#let's wing it fic exchange

[really-fanny-longbottom]

a solstice to remember

summary: nothing could keep azriel from the place where he wants to be the most.

warnings: fluff

pairings: azriel x reader

words: 3.6k

a/n: let's pretend i'm not like a week late with this fic, anyways, happy 2025!

velaris was beautiful during this time of the year.

the city was surrounded by snow, the houses decorated, the frozen river and the streets illuminated by bright lights. 

even the cold couldn't shake the magical atmosphere for the sounds of singing and laughing could be heard from the top of the mountains. 

it truly was a sight to behold.

but it was azriel who had the best view of all.

high in the sky, with a distant flapping of wings from the clouds, azriel flew over the beautiful city of starlight.

the stars kept him company on his return flight, and the wind that blew against his face, his wings, taking all his worries away, welcomed him back. 

there was nothing like home. 

if this were the old days, azriel wouldn't have hesitated in arranging some poor excuse and locked himself in his bedroom in the company of his shadows until morning arrived.

but things were different now—they had been different for quite a while. 

the sight of the house of wind came into his vision, soothing his heart, which azriel had carried heavy all day.  

he wasn't supposed to work today, but with last-minute information coming in through one of his spies, azriel couldn't postpone it.

a conversation with rhys had taken place. the brothers had discussed the best plan of action, both coming to the same conclusion.

and with that, azriel left at dawn with only a promise to try to return today.

a risky promise, knowing what was at stake, but one that he would do and did everything he could to keep. 

with a lighter heart, azriel landed happily on the house's porch. 

still in his spymaster attire, the male made sure to check that everything was in order before opening the double doors. 

the moment the doors opened, he was welcomed with all the scents and sensations he was grateful to experience.

the smell of roast meat, mashed potatoes and vegetables filled the air, the fire in the fireplace warmed the room and the decorations left no room for doubt as to which festivity they were celebrating. 

his family was already in the room, snuggled up in the comfort of the sofas with glasses of wine in hands and with brief conversations and laughter being exchanged. 

azriel closed the doors behind him before stepping forward.

"finally!" rhys exclaimed, a relieved smile appearing in his features. 

at his exclamation, all heads turned in azriel's direction, welcoming him with warm and kind smiles. 

cassian, ever the playful, "took you long enough. we were starting to wonder if we had to send a search party for you."

azriel chuckled, shaking his head while entering the room, "it was work, you know how it is." 

as he approached the sofas, rhys stood up, walking towards him.

"sorry for making you work today, brother," he apologized, a firm hand taking the place on his shoulder.

"nonsense," azriel was quick to reply, "we both know it was the right decision," he finished with a light pat on rhys's back.

rhys smiled, knowing it wasn't easy for his brother to be away from home for long periods of time, especially during the holidays, and now more than ever. 

"still, i'm glad you made it. it wouldn't have been the same without you here."

azriel was grateful for his words, more than he let on.

a raise of rhys's eyebrows allowed azriel to hear his brother's silent question—if everything had gone well and if he was okay.

a simple nod was all that was needed, and a quick hug was exchanged between the brothers, ending the conversation about work. 

"here," cassian said, handing him a glass of wine, "we've already started, so you'll have to hurry up to catch us."

azriel chuckled and shook his head, but before he could take a sip, he found himself looking around the room, his hazel eyes hoping to find a pair of green ones.

feyre smiled fondly at her brother-in-law, understanding the feeling all too well "looking for someone, az?" 

the corners of his lips rose, his heart skipped a beat at the thought of those green eyes. 

"indeed," he replied as his eyes kept traveling through the room "where's my girl?" 

and as if the universe had listened, there you were, entering the living room, helping elain to bring out the desserts.

as soon as he spotted you, azriel's heart melted.

affection and love filled his eyes, and shivers ran through his body.

after all this time, his body, his heart, and his soul, they all still reacted to you just as they did the very first time. 

"there she is," azriel said, his voice laced with adoration while setting his glass of wine on the table.

your eyes moved towards the sound—the first one you heard every morning and the last one you heard every night. 

azriel watched you as your features change from reserved and quiet to one of surprise and relief. 

"az!" you said and hurriedly to place the tray of food on the table before running into his arms— your safe haven. 

his heart skipped another beat as he saw the smile that lit up your face upon seeing him and the male didn't hesitate to hug you tightly, his face going down to your neck, inhaling your familiar scent. 

it was both adorable and terrifying, the effect you had on him, but azriel never complained—and he never would. 

"you made it," you said softly against his chest, where his heart was beating faster than he could fly. 

"of course," azriel replied, his scarred hands caressing your back before tangling in your hair. "i promised you, didn't i?" 

you responded by breaking the hug and cupping his face with your hands, your thumbs caressing his skin before pulling him in for a much needed kiss. 

azriel deepened the kiss, his hands grabbing your hips to pull you closer, however, the kiss was interrupted when your body pressed entirely against his and a small tap was felt by both of you.  

the shadowsinger pulled back slightly, a loving smile already plastered on his features "looks, like we have an intruder." 

you chuckled and rested your forehead against his, closing your eyes for a second to savor the moment, "it looks like we do." 

azriel's smile widened, he kissed your forehead, his lips lingering on your skin for a beat before looking down.

"hi, little one. daddy's here" he said, his large hand coming to rest over your small baby bump, running his fingers through it.

another kick was given, the baby clearly happy for their father's voice. 

chuckles erupted from the both of you, his hand continued his caress as he lowered his head down to plaster a kiss there.

his hazel eyes met yours when he stood to his full height again, his hand remaining on your bump.

"sorry for being late, love" his fingers caress your cheek, before grabbing a few loose strands and tucking them behind your ear "i tried to hurry up as quickly as pos-" 

you silenced him with a kiss on his lips, both of your hands finding his chest while his hand positioned on the back of your neck.

azriel's heart melted even more, you always knew how to disarm him, at any moment.

"the only thing that matters is that you're here, az," you ran your hand over his jaw, the touch soft and affectionate "the only thing."  

"you're right," he said, before lowering his head to your shoulder once more and placing a light kiss there.

he lifted his head moments later, his hazel eyes scanning the room, trying to find his own eyes in a smaller version. 

a smile graced your face, and you couldn't help the small chuckle that escaped you. 

"he's upstairs." 

azriel's eyes meet yours, behind them you could find a hint of nerves "how is he?"

you sighed, your heart clenching for the male in front of you. 

"a little sad for thinking that his daddy won't make it for winter solstice" you told him softly, your hand caressing the length of his back to help him relax in a way only you could. 

azriel sighed, running a hand through his hair in frustration, "i hate to disappoint him." 

at that moment, despite being a little more serious, a laugh escaped you before you could hold it back.

azriel raised an eyebrow in question, his nerves being replaced by confusion. 

"what's so funny?" he asked you, squeezing your hip slightly.

"you're such an idiot" you answered him, another laugh leaving you.

at his reaction, you grabbed his face and looked into those beautiful hazel eyes.

"dorian it's not disappointed with you, azriel. he's sad, yes, but not disappointed. he thinks you're the coolest person of prythian, he wants to be like you when he grows up. you could never disappoint him." you explained, finishing with a light swat to his chest.

your words helped calm his heart. you knew more than anyone how insecure azriel still felt about fatherhood.

even though your son was already five years old, there were still times when he didn't feel worthy of you, or dorian, or the life you had managed to build together. 

it was in moments like these where he needed you the most, your words were more powerful than any other's.

"you're right," he told you, his hand running up and down your hips. "i'll go upstairs, telling him that i'm here." 

when azriel turned to head for the stairs, you were quick to grab his hand and pull him towards you.

"let me go," you told him, "i'll tell him that one of his presents arrived earlier and bring him down." 

a big smile invaded the male's features, excitement running through his veins "yeah, okay."

you kissed his cheek before letting go of his hand and walking upstairs.

azriel kept his eyes on you as you left the room and headed for the stairs.

his eyes studied your purple dress and how the color only helped to highlight your beauty even more, how your hair had gotten longer since you decided to grow it out over the summer, how you always have one hand resting on your bump, and the golden ring with a cobalt blue stone as you placed your other hand on the railing of the stairs. 

he watched you, with a goofy smile, as you disappeared up the stairs and his attention was drawn to cassian when he imitated the sound of a whip. 

laughter reached his ears, and the male let his head fall in defeat, knowing exactly what was in store for him.

"oh, you're whipped, brother," cassian told him as he watched his brother join them on the couch. 

azriel sighed as he took a sip of his wine, shaking his head in response to cassian's comment. he didn't even bother to deny it, knowing clear as a blue sky that he was hopelessly whipped for you.

as he leaned further into the couch, cassian leaned forward, resting his arms on his thighs.

"i have to say, i never thought i'd see the day where azriel," he began, a smirk forming on his lips.

"...the feared shadowsinger, the ruthless spymaster, the most brooding illyrian," he continued, earning chuckles from every member of the family, especially the said male.

azriel rolled his eyes, and crossed his arms over his chest, knowing very well there was no way of stopping his brother, so he embraced the teasing.

"...would be completely whipped by a female." cassian finished, winking a eye in his direction while taking another sip of his wine.

azriel barked a laughter. he didn't correct cassian because there was nothing to correct, everything the general said was true.

he himself had not imagined the day where something like this would be possible—but here they were.

"i never thought about it either," azriel replied, a fond smile on his face, his eyes locked on cassian's.

cassian's face softened at his words, he knew that despite his teasing, the words carried nothing but truth and he couldn't be happier to be that way.

"i bet it feels damn good," the general said, raising his glass in the direction of his brother.

"it does," azriel said on his turn, mimicking cassian's gesture "it really does, it's the best feeling in the world."

they both drink to that, a feeling of gratitude passing through both of them for the life that, after everything they faced, they managed to have. 

azriel couldn't help but smile, his eyes flickering towards the doorway you had just disappeared moments ago. 

•••

as you reached the top of the stairs, the sound of giggles and lively conversation echoed through the hallway. 

as you made your way down the hallway, you smiled softly, your heart warming at the sound of the children enjoying their playtime.

when you reached the door, you stood there for just a moment to hear another set of giggles, a small chuckle escaping you.

you opened the door and were greeted with the sight of your nephews.

"auntie!" nyx exclaimed, dropping his toys to the floor to come wrap his arms around your leg in greeting.

your other nephew, kaden, followed nyx shortly, hugging your other leg.

"hi, auntie!" kaden said, showing you his big toothless smile.

"hi, sweethearts," you caressed their heads, "you're boys having fun?" you asked with a smile mimicking theirs.

"yeah!" the boys answered in union before returning to the floor, definitely to finish their toy's mission.

your eyes stayed on them for a little longer before your attention was drawn to the side and settled on your son.

dorian was seated a little further from his cousins—sadness was evident in his eyes, his head was resting on his hand while the other one was fiddling with the toy. 

the sight made your heart ache, so little he was and yet he already felt such great emotions. 

you approached him, one hand on your baby bump while the other held the skirt of your dress.

you knelt in front of him, your hand caressing his back carefully to not hurt his little wings.  

"hi, baby" you said, your voice gentle and calm.

your voice drew dorian's attention and he lifted his head and you found you "hi, mommy."

your eyes locked on his hazel ones, the same ones you had fall in love with "still sad about daddy leaving for work?"

dorian sighed before nodding his head, his eyes dropping to the floor.

"yes," he murmured, his small voice filled with sadness, "he should be here." 

your fingers found his hair, the one he had inherent from you, and caressed it in a soothing manner.

"i know it's hard, baby," you spoke softly, your tone comforting him, "but daddy's job is important. he didn't want to leave today, you know that right?" 

dorian's eyes flickered to meet yours, a hint of understanding making it's way on his features.

"i know, but i still miss him," dorian whispered, leaning into your touch.

a small smile formed on your lips, and you gave him a mischievous look.

"well, what if i told you that one of your presents arrived earlier?" 

dorian's eyes lit up at your words and he moved closer to you, his small hands reaching out to touch your baby bump. 

"sissy?" he asked you, his sadness being replaced with excitement.

despite not knowing the baby's gender, dorian had been convinced since the very moment you and azriel had broken the news that he was going to be a big brother, that he was having a baby sister.

a small chuckle escaped you at his eagerness "no, my love. it's not your sister, she's still going to take a little longer to get here" you caressed his chubby cheek with your thumb.

his eyes fell at your words but you were quickly to intervene "but," you started, his eyes lifting immediately to find yours "this present is much better." 

his face light up at that, and your smile widened, seeing that your sweet boy was no longer sad.

"do you want to come see it?" 

dorian nodded his head eagerly "yes, mommy" he said and a beat later, he was on his feet.

you laughed and got up too, extended your hand towards him which he didn't hesitate to hold onto.

"let's go then," you said as you led him towards the door.

when you opened the door, you turned around to look at your nephews "you boys come too. it's almost dinner time." 

at the mention of food, kaden got up almost as fast as the speed of light, his toys now forgotten on the floor—he really was cassian's son.

you let the boys go ahead of you, keeping an eye on them so they wouldn't get any ideas about doing something reckless on stairs. 

as dorian walked down the stairs, he suddenly stopped when azriel's voice came from the living room.

your son lifted his head to look at you, "daddy?" 

your response was a smile, and you had to quicken your pace as dorian began to descend the stairs faster, taking you with him.

as you entered the room, his eyes began to search for azriel and you only had a second to register his happiness before he let go of your hand and ran towards your husband. 

"daddy!" he shouted, his voice filled with joy.

azriel's lip formed a smile the moment he son your son running towards him.

the male stood up just in time to catch the little boy who threw himself into his arms, the little boy's arms wrapping tightly around his neck.

"hey, sweetheart," azriel said, hugging dorian just as tightly.

dorian snuggled into his father's embrace, his face on his neck "you're here!" he exclaimed, his excitement echoing through the walls.

"of course," azriel replied, his hand caressing your son's back "i promised you and your mommy, didn't i?"

"yes, yes!" dorian confirmed, too excited to contain his happiness.

your heart melted at the sight, grateful for having your two favorite boys with you.

you approached them, your hand going to dorian's hair and ruffle it a little "did you like your present?" 

dorian lifted his head to look at you, his smile never flattering "yes, best present ever!" 

at the mention of presents, the other boys couldn't contain themselves.

"when can we open the presents?" kaden asked from his seat on nesta's lap.

"soon, we still have to eat dinner first, son." cassian told him, ruffling his hair.

"can't we just have dinner later?" nyx insisted, more than ready to open his presents.

the boys eyes flickered between the adults and all the presents gathered under the tree. 

even dorian couldn't hide his eagerness to open his.

you, living up to the title of coolest aunt, had no choice but to back up the children "since we're all here, we might as well take advantage and open the presents." 

the children cheered and didn't waste another second before launching themselves towards their presents.

your heart swelled with love and affection, seeing that dorian was happy, his sadness from earlier completely forgotten.

you and azriel observed as he opened his presents, his face lit up.

your arms wrapped around azriel's waist, pulling him closer to you "thank you."

azriel's hands found their place on your hips, as they belong there "for what?" 

you studied his features before answering softly "for keeping your promise." 

azriel's eyes softened, his heart filled with pride and love "of course, there's nowhere else where i would rather be than here." 

you couldn't help the small blush that painted your cheeks and drew a chuckle of amusement from azriel. 

you leaned forward to peck his lips, enjoy your little bubble of love for a little longer.

"i love you," you whispered to him.

he rested his forehead against yours, his hands leaving your hips and finding your baby bump.

"i love you more."

you didn't try to argue with him, knowing already how azriel had about a thousand arguments to use in his favor and how he was the one who loved you more.

with a small peck to his nose, you reluctantly pulled away. 

azriel took a seat on the sofa, pulling you to sit on his lap while you both watched your son opening his presents.

cassian passed his present to dorian, a box so big it was almost the size of the little boy.

"that's a big present, dorian. what is it?" azriel asked, his arm coming to surround your waist.

you looked at cassian, silently asking him what could he possibly have got dorian that needed a box so big.

when he replied to you with a mischief grin and a wink of an eye, you knew you were in trouble.

"oh, no," you mumbled.

nyx and kaden let out small gasps as dorian's face lit up so much that it could have been a shooting star. 

"it's a guitar!" dorian exclaimed with widened eyes and a bright smile.

you and azriel freezed, your mouths slightly opening, not believing what you had just heard.

you both looked at cassian at the same time. 

the general dismissed you with a shrug of his shoulders "what? dorian is the baby of the family, he deserves special presents."

you and azriel kept looking at him dumbfounded, your reaction making everyone laugh.

"oh, this is priceless," rhys said, taking a sip of his wine.

 nesta patted your knee, her face red from laughter "good luck."

you and azriel looked at each other speechless, but you didn't have time to try to say something when the sound of the guitar reached your ears.

"this is so cool! thank you, uncle cass!" dorian exclaimed.

"you're welcomed, kiddo," cassian replied while ignoring the glares he was receiving from you and azriel.

he was enjoying this entire situation too much to care about your death stares.

however, when on the following winter solstice, you and azriel offered kaden a drum set, cassian didn't find it that funny.

masterlist

general taglist: @emryb @fantasyandshit @azrielover @shadowsingercassia @littlelou22 @brieflyclassymortal @lilah-asteria @meul-a @lure-of-writing @pruvii @olive-main @mybestfriendmademe @anuttellaa @mrsjna @lively-potter @avajustreads @talesofadragon @circe143 @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @dark-chaos-314 @tequilya @scoliobean @saltedcoffeescotch @charlotteintumbleland @agirlwithwifiandalaptop @987coley

*if you asked to be tagged and you weren't, it's because I couldn't find your blog.

the beautiful dividers belong to @cafekitsune

[just-some-random-blogger]

Tormented Spirit | 13

Part 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14

"Is it such a sin to stand up for yourself?" you mutter as tears blur your vision. The way he reacted was visceral, instinctive even. "You never have to stand up for yourself ever again," says Daemon, reaching a hand to you, "come."

Daemon Targaryen x Hightower!Reader | 6k+ | cw: fem!reader, reader has brown hair, wife!reader, twin!Gwayne, arranged/forced marriage, canon divergence, alternate universe, slow burn, DD:DNE, pregnancy, miscarriage, panic/anxiety attacks, suicidal ideation, attempted suicide, daddy issues/child abuse/family problems, mentions/depictions of mental/physical/psychosomatic illness, ye old misogyny, angst, typos, etc.

A/N: i have realized i dont link the polls to the fics. here's what won last time!! bask in your decisions <3 once again, the high valyrian might be wrong so roll with it and leave comments/reblogs ok!!! HAPPY NEW YEAR!!!! | cross posted on ao3

@arabellasleopardcoat @prettybiching @myllovellybones

Caraxes was never fond of being holed up in the pit, and yet, as King's Landing became apparent on the horizon, the dragon found himself beating his wings faster than normal. When the stench of the pit the creature's nostrils, he knew then, he was home.

Perhaps it was still because he was in his armor, but for Daemon, it was not until Viserys looked upon him, first warily then happily, and embraced him that he felt the realness of it all.

As the entirety of court watched the brothers' affectionate exchange, most thought the display touching... then there were the Hightowers. The only reason Alicent was here in the throne room to greet him was because she was queen and it was expected of her. And Otto did not want to look upon the dastardly prince's face, but he had to see what state he was in for the sake of his eldest daughter.

"My brother has returned!" the king announces, enticing cheers from the onlookers. Lord Hand promptly leaves after this, intent on going to you.

Otto asks the first servant he sees where you are, and is immediately directed to the garden. He is unsurprised to see that not one, but two of your wards are there, evidently on high alert. The moment they spot him, they freeze to greet him in unison, "Lord Hand."

"Does she know?"

The twins share a quick glance, and again, in unison, "everyone knows."

Otto releases a sigh. You know of your husband's return and yet you chose to remain in the gardens. He was about to ask the twins step aside, but then he hears the sound of giggles. He peers past the two, finding you laughing with your nephew in your arms. He rubs his forehead and clenches his jaw, "what did she say?"

Erryk and Arryk stare at Otto's distressed face. The former speaks, " 'he did not wish that I see him off, I should not see to his return'. "

Otto sighs deeply and wipes his face, "Seven save us."

Arryk almost pities your father for how worried he looked... but almost is not enough; he'll never forget the tears you shed because of him. No one in your family seemed to grant you grace.

"As it is," Lord Hightower raises his hands, "the prince is in good spirits, and I am sure he will not so soon look for her as he would the cups of wine he wishes to share with the king. Do not impose upon the prince if he does come around," Otto raises a finger, "but do not let his entitlement get into his head."

The Cargll twins not in sync, "my lord."

With that, Otto walks off.

Once he is gone, Erryk turns to his brother, "I would sooner fall on my sword than have her husband ruin the happiness she's so delicately built for herself."

Arryk gives him a look, "do not forget yourself."

"I do not," he snaps, "but perhaps you do."

Arryk does not take kindly to his accusatory tone.

"I cannot forget even if I wanted," Erryk looks off, "it my shift when she miscarried," he grits his teeth, "mine, when she tried to fling herself off the eastern tower."

"And it was mine when she locked herself in her bath," Arryk quips, "and when she threw herself at Caraxes, only to have the beast take her under his wing. Do not feel self-righteous in your suffering, for it is not yours," he points, "it's hers."

Erryk clenches his jaw so hard it's a wonder his teeth do not break. He spare his brother a glance.

Arryk turns forward and sighs deeply before repeating, "do not forget yourself."

"Do not forget yourself," he counters.

All three of them are wrong, Arryk, Erryk, and Otto. Otto was wrong to think that Daemon would not look for you before anything else. The prince notices is your absence the very moment he notices your sister. He asks Viserys, "where is my wife?"

Viserys looks over to his Alicent, who clutches her belly and finally approaches, "ah... she's probably with her boy."

Daemon pulls his head back.

"My prince," Alicent smiles half-heartedly to her good-brother, "I trust your travels home were smooth."

He completely ignores her, "her boy?"

Viserys thinks nothing of Daemon's words as he takes wife's hand, "where is your sister, dearest."

Dearest? Daemon's expression curls.

Alicent turns to the king, rubbing her swollen belly, "last I saw her, she was in the gardens with Aegon."

Aegon? Daemon's eyes narrow.

"Oh!" Viserys smiles, turning to Daemon, "you should go to the gardens and fetch them then. Your wife has brought forth new life to the Keep. I encouraged her to write about it to you, but she did not think you would find care to learn it through letters."

Daemon's face falls. New life? You brought forth new life? Without a word, he sprints off to the gardens.

Viserys is momentarily taken aback by this. Alicent is agitated by it, especially because she catches on to the ambiguity of his words. She she squeezes his arm, "do you think this is a good idea?"

"What?" he pulls his head back, "that he see his wife and nephew?"

"He might not take kindly to Aegon. You called him her boy."

Viserys chuckles, "but he is. She loves him so dearly."

"I know, but you made it sound like my sister had a babe."

The king pulls his head back and chuckles. When he realizes Alicent's worry was apparent on her features, he thinks about what he said and shakes his head, "I was talking about the flowers she planted in the garden."

"I know," Alicent repeats, "but does Daemon?"

"Don't be silly, Alicent," Viserys squeezes her hand, "Daemon is not that slow-witted. Besides, does your sister not write to him everyday?"

She clenches her jaw, "yes."

"So," he shrugs, "why would he be so sorely mistaken?"

Except he was; Viserys is also wrong. And as Daemon makes his way toward the gardens, it becomes apparent why Arryk and Erryk too are wrong. Both of them immediately forget themselves upon seeing the approaching prince. They block his path instinctively.

Daemon stops in his tracks, "out of the way."

Erryk stares blankly at him. Arryk shifts on his leg, "allow me a moment to announce your presence to the princess."

"Why would I need to be announced? She is my wife."

"She is with Prince Aegon," Arryk raises a hand and steps forward, "it is in her best interest that I ensure you are welcome while he is present."

Daemon is flabbergasted. He clenches his fists, "why wouldn't I be welcome around my own flesh and blood?!"

"My lady has only recen-"

"Do you deny it!?" Daemon snaps.

They do not reply.

"Do you deny the boy is my flesh and blood?"

The twins know the prince is riled up. If they persist, a fight will surely break out. Though they cared little for the consequences of quarrelling with the newly returned prince, they did care greatly for your peace of mind. This was why Erryk replied, "no, ser."

"Then get out of my fucking way," he snaps.

Arryk and Erryk stare at him. Eventually, they reluctantly step aside.

Daemon, in all his rage and pettiness, makes sure to knock into them as he passes. It was good he was still in his own armor, or else the collision against their steel shoulder pads would have hurt.

"Right, shall we go back now?"

The sound of your voice makes him stop in his tracks. How was it that he was so angry to be denied going to you just now, yet he now can't seem to move from his spot.

"No, my love, we do not pick roses so carelessly."

"Flower!"

Daemon's breath hitches at the sound of the boy's voice.

"You want the rose?" your voice is soft but audible, "you want to pick the rose for mummy?"

Mummy? Daemon slowly inches foward.

"Mummy?" the small voice repeats.

Daemon witnesses the moment the babe reaches for your curls. You brown hair is completely undone, spilling all the way down to your waist. A gentle breeze makes your tresses and skirt flow. His lips part at the beauty of you.

You chuckle when Aegon tries to eat your hair and pull it away before he manages to, "silly boy. Shall we ask Ser Arryk to pick the flower for us?"

"Flower for mummy!" he bounces in your arms.

You bounce him back, making him giggle as you repeat, "flower for mummy!" You flip your hair back, "Ser Arryk, could you-"

Your mouth goes dry when you see Daemon staring back at you. His hair is short and his eyes shine. You nearly choke on your breath, feeling your knees buckle as he slowly walks over. Your hold on Aegon tightens as he reaches out.

You step back. It takes him off-guard. It feels just like when an arrow was shot to his chest. Daemon moves towards the rose bush, picking out a flower, carefully removing its thorns.

"Flower!" Aegon coos and reaches out.

Daemon turns to him, handing the blushing bloom, "rūklon, ñuha tresy." Flower, my son.

You freeze. You freeze because you understand him.

Aegon gives a gummy smile; he shows all his teeth but he only has two at the bottom. He happily groans and grins at you when he has the flower in hand, "FLAWOW!"

You turn to the boy. His shining face instantly shatters the tension and unease you feel. You huff and brush his silver hair back. You freeze again when Daemon's hand comes upon yours.

You turn to him with wide eyes. His eyes are fixed on Aegon, "Rūklon, Aegon. Kostagon vestrā rūklon syt kepa?" Flower, Aegon. Can you say flower for father?

Daemon takes Aegon's chin, making him look to him, "rūklon, Aegon. Rūk-lon."

Your initially shocked expression melts into molten anger.

Aegon looks at his uncle, "rūklon."

Daemon is surprised but immediately pleased. He lets out a rich laugh as he turns to you, "he is good."

"Daor kirimvose naejot ao." you snap, pulling Aegon away from him. No thanks to you.

He pulls his chin back. He watches in shock as you turn to move the prince away. You glare as you do so, eyes beady and pink. His forehead wrinkles.

"Eman gūrēntan Valyrio Eglie sīr bona kostan bodmagho zirȳla. Emā daorun naejot jiōragon zirȳla." I have learned High Valyrian so that I can teach him. You have nothing to offer him.

Your frosty words make him pull his head back again. "daorun?" Nothing.

"Kessa," you nod, "daorun" Yes. Nothing.

His eye twitches as he shakes his head in disbelief, "iksan se valītsos kepa." I am the boy's father.

The severity of your laugher is haunting. His eyes widen and his skin pricks with goosebumps. You throw you head back, feeling a tear run down your face. You sigh and shake your head as you turn back to him, "you are completely devoid of both heart and mind, aren't you?"

Daemon too stunned to do anything but stare.

You turn. Daemon finally sees Aegon playing with the flower. You catch his attention by brushing his hair back, "my love," you start, "qilōni iksis aōha kepa?" who is your father?

