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hgfictionwriter · 4 months ago

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Self Control: Part Four - Changes

Jessie Fleming x Reader

Summary: Changes start to occur, some small, some bigger. Jessie and you navigate the first few weeks of your pregnancy.

Warnings: Vomiting. Some suggestive language.

A/N: Just fluff this time around, folks. Doting Jessie makes her first appearance lol.

Jessie and you were seated at the table eating breakfast together. With a baby on the way and your health more important than ever, Jessie took it upon herself to take over meal planning and prep. With her exposure to nutritionists over the years, her knowledge along with her now extensive research into prenatal diets, she figured this was a role suited to her.

The food you two ate was already pretty healthy - it had to be. But now, she made sure you got extra iron, protein, calcium, etc., along with your prenatal vitamins which she arranged every morning at the edge of your plate. She felt great about it all.

Minus the coffee situation. She had dutifully removed all remnants of coffee from your apartment given even the beans in the pantry made your stomach turn. She nearly gave the bag away to Janine, but quickly thought better of it when she realized the questions it may spur.

The best you and Jessie could figure, you were about six weeks pregnant. You took the test a couple of weeks ago and though small changes had occurred, for the most part things had been smooth.

Until now.

Jessie stopped mid-bite when you lifted your fork halfway, paused, staring vacantly for a few moments before setting it down rather abruptly and placing your hands at the edge of the table.

"Um." Was all you managed to say before you bolted up out of your chair and rushed to the bathroom. Jessie's fork clattered to the table as she shot up out of her seat and followed you.

She was coming around the corner when she heard you retching.

"Oh, baby," she said gently as she came up behind you and pulled your hair back as you coughed out what little you'd eaten. Your shoulders heaved and she knelt down and rubbed your back.

When you finally sat back, you skin was clammy and pale and you were short of breath. Jessie kissed your temple before rising and grabbing you a damp face cloth.

"I knew it was too good to be true," you mumbled as you patted your face. You finally opened your eyes and gave Jessie a weary look.

"Guess it's started, huh?" Jessie asked with a sympathetic expression.

"I'm going to die if I'm one of those girls that has morning sickness all the way through their pregnancy," you lamented, a sad frown forming on your face.

"Well," Jessie started, looking for the right words to say, "let's hope that isn't the case. And worst case scenario, if it is, I promise I'll take care of you all the way through."

"You better. This is your fault after all," you commented with a smirk. "You're going to hear that from here on out."

Jessie might've felt affronted, but instead she mirrored your smirk and felt a blush started to spread across her cheeks. She knew you didn't mean it negatively. It was her baby that was growing inside of you, creating all of these changes. And that concept pleased Jessie in more ways than she cared to admit.

Before her mind could derail and turn to inappropriate things, the sudden shift in your expression caught her attention, refocusing her immediately as you lurched forward and began vomiting into the toilet once more. This time dry heaving and struggling even more.

"Baby, I'm so sorry," Jessie said as she rubbed your back again. When you eventually pulled back, your eyes were watery with tears.

"You better be staying home," Jessie urged. "And I'll skip practice, too."

You groaned as you leaned back against the wall. You gave a feeble shake of your head. "No. I have a stakeholders meeting this afternoon."

"Babe," Jessie scolded. You waved her off.

"I'll take the morning off," you compromised. "It's morning sickness, right?" You laughed emptily, you and Jessie both reading that it could occur any time of day.

"I'll stay home with you," Jessie repeated. You groaned again. She knew you didn't want her to miss practice, but from the expression on your face you were clearly torn. "No room for discussion. I'm staying home with you."

You whined a bit further, but relented. "Fine. But just today. We both have to just cope with this. I can't miss work all the time and neither can you."

"Let's play it by ear," she compromised. You rolled your eyes, but you leaned into her, Jessie wrapping her arms around you right away. You lay heavy against her, still breathing deeply and struggling to remain composed.

It was sometime later before you were finally confident enough to leave the bathroom. Jessie helped you up and walked you towards the bed.

"No, I want to go to the couch," you nearly whined. Jessie swallowed a laugh.

"Okay. Couch it is," she accepted.

She built you a nest of blankets and pillows, carefully arranging you into it and placing a garbage can within your reach. "What do you want to watch?" She asked as she stood poised with the remote. You heaved a sigh.

"I don't know. Anything," you said tiredly.

She put on one of your favourite movies. You'd watched it dozens of times before, but you never seemed to get bored of it. When you looked content and cozy, Jessie gave you a kiss before stepping away.

"You're coming back, right?" You asked. While your tone had been stubborn and defiant a short while ago, now it was sad and almost meek.

"Of course, babe," Jessie replied, not being able to fully hinder her laugh. She turned to you, a wave of affection and love going through her upon seeing your sad eyes peering over at her through the blankets. She spoke patiently. "I'm making you some tea. Then I'll stay with you." She gave you a sad smile when you gave a morose hum and turned your attention back to the TV.

When Jessie returned to the couch, she set down the steaming mug of tea on the table in front you.

"It's really hot. Give it a few minutes. This is peppermint, but I'm going to go out to the store later and get you some ginger tea and crackers. We'll find stuff that settles your stomach."

"Thank you," you said quietly, exhausted and almost half asleep.

Jessie studied you for a few moments, readjusting your blanket a bit before sitting down at the far end right next to your feet. She pulled out the notebook and pen she'd had tucked under her arm.

Since finding out you were expecting, Jessie started tracking all of your symptoms, their timing, severity, frequency, and had a section dedicated to questions to she wanted to ask the obstetrician at appointment in a couple of weeks. She started making notes about today, including which foods you had for breakfast. She'd work on deciphering if there was something specific in it that triggered your nausea.

Her pen stalled against the paper when she felt you nudge her with your foot through the blankets. She looked over at you in question to see your eyes were closed though you weren't asleep.

"What are you doing?" You asked in a small voice, almost pouty. Jessie dug a hand under the blankets to give your calf a light squeeze.

"Making sure I take care of you two the best I can."

------

Another couple of weeks went by and Jessie wished she could say that your morning sickness waned, but it actually worsened. She was concerned for you, of course, but based on everything she read - and a precautionary call to the doctor - it was to be expected.

All she could do was try to help you navigate and mitigate best as possible.

It was especially hard being away from you these past couple of weeks. You'd stayed home a couple of times, feigning food poisoning and a flu, but you'd insisted that Jessie go to practice and to games.

You flip flopped between pouty and needy to stubbornly independent and it was hard for her to determine which you really needed and wanted. You tended to fall more on the side of the latter, so Jessie ultimately went to Kansas for her game, but it was torture leaving you in your condition.

While away, she texted and called as often as she could, though even that proved to be a greater challenge than expected since she couldn't risk anyone overhearing her conversation. You hadn't even told your families yet. Though you were both excited to share the news, you agreed you'd wait until the first ultrasound to tell your families, then a while longer for others.

When she was home though, she was all yours.

Though things were far from pleasant for you, it seemed like you'd collectively found some coping mechanisms or small wins.

Through Jessie's keen note taking, you'd refined some strategies involving smaller meals, sometimes broken out into just snacks throughout the day. At this point, you were on a diet that was rather tailored and limited to stay inoffensive to your sensitive system. Concurrently, your cravings were reaching a peak of their own.

When you weren't sick to your stomach, you'd developed an affinity for grapes, the texture and sweetness satisfying some kind of itch for you. "The firm ones, not the gross mushy ones," you'd specifically instructed. By now, you'd even developed very particular timing around partially freezing them before eating.

Pickles weren't a thing for you - at least not yet. However, dill pickle chips were. Very much so. Jessie went on one late night adventure to the convenience store for you to get them before caving and stocking up despite the fact that she wished you'd eat something a bit healthier.

She'd made the mistake of trying to limit you and nearly had her head bit off. She kept her opinions on the chips to herself after that.

One evening you were napping, simply exhausted from being sick, balancing work, and still trying to contribute at home. Jessie finished up a few chores she'd convinced you in relinquishing to her - at least temporarily - before heading into the bedroom to check on you.

You must've been warm because you'd kicked off all the blankets and your shirt was hiked up. Jessie wordlessly approached and gingerly climbed onto the bed, laying flat on her tummy, perpendicular to you and stared at your exposed stomach. Eventually, you woke and peeked an eye open. As you registered her position, you gave her a curious look as she still silently surveyed your stomach.

"I think I can see the slightest curve here," Jessie said, eyes still trained on your stomach as she lifted a finger to point at your abdomen.

"Hey," you said mildly as you swatted her hand away. The action surprised her and she pulled back giving you a sullen expression.

"Sorry," you chuckled softly, before grabbing her hand back and laying it on your stomach where she pointed. "My mind defaulted to just regular weight gain and being offended, but then I remembered, "Oh wait, I'm growing your baby" so I should show sometime soon."

Jessie hummed quietly, her sullenness forgotten as she gently stroked your stomach, studying it further as though she might discover something new. Honestly, it was a bit early to show, she was probably imagining things, but she willed it anyway.

Without realizing it, she began to speak.

"Hi little one." She felt your eyes on her and could feel her cheeks warm. She'd talked about the baby plenty, but she'd never talked directly to them before. "How are you? I know you're going through so much and just trying to find your way, but it would be really nice if you stop making poor Momma so sick."

She stole a glance at you, her cheeks growing hotter at the way you watched her in adoration. She gave you a faint smirk.

"It's not that I don't love taking care of Momma, but, I know she'd like to have a regular meal again. And not be so tired." She grinned when she heard you snicker. She continued to caress your stomach. "She's working really hard to make sure you grow nice and strong and healthy. Please try to be nice to her - she's our favourite person, you know." She cocked her head. "You can give her all sorts of trouble when you're a teenager instead."

You laughed. "I think you're going to be way more uptight than me when it comes to stuff like that, so I think you're just jinxing yourself, babe."

"Maybe," Jessie offered noncommittally as she smiled softly, still enamored at the mere thought of the life that rest below her hand and inside of you. "I can't believe that we're making a little human being," Jessie said in quiet awe.

Your hand came to rest on her forearm, your thumb slowly stroking her. "I know. It's incredible to think about."

"I love you," Jessie told you. "And I love you, too," she directed to where your baby was forming. Unexpectedly, her throat tightened with emotion. "I can't wait to meet you."

"Jess," you said gently as you began to brush her hair back. "You're going to make me cry."

"I can't help it," she said, her voice still taut as she leaned up onto her forearms to lay a soft kiss at the center of your stomach.

You continued to stroke her hair, but grew silent as you now stared absently at the ceiling. Eventually you gripped Jessie's hand and squeezed it tightly.

"I love our family so much already." You took a steadying breath. "I really hope everything goes well at the appointment tomorrow. I don't know what I'll do if something's wrong."

Jessie shushed you gently as she shifted to lay next to you.

"There's no reason anything should be wrong. We've been doing everything we should." She kissed your cheek. "Just one more sleep and we'll know for sure. And whether everything's perfect or if there is something we need to address, we'll do it together."

You exhaled heavily through your nose before you turned your head to meet Jessie's gaze. Your eyes were watery, but you smiled at her.

"I love you so much."

A few minutes passed, Jessie's own eyes falling shut as she lay peacefully with you. She opened them upon hearing you give a small huff of a laugh and seeing you wear a faint smirk.

"And I'm sorry I haven't been in the mood lately," you said. Jessie frowned deeply.

"Do not apologize. Like I said, you literally have a tiny human growing inside of you and you've been so exhausted and sick lately. I just want you to feel better. I'm not thinking about anything else," Jessie told you adamantly.

Your smirk grew. "Yeah? What I saw of your shower this morning tells me otherwise."

Jessie's face immediately began to burn hot as the memory of her activities this morning played vividly in her mind. You snuck a quick kiss, somewhere between teasing and placating.

"I can't wait until I feel better so I can take care of you again," you said. Jessie began to stammer a rebuttal when you interjected. "In the meantime, you really don't have to hide it. I may be puking my guts out, but I still think you're gorgeous." You shrugged lightly. "I'll just have to imagine it's my hand around you. Or you know, another part of me."

Jessie's eyes rolled into the back of her head and she shifted onto her back releasing a groan of both exasperation and appreciation. She covered her eyes with a hand, feeling the heat radiating off of her face. She shook her head with a laugh.

"Jesus Christ."

#jessie fleming #jessie fleming x reader #woso x reader #woso imagine #jflem #canwnt x reader #wlw fluff

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fredwkong · 1 year ago

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The Boxers

Sometimes, the perfect life just finds you, bruh.

I used to be a pretty normal guy. Wait, scratch that, I was a total fuckin’ nerd. I spent all my time playin’ video games and readin’ fantasy books and shit. I was getting a degree in computer science, so I spent all my time alone, coding shitty apps and nerding out on Reddit.

I had, like, no sex life, lmao. I was a weedy little Indian geek, bro, you know the type, right? I had negative game. Every weekend, I’d spend all night playing WoW or whatever, then go to bed and fantasise about how many bros I’d get once I was, like, CEO of a multibillion dollar startup.

I guess the universe looked at me one day and said, “Why wait, bro?”

I got back to my dorm one night and these, like, gross boxers were sitting right on my floor. I remember I thought they were totally lame, because they had the Sriracha logo all over them. “Who wears those but nasty frat boys?” I thought to myself. Huhuhu, little did the old me know.

Anyway, these boxers were totally messing up the vibes of my dorm. I used to be such a neat freak, bro. A place for everything, and everything in its place. A smelly, used pair of boxers made my skin crawl. So, obvi, I went to pick them up with two of my slim little fingers and toss them in the trash. I figured it was some kind of gross prank on me.

Once I’d picked ‘em up, I could see exactly how dirty those boxers were. The legs were stiff with layers of musky sweat, the smell wafting off them strong enough to make my eyes water. There were a couple of grease stains on them, like some dude had eaten dinner in just his undies. The crotch was crusty, too. Someone, maybe multiple someones, had cum in these boxers.

I remember wondering why the thought got me hard.

Rather than taking the Sriracha boxers to the trash like I’d planned, I found myself giving them a second sniff, and then a third. Goddamn, they were fuckin’ gross, bro. I thought it was just my disgust making me smell them over and over again. Like I was trying to figure out exactly what had gotten on them.

Before long, I was palming my lil cock through my slacks, holding the boxers close to my face with my other hand. It was, like, a total head rush every time I took another sniff. Like I could feel my brain blanking out as I took more and more of the musky stench into me. Not that I knew that was what was actually happening, huhuhu.

When I stripped off my pants and undies to jerk off better, I suddenly had an awesome idea. I could, like, wear the Sriracha boxers and jerk off in them. My brain was already at least halfway transformed by then, lol. I was definitely no nerd at that point. The idea of wearing another guy’s musky boxers got me so fuckin’ turned on.

I pulled the boxers up my skinny brown legs. They hung on my hip bones, barely able to stay on. I laid down on my bed and felt my rock hard cock through the crusty fabric. It was like I could feel the cum and sweat of everyone who’d ever worn that underwear seeping into my skin as I massaged drops of precum out of my balls.

As I writhed on my sheets, lost in pleasure, my skinny Indian body started to change. It started with my feet, which cracked and stretched as they grew big and thick. They started to sweat, a funky foot musk joining the renewed stench of the Sriracha boxers, which were getting super wet with my precum. It was like the brown leached out of my skin with my musky foot sweat, too, as my big feet got all pale.

The change continued up my bare calves, which got super hairy as the muscles flexed and swelled. My legs lengthened as huge quads and hammies swelled up under my whitening skin. God, said my musk-addled mind, I love leg day. I started to flex and wiggle my bulky thighs, feeling the muscles stimulate my growing prostate.

I let out a high pitched little bitchboy moan as my ass inflated with juicy muscle and fat, but I knew that my voice wouldn’t sound like that for much longer. I’d totally embraced the transformation as my cock and balls filled out the pouch of the boxers. They were no longer, like, loose and shit. My fat ass and big bro cock were stretching the sweaty fabric to its limits, bro!

My chest followed, going from slim to bulky so fast that all the buttons on my nerd shirt hit the ceiling. Sweat instantly started to roll off my furry new pecs, and I ran my soft little hand up and down my thick, firm belly and flexed the solid abs I knew were underneath the fat. More than the boxers and the smell, my body was starting to turn me on, bruh. I was becoming, like, a total frat god.

The curly brown hair that grew in my armpits smelled sooooo good as sweat started to drip off it. I totally buried my little nerd face in my own pits and licked up my sweat as I watched my arms bulk up and get all pale and hairy. It was so hot flexing my bicep and watching it bulk up before my eyes, dude! I felt my hand grow as I tugged my big jock cock in the Sriracha boxers, thickening up and getting some hard-earned weightlifting calluses.

The last thing to change was my head. My moans got deeper, slower, and totally dumb-sounding as my neck thickened. A thick brown beard grew on my cheeks, framing my cheesy dumb smile perfectly. My nose cracked and grew into a big ol’ sniffer, even more sensitive than my old nose so I can really take in my bros’ musk.

My old black buzzcut grew out into a curly brown mane, totally greasy from all the sweat I soak it with when I work out, huhuhu. As my forehead got all pale and my eyes turned blue, I felt my cock go over the edge, and I came right into the Sriracha boxers. Pump after pump of musky frat bro cream, taking my old self with it to impregnate the boxers with even more fratty juice. As the room filled with the smell of my thick load, I totally passed out.

The next morning, I woke up in an unfamiliar room. I was in a big bed with musky, sweat-stained sheets, a bunch of stale, unwashed gym gear all over the floor. I was still wearing the Sriracha boxers, my cum caked into the stain along with all the other bros’, along with a cap that I turned backwards as I sat up. I pulled on a tank without too many sweat stains on it and went to explore.

Turned out I lived at the Mu Upsilon Sigma frat house now. The whole place smelled like a sweaty armpit, and it was full of musky bros who were more than happy for me to get all up in their smelly pits and cracks.

I wore the Sriracha boxers for a couple days. Honestly, I dunno how long, I usually only change my boxers like once a month, huhuhu. I worked out, jerked off, got drunk, got fucked, and jerked off some more, all while wearing those boxers. Then I left ‘em in some nerd’s dorm as a prank, huhu.

It was so hot to watch the lil Japanese guy get as zonked out on the musky boxers like I had, bro. We hid in his closet and watched while he jerked off and turned into another musky white frat boy like us, then carried him to the MYS house once he passed out.

It’s been a couple weeks since then, and MYS membership has only grown, bruh! Each bro wears the Sriracha boxers for a few days, adds his personal touch to the, like, seasoning, and then we pass ‘em on to another nerd and induct him into frat life! Maybe some night soon, you’ll see these bad boys in your dorm, huhuhu. Life's perfect in the frat, bro!

#male transformation #mental change #muscle tf #male tf #dumber tf #race change #musk tf #white tf #fratification #broification #mu upsilon sigma #all fwkong

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cl3fairyyy · 9 months ago

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hide and seek || edward nashton / the riddler x fem reader (nsfw !) ⋆｡𖦹°‧★

summary || your sex life recently with edward has been non existent. with him being so focused on his plans for gotham, you have found your needs being neglected. you decide to take initiative and plan a fun game for edward while he's at work.

warnings || SMUT!! there is plot but this is pretty much straight up porn lol. reader and edward role-play a kidnapping scenario but everything is consensual!! slapping, restraints, degradation, light knife play, overstimulation, p in v, pussy eating, choking, hunting(?kind of?), (fake) threats of violence, mentions of stalking, the suit stays ON during sex, some weird purity/ corruption stuff in this idk i think a demon possessed me halfway through writing this. minors please do not interact!!

word count || 4k i did not mean for it to be this long oopsie!!

notes || i haven't written smut in a LONG time so i am so sorry if this is straight up garbage pls go easy on me. recently reread year one and im seriously going insane the hyperfixation is so back guys. i love writing edward so much especially when it comes to writing some nasty porn about him LOL. i srsly had no idea how to end this so its kinda bad sorry D:

┊ ┊ ┊ ┊ ┊ ┊ ┊ ┊ ┊ ┊ ˚★⋆｡˚ ⋆ ┊ ┊ ┊ ⋆ ┊ ┊ ★⋆ ┊ ◦ ★⋆ ┊ . ˚ ˚★

In recent months, you have found yourself growing increasingly frustrated. For the longest time, you haven’t had the faintest idea of what has been causing this, and that has caused it to manifest itself in various ways throughout your everyday life. You have found yourself much more easily annoyed by the most minor inconveniences, and have had repeated warnings at work to stop arguing with customers over the pettiest of matters.

One afternoon in late November, whilst attempting to share in your boyfriend’s body heat on the sofa of your freezing living room, watching the news and listening to him ramble about finally ‘revealing the truth,’ it hits you.

Edward hasn’t fucked you in months.

Even before this change, you didn’t have the most active sex life- you were both too busy holding down your day jobs whilst simultaneously investigating the corruption poorly concealed beneath Gotham’s cobbled streets. Still, you’d find the time every other week or so to take care of each other.

You love having sex with Edward; he’s so gentle with you, handling you like a precious gem that will shatter if dropped. He always makes sure your needs are met before he even thinks of himself, worshipping your body with an obsession akin to a deeply faithful Catholic’s love for Christ himself.

But sometimes... it can get boring. Not as boring as not having sex at all, but boring enough that you often find yourself lying awake at night, longing for Edward to keep up his Riddler persona for just a little while longer after he arrives home from doing whatever he does to have the coppery scent of blood soaking into the walls of your small apartment.

You know your frustration will only worsen the longer you go without having sex, so you decide to do a small experiment.

