#so she carries both of them with her in spirit

[stardust-swan]

What Message Do Moroccan Djinns Have for You?

Pick a picture: 1, 2, 3

This tarot reading is inspired by the Big 3 female djinns (genies) in the Moroccan pantheon. These are general readings. As most people aren't familiar with the Moroccan Pantheon, brief descriptions of each djinn are provided below.

Pile 1: Lalla Aisha 🖤

Lalla Aisha is a djinn who is beautiful, but terrifying. Her story is one often told as a horror story in Morocco. She normally manifests as a beautiful woman in a flowing kaftan - why does her kaftan flow? To hide that her feet are cloven. She can be found lingering near bodies of water after dark, where she may drown men who offend her, or reward those who please her (she may alternatively render a man who displeases her impotent while rewarding ones who please her with supernaturally good sexual prowess). She is a man-eater both literally and figuratively. According to one legend, she is Astarte, reduced to roaming the Earth after her temples were shut; enlisting her own devotees and making her own sacrifices. She can bring madness, miscarriages, illness and death; but she can also bring good health, abundance, fertility and luck. She is simultaneously cruel and benevolent. A woman who is very powerful and demanding; enchanting but unsettling.

What Message Does Lalla Aisha Have for You?

Lalla Aisha is ready to welcome you into her world of beauty and allure, but the path is not without its difficulties.

I get the feeling you're carrying too many burdens. Your own responsibilities and other people's expectations are weighing you down. Aisha Qandisha is a she-demon who does what she wants; like her you need to stop burdening yourself with things that don't serve you. Say no to things that drain you or that simply don't do anything for you.

Something in your life has stagnated. Whether that's a project you're struggling to finish, a relationship that's gone stale (or a sudden breakup or ghosting that left little closure), or finances stagnating as money comes in and then gets immediately spent on bills, you feel stuck. Well, if one thing is true about Lalla Aisha is that she's a go-getter; she will not let anything stop her. If she wants a man she'll make him obsess over her until he's almost mad with thoughts of her. If she wants a particular person to be her devotee she will personally recruit them. If she wants a sacrifice, she has no qualms about doing it herself. Her presence is an indication you need to chop some dead wood and close this chapter.

Although she has a fearsome reputation, she brings great blessings to those who she favours. And you, dear reader, are one of those lucky few. I'm getting a sense that she is bestowing domestic happiness specifically on you. In your future is a household full of abundance, home comforts, and harmony. Reunions and family gatherings will be many. Long-term relationships will be blissful and stable, perfect for bringing children into if you so wish (she also aides with fertility). You will feel content and positive, and those around you will feel your happiness radiating from you.

Advice: Wear black and/or red, take walks in the morning air, wear henna, burn benzoin, go for a swim, eat figs, tie ribbons to trees and make a wish to her (bring an offering to the tree if she fulfils your request).

Pile 2: Lalla Mira 💛

Lalla Mira is a djinn who is associated with fertility, marriage, healing, abundance, and especially love. She also has psychic gifts and is summoned to foretell the future via a spirit medium who she takes possession of. She has been compared to Aphrodite as they preside over similar areas, but unlike Aphrodite she tends to be quite volatile; assertive, aggressive, extremely demanding, and jealous. She engages in relations with human men and if someone she has her eye on is already married... She makes him ask for permission to continue relations with his own wife. However, she is kind to her own devotees (who she may aggressively pursue); healing infertility, finding spouses for them, and preventing illness. Her devotees credit her with their good health, happiness, and the existence of their families. This is a djinn who is incredibly kind to those she favours, but ruinous to those who displease her.

What Message Does Lalla Mira Have for You?

You've been working HARD. Maybe you've just sown the seeds, or maybe those seeds have already grown up into a lush garden. She is telling you that your hard work WILL have results. But she also wants you to let go of perfectionism, because obsessing over small details is making you feel frustrated or stagnated. Make sure you're focusing on the things that bring you joy, instead of fear of failure or the need for every detail to be perfect stealing your happiness. Progress is more important than perfection.

My reading of your future with Lalla Mira was (luckily for you) favourable. She is bringing you happiness, especially in social areas. You will spend time with friends, go on on more dates and get invited to more events. She wants you to have FUN, to connect to your inner child and to embrace what gives you joy, even if it's something you think of as frivolous or juvenile. I feel her encouraging you to experiment with your style - this is a good time to get the drastic haircut you've been wondering about, to update your wardrobe, to experiment with what colours look best on you, etc. Romance is looking good. If you have a secret crush, this is the time to signify you're interested in something more. If you don't have a crush, her presence signals you have a secret admirer. If you're in a relationship, don't be afraid to be romantic and plan dates and quality time - her presence may even foretell an engagement, wedding or pregnancy. Health will be good; and your intuition will become sharper as some of her physic abilities rub off on you.

Advice: Wear orange and/or yellow, dance (especially belly dance or Moroccan folkloric dances), wear henna, take strolls in the afternoon, bathe regularly and be very thorough in your baths (exfoliate when you need to and clean every inch of skin), light candles and incense, spend times around bodies of water like springs, wells and rivers.

Pile 3: Lalla Malika 💜

Lalla Malika is technically a princess as she's the daughter of a King, but her role is that of a Queen. She is a djinn of prosperity, helping her followers gain money, social status, professional success, and success in legal matters. As a very wealthy princess, she's associated with all things considered luxurious - fine perfume, silk kaftans with gold embroidery, gold jewellery, premium incense, beautiful decor, intricate henna (Aisha and Mira also request henna but their designs aren't as detailed or feminine), cosmetics, and delicious chocolates, sweets and pastries. Ritual ceremonies for her look like very lavish engagement parties. Unlike her peers Aisha and Mira, Malika is much gentler despite being just as powerful. If Aisha and Mira set their sights on a man, they will cause him to obsess over them, sometimes to the point of madness, whereas Malika seduces men by chatting to them and calmly stating her desire. When Aisha and Mira want to recruit a devotee, they may make their presence known by attacking or possessing the person, whereas Malika gently reveals herself through dreams, pleasant scents, laughter and tickling. When Aisha and Mira feel wronged they lash out, causing illness, miscarriage, paralysis, or even death, whereas Malika chooses not to attack but withdraws her presence from the situation instead. She is famous for her cheerful spirit, bringing joy and laughter wherever she goes. This is a djinn who is powerful both in status and magical ability, but yet is also soft, joyful, and friendly to all.

What Message Does Lalla Malika Have for You?

There's a sense of mental distress here. Specifically of high stress levels, anxiety or burnout, to the point that you are or will neglect your own needs. Lalla Malika is all about self-care, beautification routines, pleasure and indulgence, so the message here is very clear: you need to indulge yourself! Do what you have to do to make some time for yourself, whether that's dealing out responsibilities you've been burdened with more fairly, working on better time management, asking for help with a task that's overwhelming, etc. And then make sure to treat yourself! Take a long bath or shower complete with a face mask and your most deliciously scented soap and lotion, curl up with a good book or movie and a mug of hot chocolate, partake in your hobbies, or do anything else that brings you joy. Now is the time to pause and recalibrate.

You are in a period of transition, in a positive way - you are overcoming hardship and healing. Your problems will settle down and things will become easier to deal with. There may very well be travel in your future - one of the cards I selected has an association with travel, journeys and vacations, and Lalla Malika herself is associated with travel - she's a flying djinn who often descends from heaven to Earth, and her devotees are often said to be people who travel by airplane.

She is here to make sure you don't neglect your needs, whether emotional or physical. She asks you to consider how you can rest and care for yourself and is welcoming you into her world of abundance and happiness. People who have Malika on their side will flourish in social situations, find they have more money to spend, and will succeed professionally.

Malika's presence is a sure sign you're manifesting luxury and abundance. A life of comfort is coming to you, from every area from fine wine and gourmet chocolates, to good investments and advantages at work. You will cultivate a wide range of skills, hobbies and knowledge that will make you enchant people and make friends easily. You'll also be seen as more beautiful and alluring, both because your confidence will increase and because Malika's dedication to beautification rituals will rub off on you. She wants you to live the high life.

Advice: Wear purple, green or pink, wear perfume, burn incense and purple candles, indulge in sweets, chocolates, and pastries without guilt, dress up nice just because (wear jewellery/makeup if you want too), use creams, oils and lotions regularly, experiment with your style or hair (if you've been wondering about cutting or dying it this is your sign), make sure your wardrobe is organised, learn about business, law or a foreign language/culture, wear intricate henna designs, use your best manners even to people who are rude.

[fr0stf4ll]

A court of Shadows and Moonlight - Part 6

paring; Azriel x reader

summary; In the wake of looming war and changing traditions, a gifted healer returns to the Night Court after centuries of wandering the continents. Tasked with stepping into Madja’s legendary role, she must guide reluctant healers, soothe wounded warriors, and face the entrenched prejudice of Illyrian leaders. But as she mends torn wings and broken spirits, an unexpected bond awakens between her and the Night Court’s enigmatic Spymaster. With rivalries simmering and a dangerous threat looming on the horizon, she must reconcile duty and desire, learning that true healing can extend beyond flesh and bone—if she dares to embrace the light hidden among the shadows.

word count ; 9k (long ass chapter lol)

Trigger warning; //

notes; Hello my loves <3 HAPPY NEW YEAR woohooo!!! Sorry for not posting these last few days, but they’ve been looong with all the celebrations. Plus, I had to travel back to my place, and it took forever. So today, you’ll not only get part 6, but also part 7 ;) (it should be up in the next few minutes). This chapter was actually pretty hard for me to write because I had doubts about where to take the story or if I should give more or fewer clues about Y/N’s background. Either way, don’t hesitate to comment because even if I don’t reply to all of you, I definitely read them, and I loveeee getting those notifications. Well, see you in a few minutes for part 7 lol <3

Link; Part 5 or Part 7

----

Late afternoon shadows stretched across Velaris as you and Cassian stepped off the bridge leading into the quieter district near the clinic. Both of you were weary—three days in Illyria had taxed your energy, even if the journey home was less fraught than the work you’d done in the camps. Your cloak felt heavier than usual, boots scuffing softly on the cobblestones as you approached the modest building that housed the clinic’s entrance and your apartment above it.

Cassian’s shoulders slumped a little, wings drooping as he glanced at you. “We made it,” he said, voice carrying a note of relief. “Another successful adventure survived.” His smile was a bit lopsided, but genuine.

You managed a small chuckle, rolling your stiff shoulders. “A success, I hope,” you answered quietly. “At least some of them seemed open to new methods.”

He nodded, raking a hand through his hair. “They’ll never admit it, but they’ll use what you taught them. You left an impression, Y/N.”

The simple honesty in his tone warmed you. The clinic door beckoned, safety and rest just inside. You paused at the threshold, turning to face him. “Thank you for coming with me,” you said softly. “I know you had other duties, but I’m grateful you lent your presence—and, frankly, your muscle—to ensure no one gave me too hard a time.”

Cassian shrugged, easy humor returning for a moment. “Any excuse to keep the Illyrians in line.” He sobered a fraction, studying you with quiet sincerity. “I’m glad I could help.”

A silence fell, not uncomfortable but weighted with the fatigue of the journey. At length, Cassian cleared his throat, as if remembering something. “Oh, right,” he said, seeming almost amused by whatever he’d forgotten. “Before I go—Rhys asked me to pass along an invitation. He’d like you to join him, Feyre, and a few others for dinner tomorrow night at their townhouse in Velaris. It’s a sort of… well, I guess a welcome dinner now that you’re truly back in the Night Court.”

Your eyes widened in surprise and a spark of gratitude lit behind them. “Dinner?” you repeated, a bit taken aback. “That’s… an honor. I—” You hesitated, a hundred questions floating to your mind. You weren’t sure what one normally did when invited to the High Lord’s home for a meal. “Should I bring anything?” you asked, half-wondering if a gift or some rare herbs might be customary.

Cassian’s grin turned playful. “Bring yourself,” he said simply. “That’s all they’ll want. Trust me, Rhys and Feyre don’t stand on ceremony with friends. Consider it an evening to relax, maybe talk about what’s next.” His gaze flicked over the clinic’s door, then back to you, voice softening. “You deserve a good meal and a bit of comfort after the work you’ve done.”

Touched by his words, you nodded. “All right,” you agreed. “I’ll be there.”

“Perfect.” He exhaled, one corner of his mouth lifting. “Now, I’d better let you rest. I think we’ve both earned a good night’s sleep.”

A small laugh escaped you. “Absolutely,” you said, resting a hand on the door’s latch. “Sleep well, Cassian.”

He gave you a salute that was half-mocking, half-genuine, wings fluttering as he turned away and headed down the street. You watched him go for a moment, then slipped inside the clinic, fatigue tugging at your limbs. Tomorrow, you would face the High Lord’s table, and perhaps some quieter conversations that might shape the next phase of your return.

For now, rest called, and you followed it gratefully up the stairs to your apartment, thoughts drifting between memories of Illyria’s harsh mountains and the warm promise of dinner among unlikely allies.

Back inside the familiar confines of the clinic, you paused just inside the door, drawing in the scents of linen and dried herbs that always lingered in the halls. Your joints ached a bit from the journey, but routine called, and you answered it. Before heading upstairs to your apartment, you moved through the quiet corridors to the records room. A low lamp flickered there, its glow soft against the shelves.

You ran your fingertips along the ledgers, pulling out the records from the past three days. Your eyes skimmed the entries, scanning notes that Elira and the other healers had left. No major emergencies, you read with relief—only a few minor wounds, a mild fever, the usual aches and pains. The neat handwriting confirmed that Elira had continued training the younger healers as planned. She’d even left a brief note: All went well. The younger ones are picking up the new bandaging technique quickly.

A small smile touched your lips. Good. Progress, even in your absence.

Satisfied that the clinic had fared well without you, you tucked the ledger back into place and turned toward the stairs. The promise of rest beckoned, and you ascended quietly, passing familiar sconces that flickered in the gentle air currents. Upstairs, your apartment welcomed you with its calm silence. You shrugged off your cloak, letting it fall over a chair, and considered the state of your legs and back. A warm bath—yes, that would be perfect.

You crossed to the small bathroom, lighting a few candles along the way. The soft glow gilded the tiled walls and the simple, claw-footed tub. Setting the faucet, you allowed steaming water to pour in, scenting it with a bit of lavender oil you kept for moments like these. As the tub filled and steam rose, you breathed deeply, letting the tension roll off your shoulders.

So much had happened—Illyria, the uncertain dynamics in the Night Court’s inner circle, and tomorrow, a dinner invitation from the High Lord himself. But for now, here, in this private sanctuary, you could let all that fade. Stripping out of your travel-stained clothes, you sank into the bath, the warm water cradling your tired muscles. The quiet of the evening settled over you, and the lavender-soaked steam eased the lingering edges of worry.

Tomorrow would bring its own challenges and discoveries. Tonight, you granted yourself peace.

—————

When evening arrived, you found yourself walking through Velaris’s softly lit streets, a bundle of carefully chosen flowers nestled in the crook of your arm. You’d spent much of the day working at the clinic as usual, but your mind had drifted often to the upcoming dinner. Now, wearing a simple but neat outfit—something presentable without being ostentatious—you followed the directions Cassian had given you, making your way toward the High Lord and High Lady’s townhouse.

Your heart fluttered with a mix of anticipation and nerves. It wasn’t as if you were heading into battle, but meeting them on such personal terms, in their private home, was a new threshold. You hadn’t seen Azriel since returning from Illyria, and though he might be present, you tried not to focus on that too much. This evening wasn’t about your confused feelings or the golden thread that tugged quietly at your awareness. It was about respect, camaraderie, and, hopefully, laughter over good food.

Rounding a corner, you came upon the district where the townhouse stood. The soft glow of streetlamps illuminated quiet lanes, and music drifted faintly from some distant party. Ahead, you spotted the house described to you—a graceful building of warm-colored stone and gently sloping roofs. It was large enough to accommodate their inner circle and guests, yet it didn’t loom or flaunt opulence. Instead, it exuded a gentle, welcoming aura.

Plants climbed trellises along the exterior, flowering vines weaving patterns around balconies and window frames. You caught the scent of night-blooming jasmine mingling with roses and citrus blossoms, an elegant tapestry of nature’s perfume draped over the home. It felt alive, this house—a place nurtured by caring hands. A place of growth and warmth.

Approaching the door, you paused to straighten your posture and smooth your clothes. The flowers you carried were modest and cheerful—nothing exotic or rare, just a vibrant mix of blooms from a local florist. You’d considered bringing wine, but after a moment’s reflection, you realized that whatever bottle you could afford would be outshone by the contents of their likely well-stocked cellar. Flowers, though, offered color, scent, and sincerity. That, you hoped, would be appreciated.

Exhaling slowly, you stepped forward, footfalls muffled by the ivy-softened walkway. The door’s brass knocker gleamed in the lamplight. You raised your free hand and knocked gently, heart fluttering once more. Perhaps it was silly to be nervous. You’d healed impossible wounds, steered conversations with stubborn Lords, and confronted your own uncertainties. You could handle a dinner invitation.

As you waited for someone to answer, you let your gaze drift along the eaves and sills. Lanterns dangled from hooks, their glass panels casting soft patterns of light and shadow across the entryway. Everything felt harmonious and attentive to detail—a reflection, perhaps, of the people who lived inside.

In a moment, you would be ushered in, welcomed as a friend or colleague rather than a mere visitor. The thought steadied you. The flowers shifted in your arms, and their gentle fragrance rose to meet you, a reminder that some gestures spoke volumes without words.

You were here, and you would face whatever the evening brought with an open heart.

The door swung open to reveal Feyre, her hair tumbling in soft waves over her shoulders, a gentle smile illuminating her features. She wore something elegant but not showy, a simple gown that played up her natural grace. When she saw you, her eyes lit even brighter, and she reached out, enfolding you in a warm, unexpected hug. It eased a little of the tension that had coiled in your chest.

“You’re here,” she said, voice calm and welcoming. “We’re so glad you could come.”

You offered her the bouquet, a mix of vivid blooms you’d chosen with care. Her eyes widened slightly, delighted. “They’re beautiful—thank you. I know a perfect spot for these.” She stepped back, holding the flowers with a careful tenderness, as if the gift mattered more than you’d dared hope.

She ushered you inside, and you slipped off your coat. Though it hadn’t snowed that day, a crisp chill still lingered in Velaris’s winter air, and the townhouse’s warmth wrapped around you like a soft cloak. Feyre guided you through a well-lit hallway into the living room, where conversation and laughter wove a gentle tapestry over the hush of the evening.

Rhysand rose from an armchair near the hearth to greet you, his violet eyes reflecting the lamplight. “Welcome,” he said, voice smooth and sincere. “Please, make yourself at home. You’ve already met Cassian and Azriel, but allow me to introduce the rest.”

Your gaze swept over the room. Cassian stood near the mantel, a glass of wine in hand, and as you glanced at him, he offered a lazy grin. Azriel was positioned a bit to the side, one arm resting along the back of a sofa. His bandages were gone, leaving faint lines of healing scars hidden beneath well-tailored clothing. He inclined his head softly when your eyes met, acknowledging your presence without fuss.

Seated near Azriel was a stunning blonde female—radiant and poised. Her beauty caught your attention immediately. Feyre noticed your look and added with a smile, “This is Mor—Morrigan. She’s family.”

Mor raised her glass in greeting, her hazel eyes warm with easy camaraderie. “Nice to finally meet you,” she said, voice touched with a hint of laughter, as if you’d arrived just in time for something pleasant.

Another figure caught your eye next: a smaller female, perched on the arm of a chair. Her silver eyes were sharp, ancient somehow, set into a refined face and framed by dark hair. This, you guessed, must be Amren. Your heart gave a small jolt of surprise—she was the one you’d heard described as powerful and formidable, yet she merely gave you a faint nod, assessing and cool, but not impolite.

Near Cassian stood another woman, her posture elegant, her features bearing a clear familial resemblance to Feyre. This must be Nesta—Feyre’s sister, the one who you’d heard was mated to Cassian. Her gaze was direct, but not hostile; perhaps curious, as if measuring who you were and why you’d been invited into their circle. You offered her a respectful smile, and she inclined her head in a subtle, regal manner.

The atmosphere was cordial, tinted with curiosity and acceptance. The fire crackled softly behind you, the scent of rich food and spices drifting in from another room. Feyre gestured to a free chair and you sat, the others resuming their conversations, weaving you naturally into their midst.

From the corner of your eye, you noticed Azriel shift slightly, watching the interplay of introductions. Morrigan turned to say something to him, drawing his attention away and giving you a moment to breathe, to take in that you were truly here, part of this intimate gathering.

“Dinner will be ready soon,” Feyre said, settling beside Rhysand, who’d gently clasped her hand. “Until then, relax. We’ve all been looking forward to getting to know you better.”

With those words and the warmth in the room, you felt some of your lingering tension melt away. You were among allies, in a house so beautifully tended, with plants climbing the windows and laughter in the air. It was easy, in that moment, to let yourself belong just a little more to this court you were slowly making home.

As you settled into a free chair near the hearth, the soft hum of conversation enveloped you. The group arranged themselves in a loose circle of armchairs and sofas, each face illuminated by the gentle firelight and the glow of simple lanterns placed around the room. Feyre had taken a seat beside Rhysand, her hand resting comfortably on his arm, while Cassian lounged near Nesta and Azriel, who remained quietly attentive. Mor perched gracefully on a low ottoman, crossing her long legs with casual elegance, and Amren claimed a small armchair as if it were a throne, her silver eyes keen but not hostile.

Feyre, ever the thoughtful hostess, spoke first. “You’ve just returned from Illyria, haven’t you?” Her voice was warm, genuine curiosity shining through. “Cassian told us a bit about your work there. How did it go?”

You drew a steady breath, aware of more eyes turning your way. “It was… challenging,” you admitted with a half-smile. “The healers were skilled but set in their ways. I managed to introduce a few new techniques. Some were skeptical, but I think a few caught on.”

Cassian gave a snort from his spot by the mantel. “Some of them were more than skeptical. Let’s say they were resistant until they saw the results.” His grin flashed, clearly proud of how you’d handled the situation.

Mor tilted her head, golden curls slipping over one shoulder. “Resistance is standard there,” she said, amused. “I’m impressed you made progress so quickly. Usually, it takes a century or two to change an Illyrian’s mind about anything.”

A ripple of light laughter flowed through the room. Even Nesta’s lips curved slightly, though her gaze remained measured. “They can be stubborn,” Nesta agreed quietly. “But if you got them to listen, you’ve accomplished a minor miracle.”

Azriel’s gaze flicked to you then, calm and thoughtful. “Any particular technique you introduced that might stand out for them?” he asked softly, voice barely above the crackle of the fire. There was interest, maybe respect, underlying the question.

You smoothed a hand over your knee, considering. “I combined some Dawn Court infusion methods with local herbs to create salves that heal burns and cuts faster. Also taught them how to more efficiently close a wound using layered bandaging, so it breathes and doesn’t trap infection.” Your shoulders relaxed as you spoke, talking shop easing the tension in your chest. “It’s subtle changes that matter over time.”

Rhysand inclined his head. “Subtle changes often pave the way for greater shifts. Even if they don’t appreciate it now, they’ll notice the difference when their warriors recover more swiftly.”

Amren’s silver eyes narrowed with interest. “You sound like someone who doesn’t fear digging into traditions,” she commented. “I suppose traveling the continents taught you that?”

A small smile tugged at your lips. “Exactly,” you said. “Every place I visited had a different approach to healing. By the time I returned, I carried a blend of knowledge. Challenging ingrained habits is never easy, but I believe if we show results, people adapt.”

As the conversation in the living room flowed around you, your attention drifted to Azriel, who’d been listening quietly while the others exchanged stories. Under the soft glow of the lamps, he seemed more at ease than the last time you’d seen him—no bandages, no pained tension in his posture. But you knew better than to assume all was perfect.

Leaning forward slightly, you caught his eye. “Azriel,” you began, your voice low enough that the others, caught up in their chatter, wouldn’t be distracted. “How are your injuries feeling now?”

He blinked, as if brought out of private thoughts. The edge of his mouth curved in a faint but genuine smile. “Much better,” he replied softly, voice smooth and controlled. “Your treatments worked wonders.”

A small surge of satisfaction warmed you. “I’m glad. I worried about scarring, especially on the wings, but it seems my methods held.”

Azriel inclined his head, shadows shifting imperceptibly at his shoulders. “They did. I owe you more gratitude than I can put into words.”

You waved a hand dismissively, though not unkindly. “No need for grand thanks. It’s what I do.” After a brief moment, you continued, “If you find yourself running low on ointment or salve—anything for lingering aches—you’re welcome to stop by the clinic. I’ll make sure you have what you need.”

His eyes flickered slightly, a hint of something unreadable passing there. “I’ll keep that in mind,” he said, voice still gentle. “Though I think it’s my turn to follow the rules this time. I won’t risk mixing anything that’s not from your hands.”

A quiet huff of amusement escaped you. “Good,” you said, pleased to note even the faintest humor there. “I’d prefer no more surprise remedies.”

He almost smiled fully at that, and you found yourself relieved—relieved that he’d healed, relieved that you could speak amicably, and relieved that, even amidst lingering complexities, you could offer him help without awkwardness.

Rhysand leaned forward slightly, his attention shifting fully to you. “Your skill with Illyrian wings is… notable,” he said, voice calm and curious. “It’s not often we see someone outside these mountains who can treat wing injuries with such precision. Where did you learn that?”

You swallowed, noticing how everyone’s gaze had angled your way. Azriel’s dark eyes were steady, Cassian’s brows lifted with mild interest, and Mor sipped her wine, listening quietly. “I owe much to Madja,” you said with a small shrug, trying to sound offhanded. “In my youth, under her tutelage, I spent time observing healings of various kinds. When I traveled to the Dawn Court, I worked extensively with peregryns. Between the two experiences, I pieced together techniques that transfer well.”

Rhysand nodded thoughtfully, and you sensed approval rather than suspicion. Feyre offered a gentle smile, as if pleased to understand more about your background. Azriel only gave the faintest tilt of his head, acknowledging your explanation.

Before anyone could delve deeper, the door opened softly, and you all turned. Elain stepped into the room, cradling a small bundle in her arms. The atmosphere shifted; the hush that followed her appearance was softer, lighter. She carried a baby—a tiny figure swaddled in soft linens. At the sight of you, Elain’s eyes went wide, a brief flicker of something like panic crossing her face. She managed a stiff, silent nod in your direction, acknowledging your presence.

She crossed the floor and carefully handed the baby to Feyre before moving to sit next to Azriel. The subtle tension that flared in the air didn’t go unnoticed by you. Seeing her choose a seat near Azriel struck a chord, stirring a quiet ache in your chest. The memory of misunderstandings and the complexities of their relationship hovered in your mind.

Feyre, noticing the moment, turned toward you with a warm, bright smile and the infant cradled securely in her arms. “This is Nyx,” she said softly, pride and love coloring every syllable. She stepped closer, letting you see the baby’s tiny, delicate features, the soft tufts of dark hair. “Our son.”

Your heart softened at the sight, and you drew a careful breath. “He’s beautiful,” you murmured, the tension easing slightly at the simple purity of this introduction. “Congratulations.”

Feyre’s eyes sparkled. “Thank you,” she said, rocking Nyx gently. After a moment, she glanced toward Elain and then back to you. “I should also introduce you to my sister, Elain. But I believe you’ve already met?”

Your eyes darted to Elain, who offered another small, tense smile. “Yes,” you confirmed quietly. “We’ve met.” The memory of the morning with Azriel’s injury still flickered in the back of your mind. Elain’s panic that day, her attempt to help gone wrong.

The baby cooed softly, wriggling a tiny arm free from the swaddle, and Feyre adjusted him tenderly. The simple, gentle act redirected your focus to something simpler and kinder. In that moment, held in Feyre’s arms, Nyx represented a softness and hope that contrasted sharply against the intricate bonds and tensions that wove this inner circle together.

You lifted your gaze, meeting Elain’s eyes briefly. She looked away, cheeks coloring faintly, before focusing on Azriel and the room’s gentle chatter. A hush of understanding passed—whatever had happened before still lingered, unspoken and unresolved, but for tonight, perhaps it could remain beneath the surface, overshadowed by the presence of family and the simple joy of a new life in their midst.

You blinked, noting the tiny, budding wings peeking out from Nyx’s swaddle. It took a moment for the sight to register—Feyre and Rhysand’s child had wings. The world narrowed briefly to that small detail, a realization that sent a pulse of concern through your chest. Memories stirred of the quiet horrors you’d learned about: how some winged births could end tragically if the mother’s body wasn’t prepared.

“Oh,” you said softly, voice hushed. “He has wings.” The words escaped before you could smooth your tone. You turned your gaze to Feyre, eyes wide with a hint of shock. “Are—are you all right?” you asked, concern lacing your voice. You knew how risky such births could be, how many mothers—non-winged mothers—lost their lives or their children. The knowledge spilled out in your startled tone, too raw and honest.

As soon as the question left your lips, you caught yourself. This was personal, deeply so, and it might not be your place to ask. A flush warmed your cheeks, and you cleared your throat softly. “I’m sorry,” you murmured quickly, lowering your eyes. “That was intrusive. I didn’t mean—”

Feyre’s smile was gentle, understanding. She shifted Nyx slightly, rocking him in a way that spoke of deep maternal comfort. “It’s all right,” she said quietly, voice kind and steady. “I know it can be dangerous. It was. But I’m fine now—truly.”

She exhaled softly, sharing a glance with Rhysand who offered a reassuring nod. “We had a lot of support, the best healers, and… let’s just say there were extraordinary circumstances that helped.” Feyre’s tone carried quiet resilience, as if acknowledging a trial endured and overcome.

You let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding. Relief and admiration washed over you. “I’m glad,” you said simply, heartfelt. The image of the tiny, safe baby cradled in Feyre’s arms, half winged and wholly loved, took the sting out of your earlier alarm.

Nyx stirred, letting out a small, contented noise, as if confirming that all was indeed well. And so, in that moment, you allowed yourself to trust in their strength and the healing they had found—together, in this extraordinary court.

The dining table was set with care and elegance, an array of dishes spread like a tapestry of flavors and colors. Feyre had returned after settling Nyx down for the night, and now she sat beside Rhysand, her eyes brighter, freer, as though a weight had lifted from her shoulders. You were seated between Amren and Mor, with Azriel directly across from you. The air hummed with conversation, the gentle clink of silverware, and the faint glow of faelight sconces casting a warm gleam over crystal and china.

The food was beyond anything you’d tasted in recent memory—roasted vegetables drizzled with spiced oils, tender meats seasoned to perfection, a fresh salad of night-blooming flowers and herbs that tasted of moonlit gardens. Between bites, you couldn’t help small hums of appreciation. Mor grinned at your delighted expression, whispering that Feyre and Rhys knew how to choose their cooks wisely. Amren, on your left, merely arched an eyebrow, as if such quality was the norm in this household.

Across the table, Rhysand and Feyre spoke quietly with Azriel about the latest developments with Koshiev’s faction. They didn’t hide the topic, but neither did they elaborate on grim details unnecessarily. Still, the tension was palpable.

Cassian, seated beside Nesta, seemed to pick up on the unease radiating from her. He leaned closer, murmuring something low that drew a reluctant smirk from her lips—a rare crack in her otherwise steely demeanor.

The conversation shifted, soft murmurs filling the dining room as everyone seemed to settle into their own thoughts. But your gaze lingered, drawn to the quiet interactions between Azriel and Elain.

They weren’t doing anything outright inappropriate, of course. Yet the way Azriel leaned slightly toward her, his shadows curling faintly around her seat as though they couldn’t help themselves—it was subtle, but unmistakable. And Elain, for all her delicate, quiet nature, didn’t seem to shy away from him. If anything, the small glances she cast in his direction, the way her hand lingered near his on the table, spoke volumes.

Something was going on between those two. That much you were sure of.

But didn’t she have a mate?

The thought gnawed at you. From what you’d learned during your short time with this group, the bond between mates was supposed to be unbreakable, undeniable. A rare gift—or curse, depending on how one saw it. Yet here was Elain, sitting close to Azriel, her mate nowhere to be found.

You couldn’t help but recall the low, tense conversation you’d overheard between Rhysand and Azriel days ago. Their voices had been hushed, but you’d caught enough to piece together fragments. It had been about Elain, about Azriel’s feelings for her—and about how complicated the whole situation was.

Even tonight, the tension was palpable. Rhysand and Feyre avoided looking too long in Azriel and Elain’s direction, as if their mere proximity might ignite something. Cassian’s joviality had dimmed slightly, and even Mor seemed unusually reserved.

You shifted in your seat, the unease settling in your chest like a stone. Whatever was unfolding here felt like a precarious balancing act, one wrong move away from shattering entirely.

It wasn’t jealousy, you told yourself firmly—because at the end of the day, you barely knew him. Whatever flicker of connection you’d felt when you first crossed paths with Azriel had been just that: a flicker.

Still, you couldn’t entirely ignore the truth you’d kept to yourself. That he was your mate.

You hadn’t planned to speak of it, not now, perhaps not ever. What would be the point? He didn’t seem to know, and you weren’t about to disrupt the fragile balance of this group—or his life—by bringing it up.

But watching him now, seeing the way his gaze softened for Elain, the way his shadows seemed drawn to her as if they couldn’t help themselves... it unsettled you.

You reached for your glass of wine, your fingers tightening slightly around the stem. It wasn’t your place to interfere, nor did you want to. And yet, the sight stirred something uncomfortable in you—an ache you couldn’t quite place, an unease that whispered of things better left buried.

For now, you resolved, you would tread carefully. Whatever this was, it wasn’t your story to tell.

As the conversation ebbed and flowed, you caught snippets of Mor and Feyre discussing the upcoming Solstice celebrations. Their voices carried a mix of excitement and warmth, and even those not directly involved in the planning seemed to lean in slightly, drawn by the festive air.

“Everything’s nearly set,” Mor said with a grin, her golden eyes glimmering. “But I still think we need more lights. You can never have too many.”

Feyre laughed softly, shaking her head. “We’re already bordering on blinding half the Sidra with what we’ve got planned.”

“Exactly,” Mor countered. “Bordering. Not quite there yet.”

The exchange drew a small chuckle from the others, and soon the table was animated with chatter about the Solstice—decorations, food, gifts, the music for the evening. You found yourself listening quietly, a faint smile on your lips as their excitement filled the room.

Then Cassian turned to you, curiosity lighting his hazel eyes. “What about you, Y/N? What are you planning for the Solstice?”

You blinked, caught off guard by the question. “Working,” you said simply, as if it were the most obvious answer in the world.

Cassian stared at you, his expression shifting from surprised to faintly unimpressed. “You’re working?” he repeated, as though the concept was completely foreign to him.

You shrugged, taking a sip of your wine. “I gave the night and the day after to the other healers,” you explained matter-of-factly. “They have families to spend it with.”

His blunt stare didn’t waver. “And you don’t?”

The question hung in the air for a beat too long. You didn’t flinch, though. Instead, you gave him a small, wry smile. “Not in the traditional sense,” you replied. “I’ve spent most of my life on the road. Holidays are just... nights like any other to me.”

Mor frowned slightly, her lips parting as though she wanted to say something, but Feyre beat her to it. “You could spend it with us,” she offered warmly, her eyes soft and kind. “If you’re free after your shift, of course.”

You hesitated, glancing around the table at the faces watching you. “That’s kind of you,” you said after a moment, your voice quieter now. “I’ll see how the night goes, but I wouldn’t count on me. Those nights tend to be pretty busy.”

Cassian still didn’t look entirely pleased, but he let the topic drop, turning to Azriel to mutter something under his breath. Across from you, Feyre and Mor resumed their discussion about the preparations, but you noticed the glances they shot your way from time to time.

The Solstice was supposed to be a time of joy, of togetherness. And yet, for you, it had always been a reminder of the distances you’d kept—between yourself and others, between your past and your present. Maybe this year would be different. But you weren’t ready to hope for that just yet.

Nesta, her tone gentle yet curious, asked, “Don’t you have family here in Velaris? Since it’s where you’re from?”

Cassian’s head turned sharply to her, a flicker of something unreadable passing over his face. He looked like he was about to respond, but you stopped him with a soft smile, silently telling him it was okay.

“It’s fine,” you replied, your voice steady but quieter now, the words laced with a faint melancholy. “My parents passed away when I was still a child. And... it wasn’t exactly a union their families approved of. My father was a High Fae, and my mother was Illyrian.”

The table fell silent, the weight of your admission settling over the group.

Feyre’s expression softened, her brows knitting together as if piecing together what your childhood must have been like. Even Amren’s usually sharp gaze seemed to flicker with a faint glimmer of understanding.

Rhysand leaned forward slightly, his elbows resting on the table, his voice low and thoughtful. “A High Fae and an Illyrian,” he mused, his violet eyes locking onto yours with a knowing look. “That couldn’t have been easy for them—or for you.”

You nodded, taking a moment to gather your thoughts. “It wasn’t. My mother’s family saw her as a traitor for leaving the war-camps. And my father’s family... well, let’s just say they weren’t thrilled about him choosing someone they considered beneath him. They tried to make it work, but the rejection on both sides was... hard.”

Rhysand’s lips curved into a faint, understanding smile tinged with something more—perhaps a trace of his own memories. “My parents were mates,” he said softly. “But even that bond didn’t shield my mother from what she endured because she was Illyrian. My father’s court viewed her as an outsider, no matter that she was his equal in every way.”

You glanced at him, surprised by his willingness to share the parallel. A small, genuine smile tugged at your lips. “Then I suppose you understand better than most.”

He inclined his head. “More than you might think. My mother bore the burdens of being Illyrian with grace, but I saw the way it chipped away at her. The way others refused to see her worth simply because of where she came from.”

The room was quiet for a beat longer, the group absorbing the weight of your shared experiences.

“Did they stay in Velaris?” Nesta asked gently, her voice curious but kind.

“They tried,” you said, your voice softening even more. “Velaris was my mother’s dream. She wanted a place where their love could thrive without the judgment of others. But it wasn’t that simple. My father’s family refused to acknowledge me, and my mother’s kin wanted nothing to do with either of us. They both passed when I was young, so... it’s just been me for a long time.”

Cassian shifted, his hand tightening briefly around his glass. He didn’t say anything, but the tension in his body told you all you needed to know—he hated the thought of you enduring that kind of isolation.

“I’m sorry,” Feyre said quietly, her voice warm with empathy.

You offered her a small smile, the sting of the memory softened by time. “It’s all right. I’ve built my life on my own terms since then. And Velaris... it’s still home.”

Rhysand nodded, his gaze steady. “Velaris is the City of Starlight. But it’s also a sanctuary for those who need it. And no matter what, you’ll always have a place here.”

The sincerity in his words caught you off guard, and for a moment, all you could do was nod, your chest tightening with a mix of gratitude and something you couldn’t quite name.

The laughter faded into a comfortable hum, and Rhysand glanced at you again, his tone turning slightly more serious. “Speaking of important matters, are the preparations for your trip to the Dawn Court coming along?”

You nodded, resting your hands on the edge of the table. “It’s going well,” you said. “I’m not rushing, though. The meeting isn’t for a few weeks, so there’s time to finalize everything.”

Azriel, who had been quietly observing, narrowed his eyes slightly. “What meeting?”

You met his gaze evenly. “The head healers of all the courts are gathering to discuss the rising tensions in the world. It’s not something we do often—every ten or twenty years, if that. But given everything that’s been happening lately, it was decided that now’s the time to meet.”

Feyre leaned forward, her brows knitting together in curiosity. “Even though you’ve only recently taken over from Madja, isn’t that going to be... challenging for you?”

Her question was genuine, not unkind, and you offered her a soft smile. “Not as much as you might think,” you replied. “I already know all of them. Either they trained me, or I’ve trained them at some point.”

Cassian let out a low whistle, leaning back in his chair with a grin. “Well, look at you. The prodigy of Prythian’s healers.”

