#it was loosely thrown together and i need to fix it

[gravesforstraydogs]

whoever made this playlist deserves an award

[katiascraft]

“I hate accidents, except when we went from friends to this. Darling, you’re the one I want” | LN4

Parings: Lando Norris x Reader.

Summary: Your group of friends decided to go to Maldives for the winter holidays and the time off of some of the guys who were drivers in F1. You and Lando had been best friends for the longest time until one night you confessed your love for each other.

Now playing: “Paper rings” by Taylor Swift.

Word count: +1,7k.

Warnings: insinuating a little. Mentions of sex. Pure fluff. Not a native English speaker so there could be errors. Not proofread.

Author’s note: I would love to travel to Maldives one day 😍 don’t forget to like or reblog! And follow me so we can be friends :3 (and drink mate together!)

MASTERLIST

You were laughing so hard. Lando wanted to show you a pirouette he “learned” to do because of pierre and he failed miserably falling into the water that surrounded your cottege.

Maldives was a dream. So beautiful. And really hot.

You didn’t realized how much you needed to take a break from the world with your friends. There’s no other choice with them: you just had to have fun or you had fun anyway. You loved them all so much. You were like 20 living in the same house in the middle of the world.

Lando got out of the water and started splashing water to you and Alexa that was next to you along with Charles hugging her from behind. You three shouted and from behind Pierre and Kika threw all of you into sea water with Lando. The water was warm and cristaline. You went up out of the water to find Lando smiling at yo and he fixed your hair. You thanked him with a smile.

You were in love with him. But you never had the strength to tell him. You were a coward. You didn’t want to loose him. The feeling of losing him because you confessed your love was terrifying. You just imagined how much pain you were gonna get into. You couldn’t picture your life without him in it.

You got close to him and hugged him from behind with your legs and arms listening to the conversation he was having along all of the boy that came. His perfume was your favorite smell in the world. His sling was warm. He grabbed you by your legs and brushed his fingers gently through your skin. That sent shivers down your spine but you didn’t want to move. These moments with him were so priceless for you. You felt it was as far as this.

For people - you looked like two love birds having fun and just confessing the love for each other through the way you looked at each other. Truth was you weren’t. But at the same time you loved each other more than words could express. Or that you could express to each other. Your love was an open secret to the world.

You rested your head on his shoulder just enjoying his company and touch. The way his body felt being wrapped around your body. And just following the conversation they were having about cars and stuff.

(…)

It was late and the whole group had gone out to the restaurants on the island. Except for you lando and puerta and kika who were already asleep in their bedroom. You have prepared tea and grabbed your fav book you’re reading at the moment in your kindle. You just wanted to relax for a while in those woven beds above the sea. The sunset was present. The view was so beautiful. You took a picture to remember that moment and poured the tea from the teapot into your cup. Ready you headed to the bed that you have thrown pillows and some blankets to make it fluffier. And more comfy.

You got comfortable sipping tea from your cup. You felt so relaxed at that moment. You took a picture for Instagram. Oh well a few pictures they were. You started reading and enjoying yourself surrounded by the sound of nature and the calmness of the sea. After a few minutes you heard someone coming down the stairs of the house.

You looked and found Lando freshly showered. The smell of his aftershave made your heart race. You smiled at him. He did too.

He got comfy next to you looking at you. He was quiet. He loved watching you. Stare at you. Admire and memorize every detail. you just got comfy with him now. Rested your head on his arm and kept on reading and doing your thing. He started strolling your hair softly. You enjoyed each other’s company right there. Under the sunset. He kissed your temple and you just left your things in a safe place before coming back to him. You looked at him very closely. He smiled at you for your action. He was nervous to have you so close. He could smell your sweet perfume in 4k. See every detail and texture of your skin. You were beautiful. The most beautiful girl he has ever seen - since you were teenagers. Any other girl could compete with you. He tried to forget about you with so many girls. Trying to find what you made him feel in them. But he just couldn’t. Any of them were you. And they will never be you.

You stroke his cheek sending shivers down his spine. This was usual between you two when you were alone. And you hated yourselves for knowing everything and at the same time pretending you didn’t. You just couldn’t talk about it. You kissed him on the cheek and cuddled him. He pulled you closer to him and you just fell asleep there. At peace with each other’s company. Feeling protected by one another.

(…)

It was party night. Everyone in the house was glammed up. Some of you are already drunk. And you were one of them. Alexa prepared you a gin tonic and god it was strong. You were laughing about everything and anything. Lando was a little drunk but you won over him. He found the drunk you so cute. And you looked so hot he just couldn’t keep his hands to himself. He found any occasion to touch you. Whenever.

The party was at the beach and started at sunset. You got there an hour later than expected. The music was so good. People looked so beautiful. You were all drunk. You were having fun just facing and fooling around with your friends.

You couldn't stop looking at Lando and how handsome and hot he looked in that shirt. You were driving yourself crazy by thinking of multiple ways to take his shirt off. And touch him. And kiss him.

Lando was loose. He was enjoying the evening very much. He danced with you and couldn’t help but hug you sometimes. Or touch you. He wanted to take off the yellow dress you had on. That color would look terrible on other people but oh god it was your color. It made your eyes shine so brightly. Make your smile beam. And your hair shine. He couldn’t stop looking at your lips wondering what flavour of gloss did you choose to wear today.

After a while a girl came towards him and started chatting with Lando. They were talking very stimulated. You could see her intentions. And you didn’t want to admit you were oh so jealous. Lando seemed to enjoy her company. That made anxiety creep you once more in your life.

And that was the moment you knew you couldn’t keep on pretending you didn’t love him. That was it. You were gonna tell him everything. And then you could run and hide and cry if he didn’t feel the same. But you needed to say it. To scream it. You felt desperate at the thought of once more losing him to another girl. Of not being brave and own your shit.

You walked towards them and interrupted their conversation.

“Um … excuse me. Didn’t want to interrupt but Lando I really need to talk to you in private asap” you clarified just looking at him desperate. And deep into his eyes.

He freaked out a little because your voice sounded so different than usual. He tried to keep calm. He nodded. “Sorry I gotta go” he said to the girl and grabbed your hand taking you two apart from the crowded site.

You got really anxious. You were scared but you knew you had to. He deserved to know as much as you deserved to express yourself.

He looked at you, grabbing your hands into his and stroking them gently. He could feel you were anxious.

“Lando… I’m scared of what I’m about to say but I need you to know…” you were struggling to find the correct words but your nervousness wasn’t helping. He tightened his grip into your hands to give you confidence. His heart was racing like crazy. He could feel his heart palpitations into his ears.

“I like you Lando. And not like just a friend. I am… I am in love with you. I’ve been secretly in love with you for years like I really want to take your shirt off with my teeth and have sex here in front of everyone I really do not care. I want you. To me you're the most handsome, most fun, most generous, most generous, and most everything. Please just tell me you feel the same. I'm so drunk I will cry for hours. I really really like you Lan” you basically spitted all of your thoughts to him. You were drunk and that was the best way you could express yourself right now.

He heard you. He heard you pretty clear. He felt his heart skip a beat. This was a dream. He dreamed of this so many nights. He couldn’t talk so he just grabbed your face and kissed you with all of his feelings into it. He kissed you desperately. Like his life depended on it. Because in some way it did. He couldn’t imagine a life without you. The kiss was deep and steamy at some point. Your hearts were racing and you were hot and agitated.

You finally knew how his lips tasted. You could die right there. You never felt this way. You couldn’t even think straight. Words couldn’t express what you felt either. You grabbed him by his shirt pulling him closely. You didn’t want to stop kissing him. You could stay like this forever.

He pulled apart from you slowly and softly. “Y/n I love you too. I’ve always did” he whispered into your lips. Your noses brushing each other so gently. You could feel his warm breath. His hands on your face. You smiled widely.

You should’ve done it way back.

Now you two need to kiss for this whole time you couldn’t until the end of your lives.

You heard your friends clapping and chanting for you both to finally be together. That made you laugh and look at them.

You couldn’t ask for a better group of friends.

And a better guy to spend life with.

You looked once more to each other. Knowing you were about to be the best life next to each other.

Forever.

——————————————————————————————

Hope you liked it 💌 if you have any ideas my inbox is open so send your requests!

[hermaeusmorax]

What have you done?

CHARACTERS: Jayce x reader, slight Viktor x reader (more platonic!)

SUMMARY: you, Jayce and Viktor share history. You're arguing with Jayce about his actions in the Undercity. Reader is described having a metal arm!

WARNINGS: SET IN SEASON 02 EPISODE 06 SPOILERS AHEAD! this is very angsty, descriptions of death and bodies, gets steamy in the end (minors DNI!), enemies to lovers type shit (my jam!)

A/N: okay so this is my very first piece after a 4 years HIATUS (hiii haha), anyways, fucked up Hexcore!Jayce is just sooo *twirls hair*

"What have you done?" You scream as you blindly lunge towards Jayce, a random weapon tightly clutched in your hands — no doubt discarded by some, now dead, Noxian soldier. You could barely see an inch in front of you due to the surging chaos, but you were sure about Jayce, you would never mistake him, his silhouette, his scent.

It had been months since Jinx's attack on the Counsil. Months since Viktor emerged out of the Hexcore changed, taking you to Zaun with him and leaving Jayce behind. You were a chemist, Viktor's childhood best friend that stuck by him since the very beginning. You and Jayce had a brief, intense, spark. It happened before him and Mel, before it became hard to grasp his attention, being Piltover's golden star and everything. It hurt when you left him, standing at the laboratory, his pleading brown eyes boring holes into yours and Viktor's backs. But Viktor was right, your paths, your visions, had long strayed, being held together only by lasting affection.

In Zaun, at Viktor's — The Herald's — growing community, you acted as a chemist again. Helping the newly cured zaunites, researching to improve their lives as much as possible. You had been specially busy since Vander's arrival, severely mutilated by Viktor's former teacher and in desperate need of help. You were working in your makeshift lab, absent mindedly humming a familiar tune when hell broke loose.

A loud, sharp sound echoed, followed by more crashing sounds and piercing screams. Smoke rose in the air, making it almost impossible to inhale. For a split second you could hear Viktor's voice in your head whispering, "Jayce", you ran as fast as your legs permitted, desperate to locate the origin of the sound, to locate Viktor. When you finally did find them, you wished you hadn't. The starking image of his limp and dead body made your breath hitch, mind speeding so much to make sense of things it made you dizzy. Blood rushed to your ears, making a deafening ringing sound, you rubbed your eyes, squinting to adjust, then you saw another figure, a tall and dark frame.

Jayce looked, different, but your brain had no time to process that information as you grabbed the first weapon you could find thrown on the floor, lunging at him. "What did you do?" "How could you?" "I hate you!" you breathlessly shout, aiming for Jayce's head with your stray weapon, then again, you never were much of a fighter, that was Jayce's job. The last thing you heard before the world went complete black, was his voice, a cry of your name, sounding so broken and lost.

"Sorry for knocking you out like that. I hope your head's not hurting too much." you heard Jayce's soft voice, distant at first as you were regaining consciousness, then close, right at your ears. You slowly woke up, blinking the throbbing pain away you were at last able to recognize your surroundings.

Jayce had brought you to your old laboratory, right at Piltover's heart, where you had last seen him, where you had left him. You were sitting in a chair, your mechanical arm resting on the table beside you, laying alongside dirty, well-worn tools. "I fixed it. Your arm. It looked broken and I-" Jayce blurted out, stopping with a nervous chuckle when you looked at him. "My technique might not be as delicate as Viktor's but it's fixed, working. I promise!". When Viktor's name left Jayce's lips, a haunting image of his corpse flashed in your mind, compelling you to leap forward and forcefully grab Jayce's collar, gripping so tight your knuckles turned white, drained of blood. You were trembling horribly, fueled by an ugly mixture of grief and hatred, your words came out hoarse, stinging like a whip.

"You promise? Ha! You killed him Jayce! You- you just disappear and then when you finally come to us, you go and kill him? What's wrong with you? I don't know you anymore, you've become someone else entirely and I- No!" you were panting, tears angrily threatening to spill "That's too gentle for you, you're a murderer, Jayce, a monster!".

Jayce's mind was racing, spinning with the force of your words and then it finally snapped. "Shut the fuck up!" he tore your hands away from his shirt, holding your wrists and pulling you close, pressed up against his chest. "You have no idea Y/N! You can't possibly begin to understand what I was put through!" "I was in there, while you and Viktor were out here playing house!" "I kept my promise!".

Jayce's eyes were red, frantically shaking looking into your own, in desperate search of something. He was so close, you could feel his heartbeat and his breath fanning your face, his scent was attacking your nostrils mercilessly, engulfing you in his presence. Like this you could almost see the old Jayce inside there, somewhere — untainted, full of promise — the one you fell hard for. All it took was a single look from him. A single, meaningful, glance down to your mouth from his so pretty brown eyes. He was so, so close. Next thing you knew you and Jayce were in each other's arms, kissing so forcefully it almost broke skin. Kissing like your very lives depend on it, like you'll die of asphyxiation if you stop.

Jayce hoisted you up the table, sending tools and papers flying, both of you couldn't care less right now. He positioned himself in between your legs, leaning some of his body weight on you, forcing your back to meet the cold surface beneath. "Jayce!" you breathed out, talking into his mouth, gasping for air and breaking the kiss for a second too long. Your hands, firmly resting on the back of his neck, wandered to the hem of your shirt, fidgeting with it, trying to lose it. Jayce noticed and made quick work of your shirt, hurriedly sliding it over your head and tossing aside to a forgotten corner.

"Don't stop" you huffed against him again, voice dripping with want, you struggled blindly to unbuckle his belt, too busy reciprocating his fervent kisses to bother to look down. "I got you" Jayce urged, going crazy with the way your lips felt on his, even more addicting than he remembers. He reached down, tugging off your pants and underwear in one precise motion. Your senses were completely overwhelmed, all you were able to think, see, hear, smell and feel was Jayce.

You were both pouring everything into this kiss, into this very moment. Bleeding years of bottled up love and regrets into each other's systems. Even still, you harbored feelings for him, and him you. Despite the hurricane of emotions and thoughts swirling inside your head, a small, nagging voice coming from the darkest dephts of your mind, kept quietly chanting "What have you done, Y/N?"

[guiltyasdave]

it’s nice to have a friend

this is a secret santa gift for @wethairjoel - merry christmas my love 🫶🏻

pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

word count: ~2.6k

summary: Joel and you have been best friends for years, but maybe this Christmas it’s time for the both of you to admit that that’s not all you want. (Goddamn I should write Hallmark movies)

tags: no outbreak!AU, friends to lovers, idiots in love, Sarah is alive, Ellie is reader’s sister, able-bodied reader, bits of angst/jealousy, Joel being emotionally constipated, mentions of alcohol consumption, FLUFF <3

dividers by @/saradika-graphics who is amazing!

full masterlist here / follow @guiltyasdavenotifs and turn on notifications for fic updates!

much love to @reddedmiller for assuring me that this is cute and not terrible, i love you 🫶🏻

“Ellie, come on! They’re here!”

