#crown fics

[justaz]

im not a fan of modern merthur but the idea of them meeting in modern times and introducing themselves to each other and them laughing and bonding over their names being connected to the myth of king arthur and camelot is just so cute

[pastafossa]

"Sharing is Caring" (Matt Murdock x F!Reader, Fic, 🔥)

Time for the next prompt for my Tuna-Tober prompt challenge! This is for day 4 (Matt very much did not like this only being a drabble so now it's 5600 words, fuck me), I chose to combine the kink and fluff prompts (69 and 'Are you blushing?'). You can see the rest of the prompts I've chosen here if you'd like to know what's coming this month from me. Also, if you'd like notifications when I post a new story, drabble, or chapter, you can follow my sideblog @pastaxandria and set it for notifications! And off we go!

Ship: Matt Murdock x F!Reader

Wordcount: 5.6k, Matt fought me and won

Warnings for this chapter, let's do this: smutty smut smut, 69 position so oral for both plus face riding, overstimulation, lil bit of prostate stim, multiple orgasms, panty tearing, matt is a MENACE

LOOK AT THIS SMUG MOTHERFUCKER, I HAD A NEAT AND ORDERLY TIMELINE AND A DRABBLE OUTLINE, INSTEAD HE THREW THAT OUT THE WINDOW AND HE HAS FILLED THIS FIC WITH SIN, THE AUDACITY, WHAT TIME IS IT, MATT THIS IS YOUR FAULT

Matt was a giving lover. That much you knew. 

No round of sex with Matt ended without at least one orgasm for you, and often more if he had his way, which he often did, the audacity of that man. It wasn’t unusual for him to spend hours with his head buried between your thighs, skilled tongue lapping hungrily at your sex in a way that made you see stars, and had also led to you tearing a hole in the sheets on more than one occasion. He’d bent you over every last surface in the apartment, and some of the surfaces outside it too. Somehow he always managed to sink himself so deeply inside you that you’d have sworn you felt him in your throat, and that feeling was always followed by him fucking into you with a practiced athleticism that never failed to leave you a melted, howling mess. 

In other words, if sex with you was an artform, your climax was the masterpiece Matt lovingly devoted himself to creating. You’d never been with someone who took such joy in giving you pleasure. But sometimes he was… too giving.

Like now, when what you wanted was to get that thick cock of his into your mouth. 

“Oh, but sweetheart, I’m so hungry,” he purred, a warm, distracting light in his eyes. He was all heat and hungry fire where he stood in the bedroom doorway, a slow, lazy lick of his lips that admittedly had your cunt clenching around nothing. That look meant he had no intention of letting you out of bed for at least the next three hours. The growing outline of his hardening cock against his slacks only confirmed your suspicion as his voice dropped into something low and tempting. “I’ve been thinking about tasting you all day. It’s the only reason I got through work. Let me get my mouth on you, just for a little while. I’ll make it good for you, you know I will. Don’t you want that?”

It was a good offer. A very good offer, and one he was more than capable of fulfilling. You both knew it. But damn it, you also knew what you wanted. 

“No,” you said stubbornly, crossing your arms. “I don’t want that.” “Lie,” he murmured. His head cocked, his sightless gaze dropping to your chest, and then lower until they landed somewhere around your hips. His lips slowly curled up into a smirk. “Mm, big lie.” “...Alright, so maybe I always want that,” you admitted reluctantly, biting your lip as you stared down at the outline of your prize, heavy and thick even through the cloth. It was enough to make your mouth water. “But right now I want to suck you off more.” 

And god, did you ever. It was rare for him to let you go down on him, but those memories had become regulars in your fantasies. There was just something about his soft moans and hitched whines when you took him in your mouth, the way he threw his head back and his mouth hung slack, his spine arching when you let the tip of your tongue gently brush that spot below the head of his cock until he fucking begged for you to swallow him down. And if you kept going after he’d already come, kept sucking at his softening cock and pressed your knuckle just right behind his balls, drove his trembling, writhing body carefully into overstimulation, you could even drag something like a second orgasm out of him in short succession. He’d been a melted, purring, barely coherent puddle for a good hour when you'd last managed it and you had every intention of seeing if you couldn’t do it again. 

His brows shot up, as if he were genuinely surprised at just how truthful you’d been, or maybe surprised at just aroused the thought of your mouth on him made you. But those same brows quickly furrowed in open confusion. “You…” His head shifted back and forth, checking again that you were telling the truth. “You want that? Over me going down on you?” “Why is it so hard to believe I want you like you want me?” You snorted, wandering over to him until you could lean in and kiss him playfully. He still seemed puzzled, but he made a little huff of amusement when you did it again, dragging your nails down the front of his shirt. His chest rumbled beneath your touch, a quiet groan of pleasure. “Come on. Share, Matt. Let me have a taste this time.” 

He tipped his head down slowly towards you, clearly tempted. You leaned into him, another rumble leaving him when your lips brushed tantalizingly against the corner of his mouth. You almost had him. The blatant note of your arousal in the air would only help your case now that you were up close. There was a growing flush on his cheeks, and his nostrils flared, taking your scent in when you not-so-subtly rubbed your thighs together. You slowly hooked one finger in his belt, giving it a tug. “Please?” Your desire left you almost breathless, the word hushed and pleading. You weren’t above begging if you needed to. “I need you in my mouth, Matt. You can have me after, can’t you?” “Or…” He drew his lower lip between his teeth for a moment, sucking lightly before letting it go,  his mouth parted and wet. “Or we can both get what we want, with a few adjustments.” Oh. 

Your breath caught, and you went still, something thick and rich as molten honey rolling through your veins. “Why, sweetheart,” he murmured, dipping his head until he could feather his lips over your ear. One of his fingers brushed over your sternum, so light you almost didn’t feel it, before it traced its way gradually up your throat to your cheek, stirring all the tiny hairs in its wake. “Are you blushing?” “No,” you whispered, caught up in visions of what that might look like, feel like, to have his tongue licking its way hungrily into your cunt, all while you took his cock in your mouth and tried your best to make him lose his mind. Would he grow sloppy then, clumsy when you toyed with the head of him? Or would he tap into that focus of his, the two of you in a blatant competition to see who broke first? You wouldn’t deny just how wet the idea made you, but that would also be a lot of sensation for him, especially when you both knew he could come from the taste of your cunt alone. “Or… yes, I… Would that be… too much? Your senses—”

“I’ll be fine. I may have…” He let out a low chuckle, his own cheeks now the lightest bit pink as he cleared his throat. “I may have gone into the office bathroom before I left work, and… taken care of myself. I’d been thinking about my head between your thighs all day. I had to make sure I could get home.”

The visual slammed into you with the force of a truck: Matt with one scarred hand pressed tight over his mouth to stifle his moans while he frantically stroked at his cock. And it was all because he’d spent hours thinking about how he was going to go home, throw you into bed, and find his way right down to your cunt. Your low moan was quickly swallowed up as he caught your chin and tipped your head up so his lips could find yours. The kiss was all teeth and burning heat, fire and fierce need, his stubble rasping against your skin until you felt like you were on fire. One of his hands swept down and behind you, fingers spread wide as he groped roughly, greedily against your ass. He used that same grip to haul you forward into him, making you whine when his hips ground into yours, letting you feel exactly what you’d done to him. “Fuck,” he breathed. “I can smell you, how wet you are. Tell me you want that, sweetheart. Tell me—” “God yes, please, please, Matt.”

You didn’t bother to keep track of where your clothes fell as you both stumbled your way into the bedroom, neither of you willing to pull your hands and mouths off each other long enough to figure that out. You managed to get everything off but your panties by the time you neared the bed, and you fully intended to slide those off, too, but you were distracted by the pleasure of Matt’s mouth as he determinedly nipped and licked at the skin of your throat, blatantly drinking the pheromones from your skin. Fortunately, Matt was a bit less distracted.

The tearing of fabric rang out, and then Matt’s fingers slipped between your soaked folds, stroking three fingers eagerly along your slit until you gasped out his name. 

“Oops,” he said with a smirk.

“You’re paying for those,” you grumbled. “Happily.” He side stepped around you, and by the time you’d turned he was already on the bed,  rolling onto his back and tipping his head back in clear expectation. Then he brought his wet, gleaming fingers up to his mouth, inhaling intently as he rubbed his fingers together. The reaction was immediate: a fierce groan, his other hand shooting down to wrap tightly around his cock as his hips bucked. 

“Shit,” you whispered, absolutely mesmerized as he took another greedy breath, a creeping flush spreading across his pale skin. He may have come an hour or so ago, but his cock already looked achingly hard, the whole of it flushed dark and red, a decadent droplet of precum beading at the tip. He was an absolute vision, all of that strength and power, the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen laid out like a meal for you, this affected just by the thought, the scent of your arousal. It lit a fire in you, and Matt must have sensed it, because he let out a growl before giving in and shoving his fingers into his mouth. His eyes snapped shut, a loud moan tearing through him. His other hand started to stroke quickly at his cock, firm drives up with a smooth sweep of his palm over the head before sliding back down, all as he sucked the taste of you eagerly from his fingers, unwilling to lose even a single drop. It was one of the hottest things you’d ever seen. “Holy shit, you’re trying to kill me.” “Get up here and ride my face, sweetheart,” he grit out, shifting to let his thumb rub against the wet head of his cock. A delicious shiver ran through him, and he rolled his head on the pillow to face you. There was something far darker in his eyes, then, whispers of the Devil, of merciless rain on hard city streets. “Do it before I drag you up here myself, because I’m not going to fucking care if you can reach my cock when I do.”

It was the only invitation you needed, and you scrambled up onto the bed before he could change his mind. You had no intention of missing the opportunity he’d given you. 

You hit another brief snag, however, once you’d crawled over to him. You’d ridden his face before, but that had always been with you facing the headboard or the arm of the couch. This required the opposite angle. After a moment’s consideration, one that ended quickly when Matt growled a warning, you muttered a quiet, “fuck it,” and did a half turn, throwing your leg quickly over him so you had a knee on either side of his shoulders. Then you walked back a step or two on your knees, Matt’s free hand taking the meat of your thigh in his grip. It was difficult to figure out just where you needed to be to get the angle right. All you could see from this angle was his body stretched out like a long, open road before you, his other hand still stroking roughly at his cock, his knees bent, feet braced so he could rut lazily up into his grip. You didn’t really know where to put your hands, so you settled for placing them against the broad line of his chest, using them to brace yourself as you tentatively adjusted.

Matt, however, had lost his patience. 

With a snarl, he let go of his cock. Both his hands caught your hips, and with one hard yank he wrenched you down, burying his mouth against your pussy as if he hadn’t eaten in days. 

You both let out a sharp moan, Matt’s far more muffled than yours. There was no gentleness now, no parting you with his fingers to tease you with the tip of his tongue before settling in. Instead, it was something ravenous and filthy, animalistic, Matt’s mouth open wide as he licked and sucked at your folds and slit, greedily drinking up every last drop of your arousal he could find. For a moment you forgot what your plan had been. Your head fell to rest against his abdomen, your lips parted on a whine as Matt devoured your slick with heavy grunts and rumbles of approval, your hips starting to rock against his mouth. He was eating at you with everything in him, no thought given to things like air, based on his hitched breathing and muffled groans. He’d told you once, lips curled into a smirk, his chin still wet with your arousal, that if he died between your thighs, well, he’d consider that death a victorious one. 

“Mm—Matt, oh god, please,” you whimpered, your fingers curling against his skin, red lines left in your wake.

 Apparently satisfied that he’d taken in everything he could get, Matt tipped his head down just a hair, using his grip on your hips to adjust you until his tongue found your clit. With a purr, he began to lap warmly, steadily at it, over and over and over again, every now and then pursing his lips to kiss at it with a fond affection that was almost tender. The attention to your clit made your eyes flutter shut, quiet whimpers escaping you with each pass of his tongue, your body clenching in want. At the fresh trickle of wetness, Matt groaned in delight. “Taste so good, sweetheart, all mine,” he slurred warmly, syllables thick and sounding almost drugged, before his tongue found you again, falling right back into his aphrodisiac of choice. As he did, his body began to shift beneath you, before settling into a steady rocking. Startled, your eyes fluttered open, and you glanced down his body. What you saw made your mouth fall slack.

Matt had begun to roll his hips, rutting up in lazy waves. At first you thought it might be an invitation, a reminder, but as you watched you quickly realized what he was doing. With every flex and buck of his hips, he managed to rub his cock against his abdomen, just a little. You could already see the smears of precum pooling in the lines and grooves of flexing muscle, and that only made each successful contact smoother, Matt’s moans against your cunt growing stuttered and hoarse. It likely wouldn’t have been enough sensation for anyone else, but for Matt and his senses, it was just enough to drive him further upwards, his thick thighs starting to tremble. Hell, he was probably enjoying it, considering how he liked to tease himself. 

Fortunately, it was also a reminder of what you’d wanted to do. 

You quickly stretched out above him, headed for your goal. Your hips shifted just a little as you did, and Matt let out a low, possessive growl, his hands tightening on your hips in a warning. He didn’t like the idea that you might pull away before he was done, you had a feeling.

“Relax.” You choked out a shaky laugh, lowering your head to kiss fondly at the crest of his hip. Your affection softened his growl to a gentler, contented groan. “Just-just trying to get to you.” He seemed soothed by that, at least. Then again, maybe he just wasn’t listening, far too focused on your cunt to really hear you. Either way it didn’t matter, because you’d finally maneuvered yourself to where you’d wanted to be. You braced one hand shakily on his thigh, some of your weight settling down on top of him. His chest rose and fell on a happy sigh beneath you, more than happy to have you sprawled out over him. It also meant his cock was now in range of your mouth. 

