#i want the sun and flowers and green leaves

[lock-my-feelings-in-a-jar]

Hope you're doing well. 😊

i am doing sooooooo well(despite russ's facebook page dangling mystery information in front of everybody's faces and me possibly exploding soon)

i hope you're also doing well!!

💜

[a-simple-imagine]

Don't They Know a Rabbit Can't Cry

Synopsis: while travelling the witches' road you're forced to confront the two witches who left you centuries ago without an explanation.

Pairing: Agatha Harkness x fem!reader x Rio Vidal

Words: 2.3k+

WARNINGS - swearing, choking, knives, nightmares, brief mentions of burning and being buried alive and playful use of 'mommy'

A LIFE ONCE LIVED //

It's a quiet evening as you pluck wildflowers in the wake of the setting sun. You would have to head home soon; to avoid the danger of navigating your way back in the dark. The older witch did not like you being out alone at night but you weren't quite done yet. The bouquet had to be perfect. Not that she would ever say otherwise. not to you anyway. Too soft. Too sweet. She had a soft spot for you. They both did. You twist the delicate stem between your fingers. Lavender. Beautiful. Intoxicating. And... hot. Sizzling against the pad of your pointer finger and thumb. And searing into the skin. You drop it quickly. Flames swallowing the single flower. Bizarre. You take another. plucking it from its spot. Flames shoot up from the ground surrounding you entirely. Red hot and roaring as the flowers make way for beautiful flames that dance in the breeze. Creeping closer and closer. Quicker and quicker. Until you feel it burn against your skin.

You jolt up. Sweaty and warm in the night's cold embrace. You're safe. Right now at least. No fire. No nothing. You rub your temple. Just a nightmare. They'd been more frequent as of late. Little flashes of the past engulfed in fiery fury. Fitting. The makeshift campsite was still. The ashes of the small fire dance in the breeze. Witches litter the ground in a moment of respite. You didn't know them but you imagine they're quite desperate. Most weren't brave enough to even dare travel the witches' road anymore. Pushing up you decide to go for a walk. Not far just enough to feel the cool air and calm your heart. Away from prying eyes. There wasn't much around here anyway.

"can't sleep?" it's a startling thing. To hear such a familiar sound so abruptly. It brings with it a quickened heart. A look of surprise. that voice. An unpleasant reminder of the past. That's all this trip seemed to be. A constant trip down memory lane. In many ways, you wish you had never agreed but maybe your darkened heart may still hold a few soft spots.

"just needed a minute alone,"

"That's a dangerous game around here," there is a playfulness to her tone. one that makes your jaw tense.

"can you just go away?" you ask. "I can't- I can't deal with this right now."

"playing hard to get?" just as playful but different. Still familiar. Annoyingly so. "what happened to that sweet girl who brought me flowers every day."

"don't," a threat. You wished not to relive the past right now. Not with them. They didn't deserve to remember you so fondly.

"made us little flower crowns." her voice travelled the woods. Surrounding you from all directions. Trapping you in your spot.

"stop."

"used to bring us fresh bread."

"fuck off," you bite back with an equally sharp turn. Subdued anger began to rise at the mere sight of them. Agatha Harkness. The harbinger of your nightmares. The years had been kind to her appearance but if rumours are to be believed she had a dark reputation. Evil. Soulless. Murderer. Maybe in another lifetime, you would have disagreed. A green witch stood to her side. Far enough away for you to know they weren't on good terms either. She sported a signature smirk you wanted to slap away. Rio Vidal. Infuriating in every conceivable way. They both brought different feelings. Similar but still different. "why can't you just leave me alone?

"we're only checking on you, dear,"

"After such a scary nightmare." Rio teased. "do you need to get in mommy's bed tonight?"

You take a deep breath. Don't raise to her level. Don't give her the satisfaction. It's not quite admitting defeat but you're tired. Falling against a nearby tree. "please leave." you let your head fall back against the bark.

"I'm sure Agatha won't mind,"

"leave the poor girl alone," as always Agatha comes in to mediate. It's always just a little misleading. The woman crouches down before you. Glassy eyes bore into yours and for a moment you're that girl again. The one they remember. Who picked flowers and planned picnics? Ran in the meadow and liked to sit at the edge of the lake. Who held on tight to Agatha's hand as she walked you home. You didn't have much back then. Lived in a small cottage in the woods with your family. The older witch came into your life so abruptly. Looking back on it now she probably just saw a naive girl she could play with. "are you okay?" her question brings you back to reality. The here and now. Stuck on the road with a bunch of washed-up witches and the two people you hate most in the world. Stuck in a never-ending cycle of reliving the past. The end seemed so far away. Who knows if you'll even make it that far with this useless bunch. "do you wanna tell us about it?"

"Agatha," said softly.

"yes, dear?"

"fuck. Off." quiet but firm. You can tell she wasn't expecting it. A little chuckle sounds from behind her. The witch raises.

"fine." Agatha answers. "forgotten how stubborn you can be." your eyes trail after her as she begins to walk away, Rio takes a moment before following. And the question that has been bubbling in your chest for centuries finally comes up.

"Why did you leave me?" they slow to a stop. Yet to turn back. Did you even really want to know the answer? Perhaps it was a question best left unanswered. Years of bitterness already seeped into your bones. Little to be said to make you less angry at them. Less murderous rage. "what did I do?"

"Nothing," Agatha urges. Short and simple. No explanation needed apparently. "don't stay up too late,"

"then why?" you asked again. a little louder. A little firmer. Why was she acting like this? Pretending she cared. It was infuriating.

"Just tell her," Rio presses, turning back to you.

"don't," Agatha places her hand on Rio's shoulder but that doesn't stop the green witch from sulking towards you. A malicious little smile.

"come on, look at her," a knife pointed in your direction as she makes her way over. "just as pitiable as she always has been." she crouches down in front of you much like Agatha had before. But you don't see that girl you once were. Her eyes fill you with anger. It's strange to think you used to admire her so. Used to put flowers in her hair, and she let you. The tip of her blade forces your head up ever so slightly. "A pathetic little girl. Scared of the world," a sharp pain. You swallow hard  "scared of anything real."

"Rio," Agatha walks up, towering over you two. "put it away,"

"Why should I?" she wonders. Pressing a little harder. "tell her."

"What happened to you?" Agatha questions. Your eyes flicker up to her. Did she really want to know or was it diversion. "where does this hate come from?"

"you left me," you reply. A loud bark of laughter from Rio as her blade lowers.

"no," the woman shakes her head slowly. "that's... not it."

"boring," Rio groans loudly. "I didn't lie, y'know? I know you don't want to believe me but it's true. Isn't it Agatha?" the woman rises to her feet. Patting the other witch on the shoulder. "we left because you were weak."

"it... it wasn't quite like that," Agatha offers out a hand. You brush it off, standing up. "we thought you'd be better off."

"alone?"

"without us." Agatha corrects. "you were so..." her eyes trail over you. "different back then. You didn't know you were a witch. You were just so..."

"innocent," Rio insists.

"no- well, yes but not in the way you might think. You just needed a push and we were being so careful,"

"soft," Rio interjects once more.

This little game of back-and-forth was cute. But you didn't care. Rio was using it as an excuse to get some sick sense of pleasure from throwing in insults while Agatha was doing anything to avoid saying what she thought. You knew Agatha. She could be just as mean as Rio. "can you get to the point?"

"you already know," you ignore Rio, looking straight at Agatha.

"We wanted to protect you," you can't help but roll your eyes. That was the best excuse she could come up with. Some fairytail bullshit. "felt easier to leave." you glance at Rio who looked just as over it as you did.

"Agatha thought you'd be better off without us. That we shouldn't be dragging you into a world you weren't ready for. Blah blah blah. Too weak to come with us. If we left you wouldn't get caught up in anything bad,"

"Rio was actually the one who didn't want to go,"

"Whatever," she huffs. Her gaze down at the knife in her hand; twisting the edge against the tip of her forefinger. "I thought it'd be worse if we just left you. that it'd fuck with you- we just needed to be harsher."

"but I was right,"

"you were wrong," Rio answers.

"How? I mean look at her," Agatha ushers towards you. "a full-fledged witch. Survived centuries. That's something. You didn't need us."

"do you wanna tell her or should I?" you wonder if Rio is genuine in her question or if this was just another attempt at teasing. This conversation had mainly been between the two of them.

"Tell me what?"

"I wasn't... okay, Agatha," you admit for perhaps the first time ever out loud. Only Rio knows what happened to you in the years between them leaving and the last time you saw her. You made sure of that. The two of them had grand legacies but you wanted to be forgotten in history. Like the legend of Bloody Mary. Not a sole dare speaks your name anymore because who knows what'll happen if you show up.

"oh bunny," a pet name you hadn't heard in a very long time. It almost seemed childish now. Pathetic. "just talk to me."

"you don't care,"

"god do I have to do everything around here," Rio complains. "she was tried as a witch, Agatha. Use your head for once."

"Rio," you huff.

She rolls her eyes. "burned at the stake."

"Rio," you snarl. "stop. I don't wanna talk about it."

"yes you do," she responds sharply. "you want nothing more than to make Agatha Harkness feel guilty for leaving you. Hurt her the way she hurt you." you dart for her in one swift motion. A hand around her neck. The teasing just becoming too much, and you were sick of hearing her talk.

"you hurt me too," you bark, shoving her against the nearest tree. What should be fear is instead a small smirk and dark eyes.

"fiesty," she quips. She knows you won't kill her. You can't.

"you're the only person to ever leave a mark." you resume. "an ugly scar that my body just refuses to heal."

"come on sweet one." you drive a little harder. "make it hurt."

"do you know what it's like to be tied up and buried in a coffin? To slowly suffocate to death over and over and over again," fingernails dig into the skin of her neck. You can see it's having an effect. The wobble in her smile. "the way your body screams for oxygen. Your insides burning with desire but there is nothing you can do?"

"drop her," Agatha's hand reaches your shoulder and your powers kick in. Your free hand waves her away. Energy blasts her backwards and she stumbles to the ground. A lesser witch wouldn't know of Agatha's ability to drain magic but you were smarter than that. careful in your use despite the speed. control what's around her rather than directly blasting her.

"don't touch me," you growl.

"our... little girl... is all grown... up," choked out of Rio's mouth. You watch her grow a little paler. A little more starved for breath. And then you drop her. She crumbles to the floor. "and filled..." she coughs. "with... murderous rage... apparently."

"calm down," Agatha tries from her place on the floor, as she tries to get up. You use your magic to help her up. Leaving her hovering just a few feet off the ground.

"y'know, when they dragged me from bed and burned me at the stake all I could think about was you two. Surely, they didn't just leave without a word. They'll... come back and help me." you can still picture that night. The confusion. the heat. The pain. "you left me," you walk towards Agatha. "and look at you now. The great Agatha Harkness is completely powerless."

"we're sorry, okay- aren't we rio?" rio shrugs a little. With a heavy sigh, you drop Agatha to the ground. "you've come a long way bunny."

"wasn't really a choice,"

"Can we just backtrack a little," the older witch requests. Brushing herself off as she stands back up.

"immortality looks good on you," Rio teases. You hold up a middle finger.

"you're immortal?"

"for the longest time, I thought one of you cursed me with it. Some fucked up way of protecting me. But then I went looking for you. Heard all about your extra circular activities. Witch killer, hiding behind dark magic," Agatha just looks back as you turn to Rio. She knew the story. "Rio was easier to find,"

"should have stayed dead," Rio insisted, the cold metal blade dancing across the scar on your neck. "how easier that would be," you shove her away and she just chuckles. "oh how I missed this," she wonders over to were Agatha is stood.

"I'm going back to sleep," you announce. "let's just leave it at that,"

"Why did you come," Agatha asks. You wonder if it's worth the conversation. The headache of continuing to engage with them. "if you hate me so much?"

"to die," you say eventually as you head back to camp.

// NEXT

[mywritersmind]

DONT CRY OVER SPILT COFFEE - LN4

summary : A horrible morning made worse by a man in a matcha colored hat, spilling coffee down her shirt and maybe ending up being the hero she needs for her final.

listen up : no warnings!! okay hiii i fell off the face of the planet for a sec lol! i’m fine and thank you for all your sweet messages! honestly i was just burnt out and have nooo ideas plus school and sports are kicking my ass. i love you all so much and hope you enjoy this!

words : 1940

⋆｡‧˚⋆

I try to steady my breathing as I bite back tears. It’s a small thing, really… I ordered a latte and they gave me a steaming hot black coffee.

I would have been fine, simply asking to return it if not for the horribly rude barista and my morning out of hell. So I give up and drag myself out of the little shop, opening the heavy door and promptly colliding into the man across from me.

I swear, loudly, this is the absolute cherry on top of the start of my day. I honestly expect him to run off and roll his eyes, but with tears in mine and hot coffee on my shirt, he rushes to apologize.

“I’m so fucking sorry- shit! I’m an idiot… Let me buy you another one, and a top. Honestly I’m so sorry.” The British man is rambling as I wipe my tears, something his green eyes widen at, horrified that he made me cry. As I blink away the tears, I'm immediately threatened with more because he’s hot!

“No… It’s okay.” I sniff, cursing the universe for making me act like a fool in front of a man this attractive. “I wasn’t even going to drink it.” People are staring at us now and the workers have already started to clean the mess beneath my feet.

“C’mere.” He says softly, taking my hand and leading me to a more secluded part of the cafe, “I’m really sorry.” He’s pulling off his flannel now, a plain white t-shirt now visible as he hands the red and white button up to me, “Please change, I feel horrible. I’ll get you another drink, maybe one you actually enjoy?”

I don’t know why, but if it was any other day, I would have brushed this off and left with no words. But today, I really need this. I nod, telling him my actual order, and retreating to the bathroom as he gets in line.

The shirt does not fit me. I’m wearing a denim skirt with it and it looks like I'm wearing a dress, but honestly I like the look. I grab my shirt and leave the bathroom, my skirt splattered with coffee and the smell still on me.

I sit outside, not wanting to be stared at by everyone who saw me inside. He’s back quickly, two coffees in hand and a guilty smile on his face.

Now that my eyes aren’t blurred with tears, I get a better look at him. He’s tan and freckled, curls sticking out from under his hat.

I read his name on the cup, “Bob?” I say, a bit more judgy than I meant. My latte is cool against my hands, my skin hot from coffee and embarrassment.

He sits across from me, laughing a bit, “No uh… I’m Lando.” I wonder if they got his name wrong and I'm about to ask how someone makes that big of a mistake, but he starts talking, “Are you alright? Something tells me this isn’t just about a spilled drink.”

I sip my coffee, instantly happier with the taste of vanilla, “Honestly? It’s just been a shit morning.”

He smiles softly as a biker drives past us, the sun beating down on my legs, “Want to tell me about it?”

“I really don’t want to bother you anymore…” I try to distract myself with the flowers next to us but my eyes find him again.

“I deserve it- not that you’re a bother! I wasn’t looking where I was going.” He blushes slightly, sipping his matcha.

“I really shouldn’t…”

“You can-”

“Okay so I’m a university student and for my final project in one of my journalism classes, I have to interview someone! Okay fine whatever it’s easy, I can do that! My professor is a massive bitch and didn’t even like my suggestion of interviewing my third grade teacher but whatever! I decided on it anyway even though everyone in my fucking class has like a million and one connections to insanely famous people so all of theirs is actually interesting!”

“Yours sounds interesting.” He shrugs.

“Thank you! Well, when I went to the school to interview her, I found out she’s dead!” His jaw drops, “Yeah! So now I'm just depressed because I loved that woman and I still don’t have a final. Plus just about everything went wrong while getting ready. I tore my favorite tights and lost my lucky bracelet, clearly, because I ran into you after this stupid shop got my order wrong!”

He’s smiling, looking at me with pity and a little humor, “That does sound like a lot.”

I bring my cup to my lips once more, breathless from my rant. Lando just hums, tapping his finger on the table, “Anyway I can help?”

“Unless you know anyone famous… and you’ve already bought me the correct coffee and listened to my rant, I can’t ask for more.”

“Well uh…” He bites his lip suspiciously, “I sort of do… know someone famous, that is.” My eyes go wide and my cheeks go red.

“No! I can’t bother anyone else, forget what I said.”

He’s smiling again, “Nope, you asked for it. I have a solution.”

“No… Lando I can’t.” He’s far too nice for someone I just met.

“It’s for your final! I don’t mind.”

“Sure you might not mind but the person I'm interviewing might!” At this, he makes a face. Somewhere between laughter and awkwardness. Then I have an overwhelming sick feeling as he starts again.

“You can interview me.” What the fuck have I done? He slides me his phone but my eyes are already squeezed shut. I hear him chuckle, “Y/n.”

“No no no.”

“Yes.” he nudges it against my arm as I slowly eye it. It's his instagram. His instagram with 9.4 Million followers.

I swallow, “I’m an idiot.”

“No. You’re just not into racing.” He’s right! I’m not. I’m really not! The photos quickly tell me that he is a formula one driver for McLaren. “Just ask me whatever you need. It’s not a bother.”

“Lando…” I feel like I've been dunked into cold water, and suddenly I realize that people are looking at us not because of my embarrassing mess, but because he’s famous!

“I’m not leaving until you ask.” He leans back in his chair and crosses his arms as if he’s on strike.

“You’re sure this isn’t overstepping- I mean I just met you and I barely even know what you do!”

“So then ask me.” He’s infuriatingly hot, his brow raised.

I hesitantly take my notebook out of my bag, uncapping my pen, and starting a new page.

My hand is shaking for some reason but the questions just flow out of me! He answers every one with a humble sort of confidence that makes me laugh.

In the span of thirty minutes, I learn everything about formula one and Lando Norris. Most of it is for my own curiosity but what I write down is all about Lando.

He’s quite charming and I wonder if he’s this open to every interviewer. “So you won something big…?”

He laughs, nodding, “Yeah. The Constructors Championship. It’s for the team, not really a specific driver.”

I hum, “But there is one for a driver…? And you don’t have it?” I ask bluntly.

He smiles slowly, “No… I was in the fight mathematically but we started too late. Trust me though, next year's mine.” He winks and it’s the first time he acts cocky and honestly sure of himself.

“Well… those are all my questions.”

“Oh. Well, This has been my favorite interview yet. I hope I was almost as inspiring as your third grade teacher…”

I laugh, sitting back in the wiry chair, “I think I might just pass this class and get my teacher to like me.”

“That won’t be because of me though. You’re a good journalist, I can tell.” His eyes are soft when he speaks to me, leaning forward and drawing my eyes to his arms.

Fuck how did I not realize he’s got that whole rich athlete vibe.

I take one last drink of my coffee, the ice sounding and my frown apparently, “Thanks again… I hope I didn’t ruin your day or anything.”

“If anything, you made it better. I’m not exactly the press’ favorite but I'd like to be yours, just so when you start interviewing more F1 drivers, you’ll see how amazing I am.” He scrunches his nose as I laugh.

“Right… Well, I should really get going.” Something flashes across his face as I go to stand, “Oh shit, your shirt!”

“Keep it. You look better in it than I do.” I narrow my eyes at his flirtatious words.

“Do you flirt with all your interviewers?”

“Only the cute ones who I meet with coffee down her shirt.” His smile is insane, I have a feeling I shouldn’t entertain this, that he’s just another big dick athlete who can get any woman he wants.

But then he tugs at his necklace, something he explained to me was his logo, and I wonder what the harm is in having one thing in my day go right.

As if he can hear my thoughts, he sits up straighter, “Let me take you out.”

I did not expect him to ask that! My cheeks go pink as I shake my head. Something tells me that Lando Norris doesn’t take the word ‘No’ very well.

“You can give me my shirt back then.” He grabs my pen from my hand scribbling his number upside down onto my page of notes. “Please?” His handwriting is just legible enough for me to make out the numbers.

“Did you just say please?” I let out a laugh, glancing down at the black ink.

“I’ve heard there’s some magic in it.” He smirks, “I’m not above begging you. Come on, what’s the harm in apologizing over a nice dinner?”

“You already apologized over coffee.”

“You really don’t want to go out with me?” He looks at me as if I've just stepped on his puppy. I try to talk, then shut my mouth and look away.

“I’m in university.”

“I never finished school.” I raise a brow at his words. “What? I thought we were just exchanging our schooling records.” He’s smirking again, “Come on Y/n…”

“You’re famous.”

“You will be one day.” I truly can’t believe this is happening to me, “You’re gorgeous, Y/n. And you have every right to turn me down. Just say no.”

He’s got me there and we both know it, “I’ll text you my final, maybe if I get full marks then i’ll say yes.”

He stands with me, “I'm very confident you will.”

“Good luck driving… or whatever.”

He laughs, “I’m really glad I spilled coffee all over you.”

I roll my eyes and start walking away, “Goodbye Lando.”

He calls after me, “See you soon, Y/n!”