Your back is turned to the door as you’re yelling up the staircase, waiting for your younger sister to finally come down. You turn around, fixing the open door and your waiting friend Joel with a tired smile.

“Hi,” you sigh, waving at Sarah, who’s waiting in the backseat of Joel’s truck.

“Rough morning?” Joel chuckles and lets you pull him into a quick hug.

As you’re nodding, Ellie finally comes trudging down the stairs, her backpack haphazardly thrown over one shoulder and her hair in a loose ponytail. She wordlessly flips you the bird as she walks past you and you roll your eyes, used to her grumpy mood in the morning.

“Sorry,” you mutter in Joel’s direction, ushering her out of the door, “didn’t mean to make you guys late.”

Joel laughs and shakes his head. “Don’t worry about it, darlin’, it’s no big deal.”

He casually throws an arm over your shoulder as he leads you to his car and opens the passenger side’s door for you while Ellie is already climbing in beside Sarah.

Joel starts the car and makes his way to the girls’ school, the radio playing soft rock music in the background and the girls chattering away behind you.

“Thanks again for doing this,” you smile at Joel.

“‘Course. You’re the one doin’ me a favor here, really.”

Joel and you had both agreed to take the day off and go shopping for Christmas presents for your girls while they were at school.

You had moved to Austin two years ago, a few months after becoming Ellie’s legal guardian. Ellie and Sarah had classes together and had quickly become best friends, easing your worries about Ellie being an outsider at her new school, and they asked to spend more time together outside of classes almost constantly.

That’s how you met Joel, the both of you bonding over being the sole caregiver for your girls and being younger than most other parents at the school. It’s an easy friendship and one that you cherish greatly. Joel is a good friend, making you laugh when you’re with him, always willing to help if anything at your house needs fixing, hosting barbecues for the four almost every weekend in the summer, and someone you can always turn to for parenting advice.

So what if he’s also so handsome that it almost hurts to look at him sometimes and your heart rate still picks up when he’s close to you? When you had first started hanging out more, you had thought that there might be more between you, with the way he kept calling you “darlin’” and the flirty remarks he threw at you, but nothing more ever happened and he never gave you any indication that he wanted anything more, so you figured that it was just his southern charm and that he treated everybody like this. Not wanting to screw up the one real friendship that you had managed to build in your new hometown, you continued to swallow down any deeper feelings, any attraction that you might feel towards him.

You drop the girls off at school and continue the drive downtown, stopping on the way for a coffee. Joel, who you have never seen drinking anything else than plain black coffee, teases you relentlessly over the Christmas themed drink with syrup and an obnoxious amount of whipped cream that you have picked for yourself. It’s a never ending discussion that comes up every time you have coffee together and one that you've gotten used to, with Joel not understanding why you would taint the coffee’s taste and you not understanding how he’s able to drink the bitter beverage without smoothing it out with milk at least.

When you finally reach the mall, already packed with bustling crowds of Christmas shoppers, you sigh. At least you’re not alone, and you have a plan of what you want to get. You pull out the list of potential gifts and stores where you might get them that you had written the night before, making Joel chuckle.

“Always prepared for anythin’, huh?”

You grin back and nudge him with your elbow. “You’re gonna thank me later, trust me.”

“Don’t doubt it,” he mutters and follows you through the crowd of people, a calming presence by your side.

You make a good team, somehow both more equipped to pick out presents for the other’s young girl. Sarah had wished for new CDs, movies and posters of her favorite bands to redecorate her room, an endeavor that you’re more than happy to help with. Ellie wants new strings and picks for her guitar, one that you had bought second hand and that Joel is teaching her to play almost every weekend, and new drawing utensils.

Due to your thorough planning, you manage to secure all the goods before noon, a fact that you don’t hesitate to rub into Joel’s face and he reluctantly agrees that this shopping trip had been done much faster than if he had gone alone, playing up his grumpy demeanor but you know him well enough to see the warm and playful glint in his eyes.

Since you still have a few hours to yourselves until the girls will return from school, you decide to get another coffee and maybe a snack together, this time actually sitting down in a café rather than picking it up. You’re treating yourself to another fancy drink, Joel is sipping on another black coffee and you’re sharing a blueberry muffin while you’re talking about your plans for the holidays.

Ellie and you will be over at the Millers for Christmas Eve and Christmas Day, a tradition that you had established last year and that you’re more than grateful for. You love Ellie and she’s the only family that you care about, but you want her to have the best time possible, especially at Christmas.

Joel excuses himself to use the bathroom and leaves you alone at the table. You’re aimlessly scrolling through your phone when another person sits down in Joel’s seat. You look up slowly, taking in the guy in front of you. Slim, blonde, about your age, kind of handsome, you presume, if that part of your mind wasn’t taken up by another man. But that’s not a thought that you’re supposed to have, you try reminding yourself.

“Hey,” the man says, smiling at you. He has a handsome smile, too. “I’m Dan.” He extends a hand to you and you shake it, too perplexed to do much else.

“I’m sorry to disturb you, I just came in and saw you sitting here all alone and I just thought I’d take the chance and ask if you wanted to go out with me sometime?”

You stare at him for a second, the question barely registering in your brain, before you snap out of it. Why not, you tell yourself, this might be good for you. Good to get the idea of Joel and you out of your head once and for all.

“I- um, yeah. Sure!”

You plaster a smile on your face and exchange phone numbers with Dan who promises to text you and gets up just as Joel comes back, scowling at Dan’s retreating back.

“Who was that?” he asks, and you wonder if you’re imagining his tone being colder than it was before he left.

“Just a guy,” you murmur, feeling embarrassed and weirdly guilty, “wanted to go out with me, I guess.”

“And, will you?” You’re not imagining it, Joel definitely sounds colder.

“Maybe. I don’t know. Who knows if he’ll even text me,” you shrug and stand up abruptly, suddenly desperate to get out of the situation, “let’s go.”

Joel’s answering huff doesn’t do much to calm you down and the walk back to the car is more silent than you’re used to with him, none of the usual bantering between you two.

He drops you off at your house and while you had planned to invite him in to maybe start wrapping your gifts together, you’re now kind of desperate to get out of this weird tension between you, so you just grab your bags and hop out of the truck. Joel mumbles his goodbye and you watch him drive off while you’re standing in your doorway, your eyebrows furrowed. You think that maybe something just soured his mood, even if you can’t fathom what it might have been, and calm yourself with the thought that you’ll just text him later.

You do just that, sending him a photo of your wrapped gifts a few hours after you got home, but he doesn’t respond. You don’t hear from him for several days, your calls remaining unanswered and there are no replies to your texts. You actually resort to asking Ellie if Sarah has said anything, but she’s just as clueless as you are.

The weekend rolls around and you go on your date with Dan, who, unlike someone else, has texted you. He takes you out for lunch and while the date is nice and he’s being polite, easy to have a conversation with and you’re fighting with yourself trying to like him, you’re bored.

You don’t feel any spark between the two of you, a spark that you, as you begrudgingly have to admit to yourself, always feel when you’re with Joel. You decidedly swallow that thought back down as soon as it occurs to you, but it stays in the back of your mind, like a kind of craving that you just can’t turn off.

You tell Dan that you’re sorry but that you don’t see the two of you turn into anything more, which he accepts graciously and wishes you all the best and you once again want to kick yourself for not feeling anything at all for this kind and blissfully uncomplicated man.

Grinding your teeth, you call Joel the next evening and to your surprise, he finally picks up.

“Where the hell have you been?” you demand without as much as a greeting.

“Just busy with work,” his voice huffs through the speaker and you can’t help but start feeling slightly more at ease at the sound of it, even if you don’t believe that he was too busy to contact you for days, but at least he picked up your call now.

“How’d your date go?”

He sounds… careful, like he’s not sure if he wants to know the answer. You’re confused for a second; you didn’t even have the chance to tell him about those plans; until your gaze falls on your sister who’s sitting on the couch opposite from you with headphones over her ears and frantically scribbling in her notebook.

“Between Sarah and Ellie, no secret is safe, huh?” you grin.

“So it’s a secret?” His voice is tense.

“I guess not, I just didn’t- I don’t know.” You huff a frustrated sigh. “But it doesn’t matter, I’m not gonna see him again, so…”

“Did he do something?” Joel demands immediately and you feel your cheeks warming at the way he switches into protective mode.

“No no, don’t get all riled up. He was nice, just… not it. I wasn’t really interested in him anyway, so.”

“Huh,” Joel mumbles and though you can’t see him, you can tell that some of the tension is dissolving.

You chat a little more, working out the finer parts of the plans for your shared Christmas celebration in a few days, and by the end of the phone call, you feel like things between you are back to normal.

It’s the second Christmas Eve that you’ve spent at the Miller household and it’s just as chaotic as the first one. Joel’s brother Tommy comes to visit, bringing with him a bottle of whiskey and an air of mischief that immediately infects the two girls who are already giddy with the energy of Christmas, the prospect of getting presents tomorrow morning and the inevitable sugar high that comes with consuming mountains of Christmas cookies.

Ellie and you are meant to sleep over, Ellie in Sarah’s room and you in the guest room, so you indulge in a few glasses of whiskey, feeling pleasantly tipsy and like a warm, hazy glow is surrounding you. You sing Christmas songs along to the radio with the girls, laugh loudly at Tommy’s crude jokes and even get Joel, who is slightly drunk himself, to dance with you for a few minutes.

When you finally retreat to the kitchen to get yourself a glass of water, you somehow already sense Joel’s presence behind you before he speaks up.

“Hey,” he murmurs as you turn around, his gaze trained on the floor at your feet.

“Hey,” you echo, searching his face, “what’s up?”

He rubs his neck, a mannerism that you’ve come to connect with him feeling uncomfortable.

“I’m sorry,” he starts, “I know I’ve been acting weird around you the past week, and…” he trails off again, still not meeting your gaze. Joel has never been good at expressing his feelings, and you can’t deny that you’re curious about what he’s going to say. You knew that it hadn’t been just about work stuff. Joel takes a deep breath, seemingly steeling himself for what he’s about to tell you.

“I didn’t- shit, I’m not good at this.” He rubs his neck again. “I didn’t want you to go out with that guy. And I know that that’s no excuse, but I wanted… I wanted you to go out with me. I’ve wanted that for quite some time, honestly. And I never knew how to tell you, I didn’t want to ruin the friendship that we have, but then that- that fuckin’ guy came along and I just thought, what if I had my chance and I missed it? But still, I shouldn’t have put that on you, I-”

You interrupt his rambling when you step into his space and place your hand on his upper arm, his gaze finally flying up to meet yours.

“You wanted… to go out with me?” you whisper, almost not able to believe what you’ve just heard.

“I- yes. I don’t mean to make you uncomfortable, I’ll never mention it again, I just wanted you to know.” He shrugs helplessly and you can’t help the smile that’s slowly growing on your face.

“Joel,” you murmur, taking another step closer to him. “I’d love to go out with you. I never thought- you never said anything, and I didn’t want to make things awkward between us, but…”

This might be it, the moment that you’ve always hoped for but never thought would happen.

“I like you. More than as a friend. I mean, I really like you.”

Now you’re avoiding his gaze, feeling heat flush your cheeks at your admission. You feel his fingers on your chin, tilting your face up to meet his warm brown eyes, so close to you.

“Guess we’ve both been kinda idiots,” he smirks.

A grin is slowly spreading on your face. “Guess so.”

He leans towards you and your eyes slowly close, just before his lips touch yours.

None of you are aware of the audience that’s observing the both of you from the living room.

“Fuckin’ finally,” Tommy mutters as he leans back into the couch and takes another sip of whiskey. Sarah and Ellie both sigh in agreement.

thank you so much for reading! if you liked it, please consider reblogging or leaving a comment - nothing would make me happier 🫶🏻

[90ekz]

do you think you could write hcs of jean with a softspoken gf? nobody writes for him fr it’s so sad

an! i love jean and this concept anon ! im a soft spoken girl myself so this really hits home 🥹 i hope you enjoy!!

jean as your boyfriend <3

SFW

when you two first started dated, jean was convinced that he hit the lottery. you were everything he ever wanted and he loved a girl that kept to herself.

jean sometimes takes you to wing houses & burger joints and watches with a huge smile as you try to order your food against the chaos of the other people conversing around you. you weren’t the biggest fan of having to yell in public, but you tried your best, and his heart melts everytime.

when you first met him at connie’s house warming party, you bumped into him, spilling the contents of your cup onto his white button up. jean had turned beet red as you stood on your tippy toes to whisper a hurried apology into his ear over the sound of the blaring music, while rushing to go get paper towels.

his favorite thing about you is how attentively you listen. it doesn’t matter what he’s talking about, you’ll be making eye contact and nodding along to whatever he has to say.

gets irritated with you during arguments, because you well… don’t engage. he could be giving a verbal, ten page, double spaced paper about how irritated he is with you, and you’ll just look at him like you’re bored.

“all i’m saying is that you don’t have to get aggressive with me over this. yes, i was at armin’s late and didn’t say anything, but i’ll tell you next time, okay? i’m sorry.” “okay.” “i said sorry, damn! stop yelling!”

you aren’t the biggest fan of confrontation, but he is. connect the dots yourself.

“SHE SAID NO GODDAMN TOMATO!” “it’s fine, i can just take them off—“ “not now, baby. gimme a sec, okay? anyway, FIX HER FUCKING BURGER!”

the two of you communicate so silently that it freaks your friends the hell out. when you want to go home, when you’re tired, when he’s needy, when he’s irritated? easy, simple eye contact will send you or him springing into action to fix the problem.

you may be quiet, but you love to laugh. jean doesn’t think he can think of anything more angelic-sounding than the sound of your genuine laughter, only for him.

jean had to learn how to be more tender when doing daily tasks. he was so used to slamming doors and stomping up stairs that he didn’t remember to adjust that behavior when you moved in.

(the first week you moved in, he’d thrown open the door to your bedroom and felt his chest squeeze as you almost tumbled out of your desk chair. now he puts three gentle taps on every door when he needs to come in.)

physical touch fanatic. end of discussion.

NSFW

lemme tell you, this man takes it to heart when you try to hold in your moans. you’re a little embarrassed with how loud you get, but nothing turns jean on more.

“nuh uh, lemme hear you—need to hear how good i’m making you feel, princess..”

during your first time together, he’d almost cum in his pants at the mere sound of your loud groans bouncing off the walls.

loves when you pull his hair more than anything. he takes it as a sign to go harder, fuck you deeper, and he obliges everytime. his cock throbs harder each time you run your fingers through his loose curls.

about 5.7 inches roughly, but thick. his cock flares as it goes downward; the head being the slimmest part. giving him head is fun, you think.

jean has this weird little fixation with your neck. it doesn’t matter what position he has you in, he’ll have a hand—or his mouth—running across the skin of your throat. backshots? he’s got a hand pressing against your nape to keep you in place. missionary? he’s massaging his thumb over your throat so tenderly that it should be illegal. cowgirl? he’s squeezing the sides of your neck while whispering about how good of a girl you’re being for him. he’s pretty damn weird.

his favorite thing to do is eat you out. you deny it, but your voice shoots up a whole octave when he massages your gspot with his two fingers of choice as he suckles on your swollen clit.

utterly surprised at how much you talk during sex. it almost embarrasses him how much you beg, scream, and whine for him. a mixture of ‘please’s’ and ‘fuck’s being infused in his head for eternity.