You rolled your eyes at his teasing, though the corners of your mouth twitched in amusement. “Hardly. It’s more about connections and trust. It’s easier to work with people when you’ve already built a rapport.”

“True enough,” Rhysand said, his voice thoughtful. “But there’s still a lot of weight in those meetings. Decisions made there could affect countless lives.”

You nodded, meeting his gaze. “I’m aware. That’s why it’s important we all come together now. We have to be prepared for what might come next, no matter where it starts.”

Cassian broke the tension with a grin. “Still betting it’ll be less of a disaster than a High Lords’ meeting?”

Laughter rippled around the table again, and you shrugged with a playful smirk. “I’d say so. We’re less inclined to argue over who’s the most powerful and more focused on practical solutions.”

“Speak for yourself,” Amren muttered dryly. “I’d argue just for fun.”

The table erupted into laughter, the light-heartedness returning as the conversation shifted to lighter topics once more.

Dinner naturally came to an end, and the group shifted to the living room. The atmosphere turned even more relaxed as the evening stretched on. Cups of tea were passed around for some, while others nursed glasses of wine or stronger spirits. The crackle of the fire in the hearth added a cozy backdrop to the low hum of conversation and occasional laughter.

You found yourself sinking into a plush armchair, your fingers wrapped around a warm mug of tea. The soft glow of the firelight played across the room, highlighting the easy camaraderie between everyone. This wasn’t just a group of warriors and leaders—they were a family. Even in their teasing, you could sense the unshakable bonds that connected them, forged by shared history and unwavering loyalty.

For a brief moment, you allowed yourself to relax, taking in the sight of them. Feyre and Rhysand were curled up together on a loveseat, Cassian sprawled across a large sofa with Mor perched at the other end, her laughter ringing out as he recounted some likely exaggerated tale. Nesta sat nearby, a book in hand, though her attention occasionally drifted to the conversation.

But as your gaze wandered, you noticed something—or rather, someone—missing. Neither Elain nor Azriel was present. The realization sent a small, unwanted pang through your chest, one you quickly buried. Whatever their reasons for leaving, it wasn’t your concern. It couldn’t be.

When your tea was finished, you placed the empty cup delicately on the table before rising to your feet. “Thank you for the lovely evening,” you said, your voice soft but sincere. “But I should head back. There’s still some work I need to wrap up before the night’s over.”

Cassian glanced up from his drink, his grin playful as always. “You’re leaving already? And here I thought Azriel was the workaholic around here, but you might actually be worse.”

His words, though light-hearted, made something twist in your stomach. You tried to brush it off, but then he glanced around the room and added, “Speaking of which... where is Az? Slacking off for once?”

“Leave it, Cassian,” Rhysand interjected smoothly. His voice was calm, but the sharpness in his violet gaze betrayed a flicker of curiosity—or perhaps understanding—as his eyes darted to you. He didn’t press the issue, but the weight of his brief look lingered all the same.

Feyre stood and approached you, her steps fluid and graceful. She wrapped you in a warm hug, her arms firm but gentle. “Thank you for coming,” she said softly. “It was nice having you here. We’ll have to do this again soon.”

You returned the embrace, her kindness settling some of the unease lingering in your chest. “I’d like that,” you replied sincerely, a small smile tugging at your lips.

Cassian’s voice broke through the moment as Feyre stepped back. “You know, if you’re working this late, you might actually give Az a run for his money,” he teased. Then, with a mock thoughtful look, he added, “Though I guess he’s not here to defend his title. Convenient.”

You laughed softly, shaking your head. “Maybe he’s finally taking a well-deserved break,” you said, keeping your tone light as you glanced toward the door.

Rhysand’s gaze followed yours, but he said nothing. The slight quirk of his lips suggested he’d noticed something, but whatever it was, he chose to keep it to himself—for now.

With a final round of goodnights, you stepped out into the cool night air. They were a family, and while you didn’t quite feel like part of it yet, the warmth they’d shown you was undeniable.

As you walked through the quiet streets of Velaris, the crisp night air nipping at your skin, your gaze lifted instinctively to the sky. The stars above were breathtaking—countless pinpricks of light scattered across an endless expanse of velvet black. They seemed so serene, so untouched by the weight of the world below. For a moment, you let yourself be lost in their beauty, your steps slowing as if the universe itself was urging you to pause.

You didn’t notice the tears until a cold droplet slid down your cheek, and then another. Startled, you reached up to brush your fingers against your face, finding your skin wet. Confusion prickled at the edges of your thoughts as you stared at the small drops clinging to your fingertips. You weren’t sad. At least, you didn’t think you were. The evening had been lovely—warm and full of laughter. Yet here you were, crying under the stars.

A hollow ache settled in your chest as you continued walking, the faint echo of your footsteps the only sound in the stillness. You barely knew Azriel. That thought circled your mind like an unrelenting shadow. For all the moments you’d spent stealing glances at him, observing the way he carried himself with quiet strength and grace, there was still so much you didn’t know. So much you might never know.

And then there was the bond. The invisible thread you could feel humming at the edge of your awareness, a constant reminder of something greater, something unasked for. You’d kept it to yourself, not because of secrecy, but because the mere thought of saying it aloud made your stomach twist with apprehension. It wasn’t fair—not to him, not to you.

Forcing a bond on him, on anyone, was the last thing you wanted. Azriel deserved the freedom to choose, the freedom to love without the weight of a bond dictating his path. But even as you told yourself that, a cruel voice in your mind whispered that the bond wasn’t something he would celebrate—not with you as his mate.

What did you have to offer him? Compared to Elain’s gentle beauty and kindness, you felt like a storm—chaotic and unyielding. You’d spent centuries honing your skills, fighting battles, making sacrifices. Vulnerability wasn’t something you knew how to share.

A sharp breath escaped you, your hands curling into fists as your pace quickened. The tears came faster now, silent but persistent, blurring the cobblestones underfoot. It wasn’t sadness, you told yourself again. It was confusion, frustration, maybe even fear.

You weren’t sure when the walls you’d built around yourself had started to crack, but tonight, surrounded by the warmth of the Inner Circle, you’d felt something shift. It wasn’t just about Azriel. It was about family, connection, belonging—things you’d never let yourself hope for, let alone believe you could have.

But as much as you’d enjoyed the night, as much as you’d appreciated their kindness, you couldn’t shake the feeling of being an outsider looking in. They cared for each other deeply, their bonds unbreakable. And you? You were just passing through, a healer with a tangled past and an uncertain future.

The stars blurred as fresh tears welled up, and you stopped in your tracks, tilting your head back to let the cool night air soothe your burning cheeks. You didn’t know what you were crying for—what you were mourning. Maybe it was for the family you’d lost long ago, or the life you might have had if things had been different. Maybe it was for the bond you hadn’t asked for but couldn’t ignore.

Or maybe, it was for the fragile hope buried deep within you—the hope that one day, you might find a place where you truly belonged.

——

Azriel’s POV

Azriel exhaled a quiet breath as he stepped into the crisp night air, the faint sounds of the dinner fading behind him. The garden of the townhouse was peaceful, blanketed in a soft glow from the moon above. Elain walked beside him, her delicate frame tucked into a thick coat, her hands gripping the fabric tightly against the chill.

The silence stretched between them, comfortable at first. But as they wandered further down the winding paths, Elain drew closer, her arm brushing his. He glanced at her briefly, noticing the faint pink on her cheeks—not from the cold, but something else.

It was when they reached the edge of the garden, where the view of Velaris spread wide and glittering below, that she finally spoke.

"Azriel," she said softly, her voice hesitant.

He turned to face her, noting the awkward expression on her face, the way her hands twisted nervously in front of her. “What is it?” he asked, his tone calm, though a flicker of concern stirred in his chest.

Elain hesitated, her gaze darting away before meeting his again. “Are you sure...we can trust Y/N?”

Azriel blinked, her question catching him off guard. Of all the things he’d anticipated her saying, this hadn’t been one of them. “Why wouldn’t we?” he asked, frowning slightly.

Elain’s lips pressed into a thin line. “It’s just...the way she talks, the way she carries herself. There’s something...off about her.”

Azriel tilted his head, studying her closely. He hadn’t missed Y/N’s sharp tongue during the meeting at the House of Wind, but her words had been purposeful, her actions deliberate. If Elain was referring to that, it didn’t make sense for her to hold it against Y/N.

“She was doing her job,” Azriel said carefully, keeping his tone neutral. “If this is about what happened at the House of Wind—”

“It’s not just that,” Elain interrupted, her voice rising slightly before softening again. She looked at him with wide, almost pleading eyes. “You don’t realize the way she spoke to me. The way she...looked at me. It was—” She broke off, shaking her head.

Azriel’s frown deepened. He couldn’t recall Y/N being anything but professional, but Elain’s tone suggested she felt otherwise. Still, he wasn’t one to jump to conclusions without evidence.

“Elain,” he said gently, “what exactly are you saying? Is there something specific that’s made you doubt her?”

She hesitated again, her gaze dropping to the ground. Then, after a moment, she said, “I just...feel like she’s hiding something. A lot of things. And it’s not just her past—it’s her power, Azriel. It’s unsettling. What if she’s here for something else? What if she’s working for Koschei?To attack us from the inside?”

Her voice grew more frantic as she spoke, her words tumbling over one another in a rush of worry.

Azriel’s jaw tightened, though he kept his expression calm. He reached out, placing a steadying hand on her shoulder. “Elain,” he said firmly, his voice a quiet anchor. “You’re overthinking this.”

Her eyes flicked up to meet his, uncertainty flickering there.

“She’s not here to harm anyone,” Azriel continued. “If she were, we would’ve seen signs by now. And even if there were any truth to your fears, I’m keeping a close eye on her.”

Elain’s lips parted slightly, but she didn’t interrupt as he added, “Nothing bad will happen while I’m around. I won’t allow it.”

For a moment, Elain simply looked at him, her expression softening at his words. She nodded slowly, though the tension in her shoulders didn’t completely ease.

“I trust you, Azriel,” she said quietly, her voice barely above a whisper.

Azriel gave her a faint nod, his gaze steady. But as they turned to head back toward the townhouse, a shadow of doubt lingered in his mind—not about Y/N, but about the seeds of mistrust Elain had tried to plant.

Elain bid Azriel a soft goodnight, her steps retreating up the stairs until they faded entirely. Azriel lingered in the quiet of the garden for a moment longer, the chill of the night seeping into his skin as he let his mind turn over her words. Doubt, no matter how unwarranted, was a dangerous thing to sow.

Pushing the thoughts aside, he made his way back to the living room. Feyre, Mor, and Nesta were nowhere to be seen, their laughter and conversations long gone. Only Rhysand and Cassian remained, seated comfortably with drinks in hand.

“There he is,” Cassian said with a smirk, raising his glass. “Thought you’d vanished into the shadows for good this time.”

Azriel ignored the jab, heading straight for the sideboard. He poured himself a generous glass of whiskey, the amber liquid catching the firelight, and crossed the room to join them. He lowered himself into one of the armchairs, cradling the glass in his hand before taking a long sip.

“You missed the part where we solved all the world’s problems,” Cassian quipped, but there was a lightness to his tone.

Azriel shot him a look but didn’t rise to the bait. Instead, he turned to Rhysand, his expression thoughtful. “Did you know about Y/N being half Illyrian and half High Fae?”

Rhysand raised a brow, leaning back in his seat. “Madja mentioned it to me when I first spoke with her about Y/N, but beyond that, no. Y/N hasn’t shared much about her personal life—at least not with me.”

Azriel frowned slightly, swirling the whiskey in his glass. “She’s been...secretive.”

“That’s not surprising,” Rhysand said, his voice calm. “She’s lived a long life, Azriel. People who’ve endured as much as she likely has aren’t quick to share their scars.”

Cassian shrugged, setting his empty glass on the table with a faint clink. “It’s not uncommon, though, is it? Half Illyrians without wings? The camps might not like to talk about it, but it happens more often than they’d admit.”

Azriel’s shadows curled faintly around his shoulders, his gaze distant. “It’s not just that. She’s...different. There’s a weight to her that’s hard to ignore.”

Rhysand regarded him carefully, his violet eyes sharp. “What are you trying to say, Az?”

Azriel hesitated, the words forming slowly. “She doesn’t seem like someone who’s just here to replace Madja or take up the work of healing. There’s more to her, something she’s not saying.”

Rhysand nodded thoughtfully. “She’s a healer, yes, but she’s also a warrior. And from what I’ve gathered, she’s someone who’s fiercely loyal to those she chooses to protect. That doesn’t mean she owes us every detail of her life.”

Cassian leaned forward, resting his forearms on his knees. “It’s not like we’ve shared all our dirty laundry with her either. Hell, Az, you’ve been watching her like a hawk since she got here, and she hasn’t so much as flinched. If she were hiding something dangerous, don’t you think she’d have slipped up by now?”

Azriel didn’t respond immediately, his shadows whispering quietly in his ears. He took another sip of whiskey, letting the burn settle in his throat.

“I’m not saying she’s a threat,” he said finally. “But there’s something...unsettling about not knowing where she stands. Especially now, with everything happening in Prythian.”

Rhysand sighed, his expression softening. “You’re not wrong to be cautious, Az. But until she gives us a reason to doubt her, we owe her the benefit of the doubt. She’s earned that much through her work alone.”

“Relax, brother,” Cassian said with a chuckle. “Not everyone is out to stab us in the back. Besides, if she wanted to, she’s had plenty of chances.”

The conversation lulled, the crackling of the fire filling the silence. Azriel leaned back in his chair, the whiskey warming him from the inside out. Despite Cassian’s teasing and Rhysand’s reassurances, the unease in his chest didn’t fully fade.

He’d keep watching. Just in case.

Rhysand shifted in his seat, his sharp gaze settling on Azriel. His expression was calm, but there was a note of seriousness in his voice as he spoke. “Maybe it’s time for you to look elsewhere, brother. To seek someone who could truly bring you peace.”

Azriel sighed heavily, the sound filled with equal parts exhaustion and frustration. He swirled the amber liquid in his glass, staring into it as if the whiskey held answers he couldn’t find.

Cassian, never one to miss an opportunity, smirked. “You know, Az, Rhys might actually have a point for once. The world won’t end if you let yourself—”

Azriel’s sharp glare cut him off, but it was Rhysand who pressed on, his tone gentle but firm. “Listen, brother, I’m not here to tell you how to live your life or whom to care for. But Lucien is coming back to Velaris for the Solstice, and I don’t want you to—”

Azriel’s head snapped up, and his voice was cold and clipped as he interrupted. “You didn’t have to invite him.”

Rhysand’s brows rose slightly, but his voice remained steady. “He is her mate, Azriel. Whether we like it or not, that bond exists. Ignoring it won’t make it disappear.”

Azriel’s jaw tightened, his shadows curling more protectively around him. “I’m well aware of that, Rhys. But you didn’t need to bring him here. Solstice is for family.”

Cassian leaned forward slightly, holding up a hand as if to diffuse the tension. “Alright, let’s all take a deep breath. It’s been a long day, and we don’t need to—”

“I don’t need your advice,” Azriel snapped, cutting him off as well. His voice was calm but laced with a quiet, simmering anger. He stood, setting his glass down with more force than necessary. “I’m grown enough to make my own decisions, and I don’t need either of you meddling in my personal life.”

Rhysand’s violet eyes followed Azriel carefully, a flicker of something unspoken passing between them. But he didn’t press further, simply nodding once.

Cassian leaned back in his chair, muttering under his breath, “Well, that went well.”

Azriel didn’t respond, his shadows coiling around him as he turned and left the room. He felt their eyes on him as he walked away, but he didn’t look back.

As he stepped into the cool night air, the weight of their words still lingered. His chest felt tight, his thoughts a tangled mess of anger, guilt, and something he couldn’t quite name. He didn’t know what he wanted anymore. Or maybe he did, and that was the problem.

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[eivorx]

"Noble," Eivor murmured after a moment, though he didn't wish to diminish Freydis' words of inspiration. She seemed very set on her beliefs, having only seen a small part of Aetheron's power and destruction. "Even if Aetheron took over Iskaldrik, they freed everyone in the mines. Not out of the goodness of their hearts, but those who were set free might have seen it a different way." Eivor had considered this before, that former captives of Iskaldrik could've easily joined Aetheron – spilling secrets, knowledge. In fact, Eivor was certain of it. "You speak like you're still a Jarl." It was mostly said to poke fun, but he could hear the tonal differences, the structure of how she pieced together everything she wished to say. Eivor couldn't relate. He said what he felt in the moment, a luxury he'd never had before. Affection – she'd brought up the word, and perhaps that was what Eivor could attach such a feeling to. "It was not just affection," he finally said, tilting his head. "Kinship. Friendship. That affection came after." But he wasn't a noble person, not like Freydis. It was anger that drove his steps. "But if you wish to defend me, then I would ask you to not."

"Yes, like the veil. The world of spirits." He remembered it fondly, perhaps one of the few things that could soften the hardened look in Eivor's blue eyes. The dragon couldn't reach such a place anymore, no matter how hard he tried. "It's where I bonded myself to Zaknafein. You know him as Nikandros, but Nik is who carries him, now. I knew them both, love them both, yet still, even in their presence, I cannot reach this place. Not anymore," his voice got quieter, a solace that he couldn't put into words gone from his grasp. At times, he thought he felt glimpses of it within Freydis' cabin, but it was so new, the dragon wasn't sure if it was just his desperation bleeding into his new connection with the veilmaiden. Eivor remained silent for a few moments, but he gave a half smile, despite her worry, "I am hard to kill, Freydis."

"Find the rest? And ruin how they have kept themselves hidden? No. It would be worse for me to do that." Eivor knew he was the one who stuck out. He'd known there were others, but keeping such captive animals together would've only fueled a larger desire to leave. "If they wish to find me, I believe they could. Most of my memories within the Archon's home are...unreliable. Violent. I was a prize, not a participant." Freydis spoke of the three, but once again, the dragon wished he had a better grip on what he knew. Yet she trailed off, some sort of realization hitting her, and Eivor was no mind reader, "What did they bring out?" He snorted slightly at her final idea, splashing water at her with a small, cocky grin, "You were right in understanding that I will decline." He used her formal word instead of a lazy one, as he would do. Despite his words, his expression was semi-relaxed, "You have to fight for what you want, not take on the world's problems. Or you will never get a chance to live a quiet life."

Years of tutelage under Ormir’s perceptive eye, and the necessity to learn to navigate the court as both woman and teenager, had taught Freydis to read subtleties in expression and unspoken words when she truly paid attention. With Eivor, this had become easy at times. Surely she couldn’t always intuit what he was thinking or feeling, but in this moment the question of why was as clear to her as if he had actually spoken it. “A great portion of my drive to make some sort of difference in this war is the innocent blood Aetheron has spilled. Another great portion is because of what was done to you, and to ensure they have no recourse to do it again,” she began to explain. She did not mention she felt that perhaps the first innocents the Aetherian coup transgressed were Eivor and his draconic counterpoints, but he might read that as pity and that wasn’t her intention. “Additionally, I think I also told you after what I witnessed in the veil the first time, the quiet piece and richness of those lives, even in their mundanity–I chose to come back to fight in the hope everyone have a chance to carve out a place for themselves in a safe, stable world. Including you.” She was staring off now, eyes unfocused as they often were when she spoke about what she had seen elsewhere in the weave. “And you know also know I actually feel affection for you, don’t you?” It wasn’t lost on her that he might not. “You said you would defend me first–I assume some of the reasons that led you to say that are the same as my own.” 

Freydis was focused on him again when he answered. Per usual, she did not rush him to collect his thoughts and she tried not to push him to elaborate much further than he had already taken lengths to. But she wanted to understand him, too. “Like the veil?” she asked, her brows upturned slightly. She wondered when he might tire of explaining everything to her simple, human mind developed into something so empty and lacking under restrictive Iskaran law. It was strange to her to think that something as powerful as a dragon felt there was nowhere safe to it. Then, her heart sank as she thought of his forced shift and so many of the allies he may have thought he could come to count on turning against him in an instant. Before she could think any better of it, she heard her voice quietly assert, “I was afraid the rest of the party might kill you after Kansaldi…” She cut the thought off as soon as she recovered herself. 

She was unsure if she felt pleased or patronized by his expression and speech, but regardless of what it was she frowned slightly and the color in her cheeks rose visibly before she looked away from him. “Not exactly,” she responded, her answer perhaps more genuine than this question demanded. “But I’m still somewhat certain that if I tried to get you to agree to let me help you again, you would decline. So I’ll take whatever information I can get on the matter as it comes.” Freydis knew she might be more of a liability than an asset still, though, especially while Nintra Siotta loomed for dominion over her corporeal form. She glanced at their brushing shoulders, the red only now draining from her cheeks. “Why not try to find the rest now?” she asked. Before, she could understand why it wasn’t worth the risk, and she didn’t necessarily think Eivor had little reason to choose not to now either. “I suppose I met three,” she responded, thinking aloud, “but that was different. They were very…” She couldn’t think of a correct word, so she simply lifted her hands and wriggled her fingers at him. “They had no interest in being covert or disguising themselves, especially in bringing out–” Freydis’ silence was instant, her eyes wide in sudden alarm and realization that the dragon killed in that encounter had been abducted and suffered a past similar to Eivor’s. She became smaller, tensed, but somehow more present with a fury and determination clearly at work behind her eyes. “We need to figure out how to suss them out and kill them…” Her fury often dulled if not extinguished her sensibilities.

[hazelkjt]

"I snuck out often as a child and teenager, covering my forehead in a worn, old headband. Never got along with the other Garlean kids, too stiff and uptight for me to make friends with. So I tried my luck in the lower side of the city, hiding who I really was from the Ala Mhigan kids. Didn't matter though, they figured me out pretty quickly. Most of them kept their distance...except two that didn't seem to care at all. Ashe and Denrick Harker were their names, brother and sister from an Ala Mhigan mining family. They were my only real friends here, made everything worth it for me for years. And yet at every turn I was told not to."

"But why? What makes them so different from us? They can laugh, they can cry, they have dreams, can get happy, be sad, everything. What made us different, what made us 'better' than them? No one would ever tell me why. Why were they the ones called 'savages' when we were the ones who thought of them as less than nothing? We were the ones who beat them on the streets, in broad daylight...and the people cheered for it. People were dying right in front of them, and no one cared. Even my own mother and father, my family, just told me to look the other way. To let the guards 'clean up the trash' and ignore them...that they didn't matter."

"Sometimes I get the urge to rip this damn eye out of my head, but what would that accomplish? It wouldn't bring them back, it wouldn't change what I am. So it stays, as a reminder. I don't like to remember, but I can't ever let myself forget. I can't bring them back, I can at least help set their home free...it's the least I can do. I don't care what happens to me after that, at least I'll know I did right by Ashe and Denrick one last time."

[hyunteru]

gonna talk about princess mononoke because my lovely mey and i just talked about studio ghlibi and i just remembered how much i love the film

[smutoperator]

Dirty-Talking Leaders

Hwang Yeji, Yu Jimin (Karina) x Male Reader

Tags: A2M, (lots of) anal, anal fingering, ass eating, carry-fucking, creampie, cum swapping, (lots of) dirty talk, facefucking, facial, full nelson, gape, girlfriend, multiple cumshots, pussy eating, squatting, squirting, threesome, titfucking

Word Count: 6869

Your girlfriend Yeji has been largely absent from your life this year, very busy touring with her group; she's got barely any time for you. At this point, you wonder if she still loves you at all.

"We have talked very little since you began touring," you say to her. "Do you still love me?" you ask her. "Of course I do," Yeji replies. But you remain unconvinced, since it's been a long while since you two had shared any moments.

On the following day, you arrive at your apartment. Yeji told you she was gonna be there, but as you enter it, you are unable to find her. Maybe she's finally gone and no longer wants to pretend to like you at all.

You search the house, trying to find if Yeji is in there. Some stuff that belongs to her is still around the apartment, but she's nowhere to be found. You keep digging but still can't find her. Is she hiding for you? Are you just clueless? Who knows.

You decide to go back to your bedroom, losing hope of ever fiding her, until you get surprised by a striking view just as you open the door.

Your girlfriend is there, completely naked, getting kissed by another girl, also without any clothes on. And what a body she's got: a beautiful face, perfect thighs, but above all else, an amazing pair of big tits.

"What do you think of my new girlfriend, honey? Isn't she pretty?" Yeji pokes fun at you as Karina keeps kissing her. "She's really stunning," she continues as you approach both of them. Yeji doesn't even look at your face, focusing on the massive erection building under your shorts and loving how quickly you got turned on by their naked bodies.

"Yeji told me you have been waiting for a long time for such a moment since she's started touring. I can guarantee we're gonna blow your mind," Karina says very confidently. "What do you think of him, Rina?" Yeji asks. "Seems like he's already ready for us," she continues as you kiss Karina and she touches your still clothed erection.

"That's so hot, baby," Yeji says. "Come on, let this beautiful naughty girl drive you crazy," she continues, pulling your shorts down to unveil your huge cock, as Karina now jerks it off while Yeji watches both of you enjoying each other with your naked bodies.

"I want you to suck his cock," Yeji tells Karina as she gives her big-booed friend a heavy smile. "Oh, dear, I can tell I'm going to suck the life out of his cock," Karina says, slowly getting on her knees as she keeps her hands touching it at all moments.

"Isn't she perfect?" Yeji asks you as you two kiss each other. Karina starts by licking your balls, then moving all the way up your shaft as she stares at you with her sexy eyes. Both of you and Yeji smile looking at this pretty girl with big tits on her knees for your cock.

"I love this big fucking cock," Karina whispers to you. Yeji also gets on her knees but just watches Karina take it in her mouth and stroke it. "I love the way she wants it," Yeji continues. "What a good girl, taking it slow and nice," she continues.

You slowly toy with Karina's mouth as Yeji dunks her head into your crotch. "Take that whole cock, good girl," she says. "Give me more; I want you to feed me that big cock," Karina says as soon as it pops out of her mouth. Yeji obliges. "That's so hot," you and her say almost at the same time as your shaft slowly disappears down Karina's throat.

"I'm going to get this cock so fucking wet for you; every time you push it in my throat, I'm gonna spit all over it like a good slut, getting it wetter and wetter," Karina says to you. That's the spirit; you love the way she talks dirty to you, making you groan as she licks the tip of it. 

"Look at her body, baby; doesn't it deserve more of your attention?" Yeji asks. "Get behind her and worship this beautiful ass," she orders, telling Karina to stand up and getting in front of her to kiss her best friend. Karina lets out a sexy moan as you slide your tongue between her buttcheeks, while Yeji gets on her knees and kisses Rina's tits and tummy before going all the way down to her pussy.

Karina becomes the center of attention as she pushes both of your heads into her sexy fuckholes. Yeji eats her cunt out while you tongue her tiny asshole. "Ahhhhh, ahhhhh," she lets out more sexy moans, her right feet planted on top of Yeji's ass, as the itzy girl slides under her body.

"Holy shit, you two are so hot working your tongues in both my holes," Karina says. "Love how you lick my dirty asshole like that," she continues, taking a deep breath afterwards as you too stay determined to get her folds wetter. "Share me like a good fucktoy, AHHHHHHHHH FUCK," Karins keeps saying as you two worship every inch of her pussy.

"You're such a naughty little girl, Yeji, licking my little fucking cunt in front of your boyfriend," Karina tells her. "Tell me, does it taste better than his big fucking cock?" she continues. Yeji doesn't answer; just like in the past few months, she's too busy touring, but this time the your is on Rina's folds.

You get back on your feet and kiss Karina, taking advantage that Yeji is too busy playing with her pussy, as you two share lots of affection with your lips and you grab Rina's big tits, which are in very close range. "Hmm, baby, you like those big tiddies? Then let's go into bed, and I'll show you how good they are," Karina says.

You lay on the bed jerking your cock off, while both girls get on their knees. "I love watching you suck my boyfriend's cock," Yeji says as Karina sticks her tongue out and licks your shaft from top to bottom. "Wow!" you exclaim as Karina puts it in her warm mouth and stares at you. Yeji is there at the side, smiling at your reactions to her friend's hotness.

"Oh my God," you groan as Karina gives you a perfect deepthroat. "Look like you're enjoying it," Yeji says. And Karina hasn't even started, tonguing your tip and already putting you on the edge. "Look in my eyes and feel my hands crushing that fucking cock," Karina says as she uses it to massage your shaft, making the muscles of it crack and forcing you to use all your forces just to not cum.

"You like my grip on that cock?" Karina says. You can't answer anything, just letting out a groan to survive. You can tell who taught her those edging moves—none other than Yeji herself. And damn what a good teacher she is, because even the simplest moves can already drive you insane.

Karina keeps teasing your cock. "This is just the beginning; I'm gonna use all my orifices to jerk off that beautiful big cock," she says. And she hasn't even used her secret weapon yet, bobbing her head on your cock without using her hands. "I like to go very deep on that big fucking cock," Karina says, getting very sloppy and spitting all over it.

"I love it so much, ohhhhh, this is the best day ever," you say. "Well, we're gonna make it even better, Karina says, unleashing her (not so) secret weapon as she wraps your shaft around her big tits. "Oh, those tits are so perfect, especially sandwiching my baby's big cock," Yeji says, praising her best friend's assets.

"AHHHH, AHHHH, AHHHH," you scream as Karina bounces her tits on your cock. "Oh my God, she's so good," Yeji says as Karina licks the tip of your cock while squeezing it between her tits. "See, baby, I only bring home the best for you," Yeji brags.

"I love the way you work that cock," Yeji tells Karina. "Then come lick the tip too," she replies. "Suck that tip while I stroke that big cock with my massive fucking tits," Rina continues. And that's the moment where you finally can't take it anymore. The long drought had made you completely unprepared for Yeji's magical throat, meaning the moment that she stuck it in your cock for the first time, you caved and burst ropes of cum all over her mouth, with her spitting it so your sperm landed right on Karina's tits.

"Poor baby, he couldn't handle both of us squeezing that cock together," Yeji laughs. Karina pushes her boobs up, tasting your cum mixed with her and Yeji's saliva. "Tell me how it tastes," Yeji asks her. "Salty and sweet," Karina answers.

"That's your fault, you fucking bitch," you say, angry at Yeji for embarrassing you and making you cum so early in front of her best friend. "Yes, baby, that's my fault; I'm really to blame, not you, for missing my sexy mouth in your cock that much," Yeji punches back. "Come here, slut, I'm gonna show how much I missed it," you say.

You grab Yeji's long hair and push her face against your crotch, pounding it with full force. You truly can't deny Yeji's throat is indeed magical, as your cock quickly sprung back up and harder than ever. Karina takes advantage of her friend getting her face plowed, getting on her knees as well behind you to lick your asshole just like you did to hers earlier.

"Take my balls, bitch," you tell Yeji as you keep fucking her face. "Your girlfriend is really a sloppy bitch," Karina says as Yeji bobs her head hard on your cock. "Fuck that face like a pussy," she demands. Yeji pulls up a great show, taking your cock balls deep in her throat, getting Karina jealous as she watches her best friend pull out an amazing work with her throat. "Wanna stuff both our mouths like fleshlights?" Karina asks, getting into your bed with her ass up, with Yeji soon following up.

You then take turns stuffing Yeji and Karina's beautiful, sexy, naughty mouths, getting your cock wetter for their tight holes. "Don't close your eyes," you tell Karina, pounding Yeji's face hard afterwards while she stays with them wide open. "That's how it's done," you tell Karina shortly after. Yeji once again takes the roughest pounding, putting her head on the edge of the bed as your cock destroys her slutty face. When you're finally done, both their chins now drip in saliva as they do a great job spitting all over your big cock as you fuck their faces harder at each turn. After you're finished, you share a triple kiss with both girls, trading further fluids with their naughty mouths.

The two girls push you into the bed as Karina puts her huge tits in your face while Yeji makes the final adjustments to sit on your cock. "That's better than what I expected," Karina says. "I told you he had a big cock," Yeji replies.

Yeji deepthroats you a couple more times, enjoying all the blood of your body rushing into that big shaft. You grab her by the neck, and you two kiss each other like a pair of horny wild wolves. She crawls on top of your body. "Give me that fucking pussy," you whisper in her ear as you suck her perky little tits.

"Come here, Rina, help me and put this big fat cock in my tight meaty pussy," Yeji says as she detaches from you and positions herself on a classic girl on top position. Karina guides your cock into her entrance with a bright smile in her eyes, while Yeji pleases herself further by fingering her asshole.

"Fucking stretch my pussy open, baby boy," Yeji says as your cock gets inside her. "Sit on that big dick," Karina tells her as she positions herself on top of your face. "Such a big fucking cock, it barely fits in this little pussy," Yeji says.

"Oh my God, that feels so good," Yeji says, leaning forward to suck Karina's tits as she slowly bounces on your cock. Karina is having a blast, with your tongue licking her folds down low and Yeji playing with her boobs up top. Yeji detaches from her, bouncing on your cock already in a fast pace and showing her amazing cock-riding skills. But no worries for Karina, as Yeji's mouth is quickly replaced by your stretching arms, with your hands groping her tits hard.

Yeji shows why she's one of the biggest jigglers in the business. Her boobs may not have Karina's massive size, but she compensates that by being an elite bouncer. Karina watches as her best friend teases her. "I know you want to ride this big fucking cock too, having it stretch that little pink pussy and making those big tits bounce like pinballs," Yeji says to her.

"Feed that big cock to this little pussy, fuck baby," Yeji says as Karina gets close to her and kisses her best friend. "Hmmm, naughty girl," Karina says. "OH FUCK," Yeji moans as she puts her fingers up Rina's mouth. "Taste that ass," she says to Rina, putting her fingers back in her butthole while still bouncing on your cock.

"Fuck baby, your cock is so deep in me I can feel it through my asshole," Yeji says, leaning her body down as both of you team up to eat Karina's pussy. "Ahhhhh, ahhhhh," Yeji moans as Karina now motorboats her big tits in your face and you grab her girlfriend by her slim waist, trying not to lose sight with so much action going on around you.

Yeji rides your cock very slowly now, taking every inch of that big cock and teasing you about the wonders of Karina. "If your cock is already throbbing for my little pussy like that, you'll be blown away by my friend's little pink hole," she says. Her dirty talk drives you mad, as you start thrusting upwards while sucking Karina's boobs and grab Yeji's ass, shoving your big fingers up her tiny butthole.

"Hmmm, baby, I see you can't hide your anal obsession for long. But you'll have to wait today, AHHHHH," Yeji says, moaning as your hands. "But first, I want to see this big cock sliding deep in my friend's pussy," she continues.

Karina spreads her legs and sits on your cock. Much to your disappointment, she sits in a reverse position, so you're unable to see her massive tits bouncing. But that's exactly how she intended, teasing you to build up your desire for those massive melons.

"Oh baby, just like that, I love this big fucking cock in my pussy," Karina says as Yeji kisses her. "Be a naughty girl; bounce up and down, my boyfriend," Yeji says, moving in front of her and getting on her knees as she's ready to heat up your balls, lick your shaft, and taste Karina's stretched-out pussy.

"I want to feel every inch sliding in and out of my pussy," Karina says as she increases her pace. Yeji stretches her hands to grab her best friend's big boobs. "Baby, isn't she the best and the tightest?" she asks you. "Oh my God, I love the way your boyfriend fucks my pussy," Karina tells her, as Yeji now places her hands in Rina's pussy and her mouth in your asshole.

"Jerk of that cock while I bounce on it," Karina tells Yeji, who does just as she demands. That makes you lose your cool again, thrusting upwards against Karina's wonderful pussy. "YES, YES, YES," you groan and scream, impressed by the tightness of her hole.

"Taste your pussy," Yeji says, stretching Karina's cunt further, inserting a couple fingers in it, then moving up to shove it in her mouth while sucking her best friend's tits. You seize the opportunity to pound Rina's pussy at full speed, hitting her cervix no stop. "YES, BABY, FUCK THAT LITTLE PUSSY HARD," Yeji commands, raising her voice. "UHHHHH FUCK, FUCK FUCK, FUCK, AHHHHH," Karina moans as she is surprised by sudden blasts inside her tight hole and her tits bounce hard, which Yeji loves to watch, masturbating herself to the scene.

"Slam those balls against her dirty little cunt," Yeji demands of you. "I'm gonna do it even better," you reply to her. Karina's perfect ass at your sight activates your biggest kinks. And if her pussy is already this tight, you know her asshole will be even better, grabbing your shaft and switching holes.

"Oh baby, you want my ass? You gotta go slow on it though; I'm barely warmed up," Karina says. Yeji adds a little spit to your shaft. "You're gonna get really warmed up with that big cock up your tiny little ass, Rina," she says. 

Karina bounces her perfect ass on your cock as Yeji adds a little heat to her pussy. "Rub my cunt like that," she tells her best friend, who also sucks her tits. "It fucking feels like heaven," Karina says. "I'm so proud of you taking that big dick," Yeji tells her. "I'm so happy that this cock is deep in my ass," Karina replies.

You pull out of Karina's butthole, leaving out a gape that Yeji is quickly to fill with her tongue. "You're gonna have a lot more time to fuck her ass baby, but now I need you to fuck mine," she says.

Yeji gets on all fours as Karina tongues her asshole while she sucks your cock. "Your ass tastes so good," Karina tells her. Yeji gets your cock wet as Karina feasts in her ass. You mount on top of your girlfriend, ready to end a months-long drought and punish your slutty girlfriend for giving up that butthole to countless guys while she was on tour.

"Oh fuck, that dick feels so good in my ass," Yeji says. Perhaps just as good is Karina's tongue licking her pussy, as she slides under your girlfriend's body. "Fill my asshole up with that cock," she says. You spread her cheeks, enjoying the gape that starts to emerge in her butthole. "That's quite a big gape, you dirty slut; I bet many guys fucked that hole in that endless tour, but I'm still the best one," you say.

"Yes, baby, you're the best cock to take my ass; that's why I want you to take it hard and deep," Yeji answers. You do just that, fucking her ass hard and deep, better yet with you having such a great cheerleader to motivate you. "Deeper, deeper, stretch that ass balls deep," Karina tells you.

"That cock is so hot going up and down that naughty butt," Karina says to you, making you pound your girlfriend even harder. "I love the way you shove that cock balls deep in my ass," Yeji then says as you give her a massive gape. 

"Pound it, pound it," Karina keeps pushing you. "Isn't that gape beautiful?" Yeji asks afterwards as she chenches it down with your cock deep in her anus, making you groan hard. You pin Yeji's head into the bedsheet, which only makes her want you to push harder. "FUCK THAT ASSHOLE," she rises her voice.

"Like that?" you ask her, meeting her demands with hard thrusts that make the bed shake. Her moans get faster and louder. "KEEP POUNDING, KEEP POUNDING," she says. You destroy Yeji's asshole. "YES, POUND ME, FUCK ME," she begs as her asshole turns into your fleshlight and you spank it hard. "GIVE IT TO ME, GIVE IT TO ME," she keeps begging. "That's the best fucking hole you're ever gonna get; take it hard," she brags as you pin her into the bedsheets and give her a rough prone-bone assfucking while she reaches for Karina's pink pussy and eats her best friend out trying to cope with the violence of your thrusts.

Yeji winks her gape to you as you finish fucking her ass, feeding your cock for Karina to taste. "Suck it, baby, I'm gonna fuck your ass next, but first I need you to clean my cock from my girlfriend's dirty butthole," you tell her.

"Taste her ass," you say to Karina as she feasts on your big cock, taking it deep in her throat and enjoying Yeji's asshole flavor.

"Spread it, baby," you say as Karina gets on all fours. "I want you to use that asshole," she says, in a very soft manner. Despite you fucking it just a few minutes ago, it barely feels like it, as her hole remains extremely tight and you have to carefully insert your cock in her tiny butthole, which refuses to give up.