[itsthecline]

smoke and smush

ex-pogue kook!reader x jj maybank

summary the day you and jj make it official , and the morning after when kie finds out.

warnings profanity , sexual innuendos , established secret relationship ( and getting caught ) , smoking marijuana , porn with plot ( grinding , praise , soft dom!jj , fingering , oral fem!receiving , unprotected pinv , kinda rough sex , hair pulling , creampie ) y’all this is filthy…

18+ minors dni

“kie , are you sure you have to go?” you asked , holding your hand to block the sun from your eyes as you watched your friend slip her shorts back on after her dip in the pool.

you invited all of your friends to come over for a pool day. pope declined , explaining he had to help his dad with stuff for work and that he was super , super sorry. you insisted it was not a big deal. john b was still hungover from the night before and whined through the phone that ‘i don’t wanna have to see jj trying to hide his boner from you all day’. you audibly and dramatically gagged into the speaker before hanging up on him , wondering if it was that obvious you and jj were a thing.

so , it was just you , jj , and kie.

and now that the sun was setting , so she was headed home. jj was already going to spend the night ; he didn’t exactly want to go home , and you were beyond okay with having his company after the morning you two had. kie , though , had parents that wanted her home at a decent hour , especially when they knew at least one pogue was hanging around too.

“yeah , the mother is still on my ass after the kegger last weekend,” kie groaned , yanking her t-shirt on as well , it clinging to her still wet skin, “but if you want to , i’m free in the morning! we can get breakfast?”

jj looked at you quickly , nodding for you to agree so he could come with you both. he always told you how much he liked eating with you two because you were able to find such cute spots. “we all get breakfast?” you smiled , tilting your head to jj for kie to get the hint.

“sure,” she laughed , grabbing her bag and slipping her sandals on, “see you bright and early!” and just like that she was heading through your back gate and going home , leaving you and jj swinging in your hamock.

you nudged jj with your foot , getting his attention. “hey , boyfriend?” you spoke flirtatiously , batting your eyelashes in a dramatized fashion.

“yes , girlfriend?” he replied , smiling ear to ear , pressing a kiss to your calf before starting to message your foot.

as of that morning , jj asked you to be ‘his girl’ officially. he had brought over a handful of your favorite flowers , hashbrowns from the wreck , and a cd burned with your favorite songs with ‘will you be my girl?’ scribbled across it in his messy handwriting and little doodles mixed in.

you couldn’t help but giggle out of pure joy. for the first time in a long time , things felt good around you. “you wanna get high and do dirty stuff? y’know my mom and dad aren’t back until monday.”

“you need to get high to wanna do dirty stuff with me? ouch!” his hand flew to his forehead he dramatically threw backward, “you wound me , baby!”

“shut up!” you kick at him, “the dirty stuff is because i want to ; the smoking was for you , shark boy.” you wobbled up , standing from the hammock and slipping your shoes on.

without a word , jj got up and followed you into the house , already knowing you were headed up to your room. one : it was where you kept all your paraphernalia your parents could never know about. two : your king size bed that was perfect for all of the things jj was already hard thinking about.

he reached forward , smacking your ass that was barely covered by your little , green swimsuit. “jj!” you laughed , swatting his hand away as you reached your room. you started digging through the shoe box you kept under your bed first , preparing the bong for the two of you.

“good thing that cd i gave you is the perfect smoke and smush playlist,” jj bragged , manspreading on the edge of your freshly made bed and watching you.

“stop saying smush,” you groaned , packing a bowl with a sour look on your face.

“you think it’s funny on jersey shore!” he argued back , throwing his hands up in shock.

you roll your eyes obnoxiously. “i do! i just don’t think it’s sexy , baby,” you explained softly , leaning over to press a kiss onto the inside of his thigh. he had to hold back a moan at the action , standing up quickly and going to the balcony so you could smoke a bowl or two.

you were on cloud nine. maybe three bowls ago you and jj repositioned to make-out while you straddled his lap grinding down into him. and after about three more you had moved back into your bedroom , settling into your silk sheets.

“you’re my dream girl,” jj muttered into your skin , pressing kisses and sucking deep bruises on your neck, “favorite thing ever. my perfect girl.” your neck craned further back , jaw dropping to let out a soft moan.

“will you show me?” your voice came out more whiney than expected , hips thrusting up to create more friction than jj was giving you. in the midst of moving to the bed , your bikini top came off , but between you and jj still rested your bottoms.

jj pulled back to look you in the eye , goofy smile on his face that was partially covered from his shaggy blonde hair you’d mussed up from combing your fingers through it all day. he leaned in , twisting your lips together deeply once more before planting shorter , softer ones down your body.

“mhm. i’ll show you just how perfect i think you are.” his words were split up by more kisses as he made his way between your legs. he adjusted , throwing your calves over his shoulders , biting at your thighs.

again , you lifted up , needing him. you felt his breath fan across your damp swimsuit as he chuckled. he moved one of his arms to rest his hand on your hip , effectively holding you down. with the other , he so graciously touched you through the fabric. it was soft , barely there , but it forced a whine out of your lips nonetheless.

his fingers expertly pulled your bikini to the side , exposing your slick pussy to the your cold , air conditioned room. you couldn’t help but shiver , goosebumps blossoming across every inch of your bare body. your own hands busied themselves with your tits , pulling and twisting at your nipples to help ground yourself just a little.

“oh , you poor thing,” jj cooed , looking up at you with the sweetest puppy dog eyes, “you been like this all day?”

you nodded frantically , another pathetic little cry slipping into the thick air. “i think i’ve waited long enough,” you defend yourself , raising up to your elbows to look down at your boyfriend who was still rubbing at your slit , playing with the slick that had started to pool. “don’t you think , baby?” you encouraged him , biting your lip to keep quiet.

he had the decency to meet your gaze back lovingly before twisting his hand and sliding two fingers into your waiting core. you elicited a louder moan this time , hands flying to grip your sheets. “yeah? you like that , baby?” jj borderline mocked you , moving his fingers in and out of you slowly just before leaning back in to add his tongue into the mix.

your thighs started closing in around jj’s head , and though he didn’t mind it in the slightest , he did mind how much you were squirming. he adjusted his arm to lay flat across your hips , holding you more firmly into the mattress while he continued working his fingers into you. he could hear you begging for him , but all he was focused on was devouring you.

it wasn’t long before your legs had clamped entirely around him , keeping him in place as you got higher and higher. closer and closer to your orgasm. “doing so good for me,” jj groaned , rutting his hips into the mattress. you could only muster a moan in response as your tightened your grip on his sweaty , blonde hair. “want you to come , baby,” he breathed out , pulling his mouth away from your weeping pussy but not stopping his now three fingers from fucking you.

he lifted himself up , hand keeping up with its ministrations but allowing him to hover over you and kiss you. your tongues fought for each other , and you sighed at the taste you on his lips. “so fucking close , j!” you couldn’t even hear the music from the cd playing anymore , but you could thank god your parents were gone for the weekend.

“fucking come for me ; right now.” it was a demand , but jj’s voice was so sweet and his fingers were hitting just the right spot. his head dipped lower , taking one of your nipples into his mouth , running his tongue around the stiff peak before grazing his teeth against it. “please , baby. wanna see you come all over my hand. you hear that? y’so fucking wet,” he was moaning himself , getting off on getting you off , listening to the way your moans were changing as you got closer.

and then it snapped. the long day’s pressure that had built up finally released in the form of you leaking around jj’s fingers , your arousal spraying onto your bed and moans that filled your bedroom and floated out the balcony door. “fuck , fuck , fuck!” you whimpered , grinding into his hand now that your hips were free to move.

jj’s eyes shot down to his hand as soon as he felt your release forcing his fingers out of you , wanting to watch how much of a mess you were making on your now soaked sheets. he slid his fingers out of you , rubbing up and down your folds for a moment before pulling away and letting you catch your breath for a moment. “fucking beautiful,” he chuckled , kissing into your neck as his hand moved up to your mouth.

you breathing was shallow as you let his fingers into your mouth , cleaning your juices off of him. “want you to fuck me,” you admitted , nibbling at jj’s ear with a giggle. god , you were so happy.

“it’s like you’re right out of one of my dreams,” jj groaned , sitting back on his heels and flipping you over with ease. you let out a yelp , shocked by how fast he maneuvered you around. it was his turn to laugh , just as giddy as you were. what a beautiful thing he had here with you.

his hands reached forward , gripping your hips and hoisting you up long enough for you to arch your back for him. one hand went to yank his swimming trunks down and tug at his throbbing cock. his other hand stayed on you , rubbing your ass , moving you back and forth for his viewing.

“you know i love you , right?” he wondered aloud , hand running up your spine slowly.

you turn your head over your shoulder , arms still stretched out in front of you , ass still in the air. “i love you more , jj,” you beamed back to him , reaching between your legs to grab him, “i’ve always wanted this.” your almost cheeks flushed in embarrassment at the confession as you situate the tip of him at your entrance.

it takes a minute for you to fully sink down on him , ass meeting his hips. when you do , jj lets out a matching curse to your whine. and it takes you another moment before you can start swirling your hips , bouncing yourself on him , letting him take a moment and relax.

your head falls forward , and you take a bite of your sheets to muffle the moans escaping you as you fuck yourself harder against jj. “fuck , baby! feel so good,” jj grunted to you , hands finding their place on your hips and taking over in administering your movements. he pulled you back and met you with his own powerful thrusts before adjusting to shove you flat onto the bed and just fucking into you.

“harder , baby. fuck your pussy harder!” you cried out , desperately trying to reach another climax by moving yourself on his cock the best you could.

“yeah? this my pussy?” he echoed after you , yanking your hair up to expose your face more which only opened your mouth wider for more cries to fall out. he pounded into you harder at your request , feeling his own release inch closer. you nod the best you can. “that right? this is your cock,” he added , accentuating his words with deeper thrusts, “only yours , baby. only you.” his words got weaker as his hips moved sloppier.

you knew he was getting close , and you were almost there. “cum in me!” you shouted, “cum in me , please. please , baby!” that was all it took for jj to double over , covering your body with his as his hips stuttered in and out of you. he kept going , overstimulating himself in efforts to get you off one last time and fucking his cum into you.

the sound of his fucked out whimpers sent you over the edge. “yes , yes , yes! fuckkk!” you cried , body heaving at the exertion. you two slowed down ; your breathing was loud in your ears , slowly faded out as you came back to your senses.

jj was still glued on top of you , littering kisses all over your shoulder. “i love you , y/n,” he whispered sweetly , nudging his nose into your cheek.

“i love you,” you smiled , finally able to hear the song that was playing now.

it was nearing ten o’clock in the morning. the sunshine was starting to creep into your room , past the sheer , lacey curtain you had hung up with jj earlier in the week.

jj was sleeping on his stomach , arm thrown tightly over your waist , holding you close to him. his head was resting on your chest , and light snores were coming from his mouth. your hand was still in his hair from the night before. and your covers were hardly doing their job of hiding your bodies at that point.

“hey , i checked the guest room , and jj wasn’t in there!” kie’s voice practically shook the walls of your house just before she opened your door , barging into your room.

you jolted awake at the intrusion , causing jj to stir as well. “kiara!” you yelled , not having ever used that tone of voice before.

your friend — upon seeing that jj hadn’t left , screamed and covered her eyes before slamming your door closed behind her. jj yanked the covers up to hide your bodies , reacting far too late for the situation.

“what the fuck!” he questioned , still half asleep and beyond confused.

“oh , my fucking god! kie’s here,” you curse , rushing out of bed and clothing yourself in the first options you see. jj’s left behind as you run after kiara , who hid in the living room to wait for you. “kie!” you shouted , looking for her as you came downstairs.

there she was , pacing back and forth while chewing on her thumb’s nail. you stopped and stared at her , and she looked up when she noticed you. “found jj,” she shrugged , flicking her hand up to the stairs where a half dressed jj stood , still wiping the sleep from his eyes.

“it’s not what it looks like,” you lied , saying the first thing that came to mind despite it being exactly what it looked like.

jj’s quick footsteps rolled down the stairs. “how’d you get in here?” he asked , as if all of your friends didn’t have the alarm code to your house. as if you didn’t have breakfast planned for the morning.

“i was here to wake you harlots up so we could go eat!” she shouted , starting to pace again, “but i found my best friends naked in bed together!”

you wince at her volume. “kiki , let me just explain everything real quick,” you requested , taking a step toward her. you knew she wasn’t mad that you were hooking up with jj ; she knew how much you liked him. she was mad that you didn’t tell her. you were supposed to be best friends.

“explain that you’re a liar?” she scoffed , crossing her arms as she glared at you.

“hey!” jj was quick to step forward , point at your friend in warning not to talk to you that harshly, “love you , kie , but take a breath , dude.”

you silently thank jj , knowing you couldn’t bring yourself to talk to kie that way. you didn’t like having to raise your voice. “we didn’t tell anyone , okay?” you started, “it all just snowballed , and we just couldn’t find a good time to tell you guys. i think i kinda wanted to keep it to ourselves for a little bit anyway. keep it just for us?”

kiara had softened slightly , trying to hear you out. “why? i’m your best friend. we tell each other everything , y/n. this is , like , sort of a big thing to hide from me.”

“i know , and i’m sorry , boo,” you sighed , not wanting this to be a fight, “our friends , we all share everything. all the time. beds , food , drinks , weed , clothes , everything. this is the one thing that i’ve— we’ve had to ourselves. we got to enjoy it for it exactly as it is.”

“plus , i was also scared you’d beat me up,” jj added , trying to lighten to mood as he rubbed a hand up and down your back.

kie failed to stifle her laugh , hand covering her mouth. “okay , okay. i get it. you’re in your little honeymoon phase. whatever. just no more secrets , ‘kay?” she surrendered , grabbing your hands and swinging them with a smile.

you looked at jj , grimace rising on your face. “actually , we were planning on telling you guys on our , like , maybe three month anniversary…” you announced.

“oh , my god! i’m gonna have to keep this a secret for three months?”

[s4nguiine]

dead flowers; pressed against my lips

arlecchino x fem!reader

» summary: you and arlecchino go on a christmas date and end the night with nasty lesbian sex

» rating: NSFW!! minors dni!!

» notes: ohhhh my godddd merry christmas everyone! here is 3.5k words of wlw with dom/sub dynamics, rough sex, choking, strap sucking, you know, the kind of stuff you usually imagine when thinking about arlecchino. don't look at me like that. i know who you are. i speedran writing this in a single afternoon and it is not beta read so there are probably many many mistakes. have fun!

arlecchino does not get christmas. she finds it frivolous and materialistic and most of all, she finds it to be a waste of time. suffice to say that the house of the hearth does not celebrate this holiday. or at least it used not to.

when she wakes up early that morning, she is immediately struck speechless when she finds you up and about. that much is a feat on its own, as you are not one to get up early unless strictly necessary. and yet here you are, awake earlier than arlecchino herself, and the living room is… green, red and golden. your back is turned to her when she enters, and although your hands are preoccupied with hanging up a wreath above the fireplace, you notice her presence anyway.

this does not come as a surprise to arlecchino. you wouldn’t run the orphanage with her if you weren’t good at your job.

“good morning,” you greet her, then you finally face her.

“what’s all… this?” arlecchino asks as she motions around her in general.

“why, it’s christmas, of course.” you smile like you’re saying the most obvious thing in the world.

arlecchino furrows her brows, looking around herself once more. “it’s gaudy.”

you laugh. she looks like a grumpy cat finding out that the furniture has been rearranged. “yes. yes, it is gaudy. but i think the kids will like it. some of them never got to experience christmas before, a change of pace should do them good.”

the harbinger sighs and relents. “i suppose you are right. it shouldn’t hurt to spoil them every now and then.” she can’t not relent when there’s that spark in your eye anyway. in this way, you’ve got her wrapped around your finger.

“come on,” you say, making your way towards the kitchen. “we still have some time before the kids wake up. coffee?”

arlecchino follows. “of course.”

she doesn’t need to say how she wants it made. you know that she likes it black, no sugar, no milk or cream. in this way, the two of you are once again opposites. arlecchino often cringes at the amount of flavoring you like to put in your coffee, asking you if you even like coffee in the first place. the truth that you haven’t told her yet is that you just want to be involved in her daily routine.

you were right, of course. the children begin to filter in, and everyone’s spirits seem to lift when their eyes land on the decorated living room. the more extroverted children are visibly excited, wasting no time in running back to the dorms to grab their friends, and even the gloomy ones perk up somewhat. arlecchino’s eyes, however, remain pinned to your beaming face. you’re clearly proud of your work.

if you’re the sun, the arlecchino is the darkness. and much like the color black, she wants - no, needs to soak in as much of your light as possible.

arlecchino catches your attention by tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. finally, your eyes are on her. if things went according to her, they would never leave her. the knave is lucky that the kids are too busy to notice this moment of tenderness.

days pass, and arlecchino finds herself growing accustomed to the holiday atmosphere around her. in the end, she is glad that she allowed you to do this.

she sits by the hearth, gazing into the fire as she usually does when she’s free, a warm cup in her hand. the scent of high quality chenyu vale tea wafts into the air, creating a relaxing atmosphere calm enough to lull one to sleep.

your footsteps draw near, and arlecchino knows that she can only hear them because you allow her to. she puts down her cup and folds her hands in her lap.

“come to keep me company?” she asks, feeling the backrest of her chair dip under your weight as you lean on it.

“maybe. or maybe i’ve come to ask you out on a date,” you reply.

arlecchino lifts both of her eyebrows and finally turns her head to look at you. “a date?”

“indeed. we haven’t gone in a while, right?”

arlecchino hums. she takes your hand in hers and brings it to her lips. “do you have something in mind?”

you smile at her display of affection. “there’s a christmas market in the court of fontaine. what do you say we go check it out tonight?”

she takes a moment to consider it. markets really aren’t her thing, and she really doesn’t understand the excitement about christmas. but it would make you happy. if she gets to see your smile, she will go.

“very well. let’s have a date, dear.” your grin is all she needs to know she made the right choice. “as for those three…”

“i will handle it.” you pull away and cross your arms, facing a nearby door. “you can come out now.”

there is a moment of silence before lyney, lynette and freminet emerge from the door, each looking more bashful than the other.

“i’m disappointed,” you scold. “surely i taught you to sneak better than this. did you even try to be quiet?”

the trio shift on their feet, throwing glances at each other to urge someone to speak already. you shake your head. “two weeks of dishwashing duties for each of you. now go along. i’m sure you have chores to do.”

lynette and freminet both deadpan at lyney, who laughs nervously. this is enough to clue you in on whose idea it was to spy on you. the children leave, and you sigh. “sometimes i feel like i have no clue what’s going on through their heads.”

arlecchino does. you’ve always had a way of pulling all eyes towards you. it makes it all the more impressive how good you are at being stealthy. she rests her hands on the armrests of the chair and pushes herself up.

“now then, let’s waste no more time and start getting ready, yes?”

you look at her, confused. “we still have ti-”

the words are swiped from your tongue when arlecchino leans in to capture your chin between her thumb and index finger. “don’t you want to pretty yourself up for me?”

your face burns up with the heat of a thousand suns. “i… yes… of course…”

the harbinger graces you with a small smile that’s enough to make you feel weak in the knees. she then lets go of you and retreats into the bedroom, leaving you reeling in the middle of the living room.

you’re pretty sure your brain just melted. when you come to, it’s been a full minute, and you quickly scamper to the bathroom to start putting on your makeup. yes, you’ll pretty yourself up for her. better yet, you will make her want you like she’s never wanted you before. tonight will end with her strap rearranging your guts, you’ll make sure of it.

when the two of you meet outside, you both stare at each other without saying anything. she’s hot. insanely hot. hotter than usual, even despite the fact that she is wearing more clothes than usual. arlecchino’s hair is let loose for once, a sight usually reserved for the bedroom. she knows you like it loose. seems that the two of you have the same plans for tonight.

you grin and take her up on her silent offer to lock your arms together.

“you look dashing,” she says. compliments are rare - you know you’ve struck gold.

“so do you. i’ll have to watch out for suitors.”

“no need.” her eyes are cold as she sweeps them over your surroundings. “i only have you in my sights.”

satisfied and arm in arm, you head out to find the christmas market. it only takes a few minutes for you to arrive at the main plaza, which is teeming with people. you know you don’t have to worry, though. as soon as you enter the crowd, there forms a circle of space around you two. this is simply the effect of dating peruere, who is so intimidating that people naturally avoid her whether intentionally or unintentionally. not you, though. you find that attractive.

you arrive at the first mulled wine stand and get a cup for each of you (but not without complaining about the ridiculous price.) arlecchino watches as you hold it with both of your hands and blow at the rising steam to cool the drink down a little. your cheeks and nose are red from the cold and your eyes are cast downward to show off the full length of your eyelashes.

having a better tolerance for heat, she sips at her own wine without taking her eyes off of you. you blink when you notice.

“like what you see?” you grin, exposing the teeth beneath your red-tinted lips.

arlecchino hums. “i do. very much.” she notices a speck of mascara on your cheekbone. immediately without thinking her hand darts out to wipe it away, black finger brushing against your skin.

“you’re spoiling me tonight, i see,” you joke. it’s all you can do not to give away your racing heart.