Aegon looks up at you with little interest.

"Kepa, Aegon, kepa."

"Kepa?" he repeats.

"Kessa, skoros gaomas kepa gaomagon?" Yes, what does father do?

Aegon raises his rose, "dārys!"

King? Daemon's face falls.

You smile and bounce the child in your arms, "rōvēgrior!"

He tenses at the sound of the word. Rōvēgrior. Excellent. There was a time where you could not say that word at all. He taught that to you. And yet as you turn to him, your face destitute of any happiness that you had offered Aegon, it felt at though it was a memory he just conjured up.

"You are no more related to the boy than I am," you quip, "she is my sister's first born."

"Viserys said you brought for new life in the Keep," he mutters, as if he was afraid he heard wrong.

Your jaw feathers, but as the wind blows, you catch sight of the flowers, "he meant the roses," you turn to the said blooms. You laugh, bitterness pulling out a mocking smile from you, "how could you expect a son from me?"

Daemon shifts in his spot, ready to argue, but he quickly finds he had nothing to say to that. He thinks of all the seed he's spilled on your skin. He thinks of his persistence in leaving your womb empty. He thinks of the discipline he employed to ensure he would never finish in you. He clenches his jaw.

You turn to him; tears begin to fall from your eyes. Aegon notices and reaches for your cheeks; his flower falls to the floor, forgotten.

You and Daemon stare at each other. You feel your breath begin to shorten the longer you do.

Your expression falls when you hear Aegon begin to fuss. You immediately steel yourself away as you turn to your nephew; the boy looks like his on the brink of tears. You sniffle and shush him, "no, no, no-"

It's too late. He begins to cry.

You push past Daemon with little regard. Your wards turn to you upon hearing Aegon's cries. You say nothing to them, your full attention on Aegon as you rock him in your arms, "the fishes swim in seas of blue, and dragons breath fire so red..."

Arryk and Erryk follow after you.

Daemon is left alone in the middle of the garden.

He has no word to describe what he felt in that moment. He was stunned, hurt, saddened, torn. He was angry. How could you do this to him? You had begged him not to go, and now that he's returned, you treat him like... like you hated him.

He laughs dryly under his breath. Was this a game? Was this your way of getting back at him? He laughs louder as he walks off. He could hate you back better.

Daemon joins the luncheon the king throws in honor of his return. He does not waste his time and makes a show of himself.

It is easy for him to fall back into his old ways once he is in his princely garbs. He openly and unabashedly flirts with all the ladies he can set his eyes upon and eagerly annoys and offers backhanded compliments to all the lords present.

It gets so bad that Viserys has to intervene. Even Alicent and Rhaenyra, who had not spoken to each other since the king's wedding, find each other's company just to momentarily agree that Daemon is being completely callous and tactless.

The king pulls him by the shoulder and Daemon manages to snag a cup of wine as he is pried away from the offensive conversation he instigated.

"I understand that you are overjoyed to be home," Viserys leads him off, "but please, control yourself."

Daemon pouts, facetious, "kessa, kepa." Yes, father.

He bristles, "iksan issare dokimare. Emagon mirri iotāptenon syt aōha ābrazȳrys." I'm being serious. Have some respect for your wife.

Daemon immediately shoves Visersys's hand off him at the mention of you. He snaps, "gaomagon daor ȳdragon naejot nyke hen bona aspo!" Do not speak to me of that bitch!

The queen and princess, along with the rest of the people present, turn to the brothers upon hearing raised voices.

"Uncle!" Rhaenyra calls him out, offended by the conversation only she and they could understand.

Daemon turns to her, chucking his drink to the side before storming off.

Viserys rolls his eyes and sigh, "Daemon."

Alicent walks over to her husband.

"Daemon!" the king snaps.

"Leave it to me, father," Rhaenyra says, following after her uncle.

Daemon is back at the gardens. He snaps over his shoulder, "fuck off!"

Rhaenyra rolls her eyes, "what has gotten you so sour?"

"HER!" Daemon whips back around, eyes red and glassy, "THAT HIGHTOWER BITCH!"

Rhaenyra recoils and pulls her head back in shock. She carefully mutters, "you can't possibly mean Alicent, can you?"

"Her and the whole lot!" Daemon throws a hand out, "they can all drop dead for all I care."

The princess watches him pace around. Her brows knit, "I would say I am comforted that you share in my offence over my father and Alicent's union, but I cannot say I do. I know you have long hated Otto, and Gwayne, as he's bested you in tourneys—"

Daemon steps forward, "have you followed me to further spur-"

"But what has -"

"Don't you fucking speak her name to me!"

Rhaenyra is taken aback by this. The two stare at each other, and as Daemon heaves. Her face hardens, "what could you possibly be angry about?"

"She did not even greet me!" Daemon points to nowhere.

Rhaenyra laughs. It goes dry when she realizes he was being serious. Her face contorts, "Daemon."

He looks away.

Her lips curl, "she just got better"

His brows furrow.

"You do know that?" she tilts her head, "right?"

Have you been sick?

"Seven hells," Rhaenyra's face falls, "you don't know."

"..."

"She writes to you everyday," she motions vaguely, "I have not been in King's Landing for many moons, but even I know this."

"War makes time for-"

"Then why are you angry?!"

"..."

Rhaenyra raises her brows at him. Daemon remains unable to respond. She rolls her eyes, "welcome home, uncle."

Daemon is left alone in the garden for a second time. He goes back to his personal quarters.

You see him from across the hall just before he enters but he does not see you. Before you can take another step, Arryk and Erryk each take hold of your arms.

"Release me."

"Why should you be the one to go to him?" Arryk asks.

You turn to him, "you know why."

"If he does not want to go to you, do not waste your grace on him," Arryk says, just as you pull away to turn to them.

"He does nothing to understand you," Erryk adds, "and he will misunderstand you so long as it suits himself."

Your eyes immediately water, "why are you turning against me?"

"We are-"

"You think I want to live like this?"

Erryk speaks your name, "he is not ready to face you."

"It's been three years!" you chuckle dryly.

"Let him come to you," Arryk adds.

You scratch your eyes and shake your head, "the bodies of my babes remain unburied, wrapped and sealed in a crypt, because I insist that they be given but one respect due to them in the tradition of their house, and you would deny me-" your voice breaks. Tears run down your cheeks as you try to compose yourself. You clear your throat, "you would deny my son and daughter this?"

The twins do not speak.

You wipe your face roughly with your hands, "well? What say you?!"

Arryk lowers his head. Erryk cannot look at you, but he cannot keep his peace either, which is why he says, "I say they would not want their mother to suffer at the hand of their father."

"Damn you, Erryk!" you shove him back.

Erryk looks at you in shock.

"You dare presume to know my children when I-" gasp, "did not-" gasp, "even-" gasp.

Your guards reach out for you when you begin to topple. They keep you upright and you find yourself too stubborn to faint. You wrangle out of their grasp and lean on your knees as you struggle to catch your breath.

When you straighten up, you look and see Erryk's teary eyes. You feel terrible. It nearly makes you lose your breath again. You groan and sink your face into your hands, "I can never win, can I?"

"Princess," Erryk mutters, "forgive me, I-"

"Enough," you raise a hand to him, "I will not have my children be the cause of conflict."

Erryk nods and keeps his head bowed. Arryk turns to him before doing the same.

You sigh, belly churning with sadness and guilt, "come," you take their hands, "my twins waited this long for their father. They can wait a little longer."

Daemon, through in his adamant refusal to read your letters, kept every single one of them, even the ones he trampled on in his anger. Three sacks of letters, there were three sacks that contained all of the letters you sent him, one for every year he was gone. He empties them out on his bed. He walks to his trunk of clothing and grabs the only one he ever read and rereads it.

He walks back to his bed and sits a the floor. He flattens out the parchment beside him, then haphazardly reaches for another one.

𝔇𝔞𝔢𝔪𝔬𝔫, ℑ 𝔥𝔬𝔭𝔢 𝔶𝔬𝔲 𝔞𝔯𝔢 𝔥𝔢𝔞𝔩𝔱𝔥𝔶 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔴𝔢𝔩𝔩. ℑ𝔱 𝔦𝔰 𝔪𝔶 𝔫𝔞𝔪𝔢𝔡𝔞�� 𝔱𝔬𝔡𝔞𝔶. ℑ 𝔱𝔢𝔩𝔩 𝔶𝔬𝔲 𝔱𝔥𝔦𝔰 𝔣𝔬𝔯 𝔫𝔬 𝔬𝔱𝔥𝔢𝔯 𝔯𝔢𝔞𝔰𝔬𝔫 𝔱𝔥𝔞𝔫 𝔱𝔬 𝔰𝔭𝔢𝔞𝔨 𝔬𝔣 𝔥𝔬𝔴 𝔰𝔲𝔯𝔭𝔯𝔦𝔰𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔦𝔱 𝔦𝔰. ℑ 𝔫𝔬 𝔩𝔬𝔫𝔤𝔢𝔯 𝔣𝔢𝔢𝔩 𝔱𝔦𝔪𝔢 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔰𝔞𝔪𝔢 𝔴𝔞𝔶. 𝔜𝔬𝔲 𝔩𝔢𝔞𝔳𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔪𝔢 𝔥𝔞𝔰 𝔪𝔞𝔡𝔢 𝔦𝔱 𝔰𝔬. ℑ 𝔪𝔦𝔰𝔰 𝔶𝔬𝔲. ℑ 𝔥𝔬𝔭𝔢 𝔱𝔥𝔦𝔰 𝔴𝔦𝔩𝔩 𝔟𝔢 𝔪𝔶 𝔣𝔦𝔫𝔞𝔩 𝔫𝔞𝔪𝔢𝔡𝔞𝔶 𝔠𝔢𝔩𝔢𝔟𝔯𝔞𝔱𝔢𝔡 𝔴𝔦𝔱𝔥𝔬𝔲𝔱 𝔶𝔬𝔲. 𝔜𝔬𝔲𝔯 𝔚𝔦𝔣𝔢.

Daemon flattens the parchment, stacks it on the previous one, and grabs another letter.

𝔓𝔯𝔦𝔫𝔠𝔢 𝔇𝔞𝔢𝔪𝔬𝔫, ℑ 𝔥𝔬𝔭𝔢 𝔶𝔬𝔲 𝔞𝔯𝔢 𝔥𝔢𝔞𝔩𝔱𝔥𝔶 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔴𝔢𝔩𝔩. ℑ 𝔨𝔫𝔬𝔴 𝔶𝔬𝔲 𝔡𝔬 𝔫𝔬𝔱 𝔯𝔢𝔞𝔡 𝔪𝔶 𝔩𝔢𝔱𝔱𝔢𝔯𝔰, 𝔶𝔢𝔱 ℑ 𝔠𝔞𝔫𝔫𝔬𝔱 𝔟𝔯𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔪𝔶𝔰𝔢𝔩𝔣 𝔱𝔬 𝔰𝔱𝔬𝔭 𝔴𝔯𝔦𝔱𝔦𝔫𝔤. 𝔜𝔬𝔲𝔫𝔤 𝔏𝔬𝔯𝔡 𝔏𝔞𝔢𝔫𝔬𝔯 𝔙𝔢𝔩𝔞𝔯𝔶𝔬𝔫 𝔥𝔞𝔰 𝔴𝔯𝔦𝔱𝔱𝔢𝔫 𝔱𝔬 𝔪𝔢 𝔦𝔫 𝔠𝔬𝔫𝔠𝔢𝔯𝔫 𝔱𝔬 𝔱���𝔩𝔩 𝔪𝔢 𝔰𝔬. ℌ𝔬𝔴 𝔥𝔞𝔭𝔭𝔶 ℑ 𝔴𝔞𝔰 𝔱𝔬 𝔩𝔢𝔞𝔯𝔫 𝔴𝔬𝔯𝔡 𝔣𝔯𝔬𝔪 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔖𝔱𝔢𝔭𝔰𝔱𝔬𝔫𝔢𝔰 𝔥𝔞𝔰 𝔠𝔬𝔪𝔢 𝔣𝔬𝔯 𝔪𝔢, 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔥𝔬𝔴 𝔤𝔯𝔢𝔞𝔱𝔩𝔶 𝔪𝔶 𝔥𝔢𝔞𝔯𝔱 𝔞𝔠𝔥𝔢𝔡 𝔱𝔬 𝔨𝔫𝔬𝔴 𝔦𝔱 𝔴𝔞𝔰 𝔫𝔬𝔱 𝔣𝔯𝔬𝔪 𝔶𝔬𝔲. ℑ 𝔥𝔞𝔳𝔢 𝔴𝔯𝔦𝔱𝔱𝔢𝔫 𝔱𝔬 𝔥𝔦𝔪 𝔪𝔞𝔫𝔶 𝔱𝔦𝔪𝔢𝔰 𝔬𝔳𝔢𝔯 𝔰𝔦𝔫𝔠𝔢, 𝔱𝔥𝔬𝔲𝔤𝔥 𝔫𝔬𝔱 𝔢𝔳𝔢𝔯𝔶𝔡𝔞𝔶 𝔩𝔦𝔨𝔢 𝔶𝔬𝔲. ℌ𝔢 𝔰𝔞𝔶𝔰 𝔶𝔬𝔲 𝔞𝔯𝔢 𝔞𝔫𝔤𝔯𝔶 𝔬𝔣𝔱, 𝔞𝔱 𝔶𝔬𝔲𝔯 𝔞𝔡𝔳𝔢𝔯𝔰𝔞𝔯𝔦𝔢𝔰, 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔶𝔬𝔲𝔯 𝔞𝔩𝔩𝔦𝔢𝔰. 𝔇𝔬 𝔫𝔬𝔱 𝔟𝔢 𝔞𝔫𝔤𝔯𝔶 𝔞𝔱 𝔥𝔦𝔪; ℑ 𝔯𝔢𝔤𝔞𝔯𝔡 𝔥𝔦𝔪 𝔞𝔰 𝔞 𝔣𝔯𝔦𝔢𝔫𝔡. ℑ 𝔪𝔢𝔫𝔱𝔦𝔬𝔫 𝔥𝔦𝔰 𝔫𝔞𝔪𝔢 𝔦𝔫 𝔪𝔶 𝔭𝔯𝔞𝔶𝔢𝔯𝔰 𝔞𝔰 ℑ 𝔡𝔬 𝔶𝔬𝔲. 𝔖𝔦𝔫𝔠𝔢𝔯𝔢𝔩𝔶, 𝔏𝔞𝔡𝔶 ℌ𝔦𝔤𝔥𝔱𝔬𝔴𝔢𝔯

He knits his brows, flattens the parchment, stacks it on the previous one, and grabs another letter.

𝔓𝔯𝔦𝔫𝔠𝔢 𝔇𝔞𝔢𝔪𝔬𝔫, 𝔏𝔢𝔞𝔫𝔬𝔯 𝔥𝔞𝔰 𝔴𝔯𝔦𝔱𝔱𝔢𝔫 𝔱𝔥𝔞𝔱 𝔶𝔬𝔲'𝔳𝔢 𝔤𝔬𝔱𝔱𝔢𝔫 𝔦𝔫𝔱𝔬 𝔞𝔫 𝔞𝔯𝔤𝔲𝔪𝔢𝔫𝔱 𝔴𝔦𝔱𝔥 𝔥𝔦𝔪. ℌ𝔢 𝔱𝔢𝔩𝔩𝔰 𝔪𝔢 𝔱𝔥𝔞𝔱 𝔶𝔬𝔲 𝔫𝔢𝔞𝔯𝔩𝔶 𝔞𝔱𝔱𝔞𝔠𝔨𝔢𝔡 𝔥𝔦𝔪 𝔣𝔬𝔯 𝔬𝔣𝔣𝔢𝔯𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔞𝔫 𝔬𝔭𝔦𝔫𝔦𝔬𝔫 𝔠𝔬𝔫𝔱𝔯𝔞𝔯𝔶 𝔱𝔬 𝔶𝔬𝔲𝔯𝔰. ℌ𝔢 𝔭𝔯𝔬𝔲𝔡𝔩𝔶 𝔢𝔫𝔡𝔢𝔡 𝔱𝔥𝔞𝔱 𝔥𝔢 𝔪𝔞𝔫𝔞𝔤𝔢𝔡 𝔱𝔬 𝔠𝔥𝔞𝔫𝔤𝔢 𝔶𝔬𝔲𝔯 𝔪𝔦𝔫𝔡. ℑ 𝔢𝔫𝔳𝔶 𝔥𝔦𝔪. ℑ 𝔱𝔥𝔦𝔫𝔨 𝔬𝔫𝔩𝔶 𝔪𝔶 𝔡𝔢𝔞𝔱𝔥 𝔠𝔬𝔲𝔩𝔡 𝔢𝔳𝔢𝔯 𝔠𝔥𝔞𝔫𝔤𝔢 𝔶𝔬𝔲𝔯 𝔪𝔦𝔫𝔡. 𝔓𝔩𝔢𝔞𝔰𝔢 𝔯𝔢𝔭𝔩𝔶.

His face falls at your sentiment. You think this? He wonders for a moment what he and Laenor argued over, but he cannot recall anything for the life of him. The next letter he opens makes him sit up straight.

ℑ'𝔪 𝔡𝔶𝔦𝔫𝔤. 𝔓𝔩𝔢𝔞𝔰𝔢 𝔠𝔬𝔪𝔢 𝔥𝔬𝔪𝔢.

This letter drives him mad, because it is the only one like it. He rips open more than a dozen letters, yet all of them are like all the rest. He reads some more about Laenor, some of Gwayne and Alicent, some of Otto, some of Arryk and Erryk, some of Viserys, but most of them are about the mundane things you busy yourself with. Mundane things you do to distract yourself from him.

He does not know what to make of it.

Then, he unfolds a piece of paper with hastily written script.

𝔖𝔢𝔳𝔢𝔫, 𝔦𝔣 𝔱𝔥𝔢𝔯𝔢 𝔦𝔰 𝔞 𝔩𝔢𝔱𝔱ℯ𝓇 𝓎ℴ𝓊 𝒾𝓃𝓈𝓅𝒾𝓇ℯ 𝓂𝓎 𝒽𝓊𝓈𝒷𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓉ℴ 𝓇ℯ𝒶𝒹, 𝓁ℯ𝓉 𝒾𝓉 𝒷ℯ 𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓈. ℐ 𝒽𝒶𝓋ℯ 𝓃ℴ𝓉 𝓌𝓇𝒾𝓉𝓉ℯ𝓃 𝒶𝒷ℴ𝓊𝓉 𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓈 𝒷ℯ𝒸𝒶𝓊𝓈ℯ ℐ 𝓌𝒶𝓈 𝒶𝒻𝓇𝒶𝒾𝒹 𝓉ℴ, 𝒷𝓊𝓉 𝒟𝒶ℯ𝓂ℴ𝓃, ℐ 𝓌𝒶𝓈 𝓌𝒾𝓉𝒽 𝒸𝒽𝒾𝓁𝒹. ℐ 𝒸𝒶𝓃 𝒷𝒶𝓇ℯ𝓁𝓎 𝓈ℯℯ 𝓉𝒽ℯ 𝓅𝒶𝓅ℯ𝓇 𝒶𝓈 ℐ 𝓌𝓇𝒾𝓉ℯ 𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓈 𝒶𝓃𝒹 ℐ 𝒻ℯ𝒶𝓇 ℐ 𝓂𝒾ℊ𝒽𝓉 𝓃ℯℯ𝒹 𝓉ℴ 𝒸𝒽𝒶𝓃ℊℯ 𝓉𝒽ℯ 𝓅𝒶𝓇𝒸𝒽𝓂ℯ𝓃𝓉 𝒶ℊ𝒶𝒾𝓃. 𝒞ℴ𝓂ℯ 𝒽ℴ𝓂ℯ. ℐ 𝒾𝓂𝓅𝓁ℴ𝓇ℯ 𝓎ℴ𝓊, ℐ 𝒷ℯ𝓈ℯℯ𝒸𝒽 𝓎ℴ𝓊— 𝒸ℴ𝓂ℯ 𝒽ℴ𝓂ℯ.

"I was with child?" Daemon repeats to himself.

He frantically grabs a bunch of letters and skims through them, desperate to learn more of this. He goes through 5, 10, 20, 50, 100 letters, but none of them ever mention such a thing ever again.

At some point, the letters become singular.

𝔐𝔶 𝔥𝔲𝔰𝔟𝔞𝔫𝔡, ℑ 𝔠𝔞𝔫𝔫𝔬𝔱 𝔢𝔞𝔱. ℑ 𝔭𝔥𝔶𝔰𝔦𝔠𝔞𝔩𝔩𝔶 𝔠𝔞𝔫𝔫𝔬𝔱 𝔟𝔯𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔪𝔶𝔰𝔢𝔩𝔣 𝔱𝔬 𝔢𝔞𝔱 𝔬𝔯 𝔨𝔢𝔢𝔭 𝔪𝔶 𝔣𝔬𝔬𝔡 𝔡𝔬𝔴𝔫. ℑ 𝔞𝔪 𝔞 𝔡𝔢𝔠𝔞𝔶𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔠𝔬𝔯𝔭𝔰𝔢 𝔴𝔦𝔱𝔥 𝔞 𝔭𝔲𝔩𝔰𝔢. ℑ 𝔨𝔫𝔬𝔴 𝔪𝔶 𝔪𝔬𝔱𝔥𝔢𝔯 𝔪𝔦𝔰𝔰𝔢𝔰 𝔪𝔢 𝔳𝔢𝔯𝔶 𝔪𝔲𝔠𝔥. 𝔖𝔥𝔢 𝔠𝔞𝔩𝔩𝔰 𝔱𝔬 𝔪𝔢, 𝔱𝔥𝔬𝔲𝔤𝔥 𝔪𝔶 𝔣𝔞𝔱𝔥𝔢𝔯 𝔡𝔢𝔫𝔦𝔢𝔰 𝔦𝔱. ℑ 𝔥𝔬𝔭𝔢 𝔶𝔬𝔲 𝔳𝔦𝔰𝔦𝔱 𝔪𝔶 𝔱𝔬𝔪𝔟 𝔬𝔫𝔠𝔢. 𝔜𝔬𝔲𝔯 𝔚𝔦𝔣𝔢

They all speak of your apparently imminent demise.

𝔐𝔶 𝔥𝔲𝔰𝔟𝔞𝔫𝔡, ℑ 𝔞𝔪 𝔯𝔬𝔱𝔱𝔦𝔫𝔤. 𝔄𝔩𝔩 𝔴𝔥𝔬 𝔰𝔢𝔢𝔰 𝔪𝔢 𝔱𝔢𝔩𝔩𝔰 𝔪𝔢 𝔬𝔱𝔥𝔢𝔯𝔴𝔦𝔰𝔢, 𝔟𝔲𝔱 ℑ 𝔠𝔞𝔫 𝔣𝔢𝔢𝔩 𝔦𝔱. 𝔉𝔬𝔯𝔤𝔦𝔳𝔢 𝔪𝔢 𝔣𝔬𝔯 𝔪𝔶 𝔱𝔯𝔞𝔫𝔰𝔤𝔯𝔢𝔰𝔰𝔦𝔬𝔫𝔰. ℑ 𝔩𝔬𝔳𝔢 𝔶𝔬𝔲. 𝔜𝔬𝔲𝔯 𝔚𝔦𝔣𝔢

It goes on for far too long.

𝔐𝔶 𝔥𝔲𝔰𝔟𝔞𝔫𝔡, ℑ 𝔞𝔪 𝔫𝔲𝔪𝔟. ℑ 𝔫𝔬 𝔩𝔬𝔫𝔤𝔢𝔯 𝔣𝔢𝔢𝔩 𝔭𝔞𝔦𝔫. ℑ 𝔨𝔫𝔬𝔠𝔨𝔢𝔡 𝔬𝔳𝔢𝔯 𝔞 𝔠𝔞𝔫𝔡𝔩𝔢 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔟𝔲𝔯𝔫𝔢𝔡 𝔪𝔶 𝔥𝔞𝔫𝔡. ℑ 𝔣𝔢𝔩𝔱 𝔫𝔬 𝔴𝔞𝔯𝔪𝔱𝔥 𝔣𝔯𝔬𝔪 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔣𝔩𝔞𝔪𝔢. 𝔓𝔢𝔯𝔥𝔞𝔭𝔰 𝔦𝔱 𝔦𝔰 𝔪𝔶 𝔡𝔢𝔰𝔱𝔦𝔫𝔶 𝔱𝔬 𝔡𝔦𝔢 𝔟𝔶 𝔡𝔯𝔞𝔤𝔬𝔫 𝔣𝔦𝔯𝔢. ℑ𝔱 𝔴𝔦𝔩𝔩 𝔟𝔢 𝔭𝔞𝔦𝔫𝔩𝔢𝔰𝔰. 𝔜𝔬𝔲𝔯 𝔚𝔦𝔣𝔢

Daemon's stomach rolls. He cannot bare to read any more, and yet his guilt urges him to drink up this pain, as if it would make it go away, as if it could make up for what he had done.

The moon begins to fade as the sun begins to rise. He reads hundreds of letters that speak nothing but your pain and desire for death. His face is wet with tears and bitterness linger in his mouth. He no longer is on the floor. He lies on his bed, surround by his wife's misery.

He wails. He can do nothing else as he takes in your words.

Then, for the final time, the tone changes.

𝔓𝔯𝔦𝔫𝔠𝔢 𝔇𝔞𝔢𝔪𝔬𝔫, 𝔗𝔥𝔢𝔯𝔢 𝔦𝔰 𝔫𝔬 𝔭𝔢𝔞𝔠𝔢 𝔩𝔦𝔨𝔢 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔣𝔞𝔠𝔢 𝔬𝔣 𝔪𝔶 𝔰𝔦𝔰𝔱𝔢𝔯'𝔰 𝔰𝔬𝔫. ℌ𝔢 𝔦𝔰 𝔪𝔶 𝔡𝔢𝔢𝔭𝔢𝔰𝔱 𝔰𝔬𝔯𝔯𝔬𝔴 𝔪𝔞𝔫𝔦𝔣𝔢𝔰𝔱𝔢𝔡 𝔦𝔫𝔱𝔬 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔟𝔯𝔦𝔤𝔥𝔱𝔢𝔰𝔱 𝔢𝔶𝔢𝔰. ℌ𝔢 𝔴𝔢𝔢𝔭𝔰 𝔢𝔞𝔠𝔥 𝔱𝔦𝔪𝔢 ℑ 𝔥𝔬𝔩𝔡 𝔥𝔦𝔪, 𝔣𝔬𝔯 𝔥𝔢 𝔩𝔬𝔞𝔱𝔥𝔢𝔰 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔟𝔦𝔱𝔱𝔢𝔯𝔫𝔢𝔰𝔰 𝔢𝔪𝔞𝔫𝔞𝔱𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔣𝔯𝔬𝔪 𝔪𝔶 𝔣𝔬𝔯𝔪. ℌ𝔦𝔰 𝔠𝔯𝔦𝔢𝔰 𝔞𝔯𝔢 𝔴𝔦𝔫𝔡𝔠𝔥𝔦𝔪𝔢𝔰 𝔱𝔬 𝔪𝔢. ℑ 𝔴𝔬𝔲𝔩𝔡 𝔥𝔞𝔳𝔢 𝔩𝔬𝔳𝔢𝔡 𝔱𝔬 𝔥𝔢𝔞𝔯 𝔪𝔦𝔫𝔢 𝔬��𝔫 𝔰𝔬𝔫 𝔬𝔯 𝔡𝔞𝔲𝔤𝔥𝔱𝔢𝔯 𝔪𝔞𝔨𝔢 𝔰𝔲𝔠𝔥 𝔞 𝔱𝔢𝔫𝔡𝔢𝔯 𝔫𝔬𝔦𝔰𝔢. 𝔏𝔞𝔡𝔶 ℌ𝔦𝔤𝔥𝔱𝔬𝔴𝔢𝔯

... mine own son or daughter. Daemon wipes his face.

