#i wish i were sitting in a river like that. just hanging out on a rock with my lil leggies in. *siiigh*

[heymrspatel]

https://www.instagram.com/p/C-aWeYESouE/?igsh=MXZ6a3Z0cmY4ZG9zMg==

Bear party!

drish! drish hi!!! 🥰🥰🥰 how are you?! i hope you're doing well 💙

would you be shocked to know that i saw this yesterday and sat here giggling and kicking my feet because LOOK AT THEM! they're having the best time! that water looks so nice and their birdy friends are just chilling with them and they're about to have a sweet salmon entree (sorry fishy friends)

thank you for sending this to me! i love it 💙

[harrystylesfan2686]

Pieces Part 2

Pairing: Azriel x Reader.

Summary: You finally confront Azriel about your feelings which ends in huge argument.

A/N: thank you to everyone who read and loved Pieces. I tried my best to make Azriel up to your expectations. I hope you all like this!

Pieces Masterlist

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I stopped making efforts with Azriel.

I stopped talking to him. Stopped waking up with him to wish him goodbye at the door. Stopped asking him about his day at dinner. Even stopped waiting for him to eat. I make our lunch, eat and get out of the house. Walking until I'm sure he's gone again. Come home make dinner, eat and sleep without waiting for him.

I accepted the fact that he doesn't want me anymore.

He still kisses me goodbye though.

So I guess there is still hope but I don't want it.

I open my eyes and glance to Azriel's empty bedside. I rub my eyes, already feeling tired even though I just started my day. I havn't been getting good enough sleep lately, staying up almost every night, rethinking everything over and over again. And when I do get sleep, it's always dreamless. I always feel like I fell alseep just a minute ago. I sit up on my bed to find a note on the bedside.

Dinner at Rhys tonight.

Four plain words in Azriel's handwriting. He didn't even sign it with his name. I sigh and get up from bed. I don't want to face anyone right now. I'm too tired to put on an act of being happy. Well at least I won't have to make food.

My throat feels scratchy. I warm up a little water to relieve the soreness but it doesnt make any difference. I suddenly sneeze, covering my face and freeze after realization finally hits me. I'm sick. I groan.

Can this day get any worse?

-☆-

When we arrived at the river house, I conversed with everyone for a while, catching up on everything after not seeing any of them for so long.

Feyre complemented my dress and commented on how my face looks different. I laughed a little saying that's because she hadn't seen me in so long, hoping my smile and lie seemed real enough for her to not get suspicious.

When I sneezed and coughed again, she figured I was sick and scolded me a little for coming, saying I should've stayed home and rested. I shrugged at that.

When we sat down on the table, Azriel whispered to me,"Why didn't you tell me you weren't feeling well?" To which I had kept looking away and answered,"You didn't ask." He didn't say anything else to me and neither did I to him. In fact I didn't talk to anyone much and only spoke when asked to do so the whole time.

"Why didn't you tell me you were sick?" Azriel questioned when we walk into our house. I hang my coat on the coat stand and remove my shoes, taking my time answering him and finally say,"As I said before, you didn't ask."

"How was I supposed to know? And you didn't even spend much time with me. You went straight to Feyre, the second we entered and didn't talk to me at all the whole night." I could hear irritation in his voice which made me clench my jaw.

I took a deep breath,"I didn't realise you missed me so much considering you were glued to Elain all night." I spit out without looking at him and walk to our bedroom.

"What do you mean by that?" He follows me.

"Nothing." I sigh not wanting to have this argument right now but, of course, he doesn't care about that.

"No, tell me." He frowned.

"You talked to Elian all night so I thought, maybe I shouldn't disturb whatever conversation you must have going on." My lips thin as I look up at him.

"I had no choice but to talk to her because you didn't talk to me and and we were the only two people left alone." He said.

"Alright. But that was tonight. What about that other days and nights you spend with her? You like her. I get it. You don't need to explain yourself." My eyes fill with unwanted tears and I look away from him. I try to get away from him but he grabs my arm to keep me there.

"Yes, I like talking to her, but I would prefer to talk to you more." He says softly. I scoff.

"Don't lie az. Do us both a favor and accept it that you like her company better. I have." I snatch my arm back and try to walk away. He still follows me.

"No. I admit I like her company but no more than yours. You are more important." He stops in front of me.

"I don't believe that." A tear falls down my face. His eyes look into mine with confusion. "I watch you with her. How happy and content you look in her presence. Everyday you come home, speak barely two words to me and go back to her again." I fold my arms on my chest and look down. "You spend the time with her that youre suppose to spend with me. You tell her the things you should tell me. Your like her. More than me."

"That's not true. My love, I like you a lot more than her. You are the most important to me." His hand wips my tears and rests on my cheek. I rip it off me. "I don't believe you." I look at him with anger.

"You tell me Azriel, when was the last time you commented on my cooking? The last time you told how I looked? When was the last time you asked me how I was doing? When was the last time you held me? The last time you truly listened to me?" His expression falls in realisation, as my questions grow. "When was the last time you told you loved me and fucking meant it?!" I breath heavy, looking at his face tilted down, eyes cast down.

"I-," He clears his throat. "I did always meant when I said I loved you."

I turn to the other side. I can't look at him. I cover my eyes and try to focus on settling down my breathing. "I think you should leave." I whisper and turn to him again.

His head snaps to mine. "No! No. No. No. Don't push me away. Please." His voice cracks and a tear falls down his eyes. "Please give me a chance to fix this. Please don't push me away." His hands on either side of me and puts his forehead against mine, eyes looking into mine filled with tears and anguish.

"You pushed me away first." I whisper, gently taking his hands off of me and his face crumbles as more tears fall down. I cry with him.

"I just need time." I watch him nod silently, wiping his face clear with his hands while stepping away from me.

"Okay. I'll be in the house of wind. Please come to me when you're ready. I want to fix this. I don't want to let you go." I nod silently, not trusting my words.

I watch him nod again and go out of the door, leaving me alone in the house we bought together. Leaving me alone for my thoughts and memories to haunt me in the dead of the night. I'll be alright though. I'll take my time to think everything through. I'll heal myself then think about giving azriel a chance to heal us.

I just need time.

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Tags: @cleverzonkwombatsludge @crazylokonugget

[sassenach77yle]

7x12 “Carnal Knowledge”

The haze had thickened into steel-gray clouds, coming purposefully up the river, muttering with thunder. I took a deep, lung-filling whiff of ozone and then another, of his skin. I detected the basic male animal, very appetizing in itself, but he seemed to have acquired a rather unusual—though savory—bouquet in addition: a faint whiff of sausage, the strong bitter scent of cabbage, and . . . yes, mustard, underlaid with something oddly spicy. I sniffed again, repressing the urge to lick him. “You smell like—” “I smell like a large plate of choucroute garnie,” he interrupted, with a slight grimace. “Give me a moment; I’ll have a wash.” He made as though to get up and go toward the river, and I reached out and seized him by the arm. He looked at me for a moment, then drew a deep breath and, reaching slowly out in turn, pulled me against him. I didn’t resist. In fact, my own arms went round him in reflex, and we both sighed in unison, in the sheer relief of embrace. I would have been quite content to sit there forever, breathing the musky, dusty, cabbage-laced smell of him and listening to the thump of his heart under my ear. All the things we’d said—all the things that had happened—hovered in the air around us like the cloud of troubles from Pandora’s box,—but for this one moment, there was nothing but each other. After a bit, his hand moved, smoothing the loose, damp curls behind my ear. He cleared his throat and shifted a little, drawing himself up, and I reluctantly let go of him, though I left my hand on his thigh. “I wish to say something,” he said, in the tone of one making a formal statement before a court. My heart had quieted while he held me; now it fluttered in renewed agitation. “What?” I sounded so apprehensive that he laughed. Only a breath, but he did laugh, and I was able to breathe again. He took my hand firmly and held it, looking into my eyes. “I don’t say that I dinna mind this, because I do. And I don’t say that I’ll no make a fuss about it later, because I likely will. But what I do say is that there is nothing in this world or the next that can take ye from me—or me from you.” He raised one brow. “D’ye disagree?” “Oh, no,” I said fervently. He breathed again, and his shoulders came down a fraction of an inch. “Well, that’s good, because it wouldna do ye any good if ye did. Just the one question,” he said.

“Are ye my wife?”

“Of course I am,” I said, in utter astonishment. “How could I not be?”

His face changed then; he drew a huge breath and took me into his arms. I embraced him, hard, and together we let out a great sigh, settling with it, his head bending over mine, kissing my hair, my face turned into his shoulder, openmouthed at the neck of his open shirt, our knees slowly giving way in mutual relief, so that we knelt in the fresh-turned earth, clinging together, rooted like a tree, leaf-tossed and multi-limbed but sharing one single solid trunk.

The first drops of rain began to fall.

HIS FACE WAS open now and his eyes clear blue and free of trouble—for the moment, at least. “Where is there a bed? I need to be naked with ye.” I was entirely in sympathy with this proposition, but the question took me momentarily aback.[...]

glanced at the river, wondering whether, after all, a nice, sheltering bush—but it was late in the afternoon, cloudy, and the gnats and mosquitoes were hanging in small carnivorous clouds of their own beneath the trees. Jamie stooped suddenly and swept me up in his arms.

“I’ll find a place.”

THERE WAS A wooden thump as he kicked open the door of the new potting shed, and suddenly we were in a light-streaked darkness smelling of sun-warmed boards, earth, water, damp clay, and plants.

“What, here?” It was abundantly clear that he wasn’t seeking privacy for the purpose of further inquiry, discussion, or reproach. For that matter, my own question was largely rhetorical. He stood me on my feet, turned me about, and began undoing my laces. I could feel his breath on the bare skin of my neck, and the tiny hairs there shivered.

“Are you—” I began, only to be interrupted by a terse “Hush.” I hushed. I could hear then what he’d heard: the Bartrams, in conversation with each other. They were some distance away, though—on the back porch of the house, I thought, screened from the river path by a thick hedge of English yew. “I don’t think they can hear us,” I said, though I lowered my voice.

“I’ve done wi’ talking,” he whispered, and, leaning forward, closed his teeth gently on the nape of my exposed neck.

“Hush,” he said again, though mildly. I hadn’t actually said anything, and the sound I’d made was too high-pitched to draw the attention of anything save a passing bat. I exhaled strongly through my nose and heard him chuckle deep in his throat. My stays came loose, and cool air flooded through the damp muslin of my shift. He paused, one hand on the tapes of my petticoats, to reach round with the other and gently lift one breast, heavy and free, thumb rubbing the nipple, hard and round as a cherry stone. I made another sound, this one lower-pitched.

I thought vaguely how fortunate it was that he was left-handed, as that was the hand nimbly engaged in undoing the tapes of my skirts. These fell in a swishing heap round my feet, and I had a sudden vision—as his hand left my breast and the shift whiffed up round my ears—of Young Mr. Bartram suddenly realizing a dire need to pot up a batch of rosemary seedlings. The shock probably wouldn’t kill him, but . . .

“May as well be hung for sheep as lambs,” Jamie said, having evidently divined my thought from the fact that I’d turned round and was shielding my more private bits in the manner of Botticelli’s Venus. “And I’ll have ye naked.”

He grinned at me, whipped off his own dirt-streaked shirt—he’d thrown off his coat when he set me down—and yanked down his breeks without pausing to undo the flies.

He was thin enough to make this possible; the breeches hung on his hipbones, barely staying up by themselves, and I saw the shadow of his ribs beneath his skin as he bent to shed his stockings.

He straightened and I put a hand on his chest. It was damp and warm, and the ruddy hairs prickled into gooseflesh at my touch. I could smell the hot, eager scent of him, even over the agricultural fug of the shed and the lingering smell of cabbage.

“Not so fast,” I whispered.

He made a Scottish sound of interrogation, reaching for me, and I dug my fingers into the muscle of his breast.

“I want a kiss first.”

He put his mouth against my ear and both hands firmly on my bottom. “Are ye in a position to make demands, d’ye think?” he whispered, tightening his grasp. I caught the faint barb in that. “Yes, I bloody am,” I said, and adjusted my own grip somewhat lower. He wouldn’t be attracting any bats, I thought.

We were eyeball-to-eyeball, clasped and breathing each other’s breath, close enough to see the smallest nuance of expression, even in the dimness. I saw the seriousness that underlay the laughter—and the doubt beneath the bravado.

“I am your wife,” I whispered, my lips brushing his.

“I ken that,” he said, very softly, and kissed me. Softly. Then closed his eyes and brushed his lips across my face, not so much kissing as feeling the contours of cheekbone and brow, of jaw and the tender skin below the ear, seeking to know me again past skin and breath, to know me to the blood and bone, to the heart that beat beneath.

I made a small sound and tried to find his mouth with my own, pressing against him, bare bodies cool and damp, hair rasping sweetly, and the lovely firmness of him rolling between us. He wouldn’t let me kiss him, though. His hand gripped the tail of my hair at the base of my neck, cupping my head, the other hand pursuing the same game of blind man’s buff. There was a rattling thump; I had backed into a potting bench, setting a tray of tiny seedling pots to vibrating, the spicy leaves of sweet basil trembling in agitation. Jamie pushed the tray aside with one hand, then grasped me by the elbows and lifted me onto the bench.

“Now,” he said, half breathless. “I must have ye now.” He did, and I ceased caring whether there were splinters in the bench or not.

I wrapped my legs round him and he laid me flat and leaned over me, hands braced on the bench, with a sound halfway between bliss and pain. He moved slowly in me and I gasped. The rain had grown from a patter to a ringing din on the tin roof of the shed, covering any sounds I might make, and a good thing, too, I thought dimly. The air had cooled but was full of moisture; our skins were slick, and heat sprang up where flesh touched flesh. He was slow, deliberate, and I arched my back, urging him. In response, he took me by the shoulders, bent lower, and kissed me lightly, barely moving. “I willna do it,” he whispered, and held tight when I struggled against him, trying vainly to goad him into the violent response I wished—I needed. “Won’t do what?” I was gasping. “I willna punish ye for it,” he said, so softly I could barely hear him, close as he was. “I’ll not do that, d’ye hear?” “I don’t frigging want you to punish me, you bastard.” I grunted with effort, my shoulder joints creaking as I tried to break free of his grasp. “I want you to . . . God, you know what I want!” “Aye, I do.” His hand left my shoulder and cupped beneath my buttock, touching the flesh of our joining, stretched and slippery. I made a small sound of surrender, and my knees loosened. He pulled back, then came back into me, strongly enough that I gave a small, high-pitched cry of relief.

“Ask me to your bed,” he said, breathless, hands on my arms. “I shall come to ye. For that matter—I shall come, whether ye ask it or no. But remember, Sassenach—I am your man; I serve ye as I will.” “Do,” I said. “Please do. Jamie, I want you so!” He seized my ars* in both hands, hard enough to leave bruises, and I arched up into him, grasping, hands sliding on his sweat-slick skin.

“God, Claire, I need ye!”

Rain was roaring on the tin roof now, and lightning struck close by, blue-white and sharp with ozone. We rode it together, forked and light-blind, breathless, and the thunder rolled through our bones.

24 WELCOME COOLNESS IN THE HEAT, COMFORT IN THE MIDST OF WOE ~ Written in My Own Heart's Blood

[blimpintime]

jar of wind part three

Wynnie Lara is a fairy that was saved from a jar from Amarantha's reign of terror, but is soon figuring out that her time of peace is coming to a end.

warnings: angst, light gore, unedited

word count: 2.1k

eventual eris x oc

The wind helps me reach The Night Court in record time even though it was fighting me the entire way, my satchel holds mine and Eris’s gift for Nyx. A stuffed fox and a hand-crafted wooden play tea set. The weather when I get here is cooler than it was when I left, which makes sense considering Summer has come to an end. However, something seems off in the air and I can’t place what it is. Shrugging my shoulders and letting out the breath I was holding, I just blamed it on the nerves of being back here. 

When I finally get to the River House I notice some slight changes; like the wind chimes I had placed had been taken down or the sun catchers that were hanging are now lying in the dirt half haphazardly covered in soil. I roll my eyes and sigh. I grip my satchel a little tighter and fold my glowing wings behind my back. My pink glow has turned into a warm purple matching the sunset in the sky that is covering Velaris.

A sinking feeling coats me when I am about to knock on the door, hearing sounds of laughter and excitement escape through the small cracks of the door. I suddenly wish Eris was with me but shake off the thought. He is a High Lord now, he has more important things to worry about than you. I think to myself. My hand was hovering over the door for an awkward amount of time before I just decided to rip off the bandage and knock. 

A breath releases from me when it is Elain who answers the door and not someone else. Her face brightens with a huge grin and she practically tackles me with a hug. 

“Wynn!” She shouts, and I am wondering if she has had just a little bit to drink. I grin back and say her name in a quieter tone. 