"Ahhhh, oh my God," Karina moans as she bites the bedsheets while her asshole is slowly stretched out. "Your boyfriend's cock feels so good in my ass; it stretches me out so well," she says to Yeji.

"Fuck her hard, make her remember that cock," Yeji tells you as she pops out on top of Karina's ass, placing her hands on her best friend's cheeks to stretch it out. "Keep spreading it," you tell Yeji, who obliges.

"I love feeling that big cock stretching out my tiny pink asshole," Karina says to you in an aegyo-esque manner, telling you how numb she feels for that cock. Her tight hole squeezes your cock to the maximum, forcing you to put your best effort into fucking it, even with Yeji helping spread it out. It won't be long until you cum again, especially when you look at your girlfriend's slutty face and the way she sticks her tongue out in glee, loving watching your cock disappear inside her best friend's asshole.

"Oh my God, fuck, that cock is so fucking good, ahhhhh," Karina moans. "Looks like that slut can't get enough of that big cock, baby," Yeji says. You look at your girlfriend in the eye while Rina keeps moaning like a kitty in heat. Just like with Yeji, you want to see Karina's gaping hole after your big cock pounds it. But unlike your girlfriend, her hole clenches as soon as your cock pops out of it.

Karina teases you as she also winks her butthole. Even though the size of her asshole is inversely proportional to the size of her tits, you and Yeji bring up a perfect team effort to spread it out and slowly gape it. "That's my girl." You praise Yeji's efforts and feed your cock to her tongue as a reward for her to taste Karina's anus.

"You're such a nasty little whore tasting that asshole; that's what you like, your friend's tiny little butthole," you tell Yeji. "Yes, baby, we are two nasty little whores," she replies to you while Karina is still biting the bedsheets and moaning. "What else do you want for spreading that tiny hole for me?" you ask Yeji. "I know your cock from top to bottom; I can tell you're really close to cumming again. I want you to glaze my face full of your cum when that tiny little ass milks you dry," she demands.

"Spread it wider if you want to get it," you tell Yeji as you get balls deep in Karina's ass. The big tit girl closes her eyes as her asshole gets obliterated and her massive milkers bounce like crazy, and your cock claps against her cheeks. "OH MY GOD, FUCKKKKK," she moans softly as you and Yeji keep playing with her asshole. "Fuck my tiny little asshole just like that," Karina says as you give her butt a huge spank, making her scream. "You fuck me so hard," she moans. Yeji, like the nasty whore she is, licks her best friend's butthole as your cock fills it up. You take turns between both girls holes until you finally can't resist and blast a massive load into Yeji's naughty face, just as she asked for.

"There it is, you fucking slut, my fucking cum all over that fucking face," you say to Yeji, who scoops the drops that fall into Karina's asshole and licks your cock. She then brings her best friend to lick her face and taste her boyfriend's cum. "Taste at this salty and sweet sperm; I know you love it," Yeji says to Karina, who sweeps her tongue all over Yeji's face, adding to her already massive amounts of milk in her body.

The two girls get some time to kiss each other and savor your cum. "You're such a good little slut, Rina, milking my boyfriend dry," Yeji praises her best friend. "But we aren't done yet," she continues, laying her back on the bed. You already know what to do, sliding your cock back in your girlfriend's asshole. "I know you want more, baby; there is nothing you like better than fucking girls in their little assholes. I still remember that time you fucked all my groupmates and came in every single one of them," Yeji says.

The heat picks up as you kiss Yeji and start fucking her in a spooning position. Even though she's a massive slut, Yeji can also be a perfect, passionate girlfriend. "Put it nice and slow in me; that cock is so fucking big," she says, shifting her tone. Karina just watches as you too make out. "Oh my God," Yeji moans as you finger her cunt and pinch her nipples, slowly building her up for a big climax.

"Fuck, you're stretching my fucking asshole so fucking much," Yeji ramps up the f-bombs. "I love the way it stretches me out so fucking hard," she continues. "Did you tell your best friend that?" you ask, as Karina is out of view and turns into merely a bystander, still recovering from the pounding you gave to her asshole.

"That's so good; I like the way you go deep inside me," Yeji says as her anal spooning session continues. "Deep and slow in my little asshole, please, baby," Yeji begs. Karina just enjoys the two lovebirds having sex, masturbating herself to both of you getting fucked. "Keep going; I want to feel every inch inside that tiny little ass," Yeji continues.

"You mean every inch deep in that gaped ass, you whore," you say to Yeji, increasing the pace as your balls hit her clit with full force now, making her moan like crazy. "AHHHHHH, AHHHHHH, AHHHHH, AHHHHH," she screams. "That's what you asked for, you dirty little slut," you say to her as you go back to play with her cunt and enjoy her tits jiggle like they usually do during Itzy concerts.

"Yes, baby, that's the fucking spot," Yeji says as you massage her clit. Her orgasm is building up as you pound her hard. "Fucking give it to that little asshole," she says. Karina returns to the scene, kissing you as you destroy her best friend's fuckhole. "Hmm, she looks so good with so much cock in her ass," Karina says. "Even better with my fingers also in her needy cunt," you reply, stuffing them in Yeji's pussy and searching for that squirting fountain.

"Ohhhhh yeahhh, I like when you fill both my fucking holes, baby; make me squirt; do it like the last time I brought Ryujin here; make me squirt all over my friend's slutty face; ruin her smile," Yeji says, noting that Karina is enjoying watching her getting pounded.

Karina comes close to both of you as you try to make Yeji cum. "Oh yeah, baby, keep pounding that ass," your girlfriend says. Karina licks her best friend's pussy as you choke Yeji, making her walls clench even further. She's really close. You stimulate her nipples. "Fuck me just like that," she whispers to you. "Do you like fucking your slutty girlfriend in the ass?" Karina asks, kissing you. "Oh, I love it," you say to her.

"OH MY GOD, THAT'S SO GOOD, PUT IT ALL THE WAY INSIDE ME, OH, FUCK BABY, I'M CUMMING," Yeji screams as she squirts a fountain that lands in perfect sync with Karina's opening mouth. Better yet, Rina gets to taste it just as you place your mouth in her big tits and search for that hot milk. But you keep fucking Yeji after her orgasm, letting her turn the whole bedsheet wet. "OH FUCK, THAT'S HOW I WANT IT," she moans.

"Look how much this slut wants to get fucked in her asshole," you say to Karina, kissing Yeji while keeping your cock buried deep in her butt. "Now come here and taste it," you tell her as Karina dives her head into your big shaft. "I love watching my slutty friend taste my dirty little asshole," Yeji brags as she fists her own butthole and tastes it herself.

Karina wastes no time and tries to sit on your cock again, but this time you have different plans, grabbing her legs and putting her under a full nelson. "Oh fuck, baby, your cock feels so good to slide in and out of me," Karina says as her legs go fully up in the air. Yeji massages her best friend's lower body, paying special attention to her pink pussy.

"Look how this dirty little slut loves this cock, right? You like that, Rina?" Yeji asks as she massages Karina's pussy. "Yes, make me cum on that cock," Karina demands. "I FUCKING LOVE THAT DICK," Karina screams as you play with her hole and make it gape. "Stretch my asshole out, fuck, keep pumping that asshole deep; jerk that cock off inside me," Karina begs.

"That's so fucking hot, watching you take my boyfriend's cock," Yeji says to Karina. "I'm gonna cum all over it," the big tit girl answers as you fully lock her legs and turn Karina into an anal fleshlight. "Pound that ass, fuck it deep," Yeji says, cheering you up as you destroy Karina's tight butthole. "I'm gonna fucking cum," Karina moans. "Cum on his fucking cock," Yeji demands.

Karina reaches her orgams as Yeji enjoys seeing her friend's gaping butthole. "That's some good work, baby, gape that tight little ass," she says. "Spread my cheeks out; show your girlfriend how much you stretched my ass out," Karina tells you.

"Stuck your tongue inside of it," Karina says to Yeji, who follows. "Hmmm, such a delicious asshole," she says, taking your cock a couple times deep in her throat before putting it back in. "Yes, taste my stretched-out asshole," Karina approves.

"That's exactly what I want to see," Yeji brags, playing with her pussy as she watches you dominate Karina. "Rub your pussy, rub your fucking pussy, as you watch your boyfriend fuck me in my little ass," Karina orders to Yeji. "You wanna cum with me?" she then asks. "Let's cum together," Yeji says.

"Show me how hard you can fuck that ass; I wanna cum in that cock," Karina orders to you, who increases the pace. "Keep going, keep going; I wanna fucking cum," Karina continues to say. Yeji just sits and watches to get a privileged view of her best friend turning into her boyfriend's cocksleeve.

"FUCK THAT ASSHOLE AS HARD AS YOU FUCKING CAN, FUCK, AHHHHHHHH," Karina can't finish the sentence as her legs shake and she cums all over your cock. "Looks like that big cock was too much for that little slut to handle," Yeji says, her hands still in her pussy as she dives into your balls to lick Karina's dripping juices before diving into Karina's pussy to make it squirt further. "Eat that pussy, eat that fucking pussy, ahhhhhh," Karina moans as Yeji gets a juicy drink to taste and loves every second of it.

Yeji misses no opportunity, taking Karina's ass next in her mouth. "Taste that asshole, taste it; your girlfriend is really a dirty little slut; she loves having her tongue deep in my asshole," Karina says to her.

Karina smiles as you give her asshole a second round of pounding. "Fuck as hard as you want; that's your little jerkoff hole; that asshole loves your big fucking cock; shove that whole cock deep in my ass," she says as you reach to jerk her cunt off. "Fuck it harder; make my pussy feel those balls slapping all over my clit," she continues.

"Shit, that's your asshole, that your asshole, give it to me," Karina begs as you increase the pace and hammer your cock deep in her butt, her big tits losing control as they bounce hard. "FUCKKKKK YEAH, YEAH, YEAH, YEAH, DON'T STOP," she screams as she cums again.

"Show your girlfriend what you did to that ass; pull it open," Karina orders to you as she pulls out a massive gape. "Look at that gape; it's so beautiful, so fucking hot," Yeji says as Karina winks it to her. "Looks like your boyfriend's big cock had a blast in my asshole; I hope he isn't tired yet," Karina replies as Yeji dives to taste her hole from your cock.

Both girls team up on your cock as you try to fuck their faces. But you are exhausted. However, the girls want more. Yeji puts her ass up and legs in the air as she lays down in your bed. "My turn," she says as you dive to eat her pussy out. Soon, both of you and Karina are teaming up on her holes, kissing each other as Rina eats Yeji's pussy and you eat her ass.

You quickly put your cock back in Yeji's ass, thrusting it slowly as you recover your energies. "How does it feel in this tight little asshole?" Karina whispers at her best friend's year. "So fucking amazing," Yeji says. "I love the slow and deep pumps, feeling it as you jerk your cock off in my butthole. So hot, baby, I love watching you fuck my ass—better, watching you fuck her ass and then get this big cock back in mine," she continues.

You play with Yeji's gaping hole. "That feels good, right? You like feeling her tight walls clenching on your big cock? Fucking gripping it," Karina asks you. "Please, baby, stick your whole cock deep in my asshole," Yeji begs. "You wanna empty your balls in your girlfriend right now?" Karina asks.

"He wants to empty his balls, but it's going to be in your asshole," Yeji whispers to Karina, spoiling her and making her smile. "Baby, you're so fucking perfect; just make me fucking gape like you do; you know what I like," Yeji keeps saying as Karina kisses her. 

Yeji spreads her ass and increases the size of her gape for Karina to see. "Your cock is so fucking good doing that to my asshole," Yeji says. "It's good and so fucking big too," Karina replies. "And it's getting that slutty asshole very loose, stretching it out perfectly," she continues.

"Ah, fuck, he's definitely loosening it up," Yeji moans as Karina whispers dirty words into her ears. Karina kisses her and fingers Yeji's pussy as you finally get the energy back to increase the pace and play with her gaps. "Oh baby, you and her are gonna make me cum soon; I'm gonna cum," Yeji says. "Then cum on his fucking dick," Karina repies.

"Yes, yes, make me cum baby, keep me fucking like that," Yeji says as Karina's nails pinch her clit, getting her even closer. "That's exactly what I need," Yeji keeps saying. "Oh shit, you hit my spot," Yeji tells Karina. "Your fingers are sending me to heaven," she continues.

"Cum for us, cum for us," Karina demands. "Use that asshole, fuck your girlfriend until she cums," she continues. "I'm gonna cum; I'm gonna cum; just keep doing that baby, FUCKKKKKK," Yeji cums and moans. "Perfect baby, I brought you such a sexy lady; I'm so glad you answered back by making me cum; you gave me such a good dick massage in my ass," Yeji says as you kiss her pussycat and eat her gaped butthole.

"It seems like Rina wants some more cock; are you gonna give it to her?" Yeji asks. "I'm a bit tired," you answer. "Come on, baby, just let her sit on that cock one more time and bounce those big tits all over it," Yeji says, pushing you into the bed as Karina jerks your cock off and prepares herself.

Karina impales herself in your big cock, starting an anal squatting session. "Let me see you sitting on this dick," Yeji says, getting behind her. "That's so fucking hot," Yeji continues, sucking your balls as Karina twerks her sexy ass on your cock, quickly ramping up the intensity and making her big tits bounce hard.

"It's so hot watching your ass bouncing on my boyfriend's dick," Yeji tells Karina. "That juicy ass is so sexy," Yeji tells her as Karins swings her butt back and forth. 

Yeji tastes your cock deep in her throat to make it even wetter for Karina's tight hole. "Taste my ass; lick every inch of that big fucking cock," Karina tells her. "Shove it back in my asshole; I need it so bad," she continues, to which Yeji obliges.

Yeji now gets even nastier, licking your shaft trying to follow Karina's bounce. "Give it to me," Karina whispers as Yeji puts you on the edge with her insane cock-licking and ball sucking. "You've got such a nice ass; I want to see you smash that booty on his big fucking dick," she tells Karina.

"Oh shit yes, that cock is so big in my asshole; I love how deep it gets inside me," Karina says as she keeps twerking and squatting on it. Yeji now gropes her best friend's boobs as she bounces on her boyfriend's cock. "I love riding that fucking dick with my asshole, yes, yes, yes," Karina tells her, moaning harder. "And I love watching you ride it; you've got such a hot ass, Rina," Yeji replies.

"Stretch me out, baby; I won't stop until you cum in my ass," Karina says. "Such a fucking dirty girl, the perfect cum slut," Yeji says, enjoying Karina's insane squatting on her boyfriend's dick. "Look how hard this dirty slut rides; she really wants your cum, baby," Yeji talks.

"Your boyfriend is living his best life now, Yeji, jerking off his big cock in my tiny little asshole, fulfilling the dream of every guy in this country," Karina says, flaunting about her assets as her asscheeks clap loudly against your hips. "Bounce on that fucking dick until he cums," Yeji says. 

Although you are quite tired, you finally decide to take matters into your own hands, getting up the bed and lifting Karina up to carryfuck her in the ass. Yeji slides under your body, sucking your balls as you pound Rina's butthole. "FUCK, FUCK, FUCK, FUCK, FUCK, POUND THAT ASSHOLE, GIVE IT TO ME. SHITTT!" Karina screams, her big tits bouncing really hard as you take every opportunity to suck them as soon as they get within reach.

"CUM INSIDE ME BABY, CUM IN THAT TINY LITTLE ASSHOLE, SHOW YOUR GIRLFRIEND HOW MUCH YOUR BIG COCK LOVES IT," Karina begs. "DON'T STOP, USE THAT ASSHOLE UNTIL YOU FILL IT UP WITH YOUR SPERM," she continues to shout. Yeji uses her hands to stroke your cock as you pound her friend. "JERK THAT FUCKING COCK INSIDE ME, MAKE IT BUST," Karina orders.

Yeji's stimulation is too much for you to resist as you explode hard inside Karina's tight butthole, lifting her body completely and flaunting about the gape you left in her asshole like it's your personal trophy. Your cum starts dripping down it and lands straight on Yeji's mouth for her to taste. "Wow, that asshole got such a nice flavor with my boyfriend's salty and sweet cum," Yeji says.

"Bring her down; I want her to taste it," Yeji orders as you put Karina back on her feet and the two start kissing each other and swapping your semen in their mouths. "Such a nice, hot, and sticky load, isn't it?" Yeji asks Karina. "Yes, it's perfect; I can't wait to do this again," Karina replies.

Karina gets her clothes back on and leaves your apartment. What a fool you were for thinking Yeji no longer loved you. After today, you had no doubts; she was the best girlfriend ever. And more than that, the nastiest, dirtiest, and sluttiest of them all.

"So, baby, who do you want me to bring to you next time to fuck her ass?" Yeji asks. "But you can't say Karina," she continues.

"Honestly, any girl, you're such a good girlfriend to me," you tell her.

"Wait and see, I already have someone in mind," Yeji says, kissing your cock for one final time and licking the remnants of cum out of it.

"I can't wait," you say, kissing her as you collapse into your bed.

[dreamsteddie]

Nancy knows what people think when they see her and Steve together these days. People mostly include Robin Buckley who, despite what they both say, Nancy doesn't completely believe isn't carrying some kind of torch for the man.

They aren't dating, but it's obvious to anyone who knows them that's what Nancy is angling for. She's not subtle, and she's not trying to be. Doesn't see any reason why she should be. But she knows what it looks like. Nancy Wheeler, fresh off an amicable but heartbreaking end to her relationship with Johnathan Byers has turned tail for a rebound with former boyfriend Steve Harrington. She's using him. She's leading him on. She's going to break his heart, again.

The truth is that Nancy has always liked Steve, was in love with Steve for a fleeting moment when they were both young and stupid and full of mistakes waiting to be made and in the end they had hurt each other, misunderstood each other, too many times to last through their tumultuous teenage years.

The Nancy and Steve of 1984 couldn't have loved each other right, but Nancy knows in her heart that the Nancy and Steve of 1987 could make something beautiful.

Steve is so different from who he used to be. There's a steadiness in him that he always tried to emulate but never fully embodied until the summer of 1985. He always knew how to make her laugh, how to get her to tap into that adventurous spirit within her and live life, but now he also makes her feel safe.

She wants to hold him the way he used to hold her. Wants to whisk him away to New York and build a life perfectly balanced between her ambition and his steadfastness. So she's putting everything she has into rekindling those embers that have always smoldered between them into a steady fire.

She just has to convince Robin that she's in it for the long haul this time.

------

Robin thinks that before she met Steve Harrington her life was never so much like a soap opera.

Her best friend seems to attract danger, betrayal, and romance to him like the world is full of moths and he's the only flame for miles. It would be funnier if it wasn't so god damn annoying sometimes.

Steve doesn't know it, despite how much he insists on being some kind of love expert, but he's got two very eligible bachelors vying for his hand at the moment. She's pretty sure they both see themselves as tragic heroes in this tale of romance, but from her vantage point, it's more like two ornery cats fighting for the prized spot of their owner's lap.

Nancy and Eddie have made themselves both near-permanent fixtures at the Family Video. Ostensibly, they come in because Hawkins is still in the process of rebuilding and there isn't much to do at the moment outside of wandering the woods, loitering at the convenience store, and watching movies at home. In actuality they're both trying to monopolize as much of Steve's time as possible, each trying to lock down his weekend plans before the other.

The first couple of weeks it was funny just to watch, now the only enjoyment she gets out of the whole circus is ruining their plans. She relishes the pissed-off-priss look she gets from Nancy when she asks Steve to go to the drive-in the next town over and Robin turns it into a group outing instead. It's equally funny to watch Eddie's puffed-up shoulders droop when he can't figure out a way to say no to Robin enthusiastically asking if she can join them at the trailer to smoke up on a Saturday night.

In truth, as much as she enjoys messing with them, Robin knows who she wants to win this war. She knows too much about Steve and Nancy's past and all the ways they weren't good for each other to trust her deceptively fragile best friend in Nancy's capable hands.

Eddie, on the other hand...well she's still going to make him work for it before she throws him a bone.

------

Eddie's never been one to fall in love.

He's had crushes, shared a few kisses with girls and boys alike, and lost his virginity in the same fumbling but meaningful way most teens do.

But love? He's never had that before, wasn't sure what it would even feel like.

It turns out that for Eddie, being in love feels a lot like being an overgrown house plant that's finally been moved into suitably a larger pot.

You see, Eddie knows a lot about growing up on his own. Raising himself and finding ways to survive, if not thrive, with a distinct lack of nurturing. He knows how to grow under someone, to grow under the clumsy guidance of his uncle Wayne who never intended to become a parent. And most of all he knows a hell of a lot about growing despite. Growing under the harsh boot forever trying to push him back into the hard dirt he came from.

It's something else entirely to grow with someone in the way he's been growing with Steve.

Steve who was there when he woke up, almost equally as injured as Eddie himself after a second, world saving round with Vecna. Steve who let Eddie lean on him in the difficult month of physical and emotional recovery that came next. Who helped Eddie come to terms with the new reality he was living under the way Steve wished someone had been there for him after his first encounter with the Upsidedown. Steve, who on paper should have been one of the people pushing him down, always gave Eddie the space to be himself and never tried to force either of them into a box they didn't fit.

Eddie knows he's not The Girl. He's not the one who got away, he's not the stalwart princess in one of his campaigns who saves the day herself but still gets the guy. He's not Nancy Wheeler.

But he's also not a quitter, and even if everything about the world and the narrative arc of their lives says that Steve will never end up with him, Eddie knows he would regret it for the rest of his life if he didn't put his hat in the ring for the hand of the fair Sir Steve.

------

Steve's not stupid.

He knows that there's something happening between Nancy, Eddie, and himself. Knows that if he chooses to look a little closer, to examine why exactly all his weekends are suddenly booked up and Robin has taken to stealing the Recese's Pieces off the shelf whenever either one of them comes into the store like she's settling in for a show, he would come to the conclusion that two of his best friends are essentially courting him in competition with each other.

But Steve isn't looking closer.

His mom always said that he was just like his father, too stubborn for his own good.

Robin says he's a control freak, pushing non-life-threatening problems off until he knows how to deal with them on his own terms.

The truth is Steve already knows how this will end, and he knows how this should end.

Because in the eyes of society, in the arc of the narrative, Steve and Nancy should already be making plans to move out to New York and start a life together. Steve should be looking at apartments while Nancy finalizes her class schedule. He should be looking into getting a job at his dad's New York office to support his future wife through her college education where they both know she'll breeze through her classes and move onto the world-changing career she was always meant to have, while Steve stays home with their children like a perfect little modern family.

And the thing is, if the story had gone like it was supposed to, if the world had been saved the fourth time around and Eddie Munson had died on the cold, hard ground of the Upsidown, that's probably exactly the future that would have happened and Steve would have never known to not be content with it. But Eddie did make it, and while Steve mourns the future he could have had, he knows it's not the one he's going to choose in the end.

Even though Steve knows exactly what will happen when he allows himself to face the ever-mounting tension between the three of them, it's scary to take that plunge.

Everything about Steve's world up until Robin has told him that what he's going to choose will damn him forever, and even if he's never put much stock into God and the church, he knows that the future in front of them will never be easy. There's a part of him that wants to take the easy way out. He's never been attracted to a man before Eddie, never had to imagine himself loving someone discreetly, and the thought of it makes his heart hurt prematurely. It would be simpler, he knows, to choose the path most taken.

But Steve has always thought more with his heart than his brain, and he knows that after everything they've been through, after all the time they've spent healing together and growing as one that he could never choose anyone but Eddie.

The time is coming for him to make his final decision, he can feel it, but for now he'll let them sit in this liminal space a little longer.

[heegyukeluv]

a hundred sunsets (sjy)

pairing: jake x afab!reader

synopsis: Using a dating app in order to find a lover rarely worked properly to you, which was the reason you never planned to do so. But bumping into someone so charming as you texted your possible future love interest wasn’t on your plans either. 

my's note: hello!!! it's not only my first time writing in english but also my first time using tumblr to post a story  i’m honestly kinda nervoussjdjdjs. a few things I want to say before anything: those are fictional characters, also i know almost nothing when it comes to other country’s educational systems sooo i’m sorry if something is off, and mostly important: enjoy!!! 

i wasn't planning to write this much but i think i got a little carried away lol

warnings: quick mention of alcohol (all characters are of age!), slow burn kinda?, at least one ‘kms’ joke srry, strangers to friends to lovers, pet names (sweetheart, pretty, sugar, etc..), lot of language, jake is downnn baddd, there’s a slightly jay x y/n moment (they go on a date lol) but not too much dw!!!, reader blushing/turning red! eventual smut (MINORS DO NOT INTERACT) - jake is kinda a sub, oral sex (both), unprotected sex (don’t do it!!!), j. cums inside (consensual), overstimulation (m), slight dacryphilia. enha’s jay, sunghoon and heeseung + lesserafim’s yunjin and chaewon as side characters. LMK IF I FORGOT SOMETHING.

wc: 22k

NOT PROOFREAD.

EXTRA (epilogue kinda?)

As comfortable as your couch was and even though you very much loved watching “Pitch Perfect”, that wasn't the fun weekend you had planned, actually you didn't plan anything at all. But there you were, licking your fingertips in order to clean up the salt flakes of the chips you devoured during the last minutes.

It wasn't like you really cared about what your lifestyle was turning into during the few months that passed by, opting to stay at home doing your little things here and there, taking a fair break from the crazy parties at suspicious places alongside a lame try to hang out with very random people... 

The initial excuse of "I'll focus more on my studies" was holding a bit, however you couldn't help but feel bored at your choices at this point. 

You sighed, opening the message app on your phone and re-reading the last texts you received in your friend group.

Jinnie 💘: my sweet little y/n i’ve been here watching you ROT down in your apartment and i’m tired!!! sure you don’t wanna party anymore or wtv BUT FOR GOD’S SAKE i love you but truth be said YOU NEED TO GET LAID!!!! download the app pleeeeasseeee it’s not like you’re gonna match with a weirdo (i guess Chaebae 💖: Worst case scenario you just call me and I go to rescue you with my very muscly arms Best case scenario you win a good fuck !

You laughed again at the texts, picturing Chaewon with her baby face and a very packed body. Would she be able to really punch someone on the face in order to protect you? For sure she would. And she didn't even need muscly arms or whatever. 

Being friends for God knows how long you thought about trusting them. They wouldn’t try to mislead you, right? 

You always had little to no interest in dating apps. The few times you tried you constantly felt like you were practically selling yourself as some product with specific traits, where the buyer doesn't have enough chance to get to know more parts of you before anything, chasing for the next step so eagerly.

Although your heart beats fast for people you just met seemingly outwardly interesting, the real feeling of wanting to be with them, to go out on dates, to trust enough to let parts of yourself to be shown comfortably needs time and usually grows slowly.

You never really dated anyone in order to fulfill momentary desires, your own body wouldn't let it happen as you lose interest as soon as you feel too pressured by the other part or when the connection wasn’t clicking right.

Chaewon and Yunjin were different though. They had the free spirit to just hit that one night stand and be happy about it. You were happy about it, loving to listen to their crazy dates and nights out, sharing the most terrific stories about it while drinking some wine on your balcony.

Nevertheless, you were kinda desperate. Your last relationship ended one year ago, the one you rooted for a very long time – two years and five months, to be exact, until one day you caught him cheating on you with one of his "best friends that you don’t have to worry, baby". Very much cliché but also a big trauma in your life, leading you to this very moment of neediness but not enough courage to trust someone again.

Since then you have been hooking up once and a while with random people you met at parties, but never felt right or enough especially because you tried so hard to either not get attached – and with that lose the brief sexual interest – or on the very other side of the hand, to build up some kind of relationship.

Every single one turning into a big failure. 

Sighing again, your fingers typed on the screen keyboard.

You: Can you send me the name again?  Chaebae 💖: OH??? YUNJIN Jinnie 💘: I KNOW [LFS] hope you enjoy!! hihi You: What's with the acronym lol Chaebae 💖: "Love at First Sight"  You: Oh god And you rly think it’s a good idea? Chaebae 💖: ..yeah? Jinnie 💘: a great idea actually! You chuckled. What could go wrong?

Everything went wrong.

Not every single thing, but a bunch for sure. 

You didn’t know if your taste was too specific or if overall men were just that boring. You had good features, your pics weren’t that bad either and your personality… Liking video games, some astronomical stuff, movies and dogs couldn’t be a big red flag, right? 

But every match got you thinking “what happened to the old ‘hi, how are you?’”. Maybe because of those exact traits you put on display made the weird nerds attracted to you as a potential match, thinking their fantasies would be fulfilled by you. 

Of course you understand people on those kinds of apps sometimes have very clear goals setted, but how frustrating is it to try to have a good conversation and the least creepy answer be “is it weird that i want you sucking me while i play league of legends? lmao”?

No matter how defeated you were feeling you weren’t one to give up. And that leads to this very moment as you type fast on your phone with your current attempt. 

Park Jongseong, or just Jay, was hot. Like, very hot. And his talking wasn’t going to weird places so far, which at this point was a big win. He was funny and somewhat endearing, sharing avidaly about his travels and his music interests with so much passion that you started to rethink your own life choices thus far – was the ongoing college degree a good choice? Should you give up everything and start to live as an artist? 

Lost in your train of thoughts about maybe having found somebody worthy of your time as you walked down the hallway heading to your next lecture of the day, you didn’t expect to hit your face straight into someone’s chest. A very strong and hard chest by the way, you thought briefly, scented with some woody essence that got straight into your senses. The sweet voice of the owner wasn’t expected either.

“Oh shit, I’m so sorry!”, the boy uttered with a worried tone looking down at you trying to see if he had hurt you in some way. You almost didn’t catch his thick accent. “Are you okay?” he questioned softly, still concerned. You blinked a few times before coming back to reality, looking up confused at his face and answering hurriedly with slightly widened eyes.

“I’m the one who should be sorry! God, I’m so stupid, I should be more careful,” you started to blather as you lost yourself in that pretty face you just hit into. The whole combo was breathtaking. Plump glossy red lips and puppy eyes full of worry; the silky brown hair was just as normal as any other brown hair but what the fuck was that face? “I was looking down at my phone and I didn’t see y–”, you were interrupted by the honeyed voice again “I mean, I was also using my phone and didn’t see you either,” he chuckled. “You’re fine, sweetheart.”

Your eyes widened even more at the same time as a smirk decorated his beautiful lips. You don’t know what got you more flustered, the pet name or the double meaning of that simple phrase. You could feel your cheeks burning hard and your first instinct was to look down to the floor and wonder if hiding yourself beneath the tile was a good option.

“Well, sorry again,” he said and you forced yourself to swallow down the saliva that got stuck on your throat and to look up again, facing now a cute small and shy smile that made your heart beat fast. Too fast. “See ya!” and just like that he went his own way, not even waiting for your response.

You were sure someone had glued the sole of your shoes on the ground while you two had that small and awkward talk, because there’s no way your legs stopped working properly just because of him.

You looked over your shoulder in order to see his back going away but it was already too late, since he wasn’t around anymore. You thought to yourself he was certainly a new student, because you would have noticed him sooner. How could you not?

His chocolate eyes and sweet voice were the only things on your mind as you picked up your phone to text back Jay, trembling a bit from the encounter still.

You: of course we can see each other this friday!! :) 

You tried your best to fully focus on your upcoming assignments, but your library time has reduced quite a bit and even in your house your attention was wandering constantly. For the last three days you walked around your whole campus trying so hard to bump into that good-looking visage one more time, going back and forth that hallway hoping to see that guy.

Describing his appearance to Chaewon and Yunjin didn’t help a bit, especially because everything you could remember was his sweet voice, his silky brown hair and his very beautiful smile. Just like any other guy. 

But he wasn’t. 

He looked smooth, confident and whatever other compliment you could build to him – like, you never really met him to know more than just the appearance, and his looks exuded that so you just guessed. The fucking “sweetheart” coming from his mouth sounded too good for your own heart. And that was everything you got from him. Not even a glimpse of something else like what classes he got or anything like that.

“I don’t know, I’m starting to worry you are seeing ghosts or making people up, girl”, Yunjin said as her hands unwrapped her sandwich right before she took a big bite.

“I’m not!” you whined with a pout. “I swear to god he exists. I need him to exist. He’s too fine,” you whispered the last part, even though they both heard you.

“This is definitely something someone who is starting to see things would say, y’know that, right?” Chaewon said with a laugh, making you chuckle a bit because, well, it’s true. How does one prove a person exists given that no one but you saw him?

The campus was big enough for you not to see him ever again, however after the quick encounter you noticed he walked towards the end of the hallway, to classes that only someone with an area of study similar to yours would go to.

“This is frustrating,” you stated, looking at the people wandering around still hoping to see him. Your lunch already forgotten in front of you.

“Don’t you have a date in like a few hours?” Chaewon questioned with a raised eyebrow. “Shouldn’t we be worrying about you and that hot Jay guy instead of you and the we-don’t-even-know-if-he-exists guy?”

“She’s right, baby,” Yunjin added. “Jay looks adorable. You should focus on him.”

You nodded defeated, sighing and forcing yourself to re-read your texts with the said guy. “You’re right”, you smiled a bit.

Jay: Looking forward to our date tonight! <3

You: yeah, me too :) 

And just like that the afternoon has arrived and you got yourself in a dilemma of clothing and accessories and shoes and makeup and even between your perfumes! Everything seemed terrible together, nothing was right, no cloth piece looked good enough to match Jay’s insane visuals and taste in style. Through his photos you noticed the way he fashioned himself, wearing fancy brands with a generous constancy, looking too good for yourself.

You were on the verge of crying when Yunjin called you, as if she felt in her guts you needed her.

“Hey,” you answered the call, quickly accepting the change to a video call and propping your phone on your desk. “How we doin’, baby?” She asked curiously with a big excited smile. “Why aren’t you ready yet?” You noticed she had makeup on and was doing her hair while talking to you.

“Not doing well, Jinnie…” you pouted, looking at the mess around you. You were dealing with a lot of emotions at the same time and felt so lost. “I don’t know what to wear,” you said sincerely. “I feel like nothing I have here is enough to match Jay’s.”

In your defense, it’s been a long time since you ever went on a date, especially a dinner date and with someone so elegant like Jay.

You weren’t expecting Yunjin almost screaming at you. “Don’t you dare to say anything like that ever again!” You startled. “Y/N, you will look good in any clothing you decide to wear, because you are hot. Not your clothes or accessories or anything. They just complement your own beauty!”

While Chaewon normally was the one who would speak up for the whole group in terms of defending her girls, Yunjin worked on the other part of bringing the mood and the self esteem up. And both of them always did a great job.

“You are so fucking right, Yunjin,” she smiled proudly after you spoke, continuing her job on doing her hair.

You looked around one more time, getting out of the frame just to change yourself in a simple black dress long enough to cover half of your tights and the exact amount of tightness that hugged your curves with close perfection. “Thoughts?” You appeared again in front of the camera after a few minutes of trying some accessories.

“Sexy. And pretty. You are so getting laid tonight!” You chuckled. “I think I’m not the only one, though?” You wiggled your eyebrows playfully and she just giggled, before saying a quick goodbye and ending the call.

Just like you, she had things to get done. 

Putting on some lip gloss as a final touch, you were ready. And just in time as you felt your phone vibrating inside your purse with Jay's text.

Jay: I’m here :) You: Coming!

The big car greeting the door of your building was expected at some point, nonetheless your shocking expression was hardly disguised with a nervous smile. As Jay stepped out of his car, you quickly analyzed his outfit and had to take a breath because his white button up shirt with the sophisticated black trousers was getting yourself out of orbit. You felt a little dizzy when his hand positioned on your waist as he leaned to greet you with a little kiss on the cheek and a pretty smile.

He opened the door for you and when you both had settled down on the car seat, he said “You look great, Y/N”. With his help, you put on the seatbelt and thanked with a kind smile. "You look good yourself too, Jay."

The drive to the restaurant was quite normal, a few words being exchanged here and there, the conversation was pretty ordinary. You were a pile of nerves and you had to almost physically stop yourself from moving your legs up and down due to the feeling of anxiety. It’s not like Jay was making you uncomfortable, but you didn’t felt too comfortable either. The whole fancy type of thing was getting you too hesitant for a first date. You were more like a cafe date girly, stargazing at some open air park or maybe a picnic. Now you were blaming yourself for not letting that out beforehand.

Jay parked the car at the parking lot. “We’re here”, his voice broke you out of your mind and when you glanced up at the restaurant you felt like dying inside.

Too fancy.

“It’s… amazing,” was everything that slipped out your mouth as you got out of the car with Jay’s help. “I’m glad you liked it, princess.”

The pet name didn’t get you the much you hoped it would, actually it made you think about the fucking hallway guy and his smooth “sweetheart” saying, sending shivers down your spine.

When both of you reached the table reserved under the name Park Jongseong and you looked through the menu, you knew you were fucked up. With no shame, though, you asked “Could you order for me? I know little to no ingredients on this paper.”

Jay let a small breathy laugh and nodded ordering for both of you. He picked a wine impressively saying the name and the year and whatever other things wines have in its description trying to impress you. However, your focus was on the view that you finally noticed on your right side that faced a big window. The night sky was impressive and the moon was shining prettily. 

“Enjoying the view?” he asked after sipping a bit of his wine. “Yeah, it’s incredible. I love the moon, actually I–” you didn’t had the chance to even start on your probably long talk about how much interested you are in the moon, being cutted of by Jay.

“Did you know that once I almost had the chance to go to the moon?” Your head snapped so fast towards his direction that you thought you would break your neck. “What?” The discredited and doubtful expression adorning your face was so clear still you were not afraid of showing it off.

With that, you discovered a not so good part of Jay: his somewhat annoying and exaggerated personality of trying to impress you with exorbitant things, too different from the texts you guys had exchanged. You had no interest knowing that his first birthday present was diamonds or that his dad bought him a car even before he turned eighteen. Let alone that he traveled to every single place you said during the conversation.

The way he would blurt out interrupting you in order to say "It's so amazing there! You would love the beaches and the museums, and the..." so it goes, every single time was really angering you.

Feeling left out in a duo talk was a new experience to you. How could someone be so full of himself and act like his life is the only one that matters? His gentlemanly aura was falling down very fast.

“You don’t seem to be enjoying our date,” he pointed with elegance when you went full quiet, looking directly at you. You sipped a bit of the wine that actually tasted too bad for your palate, noticing how half of your food was left out on your plate. You forced yourself to eat as much as you could handle, but the aftertaste of that food was worse than the taste itself. 

“Oh, now you noticed me,” you artificially smiled.

“What do you mean by that?” he asked, a bit offended. You got nervous, but didn’t let that get on you. “I mean that for the past two hours all you talk about is yourself. At first I was like ‘okay, this is how we know each other!’, but since then I haven’t had the chance to talk about anything related to myself, like my likings or whatever,” you vented, having to take a deep breath and drink some more wine afterwards. 

“I’m sorry, but I don’t get it,” Jay seemed honestly confused.

“Are you stupid?” the question slipped your tongue a bit too fast for your own thinking. You widened your eyes and covered your mouth with your hand. “I’m sorry I–” 

“I don’t think I’m stupid, but I really don’t get it. It’s my first date in a while and I don’t really remember having to listen to the girls at all…”

Squinting, you questioned genuinely, “What do you mean? Like, the girls you took out on dates just… listened to you bragging about diamonds and travels?” He kinda mimicked your expression and replied as if it was obvious “...Yeah…” 

After you blinked a few times you recomposed yourself and drank the whole wine on your glass at one go wishing you could just get drunk enough to forget that night. Jay watched you with a fazed expression as you got up from your chair. “I’m sure you’ll find someone that likes you the way you are. But with all due respect, to me, you kinda… Y’know. So I’m leaving.” You pointed with your thumb to your back, not even knowing if the exit was that way. “It was… an experience, I think.” You forced a smile. “Do I have to pay for something?” 

