#didn't go as in depth with the writing as I usually do

[snickerdoodlles]

some thoughts on writing humor for anyone interested;

if you want to incorporate more humor into your writing, what you really want to practice is timing. writing humor is rarely about writing an individual funny line-- you don't remember the punchline because of the line itself, you remember the punchline because of everything else that came before it. a punchline without a proper build up or proper timing is just a non-sequitur.

so, when writing a humor fic, a good thing to remember is that the punchline comes last. you can't have your funniest line at the start of your story. think of it like action-- if your first fight is the boss fight, any fight of lower stakes or difficulty that follows is going to feel lackluster in comparison. you want your story and your jokes to build to the final line, or else you'll step on the joke and lose its impact.

and this does take practice! putting the joke at the end doesn't always feel 'natural' at first, learning how to structure and build a humor story is a skill the same as learning how to do it for any other genre. personally, i'd also say humor is something that really comes out in the editing stage more than the initial drafts-- humor is very reliant on timing and rhythm, and it's hard to find and stick to a story's pacing when you're still working on the overall story structure. i mean, this sort of thing tends to go for any sort of writing, but nothing makes humor fall flat faster than wonky pacing and so (for me at least) editing is the stage where the story goes from "oh, haha" to actually funny.

(i also bring this up because fandom has a lot of jokes about not editing a finished draft before posting-- and like, totally feel you, i'm not huge on editing after i reach the end of the draft. however, i have noticed in fic circles where people will get caught up on and sometimes even discouraged by trying to be funny in the fic larva stages when the framework to be funny just isn't there yet. personally, i highlight the humor lines i'm unsure about and move on. then, when the fic's closer to 90% done or so, it's much easier to skim the overall story and cut/format/refine/etc any jokes because they're already highlighted for easy finding.)

another thing to keep in mind is that humor as a writing device is often used to release tension. i would say this is a large part of why humor often falls very naturally into scene transitions; that natural release of tension is very useful as an 'end bracket' to a scene while also setting up the audience to be freshly wound up again. this feature is useful for stories aiming for a more light-hearted tone overall, but in general stories often incorporate humor as a way of controlling a story's pacing so that the tension doesn't get too tight too fast. even if a punchline isn't your end goal, you're still building up to something and it's really helpful to edit your humorous lines by asking "does this fit with my scene/story's pacing, or is it disruptive to my buildup?"

it doesn't really matter how funny an individual line might be on its own-- if its disruptive to the story's overall flow, the joke's effect is going to come off as strained and forced. because humor is really an exercise in structure and story rhythm, the most ineffective way to study humor is to fixate on the individual jokes you remember in your favorite stories-- instead look for the threads that came before the joke that made it memorable, and then practice doing that in your own writing. usually when humor falls flat in a story, it's because either the specific joke pops out of nowhere (missing the build-up) or the joke is in the wrong spot in the story (disruptive, breaks reader immersion). sometimes the fix is as easy as reshuffling a few lines, other times it's a matter of adding more to the build up, or even cutting it altogether so that something else packs a bigger punch.

tl;dr-- i'm repeating the old adage "in comedy, timing is everything." if you want to get better at writing or incorporating humor into your stories, it's honestly more important to practice when to drop a joke than the specific wording of the joke itself.

[fairyysoup]

easy living

pairing: eric (a quiet place: day one) x fem!reader

summary: You ran into Eric on accident. Now you're facing the end of the world together. How do you get to know someone when you can't make a sound?

tags: smut, oral (f receiving), dry humping, piv sex, silent fucking, angst, hurt/comfort, survival, discussions of trauma, slight suicidal ideation by reader, words of affirmation as a love language, stay silent or die (obviously), strangers to lovers, apocalyptic, the cheesiest ending bc it's me writing, billie holiday lyrics bc it's also me writing

a/n: here it is, the silent fucking fic i promised y'all a year ago when this movie was announced. it was supposed to be like 1-2k words of plain smut but then I got too into the theory of what one does when you can't show affection through words and I genuinely discovered a tidbit of trauma I didn't know I had while writing it so I will be talking to a therapist about it, and also I'm literally out here baring my soul lol.

i also want to thank @bigtiddythanos @raraeavesmoriendi and @maximoffwxnda for supporting me throughout this writing process <3 this fic literally would not have been finished or published without y'all

ALL MY WORKS ARE 18+ MINORS DNI

The rain has ended. Morose, you stare up at the ceiling, wondering when you’ll get something close to free reign with your voice again. 

Of course the world had to end while you were at fucking Whole Foods.

You’ll miss certain things. Things you always took for granted, that you never even considered made a lot of noise until now. Typing on the computer. Making stir fry. Microwaving a burrito at 3am. Lighting a match, washing your face. Taking a shower.

And other things, too, that are more obvious, like singing while making cookies. Slurping the bottom of a milkshake. You’ll never be able to have a pet bird. You’ll never be able to see another concert again, and damn it if you didn’t really want those Glastonbury tickets a month ago. But it all just seems trivial, now. You don’t see why you shouldn’t just lay here on the couch forever. 

On the other side of the coffee table there’s a gentle shuffling. Eric rouses as quietly as he can; at the very least, your apartment creates a hospitable enough environment that he isn’t startled awake. It’s so silent in the apartment that you can hear the slight shift in his intake of breath, the rustle of the pillow as he turns his head to look at you. 

You want to look at him, but you fear that you’ll end up wanting to talk. So, you say nothing. You do nothing. You stare at the white paint on the ceiling and you wonder whether it would be better to get on one of the boats headed out into the water, or to move inland, away from people, away from sound. There has to be somewhere far enough away from the city that the… creatures won’t go, right?

Eric waves his hand in your periphery, so that you have no choice but to acknowledge that you know he’s awake. You have no choice but to turn your head and look into the depths of his eyes, and feel all the pain of the last 48 hours return to you. You’d been able to talk last night, just enough, in time with the rain and the thunder– enough to learn that he has family across the world. 

You can’t imagine knowing that somewhere, across an ocean and half a world away, your parents may or may not be dead. No way to contact them, no way to know what’s become of them. You can’t even begin to fathom the fear that he’s feeling, as much as you’re despairing. 

Eric’s big eyes tell you everything. Sadness and fear, and trying to grasp at the smallest hint of normalcy he can get. He blinks at you, and mouths, You okay?

No, you’re definitely not okay. Things are not okay. Things are broken and can’t be fixed. Things will never be the same again. He knows that, as much as you know that. But you nod anyway, even though you feel your heart beat a little bit slower than usual, like it wants to just go ahead and give up already. Tears prick at your eyes, and you have to close them before you let on that you’re lying.

Eric knows you’re lying, of course. How could anyone be okay, in this kind of situation? But he waits until you open your eyes, and then he mouths, Coffee?

You let out a small sigh of relief, and a smile that’s indescribably warm crosses your face. Even though he can’t make a sound, he knows exactly what to say.

You don’t have a coffee maker that doesn’t also make a ton of noise. But through some kind of witchcraft, Eric quietly empties two k-cups into a glass measuring cup and boils a soup pot full of water on the stove, and suddenly you have hot coffee in front of you. 

On a notepad left on the counter, you write, Wish I had some tea for you. 

Eric’s lips turn up at the edges, and he takes the pen from you. You’re able to doctor your coffee for about one second before he slides the notepad back to you.

Bloody American.

Your ensuing huff of a laugh is enough to make him turn pink around the ears, and he turns to place the dirty measuring cup into the sink. He reaches for the faucet, but then thinks better of it. You’ll have to figure out how to wash the dishes later.

You both drink your coffee in silence on the couch. You never considered yourself uncomfortable with silence; you’ve lived alone, you’ve gone for weeks without uttering a word before. But it’s so difficult to be sitting next to someone– someone you feel you could really get to like– and not be able to say a word. To make a sound, laugh or cry or snort or grunt. 

You’ll never be able to know what Eric’s laugh sounds like, or listen to his favorite song with him, or watch some stupid rerun of Friends with him while ignoring your responsibilities. He’s right there next to you, he’s risked his life to save you once already, and yet he’s so far away. You’ll never get to know him in all the ways you want to. Will you ever really know him at all?

He’d created a diversion when one of the fucking things had you trapped in a corner, between a dumpster and a brick wall. He chucked a rock at a car and set off an alarm, and then ran with you down an alleyway, his arm wrapped tight around your waist. Eric looked so sad, following you like a lost puppy. He was fucking drenched, too, so you know he’d probably been through one hell of a morning. And then the rain started, and the creatures were confused and… well, you weren’t just gonna leave him, scared and alone.

You, too, were scared and alone.

Eric’s hand appears to brush away a tear that had begun to fall down your cheek, betraying your internal monologue. You look to him with puffy eyes, and he pulls his hand away, suddenly unsure of whether you’re okay with such an intimate gesture. 

Your coffee cup meets the table with a quiet tap. You’re slow to move, but you scoot towards him, his arm still outstretched towards you, his eyes wide. Eric has the prettiest eyes in the world, you think. You want to tell him so.

But you’re a little too choked up to form words, anyways. Your forehead meets Eric’s shoulder, and his arm comes around you before you can huff the first silent sob that brims up. He coos softly into your hair, so softly that you can barely hear it, but it conveys enough. It does enough. 

The world is fucked. Your life is fucked. You have tunnel vision and you can only see things getting worse from here on; the only good thing you know anymore is holding you and caressing your head so gently that it pushes your tears out for you. 

You’ll never get to see a movie in a theater, and smell the stale popcorn again. You’ll never drive down the highway with the wind in your hair. You’ll never ride a roller coaster or sing karaoke. You’ll never go to a club and have a drunken heart to heart with a stranger in a bathroom.

“Do you think it’s worth it?” You whisper, so faintly that it’s barely above a breath, your lips pressed to the shell of his ear. “To try to exist in a world where you have to pretend like you don’t exist?”

Eric pauses, holding you to him. You can see the wheels turning in his head, while he tries to figure out what to say. Then he turns his face to put his lips against your ear, the same way you’d done to him. 

“I think it’s worth it to try to survive.” His breath tickles your skin when he whispers, “So survive with me, yeah?”

You nod solemnly, your tears threatening to rise up again. “I can’t stand not talking to you.” It’s so hard to keep your voice from cracking, from rising above the merest hint of a whisper, directly to him and no one or nothing else. 

Eric takes it in stride. “You are talking to me.” He pulls back and bats his eyelashes, and you think, he oughta fucking know what that does to me. 

“Not like this,” you breathe to him, because that’s really what it is– it’s a breath. A sigh. A gust of air and nothing else, barely anything that registers on your vocal chords. Your hand on the back of his neck, pulling him close to you. His hand, tightening on the middle of your back, holding you there. “I want to talk– I want to get to know you.” 

“Well, this isn’t so bad, is it?” Eric turns his head. His forehead nudges yours at the temple, and you swear you see a flash of a smile on his face. “What do you want to know?” 

His forefinger traces up and down, up and down, a gentle pattern that keeps you grounded. You bite your lip, trying to keep from letting the sounds come out too loud. You say the first thing that comes to mind. “What’s your favorite song?”

“Easy Living. Billie Holiday.” 

“You’re kidding.” You’re blushing, hot in the cheeks. You’re imagining it; slow dancing in the kitchen with him while oldies plays on the radio. You didn’t think such an innocent question would send you spiraling like this, but it hurts worse to know that it will probably never happen.

“Absolutely not.” 

“Somehow… I can’t picture you listening to jazz.” 

“Picture it all you want,” he whispers. Eric swallows, and continues, “My granddad used to have these records, and we used to play them on Christmas. But when– when he died, the records went missing. I couldn’t find the song until a couple years ago,” he explains, and his voice cracks just slightly into a murmur. 

You both freeze. You wait for the sound of creatures coming down the hallway, busting down the walls… nothing happens. You let out a breath, and you pull his face closer to yours. His eyes flick over your face, and you put your lips against his ear. 

“You have to be so quiet. Can you do that for me?” Eric nods in your hands. “I wish we could do anything but this. I wish that we could have met in better circumstances. I wish… I wish I had known you before all of this. I think we would have had a lot of fun. But if this is the only way I can get to know you, and hear your voice now, I’ll take it.” You’re nodding as well now, like you’re trying to convince yourself of it. “I’m telling you this because I don’t know how long we have. Together, I mean. And I don’t want to waste it passing notes. Okay?” 

“Okay.” He sounds clipped. His hand fidgets on your back, and you pull away to find him misty-eyed, his brows turned up. He fishes for words that don’t come, and then he nods. “Okay.” 

Neither of you move. The atmosphere around you feels heavy, like it’s pressing in on all sides. Eric’s hand slides up your back and to your face, and you remember that you’re still holding his. You’re near sitting in his lap with how close you’ve become, and the realization of that feels like a punch to the gut.

You think you should pull away. You don’t. 

Eric’s thumb traces a gentle arc across your bottom lip. It’s so featherlight it’s barely there– his eyes are honed in on your mouth, clearly lost in thought. You’d let him stay there as long as he wants, but you want every minute you can get. “Eric–”

He closes the gap and kisses you. The way you’d said his name– or not said it, rather, you sort of mouthed it against his thumb– had done the job you wanted it to. It feels like this was the obvious conclusion to the system you’d worked out, the close proximity and your shared fears. He’s scared, he said as much last night. You’re scared, you said so just now. 

Nowhere to go, nothing else to do except be right here, living. Alive, together. Kissing Eric, and him pulling you close by the waist, so that you do swing your leg and seat yourself in his lap. And as much as you love talking, and it breaks your heart that you can’t jabber at him, there are some things you just can’t put into words. Like the way that his hand on the back of your neck lights you up inside, or that you can’t think of anything other than all the areas where his skin is touching yours, and how you suddenly wish there was way more of them.

It’s stupid how much you like him already, really. You can feel your nonexistent friends clucking their tongues and shaking their heads, saying, “One day? That’s all it takes? You find some guy at the end of the world and you fall in love in 24 hours?” And they’d be right– maybe it’s not love. Not yet, anyways. But you could see it easily becoming that. And that fact scares you even more.

Your hands find Eric’s chest and the frantic beating of his heart tells you nearly the same thing. You break the kiss, trying to quietly catch your breath without gasping like you’re half-drowning. It’s harder than you expected. 

“Been wanting to do that all morning,” Eric whispers. And just like that you’re falling again, faster this time, like he’s just melted your wings right off and sent you plummeting.

You struggle to keep from gasping aloud when he kisses your jaw, just beneath your ear. It’s the lightest touch but you swear it burns, sears your skin. 

Your hands find the back of the couch, twitchy fingers digging in to keep you steady. Your mouth finds his again, his tongue tasting of coffee, and Eric kisses you a bit harder now, a bit sloppier. 

Breaking away, you open your eyes to find his wide, starstruck, his mouth hanging open like he’s been shocked beyond belief. You didn’t honestly intend for this to happen– you wanted to talk. But somehow this seems better, more appropriate. 

How do you get your feelings across when talking isn’t really an option? When innocent attraction becomes… whatever this is? 

You press a single finger to his plush lips, signaling exactly what you mean without a word. Quiet. 

Eric purses his lips, kisses your finger without breaking eye contact. His pupils are blown out so far that the barest hint of golden brown surrounds them, glinting in the sunlight from the window. 

You lean forward, until your mouth touches his ear. “Your eyes are so fucking pretty, Eric,” you whisper to him, and your teeth latch onto his earlobe to tug gently. You can’t help it– you grind your hips down into his lap, without even thinking of doing it. “You’re so pretty.”

Eric whimpers. It’s a soft sound, hollow in the back of his throat, but it’s still too loud for the world that you’re in. You clamp your hand down over his mouth, and his breath comes out sharp and hot over your knuckles as he tries to regain composure.

“Do you want me to stop?” You ask him, whispering gently in his ear. Against you, he shakes his head no. “Want me to keep going?” Eric nods his head yes. 

He’s shaking under you, his fingertips digging into your lower back like he can’t hold onto you hard enough. At the thought, your pulse pounds, blood positively humming through your veins. 

You nuzzle his cheek, and give him the sweetest kiss you can while your hand is still clamped over his mouth insistently. “You have to be. Fucking. Silent. Do you understand?” He nods. “We can’t make a sound. Okay?” 

Eric nods again, and keeps nodding until you let him go. If the rain was still pouring like earlier, you could tell him how much you want him, too. How you don’t want to be mean, you just don’t want to get hurt. This is a bad idea, all things considered. But Eric slides his hand down and cups your ass to lift you up a bit, and the words bad and idea suddenly fucking vanish from your vocabulary.

You stand long enough to kick off your sweats, your day old panties going down with them. You hadn’t dressed to be sexy yesterday, you dressed to get groceries. You don’t necessarily want Eric to see your faded cotton underwear with the stretched out elastic and multiple frayed holes. You don’t think it would add to your sex appeal right now. 

He doesn’t notice the lack of a strip tease– he’s already taking you by the hips, not even waiting for you to shuck your t-shirt. He pulls until you’re stood in front of him, and then hooks your leg over his shoulder. 

So. Eric doesn’t need to be asked to go down on you, he just does. The gentleman. His hands are firm on your ass as he nuzzles into the patch of hair between your legs, and the precarious balancing act makes you snatch onto the back of the couch again. 

His tongue glides through the folds of your pussy slowly, methodically. You aren’t sure if he wants to take his time, or if he’s going slow so that he doesn’t make too much noise when doing it, but he latches onto your clit and sucks agonizingly softly, like he knows he should do it harder but won’t risk making you moan. 

It’s so gentle, and it builds. Pretty soon, you’re having a tough time keeping your whimpers in, even when he’s basically just teasing you, flicking his tongue over your clit with even the barest pressure. Your head has fallen back on your shoulders, your hand now clasped over your own mouth to stifle your sighs. 

Then, Eric’s hand glides up to splay across your lower back, and he sucks long and hard at your clit, and your hand squeezes murderously at the back of the couch while you ride out your orgasm on his tongue. 

Knees buckling, you collapse into Eric’s lap. He has a doe-eyed look on his face that’s way too innocent after what he just did to you. With panting breath and shaking hands, you cup his rosy cheeks in your palms, shaking your head in disbelief. 

Eric’s brows tilt in worry, like he did something wrong. He opens his mouth, but you put your fingers against his lips to silence him, and lean forward to breathe, “You’re too sweet for me, Eric.” 

He traces his fingers lightly up your spine, and turns his head. “Maybe one day I won’t have to be sweet. Maybe then I can really fuck you.” 

The sound of his whispering voice in your ear makes you shiver, your lust reaching a boiling point. The idea of him really fucking you– that this isn’t even him as normal, that he’s having to hold so much back– makes you burn hot all at once. That this isn’t something he’s planning on doing once. That there’s a ‘one day’ that he sees in the future with you in it. 

With a nod, your breath catches in your throat. You find your way to his mouth again, kissing him desperately. You can taste yourself lingering on his lips, and your hips rock forward against his again. 

Eric inhales sharply, stifling his own moan. You guess you have to take it just as slowly as he did, ease him into it. You work your hand beneath his unbuttoned fly and palm him, keeping your touch gentle against his hot skin. He shakes, his hands laid out against your spine, his eyes sparkling when he looks up at you. 

You push your forehead against his as you sink onto his cock, letting yourself adjust to his size. His breath stutters as he tries to keep quiet, small puffs of air spilling out and meeting your electrified skin. You curl your fingers into the hair at the nape of his neck, rocking your hips just barely, settling into his lap. 

This is more intimate than you can ever remember being with anyone, but right now it just feels right. Maybe it could be cathartic to fuck like a couple of animals in the face of doom, but Eric pulls your body flush against his, one strong forearm around your waist, and his nose nudges yours, and you think this is better. This is what you both need. Closeness. Sweetness. 

There isn’t a lot of movement– you can’t risk it. You and Eric seem to be in agreement on that, because as soon as you start trying to move in earnest, he just pulls you back to him, his arm around your waist and his hand petting the back of your head. 

Eric rocks his hips up into yours slowly, deeply, and it’s the depth of it and the slow sensuality that keeps you floating. Your clit catches on the patch of hair at the base of his cock each time you roll your hips with him, and you have to kiss him to keep from keening aloud. He doesn’t seem to mind it. 

You know he’s close when he tucks his face against your neck, his arm tightening around you. “Feels so fucking good,” comes his whine in your ear, and you gently shush him, your hand resting on the back of his head to keep him muffled against your shoulder. You want so badly to look at his face when he cums, but there’s that pesky issue of staying alive, and that hinges on whether or not he can keep quiet when he does. 

To his credit, he bites your shoulder and only whimpers a little bit. It’s just a squeak, but really, he could have been much louder about it, and then you would have both been in trouble. Imagine having to run for your life with your pants down. 

Ever the gentleman, he keeps you there even after he’s spent and sensitive, his hand clamped down on your thigh to prevent you from moving. His thumb finds your clit, and he lifts his head to watch you, his hooded eyes trained on your face as he brings you to the edge and over it again. He watches the way your brows tilt up, the way you struggle to keep your own eyes open, and the silent moan that threatens to break past your parted lips.

Eric claps his hand down over your mouth before it can. Your eyes fly open, your cunt clenches down around him, and he bares his teeth as you cum hard. It’s cyclical, comes in waves as he continues to stroke you through it, as he keeps his hand clamped down on your mouth to keep you quiet. 