It was even more tantalizing up close, flushed, wet, and practically begging for your attention even if Matt’s mouth was otherwise occupied. You eagerly caught the base of it, wrapping your fingers tight around it. Beneath you he let out a grunt, his tongue faltering against your clit. You had no interest in waiting any longer, so without a second’s hesitation you dipped your head and stuck out your tongue, catching one of the drops of precum rolling down the shaft. From there you rose with one long drag along his length, following that damp trail back up to his tip like you might a melting drop of ice cream. The moment your tongue swept over the head of Matt’s cock, he let out a startled moan, one that morphed into a hoarse cry when you lapped warmly at his slit, chasing the taste of him, taking in every fresh drop that welled up beneath your attention. It had been far too long since you’d gotten to taste him like this, bitter and salty in equal measure, the scent of musk and sex so much stronger here.

“God,” he choked out, squirming beneath you, his hands practically clawing at your hips. His head dropped back and away from your cunt as he gasped up to the ceiling, breath hitching on a high moan as the strokes of your tongue grew more firm. “Ah-ah! Your mouth, sweetheart, I need it, just—”

Time to see if you could break him before he broke you.

You dropped your mouth open wide before starting to slide him into your mouth, using your hand at his base to angle him and make it a little easier. But easier was… relative. 

Shit, you thought with a low moan, one that had Matt crying out behind you. He was so fucking thick, broad enough that you felt a faint ache in your jaw, saliva already leaking out past the corners of your mouth to drip down his length. There was no graceful way to swallow him down, but the sensation of your saliva rolling down his shaft, your stifled huffs through your nose as you slowly worked your way down his cock had him absolutely wrecked. His body trembled beneath you, his hips jerking in an only barely aborted attempt to thrust up into the warm, wet cavern of your mouth. He actually whined when you gave him your first little suck, and those whines only grew in number as you did it again, his panting music to your ears, so wet you were practically dripping down onto him. And maybe you really had, because before you could blink, he’d yanked your hips back down. This time, however, he brought his hands around so he could use his thumbs to part your body for him. With a wild moan, he’d buried his mouth against your slit, licking hotly at your opening over and over until he’d managed to worm his tongue inside you.

Your eyes rolled back at the feel of his tongue lapping eagerly at your inner walls, his chin grinding roughly against your clit. He’d burrowed in so hard against you it was if were intent on drowning, on latching onto you and never letting go. The angle was perfect, and you found yourself grinding down instinctively against his face, riding his tongue inside you and the stubbled texture of his chin, chasing your pleasure just as you were seeking his. His delighted moan as you started to use him the way he wanted was so muffled you swore he shouldn’t have been able to breathe, but still you couldn’t bring yourself to stop, whining around the length of him in your mouth as he slurped deeper, your thighs locking up around his head, his skin slick with you. He was dangerously close to coming based on the way his cock had started to throb against your tongue, and you weren’t much further behind, but he was clearly aiming to get you there first.

No.

No, you wanted to ruin him too.  Focus, just a little more. You clumsily lifted your head halfway up before skating back down to meet your hand around his base. Neither of you were coordinated enough to make this last much longer, too distracted by the rising waves of pleasure, but that didn’t matter. You knew his body. You could outlast him, by a few seconds at least. But to do that, you’d need one more thing. So, determined to win, you quickly worked your free hand down past his cock, pausing to knead briefly at his sac just for the way it made him moan roughly against your cunt before you drifted past it. You didn’t slide your fingers inside him—something you both hadn’t tried quite yet—but you did curl one finger and press your knuckle up gently just behind his balls, indirect pressure against that spot deep inside him. 

His back arched so sharply and suddenly beneath you he almost managed to throw you off, and his choked gasp hit air as he threw his head back. With a shaky whine, he ground down desperately against your finger before snapping his hips up, clearly torn between the wet suction of your mouth around his cock and the firm pressure against his prostate. But unlike last time he’d thrown his head back, this time you followed his mouth with your hips. You were too close to that edge now to go without it, especially not with the noises he was making—whimpers and broken moans, slurred pleas—so you tried desperately to find his lips again, grinding down against his face. And though you were reluctant to let him go, you still managed to tear your mouth off his cock just long enough to gasp out, “Fuck, Matt, please!” 

Your begging dragged him up out of his haze, and he hunted for your clit with his lips and tongue, licking at your cunt until he finally found it. He closed his lips around it just as you did the same to the head of his cock. Two warm pulls of your mouth to match his, and with one more shove of your finger against that spot inside him, he cried out and came hard into your mouth in salty, bitter waves that tasted like fucking satisfaction. His hoarse moans, desperate and so very needy wound up pushing you the rest of the way. Matt’s tongue lapped sloppily against your clit, and with a moan that matched his, you joined him in falling over the edge, your body tightening and releasing in a rolling tide of pleasure that left you floating, whimpering his name around his cock. He quickly shoved his mouth against your slit, grunting as he greedily drank down everything your body gave him. 

You thought you were done, then, your chest heaving, your thighs shaking as the waves began to ease into aftershocks. Matt nuzzled roughly at your clit, his tongue brushing over it almost curiously. Abruptly he moaned, dragging your hips back down. “Don’t stop,” he rasped hoarsely, yanking your hips back down. Just like that, his mouth was on your clit again, which was great except that you still hadn’t quite finished the last orgasm. The sudden rush of overstimulation before you could fully come down left you shaking, clawing wildly at his thighs, but your squirming got you nowhere, your hips firmly held in an iron grip.

Don’t stop. 

There wasn’t much you could do but follow the instruction. 

You moaned and began to suck clumsily at him, the velvet softness of his cock cradled gently on your tongue. The noise he let out was strangled and hoarse, almost pained, because this had to be too much for him, it had to be, and yet… he couldn’t resist starting to rock up instinctively against your mouth, a broken whimper breathed against your cunt when you managed to probe your tongue against the tip of him. You knew, distantly, remembered that you’d had this plan: if you did this fast enough, did this just right, using his senses to your benefit, you could make him come again. And, well, it had helped before, so you slipped on hand down between his legs again, grinding your finger hard against that spot inside him in steady waves, sucking harder at his cock just for the way it made him writhe. His head snapped back against the pillows, his hands dropping away from you to fist in the sheets. He brokenly cried out your name, his thighs trembling, but you didn’t care, your goal in sight. One of these days you were going to get your fingers inside him to see what noises he made then, and just to taunt him, you hooked and curled your fingers against his soft skin, your message clear. 

You weren’t sure who was more startled when he came—you, or him—but  either way, he did, his cock only half-hard at best as he snapped his hips up, his body locking up as he spilled into your mouth. He made a sound you’d never heard from him before, one part shout and one part high, hitching moan, the sounds rising falling with each jagged wave of pleasure you dragged him through, almost enough to hide the sound of tearing fabric. There wasn’t much left for his body to give, granted, but you still accepted those few drops anyway, swallowing them down with a satisfied moan as you milked him dry, massaging your fingers against his cock and that spot inside him to drag it out. You didn’t stop until his sounds grew pained, and even then it was a struggle. You had to force yourself to lift your head, sitting back against his chest. The sudden return of pressure against your clit made you whimper, your body shaking, because despite the overstimulation, as predicted he’d managed to shove you up far enough again that you were hanging right on the edge again, orgasm just a breath away.

“Matt,” you choked out, not even sure what it was you needed—his hand maybe, or even just for him to hold still so you could ride some part of him, be it his chest or his abdomen. One glance over your shoulder, however, let you unsure of what he might be able to give. 

Matt’s head was still thrown back on the pillow, his wet mouth hanging open as he panted, hair damp and sticking up in every direction. His eyes were glazed over and dark, absent any real awareness or thought. You knew that look. It was one you usually only saw when you’d really managed to fuck him senseless or leave him wrecked. He was out of it, his senses momentarily overloaded, out of order, come back later. You quickly pulled yourself off of him, just in case your weight over him had been unpleasant. He’d need some time to come back to himself, but fortunately, sitting here and staring at what you’d done—Matt Murdock, fucked out and drunk off your body—would be just the sort of visual you needed as you took care of yourself. You dropped one hand, sliding it between your legs until you could circle your clit with your fingertips, your lips parting on a satisfied moan. It wasn’t as good as Matt, but it was good enough.

Or… that’s what you thought you’d do, until Matt’s head snapped in your direction. His hand darted up, grabbing for you.

Except that he missed, his hand snatching at the empty air about two inches to your left.

“Matt,” you huffed shakily, using your other hand to take his. He probably just wanted to stay close, he usually did when you got him like this. “I’m-I’m fine, just, unh, gonna fini—Matt!” 

Your hand brushing against his had apparently been the compass he needed. You abruptly found yourself shoved back onto the bed with a grunt. He was on his hands and knees before you could blink, scrambling and groping around the bed to feel out how you’d fallen, his eyes burning and wild. The moment he made contact with you again, he shoved his head forward with a growl, mouthing at you, licking, biting at whatever skin he could find, which happened to be your ribs, the nip of his teeth sharp enough to make you cry out. You knew that you knew you’d have a mark there tomorrow, one to join the bruises on your hip. But it clearly wasn’t the part of you he’d been aiming for, and he snarled in clear frustration, swinging his head back and forth in a failed attempt to orient before he managed to find your hips with his hands. Your own hands wound up tangled in his hair as he dragged himself roughly over your legs, and fuck, if he was offering, you were happy to take it. You canted your hips, tugging at his hair to direct him. “Here!” you gasped, pushing his head down between your thighs. “Here, Matt, right—”

He buried his face sloppily against your cunt again, not a hint of shame or hesitation in him. His furious, messy lapping at your clit was exactly what you needed. The sound you made was raw and torn, almost a shriek as you suddenly got the stimulation you’d been looking for, your body tightening in rapid waves beneath his mouth. He caught your clit between his lips, growled, and sucked hard enough to have you seeing stars. That was it for you, your back arching as you fisted your hands tightly in his hair and came across his tongue, a flood of wetness drenching his face. With every pulsing wave of pleasure, he let out a satisfied little rumble, sucking in time with the rhythm of your body, dragging your orgasm out until the world burned white. The moment those waves began to ebb, he switched to broad flat licks along the entire length of your cunt, moaning and mindlessly drinking up every last drop, his eyes falling half closed in apparent bliss. 

Which was nice. Until your body started to request a break. 

“Matt,” you choked out, trying to shift away. He instinctively followed, blearily keeping his mouth latched onto your cunt, the pressure on your clit almost painful now. “Matt, that’s—fuck—I need a break, sweetheart, please! Matt!”

The sharp call of his name seemed to snap him out of it, and he finally let you go with a groan. He didn’t get very far, though. All he did was tip his head sideways until it landed on your thigh with a soft thump.  

You let yourself breathe for a minute, twitching now and then when an aftershock rolled through you. When you were feeling a little more able to focus, you finally lifted your head to glance at him. “That,” you wheezed, still panting, “was… we need to do that again. But in… in a while.”

He blinked slowly at you, blissed out and lazy as a lion who’d just had a meal. He hadn’t moved from your thigh, his face still shining and absolutely drenched. Then he grinned. The expression was so absolutely, drunkenly smug that you couldn’t help but roll your eyes. “I take it you’re ok, then?” You snorted, reaching down to stroke your fingers down his wet cheek. 

He blinked at you again, and there was a brief delay before his head turned and he nudged affectionately at your hand. Sometimes when his senses got too overloaded after sex, he needed a few minutes without touch to come down. This time, however, it seemed like touch was what he wanted. 

“You wanna come up here and listen to my heartbeat until your senses are all back online?”

He seemed to think that over for a minute before he slowly started to drag himself up your body. He didn’t even bother to lift his head from you, simply dragging it along your skin as if he were loathe to lose the sensation of you against him. He only ran into a slight hiccup when he bumped into your breasts. He nosed around for a second, huffing briefly, before he found the space between them and continued on. “You’re drunk as hell,” you choked out a laugh, as he rubbed his ear fondly back and forth over your sternum, hunting for whatever spot sounded best. “You’re legitimately pussy drunk. God, I love you.” He finally selected his spot on your chest, his head dropping down to lay against it. The rest of him followed shortly thereafter as he settled down on top of you with a long groan of satisfaction. He rumbled out a contented sigh as you got your fingers in his hair, stroking through the sweat-soaked strands. One of his hands fumbled its way down to your hip. He kneaded clumsily at it, your affections very much returned. “Mhm. Love you, too.” 

“Little more coherent?” “Mm. You taste good.” “So do you. Don’t make me wait so long to get my mouth on you again.”

“Mhm,” he sighed. He absently licked his lips, before purring quietly, his eyes falling shut. “I promise. We’ll share.”

[strawdool]

ME WHEN I MIX MY TWO FAVORITE PIECES OF MEDIAA

(this is a recreation of this scene from Infinity train book 3!)

Also bonus because if u know you know. :)

[ro-bee]

i'm obsessed with @redcrowncafe fic... is so good i had to make some fanart

left a meme below for you guys

demons in my head told me to make this real :)

[jiveyuncle]

This prompt made me think of @autisticlancemcclain ’s Flower Crown AU, so I bring you all another fic rec. It’s a friends with benefits fic that makes my heart ache. Keith’s determined not to fall in love because he tells himself: “You have ruined every single person you have ever loved.”

