presence! I can feel his hands guiding me when I place his offerings, approving so gently of my love-born offerings!

Oh, have you ever felt him cradle your face? To feel him press his lips to your skin and tell you he loves you with such certainty? Even when my soul finds itself in scattered pieces, beading throughout the universe and planting anew, I shall always ring with joy at the sound of his name echoed through the wind, at the feeling of his kiss and protective essence beamed through the sun!

In his embrace I found true intoxication. In his embrace I found the sweetest liquor.

In his eyes I saw salvation. In his eyes I saw resurrection.

In his voice I heard hymns. In his voice I heard sacred choirs that bring me to my knees at the first syllable he speaks.

At his smell, I felt the meaning of safety. At his smell, I felt the waves of fire enchant my soul.

When he walks, I felt trumpets of my lords return rumble through and send shivers through my being. When he is around, my heart sings and begs to crawl from my ribs and merge with his own. With each rush of my blood I feel him within, I feel him in my palms, in my arms, in my chest and everywhere else. I pulsate for him and he claims me with such pride and adoration.

Oh my emperor of everlasting shimmer! How you are the honey of my heart and the life of my hive. Pollenate me with your love, my lord! And watch me blossom underneath your touch of golden ruby flame.

[moon-river-me]

Hii, a recommendation would be that the reader is a single mother of a 5-year-old child and is on a date with Hotch.

Aaron Hotchner x reader

single parent reader, fluff, sfw, slight flirting

I loved writing this, I hope you enjoy <3

you could not remember the last time you had been on a date. You couldn’t remember the last time you even entertained the thought of a date.

Raising a child solo meant a ton of sacrifices, dating was one of them. You had made your peace a long time ago that you are only going to re-entire the dating pool once Emma was 20. It was for the best honestly.

That was until you met Aaron Hotchner.  

You crossed paths at a coffee shop next to your daughter’s daycare, his son Jack, went to the same one.  Everyday since that meeting all those months ago, you have coffee together in the morning. You both played it off as friends with similar situations, single parents with demanding jobs. you never talked about the shared looks, the gentle caress of hands, or the warm smiles that you doubt Aaron ever gave to anyone but you.

You didn’t talk about it until you did.

It was 11pm when he had appeared at your doorstep after a particularly difficult case. His suit a mess, his breath ragged as if he ran straight from Quantico itself, and a look of pure desperation in his eyes.

“I just need to know you are safe. I needed to see you.” Neither of you uttered a word as you lunged into an embrace that said everything you didn’t. you never checked the time but if you estimated you would have said you stood like that for an eternity. One of which you would gladly repeat until your dying days.

So, that is why at this current moment you were picking a dress with your very opinionated 5-year-old.

“No no no! wear the blue one, you look very beautiful.” Her v’s and t’s sounding more of an f sound due to her lose tooth (she made you promise to be back intime to get a peek at the tooth fairy as the babysitter wouldn’t).

“Okay okay I will wear the blue one!” you exclaim through chuckles, she definitely had your stubbornness, there was no doubt about that.

Getting ready took twice as long because of your constant overthinking and Emma’s constant input. But you both decided on a royal blue dress with short black heels.

You opened your front door to see an exquisite image. Slightly ruffled hair, loose button up, black suit pants, and a rose in hand. Wow.  You knew you were gawking at him, but you didn’t care, not when he looked as delectable as he did in this current moment.

“You look beautiful, you are beautiful.” His eyes diverted to your lips for a fraction of a second before traveling back up to your eyes. You could have sworn his cheeks had a slight blush too them.

“You clean up nice yourself.” You comment smiling while taking the rose from his grasp.

“I know you believe that” he stated knowingly, his dark eyes twinkling in this light. Clearly he had seen your staring, but can you be blamed?

“I have to appreciate all of life’s beauties, and you are one of them.” It was always easy with Aaron. Conversations on what are mondain topics become hour long discussions on everything. Flirting is only an added bonus.

“Shall we go?” He asks, offering his hand to help her into his car,

“I thought you would never ask.” Happily getting into the car, never being more grateful for breaking your dating promise to yourself in your life.

a/n

hope this is good because I loved writing it.

Hotch is my grumpy little pookie so defo love writing about him

[cocoa-goat]

When they catch a glimpse of you playing in the rain.

Featuring: Venti, Xiao, Wanderer, Kazuha

A/N: Hihi !! I feel like I haven’t posted on Tumblr in so long, so here’s a little update. My term break ends tomorrow and I am definitely not thrilled ( T⌓T) ;;

Warning/s: None

Additional info: Reader is gender neutral

♡ Venti ♡

The moment he sees you playing out in the rain, he’s awestruck and doesn’t hesitate to join you.

The bard twirls you around as the gentle raindrops begin to wet his hair and clothes, but he doesn’t mind.

He knows that moments like these are worthwhile, even though you’ll both end up getting sick the next day.

Upon hearing your laughter, it’s almost as if he’s fallen in love with you all over again. He can’t say no to you… after all, how could he resist his one and only muse?

It wasn’t long before his laughter begins to blend with your own, creating a wonderful symphony in the downpour.

“I can’t let my windblume have all the fun, now can I? Mind if I join you?”

♡ Xiao ♡

Xiao is… rendered speechless. He’s never witnessed someone be so carefree, much less under the rain.

Unbeknownst to you, he’s gazing at your joyous figure from Wangshu Inn with what seems to be a smile. Something very rare for someone like him.

He doesn’t seem to mind you playing around in the rain, instead keeping a watchful gaze on you from afar. He wouldn’t want to spoil your fun.

It’s not everyday that someone makes the yaksha smile, but you seemed to have changed that with your little habits.

It was at this moment that Xiao decided to protect you and your happiness. Both of which he deemed as precious. A vow to himself, and an unspoken promise to you.

“How long I’ve been watching you? …That doesn’t matter, just don’t stay outside for too long, alright?”

♡ Kazuha ♡

The samurai leans onto the doorframe with his arms crossed and his heart melts at the sight.

Kazuha stays like that for a while, only breaking his gaze once you’ve caught him staring at you.

Don’t be shy—tell him to join in! He’d gladly oblige. He rarely ever gets to see this side of you, and he wants to cherish it as much as possible.

He’s probably the type to slow-dance with you in the rain. With his hand on your waist, and the other taking hold of your hand, he guides you into synchronising with his graceful movements.

Oh, how he wishes that time would slow down when it comes to you.

“[name], as much as I adore seeing you like this, the idea of you getting sick pains me… Let’s head inside, shall we?”

♡ Wanderer / Scaramouche ♡

Okay let’s be honest here, his hat would probably shield him from the rain. 💀 (Seriously, how does he pass through narrow doors with that hat on??)

He’d most likely lecture you about getting sick and how much of a hassle it would be to tend to you. But just as he’s about to, something tells him to stop and just… admire you.

To Scaramouche, it’s as if time had come to a halt, and all noises seemed to have been drowned out. All can see is your smile, and all he can feel is the rapid beating of his heart.

That smile of yours which he’s grown to love so much. Your smile that feels like the first rays of sunshine after a harsh storm.

That still won’t stop him from reprimanding you, though… after he’s snapped out of his star-struck trance, he’ll be quick to wrap you in the warmth of his embrace; shielding you from the incoming storm.

“What were you doing out there? You know better than to—[name]? You’re shivering, come here.”

Based on an experience I had the other day lol (and now I’m sick 🤧)

[lestatdelivncvurt]

𝐒𝐖𝐄𝐄𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐄𝐅.

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x Reader

Veiled by your sweet nature, who would suspect you to be a girl obsessed with the one-eye prince? That is until you were caught by the prince.

Requested by anon

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 ; DARK THEME! obsession, mention of stalking, and attempt stealing.

fanfiction | House of the Dragon

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A virtuous maiden you were, a servant among the serving. A title you'd solely hold, nothing more and nothing less. How can a prince know of you?

As you wander through the maze-like corridors, with the torches as the fount of warmth, the chill remains. There would be whispered murmurs among the passersby. The iciness of the passageways was palpable until your gaze locked on the prince who had returned from his training.

Your heart beats loudly. Arden flows through your veins as you gaze upon the prince. Swallowing deeply the lump inside your throat when the prince meets your eyes, a slight smile graces his face. Despite the distance, you could still inhale his scent, enough to drive you to madness.

Aemond did not bestow much attention upon you as he swiftly departed to his chamber. Your hands itch to reach out and detain him from leaving; he was meant to be here with you, perhaps holding you in his embrace. Lingering in his absence was his warmth and fragrance. You gladly absorbed it all, thirstily like a famished creature.

You fled away from the spot.

When the corridors were deserted, devoid of whispers and prying gazes, you sought the prince's chamber. The door creaked open and unveiled the vacant chamber, enveloped in darkness. The prince must have been training or soaring on dragonback.

You stealthily entered the chamber, breathing in his lingering scent. The dim chamber allowed you to move around unnoticed by others. It was a ritual for you to shadow the one-eyed prince and appropriate an item of his.

"I finally caught you red-handed, thief." His voice echoed through the once-silent chamber, causing you to freeze in place. You whipped your head to gaze at him, panic rising within you as you saw the prince at the doorway with an amused expression.

In an attempt to appear innocent, you spoke, "My prince, forgive me, I-" Your falsehood faltered on your tongue as he advanced closer towards you. He could have you punished for theft and more, yet instead, his hand reached to grip your chin gently but firmly, tilting your head to meet his gaze.

Aemond caressed your chin with his thumb, "Would you believe I would not notice that you've been sneaking around? Oh, I know, sweet thief." His smile broadened, "Shall we start with your punishment?"

[da-rulah]

You can decide wether this is a request or not but just for your enjoyment, coming up behind either Mary or copia and placing your hands on his hips…slowly sliding them down into the front of is pants and through the waist band of his boxers and just cupping him…holding his cock and keeping it warm. Intimate

Ooooh I love the thought of this. I've really neglected Copia lately, focussed too much on my Mary fic and getting so many Mary requests as a result - which of course, I absolutely do not mind! But let's give our Papa some love, shall we?