She pulls me into the warm house, her pale pink dress fluttering around her as she moves. She was always so naturally welcoming to me. When she had first discovered me lying in the sun on one of her flowers she almost had a heart attack but quickly after that, we became close friends. I doubt I would have met the rest of the inner circle if it weren’t for Elain. So maybe that’s why I always felt like an imposter here. 

“You and I have so much to catch up on!” She tells me. I shoot her back a grin.

“As if we weren’t sending letters back and forth weekly?” I say with a teasing smile. 

“It is simply not the same, I must see your reaction.” She responds in a whisper as though she doesn’t want anyone else to hear. 

“Ahh. I understand.” I whisper back in the same joking tone. We arrived where everyone else had been sitting and a silence went over the room. I internally wince at the awkwardness, but luckily it does not last long when Feyre and Nesta stand to greet me. 

“Wynnie Lara!” Nesta says she and Feyre pull me into a hug, Nesta in a gray dress and Feyre in a dark blue one. I look over their shoulder to see Azriel avoiding eye contact with where we are standing, and Cassian and Rhys both have guilty smiles on their faces. It seems I arrived a little too late and Nyx was put to sleep already. 

When the sisters pull away from their hug I am left there standing awkwardly with Elain hanging off of my shoulder. She’s keeping my body warm and relaxed even though I would rather be anywhere else right now. 

Rhys clears his throat, “Wynn I want to apologize for how things were left the last time you were here.” I give a stiff nod in acknowledgment before saying,

“Is that really how you feel or is that what your wife told you to say?” and the room responds in a thick silence. “Because I do not think I can trust any words that leave your mouth High Lord.” 

He gives a wince, “I deserve that.” Nesta coughs and takes a sip of her drink muttering something under her breath. 

“Did you come here to throw a pity party or did you come here to celebrate?” Azriel butts in as if he is bored of this whole show.

“I don’t know Azriel, what poor girl do you have feeding your hero complex to make you so relaxed?” I bite back. “Just a forewarning, she probably won’t stick around once she realizes how much of a little bitch you are.” He stands up abruptly and Rhys raises his hand as a warning and someone snorts in the background. 

“Wynn,” Rhys says shocked. I look at him and my glow turns pink and I mutter out a weak, “Sorry.” I’m not. 

“I actually do have a gift for little Nyx,” I say and reach into my satchel. Elain’s face is still tucked into my neck, and she whispers “You smell like clove and nutmeg.” 

I grin a little knowing that is the Autumn Courts doing, and my mood goes melancholy when I realize I miss it. When I pull out the little toys, Feyre’s face lights up and before she walks over Rhys puts a hand out in front of her to stop her. 

“Wynn.” He says, “Where were you for the past few months?” He asks although I suspect he already knows the answer.

“Home, High Lord,” I respond sharply.  “The Autumn Court. Eris sends his regards.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Azriel shouts out. “You’re a traitor Wynnie Lara.” I roll my eyes. 

“Oh to the Mother. No, I am not.” I breathe before continuing, “If any of you actually took the time to get to know me, you would have already known that is where I am from. I mean the girls already knew and to be honest the only one who has a right to be upset is Mor and she is not.” I take notice that Mor was not here which was weird considering it was Nyx’s birthday but that tells me she is probably on an important mission. 

“My kind also has a tragic backstory, just like you guys. My people, my species were hunted for sport centuries ago. Humans, fae, it didn’t matter it was a game. So when it was eventually outlawed across Prythian we had already borderline gone extinct.” I say with a shaking voice. I look to see horror across everyone’s face and it fills me with some sick satisfaction that they regret how they’ve been treating me.

“Wynn-” Elain starts but I pat her hand to let me continue. 

“The worst time though, was not the hunting. No, it was Amarantha. Yes I know I was stuck in a jar. But I watched her terrorize the rest of my people for fun, ripping them in half and plucking their wings off their backs as if they were nothing but gnats. All I have seen for my kind is gruesome bloodshed.” I have tears streaming down my face as I continue. 

“The only one to ever show me kindness during all of that was Eris. That is because he and I grew up together. When I found the Autumn Court there was a children’s shelter that I made my home for years. He and I found each other in the woods in our youth, he was the one to break me out of that damn jar when everything was over. Without him, I would have been stuck in the jar or worse.

Because of his father’s cruel reign, once I was healed enough Eris sent me here for sanctuary. I did not know any of you really besides Feyre and that was only because she was the Cursebreaker.” I managed to get out. Elain wrapped me up in her arms whispering words of encouragement while swaying us both. Feyre had tears streaming down her face. Nesta had a hand covering her mouth in dread and Cassian rubbing her back with the same grim look on his face.

Azriel is wrapped in shame and Rhysand looks horrified. He stands up and walks towards me, gently takes the gifts out of my hands, and offers me a hug. And for a moment I don’t return it, but when I do, I feel a weight taken off my shoulders. 

“Wynn if we would have known.” Rhys starts but I interrupt. 

“You would have what? Treated me better? Do I not just deserve your kindness as is? Or do people have to have some sort of traumatic backstory to earn your respect?” I clear my throat and nose once I pull back, “I did not tell you guys that to pity me, I am telling you because just because I am kind and small does not mean I am weak or some pushover. If you do not want me here that’s fine I will leave. But do not take whatever feelings you are struggling with, out on me.” I make it a point to hold eye contact with Azriel for that last part. 

“I think we all owe you a huge apology for how you have been treated since arriving in Velaris. This city was built to be and stay a sanctuary, so the fact that you have been behaved towards so unfairly is embarrassing, to say the least.” Rhysand says standing sternly next to me.

“I am sorry the most. I have no real reason to have treated you the way I have.” Azriel speaks softly.  “Please forgive me.” I look at him and give him a once-over. He is slouching in the chair he is sitting in, hands rubbing his face as the shadows around him twirl. 

“I do forgive you but I do not think I could ever trust you,” I respond in the same tone, he winces and nods. Everyone gives their condolences to me, even Elain but I think that’s because she is tipsy and her emotions are just heightened. 

After the tense moment is over I let the group know that I will be leaving. The three sisters all looked shocked. 

“I really do wish I could stay longer but I have work to do back in Autumn, plus something is wrong. Or is about to be wrong, I am not sure.” I say with a furrow of my brows grabbing my arms and wrapping them around myself.  My wings glow and twitch as I think about the shifting of the wind. And my hue finally changes back to its normal orange-pink. 

“What do you mean?” Cassian finally speaks up with a questioning look on his face. 

“I have a hard time trying to describe it in words, but I am connected to the wind as you all know. And it’s shifting weirdly and in abnormal patterns. I can normally predict how the weather is going to be based on it and I have been wrong little to none because of being able to read the wind. Recently though it is like I have never interacted with the wind at all.” I utter all at once. 

“I am not sure though. I have to get back to my research and experiments to figure more out. Once I do, I will make sure to write.” I let out with a soft smile.

I am sensing because of the heavy conversation and the lateness of the evening that the party is over. I give my goodbyes, hug Elain, and make sure she will still write to me weekly.  With that, I take off back into the night sky and head home. 

While gliding through the air I had almost reached the Autumn Court when the wind around me went frigid and midflight I dropped towards the ground. Once my wings regain their sense of balance I spin in the sky looking for a threat, and as expected I come up empty. As I am about to continue my flight home a hard spike goes through my left hand. A yelp leaves my throat and I look to see an arrow, piercing my hand. I yell as I start to fall, my wings having a hard time opening. I get shot with another arrow through my right thigh, I let an agonizing scream out and close my eyes once I hit the cold ground with a hard thud. 

Bleary-eyed trying to stand I feel warm blood coming out of my hand and leg, I see a figure walking towards me and I try to crawl away leaving a trail of fresh blood following me, “No, leave me alone.” I grunt out. Once they reach me I pray to the Mother that my death be swift, and then it goes dark. 

a/n: soooooo what did yall think?

i do not own any of sarah j mass's characters.

taglist: @cazrielsfairygf @buckyloki888 @litnerdwrites @the-fandom-ness @booksbypisces @nerdyalmondlawyerauthor @fatimam6 @lees-chaotic-brain @love-bookprincess @paleidiot @slytherintaco @lilah-asteria @rcarbo1 @esposadomd

[tommykinard6]

TW: past suicide (not main character), past attempted suicide, suicidal ideation, mental health crisis.

The water was dark and choppy below his feet, dangling over the river from where Eddie sat on the bridge.

It was one of those bridges with a good footpath, but tended to be deserted at night so a car only passed Eddie every once in a while. None slowed, not seeing his shadowy figure leaning against one of the pillars. His car was pulled onto the shoulder just off of the bridge and he’d been there just long enough to wish he’d brought a jacket, but not long enough to convince himself to leave.

What was he going home to? An empty house? To a life that no longer felt worth-

No. He shook his head to disperse the thoughts, but he didn’t get up, kicking his feet as he looked at the water far beneath him.

He barely heard the footsteps before someone sat beside him. He turned, ready to say any excuse or to run in case the person was weird, but any words he had died on his tongue when he saw Tommy Kinard sitting beside him. The older man was watching him with a carefully blank face, but his eyes were worried.

Eddie waited for the other man to speak first and an awkward amount of time passed before he realized it was on him. “What are you doing here?”

He then kicked himself. He could’ve struck up a friendly conversation, said anything else to get that worried look out of Tommy’s eyes, but he didn’t and the look only grew deeper.

“Passing by, saw your car. Could ask you the same thing, Eddie. Perilous place to stargaze.”

“I’m fine.” And maybe it was something in his tone or maybe Tommy was never going to be fooled anyway, but his answer only made the worry lines in his friend’s face deeper. “Really. I’m just clearing my thoughts.”

Tommy hummed and looked down at the choppy water below just as a gust of wind washed over them. Eddie shivered. “There’s a nice park across the bridge. That’s a pretty good place to think. Been there a few times myself. Less dangerous than here. Less cold.”

“It’s not too bad.” Eddie was, in fact, freezing, but he could barely feel it. He felt a flicker of irritation that Tommy was still there. He just wanted to be left alone. “Seriously man, I’m good. You on your way to Buck’s?”

Tommy hummed an affirmation. “Yeah, but I’m in no rush. Might sit here for a minute, if you don’t mind. Pay my respects.”

Eddie couldn’t help the curiosity, even over the growing irritation that he tried not to examine too closely. “Your respects?”

“Mhm. Lost someone here about seven years ago.”

“A call?”

“Nah. Someone more personal.”

“I’m sorry.” The irritation died down as he took in Tommy’s distant look.

“He was a bastard, but he deserved better.” Tommy turned to look at Eddie and the younger man felt a little too seen under sharp blue eyes. “Wouldn’t think it, but it’s not an uncommon place to pitch yourself off of. We attended more than a few calls here, back when I was at the 118.”

The irritation flickered back to life and Eddie swallowed around a lump in his throat. “Yeah. We got a call like that last week.”

“Did they survive?”

“No. DOA.”

Tommy hummed softly. “Sorry, man. Those are rough.” He nudged Eddie’s shoulder. “Probably should head back, man. You don’t want to fall in.”

“Seriously, I’m good, man. Thanks. I’m just going to hang out here.”

To his annoyance, Tommy didn’t move. Eddie stared out over the water, shoulders tense as he waited for the other man to either leave or say something. He finally did, voice tentative as he asked, “You doing ok, Eds?”

The irritation snapped into something bigger. “I’d do a lot better alone, Tommy. No offense man, but I really don’t want company right now.” He dared to look over at the pilot and the man’s blank face made him snap, “Seriously, man, you’re acting like I’m going to throw myself off!”

“I did.”

It took a moment to register in Eddie’s brain, but when it did, the irritation flickered out like an extinguished candle. “What?”

“Rather, I tried.” Tommy’s face was stony and he wasn’t looking at Eddie, eyes turned towards the water. “The guy I lost here seven years ago was me, Eddie. Or rather, the man I used to be. And I tried to throw the rest of me in with him. This very spot. It’s the deepest. I jumped from where you’re sitting now.”

Eddie was lost for words, jolted out of his own head for the first time in a while. “But you’re alive.”

“I never hit the water.” Tommy looked down, fiddling with his hoodie string. “Someone caught me as I stepped off, dragged me back onto the bridge no matter how much I screamed for him to let me go.”

Eddie tried to wrap his brain around it, the little pieces of a picture he had no idea existed with the man sitting next to him. “Why?” His voice sounded wrecked.

“I thought my life was over. I thought everything I’d worked for, everything that I’d fought for, was gone. I’d faked being someone I wasn’t until I was and that person was someone I despised but I thought I was protecting myself until that night. I thought I’d given up everything and it was all for nothing. I was going to be ostracized from the only family I had. So I came here to end it all.”

His voice was matter of fact, but quivered slightly towards the end. Eddie floundered for a moment, feeling like he’d been pushed off of the bridge into the cold waters below. “But you were saved?”

“By the person I thought was going to end my life. By one of the people I thought I was dying to avoid. He’d followed me here, knew what I was going to do. He…” Tommy paused, swallowing harshly. “He hated who I was. He wanted me to hide who I was. But he didn’t want me dead. So he pulled me off of this bridge and took me home and didn’t allow me out of his sight until he knew I wasn’t a danger to myself anymore. And then he left my life. He hated who I was too much to stay, but he didn’t hate me enough to let me die.”

There was a lot to unpack there. And if Eddie was a good friend, he would ask more questions, listen to Tommy. But he didn’t think he could be a good friend to anyone right now, including himself. “You think I’m here to jump?”

“You have the same look in your eye that I had in those days leading up to me stepping off of this spot. I don’t know if you’re here to jump Eddie, but I don’t think you’re going to catch yourself either. Like hell am I going to leave you here. So please, Eddie, let me take you off of this bridge, alright? Because I’m not leaving until you do.”

Eddie looked down, lump in his throat as he watched the waves. “But…”

“Trust me, man. It’s a permanent solution to a temporary problem. Because it’s temporary. Chris is coming back and you guys will sort it out. You have a family that loves you and friends that want you. And you have a hell of a lot to live for. So you’re going to come back with me to Evan and you’re going to stay with us. Tomorrow we’re going to call your therapist.” There was a pause. “You have a therapist, right? Cause if not, we’re getting you one.”

Eddie nodded slowly. “Frank.”

And he shouldn’t expect Tommy to know who Frank was, but the man nodded immediately. “LAFD Frank? Good man. We’re calling him.”

Eddie turned to look at Tommy, shivering slightly as he felt the next gust of wind. “But you and Buck-“

“Don’t even think about it. Evan wants you there too.”

“You haven’t told him though.”

“I don’t have to. Eddie, will you let me get you off this bridge?”

And every fiber in Eddie’s being screamed at him to say no, to pull away. But Tommy was there, gaze unwavering and determined. He wasn’t going to take no for an answer. Eddie wasn’t even sure he wanted him to anymore.

He was so confused. He was so tired.

“Ok.”

[cloudrunnerscinnamon]

A short, slightly angsty Twelfth Doctor one shot - but don't worry, it's cute in the end :) 

Imagine you are traveling with the Doctor and at some point, after another ludicrous adventure, there are emotions demanding to be felt. What’s going to happen?

(picture not mine)

"Just Once"

„Do you trust me?“ the Doctor asked. His hands were firmly wrapped around your upper arms and he stared unblinkingly at you. 

„Yes, yes of course, yes of course I do,“ you stuttered, „ always!“

The Doctor heavily breathed out through his nose and cast his view down, head hanging for a second before it snapped back up. This irritated you. Why did he seem disappointed? Why did you get the feeling that the Time Lord actually wished to be rejected. Was it because of fear? Was he scared of the responsibility that came with the trust that others put in him? That you obviously put in him… But why did he ask then? You were puzzled which had to be showing on your face because the Doctor’s face grew a bit softer, a bit less pensive and he seemed to really look at you again. 

Then it dawned on you. He was asking for permission, which was also why he did hope you would deny him. Permission for what though? You had been running with this man for what felt like forever. Why did he need reassurance now? Now of all times? 

You both had just barely made it out of an underground city which had been flooded by an acidic river. Until the last second the Doctor and you had tried everything to reverse the polarity of the thick, clear liquid but to no avail. In the end you still had to flee, almost not making it. Both of your clothes were scorched from the acid. Your boots looked especially bad. The soles were almost completely gone. Shame really, you did love those minty Doc Martens. Now, thinking back you realized how close of a call this last adventure had been. Suddenly something „clicked“ and you understood. Naturally the Doctor would pick a time like this to inquire upon your faith. It weren’t just your emotions running high but the Time Lord’s too. You had almost lost each other. All over in a blink of an eye. Gone. Unceremoniously slurped up by some acid glibber-liquid-river-thing. Dissolved into nothingness. 

Panic rose in you, even more adrenalin rushing your system. Panic you should have felt minutes ago racing against a tide bellowing after you. But all that kicked in now.

„I could have died,“ you whispered to yourself eyes not really looking, your gaze going inward. 