To keep you quiet. 

Feverish and exhausted, you come down with your chest against his, Eric’s head flopped back onto the backrest of the couch. Your knees fucking hurt and you have yet to get off of him, and you sort of dread the moment when you have to. But this means your mouth is positioned right next to Eric’s ear, and you’re nothing if not a talker.

“Eric?” you whisper, and he turns his head just enough to let you know he heard you. “I’m glad that I met you when I did. Even if it’s terrible timing, I’m glad we met.”

A sweet, tired smile flits across Eric’s beautiful face. He nudges his nose against your temple. “I’m glad, too.” 

You shift off of him, and he squeezes your thigh just at the same time as he scrunches his face. He’s such a trooper about it, you kiss his cheek as you go, leaning over to grab a pair of earphones from the coffee table. 

You hand one ear bud to him, watching as confusion crosses his face. He watches you type on your phone as he tucks the bud into his ear, and you the other. 

On low volume, you listen to the soft piano and saxophone intro to an old jazz standard. Eric grins, his hand finding your cheek before he pulls you in for a kiss. 

And then, Billie Holiday’s voice plays for only you two to hear. 

Living for you is easy living, It’s easy to live when you’re in love And I’m so in love, There’s nothing in life but you.

[cressidagrey]

It's a Love Story - Chapter 9

Summary:

Azriel's shadows find their master a wife.

Azriel would just really like his heart not to get broken again.

And Sky...well, she's just really surprised that that far too handsome male is interested in her at all.

Warning:

Rhys Bashing (as usual), I classified this as Azriel x OC, even when it't technically Azriel x Sellyn Drake (but we kinda know nothing about Sellyn Drake other than that she writes books so Sky is kinda an OC), Cassian is kinda a good guy for once, Azriel has a horrible time, as usual... Stuttering, toxic families (For once I do not mean the IC), Self-Esteem Issues, Secret Identity, Body Image Issues, Fat Shaming, People being utterly horrible. Racism against Illyrians/Lesser Faes?

If any of this triggers you or makes you uncomfortable, please take care of your own mental health and don't read it.

Rhys had the seething hot realisation that he had really fucked up on Winter Solstice.

Before that…well. He could still pretend.

Pretend that maybe Azriel just needed time. That he just needed…time to adjust and would get over himself eventually.

Would get over Solstice two years ago. Would get over Mor finding her mate in Emerie… Would get over it all.

That it was just him moping and licking his wounds and he would be back to normal. That maybe he just needed to punch Rhys, get it out of his system and it would be done.

So Rhys had baited him.

Repeatedly.

Azriel didn’t fight. Didn’t protest.

As a boy…Az had attacked snarling and growling, furious and vicious.

Rhys had waited for that same exact result.

Nothing of that sort had happened.

Now…Now Azriel just looked at him, eyes dark and cold…

“Why should I tell you? I may trust you with this court, Rhysand, but I do not trust you with anything I love. Not anymore.”

And then he turned and left. Not giving them a second look. 

Rhys could just stare at him. 

He had expected anger, protests, anything. But this...this was worse.

This was Azriel putting him on notice that he didn't trust Rhys at all anymore.

For a moment it was silent. 

Then Cassian broke it. 

"Give me one good reason, why I shouldn't fucking snap your neck for talking to my brother like that," Cassian seethed. "One reason."

"I didn't...think...

"You didn't think?" Cassian repeated, his voice sharp and incredulous. "Really? You didn't think that your words and actions could have a negative impact on Azriel? You just expected him to be fine after you basically told him that you don't trust him to act like an adult around Elain? That you think Elain and Mor are more important than him? You're unbelievable, Rhys."

"I did what was best for the court," Rhys protested feebly.

"Yes, a spymaster that doesn't trust his High Lord is incredibly good for our court," Cassian agreed with a sage nod, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "You told him to go to a fucking pleasure hall and pay for it? You told Azriel of all people that?! What is fucking wrong with you, Rhys?!"

Rhys let out a frustrated sigh. "I was trying to make a point, Cassian," he said. "He wasn't really in love with Elain, he just liked the idea of her."

Cassian gaped at Rhys, his anger simmering just beneath the surface. "That's bullshit, Rhys, and you know it," he snapped. "Azriel had feelings for Elain, real feelings. Maybe still has them. Who knows. He was ready to die, so that Lucien could live. He did that for her.  Tell me to my face again that he didn't really love her."

Rhys ran a hand over his face, his frustration clear. "I...I may have underestimated the depth of Azriel's feelings for Elain," he admitted grudgingly. "But my duty as High Lord is to protect my court first and foremost. And I really didn't want to deal with a Blood Duel. Beron was still in play then, before Eris got rid of him. If he got wind..."

"I understand your duties, Rhys," Cassian said, his voice gentler now. "But you went too far this time. You crossed a line, and Azriel feels betrayed and hurt. You dismissed his feelings as if they didn't matter, and that's not right. He's not just your spymaster or soldier, he's your brother."

He was. Which was exactly why Rhys didn't want him anywhere near that particular powder keg at that time. And then Elain had already chosen her mate, and Rhys thought with that...it was done.

"He's just being stubborn. He'll get over himself eventually," Rhys said. Right?

That's how far he got, before Cassian punched him straight into the nose.

Rhys stumbled back, clutching his nose. "What the hell, Cassian?" he demanded, his voice muffled by the blood gushing from his nose.

Cassian stared at him, his expression unreadable. "You are really, really stupid, Rhys. Idiotic. Azriel’s not being stubborn, he's heartbroken. Hurt. Betrayed. And you treat his feelings as if they are nothing!"

Rhys winced, his eyes watering from the pain and the accusation in Cassian's words. "I...I just wanted to protect him. I thought it was for the best..."

Cassian barked out a sharp laugh. "You were doing more harm than good, Rhys. You can't just push someone's feelings aside because it's convenient for you. That's not how relationships work, especially not between brothers."

"And what the fuck were you thinking when you told him to behave about Mor?! Did you ever even consider to maybe try and get Mor to talk to Azriel? That maybe that would be a good solution? Make her apologise for treating him like she did treat him? Azriel had every fucking right to be hurt and angry at her. He would have had every fucking right and Mor would have needed to accept that!"

Rhys winced again. "I...I just didn't want any… arguments, Cassian. Mor and Emerie are happy now. I didn't want to dredge up old hurts and cause tensions within the court."

"So because Azriel keeps his feelings quiet and doesn't complain, you just treated him like shit. Great job, High Lord," Cassian drawled.

Rhys flinched at Cassian's words. Deep down he knew Cassian was right. He had been too focused on preserving the peace and avoiding conflict, that he had overlooked and dismissed Azriel's feelings.

"Azriel has done everyhting in his power to make everybody around him comfortable. Nobody ever does the same for him," Cassian said darkly. "I fucked up too, you know. With Mor. With not being there when I should be...but at least I never told Azriel to Behave like he is either your dog or a child." Cassian shook his head. "I have no fucking clue if you even can fix this, Rhys, even if you wanted to. He clearly doesn't trust you at all anymore."

That had just become very fucking clear. 

"I...I never meant to hurt him," Rhys said, his voice cracking. "I just...I thought I was doing what was best for him. For everyone."

"Azriel was willing to go to war for you," Cassian said sharply. "We both were. We knew that everything involving you and Feyre and Tamlin was a war waiting too happen. But we took that risk. And hwne it was time for you to take that risk for your brother, you chose your court over him, Rhys. I get it. I understand why you did it, even if I disagree...I could forgive you that. BUt you telling Azriel to go to a pleasure hall, because he doesn't know his own feelings..."

Rhys felt the weight of Cassian's words settling in his gut like a heavy stone. He had never considered that his actions could be interpreted that way. "But...you have to understand, Cassian. I have responsibilities, a duty to the Night Court and its people. I have to consider the impact every decision has."

“And in this, you were also Azriel’s brother,” Cassian cut him off. “I don’t care about your reasoning. You need to start with a fucking apology. You treated him worse than you would every other of your soldiers.” 

Rhys swallowed. 

To say that Cassian was furious…That was a fucking understatmeent. 

And even if…even if he ignored this…there was something else that…

"His mother..." he wasn't sure how to ask that question. 

"Azriel made that decision," Cassian said calmly. "He didn't want you to feel like that was in any way your fault because you sealed Velaris for 50 years.  Quite frankly...I think Azriel's mother has been searching for an excuse not to see him anymore for a very long time."

Rhys' expression fell, the weight of guilt pressing down on him even more heavily now, if that was even possible. "I...I didn't know," he said quietly. "I...I really didn't know that it had come to this between Azriel and his mother. I...I really didn't, Cassian, I swear."

"Of course you didn't. We kept it from you," Cassian said drily. "Azriel does know how to keep a secret. Which we have just seen. I had absolutely no clue that he has met his mate."

Rhys swallowed. This should...It should have been...something happy that Azriel met his mate. He should have been telling Rhys and Cassian all about it, eyes alight with excitement and not...not spit it out just to spite Rhys.

He had really messed it up this time, hadn't he? Rhys knew that he had to make things right with Azriel, even if it meant facing the hard truth about how he had failed him as a brother and a High Lord.

"Who do you think she is?" he asked weakly.

Cassian stared at him. "I don't fucking care. She can be Sellyn Drake for all I care and I'll be her very best friend as long as she treats Azriel well and makes him happy," Cassian told him tightly. "And you...You'll keep out of it."

Rhys recoiled as if he had been slapped, but he knew Cassian was righr. He had lost the right to be involved in Azriel's personal life, and it was his own fault.

"An apology is the least you owe Azriel,  Rhys. And you owe Mor the fucking truth as well. Namely that the only reason that Azriel is probably civil to her, is that you ordered him to. Actually, you owe all of us the truth."

Rhys grimaced.  He knew that he had to come clean and face the consequences of his actions, even if it meant causing more chaos and unrest within his court. "Feyre is going to kill me," he mumbled under his breaht. Cassian didn't look sorry in the slightest.

"Then you shouldn't have behaved like a fucking asshole," Cassian gave back flatly. "Let's go back to Velaris. We'll have this discussion now.”

Rhys nodded, a sense of resignation washing over him. He took a deep breath and steeled himself for the difficult conversation that was awaitng him.

"What happened to your nose?" Feyre asked as soon as he entered the River House. "Where's Az?"

"I broke it," Cassian gave back drily. "Don't worry, Rhysand deserves worse."

Rhys grimaced at the thought of having to explain the whole situation to Feyre. "Azriel...he got...upset. We had a fight. And Cassian punched me. It's...it's complicated," Rhys mumbled. 

"Correction," Cassian snapped. "You were an utter prick to Azriel, who decided that he would rather spent Winter Solstice with his mate that none of us knew existed. And I punched you, because you didn't even fucking understand what you did wrong in the first place."

Feyre's eyes widened in disbelief as she listened to Cassian's explanation. "Rhys, what is he talking about?" she asked, her voice tinged with concern. "Why would Azriel get so upset?"

"Because apparently, Little Rhysie in his infinite wisdom, did not only tell Azriel and I quote "If you want to fuck somebody, go to a pleasure hall and pay for it," when he found out about Azriel's crush on Elain, but has also apparently spent the last 2 years telling my brother to "behave" like he's some kind of dog," Cassian said sarcastically. Rhys grimaced. "You should consider yourself lucky that I only broke your nose," Cassian told him darkly. "I ought to fucking throttle you for doing this to Az."

Shock and anger poured all over the mating bond and he met Feyre’s eyes with no small amount of trepidation. 

Feyre stared at him, her expression a mix of shock and disappointment. "Is that true, Rhys? Did you really say that to Azriel?"

"Feyre Darling..." he started. 

*Did you really tell Azriel "If you want to fuck somebody, go to a pleasure hall and pay for it.”?* she demanded mentally.

Rhys winced, knowing that he couldn't lie to Feyre through the bond. *I...I may have said something along those lines,* he admitted reluctantly.

Feyre narrowed her eyes at Rhys. "And the whole 'behave' thing?" she asked sharply.

Rhys looked down, unable to meet Feyre's gaze. "I...I may have used that phrase a few times," he said quietly.

"A few times?" Feyre repeated, her voice rising in anger. "How many times, Rhys? How many times did you tell Azriel to 'behave' because of his feelings for Elain?"

“It wasn’t about Elain. It was also about Mor,“ Cassian said drily.

“What?“ Mor demanded. 

Rhys winced as he realized that the truth was about to come out. 

"Mor, I-"

Mor's eyes narrowed as she took in Rhys' reaction. "Tell me, Rhysand. What did you say to Azriel about me?"

Rhys sighed heavily, knowing that he couldn't avoid this conversation anymore. "I...I may have told Azriel to 'behave' around you and Emerie. I was afraid that his feelings for you would cause tension within the court."

Mor's eyes widened in disbelief. "You told him to behave around me?” She swallowed these beautiful brown eyes lined with tears. “You…I thought…I thought he was…he was happy for us but it’s was only because you told him to behave. I let him be, I didn’t try to talk to him, because he seemed fine.”

Rhys winced at Mor's words, feeling the weight of his actions. "I thought it would be easier for everyone, Mor.”

“Easier to make him lie?” Mor asked him, her voice tight. “Easier to forbid him to express his actual feelings? I know…I didn’t behave right with him but I thought we were better. But we weren’t. He was just acting like everything was fine so you wouldn’t lay into him and punish him for misbehaving!”

Rhys felt a pang of guilt in his chest. "I...I never meant to hurt him, Mor. I thought I was doing what was best for everyone."

Mor shook her head, her eyes shimmering with tears. "You weren't doing what was best for him. You were doing what was easiest for you."

Rhys dropped his gaze, knowing that he had brought this situation upon himself. "I...I don't know how to make it right," he admitted. "I've lost his trust, and I don't know if I can ever earn it back."

Amren huffed, crossing her arms, her dark eyes glittering with annoyance. "Well, you certainly made a mess of things, Rhysand." She leaned in closer, her voice low and intense. "But you'd better find a way to fix it. And fast. Because we're not just talking about Azriel here. We're talking about the future of this court."

Rhys nodded tightly. "I know," he said quietly. 

He was very much aware what it would mean to their court if Azriel decided to leave them. The disadvantage they woul find themselves in…and this didn’t even start to cover the personal loss of losing his brother. 

“Leave him be,” Nesta said at that moment. 

Rhys turned to Nesta, his expression conflicted. "I can't just do nothing, Nesta. He's my brother,” he told his sister-in-law, but Nesta wasn’t having it, sticking out her chin. 

"And yet you treated him like some kind of attack dog who needed to be kept under control. That's not how you treat a brother, Rhys," she seethed. “I ought to stab you.”

Rhys flinched at Nesta's words, knowing that she was right. "I know," he said quietly. "I was wrong, and I need to make things right with him."

"You sure as hell better," Cassian growled. "Azriel doesn't deserve any of this bullshit."

***

To his surprise… Sky was at home.

He hadn’t thought she would be there…he thought he would be greeted by an annoyed Hector, who would be bitchy that it was him coming home and not Sky. 

But Hector was nowhere to be seen. He could hear his meowing though. 

He found his mate buried in their bed, seemingly all the blankets in the house put on top of herself…and Hector pawing at the mountain of blankets, demanding to be let in. 

"Are you hiding from the world, my love?" He asked softly, as he crawled into the bed next to her, lifting a few blankets so Hector could slither underneath them, which he did immediately. He carefully pulled the blankets away from her face and Sky looked at him, eyes red from crying. 

In the same breath he suddenly picked up the salty scent of tears. That was all he needed to pull her into his arms. 

“I thought you were having dinner with your family,” Sky whispered, her voice hoarse, burying her face against his chest. 

“Didn’t end well,” he told her drily. “Yours?”

“Didn’t end well either,” she said with a laugh that turned into a sob.

A soft sniffle. No. Not again. He couldn’t deal with her crying. He couldn’t��it ripped apart his hear to see his mate like that and he held her tighter."It's all right, love," he murmured, holding her close. "I'm here with you now. Let it all out." He gently ran his hand up and down her back, trying to soothe her.

"Tell me what's happened," he said gently, his voice filled with concern.

“I…I am a ho…horrible p…person,” Sky whimpered. 

He nearly wanted to laugh at the pure ridiculousness of that statement. Sky, the sweetest person he had ever met, a horrible person? Not possible.

"You're not a horrible person," he said firmly. "Not at all. You're the kindest, most compassionate person I've ever met."

“I…I to…told Cl…Claire th…that at le…least I…I do…don’t ha…have my si…sister’s slop…sloppy se…seconds.”

He needed a moment to parse it, her stutter worse than he had ever heard it. 

“What?” he could just ask dumbly as he blinked. Sky? Sky had said what?!

“I…I to…told Cl…Claire th…that at le…least I…I do…don’t ha…have my si…sister’s slop…sloppy se…seconds,” she repeated and began to cry again, hiding her face in her hands. “I…I am a ho…horrible p…person,” she whimpered.

Azriel gently took her hands in his, guiding them away from her face. "You're not a horrible person, sweetheart," he said firmly. 

She wasn’t. 

He highly doubted that Sky had said that without…without her sister saying something worse first. 

And it wasn’t like it wasn’t…"Besides…you said nothing that wasn’t true,” Azriel said drily.."

Sky hiccuped out a laugh and then started crying in the earnest again. 

“That’s why you are so upset?” He asked softly, against her warm skin. “You aren’t a horrible person. I swear. 

“N..no.” Sky said softly. “I…I am ne..never se…seeing them again.”

Azriel's heart sank at her words. "Your family? Why…why are you never seeing them again?"

“I…I am ne..never se…seeing them again. Not after what they…they said.” She was dead serious. He could hear that in her voice. 

And it was…

Azriel's heart clenched at the thought of her severing ties with her family, of her…they treated her horrible but Sky loved them. Sky loved them so much. So much more than they deserved.  "What did they say, sweetheart?" he asked gently.

Sky took a shaky breath, struggling to get the words out. "They... They said…said so…some things," she whispered, her voice quavering. "Things I can't…I can’t for…forgive them for."

"What did they say, sweetheart?" he asked again, his voice gentle yet firm. "I want to know."

He wanted to know. And then he wanted to kill them for upsetting her like this. 

Sky closed her eyes, tears streaming down her face. "You do…don’t want to know."

Azriel took her face in his hands, gently wiping away her tears. "I do want to know," he corrected her softly. "Because whatever they said, it hurt you, and I want to be there for you."

“They…They had a pro…problem with the fact that you were Ill…Illyrian,” she whispered.

Ah. “You don’t need to say anything more,” he said wryly. “But I promise that I have heard worse. If you still want to be around them…” he hated how they treated sky but he was not about to let her cut off contact with her family just because they didn’t like him. He could deal with that. He had survived worse.

Sky shook her head fiercely. "No,” she said, her voice so weak…and so definitive. “No.” 

Azriel's heart swelled with love for her as she stood her ground. "I understand, sweetheart," he murmured, pulling her closer. "If that's what you want, I'll stand by you, whatever you decide. But I don't want you to make this decision because of me."

“They…They told me that you were a cre…creature and a mo..monster and that they were surprised you hadn’t rip…ripped me apart. My father threatened to disinherit me if I didn’t give up the m…mating bond. So I told him I never wanted to hear a single word from him ever again,” she whispered, her voice growing stronger. 

Azriel's eyes darkened with anger as she recounted the hurtful things her family had said about him. He tightened his arms around her. 

"I'm so sorry, Sky," he whispered. "You don't deserve any of this. And your family doesn't deserve you."

“I coul…couldn't just…just sit there and let them say those ter…terrible things about you, about us,” Sky whispered. “I can't be around people who would say those kinds of things about the person I love the most in the world."

“…you love me?” He whispered in wonder.

She loved him? She chose him? Even over her family? Even…

Sky looked up at him, these blue eyes looking at him. “Yes. More than anything.”

He swallowed, his heart swelling. 

"I love you too, Sky. More than anything," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. "I don't know what I did to deserve you, but I'm so grateful that I have you in my life."

Sky smiled, her eyes shining with love. "You….You don't have to do a…anything to deserve me, Azriel. You just have to be yourself. That's all I've ever wanted. And I wouldn't change a thing about you. You're perfect, just the way you are."

Azriel felt a lump form in his throat. "I'm far from perfect, Sky," he said, his voice rough. "But I promise you, I will always do my best to make you happy. That's all I want."

He pressed soft kisses all over her face, making her giggle softly.

“Let’s just have our own Solstice celebration,“ he whispered softly.

Sky smiled at the idea. "Th..That sounds p…perfect," she whispered. “Just the two of us, together. It's a..all I need."

There still was a rabbit he had hunted in the cooling cabinet…and so while Azriel took care of cooking thst, Sky was making…something that involved stale bread, milk, eggs and plenty of sugar for dessert. 

Azriel smiled as he watched her work. "What in the world are you making, love?" he asked, peeking over her shoulder. "It smells delicious."

Sky grinned, holding up the bowl she was stirring. "It's…It’s a bread pudding," she said. "I found an old recipe in a c…cookbook. It's supposed to be a t…traditional Winter Solstice dessert."

Azriel raised his eyebrows in surprise. "You never cease to amaze me, sweetheart," he said, chuckling. "I can't wait to try it." He leaned over and pressed a kiss to her cheek, his heart full of adoration for her.