You can read the fic here:

[hayaku14]

i just think if kaito sees this shinichi he's gonna lose his goddamn mind like i think he's actually gonna end up stealing for real just to sate this deep-seated desire he never even knew he had of wanting to decorate shinichi with jewelries and gems and ooooohhhhh like i know he's gonna find the ones that compliment shinichi's blue eyes the most, i fear for all the sapphire owners in japan y'all better hold on to them cause kaitou kid might just not return them for real lmaooo

[verperina]

On The Throne

Pairing: Dorian Havilliard x f!reader 

Summary: Dorian fulfills your fantasy of being fucked on his throne.

Warnings: 18+ smut

Word Count: 2,943

Author’s Note: I’m not 100% satisfied with this, but I’m still proud of myself for finishing it. I stayed up until 4:00 in the morning to finish writing and editing, and then put it in my drafts. And please ignore how boring/dumb the title is. I couldn’t come up with anything else.

“Everyone out.” Dorian’s voice rang throughout the room, echoing off the marble floors. The guards quickly left, including Chaol who sent a glance toward his friend and then to you before shutting the doors behind him. The room was completely empty now. It was just you and Dorian, who still had his eyes on you.  

Chaol had fetched you from the library, informing you that Dorian had requested your presence in the throne room, but did not say why. When you asked if something had happened, Chaol had quickly reassured you that the king was fine and had simply wanted to see you. 

The way Dorian was currently looking at you—a predatory look in his eyes—made your heart skip a beat, and you took a moment to study his clothing. He always dressed immaculately, but today he showed to be the perfect portrait of royalty. His black hair neatly combed with a gold crown placed perfectly upon his head, a fitted black jacket embellished with red and gold, a silk tunic, black trousers and black knee-high boots. The wedding ring adorning his finger—a silver band with a sapphire jewel that matched your own—gleamed in the sunlight.

Your body started to feel warm, your dress too constricting.

The corner of his lip tugged upwards and he reached out a hand, gesturing for you to step up the dais. “Come here.”

You remained still. His eyebrows faintly rose at your defiance and you could see a sliver of amusement in his eyes.

“Ask nicely,” you said, a small grin starting to form on your lips, “and then maybe I will, husband.”

He chuckled, the noise coming out breathy. “Please, come here my dear wife.”

After a moment of mock contemplation, you obliged, slowly walking up the steps so you wouldn’t trip over the fabric of your dress. 

Once you were within his reach, you grabbed his hand and laced your fingers together, looking at his wedding ring before speaking. “When Chaol came to get me I was worried at first—I thought maybe something had happened.” Dorian’s gaze softened. “He was quick to reassure me that you were more than fine, although he didn’t share why you wanted to see me.”

Dorian started to smile. “I didn’t tell Chaol why I wanted to see you.”

“And why is that?” you asked, head tilting to the side.

“Because I didn’t want him to know that I would very much like to fuck you on my throne.” You choked out a laugh and felt your face begin to warm. His smile widened at the sound, sapphire eyes bright. A few weeks ago, laying in your shared bed after hours of passionate love making, you had confessed to Dorian about your fantasy of having sex on his throne—with no one else in the room, of course—and he had only laughed and playfully teased you before fucking you once more. You thought he had forgotten all about it. Apparently not. He added, “But I’m sure he will figure it all out rather soon.” And then a sly grin came across his face. “If he doesn’t, then I’m sure the noises will be confirmation.”

“Your mother would be horrified if she found out,” you mused. It was no secret that Georgina Havilliard wasn’t overly fond of you. When envisioning a future wife for her eldest son she favored the idea of a princess or at least a woman of high nobility, not a commoner like you. But Dorian didn’t care about her opinion and had no problem voicing it. He loved you and that’s all that mattered.

Your husband only shrugged before lightly tugging your hand. You saw the mischievous gleam in his eyes and knew that he wanted to indulge you in your fantasy. You lowered yourself onto his lap, straddling his hips and his large hands immediately gripped your thighs. Bringing your hands to cup his jaw, your thumb lightly traced the sharpness of his cheekbone, and then brushed it against his bottom lip.

You let yourself take time in admiring his features. His beauty. Just Dorian himself. Your Dorian.

Removing your hands from his face, you lowered them to his shoulders, and then to the firm muscle of his abdomen through his clothing. His stomach tightened at your touch and with one last glance at his face, your lips found his in a soft kiss, one so at odds with the burning desire that snapped through the air. Your entire body was tingling from excitement and the feeling of his warmth seeping into you.

Dorian’s tongue meets yours tentatively, waiting for you to lead the kiss, letting you decide how you wanted it. You let yourself take control. You alternate between gently nipping his lips and stroking your tongue against his while running your fingers through his thick hair. 

Your heart was racing and your face warm. Dorian pulled away to rest his forehead against yours. His lips were swollen from your kisses and his tanned face was a light shade of pink. “Tell me what you want,” he breathed, sapphire eyes glazed over with lust.

You swallowed, trying to catch your breath. “You.”

“Want me to make you feel good?” he murmured.

“Yes.” You nodded eagerly, and not bothering to wait for him to take control, your hands grip the collar of his tunic as you drag Dorian in for a kiss that’s desperate and a little sloppy. His tongue in your mouth once again, and his hands move to cup your ass, kneading the flesh. A pleased sigh leaves you.

He deepens the kiss. It’s demanding and ravenous. You let yourself melt into him, let yourself just be here in the now with him. Unashamed and happy. You teasingly roll your hips against his hardness, causing a wave of pleasure to shoot through you, and a low, rough groan escapes him. You repeat the motion again, feeling arousal pool between your thighs.

His lips began to plant kisses along your jawline, and then leaves a trail of kisses down the column of your throat. Sucking the skin before harshly biting, a gasp leaves you at the slight stinging sensation. “I want to see my marks on you.” And you wanted to see his marks on you too. You wanted everyone to know that no one could touch you like Dorian could. That no one would ever be able to please you like Dorian did.

His hands started to untie the front laces of your dress, your bare breasts now exposed, and your nipples hardening from both your arousal, and the cool air. His lips leave love bites on your neck and collarbones, and then your breasts. You looked at him to see that his eyes were already on you, pure hunger shining in them.

And when Dorian brought your nipple to his warm mouth, you couldn’t stop the strangled moan that left you. Your back arched as your hands came to rest on his broad shoulders. He continued his torturous teasing; the rough sucking, the gentle biting. Your head tipped back as his fingers tugged at your other nipple. “Dorian,” you mumbled. Your cunt was wet, the lace fabric starting to become uncomfortable.

He wasn’t using his phantom hands. He wanted you all to himself. 

He lips wrapped around your other nipple, continuing the same ministrations but even more harsher this time. Your thighs tightened around him. He shuddered when your body moved against his, a debauched sound escaping his throat—a sound you wanted to hear more of. 

You continued to slowly grind yourself on him, desperate for some kind of relief. A pathetic whimper was voiced when your sensitive clit rubbed against the fabric of his pants. 

“I need more.” The words came out as a plea. It wasn’t enough. Your body craved more. 

Dorian released his mouth from you, looking into your eyes and said, “Tell me what you need and I will give it to you.”

“You inside of me.”

Your fingers trembled as you quickly undid the button to his pants and then his zipper. He pushed the skirts of your dress further up until your panties were completely visible, and without hesitation he pushed the material to the side and slid a finger through your folds, a breath leaving him at the feeling of your wet cunt.

You brought Dorian in for another kiss, one that left you breathless, and then pulled back to look at him. His hair was messy from your fingers running through it, pretty flushed cheeks, and swollen lips. He still had the pale band around his neck from where the collar had been, but it did nothing to diminish his beauty.

“You’re beautiful,” you breathed. 

Dorian laughed, his eyes glimmering with mirth, and your heart skipped a beat at how joyous it sounded. “I prefer devastatingly handsome.” He paused to kiss you once more. “But thank you.”

You smiled and opened your mouth to respond, but a moan came out when he slid a finger inside of you, purposefully slow. You looked down to see his finger sliding in and out, gathering more of your slick. “You like seeing me touch you?”

You nodded, slightly rocking your hips and bringing your hand down to rub your clit at a steady pace. A silent hiss left your lips at the contact, and pressure started to form low in your belly, a bundle of nerves starting to become more intense. His other hand kneaded your breast, adding more stimulation, making your orgasm grow nearer, even more so as a second finger entered you.

Your cunt started clenching rhythmically, eager to find that release you desperately wanted. You started rubbing your clit faster, feeling a sheen layer of sweat on your body and hairline despite the room being a little cold. You could only imagine how messy your appearance was right now, but you couldn’t bring yourself to particularly care.

Breathy gasps left you as you climaxed, your body shuddering from the intensity as Dorian helped you ride through your high. The feeling leaves you in ecstasy, slightly buzzed. Only when you stopped pleasuring yourself did he gently remove his fingers. 

He brought them to his mouth, sapphire eyes glazed over with burning desire, and tasted your arousal. A pleased sound left him. He tucks a stray piece of hair behind your ear as he pulls you in for a fiery kiss, your tongues stroking against one another. 

You push down his undershorts, his cock springing free, hard and the tip leaking with arousal. You swallowed. You wanted Dorian to fuck your throat until tears streamed down your face, but that would happen next time when you two had more time, it could wait. Instead, you grabbed his cock and stroked him, and Dorian tipped his head back.

Your thumb collected the moisture at his tip, rubbing it along his slit and he groaned. You could tell that he was restraining himself from bucking his hips. After giving a soft squeeze, you very slowly start stroking him. His brows slightly furrow and his hands tighten their hold on your backside. You give a harsh tug, and then another before picking up your pace a little more.

The restraint that Dorian was holding onto broke free as he removed your hand from his length and tightened a fist over it, giving a few leisure strokes of his own, and then angles himself up with the entrance of your cunt. And when you finally lowered yourself onto his cock, you couldn’t stop the shudder that ran throughout your entire body. The feeling of him being inside you felt so warm and full.

You both paused for a moment to just breathe each other in, and then you began a slow pace, placing a hand around his throat and the other on his chest to balance yourself. The stretch of his cock is a delicious torture; you could never grow tired of this. A shaky breath escapes your lips as you ride him. His hands come to rest on your hips to help steady you.

You could feel a thin layer of perspiration cling uncomfortably to your back, but you ignored it as you lightly squeezed Dorian’s throat and closed your eyes, feeling nothing but pure bliss. 

Very slowly you start to move a little faster, his heavy breathing encouraging you. Each time your hips moved upward you squeeze around his cock, making his eyebrows lightly crease from pleasure and his hands tighten their hold on you. You bring your mouth to his, and heavy, forceful kisses leave your lungs burning for air. Your hands and his own are all over each other, frantic, as if you two can’t get enough of one another. 

“How did I get so lucky?” he asked. “How did I get so lucky as to have you?”

Before you could open your mouth to respond, Dorian’s hand came down to harshly smack your ass and you gasp in surprise. He does it again, but harder this time and it causes you to clench around his cock, and in response he lets out a quiet groan. He lets his nails lightly scratch the side of your ass before slapping you again. You wouldn’t be surprised to find handprints later on.

He stopped your movements by firmly grabbing your hips, and before you could question what he was doing, he slammed you down onto his length—hard. You both let out choked moans and your eyes nearly rolled to the back of your head. He repeated the same motion thrice more before snapping his hips upward. The sound of skin-on-skin echoing throughout the room.

“You can take it,” Dorian panted. 

His hands are still holding your hips in place to keep you in his control. Your back arches in pleasure, a small whimper leaving your lips, and a deep pressure starts building in your belly, tingles rippling through your entire body. You plead for your husband to go faster, desperately wanting to find release. Your mouth hangs open as your forehead falls against his, and a bead of sweat trails down your temple from your hairline. You ignore the uncomfortable feeling of sweat clinging to your body.

Your hands cup your breasts, kneading the flesh before rolling your nipples in between your thumbs and forefingers to add more stimulation. You groan at the sensation. Dorian watches keenly, his throat bobbing. 

Your cunt is throbbing painfully and your walls are pulsing as your body tightens around him. He releases his hold on you so you can move against him, and you bring your hands to rest on his shoulders to ride him faster.

“Take what you want,” he encourages. “Ride my cock like a good girl.”

You whine at the praise, clenching around his cock. He moans at the feeling of your tight, wet walls around him. The sound sent a rush of pleasure to your core. He kisses you harshly before speaking again. “You’re doing so good for me. Always so good for me.”

The knot in your stomach twists. “I’m going to come,” you gasp out. Your movements become chaotic and uncontrolled. You start rhythmically pulsing around his cock and he snaps his hips in a frenzy to help bring your climax closer. 

“That’s it,” he rasped. “Come for me.”

With a loud moan, your orgasm rolls through you in an intense convulsion, your vision blurring. Your toes curl so hard in your slippers they begin to cramp as pure ecstasy floods your body. Your limbs tremble and spasm as you hold onto Dorian tightly, burning your face into the crook of his neck. 

He curses, nipping the lobe of your ear as his warm hands grip your thighs. His hips buck frantically, chasing his own release, and when you clench around him again he groans loudly, spilling into you. His breathing is ragged against your neck as his thrusts slow down before coming to a stop. 

The two of you trembled in each other’s arms as you came down from the high. You sigh, closing your eyes, letting yourself rest your head on his chest and listen to the erratic beating of his heart. Dorian lazily ran his hand up and down your back. His touch is soothing and gentle, like always.