NSFW 18+ MDNI!

TW/ Groping (consensual), soft porn really, mentions of oral and penetrative sex

I mean, just picture this...

Copia's just come home from a full day of meetings. He stressed, he's overworked and he's exhausted. He needs someone to take care of him, to show him some kindness, some love - not that he'd ever explicitly ask for it.

Luckily for him, you're already waiting for him. You knew what his schedule was like today; most days, even...

When you crept up behind him in the kitchen, sliding your hands around his waist and over his chest, he had jumped in surprise having not heard you approach at all.

"You sneak up on your Papa like that, come un topolina? (like a little mouse?)" he laughs, shaking off the shock and relaxing under your palms on his chest.

"Sorry Papa... Didn't mean to frighten you..." you lied, a playful hint to your tone. You rested your cheek between his shoulder blades, hugging him closer while your hands explored the expanse of his chest, feeling the softness beneath his shirt and waistcoat.

"A likely story, amore," he laughed, his eyes closing and his body sinking back into your embrace. He could already feel the tension in his muscles fading away.

You simply hummed against him, your hands starting to undo the buttons of his waistcoat, then the buttons in the centre of his shirt until you could slip a hand inside and feel his chest hair beneath your fingers. Copia's head rolled back a little, a small rumble of bliss tumbling from his lips.

Your free hand began to slip over his stomach, down to where his pants hugged his hips and dug into his sides a little. You pulled on the laced crotch to give yourself enough room to snake your hand past his trousers. Just as you expected, he'd forgone underwear again... these trousers of his far too tight for another layer, or so he would say.

"Amore..." he groaned, only just beginning to harden under your touch as you wrapped your hand around his package, simply holding him, barely fondling at all.

"Yes, Papa?" you asked from behind him, beginning to sway a little. He naturally followed suit, the two of you gently swaying together as you groped him so gently, so tenderly, it was all he could do not to melt into a puddle on the floor.

"I'm so tired, amore. I don't know if I have the strength tonight..." he whined. He so rarely turned down an offer to have his way with you, but he'd be in no state to give you any energy tonight.

"Then how about I take care of you instead, hm? You let me do all the hard work?" You could feel his cock filling out in your hand, his body responding so well. He was so lost in his relaxation, there was no hiding your effect on him.

"I could never be so selfish, topolina..." was his only resistance. You just chuckled behind him.

"Papa, my love, you are many things. But selfish? Never. Let me take care of you, please?" you begged so sweetly, massaging your hands across his bare chest and his hardening length. He couldn't deny you; not that he wanted to. His body was already betraying him.

"If that's what you want..." he smiled blissfully, gently holding onto your wrists as you worked your magic.

It was a pitiful surrender, one that he so gladly gave. He almost regretted it when you retracted your hands and instead took his in yours, gently guiding him towards your shared bedroom so you could spend your evening worshipping your Papa as he so deserved.

He would soon retract any regret, when he spent an evening in sleepy, exhausted bliss. You so tenderly pleased him with your hands, your mouth... Even when you came to ride him, you were so careful, slowly drawing the pleasure out of your connection for the both of you.

There was nothing in this life or the next that Copia could say relaxed him more than your presence alone - especially when he allowed you to take care of him...

[asa-do-your-thing]

The Second First Time

18+ MINORS DNI Jon Snow x F!Reader 2.2 k Warnings: P in V sex, porn w/o plot, smut duh, virginity (kinda), loss of virginity, alcohol, fingering, cunnilingus, overstim, actually really cute and fluffy, as always no proofreading no nothing

When you told Jon about your idea, over a mug of hot, spiced ale in your shared apartments in Winterfell, he laughed out loud. “You had guarded your maidenhead like a hawk and now you wish to lose it again? Why?”

Of course, you could do naught but blush fervently, not quite knowing how to explain this need to your husband. “It’s… I want you to… Take me again, but just like the first time? As if I didn’t know a thing and you were seducing me?”, you mumbled and half-hid your face in your hands. You should have never mentioned this to him, he wouldn’t understand it…

Jon's laughter faded as he noticed your embarrassment. He reached out and gently pulled your hands away from your face, his grey eyes searching yours intently. "My love, there is no need to be ashamed," he said softly, his thumb caressing your cheek. "If this is truly what you desire, then I shall gladly oblige."

A shiver ran down your spine at his words, anticipation already building within you. Jon set aside his mug and stood, offering you his hand. "Come, let us retire to our bedchamber. Tonight, you shall be my blushing maiden once more, and I your ardent suitor."

You placed your hand in his, allowing him to guide you through the stone corridors of Winterfell over to your old chambers. Your heart raced as you imagined what was to come - Jon's strong hands roaming your body, his lips trailing heated kisses across your skin, the exquisite stretch as he claimed you for the first time all over again.

When you reached your old rooms, Jon turned to face you, a mischievous glint in his eye. "My lady," he murmured, bowing his head. "Might I have the honor of your company this evening?"

Playing along, you ducked your head demurely. "Why, my lord, I hardly know you. What sort of lady would I be if I allowed a strange man into my chambers at night without any chaperone?"

Jon stepped closer, his fingers grazing your waist. "Ah, but I am no stranger, sweet lady. Have you not felt the connection between us these past moons? The longing glances, the accidental brushes of our hands that set your skin afire with desire?"

His voice was low and honeyed, making your knees weak. You swallowed hard, trying to remember the role you were meant to play. "I... I have felt it, my lord. But... but what you suggest is most improper. If anyone were to find out..."

"They shan't," Jon assured you, his hands now firmly gripping your hips, pulling your body flush against his. You could feel the hard planes of his muscled chest even through the layers of your gown. "It will be our secret - a stolen moment, just you and I, with naught but the old gods as our witness."

His lips were a hairsbreadth from yours, his breath warm against your skin. Your resolve was crumbling swiftly. "I am still a maid, ser," you whispered, one last, feeble protest. "I know not how to please a man."

Jon's mouth curved into a wolfish smile. "Then allow me to teach you, sweetling..."

And then he was kissing you, his lips hungry and demanding against your own. You melted into his embrace, surrendering yourself and gasped - were you still acting or was he indeed bolder this night? - as he gently took your hand and guided it to his hardness which strained at his breeches. Nervously looking up at him, you tried your best to untie them, but to your shame your fingers were trembling too much. “Do you wish me to…?”, you asked, quickly glancing down at his hardness. This situation - whatever this was - made you so giddy and shy at the same time, it truly did feel like it was your first time all over again.

Jon's eyes darkened with lust at your innocently worded question. "Aye, my sweet maiden. I would have your hands upon me, learning the shape and feel of my desire for you."

With a steadying breath, you tugged at the laces of his breeches until they loosened. Tentatively, you slipped your hand inside, marveling at the smooth, hot skin of his manhood as your fingers encircled him. Jon groaned at your touch, his hips rocking forward instinctively.

Emboldened by his reaction, you began to stroke him, reveling in the weight and size of him in your palm. He felt both familiar and new all at once, and the heady power of bringing him pleasure, even in your feigned naivete, was intoxicating.

"That's it, sweetling," Jon panted, his head falling back as you continued your ministrations. "Just like that... ah, gods, your hand feels incredible..."

You quickened your pace, tightening your grip, drawing more of those delicious sounds from his throat. But before you could bring him to his peak, Jon's hand closed over your wrist, stilling your movements.

"As much as I am enjoying your touch, I crave a sweeter pleasure," he rasped, his voice rough with need. He lifted your hand from his breeches and brought it to his lips, pressing a kiss to your palm. "I want to be inside you when I spend myself.”

Slowly getting up and walking over to your bed - by the gods, your dollies were still there - you gave him a blushing look. “But… you cannot claim me… I’m a maiden… but if you must, be gentle…”, you muttered and slipped your dress off, laying there in just your smallclothes and your thigh-high stockings.

Jon's gaze raked over your partially clothed form, his eyes lingering on the creamy expanses of skin revealed to him. "Gentle, aye, I can be that," he murmured, stalking towards the bed. "But I mean to ruin you for all other men, sweetling. Once I'm through, you'll crave naught but my touch."

He knelt on the bed, crawling over you like a wolf closing in on its prey. His large hands skimmed up your legs, fingers toying with the edges of your stockings. You trembled beneath him, your breath coming faster as he settled his weight over you.

"These must go," Jon declared, hooking his fingers into your smallclothes and dragging them down your legs. Cool air whispered across your heated core and you squirmed with sudden shyness, instinctively trying to close your thighs.

But Jon would have none of that. He caught your knees, gently prying your legs back open. "Don't hide from me," he coaxed. "You're beautiful, every inch of you. Let me look upon what is mine."

His words made you flush, warmth pooling low in your belly. Slowly, you relaxed, allowing him to nudge your thighs further apart. Jon ran his hands along your inner thighs, the calluses on his palms creating delicious friction against your sensitive skin.

"I'm going to taste you now," he warned, his voice a low rumble that sent shivers through you. "I want to feast upon your maiden's honey, drink down every sweet drop until you're shaking and crying out my name."

Your eyes widened and you swallowed hard, equal parts scandalized and aroused by his bold declaration. Surely he didn't mean to put his mouth... there? At least, that what you remembered from the first time it had happened. Your grip on reality faded slowly - it truly did feel like you had never been touched, like Jon was dishonouring you in the best way possible… "But my lord," you protested weakly, "s-surely that's not proper..."

Jon merely smirked, settling himself between your parted thighs. "Aye, mayhaps not. But I am going to do it all the same. And you're going to enjoy every wicked moment, aren't you, my innocent little temptress?"

Any further objections died on your tongue as he lowered his head, his breath hot against your quivering sex. The first swipe of his tongue through your slick folds had you arching off the bed with a startled cry. Your hands flew to his hair, fingers tangling in the dark curls as he began to lap at you in earnest.

