#she's so fucking starved for their threads

[aquaticmercy]

Blood and Kin

Part 3 of Dark Necessities

Summary : You desperately drank Bucky’s blood when you were starving. You found out that there are consequences to your actions.

Pairing : Bucky Barnes x half-vampire!reader (she/her in mind)

Warnings/tags : Cursing. 

Word count : 2k

Note : Reader is a daywalker like Blade. And yes, I finally turned this into a series! The name Dead Club City is inspired by the Nothing but Thieves album.

I’m starting a taglist for this so let me know if you wanna be on it!

edit: the first couple of hours that this was up I accidentally posted an unrefined draft but now it’s all fixed. Sorry for the mistake!

Eric stood in the doorway, shadows casting hard lines across his forehead. His eyes locked onto you, then moved Bucky, before trailing back to you with a grief that ran bone-deep. 

It was a look you’d never seen on him before, one so intense it seemed to make the walls tremble. Eric’s presence consumed the room, his rage dense, like a storm ready to tear everything in its path.

“Get out,” he growled at John through gritted teeth. For a second, he looked ready to argue. Then he stopped himself, retreating silently. He knew better than to question Blade, than to disagree with him. 

Eric’s face was thunderous, his rage a force that practically sucked the oxygen out of the room. He was livid— no, furious— in a way that was beyond anything you’d ever witnessed from him. The kind of anger that rolled out in waves, accompanied by a piercing stare you could feel through your skin.

He threw your shirts at you and Bucky, not caring if they even hit their mark, like the sight of you both —caught in this moment, bonded in ways he couldn’t forgive— was making him sick.

“You know what a blood bond is?” he spat, the sharpness like venom dripping from every word.

You pulled the shirt over your shoulders with trembling fingers, feeling every ounce of his anger pressing down on you, sinking into your skin like ice. 

“You’re like family to me, kid,” he said, his voice thick with something darker than rage, something akin to despair. “And you kept this— this thing from me?” 

You felt his anger float in the air, clawing its way beneath your skin.

You had nothing to say, no defense against the anger that poured from him. You knew you’d crossed a line and whatever was left between you and Eric was hanging by the barest, most fragile thread.

“I don’t know what this is,” you admitted in a  whisper.

“A Blood Bond is ancient, and it’s unforgiving.” Eric continued, his voice a hollow echo, like a tolling bell. “You think this fucking thing with Barnes is harmless?”

“I didn’t know,” you said, lips quivering, almost desperately this time. You jumped off the sink, feeling your footing steady on the bathroom floor.

Behind you, Bucky stepped forwards, his eyes flashing with a defiance that only seemed to fan the flames of Eric’s  rage.

“Of course you didn’t,” Eric snapped.

Bucky didn’t flinch. If anyone had the right to stand up to Eric, it was him. Eric had walked this earth for almost a hundred years now, so it was easy to forget that Bucky was older. He’d been different people, molded and broken by the cruelty he’d endured, bruised and battered, reprogrammed and reformed. He had seen depths of horror that even Eric hadn’t touched. That defiance in his eyes was forged in a hell, or at least if felt like it.

“She didn’t know,” Bucky said. “I didn’t know either. You can’t just disappear off the face of the earth for a month and blame her for doing the only thing she could have—”

“She should have done anything but this!” Eric’s glare turned on Bucky. The room contained a silent tension that was as volatile as dynamite waiting for a spark.

“Do you even understand what you’re putting her through?” Eric spat, his voice laced with venom. “You’ve tied her fate to yours in a way that can’t be undone. If either of you dies…” His voice cracked slightly, a flash of something softer breaking through before it was replaced with a grim determination. “It’s not just grief that takes over. It’s madness. The kind that drives vampires to tear cities apart, to leave rivers of blood in their wake.”

Bucky’s jaw clenched, but he said nothing, his silence a stubborn refusal to give Eric the satisfaction of seeing him falter.

Eric’s expression twisted, a bitter laugh escaping him. “This bond demands everything of you,” he continued, almost to himself, “And it won’t care about your good intentions or the life you’re trying to live.”

You could feel Bucky tense beside you, his fists curling tightly at his sides, the weight of Eric’s words cutting into him as deeply as they were to you. He was warning you, trying to pierce through the wall of denial you had built. He was trying to make you understand what you’d find at the end of this road— blood and ruin.

“I didn't know,” you repeated again, more to yourself than anyone else. There’s been so much information thrown at you, you were struggling to keep up, struggling to process everything.

Eric's voice dropped to a lethal whisper.  “Every account in history ends the same way: with a killing spree committed by one when the other dies. And you two think you’re the exception?”

Bucky’s lips tightened, his gaze fixed and defiant, though a flicker of doubt passed across his face. “I don’t do that anymore,” he said, almost to himself, voice thick with an uncertainty that betrayed him.

Eric stepped closer, voice barely more than a growl. “This bond doesn’t care who you think you are.”

“I didn't fucking know!” You shouted this time, probably enough for John to hear in the other room. Your fingers trembled, tongue lapping up the remnants of Bucky’s blood on your lips.

You couldn’t meet his gaze. Eric’s words finally started to sink in, every detail a nail in the coffin. 

Bucky’s hand brushed against yours, intertwining as if you were one.

Eric turned away, rubbing a hand over his jawline. “Tomorrow night, I’ll take you both to Dead Club City,” he said, the words sounding like a promise and a warning all at once. His voice cracked, bitter. “If anywhere has answers, it’s there.”

The name hit you like a blow to the chest. 

Dead Club City. The infamous blood bar, where vampires walked the line between survival and indulgence, drinking cocktails made of animal blood and a synthetic tonic that mimicked human blood.

You’ve been there, but only once. A long time ago.

But Eric’s mention of it was different; his tone made it sound less like a refuge and more like a last-ditch attempt to try and salvage your sanity.

—

That night, the room was wrapped in shadows, softened by the moonlight filtering through the curtains. Bucky sat beside you, watching as you lay deep in sleep, your brows in a gentle furrow. You looked so vulnerable, if only for a few hours. 

It had taken you a while to fall asleep— he could feel your worry in the back of his head through the bond. You were afraid— of Eric’s disapproval. Of disappointing him.

He brushed a strand of hair from your forehead, his fingers lingering on warmth of your skin. 

You were… everything to Bucky. And that scared him, more than he would ever admit. 

After a moment, he pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead. He made his way out of the room. His throat was dry, and only water would help.

The safehouse was silent as Bucky crept down the stairs. He was only halfway to the kitchen when he sensed someone already there, the faintest hum of steady breathing.

Under the dim light, he found Eric standing near the counter, motionless. 

So he couldn’t sleep, either. 

The two of them regarded each other in silence, neither sure of what to say after he caught you on the sink.

Bucky poured himself a glass of water, careful not to make a noise. He was unwilling to break the silent truce that they had.

Eric’s voice coming out low, almost as if he were speaking to himself. 

“Please take care of her, Barnes.” he murmured, “She’s the only one I have left. She’s… like kin to me.”

“Of course,” Bucky set his glass down, meeting Eric’s eyes with a steady look. He could see the unspoken fear that lay beneath the stoic facade of the dhampir. “You don’t even have to ask.”

Eric shook his head, a bitter laugh escaping him. “I don’t think you understand...”

“I do,” Bucky turned the tap off, unflinching. “She’s the love of my life.” The words came easily, as if they had been waiting to be said all along. “You’ve seen the things I’d do for her. The things I’d do because of her.”

He paused, a warmth creeping into his voice, his gaze softening as he thought of you asleep upstairs. “She… she gave me back pieces of myself I thought I’d lost forever. She’s not just a bond, Brooks. Not to me.”

Eric sighed, glancing at his own glass of blood replacement serum. He looked up, his voice dropping, almost wistful.

“You know, she wasn’t always like this,” he began, “when I found her, she wasn’t the person you know now. She was feral, half-starved. A teenage daywalker, struggling and dangerous. She… hated me at first. Thought I was just another person trying to control her.” He chuckled, his gaze drifting, as though seeing some distant memory. “She tried to run more times than I could count. Back then, she would have gladly ripped my throat out if she had the chance.”

Bucky listened, surprised but intrigued. He could picture her—wild, defiant, her spirit untamed and her strength untethered, raw. “I can see that,” he murmured with a smile. “The wild part still comes out from time to time.”

Eric nodded. “But she grew up. Somewhere in between all the blood and chaos, she learned discipline. We became… family. She even called me her brother once,” His voice grew quieter, carrying a thread of nostalgia. “I’d like to think I gave her something… something to hold onto when the world was a place she couldn’t belong. I taught her control. I taught her how to fight with honour. I think… you taught her how to love in a way I didn’t even realise she was capable of.”

Bucky felt a pang in his chest, understanding the weight Eric must have carried, watching over you, shaping you into someone who could live in a world that would never fully accept you. He felt the urge to comfort Eric, to tell him that his efforts paid off.

“Did she ever tell you about when I first met her?”  Bucky finally spoke, his voice a touch warmer.

Eric shook his head, looking up for the first time.

“She saved my life. She was working with Man-Thing—Ted—on some mission in the middle of nowhere when we crossed paths.” Bucky chuckled, “They were tracking a rogue werewolf. And Ted, well…” Bucky laughed softly, shaking his head. “Ted was dead on his feet from lack of sleep. He was useless that night.”

Eric raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “She was doing all the heavy lifting?”

Bucky nodded. “I was barely aware of what was happening before she’d taken down that werewolf. I didn’t even know what hit me—just this blur of speed. She shocked me that night.” He looked down, a faint smile touching his lips as he remembered. “And that was it. I knew I was done for.”

Finally, Eric sighed, the tension easing from his shoulders. “I think… I think she’s better for having you.” He looked away, almost reluctantly. “I didn’t think anyone else could understand what she means to me. But maybe in a different way— you do.”

They stood in silence for a little longer. Each held a different piece of your story, cherished you in their own way. They both knew you were in the best hands you could possibly be— even if you were fully capable of protecting yourself.

Before turning back to go upstairs, Bucky’s curiosity got the better of him.

“What’s waiting for us at Dead Club City?” he asked.

“Someone who will understand,” he replied, voice barely above a whisper.

Bucky took one last glance at him, nodding. 

Eric stayed, watching the soldier return to you with something that hadn’t been there before— a flicker of trust. 

Bucky slipped into bed beside you after taking a sip of water. You curled into him, still fast asleep. The tension in your brow had softened. Your face was peaceful, utterly serene. He could feel it, too— how you were resting easier now.

Watching you, Bucky couldn’t help but wonder if you could sense Eric’s newfound approval echoing through his mind— like a reassuring pulse through the bond.

-to be continued…

[ladamedemartel]

AURAUS

Send me a ship and I’ll tell you...

Who asks the other on dates: fr though, I think most times Klaus just takes her out with no warning or occasionally tells her in advance what time she needs to be ready and what to wear. Very occasionally Aurora gets put out by him just assuming that she has no plans which leads to her insisting that he should ask her on dates and he has to give her notice and blah blah which just leads to Klaus telling her to cancel her plans or he'll cancel them for her, or, if he's in a good mood, he just distracts her with sex and teases her about her so called other plans Who is the bigger cuddler: Aurora, but Klaus is so used to it, that when she's not cuddling, he gets annoyed Who initiates holding hands more often:

one of these days I'm going to pay someone or use AI to put Aurora's face on Anne's body Who remembers anniversaries: they don't actually have an anniversary and more importantly, Aurora believes that she should be celebrated and spoiled every day. Who is more possessive: K L A U S but Aurora gives him a run for his money Who gets more jealous: Aurora. And it's bad. Klaus' hybrids are worse than the Strix ever was. Who is more protective: There are few things that Aurora believes in and one of them is that nothing could actually hurt Klaus. I think Klaus understands that Aurora can mostly protect herself, but acknowledges that she's not as indestructible; however, it's a toss up as to whether her being hurt would upset him in and of itself or if he'd be more upset that someone dared to harm something that he considered his. Who is more likely to cheat: Klaus and Aurora's really insecure about it Who initiates sexy times the most: Klaus Who dislikes PDA the most: I think they're both particular about the type of PDA that they like Who kills the spider: Klaus is still trying to develop the ability to look at something and simply will it to die Who asks the the other to marry them: Klaus gives her a crown, not a ring Who buys the other flowers or gifts: Is it a gift or is it Klaus trying giving her things he wants her to wear instead of the velvet dress with the train? The world may never know Who would bring up possibly having kids: I think Aurora would, but as a dig, comparing his hybrid army to the children Rebekah so desperately wants Who is more nervous to meet the parents: MIKAEL LITERALLY HUNTED HER AND TRIED TO KILL HER meanwhile Klaus honestly seemed pretty chill with the Count Who sleeps on the couch when the other is angry: Aurora trying to kick Klaus out of bed just makes me think that Klaus would be like that tiktok audio "oh, you're angry with me? go to bed. we'll try again tomorrow" and then he'd just go on his side of the bed and lay there while Aurora decides whether she's going to sleep on the couch or if she's going to go to sleep Who tries to make up first after arguments: they make out not up Who tells the other they love them more often: Aurora, but that's mostly because saying 'I love you' is one of the few things Klaus isn't capable of doing.

[honestsycrets]

mío | baby-fever!miguel o'hara x wifey!reader

❛ pairing | miguel o'hara x wifey!reader, starved prequel

❛ type | oneshot, explicit

❛ summary | after watching mayday, miguel develops a bad case of baby fever, longing for a family of his own.

❛ tags | explicit, miguel has baby fever, babysitting, talk of family planning and contraception, f!reader, breeding, pregnancy kink, much fluff, some angst, starved!reader, miguel being frustrated and cute, clean that kitchen, one stereotype of latina women, Spanish is not translated, best friend!peter, self edited.

❛ request fulfilled | could you possibly write an imagine in which Miguel and his wife take care of mayday? + multiple requests for more starved reader/miguel.

❛ sy's notes | written to fulfill some requests. i do have another daddy miguel blurb to fulfill, but my future works should be nice and angsty.

Peter has it out for him.

It’s the only logical reason why he’d do this shit to him.

Miguel stood in his dark room in a pair of scratchy jeans, dragging a belt loop to loop when he heard the door to his room draw open. A resonant schwap, schwap, schwap.

“Mi reina?” Miguel cocked his eyebrow up, extending his claws.

“¿Sí?” you called back from the bathroom, the distant scent of his favorite perfume wafting into the air. Miguel threw a look to the bathroom, reaching for the bedroom door. It burst open before he could open it. 

“Hi, Miguel! Where’s your wife?”

Peter dragged his feet into the room, whirling around with a sloppily put-together backpack that leaked diapers onto the floor. An exasperated breath left his lips, dripping in the way he looked at Peter.

Unfortunately, his little wife liked Peter a bit too much for his taste.

“I should have known.” Miguel ran his hand through his hair, strands of mocha brown flyaways wisping along his tawny forehead. “Why are you here?”

His normally disheveled appearance was a little more disheveled. It wasn’t his appearance that bothered him but how it reached his eyes. Shocked, confused, tired. Peter pat his deltoid, awkward laughter choking in his throat. It bubbled on the edge of an overwhelmed sob.

“Well, you see, your wife said she’d watch Mayday because I have a date, and I haven’t had a date in a really, really long time. Like, a really long time—”

“Is Peter here?”

His head snapped to your bathroom where you came out, threading a golden hoop earring. You probably already knew the fight that was heading your way-- but for your part, you couldn’t be bothered to care any less.

“Got it, you need this date.” Miguel cut Peter off, standing behind you with his massive arms crossed. “¿Por qué no me dijiste?”

“¡Mi nena! Muévete Miguel,” you giggled, shoving your way past Miguel to Peter’s child carrier, sneaking your hands underneath her little armpits and whirling her around. She cackled, a glittering warmth to her mischievous eyes. You came to a stop, settling Mayday against your chest, nuzzling your foreheads together in some secret pact that the two of you shared.

Oh no, no, no, no. Not this. It hits him at once.

The sight of his wife— beautiful and cuddly with a very young baby in her arms. The only sight more beautiful was at the altar on his wedding day, your shy smile behind a sheer veil. It had been a long time, too long, since he had someone to call him father. He can still picture her glimmering eyes, the way she looked at him in nothing short of admiration, looking past the things that he’d done to see him and only him. Glimpsing at Mayday, remembering Gabriella’s soft, small face, it took him a moment to snap free. 

He's so fucked.

“You would have said no, amado mío.” 

You’re a natural at this, scooting by both men to set Mayday on the bed. Your tiny fingers spiraled out from her belly to change her diaper. Peter jittered uncomfortably, looking as though he wanted to jump in himself. You cleaned her, replacing the dirty diaper with a clean one. “We’re going to a market with Tío Miguel--” 

“Don’t bring me into this.”

“Are you sure it's okay? I’ll be back at five, it's just a few hours, really--” 

“¡Vete! A ratty house robe and a dirty spider suit aren’t sexy. Look at mi Miggy,” now you’re just buttering him up. He shifts his weight from one leg to the other, inspecting the ground. “Wear something nice.” 

They’re sexy to her, he might have murmured. Not on a date, you bopped him. Mayday’s bright eyes tracked the space between you and Peter before you broke away to wash your hands. Peter’s clammy hands cupped Mayday’s sweet face, littering at least a dozen sickly daddy kisses over her tiny face. But Miguel what if--

“Adiós, Peter!” You returned to force Peter out of your room. Miguel peered at Mayday whose head snapped to the side, cheek against her fiery hair as the door clicked shut. He braced himself for the shrill that would inevitably come with her realization that her daddy was gone. She whined, grabbing her toes and tipping nearly off the side of the bed. Miguel begrudgingly hovered at her feet, blocking her from rolling off the bed. He could do this, he told himself, he could resist those giant baby eyes staring up at him.

He didn't need a baby, he didn't.

He blames Peter for having such a good baby.

She doesn’t ask for much other than requiring chest-to-chest contact with Miguel. It’s not that he doesn’t want to hold her, he finds himself aggravated by how much he likes to be around her. In a market full of things to look at food trinkets such as necklaces, body scrubs, and empanadas, it’s all her. Miguel props her up with an arm just under her bum, her tiny finger peeking curiously into his fangs. He snapped his teeth playfully at her, a nip, nip, nip, missing playfully every time. It rips ping a toothy grin across her face. 

“No biting Miguelito,” you called out, sliding your fingers in a teasing ring around his muscled back to chest. You leaned up on your tippy toes, placing a small little kiss on his lips. You ran off to go get her a pineapple whip after her tiny fist yanked your hair over and over again. You relented, staring at what she was cooing at. Sweets-- obviously, sweets. All the little ones loved sweets. 

“She likes it.” 

“Ya sé,” you said, “But we don’t need anyone noticing you’ve grown fangs.” 

“Tch,” he clicks his teeth in protest. She does too, throwing you a mean look for interrupting her fun. You plucked up a bit of the whip on your spoon, cutting through her displeasure through the power of sugar. 

"There's a lot of people here, Miggy, let's go to the park." You point toward the park, pointing away from the mounds of fresh produce and locally sourced goods toward a healthy patch of green grass. Miguel is glad-- he’s sick of being stared at for his huge frame. Despite the ring on his finger, people still seem to try their luck. He couldn't be more disinterested.

You lay a picnic blanket as Miguel holds Mayday's treat. Mayday sprawls across his chest, trying to take just one more bite-- then another-- Miguel looks down, chin level, eyebrow raised. She offers a bit on her tiny index finger to Miguel. A peace offering. “She’s not going to wait.” 