“for now,” she replies. “don’t get too used to it.” and with a wink she turns to lead you to another stand. you feel warmth pooling in the pit of your stomach and you’re unsure whether it’s the alcohol or the anticipation of what’s to come.

it is a nice date. you walk between the stalls, looking at the various products on sale. at some point you buy matching rings for you two, and you get chocolate croissants and some more wine, her treat of course.

by the end of the evening there is a pleasant buzz permeating your body and you’ve got a dumb grin on your face. arlecchino also seems more relaxed, despite all the eyes on her. she leans in close to your ear.

“shall we get to the next program?” she asks. you have to hold down a whimper.

your shoulder presses closer to hers, both hands wrapped around her arm. “i would love nothing more.”

“wonderful. let us depart.”

you are shoved down onto the bed, your naked body bouncing with the force of the push. arlecchino watches you like a hawk about to snoop down to catch her prey. she finds pleasure in seeing your messed up makeup, the lipstick smeared from vigorous kissing, and she licks her lips to taste your spit. stripping down to her underwear, she finally climbs on top of you, presenting you with a full view of her clothed cunt. she’s wearing the panties you gifted her a few months ago; black with a small red ribbon in the front. you’re salivating.

“what are you waiting for?” her voice comes from above, and in the darkness of the room all you can make out from her face are the glowing red crosses in her eyes. you swallow. “take them off.”

your thumbs immediately find their way under the hem of her underwear but she slaps them away.

“with your teeth.”

you let out a shaky breath. “yessir,” you reply as you push yourself up on your elbows. your face inches closer to her sex and you pinch the fabric between your incisors, careful not to bite arlecchino. your nose buries itself in her lower abdomen, upper lip dragging across her skin as you pull the panties lower. you manage to pull them down to the middle of her thighs before letting go. a strand of spit connects you to the fabric before breaking once you’re far enough.

the harbinger lets out a pleased hum. “good girl,” she purrs, and her clawed hand cups your cheek. her thumb pushes down onto your lower lip before breaching the entrance of your mouth. she explores your tongue and teeth and you let her like an obedient puppy begging for a treat.

arlecchino releases you from her grasp and you whimper. she reaches behind you, grabbing something from her drawing, and when she comes back into your field of vision, she’s holding a strap harness.

“would you put this on for me, darling?” she asks. you nod. of course you nod. anything for her, anything she asks. you take the harness and put it on her, making it tight enough to stay in place but not so tight for it to dig into her skin uncomfortably. more praises spill from her lips and you have to rub your legs together in search of some kind of friction.

arlecchino fastens a strap-on to the harness. you peek up at her through your lashes, salivating at the sight of her towering you. she seems to notice your reaction as her eyes narrow into a crescent shape. she grips the toy with her hand, bringing it up to your lips.

“why don’t you suck it first, hm?”

you part your lips, breathing onto the fake cock in front of you. “yessir…” she doesn’t move. you have to do all the work, and you do it gladly, leaning in, resting the dildo on your tongue. it tastes funny. you pay it no mind. it’s time to put on a show for her.

you swirl your tongue around its tip before dipping lower to its base, coating the dildo with your saliva. her eyes remain on you, a scalding hot gaze that penetrates your very soul. it makes you shudder.

a couple more licks, and you feel that the dildo is sufficiently covered. you pull back to the tip to give it a tender kiss, maintaining eye contact with arlecchino, before closing your eyes and completely wrapping your lips around her cock. your head dips and you take more of its length in your mouth. you move without stopping, until the dildo hits the back of your throat, making you gag. breathing in deep, you swallow around the shaft in an attempt to get used to it, and as you do so, you feel arlecchino tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear.

“you’re taking it so good,” she coos, almost out of breath. “go on. you can take all of it.”

of course you can. if it’s her, you can do anything. so you flatten your tongue around the base of it and you push deeper, feeling it enter your throat. tears well up in your eyes, spit runs down your chin, but you press on - and at last, you can feel your nose hit the leather harness. you feel full, accomplished.

arlecchino shifts her hips and you gag again. “good girl,” she praises, and if you had a tail, it would be wagging right about now. “i suppose i should reward you for being so obedient.” she reaches behind herself, and as soon as you feel her fingers push past the folds of your pussy, you groan around the girth of the dildo. her middle finger teases your clit and your hips flinch. you want it, you need it so bad. unfortunately for you, you cannot beg with your mouth full of cock.

arlecchino pulls back her hips and you gasp for air, then cough as you choke on your own saliva. she brings her hand forward again, glistening with your arousal.

“so wet,” she drawls. “i didn’t even have to touch you.”

“please,” you seize this opportunity to beg, “please fuck me. please.”

arlecchino’s eyes find yours, and they’re freezing cold. “all in due time, my dear. or are you questioning my leadership?”

you shake your head. “i wouldn’t dare.”

“that’s what i thought.” you think you’re about to pass out with arousal. “open up.”

obedient as always, you do as you’re told, and her strap is back in your mouth before you can register anything. she begins to move her hips, and you suck to the best of your abilities. this proves difficult when her hand finds your cunt once again, middle and ring fingers rubbing your clit in a circular motion.

your eyes roll back into your head at the feeling and you arch your back. the moment you lose focus however, arlecchino draws her hand back and slaps your pussy, forcing a muffled squeak out of you. you get right back to work, glancing up at her pleadingly. she decides to indulge you, going back to your pussy, this time pushing her fingers inside while her thumb stimulates your clit.

your thighs shake, but you do your best to focus on showering her strap with love. arlecchino sighs at the sight. she withdraws her fingers to touch herself under the harness. and you feel yourself drip even more. arlecchino then grabs a fistful of your hair with the hand coated in a combination of your slick and hers, and her thrusts grow more forceful. your own hands find purchase on her thighs, now gone taut as her muscles flex.

she fucks your throat mercilessly through your garbled sounds of pleasure and gagging, and your eyes roll back as your vision grows blurry with the lack of oxygen in your lungs. your face burns and turns red. and just as you think that you’re about to pass out, arlecchino pulls out to let you breathe. you gasp, and the moment your lungs fill with air, your cunt spasms and you release, painting the bed sheets with your arousal.

the woman above watches you intently, her chest rising and falling with deep breaths. neither of you realize it, but her own arousal drips from between her folds, falling in drops onto your bare stomach.

once more, she praises you. “good girl,” she says, and you believe her. you’ve been a very good girl.

arlecchino lets go of your hair and gets off you, leaving you to ride out your high and calm down. once your small moans cease, she settles between your legs, lifting your hips and hooking your knees over her shoulders. it seems that while you were reeling, arlecchino procured a flask of lube, which she is now pouring over the dildo.

she then strokes the dildo with her bare hand, a casually vulgar display that leaves you biting your lip. her fingers delve inside your pussy and make a scissoring motion to test how stretched you are, and she hums, pleased with the result. at last, she lines up the tip of her cock with your entrance, and with a plunge, its girth enters your body.

you moan, fingers digging into the bed sheets as you’re stretched and filled. your heels dig into arlecchino’s back, toes curling while you struggle to breathe.

arlecchino’s hawk-like eyes remain on the connecting point between your bodies and one of her hands lets go of your thigh to rub at your swollen clit, which pulls a whine out of you.

“puh-please, have some mercy-” you interrupt yourself with a groan as arlecchino thrusts her hips, rocking your body. you feel like you’re going to snap in two.

“don’t lie to yourself,” she scolds, “you love it when i’m rough.” she thrusts again, hitting a spot deep inside that rips a sob out of you.

you cry, “you’re right! fuck- fuck me! peruere!”

arlecchino’s eyes widen at the mention of her name, crimson crosses seemingly glowing brighter. “as you wish, dear.”

she sets a merciless pace. the dildo penetrates you time and time again, and each time the sounds of your sex grow wetter, dirtier. you’re practically gushing over her dick while she rearranges your guts, fucking you into the mattress like her life depends on it.

her thrusts turn you into a whimpering and mewling mess, and arlecchino groans with you as you begin to unravel.

“so beautiful,” she says, voice gravelly, “you’re so beautiful for me. are you gonna cum again, dear?”

you have half a brain cell to nod. your mascara runs down your face and your lipstick is smeared all over your mouth. in spite of this, she calls you beautiful, and you truly believe her, for anything arlecchino says is the truth.

you feel pressure on your clit again, as peruere massages the bundle of nerves. you sob, then throw your head back, and your vision goes white. everything inside you grows taut, until the dam breaks with the snap of a finger and you come undone, legs stretching as you squirt all over arlecchino’s belly.

her movements finally still, except for her finger on your clit, which only slows down. you hiss when it becomes painful and arlecchino stops entirely. she pulls out and leans in to kiss you, humming into your mouth when you reciprocate.

“wonderful,” she mumbles. “you’re simply wonderful.”

your tongue feels heavy in your mouth, leaving you unable to reply. you don’t need to. arlecchino draws back and you hear the clinking of the harness’ strap, followed by a soft thud.

as you stare at the ceiling, the harbinger comes into view once more. “i hope you don’t think we’re done for tonight,” she says.

you chuckle.

“without repaying the deed? never.”

[oceanicwriting]

the rabbit.

summary: after the battle of hogwarts, you decided to leave school and live among muggles to escape from all the memories battling in your mind. it's been five years, you have a job and a small house on the outskirts of the city. for a couple of months now, a little black rabbit has been visiting you almost every night, appearing between the trees and disappearing during the day. what's the secret?

pairing(s): rabbit!animagus!theodore nott x fem!reader

a/n: i know that theo's patronus is a fox/lynx, and if he was an animagus, that would be his animal form. still i like to think that his animagus is a bunny... english isn't my first language! please, be nice.

+18 smut, mention of war, nipple play, masturbation (mostly f!receiving), fingering, cowgirl, reference to oral sex (f!receiving), cursing

ㅤㅤㅤ there he was again. that little animal that has started visiting you since your last birthday, peering into the kitchen through the glass back door, patiently waiting for you to let him in. when you go to open it, the animal comes hopping in and settles down next to the burning fireplace. you had forgotten how cold it is outside.

ㅤㅤㅤ—do you want to eat something? —you ask, looking at all the vegetables you’ve cut up for dinner—. maybe… would you like a carrot?

ㅤㅤㅤyou already knew, from all the other times he’d wander around the house, that he doesn’t like carrots. every time you offered one to him, he’d wrinkle his nose for less than a second and move his mouth, making a small sound. at first, it seemed strange to you that he could understand, but you got used to it over time.

ㅤㅤㅤyou were once a student at hogwarts, a prestigious magic school, although now you live like a real muggle on the outskirts of the city. after the war and that last battle, everything had changed for you, taking courage to leave school, get a job in a non-wizard bookstore, and live like a simple mortal. every afternoon you come home to read a book, take care of the garden, or cook dinner if there are no leftovers. the magic that hogwarts had shown you no longer existed.

ㅤㅤㅤmany times, you had visitors from the magical world, friends, family, or teachers with some mission in the area. each and every one of them tried to convince you to return to that immense and hidden place. you couldn't do it. even if you tried, you knew that those memories full of nightmares and fear would not leave your cursed mind.

ㅤㅤㅤalso, there was a little black rabbit that came to you every night like it needed your company. how could you just abandon it?

ㅤㅤㅤ—should i find you a name? —you question, caressing the animal's back. your glass of wine and the book you're reading for the tenth time rest on the floor, while the little animal rests on your outstretched legs—. you can't keep calling yourself a little rabbit, right? a name...

ㅤㅤㅤyou look around the room for some idea. the paintings, decorations, and flowers that you yourself had cut from the yard. none of that seems to catch your attention, except for the jewel with a green stone embedded in a silver ring. even the animal seems to have an idea of ​​what that means, moving its paws in affirmation.

ㅤㅤㅤ—what do you think of teddy? —and looking into his deep and incomprehensible blue eyes, a familiar reaction runs through your body—. teddy...

ㅤㅤㅤand just with that, you should have seen it coming.

ㅤㅤㅤit was friday afternoon, the sun about to set between the mountains behind your house and the icy wind shaking the treetops. your hands are dirty, and while you put the tools in a wooden box, you think about dinner.

ㅤㅤㅤsuddenly, between the bushes behind you, you hear the movement of the leaves. a little scared, you turn around to notice how teddy appears weakly jumping. at first, everything looked fine, but you managed to notice that his hind leg bothered him in a strange way. you don't manage to take a single step when the body of the small animal disappears and in its place is the body of a man. a man you know very well.

ㅤㅤㅤ—ted-theodore nott? —one of his legs has a large bleeding wound, and the black cape is halfway on his shoulders—. no...

ㅤㅤㅤyour heart begins to beat hard, unable to approach his motionless body or run as far away as you can. you don't even know which option you want to follow. his eyes are glued to yours as you understand everything about that magical rabbit that had accompanied you so many nights. he had always been teddy, he had always been theodore nott.

ㅤㅤㅤthere were many memories in your mind that override the words you know he is saying, unable to hear him or put your breathing in order. after all those years, after having fought against him, after having missed him and hated him. theodore nott was right in front of you as a reminder of all the lives you saw go in your own hands.

ㅤㅤㅤ—i need help. i need you.

ㅤㅤㅤlistening to him talk was even worse for your fragile heart. the little sanity left in your body was in your hands, and you can't concentrate when the blood from his leg continues to stain the dying grass.

ㅤㅤㅤ—you can't be here. you have to go, theodore. i-i...

ㅤㅤㅤ—bella, please...

ㅤㅤㅤ—go away!

ㅤㅤㅤhe looks at you with a magnetic force and, letting out a small moan as he stands up, walks up to you. it's only a second that you have to escape, but you can't do anything. your entire body reacts to the simple presence of his person, his gaze, his touch, and his way of lightening the air.

ㅤㅤㅤ—i need you to help me —he says, caressing your cheek so slowly that you feel your body dying at that very moment—. i will leave if you ask me, but i need your help now. you are the best healer in the magical world.

ㅤㅤㅤwith your breathing ragged, denying the part of your brain that asks to run away, you help theodore enter and lie down on the couch. from some drawers in the living room you take out a small box with herbs and elements to make ointments that will help heal the wound.

ㅤㅤㅤ—you have to keep this on the wound. here —you say, passing a healing blade to press the wound—. i must cut the energy to enchant the bands.

ㅤㅤㅤas you lower the energy of the entire house from the basement, light some candles, and go back upstairs, the silence is overwhelming. with a potion, ointment, and enchantment, theodore is much calmer now.

ㅤㅤㅤyou still can't stop the rapid pace of your heart.

ㅤㅤㅤ—now you can go. —theodore looks at you from head to toe, trying to remember your figure into some part of his mind—. you spent months coming here, treating me like a fool. i really can't believe it.

ㅤㅤㅤ—would you have let me in? —he questions, getting up from the couch with a grimace of pain. instantly, you point your wand in his direction—. we both know you wouldn't. i came looking for you, i found you and you expect me to leave. after all?

ㅤㅤㅤ—theo... please.

ㅤㅤㅤ—do you want me to believe that you didn't think about me? i know you don't. i miss you, love. these five years have been nothing but torture since you left, and i... i need you.

ㅤㅤㅤyou deny, trying to erase the force that pushes the tears to your reddened cheeks. your hand starts to shake because, after all, theodore is always right. even if you wanted to escape your other life, to erase his absence or memories, you could never do it.

ㅤㅤㅤ—are you still with them? —you ask, in the middle of tears and afraid that the answer is affirmative—. you are still by their side, right?

ㅤㅤㅤ—i didn't come for that.

ㅤㅤㅤtheodore takes your wrist to take the wand away. his other hand travels from your legs to your back, tickling every area that his large, rough hand goes over.

ㅤㅤㅤ—you have no idea how much i missed you.

ㅤㅤㅤhe gently pushes you against a furniture next to the fireplace and with a click lights the wood you had put in the morning. his hand knocks everything on the table to the floor, taking little care of the creaking of the figurines or books.

ㅤㅤㅤ—haven't you missed me? —you can't talk. his hands have slipped under your shirt, and he presses between your legs as if he couldn't wait to feel you close—. i've seen you think of me every time you look at the amulets i gave you, reading my books and caressing their pages as if they were my body. do you think i don't know about all the photos you have saved? if you had... if you had the slightest idea that we were in the same place.

ㅤㅤㅤhis lips crash against yours with such overwhelming need that you can't help but follow the movement of his mouth. his lips demanding more, squeezing your back to join his chest to yours and his hand fitting perfectly on your waist make all kinds of emotions blossom inside you.

ㅤㅤㅤyour clothes fly in all directions, and theodore's kisses begin to descend from your cheeks to your collarbone, sucking and marking your neck so that you don't forget who you belong to. the sensation of his wet lips is so overwhelming and exquisite that you can't keep your moans under control. you were going to lose your mind.

ㅤㅤㅤ—i'm sorry —he whispers, then noticing the scar on your left arm—. i'm so sorry.

ㅤㅤㅤthe scar measures almost fifteen centimeters, going from your forearm to the beginning of your palm. he had made that one himself. the simple memory terrifies him, but not enough to make him lose his mind.

ㅤㅤㅤ—theo, that's already in the past.

ㅤㅤㅤ—no, love. —his hands caress your hair gently—. i know how much i hurt you, how much suffering it all caused you, and why you had to leave. and i'm so sorry. the last thing i wanted was to have you away from me...

ㅤㅤㅤafter the battle at hogwarts, your entire world had fallen to pieces. theodore would never be the person you fell in love with as a teenager again, and after the war, everything became even more blurry. you can only remember the nightmare in which hundreds of classmates fell into a dark hole without being able to save them. everything broke when it was theodore nott who fell without you being able to catch him.

ㅤㅤㅤ—i love you —you mumble, looking into his bright, amazed eyes—. i love you, theodore. i didn't have the chance to...

ㅤㅤㅤhe didn't want to hear it, not when you looked so pretty against the firelight. unable to not touch you any longer, his palms tighten on your legs to sit, with you in his lap, on the couch. your hands begin to unbutton his white blouse, while your mouths click in an exchange of saliva.

ㅤㅤㅤyour hips begin to move at the need for friction, seeking to feel the bulge that is getting harder and harder in his pants. theodore growls every now and then at the sensation of your movement and, without resisting much longer, rips off your underwear in one go.

ㅤㅤㅤ—devilishly perfect and ready for me. —his gaze runs over your body as if he's trying not to forget it again—. were you waiting for me?

ㅤㅤㅤ—y-you have no i-idea... —you try to say, but the wetness of his mouth catching one of your nipples and his hand squeezing the other doesn't allow you to formulate anything clearly—. t-theo...

ㅤㅤㅤyour moans, which had been whispered innocently, intensified much more at the intrusion of his free hand against your clitoris. your nails dig into his shoulders, and even though you try not to move your hips against the sensation, you can't stay still.

ㅤㅤㅤ—don't move. shit.

ㅤㅤㅤyou nod, biting your lip to try to obey the order.

ㅤㅤㅤ—theo... —you whisper, looking him straight in the eyes.

ㅤㅤㅤ—what's wrong, babe?

ㅤㅤㅤhis fingers playing with your pussy couldn't be more precise, complicating communication.

ㅤㅤㅤ—tell me, darling. or can't you talk?

ㅤㅤㅤ—i need more. much more. —the evil smile that spreads on his lips leaves you breathless—. ​​please.

ㅤㅤㅤhe takes your jaw to direct your mouth in a messy kiss that lasts less than you wanted, but everything gets much better after. stopping massaging your clit, he brings two fingers to his mouth, licking lasciviously and deeply. how could you avoid smiling at such an image? theodore, for his part, can only think that if he were an animal he would have looked for a way to sink his cock into you.

ㅤㅤㅤ—do you like what you see? —you nod strongly, eager and needy—. let's see how much you can take, shall we?

ㅤㅤㅤhis fingers, thanks to your own juices, slide without problem inside you. the warm walls of your interior feel like heaven for theodore's fingers, who doesn't ask for permission or approval to start moving his hand, curling his fingers to make you tremble and caressing every corner he reaches to hear you moan loudly.

ㅤㅤㅤhis other hand caresses your cheek with his thumb, erasing the small tears of pleasure that have run down your cheekbones.

ㅤㅤㅤyour body throbs everywhere, full of desire and intoxicated by the brown-haired boy's blue gaze. theodore was fascinated by the way you pressed yourself, splashing some of your own fluids on his clean pants and moaning shamelessly. he loved the way your tits moved with you and how your hair fell over your shoulders delicately. so fucking perfect that he could devour you.

ㅤㅤㅤ—i-i'm going to cum.

ㅤㅤㅤ—no, did you think so?

ㅤㅤㅤwithout warning his fingers leave your interior, leaving a void that is quickly replaced by the beautiful sight in front of you. theodore brings his fingers to his mouth and, with his other hand, unbuttons his pants. you had forgotten how big and long he was.

ㅤㅤㅤ—you taste so fucking good, sweetheart. do you want to feel it as much as i do? tell me you hadn't forgotten...

ㅤㅤㅤyour right hand makes its way from his abdomen to his cock, spreading the precum on the tip of his length. theodore can't stifle the hoarse moan that escapes his throat at the feeling of your soft hands going up and down.