It was bliss and torment all at once, the sensations almost too intense for your ‘inexperienced’ body to process. Jon's mouth was relentless, alternating between broad strokes and precise flicks against that little bud at the apex of your thighs that made you see stars. He gripped your hips tightly, holding you in place as you writhed and bucked against him.

"Jon, oh gods, Jon!"

When he heard your cries, he instantly climbed all over you and gently swiped his cock up and down your slickness, grinning at your scrunched up face as you prepared yourself to feel him again. “Too much for my sweet girl?”

He teased the head of his manhood against your entrance, making you whimper with need. "Please, my lord," you begged, hardly recognizing your own voice, wanton and breathy. "I need... I need..."

"What do you need, sweetling?" Jon coaxed, his hips rocking gently, giving you just the barest taste of what you craved. "Tell me."

You flushed hotly, the words sticking in your throat. A proper lady should never speak of such things, but in this moment, propriety seemed a distant concern. "I need you inside me," you confessed in a rush. "Please, I'm aching for you..."

Jon's eyes flashed with satisfaction and he notched himself more firmly against your opening. "As my lady commands."

And then he was pushing forward, slowly sheathing himself in your tight, wet heat. You gasped at the intrusion, your nails digging into his shoulders as you stretched around him. There was no pain, not truly, but the sensation of being so fully claimed, possessed, was overwhelming.

"Gods, you're so tight," Jon gritted out through clenched teeth, holding himself still to allow you to adjust. "Like a bloody vice around my cock. Relax for me, love, let me in..."

You took a deep breath, willing your body to unclench. As you exhaled, Jon sank deeper, until he was buried to the hilt, his pelvis flush against yours. You whimpered at the exquisite feeling of fullness, of finally having him inside you where you needed him most.

"That's it, sweetling," Jon murmured, his lips brushing your temple as he began to move, establishing a slow, deep rhythm. "Just like that. Gods, you feel incredible. So hot and tight and perfect."

Each measured thrust sent sparks of pleasure radiating through you, stoking the fire building low in your belly. You clung to him, your legs coming up to wrap around his hips, drawing him impossibly closer.

"More," you pleaded, nails scoring down his back. "Please, Jon, I need... harder..."

A low growl rumbled in his chest and his thrusts grew more forceful, the gentle rocking of his hips giving way to a primal rutting. The bed creaked and shuddered beneath you as he drove into you relentlessly, chasing his pleasure and yours.

"Touch yourself," he commanded hoarsely. "I want to feel you come undone around me."

Sliding a hand between your sweat-slicked bodies, you found that sensitive bundle of nerves at the apex of your thighs. You rubbed in tight circles, gasping at the added stimulation.

The pressure inside you was building to a fever pitch, your inner walls starting to flutter and clench around Jon's pistoning length. "That's it," he encouraged, his voice strained with the effort of holding back his own release. "Don't stop, let go for me..."

With a few more frantic strokes of your fingers and a particularly deep thrust from Jon, you shattered, crying out his name as wave after wave of ecstasy crashed over you. Your legs trembled and your back arched as the intense pleasure radiated through every nerve ending.

Jon continued to move within you, extending your climax, until your spasming sheath proved too much. With a guttural groan, he buried himself to the hilt and spilled his seed deep inside you, his hips jerking erratically as he emptied himself.

You clung to each other as you drifted down from the high, panting harshly, slick skin pressed together. After a few moments, Jon carefully withdrew from your body and rolled to the side, gathering you close. You winced slightly at the familiar soreness between your thighs, a delicious ache that served as proof of your coupling.

"Are you alright, my love?" Jon murmured, brushing sweat-dampened hair from your brow. "I fear I may have gotten a bit carried away..."

You smiled up at him, tracing your fingers over his stubbled jaw. "More than alright. That was... gods Jon, it really did feel like the first time. Thank you for indulging me…”

Smiling down at you, Jon kissed the tip of your nose. “And hey, at least this time I lasted longer than two pumps and you didn’t bleed… I must say, my love, that whatever this is… we’ll have to repeat this.”

Jon chuckled, pulling you closer into his embrace. "Aye, it was certainly an improvement over our true first coupling. Though I cherished that night all the same, for it was the beginning of our life together."

You nestled into his chest, basking in the afterglow and the warmth of his love. "As did I, my heart. But this... this was a delightful way to relive that moment, to experience it anew without the awkwardness and uncertainty."

"Indeed," Jon agreed, pressing a kiss to your hair. "And I must admit, your maidenly shyness and innocence, feigned though it was, stirred something primal in me. It was intoxicating, the illusion of seducing and claiming you for the first time. Now let us return, before the servants notice…”

[sarahscribbles]

OK but for 97. "I was good when you were gone! I didn't even touch myself." is SOOOOOO denial! Reader. Loki tells her she's going to come on a certain day (finally) then he gets unexpectedly called away on a mission for a few days and when he gets back-- JFJDIWHBEJEJ

Ask and ye shall receive!

𝐓𝐨 𝐓𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐞 𝐖𝐡𝐨 𝐖𝐚𝐢𝐭

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: 𝐋𝐨𝐤𝐢 𝐡𝐚𝐬 𝐝𝐞𝐧𝐢𝐞𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐰𝐡𝐨𝐥𝐞 𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐤, 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐤 𝐢𝐬 𝐮𝐩, 𝐡𝐞'𝐬 𝐚𝐬𝐤𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐚𝐜𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐓𝐡𝐨𝐫 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐍𝐚𝐭 𝐨𝐧 𝐚 𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧. 𝐅𝐫𝐮𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐟𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐨𝐰𝐬.

𝐆𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: 𝐒𝐦𝐮𝐭

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: 𝐋𝐨𝐤𝐢 𝐱 𝐟!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 𝟒.𝟏𝐤

𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐬: 𝐎𝐫𝐠𝐚𝐬𝐦 𝐝𝐞𝐧𝐢𝐚𝐥, 𝐞𝐝𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐧𝐢𝐩𝐩𝐥𝐞 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐲, 𝐩 𝐢𝐧 𝐯

𝐋𝐨𝐤𝐢 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

You sense his presence only seconds before two strong arms are looping easily around your waist, pulling you tightly against his solid chest so he can nuzzle his face into your hair. The familiar scent of him settles around you like a favourite blanket - a heady mixture of soft earthy scents mingled with something subtly sweet that you’ve never been able to properly put your finger on. 

All you know is that it’s Loki. The best thing that’s ever happened to you.

A quiet smile tugs at your lips and you wriggle back a little further into his embrace. “I knew you were there,” you say casually, continuing to stir your tea.

He gives your waist a squeeze. “Course you did,” he murmurs, gently moving your hair away from your neck. 

You barely have time to enjoy the brief brush of his fingertips before they’re replaced with his lips. They move languidly against your skin, as though nothing matters more to him at this moment than savouring the taste of you. His lips are soft and warm, giving the illusion of a blissful afternoon spent in his arms, but when you feel the wet press of his tongue against your throat, you know he has nothing but filth on his mind.

A whimper falls freely from you just as your hips begin to rock slowly in search of…something…anything to take the edge off. 

“Feeling needy, dove?” Loki taunts quietly, nibbling your earlobe while his hand slips beneath your shirt. 

His cool hand running over your skin makes you shiver in delight and anticipation. Easily, he finds your breast, pulling it free from the confines of your bra to toy with an already erect nipple. He pinches and rolls it between finger and thumb to send a satisfying jolt of pleasure racing through you, making you crave more of him. 

His touch has every nerve in your body flickering joyously to life, and when he squeezes that little bit harder, the groan that escapes you can only be described as debauched.

“What do you think?” you shoot back, allowing your head to fall back against his shoulder. Your eyes flutter shut while he continues to play with your nipple, and arousal pools like liquid sin between your thighs when his other hand quickly finds its twin. 

Needy doesn’t describe what you’re feeling - it doesn’t even come close.

For the past week Loki has denied you release - for no reason other than he wanted to - and he’s been diligent in teasing and edging you each of those seven days, ensuring that you’re kept perpetually stimulated 

Truthfully, you aren’t sure how you’re still capable of forming coherent thoughts. Night and day, all you can think about is getting fucked senseless on Loki’s cock. 

He laughs softly right by your ear and the feel of his warm breath hitting your skin is enough to voraciously fan the flames of your own lust. “I think you’d let me mount you on this countertop if I wished to,” he says with a particularly rough twist of your nipples. 

The bite of pain is intoxicating and makes your cunt throb. All you need - all you ever need - is Loki. His sinful tongue, his skilled fingers, his beautiful cock - you’ll gladly take whatever he’ll give you until you can no longer remember his name.

“Please, Loki,” you plead softly, already feeling a wave of pleasure begin to build in your core from how he’s torturing your breasts. 

His touch is electric and you know without a doubt that you would let him mount you right here in the kitchen if it meant you got to feel that release.

“Mmm, you sound so beautiful when you beg,” he purrs softly in your ear. The tip of his regal nose slowly traces your jaw and he stops to place a surprisingly chaste kiss to your cheek. “I’m going to let you come tonight, my little dove,” he whispers against your flushed skin. 

The worlds roll over you one by one, each one stoking the embers of desire in your core to life until a raging flame is burning like hellfire in your core. The man is sin incarnate, he’s been sent by the Devil to ensure your eternal damnation, and with how soaked you are for him - because of him - your eternal punishment is firmly guaranteed. 

“Is that a promise?” you ask, already feeling close to dizzy at the mere thought of an orgasm.

Loki’s teasing fingers pull and twist at your nipples just hard enough that a broken cry escapes your lungs - a cry that tells him just how much you’re enjoying the torment. Though, he no doubt knows that there’s little he can do to you that you won’t enjoy. 

His teeth sink into your earlobe and pull until you shiver in his arms. “It is my solemn promise,” he says softly. You feel one hand drift along your stomach to slide beneath the waist of your skirt, and then he’s slowly, torturously, using a single finger to trace over your cunt through your underwear. “I’m going to make you unravel again and again and again.”

