#i have endured yet still they win

[gaymedievaldruid]

Okay so normally I'd say something along the lines of "the Bifrost Incident has no right to go so hard" but no. You know what? It has all of the right and every single one of us knows it. Catch me sobbing my eyes out at Sigyn, catch me cheering at Expert Testimony, catch me shocked to silence at red signal into Ragnarok, catch me enthralled every single time from beginning to end, catch me adoring lyf with my whole heart catch me obsessing over certain lines that just Hit catch me determined to learn whole songs catch me dreaming about the stage play that will never happen catch me making my whole life about this album

And I thought tma had me bad

[iniziare]

Re-tag drop: Yelan

[hollandsfavbabe]

Wet & Wild

pairing: art donaldson x reader

synopsis: in which you, a swimmer, and art, a tennis champ, change each other's lives for the better when you challenge his match-like stance on life

warnings: smut build up, porn with a plot, making out, cursing, frat party, art being stupid, happy ending dw, two parts because I cannot condense my writing for the life of me

word count: 4.0k

masterlist

“Swimmers…”

You curled your fingers around the rough end of the diving board, unconsciously holding your breath as you readied for the starting noise. The pool glinted below you, reflecting light from the glaring sun above that sparkled like the blue glitter polish on your toenails. But you ignored it, blocking out anything that wasn’t the signal as you lowered your neck.

“Take your marks…”

There it was. You tensed as the official hovered her finger over the mic button. She was about to send you off and there could be no hesitation once she did. Any second now.

“GO!”

You were already under as the crowd started cheering. Two laps,100 meters, that’s all that it took and you had already conquered a quarter of the length by the time you came up for your breakout strokes. You cut through the smooth pool surface leaving white water waves in your wake. You tried not to let your gaze stray anywhere away from the tiled black line at the bottom of the pool as you felt the competition slipping behind you.

As the wall comes into view at the other end of the 50 meter pool, you take your first breath of the race and pause your strokes for only a second to perform a nearly perfect flip turn. You only have one more length back before it’s over and you can claim the medal that is rightfully yours as you come up from your last breakout. Arms pulling and legs kicking almost frantically, you’re almost there, so close you can sense the touch pad waiting for you at the end. You zoom past the flags and…

“I can’t believe I lost by less than two tenths of a second!” you groan, taking a swig from the Heineken one of your teammates had handed you when you arrived earlier. More than 12 hours had passed since your race and yet you couldn’t stop thinking about your unexpected loss. It had plagued you still as you had made your way to the party a random fraternity had thrown, though your team considered it a celebration after the Stanford swim team took home another champion title. It was small in comparison to the larger meets you had won in the past, but it was a reason to stay out past the curfew your coach imposed on you. And any reason to stay out was good enough for you.

“You’re not actually upset about that, are you?” Chloe asked, one of your teammates who competed in the endurance free events. While you would consider yourself close to nearly every girl who swam with you, Chloe was more of an instant best friend.

You shake your head as she sips on her own beer. Unlike you, she had opted for a brand with a higher alcohol percentage as she was unafraid of hangover ridicule that inevitably awaited her at your next morning practice.

“Of course not. You know me, winning is only a plus. I just can’t believe I got so close to the record!”

It was true. You didn’t so much mind losing the first place prize to the opposing team in such an insignificant meet. What really had you grinding your teeth was the fact that you had only been a half of a second away from the official Stanford record. You weren’t sure where you lost that time in your race, whether it was one of your two breaths or if you needed to dive further out, but you were set on remedying every part of your race until the problem was solved. Your next meet was only a week away and unlike this one, it would be a much bigger deal.

“You got that girl,” Chloe assured you, patting your shoulder in a comforting manner. “Half a second ain’t nothing for you.”

“I hope so. I’m not missing any more practices until I get it.”

Your conversation was disrupted as the room suddenly erupted in cheers, people gathering around the entrance as newcomers entered. You turned your head towards the noise, searching for whoever could elicit such a response.

You caught sight of him right away, a man you had never seen before though immediately prayed you’d never lose sight of. He was tall, his head covered in light blonde curls that were well trimmed to not hang over his hooded eyes. He was attractive, no doubt, but there was more to him than looks. There had to be. Anybody had to be more than attractive to get applause in a place like Stanford, especially within the frat parties.

“Who is that?” you nudged Chloe in his direction. She was normally more up to date than you on the campus celebrities as she didn’t get swallowed up by her swimming commitments as often as you. Chloe nearly choked on her drink as she saw him, turning back to you with a befuddled expression.

“You don’t know Art Donaldson? He’s like the most promising tennis student to ever play here.”

You furrowed a brow, staring at Chloe as if she had said something incredibly stupid.

“Do I look like I watch fucking tennis?” you gestures to your hoodie that clearly bore the words ‘Stanford Swimming and Diving’.

“Let me put it this way,” Chloe started, unoffended as always. “He’s already won the Junior US Open in the doubles category. He got second in the singles and at the rate he almost qualified for the real thing.”

“What’s stopping him?” You asked, looking back in the direction of the man who had now settled on the dance floor with a drink. You sensed a catch in Chloe’s explanation.

“That.”

Chloe pointed to the only television in the house that was conveniently showing a rerun of one of the man’s, Art’s, matches which from the date you could tell happened the same time as your meet. He was amazing, more skilled than any of the few players you had ever watched before, but even you, someone who knew nothing about tennis, could tell that he was playing like something was holding him back. Every ball out of his reach skirted to the fence behind him until he eventually lost. You couldn’t understand how a Junior US Open champion could miss shots that were arguably hard, but reasonable for a professional. There had to be more to it than what lay on the surface and as a swimmer you couldn’t stop the urge to dive in deeper.

“Oh no,” Chloe smirked. She knew you too well to miss when you were after something you wanted. And you weren’t sure by which mystical force you were being pulled, but you started to gravitate away from her. “You’re going to go after him, aren’t you?”

“I’ll be right back, I’m just gonna do a walk around.” you promised, standing from your couch seat beside her, though you were both certain she wouldn’t see you again until practice the next day.

“Good luck.”

You were careful not to approach him directly, instead jumping into a conversation with a couple of your teammates who happened to be chatting in his vicinity. After several minutes of receiving congratulations for your attempt at the record, the group surrounding Art had finally dispersed leaving him alone with his drink on the floor. Lucky for you, by the time he was without a crowd to bypass, your group had moved on to much more nonsensical topics. It was then, by chance or fate as you believed, that he just so happened to bump into you, forcing your drink out of your hand and his attention onto you.

The glass of your Heiniken sank to the group, shattering into a million dazzling pieces of green glass, but you were able to block it out with the focus of a swimmer as you felt his stare on you.

Through the flashing lights you were able to make out the shape of his face better, mapping out sharp jawlines and chiseled cheekbones. You decided then you preferred this Art, the one who smiled at you anxiously over his moving body on the tennis channel and by the slight intrigue on his face, you could tell he felt similarly.

“I’m so sorry,” he professed, looking down at the mess of glass behind you before his blue eyes again met yours “You okay?” He had to shout over the loud music, guilt evidently rushing through him as if he had shoved you to the ground rather than accidentally causing you to drop your nearly empty bottle.

“I’m fine,” you assured him. “Art, right?”

Art nodded, leaning in closer to you so that he could hear you over the blaring club music.

“Do I know you?” he asked, in awe that you knew his name as if it wasn’t being broadcasted all over the Stanford sport program.

“Not yet,” you laughed, pointing to the screen where you had just seen him, watching as a wave of embarrassment washed over him as they replayed the portion of the match where he lost it all, unbeknownst to you. “I was watching your game. You’re really good.”

“You play?”

“Not tennis.” you gestured to the logo on your hoodie, hoping the disco lighting wasn’t enough to distort the clear waves of the swimming logo. 

“Oh wow,” he marveled. “I didn’t even know we had a swim team.”

“What can I say? My sport’s not quite as popular as yours.” you shrugged, shooting him a smile.

“We’ve really gotta get you another drink.” Art pointed out as he took a swig of his own beer.

“Sure,” you agreed. “I just have to take care of this first.”

You turned around to the glass mess that waited for you only to find that your teammates had already handled it in the time you had spent getting introduced to Art, leaving the two of you plenty of time to get acquainted, mess free. You caught sight of them across the room sitting next to Chloe, smirking at you as you looked their way. You rolled your eyes at the sight.

Art had his arm offered out to you when you turned back to him, a guarantee that the two of you wouldn’t get separated on the floor as you headed into the kitchen. It’s there that the seconds fade into elongated hours as you get to know more about each other. You told Art all about your life on the team and why swimming was your calling out of all sports while he spilled to you every tennis affiliated memory from his childhood where you learned he attended a special boarding school for the sport. You made note of his humility as he never once mentioned his success on the Junior US Open and the high level he can play.

You finish the soda Art had gotten for you as the music in the main room increases in volume, forcing you to crane your neck in order to talk in his ear, leaning in so close that you can smell his cologne. He’s not much taller than you, but it’s enough to make a difference.

“I can’t hear anything with this music,” you admitted, speaking at a timbre that’s loud enough to be audible to Art without bursting his eardrums. “Do you wanna move somewhere else?”

You knew Art was joining you when he looked at you with consideration. But it was impossible for you to know exactly what he was thinking, staying ignorant to the fact that he supposed after losing his match and an evening with Tashi due to another scheduled Patrick reappearance, what did he have left to lose? He wouldn’t normally do this, but you look like the perfect contender for a brand new game.

“Let’s go upstairs.” he nodded towards the stairs to your left, accepting your invitation. “It won’t be as loud up there.”

And so you both made your way up the frat house staircase, passing by closed door after closed door until you finally found a vacant bedroom. While you don’t know who lives there, it was tidy enough for you to neglect caring as you followed Art inside and shut the door behind you. 

“I don't think I ever caught your name, by the way.” Art stated as he took a seat on the bed in the center of the room, leaving a space for you beside him..

“Oh, I didn’t say.” you chuckled in realization as you sat beside him, your name falling from your lips as you met the lumpy mattress.

“And this is your reward party?” he wondered, a thought you can’t help smiling at as you shake your head.

“Definitely not,” you took another swig from your bottle. “I don’t think there’s any real reason behind this besides to fuel college memories. If anything, they’d be celebrating you. You’re like famous right?”

Art’s gaze moves to the shag carpet below as he shakes his head of blonde curls, disappointment shrouding his face.

“Not quite,” he disagreed, his eyes meeting yours once more. “I don’t know if you saw the whole thing, but my match today wasn’t anything to celebrate.”

“Why not?”

“Because I lost.”

He stated it like it was obvious which only confuses you as a swimmer. All the work and dedication he must put into his sport all to think there was no yield. You couldn’t imagine basing your pride off of winning and winning alone when there were so many other components to competing.

“So?”

He’s startled by your nonchalance towards losing, something so foreign to him it isn’t even a refreshing take.

“So?” he repeated. “So I failed today. I let my team down. I let Tashi down.”

Tashi. You’ve definitely heard that name before. Though you don’t know much about the inner workers of tennis, everyone and their mother in the state of California knows who Tashi Duncan is. She’s the most famous person on campus, in and out of the tennis world. You didn’t know her personally, only ever seeing her when walking between classes. You also knew she had a boyfriend who didn’t attend Stanford from seeing them eating together. There had always been something off about her and now, with Art beside you in full self-deprecation mode, you figured you were about to find out exactly what it was.

“Is that who you were looking at?” you asked, piecing together that she must’ve been in attendance at his match. He immediately tensed at the mention, surprised you caught the simple detail. “I saw during your match. You looked like you were distracted.”

“It wasn’t just her,” he shook his head. “One of my oldest friends just flew for the weekend. He was there with her.” he paused. “They both saw me fail.”

“I’m sure they were both proud of you.” you assured, but Art was quick to set you straight as his friends didn’t operate the same way yours did.

“No, you don’t get it. I’m nothing if I don’t win.”

“Well it’s okay, you can just try again next time.”

“It doesn’t work like that. That’s not what tennis is about.”

You sensed a planted ideology in his evaluation, causing you to probe further.

“Really? So tennis isn’t just hitting balls with rackets over and over?”

“It’s more than that,” he informed you, taking no offense from your lack of knowledge. “It’s a relationship. It’s about the fight between two people. The back and forth until someone comes out on top. And even then the winning, it’s not nearly as important as the match. I didn’t just lose today, I let the crowd down. And my opponent won without the intensity of a good match. All because of me.”

You quieted as he explained, placing a careful hand on his shoulder as he finished. You felt for him, absorbing his sorrows like a therapeutic sponge, but it didn’t take a tennis expert to understand that bullshit behind his dogma. It sounded more like a manipulation technique than anything, all stemming from the same source.

“Did Tashi tell you that?”

He narrowed his eyes at you, as if your statement was any more outrageous than the lies he had been fed.

“It’s the truth.” he answered.

You weren’t sure how to get across to him, if it was even possible to crash through the wall of his beliefs in the first place, but you knew you had to try. It wasn’t right for him to harbor such disappointment over a match that did nothing to disprove his skill at his sport.

“Okay,” your voice softened as you thought of a way to challenge his theories. “Let’s change the subject. How about I tell you how swimming works?”

“Isn’t it more of the same?” he sighed, still overcomplicating his loss.

“Actually it’s very different.” you corrected.

“What do you mean?” Art asked, looking at you with the utmost intrigue.

“What if I told you that even the losers in swimming end up winning?”

Incredulous of the possibility, Art waited for further explanation.

“See like tennis, we have the players and of course only one person in each race can come out on top, but it’s not about beating the other players. Once you’re out there, it’s just you and the water. That’s the only relationship. It doesn’t matter where anyone else is, beside you, behind you, that’s not what’s not important. All that matters is how well you swim and if you lost a few seconds on the time board. Everything else is lost to the waves. And if your time is the fastest well, that’s just one big fucking bonus.”

Art sat with your words, unable to reply as he processes the possibility of winning as a loser. It’s almost too hard to imagine. You leaned closer to him, breath catching as his eyes moved down to your lips and one of his hands gently gripped your thigh.

“Really?” he asked.

You nodded, your faces so close now that your nose nudged his own.

“I didn’t win today either,” you whisper to him. “But my team screamed when I touched that wall. And do you know why?”

He waited for you to explain, eyes fluttering close for only a second as you laid a palm on his shirt, feeling the hard muscle that lay beneath. Your hands trailed to his sleeves, settling his bare skin a blaze as you take in his equally sturdy biceps.

“I almost beat a school record today. First time in 30 years if I had done it.”

“There’s no records like that in tennis.” he countered, but there was uncertainty in his tone. As if he was waiting for you to further back this new perspective. As if he was really starting to believe it.

“Then maybe you should take a page out of my book. Leave tennis in the past for now and focus on what’s here, in the present…” your lips brush over his before you mutter, “... focus on me.”

You're not entirely sure who initiated it, but before either of you could get out another word, his lips were on yours. You dove head first into the kiss, his lips melting against yours as you swipe your tongue out to catch the lingering taste of cheap beer at the edge of his parted mouth. It’s all so soft, like two cracked dolls who want nothing more than to break for the other until the intensity reaches its peak and you could feel microscopic beads of sweat forming at your brow.

Art pulled you in closer, gentle hands moving to your waist as the faint vocals of California Gurls played distantly in the background. His fingers curled into your sides, worming their way under the hem of your hoodie as they gave way to underlying desire, sparking every inch of your skin that they came into contact with.

You sighed as his teeth sank into your bottom lip. Pausing the kiss, he tipped his head back to jerk ever so lightly on your lip before allowing it to snap back into place and at once you crashed back into mouth, kissing him with a fervor you don’t remember ever feeling this intensely. Every movement, every change in the pace all worsened the heat igniting within you.

You tugged on the blonde roots of his curls that rest closest to his neck and soon enough you felt Art’s needy fingers claw at the waist back of your black athletic shorts. Though you're in desperate need of relief from the growing pool of desire at your core, you knew it was time to pull back. Art didn’t let you go so easy, his lips chasing after yours once you’ve broken the kiss, but it’s no use. You knew you couldn’t do this, at least not tonight.

“What’s wrong?” Art whispered against your lips, automatically assuming that it was his own fault rather than an independent decision of your own. It was certainly too intimate for a man you’d only just met, but you have to cup his cheek to keep from breaking as his own hands part from your skin.

You told him some form of the truth, that you didn’t think the timing was right. It’s not that you didn’t want to, you were dying to sneak another taste of his lips in and give him everything he’s ever wanted right there and then. But you couldn’t. Not when you know that it’s just another match. A distraction from Tashi. Especially not when you know that it didn’t have to be.

“We can’t do this here.”

Art face fell at your words, but he’s never been one to give up so easily.

“Then let’s go back to my place.” he offered, hoping it was just the atmosphere of the party that alarmed you. He wasn’t ready for you to leave.

“No, not tonight.” you frowned apologetically. “Not while you’re playing tennis.”

He stared at you in utter confusion as you stood up from your place beside him, dusting off your clothes as if you hadn’t been enjoying him all along. He didn’t understand the reasons behind your sudden switch, but he’s willing to risk it all in the heat of the moment.

“You want me to quit.” he suggested as if it’s a solution both of you are comfortable with. You turned back to him disturbed, shaking your head wildly at the proposal.

“Of course not, Art, you know that’s not what I mean,” you began, gathering an explanation that you hope will convey your reasons without making him feel like a complete piece of shit. “I don’t know what Tashi told you, but to me it sounds like she expects a winner. She’s programmed you into believing the player doesn’t matter without a title.”

You stepped an inch in his direction, close enough that you can see even the smallest details of his face, but not enough for him to touch you again.

“…but she’s forgetting that without the player, winner or loser, there is no title. Without a foundation, there is no relationship between you and the other player. And nobody can succeed if they’re scared of failure.” you explained further. You knew your words resonated with Art as his gaze turned to the stained carpet of the bedroom, but he had to pass the ball back.

“Well, you said it yourself, you don’t know Tashi.” he fired back, and you knew it’s only the tennis talking.

“You know I’m right.”

Art was silent, only proving your point. You knew you had to leave, but you had to promise him a second meeting, for him and for yourself. You wouldn’t be blocked from a happy ending by wrong timing.

“Come to my meet next weekend,” you invited him. “It’s the biggest one of the year. You should see how other sports operate.”

“I can’t see you before then?”

You almost smiled at the confirmation that his frustration wasn’t directed towards you.

“I have practice,” you shrugged. “- and so do you. You can see me again at my meet and in the meantime, just think about what I said. And know that you’re more than a loser, Art.”

You left without another word, shutting the door while silently cursing yourself for not taking the opportunity while you had it. It was very possible that you would never see the tennis star again, that every spark you felt with him in your first hour of knowing him was entirely one sided. You prayed it wasn’t true, that he had shown some feelings in return, but only time would tell. In exactly one week, you would be certain.

part two out now!!!

[gtgbabie0]

-Aegon Targaryen x Wife!Reader

{Aegon takes pleasure in his cups… and in between your thighs although it’s all the same to him}

!!-18//MDNI-!! I was listening to Amy Whinehouse whilst writing this, enjoy my lovelies💕

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The hour of the bat was well and truly upon Kings Landing, the crescent moon resting against the abyss of the night sky as it casts down a silvery hue that bleeds throughout the Red Keep. With the absence of the sun, you found peace, resting on the velvety divan with a book in hand.

You were lost within the chapters as Aegon paces the length of your bedchambers before collapsing next to you on the divan, leaning up against cushions with a heavy sigh.

“They all belittle me… they all take me for a fool.” He huffs, pointing over to the door of your chambers, still complaining about today’s council meeting with a deep frown. You had already said your piece yet it seems Aegon was not done venting to you.

He looks up to you, opening his mouth to complain about how you ‘need to pay attention to him and not the book’ however the words fall short, dissolving on the tip of his tongue as he stares at you completely star-stuck.

His lips curl into a lopsided grin, the sight of you and the slightly sheer fabric of your nightslip that veils your body, how the fireplace bathes you in a warm orangey light, you had a beauty that captivated him wholly.

“Fuck them… fuck, all of them.” He declares suddenly, although deep down he doesn’t mean the words, not really, you can tell by the way his amethyst eyes flicker with hesitation, glancing down at his fidgeting hands.

“Aegon—” you start, but your words are quickly cut off by him, his rough palm resting against your cheek.

His gaze meets your own, shuffling closer to you, his lips curling downwards in a nonchalant manner. “No, I don’t need any of them, just you.” His words are hushed, only meant for your ears.

With a sigh your eyes soften in an understanding, for you know his only desire is to be admired or at the very least just simply liked. You close your book, leaning over him to place it on the wooden table.

“And you have me, no matter what the future holds.” You reaffirm his words, watching him closely as he lets out a shaky sigh which he tries his best to conceal.

There was an instability in Aegon’s life, save for you, his only constant in a world of ever-changing conditions. Perhaps that is why he clings to you the way he does, arms wrapped tightly around your soft waist with his head nuzzled into the crook of your neck.

“I am not as malleable as they think… I will win, I will burn down anyone who goes against me.” He whispers against the curve of your jaw, confidence weighing against his tone. His hand slips in between the gap of your nightslip to caress your bare waist down to your hip, the cool metal of his wedding band sends a chill down your spine.

He needed a distraction, the pressure from the heavy crown he never asked for was too much for him to endure alone. He needed to not feel like such a disappointment for even just a small moment.

He kisses the small spot behind your ear, an invitation, to which your head instinctively tilts to the side, enticing him to leave open-mouthed kisses along your neck. His lips linger against your pulse point with a small grin, the sound of your pleasured sigh hitting his ears.

“Of course, I do not doubt you, you know that.” You whisper through a shaky voice, steeped in desire. Your body jolts, a soft gasp, at the feeling of his teeth nipping the sensitive skin on your throat before kissing the spot once then twice.

He hums in acknowledgement, pulling back to admire you. His palm still cupping your cheek with a certain hint of possessiveness, it shows in the way he thumbs at your bottom lip. “Hmm, you might be the only one who does, my pretty wife.” He whispers, all of his worries and troubles slowly ebbing away.