“oouu—shit, you’re so fucking loud…”

presses down on your stomach to feel where he is so he can try and go deeper… yeah.

tries to fuck your throat hoarse just to hear your raspy voice for a few hours. you’re such a trooper, just sitting there and taking it for him, even if he laughs at you after.

“babe, i’m so sorry—hahaha!” “this isn’t funny, i sound like t-pain!” “I LIKE THE BARRRTENDERRR—ouch, im sorry, i said i’m sorry!”

aftercare god. he’ll spend hours taking care of you, washing your back in the tub, greasing your scalp, making you tea and cookies, the whole nine. this man loves you deep.

[azsazz]

In Storm

Rancher!Cassian x Reader

Summary: You want a baby and Cassian looks all too good in his flannel.

Warnings: Conversation about having a baby.

Word Count: 1,098

Notes: The Cassian era is era-inggg

_________________________________________

Rainy mornings are your favorite.

The sky cracking open and letting her feelings loose means that you get to sleep in, that your husband’s warm body holds you tightly as rain patters the windows in pretty songs. It means gentle calloused hands roaming your curves, soft breaths as he mouths against your skin. It means a slow and sensual fucking with a steaming hot bath following, where you can lean back into the comfort of Cassian and rest the day away.

But rainy mornings are not his favorite.

You find your husband standing in front of the large windows of the living room, staring out into the expanse of land you get to call yours. Yesterday’s flannel hangs loose around his broad shoulders, unbuttoned from when he’d hastily thrown it on to examine the conditions of the farm under the onslaught of rain. His hair is tousled, not yet thrown up into a haphazard bun the way he does when he works up a sweat from milking the cows or fixing the fence. His feet are bare, just as yours are, the hardwood flooring holding a chilled bite to it as you near his side.

Stepping up next to Cassian, you gaze out the window as well. The weather hadn’t called for a storm but the springtime is unpredictable. The horses graze in the pasture, seemingly unaffected by the drizzling skies. Their coats are dark with water but they’re getting on with their days as if the sun is shining brightly. 

Lightning cracks the sky and Cassian grunts, displeased. You can see it in the downwards slope of his mouth that he’s unhappy with the fact that he hadn’t brought the animals in yesterday, when he knew he smelled the metallic tang of a storm creeping in.

“They’re animals,” you try to soothe, “They should be used to it.”

“I couldn’t give a rat’s ass about the stallions,” Cassian responds, not even sparing you a glance as he stares at the horses. “But my mares shouldn’t be out in this storm. Especially not Carrington. Ol’ girl can have that foal anytime now and she’s only out in the rain because you were adamant she needed ‘fresh air.’” His voice pitches at the end in a terrible impersonation of you and you scowl.

“So now it’s my fault?” you ask, incredulously. Cassian lets you sidle up to his side anyway, slipping between the opening of his flannel and his bare chest. You nearly growl with delight because he’s so warm. Turning your head, you press your lips to his pec. “You’re grumpy when it rains.”

“‘M grumpy because there’s chores that need to be done,” Cassian sighs, wrapping an arm around your waist. “I should go out there.” 

Out there looks miserable. The trail leading up to the barn is muddy, puddles of rain scattering the path. The rain has kept its steady pour since you’d come down here to find your husband, and if you think he’s grumpy now, you know he’d be absolutely miserable after working out in the rain all day.

“Or, you can stay in here and we can spend a little time together,” you drawl, trailing your fingers along his chest. His muscles clench the closer to his waistline that you get. 

His hazel gaze cuts down to yours, “Last night wasn’t enough for you?” Cassian muses, eyes sparkling in the way that you know you have him. 

“Won’t be enough for me until I look like your best girl Carrington out there, nice and full with child.” 

Cassian’s fingers still from where they’re tracing patterns on your hip. “You really want one, don’t you?” He asks softly.

You shrug. It hasn’t been something you’ve talked about much, a child. Cassian is busy running the ranch and ever since Rhysand and Feyre moved closer to the hustle and bustle of the city to raise Nyx, you haven’t had anyone to really talk to besides the mares. And they just whinny and snort at everything you say. 

“It would mean extra hands around the farm,” you try to play off, cheeks heating. You slide from his side, eager to dispel the conversation your husband surely doesn’t want to have at this very moment. Not while Carrington is getting rained on, Gods forbid. “What do you want for breakfast? Pancakes? An omelet? I just gathered the eggs yesterday morning so they’ll be nice and fresh.”

“Hey,” Cassian calls gently, snagging your hand as you try to dip away. He tugs you back to his chest, bushing some of your sleep mussed hair from your face, tucking it behind your ear so he can caress your cheek. His hazel eyes search yours, and the frown tugging his lips downward makes your heart ache. “Don’t walk away from me, sweetheart. You want a baby?”

Your eyes well with tears the longer he stares at you. His brows are pulled tight as he waits patiently for your response. The emotion in your throat is thick, but you nod, voice coming out raspy with it when you answer. “More than anything.” 

Cassian nods a little, taking in your answer. His throat bobs but he’s agreeing, nodding firmer. “Then let’s have one.” 

Your entire body locks up at his words. You didn’t think it would be so easy to convince him. All you had to do all of this time was ask? Surely, that is not the case.

But Cassian would be so wonderful with a child in his arms. He’d love them just as perfectly as he loves you, as he cares for the animals of his ranch. You’ve seen him with the foals and chicks and lambs. How he holds each one with care and parades them around the ranch, kissing their little heads and talking to them in soft voices. He’s made to be a father, even if he doesn’t know it himself.

“We’re trying to have a baby,” you breathe, clutching onto him. An all-consuming feeling rushes through your body, nerves perhaps, because holy shit, you and Cassian are going to try for a baby. “We’re trying for a baby!”

Cassian grins, mirroring your excitement. He pulls you into his arms and you lock your legs around his waist immediately, diving down to capture his mouth against yours. The kiss is exhilarating, hot and sensual as they both of you settle into the feeling that maybe this time next year, it could be you giving birth instead of Carrington.

You could not be more excited for the adventure you and your husband are about to embark on.

[i-smoke-chapstick]

hiiii! I hope you’re doing well!!

I saw the post about Gotham X readers and I was wondering if you could write a Dom!riddler x fem!sub!reader smut where he doesn’t let reader finish until she gets his riddles right and it leads to her being overstimulated?

Thanks in advance!

‘THE HILLS,

-GOTHAM!EDWARD NYGMA X READER-

⋆ 𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒 ; Since killing oswald, ed’s at a breaking point and needs to get his mojo back.

⋆ tags/warnings. GOTHAM!riddler x female reader. smut!! pure porn, no plot. sub/dom dynamics. orgasm denial. degradation, dumbification of reader. Eddie needs to let some frustrations out. First time writing penetrative sex so hopefully it’s good! Also, thank you anon, i love this idea.

♫ “When I'm fucked up, that's the real me” The Hills by The Weeknd

Oh, he's been an absolute wreck. Ever since the falling out with Oswald, hyped on those god forsaken pills. You catch him mumbling to himself often, yelling and screaming at his reflection at night. You can hardly sleep.

He's absolutely fucked up. You can tell. You've known him forever, and you know the signs. The sweat on his brow, disheveled hair, loose tie. His hands rub together insistently, babbling on to you. He needs a nemesis, a stress reliever. He tells you about the hallucination of Oswald- he needs a replacement. Something to fuel him, make him the Riddler he knows he is.

So, you offered your...technique. It was simple- just distract him for a moment from his desperate scheming. He looked at you like you were absolutely crazy at first.

"...You want to what?" He growled out, slowly, legs sprawled across an arm chair, rubbing his temple. He looked like a mess. A hot mess.

After elaborating, he still looked at you incredulously. His mind was racing with thoughts, about how this could fix him. Before you knew it, he was gradually standing up, wrapping a hand around your throat and gently kissing you.

The soft and gentle kisses turned more and more raw. His hands gripped tight around your throat, sure to leave a mark, and he groaned as he held your leg up. You messily and hastily kissed your way to the bedroom; which is where you are now.

His suit jacket thrown on the floor, your blouse unbuttoned. You lay bare beneath him, gasping for air between hot open-mouthed kisses he lays everywhere.

"Ed-" You struggle out, feeling his fingers plunge inside you. It's a bit painful, and he only mumbles incoherently, he's in a hurry.

"SHUT up." He growls out against you, "I'm thinking."

His fingers rapidly work on you, prepping you as fast as possible. You whimper and he doesn't seem to pay any attention. When the sounds of your wet slick finally fill the room in messy, sopping noises- he looks up at you with his glasses on his face.

He raises himself up from your thighs, staring at you with a vague look of intrigue. It's a small gesture to ask if you're ready.

When you nod, he buries himself in to the crook of you're neck.

"...Wonderful." He whispers.

He finally breaks out in a shit-eating grin, giggling maniacally at your pleading writhing form.

Removing his fingers, his grin stands still, and suddenly rams his cock inside your slit.

You both let out an embarrassingly loud noise at this, his low groan filling the room as he grimaces in pleasure. You feel your eyes roll back as he rams himself into you, filling you up to the hilt. His hand grasps your neck once more, slightly choking you.

He mumbles theatrically in your ear, and you realize just why he wanted to do this.

"I can fill a room with just one heart. Others can have me, but I can't be shared," He begins, thrusting into you. He struggles to speak himself as he feels you clench around his member. "What am I?"

You want to scream at him, damn riddles. You swallow when he drags his cock along your cunt and chokes you a bit more, as to prompt an answer.

"L-love?" You stumble out, only to yelp when his face contorts into rage. His movements stop and you whine.

"What...? No." He snarls at you, and looks down on you- like your the stupidest, weakest, most pathetic thing he's ever seen. "No!?...The- the answer is loneliness?!"

He rolls his eyes, jaw clenched. He continues his degradation with another harsh squeeze to your throat and an agonizingly slow thrust.

"How do you not know that?" He taunts you, anger on his face. But you can see it in the glint of his eyes. He's enjoying this.

He huffs as his thrusts gradually slow down.

"Second." He mutters, feigning exasperation- as if dealing with you, fucking you- is the most tiresome thing in the world. As if he's so above you in every way.

"I can be a member of a group, but never blend in. What am I?" You feel your orgasm building up beside yourself- the way he's choking you out and has you going dumb around his cock.

When you feel the knot building up inside you, you don't answer- and he stops in his tracks.

"I give up!" You whine, incoherently, trying to bounce for any friction, but he has you pinned in place. Tall frame hanging over you. "I give up," You plead- and something in him snaps.

His hand shoves your neck even further in the mattress, and a loud slap rings out. You feel the burning on your cheek and look up at him stunned. It doesn't hurt too badly, and all you can do is struggle to regain your breath. You let out a deep inhale and feel his dick slip back and forth between your pussy lips.

He looks at you, a bit pitifully, and a bit disappointed- wrathful. His teeth are bared and he looks desperate.

"Answer me." He growls out in your ear, and you rack your brain for an answer.

His cock is teetering inside you, teasing you- fucking you at whichever pace he decides. It's leisurely and steady, and you swear you can feel him stretching you out beyond you thought was possible. You need more.

"An individual." You finally settle on, having vaguely read it in a riddle book when you were younger. Your words come out in a whine; and look to him for approval.

He seems a bit upset that you've answered correctly, stopping the fun. But in a huff, he praises you.

"...Good." He hisses, and decides to finally give you what you want. He gradually speeds up and your orgasm builds repeatedly, and you feel fulfilled.

Until...he stops, one last time.

You grab him by his hair, frustrated beyond belief, before he whispers.

"Call me the Riddler." Is all he says, and you look him in the eye. He's lost in pleasure too, and you can tell he's fighting for control as well. It's strangely vulnerable, and comes off as more of a plead. Desperate for release himself; as if he isn't the architect for his own frustration.

"Please," You decide to let him win, "Riddler, please...!" You breathe shakily, whining the words.

And with that, he finally lets himself go.

His hips slam into you relentlessly- chasing his own climax. It's hard and rough and fast, and his fingertips dig into your neck. He's baring his teeth again and grunting, pushing you both into the mattress. He captures your lips and tongue in a kiss when he finally spasms inside of you, both of you reaching your peak. The aftershocks hit you hard, and he buckles overtop of you, cock still twitching inside.

He collapses into your shoulder, and he's mumbling and muttering and ranting unintelligible "thank you's" and apologies for hitting you.

Funny enough, it's the most relaxed you've seen him in weeks.

[harlowhockeystick]

22- So High School with Princess and Nolan pleeeeeeeaase 🫶🏻

"you knew what you wanted, and boy you got her" | poetic prompts | warnings: anxiety, panic attacks, chaos, weddings

it was everything they could imagine, even though it was the most stressful day of their life.

the wedding day had finally approached. after almost five years of dating, a year of being engaged, the day arrived. typical wedding day jitters fell upon both parties, the usual last minute thoughts and touch ups, nothing prepared either of them for the massive chaotic crowd that was waiting outside the venue.

even though the bridal party did their best to keep it away from y/n, she knew that the flowers hadn't been delivered, the photographer was an hour late, and the shuttle was also late. as a group they decided to push the wedding back at least an hour to make room for adjustments. but nothing, absolutely nothing, was going to stop her from getting married today.

not even a nervous groom.

"y/n, i need to talk with you for a second." her maid of honor whispered in her ear. she was about to get in her dress, hair and makeup done and set, ready for pictures when the photographer would arrive. stepping to the side in her silk robe and slippers, she felt her stomach drop. god, what now?

"no bullshit. i know we're all done with that today, but you need to talk to nolan. travis texted me saying he is having a panic attack and won't come out of the bathroom. all of this massive chaos is probably freaking him out too," y/n was handed a tissue when she felt tears well up in her eyes, "no no, no crying, it'll all be okay. i'll go with you?"

"no, i can do it. when the photographer gets here y'all go ahead and take pictures and just wait for me."

walking across the venue and where the guys were getting ready, she knocked on the door and was greeted by travis. she made sure all the guys left before talking to nolan. it was like his soul knew she was there before she spoke. a few seconds before she knocked on the door he felt his breathing steady out.

"nolie it's me, please open the door. nobody else is here, just you and me." she softly spoke. he got up, leaning his forehead against the wooden door with a soft thud.

"it's bad luck to see each other before the wedding," his thick accent present in how he spoke, sniffling after he finished. he heard her giggle and slide her slippers across the wooden floor.

"we've had enough bad luck today, so i think we're gonna be okay." he unlocked the door then leaned against the wall, waiting for her to open it. her heart softened when she opened the door, noticed that he'd been crying a lot with tear tracks down his cheeks. his shirt was unbuttoned and his hair was messy. "oh baby," she placed her hand on his cheek, wiping another tear away.