The ache between your thighs becomes almost unbearable, the searing heat of your desire threatening to fully engulf you if not sated. Loki’s finger traces agonisingly over your cunt, touching every part of you except where you burn for him most. It’s erotic torture and it doesn’t take long until you’re wriggling and twisting in his arms in a fruitless attempt to coax him closer.

His answering laughter is like spun silk in your ear - delicate, but teasing as he pulls his hand away before you can find even a modicum of relief in his touch. “You need to be patient, dove. It’s not even midday,” he taunts, fixing your bra and righting your shirt. The teasing, for now, is over. 

Your fingers curl against the smooth surface of the countertop at the exact moment a strangled groan rises in your throat. You sound close to possessed, but you can feel the throbbing of your desire right down to your toes, and the thought of having to wait even another few hours for release is almost unbearable.

“You’re such an ass, Loki!” you whine, feeling hot tears begin to prick at your eyes with how badly you want him to fuck you. 

You feel him gently smack your ass - nothing more than a love tap, really, - and his hands come to rest possessively on your hips. “I can make you wait another week if you’d like.” His voice is suddenly heavy with warning, and you know he has no qualms about adding another seven days to your torment. 

Begrudgingly, you swallow back the retort that’s dancing on the tip of your tongue. “No,” you answer instead, irritation evident in the single syllable. 

Loki presses his lips to your temple while his hands glide up to cup your breasts again, giving a final twist to your nipples through your shirt. “Then be a good girl and wait.”

Wait.

He says it like it’s the easiest thing in the world, as though you couldn’t power a small city with how intensely the arousal is burning within you. 

But he still expects you to wait.

Asshole. 

A violet haze of unbridled lust settles quickly over you, and you spend the rest of the day attempting to ignore the burning ache swelling like a storm between your thighs. No matter what you do, though, all you can think about is Loki’s cock. Your every thought is about how he’ll feel finally sliding inside you after a week of teasing and how each vein will feel as he drags his cock along your walls. 

You imagine how his hips will feel pressed flush against yours while he fills you to the brim, until you’re no longer sure where he ends and you begin.

You try not to think about it, you really do, but it’s impossible with Loki being intent on driving you completely insane in the final hours of your denial. 

Five hours after sneaking up on you in the kitchen, he had you pinned against the conference room wall, kissing you breathless while ensuring to rub his thigh tormentingly along your throbbing cunt. The edge crept up on you with a vengeance, each rock of your hips against Loki’s thigh bringing you closer and closer. It was so close, so beautifully, wondrously close…

“No,” he’d purred, smirking and pulling his thigh away. “That is not allowed.”

“Loki, please! I can’t do it!” you had pleaded, desperately rolling your hips in search of his. 

His strong hands were quick to pin them firmly against the wall, preventing you from chasing the pleasure you craved. “You will do it, dove,” he replied with quiet firmness, raising a hand to curl it beneath your chin. “Only a few more hours and I promise you won’t remember your own name.”

The rich timbre of his promise had arousal twisting like a knot in your stomach. Gods above how you wanted him. “I don’t think I can wai-,” you began, only to be cut off by Loki’s lips crashing down on yours in a kiss so passionate it almost made you dizzy.

You knew it was a promise of what was to come, a promise that he intended to ruin you as soon as night rolled around, but you wanted nothing more than to rip his clothes from his perfect body. 

“Ten o’clock,” he’d murmured against your lips. “Be waiting in our room at ten o’clock.” He’d given you another lingering kiss and left with a wink to disappear behind the conference room doors.

The bedroom is where you’re waiting for him - where you’ve been waiting for him for the past fifteen minutes. You know he’s doing it on purpose - intentionally dragging out the final few minutes just because he can. 

It’s infuriating, but you wouldn’t expect anything else from him.

When fifteen minutes melt into twenty you’ve had enough of his games, but you’re barely two steps towards the door when your phone starts to chime with an incoming call. 

Loki.

“Where are you?” you whine down the phone, not even bothering to hide your impatience. 

You’re expecting to hear his laughter on the other end and his smooth voice teasing you that you couldn’t wait even an extra twenty minutes, but when he speaks, he sounds genuinely contrite. “Darling, I’m sorry, I -”

He doesn’t get the chance to finish his sentence, because, in the background of the call, you swear you recognise the familiar hum of…

“Are you on the Quinjet?” you interrupt him, disbelief mingling quickly with your impatience. God, you want to murder him.

“Yes,” he answers quickly. “Darling, I am truly so sorry. This wasn’t part of the plan, but Stark insisted that I accompany Thor and The Widow on this mission. It won’t last any longer than three days.”

The burning flame of need coils inside you like a serpent prepared to strike. “Three days? Three days, Loki? I’ve already waited an entire week!’ you whine pitifully down the phone.

There’s a beat of silence and you know he’s moving to a quieter section of the jet where he won’t be overheard. “I know, darling, and I’m so proud of you,” he says, his voice an octave lower than before. “But you only need to be good for three more days. Can you do that for me?”

You huff a quiet sigh, knowing it will get you nowhere. “Yes, Loki,” you answer quietly, because, really, there isn’t any other option. He hasn’t given you permission to come, so you won’t.

You can hear the smile in his voice when he answers. “Good girl. Three more days and I am yours.” 

They’re the longest three days of your life. 

Each second of Loki’s absence feels like an eternity, and by the third day, you’re ready to climb the Tower walls with how desperately you need him. Every inch of you thrums for him, every pore burns for him and, night and day, he’s all you can think about.

You fall asleep to dream about his warm lips painting you purple and red. 

You eat breakfast while daydreaming about his strong hands encasing your wrists above your head. 

You shower to the thought of him easing inside you inch by beautiful inch, until he’s filling you to the brim. 

If he doesn’t return soon from whatever godforsaken part of the planet he’s on, you’re going to put yourself in an early grave. 

It’s when you’re preparing for bed that you finally hear the familiar heavy tread of his boots along the hallway, and you’re immediately wide awake, any and all need to sleep is quickly replaced by a primal hunger for the god approaching your room. When his footsteps stop at the other side of the door, you feel as though your heart is attempting to break free from your chest with how wildly its thundering, as though it's screaming out for its mate in the chest of your god. 

The bedroom door opens slowly, tantalisingly revealing your leather-clad love inch by inch. You don’t miss how his eyes - soft as dew at first - instantly darken with untamed arousal when he sees that you’re awake. 

And that you’re wearing that flimsy little gold nightgown he’s threatened to rip off you on more than one occasion.

You don’t break eye contact as he closes the door softly in his wake, but you feel the coil in your stomach twist at the quiet sound of the lock clicking in place and the faint green shimmer that passes over the door. You know without even asking that he’s cast a silencing charm. 

Loki’s eyes travel slowly over you, drinking in the sight of your bare legs and pausing only briefly on your cleavage. You catch the quick quirk of his lips when those green eyes finally return to yours, a storm of desire swirling openly in blown wide pupils. 

“My, my, dove, what could possibly have you awake so late?” he purrs smoothly, closing the distance between you in slow, measured footsteps that make your heart jolt with each thump on the floor. 

You attempt to fix him with a hard stare. “If you even think about playing games with me tonight…” You try to sound firm, unmovable, but you both know that you’ll be his toy if he wants you to. 

This man owns you body, mind and soul. There’s close to nothing you won’t do for him if he asks.

His hands find their home on your waist, and open adoration now mixes with the desire swirling in his eyes. “No games, dove, that I promise you. You’ve waited long enough,” he murmurs, letting his hands move to rest on your shoulders, gentle fingers pushing the thin straps of your nightgown down your arms until it pools in a golden puddle at your feet. “My good girl.”

You feel his hands ghost along your sides until they’re encasing your ribcage, fingers splaying across your back in tandem with the silken pads of his thumbs tracing your nipples as he leans in to kiss you. It’s slow and deep and his mouth moves almost lazily against yours, as though all that matters is tasting you. His touch is the diesel to your desire and sends flaming tendrils of longing flicking through you unforgivably. You want this man, you need him, and the feel of his skin on yours isn’t nearly enough.

Loki bites your bottom lip, pulling a strangled whimper from you while you lock your arms around his neck to pull him closer, deeper. Eager hands twist into his hair, savouring the feel of each silky strand that wraps around your fingers and tugging in just the way you know he likes. 

You’re rewarded with a gutteral groan against your lips and a rough squeeze of your ass. 

Strong arms stay locked around you as he walks you backwards to the bed, only stopping once your knees hit the mattress and you topple backward into the pillows with a quiet “mmph.” Even then, your own arms stay locked around him to bring him with you as you fall, because you don’t want to lose the feel of him for even a second. 

And a second is all it takes for him to settle between your spread legs like a missing jigsaw piece, never once letting his lips leave yours.

You’re drowning in the feel of him beneath your fingertips, the taste of him on your tongue, the smell of him as he battles to be closer, and you don’t care if you never surface again. He’s as familiar to you as the beat of your own heart and the sound of your own breathing, he’s the anchor that stops you from drifting out to sea on your worst days and, gods above, you love him so much that sometimes it hurts. 

“Love you,” you say when he finally breaks your kiss. “I love you.” 

Even in the half light of the room, you swear you see the faintest trace of pink stain his cheeks. He hums appreciatively, a soft smile pulling on his lips. “I love you, my good girl,” he replies, and that smile twists into a smirk. “You have been good for me, haven’t you?”

“Yes!” Your voice is shrill, almost a yell, but you’re so wildly desperate that you no longer care. “Loki, I’ve been so good! I didn’t even touch while you were away!”

He quirks a perfect eyebrow at you, mischief sparkling in his emerald eyes. “Is that so?”

His fingers trace along your inner thigh until they reach your cunt and it clenches in anticipation, but Loki grants you only the lightest touch, intentionally avoiding your clit until you’re bucking your hips beneath him in search of more. 

“You’re soaking, dove,” Loki says, feigning surprise. 

The smart reply that’s dancing on your tongue dies instantly when he pulls his hand away to slip two fingers between his lips, licking your arousal off them with a satisfied hum like it’s the finest ambrosia.