The atmosphere around the pair of you suddenly changes, the air becoming so thick that you’re sure it could snuff out the candles around you.

“Yours… all yours Aegon.” The words come out in one breath, tumbling past your parted lips as his fingertips graze along your lower abdomen, slipping through the coarse hair on your mound before dipping past your slick folds.

The rough pads of his finger slides along your slit to collect your wetness before finding your clit, rubbing slow circles against the sensitive bud, testing the waters, as you melt into the divan. Aegon chuckles against your shoulder, enjoying the way your thighs spread and your hips writhe with desperation for more.

He sinks down onto the floor, kneeling between your thighs, ready to pray at the altar of your body. He immediately pushes the silk fabric of your nightdress up past your thighs, letting it pool around your hips.

“I’ve been deprived of you for weeks…” he mutters, leaving marks against your hip-bones, sucking at the sensitive skin, before soothing them with a gentle kiss or two.

You watch his lilac eyes go dark with a carnal craving, the way his hands greedily feel up your thighs, squeezing the supple fat harshly, it all only elicits more gasps and moans from you.

He coos against the inside of your thigh, nudging one leg over his shoulder and propping the other up on the divan to spread out in front of him, the sight of your soaked cunt going straight to his hardening cock. “I’ll be gentle… so gentle.” He smirks, a lie, lips trailing over your inner thighs with all tongue and teeth as your hips buck upwards in anticipation.

He tuts, fingers digging into your hips to keep you still. All too suddenly he’s tugging you closer to him roughly, making you slouch against the cushions of the divan with a shocked gasp.

Your fingers bury within his white choppy hair, pulling him closer to your aching heat as his tongue trails along your cunt, flicking against your clit with a groan. He smirks into your soaked folds, the sound of your whiny moans, the way his name falls from your parted lips in a hunger only he could satisfy, it all makes his skin burn.

“Keep moaning… let me hear you.” He encourages, words muffled against your slickness, lips pressed to your clit, leaving open-mouthed kisses against your sensitive bud trying to elicit more sweet noises from your lips as he hums in delight.

A broken moan escapes you, your hips grinding upwards in tandem with his lips and tongue. “Oh, Aegon… more please.” You cry out, a woman possessed by pleasure.

It is the same possession that causes you to arch your back up from the divan to try and get closer to him. His fingers squeezing into your hips, a warning, his tongue lapping up your desire before teasing your entrance, practically drinking from you as if you were a chalice of Arbor Red.

Aegon flattens his tongue against your cunt, licking up to your clit once more with a muffled moan, sucking on it with delight. “Tastes so sweet…” The vibrations from his words only serve to add to the searing heat that begins to pool deep within your lower abdomen, leaving you a panting mess.

“Aegon, don’t stop… I’m so close.” your hands pull helplessly at his hair, drawing him impossibly closer. He chuckles at your wanton need, how you shamelessly grind yourself against his mouth without a care in the world.

He pushes his fingers inside of you with ease, humming in pleasure at the way your heat sucks in his digits. Aegon fucks you with them you at a tantalising pace whilst licking at your sensitive bud. You look down at him, your mouth agape, watching his head move against you so eagerly as you teeter along the line of release.

“Gods— Aegon!” You cry out his name with a broken moan, your slick walls clamping around his fingers as he continues to curl them deep inside you, still kissing greedily at your clit. He mumbles sweet, loving words of encouragement as he drinks up your orgasm. The wet sounds fill the silence of your bedchambers as you come down from your high with shaky breaths that come out in puffs.

He looks up at you with a cocky smirk, pride blooming through his chest, his lips and chin slick with your release. He pushes himself back onto the divan, leaning over you. “You are truly all I need, all I want.” He whispers feverishly, his fingers wrapping around your jaw to bring your lips to his own.

The taste of you against his lips is all you need to deepen the messy kiss, both of you melting into each other's warmth in a mixture of lust and love. He would take this as long as he could, until you were completely satiated. And even then, he would push for more. He was addicted to you.

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[alllgator-blood]

I call this one "found family but it goes horribly wrong in an irreparable way" :)

I've been doing a lot of cotl comics but I kinda lost my comic making endurance after not working on art since last september, so I made this to help me flex my art muscles. Apologies for the watermarks lmao they kinda kill the mood but I've already had people repost my art when I put it on reddit so...might as well get the credit if my stuff is gonna be reposted regardless. RAMBLE INCOMING!!

Thinking about how shamura was most likely the one to find + raise their adopted siblings and help them survive the mass deicide that happened thousands of years before....OUUGH. I have so many ideas for comics that take place when half the bishops were still lil kids. I have one in progress right now actually. But it just hurts when I remember how it all ends- they loved their family for so long and yet they credit their love as what caused it to fall apart!!! The lore of the bishops only sunk in when I was dealing with my own heavy sibling angst, and I was like wow....shamura supported the sibs so much they accidentally encouraged their brother into being a heretic, and couldn't close pandora's box in time to save him or the rest of the family. They blame themself for the past 1,000 years and seem to be totally okay with dying for what they did?? Like when they get sent to the shadow realm they tell you to "finish the job" instead of leaving them in purgatory. And despite being the bishop of war, they are the only bishop to not have a "desperate" phase where their attacks get more brutal. They're not desperate, they just want to get it over with. All their other siblings are dead by then anyway so it's not like they have anything to stick around for, even if they were healthy enough to win the battle. Plus I mean...narinder is the bishop of death so they probably just want to see him one last time. Owch

Don't get me wrong I love to hate narinder and his only role in my cult is the guy who cleans the outhouse, but I really like his dynamic with shamura vs. the other siblings. I kinda see him as the troubled kid that couldn't assimilate into the family and shamura took it upon themself to try and fix him. It's interesting thinking about how they're the only one he shows remorse for despite feeling the most betrayed by them. I don't think he 100% hates them, he's just been locked in gay baby jail for so long he's had nothing better to think about than "my sibling encouraged me to experiment with my godly duties, and then punished me for it!!". He's not wrong? But also is shamura that wrong either??? Idk it's complicated with no real answer and I like it a lot, I wish the game told us more about what the bishops were like before they got their shit rocked during the schism. I would've loved to see shamura before their brain was turned to mush by their tbi + 1,000 years of suffocating grief and crushing guilt :)

ANYWAY thanks for making it to the bottom of this rant, here is a sketch I did a while ago of shamura + baby leshy from a prequel au thing I don't have a name for yet:

[wqnwoos]

it’s the middle of the night, and you are clinging to seungcheol like a lifeline.

there’s no particular reason. you can’t sleep, he’s not even trying to sleep, and he’s comfortable. so you wrap your arms around him like a koala, amused when he doesn’t even flinch, just lifts his arms a little to give you space, and continues scrolling.

“i’m going to suffocate you if i stay like this,” you say suddenly — slightly muffled with your cheek squished against the pillow.

seungcheol lowers his phone to glance at you, brown eyes soft in the dim lamplight of your room. “it’d be an honour to be suffocated by you,” he says, so solemnly you burst out laughing.

“cheol!”

“what?” he says defensively. “i’m serious! put that shit on my gravestone.”

“you are so — ”

“handsome?” he offers. “charming? perfect?” and he places an exaggeratedly grateful hand over his chest; “babe.”

“annoying,” you finish, with a sigh that doesn’t disguise your smile. being completely and irrevocably in love has made you soft. maddeningly so.

“and yet you’re still dating me,” seungcheol counters with a bright grin and a kiss on your cheek. “so i win.”

“cheesy. so cheesy.” but you don’t detangle your limbs from his; you push yourself impossibly closer, nosing into his neck, leg over his thighs. and he doesn’t move away — he just smiles, brushes you with a feathery kiss.

it’s easy. familiar. it happens all the time, hugging your boyfriend. but it’s insistent in its own mundanity — you think you can stay with him forever and then some. and if you said it out loud, you know he’d echo the sentiment right back to you.

the beauty of it is more settled in the fact that you don’t have to say it out loud. both of you know. instead, you’ll complain about his cheesy lines and he’ll complain about your cold nose against his skin, and you’ll love each other always. enduring, withstanding, everlasting.

an / why do i write. i have no idea. someone stop me 😭

perm taglist: @n4mj00nvq @eoieopda @som1ig @glowunderthemoon @wondering-out-loud @graybaeismytae @hannyoontify @sahazzy @dokyeomin @icyminghao @smilehui @nicholasluvbot @lvlystars @immabecreepin @hanniehaee @kokoiinuts @astrozuya @doublasting @yepimthatonequirkyteenager @qaramu @weird-bookworm @phenomenalgirl9 @lightnjng @strnsvt @onlyyjeonghan @athanasiasakura

[iuchamjohta]

From dream to reality ft YooA

Words 5860

Tags: Threesome, double penetration, double blowjob, hard fuck, carry sex.

See end for notes.

You sat at the corner of WM Entertainment’s practice, heart heavy, and minds full. The room, which used to be full of energy, now felt cramped and overwhelming. Mirrors lined the walls, reflecting the fatigue and stress that filled the space. As you caught your breath, you watched your fellow trainees go through their routine.

Your recent evaluation had not gone well. Your performance, despite weeks of arduous preparation, had left the evaluators unimpressed. Their words still echoed in my mind: “If you fail again, you will be asked to leave as a trainee. There will be no more chances.”

The weight of those words was crushing. Every moment felt heavy, laden with the crushing disappointment of having fallen short. Your heart, which had once soared with the hope of debuting on stage and stepping into the limelight, now felt like it was sinking into a pit of despair. The dream that had initially seemed so attainable now felt cruelly out of reach. The idea of never achieving your goal—and never having another chance to be with YooA—was unbearable.

YooA. Her name was like a melody that had played in your heart since the beginning. Ever since you saw her on stage for the first time, it had drawn you to WM Entertainment. She was the reason you had pushed yourself so hard, the reason you had endured countless hours of practice. She was the brightest star to you in WM Entertainment. Her performances were mesmerizing, and her presence seemed to bring a sense of warmth that was impossible to ignore. It was her that gave you inspiration and had driven you to join the company in the first place, to pursue a dream that had initially felt so distant. She was your light. To be near her, to even dream of winning her favor, had initially seemed like an impossible fantasy, but now, even that dream seemed to be slipping through my fingers.

Your heart raced not just from the physical exertion but from the looming weight of the upcoming evaluation—the one that would determine your future with WM Entertainment. With your head hung low, you walked down the dimly lit corridor. You could hear the soft murmur of voices coming from the staff lounge as you dragged your feet across. To your surprise when you looked up, you noticed YooA, the girl you had admired from far, was chatting animatedly with a few other trainees. Her laughter was light, her presence radiant, and seeing her like this only served to deepen my sense of hopelessness. You knew you had to muster every bit of courage you had left.

With nothing left to lose, you took a deep breath and approached her, your heart pounding furiously in your chest. You felt a flush of embarrassment and nervousness as you stammered, “YooA, can I talk to you for a moment?”

Her eyes lit up with curiosity and kindness. “Of course! What’s on your mind?”

“I just wanted to let you know that I’ve been working really hard,” you said, trying to keep your voice steady despite the quiver you felt. “I know this might sound strange, but I really admire you, and I was wondering if you’d be willing to go out with me sometime.”

 YooA’s eyes widened slightly, a playful smirk curling on her lips as she looked me over. “Oh, I’m flattered,” she said, her smile gentle yet teasing. “But considering your recent evaluations, I think it’s best to focus on improving first. I’m afraid I can’t say yes to that right now” A wave of embarrassment and disappointment washed over you. You felt a flush of heat rise to my cheeks as you were further crushed. “Oh, I understand. I just thought I’d ask.”

YooA saw your visible disappointment. Her expression softened, and she leaned in slightly, her voice taking on a gentler tone. “However, if you do manage to debut, if you really make it. I’d be more than happy to reconsider. I’m rooting for you, you know. Prove me wrong, and we’ll see what happens” Her words were like a spark igniting a dormant flame. Though you were stung by the rejection, the promise she held out was enough to rekindle your hope. You nodded, trying to mask the surge of renewed determination. “Thank you, YooA. I won’t let you down.”

That night, you made a promise to yourself. You would work harder than you ever had before. Driven not only by the fear of failure but by the hope of proving yourself worthy of both the debut and YooA’s promise.

Every day before dawn, you would begin your routine with rigorous vocal exercises that tested the limits of your stamina. You spent hours perfecting your technique, refining your pitch, and strengthening your range. In the afternoons, you immersed yourself in dance practice. You would replay choreography videos over and over, trying to mimic every move with precision. Your muscles ached, but you pressed on, nonetheless. You recorded your practice sessions to scrutinize your performance, adjusting to ensure every move was flawless. You practiced until your body felt like it was made of lead, until you could barely lift my limbs, but you kept going, driven by the knowledge that every improvement brought you one step closer to your goal. You were determined to impress YooA.

The nights were spent studying. You poured over videos other idols, analyzing their performances and their stage presence. You copied their gestures, their expressions, their movements. You took notes, practiced your expressions in the mirror, and worked on your charisma.

Social interactions became rare. Your friends and family grew worried about your isolation, but you were resolute. You were determined to make every sacrifice count, to transform every ounce of doubt into strength. Your days blended into one long routine of training, but you welcomed the monotony because it meant you were closer to your goal. The other trainees watched you with a mixture of curiosity and sympathy. Some offered words of encouragement, while others expressed doubt. You ignored the haters and used their skepticism as motivation. You sought feedback from mentors and took every criticism to heart, viewing each as an opportunity to improve.

As the weeks passed, your dedication began to pay off. Your stamina increased, your voice became more powerful, and your dance moves more precise. You could feel the difference in your performances. You grew more confident, and the hope of debuting became a tangible reality. Finally, the day of the next evaluation arrived. You stood backstage, heart racing with a mixture of excitement and anxiety. Your mind was clear, your body ready. You had given everything you had, and now it was time to show what you could do. The moment your name was called, you stepped onto the stage, feeling the weight of your hopes and fears pressing down on you. You gave it everything you had. Every move, every note was performed with a blend of desperation and determination. The judges watched closely; their expressions unreadable. As you finished your routine, you felt a mix of relief and uncertainty. You had done your best, but the outcome was now out of your hands. The wait for the results was agonizing. You paced the hallways, replaying every moment of your performance in your mind. When your name was finally called. You walked in and noticed the shift in the judges’ expressions, from stern to impressed.  “Congratulations,” one of them said, a hint of a smile playing on his lips. “You’ve made significant progress. We believe you’re ready for the next step.”

You could not believe what you have heard. After months of intense training and grueling evaluations, you’ve finally achieved your dream: your debut is set! The hard work, sweat, and perseverance have all come to fruition, and you’re on the brink of a major career milestone. Bursting with excitement, you ran out of the room and scrolling through the contact list, you found YooA name from the number she had given you after making her promise to you. Nervously, you fumbled around with the keyboard before successfully typing in a few words.

After receiving YooA’s enthusiastic reply, your heart felt like it was bursting with joy. You could hardly contain your excitement as you read her message again and again. The thought of finally spending time with her, celebrating your debut, and sharing this special moment was exhilarating. You hurriedly made plans for tomorrow, trying to decide what to wear and how to make the day as perfect as possible. Every detail seemed to matter, from picking out an outfit that would make a good impression to planning how you would express your gratitude for her support. As evening fell and you prepared for bed, sleep seemed elusive. Your mind raced with thoughts of the upcoming day, replaying the highlights of your debut and imagining the joy of being with YooA. The anticipation made it almost impossible to settle down, but you forced yourself to rest, knowing that tomorrow was a big day.

The next day you came to the dance room YooA had mentioned, curious as to why she had called you to there as the meeting point for your date. As you opened the door, YooA was already there. She wears a sleek dress that hugs her curves, and her full lips are glossed, making them look even more mouthwatering than you remembered. You walked in, captivated by her presence. “YooA, noona, you look incredible,” you said, your voice gave away your admiration that you had for her “Why did you choose this room for today?”

YooA turned to you, her eyes glinting with confidence. “Thank you. I needed a special place for something important,” she said, her voice carrying a hint of mischief. “I have to test something first before we get any further.” You raised an eyebrow, feeling a surge of curiosity. “What do you need to test?” YooA took a step closer, her gaze intense yet inviting. “I want to see if we can connect on a more intimate level and if you can satisfy my needs,” she said candidly. “It’s important to me that we’re on the same wavelength before we move forward.” Your heart raced as you processed her words. You understood the gravity of the situation and appreciated her directness. Of the million other possible outcomes, this was not one that you had expected for your first date. Before you could fully process everything that was happening. YooA closed the distance between you, her lips meeting yours in a passionate kiss. The softness of her lips was mesmerizing—one of the most tender and enchanting experiences you’d ever had. Each touch was a delicate promise, a dance of intimacy that left you breathless. You continued, backing her against the wall before crushing your lips against hers again. Her lips tasted indelibly sweet, and you groan as her tongue tangles with yours. Her hands roam over your body, igniting the fire burning within you. The kiss deepened, growing more passionate but just as you both were losing yourself in the moment, the door to the dance room swings open. Frozen in place, you watch as another man steps into the room. He's younger, with curvy hair and a lean frame, and he wears a similar look of surprise on his face. You recognise him from yesterday’s evaluation and remembered that he too had passed the final round of evaluation and was set to debut. His name was Jin-Woo if you had remembered correctly. Was, he going to be your future band member? That you do not know. You were more curious as to why he was here at the dance room too.

“Noona, who… is this?” you asked sounding puzzled. Yooa pulled away from you, her cheeks flushed. “Well… Let’s just say I made a promise to him too, that I will consider him if he succeeds too.” She explained. The realization hit you like a wave. The romantic promise you had felt so deeply connected to was part of a larger plan, a test of sorts that extended beyond your own moment with her. “Actually, I only promised that I would consider both of you and this is your final evaluation, to see which one of you can satisfy me the most”. You glance at Jin-Woo, jealousy and curiosity warring within you. YooA seemed to have noticed your hesitation and disappointment. She gives you a wicked grin. "Don’t worry, I am sure I can take on you both" she says, her voice low and enticing. "Let me show you." “Fuck it” you said, you were not going to miss out on this opportunity with your dream girl offering herself in front of you just cause another guy joins in. If anything, you were confident with your body and believed you would come up on top. You stepped forward, determination fueling your desire. The other man follows suit, and YooA positions herself on a nearby couch, patting the space beside her. "Let's see what you've been hiding, boys," she coos, and her fingers trail down the neckline of her dress, exposing her generous cleavage. You waste no time, shedding your clothes and stepping out of your pants, your cock springing free. YooA's eyes widen at the sight of your thickness, and she licks her lips in anticipation. The other man joins you, his length slightly shorter, but impressive as well, and YooA's breath quickens. "My, my," she says, "Looks like I'm in for a treat."

You both join her on the couch, your cocks twitching with anticipation. YooA takes a moment to admire you both, her gaze burning with desire. Then, with a sultry smile, she leans forward and takes you both into her hands. Her touch is electric, her palms soft and her grip firm. She strokes you slowly at first, her fingers tightening around your shafts. You groan, your head falling back as pleasure sparks through you. YooA's touch is expert, her palms sliding up and down, teasing the sensitive tips. "Mmm, you both feel so good," she purrs, and you can feel her warm breath on your skin. Then, with a swift movement, she leans down and takes you into her mouth. Your cock disappears between her full lips, and you gasp as her wet heat surrounds you. She sucks slowly, her tongue swirling and her lips gliding over your length. It's the best blowjob you've ever experienced, and you struggle to hold back your orgasm as she works her magic. She had the best dick sucking lips in your opinion. YooA hums in satisfaction, vibrating around you, and you bite your lip to stop from crying out. She takes her time, sucking and licking, exploring every inch of you with her mouth. Her hands roam over your thighs, squeezing and caressing, encouraging you to thrust gently into her mouth. As you thrust into that hole made by her mouth, her tongue and lips working in harmony, suction just perfect. Every time your thrust meets her face, she slurps, the sounds so dirty and sexy. You can see why she took you both on at the same time. You cannot imagine how anyone can last for a few minutes if she focused on just one man. YooA releases you from her mouth with a wet pop, her eyes sparkling with satisfaction. "Tasty," she murmurs, before turning her attention to the other man, devouring him with equal enthusiasm. Your eyes drift to the other man, and you see him thrown back in pleasure, his hands clenching and unclenching as YooA swirls her tongue around his tip. She takes him deep, her throat constricting around him, and he gasps, his hips jerking involuntarily. You stroke yourself as you watch, unable to tear your eyes away from the erotic display. YooA bobs her head down unto Jin-woo, her lips stretched around his thickness, while her hand started pumping the base of your cock. She sucks and licks, her tongue never ceasing its skillful dance. She started alternating between both of you, switching after a few bobs on both of your shafts. You can't take your eyes off her as she deep throats you both with ease, her lips wrapping tightly around your girth, her eyes fluttering closed in pleasure. She moans as she works, the vibrations sending shocks of pleasure through you.

Jin-Woo is the first to lose his battle, grunting as he fills YooA's mouth with his release. YooA hums in satisfaction, swallowing around him, milking him dry with her lips and tongue. You were not far behind, when she takes your cock in again you thrust your hips, burying yourself in her mouth and you explode. YooA takes every drop, sucking and licking until you're spent, then releases you with a satisfied smile. You both collapse on the couch, breathless and sated, while YooA sits back, a self-satisfied smile on her face. She runs her tongue over her lips, tasting the remaining cum on her lips. "That was incredible," you both manage to say in union, still reeling from the intensity of your release. YooA laughs, a husky sound that sends a thrill through you. “Now let’s see which one of you can satisfy me better”.