„We could have died!“ You yelled and your voice rung in your own ears, harsh and loud. You slapped your hand over your mouth shocked by the enormity of your statement and a tremble went through your entire body. 

„Doctor,“ it sounded muffled against the palm of your hand. Tears sprang to your eyes, a familiar sting. Your throat felt very tight all of a sudden and then you couldn’t hold it back any longer. A heart-wrenching sob left your body. 

The Doctor’s own eyes didn’t hold tears but they still carried a heavy sadness. His hands moved a little, making a very small stroking motion up and down your arms and shoulders. Then he removed your hand from your face which was still covering your mouth. He kept holding onto it tightly. His long slim fingers folded themselves around yours and that pressure anchored you back down. Wordlessly the Doctor started to wipe away your tears. All the while he kept holding your gaze and you didn’t know if you could handle the intensity or the intimacy of his actions. When he finally spoke the Time Lord’s voice was rough with emotions. 

„But you didn’t. We didn’t.“ It almost sounded like he was only saying those words to make sure they were still holding up to reality.

The lump in your throat eased up a little. The Doctor’s hand on your face calmed you down and you leaned your head more into it. You let him take more of the weight that had been sitting heavy on you. Your eyes fell shut. His caress was blooming like a bright light in your mind and you relished all the attention he was giving you. How could those fingers be so soft and gentle when he hardly ever seeked out another one’s touch? How could he put so much comfort in one touch when he never let anyone be so kind with him? How could he be so gingerly when he would never allow himself to be treated the same? 

You feel is thumb running slowly over your cheekbone. Once, twice then you lose count, lost in the sensation. The Doctor’s hand that was still holding yours squeezed lightly, you could feel a tug. It pulled you out of your head, like a rope pulling you out from under the water. You broke the surface and your eyes flickered open again. There he was and his cross eyebrows – not so cross right now. „He is so close“, you thought. Had he been that close a minute ago? 

I am not a hugger. The Doctor’s voice echoed through your memories from a while back. Him uttering these words really had stung a lot. He had respectfully but also firmly peeled himself out off your embrace and gone back to fiddling about the Tardis’ console. Of course even back then you had known that the Doctor did not reciprocate your feelings for him. At least most definitely not the romantic ones. A friend, maybe even a best friend, something resembling family by choice – yes absolutely but not a lover, not that kind of love. So his comment about not being a hugger did not surprise you too much. Numerous times you had become firsthand witness to the Doctor and his awkward little dances to avoid physical contact with just about anyone. However it still shattered your fragile human heart. Secretly you had wished he would make an exception for you. Oh, how stupid of you to think that. Acid rivers wont kill me, you rebuked yourself,  but my naiveté and wishful thinking are going to be the death of me. 

No, the Time Lord really hadn’t been so close a moment ago and you were still certain that he wasn’t a hugger. So what was going on? His face was so close you could, for the first time, make out the little brown spots in the Doctor’s blueish-green eyes. It came with a bit of a surprise to you that you had never really thought about what color his eyes were. You just knew you always wanted to see them. Now that they had been unwaveringly on you for the last minutes you found yourself growing uneasy. The adrenalin, the panic, the close proximity to the Doctor and his strange behavior had you strung tight like a rubber-band about to snap. For a short time there was only breathing. It made you painfully self-aware, too loud, too heavy, too quick. Matching right up with the beating of your heart and you wondered if the Doctor’s two hearts were hammering away in his chest as well. You wanted to put your hand on his chest and feel, you needed to know. The craving was so strong you had to actively keep yourself from reaching out. There was no way you would invade his space like that even though he was practically pushing „his space“ onto yours by now. 

You were lost and so confused. For all you knew you too could have been holding a silent conversation judging by the staring contest but you had no clue what about. The Tardis translates pretty much any language in time and space, why doesn’t she speak grumpy, Scottish Time Lord and his many dialects just this once. A huffed laughter slips out between your lips and you loose eye contact with the Doctor for a second. This was getting ridiculous and frankly you were past waiting. 

„Doctor,“ with a swift movement you push his left hand off of your face and pull your hand free of his right.  

„What is going on, what do you want? What are we doing here, I don’t –“. And his hands snapped back in position this time both on your face, holding it lightly, effectively shutting you up. You were dumfounded, brain not braining. A sound, which could have been interpreted as something in the area of „Doctor?“ but that would have been reaching, left your mouth. The Time Lord looked at you, registering all your emotions. His lips were slightly parted and his eyes wandered all over your face like he was trying to create a blueprint for his memory. And then wondrously he stepped even closer. It could have been the dim lights in the Tardis’ hallway but you were sure the Doctor’s eyes darkened. His body was so close to yours that you felt the heat radiating off of him. You stayed perfectly still not sure what to think, feel or do. 

„I will do this once, because I just have to know.“ The Doctor whispered while bending down a little. His mouth was inches from yours and you could feel his hot breath on your lips. 

„I need,“ he pressed his eyes shut and your breath hitched in anticipation, was this really happening? 

„I need so see how it feels, I need to know if…“  He hesitated. The Time Lord opened his eyes again giving you a pleading look almost begging for help. You understood then that he was battling with himself. 

Almost losing you had made him realize how much you actually meant to him and he wanted to act on it. He wanted to show you but this would mean completely going against all his rules. He was the Doctor he couldn’t get too close, he needed to keep a safe distance – always. Otherwise the inevitable loss would tear him apart. But not knowing what it would feel like to just give in made him want to crawl out of his own skin. For once the Time Lord wanted to feel it all, the butterflies, the longing, the safety, the familiarity and all the sweet nullities because how could he deny his hearts when they were bound to feel the pain of parting eventually. 

You could see the ongoing struggle on the Doctor’s face.You wanted to help him badly but without taking the choice away from him. Knowing the Doctor meant to understand that he couldn’t be pushed. So you decided to simply repeat your statement from a few minutes ago. 

„Doctor,“ you mutter, “ I trust you, always.“

In an instant the Doctor’s mouth was on yours. His weight pushed you against the curved wall of the hallway. The cool metal, a harsh contrast to the warmth between you too. One of his hands brushed past your jawline, along your neck, up into your hair. The other fell down to your waist holding onto you. 

When you kissed it was a brush of soft lips. For all the need the Doctor had held right before kissing you, it was all but slow and tender now. Then the tip of his tongue nudged against your lips softly asking for more but it didn’t feel forward, it was rather sweet, almost shy. You opened your mouth and the Doctor deepened the kiss tentatively. 

Suddenly you could taste him. There was thunderstorm and starlight, vanilla ice cream mixed with the smoky bite of a good Scottish whisky and something else, something you couldn’t quite put your finger on. It was glorious and you just melted into the Time Lord. Your bodies slotted against each other like they had always been intended to do just that and still he pulled you closer. Never letting go. There was heavy breathing and tiny noises but from whom you couldn’t tell. 

Did you stop breathing and just kept on kissing? You had no idea. 

Did said kiss last for two seconds or two hours? Still you had no clue. 

All too soon the kissing stopped and pathetically a whimper slipped out of you when you felt the Doctor pull away just a bit. It was not for long though. He proceeded to place wispy kisses all over your face and your knees turned all wobbly. You always knew the Doctor was a kind and sweet soul but you never imagined him to be so smooth and caring when it came to physical contact. That realization made your heart want to burst out of your chest. Could you love this man even more? 

The next time he reached your mouth he melted against it with a sigh. That sound robbed you of any restraint you might have still held and this time you passionately deepened the kiss. 

When the two of you came up out of the haze for air, the Doctor looked slightly disheveled and you couldn’t help yourself but it was just adorable. Tousled hair, red cheeks, whiffled eyes. 

You were still in his arms, you both didn’t seem to want to move. The Time Lord had never looked so openly and lovingly at you before. It felt like he wanted to make sure you understood that he was ready to let someone in. To let you in.

You smiled at him. Gently you ran your thumb over the Doctor’s cheek. He closed his eyes and a small smile was playing on his lips. 

And then suddenly, you had figured it out. 

„Oh, I know now,“ you said softly steeling one more chased peck on the lips from the Doctor to confirm your guess. He looked at you curiously.

„You know what?“ His voice low and husky. 

„Oranges.“ you exclaimed and leaned forward a little. Speaking while your lips touched his. 

„You taste like a loud thunderstorm and bright starlight, like vanilla ice cream doused with smoky whisky and fresh oranges.“ 

The Doctor laughed, burying his face in your neck and layering it with kisses. 

„I aim to please,“ he said and you both had to laugh at that. 

[verbenaa]

venus in furs

𝑠𝑢𝑚𝑚𝑎𝑟𝑦: He’s always imagined you like this in his dreams, he thinks. Naked, dressed in rubies as red as the wine in your silver chalice, blood like pomegranate juice dripping from your lips, staining your mouth to match the red of your blood that colors his own.

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

𝑝𝑎𝑖𝑟𝑖𝑛𝑔: Astarion/Reader

𝑔𝑒𝑛𝑟𝑒: smut, 18+ only

𝑤𝑜𝑟𝑑 𝑐𝑜𝑢𝑛𝑡: 6.1k

𝑤𝑎𝑟𝑛𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑠: Ascended Astarion, dom Astarion, dom/sub, vaginal fingering, finger sucking, blowjobs, slight exhibitionism, slight degradation, guided masturbation, vaginal sex

𝑎/𝑛: back with another one, friends. I didn't ever think I would really write ascended Astarion, but what can I say?? I hope you all like this one, I definitely enjoyed writing it and getting out of my comfort zone a little bit! Let me know what you think! Thank you so much for reading!

MDNI, 18+ CONTENT

ao3 here

masterlist

The air of the palace is cold against your exposed skin as you walk through the halls you now own, wearing nothing but an ermine cloak and glittering jewels, your stride confident amidst the darkened hallways.

These halls were once filled with the smell of decay and the leftover dust of ages past, a distasteful reminder of the horrors that had occurred here over centuries. You had made sure upon Astarion’s ascension to rip out as much of the place as you could, making decisions with that of an aesthete’s touch, ideals of what a grand palace should look like for your lover.

Dull red carpets were hastily replaced with elegant emerald green, every oppressive drapery torn away from their rods and transformed instead into flowing brocaded silks, old and rotted furniture sent to be thrown into the river or to burn, it mattered not which end it met. Such matters of what happened to the furniture were beneath you. 

You had much loftier concerns to deal with, now.

After all, what use was being His Dark Consort, if not to wile away your now infinite hours doing whatever you so wished, consequences be damned?

You stride towards the ballroom where two thrones of gleaming gold sit side by side on a newly raised dais, not caring whether the servants you passed noticed your state of dishabille. You knew they would turn their eyes from you, they would never dare to look upon you in such a way without his express permission.

At last, you make your way to your destination; chandeliers dimly lit with tapers of dripping wax hang from the ceiling, illuminating the richly woven tapestries decorating the walls. It was a shame you still couldn’t manage to get all of the blood stains out of the floorboards from the battle with those dreadful wolves, but you supposed there were worse trophies than those of your victories. You were content to let them serve as a reminder to all those who entered this place of who it was that had eventually won the battle.

A quick step up onto the dais has you exactly where you want to be, your eyes flitting between the twin thrones, resplendent with whorls of gold crafted into scenes of animals at hunt, the seats plush with dark velvet. With naught but a minute glance towards your own throne, you instead bring your gaze upon that of Astarion’s. 

You settle into your lover’s throne and arrange your cloak around you, the blood red of the velvet sliding against your curves as you move to recline, the contrast stark against the milky fur of the oversized collar, dark dots smattered across the expanse of alabaster like drops of ink against a page. 

The jewels around your neck and in your ears shift with every movement of your body, the pear-shaped ruby of your necklace—practically the size of your palm—encrusted with crystal clear diamonds heavy as it rests upon your collarbone. 

You wait for Astarion to find you, just like this, your body on display for him in the way you know he so likes. Soft curls of anticipation settle deep within your stomach, embers of pleasure eager to transform into a wildfire. 

Astarion, thankfully, does not keep you waiting long, his muted footfalls upon the covered floors catch upon your ears soon after taking your desired place. The knowledge he is finally here and so close has you sitting up slightly straighter. 

You know he will be able smell the scent of you, the heady aroma of your slow growing excitement will lead him right to where you lay in wait for him. You arrange yourself for one moment more on the throne, a siren’s smile on your face as you await the presence of your lover.

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

The last thing Astarion expects to see when he walks into the ballroom is you, lounging indolently on his throne of all places, wearing nothing but the dark red of an ermine cloak and dripping in jewels.

He has to give you credit, he supposes; when he walked in from the city after a series of decidedly droll meetings with decidedly useless patriars, finding you waiting for him like a little treat dying to be tasted did not make his list. 

How very lucky you are, it seems, that when he scented your arousal on the stairs he decided instead to investigate rather than moving on to whatever work awaits him in his office.

You had always liked playing these kinds of games, your subtle machinations something he was always happy to bear witness to with a smile on his face.

His perfect, pretty Dark Consort and her quaint little schemes. 

“And what do we have here?” Astarion arches a brow as he takes in the sight of you. 

His eyes trace your frame, from the white and black of the fur trim that rests against your naked flesh, hiding your peaked nipples from sight as your crossed legs obscure the telltale wetness he knows is forming between your thighs.

You flutter your lashes prettily at his perusal of your body, a coquettish tilt of your head at his interest.

With predatory intent, Astarion makes a slow circle around his throne with inhuman grace, his eyes never leaving you. You feel the intensity of his gaze against your skin, your hair, your lips—every part of you on display for him and him only. 

He’s always imagined you like this in his dreams, he thinks. Naked, dressed in rubies as red as the wine in your silver chalice, blood like pomegranate juice dripping from your lips, staining your mouth to match the red of your blood that colors his own.

He completes his circle and his eyes meet your own, his glowing claret gaze darkening and you know with certainty that he is pleased at your offering for him.

“Won’t you bend the knee for me, my Lord?” You feign innocence in your question, eyes roving greedily over his clothed body, taking in the fine tailoring of his intricately embroidered velvet doublet, the skin-tight fit of the finest leather pants highlighting the beginnings of his erection.

“Is that what you would like, dearest?” His eyes bore into your own, a mocking smile alighting his plush lips at such a request. 

“It’s the least you can do, don’t you think? To be greeted with such a gift like myself?” Your thighs open for him as you recline further into the velvet, your wetness glistening in the dim candlelight.

“How presumptuous of you, my sweet Consort.” despite his words, a spike of heat works its way through your body at the sight of his knees moving smoothly to the floor in front of the throne you have now made your own. 

Your tongue darts out to wet your lips absentmindedly as he comes to settle his chest between your open thighs, a wicked smile forming on his lips.

Astarion doesn’t miss the sight of your tongue brushing against your lips, and he can’t help but think of other things that your mouth is capable of. He runs his hands up and down the outside of your thighs with surprising delicacy as his eyes move to your dewy center, now exposed to him. 

“I do hope you haven’t been waiting long, pet.” His hands make their way to your waist, thumbs brushing teasing patterns against your skin as he leans in to press a kiss to the softness of your lower belly, breath catching in your throat at the closeness of his lips.

You have but a moment to relish the feeling, the hands at your waist moving to yank you out of the throne upon which you sit. You quickly find yourself chest to chest with your lover, your exposed center pressing against the growing hardness still hidden behind tied leather for mere seconds before your world is turned once more; Astarion moving you onto your knees as you now face the seat of the throne you had just occupied, a spot of your own wetness darkening the velvet cushion as your ribcage presses hard against the golden frame of the throne.

A hand makes its way from your waist to clasp against your throat, the feeling of his fingers pressing in on your windpipe exquisite. 

“Because you’ll have to wait a little longer, I’m afraid.” His words fall hot against your ear as he speaks, lips brushing against the tender skin as your face falls at the thought of being denied what you had been so sure he would give you, a small noise of discontent falling from your rouged lips.

You feel the hand still resting on your waist move up to unclasp the fur cloak from your throat, the heavy fabric falling to the floor behind you with a muted thud before Astarion moves to grab and throw it aside. He quickly presses close, eager to replace the lost warmth as his hand makes it way back south, the embroidery of his doublet pressing against your exposed back, every caress of the threads like fire against your skin. 

The hand around you neck tightens infinitesimally, the additional pressure drawing a gasp from your lips as his other hand continues making it way lower, sweeping through the curls at the apex of your thighs before coming to cup at your dripping wetness. 

“I don’t take orders from you, lover, and it would do for you to remember that.” His fingers slide through your folds, drawing a noise from both of your lips at the feeling. 

“Gods, look at you. So desperate already, and I’ve barely touched you.” His words are a whisper against your neck, reverent despite his prior condemnation. Fingers trace at your entrance, their touch light and teasing as he continues his scolding. 

“What a little tyrant you’ve become. Daring to sit in my throne and to make such demands of me.” His tone is mocking now as he presses those two fingers at your entrance, pushing in to the knuckle, leaving you no time to acclimate to the fullness. A whine falls from your lips as his fingers move deep, eyes falling shut and head lolling forwards the hand still squeezing lightly at your throat.