Sky blushed at his affection. "I just hope it turns out okay," she said, adding a pinch of cinnamon to the mix. "But even if it doesn't, it will be p…perfect just because we're together."

Azriel smiled at her words, feeling a warmth spread through his chest. "You're right," he said softly. "As long as we're together, it doesn't matter what we eat or what we do. Just being with you is a gift in itself."

“You should write poetry,” his mate told him sweetly and he couldn’t help but laugh. He had picked up one of the poetry books she kept weeks ago and had found the whole thing… well. As long as Sky liked it… 

Azriel chuckled, shaking his head. "I don't think I have the talent for poetry, sweetheart," he said, grinning. "But I'm glad you think so highly of me."

Sky playfully nudged him with her shoulder. "Oh come on, I'm sure you could write the most beautiful sonnets if you r…really tried," she teased. "I've heard you whisper s…sweet nothings in my ear before, and they sound pretty poetic to me."

Azriel laughed and wrapped his arms around her. “I'll leave the sonnets to the experts and just continue whispering sweet nothings to you instead,” he promised her softly. 

“Sounds perfect to me,” she agreed brightly.

Dinner with Sky was better than any dinner with the inner circle could be. Roasted rabbit and crusty bread, followed by caramel bread pudding…

And then it was just him and Sky wrapped into each others arms on the couch, with Hector stretched out in front of the fireplace, blankets wrapped around him…

They had promised each other to not go overboard with gifts. But clearly oone of them had not listened, which hadn’t been him… there was a pile of wrapped gifts appearing on the couch table.

Azriel raised an eyebrow at the pile of gifts, chuckling. "Well, someone certainly didn't stick to our agreement, did they?" he teased, glancing at Sky with a playful smile. "Not that I mind, of course," he added, reaching for one of the packages. "I just hope my gift isn't embarrassingly small in comparison."

“…I…I only got you o…one thing,“ Sky admitted weakly, staring at the pile of gift. 

Then who… Azriel stared at the shadows who were swirling happily around sky.

“I think I know the culprit,” he said drily.

*I thought I told you not to buy her anything new,* he told them drily.

*We didn’t!* they assure him.

Azriel chuckled at the insistent swirling of the shadows. "I don't know, love," he said with a grin. "It seems like my shadows are feeling particularly generous this year." He reached for the nearest gift and handed it to her. "Here, why don't you open this one first?"

“You got me something?” Sky asked the shadows. “You shouldn’t have! I didn’t get anything for you!”

Azriel laughed, knowing that it was pointless to try and reason with the shadows when they were in a playful mood like this. "They don't care about that, love," he said, nudging her gently. "They just want to make you happy. Go on, open it."

Azriel had no idea what to even give the shadows anyway. *You could give us permission to ruin her sisters life,* they told him brightly

Azriel laughed again, shaking his head. *As tempting as that may be, I don’t think that's the best way to spread the holiday cheer,* he said drily.

*She deserves it,* the shadows murmured. *We wouldn’t outright kill her…*

*No, you’ll find some mischievous and chaotic way to torment her and make her life miserable,* he retorted with a grin. *Don’t physically harm her,* he warned them quietly. Tacit approval. The shadows danced in the spot as Sky opened the first box. Velvet wrapped. 

Jewellery.

A chicken egg sized sapphire in the middle of a necklace consisting out of sapphire and diamonds. He just sighed. Sky stared.

“Please…Please t…tell me that’s n..not r..real,“ she said weakly, her voice shaking. 

*Of course it’s real,* the shadows assured her like even the suggestion of it being fake was an affront. *Master’s mate doesn’t wear fake gems!*

Azriel would have liked to face palm. 

"I'm afraid the shadows insist that they only give the best for their master's mate," he said wryly. 

„This must have cost a fortune!“ Sky protested. “Where am I even supposed to wear it?“

Azriel chuckled, "I wouldn't waste my breath trying to argue with the shadows.  And as for where you're supposed to wear it, well… anywhere you want, really, love."

*Please tell me you didn’t steal that,* he told the shadows

*We didn't! We got it fair and square!* the shadows protested innocently.

Azriel raised an eyebrow, not quite believing them. *And how exactly did you manage that?* he asked dryly.

*We paid for it,* they told him innocently, fluttering around like they hadn’t bought her the biggest and most expensive sapphire he had ever seen.

“I can’t…“ Sky trailed off. 

“You’ll break their heart if you turn it down,“ Azriel said with a sigh."Just accept it, love," he said gently. "They mean well, even if they have a tendency to overdo it sometimes,” he said pointedly, something the shadows happily ignored. "They have their own line of credit, so whatever they buy is theirs to do with as they please," he said drily. 

Sky grimaced, staring down at the necklace…

"Please…please tell me there isn't…isn’t more pr…priceless je…jewellery in that stack?" she asked with a grimace. "

Azriel laughed, "I wish I could tell you that, but knowing the shadows, I wouldn't be surprised if they've bought you enough jewelry to start your own royal collection."

They had behaved...mostly.

If one ignored the hair comb dripping with some other blue stone...and the earrings that matched that necklace...and the quill that he was pretty sure was encrusted with actual diamonds.

Otherwise they had procured plenty of books for Sky, and had somehow found her a whole stack of notebooks…

(He was pretty sure they lied to him when they told him that they hadn’t bought any of this stuff knew. Where had they kept it otherwise?!)

Azriel couldn't help but shake his head in amusement as Sky opened each gift one by one. "Well, at least they managed to keep it under control for the most part," he said with a wry smile. "But knowing them, I'm sure there's still more where that came from."

Sky's eyes widened as she looked at all the gifts. "This is too much," she protested weakly. "I don't deserve all of this," she muttered. He would have argued, but instead he just pressed a kiss to her temple.  "Thank you very much," she thanked the shadows that happily twirled around her hair at her words.

Azriel chuckled, watching the shadows twirling in the air around Sky's head. "I think you just made their day," he said with a grin. "They're always happy to spoil you, love."

"I…I just hope they re…realize that I have a…absolutely no place to wear all of this," she said with a laugh. "I don't want to look like a walking jewelry store every time I leave the house…"

Azriel chuckled, "Well, they do have a bit of a tendency to go overboard when it comes to their gifts. But I can't really blame them, they just want to make you happy." He leaned over and pressed a kiss to her cheek, his eyes twinkling with love. "And you deserve everything and more, love, even if it makes you look like a walking jewelry store every once in a while."

She melted into the kiss.

"I went a very different route for your gift," she told him drily, handing him a sole gift bag.

The first thing he pulled from it was a tin of tuna. 

The laughter was immediate. He couldn't help it. Deep belly laughter, his amusement apparent, warmth filling his chest. Azriel couldn't help but burst into laughter as he pulled the tin of tuna from the gift bag. "Is this for Hector or for me?" he asked, grinning from ear to ear.

"I did promise to buy you tuna," Sky gave back with a laugh. "I just thought it would set the tone for the second gift."

The second gift he pulled from the bag was a knitted sweater. Slits down the back for his wings...made out of thick and warm and soft black yarn.

Azriel's laughter faded into a gentle smile as he took in the knitted sweater. "Sky, is this..." He trailed off, fingers brushing the soft, warm fabric. "Did you make this?"

"I did promise to knit you a sweater too," she said simply. 

Azriel couldn't help but melt at her words, feeling his heart fill with warmth. "You remembered," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. "I can't believe you made this for me, sweetheart." He pulled Sky into a tight embrace, feeling her heart beat in sync with his. "It's perfect," he murmured, his voice muffled against her hair. "Just like you."

"I'm glad you like it," Sky said softly. "I know it's not as a King’s ransom in diamonds… but I wanted to give you something that was made with love."

Azriel pulled back slightly to look into her eyes, his expression softening even more. "It means so much more to me because you made it," he said, his voice tender. "I'll cherish it always, just like I cherish you. Though I must admit my present is going to pale in comparison to that egg sized sapphire too," he told her drily.

Sky laughed, leaning into Azriel's embrace. "Well, to be fair, it's hard to compete with a sapphire that size," she said with a grin. "But I'm sure whatever you got me is perfect, even if it's not worth a small fortune."

It kinda was though. Even though it didn't look that way…mostly because he had spent a good few weeks until he had found a stone that even had a chance to stand next to her eyes. An oval sapphire flanked by two diamonds...set in white gold.

Azriel handed her the last box, trying to appear nonchalant. "Here, open this one," he said, trying to hide his nervousness. "I hope you like it."

Sky carefully untied the silk ribbon wrapped around the box and lifted the lid, her eyes widening in awe as she took in the ring inside.

"Marry me," it burst out of him.They had already accepted a mating bond. A marriage would be nothing more than a couple of vows in front of a priestess. But he...he wanted...

Azriel's heart was racing as he watched Sky's reaction to the ring, hoping and praying that she felt the same way he did. "I know that we already have the mating bond," he said softly. "But I want more than that, sweetheart. I...I want everything."

These devastating eyes lifted, looking at him."I want to spend every day for the rest of my life by your side," he continued, his voice rough with emotion. "I want to wake up next to you every morning and fall asleep holding you every night. I want to build a life with you, a family with you." He took a deep breath, his eyes never leaving hers. "And I want to make it official, in every way possible. Will you marry me, Sky?"

"Yes," she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. "Yes, a hundred times yes. I want all of that too, and more. I want to spend the rest of my life with you, to be by your side every step of the way. I want to build a life together, a family together."

Quite frankly, Azriel thought that this Winter Solstice may be the best one he ever had, as she kissed him. 

"We could get started on making that family," Sky told him, biting her lips as she pulled back. "You know how High Fae fertility can be...could take us decades..."

Azriel's eyes widened at her words, a slow smile spreading across his face. "Are you saying what I think you're saying, love?" he asked, his voice low and raspy as he pulled her close.

Sky nodded, her expression shy and hopeful as she looked up at him. "I…I want to be a mother s…someday," she said softly. "And I can't think of anyone I'd rather have children with than you."

Azriel felt his heart melt at her words. He couldn't believe how lucky he was to have found someone who loved him as much as Sky did. "I want that too, love," he said, his voice rough with emotion. "Nothing would make me happier than to have a family with you."

[slytherinslut0]

SLYTHERINSLUT0’S KINKTOBER

october 11th. blaise - mirror sex, body worship.

KINKTOBER MASTERLIST. | 2024.

summary: writing this was detrimental to my health. blaise is a man. a MAN. you’re having a terrible day, your boyfriend knows what you need to make it better.

warnings: 18+ MDNI, SMUT, PIV, fingering, multiorgasm, teasing, begging, doggystyle, dirty talk, praise so much praise, body worship, soft dom blaise, pet names, the usual nasty shit you'll find this month.

"Yeah that's what I said...he didn't listen to me, though. Of course."

Parchment crinkled under the weight of your hand, quill scratching faintly as your boyfriends voice hummed in the background—an effortless drawl that filled the room like low music. You barely caught the words, caught up in the mechanical rhythm of  your writing—but that didn't stop him from droning on, stretched out like a relaxed cat on your bed—one leg bent, both hands tucked behind his head, his gaze lost somewhere in the ceiling's quiet expanse.

"And? What happened?" You asked, finally letting the quill drop, grimacing at the ink smudged across your fingers.

"Detention," he said, clearly amused, "cleaning rat barrels for a week."

You managed a smile, but it was small, fleeting—more like a shadow of the real thing. Blaise noticed, of course he did, but he let it linger undisturbed, as if waiting for the right moment to ask what was really wrong. His stories were always an offering, an attempt to pull you from the depths of a day that felt as heavy as the sky before a storm—which usually helped, but today, even he couldn't shake the weight entirely.

You rolled away from your desk, chair wheels creaking until you reached the mirror. There you were, reflected back at yourself—no makeup, hair half-tumbling from the ponytail you'd given up on hours ago, the lines under your eyes telling a story you didn't want to read. You sighed, lifting a hand to touch the flyaway strands, knowing it wouldn't help. You were a bloody disaster.

"What're you lookin' at, baby?" Blaise was behind you before you even realized it, his warmth filling the space behind your chair, his arms snaking around your waist with the same natural ease as breathing. "Did I tell you you look beautiful today?"

You exhaled as he rested his chin on your shoulder, his eyes meeting yours in the glass—

"Don't lie, Blaise," you muttered, the exhaustion making your voice heavier than it should've been. "I look a mess."

"Not a lie," he whispered back, his lips so close you could almost taste the mint on his tongue. His hand lifted, gently tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear before trailing down the side of your face like it was something sacred, like you weren't just a tired girl with too many thoughts. "You're always beautiful...so, so beautiful."

The heat from his words bloomed in your chest, a slow burn, even as the weight of the day pressed heavier. It felt as though the reflection was mocking you—this version of yourself you could barely recognize, worn down by everything that had gone wrong.

"I can tell when something's bothering you," he pressed on, his voice drawing you back, patient and unhurried. His fingers made soft circles on your stomach, waiting, coaxing. "Wanna tell me?"

"Nothing's bothering me...I just.." you shook your head, the words coming out on a breath, too small to carry the weight of what you meant. "I just had a bloody terrible day."

He hummed, thumb grazing your skin. "How terrible?"

"The kind that makes you feel like the universe is against you," you whispered, gaze falling, unable to look at him while your voice cracked. "I'm sorry—I know you wanted to go out tonight, but I just—"

"Shh—hey, don't do that," he interrupted, his fingers tilting your chin, forcing your eyes back to his in the mirror. "I don't care about going out. I care about you. We don't need to be anywhere else. I've got everything I need right here, baby. Okay?"

Merlin—your heart clenched, the ache reminding you just how easy it was to fall in love with him—and how you managed to do so, all over again, every single day. Blaise always had this way of making you feel like the center of the world, even on days when you felt like you were disappearing from it.

A small, trembling smile ghosted across your lips, and you nodded. "Okay."

"Yeah?" He nudged your chin gently, brushing more stray hair from your face—he never once took his fucking eyes off of you. "You're so fucking beautiful, babygirl...how are you all mine..."

A sigh escaped your lips as his fingers moved to massage your shoulders, his lips finding their way back to the curve of your neck, pressing slow, deliberate kisses along your skin. The tension in your body began to melt, replaced by something warmer, softer.

"Messy hair, no makeup...you're a fucking dream," he whispered. "Every morning I wake up...and I still can't believe..." his hands trailed down your arms, a slow blaze of fire, grazing over your belly before they curved up your chest. "...that all of this...is all for me..."

Your head tipped back, a soft whimper slipping from your lips as he pressed himself closer. One of his hands slid back up, fingers curling around the base of your throat, his thumb stroking the side of your neck. He groaned softly against your temple, other hand still pawing at your chest.

"Look at you," he rasped as his eyes met yours again in the mirror. You could feel his gaze tracing the outline of his hand wrapped around your throat. "Tell me you know you're beautiful."

Your heart was racing, breaths coming in shallow bursts as the intensity of his touch, his words, filled the room. He was crowding over you, pressed against the back of your chair, his hands insistent but not frantic, like he had all the time in the world—

"I know," you whispered. "You tell me every day..."

He hummed, the sound vibrating in his throat. "Mhm…and I'll keep telling you…because I don't think you get it yet...just how truly beautiful you are…”

Your lashes fluttered, eyes heavy beneath the weight of his gaze as his fingers moved lower, the buttons of your shirt parting effortlessly, baring the delicate lace underneath.

His jaw clenched, hunger flickering behind his eyes, his touch roughening with it. “…and just how lucky I am... to get to touch you like this."

Your head lolled back onto his shoulder, your back arched, baring yourself to him with a shivering sigh. His hand around your throat tightened, not too much, just enough to remind you he held you, that in this moment —this skin—belonged to him.

His other hand moved across your chest, teasing your nipples through the lacy fabric, kneading, coaxing your heart to race under his palm.

"I'm a better man because of you," he whispered, lips ghosting over the pulse at your neck. “...because you make me want to be."

Your whimper came unbidden, warmth flooding your veins as his eyes never left yours—devouring you through the glass. This wasn't just about touch. It was something Blaise always made sure you felt in this relationship, the thing tethered between you—the fulfilment of a need to be seen and a need to be known.

"Look at you." His lips tilted in a breathy smile, dripping with reverence, with something sacred as his hand roved over your chest, taking his time. "Perfect. So fucking perfect."

Both big hands fell to massage your tits now and a small, broken sound escaped you—helpless against the onslaught, your body betraying your efforts at control. You closed your eyes, biting your lip to stem the flood, but it was useless. Blaise, like this, was unrelenting, determined to make you remember this moment, every whisper, every touch. His voice was an echo you'd hear in your dreams.

"Blaise..." his name fell from your lips in a breathless whisper. “Gods.”

"Open those pretty eyes for me, babygirl..." he purred  as his teeth grazed the curve of your neck. You obeyed with a shiver—your reflection pure chaos — a mess of need and want, heat pooling low in your belly, an ache between your legs you couldn't ignore. Blaise hummed. "I want you to watch yourself. I want you to see what I see."

His hands slid lower, skimming the curve of your hips and settling on your thighs. You watched as he moved with deliberation, savouring the way your skin shivered beneath his touch. He shifted your legs wider, pushing the fabric of your skirt higher until it bunched around your waist. His eyes darkened, and for a moment, you weren't sure who was falling apart faster—him or you.

"Fuck," you moaned, barely holding onto the sound, feeling it slip past your lips like a breath. "Blaise.."

With a satisfied smile, his eyes flicked to yours and you noted the way his breathing shallowed—admired the way his fingers slipped along the insides of your thighs, tracing the soft skin without haste. The sensation made your breath hitch, and you bit down on your lip, fighting to keep your eyes open.

A low groan rumbled from deep in his chest as he pushed your skirt up further, exposing your underwear in the reflection.

"That's my girl,” he murmured, his voice thick with adoration. "These thighs...mm, fuck...so soft.."

His fingers dragged back down, agonizingly slow, tracing your thighs again.

You shuddered. You knew just how needy you sounded but gods—"Blaise, please..."

Blaise knew too, and of course he just chuckled, lips grazing the curve of your shoulder, his teeth catching on the fabric there. The nip was gentle at first, but just enough to make you gasp, your hips jerking reflexively—and you watched his eyes flash, lashes fluttering—

"Fuck...these hips," now he was growling, his nails biting into your skin. "The way you roll them...torture, pure torture... just to make me give you what you want..."

Your breath hitched again. You were a squirming mess, now—each fucking word a slow burn that licked at every nerve.

"Is that so bad?" You whispered, though the words barely left your mouth before a soft moan interrupted them. "Making you…give me what I want...?"

His laugh was rougher this time, his breath searing hot against your ear. One hand moved again, fingers teasing the edge of your underwear—and you realized you were holding your fucking breath—meeting his gaze in the mirror, wide and wanting, the tension between you thick enough to choke on.

"Not so bad...when I want to give it to you..." his fingers danced over your clothed cunt—light, taunting, threatening to give you everything you craved but holding just shy of it. Your hips rolled again, involuntarily. "But absolutely disastrous," his fingers traced higher, the ache of wanting made your pulse thunder. "...when I'm trying to make you wait."

You whimpered, snuffing a groan in your throat, and he smiled—watching the effect, his jaw falling open when he grazed over your clit through the fabric and you moaned loud—shameless.

"Gods—Blaise, please—" you were so fucking desperate now. Heat scorching your skin. Eyes squeezed shut. He was going to kill you, you were sure of it. “No more teasing—“

"Eyes open." He husked, bringing one hand back up to cup your jaw. "You close them and I'll stop. Keep being good for me, baby..."

You whinged—meeting his dark eyes in the mirror, lust blown pupils swallowing his irises. You watched yourself—his arms curled around you, strong and firm—long, slender fingers finally, fucking finally, giving you what you want—slipping under your underwear, fingertips kissing the sensitive lips of your throbbing cunt.

"Good girl...so good for me..." he muttered, slicking a single digit between your folds, grazing your clit. That did it—blinded with relief, you whinged, moaning deep in your chest. "Oh fuck, you're so wet...you need this, don't you, baby..."

"Yes—Gods—" you held his eyes in the mirror, hips jerking toward his touch. "Need it...need you..."

"So sensitive f'me..." he whispered in your ear, brushing the bundle of nerves again, earning another shuddered groan. He kissed at your jaw. "I'll never get tired of hearing you say that...that you need me..."

"Fuck—I do—always—" the words bled out, unfiltered. "Always need you."

Blaise shuddered, you could feel his hips rocking gently against the back of the chair as his fingers found your clit, indefinitely this time, and began drawing tight, frantic circles over it. Your back crested, your head falling back just slightly before you remembered what he said and returned your gaze to his in the mirror—he was watching you, body crowding yours like he was preparing a meal—and you spread your legs wider, noting the entire mess he'd made of you in minutes.

"Beautiful," he cooed, jaw tensing as you gripped his wrist—one hand shifting to grope your chest. "Messy girl...m'dying to get inside you..."

You cried out, your pussy clenching, craving to be filled by him. "Blaise—baby—please..."

Wetness soaked your thighs—coated his fingers as he dipped lower and pushed two inside you, crooking them deep. The reaction was involuntary—you cried out, ground your hips into his palm, fucking yourself on his digits, wanting—no, needing more. He groaned, squeezing your breast harder than you're sure he'd intended—teeth sinking into your shoulder in a futile attempt to compose himself.