“No, don’t worry about that,” he was quick in his response, feeling a bit ashamed and soon adding “But I can get you home, you just have to wait for me to p–”

“Nah, I’m fine. I’ll call a cab or whatever,” you interrupted him as soon as you could, not wanting to spend any more second with him. Being in a closed space with him for more than a few seconds would be too embarrassing. 

“Y/N, come on. It’s the least I can do for you. You don’t have to walk alone at night, it can be dangerous.” You sighed, tapping his shoulder softly when you got closer to him. “Jay, it’s fine. It was not meant to be,” you tried to sound certain but what left your mouth was a mix of sneering with a doubtful tone. When he said nothing more, you left.

You were free. And also hungry. And a bit tipsy.

Maybe it was not the best idea to walk alone at that time of the night, but somehow you managed to feel better outside than with Jay. He was great, but definitely not for you.

You questioned yourself if calling Yunjin or Chaewon or maybe both could be a good idea, but knowing them they would show up in no time and try to beat the crap out of Jay and you weren’t in the mood to witness a murder. Actually all you needed was food. And maybe a cozy place. Nevertheless you typed on your phone just to update your girls.

You: Date went down the hole Guy’s kinda suck ngl Chaebae 💖: WDYM ARE YOU OKAY  DO YOU NEED ME TO GET THAT BASTARD OR WHAT WHAT DID HE DO WHERE ARE YOU Jinnie 💘: i’m very much drunk rn but tell me his address and i'll kick his ass and get you home or are you home already?

You laughed at the quick replies you received and typed some reassurance to them while continuing your walking process. Your goal at that point was to find a convenience store where you could get some lamen and perhaps a soda.

While you wrote down your last message walking slowly not to trip, you bumped into someone, face straight to their chest.

Firm and cunning hands held you by the waist since you lost balance because of your heels, preventing you from falling. Before you could even say anything, that fucking woody essence went directly through your senses and it was as if history was reescribing itself, like a gift from fate. This time, you were fully in his arms.

You looked up. “I’m so– Oh, you again?” He showed his charming smile. Because of the proximity you noticed how the corner of his lips were a bit curvy. So attractive and for what? 

Just like the last time, you blinked twice before realizing what really was happening, feet fixed on the ground. “I’m starting to consider that you like bumping into my chest, sweetheart,” he said with a grin, his mentoled breath hitting straight on your face.

Thank god his hands still held your waist, otherwise you would definitely fall. Your baffled expression had him chuckling a bit. “Did I hurt you?” he asked with care, looking directly at your eyes. His pretty chocolate eyes were hidden behind black specs this time.

You kept gazing stupidly at him like he was a distinct specie, an alien or something, not being able to say a word. Your throat was dry, you were sure you had lost the ability of talking. “Have you forgotten how to talk, pretty one?” He sniggered and bold but gently placed a strand of your hair behind your ear with his free hand. You shivered and almost leaned into the touch. “I remember you having such an endearing voice,” and just like that you finally let your body respond and blushed, taking a deep breath while starting to move away from him “I’m sorry, I didn’t see yo–”

“Cut that off, sweetheart," he let you go, making sure you were stable on your feet. You missed the warmth of his body on yours right away. Also you took your time to appreciate his clothing. The deep red shirt with white stripes covered with a black jacket looked too good on him. "I’m worried our encounters will keep happening like this. You might end up getting hurt for real,” the concerned tone did not go unnoticed, even mixed with the teasing-flirtatious one.

Your eyes wandered his face quickly before you let out a chuckle and diverted your attention away. You decided to ignore the buzzing sound of your phone as you put it inside your purse. “That wouldn’t be fun, would it?”, you said.

“Definitely not,” you looked back at him, caughting the shining eyes staring at you already like all he had down his sight was you. “A beautiful face like yours cannot be hurt, am I right?” And again there was that too attractive sly smile adorning his lips. You decided to smile back but shyly yet unable to hold the visual contact for more than a few seconds, cheeks still reddened. 

“I don’t know you enough to say that but you seem a bit… off”, he was now looking at you with his gleaming puppy eyes, head slightly tilted to the side. “Yeah, I might be a little bit tipsy.”

Normally you would be mad at the fact the small amount of wine was hitting that hard, blaming your weakness towards alcohol for making you feel kinda dizzy and too bold for your own good – you internally debated if that dizzines came from the alcohol or from other sources, like the very good looking man standing in front of you.

Still you thanked the fearless feeling running through your veins at that very moment, otherwise where would you find enough courage to say what you said next?

“Are you down to get some lamen at some random convenience store with me?”, you had no idea what your words could mean to him and honestly weren’t expecting much, but as soon as his face lit up like you told him he won a good amount of money, you felt victorious. “Is this your way of flirting? Because if it is, it’s working on me.” 

“That’s good to know, nameless boy”, you scoffed with a seductively undertone, the little smirk on your lips and your now boldness to maintain eye contact making him laugh as a failed attempt to hide his flustered self. The next moment you both were greeting each other with a quick handshake after he offered his hand to you. “I’m Jake”.

The hallway boy finally got a name, and not only that, you were now sure of his existence.

Sitting on a bench at the little shop you managed to find, the angry owner’s expression facing you two was as clear as crystal water and got you thinking if you were being too loud. Without caring much you just let it be, since being with Jake apparently meant you will be noisy eventually. It was not necessarily his fault, the both of you just shared too many common interests that made it difficult not to get overly excited during the conversation. 

It all began with just a normal “no way you like this flavor!” – with a very strong Australian accent from his side – and since then the flow went smoothly. His company had been greatly enjoyable so far and you let yourself be more and more comfortable about sharing some self information.

For example at some point you discovered he was a physics student, and with that you instantly shared about your love for the moon – also the lack of acknowledgement about it. You explained that you were affectionate to the moon because of its beauty, shining brightly in the sky even when behind heavy clouds. Looking at it always made you feel somehow free, especially when some breeze hits your body simultaneously. 

Jake carefully listened to you with fond eyes and after you finished, he started to explain a bit of theory to you, sounding too smart. He looked very attractive saying words you didn’t even know the meaning behind and you noticed you were paying way too much attention to the way his charming lips were moving as he did so. 

And just like that you traveled around many subjects. You being more emotional and Jake more rational, respectfully giving each other the chance to speak, constantly but easily finding ways to match one’s energy. You finally felt heard that night. And one of the topics being, of course, the whole date situation.

“Ok, so what you’re telling me is that this Jay guy told you about his whole financial status, which I admit makes me kinda envious, and you still managed to end up here with me at some very random convenience store eating cheap lamen?”, he shook off the empty package of said lamen, staring at you with an amusement look.

“Yep,” you nodded, slurping the last bite of your food. “And also I called him stupid.” 

“At his face,” he completed the very important piece of information, finishing his food as well. Jake licking his lips to clean it up didn’t go unnoticed by you. “I swear if I was Jay I would be crying right now,” he stated as a fact and you groaned.

“Don’t make me feel bad for him, please,” you uttered with a whine and he laughed at you, his eyes turning into little crescents as he did so. “I swear he was nice and prolly had good intentions, but y’know…” you left unfinished, but Jake concluded for you. “He bragged about diamonds hoping you would fall for him or something.”

You furrowed your eyebrows and shook your head before drinking the last sip of your soda, “yeah, definitely not my type.”

Jake decided to restrain the urge of asking what your type would be, a little afraid he was off league. “Well, at least you got on a date with me,” he sneered. You chuckled. 

“I knew I would hit my pretty face directly on your so toned chest when I walked out that date,” you said sarcastically and then added “that’s why I decided to go in the first place.”

You were feeling way better now, belly full of good food that really pleased your taste buds and not drunk anymore, although you still let the boldness command your words through the talking once and while. You found out that behind Jake’s flirtatious and teasing way of speaking to you, there was also a very sheepish boy that would get flustered from time to time, like right now. He laughed off and drank the rest of his soda in order to run away from your very sharp but playful eyes.

Jake was so entertained by you. The way you expressed yourself so cheerfully and vibrantly. Whenever some topic of your liking was on the track your eyes would instantly get an almost childish sparkle as your hands motioned in a very exciting way and your detailed explanations would be voiced out.

Also he discovered you were a lot more confident than he thought you could be. He would be lying if he said he wasn’t liking this side of yours, audaciously flirting with him whenever you got the chance to do so, without holding back your bold responses. The feeling of the top of his ears burning knowing they were very much red was starting to become common for him. He did not had to know that you not only noticed his reactions, but was loving every minute.

Despite that, he tried to keep his cool.

“What are you up to after here, sugar?”, Jake asked forcing a nonchalantly tone while playing with the rings adorning his fingers, and yet again you were forced to remember the fucking cute pet names that got you flushed everytime he dared to say them. You looked away for a bit before answering.

“I don’t know, maybe go home… Watch some videos until I fall asleep”, you shrugged. Early on that day you weren’t expecting to find yourself in a situation like that, actually the whole program was to get “dicked down” – as Chaewon worded. However, you weren't disappointed either with how the evening turned out to be.

“Come on, Y/N,” your name went out too smoothly on Jake’s plumpy lips, his honeyed voice never failing to make you flutter slightly. Still you tried to keep your composure. “It’s friday and you’re wearing such a beautiful dress to what? To go home, watch videos and sleep?” He mocked the last part and you chuckled before lazily smiling in his direction, fully facing him. You recognized the tiredness starting to consume your body slowly which did not go unnoticed by Jake. Your tinted cheeks from the compliment also did not go unnoticed by him.

“And what would you recommend me to do, Jakey?”

“Jakey?” He raised an eyebrow, liking the way you pronounced the nickname a bit too much, thinking it was definitely something he could grow used to.

You just kept smiling, looking up at him through your eyelashes. You perceived how close on the seat you both were as if a magnet pulled you two together through that night, your bare shoulder slightly brushing against his clothed one from time to time.

“To be honest I just wanted an excuse to point out how gorgeous you are in this dress,” he licked his bottom lip as a habit while you didn’t even have the chance to properly receive the compliment, Jake being too smooth with it. “I don’t have any good recommendations, but if you’re down we c–”

The sound of your phone ringing interrupted Jake’s possible plans, making both of you startle. You saw Yunjin’s name on the screen and wondered whether to answer or not.

“Aren’t you gonna pick up?” Jake asked with curiosity. 

“Actually, yes I will,” you remembered you left your friends hanging on your texts and have been unintentionally ignoring them, so it was only fair to give a quick update just to make them sure you are still alive. 

“Hi baby”, you picked up the call with a smile, hearing a very drunk Yunjin on the other side. “No, I’m not home yet”, Jake watched as you talked on your phone with a neutral expression. He himself feeling a bit worried with the usage of nicknames and with your cute tone towards the person.

He knew you just went out on a date, assuming that you were at least looking to have some fun, however that fact should not be enough to stop you from being unavailable. Jake thought that a pretty girl like you probably already had a love interest in line.

“Don’t worry, Jinnie. You don’t have to come pick me up”, you glanced over at Jake who was now paying too much attention to the table in front of him, lost in his own mind and also trying to give you some privacy. You grinned, “I’m not alone.” Jake accidentally heard a very loud “WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU’RE NOT ALONE?” through your phone and had to hold back a laugh. “I’m with… Someone,” you kept your eyes on him as you spoke to Yunjin, grabbing his attention when you indirectly mentioned his presence. “I’ll talk to you later, yeah?” and then you ended the call with a “Love you, bye.”

“I didn’t mean to hear it, but I’m intrigued…” you knew where Jake was going with that, so you just kept your smile. “‘Someone’, huh?” He said with a smirk, clearly messing with you. 

You turned your head to someplace else because no matter how bold you can be sometimes, the following line that you let out made you hesitate a bit beforehand.

“Well, in my defense I don’t plan to introduce you to my friends through my phone, let alone as a mere guy I just met,” although you tried to keep your cheekily tone, it was obvious how shy you were feeling, gazing briefly at Jake’s direction as you said.

Jake hadn’t noticed until now that he was holding his breath a little, relievedly letting it out as he watched your pretty face and expressions. Regardless, the whole phrase made his head spin, replacing previous thoughts with new, more intense ones, all at once. What do you mean by that?

“Then how are you planning to introduce me?” he boldly questioned leaning towards you a little in order to find a way to look you in the eye again, finding adorable your demeanor right now breaking every little eye contact way too quickly. 

You giggled.

Jake thought he had just found his favorite sound in the world.

“We’ll see, Jakey.” 

Jake rode you home.

He noticed how lazy your hooded eyes started to look and decided to end the “date” instead of taking you to somewhere else, which you particularly found endearing. The bar was low, you admitted to yourself, but a cute guy being considerate for your entertainment other than just leading you anywhere else for his own amusement made your heart flutter. 

However, the moment he offered to take you home you immediately refused, emphasizing that he didn't need to worry and that you would not let him waste gas for nothing. The reply he gave was a not so subtle “I don’t care”, alongside with “I’ll not let you freeze outside waiting for a cab and I don’t trust you enough to let you borrow my jacket for tonight,” making you laugh at his little mischievous tone, especially because as soon as you both were in his car he put his black jacket on your shoulders.

“I thought you don’t trust me enough to have it?” You referred to the jacket, feeling too inebriated by its smell. 

“There's a big difference between leaving it to you alone without knowing if you'll ever hand me back and letting you have it under my watch, sweetheart.” His smug face looked too charming as he spoke and the damn sweetheart again got to you with ease. You chuckled while watching the street lights passing by. 

The ride was calmer than you expected. The radio played on some random station working as a beautiful background to the soft words exchanged between you two. You noticed Jake’s attractive side profile as he focused on the road rambling some physics thing in a very excited way. Your body felt too tired to keep any thoughts on track, leading you to just listen to his sweet voice embracing you mildly until you both arrived in front of your apartment building.

Of course he didn’t let you open the door and also helped you to get out. The touch of his warm hand under yours sended a shiver down your spine. 

“Thank you for the ride, Jake,” you said with a gentle smile.

“My pleasure, sugar,” your cheeks reddened hard as you started to take off his jacket. “You don’t have to,” he shook his hand in front of him, refusing to get the clothing piece back. You looked at him with a stunned-confused expression, lips parted a bit. Before you could even protest he interrupted you. “I need an excuse to see you again, right?” And send you a wink.

As if he said just a normal thing, he confidently got back to his car, letting behind a very flustered you. 

Little did you know how shaky his hands rested on the wheel as he drove off, looking forward to meeting you again.

Of course you had to spend your whole weekend waiting for Monday to come – a peculiar behavior you admitted to yourself. But neither you nor Jake got each other's phone number so all you could do was to wait and hope for the best. You didn’t even know if you would meet him again at the campus because you searched for him nonstop the last few days and never got the chance to do so, making you regret even more about not getting any information about where to find him.

His jacket rested on your desk chair as you deeply stared at the little stars adorning your bedroom ceiling. Stars that remembered how shiny Jake’s eyes looked when he started to talk about Theory of relativity or anything like that. You also remember paying just enough attention to understand and to keep the talking flow, focusing more on the way his lips moved as doing so.

You groaned, rolling on your bed sheets. How long a weekend can be? You were acting like a teenager for having a crush on a stranger! You knew little to no things about Jake. You knew his age – one year older than you, you knew his majoring and you also found out the reason behind him being at your campus block – he had to deliver some paperwork to a friend of his. But other than some common interests and his music taste, that was it. 

Was him a good person? He showed you a good personality for sure, to the point your heart sank with the idea of losing all that excitement to see him again just because he’s good looking and has a great talk. Still you kept questioning yourself. What if he was the player type? Just hitting for one night stand and that’s it?

Monday morning arrived but you did not had enough time to develop any more thoughts when you got to the university. As soon as you reached it, Chaewon and Yunjin flooded you with a very long investigation about what the hell happened that friday.

Talking in person was always an option for the three of you, the feeling of looking eye to eye and reading each other's expressions was more interesting than having to guess it over a phone or video call. Normally you three would pick a place to go and have a little "friends date" and talk about the stuff that happened for hours. However this time you choose to use the excuse you were busy studying, having too many assignments left behind which neither of them bought it from you.

“So Jay sucks?” Chaewon asked. “I don’t like putting it like that,” you murmured. “But yeah, we just didn’t hit it off, y’know?” You just shrugged.

You three were walking towards the class you shared that morning, not caring much about being a little late. 

“Baby, you’re too nice,” Yunjin hugged you sideways and smiled at you. “You can say a man is stupid.”

“Actually I did,” you smiled mischievously and they both looked at you with shocked expressions. “Not my proudest moment, but I said it to his face. Unintentionally, I swear!”  

Chaewon and Yunjin broke down the shocked expressions to laugh out loud with the idea of you calling your failed date a stupid right to his face.

 “And what’s with the jacket?” Yunjin questioned when you stopped to grab your things from your locker.

She knew every clothing piece you had as if it was hers because of your constant need for help in terms of putting together what you like, and even though the jacket looked good on you, definitely wasn't part of your wardrobe. 

“It’s Jake’s, I’m planning to send it back to him today.” 

They already knew about Jake, but not too much. You shared a little through texts not wanting to fill too much of their expectations. Knowing your two best friends, they would go crazy if you detailed your night out.

They both exchanged glances before Chaewon spoke “If he really exists.”

You rolled your eyes playfully, picking up all you needed from your locker before answering. “He does. And he’s… pretty nice.” You tried your best not to sound too whipped at that time, especially because you were still worrying if he would be loyal to his words or if the whole talk about meeting you again was just a big bluff. 

But apparently one thing about Jake it’s that he can counter you with ease. As if you summoned his presence, the honeyed voice that you didn’t realize until now you missed hearing, said from behind you. 

“Hey, pretty one.” your head snapped to the direction faster than you would like to admit, meeting the beautiful plump lips turned into a little smile. He looked you up and down, checking on you. “I don’t think I’ll need the jacket back. You look better on it anyway.” His eyes were locked at you, and only you. You had to remind yourself to breathe, because, God Jake was so hot. 

That day he opted to wear just a normal white shirt with dark jeans and black shoes. At first he thought about really getting his jacket back, because you didn’t know that but that jacket was his favorite. But as soon as he put his eyes on you and noticed how cute you looked with his clothing piece seeming too big like an oversized one, he gave up.

“H-hi,” you damned yourself for stuttering, being fully aware that your friends looked as astonished as you at that moment, but for different reasons. You started to get the jacket off your body by saying “Of course I have to give it bac–”, he shushed you with his index finger before you could finish and your eyes widened, making you stop all your movements.

“Don’t worry, I meant it when I say you look good on it,” you gulped as you nodded speechless. “Here,” he handed you a little paper and your shaky hands took it, you saw numbers written. “It’s my number, you can text me whenever, yeah?” He licked his lips suddenly feeling nervous.

Apparently being around you was an easy break of his flirtatious self. However, he forced himself on this one and said “I gotta go now, I’m kinda late,” he ruffled your hair gently before leaning close to whispering on your left ear, lips lightly touching your skin “See you around, sugar.”

You immediately choked on your own saliva, your cheeks burning like hell, fully unable to say a word. “And bye to you both as well!” Jake referred to the girls as he started to run down the corridor to his own campus building. 

“Bye!” both Yunjin and Chaewon said in unison. You had to blink twice before realizing what just happened. “Girl!!!” Yunjin screamed and you noticed Chaewon covering her mouth as well. “What the fuck?!?!” 

“I–” you tried saying anything but you couldn’t, not only because of your own brain turning into mush, but because your friends were way too hyped and interrupted you. 

“The way he looked at you?”

“THE PET NAMES!!!”

“‘Pretty one’!? He so down bad, what the actual fuck?”

“And he’s cute as hell!!!”

You were overwhelmed with all of that, walking just because the two girls were forcing you to move forward while keeping squealing about Jake's actions. 

“I know that nose can do wonders,” Yunjin said cheekily as soon as you sat in your class seats and you immediately turned to look at her with a terrified expression.

“Huh Yunjin!!!”, you smacked her shoulder with wide eyes and she just laughed together with Chaewon. 

As your ordinary Monday normally would go, you were now sitting under a tree reading the latest book your teacher assigned for an assignment. You always loved to take a break from the library and to literally touch some grass, using your free time to catch up with all the paperwork you needed.

A shadow approached you, blocking the sunlight and catching your attention. You didn’t expect to see Jake hovering over you. With a raised eyebrow, you asked. “Are you following me?”

“No, I just missed you.” He ironized, taking a seat near you and looking at your book. “You’re such a nerd,” he mimicked your position, so his head was also resting on the tree behind you two but he was facing you. Too close. 

You nervously gulped before saying, “Yeah, cuz I’m the one who likes to show myself off to a girl talking about Theory of relativity and other physical terms”, you sounded too sarcastic and instantly felt bad. “I’m not complaining, by the way,” you whispered looking away, part of you hoping for him not to hear but due to the proximity he obviously heard. And smiled.

Jake was afraid you could hear his heartbeats at that moment. Your side profile enchanted him in ways he could not describe. Your shy little smile got him thinking if it would be too weird to take a picture to have it with him forever.

He looked away, enjoying the silence.

“It’s very calm over here,” he said in a deep low voice, resting his chin on his knee. You took advantage of him not facing you anymore and watched him as he watched other people wander around, almost forgetting to say something back.

“Yeah, I like it here because it’s always calm like this,” he looked back at you when you talked. You forced yourself to keep eye contact for as long as you could, trying your best to ignore your burning cheeks. 

Jake looked away. You noticed he was flustered too. 

“And what about you, Jakey?” The little nickname spilling out your mouth like sugar, he almost melted. “Isn’t your campus like a few blocks from here?”

He chuckled, “Yeah, but I’ve got like an hour to spare before my next class.” You hummed. “So I decided to come over and thought I could maybe bump into you again,” he slyly smiled at you. You laughed at the term he used. 

“But I can go away if you want me to, sweetheart.”

You instantly shook off your head and almost grabbed his arm as if trying to stop him from getting up. “You can stay.”

“Okay.”

And he did. 

There was a brief silence moment before you plucked up the courage to ask. “What’s with the pet names?”

“You don’t like them?”

The worried puppy eyes he gave you almost broke your heart. “It’s not that… It’s just, y'know…”, you shrugged, trying to find the right way to put it. “Do you use them with everyone?”

You needed to know. You noticed Jake shuffling on his seat a bit, as if he was uncomfortable. And well, he wasn't fully comfortable either. There was no good explanation to why he called you all of that, and no, he didn’t use pet names with no other people but you. He dated two other girls before and of course called them cute pet names while being with them, but now you were the only one on his mind since the first encounter and he could not help it.

Jake was a believer of “love at first sight”, however he understood the necessity of getting to know the other person if he wanted to build something with them and never really got carried away with the primary delusional feeling.

With you he was kinda different. He let his flirtatious side shine way more easily than he would normally do. When he noticed how cute the girl who bumped on his chest that day was, he just let it all out. Little did you know that his first instinct of flirting with you was due to his nervousness. 

Now he would be down to a one night stand type of thing if you wanted to, but didn’t sound right to do so. You looked too precious to him. He wanted to be close to you and get to know every single piece of you before anything. He wanted to know your likings, interests and overall personality.

He could let himself fall in love with you.

Immersed in his own thoughts, he didn’t even realize he had become quiet and left you hanging kinda in a compromised position.

“You know what? Forget it,” you shook it off, feeling embarrassed. It wasn't like he owes you any explanation about his life or what he does with it. If he decided to play with your feelings, then you should know your position of not falling for it. “Tell me something very nerdy about your area,” you asked brightly. “I’ve got a few minutes still.”

You noticed how bold you became around Jake. Apparently that's how it worked between you two. 

He would be the one starting the whole thing, making you get too flustered for your own good with the cute names and shameless flirting, until he breaks out the character for a few seconds, enough for you to be the audacious one and make him blush.

At some point you started to get used to Jake’s presence in your everyday life. Both of you would constantly reach for the other during free time just to hang out, and sometimes to grab some food together. Yet you never let him get too close, fearing that you would let yourself get too attached to the feeling. You made it a rule not to fall for him and you’ve been holding on so far, even with Jake making it way too difficult. 

Jake was sweet, caring and not afraid to express his feelings when he needed to. Not only that but he also would remember little details about you, like your favorite coffee order or the fact that you can only listen to the first half of a song because you think the rest sucks – Jake always skips it when playing on his car radio. 

He got along with your friends easily as he’s a well spoken person as well, and even introduced you to his own friends. You met Heeseung and Sunghoon, the last one being a classmate of Jake while Heeseung studied music, both older than you. You found out that Heeseung was the said friend who made Jake wander around your campus causing the whole bumping-into-each-other situation and it became an inside joke among all of you.

Jake made it normal to ask you out from time to time within the excuse that both of you were overwhelmed with the university duties and deserved to see the outside world.

So after today’s classes you walked down the parking lot after receiving a text from him saying he would take you to a place – he refused to tell you where you were going. 

He was already waiting for you, being too attractive as he leaned against his car while looking at something on his phone. Your heart started to pump fast in your chest, making you take a few deep breaths beforehand. 

“Hey,” you greeted when you got closer and he glanced over at you, immediately opening a big smile and embracing you in a hug.

“Hi, gorgeous,” you took your sweet time to feel the warmth of his body and perfume. “Ready to go?” 

You moved back from the hug and watched as he opened the door car for you.

“Mhm, but you got me extra curious, so I’m having high expectations,” you tried to exaggerate in your words in order to get a little hint, but of course Jake was already getting immune to your tricks at this point so he just laughed.

“I’m sure you’ll like it, sweetheart.”

You settled yourself in his car, feeling way too comfortable with the amount of time you already spended there with him as you threw your bag on the backseats and chose the song for the trip. 

Jake dared you to show him your favorite songs every time you two drove together, but you wanted to get to know his music taste as well so you two decided to alternate who chose the songs for that day. And it was your turn.

“Paramore for today, huh?” He pointed out with a small smile.

“Yeah, you don’t like it?” 

“I love it.”

One of the reasons your heart beat fast when around Jake was the freedom to be yourself and just do whatever you wanted to do, without even noticing you caused the same to him with your charming behavior. Every time he stopped at a red light he would look at you bobbing your head and lip syncing to the lyrics excitedly while doing a little dance. 

He tried his best to not show how dearing he was looking at you, but you caught the cute brown eyes facing your side from time to time and the only reaction from both of you was to look away and blush. 

As the conversation flowed, he shared a bit of his day to you, telling about how stressed he has been because of his study partner being a pain in his ass, and the only hint of where you were going he let out was “And because of that, I need to de-stress and that’s why we goin’ where we goin’”. 

You pouted and forced the best puppy eye you could while looking at his direction. He almost broke out. “You’re mean. You don’t make a girl curious like that.”

“Don’t worry, we are almost there.”

You gave up trying to figure out where you were going and hoped for the best. You knew that with Jake nothing could be bad, because his presence alone was enough. 

Jake felt similar to you, not admitting out loud that just the fact that you were with him already reduced a lot of his stress. You may not know that but everyday he was eagerly waiting for the moment you both would meet during the day, and when you couldn't find time to do so, he was thrilled to receive a simple text from you.

Your presence was enough to make him happy.

It didn't take longer than a few songs for you to arrive at the place you instantly recognized as a beach.

“A beach?” You sounded excited, but also a bit confused. You don’t think you have clothes to enter the water and the sun was already starting to set, so you didn’t get much of his idea at first.

Jake parked the car and as usual, he opened the door for you. “Yep. I know it’s kinda late for a swim or anything like that, but it wasn’t planning to do anyways,” he helped you to get out.

Normally he would let your hand go as soon as you felt stable on your feet after leaving the car, but that day he decided to hold your hand as he gently pulled you in the direction he wanted to take you.

You said nothing. How could you? The slender fingers holding yours had broken you down. The air felt thick in your airways as you walked alongside him, heart beating louder and louder while you watched the beautiful view of the sun finding its way down the horizon. The cold breeze hit your face and brought so much peace to your inner self. You could live forever like that.

Jake suddenly stopped walking and since you were a bit behind him, you bumped slightly at his back, hands still together. You looked over his shoulder and gasped. The place you two were now had a better view of the sunsetting and the waves calmly hitting the rocks sounded way too heavenly.

You blinked slowly, reluctantly letting Jake hand go as you walked a bit forward. Behind you, he watched as your hair flew due the breeze.

"It's so pretty..." you uttered under your breath, mesmerized by the look of the orange and pinkish colored sky. You felt like crying. 

He took a few steps and glanced at your serene expression. 

While you enjoyed the view, Jake enjoyed you.

"Yeah, very pretty."

You had no clue of how fast Jake’s heart was beating right now. He was hypnotized by you, a sudden urge to kiss you building up his mind right away. 

“I now understand why you come here to de-stress”, you said after a while, the sound of your sweet voice bringing him back to reality. He had literally lost himself on you at that very moment. 

You lazily smiled, feeling extra calm and glanced at Jake, who was already looking at you with soft eyes.

“Thank you, Jakey,” you hugged him sincerely. “For bringing me here and for being here with me. I needed that.”

Jake sighed, hugging you tightly. At this point there was no way he could hide the thump-thump in his chest, and honestly? He stopped caring if you noticed or not. 

He stopped caring if you noticed he was – not so slowly – falling for you. 

It was a stressful week for you, not only were you on your period but also dealing with a bunch of deadlines. You considered throwing yourself in front of a bus when you realized how left behind you were in your assignments. Your finals getting closer and closer didn’t help either.

For good and long days you almost locked yourself at the library in order to catch up with everything, because even with the help of some friends that shared the classes with you you were barely holding on.

Jake would appear out of nowhere and give you a cup of warm coffee, some muffins and a little kiss on your forehead before heading out and letting you do your thing.

“I just wanna make sure you’re eating well, princess,” he would say every time. And no matter how lovingly his actions would be, you couldn't allow yourself to feel them because of your anxiety of failure.

And yes, ever since you asked about the nicknames and stuff he started to use them more often than your heart could handle, especially after he discovered that you liked them, even if you didn't admit it out loud.

Friday arrived. You wished you could get excited about going out to the little party Jake said Heeseung would be throwing that evening, but you needed a good night of sleep and your whole body was aching due to your period. You just wanted to sink on your bed sheets after taking a hot shower.

One thing that became normal in your life was getting a ride with Jake some days of the week, unfortunately he didn’t have any classes on fridays so you just had to walk your way home. You took your sweet time to feel the cold autumn breeze hit you on the face hoping it would take away all your stress. The buzzling sound of your phone caught your attention as you saw Jake’s text on its display.

Jakey 🐶:  Hey there princess It’s been three days since I last saw you and I’m ngl, I kinda miss your pretty face lol I hope you’re doing well I left you a little smth at your apartment.  At the door, ofc Don’t freak out, I didn’t stole your keys or broke into your house or smth Please, don’t stress yourself too much <3 And dw, I’m not mad you’re not going to the party Have a good rest, pretty girl. AND PLEASE don’t forget to eat!!!!

You almost cried reading all of that and blamed your hormones for being a mess of feelings. 

You: Hi Jakey!!  Kinda miss you too you left something to me? i’m kinda scared I’m dealing with cramps rn so I’m not so fine, but I’ll eventually, dw! And yeah, I’ll make sure to eat and rest well enjoy your night, pretty boy <3

You noticed you felt much braver through texts than in person, but this was the first time you were the one using a nickname so you were shaking a bit.

Jakey 🐶: AJDKSSJDJS SORRy I Yeah, uhm No need to be scared, princess, I’m sure you’ll like it  Cramps? Take on some medicine, please!! Do u want me to come over? Are u home yet?

He sounded so desperate and nervous that genuinely made you laugh out loud. But with a simple text back saying “no, you go enjoy your night out and I’ll enjoy my bed” you finished the conversation as you finally arrived home. 

Near your apartment’s doormat, there was a pretty bouquet of daisies alongside a little box of chocolates. You noticed a little hand note inside the bouquet. 

“I remember you saying you like these flowers and everyday I pass by a flower shop and always think about buying it for you, so today I finally did. There’s chocolate too. Hope you like it.

Have a good rest, princess.

Jake”

You took a deep breath in order to hold back the tears trying to escape. Not falling for Jake was a difficult rule to follow, and you didn’t know if you wanted to keep doing it anymore.

“So what you're telling me is that Jake left his house on a fucking Sunday morning and brought you ice cream because you... were feeling too lazy to go buy it yourself?”

“When you put it like that…” 

Chaewon, Yunjin and you were sitting at one of the furthest tables in the cafeteria that you usually went to when the three of you wanted to gossip or just meet to catch things up. It was a late afternoon on a Tuesday and you barely had time to see them in the last few days, mainly because you had missed a few classes to finish reading other teachers' required books.

“The real question is: why aren’t both of you dating already?” 

Yunjin was flabbergasted by what you were describing about Jake. There’s no way that guy wasn’t in love with you at this point. She didn't understand what was taking you so long to ask him out already, especially because she noticed that Jake was kinda holding himself back.

“Yeah! He follows you like a little puppy and looks at you like you are a goddess or something!” Chaewon added. “I mean, you are a goddess, but to get someone to look at you like that?!”

“Girl, you gotta bag him ASAP!” Yunjin playfully pushed your shoulder, but you weren't feeling that happy about all of it.

You sighed. “But what if I’m just a fun little game to him?”

“What?!” It was funny the way both of them said in unison, but instead of laughing you just continued with a sad voice tone.

“Y’know, he’s been flirting with me since the very beginning. I don’t know. Part of me believes his words and actions, they seem genuine. But the other part is way too afraid of trusting too much,” a single tear ran down your cheek as you frowned. “I don’t want to be hurt again.” You whispered as you looked down. 

“Baby,” Yunjin, who was sitting next to you, hugged you sideways and planted a sweet little kiss on top of your head. “We know you’ve been through a lot of shit because of your stupid ex, but I don’t think Jake’s like that.”

Chaewon, who was in front of you, took your hand in hers as she spoke. “Yeah, and you know, If he tries something or if he dares to break your heart, you’ll always have me to make his life a living hell.”

You smiled through the tears running down all over your face. With a reassuring look, Yunjin asked. 

“Give it a try, yeah?”

Jake knew what he was getting himself into. He would be fine if you put him in the friendship side, but the thought of having you to himself pleased him way too much. The idea of other guys touching you the ways he wanted to, knowing that none of them would treat you right, consumed his mind as much as the vision of your pretty smile. 

The urge of getting physically closer to you was itching him incessantly. 

Ever since he discovered that he was in fact falling in love with you, he became unable to get you out of his head. It was like a kind of mantra that chanted your name every time he saw something that reminded him of you, and almost everything reminded him of you.

He didn't had the courage to ask you out on a proper date so far, because even though the both of you had developed an incredibly nice friendship, he was too afraid that he was seeing beyond reality because of his delusional self, and more than that he was scared as hell of losing you. 

You probably only thought of him as a friend who you could playfully flirt with, he would say to himself. At the same time, the way he sometimes caught you looking at him seemed much more loving than it should.

There seemed to be more love than friendship in that relationship of yours. 

He was also having to deal with the hard job of avoiding kissing you. Recently he found himself getting lost on your lips too often. A dangerous play. Still he kept you as close as he could, hugging you or having at least one of his arms around your shoulder or waist in order to fulfill a bit of his neediness. 

Thinking about you and only you, he sighed, finishing his business at his locker, finally reaching the book he was looking for and placing it in his backpack. 

"Ok, quick question", Jake almost screamed at your sudden appearance when he closed the metal door, widening his eyes and dramatically putting a hand on his chest. You laughed. 

"Firstly, what are you doing here?” He said after catching his breath. “Secondly, why do you like to scare me so much?", he kinda whined and you laughed.

"I just wanted to know if your name is really Jake or if it's a nickname", you smiled innocently. Jake on the other side of the hand didn't buy your "pure" expression, glancing at you with a raised eyebrow.

"Why would you run all the way through here just to ask about my full name, which I’m pretty sure you already know?" He wasn't buying any of that.

"Because I wanna manifest you in my life," you answered like it was obvious and you both began to walk side by side. You were going to be very late to your class but your professor has to understand that sometimes you have more important things to do other than attend classes.

"I thought I was already in your life...?" Jake was trully confused.

"Yeah, but I kinda wanna you in my life more than just what you are right now.”

"What are you talking about, Y/N?" Saying your name was an indicator that either he was serious or very confused, either way you didn't care much so you just carried on with your talking. 

“Go on a date with me.” He stopped walking and so did you. Jake looked at you, blinking without saying a word. "On a date, you know,” you motioned with your hands, losing a bit of the courage you had to build up to do all of that. “We go to someplace, grab some food, wait for the night to fall down and boom, stargazing while we talk about our amazing theories of life or whatever.”

Jake gulped, scratching the back of his neck nervously. Normally he would be the one programming the whole thing and just saying you are both heading to somewhere, but to have you asking like that… If he understood it right, you were asking him to go on a real date.

"Sounds like something we already do." He let out a breathy and nervous laugh, still trying to thoroughly understand what you were saying, looking if there was some kind of joke hidden behind your eyes. 

You looked extra attractive today, as if you dressed yourself up just for this moment. Just for him. He noticed you were wearing his jacket as well.

"It pretty much is, but at the end of this one I want to be able to kiss you,” you said in one go. “On the lips, if it's not clear."

Jake now was more speechless and completely baffled than ever. He was sure he was dreaming. It became normal routine for him to dream of you lately so of course this was all a trick of his own mind trying to compensate for his neediness of you. 

He was so fucking dreaming.

With the lack of response, you thought you fucked up. 

“I-I’m sorry, I–”, you started as you felt your confidence running away from you immediately. “Just forget about what I just said, I should not have said anything to begin with. I’m so sorry, ok?” You noticed your hands trembling. Due to your nervousness, everything you had on the back of your mind just went out. “I don't know what I was thinking when I decided to come here and try to take our relationship to a next level or something. But it's been so hard to be around you without wanting you even closer,” you whined. “And I finally got the courage to ask you out on a proper date, but you clearly don't see us like that so forget about it. I’m sor–”

No one. Not a single soul could prepare you to be silenced by Jake’s lips on yours. His hand automatically grabbed your waist as yours went to rest on his chest.

Kissing in the middle of the university hallway wasn’t the ideal way of tasting each other's for the first time so Jake decided to not take too long on holding the contact, breaking it to say “I’m sorry, I needed you to shut up.” His lips brushed on yours as he spoke. You blinked twice and breathed heavily, feeling the touch of his warm hand on your skin as he cupped one of your cheeks. You looked for his brown honeyed orbs, catching them exchanging glances between your lips and your eyes. 

 “We can go out on a date,” he brushed his thumb softly on your bottom lip. “The one where we go to some place, grab some food, do whatever you want and I can properly kiss you.”

Jake was fighting demons not to kiss you again. He was absolutely certain he would go crazy, just a little taste of you and he already felt like he was starving, his body totally dependent and reactive because of you. 

“Okay,” your voice was barely a whisper and you had to use all your strength to stop yourself from leaning in to feel his touch again. Instead, you reluctantly pulled away, immediately missing all of his touches; you felt your skin tingle in every place he had touched you. Still his hand rested on your waist, unable to let you go. “I gotta go,” you noticed how his eyes wandered all over your face, like he was taking a picture with it in order to save it from the rest of the day.

You smiled, hesitantly sliding your hands away from his chest. 

“Alright, sweetheart,” before you could let him go, he grabbed one of your hands and planted a gentle kiss at the back of it. “I’ll text you later then?”

“I’m looking forward to it.”

You had to hold a scream when you heard your doorbell ringing. Chaewon and Yunjin who were in a shared video call squealed for you.

They looked more excited than yourself and you really appreciated the effort they took to help you out even with their busy schedule for the day, deciding to call you not only because they knew you would be nervous as fuck but also because Yunjin was willing to help you with your outfit choice.

You ended up wearing something cute, but cozy and warm: a matching pair of a top and long loose skirt, patterned with a black background and some stars and moons, a black boot and as a final touch: Jake’s big jacket. You also did a little hairstyle with two small braids at the front and the rest of your hair loose. 

Yunjin noticed how confident you were in choosing the clothing and even doing your hair, showing that you didn’t need much of her help – which normally she would dramatically react to, but today she just felt proud and happy for you.