𝔓𝔯𝔦𝔫𝔠𝔢 𝔇𝔞𝔢𝔪𝔬𝔫, 𝔄𝔢𝔤𝔬𝔫 𝔦𝔰 𝔪𝔶 𝔨𝔢𝔢𝔭𝔢𝔯. ℑ 𝔡𝔢𝔱𝔢𝔰𝔱 𝔱𝔥𝔞𝔱 𝔦𝔱 𝔦𝔰 𝔰𝔬, 𝔟𝔲𝔱 𝔦𝔱 𝔦𝔰 𝔱𝔯𝔲𝔩𝔶 𝔥𝔦𝔰 𝔩𝔦𝔣𝔢 𝔱𝔥𝔞𝔱 𝔰𝔲𝔰𝔱𝔞𝔦𝔫𝔰 𝔪𝔦𝔫𝔢 𝔬𝔴𝔫. ℑ𝔣 ℑ 𝔠𝔬𝔲𝔩𝔡, ℑ 𝔴𝔬𝔲𝔩𝔡 𝔟𝔞𝔯𝔢 𝔞𝔩𝔩 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔭𝔞𝔦𝔫 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔰𝔬𝔯𝔯𝔬𝔴 𝔱𝔥𝔞𝔱 𝔥𝔢 𝔴𝔬𝔲𝔩𝔡 𝔢𝔳𝔢𝔯 𝔥𝔞𝔳𝔢 𝔰𝔬 𝔱𝔥𝔞𝔱 𝔥𝔦𝔰 𝔩𝔦𝔣𝔢 𝔦𝔰 𝔣𝔦𝔩𝔩𝔢𝔡 𝔴𝔦𝔱𝔥 𝔫𝔬𝔱𝔥𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔟𝔲𝔱 𝔩𝔬𝔳𝔢 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔧𝔬𝔶. ℑ 𝔩𝔬𝔳𝔢 𝔥𝔦𝔪 𝔪𝔬𝔯𝔢 𝔱𝔥𝔞𝔫 𝔞𝔫𝔶𝔱𝔥𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔬𝔫 𝔱𝔥𝔦𝔰 𝔡𝔯𝔢𝔞𝔯𝔶 𝔴𝔬𝔯𝔩𝔡. ℑ 𝔨𝔫𝔬𝔴 𝔶𝔬𝔲 𝔴𝔦𝔩𝔩 𝔩𝔬𝔳𝔢 𝔥𝔦𝔪 𝔱𝔬𝔬. 𝔏𝔞𝔡𝔶 ℌ𝔦𝔤𝔥𝔱𝔬𝔴𝔢𝔯

He knits his brows and sits up. All the remaining letters are about Aegon.

𝔇𝔞𝔢𝔪𝔬𝔫, 𝔗𝔬𝔡𝔞𝔶 𝔪𝔞𝔯𝔨𝔰 𝔞 𝔶𝔢𝔞𝔯 𝔰𝔦𝔫𝔠𝔢 𝔪𝔶 𝔟𝔢𝔩𝔬𝔳𝔢𝔡 𝔄𝔢𝔤𝔬𝔫 𝔥𝔞𝔰 𝔟𝔢𝔢𝔫 𝔟𝔬𝔯𝔫. ℌ𝔢 𝔞𝔰𝔱𝔬𝔲𝔫𝔡𝔰 𝔪𝔢 𝔢𝔳𝔢𝔯𝔶𝔡𝔞𝔶. ℑ 𝔠𝔞𝔫𝔫𝔬𝔱 𝔠𝔬𝔫𝔱𝔞𝔦𝔫 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔥𝔞𝔭𝔭𝔦𝔫𝔢𝔰𝔰 ℑ 𝔣𝔢𝔢𝔩 𝔴𝔥𝔢𝔫 ℑ 𝔱𝔥𝔦𝔫𝔨 𝔬𝔣 𝔥𝔦𝔪, 𝔪𝔲𝔠𝔥 𝔩𝔢𝔰𝔰 𝔱𝔥𝔞𝔱 𝔬𝔣 𝔴𝔥𝔢𝔫 𝔥𝔢 𝔦𝔰 𝔞𝔯𝔬𝔲𝔫𝔡. ℑ𝔱 𝔦𝔰 𝔪𝔶 𝔪𝔬𝔰𝔱 𝔢𝔞𝔯𝔫𝔢𝔰𝔱 𝔴𝔦𝔰𝔥 𝔱𝔥𝔞𝔱 𝔶𝔬𝔲𝔯 𝔣𝔞𝔪𝔦𝔩𝔶 𝔣𝔢𝔢𝔩𝔰 𝔱𝔥𝔦𝔰 𝔱𝔬𝔬. 𝔙𝔦𝔰𝔢𝔯𝔶𝔰 𝔴𝔦𝔱𝔥𝔥𝔬𝔩𝔡𝔰 𝔥𝔦𝔪𝔰𝔢𝔩𝔣 𝔬𝔣 𝔥𝔦𝔰 𝔞𝔣𝔣𝔢𝔠𝔱𝔦𝔬𝔫𝔰 𝔞𝔱 𝔱𝔦𝔪𝔢𝔰; ℑ 𝔱𝔥𝔦𝔫𝔨 𝔦𝔱 𝔦𝔰 𝔟𝔢𝔠𝔞𝔲𝔰𝔢 𝔥𝔢 𝔯𝔢𝔠𝔞𝔩𝔩𝔰 𝔰𝔦𝔪𝔦𝔩𝔞𝔯 𝔪𝔢𝔪𝔬𝔯𝔦𝔢𝔰 𝔴𝔦𝔱𝔥 ℜ𝔥𝔞𝔢𝔫𝔶𝔯𝔞. ℑ 𝔡𝔬 𝔫𝔬𝔱 𝔣𝔞𝔲𝔩𝔱 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔶𝔬𝔲𝔫𝔤 𝔥𝔢𝔦𝔯 𝔣𝔬𝔯 𝔥𝔢𝔯 𝔠𝔬𝔩𝔡𝔫𝔢𝔰𝔰 𝔱𝔬𝔴𝔞𝔯𝔡𝔰 𝔥𝔢𝔯 𝔥𝔞𝔩𝔣 𝔟𝔯𝔬𝔱𝔥𝔢𝔯; 𝔰𝔱𝔦𝔩𝔩, 𝔢𝔞𝔠𝔥 𝔡𝔞𝔶 ℑ 𝔭𝔯𝔞𝔶 𝔰𝔥𝔢 𝔣𝔦𝔫𝔡 𝔰𝔱𝔯𝔢𝔫𝔤𝔱𝔥 𝔱𝔬 𝔬𝔭𝔢𝔫 𝔥𝔢𝔯 𝔥𝔢𝔞𝔯𝔱 𝔱𝔬 𝔥𝔦𝔪. ℑ 𝔥𝔬𝔭𝔢 𝔶𝔬𝔲 𝔡𝔬 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔰𝔞𝔪𝔢 𝔲𝔭𝔬𝔫 𝔶𝔬𝔲𝔯 𝔯𝔢𝔱𝔲𝔯𝔫. 𝔏𝔞𝔡𝔶 ℌ𝔦𝔤𝔥𝔱𝔬𝔴𝔢𝔯

You speak of nothing else save him. You do not mention your affliction, you do not mention your everyday life, you speak only of your affections for Aegon.

The sun rises.

Daemon did not realize he fell asleep until a voice of a servant wakes him. It did not feel like he slept at all; he is still exhausted.

He groans as he sits up. He sees a servant girl staring at the thousand pages scattered across the room. He comes to a stand and begins pick up the papers, "do not mind this. Prepare me a bath. I will break fast with my wife."

The servant watches the prince clean up after himself. She curtsies and does what is instructed.

Daemon had stacked the letters by date as he read them and now tiptoed around the room, gathering the papers in chronological order. He grabs his trunk and files the papers there. By the time he is finished, his trunk is stuffed and his bath water is barely warm.

Neither did the bath wake him fully, nor did it refresh him. What's worse was the scent of his soap broke forth dam of memories for it smelled like you. Resentment for his own folly began to choke him with tears.

His face scarcely resembled him. His angular features were softened with woe, namely his eyes. He cared little for the puffiness rendered him by his tears as he made his way over to your room.

Arryk and Erryk instantly spot him, both of them raising their brows and curling their lips at the look of the prince.

"Is my wife awake?" Daemon asks once he is before them, voice telling of how he had clearly been crying.

Neither of them find sympathy, only disgust and irritation. Erryk particularly despises how readily he refers to you as his wife; he was just a stranger, an evil-doer you had tragically married, "do you see that she's awake?"

Arryk's jaw tenses at his brother's response. He slowly turns to him with knit brows.

Daemon is numb to their hostility, too wrapped up in his self-loathing, "it is nearly noon. Doesn't she wake earlier than this?"

"Yes," Erryk instantly responds, "she did three years ago."

The prince stills. He now recognizes the twins' acrimony. He takes in a breath; he has no desire to start a fight, not when he's freshly just read about your affections for them and how they cared for you in his absence. Daemon wipes his face then raises a hand, "alright. Let me pass. I will wait for her to rouse."

The twins' shoulders hit each other as they block the prince's passage. Arryk tilts his head, "rest does not come easy to her. It would be best if she is not disturbed."

"I will not disturb her," Daemon quips, "I said I would wait for her to rouse."

Erryk raises a brow and motions, "of course, my prince. Feel free to wait for her out here with us."

Daemon stiffens. He grinds his teeth as he debates the truth of the sentiment. He stares at them.

They stare back.

He shakes his head and storms off.

Erryk scoffs in disgust, clutching his scabbard. Arryk scowls at the prince then his brother, "you dunce. This is what we want, for him to go to her."

"Yes," Erryk eyes Daemon hotly, willing his body be burned by his glare, "yet watch how easily he retreats. He wants only to go to her for his own sake, not because he wants to see her."

"Erryk," Arryk places a hand on his arm, "you overstep."

Erryk turns to his brother, "I step my foot exactly where it should be." He looks forward, "if he really wants to see her, he would come back."

And he was right. Daemon really wanted to see you. Why then would he waste his time and patience in quarrelling with your wards when he could simply take the hidden entrance to your chambers? He knew the passages well, after all; this was his home.

Daemon's senses are flooded as he emerges from the darkness.

Your fragrance is nearly tangible to him. He walks towards your vanity and takes a vial of your body oil. He inhales deeply, feeling warmth cascade through his body. He smears a bit on his philtrum. He missed this.

He sets the vial down and brushes his fingers over your jewelry. He takes the robe hung on your vanity chair and smells it. His eyes begin to water. He hangs it back in its place and finally, finally, he turns to you, throat uncomfortably tight.

Your brown hair is fanned out behind you. Your skins glows with invitation to be caressed.

He kneels beside you the way you did before your beloved statue of the Mother. He scratches his eyes when his tears begin to fog his vision. He strokes the back of his hand down your cheek. He fixes the blanket around you.

He watches you intently. He so badly wants to bury his face into the crook of your neck, to feel you, to smell you, to kiss you, but even he knew it was selfish; even he could admit he was undeserving.

The memory of the very first time he had ever beheld your sleeping form plays in his mind as you act it out in real life. Your lips and forehead curl; you stir slightly in your spot. He sighs when the corner of your closed eyes begin to water.

Daemon wipes your tears away, speaking the same words he spoke you then, "amīvindigon sesīr isse ēdrugon." Tormented even in sleep. He strokes your cheek and hair, "mundagon riña." Miserable girl.

He cannot help himself any longer. He shifts on his knees and moves in to press a kiss upon your temple. He leans his forehead on you, closing his eyes to savor your presence.

All is still.

All is solemn.

That is, until you begin to fuss.

You mutter incoherences and begin to moan.

He squeezes your shoulder and kisses you again, "gīda ilagon, ñuha jorrāelagon." Calm down, my love.

You moan out in response.

He pulls his head back with and opens his eyes. You moan again and it becomes clear that you were moaning a name.

"Alyrie."

A line forms between his brows.

"Alaeric."

He feels his chest tighten. What?

You moan as your arms reach out, "stay."

Daemon pulls back, eyes burning with tears. You repeat those names and a pit forms in his stomach, deep and dark. You whine as you embrace your pillow. He watches you press your lips into your pillow. He hears you mutter, "love you."

His throat constricts and he clenches his jaw. He does not like this dream.

You speak those names again and he pulls back, deciding he's had enough. He repeats it, mutters under his breath what he thinks he heard you say, "Arryk and Erryk." After all, how would he know the names Alyrie and Alaeric when you couldn't bare to even think of them, let alone mention them?

And just as he did moments ago, he wastes no time.

Daemon storms away, grabbing a pitcher of water on his way. He is upon them the moment he throws the doors open.

Before either brother can react, one has a pitcher bashed to the back of his head, and the other is kicked from behind. Shrieks pierce the air; your incoming servants witness the brutal onslaught.

All that was not enough to wake you, nothing would.

You startle awake, terrified out of your mind. Not only did you wake from a melancholic slumber, you wake to the sound of screams and battery.

Daemon would have managed to knock out the brothers had they not worn helmets. Still, the blow to the back of Arryk's head left him in a daze and Erryk, who was kicked from behind and shot off to the parallel wall, was no better.

The prince focuses on the closer twin who managed to face him. He kicks Arryk on the chest, knocking him down. He quickly climbs upon his felled body and removes his helmet before splitting his knuckles on his face. He manages to land two punches before he is throttled to the ground by the other Cargyll.

Erryk did not mean to merely subdue him, he was eager to retaliate. He crushes his knee into the prince's back, squeezing the air out of him before flipping him over, intent on breaking his nose at the very least.

Erryk underestimated the raging sense of betrayal that fuels his opponent.

Daemon manages to grab Erryk's neck and squeezes it with all his might. The latter begins to choke but he thrusts his shin-guard into the prince's side, giving him little choice but to scream and loosen his hold due to the the pain.

Erryk finds the upper hand in no time. He pries Daemon's hands off him and launches a right hook. The prince shields his head, still, the knight manages to land some nasty punches.

"ERRYK!" Arryk shouts, prying his brother off. He drags his brother away, and in that moment, you emerge from your room, running barefoot in nothing but your shift.

You notice the twins first, for they were closer to your door. You release a horrified sound at the sight of them. They look at you with hard faces as you walk over, "what is the meaning of this?!"

Erryk shrugs his brother off and points an accusing finger, "the prince attacked us from behind!"

You turn to where he points.

Blood trickles down Daemon's face as he struggles to get on his knees. His lips are busted, nose ruptured, eye swollen. Your face falls at the sight of him. He looks horrendous, even worse than what Gwayne looked like when he fell from his horse during the tourney. A dozen horrible memories begin to flood you. You clutch your chest as you feel it tighten.

Erryk continues, "we would not let him disturb your sleep, but he managed to sneak into your bedroom-"

"What?" you turn to him.

"- then he attacked Arryk with a pitcher," Erryk points to the pitcher on the floor that laid beside a puddle of water, "then he kicked me on the back."

You turn to Arryk, finding his hair, neck, and armor wet. You whimper and wipe your face. You snap at Daemon, "what is wrong with you?!"

You watch your husband come to his feet.

He clutches his side and grunts out your name.

Goosebumps shroud you.

Daemon shudders as he walks over, "gaomagon ao jorrāelagon nyke?" Do you love me?

You instinctively step back where the Cargylls step forward. Your face curls in mortification. Your lips wobble and you shake your head in disbelief. You repeat, "what the fuck is wrong with you?!"

"Gaomagon..." Daemon lowers his head, "ao ēdrurys yno?" Do you dream of me?

You knit your brows tightly. You grit your teeth and clench you fists. You take a step towards him.

He lifts his gaze when you do.

A shiver runs down your spine as he speaks your name.

"Īlē mirre hen ēdrurys nyke mi—" You were alll of the dreams I ev-

You slap him before he can finish his words.

The blood from Daemon's nose sputters to the wall. The action hurts more than the act. He does not look back at you.

You are trembling, neither from your affliction or fear, but out of pure, blinding wrath. You do not tear your gaze from Daemon though you do not speak to him, "the both of you go to the maester's ward."

Arryk and Erryk nod and regard you, "princess."

"Drag him with you," you blurt, turning to your open door, "I will be there shortly after dressing."

[inkedinshadows]

A Matter of Firsts

Day 2: Virginity loss — Cassian x f!reader

Warnings: oral (f receiving), fingering, p in v

Word count: 2.229

A/N: my first non-Azriel fic ever! Both nervous and excited eheh

Things had never gone this far with Cassian.

You had exchanged heated kisses, hands had explored underneath clothes, but never before had you let things escalate so much.

Today felt different. You had thought about it a lot over the past few days and you had come to the conclusion that you wanted more. You and Cassian had been dating for a few months now, and he was the sweetest guy you could ever wish for. You knew he was the one with whom you wanted to share your first time.

When he walked you home after your date, you asked him if he wanted to spend the night. It wasn’t anything you hadn’t done before, but it usually didn’t go beyond cuddles and the occasional fondling.

But now you were straddling his lap, your lips locked in a passionate kiss that you broke only so you could take off your shirt. Cassian’s eyes widened when your bra came off next.

He swallowed, and you could have sworn his fingers twitched where they rested on your thighs. He didn’t touch you, though. He didn’t do anything besides slowly looking up at your face.

“Sweetheart,” he said softly. “Are you sure about this?”

His concern and gentle tone warmed your heart, bringing a smile to your lips—though it was a nervous one.

“I am,” you replied, fingers threading through his long hair. “I really like you, and I want you to be my first, Cass.”

Cassian’s grin was as bright as the sun. “I like you too.” He pulled you in for a soft kiss. “Thank you for trusting me, Y/N.”

His attention turned back to your exposed breasts, and you shivered as his callused hands caressed up your sides, stopping short of touching them.

“May I?” he murmured.

You nodded, your voice barely audible. “Yes.”

He immediately cupped the supple flesh, thumbs brushing over your nipples. Your eyes fluttered and you exhaled deeply. He had touched you before, but there had always been some kind of fabric in between, whether it was your shirt or your bra. Now, the slightest touch sent thousands of little shivers right down to your core.

Cassian didn’t waste much time. His tongue soon shot out to flick your nipple, eliciting a small moan from you. His mouth then closed around it and he rolled it between his lips until it was hard and perky. You were already breathing a bit more heavily when he moved to the other and repeated the process.

“Cass…” you sighed.

He trailed kisses up your collarbone and then your neck, until his mouth found your again. “You are… so beautiful,” he whispered against your lips.

You couldn’t help the heat rising to your cheeks, and he must have noticed it too because he chuckled, cupping your face and gently kissing you again. “Will you lay down for me, sweetheart?”

After pressing your lips to his one more time, you climbed off and settled down next to him, careful to avoid brushing against his wings as you did. Cassian waited for you to be comfortable, watching you move around with a soft smile on his beautiful face, and then his hands were on you, running down your stomach until they reached the hem of your pants.

He looked up at you again. “Can I take them off?”

Once again, you simply nodded. You lifted your hips to help him slide them down your legs and watched as he slowly draped them over the footboard of your bed.

Now only your panties covered you.

Cassian let his gaze wander over your almost naked body, but he didn’t pounce on you the way you had imagined he would. Instead, he took his time to caress your legs, gently parting them so he could kneel in between. Even then, he only lifted one leg to plant a trail of kisses that started at your ankle and descended all the way to your inner thigh.

You swallowed, breath itching as his eyes remained locked on yours the entire time. Each new kiss left a trail of goosebumps in its wake and seemed to make your core throb in anticipation. You could feel wetness pooling there.

When Cassian finished kissing your other leg and his mouth was close to your panties, he brushed them with the tip of his nose, breathing in deeply. You shivered again.

He didn’t speak this time, but you read the silent question in his eyes when he looked up at you again.

“Yes,” you whispered. “Take them off.”

He smiled, placed one last kiss right on the thin fabric, and then proceeded to remove it completely. Before settling down again, he also took off his shirt, revealing his chiseled body and the swirling tattoos that you liked to trace with your fingertips when you cuddled in the morning.

Cassian’s wings rustled behind him as he lay down again and spread your legs a bit more.

“Just relax, sweetheart,” he murmured. His hands were on your hips, drawing lazy circles over them. “We can stop whenever you want.”

You hadn’t realized just how tense and nervous you were at the thought of what was about to happen. Not that you were having second thoughts, but it was still your first time. No one had ever touched you like this before. And the way Cassian was doing everything he could to take things slow, to ensure you were comfortable… you might have fallen in love with him right then and there.

You let out a deep breath, feeling the tension leave your body as you exhaled. You then reached out to take one of his broad hands in yours.

“I don’t want to stop,” you assured him with a smile.

Cassian squeezed your fingers. “Alright, then,” he smirked. “Let me make you feel real good.”

He lowered his head, and then he was licking a stripe up your center. You didn’t know who groaned first as you arched slightly off the bed, but it was the best thing you had ever felt in your whole life. And it only got better when Cassian’s restraint seemed to snap at the lewd sounds that came out of your mouth: his lips closed around your clit and he gently sucked on it while his hand on your stomach held you down, the other one still entwined with yours.

“Cass…” you mumbled incoherently, unable to stay still, too lost to the pleasure.

He paused as he heard you, looking up at you with a newfound concern in his hazel eyes. Before he could ask if you were alright, you gave his hand a gentle squeeze and smiled down at him.

“I’m okay, I just…” You paused, trying to find the right words. “I need more, please.”

The sight of his head between your legs, his eyes on you, and a smirk on his lips threatened to make you crumble.

“As you wish, sweetheart,” he murmured against you.

His tongue resumed its circling of your clit, but his free hand now joined in too. Keeping his gaze on you to make sure you were fine, Cassian probed your entrance with a finger, pushing it inside only when you nodded. You gasped at first, but quickly relaxed around him, allowing him to pump it in and out slowly.

You were racing toward an edge you had no idea could be so close, and right when you thought it couldn’t get better than this, Cassian added a second finger and curled them inside you, hitting a spot so sensitive that you tumbled over.

A loud moan broke free as you came, squeezing his hand so tight that it probably hurt, but you couldn’t think about anything other than his mouth and fingers still moving, and the white-hot pleasure that washed over you.

Cassian’s ministrations slowed to a stop as you came down from your high. Panting, you watched him sit up straight and lick your release off his digits and chin.

“You taste delicious, you know that?”

You let out a breathy chuckle as he climbed up your body, holding himself up with his elbows on either side of your head. You stretched your neck to kiss him softly.

“Thank you, Cassian.” You ran your fingers through his hair. “That was… amazing.”

“I’m glad to hear it.” He peppered your face with kisses until you were giggling again. “And thank you for trusting me.”

Your hands traveled down his sculpted body to hover near his crotch. “What if I want it all?” you whispered, biting your lip in an attempt to hide a sheepish smile.

Cassian just pressed his mouth to yours one last time before moving off you and standing up to remove his pants.

“Then you shall receive,” he said as his underwear was dropped to the floor and his body was revealed to you in all its glory.

He looked like an ancient statue with all that muscle, and the wings, and the defined jawline. The hard cock—bigger than you had expected. Your eyes widened slightly at the sight, but Cassian only chuckled, eager to keep things going.

Once he was settled again between your legs, though, he paused. “I just need to ask one more time if you’re sure.”

Your gaze returned to his face, warmth blooming in your chest as you offered him the sweetest smile you could muster. “I’m sure. I want you, Cass.”

“I want you too.”

He leaned down to kiss you, and then he gently guided the head of his cock inside you.

It was hard—so astonishingly hard that you winced and shut your eyes. But Cassian went slowly, pushing in only a few inches at a time and pausing to let you adjust around him. He left tiny kisses all over your face—from your jaw to your temple, from your lips to your closed eyelids—and he kept murmuring tender words to soothe you through it all as his hands caressed your body.

Still, a part of you wanted to cry. But not at the painful burn that came with every thick inch of him, rather at the sweetness of it all. Of him. And when Cassian was finally fully seated inside of you and the discomfort gave way to a warm feeling deep in your stomach, you opened your eyes and smiled up at him.

“Are you okay?” he asked even as he smiled back, brushing some hair out of your face. “Did I hurt you?”

You shook your head. “No… no, it’s gone, I think. I’m alright. Can you try to move?”

Cassian obeyed, giving a tentative roll of his hips that had you both moaning. It stung a bit, but it diminished when he did it again, and by the fourth, careful thrust, there was only pleasure left.

“Gods, it feels… you feel incredible,” you breathed as he set a slow, steady pace.

Cassian chuckled. “And you feel perfect around me, sweetheart.”

It was everything you had dreamed it would be—and then some. You began to move with him, legs wrapped around his waist, hands exploring and holding on to each other. His lips never left yours unless it was to kiss or nip at your neck, and he picked up the rhythm as soon as you asked him. Pants and moans echoed in the room alongside the sound of his hips slamming into yours, but you particularly liked the groans that slipped past Cassian’s lips every time you clenched around him.

When his fingers found your clit again, you knew you wouldn’t last much longer.

“Cassian…” you whimpered. “I— I think I’m close…”

He pulled away from where he was kissing your throat and he retreated to his knees, your legs draped over his powerful thighs. With the new angle, you could feel him deeper inside you and it made your eyes roll back.

“Let go, sweetheart,” he purred, fingertips dancing faster over your sensitive clit. “Come around me.”

You shuddered then, crying out as you arched off the bed. If you thought coming on his tongue and finger was amazing, then you had no words to describe how it felt to come on his cock. You were writhing beneath him, legs shaking and walls squeezing him while he kept fucking you through it all, his own groans louder and louder.

Cassian waited for you to calm down and sink back on the mattress before thrusting a few more times and pulling out. You whined at the sudden absence, a complaint about to roll off your tongue until you saw him fist his own cock. You watched in silence as he pumped himself once, twice, and then a stream of his warm seed coated your stomach with the third stroke.

Breathing heavily, you stared at each other for a moment, just smiling and enjoying the lingering ecstasy of your orgasms.

You sat up on wobbly legs to face him better and pressed a soft kiss to his lips. “That was… life-changing.”

His laugh boomed in the now-silent room as he gathered you in his arms. “You don’t know how happy that makes me. No doubt the best compliment I have ever received.” He kissed your forehead, then stood up to walk to the bathroom, still cradling you to his muscular chest. “Now let’s go get you cleaned up, sweetheart.”

General taglist: @mrsjna @navyblue-eternity @paintedbyshadows @highladyandromeda @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @azrielsmate3 @mollygetssherlockcoffee @mirandasidefics @tinystarfishgalaxy @cynthiesjmxazrielslover @anarchiii @readinggeeklmao @anneas11 @azrielslittleslut @lilah-asteria @aaahhh0127 @lorosette @azrielsrealmate @pey2618 @mellowmusings

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[gokyrts]

your carlos fic was amazing... can you do a mafia au carlos?

hiii nonnie! thanks for putting in a request<3 there were many thoughts about mafia Carlos, so here’s my take on this AU 🤭 this contains both SFW and NSFW thoughts, the latter will be under the cut!!

wc: 1.2k

SFW

—Mafia boss!Carlos would be a tantalizing mix of calculated behavior deluded with kindness:

Being under the wing of a local mob had its perks even with the risks that came from inside the organization. A risk you realized you took accidentally when you walked in on a family meeting, the boss himself sitting at the head of the table. The voices died down, everyone was staring and you gulped. A shiver ran down your spine when Carlos stood up, silently walking around the table to you.

“W-What’s going on?” You squeaked out, but that was the wrong kind of question to ask.

“I cannot tell you, preciosa…” Carlos’ voice wrapped around you like the first gust of wind in late autumn — chilling amidst the warmth.