Jin-Woo didn’t waste any time.  He immediately positioned himself between YooA's thighs and started eating her out. “Someone’s eager” YooA chuckled. Jin-woo continued to feast on YooA’s pussy, lapping away eagerly, desperate to please YooA. You watched as Jin-Woo licked and sucked on her clit, his tongue dancing over her sensitive bud. YooA moaned softly, her hands running through his hair, encouraging him. You stroked your thick cock, feeling it pulse with anticipation. You knew you could do better than this guy. YooA needed something harder, something wilder but you were going to patiently wait for your turn before giving her what she wants. Jin-woo then stood up, his cock rock hard and ready for her. Positioning YooA with her back on the dance floor, he rubbed his cock up and down her slit, wetting his tip before entering her slowly. Their eyes locked as he filled her up and YooA wrapped her legs around him. "Fuck me, Jin-Woo," YooA moaned, her nails digging into his back. "Yes, Noona” Jin-woo responded, thrusting himself into YooA. Jin-woo moved his hips at a slow pace. It appears he was relatively new to this and wanted to take things slow. He slowly built up a rhythm, grasping her thighs, pulling her towards him as he thurst, forcing his cock even deeper inside her. However, YooA seemed to have gotten inpatient and wanted to control of the pace. Flipping Jin-woo unto his back this time, YooA straddled Jin-woo, positioning his cock in front of her pussy and in one fell swoop, sank herself down, swallowing his entire length. “Oh my God, Noona, this feels so good” Jin-woo grunted. YooA continued riding him vigorously, lifting her hips before lowering it down quickly again causing Jin-Woo eyes to roll back slightly and let out a moan. The sight of YooA ass bouncing with each thrust and her tits flailing was too much for you to handle. Getting impatient, you went behind YooA and lifted her off Jin-Woo’s shaft, causing her to pout from a temporary emptiness.

“My turn now” Positioning her on fours, you lined your cock, before driving it deep inside her with a swift, powerful thrust. YooA lets out another moan a mixture of surprise and pleasure. This was a very different treatment as compared to Jin-Woo. Grabbing her shoulder, you begin to set a fierce pace. You fuck her with long, hard strokes, your cock plunging deep into her wetness. "Oh fuck, yes!" YooA cries out, her head tipping back. "Harder, Y/N Give it to me harder!" Her words spur you on, and you began to pull her towards you with every thrust, forcing your cock even deeper inside her. You feel her pussy clench around you as she became increasingly wet. The sound of your passionate fucking soon filled the dance room. Then grabbing a handful of her hair and pulling her head back, you slammed harder into her. You feel her walls stretch to accommodate your thickness, and the sight of your cock disappearing into her sends a jolt of arousal through you. You continued to fuck her with abandon, your balls slapping against her clit with each forceful thrust. "You like that, don't you?" you grunt, pulling her hair slightly to expose her neck. "You like it when I take control and give you what you need." "Yes!" she pants, her eyes wild with lust. "I want you to fuck me senseless. Make me cum around your big cock." Her dirty words send a bolt of desire through you. Looking around the dance room, an idea crossed your head. You grabbed YooA by the waist and lifted her effortlessly, positioning her in a standing doggy-style pose. Using the sofa now as leverage, you continued to thrust into YooA with force. Her juices were already flowing, coating your cock with her sweet nectar. You slid your hand between her thighs, rubbing her clit in circular motions, never slowing his relentless thrusts. YooA's breath quickened, her moans filling the room. "Fuck, yes... harder, YN," she pleaded.

Obliging her request, you quickened his pace, pounding into her with forceful strokes. Using your hand, you lifted one of her legs, giving you an even deeper angle to plow her hungry pussy. YooA's nails dug into the sofa, leaving marks on the surface as she struggled to maintain her balance amidst the barrage of pleasure. Then, with a mischievous glint in his eye, you executed your original plan of placing her in this standing doggy position. You led YooA towards the full-length mirror at the other end of the dance room, the whole time your shaft was still buried deep inside her. Grabbing her hair, you lifted her head and forced her to look at her reflection. YooA watched herself getting fucked, her chest heaving with each sharp intake of breath. She saw her dishevelled hair, her flushed face, and the way her body moved in perfect harmony with yours. "Look at yourself, YooA," You growled. "Look at what a fucking mess you are. Can't control yourself, can you? promising two trainees this, because you want us to fill you up. You're nothing but a slut for cock." YooA's eyes shut with arousal, relishing the filthy words. Seeing everything that transpired through the mirror served to turn both of you even more. You reached around, grasping YooA's throat with one hand while still mercilessly hammering into her. He squeezed gently, applying just enough pressure to heighten her arousal without restricting her breath. "Take it, YooA," you grunted. "Take my cock like the good little slut you are." Then from the corner of your eye, you see Jin-Woo approaching, while stroking his cock. It seems he too have gotten incredibly aroused and impatient after seeing the scene before him. Without needing instructions, he moved in front of YooA, offering his length to her waiting mouth. She opened eagerly, taking him in, sucking and twirling it with her tongue while you relentlessly fucked her from behind. Jin-woo started to thrust into her mouth, his balls slapping against her chin. YooA gagged slightly, but her skilled tongue and lips showed her expertise, making it clear she loved it. You got a little annoyed that the view of the mirror was now blocked, but you could imagine YooA's expression—her eyes rolling back in pleasure—and you knew she was getting closer to the edge from. You knew from feeling her pussy clenching around your cock, milking you for all your worth. You leaned forward, whispering into her ears “Cum for us, Noona. Let me feel that tight pussy clench around my cock." That was all it took. YooA's body stiffened, and she cried out around the cock in her mouth as she reached her climax. Her pussy walls contracted, pulsating wildly around your embedded shaft. As YooA's orgasm washed over her , Jin-woo also reached his limit, his hips bucking wildly as he filled YooA's mouth with his load, his eyes screwed shut in ecstasy. You watched, feeling YooA's pussy pulsate around you, and it pushed you over the edge. Gripping YooA's hips tightly , you unleashed your own orgasm, flooding her with your hot cum. All of you remained in this position for a moment, catching your breath, before YooA turned her head, her lips glistening with cum, and flashed you a seductive smile. "Now that," she purred, "was an impressive performance." “But we are not done yet, there’s one more hole you both have not filled.”

Stirred by her words, and the opportunity to fuck her ass, you and Jin-woo’s cock slowly began to come to life again. Even if both of you were spent, this was a once in a lifetime opportunity you would not want to miss out even if you must force out one more orgasm. You took a step forward, placing yourself directly behind YooA. "Are you ready for this, Noona?" you asked, your voice hoarse with anticipation. She nodded, her eyes sparkling with excitement and a hint of nervousness. "I want you to fuck me. Both of you. At the same time." You smiled, feeling your dick twitch with excitement. This was a fantasy come true. You reached out and grabbed her hips, pulling her towards you. She gasped as the head of your cock teased her tight asshole. With both hands, Jin-Woo reached between her legs lifting her up as you guided yourself to her entrance. "I'm going to stretch you out so good. You're going to feel so full and satisfied." You whispered. As Jin-woo lowered YooA down unto you, you slowly pushed your cock into her ass and she let out a loud moan, her body tensing momentarily before relaxing and allowing you to enter her. You felt the tight ring of her asshole surround your cock, and you couldn't help but groan at the sensation. "Fuck, that's tight," you muttered. "So fucking perfect."

Once she had taken your full length, you reached underneath to hold her thighs, supporting her weight and spreading them for Jin-Woo to enter. Jin-woo grabbed YooA’s hips and positioned himself at her pussy entrance. With a swift thrust, he slid into her, filling her completely. YooA cried out, overwhelmed by the sensation of being filled in both holes. She felt stretched and satisfied in a way she had never experienced before. "Oh my God," she breathed. "It feels so good." You started to move in sync, slowly at first, finding a steady rhythm. Then, you withdrew your cock almost entirely out of her ass before slamming back into her, feeling her tight hole clench around you. Jinwoo matched your pace, his hips slamming against YooA's, his cock sliding in and out of her pussy. The three of you formed a perfect symphony of carnal pleasure, your bodies moving as one. YooA's breasts bounced with each thrust, her nipples hardening as the pleasure built inside her. You reached around and squeezed her tits, pinching her nipples gently, causing her to cry out and buck her hips back against you. "That's it, Noona" you encouraged. "Take it all. You're doing so fucking well. You love getting fucked in both holes like a slut you are" Your words sent a shockwave of desire through her body, and she could feel her orgasm building. "Yes," she moaned. "I'm a slut. Please, make me cum. Fuck me harder." You obliged, grasping her hips tightly and slamming into her with full force. Jinwoo did the same, their balls slapping against her sensitive skin with each powerful thrust. The room was filled with the sounds of skin slapping against skin, mixed with the three of your lustful moans and profanities. YooA's pussy clenched around Jinwoo's cock as she cried out in pleasure. "I'm cumming! Oh God, I can't hold it anymore." Her ass tightened around your cock as she came, her body shaking and shuddering with intense pleasure. The feeling of her orgasm sent you over the edge, and you could feel your own release building. However, both of you were exhausted from this position of carrying and thrusting, eventually you and Jin-Woo’s thighs gave way, slumping unto the dance practice room floor with your cocks leaving her holes in the process.

“Don’t stop, fill me up” YooA moaned.

Jin-Woo smiles, and you can see the hunger in his eyes as well. This time you wanted YooA to ride you. Jin-Woo pulls out of YooA, and she got the message and turned to straddle you, taking your cock in her hands and positioning it at her entrance. She sinks down onto you, letting out a sigh of satisfaction as she fills herself with your length once again. Her eyes flutter closed as she begins to ride you, her hips moving in slow, sensual circles. But it's not long before she picks up the pace, her breath coming in short gasps as she rides him harder. Her pussy clenches around your cock with each ride, and you can feel her tightness squeezing him.

"Oh, fuck, YooA, you feel so good around my cock," you groaned, your hands grasping her hips as she rides you.

Moving your hands higher, you reached forward and begin to play with her tits, your fingers rubbing circles around the sensitive bud before giving them a firm squeeze. YooA lets out a sharp cry, her body tensing as a pleasure shock through her.

"Yes, Y/N, right there," she pants. " Harder. Fuck my pussy”

You obliged, your hips snapping up to meet her downward thrusts. The sound of their flesh slapping together fills the room, along with YooA's moans and cries of pleasure.

"That's it, fuck me like that," she cries. "I need all of you inside me."

Your cock is buried balls-deep inside her, and you began to thrust up roughly, your hips slamming into hers. YooA throws her head back, her long hair falling over her shoulders as she cries out. Jin-woo sees the lust and hunger on her face, and he knows she wants more. He positioned himself behind her again, his cock lined up with her tight hole. He pushes slowly, feeling the resistance, and then YooA relaxes, taking him in. Oh, fuck, that's it," she moans, as she continues to ride you, her body sandwiched between two hard cocks. Jin-Woo begins to thrust slowly, building up a rhythm as he fills her ass. It was his first anal experience, and he was doing his best not to cum too quickly. She was so tight and was squeezing the life out of him. Meanwhile, your hands continued to massage her breasts, squeezing and kneading the soft flesh as you watched Jin-Woo fuck her, slowing down your thrust to let Jin-Woo fit himself in.

"That's it, Jin-Woo, fuck her ass," you grunted. "She looks so damn hot like that."

YooA is lost in a haze of pleasure, her body being pleasured from both ends. She lets out a string of profanities as the two men fuck her, your cocks stretching her, filling her with pleasure. "Oh, God, I'm gonna cum," she cries. "Don't stop, keep fucking me!"

Jin-Woo feels her ass clench around him, and he knows she's on the edge. He reaches around and plays with her clit again, rubbing it in tight circles. "Cum for us, YooA," he says. "Let us feel it."

YooA screams as the orgasm rips through her, her body shaking as wave after wave of pleasure hits her. Jinwoo groans as he feels her pussy clench around him, and he can't hold on any longer. “I want it on my face this time” YooA declared sensing both of your impeding orgasm.

You and Jin-woo quickly pull out of her. You see a satisfied smile on her face. Her hair is wild, her makeup smudged, and her body glistening with a layer of sweat. She looks like a goddess who has just been thoroughly worshiped.

 "Do it, I want to feel both of your cum on my face." she says, looking at the both of you

You and Jin-woo need no further encouragement. You stand in front of her, your cocks already beginning to stir as YooA gets down on her knees, her face expectant.

You stroked your cock, your eyes never leaving YooA's face. You can't wait to coat her pretty features especially those lips with his cum. Jin-woo is doing the same, his eyes glazed over with desire.

"That's it," Yooa says, her voice husky. "Stroke those cocks and cover me with your cum."

You feel the pleasure building as you watched Jinwoo stroke his cock, the head already glistening with pre-cum. You know it won't be long now. "I'm gonna cum soon," you groaned.  "Me, too," Jinwoo adds.

"Then do it," YooA says, her tongue darting out to lick her lips. "Cover my face with your hot cum."

You couldn’t hold back any longer. With a sharp cry, you came, your load shooting out in thick ropes, landing on YooA's face. You see your cum coat her cheeks, her nose, and her lips, and you keep stroking to get every drop out.

Jin-Woo cums a second later, his cum mixing with yours on YooA's face. She closes her eyes, a look of pure pleasure on her face as she feels the warm liquid cover her.

"Oh, yes," she moans. "That's it. Cum for me." You and Jin-woo are utterly spent, your cocks beginning to soften. YooA reaches up and gently begins to rub the cum into her face, smearing it across her skin like a cream. She licks her lips, tasting the salty mixture, and then opens her mouth, sticking out her tongue to catch any last drops.

"Mmm, delicious," she purrs, her cum-coated face looking incredibly sexy. You and Jinwoo collapsed onto the floor; your bodies exhausted but satisfied. After lying on the floor for some time, you finally recovered and cleaned up all the mess that three of you have made. Grabbing some paper towels, you helped YooA cleaned her face as well. Taking this opportunity, YooA leaned into your ear and whispered, “You have passed my final evaluation with flying colours, I will contact you for a second date”. That day, after a magical afternoon with YooA, you returned to your cozy apartment, your heart still dancing with joy. Every detail of today replayed vividly in her mind. You knew that this day will be forever seared into your memory. The feel of YooA's body, the taste of her skin, and the sound of her cries of pleasure will fuel your fantasies for a long time to come. More than that, you are happy that you are given a chance to date the light of your life, the reason you have strived so hard for. Knowing your achievement, you drifted off to sleep with a big smile.

Thanks to the anon for the support to this piece! Hope you enjoy it. Feel free to send request ideas (refer to masterlist for details on which groups I accept) or commission a piece if you enjoy the writing.

[maevesheart]

only angel (2)

FINNICK ODAIR X FEM!READER

note: wasn’t originally planning on making a part two to this but it just seemed so unfinished??!?! and i love ruthless reader idk she’s a queen

summary: through your alliance with katniss, you and finnick rekindle some buried feelings.

wc: 5.2k

tw: violence, death, brutal!!reader, blood, allusions to forced prostitution

only angel (1)

SEVEN YEARS EARLIER, THE 68TH HUNGER GAMES

Brutus and Enobaria sat in front of you and Mace, your district mate.

They reminded you of strategies that you had been taught your whole life, ensuring that as long as you two played into the Capitol’s hands, you’d get plenty of sponsors and come out alive.

Mace and you had never been close back home, but you saw him in the shopping centers, had some mutual friends. It was someone familiar, and even though your two mentors spent more time perfecting your wielding of knives and crocodile tears, you hoped Mace could somehow make it far in the games. Like you knew you would.

Enobaria and Brutus had introduced you to the various other Career Tributes, taking their time to butter up the other mentors, ensuring a ticket for your survival.

You were small compared to the other tributes, even the girl from Twelve was bigger than you.

But you trained, and you trained hard, showing off the various knife and sword tricks that had been engraved in your brain since you were a child.

Enobaria helped with your endurance, shocked by how fast you were. She had instructed you to not show that off to the other tributes, don’t give too much away.

After the private sessions with your mentors, you were stronger, faster, and more agile than Mace could even dream. You almost felt bad, the way Enobaria and Brutus were setting him up for death.

But, at the end of the day, only one can make it out alive.

Enobaria was strategic, determined for you to win. She instructed you to not show too many strengths in the private session with the Gamemakers, just enough to get a respectable score for someone from a Career District.

You followed her instructions to a tee, refusing to be one of the 23 fallen.

For the interviews, Ceasar laughed at your innocent comments and jokes, complimenting the head piece you wore, noting how it looked like a halo.

“Beautiful, like an Angel,” he smiled, the crowed cheering in agreement.

You giggled, smoothing down the uncomfortable golden dress they had sewn you into.

The crowd roared with your unwavering confidence, the arrogance paired with your baby-face and innocent smile was enough to send them into a fit of convivial.

It was just too easy.

The night before the games you had snuck out of the floor for Two, going up to the rooftop in hopes of having a moment to yourself.

You perched on the ledge, a small nightgown barely covering your shivering body.

You closed your eyes to relish in what could possibly be your last moments of peace, before being snapped from your trance by footsteps echoing.

You whipped around, teeth barring and senses on high alert. You were already acting like the wild animal Enobaria had been training you to be.

“Not in the arena just yet,” a smooth voice sounds out, a boy a few years older than you coming into view.

You recognized him as Finnick Odair. He had won a few years back, and was now returning as a mentor.

You ignored him, turning back to the outline of the Capitol.

He approached you slowly, leaning his body against the glass railing you were propped against.

You looked up to him, tired-eyes meeting his, somehow seemingly sparkling.

“Unfortunately,” you spoke, your mouth in a straight line. Enobaria had introduced you to him during the parade, but his tributes were not ally-material.

He laughed at your response. You stared at him, unamused.

“Feisty,” he smirked, watching you look away from him and back to the skyline.

“Not really in the mood to talk about my fate,” you said, his eyes still burning two holes into the side of your face.

His smile dropped slightly, having once been in your position himself.

He reminded himself you were only 15. A year older than he was when he won.

He had only won 3 years ago, and stood on this same rooftop. Looking out on the same city skyline.

Your peripheral vision caught him lean both his forearms onto the glass, shifting closer to you.

“Is it just as scary as it seems?” You ask. You were a child. A child that had been trained to hunt and kill. But deep down, you were just a scared kid. How would you kill all those people?

Finnick hums, acknowledging the same question that wracked his mind the nights before his games.

“It is,” he recognized your fear, but refused to give you false hope that it wouldn’t be as brutal as it truly is.

The words Enobaria had spoken to you earlier bounced around your brain, it’s just killing. Self-defense. All of it. Don’t be scared to kill someone who isn’t scared to kill you.

You let out a long breath, closing your eyes.

“I don’t want to die,”

It was quiet, but Finnick heard it, head perking up and turning to stare at you.

The role as a tribute was meant to bring great honor to someone from your district, but you were terrified. You were young, passionate. You had so much to give and so little time to give it all.

“Enobaria told me to hide my strengths, and I did. I’ll be able to kill them, once it comes down to it. But how will I live with myself?”

Finnick asked himself the same question everyday. How did he kill all those people? Sure, it was survival. Him or them. But how do you continue your life, pretending like you hadn’t murdered people on live national television?

“I—“ Finnick fell short, eyes still watching the side of your face.

“How do you cope with it all?” You finally turned to him, salty tears on your cheeks.

He knew you were preparing yourself for the inevitable. He had heard Enobaria boast about you, and had seen you in training. Other tributes would be frightened to get close to you.

He didn’t answer, swallowing thickly. You would soon understand, you would be in his position.

You choked out a sob, hands wrapping around your body.

He watched with wild eyes, before pulling you into his warm chest, head burrowing in his body.

You made no move to remove yourself from his body, and his arms were snug against your back.

“Kill as many as you can, as soon as you can. Then lay low, hunt. Don’t fall for any of that ally-bullshit.”

His voice was rushed, eyes filled with emotion. He felt for you, a scared child. He remembered his fear all too well.

You sniffled in his chest, hands balling at the thin fabric of his top.

And you listened to him.

In those next few hours, during the bloodbath, you killed two, both with knives to the chest. The Capitol citizens cheered as your face reflected the highest kill-count. You knew it was nothing to be proud of.

That next evening, while the rest of the Career pack slept, you stole the boy from One’s — Yves — backpack, shoving their weapons into it as quietly as possible.

Your small size came handy, being able to stealthily move around them, you were lucky the arena was a desert, sand not making a noise.

The girl from One — Aithon — began to lightly stir, and you knew it was now or never. Finnick’s words from the night before mixed with Enobaria’s, and that was all you needed to take a sword in each hand and take down the two tributes from One.

Their deaths were quick, the canons sounding out and Mace waking up, his laying figure looking up at you. Small but powerful.

You stood over his body, one foot on each of his arms, keeping him from reaching up to you.

His face twisted in confusion, looking over to the blood pouring from Yves and Aithon, each who had just been sleeping soundly next to him.

Your knife neared his face in milliseconds, and you had to force your arms down as he began to scream.

“I’m sorry,” was all you could whisper, guilt beginning to cloud your senses.

But you pushed past it, knowing you had to come out alive. No other option.

“Y/N! Please!”

And then there was silence.

He wasn’t anything special, but he was from home.

You held in tears as the canon sounded, running from the three as quickly as you could.

Whilst you hid behind one of the large cacti around the arena, Enobaria grinned as Capitol citizens celebrated her and you, her star tribute.

Finnick watched, heart tugging, knowing that he had encouraged the killings, he had told you to trust no one. And you had listened.

And from then on, you became the Capitol’s angel, their winged symbol of purity, despite the blood and deaths of many on your hands.

When Snow placed the crown on your head, you smiled, naively, and thanked the crowd. Thanked them for their donations, and their belief in you from the beginning.

But that’s all you were to them: a spectacle. A little girl who killed five in one day, a little girl who’s life had been dedicated to these games, to win. A little girl who would never get her purity back, never get to sleep without seeing Mace’s terrified face before she killed him.

He didn’t deserve it, none of them did. But it was life or death. And there was no way you were going to die.

PRESENT DAY, THE THIRD QUARTER QUELL

Your group continued up to the Cornucopia, you and Finnick taking the tail.

Peeta and Finnick drew a map in the dark sand, you leaned against the side of the metal Cornucopia, Johanna plopping down next to you, and Katniss on your other side.

It all happened in a blur. One second, Wiress was singing her song about a mouse and the clock, and the next, Gloss was on top of her, knife straight into the heart.

Katniss’s arrow struck him, you grabbing your swords to get Cashmere who was standing behind him.

Finnick rushed after you. He knew you could take Cashmere, but what happened if Brutus appeared? Brutus had never been kind to you, and it was doubtful he would start now.