The sight is so lewd, so wonderfully, deliciously wicked that you’re certain you could climax by sheer will alone, such is the effect that this man has on you. 

You roll your hips firmly against his - it’s an invitation and a plea in one small movement, and it’s enough for you to feel his hard cock straining through the thick leather he still hasn’t removed. 

Again, you roll your hips, feeling suddenly emboldened by the firm evidence of his own arousal. Loki groans softly at the fleeting contact, and it sends a rush of power to your head when his own hips try to follow yours, almost as if acting of their own accord. 

His green eyes are almost blown completely black, and your own desire - your own insatiable hunger for the man above you - is reflected back at you clear as crystal. 

He needs this just as much as you. 

“Imagine how I feel,” you murmur, tugging gently on his curls again for good measure. As expected, you hear the quiet catch of his breath. 

Loki leans in until his lips are brushing teasingly against yours, and for a second you forget how to breathe. “My little temptress, as if I could possibly resist you,” he whispers softly, before claiming your lips in a kiss so fierce that your heart skips a beat.

It’s a kiss that sets your blood on fire and one that you feel all the way down to your toes. You need him closer even though you’re skin on skin, and when your hands begin to roam downwards, you discover that he’s finally magicked his leather away in an unseen shimmer of green. It doesn’t matter that you’ve held him like this countless times in the past, your fingers still explore every inch of him like it’s the first time. He’s firm and solid and safe. He’s the most beautiful thing that your hands have ever touched. 

He’s yours.

Reluctantly, you pull away, because as wonderful as kissing him is, it’s not enough. You need to feel him inside you, need him to ruin you again and again. You need the reminder that you belong to him. 

Maybe more than once just to really drive the message home. 

“Loki…Lo..fuck…Loki, please,” you begin to beg just as his lips latch onto your jaw. They’re neither rough nor gentle, but you know you’ll be painted in his marks tomorrow - a patchwork of red and purple that you’ll display with pride.

“Please,” you continue in little more than a whisper, feeling your eyes flutter shut to bask in the warm glow of the attention he’s lavishing on you. 

By now, your eager hands have reached his ass and you squeeze it hungrily in a vain attempt to force him forward. His cock is brushing almost maddeningly against your inner thigh and you don’t know how much longer you’ll last without it buried inside you. 

Loki nips at your neck with his teeth in reply - something he knows will have you moan, and you do - and you respond in kind by curling your nails into the smooth skin of his ass. 

“Shhh, dove. I am yours,” he murmurs quietly into your cheek, placing a final chaste kiss to your flushed skin before grasping your chin gently in one hand, ensuring your eyes stayed locked with his. “I want you to keep those lovely eyes on me.”

You obey easily, leaning into the touch of his large palm cradling your cheek and barely even blinking as he eases himself inside you. It’s slow - so slow that you feel every last beautiful inch of him until he’s filled you to the brim, and he releases a deep, guttural groan from deep in his chest once his hips are flush against yours.

For a moment, he doesn’t move, doesn’t do anything but bask in your welcoming warmth while resting his forehead against yours. Your name is a strangled whisper into the night alongside the single, shallow thrust of his hips into you. It’s barely anything, but you still arch into him and dig your nails into the soft skin of his back - a silent plea for more. 

“You are Valhalla,” he murmurs, voice raspy as he claims your waiting lips in another lingering kiss. 

You hum contentedly against his lips and clench around him just enough that he hisses at the sudden jolt of pleasure. “Told you I’d feel good.” You can’t help but tease him, dragging your nails along his spine until he shivers beneath your touch.

His answering smirk is endearingly lopsided. “Little minx,” he responds, lifting one hand to flick your nipple.

It sends a thrill pulsing between your thighs and a moan tumbling unrestrained from your lips. Your hands grip him that little bit tighter, but he’s solid as a rock beneath your fingers, refusing to budge even an inch in spite of his earlier promise.

“Loki, if you don’t hurry up and fuck me…” You let the threat tail off because you can feel every twitch of his cock as it’s buried inside you.

His own resolve is hanging on by a frayed thread. 

“I thought you’d never ask, dove,” he teases, and before you can give any witty reply,  his hips are finally thrusting into you. 

All you’re capable of is groaning and covering his broad back in little half moons as his cock drags exquisitely against you. It’s been so long that every ever forceful thrust engulfs you in flames and when his skilled thumb finds your swollen clit, his name is pulled from you in an unbroken stream. 

He builds you up expertly, easily, and he’s all too quickly panting and moaning like a whore right in your ear.

“Look….look at what you do to me, dove!” His voice is ragged, and he’s fucking you so hard now that the headboard is beginning to bounce off the wall. “I am yours,” he repeats, sucking another bruise into your neck until you’re writhing beneath him. 

“Fuck…Loki…’m…I’m gonna come!” you manage to force the sentence out, though it sounds like a garbled mess to your ears. You’re right at the edge, teetering deliciously on the precipice of bliss. 

He finds your lips for an eager, sloppy kiss. “Good girl. Come for me,” he says hoarsely, and you instantly soar off the edge. 

Thirteen days of denied release comes crashing down around you in a devastating wave and sends tiny white stars exploding behind your eyes. Loki’s name is all you're able to say and he’s made you come so hard that you feel boneless beneath him. 

You grip him like a vice while you ride out your climax, listening to him groaning and panting endlessly in your ear. It’s what you do to him and it’s a thought so intoxicating that it makes you dizzy. It’s you - only you - that can reduce this god to a desperate mess. 

You’ve barely come down from your high when Loki pulls out, flips you easily onto your hands and knees, and plunges back inside you.

“I hope you got enough rest while I was gone, dove,” he rasps out, gripping your hips so hard that you know you’ll be bruised in the morning. “Because I do believe I owe you three more orgasms.”

Tags: @infinitystoner @muddyorbsblr @coldnique @mochie85 @fictive-sl0th @the-lady-amphitrite @joyful-enchantress @lokisgoodgirl @simplyholl @give-me-a-moose @springdandelixn @maple-seed @loopsisloops @kinky-faerie @mischief2sarawr @wintermischief @icytrickster17 @mischief-dream @littlespaceyelf @ashtheslut @lunarnights95 @ladyofthestayingpower @currish-rosewolfe @fandxmslxt69 @liminalpebble

[valyrielwrites]

As The Heavens Move - ENDING

Chapters: 9 - COMPLETE - (full fic available on Ao3)

Relationship: Zhongli (Genshin Impact) / AFAB Reader Word Count: 3850/36,646 Summary: The Archon war rages across Teyvat, leaving untold chaos and destruction in its wake - as you earn the ire of a Chi that has stolen your home and all you hold dear, you take solace in a contract that the Lord of Geo offers. Warnings: Smut, NSFW, 18+ themes

On shaky legs you make your way down the mountain again, unable to resist the urge to find him and thank him for everything that he’s done - leftover rain dripping from your muddied and soaked clothes with each uneasy step. 

Your breath catches in your throat when you make it back to the village, when you find him in his human form with the rest of the Adepti standing in what used to be the town square surrounded by overturned carts and debris from the receding river. 

“You did it,” You laugh in disbelief. “We’re actually free…”

Your throat tightens as it hits you - the weight of it all. The sobs won’t stop as he meets you halfway, you see the bloodied scratches on his face and hands as he reaches up to wipe your tears away and feel a mixture of relief and heartbreak wash over you that he hadn’t walked away completely unscathed. 

“You’re hurt…” Morax whispers, his eyes fixed on the way you hold your wrist in a position that pains you the least.

“It’s nothing,” you downplay. “Just a sprain, what about your injuries?” 

“They will heal on their own - let me look at you.”

You try not to wince as he reaches for your arm, carefully holding it up to the light and slowly moving the joint as far as it will go before you show signs of pain. He raises a brow at you, passing a silent judgement before he strokes his fingers across the injury and allows a small amount of his power to flow into you. 

You feel your blood rush to your wrist, chasing the warmth he offers as it quickly heals as good as new.

“If only I could’ve done that for you,” You laugh a little. “We could’ve left that cave much sooner.” 

“You have done more than enough for me you lovely fool,” He smiles so warmly as he strokes his thumb across the curve of your cheek. “Had duty not called us away, I would have gladly remained in that cave with you if it meant that you would be at my side.”

You pay no attention to the rest of the Adepti as you wrap your arms around his shoulders and pull him closer, needing to touch and feel his body against your embrace, breathing in his scent as you bury your face in the crook of his neck and start crying again.

“We shall head up the mountain to help the humans,” Madam Ping approached, but you did not raise your head as Morax gently stroked your hair. “Give the two of you some time to…” 

Her voice trailed off, leaving the rest of the words unspoken - although Morax knew what she meant. Still holding you close, you felt him move only slightly as he replied with a silent nod and bid the Adepti farewell.

“I’m so tired,” You say. “Let’s stay here, please?”

“Of course.” He presses a kiss to the crown of your head. “I’ll stay a little while,” You pull your head back and look at him confused for a moment, until you understand what’s happening. His voice cracks ever so slightly. “It’s for the best.” 

He’s leaving, you realise. His debt to you was repaid. The time that Madam Ping had offered was for saying goodbye…

“No, I told you I want to help you,” you argue. “I’m coming with you, just let me see my parents first then we can -”

“My answer is unchanged since we spoke about this on Aocang, I must leave you now before you wear me down again,” He offered you a resigned smile. “You will be welcome amongst my people, once I have dealt with Osial and it is safe, I will come back for you and ask for your forgiveness then.” 

You release a shaky breath, throat tightening as you begin to feel so small and afraid at the thought of not being at his side. “But I love you…” 

“I know, my heart.” He withdraws slightly, lifting your face so that he can meet your gaze again, tears welling in his own amber eyes now as he smiles. “I know.” 

He tilts your head back to kiss you finally and you give yourself over to it - fooling yourself into believing that it would be enough to convince him, and that the taste of the salt from both your tears couldn’t spoil the sweetness of this parting embrace.