"'m sorry, princess." he took in a sharp breath before letting out another cry. "i just got really nervous, y'know? i mean what if i'm not a good husband? i don't want you to get sick of me and...and leave."

she tucks a lock of loose hair behind his ear, grabbing a tissue from the counter and wiping his cheeks and nose for him. "if i was gonna get sick of you, i would have left by now." she kisses his forehead softly, "remember when we went on our first date? you were so confident, and it was really hot." nolan chuckled, "and when you came to the shop like ten times that next week? you knew what you wanted, and you got her. you got me, and i'm not going anywhere. i'm gonna be your wife, you're gonna be my husband, and we're gonna have a happily ever after together."

nolan places a hand on her cheek as she spoke, a smile on his lips and this time, happy tears filling his eyes. they share a sweet and emotional kiss, one she hopes to recreate in an hour at the altar. they pull apart and she helps nolan fix his tie and to get rid of some of the tear tracks on his cheeks.

"alright, nothing is stopping me from getting married to you today." nolan laughs with his head thrown back, "i'll see you in an hour," she walks to the door of the groomsmen suite, "i'll be the one in a pretty white dress." nolan kissed her on the cheek.

"i'll be the one waiting for you at the altar, princess."

[who-knew-a-sheep-can-write]

To See Red: Bigby Wolf x Fem!Reader (NSFW)

Includes: Werewolf transformation, werewolf sex, biting, knotting, lingerie

I need to see what he looks like in TWAU2, please Telltale I need to have more content for horny things

Reader isn’t red riding hood, just wearing the color red

You knew Bigby was the hardest worker here in Fabletown. Getting ridiculous amounts of complaints, being threatened every day he’s on duty, punched and thrown around like a ragdoll, being told to do even more for this corrupted town, and being constantly reminded of what he did in the past was not what he signed up for upon taking up the sheriff position. He was underappreciated and taken advantage of constantly. It had to be one of the wonders of the world how Bigby did not snap yet. Nobody seemed to appreciate him, nobody handing out a thank you or offering him kind words.

Nobody else but you.

It seemed that as soon as you entered Bigby’s life, all of the bullshit Fabletown threw at his face didn’t seem to matter anymore. He was always eager to hurry back to his apartment to see you waiting there or even across Fabletown to your apartment and spend the night only to not want to leave come morning. He even kept the phone on the hook when you weren’t around which was something he would never do for anyone else.

You knew he always loved it when you would show up at his apartment and wait for him whether it was with dinner or just to talk and spend more time together.

And so, you laid on his chair lazily, one leg was thrown over the arm and the other resting normally, waiting for him to return home so he can have a different type of treat.

Your legs were wrapped in sheer black knees highs held in place with shiny leather garters. Shiny red heels adorned your feet, glistening from the streetlights filtering through the windows behind you.

You had turned Bigby’s precious chair just a bit so it would face the door upon his arrival.

Just north of the garters was a pair of black laced panties covered by a red babydoll dress. Silky and just as red as your shoes, there was a golden sheen to the material too. Between your breasts sat the littlest black bow.

Your hair was loose, your makeup light; You had a feeling that too much makeup would make such a big mess that you didn’t feel like you wanted to clean up tomorrow morning. The most prominent thing painted on your face was your lips, painted a glossy and vibrant red to go with your clothes.

You heard the distant chime of the elevator, the groaning metal doors finally opening. The damned thing needed to be fixed years ago but Crane never did anything about it and Snow is too busy to even think about it now.

You heard a familiar set of footsteps head down the hallway and stop just a little ways away from the door. You smirked, keeping your eyes locked to the door you had purposely left open just a crack.

You knew he could smell you. The air smelled of your perfume, teasing him closer until he pushed his way through the door.

You felt something stir inside of you when you saw him in the doorway. His shoulders squared, his breathing starting to become labored, his eyes gold like the streetlights outside.

“Welcome home,” you smiled sweetly, leaning back against the overstuffed chair a little more.

Bigby stood at the doorway for a bit, almost like he was trying to piece together what is happening right now. You’ve never done anything like this before.

It took him nearly five minutes to finally step fully into the apartment and close the door behind him with a kick of his heel. He approached you slowly, eyes pinned on yours, daring you to look away from him.

Your heart was pounding in your chest, your face felt hot, you felt sparks in your stomach. The primal look in his eyes, the way he’s already setting thicker with muscle, the claws flexing from fingers and the fangs you want him to just sink into your warm flesh and oh fuck.

Before you could process anything, Bigby had snatched you off of the chair and hoisted you over his broad shoulder and marched into his bedroom. His grip on you was tight, fingers flexing on your back. You grabbed onto Bigby’s shirt, the muscles in his back were flexing and stretching, growing harder and hairier under your grasp to the point where his shirt was snug against his flesh.

Bigby threw you onto the bed, you let out a startled scream as you bounced on the poor mattress.

The sheriff before you looked rugged and wild. His white button-up was looking woefully stretched against growing muscles and thick fur. Bigby did his best to pull off his tie and belt, but soon the poor shirt tore as fur burst through ripped seams with his pants following soon after.

The wolfman quickly shed his shredded clothes, brawny body covered in soft fur you wanted to grab on to as he fucked your brains out. You saw how hard he was, saw how big he was.

You’ve only been fucked by him like this once and that was after he was “human”. If lingerie made him like this at first glance, you wondered what else could happen should you try something else.

He towered over the bed, towered over you. Most would be terrified of the scene before you; Your lover being some big and hairy monster with vicious fangs and wicked claws. But you were oh so turned on by him.

Bigby snatched at your ankle and dragged you close to the bed’s edge, catching your chest with his other clawed hand. You knew this looked like one of those raunchy painted book covers for one of those old romance novels of a woman falling in love with a beast.

Bigby sliced off the pair of panties with his claws, snarling at you when you made a noise of disapproval. Bigby hiked your ankle up in the air, his grip around the joint tight, his claws sinking into the material of your knee-high.

Bigby leaned down and licked a warm and wet stripe up your pussy, a loud moan suddenly leaving your lips as just the one action made it just a little harder to breathe. Bigby only gave you one more lick, his rough tongue doing wonders inside of you, making the coils tighten just a little bit more. He pulled away and you whined, wanting more, craving more.

There was a tap at your passage, Bigby entered into you slowly, giving you time to adjust to how thick he was. You gasped and moaned, clutching the sheets and arching your back into the stretch. You loved how full he made you feel, you loved the pain of the stretch, you love how warm he was.

Bigby wasted no time with thrusting, starting slow but he quickly sped up. Your stomach was fluttering, your skin was glistening with sweat, your face and neck felt so hot. Bigby leaned down and licked a stripe up from your bouncing breasts up the side of your neck, immediately biting your shoulder.

The stretch, the warmth, the pace he was going, it wasn’t a surprise that you came apart so quickly under him. The wolfman chuffing, he quickened his pace inside of you as you came apart. Every thrust rubbed your insides just the right way and you loved it.

The neighbors surely would be pissed with the noise, but who was going to complain? He was the sheriff, there was nothing anyone could do to stop him from fucking the life out of you if he wanted to.

You grabbed onto his shoulders, fingers twisting in the soft fur and pulling, earning you a growl from Bigby and a snap of his jaws to warn you. You grinned and tugged again, Bigby suddenly thrusting into you harsher, hips snapping at supernatural speeds. He was chasing euphoria, he wanted to mark you as his on the inside like he does on the outside. Paint you insides white, bite your neck so everyone knows you’re spoken for. He dreams of nothing else but to be with you, to fuck you, to love you as long as you two live.

Bigby came with a roar, throwing his head back as his shoulders slumped. You cried, tucking your head back into the sheets as you felt a flood of warmth pool inside of you.

Bigby quickly pulled out of you once his climax had come to an end, only giving you a brief moment to breathe before he grabbed onto you by your hips and flipped you over onto your stomach. Bigby hoisted you up so you were on your hands and knees, his cum leaking out of your abused hole and onto the bed below you.

You whimpered when you felt another tap at your passage, your eyes wide in shock. He was hard again, and he wasted no time in rentering.

Thrusts were sloppy, the bed rocked and hit the wall and rattled the pictures on the wall.

It was going to be hard to walk in the morning.

[wayfayrr]

Good day dear!

I want to order a Red Velvet spiked latte, sugar-free! I'm craving Warriors in a qpr, and I'm having one of those days involving being Aromantic :')

I hope you're doing well; please and thank you 🙏🙏🙏

Here's your order - I hope it's to your liking <3

I get having those days, sometimes they just like to sneak up on you without any warning and it's the worst ;-; I know it's a bit late but I hope wars can make you feel better darling

[Event masterlist]

Why did the portal have to split us up and spit me and wars out in the hebra region of all places. Did the shadow get sick of throwing monsters at us and decide to off us with hypothermia? Even with that, why drop us off in a cave rather than in the snow?

“You still have our bed rolls right? I’m not entirely sure we’ll make it through the night if we don’t have them and I’d really prefer to not risk losing any limbs.”

Oh, no, no, no, don’t look through your bag then at me like that. That shy smile with those adorable eyes, like you’re waiting to tell me you don’t have them. I could have sworn that he had packed them both away in there this morning, did my own eyes lie to me? 

“Only one of them is still intact, I think the other one started tearing this morning and seeing as legend has the group's only sewing kit…”

“So we shouldn’t risk making it any worse till we can fix it but this cold it’s sure to be worse at night.”

“If we light a fire and sleep in shifts it shouldn’t be so bad.”

This is how people die, I’ve seen it in films back home, and I’ve heard stories of overzealous climbers perishing to the cold, I refuse to let us become like them. Even if it is being over cautious. 

“We could share the last bedroll and use the torn one as an extra blanket. If we scout out the cave and push some of those loose boulders into the entrance we most likely won’t need to take shifts.”

“You’d be alright with sleeping like that when there’s no one on lookout?”

“Any other way and it might only be one of us waking up tomorrow if we’re lucky.”

I’m not sure he likes that suggestion, he’s glancing around and biting his lip like something is wrong. Any link to be uncomfortable with the idea, wars makes the most sense. He’s the captain, someone who’s had to live through too many betrayals and ambushes to stay sane, why wouldn’t he be nervous of being alone like this? I’d like to hope he knows that I wouldn’t ever betray him though, why would his partner do something like that to him? 

“if you're alright with it then, I don't want to make you uncomfortable being that close?”

That's what he's worried about right now? my comfort over us freezing to death, is he out of his mind?

“I'm certain, it'd be far more uncomfortable waking up to the frozen corpse of my closest.”

“...”

“did you really not consider that?”

“I just want to make sure you're safe… if that means killing myself… well anything for you.”

Was that drilled into him during his training, that he should be willing to die like this for any reason? With the blush on his face I would say otherwise though, why would he get so flustered over something like this. We’re talking about his potential death here, not some vacation together.

"Wars you idiot why would you let yourself die of hypothermia if there's such an easy solution?"

“I didn’t want to think about that but you’re right. We need to stay as warm as we can.”

Finally, that’s gotten through his thick skull that I don’t want him sacrificing himself for something as stupid as that. So we can get to preparing our very hasty camp for the night, with his scouting showing we’ll be free of any monsters and my efforts in shifting a couple of rocks closing most of the entrance. The two bed-rolls thrown on top of each other look more inviting than anything I’ve seen in a long while. 

“After you.”

“Sure.”

It is not as warm as it looked. “Stop looking so uncertain, I promise I’m not going to suddenly stab you in your sleep.”

“That’s not what I’m…”

The squeak that left him when I pulled him down on top of me was cute. He’s redder than I’ve ever seen him too, but that started to die down after I pulled the makeshift blankets over us, or it might’ve, not that I could see it after turning over anyway. 

“Night link.”

Not even an answer then. He must be a bit flustered still. Nothing even as my eyes flutter closed, when I feel a very soft weight on my side, keeping me barely awake to hear what he says, but not enough to respond.

“Would you be bothered if we never reunited with the others? I’m all you’ll ever need right… I’m sure we could find a way back to your world, even if I have to call in a few overdue favours. They wouldn’t even need to know we’re still alive… just you and I forever. Wouldn’t that be nice?”

What?

“Even if you don’t know what I’m really looking for we can start tomorrow. Sleep well darling, I hope you’re warm enough like this…”

[sorinethemastermind]

Shared Memories

In which Corvus helps Soren reconcile his memories of his father, and they make a horrifying discovery. #Sorvus

 Corvus hadn’t meant to fall asleep. He’d been convinced that, if he did, he would awaken to an empty spot on the ground beside him. At best, Soren would be out in the camp helping Opeli or one of the other guards. At worst, he’d have set out in an attempt to single handedly slay the dragon that had destroyed Katolis. Corvus thought that the latter was improbable, but knowing Soren, not out of the question. His boyfriend could be rather stupid at times.

 His boyfriend. 

 Corvus didn’t know that a single word could make you both smile and grimace at the same time. Apparently it could also make you incredibly, exceedingly, enormously, worried. 

 The spot next to him on the ground was, in fact, empty. But he would never know whether Soren was about to set out on a stupidly dangerous and self-assigned quest or was simply going to get a drink of water, for he had yet to exit the tent.

 “Oh, uh, Corvus. Sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you up.” Soren said, his smile wide and guilty. 

 “I’m sure you didn’t.” Corvus replied, sitting up as much as he could under the low canvas roof. “But luckily you did.”

 “Is my absence already so unbearable?” he asked, but Corvus wasn’t about to let him get out of trouble that easily.

 “No. You’re just very bad at sneaking. Especially in full armor.” At least, that was what he assumed had awoken him. Given that Soren’s every movement sounded like someone clanging pots and pans together. “Are you going to tell me where you’re going?”

 Soren looked back out of the tent, the flap still held open in one hand. There was a long pause, and Corvus was beginning to wonder if he really had planned to go after the dragon - what else would he have known Corvus would disapprove of so much? - when Soren turned back to him, expression unreadable, voice low and serious.

 “I need to show you something.”

 Corvus didn’t ask, he simply followed his friend into the dark night. It wasn’t often that he got to see past Soren’s wide smiles and charming - infuriating? - humor. So when he did, he listened.

 Soren led him away from the camp, sticking to the shadows until they were well out of sight. Neither of them said anything as they trekked through the quiet darkness; the only sound the occasional snap of a twig underfoot. Until Corvus saw it through the trees and let out a small, involuntary gasp.

 He and King Ezran had gone right to where they knew the encampment was, and this was the closest he had been to the wreckage. The roofs of most of the buildings had collapsed, charred beams sticking out at odd angles like the broken limbs of some mighty titan. Stones and bricks scattered the ground, thrown out into the middle of the road by the sheer impact of the dragon’s attacks. But far more devastating than any destroyed building were the remnants of the lives they had once held. 

 Corvus saw a stuffed toy, scorched and blackened, dropped onto the cobbles in the chaos. His tracker's instincts kicked in and he could practically see the child; running with one hand clutched in their parent’s grip, the other hanging on for dear life to their doll. A stumble on a loose stone, a split second’s shock, and the hand holding the toy released. No thought was given to it as they continued their mad dash away from the flames but, later, the child would sit in the small tent given to their family and wish they had something, anything to remember their home by. Their childhood. All of it stripped away so suddenly. 