Your sword stuck Cashmere in the leg, and she screamed, falling onto the little amount of ground that the middle sector offered.

She turned over, knife in her left hand, grazing your ankle slightly. Luckily your stylist had dressed you in thicker socks; she had been an absolute idiot about most things, but at least she had your back in the arena.

Your thigh was still slightly burning with pain, but you pushed through it, sticking both your swords into Cashmere’s chest, a strangled gasp leaving her lips and her head falling back against the ground.

The canon sounded out, but you continued to pull your swords out and drive them back into her chest, more blood pouring out.

You were grunting now, mind hyper-aware of your actions, but refusing to stop.

You kept driving the sharp tools into her chest, her body slightly moving up when you retracted the metal, and then caving in as you pushed them back.

You weren’t going to die; you refused to.

Hands were on your shoulders, pulling you backwards, and you turned, swinging.

Finnick let go and backed away, hands held up. He knew you’d never hurt him, but once you’re in the killing mindset, it’s very hard to break it.

You dropped the weapons to your side, a long breath leaving your lips that you hadn’t realized you’d be holding in.

Finnick pulled you along with him, hand on your side as he brought you over to everyone else.

All of them were staring with wide eyes — besides Johanna of course.

Katniss knew you were brutal, but she didn’t realize how quickly you did turn into the angel of death. One second you were smiling, laughing at something Johanna had said.

Then your eyes were lit with a fire, teeth out, and running, faster than Katniss had ever seen someone move.

She had watched you kill Cashmere in seconds, continuing to drive the weapons into her, sounds of exasperation leaving your lips but you were unrelenting.

You felt like you were fifteen again, scared and angry, brutal to anyone who crossed your path. Your swordsmanship was uncanny, and Katniss dreaded the moment that she had to try and kill you.

And then the Cornucopia began to spin, extremely fast. You grabbed onto Finnick, a sword sucking down into the water, your other tight in the palm of your opposite hand.

You and Finnick fell to the ground, grabbing at the hard rocks to keep from flying to the water.

And then you heard Peeta scream Katniss’s name, and the two of you both yelled a loud, “shit!”

You pushed off the hard ground, crawling to the side of the island, hand reaching down to grab Johanna’s axe and try to hoist the two of them up.

You grunted, holding onto a small portion of the metal that wasn’t sharp. Your feet dug into the ground, sword shoved into the rock to keep you grounded.

You watched as Katniss went flying down, and then Johanna was on top of you, the two of you gasping for oxygen when the spinning stopped.

You and Johanna were back on your feet, rushing to help Katniss out of the water.

You all made your way back onto the sand, where it was relatively safe.

You discussed strategy, your fingers tracing different shapes into Finnick’s thigh.

“Who’s left then?” Katniss asked, eyes flickering between you and Johanna, the two of you having a conversation with your eyes.

“Brutus and Chaff, I think that’s all,” Peeta announced, all eyes shifting to you at the mention of your district-mate.

“I get Brutus,” you spoke clearly, eyes hard.

“Y/N…” Finnick spoke, hand smoothing down your arm.

“Just… I know him. I can handle it, I swear,”

He had helped train you, of course you would know his methods like the back of your hand. You had been seeking revenge for years, waiting for the day you could get him back.

What had the games done to you? Fantasizing about killing someone?

And then you were back there, back to the moment your life really ended.

You were dressed in clothes Snow had picked out, a hairstyle Snow had picked out, makeup Snow had picked out. You were his newest doll, malleable to his every demand.

It was your victory tour, and Enobaria and Brutus were accompanying you, helping you with speeches and coming to terms with your new life as a Capitol pet.

You were finishing up in the Capitol, the final destination. Snow had laid out his conditions for you: your pride and body now belonged to the Capitol, and with it, they could do what they pleased. Your company came with a high price.

He had threatened your family back in Two, describing in detail what would become of them if you didn’t comply with his wishes.

You had gone back to the train and told Enobaria and Brutus, eyes spilling hot tears when Enobaria pulled you into her arms, hands stroking your hair. At least she was kind.

Brutus, however, was not.

His boisterous laugh rang off the walls of the train, your eyes peeking out from Enobaria’s embrace to glare at him.

“Let me know when you start, sweetheart,” he smirked, a scowl overtaking your features.

You had been waiting to get him back, to show him that weren’t a little slave for his disposal. Finnick understood your rage, more than any other person could.

He wanted to kill Brutus just as badly as you did.

No one else asked any questions, and for that you were grateful.

And then the screaming started, and you jumped to your feet, eyes frantic and scanning the area.

Whoever it was, they were screaming for Katniss, and rather brutally as well.

And off she took. You were the fastest, so you caught her first, arms around her shoulders to steady her, but she kept moving, screaming back to the voice.

She stopped abruptly, and shot an arrow into a large black bird that was flying over your heads.

The screaming stopped immediately. And then it began again, this time, it was the voice of Mace. And you felt the blood drain from your entire body, legs suddenly shaking and threatening to go out.

The words he had screamed to you before you had slit his throat were wrapping around your body, swallowing you whole.

“Y/N! Please! Y/N!” You were running then, the screaming getting louder and louder, tears streaming down your face as you tried to escape it; the horror that would haunt you forever.

“It’s not real, they’re jabberjays!” Katniss assured you, running behind you, trying to catch up.

You saw Finnick and Johanna’s faces ahead through your blurry vision, and you sped up, Finnick’s arms wide for you to run into.

But it was a force field, and you collided right into it, falling to the ground in a heap of tears and painful memories.

You covered your ears, head digging into the ground to stop the noise, but it wouldn’t stop. You wailed, and Finnick was hitting the force field, which he was standing on the direct other side, but there was no avail.

He was screaming for you, to look at him, listen to his voice. But the field was soundproof, and he had to watch with a heavy heart as you sobbed, the sounds of the person you betrayed all those years ago the only thing you could focus on.

Finnick’s hands were all over you, smoothing down your hair, checking your face, helping you stand.

Peeta was doing the same with Katniss, the both of you having tear-stains down your cheeks and dirt smudged into your cheeks.

You were frozen solid, eyes big and wide, legs slightly shaking. You had never felt worse about something than what you did to Mace that dreadful night. His screams haunted your dreams, and to have the Gamemakers play into that weakness reminded you just who the real enemy is.

“Y/N, look at me,” Finnick’s hands were on the sides of your face, pulling you closer to his protective figure.

“It wasn’t real. It wasn’t him,” he shook his head lightly, your lips still quivering from fear.

You could only muster the strength to simply nod, telling him that you knew, but the Gamemakers were cruel, so cruel, and they had hit you right where it hurt.

Just as you were beginning to regain your usual automatic-kill mindset, a small box flew down, straight into your hands.

Everyone gathered around you, curious as to what could’ve been sent.

You knew Enobaria would have your back, and considering the sponsors this year were based upon what you had left over from your games, you were lucky. You had a large pot of donations under your name, not needing much assistance when you were in your first games.

You screwed off the top, being met with a small vile of Crave Cure, the very concoction that she had sent you during your games. It came with a note reading: remember who the real enemy is. I’m always rooting for you. - Baria

That assured you of Enobaria’s stance, likely scheming with Haymitch and Plutarch behind the scenes, ensuring your protection by Thirteen.

Finnick smiled next to you, Johanna calling out with happiness.

“Finally!” Johanna cheered, axe thrust into the air.

You even broke a smile, suddenly distracted from the traumatic experience you had just endured.

You looked up, seeing the confused looks on Katniss and Peeta’s faces.

They would’ve never heard of Crave Cure, it was the most expensive thing a mentor could send their tribute, and required many sponsors. It was usually only sent to the Careers, both you and Finnick had received it during your games.

“Crave Cure,” you spoke, Katniss’s eyes meeting yours.

“One drop on your tongue and it cures hunger for 12 hours,” you smiled to them, picking up the vile.

“Enobaria is a saint,” Johanna spoke, watching as you dropped a tiny bit of the brown liquid onto your tongue, a content sigh escaping your lips.

Beetee went next, then Finnick and Johanna.

Katniss and Peeta stood awkwardly to the side, not knowing to approach or not.

“Oh, enough of that! We’re allied, aren’t we? Take a drop,” you urged, placing the vile into her hands.

Peeta nodded, and that seemed to be all the convincing Katniss needed before mimicking your action and gagging when she tasted the fluid.

You laughed at her expression, a light-hearted tease. “Not the best, but it does do its job,”

You figured you had really won her trust, considering how she walked next to you during the hike to the big tree.

The two of you talked about your families back home. You complimented her dedication, to protect her little sister.

She had killed your Cato and Clove; the two you had spent hours coaching, assuring they’d be okay in the end. Words you had needed so badly during your games.

Through talking with Katniss, you realized no one deserved to win as much as she did. She was selfless, willing to sacrifice herself for both her sister and Peeta, placing herself as a protector, not a victim.

And then the peace you had all been building crashed down, Katniss suddenly retreating from the trust you all had built after Beetee offered she go with you and Johanna.

“Why can’t Johanna and Y/N go? I’ll protect you with Peeta,” she spoke, and you met Finnick’s gaze. You read the fear in his eyes, knowing this the was now or never moment.

“Katniss,” you spoke, hands resting on her shoulders.

“You know who the true enemy is,” you whispered, holding her intense eye-contact.

Her eyes softened at your words, everything seemingly clicking into place. With a nod, you grabbed her hand, and pulled her with you and Johanna.

A look over your shoulder to Finnick, and a nod. Your eyes said it all: I love you. I’ll see you soon, once we are safe and out of the Capitol’s hands.

You and Johanna halted your movements, stopping Katniss as you did.

“Stay down,” Johanna instructed Katniss, grabbing her arm.

“What-“ Katniss was about to scream, and you could not let that happen.

You grabbed her face with your hands, eyes frantic for her faith.

“You can trust us,” you whispered, barely loud enough for the cameras to pick up on.

But the raw emotion in your eyes calmed Katniss, giving Johanna the opportunity to cut the tracker out, Katniss’s arm beginning to bleed heavily.

“It’s alright,” you soothed her, your arm out to Johanna, waiting for the inevitable sear of pain.

And then it came, and you placed your body over Katniss’s not allowing her to get up and try to attack.

But then you spotted Brutus over the rock, his hard eyes staring straight into yours.

“Y/N,” Johanna warned, watching the familiar fire begin to brew.

You were up in seconds, sword in one hand, knife in the other, running up the rocky hill. The pain in your arm was masked by the rush of adrenaline you ran high off, killing spree — if you will.

Johanna grunted in anger, but she knew not to expect anything different from you.

“Do not move,” she instructed Katniss, picking up her axe to follow you.

You had reached Brutus quickly, pouncing onto his back and driving your sword straight through his abdomen.

He cried out in pain, blood soon coating your legs that wrapped around his waist.

You pulled the sword out, taking the knife to his neck. He was dead in seconds, the familiar canon sounding throughout the arena.

After registering what you had done, images of Katniss flooded your mind and you internally cursed yourself, rushing back to the spot you had left her and Johanna.

Johanna was back to your side, but Katniss was no where to be seen.

“Fuck!” You cursed, sprinting back towards the tree where Beetee, Finnick, and Peeta were.

She had likely gone back to protect Peeta and kill Finnick, and you were not about to let that happen.

Johanna tried to keep up with you; but even with a gushing arm and slit leg, you were fast. Much faster than anyone else.

“Finnick!” You screamed, feet pounding against the hard ground, propelling you towards the tree, where you watched Katniss aim her arrow straight at Finnick’s head.

Beetee was on the ground, and you crouched, feeling for his pulse. His heart was still beating and you hovered over him protectively, in case Katniss decided to turn around and fire at you too. Which seemed very likely.

You watched as Finnick said something to Katniss, obviously resonating with her, the bow slightly lowering.

“Johanna! Give me your arm!” You swung around, panic-struck and searching for the familiar face.

And you saw her a few feet below, trying to climb the vines you had mounted with ease.

You looked between Finnick and her, torn as to which to try and protect. You knew Finnick would hold his own, so you turned back around and began to move for Johanna, quick feet avoiding possible injuries.

But just as you were in grabbing-distance of her, Finnick’s voice rang out, screaming, “Get away from that tree!”

A crack of something echoed around you, and you turned wildly, trying to figure out what had just happened.

Then you understand what Finnick had meant, a loud crack of lightening rained down and sent you flying, reaching for Johanna as you flew past her, her terrified eyes meeting yours.

The last thing you remembered was being pulled up into the air by a large claw, head and limbs limp as you were hoisted up; sword still secure in your palm, a protection habit you had picked up since your games. You always needed to be armed, after all, life was the arena.

You awoke to the sound of a heart monitor, steady beeping lightly calming your high-alert nerves.

You winced sitting up, large bandages wrapped around your forearm and thigh.

You inspected your surroundings, two empty mats in front of you, and Katniss sleeping to your left.

You stood, hushed voices on the other side of the door that reached the ceiling of the craft you were on.

You looked for a weapon of sorts, not willing to go in unarmed. On the other side of the empty room was your sword, glimmering and coated in blood.

You walked over to it, legs sore and aching, the familiar metal calming against your palm.

The door immediately opened as you approached it, Haymitch and Plutarch’s widening as they spotted your weapon of choice clutched in your ruthless hands.

But it dropped to the floor with a loud clatter when your tired eyes met Finnick’s, a relieved smile coming over your features.

You rushed to him, throwing yourself into his arms. His lips met yours halfway, melting into his strong hold around your body.

The two of you fit together perfectly, like you had been made in the same mold.

Your arms wrapped around his neck, pulling him tighter to your already close bodies.

You poured all your pent up feelings into the kiss, all the feelings you had suppressed since the fight that had ended your relationship.

It was the most relaxed you had been in the whole week, since your name was plucked from the bowl of living victors.

His lips moved against yours as he squeezed your hips, hands feeling everything they could, to ensure that it was in fact you, and you were alive and safe in front of him.

You pulled a part, a grin across your small face.

He smiled back, but your bliss was interrupted from the clearing of a throat behind you. You spun around, eyes meeting the expectant ones of Haymitch, Plutarch, and Beetee.

The look on your face said it all. And Haymitch nodded, validating all the thoughts that had been running through your head.

You were safe, headed for the secret hideout of Thirteen. All was okay.

You almost began to laugh thinking about how the Capitol would react, their Angel and Darling being two of the biggest conspirators in a rebellion. How ironic.

And Katniss was on the ship, you had successfully carried out your tasks.

“Where’s Johanna?” You asked, a smile still dotting your face.

Finnick’s composure broke, and your heart dropped, realizing the obvious.

“No, no, no, no,” you began to back away, spine hitting the hard metal of the table.

“I went after Brutus, I didn’t cut the tracker… fuck! Oh my god, Finnick, oh god,” you began to dry-heave, accepting her capture as your fault.

Finnick’s hands were on your biceps, steadying you and pulling you back into his chest.

“Johanna and Peeta are in the Capitol,” Plutarch spoke, your worst fears being confirmed.

“It’s all my fault,” you groaned, head in your hands. You had killed, hunted, and tortured. But the idea of a friend’s death being on your hands hurt more than any of those ever did.

Haymitch spoke reassuring words behind you, but Finnick’s hold and the idea of betraying Johanna was all you could focus on.

How would she forgive you? Was she alive? How would you ever cope if she wasn’t, and it was all your fault? Of course, you let the murderer take over, and went after Brutus.

Finnick’s arms soothed down your back, keeping your grounded as you were flooded with grief, with the heavy weight of betrayal.

Johanna and you were close friends, you were supposed to protect each other in the games. She had protected you, always by your side, and you neglected to do the same.

“We’re going to try and rescue them as soon as we can,” Haymitch said, even though you all knew that might be an impossible task.

And then Finnick slipped his hand into yours, fingers curling around yours and softly rubbing your knuckles.

You composed yourself, closing your eyes as you took in a deep breath, regaining focus on just your interlocked hands. Finnick always knew how to relax you.

All you had wanted initially was to get out of this quarter quell alive, to return home to your big mansion and family. To hug them again, to prove to the Capitol that they could take everything from you, but they couldn’t kill you.

But now, you realized that all had been in vain. Where you really belonged was here, holding hands with Finnick, discussing how you were going to break your friends from the Capitol’s mean grip.

You’d die for him, for them. You’d flap your wings once more to ensure they’d all live.

When Katniss first volunteered for Primrose, you hadn’t understood how she would sacrifice her life for another.

But now you knew, and you knew you’d do it too.

You finally had something to live for, someone you loved, who understood all that you had gone through better than anyone else.

Life was the arena, and if it came down to it, you knew the angel would sacrifice herself for the darling.

**

[norrizzandpia]

i am Politely Asking for the lando post-race imagine you mentioned 👀👀👀

Your guys’ wish is my command 🤭

All He Needed Was Her (LN4)

Summary: Following the Vegas ‘23 crash, Y/n and Adam find Lando in his hospital bed, yearning for the comfort of his girlfriend’s touch.

Warnings: a panic attack, inferences of death, Lando crashing

Note: that crash was so hard to watch and i still have not recovered

Silence encompassed the space around her, her mind sick with the images of Lando’s crash. What she thought could potentially be his first race win had turned into her worst nightmare as Lando’s car laid smashed against the protecting fences. Her mouth stayed agape as she listened to her boyfriend’s broken “I’m ok,” followed by concerning whimpers and groans. Her eyes frantically searched the room, the faces of his loved ones burned into her brain with their watery eyes and panicked looks. She couldn’t bear the tension within the space, the expressions of the people around her like he had died. The room closed in on her quickly, allowing for no space to breathe or get out of the anxiety filling her lungs. She felt trapped, a panic attack coming on inevitably when she saw the way his hand shook, his arms trying to push himself out of the car yet failing continuously.

She shoved the headset off her ears, shutting out the taunting sounds, before throwing herself into the crowd behind her and pushing them to the side as she tried desperately to claw herself out. She couldn’t turn her head back to see the screens, not even when applauding emitted and a good sign emerged. Y/n reached the door, her hand grasping the handle and hesitating. A large hand grasping her shoulder called her back, willing her to open her eyes and see the survival of her love. When she turned around, her eyes looking up, she was met with the soft look of Adam, Lando’s father.

No matter how comforting he was trying to be, his bloodshot eyes reminded her of the risks her boyfriend took, the chances of him not getting out of that car after a race.

It was too much.

Her heart beat out of her chest and she struggled to find air, her impending anxiety surely, gradually, painfully encroaching her being.

Adam, being familiar with the anxiety attacks his son got, saw the signs, opening the door behind her quickly and shoving her into the empty hallway. His hands landed on her biceps, gripping them as he shook her gently.

“Y/n?” His voice was distant and Y/n wanted to run toward it, however nothing was ever that easy.

He tried again, “Y/n, breathe with me.”

Her mind understood, her lungs expanding shortly as he began to inhale. Tears seeped through the crack of her lips, adding to the drowning she felt she was enduring.

She blubbered and sobbed as she tried to follow his pattern, proving difficult when suffocation seemed probable.

Nevertheless, Adam’s determination triumphed, her mind slowing down as her body caught up.

He looked at her with pity as she came down, his eyes swimming in a certain sympathy she didn’t recognize. This was deeper, he was seeing the pain she was bearing, relating to it because of the exact connection they both nurtured with the boy.

His hands left her arms, stilling at his sides as he began to coax her toward his driver’s room, “How about you rest for a while? That seemed really bad.”

She shook her head immediately, “No, I need to be awake for Lando. What if he needs to go to the hospital?”

Adam closed his eyes as he nudged her into the small room, “Then, I will come wake you. But, for now, he’s going to go to the circuit’s medical center and there’s nothing we can do. It’s best if you allow yourself to relax after that.”

She knew he was right, more so because he sounded exactly like his son. When she had these horrid experiences, Lando was right beside her immediately, gently leading her to any surface where she could lie down. He knew exactly how to make it go away, she never expected to have to do it without him or because of him. He was consistently advocating for her rest after an attack, something that always helped her recover more quickly.

That memory, those habitual instances, persuaded her to give in to Adam’s pleas. He smiled at her as she brought a blanket over her body, Lando’s scent encompassing her body.

“I promise I’ll be back when I have updates.”

She nodded, trusting him like she had for the past few years, “Okay, thank you.”

He closed the door with a nod, the dark haunting her enough to close her eyes and lean into the quiet, peaceful embrace of sleep.

—

She was awoken by shaking, more specifically Adam’s hands shaking her upper body.

“Y/n, wake up.” He whispered, his words guiding her back to the world.

Her eyes fluttered open, “Yeah?”

He seemed stoic, rigid and stressed, something that made Y/n truly wake up, “Lando’s at the hospital. They said we can meet him there.”

She shot up from her laid down position, “What?! The hospital?! Is he okay?!”

His father sighed beside her, getting up and showing how antsy he was to move when he lingered by the door, “I don’t know.”

—

The pair burst through the doors of the hospital, launching themselves at the nurses who sat behind the desk. Their words mixed together as they sputtered out his name, occupation, and situation. This proved to be inefficient because the women looked back at them blankly.

Y/n tried again, “We are here to see Lando Norris. He is a Formula 1 driver and he was involved in an accident.”

It dawns on the employee and her head tilts slightly, “I can’t give out information on him because of his status and occupation. I am sorry. Unless you can prove you are family to him then I can’t give you anything.”

Adam’s hand flew to his pocket, whipping out his wallet and showing her his identification, proving his blood relation to Lando. Y/n watched with a heavy heart as she realized she had nothing to show, she wasn’t family. She was crushed as she realized he would be able to go on to see their boy without her.

When the woman gave him the room number, she gave it to him on paper so as to deter anyone overhearing, he bolted. He was right at the door that led to another hallway when he stopped and turned around, motions for Y/n to follow him.

“I need to see your proof of family relations.” The nurse beside her said expectantly whilst Adam moved back over to the desk.

She shook her head, “I’m his girlfriend. I don’t have proof of blood relations.”

The nurse shrugged, “Then, I’m sorry, I can’t have you go through.”

