#fic: golden hearts bleed faster

[mithrilhearts]

Commission by @mysandwichranaway for my most recent chapter of Golden Hearts Bleed Faster! I love how beautiful and somber this piece is, and let me just continue to say it - Sandy never misses! Go commission him!

bagginshield | modern royalty/bodyguard au | teen+

Bilbo Baggins, Prince of the Shire, has been left with a kingdom on his back and a ring in his hand after the unexpected death of his parents. Bodyguard Thorin Oakenshield has been brought in to see to the prince’s safety, and do a little investigating of his own on the matter in hopes of coming face to face with the one who turned his mountain, and his life, upside down some years prior.

[silvergyus]

bitten- h.kk

pairing: mortal!hueningkai x vampire!reader

summary: a century-old vampire hunts for her latest victim, a mortal boy she may want to keep around forever

warnings: typical vampire content including killing victims (kai is referred to as your victim/prey multiple times), blood consumption (reader bites kai and drinks his blood). this fic is dark! please do not read if you are not comfortable with these descriptions!

smut warnings: handjob (kai receiving), blowjob (kai receiving), scratching (kai receiving), dubcon (reader uses vampire persuasion on him multiple times), cum eating

word count: 1,600+

song recs: death- white lies & vampires- l.i.f.t

Decades had a tendency to bleed into one another. Styles changed, slang evolved, but at their core, humans remained the same.

You stalked through the dark, crisp autumn night. Dim street lights illuminated your strides in a hazy, golden glow. You were on the hunt tonight, hunger pangs twisting your stomach, propelling you forward. An onslaught of scents flooded your heightened senses, causing you to stumble and turn towards the heady mix of prey.

After asking a drunk girl with shiny red cheeks to invite you in, you crossed the threshold of the worn-down house and into the party. The air hung heavy with a nicotine haze as you made your way through the packed bodies lounging in the narrow hall. The smell of hormonal bodies drenched in alcohol filled your head, but you wouldn’t feed on just any poor drunkard, no, you wanted to find someone worth feeding on.

You settled into an antique rocking chair, an heirloom that stood out against the cheap particle board furniture that surrounded it. From your perch you took in the bodies in the room, observing everyone in the space, taking in the sights, sounds and scents of your next potential victim. Your eyes found their way to a boy tucked into the corner, laughing awkwardly at the conversations around him.

The boy held your full attention. He was beautiful. Tall, with a broad chest and shoulders half-hidden in his oversized sweater. His black hair hung into his eyes, a shield from the prying eyes of others, but not from you. No, you were especially good at finding those perfect boys, these perfect victims.

Draining the life- or at least most of it- from a victim was always erotic. It couldn't be helped. Their body writhing under your touch, your bite, the way they always resisted at first, until your venom lulled them into a pliant state. It was always messy, no matter how delicate you were. Hot blood rushing down their exposed throats, pulsing sweetly into your mouth. Their loud groans and quiet whimpers as you fed from them.

And if every feed was going to be like this, why shouldn't you pick the prettiest meals? Pretty humans with pretty throats, pretty flesh to trace your fangs along, pretty voices to whimper at your touch. Why shouldn’t you hunt for the best? You had forever to find it after all.

And when you had the best, you liked to hold onto it. No, you didn’t always kill your victims. Sometimes you kept them around, little pets for you to revive and feed from again and again, until you got bored or over-eager. Accidents happen. You hated wasting a pretty body, but sometimes, the darkness within you was too strong to ignore, animalistic instincts taking over, draining all the life from the victim at your feet. 

This boy though, he was pretty, pretty enough to be held onto. Too pretty of a face to be discarded after one round.

The air was thick with smoke and incense as you made your way over to your prey. His eyes, though obscured by his messy locks, widened at your sudden presence beside him.

A century of life has taught you charm. You postured yourself to appeal to this boy as you took him in at close range. You could smell the cologne he wore, sweet and bright against his skin. Below that, the coppery scent of his blood was intoxicating. You could hear his heart beat faster as you spoke to him, hear it rush towards his blushing cheeks. Oh, how he flustered at your presence. He’s cute, this boy. You could wait no longer to taste him.

The night stretched on as you conversed with the boy, Kai, he divulged. His mannerisms charmed you in kind, a sense of innocence that you longed to corrupt. The hunger that turned in you drew you closer to him, to his throat, the intoxicating scent making your head spin with want.

“Kai, my dear, would you like to come home with me?” Your eyes flashed black as you spoke, supernatural abilities turning your words sweeter than honey, impossible to resist. He nodded, eyes glassy as he was persuaded into action.

The moments between then and now passed in a flash. The journey back to your lair one filled with touches and kisses. Pleasantries were entertained, but the hunger in you couldn’t be silenced, not when this beautiful boy was settling onto your settee, relaxing in your space. Your eyes flash again, persuading him out of his clothes and onto your bed.

----

Kai is laid back against you, bare skin soft against yours. He is pale, his soft flesh dotted with sweet marks and freckles, a pink flush coloring his face and chest.

Your hand snakes up from his waist, a soft caress exploring the broad expanse of his chest, trailing up his throat before grasping his angular chin. You point his face away from yours, towards the silver mirror positioned across from the foot of the bed. In its surface you can see Kai’s brows furrow as he tries to make sense of the scene presented to him. Only his naked form appears reflected back, yours nowhere to be found.

"Look how beautiful you are," you whisper, taking in his appearance in the glass. His eyes widen with horror as he realizes that even as you talk, even as you move, there remains only one reflection in the mirror. He can feel you of course, your breasts pressed into his back, your breath fanning over his ear as you hold him. Your fingertips ghost over his nipples, scratching them slightly to see how he arches into your touch. You nuzzle his throat, smelling his fear and the sweetness of his blood pumping beneath the skin. His veins, so blue, stand to attention as his adrenaline rushes. It takes everything not to sink your teeth into him right now.

"Do you want to be like me, Kai? Would you like to feel like this forever?"

He swallows, still mesmerized by the scene in the reflection. Your hands continue to explore his chest, caressing his unmarked skin as they dip down to let your nails graze his hip bone. You tease him, fingertips ghosting over his thighs, dipping into the soft curls that rest almost, but not quite where he wants your touch the most.

"Maybe not yet. Going to let you decide that in time." His hand reaches back for you, searching for something to ground himself, to prove you're real, to deny the image in the mirror.

"I'm real, Kai. You haven't imagined me."

He turns in your arms, facing you. His cheeks are flushed with adrenaline and arousal, ears stained red from bloodrush. His leaking cock is the same bright hue.

"I'll make you feel good now, hmm?" You catch the whine from the back of his throat. He nods, cautiously. "You'll make me feel good too?" He nods again, slowly, unsure of what he's agreeing to.

"Good," you caress his face, gently pushing his hair from his eyes, "because I like to bite."

With superhuman speed your hand grabs his hard cock, jerking him so suddenly he thrusts up into your touch, body reacting involuntarily. The second that you've settled him back into place, your teeth find his throat, sinking deep into his vein. The hot blood rushes over your tongue and teeth, filling your mouth with the coppery sweetness you need to survive eternity.

He whines, a high note that falls as his hips stutter into your touch. The portrait before him is one of debauchery: blood weeping from his throat as his blushing cock weeps silvery precum and his hips buck into nothing. Scratch marks bloom across his chest where your nails rake over his sensitive nipples, but he cannot see your hand. The sight is dizzying. He feels faint.

You notice his color start to pale and force yourself to pull off from his throat, though it is a challenge to. The breathy sighs he makes, the feeling of his skin against yours, the rush of blood all taking over your senses, driving you towards giving into animalistic hedonism. You pull off his throat and lick broad stripes over the puncture wounds, venom telling the veins to close, the skin to heal. He will have two faint marks and a dark bruise in the morning.

He groans when you pull away, the venom fiery and soothing all at once. You stop your movements on his cock and he whines again, desperate for release.

“Shhh,” you soothe him, still trying to orient yourself after the rush of feeding, “that’s a good boy.” You settle him onto the pillows and maneuver yourself so you are settled between his thighs. “Did so well for me. Now let me make you feel good.”

Your mouth finds him again, this time lips and tongue, not teeth. You kiss the angry tip of his cock before licking a flat stroke against the head. Your lips are stained with his crimson blood, a beautiful compliment to his flushed and needy skin. He groans and bucks into your touch.

You take him into your mouth, sucking him earnestly as your hand strokes the base you don't fit in. He is close from your previous attention and it takes almost no time for him to groan loudly as he releases into your mouth. Salt floods your tongue, a welcome chaser for the copper meal. You've fed from him twice tonight and he is hazy and weak in your bed, the picture of human fragility as his chest heaves against your sheets.

You crawl up the length of his body to kiss his full lips, stroking his face as you do.

"Thank you Kai, you did so well."

"If I become like you," he asks, voice quiet, "will every night be like this?"

You can't help the smile that blooms across your face. An eternity with this beautiful boy? It wouldn't be the worst way to spend forever.

author’s note: this is a work of fiction not meant to accurately represent the idol. please do not repost.

taglist: @lunesdesire, @dearlyjun, @moamidzyism, @miupow, @mapofthemazeinthemirror

send a message to be added or removed from my taglist!

[conkers-thecosy]

Hullo! 💛 I know it was a few weeks ago since I posted my fic rec list, but here's the promised compilation of unfinished WIPs that I'd like to recommend, at last! Do give them a look, they're all wonderful! ~ "The Veiled King" by MiraHerondale Bilbo has lost his memory after getting knocked out in Ravenhill, and is found by Thranduil. He’s taken to Mirkwood, unconscious still, to be treated. Upon waking, he discovers he has no memories of the previous year.

Unaware of this development, Thorin and his heirs lie recovering from their wounds and confined to bed rest. Free of the gold madness, the King orders them to search for Bilbo, as the brave burglar is still counted among the many who have disappeared during the fight. Despite this, they find no trace of Bilbo before a terrible snowstorm forces them to abandon their task and accept what they believe to be the hobbit's fate.

The King Under the Mountain mourns and, in the meantime, Bilbo sleeps.

~

"Ambassador To Madness" by @sunnyrosewritesstuff All Bilbo wanted was to be an ambassador to one of the richest kingdoms in Middle Earth. Upon meeting its prince, his opinion is greatly lessened. However, Bilbo still finds himself agreeing to play the part of his consort to help free Erebor from the gold mad Thror. Turns out, Thror may not be as blind as his grandson thinks, and intends to use Bilbo to get rid of Thorin once and for all. ~ "Sleep Alone; Start All Over" by vicious_summer Bilbo had a sudden, cheerful realization. “Oh, my, this must mean you’ve already dealt with the problem of the dragon without me!”

Bofur frowned. “Bilbo, no–”

“Sorry, you haven’t dealt with the dragon?”

Or: the Consort of Erebor loses about seven years of memory. ~ "Golden Hearts Bleed Faster" by @lordoftherazzles Bilbo Baggins, Prince of the Shire, has been left with a kingdom on his back and a ring in his hand after the unexpected death of his parents. Bodyguard Thorin Oakenshield has been brought in to see to the prince’s safety, and do a little investigating of his own on the matter in hopes of coming face to face with the one who turned his mountain, and his life, upside down some years prior. ~ "The Great Ereborian Doily Conspiracy" by @lauramkaye Thorin has always been happy to see Bilbo adopt dwarfish ways, until it is pointed out to him that Bilbo, not actually being a dwarf, might be happier in their marriage if Thorin were to make a bit of effort to adopt some hobbitish ways in turn.

Naturally, Thorin goes about this in a sensible and moderate manner. ~ "Dragonfly" by @edwardallenpoe Snippets of Thorin and Bilbo's life, learning to Heal, learning to Grow, Learning to Trust, and learning to Love, from when they survive, to the beginning of the rest of their lives.

Or; They both love each other and are afraid to tell the other, their plans? To tell everyone else they're together while the other has no idea. ~ "Sparks & Gardens" by @fantasyinallforms Bilbo grew up well-to-do in the peaceful countryside of the shire. Three years after his mother's passing, his father decides to move to London to take up an affluent teaching job at the British museum. Bilbo tries to make the best of his new surroundings and crosses paths with a surly blacksmith named Thorin Oakenshield. Bilbo finds Thorin to be an enigma, and Thorin finds Bilbo to be naive. Soon they will learn that Thorin's mistrust of the elite is based on experiences that lead to his dark past, and Bilbo is not as naive to the evils of the world as he may seem. ~ "Of Cold Hearts" by @domesticgoddesswriter Thorin was at a loss. He was a monster slayer. A killer of all evil creatures who prey on humanity. Including vampires. Especially vampires. He hated vampires. He wouldn't be content until he eradicated every last one of the foul beings.

So what in Mahal's name was he doing sitting here in a dusty armchair next to a cold hearth drinking tea (of all things!) with a (admittedly rather cute) vampire. The same vampire that he came to this old castle to kill. ~ Next time I'll do "canon-verse; all time favourites" Feel free to add your recommendations too, I'm always on the look out for new fic to read! 💛

[sunnyrosewritesstuff]

Ready to rec some awesome fics that I read this month!! Feel free to add on with some of your own Bagginshield recs. 😁

March 2024 Rec List

G Rated:

A Home, A Pack, A Place of Love by Lucigoo89 (WIP, 4K, 2ch.)- You can't keep me away from puppy fics! Deciding to run away from home, Corgi Bilbo takes puppy Frodo and escapes into the streets which might not be that friendly to the small animals. The love between Frodo and Bilbo is already so adorable and we haven't even met any company members yet!

To Court a King by Porphyrios (Complete, 19K, 1ch.)- This fic has been recced a lot recently and it's totally worth it! Bilbo and Thorin have decided to court, only some are worried about the worthiness of such a match. I have reread this fic twice just this month alone.