 It took Soren’s hand on his shoulder for Corvus to realize he had stopped in the middle of the street, staring at the little doll lying there on the cobbles. Soren bent down and picked it up, brushing off some of the soot and ash that had collected on it.

 “It’s a little beat up,” he said. “but we can fix it. Give it back to the kid. I’m sure they’ll be happy to see a familiar face.”

 Neither of them said it, but Corvus was sure that both of them thought it. That perhaps there was no child to return this toy to. That maybe they were still here, buried in this rubble, forgotten along with their doll. Corvus blinked quickly, shoving the thought from his mind. 

 “You wanted to show me something?”

 “Yeah.” Soren tucked the toy away and began to walk, not towards the castle as Corvus had expected, but down the street and away from it. 

 He didn’t ask. Soren would tell him when he was ready.

 Instead he fell into step beside him, their strides quickly falling into rhythm as they made their way down the road and through the city. The damage wasn’t as bad down here, though few places remained unscathed. Corvus tried to keep his eyes on the road, but it wasn’t much better than staring at the scarred and abandoned buildings that lined it. So, instead, he found his gaze wandering to Soren.

 The steady set of his shoulders. The many days of stubble along his jaw that was beginning to resemble a beard. The slight saunter to the way he walked, even now. The way those steps came to an abrupt halt as they arrived at-

 Corvus gasped aloud, gaze traveling up the great skeleton that lay before them. The dragon. It had to be. But…

 “How?” he asked, voice barely more than an awed breath. 

 “Don’t know.” Soren said, voice suddenly raspy. “He was like this when I found him.” 

 Corvus took a few steps forward, gazing up at the great bones of the creature that had taken so much from them. It was no wonder they had evacuated the castle. How were you even supposed to take down a titan of this size? And yet, somehow, they had. Or, somebody had.

 “That isn’t what I wanted to show you, though.” Soren said, still standing a few steps behind him, not having moved. Corvus turned back to face him, confused.

 “Then what..” he trailed off, following Soren’s gaze. 

 A small mound of fresh earth. A pile of stones. A sword, struck into the ground. Soren’s sword.

 Corvus knew immediately what it was. Who it had to be. 

 “Soren-”

 “I- I know he probably shouldn’t be here.” Soren was already saying, cutting him off. “But I couldn’t leave him there. I- I couldn’t leave him. Not again.” 

 It only took a few steps to cross the distance between them, and then Corvus’ arms were around him. He didn’t say anything, just let Soren bury his head in his shoulder until his shoulders stopped shaking and his breathing had slowed. Then he guided the pair of them to a nearby stone bench and sat him down, his hand never leaving Soren’s. And he listened.

 Listened as Soren talked about… about things Corvus couldn’t even begin to imagine. About how hard it was to breathe. And about how much you took it for granted before you couldn’t anymore. About how his father would sit up with him long into the night. About how he was… how he was a good Dad. Back then. How Soren had wanted to be just like him. Looked up to him. Wanted to make him proud.

 “I owed it to him, didn’t I? He- he saved my life.” Soren said, voice thick with barely contained emotion. “I owe him my life.”

 “You don’t owe him anything.” Corvus said, squeezing his hand. Letting Soren lean heavily against his shoulder. “Your life is yours.”

 “But it isn’t, really.” Soren whispered into his shoulder. “He gave it to me.”

 There were a million things Corvus wanted to say and a million things he still didn’t understand. That he probably never would. He couldn't imagine living a life that you thought really belonged to someone else. But he did know one thing. 

 “That’s right. He gave it to you. It’s yours. He did everything he could so that you could have it. So that you could live it to the fullest. So… do that.”

 Soren looked up at him, that familiar determined look in his eyes. The one that Corvus loved so much. He straightened up and the two of them stared across the valley at the grave of… of a father. Of a king. Of a man.

 “I think the worst part is that… that on some level I still want him to be proud of me.” Soren said quietly.

 “He would be. He is.”

 As they watched, a butterfly, its wings so thin as to be nearly translucent, its bright colors like a beacon in the dark, fluttered over to land on the pommel of the sword. It stood utterly still for a moment, like a painting, before it opened its wings again and flitted into the dark. 

 Soren released a long, slow breath. “Don’t tell anyone he’s here. Please?”

 “I won’t.”

 Soren leaned against his shoulder again and wrapped an arm around his waist. Corvus tucked an arm around Soren’s shoulder, resting his cheek atop his head, and they sat like that until the night sky began to pinken and the clouds turned a beautiful blush color. 

 As the sun began it’s slow climb across the sky, it’s light caught on something just at the corner of Corvus’ vision and he turned to glance at it. 

 “Soren, what is that?” he asked, straightening up to try and get a better look.

 Soren looked up at him, expression bleary as he was pulled out of a half slumber. He followed his gaze, and Corvus saw his eyes go wide, his weariness forgotten in an instant as he shot to his feet.

 “What-” he tried to ask, but Soren was already running. Corvus followed him past the body of the fallen dragon and up the steps of the dais. Scattered on the ground was an empty bowl, a knife, a burnt out candle, and…

 “No.” Soren was on his knees, lifting up the round object. It was a dull gray orb, perfectly smooth, its surface faintly mottled. “No, no, no.”

 “Soren, what is that?”

 “She wouldn’t have. She couldn’t have-” Soren looked up at him, eyes wild. “It was with Callum, wasn’t it? I should have gone back to check. But I thought-”

 “Soren!” Corvus grabbed him by the shoulders. “What is it?”

 “He’s out. He’s out, Corvus. Aaravos is free.”

[bella-is-sleepy]

Rise! Donatello x Female! Smart/nerd reader!

Y/n’s Pov:

YAYY ITS FINALLY DONE!! I finished that one project. I made a cute collar for my pet dog, P/N! It was in f/c, and it has a tracker….. Because when I walk her/him they somehow get loose, and they run off. She/he does it for FUN!!

Not that P/N doesn’t like me; It’s just because they’re very energetic dog. Like they choose to be calm or crazy each day. Like gurl/boi pick a side!

I was putting on my doggy, until I heard my alarm go off-wait…? WHAT—!!?? I hurried over to my backpack and snatched it up off the floor running to my door, and out the apartment.

I made it to school; where which April was in the computer lab/room. I Pulled out a chair & took a seat next to her. “Hey girl!” I gave her a smile and replied “Hey April, how was your weekend?” She gave a hm In acknowledgement “Oh, Yea it was okay, I mostly just binged watched movies with my mom.” I gave a sad smile, but April didn’t see because she looked back at the computer.

I wish my parents wouldn’t fight ALL THE TIME; I just want them to get along, you know? She started typing for a project that we were working on together. Then I see that she texted someone on her phone. With the contact ‘Bootyyyshaker9000’ why did that sound familiar?

Five minutes later we were both talking about the work. Then all of a sudden me and April here “Psst, April” then three ninja starts get thrown into the table and they say ‘I’m here’ The April looked up and gasped the I look up as well and see…DONNIE?!?!

What the hell is he doing hanging from the lights?? The he Yelps “Whoa!” She the says “Hey Donnie, Thanks for coming” he then gets on a spiny-chair. “No probbles. I love this place!”

“Wait, April You know Donnie??” She looks at me confused “Y/N?? How do you know Donnie?!” The in the back me and April hear Dee say “Smells like learning and puberty.!” I gave her that awkward face I do when I hide things “Well….You see…uhhh, how do I say this? This is the Boy I was talking about last time…” She was SHOCKED!! Like this face type of shocked. (꒪Д꒪)ノ (WHEN, WHERE, HOW??)

“Oh hey y/n, You know April?” April grabbed him by the shoulders and started shaking him like a rag doll! “This is the girl you were telling me about???!!” She stops and he fixes his googles and continues to speak “So what do you guys need help with?” “Our computer science project, we just need you to check the code.” I gave her this face ヽ(#`Д´)ﾉ “GIRL, I SAID I COULD DO IT IM JUST AS SMART HIM!”

(Sorry i havent been posting! should i continue this story?)

[moamidzyism]

my everything (k.th)

☆。.:*·ﾟwc 604 angst (with a happy (?) ending) ౨ৎ ୨୧ taehyun x gn!reader, musician!taehyun, exes to ??? [masterlist • reblogs + feedback appreciated]

hi! i saw your new album came out. i just wanted to let you know that i listened to it and it’s really good and i’m so so proud of you. i know how much time and effort work you put into it and it came out so fucking good. i knew you could do it, tae. i knew you could. i always believed in you. … god… i don’t even know why i’m doing this. this is so embarrassing. i think i-i just wanted you to know that i’m thinking about you and i-i really miss you, as much as i try to deny it. i don’t think i have all the words to fully say what i want to say to you. but i know that i don’t deserve you. i really don’t. you were so perfect to me and i took all your love and patience for granted. you don’t need to know this and i don’t know why i’m putting this all on you when we broke up like what four months ago but i don’t think i’ve spent a day since then not crying. god, i fucking miss you so much. and i hate myself… i hate myself so much for only realizing how good you were to me, how perfect you were, how much i love you, now that we’re not together anymore. fuck… i’m going to go now. i think i’ve embarrassed myself enough. i know this isn’t going to fix anything but i’m really sorry for everything. i should have been better. i should have tried harder. for you. for us. goodbye tae. congratulations.

taehyun had just gotten home to get ready for his album listening party when he received your voicemail. he was just going to ignore it. he was just going to get ready, go to a party that was thrown in celebration of him for all the hard work that he had done in the last year and a half. he was just going to let loose for one night and have fun with his friends, his family, and all the people who were there for him during this time.

but taehyun had two fatal flaws – his curiosity and his penchant for falling weak wherever you were concerned.

and so he fell for your trap once again, sitting on his couch and pressing play on you pouring your heart out to him.

as soon as it ended and your voice faded away, thoughts were swirling around his head like a tornado: why did you have to do this? and why right now? why today of all days? why was the universe conspiring against him on arguably the biggest day of his career?

part of him wanted to ditch his party, run over to your house, and be with you. pretend that nothing happened and that you guys were good. he wanted to feel your touch like he did before because if anything you said in your three minute voicemail was true, he felt the exact same times a hundred.

but another part of him was still angry. angry at you for how you treated him. angry at you for not being there for him. angry at you for not fighting for him. and especially angry at you for trying to make his big day about you. 

he should have deleted your voicemail. he should have blocked your number.

but he just couldn’t let you go.

i got your voicemail. thank you for listening to my album. i think we should talk soon. let me know when you’re free and we can get coffee.

taglist: @boba-beom @dearlyjun @atinyniki @isabellah29 @royallyjjk @amanda4004

fill out this form to join my taglist!

[queenhunter102]

HOUSE OF THE DRAGON (Part 2)

(Part 1) (PART 3)

Why are they not red? Hmm? Why do your hands not bleed, if My Lady asks you to clean something do so until you bleed” he spits, you close your eyes a drop of his spit hits your face, making you grimace from the feeling. “Yes Master Staell, I will do it right away Master Staell,” you said, trying to appease the man he grunted at you, as he dropped your hands “No I will get one of our civil girls to do it, no need to stain our halls with your filth,” he said, as he walked away from you. You nod your head as you lower it, you knew if you looked at him he would strike you with the force of the gods, so you watched from the corner of your eye waiting for him to leave. He growled again as he threw a fork at you, one you narrowly missed, “Why are you still here? Hmm? I gave you an order to leave!” he said, as he picked up another fork throwing it at you as you narrowly escaped. You dashed up the servant’s hallway heading to Prince Aemond’s room, it wasn’t often you were allowed to clean rooms often having to clean halls and the kitchen at the highest parts of the night, you relished the days they allowed you to clean the rooms, Prince Aemond’s room being your favourite to clean. He was a rather clean man, or at least the very few times you had seen him roaming the halls late at night, but his room was always a rather different matter he had a desk that was tucked away into a corner stacked with papers and maps, his books strewn across the desk, old ink pots lying across the desk broken Quills, snapped in half from his frustrations, you often like to run your hand over his dried writing, enjoying the way it felt under your touch.

you often tried to keep his desk as clean as you could, taking his ink pots away to be refilled, and stealing the broken Quills and stashing them in your quarters to touch and fiddle with later, you try and pin the maps he has finished with, back on their walls to be proudly displayed, you delighted when you found that his desk had divots from where his arms had rested.

You often rearranged his books into better order, but you still struggled to read with the common tongue let alone attempt to read in High Valyrian, so you tried your best to place the same books with the same author, or so you assumed, most of the words either looking the same or looking like they had the same scribbles, the only thing you noted that was the same was the initials on the inside, A.Targayen you smiled wondering if anything of Aemond’s had ever been given to Aegon accident. you walked across the room to his wardrobe always being careful not to take anything or move anything from here, knowing Aemond’s clothes were his pride and joy, you knew he was always very clean and very meticulously put together, you held out one of his sleeves as you eyed it, it noting that it should likely go to the tailors soon, the cuffs looked as though they might fray soon. you would sit and polish every shoe, every buckle, every eye patch, everything you could you did, you often stitched buttons back onto his tunics and garments when you had your sewing items with you, glad that your mother had at least had the chance to teach you something useful. You sigh as you see one of the buttons on his tunics is loose, you lightly touch it, hating that you couldn’t fix it for him, and you close the door to his wardrobe before walking into his bathing chamber avoiding the rather large elephant in the room, as you walked into the bathing chamber you found it a mess, his lotions and herbs thrown everywhere, like he was trying to find something specific, you inhaled deep to find that smell that just seemed to be his smell, It was of old books, fresh linen, drying ink as well as flowers, you closed your eyes enjoying the smell, it wasn’t often that you were allowed to nearly bath in that smell. it was like an addiction to you, letting out a slow breath, you picked up his lotions and his dried herbs, placing them back onto their shelves, tightening the lids on them as you went, you scrubbed the bath until your finger bled, once done you reached for his drying cloth finding it hard…You scrunched your face up, your hand recoiling from the texture, you touched it again, picking it up slowly you found that the drying cloth was stiff, and had an odd hard feeling to it in certain places, you shrugged your shoulders as you picked it up, bring it with you into the bed chamber again, you dumped his dirty clothes to the floor as you turned to his bed. You hated it, it felt like that was his private area, you felt like you were invading the most private parts of him, sometimes it felt like you were doing something dirty as you would peel back the covers to find something as dirty as his sleepwear or a women’s corset, you sighed as you approached the bed, noting that there was a lump in the bed, you prayed you weren’t about to uncover an unsuspecting prince who was trying to take a mid-day sleep, but when you pulled the covers back you found a stray pillow was just in the centre of the bed. You blew out a breath as you fixed the pillow moving it back to its rightful spot, striping the bed of its covers and blankets, as well as putting on fresh coverings for the cover and pillows, you chewed on your bottom lip as you thought wondering would he like it if I put decorative pillows on his bed? You continued to chew on that thought as you made his bed and picked up his dirty clothes giving the room a once last glance over and when you were finally happy with what you had done you walked out of his bed chamber heading towards the wash rooms. Unbeknownst to you, a guest was watching from the walls of his bed chambers as you took great care of his things taking the time and patience to carefully polish, wipe, and meticulously return to their rightful place, watching as you carefully made his bed, carefully eyed his room when you believed it was clean and perfect.