You stagger back as the kiss deepens, a wave of vertigo knocking you off balance as you pull him with you until you meet a cold stone wall. You break away breathless, taking a moment to reorient yourself as you feel his body heat pressing into you - his knee slipping between your legs, his hands unfastening your clothes, and the sudden sound of rushing water where there ought to be none. 

You open your eyes and find yourselves back in the cave, transported there in a blink of an eye, sheltered and secluded from the world behind the waterfall, a space just for the two of you. 

“How did you -” 

“With great difficulty,” He laughs and loses his balance a little, resting his head against yours as he steadies his breathing and closes his eyes with a pained expression.

“Could you always do that?” You cup his cheek in concern. 

“Yes,” He admits. “But I was injured, and also wanted you to ride me.” 

Your annoyed groan gets cut short when you feel his mouth on yours again, teasing strokes from his tongue lulling you into desire as you move in time together. You gasp at the feeling of cold air against your skin, Morax’s hands taking barely any time to remove your clothes before he reaches for the bundle of nerves between your legs, rubbing so torturously slowly with one as he slips a finger in with the other. 

You feel your legs almost buckle at the sensation, your core tightening as he thrusts up inside you, arousal coating his fingers as he pulls out and drags them across your clit, the cave wall digs into your back while you rock your hips along to the rhythm of his movements. 

You’re not even thinking when you reach for the sash at his waist, opening his clothes to reveal his hardening cock, your hand wrapping around him as he kisses you again and again until your head spins. It’s all instinct now, muscle memory from exploring every inch of each other - you remember the way he taught you to touch, the way that he tasted you… you wonder what it would be like to taste him.

“Stop.” You whisper, “Morax, stop.”

He steals a few more kisses before forcing himself to still, hands reluctantly dropping to his side as he uses his forearm to lean against the wall by your head, sucking in a desperate breath as your thumb traces across the sensitive tip of his cock.

He says nothing as you trail kisses along his neck, letting out a satisfied moan as your lips brush his collar and your hands slowly stroke as you make your way down to your knees. The floor is cold and uneven as you settle on the stone, wetting your lips before glancing up at his stunned face one last time.

You don’t break eye contact as you press an experimental kiss against the length of him, holding it in place with one hand as you drag your tongue along the shaft until you taste the pre cum gathering at his flushed tip. 

You pause when his hand weaves its way through your hair, his fingers gently gripping your scalp as he parts his lips and watches you with that inhuman golden light in his eyes, as if the anticipation from stopping might keep him here forever… But the desperate look in his eye sends chills down your spine, the thought of him filling your mouth and watching him come undone, it’s enough to break your resolve.

Morax lets out a restrained groan as your lips finally wrap around him, his eyes slamming shut as you suck the head of his cock and moan when you slowly swirl your tongue around it. You have never done this before, but hope that emulating what he had once done to you might work well enough. 

Your clit throbs at the memory of his tongue against it, the way he lapped you up and buried his face in you, so unbearably starved of stimulation while you slowly bob your head and adjust your jaw to the size of him in your mouth. You reach down to touch yourself only to find how wet you already were, so hungry for him to fill that hole too. 

“More…” It takes everything Morax has not to buck into your mouth, to let you have control as you coax low moans from his throat “Keep going.”

You hum against him as you dare to swallow more of his length, trying not to gag when the size of him hits the back of your throat, and break only when he tugs your hair back to force you to catch your breath. Your heart skips at the way he lovingly strokes your face, the way his fingers skate across your forehead before weaving their way back into your hair, the way he twitches in anticipation as you bring your lips back around him. 

You feel your own pleasure quickening beneath your fingers as you bob your head faster now, rocking your hips in time with every stroke until he stops you again.

“I need you against the wall.” He says, something dark and hungry in his tone, so you move without a second thought.

Your breath catches in your throat when he presses your warm body up against the cold stone, the change in temperature so pleasant despite how craggy and uncomfortable the rock ought to be. It feels grounded, safe even, as he brings his hands to rest against your hips and positions himself between your legs from behind, his erection resting against your buttock as he leans in and presses a kiss to the crook of your neck. 

“Morax…” You plead with him, desperate to find your release.

One of his hands slides across your belly, carefully caressing up toward your breast while he uses the other to guide himself toward your entrance. 

“I love you…” His words ghost across your skin as he finally pushes in. “I’ve loved you since the moment you told me your name.” He brings his lips right up to your ear and whispers your name so sweetly, with all the warmth and affection in the world. “My heart, my perfect ____.”

There’s no resistance from your body this time, so used to the shape of him fitting so wonderfully inside you by now, stretching so readily as his cock thrusts into you with ease. The rest of your sweet nothings blur together amidst the gasps and groans of pleasure, skin against skin, he fucks you hard and fast against the wall as if he can no longer contain the hunger that drives him. 

You feel his cock hit the spot that makes you tighten, crying out as he slams into you and grips your flesh until it feels flush and tender, his pace quickening as he desperately pours into you. He nips at your neck, biting and marking between ragged breaths and soothing kisses, his hips snapping against you until that relentless urge to come begins to pool in the pit of your stomach.

“Wait for me.” He begs. 

“I can’t” You throw your head back and wince, so wrecked with pleasure that nothing could stop you from tumbling over the edge. “Morax please…” 

“Promise me?” He kisses your cheek, holding your sweat slick bodies as close as possible as his pace falters and achingly slows. “Promise me that you’ll wait for me. That you’ll still be here when I get back.”

Something breaks in you when you realise what he means, you bring your hand to rest over his as it slides off your breast to hover over your heart, tears burning your eyes as you turn your head to meet his gaze over your shoulder. 

He looks so afraid, the golden light in his eyes dimming so much that he looks practically human, scared that you might say no - that he might lose you after this if he lets you come with him, that he might still lose you even if he doesn’t …

But after all that you have been through together, how could you walk away? Even if your debts to one another were paid, even if he was a god and you were a mortal, how could you turn from the man you had grown to love so much?

You smile sadly as you crane your neck to kiss him - longing, deep, and slow. Sighing as he stops, still buried to the hilt inside you, to return your affection with all that he has.

“I promise.” You say, quiet and resigned against his lips.

You shiver at the relieved sigh he lets out, the breathy laugh and reassurance of his presence against yours. 

“I love you ____.” He tells you again, his fingers intertwined with yours. 

“I love you too,” You reply. “Always.” 

Those five simple words are all it takes to spark something in Morax, his eyes widening as he pulls out and lifts you into his arms as you turn around. You barely have the chance to wrap your legs around him before he’s buried himself inside you again, kissing you and fucking you up against the wall with the same fervour as before - hitting you at a steeper, more deliberate angle as you let out a strangled moan. 

A few moments more and you're both coming together, pleasure burning through your core as you feel him continue to empty himself inside - his cum hot and slick as it spills out between endless thrusts that you wish would never stop. You throw your head back with a wracked moan as your orgasm peaks, waves of pleasure washing over you until you forget the sorrow that morning would bring. 

He is yours and you are his. Right now, tomorrow, and always.

His breaths are ragged and uneven as he calms, the strength in his legs sapped as he carefully unsheathes and lets you down, joining you in lying atop the pile of clothes on the ground - exhausted and finally sated. 

You spend a few hours there in each other's arms not speaking, his arm tucked under your neck as a makeshift pillow while he kisses you until you fall asleep. He holds you in his arms for longer than he ought to, committing every inch of you to memory, before he quietly slips away without another word.

EPILOGUE

Sunlight filters its way through the bamboo as Morax heads along the path, the morning air crisp and clean after so many years away. The last time he was here he had caused so much destruction, but as he looks out across the river he can hardly see the scars of battle that the earth had worked so hard to forget. 

Small dragon statues are dotted throughout the landscape to honour him and keep the corruption at bay. The grass and reeds grew long and green again, with the water finally unsullied, and a bustling village had been rebuilt up ahead. The land had finally healed under five years of the Adepti’s care.

He ought to be tired after so many battles, after the victories and losses it took to secure this peace, but the newly crowned Archon of Liyue thinks little of rest when there is still so much that remains to be done - all the contracts and promises to be kept.  

Disguised as a member of the Millelith Brigade, Morax makes his way across the bridge, the clink of his armour turning a few heads as he walks up the hill past the few rougher looking houses that remain. When he last saw this place it had been mostly washed away, and it seems as if most of the humans had rebuilt on higher ground and repurposed this space as farm land. 

“What business does a lone soldier have so far north?” A pretty young woman approaches. 

Not you, he worries but hides his nerves and disappointment well.

“I’m here to see an old friend,” He smiles and bows to the lady. “Could you direct me towards the residence of ____?”

“They’re not home,” She says. “They left with some merchants about a month ago, not sure if they plan to come back this time.” 

“I see.” Is all he can manage to reply. 

He hadn’t anticipated that.  

There had been so many nights these past five years where he replayed that promise in his mind, days where the only thing that got him through each and every battle was the knowledge that he would come home to you. 

You hadn’t lied to him when you said it, he felt the truth of it in your heart, saw it in the love that you gave, but perhaps it was as you had once told him - even the toughest of rocks can be worn down with time and the gnawing ache of affection’s absence. 

“Thank you.” He said, and turned to walk away. 

“You’re not going to ask where they went?” She asked.

“It doesn’t matter, but thank you.” 

He bowed again with the greatest of respect, and departed before she could ask anymore questions, sighing at how heavy the divinely crafted gold ring in his pocket suddenly felt. 

It would be so easy to find you but he wouldn’t. If you were not here, then that was an answer in itself, and he would respect that despite the hurt and anger it caused him. Your contract has been broken, yes. But had it been fair for him to ask that of you in the first place? 

Time is the most valuable currency that a human has, so scarce and gone in an instant no matter the manner in which it is spent. Five years had passed. Enough time for fickle love to fade in favour of apathy, the potential for distractions - a new purpose, a new love, a new family, a future… He had selfishly hoped for you to put all of that on hold so that he would return and find you unchanged from the day that he left you.