T Rated:

Desperate Magic by BeautifulFiction (Complete, 5K, 1ch.)- This is one of those fics that is worth revisting again and again. On the brink of death, Bilbo sees it in himself to tend to Thorin's hair. It's such a unique kind of Everybody Lives fic, and I just get overwhelmed by the love in this story.

Frozen Heart by snowmissus (soul_of_blaze) (WIP, 7K, 3ch.)- When Danny first promoted this fic on tumblr I was 100% invested. Erebor is trapped in a forever winter and Bilbo is brought to see if he can help. I can't wait to see what all is in store for this fic because the setup is spectacular.

Golden Hearts Bleed Faster by LordOfTheRazzles (WIP, 3K, 1ch.)- I've been waiting for Razzy to release this fic. Bilbo Baggins is the Prince of the Shire and in need of a new bodyguard, Thorin. Bilbo is just so sassy and you can tell this is going to lead to some good antics between the duo.

There and Not Back Again (or, The Saving of Erebor) by femmbingley (WIP, 164K, 49ch.)- There's so much to say about this fic. Post-BOTFA dwarven politics where Bilbo has assumed the duties of the consort which makes things more difficult for Dain. I really love the characterizations and I just can't get enough of this fic!

M Rated:

A heart of stone and Fire in his soul by Lucigoo89 (Complete, 3K, 1ch.)- This fic is chock full of beautiful metaphors. Bilbo's introspection on his thoughts of Thorin during their first standoff with Azog. Honestly, this is one of my favorite Goo fics.

E Rated:

Kurdu 'abadaz by LordOfTheRazzles (WIP, 34K, 6ch.)- This is unlike any Post-BOTFA fic I've ever read. The magic of the Arkenstone brings Thorin back to life for a purpose: help the trapped souls of Erebor. There's such a touching scene between Thorin and his amad that has me in pieces over this fic!

Sleep Alone; Start All Over by vicious_summer (WIP, 56K, 3ch.)- I'm still thoroughly enjoying this fic so far. After an accident, Bilbo is the one who ends up losing about seven years worth of memories including the fact that he’s married to the King Under the Mountain. I’m just always so impressed with vicious_summer’s writing style as it has a more Book!Bilbo vibe.

[artistgem]

Promises

The Siege of Orgrimmar angst fic no one asked for.

2,464 words.

Taran, truthfully, had no idea how he had survived.

One moment he was standing on a shoddy wooden bridge, determined and at peace, ready to give his life for all of Pandaria, the next he was bleeding out from being gouged in the stomach atop the spiked eye of Garrosh Hellscream’s battleaxe, Gorehowl. Force to his knees and could only helplessly watch as the Heart of Y’Shaarj tainted the sacred pools he had so desperately tried to protect. The resulting explosion of corruption blooming into the sky, polluting once clear skies into an ominous black and white, and that was not even getting started on the blight that soon befell the golden, eternal vale all around him.

A series of explosions erupted underneath the ground and the only thing Taran – completely shell-shocked – remembered was plummeting off the platform.

What ever happened between then and how he got to the final chamber were only brief flashes in his mind. Stumbling over unsteady terrain. Coughing up blood. Confronting Garrosh once more.

He must have blacked out again afterwards – or been knocked out - as he found himself laying in a pool of his own blood, which was seeping out from his leather armour, and a faint ringing in his hears. A pounding in his head.

He barely registered the fact the Sha of Pride was several feet away from him and it was helped by the fact the Sha seemed to care less for the pathetic Pandaren dying on the floor.

Because that is what was happening, Taran was going to die here.

It was not a noble death. He would die here as a failure.

He should have tried harder. He should have tried harder to stop Garrosh, he should have pushed himself to his upmost limits even if it costed him everything. He should have tried harder to convince Xuen not to allow the Alliance and Horde into the Vale. He should have – could have – done so, so much more and yet he had not.

For just the briefest moment, he allowed himself a moment of vulnerability and shed the tears that were brimming in his fading eyes.

He was not going to pass on to the next life in peace. Not when he had failed his people. His Celestials. His-

Cho…

His mate.

…

He was leaving his mate a widower.

Fresher, hot tears fell faster.

He had wanted to spend the rest of his life with his mate and now it was ending so soon. He was leaving Cho to go on with the rest of his life alone, with only the reminder his mate had died without peace and marked with failure.

And Cho had asked him to come back to him safe, the last they had talked when Taran saw to the evacuation of the Seat of Knowledge personally, just to make sure Cho would be far, far away from the conflict. He had promised him he’d return.

A broken promise now.

Maybe there was one bit of peace for him, however. Cho was far away from here by now and would not have been caught in the cross-fire of the corruption of the Vale. Taran would never forgive himself, in life or death, had Cho been a casualty.

He had promised to protect him in his vows.

Taran coughed harshly, the rattling of his ribs shooting pain throughout his body and he stared blankly at the blood that splattered onto the ground.

Well. This was it.

He just wished – even for a second - he could tell Cho one last time he loved him.

Cho was his sun. His warmth where he was cold and harsh like a blizzard.

He was so, so cold now…

He shut his eyes for what he knew was the last time and coughed and wheezed as blood caught in his throat. Such a pitiful noise from someone who was once larger than life.

Ready to see what waited for him on the other side, he was not prepared to faintly hear the great doors opening before him and a rush of feet passing by him, nor the sudden burst of life from the Sha of Pride, who welcomed the lambs to the slaughter.

He was not prepared to hear Cho cry his name.

When he opened his eyes, for a split second he had thought he was hallucinating in his final moments. That the image of his mate was some way to ease his mind as he passed on.

The moment Cho’s paw touched his own and squeezed it tightly made him realise he was all too real.

Why-…why was he here?

He was so confused.

He was in so much pain.

He was so tired.

“Cho?”

His body shuddered with repressed wheezes and coughs. He did not want to traumatise his mate more by hacking up even more blood. There was enough surrounding him already and the fact he was dying in front of him.

Tired golden eyes lingered to the enlaced paws. His heart ached seeing how Cho’s was shaking. He could not bare to look at his face.

“The-…the outsiders”. Taran’s voice crackled for a bit; it was taking so much energy to speak. “They did this…w-we should have never had l-let them in…”.

Taran could not muster any true ire towards the Alliance and Horde champions, who were currently engaging with the Sha of Pride not far from him. He barely had enough energy to speak, much less waste it on an emotional outburst.

He was tired. Defeated.

The faint press of lips to the bridge of his nose soothed the ache in his heart briefly, as did the gentle hush that was as light as breeze.

“Don’t speak…save your energy, I’ll get you to the healers”.

Had this been anywhere else, under different circumstances, Taran Zhu would have been greatly amused of his smaller mate attempting to carrying him anywhere. Cho only barely reached his chest and lacked any form of muscle as ‘knowledge was his armour and the quill was his sword’. Taran was now worried Cho would get injured trying to drag him out or make himself vulnerable to any lingering enemies who would easily pick him off given his sole protector was out of commission. Or he was just giving his mate false hope.

Taran had no time to tell Cho something cliché such as ‘I’ll only slow you down’ because the smaller male was wiggling himself underneath Taran’s left arm and heaving him up as best as he could. Cho was clever as well because he muttered a quiet yet determined “I’m not leaving you” that brooked no arguments whatsoever.

Mustering every last bit of strength he had left, Taran stumbled onto his feet to at least take some of the strain of his small mate. With one arm slung around Cho’s shoulders, his other hand was clutching the wound on his abdomen where a cloth had been-

When had that-…

It was Cho’s tabard.

When had he wrapped it around him?

It was already stained a deep red.

They took their first few steps. Taran gritting his fangs tightly. Locking his jaw as his body ached and screamed to rest yet he soldiered on for the sake of his mate, who was staring straight ahead. Repeatedly squeezing the paw Taran had around his shoulders every so often, whether that was to comfort Taran, or himself, or both…who knew.

It…was a long walk through the ruins and then out through the mine, all the while he battled between slipping into unconsciousness and trying in vain to stay alert. Not only for any left over sha but just to listen to the soft rambling coming from his mate.

If he died, he at least wanted to die hearing his mate for the final time.

His ears finally picked up on something else, commotion from the entrance to the mine which instantly had him on edge but Cho kept walking them forward.

“It’s the relief efforts”.

And he was right, outside the mine several first-aid stations had been quickly set up and healers of all factions, races and classes were banding together to tend to the wounded and paying respect to the deceased. Those who were not medically inclined worked in tandem to clear the area of any leftover sha or were scouting through wreckage and bodies, bringing survivors to the healers.

Something stirred within Taran’s chest as he was lead to a tent and slowly laid down, immediately being swarmed with healers and medics, all the while Cho was by his side.

“We made it, My Heart. Just stay awake with me now”.

Their paws never parted for a second even as the top half of his armour was stripped away, the blood-soaked tabard removed, and his wounds were tended to.

“You are lucky you are pure muscle; you are going to pull through, Taran. You are going to be okay”.

Taran finally had the guts to look at his mate fully and his heart broke into many splintered pieces at seeing the tears in his eyes, in spite of the smile on his face. It was too forced. Cho was still shaking. He always hated seeing Cho cry, such gorgeous eyes and kind face should never have a hint of sorrow ever.

Achingly, he lifted his free paw to wipe away those dreadful tears with his thumb. Cho leaning into the palm of his paw with a mix of a sob and a laugh.

“’m…I’m so sorry…”

“What ever for, My Heart…you are here you came back to me like you promised”.

Taran squeezed his eyes shut.

“I failed…the Vale I-…I tried…I should have done more I’m so sorry”. He hated how his voice cracked. “So…so many good people died”.

Cho’s face contorted into worried horror.

“Taran…Taran, no…no nonono do not say such things you did everything you could have”. His own voice was breaking as tears were flowing even more freely. Purple eyes lingering on the wound to his abdomen before Taran firmly tilted his head back to look him in the eyes again.

(He was grateful the healers and medics were professional and focused on tending to him rather than actively eavesdropping in on a vulnerable conversation).

“I just want you here – alive – with me. The Vale can be restored. The dead can be put the rest. I cannot replace you…please, I cannot- I can’t I can’t I can’t…”

He was sobbing now. Gut wrenching sobbing and Taran was shaking now, squeezing Cho’s paw tightly.

“Don’t cry…I hate seeing you cry”.

Cho sniffled.

“I could say the same to you…”

With another sniffle, Cho laid down on the hard dirt and burrowed his face into Taran’s neck, who rested his chin atop his mate’s head. The healers and medics worked dutiful and ignored the howling cries and barely repressed sobs.

Soon their work was done. Wounds were stitched, bandaged. Blood lost was slowly being transferred back.

Taran and Cho still laid side by side. Exhausted and red-eyed and silent. Their clasped paws were held between them and at some point Taran had brought his other arm around Cho to cushion him off the uncomfortable ground. Cho was busy focused on his heartbeat.

There was movement at the tent’s entrance which Taran and Cho could only blankly glance over too, being greeted by one of the relief effort volunteers who looked reluctant for their sake.

“Lorewalker Cho, you are needed out here. Lady Proudmore and Lord Regent Theron require someone who has been into the chambers below and no one from the previous party has returned…”

Cho did not move for a moment before slowly sitting up. Even more slowly bringing the palms of his hands to rub at the corners of his eyes and sniffed.

“May I have a moment…I will be out shortly”.

“Of course”.

The volunteer turned and left quickly. Cho shakily sighed before straightening up, taking slow and measured breathes. Taran watched him undo his hair bun, fix his hair before redoing it up again, carding blunt claws through his sideburns and harshly rubbing at his cheeks to remove the feeling of tear stains. He reached to the side and slipped on a fresh, clean tabard – that one of the medics must have left for him earlier.

He did not look ready to face anyone but Taran admired how quickly he put on a fake mask to appear fine when things were not fine.

Cho looked at him and smiled (it did not reach his eyes).

“Seems they need a navigator”. He laughed humourlessly. “No idea why…getting down there is simple enough and the champions cleared everything out”.

The Lorewalker bent down and pressed a soft kiss to Taran’s forehead and made to stand up when Taran reflectively grabbed his wrist. Fur standing on end. Cho was briefly startled but his smile settled into something more genuine.

“Taran, I’ll be fine”.

The Lord stared at his paw around Cho’s wrist and slowly loosened it, not releasing it though. Mildly embarrassed but could you blame him for being on edge and not wanting his mate to go back down there.

But he could not delay Cho any longer.

“Come back to me, safe”, he begged. Quietly.

Cho’s features softened even more. This was the Cho he knew and loved. “I will, I promise”.

He bent down again and Taran leaned up, aiming for a kiss to the lips but Cho planted the kiss to his nose instead. Upon seeing the confused look on his mate’s face, Cho raised an eyebrow, amused.

“We can have a proper kiss once you wash the blood out of your mouth”.

Taran blinked and – for the first time that day – laughed, even if it was soft and short. His fingers slipped from Cho’s wrist and he let his mate stand and move to the tent’s flap. Cho paused and turned back to Taran. Face sincere and eyes captivating and Taran was reminded all over again how wonderfully, radiantly gorgeous Cho was.

“I love you, My Heart”.

His heart quickened.

“I love you too, My Flower”.

Cho closed his eyes, breathed in deep before composing himself. Set his shoulders and stepping out of the tent, leaving with a flutter of his cape.

It was silly how quickly Taran immediately missed his presence but there was not much he could do until he was given the clearance to leave. However long that was.

So instead he laid back down and tried to rest. Holding on tight to the promise Cho would be back and he would be fine and safe.

When a healer entered his tent and finished up some exams, they asked if he needed anything – food, something to drink, some painkillers?

He asked for mouthwash.