“If I tell you, I’d have to kill you… and I don’t want to do that.” And you saw the cold honesty in his eyes which, despite their depth, seemed hollow and loveless. Yet it juxtaposed the warmth of his voice in your ear, the sweetness of the petname he used for you…

You nodded meekly, understanding your place and feeling a strange sense of gratitude that he took mercy on you, despite your intrusion. Carlos tilted his head at your reaction, a hint of a smile on his lips. He brought his hand up to your cheek, caressing the soft skin with the back of his fingers.

“Good girl… now, back to your duties.” He ordered you like he would a servant and yet you found yourself happily obliging, scattering from where he held a meeting with the family.

His smile fell when you rounded the corner and he turned around to go back into the room you so unfortunately stumbled into.

—Mafia boss!Carlos would not tolerate his men disrespecting you:

No matter which position you held in the family, you were always respected… only on occasion, someone dared to do the opposite. A new young man joined the family not long ago, he noticed you around the estate and nearby bar the family owned. He made the unfortunate mistake of assuming you were a local escort. Before he was able to further dig his own grave, he caught a hand upside his head.

“Oi! Cabrón, this isn’t some whore you can chat up!” One of the capos scolded, trying to save the new guy’s ass before the boss would notice but Carlos was watching the entire exchange. He clicked his tongue, catching the attention of the rest of the men in the bar, and beckoned the new guy with his finger. He was already sweating and slowly approached the boss.

“Y-Yes, boss?”

“What is your name?” Carlos asked, his tone indifferent, yet the look in his eyes told everyone they were about to witness a lesson being taught. The young man in question told Carlos his name, to which Carlos repeated it, letting out a hum as if in thought before continuing.

“How would your mamá feel if she knew you were treating women this way?” The distaste for others seeing you as less than you were was clear in Carlos’ tone and you watched with interest as the guy stammered.

“S-She wouldn’t be happy, boss…”

Carlos nodded in acknowledgment before leaning forward.

“She would give you a worse beating than I ever would so I suggest you apologize to the señorita before I get your mother on the phone.”

In mere moments you had the new guy at your feet, apologising for his behavior and a promise he’d never dare assume who you were or any other woman for that matter. Carlos could only watch on with a smirk on his lips.

—Mafia boss!Carlos would make sure you have everything you need:

You want a new dress? Boom, it’s laid out on your bed. You like a particular piece of jewelry? Boom, it’s sitting in a pretty box for you to take. Anything and everything you wanted, the boss provided. A shopping spree? There are three bodyguards with you, carrying your bags, holding the doors open, driving you around. You really got the princess treatment from their leader. When you returned, Carlos would of course have you model it for him since he bought all of it, in some cases, the dresses had to be returned because his hands were too eager trying to take them off of you and he ripped them. Worry not, he made up for it.

NSFW 18+ under the cut

—Mafia boss!Carlos would have you at his beck and call:

You would know when he snapped his fingers, when his gaze intensified, that was your call, your call to drop to your knees and serve your boss. He loved how perfectly you fit under the table in his office, how easy it was to thrust into your mouth, watching you take every inch of him. He especially loved the look in your eyes when one of his men came in and Carlos didn’t stop, he held you there, nose buried in his pubic hair as you gagged, till he let you come up for a breath.

“That’s it, preciosa… you like it, huh? I can see you rubbing those thighs together…”

Your cheeks only reddened at his words, making him grin. He stretched his leg, sliding it between your thighs.

“Come on, be a good girl for me… get yourself off on my boot.”

Of course, you’d be licking the mess you made off the expensive leather of his boot later when he allowed you to cum.

—Mafia boss!Carlos would do his occasional inspections:

You nearly yelped when you felt someone step up behind you but the warmth of Carlos’ big hands on your waist soon put you at ease.

“Shhh, it’s just me…” He cooed, humored by your startled behavior. His hands traveled lower, hoisting up your skirt. You bit your lip, thighs trembling in anticipation as you realised Carlos’ curiosity got the best of him again.

“Mmm, I like this pair on you,” He praised, his thumbs digging into your lower back slightly, forcing your forward, making your ass stick out as he appreciated the sight of you in a particular set of panties. You gasped when he smacked your right cheek, your reaction earning you a warm chuckle from the Spaniard.

“Beautiful…” Carlos continued, his fingers hooking in the waistband and pulling it down. You obediently stepped out of them, your skirt falling back in place. The piece of clothing looked tiny in Carlos’ big hand and you could see him smirk as he noticed the patch of wetness on them. But it wouldn’t be Carlos if he didn’t do something to make you yearn more for him. He pocketed the underwear and you could feel your heart racing.

“I—” He didn’t let you finish the thought, putting a finger against your lips.

“Shhh, you can come earn them back later, hmm, how does that sound, preciosa?”

Carlos didn’t wait for an answer, he knew you would come so he just left, with your soaked panties in his pocket, letting you walk around bare underneath your skirt the whole day.

want more thoughts on mafia boss Carlos or do you have your own? lemme know in my askbox!! <3

2024 @ gokyrts . do not distribute or translate my work on other sites.

[jason-todd-rh]

Masterlist 12

It's been a while (4 years to be exact) since i have done a masterlist but I wanted to do one. Here is the link to the other ones. My organization for each post is random. Also some didn't have names so i just did a short name (sorry in advance). There isn't a specifc order to them and these are just some i liked from the last year-ish.

As a reminder, make sure to follow these blogs :)

Series "Birds of a Feather" (part 1) (part 2) by @zyhkoo "Guard Dog" (part 1) (part 2) by @mostly-imagines "Shower Surprise" (part 1) (part 2) (part 3) by @twilight-orchid "Learning to Love Slowly" by @to-the-stars8 (honestly one of my favorites 10/10 recommend)

Jealous/Protective Jason (love me this category) "Don't Tell Jason" by @siddyyyyyyyy "Who are your boyfriend" by @prongsx

Fluff "Moonstruck" by @mostly-imagines "Favors in exchange for kisses" by @prongsx "Scenes from an afternoon odyssey" by @mostly-imagines "MIA" by @indulgentdaydream "Hungry?" by @montagoves "How He Shows He Loves You" by @mistymisfit "Amnesia and Flustered Jason" by @sanguineterrain "Eat Your Heart Patrick Swayze" by @kitkatscabinet "Physical Touch" by @luv4jason "Bluetooth j.t" by @cipheress-to-k-pop "Falling Asleep for the 1st time" by @patchiko "Hiding Nightmares" by @stararch4ngelqueen "Perfect Match" by @msfantasy-comics "SFW Fluff Alphabet" by @kimberly-spirits13 "Late Night Bouquet" by @killxz "We Got Love" by @makethatelevenrings "For the hell of it" by @lambsouvlaki "As long as you're with me" by @maivolpe "Shelter in the Rain"

Angst/Angst-ish "Don't Go Disappearing on Me" by @rambling-at-midnight "So This is Love" by @mostly-imagines "Not hot enough" by @writeriguess "Kidnapped" by @sanguineterrain "Where Are You" by @millyhelp "Ghosts of Gotham" by @sexsylexi "Domestic Betrayal" by @yourlocalcringydaydreamer "The Arkham Knight" by @mostly-imagines "Never Let Me Go" by @froggibus "Misunderstandings" by @sanguineterrain "Broken Heart of Gold" by @jasntodds "Be with You" by @chaotic-birds "Text me when you get home" by @sanguineterrain "Puzzle Pieces" by @makethatelevenrings "O Me! O Life" by @makethatelevenrings

NSFW "Jason Birthday fic" by @spidernuggets "Trying to get s/o's attention" by @gay-dorito-dust "First Time" by @igotanidea "Doesn't Always Have to be So Black and White" by @hanasnx "Lazy Morning" by @k2ntoss "Soft" by @stararch4ngelqueen "Don't make me cover your mouth" by @patheticbabie "Shower's on" by @icameheretoreadstuff "For the Hell of it" by @lambsouvlaki "NSWF Alphabet" by @sunlight-wing

[slut4hee]

Slut4Hee 2025 WIPS

——————————————————

Nevertheless Series

{Paring: Toxic Lee Heeseung x Fem! Reader

{Genre: smut, fluff, angst, toxic relationships. This fic is inspired, by one of my favorite kdramas, called nevertheless. It’s about heartbreak, love, lust, and companionship. 18+ so (mdni).

{Synopsis: Lee Heeseung was like breath of fresh poisonous air to your healthy lungs. He was the fire that ignited your flame, the missing piece to your unfinished puzzle. Lee Heeseung, was also the one who destroyed you, the one who clipped your beautiful wings off your body, and shattered your whole innocent being. But still you remained attached to him, drawn in by his dark aura, and blinded by his charming and enchanting presence. You got it bad, but nevertheless…

{Warnings: explicit themes, alcohol consumption, smoking, rough sex, unprotected sex, big dick heeseung soft dom heeseung, sub reader, creampie, breeding kink, fingering, oral (m&f receiving), spanking, corruption, manipulation, love bombing jealousy, cheating (but not really cheating?), Heeseung is hella toxic and a jerk in the beginning, reader is very emotional and down bad for this man, Heeseung has a butterfly tattoo on the back of his neck, lmk if I missed anything!!!

꩜ .ᐟ Teaser

You held onto your chest, feeling your heart beating rapidly. You feel like the air has been stolen from out of your lungs, and you physically can’t breathe, the pain is so unbearable and excruciating.

You should have known sooner or later that you weren’t the only one, but still, your fucked up head told you otherwise. You watched as their lips moved sensually, his hands gripping her waist, and squeezing the fatty flesh.

Tears slowly start to steam down your face, and you can feel yourself going into a panic attack, as the girl lets out a quiet moan, as he sucks on the flesh of her neck. You start to hyperventilate, feeling yourself drifting into the void of darkness, your chest feels tight, your head is pounding and your legs feel weak.

Your body is frozen as you watch, his hands explore her body sinfully, and he whispers to her “you’re a beautiful butterfly” you feel sick to your stomach, as your heart pleads with you to tear it out. That’s what he always called you, his little butterfly, his muse. You can’t take it anymore, you need to get out of here, before you die of a broken heart.

A part of you wonders, if he was to find your lifeless body laying here, with a tear drop running down your cheek before it dries up, would he even care. Would he laugh at your pathetic self, or would he cry and beg for you to wake back up.

And that’s when it happens, your eyes locked with his, his facial expression is unreadable, but you know exactly what’s hidden behind those stone cold eyes of his. He smirks at you, before pulling away from the girl, telling her he’s had enough for tonight.

The girl tries everything in her power, to keep the session going, throwing herself shamelessly at him to spend the night with her. He declines her offer politely, kissing her forehead before he stepped away from her. Almost like the girl was hypnotized or in a trance, she nodded, before kissing him one last time goodbye and taking her leave.

Gaining control over your body, you hurried and hid yourself further into the staircase, watching as the smiling girl walked passed you. There’s a hickey clear as day on the right side of her neck, you can hear your heart shattering into pieces.

You peaked from the side of staircase, immediately making eye contact with Heeseung. It was almost like he spoke to you, without actually exchanging words, as you managed to pull yourself away from hiding and made your way over to him. You looked up at him with tears still in your eyes, your body trembling as you stare deep into his dark orbs.

He can see the hurt and pain radiating from your body, but it does nothing to affect him, instead he just smiles at you and wipe the tear that threatens to fall from your waterline. All you want to do is slap the fuck out of him, and tell how much of a fuckboy he is, but you don’t have it in you to even lay a finger on his beautiful face.

“She just wanted to see how it feels” he looked into your eyes, staring into your soul, as he ghosted his lips against yours. You held back a sob, as you turned away from him, stepping away and looking down at the ground. He slowly walked over to you, and hugged you from the back.

“I really wanted to try it with you, my muse” he hummed, turning your body back around to face him. You looked at him with an unreadable, expression falling into the trap of his alluring voice.

He tucked a piece of your hair behind your ear, before leaning down, and pulling you into a soft sensual kiss. You were so disgusted with yourself, for letting him kiss you, after his lips was just on another girl. Like a million butterflies erupting inside your stomach, you once again have given yourself willingly to Lee Heeseung.

“𝙉𝙤 𝙣𝙚𝙚𝙙 𝙩𝙤 𝙘𝙧𝙮 𝙢𝙮 𝙙𝙚𝙖𝙧 𝙗𝙪𝙩𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙛𝙡𝙮, 𝙖𝙛𝙩𝙚𝙧 𝙖𝙡𝙡, 𝙞𝙩’𝙨 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙢𝙮 𝙝𝙚𝙖𝙧𝙩 𝙩𝙧𝙪𝙡𝙮 𝙗𝙚𝙡𝙤𝙣𝙜𝙨 𝙩𝙤“....

—————————————————————————

Land Of The Riches

{Paring: Rich Top Student Kim Leehan x Scholarship Student Fem! Reader

{Genre: smut, college au, private school au, fluff, toxic relationship, fwb?? Rich kid things, 18+ so (mdni).

{Synopsis: Stepping into a world, you knew you didn’t belong to was something you really didn’t participate doing. The flashy earrings and watches accompanied by the students, and the all black luxury cars, pulling up in front of the school with chauffeurs present in the front seat of them. Truth is, you didn’t come from a rich background, in fact your parents could never afford to pay for you to go here out of pocket, but your high IQ and your excellent grades landed you a full on scholarship spot at New Winchester University. Fitting in was going to be a hell of a challenge, but it seems you are already making progress, since the star student Leehan has taken a liking to you.

{Warnings: explicit themes, rough sex, unprotected sex, multiple orgasms, oral (f&m receiving), fingering, squirting, face sitting, mutual masturbation, sexual acts in public (they fuck in the library, and Leehan fingers reader in class), dirty talk, pet names, bullying, manipulation, corruption kink, cheating, (no I don’t condone cheating so pls hush it’s all fictional love), Leehan is preppy cocky rich mf, alcohol consumption, smoking, lmk if I missed anything!!!

꩜ .ᐟ Teaser

“Fuuuck that’s it doll, suck that fucking cock like you mean it” Leehan grunted, his hand holding your head in place, while his other hand holds his phone up as he record you sucking him off. You don’t know how you managed to find yourself, in this situation with your head between Leehan’s legs, doing unholy things to him.

Wait in fact you do, it all started with him staring at you in class, studying you, and hypnotizing you with his enchanting and flirtatious aura. Not long after, the boy convinced you to skip class with him, asking you to have a smoke with him.

You made it clear to him you didn’t smoke, but he insisted you come with him, and that you could just accompany him. And that’s how you ended up here, with Leehan abusing your throat, with his long thick length.

“Holy shit princess, I knew you would be so good at this. Look at me baby” he groaned when your eyes locked with his and then the camera. Your eyes widened at the realization, that he was recording you. You pulled off his dick and covered your face quickly.

“W-why are you recording me, please turn it off” you stuttered out, feeling embarrassed and ashamed. He chucked lowly, grabbing your chin, and wiping some of the drool and his pre cum that drips on the side of your mouth.

“Oh C’mon baby girl, I swear I won’t show anyone, matter of fact, I pinky promise” he pouted cutely at you, caressing your chin lovingly as he manipulates you into giving him what he wants. Of course you ended up giving in. Not being able to resist his puppy dog face and menacing attics.

“Fine, just p-please don’t show anyone, please don’t” you pleaded with him, his eyes lit up and a smirk appeared on his handsome face. You felt your heart skip a beat at his stupid beautiful smile, easily falling into his trap. You grabbed his throbbing cock, pumping it a couple of times, before taking back inside your wet mouth.

“Oooh my fucking goddd, damnit that feels so good slut” he whined, bucking his hips up, causing you to gag around his dick. He groaned deeply, pushing your head roughly as he fucked into your mouth desperately. He stuggled to keep ahold of his phone, his legs trembling and shaking as he chased his high.

“F-fuck Y/n, I’m so close, you gonna be a good little whore and let me cum in your mouth right?” He cooed as he caressed your cheek lovingly. You clenched around nothing, your thighs rubbing together, as your panties became sticky with your leaking arousal Leehan noticed that and chuckled lowly.

Suddenly his phone ringed, pausing the recording, he groaned in frustration and rolled his eyes as he went to answer it. You panicked, about to pull away but he glared at you, giving you stern look as he shock his head no at you. Your eyes widened at the realization that he wants you to keep sucking him while he talks on the phone.

“Hey baby what’s up” he answered, rolling his yes at the loud girl over the phone. Your felt a churn in your stomach, at the fact that he’s talking on the phone with who you believe to be Yu Karina, aka his 𝙂𝙄𝙍𝙇𝙁𝙍𝙄𝙀𝙉𝘿!!!

You hear the girl on the other end, pouting and acting babyish, as she complains to Leehan for being late to their ice cream date. Some sick part of you, enjoys the fact that Karina is waiting for Leehan to show up to their date, meanwhile you’re sucking the life out of him. Truth is Karina has bullied you since day one, calling you an outsider, poor, and a pathetic nerd.

Your lips turned into a smirk, at the thought of Karina, finding out her so called perfect little boyfriend is currently getting mind blowing head from this so called nerd.

“I’m sorry baby girl, I had some important things to deal with, I’ll be there soon” he said in a sweet and apologetic tone, you couldn’t help but roll your eyes at his false claims, which didn’t go unnoticed by Leehan, him thrusting his length deeper inside your throat causing you to gag.

You heard Karina on the other line, asking him if he’s okay and what was that sound. He quickly comes up with a bullshit lie, saying that he drank something nasty and spat it out.

You decided to test the waters, sucking on his cock a little faster, and fondling his heavy balls. Leehan threw his head back, choking back a deep moan before harshly biting his bottom lip to conceal his sounds.

“S-sweetheart, I have to call you back, I’m in the middle of something” he stuttered, his composure dropping slowly, as he tried his hardest not to shoot his load deep inside your throat. He quickly hung up the phone, before grabbing your head roughly, and pushing it all the way down before fucking aggressively into your mouth.

“You fucking slut, you almost got me fucking caught. You’re that damn desperate for my cock that you have to show the fuck out” he spat angrily at you, but a shit eating grin was plastered across his face. You whimpered, and gagged around his dick, as tapped and scratched on his thighs for him to slow down.

“What’s wrong darling, can’t breathe because you have a mouth full of cock” he chuckled menacingly at you, before yanking your blouse open, some of the buttons flying across the bathroom stall.

“𝙔𝙤𝙪 𝙜𝙤𝙣𝙣𝙖 𝙨𝙞𝙩 𝙝𝙚𝙧𝙚, 𝙡𝙞𝙠𝙚 𝙖𝙣 𝙤𝙗𝙚𝙙𝙞𝙚𝙣𝙩 𝙡𝙞𝙩𝙩𝙡𝙚 𝙬𝙝𝙤𝙧𝙚, 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙩𝙖𝙠𝙚 𝙢𝙮 𝙛𝙪𝙘𝙠𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙡𝙤𝙖𝙙 𝙙𝙤𝙬𝙣 𝙮𝙤𝙪𝙧 𝙩𝙝𝙧𝙤𝙖𝙩. 𝘼𝙣𝙙 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙗𝙚𝙩𝙩𝙚𝙧 𝙣𝙤𝙩 𝙬𝙖𝙨𝙩𝙚 𝙖 𝙨𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙡𝙚 𝙙𝙧𝙤𝙥”....

A/n: Yup that’s right, slut4hee is making her return back to tumblr world🤭 these are some projects yall can look forward starting next year. As I stated before I am a very slow writer and I’m a very busy person, I work full time and go to school🙂‍↕️ but teehee I’m so excited to release these works next year, especially the Leehan one bc wtff I’m so down bad for dom Leehan like pussy is soaked rn do you hear me?! But please please look forward to these some time next year pookies mwah luv u all🫶🏽🩷 not proofreading shit😭

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Taglist:

@i03jae @ataver @ancnymcnzjy @jooniesbears-blog

[hanafubukki]

Waking up before your husband was always a treat.

This time only between you two and no one else.

He was known for his golden locks. Charming and bright against the silver of his armor.

What you thought most beautiful of all?

The smile from one recently waken from slumber. Eyes a soft blue bright in a pool of pink, speaking of how relaxed he was of this moment.

He stares at you as if you adorned the sun in the bright sky.

How you wish that was so. If then, could you give him the freedom he so rightly deserves. Let him spread his wings far and wide to soar the sky.

“May I touch you?”

“You needn’t ask.“

But you did ask. You always will.

He was somone chained to duty and crown. Someone whose wings clipped.

You would always ask him. Give him this freedom of choice.

He knew. He would take your hand every time. Calloused from training but treating yours as fine jewels. Placing it over his heart.

Yours. Yours. Yours.

While his body might not belong to him, his soul will always belong to you.

“My light, what are you thinking of?”

You lean into the hand that cups your cheek before taking it in yours, lips grazing across scars and hardened skin.

“How much I adore you.”

A shuddering breath.

Hands pulling you close.

Kisses filled with smiles exchanged.

Was feeling soft for The Knight of Dawn and decided to finish this fic that I started months ago. ☺️💞💞 I’m quite happy how it turned out 🫶🫶 even though that middle section came and hit me out of nowhere lol.

This was inspired by this art piece of the Knight of Dawn from months ago. (Careful, it’s nsfwish; he’s naked waist up but he’s so beautiful 🥰🥰)

Story Notes: the reason why I said Dawn’s eyes are “bright blue in a pool of pink” is not only because he has aurora colored eyes like Silver, but also because when Silver is determined or fierce, you can see his eyes become more pink highlighted. So the soft blue eyes is a tell to show how relaxed and comforted Dawn is. 💚💕

[perseephoneee]

okie dokie does a Dean Winchester x reader fic work? Had an idea way back in s1 when jess first dies, (older sister, who kinda takes sam under her wing) reader ended up meeting dean through sam. They had similar personalities but (reader) was more of a hopeless romantic than Dean. Sam on the other hand could totally see them together but Dean always denied it.

“Stop eyeing her like she's a piece of steak, you creep” “The hell? I do not do that, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

so they left ca and travelled and maybe in s2-3 (doesnt have to be accurate) they end up back in ca because of a case or cause reader called sam for help. (not expecting dean to show up as well) and after shes not in danger, turns out they get along really well.

"Im not an arm rest, dean." "Mhm, then why are you so short?" "I'M 5'3 THATS NORMAL"

and just fluff..? idk man let me know if its not what you want to write, i can totally change it💜

not a steak (dean winchester x f!reader)

↳ masterlist  ↳ ship exchange ↳ taglist ↳ 1k celebration

wow remember when i could actually write things in a timely manner? yeah, me neither. i miss those days (that never existed). whomp whomp.

You don't necessarily remember the exact moment that you met Sam. He's been a constant in your life since you were his TA as an undergraduate, watching this freakishly tall freshman so eager to succeed in your class. He made your heart soft, and he made you feel protective. Even though he was so much bigger than you, a naivety in his persona made you take extra time to ensure he succeeded. He ended up getting an A in the class.

You do remember when you met Dean, however. You had heard stories of Dean from Sam the few times you'd catch lunch outside of school. By this point, you were a grad student, filling the void of the older sibling that Sam unconsciously needed filled. You never pried for too many details, and that's how you got people to shut up really fast. But you did meet Dean right as he left town to look for his Dad. Dean was coarse and dismissive of you as if you were just another roadblock stopping him from taking his brother. When you finally got his attention, it was just to size you up before wordlessly climbing into his car. Sam seemed apologetic, but mostly, you were just worried. You had every right to be. Jessica died a week later.

The thing about you is that you can't let a dead dog lie. Where's the fun in that? You'd much rather figure out ways to raise them.

Sam was brilliant, but he let enough details slip to allow you to research him. And you were a law graduate student; you knew a thing or two about studying. Random newspaper clippings, shoutouts of various names, and blog posts allowed you to figure out the supernatural aspect of his life that he had kept from you. You should've been more surprised, but you were more excited than anything. There was more out there. What a strangely relieving thought.  

This knowledge proved helpful when you realized you had a poltergeist.

The new place you moved into was charming and Victorian, the dream of everyone with a Pinterest board. It was in fairly decent shape, and with your roommates, you guys thought you could polish it up to something livable during your suffering years of graduate school. Unfortunately, the price was too good to be true, which led to the unfortunate circumstance of hauntings culminating in one of your roommates in the hospital, barely alive. You called Sam that night.

"Hey Sam, it's me…" you trailed off at that, feet tucked under you as the machines' beeping cut through the silence. "I need your help."

The next day, he was at your door, enveloping you in a hug. He smelled exactly the same, and you didn't realize how much you missed him. Dean was with him.

"I'm Dean," he nodded, holding out a hand. You raised a brow.

"We've met."

"I would've remembered someone who looks like you," Dean scoffs, an easy smirk on his lips that probably made many women swoon. You just rolled your eyes, going back into your house and hoping Sam followed.

A week later, the boys were still here. This ghost was frustrating, and it was more the principle of it that was pissing you off more than anything. You let the brothers stay at the house since it was safer in numbers and cheaper. Plus, your roommates took a wide berth of the place before returning. A routine developed in the short time they were here. You cooked breakfast, Sam made coffee, and Dean woke up at some point. You and Sam would enjoy the paper before something happened (usually related to the crossword that Dean was totally not interested in), and you ended up bickering with the older Winchester until Sam got fed up with it and shut it down.

"Stop eyeing her like she's a piece of steak," Sam muttered to Dean when you weren't around, having stormed off to some other corner of the house. Dean almost spit out his coffee.

"The hell? I do not do that. I have no clue what you're talking about."

Sam just nodded, hiding a smirk behind his book as Dean grumbled about not checking you out.

For the first time that week, Sam was out that night. He was following "a lead." What that lead was, no one knew, but it meant you were alone. With Dean. In a house. Without supervision.

You grumbled something about making dinner. Dean followed you.

"Are you lost?" you asked, hands on your hips as Dean plopped himself at the counter.

"I'm following the food."

"Of course you are."

"Please, no more rabbit food," Dean groaned. "I can't take it anymore."

"Oh no, definitely not," you smirked, pulling out some steaks from the fridge you had been saving. Dean's eyes immediately lit up. "You're helping me cook these. I'm not letting your dumb ass sit around while I prepare a meal."

"You're bossy," Dean grumbles but doesn't complain further as he removes his flannel and sets it on the chair. You ignore that he looks really good in a t-shirt and return to grabbing ingredients. To his credit, Dean is good at letting you tell him what to do and following through. He is definitely a better chef than Sam, who has burned many things in your kitchen. Dean is an excellent sous chef. You tell him as such.

"The hell? I am not a sous," he says while furiously stirring butter.

"It's a compliment, you knobhead."

"Knobhead? What 1950s show are you living in?"

This conversation went back and forth for a while. But you finished cooking a meal, which is always considered a success in your book. Dean devoured him almost immediately before you could even finish cutting through it. Then, it was just you attempting to finish your meal in peace. This was difficult, as Dean continuously kept eyeing your food, hoping you might give it to him, and then would complain outwardly when you didn't.

"You're not going to finish it," he drank his beer, once again looking at your dinner. You glared.

"I can finish it."

"A girl like you doesn't finish an entire steak."

That comment pissed you off. You finished your steak in two bites, shocking Dean, and then proceeded to grab his glass of beer and down it in one gulp. You slammed the glass down, raising a brow. "You have no clue what type of girl I am."

You grabbed both your plates and made your way to the kitchen, putting them in the sink and starting to clean the dishes. You barely made it through a plate before Dean pushed you out of the way.

"Dean—"

"I'm not questioning your ability, but in my world, the one who doesn't cook cleans. So, sit your ass down," Dean said before you could chew him out. You bit the inside of your cheek and sat down, still glaring at him as he washed each dish meticulously and put them either in the dishwasher or on the drying rack. When he was done, he threw the dishtowel over his shoulder. The domesticity made you soften. "I'm sorry for earlier."

You blinked, not really expecting any sort of apology from Dean Winchester. You did expect that you would not get anything besides those words.

"I don't understand women."