“Give her to me.” You kicked off your sandals on the edge of the blanket, dropping your things on another corner. You pluck Mayday from Miguel’s arms and set her down on the blanket in a way that is too easy. As though you wouldn’t have much of a learning curve in becoming a mother. No, no— you never mentioned anything about kids. Did you even want kids? He couldn't bring his heart to ask, to hope again.

“I didn’t know you were so experienced with kids.” 

“Mami had six,” you noted, plopping down with the whip by Mayday’s side. She sat with a small slant, reaching out toward the sweet treat again with those chunky, adorable hands. You brought her into your lap, at last relenting. “When you’re the oldest, you have to learn a little something to help out. Can you imagine-- being pregnant six times? Ay no.”

“How many times do you want to be pregnant?” he blurts out. Usually timed and precise, the question causes him to pinch his brow as he sits beside you. “Si quieres,” 

Your other hand comes on top of his and shifts it away from his face. 

“As many as will make you happy.” 

Shock. He chews on that response, his eyes glued to Mayday lapping at the last spoon of sweets you are willing to give her. She falls into a fit of complaints, a conniving look at the sweets, just as you lift her onto your shoulder.

"I never thought about it."

"No more, your papa won't forgive me if I bring you home all sugared up," you tsked your tongue at her. You patted along her back in small, tight circles until her angry huffs faded away. He reaches for the baby bag, slipping free a soft yellow blanket with white spiders strewn across the front. Miguel slides the blanket on top of Mayday’s small body, her groggy eyes sliding closed.

The more he watches you with Mayday, holding her so close, swaying as you held her, the deeper this ache burrowed in his chest. You would look beautiful all swollen with his child. Never mind Mayday or Peter, he can nearly see it, feel it under his fingers, the feeling of your taut belly under his skin, or the kick of tiny feet against his palm.

“We’ll see, Miggy.” 

We’ll see-- the answer seems too noncommittal, too distant to be a satisfactory answer. With Mayday sound asleep, you settle her between your plush thighs. She expelled bursts of energy that milked her energy dry.

A little old woman passed by, her cane pierced soft grass as she moved closer with a bag of tomatoes and green beans. Her face, aged by time, pulls into a wide smile. He doesn't like her smile.

“You two are doing a great job. How old is she?” 

You blink, looking up into the woman’s cool blue eyes, her dark hair peppered with thick grey and white strands. You tuck Mayday in her soft blanket, sparing the woman a kind smile that Miguel doesn’t quite have the patience for. 

“Oh, oh. Thank you-- um, a couple of months,” you recount, perhaps thinking of Peter’s anxious pacing or his delighted shouts about becoming a father. 

“Adopting is a great option. Back in the day, my husband was a bodybuilder too. Had a low sperm count don’t you know. Steroids shrink things. Oh, but these days you can do all sorts of things like IV--”

A what-- Miguel’s eyes nearly popped out of his skull at the suggestion. Was this old bitch’s suggestion that he couldn’t do it-- couldn’t get you pregnant? He could easily do that. If he wanted you pregnant, you would be shocking pregnant. He’d be damned if some old woman put it in your mind that he couldn’t.

“We’re babysitting for a friend,” he blurts out. “I have--” had, “a daughter.” 

“Oh, do you? I’m sorry. I thought-- well, it doesn’t matter what I thought, have a good day."  

She’s saying that, but it comes out slanted. You don’t bother correcting Miguel, not on this. Rather, your hand inched toward his, picking up on the energy that was pluming from his body in waves. Irritation-- annoyance-- the little old lady hobbles off. You’re in your mind well enough to bid her goodbye. But you know better than to say anything more, slumping your cheek on Miguel’s firm chest. It makes the ache of Gabriella's memory a little more bearable. 

 Low sperm count his ass. 

It bothers him long after Mayday is gone. Peter, for his part, looks refreshed. He supposes that’s what happens with a full day of opportunity to empty your balls after weeks of no relief. It bothers him long after you come back from the kitchen, his favorite dark red slip plastered to your perfect body. It would look beautiful, full of his children— he just knows it. 

“I may have hijacked the kitchen a little bit,” you teased, the waft of warm chicken and brewed spices filled his nose. He had no appetite. “But I made you some pollo guisado.” 

“Hm,” he grunts into a pillow. “Later.”

Beside the bed, he has a bowl of brightly colored condoms. With your sensitivity to birth control, it is the best option available. It wasn’t, however, something he was ever happy about. He should be able to feel your body. Not once had he felt your body pure and unadulterated, warm and perfect for him. He was your husband. He wanted that moment— to fill you up just once, watch his cum dribble out of your cunt. It would be perfect. You set the food away, bowl and spoon clinking together.

“Miguel.” 

Forget your warm body. This room is too quiet. It is almost stifling in its silence. Mayday’s sweet huffs, the memory of Gabriella’s laughter. A proper home full of a child's giggles. He’s going crazy-- he has to be-- this isn’t normal. This isn’t Miguel. 

“Mi vida, don’t pout,” you reach out, rolling your fingers through his long brown hair. Your fingers tease along his scalp, turning around his ear. Your fingers tickle his lobe, your voice cemented in a concern that he wanted nothing more but to fix if it were anything other than this. “Miggy. Miggy, what is wrong? You look sad.”

“I’m not sad,” he says with a whine on his pillow. How silly he must look with his broad arms wound around the body pillow, squeezing its fluff for life. If he said the words well enough, you might believe them. 

“I know you are,” you nudge the pillow loose. He takes you instead, the air thickening with the closeness. You fed off the tension, sliding your leg over the sheet that covers his naked hip. “Tell me why.” 

He turns his hands over your thighs, traveling past your hips to ghost along your belly. 

“Sí, Miggy?” 

“I need…” he trailed off, finding the words nearly impossible to admit. They grow into a ball and cement in his throat, present but stubborn. Rather than break the words free, he swallows a bolus of desire and frustration. “It’s nothing. Let it go.”

The issue was— you loved him enough to let it do so. 

Miguel doesn’t want to press the issue. He knows you. All you want is Miguel’s happiness. Sometimes, he worries it is at the price of your own. The distance he places between you and him is intolerable. It bothers him every time he finds you babysitting Mayday.

Today, while Peter goes on a small date, you and Mayday make his favorite empanadas. She’s covered in a dusting of flour from head to toe. Peter would have fun with that. 

“Miggy you’re back?” you called as Mayday’s chubby hands shot out, nearly plopping off the counter if not for Miguel’s quick reflexes, setting her back in place. 

“Empanadas?” he settles the words in a small kiss to your lips. You glance at him over your shoulder. 

“It's... it's Gabi's birthday, isn't it?"

You’re too good for him. Despite the day coming and going, no one else notices his grief today. Not even Peter who came in alongside him, reading the room, and snatching up Mayday off the countertop. He’s babbling something, a thank you, see you later— you kiss Mayday with only the sweetness a mother could know.  

“Peter! Mayday made these for you,” you reach out to a box of uncooked empanadas. “Take them home!”

Her first empanadas— the delight is palpable. Peter may have snapped a photo, or ten, of his little flour girl on the way out, empanadas in hand. Then there’s silence. Miguel returns the nearly forgotten bundle of empanada dough and filling to the fridge in the space of unspoken tension. Miguel dips down to your neck, caramelized perfume warm on your neck. His lips trace the warm pulse of your neck. 

“Mami,” his voice mesmeric, warm like the filling you used to make him happy when no one else could. Your doting attention, even in the face of real issues like work and babies, was always on him.

"Sí, mi vida?"

His hands coast around your waist, using his strength to gently turn you around. It isn’t important right now. What is important is how he lifts you up onto the floury surface, purring his need into your slight ear. “I want a baby.”

“¿Qué?”

“Una niña,” Miguel leans his fingers along your collarbone. 

“Oh, Miggy.” You puff the words. They come out almost wounded. You know him so well, the vulnerability of the words causing him to look down. Your warm palms cradle his cheeks, forcing him to look into your eyes. “You miss being a father, don't you?”

You’re not stupid. Neither is he. He thought he could wait— watch Mayday grow up and not feel this sundering longing. As though he could stomach never feeling a child in his arms again. The ghosts of the past that came with Mayday’s longing haunt him day by day. 

You devour his insecurity, winding your legs around his waist and forcing him forward. He stumbles into your embrace, as though he were not a man who could decimate villains and spiders alike. When he was here, in your arms, he barely felt like the weapon of a man that he is. 

“Miguel. Speak to me.”

“You’re right,” he can’t lie— can’t hide the longing that comes with the thought of his own child on his chest. Not Mayday, no matter how many times she cuddled up to his chest. At the end of the day, she would never be his. You drew your lip into your mouth, nipping it fat and red, a bob in your head. His heart beats faster, strumming as though it would break free from his chest. Whatever it is you’re thinking he’s not sure. Only that it’s been so long.

“I just want to make you happy, will this make you happy?” you nearly whisper, knowing that there’s no one but him to hear the words. It’s what he wants for you, too. As he stands there, coursing his fingers along your thighs and hiking your dress up your hips, he can’t help but feel the foggy discomfort of forcing you into parenthood before you were ready. 

“It will.”

As well as it could. It would never erase Gabriella-- and, in the vulnerability of begging his wife for another child, came the guilt. Not only the guilt of failing to be a proper father or to protect her but moving on without her in his life to a beautiful family she would have loved. The feelings surge in his chest, a well of uncomfortable emotions in his eyes, threatening to fall. 

“Miguel,” you’re whispering, your fingers cutting across his sharp cheekbones. You cup his face, drawing your lips together in a commanding kiss. You never liked being ignored or forgotten. He’s not sure how he could now, with your tongue flicking between his lips, begging him to come back with a sugary sweet whine. “Stay with me, Miguel.” 

“I am,” he says, gripping either side of the counter by your hips. He feels your eyes on him, soft and careful, pressuring him to meet your gaze. He searches for an inkling of an answer in your gaze. "¿Qué piensas?"

“We can try,” you bite your lip, sliding it free between your teeth. “If you don’t have a low sperm count,” you tease. “Maybe it’ll take.” 

“¡Por dios!” He throws a curse to the side as if he believed in such a being, throwing a look back at you. “You don’t actually believe that vieja.” 

“Ay Miggy, of course not.” His lips work into a budding smile. You leaned up against his stubbly jaw, setting soft kisses there. Your lipstick stains his neck, dragging down to his prominent adam’s apple. He looks down at you with heady eyes, tracing the way you suckled a mark on his throat. He’d be lying if he said he didn’t like them a little more when others noticed them, little marks of possession. Miguel’s fingers come up to the straps of your dress, easing them over and down your slight shoulders. You pull back, words forming puff against his neck. 

“Not right here,” you inhale a soft breath. “Someone could come in.” 

Miguel eases his finger over the small bud of your breast, rolling his thumb along the silken skin, His hand comes up, encompassing your neck and shoving you back into the cabinets. It isn’t comfortable, not by far. He works the nub to its peak before turning his attention to the other. His mouth covers your breast, fangs grazing your nub as he suckled and tugged gently. Miggy, you pull him back up, stripped of your touch. Your hand slide across Miguel’s chest, tracing the taut muscles of his chest. 

“Who would come in?” 

“Peter,” you answer. 

It’s always Peter. He supposes that you wouldn’t want your friend to see you here, cunt stuffed with Miguel on the very same counter you earlier made him empanadas on. Miguel snatched the dress that fell along your hips laxly, utilizing it to yank you off the counter. You fell forward into Miguel, a heavy wall of muscle, your lips failing to form anything of use. You looked at him, cheeks flush and eyes doting, he’s the only one you see. 

“The balcony, then.” 

“Dianche, Miguel! Do you want all of Nueva York to see me?” 

“Maybe.” 

No, but see Miguel breeding you? Undoubtedly yes.

He couldn’t simply choose the bed, that would be too easy. Miguel set a kiss on your forehead, soft and scratchy with his stubble. You return it by dragging him down for another kiss, a wave of warmth coming over him as you force your hips back onto him, rolling your hips against his, teasing him. Miguel doesn’t appreciate the tease and gently pushes on your hips, motioning you to face the counter. 

“Bend over.” 

"Can't we go to my room?" you complain but comply all the same. Miguel’s palm ghosts your spine, dragging his fingers smoothly over the middle of your back and past the dress that gathered around your hips, He strips you of the little cover the dress gave, eager to have you bare and rid of the thin clothing that served as a veil from prying eyes. Miguel can cover you from the prying eyes of others if necessary. Not that he cared if others saw him fucking-- he’s all the more eager to have you all to himself, here and now. 

“No panties,” he notes, his warm hands on your inner thighs. “It’s almost like you knew.” 

“I might have,” you return, spreading your legs obediently for him. He palms your vulva, your hips shifting down over his hand. Sticky and wet, he wonders if his need to breed you has rubbed off on you too. His fingers shift, sliding over your soft hole. “Apúrate Miguel, you’re so slow.”  

“Can’t you be be good for once.”

You were always bossy. He likes it, most the time, being led around by what his pretty little wife wants. Today he wants to take his time, curving his broad fingers into your glistening cunt. Your wetness drips over his knuckles, fingers teasing the velvety soft walls he has never felt without a condom. A pleasured cry wracks in your chest, turning your head over your shoulder to watch Miguel’s fingers stretching you out. No matter how much your walls gave under his fingers, you would still ache when he penetrated you. It was the favourite part, the rich pull of his dick into your hole, bottoming out as best he could in your stomach. He soothes your complaints by grazing his other hand against your perky clitoral hood, finding the soft nub there for relief. You settle your arms on the floured surface.

“I never-- ah-- am,” you threw back.

Miguel slipped his fingers free, cupping your cunt with his palm for a teasing slap. You want to be good-- it’s just so hard, your cunt pulsing in the abswnce of his touch. He drags his sodden fingers to your lips, glazing them in taste of your lubricant. You suckle your tongue around his thick digits, savoring your own taste, his soft grunt of approval spurring you on. You feel like such a good girl with his fingers crooked in your mouth. 

“Are you ready?” Miguel stands fully upright, dragging your hips to his. He’s hard as the counter you were pathetically clinging onto. His hipbones ground into your plush ass, dick pulsing in his immediate ache to feel your cunt. He backs up, fiddling with something at the waist. You don’t need to ask to know that it was his big cock grinding between your cheeks, smearing fluid over your slit.

“No condom?” 

“No condom,” he affirms. You bow your head, nodding gently over the countertop. The head of his cock drove into your wetness, pushing past bundles of nerves. It’s impossibly different without the bag over his dick. It’s been so long. His world blinks out, savoring the feeling like he was an inexperienced teenager again. 

“Carajo, you’re so good,” he finds himself cursing, leaning over your back. 

“Now he says I’m good."

“Shh,” Miguel clips with a mean nip at your nape, lining it with soft kisses, encouraging you on to take him. Warm and wet, Miguel can only describe the slide into your cunt as untethered delight. Released from the bondage of his usual condom, he’s a mess against your soaked cunt, gripping you for a semblance of stability. 

I just want to make you happy. For all your needy complaints and little quips, he knows you do. Otherwise he wouldn’t be here, with your hands cupped on top of his, squeezing for more closeness. Miguel laces your fingers together in a needy weave, drawing back to stroke his cock right back into your wet body. You lead one of his hands between your legs, urging him on to stroke your clit. Your walls clamp down on him, teasing out bursts of pleasure with how deeply he was buried. Miguel’s lips part into a whine of his name, skin slapping against skin. He sets a kiss in the crook of your neck, breath nearly unbearable. 

“Mami,” he gasps, the word coming out between his unstable thrusts. Your eyes shut hard, sparks of pleasure winding and building in your core. “Give me a baby.”

“Sí papi,” you heave, “I”m trying to.”

Miguel knows what you like-- and you like him desperate. His voice so low and rich that you gush around his swollen length, falling apart below him. He catches your body from dropping in an instant, his thighs shaking as he works you through the fibers of gentle pleasure. Hot pressure builds low in his stomach. 

“Qué bella eres. I’m going to finish, fill you and knock you up,” he whispers, drawing himself free and admiring the hazy space of pleasure and reality. Miguel turns you back to face him. You think you may complain-- you didn’t cum, or something of the sort. He shifts you to sit on the counter, spreading your vulva for inspection. Miguel spat on your cunt, rolling his fingers over the swollen folds to spread you apart. He slipped into the space between your shaking legs. You felt him thrust into your body hard and sharp. Your hands reached out, dragging Miguel’s shoulders forward, clinging onto his body. 

It comes all at once, Miguel’s stuttering thrust forward, a deep groan filling the kitchen, his hand clasped onto your thigh so hard you know he’ll bruise it. You catch his moan in a kiss he doesn’t reciprocate, buried so deep in your body that all he can think to do is to force you to take all of it. He shakes himself free of the web of pleasure that he’s enveloped in, looking at you past the thin rivulets of sweat you wiped away with your loving thumbs. 

“I think there are better positions for baby making,” you lean in, kissing him gently. He returns the kiss this time, eyes light of the strain and stress of the last few days.  “Like… not this.” 

Miguel pulls back, his soft cock slipping free from your warm entrance. Miguel watches as his seed dribbles from your hole, grunting in acknowledgement. He swipes your mixed fluids and rolls it between his fingers. 

“I’m open to suggestions.” 

He loves his wife. More than anything. What he doesn’t love is how Peter seems to know that you’re trying for a baby.

The thing about having a woman from his same cultura was this: you loved to talk with your best friend. Who, just so happened to be Peter. He doesn’t even have to say anything, just staring at him with a quirk on his lip and a terrible glitter in his eye after he’s resolved another meeting.

“Hey, Miguel.” 

“Don’t start.” 

He’s crowded with work at his desk-- he has no time for Mayday’s curious little eyes to glitter at him, Peter to be doing that shit he did when he wanted to be helpful. He offered his hands up, shrugging. 

“I’m just saying! I’m a man, you’re a man,” he mumbles, inching a little closer and closer. “If you want a baby--” 

“Let me guess. She told you.” 

“Mayday could use a spider buddy,” he held Mayday up, out of her carrier. Miguel glanced down at her wild hair, exhaling air out of his nose with a little huff. “Sooner than later?” 

“I’ve done it before,” Miguel throws back. “I know how to knock up my own wife, Peter. I don’t need help.”  

Peter is offering help as if Miguel hadn’t tasted the changes in your body when he ate you out. Never mind that he saw you nauseated this morning, too sick to handle a call that Miguel promptly answered. He knew his seed had stuck-- you wouldn’t feel so miserable otherwise. It doesn’t matter, he’d answer them all if it meant another little one in his arms at the end of it all. Just so long as you and the baby were safe. 

“Are you sure? I know--” 

“I’m damn sure.” Miguel turned around, his head in his hand. “I’ve had enough of you. Why don’t you do something useful? Bring her something for her morning sickness.” 

“Oh,” realization fell over Peter like a hammer, looking down to Mayday who looked right back up to her father. For all that Peter knew about his love life, he was shocked that you hadn’t told him how awful the smell of breakfast meat made you feel. His hand fell away, a film of pride slipping from his practiced features when Peter spoke. “But... She’s already pregnant?” 

He leers. Peter scuttles away. 

Privacy is important to Miguel. You knew the damn rule. No telling Peter about the inner workings of your bedroom. For that, you were going to fucking get it. You likely knew you were going to get it-- even if you were likely already pregnant.

He can’t wait.

[loveisanimaginarydagger3000]

Please...

Wanda X Reader 18+

Summary- “Please,” she once again begs, “ I want you not him. Make me yours, please.” Wanda removes her head from your shoulder to look at your eyes with a new look of desire and lust. She somehow moves her lips closer to yours without them touching, knowing that if they touched, neither of you would be able to stop.