The air in the room was stifling, too hot, despite it being chilly when you had first arrived. You swallow, trying to catch your breath and calm your racing heart. You could feel your dress stick uncomfortably to your skin from sweating, and stray pieces of your hair were stuck to your forehead. You were too dazed from your orgasm to care about your appearance.

“Do you think Chaol knows?” you ask softly. Both of you had been in here for more than ten minutes and neither of you had exactly been quiet, and Chaol wasn’t dumb; he saw the way you and Dorian were looking at each other before leaving the room.

“Given how loud you and I were, then yes, I would assume so,” Dorian says. “But if he isn’t aware, then I have no problem fucking you again.”

You laugh loudly at that and he joins you, the sound making your heart skip a beat. You had no problem with being fucked on his throne again, if anything it made you want to do it again. 

“I would like that,” you respond, stifling a yawn.

“I thought as much.” You couldn’t see his face, but you knew that Dorian was smiling, and you felt a smile bloom on your lips too, feeling happy and content with being in the arms of your husband.

[a-cloud-for-dreams]

if this isn't what love is like i don't want it

like come ON

THE SHADE SKSKSKS this has to be so funny for her seeing the same story unfold once again 😭😭 "you're an idiot in love just like your parents"

i'm going insane, actually

i genuinely can't with this story whyyyyyyy lemme kiss the pretty man

[rubyfunkey]

really needed to draw something for this fic by @bamsara bc it single-handedly threw back into a cotl kick and i cant stop thinking about it

[madl-y]

✧. ┊— you're the one that I like (I can't deny)

3 times Orter Mádl denied his affection for someone, and the one time he was too tired to defend himself.

sypnosis – the other divive visionaries are sick of seeing orter lovesick (despite being amused themselves) so they try to push him to confess. (they, mainly being kaldo and ryoh. lance was there unwillingly)

> no tw! fluff! hopefully not ooc..? beware of grammar and spelling mistakes (sorry..)

> set in post innocent zero! so mild manga spoilers :"DD

> its also been a while since i've started writing fics again! this was kind of an impulse decision ahahaha...!

> i also didn't expect this to be long! sorry :"D

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

1 - 3 : EASTON ACADEMY

Orter Mádl never thought he'd see you again.

This is the third time in a row that he, alongside with another person, finished the assigned mission in each class that gives silver coins. Orter glances at the side, where another student slowly walks to the front as the teacher sang praises about them. Of course never forgetting the 'lectures' on how everyone should take inspiration from the two of them. (Frankly, it was getting quite sickening to hear.)

He kept his gaze at the front, while his awareness and attention is still directed at you. You, who always managed to keep up with him in tasks and classes. You, who despite having a weak personal magic, had always excelled at other spells. It was to the point where higher level year spells and advance magic was so easy for you.

You, who Orter thought that the first piece of the silver coin you got was a fluke.

Evidently enough, it wasn't.

Finally, after a lot of unnecessary speeches and praises, Orter and you are able to go back with the rest of the class. It seems most students were willing to run away the moment the teacher announced class was over.

Orter pushed his glasses and sighed. He finally felt the weight of his pocket from the gold coins he acquired recently.

Just from looking at you, Orter knew you felt the weight too.

Its nothing new. Clearly, Easton has a lot of students that were born talented. Easton in itself is a privilege. The best and the talented are here. Orter knew he'll have to face a lot of strong magic users just to carve his path towards becoming a Divine Visionary.

He must become one. Someone needs to maintain order. He needs to punish all those who dare and try go against society. He needs to fulfill his wish—

"Orter, aren't you going?" He blinked. Surprisingly, (or not really) Orter found himself still rooted on the grass. His previous place just a few steps behind him.

Ah, right. Someone called out to him.

That someone gazed up to him. Orter got used to people having to slightly tilt their head up from how tall he is. Though, he never noticed that your height reached his shoulders.

"Orter?" You called out again.

Orter shook his head, trying to keep his mind from wandering elsewhere.

Somehow, this always happens. Its always whenever the two of your interact with each other. Orter gets distracted and gods knows why!

"Sorry, I was just thinking."

It somewhat became a routine from how it always happens when Orter and you interact.

Its always you who's initiating. A simple greeting in the hallway. A simple show of respect to Orter's achievements. A simple saying of "congratulations" whenever Orter finishes first in class quizzes.

And it always follows up with an act of concern to when Orter spaces out.

Because somehow, he always ends up thinking of you. How did you keep up? What did you do? What magic spells were you able to wield so easily, yet you're own personal magic was so weak? Why were you talking to him? Did you want to become a Divine Visionary? Should he expect you as a future enemy? Why do your eyes always look like they're shining under the bright warm sun? Why—

"If you excuse me, I need to go." Orter bowed before walking away. He hasten his pace at the mere sound of your voice that stopped midway to ask something of him.

Why is it that its always you he exerts his effort to think about?

Its irrational. Its... nonsense.

Yet somehow, he couldn't help but think how prettier you are up close.

And its ridiculous to think about.

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

2 - 3 : BUREAU OF MAGIC

When Orter thought that you might be working alongside with him, he didn't mean with you as just an assistant.

"You really saved me time, thanks!"

"These notes are so well organized... I should learn from you."

"I'm starting to see why the Divine Visionaries respect you alot."

"Heh..? Not bad from an assistant."

"Be nice, Renatus."

"Shut up, you stuck up hag." Sophina Biblia glared at the foul word.

"You–!"

"Would you like some honey sashimi with me?"

"With all due respect, Kaldo." You blankly stared at the Flame Cane and his abomination of a... food choice. "You're tastes in food and honey combinations are the worst thing ever." Kaldo felt an arrow struck through him. The palm of your hand raised up in front of him indicated that you were rejecting his food taste (like everyone else) and flopped to the floor in pain.

The other two visionaries sighed.

"Orter, here is your schedule for today and tomorrow. One of the chiefs in the Police force would like to schedule a meeting with you. Nerey's still clarifying who's attending though." You handed a folder to Orter while ignoring the bickering behind the two of you.

Orter nodded. "I'll take note of that. Although," He took a quick glance at the cup of coffee on your other hand. "I thought you don't drink coffee anymore?"

"Oh, this is for you."

Orter blinked, before pushing up his glasses. "I don't recall ordering one."

"What? Don't tell me you suddenly dislike coffee?" You leaned in with a teasing grin. Any outsider would think that the Sand Cane looks unamused, but working with Orter for a long time means you've known every expression of his, no matter how stoic.

"I didn't say I dislike coffee." Orter sighed.

"Yeah? Then, here you go." You lightly shoved the cup of coffee towards Orter. It looks so casual, as if its something you've done for a long time.

And it is something you've done for a long time.

Orter accepts the coffee. Gingerly taking care of the cup in his hands. His fingers subtly touch against yours.

Its always the same, and yet Orter still feels that small budding affection in him. (Not that he would show it, of course.)

A coworker calls your name. You immediately follow him down the hallway while giving a quick smile to Orter. He nods briefly as he watches your back retreating further.

Actually, Orter already drank a cup of coffee a while ago. He usually doesn't order a second one. He dislikes the feeling him palpitating in the middle of work. It only happened twice, but he refuses to feel it again.

Still, every cup you give him unknowingly, he takes it.

He licks his lips as the warm liquid travels down his throat. Its sweet.

Its sweeter than he's used to. He prefers it with less sugar, and absolutely refuses to let Kaldo brew his cup of coffee.

He takes one more sip.

Orter doesn't mind as he walks back to his office with the cup of coffee and folder in hand.

The next day, you find a freshly brewed cup of tea on your desk.

You tilt your head questioningly. This is a first that's happened ever.

You look around to see if there were someone nearby. Most of them were walking past and chatting with one another.

It tasted good at least. (After confirming that it wasn't poisoned. You wouldn't know what to feel if there was someone who wants you dead.)

Weeks pass by, and there's been at least two times that it has happened. It happens at random times so you weren't sure what the pattern was.

But clearly, the Divine Visionaries know something. Every time you ask, however, they just smile or sigh while giving you a cryptic answer.

Orter just shrugs and walks away.

"Hey-! I wasn't done talking to you!"

"Well, I am." Is what he always replies.

Soon after, Ryoh slings his arms around Orter and gives him a grin. "So... you like her?"

Orter pauses in his steps, before blankly staring at the smug Light Cane. "Her?"

Kaldo emerged from the sides. "Oh? Never thought you were the type to play dumb." His smile grows at the bristled look Orter directed at him.

"I'm not playing dumb."

"Sure."

"Its just that, she's the one you only prepare tea just right before she arrives at work. You don't do that to anyone else." Orter stares at Ryoh, who just smiles knowingly. Nothing escapes the Light Cane afterall.

"My, my, who thought that I have a rival in finding ways to charm a girl? Me, the greatest creation–" Orter shrugs off the narcissist before he can start his self narration.

Kaldo walks beside Orter, "So, you truly like her?"

Orter sighed, pushing his glasses in habit. "I don't."

Kaldo hummed in thought, "I'm not convinced." The Flame Cane frowned. "You two seem to get along well. No plans of confessing?" He tries to push further for answers, which makes Orter irritated.

"If you're not convinced, that's not my problem." Gold eyes glared sharply. "Again, I don't like her. I'm just giving back favors. I don't know about you, but I don't think gossiping is how a visionary should spend their day."

With that, Orter walks away ignoring the stares from the two.

It's natural to repay favors. You don't need to know Orter was the one brewing the tea on your desk after every coffee you give him.

Kaldo and Ryoh stared before smiling at each other.

"He likes her." Ryoh grinned.

Kaldo nodded in agreement.

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

3 - 3 : EASTON ACADEMY

The bell rang indicating that class is finally over. Which also means that you have successfully made it through the whole day while teaching.... enthusiastic students. (The amount of headaches you've received from teaching students the most basic spells. Offense spells, especially.)

You greeted one last goodbye to the class before heading out towards the faculty.

While your main job is a secretary position in the Bureau, you were also recruited to teach at Easton for once a week. Mostly classes that are supplementary for those with borderline failing grades.

"Ah, who is more suitable than the student who excels in different spells regardless of difficulty? Am I right?" Walhberg's voice resonated in your mind.

It's been a year since you've started teaching. Right after the whole Innocent Zero world abomination happened. Can't say that you're surprised that Finn is one of your students, but he's currently doing better than you expected.

"I have to thank you for being patient with me, Sensei!" You recall Finn beaming with joy as he finally got one of the hardest offense spells to master. Safe to stay you were delighted that you had an impact to students.

Right after this class, you usually head straight towards the Bureau to take over the night shift-

A tap in your shoulder made you halt in the middle of the hallway, "Done with class?"

You come face to face with... huh.

"I didn't know you had a meeting here in Easton?" You should know, because you were in charge of handling the Visionaries' schedules. So you should know that Orter has no business here in Easton.

He shrugs, "I don't."

"Well, yeah, you don't. I should know that— I'm your goddamn secretary— but I'm assuming its an emergency?" You tilt your head in confusion. Gold eyes meet yours, his stare seemingly calculating and... hesitant?

"No." Orter replies.

Silence assumes between the two of you. You raised a questioning brow at Orter who just stares blankly at you.

"Then..? Care to elaborate oh divine one?" You add a hint of sarcasm which Orter slightly bristled at. He sends a sharper glance at you while you smile innocently.

Its not as if the two of you haven't acted that way before. Working together somehow brought the two of you closer and your relationship is somewhat casual.

Other words, you can be as annoying as you want and Orter won't shove sand down your throat.

"I don't know, you're the secretary." He raised a challenging brow back. You scoff in lighthearted annoyance while Orter seemed unfazed. That is, if it weren't for the ghost of a smile you managed to capture.

If you can be annoying as you want without consequence, then Orter will do the same.

"Okay but really, why are you here?" You question seriously while inviting Orter to walk beside you towards the faculty. He follows while keeping his gaze ahead.

"Hmm... You're headed towards the Bureau after this?"

"Oh? How did you know?" You ask with slight surprise. Nobody ever bothered to know your schedule, except for the ones that are quite obvious.

Orter sighed and sent you a dry look. "We've worked together for a long time."

A laugh escapes your throat, "Yeah, well, I've only started teaching a year ago. Until now, some forget I have to teach weekly then head towards the Bureau. I swear, its laughable at the same time such a headache. They keep on scheduling things when they shouldn't be." You sighed roughly, wondering if you should start scolding your coworkers more.

"They're idiots." Another laugh escapes your throat at Orter's words. "I'm guessing they're the same ones that accidentally added in my schedule that I'm supposed to be here at Easton." You see the way Orter's usual calm expression turns slightly irritated. Not evident that anyone from outside could see, but enough for someone like you who've known Orter since studying at Easton.

"Oh I see, that's how it is." You stifle another laugh, not wanting to irritate Orter further, but can't help the urge to tease him.

"You say its a headache when they do this, yet you're laughing? How annoying." Orter let out a huff while you grin.

"Maybe its laughable when I see others suffer." You teasingly smirk.

Orter rolled his eyes, yet he can't help but feel a minute affection at the casual interaction between you.

"You haven't answered my question, Orter."

Ah right. He hasn't.

Orter paused in his steps. Causing you two pause beside him too before facing him with a questioning smile.

Again, its the same. As if they're back studying at Easton where Orter always sees that smile of yours. Its always the same, so how come he always felt the same emotions where his stomach and chest swirl at the sight of it. At the sight of you.