You laughed at that, leaning on your hand with your elbow on the table. "Aren't you a self-proclaimed ladies' man?"

"I know how to sleep with women, but I don't get what goes through your heads," Dean leaned against the counter, arms crossed. "You want one thing and then a different thing, and I can't keep up."

"So, you're admitting you're slow." Dean threw the towel at you. "Women aren't that complicated; men are just bad listeners. You included."

"I can listen."

"Really? What was I frusterated about at dinner?" you challenged, getting off your seat and leaning over the counter. He blinked a few times.

"That I kept asking for your steak?"

"No, that you presumed that as a woman, I couldn't finish a steak."

"Well, that's not what I said," Dean replied, getting defensive. You just rolled your eyes, grabbing the wine bottle on the counter.

"Oh, also, insight into women; they lie about how good men actually are in the bedroom," you winked, leaving the room and taking the wine with you. You could almost hear Dean's jaw drop.

"It ain't a lie, princess," he intercepted you, his stupid legs moving much faster than yours. You frowned but didn't say anything. Dean took a breath, locking eyes with you. "Why do you insist on always pushing my buttons?"

"Because it's fun? Because you're both annoying and easy to annoy?" you shrugged, clutching your wine bottle to your chest. You didn't know why you picked on him, besides the fact he could be an absolute ASS sometimes that needed kicking. No, you suppose it goes back to early schoolyard days where instead of 'flirting,' you'd push the person and maybe claim to the entire class that they had cooties. To this day, you still had no idea what cooties exactly were, just that you never wanted to catch them.

"I think you like me," Dean smirked. He had crowded you against the wall leading to the living room. Your wine was an innocent bystander clutched to your chest. Maybe not as tall as Sam, but you still had to look up to see him. "I'm gonna prove it."

"Excuse me?" you breathed any sort of bite to your words caught in your throat as he reached up to your face and stroked your cheek. His hands found purchase holding your neck, tilting your face even higher and infinitely closer. Dean took the wine bottle out of your hands, your last line of defense, and stepped away for a second to put it back on the counter. His hands found your face again.

"Hey princess," he whispered, voice sultry. "Breathe." You couldn't do such a thing even if you wanted to because his lips were on yours, and he tasted like the draft beer in your fridge and apple pie. He was gentle, too gentle, and you wanted more. Your hands, first unsure of what to do, grabbed his shirt and pulled him closer. One of his hands moved to your waist, thumb brushing the exposed skin where your shirt rode up. He was everywhere all at once, masculinity encapsulated, and you were drowning in it. He pulled away, letting you breathe, the command you forgot to follow. "I wanted to do that since I saw you."

"Bullshit."

"Honest to god— well, not god, but honest— but then you had to go and be increasingly difficult," Dean scoffed, still holding on to you.

"You don't even remember the first time we met."

"Of course I do; it was a week after my Dad disappeared," Dean responded. "You were wearing pajamas and had a raincoat wrapped around you as you asked Sam not to go so that you could figure it out together. I was curt, and you looked like you wanted to call me a thousand horrible names, but you let it go as we drove away."

You smiled a little at that. "You do remember."

"What can I say? I like pushing your buttons."

You smacked him on the chest, earning a laugh as you fought off your smile. You did finally get your wine and let Dean choose something to watch. About halfway through your movie (and three glasses of pinot noir in), you got distracted by a makeout session that would've made your teenage self swoon, but it didn't progress more than that. Neither of you wanted to go too fast. Most of the time, it was just light conversation, cuddling, and the realization that maybe you two were much more alike than you thought.

Both of you fell asleep like that on the couch, blissfully unaware of the morning light. Sam came home early in the morning, dropping his bags before seeing the both of you entwined on the couch. A smile crossed his face.

"Finally."

taglist: @lover-of-books-and-tea @qardasngan @evasmlp

[dreamlandbarnes]

f1 fic recs

a compilation of all the fics i've been reading in the f1 rpf tag on ao3! please leave comments and kudos for the authors, and check the tags before reading. sorted by pairing, and summary and word count are provided. none of these fics are mine.

if your fic is on here and you want it removed, please let me know!

charles leclerc / max verstappen

bloodsport by 140445 | 37,711 words | M

“I don’t care about then, you are here now,” Charles says. “You are on my side now.” Max is on his side. It’ll feel like that, too, at some point. Surely. Or: Max and Charles as teammates for the 24 hours of Le Mans.

such murderous and vengeful desire by foggystars | 20,676 words | E

Where Carlos’ girlfriend has her fingers crossed, keeps covering her eyes as if she can’t bear to watch, Max is focused, mouth set in a hard line. He’s leaning in, balancing on the edge of his seat. To anybody else he looks intent, focused on the screen. To Charles, he looks like a bird, poised to take wing. Like he’s about to fly right through the screen and take the steering wheel from Charles’ clumsy hands, get in there and drive the car himself. When Max Verstappen suffers a career ending injury, he pours all his effort into turning his old rival, Charles Leclerc, into a worthy champion. Five years and two world championships later, they finally decide to talk about it.

like in love with me by linearity | 7,800 words | T

Austria 2019, a two-person house party, Abu Dhabi 2021, a silly lover’s quarrel, and a stove-side morning proposal.

Anonym by additiv | 13,971 words | E

The truth is, Max finds Charles unbelievably annoying. He’s chaotic and unpredictable. He’s staring at Max across the room one moment, and in the next, seems to have forgotten he exists. He swaps clothes with people at random, whipping off his faded Gucci t-shirt in the middle of the dance floor, to trade it for some girl’s crop top, laughing and crowding close to block the view of her body while they make the exchange. When he disappears to the bathroom, Max never knows whether he’ll reappear with glitter on his eyelids, or white powder on his nose. He flirts with every person in the room, and probably sleeps with them too. He ignores Max completely, then goes home with him. He’s always gone when Max wakes up; nothing left behind, nothing missing. He refuses to stay the night, but refuses to let Max get over him. And, he refuses to let Max know anything about him.

when you cut me open by triangularity (linearity) | 44,900 words | E

Well, Charles concedes, miserably. He did die last night. A few days staying with his vampire ex-boyfriend probably isn’t the worst thing he’ll have gone through in January.

a life in your shape by weiwuxian (BreathOfDream) | 29,431 words | E

“Oh god, not you,” Charles groans, crossing his arms on his chest. The Batman visibly rolls his eyes (blue, of course, because all men that messed with Charles’ life had that in common apparently) at his reaction, but another look at Charles makes him step closer. “Yes, always a pleasure. Are you ok?” or: 5 times both Max and the Batman makes Charles' life a lot more complicated than needed + 1 time he doesn't

Frecheit by additiv | 208,723 words | E

The first time that Max heard the name Charles Leclerc was in 2022, just after winning his first WDC. Maybe it only stuck because he heard it twice in one night; first as Leclerc was announced as the 2022 F3 champion. Second, as Helmut lamented not signing him to the Red Bull driver development program. Now, Max is ready to put the newly-promoted Ferrari driver in his place. The problem is, Leclerc seems to think his place is on the top step of the podium. And he is not playing by the rules. An age-difference fic, where they never got to work out their differences as kids. 3-time WDC Max's experience of being personally victimised by baby-Charles.

in dream by 140445 | 81,025 words | E

Charles tried to figure out the dream on his own. In the morning he sat down with a cup of coffee, trying to make sense of what he had seen—he even googled it. Surely, Charles couldn't be the first or only person to dream about someone he shouldn't. But there were no search results for my professional rival is suddenly also my soulmate or soulmate dream of someone i'm not supposed to want???.  (In a world where soulmates identified each other by sharing a dream, Charles dreamt of the last person he expected.)

heart of the wind by pipitass | 13,830 words | M

There’s a slip of paper taped next to one of the doorbells — third floor, second door. It should, in theory, be the one directly across from his own. Max V. “Yes?” “Uh— hi.” He clears his throat. “It’s your neighbor. From across the street. Your, your clothes…” He doesn’t really know what to say after that. Hi, I got into a street fight with your bedsheets yesterday. Welcome to the neighborhood.

charles_leclerc ✔️ posted: 😘 by ninetqs | 11,500 words | M

Charles posts a photo with a mystery man and casually breaks the Internet in the process.

cameras in the traffic lights by c_e_1 | 9,958 words | M

Pop Crave @PopCrave • Aug 13 2023 Popstar Charles Leclerc has put his instagram on private after fans spotted Formula 1 driver Max Verstappen in the background of his vacation photos 303 comments | 1.6K retweets | 10K likes

(don't read) the last page by mintchocolatechip97 | 7,475 words | E

Max feels a light tap on his arm, and turns to see the beautiful door-opener, chestnut brown curls fluffed up on his head like he’s been running his hands through his hair. “I have been on a set a time or two,” the man says, trying and failing to wink, “but this is my first time in a writers room, so you are not the only rookie here.” He clearly speaks English fluently, but has a smidge of a European accent, which Max thinks might be French. “I’m sorry,” Max says, a little annoyed that this stranger is speaking to him as if they know each other, “I didn’t catch your name?” Several emotions flit over the man’s face, in such quick succession that Max can’t quite catch them all. In the end, he looks mortified. “Oh, I am so sorry,” he says, “This is going to sound terrible, like I am the worst kind of person, but I thought you would know who I was.” Dr. Max Verstappen gets hired as the expert medical consultant for a new Netflix show. Charles Leclerc, former teen heartthrob, stars.

all i know of love is hunger by 140445 | 28,509 words | E

Anger flares in Charles’ chest. Not the kind that he feels in the car, when he’s on Max’s tail, when they are braking late and later. The one that’s been looming over his head ever since Max announced his retirement. The one he hasn’t been able to tame until now, until he can give it a name. Betrayal.

hollywood and highland by japrufrocks | 26,730 words | E

Max had left New York a week before Charles had, seven days exactly. Max had gone to Hollywood; Charles had gone to a hospital. Now they're starring in the same film. Hollywood gives its darlings everything. It takes everything too.

straight lines (that unwind you) by 140445 | 16,330 words | E

“Do you know him?” Arthur asks. “No,” Charles decides. Because he does not. He knows Max is a mathematics major, and that he plays chess. And that he hits the gym. And what he looks like when he comes. Details.

all to play for by linearity | 49,300 words | E

Charles Leclerc is not at Red Bull to win races. He is here to win championships.

my thoughts will echo your name by witchee_writer | 38,826 words | M

“Do you think you’ll ever want to do Le Mans one day?” asked Max, glancing sideways at the man sitting next to him. Charles’ eyes lit up, a grin spreading across his face. “I think I want to win Le Mans one day.”

heart on your sleeve by nyoomfruits | 4,812 words | T

The thing about having a racing helmet that constantly displays your emotions for the whole world to see, is that you kind of get used to it after a while. These days Charles almost forgets it’s even a thing. Almost. But then he goes and falls in love.

ghost of you by nyoomfruits | 3,436 words | T

“All right, are you now finally ready to explain why four time world driver champion Charles Leclerc is currently in my living room?” Max says, as Charles towels off his hair. Charles pauses, lets the towel fall into his lap, stares at Max with wide eyes. “I’m sorry, did you say four time?”

The HR Situation by thearchercore | 3,027 words | Gen

Jacob found out many things during his first month in the new HR role - Mary and Connor from Aero Engineering were dating. Thomas and Nick from Comms got recently divorced and it's a sensitive subject. Eddie from Legal had to go to an Anger Management class but hasn't had any issues since his return. Oh, and also - Max Verstappen and Charles Leclerc were fucking weird about each other. or: Charles and Max go to Mercedes and the HR Department is in shambles.

Sawtooth by nottonyharrison | 40,305 words | E

In another universe, Max rejected karting at the age of fifteen, no longer prepared to be a proxy for his father’s dream. He moved back to Belgium to live with his mum and sister, excelled at school, and eventually went on to complete a Masters of Mechanical Engineering. Now 27, after four years working for Alfa Romeo and Sauber, first as a junior performance engineer and then on the pit wall for Zhou Guanyu, he’s put forward for a job with Ferrari when Carlos Sainz is left without a race engineer thanks to the increasingly hectic F1 schedule. The problem is, Max has a crush on Carlos’ teammate. A huge, obvious, embarrassing crush that leaves him stumbling for words, face burning every time he’s within six feet of the guy. What makes it even worse is that sometimes he’s sure that Charles is looking right back.

leminiscate by weiwuxian (BreathofDream) | 27,799 words | E

Charles tries to imagine Max, on the opposite side of the kitchen. Eating bread too, like he did that first morning of the After—gross and charming. Tries to think about the way he would hold him, maybe. Of the softness of his lips, glossed by butter; and how he would laugh and push him away. His phone dings and he blinks himself awake once again.

achilles comes down by sincerelylancelot | 21,068 words | M

The World Championship trophy rests in his trembling hands, his name etched in fine gold. It isn't until he's staring down at it—his name nestled close to Max’s—that he realises his dreams have always been carved out of someone else’s pain. Jules. Max. And now, maybe even himself.

charles leclerc / carlos sainz jr

a bad recompense for your love by steviethenarwhal | 65,162 words | M

“I do not want to date you,” Charles says. Carlos’s eyes slide warily over to him. He tries to explain. “I do not date men. It would be… not smart.” “I don’t want to date you either,” Carlos says. “I do not date racecar drivers.”

translation theory by linearity | 9,500 words | E

Charles Leclerc, Ferrari’s golden boy, their Il Predestinato. He likes it up the ass and likes getting fucked by rockstars who have more tattoos than thoughts in their brains. What a fucking joke.

semiotic study by linearity | 8,600 words | E

Carlos knows. He knows what this is and what this is not. This is not romance, this is not love, but Charles makes it so easy to slip into that illusion. Charles makes it so hard, and Carlos cannot be without.

last night by venerat | 24,259 words | E

Rule #1: When you go to America, don't lose your virginity to your best friend's roommate. Charles fails Rule #1.

Good Boy by chiliconcarlos | 8,445 words | E

Really, it’s all Alex’s fault. ~~ Or: the one where Charles and Carlos want to settle the question of who's better in bed.

at the dinner table with god and my father by Cloudcollector | 4,599 words | M

There is a table in his house that knows more about him than his father. Or, Carlos and his father. And the family dinner table through the years.

win or lose (it's how you play the game) by chiliconcarlos | 18,321 words | E

It all starts because of a stupid bet.   Or: Carlos suggests a hickey bet for their '23 season, and it goes about how you'd expect.

darling by magnificentbirb | words | T

The pet names begin as a joke.

carlos sainz jr / oscar piastri

take it or leave it by venerat | 6,771 words | E

r/relationships: My (22M) coworker (29M) keeps irritating me at work

he just turned in like i didn't exist by linearity | 36,500 words | E

Oscar doesn’t have a problem with his soulmate. It’s his soulmate who has the fucking problem.

Happy Death Race by powerfulowl (playmyace) | 28,390k words | E

Carlos gazes up at the fake blue sky. Dopey grin, contrapposto pose, head as empty as the cottony clouds above. “Look, look. Look, Piastri. It is always daylight.” Oscar imagines pushing him into the piss water canal. "Yeah, cool. Stop dying!" (Oscar is in a time loop and Carlos won't stop dying.)

when both our cars collide by buildyourfences | 8,483 words | M

It’s race day, which means his phone shouldn’t be ringing. And yet, it is. “Carlos, why are you not at the track yet? We are waiting for you.” “But–” “I sent you the updated schedule last night, please get here as soon as possible.” The call ends. He blinks down at the phone in his hand. Friday, March 1. Well, that’s not right. Carlos is trapped in a time loop. He can't stop crashing with Oscar.

at a constant speed by wisteriagoesvroom (bobaheadshark) | 11,676 words | E

“Are you close?” Oscar asks. “What does it look like?” “I wasn’t expecting it to be, uh, so…” What? Oscar wants to add. Hot? Desperate? Pathetic? All of the above? --- Or, carcar get themselves into a situationship, and it just keeps situating.

left a calling card so they would know that it was me by xxxdeerlordxxx | 6,139 words | E

Carlos continues to sit there, in the cockpit with his back to the wall, pieces of the torn advertisements raining down on him. He can see a big screen from where he’s at, the replays they show over and over, of Carlos spinning out, of Oscar driving away from the incident like nothing happened. Because of course no one believes him. But Carlos knows that Oscar’s to blame. Just not in the way people might think.

hatred cradles you by foggystars | 6,829 words | E

“You see?” Carlos asks, hanging up the phone. “He does not pick up.” Oscar shrugs, unsure why Carlos seems to think this is his problem. Just because Oscar’s his teammate doesn’t mean he knows where Lando is at all times, like some sort of twink-seeking missile. Then Carlos says, “I wait for him in here,” and nods to himself. He’s walking into Oscar’s hotel room before he can stop him, and all Oscar can do is blink stupidly at the empty stretch of hallway where Carlos once stood.

in midnight’s jaws by Springsteen | 30,806 words | E

Werewolves are fiction, the stuff of books and movies just like witches and zombies. Men do not turn into wolves, or fly on broomsticks, or raise the dead. There must be a logical explanation for the restlessness in Carlos's blood, for the waves of pain so sudden and intense it feels as though his bones are trying to break free of his body. Surely there is a perfectly good reason for Carlos to have woken in the dirt the morning after a full moon, with no idea where he is or how he got there. And surely there was a reason he turned to Oscar Piastri, of all people, for help.

pulling teeth by arboretics | 9,030 words | Not Rated

Oscar is very private, very in control. Carlos pretends he is both of those things, too. But after a late night collision in Baku 2024, things spiral between them into something straddling a game and an uncomfortable intimacy. A year on, Oscar and Lando are battling for the championship, Carlos is fighting for low points finishes, and Oscar loses his grip on the whole situation.

the better half of a good time by antimonyandthyme | 4,413 words | E

“Most guys, they look at the date.” He manages to make it sound both admiring and chiding. Oscar is very quickly losing control of this conversation. “Do you make a habit of just giving your license out? To every stranger you meet?” “Only those I really like.”

reckless attention by crescenteluce | 4,290 words | E

It’s probably on Oscar to be the bigger person here, to tell Carlos if he can’t do it sober, he shouldn’t be doing it at all. But that’s the thing about Carlos – he doesn’t exactly inspire Oscar to be the best version of himself.

george russell / max verstappen

winning mentality by linearity | 18,500 words | E

It’s not, like, a thing. It’s only happened twice, if you don’t count the time during the pre-season when Max shoved a thigh against George’s crotch, and George, touched-deprived and broken-hearted, let out a sharp gasp and came instantly. Max, looking shocked and frightened, stormed away.

cut your teeth by 140445 | 9,224 words | E

And that is the thing that brought George here. Eat or be eaten. It’ll happen either way. Maybe here, he will like the taste.

full throttle by calenmirel | 3,397 words | E

Later, Max will turn to him, meeting his gaze head on, and ask if George truly hadn’t seen him in his mirrors at turn eight, like George had claimed. He'll rub his hands on his racesuit as he says it, like he'll be rid of the phantom feeling of George's hair from between his fingers if he wipes them hard enough. George will look back at him, licking the taste of Max from the back of his teeth like he can savour it, and will reply, “of course I didn’t,” lying through his smile.

alexander albon / george russell

a feeling all brand new by ginnydear | 16,481 words | M

Alex is halfway through his sandwich when he starts to feel talkative, so he takes a sip of his tea and waits for Logan to finish chewing before he says what’s running through his mind at full speed. “I think I’m homophobic.”

nothing but teeth by crescenteluce | 25,057 words | E

“Oh, come on.” Alex says, poking George in the thigh again with his foot. “Don’t tell me you’ve never done a little-” Alex makes a complicated hand-wavy gesture that has the contents of his glass nearly sloshing over the sides. “At your fancy boy schools, a little stiff upper-lipped make-out amongst the chaps? In between rounds of cricket and fox hunting?”

carlos sainz jr / max verstappen

ease the madness by magnificentbirb | 12,231 words | M

Max signed away his soul on his sixteenth birthday.

pierre gasly / charles leclerc

a long time (maybe forever) by strongestavenger | 10,021 words | T

AITA: homophobic but only to my roommate/best friend? First of all, I swear I have never been a discriminatory person – I have lots of gay friends and my little brother is bisexual. I know that sounds stupid as hell but it’s my only defense right now. My problem is that I (Marc, 26M, straight) have a roommate (Jacques, 28M, gay), who has also been my best friend since we were kids, and I think I’ve started to feel homophobic towards him? (or: Charles needs some outside help to figure things out.)

miscellaneous / general / multi

One thousand laps of jeddah by in_in_in_in_in_in_in | 68,585 words | Gen

George feels sick for the whole ride to the track. He has no idea how he got from breakfast to the car, let alone how he shook off Alex. He knows that he said ‘for god’s sake, Alex, I’m not on drugs’ about a hundred times, even though he’s not at all sure that it’s the truth. What else could have happened to him? Did he dream the race last night?

eat them alive by linearity | 57,000 words | E

Oscar lost Lando a championship and left McLaren. There was still a year in between.

the condominium community committee by jusst_you_wait | 36,452 words | T

the condominium community - 2:36pm Oscar and Logan have been added to the chat George Hello, welcome to a group chat we have for the Formula apartment building! There are only 18 (20 now) of us so we like to keep in contact about the building maintenance and other neighbourly orders of business. I’m George, and I liaise with the building manager on behalf of all of us when there is a building specific issue rather than an apartment issue. Welcome to the building! Lando do u copy and paste that from ur notes every time Alex I bet he has it memorised ~ or, the ridiculous chat fic where the f1 grid all live in the same apartment building

temperature get to you by minieggs11 | 9,339 words | E

It’s Logan’s last ride of the night, it’s clearly two drunk tourists going back to their hotel. As long as they give him a five star rating, he doesn’t care what happens.

sugar and spice by pipitass | 10,785 words | E

“Do you know already? Who you’ll pick?” Oscar frowns. Eyes still closed, scrunched now. Sharp brows downturned, meeting in the middle of his face. “When you win.” The frown deepens for a second. Then his face releases, and he shrugs. Shuffles as he goes to lay down, kicking his shoes off before he brings them up so his toes are poking at Max’s thigh, settling in. “Someone nice.”

triple header by 140445 | 7,890 words | E

Because Oscar isn’t here with Charles. And he’s not here with Max. He doesn’t get it, this thing between Max and Charles. They look like they’re here together, share glances that make Oscar feel like an intruder—but Max brought Oscar back to the booth to sit with them. For Charles to flirt with him. As if it’s some kind of game, where Max brings back prey for Charles to take.

somebody else by piastrism | 31,252 words | E

Oscar misses the color lilac — the color of the twilight sky behind Charles as they drank wine on Sedici, and the long-faded color left behind on his hips by Max’s fingertips.

we'll take the shadows (since the limelight isn't ours) by magnificentbirb | 2,177 words | T

Lando hears the screech of tires on asphalt behind him, the distant crunch of carbon fiber colliding with a wall. He glimpses only the aftermath of the carnage—the dust and smoke, the flashing lights, the unmistakable gleam of bright red—and then he’s clear. And that’s when the seconds slow down.

possessed by light by Anonymous | 6,885 words | Gen

It is a lesson you learn alone. Or that you are supposed to learn alone. At some point you will look at yourself in the mirror and see not just flesh and blood. You will see the capabilities beyond that. You will see your body as a ladder to forever ascend, to always want more. You will see just what you’re made of—and you will realise it has to be used. You will learn not to waste it. Charles did not learn that on his own.

[profound-imagination]

Flightless (Reimagined) - Azriel Shadowsinger

A/N - Okay so this is a rewritten version of this fic - I really hope you enjoy.

T/W: Very brief mention of S/A it isn't talked about in detail, the R word isn't used but please keep yourselves safe and don't read if at all triggering for you. Talks of violence.

W/C: 7.7K

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Swallowing the lump in your throat, you took a deep breath, steeled yourself against the biting cold, and approached one of the most terrifying males you knew. You wanted to do this, wanted to learn. "Excuse me, Lord Devlon?" He took his sweet time before he looked at you, before he acknowledged you. "What is it, girl?" He asked, no malice in his voice, but it wasn't kind either. "I was wondering if it would be acceptable for me to join training with the other girls in the mornings?" The two warriors next to him snorted, the third sneered, "What use would you be, girl? Your wings weren't even clipped, I don’t think there's a word for what happened to your wings, your missing half of one and the other is bent all wrong." A shudder ran through you at the memory, the agony, the heartbreak of never being able to feel the wind again, of never being able to answer its call again. 

Devlon paled slightly as he looked past you and snapped at the three warriors with him to get back to work, the third still sneering at you as he went. "I survived sir." You told Devlon quietly, "I survived what happened to me, I'm strong enough to train like an Illyrian." He ran a hand down his face, and you felt someone approach behind you, you did not turn but your spin straightened, and your broken wings flared as best as they could. "You'll get yourself killed, you'll be thrown into the Rite, just like the others. Besides, we start training as children, your age is against you." You looked up at him and met his eyes, "I can do this sir, please, let me try." He opened his mouth to reply but another voice came from behind you. "Why do you want to train so badly?" You turned slowly only to be met by the Lord of Bloodshed himself. The General of the Night Court stood tall, proud, and strong. The wind was whipping the lose pieces of his hair around his face. Seven ruby red siphons glinted in the sun. You had never seen him up close, but from here you almost crumbled under how powerful he clearly was.  

"I was held down as they mutilated my wings, my Lord. I was helpless, I couldn’t defend myself, I didn’t know how to." You could have sworn the air thickened, and the sky darkened as the Shadowsinger and the High Lord himself approached. "Who took your wings?” Cassian growled, glaring at Devlon as he did. “Well, it didn’t happen here!” Devlon snapped at the General who bared his teeth in response. These two clearly were not friends. “It happened at the Ironcrest Camp.” You told him quickly, your nerves fraying due to looks being exchanged between the two males you currently stood between, the last thing you wanted was to be caught between two fighting Illyrians. “This camp has been good to me.” You continued. “Devlon.” The High Lord greeted, “Rhysand.” Devlon gritted back. “Why won’t you train the girl?” Rhysand asked and Devlon gestured towards you, “Look at her, she’s in no shape to train, to fight. She wouldn’t last an hour in the Rite.” Rhysand studied you, “What happened to your wings?” He asked, his star flecked eyes meeting your own. “This isn’t a traditional clipping.” He said and you shuddered against the memory. “Let me see.” He said as you felt his power caressing your mind and then there, he was, in the middle of that night with you.  

Ironcrest was cold. Colder than Windhaven. There was a reason it was known as the cruellest camp, and it wasn’t just the biting weather that gave it that reputation. You were making your way back to your decrepit tent after clearing up after dinner. The males, as usual had eaten more than their share, your own you had split between the few daughters of the camp. Those who were discarded as soon as they were born. Urchins the males referred to them as. Stomach cramping with hunger you prayed to the Mother you wouldn’t run into Malakai, the Lord's son, the Male with the cruellest reputation, one that was well earned. You felt a flinch on the edge of the memory, and you knew it was the High Lord sensing your fear as you continued to walk through the dark. You had seen Malakai at dinner, drinking heavily and you knew that would do nothing to improve the perpetual sense of rage he seemed to live in. He, for some reason, had taken a shine to you and not in a good or kind way. You could see your tent in the distance, so so close, when all of a sudden, a hand wrapped around your mouth, trapping any sound, another arm around your waist, trapping your already weak wings from the lack of flying, females were not to be seen in the sky here, most of which had already been clipped. Everything went black before you could react. When you woke, three males surrounded you, Malakai and his two, equally sadistic friends. They were a band of brothers, much like the High Lord, the General and the Shadowsinger. You weren’t sure why you thought about them in that moment, maybe because they’d be the only ones to save you, but they wouldn’t come and why would they? You felt Rhysand flinch again at the thought.  