"Fucking hell—that's it, baby—" his thumb twirled your clit, fingers driving deep—bliss burned your eyes, and you moaned. "Soaked and still so fucking tight...fuck.."

"M'gonna—I need you—" you were babbling, lost in sensation, coherent thoughts banished to the perimeters of your mind. "Inside—pleasepleaseplease—need you—"

"Cum first," his hand on your breast slipped up, tangling through your hair and nudging your face toward his—his lips found yours, soft and tender. "Wanna' make you feel good..."

Pleasure flooded you, muscles collapsing as you succumbed to it—Blaise kissed you again, holding you there, tongue delving into your mouth while he rubbed your swollen nub faster, pumped his fingers deeper.

"I...oh, Gods—already feel s'good..." you moaned into him, and he jerked you harder to his body, tongue massaging yours while his plush lips worked over your mouth. "Mm—fuck—s'good—"

He groaned. "Mhm—cum for me."

And then you did—every nerve in your body ignited at once. The obscene, wet sounds of him pumping his fingers into you filled the room, a rhythm that matched the frantic pulse in your ears. His mouth smothered the desperate cries of pleasure that fought to break free as your body convulsed, writhing against him. Your hips bucked, helplessly seeking more, fingers digging into his wrist like anchors as your entire world spun wildly out of control. He was both your rock and your undoing—keeping you tethered to earth while hurling you into the stars.

It felt like you were suspended in that ecstasy forever, the air leaving your lungs in shattered gasps, until, at last, your breathing found its rhythm again. Slowly, he withdrew his fingers, his own breath shaky, eyes dark with hunger. He brought his slick-coated fingers to your lips, pressing them past, and you groaned as you took him in, suckling greedily.

"You like that?" His voice was a low rumble, vibrating against your spine. You moaned in response, your tongue swirling around his digits, eyes fluttering shut at the taste of yourself. His other hand moved, urgently, his belt coming undone and echoing through the room as he freed himself, groaning, "Fuck."

Blaise had lost his composure completely—you didn't need to look at him to know it. In an instant, you were on your feet, his hands pulling you up as he kicked your chair out of the way, rolling into the wall with a thud. You turned your head to look at it but his lips crashed into yours, both hands cradling your face as he sank to his knees, dragging you down with him. The hardwood floor beneath you was cold, but his touch—his touch was a wildfire, scorching every inch of your skin, setting your blood to boil.

You moved instinctively and gasped as your fingers found him, warm and hard in your palm, twitching at your touch. He growled low in his throat, his hips jerking involuntarily as you stroked him, kneeling together on the floor, breaths mingling in the heated space between you. The moment stretched, unbearably tense, until with a swift motion, he spun you around, turning you to face the mirror.

His hands were everywhere—on your hips, sliding down your thighs, grazing the curve of your waist—pulling your skirt higher as he met your eyes over your shoulder in the reflection—

"Look at yourself," his fingers tightened on your hips, guiding you back against him, his length slicking between your thighs, grazing against your heat. "See what you do to me."

You gasped, melting into him, tightening your thighs around his shaft, fighting to keep your eyes on his in the mirror. Blaise exhaled, cranking your throat to the side and snatching a breast before biting the meat of your shoulder, cock pulsing when you whinged in delighted pain.

"Blaise—fuck—please..." your cunt clenched with anticipation, heat at your cheeks as you watched yourself in the mirror, desperately trying to tip your hips so he'd slide in. "Please, fuck me—"

Your voice was ruined. Music to his ears. Blaise could never deny that begging.

"Shit, baby..." he pressed in, leaning you forward until you were resting on your elbows in front of the mirror—seething as his girth stretched you open—splitting you wide in a way that made your eyes roll. He pulsed at your entrance, taking his time, letting you bask in the drag of your walls along his swollen length. In his reflection, his were lips parted, chest working with broken breath. "So goddamn tight..."

"Fuck," you moaned, unbridled, his hands bruising your hips as he picked up the pace. "Yes—mm—Gods, yes—"

The power of his thrusts stole your breath, quaked your bones, your cries of pleasure hiccuped by the rapid strokes of his hips. Blaise was the most patient man you'd ever met, until he wasn't. He groaned, his eyes trained on your ass, skin smacking skin with loud slaps—you were captivated, unable to think or speak or do anything other than watch—fire stoked by the sheer eroticism of watching him fuck your pussy. A hard, vicious plunge—you shrieked, and you could see him smirk to himself before gracing your ass with a soft smack, piercing your cervix.

"Sexy little thing. All fucking mine." He wound your hair in his fist, popping your neck back to hunch over you. "You like that, hm? Watching yourself get fucked?"

You whimpered, neck aching with the force of his grip, nails digging into your palms as he drilled you. The switch in his demeanour was dizzying. His dick was hollowing you out, rending you wide—you could hardly focus on his words—

"Yes!" You managed. "Fuck—yes—"

He groaned, fucking faster—his gaze ravaged you, wandering over every inch of your reflection before stopping at your jiggling chest. His hand slipped down from your hair to grasp a breast—squeezing and kneading the soft flesh in his huge palm, his other hand snaking down around your thigh to swirl over your clit, and you choked—a noise wrenched from your lungs far louder than you'd have liked.

"Fuck—fuck—" his hips moved erratically. He was getting close. So were you. "Tight—squeeze me s'good—"

You whinged. He swirled his fingers faster. "Blaise—m'gonna—cum—"

It descended upon you—the promise of oblivion—as you found one breath, another breath, and then found yourself in the mirror, skin gleaming, expression wrought with pleasure, entire body shaking with the pistoning of your boyfriends hips.

His eyes were still on yours, reverence inside them, worship.

He grunted. "Yes—fuck, cum on my cock, baby—let me feel you—"

It was a command that shattered all thought, a primal cry of ecstasy that ripped through you, overtaking every nerve, every vein, every muscle in your body. Your limbs trembled, thighs shaking as the pleasure coursed through you, molten, burning under your skin. You were less than halfway cognizant of what was leaving your mouth—barely picking up on your boyfriends groans and moans in your ear as you squeezed and milked his cock through your climax, fucking you deep until he couldn't take it anymore and erupted as well—pouring his cum into you, rolling his hips until he was empty.

Swallowing hard, you collapsed onto the floor, your chest heaving as he pulled out, leaving you breathless and trembling. His hands, still warm from the heat of your skin, gently held your arm as he sank down beside you. Without a word, he tugged you against his chest, the steady rise and fall of his breathing a calming rhythm against your back. His fingers threaded softly through your hair, untangling the remnants of tension as the two of you lay there, catching your breath.

After a few moments, he leaned in, pressing a kiss to your temple, the touch so tender it made you melt all over again. You tilted your head to meet his gaze, a soft smile curving your lips, all the stress that had plagued you earlier dissipating into nothing.

"Maybe I should have bad days more often." You smiled through an exhale.

"If this is what it takes to fix them," he murmured with a smirk, his voice deep and gravelly from exertion, "then I'm more than willing to be your remedy, anytime."

You hummed, a huff of a laugh slipping out as you traced lazy shapes on his chest—inhaling his scent with each breath. You loved this man. Loved that he never failed to make you feel so goddamn beautiful, so special, so needed.

"Seriously though," you whispered after a while, your cheek pressed to his chest, "thank you. For this. For knowing exactly what I needed."

His fingers stilled in your hair, a quiet hum of understanding in his throat.

"I always know what you need, baby," he said, his voice soft, filled with something more than just desire, something warmer. "And I'll always be here to give it to you."

[queenpiranhadon]

HII you commented on my post :’) 🎀

can I request pro hero bakugou x pro hero reader where reader usually pick up their kid(s) from daycare alone since BK is busy and usually gets home late:( and that kinda made their kid(s) upset and ignore their dad at home and cry really loud in front of reader secretly. So like reader came up with an idea to surprise the kid(s) and told BK to change his schedule or else reader will whoop his ass. So like the next day BK and reader went to daycare together and instead of reader standing behind the glass door it’s BK and that made their kid(s) go crazy and jumpy 🥺 thank you 💗

Idk I was watching this reel and got a lil inspired ~ https://www.instagram.com/jaxon.trevor/reel/CsTuZLUofpg/?igsh=MTNuZHY3ZDEwMnNoZA==

A/N: HIII SORRY THIS TOOK ME A WHILE AHAHAH BUT I LOVED WRITING THIS IT WAS SO CUTEEE Here's the masterlist!

Warning(s): Mild cursing, f!reader, your kids love you, pre-established relationship (you two are married), you have twins, Katsuki loves you, just fluffy fluff with like the mildest angst if you squint really hard.

Pairing(s): Bakugou Katsuki x Reader

•─────•°•❀•°•──── ᴅᴀʏᴄᴀʀᴇ ────•°•☁︎•°•────•

It's late. You were in the kitchen, cleaning up from dinner, as your husband finally relaxes in your shared bedroom after a long patrol. It was always like this, Katsuki getting home late, and you were left to take care of your two children in the meantime.

You didn't blame him, of course, you knew how hard he worked, given that he was the number 2 pro hero and with that came a lot of responsibilities. You yourself were number 5, which meant you also had a lot of missions, but thankfully since you ran your own agency, you could manage your schedules easier to be able to pick up your kids from daycare every day.

However, your twins, Kasumi and Akio, weren't as understanding as you were when it came to your husband's attendance at home.

You understood their pain, but tried to keep an open mind for the sake of your family. However, after a two month long mission that Katsuki was sent on, he had consequently missed your birthday, something that might've upset you slightly, but you didn't think it was a big deal.

The twins, however did. They were furious at this point, sobbing as they clung onto your shirt, snot and tears soaking the fabric, but you didn't mind, rubbing their backs comfortingly. You thought it was sweet, how much they cared, but they little voice in the back of your head agreed with them, if only a little. Katsuki was never at home anymore, and to be honest, you missed him.

When he came back, you welcomed him with open arms, but the twins had just peaked their heads out of their rooms before retreating back, as if this was a normal occurrence.

You sigh, and look back at Katsuki, who had a heartbroken expression on his face.

Grabbing his hand, you lead him to your shared bedroom, squeezing his hand softly and getting ready for bed.

Katsuki gets changed but only sits on the bed, and you lie down next to him.

"What's on your mind, love?"

He grunts and looks away, conflicted before looking back at you.

"Do...do the twins hate me?" he mutters, and you frown softly.

"No...they don't hate you Kats, they just...wish you were around more."

Your husband frowns, and you can see the guilt swimming in the depths of his vermillion eyes.

"Maybe you can pick them up from daycare tomorrow?" You suggest, as Katsuki still hasn't said a word.

Katsuki frowns. "But my schedule-"

"Katsuki Bakugou if you do not pick up your children from school tomorrow then I'm sleeping on the couch for a month." You retort back before he can finish.

Your husband's eyes widen, realizing that you've got him stuck. If it really came down to it, he would gladly sleep on the couch if you wanted him to - but you knew he loved you too much to subject you to the same fate.

"Damn it, fine. Don't you dare threaten me like that again, woman." he grumbles and you smile up at him victoriously.

"Awww you love me." you coo, and you kiss his arm softly before tugging him gently to join you under the covers.

Katsuki watches you drift away to sleep, cheek half smushed against his bare chest and he can't help the dorky smile that stretched across his face.

He loved you so, so much. More than you would ever know.

Encircling his strong arms around you, he hold you close, making a mental note to take you out for a nice date tomorrow as well, before drifting off to sleep as well.

When he wakes, you're gone, with a note on the fridge that says that you left to drop the kids off and that you'd be back after work. He chuckles, and decides to clean up the house in the meantime.

He can't remember the last time he had a day off, it felt weird, to be honest. He felt restless, and so he did everything and anything to keep himself occupied while taking a majority of the burden you had off your shoulders.

Once the house was clean, he rifled through your closet, picking out the sundress he loved - accentuating your curves while the color brought out everything he loved about you, which was well, everything.

When you return home, Katsuki's getting changed into some nice clothes, surprising you as he tells you to go shower and get ready while he picks up the kids.

You're most definitely surprised, wondering where all of this is coming from, but you can't say you're upset about him, giggling softly and deciding to play along, feeling your heart warm as you hear the car door shut.

Katsuki parks the car in the parking lot, and approaches the building, giddy but slightly nervous at the same time. What if the kids still hated him? Would he be able to make things better?

However all his worried disappeared the moment he saw his kids' overjoyed faces at seeing him.

Their eyes brighten and they scream excitedly, bolting towards him with speed that was almost inhuman, tackling him and almost knocking him down.

"DADDY!!!!!" Kasumi squealing, leaping up and attaching herself to his leg.

Akio looks up at him, agape. "You-you're actually here?!"

Katsuki chuckles and ruffles his son's hair lovingly."Yeah, I am, bud. M'sorry I couldn't pick ya up sooner...Ya know how hero work is."

The kids nod, hugging him tightly as his hefts them up to sit on either of his hips.

"C'mon you two. We're gonna go surprise yer mama when he get home, got it? We'll take out her somewhere nice."

The twins look at each other micheviously and nod vigorously. "Daddy's in looooove" they sing, giggling uncontrollably.

Katsuki chuckles and can't help but feel his heart flutter at the thought of you.

"Yeah, Daddy's in love all right."

[pretzel-box]

I love you writing! Could you do something with jealous Sebastian?

A joke too much

words: 1,3k

status: non-proof read

tags: established relationship, sebastian is jealous, random nameless guy to fill in for the plot, comfort & bad diving suit jokes

sebastian might be a bit ooc but that's nothing new lol

Despite all the horrible things that had happened so far in the drastic depths of the Hadal Blackside, you were more certain than ever that hardships are easier to overcome with a group of co-workers—or, in this case, familiar victims of the expendable project that Urbanshade had set up to retrieve a simple crystal.

One of those people was a fellow inmate who shared a punishment similar to yours, which made it easier to bond over the shared misery. Their sarcastic way of lightening up every dark situation was a refreshing change of pace amid all the horrors and violence that usually surrounded your group.

"I would have worked harder on my bikini body if I knew I’d end up here," the fellow prisoner joked, gesturing to the basic diving suit Urbanshade had issued as minimal equipment. The ill-fitting suit clung awkwardly to his frame, adding a touch of absurdity to an otherwise grim situation.

"Ah yes, these diving suits definitely highlight all the right curves," you hummed back in amusement, trying to suppress a grin.

The lighthearted banter continued as you both navigated the dim, foreboding corridors. The small, wholesome moments of connection were a welcome reprieve from the relentless tension. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to keep the growing dread at bay, if only for a little while.

Eventually, you found yourselves standing before Sebastian's signature vent—a crude entrance that had become all too familiar. With a quick push, the piece of metal flew across the dark floor, clattering noisily. From the other side, Sebastian's disinterested voice echoed in the narrow passage.

"Welcome back, you... and you," he muttered, his tone flat as his ear fins twitched slightly, betraying his annoyance. His gaze flicked to the person next to you, clearly sizing them up. "Another day, another poor selection of team members, huh? Shame I don’t sell good ones either."

His joke, dripping with sarcasm, didn’t go unnoticed, but it didn’t have the desired effect either. You could see the faint lines of irritation on his face when he noticed your unimpressed expression. His usual wit seemed to fall flat in the current circumstances, and even he seemed to sense it.

"Really, Sebastian?" you asked, raising an eyebrow at him. Your new companion stifled a chuckle, but you could tell they were a bit wary of the sea-serpent’s mood.

Sebastian sighed, leaning back slightly as if trying to shake off the tension. "What can I say? The company down here isn’t exactly what I’d call inspiring," he retorted, though there was a hint of resignation in his voice. He glanced between you and your new friend, his irritation giving way to something softer, almost like concern and you didn't missed the way his tail moved, showing how bothered he actually is without speaking it out loud.

“Seriously, who thought it was a good idea to send us down here with nothing but these glorified wetsuits?” Your team mate joked trying to get the comfortable atmosphere from earlier back by continuing his joke, shaking his head in disbelief. “If I knew I’d be stuck in a metal box at the bottom of the ocean, I might’ve packed something a little more comfortable.”

You chuckled, trying to ease the palpable tension. “At least you’re making it work,” you said, playfully nudging him with your foot.

Sebastian’s ear fins twitched at the sound of your laughter, and own claw-like fingers digged themself uncomfortably into his own palm. Without a care, he spoke, his voice carrying a sharp edge. “Some of us don’t have the luxury of laughing at this situation.”

Your friend raised an eyebrow, clearly picking up on Sebastian’s mood. He pushed off the wall and took a step closer to you, a lighthearted smile still on his face. “Hey, we’re all just trying to make the best of it, right? No harm in keeping things a little less... bleak.”

Sebastian finally faced him directly, his eyes locking onto your friend with an intensity that made the room feel even smaller. “If you’re so focused on keeping things light, maybe you should find somewhere else to do it.”

The words were laced with a possessiveness that took both you and your friend by surprise. The room fell into a heavy silence as Sebastian’s gaze shifted to you, his expression unreadable. “Or is this how you’d rather spend your time?”

You swallowed hard, sensing the unspoken conflict. “Sebastian, we’re all stuck in this together. We don’t have to turn on each other.”

He let out a bitter laugh, shaking his head. “Stuck together, sure. But don’t pretend like this is just another day at the office. We’re not exactly a team, are we?”

Your friend cleared his throat awkwardly, realizing he was caught in the middle of something much deeper than he’d anticipated. “Look, maybe I should just... give you two some space,” he suggested, glancing between you and Sebastian.

Before you could respond, Sebastian stood up and slithered across the room, positioning himself between you and your friend, his tall frame blocking the view. “Yeah, maybe you should,” he said, his tone final, leaving no room for argument.

The air in the room was thick with tension as your friend hesitated, then gave a small nod. “Right. I’ll, uh, catch up with you later,” he mumbled before slipping out of the room by crawling back throug the vent behind him.

Once the two of you were alone, Sebastian didn’t move, standing with his back to you, his hands clenched into fists at his sides. You could feel the cold emanating from his body, but there was also something else—a vulnerability he rarely showed.

“Sebastian,” you started softly, reaching out to touch his arm. “What’s going on? Why are you acting like this?”

He didn’t pull away, but he didn’t turn around either. His voice was low when he finally spoke. “Because I’m tired of watching someone else take care of you when I’ve been the one keeping you alive all this time.”

His words hit you like a wave, and you suddenly understood the depth of his jealousy. It wasn’t just about the other guy—it was about everything you’d been through together, everything he’d done to protect you. He was scared of losing you, of not being enough and being replaced with someone you just met.

You stood up and stepped closer, wrapping your arms around his waist from behind, resting your head against his back. “I know, Sebastian. I know you’ve always been there for me. And I’m grateful for that. But you don’t have to do it alone.”

He sighed, his shoulders slumping as some of the tension drained from his body. Slowly, he turned in your arms, his cool hands resting on your shoulders as he looked down at you, his expression softening. “I just... I can’t lose you,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper.

You reached up, brushing a strand of hair from his face. “You’re not going to lose me. I’m right here.”

Sebastian’s gaze searched yours, and after a moment, he pulled you closer, wrapping his arms and tail around you in a protective embrace. The coldness of his body was no longer unsettling; instead, it was a familiar comfort.

For a while, you just stood there, holding each other in the quiet of the room, the earlier tension dissolving into a peaceful silence. Finally, Sebastian pulled back slightly, resting his forehead against yours. “I’m sorry,” he murmured, his breath cool against your skin. “I didn’t mean to get so... possessive.”

You smiled gently, your hands resting on his chest. “It’s okay. Just... remember that we’re in this together. Both of us.“

Sebastian nodded, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "Thank you, Sweetheart."

[lady-buggerinton]

My Top Five Polin Scenes in Part One (and why!)

My darling gossipers, so far this show is making literally all of my hopeless romantic dreams for this couple come true and who knows what kind of angst and drama were in for in part two, so before things gets too real I just wanted to go into (too much) depth on my favorite scenes and a few swoon-worthy details from part one! *whips reigns on carriage* shall we?

5. Drawing Room Lesson/Journal

Pen's brain: TOUCH ALERT! HIS HAND IS ON MY BACK.

This scene is so best friend coded with the way they are bantering and flirting the whole time. There's an adorable contrast between Penelope's fear of being discovered and Colin being like it's chill!(when in fact it is not Chill because they get interrupted after 5 minutes of gazing into each others eyes)

He just clearly wanted to be completely alone and behind closed doors platonically with his very beautiful friend (who looks like an angel in this scene) to pretend they are courting. Nothing suspicious about that!

I love how he's so into the lesson to the point that he has set out the lemonade as a prop and brought her to Bridgerton house in the first place specifically because she said it was where she was most comfortable (previously, but he's doing his best, and probably hoping she will become comfortable again, ouch)

Colin being the "dashing suitor" for her to flirt with (loser) and when she's resistant to fake flirting with him he hits her with the, "you don't have to be embarrassed, you know me!" trying to put her at ease. And he succeeds! Penelope is so comfortable during this scene when she's opening up about how it's hard for her to get her personality across, it's so sweet and honest.

And this is when the ROMANCING really starts, I love how it's Penelope who takes the lead here. mostly by accident, but the poor man is still left in shambles.