Warnings/Tags: Smut 18+ MDNI, Implied/reference cheating, Fluff and Smut, Strap ons, Rough sex, Dom/sub undertones, Multiple orgasms, Fingering

This is an old fic I found from my ao3 so the writing quality isn't that good, apologies but I don't have the time to improve it.

General Master List

W/c- 1.5k

“We need to stop,” Wanda quietly whispered as her lips ghosted yours. You currently had her pinned to the wall, a knee between her legs, yours mouths millimetres apart as you panted against each other. “Vision is going to propose to me,” she painfully said while closing her eyes to avoid the look on your face.

“That didn’t stop you from proposing that I fuck you last night,” you murmur at the shell of her ear, hearing her breath hitch at your words. “Especially in the bed you share with him. The father of your children, the man who doesn’t deserve, never deserved you.”

“Please…” she whimpers placing her head on your shoulder as she still remain trapped between you and the wall.

“Please what?” you softly say, “Leave? Tell me to go and I’ll go. You know I’d never hurt you.”

“Please,” she once again begs, “ I want you not him. Make me yours, please.” Wanda removes her head from your shoulder to look at your eyes with a new look of desire and lust. She somehow moves her lips closer to yours without them touching knowing that if they touched, neither of you would be able to stop.

“Are you sure?” you faintly say while staring into those green eyes you could get lost in. “There’s no going back,” you warn as there’s a lot she’s giving up or changing for you. She answers your question by crashing her lips to yours like she’s been starved of this intimacy for years. A low groan escapes your lips as her hands wrap around the back of your neck to keep you in place. Your hands find her hips and press her more into the wall making her moan. Suddenly you lift her up and hold her against the wall as her legs wrap around your waist, the friction against her clothed core making her break away from the kiss with a gasp. Threading her hands into your hair as you pepper kisses along her jaw and neck, you push off the wall with one hand and move around your apartment. You stumble through the living room while stubbing your toe making her chuckle against your skin and eventually make it towards your bedroom. Well your bedroom door.

“Fuck,” she gasps out as you push her against the door and practically rip her shirt off her body. Her hands fumble for the end of your shirt and eventually pulls it over your head. “Bedroom. Now,” she rasps out between heated kisses making you fumble with the door handle. Quickly, the door swings open making you almost fall into the room but you keep steady with the help of her magic. You move towards the bed and gently place her on there before swiftly climbing on top of her and crashing your lips to hers once again.

“Tell me what you want,” you mutter along the skin of her neck as you make your way down to her bra covered chest. You nip at the top of her breasts making her back arch giving you the perfect opportunity to unclasp her bra before throwing it somewhere in your room.

“Fuck me please,” she whimpers out while her nails scratch down your back making you groan around one of her nipples. You gaze upwards to see her eyes closed in pleasure as you continue to suck and lick at her sensitive flesh.

“You have to be more specific love,” you taunt out while letting go of a breast with a loud pop. A quiet whine leaves her lips at your words as you know she gets embarrassed asking you for things but you also know how wet it makes her. “Come on love, use your words.”

“Please fuck me with your fingers, mouth, cock! Just fuck me please!” She whimpers beneath you and you move back up her body to kiss her with this new sense of desire. You pull back slightly to pant against her lips while looking up to see her green eyes blown with lust and want causing a smirk to appear on your face.

“I’m going to ruin you for anyone else,” you purr out while moving back down her body, leaving marks now as you don’t care if Vision sees them. “No one will be able to fuck you as good as me,” you murmur at the waist band of her jeans. In one quick motion, you pull down her jeans and underwear in one go leaving her bare beneath you and to gasp as the cold air connecting with her exposed core.

“Holy shit,” Wanda moans out as the feeling of your hot breath causing a wave of arousal to wash over her. You don’t waste anytime teasing her as you both just want each other. You attach your lips to her clit making her moan loudly and run a finger up and down her folds, gathering her wetness. Before sliding your finger in you pull away from her soaking cunt and look at her directly in the eyes while sucking her juices off your finger, moaning at the taste of her.

“You taste delicious my love,” you mumble out before returning to her clit and sliding a finger into her dripping core. A low groan leaves her lips as you slowly thrust your finger in and out of her before adding another one. You can feel her walls slightly stretch around them and decide to add another one making her back arch once again. You pick up the pace of pumping your fingers in and out of her causing her to whimper at the feeling while also moaning into her, the vibrations sending a different pleasurable feeling through her.

“Please, I’m so close,” she begs, her accent thick and sultry. You smirk into her core before sucking and licking harder at her clit while curling your fingers at her g-spot making her instantly cry out. You feel her legs shaking besides your head before moving to wrap around your back and neck, holding you in place as she crashes head first into an orgasm. Her whole body tenses and she lets out a string of moan before going limp in your hold as she recovers from her first orgasm.

“Good girl,” you praise while gently pressing your lips to hers, a whine escaping her at the taste of herself. The kiss remains gentle until her hips start grinding up into yours making you groan at the contact. You pull away abruptly to strip yourself of your clothes and you quickly grab the strap on from your bedside table. “Do you still want this?” you mutter against her lips while bracing yourself on one arm above her.

“Yes, please just fuck me,” her tone desperate as you pull on the toy as quick as you can. Her nails return to you back leaving red marks as you slowly press the toy into her. As soon as she’s adjusted to the size, you start to thrust your hips into her and lean down to take a nipple back into your mouth. You switch breasts before pulling back to sit on your knees, moving her legs to go over your shoulders making her scream out in pleasure. “Fuck right there please!” she groans out as you snap your hips into her repeatedly, the force of your thrusts making the whole bed shake. With how brutal you are fucking her, it doesn’t take long for Wanda to once again come but this time you don’t let her ride out her high before pushing her over the edge once again.

“How pathetic must he be if a piece of plastic can please you better?” you tease out while slowing your thrusts down so she can catch her breath. “And I didn’t even need to touch your clit,” you mutter while kissing along her chest and moving upwards to meet her lips. “You did so well for me my love,” you whisper while kissing her forehead, still buried deep inside her. “Can you do one more?” You feel her nod against you but you remind her to use her words.

“Yes,” she breathlessly says and that’s all you need to flip the two of you over. A sinful moan leaves her lips as she straddles your waist, the toy never leaving her cunt as you switched positions. Slowly, you guide her hips on your lap as you move to sit up so you can kiss her once again.

“That’s it, that’s my good girl,” you praise her again and again as you notice how her face flushes even more at the praise. Gently, you move your hand to circle her sensitive clit and help her reach her final orgasm of the night. You muffle the moans that escape her before carefully rolling her onto her back and pulling out of her. Swiftly, you go to the bathroom to grab a wash cloth and help her with aftercare before joining her in the bed.

“I love you,” she sleepily murmurs while nuzzling her face in your neck, arms wrapped around your body, legs tangled under the sheets.

“I love you too,” you whisper back before drifting off to sleep, holding her as close as possible.

[florencemtrash]

The Shadowsinger & The Inkbird: Chapter Thirteen

Azriel x Day Court Librarian Reader

Summary: Y/n's clairvoyance is a gift from the Mother, but it feels more like a curse. With the power to gain knowledge through touch alone, Y/n holes herself up in The Alcove and hopes her powers and parentage will remain a secret. But things will change after the Summer Solstice ball and a chance encounter with a certain Shadowsinger.

Warnings: Canon typical violence. A walk through Velaris turns for the worse and the secrets of The Book are finally revealed...

The Shadowsinger & The Inkbird: Masterlist

Masterlist of Masterlists

It would seem I was wrong. It does not take much for Bethsevah Mordeigh to turn. 

I should be ashamed, but the more often Thanatos keeps coming back, the more I come to like him. Make no mistake, he’s as dangerous and volatile as a starving animal, but compared to his siblings he’s a saint. 

I saw him kill a male yesterday. One who stumbled upon our hidden ceremony and threatened to come back with Koschei’s army and crush us and the Mother beneath his boot. 

But with a snap of Thanatos’s fingers the nameless fae was gone. Gone in a gust of red wind that smelled and tasted like metal. And Thanatos looked stronger for it. His pale skin stopped being so translucent. His hair looked a touch darker, so dark it swallowed all light. A piece cut away from the fabric of the world. 

Death is his food. Him and his siblings feed on it and crave it like nothing else. 

Except for me. 

Thanatos says he craves me. And I think I believe him. I think I’m beginning to crave him too. 

Gwyn froze when the mountain’s door slid back. Azriel stood outside Cagniv Library with a bouquet of salt-white water lilies clutched in one hand and pale blue tulips in the other. 

“Azriel,” you smiled brightly, the last word you’d meant to speak to Gwyn dying on your lips. “What’re you doing here?”

The midday sun beat down on the face of the mountain, shortening the shadows around your feet. 

“I was coming from the House of Wind and was hoping you’d take a long walk home with me. These are for you.” He held out the tulips. “And for you.” He held out the lilies for Gwyn, which she accepted after a brief moment of hesitance. 

Azriel looked… lighter. His shadows were stronger than ever, clinging to his body like a second scent, but his eyes held a fondness and love for you that Gwyn had never seen before. Not when he was looking at Mor, not when he was looking at Elain… not when he was looking at her. It was so obvious to Gwyn’s eyes, she was amazed you hadn’t caught on yet. You just looked at the flowers with a touch of color flooding your cheeks. Bashful and uncertain of how to accept such a gift. 

“Thank you.” You touched the velvety petals between your fingers as though they might crumble if you weren’t gentle. 

“Yes. Thank you.” 

Azriel looked at Gwyn, that small smile of his faltering and then growing once more when Gwyn nodded her head. It was a silent acknowledgement. A quiet understanding that didn’t completely escape your notice. 

I’m not happy with you. Gwyn’s eyes spoke. But I understand. Her teal eyes flashed protectively. Don’t fuck this up.

“I assume I’ll be seeing you tomorrow?” Gwyn smirked at you and nudged her shoulder with your own, feeling the soft give of her skin and the strength in her arms. 

“Where else would I be?”

“At home. Sleeping.”

“Pffft. Sleep is for the weak.” 

“Careful. You’re starting to sound like Az. Now shoo.” Gwyn waved you off, watching as you took the arm that Azriel offered and made your way down the smooth steps of the mountain back to the city. 

You bowed your heads together, lips barely moving and cutting out two dark silhouettes in the air. Azriel must have said something funny because your gentle laugh carried itself on the wind, weaving into the air like silver thread. Gwyn couldn’t help but smile at you. 

If she knew what was about to happen, she would have never let you leave the library. 

“They’re in love.” 

Azriel looked sideways at you, catching the sweet scent of your hair as you leaned against him. The Palace of Hoof and Leaf buzzed with quiet energy, the air tinged with the scent of sugar from the confectionary booths. 

“Who?”

“Beth and Thanatos.” 

The book rocked against your hip, matching the beat of you and Azriel’s steps as you walked through the cobblestone marketplace. Lanterns hung unlit from the arches above, bobbing on wire like the bubbles that a pair of hawk-winged children were blowing from the steps of a peach-stone apartment. The girl, blue-eyed and red-haired, nudged the boy, pointing at the Shadowsinger with something like awe. Azriel offered them a faint smile and a few tendrils of his shadows licked at their feet as they scampered away with laughter. It was just a game to them after all. 

“I didn’t think he was capable of love,” Azriel noted. He thought back to the memories you’d unearthed with your powers and of the violent ways Thanatos had inched his way into Beth’s life. Wherever he lingered, death followed. But so far as you knew, he was also incredibly protective of Beth and the other priestesses. They’d benefited from his presence even if they were unnerved by it. He’d kept them hidden from Koschei.

“Beth didn’t think so either.” You flinched when one of the marketplace hawkers held his hand out to you. He didn’t shout like the others and seemed grieved when you stepped back into the folds of Azriel’s wings. He opened his sticky fist palm up to the sky revealing a handful of neat caramel candies wrapped in wax paper. 

“For the miss.” 

Y/n looked at Azriel, who only nodded with a smile.

“Thank you.” You gingerly took them from him, taking a moment to admire the light brown of the confectioner’s eyes, like burnt sugar, and the wisps of candy floss clinging to his shirt like loose threads. 

He didn’t resume his shouting until you were a good distance away, deep voice bellowing out over the square that his wares were made fresh that morning. You unwrapped one of the candies and stuck it in your mouth, sighing as it turned around on your tongue, slowly melting. Azriel took one of the candies you offered, but tucked it into his pocket when you turned your head to inspect the baskets of spices laid out on the sidewall.

“But he keeps staying with her. Keeps warning her of Koschei’s movements so she and her fellow priestesses can stay hidden. He… he cares for her. Or at least Beth seems to think so. The information — the story — is more pleasant than I could have hoped for, and I’m eternally grateful she doesn’t go in depth about their activities—” 

Azriel chuckled. “So it’s not like one of Nesta’s books.”

“Thank the Mother no. But it doesn’t get us any closer to finding out how to defeat Koschei. She doesn’t even talk about Koschei or the priestesses much. Only Thanatos. It’s just a love story.”

“Love stories are never just that though. They’re probably the most powerful things in the universe. Look at Rhysand and Feyre. Cassian and Nesta. I don’t think we’d be where we are now if not for their love for one another. The things they were willing to do to protect what they cared about.” 

“Do you ever wish you had that?” You dared to ask. “That kind of love? A mate?” Azriel turned to look at you, eyes filled with more cryptic meaning than you could ever imagine unraveling. There was hope, longing, grief, and a slew of other emotions. Their weight seemed to press in on you, but you didn’t feel overwhelmed. 

“All the time,” he whispered. Then he smiled, staring down at where your arm was linked to his. “Do you?” 

You turned away almost bitterly. “I don’t know what I’d do with that kind of love. If I’d be able to handle it. It might be too much for me.”

“I would disagree.” 

You couldn’t find the words to respond, so you settled on silence. Luckily for you, silence with Azriel never felt uncomfortable. 

“If your shadows keep taking them, I’m going to forget how many I’ve selected.”

“I see no problem with this,” Azriel shrugged and continued to follow you around the bookshop. It had stuck out to you immediately on your long walk back to the River House. A squat, two-story townhouse with charmingly chipped white paint laid over sturdy brick and sage green shutters. Candles winked in the afternoon light pressed up against window sills where two fat ginger cats lay purring in the sun. The dark, woodsy interior dripped with books, leather notebooks, and automatic writing pens that hovered over thick pages like butterflies. “We have space in the house.” 

“It’s less about space and more about how much I’ve spent.” Your fingers brushed the next book on the shelf and its deep purple binding. 

Oh that one’s interesting — a romance between a Spring Court nymph and a Dundarian knife maker filled with adventure, lust, longing, and found family. 

You’d no sooner plucked it from the shelf before shadows crowded your hands, whisking it off to whatever ether Azriel kept them hidden in. He wrote the name of the book on a sheaf of paper, his handwriting neat and simple. 

You turned on him, arms folded over your chest. “You can’t keep doing that.” 

“You are not to spend a copper of your own money here. Rhysand and Feyre’s orders. Just put it on the House’s credit. Rhysand’s already added you.” 

“They put me on their credit?” You balked even thinking about the money you’d been given access to.

Azriel nodded. “Consider it repayment.”

“Repayment for what? I haven’t done anything.”

Azriel looked at you quietly, as if the answer were obvious. “You’re the reason I still have a sister-in-law and a niece. You’re the reason we now have a name to investigate and are one step closer to defeating Koschei. You’re the reason the Godswoods and the Gallows haven’t been stolen from yet and a number of Librarians still have their lives. Do I need to continue?”

You thought through what he said. It was true that Helion’s intervention in the Godswoods and the Gallows had been effective. No deaths had been reported since then, but it didn’t make you feel any safer. A snake was still a snake, even when camouflaged.

“Only two of those things matter to the Night Court. Helion owes me for the latter.” 

“Then you can have him contact the banks and transfer the sums.” Azriel’s eyes twinkled with mischie. You went to snatch the paper out of his hands, but all he had to do was raise his arm to the ceiling, a smile tugging at his lips. You jumped up, one hand firm on his shoulder for leverage, but it was no use. He was too damned tall. 

You stood on the tips of your toes to get closer to eye level with Azriel. His eyes flickered down to your lips, the shapes they made as you quietly said, “Thank you.” 

You lingered in the stacks for a few moments longer, nervously asked the shop owner to put the list of books on the High Lord and High Lady’s tab — which she did with a warm smile — and then made your way back outside. The bell hanging above the doorway jingled happily, the wood burned sign saying Come back soon! Love, Jessebell. 

You trailed ahead of him down the street. Every sign, every shop window display, every street sign — you drank them in like you were ravenous. 

Azriel felt Rhys’s presence drift in the outskirts of his mind, and without hesitation, he let him in. 

Where are you? What’s taking so long?

Nearly to the Sidra. I brought her to Jessebell’s. 

That explains your lateness. Rhys paused. She must have loved that. 

Azriel smiled inwardly. She did. She really did.  

A female with weathered, dark skin and flowers sprouting from her ears stopped you on the street and although your first instinct was to recoil, you relaxed when she only lifted up a deep black tulip in her textured hands. The wilting flower straightened up when you kissed one of the petals as instructed and the gentle laugh that followed had Azriel’s heart soaring. 

Well make sure you get here in time for dinner. I want as many of our family members under my roof as possible.

Is this an ask, or a command?

Don’t make me use my High Lord voice on you.

Azriel rolled his eyes with a smile. I am absolutely trembling. Do you use that tone of voice on Nyx? 

He felt as much as heard Rhys’s laughter. Enjoy your time with Y/n, but come back soon. Mor is looking to get her hands on your mate. Mother help us all.

Rhys cut the connection and Azriel was free to admire you once more. 

You cradled the bouquet he’d given you in your arms, light reflecting off the petals and casting a faint blue glow on your face as you chatted with the florist. Your smile, which had started out forced and nervous, was slipping into something more relaxed. When the female laughed merrily and touched your wrist, you didn’t flinch. 

Dark tendrils of night curled around his ears and Azriel felt a shiver trail down his spine. 

Behind you. His shadows whispered. The boy needs help. There’s something wrong with him.

The boy startled back when Azriel turned towards him, tripping over a nick in the cobblestones and landing with a wince on his palms. Glassy pale eyes stared up, wide and terrified. His clothes were rumpled and unkempt and his white-blond hair was a mess of curls flecked with grey, like he’d been rolling around in dust. Pale pink and blue veins rose to the surface of his green-tinged skin, sickly and unnerving. He looked like a corpse on puppet strings.

Azriel looked around, but no one was searching for the little boy. No yelps belonging to scared parents. No calls from a sibling. 

“Shadowsinger, sir?” Even his voice sounded sickly, like his vocal chords were disintegrating in his throat. 

Azriel immediately dropped to his knees and slid his hands behind his back. “What’s happened, little one? What’s wrong?” His voice was smooth and gentle. 

He was too busy thinking that his boy was younger than Nyx, too busy ordering his shadows out to search for the boy’s parents that he didn’t think twice about the lingering stench of blood clinging to the boy’s shoes or the faint pain beginning to grow behind his hazel eyes. 

The boy looked around furtively while wringing his grubby hands, and then leaned close to whisper in Azriel’s ear. His pale eyes narrowed in concentration.

“It’s beautiful. I’ve never seen a black tulip before.” 

“It’s a little secret of mine. You need to get the seed and soil just right.” The female brushed her waist length hair over her shoulder. The knotted strands had the thick, coarse texture of seafarer’s rope, as aged and wise as the rest of her. When you held the flower back out for her to take she shook her head. 

“For you, my dear. I have dozens more and I think it would attract more business if you wore it around today. A beautiful creature like you must get lots of attention.” 