You take the next few days off work, pretending to be sick, and Edward, usually ever attentive to your every need, your Edward, who begins panicking if you all but sniffle the wrong way, barely notices. With your theory proven that his work has been turning him into someone who is evidently not your sweet Edward, you begin doing everything you can for even an ounce of attention from him. You give him shoulder massages after he returns home from a long day at work, cook him his favourite meals, run baths for him, at some point it evolves into you all but throwing yourself at him, and you have to take a step back to reevaluate your approach. Being that desperate for sex is not a good look, especially when your boyfriend is completely oblivious to how horny you are.

You decide you need to formulate a plan to force him to focus on you.

It starts with the lingerie. You scour the shopping apps on your phone for an embarrassingly long time, trying to find something perfect. You eventually come across a pretty lilac set, its sheer mesh bra framed with soft ruffles and feminine frills to accentuate your chest, and immediately order it, even begrudgingly spending a little extra for next day delivery.

The next step of your plan is to come up with a simple puzzle, something stimulating but still to the point- you're so horny that you know the next time you’re in a room with Edward while he still has that Riddler costume on, it’s going to take some real self-restraint to stop yourself from ripping it off him.

The final step of your plan is waiting for the perfect moment to put everything into action. You realise it isn’t the most complicated or glamorous scheme to ever exist, but if it manages to work and allows you to finally get some action, you won’t be complaining.

One evening, when it’s well past 5pm, and definitely well past the time Edward should have been home from the office, you get a text from your beloved.

hi honey, moved tuesday’s plans forward to today. got an opening with savage and cant miss it. will be home late- ill pick up food on my way back. love you.

we’re finally making some REAL change : )

You almost leap out of your chair with excitement, rushing around the apartment to make sure everything is in place for your little game of hide and seek.

When Edward finally returns home, the apartment is dark- it’s well past 11pm, so he figures you’re in bed. He sighs, setting down the takeaway bag on the coffee table and calling out your name, pausing when you don’t answer. You always wait up for him when he’s running his late-night ‘errands.’ When he thinks about it more, he realises you didn’t even text him back earlier this evening; you’ve been sick, too- what if you collapsed, or had complications, or worse?

Before he can begin panicking, he finally notices the lit candle on the kitchen counter. Next to it is a piece of paper, which Edward gingerly picks up with shaking hands, reading the five words scrawled across it.

‘Dear Riddler,

Come find me.’

Confusion clouds Edward’s mind for a moment before he realises that he’s reading your handwriting, and the sweet flowery scent giving him a headache is his favourite perfume of yours. He stands still for a moment, rereading the note as the familiar feeling of want begins to curl in his lower belly. You’ve never actually addressed him as the Riddler before.

He definitely likes it.

You crouch uncomfortably in your hiding space beneath the dining table, straining your ears against the silence of the apartment as you try to gauge how Edward has taken your little game based off his breathing. You hear the rustling of fabric and the sound of something zipping up, and realise he must’ve slipped his jacket and mask back on because his breaths are definitely muffled now.

He begins taking slow, deliberate steps around the apartment, his combat boots loudly thudding on the wooden floorboards as he does so. You suddenly feel very vulnerable in only your undergarments and wonder if this is how his victims must feel, a thrill tingling deliciously up your spine.

You shift a little in your spot, trying to find a way to crouch comfortably while also remaining out of sight. Your heart pounds so hard in anticipation of being spotted that you’re sure Edward can hear it, especially when his footsteps begin to head towards your hiding spot.

You bite the inside of your cheek, trying to keep the sound of your breathing to an absolute minimum; the silence in your apartment is deafening and, for the first time in all the years you have known him, you begin to feel almost weary of Edward’s presence. In this moment, you’re not just Edward’s partner.

You’re his prey.

So wrapped up in your own mind, you don’t hear Edward’s footsteps behind you. You feel two strong, gloved hands grab your hips and rip you out of your thoughts. You squeal giddily as Edward throws you onto the wooden dining table, biting your lip to stifle the giggles that threaten to spill out.

Edward looms over you, his glasses glinting in the moonlight that seeps into the apartment through the cracks in the blinds. He is completely silent, save for the heavy breaths muffled by his mask. When he finally speaks, his voice is low and raspy, and the sound of it sends tiny shivers of excitement up your arms.

“I’ve been watching you for so long. Every move you make, I’ve followed from the shadows, waiting for the perfect moment to snatch you up. Do you know how hard it’s been? Hearing your pathetic whimpers while you fuck yourself every night, and having to wait until it’s me making you unravel? But now I have you here, all to myself, and no one is around to save you.”

The sight of him like this, so indescribably large compared to you, looking down on you like a lion that has captured its prey and is about to rip it to shreds- it sends sparks of arousal through you that pool in your sheer underwear. You look up at Edward through your eyelashes, smiling innocently.

“Looks like you caught me.”

With that, he drags you up, throwing you over his shoulder as he heads towards your bedroom. Your face burns, unsure of when or how he got so strong, and the anticipation of what he is about to do to you sends tingles of delight down your spine.

Edward throws you carelessly onto the bed before straddling you. He wordlessly grasps your wrists in one gloved hand, holding them above your head while he rips off a piece of duct tape from the roll that dangles from his belt, and binds them together securely. He subtly tilts his head to the side, and you can read him so well at this point that you know he’s asking if your restraints are too tight. You shake your head, and he immediately melts back into character, sweeping his gaze down your exposed body predatorily.

His gloved hands reach forward, roughly groping your breasts, pinching and rolling your clothed nipples between his fingers. You squeak, writhing beneath him, deciding to put on a bit of a show with it.

“P... please, don’t...” you whimper pathetically, bucking your hips into his. You hear him groan under his breath above you, removing one hand from your chest to grip your chin harshly, squishing your cheeks together. “Shut up.” His voice is low and dangerous when he speaks, a complete contrast to the sweet voice Edward usually addresses you with. “You’re trapped here, and no one is coming for you. You can scream as loud as you want, it won’t make a difference.”

“You’re so pitiful, dressed up like one of those whores on the street just to get my attention.” He breathes out slowly, slipping a gloved finger beneath your bra to massage your nipple. “I can’t say it hasn’t worked, but a whore is still a whore. You need to be cleansed, like the rest of the filth in this city, and the only person willing to do that is me. That’s why,” he pauses, the hand gripping your chin roughly yanking your mouth open as he leans over you, pulling up his mask slightly and spitting in your mouth, “you will take everything I give to you like a grateful little bitch.”

He slaps your face, hard enough to sting but not enough to bruise, and you swallow the mixture of your saliva and his. You can’t stop the moan that slips out from between your parted lips, and he locks eyes with you, his pupils blown so wide with arousal that his eyes appear completely black in the low light. He leans forward again, pulling up his mask, and harshly kisses you, pushing his tongue into your mouth as his knee forces your legs apart. You whimper when you feel his erection brush against your thigh and he bites down on your bottom lip, hard. He moves his focus to your neck and collarbones, attacking the sensitive skin with kisses and bites, marking every inch of you that’s visible.

“This is so,” he murmurs breathlessly between fervent kisses to your skin- and, Christ, is he smelling you?- “everyone knows you were fucked by the Riddler. You’d like that, wouldn’t you? For everyone to know that you’re such a whore that getting fucked by a serial killer gets that pathetic cunt of yours completely soaked.” You moan at his words, arching your back to press your chest against his as you grind against his knee.

“Such a needy little thing. One touch from me and you’re already at my complete disposal.” He leans back on his heels to look over you, your hair a complete mess, your lips swollen and as red as the flush on your skin. The strap of your bra has slipped down your shoulder and Edward’s breaths become haggard as he reaches for the knife on his belt; he cuts away the fabric hiding your breasts from him, much to your dismay (that lingerie set was pretty fucking expensive), and immediately takes one of your nipples in his mouth, swirling his tongue around the sensitive bud before biting down lightly. You moan louder, squirming against your restraints and trying to pull away from him.

He slaps you again, harder this time, running the flat side of his knife against the mark that begins blooming on your cheek. “If you don’t shut up and take it like a good girl, I'll have to hurt you.” He presses a chaste kiss to your parted lips. “I wouldn’t want to ruin a face as pretty as yours.”

You whimper, rubbing your clothed core against Edward’s thigh, feeling the arousal in your lower belly build from the stimulation. Edward certainly doesn’t miss this, his eyes widening slightly as he peels your underwear away from your pussy. A string of your own slick connects you to the mesh fabric, and you can hear the amusement in Edward’s voice when he says, “oh, I’m going to ruin you.”

He cuts your underwear away, dragging his knife down your body painfully slowly. You shiver from the cool metal, whining from frustration when Edward’s gloved fingers spread your glistening folds, pointedly ignoring your throbbing clit.

“You pathetic girl... so wet for me. No one else could get you to react like this from their words alone, could they?” You shake your head rapidly, wiggling your hips in an attempt to get closer to Edward’s fingers. “Say it, then.” He begins lazily rubbing circles into your clit, causing you to cry out with relief at him finally touching you. He runs the blunt end of his knife across your neck, twisting it in his hand so the tip presses into your skin, not quite breaching your flesh. “Nice and clear for me. Tell me that you’re my bitch.”

You moan when he begins speeding up his movements on your clit, stumbling over your words. “I.. I’m your- your b-” He cuts you off with another slap to your cheek, and the action sends a sharp jolt of pleasure right to your clit, causing you to choke out a moan. “Not quite, pretty girl. Try again. Whose bitch are you?” Your eyes narrow with confusion for a second before you realise what he wants you to say.

“I’m th- the Riddler’s bitch.”

He nods, satisfied, pushing two gloved fingers inside of you while the other continues rubbing your clit. You can feel your orgasm approaching embarrassingly fast, whimpering and giving Edward a pleading look.

He nods wordlessly and you unravel, your orgasm enveloping your body in a blissful warmth as your pussy clenches hard around Edward’s fingers. He breathes out through his nose, hard, as he watches you cum, his cock throbbing at the feeling of your pussy spasming around his fingers.

Edward pulls his fingers out of you when your body finally finishes shaking, inspecting your wetness on them in the low light of your bedroom for several moments, before pushing them under his mask and sucking them clean. He moans at the taste of you, and you feel his dick twitching against your leg as he closes his eyes, savouring you. He sighs, opening his eyes.

“I need more.”

Before you can react, he’s gripping your waist with strong hands, dragging your body up against him, holding you up almost completely off the bed, and hooking your legs over his shoulders. Edward gazes at your drenched cunt with a hunger in your eyes that you've never seen displayed by him, his breaths deep and shaky as he smells the arousal leaking out of you. You squeak, thighs still quivering from your previous orgasm.

“W-wait, Ed- Riddler, I... I’m still t-too sensitive for...” You cut yourself out with a cry of pained pleasure as he latches his mouth onto your pussy, pushing his tongue into your sensitive hole. You sob as he sucks on your clit, shocks of overstimulation wracking through you as you weakly kick your legs against him, your body growing limp. The sounds Edward makes as he devours your pussy are obscene, the room filling with echoes of your cries and Edward’s moans as he sucks and licks crudely at your sex.

He pulls away occasionally, praising and degrading you in barely coherent pussydrunk babbles: “such a perfect girl for me,” “stupid bitch, such a needy whore for your savior,” “so pretty with mascara running down your face,” “any louder and I'll give you a real reason to cry,” “taste so good, i need all of you.” And it’s all so much, his tongue writhing so deep inside you, the grip of his hands on your ass, the cool leather biting into your flesh, the way he moans and ruts into the bed from the taste of you, and before you can even breathe you’re cumming again, and you’re cumming so hard your back lifts off the bed entirely, the strength of your orgasm rocking you all the way to your core. Your mind goes blank as a chain of choked moans and sobs spill from between your lips, all you can focus on being the way Edward continues to fuck you with his tongue all the way through your orgasm. You can feel your slick sliding down your thighs, and when Edward pulls away you can see it dripping down his chin, and you don’t miss the proud grin on his face as he pulls down his mask.

He drops you back onto the bed, straddling you once more and wiping your slick from his chin with his finger, motioning for you to open your mouth. You obey him and he pushes the digit inside, motioning for you to suck it clean. When he pulls his finger from your mouth, his eyes darken, and you can practically feel the smug smile in his words. “Such a good little girl for me, aren’t you? No one can make you cum like I can... and I can still smell how horny you are for me. You’re so needy, yet you’re never satisfied.”

He tilts his head, and the dim light from the lamp behind him illuminates him similarly to a halo, and you almost find yourself beginning to create a religion in your head just to worship him.

“I don’t think you’re being very grateful.”

You begin crying out words of thanks, rubbing your legs together to lessen the ache of overstimulation. Edward's knees cage you in, and he grips one of your thighs with his hands.

“Quit your grovelling and stop fucking moving when I’m talking to you.” His hand travels to your face, cupping your cheek with a surprising tenderness as he sighs. “You’re still so filthy... look what this city has done to you. I suppose I’m your last hope.”

He unbuckles his belt and unzips his trousers, finally freeing his cock from its confines. The tip is an angry red and leaks with precum, and Edward lets out a breathy moan as he strokes it. He spreads your legs, lining himself up with your sex and pushing into you slowly. He gazes down at you, a complete mess beneath him, and groans. “You’re so lucky... being fucked by Gotham’s salvation...”

You can barely think, let alone speak, and when Edward begins moving his hips, his thumb finding your clit and massaging it, you sob, tears streaming down your cheeks. He moves in and out of your agonisingly slowly, and when you look up at him, you can make out that his eyes are closed as he savours the feeling of you.

“Your virgin pussy is so... so fucking tight. Oh... h-how does it feel to be fucked by your saviour? Your God?”

You sniffle beneath him, choking on your sobs as he speeds up to a punishing pace, his cock bruising your insides. He grabs at every inch of you, his hands finding refuge around your throat.

“Oh, you’re so good. You were so filthy, but I will cleanse you. I will purify you; I will plant the seed of hope within you, and you will be saved.”

He babbles on as he fucks you, squeezing his fingers around your throat, verging on crushing your windpipe but never quite gripping hard enough. You cry out for him, so cockdrunk and lightheaded from your sudden lack of oxygen that you find yourself looping your bound wrists around his neck, pulling him forward and crashing your lips to the rough leather of his mask. He makes a noise of surprise before his fingers once again find your clit, rubbing at it desperately as his hips begin to stutter against your own.

Edward, ever the gentlemen, wants you to cum before him; you feel your cheeks grow warm at the thought, and pull away to look at him. You can barely keep your focus on him, your vision going hazy, and he begins assaulting your clit with more fervor.

“Be a good little angel and cum for your savior.”

Your vision goes white as the orgasm rips through you, your entire body spasming as your pussy clenches down hard on Edward’s cock. He has to stop moving to prevent himself from cumming as he guides you through your own orgasm, his fingers weaving through your hair as he coos at you.

“Yes, that’s it. Such a perfect girl. So pretty cumming on my cock.”

He begins speeding up again, his hips slapping against yours with a clumsy rhythm, his breathy moans growing louder and more desperate with each thrust. You lay, exhausted, whimpering incoherent words of encouragement to him as he chases after his own climax.

You feel him begin to pull out and you weakly wrap your legs around his hips. “W-want you inside. Need... need you to cleanse me from the inside.”

Your words are what tip Edward over the edge, and he whimpers loudly as his cum spills inside you, his hips grinding into yours as he relishes in the aftershocks of his orgasm.

Thank God you're on birth control.

Edward slowly pulls out of you and cuts the duct tape that binds you, gently pressing kisses to the insides of your wrists. He pulls off his fogged up glasses and his mask, placing a gentle kiss to your lips as he smiles at you worriedly.

“I didn’t go too far, did I?”

There's your lovely Eddie.

You shake your head, laughing weakly and he smiles, pushing his glasses back up his nose as he helps you to your feet and guides you to the bathroom, letting you use his body for support. Edward sits you on the lip of the bath and dampens a towel, gentle cleaning you up and placing loving kisses to every bare patch of skin he can reach. He reluctantly leaves you alone to freshen up as he straightens up the bed, changing into his pajamas and finding your favourite t shirt of his to sleep in.

When you re-enter the bedroom, with a slight limp that Edward definitely notices but refuses to comment on, he dresses you and tucks you into bed before lying next to you, brushing your hair out of your eyes.

“Sorry I’ve been so... distant lately.”

When you go to answer him, he rubs his thumb soothingly on your cheek and you get the message that he hasn’t finished talking.

“We have big things planned, we both know that, but... it wasn’t right of me to not look after you when, now that I look back at it, you really made it obvious that you needed me to. I hope you can forgive me.”

You smile, pressing a shy kiss to Edward’s lips.

“Don’t apologise, Eddie. There’s nothing to be sorry for. You can apologise tomorrow when I can’t feel my legs or sit down properly for a week.”

He laughs and buries his face in your neck, inhaling your scent.

“I really love you, you silly girl. A-and..."

He pulls away from you but continues to avert his gaze, his cheeks pink and a lopsided grin tugging at his lips.

"The, um, th-the lingerie was very pretty, you looked really lovely. I'm, ah, sorry about..."

He doesn't meet your eyes and you snort, bringing a hand to rest on his cheek with a fond smile.

"Yeah. That I'm not so quick to forgive. You have no idea how expensive nice underwear is when you're a woman."

Edward laughs shyly, delicately holding your wrist and pressing tender kisses to your palm that leave you melting. The heat in his eyes, however, is undeniable.

"I absolutely will not complain if you decide to spend all my money on pretty lingerie and then decide to model said lingerie for me."

"You're unbelievable."

You both laugh as Edward continues peppering soft kisses up your arm, then your bruising neck before finally meeting your lips in a tender kiss. He pulls away, and the way he looks at you with such love and adoration almost makes you tear up.

Edward twirls a strand of hair around his finger, pulling you closer to his chest. His fingers reach up and he begins combing them through your hair properly, whispering sweet praise to you as you find yourself dozing off.

#dano riddler #dano riddler x reader #edward nashton #edward nashton x reader #paul dano #riddler 2022 #riddler x you #batman 2022 #edward nashton x you #riddler x reader #danocel #danonation #dano!riddler #the riddler #the riddler x reader #the riddler x you

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elegyofthemoon · 9 months ago

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good grief 😭

i feel like i need to go back and reread the earlier manga even though they were retconned within the timeline but i feel so bad for mei in chapter 15 :(

i think it was in st.freya high/escape from nagazora (which i know are ggz or honkai gakuen 2 manga but it was on the reading list so i read it anyways asdlkfah), but i think a lot about how she was so afraid of her powers as a herrscher, and how it was kiana that had saved her back then.

there's "will of the herrscher" where she finds out that kiana's the herrscher of the void, and in parallel with escape from nagazora, mei tries to save kiana, and calling out to kiana, she does manage to get kiana's consciousness back but loses it so quickly and soon enough loses kiana in the process

then finally over in arc city, when she thought she would be able to reunite with kiana and bring kiana back home -- even despite everything, even despite how much kiana feels like she doesn't deserve to go home -- she still isn't able to save kiana the way kiana had saved her several times now, and how powerless she must feel against durandal taking kiana away from her.

she just wants kiana back :( please reunite them...

#avil plays hi3 #hi i ran off to go play hi3 after that hsr stream LOL #and then when mei said this i was like THATS WHAT I WAS SAYINGGGGG THATS WHAT IVE BEEN SAYINGGGG #god i need to go back and reread some of the old manga i kinda forgot #but its been really nice to play through ch 16 and hear more from mei bc i feel like #shes kinda sat in the background for a while aslkdfjh #and the way she thinks of kiana - how kiana was the one to change her life made me soooooooo 😭😭#ummm i think my goal is to play up to ch 17 NOT TONIGHT but #ch 16-17 before hsr update. yeah :)#i like how the two interests i have fuel into each other so i get pingpongd back and forth #very fun lmao #i wasnt planning on continuing w ch 16 for too long but i did wanna get kinda halfway on it alskja #and then i wanna go back to watching rain code and clean my brain a bit #anyways i believe in mei T _ T

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youngsadlesbian · 5 months ago

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TEENAGE DREAM — wanda maximoff.

pairing: wanda maximoff x reader

summary: you managed to live out your teenage dream with wanda maximoff.

a/n: this came out of nowhere in my mind and i couldn't help but write and post it, even though it's super random lol. hope you like it 😉

word count: 1k

warnings: none, just pure fluff.

The first time you saw Wanda Maximoff, she was alone on the edge of a rooftop at the Avengers compound, looking out at the horizon. The sun was setting, casting a warm golden glow over everything. You were new to the team, still getting used to the extraordinary world you were now a part of.

You approached her hesitantly.

"Hey," you said softly. "Mind if I join you?"

She turned to you, her green eyes reflecting the colors of the sunset. A small smile played on her lips.

"Sure," she replied, moving over a bit to make space for you.

You sat down beside her, letting the comfortable silence envelop both of you. There was something serene about Wanda, a calmness that belied the power you knew she possessed. As the sun dipped below the horizon, you felt a sense of peace you hadn't experienced in a long time.

In the weeks that followed, you found yourself increasingly drawn to Wanda. She was kind, thoughtful, and incredibly intelligent. Despite the chaos that often surrounded the Avengers, being with her was like a breath of fresh air.

One evening, after an especially tough training session, you decided to take a walk around the compound. The sky was clear, and the stars shone brightly above. As you walked, you talked about everything and nothing, sharing stories from the past and dreams for the future.

"Do you ever miss your old life?" Wanda suddenly asked, breaking the comfortable silence.

You thought for a moment before answering. "Sometimes. But I wouldn't trade this for anything. Being here, with you... it feels right."

Wanda smiled, her eyes gleaming in the starlight.

"I'm glad you're here," she said softly. "You've made everything... better."