Astarion allows the gesture, his hand softening its hold to instead stroke at the graceful column of you neck as your head falls back to rest upon his velvet draped shoulder. 

The fingers inside you find that spot deep inside, curling to press into it with relentless intent. Moans fall from your lips as his fingers fuck into your pussy, your wetness aiding their slide in and out of your wanting body. 

“Look at how easily you cry for me, my sweet.” His words spur you on, your hips riding his hand as his fingers find their rhythm deep inside you for but a moment before he mercilessly pulls them from of your body.

Astarion’s fingers leave you empty, a whimper filling the air as he drags the hand that had been pleasuring you up your body, leaving a trail of slick across the heated skin of your stomach to the place in between your breasts. 

His wet fingers leave your body to hover in front of you, your head coming up off his shoulder. 

Astarion’s pulls his fingers apart, shining strings of your arousal clinging between the digits. The sight of it has the both of you entranced as Astarion slowly brings those fingers together again and presses them against your lips.

“Open.” The command is clear in his voice, and you open your mouth without a second thought.

He settles the fingers on your tongue and you obediently close your mouth around them and suck at your own wetness coating the digits. 

“Such a good girl, barely having to be told what to do,” His praise is like velvet running across your skin as you hollow your cheeks around the digits in your mouth, your essence heavy on your tongue. 

“You taste divine, don’t you think?” You are powerless but to nod in agreement, empty core clenching at the honey dripping from his words.

The taste of yourself in your own mouth like this is downright lewd and you know without a doubt that if the heart that sits in your chest could beat once more that your face would be flushed as red as the roses you now choose to decorate with.

You can feel Astarion’s hardness through his pants, pressing into you from his place behind you, cock twitching with every movement of your tongue. His fingers make their way out of your mouth before reaching down to tweak at a hardened nipple, your saliva coating his digits as they rub circles around the nub. 

“Do me a favor, darling, and stay on those knees of yours.” Astarion’s lips brush against the delicate skin of your ear once more, his words a seductive whisper as he rises behind you. 

You look over your shoulder as he stands at his full height, your face at eye level with the hard bulge still hidden behind leather. A corner of your mouth tilts upwards as you turn on your knees to face him fully, hands coming up to rest on his upper thighs as you look up into his eyes.

Your fingers rub the leather covering his strong legs, head moving forward to rest lightly against his covered erection.

The sight of you down on your knees is that of sin incarnate, Astarion’s breath hitching slightly before that same wicked smile creeps back onto his features.

“May I, my Lord?” Your fingertips inch upwards with your words, playing with the waistband of his pants.

“It’s the least you can do, don’t you think?” He uses your earlier words against you tauntingly, his haughty smirk deepening at the devilish raise of your brows.

You see fit not to answer him with words, instead letting your hands do the talking as they make their way to the laces covering his erection. With several quick motions of your fingers the laces fall open and you free his aching length, placing a kiss to the tip.

Astarion groans at that first brush of your lips against him, hips jumping at the touch as his cock bobs in response.

You mouth at the crown, reverent brushes of your tongue moving on the soft skin of his shaft have his head falling back with a sigh. Astarion brings his eyes back to your form on the floor beneath him, knees resting on the ground as your nipples pebble in the chilled air, lips and tongue working him with the motions you know he loves. 

You lick a stripe up a vein on his cock before taking his heat inside your mouth, cheeks hollowing against him as you suck. The action has him moaning, your lips and tongue moving to work him as you slowly begin to bob your head.

You continue your ministrations, sucking him into your mouth as your hand comes to help you touch what you can’t easily reach with your mouth, pumping him at the base as your tongue caresses the crown of his cock. 

The noises Astarion makes is like music to your ears, the sound of his carnal moans only serving to drive you to move your mouth faster and deeper.

“You can take me harder, can’t you?” His words are uncharacteristically breathless as his fingers card through your hair, gathering strands into a makeshift ponytail in his fist as his other hand brushes against the high point of your cheek.

You nod your head as much as you can with your lips wrapped around his cock, humming in confirmation as your eyes look up to meet his own gaze, glassy with lust. 

Astarion pumps his hips at your blessing, moving his cock in and out of your mouth with slow motions as your tongue brushes against him. Your lips open wider to accommodate him, hand on his thigh squeezing in encouragement.

Pleasure rushes to your core as Astarion’s hand fists harder in your hair, his hips moving faster now as he sets his pace, your moans around his cock spurring him on as he moves closer to your throat, eyes watering involuntarily with each thrust as he nears the back of your mouth. 

He hisses at the pleasure, at the sight of you letting him fuck your mouth however he pleases as your eyes flash upwards to meet his own, the beginnings of tears dusting your lashes as he pushes deeper into your warm mouth. 

Few things compare to the knowledge that Astarion is under your control like this, and you know he won’t last long as you breathe in through your nose, relaxing your throat for him to press as deep as he wants with a flutter of your lashes, stray teardrops falling onto your cheeks as you can only imagine the thoughts floating through his pleasure-addled mind. 

As Astarion looks down upon your form below him, taking him so very well, he can’t help but think that the deepest and darkest parts of him covet you like this always. Lips wrapped tight around his cock, unable to think of nothing but him as he fucks your mouth, your lips sealed around his cock. 

The beautiful blush of your lips, the crystal of your tears, the claret of your blood. 

All for him and him only.

He comes on your tongue with the thought, his spend going down your throat in hot, salty spurts. You swallow him greedily, intent on not wasting a drop as the hands in your hair tighten as Astarion’s hips buck into your mouth with abandon as you drink down his seed.

With a sigh the hand in your hair loosens as Astarion comes down from his high, your mouth still moving over his softening cock. You slowly pull off him, tongue licking at him as you go, collecting the remnants of his come off him before you let his length fall from your lips.

With one last swallow, you look up at him from your place on your knees, licking at a stray drop of his come that escapes your mouth. Astarion brushes his thumb against your closed lips, his eyes still hot with lust as your tongue darts out to lick at the fingertip.

With a nod of his head, Astarion gestures to your cloak where it lays long forgotten against the cold floors. With a coy smirk up at him, you bring your hands to the floor and crawl over towards the soft velvet. 

Astarion follows your every sway of your body as you move, and when you finally lay yourself down onto the cloak, back resting against the lush material, he follows. He wastes no time to lower himself above you, hovering, as he takes in the vision of you resting beneath him.

His Dark Consort. His blasphemous Queen.

He would do anything for you.

His eyes rove your naked form, burning the memory of the way the deep crimson of the cape highlights the color of your skin, the open yearning in your expression and complete submission to him into his mind to last the entirety of his eternal life.

Astarion finally touches your body, no longer satisfied with a simple gaze, a hand brushing back your hair from your face before making its way down your body. You let your legs fall open for him to continue his exploration, eagerly exposing your wanting center to him as he bends his head down, giving an experimental lick up your slit, collecting your wetness on his tongue.

“Do you want to come, my love?” You nod your head, a whine escaping at the promise in his voice. 

“Then I want you to make yourself come while I watch.” He releases your legs, moving to stand before making his way to his throne.

He sits down with the grace of a king, his gaze expectant on your naked body as you part your legs for him once more.

His words are unexpected but you waste no time, not willing to wait lest he decide to abandon your pleasure all together. A hand skates its way down your body, bypassing your aching breasts to go straight to your clit. You rub at your pearl with delicate fingers, your motions second nature as you let yourself fall headfirst into the feeling of pleasure as Astarion watches you from his place on his throne, his cock already hard again.

Your eyes fall shut as you continue your ministrations, head falling to the side as your pleasure drives higher and higher with every motion of your fingers. 

“Eyes on me, darling.” His words are hard, the command clear in his voice has your eyes opening fast and landing back on his form.

You watch Astarion where he sits, taking in the sight of him as your fingers continue drawing circles around your clit. He reclines back in his throne, a hand drawing lazy touches up and down his cock as his own eyes are fixated on your fingers at your most intimate area. 

With a breath your hand leaves your clit, moving further down to touch at your weeping entrance. 

If he wants a show, you will gladly give him one.

Without waiting, you plunge your fingers into yourself, pushing them as deep as you can. Your own are nothing compared to the length and elegance of his own, but they will have to do for now. You fuck yourself on your fingers, quickly adding a third in an attempt to recreate the feeling of Astarion’s own. 

Your fingers shine with your wetness, Astarion groaning at the sight of you fucking yourself like this, knowing you won’t last much longer at the rate you are going.

“Slow down, darling,” A smirk plays at his lips as he notes the shaking of your thighs. 

“You can’t come until I say so, and I’m not ready for this little performance to be over quite yet.” You whine at his command, but slow your fingers obediently, moving them inside you at a slower pace now.

Your fingers work diligently as your eyes don’t leave Astarion’s from where he sits some feet away. His attention on you only serve to drive you higher, those crimson eyes never leaving you.

Your legs widen so Astarion can better see your motions as your other hand comes up to palm at your breasts, fingers still moving in an easy rhythm that drives your higher and higher with every pass.

You know that he loves to see and watch you like this, and there is nothing you love more than leaning into that yearning, eager to let his dominance wash over you.

“A-Astarion, I can’t hold off much longer.” It takes effort to keep your eyes on him, trying to push off your orgasm as long as possible, thighs shaking once more with impending release.

“Let go, my love.” His permission feels like a balm, hand at your chest coming down to rub at your clit as the fingers inside you speed up their thrusts, intent to bring yourself to orgasm as fast as you can get there.

You had waited so long to finally be allowed to come, to get the pleasure you desired and deserved, and while you wish that it was Astarion’s hands instead of your own, you supposed beggars could not be choosers.

Your orgasm hits, limbs seizing and hips bucking against your fingers, head thrown back as a moan leaves your painted lips, back bowing with pleasure.

“Beautiful.” Astarion murmurs the words low, barely audible over your own moans as you come on your fingers, orgasm washing over you as you writhe on the floor in front of him.

Your body relaxes in the wake of your release, limbs loose against the cloak on the floor. You ease your fingers out of yourself with a slight wince, the digits soaked with your own come. You lay there for a moment, your senses coming back to you as your eyes finally open and glance back at your lover. 

“Come to me.” His words are expectant, and you force yourself to rise despite the pleasant exhaustion weighing down your limbs, walking to the throne and standing in between his knees as he spreads them to make room for you.

Astarion’s hand reaches out to grab your wrist, bringing the fingers that had filled your core to his own mouth before he wraps his mouth around them.

He licks at your come, tongue sliding against your fingers in a bid to collect all of your spend, intent on letting none go to waste. The feeling of his tongue on your fingers drives a wedge of heat right back to the spot between your legs, Astarion’s eyes never leaving your face as his tongue glides up and down your fingertips.

With one last motion, he sucks hard on your fingers before pulling his mouth away from your hand.

“Sit.” The command is simple as his hands grab at your waist, pulling you to him. 

Your knees land on either side of his hips, his cock brushing up against your empty core as Astarion’s lips finds your own.

His kiss is demanding, passion and control combined into a fiery thing that you answer with the same emotion, mouth opening to his tongue as it sweeps inside to taste.

You’re breathless when Astarion breaks this kiss, his lips moving to press kisses against your jaw.

“Turn around and face the doors, darling.” His smile is absolutely deviant as you obey his words without a second thought, excitement building at whatever he has in store for you.

Your body twists over his own, settling onto his lap as your bare back rests against his velvet doublet. His length presses against your slit like this, your come slicking the shaft. Astarion’s hands caress the curve of your waist as you lean back into him, your head turning to brush your lips over the skin of his neck in a light kiss.

The hands on your waist move further down your sides and over your legs, stopping at your knees to grip underneath each, lifting them up and over the armrests of the throne. Your breath catches in your throat at the slight burn in your thighs as your legs stretch open, every inch of your aching cunt on full display.

He bares you entirely like this, anyone who dares to walk by the open doors and look inside would see every bit of you. It’s a small blessing, you think, that any servants have long made themselves scarce once they realized the debauchery taking place.

“Such a good girl you are, darling, keeping yourself open for me like this.” The hands holding your legs move up to stroke at your thighs, before one wanders higher towards your center. Astarion drags his fingers through your wetness, fingers spreading your folds and collecting the wetness on his fingertips as he circles your clit.

His lips find the tender skin behind your ear at the moment two fingers push inside you, sliding in knuckle deep before pulling back out again.

“You put on such a good show for me, darling. I think you deserve a reward.” He kisses your neck, those fingers pushing in once more to massage at your inner walls.

Astarion is intent on building you back up to a frenzy, his years of knowledge of your body to press and rub against everywhere he knows will only bring you higher. 

He will always worship you, you who helped him rise to this new height, assisting so selflessly in handing him such power. It was the least he could do, to keep and covet you so tightly you could never want or dream of anything less than an eternity by his side.

The old Astarion could never care for you the way he does now, could never gift you such unimaginable riches—gowns of the finest silks and tulles, an endless supply of silvers and golds, jewels of unbelievable value. 

No, he couldn’t offer you even a fraction of what he can now. His poor excuse for companionship was all that he had to offer you back then.

You deserved better, and better was what he would give you.

“You’re a vision like this, darling, held open for me while I make you come.” He mouths at the skin of your neck, never slowing in his movements.

His fingers hook inside of you, pressing against your g-spot with relentless efficiency, your cries spurring on his motions. You can hear the sounds of your wetness with his every motion, can feel yourself dripping onto the soft leather of his covered thighs beneath you.

Your orgasm hits you without warning, that familiar warmth coursing through your veins Astarion’s fingers still press on the softness of your walls as your cunt constricts around them. You writhe in his lap, hips riding his hand as he presses kisses to your neck as his fingers continue their work. You whine at the sensations, body moving closer towards overstimulation after reaching your peak twice in such a short time.

Astarion grants you a moment to recover as his fingers slide out of you, hands instead moving to bring your legs down from their place over the chair as you pant listlessly against his chest, body still shaking from the pleasure he had given you.

“Please, fuck me.” Your words carry a certain softness in their desperation that has Astarion’s cock bobbing against your entrance once more as you move onto your knees above him, looking back over your shoulder to see him grabbing his cock as he positions it at your entrance.

You lower down eagerly to take him inside you in a smooth glide, ignoring the slight twinge of overstimulation as you press all the way down until your hips meet, a hiss leaving his mouth at the feeling of your warmth finally wrapped around him.

You moans fill the air together, Astarion’s hands finding your waist as you glide yourself up and down his cock, taking him deep with every motion downwards, hips grinding into his own when he bottoms out. His lips caress the skin of your spine and neck, one hand on your hip helping you move up and down him, the other buried in your hair, keeping it out of the way of his roaming lips. 

Astarion lets you move above him at your own pace, moaning into your skin as you work yourself on him, your hips undulating above him in a seductive dance as you take him deep on every slide down before gliding back up, barely keeping the head of him inside before you begin again.

Astarion’s grip on your hip tightens as he begins to guide you in harder motions that have you picking up speed, his fingers digging into your skin as the lips on your neck switch from kisses to light nips of his fangs. 

“Harder, Astarion.” Your words come out on uneven breaths as he thrusts deep, cries of pleasure falling from you open lips as he takes control. 

“Off, darling.” He pants, other hand moving to join the one at your hip as he moves you off his cock, your wetness coating it. 

On unsteady legs you move to stand by the throne as Astarion gets up behind you, his hands never leaving your body as he quickly directs you back. Your knees touch soft velvet as you move to kneel on the seat, hands grasping for purchase on the golden whorls as Astarion sheathes himself back inside you, hips sliding home on the first thrust. 

The carved gold bites into your palms as you hold on, legs widening for him to fuck you harder as his hands find their way to hold onto your hips, pulling your body back against his own as he fucks you with little delicacy.

Gone is the easy, sensuous pace of earlier, replaced by your mutual desperation for something harder. His cock is impossibly deep like this, hitting what feels like every nerve ending inside you with the pump of his hips.

A hand grips your hair and pulls your head back roughly as his teeth nip at your earlobe. 

“Is this what you wished for, my dear?” He whispers the words, hips snapping into yours. “To be fucked like a whore? On my throne, like this?”

You moan at his words, pussy clenching hard on his cock as his skin slaps into your own, the sound echoing against the elegantly carved wood ceiling.

“Oh, you like that, don’t you?” He chuckles into your ear as you gasp at a particularly sharp thrust, his mouth licking a stripe up your neck.

You deign not to answer him, knowing your body tells him everything he needs to know about that particular line of questioning.

His cock hits a particularly deep spot inside you, and you cry out at the sensation, pain and pleasure mixing headily in your veins. Your hands clutch harder onto the throne under you in an attempt to center yourself, efforts in vain as Astarion continues to fuck into that same spot near your cervix.

Your eyes roll back at the feeling of him so deep, wanton moans falling from your lips with abandon as pleasure streaks through body, burning brighter than the sun. 