Y/n opened her mouth to fight back, but Adam interrupted her, “No, she has to. I’ve just shown you I’m his father, take my word for it. Please. My son needs her right now.”

The nurse seemed to be at a crossroads as her gaze flickered between Adam and Y/n. Finally, she nodded curtly and the two were running throughout the building. Down different hallways within the floor, they quickly reached his room. Without thinking, Adam charged in, a strong wave of emotion hitting him when he saw his son wrapped up in a hospital bed.

“Lando,” He sighed, arms falling around Lando’s body as he squeezed him softly, careful with him.

“Hi, dad. Thank you for coming. I’m sorry if I scared you.” He mumbled into his shoulder, hand laying loosely over the back of his father.

Y/n watched from the corner, tears pricking the sides of her eyes at the sight of him. She watched as they pulled back, Lando’s eyes meeting hers and softening with relief before Adam was coughing and excusing himself from the room.

When they were left alone, she walked slowly to him. She stood in front of him for a moment, both individuals taking in the other after the traumatic time apart. When he had had enough of not holding her in his arms, Lando reached out and pulled her closer to his body, arms linking around her hips as he stuffed his face into her chest. She breathed out as her hands tangled in his hair, both of them memorizing the way the other calmed them in such a state.

He clung to her, breathing steady as she whispered sweet, quiet words of love and encouragement to him.

“Sit with me?” He asked with a low volume, pulling back slightly and looking up at her.

She could never say no to his deep green eyes, “Always.”

He shifted to the side as she slid in next to him. She watched the way his eyes lingered over her lap. Chuckling, Y/n sat further against the wall, “Lay your head on my lap, baby.”

He smiled at her brightly, a childlike grin as he shuffled down and set his curly hair over her pants.

A silence passed before she was whispering again, “I love you so much. It was so scary seeing you crash today and I just could not live a life without you. I love you, Lan. You’ve ruined my life for the better. There’s no way I could ever go a day without you.”

He nodded below her, “I can’t either. I kept asking for you when I was at the circuit after the crash, but they kept telling me I couldn’t have any visitors with the impact I had just endured. I was so angry, all I wanted was you. I’ve been like a sitting duck as I stared at the wall and waited for you to arrive. But, now that you’re here, I already feel like I’m getting better. That’s your impact on me. I love you too, love. Being without you for that was worse than the crash itself.”

She looked down at him, leaning over to kiss his temple. When he felt the pressure, he turned his head. She had been pulling back, but got the hint when he looked up at her expectantly. He giggled as she leaned back down, meeting his lips with her own in an intimate, soft kiss.

When they pulled back, she watched his eyes slowly close when she began massaging his scalp and tugging gently at his brown hair. He moaned quietly at the feeling, stroking his hand over her leg as she comforted him with just her presence.

He buried his face further into her lap, breathing her in. By the change of angle, she lost sight of his face, only relying on the monitor to tell her he had fallen asleep when it evened out, reaching a rhythm.

Only then did Adam return, smiling lightly at his sleeping son laying in the lap of his girlfriend. Truly the sweetest sight, he thought, something he would’ve taken a picture of had Y/n been asleep as well.

He sat in the chair beside them, cocking his head at her.

“Thank you.”

The two words caused Y/n’s eyebrows to draw together, confusion etched into her face, “For what?”

Adam sighed and leaned forward to rest his elbows on his knees, “For being there for him. Not just now, but all the time. He’s always put everyone else first. He’s always made it the biggest priority to make others feel good when he wasn’t at all. Cisca and I always wished for someone to come along and take care of him right back. Turns out our wishing wasn’t in vain. Here you are and he’s finally understanding what it’s like to be loved that way.”

Y/n stared at him for a moment, eyes averting back to her sleeping boyfriend strewn across her lap, before choking out, “Thank you, Adam. That means the world from you.”

“Just speaking the truth.” He shrugged, leaning back in his chair before kicking his legs up toward the end of the bed. He watched her lean her head back, scumming to sleep just like Lando, her hands still buried in his hair.

That was when he took the picture, sending it to the Norris Family group chat, it including Y/n, and assuring the members of Lando’s wellness.

Adam (2:35 AM)

Image Attachment

Adam (2:35 AM)

Lando’s okay! Don’t worry! All he needed was some medication to calm his nerves and Y/n 🧡

[basset-babe]

five times: the one point five.

pairing: benedict bridgerton x fem!reader

warnings: none but gossip yet again

word count: 2.9k+

a/n: please do send me a message or comment down if you would like to be added on the succeeding taglists for the five times series! here is 1.5 times with ben. enjoy! thanks loves <3! (also, pls do imagine ben holding a graft rose for this one heh)

five times series: the first. the one point five. the second. the third. the three point five. the fourth . at last. text divider from @heavenlayt and pattern banner from @cafekitsune thank you!

the one point five time.

In the hours of sunlight, callers have flooded the Y/L/N drawing room. All bringing gifts and performances in hopes to win the favourable yes of the season's paragon, Miss Y/N Y/L/N. The grand parlor, adorned with exquisite tapestries and sparkling chandeliers, buzzed with the lively hum of conversations and the tinkling laughter of society’s elite. Lavish bouquets of rare, fragrant flowers filled the room, their heady scent mingling with the aroma of freshly brewed tea and delectable pastries arrayed on silver platters.

Gentlemen, dressed in their finest attire, lined up to present their offerings to Miss Y/L/N, each one more extravagant than the last. Some brought intricate jewelry, glittering with precious stones, while others offered rare books, hoping to appeal to her reputed love of literature. Musicians performed virtuoso pieces on the grand piano, their fingers dancing over the keys in a bid to capture her attention through the power of melody. Poets recited verses composed in her honor, their words dripping with adoration and longing.

Miss Y/L/N, the epitome of grace and poise, received each suitor with a warm smile and a gracious word. Her eyes, sparkling with intelligence and kindness, moved across the room, acknowledging the efforts and intentions of each visitor. Her charm was such that even a simple nod or a softly spoken thank you felt like a cherished treasure to the eager suitors.

The hour had struck past 1 in the afternoon when, hopefully, the last caller of the day had bid his farewells. The Y/L/N drawing room, which had been a whirlwind of activity, now began to settle into a quieter, more contemplative atmosphere. The sunlight streaming through the large windows cast a bright hue over the room, highlighting the opulent furnishings and the array of gifts that had been presented to Miss Y/N Y/L/N throughout the morning.

Servants moved gracefully, clearing away the remnants of the lavish spread of refreshments while ensuring that every detail of the room remained immaculate. The air was still fragrant with the scent of roses, lilies, and other exotic flowers that had been brought by admirers, creating a heady, almost intoxicating environment.

"As much as I do love botanicals, all these flowers have turned obnoxious to my senses, Grandmama," Y/N sighed, feeling the urge to slouch on the couch. Her frame was poised elegantly despite her weariness, a testament to her upbringing and the endless etiquette lessons she had endured.

Her grandmother, the Viscountess Y/L/N, reentered the room with a look of satisfaction mixed with maternal concern. "My dear," she said softly, "you have conducted yourself admirably. The attention you have garnered is truly remarkable, but alas, this be the trials of being the season's paragon," she said with jest. "A small price to pay for such adoration and the opportunities it presents."

Y/N allowed herself a small, rueful smile. "It has been a most eventful day. I do hope I have shown the proper appreciation to each caller." She gently plucked a stray petal from her gown, its soft texture a stark contrast to her current mood.

"Rest assured, my dear, that this too shall pass," her grandmother replied soothingly. "Soon, you will look back on these days with fondness, perhaps even in laughter."

Y/N nodded, though she wasn't entirely convinced. She admired her grandmother's ability to see the positive in any situation. Lady Y/L/N had once been the toast of her own social season, and her wisdom was hard-earned through years of navigating similar waters.

"Would it be terribly improper to open a window, Grandmama?" Y/N asked, her eyes drifting towards the heavy drapes that concealed the afternoon breeze. "I believe a bit of fresh air might revive my spirits."

The Viscountess chuckled softly. "Not at all, my dear. In fact, I think it would do us both good." She motioned to a nearby maid, who quickly moved to pull back the drapes and open the window, allowing a refreshing breeze to sweep into the room. The cool air carried with it the scents of the garden outside, a welcome contrast to the overwhelming floral arrangements within.

Y/N took a deep breath, feeling instantly more at ease. "Thank you, Grandmama. That is much better."

"Now, my dear," Mrs. Y/L/N said, her tone becoming more serious, "while you have a moment of peace, tell me—was there any caller today who truly caught your eye?"

Y/N considered the question carefully. There had been many suitors, each with their own merits. Some had been charming, others earnest, and a few rather boastful. But it was not that she minded all these suitors; it was who she looked forward to that truly occupied her thoughts. It had been this Bridgerton man she'd hoped would be calling on her the entire morning. Unfortunately, he had not been seen yet in this drawing room.

"Y/N, my dear, are you still with us?" Lady Y/L/N's gentle voice broke through her reverie.

"Yes, Grandmama," Y/N replied, a slight blush coloring her cheeks. "I was merely thinking."

"About anyone in particular?" her grandmother inquired with a knowing smile.

Y/N hesitated for a moment, then decided there was no point in hiding her thoughts from her perceptive grandmother. "To be quite honest, I was hoping to see Mr. Bridgerton today.. well as of this morn," she admitted. "I fear he may have been otherwise engaged."

"Ah, Mr. Bridgerton," Lady Y/L/N said thoughtfully. "A fine young man, from a respected family. It is no wonder you look forward to his call. Perhaps he will still make an appearance."

Y/N nodded, though she knew the likelihood was slim as the noon wore on. She took another deep breath of the fresh air now circulating through the room, trying to shake off her disappointment. The season was long, and there would be other opportunities to see him again.

"There was Sir Nicholas Deveraeux. He was quite charming," Y/N remarked.

"He comes from a good family as well, but I've heard his uncle," Her grandmother leaned in conspiratorially, "envies the crown."

Y/N laughed at the Viscountess' antics. "Grandmama, that's quite scandalous. Wherever did you hear such a thing?" Y/N laughed.

"Deborah told me," her grandmother said, motioning to her maid. Y/N couldn't help but laugh at the notion of her grandmama indulging in gossip. "But I must tell you, I keep my options open still," she stated matter-of-factly, regaining my composure.

"Even though you are clearly captivated by Mr. Bridgerton's smile," Her grandmother teased. "It is wise to keep your options open, my dear, so as not to appear too eager for any one gentleman's attentions."

"Indeed," Y/N thought to herself, "it is prudent not to seem desperate and helpless this early in the season. After all, the season is just beginning, and there will be many more opportunities for maybe much more meaningful encounters."

The older woman patted the young lady's hand reassuringly. "You are a clever girl, my Y/N. Your charm and grace will surely attract many suitors. Just remember to enjoy the process and not to place all your hopes on one gentleman, no matter how enchanting his smile may be."

Y/N nodded, feeling a renewed sense of determination. The season was an adventure, and she was ready to embrace it with an open heart and mind. As her grandmama said, there would be many chances to find the right match, and she intends to savor every moment.

Just as she was about to resign herself to the wait, a soft knock sounded at the drawing room door. Both Y/N and her grandmother turned their heads in surprise as the butler entered.

"Forgive the interruption, ma'am," he said with a slight bow. "But there is one more caller who has just arrived."

Y/N's heart skipped a beat as the butler stepped aside, revealing none other than Mr. Bridgerton himself. He stood at the threshold, his confident demeanor softened by a warm, sincere smile.

"Good afternoon, Lady Y/L/N, Miss Y/L/N," he greeted them, bowing respectfully. "I apologize for my tardiness. I hope I am not intruding."

Lady Y/L/N's eyes twinkled with amusement as she replied, "Not at all, Mr. Bridgerton. We are delighted to see you."

Y/N felt her spirits lift instantly, her earlier fatigue forgotten. "Indeed, Mr. Bridgerton," she said, her smile reflecting the genuine pleasure she felt. "Your timing is impeccable."

Mr. Bridgerton's eyes met hers, and for a moment, it felt as though they were the only two people in the room. "I am glad to hear that, Miss Y/L/N," he said. "I have been looking forward to our meeting."

As he stepped further into the room, bringing with him an air of warmth and possibility, Y/N knew that this visit was just the beginning. The season held many uncertainties, but in that moment, with Mr. Bridgerton's presence brightening the drawing room, she felt a renewed sense of hope and excitement for what was to come.

He walked closer, offering his wrapped gift with a warm smile. "I know of your love of botanicals. Although, I wasn't sure what to get, but I opted for a grafted Rosa Falstaff from our estate's own gardens."

Y/N's eyes widened with surprise and delight as she reached out to accept the potted rose. "A Rosa Falstaff? From your family's gardens?" she exclaimed, her fingers gently tracing the leaves and delicate blooms.

"Yes," Benedict nodded, his gaze softening as he watched her reaction. "I thought it would be a fitting addition to your collection, considering your fondness for floriculture."

"Thank you, Mr. Bridgerton. This is truly truly thoughtful of you." Y/N's eyes lit up as she accepted the graft, appreciating the gesture.

Mr. Bridgerton smiled, a hint of relief and pleasure in his eyes. "I'm glad you like them, Miss Y/L/N. I thought something from home might be more personal and meaningful than the usual offerings."

Mrs. Y/L/N, observing the interaction with a pleased expression, decided to give the young couple some space. "If you'll excuse me, I have some correspondence to attend to," she said, rising gracefully. "Please, Mr. Bridgerton, make yourself comfortable."

As her grandmother left the room, Y/N gestured for Mr. Bridgerton to sit beside her on the elegant settee. "It's so refreshing to receive something so genuine," she said, placing the graft gently on the table beside them. "Tell me more about your estate's gardens. They must be quite beautiful."

Mr. Bridgerton settled into the seat, his expression brightening as he began to speak. "Our gardens are indeed a sight to behold, especially in the spring. We have a variety of flowers, from different roses to lavender, and even some more exotic species like that which my mother is particularly fond of. Each section of the garden has its own unique charm and character."

Y/N listened intently, her interest piqued not just by the subject but by the way he spoke with such genuine affection for his home. "It sounds enchanting," she said. "I would love to see it someday."

He smiled, clearly pleased by her response. "I would be honored to show you around Aubrey Hall, Miss Y/L/N. Perhaps you could offer some advice on expanding our collection of botanicals."

"I would be delighted," Y/N replied, her smile matching his. "There are always new species to discover and cultivate. It would be a pleasure to share that with someone who appreciates it as much as I do."

As they continued to talk, the conversation flowed effortlessly, touching on various topics of mutual interest. The room seemed to fade away, leaving just the two of them engrossed in their exchange. The connection they felt was palpable, a promising hint of what could be a deep and meaningful relationship.

The noon sun cast a golden glow through the open window, bathing them in warm light. It was as if the world outside had conspired to create the perfect moment, one that Y/N would cherish as the beginning of something truly special.

"Why not a change of scenery, Miss Y/N? May I enchant you to a walk with me this afternoon?" Mr. Bridgerton asked, his eyes sparkling with anticipation.

Y/N felt a flutter of excitement at his proposal, though very different from norm indeed. The thought of a leisurely walk, away from the confines of the drawing room and amidst the fresh air and beauty of the outdoors, was undeniably appealing. She glanced at her grandmother, who had discreetly lingered near the doorway.

Mrs. Y/L/N, catching her granddaughter's hopeful expression, gave a subtle nod of approval. "I think that sounds like a splendid idea, Mr. Bridgerton," she said. "A bit of fresh air through my garden will do you both good."

"Thank you, Grandmama," Y/N replied, her smile widening. She turned back to Mr. Bridgerton, her eyes meeting his with a mix of excitement and gratitude. "I would be delighted to join you for a walk."

Mr. Bridgerton offered his arm, which Y/N took with a graceful nod. Together, they made their way out of the drawing room and through the grand halls of the Y/L/N residence. The household staff, now accustomed to the comings and goings of numerous callers, discreetly stepped aside, offering polite smiles as the pair passed.

As they stepped out into the sunlight, the warmth of the afternoon embraced them. The gardens of the Y/L/N estate stretched out before them, a riot of color and fragrance that promised a delightful stroll. Birds chirped melodiously, adding a charming soundtrack to their walk.

"Your gardens are truly beautiful, Miss Y/L/N," Mr. Bridgerton remarked as they began their promenade. "It's easy to see where your love for botanicals comes from."

"Thank you, Mr. Bridgerton," Y/N replied, her gaze sweeping over the well-tended flower beds and neatly trimmed hedges. "I find great joy in spending time here. There's something so peaceful about being surrounded by nature."

They walked in comfortable silence for a few moments, taking in the beauty around them. Y/N's lady's maid chaperoning behind. The gravel path crunched softly underfoot, and a gentle breeze rustled the leaves overhead.

"I must admit," Mr. Bridgerton said, breaking the silence, "I was quite nervous about coming here today. I wasn't sure if my gift would be well-received."

Y/N looked up at him, surprised. "You needn't have worried," she assured him. "Your gift was one of the most endearing ones I have received. It speaks volumes about your character and your genuine interest. Quite a change in the morn's most fragrant bouquets. All exquisite but a tad bit too much on my senses." I gestured towards my nose.

He smiled, clearly relieved. "I'm glad to hear that, Miss Y/L/N. I hoped to make a meaningful impression."

"You certainly have," she replied warmly. "And now, here we are, enjoying a lovely walk together. It seems your efforts have been rewarded."

As they continued their walk, their conversation flowed effortlessly, touching on topics both serious and lighthearted. They shared stories, laughed together, and discovered common interests. The connection between them grew stronger with each passing moment, the bond of friendship and potential courtship becoming more tangible.

"So, do tell me more about you, Mr. Bridgerton."

"Do call me Benedict, if you please. Provided, of course, that you feel comfortable and we are beyond the earshot of your lady's maid." his eyebrows raise in suggestive jest.

Y/N chuckled, a twinkle of amusement in her eyes. "Very well, Benedict. You may address me by Y/N as well."

Benedict smiled, clearly pleased by her informal, now more familiar, address. "My days are usually spent at home, but sometimes, I spend my time in my art studio at the academy."

"Yes, you've mentioned of yourself an artist, I remember." Y/N remarked, intrigued. "That is fascinating. What sort of art do you create?"

Benedict's face lit up with enthusiasm as he began to describe his passion. "I work primarily with oils on canvas, though I do enjoy sketching as well. There's something incredibly satisfying about capturing a moment or a feeling in a piece of art. It’s a way to express myself that words sometimes fail to achieve."

Y/N listened intently, her admiration growing. "I would love to see your work someday. It must be wonderful to have such a creative outlet."

"It is," Benedict agreed, a note of pride in his voice. "And I would be honored to show you my studio and some of my pieces. Perhaps I could even paint your portrait, if you would allow me."

Y/N blushed at the thought, a mixture of shyness and excitement. "I would be delighted, Benedict. Though I must warn you, I may not be the most patient of sitters."

Benedict laughed, his eyes sparkling with amusement. "I’m sure we would manage just fine. And who knows, you might find the experience enjoyable."

"I look forward to it," Y/N said, her smile reflecting her genuine interest. "But tell me more about your family. I have heard much about the Bridgertons, but I would love to hear it from your perspective."

Benedict's expression softened as he spoke of his family. "We are a large, close-knit group. There are eight of us siblings, and we were all raised with a strong sense of duty and love seeing my late father and mother attend to our household. My mother, Violet, is the heart of our family. She has always encouraged us to pursue our passions and support each other."

"That sounds wonderful," Y/N said, touched by his words. "Family is so important. I imagine it must be lively with so many siblings."

"It certainly is," Benedict replied with a grin. "There is never a dull moment at Bridgerton House. We have our share of disagreements, of course, but we always come together in the end. All the laughter and camaraderie make it worthwhile."

Y/N felt a warm connection forming between them, their shared values and interests creating a bond that felt both natural and exciting. "I would love to meet them all someday, even so now that your brother has found himself a wife. Such exciting things!" she said.

"And they would be delighted to meet you," Benedict assured her. "I can already tell that you would fit right in."

"He thinks of me as someone who would fit with his family? I could feel my heart flutter," Y/N thought, the realization sending a warm, thrilling sensation through her.

As they continued their conversation, the afternoon sun began to dip lower in the sky, casting a golden glow over the garden. The hours had slipped away unnoticed, a testament to the ease and enjoyment they found in each other's company.

Eventually the day had struck shy of 3 at afternoon and they made their way back to the main house, the promise of future meetings and shared experiences hanging in the air. As they reached the steps, Benedict turned to Y/N, his expression earnest and hopeful.

"Thank you for a wonderful afternoon, Y/N," he said. "I look forward to our next meeting."

"As do I, Benedict," Y/N replied, her heart full of anticipation. "Until then."

With a final, warm smile, Benedict took his leave, leaving Y/N with a sense of happiness and a fluttering hope for the future. The day had been more than she could have imagined, and she felt a deep sense of gratitude for the connection they had begun to forge.

taglist: @novausstuff @pussyslayerhd @amoosarte

[quinzzelx]

Shadows and Starlight

Part 2

Azriel x Fem!Reader

Summary: It's Starfall and with Starfall come some unpleasant memories. But your excitement to finally see Azriel again wins you over. Catching up with your family, you find that the evening is approaching fast. What happens when Azriel returns and you finally see each other again?

Chapter 01 // Chapter 03

Word Count: 8.8K Well, this is a lengthy one.

Warnings: Canon typical violence, Trauma, Flashbacks of Torture, Mentions of SA, A lot of Family bonding, Angst, Teeth rotting Fluff, and Sexual content. I have not proofread this yet, since I wanted to get this up as quickly as possible. A/N: Oh my god, GUYS!!! I am overwhelmed by the positivity and love you showered the first chapter with! You have honestly no idea how happy this makes me. I'm so glad people seem to enjoy it and I truly hope that this part will do the first one justice. Feel free to comment and share your thoughts. Feedback is always appreciated! Also, come chat with me in my inbox!

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As you wake up on Starfall morning, a sense of weariness washes over you, the remnants of a night spent tossing and turning, haunted by dreams of the past and the phantom pains that still linger in your scars. Despite the soft caress of your satin nightgown against your skin, every movement sends a twinge of discomfort coursing through your body, a reminder of the battles you've fought.