[wildelydawn]

because i like turning everything into an AU, i cannot stop thinking about prince!pedri x knight!unai i can see my brain going !!!!!! just thinking about it 😭 thought about writing a fic then i remembered i am Not a writer so all i can do is yap in your inbox i apologize 🫡

pedri is the lovable prince with a golden heart 💛 i noticed he’s such a selfless person always helping others whenever he can, and how much he values the people closest to him. one day he will be an incredible king, for all he cares about the most is his people. and because this guy is so incredibly shippable you best believe he has a long line of suitors waiting at the gates.. although none of them know his heart was already stolen by a certain knight in shining armor 🤭

unai is the handsome and mysterious knight 🗡 the best warrior in the whole kingdom. his strength and discipline are admirable, he is courageous and not afraid to take risks. (like choosing to play while injured? he used to go training then to uni classes in the same day??) he’s loyal to the core, a great example of how a knight should be. despite that, during tournaments no one knows unai’s heart is beating a little faster trying to impress a certain brown eyed prince watching his every move from the royal stands

- 🧸

AHHHH okay first, hello!! And second, YES. TO ALL OF THIS.

Pedri is the People's Prince. The People are wary of his father/current King and some are worried that Pedri will rule similarly, but as he grows and starts carving himself out diplomatically and socially, the People see how compassionate he is and how he tries to put the benefit of his people first.

Thinking about maybe a sprinkle of arranged marriage; Pedri is of age to marry and, let's face it, most royal marriages are political. Until one day he's secretly traversing across the practice grounds (because idk, Prince Pedri does that because!!!! he loves interacting with the people!!!_ and he catches sight of this alleged knight who has yet to be bested on the grounds. The knight that his advisors constantly praise, so he must go see him in person.

Unai is the best, but never arrogant. Quiet, but not when there's injustice happening. Fair, but firm when training others. Of course, the King hand picks the best knights, and Unai has proven himself time and time again, not just in battle but in all the qualities of a knight.

The first time they officially meet is when Unai wins a tournament. He's bleeding, dirty, but ultimately victorious, and Pedri is the one who gifts him his winnings: gold, a ceremonial sword, the title of the strongest knight in their kingdom. But really, none of that comes close to the gift of himself. Pedri sneaks off later to meet with Unai in the medical tent to help bandage him, calls Unai his knight.

ALSO please never apologize for yapping, I love yappers and this is such a lush idea, you honestly should write it!! ☺️ It's never too late to start writing ^v^

[sirthisisa-wendys]

Can i please request a fluff with rengoku + 19, 27,29 🤧 (please let him survive in this one, i've been seeing lots of fics where d-word, i want him to be happy, grow old, train tanjiro, marry, and have as much kids as he want)

DELIVERY! (Rengoku has been in my head RENT FREE for WEEKS.)

Right Here: Kyojuro Rengoku x Fem!Reader

wc: 1.2k

tw: fluff

masterlist

“Lady Rengoku,” you hear at the door of your studio, and you turn back to face the attendant, mid-brushstroke.

“Yes?” you breathe, wondering what news she brings so early in the morning.

“Master Kyojuro has returned,” she replies, and you dunk your brush in the water pail.

“Is he well?” you wonder, wiping your fingers on your towel. When the woman doesn’t answer, you eye her carefully.

“Miss, he--” You march out of your studio quickly, dropping the towel and running as fast as you can. You dash past Inosuke, Tanjiro, the yellow-haired boy, and Nezuko, panting as you make it to the Butterfly Mansion’s infirmary.

“Tengen,” you wheeze as you stop. “Where is--”

“Inside.” He thumbs past the doors, and you walk inside, where you see Rengoku on a bed covered in blood.

“Kyo,” you whisper, squatting next to his bed. He groans, opening one eye slowly before looking over you. “Kyo, speak to me.”

“You’ve been painting,” he murmurs, trying to smile. He fails and grunts softly, bringing his hand up to his ribs.

“Don’t… don’t…” you whisper, tears rolling down your face.

“I’m okay,” he finally replies, wincing. “Young Kamado and his friends brought me here just in time.” He begins to cough, spitting up blood in his hand, and you rush to grab a towel to wipe his face. As you tenderly pat his skin, Kyojuro hums softly, closing his eyes. “You’re so sweet to me, my love.”

“Hey,” you begin. “You need to keep your eyes open. Just a little longer for me. Okay, Kyo?” Kyojuro nods in response, fluttering his golden eyes back open and reaching up to touch the hand resting on his face.

“I must be blessed beyond measure to have an angel like you attending to me.” You laugh in response, his words harkening back to the day you two first met. “We have to stop meeting like this…” He tries to laugh, but he groans instead, holding his ribs again. An attendant comes by with something for him to drink, and you prop more pillows under his head before holding the cup to his lips.

“It’s a little warm,” you warn, but he chugs it down anyway.

“Three broken ribs, a slightly punctured lung, a bruised collarbone, some internal bleeding, and various cuts all over,” the attendant informs you, and you nod, turning back to Kyojuro.

“Now what trouble did you get into this time?” you ask, tilting your head, but he just wheezes out a laugh, trying again for a smile. “We will talk once you get some rest,” you urge him, pulling the covers around his figure. You place a kiss on his lips and he kisses you back, reaching up a hand to stroke your hair.

“Will you remain here, yn/?” he asks as you pull away. You nod, resting a hand on his.

“I’ll be here until you’re well again.”

_____________________________________________________________ The coughing fits begin in the middle of the night.

In an instant, you’re up, holding a fresh towel beneath his mouth to catch the blood, stroking his back as he attempts to catch his breath, eyes wide with panic and something you haven’t seen in a long time: fear.

“Just keep breathing. In and out. You’re doing great,” you whisper as he struggles, but when he falls asleep again, you sigh, watching his chest rise and fall slowly. You didn’t sleep again until the sun rose and an attendant could take over while you climbed into bed and got some rest.

And most days were like that: wake up, tend to Kyojuro until he fell asleep, fall asleep a little, help him with his breathing, keep watch, then rest again when the attendant comes. Sometimes Tanjiro and his friends would come by to see about him and lift his spirits, and other times, Tengen and various other Hashira would come by with stories about demons they encountered, much to your disapproval. You know he wants to get better so he can rejoin them, and after they leave, he lapses into silence, staring at his hands as if doing so would make him heal faster.

But when the day comes for him to finally be released, you ease him back to the estate, looping your arm around his.

“Your bed’s been waiting for you,” you tease, and Kyo laughs with joy.

“It’s been waiting for you, too.” When you ease him onto the bed, he sighs, looking around him at the familiar red and brown hues of the master bedroom.

“Lady Kocho said to take it easy for the next few days,” you remind him as he swings his legs onto the bed.

“Take it easy?” Kyojuro laughs, putting his hands under his fiery hair.

“Kyo,” you warn, and he holds his hands up in surrender, the devilish grin returning to his features.

“Okay, okay.”

“If you’re good, I’ll make sure to go get sweet potatoes for dinner nex--”

“I’ll be the best patient you’ve ever had, my love,” Kyojuro rushes out, and you turn to him, raising a brow.

“That means minimal physical activity.” The Flame Hashira’s mouth goes slack, and you turn back to the dresser, removing your skirt. “And no forgetting.” The groan elicited from his mouth sounds more painful than when he was actually injured, you notice.

_____________________________________________________________

Blood stains your hands and arms as you’re hovering over Kyojuro, his eyes staring at the sky as you press on his chest - one, two, three, four, five, six --

“Y/n, he’s gone,” Tengen whispers over your shoulder.

“No, no, he’s right here,” you cry, tears falling onto your hands as you pump his chest three more times and then blow air into his mouth. “Stay with me, Kyo, stay with me.”

One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight--

“Stop!” Tengen hollers, pushing you off of your dead lover. Before he can scoop up his friend, you shield him with your body, weeping profusely.

“Stay away from him!” you scream, the sun beating down on your exposed neck. “Leave him alone, you--”

A deep inhale brings you back into consciousness, and you sit up abruptly, your heart still stuttering furiously. You don’t even realize you’ve been crying when Kyo grunts and sits up, turning on a light.

“You alright?” he asks before turning around and seeing your tears. “Oh, no…” Kyojuro’s eyes soften as you collapse in his arms, his lips pressing against your forehead tenderly. “Look at me, y/n.” Kyojuro’s fingers tilt your chin up, and he whispers, “Just look at me. Forget everything else; it was just a bad dream. I promise you, I’m not going anywhere.”

“I’m always too late,” you hiccup. “I’m always one step behind.”

“You’re right here with me; right where you need to be at this moment.” His fingers wipe at your tears quickly. “You made me promise that I would train young Kamado, have at least four kids with you, grow old, and then you’d give me permission to die.” You laugh a little, remembering the look on his face when you demanded that he hold off on dying for at least sixty years. “I’m not going anywhere, my love. I’m right here.”

[unwrittenlibrary]

Tee’s Summer Reads 🖤

hi all! as summer comes to a close and classes start back up again, i wanted to come on here and share some pieces i read over break that i just loved.

as always, heed to any and all warnings each creator has put in place. eighteen plus spaces deserve respect and you are urged to show them it.

— ➶ —

Bucky Barnes

i wished one the moon for you by @sunmoonandbucky • “After losing Bucky, you were devastated. So when Howard Stark asks for volunteers for an experiment, you're the first in line.” -> 40s buck & present bucky? love that lasts through time? love it

the shot heard round the tower & unwarranted weakness by @pellucid-constellations • “you just want to know if bucky has feelings for you. bucky just wants you to be okay.” -> these two pieces can be read separately, but i highly suggest reading them both because bucky is written so well and they made me feel warm all over. 

see the world the way you do by @vanderlustwords • “you start to see color when you meet your soulmate. bucky thinks that soulmates are a one of a kind thing.” -> there are So many lines in this that just... sit with you. i felt so much reading this. that tight feeling in your chest, pure happiness, anger... i just absolutely loved this. 

a little old fashioned by @gogolucky13 • “bucky is a bit subtle in telling you he likes you.”-> behold...sweet, shy comfort fic bucky. i go back and read this when i’m sad. 

he’s a good friend by @markandlexies • “reader is tired of watching bucky go on dates with leah and flirt with sarah.” -> give me all the oblivious, pining friends to lovers. just incredible writing and a truly lovely piece. 

tap by @houseravenclaws •  “bucky never talked much, he fell in love anyway.” -> you KNOW i already love sarah’s writing, it was on my last list. HERE’S MORE! this fic tore me apart in the best way and i still think about it all the time. it has become a go to. 

all the good things by @/houseravenclaws • “bucky’s been a little more than happy recently. sam thinks it has something to do with the pretty girl on the team.” -> need i say more? i needn’t say more. 

i love you, you idiot by @chrisevansjellybeans • “we’re best friends but won’t say we’re in love trope.” -> this fic made my heart sore. i love when writers have the ability to show love through the smallest of details and this fic did that so well. 

the things you’ve done by @divine-mistake • “what if the world ended tomorrow and all he did was spend his last day with you thinking about how you never hold his metal hand and you never walk on his left side and you constantly reach for his right arm?” -> OHHHHHHHHH MAN oh man this fic left me in shambles. absolute shambles and gave me a big, bright smile. insecure!bucky just does something to me. bucky is written perfectly in this. 

cornerstone by @agentofbarnes • this is a piece of zee’s (incredible) barnes’ au where bucky and reader (babydoll) are married with kids. -> i love the entire barnes’ au, but this piece honestly meant so much to me??? seeing bucky as an incredibly loving and open father just makes me so happy. 

leather jacket full of cats by @bucksfucks • “bucky brings home kittens.” -> nora doesn’t write fluff, but when she does it comes out absolutely incredible???? bucky and kittens?? PLEASE this made so happy (hi keep an eye out for more of nora’s work in the nsfw section) 

bulova by @babycap • “in the five years between the two snaps that changed it all, life had moved on, as life is want to do. In the aftermath of that final battle, you discover that time waited for no one (least of all you), and those you loved marched forward into it without you. Sam suggests you volunteer at the local retirement community to keep you busy, keep your mind from lingering on what—and who—you lost. In giving back, you find that time can be just as generous as it is cruel.” -> this is a babycap (dev my love) fan account. i have never read such beautiful words & i am always so stunned by the amazing works that dev puts out. i get so excited to read them. 

sunset by @belladonnabarnes • “bucky meets a pretty girl and her little sister at the zoo.” -> how did you know it was my dream to meet bucky at the zoo jaye?????? ahhhhh i loved this fic so much, it was so incredibly sweet i had the dopiest smile on my face when reading it. 

crawl home to her by @wkemeup • “stranded without coms, alone, and bleeding out in the middle of a russian snow storm, bucky is content to let nature take its course. only you won’t seem to let him go.” -> this fic is a masterpiece. a genuine piece of art. i was on the edge of my seat reading it, hoping i could faster than possible just to find out if bucky made it.

suburbia by @/wkemeup • “posing as husband and wife, you and bucky infiltrate a quaint suburban neighborhood in search of a hydra hacker. perhaps if you weren’t so in love with him and he hadn’t broken your heart, the act of pretending wouldn’t hurt so much.” -> yeah this one HURT. in the best way, an absolute favorite. so so so good.

that was premonition, i think by @divine-mistake • “sometimes you wish you had never fallen in love with bucky. screw that ‘it’s better to have loved and lost’ bullshit. you wish you had never fallen in love with bucky barnes.” -> just so so good. i was speechless after reading.

Others

Sam Wilson

the summertime and butterflies all belong to your creation by @golden-bucky • “you’ve never been one for baseball, but sam wilson is enough to change your mind.” -> ok. listen. i HAVE always loved baseball and this fic made me dream of mr. sam wilson in a lil uniform and me cheering him on. it was so sweet and i just loved it. a dream come true.

scary love by @bvckysmoon • “the first ‘i love yous’ are always scary.” -> being in love with sam wilson? yes please! this fic is so tooth achingly sweet, i adore it.

that way by @belouva • “you don’t know what label to fall under anymore. were you his roommate, friend or his lover?” -> i love roommate! sam… the first two parts of this series are so good.