“Will you bleed for me, sweet thing?” The words aren’t quite a question, more hypothetical in nature. You know he will take, and you are always willing to give to him, even after all these years. You nod your head regardless, as best you can with Astarion’s fingers still gripping in your hair, never mind his hard thrusts in and out of your body.

His lips fall against your neck, nose nudging against the skin there as his breath is hot where his lips caress the skin behind your ear. The hand in your hair loosens, allowing you to move your head further to side, baring more skin to his searching mouth in invitation.

He bites down, the fragile skin of your neck breaking like it has a thousand times over, your blood dripping down in rivulets as Astarion drinks you in. Your blood stains the diamonds and rubies around your neck, facets dancing with every push of Astarion’s hips against your own in the dim light.

Every suck of Astarion’s mouth against your neck brings you closer, cries falling as you both soar higher and higher towards your peak. His hips continue to move, never slowing in their rhythm as he drinks, blood continuing to drip down over the peak of your breasts before falling onto the gilded throne beneath you.

All it takes is a few more thrusts from Astarion before you come apart, body bucking against his own as he continues to suck at the flesh of your neck, every pull from his mouth bringing the pleasure higher as you crest wave after wave of our climax, white hot heat rushing over your senses. He works you through your orgasm, never slowing his pace as he fucks you through the height of it, allowing you to luxuriate in the euphoria.

Astarion follows shortly after you, the feeling of your cunt clenching hard against his own heat divine as he loses the final threads of his control. His hips press tight against your own as he empties himself inside of you with unrestrained moans as he extricates his fangs from your neck to press his brow against your shoulder, tongue licking at the spilled blood that runs down your body.

Astarion stays inside you, his cock softening as his come leaks from your joined bodies down onto the skin of your thighs, pressing kisses to your shoulder as your breathing slowly evens out. 

Finally he pulls himself from your center, helping you off the throne as he bends down to grab your discarded cape from the floor nearby. He settles it back around your shoulders as you lean against him, looking up into his eyes.

“What ever are we to do with you, darling?” He sighs the words in mock distress, a finger coming to lift your chin up towards him as he smirks.

“I suppose maybe I need to be better disciplined?” Your smile answers his own, voice coy as you toy with a button on his doublet.

“Then lead the way, pet, there’s still much I can teach you.” Your answering smirk is all the permission required as Astarion leads you to the bedroom, intent to make good on his promise before the night is done.

[redheadspark]

Hello!! Could I possibly request Rhys from ACOTAR with prompts #6 and #8?

Hope you’re doing well and taking care of yourself💜💜

A/N - This is cute for Rhsyand! Thanks for requesting this, anon!

Carry

Summary - Rhsyand would do anything to make you happy, including scaring your ex.

Warnings - a mix of angst and fluff

“Let me guess…..the meeting went well?”

You glare at your mate as he leans against the open doorframe into your personal study, watching you nurse a glass of wine and rest your elbows on the desk as you were rubbing your temples in both tiredness and frustration from earlier in the day.  With the moon hanging high in the night sky and the upcoming snow threatening to come from the mountains, River House was ready for winter.  Most of the house was already decorated for Winter Solstice, though you weren’t in the best of spirits thanks to your ex.  You had to have a meeting with him, you being the High Lady in Night Court and your ex being the Head of Security from Winter Court.  High Lord Kallias, though firm as a ruler and yet kind, wished to have his Head of Security accompany your meeting with his mate Viviane.  You and Viviane were on the best of terms, which was surprising to see your ex as the new hire.  Of course, Viviane knew nothing about your old relationship, and you never showed it throughout your meeting and the scheduling of upcoming events.  

It was when Vivian left the room when your ex decided to open his mouth.  That did it.

“No one was informed that Damon was the new hire, my dear,” Rhsyand reassured you as he walked into your office, grabbing a chair to pull behind him to sit next to you while you were looking over some of the documents that were perched on the desk, “it was only after you left that Kallias told me, and he sends his apologies for bringing you discomfort.”

“It wasn’t his fault,” You hummed, your eyes still scanning over the words to mostly distract yourself, “He had no clue that Damon and I used to be a couple, nor did he know that Damon was the one who broke it off with me,”

“His loss then,” Rhysand said with a shrug and a smirk on his lips, you looking over at him as he cocked his own head at you and his signature grin was evident, “I wished to see the look on his face when he saw you, the High Lady of Night Court,”

“I’d rather go through training with Cassian blindfolded than ever encounter him again,” You grumbled, Rhsyand tutted as he scooted a bit closer to where you were at your desk.  Breathing in the musky scent that was along his shirt, feeling his body heat along your own skin, it was already calming to you as he reached over to lace your fingers gently together on top of the desk.  He knew how to ground you when you were stressed out or not in the best headspace, he read you like a book and knew exactly how to take care of you.  Far before you were mates, which happened instantly after meeting each other when you fled Winter Court to Night Court, Rhysand knew your soul was beyond tender from past heartbreak and betrayal.  

“I’ll come with you next time if he’s there,” Rhysand reassured you as you glared at him.

“I can face my ex on my own,” You started to argue with him as he shook his head.

“That is not what I meant,” he hummed, you scanning his violet eyes as he squeezed your hands a bit tighter, “I merely wish to be there to take on some of the load that you carry, merely because you already have a lot on your plate as it is,”

“Rhys, I can handle it,” You reasoned, seeing him sigh and he leaned his shoulder against yours.  A small peck of his lips on your nose made him smile.

“Why do you always think you have to do everything on your own?” He asked you with a hint of coyness, “You know I’m here to help carry the load, both the light and the heavy load.”

“I know, my love,” You replied wholeheartedly, “I’m just….not used to letting someone else care of me,”

Rhysand knew of your past, being raised by your single mother and then living on your own for a good amount of time.  Food barely on the table and working long hours in the farm fields, then working just as hard on relationships that were only half fulfilled by your ex-partners.  Damon included, who was infatuated with a far prettier fae and left you for her because of it.  You always felt as though you had to carry heavy loads on your own, needing to face your own burdens and not have others take them on.

But being married to the High Lord of Night Court meant that your burden and work load instantly evaporated.  Rhysand made sure of that, from the moment you two were mates he made sure you never had to lift a single finger when it came to getting what you wanted or needed.  You were waited on hand and foot, much to your dismay, but that was Rhysand’s way of taking care of you and loving you.

Even after 600 years of marriage, he still loved you fiercely.

“You’ve always been strong for me,” Rhysand reminded you as he tucked a stray hair behind your hair with a simple bush of his finger, “Let me return the favor,”

That alone made you raise your brow at him, knowing fully well that your husband and mate must have had something up his sleeve. If there was one thing you knew about Rhysand, it was his great knack for brewing up a plan that could stir up a bit of drama.  Mostly for fun and for his amusement, but also for a purpose.  And if there was another thing that you knew about the High Lord of Night Court, it was his devotion to you.

If anyone crossed his mate, it was a death sentence.

“What did you have in mind?” You asked him, seeing him shrug simply as he took your wine glass to take a small sip.

“Leave it to your mate,” He replied as he handed you his glass again and gave you a small kiss on the lips.

“I’m glad we’re meeting again, Kallias.  We have much to discuss,”

“Of course, Rhsyand.”

You were sitting next to your husband as you were both in the meeting room at River House, the first snowfall hitting Velaris while the High Lord and Lady of Winter Court were on the opposite side of the table from you.  It was a few days after your talk to Rhysand.  In fact, he called the meeting with Winter Court the morning after when he made sure you were going to sleep in for the morning, clearing your schedule for the entire day, and then wishing to dote on you after he quick message to Kallias. 

You were wondering why he would wish to meet at your home, though he gave a brief explanation to debriefing the new Court negotiations and safety protocol, not to mention the Community Centers you and Viviane were in charge of in your respected Courts.  

But that also meant Damon would be in attendance.  You were already not looking forward to the meeting because of that, even though you loved the company of the High Lord and Lady of Winter Court and the details you were going to go over. But your mate, always a step ahead, had something up his sleeve. 

You were sporting a more casual dress for the meeting, one of the ones Rhysand gifted you for your birthday a century ago that showed off your curves and the highlights in your hair.  He matched in a dark suit himself, lacing your fingers together on top of the table with the stacked papers that were going to be discussed over while Kallias and Viviane were in their own Winter Court Tavel clothes.  

Damon in his leathers was right behind them, his hands folded behind him as he was perched in the corner and eyeing both yourself and Rhsyand.  You could sense the tensity in the room from his eyes going a bit wide at the appearance of Rhysand, there were whispers of his disbelief and slight discomfort years back when you and Rhysand became mates.  Viviane even said to you at your wedding ceremony that Damon seemed rather mad at the thought of you two being together, but that was merely the past.

You knew at that table that Rhysand had a motive with Damon, mostly because he crossed a line with his wife.

“I think we should go over safety with our borders,” Rhysand explained, you looked over at him as he was gesturing to the top of the stack of papers with his signature smile on his lips, “Although a lot of the Courts are at peace now since the war, there is always a slim chance of our safety being compromised.  With the allegiance that we have, I think we should stay a step ahead,”

“I have no problem with that,” Kallias hummed in reply, gesturing to Damon behind him, “Damon has recruited plenty more soldiers for our patrols,”

Damon gave a small tilt of his head as a friendly gesture to Rhysand, though he briefly looked over at you before he looked ahead again.  You felt Rhysand squeeze your hand gently, no one else noticing but you as your husband spoke up again.

“We are more than willing to have some of the Illyrian soldiers that are ready from our camps to come help with the training,” Rhysand suggested, “In fact, our Spymaster himself has some great ideas that he would love to talk over with Damon,”

As if on cue, you heard the door opening to the left, you all looked over to see Azriel coming into the room swiftly with his shadows attached to his tucked wings.  You felt the sense of tension heighten in the room, mostly from the Winter Court side of the table and from Damon himself. HIs body langue alone was stiffer than a few seconds before, his eyes drilled on the Spymaster as Azriel walked over to stand right behind you in your chair.  

You almost felt a lick of his shadows along your shoulder as his intense hazel eyes were on Damon, giving you a small sense of comfort as he was showing no sign of mercy to your ex.  Even Rhysand smiled widely, then talked to Kallias to start the meeting while Azriel and Damon were staring at each other with the table in the middle. Perhaps Rhysand was using this point now as a distraction for him and Kallias to start their meeting, your eyes drifting back and forth from him to Damon. 

You saw it instantly, Damon was sweating bullets.

Azriel was a friend to you, being your escort on court visits in the past and he had helped train you in some self defense skills. But the one thing you loved about Azriel was his loyalty to Night Court, specifically to Rhysand. They both had history since they were mere children, Azriel willing to go to the ends of the world for him.

Which meant he would do the same for you.

You were half listening to the meeting at hand, yet your mind was occupied elsewhere . Although you couldn’t see him since he was still standing right behind your chair, Azriel must have been giving Damon his infamous stare. The stare of intimidation, of power, of distinct knowledge he could kill him with a snap of the neck if he tried anything with his High Lady

Damon gulped. He got the message loud and clear

You had to smile, knowing fully well this was Rhysand’s doing.  You loved him ten times more.

The End.

[aristocratic-otter]

Hi all! It's so lovely to see so many people motivated by the fresh feeling of a new year. Thank you for sharing your work with me, @artsyunderstudy, @nausikaaa, @monbons, @thewholelemon, @roomwithanopenfire,

@whatevertheweather, @bookish-bogwitch, @martsonmars, @bookishbroadwayandblind, and @prettygoododds.

One thing I learned from reading everyone's year-end retrospectives: if I want to be more involved, I need to stop being such a perfectionist! I could have been posting every week, but I'd be kicking myself over not having finished a piece of every single WIP...and so I wouldn't post. I'm gonna challenge myself to just post, even if I only wrote one thing the previous week. So that said, it was a vacation week for me, so along with posting my gift fic for @facewithoutheart, A Very Zombie Christmas, I did actually do work on a lot of my WIPs, and you can expect updates on at least two of them this week.

So, here we go. As always, I absolutely did not bother to count six sentences:

From my 2023 COTTA, Snow Fox:

It took some convincing to get Penny and Mitali out the window and up onto the roof. Well, more Mitali than Penny. Neither woman much liked the fact that their petticoats and whatever other underthings women wear would be clearly visible from underneath the whole time they were climbing. 

Penny accepted it as a necessity with a grumble and an embarrassed flush, but Mitali truly balked at the idea. Finally, Pen suggested that I lower a loop of rope rather than an end of rope, and the women could sit in the loop and be hauled up. That resolved the whole ridiculous issue, and we had both women out of the house and onto the roof in short order. 

From my COBB with @cutestkilla: The Rat and the River

I’ve always wanted to be part of one of Snow’s famous ‘lunch meetings’.  Penelope’s told me about them. Simon thinks better with food, so all  information is shared and ideas are circulated over meals in Simon’s team. I used to wish to be British myself so I could join his team and take part in these comfortable meetings of minds. I love food and I love talk, especially talk about disease. What could be more enticing than spending time over sandwiches with the famous Snow’s angels? 

Especially one particular angel. 

From Tiktok Dancer:

Penny, Shep, Agatha and I are all staring at him, jaws hanging loose in our surprise at his unexpected eloquence and passion. Baz just sips on his fruity cocktail and smiles back at us demurely.

I suddenly realize how little I know about this man I’ve fallen head over heels for. And not knowing makes me itch—I can’t stand it.

“What dream are you pursuing?”  I blurt. 

Baz looks at me steadily, and I can almost see him revising his first answer in his head.

From my Visitor Baz AU: 

Baz is dead.

Baz is dead. 

I can’t understand it. The idea that Baz, my terrible roommate, will never snark at me from his desk across the room from mine again…that he’ll never use up all the hot water with his endless showers or wear his uniform in such a way that makes it look designer while all the rest of us look boring. He’ll never suck down a rat in the catacombs or earn the highest score on a Magic Words exam. 

Baz is dead. 

From Saving Simon Snow (I’ve got to reread this one to get my mojo back on it, I think. But here’s six new shortish sentences):

In all our years of cohabitation, I’ve never seen Simon truly lose his temper with Bunce. With me, certainly. Hundreds of times. In the Catacombs, he was irritable and defiant. But now? The moment Bunce grabs hold of his arm, Simon goes off. 

 From CORB #1, Baby Mine with @argumentativeantitheticalg

His voice takes on that haughty, lecturing tone I used to hate so much. Or at least that I used to think that I hated. It made me want to slam him against the wall and get in his face. 

I think I maybe just wanted to get my face on his face. Why was I so fucking stupid?

I’m lost in rumination on my own failings when the rise in volume from the crib and the pointed clearing of Baz’s throat both bring me back.

From CORB #2: The Stoves Come On At Night, with @ebbpettier

I wake up.

For several seconds, I blink groggily into the early morning light. I try to catch at the wisps of the dream I was having, but they’re fading. 

I can’t have been asleep for more than a couple of hours. Like I’d planned, I’d slept a few hours last night and then got up at three a.m. Three hours later, after I’d finished a sketchy patrol, I headed back to bed as the first rays of the sun were just breaking over the horizon. 

It can’t be more than 8 am now. What on earth woke me up? Even if I can’t really remember it, I’d been having such a pleasant dream…

Suddenly, I realize that the annoying buzzing sound I hear is an alarm–the fire alarm!

Tags and howdies to: @chen-chen-chen-again-chen, @dragoneggos, @erzbethluna, @palimpsessed, @fatalfangirl,

@melodysmash, @moments-au-crayon22, @moodandmist,  @mostlymaudlin, @onepintobean,

@raenestee, @tea-brigade, @upuntil6am, @whogaveyoupermission, @carryonsimoncarryonbaz,

@krisrix, @shemakesmeforget, @confused-bi-queer, @nightimedreamersghost, @mooncello,

@shrekgogurt, @cosmicalart,  @theearlgreymage, @iamamythologicalcreature, @ileadacharmedlife,

@thehoneyedhufflepuff, @facewithoutheart, @thewholelemon, @skeedelvee, @ivelovedhimthroughworse

@messofthejess, @best--dress, @noblecorgi, @alexalexinii,  @hushed-chorus, 

@rimeswithpurple, @blackberrysummerblog, @cutestkilla, @letraspal, @you-remind-me-of-the-babe,

@wellbelesbian, @ic3-que3n, @emeryhall, @larkral, @youarenevertooold,

@j-nipper-95, @ebbpettier, and @argumentativeantitheticalg

[jelzorz]

202.

Corvus considers himself to be a pretty good tracker. He's just always been good at noticing the little things: broken twigs and disturbed soil and changes in the calls of native birds and such; things that take practise to see and an amount of training to hear. It's not that surprising, honestly, that he notices the change in Soren's behaviour before Soren ever does himself.