“Welcome back, sweetheart,” Malakai crooned at you, you didn’t look at him, you kept your gaze downcast. A good, submissive female. “You’ve been struting around here unchecked for too long.” He said, “I made it quite clear that you were to be mine and seeing as you won’t submit on your own, I’ll take what is rightfully mine.” Fear shot through your entire being and your body went numb as his friends held you face down in the dirt. You couldn’t fight, couldn’t move due to their weight. Laying there helpless you cried as Malakai hacked at your wings. Not at the base as you had expected, as you had witnessed in previous clippings while on your knees, holding the unfortunate females hands, promising her everything would be okay. There was no one to do that for you as you felt your left wing tear, as you felt the right one break. No one to tell you it was going to be okay as he forced himself on you as his friends laughed while you were bleeding out in the snow. You weren’t sure how long you cried in the snow, naked, cold, broken, it could’ve been hours before the daughters you looked after came looking, before they dragged you as best they could back to your tent and sat with you. You weren’t sure if the Mother herself was watching over you because even though part of you died that night, you were still alive come daybreak.  

“Enough! Rhys, enough!” A voice like night personified spoke, close to your ear. You felt the cold seeping into your tattered dress as Rhysand retreated from your mind. There was a warmth at your back you noticed as you looked at the High Lord’s face and saw nothing but rage there. “Are you okay?” The same voice asked you, “It can be unsettling the first time he does that.” It continued, you craned your neck and saw the Shadowsinger, looking down at you and you came to the mortifying realisation that you were in his embrace, on the floor. You scrambled away from him, “I’m sorry my Lord, I’m so sorry!” You rushed out. The General let out a laugh and pulled you from the ground gently, setting you back on your feet and making sure you were steady before he stepped away. “She trains.” Rhysand spoke, authority coating his words, daring Devlon to argue with him. “If she wishes to train, to learn how to defend herself, she trains.” He said. Devlon was silent for a long moment. “With me.” It was not Devlon who had spoken but the Shadowsinger. “She trains with me, personally.” He wasn’t telling Devlon, nor was he asking permission, he was telling the High Lord that training you was going to be his task, and his alone. The two of them seemed to have some kind of silent argument if the tick in the Spymasters jaw was anything to go by before Rhysand finally said, “So be it Az, she trains with you.” You couldn’t fight the small smile that graced your lips, even if your cheeks were burning with embarrassment from having been in his lap only moments ago. “Thank you, Shadowsinger.” You said quietly. He didn’t smile, he just nodded. “Azriel, my name is Azriel.”  

As instructed you were outside one of the only shops in Windhaven at daybreak. The door clicked open, and a female slipped out. “Oh, you must be Y/N.” She smiled gently. You returned her smile, “Yes, are you Emerie?” She nodded in confirmation that she was indeed Emerie. She looked you up and down and you didn’t miss her eyes snagging on the half of a wing hanging from your left side. “So, you’re Azriel’s new project.” She mused. “His new project?” You asked, “He’s just training me?” You said. “He’s a wonderful male, kind, gentle, but he’s dangerous and he’s easy to fall for.” She warned, “Have you?” You asked, “Fallen for him?” You clarified and she laughed, “Me? No, I prefer the company of females.” She told you with a smirk. Oh, oh. “I have no plans to fall for him, I just want to learn.” You told her and she smiled gently again, “Just be careful.” was all she said as the most beautiful female you had ever seen appeared and gave Emerie a dazzling smile. She bounced up to you, “Hi, I’m Mor!” He voice was like windchimes. “Hello, I’m Y/N.” You smiled, “Ready to learn how to kick these males asses?” She grinned and offered you a hand as you nodded.  

Winnowing was a strange sensation, it felt like falling and staying still all at once and then you really were falling. The air left your lungs as you collided with something and then you were flying. “Welcome to Velaris.” You opened your eyes to see the High Lord and you were flying. A grin split across your face; it had almost been a year since you had last flown and the wind felt incredible against your skin. Rhysand smiled down at you as he did a couple of loops of the house below while you grinned before he eventually landed. You finally took in the view of the city he had called Velaris. “It’s beautiful here,” you breathed. “You should see it at Starfall.” A female spoke from behind you. Turning to face the voice you saw the High Lord with his arms around a beautiful female and you knew exactly who she was. You dropped into a courtesy, “High Lady,” you greeted. She smiled warmly, “Just Feyre is fine.” She told you, taking your hand and helping you straighten and regain your balance, the wind causing your wings to knock you off kilter. “Is that what you are training in?” She asked, referring to your tattered dress and your cheeks burned with embarrassment. “It’s all I have.” You admitted and she frowned at her husband. “It’s fine, really!” You insisted and she didn’t argue with you.  

“Are you ready?” Azriel’s voice sent chills down your spine. You took a deep breath and turned to face him. “I am.” You told him. “We’re training a level up.” He told you, “This place goes higher?” You gasped, “It does, all that’s up there is a training ring, slightly smaller than this one, Cassian will be training Nesta, Emerie and Gwyn down here.” You nodded at him, “Once you're caught up you are welcome to join them, Nesta has already extended the invitation.” You smiled, that was incredibly kind of her, you had never been included before. In anything. “Let’s go.” He said, walking towards the door leading into the house. The interior took your breath away. You had never seen the outside of the camps before and you couldn’t comprehend how grand this house was. “Do you live here?” You gasped, freezing in place and taking in the parlour room. Azriel turned upon hearing your footsteps hault. Due to your half a wing your steps had a telltale uneven sound to them. He allowed a rare turn up of his lips at the sight of wonder on your face. “Yes, with Cassian and Nesta.” You didn’t acknowledge his words, still taking in the rich wallpaper, the plus sofas and chairs. “I’m not here much though, I’m often away for work but whenever I’m in the city this is where I reside.” He continued, that seemed to pull you back to him, “Oh, am I keeping you from that?” You asked gently, concern coating your eyes, “I can train at the camps, honestly, its fine.” You rushed out. Azriel shook his head, “You aren’t keeping me from anything.” He inclined his head towards the door and you followed next to him, running your hand along the back of the sofa, “I’ve never felt something so soft!” You exclaimed; an amused raise of his brows was all he gave you in return. You struggled up the stairs, your wings leaving your gait uneven, stairs was something you hadn’t faced in a long time, and it seemed you could no longer go up them very well. Azriel didn’t push or hurry you like you expected, he merely kept a step behind you to catch you if you fell. You were exhausted by the time you’d reached the training ring but more than determined to prove yourself. 

Training that day was brutal. Not because you got hurt, in fact, Azriel didn’t touch you once, didn’t once enter your personal space. He had started you off with footwork. It was much harder than you thought simple footwork would be, but your uneven wings made life difficult as did the shadows that constantly danced around you, but you loved your new little friends and he couldn’t seem to call them back no matter how much he told them to leave you alone and find something useful to be doing, apparently they thought nothing was more useful than being around you. He never once lost his patience, he let you work through it. Let you pull yourself from the ground time after time with nothing but gentle encouragement. “Good,” he said at midday, “You did well today, we’ll do the same again tomorrow.” Sweat was pouring off of you by the time he was guiding you through a cool down. “How did it go?” Rhysand asked, appearing on the roof with the pair of you while you were lying on your back, fighting for your life trying to catch your breath. “It went well.” Azriel told him as you just stuck your arm in the air showing him a thumbs up. Rhysand just laughed at you. “Y/N, I have asked our healer, Madja, to take a look at your wings, just to make sure, if you’ll allow it?” He asked, your sat up, crossing your legs and looked at him, “Make sure of what? They can’t be fixed? Half of one is probably still in that field in Ironcrest.” You told him, “I know they can’t, but I’d like to know if they are causing you pain and if we can do anything about that.” He said a kind smile graced his face and you found yourself nodding. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” Azriel said shortly, his attitude suddenly switched, and storms seemed to be brewing in his eyes. “Okay.” You mumbled quietly, slightly scared of the person he now seemed to be. “Azriel.” Rhysand growled, “You are to leave it alone, do you understand?” He commanded, pure High Lord. Azriel levelled him with a look, nodded once and took to the skies.  

Azriel:  

“Half of one is probably still in that field in Ironcrest.” Azriel wasn’t sure why the words had gutted him like they had or why they were playing over and over in his head. He knew something tragic had happened to her, something unforgivable, Rhys hadn’t shared with him or Cassian what he had seen in her mind yesterday, but it had taken all afternoon, several glasses of whiskey and Feyre perched on his lap before his brother had calmed. All he knew was that when she uttered those words a rage like he hadn’t felt for a long time consumed him. He was to leave it alone. That was an order from his High Lord, not his friend, not his brother, his High Lord. So alone he would leave it, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t investigate, Rhysand hadn’t said anything about investigating. So, naturally, he flew to Ironcrest. He kept quiet and out of sight of the main camp and sent his ever-helpful friends to investigate. He didn’t fail to notice the littlest one, the one that usually stuck to him like glue, rambling in his ear like an excited child, the one that hadn’t left her side all morning was the first to dart away at his command.  

It didn't take long before he heard a howl on the wind, they had found something. The remaining shadows engulfed him like a swarm. When they cleared again, he was in a small clearing. It was the little shadow howling for him and upon his arrival it came shooting towards him. "Look! Look! See, Master! See what they did!” It was frantically whispering at him. “Show me.” He answered it aloud and followed its lead. The smell of blood hit him first. Something that didn’t make sense, but he knew on instinct it was hers. Her injuries weren’t recent, not recent enough for the blood to linger, not with the weather up here anyway but it was as if her blood had permeated the earth and his wings unfurled with the anger that once again hit him like a tidal wave. He spotted it then, lying in the grass, half of a wing. Just like she said. The cuts were crude, as if the instrument used was too blunt for the cartilage of the wing. He knew, from his experiance in breaking people, that once they had sawed through the bone, they had torn through the skin with their bare hands, like one would with paper. Even as someone who inflicted pain for a living, he couldn’t imagine. His knees gave out without his permission, and he vomited. “Kill them! Make them suffer! Kill them all!” The little shadow was hissing as it darted around his head. Wiping his mouth on the back of his hand, he forced himself to his feet. “I will little one, I will.” He told it, “I’ll help!” It insisted, “You’ll all help when the time is right, for now, some of you stay here, find out who did this to her, keep me informed.” He addressed all of his shadows, the sneakier of which took their leave at his command. The little one floating by his ear like an unofficial second in command.  

Y/N: 

As predicted, there was nothing Madja could do for your wings, other than keep you comfortable with them. Which Rhysand insisted she do despite your protest that they had already done far too much for you by allowing you to train. You left of course, with ointments, tinctures, and vials for your wings. You arrived at training the next morning, aching but determined as ever. “Go on up!” Nesta told you with a smile and you give her your best smile right back. Gritting your teeth you pulled yourself up the stairs to the second training ring. Azriel wasn’t there when you arrived so you wandered over to the edge of the ring, bending at the waist to feel the wind over the wall. Your right wing, the broken one tried hard to unfurl and feel the wind but shattering pain lanced through you and it quickly stopped its movement. You stood there, a small smile on your face, hair whipping around you. “I like it up here, I can feel the wind again, I can hear its song.” You told Azriel who looked downright shocked you knew he was there as he emerged from his shadows. You let out a small laugh and put your hair behind your ear, “This little one gave you away.” You told him, showing you the little shadow curled around your ear like it belonged there. Azriel glared at it and it dived into your hair. “Don’t be mean to my new friend!” You scolded him and half of his lip twitched up into a smile. He came and leant against the wall next to you, taking great care not to knock your wings, Rhysand must’ve told him about the exposed bone and nerve on the left one that you wouldn’t even let Madja touch. “It must be nice to live somewhere like this, up in the wind.” You told him, “Do you miss it?” He asked, and you looked at him to find him already watching you, “Of course I do, but this is as close as I’ll ever get now.” You told him with a shrug. “Shall we start?” You asked. “Not yet, let’s enjoy the wind a bit longer first.” He said. From that day on, the first 45 minuets of training, Azriel dedicated to sitting on the wall, enjoying the wind. Slowly and surely, the Shadowsinger started talking to you more and more.  

Azriel:  

Six months later Azriel had found himself looking forward to morning training. It was no longer a motion to go through. He found he enjoyed Y/N’s quiet company. Enjoyed that she had never once been scared to call him out on his shit. It was her that had finally gotten through to him about Elain. He was repeating old patterns, and he knew that now. “You’re worth more than you think, Azriel. You deserve real and true love, mate or not. But this thing you have with Elain, this isn’t it. You know it isn’t. She’s using you and you know it, deep down you know it.” She had told him three days ago. He was furious. How dare she think such a thing about Elain about him? All he had tried to do is help her! He hadn’t shown up for training the last two days, but he knew from Cassian that she had and stubbornly carried on without him. Today, he was swallowing his pride and apologising for his actions. He had reacted badly at the time and she had flinched, she had been scared of him in that moment and it made him sick. He knew she knew he would never lift a hand to her in such a way, but she had still flinched, and he would not forgive himself for it, for the scent of fear that filled the air as he walked away from her in the middle of a session.  

When he made it to the training ring, she wasn’t there. So he waited, five minutes, ten minutes, fifteen. Emerie came bursting onto the roof, Mor on her heels, Cassian, Nesta and Gwyn behind them. “She never turned up this morning!” Emerie told him in one breath. “Mor and I went to her tent but she wasn't there either!” He met Cassians gaze and saw the worry there, the tick in his brothers jaw. Cassian ran these camps as best he could but even Cassian wasn’t enough to corral the old ways and he could read it on the General’s face that he was worried about what they would find. “Find Rhysand, meet me there.” Was all he said to Cassian before launching to the skies.  

Azriel wasted no time in heading straight for Devlon when he landed, his shadows skittering in all directions in their own search. The littlest one that she had become so fond of stuck with him, wailing in his ear. The commander met him halfway. “I know why you are here, Singer.” He said, “None of us had anything to do with it, we don’t know where she is, just that she’s gone.” “Truth, truth, truth.” The little shadow wailed in his ear. Azriel nodded once, “You and everyone here is to stay here, in the centre of camp and out of my way.” He said, his voice promising a cold death if they disregarded his order. Devlon nodded once and Azriel strode away. “Not here, not here, not here!” the little shadow repeated over and over again. “I know!” He growled at it, “Unless you know where she is, be quiet!” The shadow darted from his ear, up into his hair where it hid. He took to the skies again, circling the camp and the surrounding areas in slightly largest circles each time when Rhys and Cassian arrived. Rhysand took over sorting out a plan of action as the urgency and panic was starting to eat away at Azriel. He didn’t understand what was going on but the Spymaster almost suffocating with the frantic anxiety that was crawling up his throat and constricting his chest. His brothers shared a knowing look but did not enlighten him. He didn’t care. If it wasn’t her location, he wasn’t interested. The little shadow slid down his face, to its place curled round his ear and began to whisper once more. “Taken, hurt, taken, hurt.” “Where?!” He demanded and a swarm of shadows engulfed him, taking him to where they had found her.  

Azriel almost vomited again when he saw her, lying broken in the grass, in the exact spot where she had been broken a year prior. “Find out why she was at Ironcrest!” He snapped at a group of shadows that quickly departed. y she’s in Ironcrest!” He snapped at a group of nearby shadows. Whether she came here of her own free will or was taken against it, the outcome was going to be the same. The torture master of the Night Court was coming out to play and they were going to suffer. People were going to die and this camp would be red by the time he was done. Her favourite little shadow was already racing towards her. Azriel had never heard a shadow scream before, and it was haunting. A sound he would never forget for as long as he lived. He would wake from nightmares to that sound, just like he did to the sound of the flesh on his hands sizzling when he was a child. There was no way to describe the state of her already broken wings, or the amount of blood she was covered in. “Help her! Master! Help her!” The little shadow was screaming at him as he fell to his kness beside her, checking her breath. She was still breathing, that was a start. He heard Rhys and Cassian land behind him. “Not again.” He heard Rhys mumble and he whirled on his brother, “What. Do. You. Mean. Again?” He demanded, Cassian was the one who spoke, “Not now, she needs us!”  

Azriel turned back to the beautiful broken female lying in the grass. “Y/N? Can you hear me?” He asked, her eyes flew open, unfocused, and wild. Unsure of who was in front of her she went to move away and defend herself when she screamed. He assumed due to the pain she was currently in. “Y/N, it’s me!” Her eyes focused for a second and softened upon seeing him, she croaked his name, and a snap took place deep within his chest at the sound of his name and all of his instincts got stronger, harder to fight and he knew exactly what had happened. “There it is.” Cassian said to Rhys quietly who nodded back at the General. She went limp again. She would’ve hit the ground if not for Cassian catching her, placing her gently back down, from the seated position she was in. “No, no, no, baby, stay with me!” Azriel said desperately reaching for her. “Rhysand, help me!” He begged his High Lord, “Madja is the only one who can help her now, we need to move.” Rhys told him, Azriel stood, cradling her in his arms. Shadows were racing towards him from the trees. He handed her to Rhys as gently as possible. “You can winnow faster than my shadows. Take her.” Rhys nodded and was gone.  

“In the trees, in the trees.” The shadows told him upon reaching him. He and Cassian followed, both males freezing upon finding a young girl, no older than 4, crying softly under a tree. Cassian made himself as small as possible when he realised Azriel was in no state to deal with this and met the little ones eyes, “What are you doing out here all by yourself little lady?” He asked with a gentle smile at the girl. “Are you going to hurt her?” The girl asked, baring her little teeth at Cassian, Azriel would have laughed if he had it in him. “No, we’re her friends.” Cassian told her softly, “She helped me.” She croaked, “They tried to take my wings.” Azriel ground his teeth so hard he thought they’d break. “Are you hurt?” Cassian asked and she shook her head no, “Just a little cut.” She said, expanding her tiny wing so show them a graze. “Where’s your mother? Your father?” her bottom lip wobbled at the question, “Dead.” She said as another fat tear rolled down her cheek. She crawled towards them, completely by-passing Cassian and holding her little arms up to Azriel. He complied, picking up the girl and resting her on his hip. “Please don’t take me back. I want to go with her.” She begged, placing her little hands on either side of his face. Azriel and Cassian had a silent conversation between them. There was no question, the girl would come with them, they would find her a good home. She'd never come back to the camps. “You don’t have to go back,” Azriel said as calmly as he could manage, “But you need to go with Cassian now, okay?” She studied him some more, “Are you coming too?” She asked, why this girl had picked him to trust he didn’t know, especially now, with shadows pouring out of him and death radiating out of his pores. Azriel nodded at her, “Yes Little One, I’m coming too, but I have to go to the camp first.” She nodded at him and let Azriel hand her to Cassian, “Ready to fly little lady?” He asked her with a grin, “I can’t fly yet. Don't know how.” She told him, Cassian ruffled her hair, “That’s okay, I’ll fly us.” He said. Azriel was already walking away, “Where are you going?” Cassian called after him, Azriel didn’t stop moving as he said. “To work.”  

Rhys was waiting for him on the edge of the camp. Fucking Cassian. “Do not try and stop me, Rhysand.” Azriel warned and Rhys held his hands up in mock surrender. “Stop you?” He asked, “I’m here to help you.” That stoppped Azriel in his tracks. “To hurt an innocent like they hurt her is one thing, to be handled diplomatically as they see no issue with their ways, ways that I am trying to outlaw.” He said, “To hurt my brothers mate? That is another and for that, they will pay.” Azriel almost smiled. “You knew?” He asked, “I had my suspicions,” Rhys told him, “But I didn’t know for sure, not until today.” Rhys’ eyes glazed over for a second. “Cassian is on his way.” Azriel didn’t get time to ask his question before Rhys carried on talking. “The girl is fine, she's with Mor, she met Cassian halfway, she doesn’t know her own name though, so you’ll have to think of one for her.” Rhys told him, “Me?” Azriel asked, “Shall we start calling you Daddy Az now?” Cassian asked as he landed beside them. Azriel shoved an elbow into his ribs. “What?! Cassian asked, “She was asking for you and Y/N the whole way back.” The three of them strode into the camp, their intentions clear. Illyrians began to scatter but none got far thanks to the wards Rhys had thrown up around the camp. Malakai and his friends were easy to find.  

Once the brothers had gotten their prisoners situated in that chamber far below Hewn City, Rhys and Cassian once again departed, off to tell the Lord of Ironcrest his son would not be returning, Azriel got to work. Their deaths would not be quick, would not be merciful. He would not start with their wings, oh no. That would be a day two or three job. He wouldn’t take them too early, wouldn’t let them think they had lost that what Illyrians held most dear at the start, it would take all the fight out of them and that’s what he wanted, a fight. So he’d start small, Azriel knew exactly where to cut to cause the most amount of pain with the least amount of threat to life, but they would not leave here, not alive, not whole, and certainly not through the door. When the males were groaning, bleeding and full of Fae Bane, he left them hanging by their wrists. To spend their night being tormented by the beasts below.  

“Absolutely not!” Mor said as soon as she saw him. “Go and bathe.” Azriel growled at her, the need to check on Y/N and the tiny girl they had found pressing down on him so much he felt like he couldn’t breathe. “That little girl has been through enough without you showing up looking like that and terrifying her!” Mor hissed at him pushing him down the hallway towards his own room. “They are both fine, both strong.” She told him and the weight lifted enough for him to get a breath down. “Come back when you’re clean.” She said, turning away and walking back down the corridor.  

Once clean, he returned. His bath had done nothing to heal the tension in his body. He found his family gathered in a tight circle, whispering amongst one another. “I want to see her.” He said, garnering their attention and Rhys nodded at him, gesturing towards the door. He and Cassian followed Rhys him in. Every muscle in his body froze when he saw her. “Before you lose it,” Rhys said, “What was done was for the best, for her health.” “For her health?” Azriel repeated as a question. “Yes, she already had a nasty infection setting in and-” Azriel cut him off, “Her wings are gone! Gone Rhys, completely gone!” He roared. “It was for the best Az, It really was.” Cassian piped up. “With the new damage caused and the infection setting in, she would’ve lost the ability to walk as well, Rhys and Madja made a difficult decision, but it was the right one.” Panic was crawling up his throat, “I can’t.” He choked out, “I can’t be here!” Gods he was pitiful, she deserved a better mate than him. One that would sit by her bedside until she woke, one that helped her through this, but Azriel could barely look at her. “Az!” Feyre called after him as he fled the room, “There's someone in the sitting room whose been asking for you since they arrived.” She said catching up with him and taking his elbow, steering him towards the sitting room.  

“Mama!” Nyx called out, running into Feyre’s legs as soon as he spotted her. She picked him up, placing a kiss on each of his cheeks, “Hello my love!” She greeted him warmly. “She doesn’t know how to play.” Nyx whispered quietly to his mother and Azriel didn’t miss the longing in the little girl's gaze as she watched Feyre interact with Nyx. So, he took a deep breath to steady himself and crouched down, opening his arms to her in invitation, he was going to do something right today. She hesitated, for only a moment before a brilliant grin split across her face and she ran into his arms. “How’s your wing, Little One?” He asked as he stood with her, she extended it to show him, “The lady fixed it.” She told him and began rambling on and on about the light in Madja’s hands and the tingly creams she had used. He took a seat on the sofa, the one he clearly remembered Y/N telling him was the softest thing she had ever felt. He was going to buy her 12. The little girl situated herself in his lap, still talking a mile a minute.  “They tell me you don’t know your name.” She looked up at him, her big brown eyes shining, “Never had one.” She said and his face softened, even in that cell, all those years ago he had a name. Something that belonged to him. “Why don’t we pick you one?” He asked her, so wrapped up in this child he didn’t even notice Feyre and Nyx slip out of the room. “Okay?” She agreed, sounding doubtful. “Hmm,” He mused, “What about Luna?” He asked and she screwed her nose up, “No you’re right,” He said, “Sounds like a hounds name.” She giggled at him, placing both her hands on his face again, he took a mental note to figure out why she did that. “Selena? It means the Moon?” He asked and she shook her head, “I’m not a moon! I’m a girl, silly!” He huffed out a laugh, “My mistake, Little One, Lennox?” He asked, “No!” He grinned down at her, “This is hard!” He told her and she nodded her little head in agreement. “Theodora, Theo for short?” He asked, “Does that mean moon?” She asked, “No, Little One, Theodora means Gift of God.” She pondered it for a moment, “What god?” She asked, he had no answer for that. Azriel knew in his bones that this girl was a gift of God, but it didn’t suit her. “I don’t think it suits you,” He said, “Marceline?” He asked and her face softened at the sound of it. He watched her mouth the word, testing it on her tongue. Her smile answered his question, she was Marceline, she was his Little Warrior. 

Nyx came running back into the room, “Dinner!” He announced and Azriel caught the excitement on Marceline’s little face, and he wondered when the last time she ate a proper meal had been. His family would have fed her when she arrived, but a proper dinner, he didn't know. She scrambled off of his lap, “I have a name!” She told Nyx proudly, “What is it?” Nyx asked, “Marceline!” She told him, Nyx seemed to ponder the name she had told him, “Marcie.” He said, “I’m going to call you Marcie.” She grinned at him, “Let’s go!” She said, offering her hand towards Azriel to hold on the way to dinner and he felt lighter than he had in days smiling down at the two children clasping hands at his side. He made a note to talk to Cassian after dinner about turning the rooms that they used to share into somewhere for himself and Marceline to reside seeing as Cassian moved into the main bedroom with Nesta what seemed like years ago and to ask Mor to go with him for clothes and toys for the little girl. He had thought they would find her a good home, but he knew in the very marrow of his being that there was no better home for her than here, with him and hopefully Y/N. Besides, she had a built in best friend in Nyx here.  

“See, she’s not scary!” Marceline told him days later when she had coaxed him into Y/N’s room. He sat stiffly in the chair next to her bed, Marceline perched on the bed next to her. Wishing he could switch places with her. She didn’t deserve to be lying there. Marceline had been begging him to come with her for days and he had finally relented. “She wasn’t scared at all, Azzy!” Marceline told him proudly, “She hit him real good until the second and third one turned up.” Azriel knew she had. He’d seen the bruises on Malakai’s face himself. “I want to learn how to fight like her!” She continued, “Nyxie says when we’re old enough we can train together but I told him we’re not going to the camps to train.” She rambled on, “He said his Daddy went to camp, with you and Cassie?” She asked, “We did, Little One, that’s where we met.” He told her, “So, Nyxie is going to be High Lord, I’ll be whatever you are and we need a Cassie!” She said and his blood ran cold at the idea of this sweet little girl being anything like him. “Nyx will be High Lord,” He agreed, “But you, you Little One, you can be whatever you want to be.” He told her, “But what if I want to be like you? A hero? Brave?” She asked him, “My Little One, you already are those things.” He told her. Movement in his peripheral vision snagged his attention. After three long days, she was waking up, “Marceline, can you go and find the others for me please?” He asked, she nodded happily, jumping off of the bed and gliding towards the floor, her little legs already running before he feet touched the wooden floorboards, “Be careful!” He called after her. Unlike the little shadow that had chosen Y/N and that had not left her side since he had found her, the one that had chosen Marceline was bigger and clung to her little wings most of the time, “Go with her, keep her safe, make sure she doesn’t run into an important meeting if Rhys is in one.” He told it. Realistically he could’ve called the others himself, but he was unsure of how Y/N was going to react, what headspace she would be in, and he needed Marceline safe and out of the way. “Keep an eye on her and Nyx, make sure they are playing.” The shadow shot off after the little girl.  