Steve Rogers

you don’t know by @/divine-mistake • “until her gaze falls on you and her lovesick puppy dog eyes morph into saucers, leaving her frozen in pure shock. that visage quickly melts away to reveal a smug smile, aimed right at you, and you know exactly what she’s thinking at this moment.” -> steve & plus-size reader! i actually teared up, this fic hit really close to home and is beautifully written.

Spencer Reid

the one where everyone finds out by @reidscanehand • “Spencer Reid is in love with Y/N, and she’s in love with him...only they don’t know it yet...and they might be are definitely going to be the very last to know. And since Spencer and Y/N happen to be surrounded by the best profilers in the country, the rest of the team is, of course, the first to piece together the romance. Little by little, bit by bit, the team solves the case of Spencer and Y/N.” -> i constantly go back and reread this fic… it means so much to me!

work wife by @differentkettleoffishalltogether • “Spencer can’t help but feel a little jealous when it seems like his best friend is interested in someone else.” -> best friend spencer & love confessions? yeah that’s what i like.

Aaron Hotchner

dream a little dream by @ssahotchswife • “Following an injury, the reader dreams about time spent with Aaron Hotchner and his son. She relives heartbreak about Aaron's relationship with Beth and the love she has for Jack. Aaron must come to terms with his feelings for the reader when she wakes.” -> aaron hotchner is my comfort man and this fic makes my chest ache

NSFW

just friends by @/bucksfucks • “you and chris are just friends, right?” -> chris evans please i’m free on saturday

forbidden fruit by @/bucksfucks • “you attempt to set your ex’s things on fire. bucky has a better idea.” -> dadsbestfriend!bucky has my heart and it’s literally because of nora’s writing

appointments by @buckycuddlebuddy • “bucky barnes, finally being able to live freely in 21st century, accidentally gets a fuck buddy and starts to rediscover himself. the only weird thing about this situation is that you have to make an appointment to get railed by him.” -> ooooooooof i love this lil series so much

— ➶ —

these are all of my summer reads!!! i’ll definitely post another one after fall semester, this will most likely be a seasonal thing.

[lostinthewiind]

Could I get a bit of an angst poly Matchablossom fic? Like one of them is out and they don’t hear anything from them in awhile. They get worried and have to rush to the hospital when they find out they were involved in a hit-and-run. They have flashbacks of their relationship like how the three met or when called their relationship official.

Polyamorous Relationship w/ Joe & Cherry: Through Thick and Thin

A/N: you absolutely can have a little bit of angst. Honestly, I sometimes can't decide whether I like writing smut or angst better . . . I think it's because they are both so emotion-fueled, which makes it easy to get into. Anyway, I hope I was able to meet your expectations for this fic! As always, thanks for requesting and don't hesitate to request more in the future :)

Rating: Mature

Warnings: angst, mentions of bodily harm, injuries, blood, high-emotions, slight-trauma

Pacing back and forth from the kitchen to the living room of your shared apartment, your eyes kept flickering toward the clock on the wall, your nerves steadily increasing with every tick of the hand. Every second that Joe didn't walk through the front door made your heart race faster and your bite on your lower lip to increase in pressure.

"Are you going to pace all night?" Cherry looked at you from his desk, his golden eyes scrutinizing your every move from over the top of his laptop.

"Kojiro was supposed to have been home an hour ago," you stated harshly, as if your calm, pink-haired boyfriend didn't already know that. "And he hasn't texted or called or anything. I'm worried."

Cherry sighed before closing his laptop and leaning back in his chair. "I can tell," he noted, his seemingly relaxed demeanour making your hands shake from frustration.

Halting your pacing, you crossed your arms over your chest and exhaled slowly. "Kaoru . . ." your voice was quiet and shaky, and despite the slight embarrassment you were feeling for what would probably be a major overreaction on your part, you just couldn't help it.

Cherry shook his head at you slowly, but there was no disappointment or mockery in his action. Even though he didn't see any cause for concern considering it had only been an hour and Joe's restaurant was busier lately than usual, he acknowledged the worry coursing through your body.

Spinning his chair to face you, Cherry cocked his head ever-so-slightly and outstretched his arms onto the chair's armrests, palms up, silently asking/inviting you to come to him.

Gravitating toward him like a magnet seeking stability, you shuffled over to his chair, standing before him and trying to calm yourself. Leaning forward, he rested his hands on your hips, brushing his fingertips up your sides. When he reached your shoulders, he worked his hands down your arms, wrapping his slender fingers around them and unfolding your arms before holding your hands in his own.

"There is no sense in worrying until there is something to worry about," he said simply, pulling you into his lap. Once you were close to him and enveloped in his embrace, you felt your breathing naturally slow to match his.

"I know. You're right." You rested your head on his shoulder and closed your eyes as he brought one hand to your face and brushed some loose strands of hair out of your eyes. "You're always right."

Cherry chuckled lowly. "Well, maybe not always . . . don't tell Kojiro I said that," he warned jokingly.

"Okay," you laughed as well, feeling the nerves begin to flee your body, "I won't."

"Good girl."

Just then, Cherry's phone buzzed atop the desk, startling you both a little. Looking over at the device, Cherry smirked as he picked it up. "See?" He flashed the caller ID toward you, which read Kojiro's name. "He probably just got busy and lost track of time."

You felt relief wash over you like a wave as you lifted your head from Cherry's shoulder so he could answer the call.

Accepting the call, Cherry pressed the device to his ear and tutted his tongue. "You ever hear of calling or texting if you're going to be-" he stopped mid-sentence, his toying expression turning stone-cold in a split-second. You couldn't hear what the person on the other end of the call was saying, but all you had to do was look at Cherry's wide eyes, furrowed brows, and trembling lips to know that it wasn't Joe and that something was wrong.

Suddenly, the wave of relief had transformed into a dark, ominous riptide, dragging you into the darkest parts of your mind and forcing you to conjure the worst things possible. Hands gripping tightly to the front of Cherry's yukata, you willed the conversation to be over so you could find out what was going on.

"Yes." Cherry nodded, the arm that was wrapped around your waist squeezing you tighter as he listened intently. "Yes, I'll be right there . . . okay, thank you."

When the call finally ended and Cherry put the device back down onto the desk, his hands shaking like yours had been minutes before, you watched him closely. He was silent afterward, his hold on you tightening even more. Both his and your own breathing were rapid at this point, the nervous energy radiating off of both of you and only working to make the other person even more uneasy.

"Kaoru." You brought a hand to his face and forced him to look at you. "What happened? Is Kojiro okay?"

Seemingly snapping out of his trance, Cherry gently pushed you off of his lap before he set about collecting things from around the apartment. You could see the cogs turning in his head as he grabbed the car keys from the counter before turning back to pick up his phone once more. All the while, you watched him, a sick feeling rising in your stomach, increasing in intensity the longer you stood there oblivious.

"Kaoru, what happened?!" you asked again.

Cherry glanced up at you in passing as he headed toward the bedroom. "There was a hit-and-run," he said. "We have to go to the hospital."

You felt your heart shatter and sink at the same time, your hand frantically gripping the side of the desk for stability as you watched Cherry's pink head disappear into the bedroom. The pace of your breathing quickened, if that was even possible, and you swallowed a hard lump in your throat—out of everything your brain had imagined, something as bad as a hit-and-run never even crossed your mind.

"D-did Kojiro hit someone or was h-he hit?" The question flew out of your mouth as quickly as it popped into your head. The way that Cherry was reacting already had you assuming which answer was correct, but you felt the need to clarify nonetheless.

Cherry, who was moving from surface to surface, looking for God-knows-what, ignored your question once more—although it was probably fairer to say that he had simply not registered the inquiry instead of ignored it.

The blatant lack of information was slowly started to boil your blood but the last thing you wanted to do was lash out at Cherry, who was clearly going into panic mode.

As your boyfriend passed in front of you, his head on a swivel, you grabbed him by the arm and pulled him in forcefully for a hug. Wrapping your arms around him tightly, you buried your face into the crook of his neck. At first, Cherry stood stiff in your embrace, but after a moment or so he physically relaxed and melted into your warmth.

You heard him draw in a shuddering breath, his shaking hands slowly coming up to cling to you. As much as he pretended to be indifferent towards Joe, you knew that he cared for him more than anyone else in the world—maybe even more than he cared for you, which you weren't offended by; you knew the two had a long history with one another.

Once you could tell that Cherry had calmed down a little and the roles of worrier and supporter had shifted, you drew back and looked him in the eyes. "Did Kojiro hit someone or was he the one who was hit?" you questioned, surprisingly steadier than before.

Cherry blinked back a tear that was forming in the corner of his eye, his lips trembling as he struggled to form words. "H-he was hit."

━━━━━━━━━━━━

The half an hour it took for you and Cherry to collect your things and drive to the hospital was nothing more than a blur in your mind. Weaving in and out of traffic through the busy, lit-up city, Cherry mumbled details from the phone call to you as they resurfaced in his memory. All in all, he didn't know much, but restating the facts to you—or more accurately, to himself—helped keep his head on straight and his wits about him.

As soon as the two of you reached the hospital, you parked—not even really checking to see if you had parked in a designated spot or not—and rushed inside, hand in hand. The emergency room entrance had been the closest, but the inside was chaotic and had you clinging to Cherry like child afraid to lose their mother as the two of you pushed your way to the reception desk.

Cherry did all of the talking, refusing to let anyone else see him the way you had seen him back at the apartment. Once again, the roles of worrier and supporter had shifted—but at this point, it was probably more accurate to state that you had each taken on both roles, worrying relentlessly and being there for support when the other person started to spiral.

Thankfully, the nurse at the reception desk was kind and patient with the two of you. She understood that standing around talking about specifics was the last thing either one of you wanted, but she worked carefully to draw out your information so she could direct you to the correct floor.

While Cherry listened as intently as he could to the information being provided, you heard a commotion from the other end of the emergency room and looked back over your shoulder just in time to see an ambulance crew wheeling in a patient on a stretcher.

The patient, a man who looked about Joe's age, was bleeding profusely from a wound on his abdomen and screaming bloody murder about how he didn't want to die. You felt a shiver run down your spine as you listened to his pleas for help.

Without even noticing, you began to picture the man as Joe. Had Joe been hurt as badly as that? Had he been crying and screaming when they brought him in? Joe was one of the bravest and most stoic people you had ever met, and he only really cried (rarely) for emotional reasons, like really sad movies, instead of physical ones—but nevertheless, you couldn't help imagining him screaming out, all alone and scared.

"Hey." Cherry rested a gentle hand on your shoulder, careful not to startle you out of your daze. "You okay?"

You blinked a few times, tearing your gaze away from the stranger. When you glanced back, the paramedics had wheeled him out of sight and his screams grew fainter and fainter in the distance.

"Y-yeah." You forced a nod of the head. "I'm fine."

"Okay, let's go then," Cherry took your hand in his once more and led you out of the ER and toward a set of elevators. "The nurse checked for me and apparently he was taken up to the third floor. She wasn't on shift when he came in, so she couldn't tell me much."

You nodded once more, unable to find your voice . . . not that you had much to say anyway.

In complete silence, the two of you rode the elevator up to the third floor of the hospital, and following the directions Cherry had been given, arrived at a hospital room with the door cracked open slightly.

Before either of you could look inside, however, a tall man in a white coat approached the two of you. "You're Mr. Nanjo's emergency contacts?" He grabbed a chart from the adjacent nurses' station.

After the two of you confirmed your identities and relation to Joe, the doctor pulled you aside privately and began explaining the situation.

"Based on eye-witness reports on the scene, your . . . boyfriend," he seemed a tad uncomfortable with the polyamorous aspect of your relationship, but relayed the information professionally despite the obvious confusion, " . . . he was crossing the street, presumably to the parking lot across on the other side, when he was struck in the intersection by a drunk driver. Thankfully, he was only clipped and not hit full-on. All things considered, things could have been a lot worse, but he is still in pretty rough shape."

You drew in a sharp breath as your mind began to fog over, your concentration completely fading away. Before long, you were simply standing in place, eyes-glassed over, watching the doctor's mouth move but only picking up the occasional tidbit of information like "fractured rib" and "internal bruising".

Noticing your unsteady stance beside him, Cherry snaked his arm around your body for stability. It took everything he had not to devolve into a shaking mess like you, but he knew that one of you needed to pay attention to this information for Joe's sake; so, despite the overwhelming nauseous feeling in his gut, he nodded along to the doctor's words.

Once the doctor had told you everything there was to tell, he directed you back to the room and told you he would be back in a little while. With full visitation rights, you and Cherry stood in front of the cracked-open door, both too terrified to peek inside just yet.

Then, mustering every ounce of courage you had circulating your system, you placing a trembling palm on the door and gave a gentle push. Without a single creak, the door swung open silently, revealing a small hospital room with a bathroom, large window, armchair, and of course, a bed.

In the bed, the white sheets were completely covering the body of its inhabitant; the mess of green hair atop the pillow the only detail that confirmed to you that it was, indeed, your boyfriend. Joe's face was toward you and Cherry, eyes closed, scrapes and bruises littering his handsome features. There was even a cut that had needed stitches on his forehead.

If it wasn't for the slow, rhythmic rise and fall of his chest, you would have assumed he was dead.

"Oh, Kojiro!" you exclaimed, emotion suddenly taking over as you lunged toward the bed. Tears collecting in your eyes, you bent over him and rested your head on his chest, quiet sobs escaping your shuddering body. Finally, you let yourself cry.

"The doctor said he was given some pretty heavy pain medication, so he might be out for a while," Cherry said, coming up beside you and ghosting his fingertips over Joe's cheek. "But he should be okay."

Those five words were the best five words you had heard in your entire life. "He'll be okay," you repeated to yourself in a soft whisper. "You'll be okay." You directed the comment to Joe this time as you ran your fingers slowly through his messy hair. "Karou and I are here now. You're going to be just fine."