ㅤㅤㅤ—enough playing —he says, pushing your hand away and taking your hips to position you better—. i need to be inside you, now.

ㅤㅤㅤ—w-wait theo —you mumble, feeling him make his way between your wet folds—. n-no...

ㅤㅤㅤ—i need you to take it all, love. i need to bury myself in you or i'll go crazy.

ㅤㅤㅤhis words manage to relax you a little more and he, still holding your waist, pulls you down by surprise. the gasp makes you whimper, but theodore can't control himself when you wrap him up so tightly.

ㅤㅤㅤwith the help of your legs and the grip tightening on your hips you can go up and down while his hips meet yours when they push up. the sound of your skin slapping against his, moans, groans, and creaks of the couch might have been enough to make you lose your mind.

ㅤㅤㅤ—t-theodore. more...

ㅤㅤㅤhe starts to trace kisses on your torso and says—: asking for more when you get tighter and tighter, aren't you?

ㅤㅤㅤyour synchronized movements begin to become disordered by the explosive sensation building up in your sexes. theodore helps you in the last thrusts against his cock and it happens as unexpectedly as his exit from inside you. both of you exploding against each other, mixing juices in his lap.

ㅤㅤㅤtheodore stays hidden on your neck for a while, kissing softly and calming his breathing. when he stops hiding, he dedicates himself to watching you for a while longer, loaded with lust and desire.

ㅤㅤㅤ—i love you —he says, and taking your legs, he spins you around on the couch to get on top of you—. that's why i'm not done, mia bellissima ragazza.

[unboundprompts]

prompts for spring, summer, autumn, winter eyes! (The characters literally stand for each season!! They have eyes that hold the seasons)

Different Ways to Describe Seasonal Eyes

-> feel free to edit and adjust pronouns as you see fit.

Spring

He had eyes like the fields of the pastures, green grass nearly up to your knees.

Her eyes were the flower beds that his mother used to prepare when spring finally arrived after a cold winter. Flowers would bloom and blossom in every color imaginable.

Their eyes were like the honey from the honeybees that arrived with the promise of spring.

Summer

Her eyes were a babbling brook, like crisp water on a warm day.

He had eyes that blazed like a hot summer sun.

Their eyes were warm rays and beach days, filled with laughter and freedom.

Autumn

She had eyes the color of the dying leaves, painted red, yellow, and brown.

His eyes were a winding road on a foggy morning, dying branches scratching at the edge.

Their eyes were of burnt out candles, pumpkins placed on doorsteps, and footsteps splashed in puddles on an old street.

Winter

His eyes were snowflakes, irises decorated with a delicate design.

She had eyes like icy mountains and falling snow.

Their eyes were a crisp breeze in the dead of winter, a frozen pond on a stagnant afternoon.

If you like what I do and want to support me, please consider buying me a coffee! I also offer editing services and other writing advice on my Ko-fi! Become a member to receive exclusive content, early access, and prioritized writing prompt requests.

[evilgwrl]

Neighbour!Simon Riley x Reader

Girl Next Door (Seven)

CW: Jealous Simon, oral sex (m receiving), cum swallowing, praise, bit of spanking

Previous Chapter, Next Chapter

The morning air was gentle, a soft ray cast through an open window, blinds not shut. The tickle of hair brushed against your stomach, the scent of cotton and whiskey brushing past your ear as your eyes fluttered open.

Simon was warm, the pudge of his belly radiating against your back. You stirred, a soft groan leaving your head as your brain racked, throbbing with an arrogant hangover. Your body was compliant, sticking to the sheets as you wriggled, a quick hand grabbing at your waist.

“Stop wriggling like that,” Simon snapped, voice tense with slumber.

“It’s how I wake up,” you yawned, pressing at the static in your eyes as he laughed against the back of your neck.

“It’s waking me up too,” the evident hardness of his boner flushed against your ass. Your face stilled, movements stopping as you squeaked out an apology.

There was a gentle tick from cicadas outside as you walked into the garden, the bristle of hot air against your bare thighs as you nestled a cup of coffee into your palms. The flowers were bright, transcendent colours flickering across a simple green as you rested against a porch chair.

The English air was a windless ruin, the scent of the sun blazing against wood filling the air as you shielded your eyes, treading along grass as your hands tipped a metal can of water onto the flora.

“Gardens nice,” a voice said.

Simon’s hips hung low with a towel, distinct V-line disposing into the cotton as a delicate trail of hair followed. You swallowed, visibly.

“Thank you,” you gawked, eyes slightly wide as you breathed in the image of him, iris’ soaked in arousal.

“You want to grab breakfast?”

“And they call him Soap?” You giggle, mouth crinkling as your eyes closed, squinting as Simon explained his task force to you, or the men you indecently exposed.

“Gave it to ‘em because of how fast he cleans out a room.”

“And why do they call you Ghost?”

The name was strange leaving your mouth, the foreignness of someone so different to the military speaking it sending a chill through him as he maintained composure.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?”

The café was bustling, the bricks stacked with corny quotes and pictures of regulars, the mint counter littered with coffee grounds and spilt milk. Eyes wandered on the bulky man next to you, but he didn’t pay attention, simply watching you as you spilled workplace secrets.

The croissant you were scoffing down crumby as it collected on the side of your lips, the tickle of pastry paying you no mind as you rambled. Simon took in the way your eyes darted back and forth when you spoke too much and the way your hands displayed actions when you wanted to emphasise something.

He noticed how your nose twitched slightly as you sucked in deeper breaths than normal, and he noticed the light fluster of blush across your cheek when he gazed at you.

You scrunched your brows together as he looked at your lips, his own creasing up slightly with amusement.

“What?” You said, confused before a calloused thumb reached out and rubbed at the side of your lip, speckles of crumbs falling from your face as you groaned.

“I had food on my face the whole time and you didn’t tell me?”

“Didn’t wan’ interrupt your gossip session.”

The environment felt stagnant apart from the two of you, his thumb still pressed against your cheek with a light pressure, umber eyes seeping through his sockets as he memorised every crease of your skin. His ears hissed with a monotone ring, too focused on the speckles of shade that fell between your facial apertures.

“You’re-“

“Y/N?”

The voice was familiar, yet foggy, an immediate sense of dread running through you as you stared at Louis, his body clad with a flannel shirt and scuffed-up jeans. His face was bright with a smile, arms wide as you stood, awkwardly waving.

“You ran off too fast last night,” he prattled, wrapping his arms around your waist as he pulled you flush against him. You pulled away in an abhorrent manner, turning around to face Simon, a scowl crossing his face.

“Had to deal with something,” you muttered as Simon raised from his seat, towering over the pair of you as he cleared his throat.

“Ah- sorry mate, you must be?” Louis yakked, his chest puffing slightly as he faced the larger man.

Simon nearly scoffed into the air, “Simon.”

“It was nice seeing you, Louis,” you smiled, lips tight as you grabbed at your neighbour’s wrist gently.

“Before you go,” he jerked, grabbing onto your shoulder softly, “I was wondering if you wanted to go out again, y’know, us two?”

“I don’-“

“She’s fine.” Simon’s voice was sharp, every syllable cutting through the thickening tension, barely visible cloud of discomfort clouding around your table as you excused the both of you, mingled bodies hustling out of the crowded corner store.

Your smile was amused, shoving at the muscle of his bicep, “She’s fine?”

The look from the Lieutenant was dirty but playful, almost tempting you to argue with him, luring more of his possessive words out, “Don’t need another man eating the pussy I ate, do I?”

The words rolled from his tongue in a motion of filth as you slapped his chest, a boyish laugh sounding from him as he opened the car door for you. The drive home was windy, the usual speckle of trees greeting you as his long fingers wrapped around the stick shift as he focused on the hardened tar before him.

Your thighs, covered by a gentle sundress, were wet, a combination of arousal and sweat leaking from your panties as an evident dark patch pressed against your heat as you shifted uncomfortably. Horny eyes glanced down to his jeans, an evident strain bulging close to his zipper as you swallowed.

Tantalising fingers stroked the flesh of his arm gently as he smiled at you before they fell onto his lap, groping lightly at the hardness of his thighs, a slow trail teasing his crotch as he coughed.

“What are you doing, sweet’art?” His voice tight.

“Returning the favour.” The jerk of his car was immediate, hazards flickering in the distance as he pulled down an emptier road, dirt skidding against the tyres as he halted.

Your fingers were quick as they unzipped his pants, his hands swatting yours away as he pulled them down, large curvature poking through his briefs, precum soaking across the tip as you kissed your teeth.

Your hand was quick to grab at his erection, letting the intimidating length rest in your palms as you watched him through hooded eyes. He was quick to rid his undergarments, healthy cock springing out as it slapped against gentle curls.

The head was flushed a light red, pearly silk collecting as you swiped a thumb across it, a gentle hiss leaving his lips. Your mouth was quick to lean down, a glob of spit landing on his shaft as your hands worked against his cock with a smooth pace, gentle groans eliciting from him.

Your mouth was warm, bathing him in instant pleasure as full lips suckled at the tip, tongue running along his member with ease as you welcomed him down your throat.

Simon’s fingers wrapped around your hair, working it into a messy ponytail as he bucked upwards, a choke sounding from your stuffed throat.

Your ass was flushed in the air as he leaned his chair back, dress pooling around your tummy as the fabric fell down the plushness of your thighs.

“Good fucking girl, so good at taking me, ain’t you? Bet this is nearly as nice as your pretty pussy.”

His words spurred you on, your mouth working faster along his dick as you held a tight grip on the remainder, another hand grabbing gently at heavy balls as he delivered a harsh spank to your exposed ass, panties wedged into the puffy lips of your pussy as you whined against him.

“Gonna fill this pretty mouth up, fuck- take you as mine. You gonna let me do that, baby?”

You nodded against him, cheeks hollowed around him as you traced a thick vein, earning a deep groan from him.

The windows fogged, dirty evidence surrounding the car as you gagged, slobbering down him as you hummed, feeding him down your mouth that would no doubt bruise later.

His hand was groping at your flesh, watching the way it melted into his palm with every slap, tender flesh jiggling against him. It was a sight for sore eyes as he guided you along his length.

His balls were taunt, desperate to release as you continued your pleasurable torment. “This mouth was made for me- Jesus Christ-“

With a final gag down his cock he was coming, your mouth rushed with the taste of tangy salt, a loud moan purring through his chest as you swallowed, pulling up with a pant as your tear-streaked eyes fluttered up at him.

“Fucking beautiful, ain’t you?”

[batboysanonymous]

To Break a Warrior

Cassian x Reader

Summary: When Y/n is sent to the Spring Court on a mission that leaves her shattered in body and spirit, Cassian must prove that loving a warrior means fighting beside her, even when the battle is within her own heart.

*Some of this is made up for the storyline*

Rhys didn’t look at you when he gave the order. That should have been your first warning.

“Tamlin’s been quiet too long,” the High Lord said from where he stood at the windows of the River House, hands clasped behind his back, violet gaze fixed on the sea of stars above Velaris. “Feyre and I both agree someone needs to check on him.”

Your fingers curled into the hem of your tunic to hide the tremor. “Send Azriel.”

It wasn’t a request. It was common sense. Az knew how to slip in and out of courts unseen. He wouldn’t be provoked the way you would.

Rhys’s smile was thin, sharp enough to cut. “Tamlin doesn’t hate Azriel the way he hates you.”

Because you were Night Court through and through. Because you had stood beside Feyre during the war, had smiled that wicked smile only a Night Court female could conjure when you watched Hybern burn. Because you were nothing Tamlin could stomach—and everything Rhys wanted to rub in his face.

You swallowed down the knot in your throat. “He’ll attack me.”

“Then defend yourself.” Rhys’s voice was velvet over steel. “You are a warrior of this court, Y/n. If you cannot handle a visit to a washed-up High Lord, perhaps you shouldn’t be sitting at this table at all.”

The blow landed—clean and brutal. Your teeth clamped down on the words you wanted to throw back. You didn’t dare glance at Cassian, though you felt the weight of his stare from across the room.

He hadn’t spoken since Rhys gave the order. Hadn’t fought for you.

That, somehow, hurt more.

──

The Spring Court felt like it was rotting from the inside out.

The once-lush fields were strangled with overgrown vines, the grass scorched in patches like Tamlin had burned it in a fit of rage. Even the air tasted wrong—thick, humid, the faint scent of spoiled flowers making your stomach churn.

You shouldn’t have come alone. You knew it the second your boots crossed the border, the shield Rhys had laced around you flickering faintly in the golden light. It felt too thin. Insufficient. Like even Rhys hadn’t expected you to make it out.

You’re capable, you told yourself, trying to drown out the doubt thrumming in your chest. Rhys wouldn’t have sent you if you weren’t.

Except…he would.

Your heart hammered harder with every step up the cracked marble stairs leading to Tamlin’s front door. The place looked abandoned—windows broken, the once-beautiful façade covered in dirt and dead vines. But the moment you touched the heavy brass handle, you knew you weren’t alone.

The door swung open before you could knock.

Tamlin stood there, barefoot and rumpled, like he hadn’t slept in days. His golden hair was tangled, his green eyes sunken and wild, bright with something you couldn’t name. But it was the smile that made your stomach curdle—the slow, curving thing that had no warmth at all.

“Back so soon?” His voice was smoke and glass shards, scraping at your ears.

You forced your chin higher, though your pulse thudded so loudly you could barely hear yourself speak. “I’m here on behalf of the Night Court.” You hated how rehearsed the words sounded. Like you were a child parroting a script. “Rhysand requests an update on—”

He laughed. Low and sharp and utterly humorless.

“Rhysand sends a messenger girl to check on me?” Tamlin’s fingers curled around the doorframe, claws slipping free in tiny, almost lazy flickers. “How pathetic. Does he not even bother sending his shadows anymore?”

You tried to hold your ground. “I’m not a messenger girl.”

“Aren’t you?” He leaned closer, and though the scent of him was the same—fresh-cut grass and sun-warmed earth—it was tinged now with something rotting. Like that poison had bled into his very skin.

You opened your mouth—to argue, to defend yourself, you weren’t sure. But his hand shot out faster than you could track, wrapping around your wrist.

“Let me go.” Your voice was sharp. Too sharp. It gave away the sliver of fear crawling beneath your skin.

Tamlin’s smile didn’t waver. “You took everything from me.”

Your throat went tight. “I didn’t take anything.”

“You stood beside her.” His grip tightened, claws pricking through the leather of your sleeve, just enough for a bead of blood to well. “You laughed while my court crumbled. You and your filthy Court of Nightmares.”

You wrenched back, free hand reaching for the dagger at your hip—but vines shot from the floor, wrapping around your ankles before you could even unsheath it.

“Don’t.” Tamlin’s voice was soft. Soft in the way a predator coaxes prey into stillness. “Don’t pretend you’re a warrior, little girl.”

Anger flared beneath the fear. “You want me to beg? To apologize? I won’t.”

His hand shot out again, this time slamming into your chest with a blast of magic so forceful you flew back, spine colliding with the opposite wall hard enough to crack the plaster. Pain burst through your ribs like fire.

You hit the floor coughing, gasping for breath—but there was no time to recover. The vines snaked tighter, dragging you forward across the marble, over broken glass and debris until they coiled around your arms, holding you spread-eagle like some grotesque marionette.

Tamlin stalked toward you, each step measured. Controlled.

“You think you’re one of them,” he murmured, eyes flicking up and down your trembling body. “But you’re not. You’re just their pawn. A disposable little soldier they’ll burn through and forget.”

You gritted your teeth against the pain. “I’m not afraid of you.”

“Liar.”

His magic yanked your arm at a brutal angle, dislocating your shoulder with a sickening pop. You screamed before you could stop yourself, the sound echoing off the empty walls.

Tears blurred your vision, but you swallowed the sob threatening to break free. You wouldn’t give him that.

“You’re not even worth killing.” Tamlin’s voice was bored now, dismissive. “Go home to your High Lord. Crawl back to your precious General. Let them see what their little pet looks like when the mask comes off.”

He dropped you.

Just like that, the vines loosened, and you crumpled to the floor in a heap, cheek pressing into the cold marble. You could feel the blood seeping through your torn leathers, the grinding ache in your ribs with every breath.

“Get out of my court,” Tamlin said quietly. “Before I change my mind.”

It took everything in you to push to your hands and knees, every muscle trembling with the effort. Your fingers slipped in your own blood. But you crawled—each inch toward the door a battle.

You didn’t look back.

Even when you felt his eyes on your spine, even when your broken shoulder screamed with agony, even when you felt the whisper of his power trailing after you like a ghost.

──

The air felt too thick in your lungs.

Each breath tasted like dirt and blood and shattered pride, your cheek pressed into the cold ground outside Tamlin’s manor. You had crawled this far—through the broken doorway, across those steps, through the weeds and rot choking the garden path. Your body screamed at you to stop.

You didn’t.

Your dislocated arm hung useless at your side, every tiny jostle sending molten agony lancing through your shoulder. Blood streaked your hands, slick with grime, glass and thorns embedded in your palms. You could barely see—one eye swelling shut, the other blurred with tears you couldn’t hold back.

But the bond—gods, the bond.

It was a thin, silver cord in your chest, a lifeline you hadn’t wanted to rely on. You had fought so hard to stand on your own, to prove you were more than Cassian’s mate, more than the weakest link in the Inner Circle. But now…

Cassian.

You whispered it into the bond, voice so faint you weren’t sure it would reach him. It was barely a thought, a trembling plea wrapped in agony and shame.

But Cassian heard.

The response was instant—like a crack of thunder, that golden warmth roaring to life across the tether between you, flooding your senses. His fear slammed into you so hard you gasped, your battered lungs failing to catch enough air.

Y/n? Y/N.

It wasn’t a question. It was panic sharpened to a blade, his voice raw with terror.

You could feel the sky shift. His wings slicing through clouds as he launched from wherever he was—felt the storm of his rage boiling up like magma beneath his skin. But it was the fear that broke you.

You’d never felt him afraid like this. Not in the war. Not in any battle.

But your pain—your weakness—was a dagger straight into his heart.

“Please,” you whispered aloud, voice rasping into the dirt.

You didn’t know if you said it for him—or for yourself.

The world started to tilt, dark edges closing in. You couldn’t feel your legs anymore. Couldn’t even hold yourself up. You were collapsing into the earth, breath hitching, pain blooming like a thousand flowers beneath your skin.

But you clung to the bond.

Even as everything else slipped from your fingers—your pride, your strength, your sense of self—you held onto him.

I’m coming.

The bond shuddered with the force of those words, like he was pouring every bit of himself down that invisible thread. You could feel his wings beating furiously against the wind, his heart pounding just as hard as yours.

You closed your eyes.

He would come.

Even if Rhys never believed in you. Even if the whole court thought you were a mistake.

Cassian would come.

You didn’t remember the moment he landed. Didn’t hear the rush of wind, the crack of his boots on soil. You only felt—

Scarred hands, gentle despite their strength, cupping your face. His fingers trembling against your bloodstained skin, voice cracking as he said your name, over and over, like a prayer.

“Y/n.”

You tried to smile, but it felt broken too. “Took you long enough.”

His laugh was half-sob, half-roar, torn from somewhere deep inside his chest. “You scared the shit out of me.”

You didn’t answer, couldn’t, because he was gathering you into his arms, careful but desperate, cradling you like you were something precious—something he was terrified might slip away if he wasn’t careful enough.

His wings wrapped around you, shielding you from the world, his scent of cedar and smoke cocooning you safe in the storm of his fury and fear.

“Who did this to you?” he asked, voice low and lethal.

You didn’t answer. Not yet. Not when it took all your strength just to breathe.

Cassian’s hand slid down your back, fingers mapping each bruise, each broken place, memorizing the evidence of your suffering like he might etch it into his bones and never forget.

When his fingers brushed your dislocated shoulder, you whimpered before you could stop yourself.

Cassian swore—ugly and guttural—and held you closer.

“I’ve got you,” he murmured into your hair, voice softer now. “I’ve got you, sweetheart. Just hold on.”

You clung to the front of his leathers, tears hot against your raw skin, and let yourself believe him.

Even if you didn’t deserve to.

─────────────

Through the bond, he could feel everything.

The pain. The sharp, ragged edges of her pride torn to shreds. The humiliation curdling in her gut. And beneath it all—the small, flickering ember of her belief that none of them had ever truly wanted her.

That she had been sent to fail.

Cassian’s heart nearly stopped.

He had to grit his teeth so hard his jaw ached just to keep from flying straight to the River House and demanding answers from Rhys right now.

But Y/n came first.

Always.

Her breathing hitched against his chest, and Cassian laid his hand over her ribcage, fingers splayed to feel the fragile rise and fall of her breath. Each time her ribs moved, he whispered down the bond, a stream of words and feelings and warmth, steadying her even as his own rage threatened to drown him.

You’re safe now. I have you. I’m here. I’m here. I’m here.

And through the crack in her defenses, through her pain and shame and silence, came the smallest response.

I’m sorry.

It broke him.

Don’t you dare apologize. Don’t you dare.