Taglist: @prettykinkysoul,

[fancyfeathers]

The Tsaritsa’s darling (Normalized Yandere AU)

part two to this post about the yandere harbingers and their darlings (link)

(A/N- the main character in this mini fic is not a reader character like the other darlings in this series, but he will appear as a side character in other stories in this series)

Hidden away in the forests of Teyvat, hidden away from any particular nation. The woods were beautiful, lovely, green leaves and a rainbow of flowers, but as you got deeper the woods changed as it with the season, fading into a winter wonderland, snow, ice, and winter critters of all sorts. There in the woods is a mansion, and sitting in an the, run down mansion were two figures, sitting at a table, a chess set in between them that they played. The man was beautiful, long, silver, braided hair, he was dressed in finery of silvers, blacks, whites and blues that paired well with his light blue eyes. He was an extremely beautiful figure, but extremely week, a cane leaned against the table and he kept a handkerchief in hand because every so often he was sent into a coughing fit. This sickness didn’t worry the woman he was playing with though, except the occasional blood that came with it.

“My Lord, shouldn’t you be getting your rest? It is getting late after all.” The woman asked, moving her knight on the board. She folder her hands and waited for his response both in the game and in words. The man chuckled and moved one of his bishops.

“I should, I really should, but with recent abduction of the Actress I do not think my body will let me no matter how much it may need to.” The man stood, grabbing his cane as he did so. He had a heavy limo in his right leg, and his breathing was incredibly labored, so ill despite looking so young. He stood at the frosted over window, looking out at it before glancing back at the woman with a smile. “Also please, there is no need for titles when it’s just us, call me Andrei.”

“Very well, Andrei.” The woman replied, her gaze following the man.

“Now any updates from my favorite Historian?” Andrei question, his gaze going back onto the snowy landscape behind the glassy surface. The woman chuckled at the nickname before standing up as well, her heels clicking against the wooden floor as she came to stand beside the man. Unlike her sickly friend her eyes remained fixed on him, not on the snow outside.

“My other contact in Fontaine has left as well, she had to run in order to avoid the Knave.” She answered, looking at Andrei’s face for any reaction but none came. “Along with that out contacts from Mondstadt are with her, along with two more potential contacts from Snezhnaya.”

“Any ties to the Fatui?”

“Yes, I believe the both of them were being pursued by harbingers, nine and eleven respectively.” The woman pressed her lips thinly together in thought, slightly bothered that she was unable to get a read on the white haired man. “They both have visions, Cryo and Anemo.”

“You needn’t worry so much. If they have already been accepted by the others, they are accepted by me.” A smile came across the woman’s face at Andrei’s words. “But if I may ask where are they now?”

“They are making their way to Sumeru, presumably to meet with the Medic and Hunter...” The woman pauses on her words, chewing on her bottom lip for a moment. “Andrei, if I may give my observation, we’re unknowingly being trapped in a corner. They don’t know about our alliance but they are trapped us like a changed animal, if they find out we’ll loose, you’ll loose… I… I don’t want to go back to how things were.”

“They say cornered animals fight the fiercest, so let’s show them how we play.” Andrei finally smiled, which only gave the woman a look of shock.

“Andrei…”

“Let them know that they haven’t won yet.” Andrei walks over back to his chair and sits down, reaching over to pick up one of his chest pieces. “What Gnoses do they have yet to obtain?”

“Just that of the Pryo Archon, but I believe Capitano has thrown his hat into the arena of Natlan.” The woman watched Andrei fiddle with the chess piece in his hand before he suddenly slammed it down on the board, startling the Historian.”

”Then let us get it before them.” These words shocked his friend, and while she stumbled, looking for the right words to say, but he just smiles at her. “And perhaps we can finally beat them in this game.”

“My Lord-”

“Andrei.” He corrected. There was a muttered apology as Andrei’s eyes scanned the chess board. “After all I would like my gnosis back.”

—————————

The last piece in this game, the former Cryo Archon, who lost his throne in the Archon War. His power was stripped from his as he crushed under the heel of other gods, he was too gentle for his own good. That’s when the Tsaritsa gave him false kindness, wanting him nothing more to keep him as a plaything. He lived as her toy for many a century while he watched the Fatui be formed, the rest of Teyvat thinking he was dead while he was only being hidden within the cold halls of the Zapolyarny Palace.

When he lost all hope that’s when he met the innocent eyes of the Historian, Pierro’s darling. The two became the others only friend, then the Actress, Colombina’s darling, came along and their trapped duo became a trio. But in their captivity he had to watch the innocence of the Historian’s eyes leave her after being exposed to the secrets that the Fatui keeps locked away, his friend was breaking and he couldn’t handle it. So with an idea of a plan he used the last of his power from his archon days he was able to freeze the palace, temporarily at least. The three of them escaped, not daring to look back, the Actress went back to Fontaine but the former archon was severely weakened by the use of his power and was sent into a sickly state. So while their friend went off to see Teyvat again the Historian found a place to stay hidden, looking after the weak god and becoming his eyes and ears to Teyvat. Over time they found others like them and the knew if they didn’t do something these others would share the same fate, the soldier, the medic, the mother, the knight, the ballerina, and so on. So they began this secret game against the Fatui, stopping their plans, by cutting the threads one by one.

[acourtofwhatthefuck]

Fireleaf (Part Nineteen)

Hello! Hope you're all well and having a good week. @greeneyedivy and I have been super excited about this chapter since...well, since the beginning of Fireleaf really. We're so excited to finally be posting it!

We hope you enjoy. Thank you so much for all the lovely support!

Warnings: Smut. 😏🌶️

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For the following three weeks, keeping busy was Lucien’s sanity.

While Tamlin had his people covertly keeping an eye on the Autumn Court, on Beron’s movements, Lucien was researching until his eyes felt like they were bleeding. Reading the old laws of Prythian.

Three weeks. Three weeks had passed without him seeing Y/N. Almost three. He’d ticked every day off with an ache in his heart. It hurt more ferociously than anything he’d ever felt before, but he would face it, endure it; make sure it was worth it in the end.

That didn’t stop him thinking constantly about her, though. Which he was doing, right now, whilst he was supposed to be studying the book in front of him.

He rubbed at the ache that was building between his eyes and loosely tied his hair back. It had been early morning when he’d carried the pile of books into Tamlin’s office and began reading. Hours had passed since — it must have been noon, by now, at the very least. He would grab a quick lunch and get right back to his reading.

It was as he stood and opened the door that voices floated up to him. He frowned to himself — beyond the Spring Court staff and sentries he saw coming and going, it was relatively quiet here. Any High Lord business tended to take Tamlin into the villages rather than him receiving an audience here.

But it was a lilting male voice that was lingering with Tamlin’s, and — Lucien realised, as he descended the staircase — a familiar one at that. He stopped in the doorway of the dining room, taking in the sight of Tamlin engaging in conversation with Eris.

Eris looked up upon Lucien’s arrival, his hand naturally rested on the hilt of his sword. He looked…different, somehow. Older. Stronger.

“Brother.” He dipped his head at Lucien. “You look positively awful.”

Lucien pursed his lips, anxiety roiling in his gut. What would bring his brother here, besides bad news? He studied him, looking for some indication that something had happened.

“What are you doing here, Eris?” He cocked an eyebrow.

“I was waiting for your return so I could tell you what I discovered.” The oldest Vanserra said. “But it would seem you’ve taken to wallowing.”

Lucien supposed he couldn’t blame him for thinking that. He looked a mess, with his crumpled, unbuttoned white shirt and loose trousers. But that was because his self-care had taken a backseat whilst he’d thrown himself, morning and night, into whatever research and work he could find to…to fix this. Of course he didn’t look his best.

“So I’ve come, instead, to give you a brotherly pep talk.” Eris finished.

“Eris—”

“Hear me loud and clear, Lucien.” Eris stepped forward — and rather comically tightened his grip on his sword. “I know everything. Dion told me. And running away is not the answer. Quit your damn wallowing and get back home.”

“You don’t understand—”

“No, I don’t think you understand. You are the only person who can fight for the female that you love. What good is it going to do, holing yourself up in another court? She needs you. And you need her—”

“Eris, will you shut up for five fucking seconds?”

Eris faltered, cocking an eyebrow. From across the table, Tamlin watched. “So he does still have some fight in him.”

Lucien rolled his eyes. “That’s why I came here, you ass. Not to wallow. To figure out how to fix all of this. Tamlin and I have been working together.”

Eris went still, studying his brother. Within seconds, his stance relaxed. “…Oh. Right.” He cleared his throat. “Well…good.”

Across the table, Tamlin seemed to be stifling a laugh. Eris shot him a look, lowering himself into a chair.

Lucien, though, remained standing, his hands nervously clenching at his sides. “You said you discovered something?”

Eris nodded. “I did. Well — two somethings, actually.”

Tamlin rose from his chair, hastily grabbing for a decanter of whiskey and three glasses. He placed them on the table, watching as Eris dug into the inside of his jacket and produced a small pile of envelopes.

“First of all,” he said, chucking them onto the table, “Y/N’s friend Linden? He’s been writing to her since she first came to the estate. Father has been intercepting those letters and hiding them from her. Allowing her to think he hasn’t bothered to be in contact. These are the copies I made.”

Lucien frowned, reaching out and grabbing the envelopes. “For what reason? Besides being a cruel bastard.”

“Because — as you’ll discover from reading them — Linden had information that he wanted to tell Y/N that could have compromised father.”

Tamlin kept an eye on Lucien as he repeated, “information?”

Eris nodded. “The entire thing…the engagement between Dion and Y/N…was all cleverly calculated. Even though Dion did nominate Y/N’s name himself, he would have found himself engaged to her anyway — because it was all part of a deal between Y/N’s father and ours.”

Lucien was hardly listening, his nose buried in the letters. His stomach churned with every word he drank in, every bit of information that took root in his brain. Letter after letter, he read and chucked onto the table, his expression hardening, hands shaking.

“What would Beron be getting out of a deal with Y/N’s father?” Tamlin asked.

And it was Lucien who answered. Lucien, whose voice was so cuttingly cold as he bit out, “Faebane.”

Eris nodded in confirmation. “Y/N’s family’s business had been going under for a while because her father gambled away pretty much everything they had. His reputation — their family’s reputation — was at risk of being destroyed as thoroughly as their fortune. And so to bring some money back in, Y/N’s father began dealing in prohibited chemicals and substances such as Faebane. Our father got wind of it, and instead of putting a stop to it, he saw a way to use it to his advantage. Together, they cooked up an agreement — Y/N’s father would provide ours with any of these substances that he desired, free of charge, so long as their reputation was kept intact. Part of that deal was getting Y/N away from their family estate, because her father knew she would intervene if she heard of what he was doing. Which was how they agreed on her being sent to our estate to marry Dion.”

“And Linden somehow found out.” Lucien murmured, staring into space. “Which was probably why he got sent away. Going by these letters, he wanted to meet with Y/N and warn her.”

“But father put a stop to that.”

Lucien swallowed. “Does Y/N…have you told her? About her father?”

Eris shook his head. “Not yet. I wanted to track Linden down first. Speak to him and find out everything he knows. This…this is going to be hard for her.”

Yes, it was. Lucien’s eyes shuttered, his throat bobbing as he tried to swallow. He swiped out, pouring a measure of whiskey and knocking it back. Both Tamlin and Eris watched him.

“How is she?” He rasped, as desperate for the answer as he was scared of it.

A look of concern passed Eris’s face. He gave a half-hearted shrug. “About as well as can be expected. She’s drowning in wedding preparations and is all the more miserable for it.”

Of course, it was the answer Lucien expected — and yet it didn’t make it any easier to hear. He slumped into a chair, pinching the bridge of his nose. He despised the thought of her being there…thinking he’d given up—

“It won’t be long, Lucien,” Tamlin said quietly. “You’ll be back with her soon. This—this information is good. This can be used against Beron.”

“I know. I know.” Lucien stared down. “I just…I miss her.”

“And she misses you.” Eris supplied. “As does mother. She keeps asking after you — asking what the hell is going on and when the hell you’ll be back.”

Fuck. Lucien hadn’t even considered what his dear, sweet mother must be thinking or feeling. What she must have made of Lucien disappearing without a single goodbye. He loved her dearly, hated keep things from her—

“Tell her.” He blurted, not sure he really meant to. “Tell her everything.”

His brother studied him. “You’re sure?”

“The more people we have on our side, the better.” He shrugged. “She may not be able to do much, but…we have a greater chance of protecting her from whatever’s coming if she knows everything that’s going on.”

Eris seemed to consider it for a moment, before he nodded resolutely. They loved their mother dearly — would spare her from being caught in the crossfire as well as they reasonably could.

“Then I shall.” Eris stood from his chair, tucking it in. He reached out, knocking back his measure of whiskey before brushing himself down. “I’ll return home and speak to mother. And then I’m going to find Linden. You…you shouldn’t wait to see Y/N, Lucien. She needs you.”

He’d barely taken a step forward before Lucien was gripping onto his arm. “Eris.” He stared up at him. “When you find Linden…bring him to the old orchard. Father won’t look for us there. And send for me immediately. I’ll find a way to see Y/N. And…thank you. For everything.”

A moment passed of the two brothers just staring at each other — a moment of solidarity and understanding.

And then Eris was dipping his chin and squeezing his brother’s hand.

And in a flash, he was gone.

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Quiet, uneventful days had become a rare commodity.

The subject of your wedding was a dull, monotonous entity that seemed to follow you around everywhere. Day in and day out was filled with some sort of preparation, some situation that you had to meet with a false smile. You were sick of being poked and prodded and pulled and pushed like a damn doll — and all when you just wanted to curl up and cry, too. When heartache was a splintering thing inside your chest that never lessened.

But today, at least, there was nothing in the calendar. Perhaps you’d be able to have a cry in peace.

You’d woken to a heavy silence, and it hadn’t taken you long to learn — through asking servants — that most people were gone from the estate for the time being. Beron and Barric away on business, Eris having left on his own. Dion had a particular set of errands to run, apparently, as an upcoming groom. Where Jareth and Rian were, you didn’t know nor care.

You were just relieved to drop the false smile for a bit. You curled yourself up in an armchair with a book that you knew you wouldn’t able to concentrate on.

You weren’t sure how long you sat there like that, watching shafts of sunlight cast across the lawn, when the door opened behind you. You glanced over your shoulder, taking in the brilliant, vibrant hair and skin like finest porcelain. Lady Autumn’s concerned eyes roved over you.

And just like that, you were slamming that smile back onto your lips, forcing the corners to lift up no matter how much they protested.

“I didn’t realise you hadn’t left with the High Lord.” You said.

She inclined her head. “He allowed me to stay — with the wedding being so near and details needing to be fine tuned. I thought you and I might spend the day together.”