You felt your heart swell at her words. Reaching out, you gently held her hand.

"You too, Wanda. You too."

As the weeks turned into months, your bond with Wanda grew stronger. You found yourself falling for her more and more each day. Finally, you gathered the courage to ask her out.

"Hey, Wanda," you nervously began one afternoon. "I was wondering if you'd like to go out with me. Like... on a date."

Wanda's eyes widened in surprise, but then she smiled warmly.

"I'd love to," she replied, a hint of enthusiasm in her voice.

You planned a simple yet thoughtful evening. A picnic under the stars, complete with her favorite foods and a cozy blanket. As you spread out the blanket and unpacked the food, Wanda looked around, her eyes shining with happiness.

"This is perfect," she said, taking your hand. "Thank you."

You spent the night talking, laughing, and enjoying each other's company. As the night wore on, you found yourselves lying side by side, gazing up at the stars.

"Have you ever wondered what's out there?" Wanda asked, her voice soft.

"All the time," you replied. "But right now, I'm more interested in what's right here."

Wanda turned to you, her eyes meeting yours. Slowly, she leaned in, and you met her halfway. The kiss was gentle, sweet, and filled with all the emotions you both were feeling. It was a moment you would never forget.

After that night, you and Wanda became inseparable. You trained together, fought together, and supported each other through tough times. The other Avengers noticed the change in both of you and were happy to see you both so content.

One night, after a long day of training, you and Wanda were curled up on the common room couch, watching a movie. When the credits rolled, Wanda turned to you, a thoughtful expression on her face.

"What are you thinking about?" you asked, brushing a strand of hair from her face.

"I was thinking about the future," she replied. "About us."

You felt warmth spread through your chest. "About us?"

"I want to build a life with you," she said softly. "I want us to be together, no matter what happens."

You smiled, pulling her closer.

"I want that too, Wanda. More than anything."

From that moment on, the two of you worked towards that future. You supported each other on missions, injuries, and the day-to-day challenges as Avengers. And through it all, the love you felt for each other only grew stronger.

Life as an Avenger was never easy, and there were times when stress and danger took their toll on both of you. But no matter how tough things got, you always had each other to lean on.

A particularly tough mission left both of you physically and emotionally exhausted. As you were together in the medical wing, tending to your injuries, Wanda held your hand.

"We'll get through this," she said firmly. "We always do."

You nodded, grateful for her strength.

"As long as we're together, I know we can face anything."

And face it you did. With every battle, every challenge, you faced it together. Your love for each other was a constant source of strength and comfort, a beacon of hope in the darkest times.

Years passed, and you and Wanda continued to build your lives together. You moved into a cozy apartment in the city, creating a home filled with love and laughter. Despite the demands of your roles as Avengers, you always made time for each other.

One night, as you were on the terrace, watching the sunset, Wanda turned to you with a smile.

"Remember our first sunset together?"

"How could I forget?" you replied, holding her hand. "It was the moment I knew I wanted to spend the rest of my life with you."

Wanda's smile widened, and she leaned in to kiss you. "I feel the same."

As the sun set, you knew that no matter what the future held, you and Wanda would face it together. Your love had stood the test of time, and you were ready for whatever came next.

Your life with Wanda was filled with countless moments of joy and celebration. From birthdays and parties to quiet nights spent together, each milestone was a testament to the love you shared.

On one particularly memorable anniversary, you decided to recreate your first date. You set up a picnic under the stars, just like that night many years ago. As you laid out the blanket and unpacked the food, Wanda's eyes sparkled with delight.

"This is perfect," she said, holding your hand. "Thank you for always making me feel special."

You smiled, pulling her close. "You are special, Wanda. Every moment with you is a gift."

As you lay side by side, looking up at the stars, you felt a deep sense of contentment. Your love for Wanda had only grown stronger over the years, and you knew that no matter what challenges came your way, you would always have each other.

As time went on, you continued to grow together, both as individuals and as a couple. You supported each other in new endeavors and challenges, always striving to be the best versions of yourselves.

One day, while working together on a new project, Wanda turned to you with a thoughtful expression.

"Have you ever wondered what the future holds for us?"

"All the time," you replied, smiling. "But I know that whatever happens, we'll face it together."

Wanda's eyes softened, and she reached out to hold your hand.

"I love you more than words can say, detka."

"I love you too, Wanda," you said, pulling her close. "And I always will."

Life had its ups and downs, and there were moments when the challenges seemed insurmountable. But through every trial, the two of you faced it all together, your love being a constant source of strength.

A particularly difficult period tested your resilience like never before. You had been trying to get pregnant, and it turns out that you couldn't. Wanda presented a certain difficulty with this. As you lay together, Wanda whispered words of comfort and reassurance.

"We'll get through this," you said firmly. "We always do."

Wanda nodded, her eyes filled with determination. "As long as we're together, I know we can face anything."

And face it you did. Through every storm, every setback, the love you felt for each other remained unwavering. You emerged stronger, more resilient, and more deeply in love than ever before.

As the years passed, your love for Wanda only deepened. At some point you realized your dream of being a mother. The twins, Billy and Tommy, filled your life with a light that you didn't know could exist. Logically, it brought another dynamic to your routine, but you learned to love every peculiarity of it.

With Wanda by your side, you knew you were capable of anything.

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff x you #elizabeth olsen x reader #elizabeth olsen x you #marvel #mcu

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americaswritings · 1 year ago

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Voices of Roses and Ruin | Part III

Warnings: mentions of violence, mentions of killing, mentions of torture, Coriolanus being himself

Summary: Coriolanus realizes he's still a part of the Capitol's games and that your life is the prize.

Words: around 3k

Pairing: Young Coriolanus Snow x reader

A/N: I never expected this to turn into a story, but here we are! I really hope you enjoy it!! Also I'm halfway through the book now and planning to watch the movie (in English then) again afterwards! I'm so excited!! :)

If you have ideas for Coriolanus oneshots I would love to hear from you (or if you just feel like ranting about the movie, the world of Panem, the characters, Tom Blyth...lol)

Can be read as Lucy Gray x Coriolanus Snow here

Part I | Part II | Masterlist

All Coriolanus had wanted was to follow you that night.

Seeing you in the arena had been painful. Watching them use his voice to torment you had been worse. And thinking he would never see you again had topped it all.

But watching you walk away from him? That was a new kind of pain.

Everyone left Coriolanus life. First his mother and his little sister. Then his father had followed. All he had left were the Grandma'am and Tigris, but it didn't feel that way with them so far away.

But here he could have you, if he allowed himself it. And God how he wanted to. His days as a peacekeeper were dull and lifeless, but you had brought colour and a flicker of hope into his life.

There had never been the choice between you and the scholarship, but suddenly there was and he didn't know how he could decide between the path he had always firmly believed was his and the girl he had never seen coming.

But there too many reasons holding him back. You belonged to different worlds. That would never change.

It was a cruel kind of knowledge.

Every time he tried to forget about you he awoke sweating. You haunted his dreams.

The look of betrayal on your face as you had realized he would return to the capitol. That even after he had admitted they had used his own voice to manipulate you, he would still go back and pretend it hadn't happened. That he was still the same boy.

He dreamed about your body. About sacred moments of peace and quiet the two of you, the outside world forgotten. About your laugh and the spark in your eyes and that you would fall asleep and wake up in his arms.

He dreamed about every scenario involving your death his brain seemed to come up with. Death in the arena. Death because he had manipulated your chances. Death because he had let you go.

When he heard Tigris voice for the first time since he had been sent to the districts over the phone the relief almost made him cry. He wished he could tell her about his conflicted emotions, but he couldn't risk anyone overhearing him.

Besides, he didn't know if he could ever admit to her the true extent of his feelings. It was embarrassing that of all people he had fallen for a weak girl from the district.

But you were so much more than that to him. It was why it had been so painful to watch you go. Because until that moment some part of him seemed to have hold onto the improbable hope that you would start a life in the capitol together.

As the winner of the games he had assumed it could be possible. That people respected you enough that he could be seen with you and that you wouldn't be forced to return to your life of shreds and dirt.

But you had shown him that this was no future you could ever imagine. And just as you weren’t willing to change for him, he couldn’t do it for you either. Even though you loved each other your love was not enough.

But then why did it hurt so much?

"Everything okay?", he asked Tigris to distract himself from his thoughts. It was another worry that made his heart heavy, the one for his family. Their money was still as tight and with him gone there was not much he could do for them now.

He earned too little, could barely pay for his own foot and housing. Was this how the people in the districts felt? Stuck in a constant loop of worry, fear and work that would never pay off? Unlike them he would never accept such a fate. Unlike them he didn’t belong here.

"We're okay." He heard an edge to Tigris voice, "but there's something you should know about."

His posture stiffened and he gazed around, making sure no one was there. "What is it?"

"Everyone's talking about you and the girl in the capitol." His fingers clenched around the steel. "What are they saying?"

"Never in the history of the games did the gamemakers ever do what they did there with your voice." "He was aware of it, so he waited for her to elaborate. "But why use your voice? The voice of her mentor. Why not someone from her family, someone she cares about?"

To hear Tigris say that you didn't care about him, that he was nothing more than your mentor hurt, but he pushed the anger away. "She doesn't really have family left. And she trusts me. So it makes sense."

"Then why did they only use it on her? Why didn't they try to manipulate anyone else?"

He let out an impatient sigh. "I don't know. They didn't tell me they would do it. But it was our task to make our tributes trust us and I was the only one who succeeded."

"But they didn't, Coryo."

Momentarily he forgot what he was about to say and took in a breath. What was Tigris implying? "It was your task to be a good mentor. Get the people's attention and make them root for her. But making her trust you was your decision."

"Didn't you tell me I should do it?" He sounded tired and accusing and he knew his cousin heard it in his voice. "Yeah, but I didn't expect-", she trailed of and he waited for her to continue, frustrated when he realized she wouldn't.

"She really trusts you, you know that, right?" He was growing more irritated with this conversation by the second. "I think I did a good job, if that's what you're asking."

"My God Coryo, that's not what I mean!" She exhaled loudly at the other side. "We all saw how scared she was for you. For her mentor. For someone from the capitol."

Her words were another reminder how different the two of you were. He hated it.

"We all saw that you care about her too. You kept visiting her. You two talked so much even when the cameras weren't near and everyone who was in the same room saw how terrified you were for her in the arena. And then, against all odds, she wins and you disappear without another word."

She was speaking softer now, probably expecting the defensiveness he felt rising in him. She knew him well. "They gave me a task. I did what I had to. That's all."

Tigris was silent for a moment. "Even if it were true, you did your job a little too well. The people are obsessed with it! With you and her, the idea of a love story between a mentor and their tribute. A Snow and the girl from ashes."

Tigris was speaking slowly, like she was afraid she was overwhelming him with the news and her tone was grave and serious. It was the polar opposite to the hope he felt.

It wasn't the narrative he would have chosen, but a story meant attention and attention meant relevance. If it was true and Tigris was right, they couldn't keep him hidden in the districts much longer.

People wouldn't just accept the two of you together, they would demand it.

His lips curled into a smile. He could have never imaged a better way to get out of here and to convince you to come with him. What reason did you have to say no now?

"Then why do you sound so fearful?"

Tigris took in a deep breath.

"It's the people that love it. You know how they are, always looking for gossip and a good story to keep them entertained enough to forget about their own miserable lives. But-", she paused, "the people are not the capitol. Everyone who's got something to say in Panem hates it. It sends the wrong message, Coryo. That the people from the capitol and the people from the district could be equals. The whole point of the hunger games is to demonstrate supremacy and power. They don't want a girl from a district turning into a star and having a sweet little romance with one of their own."

His smile faded. He felt his heart pounding in his chest and suddenly the room was too small, the walls to high. With each second it was getting harder to breathe. The uniform- he needed to get out of this damn uniform!

"Coryo?"

Tigris voice sounded far away as he struggled between losing himself to his fears and keeping a composed and prideful image.

He had realized the situation he was in was far from ideal before, but having the capitol, the very people he needed to impress as his enemy could- no would destroy his whole life!

And yours too.

The future he had just seen before his eyes ruined by words of love.

"What do you think they'll-", he still couldn't catch his breath. He needed these peoples on his side, not against him. How had he ended up here, so useless and powerless?

No! He needed to keep it together! He would get through this, like he always did. He would find a way to make this work for him or if there was none, he would come up with something else...

He was smart and his name still meant something. Snow always lands on top.

"I don't know what they’ll do." Tigris answered his question without him having to finish it. The worry in her voice did nothing to quieten his own. "But it's only a matter of time until they will have to act. I just- I wanted to warn you, Coryo."

He nodded, more to himself than her. "I will be fine." He had regained his composure and his voice was perfectly emotionless.

"I am worried for you. I think they might try to-"

He would never find out, if Tigris suspicions had been right, because before she could finish her sentence the call cut off.

Had they listened again?

Was he even safe here anymore?

Two more days passed before they came for him.

Two days he had spent pondering his choices yet felt no confidence as he stepped in front of the commander. His posture was as straight and effortless as always, so one would have guessed he was secretly far from calm.

He had expected to meet his superior in an official building, something elegant, if that even existed in the districts, but instead he was led to a distant part of a warehouse, where the lights flickered and spider webs hung heavy.

Coriolanus saluted in front of the man, then waited patiently for him to speak. He hoped no one could see past his guard, noticed how fast his heart was beating.

"I was informed about certain rumours circling the streets of the capitol these days. I take it you have heard about them too?"

He gave a short nod, forcing his face to remain blank. The man, who he assumed to be in his late fifties took a step closer. His hair was completely grey, except for one white strand. It gave him an upper look that didn't suit the scenery of the district.

Was he from the capitol? He wasn't dressed like it though; he was wearing the peacekeeper uniform, but something told Coriolanus it was a disguise of his real power. The capitol liked their games.

"So what do you think?"

"I think-", he began, but his voice got interrupted by a painfilled scream. His eyes flickered to the door, but it was locked, either side guarded by a peacekeeper. None of them moved and when he turned back to the commander he simply weaved his hand, urging him to continue.

Coriolanus swallowed, taken off-guard by the noise but pulling himself together. "I think it's just that- rumours. Eventually the public will take an interest in different news."

"Ahh, so you don‘t think such a narrative could have an impact on the political climate both in the districts and the caption? That it could send the wrong image?“

Coriolanus pressed his lips together. “I believe-“, but again a cry disrupted his attempt at an answer. It could not be a coincidence that they had chosen this place to talk to him. It had probably been arranged to shaken his composure and unsettle him. He hated to admit that it worked.

It was probably just a thief, paying for her sins. No one that deserved his attention. Yet it was unnerving, a subtle reminder just how quickly he could manoeuver himself into the same position.

“Oh don‘t tell me that’s bothering you?” The man in front of him raised his brows. “You should be familiar with the sound of traitors. So what is it you wanted to say?“

Coriolanus straightened his shoulders, but this time the sound was louder, clearer. It was a scream that cut through the air and it was one he knew too well.

No.

“Mr. Snow, what was it you were saying?“

He blinked in irritation and straightened his shoulders when he realized his loss of posture.

“I was saying that the capitol could own it. Make it their own narrative. A tribute developing…an infatuation“, he felt sick, “with her mentor could be-“ Another scream. He felt his composure crumble. The man tilted his head. He was silently laughing about him, Coriolanus was certain about it. “…helpful“, he finished, clearly distracted by the background noises.

They sounded too familiar, had been the sound of his many nightmares and a silent fear crept up his spine.

What if this was real? What if it wasn‘t his mind playing tricks on him, making everything about you? Seeing, hearing you everywhere..

“So you affirm that this- infatuation as you call it is one-sided and you hold no feelings for you tribute?“

Coriolanus lifted his chin. “I merely did my job. I earned the public’s attention and got them interested in the games again. I turned a tribute with no chances into a winner.“

“So you‘re saying the girl doesn‘t mean anything to you?“

He put on a smile that didn‘t reach his eyes. “I assure you and everyone in the capitol that I do not have any connection to the girl beyond the mentorship and that I have no interest or care for her fate now that I completed my task.“

He had always tried to mask the truth or bend it when he felt he needed to, but lying was a different kind of game. One he felt he was losing.

He could tell himself he did this to protect you. But the reality was that he didn’t know if he did.

No, he had to think of his own life now. It was better this way. He had helped save your life once. Now it was time for you to walk your own path.

“Coriolanus!“ He flinched. It was too late to pretend he hadn‘t, everyone had seen it, but he couldn‘t not react when he heard your desperate voice calling his name.

This whole time his instinct had told him that he was right. That the sounds belonged to you and this was more than just a set-up to unnerve him.

It was a trap.

“What is this?“ His voice came out too sharp and he willed himself to remain calm, but it was impossible, if you were here and you were hurt.

“Oh, it should not be of concern for you as you just told us you do not have any interest in the girl‘s fate.“

Had he just said that? In his head it had sounded much more- convincing. But hearing his own words reflected back to him just made him realise how pathetic they sounded.

They could not be farer from the truth.

“As her mentor I would like to know what you are accusing her of“, he tried a different approach, but it was senseless.

“Oh but Mr. Snow, she is not your tribute anymore. Like you said there is no connection between you and the girl.“

His commander took a step towards him. “Now tell me, which one is the lie?“

Coriolanus swallowed. It took all of him to stand still and keep himself from running after your voice. His body was trembling from the effort. Too long he had been trapped behind a screen, unable to do anything to help you.

But here he could.

Another scream broke the silence. Despite his will he flinched again and closed his eyes for a moment, willing himself to stay strong, remain unaffected. But with each sound he felt himself losing control and a hatred took over his instinct.

“I personally believe you have been lying to us for a long time now, Coriolanus. I can see it on your face. But I would like to hear it out of your own mouth.“

Another step closer. Another cry.

“Say it.“

Coriolanus clenched his jaw, his hands balling into fists.

“SAY IT!“

His fist connected with the man’s jaw before he could even think about what he was doing. He saw the other two peacekeepers at the door reaching for their weapons, but he was faster and had shot them with his own in an instant.

Without another look at them he ran for the door, following your pleas. His heart was racing as he raced through the corridors and tried to locate where it was coming from.

Hopefully he wasn‘t too late. No, he couldn‘t think like that! Yet the thought of what he might get to see tore at him. He should have acted sooner, he should have- killed these men before they even got the chance to open their mouths. It had been a lost game from the beginning and he was done being their paying piece.

“Coriolanus!“

He had almost made it. Just another room…

Coriolanus pushed it open with so much force that the door crashed against the wall and broke out of its hinges.

Breathing heavily and sweating he came to an abrupt stop and took in the room. It was small, dimly lit, empty. He took a step forward, his eyes fixed on the only thing in the room. It was a table and on it-

A cage with a bird.

Part IV

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aangelinakii · 5 months ago

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DREADFUL WINGS.

— why won't he just drop you?

summary : ever since jason todd had gone rogue, your affiliate, batman, hired you to go undercover into his hidden mob ring to find out what he's planning for gotham. you need to seduce him, but when he actually falls, you decide you want out.

not proofread !

note : this fic contains a female reader, but almost all of my other works are gender neutral, so check out those if that's what you're looking for, or send in a request so i can cater closer to what you'd like !!

second much more casual note : i kind of got writers block like halfway through this so i kind of feel like it declined in quality throughout, so soz about that guysssss :P

third note i thought of when i almost finished writing : thiz turned iut to be a crack fic LOL enjoy

you'd been an associate of the batman ever since he'd seen you out on the field; it had been one versus almost eleven, and you'd taken each one down wirh skill, even when two or more tried to tag-team. it was impressive, and so he'd taken you in as a trainee of sorts; not enough to be family, but enough to have earned their respect.

it had been brought to both you and the bat's attention that his gone-rogue son, jason todd, had been spotted after months.

video and photo evidence showed him engaging in suspicious activity with some of gotham's most dangerous cartel leaders, and it didn't appear that he was taking order from them. no, it appeared that he was the one making the orders.

gone for ten months, and jason'd already made his way up the ranks of the crime underworld. he needed to be stopped, but there was no way he would listen to bruce wayne. even in disguise, he knew him too well. so bruce needed you.

going into it, you knew it would be a long-term job. you wouldn't be able to contact friends or family for as long as it took to create a bond with the leader, jason, and to get him to reveal information to you about his plans.

then you would be out and gone far.

for the job, you'd dyed and cut your hair, changed your makeup and clothing style completely, going from relaxed, casual clothes, to professional attire, and darker makeup. you were completely unrecognisable, and excited to go back to normal.

who knew what a real mobster was supposed to look like? the only ones you'd busted had half their face torn off, or wore a black mask.

when you first started, completely a new person, you began to frequent a bar jason was said to favour, and sometimes made deals in the back of. bruce had given you some cash ("some" being an understatement) to spend whilst under this guise, so none of your transactions went to your personal bank account, and you'd begun using a fair sum of it to pay for a drink to nurse each evening for a week.

on the final friday, you were beginning to grow bored. you were sitting in a bar on the other end of town to your apartment – the dodgy side – without a person to talk to, and those who did, were drunk men with missing teeth who tried to buy you a drink.

until the stool beside you squealed against the floor as it was pulled out. from the corner of your eye, you glanced over at them, clutching your whiskey on the rocks closer to you.

black hair, single white streak at the front, cross-shaped scar along his cheekbone. big hands, knuckles bruised, scared forearms on display beneath a rolled-up white button-up. this had to be your guy. there was no way it couldn't be.

when he ordered his drink, a deep-coloured scotch, he pressed a few bills on the counter. "keep the change," he gravelled as the barkeep gave a hum at the extra money.

no men in this area of gotham would let their change be kept behind the bar; each of them would never every bit of those coins to buy even more drinks, or drugs, or whatever they find on the side of the streets here.

this was a man who was confident in the dollars he owned. someone who pressed k in return for money. and now you just had to get in.

lifting your glass to your lips, you turned to him quietly, a glint in your eye. noting your shift, he looked up at you, still nursing his stout glass.