But that was not the way of humans, and he had changed in that time too. 

Morax stops his retreat when he reaches the stretch of shoreline where he had first met you, kneeling down to touch the silt where he had lay bleeding. For a moment he foolishly regrets it, wonders if he would be spared this heartbreak if you had just left him there to die, before logic resumes and he realises that he could never be sorry for loving you. The earth also remembers it faintly, a shadow of your past selves playing so prevalent in his mind that he doesn’t notice the way the sand crunches beneath the approaching footsteps.

“You came…”

He freezes. 

He slowly lifts his gaze to see you, not believing the sound of your small voice after so long apart.

“____.” Your name catches around the lump in his throat. He had planned this moment so many times in his mind - what he would say, what he would do - but now that you were finally in front of him he couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe. 

“I knew you would.” You can’t stop yourself from sobbing as you drop to your knees and wrap your arms around him. “I knew that one day, you would come back to me.”

“I thought that you had left!” He chokes out. The relief consumes him so suddenly, so intimately, when he pulls you in as close as possible.

“I did.” You laugh and squeeze him tighter, “I left lots of times, but I always came back Morax. Always.” 

“This isn’t what we agreed.” He pulls back a little and brings his hand up to stroke your face, to trace every line and curve, to see how your beauty has matured and grown since he last laid eyes upon you, falling in love with your smile all over again in an instant. “I was so scared that you… that I would never see you again.” 

“You asked me to wait for you and I kept my word. You never said that I had to wait here the whole time.”

“Trust you to try to find a loophole.” He would roll his eyes if he didn’t worry it might hurt you. “I asked you to be here when I came back.” 

“I am here, aren’t I?” You whisper, wiping away his tears. “There was a time a few years ago where I would walk up this path every night and wait for you until the sun rose… But the village needed rebuilding, staying busy and travelling was the only thing that kept me sane. I only went to check on Cloud Retainer. I came back just in time.”

“You did?” He laughs, remembering how prickly your relationship had used to be.

“I can’t fly like you.” You tease a little. “She has helped my village a great deal with reconstruction since you defeated Qingce, once a year I take our offerings to her domain to thank her.” 

“How are you still so lovely even after all this time?” He smiles, with so much warmth and joy in his longing eyes, then finally leans forward.

Your heart sings for him as your lips touch, kissing thoroughly and unhurried as your fingers tangle amidst his thick black hair. You had almost forgotten the taste, the feeling, of him - but he slips so easily back into the space his departure had left, as if the void had never been.

You may have lost so much time together until this point, but you had the rest of your human life to catch up, and Morax knew that - trusted that now. He would never leave your side again.   

“Have you come to take me back with you now that everything is settled?” You murmur against his mouth, curling his hair around your fingers.

He shakes his head a little and takes a deep breath to steel himself. 

Then Morax slowly withdraws from your embrace, as if he didn’t wish to part so soon. But this was important. This was everything. 

He looks down at the dirt where you first found him, where all of this began because of a chance encounter so long ago, and reaches into the innermost pocket beneath his armour. 

“No, my heart…” You feel faint when he holds his hand out to you, a small golden ring gleaming in the centre of his palm and another promise at the heart of it. “Just for a while, I wondered if you might let me stay?”

[gay-dorito-dust]

Can I request hc for Dick and his touch-starved but shy fem!reader please?

Dick knew something was off when he first hugged you, only to feel you tense under his touch and act as though you had the air knocked out of your lungs.

you acted as though his touch had burnt you and he immediately pulled away out of concern for you as he looked you over with those beautiful eyes of his. ‘Are you okay? You kinda tensed up on me there sweetheart.’ He asked softly as his hands stayed touching your shoulders, his thumbs caressing the skin there on impulse.

‘I’m fine it’s just that I’m a little touched starved and it’s been a long while since I last been held…I’m sorry for acting that way.’ You trailed off, averting your eyes away from his as you decided to find your shoes a lot more interesting all of a sudden.

‘No, it’s not your fault sweetheart.’ Dick hushes you gently. ‘Don’t ever say such a thing, I should be sorry that I didn’t know this about you.’ You then looked up into his eyes with wide eyes.

‘It’s not your fault either,’ you said, ‘because I didn’t tell you this sooner.’

Dick hummed. ‘Instead of blaming ourselves, how about i ask you this instead, do you not like when i touch you?’

‘No…it’s just instinct for me to flinch, I haven’t been held in so long.’ You tell him.

‘Would you like me to keep holding you? Either your consent of course.’ Dick continues.

‘If it’s not a problem.’ You murmured, fiddling with your fingers and dick smiled brightly as his hands gently squeezed your shoulders, making you tense a little but you found yourself easing into his touch soon enough, as though your body perceived him as someone you shouldn’t be afraid of having holding you.

‘Then it’s settled.’ Dick concluded with a smile. ‘I shall smother you in cuddles and affection to make up for the lack you had for all this time.’ He adds playfully and you couldn’t help but smile alongside him as well, feeling a warm feeling begin to spread throughout your chest and body as though you were encompassed in a warm blanket.

‘Okay.’ Was all you said in response and smother you he did, with your consent of course-

Dick would take his time when leading up to a hug, he’d skim your hand with his finger, asking is he could hold your hand before gently intertwining your fingers together and it felt as though your palms and fingertips were sharing secret kisses.

Then he’d trail his hand up and down your arm soothingly before bringing you into his arms as he pulls you into his chest, always doing it slowly so that you could back out at any time, before resting his head atop of your own as he hummed a soft tune into your ear while he feels you solely relax into his embrace.

He’d even feel you reciprocate the hug and audibly sigh into his chest as you squeezed him back as though your life depended on it, you might even fall asleep once or twice against him because his embraces were that comforting to you.

It was adorable for dick to see you this relaxed in his arms, almost as though you were melting into a puddle in his hold, but he couldn’t help but smile and press reassuring kisses and speak words of comfort into you however he could. He just wanted you to feel safe and secure within his arms and he’ll gladly keep doing this for the rest of his life it if meant it being easier on you to accept his love and affection. Then he’ll do it for you.

And sooner or later, few thousand hugs, cuddles and other forms of physical affection later and one morning while he was making you both breakfast, he felt you hug his back and while sure you were shy and uncertain whether you should go through with it, but it was too late as Dick dropped the spatula and moved to hold you tightly against his chest as he smothered your face in kisses; overwhelming you slightly.

‘You’re hugging me!’ Dick exclaimed.

‘I thought it was only natural for me to return the favour.’ You said, voice muffled when dick presses your face against his chest but you smiled and snuggled closer into his embrace, feeling the wave of sleep you had fought off to hug him slowly coming back to haunt you tenfold, especially more so when you were in the best place to fall asleep; dicks arms.

‘Aren’t you just perfect.’ Dick cooed as he buried his head into your shoulder, spreading kisses there even after he stopped to hear your breath hitch slightly in your that, before continuing to pepper more kisses for the sake of showing you just how much love in his heart he has for you.

‘I’m nothing special.’ You waved off, a little flustered from his words and physical affection together, rubbing his back soothingly like he did with yours multiple times.

‘Let me tell you something babe, you are very much special to me.’ Dick ensured as he breathed you in deeply. ‘Very special indeed.’ He adds barely above a whisper but as long as it stayed between the two of you, it was more than audible.

[madhatterbri]

Home | Lord Debling

Summary: After coming home from a trip, Lord Debling craves his Y/N. 18+.

Author's Note: Let's be honest real quick. If Penelope chose Alfred, she wouldn't have dealt with that drama.

Lord Debling Masterlist

Taglist: @theworldofotps @plentyoffandoms

"I will never tire of the way you taste," Lord Alfred Debling muttered against her skin. Y/N moaned as his tongue connected with her sensitive bundle of nerves. She expected to be awarded a longer break. It seemed her husband was making up for lost time. Her hands gripped the couch arms. A soft cry came from her kiss swollen lips.

Lord Debling kissed his way to her face. A trail of her juices and his saliva left against her burning skin. His lips connected to hers. Once repulsed by her taste, she gladly accepted him. Once her lips parted in a sigh, his tongue slid in her mouth. He pulled away to catch his breath.

"And I never tire of you, my Alfred," she confessed. Words she never had to speak, but he loved to hear. His hands grabbed her hips. His fingers kneaded the flesh of her buttocks. She felt him part her legs. One propped on the top of the couch.

"I dreamed of you every night on my journey," he told her. The tip of his length slid between her folds. She gasped and looked into his eyes. "Some dreams you were in my arms. We were talking about our children. Most of them, though, was this,"

Alfred took his time pushing himself inside of her. He wanted to revel every moment. The way her mouth dropped as her walls accommodated him. Her beautiful eyes, filled with lust, stared into his. Her chest heaved up and down.

Once he bottomed out inside of her, he remained still. Alfred missed her tight walls clench around him. The feel of her body trying to keep him in was heavenly. He started to thrust in and out of her.

"Oh, my Lord," she moaned and rolled her head to the side. She closed her eyes, embracing the pleasures that came with her husband. Once she opened her eyes, she gasped.

A full-length mirror hid nothing of their sexual activities. His face was buried in her neck as he kissed and licked her sweet spots. She raised her leg that rested on the couch. Her eyes transfixed as she saw her body take each thrust. Alfred must have noticed her becoming silent.

"What is it?" He asked and moved from her neck. Alfred's reflection smiled at the realization. "Have you been wanting to see how you look?"

"No, my Lord. I just," she blushed and looked at him. He grabbed her chin and kissed her lips. She melted in the kiss.

"Then look in the mirror. See how you unravel from my cock," he smiled and moved her face to watch the mirror. Alfred grabbed her leg and propped it on his shoulder.

Y/N blushed at the lewdness. He changed the rhythm of his thrusts. Alfred almost pulled himself out before snapping back in. Her walls tried to grip him to stay longer. His hand rested on her lower stomach before lowering between her legs. Within moments, his thumb rubbed her clit.