Jake made you comfortable enough to be yourself whenever you were with him.

And you were going on a date with him.

A fucking proper date.

You said a quick ‘goodbye’ to your girls who replied with a very high pitched ‘good luck!’ and then hung up, walking towards the door and needing to take a few deep breaths before opening it.

As you did, you greeted a very smiley – and hot – Jake.

He was glowing. 

Not only was his face glowing but he seemed overall confident. He was wearing a reddish flannel jacket that covered an oversized black shirt together with his everyday silver necklace, jeans and black boots. A perfect combo, especially to you who loved to see a man in red – you once told him about this preference of yours and was questioning if he did it on purpose.

The silky brown strands fell perfectly in place again when Jake ran his hand through it and licked his lips after shamelessly checking you out.

“Hi b– Oh my god, you look stunning.”

Early the day through your texts you decided to go simple but special on the planning due lack of time. The whole idea was kinda in a hurry, but after getting to taste a little of how it is to kiss Jake, you needed the action of kissing him to become an everyday routine as soon as possible, so the initial plan – the date will be happening on a chill day for both of you, mostly likely Friday – was replaced by a very eagerly “Ok, I’m taking you to a place” said by you.

“And you look hot,” the wording flew out your mouth faster than you expected and instantly your eyes went wide.

Jake smirked as he leaned into the door frame. “Appreciate it, baby.”

Baby.

You were so fucked up. There’s no way your heart could handle this the whole night. 

Jake noticed the way you just blinked at him without saying a word and he just knew you were absorbing the whole situation before becoming confident over him. It was the way you worked and he loved that. 

So he decided to take his sweet time and take a bit of advantage over your flustered self as he walked closer to you. “I brought what you asked,” he sounded a bit too sexy saying such simple words and little did you know that he deepened his voice a bit just for fun.

Due to the closeness, Jake scented your perfume and swore he was getting drunk, too intoxicated by your sweet smell.

You looked at the bag he lifted and nodded, fully in a trance. You forced yourself to snap out of it as you reminded yourself you have a fucking date and finally spoke “Oh, right. I’ll go pick up what I’ve prepared for us!” You walked towards the kitchen. “Do you want anything? Water maybe?”

“Just you.”

You choked on your own saliva as your cheeks started to burn. You foolishly thought that at least Jake wasn’t aware of your reaction, but as soon as you got back from the kitchen after picking up the picnic basket with the sandwiches you made, you realized he was very much aware and messing with you with the flirting as usual. You could see in his eyes a strange mix of false innocence and mischievousness. And of course, in that little game of yours you would always win.

“Well, you already have me,” you winked at him as you pulled yourself together and now was time for Jake to lose his composure, blushing. “Let's go?”

“Y-yeah.”

You gave him an address and he drove you both to the place, fully trusting you. You wanted to surprise Jake since he was usually the one who surprised you, but you hadn't gotten your driver's license yet so you needed him to do the driving in order to achieve your goal. That's why you decided to give him an address a little further away from your final destination, so both of you could walk there without him suspecting anything.

Jake was feeling like a happy puppy, very excited about what was going to happen tonight.

He was curious about your plans, especially after you asked for a picnic blanket and some beverages – “a night picnic?” he asked as you two texted. He remembers you just replying with “lol don’t fool yourself”.

He didn’t know what to expect about the place really, and not only that, he couldn’t stand the urge to kiss you properly. God, he was so in need of you it hurted. Having you next to him, your scent all over him, your sweet and lively presence, and not being able to touch you was driving him insane.

“I don’t wanna you to get high on expectations, Jakey,” you said softly after a while with a concerned voice. Jake had stopped at a red light and the silence wasn’t awkward, but it was undeniable that you were worried about the outcome of that night. 

What if Jake doesn’t like what you’ve prepared? What if he thinks you’re too dumb and leaves you? What if he doesn’t really wanna be with you? 

“I’ll like whatever you’ve planned, sweetheart,” just like Jake was reading how anxious was your mind, he uttered. “You are my company for tonight. That’s all I need,” he reassured you, holding your hand and resting it on your thigh. 

You glanced over at him to see his lips turned into such a gorgeous smile you almost cried. Jake was perfect.

“Okay,” you brought his hand to your lips and planted a small kiss. You tried to let it go after, but he refused.

Jake drove the rest of the way holding you, only letting it go when needed, but catching it again as soon as he could.

The warmth and softness of his touch took all the worry out of your head in a minute, and just like you arrived. Jake parked where you told him to do so and opened the car door and helped you to get out as usual. This time though he intertwined your fingers as he let you guide him through the way. 

“Don’t we need to bring the things?” 

“Nah, we have something to do before,” you tried to sound enigmatic, forcing an expression which made Jake laugh, totally endeared by you.

“Ooh, so mysterious.”

You both walked for a bit rambling about the surroundings. It was kinda in the middle of nowhere, with nothing much around and plenty of open space. Jake noticed there was a big building and before he could say a thing, you began to explain.

“So I know we both like astronomical stuff, right?” He nodded, looking at you. So pretty. “May I say you especially in a very nerdy way,” you softly pushed his shoulder with yours and he playfully rolled his shining eyes while failing to hold back a smile, full of adoration for you. “I thought about this when I realized I wanted to be more than just friends with you,” you stopped walking to completely face him, holding both of his hands. “Behind you at this exact moment there’s a stellar observatory,” you stopped him from turning around wanting to finish your speech first. “Apparently fate had worked through this, since today they don’t normally open to everyone. Only for reservations or something like that.”

You finally let Jake turn around and take a proper look at the place. You watched as his eyes began to shine even brighter, it looked like he was about to cry. You also noticed how his hand tightened around yours, as if he was nonverbally thanking you.

Jake was genuinely flabbergasted. How the fuck did he managed to find someone that amazing? 

“I’m not gonna ask how you managed to get a reservation here,” he joked.

You raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean by that?” He just laughed it off. “Well, I kinda didn’t,” you suddenly felt small, even tried to restrain your hand from his but he refused to let you go.

You ran away from his intense gazing, not wanting to see the disappointment on it as you kept talking “We’re not going into the observatory. We’re gonna use the telescopes they have open for use down here,” you explained. “Since today it’s a reservation only or whatever day, we get to use it freely. It’s definitely not the same thing, but I’m sure it can be cool.” you forced a smile still afraid to look at Jake’s direction. “I tried to book it for us I swear I did, but it was too expensive,” you uttered apologetically and again you were rambling due to your nervousness.

Jake not saying a thing helped nothing either. Little did you know he was as speechless as amazed with your witty self for figuring out a way of making that night special in such a short amount of time. He knew how hard it is to come up with ideas like that and to make it work. And you did it. Flawlessly. 

He was so falling in love with you.

“...I’m so sorry if I raised your expectations too high. I wanted to do something nice since you’re always doing nice things to me, you deserve bett–” 

Jake once more interrupted your nonsense speech by pressing his lips on yours and you instantly melted in his arms, your hands moving up to find comfort on his shoulders as his own went down your back until they rested on your waist, squeezing lightly. 

You moved your head to the side wishing to deepen the kiss, the whole fantasy of waiting for the special moment to finally kiss him was already blown apart as both of your bodies searched for the other’s. 

Your heart was beating fast and all your senses were heightened and sensitive, as if Jake had awakened a new sensation in you. A genuine sense of desperation for closeness. You needed more. Like reading your mind, Jake’s tongue touched your bottom lip at the same time your fingers scratched the back of his head, getting lost through his soft strands as you pulled him closer.

Jake touched you with care, he was kissing you so tenderly yet you could still feel his hunger for you. You weren’t different either. One of his hands came up to hold your face to help with the movement of your heads. You quickly found a pace, like two puzzle pieces being a perfect fit.

Neither of you wanted to part away, feeling too addicted to the contact. So whenever one broke down to breathe the other would reach over and start again, until your lips were a little bit sore. You pulled away unwilling, leaving little pecks on his plump lips as he did the same on yours.

Jake was unable to hold back his smile and didn’t even tried to, too happy about finally kissing you. “We have a little problem, baby,” he whispered as his dazzling eyes wandered all over your features. You looked even more stunning under the moonlight. “What?” You quietly asked back. “I don’t think I can or want to stop kissing you.”

You giggled, feeling shy under his intense but gentle gaze. He was adoring you and you could feel every piece of it.

“You don’t have to stop.”

And just like that you kissed again. And again. And again. 

You felt like a drug to Jake, so addictive, so intense, so you. He had the impression that all his problems would be solved instantly if you just kissed him. He decided that from now on at the end of a stressful day, he would search for your touch and your touch only.

“But I kinda want you to stop for a bit, so we can go see the stars,” Jake chuckled when you broke the kiss to say. 

“You love stars, don’t you, pretty girl?” He gave you a final cute little smooch while hugging you tightly. 

“Yeah.”

And even though you had observed dozens of stars that night, none of them shone brighter than your eyes together. 

You were dating. 

Actually there was no big difference from what you and Jake acted before, other than the fact that everyday that he went to pick you up to the university, you got to kiss him, which made you two develop the routine of waking a bit early just to get enough moments together. 

Also you started to feel comfortable to call him cute names, your favorite being pretty boy, very effectively when you wanted to fluster Jake and see him giggling.

The dynamic was similar, but way better.

When you told your friends about the night, they literally screamed. Of course you kept as a secret how romantic it was to lay down under the moon and starlight with Jake as you cuddled and shared kisses. But everything about Jake sounded dreamy. 

He was so cute and you were not so slowly falling in love. He would leave you at your classes everyday and kiss you good luck. Due to his recent research project his time was getting tighter, nevertheless he would squeeze his whole schedule just to see you for a minute or two. And of course, to steal a kiss from you. 

Most of your lunch time was with him, either when you had time to grab some food and eat in peace or when some of you two were in a hurry. On days like that, you normally would find him in the library, leaving him some snacks, water and a sweet kiss. He would do something similar to you. 

Gradually your relationship was growing stronger, however you still hadn’t done anything on the bed yet other than kiss and sleep together. You weren’t complaining! You loved to kiss Jake and to feel his warm body embracing yours.

He was very respectful towards you and you really appreciated that. He would initiate the kisses sessions most of the time, but rarely deepen it waiting for you to do it. His hands would never go further down your hips, even when you tried to force him to do it by putting it on your ass he relocated them back up.

But you were a woman after all. A woman with desires and needs. Strong desires and needs.

Even though you had a long-term relationship, it was only after the breakup that you discovered that your ex didn't give you any pleasure – or gave you anything at all. Your previous relationship was a mess, to be honest. Talking to people and listening to their experiences made you realize how shitty you were being treated back then – in every aspect!

You knew how to please yourself and most of the time was enough. However, it’s been a while since you last had sex and you could live without it normally, but there was Jake, all over you.

His smell, his pretty face, his touches, his lips, his fucking nose and his slender fingers… The way his veiny hands would hold the steering wheel drove you insane. You needed him.

It was a cold Saturday and you were watching him play your video game. Yeah, apparently Jake liked your video game more than you – this was you being dramatic every single time he stopped to pay all of his attention to you and decided to play something, but as soon as he starts to celebrate for defeating a boss, you just smile and forget about the drama.

Today was a bit different though. Normally you would pay attention to either the screen or to his pretty face and reactions, loving how expressive he was, always thinking Jake was a sculpture or something. But on this very specific day you paid more attention to his hand movements. 

The way his grip was strong on the controller and how his fingers moved on it was making you mad. He was biting his lip more than usual as well in order to concentrate and, God, you could feel your panties get wet just by watching him like that. 

Part of you felt like a perverted. 

At some point he groaned. Apparently something bad happened to him on the game, but you didn’t gave a fuck. The sound he left woken a strong feeling inside you.

“Why is this so difficult?” Jake asked frustrated, throwing the controller away on the couch in defeat and looking at you.

He wasn't expecting to meet your intense gaze on him, eyes darkened as your tongue traveled through your lips to wet it. 

His confused puppy eyes and parted lips were your last straw. 

You straddled over his lap, hungrily kissing him. You almost instantly sucked his bottom lip, looking for a more intense contact. You could feel he was a bit confused, hesitantly resting his big hands on your hips, not knowing what to do.

When you bite his lip you heard a whimper and that alone made you grunt against Jake’s mouth in response, pulling him even closer. You pulled a few strands of his hair and again he let out a sound for you, feeling him getting hard beneath your body.

Before you could continue doing your job, he said in an urge, his breath heavy. “I gotta go.”

You shook off your head whispering “No,” and pulled him again to keep making out with him, lewd kissing sounds filling the room, a total mess happening in your living room.

The feeling of his hardened bulge hitting directly on your covered wet cunt was making you rub yourself against it, hoping to get more friction. At this exact moment Jake forced you to move away from him, gripping your hips to stop your movements. 

“I really gotta go, I have some uni stuff to do,” he was breathless. You noticed how his eyes were different from ever, face red and skin hot. You blinked a few times as you just watched him put you back on the couch and stand up, trying to cover his obvious boner with his oversized jacket. He gave you a little kiss on the cheek and said goodbye to you before rushing out of your apartment. 

You had to satisfy yourself alone that night. And after that, you cried.

You started to question yourself. 

Yeah, Jake looked at you like you were the only one in his life. But was it enough? Does he find you attractive? Or better: does he find you desirable? Sexy? Hot? Sensual?

Since that day Jake started to run away from your more passionate touches like he was running from death. 

At first you thought he could be a virgin, and no problem with that. You would let him feel comfortable enough with you to try to do something more, however you knew he had other relationships and weren’t inexperienced either. 

Actually you even went to Sunghoon and Heeseung to ask them about it, to which they answered that Jake may be “boyfriend material” and only have intimate moments with people he somehow trusts, but he definitely wasn't inexperienced in that field.

So doubting yourself was your only option. You could also ask directly why he never did more than just kisses with you, but that option needed more courage from you than you had. 

“What’s with the frown, baby?” Yunjin asked you one day as you both decided to lunch together. You were giving excuses to Jake during the whole day in order not to talk to him, saying you were too busy and that maybe today you wouldn’t be able to meet him.

You sighed, playing with the food on your plate. “I don’t think Jake likes me.”

“What? There’s no way. He almost licks the floor you walk on. What did he do?” She was ready to throw hands.

“The real problem it’s the opposite. He don’t do it.”

“Do what, baby?”

“We’ve been dating for weeks and we haven't had sex yet. I’m almost crawling on my bedroom walls.”

“Wow,” Yunjin was shocked, eyes widened. For the way you two acted together, she thought that every single room of your house was blessed already. “Well, have you asked him why? Because that’s pretty much a ‘he’ problem as it seems.”

“I’m afraid,” you stated sincerely. 

“Of what, baby?”

“Of him saying something I don’t wanna hear. I don’t wanna lose him, Jinnie,” you uttered with sorrow. 

“Y/N, my pretty baby, remember we are talking about Jake. The man who woke up in the middle of the night and went to your house to kill a cockroach because you called him. The man who has a photo of you in his wallet. The man who had literally skipped classes just to spend some time with you because apparently he can’t live without you,” you started sobbing. “He likes you very much, Y/N. And he has shown to be someone who listens to you with adoration. Anything you say or ask him he would do his best to listen and talk about it, you yourself said that to me once when we were ranking green flags, remember?” You nodded. 

It was the truth. He was Jake. The man who demonstrates so much affection in every action. 

“I’ll talk to him. Thank you, Jinnie.”

“You don’t need to thank me, sweetie.” She kissed the top of your head. “You know I’m always here for you and just want you to be happy. You deserve it.”

You decided to talk to Jake on the next day. You weren't planning to “arrange a sex meeting with him” or anything similar, but to talk about it. So you invited him over that day, knowing he would be completely free because it was a Friday. You did a test early that day and were free as well.

Since he was going to your apartment quite often you gave him a key to make things easier for both of you, so when you heard the front door opening as you drank some water your heart started to beat fast in advance.

His scent followed all the way through your house directly to you. You felt his arms hugging you from behind and for a few seconds you let yourself get lost in his warmth. “Hey, gorgeous. How are you?” He whispered close to your ear, kissing your neck. You turned around to face him. “You look sad. What happened? Are you ok?” He flooded you with questions as his eyes worriedly wandered over your face. You just pecked him quickly before taking his hand on yours and leading him to the couch. 

Jake felt his heart sinking.

He maybe was going crazy, but he felt that you had purposely ignored him the day before, constantly finding a rather lame excuse for every solution he gave. He preferred to believe that you were not having a good day and respected your decision. But when you invited him over, it became undeniable how anxious he was feeling.

And the way you welcomed him at that moment made him even more worried, especially when you said the cursed phrase.

“I wanna talk to you about something.”

He swallowed, trying to keep it cool by saying gently “What is it, sugar?” as he reached for your hands to mildly squeeze it in reassurance. 

Even though Jake was quite tense, he would always prioritize you and the fact that you had some difficulty verbalizing what normally was bothering you, so he knew it was consuming you just as much.

“I– Actually I don’t even know how to say it,” you started shyly with a low voice, avoiding Jake’s gaze. “But I’m…”

“Y’know you can say anything to me, right?” Jake tried to encourage you as he gently pulled you closer and just like that you moved to sit on his lap, each of your knees on either side of his legs as you trapped him underneath you.

Without saying a thing, you hugged him to hide your face on his neck. Jake wasn’t fully aware of what was happening, but he wanted to give you some comfort so his hands caressed your back slowly.

After a while you muffled his skin with your breath while asking “Do you think I’m unattractive?”

Oh?

Jake had a delayed reaction to your question. “Baby, what?”

You drew apart from him enough to see his confused expression before looking away. “I don’t know if you aren’t sexually attracted to me or what, but you can always tell me y’know. I’m sure we can figure something out,” your voice was almost a whisper due your worried self about confrontations. 

“Baby, I’m so confused right now. What are you talking about?”

“I– I’d prefer you saying to my face you don’t wanna have sex with me instead of pulling me away from you every time we go further with our kisses,” as you finished saying, you felt your cheeks burning. 

Jake frowned, completely baffled.

Little did you know that Jake lost track of how many times he woke up with a painful boner after dreaming of you. Or how fast he would run away from you after a makeout session with you because of his body response to it.

He would first try to cool down with a shower, but everytime he ended up jerking himself off to get some relief, you being the only one in his mind, always moaning your name when cumming.

But, God, every single time he felt nasty, disgusted with himself. You deserved better. You're like a divinity to him, a beautiful and sweet woman, you needed to be handled with care and love and he was so afraid of hurting you.

The day you told him about your ex and how badly he treated you, especially in the sexual field  by not caring about anything but his own pleasure, Jake got mad. Really mad. 

How could one in their right mind leave you hanging, when your expressions of pleasure alone were enough to drive any man crazy? He could treat you way better. 

Sometimes Jake would get carried away while kissing you, going down to your neck to trail his lips over there biting and sucking slightly. And when he backed a bit to look at your face, he always met you with closed eyes nibbling your bottom lip, a ridiculously lustful view. 

Too hard to handle.

He had to almost physically hold himself back every time. He was afraid of scaring you with how much he needed you, with how much he wanted to get lost between your legs, making you scream nothing but his name, with how much he was willing to make you feel good.

And now he got to know that his actions were the ones making you doubt yourself, making you doubt his feelings and needs for you… He was feeling so dumb.

“I– I’m sorry, Y/N.” 

You froze. No nicknames, just your regular name.

“I never wanted to make you feel like this. I’m really sorry.”

You gulped the guilty feeling down your throat. “It’s okay, Jakey, I get it,” you smiled awkwardly, not knowing what to do next. That meant that Jake didn't want you in that way, right?

You were about to start rambling as usual and before you did so, Jake shut you up with his mouth on yours. You startled before reacting, moving your tongue with his and dipping your fingers into his silky strands, both of your bodies starting to get hotter.

Jake squeezed your ass while pulling you closer. “I want you, Y/N,” he was serious when you drew apart to catch your breath. “I want you so bad, my darling,” he was so desperate, your panties dampening just by how his voice sounded.

“Yeah?” You smirked, breathing heavy. “How bad, Jakey?” You noticed his eyes darkening. “Show me.” 

Getting back to work with his mouth in yours, kissing you very messily, Jake impulsed to stand up with you in his arms. You surrounded your legs around him to keep yourself steady as he stumbled a little on the way to your room. You giggled against his lips when he dropped you softly on the mattress and hovered over you, not breaking the kiss for a second.

Jake’s mouth tasted so sweet and hot on yours, you couldn't help but scratch his back and neck with your fingernails thinking how good he would be doing all that job down your cunt. His dick was getting harder and you could feel it, your mouth watering at the thought of sucking him off. You wanted so bad.

He parted away from your lips just to trail his own plump ones to your neck and collarbone, kissing, sucking and nibbling all the area before finally whispering against your skin, sending chills throughout your body.

“I really wanna eat you out,” Jake sounded determined. “I wanna taste you before anything, sweetheart,” your only reaction was a sigh mixed with a “please” that you were unsure if he heard.

But Jake was catching all of your sounds, from the quietest little whimpers to the slightly more intense ones, like the one you released when he removed your shirt and bra to work on your tits, his mouth sucking your left one while his hand cupped the other before he switched to do the opposite.

Before he continued to get down on you, you quietly asked him to remove his shirt and as he did, he revealed to you part of his perfect body. By the superficial touches over his clothes and of course the preview bumps, you knew he had a toned chest, but to see it all on display to you… You literally moaned at the view.

You promised yourself that later on you would give every bit of that skin the attention it deserved.

You watched him smile shyly before kissing your inner thigh, without breaking eye contact. Jake was absolutely certain he would cum in his pants at any given moment. The mix of your little sounds with the way you were looking at him like you were about to eat him alive triggered a strangely pleasant feeling. 

“Can I remove these?” He asked between kisses on your skin, pointing to your shorts. You nodded. “And these?” He pointed now to your panties and you nodded again, head resting on your pillow. “Yes, please. I want you.”

Jake noticed how wet you were through your last clothing piece and he literally had to hold himself back to not just dive right into you. He was getting dizzy by your smell, eyes hooded as he removed the only thing that stopped him from touching you like you deserved.

Jake salivated admiring your pussy, breathing heavily as he swallowed nothing.

At this point you were on the verge of crying due to your desperation and his unnecessary slowness, so you spread your legs even more and pleaded. “Please Jakey, I really want you,” you whined, grabbing his hair with your hand and forcing it down your cunt. “I don’t want you to hold yourself on me, pretty boy.”

And as if you casted a spell, Jake looked at you one more time before burying his face in you.

You gasped. 

He felt you dripping on his mouth and grunted, collecting some arousal with his tongue to spread all over your area before flicking it on your clit, sometimes sucking just the right amount and sometimes doing big licks. His tongue worked so damn well, you just rolled your hips in order to get more. You were so sensitive and so needy. His grip on each side of your body got stronger as he pulled you closer.

You moaned Jake’s name when he decided to use one of his fingers together with his mouth, pressing it on your entrance with care, just to familiarize you with the sensation before adding one more. After all, he just wanted you to feel good and not to be hurt. 

You kept rubbing yourself on his face and now grinding on the two fingers inside you. Jake was doing such an amazing job on you, curling his fingers the moment he needed to like he knew you from inside out, using the tip of his nose to rub your clit as his tongue and mouth worked in the rest.

“You’re doing such a good job, pretty boy,” you praised between moans and heard Jake groaning between your legs and intensifying his movements, eating you out as his life depended on it. 

“I wanna you to cum all over my face, princess,” he said, muffled. His skilful fingers moved at a steady pace. “I need that, give it to me, babe, please.”

Your orgasm was already building up inside your core. You felt the familiar sensation growing bigger and bigger until you let it out the loudest moan of the night as your back arched. Jake’s words and all the combo of his warm mouth and fingers inside you were enough to make you achieve your climax, trembling beneath his touches, grabbing his hair tightly.

Jake drank you like it was his favorite drink, licking every single drop of you with pleasure, his dick now painfully compressed in his boxers. He could get himself off just by eating you out.

He drove you through your high, movements slowing as he felt your grasp on his hair softening and your body less shaky. He kissed your pussy a few times and then crawled over you to kiss you on the lips. You watched your juices decorating his chin, nose and a bit on his cheeks before you felt your own taste in your mouth. 

Jake's hard, covered bulge rubbed against your bare cunt and you whined, breaking the kiss to down your hands all the way to his cock and to utter “Babe, you’re so hard.” Jake whimpered against your mouth and you flipped over to be on top of him. “Let me help you with that.”

And as you promised yourself, you trailed kisses all the way down his chest, putting your mouth and tongue to work through his soft skin, making him squirm a bit underneath you. 

You stopped once you got to the waistband of his pants, taking it off with Jake’s help and removing his boxers as well. You sighed, mouth salivating at the view of his veiny dick right in front of you.

However, you needed to feel him inside you, so you let your other desires for later, starting to move in a way you could sit on him.

“I wanna ride you,” you announced as if it was your only goal in life. “Like, really bad.” 

“Fuck, babe,” Jake groaned, watching you positioned yourself comfortably on top of him, quickly moving his hands to hold your hips. “Go on. Use me,” he threw his head back to just enjoy the sensation of finally feeling your walls around him, before realizing something was off. “But wait– Sugar,” he said with widened eyes, sitting up to hold you before you did anything. “You’re going in raw?” Jake questioned in disbelief. 

You blinked at him, confused. “You’re clean, right?”

“Yeah, but–”

“So am I. And on birth control, don’t worry.” 

Since you were still wet due your orgasm and because Jake’s little sounds aroused you enough, you pushed him back to bed, giving him a little peck before holding his dick and placing it on your sensitive area.

Jake knew he wasn't getting out of there alive. There was no way. How would he survive you? God, you were insane. And the way you slowly slid down on his length, using its precum to lubricate, sent him out of orbit in an instant.

He did nothing but open his mouth and moan, eyes rolling back to his head with the amazing feeling of your pussy coating him so tight and warm. He could feel you everywhere. He almost cummed just because of that alone, having to close his eyes tightly in order to concentrate enough to not let it happen.

“Oh, fuck,” Jake bit his bottom lip the moment you moved a bit, adjusting yourself. “You feel so fucking good already, fuck.”

You watched every reaction of his, enjoying it as a show. The frowned face in pure pleasure, the red wet lips, face all flustered and glowing, not to mention the dim light of your room working to make the view even more gorgeous and pleasant. 

Jake felt you staring and how you stayed still for a while, finding support on his chest with your hands. He opened his eyes to glance at you. You gave him a little smile and he reciprocated, caressing the skin of your body under his touch as he waited for you to feel comfortable enough to move by yourself. Jake watched as you started to move back and forth slowly on his cock, your eyes closing with how good he was filling you up. 

Although Jake's hands rested on your hips, he didn't force a single movement, letting you find your pace. He admired you for a moment, “you look so, so pretty right now, baby,” he praised sincerely, watching the way your expressions changed to pure pleasure as you moved faster.

You leaned forward to find his mouth with yours, kissing him, missing those pretty lips of his on yours. Your moans got lost between your mouths as you continued to move faster until you found the pace of your liking, Jake now helping you to keep it going. 

Lewd sounds of your bodies shocking against each other filled the room, mixed with whimpers as well as the wet kissing sounds.

Jake reached down with one of his hands to rub your clit, and by the way his cock twitched inside of you, you deduced that he was close to cum and didn't want to do it alone.

You drew apart from the kiss to rest your head on the curve of his neck, sucking the skin as well as whimpering against it. The position leaded Jake to have his mouth directly on your ear, and with all the stimulus happening at the same time, his dick hitting your g-spot, his finger rubbing your sensitive nerve and his voice moaning your name in your ear, you started to clench furiously on Jake’s length.

“Wait–”, you barely heard him saying, too lost in your pleasure already. “Where do I c–”

“Inside,” you answered quickly before he tried to pull off.

“Fuck.” Jake’s head was spinning, he was seeing stars. “Be my girlfriend,” he let it out in one breath.

“What?” You asked back under your breath, questioning if you were hearing things due pleasure.

“Let me be your boyfriend,” he said panting. “Officially. Be my girl, please. Be mine,” he begged with a groan, cumming inside of you. 

You openly moaned his name, rolling your eyes back as your orgasm also hit you. You thought that alone could answer his question, keeping on the movement to ride you two through your highs, his strong hands gripping you tightly and your whole body shaking.

You stood over Jake's body for a while after you stopped your movements, catching your breath and feeling his liquid leaking from inside of you. 

He helped you to lay back on the bed, both still panting, both so happy about what just happened. You forced yourself to stand up just enough to kiss him before you said, looking deep into his eyes. 

“I’m already yours, pretty boy.”

That weekend was intense. Still, you just couldn't get enough of Jake. And he wasn't too different. 

Now your routine had changed a little more. He was still the sweet and kind Jake, worrying about you, asking about your day, listening to you rambling about random things, and always bringing you food on your busiest days. But it seemed like you had awakened a monster inside him.

Of course you didn't complain, especially because the one who was getting the benefits was you, who wasn't that different either, never getting enough of him.

Whenever Jake was stressed, he would usually take you somewhere to watch the sunset or to stargazing while talking about life and theories and obviously, kissing you.

Now he started eating you out. Almost every time. And sometimes he would mix these two, taking you somewhere beautiful and eating you out inside his car.

Jake had eaten you out in every room of your apartment, saying that him eating you out got him off more anything else, and you actually witnessed him cum untouched a few times, looking so fucking hot while doing it.

Nevertheless you still couldn't had the chance to give him a proper head. Jake would be saying you didn't have to do it, like you felt obligated. Little did he know that you wanted to feel his dick filling up your mouth and his cum going directly down your throat. Oh, you wanted so badly.

At this exact moment, you were sitting on your kitchen counter with your legs spreaded being supported on Jake’s shoulders as was getting lost between them, diving in your juices, making you cum with his tongue deep inside you. You reached for his hair with your hands, grabbing to bring him up and kiss him fervorous. 

“Take me to the bedroom,” you demanded with an urge. 

And how would Jake deny such a sweet request?

The moment you got into your bedroom, you tossed him on the bed. You were hungry for him, and him only. 

You saw his already hardened cock marking his sweatpants and without giving Jake time to complain, you removed all his clothing pieces – he was already shirtless – and had him naked underneath you. 

As usual, he thought you would ride him. Out of all the positions you’ve tried so far, this was a favorite of his – to look at you while you use him for your own pleasure felt too insanely good, so he got excited in advance. But you decided to surprise him this time, contradicting his expectations as you bend over to be at the same height of his pulsing cock, head pretty close to it.

He panicked.

“What are you doing, sweetheart?” He asked and tried to sit, but as soon as he did you pushed him back to the bed. 

“Imma suck you off,” you said like it was obvious. You wrapped your hand around his length and started to pump it.

“Y–you don’t have to, princess,” he stuttered, feeling hot under your soft touches. “Let me fuck you, mhm? You deserve to feel good.” He tried to sit again and you pushed him back one more time.

“Sucking you off will make me feel good too, Jakey,” you blew a bit of air on his shaft, he shivered. “Don’t you get that?” Your hands worked slowly on his dick, moving up and down, smearing the precum out of his slit with your thumb. He bit his lip to hold back a whimper. “Or do you think you're the only one who gets horny by giving pleasure to others?”

You ran your tongue all over his shaft, closing your eyes as you felt the salty precum taste spreading through your mouth, playing a bit with his tip.

Jake kept hiding his sounds from you.

His hands were squeezing the duvet under his body to the point his knuckles started to get white when you gave a little more attention to his head, realizing that this was his sensitive area. You took advantage of that.

Without a warning, you put his whole cock in your mouth in one go, feeling it hitting on your throat.

“Mhm,” he tried to contain his grunt, hips thrusting forward slightly and his left hand smacking the bed one time before grabbing the sheets again.

You held your position for a few seconds, making sure to breathe through your nose, before moving back and forth twice. Jake squirmed under you, still quiet.

“Why are you hiding from me, pretty boy?” You asked with a low voice when you backed off to breathe, hands replacing your mouth as you did so. Jake finally let it out a little whimper and you smiled. “I wanna hear you, baby.”

“I’m sorry,” he said apologetically, once more biting his lip in order to contain himself. 

The reason behind his choice of behavior under your touches was literally due his fear of scaring you off. He would be a total mess if he let it all go as he really felt. Your hot mouth around his dick sent him to hell and heaven all at once, you didn’t had to do much for him to start seeing foggy and being a whimper mess.

Jake felt your lips coating him again and groaned, back slightly arching.

“So gorgeous, Jakey,” you backed off only to encourage with a smile, jerking him off before going back to suck him. He couldn’t hold back his loud moan, eyes rolling when you sucked his sensitive tip. You quivered. You wanted more of him. “Keep on making these pretty noises for me, yeah?”

Although he was afraid of scaring you off, one thing he loved to do was to obey you, to fulfill all of your requests. Whatever you told him to do, he would do it. So when you told him to be vocal, he started to be vocal. 

Your mouth swallowed all his throbbing cock, his tip going deep in your throat, precum going down on it. Jake threw his head back, open mouthed, spilling all the little noises you loved. “Fuck, mhm, that’s it, babe,” he breathed out between groans and put one of his hands on your head without forcing you down or anything, just resting there.

The way your throat was pressing his sensitive tip as you swallowed around it, God, he was getting stupidly close. Jake dared to look down at you, meeting your strong gaze as you devoured him like a last piece of meal. “Fuck, you’re doing so good,” he gasped, rolling his eyes. Jake felt a familiar burning wave all the way through his body. “Fuck, I’mgonnacum”. 

You kept your movements steady, lightly scratching his thighs before you felt Jake’s body start to shake, his moans intensify and his cum hitting down your throat. You swallowed every drop of it before letting his dick with a pop and using your thumb to clean up the corners of your lips as you crawled back to kiss him passionately. 

At this point you were already horny again, so as you kissed him, feeling his shaky hands all over your body, you pressed your bare cunt on his softened shaft and moved a bit. He parted the kiss, trying to push you away.

“I– I don’t think–”, he tried saying. “I’m sensitive, baby– Ahh...”

“Yeah?” You rubbed your bare cunt on his dick with a sly smile. “So you don’t want me to ride you, Jakey?” You kept waving your body on him, forcing a disappointed face with a fake pout.

Jake trembled, feeling his eyes water in a painful pleasure. “Of c–course I– I do, fuck.”, his voice cracked, eyelids closing. He was fully unable to stop you at this point, and he didn’t wanted to anyway, so he just started to sob as you kept sliding on him, back and forth, slowly, painfully slowly.

You were sending him into overstimulation, loving his reactions, loving how desperate he looked. Legs squirming beneath you, eyes tearing up, hands messily trying to figure out what to do, facial expression switching in a mix of pain and delight.

“Please…” He begged. He didn’t even knew for what. Neither did you, so you asked. “Please what, Jakey?” You stopped moving. “You want me to stop?” 

He hurried to answer “No! Please, don’t– Don’t stop.” Definitely his begging wasn't about stopping. His breath was short as you started to move again, still slow. Too slow.  “Go faster, please darling.”

And how could you deny such a sweet request?

The wet sound of your pussy rubbing against his cock was too lewd. You leaned to kiss Jake, who wasn’t able to kiss you back properly due his undergoing situation. His was dick hardening again against your folds and that was your last straw.

Yeah, he was desperate because of overstimulation, but you were desperate to feel him inside you. So you repositioned yourself to slide him deep on you in one go, making both of you scream.

You threw your head back and instantly started to grind on him, making circle movements, sending both of you to cloud nine. 

“Babe I– I’ll not last long– damn.” Jake said breathlessly, hands helping your hips to move.

“Make me cum with you, please,” you begged and of course he would never leave you hanging, so he did his work, rubbing your clit at the same pace as you bounced on him.

You felt your climax building up rapidly, breath getting heavier and heavier, body shaking as you heard Jake saying under breath "I'm cumming", while throwing his head back and filling you up with his warm liquid. You shivered, moaning louder and achieving your peak right after.

Your body fell over Jake’s, who immediately hugged you, panting, all sweaty. “This was…” He started to say after a while, still inside you. 

“Good?” He analyzed your expectant eyes when you got up to look at him and chuckled at the difference of the demon eyes you were giving him earlier.  “Incredible,” he kissed your forehead. “You are always incredible, my love.”

It was a weirdly sunny day when Jake seated you on his car hood, fitting himself between your legs while his hands rested on your hips, drawing little circles there. 

You both decided to go out that day to celebrate your new job. But instead of going for a fancy dinner or anything similar, you decided to follow the roots of your relationship and asked Jake to take you to see the sunset. 

And he would never deny anything to you. So here you were, looking at the pretty sky behind Jake’s back when he himself was sunk on your neck. 

"Why does the sky turn orange during sunsets?" You asked nonchalantly, feeling Jake's kisses on your skin. He was inebriated by your scent and acting as if he was getting drunk on you. 

He loved that. 

He loved you.

"It has something to do with the light traveling through the atmosphere. Don't make me do my homework right now, baby," he said muffled, unable to leave your warm embrace. You chuckled.

You loved that. 

You loved him.

"Sorry," your fingers slid through his hair, scratching slightly. He hummed in response. 

It’s been two weeks since you started to call him your boyfriend and he started to call you girlfriend, the honeyed voice always making you melt. 

Nevertheless none of you said I love you yet. Not that you two needed to. You felt Jake’s love on every action of his. The way he would look at you so dreamily at any point of the day, how he would embrace you so tightly at the end of a stressful one. Or how he would always clean you up after the sex, even when he was tired as hell. He treated you like a goddess. You felt it. 

It was as clear as crystal water that you loved him too, at least you thought. 

You would purposely ask questions about astronomy just to have him speaking animatedly in technical terms that you often didn't understand very well, but loved to see him sparkle in joy. Or when you cooked his favorite meal just to see his puppy eyes widening in surprise and thank you with a sweet kiss. Or even when you watched him play video games for hours without complaining, actually enjoying and hyping him up, sometimes playing together when he asked you to. 

Jake, actually, noticed every bit of it. 

He himself making sure to love you every moment of his day, making sure you were safe, fed, warm, and most important: happy.

Jake loved your smile. He loved to see you ramble about your favorite songs and flowers and chocolates and movies and everything. 

He loved everything about you.

You exhaled. The feeling was consuming you, you had to let it out. The ache of holding it to only your actions wasn't enough. You needed to say it.

And you did. In one go.

“I love you.”

Jake lifted his face off your neck to look you in the eyes, kind of shocked by your sudden statement. “I don’t care if you don’t love me back, but I love you. More than stargazing, more than feeling a cold breeze under the moonlight, more than listening to my favorite artist. None of those feelings overcomes the feeling of having you around,” you caressed his cheek. Jake listened to you with attention. 

“You color my world by just being around. Every part I go I look out for you,” you could see Jake’s eyes watering. “And I do find you in everything, because, Jake, you became my everything. It’s scary how much I need you. It's scary how much I can love you,” you rested your forehead on his, closing your eyes. “So yeah, I love you,” you whispered at the end.

Jake's breath got heavy as he assimilated all your words.

God, he loved you as much as you did. Lately he had to deal with the urge of telling you the three words, afraid of scaring you off as always. But now he knows you are as much in love with him as he is with you, and he felt so damn lucky.

"You wanna know something that has nothing to do with physics?" Jake spoke softly after a while in silence trying to find the right words. You weren't expecting that question after your confession. "What?" you asked in a whisper.

He looked so gorgeous under the golden light. 

"I can watch a hundred sunsets with you," he said softly, loving eyes at you. He gently put a strand of hair behind your ear, as usual, and continued, "And you’d still be the prettiest view."

Jake didn’t had to verbalize “I love you” after that, but he did. 

He did it continuously. He did it before you went to sleep and when you woke up. He did it before leaving you at your classes and as soon as he picked you up. He did it out of the blue, while you were vacuuming your apartment and he was dusting the furniture. Because no matter how much he said, it didn't seem enough.

It was love at first sight, blessed by the moonlight keeping their love secrets and under the sunset light, keeping their sweet passion burning.