"you doin' all right tonight?" he offered coolly, voice a deep concoction of gotham street accent.

a hummed laugh brushed past your lips, curling them into a soft smile. "you could say that," you replied, insinuating a flirt.

and that was the beginning of it. slowly, after then, you – well, the slightly fabricated version of you – and jason began to form a relationship. at first, it was as simple as coincidentally meeting each other back at that bar, but then him taking you out every few nights.

he questioned you a few times what you did for a day job, so you opted for getting employed at a bookshop in the nicer end of town. when you asked him about his work, he was incredibly vague.

after a few months of meeting up at a restaurant or a bar, or wherever, and learning more about each other – although you'd had to revise your elaborate, false backstory, and you knew he was not telling the whole truth about his – jason finally asked you to stay round his apartment.

it was nerve-wracking, the entire idea of it. you'd faced worse things than this; actually, one time the penguin had shot you in the back, and that was quite bad. surely something like this shouldn't be so scary. for all you knew, you weren't even a real person; you were entirely made-up in this form of yourself. but he didn't know that.

as you showed up on his doorstep, looking nervously up and down the corridor at the other run-down apartments, you gave a light knock on the door, half hoping he wouldn't be home.

on the other hand, jason knew he shouldn't have gotten so attached. for one, it could get you in danger. knowing his line of work, having absolutely any personal connections could give any rivals the upper hand against him. secondly, this whole thing went against his own moral code; keeping himself safe.

he thought he knew better, not adoring the flow of your hair, the quirk of your lip when he said something in an attempt to be funny, the way you didn't let things get to his head, like your down-played aforementioned reaction to his jokes.

he thought, after everything he had experienced leading up to now, that his heart would be heavier chained-up. but you'd managed to unlock it.

tonight, he was going to make it official, despite everything else telling him not to.

when he pulled the door open, you immediately tried to thaw the frigidness of your nerves, and force a smile as genuine as you could. if this was what you had to do in order to get bruce his information, then surely you would. as long as he paid you when you get back.

"hey, i'm glad you made it," he smiled, gravelly voice the most genuine you'd ever heard it, and he pulled you in with one muscular arm into a hug, whilst his other hand closed the door behind you.

"yeah, of course," you chuckled, trying to cloak your unease with a smile as you returned the half-hug. "i wouldn't miss it for the world."

jason pulled away, and stopped for a moment to size you up with a smile. his broad frame had been fitted with a black t-shirt, which hugged him in all the right places. "i made dinner," he hummed as he turned to walk you into his apartment, and, surely, the scent of rich bolognese filled your senses.

his apartment was quaint, if not slightly messy, but you could tell jason'd made at least a little effort to clean it up a bit. but a messy guy is always messy, which you'd learned in a previous almost-relationship.

as the two of you reached his small dining table, he pulled your chair out for you before walking around to sit opposite you. the aromatic plates of spaghetti bolognese had already been laid out before each chair. the effort he'd gone to tonight was sweet... but this wasn't what you wanted.

nerves kicked in.

"this isn't my natural hair colour, you know," you blurted out, fingers curling tightly around the stem of the fork beside your plate. eyes wide, you stared on at jason opposite you, who returned the look with a bemused glint in his eye.

he gave a shrug, twirling his fork in his spaghetti, which wove around the prongs like thread in a spindle. "okay?" he hummed, slight chuckle in his tone. "what does that have to do with dinner?"

perhaps if you just tried to be as off-putting as possible, he would ask you to leave.

a few beats passed, and you lifted your fork into the food with a shake of your head. "dunno, just in case that wasn't something you'd be into."

"doesn't matter," he spoke, food half-full of bolognese.

now, what was something that would put off a literal mob boss? right!

"you know, i swear, too. quite a lot," you piped up again after a moment, shovelling some spaghetti into your mouth. damn, that man could cook. "and i know some guys find that unattractive."

some sort of snort came from the man across the table as he began to twirl a new mountain of spaghetti, and he looked up at you with a bemused glint in his eye. "you do realise i, myself have the mouth of a sailor? that doesn't matter to me."

there had to be something that ticked him off.

a few more beats passed, and you'd already eaten half your plate, the nerves catching up to you quickly.

after swallowing your mouthful, you placed your fork back down against the rim of the plate, and looked back over at jason. "i haven't told you about my past," you abruptly spoke. "i'm not sure you would want me to come back here if i ever told you."

with this, jason gave a deep breath, and put down his fork. with a sigh, he leaned back in his chair to assess you, green eyes piercing and scrutinising.

"there's a lot i haven't told you, either," he breathed after a moment, leaning forward, resting his elbows on the tabletop. "a lot i've experienced in my life that i'm not proud of, that i wish could have gone... differently. but that doesn't matter to me. whatever happened in your past doesn't change who you are to me now."

for god's sake, why wouldn't he just kick you out of his apartment? each moment you stayed seated at his dinner table, the more you itched to leave, ached to blurt out your true intention.

barely a second had passed when a switch had flipped inside of you entirely, and suddenly you had tears streaming down your face. (that would be another $50 for the hysterics, bruce.) immediately, jason's expression dropped, one of worry and confusion. "what's wrong?"

your face fell into your hands, hiding the crocodile tears spilling from your eyes. "i can't give you children!" you wailed, uttering the first thing you could think of.

jaw cranked open, eyebrows creased, jason gingerly reached out to brush his fingers over your wrist. "i– where did children ever come into the equation? we're just having dinner. i don't care about children right now. not at all!"

and, almost as quickly as they came, your hysterics had halted, and you looked up from your hands, mascara inevitably smeared beneath your eyes. "okay," you stated. "i'll cut the shit."

with one swift movement, you stood to your feet, the chair you'd been sitting on squeaking against the floor. jason pulled away, sitting back in his own chair, eyes peering at you expectantly and curiously.

"i know why you asked me round tonight."

jason nodded slowly. "isn't it obvious?" he quipped, although his tone had grown wary.

"but i can't date you, jason," you stated, fists clenching by your sides. "because i'm not the person you think i am. really. everything i said is untrue, apart from the hair."

as he peered at you, jason's eyes narrowed, as if piecing everything together in his mind.

"i'm here to find out information about your drug ring, which i know all about. i knew about it from the start, from the first moment i saw you, and even before. i just needed to wait for you to trust me."

his mouth had fallen slightly ajar, eyebrows furrowing as he stared on at you. after a moment, the cogs turning in his head, his mouth closed, and he swallowed the dryness away before speaking. "well..." he sighed. "nobody's perfect."

#aangelinakii #dc #dc comics #dc reactions #dc imagines #dc headcanons #dc universe #jason todd #jason todd x reader #jason todd reactions #jason todd imagines #EVILLL JASONNNN ( but not really don't be deceived )#dc au #jason todd au #afab reader

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lyzelky · 2 months ago

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The Crate

*Walks into room, collapses on face* It's been 3000 years but I finally finished it. Here you go! (If you noticed the artstyle changed halfway through, no you didn't, lmao) A comic featuring Astarion shooting his shot, and Tav missing the point entirely. Also a bonus snippet of my long fic where this comic is inspired by!

Local asshole already smitten, just doesn't realize it yet.

"Come on,” She says brightly to Astarion, “I think I saw some crates this way.” She half expects the elf to whine and request to rest alongside the others, but surprisingly he does as she asks. “So…what exactly, are we looking for?” He asks as she navigates her way towards a small pile of boxes. “Food, water… medicine, hopefully a bedroll or two.” She shrugs and opens one eagerly, only to wilt in disappointment when all she finds is rags. "Are you going to help or just stand there, by the way?” Astarion has not moved to actually assist with any of the actual searching; instead he’s chosen to lean against a nearby wall and observe. “I’m not just…standing here,” He scoffs, “I’m keeping watch.” “On what?” She asks flatly, “Afraid that there’s going to be some more gnomes with knives in these boxes?” This actually pulls a small huff of laughter from him. “No darling, but I am keeping an eye on you.” She opens another box and scowls down at it’s junk contents before what he’s said hits her. Tav looks up at him, mostly confused and honestly a little hurt. “I… Do you think I’m going to steal supplies, or something?” He’s still wearing that smirk— but at her question something in it falters, one sculpted brow quirking as he considers her. “…No, darling. I don’t think you’ve got that in you.” His tone is for once quite matter-of-fact, and tinged with the barest hint of amusement. Coupled with the strange way he continues to stare at her, it becomes increasingly apparent that some type of social cue has soared clear over her head.

Thank you all for reading!! So glad to have this done with, it was literally keeping me up at night. I've got some more stuffed planned, though maybe not as long as this, lol.

#bg3 #bg3 tav #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 fanart #my art #tiefling #tav #dnd #bg3 fanfiction #astarion ancunin #astarion x tav #tav x astarion #tavstarion #baldurs gate tav #baldurs gate 3

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writingsbychlo · 1 year ago

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SWEET LIKE SUGAR | 03

summary; your first introductions don't go as planned, putting a dampener on some otherwise good news.

word count; 12,179

notes; y'all's patience for this has been incredible, it really has been a criminal amount of time since the last update. hopefully the next one comes sooner lol but enjoy!!

The many shopping bags dangling from your arms rustled as you hurried up the front steps of the new house you called home. Over a week had passed, a full week of your new life that was still taking some effort to get used to, and yet, things finally seemed to be looking up.

Clutched in your hands, the most prized of every new acquisition you’d made today. No matter how many paper bags filled with new clothes and decor hung from your tired arms, the small bakery box with four cupcakes inside was by far the best. This time next week, you’d be serving the cupcakes.

A real job, earning your own money, to pay your own way.

It was almost shocking, just how quickly your life had changed, how right Azriel had been about it. Doors that would have been shut to you as soon as you registered the house to be billed to, the district you’d lived in, were all open now. Sneers and stares had been swapped for smiles and polite greetings, and although you hated that prejudice had existed at all, Azriel was right.

You couldn't wait to tell him so.

Clearing the final few steps and teetering up the porch, the door swung open free of latch or key when you twisted the doorknob. Azriel was home, then.

You had hardly kicked off your shoes beside the door in your excitement, toeing it shut, when the voices from the living room finally met your ears. Your head was still spinning, nothing in you telling you to halt, or to consider just who the people Azriel might be meeting with were, before you were spinning around that corner, smile on your face, and coming face to face with the High Lord and the Commander of the Court’s armies.

Their gazes moved to you, Azriel’s back to you but he finally turned to look over his shoulder, the room falling silent as all attention moved to you, and your throat bobbed at the weight of it. Cassian shuffled on the couch, and Rhysand only adjusted the angle he was perched at on the arm, to look further around Azriel at you. His stare was piercing, assessing, and you found yourself shrinking under it a little, clearing your throat and dragging your gaze to your housemate.

“I’m so sorry for interrupting. I’ll come back later, Az. I’ll just head upstairs.” Your palms were sweating, but it didn’t feel right to just ignore the other people in the room, not when their presences alone were so powerful they practically filled it. Setting down one arm’s worth of shopping bags and the boxes of pastries carefully, you padded to the centre of the room, holding your hand out halfway between them. “High Lord, General. My apologies, again. It has been an honour to meet you both, though.”

Neither moved, both just stared, your arm trembling for just a second as the moment dragged on, and neither moved to shake your hand. After too many silent seconds, heat rose to your cheeks, and you pulled your hand back, stepping backwards a couple of steps. Perhaps it had been too informal, perhaps you’d offended them in some way, but when Rhysand gave a huff that sounded displeased, you were sure it wasn’t just you sensing the tension anymore.

“An honour, I’m sure.” The High Lord muttered, your eyes widening a little, gaze shooting to Azriel as he stepped up to your side, slipping the other bags from your hands as that one began to shake too, and setting them down with the rest.

“Rhysand!” Azriel snapped, a tone in his voice that you’d never heard before, and the shock of it only sent another bout of anxiousness coursing through you. “Be polite.”

His brother only shrugged casually, like he’d been asked the weather forecast, and picked at one of his cuticles, bored. “I am being polite. As polite as I can be, anyway.”

It was a lie, thick and heavy as that penetrating violet stare found you again. You’d heard the rumours, about how charming the High Lord of Night could be, and this certainly was not him. You tried another smile anyway, and shied your gaze away from the Lord to the General. He didn’t return it, only crossing his impressive arms over a powerful chest, his size a terrifying display, only made worse by his own glare.

Clammy sweat began to bead along your back, and you shuffled a little closer to Azriel’s side. His arm pressed to your own, the back of his palm brushing yours as it hung at his side, and it was enough comfort to at least take one deep lungful of air, before your ruler spoke again; “What is it that you want?”

“Huh?” It was impolite, and informal, but you were confused, the sound tumbling from you faster than you could stop it, and you only winced at the slight tensing of the man who’d asked it. His companion only snarled at your accidental impertinence.

“Cass…” Azriel growled back, low and under his breath, his fingers threading gently through your own. You clung to him, so tight you were sure you’d cut off blood flow, your knuckles likely white, but you needed him to anchor you right now.

“What, Azriel?” The tension was so thick it was stifling, you could hardly breathe. Your muscles were wound tight to stop your whole body from shaking, a nervous response, and yet somehow, you still felt like you were going to shatter at any moment. “You got yourself a fucking sugar baby! Excuse me for being concerned about what she actually wants from you!”

“She is not a sugar baby!” Your head spun, your body swaying a little, and you could’ve cried merely at Azriel’s defence of you. You could cry right now, anyway. Your tongue felt heavy in your mouth, every word forming too slowly in your head to stand up for yourself, to even understand what was going on. Thinking alone merely felt like wading through treacle, right now.

“So, you didn’t give her the money for whatever is in those shopping bags, then?” Rhysand waved a lazy hand at your purchases, your face flushing once again, and Cassian raised a brow in a challenge, both standing united against Azriel in their questioning. Against you.

Yes, technically, you supposed Azriel did pay, but—

“That’s what I thought.” Rhysand sneered, cutting off your line of thought, and Azriel growled once again, a deeper sound, a more predatory warning. “Stay the fuck out of her head, Rhys.”

“My head?” Your squeak was embarrassing but you were too overwhelmed to care. Rhysand only scoffed, brushing invisible lint from his shoulder while Cassian rolled his eyes. Your stomach was rolling over, and you felt like the very air was being squeezed from your lungs, emotions clogging and stinging at your throat. Under their watchful eye, you’d never felt so small, so insecure, so powerless.

“Picture a wall building around your mind.” Azriel’s voice had softened, his breath brushing over your hairline, and you wanted to turn to him, to sink into his honeyed gaze where you knew you’d find a friend, in hopes it would calm the visible full body shakes now, bring you back into your own skin. But, you couldn't look away, feeling like you were stuck on the High Lord, unable to even move. “Picture it. Don’t focus on anything else, brick by brick, build that wall. Keep building it, thicker and thicker. Work on it until they leave, I’ll explain later.”

A jerky nod was the best you could manage, and Azriel left a kiss on your temple on confirmation as you mentally laid down the first few bricks.

“This is none of your business.” His voice hardened again, and you lost focus, cursing yourself mentally as you lost it all, the wall crumbling to dust in your mind’s eye. You could feel it, then. Feel that presence, the one that made you feel like you were being pushed out of your one body, the cramped feeling.

He was there, embarrassment flooding you at how flawlessly he witnessed your internal struggle. He didn’t even try to prove at your thoughts again, just watching you struggle from inside your own mind, like it was nothing to him at all.

Grasping Azriel’s hand with your other, clutching it in both now, he flexed his fingers reassuringly to you, and you tried again to do as you’d been told. One full wall, and when Rhysand finally looked away from you, you were able to snap your mind to the carpet, staring at the floor by your bare feet instead.

“It certainly is my business. If she’s manipulating you, we’re all at risk!”

Your flinch at his shout was unstoppable. You were so wary of his powers, so frightened of Cassian sitting on the couch—

“She should be wary of my abilities, she should be terrified of Cassian!” His gaze turned back to you when you looked in horror, and you could feel the faint trickles of his horrid amusement as you realised once again you’d lost focus, lost that wall. You blinked back tears, unwilling to sink that low before them, to fall any further in their eyes.

In your peripherals, Cassian’s arms uncrossed and he shuffled, but you were locked once again, having made the mistake to look at Rhysand again, and being unable to move away. Shadows twisted at your legs, your arms, your joined hands, drifting off of him in cool and calming waves, binding you to him, comforting you silently. You moved your attention back to that wall once again.

“Whatever she did to you, Az, tell us! Whatever she’s holding over you, we can get you out of it, we can help you!” The warlord only grunted his agreement, shattering your focus with a single sound. And so, you started again.

Silence. Silence dragged on longer this time, longer than any moment before.

Azriel’s wings ruffled as he pulled them in closer, his hand tightened around your own. “It was my idea.”

“What?” They both spoke at once, incredulous and unbelieving. But you dragged in a shaky breath at the shift of power in the room, just for a split second, as he cough them off guard with his declaration.

“It was my idea,” Azriel said again, with that lethal, icy calm. Azriel tucked you a little closer to him, a little behind his body, shielding you from them with a wing. “It was my idea to walk her home that night, it was my idea to bring her back here. It was me who convinced her to stay after she found out who I was. It was me who took her into my bed. It was me who made the offer.”

Silence, again. You’d once loved silence, now, you hated the way it felt like it was crawling across your skin, burrowing into the cracks and seeping through pores.

“It was all me.”

That statement settled over the room, only seeming to heighten everything, until you were sure the sound of your heart pounding was drawing out everything else, even the bustle from the streets outside. Finally, Rhysand snarled a sound of utter disgust.

“This is ridiculous, Azriel! Can’t you see that?” Azriel did not deign to reply, and when the room became stagnant, the air almost unbreathable, it seemed the conversation had come to an end. Standing and sliding his hands into his pockets, Rhysand took a few steps closer to you both. Azriel tucked you further behind his back as Cassian followed. “Fine. Do as you please, Azriel. Let’s see how the rest of the family reacts at dinner on Saturday.”

With little else, Rhysand stalked past, not even bothering a sigh in your direction. Meaningless, inconsequential, nothing. That’s what you were to him. Cassian lingered, and you dared not to look up this time, before hearing him follow only a second later, the front door slamming shut behind him. Two sets of wings took off into the air a second later, and as they went, the heaviness in the room seemed to be sucked right out with them.

When the beating of wings finally faded, Azriel dropped your hand, spinning to you. Your face was cupped in two warm hands, guided up to meet his panicked gaze, and you still felt a little numb, shaking yourself out all the way down to your fingers, as if to regain control of your body.

“I’m so sorry. Fuck, that was awful. I didn’t want you to come back to that, that’s not what I wanted to happen at all. I’m so sorry about them. Are you okay?” Azriel’s rambling came with a tremble to his own hands, and he leaned down, brushing a delicate kiss across both of your heat-stained cheeks. Sliding your hands up to cover his on your face, you finally nodded.

“Your friends don’t seem to like me very much.” You finally choked out, voice raw like you’d been singing at the top of your lungs for hours, or screaming over a crowd, and Azriel gave an equally raspy laugh. His only response was sliding his hands to your waist, and tugging you into his chest, a tight embrace.

“I don’t know why.”

“It’s okay.” You sighed, burying your face into his chest, feeling the siphon under his clothes pull with a power. “It makes sense. They think I’m using you.”

“They didn’t even let me explain! They just assume I was weak enough to let a beautiful woman manipulate me. It makes me feel like they don’t trust me, at all.” Your heart fluttered at his words, even if they were spoken with rage and anger, they still held sweetness for you, and you squeezed him once more, before stepping back from his arms, just a little.

He was all but shaking with rage, and you rolled onto your tiptoes, leaving a kiss to match the ones he’d given you upon his cheek, and he tried his best to give a small smile. It looked more like a grimace, but you appreciated it nonetheless. “Let me show you what I bought today, would that cheer you up?”

“Yes.” He mumbled, but finally came a genuine smile from him, even if it was tiny, it was something.

Scooping up the bags for you, you were left only with the small bakery box, waving it lightly in your hands as he carried your begs further into the room and placing them beside the coffee table. “This is a little treat for us later, I hope you have a sweet tooth,”

Azriel shrugged, lips pressed shut, and you were sure a soft pink was forming on his cheekbones. “I like sweet things.”

Your eyes narrowed on him a little, closing the space between you both until you were pinching his cheek, his blush deepening as he scowled, pushing your hand away when you giggled. “Oh, so tough. Big bad spymaster, I bet you love desserts and pastries and sugar.”

“I like it a normal amount.” He deflected, catching your other hand by the wrist when you lifted it to his other cheek, and pinning them both at your sides. The scowl melted into a smile, despite how hard he tried, and your grin only stretched wider. “Oh, shut up. You should be grateful, if I didn’t like sweet things so much, you wouldn't be here!”

It was your turn to blush, your jaw dropping a little as heat crawled over your face. He raised both hands, pinching your cheek and shaking your face side to side. When you slapped his hands away, he only laughed.

“Not so fun, is it?”

“Shut it, shadowsinger.”

His grin only got wider, and he reached for a bag, swiping up whichever his fingers found first and holding it out to you. Taking it from him after putting down the pastry box, you opened up the paper bag, peering inside at whatever you’d purchased. Fishing out the first item, you presented it to him, his brows crawling up.