But she was already drifting, consciousness slipping. Cassian held her tighter, his heartbeat thundering for both of them.

“You’ll be okay,” he whispered aloud, into her hair. “I’ll get you home. I’ll fix this. I swear to the Mother, I will fix this.”

And the sky itself trembled beneath the weight of his vow.

────

Rhys was waiting when Cassian landed.

Y/n was cradled against his chest, her face slack with exhaustion, body battered and limp in his arms. Cassian barely had enough restraint to keep from shaking her awake every two minutes, just to make sure she was still breathing. Every uneven beat of her heart thrummed down the bond, and with each one, Cassian’s temper frayed further and further.

Rhys stood at the edge of the River House steps, hands clasped behind his back. Feyre beside him, worry etched deep between her brows. The High Lady took a step forward, but Cassian’s wings flared, cutting her off.

“Don’t,” Cassian snarled.

The sound of his voice was pure violence. Feyre froze, mouth parting in shock.

“She needs a healer,” Rhys said, his voice calm. Careful.

“She needed backup.” Cassian’s voice cracked like a whip. “She needed protection. She needed someone to actually believe in her.”

He stalked past them, his steps heavy enough to make the ground tremble beneath his boots. The healer was already inside—thank the Mother someone had at least prepared for that—but Cassian wasn’t done.

He laid Y/n down gently, brushing a strand of hair from her forehead, then rounded on Rhys with all the fury of a storm.

“Why her?” Cassian’s wings snapped open, his voice low and dark. “Why send her to Tamlin alone? You know what he’s like. You knew.”

Rhys didn’t flinch. “Tamlin would’ve smelled my magic on anyone else. He had to believe it was a gesture of good faith. If I’d sent Amren, or Az, or even Feyre, it would have been war all over again.”

“So you sent her.” Cassian’s chest heaved. “You sent her to prove a point? To test her?”

Feyre’s voice was soft. “Rhys didn’t mean for her to get hurt—”

Cassian’s laugh was jagged. “He didn’t care if she did.”

That silence said enough.

Cassian’s hands curled into fists, shaking at his sides. “I thought we were past this.” His voice was quieter now, almost hoarse. “I thought you were done using people as pawns.”

Rhys’s jaw tightened. “This court’s survival requires sacrifices. You know that.”

“She’s not a sacrifice.” Cassian’s voice broke at the edges. “She’s my mate.”

Feyre sucked in a sharp breath, her hand flying to her mouth. Rhys’s expression flickered for the briefest second—but Cassian didn’t care.

“She’s my mate,” Cassian said again, softer this time. “And you nearly got her killed.”

Rhys held his gaze. “And if you let that blind you, you’ll get her killed yourself.”

Cassian’s vision went red, but the healer called from inside, voice urgent.

He turned without another word, wings tucking tight against his back. He’d deal with Rhys later. Right now, Y/n was the only thing that mattered.

──────

Y/n was asleep in their room when Cassian stormed into the River House again, wings flared so wide they nearly knocked a vase off the entry table. He hadn’t even bothered with his leathers—just an old shirt thrown on over his bandaged knuckles, his hair still damp from washing off Y/n’s blood.

Rhys was in the study, leaning against the desk with a glass of wine in hand, his jaw tight like he’d been waiting for this.

“Explain,” Cassian said, voice low and dangerous.

“She’s fine now,” Rhys said, tone careful but not remorseful enough for Cassian’s liking. “She’s alive.”

“Don’t.” Cassian’s hand slammed onto the desk so hard the wood groaned. “Don’t you fucking downplay this.”

Rhys’s nostrils flared. “I did what I had to—”

“She is my mate.” Cassian’s voice shook the walls, his wings trembling with restraint. “You sent her there like she was nothing—like she was expendable—and you knew. You knew Tamlin would rip her apart if she so much as looked at him wrong.”

“She needed to prove—”

“To who?” Cassian’s voice cracked. “To you? To this fucking court?”

“She needed to prove it to herself.”

Cassian went still.

Rhys’s gaze was like steel. “Do you think I don’t see what eats at her? Every time she stands in a room with us, do you think I don’t feel how small she thinks she is? How much she believes you’re the only reason she’s still standing here?”

Cassian’s teeth bared. “That wasn’t your call to make.”

The study door swung open hard enough to bang against the wall.

“You’re right,” Feyre said, voice sharp and cold. “It wasn’t.”

Rhys’s head whipped around. “Feyre darling—”

“No.” Her hands shook at her sides, knuckles white. “Don’t darling me right now.”

Cassian’s chest heaved, his anger a living, breathing thing beside him. But for once, it wasn’t just his fury filling the room.

“You could’ve gotten her killed,” Feyre said, voice low but vibrating with anger. “For what? Some twisted test? You used her, Rhys.”

“It was calculated,” Rhys said, but the words rang hollow even in his own mouth. “Tamlin wouldn’t hurt someone who wasn’t a threat.”

Feyre laughed—a sharp, humorless thing. “You mean like he didn’t hurt me?”

The silence after that was deafening.

Cassian’s fists clenched again, the memories of Feyre’s bruises—the hollow look in her eyes when she’d first come to Velaris—still sharp in his mind.

“You of all people,” Feyre said, her voice cracking, “should have known better.”

Rhys’s throat bobbed. “I—”

“She is our family.” Feyre’s voice shook now. “Whether you like her or not. Whether you think she’s good enough or not. She is ours. And you let her bleed for your pride.”

Cassian had to look away—because if he met Rhys’s eyes, he wasn’t sure he could stop himself from putting his fist straight through his brother’s jaw.

Rhys closed his eyes for a long moment, and when he opened them, the weight of it all settled there—the guilt, the fear he hadn’t admitted, the quiet, ugly truth that he hadn’t expected Y/n to come back in one piece.

“Do you even see her?” Cassian asked, voice quieter now, but no less lethal. “Or is she just a liability you tolerate because I love her?”

Rhys didn’t answer.

That silence told Cassian everything.

“Fix it,” Cassian said, turning toward the door. “Because if you ever use her like that again, I don’t give a shit that you’re my High Lord. I will rip you apart.”

Rhys didn’t argue.

And when Cassian left, it wasn’t just the tension that hung heavy in the air.

It was the fracture between brothers. A wound that might never fully heal.

────

The first thing Y/n registered when she woke was the ache in her shoulder—followed closely by the too-warm weight of a calloused hand clasped gently around her own.

Cassian.

Her eyes cracked open, the soft candlelight catching on the gold in his brown eyes. His head was bowed, his thumb stroking the back of her hand in a slow, mindless rhythm.

“You’re awake,” he rasped.

Y/n swallowed, throat raw. “Unfortunately.”

Cassian’s lips quirked, but his smile didn’t reach his eyes. “Don’t say that.”

Silence stretched between them.

He wasn’t touching the bond. Neither was she. Both too afraid to open that door—to face everything unsaid inside it.

“You shouldn’t have come,” Y/n whispered.

Cassian’s head snapped up. “What?”

“I could’ve handled it.” Her voice was bitter. “Or I should have.”

Cassian’s chair scraped against the floor as he stood, pacing like a caged beast. “Handle it? You almost died.”

Y/n stared at her hands. The bandages. The bruises already darkening her skin.

“I’m not like Feyre,” she said quietly. “I’m not powerful, or clever, or—”

“Stop.”

“I’m not like Nesta,” she went on, voice cracking. “I’m not a warrior. I’m not—”

“Stop.”

Cassian’s voice was low and fierce, but Y/n couldn’t stop the flood now that it had started.

“I’m just the girl Rhys tolerates because you want me here. That’s all I’ve ever been.”

Cassian knelt beside her, gripping the arms of her chair, his face so close she could feel his breath. “That’s not true.”

“Isn’t it?” Her voice broke entirely. “If I was worth anything to this court, he wouldn’t have sent me alone.”

Cassian’s hands slid into her hair, his forehead pressing against hers. “You are worth everything.”

Y/n’s breath shuddered out, her fingers tangling in his shirt. “Then why does it feel like I’m not?”

Cassian had no answer. So he just held her.

────

It was three days before Y/n could stand without wincing. Five before she could move through the halls without Cassian hovering like a storm cloud at her shoulder.

But even then, her steps were careful, measured, as if each one might shatter the fragile illusion that she belonged here at all.

Cassian saw it in the way she avoided the training ring, the way her eyes slid off the others whenever they spoke of strategy or battle. Saw the doubt sinking deeper and deeper into her skin.

He found her on the cliffs, sitting with her knees pulled to her chest, watching the sunset.

She didn’t turn when he landed beside her, though his wings stirred the grass.

“I’m not fragile, you know,” she said, voice soft but not unkind.

“No,” Cassian agreed. “But you are bleeding inside, and I can’t stand watching you pretend you’re not.”

Her fingers curled into the fabric of her pants, knuckles tight. “I’m not like you. Or Feyre. Or even Nesta. I don’t have power. I don’t have—”

“You have courage.”

She laughed, but there was no humor in it. “Courage doesn’t mean shit when you’re face-down in the dirt.”

Cassian crouched beside her, resting his forearms on his knees. “Then let’s make sure you never end up there again.”

Y/n’s brow furrowed. “What?”

“I’m going to train you,” Cassian said, as if it were the simplest truth in the world. “Properly. Not just enough to get by. Enough to make you dangerous.”

Y/n turned to him, eyes wide with uncertainty. “You don’t have to—”

“I want to.” His voice was low, rough with something too tender to name. “Because this is what you don’t see—you belong here. Not because of me. Not because you’re my mate. But because you are strong, and clever, and you deserve to take up space in this court. And if Rhys or anyone else has made you feel otherwise, fuck them.”

Her throat worked as she swallowed, emotion flashing in her eyes. “You really believe that?”

Cassian’s fingers traced her jaw, tilting her face toward his. “I believe in you more than I believe in anything.”

Y/n’s breath caught.

She nodded once, almost shyly, and Cassian stood, holding out a hand.

“Come on,” he said, smiling softly. “Let’s teach you how to break my nose.”

Training was brutal, but not in the way she expected.

Cassian didn’t just drill her in forms and technique—he made her unlearn every quiet apology her body had ever made. Every flinch, every inch she gave up to the world to make herself smaller.

“Stop retreating,” he barked as they circled each other, wooden swords in hand. “You’re not a rabbit.”

“I’m tired, Cass.”

“I don’t care.” His wings flared wide. “The next time someone comes for you, they won’t stop because you’re tired. So fight tired. Fight scared. Fight broken. But fight.”

Y/n’s jaw clenched.

And when she lunged, it wasn’t graceful or pretty—but it was fierce.

Cassian grinned through the sting of her wooden sword cracking against his ribs. “Good.”

Again. And again. And again, until her muscles shook, her heart pounded, and every doubt she carried began to bleed out into the dirt.

By the end, she was breathless, sweat-drenched, and smiling.

Cassian’s grin matched hers. “That’s my girl.”

────

That night, Cassian found her sitting at the edge of their bed, staring at her hands.

“Can’t sleep?” he asked softly, closing the door behind him.

She shook her head. “My body feels like it’s been put through a meat grinder.”

Cassian chuckled, moving toward her. “That’s how you know you did it right.”

But when he knelt between her knees, hands settling on her thighs, his smile faded.

“Talk to me,” he said softly.

Y/n exhaled shakily. “I hate that I needed you to save me.”

Cassian’s thumb brushed the inside of her knee, tracing small, soothing circles. “That’s not weakness.”

“It feels like it.”

“Sweetheart.” His voice was a rasp, his hands sliding up to her waist, so gentle despite the strength in them. “Do you think I never needed Rhys? Or Az? Do you think needing help makes me less a warrior?”

She didn’t answer.

Cassian leaned closer, his forehead brushing hers. “Strength isn’t about never falling. It’s about getting back up. And sometimes, the only reason we can is because someone pulls us to our feet.”

Her eyes burned, tears pricking the corners. “I’m tired of needing to be saved.”

“Then let me stand beside you instead.”

His hands cupped her face, his thumbs brushing away the first stray tears. “You are my equal, Y/n. My mate. My heart. But even the strongest hearts need somewhere soft to rest.”

Y/n’s breath caught, and when Cassian kissed her, it was slow—softer than she expected. Not hunger, but reverence. A kiss that said you are precious.

She melted into him, hands curling into his hair, pulling him closer. And when they tumbled back onto the bed, it wasn’t frantic or desperate. It was worship.

Cassian’s lips traced the line of her throat, her collarbone, the curve of her shoulder. Every scar, every bruise, he kissed as if he could erase them with his mouth alone.

“You scared me,” he whispered, voice cracking. “When I felt you through the bond, I—”

His hands trembled where they held her waist, his forehead pressing to her sternum. “I can’t lose you.”

Y/n curled around him, pulling him up to meet her gaze. “I’m here.”

Cassian kissed her again, deeper now, need threading through the softness. And when his clothes joined hers on the floor, when their bodies tangled together in the sheets, it wasn’t just desire.

It was coming home.

Every touch was a vow. Every breath a promise.

You are enough.

You are mine.

We will fight for each other.

When they finally lay sated in the dark, her head tucked beneath his chin, Cassian traced idle patterns on her back, wings spread protectively over both of them.

“I’ll teach you everything I know,” he murmured into her hair. “And one day, you’ll scare the shit out of anyone who thinks you’re just a pretty face.”

Y/n smiled sleepily, fingers tracing the scar over his heart. “Even you?”

“Especially me.”

He kissed her temple, arms tightening around her. “Now sleep, my love. Tomorrow, we fight again.”

────

The training ring was full when Y/n stepped inside.

Azriel was sparring with Nesta, Mor was leaning against the railings, and Cassian—Cassian was waiting for her, twin blades in hand.

“Alright, sweetheart,” he said, tossing her one. “Show me what you’ve got.”

She caught it easily, sliding into a stance so confident even Az paused to watch.

Cassian came at her fast — no holding back, no mercy. And she met him step for step.

The crack of steel on steel rang through the air, and when Y/n spun low, sweeping his leg out from under him, the collective gasp from the others was delicious.

Cassian hit the dirt, and she planted a boot on his chest, blade pointed at his throat.

His grin was feral. Proud. A little bit in love with how terrifying she looked standing over him.

Mor whistled. Nesta arched a brow. Azriel’s smile was the rarest thing of all — pure, quiet pride.

Y/n offered Cassian her hand, and when he took it, she hauled him up hard enough to make him stumble.

“She’s a menace,” Cassian grinned, slinging an arm around her shoulders.

Y/n only smiled sweetly. “You made me this way.”

And the Inner Circle finally saw — not Cassian’s mate. Not a liability.

But a weapon in her own right.

────

They made it back to their room just before sunset.

Cassian sprawled across the bed, shirtless and still slightly breathless from their sparring. Y/n stood at the window, watching the horizon glow gold and violet.

“You scared them today,” Cassian said, voice warm with pride.

Y/n’s smile was small, but real. “Good.”

He reached for her, and she went willingly, climbing onto the bed beside him. His fingers traced lazy patterns on her back, the comfort of his touch sinking deep into her skin.

“I meant what I said,” he murmured, voice husky. “You’re not just my mate. You’re you. And I love you for every reckless, stubborn, brilliant piece of that.”

Y/n’s heart squeezed tight.

She traced her fingers along his jaw, her touch reverent. “And I love you for seeing me even when I couldn’t.”

Cassian kissed her then — soft, unhurried, the kind of kiss that wasn’t about need or urgency. It was about knowing. About the quiet certainty that whatever storm came next, they would face it together.

When she pulled back, breathless, Cassian grinned up at her.

“So,” he said, wicked and sweet all at once. “Want to practice breaking my nose again?”

Y/n laughed, and for the first time in weeks, it was free and light.

“Tomorrow,” she promised, curling against his chest. “Tonight, just hold me.”

And he did.

Because love wasn’t just about battles fought side by side — it was about the quiet moments after, when two hearts beat as one, and the world felt a little less terrifying.

And in the safety of his arms, Y/n finally knew.

She was home.

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[doodle-pops]

Foreign Hearts

Gil Galad x modern human!reader

A/N: At last, the final piece for the event of this year is out! I wanted to go out with a bang but I didn’t expect to write so much (ノ_･､). Enjoy!

Warnings:modern human reader, fluff, humour, modern reader in Middle Earth, relationship talk

Words: 3.7k

Synopsis: Reflecting on the secrecy of the love you’ve shared with the High King, turned into another romantic and heartwarming moment between you two.

The sun had just begun its slow descent, casting a golden hue over the serene landscape of Rivendell. The air was crisp and cool, carrying with it the sweet fragrance of blooming flowers and the gentle rustle of leaves. The melody of a distant waterfall filled the air, mingling with the song of birds that flitted through the trees. Rivendell was a place of peace, of beauty that seemed untouched by time, and it had become your sanctuary since that fateful day when you had mysteriously appeared in the forests nearby.

It had been months since you found yourself in Middle-earth, a place you had only known from the pages of books and the whispers of legends. One moment, you had been living your life in the modern world, surrounded by the familiar hum of technology and the bustle of city life; the next, you were wandering through a forest that seemed to belong to another time, another world entirely.

The elves who had found you, clad in their silver and green, had been as shocked by your appearance as you were by theirs. You were an anomaly, a puzzle they couldn’t quite piece together. Lord Elrond, the wise and kind ruler of Rivendell, had taken you in, offering you shelter and care as you adjusted to this strange new reality.

Living in Rivendell was like stepping into a dream—everything was so ethereal, so perfect, that you often had to pinch yourself to make sure it was real. Yet, despite the beauty around you, it was hard not to feel out of place. The elves, with their flowing robes, graceful movements, and ancient wisdom, seemed like beings from a different world altogether. Your modern speech, your casual mannerisms, even your sense of humour—things that had been perfectly normal back home—stood out starkly against the elegance of elven customs.

There were times when you caught the elves watching you with a mixture of curiosity and amusement, their ageless faces betraying their thoughts more than they likely realised. You had tried, at first, to conform to their ways, to adopt their formal speech and graceful etiquette. But it was exhausting to maintain, and eventually, you had accepted that you were simply different. You were a visitor in their world, and while you respected their ways, you couldn’t entirely change who you were.

It was during one of these quiet, introspective days that you first met Gil-galad.

The High King of the Noldor had arrived in Rivendell on a visit to consult with his Herald, Lord Elrond. You had heard of him in passing—the Elven king who ruled over Lindon, a figure of great authority and wisdom. But you hadn’t given it much thought, assuming that someone of his stature would have little reason to notice someone like you.

You were wrong.

The meeting had been as unexpected as everything else in Middle-earth. You had been wandering through one of the many gardens of Rivendell, lost in thought, when you nearly collided with someone. Looking up, you found yourself staring into the most striking pair of blue eyes you had ever seen. He was tall—taller than any of the other elves you had met—his presence commanding and regal, yet there was a warmth in his gaze that immediately put you at ease.

“Forgive me,” he had said, his voice smooth and deep, though the amused glint in his eyes told you he wasn’t at all displeased by the encounter.

You had stammered out an apology, feeling flustered and out of place in front of someone so imposing. But the King had only smiled, intrigued by your manner of speech—so different from the formal, melodic tones of the elves. His curiosity was piqued, and instead of continuing on his way, he had engaged you in conversation.

At first, you had been nervous, unsure of how to speak to someone of such high status. But as the conversation flowed, you found yourself relaxing. Gil-galad was different from what you had expected. He was charming and kind, with a sharp wit that matched your own. He seemed genuinely interested in your world, in your experiences, and you found yourself laughing and talking more freely than you had since you arrived in Middle-earth.

Over the course of his stay in Rivendell, you and the High King crossed paths often. Each encounter left you feeling a strange mixture of excitement and confusion. He was a King, after all, and you were… well, you weren’t even sure what you were anymore. Yet, there was no denying the connection that had begun to form between you. It was as though he saw past the strangeness of your situation and was drawn to the very things that made you different.

It was during one of these visits that he had gifted you the music box. A small, intricately carved thing made of mahogany, it played a melody that was hauntingly beautiful. You had been surprised, touched by the gesture, and from that moment on, the music box had become one of your most treasured possessions.

Now, as you sat on the stone bench in one of Rivendell’s many gardens, you found yourself once again lost in thought, the music box cradled in your hands. You had come here to find some peace, to escape the swirling thoughts and emotions that had been troubling you ever since your feelings for Gil-galad began to deepen.

The gardens were quiet, the air cool and filled with the scent of blooming flowers. The sun was low in the sky, casting a soft, golden light over everything. It was a perfect evening, the kind that made you forget, if only for a moment, that you were far from home.

“Does it not trouble you?”

The familiar, smooth voice pulled you from your reverie, and you looked up to see Gil-galad approaching, his expression curious and gentle. He was dressed in his usual attire—garments of silver and royal blue, the colors of his house—his presence as commanding as ever. He sat down beside you on the bench, close enough that you could feel the warmth of his body, but not so close as to make you uncomfortable.

You blinked, trying to shake off the fog of your thoughts as you focused on him. But your gaze was drawn to his lips, and for a moment, you couldn’t think of anything else. His lips, curved into that familiar teasing smile, held your attention, and your thoughts muddled together into a jumble of emotions.