[retrosabers]

𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐤𝐢𝐬𝐬.

FICMAS DAY ONE- MISTLETOE

logan howlett x fem!reader

summary: marie is determined to get logan to kiss you under the mistletoe

contains: cute holiday fluff, marie and bobby being little shits, established relationship, swearing, teasing

word count: 1.8k

a/n: this was not supposed to be almost 2k words but i have a very bad habit of getting carried away when it comes to logan so…let’s hope i can actually commit to writing all these holiday blurbs! in the meantime, enjoy some wolvie sweetness <3

!! divider by @strangergraphics !!

FICMAS MASTERLIST

holidays at the x-mansion meant a few things.

helping put up the largest christmas tree you’ve ever seen, and decorating it from head to toe. each student and professor responsible for placing their favorite ornament on a branch.

spending your weekends cozying up by the fireplace with hot cocoa and your colleagues. basking in the warmth that had nothing to do with the glowing embers, but the company seated around you.

and last, but most importantly, less kids. since a fair amount of them returned home to spend time with their families, that meant fewer heads to keep track off, and less stress on your plate.

but of course, things could never be that easy.

the ones who remained, usually the older students, always tried their luck to see just how much they could get away with, under the guise of “being in the christmas spirit.”

last year it was the snowball fight that somehow made its way into the foyer. the year before that there was a wrapping paper prank that covered all four walls of the professor’s office with obnoxiously printed gift wrap.

both of which were unnecessary messes that irked logan big time. and yet, this year’s ordeal got under his skin in a way that was unparalleled to those prior.

and it’s all your fault, really. well, sort of.

somehow an innocent comment made in passing about always wanting to be kissed under mistletoe turned into a personal mission for marie. she was determined to help make your dream come true, and while the kindness of it all is incredibly sweet and heartwarming, she’s starting to get a little carried away.

logan liked the young girl. he really, truly did.

but if her and bobby didn’t stop this little charade, he was going to lose his mind.

all damn day the pair of teens were following him around every corner. whispering and giggling under their breath, forgetting that he could hear them from a distance away. he knows exactly what they’re up to, judging by the faux leaf decoration marie is doing a very poor job of hiding behind her back.

they’re trying to play matchmaker.

it’s something that would be the slightest bit endearing if he wasn’t already involved.

that’s what made the situation ironic. funny even. watching them scramble around to place the mistletoe whenever you and logan were in the same room. thinking they were single handedly going to be responsible for a love match that was already underway and had been for months.

you weren’t purposely keeping your relationship a secret. you just didn’t feel like it needed to be divulged to the team just yet. anyone with eyes however, could clearly see there was something going on between you and the wolverine.

hence the two young mutants trying their hand at playing cupid.

“you can’t keep barking at them all day,” you scold logan, who was shooting the iceman a warning glare over his shoulder. the blonde looks like a deer caught in headlights as he darts down the hall. ��they’re just being kids.”

“gettin’ on my goddamn nerves is what they’re doing,” your boyfriend grumbles. his hard expression melts a bit when you affectionately card your fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck.

“i think it’s sweet.”

logan scoffs with a roll of his eyes, but it's clear he’s mostly messing around. he’s got a soft spot for the kids whether he wants to admit it or not, and he most definitely has a soft spot for you, which he’ll scream loud and proud. his eyelids flutter shut at the soothing scrape of your nails against his scalp.

“i’m waiting for you to starting purring one of these days,” you tease him in a low whisper. logan opens one eye, unimpressed. still, there’s a faint tug on the corner of his lips.

“whatever,” he retorts weakly, relishing in the peaceful moment. knowing you don’t get many of those around here, his hand stays snug against the small of your back, hoping he can keep you anchored for just a little while longer.

as much as you want to stay like this all day, both of you have things that need to be taken care of. logan deflates slightly when you pull away, hands ghosting around your torso before limply falling at his sides.

“duty calls,” you groan, as you look down at your watch to check the time. your next class started in five minutes, and you’d be setting a bad example as the teacher if you were late. “i’ll find you after?”

logan nods, debating on whether or not he should do what he’s thinking. you’ve shown affection around the mansion before, but with bobby and marie sneaking around, he didn’t want to give them a front row seat, especially considering no one really knew you were together yet. the last thing he needs is those two running amuck telling everyone his business.

although logan would be a liar if he said he could go without your kisses. because he couldn’t. not by a long shot, regardless of the circumstance.

just as he’s about to lean in, a loud noise sounds from the hallway. you exchange glances for a split second, protective instincts kicking in before you rush out of the room in a panic.

in a flash, you’re standing in the mansion’s entryway, logan with his claws out and you with your fists up ready to face danger. except there wasn’t anything alarming to be found. not a knocked over vase. not so much as a fly in the wall.

“what the hell was that?” you breathe, surveying the hall for any sign of what could’ve caused a ruckus.

“probably those damn kids again,” logan huffs exasperated, giving the room another once over before his claws retract.

you can’t stop the bark of laughter that makes its way out of you. logan looks back at you confused, but with a hint of a smile on his face.

“i’m sorry,” you snort, covering your mouth at the sound. “it’s just, you sound like such an old man right now.”

unamused, logan offers a blank stare, though you know there’s no real irritation behind it.

“i’m not sure who’s worse,” your boyfriend groans as he makes his way back toward the living room. “you, or the kids.”

“you know you love me,” you joke, following close behind. logan hums sarcastically, but deep down he knows it’s the complete and utter truth. he doesn’t have to say it out loud for you to know, and somehow his coyness about the subject manages to make you even more smitten.

your heart flutters from that notion, in addition to catching a glimpse of the mistletoe that’s now mysteriously pinned above the corridor.

it definitely wasn’t there two seconds ago.

a quick flick of your head back and forth to double check and make sure there wasn’t any prying eyes. bobby and marie weren’t very good at hiding, so when you’re not met with a chorus of stifled giggles, you know you’re in the clear.

a smug grin accompanies the airy call of logan’s name.

the man gives a sideways peek over his shoulder before spinning around completely, eyeing you with tender curiosity.

you stand in the doorway, teetering back and forth on your heels, and nod your head up in the direction of the ever dreaded mistletoe. an innocent flush on your cheeks that signals to him just how giddy you are over something so small.

and as much as logan can’t stand the cliche-ness of it all, he has no choice but to oblige.

because who would he be, if he didn’t do everything in his power to keep you this happy?

with faux annoyance, he stomps over to you, dragging his feet across the floor for dramatic effect. it only adds to your amusement, the sound of your laughter the most delightful noise he wishes he could bottle up and keep forever. when his large hands find their familiar place wrapped around you, any facade of indifference crumbles.

“m’gonna get those little shits if they’re lurking,” logan mutters playfully, your lips mere inches apart with how closely he leans in.

“just shut up and kiss me already howlett,” you whisper in protest, and that little hint of bossiness is all logan needs to surge forward and close the gap.

it felt exactly like something out of those cheesy christmas romance movies, but in the best way possible. the scent of vanilla and pine occupies your senses as logan’s lips move in tandem against yours. delicate and slowly, an always dizzying contrast to the brooding and rugged exterior of the wolverine. you melt like putty into his touch, arms encircling the back of his neck naturally.

there’s something sweet and syrupy that logan feels between his ribs when you shuffle around onto the tips of your toes to deepen the kiss even more. to find a way to get even closer, an impossible feat that physics won’t ever allow but you try anyway.

the only thing that could ever pull you away from this bliss, was the need to come back for air.

the sight of you, blushed and breathless, was always sure to make him swell with pride. in true hallmark fashion, a piece of hair falls in front of your face, and logan tucks it behind your ear without second thought.

“that live up to the hype?” logan teases, raising a brow up towards the ceiling, that sly smirk of his making you flush even more.

“maybe,” you quip back, pretending to mull things over in your mind before ultimately nodding your head enthusiastically.

and even when logan can sense the presence of bobby and marie looming nearby, he doesn’t fly off the handle with a string of swear words like he wants to. he can’t bring himself to rain on your parade just yet. though he should’ve known you’d beat him to the punch.

“they’re standing in the hall aren’t they?” you grumble against his lips, a hint of annoyance lacing your otherwise cheery tone.

“yup,” logan pops the last letter, shifting to give the pair a look that screams “i’m giving you a five minute head start before you get an earful.” they cartoonishly scamper off, the sound of bounding footsteps up the staircase filling the room.

you pinch the bridge of your nose, the bubble of this perfect moment popping at the thought of what the rest of your day was going to entail now that the mansion’s biggest blabbermouths caught you kissing.

“we’ve got about 10 minutes before the entire state of new york knows our business.”

logan’s laugh rumbles against you, sending delightful vibrations throughout your body. even with the irritation that pricks at the both of you, there’s an underlying sense of content that can’t be ignored.

“i say it was worth it.”

“yeah?” you whisper, eyes searching logan’s for some sign of jest or sarcasm. surprisingly, they’re full of sincerity, and it only adds to the warm and fuzzy feeling spreading across your skin.

“yeah,” he hums, gingerly cradling your face as he presses your lips together once more.

later, after you scold marie for being a meddler, you’ll be sure to thank her for helping give you one of the most memorable kisses in your entire life.

thanks for reading! <3

!! if you would like to be tagged in the rest of the ficmas blurbs, please send me an inbox message or leave a comment !!

[serpentandlily]

We Should Stick Together - Azriel x Reader

We Should Stick Together - Azriel x Reader

Summary: Azriel deals with the aftermath of losing his mate. (Part I)

Warnings: angst, death, self-harm

A/n: An epilogue of sorts to Birds of a Feather - Read HERE. Thanks for all your love!! 

• ───────────────── •

I want you to stay

'Til I'm in the grave

'Til I rot away, dead and buried

'Til I'm in the casket you carry

• ───────────────── •

It was dead silent in the Temple. Many fae had come today to pay their respect and to honor the female that died during the war with Koschei—the female that had bravely lured the Death God to his demise and had ultimately met her own in the end.

Azriel had watched the service from the shadows, consumed by his shame and grief. Grief over losing his mate, his best friend, and the chance at a long life with her. Shame from not being able to protect her, from not realizing the mating bond between the two of them until it was far too late and for those last few words he had spoken to her that had only pushed her further into a suicide mission. 

You just want me to continue being miserable. Because that’s always been why the two of us got along so well. Both lonely and so unhappy and now that I’m finally not, you want to drag me back down. Maybe one day someone will love you the way me and Elain love each other. But just because no one does right now, does not mean I have to give up my happiness to keep being miserable with you.

The words haunted him. 

She haunted him. 

Azriel had always been good at ruining his own life. But saying those words was single handedly the worst mistake he had ever made. He hadn't meant them. Of course he hadn't meant them. He loved Y/n. He had since the day he had met her. She was his closest friend—someone he had felt comfortable with. But he had been so blind...blinded by Mor and her vivacious personality...blinded by Elain and the sunshine she had brought to the Night Court. 

All along his mate had been right by his side. The one person he had been searching for all his years of living had been right in front of him and he hadn't even noticed. 

Azriel walked down the long aisle towards the casket that was displayed on the dais. His footsteps echoed in the now silent chamber—not even his own heart beat could be heard. No, his heart had stopped beating the second hers had. 

He fiddled with the flower in his hand, swallowing the tears and sadness that threatened to consume him. He owed her this. He wasn't going to run and hide himself in the shadows as he'd been doing the past week. He needed to be here today. 

Azriel finally stopped in front of the casket and choked on his own bile as the sweet, comforting scent of his mate reached his nose. This felt all too much like a nightmare—one he was stuck in with no way out. Cursed to repeat this day from beginning to end for the rest of his existence. 

She would never stop haunting him.

And he didn't want her to. 

If the ghost of her was the only thing left of his mate in this world, he would cling to it for the rest of his days. 

Azriel placed the spirit lily on top of the casket, the glowing silver petals matched the marble stone. He had searched day and night to find this flower. It was your spirit lily. The one that had bloomed when you died. 

"I'm so sorry," he cried, the tears finally falling. "I'm so sorry." 

He fell to his knees before the casket, one scarred hand sliding along the cold marble as he continued to repeat those words over and over and over again. 

"I am so sorry."

• ───────────────── •

If you go, I'm going too, 

'Cause it was always you, alright

And if I'm turning blue, please don't save me

Nothing left to lose without my baby

• ───────────────── •

Azriel's ears were ringing as he sat at the kitchen table in the cottage that Elain and he had purchased a few weeks before their wedding. It was the first time he had stepped inside since the war with Koschei. It was the first time he'd even been in the Night Court since the loss of his mate and best friend. 

"I understand that you need time to process this, Azriel, I really do," Elain pleaded with him. "But we made vows to each other the day we married. Vows that were supposed to transcend any mating bond." 

Azriel's shadows wailed from the corners of the room. They had started searching for Y/n the day she died and hadn't stopped their cries of panic since then.

It had been a month already.

A whole, entire month had passed by without you. 

And here he was—dark circles lining his eyes, stubble on his hollowed jaw and a song he'd never hear again playing on repeat in his mind. His mating song. His soul's song. His soul that was desperately crying out for its other half. 

"I can't do this, Elain," he spoke, voice hoarse from disuse. "I'm sorry." 

"That's it? That's all you have to say?" Elain questioned, crossing her arms and leaning on the kitchen counter. "Azriel, I rejected my own mate for you. I...I thought we were in this together. We talked about the day you might find your own and we agreed that you'd reject it too." 

"I know," Azriel whispered, his forlorn eyes stuck on the cracks on the floor. "But I didn't know what I was giving up the day we made those vows, Elain. I'm sorry. I truly am. But this...this is different. Lucien was a stranger to you. I thought if I ever met my mate, she'd be a stranger to me as well. But Y/n was my best friend. I've loved her for centuries."

"All that time together and yet, you still never went after her," Elain argued. 

Those words landed a heavy blow in his gut. Elain was right. He had known his mate for years and years and never once did he think of her as anything more than a friend. But that wasn't because of her. No, he had done that to himself. 

He had found a companion with Y/n. She saw him in ways no one else did. He'd be lying if he said that hadn't scared him. For someone to see through him—through all the good and to the rotting, decaying bad that existed in him. He was a monster hiding in plain sight and she had seen that. She had seen all of that and loved him anyway. 

And he had ran from it—from her. It was his own self-hatred that caused him to never see Y/n that way. She reminded him of everything that he was because she was all the same. She was the missing piece to his broken soul. But she had been beautiful in her darkness, hauntingly exquisite in her shadows. And he had been a brutish beast who thought that someone could vanquish the darkness that surrounded him.

What he hadn't realized was that he was never looking for a light to cast the shadows away. Not really. He had been fighting a storm whose tides had only been trying to bring him home to her. To his mate. His soul and heart and mind.  

And now she was gone and she had taken all of his love with her. 

Azriel stood from his seat, barely present in this reality. "I'm sorry, Elain. No words will change my mind nor my heart. I belonged to Y/n. It is only my fault that I never saw that." 

And it was his fault. 

All of it was his fault.  

• ───────────────── •

And I don't know what I'm crying for

I don't think I could love you more

It might not be long, but baby, I

I'll love you 'til the day that I die

• ───────────────── •

"Papa, who is that?"

Nyx's innocent voice caught Rhysand's attention. He followed Nyx's gaze to the corner of the room where Azriel stood, wreathed in his shadows. It had been years since any of them had laid eyes on the elusive shadowsinger. Years since he had been so consumed with his grief that he had disappeared from this court, from Prythian entirely. 

But there was one day he always returned.

The anniversary of Y/n's death. 

Cassian had ambushed him before he made it to her gravesite and all but dragged him to this family dinner. It broke Rhysand's heart that his son didn't recognize one of his uncles.

"That's Azriel," Rhysand answered, clearing his throat. "He's one of your uncles. He used to be around a lot when you were just a baby." 

"Oh," Nyx said, tilting his head as he looked at the shadowsinger. "He seems...sad. Why is he so sad, Papa?" 

Rhysand's heart snapped in his chest. The loss of Y/n had been felt by all of them, of course. But for Azriel...it had destroyed him. None of them had known about the mating bond between the two of them. They had been caught off guard just as much as Azriel had been. Rhys had felt an inkling that she might've been in love with him due to her slowly distancing herself once he and Elain had gone public with their relationship.

He had only thought she needed space and time. He hadn't realized that she had been slowly wilting away. And no one had done a single thing to help her. They had all failed her. 

Sometimes he felt a fire-burning rage towards his brother. He had tried to steer him away from Elain that Solstice night but Azriel hadn't listened to him. Perhaps if he had, Y/n might still be here. Perhaps the mating bond would've finally snapped in place for Azriel. But instead he had stubbornly doubled-down on his feelings for Elain. 

"He lost someone he loved," Rhys choked out. "We all did. Do you remember the stories about Y/n?" 

Nyx clapped his tiny hands together with a smile. Gwyn had made sure that Y/n's name had been honored and recorded in the new books about the war with Koschei. A story that was being passed down through the years. A story Nyx had read time and time again because it was his favorite. 

"She was the warrior who faced a Death God all on her own!" Nyx exclaimed. "She led him straight to the trap where he was ambushed!"

Rhysand smiled, patting his son on the head. It had been too hard to speak her name after her death but slowly, they had all started talking about her more and more. Perhaps it was finally time to tell his son the whole story. Rhys glanced at Azriel again, who was a shell of his former self. Perhaps not the whole story.

"Well, before all of that," Rhys started, "Y/n was our friend..."

• ───────────────── •

Birds of a feather, we should stick together, I know

I said I'd never think I wasn't better alone

Can't change the weather, might not be forever

But if it's forever, it's even better

• ───────────────── •

Azriel was kneeling on the grass, his hands grasping the beautiful stone marker of your gravesite as his eyes combed over the engraving: 

Here lies Y/n

Beloved Daughter, Sister and Friend

The stars will shine brighter with you among them 

Rest in Peace

"I have tried to go on for your sake," Azriel murmured. "Because I know that is what you would've wanted. But I can't...I can't do this without you. I relive every day I've shared with you and it is still not enough to make me miss you any less. I am sorry that it took your death to make me realize just how much you meant to me." 

Azriel had gone through it all in his head time and time again. Always reliving moments where he could've seen what was right in front of him all along yet didn't. Your last words to him constantly looped in his mind. 

"I'll find...you...again. Maybe...maybe I'll be...good enough...then."

Those words could not be more untrue. It was always him who had never been good enough for you. Not you. Never you. You had always been as beautiful as the moon reflected on the sea, alluring and mysterious but peaceful. So peaceful. Despite the darkness the two of you shared, you'd always been so soft and kind to those around you...those who had never felt the kind of pain you'd gone through. 

You lured people in because of your grace. You gave people a safe place to exist in. Your shadows had felt like a warm blanket on a chilly night. Your smile had rivaled the moonlight. 

You had always been far more special than you knew. 

Your mistake had been thinking you could out love his hatred for himself. 

But the mating bond had opened his eyes. Although he had only gotten a few seconds with his mate, its song had told him everything he needed to know. He no longer hated his shadows or the anger he felt inside. He no longer hated himself. How could he? How could he hate himself when part of him was you? 

And he could never hate you. 

Gods, he could never be without you. Your souls were intertwined. 

But living in this world without you was something he could not bear. He was consumed by your memory. He looked for you in everything. In the sea, in the breeze, in the faces of random people, down alleyways and behind every door. But you were not here. You were not here and so he decided he could not be here, either. 

"You said you'd find me again," Azriel whispered. "You said you'd find me again but that is not enough. I cannot sit here and wait for you. I will crawl through Hell and everything that is ready for me when my life ends to find you. This life means nothing to me without you in it. You were my heart, Y/n. I love you. I've always loved you. And I am ready to prove that in our next life."

Azriel slid Truth-teller from its sheath and turned it over in his hand, pointing the blade directly as his own heart. He closed his eyes, tuned out all noise except that of the leaves gently rustling in the breeze. 

"I love you, Y/n," he murmured, gripping the blade tighter. "And I can't wait to see you again." 

His dagger pierced through skin and bone until it reached his heart. 

Until all life was spilled from inside of him. 

Until his final breath carried with the wind. 

Until he could finally see his love again.

• ───────────────── •

I knew you in another life

You had that same look in your eyes

I love you, don't act so surprised

[novaursa]

What about one where the small folk of winterfell and the people of the castle make friendly, suggestive gossip from giggly women and knowing men about cregan and targ!reader. Their lord and lady are close with one another and it is often talked about and seen that they frequent the bed chamber (if yk what I mean 👀)

the folk of Winterfell feel at ease knowing their lord and lady seem to be in love, similar to the honeymoon period and young love.

You don’t have to use this quote i came up with, but it inspired me to ask for this idea “I’m sure our new lady will provide both Winterfell and our Lord with many Stark children. They are certainly not opposed to practicing their duty”

— 🐠

Winterfell's Warmth

- Summary: Cregan takes you to be his wife, a fire to his ice. And it's not long until smallfolk notice just how much Lord Stark is devoted to his Targaryen bride. 

- Paring: targ!reader/Cregan Stark

- Note: This entire scene is from the perspective of the smallfolk.

- Rating: Mature 16+

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff @daeryna @melsunshine @21-princess

- A/N: This is the last request that I'll be posting today.

Winterfell bustles with the hum of daily life, as it always does—iron clanging in the forges, boots scuffing over the ancient stones, and the soft murmurs of the smallfolk as they go about their duties. But today, there's a special kind of lightness in the air, a sense of warmth despite the looming chill that clings to the North. The hearths burn brighter, and even the winds seem to whisper with a mischievous grin.

The reason for this subtle shift? You, Y/N, the new Lady of Winterfell, and your lord husband, Cregan Stark. Since your arrival, the inhabitants of the castle have grown accustomed to your frequent disappearances with their lord—disappearances that always lead back to your shared bedchamber. The smallfolk know, of course, as do the courtiers. They know very well what goes on behind those thick stone walls, and the knowledge brings them no small amount of amusement. 

In the courtyard, a group of washerwomen gossip while scrubbing linens in the cold, frothy water of a trough. Their fingers are red from the chill, but their spirits remain high.

“Have you heard?” one of them, a round-faced woman named Ellyn, leans in, lowering her voice despite the fact that no one important is nearby. “Our lady was seen entering the lord’s chambers again this morning, not long after the first bell rang.”

A younger girl, barely past sixteen, giggles and covers her mouth. “She didn’t leave until just before the midday meal yesterday, either!”

Another woman, older and seasoned from years of service, cocks an eyebrow but smiles knowingly. “Winterfell hasn’t been this alive since…well, since Lord Cregan’s own parents. I’d wager the bedchambers have seen more use in the past fortnight than in the last decade combined.”

The women burst into laughter, their voices carrying through the open courtyard. Ellyn smirks, leaning in even closer. “I’m sure our new lady will provide both Winterfell and our Lord with many Stark children. They are certainly not opposed to practicing their duty.”

The young girl flushes a little but can’t help but join in the giggling. "It's true, isn't it? They’ve only been married a moon’s turn, and yet I’ve never seen a man so... devoted to his wife."

“Well,” the older woman says with a playful shrug, “the Starks may be wolves, but it seems our Lord’s heart is well and truly claimed by a dragon.”

Across the courtyard, a pair of stable boys are equally enthralled with the ongoing rumors. One of them, tall and lanky, leans against the stall door, shaking his head.

"I swear by the old gods, I’ve never seen Lord Stark smile so much," the boy says, eyes wide with the incredulity of it all. "He used to be all serious, always about duty, honor, the needs of Winterfell. But now? Every time I see him, he’s got that daft look on his face, like he’s already back in the Lady’s arms."

The other stable boy, shorter and stockier, chuckles. "Aye, I noticed that too. You'd think a man so cold in demeanor wouldn’t be so… warm in his private affairs." He glances around, as if Lord Cregan himself might be lurking behind a pillar. "But gods, can you blame him? Our lady is like a flame. She’s got the blood of dragons in her veins, and it’s like he can’t resist her."

The tall boy laughs loudly. "Well, Winterfell is colder than the South, and a bit of fire in his bed can’t hurt, can it?"

Their laughter echoes through the stables, joining the chorus of quiet gossip that fills the castle.

In the kitchens, the cooks are no less entertained. An older man, grizzled and stern-faced, chops onions with a practiced hand. "It's a good thing they’re so taken with each other," he grumbles to a nearby scullery maid. "Winterfell needs strong heirs, and soon. Better they start early."

The maid, a cheerful woman with flushed cheeks from the heat of the ovens, snickers. "Aye, I doubt that'll be a problem. They’re always together, locked away for hours. If they keep at it, we’ll have a new little Stark running about before winter comes."

"I’ve heard they’re inseparable," another cook chimes in, stirring a pot of stew. "Lord Cregan hardly lets her out of his sight. It’s almost sweet, really."

"Sweet?" the old man scoffs, though there’s no real bite in his voice. "It’s practical, is what it is. They’re doing their duty, ensuring the Stark line continues. But," he adds with a chuckle, "it doesn’t hurt that they seem to enjoy it so much."

The scullery maid laughs. "Oh, they more than enjoy it! I was passing by their chamber the other night, and, well…" She lets the sentence hang, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "Let’s just say, they were not quiet."

The group erupts into laughter, and even the old man can’t suppress a grin.

And so it goes throughout Winterfell. From the servants who clean your chambers to the guards posted outside the great hall, everyone in the castle is aware of the affection that flows so freely between you and Cregan. Even in the great hall during the evening feasts, there are stolen glances and soft touches between you, enough for the smallfolk to notice.

At one such feast, a group of bannermen seated at a lower table murmur amongst themselves, casting knowing looks up at the high table where you sit beside your husband. Lord Cregan’s hand rests casually on your thigh beneath the table, his thumb tracing circles through the fabric of your gown. You lean toward him, whispering something that makes him laugh softly—a sound rare enough in these halls that it turns heads.

One of the bannermen, a grizzled old warrior with silver streaking his beard, nudges the man beside him. "See how he looks at her? Like she’s the only thing in the world that matters."

The younger man nods. "Aye, I’ve noticed. Seems our Lord is well and truly smitten."

"Better that than cold and distant, I say," the older man replies. "Winterfell’s seen enough hardship. It’s good for the people to know their Lord is happy. And with the lady he’s taken to bed, I’d say we’ll be seeing Stark children sooner rather than later."

The younger man grins. "Aye, and they’re certainly not opposed to practicing their duty."

As laughter ripples through the hall, you catch Cregan’s gaze, and in that moment, the world seems to fade away. His eyes, as grey as the Northern skies, are filled with a warmth reserved only for you. And though you are surrounded by the murmurs and laughter of your people, all you feel is the pull of his love, binding you to him as surely as the ancient stones of Winterfell bind the North.

The smallfolk can whisper all they like. Let them. Winterfell is at ease, and your love for Cregan is as fierce and unyielding as the North itself.

[marvelstoriesepic]

Whumpcember (day 15)

Pairing: Avenger!Bucky x Avenger!Reader

Prompt: Broken glass

Word Count: 5.4k

Warnings: slight mentions of panic attacks; crying; slight injury and blood; Bucky being a sweetheart because I love him so much

Author’s note: This got unnecessarily long somehow. Again, this was meant to be a shorty. Also, I was in my feels when I wrote this. Anyway, thank you for reading!

Masterlist | Whumpcember Masterlist

The final box of Christmas decorations thuds to the ground as you let it down with a heavy huff. You straighten up your back with a grimace, rolling your shoulders.

You might think as an Avenger, carrying a few boxes, would be an easy task. After all, you are trained to thrive under the most punishing conditions, with sharp skills and boundless stamina. But after hauling all those cartons stuffed with tinsel, garlands, and ornaments up from the storage room to the towering Christmas tree in the compound’s common area, you are left panting like you’ve just run a marathon.

It’s almost laughable. Thankfully, you are alone for now. Sam would have a field day, smug grin plastered across his face at the state you’re in.

Wanda, Natasha, and Clint meant to help you with this but they were all still glued to the desk, writing reports, but Bucky is supposed to be back from his latest mission any minute now and you wanted to do this nice thing for him at least. He did sound a little worn out on the phone earlier when he called you to tell you they were on their way back.

So perhaps decorating the Christmas tree would lift his spirit a tiny bit. It’s the first step in what you hope will be a cozy and inviting scene - something Bucky might walk into and, for once, not feel like a soldier returning from a war zone but a man coming home.

The tree is a statement, of course. Tony insisted on it. It’s so tall, it might even brush the high ceiling of the room and there is no way you’ll get some ornaments all the way up without risking your life. And Bucky would definitely not brighten up if you tried it out.

So you’ll absolutely be needing Wanda’s help sooner or later. With a flick of her wrist, she could make this whole thing a hell of a lot easier but you don’t have the time to wait until she is done writing her report.

You let your eyes roam over the many ornaments lying neatly in the box before you and one of them immediately sparks your attention. Your fingers brush against the delicate surface of the red ornament placed almost carefully beside the others.

Its glass is smooth and cool, the color a deep crimson so much more in depth than all the others. You hold it up to the light, turning it slowly, marveling at how the glow from the tree’s string lights catches on its curves and the unique and detailed pattern all across.

It’s heavier than expected, the weight surprising for something so fragile. The gold clasp at the top gleams faintly, tarnished just a little with age. A thin ribbon dangles from it, curling at the end like it has been tied and untied countless times.

There is something about it, some intangible quality that draws you in - a sense of history, of significance.

And then it happens.

The ribbon slips from your grasp, too quick for your fingers to snatch it back. If you weren’t so enamored with the beautiful piece, you would have gotten access to your reflexes a little earlier.

It’s too late now though, and you can only watch in stunned silence as the ornament tumbles to the ground, the crimson surface catching flashes of light as it falls.

It hits the hardwood floor with a sound that is both sharp and final - a crack, then a splintering.

Disappointed in yourself, you crouch down to the shattered remains. Tiny shards of glass fan out like a constellation, glinting under the glow of the tree. The ornament is no longer whole, splintered into different-sized fragments.

Annoyed that you were so stupid and careless to let this special ornament fall to its devastation, you begin to pick up the many red pieces into your palm.

It really was unique. It would have looked great on the tree-

Your movements freeze. Your heart leaps to your throat. A rush of panic claws at your chest and rises up to your ears where it floods and pounds tremendously.

Rebecca B.

It’s a name ingrained into the largest surviving piece of the glass - a faint, looping scrawl. Clearly written by hand.

Rebecca Barnes. The realization makes you weak in the knees and you fall back onto your heels, your ass hitting the floor with a thump.

This isn’t just some random ornament. This isn’t another piece of holiday cheer to hang on a tree and forget about for the rest of the year after packing it back into boxes to store it in a corner of the storage room.

This ornament belonged to Rebecca Barnes. Bucky’s sister. Something Bucky kept all these years, hidden among the other decorations like a relic of a life he’d lost long before his own had been ripped apart.

The air around you feels heavy. The smell of pine from the tree now stings in your nose. Your heart might actually have fallen along with the ornament because it too is shattered in pieces.

The shards tremble in your palm and you stare at them along with the rest still lying helplessly on the ground, as if there is actually something you can do right now to go back in time and not pick it up ever again, just to make sure.

But there is nothing you can do.

Your heart breaks even further at the thought that Bucky might have put it here deliberately. Maybe it was an attempt to move forward, to share the memory of his sister. Maybe he thought the ornament didn’t belong in some dusty package hidden away, but out in the open, a part of the holiday warmth he’s been so hesitant to feel. Maybe it was his thought of remembering her with someone else this time, instead of alone.

This would be such a huge step for him. And you would feel so proud if you weren’t on the verge of a panic attack.

Because it’s broken, divided into so many pieces. You just dropped something so carelessly that probably meant the world to Bucky. And, god, did he deserve the world. But you took it. You contorted the precious memories of his little sister. Unwillingly, of course. But that doesn’t make you feel any better right now.

You have known Bucky for a few years now. Though knowing him feels like a word too shallow for what you share. You never labeled it, both of you walking the fine line, and never crossing it.

But you see that Bucky trusts you - the kind of trust he doesn’t hand out freely. And for good reason, after all. In fact, you’re not even sure he’s ever given it to anyone else in quite the same way, not even Steve. And that’s saying something.

You see it in the small things, in the way his guarded demeanor softens when it’s just the two of you, the soft smiles that seem to be reserved for you. It’s the kind of friendship where silence doesn’t have to be filled, and words don’t have to be spoken to be understood.

He lets you sit with him on the couch in the living room on nights when his past pulls him under and doesn’t allow for him to get some shut-eye. You are usually awake yourself, sometimes just running on adrenaline after coming home from a mission and accompanying him silently. He always seems to linger out here when you are away on a mission anyway, so you usually meet him here after getting home, watching his shoulders slowly droop and his back rest more comfortably against the back of the couch.

You are the first at his bedside when his nightmares claw at his mind. You’ve seen him at his most vulnerable - shirt clinging to his sweat-soaked chest, hair plastered to his face, his breaths coming in uneven gasps as you help him fight to pull himself out of his memories.

Those nights, you never push him to talk. You don’t ask him to explain or tell you what he saw. Without a word, you would hand him a glass of water and wait while he drinks, his hands trembling so slightly it makes your stomach feel heavy every time. Sometimes you tell him to breathe with you, in and out, until the panic subsided and his shoulders stopped shaking.

You were never sure how much touch he needs in those moments so you usually stay at a small distance from him, but it seems your presence alone does wonders.

When he would be ready, he always searched your face so long and intensely, before croaking out a heavy but meaningful “Thank you.”

And his small acts of kindness always fill you with a jittery feeling that makes your knees weak and unfortunately doesn’t help at all when fighting against Natasha in the ring.

Just a few weeks ago, Bucky spent an entire Saturday afternoon fixing the squeaky hinge on your bedroom door because he heard you muttering to Wanda about how annoying it was.

He never even told you he was going to do it. You just came back to your room later that evening to find the door silent as a ghost. It took a whole week for you to find out how this happened. And it wasn’t him, who told you. It was Clint, who saw him walk around with a toolbox and a satisfied smile on his face that Clint, as he told you found a little terrifying.

Additionally, he always seems to know when you need a break during training sessions, tossing you a water bottle before you even realize how tired you are. Or he would plant himself wordlessly between you and your opponent for the day, with his arms crossed and a chastising glance at you when you’ve been fighting for hours without acknowledging the way your movements already grew sluggish and wobbly.

You are always aware when his hands linger on your shoulder a second longer after a sparring match, his metal fingers cold but careful, as if he’s memorizing the feel of you there. Or the way your stomach twists when he catches your eye across the room, and for just a moment, it’s like the rest of the world falls away. And the way he talks to you, even when people are around, his voice lower, softer, words chosen with an almost uncharacteristic care, makes you feel like you’re the only person he truly is interested in talking to. You also love the nights he shows up at your door with takeout, wordlessly handing you your favorite meal, and striding into your room to settle at the foot of your bed with a contented sigh.

Through it all, however, was always this persistent question you had. The one that molded into an ache inside your chest. Because what if? What if you took one step closer and stopped holding back? What if you risk everything you have with him now for something more?

But right now you feel like those questions don’t hold the same energy anymore. The same weight. No, they just got weightless. Pointless. Because you just ruined everything without even risking it.

You just destroyed something that can’t be fixed with glue and an apology. It can’t be fixed with you sitting with him and comforting him in the dark while his mind goes to the same cruel place like many times before.

This feels like you’ve crossed a line you can’t uncross.

The wrong line.

Shaking hands pick up the largest fragment, the soft loops of her name still visible through the fractures. The sharp ends bite into your palm like the memory of something sacred that’s been lost. You don’t feel the sting. You don’t feel the sensation of the few droplets of blood sliding over your palm where the ends nicked your skin.

The only thing you register is that this foolish mistake might actually unravel everything you’ve built with him.

He let you in, further than anyone, but that doesn’t mean he won’t push you back out if you give him a reason. And this definitely feels like a reason.

Your mind presents you with his reaction when he comes walking in here and sees what happened.

At first, there’d be nothing - just the stoic silence he uses to sink into, the kind that makes it impossible to tell what he’s thinking. But you’d see it in the smallest of things - the way his jaw tightens just enough to be noticeable, the flicker in his eyes that he’ll try to hide but won’t be able to, the stiffening of his shoulders. And then the desolation, like a tide pulling back just before it crashes. You wonder if he would say anything at all, or if the silence would hang heavy.

You swallow hard, begin to feel the sting behind your eyes, and try to force the lump in your throat down.

You’ve worked so hard to be someone he could rely on, someone he could trust in ways he hasn’t trusted anyone else in decades. You’ve sat with him, listened to him, stayed silent with him. Learned to know him so well, you even memorized the subtle shifts in his expressions, the things he won’t say but still lets you feel.

And now, here you are with broken glass in your hands and a painful feeling in your chest, terrified that this could be the moment that shatters the thing between you.

He might pull away, retreat behind those walls he’s spent years building. What if he doesn’t let you sit with him anymore. Or what if he does, but his shoulder would only grow more tense. What if he starts holding back, measuring his words, locking the parts of himself away that he once entrusted to you?

The idea of losing him - not just losing him, but losing this connection, this unspoken, almost-more-than-friendship thing that you’ve both been too afraid to name - makes your breath catch and something rise in your chest that might be bile.

A sob comes out instead.

It comes out like a wound ripped open before it could begin to heal. You press a quivering hand to your mouth, in hopes of muffling the sound, but it’s no use. More broken sobs come anyway.

You try to pull yourself together, to force the tears back, but your body feels so weak under the guilt and shame.

More parts of the broken ornament bite into your skin, red droplets welling up and sliding down your skin, pooling at the curve of your wrist, before falling soundlessly to the floor.

Pain should ground you. It should pull you out of this spiral, force you to snap back to some semblance of control. But it doesn’t. It doesn’t do anything at all.

Instinctively, your hand gives way, the pieces tumbling from your fingers and scattering across the hardwood once more.

You only sit there, frozen, your breath hitching and catching in your throat as tears streak down your face, warm and unwelcome. You can’t stop them.

You’re not supposed to be this weak. You’re not supposed to break down like this, over something so small. And yet that makes the sobs only harder to contain. Because this isn’t small - not to Bucky. And that’s the part that leaves you as shattered as the crimson glass. Perhaps as shattered as your relationship with the person you fell for as hard as the ornament fell to the ground.

It’s Rebecca. His sister. His past. His grief. It’s a tiny piece of his life that he trusted enough to bring out of hiding, to put here with the rest of the world, in the open where it could be seen. Where it could be touched. And you touched it, only to let it fall. Only to ruin it.

Shame knocks down on you so hard, you draw your knees up to your chest, curling into yourself as though you could make yourself smaller, invisible, anything but this.

You don’t even know what to do with your blood-streaked palm, only letting it hover in the air, the shallow cuts glistening under the still-glowing lights of the tree. It’s a mess. You are a mess. Curling your fingers into a fist, you wince in pain at the stinging of the cuts but you leave it like that.

Perhaps you are overreacting, sitting here on the floor in the common area of the compound with a bleeding hand and the shattered remains of Rebecca Barnes's memory, but you feel so helpless and remorseful, you can’t really think straight at the moment.

The sound of the elevator is faint, but it’s enough to reach your ears. You freeze. You just sit there, knees drawn to your chest, blood smeared across your palm, the shattered glass of the ornament glittering like broken stars on the floor.

You are tear-streaked, trembling, your chest still hitching with uneven breaths and Bucky just got home.

Those approaching footsteps are so familiar to you, you would always recognize his gate. Usually, it’s comforting, grounding to know he got home and would leave you with relief in your chest.

But there is no place for relief in your chest right now.

His footsteps sound normal, steady, perhaps a little hurried but he hasn’t reached this room yet.

You don’t look up. Instead, you bite your lip to stop the sob that threatens to escape. The shame is too sharp, cutting deeper than any piece of the ornament and making your heart bleed as well.

Maybe if you stay still, if you stay quiet, he’ll miss you somehow.

But then his steps come to an abrupt halt and you know you are screwed.