“Table mats!”

“Table mats?” He repeated, taking the bundle from you and tugging lightly at the twine string holding them shut. The set of eight opened up after the strings came loose, and he examined each one. A lightwood mat, with the mountain range of the Night Court carved into the surface of each one, clean and beautiful polished wood under his fingertips. “I like them.”

“Yeah?”

You could only smile, pulling out the next item, one that matched. “Good, because I also got matching coasters!” On each coaster, one mountain sat with the three stars carved over the top, the crest of their Court, and he rubbed his thumb across it. “They’re perfect.”

“I also bought some mugs!”

“I have mugs.” You only scoffed, beginning to root through the bags on the floor beside the table until one clinked, the cups and saucers inside.

“You have… very simplistic mugs.” His arms crossed over his chest.

“Because they’re plain white and aren’t weirdly shaped?” Producing the mugs and saucers, his lips pressed together to conceal a laugh. “What are those?”

“Mugs and saucers!”

“Saucers are supposed to be around, not square! And why are the mugs striped?” He took one from your hands, inspecting it closely. “A mug is a functional item, why does it have a quote painted on the front?”

He turned it around, forcing you to look at the words across the front, the exact reason you’d chosen it, and your answering beam seemed to answer his question.

“‘I’m not arguing, I’m just explaining why I’m right’. Really?”

“Now look at mine!” You handed it over to him, yours with blue polka-dots instead of stripes, and he gagged loudly as he read the words.

“‘Follow your dreams, they know the way’? That’s awful.” He threw it, the mug bouncing across the couch cushions, and you caught it just before it could fall to the floor, loud bursts of laughter spilling from your lips as he shook his head. “You can’t live here anymore. You have to get out. Right now. And take your terrible mugs with you.”

“But there’s more!”

“More?” He groaned, loudly, head tipping back, and when you leaned in to jab at his shoulder, he grabbed your arm, tugging you closer. Your squeal was lost to laughter as he pinched at your side instead, stealing your intended attack and making you squirm, checking him with your hip as he did it again, an inch higher. “How many more will you inflict upon my poor cupboards?”

“I got four in total!” His assault stopped after the third pinch, your back to his chest as his arm banded around your body, holding you there until the giggles faded. “I promise, I have other stuff, stuff you’ll like.”

“How can I possibly trust your taste, now?”

“I’m here with you, aren’t I? I must have reasonably decent taste, at least.” The pinching started again, until you squirmed away to the floor, gasping for breath and kicking at his ankles as you swiped for the next bag. “You’re a menace!”

“Yeah, yeah. Let’s just see the next bag.”

Despite his insults of your mugs and plates, you couldn't bring yourself to care, because that tension had slipped out of his shoulders once again, and he was smiling. Smiling like he’d never known a trouble in the world, smiling like nothing had gone wrong today. As he sank to kneel before you on the floor, you fetched the next bag, setting it between your bodies.

And so, the next several hours followed, the world melting away as you went through each purchase, showing Azriel everything from new candles that smelled like pumpkins and spices, to a throw blanket for the bed, to a new set of notebooks and pens.

Your new clothes had been folded and set in piles, and you left Azriel to wash and put away your ‘interesting’ kitchenware as you carried your new clothes up to your drawers. You’d never owned so much in the way of lovely clothes, the fabric and weaving market of Velaris were like nothing you’d ever seen before.

When you reemerged, Azriel was standing in the living room, hands on his hips and staring at the floor. His brows were furrowed a little bit, all the empty bags had been picked up and were now sitting in a stack in his armchair, the considerable number threatening to topple over. He looked a little overwhelmed, rubbing a hand across his jaw, and your lip caught between your teeth as you stepped into the doorway.

“Is it too much?”

“What?” His hand returned to his hip from his jaw, as his gaze moved to you.

Waving a hand idly around in a motion of the house, you gave a small smile. “Everything I bought, is it too much?”

His eyes widened slightly, before he was making his way across the room, shaking his head. He stared for a second, frozen in motion but you could see the thoughts flicking through his eyes, before finally, he gave a heavy sigh; “I’ve never had matching mugs with someone before. My chest is tight.”

Your thoughts halted for a moment, a vulnerable look on his face as you studied him, his fingers twitching by his sides anxiously as he held your stare. Rubbing a hand over his chest for something to do, you took his hand in both of your own, rubbing your thumbs across the back of his palm. “That’s so cute, Az.”

“It’s cute?” His cheeks were growing redder by the second, and you squeezed his hand, “It’s pathetic.”

“It’s not pathetic! I’ve never had matching mugs with someone either.” He only rolled his eyes, but his fingers finally curled around your own.

“It’s not just the mugs. The mugs are a metaphor.” That furrow was back between his brows, the blush spreading down his jaw, and you rubbed that crease softly with one finger.

“I know. I’ve never had the metaphor, either.”

Silence fell between you both, and Azriel’s blush finally went down, until he no longer wore that expression, but was relaxed once again. His hand tightened around yours, tugging you forward, through the living room. “I laid out the rug.”

“The rug?” Your gaze fell to where he’d been standing, the new woven rug made from the softest materials you’d ever encountered was now laid out beneath the coffee table, centred perfectly before the chairs and the couch. “My rug. That was for my room.”

“What?”

“The rug, you don’t have to put it down here. I don’t want to change your whole house, Az. I just bought a coupla’ things, things I thought would make you chuckle, like the cheesy mugs.”

“But it looks so good here.” With another step, he was on the rug bare feet digging into the threads, and tugging you forward, too. Toeing off your shoes, you copied, toes digging into the soft rug, copying the little steps he was making in the plush material. “I want you to put your little touches all over this place if it makes you happy.”

Something inside of you turned to mush at that, and you looked down, seeing only the motions you both made as you shuffled across the rug, gentle laughter filling the space as you admired it. The day may not have been the best, but Azriel seemed at last a little more cheered. That lingering sadness underneath seemed to last, though.

“Wanna’ go make dinner? We can have anything you want.”

He stepped away, leaving you to follow him as he made his way to the kitchen, and you almost had to jog to keep up with his long strides. “Hm, how about a cheese toastie?”

“A cheese toastie? C’mon, at least give me a little bit of a challenge!” Despite his protests, Azriel was before the fridge, pulling out a thick loaf of bread and several kinds of cheese, beginning to stack ingredients along the counter.

“Fine, how about a cheese toastie and some soup?” He glanced at you over his shoulder, face a blank portrait and somehow still conveying subtle judgement, tutting under his breath. “Hey! I’ll have you know that making a good soup is challenging!”

“I’ll have you know, that I’m excellent at cooking, and I’m about to make you the best soup you’ve ever had.”

“Big claims,” You smirked, hopping up onto the counter and swinging your legs, watching as he retrieved a large pot from the cupboards, adding some water and setting it to boil on the stove. “You sure you can handle it?”

“You just watch me handle it.”

Your tongue stuck out, his matching it, and laughter filled the kitchen as he set to work. As Azriel chopped, sliced and peeled the vegetables, adding seasoning and spices, you set to work on slicing the bread and cheeses. When it was done, he retrieved them from you, stacking the bread and fillings up, and finding a pan to start grilling.

“Make yourself useful and go lay the table.”

“Make myself useful?” A single swat to the arm, and Azriel was grinning to himself as he stirred the soup. “You are the one who keeps telling me that you’re the chef, I would be helping if you’d let me!”

“And now I’m letting you. Letting you set the table. You’re welcome.”

“You’re welcome, yeah, whatever.” You mocked, tugging open the cutlery drawer, gathering cutlery and plates, laying them out on the table. Glasses of water followed, and then you were back, peering over Azriel’s shoulder as he flipped over the two toasties, melted cheese dripping from the edges and making your mouth water. “Smells good.”

“Hm.” He grabbed for another spoon, scooping some out of the bubbling soup, and turning. Holding it up to your lips, all teasing was gone, and you parted your lips, letting him push the spoon between them slowly. Pulling it back, he waited as you swallowed, considering the flavour. “Good?”

“Really good.”

“Yeah?” Pink touched his cheeks at your confirmation, and his private smile was hidden as he turned his back to you, back to the food. “I’m glad. Go sit down, it’s almost ready.”

You did as told, propping your hand on your fist as you sat in your seat, watching him move around the kitchen, plating up your dinner. When it was ready, he sat across the table from you, eagerly waiting on his food as he waited for you to try it once again.

Reaching one hand out across the table, palm facing up, you offered your hand to him, in the space between you both. Hesitating for only a second, Azriel slid his rough and calloused fingers over your own, holding on gently when you curled your hand around his. He stared, rubbing his thumb slowly over your knuckles as he turned your hands atop the surface, and shook his head softly to himself.

“Eat up, Az. You’ve had a stressful day.”

He only laughed, a cheeky glint in his eye as he peered up at you through his lashes, shoulders softening further.

No matter how far they softened, tension easing out, it was never gone entirely. Not as you sat and ate dinner together, not as you shared the pastries you had for dessert, cutting each treat in half and sharing every thought. Lingering underneath it all, in the way his smile never fully extended, or his shimmer dimmed a little too fast, you could tell the weight of the day was still dragging him down.

He’d insisted on cleaning up, and so you’d stood side by side, him washing and you drying, the quiet eating at the space in between you both until it was too much. So, you’d filled the space by talking, and Azriel had listened to every senseless whim and joke you’d had to say, walking beside you to your bedroom door, before bidding you a quiet goodnight, and disappearing into his own.

Only one shadow had lingered, brushing across your cheek before trailing in tendrils with the others, which were wrapped tightly around his body. Like a protective shield, or a safety blanket. As you changed for bed, every movement felt heavy, the air was heavy with the lingering emotions of the day, and you could almost taste his guilt and self-loathing in the air.

You’d all but paced a hole in your floor as you wandered up and down thinking about it.

It didn’t feel right to leave him, but you weren’t sure of where those boundaries lay, what your limits were. If Azriel wanted company, he could’ve asked, but he didn’t exactly seem like the sort to reach out. He was the quiet, brood-in-solitude type. You had no idea what to do to help.

You were still considering it as you silently approached his bedroom door. There was a light still on, flickering dimly as the flame danced, just enough of a soft glow to perhaps be a single candle.

Before you could back out and turn around, a single shadow snaked under the threshold, curling around your ankle, swarming quietly and securely, like a message. Before you could second-guess again, your knuckles wrapped twice against the door, the shadow darting back underneath.

A gruff noise of acknowledgement from inside welcomed you, and you stepped into the room. Feet near-silent against the carpet, the shadows were back, a wisp of cool touch around your bare calves, brushing all the way up, and stopping respectfully at the hem of your nightgown.

Instead of venturing further, they shifted to your arms, following your every motion as you closed the door and began padding across the room toward him, feeling the twist and dance of them up your arms.

As you reached the edge of the bed, he lowered his book, a single jerk of his chin bringing his shadows darting back to him, smoothing into the creases of the bed and the shadows on the floor, all but disappearing sneakily once again. Sitting up further, he patted the space beside him, and you crawled up across the bed to kneel by his side.

He waited patiently as you settled, your heart racing in your chest as he welcomed your company. Your comfort. You hadn't thought it through this far, what to even say to him, but only one thing came to mind;

“I got a job today,”

His eyes widened almost comically, brows shooting up his forehead, and his jaw dropped. For a heartbeat, two, he was speechless. “You got a job?”

“The desserts we had? They came from The Star Crossed Bun Bakery, and you’re lookin’ at their new waitress!” He let out a cheer, arms reaching out to drag you over his legs and into a hug, your ass planted across his thighs as his arms wrapped around your body, squeezing you to his chest. Your head shook, giggling uncontrollably as he whooped. “Well, it’s no ‘spymaster of the Night Court’, but—”

“Do you like it?” He cuts you off cleanly, no longer smiling, a serious look on his face. “Do you think it’ll make you happy?”

“I do. I think it’s perfect.”

“Then who cares what it is? It’s the best job ever, if it’ll truly bring you joy.” The sincerity in his voice made you believe him, the honesty in his eyes only confirmed it, and you couldn't tear your sights away from his own because of it. Captive, you were locked in his gaze, the wide beam on your lips dimming to something more gentle, and his arms tightened around your waist some more as you looped one of your own around his neck for support.

“I’ll be able to pay you back for everything pretty soon.” Threading your fingers a little higher, into the hairs along the back of his head a rumbling sound beat through his chest at the scratch of your nails on his scalp.

“I told you, I don’t want you to pay me back. That money I gave you was a gift, and you used half of it to buy things for me anyway, so it barely even counts.”

“If I don’t pay you back,” You shuffled, sliding a little further down in his lap as he crooked his legs up behind you. “Then your brothers are right, I’m your sugar baby.”

His smile dimmed a little as you looked up at him, but it didn’t leave completely, and after a couple of moments of quiet, he shrugged. “Then you’re my sugar baby. I don’t care what they think.”

“I care!” Your hand slapped loosely at his arm, and he only rubbed a hand down your spine, his face impassive at your protest. Your eyes rolled fondly, cheek going to rest on his shoulder as he continued to rub your back slowly. Shuffling the blankets down around himself, he pulled them free from his lap and up and over yours instead, his hand going to rest over your covered thigh once he was done.

“Wanna stay and cuddle for a while, sugar?”

“Oh, gods…” The nickname is an awful play on current events, but it makes him smile once again, and so you stretch your legs out and slump a little further across him as he relaxes back into the pillows, taking you with him.

Smoothing your hands across the front of your dress, you gave a final nod to the mirror, unwilling to let yourself overthink it any further. The four other outfits discarded on your bed were proof enough of that. Swiping up a pair of simple black heels, a matching purse and a lipstick you’d yet to wear, you let the bedroom door click shut behind you as you left.

Downstairs, you were finally learning the ways to navigate this house, you found Azriel sitting in his favourite armchair, a loose t-shirt and sweatpants. A mug of cooling tea sat on the coffee table as his legs stretched out to reach his feet to the new rug, book in hand. Placing down the purse and the lipstick at the table by the front door, you slipped one heel on, then the other, as you walked towards him.

“When are we leaving? You’re not dressed yet.”

His head lifted, eyes focusing intently on your outfit as he took you in, a long and sweeping gaze from head to foot. A simple black sundress, nothing special about it, but as Azriel scanned right from the hem at your ankles to the liner behind your lashes, you felt special.

Holding out his hand, you took it, and he twirled you simply before him, a smile pulling on your lips as you moved in a circle before his seat.

“Leaving for what?” He eventually said, dropping your fingers after running his thumb across your knuckles. “Why are you dressed up?”

“Family dinner!” His eyes narrowed. “It’s tonight!” His smile fell, lips pursing in a scowl, and he shook his head.

“We’re not going to that.”

“But it’s your family!”

“Yeah, and they were assholes. Besides, you didn’t sign up to deal with their shit.” His focus moved back to his book, and you took it from his hands, ignoring the sound of protest he gave off, sliding the bookmark between the pages, and putting it out of his reach.

“I kinda’ did sign up for it. Wasn’t that one of the main points of our… agreement?” Leaning your thigh on the edge of his chair, he was forced to look up and meet your gaze. “To go to events with you, so you’re not alone.”

His frown only deepened. The sight of it made you want to rage, hating that expression on his face, and you sunk onto the chair, threading a hand into his hair like you’d done a day prior, playing lightly.

“Besides, I’m going to have to meet them all eventually, Az. If they’re all going to hate me, might as well get it done in one sitting, huh?”

He only groaned, leaning forward to brace his forehead against your thigh, grumbling at your chuckle as your hand followed, back to his hair. Running one scarred hand over the material adorning your calves, he huffed out a warm breath against your leg. “You look so beautiful in your new dress.”

“Thank you.” Your heart fluttered a little at the pure tone of his voice.

“Are you sure you want to go?”

“I didn’t get all dressed up for nothin’. C’mon, have a little faith in me. I can handle it.” Another pass of your fingers through his hair, and he twisted his head, to rest his cheek in its place. “I’ve been practising my mental wall-building skills, I have to test them out.”

“Alright, alright.” He sighed, lingering a second longer before heaving himself to his feet with a whine, stretching his arms over his head and his wings out to their full spread, the display of them mesmerising as you watched them move. “Just give me five minutes to get dressed.”

As he passed by, he dipped, leaving a swift kiss on your cheek and dashing from the room, his footsteps becoming silent the further he got. There was a bashful smile on your lips, fingers reaching up to softly trace the spot where you could feel his lips, still tingling, as heat flooded over your cheeks in a wave. By the time you’d finally come around to yourself, it was to straighten up the cushions, carry away his mug to the kitchen and put the bottle of wine you’d spent half a day choosing out yesterday onto the counter.

Using the mirror hung in the hallway, you were still applying your lipstick when Azriel, true to his word, arrived only minutes after departing, now dressed. He was attempting to smooth down his hair as he arrived by your side. Now donned in dress pants and a smart button-up shirt, all in black, he waved his hands over himself. “Now I match you.”

“Oh, please, you exclusively wear all black.”

His answering smirk made your eyes roll, focus returning to the mirror to finish your lipstick application. “Fine, you matched me then.”

You scoffed. He only leaned one shoulder against the wall, crossing his ankles as he waited, watching you. That blush came crawling back. “Stop staring at me while I pout at the mirror.”

“It’s adorable.”

“Make yourself useful and go get the wine from the kitchen.” You finished up, tucking the lipstick inside of your purse and swiping a cardigan from the coat hooks, wrapping it over your shoulders before he returned. His brows were raised when he did, holding up the corked bottle in his hands. “What? I bought it with the last of my savings. It’s the best I could afford, but it’s still pretty good, I think. There were tasters at the winery.”

“Oh, so is that why you were so smiley and giggly when you came home yesterday? You were tipsy?”

His free hand landed on your hip, and your eyes narrowed on him. “I was not tipsy!”

“Sure.” He teased, your eyes rolling some more. You reached up, distracting him effectively enough by smoothing down the last of his untamed hair, hands settling on his shoulders. Beneath the buttons of his chest, a soft blue pulsed from under the fabric, and your hands smoothed down slowly to rest on that place. It hummed with warmth, the siphon underneath all but buzzing with the power it contained.

A quick flicker told you the ones on his hands were there, nor were the ones on his knees, or his shoulders. “These are beautiful.”

He was quiet, too quiet, and when your eyes found his, he was staring with what you could only describe as awe.

“What?”

“Nothing. It’s just…” His lips parted, but no sound came out, struggling to find his words for a moment, and you waited patiently for him to open up. “They mean something. I scare people, and they’re part of that image. You’re not scared of them? Of me?”

“Not one thing about you scares me, Azriel.” His grin told you enough, that your answer had found someplace deep inside of him, where it was needed, and he bowed his head enough to rest his forehead with your own. “Why are you wearing one tonight? You don’t wear them to bed.”

“Because I didn’t trust myself.”

“To do what?” You mused, his head finally rising, but his hand still squeezed your waist, sliding around a little further to band around your body.

“Not to lose control if they’re unkind to you again.” It was your turn to be struck deep, and you knew by the bob in his throat that he caught the hitch in your breath. Silence fell between you both, a moment dragging on for eternity and yet somehow being over far too quickly, when he shook his head softly. You don’t know what he read on your face, whether it was the surprise or adoration, or none of it at all. When he spoke again, it was with a raspy voice, dragging like gravel; “Ready to go?”

“Ready as I’ll ever be.”

He hesitated, only for a second as he pulled back, shadows wrapping tightly around your bodies while he waited for your nod of confirmation. Then, they coiled, blocking out all of the light and clearing only when the ground had fallen from your feet and been found once again. Before you stood the sprawling estate owned by the High Lord and Lady. If you hadn't known you were coming here, it would have been an easy guess.

Casual grandeur, understated beauty but breathtaking nonetheless. Colourful flowers lined rows around the base of the house, the river rushing softly across rocks behind you, faelights casting a warm glow over the cobbled path leading up to the main house. Step after step, you walked beside Azriel, his hand a warm and grounding presence on your lower back, comfort in every swipe of his thumb over your spine as you made your way up to the house.

As soon as the front door was opened, shadows darted in ahead of you both, instinct pulling them from the darkness to scope out every corner of the room before returning, nothing to report of the safe and familiar environment. Laughter was spilling out, every step further into the luxurious home carried that warmth and carefree happiness.

The room finally came into view, a large wooden dining table, decorated with candles, wine glasses, flowers and baskets of bread, the members around the table spread out comfortably, and you checked off mentally who was here, based on what Azriel had told you. Lucien, Elain’s mate, was not in attendance tonight. Nor was Varian, Amren’s lover. Four empty seats sat around the table, which went silent, as all attention fell to your entry.

“You’ve got to be kidding me, Azriel.”

“What?” He pasted on a cocky look, masking the feelings you knew were roiling underneath his expression, his fingers twitching against your back. “You said come to dinner, see how the rest of the family reacts, so here we are.”

“I meant you alone,” The High Lord growled, and you checked those walls you’d been practising with were still intact, not failing to miss the snarl Rhysand let out as a cool feeling brushed over those barriers. Testing. Confused looks painted some of the faces at the table, looking between you both in the doorway, and the host sitting at the head, who looked as though he might actually burst from his anger. “This is inappropriate.”

Azriel pointedly ignored him, a slight pressure on your back nudging you forward, guiding you to two of the empty seats, pulling out the one beside Morrigan for you to sit in. Mumbling a quiet thank you, you sank into the seat, the incriminating stares laid onto you by everyone present only grew heavier when Azriel left a kiss on the top of your head in acknowledgement.

Not one to be ignored, Rhysand let his words burst free, “You cannot just bring your sugar-baby to dinner with the family!”