Tracing your fingertips over the pale, jagged carvings that mar your stomach, you're transported back to the horrors of Amarantha's trap, the allure of her twisted game pulling you deeper into her web with each passing moment. Rhys had begged you to stay home, his instincts warning him that something wasn't right about this meeting, this gathering, but something inside you knew that you couldn't sit idly by while he faced danger alone. And so you insisted on accompanying him, despite the protests and the danger it posed to you both. There were moments of doubt, fleeting glimpses of regret that whispered in the recesses of your mind.

Especially in the darkness of those colder, harsher nights. Nights when even the simple act of opening your eyes felt like an insurmountable task, weighed down not just by the heavy iron chains that bound you to the ground, but by the imposing weight of impending death that hung heavy on your shoulders.

Turning onto your side, you wince as you feel the numerous scars on your back, traces of the lashings you sustained at Amarantha's hands. She was cruel in her efforts to use you as a tool to hurt Rhys further, inflicting pain upon pain in her relentless quest for power. But despite the physical scars that mar your skin, it's the emotional scars that run the deepest, the memories of your shared trauma with Rhys threatening to pull you back into the depths of despair.

Your wounds festered, infected by the cruel hands of Amarantha, who took perverse pleasure in keeping them open and inflicting new ones upon you, layering pain upon pain with each lash of her whip. Faebane slowed your healing, leaving you vulnerable to the biting cold that seeped into your bruised body, each breath a struggle against the suffocating grip of agony. On one such night, Amarantha's rage burned brighter than usual, her fury directed solely at you. Bound naked to her bedpost, your emaciated form contorted in unnatural ways, the strain and angle of your bindings causing one shoulder to scream in protest. She carved vile curses into the soft flesh of your stomach, taunting you with each cruel stroke of her blade.

And then Rhys entered, his horror evident in the fleeting glimpse you caught of his face before the mask of stoicism fell back into place. But his appearance ignited something within Amarantha, sparking a twisted idea that would haunt you for years to come. Forced to watch as Rhys administered the next lashes, forced to endure the searing pain as he used his Deamanti powers on you, you felt a sliver of relief amidst the agony as his apologies echoed in your mind, his powers soothing the raw edges of your suffering. He tried numbing your pain, taking away the searing heat that your wounds imposed. But Amarantha wasn't satisfied with just inflicting physical pain – she wanted to break you completely, to strip away every last shred of dignity and humanity. And so she made you watch as she rode Rhys, fucking him without hesitation, with favor, your body still bound to the bedpost, blood dripping down your exposed skin, your chest heaving with shallow breaths. She got off on it, the hot tears running down your face, leaving streaks in the dried blood on your face. Even in your state then, your eyes beheld a promise of death. But never had you felt this helpless, having to watch as Amarantha used Rhys as her personal sex-slave. Rhys was your family, your High Lord! And all you could do was watch.

It was a night of unspeakable horror, one of the darkest moments of your life. And yet, amidst the despair, there was a glimmer of hope – She was this mad because of Feyre, because she wanted to break the curse. As you lay there, on the floor of your cell, embracing the cold arms of death, Rhys hurriedly came barging in. He knelt beside you on the cold stone floor, tears streaming down his face as he cradled your head in his hands, offering what little comfort he could in the face of such unimaginable pain.

"Gods, what have I done?" Rhys whispered, his voice choked with sorrow and regret. "I'm so sorry, Y/N. I never wanted this for you. I never wanted any of this." His words were like a knife to your heart, each apology cutting deeper than the last as you struggled to cling to consciousness. "Rhys," you managed to rasp, your voice barely a whisper. "Don't blame yourself. It's not your fault." But he shook his head, his tears falling freely now as he pressed his forehead against yours. "I should have protected you. I should have never let this happen to you."

You reached up, weakly grasping his hand as you tried to offer him what little comfort you could. "It's not your fault," you repeated, your voice growing fainter with each passing moment. "I love you, Rhys. Please... don't blame yourself."

But Rhys's anguish only seemed to deepen at your words, his sobs wracking his body as he pleaded with you to hold on, to fight against the darkness that threatened to consume you both. "Please," he begged, his voice raw with emotion as he called your name. "Don't leave me. I can't bear to lose you. Please, stay with me." And as you felt the cold embrace of death drawing ever closer, you clung to his hand, drawing strength from the love and warmth that radiated from him. "I'll try," you rasped, your voice barely audible now. "I'll try, Rhys. I promise."

And with those final words, you drifted into darkness, leaving Rhys alone with his grief and his guilt, his tears mingling with yours as he prayed to the Mother for a miracle, for a chance to make things right.

Taking a deep, shaky breath, you try to calm your mind, to push aside the memories that threaten to overwhelm you. Today is supposed to be a day of celebration, a time to put aside the pain of the past and focus on the joy of the present.

As someone knocks at the bedroom door, you groan, burying your face in the pillow, exhausted and emotionally drained from the tumultuous memories that still linger in your mind. Calling out for the person to enter, you brace yourself for the intrusion, the weight of the world pressing down upon your shoulders. To your surprise, it's Rhys who enters, his presence like a balm to your weary soul. As if sensing the chaos within you, he seems equally stressed by the preparations for the day, Nyx cradled in his arms. Your eyes soften when they land on the toddler, his small wings flapping excitedly as he spots you, extending his arms out in a silent plea to be held. Rhys sits down beside you on the bed, a gentle look on his face as he takes in your tired form. Nyx immediately pounces on you, his laughter filling the room with infectious joy. Despite your exhaustion, you can't help but smile at the sight of the young boy, his innocence a welcome distraction from the weight of the world.

"Hey there, little one," you murmur, scooping Nyx into your arms and showering him with kisses. He giggles in delight, his tiny hands reaching out to touch your face with a sense of wonder. Rhys watches the exchange with a soft smile, his violet eyes filled with warmth and affection. "I thought Nyx might help cheer you up," he says gently, his voice laced with concern. "It's been a rough morning, hasn't it?" You nod, unable to find the words to express the whirlwind of emotions that have been swirling inside you since you woke up. But as you hold Nyx close, his laughter echoing in your ears, you feel a sense of peace settle over you, if only for a fleeting moment. Rhys leans closer, his hand finding yours on the bed, offering silent support. "Are you okay?" he asks softly, concern etched in his eyes.

You manage a weak smile, squeezing his hand in return. "I'm... trying to be," you admit, your voice tinged with exhaustion. "It's just... a lot, you know?" He nods understandingly, his thumb tracing comforting circles on the back of your hand. "I know," he murmurs, his gaze softening. "But we'll get through this, together. I promise." The weight of his words hangs heavy in the air, a silent reminder of the bond that binds you both, even in the darkest of times. "Thank you, Rhys," you whisper, your voice barely above a whisper. "For everything."

He smiles, a gentle expression that lights up his features. "Anytime," he says softly, leaning in to press a kiss to your forehead. "We're in this together, remember? No matter what."

As you settle into a more comfortable rhythm, the conversation shifts to lighter topics, a welcome distraction from the weight of the morning's emotions. "So," Rhys begins, his tone lighter now, "did you hear about Cassian's little mishap with the ladder this morning?" You raise an eyebrow, a hint of amusement dancing in your eyes. "Oh? Do tell," you urge, a small smile playing at the corners of your lips. Rhys chuckles, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "Well, apparently he thought he could single-handedly take on the task of putting up the decorations," he explains, shaking his head in mock disbelief. "But Feyre and Elain had other ideas."

You laugh at the mental image of Cassian attempting to navigate a ladder while Feyre and Elain guided him from below, their laughter echoing through the halls of the House of Wind. "And then," Rhys continues, a mischievous twinkle in his eye, "just as he was reaching for the top, the ladder slipped out from under him, and down he went!" You can't help but giggle at the thought of Cassian tumbling to the ground, his pride wounded but otherwise unharmed. "Poor Cass," you tease, shaking your head in mock sympathy. "I hope he's okay." The Highlord says, his smile widening. "Oh, he's fine," he assures you. "Just a bruised ego, I think."

Before you can respond, Nyx interrupts with a babble of his own, his tiny hands reaching out to grab at Rhys's hair. You laugh, gently untangling Nyx's fingers from Rhys's locks as you listen to the toddler's excited chatter. Rhys grins, his eyes sparkling with affection as he looks down at his son. "I spoke to Azriel yesterday," he says casually, shifting the conversation back to more serious matters. "He should be back today, just in time for Starfall."

You feel a surge of anticipation at the mention of Azriel's return, your heart skipping a beat at the thought of seeing him again after his absence. "That's great news," you reply, trying to keep your voice casual despite the butterflies in your stomach. "I'm sure he'll be relieved to be home." He nods, a knowing glint in his eye. "Oh, I'm sure he will be," he says cryptically, a teasing smile playing at his lips. "After all, there are certain people who have been eagerly awaiting his return."

You roll your eyes, unable to suppress a smile at Rhys's playful teasing. "You're incorrigible," you tease, giving him a playful shove. "But I'm glad Azriel's coming back. It's not the same without him." The conversation ebbs into comfortable silence as you play with the toddler sat on your lap. When you notice Rhys’s eyes glaze over, the violet of his eyes dulling just slightly, you look at him with a cocked eyebrow. “Is our Highlord required somewhere?” You ask with a small smile on your lips. “Yes, I fear duty calls.”

As Rhys leaves with Nyx in tow, a sense of tranquility settles over you, the bustling energy of the morning quieting to a gentle hum. With a sigh of relief, you make your way to the bath, the promise of warm water and solitude beckoning to you like a beacon in the storm.

Sinking into the soothing embrace of the bath, the warmth seeping into your tired muscles and easing the knots of tension that had been building within you. With each passing moment, the cares of the world seem to slip away, replaced by a sense of peace and calm that settles deep within your soul. With each passing moment, you feel yourself growing lighter, the weight of the morning's emotions gradually fading into the background as you focus on the simple pleasure of being present in this moment. Only when the skin on your hands starts to wrinkle, do you decide to leave the comfort of your bath.

After drying off, you quickly set about getting ready for the day ahead. With practiced ease, you slip into your clothes, the fabric smooth against your skin as you dress. You run a brush through your hair, smoothing out any tangles and pulling it back into a simple yet elegant style. With one last glance in the mirror, you nod in satisfaction, a sense of determination settling over you. Today is a new day. Starfall to be exact. You would not let the past control the present.

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As you make your way downstairs, noon is just beginning to unfold, the soft light of the early sun filtering through the windows of the House of Wind. The air is filled with the gentle hum of activity as preparations for the evening's festivities are underway. You take a moment to admire the decorations that Cassian had so painstakingly put up, a fond smile playing at the corners of your lips as you remember his earlier mishap with the ladder. Despite the chaos of it all, there's a sense of excitement building in the air, a unmistakable energy that sets your heart racing with anticipation.

Making your way to where Feyre and Elain were sitting in the kitchen, you exchange greetings with them, falling into easy conversation. The smell of freshly brewed tea fills the air, and you can't help but relax as you sink into a chair at the table. "So, what's on the agenda for today?" Feyre asks, pouring a cup of tea for each of you.

Elain smiles softly, her doe-eyes lighting up with excitement. "I was thinking of spending some time in the gardens," she says. "I've been working on a few new plantings, and I'd love to show them to you." You nod eagerly, honestly intrigued by Elain's passion for gardening. "I'd love to see them," you reply, a genuine smile tugging at the corners of your lips.

Whilst you sip your tea, the conversation turns to lighter topics, and you find yourself laughing and joking with Feyre and Elain. It's moments like these that remind you of why you cherish your time with them. Suddenly, Elain's voice breaks through your thoughts, her tone soft and earnest. "I'm so glad Azriel is returning today," she says, her eyes shining with sincerity. "I've missed him." A pang of jealousy and irritation shoots through you at her words, catching you off guard. You quickly brush it off as simple irritation, unwilling to acknowledge the twinge of envy that lingers in the depths of your chest. Elain, oblivious to your internal turmoil, continues to speak, her words pulling you back into the conversation. "And I've missed you too," she adds, her voice filled with warmth and affection.

You nod, forcing a smile. "Yeah, I missed you too." But inside, you can't help but feel a twinge of envy at the thought of Elain's closeness with Azriel. Before the awkwardness can settle in, however, Elain changes the subject, her eyes lighting up with excitement as she again talks about the new plants she's planted in the gardens of the Riverhouse.

"That reminds me," you say suddenly, a spark of delight igniting within you. Your eyes sparkle as you remember the gift you brought back for Elain, reaching into your pocket and pulling out a small packet of seeds. "I found these at a market stall on the continent and thought of you. They're seeds for a flower called... um...“ you stumble over the name for a moment before recalling it. "They're seeds for a flower called Moonlight Blossoms. I thought they might be a nice addition to your garden."

Elain's eyes widen with delight as she takes the seeds from you, her expression one of pure joy. "Oh, thank you!" she exclaims, her voice filled with genuine appreciation. "I can't wait to plant these in the garden. They're going to be beautiful."

After spending a pleasant morning and noon catching up with Feyre and Elain, you accompany Elain to the garden to see her new plants. The garden is a riot of color and fragrance, and you spend a blissful hour wandering among the flowers and chatting with her about her latest botanical discoveries. As you bid Elain farewell and make your way back inside, you realize that the day has flown by in a rush of activity. You quickly run a few last-minute errands for Starfall, picking up some supplies and making sure everything is in order for the evening's festivities.

Time seems to slip through your fingers like grains of sand as you hurry through the bustling streets of Velaris, the excitement of the day building with each passing moment. Before you know it, the sun is beginning to set, casting a golden glow over the city as evening approaches.

With a sense of urgency, you hurry back to the House of Wind, eager to get ready for the evening ahead. Mor had promised to get ready together, and you don't want to keep her waiting. As you enter your room, the blond is already there, surrounded by an array of dresses and accessories strewn across the bed. She looks up as you enter, a bright smile lighting up her face.

"Hey there, gorgeous!" she greets you, her eyes twinkling with excitement. "Are you ready to get glam for Starfall?" You return her smile, feeling a rush of anticipation at the thought of the evening ahead. "Absolutely," you reply, crossing the room to join her. "I can't wait to see what you've picked out." Mor gestures to the dresses laid out on the bed. "I've narrowed it down to a few options," she says, a mischievous grin playing at her lips. "But I think I already know which one I'm going to choose." You chuckle, knowing that Mor always has a flair for dramatics when it comes to dressing up. "Well, let's see them then," you tease, eager to get started.

Together, you sift through the dresses, examining each one carefully and discussing their merits and drawbacks. There are dresses of every color and style, from sleek and elegant to bold and daring. Finally, Mor settles on a stunning gown in deep maroon red, its flowing skirts and intricate beading catching the light as she holds it up.

"This is the one," she declares, a satisfied smile gracing her features. "What do you think?" You nod in agreement, admiring the dress's beauty. "It's perfect," you reply. "You're going to look absolutely stunning." Mor beams at your praise, clearly pleased with her selection. "Thanks, love," she says, reaching out to give you a quick hug. "Now, let's get you sorted out. I have a feeling you're going to steal the show tonight."

As you slip into the dress that you had bought the day before, a soft sigh escapes your lips, the sensation of the fabric against your skin sending a shiver of delight down your spine. The deep midnight blue hue wraps around you like a lover's embrace, casting an delicate glow that seems to illuminate the room. The neckline plunges low, offering a tantalizing glimpse of your cleavage. With each movement, the dress seems to come alive. Mor's eyes widen in admiration as she takes in your appearance. "Wow," she breathes, her voice filled with genuine awe. "You look absolutely stunning."

A soft smile graces your lips as you meet her gaze "Thank you, Mor," you say, your voice barely above a whisper. "I couldn't have found this without your help." She beams at your words, her pride evident in the curve of her lips. "It was my pleasure," she replies, her tone warm and sincere. "But really, the dress suits you perfectly. I almost forgot how it looked on you overnight."

Shortly after she also put on her dress, Mor expertly braids your hair, her nimble fingers weaving intricate patterns, you can't help but admire her skill. With each twist and turn, your hair transforms into a work of art, cascading down your back in elegant waves. You close your eyes, savoring the sensation of her touch, the gentle tugs and pulls lulling you into a state of relaxation. "Your hair is like silk," Mor remarks, her voice filled with admiration. "It's going to look stunning tonight." Once your hair is styled to perfection, Mor moves on to makeup, applying each layer with precision. The dark, alluring makeup enhances your features, accentuating your eyes and highlighting your cheekbones.

Whilst the blond puts the finishing touches on your makeup, you take a moment to admire your reflection. The sultry gaze staring back at you sends a thrill of excitement coursing through your veins, the promise of the evening ahead hanging in the air. "Ready to turn heads?" Mor asks, a playful smirk gracing her lips. "Absolutely," you reply, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips. "Let's make tonight unforgettable."

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As you and Mor descend the grand staircase, the sounds of laughter and music fill the air, signaling the start of the evening's festivities. The House of Wind is alive with energy, the vibrant atmosphere drawing you in as you make your way through the bustling crowd. Mor heads straight for the wine table, her graceful movements drawing the attention of those around her. She expertly pours two glasses, handing one to you with a knowing smile. "To a night to remember," she says, raising her glass in a toast. You clink your glass against hers, a smile playing at the corners of your lips. "To a night to remember," you echo, taking a sip of the rich, velvety wine.

While mingling with the other guests, you can't help but notice the admiring glances and whispered compliments that follow you wherever you go. Cassian whistles at your appearance, his eyes twinkling with mischief as he offers a playful wink. Even Amren, usually reserved and stoic, can't help but be impressed. "Not bad, girl" she remarks in her typical deadpan tone, her lips quirking up in a rare smile. "You look good." While chatting with Cassian, his easy grin and infectious laughter filling the air, you can't help but feel at ease in his presence. He regales you with stories of past Starfall celebrations, each one more outrageous than the last, and you find yourself laughing along with him, caught up in the magic of the moment and the memories.

Amren stands beside him, her sharp gaze surveying the crowd with a mix of curiosity and amusement. She interjects with the occasional dry comment or witty observation, adding her own unique perspective to the conversation. Cassian nudges you playfully, a naughty glint in his eyes. "So, have you seen Az around yet?" he asks, a playful smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

You roll your eyes at his question, knowing full well where he's going with this. "Not yet," you reply with a smirk. "But I'm sure he'll make quite the entrance when he does," you add, your tone dripping with playful sarcasm. Cassian chuckles, his grin widening as he leans in conspiratorially. "You know, I heard he's been practicing his dramatic entrances," he whispers, waggling his eyebrows suggestively. Amren, who had been silently observing the exchange, scoffs in amusement. "Practicing? Please, Azriel was born with dramatic flair," she interjects, her voice dry as ever. You can't help but laugh at Amren's remark, nodding in agreement. "True," you concede, unable to deny the truth in her words. Cassian's grin widens, mischief dancing in his eyes as he leans in closer. "You know, Y/N, if you keep talking about Az like this, people might start to think you have a crush on him," he teases, his tone light but teasing. Mor joins in on the teasing, a playful smirk on her lips. "Oh, come on, Cass," she chimes in, "we all know Y/N's got it bad for Az. I mean, who wouldn't? He's mysterious, brooding, and let's not forget those dreamy eyes."

You roll your eyes at their teasing, but heat creeps up your neck nonetheless. "You two are insufferable," you mutter, trying to play it off coolly despite the warmth you can feel in your chest.

They share a knowing look, their grins widening. "Oh, don't be shy, Y/N," Cassian says with a wink, "we all see the way you light up whenever Az is around."

You sigh in mock exasperation, knowing there's no escaping this. "Fine, you caught me," you admit with a chuckle, "but can we please focus on something other than my nonexistent love life for once?" Mor and Cassian exchange a glance before bursting into laughter.

With an exaggerated sigh, you down the rest of your wine in one swift motion, the cool liquid soothing the annoyance bubbling within you. Setting the empty glass down, you grab another from the nearby tray, filling it to the brim with wine. Cassian and Mor exchange amused glances as they watch your reaction, but you pay them no mind, determined to drown out their taunting with copious amounts of alcohol.

As the night wears on, the rhythm of the music pulls you onto the dance floor, the enchanting melodies winding their way through the air and into your soul. Lost in the music, you move with grace and elegance, allowing the melodies to guide your every step. The lights overhead cast a warm glow on the dance floor, illuminating the faces of those around you as they sway to the music. Couples twirl and spin, lost in their own worlds of love and passion, while laughter and joy fill the air. You watch as Nesta and Cassian sweep over the dancefloor together, having the crowd watch in awe.

With each passing moment, your gaze darts from one corner of the room to the next, hoping to catch sight of him. Your heart beats faster with every shadow that moves, every figure that passes by, as you search for the one person who has occupied your thoughts all evening.

Dancing with an attractive Fae male, his presence envelops you, his hand warm against the small of your back as you sway to the soft, slow tunes. Despite your initial reluctance when he asked you to dance with him, you find yourself enjoying his company, lost in the rhythm of the music and the warmth of his gaze. His blond hair were neatly combed, his bright green eyes gentle and kind as they take in your facial features.

But as his hand begins to wander over your scarred skin, trailing dangerously close to where the fabric of your dress starts again, a shiver runs down your spine. The heat of his touch sends a jolt through you, igniting a familiar sensation. Just as you feel yourself becoming lost in the moment, a sudden shift in the air catches your attention. Without even turning around, you know he's here. As the music continues to play, you can sense him drawing closer, his presence casting a spell over you that leaves you spellbound and breathless. Just as you're about to step away, you sense a familiar presence behind you. The scent of cedar fills your senses, and you turn to find Azriel standing there, his tall frame looming over you.