I do kind of wish for this scene they had gone with a more back and forth flirting moment, and seen them both get a little taste of how overtly flirting with each other would feel rather than her little poetic moment, but it was sweet to see her expose a corner of her feelings for him and watching him get a tad flustered at the compliment.

Ok, while it was rather uncool of her to read his journal, I love this part so much. Because I am no better, I would 100 percent do this given the chance. Her examining the space where he spends time, her running her hand over his pirate coat, (who wouldn't) the quiet yearning of that action. As a snoop myself, this was wish fulfillment.

Penelope being hit with a confusing mix of jealousy and intrigue by the contents of the journal entry, the way she stops reading for just a second and then gives in and devours his writing, not being able to hold back from getting inside his head. Don't think about how she probably missed his letters.

Colin's anger here is warranted, and I liked how he didn't come across as aggro-angry Colin from the books but is still justifiably upset that his privacy has been violated. He is likely aware that there are certain DETAILS he wouldn't want her to be reading, like how he's a lonely lonely sad little man trying to be rakish and roguish because his beautiful platonic friend isn't writing him back and encouraging him like she usually does.

Can I just mention that bandaging a wound is an excellent trope and it's such a good romancing vehicle: the care, the tenderness, the touching! the GRUMPINESS! But my favorite thing about the wound bandaging is his reaction to her complimenting his work, of which he hasn't shown ANYONE. He's just so shocked that she likes it, and clearly starved for her encouragement/anyone to be interested in his travels.

I think its also worth noting that this is THE moment that Colin thinks back to when he's considering activating his chaos tendencies by rolling up to the red ball to interrupt her proposal, so I'm gonna interpret that as him recalling his first realization/admittance to himself that he has feelings for her beyond friendship.

It wouldn't surprise me since it is after this moment that we see the hints of jealousy start to manifest at the full moon ball (looking for her, asking her if she likes a suitor, he's not subtle with it). Can't blame him, he was just touched with intimacy and care, and told his creative outlet is well-written, he is being ROMANCED to the max and he can't handle it.

We also have our first "please" as Pen asks to help, and as we will see, these two can't say no to each other once the magic word is spoken! I hope this theme makes a comeback in part two (please please please)

4. Market Scene

ok, besides a semi-silly looking wig on Colin (reshoots) this scene is first of all, so beautiful.

SHE IS SO FINE IN THIS SCENE I CAN'T EVEN THINK. She looks like a preraphaelite painting and I'm gnawing at the bars of my enclosure.

I literally kept saying "wow" out loud. It actually makes the scene very silly to me because she keeps talking about how she'll never snag a husband and I'm over here on one knee begging for a chance.

If Penelope has been Colin's cheerleader and #1 supporter for their whole friendship, this is where that flips. This scene is all about Pen feeling dejected about her prospects and Colin trying to lift her spirits -basically by saying she doesn't need to work on anything because he already likes her so much without her doing anything but I digress!

There is nothing hotter than your crush talking about a shared memory! Literally nothing! You can see her absolutely light up here when he talks about their first meeting like "I can't believe he remembered" and "Shit, I'm trying to not be in love" and it makes me ache for her.

I am very sad we didn't get a meet cute flashback (hello romcom!!) but this was the next best thing. He's also definitely still in Rake Mode with the way he is being charming and flirty, but there is a core of genuine feeling here as he is trying to get her find her confidence and be more like the non-self conscious children they once were. I believe a lot of the rift between them was directly because she had such strong feelings for him and couldn't just connect with him as friends due to the pedestal she put him on, this scene shows that without that as a barrier, they are able to connect much more naturally.

"Living for the estimation of others is a trap, once you break free the world opens up," he says, and he's starting to realize this idea but hasn't quite put it into practice. I think seeing Penelope struggling to be something she's not, just like he is, shows him how it's not working for either of them. This I think kickstarts his self-reflection and eventual rejection of external pressures later on, leaving him open to pursue other passions.

Ok but what I LOVE most in this scene is his subtle digging for information about her that she isn't forthcoming with. He asks her why she wants a husband and where she feels most comfortable, peppering her with questions and also giving her zero personal space. He's very curious about her and what is going on inside, but she's not exactly open with him at this point, giving short and simple answers.

She's genuinely not used to someone asking her this many questions about herself, receiving this kind of devoted attention, and she clearly doesn't know quite how to respond. In fact, the dynamic has always been reversed, where she was encouraging and inquiring about him, so this switch is just excellent. there have been little moments throughout the series where he asks about her and she always seems to deflect to talking more about him, so it's nice to see this shift.

Also fun detail, the grecian statues behind them are a little nod to the eros and psyche vibes of the scene as cupid is trying to find a match for his psyche, but is slowly beginning to fall for her, his curiosity the first step towards total downfall.

When he asks about Eloise is where Pen just completely shuts down and says she has to leave, and the "before we are noticed" with the little smile? I have fallen in love. She's clearly using that as an excuse to dodge the question, and it is almost an inside joke, sadly. As if she's saying "No one would believe you are courting me anyway haha". And yet he's clearly bummed she's leaving, he was having such a good time, and she leaves him hanging, wanting to know more. I also absolutely love the Rae side eye, lethal!

3. Candy Tent

Post-kiss insanity is on full display here. The way she beckons him with a sexy head tilt and he came running, the way his hands give away his nervousness and his eyes keep locking on her helplessly. Just FULL ON crush mode. The soft "How are you?" he missed her!

Also outfits are incredible here, the pearls in the hair, the painted vest, Colin inventing the color brown, it's a rococo dream. The plushy pink of the tent, the ambiance, everything is just in a word: sumptuous? never used that but it feels right here.

Pen's giddiness here is just adorable, she's experiencing blatant interest for the first time and I couldn't be happier for her. But someone else is very peeved, indeed. He's trying to play the part of supportive friend while also just kind of feeling a lot of "confounding feelings"

The way he is trying to be so casual and attempting to keep up his swagger, but his true feelings are showing through BAD kind of harkens back to how Pen would interact with Colin in s1 and 2, with barely contained affection and hope. The script has been FLIPPED and it feels so good!!

I literally squeal every time he asks her if she's formed an attachment to Debling, this is the shit I signed up for!! Her saying Debling is not "unpleasant to gaze upon" and watching Colin just completely glitch out with jealousy. He's like AND WHAT ABOUT ME! Must be frustrating to be the most eligible bachelor of the season, and yet your very beautiful crush friend is complementing another man on his looks. When your crush expresses interest in someone it can be truly insanity inducing, so I feel for him here.

Pen is oblivious completely, she doesn't think any of what she is saying is negatively affecting him, in fact she thinks this news will make him happy! His lessons worked, she didn't care about being perceived and it is having the desired affect! and yet, he's miserable. Mission accomplished unsuccessfully if you will.

He does ALMOST a good job of hiding his feelings, but if Pen were not completely convinced he couldn't have feelings for her, I think she would've picked up on the vibes here. He's way less enthusiastic about the lessons, and is giving fairly curt responses, when before he was yapping on about being yourself and such.

Then of course the blatant staring at her mouth, being the yearning sort of man he is and likely recalling their kiss in detail, reminder it's been at least a week since. She's romancing him without even trying. It also makes sense for "food motivated" Colin to have Penelope + cake equals critical override of his facial expressions and his literally standing there slack-jawed with lust.

His soft "good luck", when she leaves and the fact that he doesn't mean it AT ALL.

I've seen it talked about, but it makes a lot of sense that Penelope wasn't as affected by the kiss as he was. I'm sure she enjoyed it, but for her the kiss was an end (more on that later) and for him it was the moment he admitted his feelings (which were already growing slowly). so it makes sense the yearning is very colin-sided in this scene.

Apart from the yearning, it's also just sweet to see them in cahoots and discussing this development with Debling like its a little group project, and its the perfect scene to show Down Bad Colin, and I love it. She also clearly wants him to share with her in her success, still wanting to be close to him in any way she can, which if I think about too much I'll cry.

Bonus points for him eating the cake later on, such an intimate detail, he just wants to be close to her in any way he can. CRIMINAL! ARREST HIM!

2. First kiss/Dream Sequence

Ok I'm combining these scenes because they happen back to back and sort of like a mirror of each other, sue me. This first kiss scene is, as Whistledown says, RECKLESS. It's nonsensical, it's desperate, and it's beautiful.

This scene has only improved upon rewatches, it really has everything. Best kiss scene on Bridgerton and possibly in anything ever? no doubt no doubt?

The silly back and forth on the "You're not going to die" and the way she doesn't back down when he seems to get embarrassed, but instead says what? The Magic Word! "Please" she says, which of course is both of their activation word. His expressions here definitely mirror the book, where as soon as she asks him to kiss her, he's a bit taken aback by how much he realizes he wants to already.

This is such a low moment for Penelope, and it's one parts embarrassing and two parts brave of her to ask him to kiss her. In her position, she doesn't even have her pride left, so why not ask the boy you love to kiss you? nothing will come of it anyway, and he probably won't even do it, so why not ask? And what are friends for!

then the moment comes, and the music swells, as does the tension as he closes the distance between them, her shocked face and shallow breaths as she realizes its actually going to happen, the way he lifts her face to his with his hand under her chin. It's just pure romance. and this thing between them, this space that has never been crossed, is being crossed, and it feels insane. reckless. intimate!!

What I love is the shot that focuses on his face after they deepen the kiss, he's intent and confused by how good this feels, how little like kindness this is for him as soon as their lips touch. Like we will see later, he just kind of mind-blanks and forgets what is happening.

Whatever he thought they were has just crumbled with this kiss, and he leans his forehead against hers, no awkwardness when there is such tenderness. which is why he's so shook when she whispers "thank you", and rushes off. he's like "wait why is she thanking me? where am I? weren't we doing something here?" The hopeful strings as it focuses on his dumbstruck face, the earth literally shifting under his feet in that moment. UNREAL.

THE DREAM: I won't say a lot about the dream sequence but I just had to throw it in here because it shows how aligned they are romantically. They are both HUGE romantics, and he has orchestrated this sort of do-over kiss where he's really going for it and proving to her that he wants this too, he wants her. And she's enjoying herself, clearly, which we know is something Colin wants more than anything. It's a great way to show his inner feelings with the lack of an inner monologue that a book brings. And this is clearly a sort of parody of Bridgerton itself, or at least the books. It's over the top, a little silly, and exactly what we all want to see.

This dream also isn't just ripping off clothes, it's emotional, a key element is him expressing how he's been thinking about her, consumed by her. This kiss also isn't as innocent and patient as the first kiss, and it's full of Reciprocation, she can't stop thinking about him either. AND NEITHER CAN I!!!

Both of these kiss scenes also set up our contrasting feelings, where Pen views their first kiss as an end of a dream, a bittersweet act to finally let go off him, the dream of him. And then his dream shows the opposite, how she's ignited something in him that begins his dream of her, awake and asleep. Dream-swap! Also the hand on the wall behind her to catch her from hitting the wall. no comment.

1. Carriage Scene

Yeah like what can I say! It's incredible! I honestly have no idea how they can top this scene, but honestly if this is the best love scene they share in the season I am 10000% content. All of my little qualms with how they did the season melt away when I watch this scene because this was what was crucial to nail and they NAILED IT. TO THE WALL BABY. YAY.

And how did he gain access to the carriage (and Penelope)?? by saying please!! we love the magic word!! I do like the confession a lot, especially the "what if I did have feelings for you?" and the way he gets to his KNEES, a truly inspired moment.

How he completely dies inside when she says they are friends, and still accepts it with grace. There were SO many obstacles to him expressing his feelings to her this night, and he just red rovered each one, and we are all very grateful.

Something about this scene is just built different, I like a lot of the love scenes in the show, but this one has some kind of secret ingredient that we didn't know we'd been missing. Maybe its the location, the context, the way they are just grasping at each other desperately (which if you think about how Penelope thought this was a one time thing in the books and she wanted to make the most of it, actually don't think about that)

He's also just so sweet about it, he's not angry, or insistent, he's just honest and intent. and she's just bewildered and INTO IT.

The lightning is gorgeous, the way it looks like Penelope is catching on fire and glowing. the catharsis, the giving into passion. The way she smiles like her dreams are coming true (because they are) before he just completely attacks her. What else can I say but EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!

so many of the kisses are so tender and gentle, and they just build and build and build in intensity as they get lost in each other.

on a more horny note, so many moments here actually make me physically roll my eyes back in my head with how insane they make me. The desperate boob grab, the consensual nod, the way his hand slips under her dress, they were truly so insane for this. something tells me they knew I've waited literal years for this, so they knew they had to make it good.

Someone said Nicola should get an Emmy nom for moans, and she should, somehow they don't come across as cartoonish at all, and it doesn't take me out of the scene like some "noise making" does in these types of scenes. and for the record I'm not jealous at all, of either of them. in fact, no sooner did my head hit the pillow that I was met with complete and total darkness....not even a dream....

Like everything I could say has already been said, but it was so much better than I thought it was going to be, blew my expectations out of the water and DELIVERED. and DEVOURED. and RUINED ME. AND I AM VERY GRATEFUL.

Anyway that's all, I'm very afraid for part two so I needed some escapism, why am I already nostalgic for the good ol' times when Polin was happy for 6 minutes. thanks for reading! <3

[bamfkeeper]

Faded Restraint. | K.W

warnings: Smut 18+ MDNI | GN!reader | Unprotected sex | Teasing | Slight dirty talk | Light choking

a/n: Hi, I'm not dead. Sorry it's taken me a while to get back here. I have been distracted with other blogs and a bunch of stuff going on at home. The poll was half smut half fluff so I went with smut. I hope you enjoy, it's a little drabble, I have a long fic I've been working on for Kurt coming out soon. I'm trying to push to keep writing more often, it's just been hard rn. Sorry no pics or anything, I didn't feel like searching for any today. Unedited. ; wc: ~860

"Bitte...do not tease," Kurt muttered, looking up with lidded eyes as he watched you straddle him, the head of his cock barely poking at your entrance. He could feel the heat oozing out of you, your body fluttering against his cockhead as he struggled to keep his composure.

"You're so impatient Kurt, maybe I won't sink down...~" You teased him further as you spoke in a sultry tone, your hips gently rolling in a circular motion and allowing his head to feel how damp and tight you'd be, IF you sunk down. "Your cock would feel so, so good inside, but if you wanna talk, I suggest you really beg for it."

His eyes were dimly lit with desire in the dusky room, nearly rolling back as you continued to push him to his limits. It had been ages since you'd been such a temptation, the change was both thrilling and maddening for someone with a usually calm resolve. You had been so attentive to him lately, fulfilling his every request and leaving him breathless. He'd made sure to express his gratitude, always the perfect gentleman.

But now, oh now, you were testing his restraint.

Kurt's hands found purchase on your hips, his fingers pressing into your soft flesh. He possessed the strength to take control of the situation, but he resisted the urge. His voice came out as a husky whisper, "Bitte, bitte, you naughty minx...I ache to feel you." His words were a desperate plea, laced with need and want. As he spoke, his tail twitched and coiled, slowly wrapping itself around one of your ankles in a sensual caress.

He lifted himself just enough to press his lips against your sternum, the contact sending shivers down both your spines. With such a tender display, you finally relented, allowing your hips to sink down onto him. A sharp hiss escaped his lips, the sound muffled against your chest as you enveloped him completely. His arms instinctively tightened around your frame, pulling you flush against him as he reveled in the exquisite sensation of being fully sheathed within you.

Kurt held on tight as his hips gently bucked up against you, your slick walls tightening around him and squeezing every bit of arousal out of his cock. "Ach - you feel...so divine, Liebe" he whispered against your skin, drooling onto your chest as his body practically curled around you. He held you in his lap, feeling your weak, lazy movements to meet his shallow thrusts.

"You feel good too, baby," you breathed, your voice a soft, sensual whisper. Your hips undulated in a mesmerizing rhythm, each movement encouraging him to delve even deeper within you. As your bodies moved in perfect synchronization, his cock explored new depths, igniting sparks of pleasure in places you didn't even know existed.

Each increased thrust struck more sensitive spots inside you, causing your movements to grow increasingly urgent and desperate. A slow-burning fire of ecstasy began to build, its tendrils of electric bliss radiating through your body, shooting from your core to the very tips of your fingers and toes. It felt like pleasurable static, in a weird way, your digits flexing as you held onto him, trying to process the near-overwhelming sensations.

Kurt's tail slithered up the curve of your spine, dancing across your skin in a teasing manner. It coiled gently around your throat while his strong hands guided your hips with increased fervor. The air in the dark room was filled with wet, primal slapping of skin on skin, punctuated by the hot, heavy pants and groans escaping Kurt's lips. His warm breath caressed your chest, contrasting the otherwise chilly air of the room. This interplay of hot and cold sensations only served to heighten your awareness, making every touch, every movement, every breath feel hypersensitive against your skin.

"I'm going to come," Kurt warned between labored breaths, his body still pressed firmly against yours. He clung to you with a desperate intensity, as if he were a man deprived of affection for an eternity. The urgency of his desire drove him to shift his position. He moved from laying back on his ass to kneeling, all the while keeping you in his grasp and leveraging this new angle to increase the depth and force of his thrusts.

A sudden jolt of pleasure coursed through your body, causing you to gasp and tremble. Your eyes widened in surprise and ecstasy as Kurt's cock head finally found that sweet spot deep within you. His cock caressed and teased that elusive area, that tender bit of flesh that caused orgasms to shake through you.

The world behind your eyelids seemed to explode in a dazzling display of white-hot fireworks, your vision blurring as the overwhelming sensations threatened to consume you entirely. You found yourself crying out Kurt's name, desperation and bliss mingling in your voice.

You pleaded with him not to stop, your words tumbling out in a breathless litany of need. Your unrestrained reactions amused Kurt and a knowing smirk played across his lips as he leaned in close, his warm breath ghosting over the shell of your ear and his goatee tickled the skin of your cheek.

Playful triumph dominating his voice, he whispered lowly to you as he buried himself inside, "Now who's the one begging?"

Thanks for reading <3

*BAMF*

Dividers by @/adornedwithlight

[dceasesd]

why juni ba’s the boy wonder has my favorite jason characterization of any contemporary comic run: a needlessly in-depth analysis (pt.2)

alright here we are with part two! i promised i'd be quick with it, didn't i? you can find part one here. thank you guys so much for all the nice comments, i love yapping to a receptive audience :D

so, if you haven't read part one, i've been going over the common critques of ba's characterization of jason, the main three being:

the typical boiling down of jason's character to "the angry one"

his lack of strategy going into the fight with the demon is out-of-character

the neighbor's kid interaction

in the first part we went over #1, so now were gonna look at #2!

so, a problem people have with the story is how ba writes jason's reaction to the fight with rok (white tophat demon guy); damian and jason jump into the fight with seemingly no preparation at all, "underestimating" rok and paying the price for it.

i'll be honest, i do agree with this critque a bit. jason, if he is nothing else, is an obsessive planner and strategist; his back-up plans have back-up plans, and so on. we see this in plenty of his comic renditions, especially in lost days and under the red hood, where there are numerous examples of jason's competency. despite this, many comics fall into the habit of treating him as the "reckless, stupid robin", once again reducing his character to just his anger, usually to make the other robins more competent. looking at his actions in utrh & lost days, however, makes him jumping into a fight with no information uncharacteristic.

so, i sort of agree with this critque. HOWEVER. i will attempt to rationalize this part of ba's writing (because there are still parts of it i disagree with and it's more fun than just agreeing and moving on)

alright, to begin, lets look at these three different series; utrh (under the red hood), lost days, and the boy wonder. there is obviously many other examples out there, but i'm just gonna focus on these three for now because otherwise we'd be here all day.

in utrh & lost days, jason is driven by an obvious goal with an obvious end result; in utrh his goal is making bruce kill the joker & taking over gotham's underbelly, and in lost days it is getting skilled enough to complete the previously mentioned objective. i also chose to highlight the scene where jason puts a bomb underneath the batmobile in lost days, intending to kill bruce, because it's another very clear example of jason's strategic prowess. the whole bomb thing even happens before jason starts his murder training, making the feat even more impressive.

ba's jason, though, exists in a reality post-utrh; his plan failed and he must live with the consequences and implications of that truth. the recklessness that he presents in the fight in the boy wonder could be a representation of him grappling with this idea-- his supposed failure and banishment obviously must have had an effect on his psyche, and ba is attempting to portray that. ba plays a lot with the sadder side of jason's existence in the comic, so it's a plausibly theory, even if it is admittedly reaching a bit.

additionally, referring back to the earlier conversation about jason's anger in the first part of this discussion, i have the same sentiments about portrayal's of jason's recklessness. he can possess a strategic mind while still being reckless; it's his numerous paradoxical character traits that make him such an interesting character (at least to me). he's a mess of contradictions.

furthermore, while jason's actions are reckless and brash in this specific instance of the story, that does not mean that ba presents him as a reckless character. there's a difference between a reckless character and a character being reckless, and i feel like jason mostly falls into the latter. while maybe not super obvious, jason's tactical-ness is still present in ba's portrayal. this is represented through damian's responses and reactions to jason.

the fact that damian goes to jason for help in the first place is baffling. as a prideful kid desperate to prove himself, damian is not predisposed to asking for help, which is clearly presented in the first issue when he interacts with dick and babs.

damian's willingness to work with jason could be a result of him recognizing their similarities; he's more approachable than dick "golden boy" grayson. beyond that, he goes to jason because he needs a certain set of skills to help him catch the demon.

while jason is not able to fully present his usefulness at this task because the demon finds them first, he is clearly seen taking charge of the situation and dictating their plan to locate the demon, and damian actually defers to him. while brief, this instance represents that despite his recklessness in the battle against rok, ba still accurately presents jason's tactical skills, underscoring the intelligence he has that so many author's ignore or downplay.

i could go into how this plays into jason being a foil character to damian, but i'll save it for another day. sorry if this post is a little nonsensical, i did my best. i'll finish up my analysis in part 3! :)

part 1 / part 3

[kurokawaia]

❛ Crush ❜

Kurosaki Ichigo X Reader

| SFW | REQUEST? Yes | -> Headcannons

REQUEST; @r333y - Hi I saw your requests were open and I thought I would request some bleach headcanons (or anything really) if that's ok. Would you mind writing ichigo and/or ulquiorra (separately if you do both) having a crush on gn reader? Like how would he develop it, how would he act around the reader or how would he confess. Just some fluff for our boys. Thank you for considering, good day/night. ♡

a::note; i don't usually write for a 'gn' reader but i will try my best as i did state in my request rules that i only write for fem reader:3

M.LIST | BLEACH M.LIST |

How would Ichigo develop a crush?