You knew she was probably just saying these things to get your business, but you couldn’t help the spark of joy the compliments gave you. She helped tuck the flower into the braids of your hair and you felt the petals kiss the tips of your left ear. 

“Say.” The female leaned in like she was about to share a secret. “If you aren’t already taken, I have a niece who’d love to have a pretty girl like you on her arm.” 

Your blush deepened and you found yourself stammering, “That’s very kind, but I don't-I don’t-'' You glanced up the street. Azriel was kneeling on the ground, head bent down to a small child. You only caught the wisps of white, candy floss hair over Azriel’s broad shoulders. 

The female traced the path of your gaze and sighed. “Ahhhhh. I see.” There was a triumphant look in her eyes, even as she said, “Shame. But I’ll still give you my niece’s name if you don’t mind.” 

Your eyes snapped away from Azriel’s and you smiled in embarrassment. “Oh, we’re not—”

“Henna.” 

You stepped back. Panic froze the blood in your veins and you felt pinpricks traveling up your body, stabbing your heart and your mind. You could see her now. Her silver hair fanned out around her. Her broken body. Her bloodied eye socket, dark and empty. 

“I’m sorry. What did you say?” You had to have heard her incorrectly. Your head was pounding but you pushed back on your mental wards, shoring up your defenses until the feeling passed.

The female tilted her head to the side. Her eyes were as milky and glassy as pearls. “Does the name mean anything to you, dear?” 

You took another step back and the female stepped forward. Her eyes seemed to clear then and her brows furrowed in concentration and pain. She lunged forward, tearing away at your clothes and knocking the flowers of your hands as she begged. “Help me. The boy. He’s inside—HELP ME!” 

You surged back, crumpling to the ground under her heavy weight as she continued to pull and claw. 

She’d been restocking the back room when the dirty little boy and the tailor showed up in the alleyway. He still carried that bolt of fabric under the crook of his arm. He took out a knife, orange eyes flashing and slit his throat from ear to ear while the little boy watched. Smiling.

“LET GO!” You kicked out, ramming your knee up and into the soft flesh of her stomach like you’d seen Emerie do to Cassian, but you lacked her strength and technique. The female wheezed but didn’t let go, even as others came to try and pry her off of you. Their voices were frantic, trying to calm you down, but they were the voices and hands of strangers. 

“AZ!” You screamed, feeling the female sink her nails into your arm.

There was an ugly tearing sound and the cool touch of wind at your chest. Your robes were ripped apart under her rough hands and her eyes narrowed in on your belt and the chain that connected to the book. She bucked off a cherub-faced female with a blow to her nose and blood splashed over your cheek. 

“Help me. Please. Oh… oh gods.” She grabbed at the book, but the chain glowed iron hot in her hands. The smell of burning scorched your nose as the magic did what it was meant to do. Nothing could break that chain. Not unless you willed it. Not while you were still alive. 

“Oh gods. Oh gods help me. I’m so sorry.” There were tears streaming down her face, tracing the canyons and valleys of her skin. She threw off the fae clamoring around you both and ran with jerky, uncoordinated leaps back into her flower shop. She snatched the gardening shears off the windowsill where she’d been trimming her hydrangea bushes. She wept and shook her head, mouth struggling to open and scream as she held the shears up high and then drove them into her neck.

The scene took a long time to filter through the haze of panic and disbelief. 

“Az… Az… Az—AZRIEL!” Your shrill scream pierced through the air. You scrambled away from everyone. Stones shaved away the skin of your knees, your palms. The tattered silk of your robes trailed behind you. “Don’t touch me!” You shrieked at the male who tried grabbing your arm, soft voice whispering. 

He wasn’t the one you wanted. 

“AZRIEL!” 

The female dropped to her knees, hands clutching her throat as blood poured out in bubbly, gurgling spurts. The candy pink strips of her apron turned a wet, sticky black as she crawled back towards the door.

“Oh gods… Please,” she wheezed, wet and agonized, before collapsing face down on the floor. Motionless. 

You staggered to your feet twisting away from everyone crowding around you. 

“Don’t touch me. Don’t!” 

“Miss you must sit. Please—”

“Let me help—” 

“Are you hurt? What’s—” 

“Don’t touch me. Please don’t touch me. Don’t touch me!” 

Screams. The sound of doors slamming shut. Locks turning. Commanding barks calling for a healer. Calling for the High Lord and the High Lady. Calling for the Shadowsinger to help.

Azriel was still kneeling in front of that boy and no matter how many times you called his name and pushed through the crowd of people now rushing up and down the streets in a frenzy, he didn’t get up. He didn’t look at you. You may as well have not existed. 

You finally reached him, narrowly missing being run over by a satyr who seemed to have gotten the wrong impression about which direction to sprint in. Every clip clop of his hooves shot through you. 

“Az.” 

Why hadn’t… Why hadn’t he helped you? 

“Az.”

Why hadn’t he come when you called?

The Shadowsinger rose. One hand grabbed the hilt of Truth Teller and the malicious blade sang as it was unleashed. The shadows that normally hovered about him like mist were gone. They were all around you now, tugging you in the opposite direction towards the Sidra. They pleaded for you to run, but you couldn’t understand them.

Something was deeply, deeply wrong.

“Az.” You begged and grabbed hold of his hand. “Please. You’re scaring me.”

Truth Teller shot out and pain radiated up your arm as the blade cut neatly through your clothes and sliced open your skin. You tripped backward, landing with a thud on the street that rattled your bones. Your sleeve turned dark with blood. 

You whimpered, holding your ruined arm up to your chest. There was no feeling in Azriel’s eyes. No flicker of recognition. None of that warmth and kindness you were so accustomed to. Just a menacing, silent form towering over you and blocking out the sun. 

A pale boy stood by Azriel’s side with ice chip eyes and rectangular pupils. He grinned brightly and the stretch of his waxy cheeks was too tight. Too forced. He shouldn’t have been alive. He-he—

Andrian. 

You’d seen him in Henna’s memory. You’d heard the snap of his neck beneath Koschei’s hands. Even now the boy was bent awkwardly, his head left in a perpetual tilt that should have looked charming and inquisitive but instead made you want to retch.

Andrian smiled at you then plastered a practiced look of horror on his face before running away with tears streaming down his cheeks, shouting for his mother. A burly male grabbed his shoulders, alarm on his face as he hoisted Andrian into his arms and disappeared into the crowd. Because who wouldn’t stoop down to help a fragile little boy? Who would dare suspect that the daemati that had roamed the Day Court’s halls and slithered his way into Velaris was a child?

Azriel gripped you by the front of your ruined clothes, hosting you up in the air. Your feet kicked uselessly and grabbed onto Azriel’s arm, trying to alleviate the choking pressure of his hand so close to your neck. 

“No. Azriel please. It’s me,” you whimpered. “It’s me.”

There was a flicker of recognition in his eyes. There and gone. So brief you wondered if you’d imagined it.

His left hand parted the tatters of your robes, and you flinched when his fingers brushed against your hip before settling on the chain that kept the book tied to you. 

Panic seized your soul. 

You’d been chipping away at the book’s secrets for months and you couldn’t let Azriel — couldn’t let Koschei — get his hands on it. Not without you knowing what it was that made Beth’s story so special.

You flung a hand out, feeling the leather of the book beneath your fingertips like it was your own skin. Your magic called out to the book, desperate and powerful and familiar, and the barriers it possessed to hide its secrets melted away at your beckoning. You poured every inch of your power into it even as Azriel’s lips turned down in an ugly frown that didn’t belong on his face. 

Your eyes turned to gold, bright as the sun as you basked in the knowledge flooding your mind with the force of a tsunami. You didn’t hold anything back. Not this time.

You were so lost in the book — in the emotions and memories wrapping around your mind, sharp and brighter than the light of a thousand suns — that you didn’t feel it when Azriel gripped that golden chain. The metal flared, a high-pitched ring piercing the air as it snapped in two, giving way to Azriel’s power. Nothing should have broken it. And yet there it was dangling from your waist.  

You did feel it when he broke your wrist. 

When he forced the book from your grasp. 

And then stabbed you in the stomach. 

Cassian and Nesta winnowed to the street and watched in horror as your body was dropped to the ground. Your head cracked the pavement, hands twitching palms up at your sides. 

Nesta shrieked. The sound was harrowing. The mourning, dying screams of an animal.  

She charged forward, twin blades flashing in her hands, and silver light shot out of her chest, crashing into Azriel’s shields and forcing him back twenty feet. He gritted his teeth. The rubber soles of his shoes skidded and burned. 

Cassian collapsed on his knees beside you, peeling off his leather jacket and wrapping it around your head and neck to keep it in place. 

“Shit.” His hands came away bloody. RHYS! FEYRE! He screamed into the corners of his mind, hoping they’d hear. GET HERE NOW! 

“Thanatos.” Your voice was weak.

“It’s Cass. Hey, keep your eyes on me ok.” He pressed his hands against your stomach, wings flared out to protect you from the cold burn of Nesta’s power as she went toe to toe with The Shadowsinger. Magic sizzled in the air, raising the hair on the back of Cassian’s neck like a lightning strike waiting to happen. Blood pooled over his hands, thick and dark. “Eyes open,” he commanded, “On me.”  

Your eyes were open, and glowing strangely, but you weren’t staring at Cassian. No. You were miles outside of your body. 

“The Bone Carver. That’s it.” 

“Eyes on me, Y/n. Eyes on me.” 

“Thanatos,” your hand twitched, “The Bone Carver. That’s how she did it.”

Nesta screamed, flying overhead in a burst of blue light that had her back slamming into one of the marketplace towers. The white marble cracked viciously and Nesta dropped to the ground, dazed and distracted as blood dripped out from her nose. 

“NESTA!” Cassian roared, eyes narrowing into dangerous slits as Azriel waited at the bottom of the street. 

The Shadowsinger muttered something dark and revolting beneath his breath. Ancient, powerful words that were whispered in his mind. He held onto the book in his hands as it lit up in flames and then blew the ashes into the wind that would carry them all the way to Andrian’s master. 

Koschei.

The call of her mate sharpened her senses and Nesta rolled onto her feet, calling her weapons back into her hands and leveling a glare at Azriel that would have killed a lesser male on the spot. 

She was Nesta fucking Archeron. 

Lady Death. 

Queen of Queens. 

And she would be damned if she let Azriel hurt her or anyone else.

“I’m sorry for what I’m about to do, Az,” she growled. 

She’d been holding back before. She’d been holding back a long while. But no more of that. The power she let out burst through Velaris with light brighter than a dying star, crackling with an energy that knocked Azriel off his feet and sent him crashing into the river wall with a sickening crack that shattered the bones in his arm, his leg, and his wings. 

Rhys appeared at his side, violet eyes wide open in shock. He could feel the magic suffocating his brother’s consciousness, burying him so deep there was almost nothing left but anger behind his whiskey-brown eyes. 

Rhysand grabbed the sides of his head, shoving his way into Azriel’s mind even while he fought back. Rhys flinched when one of Azriel’s knives nicked his temple, drawing blood that dripped down onto his velvet dinner jacket and floated on the dense material like dew drops. 

“Stop. This isn’t you, Az.” 

Azriel seethed, teeth bared and bloody. He spit in Rhysand’s face and he winced. Rhysand would never be able to forgive himself for what he did next. But someone had burrowed themselves into Azriel’s mind so thoroughly, so viciously, that in that moment, it was the only thing Rhys could think to do. 

Rhysand’s talons dragged down on Azriel’s mental walls so viciously he screamed as they were torn to pieces. He dug in with brutal efficiency. Reaching, tearing, clawing to catch the curl of power that had infected Azriel’s mind before it could do any more damage. He latched onto its slithery, silver body and wrenched it out of Azriel’s consciousness. 

When I find you. You’re as good as dead. Rhysand promised. 

The daemati slunk away with a giddiness that sent a shiver through The High Lord’s bones. 

Azriel slumped, weak and boneless, against his brother’s shoulder. Sweat beaded his brow and he shook, blinking the saltiness out of his eyes. He felt like he’d been beaten within an inch of his life. His bones were broken. His wings twisted. There was a raging headache that a hundred shots of vodka paled in comparison to. 

But it was his hands that horrified him most. Red and slippery. 

His breath shook.

He couldn’t… he couldn’t remember… what…. 

His eyes shot to Rhys, then up the street where he could make out Feyre, Cass, and Nesta huddled over your still body. The bond sat deep within him pulsing with terror and pain. 

“Rhys.” His voice broke. Rhysand angled his body to hide you from view, but it was too late. Azriel was panicking now, body trembling uncontrollably. “What happened?”

Rhysand said nothing. His eyes shined with horror. 

“What did I do? Rhys, what did I do?!” 

“Cass. Cassian, I’ve got her.” 

His hands were shaking. There was so much blood. The smell burned his nose and made him want to throw up his lunch. Feyre covered his hands with her own, peeling them away sticky and red from Y/n’s stomach. 

Light flooded out from Feyre’s palms, warm and lovely and Cassian and Nesta breathed a sigh of relief as the flow of red slowed and then stopped, flesh knitting itself back together. 

“It’s ok. You’ll be ok.” Nesta’s words were commanding as she held your neck and head still.

Your eyes searched the empty sky, seeing and unseeing. Then your hands shot up, grasping Feyre’s shoulders and digging in deep enough to leave bruises. Your eyes were wide, staring at her with an intensity that spoke of a thousand years. An unfathomable wealth of knowledge that should have crushed you beneath its weight. 

“Y/n it’s ok,” she murmured gently, pushing more power into your body, willing you to heal faster.

“Look. Feyre you need to look,” your voice was thick. Wet. Blood coated the inside of your mouth bitter and metallic. 

“I’m looking. Y/n, you hit your head. It’s going to be ok. You hear me? It’s going to be ok.” 

“You need to look,” you said once more.

You trailed a bloody, weak hand down Feyre’s arm and pulled her fingers up to your temple, tapping once. Twice. 

Without any more direction, she slipped into your mind and gasped.

Feyre stood in a pool of mist, white fingers reaching up her legs and splintering outwards before they changed direction and started to climb up into the darkness like trees. Or rather… like bookshelves. The mist formed stacks that disappeared into the distance, endless hallways and shelves that wound around each other. Chaotic and orderly at the same time. 

She could feel your presence beside her. Or rather she was you. In that moment she felt the raging winds of your power, hot and ravenous. It wrapped around you, tugging you to and fro like that uncontrollable lurch when you stand too close to the cliff’s edge. The call of the void.

She needed to answer that call the same way you did whenever you used your powers, because somewhere in the halls of your mind stood the knowledge you’d worked so hard to obtain. The truth of how it was Bethsevah Mordeigh was able to trap Koschei, and how to end it once and for all. 

Feyre let your magic pull her in the right direction. In the mist she stumbled upon the final memories you’d absorbed from the book before it had blown away in the wind.

Bethsevah wept, “No. No. No. I won’t,” shoving away the reed thin body that held her so close. Thanatos grasped her face in his pale hands, begging her to listen to him even as she shook her head frantically. “I won’t do it.” 

“You must. Bethsevah, you must.” His pitch black eyes winked with starlight… or maybe it was his tears. 

This world and its people had changed him. He could feel it in his bones. Something very deep and cruel within him had been twisted into something sacred. Something that toed the line of kindness. 

Koschei thought it was this element that made fae and humans beneath the three of them. They were supposed to be pure. Powerful. Handing out life and taking it away like the gods they were. But now Thanatos knew better. Now he knew exactly what it was that made Koschei and Stryga worse than even him — they would never be able to care for anyone. Not the way he cared for Bethsevah. Not the way he cared for the world she loved. 

“I won’t do it,” she growled.

“Then they’ll die,” he said, with a tone of finality that could only belong to a death god. “Everyone. Everyone you love. Everyone you care about. I know my brother. Koschei craves attention and devotion above all else. He won’t let you worship your Mother. He won��t stop until you all kneel or until you’re ashes in the wind. Beth—” He wrenched her hands back from where she covered her eyes, refusing to even look at him. 

He tucked his crooked finger beneath her chin, coaxing her gaze up. Together they were storm clouds blanketing an eternal night. A lightning strike — brief and chaotic and electrifying. 

“You don’t know what you’re asking of me,” she whispered, steel laced in her soft voice, “You don’t know what you’re offering.” 

He smiled, sad and simple. “I know exactly what I’m offering up.”

“Once I lock you in The Prison, I won’t be able to let you out. No one will. You’ll be trapped there for eternity.” She shivered, closing her eyes. She wouldn’t wish that fate upon her worst enemy, but her mate? She shook her head. 

“I know.” 

“No, you—”

“I have seen the first fall of snow on a new world. I have seen entire cities leveled to dust with no survivors. I’ve lived thousands of years. I understand.”

“We’ll find a way. Kosch—” 

“Remember what I told you,” he whispered, “Back at the cabin? You were made to ruin me, Beth. And I will let you do it a million times over. Without hesitation.” 

You and Feyre felt Beth’s pain as acutely as if you shared the same heart.

“I wish she hadn’t done it,” Beth whispered, “I wish the Mother had never created me to be your mate.” 

“I don’t.” Thanatos leaned his forehead against Beth’s and got lost in her. “There is no other way, Bethsevah.” He kept saying her name, like just speaking the word and feeling the shapes it took in his mouth would prolong the time they had together. Would tie them together more surely than the bond that burned in their chests.

She felt the battleground slip beneath her feet and no amount of power, no amount of willpower, could change it. 

He brushed back her hair and trailed one of his slender fingers down the curve of her cheek ending one teardrop’s race to her chin. “Mating bonds are powerful things, Beth. Your magic — your blood — and yours alone will be able to cut through my defenses and sever me from my power. I want you to take it and lock me away. Once my magic is yours, Stryga won’t be able to see you coming and you’ll be able to take her power as well. So long as you leave Koschei for last it may just be enough power to rid him from this earth once and for all.” 

“You’d have me do this. Destroy you and your family. This is what you want?”

Thanatos hesitated. “I am not a good male. But this… this will have to be enough. This is what I want, Bethsevah. For you and your family to live. To be happy and safe.”

“I won’t be happy, “ she said, eyes now flat and dull as the silver coins they placed over the dead, “I won’t take anyone else.”

“I want you to,” he begged, “I want you to marry and to have children. I want you to grow your family so that one day, if I ever do make it out of that Prison, I’ll still see pieces and memories of you roaming this earth. That’s all I want, Bethsevah, and it’s already more than I deserve.” 

“I’ll find a way,” Beth promised. “I’ll find a way to get you out. I swear it.” 

“Don’t make any bargains with me.” He smiled sadly, thumb wiping away at her cheeks, “That’s what got us into this mess.”

Finally she laughed, just a little. “I don’t regret it.” 

“Neither do I.”

The memory froze. A moment in time trapped like a beetle in amber.

A hand grabbed Feyre by her shoulders and swung her around. You stood there cloaked in pale, golden light, your eyes shining like copper coins. When you opened your mouth, you spoke in Beth’s voice.

Thanatos told me that magic runs in blood — familiar, same. But mates are different. Powerful. Their magic can protect one another. Identify one another across space and across time. But they can also turn on each other viciously. A lock and a key. Madness and salvation.

What I could destroy in Thanatos, I stood a chance at destroying in his siblings.

Your face fell, hauntingly beautiful in the glow of your powers. 

But I couldn’t do it. Not in the way he asked. I took his power. I locked him in that Prison. I bound Stryga to her cabin in the woods. But I didn’t kill Koschei when I should have. When the power of three gods was coursing through my veins and stripping me down to my bones, when I had enough light within me to see the birth and death of stars and the face of the Mother, I couldn’t do it. 