Before you can even process his presence, he reaches out, gently touching your arm. "May I cut in?" he asks, his voice soft yet commanding. You meet his gaze, the intensity in his eyes sending a shiver down your spine. "Of course," you reply, unable to tear your eyes away from him. As the Fae male steps back, Azriel takes his place, his hand finding yours as he pulls you close. The music shifts to a slower, more intimate melody, and you find yourself swept up in the moment. "It's been too long," you whisper, your voice barely audible over the music. Azriel's gaze softens, his fingers tracing light patterns on your back. "I've missed you," he admits, his voice low and filled with emotion. A surge of warmth washes over you at his words, and you find yourself drawn closer to him. "I've missed you too," you confess, your heart racing in your chest. As you continue to dance, the tension between you and Azriel is palpable, crackling in the air like electricity. His hand lingers on your waist, his touch sending shivers down your spine.

"I can't believe you're finally back," he murmurs, his voice barely audible over the music. You meet his gaze, your heart pounding in your chest. "I can't believe it either," you reply, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips. "It feels like it's been an eternity." Azriel's eyes soften, a hint of sadness flickering in their depths. "I'm sorry I wasn't here to greet you when you returned," he says, his voice filled with regret. "I wanted to be the first one to welcome you home."

You reach up, gently touching his cheek. "It's okay," you assure him, your thumb tracing the line of his jaw. "I know you had your duties to attend to." A faint smile plays at the corners of Azriel's lips then, and he leans into your touch. How he had missed it to feel your gentle reassuring touch. "Still, I wish I could have been here for you," he murmurs, his voice deep and husky. As the song comes to an end, you stare at each other. Reluctantly, Azriel releases your hand, his touch lingering for a moment longer before he takes a step back. The music fades into the background, drowned out by the sound of your heartbeat pounding in your ears.

For a moment, the two of you simply stand there, lost in each other's gaze, the world around you fading away until there's nothing left but the space between you. Then, with a soft smile, Azriel breaks the silence. "Would you like to take a walk?" he asks, his voice gentle and inviting.

You nod, a warm feeling spreading through you at the prospect of spending more time with him. "I'd like that," you reply, returning his smile. Together, you slip away from the dance floor, the night air cool against your skin as you step out onto the balcony. The city sprawls out before you, its lights twinkling in the darkness like a sea of stars.

Feeling his gaze upon you, you can't help but shift slightly under his scrutiny, a blush creeping up your cheeks as you realize just how closely he's examining you. You bite your lip nervously, suddenly hyper-aware of every curve and contour of your body that's on display in the dress. As Azriel's eyes linger on your figure, you can't help but notice the way his gaze seems to heat up, his breath catching in his throat. A thrill shoots through you at the intensity of his stare, igniting a fire in the pit of your stomach.

For a moment, neither of you says anything, the air between you charged with unspoken desire. Then, with a slight cough to clear his throat, Azriel tears his gaze away from you, his cheeks tinged with a faint blush. "I'm sorry," he murmurs, his voice husky with emotion. "I didn't mean to stare." You shake your head, a small smile playing at the corners of your lips. "It's okay," you reply softly. "I... I don't mind."

You reach out tentatively, your hand finding his arm in a comforting gesture. "Azriel," you begin, your voice barely above a whisper, "there's something I've been wanting to tell you." He turns to face you, his eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that sends a shiver down your spine. "What is it?" he asks, concern lacing his every word. You take a deep breath, summoning all your courage. “I-“  Before you can finish your sentence, the door to the balcony swings open, and Feyre steps out, her eyes widening in surprise when she sees the two of you standing there together.

"Oh, sorry," she stammers, quickly averting her gaze. "I didn't mean to interrupt." Azriel clears his throat, stepping back slightly to give Feyre some space. "It's alright," he says, his voice a little strained. "We were just... talking." she nods, though there's a knowing glint in her eyes as she looks between the two of you. "Right, well, I'll leave you two to it then," she says, retreating back inside. You and Azriel exchange a glance, a silent understanding passing between you. It seems that fate has other plans for your conversation, at least for now.

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When Azriel winnowed into Rhys's study earlier that day, he was greeted by the familiar sight of his brother sitting behind the desk, a knowing smirk playing on his lips. Rhys's gaze meets his, and Azriel's eyes widen as the scent of you fills his senses, sending a jolt of anticipation coursing through him. It wasn’t dull and faded, not like the pillows in your bedroom. No, you had to have been in this room today. Rhys raises an eyebrow at his brother’s dumbfounded face, his smirk growing more pronounced. "Took you long enough to notice," he says, amusement lacing his tone.

Azriel's lips twitch into a half-smile as he strides further into the room, his movements fluid and graceful. "I was preoccupied," he replies, his voice gruff. "But I'm here now." Rhys chuckles, leaning back in his chair. "I can see that," he says, his eyes twinkling with mischief. "So, how was your mission?" Azriel takes a moment to compose himself, his mind still reeling from the unexpected encounter with your scent. "Successful," he replies, his voice steady despite the turmoil raging within him. His resolve snapped. "But I'll fill you in on the details later. Right now, I have other matters to attend to."

Rhys arches an eyebrow, a knowing smile playing on his lips. "Of course," he says, his tone teasing. "Wouldn't want to keep her waiting, would you?" Azriel's cheeks flush slightly at his brother's teasing remark, but he maintains his composure. "No," he says, his voice tinged with determination. "I wouldn't."

As Azriel takes flight for the House of Wind, his mind races with a whirlwind of emotions. Excitement courses through his veins, an unexpected thrill at the thought of seeing you again after nine long months apart. He hadn't dared to hope that you would be back, hadn't allowed himself to entertain the possibility of your return. And yet, here you were, your presence filling him with a sense of longing he just started to realize he'd been harboring.

The memory of your scent lingers in his mind, haunting him with its intoxicating sweetness. It's a scent he knows all too well, one that has the power to drive him to madness with desire. Even now, as he flies through the night sky, he can't shake the memory of you, the way your scent wraps around him like a warm embrace. Only yesterday had he thought about that exact smell while fucking his hand wishing it was yours instead.

Cursing himself for his wayward thoughts, Azriel frowns, attempting to push aside the overwhelming tide of emotions threatening to consume him.

As Azriel lands gracefully on the balcony of the House of Wind, he braces himself  for their reunion. He had just made his way here in record time, flying like his life depended on it. His heart pounds in his chest, the anticipation of seeing you again after so long almost too much to bear. With each step he takes, his eyes scan the crowded room, searching for your familiar form amidst the mass of guests.

And then he sees you.

His breath catches in his throat as he takes you in, his brain short-circuiting at the sight of you. You’re wearing a dress, and it clings to you like a second skin, accentuating every curve and contour of your body. His gaze lingers on the scars that trail across your back, a witness to the battles you had fought and the strength you possess. But it's not just your appearance that captivates him. It's the way you move, the grace and confidence with which you carry yourself, as if you own the very air around you. And you do, completely oblivious to the hungry and captivated stares you gain, turning heads everywhere you appear. Then his attention finally shifts to the Fae dancing with you, his hand lingering dangerously close to your exposed skin, and a surge of possessiveness courses through him. You’re wearing his colors, he realizes with a jolt, a flicker of irritation igniting within him at the thought of someone else daring to touch what belongs to him. A growl rumbles in Azriel's chest, low and threatening, as the surge of jealousy within him reaches a fever pitch. He takes a step forward, hazel eyes blazing with anger, his wings flaring out instinctively behind him.

But before he can make his move, Mor appears at his side, a knowing smirk on her lips as she nudges him playfully. "Easy there, big guy," she says, her voice low and playful. "No need to start a brawl on Starfall."

Azriel grits his teeth, torn between his desire to protect what's his and the knowledge that Mor is right. He takes a deep breath, forcing himself to reign in his emotions. While Azriel briefly exchanges pleasantries with Mor, his mind is consumed by thoughts of you. He can hardly focus on their conversation, his attention drawn inexorably back to where you stand across the room. He can feel his Illyrian instincts surging to the forefront, urging him to claim what's rightfully his. Shadowy tendrils dance around him frantically, pushing, pulling, as if they too wanted him to whisk you away from the other male’s embrace.

Finally having had enough, he excuses himself from Mor's company. Azriel prowls across the room with purposeful strides. His presence alone is enough to send a ripple of unease through the crowd, his menacing aura palpable as he approaches. When he reaches your side, the Fae male dancing with you seems to shrink back in fear, intimidated by the intensity of Azriel's gaze. But Azriel pays him no mind, his attention wholly consumed by you.

His shadows whispering words of possession and desire in his ears, chanting “Beautiful, beautiful” over and over. ”Ours, ours” Azriel can hardly contain the primal urges that surge within him. All he can think about is claiming you, marking you as his own for all the world to see. And as he draws closer, the air crackling with anticipation, he knows that he won't be satisfied until you’re in his arms, where you belong. He just wants to sink his teeth into the soft flesh of your neck. Suppressing a groan, he twirls you around, his hands easily finding their way onto your hips, softly squeezing them while leading the dance.

When the song came to an end, he felt like he was stood in the summer courts afternoon sun again. He needed some fresh air, some more quietness, and he selfishly wanted to be the sole bearer of your company.

By the Cauldron, as you made your way onto the balcony, him trailing behind you a few steps, he silently swore under his breath. Suddenly he was questioning his decision to be alone with you. Again, he asked himself why. Why have the last nine months been such a torture? Why did it feel like there was no oxygen left in his lungs when you and Mor had winnowed away and departed for your mission? And only now could he breathe again, truly breathe. And with every inhale, the scent of sweet lilies and freshly fallen rain assaulted his senses, clawing into the very essence of his being.

Only as you shifted on your feet slightly did he notice that he was straight up staring at you. Shit. As a soft blush made its way onto your cheeks then, he wanted to melt. Did you like the way he looked at you? Had the past nine months felt as maddening for you as they had felt for him? Questions upon questions infiltrated his mind as you looked upon Velaris together. And when you spoke again, wanting, no, needing to tell him something, he felt his stomach drop. Had you found someone on the continent?

When Feyre interrupted you mid-sentence solely by appearing, he didn’t know if he should curse or thank her for the disturbance. But the way your brows furrowed and how the light in your eyes ebbed out a little bit, made him feel a pang in his chest.

He cleared his throat, trying to shake off the sudden tension that had settled between you. And as Feyre excused herself again, he spoke up. "What were you saying?" he asked softly, his voice barely above a whisper. He needed to know, needed to hear your words, even if they shattered his heart into a million pieces. You hesitated for a moment, the words caught in your throat as you searched for an excuse, anything to deflect from the truth. "It's nothing," you replied, forcing a smile that didn't quite reach your eyes. "Just... something I've been thinking about lately. But it's not important." A lie.

He studied your expression, a flicker of disappointment crossing his features before he masked it with a small smile of his own. "Alright," he murmured, though he couldn't shake the feeling that there was more to your words than you were letting on. Turning back to Azriel, you couldn't help but notice the way the moonlight danced across his features, casting a soft glow around him that made your heart flutter again.

"You know," he began, breaking the comfortable silence between you, "I never expected to find you here tonight. It's... a pleasant surprise."

You chuckled softly, the sound carrying on the gentle breeze. "Well, it's not every day that we get to celebrate Starfall together," you replied, a hint of warmth in your voice. "I wouldn't miss it for the world." There was hidden meaning in your words that he didn’t fail to miss.

His eyes softened at your words, a silent understanding passing between you. "I'm glad you're here," he murmured, his gaze never leaving yours. "It wouldn't be the same without you."

Wearing a tender smile, Azriel reached out, his fingers lightly brushing against yours. "You look beautiful tonight," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. A soft blush crept onto your cheeks at his compliment, and you couldn't help but return his smile. "Thank you," you replied, your voice filled with sincerity. "You don't look too bad yourself."

He chuckled softly, the sound like music to your ears. "High praise coming from you," he teased, his eyes sparkling with amusement. You laughed, a light and carefree sound that echoed in the night air. "Well, I do have good taste," you quipped, nudging him playfully.

With trembling hands, you reached out to touch him, your fingers grazing lightly against his cheek as you traced the contours of his face. His eyes fluttered closed at your touch, a soft sigh escaping his lips as he leaned into your caress. Every nerve in his body seemed to come alive at your gentle caress, his senses overwhelmed by the intoxicating sensation of your touch. With a shaky breath, he opened his eyes, meeting your gaze with a depth of emotion that words could not express. In that moment, he felt as though he could drown in the ocean of your eyes.

With a tender yet sure touch, Azriel pulled you into his embrace, his arms enveloping you in a cocoon of warmth and safety. The scent of cedar and winter air surrounded you, his presence filling every corner of your senses. Azriel can't help himself, his urge to feel you pressed against him. He had missed you too much, and the way you just looked at him had him questioning why the hell he waited so long to do this. His hazel eyes glint as he lets them roam over your face, examining the gentle curve of your full lips, dipping down to follow the line of revealed skin, ending where your breasts are pressed firmly to his chest. The intensity of his stare sends shivers down your spine, your skin tingling with a delicious combination of desire and longing.

With each passing moment, the space between you seems to shrink, until there is barely a breath of air separating your bodies. You can feel the heat emanating from him, warming you from the inside out. His eyes, darkened with lust, hold you captive, their intensity rendering you speechless. You can't help but shiver under his gaze, your entire being yearning for the touch of his lips against yours.

As he leans in closer, his brows furrowed in concentration, you can't help but tremble under his touch. His tongue darts out to wet his bottom lip, a subconscious gesture. You feel the gentle pressure of his body against yours, his warmth seeping into your skin as he presses you back against the railing. Unable to contain the rush of emotions coursing through you, a soft whimper escapes your lips. "Azriel." His name leaves you sounding more like a soft whine than anything else. He inhales sharply, his chest rising and falling with each ragged breath as he savors the way his name rolls off your tongue. "say it again." he pleads, his voice husky with longing, his grip on you tightening ever so slightly. "Azriel..." You breathe out again. A sinful moan escapes his lips at the sound of his name spoken by you, his head bowing forward as he presses his forehead against yours. Your hands claw at his chest, fisting his shirt.

“Can I kiss you?” Azriel’s voice sounds strained as he asks you. All you can manage is a whimpered “Please.” And that’s all he needs, as if your words just shattered his restraint, he surges forward, capturing your lips with his own. You melt into each other’s touch, lips slanted over another, one of Azriel’s marred hands comes up to cup one of your cheeks, tilting your head back slightly to deepen the kiss. You press into him more, gasping when you feel a muscled thigh lodged between your legs, the friction causing you to shake slightly. Azriel swipes his tongue over your bottom lip then, venturing further as you gasp, tasting you. Both of you, completely tangled into each other, breathe heavily when you part. Only then do you realize that the stars had begun their journey, thousands upon thousands of bright streaks flashing through the sky.

The sparkling light of the falling stars reflected in Azriel’s eyes, making them shine even brighter than they already were. You followed his gaze as you saw his orbs wander to look behind you. The night sky shone with glittering starlight, painting Velaris in a colorful bright hue. In complete and utter awe, you shift slightly, watching the stars make their way to whatever destination. “Breathtaking.” Azriel mumbles huskily and you can’t help but agree. When you turn to face him again, you realize that he was still looking at you. A soft blush makes its way onto your already flushed face.

Azriel was a warrior, the Night Court’s Spymaster and Shadowsinger, he had fought plenty of battles before, always coming out on top and alive. But as he stared at you then, his heart rapidly beating in his chest, he found himself on his knees for the first time, loosing his restraint, loosing his composure. Because when he looked at you then, face bathed in the soft lights of the falling stars, skin flushed and lips swollen, it snapped. And when it did, everything made sense.

His eyes were wide and filled with something you couldn’t quite place. As you feel his lips crashing against yours once more, any words you might have spoken are lost in the fervor of the moment. The intensity of the kiss leaves you breathless, your mind swirling with a heady mixture of desire and adoration.

When you finally break apart, your chests heaving with the effort of controlling your racing hearts, you find yourself lost in the depths of his wide, expressive eyes. There's something in his gaze that speaks volumes, something you can't quite put into words but can feel deep within your soul. "Your face is a work of art," you whisper, the alcohol lending a soft haze to your words. Excitement clouding your head, the compliment spills from your lips. Azriel's features, sharp and defined, seem to glow with an ethereal light in the dimness of the night. His hazel eyes, like pools of molten gold, capture your gaze, drawing you in.

"Yeah?" he hums in response, his hands finding their way to the back of your thighs, pulling you closer to him. The warmth of his touch sends a shiver down your spine, igniting a fire within you that threatens to consume every inch of your being. And when he inhales deeply, the scent of your Arousal hits him with full force and he snarls lowly. "Your legs should frame it then,"

Your breath hitches at his words, eyes widening at what he suggests. Speechless you try to regain your composure. Then, with a coy smile, you lean in closer to him, your lips brushing against his ear as you whisper, "Careful, Azriel. You're playing with fire." The teasing tone in your voice betrays the longing that simmers beneath the surface, aching to be unleashed.

As the flames of desire engulf you both, Azriel's lips part in a husky whisper, his voice dripping with primal need. "I don't mind getting burned," he murmurs, his breath hot against your neck. With a trembling hand, you reach up to cup his cheek, your touch gentle yet filled with an intensity that mirrors the blaze in his eyes. "Then let us burn together," you whisper.

In a raw display of desire, Azriel's demeanor shifts, his jaw clenched with a fierce determination as he gazes at you with narrowed eyes filled with unbridled hunger. Without a word, he lifts you effortlessly into his arms, his hands roaming possessively over your body as he pulls you close. With a soft gasp, you wrap your legs around his hips, feeling the heat of his body against yours as you press closer together. The sensation of his hands wandering to your ass, squeezing firmly, sends a shiver of anticipation coursing through you.

In the blink of an eye, Azriel winnows you away. The world blurs around you, the sensation of movement disorienting yet thrilling. Before you can fully comprehend the transition, you find yourselves standing in the intimate sanctuary of his bedroom. Around you, the air is charged with anticipation, heavy with the promise of what is to come. Azriel's gaze meets yours, smoldering with desire as he sets you down gently on the bed, his hands still lingering on your hips. And as he looks at you then, looking deep into your eyes to search for any hesitation or regret on your part, you speak.

“Claim me.” Your voice is confident and soft. “I’m yours, Mate.”

With a primal growl, Azriel's restraint shatters, consumed by the raw, unbridled desire coursing through his veins. He leans in, capturing your lips in a passionate kiss, a fierce hunger driving his movements. In that moment, there is no holding back, no inhibitions—only the primal instinct to claim you as his own.

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I Can't believe it!! What do you guys think? Let's just say Part 3 will be very steamy. I truly hope you enjoyed reading this.

Tag-list:

@impossibelle @paleidiot @tele86 @namelesssaviour @sstrohma @that-one-little-soybean @mybestfriendmademe @durgenyx @shinyghosteclipse @katherinejess

[skyenish]

| Vil Schoenheit analysis and animatic: my interpretation on Vil’s character and overblot 👑 |

———

(I haven’t read the newest book 7 chapters yet since I play on EN)

I’ve always interpreted Vil’s story as one of validation. He may be confident, he knows his worth, and yet he can’t give himself the validation he wants/needs. Hes got tenacity and believes in working hard to be his perfect self, which is admirable, but one must wonder how much of that ‘perfect self’ is influenced by others. What really is ‘the fairest of them all’? He works so hard to achieve what he thinks it is, and even after all that hard work he’s still second best to Neige.

Vil isn’t dumb, he knows his worth, he knows that Neige works hard too, and yet it stings. Do others dont appreciate how much effort you put in? He chases validation and because of that can’t truly love himself, which is exactly what Rook meant with what he said to Vil after book 5’s ending, something how about when Vil is old and wrinkly, as long as he truly believes he’s the fairest of them all, he is.

When Vil tried to cheat, tried to poison Neige, his whole world collapsed. His overblot was a very internal issue, unlike the other Overblotters, because he wasn’t being tenacious, he took a shortcut, which he famously doesn’t like. He’s the monster he thinks others think he is, partly because of his typecasting and the bullying he endured when he was younger. He let other people affect him so much, it’s a huge part of his overblot.

This is just my interpertation of course, but I barely see anyone talk about Vil’s character and OB besides his surface level jealousy towards Neige, and I think we should talk more about him. He is already trying, working so hard, but it’ll never be enough for him for as long as he isn’t happy with it himself. His perfection is toxic. Its admirable how hard he works, and he’s an incredibly smart, talented and even confident person, but his desire for perfection, for validation, would’ve destroyed him. There’s a reason he overblotted, and its not just because ‘waaah waaah I always get typecasted as the villain and mu rival is gonna win a competition 🥺🥺’, its so, SO much more!

I want more discussions about Vil because he has so much more depth than people give him credit for. He teaches us the important lesson of loving yourself, though he’s not very good at it himself yet! I’m sorry if this analysis is all over the place, I just wanted to ramble, and I just so happened to have made a sort of corresponding animatic!

Uhh that was my ted talk about Vil. Falls of stage and breaks my neck

[lovings4turn]

𝐋𝐈𝐕𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐃𝐄𝐀𝐃 𝐆𝐈𝐑𝐋 — send in someone i write for + a prompt(s) and i'll write a lil blurb

oscar piastri + going in for a kiss and either bumping noses or foreheads!!!!

steph this is so fucking oscar coded it's actually mind-blowing to me omg ,,, thanks so much for sending this in sweetheart , loved writing it <333

is it possible to face medical complications from enduring an excessive amount of excitement? you’re sure you’re about to find out.

because oscar, your oscar, has just won his first formula one grand prix, and your heart is fit to burst with pride. so many years of hard work, long nights and early mornings, and determination have finally paid off. on top of that, you’re lucky enough to be there to finally witness the fruits of his labour.

when he clambers out of the car, face still obscured by his racing helmet, you can picture the beaming smile hidden beneath, brighter than the sun currently beaming down onto the racetrack.

along with the rest of his team, you’ve rushed over to the pitlane, secured a spot front and centre to bear witness to his adrenaline fuelled celebration, his fist pumping the air with a vigour you’ve never seen him possess.

despite the chaos going on around him, oscar’s eyes instantly dart to you, somehow able to pinpoint you in the crowd of people shouting his name and whooping.

he wastes no time.

within seconds, oscar is right in front of you, tugging his helmet and balaclava from his head before pulling you into a tight hug. you’re babbling, spewing a jumbled speech littered with praise and congratulations, yet oscar looks at you like you’re reciting poetry.

perhaps it’s the excitement, or the camera inches away from his face, but when oscar leans in to press a celebratory kiss to your lips, he misses. instead of lips meeting, his nose bumps your own, the movement clumsy yet endearing.

the both of you groan, and all oscar can do is laugh. of course his first race win would be eclipsed by his inability to land a kiss to his girlfriend’s lips.

lando will never let him live this down, especially not when the whole ordeal has been caught on camera; oscar just thanks god that his overtaking today was far smoother than his attempt to initiate a kiss.

he’s rushed off quickly after for his post race interview and podium ceremony, and through his hazy cloud of excitement, you’re still at the forefront of his mind.

so yeah, he may have fumbled this celebration, but god, will he make it up to you later.