He noticed your gaze and, with a smirk, leaned closer, his voice laced with amusement. “Is there something on my face, or rather, my lips, my love?” he teased, drawing out the moment, clearly enjoying your flustered reaction.

You felt heat rise to your cheeks, and you quickly looked away, focusing intently on the music box in your hands. Your fingers traced the delicate carvings, desperate for something to distract you from the fluttering in your chest. “Your teasing is going to get you into trouble one day, My King,” you muttered, your voice a mix of shyness and annoyance—though the latter was directed more at yourself than at him.

Gil-galad’s expression softened as he leaned back slightly, giving you a bit more space. “How many times must I remind you? You may call me Ereinion,” he said gently, though there was a hint of playful reproach in his tone.

You kept your eyes on the music box, refusing to look up and meet his gaze. “Once more…I suppose,” you replied quietly.

Silence settled between you as he continued to watch you, his eyes tracing the movements of your hands and the way you muttered softly to yourself in a language he couldn’t fully understand. Your mother tongue, ancient and melodic, was a lexicon from a world and age far removed from his own. Yet, despite the differences, he found comfort in these moments, in simply observing you in your element, even when the words escaped him.

“You are unhappy, are you not?” he asked, his voice gentle but laced with an undertone of certainty.

A smile tugged at your lips, as though his statement amused you, and for a brief moment, a crackle of energy filled the air, as if the very atmosphere responded to your unspoken thoughts. Setting the music box aside, you turned to face him, giving him the full weight of your attention. “Why would you come to such a conclusion, or rather, how?” you asked, disbelief coloring your tone. “I don’t recall ever giving the impression that I was.”

His expression softened, though there was a shadow of hurt in his eyes. “You do not address me by my name as lovers do,” he said quietly, his voice tinged with a sadness that pained you to hear. “It is almost as if you were embarrassed or uninterested in being with me. Is it because of our secrecy?”

And as the question hung in the air between you, you realised that this was a moment of truth, a moment when the feelings you had been trying to ignore could no longer be denied.

The weight of his words hung in the air, pressing against your chest like a heavy stone. Gil-galad’s expression, so often the picture of composed regality, was softened by the sadness in his eyes, a sadness that you had never intended to cause. But the truth, like the stone in your chest, was complicated and unyielding.

You reached out, your fingers brushing against his hand, warm and comforting as always. “Ereinion,” you began, the use of his name deliberate, a balm for the hurt you had unknowingly inflicted. “It’s not that I’m embarrassed or uninterested in being with you. Far from it.”

He turned his hand over to grasp yours, his thumb gently tracing circles on your palm. The simple gesture was comforting, grounding you in the moment as you searched for the right words. Words that would explain what you felt without causing him more pain.

“You have to understand,” you continued, your voice soft but steady, “I’m a human, Ereinion. A mortal. And that means…well, it means that I’m different from the people you’ve ruled and loved for centuries. I’ve seen how some of the elves speak about humans—like we’re nothing more than a fleeting thought in their minds. I know that not all of them feel that way, but enough do that it will make our relationship…complicated.”

His brows furrowed slightly, but he didn’t interrupt, simply listening as you voiced the thoughts you had kept buried for so long.

“You’re their High King, their leader, and their symbol of everything that is strong and eternal about the Eldar. And if they knew that you had chosen a human, someone who will live for only a blink of an eye compared to their long lives, to stand by your side…” You trailed off, shaking your head slightly. “I don’t think they would accept it. Not easily, anyway.”

He started to speak, but you held up your hand, a small smile playing on your lips as you looked at him, your heart swelling with affection. “It’s not just that, Ereinion. It’s also…well, I’m happy with things the way they are. Keeping our relationship a secret, it means I don’t have to deal with the expectations and judgments that would come if I were known as your chosen one. It’s a relief, honestly.”

You shifted slightly on the bench, feeling the smooth, cool wood beneath you as you gathered your thoughts. “When I first arrived in Middle-earth—when I was suddenly…here—I was lost. Confused. I didn’t understand your world or its customs. And despite the kindness I’ve been shown, especially by Lord Elrond, I still struggle with it. I’m not like the others. My behaviour, my speech, even the way I think, it’s all…different. I’ve spent over a year in Rivendell, learning and adapting as best I can, but there are times when I still feel like an outsider, like I don’t quite belong.”

The grip he held on your hand tightened slightly, a silent reassurance that he was there, that he understood. His eyes, so often filled with the weight of his responsibilities, now held only concern for you, his secret love.

“I’m not saying this to make you feel guilty,” you added quickly, seeing the flicker of guilt cross his features. “In fact, it’s the opposite. I’m grateful that we can keep our relationship private. It means I don’t have to deal with the pressure of being a ruler, of trying to prove my worth to people who might never accept me. I’ve heard how some of the elves speak of humans—how we’re seen as lesser, as irrelevant. I’ve witnessed the way they look down on us, dismiss us.”

You paused, meeting his gaze with a steady look. “There’s no way they would accept me as their leader. And that’s okay. I don’t need them to. I’m happy with my freedom, with not having to live up to impossible expectations or navigate the treacherous waters of court politics and finding myself crying in a corner every day of the week, anxiously. I’m content being your secret lover, someone who can love you without the weight of a crown on my head.”

A faint smile tugged at the corners of his mouth, making his expression softened further, the sadness giving way to a deep, abiding affection. “You are remarkable,” he said quietly, his voice filled with a kind of awe that made your heart skip a beat. “To find contentment in such circumstances…it’s not something many could do.”

You chuckled softly, the sound breaking the tension that had built between you. “Well, I’ve always been one to adapt, but not this time. Maybe if it was another human instead of me, they might enjoy the idea of being a royal more than the problems it bring,” you teased lightly. “Besides, I’ve never been one for grand titles or public adoration. I prefer the quiet moments, like this one, where I can just be myself with you.”

He nodded, a small, grateful smile crossing his lips. “It’s those quiet moments that I cherish most as well,” he admitted. “In all my years, with all the burdens of leadership, it’s rare to find someone who sees me not as the High King, but as Ereinion—just an elf who loves and is loved in return.”

Your heart warmed at his words, and you squeezed his hand gently. “And that’s exactly how I see you,” you said softly. “I fell in love with you, not for your title or your power, but for who you are—the elf who listens to my ramblings, who teases me when I’m being too serious, who finds joy in the small things.”

The weight of your conversation still hung in the air, but with it came a sense of relief—a feeling that you had finally voiced the thoughts that had been swirling in your mind for so long. Gil-galad’s expression had softened, his eyes still holding that deep affection, but now there was an understanding between you that hadn’t existed before.

You broke the silence first, a small smile playing on your lips as you leaned back on the bench, your fingers still intertwined with his. “You know,” you began, your tone lightening, “I never imagined when I first ended up in Middle-earth that I’d be sitting here with the High King of the Elves, having a heart-to-heart in a secret garden.”

He chuckled softly, the sound a deep, warm rumble that you felt as much as heard. “And I never imagined that I’d fall in love with a human from a world I’ve never even heard of,” he replied, a teasing glint in his eyes. “But life has a way of surprising us, doesn’t it?”

You nodded, a laugh escaping your lips as you thought back to the strange journey that had brought you here. “That’s an understatement. I mean, one day I’m sitting in my apartment, minding my own business, and the next thing I know, I’m in Rivendell, surrounded by elves and trying to figure out how not to embarrass myself with every other word I say.”

Gil-galad’s smile widened, and he leaned back beside you, the tension between you dissipating like morning mist. “I remember the first time I heard you speak,” he mused, his eyes sparkling with amusement. “You were trying to explain the concept of a ‘microwave’ to Elrond, and he looked as though he was trying to decipher an ancient riddle.”

You groaned, your cheeks heating at the memory. “Oh, don’t remind me. I must have sounded like a complete lunatic. I’m still not sure he believes that microwaves aren’t some kind of magic.”

“Well,” Gil-galad said, his tone mock-serious, “you have to admit, it does sound rather magical. A box that cooks food in mere moments? Even I have trouble wrapping my head around it.”

You rolled your eyes, unable to keep the grin off your face. “It’s just science,” you replied with a playful nudge. “But then again, in a world where magic is real, I suppose science might seem a little…mystical.”

He chuckled again, his gaze softening as he looked at you. “That’s one of the things I love about you,” he said, his voice warm. “You bring a perspective that’s entirely different from anything I’ve known. You see the world in a way that none of us do, and it’s…refreshing.”

You raised an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at your lips. “So what you’re saying is, you fell for me because I’m weird?”

He laughed, the sound full and genuine, and you couldn’t help but join in. “Well, if by ‘weird,’ you mean unique, then yes,” he teased, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “And besides, I think you’re the only person who can make me laugh like this.”

You tilted your head, a mischievous glint in your eyes. “Oh, so I’m your court jester now? Should I start juggling or learn to ride a unicycle?”

Shaking his head, his laughter fading into a soft smile. “No, you’re much more than that. But if you do learn to juggle, I’m sure we could arrange a performance at the next feast.”

You playfully swatted his arm, your heart feeling lighter with each moment you spent in his company. “You’re incorrigible, you know that?”

He leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a low murmur. “Only with you, my love.”

The warmth of his breath against your skin sent a pleasant shiver down your spine, and you felt your resolve to keep things light slipping away under the intensity of his gaze. But before you could lose yourself in the moment, you caught yourself and leaned back, a smirk on your lips as you tried to regain the upper hand.

“You know,” you said, your tone teasing, “if this is your way of convincing me to move in with you, you’re going to have to try harder. I’ve grown rather fond of my little room in Rivendell, and I’m not sure I’m ready to give up my bach pad just yet.”

His brow raised and lips quirking into a smile. “Oh? And what would it take to tempt you away from your ‘bach pad,’ as you call it? A private suite in the palace? Endless bouquets of flowers delivered daily? A personal chef to prepare all your meals?”

You pretended to consider his offer, tapping your chin thoughtfully. “Hmm, those are all tempting…but I’m not sure. I mean, who’s going to teach Elrond about the wonders of modern technology if I’m not around?”

He laughed again, a deep, rumbling sound that made your heart flutter. “You make a good point. I’m not sure he’s ready to tackle the mysteries of the ‘microwave’ on his own.”

“I don’t think he’s even ready for to learn about the internet or the blender. However, he did take learning the TV, fairly,” you laughed.

“When you do, inform me for I would be interested in witnessing his utter confusion,” he replied with equal merriment.

You grinned, pleased with your little victory, but before you could bask in it for too long, Gil-galad leaned in once more, his expression suddenly serious. “But in all seriousness,” he said, his voice gentle, “I want you to know that wherever you are, that’s where I want to be. Whether it’s in Rivendell, here in my palace, or anywhere else…as long as we’re together, I’ll be happy.”

The sincerity in his words caught you off guard, and for a moment, you were at a loss for what to say. You had always known that he cared for you deeply, but hearing it spoken aloud, in such a simple, heartfelt way, made your chest tighten with emotion.

After a beat, you managed a smile, though it was softer now, more vulnerable. “I feel the same way,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. “And as much as I joke about it…I know that wherever you are, I’ll always feel at home.”

His hand tightened around yours, his thumb brushing softly against your skin. “Then that’s all I need,” he said quietly.

The moment stretched out between you, filled with a warmth and understanding that words couldn’t fully capture. It was in the way he looked at you, the way his hand fit perfectly around yours, the way the world seemed to fall away when you were together. Here, in that garden, under the stars of a world you never expected to call home, you found something you never knew you were searching for.

But even as you basked in the comfort of the moment, a flicker of mischief returned to your eyes. “But just so you know,” you added with a grin, “if you ever try to get me to wear one of those elaborate court attires, we might have a problem.”

Launching into another round of laughter, the sound echoing in the stillness of the night, he shook his head. “Noted,” he said, his eyes shining with affection. “I wouldn’t dream of it. But I have to say, I think you’d look stunning.”

You wrinkled your nose playfully. “Flattery will get you nowhere, Your Majesty. I prefer my sweatpants and t-shirts, thank you very much.”

He smiled, leaning in to press a soft kiss to your temple. “And that’s exactly how I like you,” he murmured, his voice filled with a warmth that made your heart grown warmer.

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[stevieschrodinger]

Part One Two

“I’m really sorry,” Steve is saying before Eddie has the door fully open, but it makes Eddie smile. It feels like Steve has started saying ‘I’m sorry,’ instead of ‘hello’ as a matter of course.

It’s Sunday afternoon though, and Eddie isn’t cooking anything and Steve isn’t holding an empty plate, so Eddie has no clue what Steve could be sorry for this time.

“Could you come and help me with something? It’ll just take two moments.”

“Sure thing,” Eddie agrees easily, slipping on his adventure crocs and following Steve down the hall.

Eddie follows Steve into and then through his apartment into the small bedroom. It’s a two bed apartment, the same as Eddie’s. Eddie uses his spare room to store his guitars. He has a desk in there too; a place to write and paint his miniatures and do guitar maintenance.

It’s a nursery. It’s cute, animal themed. The ceiling is painted powder blue, which drops down onto the walls about a foot before ending in a neatly done scalloped edge. The walls are white, but have cloud shapes printed on them in the same blue. There are random tufts of painted grass popping up from the floor; some with flowers. The rocker and the other furniture, including crib and chest of drawers, are all painted the same green, and the blinds are green jungle, with elephants and big cats and monkeys hiding amongst the leaves. A lot of the soft things are yellow and white, and Eddie has not a fucking clue as to the sex of Steve’s pup, so he asks as much.

Steve smiles, “I don’t know. I didn’t want to know. I like surprises.”

“Huh. Well. I’m always the one shaking the gifts at Christmas, but I do love a surprise too. What did you need?”

“We have the fixings for the mobile there ready, but I clean forgot about it until now, and I’m too big to stretch up there. Didn’t do it at the time because we were moving furniture and I was frightened I’d break it.”

“Okay sure,” Eddie takes the dangly parts of the mobile; cute little moons and stars and sun shapes, and fixes it to the bit already attached to the ceiling. It’s nice, and easy to figure out, but it does hang low so he gets what Steve means.

He also sees why Steve can’t reach; he seems to have suddenly gotten even bigger over the last week, and he's also only been wearing these sort of loose shift dresses, like a blouse, a button up, and a tent had a horrendous love child.

He looks gorgeous though. Eddie always thought pregnancy must be pretty fucking miserable; your body betraying you almost. Needing to pee all the time, unreasonable hormones. Cravings. Morning sickness. Odd shit happening all over the place. Eddie always figured telling pregnant people that they’re ‘glowing’ was just a nice thing people said to make them feel better during what must be a pretty shitty nine months.

Not with Steve though. Steve’s actually glowing. Not like literally glowing but...he’s beautiful, and Eddie suddenly understands what all the fuss is about.

Steve clears his throat. Right. Right okay, Eddie’s creepy staring, “so I was going to make chicken parm again tonight, since I know you like it and it’s been a bit...do you maybe want to get out the apartment and come to another, slightly different, apartment?”

Steve laughs a little, looking at where his hands cradle his bump, before looking back up, cheeks pink, “I think I’d like that.”

Eddie’s laid the table as nice as he can. He snagged a little bunch of daisy looking things out of the garden and shoved them in a mug, just because he remembered Steve’s little daffodil.

He doesn’t own place mats, but he does dig out a table cloth he usually only uses for games night; it’s black, but it’s clean.

Steve settles himself at the table and Eddie goes and gets dinner, he can’t help but notice Steve shift in his seat, wincing.

“You okay?”

Steve hums, “been getting funny back pain, but it’s all normal. Could be anything really, just the weight of the baby, or maybe they are leaning on my sciatic nerve. It’s all fine. Nearly done now.”

Steve takes the first bite of his dinner and hums appreciatively. It makes Eddie warm inside, a little tickle of his brain releasing happy chemicals. Omega is being fed. Omega is safe and happy.

Eddie tells it to fuck off.

“So you’re due soon?” Which feels like he;s stating the obvious, Steve is the size of a tiny moon.

“Tomorrow.”

Eddie makes a noise, startled, then nearly chokes on a string of spaghetti, “excuse me,” he manages to get out, before drinking half his water, Steve looking half concerned and more than a little amused from the other side of the table. “Tomorrow?” Eddie asks weakly.

Steve nods, chewing and swallowing before he answers, “the due date is tomorrow, but it’s the norm really for first pups to go over that, even more normal with male Omega, don’t worry, it’s fine. Although it should be soon, I passed the mucus plug yesterday.”

Eddie nearly chokes again, “the what?” he tries his best not to sound too horrified.

“Oh. Sorry, you probably don't want to hear about the uhm, the kind of gross stuff.”

“No, no, of course it’s fine what is...uhm...that?” And Eddie is fully prepared to regret acquiring this cursed knowledge. He doesn’t even know what it is and he’s already eyeing his spaghetti sauce dubiously. For Steve though...he will learn about the gross stuff.

“Oh, well, when you’re pregnant you get sort of this...lump of...gacky stuff and blood. You don’t have periods when you’re pregnant usually, so it kind of protects everything from infection getting in and stuff like that.”

Eddie takes a deep breath and lets it out, blowing up his bangs, and makes himself eat his dinner normally, “fair enough, but that means you’re...kinda’ close?”

“Well, kinda’. Robin’s spending this morning with her girlfriend and then this afternoon sorting her place out. She’ll be over later, she’s moving in until the pups a week old or so, just make sure I’m okay.”

“She’s...a really good friend, right?” It warms Eddie to know Steve has someone like that in his life.

“Yeah...she’s been there with me through everything. Every appointment, all the classes, everything. Even when I decided I wanted to do this it was...it was right after yet another crappy breakup, you know. She could have said all the sensible things about maybe it's not the right time yet, or that I should...think about it. You know, all that things that would have been totally reasonable for her to say but I'd just...I’d just had enough of waiting and she said she’d support me whatever, and that was that. She’s the best.”

Steve shifts again, putting down his cutlery to try and stretch his back out, hissing with pain, “you sure you’re okay?” Eddie asks, concerned.

“Yeah, fine I think,” Steve bends forward then, gripping the edge of the table and breathing out harshly through his nose, “oh that felt weird.”

Eddie’s up and coming around the table before he can stop himself, hovering his hands, not sure if it’s okay to touch, “Steve?”

“I...oh. Oh gosh I’m so sorry Eddie,” Steve stands cautiously revealing a very clear wet patch on the seat.

“I...that’s fine,” Eddie squeaks out, “are you...is this. Is that…?”

“Yeah, pretty sure my water just broke. And I really wanted that chicken parm,” Steve sighs.

“I can make it again,” Eddie says reflexively, “kind of feel like there’s bigger things to think about what should- like can I help? What do we do?”

Eddie finds himself, very strangely, not panicking. Like, well, maybe a little, but not an uncontrollable amount. Which now he’s here that’s a really nice surprise.

“I’ll just call Robbie, and then will you walk me home?”

And Eddie had maybe had inappropriate thoughts about walking Steve home so he could steal a kiss, not whatever this is. But. Still. “Of course.”

Steve smiles at him with his phone next to his ear, “it’s go time Birdie. Oh, what was I supposed to say? Code red? The eagle is...leaving? I can’t remember, you couldn’t make your mind up about the-” Steve hisses, bending to lean on the table, “yep, yep, see you soon.”

Steve hangs up, telling Eddie she’s on her way as they walk down the hall, dinner abandoned on the table. Steve chooses to stand, walking little laps back and forth along the back of the couch, “is there anything I can do?”

“My bag and car seat are in the nursery, if you don’t mind grabbing those?” Eddie does, putting Steve’s things right by the door, “oh, and a towel, from the bathroom? I don’t want to make a mess in Rob’s car.”

“Sure thing,” Eddie grabs a bath towel from there, and puts it on top, just as Steve’s phone starts ringing.

Eddie can practically feel it when Steve tenses up, his scent turning bitter with distress. Despite what’s going on, Steve’s scent hadn’t changed at all until now, “your car won’t start?”

He sounds terrified.

“I. Yeah. Okay. I can wait I’ll- okay.”

“Okay?” Steve shakes his head, eyes suddenly wet, he looks like he’s biting back tears and Eddie can’t stop himself from going to him.

“She’s got to wait for Chrissy to get to her place and pick her up, then they’ll come over,” Eddie has to make this better. He has to.

“Okay, how about this, me and you go now, I’ll take you, and they can meet you there? That’ll make it faster right?”

“I mean, I’m not...I mean labor can take hours and hours, I’m being silly I just- Eddie I’m a bit scared. She was supposed to be here, it’s a bit too soon.”

They end up holding hands, which Eddie’s kind of thrilled about even if Steve is squeezing the life out of him, “would you feel better if you were waiting at the hospital?”

Steve bites his lip, clearly torn, “are you sure you don’t mind?”

“I’ll get my keys.”

Part Four

[bunny-jpeg]

Hi Bunny,

I've been following your page for awhile and was wondering if I could order some John Price Lemon slices and beer brownies on the house??