You fought to keep your reluctance from showing from your face. It wasn’t that you didn’t like her, or even enjoy her company – on the contrary, you’d found her to be a pleasant companion over the past two weeks, someone who came alive when she wasn’t being watched and analysed. She was kind-hearted and soft…and a constant reminder of the future you were unable to escape.

She read the hesitation on your face, stepping further into the room. “I know life has been pretty constant recently, but…humour me. There’s…there’s somewhere I’d like to take you.”

Not, exactly, what you’d been expecting. Lady Autumn rarely said or did what was beyond expected of her. It was so out of the blue that it had a slither of intrigue snaking its way through the blur of negative emotions that so heavily weighed you down.

Perhaps…perhaps it was better for you to go with her. To do something, anything, to occupy yourself. Surely it had to be better than sitting and ruminating on what you couldn’t have.

You set your untouched book aside, rising from the chair. “Of course I’ll spend the day with you.”

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With a hamper packed with food, the two of you each took to a horse and rode away from the estate. It was like…like breathing for the first time in a long time.

You rode in companionable silence for a while, following in her direction. Only when the peaceful autumn landscapes began to shift and change did your curiosity pique. You knew Beron wasn’t due back to the estate for at least a couple of days, but…to travel so far away without his knowledge–

“Where are you taking me?” You asked, more worried about the consequences Lady Autumn would face than yourself. “Lady–”

“Please—call me Catrin. And you’ll see.”

Catrin. Was that the first time you’d ever heard her name? You couldn’t recall anyone ever having spoken it. The High Lord had pretty much given her a title and stripped her of any other identity.

You couldn’t bear the thought of a similar fate. No matter how worlds apart Dion was from his father in personality, in values…just knowing that others would simply see you as his wife, his lady…a lump rose in your throat. You tried to shake the thought away and focus on the journey ahead.

You’d lost track of how long you’d been riding by the time you came to the opening of a sprawling forest. The trees seemed to naturally part as though they’d been expecting you.

Catrin glanced over her shoulder at you. “We’ll dismount and continue on foot from here.”

With a nod, you followed her lead. You couldn’t help subtly studying her as you climbed down from your horse and rubbed at his neck soothingly. Away from Beron, even her hair seemed more vibrant. A slight pink dusted her cheeks, and her brown eyes seemed to beckon the sunlight towards them. She was beautiful, anyway, but…truly breathtaking, when she wasn’t being stifled.

 Retrieving the food hamper from her horse, she met your gaze and gestured to the forest opening. “This way.”

You hesitated. Beautiful as it was, the whole thing felt…bizarre. You didn’t know what or where this place was. Why she’d taken you here in particular. And lovely as she was, you knew how firmly she lived under Beron’s control; you couldn’t stop paranoid thoughts pelting you of this being some sort of trap. Of Beron having got his sweet, docile wife to lure you here to finally punish you somewhere where nobody could hear you scream–

“You needn’t fear me, Y/N.” Catrin said softly. “There’s something I want to show you. Something very few people know about. Especially my husband.”

The bite in her voice was enough to convince you of her honestly, at least. You took a step forward, towards those strange, shimmering trees that seemed to be listening to you. “Where are we?”

“The Otherlands.” Catrin told you; your sparse knowledge of Prythian had certainly never touched on that name. “It sits just outside the Autumn Court, but it’s governed by no one. Whatever takes place here…the High Lord has no jurisdiction over it. Nor does he have any interest in it.”

It was certainly beautiful – and empty. Quiet. A place where nature was allowed to thrive without the intrusions of manmade structures and smoke polluting the air. No wonder the trees looked different. The air smelled different.

“It’s stunning.” You answered earnestly. “But…why have you brought me here?”

“As I said — to show you something.”

Without sparing any more information, she turned on her feet and began to walk. You followed – and then stopped to blink. Your eyes hadn’t been deceiving you; those shimmering trees were truly parting to let you through. With every step forward, a path seemed to reveal itself before your very eyes. Rare, rare magic, like nothing you’d ever seen.

You’d lagged behind enough that you had to jog to catch up. You fell into step with Catrin, your wide eyes focused on every inch of smooth pathway that appeared out of nowhere. Catrin watched you with a smile.

“Magnificent, isn’t it?” She said softly. “I never get tired of it, even after all this time.”

“I…what magic is this? Whose magic is this?”

A faraway look entered her eyes, though she didn’t falter a single step. As if she’d walked the hidden path a thousand times before and knew it by heart.

“The magic of somebody I love very much.” She answered quietly.

You watched her, waiting for more. A strange shadow had crossed her face that was so at odds with the landscape, it was almost frightening. Darkening.

There was no doubt in your mind that she absolutely was not talking about Beron.

“Do you…” You spoke. Swallowed down your words. You weren’t sure what to say. “Is he not alive?”

Catrin’s eyes danced over to you. “He is alive. Which makes it worse, somehow, don’t you think? For them to be there, and for you to still be unable to have them.”

Such true, painful words. They fit your situation so perfectly that you winced.

Catrin stopped, and the path forked before you. You followed her lead as she took a left, the trees parting and forming a perfect clearing. You stood at the edge as you watched her step in. She seemed to be taken somewhere else for a moment. Another time. A happier time.

But then she shook it off. Turned to you. “I brought you here to talk about Lucien.”

You felt stillness prickling over your body, your mind emptying of all thoughts. Nothing but bleating panic existed about you as you stared back at her.

You could see — in her face, you could see that she knew. How or why, you weren’t sure. But her eyes held the truth; your truth. She’d found you out.

You swallowed, still attempting to slam up your perfected facade. “Lady—Catrin…I’m afraid I don’t know why Lucien left—”

“You do.” She cut you off gently. “We both do.”

There was no anger evident on her face or in her voice; although, you couldn’t picture her parading such an emotion. She almost permanently wore that blank, vacant expression that you’d begun to master yourself these last few weeks.

Now, though, there was fire in her eyes.

“Lucien left because he loves you. And you love him.” She said.

Your eyes shuttered. “Listen—”

“Eris told me. Yesterday. Although…I suspected before then. I know what love looks like. I’ve seen how Lucien has come alive since you arrived.”

The words — those damn words — were torture. What good could they do you now? Love couldn’t prevail. It couldn’t solve everything. You could love Lucien for the rest of your existence, but that didn’t mean you could have him. And he could see as much himself; had left because of it.

“I’m marrying Dion.” You whispered, begging your voice not to crack. “I have no choice—”

“Listen to me, Y/N.”

Catrin stepped forward, her soft, gentle arms gently landing on your shoulders. Nothing but sincerity sat in her eyes as she stared at you.

“I brought you here,” she said. “Because I cannot see history repeat itself. I won’t. Not for my children.”

“What—”

“A very long time ago, I fell in love with a wonderful male. A kind male, who is good and noble and gentle. I would happily have spent my life with him, but only a year later, my family married me off to Beron. For their sakes — their social standing. They knew he wasn’t kind, and they knew I wasn’t happy, but that was not important to them. It was all about appearances. Reputation.”

Again, your eyes shuttered. Appearances. Reputation. Just like it was with your family. This alliance between your family and the Vanserras was simply about rebuilding what you’d lost. Your happiness didn’t come into it.

“I relented.” Catrin’s eyes stung with tears. “I was weak and not at all brave. I told myself that I had no choice. That it was my duty to be Beron Vanserra’s wife and bear his children, even though I loved another male so ferociously. So completely. Even though I always have. Those feelings do not go away. I spent twenty years without my love before I saw him again. He rescued me from harm, and it took one look at him to realise that I loved him just as much as I had two decades earlier.”

You wanted to slam your hands over your ears, to hide from her words. It wasn’t helpful to know that your feelings would always linger. It didn’t…it didn’t help.

And yet you did want to hear. You wanted to know how it had ended. How it might end for you.

“What happened?” You croaked.

“We began an affair. On and off for decades. This is where we would meet.” She gestured to the surroundings around you. “If Beron were to ride this way, he would see nothing but plain woodland. This was our place — mine and my love’s. His magic allowed us to be here together. Even if years went by of us not seeing each other, this was where we would come. On the other side of this clearing is a cottage — Dayview Cottage, he called it. It still stands today. And that is all I have left of him. When I was pregnant with Lucien, Beron found out about the affair. It stopped after that. We haven’t been together since.”

Such raw, visceral emotion coated her voice that you had to take a step back, to turn away. Because you knew that was what your own voice sounded like. You knew that you held the same look of utter turmoil and heartbreak in your eyes.

“Y/N,” Catrin whispered, “I don’t tell you this to hurt you. But the second Eris filled me in on what had been going on, I knew I had to speak to you. It got too late for me. I had children to think about — a family. I had duties that went beyond what I, myself, craved. Your only duty is to yourself. Do not make the same mistake I did. Do not give yourself regrets. Have the bravery and strength to fight what is expected of you. You cannot doom yourself, or Lucien or Dion or Willow, to a life of misery, because you’ve been told that you must.”

“It isn’t that simple.” You choked. “Beron—”

“Beron,” she cut in her, her voice uncharacteristically cold, “will be dealt with.”

Such confidence in such a weighty statement. You curled in on yourself, wiping at your eyes. Your entire body trembled.

“My children are the only thing I live for now, Y/N.” Her arm came around you. “And you…I consider you to be the daughter I never had. I see so much of my younger self in you. And I’m telling you what I wish I could tell the younger version of me. I will not see any of you resigned to the same fate that I was unable to escape.”

That was it. Your tether snapping, the dam breaking — you buried into your hands, and weeks and weeks of pent-up emotions came storming out in a pained, keening cry.

Catrin’s arms snaked around you, and you felt yourself slump against her, bringing you both to the forest floor. Somehow you ended up in her lap, her arms rocking you like a child while you sobbed and sobbed. For the male you loved more than you ever could have imagined. For the future you so wished you could have with him.

“It’s such a beautiful thing, Y/N, to love.” Catrin whispered, pressing a kiss atop of your head. “Grab it with both hands and don’t let go.”

She said nothing more as she held you. Nothing more as you cried until your throat was scratchy, your eyes raw.

But her words stuck with you, right where they’d slammed into your heart.

Grab it with both hands and don’t let go.

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The two of you shared the hamper of food, words laying heavy around you as she told you more of her younger self. Who she was before she became a Vanserra. The woods continued to shimmer and dance in your presence, and right before you left to find your horses, she led you to the other side of the clearing and showed you — Dayview Cottage.

It was beautiful, in a melancholy sort of way. The magic that belonged to the unnamed male she loved — the same magic that enchanted the trees and the forest floor — kept it nicely preserved and untouched, no matter how many years it watched pass by. But its emptiness was bleak and lifeless, and it left a similar look in Catrin’s eyes.

Just as the first signs of evening began to show, Catrin ushered you onto your horse with a simple “it’s gotten late. We need to leave.”

Your head ached as the two of you rode back, and your full, swimming mind made it feel like mere minutes before you began to recognise villages and landscapes. You knew your surroundings enough to recognise exactly where you were — a couple of miles from the hamlet that had been destroyed by the fire.

Catrin glanced at you somewhat knowingly, and it was the first time she spoke since you’d set off as she said, “There’s one more place you need to go. But I can’t come with you.”

You frowned back at her, the action in itself self causing a twinge of discomfort to ripple behind your eyes. “What?”

“I’m heading home. But there’s a gamekeeper’s cottage around here, I believe. One you might be familiar with. Somebody is waiting for you there.”

You stared at her, knowing exactly what she was inferring without saying the words. The gamekeeper’s cottage – where you and Lucien had headed after the hamlet fire. Where you’d first ever given over to passion and found release in each other’s bodies. It seemed so long ago now.

And he…he was waiting for you there? It had to be him…the significance of the place. 

Anxiety and anticipation and excitement hit you all at once. So, so desperately you wanted to see him; to see how he was doing after a few weeks in the Spring Court. To see…to see whether he missed you as much as you missed him.

But could it truly be that easy? Catrin’s words, her story, had certainly left a lasting effect on you, got you thinking. But thoughts of Beron, of Willow, of danger…they still plagued you. Still had you slamming that wall up and not allowing yourself to consider that you might have a different outcome than the one you’d been forcing yourself to accept.

“Why?” You rasped quietly. “Why is he there?”

Catrin studied you. “Because he needs you as much as you need him. This is hard for him, also. Don’t think for a second that fleeing to the Spring Court was easy for him, Y/N. He’d have come back far sooner if he had it his way. But he asked me to help you see each other; at least spare him a conversation.”

Of course you would. She didn’t need to convince you. Even if your body was taut as a bowstring and fear was in your eyes…even if you refused and began your journey home…you knew damn well that you would have turned back and ran straight to that gamekeeper’s cottage.

You wouldn’t leave him there alone, wondering if you were ever coming.

Catrin knew it, too.

“Go to him, Y/N.” She said, reaching out to press a gentle hand to your cheek. “Go to him, and let him speak.”

You’d thought you were all cried out, and yet as you nodded, tears welled in your eyes. There was nothing but a field that lay between you and that gamekeeper’s cottage. Nothing but a stretch of grass that lay between you and the male you loved. Missed. Wanted.

Catrin, herself, looked like she was on the verge of shedding a few tears. She plastered on a beautiful smile and straightened in the saddle. “Go,” she said. “And give my boy my love.”

Before you could thank her, she was digging her heels into her horse’s sides and taking off with a soft command. You watched as she rode into the distance, her red hair like a burning flame on the landscape.

And then it was just you and that stretch of field. The cottage that stood on the other side of it. The other half of your heart that waited within it.

You closed your eyes, drawing in a deep breath. Tried to calm your thudding heart. With chills spreading across your skin that had nothing to do with the fresh evening air, you guided your horse across the field.

Every travelled inch that brought you closer had your ears ringing, head spinning. And when you saw the cottage, slightly hidden amongst the trees, it was an effort to keep yourself atop of your horse.

You slowed to a stop, taking a moment to just…breathe. Every part of you shook as you dismounted and secured your horse to a tree, leaving it to graze the forest floor. There was no sound inside the cottage. No light that peeked out.

This cottage — this cottage that had been a harbinger of change; a painful one at the time. One that had set the wheels in motion for what was to come. Yours and Lucien’s own version of Dayview Cottage, you supposed.

You weren’t sure what you were supposed to do. Knock? Open the door and stride right in? Your hands twisted around each other, your mind ticking away at a pace you couldn’t keep up with—

But the door opened without any intervention from you. And there Lucien stood, the light of the cottage fire seeming to offset a glow around him as his eyes met yours, and he swallowed.

He was…glorious. Breathtaking. You didn’t have any words, try as you might to muster some.

He swallowed again before his lips parted, his eyes scanning your face.

“…Hi…” was all he said. But he could have spoken any damn word in the common tongue. It wouldn’t have mattered.

It was his deep, lilting voice that destroyed your resolve. Before you knew what you were doing, your body was colliding with his, your arms snaking around his waist. A cry tore from your throat.

He wrapped himself around you immediately. And pulled you into the cottage.

✧: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

You didn’t know how long the two of you stood in the entryway, silently holding each other. Long enough to shed more tears and soak the front of Lucien’s shirt.