[caplanbuckybarnes]

Heaven High (logan)

Summary: Logan tells you how much he adores you.

WC: 1K

Warnings: angst

A/N; there was a mistake that I placed this under a fluff. I was mistaking it with another Logan fic that I have in the works. I apologize.

Read on Ao3!

Want to be tagged in future fics?

The quiet hum of the hospital room buzzed in your ears, a dull contrast to the chaos roaring in your heart. You laid still, eyes half-lidded, body fragile and weak. The steady beeping of the heart monitor was the only sound marking time, but you didn’t need to hear it to know the truth. Time was running out.

Logan sat by your side, his calloused hand wrapped around yours. His thumb absently traced circles over your skin, a soothing rhythm he had adopted without thinking, like he was trying to will your heart to beat a little longer. He didn’t say much; he never did when the silence felt this heavy. But you knew he was there. He always was.

“Logan…” you whispered, your voice a raspy shadow of what it once was. The simple act of speaking felt like it took more energy than you had left.

He turned his head toward you instantly, his expression softening at the sound of your voice. The fierce intensity he carried everywhere, the weight of the world he seemed to bear on his shoulders, faded for a moment as his gaze met yours.

“Hey,” he said softly, leaning closer. His voice was gravelly, rough around the edges like everything about him, but there was warmth in it that only you ever really got to hear. “Don’t talk. Just rest.”

A weak smile tugged at the corners of your lips, but the effort was too much. “I don’t… have time to rest,” you murmured, your chest aching with the weight of what was coming. “Not anymore.”

Logan’s jaw clenched, the muscles in his face tightening as if he could physically stop the truth from sinking in. He had fought for you—God, how he had fought—but not even the Wolverine could win this battle. His healing factor couldn’t heal you.

“You don’t get to talk like that,” he growled, though there was no real anger behind his words. Just pain. The kind of pain he couldn’t fix, and it was tearing him apart. “You’re not done yet.”

You closed your eyes briefly, trying to summon the strength to push through, if only for him. The man who had been your rock, your shelter in the storm. The man who had loved you in ways he hadn’t thought he was capable of.

“I wish…” Your breath caught, and Logan immediately reached up, brushing a strand of hair from your face, his touch gentle. “I wish I could stay longer. With you.”

He didn’t say anything at first, but his grip on your hand tightened ever so slightly, as if holding you a little closer would keep you from slipping away. His brows furrowed, the strain of holding it together evident in the tense line of his mouth.

“You’re not leavin’ me yet,” he said, his voice low, almost desperate. “I’m not lettin’ you go.”

A tear slid down your cheek, the weight of your reality settling between the two of you like a shadow you couldn’t escape. You had been through so much together—more battles than either of you could count, more heartache than most could endure. But this? This was the fight Logan couldn’t win.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, the words breaking your heart as much as his. “I’m sorry I can’t stay.”

Logan’s breath hitched, and for the first time since you had known him, you saw the crack in his armor. The Wolverine, unbreakable, unstoppable—shattered.

“Don’t say that,” he choked out, his hand trembling slightly as he cupped your face. “You don’t have to be sorry. You didn’t ask for this.”

You let out a soft, shaky breath, your hand reaching up weakly to cover his. His skin felt rough under your fingertips, but it was warm—comforting. You had always felt safe with him, even when the world around you had been anything but.

“I wish I could tell you… how much you’ve meant to me,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. “How much I love you.”

Logan closed his eyes, his forehead pressing gently against yours. He stayed like that, silent for a moment, as if trying to memorize the feel of you, the sound of your breath, the warmth of your skin. When he pulled back, his eyes were glassy, filled with emotions he couldn’t contain any longer.

“You don’t have to tell me,” he murmured, his voice raw, breaking. “I know. I’ve always known.”

A soft smile tugged at your lips as you gazed up at him. Even now, even with the end so close, you couldn’t help but marvel at the way he looked at you—like you were the only thing that mattered in the world.

“Good,” you breathed, closing your eyes for a moment, feeling the exhaustion pulling at you. “Because I adore you, Logan. I hope… I hope the heavens know how much.”

Logan’s grip on your hand tightened, his thumb brushing over your knuckles like he could hold you there with him just a little longer. He looked away for a moment, as if he couldn’t bear to hear those words. But then he turned back, his voice a broken whisper as he leaned closer to you.

“They know,” he rasped, his lips brushing your temple. “And if they don’t… I’ll make sure they do.”

A tear slipped down his cheek, but you were too weak to wipe it away this time. You just stared up at him, your vision fading, but all you could see was him—the man who had been so much more than a hero to you. He had been your everything.

“Logan…”

“I’m right here, darlin’,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “I’m not goin’ anywhere. Not without you.”

You smiled weakly, your eyelids fluttering as the world grew dimmer. You wanted to say more, to tell him just how much he had saved you—how much his love had meant. But the words wouldn’t come. Your breath was shallow now, the end closer than ever.

Logan stayed there, holding you close, his own heart breaking as yours faltered.

“I love you,” he whispered, his voice cracking with emotion. “More than I ever knew how to say.”

And as your eyes finally closed, you felt his lips press against your skin, his voice the last thing you heard before the darkness took you.

“I hope heaven knows how much I adore you too.”

[sharksnshakes]

New Perspective- Leon Kennedy

After losing a bet with friend and fellow DSO agent Leon Kennedy, he takes you for a ride on his motorcycle. Unforeseen consequences include windburn, watery eyes, and maybe developing a crush on him. Maybe.

AN; so i'm back with another installation of bestie leon wanting to be more than besties. you can read as a continuation of this one, anyways post-re2 leon is still on the brain and likely will be forever

Wordcount; 1.1k

TW; mentions of a potential motorcycle crash, mildly suggestive

Never again are you making a bet with Leon Kennedy.

"What were the terms again? Five minutes?" He asks, a shit eating grin on his face.

You speak through gritted teeth. "Yeah. Five."

Leon's grin widens.

"Shut up," you say halfheartedly, warily glancing down at the motorcycle you're both perched on.

"Didn't say anything, sweetheart."

You roll your eyes and zip your jacket up.

You're not sure how Leon's bike is supposed to safely carry you at all, let alone through busy downtown streets, without throwing one of you off or blowing up or spinning out of control or something. Suffice to say, you're not a fan of motorcycles--Leon knew that when you'd made the bet, and you'd only agreed because you'd been so certain that you'd win. Why else risk life and limb on the back of his Ducati?

That was the thing about Leon Kennedy and bets, though, because you've come to realize that he's got a way of winning regardless of how the odds are stacked. It's great for field work, but it's also a massive pain in your ass, because (news flash) you lost and now you'll have to endure a five minute ride on his death trap of a motorcycle.

"Let's get it over with," you sigh, looping your arms around his waist. The engine purrs beneath you, sending a shudder through your body.

"Y'know," he muses, and you can hear the grin in his voice, "I bet I could do a wheelie."

You laugh, you hope he doesn't feel the slight tremble in your hands, you hope he can't hear the nervous twinge to your voice. "Absolutely fucking not."

He drives slowly through the parking garage. Most DSO staff have already left for the night, and it's probably better that way, because the last thing the two of you need is for a hotshot supervisor to call you out on your antics. Meaning Hunnigan. Because if Hunnigan saw that neither of you were working on the literal mounds of paperwork gracing your desks, she'd probably hit you with a Jeep.

"Might wanna hold on tighter than that," Leon says offhandedly, revving the engine as you approach the street entrance.

"I'm not your backpack, Kennedy."

He chuckles. "Didn't think you'd know the lingo."

"You know that nobody says 'lingo' anymore, right? This is why Claire says you sound like an old man."

"Well, suit yourself," he shrugs, and suddenly you're rocketing into traffic.

You curse violently, digging your fingers into Leon's sides hard enough to bruise. You swear you feel him laughing, but you can't hear a damn thing over the engine and you're more focused on not falling into oncoming traffic.

"Fuck you, Kennedy," you mumble against his leather jacket, your eyes tightly shut.

The agent banks around a turn and you just barely hold back another string of curses. As his body shifts in the seat, you can feel the muscles in his sides stretch and shift and move beneath your fingers, and, wow, he's built, and now your cheeks are pricking with heat. You try not to think about it.

"You okay back there?" Leon calls, bringing the bike to a slow stop at a red light.

"Haven't decided yet?"

"Well, lucky for you, we're at-" he stops, glancing quickly at his watch. "-The two minute mark. Only three to go."

"Technically," you say, peeling yourself off of his back, "It's already been five, if you factor in the drive from the parking garage. So I say we head back."

He casts a glance over his shoulder at you, a smile playing across his lips. "That wasn't the deal, sweetheart."

"Would you quit with the 'sweetheart'?"

"You'd prefer 'backpack', then?"

"I'd prefer nothing, actually," you tease back, even though a tiny voice in your head riots at the thought. This banter with Leon is nothing new. You go back and forth like this in the office, on jobs, whenever, but perched on the back of Leon's bike has you feeling like you've crossed a line with the teasing somehow, like maybe he's actually flirting with you and maybe you're not actually minding it.

"Yeah, well..." The light changes to green. "Nevermind. Hang on, yeah?"

This time, you're feeling brave enough to divert some of your attention from clinging to Leon like your life depends on it, and instead you glance to the sides and take in the bustling downtown scene around you.

The sun's just barely set, casting a dusky haze over the streets. Pedestrians clog the sidewalk, passing through pools of golden lamp-post light; some duck into stores, some leave their apartments, some walk their dogs. You pass a restaurant with outdoor seating, a bookstore, a bank, and you've seen all of these places before on your daily commute, but the back of Leon's motorcycle is affording you a new perspective.

You turn your head to look at the other side of the street and catch a waft of Leon's cologne in the process. It's faint, but distinctly him. It's enough to bring the tiny voice in the back of your head to center stage, where it drenches the situation in rosy colors and 'what if's and 'sweethearts', grabbing you by the shoulders and practically injecting fantasized scenarios into your head. Everything from grocery shopping to painting your living room to getting in bed--

Oh, fuck, are you being a creep?

"Just another minute!" Leon shouts.

You nod against his back and swallow with a dry mouth. Your cheeks are flushed, you can feel it, and you hope you'll be able to play it off as windburn. The last minute of your ride is spent not unlike the first: with eyes slammed shut, ignoring Leon's heartbeat at your chest and ignoring the way your own heart whispers that there's more to be had here than just a friendship.

When Leon finally parks the bike in the garage and cuts the engine, your chest unclenches. Your five minutes are over and you are never getting on a motorcycle again.

The blond helps you off, looking far too amused.

"So, sweetheart... you liked the ride, yeah?" He raises his brows at you suggestively, but it's so exaggerated that you're positive he's just doing this on purpose.

You still nearly choke on your spit.

All the way back to the office, the two of you go back and forth over whether the Ducati's evil and dangerous and a horrible investment. He's laughing, insisting it isn't necessarily deadly, and you keep laughing incredulously and saying that's not a strong argument. Things feel normal again, and you've effectively written off the tiny voice in the back of your head as a bizarre, anxiety-induced response to your first and last ride on a motorcycle.

But his hand lingers on your shoulder for a little too long when you say you're heading out for the night, and after the rapid-fire scenarios that flashed through your head on that goddamned bike, you're not so sure you got rid of that tiny voice after all.

[obbystars]

Safe Haven

Synopsis: It’s not like he minds if you use his hideout as a safe spot. Just be sure to leave at the earliest convenience before they get suspicious.

Notes: Sebastian Solace x GN!Reader / just a bunch of scenarios / not exactly romantic lol / practicing third person in this one. you’re not named and only referred to as expendable. / reader repeated deaths, mentions of blood and teethmarks

Credits: dividers by @cafekitsune

(got some dialogue that triggered when you hide in Sebastian’s shop as an angler passes by. obviously that inspired me lol. and yes this was being made while the update came out, i finally got the stupid we outta wall dwellers badge because of it. also sebastian can win against pandemonium apparently)

Sebastian was just looking through some of the documents he’s received from some of the EXR-P teams. He only just recently moved his shop so he figured it should be quiet for a while, but just as he thought of that, the lights had flickered. Not once, but twice. It was then followed up by the sound of someone running and crawling through the vent. Just a single, and familiar expendable.

They only just managed to make it inside his shop before an angler dashed by with a loud shriek. It was gone in an instant.

“A second later and I would’ve had to start cleaning out that vent,” he smirked, “Welcome back, friend,”

“Hi!” They waved as they stood up.

The one who just can’t stay dead. Of course it’s them. He’s not sure if they’re just stupid to not have reached the crystal yet despite his reluctant assist, or they have some other reason he doesn’t know about. They seemed oddly happy to see him almost every time, and they love to annoy him.

Once he started resorting to shooting them for using their flash beacon on him, they suddenly stopped and only teased him with it. They like to leave and re-enter his shop too just for the fun of it. There were times where they came in and left without buying anything but then came back and bought something.

On the bright side, they keep their distance which he’s actually glad for. They never got too close for comfort. They stay relatively near the vent when they talk to him and only approach him to grab items off his tail. As for the other teams who went much further, he should’ve just shot them.

At this point, Sebastian’s thoughts and gaze drift off elsewhere. The radio still spewing garbage noise, the piles of documents on the desk, his tail feeling awfully lighter now.

Absence of shuffling and footsteps. They’re being awfully quiet.

His fins twitch and he turns his attention back to the expendable. They got the stuff they wanted, but they’re sitting by the boxes in the far corner. They’re tired. They look like they’re dozing. It’s nothing new with them, but considering their circumstances, he thinks he’d be just as exhausted as they are. Being sent down here, dying, and doing everything all over again until they get that crystal. He wonders how they haven’t gone insane yet, or maybe they already were and they stay down here for no apparent reason.

Now that Sebastian thinks about it, a lot of the teams see his shop as a breath of fresh air from the things they had to endure. Some didn’t stay too long, while others had to be ushered out. His shop isn’t 100% safe, and they certainly aren’t safe with him. Sure it keeps them out of sight from the anglers, but he swears one of them got dragged out of the vent by a wall dweller.

Sebastian lets out a sigh and decides to go back to looking over the documents, especially the ones you placed on the desk in a separate pile. He’ll go over the flash drives with Painter if time allows it. Maybe he’ll finally have something that’ll get Urbanshade’s rivals to come over and him out of here in exchange for the assets here. Innovation hopefully.

After some time, he sees that you’re still here and closes the document he was just reading through.

“Hey, stay any longer and Urbanshade might get suspicious that they’ve lost your signal. Better get running,”

They hummed and quickly stretched out their legs and arms. They were about to leave, but he blocks the exit with his tail and clears his throat.

“I think you’re forgetting something. On the table,”

“Oh,” they laughed, “Thanks,”

He moved his tail away to let them leave, and they did just that but now without saying bye. He sighs. He’ll never understand them and their odd behavior towards him.

Sebastian had already moved shop after a few hours and along the way, found a few bodies to loot. He even found them. He took any and all he could take with him and made sure they were all fully powered with fresh new batteries. He takes one final look at them. Looks like something caught them off guard, and seeing the teeth marks over their neck, he can guess what exactly it was. He wasn’t sure if they didn’t look back on purpose or not. Part of him does want to know why they haven’t gotten to the crystal yet.

It was strange though. Usually those things leave nothing behind, but maybe they just didn’t have the chance as someone else might’ve been with them. Maybe they crossed paths at some point and decided to continue on together. It was a rare occurrence, but not impossible. There’s only so many ways to get to the crystal, after all. Seeing as the power’s still up, that other person probably didn’t get too far.

Once he found a new place that seemed good, and one that would be in the path the EXR-P would take, he organized everything and put some items on his tail. He turns off his lure for the time being. It’s not like he absolutely needs it, especially in the dark. His eyes grew accustomed to it, quite literally too.

After a few hours, he can hear the door on the other side of the vent open. One thing he’s also picked up on is that he can tell whether it’s them or not if they’re not rushing through like last time. He already knows it’s them.

“Oh hey! Get this. I found your corpse a bit ago, great haul by the way, lots of goods to pillage, took your items, replaced the batteries and voila! Good as new! Don’t worry, you can have them back for a price of course,”

They smiled as they looked up at him, “I’ve got a good haul this time. Think I’ll have those stuff back now,”

Sebastian watches them pick up the items that were originally in their possession before they died. He already noticed the flash beacon on their belt.

He can faintly hear footsteps coming from outside followed up with something crawling through the vent. He assumed at first that they didn’t come alone this time, but upon seeing the armless figure emerge, he unholstered his shotgun and didn’t hesitate to pull the trigger. The expendable almost jumped as they turned around.

“Disgusting things…”

“Oh wow, thanks for that,” they looked up at him.

“You’re seriously going to miss the fact there’s footsteps approaching again?” He gives them a smile, “Don’t worry, you’re safe in here with me. I’m joking, you’re not,”

They suddenly twirl the flash beacon in their hand and pointed it at him. He grits his teeth and points his gun to them this time.

“I dare you,”

They only laughed and stored it away on their belt, “Nah, I’ll pass. The first time was enough,”

Sebastian scoffed and holstered his gun. Before they left, they bought some batteries and refilled their flashlight and flash beacon and they remembered to pick up the key card this time. They even went out of their way to drag the wall dweller out of the shop and do god knows what with it. Hopefully dump it out into a hole or maybe even burn it. That just means less work for him.

Sebastian goes to grab the documents they left for him, but just as he did, the lights flickered and he hears them running back.

“Back so soon?” He teases.

They shrugged with a smile, but it quickly fades as the familiar sound of a broken chorus is heard. Instinctively, his hand reached for his gun as his tail covered the vent. They even moved back towards him.

This wasn’t the first time that thing passed by, and one of those times, he ran into it and managed to escape from it. No doubt that the others it consumed since then had healed the wounds he gave it, and right now, this is a bad spot to be fighting it in. It’s way too cramped and the only way out is up. It’s still narrow and doesn’t make the situation any better.

Luckily, the creature passes by without noticing. The expendable turns to him with a grin, “So. I’m not safe in here with you?”

“Not. At. All,” he points his gun to them, “I would’ve left you here if that thing saw us,”

They laughed, “Yup, I know,”

“You are shockingly okay with that, which is mildly concerning,”

“You’re not the first person to leave me behind to die, so…”

“Looks like somebody needs to find better friends,”

They shrugged and hung around the shop for a little bit longer, checking the things they just bought. Once they were done, they waved to him and leaves.

“Try not to ruin the merchandise, yeah?” He calls out.

Sebastian wonders if he’d find their body again when he moves shop again. Will it be an angler this time? Or will nothing be left to find? Now that’d be a waste. That blacklight you had could fetch him more data.

One good thing about being able to get to places Sebastian wouldn’t have originally is that he can move place to place without having to worry about Urbanshade’s guardsmen too much. The tunnels he found were always nice but navigation can be a little difficult if you don’t know where you’re going. He’s not too worried about that, however. As long as it leads him away from trouble, he’ll go with it.

Sebastian was about to drop down into the room just below until he spotted a familiar expendable crawl through the vent. He paused and watched them with a grin.

“Huh… He’s not here,” they looked around for a bit as they continued to mutter to themself, “Am I late or is he late?”

Slowly and quietly, Sebastian climbed down towards them. He was careful to not make any sound while he was at it, and he only hoped you didn’t look up. They were just within arm’s reach now. Sebastian slowly reaches out, then grabs them by the back of their neck and pulls them up to him. They let out a yelp and started squirming but stopped once they saw it was him.

“You REALLY suck at watching out for monsters, huh?”

They sighed, “Yeah yeah, you’re very funny Sebastian. Now put me down!”

“Oh sure,” instead of gently placing them back down, he dropped them from that height and they fell right on their bottom.

With the crystal container they were provided, it didn’t help cushion their fall at all. In fact, it may have made it worse. Sebastian drops down in front of them and chuckled as they groaned.

“Maybe be careful with what you wish for,”

“Ow…”

“Anyway, onto business,” he moves on, “I’ve got quite a selection for you this time,”

They push themself up, still slightly rubbing their bottom, and eventually turned to Sebastian. There was the usual light sources, black light included shockingly enough, a medkit, and… Huh.

They pointed to the flesh of a wall dweller’s jaw, “How much for that?”

Sebastian in turn gives them a very odd look, “Out of all the things I have available, you want THAT?”

“Hey, you put it on sale. Unless maybe you had an empty slot and the empty slot bothered you that much, so you put wall dweller flesh on your tail,”

He stares at them and groans, “500 worth of data,”

“Done deal,”

And the moment the expendable paid for it, they plopped it in their mouth. Sebastian feels as if they’re long gone at this point, though anyone stupid enough to actually accept to come down here probably already were.

Wait, that time where he shot the wall dweller… Don’t tell him…

He stopped thinking about it, “You’re so disgusting…”

“Helps me whenever that shark fries my brain a little. Or Painter manages to hit me,”

“What are you even talking about?”

They looked up at him with wide eyes, “Hm? Well, eating their flesh gives me a nice regeneration perk. Dying gets rid of it, obviously,”

“Wait, what?”

“Yeah! You didn’t know? Shockingly, they taste a little like chicken,”

They did. They absolutely did.

“So… You’re telling me that eating a piece of them gives you, what? Regenerative abilities?”

They nodded, “Yup! It’s pretty convenient,”

“And that’s not in their document because…?” He muttered to himself this time.

“Who knows? Anyway, see you in my next life!”

Yeah, they’ve lost it. Definitely.