Burning tears spike once more and the sob breaks free.

“Woah, hey-” he calls out, so urgent, so worried.

Bucky is across the room in a heartbeat, dropping to his knees in front of you with a speed that catches you off guard.

“Sweetheart, hey.” It falls from his lips so softly, so worried, it nearly breaks you all over again.

Tears fall more freely at the kind of tenderness in his tone and suddenly his hand is cupping your face, thumb, and knuckles brushing the streaks of wetness from your cheeks.

But they keep coming.

“Look at me, please! Doll, look at me,” he murmurs, his voice impossibly gentle, but dripping with so much concern. His metal hand is on your face as well and he tilts it upward, guiding your gaze toward his.

His brows are drawn so deeply, lips parting slightly as he studies your face - the tear tracks, the desolation in your eyes, the shame and guilt, the trembling of your shoulders.

You can’t look at him. Can’t bear to see it. So you squeeze your eyes shut, hoping you’ll ever be able to forget that look on his face. Not when you know what’s coming. Not when you know what you have caused.

Just wait until he sees it, you think. That look will change.

“No,” he whispers, his voice so soft again, but there is a firmness in it. The pad of his flesh thumb smooths gently across your cheek again, while his metal fingers move to your hair. “Hey, no, don’t do that. It’s okay. Y/n, it’s okay!”

You shake your head quickly and try to say something, anything, but all that comes out is a choked sound, half-sob, half-breath. He doesn’t understand. He doesn’t know what he’s saying. He doesn’t know what this is about.

You want to stay hidden behind the veil of your closed eyes, safe from not seeing what you know will be there in perhaps seconds when he figures it out - disappointment, maybe anger, the grief of what you’ve broken.

“Open your eyes, sweetheart, please.”

There is something in his voice you can’t ignore. It sounds unshakable and steady, yet fragile and thick.

Slowly, reluctantly, your eyes flutter open to meet his, but when you do, you freeze.

Because he already knows.

He looks at you. Just looks, but you see he already put the pieces together. He saw the shards scattering around your knees. His expression is softer than you’ve ever seen it but he looks at you with an intensity that is new to you. There is that understanding in his eyes. But it’s so soft. So gentle.

There is no anger, no frustration, no disappointment.

There is nothing of the reaction you had feared for.

Yes, there is pain in his eyes as well. It’s unmistakable, flickering in the soft blue of his irises. But it’s not the pain you expected.

It’s not for the ornament. It’s not for what it meant.

It’s for you.

You can see it in the way his brows crease, the frown that tugs at his mouth. And the way he never once lets his gaze stray to the shards on the floor. All he looks at is you.

Bucky keeps his hands on your face, continuing to swipe over your cheeks like he’s afraid you’ll crumble if he lets go. Then, his thumbs still, resting against your cheekbones, his touch so achingly gentle that it only makes more tears fall.

“Sweetheart,” he says again, and the word cracks, quiet and uneven. He still doesn’t look angry. He still doesn’t look disappointed. He looks devastated - not for what you’ve done, but for what it’s done to you.

Your lips tremble, barely able to form words.

“It’s okay, baby. It’s okay. Come here.”

Baby definitely is a new one. It’s something he’s never called you before. But there is no time to linger on it, no chance to unpack the flutter it sparks in your stomach because he’s already pulling you toward him.

His flesh arm wraps around your body, tugging you against his chest, while his metal hand finds its place at the back of your head, cold but reassuring fingers threading through your hair.

He lets you cry against his chest. Cradles you so tightly to him, you might actually get worried about your ribs, but it feels so good. His chest rises and falls beneath your cheek, his heart is pounding. The fabric of his tactical suit presses against your skin, rough and worn from the mission he just came back from, but it grounds you to some extent.

“It’s okay. Just breathe, alright? Breathe,” he keeps whispering, exaggerating his breaths against your body to invite you to follow his lead. You try.

“I’m so sorry,” you sob, the words spilling out in a choked, broken rush as you bury your face in his chest. The tears won’t stop, soaking into the dark fabric of his suit.

“Shh,” he keeps on with his soft voice. His arm around you tightens, holding you closer, while his metal hand stays solidly at the back of your head. His fingers brush through your hair in slow, soothing motions. “Don’t be. Don’t you dare be.”

He continues murmuring to you when you try to apologize again, his voice low and warm. He talks so calmly and sure, you feel something inside of you churn.

Bucky tilts his head slightly, resting his cheek against your hair, and you feel the warmth of his breath as he talks to you.

And yet, biting guilt gnaws its way through your ribs. You feel terrible - worse than terrible - because it should be you comforting him, not the other way around.

It’s him who lost something precious, something you had broken. And here he is, holding you, brushing tears from your face, whispering words meant to stitch you back together.

But somehow, he doesn’t even seem to care. He holds you like you are the only thing that matters right now.

Remorse burrows deep, heavy, and shaming, until it pulls you back to yourself - slowly, shakily, but enough to loosen the sobs caught in your throat.

You sniff and take a breath, a real one this time, ragged but yours.

Then, you shift in his arms, gently pressing against his chest to put space between you. His hold loosens, slowly, with a hesitation that tugs at something in you. As if he is reluctant to let you go. Still, he relents.

His flesh hand slides away first, but his metal one lingers, brushing through your hair one last time before settling on your shoulder. He keeps you close, his thumb brushing absentminded sweeps across your sweater.

His gaze never strays and it’s heavy. You can’t meet his eyes for long. They’re too full of that care you don’t deserve, the care he shows you in so many small gestures all the time.

So your gaze falls to the floor, but then you freeze again.

The broken shards that had glinted so mockingly against the floor just moments ago are gone. Instead, settled carefully on the coffee table as though it had never fallen at all, is the ornament.

Whole.

It takes you a moment to process it, to trust what you’re seeing. The cracks are gone, smoothed over seamlessly. The gleaming red glass catches the light of the Christmas tree, its golden little details shining like something out of a memory, timeless and unbroken. As beautiful and aesthetic as before.

For a moment, you even wonder if your eyes are playing tricks on you, but then you notice Wanda standing at the far side of the room. Her hands lower slowly, the telltale red glow of her magic fading from her fingertips.

She doesn’t say anything, doesn’t step closer - just tilts her head slightly, offering you the faintest, knowing smile. Her eyes are warm.

God, of course. You should have thought of that. It even makes you feel a little ridiculous. You live together with people who possess supernatural abilities, powers beyond comprehension. You should have thought of Wanda. How her hands could have mended it back together in seconds.

A choked breath stumbles out of you, somewhere between relief and disbelief. Bucky follows your gaze, his brows furrowing, only to soften when he sees the ornament resting perfectly intact on the table. He stares at it for a moment.

But then he looks back at you and his sweet smile could melt any ice this winter has to offer.

His flesh hand moves a few strands of hair out of your face and tugs them tenderly behind your ear. His hand stays on your cheek. “Told you it’s okay.”

You let out a shaky breath. “I still broke it,” you say, words slipping out quietly, somberly. Your gaze remains fixed on it. Wanda seems to have slipped out again.

“Stop,” Bucky cuts in, his voice more firm than before but still gentle as always. He shakes his head, moving closer to you again, gaze fixed on you.

You feel his hand brush against yours, but then his shoulders stiffen up. He stops. His eyes catch on something and his expression shifts in an instant.

“Jesus-” His frown deepens, something like a shadow crosses his eyes. Sharp eyes lock onto the red streaks lining your palm, the cuts where the shattered glass had broken your skin.

You hadn’t even realized you were still holding onto the pain - too caught up in everything else to notice the dull throb of your hand or the sting of the scratches.

“You’re bleeding. Why didn’t you say anything?” The words are a quiet exhale, soft but weighted. There is no reprimand in his voice, no anger - only concern coloring every syllable.

His thumb ghosts over your wrist, careful not to brush against the cuts. His intense gaze flickers from your injured hand to your face, searching your expression.

“It’s not a big deal-”

“Don’t.”

Bucky shakes his head. His jaw tightens and he exhales sharply through his nose. It’s not frustration - not with you, anyway. It’s something deeper, something that seems to pain him in his chest as he studies the scratches like they’re a personal failing.

“Bucky,” you say while trying to pull your hand back from his grasp when he tilts it more toward the light to get a better look. As if he hasn’t the eyesight of a super soldier.

“Doll. Let me see.” His lips press into a thin line, the faintest hint of exasperation ghosting across his face.

The sigh you let out drags down your chest and you don’t resist when Bucky keeps cradling your bleeding hand and studies the scratches. His brow is furrowed in concentration that feels too much for something so small.

You want to tell him it’s fine, that this is nothing, but the words die before they reach your tongue.

“Let’s get you fixed up,” he says tightly, the tone of his voice all business and leaving no room for argument.

But you shake your head. It’s your fault the ornament broke in the first place. You’re aware it’s whole again, but it was in shambles just moments earlier and you cut yourself thanks to your own stupidity.

“Bucky, you just got back from a mission-” you protest, your voice quieter than you’d like.

“Not too worried about myself right now, doll,” he interrupts, his voice insistent but warm. The hint of steel beneath his words not directed at you but at the way your guilt is still in control, trying to downplay yourself.

“Come on.” He says it softer now, but before you can argue any further, he’s already moving.

Without so much as a pause, Bucky stands and scoops you up into his arms as though it’s the most natural thing in the world.

You barely have a second to process the shift, before you’re pressed securely against his chest.

“Bucky!” you exclaim, startled, your uninjured hand reaching for his shoulder to steady yourself.

“Relax, doll. I’ve got you,” he murmurs, his voice low and almost amused, though his expression remains calm, focused.

You sigh again, but there is a laugh on your breath. “Buck, I can walk. You don’t have to-”

“Not hearing it,” he says simply, almost flatly. He just continues striding along the halls with you in his arms. His steps are heavier, but you know it’s not because of your weight. He holds you like you weigh nothing at all. “You’re hurt.”

That doesn’t sound like a plausible explanation to you, since you’ve come home with way worse injuries from missions over the last months alone. But the gruffness of his voice, the one that always accompanies him when you’re injured, no matter how small - the seriousness, the concern - it shuts you up for the time being.

You let your head rest against his shoulder. He smells a little like gunpowder and dust, but you only latch onto the parts that are him and breathe them in.

“I didn’t mean to break it, Bucky,” to whisper, gaze dropping to the tightly pressed ball that is your bloody fist. “I’m so sorry.”

You feel the intake of Bucky’s breath against your body and his eyes warmly falling down on you. You don’t meet his gaze.

“You didn’t break anything, sweetheart.” His voice is like velvet, brushing so softly against your skin. So reassuringly. So profoundly gentle. “You’re okay, doll. We’re okay. I promise.” His hands curl tighter around you.

You blink, your head tilting to glance up at him, and your breath catches when you meet his gaze.

It is intense. His brows are pulled together - not with anger, but with concern. Like the only things he cares about right now are the tears that linger in your eyes and the way you’re still trying to curl in on yourself, still letting your body slightly shake with the guilt that he refuses to let you carry.

Something stirs in your belly. Something flutters, as if thousands of tiny wings brush against the walls of you, demanding to be seen. To be felt.

Because you let your mind spiral so much earlier, bracing yourself for a reaction of disappointment, frustration - that flicker of something unnameable that might pull the two of you apart.

But it still isn’t there.

Not even close.

It’s the opposite, really.

[lizzyiii]

Hey girl hey. Hope you are still alive and life is treating you well. Just checking in.

you're so sweet for this omg. so ive graduated from high school, have this whole summer, but I can't really enjoy it since a broke girl's got to work. got my very first job and it's sooo draining, but I've got to get that bag

Sevenmas

pairing | aemond x wife!reader

word count | 9.2k words

summary | amid the haunting ruins of harrenhal, aemond's pregnant wife senses the looming threat of alys rivers, a witch whose presence fuels her nightmares and aemond's growing distance.

determined to protect her husband and unborn child, she delves into the secrets of warding magic, reclaiming her bond with aemond as she invites him back into her bed and vows to stand against the witch’s dark influence.

tags | 18+ (MDNI), smut, p in v sex, unprotected sex, pregnancy, magic, fluff, soft aemond, hubby aemond

a/n | it's summer, the heat is evident, yet I've only been at work or home. I needdd to leave my house!

likes comments and reblogs are much appreciated ✨

ᴍᴀsᴛᴇʀʟɪsᴛ

My Dearest Babe,

It has been a full moon since your father and I arrived at these dreary halls of Harrenhal. It is bleak here, cold and damp, and the walls seem to hold the whispers of the dead.

I have not known a single night’s rest since we set foot in this cursed place. My sleep grew all the more restless when your father saw fit to move me into a separate chamber.

Harrenhal weighs heavily upon him. It has changed him in ways I cannot yet understand. He walks the halls as if hunted, and I see the shadows of his unrest in his eyes.

Each night, his dreams twist into dark things—visions that wrench him from sleep, leaving him gasping as though clawing his way back to wakefulness. He grows ever more volatile, as if the very stones of Harrenhal press upon his mind, threatening to drive him to madness.

One night, he woke from a nightmare so violent, I feared for him. I reached out to calm him, but he struck out, not knowing it was I. I do not hold it against him—he was deep within whatever horror plagued him.

But he looked upon the bruise on my wrist with such anguish, fearing for my health and yours. It was then he resolved to put me in another room, to shield us both from his torments.

Yet, my sleep has only worsened since he made this change. This keep holds no comfort, only shadows and sighs, and I feel that something - someone - wicked watches us, waiting.

The sixth day of Sevenmas dawned in Harrenhal, a day to honor the Crone, she who carried the lantern of wisdom and foresight. How you longed for that guidance now, caught in the maze of cold stone walls and shadows that seemed to stretch into eternity.

The ancient keep, with its crumbling towers and halls seeped in ghosts of past horrors, gnawed at your spirit with every passing hour.

The days bled together, each as gray and listless as the last. Time itself felt suspended, and there was little to fill it but your prayers to the Seven and the slow, meticulous pull of thread and needle.

Embroidery was meant to calm the mind, but here it became another way for your thoughts to spiral into dark corners. How could you not let them when the halls echoed with whispers not your own and the air felt thick, laden with something unseen yet suffocating?

Your husband, Aemond, the prince with a fire in his blood and the shadow of the conqueror in his step, had become a stranger cloaked in duty.

Since Rhaenyra had laid siege to King's Landing, his days were consumed with strategy, flame-bright eyes scanning maps and murmuring with commanders until dawn kissed the horizon.

You would catch glimpses of him, his presence fierce and distant, a sword poised to strike. And still, there was one tether left—he would always return to break his fast with you, no matter the hour, as if the morning meal was a sacred pact he refused to break.

This shared ritual was a brief light in the gloom, a moment where his brow would smooth, and he would offer a small nod, as if to say, I am still here.

Yet even then, the weight of Harrenhal seemed to press upon him, creasing the corner of his eye and stealing the little warmth from his voice.

You wished for the strength of the Crone’s wisdom, to find words that could soothe whatever haunted him, whatever pulled him into those long, silent stretches where he barely met your gaze.

And so, with the sun’s first pale rays stretching over the stone battlements, you whispered a prayer to the Crone. Let me see what he cannot. Let me guard us in ways unseen.

There was another shadow cast over your time at Harrenhal, one that gnawed at your peace like a hound at a bone. Within the first week of your arrival, an attempt on Aemond’s life had been made, a sloppy affair that left more questions than answers.

Yet the mere notion of betrayal and blood sharpened Aemond’s already fierce nature into something perilously close to madness.

In his rage and paranoia, he swept through Harrenhal like a storm, burning and executing every male Strong—lords and bastards alike, sparing none.

The aftermath left the keep haunted by its own silence, populated mostly by women and children who dared not cross his path. Yet among the survivors, there was one who set your skin crawling like no other: Alys Rivers, the bastard daughter of Lionel Strong.

Her gaze, dark and knowing, seemed to pierce through you whenever it drifted your way. The keep’s old women, those who lingered in the kitchens and halls, were full of whispers, speaking in hushed tones about Alys and the tales that clung to her like a shroud.

They claimed she was a wet nurse with no babes of her own, that her cradle stayed empty because she offered her children to dark gods, drawing power from their sacrifices.

The word witch passed between toothless mouths with reverence and fear, a name that conjured images of blood and whispered spells in the dead of night.

You would catch Alys watching Aemond from the shadowed corners of the great hall, her green eyes glistening like the polished scales of a serpent.

There was something about the way she looked at him, a gaze that lingered too long, with a subtle curl to her lips that suggested she saw beyond what others did. Each time, a cold knot formed in your stomach, winding tighter with each day.

Aemond, for his part, seemed oblivious—or perhaps unwilling—to acknowledge her attention. He stalked the halls of Harrenhal like a restless dragon, his eyes always aflame with thoughts of war and vengeance.

But you, kept to the fringes and left with little to occupy your time, had learned to listen. You had overheard more than once the old wives’ tales, how the stones of Harrenhal bore witness to strange sights in the dark of night.

The morning light struggled to filter through the narrow, soot-streaked windows of Harrenhal’s great hall, casting long, somber shadows across the cold stone floor.

You sat at the grand table, an expanse of dark oak that seemed almost too vast with just the two of you seated at its head.

The hall’s emptiness swallowed the small noises of clinking silver and the rustle of fabric, leaving only the low crackle of a distant fire to break the silence.

You glanced at Aemond, his face severe and sharp as ever, eyes narrowed and distant as he picked at the bread before him. His hair, pale as moonlight, spilled over his shoulders, catching the dim glow of morning like polished silver.

You traced the line of his jaw with your gaze, noting the tautness there, the slight twitch that spoke of restless thoughts.

In truth, you did not know this man well—your husband, your prince, and yet a stranger in so many ways.

It had only been moons since you first met, and within days, the marriage vows were spoken, the ink on the alliance barely dry before you found yourself bound to him in name and in fate.

Your father’s fleet had been your dowry, a formidable power that the Greens could not afford to spurn. You understood your role, the politics and power that tethered you to Aemond, but understanding him was another matter entirely.

His silences were as deep and dark as the Blackwater, and he carried an anger that smoldered beneath his skin, an unquenchable flame that whispered of vengeance and old wounds.

But despite the cold armor of his demeanor, Aemond had never raised his voice nor his hand to you. He moved with a kind of carefulness in your presence, a restraint that bordered on gentleness.

He treated you with a respect that was rare among men of power, where wives were often little more than pawns on a board.

And though it was likely due to the child you carried beneath your heart, it kindled a small warmth within you to think that he had not left you behind when he marched to Harrenhal.

Instead, he had commanded that you come with him, a choice that puzzled you even as it comforted you.

Harrenhal was a desolate place, steeped in old, cracked stone and a history that groaned beneath every step. You despised it, with its drafty halls and the air that always seemed to taste of ashes.

Yet sitting here, across from Aemond as the thin light etched sharp lines across his face, you felt a reluctant flicker of gratitude.

The silence between you was not companionable, but it was not cruel either. It was a space where the two of you existed, tethered by duty and an unspoken understanding.

Your gaze lifted from your untouched plate to meet his. “You barely ate anything,” you ventured softly, the words almost swallowed by the great hall’s vastness.

Aemond’s eye flickered to you, just a moment of acknowledgment, before drifting back to the distant, unfocused point beyond the hall’s great hearth. “I have much on my mind,” he replied, his voice low and guarded, as always.

You lowered your gaze, the golden glint of your cup catching the flicker of the fire as you turned it in your hands. “Today is the day of the Crone,” you murmured, the soft words drifting into the vast emptiness of the hall.

Aemond’s eye settled on you again, this time with a sharper intensity, as if he were trying to read the thoughts that played behind your eyes. The violet of his gaze, stark and unyielding, seemed to see through flesh and bone.

You felt the heat rise to your cheeks but pushed on, lifting your head with a tentative, almost sheepish smile.

“I have been holding small celebratory suppers in my chambers for each of the Seven,” you said, the words trembling on the cusp of hope. “Perhaps you would join me tonight?”

Aemond’s expression remained inscrutable, carved from the same marble as the gods whose names you spoke. He was silent, his lips pressed into a thin line as he measured the request. You held your breath, bracing for the sting of rejection, but after a moment, he inclined his head with a slow, deliberate nod.

“I shall see if I am free to attend later, wife,” he replied, each syllable precise, as if spoken under a watchful eye.

A smile unfurled across your face, a small, fragile bloom that brightened the somber air. You nodded, your gratitude silent but deeply felt, and returned your attention to the meal before you.

The hall fell back into its familiar hush, but the silence seemed gentler, softened by the promise—no matter how uncertain—that he might sit with you as the evening drew near.

Throughout the day, you moved with a purpose that had been absent for some time. Excitement flickered within you, casting a rare warmth over the bleakness of Harrenhal’s cold stone walls.

You spent more time preparing yourself than you had in weeks, choosing a gown of deep violet, the color rich and regal, one you knew would match Aemond’s eye.

Your hands worked carefully as you braided your hair, fingers weaving strands with practiced precision. You wound the braids into a half-up style, securing them with thin silver pins, and threaded small pearls between the coils, their soft luster catching the waning light that seeped through the chamber’s narrow window slits.

As the sun dipped lower, you prepared the chamber for supper, eager to cast away the dreariness of Harrenhal’s stone embrace. The table, though small, was set with care.

You placed a modest arrangement of primroses at its center, their pale petals lending a touch of softness to the somber room.

Candles, thick and tapered, were placed with a meticulous eye, their wicks waiting to be lit and offer a warm glow that would banish the shadows lurking in the corners.

Tonight was meant to honor the Crone, a day of wisdom and reflection, yet you could not help but hope for something more—a chance to share a moment, however fleeting, with the man you called husband.

The hours had been long since you’d known any touch of intimacy, any whisper of companionship. The prospect of Aemond joining you, even for a brief supper, was enough to make your heart beat with anticipation.

Time stretched on, heavy and unyielding, as you sat alone at the small table in your chambers, a solitary figure in a room filled with muted light. The food before you, once steaming and fragrant, had grown cold, the sheen of oil on the meats congealing in the chill air.

The candles you had lit earlier had burned down to stubs, their light dwindling as shadows crept up the walls.

The fire in the hearth, once crackling with warmth, had reduced itself to a bed of glowing embers, the last vestiges of heat sputtering as they surrendered to the draft that snaked through the stones.

Your heart, which had quickened with hope earlier in the day, now felt leaden with disappointment. The silence pressed in around you, each passing moment a reminder that Aemond would not come. The anticipation that had kept your spirits aloft now left a hollow ache in its absence.

Pushing your untouched plate away, you rose from the table, your movements deliberate as anger stirred in your chest. It was not the hot, reckless kind, but the slow-burning indignation that came when expectation was met with silence.

You wrapped your cloak around your shoulders and slipped into the dim corridor, determined to find him, to seek an answer rather than stew in this quiet, stinging rejection.

Harrenhal’s halls were a maze of stone and shadow, empty and vast, with only the sound of your footsteps echoing softly in the cold. The castle held a thousand whispered secrets, and tonight, it seemed eager to keep its prince among them.

You turned corners and climbed staircases, the flicker of dying torches casting your shadow long against the walls, until the familiar paths grew strange and your resolve wavered.

Finally, as you entered a lesser hall that stretched toward a wing of old chambers, you spotted movement—a maidservant carrying linens, her head bent as if afraid to be seen. Relief mixed with frustration as you quickened your step.

“Excuse me,” you called out, your voice sharper than intended.

The servant started, nearly dropping her burden before bowing her head hastily, eyes fixed to the floor. It was a common sight in Harrenhal, the way they kept their gaze averted in your presence.

Word of your husband’s fierce reputation as Prince Regent and Kinslayer had traveled swiftly, and it seemed they feared that to slight you was to invite his wrath upon them.

With a lifted chin and a tone that brooked no disobedience, you asked, “Where is my husband?”

Before the maid could stammer out an answer, another voice cut through the dim hallway—a voice that chilled the blood in your veins and haunted your sleep with its whispers.

“I fear the prince is still occupied in the council chamber, my lady,” said Alys Rivers, her tone smooth and deceptively courteous, like the edge of a blade.

You turned slowly, meeting her gaze. Her eyes were dark, unreadable, but a knowing smirk pulled at her lips as she regarded you, taking in the sight of your tense shoulders, the protective way your hand drifted instinctively to your rounded stomach.

There was no warmth in her expression, only the sly amusement of a cat toying with a bird that dared to stray too far from its nest.

Your nostrils flared, and you straightened your back, eyes narrowing as you corrected her in a low, simmering murmur, “Princess.”

Alys tilted her head, feigning surprise, though her eyes betrayed nothing but a cold mirth. “Pardon me,” she said, her gaze sliding deliberately to your abdomen before flicking back up to meet yours, daring you to react.

“I am not your lady,” you hissed, “I am your princess.”

With a final, steely glare, you turned on your heel, the folds of your violet gown sweeping the floor as you made your way back through the shadowed hallways, heart pounding beneath your ribs.

The silence of Harrenhal enveloped you once more, and you did not pause until you reached the safety of your chambers, locking the door behind you and pressing your back against the cool, unyielding wood.

The echo of Alys’s smirk lingered in your mind, but you would not let her see your fear. Not tonight. Not ever.

A scream ripped from your throat, raw and primal, as the pain surged through you, tearing its way up your spine and scattering your senses. It felt as though your very body was being split apart, the agony sharper and deeper than any blade.

“Keep pushing, my princess; the babe is almost here,” urged the midwife, her voice steady but relentless.

You clenched your jaw, wanting to curse her, to scream at her to hold her tongue, but the pain stole all words from you, leaving you breathless and shaking.

It was a torment that came in relentless waves, each cresting higher than the last, only to drag you under when you thought you could surface for air. The burning, the stretching—unbearable, blinding.

“I cannot,” you sobbed, tears mingling with the sweat that drenched your brow. “Please… I can't,” you pleaded, your voice broken and desperate.

The pain surged again, stealing the air from your lungs, and then you felt it—a firm, familiar hand pressed gently to your cheek. Through the haze of pain, you turned your head, and your vision cleared just enough to see the sharp lines of Aemond’s face.

His single violet eye was intent, fierce, a rare expression of vulnerability breaking through his stoic mask. Relief, so profound it was nearly painful, swelled in your chest.

“Aemond,” you gasped, his name a lifeline, an anchor in the storm.

Husbands were not meant to be present for the birth, tradition forbade it. But he was there, and you did not care for any rule or rite that would keep him away.

“Just a few more pushes, my love,” he murmured, his voice low, a thread of steel woven through the gentleness.

You nodded weakly, mustering what remained of your strength. A deep groan escaped you as you pushed once more, the room spinning around you. The midwife’s voice rose above the roaring in your ears.

“The babe is crowning, my lady.”

But the tone was wrong. Too familiar, too cold. Alarm jolted you to consciousness, and you struggled to prop yourself on trembling elbows. Your eyes darted to the space at the foot of the birthing bed, and dread coiled tight in your gut.

There, in the dim light of the chamber, knelt Alys Rivers. Her dark hair framed eyes as green and sharp as glass, eyes that glimmered with a knowing, malevolent gleam. A smile curled at the corners of her lips as she met your gaze.

“No, no!” you screamed, panic twisting your voice. “Get away from me!”

With a surge of fear-driven strength, you tried to kick her away, your limbs thrashing wildly, but Aemond’s hands clamped down on you, firm and unyielding. “Calm yourself,” he commanded, his voice cool, steady as stone.

Alys turned her gaze up to him, a shadow of mock sympathy curving her lips. “You must choose, my prince,” she intoned, each word dripping with false solemnity. “The babe, or your wife.”

A sob wrenched from your chest as you felt your breath come in sharp, shallow gasps. “No. No!” The pain was drowned beneath the torrent of fear that flooded you.

Desperately, you looked up at Aemond, seeking the warmth, the fierce protection that once resided in his eye. But what you found was a gaze distant and unreadable, as though he stood apart, watching from some cold, unreachable place. His jaw tightened. “Save the babe.”

Time seemed to fracture around you. His words, so final, crashed over you like a wave of ice. Your eyes widened, disbelieving, as rough handmaids or shadows, you could not tell—pressed you back, holding you firm as you struggled.

“Let me go! Let me go!” you screamed, your voice raw with betrayal and terror, limbs straining against the iron grip that pinned you.

Pain cleaved through you, and you felt the weight of the babe shift within. But your focus broke as Alys moved, no longer at the foot of the bed but gliding closer, the flicker of torchlight catching on the edge of a cruel, glinting blade.

The chamber seemed to darken around her, the faint cries of the midwives fading into an ominous silence. And all you could see were those green eyes, bearing down on you like a curse whispered in the dark.

You jolted upright, heart pounding and breath ragged, the remnants of your nightmare clinging to your skin like a shroud. A trembling hand reached up to brush the tears from your cheeks, the dampness proof of the terror that had gripped you in sleep.

Your eyes drifted down, catching the soft curve of your swollen belly under the covers, rising and falling with your shallow breaths. A shaky sigh escaped your lips, a bitter mix of relief and unease.

The babe was still safe within you—at least for now. You pressed your palm over it, as if to reassure yourself of its presence.

Beyond the thin light filtering through the shuttered window, the sky remained cloaked in the indigo of night.

The stillness told you it was not yet dawn, that liminal time when dreams and waking often blurred. But sleep would not find you again; not after that vision, nor for many nights to come, you were sure.

The memory of Aemond's cold, detached gaze as he spoke words that sealed your fate in your dream clung to you. It pierced deeper than any blade, a wound festering with fear and doubt.

Yet you forced yourself to swallow the sharp sting of betrayal, directing your thoughts toward another source of your unease—Alys Rivers.

The whispers, the eyes that followed, the dark air that seemed to shift when she was near. Your fears, your husband’s torment, the sense of something wicked gnawing at Harrenhal’s bones—it all traced back to her.

Resolve steeled your spine. You pushed back the covers and rose, the weight of your pregnancy making the motion slower, more deliberate.

Wrapping yourself in a heavy fur cloak, you reached for the candelabra on the nightstand. Its small flame sputtered in protest before catching steady, casting long shadows that danced upon the walls.

The corridors of Harrenhal, once alive with whispered conversations and the hurried footfalls of servants, now loomed around you in cold, watchful silence. The draft that crept through the ancient stones nipped at your cheeks and sent a shiver down your spine.

Clutching the fur tighter against your body, you moved forward, the warm light in your grasp flickering as it met the draft.

The silence was thick, broken only by the soft rustle of your cloak and the creak of old floorboards beneath your weight.

At last, you reached the great doors of the library, their dark wood carved with sigils long forgotten and gnarled from centuries of use. Setting the candelabra down, you pushed against one of the doors, muscles straining with the effort.

It groaned open, the sound reverberating through the stillness and sending a cold gust rushing past you. Picking up the candelabra, you stepped inside and let the heavy door drift shut behind you with a thud.

The scent of old parchment and dust surrounded you, familiar and oddly comforting. Shelves stretched high, towering sentinels filled with the stories of old and the wisdom of those long gone.

On other nights, you would have lost yourself in the tales that wove through these tomes—myths and sagas that spoke of courage and triumph. But tonight, solace was not what you sought.

You moved through the rows with purpose, eyes scanning the spines until they found those few volumes that hinted at the arcane.

The lore of witches, their dark arts, the means by which they could twist men’s dreams and cloud their minds—it all lay within reach, hidden among dusty pages that no one dared speak of.

You placed the candelabra down, its light casting a golden glow that flickered across the cracked leather and faded titles.

With trembling hands, you opened the first book, its binding stiff with age. The parchment crackled as you turned the pages, your eyes drinking in the inked words.

If there was any way to guard yourself, to protect Aemond from the shadows that had seeped into your lives, you would find it here. No longer would you be haunted by that witch’s knowing gaze or the dread that coiled tight in your belly.

With each turn of the page, the flickering glow of the candelabra cast dancing shapes upon the stone walls, warding off the chill that seeped through Harrenhal’s blackened stones.

The words spoke of charms and tokens, of age-old rituals whispered by the smallfolk who feared the unseen.

Marking doors with protective sigils or crosses to ward off malevolent forces. The purifying strength of salt, said to bar dark spirits and their ilk. Rowan wood, revered for its protective properties, best used when tied with crimson thread to seal its potency.

The hours crept by, measured by the slow guttering of candle wax. You read, forgetting the passage of time as the nightmare’s claws loosened their grip on your heart.

Knowledge was your weapon now, and you wielded it with the silent promise that neither you nor Aemond would fall victim to powers unknown.

The day’s first light spilled through the high, narrow windows, a pale and hesitant glow that bled into the room and painted the bookshelves in muted gold.

It was the day of the Stranger, seldom celebrated, yet you paid it no heed. Lost in the pages, you missed the bells that tolled the hour and forgot the warmth of your usual morning meal shared with Aemond.

When at last you closed the final volume, a resolve settled in your chest, resolute and unyielding. You would need these items—symbols of protection—and that meant venturing beyond the castle’s shadowed halls and out into the market.

The fur-lined cloak wrapped snug around you, guarding against the bitter drafts that swept through the corridors as you made your way back to your chambers.

As you reached the windows, a rare sight unfolded before your eyes—snow, soft and unrelenting, blanketing the bleak spires of Harrenhal.

Snow was a rarity in King’s Landing, seldom seen during your girlhood there. For a moment, untouched by fear or doubt, you felt the stir of childish wonder rise within you.

Three knights of the Kingsguard, their white cloaks pristine even in the snow, flanked you as you ventured to the market. The square bustled despite the cold, vendors calling out their wares with voices hoarse from the chill. Your list of protective items, hastily scrawled in the early hours, guided your every step.

Surprisingly, the rowan wood was easy to find, its branches bundled tightly with red thread as per custom.

Charms of polished crystal and talismans wrought from iron and bronze were procured with little effort, their sellers eager to part with them for a handful of silver stags.

The murmured blessings from the old crones at their stalls made the hair on the back of your neck prickle, but you pressed on, their eyes shadowed with both reverence and suspicion.

By the time the sun began its descent, casting a gilded glow over the snow-draped stones of Harrenhal, your arms were laden with your newfound protections. You returned to your chambers with purpose, setting to work immediately.

With meticulous care, you bound the red thread around the twigs of rowan wood and placed them above each entrance.

Salt, precious and fine, was spread across the thresholds, each grain catching the firelight like scattered stars.

With charcoal from your writing desk, you etched intricate symbols—wards against dark magics—onto the cold, unyielding stone walls.

But it was not just your own safety you sought to secure. For Aemond, you had combed the market for a piece both practical and protective. After much haggling, you procured a leather eyepatch, supple and black, unmarred by wear.

Returning to your chamber, you carefully stitched shards of black tourmaline into its edge, each piece glinting with a subtle, protective gleam. Your needlework was steady, each pull of the thread imbued with silent prayers.

Lost in your task, you barely noted the soft knock at your door or the maidservant who entered, setting a tray of supper on the table near the hearth.

The aroma of roasted fowl and warm bread wafted through the chamber, but your focus remained fixed.

As you worked by the fire's glow, the shadows that had haunted your waking hours seemed to lessen, replaced by the steady rhythm of thread and needle, and the quiet resolve that this time, you would be ready.

You were so absorbed in your needlework, fingers deftly stitching the dark crystals onto a supple leather patch, that the sudden clearing of a throat startled you. Your gaze snapped up, eyes wide with surprise as they met the cool, familiar face of Aemond Targaryen.

“Husband,” you said, breathless as you hastily hid the finished eye patch beneath a velvet pillow. Rising to your feet, you inclined your head, though your heart thudded with residual tension.

He stood tall and imposing in the dim glow, the silver-white of his hair catching the light like a crown. For a moment, the room felt smaller, as if the walls themselves pressed in with the weight of his presence.

“What brings you here?” you asked, voice touched with confusion and a hint of sharpness. Exhaustion dulled your sense of propriety, leaving the question more pointed than intended.

Aemond’s lone violet eye narrowed, an unreadable glimmer within its depths. “To have supper with you,” he replied, as if such a thing were the most natural answer in the realm.

Your eyes flickered to the table, where two silver plates now sat, the steam rising lazily from the dishes set by the silent servant moments before.

You pressed your lips into a thin line and sighed, murmuring, “I believe my invitation was for yesterday.”

A shadow of regret crossed his face, so brief that another might have missed it, but you saw. As you moved past him to take your seat, you caught the soft murmur that slipped from his lips, “I deserved that.”

Aemond followed and took his place across from you, the creak of the chair echoing in the quiet chamber. For a moment, silence hung between you, broken only by the faint crackle of the hearthfire. His gaze settled on you, sharp and searching.

“I have not seen you at all today,” he said at last, the words carrying a hint of something that might have been longing, tempered by pride.

Your eyes dropped to your hands, fingers fiddling absently with the edge of your gown. Remorse pricked at your heart—you had broken your shared morning ritual, the one part of the day reserved just for the two of you.

“I was very busy,” you replied softly, the excuse feeling thin on your tongue.

Aemond’s expression remained unreadable as he tilted his head slightly. “I heard. Visits to the market square,” he said.

You hesitated, holding back the details of the charms, the salt, the ancient warding sigils you had traced with trembling hands. He would only deem you foolish or worse, mad.

“I needed fresh air.”

His eye narrowed, a flicker of displeasure passing over his sharp features. “It is too dangerous for one in your condition to wander beyond these walls,” he said, the admonishment clear, though his tone held an undercurrent of concern.

You lifted your chin, meeting his gaze with defiance. “That is why I took three of your White Cloaks,” you retorted, the fire in your voice matching the spark in his eye.

For a heartbeat, the tension crackled between you, the weight of unsaid words pressing down like a heavy cloak. Then, Aemond’s lips quirked, almost imperceptibly, as if some silent battle had been waged and resolved within him.

“Good,” he said at last, a faint smirk playing at the corner of his mouth. “You are no fool, wife.”

The tautness in the room eased, and though unspoken, an accord was reached.

Aemond leaned forward, and placed a carved wooden box on the table between you. “I’ve brought you something,” he said, his voice a measured calm, yet there was an undercurrent of something softer. “An apology for last night.”

Your brows knit together, skepticism clear in your eyes. “My forgiveness cannot be bought with trinkets, husband,” you said, your tone edged with defiance. Yet even as you spoke, curiosity stirred within you.

One of his silver brows arched at your remark, and a small smile ghosted his lips. “Let us see if it is worthy,” you murmured, reluctant to give ground but unable to hide the intrigue that tugged at you.

With a careful hand, Aemond lifted the lid of the box, revealing a necklace of silver and sapphire. The deep blue stone glimmered like the sea under moonlight, capturing the room’s faint candle glow.

Your breath stilled for a moment, eyes tracing the intricate work of the silver links, each carved to mimic dragon scales.

Your fingertips brushed over the gem, the cool surface grounding you as warmth bloomed in your chest. Unbidden, a soft smile tugged at your lips, an expression so rare that even you felt its presence.

“Thank you, husband,” you whispered, your voice softened by genuine gratitude.

Aemond’s face shifted, pride flickering across his sharp features. There was something triumphant in his half-smirk that you could not allow him to savor unchallenged. You rose from your seat, skirts rustling as you moved.

“I, too, have a gift for you,” you said, your tone now light with a note of playfulness.

“Oh?” he replied, one silver eyebrow lifting in surprise, though the glint in his lone violet eye revealed his interest.

“Mm,” you hummed, stepping to the chaise where a small cushion lay. Your fingers slipped beneath it, retrieving the item hidden there. Turning back to him, a touch of shyness colored your expression, a rare sight that softened the lines of your face.

With both hands, you presented him with an eye patch, the black leather supple and embroidered with fine strands of broken tourmaline crystals, catching the dim light with a subtle shimmer.

Aemond took it, surprise giving way to careful scrutiny. His fingers traced the delicate work, the weight of the crystals and their arrangement thoughtful.

“Black tourmaline,” you said quietly, watching his gaze flick between you and the patch. “It is said to have powerful protective qualities.”

You hesitated, unwilling to speak of how it was also believed to ward against dark energies and unseen dangers—of how it might shield him from threats both known and hidden.