I adore your stories and writing style, and you are in fact someone's girlfriends favorite author 😌

Hope your day is wonderful n thank you ♥︎

bakery menu!

want to submit your own order? then hit up the menu! i know i've been horribly lacking at call of duty bakery fics! but with call of duty i'll get an idea in my head that is seperate than the bakery fics. i still deeply love my boys (and esp john price), so i'll try to be more on top of the call of duty fics because so many of you have been so sweet with your prompts <3 (also john price would totally love beer brownies just as a dessert, lol)

lemon slice: "i'm sorry, what was that? i can’t hear you over all that noise you’re making." + beer brownies: "stick your tongue out anymore and you'll look like a dog." + on the house (matcha latte: collars/bondage)

cw: smut/pwp, dom!price, sub!reader, dirty talk/degrading language, age gap (20s/40s), wife!reader, wife/domestic kink, carpet sex, oral sex, pet names (puppy, baby girl)

price liked being the man of the house. while most times your relationship was an equal affair. price admired you like flowers did the sun. he'd never hurt his baby girl, even with the age gap that would make some gawk at. a man in his near fifties with a woman who was just out of university. plus, he made her a stay-at-home wife within three months of dating?

there had to be something else going on. even your parents were a little shocked at the news. but neither of you cared, you were happy. and since your parents wouldn't let you move in with such an older man, the only thing to do was to get married. and now every night price got to be the man of the house and have his lovely girl serve him.

after dinner was served you were on your knees in front of him while he watched television. it was hard for him to focus on the game while your nose was nestled against his dark pubic hair. his grip on the can of beer was tight, any tighter and he'd crush the thing in his palm.

he was so much bigger than you, stronger than you. there was a weight to him that could leave you pinned under him. he was so strong and masculine that you couldn't help yourself but be enthralled by him. you continued to pleasure him orally, but occasionally you made small noises which was accompanied by your thighs rubbing together.

"i'm sorry, what was that? i can’t hear you over all that noise you’re making." he said as he took you by the head of the head and made you look at him. you panted heavily and looked at him with a lustful expression across your features. poor little wifey got too excited.

price chuckled and patted your cheek a roughly, "stick your tongue out anymore and you'll look like a dog." he laughed a little, "maybe i should get the collar out, since you like being my puppy so badly." you whined in response and price pulled away to tuck himself back in his jeans. when he got up, he looked down at you and said, "you stay put, i don't need you getting in trouble, baby girl." then left for the bedroom.

you waited patiently and felt heat curl in your gut. you liked price like this, domineering. when he used his age, height, size against you. when he made you feel small in the best ways. when he returned you could see the green collar in his hands.

it wasn't a neon green, but rather a rich forest green. you swallowed and shifted a little in your spot. when he sat down on the couch with a 'huff' he patted his thigh so you'd climb onto his lap. you did without question and he placed the pretty collar around your neck. then his hand was on your bare thigh, he got to see you naked up close. after dinner you stripped down to give your husband dessert.

"pretty little thing." he said, his voice hot. you squirmed a little at his hands on you. on between your legs and the other supporting your back. he made a vow to love and protect you. even when you panted heavily from his touches.

his calloused fingertips grazed across your wet cunt and he dipped his head against your neck where he laid kisses across the heated skin.

"john."

"i got ya, sweetheart. my little pet." he teased your clit a little and you shuddered. he pulled you closer to him and teased your clit a little more before he said, "get on your hands and knees, beautiful. your mouth isn't enough tonight."

you scurried off, you were naked save for the ankle socks with little bows on them and the pretty green collar. you got onto the carpet and rested your face against your arms with your hips raised. price took one last swig of his beer before he got up and rubbed himself through his jeans. you looked at your husband, coyly, "like this?"

"i've trained you so well." he said as got down on the carpet. while a this age, it was hard to do it on the floor. but, he knew it was either that or up against the couch. the latter would only cause more pain in price's bad knee.

"thank you." you blushed, heat rose in your cheeks as you felt his pointer and middle finger touch your achy cunt again. your back arched. then you heard the clatter of his belt being fully taken off.

"this is how a wife should greet her husband every night. give him a fully belly and you walk away with a full cunt. ya like when i make a mess of her, don't ya?" he watched your back arch from his words. he got his cock out of his jeans and rubbed the slick head up against your pussy, "been missin' her. had to finish myself off in the washroom at work because i was thinkin' about it."

price hated to admit it, but he loved the differences between you two. he kept his pretty wife happy at home, and maybe soon you'd have some company with a pet or a baby. price wasn't getting any younger, about time he used the last of his swimmers for something good.

he pushed his cock into you with ease and watched your tense up. it was really hot. in his honest opinion, you looked beyond beautiful. he was glad he got a ring on you as soon as he did because if anyone else tried to get their hands on you. that would be a problem. you whimpered and clawed into the cream carpet.

you knew your knees were going to be raw by the time your husband was done with you. but, you'd happily accept it regardless.

his pace was steady, on the faster side but every thrust had a force that made your toes curled. you loved your big, hairy husband. you adored how he made you feel, how he could easily move and twist you to his liking. he was dominant and strong, he never wanted his wife to worry.

"that's a good girl, my good little puppy. hearin' your little noises right now." he groaned, "you're a beautiful little thing. you know exactly how to get me goin'. lettin' my fuck you until you see stars." his pace picked up and you gasped into the floor.

"john." you arched your back. your body craved your husband. more than most else. you were never a party girl, but even if you were, your drug of choice would be having your husband, the cervix bully, make you cum time and time again.

it was slightly price's fault why you never went to parties. when he was home from deployment, he wanted to savour every moment with you. hard to go out with friends on a friday when price had you in a full nelson on his bed with his cock hitting just the right places. price didn't need boys sniffing around what was his. not that you'd give them the time of day. he held onto your hips tightly and pushed you further into the carpet as his cock dragged against your softest areas.

he said, "so pretty under me. you take me so well." you could feel your heartbeat in the back of your head as he continued to push up right against you. the feeling was erotic, as were the sounds of your sweet moans, "pretty in your collar. maybe i should've just gotten you a collar instead of a ring. a nice leash as well to make sure that you didn't go runnin' off. be a proper pup for me." he groaned as he continued to fuck you.

his motor mouth made heat wash over you. it was hot in a way that made you want to cry out for more. poor mrs. price, must be such a shame to get fucked into a state of bliss by your domineering, stronger husband.

it wasn't long before you could feel the sparks in your brain as you panted heavily against the carpet. your knees were rubbed raw as were your forearms. thankfully not carpet burn on your face (this time). you panted heavily before you let out a sweet noise, your attempt to tell your lover you were cumming. your cunt tightened around his cock, which only spurred your husband to move faster.

"that's it, that's my baby girl." he groaned as he rammed his cock as fast as he could. he could hear your soft, post-orgasm moans. your back arched a little more before they dropped. which meant price had to hold onto them to get at the right angle of your pussy, "my good little wife."

a few more heavy thrusts and price finished inside of you. trusting you to keep the boys safe.he gripped onto your hips and really pushed into you as he tensed up. he then relaxed and felt his heart hammering in his chest as he slowly pulled out.

a string of cum connected his cock to your pussy. really a match made in heavy. he licked his lips before he slowly got up with a bit of help from the coffee table. he wasn't the spry young man that he used to be. but you loved that about him, your burly old man.

not that you'd say that to him.

your hips dropped as you laid on the floor for a moment. achy and feeling euphoric at the same time. it was cute in price's eyes, after he got his cock back into his jeans once more. he picked up his wife and held you in his arms. he kissed your heated cheeks while you wrapped a leg around his waist for support.

"i got ya, baby girl. now let's get the wife to bed before i get hungry again." he knew you were on another planet right now. you held onto your husband tightly until he tucked you naked into bed, with the covers pulled up to your chin.

"what about the dinner dishes?" you asked.

price patted your cheek, "don't worry about them, beautiful. i can handle them." then let you rest with the familiar collar around your throat. <3

[mywritersmind]

AT YOUR EX’S WEDDING - LN4

summary : Getting invited to your ex’s wedding isn’t ideal. Going with a douchebag from your highschool is even worse. But meeting a very attractive man in the deep of a garden? That might just make it all worth it.

listen up : suggestive comments! alcohol! wrote this forever ago and never finished but suddenly got motivated so here ya go! no part 2!!

words : 2621

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I wasted the prettiest dress I own for my ex’s wedding and a guy who’s staring at my tits. “You look upset…” His grubby little hands rub my arms, “We can leave.”

I eye the guy, blonde and pale. I shake my head and down my champagne, “I’d bet you would love that…”

I don’t look back as I walk away, just grab another glass of champagne and walk out into fresh air. My heels are hurting my feet and the setting sun is blinding me.

As soon as I get into the garden though, I feel like I can finally breathe. I can’t lie, this place is beautiful. The sky is pink and blue, the gardens are green and I can’t see them ending anytime soon.

I walk slowly, letting the cool air wash over me. I’ve got to hand it to him, his dream really did come true. He used to talk to me about a picture perfect wedding, big and white. Something that showed the value of his marriage.

We disagreed a lot after that.

I sigh and sip my drink, turning a corner to see a huge fountain. It’s surrounded by flowers, an array of colors that compliment the bright green and setting sun.

I walk slowly around it, listening to the water and faint music from the wedding.

I stop when I see someone sitting on the grass, his head leaning back on the stone of the fountain. I can’t see his whole face, just his side profile.

He’s got dark hair, curly and cut into a messy mullet. He’s wearing a suit, some buttons undone and his tie loose around his neck. In his hand lies a bottle of champagne and when he brings it to his lips, his jaw goes sharp.

I take another step and he clearly hears me because his head cocks towards me quickly. “Sorry.” I mumble as he stares blankly at me.

“Uh…” He stands quickly, looking disheveled and surprisingly attractive, “Don’t worry.” My gaze goes to the bottle in his hand and when his eyes follow, he laughs a bit, “Want me to top you off?” He eyes my own empty glass. He has an accent and I don’t know why it catches me so off guard. Maybe because he got instantly hotter?

I hesitantly smile, he’s oddly welcoming and when I step forward, he pours the sparkling drink into my glass, “Thank you. I did not want to go back in there just for a drink.” I joke but the expression on his face makes me nervous, “Shit, you’re not one of the groomsmen are you?”

He shakes his head, clearly finding this funny as a smile tugs at his lips, “No, Lucky for you, I'm just a plus one.” I nod slowly as he plops himself back down, sitting on the fountain's edge this time. He looks up at me, holding out his hand, “I’m Lando.”

Something about him feels familiar. His grip is strong and his ring makes a noise against mine. “Y/n.” I sit down next to him, sipping my drink and breathing out.

“Why are you so adamant on not going back in there, Y/n?” He says my name softly and with his accent it makes me want to melt.

I can’t help but laugh, “My ex is the groom, My date has tried to kiss me four times, and the groom's mother is drunk and won’t stop asking me why I broke up with him.”

He lets out a big laugh, “Fuck. Those are great reasons to not go back.” Shaking his head, he takes another swing of the champagne, coughing a bit.

“Why are you hiding out here?” I ask, pushing my hair behind my shoulder.

“My date knows the bride but has left me for a groomsman.” He shrugs, “Not too upset though, just wanted something to do tonight.”

“Very interesting. Normal people would go out and see a movie for entertainment, not go to the wedding of someone you don’t know.”

“Well, I've met you so it worked out for the best.” He gives me a little glance and I notice his eyes. The sun is almost down but the light still shines in them, green and a bit brown.

I shake my head, “You don’t even know me.”

He scrunches his nose, keeping eye contact, “Yet my nights looking up.”

I take the bottle out of his hand because my glass is empty, bringing it to my lips and letting the liquid into my mouth. “Something about you is familiar.”

He raises a brow, taking the bottle back. “Oh?”

I would have to remember him, he’s too pretty for me to forget. “I can’t figure out what. Maybe you just have one of those faces. But then again I think I would remember you.”

He laughs, “Well clearly not because you recognize me from somewhere.” I frown, looking at his face intently, “Come on… think about it.”

So he must know me then. Otherwise, where else would I know him from? “I definitely haven’t met you, the accent alone would stick. So what is it then? Do we have mutals on instagram?”

Lando just smiles softly, “I’ve never met you. I can say that for sure.”

“So what is it? God don’t tell me you’re a model-”

“You think I'm hot enough to be a model? I’m flattered.” I roll my eyes but secretly I bite back a smile.

“You’ve definitely got the attitude of a model. Are you famous?” A slight change in his expression gives it away. “You are! What do you do? Is it embarrassing that I don’t know you?”

Lando shakes his head, “Unless you know the sport.” So he’s an athlete. His build sort of gave that away, even under the suit I can tell. But he’s not very tall and I honestly hate sports so I don’t think I'm going to get this one.

I sigh, leaning back on my hands, “I give up.”

Lando laughs again, the type of sound that makes you feel accomplished because you made it happen, “Maybe i’ll tell you later.”

“Mysterious.” I look him up and down, “That’s hot.”

He gives me a funny look, like he’s trying to figure me out, “I like you.”

I laugh a bit, looking around at the now dark gardens, the moonlight shining and matching with fairy lights around us, “Probably because you still don’t know me.”

“Fine then, Y/n.” His eyes sparkle as they land on me again, scooting closer to me. “Tell me about yourself.”

“That’ll be easy, I love talking about myself. What do you want to know?”

“Why did you and your ex break up?”

“Getting right into it I see…” I take another sip, “I broke up with him because he was obsessed with our future, not even in a cute way like genuinely wanted me to drop out of school. We dated in college after being friends for all of highschool.”

“So… why were you invited? I mean, no offense, but I wouldn’t invite my ex to my wedding.”

“Who knows? I was drunk when I replied to the invite and clearly did not think it through. My ex is nice though, it’s not like I'm getting champagne drunk because I'm sad, I'm happy for him.” I drink more from the bottle.

“Where did you go to college?”

“Charleston. How about you?”

“I didn’t go, I barely finished mandatory school.” I pull my heels off as he says, “I’ve never been to Charleston, I heard it’s pretty.”

“Very.” A chill washes over me as the night seems to rest over us, “How do you know your date for tonight?”

He scratches the back of his neck, looking sheepish, “Sort of a one time thing…” Hookup. Got it. “But she was talking about how she didn’t have a date and how it would be sad so I just said I could go. Got a bit awkward when she paraded me around just to ditch me.”

“Well it all turned out well didn’t it? Now that we’re here.” His eyes are so soft and endearing as he listens to me speak.

“Why do you keep swerving your dates kiss attempts? Bad breath?” I laugh and bury my face in my hands.

“God it’s so stupid. I knew him in highschool and he always wanted to hook up with me so I knew he’d say yes… But he’s a total tool!”

Lando thinks this is quite hilarious, “Well then,” He holds up the bottle, “To our shitty dates and weird ass night.”

He pours some into my mouth, misses a bit and swears before holding my jaw and pouring more in as I’m about to start choking on my laugh and champagne.

“Fuck.” He giggles as he tries to wipe my mouth but ends up just rubbing his hand over my face, “Sorry!” He drinks as I swallow and let out a much needed laugh.

“I should handle champagne better at this point.” I raise a brow at Lando’s words and it reminds me that I truly know nothing about him.

“Can I try to guess what you play?” A slow smirk tugs at his lips, turning to me and nodding.

“Go ahead, love.” I pretend I don’t hear the nickname and try to think.

“Well it’s not football.” I screw up my face and sit criss cross to look at him better, “Tennis?” He shakes his head.

“What’s your favorite color?” I guess it’s a sport for a question then.

“Green.” Looking into his eyes and saying that feels oddly intimate. “Volleyball?”

He makes a face, “No. Favorite hobby?”

“Reading.” I shiver a bit at the cool air, “Does it involve a ball?”

I think he’s going to say yes but when he shakes his head, I frown. “Skateboarding?”

“Nope. What do you like to read?”

“Romance and mystery. Is it swimming?” That could make sense, he’s fit enough but not exactly slim.

“No. Have you ever dyed your hair?” I laugh at the question because it’s so out of the blue.

“When I was really young I had blue and pink highlights.” His eyebrows raise at this, “Oh shut up it was a great phase!”

“I’m sure it was. And I can't judge because I had a buzz once.” I cover my mouth at his words. I can not imagine that. His hair is like the cherry on top.

“I will be needing photos of that later… My last guess is gymnastics!”

“Still no.” He smiles as I groan and take another drink of champagne, “I drive.”

I sit up straighter and I'm dead serious when I say, “Monster trucks?”

He laughs out loud again, “Formula 1 cars.” My jaw actually drops at this.

“I would never have guessed! I mean, I don’t know a lot about Formula 1 anyways… but doesn’t that mean you’re like really rich?” He looks a bit shy at this which means i’m 100% right.

“And humble.” I nod.

“You really didn't know?”

“Nope. My family is into soccer and soccer only, so I never really cared about anything else.”

“I like that.”

“You like that I know nothing about your job?”

“Absolutely. I hate when people know it… Especially women.”

“Oh? So I'm a ‘woman’ to you now?”

A little smile settles on his face while he looks anywhere around the garden but me, “I think I'm a good judge of character. And I like yours.”

I’ve never had a guy express his interest in me within an hour of meeting, especially one that I found in a garden like a fucking fairy.

“Does that usually work on women?” I decide to tease him a bit.

“Not sure, I’ve never tried it. Is it working on you?” I suddenly have the feeling that he’s being serious. I can tell he’s a flirt, that’s obvious enough with who he’s here with.

Yet I just stand up and take the bottle with me, walking away from him. He follows, a rustling of his clothes and the sudden warmth of his jacket over my shoulders surprises me.

I don’t thank him, I just watch him walk quietly next to me, his eyes scanning the night sky. “What’s your last name?”

“Trying to figure out how you’ll sound with it?” I roll my eyes, “Norris. Don't lie though, Y/n Norris sounds good.”

“You’re ridiculous.”

“I get that a lot.” We continue walking, my feet feeling the grass as I realize Lando’s holding my heels. I had left them with the intent to go back, but he just took them.

I turn to him, “So, Lando Norris.” I start walking backward, watching the way his eyes trail up and down my body. “You’ve got a good name.”

He nods, slowly walking with me, “Thank you, love.” His shirt is well fitted, his arms pressing against it and the sleeves rolled halfway up.

His eyes get wide as I'm checking him out, causing me to turn to see what he’s looking at. My jaw drops at the sight. “That’s-”

“My date!” we say in unison. I whip my head to him as he raises his brow. The two are in the midst of pulling off each other's clothes while their lips stay attached.

I slap my hand over my mouth as they turn to us. His date is very pretty and her lipstick is smeared over her mouth. My date doesn’t look embarrassed at all, just annoyed we interrupted.

“You two carry on.” I hear Lando say as he grabs my hand and pulls me out of there. We start running then, laughing and out of breath.

“I need to bleach my eyes!” I scream as Lando slows, his breathing labored.

“I think his hand was up her dress!” He looks scarred for life.

“Oh my god!” I stop, “Our dates!” I’m practically bent over laughing, “Lando, Our dates!”

“Fuck this weird ass day!” His hand tightens over mine, reminding me that he’s holding onto me still. “I need something stronger than champagne. Come back to my hotel?”

I raise a brow, teasing him, “Why Norris, I've just met you.”

His smile is slow and sexy, “I’ll save you from a one night stand and raise you whiskey and netflix. I promise I'll keep my hands to myself.”

“I weirdly have trust in you.”

He wraps his arm around me, our hands still attached as we leave the grassy area, “It’s not weird. We’re just two friends who happen to be very pretty and a tad bit drunk at an ex and a random wedding.”

Lando and I spent the night laughing over drinks, room service, and how to lose a guy in ten days. He didn’t touch me besides his arm comforting me as I fell asleep next to him, and even shook his head when I joked about it being a one night thing.

His promise was never broken… more like expired and loopholed by me. I kissed him in a bookstore and he gave me a new favorite version of his smile. Soft and romantic with his eyes focused on me and his hand in mine, “And to think… it all started at your ex’s wedding.”

He sighed as we walked into the elevator, I elbowed him, “Lando, that was yesterday.” His hands went to his pockets but not before slipping his arm around mine so we’re intertwined. I looked up to see him biting back a shit eating grin as if we’ve been married for years.

I just shake my head and stare at the silver doors in front of us. Yet still, I couldn’t help but smile.

[becca-e-barnes]

"Slippery When Wet."

Taking a quick jump back to the 'Shit He Said' series because I haven't given it nearly enough time.

I think I'd almost forgotten how it feels to be with someone who lets you feel like you're their entire focus. God, it's nice.

It's nice to spend time with someone who makes you feel so thrilled to be yourself. It's nice to want someone so intensely you can't wait to touch them again. Yeah, it's been nice 😵‍💫

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: Unprotected sex, cream pie, oral sex (f receiving), thigh fucking, alcohol mention

Summary: You and Bucky spend some time relaxing together

Minors, do not interact

"These reusable plastic cups might have to do." You're standing on your tiptoes, reaching into the cupboard in the Airbnb kitchen, searching for the one thing you hadn't thought to bring with you.

"Those would be perfect." You hear in response from the bedroom just down the hall. "The rules said 'No glass in the hot tub'."