“Oh, but you can bring Tamlin’s kidnapped bride?”

You felt your muscles lock up at that smoothly spoken insult, the temperature in the room dropping several degrees, and when you looked up, they were locked in a stare, glaring at one another viciously.

Then Amren laughed, and you let it shake you back into motion, sliding the wine bottle out of Azriel’s white-knuckled grip as he moved to take his seat beside you.

“Azriel.” The single word was growled, so low and threatening, and a burst of night-kissed power rippled along the table, shaking glasses and cutlery. “Feyre is my mate, it’s different.”

“Not really,” Azriel all but chirped, defiance on every word, and nausea rolled in your stomach that he’d act this way over you. He sat, and you reached out, placing a hand gently on his forearm, squeezing. He placed a hand over your own, but didn’t look your way. “She may be your mate, but at the time she was merely Tamlin’s bride whom you stole from her wedding, on her wedding day, on a fucking technicality!”

“I knew she was my mate, and she was begging for help!” He slammed a hand down on the table, the cutlery shaking and rattling again, and you squeezed Azriel’s arm. He squeezed back. “She wasn’t just some whore from the gods-damned pleasure house!”

At that, the room seemed to freeze over. Not even Amren laughed now, and you knew the weight of that one word. The word that Rhysand had been branded with, the slur that was muttered behind his back for so long after the events Under the Mountain, and your heart thudded painfully hard in your chest, nerves taking over.

Their staring lasted for a second longer, before Azriel’s chair screeched back across the tiles. He stood, holding his hand out to you.

“Stand up, sweetheart. We’re leaving.”

“What?” Your gaze moved from his gaze to his eyes, and he wiggled his fingers, expression softening every second he looked at you.

“Az, wait, please stay.” Morrigan offered from your side. “I haven’t seen you for months, please stay.”

You remembered Azriel telling you that Morrigan had been away, he wasn’t even sure she’d be here tonight, she’d been on another continent playing the charming courtier for a while, and showing her girlfriend the bigger world. His eyes shuttered with regret and disappointment as he glanced at her. “I’ll see you another time, Mor. You should come over sometime.”

His hand dropped to your shoulder as his focus returned to you, squeezing lightly. Beneath his shirt, blue glowed so bright it lit up the fibres of his shirt now, straining to control his feelings. “C’mon, sweets. Let’s go home.”

“Azriel, please stay.” This time, it was the High Lady who spoke, all gazes moving to her as she effortlessly commanded the room.

“Fey, I’m sorry.” Finally, regret leaked into Azriel’s voice, no longer that firm and cruel tone, but the one you were so familiar with was back. “You know I didn’t mean any insult by it. Coming here was a mistake, and we should go.”

Rhysand huffed at those words, agreeing with that sound, but his wife only shook her head. “You made a valid point, Azriel. You didn’t say anything that wasn’t true. I was just Tamlin’s bride, and before that, I was just a poor girl who was hunting in the woods.” Her sights moved to you then, your heart freezing as you were acknowledged directly, “I would have done anything to get by, too.” She shrugged, offering a small smile that did more to comfort you than she might ever know. Then she cut a sharp look at her husband. “We do what we must to survive.”

“I’m fine, Az. We should stay.” He looked torn, whole body shuddering a little with restraint, but he eventually sank into his seat again, tucking himself under the table. Lifting the bottle you held up in the air, you hoped your hands were shaking enough to be visible. “We brought some wine.”

“We have wine,” Rhysand muttered, but snapped his fingers, and let two new wine glasses appear before you and Azriel, angry expression still on his face. A silent conversation of some kind seemed to take place between him and his wife, because, after a moment of sharp looks and flickering expressions, he sighed, shoulders slumping. He picked up a bottle of his own wine, however, making sure that the expensive label was facing in your direction as he poured it.

Opposite you, the High Lady’s sister, Nesta, chugged her glass, finishing the near-full one off in one burst, and wiping her mouth with the back of her hand before holding the now empty glass out to you. “I love that wine, used to drink it all the time. Rhysand won’t buy anything that isn’t at least half as old as he is, but expensive isn’t always better. Can I get some of that?”

Perking up a little bit, your over-eager nod would’ve been embarrassing, if Azriel’s hand didn’t shoot out faster than you could react yourself, taking the glass from her and bringing it closer to you both. Placing it down with your glasses, he took the bottle from you, uncorking it, and pouring three glasses, before passing her’s back. You didn��t miss the grateful smile on his face for her offered olive branch, or her curt nod in reply.

Dinner was soon served, by two wraith-like women by the names of Nuala and Cerridwen, who were silent as they moved through the room. Sat before you was a plate of some of the most decadent food you’d ever seen, a meal you’d rarely ever been able to afford to treat yourself to, and it was a simple weekend gathering for them.

Several different sets of cutlery were laid out before you, matching forks and spoons and knives of different sizes, all presumably for different purposes, and the cloying knot of shame and embarrassment gathered within you as everyone else seemed to know exactly which one to go for, and you had no idea.

A shadow swirled around one finger, before darting down to the cutlery, racing along a fork and nudging it just an inch to the side. Rhysand’s eyes were on you, you could feel the heavy stare as you picked it up cautiously, and the knife the shadow motioned you to as well, before offering a polite smile and digging into the food just like everyone else.

Azriel glanced down, brow raising in a barely-noticeable tick to check on you, and your dip of a nod was good enough to encourage him. The conversation seemed to flow on around the both of you, but rarely ever ventured enough to include you. Azriel would talk more often, occasionally a question was darted in your direction, but never anything that required more than a one or two-word answer.

The plates were cleared and you were a little relieved to have made it through, trying not to slouch in your seat, or do anything else that would only add to the bad reputation you’d already managed to be burdened with.

It was only the first course, a shock that came when a second, much larger plate of even more expensive and exquisite-looking food was placed before you. Shadow’s signalled you in again, and your half-drained wine glass was refilled, shared between you and Azriel with what was left of the bottle you’d brought.

The once sweet wine practically tasted sour in your mouth now as you plastered on a smile to get through the next stage of this evening. You weren’t here to have fun, though. You weren’t here to be liked, even if it would have been nice to make some friends. You were here to support Azriel, to give him the comfort and company he needed.

The more you looked around, the more you could see what he meant. The High Lord and Lady were not shy about their affections, practically curled into one another the entire time, touches frequent and sweet words murmured. Morrigan had been talking with Nesta for almost thirty minutes about her girlfriend, who must’ve been one of Nesta’s friends, and her mate was just as attentive. Cassian had eaten half of Nesta’s starter, what he hadn't gotten himself she’d fed to him with a smirk and kissed away any traces, even going so far as to lick the corner of his mouth when she thought nobody was looking.

Amren was silent and stealthy, reading her book and talking to nobody. You were sure if Varian had been present, or Lucien for Elain, it would have been even more unbearable. No wonder he was willing to extend such offers just for some relief.

Reaching out and placing a hand on his forearm, he jumped slightly, his cutlery clattering on his plate as his head whipped to you. Eyes a little wide as you trailed that hand down, he unfurled his fist a little, gaze never straying, as your hand closed atop his palm. With a squeeze, his lips flickered at the edges, a slow blink offered, before putting down his knife and turning his hand over to hold yours properly.

All eyes were on you, you were sure some looks dirty, but it didn’t matter. You were looking at him. At the smile he wore, the warmth creeping back in at the edges of his expression, the gratitude and the affection and the kindness. The Azriel you were so familiar with.

Somehow, just reaching for him, made the rest of dinner easier for you too.

It didn’t matter that nobody spoke to you for more than a minute or two, because you were far too distracted by the feeling of his hand in yours.

It didn’t matter that the dirty looks and double-edged questions never quite ceased, because when Azriel left a kiss on your temple and smoothed his hand over your hair after the plates had been cleared, your mind was practically empty for several moments.

It didn’t matter that you felt out of place, because with your head on his shoulder, and his cheek atop your crown, you’d never felt more at home.

Dessert was finally served, a decadent-looking chocolate cake and a round of coffees and teas, that made you grateful the meal was finally drawing to a close. It took all of your strength to pull away from Azriel, to sit properly once again to appreciate the cake before you.

“So, where were you living before…” Nesta waves her spoon idly around the room, before plunging it back into her dessert and taking another mouthful, “All this?”

“Before I met Azriel, or before I came to the Night Court?” You raised a brow, and she smirked around her spoon, shrugging. Azriel swiped his thumb across your knuckles, drawing your attention to him momentarily. He was staring at your collapsed hands, sitting before him on the table and watching his thumb moving slowly across your skin.

“Both.” Was all she gave, intrigue covering her tone.

You squeezed at Azriel’s hand, his attention snapping to you, and you raised your brows, a silent question if he was alright. He only nodded, letting that small smile touch his lips for a brief moment. “Well, before I moved to the Night Court, I was travelling, mostly. I wasn’t settled, I was trying to find where I wanted to set up some roots, and then I heard all about the Court of Dreams, and it sounded perfect for me, I always felt a little out of place at home.”

“So, when you arrived here, you just stumbled across our lovely shadowsinger?”

“We kinda’... stumbled across each other, I guess.” You squeeze Azriel’s hand again, his smile directed at the table this time as he squeezed back, before shuffling his chair an inch closer to your own. “We met in… well, I’m sure you’ve heard where we met, how we met, that whole tale, already. I was living in a shabby little apartment, and he did not like it very much.”

“Your place was atrocious, it should have been condemned.” He muttered, and your giggle at least made him smile, a one-shouldered shrug when Nesta rose her brows. “Seriously, Nesta, it made your apartment look like this place.”

He’d said a variation of that exact same thing to you already, the teasing scoff tumbling from your lips, pinching at his arm, and he jumped in shock, but did not take back the allegation. Instead, he only picked up your hand, eyes glittering a little as he kissed the back of it, diffusing any taunts you might have been building and melting them to utter mush.

“That bad, huh?” She chuckled, crossing her arms as she leaned back in her chair, utterly satisfied with the meal that had been provided. As you were, so full you could barely function anymore, on some of the best food you’d ever had.

“Whatever you’re picturing, double it.” Azriel groaned, sending a ripple of soft laughter between the three of you.

“So, what do you do now? I’m assuming not working at the place you met.” A loaded question, that was for sure, and you felt Azriel tense up beside you. The other chatter around the table seemed to quiet down, all attention falling to you now, and you cleared your throat before speaking up;

“I just got a new job, at a bakery-café in the market square.” In your periphery, you caught the sharp glance Azriel cut to one end of the table, a pointed glare to serve words he didn’t need to speak, before pulling his focus back. “It’s called Star-Crossed Bun, have you ever been?”

She let out a groan, eyes closing and head falling back as she patted her stomach. “I love Star-Crossed Bun, they make these little caramel cupcakes that are incredible. The girls and I go every week after training, on Fridays.”

“Perhaps I’ll see you in there, then!”

She only hummed, her gaze sweeping over you in a suddenly assessing way, and you wondered what had gone wrong. The conversation seemed to be flowing so well, it almost seemed like you’d made at least one friend at this dinner, and now her focus had turned from lazy and relaxed to sharp and calculating. “Have you ever held a sword before?”

“No. I think I’d drop one, or take off some of my own fingers if I even tried.”

Another hum. Another calculating stare. “You should come to training with us. I think Emerie and Gwyn would love to meet you.”

“Oh?” Your heart felt like it skipped over a beat, a grin coming back to her lips, her features softening again, and she shrugged. “Like… your sort of training?”

“You don’t have to be a warrior or anything, or come all the time. We could even just show you some simple self-defence. I think you’d like it, and you’d get to meet some new people in this court, and make some friends.”

“That sounds amazing, I’d love to!” Another squeeze from Azriel, before pulling your hand closer to his own, wrapping his second one around both of yours, and smiling to himself. “When is it?”

“Oh, well, Thursdays are cardio days, but Cassian and I are there every day. We train at the House of Wind, just show up whenever you can.”

A bolt of ice struck through you, tension filling your body once again, and that horrible sinking feeling of knowing something had been too good to be true froze over inside of you at the mention of the commander beside her. “I’ll let you know. I’m not too sure how I’d get there, I can’t rely on Az to winnow me everywhere.”

You tried your best to keep your tone light, to brush it off casually, and hopefully find a different way to bond with her. She’d mentioned the caramel cupcakes you could surely see her at the café, or bring some to the next dinner, perhaps— “Is it because I said cardio? Because if you come on Thursdays, I can make cardio fun, I swear!”

Your laugh felt empty now, and Azriel sat up a little straighter beside you, ready to speak. “It’s not the cardio, it’s Cassian. He terrifies her.”

The smile dropped from Nesta’s face, and she sat up straight too, her eyes narrowing as she glanced between you and Azriel, and her mate. “What?”

“No, no. That’s not it at all—”

“When you go full ‘Commander of Death’ on someone you’ve never met before, in their own home, while someone else picks through their brain like it’s a toy basket without even introducing themselves, it’s a little scary.”

“Azriel!” Your snap was harsh, a heaviness falling over an already silent table now, as both the culprits seemed to have moved their attention to their brother, the rest of the guests merely watching with curiosity.

“Sorry. I just…” Azriel heaved a sigh, slumping down in his seat until the tips of his wings were brushing the floor. “It wasn’t fair. You did nothing wrong, and it’s been bothering me since that day. You fucking hid behind me, in your own home! You looked more scared than the night we met, and you made me promise not to murder you.” A nostalgic smile brushed his face for half a second, an apology for his outburst already shining in his eyes when he looked at you fully. “You can’t expect me to just let that go.”

He was concerned, worrying beginning to stitch into his features, and even though he’d opened up about how you felt without your permission, you knew it wasn’t with bad intentions. He just wanted to protect you, and above all, that made you feel far more for him than irritation. “We’ll talk about it later.” You whispered, and he only nodded, leaning in to place a soft kiss on your forehead that left you blushing.

“You don’t have to train with Cassian.” Nesta only gave a brutal look in Cassian’s direction, who at least looked a little sheepish at the accusation, but any time you looked at him, all you could see was the scowl, the look in his eyes as if he’d kill you, and like it. “I mean, he’ll be there, but I’ll make sure he’s nowhere near you. And I promise, he wouldn't hurt you, even if he looks like a brute. I hope you do choose to come, I’d really like to see you.”

“I think you should go.” Azriel’s whisper was just for you to hear, and when you turned, his face was close to yours, so close you were almost cross-eyed to look at him. “She’s right, Emerie and Gwyn would like you a lot.”

“I’ll winnow you up sometimes too, if you’d like. So you don’t feel like you’re always asking Az.” When your eyes, and everyone else’s, moved to Mor in shock, she only finished off the red wine in her glass and shrugged. “Oh, please. Some people are being so melodramatic about all of this. Besides, Emerie would give me shit if I got home and told her I hadn't offered, anyway.”

“So it’s settled. You’ll come to training this week, give it a go.” Nesta smirked, and you guessed she might be used to getting her way by now, if the sparkle in her eyes was anything to go by. “Just one little trial session.”

All eyes were on you, even Azriel, and you caved with a sound that was somewhere between a laugh and a groan. “Okay, fine. I’ll be there.”

Nesta beamed to herself, cheering lightly, and Cassian gave a gruff chuckle as he leaned in to kiss her cheek. Averting your gaze towards Azriel as he now stared longingly at your cake, it was your turn to laugh.

“Would you like the rest of it?”

“Only if you’re not going to eat it.” Even as he spoke, though, he was lifting his spoon again, “We can share it?”

“Sure.” You confirmed, and he took off a chunk of it, offering it to you first. You almost accepted, but the thought of letting him feed you felt far too intimate in a room full of people who hated you.

His eyes narrowed slightly, and then he nodded, settling further back in his seat and dragging the plate to sit between you both.

When that plate was finally clear, Azriel didn’t hesitate to finish off his wine, slouching back into his seat as far as his wings would let him, one stretched out behind half of your chair, too. His hand reached out, settling on your elbow and shaking you gently from the conversation you’d been listening to Elain and Morrigan have about the former’s gardening crop this summer.

“Are you ready to leave?” He offered, fingers flexing on your arm before sliding away.

“Are you?”

“Yes. I’m…” He glanced around, shrugging when Cassian’s focus lay solely on him, and clearing his throat to speak a little louder. “I’m tired, I’d like to go home.”

“Thank you for staying, Az.” His High Lady said, voice as delicate as ever, and her tone dipped far closer to professionalism than friendly as she moved to you. “Thank you both for coming.”

“Thank you for having us. The food was lovely, the company even more so.” You matched her tone, a smile and a glance around the table without truly meeting anybody’s gaze. Azriel stood, extending his hand to you, and taking your purse in his other. Standing with him, Azriel dipped halfway into a far more dramatic exit, waving a hand cordially.

“It’s been a pleasure. Shall we see you next week?”

The question hung like fog in the air, blinding and disabling, and Rhys’ jaw ticked as he considered it. “If it makes you happy, I suppose we will be.” He finally ground out, expression as tight and sharp as it was polite.

“If we don’t have plans, we’ll be here.” It was Azriel’s wicked way of lighting the tension, and even Rhys offered a chuckle, finally ending their stalemate, even as he rolled his eyes. He waved a hand at you both, and Azriel’s ran along your back, shadows clouding you in, your breath held until you were finally back in the familiar corridors of Azriel’s home.

The breath slipped free with a heavy sigh. Putting down your purse, you turned toward the coat rack, not making it very far before two hands were settling on your shoulders, stilling your movements. In the hallways mirror, you could see Azriel behind you, wings tucked in tight, shadows bustling like busy streets, chaos as he took half a step closer. He lowered, forehead resting on the back of your head, after leaving a kiss there.

“Are you mad at me?” Azriel asked, peeling your cardigan down your arms slowly, the warmth of his body leaking into you from behind, and you could only give a soft laugh. As he hung it up on the coat hooks, you turned to face him, still closer to his height as you balanced in your heels, arms looping easily around his neck.

“I’m not mad at you.” He sighed again at that, his hands coming to rest on your hips this time, pulling you a little closer, until you could practically feel the pulsing of the siphon beneath his shirt, mimicking a heartbeat. “I just don’t want you making enemies of your family over me. I can defend myself, and you don’t have to pick between them or me.”

He didn’t respond, only leaning in to give another sweet kiss, this one to the tip of your nose. Running your hands over his shoulders and down his arms, thick muscles were taut and lined with lingering tension once again.

“Why don’t I make us some tea, and bring it upstairs for us? We can sit and read for a while.”

“I’d like that.”

Using him for balance to kick off your heels before letting him go, he padded away through the house as you made your way to the kitchen. Once the water was set to boil and you’d chosen a relaxing brew for the evening’s choice, you took your time to prepare for bed yourself.

A tray with two steaming mugs on and a jar of honey later, and you were carrying it slowly through the house towards the bedroom, shadows flickering along, crawling in the tight corners of the walls as you walked.

By the time you were nudging your way through Azriel’s half-cracked door, he was just settling in at the cushions of his bed, glancing up to watch you set the tray on the bedside table on the opposite side.

“You’re not in bed yet.”

Not a question but a statement, and he only shrugged, peeling back the covers on both sides of the bed, and crawling in himself, spreading his wings to sit comfortably. “I was just thinking about stuff, is all.”

“Are you okay?” He gave a hollow laugh, rolling his head slowly on his shoulders to look at you, accepting the mug you held out to him with a quiet thanks, sniffling the steam that came off and loosing a breath filled with worries.

“I should be asking you that after tonight. I never should have taken you there.”

“In case you’ve forgotten, it was my choice to go. I had to convince you to take me, so you’re not allowed to carry the guilt of it all.” He notched a brow a little higher, blowing on the surface of his tea, and amusement flickered over his features. Just what you’d wanted.

“I’m not allowed?”

“No. If anyone is going to take the guilt, it's me. It's mine. You can’t have it.” You offered him the honey, only to receive a small shake of his head as he sipped the first taste, and you loaded a spoonful into your own. “Are you okay, though?”

“Are you?” He countered.

“I’m fine, Az.” He didn’t look like he believed you, only staring, like he’d be able to read right into your soul. Putting down your mug, and taking a bracing breath, you laid a knee on the mattress, then another, inching across the bed before swinging a leg across his own. His eyes went wider, watching as you settled yourself into his lap, sitting on his thighs. “Give me your hands.”

“My hands?” He offered them anyway, throat bobbing in a series of swallows as you took them, rubbing your fingers across his palms slowly.

“Azriel, look at me.” His brows dipped, and you set his hands onto your hips gently, his fingers flexing there. “Really look at me. See that I’m okay. I’m stronger than you think. I know you want to look after me, and it makes me so happy that you do. Nobody has ever wanted to look after me before. But that made me strong. I’ve always been looking out for myself, and I want you to know that. Trust me. I can handle more than you think.”

“I do trust you.” His voice cracked, and he sat up further, hauling you up his body until his chest was almost pressed to your own, his arms slipping around your back. “But there’s something. Something that makes me… I want— I just want you to be happy.”

“I am happy, Azriel. I’m happy, and I’m okay. I’m great. If that changes, I’ll tell you.” Settling your hands on his cheeks, his eyes shuttered, leaning a little further into your touch.

“You will?”

“Do you want me to promise it?”

He chuckled, dragging his hand up your spine, to cup the back of your neck, where the promise-brand you’d once sworn to him for all of twenty minutes had once sat. “No, I don’t want any more of those on your skin. Not even to me. Don’t make a promise unless you have no other way. If they’re not worded right, you can be held captive by someone until they die, or you find a way to fulfil the impossible. Don’t do it.”

Leaning in, your forehead rested on his own, and he tipped his face up a little, eyes closing. “Do you want me to promise to make no promises?”