I personally think that Ichigo would develop a crush on you regarding your abilities and strengths. Ichigo does meet important characters during conflicts and the start of his interest in you would be when you demonstrate your skill. Another one could be that you had a trait that stuck out to him, like there was something about you that didn't make sense to him, or that he wanted to know more about why you do the things that you do. I feel like mostly it would be how you fight, he feels interested in what you do and would like to know more about you because you are just so different to him.

Ichigo could see you in a vulnerable state, which could cause you to reveal your personal struggles. This reveals depth between your growing relationship and in turn, makes Ichigo feel more connected to you as you trust him.

Then it would lead to the both of you spending time with each other outside the battle field, experiencing everyday moments that show different sides of your personalities and discovering any shared interests or hobbies.

But there is one thing that I feel strongly about. I personally feel that Ichigo would need to have developed a crush on you specifically if he knows that you have the ability to look after yourself in battle. He wishes and craves that connection. Don't get me wrong, it's nice for him to save you and vise versa, but he needs to know that no matter what happens he will know that you are okay.

How would Ichigo act around the you?

To put it more precisely, when around that person, Ichigo will become a little edgy and out of his place. He may forget what he is about to say or may become a little clumsy. Although generally composed, Ichigo might blush or get flushed on his face if someone tries to tease him about his feelings when you are around. Ichigo will be quieter than usual but would glance your way, only to look hurriedly if you catch him looking.

And, I guess, Ichigo would detail an awful lot in your likes and dislikes, habits, and small details like that. But with Ichigo, I believe he's naturally overprotective, and of course, like I said before, he would have to trust in you that you could handle the situations you would get into because his protectiveness level would just shoot up real high. He'd be so concerned for you, worried for your safety and well-being, much such as to be overprotective. More of an Ichigo to care about your safety, maybe saying, "You need to be more careful! I can't always watch your back," then frowning at you.

Ichigo would just pretend to be irritable or impatient if he found you laughing with someone else, though he wouldn't tell you he's jealous.

He drives out of his way to do the kind of things that you do, whether that is something tough or easy for you, just being there when needed. Ichigo would offer to stay up late to help them understand anything they need help with. He would even sense it when you would feel low or stressed, and at that point, he would actually go out of his way to be someone who could comfort you, lend a patient ear, or show a shoulder to cry on. Even in small ways, like surprising them with your favorite snack or remembering to check in on them after a tough day, the ways Ichigo showed to care were consistent. His kindness will be real and sincere; this will convey that he has started caring more and wants you to be happy and supported.

How would he confess?

Ichigo would make sure that you two are alone when he confesses. He would probably spend a bit of time building up the courage, possibly starting the conversation with casual topics before diving into his feelings. He might struggle a bit but would try to explain what he feels :(( the poor baby.

You had noticed that Ichigo was behaving exceptionally differently with you these days, from his usual self, sometimes swapping his confidence for an insecurity that seemed awkwardly out of place. It was in little things: glances he took at her when he thought she isn't looking and the softening of his voice in speaking to her. Something in him changed, but he still tried to act as usual.

You could see that he had been wound up about something, and you kept your peace for him to talk when he would come around to it. After an ultra-long silence, finally, Ichigo took one great breath, as if he was steeling himself for what he was about to say. "You know," he started, extraordinarily reticent for being him, "lately, I've been thinking a lot—some thoughts about us, you know. You." He darted a glance at you in between, looking away afterward; the tips of his ears colored red. "I was never good with words, and this sounds. this is more difficult than anything I have fought."

The rush of emotions swirling in you had your heart racing. Ichigo pushed on, his voice gaining a bit in confidence. "I've always admired your strength, the way you carry yourself. But it's more than that. When I'm with you.I feel different. Better, somehow. You make me want to be better."

He turned entirely to face her, and his brown eyes were earnest and heartfelt. "I like you more than a friend. I don't know how to say it perfectly and I must spiral this somehow, but I had to tell you. I like you—you mean more to me than I can say, and I want to be there for you in any way I can."

Do not copy, steal, modify, etc. Relogs and like are appreciated.

M.LIST | BLEACH M.LIST |

ulquiorra one coming soon:3

[misc-obeyme]

To my surprise, nobody sent me a prompt for Lucifer for Kinktober. I don't mind, that means I got to choose. But I was surprised that he was the character that didn't get a submission!

Anyway, I decided to try writing voice kink for this one. Lucifer just has that deep voice, you know what I mean? I dunno, it felt like a good choice.

I maaaayyyy have gotten a little carried away. It ended up kinda long. Also do I maybe have a thing for MC getting it on with demons at RAD? Nope. Definitely not. The only other time I wrote about MC getting sexy at RAD, it happened with an angel. Satan in the library doesn't count, that's like a given.

ANYWAY. Here it is, hopefully it's not too terrible lol. I really need to work on my confidence in my smut writing.

KINKTOBER 2023

GN!MC x Lucifer

NSFW MDNI

Warnings: voice kink, semi-public, fingering (reader receiving)

You wandered the halls of RAD alone, on your way to class. You were a little early, so you were taking your time. The other students moved past you, everyone absorbed in their own lives, not paying you any attention. For once there were no demons by your side. You would see them in class, but you happened to have this moment to yourself.

That is, until your D.D.D. began to ring.

You pulled it out of your pocket and looked at the screen. It was Lucifer. What could he want? You knew he didn't have a class right then. He usually spent this time working in the student council room.

You answered it. "Hello?"

"Where are you right now, MC?"

You frowned. "I'm in the hall at RAD on my way to class. Do you need me?"

"Yes." Lucifer's voice had dropped nearly an entire octave. "I find myself fully distracted by thoughts of you and I can't get anything done. I need you here so that I can make you come in real life rather than just in my mind."

The depth of his voice, the rumble of need beneath his words, sent electricity through your veins. You managed to side step a small group of students, moving quickly to the wall, certain that anyone would be able to see the flush that was now on your face.

"Lucifer," you hissed into the phone. "Couldn't you have chosen a better time to say that to me?"

You heard a smug chuckle. "Consider yourself excused from class. Meet me in the student council room."

You didn't even have a chance to argue with him because he had hung up. You stared at your D.D.D. in disbelief. While it was certainly like Lucifer to be bossy, it wasn't like him to condone skipping class. But there had been something undeniable in his voice, something that still made you shiver a little.

You considered going to class anyway. He couldn't actually be upset with you about it, since that was the responsible thing to do. But it was too late for you now and he likely knew it. He knew what saying that to you in that deep voice of his would do.

You quickly made your way to the student council room, the halls thinning of people as you did so. Classes began and soon enough you were completely alone.

You paused before the door to the student council room. This location was also an unusual choice for Lucifer. Was he really that desperate?

You opened the door and stepped inside. The room was dark. Why were the lights off?

"MC."

You nearly jumped, but before you could turn around, there were arms around your waist. You felt Lucifer leaning in, his lips right beside your ear.

"Now that you're here, let us waste no time."

You shivered. But you also weren't about to let him get what he wanted so easily. You turned around in his arms and tugged on the jacket of his uniform. "What has gotten into you?" you asked, breathless. "It isn't like you to be so… needy."

Lucifer huffed and you could tell he was annoyed. You could only barely see him in the darkness of the room, but you recognized his familiar frown. "You say that as though it isn't your fault."

"My fault?" you demanded, but you didn't get anything else out because Lucifer had turned you around again. His hand was already down the front of your waistband, inching ever closer to your heat.

"I try to keep myself in check, MC," he said quietly in your ear. "Especially here at RAD. But there are times when I can't hold back. When I need you more than I need anything else in the three worlds. Would you deny me?"

His voice had lowered again, his desire causing it to become almost heavy.

You considered it. You knew that if you said no right now, Lucifer would let you go. That he would reign himself in, watch you leave the room and get to class, late though you may be.

You might have done that. But the truth was that Lucifer was just as much at fault as you were. And he knew it, too. He knew exactly what to do to make you crazy.

"As long as we're clear about whose fault this really is," you said.

Lucifer kissed the back of your neck. "You're right. I take full responsibility."

You were about to ask for that in writing when Lucifer's creeping hand finally found its way between your legs. You gasped at the feel of him, a gently teasing touch that made you want him even more.

"All I want is to make you feel good," Lucifer said, his voice still in that low register. The way he had you pressed against him allowed you to feel the vibration in his chest. "I don't believe that is too much to ask for."

You couldn't respond with anything other than a moan because Lucifer's fingers were moving more vigorously now, steadily increasing their speed and pressure. You pushed back into him because you weren't sure you could remain standing. Your hands clutched at his arms where they wrapped around you so securely.

"Ah," you gasped out. "L-Lucifer…"

"Come for me, MC," Lucifer said. It was practically a growl, one that you could feel in your own chest.

You let out a strangled sound, trying to keep yourself quiet here in the darkened student council room, as you came in Lucifer's arms. He held you tightly, keeping you on your feet, his lips on your neck as you squeezed your fingers into his arms.

It took you a moment to catch your breath and steady yourself. You leaned on Lucifer as you did so, heart fluttering as you relished the gentle kisses he left on your skin. When he finally pulled his hand out of your uniform, you twisted around in his arms again. You made him suck in a breath by putting your hand on his obvious erection.

You smiled up at him in the dimness of the room. "Your turn."

flufftober | kinktober | masterlist | Thank you for reading!

taglist: @anxious-chick @t0tallycoolname @libidinous-weeb

[cryptidghostgirl]

Loving You (Alastor x Gn!Reader)

Pairing: Alastor x Reader

Description: Valentines day special :) How Y/n and Alastor met and fell in love.

Warnings: Cannibalism, cannon levels of violence and gore and the like. Gender neutral reader.

Word Count: 2,686

Master Lists:

Master Lists 

Hazbin Hotel Master List

A/N I promise I am getting to requests, I just wanted to write something cute and fluffy for Valentine's Day :)

Loving Alastor was like dancing for Y/n. It was something they did by nature. There had never been a period of having to learn and they didn’t have to be good at it, they just had to try. Sure, he could be mean. He could be quick to anger and cruel but, so could everyone. It was worth it in their mind. He was wonderful enough that all the bad was more than manageable.

Alastor had not had the same experience when it came to Y/n. They were nothing if not stubborn and from the moment he met them, Alastor didn’t really know what to do with them. He had tried all the usual tricks: getting them to make a deal, threatening to put their voice in his next broadcast, the usual things that normally worked quite well. Y/n had just brushed them all off with a light hearted laugh as if each and every one of them had been some poorly planned joke on his part.

When he had realized none of his normal tricks were going to work, Alastor had tried to avoid the strange demon. He had done everything he could to stop seeing Y/n save for out right murdering them. While normally that would be an option, perhaps the best option, something about the way they thought it was all a joke just took the entertainment right out of it for Alastor. It was no fun if they weren’t scared and Y/n seemed like the type of person who’d keep laughing until the very end. He was sure their murder would just wind up being unsatisfying, maybe even vaguely off putting. It just wasn’t worth it in his mind.

Y/n on the other hand, had taken quite the liking to the feared Radio Demon and his straight edged sense of humor. Of course, they’d heard the stories about him. If anyone had asked them the truth back in those days, they would have admitted it was all an act. That secretly, beneath it all, the were scared of Alastor, that they were just trying to save face. The thing was that while he did freak them out a bit, send the odd shiver down their spine with his grin, they also found him intriguing. Y/n, like any demon, liked being entertained and Alastor? Well, he was the most entertaining thing they’d come across in years.

They had tracked him down all over the rings of Hell, there was no escape. Everywhere Alastor turned, he was met with their kind and oddly appealing face. At last, he had relented. Giving in to Y/n’s persistence, the two entered into a mildly uneasy contract of friendship.

They were his antithesis in every sense of the word. Where Alastor was prim and proper, put together and always well dressed Y/n was rather wild and undone. Where he had nearly perfect manners even when feasting on the flesh of unsuspecting demons, Y/n always seemed just slightly out of their depth. Somehow, they also seemed to always end up on top. It irritated Alastor in a way. He worked hard for his image, to get what he had. Y/n just seemed to stumble into their fortune, winning because they were too hard headed to do anything else rather than because they particularly deserved it.

It was a loose relationship they had. The occasional run in, the once in a while team up against someone neither of them liked. Not enemies, but not quite anything else either. An uncomfortable and confusing middle ground. Alastor liked it that way, he kept it that way. If Y/n was a distant facet of his life, then things didn't have to be confusing. Things could be normal and alright and under his control, just how he liked them.

It was the day Alastor walked in on them in his library that his opinion began to shift. Y/n had broken in, and inelegantly at that. The glass of one of the windows was completely gone, shattered in unrecognizable shards across the floor. He was about to yell, to attack them even, as he rounded the sofa they were lounging on. That was when he realized that the book they had pulled from his shelf was in Latin. He had stopped, staring at them in mild surprise. It wasn’t until he cleared his throat that they even seemed to notice he was there.

“You broke my window.” he had said, crossing his arms and tapping his foot.

“Yeah, sorry.” Y/n waved him off, barely looking up from their book, “Can you remind me what gravidis means?”

“Gravidis?” Alastor repeated after a moment, taken aback as always by their casual manner of being.

“Yeah.” they sighed, at last letting the book fall face up into their lap as they met Alastor’s eyes, “You don’t have a dictionary in here and know it is an adjective. I remember it meaning pregnant? But this is Thyestes, famously known as Seneca’s play without women so it can’t be. That doesn’t make sense, I just can’t think of what else it could be.”

“I didn’t know you knew Latin.”

“So?” Y/n had shrugged, raising the book to their eyes once again, “You don’t know a lot about me. Just cause I know how to have fun doesn’t mean I’m stupid. Gravidis. Help me. Now."

They were silent for a moment. Y/n rolled their eyes.

"Please.”

“It can also mean laden down, heavy, things such as that I believe.”

They carefully examined the words on the page, their mouth moving silently as they read. Suddenly, their eyes went wide, a smile breaking its way across their face.

“Oh my gosh wait, Seneca was so smart." they had exclaimed, barely looking up at Alastor, "He’s full of his children, laden down or whatever, because he eats them but it’s a perversion of pregnancy so that’s why Seneca used gravidis. I love him so much!! That’s literally such an insane move to pull.”

Yes, that had been the first thing. The first event to occur that caused the switch to flip in Alastor's head, made him stop seeing Y/n as so much of an irritation and rather more as an object of curiosity. Still, he did not seek them out. Still, he kept their conversations short and to the point. That was until the second major event occurred.

A few weeks later, Alastor was visiting Rosie in Cannibal Town. The pair were quietly having tea in the back room of her shop, catching up and enjoying one another's company. It had been quiet and pleasant. That was, until there was a knock at the door.

Alastor could picture it like it had happened yesterday. Rosie had gently placed her cup and saucer on the table, calling for the person to enter. It had been one of her employees, shaking in the doorway in fear of the pair of overlords. He had announced that there was a guest and in response to Rosie's furrowed brow, Y/n had peered out from behind the demon with a little wave.

Rosie had lit up immediately, getting to her feet and pulling the younger demon into her arms. Y/n had sighed, pretending to be irritated by the affection. Alastor could have sworn he caught a smile as they at last freed themself from Rosie's grip and sat down lazily on the couch.

"Y/n, dearest, I don't believe you've met Alastor. He is one of my oldest friends."

Y/n had shot Alastor a menacing look, halfway between a joke and a challenge.

"Oh we've crossed paths once or twice." they had hummed, grabbing a finger from the box on the table and popping it into their mouth.

Alastor rubbed his temples in irritation, sighing deeply.

"You broke into my house three weeks ago. I would not call that crossing paths."

Rosie looked between the pair for a moment in surprise before she broke out into peels of laughter. Alastor looked up, confused at the reaction as Rosie calmed herself. She took a deep breath, a hand to her chest.

"I should have known." she smiled, "You two would be close."

Y/n and Alastor had shared a look.

"So, how do you two know one another?" he asked after a tense moment.

Rosie smiled, grabbing Y/n's hand in one of her own and rubbing their knuckles gently with her thumb.

"Y/n here is my favorite protege."

"What?" Alastor asked in utter disbelief.

"Yep." Y/n nodded with a smile, "Rosie took me under her wing when I first arrived. She's a true peach."

It didn't take much time after that for Y/n to realize that the nature of their interest in Alastor was maybe not so innocent after all. They came to terms with the fact that it was something more that mild curiosity, a thirst for entertainment, with relative ease. It was just who they were. Of course it made sense the dangerous demon with a quick wit and sharp teeth would be the object of their affection.

Alastor on the other hand had barley come to terms with the fact that Y/n might be worth his time in any capacity when a few months later, he walked in on them murdering another demon. He had heard a noise from a nearby ally when taking an after dinner stroll. His sense of intrigue getting the better of him, Alastor had turned down it.

At the end of the dead end ally were a pair of demons. One was sitting on the other, hunched over it and tearing at it's skin with their elongated claws. Sensing they were no longer alone, they sat straight up and turned their wide eyes to the ally's entrance.

That was when Alastor had realized two things. One, the demon who had been attacking the other demon was, in fact, Y/n. They were soaked in someone else's blood, their hair wilder than normal and their eyes wide with surprise. They smiled, their teeth sharp points.

"Alastor!" They happily called to him, "Want some?"

That was when he realized the second thing: Y/n was beautiful. He looked away immediately, quickly turning his back on the scene as he felt his cheeks grow warm.

"No." he hurriedly called over his shoulder, "I wouldn't want to spoil your fun."

He heard the rustling of fabric as Y/n stood from the demon and walked over to him. Taking a deep breath, Alastor turned to them as they stopped beside him. Y/n shrugged casually.

"I'm not really hungry, I just was bored. You wouldn't be spoiling anything."

For Alastor, loving Y/n was like a disease. It was a diagnosis, the doctor refused to meet his eyes when he broke the news. It was terminal, his death hinged on them.

He spoke to Rosie. She was far from the neutral party on the matter he desired but, Alastor didn't know where else to go. She had smiled brightly when he had revealed the truth of his confusion, made some comment about knowing it was going to happen sooner or later. From that point on, he and Y/n were inseparable. Somehow, they always managed to find their way to one another's sides.

They never said anything about it because they didn't need to. It was fundamental, they each felt the need from one another. The gentle touches were enough, the bright smiles, the lingering gazes. They both knew how the other felt just like they both knew that no matter what happened or how long they were apart, they would always wind up back together.

Y/n was not worried when Alastor disappeared. It wasn't the first time and they knew it wouldn't be the last. They knew he always ended up okay. It was, however, most certainly the longest time they'd spent without him since meeting the Radio Demon. When, seven years after his departure, they caught the familiar static of his voice through the radio, trashing Vox who had tried to fill Alastor's shoes in his absence, it didn't take long for Y/n to track him down.

They rang the bell to the Hazbin Hotel, looking fondly up at the radio tower that had been haphazardly added to the side of the building near the roof. There were some shouts, some quiet footsteps, and the door swung open. Standing behind it was none other than the princess of Hell herself, Charlie Morningstar.

"Hello, would you like to check in?" she asked with a bright and kind smile.

Y/n looked over her shoulder to the lobby. Sitting on the couch within were a handful of demons, some familiar and some not so much. They shifted their gaze back to Charlie as a smaller, gray demon missing an eye came up behind her.

"Is the Radio Demon here?" Y/n asked, clasping their hands expectantly before them as they rocked back and forth on their heels.

Charlie exchanged a sceptic look with the demon behind her.

"You're not here to attack him, are you?"

"Something like that." Y/n hummed in response.

Before any of them could say another word, Alastor pulled himself from the shadows behind Charlie and the other demon. Y/n's breath caught in their throat.

"I thought I heard someone at the door." he stated, eyes fixed on Charlie, "Is everything quite all right?"

"Yeah." Charlie replied after a moment, "I think so at least. They asked for you?"