I thought I would be capable of destroying Koschei and freeing Thanatos, but I couldn’t do either. I had only enough sanity left to take that power and bury it somewhere Koschei couldn’t touch. To trap him on the lake where he can live in madness knowing his magic is so close by and yet locked away. Unreachable. 

I’ve done my part. I’ve had my children. I’ve left my mark on the world, great and terrible as it is. If you’re reading this, my daughters, do what I could not. Take the power in the lake and destroy him. It will open for you, and only you. My power. My blood. 

And if you have any love for me at all, find a way to release Thanatos. That is what I ask of you.

Bethsevah’s calls had never been answered, at least not by her children. You knew this much in your heart. Thanatos — The Bone Carver — had freed himself thousands of years later only to die beneath the Cauldron’s power. 

You whispered a silent prayer to the Mother. You hoped the Bone Carver was at peace now. Now that he must be with his Beth. 

Azriel was screaming your name, broken cries cutting through the quiet of the marketplace. You’d never thought him capable of such a wretched noise. 

The High Lady sat shock still above you with tears streaming down her face. Grey eyes glistening.

<- Previous Chapter Next Chapter ->

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Author's Note:

I apologize if you thought I'd forgotten about the plot with Koschei and was just writing cute, fluffy scenes between our favorite Librarian and our favorite Batboy. But you also should've remembered that I burned this girl's house down and had her kill a another character in self defense so... this was coming... sorry...

This is by far the chapter I've been most nervous about posting because it's where I start to tie together all the weird loose threads that have been accumulating throughout this story so I am very much open to feedback on how I can do things better and on how I can make things clearer moving forward. Or! If you thought I did a good job and are intrigued, I'd appreciate it if you let me know that too!

But anyway thanks for reading 😅.

[shadamyheadcanons]

For me, Shadow and Amy's dynamic is basically two different types of touch starved in a person

((If any of the gifs on this post aren’t loading for you on mobile--like they aren’t for me--you can download them or check the sources listed. As for desktop, they play just fine, but they won’t line up next to each other like they do on mobile. Tumblr is a comedy of errors.))

Yes! Absolutely. I’ve seen tons of fans say Shadow is prickly and would respond badly to hugs, but canon says otherwise. This is a bad reaction:

[Sonic 06]

Whenever I feel like being sad, I wonder if Bad-Future-06 Silver has ever been hugged.

This is a bad reaction:

[Sonic Unleashed, gif source.]

And I shouldn’t have to say this, but...yeah. These are very bad reactions:

[Sonic X]

[Sonic Generations]

Yikes. I feel bad for both of them.

But this?

[Sonic Adventure 2, gif source.]

This is Shadow’s only canonical hug in the games, and aside from jumping slightly from being snuck up on, he seems to like it just fine.

Just look at that smile! He’s happy. He finds it endearing.

It was a hug from a complete stranger meant for someone else, but he still drank it in--and, given that he’d effectively just lost Maria, he really did need it. It’s the combination of Amy’s gentleness AND her speech that changed his mind. After all, if someone as sweet as her sees something in the humans, maybe they’re not so bad.

My buddy who runs @shadowxamyweek recently reblogged a post about this hug, and their tags sum it up perfectly:

[ID: A screenshot of tags on a post. The tags read:

#official art #4kids #shadow the hedgehog #amy rose #YEAH 😭 #listen I read nothing that has happened with them in SA2 as shippy - and i ship them #THIS HUG? THR SPEECH ON THE ARK? #those are two lonely kids #those are two left behind kids #those are two kids so desperate for affection #for two vastly different reasons #Amy loves with her whole chest and will never stop doing so- no matter what happens #and Shadow does too- that is key to remember- Shadow loves... so fucking much... that it hurts #you are RIGHT op when you say this is probably the first time someone has been gentle with him in a long long time #he doesn't even run away #in the game- when Amy flees- he takes a step after her- a moment's hesitation- a 'wait' #this kid NEEDED a hug #and i firmly believe part of the reason Shadow listens to Amy in the end is BECAUSE she is the only person who showed him gentleness #softness and kindness and affection #if only for a moment #fjdodhdofjgor THIS is what i mean when i say 'be gentle- be kind' #it MATTERS #it FUCKING MATTERS

End ID]

Shadow doesn’t hate hugs inherently; it’s just that no one hugs him in the first place...

...aside from one person.

Amy’s easily the most affectionate character in the cast. It’s cute at first glance, but there’s a common thread to every instance that puts a damper on it.

She’s always, ALWAYS the initiator.

She puts more into each hug than anyone else does.

She’s always the last to pull away.

The most reciprocated Amy hug I know of in canon is this one:

[IDW Sonic issue #22]

Which is absolutely adorable...but Amy still initiated. Because it’s always her job. Even the characters who like affection don’t need it the way she does...with one exception.

And this tiny detail just killed me. The little, “wait, come back 😟”

It’s the only time I know of when someone has actually stepped after her like this. In a game where everyone left Amy behind, he wanted to follow her. Mister so-called-prickly didn’t want the hug to end.

Because he’s the only one who needs it as much as she does.

He wants to be held as much as she wants to hold someone else, and no one else is warm and sincere enough for it. Compare these instances:

[IDW issue #6]

Sonic thinks Shadow is wrong about something, so he grabs Shadow’s arm to stop him, and Shadow aggressively wrenches it away and leaves.

[Archie Sonic Universe #23]

But when Amy thinks Shadow is wrong about something and grabs his arm to stop him, he gently removes her hand and thinks about what she has to say.

Even when he doesn’t want to be touched, he makes the distinction between “don’t touch me” and “not right now, please.” These are from two different continuities, of course, but I think the point stands. Amy’s special. He’s gentler with her than he is with other people, and that’s consistent across all canons.

Side note: how often does Amy get to feel special like that? I actually really like that Sonic doesn’t place others in a hierarchy of importance, and I wouldn’t change that about him even if I could...

[IDW issue #2]

...but Amy does play favorites. I want her to feel like she’s someone else’s favorite, too. I want her to have someone who puts her first and likes her best. I think Shadow’s more than capable of that. I believe he craves clinginess like hers deep down, even if he hasn’t consciously figured that out yet.

I have an entire tag for these two being affectionate. My favorite is probably this one.

Of course, there may be those who say I’m reading too much into one (1) hug. And you know what? Maybe they’re right! We need a bigger sample size. Sega, make more characters hug Shadow, please. Let Rouge comfort him after he confides in her about something. Have Omega give him an awkward metal embrace because he read on the internet that organic beings like that kind of thing. Make Shadow himself pull Silver into a hug when he’s breaking down crying from the stress of always having to be a hero. Show Tails accidentally grab onto him out of fear when they’re trapped in a lightning storm, and when he gets embarrassed and pulls away, have Shadow hold him for the rest of the storm and admit he’s not fond of bright lights, either.

[Sonic Boom]

That scene where Shadow and Amy rescue Cream and Cheese from Cryptic Castle? That easily could’ve turned into a cute group hug.

[Shadow the Hedgehog (2005)]

And I have seen some absolutely adorable fanart where he holds Cream’s hand while he and Amy lead her through Cryptic Castle to make sure she doesn’t get lost 🥺

Have Knuckles give him an empathetic bro-pat on the shoulder when he finds out Shadow’s the last one of his race, too.

[Archie Sonic Universe #89]

Have Sonic try to hug him, and then when Shadow inevitably pushes him away and says he doesn’t do hugs, have Amy arrive and latch onto Shadow instead while he tries to stutter out an excuse as to why she’s allowed to and Sonic isn’t.

The most affection Shadow has in recent history is stuff like this...

[Sonic Prime season 2 episode 1]

...where Sonic tries to hug him and Shadow immediately pushes him away, knocks him over, and tries to punch him in the face. Kind of says it all. Amy stands out as the only one with a good track record here.

[IDW issue #36]

Especially when you have him look at her like this when someone else is on the receiving end of that affection.

So in the absence of further evidence, I have no choice but to interpret this in the most Shadamy way possible. Your move, Sega.

[psuedofolio]

Last week on my character a day thread was more "Magical Girl SCP" characters and I'm realizing I didn't share the pictures from the last time I brought out the psudo scp universe characters so here they are. I'll make the whole story someday. Lore/flavor text is as follows: 1: Fairbanks would often have to insist Isabelle stop skipping her small arms training. She rarely said it, but she was very fond of the junior researcher. And she knew just how unsafe the SAFE Research Department could be.

2: Fairbanks' Notes on the Vampire, "Drymouth."

After 21 days without feeding, she will enter a state of altered consciousness and will speak true prophecies. The Board believes it is worth the ethical costs of starving her. I believe she uses her prophecies to guide us to our destruction.

3: Partial Transcript: Tattoo Parlor, 3:25 PM

Subject X66: "I'm still kinda nervous about the pain, ya know. I'm sure you get that a lot."

Witness: "I... what is... Is that a body mod?"

Subject X66: "What are you talking about?"

Witness: "Holy fuck it moved!"

4: Codename Sunshine is the first entity to take a role in DIR Fairbank's "Special Taskforce." Though the Director believes she is wholly reliable and a potential asset for our field agents, many are skeptical. Her ability to "transmute light into burning liquid" is quote: "Scary AF."

5: Agent Nathan Collier returned to work with REDACTED three months after the incident with Valeria's escape. His personal heroism in subduing the entity aside, it was decided he was unfit for field work. Instead he was reassigned to the SAFE Department on so called "babysitting duty."

6: Ben died a few years ago in an unrelated accident, but ever since then what appears to be his "ghost" continues to check the halls for anomalous readings. Once we calibrated his scanner to account for his own emanations, he returned to being a valued member of *redacted*

7: What limited things we do know is REDACTED's body is made of particles which "absorb" em waves of all kinds, from light to radio. Though REDACTED manages to bypass nearly every security measure we have, they have no connections or intentions that qualify as a threat.

8: Contrary to popular belief, Franklin is NOT an anomalous entity. He is merely a holdover from REDACTED before it became REDACTED. His "good humor and fatherly advice" has often made agents question his true nature. And security monitors him as agents often confide secrets with him.

(ooc note, it was about an hour after drawing this that I realized I basically just drew Clint McElroy)

9: Frm: Dir Fairbanks The girl in our care is not to be referred to as "anomaly" or "spider thing" or by her case number. She has come to us willingly. Her name is Penelope, and but for her anomalous mutations is a normal child. We will provide her normalcy. That is an order.

[wangxianficfinder]

Fic Finder

Aug 29th

~*~

1. hello! i’ve been looking for a fic that involves an OC (i think?) that acts as a beard for nie huaisang. it was wangxian centric but that’s the main detail i remember. thank you!

FOUND? 🧡 Stunted, Starving Juvenility by TomatenMark (E, 859k, WangXian, WIP, Fix-it of sorts, Talisman master WWX, Not JFM Friendly, Study Arc, Getting together, Fluff and Angst, Engagement) has NHS getting himself engaged to a female OC that he has no romantic interest in (& vice versa - she's a lesbian) because she has useful skills

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2. hi! Do you recall a fic where wwx was like an omega courtesan in a school who was bought by lxc for lwj. Mianmian was also there with him too for a bit. I remember a scene where lwj got mad at wwx for wanting to wash him. They fall in love eventually. If you could find this fic I'd be grateful! 🙏

FOUND! Rattling our cages by danegen (E, 69k, wangxian, A/B/O, but like polite, Slow Burn, Pining while fucking, so much hair combing, WWX has a vagina, POV WWX, no yin iron or wars or plot really, Canon Era, spiders–see the notes, Spanish Translation Available)

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3. Hello! Thank you for all the work that you all do <3

I've been trying to look for a fic for some time now. I think it had wangxian pretty much adopting a little girl. Like the girl is an orphan and just keeps clinging to wx and being super sticky and I think there was a plot in her backstory dealing with resentment. Wwx knew abt it but lwj did not figure it out until later i think. This girl just accompanied them on some nighthunt or smth. The story has the Lan take in orphans due to reasons(tm) and the girl was one of them.

FOUND! the low sky, raining over by chibilwj (thelogicoftaste) (M, 37k, WangXian, Post-Canon, Established Relationship, Kid Fic)

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4. Hi. I have a fic to find. In this fic, instead of Yanli dying at Nightless City, Lan Zhan gets critically injured and it sends Wei Wuxian into a spiral. Lan Xichen is very angry at him and will not let him anywhere near his body.

Thank you for your help.

FOUND? If I Could Go Back in Time by Runningbarefoot (M, 122k, WangXian, NieLan, Canon Divergence, Role Reversal, Somebody Lives/Not Everyone Dies, Pining, Angst with a Happy Ending, Grief/Mourning, YL WWX, Eventual Happy Ending, The Twin Jade Brotherhood, Hurt/Comfort, Character Study, Twin Prides of Yúnmèng Dynamics, Slow Burn)

FOUND? 🔒❤️ kick at the darkness ‘til it bleeds daylight by AlfAlfAlfAlfAlf, tardigradeschool (T, 75k, WangXian, Hurt/Comfort, Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Eventual Happy Ending, Getting Together, Burial Mounds Settlement Days, Inspired by The Parent Trap (1998), Kid Fic, teen shenanigans, two a-yuans, Fluff and Angst)

~*~

5. hi this is for fic finder!! i’m looking for a fic where wangxian leave the cultivation world for a while with lan sizhui and only come back accidentally. i’m pretty sure everyone else thinks they’re dead and they might have been residing with baoshan sanren in her mountain. thank you!

FOUND? If It's Too Hard To Forgive by Machevalli (M, 94k, WIP, WangXian, XuanLi, Somebody Lives/Not Everyone Dies, Fluff and Angst, Bittersweet Ending, Yunmeng Jiang Sect Bashing, WWX Leaves the Yunmeng Jiang Sect, Top LWJ/Bottom WWX, Mpreg)

~*~

6. Hello! I'm looking for a WangXian fic, they were both dragon shapeshifters, but they met each other in their dragon forms. They both assumed that the other was a regular dragon and both made the decision to commit to the relationship and live out their lives as dragons from now on. I think only when JYL visited and WWX turned human for her, LWJ realized that he was a shifter too. It might have been a twitter thread fic. Thank you so much for your help!!

~*~

7. Looking for an arranged marriage au for wangxian. Yiling laozu wwx, he and lz don't know each other and lz is initially worried cause of wwx reputation. Wwx does the marriage, but doesn't immediately trust lz cause he could be a spy/sent to hurt wwx etc. Specifically there was a scene where people came and attacked wwx's household, I think wwx was away. Everyone hid in the cellars only to realize a-yuan was missing. Lz goes after him and saves a-yuan from being harmed but gets badly hurt.

This leads wwx to realize he can trust lz. Wwx may have taken lz's sword away before the attack cause of a misunderstanding and lz fought to protect everyone any way. And I think another scene lz comes out in his night clothes and yells at a group of cultivators who had come to rescue lz cause they thought something happened to him and lz is like why r yall breaking into my house in the middle of the night and the cultivators (lxc might have been with them) were like this is awkward.

but mebbe I just made it up/misremembered or accidentally combined things?

FOUND? 💖🔒 love, in fire and blood by cicer (E, 360k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, YLLZ WWX, Arranged Marriage, political scheming, Gratuitous Domesticity, Mutual Pining, EXTREME SLOWBURN, the inherent eroticism of the forehead ribbon, The Mortifying Ordeal of Being Known, neither wwx nor lwj want to be Perceived, but sorry kids! it’s gonna happen!, rated E but the the NSFW stuff doesn’t begin until chapter 19!, bottom LWJ in chapter 20 and 27, Mojo’s post)

FOUND? Caught Between Sun and Shadows by Alliandra (E, 71k, wangxian, LXC & LWJ, grapshic depictions of violence, sunshot campaign, arranged marriage, YLLZ WWX, pining, battle husbands, versatile wangxian, falling in love, resentacles, sex pollen, fuck or die, golden core reveal, politics, hurt/comfort) also sounds like

~*~

8. Fic finder? I'm suspecting it has been deleted but I need to try. It's a fanfic where wwx attempts s*ic*de (suicide) and jc finds him in the bathroom. He calls 911, he's hospitalized and all of that. Please help me 🥲🥲

FOUND! 总有一天; a place to hide (can’t find one near) by yiqie (E, 76k, WangXian, Modern AU, Pianist, Getting Together, Mental Health Issues, Suicide Attempt, Suicidal Thoughts, Depression, Hospitals, Overdosing, Eventual Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Additional Warnings In Author’s Note)

~*~

9. a modern AU where LWJ and WWX reconnected at a party when Su She was hitting in LWJ, takes place in grad school and WWX doesn’t know they were dating until the end when they visit LWJ’s uncle’s cottage

thank you so much for your help!! @anonionsodelicious

FOUND? without your new eyes by anaphoricae (E, 66k, WangXian, Modern, Didn’t Know They Were Dating, Sexuality Discovery, Self-Discovery, Literal Sleeping Together, (there is so much sleeping in this fic), mentions of WWX/others and LWJ/others, Drunk LWJ, Teacher LWJ, WWX is a… throws dart… computer scientist, No Angst, Jealous WWX, Flirty WWX, Eventual Smut, Bottom LWJ, Fluff, Non-Sexual Intimacy, WWX’s Love Language is Physical Touch, Guess what: even more non-sexual sleeping together, the plot of the fic is just… co-sleeping, call it the Nap Fic ™, Podfic Available, WWX isn’t so much 'oblivious’ as he is wilfully blocking some feelings subconsciously, WWX 'idk how I feel’ to 'I’m gonna marry him’ pipeline)

~*~

10. Hi im looking for a specific fic. The fic was on ao3 and was a modern au where Wei Ying realizes he might be a bit gay and kisses lan zhan but then freaks out, and they get a bit awkward. He then goes on to forums to see what others might think of his situation, he tries watching gay porn etc. and finds that he's dreaming of lan zhan. He ends up being jumped by homophobes goes on a drinking binge for the next few days as a result and hears that lan zhan has been staying in his room and hasn't been doing well, wei ying thinks it's because he kissed him but later finds out he sent lan zhan a homophobic message when drunk. Any help would be appreciated!!! @livesformitski

~*~

11. Hello! I was hoping you can help me track this fic down!

In the fic Lan Zhan finds out about Wei Yings golden core and he schemes to get it back with Wen Qing no matter what. I think it was a dark lan Zhan fic?