Bubbling, bursting laughter ruptured from him, his body jolting under your own as his face fell to your neck instead, bunching you into his body to hold on tight. A deep, throaty sound that was irresistible, your laughter joining in. “You’re a goddamn menace, sugar.”

“Gotta’ keep you on your toes somehow.”

#SLS #sweet like sugar #azriel x reader #azriel/reader #azriel x you #azriel/you #acotar x reader #acotar/reader #acotar x you #acotar/you #azriel shadowsinger #azriel #a court of thorns and roses #acotar

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erinwantstowrite · 5 months ago

Note

Let me just quickly say, cross-overs can sometimes get REALLY difficult to map out and write in a cohesive way but you have absolutely NAILED IT!! I absolutely ADORE LoF!!! I usually don’t even bother reading fics with the ‘Richard Grayson is Richard Parker’ premise cause I felt like they were super confusing and overcomplicated but this fic?? SUPERB. ABSOLUTELY INCREDIBLE. OH MY GOD I ADORE IT. Everyone’s characterizations are so nice and wonderful aaaaaaah!!!! <33333

Ok ok I did actually have a question as well: would you be willing to share what your writing process looks like in terms of a chapter you’ve already posted? I was just wondering since I’m also currently working on my own fic (it’s been a few years but I managed to get fixated on an idea and it grew legs lol) and I’m currently fighting the organization of it haha.

How do you keep track of the plot points and/or foreshadowing you want to get a ‘lightbulb!’ moment for later? Do you have any tips?

Thank you so much! I absolutely adore your writing AND your art is so gorgeous omg it adds so much to the incredible story :DDD I hope you have a good day!!

I have a secret: I actually didn't like "Richard Grayson is Richard Parker' tag for a while for the same reason. Sometimes they felt like they missed the mark or it's just. A thing that's there? I almost didn't include it for LoF, but I'm glad I did because it changed the direction in such a big way.

Another secret: this made me incredibly happy because I have read so many wikis and scoured the internet to make sure that I had enough info on both fandoms so LoF could make sense to anyone who's reading it, whether they know Spider-Man, Batfam, or neither at all. Sometimes I worry a lot before I post that I'll miss a mark and will confuse people.

As for the question: I definitely am willing to share what my writing process looks like!

Be prepared for under the cut, I love to yap. It's in my blood to yap. And that's why it took a minute to get to this ask haha

(Spoilers for Leap of Faith!! Everything mentioned has already been published ((Chapters 1-11))

I had to go and find out which chapter I wanted to use as an example and I think we're gonna go with Chapter 5 for the most part :)

My writing process is, as described by alighterwood:

I think the description fits because while I'm all over the place, I have to be very detail oriented and I store everything in one spot.

Starting with the overall process, what I find is most helpful for me, when organizing, is having a notebook rather than doing it all digitally. I've been using a 70 sheet notebook that I had lying around waiting to be used, and as of yesterday, I officially filled the entire thing front to back. It's been an incredible help, for a lot of reasons, but mostly because it's a lot easier to remember something I physically wrote down than it is to remember something I typed. I'm now on to my second notebook for LoF, and I might even have to get a third.

In another ask, startupkat asked me this:

And I shared a little about my outline process there, but I'll try to go into a little more depth here. Emphasis on little because this is so long.

I write a truly insane amount of outlines in this notebook.

This is just what I can show you, but a good chunk of the notebook is just outlines. Over and over and over again. That's because they're always changing/adapting based on so many different factors. Sometimes I get to a chapter I thought I had fully planned out and then realize it just doesn't work anymore. Other times, I get to the chapter and realize I don't want to write that anymore/isn't as interesting as I thought it would be. A few times I got halfway through a POV of a scene I was struggling on and decided to switch POV's, which will change up the outline for a chapter every now and then.

Which is why I don't write incredibly detailed outlines and try to keep it vague until I actually get to that chapter. It's a lot less daunting to rewrite a chapter outline than it is to rewrite the entire outline.

Fic outlines and Chapter outlines look a lot alike.

This is what I said in the other ask, but I didn't elaborate on it all the way.

I make a list just like that, and then I try to put it in chronological order/in an order that makes sense. I keep the Fic outline vague by writing down "Goals" for a chapter rather than scenes. But I also keep notes to myself if I really think something is important. The more important I think a scene needs to be, the more details I write down to make sure my future self recalls what I had in mind when I thought it up.

Really simple example:

Chap 1 Goal: Peter gets to Gotham and meets Babs while running around. Meet Nightwing too? Get shelter.

Chapter 2 Goal: Bats are like "???" about Peter. Batfam dynamic important... Peter stalking Batfam back? Peter meet Batman >:)

When I get to a chapter, that's when I make a far more detailed list of wants/needs/goals. It's the Step 2 from the Step 1. Here are some examples from Chapter 5:

Needed to have:

More POV's from universe 1299 (Peter's home universe)

Tony's POV more specifically, how he's doing/feeling, what he's figured out

What they've figured out on 1299 side vs what's going on in 1300 (Gotham)

Explaining more about Peter's trauma/his past

Dick learning more about Peter, and vise versa

Wanted to have:

Ned being a more central character

Natasha :)

Loki being a little shit

Tony and Cap bickering

Peter talking to Nightwing again

The last name Grayson

Gymnastics!!

(This is the shortened list, because the chapters are so long)

When I looked at this list before writing my outline, I had to figure out how I could incorporate everything. If I needed more 1299 POV's, and I wanted Ned, Natasha, and Loki, there's one scene accounted for. I had to get their side of things and wanted that trio together. I needed a Tony POV, and I wanted Tony and Cap bickering, so those went together, plus I got 1299's POV of Ohnn and his plans explained.

I needed to have Peter explaining more about his trauma, and Dick and Peter to talk/get closer. I wanted a Nightwing POV, to have Peter say his last name, and them doing gymnastics. I knew Peter wouldn't willingly talk about that, so I had him have a nightmare. Not only did it give readers perspective but it made Peter more susceptible to talking to Nightwing because he was more emotionally vulnerable/lonely, and that's how that scene came together.

That's when I would write down the chronological order of these events by writing out "Scene Blocks." (This is what I wrote down but my handwriting was so bad I can't subject y'all to it):

scene 1- Ned talking to Loki. Natasha should be nearby and observing Loki's behavior. They are not on friendly terms. Ned is more worried about Peter than he is as to what Loki could be up to, so Natasha takes on that role.

scene 2- Tony is freaking out about Peter being in an alt dimension. He should attack Ohnn when he's not prepared for it. Beat his ass? Beat his ass. Cap there too.

scene 3- Peter's nightmare. "Ben, where do you go when you die?" "Where do you think?" "With you. Where you went."

scene 4- Nightwing and Peter.

Of course, things come to attention when writing. Like originally, Tony and Cap were arguing in the Tower. But it was a little too much like his and Natasha's argument, and I kept in mind that Tony is smart. Sometimes I forget that the characters are smarter than I am, so I have to account for what they would figure out. So Tony would have picked up the puzzle pieces and come to more conclusions than I originally thought about, and I figured he'd be way more proactive about it than just. Being in the Tower and waiting.

Which means that that scene ended up being as listed above: having a squabble with Cap, learning more about Peter's dynamic with the Avengers in this universe, and seeing how Tony is reacting to it by throwing himself head first into trying to capture Ohnn.

I'll realize I need something else to be mentioned or put in and I'll have to shimmy things around, but that's basically how it goes.

As for other forms of organization:

Keeping a timeline is so important because it tells you a lot about the environment your characters are in. It's also important to remember what a character has on them, what money they've spent, who they've met/who you have mentioned, every alias that is being used, to read your work and write down edits you want to make before you make them, to write down ideas beforehand of situations you can use, and, most importantly: MAKE A MAP!! This has saved me so many times. Sometimes your brain WILL trick you or make it harder on you to envision a scene. Make a map of where your characters are physically!! It will save you too!!

As for foreshadowing and plot points, I'll let you in on yet another secret:

Your subconscious is doing a lot more than you think it is.

Sometimes when I foreshadow something, I didn't even know I was until I got to it. I very often go back to read chapters that came before this to see what I've mentioned and what I haven't, and when I do, I'll see something and go "I have to bring this back" or "I almost forgot about that!"

Other times, I am very aware of what I'm foreshadowing, and that's because I follow a mystery plot formula. You have to keep in mind everyone's intentions, all the time. How are they feeling? What are their motivations? And: what are they doing right now, while this character is doing this?

Like Beck and Ohnn. From the very beginning, I knew I had to make sure that it was obvious Ohnn wasn't working alone. From there, I had to weave through the story and slowly build him up as someone who's working behind the scenes. Even from Ned's first POV, I made sure to mention that this person knows Tony and is tech savvy.

My biggest tip is to make sure you reread your work or at least skip through it, because sometimes you don't even know that you placed something there.

And sometimes, it's very purposeful. :)

I hope this helped! I really tried to keep it short but I am insane and the process is sooooo long. It sounds complicated but it really is simple when you're actually doing it I swear

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genericpuff · 7 months ago

Note

I've been seeing you say/speculate Rachel Smythe has been cut loose from webtoon, could you elaborate what you mean by that?

It's only a tinfoil hat theory that people should take with MOUNTAINS of salt (seriously, I'm more likely to believe that Rachel really is just done with LO), but there's a general suspicion that LO wasn't meant to end here and that Webtoons decided to cut the cord. I've made a post about it before but some new stuff has surfaced since then.

1.) The announcement the series was ending was made quietly at NYCC and not shared to either Webtoons' socials or Rachel's socials.

The only way fans initially knew about the series ending was through a screencap from the Discord where someone else who had been attending NYCC passed on the info from a Q&A that LO would be entering its final arc.

For a good while the only other way to know the series was ending was through the Discord, a Cosmopolitan article, and my own post.

Though it sounds odd for a series to get cancelled halfway through its third season, it's not uncommon for Webtoons to suddenly axe series while they're on their midseason hiatuses, it's happened before. So there's a general suspicion that Rachel may have found out during NYCC that LO would only be given one more arc.

2.) The actual finale announcement was made in a text post on Instagram that suddenly announced it would be ending on May 11th, despite the fact that there was still lots to wrap up in the story.

What this implies is that Rachel was given one more arc, with no concrete end date... until Webtoons told her to wrap it up in a limited number of episodes, hence why despite us knowing it was in its final arc, the end date still felt too soon. This is also supported by the fact that her initial announcement was vaguely "early/mid 2024" - she couldn't give a more accurate end date because she didn't plan for the actual ending.

3.) Things that Rachel has said implies that she was either hoping for the final arc to go on longer, or that she didn't think LO was going to be ending now.

(that "nothing is set in stone" quote further supports the theory that she may have been hoping to get renewed in spite of the lukewarm ending announcement - that the only reason the announcement was so quiet was because WT hadn't fully committed to it yet and wanted to see how the series would do upon its return; now that they see it falling behind to other series, it might mean WT became more sure in their decision to cut it and gave her an actual deadline to wrap it up by.)

4.) Webtoons has stopped promoting Lore Olympus despite it ending.

Any promotional spots that it has gotten have been stuffed into the dead zone of the banner reels (seriously, anything past the 3rd spot is practically useless because it takes actual committed scrolling to get there vs. the first 1-3 banner spots which can be seen as soon as you open the app/site) and the banner art itself does not in any way advertise the series being in its final arc. These banners also only seem to be appearing for a day at most, compared to the days upwards of weeks they used to get.

Webtoons also hasn't been doing any sort of promoting on their socials for it. Considering The Mafia Nanny has been consistently beating out LO in the top rankings for weeks now, and that LO's rating and view count is still dropping, it appears that Webtoons has finally given up on shoving it down people's throats and put their focus elsewhere.

Again, this is all tinfoil hat speculation, so take it with massive doses of salt. Considering this is Webtoons, I wouldn't be surprised if they finally decided to put LO out of its misery, but this is also Rachel and I wouldn't blame her in the slightest if she finally wanted to be done with it after the past two years of people clowning on it. And I say that knowing I, myself, am a clown LOL

Either way, I feel like either outcome is plausible in its own ways, but whatever is the true reason, it doesn't change the fact that LO is ending and has 3 episodes left to wrap itself up. And whatever comes after will likely involve the launch of Inklore which was estimated for the spring.

#lore olympus critical #anti lore olympus #lo critical #anon ask me anything #anon ama #ama #ask me anything

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nebulousbrainsoup · 11 months ago

Text

Day One

🏔️ SUMMARY: Something has been missing for the past few years Wooyoung has been to the mountain with your family and his. Maybe this year, he'll figure out what it is. 🏔️ PAIRING: brother's best friend!Jung Wooyoung x Kang!reader 🏔️ GENRE: smut, fluff 🏔️ AU/TROPE INFO: brother's best friend, mutual pining, childhood friends to lovers 🏔️ WORD COUNT: 6.2k whoops 🏔️ WARNINGS: language, smut, woosansang banter, sansang undertones 🏔️ RATING: mature 🏔️ A/N: Happy holidays from your CoDNet secret santa, @wooyoungqueen! This was so much fun to write, and I really hope you enjoy it!! it got a little away from me lol smut tags under the cut ; divs from @cafekitsune masterlist | join my taglist | buy me a coffee?

NSFW TAGS/WARNINGS: first time together, light praise kink, fingering, oral (fem receiving), wooyoung’s nose, they’re both switches, unprotected sex (reader is on birth control but boo), riding

The weeks following Wooyoung’s birthday had been a flurry of activity for nearly as long as he could remember. Whatever energy had been put into planning his celebration was rapidly redirected to coordinating the family’s annual trip to the mountains—an event that seemed to grow with him. It had been going on for as long as he could remember, beginning as a much-needed post-holiday getaway for his household. The first expansion came in middle school, when he met and attached himself to Kang Yeosang—the two families melded together naturally when the Kangs moved in next door, and one cabin rental became two, right next to each other and nestled among the pines at the Jungs’ favorite resort. It had been on one of these early trips that you and Wooyoung had become nearly as attached to each other as he and your older brother had been and, much to Yeosang’s chagrin at the time, their duo became a trio.

Despite Wooyoung and Yeosang having graduated and moved out, they both still found themselves drawn back to that same resort year after year. You, on the other hand, had not been so lucky. Your degree had proven a bit more demanding than either your brother’s or Wooyoung’s and, after your first year, they found themselves sharing deflated smiles as they watched you breeze through your parents’ front door after Christmas dinner. Something within Wooyoung ached each time, and the cabin he now shared with his brothers and yours—the cabins had long since been shuffled from ‘Jung’ and ‘Kang’ to ‘Parents’ and ‘Kids’—never quite felt the same.

He’d never quite figured out why his favorite tradition had begun to taste so bittersweet. Maybe, he decided, it was the monotony finally getting to him. Yeosang liked to call him a child of chaos, reminding him often that his creative slumps usually just meant he needed a change of scenery. He’d discovered every nook and cranny in both of the cabins they rented each year by the time he was 14. He’d been through every freestyle zone and explored every tree trail his board could fit through over the years, and even taught Kyungmin a few tricks. Now that he was of age, he’d been to every bar within walking distance of the slopes, too. The novelty had to have worn off; he’d seen and done it all. He’d give anything to see his safe haven for the first time again.

Maybe, just maybe, seeing it through someone else’s eyes would have the desired effect.

“Sannie, you said you snowboard, right?” He called from the couch, barely glancing up from his phone.

Wooyoung’s roommate blinked at him from the kitchen, leaned against the breakfast bar with his spoon halfway to his mouth. “I have before. I don’t… do it regularly.”

“And you had fun, right?”

San blinked, confused, and let his cereal settle back into its bowl. “Yeah? What is this about, Wooyoung?”

“Great! You’re coming on the ski trip this year.”

“Are you paying?” San scoffed half in jest, rolling his eyes heartily before turning his attention back to the book he had pinned to the counter.

“Yes.”

The flat tone of Wooyoung’s voice had him stunned, eyes wide as he slowly looked back up. “Are you serious right now?” When the younger nodded resolutely, no twinkle of mischief in his eyes, San gaped. “You’re not going to come up short on rent for this, are you?”

Wooyoung snorted. “No. It’s a family thing. My older brother can’t go anymore, so we’ve got an empty spot. Wanna come?”

“Absolutely.”

Pulling up to the cabin two months later with San in the passenger seat of his rented

SUV, he was certain he’d found the piece he’d been missing over the past few years. His friend’s excitement was palpable and contagious, the elder’s leg bouncing furiously and his cheeks split into a wide grin as he drank in the scenery. Wooyoung couldn’t help but laugh a little as he launched himself from the car the moment it was in park, spinning in the snow-covered driveway to take in the full view.

“Do you really come here every year?” He asked, his voice a little breathless with awe.

Wooyoung grinned, nodding. “Since I was a kid. We stayed in the cabin next door until I was in high school, but that’s for the real adults now,” he snorted a laugh. “Once Sangie and I hit high school, we were trustworthy enough to watch my little brother, I guess, and it’s been kids and parents since. My older brother usually stays with us too, but he has some work thing, I guess.” San nodded, silent and still staring, and Wooyoung couldn’t help but watch him for a moment with a stupid grin. “C’mon, help me unload before everyone else gets here. Yeosangie’s ruthless about first-come, first-serve room picking.”

That seemed to snap his roommate from his awe-struck stupor, and within moments, they found themselves wrapped in the familiar warmth of the cabin. Crossing the threshold into resounding silence had a pang of something wrong echoing in Wooyoung’s chest, and he frowned for a moment as he tugged his boots off.

“This is nice.”

San’s voice tugged him out of his thoughts, and Wooyoung forced a smile. “Right? Follow me, the good bed’s upstairs.”

They were each draped over separate arms of the couch, half-focused on the drama Wooyoung had put on, when the rumble of tires on the driveway pulled him from his half-asleep daze. San perked up with him, eyebrows raising as he blinked at his friend in question. “Your parents?”

Wooyoung gave a noncommittal shrug. “Or the Kangs.”

“Should we see if they need help?” He offered, standing and heading for the door.

“Fuck that, it’s cold as shit out there,” the younger complained, nestling further into his blanket cocoon. “Have fun freezing your ass off.”

“So thoughtful of you, Wooyoung-ah,” San teased, disregarding the grumble that left his friend.

He listened as the front door shut and his friend called a greeting toward the car, a familiar female voice responding. Huffing a sigh, he turned his attention back to the TV. He could deal with his mother’s chastising of his terrible hosting later.

What he hadn’t been expecting, however, was the door of his own cabin to swing back open wide minutes later, a blast of cold air cutting through the air along with an all-too-familiar laugh. His chest tightened inexplicably as it rang like a bell, San’s low chuckle echoing after it, and he turned toward the sounds.

“Two years, and you can’t even come help me with my suitcase, Youngie?”

At the sound of your voice, Wooyoung felt the air around him shift. The cold light filtering in through the windows seemed to warm with your entry, and all at once, the vast, empty cabin once again felt full. He stood, eyes wide and shining with glee as his jaw dropped open for a moment, his chest tightening with something he refused to acknowledge. Schooling his expression into his usual mischievous smirk, he crossed his arms over his chest. “You’re a big girl, Y/N, you could handle it yourself.”

You sighed heartily, rolling your eyes playfully before turning your gaze to San, who was busy shutting the door behind you. “At least chivalry isn’t completely dead.”

He perked up with wide, round eyes, flashing a megawatt smile at you, and Wooyoung felt the cabin dim a little again. “It’s no problem at all. Where do you, uh… Wooyoung hasn’t given me the full tour, so I’m not sure where to take your stuff.”

Once again, your mirthful gaze turned toward your childhood friend, and his smirk ticked back up. “I assume this one took the good bed all for himself already.”

“The early bird catches the worm, and all that,” he taunted back, San nodding affirmation beside you.

You clicked your tongue in disapproval, sighing and shaking your head. “Can’t even let me enjoy it. I have to get my gear from the car, but I can show you when I get back in, if this one’s still intent on becoming one with the couch.” You nodded back toward Wooyoung, pulling a bark of laughter from San, and something within the younger twisted.

“I can show him, go get your stuff,” he sighed, waving you away as he started for the hall. San glanced between the two of you for a moment before catching your amused, warm smile and, confusion alleviated, followed his friend.

“You didn’t tell me your friend had a sister.”

Wooyoung hummed quietly in acknowledgement, pushing open the downstairs bedroom door. He hadn’t stayed in this room in years, preferring to curl up in the upstairs bedroom with Yeosang and leave this space for his brothers, and for a moment, he was surprised at how small it felt. The twin beds in their corners and the heavy wooden dresser had seemed impossibly big, once upon a time, and lonely as the moonlight filtered through the blinds. Now, the space felt close and cozy, the patterned quilts and stripes of sunlight bathing the room making it look like something out of a catalog. Wooyoung’s chest tightened again and he smiled, nostalgia settling like a blanket around his shoulders.

“Honestly, I didn’t think it would be relevant,” he admitted, pulling open the closet door to check for extra blankets. “You can put her stuff on the bed by the window; she prefers that one.” Behind him, San’s eyes narrowed. “Like she said, it’s been a couple of years since she’s been here, and nobody told me she was coming.”

“Are there going to be enough beds?”

Wooyoung paused, lips pursed in thought and hands on his hips as he turned to face San. “That… Is a very good question. I think we have air mattresses? Worst case, we can stick the kid on the couch or something. We’ll worry about it when—” The sound of a car horn cut him off, and Wooyoung peered through the blinds to peek at the driveway, a grin splitting his face. “After everyone else is through unloading. C’mon, we can still hide in the bedroom if we hurry.”