Y/N:  

You could hear Azriel. He was nearby and talking to someone, move, move move. You urged your hand and to your infinite surprise. It did move. He was here, he had come. You had heard everyone else over the past however long you had been in this darkness, including a little voice you didn’t know, but it rambled at you a mile a minute. “Y/N, come back to me.” Azriel spoke again and you wanted to shout at him that you were trying! Your eyes darted around the darkness and a shimmer urged you towards it. The closer you got to it the brighter it shined. A beautiful golden thread. You grasped it in one hand and pulled as hard as you could. You heard a gasp, then felt a tug back and with that your eyes flew open. “Azriel.” You said, except it didn’t come out as his name, rather a garbled mess of letters. “Here,” He said, propping you up gently with one arm and bringing a glass of water to your lips with the other and you drank deeply. “I need you to stay calm,” He said, “But I have to tell you something.” You looked up at him, “My wings are gone.” You said before he told you. He nodded, “I’m so so sorry.” He said, “If I could give you back the sky, I would.” His eyes shone with nothing but truth. “Is she okay? The little girl?” You asked and a dazzling smile graced his lips, “Ask her yourself.” He said as a little girl with big brown eyes came bounding into the room, a shadow chasing after her. “You’re awake!” She exclaimed. “I’m awake.” You told her as she scrambled onto the bed next to you, helped the last couple of inches by Azriel. “Are you okay?” You asked her, “Are you?” She replied, “I think so.” You told her. “I’m okay,” She said, “Just one little cut that's going to be a scar like Azzy’s! How cool is that?!” She asked, extending her little wing to show you. Azriel visibly cringed that this little girl thought anything about him was admirable. “What’s your name?” You asked her and she looked at Azriel with a big grin before turning back to you, “Marceline.” She said proudly, “Azzy gave it to me!” Azriel cleared his throat, “Well, technically, we picked it together.” She ignored him. “I didn’t have one before!” She told you.  

Azriel sent Marceline and her shadow to go and find Nyx to play with and he was seated back in the chair next to your bed. “So, you're like a dad now?” You asked teasingly and he shrugged, “I guess so.” You smiled up at him, “It suits you.” He smiled bashfully. “Do you know?” He asked, “Know what?” You said, confusion washing over you, “What we are to each other?” He asked gently, it was then you remembered the thread and you gasped. “Are we, Mates?” You asked and he nodded. “How long have you known?” “When I found you. It snapped.” He told you. You just stared at him, “I understand if you want to reject it, if you don’t want me, I’m hardly the kind of male you deserve, hel, a 4-year-old had to drag me in here because I couldn’t face it, seeing you, looking so lifeless.” You cut him off, “Azriel?” He stopped talking, “Are those three males hanging in a dungeon somewhere, bleeding and wishing they’d never been born?” You asked and he nodded dumbly, “Of course they are, they laid hands on you, twice. You no longer have wings so neither do they.” He said, your smile clearly took him by surprise, “Then you are exactly the male I deserve, I see you, Azriel, all of you and I’m not scared.” You said softly, “Let’s just take it a day at a time, see where we end up.” He smiled, “A day at a time.” He agreed.  

[acourtofladydeath]

Hope Is A Fickle Thing

🎶 I've been keeping a seeeecreeeeet... 🎶

HELLO @yanny-77!! I have lied, schemed, and manipulated (with so much love) my way through the @acotargiftexchange to ensure I could deliver you the most perfectly curated fic possible. It was an absolute honor to be your Satan this gift exchange, and I hope you love this fic: an Empyrean angst inspired Azris calamity of errors featuring as much sword lore as I could wrap my head around. -Love, your Satan 😈🖤

Eris travels to the Night Court to surprise Azriel, hoping to sneak in a romantic rendezvous. Unfortunately, the night goes horribly awry. How many members of the Inner Circle will walk in on them? Guess we’ll find out.

***This fic takes place post HOFAS and includes spoilers for the Crescent City series.

***This fic contains direct quotes from Fourth Wing and Iron Flame woven in as parts of the plot. How many can you find?

Read a snippet below or start the full fic on AO3!

Running a hand through his hair to wrestle the short strands back into place, Eris let out a determined sigh. His steps echoed through the wide, empty halls deep within the Forest House as he set out toward his room. The day had been long and advisors more tedious than ever; pushing back against Eris’ attempts to prepare Autumn for his eventual reign.  Beron still sat atop the throne, High Lord in title, though his power waned. Each day Eris felt a new trickle join his amassing magic and he knew it would not be long before he’d need to make his move. All but one of his younger brothers stared at him with hungry eyes, anxious to steal what was rightfully his.  Pushing open his door, Eris tried to act unsurprised by what he found. His youngest brother lounged before the fire, long legs draped over the chair’s arm. Eris groaned internally, struggling to keep his eyes from rolling. He’d been hoping to unwind by himself for a moment, but no matter; he could prepare for what came next with or without Lucien there.  “Who let you in?” Eris asked, voice monotone in an attempt to disguise his disgruntled state.  Lucien scoffed, righting himself in the chair. “Why, I let myself in. You did get father to lift my banishment after the war.”  “Stop making me regret that.”

Continue reading on AO3.

Thank you to @suebswrites for being the absolute best spy and beta, and to @climbthemountain2020 for betaing and being the most supportive mod! Shout out to Vanth for connecting me with Suebs in the first place!

Let me know if you want on or off the taglist! @pippsmcgee @born-to-riot @chunkypossum @bubybubsters @queercontrarian @yanny-77 @fieldofdaisiies @iftheshoef1tz @secret-third-thing @jules-writes-stories @the-darkestminds @climbthemountain2020 @amalhe-kofee @molcat07

[gabrielsbubblegumbitch]

✨Staticmoth wedding headcanons✨

Because I have a lot of thoughts but can't come up with the plot to turn it into fic

✨ Vox absolutely loses his shit. You would think that Valentino would be a groomzilla material but oh no no, Val just wants sexy dress and enough coke to last three days of partying. Vox needs everything perfect. He has his grand vision and is ready to tear with bare hands everyone who does not deliver. During the preparation time, he murders as many people as Val usually does. Velvette bails on being the wedding planner after just two weeks because it was seriously straining their friendship. But after a month, she's back in the game. Why? Because Vox strangled three other wedding planners in frustration, and things weren't moving forward, so Val was starting to freak out.

✨ The event is held at the Vees' Tower. I reckon they've got a venue suitable for hosting conferences and porn award shows.

✨ It's a grand event. I'm talking Grand™, like the Kim K and Kanye West of Hell kind of grand. But it's also elite, so the guest list isn't that long, around 200 invited people plus 50 ticketed spots for anyone willing to drop 100k hellish bucks to attend. Everything is dripping with gold and diamonds because "quiet luxury" isn't in the Vees' vocabulary. The whole affair reflects Val's aesthetic more, as it's Vox's love letter to him. Vox already had his wedding, and now it's time to fulfill his husband's dreams. So Val makes about 90% of the decisions without shouldering any real responsibilities. Which is fine by everyone because he's annoying as hell when it comes to picking roses, flamingo feathers, and starters. Nobody wants to put him in high-stress situations. Expect lots of red, pink, and gold, with heavy, decadent fabrics and neon lights; it's like an exclusive brothel meets the Las Vegas strip.

✨ When it comes to flowers, they settled on roses because they're Vox's favorites, which naturally made them Val's favorite too, given the sheer number of bouquets he's received. Vox, being the freak he is, counts every single bouquet he's ever given to Val. So, for their wedding, he ensures there are twice as many roses. Yes, he's a pathological overachiever.

✨ As for attractions, there’s a plethora of erotic dancers in cages and mesmerizing drone light shows. Karaoke, slot machines, live cooking stations, and all the drugs you can imagine. And let's not forget a fountain flowing with tequila. It's a true adult wonderland.

✨ Valentino skips the whole white dress thing and rocks a fierce red latex gown that's very Mugler but with a fetishcore twist. Vox keeps it sleek in a sharp black three-piece suit. His shirt's a bold blue, and his tie matches Val's dress. His shoulder pads are pointy, his waist is slutty, his ass looks divine. Oh yeah, about slutty waist - underneath the shirt he is hiding a leather corset, as a treat for the wedding night.

✨ Also none of them really have friends other than Velvette, just associates so there are no groomsmen/maids.

✨ Since there aren't any traditional churches or government officials in Hell (if there's even a government at all), Velvette takes on the role of officiating the wedding. Vox isn't entirely thrilled with this choice because there's always the risk she might crack a joke or publicly rib him, but hey, there's really no one else who could pull it off. I imagine that a wedding in Hell is also some form of magical contract but more about partnership than ownership. They do not exchange rings but blood sksksk also I don’t think that Vox can really wear rings with his claws? And they couldn't quite agree on a design that satisfied both of them. In the end, Val ends up wearing his illegally imported engagement ring from Earth, featuring four pink diamonds shaped like a moth's wings.

✨ Val's vow is, well, atrocious. It's the kind of thing that would definitely land him in one of those TikTok compilations of terrible grooms ruining their weddings. He mentions cream pieing Vox at least once. Vox at first freaks out but seconds later realizes Wow that's the man I'm marrying. I wouldn't want him any other way On the flip side, Vox's vow is immaculate. Crafted with the assistance of Voxtek's CMO and practiced to perfection, it leaves everyone in awe. He has out-of-body experience playing this role of prince charming.

✨ For their first dance, they opt for a steamy tango. Picture this: swirling red smoke on the floor, making it seem like they're dancing on the sky of the pride ring when the sun is setting down. Little do the guests know, the smoke is laced with drugs, sending most of them on a wild trip. The party quickly goes off the rails, but in the best way possible (according to the Vees’ standards).

✨ The cake is a five-tier monstrosity with five different flavors: tres leches and chocolate-cherry chosen by Val, confetti cake and strawberry cheesecake chosen by Vox and Red Velvet for Velvette because she couldn't shut up about it To top it all off, there's a big chocolate figure of Vox and Valentino dancing. Val is later caught drunk, eating it with his bare hands like the filthy animal he is.

✨ Velvette’s wedding gift is a pair of customized matching guns with small engravings that read "Partners in Crime."

✨ Valentino pulls off a surprise special pole dance performance as a wedding gift for his husband. Let's just say it's scorching hot and leaves at least 50 guests with, uh, visible excitement. Later on, things almost escalate to a full-on table bang, but...

✨ Velvette spends the entire evening reminding them that they can't just vanish to consummate their marriage because this whole party took months of preparations, and they need to be present. After all, people paid good money to be around them. The threat of cock cages hangs over their heads, but they promise to behave. However, Val being the horny beast he is, ends up taking Vox to the bathroom for a quickie anyway. Velvette decides to let it slide this time.

✨ At least 20 casualties mark the night. Vox ends up zapping one of the guests who gets a bit too clingy with Val during the dance. Meanwhile, Val gets into a brawl and, well, let's just say it doesn't end well for the other guy. Surprisingly, everyone seems to be having a great time, but hey, these are the Vees' colleagues we're talking about—they thrive on violence and sex.

✨ Yeah, there's no shortage of sex at this party. With a guest list mainly consisting of businesspeople, adult performers, and mobsters, tensions escalate rapidly. By around 3 A.M., half of the party is busy getting down and dirty in every corner imaginable.

✨ When Vox reaches the perfect level of drunkenness, he seizes control of the DJ station. Surprisingly, he's a natural, dropping beats like a pro and having an absolute blast. Val, meanwhile, goes absolutely wild watching him, thrilled to see Vox letting loose and embracing his creative side.

✨ Derek, Vox's assistant, is the odd one out, the only low-status person to snag an invite because Vox felt kinda generous. But truth be told, Derek hates the idea and wasn't keen on attending. However, when Melissa caught wind of his invitation, she practically dragged him there to be his plus one, desperate to get closer to Velvette. Derek's terrified of most of the guests, but Melissa's over the moon. She later fucks him as a reward for being a very brave boy. Angel is not invited because he would ruin mood of both grooms.

✨ Valentino had prepared the filthiest, kinkiest, most elaborate wedding night, but it doesn't go as planned. Surprisingly, things turn out very vanilla for their standards, with a lot of missionary, eye contact, and hand-holding. After 16 hours of non-stop action, they're both too exhausted to even think about getting creative.

Thank you @purrpleowl @watcherofeternalflame @canadianlucifer @aroromantic @malu897 @staticmothed @chaggieslovechild @gumm1defloor @mayflowersfly for your thoughts!

[amyispxnk]

I'd run away and hide with you

Summary - Ellie joins you and Joel on your trek to Jackson. Along the way, your mind gets the better of you, and when you reach Jackson it all comes crashing down.

A/N: i don't have any excuses for why this took so long and im so so sorry guys 😭 2024 was hectic and ive only recently been able to catch up on stuff pls forgive mee

Pairing: platonic/father figure!Joel Miller x f!reader (could probably be read as GN tho?)

Word count: 3.8k

Warnings: angst, hurt/comfort, violence, guns, language, PTSD, abuse mentions, panic attack/mental breakdown

Previous Chapter || Series Masterlist

DO NOT COPY THIS FIC IN ANY WAY PLS AND TY.

You’re getting bad again; that much is visible to him now. But he doesn’t even know what’s wrong this time.

You never open up to him anymore. At the start, you’d tell him everything that was going on in that little head of yours. You’d let him hold you while you cried. You’d always talk to him.

Now you don’t talk and you practically smack yourself in the face whenever you cry, willing the tears away as you bite down on your lip.

It’s been a few months since you left Boston to visit the guys at Lincoln. It was a good trip. After that hiccup at the start, you had pretty much forgotten about your dad; he couldn’t even get to you in your sleep. You spent a lot of time hanging out with Frank whilst Bill and Joel ‘talked business’, and it was pretty fun seeing the little home they had built for themselves in the town - Frank even let you pocket some strawberries, and it was your first time trying them. Safe to say they were fucking amazing, and you told Joel all about it that night. He'd pretend to be annoyed at your incessant rambling but he liked to see you happy, distracted, somewhat.

When you came back, Marlene was bugging Joel about some new smuggling job in exchange for the car battery he’d been searching for and before you knew it, you were back on the road again to bring this kid - Ellie - to the fireflies.

She was a bright, bubbly kid. Constantly talking and telling you and Joel jokes from that damn pun book of hers.

Joel didn’t warm up to her nearly as quickly as you did, and you obviously knew why. You’d been staying with him for almost half a year now, and had gone through a lot of shit with him, so he’d told you about his past. About Sarah.

So you had a hunch that that was why he didn’t open up to Ellie easily. That was why he’d always just grunt at her whenever she asked a question, why he’d practically toss her food at her when she had to eat, why he would barely even acknowledge her.

You could always tell he never meant it though. He didn’t really hate her. He cared about her - that’s just how he was - and it scared him. He was a protector, a fighter, and, most importantly, a father. He basically took you under his wing and gave you all the paternal love you ached for before, and now he had Ellie to look out for too.

But as time went on, you started noticing things. He started laughing at her jokes, or engaging in conversations with her, even telling her about before. You then realised how much it actually pissed you off.

Seeing them getting along made you incredibly jealous. Joel was your protector, your carer, your da..

You shake your head. It still felt weird when you accidentally found yourself thinking of him like that, giving him that name in your head.

It had been a few months since you all left Boston, for good you hoped, you hated that place and all the unfortunate memories you left there, but now you were in the cold and unforgiving state of Wyoming.

Right now you were all huddled around a fire in a little alcove. Joel had some whiskey which he sipped on.. As he talked to Ellie. Fucking Ellie, who was joking around with him, asking him stupid questions about some sheep farm on the moon.

You weren’t paying attention, you didn’t care. You instead chose to stew in your own thoughts which were drifting back to before any of this. You stared into the fire as you remembered the times you were the one making Joel smile, the one he’d hold and comfort, the one he’d talk with at the end of a long day.

He didn’t do all of that with Ellie, but he didn’t do any of it with you anymore, either.

Suddenly, your thoughts go even further back, remembering your father. Remembering the constant screaming which definitely damaged your eardrums by the time you’d left, the incessant beatings you received - at least that taught you first-aid, right? - and the many, many nights spent crying yourself to sleep. You didn’t get to cry in front of your father, knowing he’d only hit you harder for being weak and useless, so you just waited until you were curled up on the little mattress on the floor, your dad already asleep from the alcohol.

You only come back to the present moment when you taste the metal of blood in your mouth. You didn’t remember biting down on your lip but apparently you had been so hard that it made you wince slightly when you pressed your fingers to it.

Joel didn’t notice. He was still talking with Ellie, his eyes soft as he looked at her over the flames.

Jealousy makes tears sting at your eyes. You’d thought finally, finally, you found someone who would actually care about you.

Now you watch bitterly as Ellie makes him laugh more than you’d done in a while, wondering what you did wrong.

-

You were clutching your handgun tight, not feeling safe out in the open like this despite not having encountered any dangers for a good week now. It felt like things were too safe, and you didn’t like it.

Your thoughts were interrupted by the sound of Ellie blowing air through her lips, and it actually kind of annoyed you, because what was she even doing?

Joel asked that question for you.

“What are you doing..?” He sighs heavily, glancing at her, to which she just smirks.

“I’m learning to whistle.” She replies simply.

“You don’t know how to whistle?”

“Does it look like I know how to whistle?” She huffs.

They go back and forth for a little longer, with Joel ending up defeated as Ellie continues her air-blowing, and you find your heart splintering at the sight of them bickering only like father and daughter would. It might not seem like much, but you’ve definitely noticed how Joel’s gotten closer with Ellie over the past few months. It’s upsetting, seeing his natural paternal instincts coming out with her too now.

The three of you make your way past a big dam and arrive at a river, at which point Ellie unhelpfully chirps up.

“Hey, guys, what if this is the river of death?” She jokes, not realising how poor her timing was, for you hear the heavy thuds of horse hooves almost as soon as she finishes her sentence.

“Hands up. Don’t make any sudden movements, or we shoot.” A gruff voice barks out. You know better than to go against what they’ve said, so you turn slowly with your arms raised, and wait for Joel to do any negotiating.

“We ain't lookin’ for any trouble, we’re just passin’ through.” Joel says, keeping his voice strong and unwavering.

“Drop the gun.” The man spits, and Joel slowly does as he says, his eyes wide with panic and betraying the collected and brave persona he attempts to put on when he realises that this might be it.

Ellie looks equally terrified, and you can’t blame her, especially when the man addresses her directly, telling her to step back and away from you.

“How ‘bout we just talk this through-” Joel starts.

“How about you shut the fuck up?” The man’s gun is now raised, and Joel knows better than to argue now, nodding.

The man asks about if any of you are infected, and you feel the dread setting into your bones. Joel tries to diffuse the situation and ease the man’s (unfortunately correct) suspicions, but it’s no use, as he whistles for the sniffer dog.

He offers you a bullet instead, the easy way out, and you all remain silent, panicking further as the dog sniffs you, then Joel, then makes its way to Ellie.

You don’t know where to look, you can see Joel starting to hyperventilate, you can see Ellie’s eyes shining with a terror you’ve never seen her showing before, and you just decide to not look anywhere. You squeeze your eyes shut before-

She’s giggling. Your brows furrow, eyes opening to see Ellie playing with the dog, her face getting licked, and she looks over at the two of you, giving you a sort of ‘how the fuck am I alive’ look, before petting the dog and smiling.

“You just bought yourself 10 more seconds. What’s your business here?” The man shouts, and Joel tells him that he’s looking for his brother, trying to keep things brief.

A lady rides forward, asking Joel for his name. He gives it, and she’s silent, looking around at the three of you and trying to piece things together, before telling you to come with her.

-

Maybe something’s wrong with me, you think, picking at your nails absentmindedly as you trail behind the group - Maria, Joel, Ellie, and Tommy on their little tour of Jackson.

No, something’s definitely wrong with me. Because why else would you be so jealous of them? Of Joel finally finding his brother - another person to drive him away from you - and finally growing closer to Ellie.

Not to mention the way you just fucking clam up any time he asks about it.

Not to mention the way you just let it all build up, suffering in silence, waiting and waiting for the inevitable moment where you break.

You all end up in the dining hall afterwards and, while you’re pissed about everything else, you can’t deny some good food. You almost moan at the taste of proper, seasoned meat after all these months, wolfing it down in similar speed to Ellie and Joel.

“There’s more if you need it.” Maria adds after a few moments of watching you all, no judgement in her tone despite your rough actions.

“Thank you, ma’am,” Joel says, looking up briefly before continuing to eat. “Been a while since we’ve had a proper meal.”

“Actually I don’t think I’ve ever had a proper meal,” Ellie chimes in, making you clench your jaw. God, even her voice pisses you off. Nobody asked her to talk. “This is amazing.” She mumbles, food in her mouth.

Joel glances at her for a second.

“Sorry.” He tells Tommy and Maria. “Ellie, let’s mind our manners.”

She doesn’t reply, looking up instead to see a girl watching her behind a pillar.

“What!” She barks, making the girl run away and making you scoff. She glances at you, frowning, before continuing to eat.

You knew she didn’t hate you - you were a good pretender most of the time. Laughing at her jokes, smiling tightly during conversations.. But lately you’d slipped a bit, and she was starting to notice.

“What’s wrong with you?” Joel mutters.

“What about her manners?” Ellie spits, always so defensive.

“She was just curious.” Maria soothes, “Kids around here don’t usually look or talk like you.”

“Right,” she says, nodding her head slowly, “well maybe I’ll teach them.”

It takes everything in you to not scream. She was annoying you so much. And she was getting all the attention because of her boisterous behaviour. You were sitting there, quietly, calmly, and no one batted an eye at you.

“And I want my gun back.” Ellie argues.

“They also aren’t armed.”

Tommy jumps in, sensing the tension growing even more.

“You know what, uh, I think y’all got off on the wrong foot.” He starts, but the two keep bickering.

Eventually, Tommy reveals that Maria is his wife, and after an eager congrats! from Ellie, and the most forced one possible from Joel, the meal ends.

-

Tommy quickly shows the three of you around the rest of Jackson - Maria chose to stay behind - before leaving you and Ellie in your temporary house, going to have a chat with Joel.

“Soooo.. That was awkward, huh?” She chuckles, trying to joke with you like you used to at the start of all this.

You nod, anger still bubbling up inside of you. You didn’t want to be angry at her, or Joel, even, and you knew if you talked with her for too long you’d just end up yelling at her, so you tried your hardest to keep calm.

She chews on her lip, nodding slowly before starting to ramble about how crazy this town is and how Joel is totally pissed at Tommy.

You keep nodding along, wondering how on Earth she manages to keep going on and on for way too long.

Eventually, she bids you goodbye, going to explore the town.

You wouldn’t want to hang out with yourself either, you think as she closes the door.

-

Joel came back home in the evening, pissed off. You tried saying hi to him, having decided you were done being annoyed at him, but he completely brushed you off before storming upstairs.

Maybe you weren’t making it up. Maybe he did just.. Start hating you.

Ellie’s been in her claimed room for an hour, and the house is quiet until about 10pm. You’re still on the couch, curled up, lost in your thoughts. About Joel, about Ellie, wondering about yourself, too. You were thinking about how nice this town is, how you didn’t want to leave tomorrow at all, but figured you’d definitely have to. You’d have to return to the wasteland outside these walls, and you’d probably never make it back to Jackson.

You’d had too many close calls already. God, or whatever was out there, had probably spared you enough.

Your thoughts spiralled and spiralled until it happened.

Everything came out.

It started with tears, silent as they streamed down your face, before the anger released itself, making you dig your nails into your skin in some final attempt at self-control, before you were storming upstairs.

You throw the door open to Joel’s room, and he blinks at you, having been in bed, probably trying to sleep while you soaked in your misery downstairs.

He’s such a fucking asshole, is all you can think.

“I’m not coming with you tomorrow.” You mutter, surprised you aren’t yelling already.

His brows furrow and he stands up, trying to approach you.

“What’re you talkin’ about?” He says, voice stern and rough.

“You clearly don’t want me around anyway! I’d just be making your life even harder if I came with you. I’ll.. I’ll just go my own way.” You huff, voice quivering towards the end when you realised you’d have to trek this world alone now.

He repeats his previous question and you bury your face in your hands, nails tightening against your fists as you try not to start screaming at him.

“When was the last time we had a proper conversation? Or you asked me how I was doing? Or you hugged me, or anything?! You couldn’t even be bothered to say hi to me earlier, and last night you and Ellie were being buddy-buddy by the fire while I was literally on the verge of tears. You clearly don’t care about me anymore. It’s just her.” You’re shouting now, rage consuming you as you get closer to him, shoving him backwards.

He grabs your arms roughly and you visibly flinch, eyes widening under your furrowed brows as you peer up at him. His face is blurry underneath your tears, and your mind short-circuits.

Your dad is back? Your mind tells you yes. Yes, and you’ve pissed him off now, he’s grabbing you because he’s about to throw you on the floor. You’re always doing something wrong - you should’ve known better than to argue. Only insolent, disgraceful children open their mouths in retaliation. You should respect your father. Now you have to apologise and pray he accepts it.

Immediately you’re cowering. He can’t even get a word out before you start apologising, body trembling as he loosens his grip on you.

“Please, sir, I- I’m so sorry- I didn’t- I didn’t mean to- to yell. I’m sorry, I’ll leave, just please d-don’t- please don’t h-urt me-” you choke out, voice raw.

His expression softens, brows knitted in concern now rather than frustration.

“Baby, come here-” he tries to say, but you’re shaking your head, inching further backward until you press against the wall, whimpering when you realise you’re trapped.

Now he’s going to hurt you. Your apologies mean nothing when he gets this mad.

Joel had only grabbed you. It was nothing like the abuse you used to face and yet it was still enough to make you completely crumble.

You sink to the floor, sobbing, still apologising. Ellie’s awake by now, her eyes wide as she listens to what she can make out. What the fuck did he do to you? She’s about to get up, to go and protect you. She doesn’t care if you’d been giving her the cold shoulder for the past few weeks, she doesn’t care if Joel seemed to be giving her the opposite at last. If you’re in trouble and it’s because of him she didn’t fucking care about anything else.

But then she pauses, just outside the door, hearing him cooing at you.

“Calm down honey. It’s okay, it’s me, Joel. Look at me, please.” He murmurs, crouched down in front of you but still giving you some space.

You had your arms raised in front of your face, legs tucked inward, trying to protect yourself from any potential blows, mind still loud and thoughts jumbled, but his voice suddenly helped to clear some of the fog.

You peered at him through the space between your arms and blinked the tears away as best you could.

“..Joel?” You croak after a moment, and he nods, a small smile blossoming on his lips.

“‘S me, sweet girl. Come here.” He opens his arms for you, and you shift closer, still timid and not making that final step.

He sighs softly, not disappointed or annoyed, just sad that your trauma managed to put you in this state.

“It’s just me, okay? It’s Joel, not.. not him. Look at my face, baby.” He whispers, and you do. Your dad wouldn’t call you baby or speak softly with you. Surely this man in front of you wasn’t him.

When you finally recognise him, you feel the tears blooming again, a small whimper escaping your throat before you’re crawling into his lap, clutching him tight. Still apologising, as always.

“Shh, it’s okay. What’s goin’ on, hm?” He says, voice gentle as ever as he holds you. He doesn’t squeeze you tight, or move in any way, he just lets you cling to him. He doesn’t want to suffocate you, knowing you probably already feel like you're drowning, barely tethered to him for support.

“Y-you don’t like me anymore.” You hiccup, and he shakes his head.

“No, sweetheart. Of course I like you. You’re my.. You’re my girl, yeah? Could never hate you.” He murmurs, brows furrowing. Why did you even think that?

“B-but you get on with Ellie way better now, and- and you don’t even talk to me anymore.”

He sighs softly. Ellie was.. A chatty kid. If she didn’t start all those conversations with him, he doubts he would’ve engaged with her nearly half as much as he did. He had grown to enjoy her ramblings, of course, but he was too stressed, anxious all the time on the road, to ever actually start the chats with her or you. He realises now how that would’ve looked to you, understands the emotional breakdown you’d just had, understands why you’d been so quiet recently.

You thought he didn’t want you anymore.

He gently pulls your head back, tilting it up so you could meet his eyes. His thumb catches a tear before it can fall and he starts explaining.