It's been how long now? Eight? Almost nine years? Terry's been with them for seven of those, and they've been out and about and adventuring the whole time so of course he notices the way Soren's eyes have started to wander whenever they're in Katolis.

It's subtle at first: a little smile here, a lingering touch there, the slightest pink in his cheeks whenever he and Opeli find themselves sitting next to each other in a meeting or at a meal. Corvus says nothing about it because it's not his place to say, and Soren is happy, which matters more than the little sting of jealousy that creeps unwantedly into his chest. He'd caught himself once hoping she'd just turn him down and had hated himself a little for it: Opeli is his friend too, and cleric or not, she deserves happiness just the same. If whatever is happening between them brings them joy, then Corvus would be remiss in wishing for anything else.

It's better now. He's grown used to it, and there's always something about the castle and its surrounds that Terry wants to know, so Corvus obliges him, and it's nice to hang around and just talk, no mission, no recon, no silly jokes.

Today is the same. The Yule season has settled over the city comfortably, and the festival the common folk throw every year is in full swing. The air is cold but it smells like cinnamon and spun sugar, the trees are lit with twinkling balls of Sunfire magic, the snow is soft and piles like pillows on every available surface, and Soren is wheedling Opeli (as always) to join them for the evening festivities.

Corvus hides his smile because they all know the answer is yes. Opeli has never had any resolve when it comes to Soren, and the facade of being stern and unyielding stopped fooling the three of them years ago, but it's Terry who intervenes.

"Actually, Corvus and I were thinking about going to the river," he says. "I was told I'd get to learn how to skate this year."

Opeli raises an eyebrow at Soren. "Then I can't very well tag along, can I?"

Soren flounders, very poorly disguising his disappointment. "What—I mean—Did I say that?"

"Oh, you didn't," says Terry. "Corvus did. Remember?"

"Um." Corvus' cheeks warm, because yes, he did, weeks ago, and he's somewhat ashamed that he'd forgotten. "Yes. Of course."

"Problem solved then," says Terry, clapping his hands. "You two enjoy the festival. We'll see you when you get back."

Opeli flushes a little. Soren flushes a lot.

"Oh," says Opeli. "I was under the assumption I'd be joining all of you."

"We're here for the month," says Terry, waving her off. "We can hang out anytime. Go have fun."

Soren flushes more. "You mean, like. Alone? At a festival?"

"Yeah," says Terry, giving him a look. Corvus has to fight back a laugh. "Is that a problem?"

"Of course not," says Opeli primly, her recovery always graceful. "I suppose I'll go and get my cloak." She eyes Terry suspiciously as she rises, but she touches Soren's arm before she goes. Soren mouths a thank you at Terry when she's not looking and offers them both a grin and a thumbs up.

He follows her to the stairwell leaving Corvus and Terry alone at the table, and they glance at each other and burst into laughter at once. The air is warm. Corvus' cheeks are sore from smiling all night. Terry leans back in his chair, his elbow brushing lightly against Corvus' arm.

"You'd think they were teenagers," snorts Terry.

"They're doing their best," says Corvus. "And y'know, strictly speaking, it's a little more complicated than how it looks, Opeli being a cleric and all but. Yes. They're ridiculous."

"You'll still teach me to skate though, right?"

"Yes, of course," chuckles Corvus heartily. "We can go now if you like."

"I would like that," says Terry, getting up. He grins at Corvus, and for a moment the world stills, and Corvus feels his heart do something funny, something unexpected, and when Terry touches his arm, it does it again.

Oh, he thinks. That's new. Or has it been something that's been happening for a while?

Corvus finds he doesn't know.

Perhaps there are little things he doesn't notice. Perhaps that's not so bad.

[pinksugarscrub]

Guts

Hobie Brown x fem! spider! reader

Late octobie submission, prepare to be amazed

Event by @the-kr8tor Banner by @the-shroom-garden

Special thank you to @hyperfix-wip for being my number one pookie and beta reader 💙❤️

word count: 1,707

parts: 1, 2

cw: cursing and general shenanigans

~

F.E.A.S.T. has been a part of your life since you could remember. It’s where you met Peter Parker, your Peter Parker. In his prime with more than a dozen job applications while you were halfway through high school.

Now your roles are reversed with Peter leading the Emily-May foundation alongside Harry Osborn and you finishing your first year of college. Things couldn’t be better. Not that you would say that out loud. Peter is superstitious and now you’re starting to believe him after Doctor Connors turned himself into…well a lizard.

The smell of pumpkin permeates the air. Small candles lit and fixed across all of the plastic tables you helped setup just this morning. It makes your nose twitch and a headache soon appears but you don't have the heart to tell May.

There are artificial leaves hanging from the ceiling along with streamers. A tree trunk made of packing paper and tape in the corner. Notes with something everyone is thankful for along with a few polaroids. All in all the day is shaping up to be great!

Denial is a river in Egypt.

“Hun, don’t you have a paper due tonight?” May asks. Concern etching her face as she catches you mid-errand.

“What? No-” you wheeze. Pretending to struggle with the boxes in your hands when another volunteer walks by. It turns out to only be Peter. Who makes short work of taking the boxes off your hands. Always a gentleman.

“Here, let me help!”

“Your protege is stretching herself thin again Peter.” May tsks.

Peter shifts the boxes of clothing just under his chin. A knowing look on his face that sometimes you wish you could just squash under your shoes. 

“Is it the battle of the bands? You’ll do great junior, it’s nothing you can’t handle.”

“That’s today?” May gasps.

“Would everyone just-” Your voice raises in irritation and it immediately deflates as you catch May and Peter exchange a look. “I’m fine. I just need a break. Sorry.”

Peter’s eyes follow you as you stuff your hands in your pockets and storm up the steps.

“All yours Pete.” May sighs. Patting his back and sending him off with her prayers.

When Peter finds you, your eyes are rimmed with red and your fingers are fidgeting like they always do when you’re anxious. 

He can remember finding you in the same place and predicament when he first started mentoring you. 

Peter has never really thought of himself as this great hero. Even after seeing Spider-Man themed sneakers and branded t-shirts (He hasn’t seen any of the revenue from that by the way).

Peter just happens to be at the right place at the right time. Granted he chose to be someone the neighborhood could rely on but greatness wasn’t something he was used to being described as by anyone other than his close friends and May. 

To have to live in his shadow was something he couldn’t quite comprehend until you voiced your bubbling insecurities to him. You were such a small thing then. Still trying to find your way in the world and become Spider-Woman .

Since then this rooftop,in and out of costume, has become the center of uncomfortable conversations and warm embraces that fill a space in Peter’s heart that he wasn’t even aware he had. You were his family now. With Mary Jane and Harry. It was a weird conjunction of people but a happy one nonetheless.

Peter holds onto the door until it quietly locks back into place. You don’t move but he’s sure you’ve noticed him. He stands until you quietly ask him to sit and for a while it’s silent. Peter knows you like it that way. You’re such an analytical kid.

The city streets are as noisy as ever. It’s New York. But the leaves are a vibrant array of orange, yellow, and red. The air is cold and the sky is gray.

“I’m sorry,” you apologize again.

“No sweat.” Peter smiles. Glancing over before squeezing your shoulder. “How are you feeling?”

You snort, “cold.” Wrapping your thin sweater tighter around your body to make a point. “I forgot my jacket.”

“I can see that,” he laughs. Then it’s quiet again except for his shuffling as he sets his jacket over your shoulders. 

“You did a great job with the decorations.” He tries to veer the conversation in a different direction. You aren’t ready to talk yet.

“It’s just colored paper.”

“Ah there’s only room for one self deprecating person on this roof and that’s me. Get your own gig.”

You laugh and finally look up from your scarred hands. Freshly healed from a run in with Rhino. 

Peter smiles wider. That goofy smile that MJ fell in love with when they were just sixteen. You will die before ever admitting you once found him cute. You will also take to your grave the massive crush you had on Spider-Man before getting bit. What? You were fourteen!

“What about depression?” You quip. “Anxiety is a good candidate too.”

“How about something positive for once.”

“Anxiety is positive. It keeps me alive.”

“Alright, something serotonin inducing,” he corrects himself.

“Arson.”

“That isn’t illegal.”

You sigh loudly and slump against the wall. “Fine. Uh…what about being stuck up? That’s free and still mildly annoying.”

“Mildly?” He chokes out a laugh. “I beg to differ. What about being a know it all?”

You wave your hand dismissively. “Too basic.”

You stare at one another before bursting into laughter. His arm comes up to bring you into his embrace. 

Peter knows how to give good hugs. You’ve deduced this after watching him console civilians. Just the right ones too and Peter always smelled distinctly of soot and ash. Like he can never quite separate Spider-Man from Peter Parker.

“What is it?” He asks after seeing your expression slowly sink back into sadness.

What was it? Was there a simple answer? Everything felt congealed into one. Gooey and sticky until you were left with a multicolored wad of gum. You suppose that’s the best answer you can give Peter.

“It’s everything.” You exhale. Shoulders slumped as you look back to your clammy palms. “College admissions, the band, today’s dinner.”

You drown further into his much too large jacket. You could stay in it forever if it meant not having to face reality.

“What’s worrying you the most. Let’s start there.”

You scrunch your nose and ponder over the list of things weighing on your mind. One sticks out like a thorn in your side no matter how hard you try to think about graduation or what to wear tonight. The show.

“Remember Hobie?” 

Peter perks up. “Yeah, of course. We’re meeting him today along with…Gwen and Pavitr, am I saying that right?”

If it wasn’t for the fact your stomach was in knots you would have teased him for taking so long to remember.

“Yeah, Pav works too.”

Peter parrots the shortened version of Pavitr’s name under his breath. Mentally storing that information so he can make a good impression on your friends.

A deep breath leaves your chest as you tap on your knee. “I want him, especially him, to think I’m cool. Is that weird?”

Peter shakes his head. “Not at all. I mean, talk to MJ. There is no shortage of embarrassing stories about me trying to impress her.”

“Yeah,” you chuckle. “Like the time you ate it in the cafeteria when you were trying to catch up to her. Or the time-”

“Ok, ok!” Peter sputters. Face growing hot as he relives the most devastating moment of his life. “Jeez, are you trying to kill me?”

“It would make this process go a lot faster,” you joke.

“Right, feelings stink.”

“Suck Peter. They suck.”

“Same thing,” he argues.

“No it isn’t Mary Poppins- can I finish now?”

Peter raises one hand in surrender while the other remains on your side.

“Thank you,” you huff. Lips twitching as you fight the urge to smile. 

Thinking over your friendship with Hobie—that you’re hoping will evolve into something more—there is one thing he has an adamant distaste for and that’s capitalism. 

And, well, no your band doesn’t make million dollar record deals but the genre of music is so generic not even you can keep from making fun of the four chord pop songs you make.

However after spending more and more time with Hobie you started to see the stark differences in why you both create music. You can’t help but think Hobie might not be able to see past it. You almost feel like a wolf in sheep’s clothing. A poser, a fraud.

But you love music. Your songs are a mix of a little bit of everything in that they aren’t one in the same. Stemming from your background, your bandmates, and what’s popular now. You don’t stick to just one thing. But what if that doesn’t impress him?

Punk is a form of expression against oppression while pop is an innovation of style and skill. Moreover focused on presentation. Hobie plays for freedom while you play for a different kind.

“Well,” Peter began, “I’m no expert but from what I’ve heard-”

You roll your eyes as he fakes an english accent. It’s horrible. Like scratching your nails against a chalkboard.

“-he sounds like a pretty great guy. I almost want to marry him.”

That you can agree with.

“I doubt he’d ever break up a friendship over something so trivial in the grand scheme of things.” Peter considers there’s a slim chance he will. Slim. So he continues. “If he does. You and I can cry over a box of oreos.”

“Cookie dough,” you correct. On the verge of tears as you smile. Not for yourself but for Peter.

You never received ‘you’re being ridiculous’ or ‘you’re overreacting’ from Peter. He never sugar coated anything either. He would make a great dad someday.

“We’re getting through this together. Whether you win or lose. You’ve always got me.” His voice softened. “Ok squirt?”

Air escapes Peter’s lungs as you barrel into his chest. Clutching onto his battered ‘the mitochondria is the powerhouse of the cell’ shirt until your knuckles turn white. 

“Thanks Pete.”

[thatone-brightstar]

The Bear & The Fox (Carmy Berzatto x Fem!Reader)

Chapter 3: Pin a Fox skin to the wall, call it decoration

Words: 4.9k

Summary: With a few drinks in, you both confess your feelings. But there's always something getting in the way.

a/n: I am the gift that keeps on giving! So here's the next chapter cuz I feel shitty just leaving it in my documents and you all have been so nice! Enjoy! xx

P.S. Reader is Latina in this, so there's gonna be melanin for daysss.

“How much longer do you think you're gonna be?!” Syd yelled at her phone through the noisy bar.

Everyone was on a different wave of conversation, ranging from sports to food to whatever new show they were hooked on. The buzz of chatter around them combined with the pulsing music and lack of food in his system was enough to create a growing migraine in Carmy’s head. He gladly took a swig of the beer in front of him to dumb out the increasing sensation as he waited for Syd to hang up on you. He thought their reaction to joining them would be one of distaste or discomfort but his first drink had been on Sweeps, who was glad to finally see him outside the perimeters of The Beef. 

“I like what you’ve done to the place.” He said after finishing the second beer. “But you gotta lighten up, man. Rome wasn’t built in a day. Also you could use a tan. Try going out in the sun every once in a while!” He joked and a genuine laugh had left Carmy’s lips for the first time in forever.

“She’s on her way!” Sydney yelled to the table and everyone acknowledged it before returning to their conversations.

“Does she know I’m here?” He asked her over the noise, a bit concerned whether he wanted to know the answer or not.

“Yeah! I told her we’re all here!” She answered and of course she would tell you, because as far as they were concerned, nothing out of the ordinary had happened between you two.

His hand began to grow clammy and he took another hefty swig of the amber liquid to try and calm the nerves down. At least the music was loud enough to drown out the sound of his thoughts, he'd have to make due with that for now. The chatter transitioned into anecdotes about the stupidest things they had done as teens and they spent the next ten minutes debating whether Angel stealing single batteries from the family packs at Walmart counted as kleptomania or not. By his third beer, he felt his shoulders lose a bit of the perpetual weight that had been sitting on them since he had arrived back in Chicago; the music felt more bearable, his laughs lighter and his nerves almost down to a hum. 

They had been lucky enough to get a booth table by the windows, the sight of River North’s night life was in full bloom behind the old stained glass and his eyes wandered to the new perspective he had been granted of the old neighborhood. Between neon signs and moving cars he saw you from afar. Standing patiently for the little human to move on the crosswalk light. You looked like a radiant ray of moonlight, with loose curls framing your face like a dark halo and even though he had found you absolutely beautiful with your paint splattered overalls, this was something entirely different, something that would have him losing his balance if he wasn’t already sitting down.

He watched you move your boot-covered feet closer towards the bar, and with each stride on the long skirt, the slit up your thigh revealed a glimpse of lovely tan skin with swirling designs he had known no existence of until then, but now wanted to discover more of. Golden rings contrasted against the black jacket covering your arms as you raked your fingers through your hair and turned towards the window where he had shamelessly been gawking at you. A small smile covered your previous serious features and you waved nervously before disappearing through the entrance.

He shuffled in his seat and wished he would have at least run some water through his hair before leaving, but looking around at everyone’s post work attire, he figured he’d be fine. A cheer of ‘Hey's was heard through the group as you approached the table and you made a little dance once you reached them. You scooted into the booth beside the edge by Carmy and threw a nervous smile in his direction.

“Sorry I’m late! Two fuckin Ubers canceled on my last minute. I swear I was about to start walking!” You yelled exasperated.

“Well you’re already two drinks behind so start catchin’ up!” Marcus said, calling the waiter over and ordering another round of beers and a double  shot of tequila for each one.

“Oh it’s gonna be like that then, huh?!” You asked him with raised brows and a smile.

“Uhh, yeah!” He mimicked you in a pitched valley girl accent and the table roared in laughter.

They went around talking about their day and how Richie, as he does, had death threatened Fak for suggesting he should go to anger management classes. Your shoulder rubbed alongside Carmy’s in the small booth as you laughed at their stories and the friction along with your delicate perfume was making it hard to concentrate on anything at all. He took a couple of fries from the dish at the center of the table to keep his mouth occupied as he listened to Syd and you argue about the best contestant in a new baking show you were both watching. 

The shots came with cheers, and as everyone took the small glass in one hand and a lemon wedge in the other, they went around the table to say something they cheered for,

“I’m thankful that I got tomorrow off so I can get as hammered as I want!” Cheered Sweeps and it was followed by a choir of Boo’s from everyone.

“I guess I'm thankful that I got a job that I actually like.” Marcus continued and the Boo’s turned to Aw’s.

“And I’m very thankful for you, bunch of idiots.” You finished shily and only Marcus, who was sitting across from you, noticed your eyes linger a little too long on Carmy.