"Come on." Cherry placed his hand onto your lower back and guided you to the armchair. "We're in for a long night. Let's sit."

Lowering himself into the rather comfortable chair, Cherry scooted it closer to the bedside before he pulled you into his lap, the two of you sitting and holding each other the same way you had been back home in his desk chair . . . the way you had been sitting before your entire day had turned on its head.

"Don't cry." Cherry wiped a tear from your cheek with the pad of his thumb. "You know that if Kojiro wakes up and you're crying, it'll just make him upset too and then I'll have two blubbering babies to deal with."

You choked a subtle laugh through the sobs and gasps for air. "Shut up." You smacked his chest lightly as you cuddled further into his chest, your actions effectively contradicting each other. "This is the scariest moment of my entire life," you craned your neck to look at Joe and reached your hand out to grab his limp one, "I'm allowed to cry."

Cherry pressed a kiss to your temple. "I understand . . . this is the scariest moment of my life too. When I first picked up that phone call, for a split second, I thought we had lost him."

"I can't even imagine life without him," you said, trying not to let the dark thoughts invade any more than they already were. "I wouldn't be the same person I am today without him . . . without either of you."

Cherry cracked a small smile, the expressions of amusement completely standing out among the solemn atmosphere in the room.

"What?" you cocked a brow, wondering what had suddenly sparked such joy.

"Nothing, nothing . . ." He tried to play it off, but when it was obvious you weren't going to let him get away that easily, he caved. "I was just thinking about the first day we met you," he let out an airy laugh, "stumbling into his restaurant soaking wet from the rain, seeking shelter like a stray dog."

You couldn't help the giggle that escaped. "Oh, God, don't remind me. Of course I picked the only closed establishment with an unlocked door on the entire block to seek refuge in. The way the two of you just stared at me, glasses of wine in hand while I stood there, dripping and embarrassed. I felt like dying on the spot."

"You were cute," Cherry told you before shrugging nonchalantly. "At least, that's what Kojiro said. I'm pretty sure he fell in love with you right then and there."

"Oh, but not you, mister 'keeps all his emotions locked away until he dies'." You rolled your eyes.

Cherry just smiled. "I may not have declared my undying love for you right on the spot, but as you sat in Kojiro's sweater that damn-near swallowed you whole and sipped steaming tea to try and warm up, I could tell you were going to be special to us."

Finding yourself getting lost in the reminiscing of happy memories, you relaxed into Cherry's arms completely. "It's funny that Kojiro fell for me before you did," you looked up at Cherry and pressed a soft kiss to his neck, "because I fell for you before I fell for him."

Cherry quirked a brow down at you. "You never told me that."

"It wasn't by much so I didn't think it mattered . . . especially since I love you both the same now." You shrugged before elaborating, knowing that Cherry wanted to hear the story. "It was when Kojiro insisted we go to that fancy new restaurant that he wanted to scope out but he had underestimated how hard it would be to find parking, so we ended up having to walk like ten blocks."

Cherry nodded. "The area with the busiest, newest establishments was low on parking on a Friday night. Who would have thought?"

"Exactly," you agreed. "Anyway, we were walking and the wind was cold as fuck. I was shivering because, hey, I thought we'd be walking two or three blocks at most. Then, without even a glance in my direction . . . you just wrapped me in your coat. No words, just actions. I fell in love right then."

The corners of his mouth twisting up into a smile, Cherry kissed you softly. "I fell in love with you that same night," he said, surprising you. "Exactly ten seconds after that when you thrust my coat back into my arms, grumbling about how you would have much rather used the adrenaline from strangling Kojiro to keep you warm."

"I hope you know I appreciated the gesture . . . I just didn't want you to think I was going soft or something." You knew the words sounded beyond stupid as they were coming out of your mouth. "Love makes you crazy."

"That it does," he agreed. "But, for whatever it's worth, I've never once thought you were soft. Especially not that night when you were seconds away from killing Kojiro the entire time."

The two of you broke out into soft fits of laughter, careful to keep the volume down.

"I get hit by a car and even then the two of you can't be bothered to say nice things about me?" a weak voice mumbled from the bed.

Laughter dying out immediately, you and Cherry looked over to see Joe smirking up at you, his eyes slightly droopy and hand slightly squeezing yours.

"Kojiro!" You jumped out of Cherry's embrace and moved to place a kiss on the green-haired man's chapped lips. "Are you okay? How do you feel?"

Kojiro winced slightly as he pushed himself up into a slight reclined position in bed. "I think I'm okay," he answered, obviously trying to put on a brave face. "I'm glad you guys are here though," he clocked the glint of concern in your eyes, "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to give you guys a scare."

"Don't apologize," Cherry told him, cupping his cheek with his hand. "We're here for you, whatever you need. We're just glad you're going to be okay."

Kojiro forced a smile, ignoring the aching pain it brought to his bruised and scraped face. "You guys know I love you, right?"

"Of course." You kissed him once more. "We love you too."

[anyoneseenadam]

Hii

Can you please write something for fenrys? first meeting maybe? And the bond clicks? Thank you 🥺🥺

pairing: Fenrys x reader (throne of glass)

warnings: implied smut, kissing and nudity, lil bit of blood and injuries but mainly pure fluff

a/n: fenrys is my fave and u can tell in the fic omg!! i hope you enjoy it cause it’s probs my fave one i’ve written yet :))) (i also made it a teensy bit ddlg but that’s just cause i want Fenrys to baby me lol)

——————————————————————————

Shit

Fenrys pressed his hand to the wound in his side, feeling the slow pump of blood seeping between his fingers as he stumbled through the woods. He had won the fight. The other guy now lying in the dirt, however not without consequence. And he wasn’t entirely sure he would stay alive unless he could find a healer soon.

He stopped to lean against a tree, breathing heavily as he held himself together. He transformed into a wolf, moving faster, and trying to pick up a scent, any scent, that could possibly help him, when he caught the sweetest smell he ever had. It was a female, smelling like peonies and blackberries, sweet but with an underlying smoky smell. She smelled of long days in flowers fields and even longer nights beside campfires, evenings spent curled in hand woven blankets and mornings spent drinking dark coffee and eating sweet toast.

He whimpered and began running in the direction of the scent. If he wasn’t so focused on not bleeding out he may have stopped to consider why the scent was pulling him in the way it did. He would have considered the direction he was running into, the direction of his future, his past and his present. But he just kept up, going as fast as his injured body would allow, concentrating on the sweet smell and putting one foot in front of the other.

He felt the change almost immediately, the cold snow and rough bark being swapped for cool moss. The pine trees swapped for tall, oak trees teeming with life. The silence of a frozen forest swapped for the rustling of bushes as nocturnal animals moved silently under the guise of darkness. The chill of the snow-covered woods swapped for the warmth of a summer evening. He pushed between two bushes and found himself facing a clearing, in the middle of which stood a wooden cottage, the wood dark and the roof covered in more moss, flowers growing from every surface and ivy peeking out of the crevices in the house. He stumbled down the path to the cottage, turning back into a male and crossing a small bridge over a stream that separated him from the intoxicating scent he chased.

He let out what he could only describe as a bark, calling for the female that carried the scent he was growing addicted to, collapsing onto his knees, feeling his conscious fade as he held to the side of his stomach, searing pain replaced by fiery veins as his head swayed. He barely heard the door open, only noticing the scent get so much stronger. He attempted to look up, the movement making his head spin as he collapsed, the last thing he saw, a girl in the halo of the moon.

--

Fenrys awoke in a foreign bed. An unbelievably comfortable bed, but foreign all the same. He pushed up on his forearms, gritting his teeth at the reminder of his wound.

The room he was in was dark, not just in light source, but also in décor. The window was cracked open with lacy curtains half closed, there was a tall bookshelf sat next to a desk with leather-bound books lining it, and tall candles flickering and casting the room in a golden glow. The bed he was in was small, clearly just for one, but so soft. He had blankets surrounding him and copious amounts of pillows, some that appeared hand made. In fact, upon closer inspection, a lot of the room looked handmade. Art covering the walls depicting crying women or bloody scenes that he presumed had been done by the owner of this house, given the pallet and assortment of brushed he saw on the windowsill.

And then there was that scent. It was stronger here and he pressed his face into a pillow tentatively, breathing in through his nose as he picked up on the deeper undertones. Fresh picked daisies, melted wax, the pages of old, worn books and something he couldn’t describe. Something so intoxicating he felt tears spring to his eyes, his body reacting in an unheard-of way, so overcome with emotion from scent alone.

He heard footsteps approaching the closed door and hastily put down the pillow, sitting up straight and readying himself to fight whoever it was if they were an intruder. But when you entered he faltered.

Mate. The word clanged through him as he came face to face with an angel. You were wearing a dark brown broderie dress with white hearts lining the hem, your feet bare and toenails painted black. Your hair was falling around your face, messy and untamed, and you had dark smudges around your eyes, makeup that accentuated your features and made you look like a character from the scary books he read as a boy. However right now you looked more like a teddy bear.

He briefly remembered the tail of a witch he had read. An evil witch who lured men into her house with whispered words and sweet kisses, only to steal their hearts and use their blood to keep her skin young and eyes bright. This girl however was no witch, you had elegantly pointed ears and a graceful way of moving that only came from being Fae. He watched as you moved to his side, silent on your feet, putting a tray down beside him before moving an opening the curtains further, letting in more natural light.

“How are you feeling?” your sweet voice interrupted his thoughts. His mind coming to a halt as he heard you speak.

“I- er fine..?” His voice was rough, and you smiled, a reserved smile. Moving to his side and sitting at the edge of the small bed he was on, pouring him a glass of water from a small decanter you had brought through.

“(Y/n.)” you answered his unspoken question.

“Fenrys.”

He muttered a thanks as you passed the glass to him, noting the crystals that hung around your neck and adorned your fingers.

“Crystals?” he asked, and you looked down, playing with the rings you wore nervously.

“My mother taught me about their meanings, they’ve always helped me.” You bit your lip and Fenrys decided he would never meet anyone as cute as you again, it simply wasn’t possible.

“Me too, my mother used to carry them everywhere.” You smiled at him shyly, a beat of silence passing between the two of you as he listened to the birds outside.

“Can I see your wound? I want it make sure it’s healing properly.” You asked and he nodded, pulling the blankets down slightly, grinning as your eyes widened as you took in his physique.

“I’m presuming you’re the healer I have to thank for letting me see another day.” He flirted playfully but you shook your head,

“I’m not a very good healer I’m sorry, but I did stitch it up and it should do the rest itself.” You pressed gentle fingers against the skin surrounding his wound and he glanced down, seeing it was already practically healed.

“You still saved my life.” He said, completely serious and you looked up at him with wide, innocent eyes.

“I’ll let you rest.” You said quietly, standing to walk away and he smiled, feeling more at ease than he ever had since the war, watching his little mate leave.

--

He woke up again a few hours later, wound completely healed and puckering into a scar. Standing he stretched his arms above his head, not bothering with a shirt as he left the room in search of the girl that had occupied his dreams.

The rest of the house was alike your room, tall candles and worn books everywhere. He passed a kitchen filled with copper utensils and a living room with an old armchair, a half-filled mug left next to it, but still no you. He saw the front door was cracked open and wandered over to it, pulling it open and stepping into the fresh air, barely feeling the chill on his body as he found you kneeling on the moss-covered ground facing away from him.

You were muttering under your breath and as he got closer he saw you were cradling a small bird with a broken wing. He watched as you closed your eyes, the ground and air seeming to still as you called upon your magic, a soft white light flowing from your hand into the bird until its wing was healed and it could flutter away.

“I thought you said you weren’t a healer,” he broke the silence and you turned to him with a small smile.

“I said I wasn’t a very good healer.” You replied, standing with green stained knees, your hair now piled atop your head and lip gloss coating your soft lips.

“What are you then?” he came closer to you, unable to resist holding his mate, even if you weren’t aware yet.

“My mother said we were natural faeries.” You said, looking at him shyly, “we derive our power from the earth, crystals, sea water, dirt, fire, stuff like that.”

He hummed, “So technically you could have any type of magic?”

“I guess, but I’m not very good at magic,” you muttered, hands fiddling with your rings again as he wrapped his arms around your waist. “Fenrys?” you asked, all pouty lips and wide eyes.

“Have you realised yet darling?” he asked, and you bit your lip. He knew he could tell you, but he wanted to hear you say it.

“I- we’re mates I think.” You were practically shaking, and he didn’t know why he suddenly had this burning desire to scoop you into his arms and protect you against the horrible world that was out there. He nodded with a smile, watching as awe took over your stunning face.

“Can I kiss you princess?” he asked, and you felt your face heat up, looking down as he pulled you closer. “Have you ever been kissed before angel?” he asked, his face hurting from the grin that was spreading over his face when you shook your head.

He tilted your head up to his, looking deeply into your eyes as your breaths came out quicker. “Not many people can find our cottage, my mother put up wards when she got ill, our family wasn’t well liked by the king. You probably only got here because we’re mates,” You muttered.

“Can I kiss you?” he asked again, running a soft hand over your head, smoothing your hair away from your face as you nodded sweetly.

He smiled before leaning down and kissing you gently. Pulling away and feeling as smug as a thief when your lips followed his, pouting at the loss of contact so quickly. He chuckled at your put out expression and leaned down to kiss you again, deeper this time, his tongue slipping into your mouth when you gasped against his lips, quickly beating your own in a battle for dominance and taking his time exploring your mouth.

He laid you down that morning and took you for the first time in the soft moss. Then again in your even softer bed. Now you were sitting in his lap, eating strawberries of a bush you had in your back garden as he pressed dizzying kisses into your neck, both of you still as bare as the day you were born, Fenrys having forgot how much he missed skin to skin contact, when you suddenly remembered.

“Fenrys?” he hummed in response, completely enamoured with the feel of your soft skin against his rough calluses. “Why were you hurt last night?”