“Babygirl, I wasn’t not talkin’ to ya as much cuz I didn’t like ya. I was just stressed.. Too focused on gettin’ us across the country in one piece to worry about conversations. Ellie’s.. a bit of a chatterbox so of course I had to be respondin’ with her, but..” he trails off, guilt consuming him more and more as he tries to reason with himself. Yes he was nervous but that’s no excuse for the state his negligence has landed you in.

“Fuck, there ain’t no excuse, really. I just.. Please, please believe me right now. I’m tellin’ ya, I don’t hate you and I never ever could, okay?” He pleads, eyes searching yours for any sort of understanding or forgiveness.

He definitely doesn’t see hatred there like he’d seen when you first stormed up here, no, he just sees confusion, worry.

“You really don’t hate me? Even- even after I gave you so much attitude and I was shouting at you? Surely I deserve.. You shouldn’t be being nice to me…” You whisper, brows furrowing, confused at the fact someone was apologising to you. Normally you were the one apologising. He’d been the only person to ever show you compassion and understanding, and you thought, surely you’ve fucked it all up now.

He sighs again, shaking his head. “I could never ever hate you, honey. Never. No matter what you do or say to me, I can promise you hatred would never even cross my mind.”

You whimper again, nodding. “Okay.” Is all you can get past your lips, your body shaking with sobs again as he finally allows himself to hug you properly, rocking you back and forth and stroking your hair.

He isn’t surprised when you fall asleep like this, curled up in his arms. You’ve exhausted yourself in every way tonight, and you deserve a good, long rest.

He grunts softly as he stands up, still keeping you clutched in his arms as he makes his way to the bed and sets you down. He’ll take the couch, he figures. His back is fucked already.

But then you stir a little, blinking up at him as he watches you.

“Joel?”

“Hmm?”

“Can.. can you please stay tonight? I just.. I’m…” You can’t get the words out, but he understands. He knows what you need.

He gets in beside you, kissing your forehead after you cuddle up to him and drift off slowly, blanketed by his comforting presence, your mind a little less stormy with his reassurances now there instead.

Sleep evades him for much longer, though, distant memories of Sarah swirling within his mind. He wonders what she’d think of him, of you, of the way he’s taken you in like this. Would she be proud? Would she be angry? Would she feel like he’s replaced her?

He shakes his head, knowing that those thoughts would just cause him to distance himself from you again.

He finally manages to fall asleep at 2am, dreaming of Christmas trees and a little girl with curly hair.

Tysm for reading, I hope you enjoyed! Likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated!

Tags - @tbeep @rosierogie @jjlevin @axshadows @pedropascalsbbg @pedroshotwifey @pedrosfanny @s0meoone

[fyxestroll]

The Unequal Marriage

pairing: sanguinius x reader (fem.)

description: marrying an angel sounded like something straight out of a fairytale but in your reality, it was exchanging one gilded cage for another.

warnings: implications/allusions to acts of self harm by reader, forced marriage (this isn't yandere), overall angst and reader not having a fun time

notes: prequel to this fic. wanted to write abt marrying sanguinius in a fluffy way but this came out instead. this fic was inspired by a painting of the same name by vasily pukire, belated sanguinala everyone!

As a child, you would find your mother staring at her window for hours, peering into the port and the seas beyond. You’ve read of her adventures, of her mapping out the ever-changing isles on this planet. She was a legend, a hero larger than life and at that time you did not understand why she ever stopped. 

And maybe to comfort or encourage—you’ve long forgotten the reason, you would spend your free time reading her her discoveries and experiences. Sometimes, you'd even do reenactments and make her smile sadly.

She neither spoke nor formed a tight bond with you and even as a child you always felt like she should’ve hated you.

But she didn’t. 

And you don’t know why.

And now she's gone.

And now you’re the one staring out that damned window andandandandandandand–

Inhale.

Exhale.

‘You’ve cried enough so don’t. Ground yourself.’

The dress you wear feels too tight and your head hangs heavy with the various accessories pinned on your hair. In an hour you are to be married. That was final.

You’ve cried, screamed, and begged your father to do anything but this but the old man remained steadfast in his decision. This is the best-case scenario, you know that and you, a single sacrificial lamb, traded for what the court deemed an alliance is a far better deal than war with those things.

Humans, they called themselves but you’ve seen them up close, you’ve seen their leader and you know they aren’t. Humans can’t grow as tall, can’t wear hulking masses of armor, can’t fight the way they do and they most definitely did not have wings.

On the rare occasions you’ve managed to interact with these Astartes, you’ve always found yourself unnerved. Their politeness did little to hide how unnerving their visage was like they were something else underneath their skin. That rang true, especially for their leader, the Angel.

He is the one you are to be married to. The thought fills you with dread.

Your hand brushes against the windowsill. From here you could see the ships and clamor of the people as they go about their lives. It looked like a normal day, not a princess’ wedding day. 

‘Can I do this?’ You ask yourself. Can you take the hand of this Angel? Can you find it in yourself to take oaths foreign to you?  Can you leave everything you know behind? 

‘No, I cannot.’

And wasn’t that the truth? 

Adjusting your skirts, you sit on the window sill, waiting and letting your mind wander. You could jump off now, and taste freedom briefly before escaping in death like a maiden in a fairytale. 

But you don’t. 

Resistance in the form of self-harm is useless with the Astartes guarding your door. They’d stop you in no time and you, yourself have grown tired of fighting. One last act of defiance would only make things worse.

Eventually, after an hour the door opens and Soledad—your maidservant, enters. She’s dressed in fine robes and accessories fit for joyous occasions such as a wedding but her eyes held no such mirth.

“It’s time.” She states like an executioner.

Wordlessly, you stand up, a heavy weight on the pit of your stomach. You feel like throwing up but you force yourself to move. Soledad makes her way to your side, standing three steps behind as she has done for years. She makes no move to adjust the bunched-up trail of your wedding dress—a final act of resistance, a show of discontent and solidarity to you.  The Astartes standing guard at your door follow, flanking you on either side.

It feels like you were marching to your death and in a way it was.

The palace gardens were beautiful, as always but you could not admire the greenery with the amount of people in it. 

Members of the court, military and of course the large hulking walls of armor that were the Astartes standing in rapt attention. Their intimidating helmets had been forgone, revealing surprisingly angelic—ancestors above you’re getting tired of that word, faces. At the far end, in front of an altar stood two people a woman in an unfamiliar military uniform and the Angel himself.

From your left, your father comes, takes your hand, and leads you down the aisle with a firm hold as if he feared you would run. You wished his fears could’ve come true.

“Be good.”  Your father whispers before leaving you to stand in front of the Angel. 

The officiant clears her throat, “We are gathered here today to witness the union between Lord Primarch Sanguinius and…” ‘So the Angel does have a name.’ “Heir apparent and Chancellor of Rights.” She turns to the crowd, “If any have reason to object speak now or forever hold your peace.”

The attendees stay silent. Good for them.

You bite the insides of your cheek, the unlikely possibility of someone objecting dying that very moment. It takes all of your willpower not to let out a cry or a scream and so you force yourself to look directly infront of your soon-to-be husband. Except, you don’t see his face let alone meet his eyes. You’d have to look up for that so you only see your reflection on the shined gold of his armor.

The sight of your face made you want to cry more.

“Bride,” the woman’s steely blue gaze bores into you, “Your vows.”

Vows? You were not made aware that marriages in the Imperium needed vows.

“I…do not have any.” Your statement sparks whispers among the crowd and for a moment you feared you’ve angered the delegation but neither the groom nor the officiant make a comment on it. The woman proceeds with the ceremony, “Then please join hands.”

Finally, you see the Angel’s face up close   and like the Astartes he leads he’s beautiful, ethereal. His wavy blonde hair frames a face that was equally chiseled and soft and highlights his unnatural ruby red eyes. A circlet of gold rests on his head and as it shined in the late afternoon sun it reminded you of a halo. It made him appear all the more inhuman.

“Under the light of the Emperor of Mankind, Sanguinius, do you take her to be your lawfully wedded wife?”

Your stomach sinks.

“Do you swear to accompany her, so long as you both shall live?”

Gently, he squeezes your hands and meets your gaze, “I do.” The kindness his eyes hold make you sick.

“And you,” The officiant looks to you, “do you take him to be your lawfully wedded husband? Do you swear to devote yourself to him so long as you both shall live?”

“I…” The slight change in wording doesn’t escape you. If anything it only assures that your  feeling of dread isn’t unreasonable. The hands holding yours are far larger and you’ve seen what they were capable of. If you tried to run it wouldn’t be a problem for him to yank you back and the kindness in his eyes gave no assurance he wouldn’t.

“I do.” You breathe out. It feels like admitting defeat.

“Then by the power vested in me, I pronounce you as Husband and Wife, lawfully wedded!”

There are claps, cheers and clanks of armor but you can tell its superficial on your people’s side. The Astartes are much harder to read, their faces neutral through the whole ordeal. Sang-the Angel lets go of your hands and you turn to face the crowd as newlyweds.

The sounds of celebration becomes muffled to your ears as if someone stuffed cotton in them. A quick glance at your future husband lets you see a look catch a look of concern etched on his brows. You ignore it, putting on a smile and forcing yourself into the image of a blushing bride as a lone tear escapes your eye.

‘What now?’ You can’t help but wonder.

[totaly-obsessed]

Could you write a fic about Reader just always staring at Alessia because R just finds her really beautiful. Reader doesn't even try and hide her crush or staring and everyone knows. And if you wanted maybe add like Reader give Alessia a compliment everyday or every time she sees her (even if it's just saying you look beautiful or giving her something)

Muffin Top

Alessia Russo x reader blurb & request

-> Reader can't hide her crush on Alessia - who quite likes it that way

-> warnings: she/her pronouns, awkward flirting

➳ Masterlist

•─────⋅☾ ☽⋅─────•

“Oh god. Look at the big dope.” 

Beth’s gaze followed Katie’s finger, the defender pointing at Alessia who was currently falling over her own two legs, trying to re-tell a story to Lotte and Viccy. 

“What? You mean tiny?” Viv who had overheard her friends tried to make out who they were talking about. She thought they were talking about you. 

While you were not necessarily ‘tiny’ you had joined the Arsenal women’s team out of their academy when you were quite young – having quite literally grown into the team. And while you had grown, the nickname stuck. 

“Tiny? No! We`re talking about Less.” 

Now that you were mentioned, their eyes wandered over to you – sat on one of the benches at the side of the pitch. You had started braiding Laia’s hair when the Spaniard sat down in front of you. 

“She just can’t help it, can she?” 

No. you really could not – but who could blame you? 

Nobody that had ever laid eyes on the tall blonde striker – that’s for sure. 

Alessia had joined Arsenal at the beginning of the season and while you had always carried a deep appreciation for her talent, things had changed a little when she joined you at your childhood club. 

She was funny, so nice, and always listening to you when your quiet voice got swallowed in the chaos that was the changing room. 

The fact that she was stunning did not help your crush at all. You were falling – hard and fast. To everyone’s amusement you did not even try to hide it, staring blatantly at the striker – awkwardly flirting with her whenever the possibility arose. 

“Do you think we should help her? Poor thing – don’t think she’ll ever have a proper conversation with Less.” While Vivianne had compassion for you, seeing a little bit of herself in you, Beth and Katie did not – their eyes meeting and mischievous smiles taking over. “Nahhh.” 

Meanwhile, Alessia had joined you on the bench, handing you a bobble to finish off Laia’s hair, the brunette immediately skipped off, throwing a loud “¡Gracias!” into your general direction. 

Your heart was skipping as well, just not away from you but now that Lessi was sitting next to you, the staring was even more obvious – not that you cared. “Hey, Less?” 

“Yeah?” 

“You know what’s awesome? The top of a blueberry muffin.” Alessia wasn’t the least surprised that you actually handed her the top of a blueberry muffin, secretly swooning that you remembered that she didn’t like the bottom of it. “Tha-“ 

“Also, your face!” 

There it was. 

The incredibly bad flirting or rather blurting that the Italian loved so much, but only when it came from you. 

“Thank you, baby.” Not that the pet name wasn’t enough – she came closer, and closer, just to kiss your cheek. The blonde was satisfied after feeling the heat of your face, joining Lotte with a cocky smile on her face. 

“Just help the poor girl out, Less.” 

Katie had joined the childhood friends, her arms thrown over Alessia's shoulder, taking her quite literally under her wing. 

“Nah – I love her awkward flirting.” 

Like a proud older sister, the Irishwoman squeezed her shoulder “Atta girl.” 

--

Beth and Viv had been watching the exchange like everyone else, standing behind the benches, seeing you hold your cheek – still stunned at the kiss. 

“Please let me help her Beth.” 

“Nah – let her figure it out.” 

[syddsatyrn]

⛧Devotion is Love with Wings⛧

Chapter Three: The Queen's Return

Ch1 / Ch2 / Ch3 / Ch4

⛧Pairing: - Lucifer Morningstar x Reader

⛧Warnings: Alcohol, fluff, angst, hurt/comfort, king x servant, panic attack, heartbreak.

⛧Words: 3.2K

⛧Summary: Lilith's return brings a wave of tension, Lucifer navigates complicated feelings while you try to remain professional and devoid of emotion. As devastated as you are, you still have a job to uphold.

⛧Notes: Thank you all for the overwhelming support with this fic! I have never had so many notes and lovely comments! After much deliberation, I have decided to continue this series. I will tag as many people as I can.

⛧Tag list: @loslox @tiedyedghoulette @naiadic @elyssialumengard @lilteamushroom

As dawn broke over the horizon, you stirred in Lucifer's embrace. The events of the previous night felt like a dream, but his presence beside you reassured you that it was all real. You recall those sweet words that were exchanged last night, and how his lips felt against yours. His peaceful expression as he slept filled your heart with a sense of contentment you had never known before. You gently traced the contours of his face, committing every detail to memory.

The sunlight slowly illuminated the room, casting a warm glow over both of you entwined in each other's arms. Lucifer began to stir, his eyes fluttering open to meet yours. A soft smile played on his lips as he pulled you closer, savoring the moment of quiet intimacy between you.

The idea of a relationship with the King of Hell was no longer out of the question, you were free to enjoy his attention and affection. Well, at least within the confines of the manor it was allowed. You decided it was best to Let Lucifer take the reins when it comes time for a public appearance. Regardless, you felt like a weight had been lifted from your shoulders.

As the day progressed, Lucifer and you found yourselves falling into a comfortable routine within the manor. The staff noticed a change in the atmosphere, a certain lightness and happiness that seemed to radiate from the two of you whenever you were together. It was as if a new energy had breathed life into the once solemn halls of the estate.

Lucifer seemed to walk a little taller, his usual air of confidence now tinged with a newfound softness when he looked at you. He would steal glances in your direction when he thought you weren't looking, a small smile playing on his lips. And you, in turn, felt your heart swell with love every time he reached out to touch your hand or brushed a stray lock of hair away from your face. You both made sure the household staff never saw the two of you stealing kisses or holding hands.

Despite the unspoken rules and boundaries that still loomed over your relationship, you couldn't deny the connection that had formed between you and the King of Hell. It was a delicate dance, this newfound love between a monarch and his closest confidante, but one worth every risk.

But it was in those moments, behind closed doors and in the quiet of the night, that your bond with Lucifer truly flourished. He would share stories with you about his time in Heaven, about the burdens he carried and the sacrifices he made. You, in turn, would listen intently, offering words of comfort and understanding.

As the days turned into weeks, the line between duty and desire began to blur. Lucifer would often find any excuse to seek your company, he would often summon you to his study for a few kisses and to feel your fingers running through his blonde hair. Late into the evening, you would wait until all the staff had left, and quietly slip down the hall and into Lucifer's room for some sleepy cuddles. Eventually, you would drift off to sleep and have to sneak back to your room the next morning without running into any of the maids.

You had delivered his mail to his study and set it on his desk. Lucifer grinned as he suddenly pulled you into his lap, you let out a small gasp as he wrapped his arms around your waist. You smiled as he pressed his lips against yours tenderly, your face turned several shades of pink and you broke the kiss. His hands traced gentle patterns on your back, sending shivers down your spine.

"Is it hot in here, or is it just you?" Lucifer says as he looks at you with a mischievous twinkle in his eye. You couldn't help but laugh at his cheesy line, feeling the tension dissipate between you.

"Maybe it's just you," you reply, teasingly nudging him. You felt his fingers graze your cheek, tracing your jawline before He slowly closes the gap between you both once again. Another kiss that filled you with longing, but you quickly came back to earth.

“I have to finish up my work, I can’t stay.” You say with a giggle. Lucifer nuzzles your shoulder, he pouts and squeezes you a little tighter.

“Oh c’mon, you’re always working.” He says, hoping you’ll just give in and ditch the rest of your duties. As if you would ever consider such a thing.

"I promise I'll make it up to you later," you say, planting a quick kiss on his cheek before slipping out of his lap. Lucifer watches you go with a mixture of longing and amusement in his eyes. You exit the study with pink cheeks and a small smile.

Lucifer grabs the mail off the desk and sorts through it, one letter in particular stood out. The handwriting looked very familiar, almost too familiar. He grabs his letter opener and carefully opens the envelope. As soon as he saw the way his name was written he knew exactly who it was from.

“Lucifer- I know it's been a long time, and I know you might still be upset with me. I’ve decided to pay you and Charlie a visit. I do miss you both, despite taking my leave. Love always - Lilith”

Lucifer’s heart sank into his stomach, his hands trembled slightly as he reread the letter from his former lover and the mother of his daughter, Charlie. He had not seen Lilith since she left them both seven years ago.

Lucifer couldn't shake the feeling of unease that settled in the pit of his stomach. What could have prompted Lilith to break her silence now, after all these years? And what would her arrival mean for him, for you, and for Charlie?

Lucifer knew he had to tell you about Lilith's impending visit, to prepare you for the storm that was sure to follow. He rose from his desk and tucked the letter into his pocket.

Lucifer made his way through the manor, a heaviness in his steps that matched the weight in his heart. He found you in the garden, tending to the roses with a peaceful expression on your face. As you turned to him, a smile brightened your features, but it faltered when you saw the worried look in his eyes.

"Is everything alright, Lucifer?" you asked, concern lacing your words.

He took your hands in his. "There's something I need to tell you," he began, his voice tinged with worry. "Lilith is coming."

Your heart skipped a beat at the mention of Lilith's name.

You felt a mix of emotions swirling within you - curiosity, apprehension, and a tinge of jealousy that you quickly pushed aside. You used to serve Lilith for a short time, learning about her power and the strong connection she had with Lucifer. You knew that their relationship was complicated and filled with unresolved emotions, even after all this time.

Despite the aching pit in your stomach, you squeezed his hands and smiled softly. You could see the vulnerability in his eyes. “Whatever happens, I’m here for you.” You reassure him, his shoulders visibly relaxed at your words. Lucifer pulls you into a hug, seeking comfort in your arms.

"Thank you," he whispered against your hair, his voice barely above a breath. "I don't know what I would do without you by my side."

Those words trigger something in you, suddenly you have this overwhelming urge to protect him from such heartbreak. Lucifer never deserved what she did to him. To abandon him like that was just cruel and senseless. You hold him close and gently rub his back as he rests his chin on your shoulder.

“What does she want?” You finally ask. Lucifer sighed, the weight of his past with Lilith evident in the lines etched on his face. He took a step back, creating some distance between you and him as he gathered his thoughts.

"I'm not entirely sure," he admitted, his voice tinged with uncertainty. "But knowing Lilith, it could be anything from seeking forgiveness to stirring up trouble."

-------------⛧

As days passed and Lilith's visit drew closer, tension hung thick in the air. When Charlie learned that her mother would be visiting, she came to stay at the estate. She prepared a very detailed presentation centered around her redemption hotel that she intends to show mother.

Charlie's arrival added another layer of stress to the impending reunion with Lilith. As she busied herself with preparing for her mother's visit, you couldn't help but notice the mixture of excitement and anxiety in her eyes. Charlie had always longed for her mother's acceptance, despite the pain and abandonment she had caused. It was clear that Lilith's presence evoked a plethora of emotions within both Lucifer and Charlie.

When Lilith’s car pulls up to the grand entrance of the manor, you stand next to Lucifer, your arms folded behind your back. Lucifer's demeanor shifted slightly as Lilith emerged from the vehicle. His posture straightened, his expression unreadable as he watched her approach. Lilith's long, blonde hair cascaded down her back like a veil, and her eyes held a mixture of guilt and determination. As she drew closer, a tense silence settled over the courtyard.

"Lucifer," Lilith began, her voice barely above a whisper. "It's been too long." Her gaze flickered to you briefly, acknowledging your presence before returning to Lucifer. His eyes held a mix of nostalgia, longing, and perhaps a flicker of hope. The King's gaze softens as she says his name, you immediately take notice.

Charlie interrupts their interaction by rushing out to greet her. She envelops Lilith in a tight embrace and Lilith hugs her back.

Lucifer held nothing but love in his eyes as he watched the reunion between Lilith and Charlie. Despite the complexities of their past, he couldn't deny the swell of bittersweet emotions that washed over him at the sight of his daughter's happiness.

Witnessing this made your heart shatter into a thousand tiny pieces. Despite your attempts to push away any feelings of jealousy or insecurity, they crept in and poisoned any hope you had of continuing this relationship with Lucifer.

Lilith turned to you. “It's been quite a while, Y/N. Its nice to see your familiar face”. You quickly bowed your head, placing your hand over your heart.

“The pleasure is all mine, my Queen.” You said, voice devoid of any emotion or warmth. Lucifer glances over at you, but you refuse to make eye contact. He’s all too familiar with that tone in your voice. Lilith may not pick up on it, but he knew you, something was wrong.

"Lilith," Lucifer said coolly, "to what do I owe this unexpected visit?"

Lilith bit her lip nervously, a hint of remorse crossing her face. "I've come to make amends, my dear," she said earnestly. "I know I hurt you deeply, and I regret my actions . I also came to spend some time with our daughter." Lilith looks over at Charlie, who is smiling from ear to ear.

Charlie’s smile softened some of the tension in the air as she looked at her mother with adoration in her eyes. “I’m so glad you’re here, Mom,” she said, her voice filled with genuine happiness. Despite the past, Charlie's longing for a connection with her mother was apparent in every word she spoke.

Lucifer remained silent, his gaze shifting between Lilith, Charlie, and you. You could sense the conflicting emotions swirling within him – the desire to protect his daughter from any more pain, the lingering love he once held for Lilith, and the growing affection he felt for you. It was a delicate balance that threatened to tip at any moment.

As Lilith settled into the manor, attempting to make amends and reconnect with Charlie, you found yourself observing their interactions closely. There were moments of laughter and shared stories, but also instances of tension and unspoken words. You couldn't help but feel like an outsider in your own home. How could you compete with such a beautiful creature?

She does everything with such grace and carries herself with confidence. She has a radiance that draws people in effortlessly, while you feel like a mere shadow in comparison. You no longer sat by Lucifer’s side during your meals, you would only speak when spoken to, and you definitely didn’t sneak into his room at night.

You spent your nights alone in your room, as did Lilith. They had an argument this morning during breakfast. You stood next to the door, awaiting your next command when Lilith started to complain about not sleeping in Lucifer’s bed with him.

“Luci, please? We used to share a bed all the time, and I miss that connection with you," Lilith pleaded, her voice tinged with a hint of sadness.

"Lilith, we've been over this. I can't just...go back to how things were." He sighed, running a hand through his hair. His voice was steady and his gaze flickered towards you for a brief second.

“You are so cruel.” She says with a huff.

“Says the woman who left her family for seven years.” Lucifer retorts.

“How dare you! To think I married such a selfish man.” Lilith raises her voice as she rises from her seat. She leaves the dining hall through the door you stood next to. Lucifer held his face in hands, looking defeated. You wanted to comfort him, you really did. But you couldn't bring yourself to move a muscle.

"I'm sorry you had to witness that," he said quietly, his voice tinged with regret. You felt a pang of guilt for not stepping in, for not being able to ease his suffering.

"It's not your fault," you replied softly, finally finding your voice. "I can only imagine how difficult this must be for you." Lucifer stood up from the table and walked over to where you were standing by the door. Tears well up in the corners of his eyes, threatening to spill over.

He reached out a hand towards you, hesitating for a moment before gently cupping your face. "Thank you for staying," he whispered, his thumb brushing against your cheek. "I know this is hard for you too."

You pulled Lucifer into a tight hug, he buried his face in your shoulder, attempting to hide the tears falling down his cheeks. You ran your fingers through his hair, offering silent comfort as he let out a shaky breath. After a few moments, Lucifer pulled back slightly to look into your eyes. "I don't know what I would do without you," he confessed, his voice raw with emotion.

You searched his eyes, seeing the sincerity and love within them. "You'll never have to find out," you whispered, a promise lacing your words. You wipe his tear stained face with your thumb as you offer him a small smile.

Lucifer brought his lips to yours in a tender kiss. It was soft and tentative at first, but soon deepened. It felt like the floodgates had been opened. It’s been days since you’ve had any physical contact with him, you didn’t realize how much you missed his affection. The world around you faded away, for a brief minute it was like Lilith was never there.

When you both part, he presses his forehead to yours and closes his eyes as he breathes you in. You stood there, wrapped in each other's embrace, the sound of footsteps disrupted the moment. Charlie appeared in the doorway, a curious expression on her face as she took in the scene before her. There was a flicker of surprise in her eyes, quickly masked by a smile.

"Mom told me about when you two first met," Charlie said softly, her voice filled with warmth. "She said there was something special between you and Dad from the start."

Lucifer turned to his daughter, a softness in his gaze as he reached out a hand to her. "Charlie, there is something I need to discuss with you," he began, his tone serious yet tinged with hope. Your gaze flickered between Lucifer and Charlie. “I’ll leave you both to it, I’m going to go help the kitchen staff clean up.”

Lucifer motioned for Charlie to sit down at the table.

"I know this may come as a surprise, but Y/N and I have grown incredibly close over these past few weeks," Lucifer started. "And I've come to realize that love takes many forms…”

“Are you…not in love with mom anymore?” Charlie asks, her eyes wide with a mix of emotions. Lucifer sighed, the weight of his words heavy in the air.

"I will always care for your mother, Charlie. But no…things have changed and I don’t…see her the way I used to.”

“Dad, why didn’t you just tell me? Here I am, hoping you two will find some kind of spark and I can have my broken family back. I feel so stupid.” Her voice is filled with a mix of uncertainty and sadness.

“Sometimes relationships change and evolve in ways we never expect.” He paused, meeting his daughter’s gaze with sincerity. “Y/N has shown me a kind of love and understanding that I never thought possible. It’s different from what I shared with Lilith, but it’s real and profound in its own way.”

Charlie processed his words, her expression thoughtful as she looked down at her hands. “So, what does this mean for us?” she finally asked.

Lucifer reached out to take both of Charlie’s hands in his own. “It means that our family is changing, but it doesn’t mean it’s breaking apart,” he said gently. “Love is not a finite resource—it can expand to encompass more than we ever imagined.”

“I just wish you would have told me sooner. I thought we were going to start sharing more and build trust between us.” Charlie says and looks away slightly.

“Char Char, I absolutely intended to tell you as soon as I understood what was going on in my head. I needed time to come to terms with how I felt.” Lucifer tries to explain. "I know this is a lot to process, Charlie. But I want you to know that your feelings are valid, and I understand if this is hard for you,"

"I... I just need some time to think," she murmured, standing up from the table. "I'm going to go for a walk." With that, she left the dining room.

You told yourself you wouldn’t eavesdrop, but you couldn’t resist pressing your ear to the crack between the door and wall. A tear falls from the corner of your eye as you listen to Charlie. Are you breaking up a family? Your heart ached with the weight of the situation.

Lucifer let out a heavy sigh, running a hand through his hair. This is definitely not how he pictured this discussion going. He knew things would get complicated once Lilith got here, but he really thought he would get through to Charlie. Lucifer heads to his study to spend time alone contemplating about how he can fix this.