But once your cries had drifted into just the occasional snivel, he pulled back to stare at you. His hands brushed the wet strands of hair that stuck to your cheek.

“You’re okay?” He murmured, and his voice threatened to end you all over again.

You could only nod, your voice not quite strong enough, yet, not to break.

He’d placed a kiss against your forehead before pulling away, murmuring about preparing you both a warm drink. Which left you to drift around the space in silence, rebuilding your composure, your strength. You kept a little bit of a wall in place, not knowing what the hell to expect. Lucien’s pottering around the kitchen was a soothing background noise as you studied the random assortment of things around you.

And then, so naturally at the same time — as if your bodies mirrored one another’s — you were turning to each other. Lucien studied you, two mugs in his hands.

“You look well.” You croaked, your eyes drinking him in. 

His lips twitched, and he placed the mugs down on the small dining table. “You don’t need to lie. I look like a mess.”

A soft laugh left your throat. You glanced down, rubbing your arms, giving your hands something — anything — to do. “As do I.”

Silence filled the space between you. And then slow, thudding footsteps approached. “You could never look like a mess.”

So, so not true. You were aware of your sallow skin, the dark smudges beneath your eyes. That you’d lost a little weight. And yet you also knew that Lucien spoke with such sincerity. He meant it, even if you didn’t believe it yourself.

Your eyes remained on the scuffs of your boots as he continued to approach. He stopped a hair's-breadth away, close enough for his scent to smother you. Your eyes shuttered as you breathed it in greedily.

“Y/N.” He whispered, his voice skittering over your skin. “Look at me.”

You weren’t sure you could. Your hands gripped your arms hard, the nails digging into your skin. It took you a moment to steel yourself enough to reopen your eyes and lift them to Lucien’s face. Nothing — nothing — could have prepared you for the emotion that lay there.

Love. Pure love, and adoration. Heartache. Despair. Somehow, you read it all. Somehow, you knew you looked the same.

The volume of the emotions threatened to bowl you over. You took a step back, clearing your throat. “Why—why did you want to meet?”

Lucien stared at you, pursing his lips. Because to question why he would want to see you was so ludicrous to him. But he followed your lead, straightening himself up a little.

“To talk to you.” He said. “To ask you — beg, if I have to — not to marry Dion.”

You swallowed. “Lucien—”

“Please just hear me out.”

You stared at him, every self-preserving instinct screaming at you to push past him and run the hell out of there. Because Catrin’s story, her words — hard-hitting as they were — didn’t change that it wasn’t as simple as just not marrying Dion. They didn’t change that there was danger involved. Real danger. Lives at risk.

But Lucien’s eyes were pleading. And you relented, relaxing your stance enough to show him that you were open, at least, to hearing what he had to say.

A moment passed of nothing. You wondered if he might not speak at all. But as you met his eyes in question, you found tears there. Found that he was struggling to speak around his emotion.

“Lucien…” you sighed softly. You reached for him, your hand lingering in the air. Would it make it worse to touch him?

His eyes shuttered, tears spilling down his cheeks. And then he was stepping towards you, cupping your face in his broad, warm hands. Tilting it up to look at him.

“Listen to me. Please.” His voice shook. So did his hands. “I am in love with you. So…so in love. I didn’t know it was possible to love anyone or anything this much. I didn’t know I was capable.”

You blinked away your own tears. “You said you were done fighting for me. I don’t blame you for that.”

“I said that to make it easier to turn around and walk out. But I went to the Spring Court to ask for Tamlin’s help. To find a way for this to work — for us to be together.”

Hope threatened to bloom inside you. You shoved it back down; couldn’t let it take root. Not for it just to be yanked out again.

“It isn’t that easy.” You whispered.

“Of course it isn’t.” His rough, calloused thumbs stroked your cheeks. “It’s love. But I will never stop fighting for you. Never.”

“Lucien—”

“Please, Y/N.” He stared down at you. “I need you to trust me.”

You placed your hands over his, brushing your thumbs over his knuckles. “I do trust you. With my entire soul.”

“Then please, my fireling, hear me when I say that there’s a way out of this, I just— I need you to choose me.” His eyes held something so familiar and yet so unknown to you — a glint of gold in a sea of russet. “I’m already yours. So claim me.”

You broke.

There was no staying strong beneath the weight of those words. Those emotions. You couldn’t.

You reached up, taking a strand of his hair in your palm.

His breath stalled.

You parted the strands of hair, keeping your eyes fixed on the pattern, as you began to twine them together. To braid them.

“What’re you doing?” He whispered, as if afraid that you’d stop if he spoke too loudly.

“Giving you a braid.” You answered and fastened the braid.

His throat bobbed as he swallowed — hard.

“There. You’re mine now.” Your eyes met his russet ones. “I’m in love with—”

Your words cut off as you felt it.

A resounding, earth-shattering snap, deep in your heart, in your soul.

It was like the sun breaking through clouds. Like warmth encasing you. It spread over your body, over Lucien’s, like golden rays of sunlight combining you as one. Twining your souls together. And as if those rays could speak, could whisper to you, you heard it. One word. One word that changed everything.

Mate.

You blinked up at him, so many words in your mind, your throat, on your tongue. So many things you wanted to say, and yet none would come to the surface. The world was shifting, altering your body to fit like a perfect puzzle piece with his. Your mate.

“You knew.”

“Y/N—”

A cry tumbled from your lips, and you were once more throwing yourself at Lucien, wrapping your arms around him. But it was different this time.

It was…it was you giving up the fight. It was you refusing to fight your feelings any longer. No matter what it may mean. No matter what it might bring to your doorstep. You couldn’t fight off your love any longer.

Lucien’s arms came around you, pressing you so close against him that it lifted your feet slightly from the floor. He held you tightly, one hand cradling the back of your head. “Y/N—”

“I love you.” You choked, cutting him off. “I fucking love you, Lucien.”

He went so, so still. You’d only ever said it once, sobbing into his chest. He didn’t even know if you were aware of it. But this — you said the words with such utter conviction he knew his mind couldn’t have conjured up the emotion in your voice.

And then he pulled back just enough to meet your gaze. There was fire in his own.

“Say it again.” He said roughly. “Please.”

“I love you.”

You surged up on the tips of your toes, capturing Lucien in a hard, bruising kiss.

He seemed to just blink for a moment, as though he couldn’t quite keep up. And then he was folding, breathing a cry against your lips, like they’d brought him home.

Mate. Of course he was your mate. You should have damn well known. You’d never been able to stay away from him, never been able to fight the intrigue. Even when he’d been rude and standoffish and arrogant, you’d wanted more, more, more. You’d wanted Lucien Vanserra entirely.

You wanted — needed — him now.

Your kiss was hard, desperate. It was with the force of your feelings, your bond, that you urged him backwards, back and back until you were at the bed. His legs hit the edge of the mattress, and he toppled down, dragging you with him.

You tore your lips from his. Stared down at him.

“I love you.” You said.

He pushed up and kissed you again.

Both your hands and his began fighting to desperately remove clothes. They were ripped from you, from him, tossed across the room. You kissed every inch of bare skin that was revealed; Lucien’s golden, muscled chest, his stomach, his arms, his hips—

But he wanted those lips of yours on his. He pulled you up. Stared into your eyes for a moment. And then he was kissing you again.

You didn’t know at which point you both ended up completely naked, your skin pressing against his, but the feeling of it alone could have brought you to release. It felt so right. So complete.

There was no fooling around. There would be time for that — a whole future’s worth. But you needed him inside you. He needed to be inside you.

He made to flip you over, but you were pressing his chest down, pushing him into the bed. He stared up at you, watching intently, hungrily, as you lifted your hips.

Your hand reached down, wrapping around his firm, hard cock. A grunt left him as you pumped him once, twice, and then lined him up with your entrance.

“Wait.” He breathed, and you paused. He sat up, bringing his body closer to yours, your faces inches apart as he said, “I love you too.”

The words were pleasure in their own right. You moaned. Captured his mouth with yours. And then you were slowly, gently, sinking down onto his length.

The two of you gasped against each other’s mouths. Lucien’s arms came round to fasten around your waist, and he held you to him, his hand landing on your hip and beginning to rock you gently.

He filled you so perfectly. You weren’t sure there was a more complete feeling than your bodies being as flawlessly aligned as your souls.

Every movement and moment was slow, unhurried. You couldn’t possibly get any closer as he kissed you and gently rocked you on his cock. You wouldn’t have it any other way.

“Gods,” he breathed, his hands moving up your back, over your shoulders, down your arms. “Gods, I missed you. My mate. My fireling.”

That fucking nickname would destroy you. You moaned against his mouth, rolling your hips faster. His brow furrowed in pure, unbridled pleasure as he pulled his face back and glanced down at your joined bodies.

“Look at us.” He groaned, his hand guiding your face down, thumb slipping between your lips. “Look how perfectly we fit together. There’s no one else for either of us.”

You were also groaning, whimpering, moaning, your tongue swirling around his thumb as you watched. Watched you fucking him and him fucking you. Your mate.

You weren’t aware of when, exactly, your bodies began to move faster, harder. The two of you were nothing but dancing souls as Lucien flipped you over, not once pulling out of you as he hovered over you.

But his hips ceased their movements. He stilled inside you. Stared down at you, his eyes like pools of endless, churning emotion. His hand brushed your cheek gently.

“Say it again.” He whispered, his breath fanning your face. You knew exactly what he meant.

“Lucien Vanserra, my mate,” you breathed. Your hand trailed down his body to find his. You laced your fingers together. “I am in love with you.”

It could have been a cry or a groan that left his lips. You weren’t entirely sure. His mouth met yours, and you knew your words had set you both on the home stretch. That this was how you would finish — together.

He moved in you and on you, his hands always gentle, his hips not stuttering once. Your soft “I love yous” mingled with one another’s until you didn’t know which was yours and which was his.

And then he was picking up the pace. You moaned against him, and you could feel him throbbing inside you. You wanted to feel his release.

“Come,” you whispered against his lips. “Come for me. Please.”

“Gods.” He choked. His hand reached down between you, the rough pads of his fingers rubbing at your clit, sending a white-hot sting of pleasure splintering through your body. “Come with me.”

His deft fingers left you no other choice. You were light as air as you went tumbling off that edge into oblivion, your pleasure overpowering you entirely. Lucien was falling right along with you, his cock spilling every drop inside you. While his mouth spilled nothing but love into yours.

And then he was pulling back just a little. He trembled against you, his head falling to your chest, his breaths heaving as much as yours. Your fingers threaded within his hair, soothingly massaging the area. It took you a moment to notice the wetness that trickled down between your breasts. You frowned, gently lifting his face.

Tear-filled eyes met yours. Lucien squeezed them shut, the droplets rolling down his face. You reached out, brushing his hair back.

“Hey…” you spoke softly. “Look at me.”

He did. He allowed you to see every emotion on his face. You leaned in, kissing his wet, salty lips.

“Promise me, Y/N.” He whispered, his arms pulling you against him. “Promise me we won’t be apart again. I couldn’t bear it.”

You didn’t know much. You didn't know what would happen the next day, or the day after that — or the year after that.

But you knew that you loved Lucien Vanserra more than you could possibly put into words.

And you knew you damn well meant it, with every piece of your heart and soul, as you stared into his eyes and spoke those words.

“I promise.”

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You’d never felt so serene, you realised, as you did while watching him sleep. 

You knew you could happily lay there forever, your body slanted over his as your fingers absentmindedly played with the braid you’d put there mere hours ago. You didn’t once tear your eyes away from the smooth, unworried sight of his face. He was beautiful.

So, so lucky you were, to have this male. To love him. He’d given you so much already. Hope. Bravery. Strength.

Your mind gently thumbed through your memories of him. Your lips twitched at the thought of that first encounter in the woods — how unnecessarily rude he’d been. How he seemed to dislike you for no reason.

And yet — and yet — look at the two of you now. In love.

The backs of your fingers brushed gently against his cheek. It was then that Lucien stirred, sucking in a slow, deep breath. His eyes fluttered open, immediately finding yours. A smile tugged at his lips.

“Were you watching me sleep?” He blinked at you sleepily, a lazy smirk replacing the soft smile.

The morning rasp in his voice turned something molten in your lower belly.

“Maybe.” You conceded, shrugging as best as you could laying on your side. “I might’ve been playing with your braid, too.”

His eyes snagged on your hand — your fingers — as they still traced the intricate design. “It’s addicting, isn’t it.”

A hum was your only response.

Both of you remained quiet and blissful, basking in each other’s company, until Lucien noticed the corners of your mouth lifting up in a soft smile. His heart went a tad wobbly in his chest.

“What is it?”

“This braid is special.”

He studied you closely, that brilliant smile widening. “Oh?”

“It signifies another thing, now. Not just Linden, but…you, too. Us. It signifies our strength. Our love.”

You heard the slight hitch of breath in his throat. Like your words would start him off crying again.

“I don’t think I’ll ever tire of hearing you say that.” He whispered.

You smiled and leaned in to brush your lips against his.

“These strands of hair,” you murmured, gently tugging, “are our souls. Twined together. Always.”

He kissed you, somehow both hard and soft. And then his forehead was pressing against yours. “Always.”

You smiled. But there was no chance to breathe another word as his arms came around you, and he was flipping you over just as he had earlier.

And as he slid into you, he gasped that same word against your ear, his braid tickling your face.

Always.

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The training barracks, as it turned out, were a bitch to find.

Sweat smattered Eris’s forehead and rolled down his neck as he slowed his mount to a stop. His eyes scanned the huge, imposing building before him, and with the unexpected silence that met him, it was hard to believe the place housed a troop of guards in training.

Though, if he listened harder, the sounds of clashing metal and light-hearted banter danced over to him on the soft breeze. Guards were training somewhere on the green that was big enough to rival the Vanserra Estate.

This was where the letters had indicated. And so this was where he would look.

He dismounted, shoes hitting the dirt path. He patted his horse’s neck as he strode towards the barracks. What was the etiquette here? Did he knock? Just stride in like his father would? He wasn’t sure—

He didn’t have to worry about it, though, as a sound caught his attention. He turned, eyeing the smaller — but still considerable — building to his right. A sturdy wooden building whose door was open just a crack. Curiosity piqued.

Before he could take a step forward, the door swung open wider, and a tall figure emerged. A naked, muscled torso of sweat-slick brown skin glinted in the sunlight. The male was huge, all defined, corded muscles and rugged handsomeness. He wiped his brow with a rag as he studied Eris curiously. And then stilled, recognition dawning.

But it wasn’t the sculpted body Eris’s gaze snagged on, no. His eyes scanned the brilliant, intricate braids that were currently tied in a knot atop of the male's head. The uptilted, dark eyes that were slightly feline. Cheekbones that could cut through stone. 

“Eris Vanserra?” The male spoke — and if his appearance hadn’t been a giveaway enough, the smooth, lilting accent most certainly was. “Can I help you with something?”

 Eris inclined his head, taking a step forward. “I sure hope so.”

Intrigue crossed the male’s eyes, and he stood up straighter.

“Finally we meet.” Eris said with a vague smile. “You must be Linden."

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