“I didn’t tell you my job did I angel?” he asked, the pet name making you giggle as you shook your head, “I work for the queen of Terrasen.”

You gasped, “But she was killed!”

“Oh angel, when was the last time you left this cottage?” he asked, worry coming over him as he realised you had been holed up alone for so long.

“Not since my mother died. She said the king was dangerous and that he would hurt me if he found me,” your bottom lip was wobbling and Fenrys quickly kissed it away, shushing you as it dawned on him just how innocent his little girl was.

“No baby, he’s gone now, the new king of Adarlan is a very kind man and the Queen of Terrasen is wonderful,” he promised, “Will you let me take you to meet them?”

You nodded enthusiastically, bouncing slightly in his lap making him groan. He nipped at your ear lobe and you squealed as he pushed you down. You could meet them another day, today he was too busy with his little mate.

[wilteddaisies]

Yours - Chapter One

Azriel x Female!Reader (acotar)

Word Count: 1.5k

Summary: You are Feysand’s daughter and you’ve just come home from your studies in the Day Court. Azriel needs someone with extensive training in magic in order to complete a mission for the Night Court. You happen to be just what he needs.

Fic Warnings: age gap?, probably cursing, eventual smut, wing kink ;)

Chapter Warnings: injury, mentions of blood

Note: The first chapter is here! I am so excited to share this fic. I usually don’t write fanfiction but I just couldn’t get this idea out of my head, so here it is. As always, feedback would be greatly appreciated!

CHAPTER ONE

Gods, you loved flying. Sure, winnowing back to the Night Court would have been faster, but there was absolutely nothing like soaring through the clouds, so high that the ground below faded away and there was nothing but you and the wind in your wings. You sighed as Velaris came into view. As much as you loved the ancient libraries and golden light of the Day Court, the winding streets and twinkling night lights of Velaris would always call you back home. 

Your father was waiting for you in front of your family’s river estate. You landed gracefully before taking off again in a sprint into his open arms. You squealed as he lifted you off your feet and spun you around.

“Daddy!” You laughed as he set you back on your feet, but still held you. You breathed in his familiar scent. “I missed you.”

“I missed you too, sweetheart.” He gazed down at you and smiled warmly. “Your mother is at the studio but she should be home soon.” He picked up your bags and led you inside, prattling on about your mom’s business and the hell Cassian has been raising in the Illyrian camps. The elegant river house was just as you left it in the fall. The familiar lavishly furnished rooms and ever lingering scent of flowers welcomed you home. You followed your father up the staircase and to your room. 

“I’ll leave you to unpack and settle in,” he said, setting your things on the bed. He turned around to place a kiss on your hair. “Welcome home.” 

A welcome home, indeed.

That night, the entire inner circle met at the river house to celebrate your homecoming and the completion of your studies with Helion in the Day Court. The atmosphere was warm and lively in the dining hall, Cassian had no trouble convincing your father to open some bottles of his precious good wine to celebrate. You were happily chatting away with Mor about how difficult it was to focus on your studies with so many gorgeous Day Court males around, when Cassian chimed in.

“Males? What males? What are their names? I just want to talk,” he said with mock intensity. 

“You do know I am old enough to date, don’t you, Uncle Cass?” you laugh. “But anyways, they’re all too intimidated by me. And by who my father and uncles are, of course.”

“Damn straight.” He winked and Mor elbowed him in the ribs. 

“Come on, there must have been someone that kept you company while you were in the Day Court,” Mor insisted, her eyes twinkling with mischief. Even Amren and Nesta looked interested to hear your answer, but your father just tried not to look too invested in your conversation, looking down at his plate in a miserable attempt to look disinterested. 

“Well. . .” you began, trying to steer the conversation away from the truth, which was that you had never actually felt that sort of connection with anyone. Well, no one except a certain broody shadowsinger who was considered very, very off limits. 

Thankfully, you were spared the trouble of coming up with some half-assed excuse when a loud crash sounded outside the manor. Everyone at the table tensed, the mood instantly shifting. The darkened eyes and battle ready stances of your family were quick to remind you that centuries old warriors were beside you. Suddenly, weapons you hadn’t even realised they had concealed were drawn. You should have known that no one in your family would show up anywhere unarmed. Cassian drew a sword from who knows where, Mor and Amren held daggers, and Aunt Nesta just summoned her power, that alone being a deadly weapon in itself. Your mother drew your Aunt Elaine close to her. You could see darkness curling around your father’s fingertips and you followed suit, the familiar tingle of magic in your veins sparking a rush of adrenaline. 

Your father led the way as you all stalked out the front door to see. . . Azriel. You rushed forward, pushing past your father to kneel by a bleeding Azriel. 

“Oh Az, your wing.” Your heart shattered at the sight of his broken left wing, the flesh in shreds. It must have been done with something strong and fast, very fast if it managed to reach Azriel, who was amazingly swift on his wings and with his winnowing. The rest of the circle gathered around him, trying to help him up and assess the damage.

“The mortal queens,” he managed to croak out, “I heard whispers of a weapon they made to rival the fae. And when I tried to investigate it, I encountered the beast that guarded it.”

“That’s enough.” Feyre said, “Let’s get you cleaned and healed up. I’ll summon a healer immediately. You can tell us the rest after.”

“I can help.” You say and everyone turned towards you. Your hands were still shaking and your voice wavered at Azriel’s state but you steeled yourself. “I learned a lot of healing magic while I was in Helion’s court. Let me help you.” You met Azriel’s eyes and it was like he tethered you to earth, the strength and resilience you found in them seemed to flow into you, too. 

He nodded once. That was enough for Cassian and Rhys to haul one arm over each of their shoulders. 

“Where to, boss?” Cassian teased but you found pride in his eyes. And when you looked to your father, you saw the same thing. 

“Get him into my room. I’ll take it from there.”

The inner circle had retired to the river house’s various guest rooms by the early hours of the morning, but you stayed awake, the gentle glow of the healing magic from your palms never faltering even though it had been hours. After Cassian and your father got Azriel onto the bed, you made him a salve from the various powders and tonics you brought from the Day Court that would assist the healing process. Aunt Elaine had even supplied some more supplemental herbs and flowers from her garden. 

They all stayed for nearly an hour after you started the healing spell, watching as flesh and bone slowly knitted back together, when your mother finally ushered them all out, insisting that you needed to focus. You shot her a grateful smile as she also stepped out and shut the door behind her. Now that everyone was gone, you could finally focus on the spell. Well, focus as much as you could with Azriel’s shirtless torso gleaming with perspiration. You would think after training in and mastering healing magic, you’d be unfazed by the male body, but Azriel’s stunning beauty was not something you could just get used to. 

It was nearly two in the morning when you heard a soft knock on your door. Your father’s head poked in.

“Sweetheart, you need to take a break.” He said and wiped a bead of sweat from your brow. You hadn’t even realised you were this physically strained. 

“I can’t, dad. Not until he’s healed.” You turned back towards Azriel’s healing wing when your father’s hands enveloped your own, stopping their magic. 

“Dad! He needs-”

“You’re the one who’s going to need healing if you try to continue this spell without taking a break.” His brows furrowed with concern. You knew what he saw, you must have looked a mess. Hair mussed, dark circles under your eyes, and a near permanent wrinkle on your forehead between your brows from holding your deadly focused expression for so long. 

“I know.” You sighed, giving in. “I suppose I could stop for a moment.” He enveloped you in a warm hug that you hadn’t realised you needed until that moment. “I’m just. . . I’m worried about him, dad. He’s always going off on these dangerous quests with the interests of the court being a bigger concern than his own well being.”

“You’re one to talk.” He scoffed. “What was that you said about putting other people’s needs over your own well being?” He brushed a stray lock of hair from your face and then sighed. “That’s my girl, always so selfless and always so stubborn.” He planted a kiss on the top of your head. “You’re a lot like your mother in that way, you know.”

You reluctantly pull away from his arms. “I know, dad.” You rolled your eyes and huffed a sigh, stretching your back, you just realised that standing over Az for so long had really taken its toll on you. “I suppose I could take a shower and change out of this dress.” You were still in your cocktail dress from dinner, you also realised. 

“Yes, please do. I mean this in the gentlest way possible sweetheart, but you stink.” You halfheartedly shove him out of the room. 

“Gee thanks, dad. It’s no wonder how mom fell for that suave charm.” And you shut the door in his face, but not before catching his teasing smile that only he could pull off, somehow managing to look loving and full of himself at the same time. You rolled your eyes before walking into your en suite.

Author’s Note: Thanks for reading, I hope you enjoyed this chapter! I promise the next one will have more Azriel and a bit more spice. If you wanna be added to the taglist for this fic, you can leave a comment below :)

I do not consent for my work to be reposted or translated on tumblr or any other site, but reblogs are always welcome!

Taglist: @moonchild-cf​ @pansexual-booknerd​ @huffypuffyme​

[mithrilhearts]

Golden Hearts Bleed Faster

bagginshield | modern royalty/bodyguard au | teen+

Bilbo Baggins, Prince of the Shire, has been left with a kingdom on his back and a ring in his hand after the unexpected death of his parents. Bodyguard Thorin Oakenshield has been brought in to see to the prince’s safety, and do a little investigating of his own on the matter in hopes of coming face to face with the one who turned his mountain, and his life, upside down some years prior.

Chapter 1

Escorted back to Bag End by a comforting hand on his shoulder, Bilbo remained silent. It wasn't a long trek, but long enough that the idle mumblings of Gandalf behind him had become annoying enough. Stepping into the foyer and beginning to shed his soaked suit jacket, while he had done so well in tuning the older man out, it was Gandalf's next statement that jostled Bilbo from his seemingly numb-minded state.

“I've hired you a personal bodyguard.”

“I'm fine,” he protested, and this time with more force to his voice than he liked. "You don't need to worry about me, I can take care of myself. I don't see why everyone is making such a fuss about all of this." Agitated and tired, Bilbo had zero desire to sit and discuss the technicalities of his parents' demise, or what he was going to do next. Gandalf wasn't the first person nipping at his heels regarding what came next, or his behavior, but he was the one who had stuck around the longest.

“The death of your parents is nothing to take lightly, Bilbo,” Gandalf chided, his brows furrowing and the lines on his face seeming extra deep with his displeasure. “You will do well to remember that.”

Happy birthday from me to me all of you! 🎉

I've been working on this fic for SO LONG!!!! More like...daydreaming about it, and then finally got around to actually working on it late last year. I'm so excited about this first chapter finally being released.

Thanks to everyone who has been supportive for this fic since I first posted that plot bunny ages ago!! You really made this happen!

[katierosefun]

always a sith anakin, obi wan rescues him and shows him that there's more of the world than Palpatine and the dark side? 🥺

aaaah, anon HELP, i got SUPER into this, and the way i now want to make this a WHOLE FIC.,,,,,,i got carried away, so here’s 1k words-- // prompts now closed 

The Force apparently worked in mysterious ways, but this was certainly a way that Obi-Wan hadn’t actually anticipated.

Actually, Obi-Wan was fairly certain that the Force was laughing at him now, because there was something especially strange and especially bothersome about being trapped in a literal death room with Anakin Skywalker, of all people. And what was worse, the fact that Obi-Wan was actually the one making sure that his…well, Obi-Wan didn’t exactly want to call him his nemesis, but that was what they were, wasn’t it? Nemeses and all—anyways, Obi-Wan was the one making sure that his nemesis wasn’t bleeding out from the nasty bite wound around his arm.

“Hold still,” Obi-Wan snapped.

“I would, but you’re—ow!” Anakin yelped, tugging his arm out of Obi-Wan’s grip. “You’re trying to make sure I bleed out on purpose, aren’t you?”

“I don’t know where you got that ridiculous notion from,” Obi-Wan muttered, leaning back on his heels. He reached for the opposite wall, tapped at it. If there was some hollow part in the wall…

“After all, you’re the one always trying to get me killed,” Obi-Wan continued, standing up. He patted along the wall, tossing Anakin a halfhearted smirk along the way. “If I weren’t your best chance to get out alive, I would think you’d have killed me a long time ago.”

Anakin didn’t respond, his golden eyes just watching Obi-Wan with an intensity that forced Obi-Wan to look away first.

“Well,” Anakin muttered, “you’re hard to kill.”

“Thank you, I think,” Obi-Wan said. He ducked down, tapped the wall. Not hollow.

“What are you doing?” Anakin asked after a while.

“Trying to find us a way out,” Obi-Wan said, looking at Anakin again. “I would ask you to help, but you’ve made it fairly clear that you find all of my suggestions intolerable.”

Anakin huffed, standing up. Obi-Wan backed away a step, but Anakin just smiled. “Tell me where to look,” he said.

Obi-Wan hesitated. He didn’t trust those golden eyes of Anakin Skywalker’s, not for one second, but he pointed to the other side of the room. At least, he figured, Anakin couldn’t kill from there. Or Obi-Wan would at least be able to see him coming.

Unless he decides to choke me, Obi-Wan thought grimly. Then that would be a different story.

Anakin walked to the other side of the room, kneeling over with another huff.

The two of them tapped the walls in relative quiet, Obi-Wan trying to focus both on the hollowness (or lack thereof) of the walls and Anakin’s movements across from him.

“So is this gonna help us at all?” Anakin asked.

“I certainly hope so,” Obi-Wan murmured.

“Mm.” Anakin tapped a part of the wall. “And if it doesn’t?”

“Then we’ll just have to find a different way out, won’t we?” Obi-Wan asked.

“I guess we will,” Anakin replied. “Or I will.”

“Wonderful,” Obi-Wan said dryly, turning back to the wall.

Another few moments passed before Obi-Wan asked, “How’s your arm?”

A snort from the opposite side of the room. “Didn’t know you cared.”

“Well, I don’t want to have to drag your dead body when I get out of here, now do I?” Obi-Wan asked wearily.