As Charlie spoke, Y/n slipped past her, walking right up to Alastor. Vaggie grabbed her girlfriend's arm, drawing her attention to the situation at hand. Charlie stopped speaking, watching the pair of demons intently. Alastor looked down with wide eyes as Y/n stood their ground, their hands on their hips and a slightly irritated expression on their face.

“Hey. I’ve been looking for you.” they stated matter of factly.

“You found me.”

“You happy about that?”

It was the first time either of them had really addressed the reality of their emotional situation. It was the first time either had ever asked instead of just assuming. Alastor’s smile softened as he realized the great Y/n, awe inspiring demon, afraid of no one and nothing, was nervous. They looked away, their hands fiddling with the cuffs of their sleeves as they waited for him to answer the question.

“Of course I am.” Alastor hummed, grabbing their shoulder and pulling them into his chest, “Don’t be a fool.”

Gently, he wrapped his arms around their smaller form, holding them close. There was a delicacy to his movements, a fear to harm. Charlie watched in excitement. Surly if someone like the Radio Demon could treat someone with such care, such grace, such… love, surly that meant that even Alastor himself had a chance at redemption. His chance was rough around the edges. It had bruised knees, messy hair, and a crooked grin. His chance wore beat up old converse and was easy to excite.

“You’re the fool.” Y/n shot back, their voice muffled by the fabric of his coat as they slowly wrapped their arms around his waist in return.

“Oh yeah?” Alastor chuckled fondly, planting a soft kiss on the top of their head.

“Yeah.” Y/n nodded, lifting their head slightly so they could meet his eyes.

“And why is that?”

Y/n thought for a moment. Their cheeks flushed pink as they shrugged.

“I don’t know. You just are.”

Alastor chuckled lightly and released Y/n from his grip. They took a step back away from him but not before sliding one of their hands into one of his. They slotted together like they were cut from the same stone.

“Don’t disappear like that on me again, okay?”

“Even if I do, you’ll just find me again.”

“Yep.” Y/n nodded, “It’ll take more than seven years to get me off your back.”

Alastor squeezed their hand gently.

“I’ll remember that.”

[selineram3421]

Hey? I just found your account and absolutely love it!

When you write with Alastor I always get this vibe from him:

And absolutely love for it 😭🥰

Oh my god.

Matched Search History

Prologue

Alastor X Writer Reader

Warnings⚠

⚠ Human AU, serial killer stuff so expect murder or mentions of it, oh and blood/gore, cussing, all caps for screeching/yelling, italics=thoughts, mentions of death, slight introvert reader ⚠

It wasn't your idea but your friend's.

There was a website that matched you with someone that had similar search history.

Currently, both of you were in the cafe with coffee and snacks, sitting at a two person table and having the usual friend hangout until she brought it up.

"Isn't that...a breach of privacy? How is this allowed?", you asked concerned.

"They only get what you give them! Like a questionnaire thing. You put down what you search and they set you up with someone!", she says and shows you the site on her phone.

"This is shady as fuck.", you say.

"Ok, maybe a little bit but you put what you want shared!", she smiles. "I mean you can meet another writer or someone who is super hot!"

Honestly you didn't know what to think of it, but maybe you could give it a shot.

I mean what's the worse that could happen? Haha..

"Ok..", you sighed and gave her the go to for making your account.

"Yay!", she squealed and started up a new profile. "Ok, so name, age, occupation..", she started typing furiously.

Once the basics were set up, she passed the phone to you to fill out the questionnaire.

At Matched Search History we only share what you give us! Any information you put into the system will be coded to find your Search History Partner, any other information you add in will also be added but stored away privately.

Please be aware that if any home address is added in the BIO or in MESSAGES it will be made public.

Yup. Shady shit right here. You thought and kept reading.

What do you search the most?

Answer: _______

You snort and type out murder techniques and first aid.

I'm definitely on the FBI list. You smile.

After taking care of the first one, you put down recipes, art and art history, science, little things like radio technology and other in depth research. You also make sure to put down cats.

"Here.", you hand the phone back.

"Wow that's a lot.", your friend scrolls down your list.

"What did you expect? I do a lot of searching on my laptop for the littlest things.", you shrug.

"Yeah, should have expected that.", she nods and looks through her photo album in her phone.

Leaning on the table, you look as she scrolls for the perfect photo.

"Which one are you gonna pick?", you ask and take a sip of your coffee.

"That cute one where you're hugging a cat.", your friend replies.

"Nah. Put the Halloween one."

She stops scrolling to look you dead in the eye, only to see your smug grin.

"No."

"Aw what? Come on!", you whine. "It'll be funny!"

"No! You're covered in fake blood!", she rejects the idea.

"But think of it! It would be fucking hilarious.", you nudge her arm.

"No and that's final! I'm putting this one!", she says and adds a photo without looking.

.

You honestly forgot about the account you both made until you got a bunch of emails about the website finding your match. You ignored most of them as they didn't go over 70%, that was until you saw the one you got today.

"What?", you asked with a mouth stuffed with noodles, being in the middle of eating lunch.

Picking up your phone, you check the email and feel your eyes widen.

You immediately called your friend.

"DUDE!"

"What?", she asks.

"THERE'S A HOT GUY WHO MATCHED 98% WITH ME!! WHAT DO I DO!?!?"

"Send me his pic! Duh!", she replies.

You take a screenshot of his profile picture and send it over.

"HOLY SHIT! I KNOW WHO THAT IS!!!"

"Who is it?", you ask.

"Don't you listen to his podcasts!?", your friend screeches. "He's the hot voice talking about murder mysteries and other creepy shit! You always listen to him while writing!"

"Huh, so this is him?", you ask. "How do you know? You hate hearing creepy stuff."

"I got bored one day.", she says.

Understandable. You thought. "Ok but back onto the topic. WHAT DO I DO!?"

"Send that love message to meet up!", she replied.

You deadpanned.

I have to go outside? I mean it wouldn't be bad if we went to a cafe or library. Maybe a bookstore... You thought.

"Fine. Since we already know his face he won't be able to run far if anything happens.", you said, making up your decision.

"Geez, don't talk like you're about to die.", your friend groaned.

"What? It's true.", you say. "Statistically, women are more likely to get killed on a date. Which doesn't rule out males but it does happen."

"UGH! Send me pics of what you're going to wear already!", she demanded.

.

You sat on a bench near a bus stop, messaging your friend. It was the best location for you to wait, there were multiple people around and restaurants with cameras.

Not gonna find out my address~ You sang in your head as you messaged your "match" that you had arrived.

You messaged him a brief description of your features and what you were wearing, so that way he wouldn't go around like a headless chicken trying to look for you.

Just in case things went south, you had a back up outfit to change into.

As you waited, a sudden thought came up.

Why was he on the dating site MSH? You wondered. Maybe his friend also pressured him to make a profile or someone else.

Then another thought.

What if it isn't him and someone just used a random photo they found to put up? You frowned at that. I hope that's not the case. That would be very annoying to deal with.

"Now, I hope that I'm not the reason my date is wearing a frown."

Turning your head to see who had decided to approach you, you saw a familiar face and warm reddish copper eyes. He was dressed very nicely, white button up long sleeve, dark red knit sweater vest, black pants, and black looking dress shoes.

"I'm Alastor.", he smiled. "And you are my date for this evening, yes?"

Damn it. You thought, trying to keep a straight face. He looks like a bookish nerd and that is definitely my type.

You stood up from the bench and gave a smile back.

"Nice to meet you.", you greeted and then introduced yourself.

Thank you for bringing this to me. I have read this post but forgot about it until you brought it back.

~Seline, the person.

Taglist@

@c4rved-pumpk1n @scary-noodlesblog @stolas-thebirb @naelys-the-aster @biromanticboba @lbcreations-blog @ducky-died-inside @kiraisastay @pooplyface1423 @line-viper @117s-girl @spiderlegsling @alastorsgoldie @kcsketches @lofasofabread @kotaleee @im-coolrat @superzombiewho @speckle-meow-meow @jammcookie @dilucragnvindr-my-beloved @trashbin-nie @koioli @fatherlesschild2 @mmik3yy @just-here-reading @nealeart @hudiexiaoying @crystal-multiplefandomlover @glowinggoldfish0 @tiredgamerhere @fluffy-koalala @valenfawkes @willowshadenox @aria-tempest @alastor-simp @nonetheartist @gallantys @i-3at-kidz @luxky-aish @ceafighter @xalygatorx @xangel-8 @big-brother-problems @mistpurpl3 @chewbrry @willowbrookhoot @briethekitsune @alastorthirsty @sir-aadiboii @fuzzyturtlepaws @+?

ML II for Alastor🎙

[dontyouworrydaddy]

First of all, let me tell you about how much I love your blog and your writing style. Your fics quality is top notch and I giggle like an idiot every time I see a new post from you. So, if it's ok with you can you write about our favorite COD men (including daddy Konig and Simon) whose SO keeps getting texts from her asshole ex - some of them begging to take him back and others borderline threatening, like "who's that dude you're dating now? You think you can replace me that easily?" etc. And our boys accidentally see these texts. How would they react to that situation? Thank you so much :)

𝑦𝑜𝑢’𝑟𝑒 𝑓𝑟𝑒𝑒

Task Force 141 (+König) x fem! reader

You have no idea how much I appreciate these kind words. Like you literally just made me CRY because I‘m so happy to hear that. You guys motivate me to keep writing fr🫶🏻🫶🏻😭 I love you so much and I‘m so thankful to you! 🩷🩷🩷🩷

Also I love the idea oh my god. I can imagine them being super mad at him and be like as soon as she’s sleeping I‘m gonna haunt that mf and be super caring and not leaving your side until you’re okay again. AHHHH I have so many ideas I can’t put them all into words😮‍💨😫😫

I hope you enjoy this fanfic! Thank you again for the kind words, I really do appreciate it❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹

➽───────────────❥

König

König found himself in a situation he hadn't anticipated. As he and you went about your daily lives, a series of text messages from your ex started flooding your phone. König couldn't help but catch glimpses of these messages, each one more distressing than the last.

I know you miss me

I still have that red dress from you…

You can stop acting like you don’t need me anymore and just come back ;)

You date insecure guys now? Wow Y/N… I mean I knew I was the best for you but I didn’t expect that low from you

I saw you the other day… You got a lot sexier ;))

I miss you so much baby. I love you…

They were filled with toxic words, attempting to undermine the happiness you had found with König.

Upon stumbling upon these messages, König's usually calm and composed demeanor wavered, replaced by a mix of concern and protectiveness. He couldn't fathom why someone would target you in such a hurtful way and it stirred a fire within him that burned with a fierce determination to shield you from harm.

His grip tightened around his phone as he confronted you, his voice laced with worry. "Schatz, what is this? Who is sending you these messages?" His eyes searched yours, a mix of anger and concern burning in their depths. But he wasn’t angry at you. He was more angry at himself because he feels like he failed as a boyfriend. His only mission is to make you feel comfortable and it feels like he failed at it. Because you didn’t talk to him…

You took a deep breath, realizing that the time had come to open up and share the painful truth. "It's my ex. He's been unable to let go and now he's trying to sabotage our relationship. I've been trying to handle it on my own, but it's becoming overwhelming."

The weight of your words settled between you, the gravity of the situation sinking in. König's protective instincts kicked into high gear as he reached out, pulling you into a comforting embrace. "Liebling" he whispered, his voice filled with determination, "You don't have to face this alone. I'm here for you and together we'll navigate through this storm."

His words were like a balm to your soul, offering solace and reassurance in a world that felt suddenly tumultuous. You found strength in his unwavering support, knowing that you didn't have to battle your ex's toxicity alone.

With each new text that appeared on your phone, König became even more resolved to protect you. He devised a plan to confront your ex, making it clear that his attempts to sow discord and threaten your happiness would not be tolerated.

But König's reaction wasn't solely driven by anger. It was driven by love and a deep understanding of the pain you were experiencing. He knew that these messages were more than just words on a screen…they were emotional daggers that pierced your heart. And he will make sure that your ex will never bother you again. Trust him.

Simon Riley

In the midst of it all the chaos he‘s been through, there was you, a source of light and solace that gave his dead life light. The two of you navigated the challenges of life together, an unwelcome presence lingered, threatening to disrupt the tranquility you had built.

But you were constantly tormented by text messages from your ex Josh. The messages were a relentless barrage of mixed emotions, ranging from desperate pleas for reconciliation to menacing threats aimed at undermining your newfound happiness. It was a constant reminder of a past you were trying to move beyond. It was always him trying to manipulate you into leaving Simon and go back to him.

One fateful evening, as you lay beside Simon, your phone illuminated with yet another message from your ex. Simon, ever vigilant and protective, caught a glimpse of the text and as soon as he read the words "I still think about you when I’m on my bed alone", anger flashed in his eyes. He knew about your crazy ex.

Concern etched across his face as he realized the torment you had been enduring in silence. You turn your phone around and looked up at Simon. So many emotions were written on his face that made you tear up.

Carefully, Simon pulled you into his arms, offering a comforting embrace. His touch was gentle, his voice soothing as he reassured you that you were safe with him. In that moment, he became your shield, determined to protect you from the darkness that lurked in your past.

As you drifted off to sleep, exhaustion finally claiming you, Simon's heart swelled with a mixture of tenderness and anger. He couldn't bear to see you suffer any longer. Resolute, he rose from the bed, leaving you in peaceful slumber and made his way to confront the source of your personal torture.

Due to his Job, it was easy for him to find out where he was living. And with determination etched upon his features, Simon found himself standing outside your ex's residence. He had no intention of resorting to violence, but his presence alone was enough to unnerve the cowardly individual who had been preying on your vulnerability.

As the door swung open, revealing your ex's face, a mix of surprise and fear washed over him. Before he could utter a single word, Simon's voice rang out with authority. "Leave her alone mate. If you ever come near her again, you'll regret it. And I‘m not a man to play fucking games with"

Josh felt the weight of Simon's unwavering resolve, cowered beneath his gaze. Fear clouded his eyes as he stammered out a half-hearted apology. Without further hesitation, Simon turned on his heel and walked away, leaving your ex to contemplate the consequences of his actions.

Meanwhile, back at home, you stirred awake, finding Simon by your side, his gaze filled with comfort and love. Wordlessly, he climbed back into bed, pulling you close, and kissed your forehead with a mix of gentleness and possessiveness.

"I won't let anyone hurt you," Simon whispered, his voice filled with a fierce protectiveness. "You're safe with me. Always."

In that moment, you knew that Simon was not only your lover but your guardian, a force that would go to any lengths to shield you from harm. And as you drifted back into a peaceful sleep, your heart swelled with gratitude, knowing that you were truly cherished by the man who would stop at nothing to keep you safe.

John MacTavish

You felt a mixture of frustration and fear as your ex continued to invade your life. The messages ranged from desperate pleas for reconciliation to thinly veiled threats, designed to unsettle and intimidate you. The constant reminders of your past were enough to make anyone's heart race and palms sweat.

One chance. Please baby.

Are you really dating a scottish man? You‘ve sunk so low.

One evening, as you and John were relaxing together, the barrage of texts became too much to bear. With a heavy sigh, you pulled out your phone, revealing the string of toxic messages that had invaded your peaceful sanctuary.

I will have you back, I‘m waiting baby.

John's eyes widened as he read the manipulative words that spilled across the screen. Without hesitation, John wrapped his arms around you, pulling you close. He understood the fear and turmoil that consumed you and he was determined to be your shield, protecting you from the pain of your past. His voice, laced with a mixture of concern and determination, filled the room.

"Baby" John spoke softly, "I won't let him hurt you anymore. You're safe with me, and I'll do whatever it takes to ensure that."

His comforting words and his strong embrace provided a temporary respite from the torment. As exhaustion claimed you, sleep finally descended upon your weary mind and body. Unbeknownst to you, John's resolve had been steeled.

As you slept, John quietly slipped away, his footsteps echoing with purpose as he made his way towards your ex's location. The darkness of the night seemed to amplify the intensity of his emotions. Anger simmered beneath his stoic exterior, a force ready to be unleashed upon the person who had dared to threaten the newfound happiness he shared with you.

John's arrival sent a shockwave through your ex's world. The smug arrogance that had permeated his messages quickly evaporated as he realized the true extent of John's determination. Fear replaced bravado, and he attempted to escape from the formidable soldier who now stood before him.

But there was no escape. John, fueled by a protective instinct, pursued your ex relentlessly, his presence an indomitable force that left no room for evasion. "Text my girl ever again and oh boy you wish your mom never gave birth to you" Cornered and overwhelmed, your ex succumbed to his fear and fled, leaving behind the remnants of a broken ego.

As John returned to your side, a mix of relief and admiration washed over him. The confrontation had served its purpose: to ensure your safety and send a clear message to anyone who dared to threaten your peace of mind.

You awoke to find John by your side, his features softened by the moonlight that filtered through the window. His eyes met yours, filled with a blend of tenderness and determination.

"He won't bother you again," John assured you, his voice unwavering. "I'll always protect you, no matter what."

In that moment, as you gazed into the depths of John's unwavering devotion, you knew that you were not alone. With him by your side, you felt a renewed sense of strength and security.

John Price

You had tried to move on from the toxic relationship that had left scars on your heart. But your ex refused to let go, bombarding you with text messages that ranged from desperate pleas to borderline threats. Each message chipped away at your sense of peace and security.

One evening, as you sat with John, sharing the burden of your past, a notification flashed across your phone screen. The words that appeared before you were a cruel reminder of the darkness that still lingered.

Who's that dude you're dating now? You think you can replace me that easily?

Your heart sank as you realized John had caught a glimpse of the message. The look in his eyes, a mix of concern and anger, mirrored the tumultuous emotions raging within you.

John's voice was steady, but determination laced his words. "Baby, I can't stand by and let this continue. He needs to understand that his behavior is unacceptable and that he must leave you alone."

A mix of fear and relief washed over you, knowing that John would go to such lengths to protect you. You nodded, your voice barely a whisper. "I want to move on and leave this behind. But it’s getting so difficult" All night he did nothing but hold you as you cried because the memories kept adding up. And John did nothing but kiss and hold you the entire night.

The next morning, as the sun painted the sky with shades of gold, John prepared to leave for what appeared to be a simple grocery shopping.

Time seemed to stretch endlessly as you waited, anxiety and anticipation mingling within you. Hours passed and just when doubt threatened to seep into your thoughts, you heard the familiar sound of John's footsteps approaching the door.

His face bore the signs of a confrontation, his eyes filled with a mix of exhaustion and determination. John took you in his arms, holding you tightly, as if to shield you from the remnants of the past that clung to your spirit.

"He won't bother you again" he whispered, his voice filled with an unyielding resolve. "I made it clear that his actions were unacceptable. He knows the consequences if he dares to cross that line." and you knew that he went over and made it clear to him to never text you ever again.

Tears welled in your eyes, a mix of gratitude and relief streaming down your cheeks. You gazed into John's eyes, overwhelmed by the love and protection he offered so selflessly.

"I don't know how to thank you, John," you whispered, your voice trembling with emotion. "You've given me a sense of safety and peace that I thought I had lost forever."

His grip tightened, his voice a comforting reassurance. "You don't have to thank me, my love. It's what love does. It protects and empowers. I won't let anyone hurt you, not while I'm here."

Kyle Garrick

You stood there, reading the text messages that illuminated your phone screen, each word like a dagger to your heart. The messages from your ex, filled with desperation and anger were a painful reminder of a past you desperately wanted to forget. His words were like poison, seeping into your thoughts and threatening to unravel the happiness you had found with Kyle. The man you want to share your life with.

Just as you were about to put your phone away, hoping to bury the unsettling messages deep within your mind, you heard a gasp from behind you. Turning, you saw Kyle, his eyes fixated on the screen, his face a mix of concern and anger.

"Love?" he murmured, his voice laced with sympathy and a fire burning within, "I didn't realize you were going through this. I'm so sorry."

Tears welled up in your eyes as you looked at him, the pain of the messages threatening to overwhelm you. But Kyle, ever the steadfast protector, closed the distance between you, wrapping his strong arms around you in a comforting embrace.

His words, infused with a fierce protectiveness, resonated within you. As he held you close, you felt a sense of safety and reassurance wash over you, erasing the fear and uncertainty that had plagued your heart.

Days passed and Kyle prepared for his next mission, a dangerous assignment that would take him away from you for a while. But before he left, he made a promise to himself, and to you. He would confront your ex, ensuring that he never dared to disturb your peace again.

As he set out on his mission, he carried with him the weight of your trust and the burning desire to protect you from harm. And when the time came, bruised and battered, he sought out your ex, determined to make him understand the consequences of his actions.

Face to face, Kyle confronted the man who had caused you so much pain, his eyes ablaze with an unwavering resolve. Your ex, taken aback by the sight of Kyle's injuries, cowered before him, realizing the severity of his actions. He pleaded for mercy, promising to leave you alone for good.

Kyle’s voice filled with an authority that brooked no argument, made it clear that any further harassment or threat would be met with severe consequences.

When he finally returned home, weary but determined, you met him at the door. The weight of the past seemed to dissolve as he enveloped you in his arms, the warmth of his embrace erasing the remnants of fear and doubt. In that moment, you knew that together, you could face anything.