~*~

12. For FF, I am once again asking for wlw wangxian fics. There’s a specific one I can’t seem to find, wherein Lwj and wwx are roommates, and wwx is planning on moving out to mm’s bc she constantly hears lwj hooking up in her room, but there’s an issue at the new place or something so she keeps putting off moving out until eventually she’s convinced to stay when they get together

I’ve tried digging through tags but it’s giving me issues, I would appreciate you forever if you find it🙏🙏🙏

~*~

13. Hi I'm looking for this wangxian fic but can't find it anywhere, I don't remember a lot but all I remember is lan wangji getting his lashes punishment and wei wuxian (who is alive) turning up getting angry and destroying all the clans. Yanli (also alive) - and I think zixuan- was like ' well what do you all expect, you've all brought this on yourselves'

Sorry I can't remember much else,

Thank you ☺️ @haseenaay99

FOUND? An arrow to the heart by IsilmeLasgalen (T, 47k, WangXian, SongXiao, XuanLi, ZhuiYi, LQY/NMJ, XiSang, A-qing/OYZZ, BSSR/LY, WangXian Get a Happy Ending, YLLZ WWX, WWX Lives, BAMF JYL, Protective WWX, Good Parents LWJ and WWX, Married WangXian Have Children, JGS "falls" down the stairs, Bad Parents JFM and YZY, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, JYL Lives, JZX Lives, Protective WN, Implied/Referenced Abuse, POV Multiple, Post-Sunshot Campaign, Cultivation Sect Politics)

~*~

14. I'm looking for a Modern AU crack-fic-ish from Jiang Cheng's POV (I think?) where Wei Ying seems obliviously in a relationship, and later married, to Lan Zhan. It's also implied that maybe they're just trolling Jiang Cheng. @hiperfyxation

FOUND? Six in one hand by deliciousblizzardshark (T, 2k, WangXian, Modern: No Powers, Crack Treated Seriously, Compulsory Heterosexuality, POV JC)

~*~

15. Hi i need help looking for a fic. I don’t remember much but it was a sort of time travel fic where wei wuxian goes back in time. I think there was a scene during the sun shot campaign where wangxian confess? I remember lan wangji being jealous of his future/ alternate self who is wwx’s husband

I’m so sorry I don’t remember more but please help me find this fic 🥹

FOUND! 🔒 if you can’t beat them, recruit them by moeblobmegane (T, 228k, Wangxian, NHS & WWX, WWX & WQ, Time Travel Fix-It, Conspiracy, Spies & Secret Agents, Team as Family, Found Family, Burial Mounds, Temporary Character Death, Canon-Typical Violence, Pining, Morally Ambiguous Character, Rumors, Politics, Developing Friendships, Good Uncle LQR, Demonic Cultivation, YilingWei Sect) i think its - chapter 26

~*~

16. Hi, this is for a fic finder. I’m looking for a fic where WWX is a Wen. When Lans were attacked, LWJ, LSJ and LJY were taken to Qishan but were taken under WWX’s wings and they were taken care of. It was lan sect bashing and LQR bashing. LWJ did not return to Lans. I just remember that towards the end of the fic, there was a scene where WWX asked his spies from each sect to come out and MXY came out from Jiang, XY came out from Nie and MY was from Jin. I thought I’ve bookmarked it but could find it. I also have checked Wen WWX compilations and War Prize LWZ compilations. Did not find in either list. I’d appreciate if anyone know the name! Thank you!

FOUND? To the Heavens and the Earth by IsilmeLasgalen (E, 77k, WangXian, WWX is a Wēn, POV LWJ, Good Parent LWJ, Marriage of Convenience, Accidental Marriage, Implied Mpreg, Time Travel, Canon Divergence, WWX Isn't Adopted by the Jiāngs, CSSR and WCZ Live BAMF WWX, BAMF LWJ, Cultivation Sect Politics, Bottom LWJ, Top WWX, POV NHS, Protective LJY, Good Person WRH, Protective LXC, Immortal LWJ and WWX, POV LXC, Mpreg, WangXian in Love, Soft WangXian, WangXian Get a Happy Ending, POV JZX, Emperor WWX, Emperor LWJ, Past WWX/Other(s), Everybody Lives, Fluff, Angst, Smut, LWJ is LJY's Parent)

~*~

17. Hi! I'm trying to find a fic where lej continuously aaja to play cleansing fir wwc but he keeps reusing cuz resentful energy is the only thing holding his body together but the eventually agrees and then almost dies but wen qung is there and then the course reveal happens and it angsty and wwc thinks lans wouldn't have cared if he told them cheating him if resentment could possibly kill him, thanku!

FOUND? 🧡 decay by antebunny (G, 15k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Angst, Misunderstandings, Miscommunication, Fix-It, Angst with a Happy Ending, the fluffiest ending, Hurt/Comfort)

~*~

18. Hello, this is a fic finder ask:

I’m not sure of the entire plot the the fic but I remember Meng Yao getting caught and being slapped by SiSi in front of the other sect leaders because of what he tried to do knowing his mom’s upbringing. He tries to play it off but he gets imprisoned in a Lanling Tower and isn’t allowed to use anything with strings because of what he did to Nie Mingjue.

FOUND? 💖🔒 love, in fire and blood by cicer (E, 360k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, YLLZ WWX, Arranged Marriage, political scheming, Gratuitous Domesticity, Mutual Pining, EXTREME SLOWBURN, the inherent eroticism of the forehead ribbon, The Mortifying Ordeal of Being Known, neither wwx nor lwj want to be Perceived, but sorry kids! it’s gonna happen!, rated E but the the NSFW stuff doesn’t begin until chapter 19!, bottom LWJ in chapter 20 and 27, Mojo’s post) I think #18 is - chapter 30. But its only has the slapping part

~*~

19. hi, I have a finder fic ask, well two actually:

A. jin guangshan tries to assault yanli but he is stopped but there’s a plot twist because yanli knew it would happen because jin guangshan has a special garden when he does that to people and she is maybe a time traveler so she sets him up to be caught

B. WWX has died and there’s a celebration happening and there’s this special guest that will be there, possibly called The Painter, and when they get there the guest actually sings the story of how the different sects are hypocrites and the guest curses all of them except Lan Wangji and when the guest goes to leave, they lift up their veil and reveal themselves to be baoshan sanren.

~*~

20. Hi!!! I hope you're doing well. Please help me find this fic. It's a modern setting one, where I think WWX is sending LWJ suggestive pictures and videos of himself, and LWJ just doesn't know who it is. I think WWX is some kind of IT or something. I came across this fic on Twitter/X in a promotional of the AO3 fic, but I can't find it anymore. I forgot the parts of the fic but I know there's pictures and chat logs inserted in the fic. Please help me and thank you so much!!!

FOUND? might be this thread (unrolled because I don't have twitter)

also on ao3 its called + xx xxx xxx xxxx by 3neetee (E, 12k, WangXian, Modern, Shameless Smut, PWP, Dom/sub, Stalker WWX, Manipulative LWJ, Anal Sex, Anal Fingering, Masturbation, Rimming, Spanking, Spit Kink, Under-negotiated Kink, Identity Porn, Explicit/NSFW Pictures, Twitter threadfic, Semi-Public Sex, freak4freak wangxian)

~*~

[420days]

Chapter 2

masterlist

"Come on momma. We're gonna get you and my nephew something to eat." Sabrina rubbed her best friend's stomach as they walked out the doctors office.

Kaliyah walked behind her friend slowly feeling sad as ever. Considering she found out she was having a baby boy you'd think she would be happy but she was feeling the exact opposite.

Just three months ago she found out she was two months pregnant with her baby and it felt so unreal.

From the moment she found out she was pregnant she was filled with nothing but mixed emotions.

She even contemplated getting an abortion and showed up to the appointment but at the last minute she couldn't bring herself to do it. The thought of having an abortion was more to burry her feelings about Jey rather than her not wanting a baby.

She wanted to keep her baby and that's what she decided to do.

"What do you want to eat?"

"I'm not hungry. I just wanna go home." Kaliyah told her as she put her seatbelt on and turned towards the window.

"I know you're upset but you can't starve my nephew. What does he want? A deluxe combo and a lemonade?" She teased.

Rolling her eyes Kaliyah broke into a small smile. The sound of food made her happy no matter what.

These days all her son craved was Chick Fil A which was weird to her because she didn't care for it too much before she got pregnant

"Whatever, just give my son some food."

It didn't take them long to get their food considering how great Chick Fil A's customer service was. The food didn't stand a chance and was gone before she even got home.

"Call me tomorrow and stop being so sad!" Sabrina yelled as Kaliyah walked to the door and took her keys out.

"Bye Sabrina!" She stuck up the middle finger.

When she got in the house she stepped out of the clothes she was wearing and hopped in the shower.

She was exhausted because all day Sabrina drove her around making her run errands with her in order to get her out the house. While she appreciated her friends effort all she wanted to do was stay in the house until the baby got here.

As she brushed her hair into a ponytail her phone vibrated with a message from a familiar number.

Picking up her phone she read over the message before responding.

Maybe (Jey 💗): What u want?

I need to tell something important. Can I call you?

Maybe(Jey 💗): Nah, you can text me what you want before I change my mind about unblocking you

I'm pregnant

Maybe(Jey 💗): ????

Maybe(Jey 💗): So what you tryna say it's mine?

Please don't do that. You know it's yours.

Maybe (Jey 💗): I don't know nothing. Ima need a test before you put anything on me.

Nevermind, forget I even brought it up. You can just block me again.

I don't know why I even wasted my time with you.

My and my baby will be fine.

Maybe(Jey 💗): Calm down, how I know you're not fucking with me?

Why would I be wasting my time? You made it clear you don't fucking like me. I'm putting my feelings and pride aside to reach out to you so my son can have a father in his life but really just forget it.

Maybe(Jey 💗): Son?

She read over her last message and decided to just leave it alone. She was over going back and for with him. If he didn't believe her than that's what it is.

Shaking her head she turned her phone off and prepared herself for some much needed sleep.

-

On the other side of town. Jey sat in his car, smoking a unt to calm his nerves. Ever since Kaliyah told him she was pregnant his mind was all over the place. He wasn't ready to be a father but if it was his baby he wouldn't have a choice but to step up to his responsibilities.

Especially when it comes to having a son. Every kid needed their father but with a son it was just different. There were so many things he learned from his father and it was only right to pass that down to his son.

Staring down at his down he went to his message thread to see if he had any message from Kaliyah but there was nothing. The messages he attempted to her send her weren't delivering and it was pissing him off.

"I know her ass ain't block me." He mumbled to himself as he put the blunt out and turned on his car.

After turning a 30 minutes drive into a 15 minute drive he arrived at Kaliyahs house. He knew from her car out front that she was home and that annoyed him even more.

Parking his car behind hers he got out the car and knocked on her door as hard as he could.A few moments later she found these her coming the stairs and yanked the front door open.

"What the hell is wrong with you? Banging on my door like that?" She yelled at him but he was too mesmerized by her large stomach peaking from her tank top and her small pajama shorts.

"Hello!" She snapped her finger in his face making him look up at her. Her pregnancy has her looking different and he liked it. Every part of her body filled out, her hair was longer and she carried a nice glow on her face.

"Can you stop yelling? I ain't come over here for that." He sucked his teeth once he snapped back into reality.

"What do you want?"

"Let's go inside."

"No, you're coming in my house. And I just lit some sage earlier, tuh.” She rolled her eyes.

"Yeah? Did your skin start burning?" He said smartly making her squint her eyes at him.

"What the fuck ever. If there's nothing you want you can leave my home." She waved him off.

"Listen, I'm trying to fix this shit. Can we go inside and talk?" He asked her.

"We can sit in your car."

"I just smoked in there. Y'all don't need to be around that." He told her and she nodded knowing it wasn't good for the baby.

Stepping back from the door she let him inside of the house and made her way into the living room.

“That's my baby?" He asked her after they sat in slings for a moment.

"Yes, I really don't know why you keep asking me that. If you want a test pay for it when the baby gets here or don't. I really don't care at this point."

“ I can't ask? I haven't seen you in five months I don't know what you be doing Kay."

"Whose fault is that? I didn't break your heart and block you on everything." She rolled her eyes.

"Why you keep saying I broke your heart? I was honest with you from the start."

"You just don't get it." She shook her head.

"I really don't so tell me."

"You said you wanted to have sex. And that's what we did but then we started texting all day, falling asleep on the phone, going out together and then you go me pregnant. The whole time we're doing things that's more than just fucking and it meant nothing to you. Like it literally meant nothing and that's fine. I hurt my own feelings thinking that those things actually meant something so I can't be mad at you." She wiped her face.

"I never meant to break your heart. You're a good person for real and I took a liking to you but I'm really not ready for all that. I don't wanna be tied down in a relationship and that's why I distanced myself from you. I knew you started feeling a way and that's not what I intended." He said honestly, breaking her heart all over again.

"That's cool, let's just take care of our baby." She told him.

"I can do that."

⠄･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄ ⠄･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄ ⠄･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆

tags: @bebesobrielo @trentybenty @amandairene88 @kiki1704 @paigereeder @uceyliyahh @skyesthebomb @cyberdejos2 @chloeijuana @tian-monique

⠄･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄ ⠄･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄ ⠄･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆

[mediumgayitalian]

When Nico asks him out, there is vomit on his scrubs. His hair is disgusting. The bags under his eyes are actually the size of Texas, and he was born there so he says it in good confidence.

Also, it goes right over his head.

“Gods, yeah,” Will sighs, relieved. “Yeah, I could —” He laughs, a little hysterically, scrubbing his hand over his face and trying to blink the sudden onslaught of dizzy away. “I’m starving. I am — tired of this stupid room. I could use dinner out.”

“Great,” Nico says, rocking back on his heels. He twists his skull ring around his finger, like he does when he’s nervous, but there’s a tiny twitch at the corner of his mouth that Will has learned, in the past few weeks of his help in the infirmary, is a smile. “I’ll — um, I’ll pick you up at seven?”

Will glances down at the rapidly-drying splatter of vomit spreading from his right shoulder all the way down to his belly button. The nasty brown-yellow colour of it clashes so violently with the mint-green of his scrubs that it might be a felony, actually. The one whole spaghetti noodle smack in the middle of it does not help.

“Yeah, I’ll need at least that long in the shower.”

Nico’s face goes through a very complicated string of emotions. “I think you look nice,” he offers.

“You and I have very different definitions of ‘nice’, di Angelo,” Will snorts. He gestures behind him. “Bye, Nico. I’ll see you in a few hours?”

“Right. Bye, Will.”

“Hey, first name status!”

“Shut up, Solace. Go change your shirt.”

Will snickers, jogging down the Big House stairs with a backwards wave. He hustles past campers jogging towards their daily activities, ducking into the Apollo cabin before someone can ask him for something.

It’s been a busy few weeks.

The Giant War was…well. It’s over, now, is the point, but it was not without casualties, and it was not without injury, and injury, and injury. Plus the flu that just had to hit right before the Romans were about to head back to California. Will has spent more nights in the infirmary in the last few weeks than he ever has, including after the Titan War. Understaffed does not begin to cover it. He had to beg Cecil for his secret Redbull stash after his third straight day on his feet, praying to his father, his aunt, and any other god who was listening to keep his hands from shaking. Without Nico’s help — well, he doesn’t want to think about how things would have gone without Nico’s help.

He’d slept through his promised three days in the infirmary. Will had restitched his werewolf scratching (—his werewolf scratches his fucking werewolf scratches his fucking shitting goddamn werewolf scratches that he stitched with sewing thread and left for gods know how many days and Will is going to quit his job, he is, he is going to live in a hut in the Florida Everglades and chase questers away with a fucking broom—) as he slept on the first day, then spent the next days glaring at him in seething jealousy.

He had wanted to sleep. He had wanted to sleep so godsdamn badly. And yet. He was plastering salve on the translucent fingers of a dumbass who pushed himself too hard.

“You can’t tell me what to do,” Will had mocked, ignoring the yelled you’re losing it, Willy! from Kayla as she passed by. “Nyeh nyeh nyeh. I can shadow travel wherever I want. Nyeh nyeh nyeh. Catch me I’m about to pass out. Nyeh nyeh nyeh.”

“I never asked you to catch me,” muttered Nico, groggily, and Will had screamed.

Not his best moment.

Luckily, his string of colourful cursing had killed any idea that Will was scared of him, or something, and the list of chores he’d doled out the second he made sure Nico could walk had put the idea in the grave.

He still can’t quite believe that Nico actually, like…listened. But he’s a good bandage cutter (very accurate) and, as a super fun bonus, the Romans were all scared of him, so when they tried to get out of their cots while their limbs were literally hanging onto them by a thread, Will just had Nico stand behind him and glare at them until they sat their asses back down.

(“You are without a doubt the best nurse I’ve ever had,” Will had grumbled, sticking his tongue out at Austin, who lazily tried to trip him. Nico had rolled his eyes, huffing as if he thought Will was joking.)

“Wow,” says Cecil, sitting in Will’s bed for some reason. He rakes his eyes up and down his body, whistling appreciatively at the towel around his waist. Will rolls his eyes and starts digging through his dresser drawers. “Look at you! So human-like! No zombie eyebags to be seen!”

“Showers don’t erase eyebags, dick for brains.”

“True, but you’re so hot when you’re not covered in blood and vomit that I can overlook them.”

“Kiss my ass, Cecil.”

“Really? Is that permission?”

Will laughs, admitting defeat. He tugs on a pair of boxers, then tosses a few clothing options on his bed.

“Yeah, yeah. It’s good to be out, Zeus’ beard. Nico’s taking me to dinner; d’you know if it’s cold in the city? And I should probably wear real shoes, right, Annabeth mentioned something about New York bacteria —”

“Woah, woah, hold on, William, pause there for a second.”

Will looks up, frowning. “What?”

“Nico’s taking you to dinner?”

Cecil’s eyes are wide. Reflexively, Will pats his chin, paranoid he’s got something on his face.

“…Yes? Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Nothing! Nothing, nothing.” Quickly, Cecil schools his face back to its usual smirk, leaning casually against the bedpost. (He misses. Mercifully, Will decides to let it slide and wait for him to straighten himself. He’s a good friend, like that.)

“Well, obviously something.”

“Nope! I’m just —” He softens. “I’m glad you’re taking a break, Willy. We’ve been worried about you. Remind me to send him a lock pick set.”

“Most people send fruit,” Will suggests gently. He cuffs Cecil playfully on the jaw, rolling his eyes when Cecil catches his hand and presses a loudly exaggerated kiss to it. “Or flowers. Also, don’t call me Willy.”

“Sorry, Willy.”

“Gods, you’re infuriating.”

“Mhm. And yet you adore me. Oou, wear the grey plaid shirt, it makes your eyes look bluer. And for the love of Hermes, do not wear shorts.”

———

At seven o’clock sharp, there’s a knock on the doorframe.

“Uh, hi?”

“Nico!” Will says brightly. “Hi! You don’t have to wait by the door, dorkus. Come in.”

With a second of hesitation, Nico steps in. The usually creaky floorboards are silent under his black Chucks. Will chooses to believe that’s on purpose, because it’s cooler.

“You can sit if you want! Unless we gotta leave right away. I wasn’t actually sure, are we just going to McDonald’s or something? Also, I told Cecil he couldn’t come, I figured three would make it a party or something but lemme know if we’re bringing friends along and —”

“We’re not,” Nico interrupts.

“—tell them.” Will blinks at him, then smiles. “Just you and me, then.”

Nico clears his throat. “Yeah.” He glances up at Will, and away again, like he can’t hold his gaze for too long. He looks a little flushed. “You, uh. You braided your hair.”

“What? Oh!” Will touches the French braids on either side of his head, smiling. “Yeah, I finally had the time. Keeps my hair back better than much else. Hey, Nico, you good? You looked flushed, maybe you should —”

Nico catches his hand. He smiles.

“I’m fine, Solace. You just look nice, is all.”

Will snorts. “No kidding. Anything’s better than the vomit shirt.”

———

Nico refuses to answer any of his questions about where they’re going.

Or, well. Will asks him and endless string of questions and receives only hums or nods in response, except for the odd huff of laughter when Will pouts.

“C’mon! Can’t I just know where we’re going?”

“You’re about to.”

“I mean now, Death Breath.”

“Well, now I’m definitely not telling you.”

“Ugh.”

Nico places a fleeting hand on his elbow as they reach the base of Half-Blood Hill, stalling him.

“Wait.”

Will pauses, listening. His heartbeat picks up. Monster? Monsters?

He glances over at Nico, noticing the tension in his face, the twist to his mouth, the —

Oh, no he doesn’t.

“Hold it, Gerard Way!”

Nico startles.

“What?”

“I know that face! You are not shadow-travelling us to the city, no way, no how, do you want to dissolve —”

“Will,” Nico interrupts, laughing softly, “Will, trust me for a second. Do you trust me?”

“Yes.”