San fixed him with a flat look, shaking his head gently. “I am going to be nice and help your family unload their car. You can come with me, or you can leave me unattended to gossip with your mom for however long this takes.”

Wooyoung blinked owlishly until San turned to leave, following along behind his roommate on autopilot. “I hate you,” he muttered as they paused to tug on their boots, and San grinned.

Preparations for the traditional, joint-family, first night dinner were underway as you bustled around the kitchen with Wooyoung and both of your mothers. Yeosang and San had both offered their assistance; your brother had been met with a resounding, unanimous ‘No’ from the four of you, which he responded to with a cheeky grin and a small giggle, and San had immediately rescinded his offer. It felt natural for the four of you to be here together again, dancing around each other with a practiced ease as your mothers set themselves up at the island, massive metal bowls and all of the ingredients for kimchi spread out between them. You and Wooyoung quickly sidled up together at the stove, whisking the tteokbokki and potstickers that had been waiting into the living room to keep your fathers, siblings and Wooyoung’s friend occupied while you made the main course. You weren’t surprised to find your brother sat on the floor, his arms open as Kyungmin rushed him for a hug, but you caught the small, choked noise Wooyoung made at the sight of San alongside the pair. You flashed him a private little smile, and a swarm of butterflies kicked up in his stomach.

When you settled at the stove together, you nudged him with your hip, prompting a huff of laughter and a return of the gesture.

“I like your friend.”

Wooyoung nearly dropped the skillet in his hand, the heavy dish clattering against the stovetop loud enough to put a stop to your mothers’ conversation. They peeked back at you, but Wooyoung waved them off as he swallowed bile.

“San?” There was an edge to his voice, he could tell, and he could only hope you hadn’t noticed it, too.

“Yeah,” you nodded, seemingly oblivious as you stirred black bean paste and brown sugar together. “He fits in well and he’s really sweet. You should bring him every year.”

Something vile twisted in Wooyoung’s gut. “Maybe. I’ll see if he wants to come back. Who knows, maybe you’ll scare him off?” He snarked, flashing you a wicked grin. You barked a laugh, elbowing him and earning a squawk of indignation as his pork-filled skillet shifted over the fire. “Careful, you’ll burn dinner! Or worse, me!”

“What’s this about you being the worst?” Yeosang chimed as he slipped over to the fridge, his sudden appearance pulling a shout from the man next to you.

“Oh my god, you need a fucking bell!”

“Watch your mouth, there are children present,” you chastised, clicking your tongue. “We were talking about San,” you supplied as you turned back to your work, and Wooyoung frowned. Yeosang caught the look before he could wipe it away, cocking an eyebrow and smirking knowingly over the neck of his bottle.

Whatever that meant.

Wooyoung glared at him.

“I like him,” Yeosang offered, “he’s sweet. And handsome.” Wooyoung flashed him another glare, this time unintentionally, and your brother shrugged innocently.

You, completely unaware, hummed in agreement. “I was telling Youngie he should bring him back next year. Maybe we could talk to Mom about swapping cabins so I could bring Somin with me and introduce them; they’d be a cute couple.”

The nastiness in Wooyoung’s gut untwisted, and he sighed silently. “I like that idea!”

“I don’t,” Yeosang grumbled, frowning. “Then I’ll be stuck as the fifth wheel.”

You both whipped your heads up to him, brows furrowed in confusion. You thanked whoever was listening that your brother was on the other side of Wooyoung, because you flushed bright pink at his teasing. He was well aware of the little crush you had on your mutual best friend, and he took every opportunity to tease you for it.

“Last I checked, everyone else here was single, and that’s probably not going to change any time soon,” you huffed, stirring the mixture in the wok with a bit more vitriol. Yeosang hid his smile behind his bottle as Wooyoung, too, glared at him.

“You never know,” he hummed, sauntering off back into the living room.

The silence that fell between you and Wooyoung held more tension, this time, as you both processed. Wooyoung stared at the kitchen backsplash, unblinking, until your voice broke him out of his thoughts.

“You’re burning the pork.” He startled, promptly pulling the skillet off the stove. You laughed, and just like that, things returned to normal. Shaking your head, you spooned the black bean paste into a bowl and offered him the wok. “I thought you said you knew how to cook now.”

Wooyoung huffed indignantly, hip bumping you to the side. “I can make jjajangmyeon.”

“That was mean, Yeosang, rubbing it in like that.”

Your brother hummed from his place on his bed, eyes glued to the ceiling. Lazily, he turned over and blinked at you. “I’m not rubbing anything in. I’m trying to open your eyes here. He’s been in love with you since we were kids, Y/N.”

You rolled your eyes, flopping onto your own mattress. “If he had been, he would have done something about it.” Yeosang snorted. “I’m serious! If there’s one thing I know about Wooyoung, it’s that he takes what he wants.”

“You think that rule applies to his best friend and other best friend’s sister? He’s probably worried I’ll be pissed if he tells me or something.”

Again, you rolled your eyes.

“I wouldn’t, honestly,” San replied, eyes wide as he tracked Wooyoung, pacing the floor in front of him. “I know how mad I’d be if it turned out you were in love with Haneul.”

“That’s what I’m saying, Sannie,” Wooyoung huffed, collapsing on his back and spreading out across the mattress. He squirmed, situating himself with his head in San’s lap, and the elder obliged, petting at his hair. “But she’s so pretty.”

“She is,” he agreed, holding his hands up in surrender as Wooyoung glared daggers at him. “I’m just saying! Your friend’s sister is pretty! Would you rather I disagree?”

Wooyoung huffed a sigh, frowning and settling back into his roommate’s lap. “God, this week is gonna suck. Having her here is like… It feels better, but it also feels worse, y’know? She’s so close but so far away.”

“You could always, like… Ask Yeosang for permission, first.”

“Didn’t you just advise me against that? Whose side are you on here?”

San shrugged. “I’m just trying to help so I don’t have to listen to you complain all week on the slopes.”

Wooyoung reached up, the back of his hand coming into contact with San’s shoulder and pulling a pained noise from him.

In the morning, you were all up early. Breakfast was a quick, chaotic affair of the four of you cycling in and out of the kitchen, breezing past each other and shouting across the cabin as you made plans. Within an hour of pulling Yeosang from the comfort of his bed, you were all crammed into Wooyoung’s SUV, flasks on your hip to warm you in the snow and your gear strapped to the ski rack. Yeosang, much to your surprise, had slipped into the back seat before you'd even left the house, and was chatting away happily with San as you slid in the passenger seat.

“Who are you and what have you done with Kang Yeosang?” you teased, flashing your brother a skeptical half-glare. He huffed a breath through his nose and rolled his eyes, flopping sideways to lay his head on San’s shoulder, The man flushed bright red but he didn’t flinch or pull away, and you filed that information away for later.

“I made a friend. Let me enjoy him.” You thought San flushed brighter at that.

“Good luck, Sannie, you’re never getting rid of him,” you warned good-naturedly, flashing him a smile in the rearview mirror.

He gave a nervous half-smile, nodding. “Can’t imagine wanting to.”

Your brother’s lips pursed into a small ‘o’, and you watched with a grin as pink dusted his cheeks, too.

Wooyoung seemed surprised by your presence in the front seat, too, as he poked his head in and met you with a “deer-in-the-headlights” look. “That’s not the Yeosang I know.”

You gestured at him, smacking his arm lightly as he climbed into the car. “That’s what I said!”

He grinned, laughing his signature, unfiltered cackle, and your heart clenched. “God, I’m glad you’re back.”

Whether or not Wooyoung noticed the way you sheepishly smiled at your lap, your brother did. He grinned, nudging San, who blinked at him in confusion. This would be a fun week.

The four of you began the day together, meeting at the base lodge with the rest of your family to distribute lift tickets and set an emergency and end-of-day meeting point. You started as you always did, cruising down some of the shorter greens at the base of the mountain as a whole unit as you got your legs under you. You, Wooyoung and Yeosang were ready to crank it up in minutes and, for the most part, your parents were ready to follow. Kyungmin and San were falling more than the rest of you, the former sticking close to his brother and the latter frowning and sighing as he fell into the snow. Yeosang chuckled and laughed at the pout visible under his helmet, skiing over to offer the snowboarder a hand up, and you were left alone to drink in the scene.

You sighed happily, staring up at the peak and drinking in the scenery as you leaned on your poles. People darted and dashed around you, cutting through the snow with ease and creating the perfect soundscape of white noise. You didn’t notice when Wooyoung slid up nex to you until he spoke, startling you out of your reverie.

“Penny for your thoughts?”

You jumped, leaning hard on your poles and reaching out to steady yourself. Wooyoung dropped his board into the snow and planted his boots, arms wrapping around your middle as you stumbled on your skis. Sighing as you found your balance again, you rested your hands on his arms, eyes slipping shut.

“Thank you,” you hummed, turning over your shoulder with a smile to—oh.

He was so close to you. You felt your cheeks heat again, this time not from the sting of the cold. “You’re… welcome,” he muttered, and you felt your heart leap into your chest.

“Hyung!” You nearly fell back over as you and Wooyoung jumped apart at his little brother’s excited cry. “Did you finally tell Y/N-ie that you love her?!”

When you looked back at Wooyoung, stunned, he stood stock-still, his expression unreadable under his helmet. The tension could be cut with a knife as silence settled between you.

It was your brother that saved you, head snapping toward you like a meerkat at Kyungmin’s shout. With a quick word to San, he zipped over, calling out to the youngest. “Kyungmin-ah! Why don’t you come help Sannie? He’s having a little trouble.”

“But Yeosang-hyung—”

Before the boy could protest further, your brother grabbed his hand, tugging him across and along toward the rack San was sat beside, leaving you and Wooyoung alone.

“Y/N, I—”

“You love me?”

You both began at once, but your words cut through the air like a war cry.

Wooyoung was quiet for a beat and you squirmed, glancing away to your brother for an escape. He afforded no assistance, his back turned to you and shielding the younger Jung’s gaze in a way you knew must have been intentional.

Finally, he spoke, he voice barely audible over the roar of the lodge activity. “I always have.”

You huffed a sigh, rolling your eyes and shuffling on your skis, starting away. “Of course you have, Wooyoung. Like a brother does, always. Never anything more.”

“No, Y/N, you’re wrong.”

You froze as he called after you, turning over your shoulder to stare at him. He had taken his helmet off, it and his goggles hanging limply at his side, giving you a window into his heart through his warm brown eyes. He swallowed thickly and stepped forward, offering out a hand. His was shaking just as much as yours was as you took it, using him to balance as you popped your skis off. He gave you no time to pick them up before he was in front of you and dropping his helmet to the ground, taking your other hand in his and breathing a quick sigh.

“I wanted this to be romantic and blow you away and this may not be the best time, but god dammit if I don’t tell you now, I might never.” He paused, taking another breath. “It’s been more since I knew what ‘more’ meant. I’ve loved you for as long as I can remember—not as your brother or his best friend. I love you for you; for the woman you are, the girl you always have been, and whoever you may become. You are… so gorgeous and so sweet, and I’d do anything to call you mine.”

You were beaming at him, clenching his fingers tight like a vice as he paused. The silence had him squirming, you could see, and you scrambled for something, anything to match his heartfelt confession. In the end, what came out of your mouth was, “All you have to do is ask.”

“Kang Y/N, will you do me the incomparable honor of being my girlfriend?” His grin matched yours.

“Yes, absolutely,” you sighed, breathless between the mountain air and the affectionate tightness in your chest.

The next instant, his lips were on yours, and you grasped desperately at his shoulders as you scrabbled for your footing in the snow. Behind you, you thought you heard San cheer, and you laughed quietly against Wooyoung’s lips. When you parted, breathless for an entirely new reason, you were happy to find your boyfriend just as disheveled, beaming at you like you hung the stars.

“I love you, Y/N.”

“I love you too, Wooyoung.”

Out of sight—not that you would have noticed—your brother held out a fist for Kyungmin to bump.

“What was that you said about ‘never having a chance?’” Yeosang teased over dinner that night, the four of you sprawled out between the two couches in your cabin. You pulled your sweater over your face to hide your embarrassment, snuggling deeper into Wooyoung’s arms.

“Oh, shut up! He’s been your best friend and one of mine since we were kids. How was I supposed to know—”

“You were supposed to trust his best friend and your brother, is what should have happened,” he huffed.

“How did you even know?!” Wooyoung protested. You could hear his glare.

“You’re not subtle, she’s just oblivious.”

“Hey!”

“That’s my girlfriend you’re talking about!”

Yeosang sighed, rolling his eyes heartily and pushing himself up off the couch. “I’m already sick of third wheeling. San, come help me move your stuff so they can have their own room.”

Wooyoung grinned against your neck, squeezing you tight. “Oh, they might regret that,” he hummed in your ear, tapping your thigh to guide you off of his lap. “I’ll help! Sannie can stay.”

Your brother raised an eyebrow, the corner of his mouth ticking up in a smirk. “Oh, now he’s helpful. A changed man.”

“Only the best for my princess,” he teased, shooting you a wink over his shoulder. You pulled your sweater up over your nose again, grinning and hiding your flush.

An hour later, your stuff had been moved into the upstairs bedroom with Wooyoung’s, and Yeosang and San were gathering their gear. You turned to peer at them over the back of the sofa, eyes wide and innocent. “Where are you off to?”

“We saw signs for night skiing, and he was interested,” your brother explained, jabbing a thumb over his shoulder. “I didn’t want to leave him with mom and dad, so I’m going too. I think Wooyoung was thinking about coming, but…” he gave you a knowing look. “I thought if we gave you a couple hours of alone time, we could sleep tonight.”

Your cheeks heated. “Yeosang!”

“Thank you, bye, have fun!” Wooyoung called as he slid up behind you and looped his arms around your waist. “That’s enough talk about our future sex life. Be safe.”

“Two and a half hours,” your brother warned, giving you both a pointed glance. Behind him, San’s cheeks were tinged pink. “Remember what I said.”

This was directed over your shoulder to Wooyoung who, when you turned, had gone a little pale. The door shut with a purposeful slam and you turned in his arms, cupping his face.

“What did he say?”

“That, uh… If he hears anything, he’ll give our moms the details. And tell your dad.”

“We’d better get it out of our systems while he’s out then, huh?”

You’d watched Wooyoung short-circuit before over Yeosang babbling on about his engineering studies, mostly. Being the reason he did so now, especially when it was enhanced by the pretty pink tinge that rose in his cheeks and ears, was an entirely new and delightful experience.

“Unless you don’t—” you began when the silence stretched, only to be cut off by his lips on your own.

“Absolutely the hell not,” he practically growled, and you felt your knees go a little weak. “I’ve waited way too long to have you—I’m not waiting any longer.”

“Then don’t,” you breathed, stepping back from him and catching his hand in yours as it fell between you.

The two of you practically dashed up the stairs, barely pausing to kick the door shut and lock it before your lips were pressed together again, both hungry for each other. His hands ran up your sides and under your sweater, rucking it up and grabbing at the soft skin he found underneath. Your fingers tangled in his hair and tugged, pulling a pretty moan from him that you wanted to hear more of right then and there. He gave you no time, however, spinning you and walking you back toward the bed.

When your knees hit the mattress, you both fell in a giggling heap onto it, Wooyoung caging you in below him with his hands on either side of your head. His lips found your jaw the moment you both settled and he let his eyes flutter shut as he trailed kisses down your throat. There would be time to watch you come apart for him later; now, he wanted to bask in all the pretty little sounds you let out as he worked you up. It didn’t take long before you were squirming under him, hands grasping at his hair while his lips and hands sought each other through the barrier of your sweater. When his lips reached your neckline, he guided you up and pulled your sweater over your head, tossing it to the side, your bra quickly following.

He sat back on his heels, hands on your waist to keep you upright as he drank you in, eyes wide and earnest. You felt your cheeks heat, tugging at the hem of his own shirt to resist the urge to cover yourself. He obliged immediately, the garment discarded like yours, and your hands immediately found his skin. Wooyoung shivered as you ran your fingers up his chest, tracing over the lines of his abs and ghosting over his nipples, delighting at the shiver that lit down his spine and the whine that spilled from his lips.

In the next moment, his lips were on yours and he was guiding you onto your back once more. His hands stopped only to squeeze your breasts and tweak at your nipples in return, pulling a gasp from you and a grin from him, before they came to rest at your waistband, fingers dipping under it. You lifted your hips obediently, your lounge pants and underwear being pulled off and shucked away at once and earning a purr of “Good girl,” from Wooyoung.

You whimpered at that and he grinned, raising an eyebrow at you as he lowered himself between your legs. “Noted,” he hummed, pressing a kiss to the inside of your thigh. “Sit there and look pretty for me while I open you up, okay.”

At a loss for words, you nodded dumbly, gasping as his lips met your skin again. You melted back into the pillows with a moan as his breath ghosted over your core, hips twitching in anticipation. “W-Wooyoung,” you tried. He grinned wickedly up at you.

“Don’t worry, sweetheart. I’ll take care of you.”

Without another word, he was pressing his tongue to you and lapping a fat stripe up your core, flicking his tongue over your clit with a little flourish. You squirmed and he grinned against you, moaning into your heat as you tugged at his hair, silently begging him to come closer. He obliged and buried his tongue between your folds, the curve of his nose bumping against your sensitive bundle of nerves as he lost himself in your taste.

His hands came up under you to cup at your ass, kneading at the soft flesh as your thighs landed over his shoulders. You whimpered and squirmed, thighs twitching by his ears, and Wooyoung couldn’t think of any place he’d rather be. His fingers prodded against your entrance and he glanced up questioningly as your hips jerked, as if both you and your body were unsure if you wanted more or less. The sight that met him was one of beauty; your hair was spread across the pillows around you and the hand that wasn’t tangled in Wooyoung’s hair had begun kneading at your breast—and Wooyoung rutted down into the mattress with a low groan.

You nodded frantically as he pressed more insistently against your core, and he quickly slipped a finger into you, preening at the sigh you let out. He worked it slowly in contrast to his quick tongue, and the difference quickly had you seeing stars. Eyes still locked on your writhing form, he pressed a second finger in with the first and crooked them up, seeking out your sweet spot. The moment he found it, he grinned, committing the little squeak of pleasure that left you to memory for later.

It took seconds, then, for the coil in your gut to snap, and your back arched off the bed as you rode out your high against Wooyoung’s sinful mouth. His eyes were wide and innocent as he worked you over your peak with no sign of halting, only freeing you from your torment when you tugged him back by his hair. He surfaced with a gasp and a grin you quickly wiped off his face as you crashed your lips against his own.

There was no time for him to react as you shoved him down next to you and climbed into his lap, settling your weight over his clothed cock. He groaned and winced, neglected length throbbing painfully at the sudden stimulation. You giggled and he glared, hands settling on your hips to encourage you to start grinding against him. With a coy smile, you moved his hands back to the sheets and shifted back to his thighs, fingers tucking under his waistband. What you found made you freeze, and you were gifted with another beautiful Wooyoung giggle as he grinned up at you.

“You were expecting this, weren’t you?” You muttered as you tugged his pants down and, just as you had guessed, found no underwear beneath.

He shook his head, expression suddenly softer. “Expecting, never. Hoping?” He grinned like a Cheshire and leaned forward, cupping your ass and dragging you up to press your core against him. “Always,” he purred, darting up to catch your lips once more.

You hummed happily as you ground down against him, the friction welcome but far too little after experiencing his tongue and fingers. “Wooyoung,” you managed between kisses, shifting further up so his head caught on your entrance. “Wanna ride you baby, please?”

He let out a wrecked groan and nodded, wrapping an arm around you to lift you as the other positioned his cock at your entrance. “Wait, shit,” he murmured, shifting under you. You whined, thighs clenching to keep him in place. “Condom.”

“I’m on birth control,” you muttered, grinding against him, “wanna feel you, please.”

Wooyoung cursed, hips rolling up against your own. “Don’t have to tell me twice.”

You beamed, pressing another quick kiss to his lips as he lined himself back up. His hands held you steady, setting the pace for you as he filled you inch-by-inch and you whined in protest, brow furrowing. Pressing his wrists down into the sheets, you sat yourself on his cock in one fluid motion, pulling cries from both of you. Ravenous, you slotted your lips against his and immediately began riding him in earnest, grinning against his lips at the squeak he let out.

“F-Fuck, babydoll,” he gasped out, hands returning to your hips when yours grasped the headboard for balance. “Not gonna last if you keep at this—shit.”

“Play with my clit,” you breathed, walls clenching around him at the hungry look he gave in return, “and I won’t either.”

Wordlessly, he nodded, tongue flicking out to wet his thumb before settling over your clit, pushing back the hood before rubbing tight circles over it. You let out a broken shout and he moaned quietly, cock twitching pleasantly inside you.

“G-G’nna…” he gasped, swallowing thickly as he staved off his climax.

You nodded, pace picking up just barely as you chased your releases. A moment later, your walls began fluttering around him and your back arched, mouth open in a silent scream as you plummeted over your peak. The sight of you was all it took for Wooyoung to follow, reaching up and pulling you down into his chest as he emptied into you.

The silence was jarring when you both came back to your senses, only the sound of your heavy breaths filling the space now. You sighed with a smile and let your eyes flutter shut, allowing yourself to bask in the afterglow before the sweat would force you to the bathroom. Your boyfriend held you tight, pressing kisses into your hair as his hands roamed over your back.

“I love you, Wooyoungie,” you murmured sleepily, smiling as you felt him chuckle.

“I love you too, Y/N-ie,” he replied readily.

“This is the best year yet.”

He beamed. “And it’s only day one.”

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