“I won’t die.”

“Unless it gets infected. Which it would, if it’s hurting. So how is your arm?”

A silence.

Then, “It’s fine.”

“Good.”

Obi-Wan heard Anakin tap on another part of the wall—higher, he could just tell from the acoustics of the room. “Tell me, Kenobi,” Anakin said, “do you usually look after your other enemies, or am I just special?”

Obi-Wan didn’t bother turning around. “I thought it only fair,” he murmured. “Seeing you saved me first.”

The tapping stopped.

“I don’t know what you mean,” Anakin said.

“You don’t?” Obi-Wan asked, then shrugged. “It was a few years ago. It’s natural you would have forgotten.”

The tapping resumed, quieter this time.

“A few years,” Anakin repeated. “The gundark cave?”

“Mm.”

“You looked like an idiot back there,” Anakin muttered. “Anyone would have done the same.”

“I’m sure.”

Obi-Wan heard the scrape of boots against the floor and turned around to find Anakin glaring at him. “What’s that look for?”

“Don’t.”

“Now I’m the one who doesn’t know what you mean.”

“I know what you’re trying to do,” Anakin said. “And I’m telling you to cut it out, or else I’ll—”

“Kill me?” Obi-Wan asked. “I think we’ve both established that that wouldn’t be doing any of us any good.”

Anakin fell silent.

Obi-Wan sat down, this time still facing Anakin. Resting his elbow against his knee, Obi-Wan continued, “I wasn’t trying to aggravate you, Anakin. I was only making an observation.”

“Some observation,” Anakin said.

“Well, yes,” Obi-Wan replied. He tried to catch Anakin’s eye. “A few years of this—you know it too. Of course I would have made some observations by now.”

Anakin didn’t say anything. He closed his eyes, dropping his head back against the wall. “I take everything back,” he said. “I shouldn’t have saved you in that gundark cave after all.”

“But you did,” Obi-Wan said simply. “And even now, even with that other beast…there really was no need for you to get bitten, was there? Not if you had just let me—”

Anakin’s eyes snapped open, bright and sickly under the light. “Stop it,” he said, all that sarcasm dropped from his voice. Replaced by an ancient, angry kind of determination that even made Obi-Wan pause. “Do you hear me, old man?”

“If you truly wanted me dead, I think you would have let me die countless times over,” Obi-Wan said quietly. “And if you were a Sith, I think you wouldn’t have minded if I—”

Faster than a blink of an eye, Anakin was suddenly at Obi-Wan’s side, his hand latched around Obi-Wan’s throat. Obi-Wan let out a short cry, but he didn’t dare let himself look away from Anakin.

“I said,” Anakin said in a low voice, “stop.”

Obi-Wan kept his eyes level. “You know it, don’t you?” he managed. “I think you do.”

For a moment, Obi-Wan thought the grip around his throat would tighten—it would be so easy for him, Obi-Wan realized, his heart pounding hard—it would be so easy for Anakin to just squeeze a little harder, and Obi-Wan would be dead within seconds.

But then Anakin dropped his hand, and he stood up, breathing ragged.

“Shut up,” Anakin said. “And just find us a way out of here.”

[tonightthestarsalign]

love you to the moon and to saturn

This started out as a kid!fic because of @thedeathdeelers talking about a juke baby in this post. It did not end up there. It’s much more of a character study I think. In fact this is roughly 2k and 1.5k happen before Julie ever gets pregnant. Idk what to tell you. 

I might try this again sometime and actually write something about the kid, for tonight though, this is all I have. 

That electricity he felt the first time he played the guitar is back, but stronger than ever. He can feel it pulsing under his skin when he looks at Julie. She turns to smile at him and he feels like floating. He just might have been wrong about what being in love feels like.

or: the three times Luke fell in love. 

Luke finds the love of his life at age 11. His parents buy him a guitar for music classes in school and there’s no looking back. He learns the chords the instructor teaches him with the kind of determination and focus that his parents have never seen on him. The boy that can never focus on anything for more than ten minutes suddenly spends hours sitting in a corner and trying again, and again, and again until he can place his fingers exactly the way he should, switching between the chords faster and faster.

The day he finally plays the first melody is burned into his memory for the rest of his life. The feeling of pure joy cursing through his veins is something unlike anything he ever experienced. There’s always the feeling of electricity under his skin, but with his hands on the guitar, it rushes into his heart and makes him feel alive in a way nothing has ever done before. 

He goes home that day, his fingers bleeding from the strings, and tells his mother he found the love of his life. Emily yells at him until her voice gives out. It’s their first fight of many. 

He dies only six short years later and in his final moments he’s glad to have found love, even with how short his life was, because how could something ever surpass the feeling he got when he had his guitar and a song? 

His stomach is cramping, tears are rolling down his cheeks and he is happy he’d gotten to experience the thrill of being on stage, the feeling of people singing his lyrics back to him. How could something have ever made him feel more?

He gets a second shot at life, or at least something close to it, when they tumble from the black room into their studio. Technically the studio is the same, the changes are slight, but noticeable. The plants all over the space, the chairs on the ceiling, their instruments missing and the cute girl register in his mind, but he doesn’t really care. He is back here by some magic and he is going to use his chance. When Julie tells them that it hasn’t been an hour but 25 years, he does falter for a moment. Why would the universe not only give them a second chance, but why 25 years later? 

Not soon after he finds out they can still play and people can hear it and all the questions go out the window. What does it matter why he is here? What does it matter if he isn’t actually alive, when he can still do the thing he loves most?

The next morning he hears Julie sing and something in the back of his mind tells him that he was wrong. Maybe he wasn’t actually in love with music. Julie sings and his heart that has been silent ever since the black room, throbs once in his chest.

In the following days they spend an intimate moment in the kitchen, sing together on stage and write songs together and that little voice in the back of his mind gets louder and louder. It gets to the point where he can barely ignore it anymore. 

She tells them how important the school dance is and Luke in all his rage and thirst for revenge ruins it. They go  to Caleb’s club and miss her dance. He looks at Julie’s disappointed face when they finally make it to the school and the pain in his chest comes close to the night he died. He feels like the worst person in the universe.

Somehow, she forgives them. He’s not sure he deserves it. But he is slowly but surely realizing Julie Molina is a better person than him and so of course she forgives him for hurting her. 

It’s when they are at Eats&Beats and they sing about knowing they can make it and closing their eyes when his heart throbs once more. Julie’s voice rings through the room and the words echo in his head. He looks at this girl that he’s only known for a couple days really, and he realizes that that little voice might have a point. 

That electricity he felt the first time he played the guitar is back, but stronger than ever. He can feel it pulsing under his skin when he looks at Julie. She turns to smile at him and he feels like floating. He just might have been wrong about what being in love feels like. 

Even though she has forgiven him, his little stunt with Caleb almost costs him dearly. The jolts keep getting worse and when he finally tells her about what’s happening, she looks at him with wide, sad eyes and it breaks his heart. He swears to himself that we will do everything in his power to make sure she nevers looks at him like that again. 

They try to save themselves by performing at the Orpheum and it’s a n incredible rush to stand there on stage, to do what he never got to do while alive but the second they take their bow, he realizes that it didn’t work. 

Julie finds them later that night, on the ground of the garage where they poofed to because they have nowhere else to go. She begs them to take Caleb up on his offer and on her face is that same look that he never wanted to see again. He pushes up on his feet and walks up to her and tells her that no music is worth making without her. 

And really, while once upon a time he thought music was the love of his life, he now looks at this fiery, beautiful girl and knows, that while he no longer may be technically alive, he is much more in love with her than he ever was with music. 

But then again, it is hard to say where music ends and Julie begins. 

Julie throws herself at him and he doesn’t even think about it as his arms come up and catch her. It’s a couple moments before he notices that they’re touching. She pulls back a little, and it’s like a magnetic force that makes him follow her. If he could, he’d never let her go again.

It’s only later that night, that he realizes his heart is beating again. 

He gets an actual second chance at life because the person he loves more than anything pulled him back from the death. 

She kisses him the next night, on her porch underneath the starlight. It’s still fascinating to him that they can touch, so when she steps closer and takes his hand, his breath catches. She tugs softly on his hand, until he stumbles a step forward, right into her space. There’s only inches between them, and she has to tip her head back a little to look into his eyes. He never realized how much shorter she is.

She looks up at him with those wide brown eyes and smiles. 

“I’m going to kiss you now.” She whispers softly and all Luke can do is nod. Julie pushes up on her tiptoes and then their lips are touching. 

It’s not Luke’s first kiss, not by far. But it feels like it’s the first one that matters.

The sky is full of stars, but the brightest one is right here in his arms.

Afterwards everything happens so quickly that even looking back it feels like only moments passed. 

Ray gets them set up with passports and social security numbers so they can go back to school. Andi Park calls again and they end up with a contract and a label. ‘Stand Tall’ gets released as a single and hits no. 2 on the Billboard Hot 100. Half a year later, in the middle of Luke’s senior year they drop their first album. They spend the summer touring. Several more tours and albums follow and by the time they’re hit their early twenties all of them are set for life. 

Julie and him get married one autumn afternoon. The ground is dappled in flickers of light from the sun passing through the colorful leaves. Julie is the most beautiful thing he has ever seen. The simple white dress looks ethereal against her skin. Her curls tumble down her shoulders and Luke can’t believe she chose him. 

He stumbles through his vows, cries at Julie’s and slides the ring on her finger with a ridiculous smile on his face. Alex, Reggie, Carlos and Flynn whoop when they kiss at the end of the ceremony. Ray is smiling, his cheeks wet from tears. It’s everything. 

They buy a house a couple weeks later. It’s close to the shore, with a nice backyard for the puppy they adopt. Biscuit is a golden retriever and when she looks up at Luke in the shelter from where she’s hiding underneath a blanket, he knows he’s taking her home with them.

They get two rocking chairs for the porch where they spend their evenings with Luke’s acoustic and their shared songwriting notebook.  

Julie tells him she is pregnant two years later. Luke cries. 

Elena Rose is born in the middle of the night a couple days before christmas. Luke looks at the little bundle on Julie’s chest and forgets to breathe. His heart thumbs in his chest. His wife’s hair is pulled back in a messy bun and she is obviously exhausted. She looks the most beautiful he has ever seen her.

Slowly he steps closer. Elena is sleeping, her little fingers flexing against Julie’s skin. Her face is a little scrunched up and there’s a tiny tuft of dark hair on her head. He looks down at this living being he created and feels like his heart might burst. She is barely a person and still he loves her. He loves her so much it could span eternities and galaxies, life and death.

“She’s gorgeous.” He mutters. 

“I know.” Julie smiles. “Come here.” She pats the bed beside her and Luke is all too willing to slide in next to her. 

“I can’t believe we made her.” He says. 

“You want to take her?” Julie asks.”I’m going to be falling asleep pretty soon.” She doesn’t even wait for his answer, instantly passing over the little body. He doesn’t even get the chance to hesitate before she’s in his arms. Julie drops her head on his shoulder as he settles Elena on his chest. 

His daughter opens her eyes and looks up at him with wide blue eyes. His heart swells in his chest.

They get to take her home two days later and Luke puts her down in her crib. She’s wiggling a little, her hands and feet moving in her sleep. 

He leans against the door frame to his daughters room and watches her sleep, still unable to believe that he brought this life into the world. There’s a melody in his head and he’s itching to write it down, but can’t bring himself to look away from her for even a minute.

Julie steps up next to him, leaning against his side. 

“I never thought I could love anything more than you.” He admits quietly.”But she’s…”

Julie smiles. “I know what you mean.” 

He presses a kiss to his wife’s temple. “Sometimes I can’t believe how I got so lucky. I died in 95 and here I am, 35 years later with more than I could have ever wished for.”

“The universe has been kind to us.” Julie agrees quietly.

And as he stands there, with his wife in his arms and his daughter asleep in her bed, he sends a thank you to whoever might be listening. 

[sugarbooger513]

𝓔𝓿𝓮𝓻𝓵𝓪𝓼𝓽𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓒𝓱𝓪𝓹𝓽𝓮𝓻 𝓞𝓷𝓮

I recently got into Obey Me, and I couldn't help myself from starting an OC fic. I've had a lot of help from my wonderful friends brainstorming ideas for it.

Warnings: Blood, death, war, can be seen as religion slandering, language

Blood. Blood scattered across the lush plains, staining the grasses in crimson. Every step she took, she seemed to have to dodge a body on the ground. Her bow, now covered in someone else’s blood, is gripped firmly in her hand.

He isn’t gone yet. Don’t look at the dead. I can save him from this, I can.

A scream from her right makes her whip her head around. Simeon hits the ground, holding his now bleeding arm.

The man in front of him raises his sword, about to finish the fellow angel off. She closes her eyes, pulling the bowstring back, willing the arrow in the correct direction. When she opens them again, the man is on the ground.

“Simeon!” “Aria, dear,” he breathes a sigh of relief as she tears the bottom half of her shirt to wrap it around his bicep, “you saved my life. I seem to owe you.” “Nonsense. This battle isn’t going well on either side.”

Simeon looks down at the man, who is gurgling on his own blood. “You’re right.” He puts the man out of his misery with a swift kick to the neck, forcing the arrow into an artery. Aria squeezes her eyes shut as even more blood sprays her porcelain skin.

She’s uncertain if she’ll ever get the stains from her mind.

“We should get moving, Aria. You look exhausted.” She shakes her head, looking off to the horizon, where more people were meeting their death in an unnecessary battle.

“I can’t.” “Aria, you can’t save him. He decided-” “Enough, Simeon!”

The two angels lock gazes. Simeon’s ocean eyes almost make her lose heart, but thankfully he looks back to the battle.

“You’re as stubborn as he is. You know that, right?” Aria laughs softly, nudging her dear friend. “Of course I am. How else do you expect me to love him? Go get treatment. I’ll find you when this is over.” He nods, picking his sword up from the ground. “May the heavens guide you, Aria.” He runs off, leaving her to stare after him.