Their little glasses clinged against one another and everyone downed the transparent liquid with a scrunched face. 

The conversations broke into groups again, and he took his shot at catching your attention before anyone else. He gently bumped his shoulder against yours while he took a sip of alcohol for courage. From his side view he saw you had turned up to look at him and noticed you swallow hard scanning his features. When he turned to you, a soft smile covered your face and it was hard not to smile back.

“Hey” You whispered, bumping your shoulder back to his softly.

“You..um, you look really nice.” He said leaning towards you so you could hear him better above the music, and also so no one else would  notice his words. 

His breath ghosted over the skin of your ear and you were thankful for the jacket covering your already bumpy skin.  

“Thank you.” You whispered, cheeks warm.

“Look, I’m sor-“ 

“I’m sorry for-“

You interrupted each other, then laughed waiting for the other to continue. 

“You go.” You insisted.

He breathed in deep and turned his torso towards you to give himself a false sense of privacy in the crowded space. “I’m really sorry If I made you feel uncomfortable… back at the office.” He started and his eyes jumped between yours trying to decipher your thoughts through your expressions. “That was not cool and kinda creepy and I don’t want you to go because of me-”

“Wait-”

“You’re a great addition to the team, honestly one of the best, you’re good at calming Richie when he gets stressed and you're fast and precise, and you're good for me too-” He kept rambling, his gaze now focused in his hands.

“Carmy-” You tried to interrupt again with no avail.

“And I’d hate for you to leave cause I’m an impulsive jackass and I wouldn’t know what to do if I.. couldn’t see you.. anymore.” He finished swallowing hard, his eyes dragged slowly from his hands to your features and he grew scared of the confession that had left his mouth under the rambling.

All his words separately meant something different, they meant a thank you, a praise, a gentle pat on the back. But not like this, not all together, jumbled and tied with a string of revelation that there might be something more than what he was saying. He saw your chest raise with the motion of a heavy breath and your eyebrows were scrunched in concentration over his face. The background noise had been covered over by the thumping of blood rushing to his head and for a second his heart stopped at the idea that he had dug himself a deeper grave than he had wished for. He stared back at your eyes unable to look away, the ‘Fuck it’ from a couple hours ago now sour on his tongue.

“Do you wanna talk outside?” You whispered leaning forward so he could hear you, brows still knotted together.

You didn’t wait for his answer as you reached down to his tightly clasped hands and wedged your fingers carefully to get them to separate. You held on tightly then began to slip out the booth telling everyone you were gonna get more drinks for the table, before getting lost in the sea of bodies standing around. He let you guide him through the free spaces between the swaying crowd of drunks as he did his best to calm the growing anxiety in his chest. All he could concentrate on were your delicate fingers brushing softly around his hand.

This is what he wanted, right? This is why he had come knowing you would be here, to tell you how he felt, to clear things up, and since the cat’s head was already out the bag, might as well let the rest of the body out. 

‘Let it rip’ his brother’s words danced in his mind and he smiled humorlessly at how they teased him with how easy it sounded to do so.

**********

Fuuuck. You had not planned this far ahead. At least not this early into the night. You expected to do this with maybe another three drinks in your system, when you could still hold a serious conversation without crying for getting rejected cause the voice in your head would slur that it was his loss and that you were still a bad bitch. It also didn’t help that you had smoked a bit while getting ready and the cloudy haze around your brain had not subsided. You were coherent, yes, which was important, however you were not very good with your self control and with the way your throat had closed up at the sight of his profile while he simply took a drink, god you knew this was gonna be hard. 

His confession still swam in the swampy waters of your foggy brain as you pulled both of you through the crowded space. Your hand was tightly wrapped around what you could hold of his and when you finally spotted an exit, your heart leaped in your chest at the idea of how the conversation would go. The emergency door stood tall between the bathroom entrances, an inaudible creek vibrated through the metal as you pushed yourself against it and a cold breeze of air welcomed your face when you both stepped out into the alley. You expected a few smokers to linger around, but then again many who did choose to smoke did it in front of the place, not the side alley like rats; so you were alone. Great.

You finally let go of his hand, a cold absence replacing it, then leaned against the wall in front of the metal exit, staring at him. He took a cigarette from the packet inside his jacket and lit it, mimicking your actions by the door. He took a couple calming drags while both of you thought about what you were gonna say next. 

You could play this two ways: One. Pretend like you hadn’t understood what he said at the booth and say the whole office thing had been a misunderstanding. A little gaslighting wouldn’t hurt, right? It was for your own good anyway, the both of you. The pessimist in you was sure Carmen didn’t know what he was getting into and he already had enough problems trying to get the restaurant off the ground to add yours to the mix. 

And two, Tell him how you felt, fuck the rule. You had known him long enough to know he wasn’t the type of guy you established the rule for in the first place. He was nothing similar to the mutherfuckers you had met in your other jobs, he was nice and patient and cared more about others than he liked to admit; and for fuck’s sake if the bar was already on the floor, finding someone like that and also have him be hot, was not a common occurrence. 

You took your eyes off your boots scraping the pavement to look at him. ‘Why is he so hot and so miserable?!’ you thought as you watched him with his cigarette, the gloss in your eyes making any source of light into twinkling stars. His eyes met yours and normally you would avert your gaze. Normally, however, you would not be in this situation and normally you would not be feeling this angry all of a sudden. 

“You thought I was gonna leave?” You asked. ‘Solid start’.

“I thought I freaked you out.” He shrugged. “You walked out on me.”

“Yeah, and how did you expect me to react?” You respond a little more defensive than you intended. 

“Look, I know it was fucked and I’m sorry, okay? I just-” He took another drag to calm himself down then looked back at you, ocean eyes harboring a storm. “I don’t know what happens to me… when you're around. You make my chest not hurt as much and I- It feels easier to breathe with you.” 

You stayed silent, staring at him through hooded eyes and heavy breaths, trying to keep your mind clear because how could you concentrate on anything when he spoke so sweetly about you? You had to keep reminding yourself that this was for the best. Around you, the low rumble of the music vibrating past the walls could still be heard, like a distant world existing outside your current bubble of angst.

“Wh-what did you mean?” He asked after a long silence and he noticed the confusion in your blank stare. “When you said you needed to get me out your system, what was that?” 

Carmy noticed the subtle change in your expression, how your shoulders tensed and you diverted your gaze to anything else but him. You wanted to shout that it meant exactly that, he was so deep in your thoughts that some days you had caught yourself shamelessly daydreaming about the two of you together, in any way possible. But the last rational part in your brain held your tongue from speaking, you couldn’t say it, there was too much at risk to do so and he was not helping with the way his words were making your chest swell. You were getting angry because this would be so much easier if he was just another asshole. 

You shrugged looking at him. “Nothing, i-it just came out.” ‘Gaslighting it is.’ 

He exhaled a humorless laugh, his eyes still trained on you. “You’re a shitty liar, you know that?” He said with a last drag of his cig before flicking it to the ground and stomping on it.

He raked a hand through his hair and shameful observation had taught you that this meant Carmy was getting stressed.

“Okay, fine! You wanna know?!” You finally spat with anger, “Because I fuckin’ like you, Carmen!” You raised your arms in exasperation. “Because you have no fuckin’ idea what it does to me when you look at me like-like that!” His gaze was fixated on you, head slightly tilted down and to the right, jaw tensed. His brows dropped lower in a scowl and a jolt of lightning traveled down your back at his expression.

“And why didn’t you say anything!” He yelled back.

“Oh, seriously?! What did you want me to say? I need two roast beef sandwiches, hold the peppers and FYI Carmy, I got a crush on you?!”

“How the fuck was I supposed to know then?!” He said in frustration, taking a step closer to you and the height difference was significantly more noticeable when he wasn’t shrinking into himself.

“You weren’t supposed to, that’s the fuckin’ point!” His shoulders fell slightly and the strength in your voice lowered. “I just... needed to get over you and you’d never know. Get you out my system with someone else and never have to mention it.”

Carmy tried to ignore the flashes of your rosy cheeks and short breaths, panting under someone else. ‘This is not the time.’ he reminded himself.

“So, what? You were just gonna leave me believing I did somethin’ wrong to you when you actually liked me?”

“I wasn’t gonna leave.” You whispered. The words get caught on your tongue and you take a deep breath before continuing.

“But the last time I liked someone at my job it… It didn’t turn out right.” You struggle to calm your racing thoughts, his eyes a distracting lighthouse guiding you back in. His brows knitted together. “I don’t wanna go through that again, Carmy” You said defeated.

“You don’t know if it’s gonna be the same.” His voice pleaded just above a whisper, lower than you were used to when it came to him or his cousin.

“I don’t think I can risk it.” You whispered back, doing your best to keep the tears under control.

You were both silent for a while, until Carmy began to shake his head slowly.

“No, no, no you don’t get to do that, okay? You don’t get to tell me you like me then immediately blow me off cause some asshole in the past hurt you.” He took the last two strides in your direction, his chest now so close you could feel the heat radiating from his body.

You pushed yourself against the wall from the sudden proximity. Your breath seized in your lungs as you felt both his hands cup the sides of your face and tilt it up to stare deep into the pits of your eyes. You swallowed hard at all the scenarios flashing through your head, the turn of events giving you whiplash. He lowered his forehead slowly to yours, your eyelashes fluttered trying to close, but your eyes were fixed on his. Carmy’s face was so close, you could feel the heat off his breath. The smell of tobacco that lingered around you and mixed with the smokey wood scent that seemed to cling to him after a long workday, had your head grasping onto the last threads of self control left in  you.

“Tell me to stop. Tell me to stop and I’ll do it, I’ll never touch you again or mention it, I promise.” He rambled, a soft desperation clear in his voice. “I won’t even look in your direction but please, please don’t ever think for a second that I would do anything to hurt you.” He whispered.

Even in the darkness of the alley, you could tell his irises had swallowed the last drop of blue, now so dark and glossy you could see your own despair reflected back to you. You swallowed hard to get rid of the cottonmouth and his eyes flickered towards your lips for less than a second. ‘God, why couldn’t you just say yes?!’ Your head screamed at you through the dissipating smog of weed and untampered emotions.

He had not only given you his heart on a golden platter, but had plated it himself and set the table for you, too. Now it was solely your decision if you wanted to take it or not, if you wanted to guard his heart next to yours for safekeeping or let it finish crumbling on the grime covered pavement. You stared at his features in contemplation and scanned your brain for all the ways it told you this could go wrong. And yet, even after a thousand scenarios came up, you held in protective arms the few ones that bloomed a warm excitement in your chest. You wanted to, even if it was just this once, to be fearless, jump into the unknown regardless of the outcome. You truly did.

“It’s not that easy.” You whispered, shutting your eyes to avoid the look of hurt haunting over his. His hands faltered their grip on your face and soon a cold rush of air replaced the warm contact.

You reopened your gaze to see him standing with his hands now resting on the brick beside your head, defeated. His stare was glued to his tattooed skin, not even daring to look directly at you anymore and you knew, he was withdrawing back to the depths of his mind where one goes when you’ve been completely shattered. You could see his jaw tense up, probably in anger and he was well in his right to be so. He had bared his feelings to you and you had massacred them all over the walls in less than five words. ‘It’s better like this.’ You tried to convince yourself.

“I’m so sorry Carmy, but I-I can’t-”

He cleared his throat then pushed himself back with enough force that it almost felt like he had pulled on an invisible string against your chest.

“No- uh, no I get it.” he sniffled “You’re right, it’s better this way.” He did his best to avoid your gaze, settling it on anything around the empty alley. “I’m gonna go buy the drinks and then head home.”  He said walking back to the door.

You watched still from your position by the wall how he reached for the handle pulling the metal open. An immediate rumble of bass surrounded the once empty area as Carmy walked halfway in then stopped. He slightly turned his head in your direction, eyeing you over his shoulder.

“Don’t-uh.. don’t worry about.. this.” He said to you over the music. “I meant what I said about not sayin’ anythin’.” He rose his head to the sky for a couple seconds then back down. “So, don’t worry about it.” The gravel under his feet groaned as he turned to look at you one last time, “See you at work, chef.”

He was gone with a slam of the door. You stayed motionless, fixated on the space his body had occupied only seconds before. The ghost of his touch still tingled on your face and it took you an unspeakable amount of strength to not break down for the second time that day. It was already atrocious enough that you had committed what was probably the second worst mistake of your life by letting him go, but if you let yourself fall apart in a dingy unlit back alley of some bar, you have truly found a point lower than you thought possible. So with a very, very shaky breath and with the vast expertise as a teen with an overprotective mother, you pulled yourself together, sniffled back the tears and made your way inside ready to pretend like the last fifteen minutes had never happened.

When you reached the booth with your friends, a tray of five shots sat untouched on the table and a sour taste invaded your mouth to see the sixth had been downed and turned upside down at the end of the tray. 

“Carmy said your mom called, is everything okay?” Sydney asked as soon as you were in earshot, the pit in your stomach grew again  because even after hurting him, he still considerate enough to cover for your absence.

“Uh… yeah she’s fine. Just wanted to know when I’d be back.” You lied as you slid back into the booth.

With no hesitation, you reached for one of the glasses and downed it straight, no lemon. Syd gave a confused look to your expressionless face and even reached for one of the glasses to prove it was actually alcohol when you were laughing at Angel and Macus’ arm wrestling.

The liquid burned a distracting path down your throat and kept your attention diverted enough from the emotions you knew you’d have to figure out when the fog had lifted. For now, at least you would allow yourself to play with the idea that everything was fine and that your chest wasn’t shattering with every whiff of his lingering scent that permeated on your jacket.

The rest of the night was a blur of strawberry daiquiris, tequila shots, terrible karaoke and the guys competing over who could throw the furthest a traffic cone they found off the side of the road while walking you and Syd home, at almost four in the morning. They had dropped you off with a chorus of slurred ‘bye byess’ and kept walking in the direction of “Adventure” as Sweeps had called it. On your way up, the usual still stairs had become a workout to climb and Syd had almost landed on her ass on the second and third floor, before tripping on the forth and sliding belly first down half the flight of stairs. You did your best to contain the laughter after seeing her reaction to finally landing with nothing but a bruised chin and ego, but her surprised face was enough to have you slumping on the last step and heaving with tears in your eyes. After you both caught your breath, you reached towards her and held her hand until you were in the safety of your room.

You giggled drunk while changing into your pajamas and turned to Sydney, telling her about your foolproof plan of going home with a stranger to get Carmy out of your head.

“I don’t get it.. why not jus’ like, bang Carmy, right? And get it over with?” She said between hiccups as you both climbed into your bed.

“It’s jus’ not the same!” You whined, turning off the light. “He’s too good for that.” You heard Syd groan beside you and you’re glad the lights were off so she couldn’t see you rolling your eyes at her. “He is!”

You shimmied under the covers and stared at the glow in the dark stickers on your ceiling, the alcohol making them swim around the blank canvas like shooting stars.

“He’s sweet and kind and… funny in like a fucked up, kinda tragic way..” you giggle “and he’s so fuckin’ hot, Sydney! So hot! Every time he looks at me with those eyes I want him to bend me over the expo an-“ you feel a soft smack against your face and the plushness of the pillow drowns out your laughs. 

Syd groaned in disgust at the image you planted in her head “Dude gross! Why would I ever need to know that?!” She said taking the pillow back from you. 

You giggled again and turned to Syd’s silhouette, softly combing back the braids that rested on her shoulder to distract yourself. “I think I really fucked up tonight, Syddy.” You finally admitted in the darkness of your safe space and heavily intoxicated. 

Sydney hummed in question and you knew you only had a few moments of clarity before falling unconscious. You took the end of one of her braids and used it to tickle under her nose to keep her awake a little longer while you failed to understand the many emotions in your head.

“I think he hates me now.” You said softly, a small tear sliding out your eye and quickly disappearing into the soft fabric of your pillow.

She scratched at her nose in frustration then slightly slapped her palm against your forehead. You laughed softly but continued to bug her.

“He could never hate you, he loves you too much.” She mumbled carelessly, readjusting herself and swinging a leg up on your hip under the duvet.

Your cheeks felt warm at the idea of love and even though you knew it was too soon to call it that, you couldn’t avoid the fuzzy feeling the word brought to your insides. ‘Oh to be loved’ you thought ‘and by Carmy of all people’. 

“You can’t know that.” You said with a sniffle, caressing the tip of her braid now on your own nose. You liked how it tickled.

Syd sighed before lifting her head as best she could in her drunk and half asleep state and slurred your name “Please, that man has been tripping-over-his-feet in love with you since day one.” She paused to pull her hair from your hands and adjust the pillow under her. “You two are the only idiots who haven’t noticed.” Then laid her head back down with a soft smack.