He cleared his throat, "I did. I told you they sent me on accident. Messing up my schedule."

"That's true, but you could've gone back immediately." You turn your gaze towards the group of students on the field where they were practicing spells or playing around.

"You caused quite a commotion you know? It was hard to settle down my last class because apparently, a Divine Visionary is on Easton grounds." You cross your arms while a playful pout forms on your lips. "They were more focused on the fact that the Sand Cane was here. That was an hour ago, so care to explain?" You sigh in exhaustion. However, your pout was replaced by a smile the moment you see Orter's subtle shift in his eyes while he looked dejected at being caught. Again, only you could see those minute expressions behind his stoic attitude.

Orter pursed his lips, he didn't expect that his presence would be that of a commotion. To think he was confident in concealing his presence right before your class.

Huh, nothing really escapes you.

"That's.." Orter glanced away while pushing his glasses up. "Its not like it wouldn't hurt to—"

"Sensei."

"—visit you.."

Orter went silent before sending a glance to the person who had the guts to interrupt to people talking-!

His mouth opens in slight surprise at the look of one of the students he was mentoring.

Additionally, Lance looked equally as surprise to see Orter right behind you. He blinked, wondering if he interrupted something. He was pretty sure he heard another voice overlapping with his once he called for you.

"Sensei, Orter-san." Lance bows politely then turns back to you.

He sees in the corner of his eye how Orter pushed his glasses up (a tiny bit harsher) and looked away. Lance didn't have time to think about it as you call for his name.

"Yes, Lance?" You smile at the younger Divine Visionary.

"Ah, Finn wanted me to tell you that he can't go to the faculty after class to bring you his assignment. His other teacher told him to stay after class." Lance handed you a sheet of paper.

"He asked me to deliver it to you instead."

"Oh, thank you Lance! Its nice to see you taking care of Finn. Please tell him he did a great job and not to worry." You smile brightly as you felt another wave of pride for Finn. Sure he was called as the "weakest" in your supplementary class, but he's improving. A lot. Especially under your guidance.

One glance at Finn's paper, and you already knew he's going to have another high score soon enough.

"Also, Professor Claude told me to look for you. Apparently there's an emergency meeting with the faculty."

At the mention of Claude, you couldn't help but grimace. Lance didn't seem fazed at your expression, yet he also can't help sending a pitying glance at you.

Orter just raised his brow.

"And he couldn't tell me himself...?" You mumbled questioningly.

"He said he was busy." Lance replied dryly.

"Sure, he always says that." You muttered once again, not bothering to hide your disdain at your fellow professor.

You perked at the sound of someone clearing his throat. You turn to Orter apologetically. "Sorry, Orter. I forgot you were there."

While Orter didn't seem fazed on the outside, Lance could see the slight twitch on his forehead.

"I think Lance may have accidentally cut you off." You smiled sheepishly.

Lance thought so too.

"What was it you were going to say?"

Orter remained quiet for a moment before sighing. "Its nothing. I was about to head back to the Bureau."

While you nodded understandingly, Orter took the chance to sharply glare at Lance in displeasure. Maybe he should teach this kid a thing or two on how to not interrupt two adults when they're having a conversation.

Lance stared back unfazed.

"Well then, I have to go! Can you do me a favor and tell anyone who asks for me that I have an emergency meeting at the faculty?"

The Sand Cane let out a sigh, displeasure thinly veiled in his expression. Orter, however, nodded while his stoic look returns. "Sure."

"Thank you!" You bowed and smiled gratefully before quickly walking away. "See you around as well, Lance!"

The blue haired nodded as he and Orter stood still while watching your retreating back.

Once its just the two of them, it seems tension has risen again between them. Despite the fact Orter is training Lance, and frequently sees him around from the fact Lance is the newest Visionary.

Still, Orter can't help but stare at Lance who, of course is one of the known people to be stubborn as hell, stares back as well.

Orter is starting to think he should say something to rid of this awkward silence.

"Are you—"

"Did I—"

Both visionaries closed their mouths.

A sense of Déjà vu passes through them.

Orter tries once more.

"Did—"

"Is—"

....If he wasn't annoyed, he'd be very astonished right now.

Lance quickly spoke before Orter could, "Did I interrupt something?"

Orter just sighed heavily, "Sort of." His shoulders dropping as he recalls that very scenario just a moment ago.

"Sorry, I actually didn't see you there." Lance said politely as he could. Rubbing the back of his neck in slight awkwardness.

"Its fine. It wasn't important."

"It looked like it was though." The younger visionary rolled his shoulders as he looks away in thought. Orter raises his brow at the comment while Lance looked as if he remembered something.

"Ah, so she's the one Kaldo-san and Ryoh-san were saying that you liked?" With the way Lance said it with such a straight face, Orter had to process the words that was casually spoken.

"...What?" Orter's face crumbled in irritation.

Lance continued to look to the side in thought, oblivious to the way Orter was seething. "So that's why your schedule changed all of a sudden. I thought there's someone who was going to attack Easton so I was on guard the whole time."

Lance glanced back to Orter. "But Kaldo-san and Ryoh-san told me not to worry about it. It was quite a headache since a lot of our classmates heard news of you in the school grounds. Although, I never thought you were the type to agree to change your schedule for someone you like—" Lance felt a magical aura out of nowhere and began to get his guard up. Ever since Innocent Zero, its like an instinct at this point.

However, he paused as he noticed Orter who looked the same as usual. Straight-faced and stoic, yet Lance could see how tense he was.

"...I see." Orter said lowly.

He began to stare ahead in thought, before bringing out his wand and turn around without glancing at Lance. "Thank you for providing information. However, I would like to clarify everything was false."

One look at Orter, and you'd think he was just as calm and composed. Lance's glance at the hand gripping his wand tightly made him think otherwise.

The other knew to not say anything further, lest he drowns with sand flowing down his throat and out his ass.

"Everything?" But of course, Lance had a stubborn streak. Maybe Mash and Dot were rubbing off him too much.

Orter replied without looking back, "Everything."

"Even the part where they said you like her?" Lance pushed. Call it curiosity, or maybe the fact that someone like Orter indeed has feelings for someone, which makes it so intriguing for Lance to find out more and risk getting buried in sand.

Orter let out a deep exhale, which got Lance tense for a moment, before the Sand Cane started walking again.

"...Yes."

The Adler student watched as his mentor rounded around a corner. He was soon left alone in the hallways.

Lance couldn't help but feel like he caused a murder that's going to happen in the Bureau of Magic.

What's more intriguing, however, was that Lance immediately knew the real answer from the quick moment of silence before Orter replied.

Lance harumphed and went back to his dorms. "...The fact he had to lie even though it was already obvious."

That day, Ryoh and Kaldo struggled to give a lot of excuses to avoid Orter before they were caught.

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

FINAL : LIBRARY IN THE BUREAU OF MAGIC

Orter was getting sick of this.

Its been weeks since that awful interaction with Lance and you, yet Orter keeps finding himself victim of Ryoh and Kaldo's infuriating schemes.

What's worse, is that the other visionaries go on about their day. As if there's nothing going on.

Here, Orter is glaring at Ryoh who keeps on convincing him that Orter should get over it and just confess.

Orter would be drowning Ryoh in tons of sands if it weren't for Kaldo backing him up. "I'm getting sick of this." Orter snapped.

"Well, sucks to be you. We're getting sick of it too!" Ryoh grinned while Kaldo laughs as if Orter wasn't getting bombarded with ideas on how to flirt with someone you've like for a long time!

"It was amusing at first, seeing how you'd suddenly act so soft and caring towards her. Yet it began to look painful at how both of you were acting so oblivious." Kaldo sighed as if it was his personal problem, and the fact that Orter can't even hurt them in retaliation, because damn them and they're actually useful for protecting the citizens.

"I don't-!"

"Quit the act! You like her, she likes you back. Now confess!" Ryoh cuts him off while pushing Orter forward to god knows where.

He's actually going to kill these bastards, visionaries or not.

Of course Orter is true to his words, so he brings out his wand and glares at the two. Ryoh just smiled (even though there's a bead of sweat dripping down his forehead at the sight of Orter's wand so close to him) and Kaldo doesn't seem fazed and watches from the side.

"Oi Kaldo! A little help?"

The Flame Cane hummed playfully, "Why, you're the strongest aren't you?"

"But we're in this together!"

"If you two don't stop this, I swear.." Orter gritted his teeth. He has a meeting for goodness sake. He's busy. He's also getting tired of this bullshit of a—

"Oh? What are you three...?" You had to double take the sight in front of you. Ryoh, who's grin faltered at your voice, still has his arms wrapped around Orter's shoulder while leaning his whole body to push Orter forward. Kaldo, who's playful smile drop and is replaced with a look of surprise as he stands from the sides.

Orter on the other hand, blinks and remains still while his expression remains his usual.

That is, if it weren't for the fact that his wand was gripped tightly in his hand and pointed at Ryoh with tiny bits of sand circling around it.

You raise your brow questioningly. "I think sparring between Visionaries is better suited outside and not in the library, no?"

The three blink once before glancing up at the sign above, which shows that indeed, they're in the library.

Just like what Kaldo and Ryoh planned.

Before Orter could protest, he was roughly shoved inside the library. He managed to stop himself from colliding with you.

Curse Ryoh Grantz and his narcissistic attitude because in the end he's still a strong visionary, and Orter prays that all mirrors nearby shall break once he merely appear in front of it.

Kaldo isn't forgotten in Orter's prayers, as he wishes all stocks of honey shall obliterate.

"Well!" Ryoh claps his hands gleefully, unfazed at the menacing glare Orter is sending his way. "Orter's schedule is cleared for the day-"

"It's not-"

"It is?"

"-And he has something he wants to tell you!"

"I don't."

"You do?" You tilt your head at Orter, who inhales deeply. He can feel his patience thinning.

"I don't-"

"He does." Kaldo interjects, and Orter was one step away into murdering the two before the library doors shut.

"Also! Miss secretary, your schedule is also cleared for the day! So spend more time together in the library. I heard you like to read from Kaldo." You can hear the joy in Ryoh's voice despite it being muffled. Which makes you even more confused as you alternatively stare at Orter and back at the doors.

"There are new selections in the library! Especially that one series about the legends of magical creatures." It was Kaldo's voice this time.

"Really?" Orter looked at you in slight disbelief. From how efficient and quick you are to adapt, you sure are easily distracted at what's really happening.

So of course, Orter will use it as an opportunity to—

"Ah, but first listen to what Orter will say." You don't have to see Kaldo to know that he's smiling.

...Orter hopes Kaldo will enjoy having sand in his honey as soon as he dealt with what he's gotten himself too (unwillingly).

It was silent for a moment. This time its a truly awkward one as you and Orter stood still side by side while staring at the entrance of the library.

You blink before giving Orter an embarrassed smile, "So.. I'm guessing you were dragged here against your will?"

Orter sighed tiredly, "Yes."

"I see, but I am curious as to why they had to force you to come here. Apparently, you want to say something?" You questioned, curiosity and slight worry evident in your voice.

Did something happen? Were they hiding something? Or was it just something silly that the visionaries (Ryoh and Kaldo you're guessing) planned and somehow, Orter was on the receiving end.

You watched with slight worry as Orter continued to send daggers towards the entrance of the library. Taking a small step beside him as you examine his expression. Not knowing if he was deliberately choosing to ignore you or not.

"Orter?"

Orter's head jerk up slightly at your voice. Indeed he wasn't choosing to ignore you, but was lost in thought on how to punish his fellow visionaries (mainly the two who shall not be named).

He turned his head towards you, sensing the worry in your tone. An apology for the current situation at hand and reassurance are at the tip of his tongue, ready to reply and.. oh.

For someone with great intuition and reflexes, Orter who prides himself in having great situational awareness— its something he thinks visionaries should have— he wasn't aware you two were this close to each other.

Orter finds himself stunned. A thought he's oh so familiar with immediately floats in his brain every time he coincidentally gets a chance to be close with you.

Again, and again, and again, and again.

Its always the same.

His mind always thinks that you're prettier up close. Not that you weren't pretty if you were far away.

Orter watches your eyes slightly widen at the close proximity you two are in, despite the library being so big. Its as if a spell was cast between you two. Designated to stare at the windows of each other's soul, not wanting to look away.

You think Orter's eyes are pretty. Like sand sparkling with hints of powdered gold that's blending well.

Orter thinks your eyes are glowing. Not physically, but with emotions he himself cannot express. He always finds himself melting at your eyes.

Maybe that's what's getting him soft when he interacts with you. Maybe Ryoh is just mistaken and that anyone you interact with also unwillingly goes soft at the sight you.

Orter blinks once, as he regains his composure. He sighs before looking to the side at the moment before looking back at you.

"Uhm, well, you really don't have to say anything if... you're not ready." You let out a chuckle. "Even though I don't know anything about what you uhh, want to talk about.." A light flush blooming at the tip of your ears and across your cheeks. A rare sight even for the Orter Madl himself.

Orter looks at you closely one last time, as he felt that exact swirling emotion in his chest as he takes in your abashed expression.

He scoffs to himself, earning a confused look from you. Before sighing tiredly. He resigned to his fate that Ryoh and Kaldo put him in.

And maybe, Orter has finally come to terms that he's indeed a liar.

"...Do you have anything else that you need to accomplish in the library?" Orter walks ahead of you swiftly taking the books in your hands as he looked at them interestingly.