A sensible rule and one you're more than content to abide by.

One rule of few.

"You can open the champagne bottle. I don't need to go home with a horrible injury." You tease, lifting two of the plastic cups and making your way outside. Sandals of some description would have been smart but it's only a few steps out to the tub.

The cover has already been removed, the water is still and it's hard not to pause for a second and admire the view. Rolling green hills, a lake in the distance, flowers all around the patio and the sun beginning to set, bringing a very slight chill to the evening air.

There couldn't be a more perfect evening to climb into a hot tub and enjoy the scenery.

So that's exactly what you do.

The water is warm as you sink down in, settling yourself into one of the grooves. The level comes to just above your shoulders, lapping against the bottom of your chin as you adjust and get comfortable, looking over the edge at your surroundings.

"We'd need be careful getting out. The steps are slippery when wet." Bucky doesn't take long to join you, reading from the sign on the fencing that was strategically placed to give you some privacy.

Who knew he's so into rules.

Settling beside him feels natural. It's familiar and comfortable and reassuring in a way you didn't know you needed.

He couldn't possibly know how you've craved him since you saw him last. You'll do everything you can to make him feel it though.

He pours champagne into the two little plastic cups, handing one to you before looking for the button that starts the bubbles.

You clink the cups together, taking a sip from your respective glasses while the jets burst to life around you both.

"It's such a mild evening." You hum, cuddling in against his side, enjoying the chaste kiss he leaves on the top of your head.

"It is." He agrees, tilting your chin up so your lips meet his.

They're warm and soft and plump and taste faintly of champagne and there's nothing else you'd rather do in that moment than kiss this man more.

You break away quickly though, choosing instead to spend the time catching up. You talk about work and how things have changed since you last met up. You talk about your plans, your hopes and your fears. He gives you perspectives you hadn't considered and advice you fully intend to take, all while curled up in the bubbling tub.

The champagne slowly disappears. The glasses are filled up again and then that disappears too. You laugh together. You tease each other. You enjoy the company of someone you'd like to see a whole lot more of but understandably can't.

He gives you a reasoned perspective on the things that bother you. Somehow, you don't feel silly telling him about the little things that upset you recently or the worries you have. He's understanding and considerate and so damn fun to be around.

You pepper kisses across his broad shoulders, absentmindedly play with the little short curls of hair on his chest and he lets you feel so entirely worshipped.

He holds you in a way that makes you feel entirely wanted; like all of you is exactly the way it's meant to be and there's nothing he'd dream of changing. It's so incredibly attractive to feel so wholly appreciated. You want him in the very same way and every touch reminds you of that.

All too soon, the sun sets over the hills. The bottle is empty and the water starts to get to a temperature that's just a little cooler than comfortable.

You could sit here with him forever and never run out of things to talk about. That said, your fingertips are beyond wrinkled by the water and it's probably time to call it a night.

Somewhere in those last 30 or so minutes, you realised you need him again. The moment you'd arrived here earlier, the curtains had been pulled and you'd taken the opportunity to relieve some stress before dinner but it's not enough.

"Can I show you what else is slippery when wet?" You tease, pressing your lips to his with an urgency that surprises you.

He seems entirely into that idea, pulling your body impossibly close, his hand gliding up the inside of your thigh to rub against the thin material of your bikini.

Squirming in his lap is becoming a bit of a theme.

Before you get too far, you carefully step out of the hot tub and scamper inside, letting him close up the tub while you rinse off the pool water in the shower very quickly.

The anticipation gets to you, much like it always does. It only ever adds to the fun.

By the time he's also rinsed and dried off, you're perched on the edge of the bed, enjoying the feeling of your own fingertip trailing lazily over your clit. Your legs are spread wide, giving him full view of your glistening, soaked sex.

"I've been dreaming of this." He mumbles, kneeling at the edge of the bed and replacing your fingertip with his tongue.

Fuck, he's so good at that. His tongue flicks and thrashes, his neck working overtime to deliver you a sensation that not comparable to anything else you've ever experienced. He groans as he licks your body, enjoying the taste of your arousal and the slick wetness coating his chin to his nose.

You could let him do that forever and never grow tired of it. Your fingers have woven through his hair at some point and your thighs have clamped tight around his ears.

While you don't want to, his neck will thank you for suggesting a change.

You tug him up, eager to taste your own arousal on his lips and tongue and he doesn't disappoint. His tongue glides against yours, his wet chin rubbing against you and the intensity leaves you totally breathless.

You're almost frantic in how you need him now. "Please. I want you." You practically whine, grasping his firming length and giving him a few slow strokes until he's totally ready.

"Your hand always feels better than my own." He half laughs, half gasps, grinding his hips in time with the movements of your hand.

It's needy and desperate from both of you, much like it was earlier with the tip of his dick nudging your clit perfectly while he fucked your thighs.

His length slides against your eager core, massaging your arousal against his dick. It feels almost luxurious to be able to take your time with him. There's no rush, other than that dictated by your own need.

Before long, he's sinking into your body with a low groan, enjoying the way he feels your heat engulfing his shaft.

"You're so fucking wet." He moans, bottoming out and kissing your shoulders.

You know you are and it's borderline embarrassing how quickly he was able to get you like that.

"Such a pretty angel." He pulls back, giving himself a chance to sink into you again and it steals the breath from both of you. "You feel like Heaven. You're so hot around my cock."

He's bound to still be sensitive from the round earlier that day but it doesn't stop him.

"God, you're going to earn every drop of cum I give you. I'm going to pump you so full." He's so delightfully filthy and you love hearing him talk to you like that.

Your hand weaves its way between your bodies, finding your throbbing, neglected clit and rubbing it in rough circles.

"You want to cum inside me this time?" You love how you never really know what to expect with him. He he pulled out earlier in the day, choosing to glaze your chest and tummy with an impressive load instead.

"I'd cum inside you every time if you didn't look so pretty covered in it." His thrusts are faster now, meeting the rhythm your fingers have dictated you need.

"I want you to cum inside me this time. Fill me until I'm dripping." The image in your head as you're saying it is enough to make you quiver. You're chasing your high far faster than you thought you'd be but you're sure he's not far behind you. The notion of his cum filling you is a love that you both share.

"Want to taste it inside you when I'm done. Let it leak out of you and then press it back in with my tongue."

That's all it takes. One filthy little fantasy and you're trembling, cumming so hard you see stars. You work yourself through your high, riding it out on his cock and you're vaguely aware that you've milked his release from him too. You feel him spilling inside you, blowing another huge load into your eager body with a low moan and a few curses.

When you're both spent, he collapses onto the bed beside you, pulling you close to him for a cuddle.

"Give me a few seconds. Then I'll get to work." He hums, breathlessly.

[birrdies]

'SUNBLEACHED' (1.6k words) Our collaboration piece for the Flowers in the Desert zine! writing by me (birrdies) art by @fishbloc

Sunflowers. 

Over the flat, endless plain they stretch as far as Scar can see. Roots and leaves branch like veins and arteries through the soil on the verge of something alive. The sunflowers face the limitless blue above— no beginning or end— the stretch so vast that time itself feels as inconsequential as a marble rolling around in his hand. 

Scar doesn’t understand it.

One second his feet had been on the stone where Pearl had fallen, where lightning had struck with finality, and the next he’s up to his waist in sunflowers. Each golden petal stands on edge. As if they know something he doesn’t. He reaches out to touch one of these petals; they tickle the pads of his fingers. Shy, pretty things. 

It’s quiet here and Scar isn’t sure if it’s a silence he finds comforting or damning. He thinks he should be afraid, but how can he be? It’s warm here. The earth smells of freshly fallen rain beneath his feet, despite not a single cloud in the sky above. The fresh, dewey scent that soothes him, almost convinces him that this is a good place to be. 

“You’re here,” a voice says behind him.

There, enveloped by the countless sunflowers, is Grian. His hair is pale, sunbleached, and his cheeks are pink. Everything about him has been touched by the light in some way, down to the faded red poncho draping his shoulders and the speckling of freckles across his nose bridge. 

He’s drowning in it— this light. He’s made of it. And Scar’s eyes fall to find the sunflowers around him withering and decaying quickly. The yellow petals curl and desiccate into gray husks, breaking off their buds and fluttering to the ground. They’re dying. Not by lack of sunlight, Scar realizes, but by an excess of it. Burnt to a crisp. 

And like the sun, his skin blisters. The skin of his hands and the redness slathering them have no beginning or end. Gashes and swelling bruises and split knuckles. The blood never clots, a constant red drip falling from the fingers held limp at his sides. A quiet drip, drip, drip the only sound across the windless field. Not even so much as the sound of a breath. Just that blood.  “Grian,” Scar says. “I’m here.”

He doesn’t know why. He doesn’t know why Grian’s here either. But he’s grateful he is. Their nightmare— or, had it been a dream?— ended long ago, the desert gone and buried several games past. The Grian in front of him now isn’t the Grian he’d fought with moments ago. This Grian was younger. More afraid. More capable of burning. 

“Where… where is here, exactly?” Scar asks.

Grian curls those bleeding fingers into the nearest living sunflower. As if he’s unsure whether he wants to caress it or yank it from the ground, roots and all. His face is twisted, it’s always twisted when Scar’s around. But he yearns for the days when that twist had been of wicked delight, the way green-lit eyes exploded into starbursts at the sight of their mutual destruction. 

“You won,” Grian says simply, taking a sunflower by the stem and starting to pluck the petals. One by one. “Congratulations.”

Scar falters. A victory. A bolt of lightning striking the earth, the loud thud of a gavel. It’s over Scar, he hears, a constant echo in the back of his mind. You won. Grian’s anger burns. A second petal falls.  “You’re upset.” Scar will do anything to make it stop, to untie the knot tied between Grian’s eyebrows, to take those cracked, bleeding hands in his own and mend them until the skin is whole again. To take away the pain, the regret, the guilt. 

Grian never left the desert, no matter how much he wanted to. And Scar could never go back. No matter how often he wished he could.

“This is your dream, Scar.” Grian turns his face away. “It’s been a long time coming— a victory.”

“I don’t feel like I’ve won anything,” Scar says honestly. A victory implies the heavy yet welcome weight of a crown, the fleeting yet intoxicating rush of excitement. But all Scar feels is the emptiness in his chest, the air around his crownless head. Blood on his hands that he can’t see, but knows is there all the same. The same way it stains Grian’s. 

Grian plucks a third petal. He barks a cruel laugh, but it sounds more like he’s about to cry. “How do you think I felt?”  Scar frowns. “It’s still about the desert? After all this time?” 

Grian plucks another petal. Four. It flutters to the ground to join the others, yellow petals torn and crumpled, slowly turning gray. The edge of his mouth tugs into a knife-like smile.

“I’m sorry,” he says. It’s all he can manage, though he doesn’t mean it. Nothing can make him regret that day, knelt in a cool pond with the weight of a diamond blade against the junction of his neck. The hand he used to hold onto it, digging it into his own skin— asking for it. “You deserved to win.”

“I deserved this? To be alone?” Grian throws his arms out to the sides, to the endless curvature of sunflowers drowning the both of them. Nothing to shield them from the unrelenting sun above. “Because that’s what winning means. You’re alone, Scar.” 

Scar’s heart plummets into his stomach. “You’re here.” 

“Am I?” A fifth petal. “Or do you just want me to be?” 

Scar stares at Grian, uncaring if the scalding brightness gives him sunspots, or if the pain of looking at the spoils of his own choices burns him up from the inside. You won, Scar, his voice echoes again and again in Scar’s mind, a scratched record. His fists curl up at his sides, into the black cloak sewn with lilacs and poppies along the hem. 

Is that what this is? A cruel illusion to make him realize what it truly means to be the man at the edge of the world, to be the last man standing? If this is victory— Scar grits his teeth and twists his fists into his cloak— then he doesn’t want it. He’s never wanted it. It was never about winning, it was about— 

“About what, exactly?” Grian snaps, plucking the through straight from his mind just as he does with a sixth petal. “Is it about this? Sunflowers? You can’t hide behind them forever. Not here. Not from me. Not from yourself.” 

“Stop it.”

Grian’s in front of him now, bloodied hands shoving him by his shoulders. Scar stumbles back and barely keeps himself upright. This isn’t right. This isn’t Grian— not the one he knows, not the one he needs. 

“Why aren’t you angry, Scar?” Another push. “After everything that’s happened to you. All the people that have betrayed you. All the times I left you behind.”

Scar grapples for self control, to reign in the flash of anger burning the back of his throat. “What are you trying to prove?” 

“Stop lying. For once in your life, look me in the eye and tell me you’re angry.” Grian yanks a sunflower from the ground and shoves it, decaying leaves and all, against Scar’s chest. “Tell me these are just a sham.” 

It’s on the tip of his tongue: the truth. A terrifying, bitter thing that burns crawling up the back of his throat. Because it betrays everything he’s worked so hard to build, the masks he’s sported like second skins, the confidence which he flaunts like a shield. Without it, what does he have left? He’s stripped clean, Grier’s hands against his chest burning like sweltering charcoal. Sunflower petals slip between his fingers. 

He opens his mouth to let it up, to tell the truth, and then—

The sky above him changes. Only slightly. If he had blinked he would’ve missed it. But clear as day he sees them overhead: clouds. Slowly rolling across a blue sky.  And he’s on his back, blinking spots from his eyes as breath rushes into his lungs. The air tastes fresh, crisp, like seawater. Eyes fluttering, he tries to remember what he’d just been about to say.  “Scar?” 

Eclipsing the sun beating down on him overhead, a head peers down at him. Dark, wide eyes, a slanted mouth. A sporting of freckles across dusty cheeks. 

Something knotted unravels in Scar’s chest. “Grian.” Grian’s lips wobble into an uneasy smile. He wipes sweat from his brow, and Scar catches a glimpse of his hands: dirty, packed with mud, but bloodless. “Whatcha doing down there, pal?”  Scar’s arms lie limp at his sides. He’s not sure he could move even if he tried. If he wanted to. Something about this peace is fragile, uncertain. As if simply breathing the wrong way will make the world shatter in two and send him back to that place. One wrong move and he’ll be alone again. 

“Dunno,” Scar says breathlessly. Stalks of wheat tickle his arms as the wind kicks up, ghosting over his body. A sunflower stands over him, waving in the breeze. “Appreciating the view. Clouds. They’re nice.”

“Come on.” A hand reaches out to him. “Stop trampling my wheat.” Scar has to stare at it to remember that it’s not covered in blood. That it’s just dirt from a long day tending to wheat and sunflowers. That the Grian smiling down at him is the real one. Not the one made to torment him. 

Scar reaches for that hand, allowing their palms to slot together. Grian’s skin is callused and warm. He’s there. He’s real. Scar isn’t alone.

[premiumbitch]

THINGS TO MANIFEST - FLORA FROM WINX THEMED PACK ! ⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡

hi luvs! I decided I'd make this flora from winx themed pack for the lovely person who requested it (@cinnamoncilla) and for people who want to manifest themselves to be a completely different person, someone they will feel confident to be! also for the amazing shifters who can script this about themselves! enjoy :)

⋆⛧┈┈┈┈﹤୨♡୧﹥ ┈┈┈┈⛧⋆

BEAUTY ♡ //

Your face is soft and ethereal, like the petals of a freshly bloomed rose—delicate, warm, and glowing with a natural radiance.

Your eyes are deep pools of warmth and kindness, reflecting the golden light of the sun, sparkling like morning dew resting on vibrant green leaves.

Your lips are full and petal-pink, effortlessly curved into a gentle, dreamy smile that makes others feel safe and cherished.

Your skin is kissed by nature itself, always smooth, radiant, and glowing with a healthy, sunlit warmth—never too harsh, but as if you’ve been wrapped in the embrace of a soft summer breeze.

Your hair flows like enchanted vines, cascading down your back in silky waves, always fragrant with hints of florals, honey, and fresh rain.

Your cheeks are dusted with a soft, natural flush, as if the gentle wind has whispered a secret against them, leaving them rosy and luminous.

Your nails are always perfectly manicured but never harsh—painted in soft, floral hues, adorned with dainty patterns of vines, butterflies, or shimmering sparkles that reflect the light.

Your hands are delicate, yet strong—built for nurturing, healing, and creating beauty in the world. Whether planting flowers, painting on a canvas, or tending to a wounded heart, they always move with grace and care.

Your jewelry is elegant, subtle, and nature-inspired, with golden vines, dainty leaf charms, or gemstones that shimmer like the moonlit sky.

Your scent is mesmerizing and gentle, reminiscent of blooming jasmine, warm vanilla, and a hint of rain-soaked earth—a scent that lingers long after you’ve left the room, like a dream too beautiful to forget.

Your presence is that of a woodland nymph, captivating and otherworldly, as if you belong to a realm untouched by time, where magic flows as freely as the wind.

Your elegance is effortless, like a butterfly floating through a garden, light on your feet and graceful in every movement.

Your beauty is not just physical—it radiates from your soul, making everything you do seem enchanting and poetic.

Your eyes hold galaxies of kindness and ancient wisdom, as if they have witnessed every sunrise and sunset since the beginning of time.

You don’t need to try to be beautiful—you just are, like a flower that blooms because it was meant to, no validation needed.

AURA ♡ //

Your aura is warm, nurturing, and full of light, like golden rays filtering through the leaves of an ancient tree.

People feel an instant sense of peace around you, as if they’ve stepped into a sacred garden where all worries melt away.

You carry the energy of a soft spring morning, fresh, rejuvenating, and full of gentle hope.

Your presence is healing, like warm honey poured over an aching soul, soothing and comforting in ways words cannot describe.

You move like the wind—graceful, flowing, and untamed, yet never overwhelming or harsh.

Animals are drawn to you, sensing your pure heart and boundless compassion. Even butterflies seem to linger just a little longer in your presence.

You bring a touch of magic wherever you go, making even the most ordinary moments feel like something out of a fairytale.

Your laughter is soft and melodic, like a stream trickling over smooth stones—gentle, sweet, and endlessly soothing.

Your energy is a mix of wisdom and playfulness, balanced like a perfect ecosystem, thriving in harmony.

People always feel like they can breathe easier when they’re with you, as if the air is fresher, the world is softer, and time moves just a little slower.

You never demand attention, yet the world turns toward you, enchanted by your quiet radiance.

You are deeply in tune with nature, feeling the pulse of the earth, the whispers of the wind, and the secrets carried by the ocean’s waves.

Your presence is like the scent of rain on dry soil—revitalizing, pure, and desperately needed.

You see beauty in everything, even the smallest details that others overlook, and you make them feel cherished.

You glow—not just in appearance, but in spirit, like a firefly illuminating the night with effortless grace.

SMARTS ♡ //

Your intelligence is not just knowledge but deep, intuitive wisdom—you understand things beyond logic, feeling the truth in your heart before it’s ever spoken.

You are a natural healer, whether through words, actions, or just your calming presence.

You see life as a delicate balance between logic and intuition, blending both to make thoughtful and compassionate decisions.

You understand the language of nature—how flowers bloom, how the stars move, how the wind carries stories from faraway lands.

You absorb knowledge like the earth absorbs rain—naturally, deeply, and without resistance.

You love poetry, literature, and philosophy, drawn to words that evoke emotion and beauty.

You are emotionally intelligent, reading people’s feelings like the turning pages of a book.

You are creative beyond measure, always dreaming, painting, writing, or making something beautiful.

You think in metaphors, seeing connections between seemingly unrelated things in ways no one else can.

You are a silent observer, always taking in the world around you with thoughtful curiosity.

Your heart is open, yet your mind is sharp—you know when to give and when to protect your energy.

You are deeply philosophical, often contemplating life’s mysteries and the meaning behind everything.

You have an innate understanding of people, knowing their true nature beyond what they show on the surface.

You are a natural problem solver, finding solutions in ways that others never considered.

You understand that knowledge is not just about learning but about sharing, healing, and growing together.

PERSONALITY ♡ //

You are kind beyond words, the type of person who gives without expecting anything in return.

You love deeply, whether it’s a person, a place, a moment, or a dream—you give your whole heart.

You are patient, never rushing, knowing that everything blooms in its own time.

You see the world through rose-tinted glasses, not because you’re naive, but because you choose to believe in goodness.

You are soft but strong, never letting the world harden you no matter what storms you face.

You are gentle, but you will fight fiercely for the ones you love.

You are deeply loyal, standing by those who need you like an ancient tree protecting its roots.

You are a dreamer, yet grounded in reality—you know how to turn fantasies into something tangible.

You carry a light inside you that never dims, no matter how dark the world gets.

You find joy in the simple things—flowers blooming, the sound of rain, the warmth of a loved one’s voice.

You believe in the magic of love, not just in romance but in every aspect of life.

You make people feel seen, heard, and understood, just by being who you are.

You never try to control—only nurture, allowing people to grow and flourish in their own way.

You are a lover, a poet, a healer, and a guardian of all things good.

You are Flora—the embodiment of love, nature, and the gentle magic that keeps the world beautiful.

hope you guys enjoyed! requests are appreciated! lmk if you want anything! <3