Nico blinks. Will flushes.

“That was fast.”

“Well! Well.”

“I’m not shadow-travelling,” Nico promises, changing the subject when it’s clear Will has nothing to say. “I’m just summoning our ride. I promise it won’t drain me.”

“…Fine.”

Rolling his eyes fondly, Nico screws up his face again. The tiny freckles on the bridge of his nose are more obvious when he wrinkles it. Will has to shove his hands in his pockets to keep from touching them.

One moment, there’s nothing but empty road in front of them. The next, there’s a massive fucking limo, driven by what Will can only describe as a ghoul.

“There,” Nico says happily. “Our ride!”

He jogs over to the sleek black limo, leaving Will gaping. With a quick hand to keep the driver from getting up, he opens the back door, gesturing broadly.

“C’mon, Sunshine.”

Will recovers quickly. He’s never been in a limo before — hell, he’s hardly ever been in cars. He slides into the black leather seats, gaping, barely noticing Nico ducking in and closing the door behind him.

“Cleveland and Merrick, please, Jules-Albert.”

Limos are crazy.

If hotel mini bars were, like, physical places rather than tiny bottles in mini fridges, they would look like limos. The windows are tinted, so the interior is dark, illuminated a softly glowing red by strips of LEDs. There is an actual TV screen, although it’s not on. Will feels like James Bond.

“Gift from my dad,” Nico explains. “He knows he can’t always be there to drive me around, so he got Jules-Albert to take me places. He’s cool. He even answers to me, technically, and not my dad, so if anything happens back here he won’t snitch.” Nico gets so violently red he damn near goes invisible under the LEDs. “Not that — I mean, it’s more like —”

“That is so cool,” Will breathes. “Oh my gods, Nico, you are literally the coolest demigod in the world.”

“Hah,” says Nico weakly. The limo (!!) slows to a stop. “We are — here, let’s go!”

Nico practically throws himself out of the limo. Will takes one last look, thanks Jules-Albert, and hurries out after him.

———

“You gotta be kidding me.”

“What?” Nico looks at him defensively. The corner of his mouth twitches. “I thought it was pretty funny.”

Apollo Restaurant Diner, reads the garish, flashing yellow sign. Seniors half-off!

Will nudges Nico’s side as they walk in. “You should ask for the discount.”

“Keep it up and you’re paying for yourself, Solace.”

Nico guides them into a booth by the window before he can say anything. In seconds, a server is strolling up to them, popping their bubblegum and grinning.

“Welcome to Apollo’s, where if we don’t predict your order, it’s free! I’ll get you guys some sodas, and…hm. Fries to share, I think.”

They’re off, ponytail bouncing, before either of them can say anything.

“Well,” says Nico after a moment. “I guess we’re having fries.”

Will snorts. “You love fries. You love anything fried and battered, because there is nothing you love more than poor decision making.”

“Caught me, Solace.”

“Aw. I thought —”

Their server pops back in with their sodas, nodding as they thank them.

“— I thought I was bumped up to first name status! You called me Will earlier.”

Nico slurps obnoxiously at his cherry coke.

“No, I didn’t.”

“Did too!”

“Not a jury in the world will believe you, Solace.”

Will blows his straw wrapper at him. Nico barely dodges, laughing — a real, open laugh, where some of the guard drops from his shoulders, where his smile is wide enough to show his teeth, where his dark eyes cringe near shut.

“You’re so lame. Get your stupid straw wrapper away from me.”

Will feels like he doesn’t respond for ages, mesmerized by the crooked curve of Nico’s smile. There’s mischief in that smile, and oddly it makes shyness bloom in Will’s chest, it makes the tips of his ears red, makes him duck his head.

Will’s saved from trying to come up with a comment by the massive — truly gigantic — platter of fries set between them.

“Holy shit,” breathes Will, alarmed.

“Holy shit,” breathes Nico, eyes wide. The smile grows wider. “Holy shit!”

Will’s stomach growls. He’s reminded how truly hungry he is, and without another word, the two of them dig in.

They end up ordering another platter. Will theorizes that, in total, they eat at least seven whole potatoes.

“How many fries do you think is in one potato?”

“A yukon?” says Will. “Like, twenty-five, at least. Wait, hold on, pass me your napkin, lemme do the math.”

“Gods, you are such a nerd.”

Will loses count of how many times they refill their sodas. Too many. Camp food is usually very healthy — as head medic, Will has to set an example, but it’s just Nico, here. Will eats himself into a minor food coma and relishes in it. When Nico asks if he wants to order one of the giant milkshakes, he doesn’t hesitate.

“Duh. Strawberry.”

“Gross, Solace. Vanilla or nothing.”

“Basic ass bitch.”

“At least I’m not vying for strawberry!”

By the time Nico gets up to go get their bill, the sun has long since set. Will realises he forgot to put his watch back on after his shower, and has no idea what time it actually is.

“Nine-thirty ish,” Nico says, opening the limo door for him. “We’ll be back at camp at ten.”

Will grimaces. “Fuck. Will Jules-Albert chill overnight? If we try to go back to our cabins, the curfew harpies are gonna eat us.”

“Scared, Solace?”

Nico’s eyes are bright and teasing. Will wonders how the hell other campers find him so frightening — the little twitches of his mouth are so obvious. Some people are just oblivious.

“Of course I’m scared, you dickhead. What am I gonna do, sing a hymn until they go away?”

Nico snorts. “You worry too much. They’re afraid of me, you know. They’ll steer clear.”

“You have a lot of confidence in how much you scare people, which is crazy for someone who’s five eight.”

“Oh, piss off.”

Will grins. “Never.”

The drive back to camp feels shorter than it is. The limo’s seats are stupid comfortable, and Nico is a warm presence beside him, and more than anything, Will is exhausted. Last time he slept was — Thursday? He’s pretty sure? He definitely slept on Wednesday, and he’s pretty sure Kayla locked him in the back office with a pillow on Thursday. But maybe that was this morning.

“Will, hey.” A cool, calloused hand brushes over his forehead, and he leans into it, humming. “Get up, you loser. We’re here.”

Will groans. “Five more minutes.”

The soft, gravelly chuckles are the most musical things he’s ever heard. “Up you get, Sunshine, or I’ll let the harpies eat you.”

That gets Will up fast. He shoves Nico away, who’s still snickering at him, grumbling as he crawls out of the limo.

“It’s like you want me to die of stress.”

“Nah.”

They wave goodbye to Jules-Albert, who disappears in a blink. Halfway up the hill, a hand closes around his. Will glances over to Nico in surprise, but he looks resolutely ahead.

“I can feel you freaking out.” He clears his throat. “I told you, Solace. I’ll protect you.”

“That’s not what you said,” Will grumbles, but it’s hard to get his attitude across when his cheeks ache from smiling.

Nico ends up being right — the harpies steer clear of them. He looks very smug about being right, smirking all the way up to the Apollo Cabin door. He walks him up the creaking steps, pausing at the door. He lets go of Will’s hand, which is kind of a bummer. Will had liked holding his hand — physical proof that Nico was becoming more comfortable with him.

“So,” Nico says, rocking back and forth on his heels.

“So,” Will parrots, grinning. He grins wider at Nico’s scowl, gently illuminated by the soft glow of the Apollo cabin. “I had fun tonight, Nico. I needed that.”

Nico’s whole face softens. “Yeah?”

“Yes.” Will smiles at him again. “Thank you.”

For a second, Nico’s slight smile melts into a more serious expression. Will finds himself lingering, searching Nico’s face. Waiting.

Quick as a dart, Nico leans up and presses a kiss to Will’s cheek.

“Oh,” Will breathes, eyes wide. His fingers come up and brush the spot Nico kissed, skin tingling.

Nico looks at him nervously. “Was that okay?”

It takes Will a solid few seconds to answer. Even then, it’s not any recognizable words — more of an embarrassing hnnnnngh wha.

Nico grins. “Goodnight, Sunshine.”

“Nico — wait.”

“Harpies, Sunshine.”

Will could swear he sees Nico’s shoulders shaking with laughter as he walks away. Which — huh! Pardon! Excuse.

“Nico! Was! Was this a date!”

“I’ll see you in the morning, Will.”

“Nico!”

Nico disappears down the bend without answering. Will manages to catch the curve of his smile before he goes.

He doesn’t sleep a wink.

[colie-nne]

i-c-o-n-i-c part2

pairing: lewis hamilton x fem!reader | instagram au

summary: what it feels like to be the most iconic yet controversial couple in the paddock.

warning: implied age gap

requested: yes | no - REQUESTS ARE OPEN

a/n: back with lewis hamilton after the break. this wasn't what i planned on doing but i forgot what i was supposed to make for the second part so this is me trying to get back on the pace i had before. Hope you guys like this!!!

lewishamilton

liked by yourusername, georgerussell63 and 1,211,529 others

lewishamilton welcome back to the real world yourusername

view all 421,890 comments

yourusername scary is good

lewishamilton and Good is scary user I don't get it but I love it!!!

user lewis really said fuck ya'll haters

user she's so pretty

user the prettiest couple user they match each other so well

user came from y/n's post and the matching vacation pics are so cute for them to do.

yourusername

liked by lewishamilton, mickschumacher and 826,392 others

yourusername It's good to be back. thank you for the warm welcome lewishamilton ❤️

view all 93,248 comments

lewishamilton i'll always welcome you anywhere

yourusername lewis🥺 user they're such a simp for each other georgerussell63 more like lewis is a simp for y/n user OH?!?!

user the queen has returned!! we have been starved for about a year it's time to feed.

mickschumacher welcome back trouble maker!! does this mean you'll post the pictures on main?

yourusername hmm.. I'll think about it lewishamilton please no yourusername might change that to a yes user i missed these threads so much😭

user Y/N I MISSED YOU!!!!!!!!

Daily WAG updates

349,056 likes

Daily WAG updates Y/n L/n has returned to the real world after going private almost a year ago. She and Lewis have posted sweet couple pictures in their accounts to confirm her return. Now that she's back we can only sit and wait for Lewis and paddock content instead of stories and snaps of her from fans that had spotted her from past races. Again, welcome back yourusername.

view all 7,348 comments

user is it just me but after every lewis post i'm waiting for someone to address something

user same!! this time i'm really hoping he calls out those who sent hate to y/n. it's been too long user i agree, hopefully this happens.

user more boyfriend lewis content AAAA i can't wait!!

user haters been quiet ever since lewis initiated the post.... can't wait to see what happens when he calls them out

yourusername

liked by lewishamilton, mercedesamgf1 and 899,032 others

yourusername this is what i'm talking about!! p1, congratulations my heart!! (some post race pic at the end)

view all 1,967 comments

lewishamilton my win for you and the team

mercedesamgf1 certainly a win for each and everyone of us user admin don't block their sweet comments 😭 yourusername everyone's 🐐 and my ❤️

user still think you're shit, lewis can't help your situation bruh

user i thought you guys were done with this, gosh haven't you have enough user no, not really as long as she's leeching off of him i won't stop user goodluck then

lewishamilton has posted a story

Daily WAG updates

927,982 likes

Daily WAG updates Lewis Hamilton has taken to instagram his response on the hate his long-term girlfriend Y/n L/n has been receiving. And based on his response it was y/n who has chosen to lay low and not respond to the haters but lewis has had enough and took matter into his own hands. Let me know what you think in the comments.

view all 392,128 comments

user this proves how strong of a woman y/n is for withstanding the constant bullying being thrown at her. I stand with Y/n and Lewis, always

user the fact that he didn't call the haters fans of his but rather of the team, tells me that he really has had enough of them.

user haters will be haters but they can never be on par with the goat of a couple!!!!

user ....wait. "soon my family" ????? are they saying they're engaged? a baby? lewis what do you mean??

yourusername

liked by lewishamilton, mickschumacher and 1,027,923 others

yourusername it appears that someone had a slip up. Well better early than never?? is that right? Thank you for being with me through all the ups and downs hoping to be with you through the thick and thin. (the before and after proposal was iconic)

view all 830,487 comments

user HUHHH SO HE PROPOSED AT THEIR BEACH GET UP THAT EXPLAINS THA MATCHING BEACH PHOTOS WHEN SHE RETURNED!!

lewishamilton i've got more pictures of your after if you want?

yourusername no❤️ mickschumacher so you won't post the pictures on main? yourusername i will when the time is right micky lewishamilton the time is always right

user what a way to end the hate train. a post from the lewis hamilton and and engagement post from y/n l/n

user haters really been quiet after being called out. serves them right

[findingnemosworld]

𝐢 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐚 𝐛𝐢𝐭 𝐭𝐨𝐨 𝐦𝐮𝐜𝐡 - 𝐝𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐢𝐤 𝐬𝐳𝐨𝐛𝐨𝐬𝐳𝐥𝐚𝐢

• 𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐲: 𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐲𝐦𝐨𝐮𝐬

( 𝐛𝐚𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭 )

𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐠𝐞𝐫 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠: 𝐚 𝐫𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐫 𝐜𝐨𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐨𝐟 𝐞𝐦𝐨𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬.

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐢𝐬 𝐛𝐚𝐝 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐢 𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐝, 𝐞𝐧𝐣𝐨𝐲

How could she just sit there and laugh and look so beautiful?

He sat next to Trent, Curtis, Harvey and Ibrahima who were in the midst of chatting over the upcoming match whilst across from them, she sat with one of the media interns, chatting about something which clearly drew out a laugh from her as she couldn't stop giggling the entire time he was watching her - to say he was furious would be an understatement, he was vexed, irate and everything under the sun, the intern was a male and if one were to look at them from a distance, he'd probably be under the impression that they were on a date.

He felt covetous, yes he was covetous.

He wanted - no he needed her yet it felt like they were running around one another in circles, they had a bond, a very close bond, they'd spent nights in each other's homes, shared tender kisses, soft touches and then some; yet, it seemed like she had no desire to admit the obvious, going as far as to ignore him in public or converse in a manner that admittedly shattered his heart, she was indifferent to the connection between them, while he tried to understand her reasoning, he was far too devastated by her lack of communication to remain as patient as he could.

He waited for the perfect opportunity, she'd left the canteen - five minutes in, he followed her all the way to her office; without so much of a warning, he locked the door behind them causing her to turn around and look at him with a confused expression, " What're yo- Oh? " she was silenced by his lips pressing entirely over hers, one hand tightly gripped her waist while the other rests on the back of her neck pulling her in.

A few minutes in, he pulls back and whispers. " I've wanted to do this all morning "

She giggles, " You're something else! " suddenly she’s hoisted up and placed on the chair in her office, she watched him as he kneeled down in front of her, " What are you doing? " she asks with a raised brow.

He shot her a smirk then leaned in, spreading her legs apart before he pressed featherlight kisses across her inner thighs, " I’m starving, so be a good girl and let me eat "

Before she can respond, a soft gasp escapes her lips at the feel of his lips pressing a tender kiss over her clothed cunt, " Oh! " she reaches over to thread her digits through his hair while he pushes her panties to the side, " Ple– Fuck, Oh my god " she moaned the moment she felt his tongue slide through her slick cunt coupled with his index finger curling inside of her. " Domi " she whimpers.

His gaze shot up to meet hers, his palm rests on her thigh to hold her in place while he continued to devour her like a starved man – she leaned her head back, she struggles to keep her eyes open for a brief moment before she felt a sharp sting against her pussy walls causing her to yelp.

He shot her a glare then murmured against her slick pussy, " Keep your eyes, I want you to watch me while I eat this delicious cunt "

She squirms and whines, " Uh … " her chest rises and falls at a rapid pace, " Fuck, just like that " she thrusts her pussy against his face, the knot in her lower stomach building up. " I .. Fuck, I’m gonna cum "

He pushed his middle digit along with his index digit, while his tongue moved up and down until he felt her arousal exploded against his tongue, he lapped up every drop then pulled back, " Just as delicious as the first time "

He hoists her up then sits down and pulls her on his lap, he pulls her in for a soft kiss before he murmured, " Think you got it in you to ride my cock baba "

She nods, pressing a soft kiss to his lips before she reached over to pull the length of his cock out his sweats, drawing out a hiss from him which quickly shifted into a strangled moan the moment his cock effortlessly slipped into her pussy, " Ó, bébi… " he sighs, gripping her waist, " Fuck "

He tugs her close for a kiss while she moved up and down, the friction of their hips colliding drew out the sweetest sounds from the two of them, His breath grew labored as he murmurs, " Such a good girl, such a good girl pillangó "

Her thrusts became sloppy as she moved at a rapid pace, whining and whimpering. " Oh …, Oh fuck, fuck " a few thrusts in and she collapsed on top of him, he wrapped his arm around her waist then kissed the top of her head. " I needed that " she giggled.

He didn’t respond which confused her, she lifts her head up then says, " What’s wrong? "

He didn’t respond, instead he helps her off of him and the pair get dressed before he blurted out the one phrase that shifted everything between them …

" I want more … "

She looks up at him, confused by his phrase – causing her to tilt her head, " What do you mean? "

" You know exactly what I mean baba " He states with a ponderous voice. " Aren’t you tired of us running in circles? I mean we’re basically a couple but you’re refusing to admit that we are "

" We never said we are " She interjects refusing to admit what was right there in front of them. " Besides, If I remember correctly, we agreed that it would be an arrangement "

" Maybe for you but not for me " He shakes his head, his eyes darkened by the emotion he’d been withholding inside. " Baba, I adore you and this whole time, we’ve been acting like a couple but you just won’t admit it because of something that happened in the past, something that shouldn’t affect your future "

Her eyes widened as her mind drew her back to that very day — she visibly shivered, her lips trembled. " I … I … " her eyes were glossy with tears threatening to fall.

" You know what " He said calmly, with a broken smile. " If you don’t want to admit that we have something, then I don’t think I can do this anymore "

Before she could even muster up a reply, he storms out of her office leaving with a part of her already bruised heart – she lets out a sob, as the realization of her actions finally caught up to her.

The fact of the matter was that she knew she was in love with him yet she couldn’t bring her self to admit it, mostly due to the trauma she had endured, three years ago, before she had stepped into Liverpool, she was madly in love with a man, a football player for a local team in her hometown, the pair had gone through ups and down together until one fateful night, she’d been phoned by the hospital to receive the worst possible.

The man that she loved had died, due to a drunken car accident.

What followed were months of pure torture which lead to her vowing never to be vulnerable to any man up until she met Dominik, and while everything he said made sense — the fear of losing him was prominent and in full strength, especially in this moment.

__

The following weeks were torment for her, he would clearly avoid speaking to her during the media shoots, preferring to silently work instead of talking – and each time she sought him out, he’d either make up an excuse or avoid her, or even worse, flat out flirt with the female interns in front of her spurring a very aching covetousness inside of her, she tried to ignore it, she really did yet it was too much to handle and on one evening, as training concluded, an unlikely figure approached her.

" You alright love? " Trent asks her, clearly concerned by her state.

She offers him a weak smile and nods, yet he doesn’t relent, raising a brow at her, she sighs and shakes her head. " No "

Trent chuckles, " I’m assuming it’s got something to do with him "

Her head shot up quickly, " Huh? " she murmurs.

" Love, we may be a bit dumb sometimes but we aren’t that dumb " Trent laughs before adding on, " It’s not that discreet between the two of you "

She lets out a soft sigh, " Well I blew it, and he’s probably with someone else "

Trent raised a brow, she really thought he had moved on which was far from the truth, if any thing he was a mess as he’d called Trent the other night completely inebriated and rambling about her — " What if he isn’t? would you try to win him back? "

She nods slowly, " I love him, but I guess my past got in the way "

Trent nods in understanding, he’d been the only one who was aware of her trauma and had sworn to secrecy ever since. " Love, I think you need to stop letting your past be an excuse, he really loves you "

She nods, " So do I "

Trent grew silent before his eyes light up, " I have an idea " he states.