“May they guide us all, my friend..”

Her feet move faster the closer she gets to the worst of the battle. Angels on both sides fight each other mercilessly. Friends on both sides fall to their knees, dying gruesome deaths in front of her eyes.

This can’t be what he wanted. Not what either of them wanted. He isn’t this evil.

“Ah! So you’ve finally joined the shindig, have you?” She points her bow at the voice coming from behind her. The golden eyes are so cold, so unfamiliar, that they make her lose her breath.

Diavolo holds his arms open, waiting patiently in front of her. “Aria, my dear, there’s no need for it to get violent between us.” He takes a step forward, making her step back. “D-Diavolo, what is the meaning of this? You said it wouldn’t come to this!” “He refused to listen, so he must be punished. Isn’t that how it goes? We teach lessons here, I thought.”

“You’re insane! We don’t murder innocents!” “Insane? They struck first! Threatened to throw us out!”

“What else were they supposed to do?! Allow you to tarnish all we have here?!”

“Naive as always, Aria. I thought this would open your eyes.” A tall man with charcoal hair steps from behind Diavolo. His eyes look identical to the blood splattered across his white clothing. Even his wings were drenched crimson.

“L-Lucifer! There you-” He holds his hand out, sending out a blast of some weird energy to knock her away from him. “Do not talk to me as an equal. You made your choice.”

She blinks in shock at the man. “Lucifer.. You.. really are a part of this?” He scoffs, walking a bit closer to her trembling form.

“You know my father and I never saw eye to eye.” “But to kill your friends? To kill the ones who love you? This isn’t like you, Lucifer.” His once charming smile fills her body with dread. Who is this man?

“You never knew me, obviously.” “I know you better than anyone else. Don’t play that game.” His dark eyebrow twitches in annoyance.

“Just like my father. You’ve never learned to shut your mouth!” Another blast of energy hits her in the diaphragm, knocking the wind from her small body.

When she finds her words, both men are towering over her. “H-he loves you L-Lucifer.. You know he-” Diavolo kicks her side, making her yell out.

For a split second, Lucifer’s eyes widen in worry for the girl in front of him.

Diavolo looks over at his second in command with a smile. “Do not worry, Lucifer. I won’t put her through what others have endured.” “Thank you, my prince.”

Aria grips her bow, raising it up as the men are distracted. When she fires the arrow, Lucifer’s reflexes are fast enough to catch it in his hand right before it hits Diavolo’s throat.

“Oh, it seems she still has fight left in her. Lucifer, I must make my way to your father. Please, dispose of her.”

Dispose?

“Of course, my prince.” Aria starts scooting away as Diavolo turns, walking away with long strides.

Lucifer glares at her, snapping the arrow in half with a simple move of one finger. “You couldn’t just mind your business? Just hide away? I never wanted it to come to this, Aria.” “It doesn’t have to! He’ll forgive you! Lucifer-”

“Don’t you understand I don’t want forgiveness?!” His outburst silences her. If there’s one thing Lucifer never did, it was yell at her.

His eyes are brimming with unspilled tears as he stares at Aria. He has to do it, but he can’t.

She blinks her innocent, gem-like eyes up at him as he tightens his fists. “Lucifer,” her voice brings a sense of comfort to him, “do what you must.”

He has to choke back the sob in the back of his throat. He shouldn’t let their past get to him! Not when Diavolo gave him a command. Anyone who opposes Diavolo must die. I swore my life to this cause.

But before the cause, he swore his life to another.

And she’s the one looking at him with an undying love as he towers over her.

“It’s time to wake up, Aria.” Her eyes shoot open at the sound of a woman’s voice. She finds the glowing blue eyes in the dark corner of the room. The maid opens the cell door, slowly walking inside.

“You know what today is, right?”

Aria sits up in the cold bed, a sudden wave of despair chilling her bones. “Yes.. judgement day. I know all too well.”

When the woman turns away, she reaches under her pillow for the small stone she keeps. When she rubs her thumb over it, it’s almost as if heat is emitted, and it calms all of her silly worries.

What’s done is done, and now she must face the consequences.

“Are you ready, Aria?”

“How does one prepare to be cast down to hell, ma’am? I’m as ready as I will ever be, I assume.”

The woman tightens the shackles around Aria’s wrist before leading her out of the cell. Guards line the corridors, bearing spears and swords in case she lashes out.

She couldn’t take them all down by herself. She isn’t a fool.

Once the large wooden doors open, Aria dips her head, hoping no one can see the fear in her face. She had always been told eyes are the window to the soul, and hers were some of the most open.

“Aria Eridani,” the booming voice in front of her has her trembling, “you are brought here today to receive judgement for your crimes against our lord. What say you?”

She finally looks from the ground, her coral irises burning with passion. “Where is he? If someone is being dealt judgement, they should at least meet the man delivering it, don’t you think?”

The angel on the stand scowls, giving her a look that used to terrify her. Now her chest fills with anger when staring at the man.

“Our lord is busy with things that do not concern traitors.” “He’s a coward! He doesn’t like to deal with his problems inside this realm, instead he sends them to hell where he wants them to burn!”

“Yes, where you shall burn along with the seven who started the Celestial War. Scum go where scum belong, child.” “Do not speak of them in that tone! I should never have sided with you people regardless of winning! They knew things I didn’t!” “Weren’t you almost killed by the one you loved, Aria?”

She chokes on her next words. No one ever brought up Lucifer anymore. Not individually.

“He would never.. Never have killed me. He loves me, I know he does. I suggest shutting your fucking mouth, old man.” Swords are raised when she snarls the words out, but the man simply raises his hand, making the guards return to their resting position.

“It’s sad, really. Both of you had such potential as Angels.” “I never want to be lumped in with someone like you again. You don’t teach here. You only punish.”

Her vision flashes white as something burns inside of her. She falls to her knees, groaning in pain. Sweat beads on her forehead, the heat desperate to escape her body.

Is this what falling feels like? Did they make Lucifer endure this?

“Aria Eridani, from this day forward you will no longer be known as an angel. May your soul find peace in the pits of hell, my child.”

Her scream echoes in her own head, then her body feels lighter, as if falling through the air.

Wait a minute, I am falling through the air!

Taglist: @kentosovertime, @katgalle, @roughwithfluff

[trashmenofmarvel]

Branded - Chapter 44

Pairing: Demon!Bucky Barnes x Reader

(This is a fan AU of Falling’s Just Another Way to Fly by araniaart​ . Please check out this incredible series for all of your demon Bucky needs.)

Chapter Warnings: I won't give specific chapter warnings because it would spoil it. Just... brace yourselves. I mean that, truly. The entire fic has been leading up to this moment, so... take a deep breath. It's going to be okay.

AO3

Demonic claws striking vibranium metal reverberated painfully around the room, like a gong being struck directly next to your head. You couldn’t cover your ears because your hands were occupied with clutching your shirt, helpless to do nothing but watch as Rogers tried to fight off the Winter Soldier.

And he was losing. Each slash kept Rogers on the defensive, holding up his shield to ward off the next brutal attack. Bucky was ruthless and far faster than Rogers was equipped to handle.

It wasn’t long before Bucky managed to land some blows. Talons left trails of bleeding scarlet, whether from his hands or feet, and even his wings had managed to buffet Rogers more than once.

Bucky’s tail, fast as a whip, grabbed for something at Rogers’ hip. A pistol, yanked out of its holster and deposited into Bucky’s grip, he fired several shots at Rogers who barely managed to get his shield up in time. When the clip was emptied, Rogers bashed it out of Bucky’s hands, following it through with his first solid punch.

Bucky didn’t so much as stumble. Instead, he ripped Rogers’ shield out of his hands, threw a pointed, ridged elbow into his face, and sent him rolling backwards across the floor.

Zemo had remained quiet for the fight, but now he moved closer, a glittering hunger in his eyes.

“It seems you have met your match, Captain. And it turns out, even you can bleed. How nice to find a flaw.”

Rogers rose to his hands and knees, glaring up at Zemo as he wiped blood from his mouth. He gained his feet and held his hands into fists like a pugilist.

“I can do this all day,” he quipped, giving a bloodied smile that was all sharp and no humor. He looked exactly like Bucky had in the HYDRA torture video.

That’s what finally snapped you out of it and got you moving.

Bucky was also on the move, striding toward his friend like a hunter stalking prey, and then he delivered a savage kick to Rogers’ face.

Rogers crashed against the wall behind him, hitting it hard enough to slightly bounce off before collapsing onto his knees. He wasn’t going to win this, and from the pained expression, he knew it, too.

Bucky descended on him. You got there first.

Placing yourself squarely between them, you braced your hands in front of you as if to physically stop Bucky.

Surprisingly, he did, head slightly tilted like a curious animal.

“Bucky. Bucky, please, listen to me.” Your hands shook but somehow your voice was steady. “I know you can hear me. I know, because I’ve been there, with you, in your head when you’re him. The Soldier. He’s just another part of you, Bucky. You’re still in there.”

He simply stood there, immobile as a stature except for his tail. It twitched, restless and agitated, different from its controlled, languid movements during the fight.

But he wasn’t moving. He was listening. There was a chance.

“You can feel it, can’t you? Here.” You touched one hand to the middle of your chest. “Zemo tried to break the bond, but it’s there. Faint and dim, but I can feel it. You must feel it, too. Please, Bucky. Fight him!”

Tears flooded your vision and your throat burned.

“Come back to us.”

Eyes as cold as eyes didn’t so much as blink. If Bucky heard you, he gave no sign of it.

“You gotta get out of here,” Rogers said from behind you. He could barely speak, and a glance over your shoulder told you he was holding a particularly large gash across his stomach. “Go! I can take care of myself!”

You ignored him and faced the demon standing before you. You weren’t leaving Bucky to face his worst nightmare all alone. You weren’t leaving him to be someone’s pawn again. And you definitely weren’t leaving him so he could kill the only other person he loved.

All you could hope was that the animus still tied you to Bucky, and that he wouldn’t harm the human he was bound to.

It was a huge gamble, but there were no other cards to play. Everything depended on whether you could reach Bucky. Not a human slave reaching out to its master.

You needed Bucky.

“You belong to me, Barnes,” you whispered.

You somehow got your legs moving and walked forward until you were standing right in front of him.

“And I belong to you.”

Bucky said nothing, his eyes gaze on you in their entirety. Meanwhile, Zemo appraised you for a long moment, his expression unreadable.

“Kill her.”

Bucky raised his demonic arm, claws extended. You didn’t move.

Even as your heart raced and your limbs trembled, you didn’t move.

The arm didn’t come down. Bucky stayed like that, poised to strike while you braced for the killing blow.

But his eyes. The icy blue searched your face, brows pulled into a confused line, and there was a faint glimmer of something within their depths.

He slowly lowered his arm.

“Sergeant, what are you doing?” Zemo glanced between you and Bucky, his expression darkening. “Obey my command! Kill her!”

Bucky’s ears twitched but his focus was completely on you, eyes narrowed and blinking, as if on the verge of remembering.

It was enough for hope to surge through your limbs, and you couldn’t help but give a small, timid smile.

Studying your expression, Bucky seemed dazed, his eyes widening, and his lips parted as he said your name, raw with roughness.

It was the most beautiful thing you’d ever heard.

Zemo clicked his tongue.

“Pity.”

You didn’t understand; Zemo sounded more annoyed than angry. Bucky also frowned, and began to turn to face the man who had enslaved him.

It was when Bucky turned just far enough that his left arm was no longer shielding you that Zemo pulled the pistol from his holster.

You didn’t hear the shots. You didn’t see the flash of a muzzle, either. But you were still knocked backwards by a brutal force ripping through your stomach, and then next thing you were looking at was the vaulted ceiling and the lights glittering above you.

They were oddly beautiful.

You expected the floor to be as cold as the table, but you were wrapped in something warm and strong. A familiar silhouette leaned over you, blocking out the lights with a pair of curved horns and brown hair, and you had an eerie case of déjà vu.

Had it all been a dream? A hallucination? Had you imagined the whole thing and was Bucky only now rescuing you?

No. It wasn’t a dream. Bucky’s face was etched in unimaginable horror. He gripped one hand tightly with his armored claws, the other pressed against your stomach. You could barely feel it, feel any of it, past the cold wetness, as if you’d tumbled into a frozen pond and you couldn’t get warm again.

You opened your mouth to say his name, but nothing came out. Bucky shook his head frantically, and looked somewhere over his right shoulder as he yelled for Rogers to find the fucking sorcerers.

You tried once more, but only a gurgling noise came out. Your mouth filled with iron. It was getting harder to breathe.

“It’s okay, sweetheart, it’s gonna be okay, you’re gonna be okay, you’re gonna be okay—“

He repeated the mantra but the tears in his eyes alarmed you. It was bad. It had to be for Bucky to look at you that way.

You tried to lift your head to look down, but Bucky told you not to, his large hand still pressed to your stomach as he pulled you close. He was so warm, his scent earthy and alive, but it wasn’t enough. The world was beginning to fade at the edges. You were so tired.

“No, no, don’t close your eyes, don’t—please, please look at me.”

You wanted to obey him, if only to show him you were fine and he had nothing to cry about, but your eyelids were like iron weights.

Trapped in darkness, the cold numbness was winning, robbing you of your connection to Bucky. All that was left were the sounds of his muffled sobs. It was agony to listen to, but you couldn’t find him in the dark.

All that was left was the fading golden thread, and the slowing beat of your heart.

And then, that too, was gone.

***

You were immediately assailed by heat and stinging wind.

You shielded your face as you sat upright, drawing your shirt up to cover your mouth on instinct. The air was so dry and hot it hurt to breath, and when you opened your eyes, you immediately wished you hadn’t.

There was nothing beyond the endless dune of red.

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