Your mouth gapes in both confusion and surprise. Orter turned back to you and raised a brow while holding the books. "Well? I'd rather do something productive even if two... nosy idiots decided to clear my schedule."

Orter had the satisfaction to hear your laugh. "Careful, I might get too used to hearing your composure break. Who knew the all powerful Sand Cane had a foul mouth."

The visionary tilts his head, "Hm? I wasn't the one who turned to a blushing mess at a mere eye contact." He quickly turned away but you managed to catch a small smirk on his lips.

The unexpected teasing made you scoff, this time another light blush spread your cheeks in embarrassment. "I—! That was...!"

Orter feigned ignorance as he levitated a few books to organize them to their correct spot. Still, a light smug expression grew as he watched you from his peripheral vision try to defend yourself.

He took a quick step to the side to avoid the incoming jab to his arm. You glared at him unamused before waving your wand and levitating more books, grinning in triumph as one of them managed to hit him in the head lightly.

Orter stumbled slightly as he grunted at the thud of a book against the back of his head. He glared unamusingly, "That's no way to treat a Visionary."

You shrug, "Yeah well, maybe you should be quicker on your feet."

"I am though."

"Didn't seem like it."

Its been a while since you've engaged in friendly banter with Orter. It reminded you when you two would take quick jabs at each other back in Easton.

Orter stared at you, thinking deeply whether or not if he should go along with what his mind thought of.

"Well? Did that book hit you too hard or what?"

You started to shift in place at Orter's gaze. Not knowing if you should be worried or not if you actually hurt him.

Always one to act without thinking, you lift your hand up towards his head. Hesitating slightly at the way Orter's expression slightly shifted in surprise, before resolving yourself lightly touch his brown locks while feeling around the back of his head where the book hit him.

"Did.. did that actually hurt?"

Orter who finally processed everything, let out an amused hum. He grasps your wrist gently before lowering it back to your side. His eyes, once again, examining your worried gaze.

He really can't believe it.

You thought you managed to hurt him?

Orter let out a light huff.

How cute.

"For someone who's duty is to organize schedules and meet with different kinds of people," Orter finds himself facing his body to you. He grabbed a book on a nearby shelf and raised it in the air, gently hitting your head with the spine of the book. "You still have that quick temper and sharp tongue of yours from way back." He says, and he can't help but let out a more softer tone as he meets your eyes.

Orter sighs (for what it seemed the hundredth time) and places the book back in its proper place. Satisfied at the offended reaction he managed to get from you.

"You-! I was worried and-!"

He watched as you go on and on rambling about how you were genuinely worried. About how he was an annoyance from back then until now.

He sighed, how troublesome.

Orter pushed his glasses up as he faced you. "Really, how irritating." He sighs, "Out of everyone, I had to fall for you."

You paused. Your pointer finger that was in the air that was near jabbing his chest faltered.

Once again, Orter had the satisfaction to see you caught off guard.

"What?" Your heartbeat felt like it was pounding out of your ribcage. If you could hear it, what are the chances Orter couldn't.

Both of you stared at each other, heartbeats beating as one. While silence filled the room, the minds of the two were filled with different thoughts and the sounds of their heartbeats.

Finally, Orter spoke.

"I said," he leaned in closer, bending slightly forwards so his face meets yours directly upfront.

You could see the hint of amusement and affection in his eyes.

"Do you have anything else that you need to accomplish in the library?" Orter questioned.

He smiled in satisfaction at the frozen state you are in before heading off to walk with books in hand.

If Orter had to endure weeks of stress because he was forced to confess, well, you can't blame him for wanting you to experience the same.

He did confess after all. So sue him if Orter wanted a bit of fun messing with you.

He dodges another book thrown at him, a ghost of a smile hidden from the back of his head. Yet, if only you weren't so distracted that you could see the red tints on his ears.

Don't worry though, Orter will do this seriously. He doesn't intend to mess with you for that long.

Not until Ryoh and Kaldo get what they deserve.

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

well... I didn't expect this to be THIS long.. why is this so long oml im so sorry aksdlajfklashglshdf hope you enjoyed though :"D this is not proofread

[justaz]

morgana and arthur have a sleepover when they’re teenagers and morgana brings out this summoning spell and arthur is all “magic?!?!?! :o thats wrong we cant do that” and morgana just says “pussy.” and then arthur is helping her set everything up. they light the candles and chant in the old tongue and then BOOM a figure appears but it’s not the mighty god emrys the text talked of, it’s just a boy a couple of years younger than arthur, scared and confused, who answers to the name merlin rather than emrys. while they’re arguing, merlin goes stiff and is like “do you hear that?” and then trails out of morgana’s chambers in a trance and obviously morgana and arthur follow him and they end up way beneath the castle where theres a fucking dragon???? now emrys, the once and future king, and the witch are chillin w a dragon and talking about destiny. none of them are happy about this btw

[pastafossa]

"A Bit Of Sunshine" (Matt Murdock x F!Reader, Fic)

And here we are on Day 2 of the Tuna-Tober prompt challenge! For Day Two, I chose the fluff prompt: Flower Crowns. You can see the rest of the prompts I've chosen here if you'd like to know what's coming this month from me. Also, if you'd like notifications when I post a new story, drabble, or chapter, you can follow my sideblog @pastaxandria and set it for notifications! And off we go!

Ship: Matt Murdock x F!Reader

Wordcount: 985

Warnings for this chapter, let's do this: none, just some sweetness

It was rare that he found time to simply relax.

And yet here he was with you. The air was pleasantly warm, a whisper against his skin from the cool breeze faintly tinged with salt from the sea, and the shade from the massive oak tree above kept the worst of the sun’s rays from reaching him. The familiar sounds of the park—squealing children, laughing couples, bees buzzing away beneath a chorus of birdsong and rustling leaves—had been a welcome respite from the blaring sirens and furious car horns, though he’d have been able to hear those, too, if he’d concentrated hard enough. But in a brief moment of peace, he’d allowed himself to reel his focus back in, his hypervigilance easing until he was just… here. 

Here, in this case, referred to the two of you together atop a blanket under a tree in the park, the chosen location of your Saturday date. You’d settled with your back against the tree, your legs stretched out easily in front of you. It hadn’t been long before the warmth and fresh air had drawn him into an unusual state of lethargic relaxation, and at your encouragement, he’d wound up sprawled out next to you, his head in your lap, his eyes closed and his hands folded on his chest. You’d seemed to recognize the moment for what it was, too. Your fingers had quickly found their way often to his hair, stroking fondly through the strands, nails against his scalp a sensation that occasionally made him purr or hum, rolling his head into your touch. He wasn’t sure how long it had been, but that didn’t seem to matter. Sometimes you both talked, and sometimes instead you lapsed into a pleasant quiet, the two of you simply enjoying the break from all the chaos and stress so common in your life together.  Though your hands had been absent from his hair for a little while now, instead working steadily away at some sort of mystery project above him. He wasn’t sure what it was. He’d have to extend his senses to find out, and for now, he was choosing to trust you while he let go of his usual control. 

Still, the repeated shift of you as you reached for something beside the blanket, the little snap as you pulled something from the grass over and over, adding it to whatever you were working on, finally stirred his curiosity.

“What are you doing?” he murmured, fighting back a yawn as he adjusted his head on your lap, tipping it towards yours. It wasn’t like he could see you, but he liked to make sure you knew he was listening.

“Making you something.” You let out a hum, something soft and light falling from whatever you held in your hands to land on his cheek. He didn’t bother to move it. It was soft enough, whatever it was, and delicately scented—faint traces of cut grass and something vaguely sweet, tinged with musk and the scent of your skin where you’d touched it. Even without his focus firmly in hand, the sensory weight of it made his nose twitch as he took it in. Fortunately, the smell wasn’t unpleasant, especially when mingled with yours around him, with the scent of grass and earth, oak leaves and sea breeze and sugary vanilla from the ice cream cart a few hundred yards away. Somehow, he had a feeling the unique mixture would stay with him, a memory shortcut back to the feeling of this moment, so he spent a long moment breathing it in, letting it imprint itself on his mind. These brief moments of joy, of perfection were something he held onto as tightly as he could, a shield for his heart when his thoughts grew dark and the world seemed intent on stripping all the good from his life like meat from the bone. 

“There,” you said happily, the shape of your smile sunlight on his skin. “All done. Hold still.”

You shifted a little above him, lifting his slack head just a touch, and a moment later you settled something onto his head, a circular loop of sensation that lightly pressed down against his hair, tickling, velvet-soft whispers of textures against his forehead. The scent of cut grass and sweetness grew stronger with its presence, and he lazily blinked his eyes open, shifting his gaze towards where he knew your face lay.  

“Oh, you need to let me get a picture before you take that off. My flower king.” You sighed, before leaning down to kiss him lightly. You lifted your head again, tilting your head in the way he’d come to learn meant you were taking him in, trying to ensure you would remember this later, just as he had a moment ago with the scents around him. “Your eyes with the yellow dandelions and your hair is just beautiful. You look happy.” 

And the truth in your heart when you said it just… 

“Maybe I am happy.” He leaned into your hand when you ran it down his cheek, scanning lovingly around the sensory shape of you, all gentle whispers of fire and soft sensation. “And what about you, sweetheart?”

“I’m with you,” you said softly, lifting up one of his scarred, battered hands. You brought it up to your mouth, letting his fingers trace your smile before you turned it and kissed the woven bands of scar tissue on his knuckles. “So yeah. I’m happy. Now sit up for me for a minute. I want to get a picture of us, flower crown included.”

That picture found its way onto his desk a few days later. 

He couldn’t see it, of course. 

But the cut dandelions you often left beside the picture were quick to bring the memory back, as did every last determined bloom he found growing up stubbornly through the cracks of his city.

[hypewinter]

We've seen a lot of Danny is Damian's twin or older brother but I haven't seen many Danny is Damian's younger brother.

Dick Jason Tim Cass

I see this going two ways:

Danny gets whisked away from the league. Probably because Ra's was going to have Damian kill him as a test of loyalty but Talia or one of his nurses was having none of that. He ends up in Illinois, becomes a ghost, bla bla bla. They meet again when Sam drags Danny to a gala in Gotham with her and Damian is like "Danyal!?". Danny is utterly confused because he was too young to remember Damian or the league. Cue Damian going into overprotective 'I'm never letting you out of sight again' mode. The giw doesn't stand a chance once he finds out about them. The batfam is absolutely shocked because no one knew their youngest could be that protective of another person (Damian is 16 in this while Danny is still 14 btw). Him and Jazz are about to duke it out for custody or at least for the position as the most reliable sibling. Danny meanwhile is still processing that he has an assassin older brother. Neat.

Danny reincarnates. He retains his ghost powers somewhat which makes him special in the eyes of Ra's. This means he gets a separate training regimen. Damian sees his younger brother winning all of his grandfather's attention and promptly proceeds to pretend like he doesn't exist when he leaves for Wayne Manor. Out of jealousy and all that. Until one of the batbros is needling him about something or another and he lets it slip. The batfam is instantly like "we gotta rescue him" which Damian is not happy about. The entire rescue mission, he's complaining about how pointless this all is and how Danny is probably living like a king until they break into his room. Danny's room is bare except for a bed and when he sees Damian, he runs to him crying "you came back for me!". It turns out that Danny's training was much crueler to truly bring out the fullest force of his powers (no better trainer than survival and all that). Danny thinks his older brother came to save him and gets attached quickly. Damian refuses to admit how much the guilt is eating him up on the inside. (In this one Damian is 12 and Danny is 10)

[itssparrowbitch]

oh alice we're growing up...<3

[stormhearty]

✨ pairings: eris x reader

🔮 preview: (Y/N) Vanserra was cunning, ambitious, and confident, all wrapped in a beauty that could rival Lady Autumn’s. For forty-nine years, she had been hidden away, in Autumn Court, much like a diamond, waiting for the day she could come out and shine. And so, when the threat of a Death-God loomed over Prythian and Beron slowly became a concern, (Y/N) uses her beauty and intelligence for a ploy bigger than herself — one that included sitting her husband down on the Autumn throne, Eris Vanserra.

📣 trigger warnings: Inner Circle bashing (I love the IC guys, but we’re in Autumn Court territory now)

🔎 rating: PG-13 | 🔏 word count: 5.6k+

💜 masterlist | series masterlist + notes: I thank my lovely nonnie from here for suggesting a Roxana-inspired reader from the manwha, How to Protect the Heroine’s Older Brother! I loved Roxana as a character and I found it very difficult (as many of you know, whom I’ve talked to about this story) to write a character who is cunning and intelligent as my character reference. This series was a beast to write (and I am still writing the other parts of it, so please do be patient) — I wanted it to stay canon as much as possible, but also give a story that would reveal the mysterious nature of Autumn Court. Please do give feedback about the first part of this series! I would love to hear your opinions and thoughts for the next part!

And I thank both @prythianpages & @thesunloveschips for their amazing help with this first part (I apologize to them profusely at times for bothering them)

“Be my eyes, be my ears. Be the wallflower that lurks in the breeze. Be the viper that stings all my enemies. We shall become one, to conquer our shared destiny.”

The burn of the bargain tattoo seared onto your skin, a ring of fire that surrounded your left ring finger. It took you a moment to look at it, admiring the dark ink that stained your skin before much larger hands enveloped yours. Looking up, you stared at familiar amber hues as he slipped the golden band on that finger, hiding the tattoo. Lifting your hand to his lips, he pressed a kiss on your knuckles his smirk widening slightly.