After seeing him all bruised up but with a smile on his face, you couldn’t help but jump into his arms. In his embrace, you found healing. The scars of the past fading into insignificance compared to the love that bloomed between you. Together, you would face the challenges that lay ahead, fortified by the strength of your bond and the knowledge that no matter what, you were not alone.

[cera-writes]

can you do a story gambit where reader is a mutant or just has the power to either travel through the multiverse or see into different universes and she’s in a relationship with remy and she sees that gambit and rogue are together in every universe except theirs and reader ignores him because she thinks that they should be together so basically some angst and shes comforted by remy maybe some smut? 🤗💕

A/N: thanks for requesting this! This was such an interesting prompt and I had fun writing it! Pairing: Remy LeBeau x F!Reader Tags: nsfw, angst, comfort/hurt, sweet reassuring smut

In this Universe

You stand in the dimly lit room, your eyes fixed on the swirling portal that connects to countless alternate realities. The air around you crackles with energy, a tangible reminder of the power coursing through your veins—the power to see and traverse the multiverse. Your partner, Remy LeBeau, stands beside you, his hand resting reassuringly on your shoulder. His eyes, though masked by the shadows, betray a concern that mirrors your own inner turmoil.

"Qu'est-ce qui te tracasse, chere?" Remy's voice is soft, tinged with his usual Creole accent that still managed to wrap around your heart like a warm and inviting embrace.

You hesitate, torn between sharing your recent discovery and the fear it might shatter the fragile peace you've built together. "I... I've been seeing things, Remy. In other universes."

His grip tightens slightly, encouraging you to continue. "Go on, tell Remy."

"In every universe I've seen, you and Rogue are... together. Always." The words hang heavy in the air, laden with unspoken implications.

Remy's expression remains calm, but you can sense the undercurrent of tension. "And what does dat mean fo' us here?"

You turn to face him, searching his eyes for any hint of what he might be feeling. "It means... maybe we're not meant to be together. Maybe our story was written for someone else."

A muscle ticks in his jaw, but his voice remains steady when he speaks. "So, you think we should jus' give up because some versions of us didn't make it work?"

The question stings, not because of its sharpness, but because of its accuracy. You sigh, looking back at the portal. "I don't know what to think anymore."

Remy steps closer, tilting your chin up so you meet his gaze. "Listen to Remy, chere. Our love, it's real. It's ours. Not some borrowed fairytale from another world."

You want to believe him, to cling to the warmth of his words, but the images from those other universes keep flashing through your mind—Rogue and Gambit, laughing, fighting, loving. "What if we're just living out someone else's destiny?"

Remy shakes his head, his eyes burning with an intensity that surprises you. "No. Dis, us, it's ours to shape. Ours to fight for."

You feel a tear slip down your cheek, caught off guard by the depth of emotion in his response. "But how can we be sure?"

He brushes the tear away with his thumb, his touch gentle yet firm. "Cause I choose you, every day. And Gambit'll keep choosing you, no matter what those other worlds show."

His words resonate within you, stirring something deep and primal. "Remy..."

Before you can finish, he presses his lips to yours, a fierce declaration of intent that leaves no room for doubt. The kiss is passionate, desperate, as if he's trying to imprint himself upon you, to drown out the visions of other realities with the reality of his love.

When he pulls back, his eyes are dark with desire, his breath coming fast. "Let's make our own story, chere. One dat those other worlds will envy."

You nod, your resolve strengthening with each beat of your heart. "

"Please." You needed the distraction desperately to keep from coming apart at the seams. You needed him to ground you and make you really believe that this was your universe with him and that's all that mattered, otherwise, you don't think you could handle anymore of these visions.

"I'm right here, chere." He squeezed your hand.

Together, you turn back to the portal, hand in hand, ready to confront whatever challenges lie ahead, united in your decision to forge your own path, regardless of the echoes from parallel worlds.

You grip Remy's hand tightly as you step into the swirling portal, the sensation of being pulled apart and reassembled in a different reality washing over you like a tidal wave. The colors blur and merge, creating a kaleidoscope of visions that threaten to overwhelm your senses.

"Focus on me, chere," Remy's voice cuts through the chaos, steady and reassuring. You lock eyes with him, allowing his presence to anchor you as the world around you shifts and morphs.

Suddenly, the disorientation ceases, and you find yourselves standing in a lush, overgrown garden. The air is thick with the scent of blooming flowers, and the soft hum of insects fills the silence. You look around, recognizing this place—it's one of the alternate realities you've seen before, where Gambit and Rogue are deeply in love.

Remy seems to sense your unease. "Show Gambit what troubles you," he murmurs, leading you deeper into the garden.

As you walk, the scenery changes subtly, transforming into a scene from your visions. There, under a weeping willow, stands Gambit and Rogue, their bodies entwined in a passionate embrace. Your hands start to shake as anxiety takes over again. The sight stings, but before you can turn away, Remy pulls you close.

"Look at dem, but see us," he whispers against your ear, his breath warm and comforting. "Feel how our hearts beat as one."

You close your eyes, focusing on the solidity of Remy's body pressed against yours, the steady rhythm of his heart matching your own. When you open your eyes again, the vision of Gambit and Rogue fades, replaced by the vivid reality of Remy's intense gaze.

"I see only you," you confess, your voice barely above a whisper.

Remy smiles, a flicker of relief softening his features. "Good. Now, lemme show you why Gambit chose you."

He leads you to a secluded clearing, where the grass is soft and inviting. The sunlight filters through the leaves overhead, dappling the ground with golden light. Remy kneels, gently pulling you down with him.

"Here, in dis place dat isn't ours, we'll make it ours," he says, his hands tracing the curve of your waist. His touch sends shivers down your spine, igniting a fire within you that burns brighter than any multiverse illusion.

You reach up, tangling your fingers in his hair, pulling him closer. His lips meet yours in a searing kiss that speaks of promises and possession. The world around you melts away, leaving only the two of you, locked in a battle for dominance and surrender.

Remy's hands roam freely, exploring every inch of your body with a reverence that makes you arch into his touch. "You're beautiful," he murmurs against your skin, his voice rough with desire.

You gasp as his teeth graze your neck, marking you as his. "Remy," you breathe, your need rising like a tide.

He looks up, his eyes dark with passion. "Say it again, chere. My name," he commands, his voice a low growl.

"Remy," you repeat, more urgently this time, your body aching for more.

With a groan, he presses you back against the grass, his body covering yours. The weight of him feels perfect, grounding you in this stolen moment of reality. It almost doesn't feel real. His kisses trail down your throat, his hands mapping your curves with possessive strokes.

"You're mine," he asserts, punctuating each word with a sharp nip to your skin. "In every universe, you're mine."

The intensity of his declaration sends a thrill through you, fueling your own hunger. You wrap your legs around his waist, urging him closer. "Prove it," you challenge, your voice husky with arousal.

Remy grins, a feral spark lighting his eyes. "With pleasure, ma chere."

He shifts, aligning himself with your core, and with one powerful thrust, he shears through your barriers, claiming you completely. You cry out, a mix of pain and ecstasy ripping through you as he fills you, joining your souls in a union that transcends the multiverse.

"Y-yes... yes!" you pant, clawing at his back, desperate to feel every part of him.

Remy moves inside you, his strokes deep and relentless, each thrust a testament to his devotion. "Look at me," he demands, forcing you to meet his gaze. "See only me, darlin'."

You do, your vision blurring with tears of joy as you drown in the crimson and black of his eyes. "Always," you promise, your voice breaking with emotion.

His pace quickens, driving you both towards the precipice. "Together," he gasps, his forehead resting against yours. "Forever."

With a final, powerful surge, he pushes you over the edge, your bodies convulsing in unison as waves of pleasure crash over you. You cling to each other, bodies slick with sweat, hearts pounding in sync.

"Ours," Remy breathes, collapsing beside you, his chest heaving with exertion.

You turn to face him, your fingers tracing the contours of his face. "Ours," you agree, sealing your pact with a tender kiss.

As you lie there, wrapped in each other's arms, the garden around you begins to fade, the portal calling you back to your own reality. But for now, you're content to stay lost in this stolen moment, secure in the knowledge that no matter the multiverse, your love will always find its way home.

[mrsnancywheeler]

the lakes (2) // finnick odair x f. reader

summary: it's supposed to be over, you and Finnick are supposed to spend the rest of your lives helping each other heal. living as peacefully as possible, but the the third quarter quell throws a wrench in your domestic bliss.

previous chapter / next chapter

midnight rain

2.9k words

warnings: ANGST, fluff, mentions and allusions to mental illness, an elopement but not officially, terms of endearment, Finnick being cheesy af and also having a savior complex, reader also having a savior complex, allusions to death and violence, the reaping, sickeningly sweet but also heart wrenching things, cheesy writing, UNEDITED, no use of y/n, mild language

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

Suddenly the day had arrived, technically you'd let yourself bleed into it. How could you rest when this could be the last time you lay in your soft sheets with him? When you'd never seen the sunrise and set over the glittering waters of District 4? You needed to indulge yourself with the smell of the salt air in the early morning, touch the cold kitchen counters and rest your feet on equally freezing hardwood floors. So you stared through the window to the glistening stars which shined above the ocean water letting the sparkle ingrain itself into the depths of your soul.

“Can we stop pretending to be asleep now?" His voice whispered, hot on your ear like the arm lazily laying across your side.

“Yeah." You allowed yourself to softly smile as you sat up. All of the things you wanted to enjoy you equally needed to be done with him. To walk hand and hand around the sandy beaches, for him to mindlessly tie knots as you searched through the rocks during low tide for the tiny creatures that would appear. “Should we fish for our breakfast?” You playfully rose your eyebrows.

"You hate fishing.” Finnick had a toothy grin, you were humoring him, his passions and he loved that about you, but what that really meant made him resent it.

“Yeah." You shrugged, kissing him sweetly before unwrapping yourself from the blankets every so slowly. This might be the last time you could comfortably do that. “Let's get ready." So the two of you did so in each other's comforting silence, a routine that was so natural. He always took longer to get dressed, so you began with the very last part before exiting the room. Making the bed.

Carefully laying each blanket in what Finnick had long ago deemed to be the correct order and you could feel his eyes on you. He was so particular that usually he would do it himself, but he just stood in the closet door frame staring.

“Staring is rude, where have your manners gone?” You teased as you continued diligently preparing the bed for whenever it may provide its comforts again. When he didn't shoot back a reply right away you turned to look at him.

“Hard to remember when you look so ethereal in the moonlight, angel." Finnick approached, lightly grazing your chin with fingertips. “That pillow-" He pointed at the one clad in its silk pillowcase. “Is mine.” With such a playful and bossy look in his eyes you couldn't help but throw it at him.

“Fine, I didn't want it anyways, but this one is mine.” You grabbed the softest one in the bunch from his side of the bed and dragged it over to you.

"You little minx.” He scoffed, grabbing your arms as you held the pillow. You wrapped your arms tightly around it and he pulled you onto the bed trying to pry it from you as you erupted into laughter. "You end up lying on me anyways, it's my poor head that needs to be protected.” You tried to tear yourself from his arms wrestling against the tight grips of your arms, thrashing across the bed. “Messing up the bed now too." He clicked his tongue condescendingly at you, "At least I was already going to have to remake it.”

You gasped and let go of the pillow to lightly hit his shoulder which he used to successfully retrieve it. " You dick!” He laughed and stood.

"Just go sit by the window and look pretty, my love. It's not your fault you can't get it right.” You rolled your eyes lovingly as he helped you up.

"You're right, it's your fault for being so picky about it.” He hummed in agreement and gave a peck to your lips before gesturing towards the window adjacent to the chair.

“Let me admire you more as I do the work, angel.” So you sat as he went through the steps of his bed making routine. He did it all with a care that cut into your heart. Tenderly observing the precision he had for each act, it was as if he needed the bed to be such a haven to lay in that no imperfection could taint it. “We should get married." Finnick said abruptly after laying the final pillow down.

You were stunned into a stupor, staring back at him as the glow of the moon glittered on the bronze of his skin. “What?"

“Let's go get married." He knelt down in front of you hands on your knees

A shocked laugh left your lips, “Finnick, that's not how that works."

He grinned, “I don't care." His eyes felt like they were etching themselves into your heart. “We don't need some paper to tell the world, let it just be us, and the sand, and the waves, and the mist. And when this is all over we can go do it officially with the big white wedding or whatever else you could want, but right now let's just be one. Have the ocean bind our souls, angel. I wanna be yours forever.”

Desperation, that's what it was. He wanted to be yours so he could know that if he died the sea could tell the tales of your great love, the tides would echo your sweet nothings. But you couldn't find it in you to care about the deeper motivations, it could help heal his soul, help heal yours so you nodded softly and pressed your lips to his.

“Okay." His smile was as bright as the sunlight and picked you up in his arms. You could have fallen asleep in the warmth of his arms as he diligently carried you to the waters near your home. Passionately kissing you as he laid your bare feet on the wet sand. He looked at you expectantly, for what you couldn't tell so you teased him. “What? I know you're impatient, but don't I at least get a ring?"

You stepped away closer to the waters as you scanned the rocks. Each starfish and sea anemone, you'd miss the bliss they brought whenever you were out early enough.

“Here." You nearly jumped when he reached beside you to pick up a piece of washed up seaweed. “You deserve more, when this is over I'll get you the most gorgeous ring to show everyone what you mean to me."

“This is good enough for me, Finnick. I'm happy with this." You tore some of the seaweed off to fashion one for him as well, you envied how delicately his hands worked to make yours.

“You're happy that it's just past twilight and I've carried you to the beach so we can bind our souls together without even bothering to get a marriage license on the day of the reaping? And I couldn't even bother to bring a real ring?" He teased.

"I'm happy to be with you, to love you when it comes down to it, the other stuff doesn't really matter.” You grinned, “Let's just get married."

"I promise that for all of eternity, past when the sun last rises and when it lasts sets. Far beyond where the last star may shed its light on us or the time when the last leaf falls. With no regard for what is to come that I will be one with you. To have and to hold, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish so that not even death will part our bond and my love.” He delicately slipped the seaweed ring on your freezing finger, kissing your hand as he parted from your fingers.

“I promise that for every drop of water in the ocean, each grain of sand in the earth, each gust of wind, my love will increase boundlessly for you. That we will be one with each other when all thrives through its decay. No tribulation shall part my heart from beating with yours, my tears from falling with yours, nor my lips from syncing with yours. To have and to hold, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish so not even the hands of death will crack the strength of us as one, as we are one from dawn to dusk.” The breeze and mist blessing you with its droplets made you feel so light as you lay your ring on his finger as well.

You didn't question Finnick as he began to weave the remainder of the seaweed around your connected arms.

“May we be connected through the lakes, the sea, the rivers, the springs, the cricks, the ponds, the mist, and the fog with each creature within to let us be one in the world, what you feel, so shall I, what we need the other will provide, and let our devotion be smiled upon."

He kissed you, his honey sweet lips tinged with the salt of the ocean air and you consumed each other in every sense.

"I love you Finnick, so much so I'll refrain from telling people how sentimental you are."

“Only for you, Mrs. Odair." He kissed you again.

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

You'd obtained so many hours through the lost sleep to spend forgetting about what the day would inevitably do that the both of you could lose yourselves in being unbearably in love with one another. Neverending promises for the future, cuddling on the couch, dancing in the sand to fill the hours until the elephant in the room had to be acknowledged.

The two of you had wound down to the cushions of your couch to hold one another. The talking had ceased so you could simply listen to his breathing, his soothing heartbeat. Oh, if you could do this forever, to never move.

“We have to leave soon." The croaky way the sentence left your throat instantly wanted to send you into a frenzy of tears.

“What if we don't?" He asks, stroking your cheek.

“They'll kill us."

“They're already doing that."

No, technically if neither of you were picked you could both go home in peace, but as the time between the announcement and now had begun, whispers of rebellion and some type of plan had strengthened. Something Finnick wouldn't give up in fighting for even if he had to volunteer and you wouldn't be left here without him. Even if you did, that meant some other friend would have to go die in your place which would be a death within itself.

You reluctantly sat up and had no trust in your voices stability to repeat the need to go, maybe a death here would be better.

“Angel, you know my plan. I know you're unhappy with it-"

“I'm not unhappy with it, I understand you want to help because you are so caring and kind-"

“You're not selfish for being unhappy with me going back, your feelings aren't selfish." His hands cradled your face, “And that's not what I was saying. I just, please, tell me what you plan to do."

You sighed, “I don't know Finnick. I have no idea."

“Then stay, Mags will volunteer if it's your name and don't volunteer for anyone else. If I win then I can come back to you and we can really be married, legally as well as with the planet." He said eagerly, searching your eyes for affirmation.

"Your plans don't end with one victor coming home, so I can't say that. I want you to come home to me, but I want to be with you through it all, to fight your fights, to stand where you stand, not be left behind. But I don't know what I'm going to do yet."

He exhaled harshly through his nose, “You're going to stay here for me." Finnick stood up and grabbed you both pairs of shoes taking no further comment, but no matter what he insisted you'd swore to nothing of the sort.

Quietly the two of you walked towards the square of District 4, your head laying on the comfort of his shoulder. Each of your arms tucked within the others and rings keeping you both grounded within each other when you eventually had to part to different sides of the stage.

“I love you."

“Don't say that in a tone like you'll never see me again."

“I might not for a while, unless you go as a mentor."

“You don't get to make either of those decisions." You felt like you were being forced to tear him from what he assumed would happen to remind him of your own will and it broke your heart when you saw fear flash in the depths of his sea-green eyes.

“Angel-"

“I love you, Finnick." Your voice was filled with conviction as you kissed him with fervor before walking the opposite direction, trying not to look back as what you were sure was his worried, loving, angry face. Why couldn't you just be the girl who waited for him to come back? Why did you need to fight with him? But your soul begged you to do it, so you listened to the call.

Soon enough your breath was hitched even if you knew Finnick would force the same outcome to happen no matter which name was called from the male tributes. As if you needed any more surprises this year your escort had decided to swap up the gendered order of pulling the names. Proclaiming how entertaining Quarter Quells should be in every aspect. Which was probably the least entertaining thing you'd ever heard.

“Finnick Odair." The sickly sweet voice rang out in the microphone and your heart dropped even if you'd been prepared for him to get himself in the games regardless. Your throat felt tight and your fingernails dug into your palms as he smiled for the cameras watching intently.

“And now, for the girls. All such entertaining victors!” She beamed for the viewers, it disgusted you how happy she was for this.

You could feel your heartbeat ricocheting through your head as the tapping of her heels walked to the bowl of four paper slips. Your eyes gazed over the women besides you. Mags in her solemn sereneness, she deserved to pass surrounded by those she loved in her home, and then poor, shaking Annie who wasn't as good at hiding what you pushed down, the girl labeled as going ‘crazy’ by the Capitol, and Ondine who seemed like she had clocked out of her own brain. She stared forward so numbly it appeared as if she'd resigned herself to her death, an image that would haunt you every hour if she did die.

“Annie Cresta."

Your head looked at her instantly, she'd let out a quick sob as she began walking forward. Each step is unsteady and slow. You shot your head towards Finnick, you shook his head, eyes screaming at you to do nothing. To try to mentor but do nothing more. But Annie’s sniffles brought you back to her, she deserved so much more, you were certain her psyche would break before she'd even reached the interviews. As she stepped to pass by you you couldn't hold the adrenaline in your body back.

“I volunteer as tribute!" You shouted shakily, stepping in front of her to stop her from going further.

“No-" You heard Finnick accidentally slip as he looked at you so despairingly, but it didn't undo what you'd said which you felt more confident in as Annie began crying. “It's okay, I'm not gonna make you do that." You whispered to her and hugged her shaking frame as you felt your own silent tears escaping, trying to guide her back to the comfort of the other women.

“You didn't have to-"

“It's okay." You assured the best you could. Ondine, who you'd rarely spoken with looked at you and nodded, as if that said everything she thought, and it did. Suddenly it was as if the regrets you may have had were gone, this wasn't just about you and Finnick, there was so much more on the line and you couldn't have stayed home to watch anyone else suffer.

The consciousness that you were on camera hit you so you let go of Annie and turned back towards where Finnick stood, damning your heart for caring, for not listening. He tried to keep us appearances for the cameras, but the looks of rage, woe, and despair were evident if one simply looked into the depths of his eyes and the way his jaw was clenched ever so slightly.

“District 4’s tributes for the third Quarter Quell!" The screeching voice announced and you wrapped your hand into the stiffness of Finnick's and dragged them above your heads. Letting your makeshift rings sit front and center would be sure to draw the attention of the Capitol citizens deeply invested in this all. Allowing the tears to bubble at your eyelids, it was already part of the brand you'd created years ago. Finnick’s nose flared as he forced his smile and without goodbyes you were led off the stage towards the train.

You could feel the intensity of his rage radiating off of his aura, not the calming warmth he usually possessed, but you knew you wouldn't take back your actions regardless of who'd been chosen. So you resigned yourself to the harshness that lay behind the train's metal doors.

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed it. there is so much more I have planned for this series and I'm so excited to share it with y'all. if you liked it, feedback is much appreciated, likes, comments, reblogs any of it I'm so, so grateful for. as always, my inbox is open for any and all things or ideas! thank you again so much!

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