"My Lord, please," she begged. Y/N gripped the top of the couch and the cushion below her. He watched the mirror. His lips peppered kisses on her leg.

"Go ahead. I want you to see yourself," he told her. "I can feel you. You want this,"

Y/N called for him. Her orgasm washing over her. She watched herself before her mind completely fuzzed out. He stilled inside of her. Spurts of his cum dumping inside. Alfred hoped this would produce their heir.

"Come. I will draw you a bath. Tomorrow, we shall explore your sudden fascination with the mirror more,"

[multi-fandom-imagine]

Day 23:“Breasts/thighs are my favorite part to nibble on.”

Fandom: Baldurs Gate 3

Character: Halsin

Naughty or Nice

Warnings: oral, biting

A/n: i have fucking issues because i said i wasn't gonna do it but here i am...doing it

It was another cold night, you had to thank winter for that, you couldn't help but feel a shiver rush down your spine thanks to the wind.

And with Halsin being the considerate lover he was made his way over to you, tugging you close to the fire.

“Are you cold, my heart?”

Seeing your pout convinced him enough as he deep chuckle escaped his lips as he pulled you into his lap as he nuzzled his nose into your neck. "Allow me to keep you warm?"

Beaming up at the man, you felt your body be in cased with warmth as you nuzzled your face into his neck. "You're so warm." Letting out a soft sight you relaxed more into your lovers embrace. "Halsin, may I ask you something."

Halsin caresses your cheek gently, his voice filled with a tender concern. "Of course, my love. You're always free to ask me anything. What is it that troubles your mind?" His thumb traces soft circles on your skin, soothing and comforting.

Shifting your body so you were more comfortable as you enjoyed his touch."What is your favorite part to nibble on me...my breast's or thighs."

Halsin's eyes widen slightly at your question, a mischievous spark dancing in their depths. He leans in closer, his breath warm against your ear. "My love, it is difficult for me to choose just one, for both your breasts and thighs are equally delectable. Each one holds the promise of pleasure, of indulgence. Perhaps," he whispers huskily, "we could explore and savor both, taking our time to enjoy every inch of your exquisite form." His voice is filled with desire and playful anticipation.

Shifting your body into his lap you giggles bossing your head quickly as your fingers danced across his chest. "I would like that very much."

Halsin's deep voice rumbles with a mixture of desire and amusement as he feels your movements against his lap. He tightens his embrace around you, his lips brushing against your earlobe. "Oh, my love, I can feel your eagerness," he murmurs. "And rest assured, I will gladly fulfill your desires. But let us take our time, savoring each moment. Tonight, we shall explore the depths of passion and pleasure together." He punctuates his words with a gentle nibble on your ear, his fingers tracing teasing patterns along your back.

As the fire crackles in the background, casting warm hues across the room, Halsin's grip tightens around you. With a hunger in his eyes, he lowers his lips to meet yours in a searing kiss, tongues dancing and mingling in a passionate tango.

Gradually, his hands glide along the contours of your body, fiery trails of sensation left in their wake. With a tender touch, he caresses your breasts, his fingertips tracing circles, teasing and coaxing your sensitive flesh. The warmth of his touch spreads through you, igniting a growing ache of desire.

His lips trail a path of heated kisses down your neck, nipping and sucking on the delicate skin, eliciting soft gasps and moans from your lips. Halsin's hands continue their journey, descending along the curves of your body, until they reach the silky expanse of your thighs. He kneads and massages, applying just enough pressure to make you squirm with anticipation.

With a low growl of desire, Halsin guides you to lie back, his eyes locked onto yours, filled with an intoxicating mix of adoration and primal lust. Slowly, he spreads your legs, exposing the glistening essence of your desire. Positioning himself between your thighs, he takes a moment to admire the sight before him, the scent of your arousal filling the air.

His lips trace a path from your collarbone to your exposed breasts, his tongue encircling each nipple before sucking and teasing them to hardened peaks. The flick of his tongue against your sensitive flesh sends shockwaves of pleasure coursing through your veins.

Halsin's fingers find their way back to your throbbing core, his touch deliberate and confident. His lips descend further, kissing along the delicate line of your stomach, until he reaches the apex of your desire. With a slow, teasing lick, he samples the sweet essence of your arousal, his expert tongue delving into your depths, exploring the slick, heated caverns.

The sensations overwhelm you, your body arching in response, a symphony of moans and sighs escaping your lips. Halsin's ministrations continue, his mouth and fingers working in tandem, a dance of pleasure and fulfillment. His touch becomes more demanding, his fingers delving deep within, while his lips and tongue lavish attention on your throbbing clit, sending waves of pleasure radiating through every nerve ending.

You writhe and moan beneath his expert touch, every stroke, flick, and suck driving you closer to the edge of ecstasy. With each passing second, the tension builds within you, reaching a crescendo that threatens to consume you entirely.

Finally, with a primal groan, you unravel in a cascade of pleasure, your body convulsing in Halsin's grasp. He holds you tenderly, whispering sweet words of adoration as he helps you ride out the waves of your climax, his touch never faltering.

As the aftershocks subside, Halsin rises from his position, a satisfied smile gracing his lips. He leans down, his eyes filled with warmth and tenderness. "My love, that was but the beginning. There is so much more I want to explore with you," he whispers, his voice laced with an unmistakable hunger. And with that promise, the night unfolds into a tapestry of passion and pleasure, with Halsin as your passionate guide.

[ineffablesuffering]

There Must Be an Angel (Aziraphale x reader)

I'd like to thank @avocado-writing for the inspo for this fic. They recommended I add this song to my 80s playlist (because I totally forgot this song existed) and this fic was born! I think this is classed as a songfic? I'm not too sure, anyway enjoy! <3

Pairing: Aziraphale x Reader

Warnings: unorganised bookshelves

Word count: 948 (short and sweet, might write a part 2?)

Masterlist

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

“Aziraphale?” you called as you walked through the door of the bookshop, the familiar comforting scent of dust, tea and incense filled your nostrils.

“Ah, Y/N! I was wondering when you would get here,” he said appearing from the back room. “How are you, my dear?” he asked, embracing you.

You gladly returned his embrace “I’m good thank you, how are you?”

“Much better now that you’re here,” he smiled “Shall we get started?”

You had agreed to help Aziraphale organise his books after Jim/Gabriel (you never were sure what to call him) had attempted to sort them in his own unique way. It had been driving him up the wall as he could never find what he was looking for. You were more than happy to help out a friend in need, besides, you enjoyed his company. You nodded and let him show you where he wanted you to start.

“It’s been so frustrating trying to find anything since,” he stopped and sighed “I’m not even going to mention it because it just annoys me. If you want to start here with whatever this is, I’ll start over there,” he pointed to a bookshelf on the other side of the room.

“Sure!” you said cheerfully, “you don’t mind if I listen to some music while I work, do you? Helps me concentrate.”

“Not at all my dear,” he said with a smile, “whatever helps you.” He gave your shoulder a pat before walking off to where he would be working.

You smiled at him as he walked off, pulling your headphones out of your bag and connecting them to your phone. You selected a playlist and got started. The shelves were a disaster zone but at least they were all of the same genre otherwise it would have taken all day to fix whatever was going on. You began by gently taking off all the books from the shelves and placing them on a table nearby before deciding that it would be best to alphabetise by author. Getting stuck in, you bopped along to the music playing on your headphones, singing quietly to yourself every so often. The time passed rather quickly and soon you were on to a new section.

You decided to take the section next to the one where you had started and repeated the process. Taking books of the shelf, placing them on a table and reorganising them. You changed your playlist to an 80’s one and continued to sing along quietly. The smooth sounds of Eurythmics played through your ears. You smiled and continued to work. “I walk into an empty room, and suddenly my heart goes boom, it’s an orchestra of angels and they’re playing with my heart,” you sang.

Aziraphale stopped in the middle of putting a book back on the shelf a few aisles away. He could hear you singing softly to yourself almost as if you didn’t think anyone could hear you. You weren’t singing loudly but it was definitely loud enough for him to hear. He tilted his head slightly, not recognising the song but the fact that you were singing about angels definitely caught his attention. He peaked out from the bookshelf that he was organising and walked around to where you were working.

“I must be hallucinating watching angels celebrating,” you continued to sing.

He stopped when he reached you and stood and watched as you continued to sing softly, not noticing he was standing there. He watched with a soft smile on his lips, you seemed so content organising and singing. You continued to place book by book back on the shelf in an organised manner and he just watched. You started to sing what he assumed to be a different song.

“I hear your voice, it’s like an angel sighing, I have no choice, I hear your voice feels like flying,” you sang.

Aziraphale leans slightly against the bookshelf just watching you. His eyes danced across your figure as you worked, he felt like he could watch you all day. You turned around ready to start on a new set of shelves and jump at the sight of Aziraphale watching you.

“Jesus Christ!” you said, getting a fright “I didn’t hear you come up behind me, is everything okay?” you laughed taking off your headphones.

Aziraphale chuckled, “Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you. I just heard you singing, you’ve got a lovely voice.”

You blushed and bashfully dropped your gaze to the ground. You hadn’t realised that you were singing loud enough for him to hear you. “Thanks,” you mumbled. Aziraphale stepped closer to you, taking your chin between his thumb and forefinger, forcing you to look at him.

“There’s no need to be shy my dear,” he smiles moving his hand from your chin to brush a finger across your cheek, almost appreciating the blush. “It was quite beautiful. Almost angelic.” You stood there, gaping at him. You didn’t know what to say or how to react. “What were you singing darling?” he asked softly, snapping you out of your trance.

“Oh! Um what song?” you asked

“The last two just there.”

“Ah, so that was There Must Be an Angel and then the second one was called Like a Prayer.”  

“Hmm, I see,” he started “fitting do you not think?” Again, you were at a loss for words. What is going on? You thought to yourself. Aziraphale smiled at you, a knowing glint in his eyes. “Tea?” he asked. You didn’t say a word as you found yourself staring at him as he walked away.