" What? " She frowns in confusion.

Trent beams, " I’ll convince him to go on a blind date, the blind date being you "

" You think he’ll accept it? " She wonders.

Trent scoffs, " He’ll accept it, don’t worry "

And indeed true to his word, he had sent her the coordinates of the restaurant for her to drive there — she’d gotten ready, wearing her brand new dress, curled her hair to perfection, a soft layer of make up adorning her features – she slips her shoes on and is off to the restaurant.

After a thirty minute drive, she was finally there – she parked her car, then stepped out with her purse in hand; she walked inside the restaurant, and was lead to the reserved table Trent made, with each step she felt the nerves build up until her eyes fell on him.

He was dressed in an all black suit which complimented him quite well, when his eyes fell on her, they softened for a moment before he looked away causing her to frown, the waiter interrupted the moment, " We are here miss "

She nods in gratitude then sits down across from him, a brief wave of silence passes them before he said, " You look incredible "

She blushes, " So do you! "

Another wave of silence falls over them before he said, " Baba, can we talk? "

She nods, " We should "

He inhales then exhales before he said, " You know, this whole time, I couldn’t stop thinking about you, I tried to let you go baba, I really tried but I can’t, I love you "

She blinks away the tears away then replies to him, " I love you too Domi, I … I am ready to tell you about my reasons "

" Baba, you don’t have to " He states with a soft tone.

" No, I want to " She smiled softly before letting out a soft breath, " Before I met you, before I came to Liverpool I um … I was working for a local team in my hometown, and I fell in love with one of the players, we had such a whirlwind romance, and I thought he was the one until … fate took him away from me, five years into our relationship "

" What happened? " He asked, both confused and concerned.

" He was killed by a drunk driver, and um … it sent me on a tornado of emotions that lead me into becoming closed off, it’s why I refused to admit what we had, but I can’t deny it " She said, " Dominik, I want this … I want us back, I want to be your official girlfriend "

He smiled widely, " Baba " he reaches over to grab her hand, " I love you too "

He leans over to press a soft kiss to her lips causing her to smile, " So I guess this means we are official " she said.

" We are " He grins.

[luveline]

Oh my gosh Zombie!steve holds a special place in my heart. Please write more for this Drabble series

thank you for reading!! steve zombie!au —you and steve reunite after a morning apart. 1k, fem!reader

Steve's sitting by the fire unawares when you drape the spare blanket over his shoulders. His hair, wet from a quick scrub in the stream, has soaked the collar of his shirt. The blanket is a welcome warmth, your doting moreso. 

He puts his makeshift bookmark between the pages of his book and follows your face as you sit with him. The apocalypse and subsequent lack of movies has turned him into a bookworm through necessity. He worries about things too much if he has nothing to do, and lately that's always the case. 

"Hello," you say, crossing your legs. Your knee bumps into his. "Sorry. Hey. What chapter are you on?" 

He flips the pages until he finds the chapter header. "Chapter twenty five." 

"You're getting quick," you say. 

It's weird to him that after so many confessions, days spent in one another's arms, nights laying between each other's thighs, you still hesitate sometimes before touching him. You know how much he loves you, and you waver. 

"We could start reading them together again."

"I go too fast." Your eyes widen in recognition. "But you're quicker now." 

He doesn't mind missing the last few lines of each page if it means you'll lean your head against his arm for a couple of hours every night. Your breath warms his collarbones. Your cheek soft and smushed to his rigid shoulder. 

"Way quicker." 

He thinks you're beautiful. It might be hurtful to say you aren't everyone's type, and it's not that he felt he had to warm to you before you became his type or anything, but you have something about you that he loves. Maybe it's purely the way you smile at him, that silly devotion poorly smothered (that he hopes you'd find reflected by him), or maybe it's your eyes. Maybe it's the way you speak to him, half the time like you're worried he won't talk back, and the other half like you're the same person thinking all the same things. He's hungry for every thought you have. 

Beautiful, and he loves you. Steve couldn't be more sure about it, and everyday it gets worse. He wonders if it'll ever stop, or if one day he's going to wake up next to you and choke on air, astounded by the chances of it all. How did you manage to find him? What luck was it of his to get to keep you despite his bad behaviour? He knows he was never as kind as he should've been to start with.

He looks at you and he thinks, Fuck, she's pretty. 

Steve tosses his book down into the packed dirt and just stares at you. You look back unabashed for a handful of seconds he savours. 

"Do I have something on my face?" you ask. 

"No," he murmurs. "You're just beautiful." 

Your eyebrows thread together at the starts, a wrinkle creasing the skin between them. You don't believe him, your lips puckering into a small frown.

"Why do you say stuff like that?" you ask. 

"I really, really think it's true. That's why. I can't not look at you without thinking about it. Even when we're dirty and starving and smell like hot garbage," he says, shrugging gently. "You're beautiful." 

"You've been reading too many romance books."

"I get that it sounds weird," he says. "Doesn't make it less true. You're beautiful." 

"That's enough," you say with a grin. "Stop. If Eddie hears you saying that he'll make fun of you forever." 

Steve gives you a fake shove. "Sorry, I'm confessing my love and the first thing you bring up is my arch nemesis?" 

You wince though he's only kidding, more than aware of his Eddie Munson related jealousy. You both talk about everything without punches pulled these days, and you've assured him he's the only one for you, but he'd quite like to hear it again. 

"Sorry, that's my bad," you say, shuffling closer to him. You put your arm behind his back and kiss his shoulder, warmth unfurling from the contact despite the shirt and blanket between it. "I think you're handsome, too, but you know that. Beside the fact that I'd never really been naked in front of someone before, those early days were torture for me 'cus I thought you were, like, the handsomest guy I went to school with." 

"Just school?" 

"No," you mumble, crossing your free arm over his stomach, nestling yourself under his arm. "Handsomest guy ever." 

He dips his head to touch his nose to the top of your head. 

"I love you," you say, scrunching his shirt in your hand. 

"Yeah, I love you, too. How was work?" 

"Bah. How was your day off?" 

Steve likes getting time off at camp, but it's pointless when you're not off with him. "Wasted. Missed you stupid, helped out with the kids at lunch anyways, spent the rest of it on that shitty book." 

"It's no good?" you ask. 

He loves your voice. It shoots through him like a spark, your genuine, lilting concern. 

"Shit. I don't think I wanna finish it."

"Skip to the end and go get a new one," you suggest. 

He closes his eyes and breathes in the smoky air of the campsite. You have this effect on him —of many— where you can quieten a hectic place. You sit down next to him and suddenly he's not sitting a ways off from the fire in the middle of the Michigan woodland, he's with you. Plain and simple. 

"I will." 

"Maybe I can help you vet some? Make sure you get one you enjoy this time. Or we can trade some of our credits for a new pack of cards. I'll teach you how to play speed."

"After you tricked me into being bad at gin rummy? Nah, you're okay." 

You force his head up as you lift your own, pinning him with your tender gaze. "You like losing. You do, you always say I have to kiss it better." 

He's a simple man. A kiss from his girl is all he needs. "Maybe we should get a pack of cards," he says smugly. 

You shake your head at him, but you're beaming. 

[bolshefem]

if you think people are more empathetic to women than men you are straight up fucking delusional. men have proved themself almost INCAPABLE of empathy for women, and this is statistically and empirically supported. they are incapable of understanding that women have an internal life, do not see us as humans with emotions who exist external to them. look at the comments on a post of a man talking about self harm vs a woman. "men's mental health matters too🥺" "I'm proud of you" vs "attention whore" "sideways for attention downwards for results" "ugly bitch trying to get sympathy"

this is what happens for ANYTHING regarding sexual assault, mental health, suffering, trauma.

or an overweight man vs woman "keep your head up king👑" "you got this bro, I believe in you" "these women don't deserve you." (like totally unprompted not discussing relationships) Or often no comments on his weight at all if he's not talking about it. For a woman, no matter WHAT she is posting about "landwhale" "starve yourself" "put down the burger" "kys fat b*tch" and the most vile and insanely cruel comments The amount of threads and forums dedicated to eviscerating degrading and insulting overweight women on places like lolcow and kiwi farms and just social media in general and I genuinely have never seen one for a man. Same thing with things like facial deformities, the comments are unbelievably cruel to these women.

the level of vitriol is not even remotely comparable, and I don't even think it's mostly a double standard. I think they just lack the capacity to feel empathy towards women and perceive them as human and capable of feeling pain. Things are solely perceived in how they relate to them and thought to be performances for men. Women exist to serve them and if they don't give them a boner they don't deserve to be alive. If something, no matter how innocuous, pisses them off in the slightest they don't have a single qualm because they just don't view them as real people and full human beings with internal lives. women having emotions is inherently manipulative, anything they say or do is a performance for men. And like look at things such as the gender credibility gap https://www.tedxmilehigh.com/gender-credibility-gap/ Women are systematically less believed as witnesses in a courtroom, reporters, academic authorities, in claims of sexual assault, discrimination, or harassment.*

Women's reports of pain symptoms are less likely to be believed by doctors, and they are staggering more likely to not receive proper medication, go undiagnosed and untreated. Women are 32% more likely to die post-op if their surgeon is a man. "Womens' pain not taken as seriously as mens' pain. Researchers found that when male and female patients expressed the same amount of pain, observers viewed female patients' pain as less intense "(sciencedaily.com/releases/2021/04/210406164124.htm) "Nearly three-quarters of cases where a disease primarily affects one gender, the so-called “men's diseases” are overfunded, while the “women's diseases” are dramatically underfunded."

https://www.concernusa.org/story/gender-bias-in-healthcare/ https://www.washingtonpost.com/wellness/interactive/2022/women-pain-gender-bias-doctors/ https://www.medicalnewstoday.com/articles/gender-bias-in-medical-diagnosis#how-does-it-affect-diagnosis https://www.health.harvard.edu/blog/women-and-pain-disparities-in-experience-and-treatment-2017100912562 I could literally go on on this topic forever. The gender empathy gap is a form of epistemic violence against women.

* "Suicidal behaviour and self-harm in women can be viewed by family, health professionals and the community as attention-seeking, manipulative and non-serious, which can negatively influence how young women are treated." (Curtis, 2016) *Men with overweight tend to be perceived as wise or experienced, while women's credibility tends to decrease with excess weight... women seem to experience higher levels of weight stigmatization than men, even at lower levels of excess weight (Flint et al., 2016)

*Women are at greater risk for weight/height discrimination than men (Puhl et al, 2008)

*so many papers on this but "Across the board, women are perceived to be less credible than men. Especially women’s testimonies of rape and sexual harassment are widely trivialized and disregarded, even though reports of sexual abuse are not more likely to be false than reports of other crimes" (Schreurs, 2020) more like Mack, 1993

[rafedaddy01]

Rafe Cameron fic request.

Fluff!Rafe when he comes to drop her bag off at work for the first time and all the co-workers are surprised how hot he is. The reader is a bit shy and is a goody two shoes and everyone is surprised that she has a boyfriend. P.S the workplace is male orientated and reader is an administrator.

A/n: I absolutely loved this idea!! P.s. I added my own twist, I hope that’s okay 💙💙

You were never the type to brag about your lifestyle. Never the type to flaunt around like some people.

Your job was tough, and working around men all day was not easy.

Especially when they always belittled you as a good two shoes.

“Here”

You read Rafes message as a smile spread on your face.

You rushed out your office and headed to the elevators just in time as it dinged and the doors opened to your beautiful man standing there with your Chanel bag.

“For you madam” he did a little bow before extending the bag which you took with a shy look on your face.

He walked up and wrapped his arms around your waist before pulling you in a kissing you.

It was deep and passionate and too quick.

“Look like we got an audience” he wiggled his eyebrows at you as you look back at your workplace.

The men quickly turned around to busy themselves, but you could see the smirks on their faces.

Your cheeks flushed as you felt embarrassed for getting caught up in your boyfriends embrace.

“Wanna give them something to look at. Or listen too?” Rafes hot breath against your neck brought you back to face him.

“Rafe.. we shouldn’t.”

He winked at you as he lead the both of you to your office and shut the door before closing the blinds.

You sat on the edge of you desk and he turned around before striding over to you.

“Missed you baby” he wrapped his arms around your neck and thread his finger through your hair at the back of your head before leaning down to kiss your waiting lips.

You moaned against his mouth and felt his lips tilt up in a smirk.

He moved his mouth to your neck and started sucking as you moaned a little louder.

“Just like that. Let them know who you belong too, don’t be shy” he bit your shoulder and you whimpered.

“Rafe”

He pushed your body down on the desk as he knelt and bunched up your skirt.

“Just a taste, that’s all I want”

Before you could protest, which you really didn’t want to, he hooked your panties and stuck his tongue out to lick a stripe of your arousal.

“Always so fucking sweet baby” he groaned as you spread wider for him, wrapping your manicured nails into his hair and tugging him closer. “Please” you begged as your back arched.

He wasted no time, diving in like a starved man and licking every ounce of your beautiful, puffy cunt. All his.

You came with a low shriek and squeal as he helped you through your high.

Before you could gather breath he dove in again, pressing a thumb to your clit.

“Rafe! I-I can’t” you whined ad he rubbed and licked ferociously.

“You will” his voice was demanding and it had you weaker than you already were.

Before you knew it he slammed two fingers in and curved just right so you were screaming your second release.

Let’s just say the men in the office never quested you as a innocent little goody two shoes again.

@f4ll-for-you @v21sstuff @rafeysworldim19 @baby19sthings @eventualoptimism @drewstarkeysbae @sevenwivesofrafecameron @rxfecameronsslut @findapenny @r1vrsefx @spencerreidsrealgf

[wutheringmights]

I finished rereading The Song of the Lioness quartet by Tamora Pierce a couple of days back. I already talked about the first book in a post that garnered more attention than it deserved. I guess we were all happily reminiscing about the menstruation scenes together, or Tortall fans are so starved for content they (we) will reblog anything.(Understandable. I too am starved for a thriving Tortall fandom.)

I'm too lazy to make separate posts about each book, so we're just going to do a mega post covering the second, third, and fourth book.

Unlike last time, I will be giving a little criticism to this series. I still love it endlessly, but there were a few things about the prose I thought was interesting that I want to talk about a bit.

So, without further ado~

In the Hand of the Goddess

I think this one is my favorite one, despite how rushed the plot it. It contains all of my favorite plot points, like awkward romances with George and Jon, attending knight lessons, and a little summer war. Fun stuff.

But it definitely feels rushed. I really wish someone told Pierce to make this a 12 book series, expanding on Alanna's years at the castle. It would have gone so far to better develop the romances and the friendships in these books.

I am fascinated by what Pierce chose to skim over. Characters would die or kiss for the first time off screen, with the prose resuming with Alanna reacting to it. It demonstrates an understanding of character work that I personally adore and try to emulate in my own writing-- the real bones of a story being in how characters respond to fantastic events as opposed to the fantastic events themselves.

Also, the whole veil spell Roger cast in objectively stupid, and I mean that in the most affectionate way possible. You're telling me that Roger used magic to make Alanna lose interest in doing anything about the obviously evil things he was doing? That's fucking hilarious. You know an editor came back to Pierce and asked her to come up with a reason why Alanna wasn't just going to spring into action at the first sign of Roger trying to kill her, only for Pierce to come up with this. It's so silly. I love it.

Woman Who Rides Like A Man

Did this book age poorly? Yes, but not as badly as I remembered. That's not a stirring defense, and it's really not meant to be.

The Bahzir are a mess of Orientalism, and Pierce definitely deserves criticism for not only the way she wrote them but for the ways in which she frames their cultural practices as something that needs to be fixed. Having Alanna want to force them to change their culture to suit her beliefs is not a great look for both the character and the writer. And that's not even getting into the whole assimilation plotline.

But I did enjoy Pierce's attempts to expand on the definition of womanhood, especially as a part of Alanna learning to embrace femininity. There is this running thread in these last two books of Alanna learning about all the different ways to be a woman and choosing for herself what her gender means to her. It's not done particularly well, and anyone looking for a revolutionary examination of gender roles and identity is going to be sorely disappointed. But there's an attempt here that I can't help but appreciate.

This book is also where Pierce starts to slow the plot down, which lends it to having the most reasonable pacing out of the bunch. That being said, it's also the book where the lack of development for a bunch of the side characters start to hurt. I really wish Gary or Raoul joined Alanna in the desert. Raoul gets his moment in the sun with the Protector of the Small books, but Gary remains largely forgettable. In fact, I spent this entire read-through convinced this man dies at the end of the last book, if only because I can't remember where he appears in any of the other books.

Lioness Rampant

This book somehow has the improved pacing of the third book while still feeling rushed. The quest for the Dominion Jewel really should have been it's own book, if only to give Thayet and Buri more room for development. Thayet in particular really needs her moment to shine, especially when she continues to be an important character in the other series.

But do you know who did get a lot of screen time? Liam.

Remembered shit about this guy before going into this book. I could only vaguely recalled disliking him as a kid, but not as much as I venomously hated Jon. (Speaking of which-- I love the way this man is realistically shitty. Him getting dumped by Alanna is always my favorite scene.) But Liam? Fuck that guy. Holy shit. I give full applause to Pierce for portraying the important milestones every girl goes through growing up, which includes having a situationship that is so shitty that it becomes essential character development.

Roger's return feels very... cheesy? I think Alex should have stepped up to be the final villain on the story. Unlike Roger, Alex was Alanna's friend. They have history. The betrayal would have imbued that final fight with so many more emotions than it ultimately had. I also would have liked Alanna to have at least meaningfully talked to Alex sometime before the climax.

Honestly, it's impressive how reactive Alanna is as a character in the last half of the book. She doesn't seek out how to stop Roger's plan, or fix Thom, or anything. Other characters make plans and she just... waits for something to go wrong.

That being said, by virtue of Alanna's relationships with George, Liam, and Jon all happening sometime in this plot, this book becomes a good place to look to get the full berth of how Pierce handles romances. Which, I love her approach. The romances are never over the top or, for lack of a better word, too romantic. It's very down to earth, with characters dating, marrying, or breaking up for realistic reasons.

Jon and Alanna were friends who broke up because they had different life plans. Liam and Alanna broke up for having fundamentally different values. As much as I bitch about how shitty Jon and Liam are, they're not cartoonishly evil. They're just a little shitty the way most of your exes will be. Jon and Liam are men could find love with someone else. They just aren't suited for Alanna.

Meanwhile, the most romantic things George does are wait for her and be supportive. He doesn't fight or get territorial. He makes his feelings clear, then waits for Alanna's cues. Alanna definitely loves him, but she ends up with him in the end because their lifestyles and core beliefs meld together. There's no grand romantic gesture or whirlwind affairs. They are just a good pair.

I have read stories with far heavier focuses on romance, and none of those couples feel as perfect as Alanna and George. Those stories prioritize all the gooey moments over showing why the main couple should get together. For how little romantic interactions they have, you believe these two could have a successful marriage. Perfect stuff.

---

Over all, I really enjoyed rereading these books. For all my griping, I still love the story. I love Alanna. She's a character who is fundamental to my soul. No matter where I am in life, I will always want to open these books and find her again, to walk back into Tortall and join her on her quest to be a lady knight.

My copies of the series come with forewards from a previous edition. In one of them, Pierce wrote that this series started off as an adult fantasy story that was much darker and edgier. I need to know what that story looks like, what happened in it. Pierce can claim as she wants that she hardly remembers what it looks like, but I refuse to believe that. Release the unedited first draft, Pierce. I am begging you.