“You will be my secret, (Y/N)… My weapon within the walls of Autumn Court…”

“Do you know who she is, Az?” his High Lord’s voice echoed in his head as hazel eyes focused on the female that seemed to have garnered many lingering gazes.

“I unfortunately do not, Rhys… My shadows do not whisper anything about her. I—-” there was hesitancy in his words, “I didn’t even know she existed.”

The Spymaster was stumped, to say the least.

In his centuries of being Night Court’s Spymaster, wielding shadows to his very will, Azriel had every confidence that he knew everything that happened in Prythian. Nothing was able to pass him nor his shadows — he knew all the intel, the gossip. He knew everything that might be deemed a threat to his court and used that knowledge to his advantage.

But it seemed like something slipped, because there was something… more like someone, that passed his shadows; and that was you who was on the arm of the Autumn Court Heir.

Azriel felt like he should have known you, should have heard the whisper of your existence at least. You were accompanying the Autumn Heir to Winter Solstice, for Mother’s sake! How could someone as vital as you slip passed his shadows.

He waited, waited for those slivers of darkness to whisper something… anything about you. Even just your name, the Spymaster would have been pleased to know.

But nothing.

His shadows lazily moved underneath him, not a care in the world about the female that seemed to have warped his mind in chaos.

You had become an enigma to the Spymaster.

And it was something he would go to the ends of the world to unravel.

He continued silently observing you from his position next to his High Lord on the dias, watching as you pressed yourself close to the Heir side, your hand tucked into the crook of his elbow, leading you through the throughs of people that packed themselves into the grand ballroom. He watched as your rouge dress, a stark contrast to the endless sea of black and blue, swayed around you — like a fire that danced in the darkness of the night. Even Eris stood out in his regality in a similar shade of rouge, Autumn Court colors seeping out from every inch of him.

The two of you maneuvered through the halls like flames blazing through the darkness — and Azriel was worried that you would burn his home down.

And when he watched you lean up to the Heir, whispering something into his ear before a boisterous laugh escaped the Autumn Heir, he sent his shadows across the floor, motioning them to listen in — and all the Spymaster hoped was to get a tidbit of anything relating to you; even just the sound of your voice would have been better than nothing.

However, hazel hues watched as his shadows retreated quickly as they had flocked. And it was only then did Azriel had seen it.

A barrier.

One that was so powerful and so thick that his shadows couldn’t even penetrate. He watched as the tendrils of darkness slithered away, retreating back to their master, hearing their cries of pain as they had attempted to break through the barrier.

That was the reason no one knew of your existence — why Azriel never heard of you, why his shadows never picked up your name.

You were a secret — Autumn Court’s well-kept secret.

The shimmer of the barrier caught the corner of your eye, watching it reflect different colors under the dim lighting. You raised a brow, eyes darting around before noticing the lonesome shadow retreating back to its master. You watched as that lonesome shadow slither through the crowd, slithering back to the Spymaster’s side.

“Did that bastard just —-”

You fought back a chuckle, gently squeezing Eris’ forearm — a silent confirmation about the attempted attack from the Night Court Spymaster. You felt him stiffen underneath your touch and you didn’t need to look to know that the Heir was pissed.

Beneath his mask of well-practiced composure, you felt his body thrum with rage and fire — it swirled and bubbled underneath his skin, radiating up to your palm that rested in the crook of his elbow.

Eris had always been quite overprotective over you, thus the millennial old barrier that had kept your existence a secret from all of Prythian — including from the nosy Spymaster of Night Court.

You were not surprised by the Shadowsinger’s actions — curiosity killed the cat, as many would say. And who wouldn’t be curious about you, the female that hung on the arm of the Autumn Court Heir? You had expected something similar to happen, but it seemed that the Spymaster sending his shadows to investigate you did not sit well with Eris.

No one dared to attack you while in his presence.

“Eris…”

The whisper of his name from your lips paused the rage that bubbled from the Heir — amber hues glancing your way. A delicate smile tugged onto your features, another melodic hum escaping your lips as you reached up and caressed his forearm — a gesture that showed you were perfectly unharmed — the barrier had done its job, keeping you safe. It was a gesture that always seemed to calm Eris down — especially when it came to your safety, a silent confirmation you were safe. You felt that bubble of rage and fire simmer, the Heir calming underneath your touch, and felt his hand slip on top of your own, his thumb gently caressing the gold band on your ring finger— a tall tell sign that he was holding himself back from confronting the Spymaster.

“Ah, Eris!”

Annoyance rolled off from the calm of Eris’ demeanor and you fought all urge to tease the male as you watched from the corner of your eye Keir making his way to the two of you, behind him his daughters in tow.

With a well-practiced smile, Eris gave a bow of his head towards the Steward, you mimicking his actions as surprise tugged on the Steward’s features, his steps paused to a halt at the sight of you at Eris’ side.

“Ah, Keir, pleasure to see you again. I thank you for inviting me to such festivities…” Eris greeted the male with a light smirk tugged onto his features — the normal look of arrogance from the Autumn Heir.

Keir had stiffened at the sound of his name, without any lordship from the Heir, as he bit back a reply with a strained smile, “Of course, Lord Eris. We are indeed partners… I had wanted to introduce you to my daughters—-” the male gestured to his side as his daughters gave a bow, their cheeks pink with a light rose color, evident even in the dim lighting.

You bit back a laugh, glancing up at Eris to watch that smile twitch at the corner of his lips — the annoyance very evident despite his mask of pleasantry.

“Unfortunately…” The Autumn Heir had cut off the Steward, giving the ladies a bow of his head. Eris, no matter what was taught to be a gentleman, especially to females. His mother taught him that. “I do not need a partner tonight for the dance… As you can see, I do have a lovely lady on my arm, and it would be such a shame to ignore her presence… don’t you think, Keir?”

A pleased smile tugged at the edge of your lips at the quip — not only did the Steward ignore greeting you, he had ignored the fact that you… without needing to be announced, would be the one accompanying the Heir for the evening’s festivities. And yet, there he was attempting to set up partnership with one of his daughters.

Keir’s eyes shifted from the Heir to you, his hues shaking as he looked at you.

“My apologizes… my lady, I was not informed that the Autumn Heir would be bringing a partner with him tonight—-”

“—-She has been with me the whole night, Keir… and she has not stepped away from my side. I would think, with your… keen eyesight, it would make it clear that I did not need a partner tonight.”

“—- Ah, yes… I apologize…” the stutter was evident in his tone as he quietly shooed away his daughters, watching longing gazes at the Eris before moving through the crowd. Keir straightened up and gave you a formal smile, before clearing his throat, “It is a pleasure to meet you, my lady —- before the festivities start…” What a quick change of subject, “My High Lord would like to speak to you…. if you do not mind following me…”

And with that the Steward turned around, his cape bellowing behind him as he maneuvered his way through the crowd… towards the dias where the Inner Circle had perched themselves for the night.

You watched as Eris rolled his eyes, an annoyed sigh escaping his lips, while you let out an airy laugh, bracing yourself on his arm as you leaned up, your breath against his chin, “Tired of being the most eligible bachelor, Autumn Heir?” you teased him.

It had always amused you on how many marriage proposals Eris had throughout the time you were together, and how many he had thrown those letters into the hearth of your shared bedroom at Autumn Court. You had always teased him about it, much to his own dismay after being with you for several millennials — you always found something to tease him about.

Eris raised a brow, turning his head so that your breaths intermingled, “I had not been a bachelor for centuries, my butterfly… It pains me to pretend that I am every time I step outside Autumn Court.”

You gazed up at him, staring in those amber hues through your lush lashes, “Well… tonight we’ll make that clear, once and for all, won’t we?”

A wide smirk tugged onto his lips, as he let out a satisfied sound before straightening up and guiding you through the crowd, steps behind the Steward to the dias. The two of you were a perfect picture of Lord and Lady, graceful and regal in every way.

Pull… pull… pull…

Eyes snapped towards the dias, your body going ridged for a few moments as you felt the familiar magnetic tug — the call of the blade. Eris paused in mid-step, feeling you go still, his head snapping towards you as eyes betrayed his indifferent expression — worry pooling at its depths. No words needed to be communicated between the two of you, you had known each other for centuries… you were honed into each other’s emotions, habits, gestures… you two could read each other so easily, despite the mask you have learned to put on for centuries.

Your eyes shifted from each member of the Inner Circle, trying to find where the magic pull was coming from, landing on the velvet box that was in the lithe hands of a familiar fae — the eldest Made Archeron sister, Nesta. You felt your magic flicker underneath your skin, answering the pull from that velvet box. You knew that the blade was in that box — the whole reason why you had decided to accompany Eris to the Winter Solstice, stepping out of Autumn Court into the wider world of Prythian, risking your identity, and exposing your person to the Night Court. That box, that blade was your sole reason.

Regaining your composure, you pressed yourself against Eris’ arm, placing your hand on top of his own as you silently motioned him to continue moving forward. The Autumn Heir hesitated, but when he glanced into your eyes and saw the resolution in them, he couldn’t argue. He gently squeezed your hand and started to move forward again before leaning down, pressing a kiss on the side of your head to whisper, “Did you find it? The blade?”

You glanced up at him and just gave him a light smirk, gently squeezing his hand. Another laugh escaped him, drawing attention towards the two before he pressed another kiss on your cheek, “You are magnificent, my butterfly…”

The Autumn wind blew a chilled breeze through the large windows of the Forest House. The sky was still in orange, red, and yellow hues as the moon started to peak over the horizon — the seasonal courts never saw true nightfall, the skies still glittering with their court colors. It had just grown dark enough for sleep to fall on its inhabitants.

Slipping onto the large balcony of your shared bedroom, you pressed your hands against the cool marble railing as you watched a monarch butterfly flutter down from the skies. Magic wrapped its fragile wings as you allowed it to gently perch on your left eye, a sigh escaping your lips as you closed your eyes — allowing its magic to seep into you. Visions passed behind your eyes, your all-seeing gaze shifting from Autumn Court, zipping through the seasonal courts and into the depths of one particular solar court — Night Court.

A rusty hammer struck metal, sparks of light flying into the air as the loud ring echoed in your ears. You watched delicate, yet calloused fingers grip the hilt of a forged blade — a power from those very hands seeping into the metal, one that mimicked the ancient Cauldron, which was lost. The blade breathed fire, one so similar to your own that you felt it pulse, no… push against steel — calling out to you, as if it knew you were waiting, watching from afar.

Shifting your gaze from the mysterious Made blade, your eyes wandered to those fingers, traveling up their arm to their features — the eldest Made Archeron sister. You had heard of the eldest sister of the High Lady of Night, once a human, doused in Cauldron power that made her into fae. Her powers were unknown to all, and yet — here she was, creating a weapon from her unknown powers.

“It looks like she isn’t quite as lovely as the winds have whispered…” you murmured, mirth in your tone as you continued to watch the vision unfold before your eyes.

“Who isn’t as lovely?”

Arms wrapped around your middle, large sturdy hands pressing you against a much sturdier front. Another sigh escaped your lips, eyes fluttering open, breaking the connection of magic as you watched the butterfly disappear in a waft of red and orange mist. Your hand raised, swirling the colors in the air before it dissipated. Twisting your neck, you glanced up at the Autumn Heir, his features illuminated by the colorful autumn sky.

You had always thought he looked ethereal.

His complexion glowed something dark that always stirred something inside of you. How his auburn hair beautifully framed his chiseled features and how his amber hues glowed — his innate fire burning through those irises.

Those amber eyes caught your own, his brow raising as his question was left in the air. A chuckle was pulled out of you at his look, “The eldest Made Archeron…”

Eris’ brows scrunched in confusion, as your comment did little to answer his question. He knew that there was much more hidden behind your simple words about the Made fae, much more than you were willing to tell him without him prodding you more. You lifted a hand to gently smooth Eris’ brows, a feeble attempt at a distraction — for both you and him.

“What did your butterflies show you, (Y/N)?”

Eris was able to read you so easily, no matter how many walls you had put up, the Autumn Heir was able to see right through them. He had learned how to read you for centuries, ever since the two of you were children — ever since that fateful day.

You felt him grasp your hand, tugging it away from his face, giving your palm a caress, causing a sigh to escape your lips.

“She forged a blade that breathed fire, one similar to our own… I do not know the purpose of said blade, but I am quite sure it has to do with that bloody bargain you made with that High Lord…”

It was no secret to Eris that you had despised that bargain between the High Lord of Night — a bargain to help him claim the Autumn throne from his father. You understood that it was under stressful circumstances — the looming doom of war with Hybern, needing allies during the war. However, you had known that Eris didn’t need that bargain, not with anyone within the Forest House walls, especially not with pesky Night Court bats — not when he had you to help with the coup within Autumn wards.

You needed no help from overgrown bats with what you had promised Eris all those millennials ago.

“(Y/N)…” he called your name, pulling you from your thoughts. Eris held your waist and turned you in his arms, pushing you against that marble railing, forcing you to look up at him.

Raising a brow, you tilted your head up at him.

“If they made a blade for us… then we’ll use it — take advantage of it,” he asserted, “Let’s play into their little game for now. Make them think they’re on higher ground, that they have control — but when in reality, we’ve always known. And you never know…” A smirk tugged on his lips as he leaned down, his breath brushing against the apples of your cheeks, “That blade might be useful for our plan…”

A light, airy chuckle escaped your lips, “You’re asking me, Eris… out of all things… to act dumb in front of those bats?” amusement laced in your tone.