A new sensation filled your chest, one you hadn’t really given a name to before because there hadn’t been a reason to. It was a warmth that spread from the crown of your head down to the tips of all your extremities as your friend’s words floated in your head. A slow smile extended across your face and with the last waves of consciousness you decided to put an end to all the doubt and talk to him tomorrow, the stupid rule be damned. 

Capter 4.

Taglist: @pearlstiare and that’s it lmao

[cityofjieun]

★ . . . . -ˏˋ 2KIDS ROOMˊˎ | EP. 3 - JIA x HAN

date: february 2022 era: maniac word count: 1.4K

a/n: this took a lot longer than i planned and i'm not sure if i like it but if i don't post it now i literally never will. 2 ji is a realtionship thats very dear to me so i hope i did them justice. please lemme know what you think 🙇🏽‍♀️

THE 2KR INTRO PLAYS, FEATURING A COMPILATION OF THE TWO GIGGLING AT EACH OTHER’S EXPENSE, THE OTHER MEMBER USUALLY STARING BLANKLY OR STRUGGLING TO NOT RETURN THE SMILE.

HAN: [sitting on the couch by himself, looking off camera] are you going to come over here so we can start or are you going to stall a little longer?

JIA: [OFF CAMERA] i’m waiting for manager-nim to find the clause in my contract that says i wouldn't have to film with han-ssi outside of group schedules... i think this is a mistake.

HAN: [GIGGLING BUT LOOKING TOWARD THE CAMERA] do you see how difficult jia-nim is… aish, she’s caught the celebrity disease.

JIA: and you would know all about that, oppa-nim [ SITTING DOWN ON THE COUCH ] i mean, you caught it before you were even famous.

HAN: okay, moving on!

꩜

SEUNGMIN: han and jia.

FELIX: they’re like oil and vinegar.

CHANGBIN: in what way??

CHAN: they don’t mix necessarily, but they still go together well.

[ FELIX HUMS IN AGREEMENT ]

꩜

JIA: [ CLAPS ] chidongz 2kids room!

HAN: i still don't know how to feel about that?

JIA: you learn to live with it, i mean it’s a cuter way of calling us rodents…

HAN: [SIGHS]

JIA: anyways, when was the last time we hung out, han-ssi?

HAN: i remember we watched that j-drama you saw on tiktok together but i can’t exactly remember when that was. i see you so much that it kind of blurs together.

JIA: honestly, we are together a lot. you are a homebody, so we don’t actually go out as much as i wish we would, but we usually hang out together at the dorms.

꩜

HYUNJIN: have you noticed that they always tend to end up at our dorm?

JEONGIN: which is interesting, because you'd think jisung-hyung would just come over to ours more because jieun and lino-hyung are there and he could kill two birds with one stone.

[ THE TWO LAUGH]

MINHO: ??

HYUNJIN: that gives him too much credit, it's too sensible.

MINHO: [POINTEDLY IGNORING HYUNJIN] i think it's because jisung-ah thrives in his own personal space, while being home for too long might make jieunnie feel a bit trapped.

꩜

HAN: but we did go out recently to... [TRAILING OFF] umm… what was it…

JIA: [CUTTING HIM OFF] so the time we spend together means nothing.

HAN: stop.

[ THEY STOP LOOKING AT EACH OTHER SERIOUSLY FOR A MOMENT BEFORE JISUNG BREAK INTO LAUGHTER FOLLOWED BY JIEUN ]

JIA: anyways! we went to a cafe in hannam-dong i really wanted to try. i saw it in yoon seung-ah’s vlogs. they’re known for their bagels and that location specifically has a pretty view of the river so i wanted to take insta pictures.

HAN: OH! and we got lost trying to find it?

JIA: because you insisted, we didn't need directions. HAN: [ROLLS EYES] hey, we found it eventually, didn't we? JIA: after wandering around for an hour! by the time we got there the wait was insane.

HAN: [UNDER HIS BREATH] yeah and the bagels were a bit mid for how long we waited.

JIA: we wouldn’t have had to so long if some had gotten up when i told him to originally AND actually used his phone maps [WACKING HIS SHOULDER TO EMPHAZISE HER POINT]

[THE TWO START TO BAT AT EACH OTHER BEFORE THE SCENCE CUTS]

JIA: i think we should go on a trip together next time we have a vacation. we’ve never gone anywhere just the two of us like that it could be fun.

HAN: a vacation with you….

JIA: what’s that supposed to mean???

HAN: i’m kidding i’m kidding

JIA: yeah sure.

HAN: you are very J so you would make a whole itinerary, wouldn’t you?

JIA: i think having a general plan of what you want to do make sure you get to make the most of you time

HAN: hmmm sure...where would we even go?[THINKING] Japan could be fun. Lots of great food, and it's a short trip. What about you?

JIA: [SMILES] Japan sounds fun. But I'd say Europe. We could explore so many different countries and cultures. I’d love to be able to use my french.

HAN: oh, i have an interesting question, what would we do if the other disappeared.

JIA: oh, this gets a bit serious.

HAN: [SERIOUS] it's funny because i think with any other member, i think i’d want to let them have their space because obviously if they run away, it's for some reason and they want to be alone. but i think if you were so upset that you’d isolate yourself, i’d have to check on you immediately. [ TOWARDS THE CAMERA TO AVOID EYE CONTACT WITH JIEUN ] she isn't someone that likes to be by herself, alone time isn’t really something she seeks because she thrives around others, so i think if she's going out of her way to be by herself like that something is really wrong.

JIA: [A BIT STARTLED AT HIS SERIOUSNESS, AS WELL AS THE SLIGHT READ] aww ji…[POKING HIS ARM] i think i'd obviously want to respect the fact that hanji wanted time alone, but i'd have to check in at some point. [SHE PEEKS AT JISUNG BEFORE CONTINUING A BIT BASHFULLY] i know we have very different social batteries, and hanji is pretty good about just letting me know when he needs some time to himself. but i think if he was to go off and not respond i’d be worried.”

꩜

CHAN: honestly, i think out of everyone, jieun has opened up to han the most, besides seungmin.

FELIX: which is interesting because they’re so different.

[THE FOUR MURMUR IN AGREEMENT]

SEUNGMIN: i think they get on so well because they’re aware of how different they are.

CHANGBIN: oh absolutely. the two used to clash a lot, and i think they came to a point where they had to understand how they were different, and what accommodations they need to make to understand the other better.

CHAN: wahh changbin, you're so insightful.

꩜

[SENTIMENTAL SILENCE]

JIA: this may be the only time i every admit to this, but sometimes i wish i were more like you in some ways

HAN: in what ways?

JIA: i mean, like you said earlier i’m not one who enjoys being by themselves. i think when i'm alone for too long i begin to think too hard and get into my own head. honestly, i think not being able to properly spend time alone with myself is a bit unhealthy. i kinda admire the fact that you are capable of being on your own and enjoy your own company.

꩜

MINHO: i’ve been trying to get jieunnie to understand that it’s not wrong to want to be around others and have companionship, it's an innately human thing, you know.

HYUNJIN: she’s a lot like changbin-hyung. he likes to just sit in my room with me to just be there.

JEONGIN: [GIGGLING TO HIMSELF] well, that's because it's you and changbin hyung…

HYUNJIN: …

꩜

JIA: skz-gi behind the camera look like they want us to start wrapping up

HAN: any final words?

[JIA HUMS, SEEMINGLY WEIGHING SOMETHING BACK AND FORTH IN HER MIND, BEFORE SIGHING AND GRABBING ONE OF JISUNGS HANDS]

JIA: i know i don’t say this often but thank you.

HAN: what for?

JIA: being my person i guess? you have always worked really hard to understand me, as well as help me understand myself. i’m so grateful to have a friend like you in my life and i’m so happy i get to live out my childhood dreams with my best friend.

HAN: jieun...

JIA: hey, let me finish. thank you for growing with me thus far, and I'm so excited to see where we go... together.

HAN: jieunnie..

JIA: if you cry so will I

HAN: thank you for understanding me as well. i know i haven't always been the easiest to deal with but y

[ THE TWO SIT IN SILENCE FOR A MOMENT, SOAKING IN JIEUN'S BEFORE JISUNG CLEARS HIS THROAT. THE SOUND MAKES JIEUN SNICKER FOR A MOMENT BEFORE THE TWO DISSOLVES INTO SILENT TEARS. THE VIDEO CUTS TO THE TWO, LESS TEARY BUT NOSES OBVIOUSLY A LITTLE STUFFY]

JIA: well, this was fun.

HAN: should we take our picture and head out?

JIA: yes please [END]

©︎ cityofjieun, all rights reserved. pls, do not copy or repost my work.

[th3-ann0unc3r]

my evan headcannons because somehow this man has wormed himself into my little brain!!!!

(i’m gonna do it based on ships and just hc in general!)

General

-He/they pronouns (wishes more people would use they)(pandora is the best at using their pronouns)

-he’s definitely got a stuffed animal that he’s had since a kid that definitely needs a good wash

-smell sensitive (he hates vanilla and anything mixed with poppy) (will get bad migraines if he smells vanilla to much)

-sleeps on the left side of the bed (i got no explanation for this he just seems like the type)

-incredibly smart but just won’t apply himself

-Figured out he was gay in 4th year (BARTY CROUCH JR THE MAN YOU ARE)

-won’t wear his fucking glasses (he says it ruins his outfit)

————————————————————————

Rosekiller

-Barty bites like crazy but evan just lets him do it (it’s bartys love language)

-Evan sits on bartys right anytime they sit together

-barty always keeps ahold of evan’s glasses even if he doesn’t want them

-They sneak out all the time literally just to go sit at the lake and talk

————————————————————————

Moonrose (this ship is like brain rot)

-When evan found out remus was a werewolf he did all the research he could legally do (and even some illegal but nobody talks about that)

-They got together after the prank and Evan smacked the shit out of sirius when he found out

-They definitely have broken up and got back together a couple of times (they both have hard ass heads)

-Remus got evan back into reading

-Remus’ sweaters are too small for evan so he has to go buy ones that are to big so evan can steal his clothes without complaining.

-They smoke so much together

————————————————————————

Evan/Regulus (i don’t know their ship name….)

-Evan is literally a sweet talker and regulus falls for it EVERY SINGLE TIME

-the only reason evan ever gets up early is when regulus has quidditch practice and he wants to support him

-Evan buys lighters that remind him of regulus and gives them to him at presents

-The day regulus died they had gotten into a fight and the last thing evan ever said to him was “Well cry me a fucking river”

————————————————————————

Evan/Sirius (again i’ve got no ship name)

-Sirius cannot stand any of evan’s friends so they mostly hang out with the gryffindors

-When pandora heard they were dating she asked sirius if evan has been holding him captive

-They smoke so much together it’s kinda scary

-“My perfect rose” “My favorite star”

[fortunatelyseveredreamland]

What a week…

It’s so weird to be back here. I am sad I deleted my blog so many years ago and forgot what it was even called. I knew I’d come back eventually if something big were to happen. Never thought this exact thing would be the reason.

I was at work on Wednesday when I found out. My hands immediately shook and my heart sank. I couldn’t wait to leave to get home and be able to know more and mourn. As soon as I got in the car, I started crying.

It’d been such a long time since 1D took up this much space in my brain. It feels like a lifetime ago, sitting on tumblr from night to morning. Rewatching the video diaries and music videos millions of times. Making my friends and followers one shots and photoshopped texts. Plastering my entire room with posters from every magazine I could find. But somehow, it also feels like yesterday?

It felt weird to have my mind immediately transport back to being in my room and only caring about the boys. Sleepovers with my bestie revolving around their music.

I don’t think I have ever loved something as much as I love One Direction. The feeling of hanging out with you all and loving the boys so very much. I wish I could feel that way right now without the overwhelming amount of guilt.

I had to come back here with a brand new account and feel this community’s embrace again. The only people that will ever truly understand this feeling. And I’m so glad I did. While everyone is speaking how they feel, they are also sharing old posts, and funny ones. Ones that make all of the good memories come rushing back like a rough river. It’s like I never left. And in some way, I don’t think I ever truly did. I left my heart on this website and in One Direction and now I feel like there is a part of my soul that is never coming back. But maybe in due time, he can live in that void for the rest of time.

I have seen a lot of posts about inner child. But to be honest, I don’t think my inner child is crying. My full adult self is crying. The part of me that would spend all of my life savings on a ticket to an ot5 reunion. The little girl inside of me left long ago, but the adult 27 year old woman who has nothing to look forward to now feels like she’s actively dying inside. It wasn’t supposed to be this way. They were supposed to live until they were 90. It’s just unfair and too soon.

I’d like to say that I hope all of you are doing well. This is the first day since the news that I haven’t been a full puddle of tears, but I also keep waking up and hoping this is a nightmare. I took a shower and blasted take me home. I cried a little bit it was cathartic. It made me feel that all of those memories are worth so much to not only me but to the boys and their families.

I’d like to round this off with my letter to Liam.

Hey Leeyum,

I miss you like crazy already. Which pains me to say because I could’ve been a more active fan for you in the last few years. I knew what had been happening, but always felt like you were going to come out on the other side, stronger. I wish we all could’ve saved you.

Thank you for being you. Thank you for writing songs that helped me through my teenage and early adult years. They still do. Thank you for making us laugh. Thank you for making us proud. I know you wouldn’t want us to wallow in sadness for you. You’d want us to talk about the memories.

The boys love you so much and I hope you knew that. There was no One Direction without you. You were the glue that held it all together. You deserved more public love than you were ever given. I just hope you know how much the 1D family cares and loves you.

I’m so sorry this was the way your story ended. You deserved so much more than life gave you. I will love you until the end of time, sweet boy. <3

I love you all. Please take care of yourselves. I plan on sticking around a while. Hope to see more names that I recognize on my feed.

[chaotic-tired-bastard]

pleasseee i'm begging you to share some roku or roku x sozin headcanons 🙏

okay so many apologies I STARTED this but my computer hated me, froze, and I lost everything ,T-T, many apologies again. Solely Roku headcanons first, Rozin second (some canon-compliant, some not)

Roku gets arthritis in his hands and wrists when he gets older, and he gets this really nice lotion that smells like wisteria that he uses to massage his knuckles and fingers to reduce the pain

Roku learned how to use Airbending to lighten his footsteps, lessening their sound, in order to sneak around the house at night and not wake up Ta Min and their child(ren)

Roku gained a fanclub due to his gentle demeanour (and his pretty pretty face), and he was a bit creeped out sorta accepting about it in the beginning... but then he met one of the members. After that, he avoided them like the plague; he even sometimes jumped over houses and walls and into rivers to get away

Roku tried to learn how to heal, but he could never really get the hang of it

Roku actually really, really likes Water Tribe cuisine! It's canon that he stayed in the Northern Water Tribe for multiple years before he was able to start learning Waterbending, and I like to think that he gained a taste for the food about a year into his stay. Sometimes he goes to Water Tribe restaurants wherever he can find them, and he can immediately tell when it's authentic or not from the taste. It became a kind of honour (HONOURRR) if Avatar Roku were to come into your Water Tribe restaurant and like your food

Roku was scary good at composing poems. He learned how to do them when in school (with Sozin bcs they learned in the same class (they were the only two in the class bcs Royal Privilege and that's what Sozin asked for)), and it eventually matured into a hobby. Roku would express affection by composing poems and reciting them; he composed a few for Ta Min and proposed through one, and he wrote a few at the birth of his child(ren). He might have composed one for Sozin, but he'll never tell...

Rozin starts here!

Sozin is so possessive that it's not even funny. Like the MOMENT he knew Roku was back in the Fire Nation he had a spy or two on him. You just know that he was spitting fire and blood when he learned that Roku and Ta Min were going to get married. (Also like he kinda lowkey steals some things of Roku's to put in his chambers to pretend that Roku's living with him… pathetic yearning)

Roku had a teeny little crush on Sozin when they were pre-teens. It was awkward, and Roku eventually grew out of it by convincing himself "It wouldn't work anyway, he's going to be the Fire Lord and I'm just some kid"

Sozin didn't know that he was down bad for Roku until about a year after Roku left. He was just sitting in a garden somewhere, lying in the sun, and was just like "I wish I had Roku here so I could have his head in my lap and play with his hair..." and then he was just like "WHAT"

Sozin tried to send letters to Roku while he was away, but because of his dad they never were sent. They were supposed to be burned, but someone stored them away instead. Somewhere, within the depths of the Fire Nation Royal Palace, there's a box full of decades-old letters, just waiting to be read or burned... and those letters might just contain a confession...

Sozin is soooooo touch starved—every chance he can get, he's draped over Roku in some way, and they snuggle every night they can. They're the kind of couple you can find lounging on a couch with literal feet of couch available, but Sozin's either pressed up against Roku's side or is sitting on his lap

When Rozin fight, they split up to cool off and then spar about it. They continue the fight whilst they actually fight, and they end up making outup when they end the fight&spar. Sometimes it's bending only, but when they're really angry it's just throwing punches & kicks. The inherent homoeroticism of beating each other up-