He chuckled as well, pressing his lips against your cheek, “I’m asking you, my butterfly… is to act dumb with me. We do better everything together, right?”

You hummed, eyes fluttering close, your lashes brushing against his cheeks. Your arms slid up his more muscular ones, hidden beneath his sleeping tunic, wrapping your arms around his neck, pressing yourself against him, “Then that means, Autumn Heir… you will have to bring me to that Winter Solstice ball if you want me to act with you.”

Eris froze underneath your touch at the mention of Winter Solstice. He had mentioned it a few times to you in the past several weeks — especially when Keir kept sending secret correspondence, begging him to join the festivities. The correspondences had annoyed Eris completely, any chance the Heir had was to verbalize his annoyance to you about it — and you had been very amused to hear it each time. You were to let him go on his own to the Court of Nightmares — it was something you didn’t need to be a part of. You could remain in Autumn, continue to secretly monitor his father and brothers, gain followers, and be the wallflower that you have always acted as.

But, with this newfound information and the idea of the Night Court using the bargain against Eris, you knew you couldn’t just be passive with the invitation.

Opening your eyes, you looked up at Eris who had a conflicting look — you knew why he had been so hesitant.

You had never stepped outside of Autumn Court — no one knew of your existence outside of the Court. Despite being in Autumn Court for millennials, Prythian didn't know, the other Courts didn’t know of you. And yet, you were willing to sacrifice your identity, your role in his bigger plan to gain something as simple as a blade that a Cauldron Made Fae made.

Eris didn’t like the idea, it didn’t sit well in his thoughts.

Reaching up, you pressed your thumb between his brows, smoothing the skin there, “You will get wrinkles at this point, Eris…” you mumbled, eyes focusing on the skin there before catching his gaze, “I have done everything I can here, Eris…” your words were cryptic, you knew Eris would understand — you couldn’t risk it, not when the walls, trees, the winds in Autumn would listen and give away your plan.

“… I have asked you to use me, Eris. All those millennials ago, on that day… so use me. Make me the weapon I made myself into. I can't help you now if I'm in Autumn —-”

Sure, you had been the one to limit your influence solely on Autumn Court, but if Prythian called, then you are willing to step into the larger world.

Your eyes showed your determination, your willingness to devote your entirety to him as you've done for years.

A reluctant sigh escaped his lips as he forcibly pressed his lips on your forehead, “Alright. I will bring you… but you must remain by my side the whole night. No one will rip you away from me..”

An amused chuckle escaped your chest, leaning up to press your lips against his pulse, “So overprotective, Autumn Heir. It sounds like you're too fond of me…”

You felt Eris shake his head at your teasing, tugging you closer before maneuvering you back into your shared room for the night.

The bellow of Keir’s introduction pulled you out of your thoughts, watching the older male give a sweeping bow — overdramatic and with flair — his words of congratulations echoing throughout the large ballroom, the citizens echoing the same sentiments. As the elder male stepped aside, you stepped up along with the Autumn Heir, giving an elegant curtsy, while Eris gave a regal bow at his waist.

“And allow me to extend our congratulations, High Lady of Night, on behalf of my father and the entirety of Autumn Court…” Eris bellowed, his voice of regality, “A Fae child being conceived, what a miraculous announcement to give during Winter Solstice…”

You drowned out the conversation between Eris and the High Lord, barely focusing on the pageantry between them. It was rare for you to be so out of focus on the situation. Normally, you were in tune with your surroundings, focused on the now; however, all you and your magic could focus on was the call of the blade that thrummed inside that velvet box. You watched as lithe fingers grip the box tighter, and your eyes shifted to the eldest Archeron sister

“—- Before you go, Eris…” your delicate ears perked up, eyes shifting back to the High Lord who waved his hand allowing a dark wind to carry that velvet box through the air, handing it into Eris’ awaiting hand, “I offer you a gift, a solstice gift. A friendly token… between a High Lord to a future High Lord…”

Eris’ gripped the box tight in his large hand as you felt the muscles underneath regal clothes grow taunt.

A quip, from the High Lord. A disguised reminder of the bargain between the two of them.

Gently squeezing Eris’ forearm, you urged him to open the box, to ignore the jab from the older male. You felt those muscles relax underneath your squeeze, his mask of indifference returning onto his features as he opened the velvet box.

Inside that box, laid on plush pillows, was an ornate dagger — it was roughly the size of the Heir’s forearm, its handle weaved from iron as if it was cloth, an intricate design of wood and fire etched onto the metal.

One that was similar to the vision that you had seen weeks ago.

Eris picked up the blade by its serpentine handle, raising it, and watched the silver and jewels shine in the dim lighting. It was a beautiful blade — much more than you had seen in that vision. From the corner of your eye, the two of you locked gazes a light smirk tugging on his lips before the air around him flickers.

Eris’ magic throbbed in the air, as you watched flames appear around the blade — surprised screams echoed around you, as all eyes were on the pair of you — the center of attention. Eyes glanced at the Inner Circle, watching the guard dogs step in front of their masters to protect them, your keen gaze watching how the Captain pulled the eldest sister in his arms. A curious brow raised before you gazed back at Eris as he poured his power into that blade, disappearing into the silver in a flash of bright light.

A groan escaped the Autumn Heir, his head tilting back, a long breath escaping grinning lips. It took a moment’s breath before he regained his composure, rolling his shoulders back before his gaze returned to the blade, turning the blade in his hand as the metal changed, the color from a simple silver to a dark black — an obsidian color that swallowed up the light. A mixture of auburn and saffron tinted the onyx-colored blade, changing the way the light hit it — a blade mimicked a dark fire, swirling underneath the dim light.

Eris flipped the blade, holding it by the blade as he turned his body, facing you and staring at you with those brightly colored hues — flame and light within those irises — handling the blade to you, a nudge of his chin, gesturing you to take the blade.

A light chuckle escaped your lips, fighting the urge for your knees to buckle at the look on the Heir’s features — it was an alluring look on him, the power that raged in his eyes, in his veins — as your gaze shifted down the column of his throat and followed the patterns of his auburn suit to the blade in his hand. With lithe fingers, you grasped the hilt and you felt a shiver run up your spine — the mix of Eris’ power along with the power that already surged through the metal, Nesta’s power — no… the Cauldron’s power — was intoxicating. The call and pull of the magic that pulsed in the blade was strong and you felt your own magic answer the call, causing you to tilt your head slightly as you stared down at the blade, your magic pulsing underneath your skin.

What a dangerous weapon… You thought as you shifted slightly out of Eris’ hold to move the slit on your skirt, where an empty sheath was strapped onto your leg, sliding the blade into its new home — a perfect fit.

“I had been meaning to ask…” The High Lord’s voice reached your delicate ears as you glanced up, fingers trailing up your thigh before pressing yourself close to the Autumn Heir again.

“Who are you?”

Eris gently squeezed your waist, as you stepped out of his hold and you gave a sweeping curtsy, one as dramatic as Kier’s earlier.

“Late introductions, I apologize, High Lord of Night…” your tone had mirth and sarcasm tied underneath a layer of elegance and regality, “My name is (Y/N)… (Y/N) Vanserra.”

You glanced up at the High Lord through your lashes, watching his façade of arrogance and boredom shift into surprise — his face showing his thoughts:

Vanserra? Beron does not have any daughters.

Nor did he take up a second wife.

Vanserra? On the arm of the Autumn Heir…

Bright violet hues glanced between you and the Autumn Heir that stood behind you, before locking onto your gaze — your colored hues staring into violet hues. In defiance, you tilted your head up, as you straightened from your curtsy.

And that’s when you felt it — those tendrils of his powers creep near your mind, you couldn’t help but frown, your body stiffening, your hand gripping your gown tighter.

In your entire lifespan, you have never encountered a Daemati — especially one as strong as the High Lord; you had thought that the barrier would protect you from such intrusion of your mind, but it seemed, even that was futile against the power of a High Lord Daemanti.

Not breaking your eye connection with the High Lord, your eyes glowed an eerie ruby hue as you focused on that tether, that connection that he forged between your minds, to those coils of darkness that invaded your mind.

How. Dare. He.

And with a flick of your wrist, your mind grew walls of flame, surrounded by fire hounds who growled and attacked those shadows — successfully pushing him out of your mind. You heard a faint yell from the High Lord, and you saw his hands sear with flames, his hands combusting as he frantically tried to pat it down on his leathers. However, the feeling of lightheadedness started to cloud your mind, and you teetered on your heels before you felt Eris’ arms wrap around your waist, pressing your back against his chest. Eyes pinched close, panting, fighting off the heaviness you felt throughout your body.

It had been simple enough, you had thought, to push the High Lord’s power from your mind — but it seemed you had used too much power, in such a quick second that your delicate stature was giving up. Your mind grew hazy, spots of darkness appeared in your vision and you fought every urge to just pass out right there that you barely noticed the commotion that surrounded you.

Feeling Eris’ grip on you tighten as you heard him growl, “Did you just try to get into my wife’s head, Rhysand?! How fucking dare you!”

That had fully ticked off the Autumn Heir. Not only did the Spymaster attempt to attack you from afar, but now the High Lord tried to invade your mind. Two attempts at your life were too much for one night for Eris — and he threw his well-practiced self-control out the window.

Shrieks from the onlookers reached your ears as you peeked an eye open, noticing a bright light that illuminated the dark room. Heat radiated onto your skin, feeling Eris bring you closer to him, protecting you from the ring of fire that surrounded the both of you, separating the two of you from the Inner Circle. Blinking the haziness from your mind, you watched through the flames as the General and Shadowsinger stood in front of the High Lord and Lady, weapons drawn against the two of you.

“Eris…” you breathed out, grasping his Autumn colored suit, “Calm down…”

His head whipped towards you, that fiery gaze staring down at you, “But he tried to invade your mind, (Y/N)…”

A confirmed hum escaped your throat, straightening yourself in his hold, “I know… But I got him out. That’s all that mattered… And don’t blame the barrier,” you panted, blinking away the spots at the corner of your eyes, “His power is immune to it I guess…”

You stared up at him, your scarlet hues dimming back to your normal colored ones. Amber hues stared into them, assessing your condition, hesitation marred his features.

“Bring down the flames, Eris….” you softly commanded him.

His eyes flickered between you and the Inner Circle before he followed that command, the ring of fire flickering until it had gone out. You did not bother to appear composed — you could appear fragile — play into the heartstrings of the citizens of Hewn City.

The High Lord of Night Court attempted to invade the mind of Autumn Court Heir’s wife.

Word would spread throughout all of Prythian — sympathy and pity would be whispered your way while scrutinizing words would be thrown towards the High Lord.

Even if you despise showing such vulnerability to anyone let alone the Inner Circle, you can use it to your advantage.

You pressed yourself closer to Eris, playing the soft wife that just got attacked by a High Lord. Eris’ arms wrapped around you, as he bared his teeth against the Inner Circle.

“You attempt to attack my wife in your Court, Rhysand, and yet you have your dogs try to protect you? We have not laid a finger against you nor your Court, and you have weapons drawn against us,” anger vibrated in Eris’ tone. He knew how to play your games, he knew exactly how to play them with you — and yet the anger, the fury that lurked in his features were genuine, “You have no damn right to try to lurk in our heads, even if you are a High Lord.”

The General and the Spymaster shifted in their stance, their eyes foggy before stepping aside to reveal Rhysand, cradling his now scarred hands — that was what he got for trying to attack you in front of his people.

“…I…”

“I do not accept your apology if you ever were to have one, High Lord…” surprise tugging onto his features at your declaration, “Myself and my husband arrived on Night Court soil as guests, and yet we are treated as enemies. I have done nothing to you to cause you to try to invade my mind.”

Whispers surrounded you, words of ill-intent for their High Lord reaching your sensitive ears.

She’s right. They have done nothing to them, and yet he tried to hurt her.

The Autumn Heir had every right to act the way he did. It was to protect his wife from Rhysand.

I never did like him… He has trapped us here in the Mountain while he and his people live in Valeris.

He’s nothing but a hypocrite. He says that he welcomes all, but he hurts others as he sees fit.

You fought back a smirk, staring at the High Lord as his features flickered — his mind racing on trying how to turn the situation back to his favor. But you knew, both of you knew, it was too late for him to do anything.

Things have turned in your favor, much like you had hoped.

“I have no need to stay for the festivities any longer, Rhysand. You have attacked my wife twice in one night, your Shadowsinger earlier tonight and now you. I do not feel safe within the walls of your Court and I do not feel safe for my wife’s safety either…”

With a growl escaping his throat, he gently maneuvered you into his arms, lifting you bridal style, turning on his heels as he stepped out of the Court of Nightmares, the crowd parting to make way for him as flames surrounded the both of you. You felt him pause mid-step, and you glanced up at him with a raise of your brow. Eris looked down at you, his face contemplating for a moment before he looked over his shoulder, back at Rhysand.

“—-And the bargain between us is over High Lord… Especially after tonight. No one dares to hurt my wife in my presence.”

The Autumn Heir winnowed the both of you out of Night Court in a flash of fire and light.

And back into the depths of Autumn Court.

👑 General Tag List: @prythianpages @strangelygreat

🕯️Series Tag List: @imma-too-many-fandoms @assriels @kiarathace

[ikuneko]

In literal tears over how beautiful and soft this c0mmission from @uwibbit came out 🥹🫶 The way Jin Ling is looking at Lan Sizhui, like he is his everything, is almost too much to handle 🩵💛 Gods, I just love them so much~