For a moment, silence stretched between you, thick with unspoken words. Aemond’s mouth quirked into a faint smile, rare and genuine. “Thank you, wife. 'Tis a very thoughtful gift,” he said, voice low and sincere.

A moment passed, and you froze in silent shock as Aemond reached up to remove the eye patch he wore. Of course, you had seen what lay beneath—the striking sapphire set into the hollow of his missing eye—but Aemond was never keen on showing it.

In King’s Landing, he would only take it off moments before sleep and replace it the moment he awoke.

Before he could put on the new eye patch, you placed a hand over his arm. “You know you don’t have to wear it around me, yes? I have no issue with it, and you should not either.”

Aemond stared at you for a long moment, his nostrils flaring slightly. For a heartbeat, you feared you had overstepped, but then he nodded, leaving both eye patches on the table.

A small, victorious smile touched your lips as you felt the weight of this unspoken understanding between you. “Allow me to have the maids bring us some dessert,” you said, the tension lifting.

Aemond nodded, his gaze lingering on you as you turned to the doors.

Stepping into the corridor, you quickly found a maid and requested something sweet to be brought to your chambers. When you returned, your heart faltered at the sight before you. Aemond stood at your desk, his tall frame hunched slightly as he leaned over an open book—your journal.

Panic surged within you, and you strode forward, slamming the book shut with a sharp motion. “What are you doing?” you demanded, your voice sharper than intended, eyes wide with both shock and alarm.

Aemond straightened, holding the closed journal in his hand. His expression was unreadable, though his eye bore into you with quiet intensity. “What is this?” he asked evenly, tilting the book slightly for emphasis.

“My private journal,” you answered quickly, reaching for it, but he lifted it just out of your grasp, his superior height giving him the advantage. “Give it back, husband. It is mine.”

Aemond’s voice was steady but carried an undertone of something raw, almost fragile. “Then why,” he began, his eye fixed on you, ignoring your protests, “do you write to our babe?” There was an ache in his tone, a depth of emotion he hadn’t yet voiced.

The question caught you unprepared, stealing the breath from your lungs. Your fingers tightened around the fabric of your skirts, and your shoulders sagged as you avoided his penetrating gaze. “In case,” you whispered, the words trembling as they left your lips.

“In case of what?” he pressed, his voice low and edged with a demand for understanding.

His gaze bore into you, unrelenting, as though he could uncover your secrets by sheer will. Unable to face him, you closed your eyes and let out a shaky sigh. “In case I’m not there,” you admitted at last, the words barely audible, like a confession carried on the wind.

Aemond’s brows drew together, confusion shadowing his features. “What do you mean if you’re not—” He stopped mid-sentence, his breath catching as realization dawned. The tension in his posture shifted, his shoulders falling ever so slightly. “…There.”

His sharp features softened, a rare vulnerability settling over his face. “Women do survive the childbed,” he murmured, his voice gentler now, as though he feared the weight of his words might shatter you.

“Not every time,” you countered, your tone edged with resignation. “And there’s also… that choice.” Your voice broke on the last word, and you felt the tears prick at the corners of your eyes.

The room fell into a heavy silence, broken only by the faint crackling of the fire. Then, with a tenderness that made your heart ache, Aemond reached out and cupped your cheek.

His touch was warm, his thumb brushing lightly against your skin as he tilted your face toward him, forcing your eyes to meet his.

“There can be more babes,” he said softly, his words a promise etched with fierce determination, “but there is only one you.”

His eye, a storm of violet and sapphire, held yours with such intensity that you felt as though he was laying his very soul bare. A tear escaped and traced down your cheek, but Aemond caught it with his thumb, his touch steady, grounding you in the moment.

“I would not choose otherwise,” he said firmly, the weight of his vow lingering in the air between you. “Not for all the heirs in the realm.”

Your lips trembled as you whispered, “You swear?”

“I swear it,” he replied, his voice low and resolute. “I will not lose my wife.”

The ache in your chest eased slightly, the warmth of his words wrapping around you like a shield. You placed your hand over his, pressing it gently against your cheek.

With a soft breath, you tilted your head upward, letting your lips meet his in a gentle caress. The kiss was tender at first, a quiet exchange of affection that carried the weight of your unspoken fears and his unyielding promise.

Aemond responded eagerly, his lips pressing more firmly against yours as his hand slid from your cheek to cradle the nape of your neck.

His other hand found your waist, gripping you firmly as he pulled you closer, as if the mere thought of distance was unbearable. His tongue brushed against your lips, seeking entrance, and you granted it willingly.

As his tongue met yours, the kiss deepened, a slow, fervent dance that sent warmth coursing through your veins. A soft moan escaped your lips, and you felt his grip on your waist tighten in response, his fingers digging into the fabric of your gown.

Your hands moved up his chest, tracing the hard planes of muscle beneath his tunic, before curling into the fabric as if to anchor yourself.

The world around you faded, leaving only the press of his body against yours, the taste of him on your lips, and the heat that built between you like the fire crackling in the hearth.

When the kiss broke, it was with a reluctance that lingered in the air between you. Your breaths came in shallow pants as you gazed up at him through hooded lashes, the corners of your lips curving into a teasing smile.

“My love,” you purred, your voice sultry and laced with affection, “you’ve left me wanting… again.”

Aemond’s gaze darkened, the stormy hue of his violet eye smoldering with barely restrained desire. “Have I now?” he murmured, his voice low and velvety, the faintest smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. “Then it seems I must remedy that, wife.”

You guided his hands lower, to the swell of your belly, then further down to the hem of your nightgown. “Will you show me how much you desire me?” you asked, your voice a sultry whisper. “Make me forget everything but the feel of you inside me...”

A low growl rumbled in Aemond's throat as his hands moved beneath your gown, fingers tracing the curves of your swollen belly before dipping lower to find the damp heat of your core.

“You have no idea how often I dreamt of this,” he murmured, his breath hot against your ear. “Of burying myself deep within you, feeling your walls clench around me...”

With a swift motion, he lifted the hem of your nightgown and pulled it over your head, throwing it aside, revealing your naked form.

His gaze devoured every inch of you, from the full breasts that rose and fell with each ragged breath, to the soft, rounded hips and the glistening folds of your sex.

“Tell me what you want, my queen,” he commanded, his voice husky with desire.

A shiver ran through you at Aemond's bold appraisal, your nipples hardening into tight peaks as his hungry gaze seared your skin. You reached for the fastenings of his breeches, your fingers fumbling with urgency to free his straining erection.

“I want you,” you murmured, your voice low, thick with a desire that lingered like a soft melody in the air. Your eyes never left his, the depth of your longing laid bare in the way your breath hitched.

Aemond’s violet gaze darkened, the flicker of a smirk ghosting his lips. His head tilted ever so slightly, a predator’s grace, as though savoring your words before acting upon them.

You took a step back, your movements slow and deliberate, your footsteps light against the floor as you inched toward the bed. The flicker of the firelight cast a warm glow across the room, the shadows dancing across the carved posts of the bed.

As you reached its edge, you let yourself fall gracefully onto the soft mattress, your body sinking into the luxurious furs and silks. Propping yourself up on your elbows, you gazed at him through lowered lashes, a sly smile curving your lips.

“You beckon me so boldly,” he murmured, his voice a low, velvet drawl, the faintest edge of amusement laced within it. “Have a care, wife, for I am not a man to resist such temptation.”

Aemond watched, transfixed, as you sank onto the bed, the mattress creaking under your weight. His cock throbbed in time with his racing heart, the tip already glistening with precum.

He shed his clothes the rest of the way, letting them fall carelessly to the floor as he stalked towards you, muscles rippling with each step. By the time he reached the bed, he was fully erect, his shaft jutting proudly from a nest of silver curls.

Lying beside you, he reached out to cup your breast, thumbing the sensitive peak before leaning in to capture your mouth in another searing kiss.

His free hand trailed over your round stomach, pausing to tease the edge of your slit before delving deeper, fingers probing your slick folds.

“You're so wet for me already.”

You gasped into the kiss as Aemond's fingers found your entrance, your hips bucking instinctively to meet his touch. “Please,” you whimpered, breaking away from his mouth to gaze up at him with pleading eyes. “I need you inside me. Fill me up, make me yours again.”

As if sensing your desperation, Aemond positioned himself between your thighs, the broad head of his cock nudging insistently at your opening. With a deep groan, he thrust forward, sheathing himself to the hilt in one powerful stroke.

You cried out at the sudden intrusion, your back arching off the bed as waves of pleasure-pain crashed over you. It took a moment for your body to adjust, to relax and welcome the thick length filling you so completely.

Aemond's breath hitched as he bottomed out inside you, your velvety walls gripping him like a vice. For a moment, he simply savored the exquisite sensation, reveling in the tight heat enveloping his throbbing cock.

Then, with a slow, deliberate withdrawal, he pulled almost all the way out before slamming back in, setting a relentless pace.

The bed frame creaked ominously beneath the force of his thrusts, but Aemond paid it no mind, lost in the primal rhythm of rutting his mate.

“Yes, just like that,” he growled, his hips snapping forward with increasing urgency. “Take my cock, my queen.”

You wrapped your legs around Aemond's waist, heels digging into his firm behind as he pounded into you with wild abandon.

Each brutal thrust sent shockwaves of ecstasy coursing through your veins, your inner walls fluttering wildly around his pistoning shaft.

“Aemond!” You wailed, your nails raking down his back as you met his ferocious pace.

The obscene slap of flesh against flesh filled the room, punctuated by my wanton cries and Aemond's guttural grunts. You could feel the pressure building within you, coiling tighter and tighter like a spring ready to snap.

Suddenly, you were hurtling over the edge, your orgasm crashing through you like a tidal wave. You screamed his name as your cunt clenched rhythmically around him, milking his cock for all it was worth.

Aemond's eye rolled back in his head as your velvet sheath spasmed around him, your climax triggering his own. With a hoarse groan, he buried himself to the hilt and came undone, his seed erupting in thick, pulsing jets.

He continued to thrust through the aftershocks, prolonging your shared bliss until he was spent, collapsing beside you with a grunt. For a long moment, the two of you lay entwined, chests heaving as you struggled to catch your breath.

The chamber was awash with the warmth of the firelight and the quiet hum of your contentment. As you lay entwined, your bodies barely a breath apart, your gaze lingered on Aemond’s face.

His sharp features, so often hardened by duty and war, were softened now, his violet eye fixed on you with a tenderness rarely seen.

Your noses brushed lightly, a quiet intimacy, as his hand rested possessively over your waist while yours splayed across his chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heart.

Almost as if drawn by a spell, he leaned forward, pressing a feather-light kiss to your lips, a gesture so gentle it felt like a whispered promise. When he pulled away, he settled back onto the pillow beside you, his arm still wrapped protectively around you.

You shifted, nestling closer, your head finding solace in the crook of his neck. Your hand lay over his heart, its steady rise and fall a soothing cadence that began to lull you into slumber.

His breathing slowed, each exhale a soft brush against your hair, and soon, the quiet comfort of his presence drew you into a deep, dreamless sleep.

But the peace did not last.

You jolted awake, startled by the sudden thrashing of Aemond’s body beside you. His face, so serene moments ago, was now contorted in anguish, his brow slick with sweat.

His breaths came in sharp, uneven gasps, and his hands clenched the sheets as if warding off some unseen terror.

Your heart clenched at the sight. He had spoken little of his nightmares, but you knew they haunted him—a torment born of battles fought, losses endured, and burdens carried.

Pushing yourself up, you moved with as much haste as your swollen belly would allow, the weight of your pregnancy slowing you only slightly.

Grabbing the robe draped over the chair, you wrapped it around yourself, its soft fabric barely warding off the chill of the room as you padded toward the small table where you had placed your new goods.

Your hands rummaged through the items with purpose, your fingers finally curling around a small vial. You held it up, peering at its contents even in the dim light. The faint, familiar scent already began to calm your racing heart.

Lavender oil.

You returned to the bed, the vial clutched firmly in your grasp. As you sat beside him, Aemond's thrashing began to subside, though his breaths were still ragged, and his jaw clenched tightly.

Carefully, you uncorked the vial, the soothing aroma of lavender wafting into the room. You poured a small amount onto your hands, warming the oil between your palms before leaning over him.

With gentle, deliberate movements, you began to anoint his temples, your touch light yet firm as you traced small, calming circles.

The oil left a faint sheen on his skin, its scent filling the space between you. "Aemond," you whispered softly, your voice low and steady, a tether pulling him back from the depths of his nightmare.

His breathing began to slow, the tension in his body easing under your ministrations. You moved to his wrists, massaging the oil into his pulse points, your hands steady despite the ache blooming in your lower back.

“You are safe,” you murmured, your lips brushing against his ear. “I am here.”

You whispered a silent prayer under your breath, invoking the gods for protection and peace. Your gaze stayed fixed on him, your heart clenching as you watched his features begin to soften, the tension melting away.

You held your breath, waiting. When his form finally stilled, his breathing evening out, you let out a soft sigh of relief. The lavender and your quiet vigil had worked.

Exhaustion weighed heavily upon you, and you slid back into bed beside him, pulling the covers over the both of you. But just as you were about to lay your head against Aemond’s chest, you froze.

A chill ran down your spine, and the hairs on your arms stood on end as an inexplicable sensation swept over you.

You were being watched.

Your eyes darted to the chamber doors, which you now noticed were slightly ajar. Beyond them, barely visible in the darkness, you caught the faint glimmer of glowing green eyes.

Your heart raced, a primal fear coursing through you. The air seemed to thicken, heavy with an unseen presence.

But you steadied yourself, your breathing slowing as you reminded yourself of the protections you had set in place earlier that day.

You had taken every precaution, warding the chamber with runes and incantations, ensuring that no ill intent could cross its threshold. Alys Rivers might wield her strange gifts, but she would not claim Aemond—not without a fight.

With a courage you hadn’t known you possessed, you tightened your arms around Aemond’s sleeping form, drawing strength from the warmth of his body against yours. Lifting your chin, you stared directly into the glowing eyes, refusing to show weakness.

“I won’t let you have him,” you whispered fiercely, your voice a low, steady vow. “Not without a fight, witch.”

For a moment, the air seemed to hold its breath. The green eyes lingered for a moment longer, unblinking and cold, before retreating into the darkness.

Only when the oppressive feeling lifted did you allow yourself to exhale. A trembling sigh escaped your lips as you lowered your head, nestling into Aemond’s chest. His heartbeat, steady and strong beneath your ear, became a soothing rhythm, lulling you out of your fear.

As the night enveloped you once more, you clung to him, your resolve unshaken. Whatever forces sought to disturb your peace, you would face them.

For Aemond, for your babe, for the family you were building together—you would fight.

Hope You Enjoyed!

[astonmartinii]

day four: rock(ette)ing around the christmas tree

pairing: pierre gasly x fem rockette reader

high kicks this, high kicks that, pierre is ready to kick off because his job is getting in the way of his festive wag duties

MASTERLIST | TIP JAR

yourusername

liked by pierregasly, charles_leclerc and 238,044 others

yourusername: back in the concrete jungle wet dream tomato for another round of rockette duty !!!

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user1: how does it feel to live my dream

user2: its not fair that 1. she’s a literal rockette 2. looks like that and 3. is with a whole ass f1 driver ???

user3: everyone saying that she’s lucky to be with him but have we considered that he’s massively batting above his league?

user4: real …. i hope their babies have her hairline

pierregasly: HUH???

yukitsunoda0511: i make sure to remind him everyday 🫶🏻

user5: obsessed with yuki’s need to humble pierre all the time

yukitsunoda0511: he bagged a queen and has made it everyone else’s problem since

yourusername: can you blame him?

pierregasly: don’t answer that yuki

charles_leclerc: please please please come back right now this whiny french man won’t shut up

yourusername: … it’s my job

charles_leclerc: well i’d also argue that wrangling this oversized puppy with attachment issues is also your job

yourusername: no it’s my passion! there’s a difference

pierregasly: seeeeeee !!!! i am loved :(

yourusername: you are! but please cool it on the texts, i got so many going through the TSA that they thought i had a vibrator in my carry on 😭

pierregasly: WITHOUT ME?

yourusername: babe can we not read?

pierregasly: oh! lol i was ready to fight the world of battery operated sex toys

estebanocon: you need help

pierregasly: LEAVE ME ALONE

user6: smile guys i think we’re in the original

user7: bro is crashing out

user8: tbf i’d give my left ball to have a chance with y/n

pierregasly: i will castrate you for free if you even think about her!

yourusername: so romantic <3

pierregasly

liked by charles_leclerc, yukitsunoda0511 and 524,087 others

tagged: yourusername

pierregasly: engine failures got me missing my girl :(

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user10: my one dream this christmas is to get a man this in love with me

user11: really waiting for my grapes to kick in

user12: any second now i swear...

yourusername: mine took three years to come true so hang on

pierregasly: as if i wasn't manifesting you

yukitsunoda0511: bro retired but still hasn't caused any damage this year damn

pierregasly: told them to give me the projected damages for the season as a bonus so i could treat my girl

yukitsunoda0511: ... and nothing for the guy who is actually at all of the races ???

pierregasly: that is your job?

yukitsunoda0511: and i just comfort you after the races for the love of the game?

pierregasly: yes?

yukitsunoda0511: well it looks like i'll be looking for a new boyfriend this christmas

yourusername: what the hell, sure

user13: y/n just giving up against yukierre

yourusername: sometimes you gotta just sit back and let them get it out

yourusername: and also i do actually get invited to pierre's house in milan (i do also live there)

yukitsunoda0511: THAT IS A SORE SUBJECT Y/N WHY WOULD YOU GO THERE

yourusername: you're calling my boyfriend your boyfriend in public instagram comments?

yukitsunoda0511: PLEASE STAY IN NEW YORK FOREVER

pierregasly: yuki ???

yourusername: that's not very christmas spirit of you yuki

user14: y/n is thousands of miles away but still pulled into the scraps

pierregasly: i'm glad she loves me and puts up with it

yukitsunoda0511: why are you both being so mean to me today :(

yourusername: it's the christmas presents that keep me around (jokes, OBVIOUSLY)

charles_leclerc

liked by yourusername, yukitsunoda0511 and 2,109,778 others

tagged: pierregasly, danielricciardo & landonorris

charles_leclerc: i've stolen his phone so he won't see this but @yourusername he's scarily easy to kidnap

view all comments

user15: so we're on kidnap now... i think the season needs to finish now

user16: no we gotta see how far they are taking it

user17: there's no race in qatar because half of the grid have been arrested lol

francocolapinto: please manifest it i need one of their seats

user18: so real

charles_leclerc: i hate to break it to you franco but you're also on the plane

francocolapinto: don't be dumb charles, i know that, i'm just too pretty to go to jail

charles_leclerc: if anyone is too pretty to go to jail on this AIRPLANE IT IS ME NOW PUT YOUR PHONE DOWN PIERRE IS GETTING SUSPICIOUS

user19: FRANCO IS THERE?

user20: are they all there ???

maxverstappen1: when all is done i don't wanna hear from ANY of them that i don't do anything for them

charles_leclerc: sorry good sir but not all of us have a private jet we can use at the drop of a hat

maxverstappen1: oh i know, i will just hold this over all of you (especially pierre) for as long as i can

charles_leclerc: it's pierre's surprise, why would you hold it against him

maxverstappen1: because i can 👌

yourusername: so on a scale of 1 - 10 how worried should i actually be?

maxverstappen1: very.

charles_leclerc: MAX

charles_leclerc: all is under control y/n do not worry

yourusername: i gotta go warm up for my show tonight i better not finish the show to news reports that my boyfriend is dead

charles_leclerc: he will be alive!

yourusername: and well?

charles_leclerc: i don't want to make that guarantee

yourusername: EXCUSE ME?

charles_leclerc: what? my lawyers told me to never make promises i can't 100% deliver on?

yourusername: well consider me worried

user21: they're defo doing what we think they're doing right

oscarpiastri: if you've got more than two brain cells and the ability to read context cues you will know, it's not the craziest surprise ever

charles_leclerc: we're not in a country rn, maritime laws and all that - THINK

user22: .... riiiiiiiiiiiiight

yukitsunoda0511

liked by charles_leclerc, maxverstappen1 and 489,205 others

tagged: pierregasly & yourusername

yukitsunoda0511: using this love sick fool as an excuse to visit new york

view all comments

user24: they took him to nyc to see y/n !!! that's so cute i can't

user25: are they going to go to y/n's show ???

maxverstappen1: they weren't allowed my jet without the assurance that we were going to that damn show

yourusername: you were very happy to see me as someone who recently publicly told me to stay in nyc forever ...

yukitsuonda0511: obviously i said that so we could come visit you !!!

yukitsunoda0511: it was all a part of the plan

charles_leclerc: ummmm you had no part of the plan

yukitsunoda0511: i clearly seduced pierre into not asking questions

yourusername: you're very close to successfully seducing my foot to your ass

yukitsunoda0511: pierre !!!!!!!!!!!!

pierregasly: i am not helping you here bro

user26: someone get yuki a girlfriend before he gets his ass high kicked out of radio city

yukitsunoda0511: at this point i am just doing it to annoy them

yourusername: whatever you want to tell yourself girlypop

yukitsunoda0511: you're just scared that i'd look better than you in the costumes

yourusername: oh really?

pierregasly: okay girls there's enough pierre to go around

pierregasly: but it is all going to y/n, sorry yuki

yukitsunoda0511: you're scared you'll find things out about yourself

pierregasly: is it time to go home yet y/n ???

user27: fuck george vs max i need y/n vs yuki

user28: instead of crash threats it's just yuki threatening to steal rockette outfits

user29: surely there's someone who can make this happen? @f1 @yourusername

yourusername: noooooooo chance

yukitsunoda0511: cough, cough SCARED

yourusername

liked by charles_leclerc, maxverstappen and 303,277 others

tagged: pierregasly

yourusername: heard my frenchie missed me <3

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user30: my god they're so cute

user31: i love when a man is so shameless about his love

user32: the matching outfits !!!!!!!

charles_leclerc: thanks charles!

charles_leclerc: you're a great friend

charles_leclerc: you're an amazing person who knows us so well and DOESN'T try and seduce one of us

charles_leclerc: how can we ever repay you

charles_leclerc: oh well, no worries guys i love you

yourusername: nurse he's out again

charles_leclerc: i'm giving you ten seconds before i lose my shit

yourusername: i jest !!! thank you for bringing my lover boy to me charles

pierregasly: thank you charlooooo i guess all my complaining was worth it, i'll make sure to keep it up

charles_leclerc: no no no no no no no No No No NO NO NO NO

user33: charles got major friend points for reuniting them (after like a week away from each other lol) and now will be stuck with pierre complaining full time

alexalbon: and this kids, is why we're not nice to each other

user34: the grid being so done with pierre is so funny

charles_leclerc: the change from him being a slut to a lover boy is too much for my head

pierregasly: can we tell radio city to push back your performances to the second week of december so we don't have to be apart

yourusername: babe i don't think i'm important enough to be making those kind of demands

pierregasly: I THINK YOU'RE IMPORTANT ENOUGH

yourusername: thank you baby but being a rockette is my dream so you'll have to deal with a couple weeks without me

pierregasly: so you don't miss me :(

yourusername: you're on my mind all the time, i love you xx

pierregasly: i love you more xx

pierregasly

liked by charles_leclerc, lewishamilton and 673,298 others

tagged: yourusername

pierregasly: only two more races until i can become a full time christmas wag xx

view all comments

user37: the grid are so cute 🥰

user38: the way y/n's dressing room was full of flowers omg she's so loved

user39: the videos of them just being flabbergasted by the show, so personal to me

yourusername: thank you all for coming to see the show !! i promise everyone else were a lot less chill about you guys being there than they let off

pierregasly: no thank YOU for being the star you are 🌟

yourusername: ugh i love you so much

yourusername: are qatar and abu dhabi really that important?

pierregasly: unfortunately they are :( (i am also contractually obligated to be there)

yourusername: boooooooooooooo

alpinef1: but we're paying him to buy you christmas presents

yourusername: ... okay i guess

user40: christmas came early with all this grid content

user41: this is what i wanted from drive to survive not the fabricated drama

yukitsunoda0511: although i still think i'd look better in the costumes... i don't think i'd slay the high kicks like you y/n :(

yourusername: i'll take it !

yukitsunoda0511: but you guys will let me come to the milan house in the new year right?

yourusername: you'll have to ask pierre ...

yukitsunoda0511: PIERRE PLEASE

pierregasly: i guess... only if you stop saying you're prettier than my girlfriend. NO ONE IS PRETTIER THAN HER

yourusername: that's crazy coming from the handsomest man in the world

charles_leclerc: let's not get too crazy here y/n

yourusername: look who isn't getting a christmas present this year now ...

charles_leclerc: i mean last year you gave me a "this candle smells like max verstappen" and a max cardboard cutout

maxverstappen1: sounds like a great gift to me ...

pierregasly: well the presents she gets me are great

charles_leclerc: i don't want to know about those presents

user42: even christmas isn't free from them being horn dogs

yourusername: why do you think i learnt to high kick babe ....

charles_leclerc: shut THE FUCK UP

pierregasly: heheheheeh

fin.

note: oh gosh it's been a busy busy busy week. i haven't written for pierre for like a year lol - enjoy!

[just-some-random-blogger]

Tormented Spirit | 8

Part 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9

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

Daemon Targaryen x Hightower!Reader | 3k+ | cw: fem!reader, reader has brown hair, wife!reader, twin!Gwayne, arranged/forced marriage, canon divergence, alternate universe, slow burn, smut (piv, morning sex, come marking?, cock warming) DOWN BAD!DAEMON, DD:DNE, panic/anxiety attacks, daddy issues/child abuse/family problems, mentions/depictions of mental/physical/psychosomatic illness, ye old misogyny, angst, typos, etc.

A/N: this chapter became 6k+ words so i had to split it T_T. at least that means i'll be updating relatively faster lol. i hope you enjoy since all the fluff is here HAHAHAH and if you do, please leave a comment/reblog to let me know <3 <3 <3. once again, the high valyrian is internet translated, so it might be wrong. | cross posted on ao3

@arabellasleopardcoat @prettybiching

Otto nods as he passes a group of clergy members. He makes his way down the otherwise empty temple, eyes forward as he clutches a firm figurine in his hand. He grunts as he gets down on his knees in front of a fresco of the seven pointed star.

He lights three candles in front of him, saying three different names each time. He places the figurine he brought with him beside them. Of course, it wasn't a figurine but a woolen doll. He says another name, your name, then starts this prayers.

"Father, guard my family through this trying time, my son, my daughters... my daughter," he brushes the face of the doll then closes his eyes. "Stranger, put the souls of the departed Queen Aemma and Prince Baelon to rest.

"Warrior, strengthen my daughter and spare her and her unborn child from succumbing the same fate. Mother, grant her comfort and good health through her journey to motherhood. Crone, guide her and grant her good discernment, so that she may not fear the unknown. Maiden, preserve her beauty, her light."

He opens his eyes and stares at the point that represented the Smith. He grits his teeth before sighing in defeat, "Smith, fortifier... mender... I beg," he sighs, "mend her heart. Mend her body. I beseech you. Let not my prayer fall deaf on your ears any longer."

The candlelight before him glows as he waits another day for the answer to his decade old prayer.

Meanwhile, the candles in your room have long been put out, including the one you normally keep lit by your bed. You are first to rouse today, and yet you could not rise from bed, as you were pressed beneath the body of your husband. Daemon sighed contentedly on your chest, one arm and leg draped over you. You have never slept together (or so you think) so you figured that Daemon probably moved a lot in his sleep, which is how you both ended up in this position.

You stare at the top of his head, continuing to brush through his silver hair. In truth, you did not want to rise. You wanted to stay in this peace, in this stillness. It would not last long, you knew it— you dreaded it.

Goosebumps form on your skin when you feel your husband's hand brush over your belly before hooking on to your hip. You begin to feel your heart race as you remember what your father told you the night before.

How could you tell him? How could you possibly tell Daemon that you were with child, when you knew he was so diligent in assuring you would not be? Was it even possible to carry his seed when he never finished inside you?

Against yourself, you remember the day you caught Gwayne kissing a lady behind a curtain, and how you attacked him because you thought he had gotten her pregnant. The poor girl ran away as you beat your twin, and Gwyane defended himself, saying that's not how you do it. You did not know any better, so you told him you did not believe him and nearly forced him to go to your father to announce you would be marrying the lady. He, in turn had to explain what he knew, to both your horror.

You were no fool to simply believe the words of your stupid twin, so you made it your mission to find out the truth. After sneaking books from the Citadel itself, you read many a book only to find out your twin was telling you the truth.

That was why dread rippled across your skin, for could there ever be a world where Daemon purposefully pulled out and is not angered by this news, where he does not accuse you of infidelity?

You go between worry and peace as you brush your fingers across the prince's skin. You try to convince yourself that all will be well, but each time you do, another part of your mind raises that nothing's ever been well with you. You decide then, even if just for this moment, you will pretend the calmness of your husband will remain.

But the world is cruel, for at this same moment, Daemon awakens.

He stirs with a groan, face rubbing against your sternum. The robe you had on was no longer covering your chest. Your heart races as he looks up at you, his violet eyes still sleepy, "sȳz ñāqes."

You do not understand, but you assume it means good morning, and so you say, "good morning."

Daemon sighs as he pushes himself up, removing his pants. You tense as he comes atop you and kisses your neck. He nudges your head to the side with his own and soon, he pushes your legs apart with his knees.

Your hands come to his hip bones, where you then dig your nails in, making him groan. You whimper when you feel him grind his groin into yours. He is half-hard.

"Sesīr isse ñuha ēdrugon, jaelan ao." Even in my sleep, I want you.

You whimper yet again when he begins to rock against you, digging your nails deeper into him.

"Gīda ilagon," he mutters as he fully parts your robe, repeating in common tongue, "calm down."

You are taken aback by how he pecks your lips once before kissing your neck again.

"Dreamt about fucking your pretty cunny," he mutters lowly between kisses, "wanna make it real."

His words make you ache and throb. In a way, you were comforted by the thought Daemon wanted you, even if it was just your body. You close your eyes and let yourself relax. You sigh against his ear, nuzzling into his shoulder, and brush your hand up his back. As your hands trail to his biceps, his skin breaks out with gooseflesh and a high pitched whimper leaves his lips.

"Fuuuuuuck," he whines out rather pathetically.

There is a languidness to his movements unlike you've ever experienced. His normally brash and pointed demeanor is soft and gentle, his kisses even more so. There is no sense of urgency whatsoever as he rolls his hips against you. If you didn't know any better, you would have believed that he wanted to savor the moment.

He did. He wanted to savor your body, as dreaming of it had him feeling some indistinguishable way. You would never know this though, for he would never tell you.

By the time you've become shaky and your cunt was absolutely sopping wet because of Daemon's now fully hard cock rubbing up against it, he finally pushes into you, drawing out a deep groan from your throat. You tighten your legs and arms around him and your teeth sink into his shoulder.

Daemon grips your thighs as he thrusts into you. He barely pulls out, seemingly determined to go deeper and deeper each time, wanting— needing to be pressed flush into you. His hands sneak beneath you, fingers raking up your shoulder blades to your nape before tangling into your brown hair. He breathes heavily against your ear as your bodies grow hotter and hotter.

You both remain in this snug position, doing this constricted dance until your bellies begin to burn. He doesn't speed up at all or pull out any more than he already has. You feel your body begin to tense and your climax begin to build, and then, just then, a spirit overcomes Daemon.

The next moment, he has his hand on your jaw, forcing your head back. Just as you reach your peak, he pulls out and thrusts his wet cock on your slick folds, once, twice, until his hard member is soft and twitching. His load shoots out up to your chest and sputters down on your belly, garnering a surprised gasp from you. It's hot and viscous against your skin and you wonder what it would have felt like had he released in you. There's so much of it too.

"Fuck, fuck, fu-" Daemon repeats, thinking the exact same thing you were.

You expect him to roll over, because there is no way he wouldn't after soiling you, but you gasp yet again as he comes crashing down on you, skin sticking with a squelch.

He is arrested by your warmth and wants nothing but to plunge into you again. So, in his greed, he grabs his still twitching cock and pushes it into you, releasing a long and throaty groan as he does so. It makes you tremble and whimper his name. You were not expecting the intrusion, so you brush your cheek against his, hoping he understands to give you a moment of repose before going again.

After a while, though you still felt tender from your orgasm, you brush your cheek against him once more, signaling you were ready for him again.

He does the strangest thing however, and simply brushes his cheek back. He pulls his head back, looking down at you, "litse riña." Pretty girl.

You notice the softness of his violet eyes and knit your brows at it. He is so overwhelming you cannot help but kiss him. There was still remnants of morning breath in your mouths, but neither of you cared.

Daemon is loathe to have you pull away. He leans into your touch as you brush his unruly hair back. You slowly shake your head, "I do not understand, my prince."

"iksā sīr rāpa se bāne," you are so soft and warm. He brushes your noses together, "ñuha ābrazȳrys," my wife.

A line forms between your brows at the foreign tongue. You wait for him to translate as he brings his hand to your cheek. He stares at you for a long moment, thumb brushing your skin.

He makes no attempt to decode the High Valyrian for you, and soon, a knock comes upon your door.

Daemon is instantly irritated as he glares over his shoulder, muttering, "who the fuck is that?"

"My servants. I-"

Before you could even finish, your two servant girls are waking in, and Daemon watches them as they head for your bathroom, horribly and painfully unaware of him. He waits for them to reemerge, and the moment they do, he is instantly screaming, "FUCK OFF, CUNTS! THE DOOR'S CLOSED FOR A REASON."

You hear their gasps, squeals, and apologies before scurrying off, slamming the door behind them as they did.

Instantly, yet again, Daemon relaxes and nuzzles against your neck.

"D-Daemon," you whisper, sinking your fingers into his long hair, "they normally wake me up at-"

"I don't give a fuck," he quips, tightening his hold on you, "they'll know better now."

You clench your jaw and sigh, making mental note to apologize to your girls for the prince's actions.

You begin to doze off, as does Daemon in all his gluttonous glory. The two of you stay in bed until lunch time, which is far longer than you've ever personally stayed.

Arryk, who had been stationed outside your door for a while now, is concerned by this. He raps at the entrance to your room and calls your name. When he receives no response, he peaks inside and inspects the stillness of it all. Unnerved by the idea you were sleeping in, he thinks the worse and walks in, calling your name again. His breath is forced down his throat when he sees the flash of white hair on the bed. He sees a hand rub down a toned back and he immediately reels back, quiet and as quick as he possibly can.

You wake the second time because of the growling of your stomach. It is loud and painful, so much so, it wakes your husband.

He groans, brushing his nose against you, "hungry?"

You huff, craning your neck to look at him, finding his closed eyes, "clearly, I'm starving."

A rich chuckle rumbles from his chest. He opens his eyes and they twinkle with mischief, "I could feed you something meaty."

Your face contorts, "I do not think you'd want me to bite your cock, my prince."

Daemon laughs, hard enough to fully awaken him. He wheezes, and rolls of your chest, "I did-" sigh, "not say it was-" wheeze, "my cock."

You hum, "oh, of course not. Apologies."

Your sarcasm only maddens him further into amusement.

You take this as a chance to wriggle away from him, and so you do. The semen still on your skin is tepid and pasty as it smears against your chests. Your robe is completely lose as you come to a stand. You decide not to dirty your garment with Daemon's seed by covering yourself, so you head for the bathroom with your robe open.

You gasp at the swiftness of how your are grabbed and pulled back. Your body collides into Daemon's chest. Your care for your satin robe if for naught, because it sticks on his come anyway. Daemon's is hypnotized by your scent. He is quick to brush your hair over shoulder and mumble against your nape, "you wound me with your eagerness to flee me, wife."

His hands come to squeeze your breasts and you whimper as you turn to him. You knit your brows and pout, "that is not true."

"No?" he says a little louder than he ought as his emotions slightly get ahead of him, "are you not running from me this moment?"

You frown and fully face him, having to peel your robe off his chest as you do, "I'm simply going to bathe." You stare at his chest, "you've made a mess of me."

Daemon tilts his head, "not nearly enough, in my opinion."

You find the self-satisfied grin on his face, "you should too bathe with me."

"Mmm, well then," he takes your hand, "bathe we shall."

The water that your servants had brought was now cold, but you both made do with what you had. Daemon is simultaneously unsurprised and taken aback by how you tend to him first, he does not know why. You've bathed him once before, and yet it somehow feels different. You scrub his chest with cloth and inspire him to do the same for you. You lean into his touch as he washes you off, and it makes his stomach roll.

He takes a good look at you, your skin, the marks he left on it, your nose, your knees, your hair, everything, and he cannot believe something so... so immaculate, so resplendent could be borne from a man so detestable.

"You are not your father's daughter," he says so casually.

You look up at him, freezing because of his random sentiment.

"You are the gods promise to me. A woman made to sate my fire."

Your brows knit at his words. You tilt your head and it makes him nearly goes mad. How darling you ask, "I sate your fire?"

He hums and pulls you into him, kissing your arm as he did, "stoke, perhaps, is truer."

Your breath hitches when he brings you to his lap. He sighs as he feels your flesh against his, it wont be long until he's hard all over again. He licks a stripe up your left breast, "I am, in fact, insatiable."

Your heart races and he peppers kisses up your neck. You lean your forehead against his after kissing your lips. You whisper in earnest, "I will try."

Daemon pulls back, hands coming to your neck as he looks at you.

"I will try to sate you."

Fuck. The thought should have made him laugh, but it doesn't. It makes him burn. He cannot say anything, for his mouth seeks yours. He kisses your lips and you two sequentially spend another hour or so turning the water warm as it splashes all over the floor.

You're antsy and eager to feast by the end of it all.

You help each other get dressed, and Daemon finds the way you hastily button his doublet ever-so-endearing. When it's his turn to help, he shushes you and rubs your shoulders before securing your corset from behind, "your food will not fly off the window."

You rub your aching stomach, "I pray it flies into my mouth soon."

He snickers as he finishes tying your laces.

You quickly run towards the vanity and hastily begin to brush your still damp hair.

He watches you bounce your leg and the faintest of smiles graces his lips. He watches your chest begin to rise and fall rather quickly, and soon his brows furrow. He walks up behind you, "aeritta run." Restless thing.

He takes your hand and your jaw, but it is unlike most times he does so. His touch is gentle. He does not force you to hand your brush or look forward, but you do. You look at each other from the mirror; your chest continues to heave.

"Paez ilagon," Daemon enunciates, "say it for me, won't you?"

Your brows furrow in slight confusion. You release a breath, "pez ilegon."

"Paez," he corrects.

"Paez."

"Good," he nods, "ilagon."

"Il... Ilagon."

"Rōvēgrior," Daemon leans in and mumbles against your temple, "excellent. Now..." he kisses your temple, "once more: paez ilagon."

You take a breath, doing your best to mimic his accent, "pa...ez i- ... lagon."

"Arlī," again, he motions with his pointer, "speak confidently."

"Daemon."

"You can do it," he tilts his head at your reflection, "paez ilagon."

You sigh and nod your head, "paez ilagon."

His violet eyes twinkle, "rōvēgrior," excellent, he claps his hands, "spoken like a true Valyrian."

You turn to him, breath hitching at the sight of his smile, "wha-"

Daemon takes your face and makes you turn forward.

You look at his reflection and grip your skirt, fearing you'd upset him. But then he begins to style your hair and butterflies overcome your belly. You try to ignore the thump of your heart by clearing your throat, "what d-does it mean?"

"Paez ilagon is slow down."

"Ahhh," your jaw drops in slight embarrassment, "I see."

Daemon points, "hand me your pin."

You get the hair pin on the vanity and hand it over, "and the other one?"

"Hmm?"

"Ro... roz- rovevegregor."

Daemon tilts his head as he chuckles through his nostrils, a soft smile remaining on his face as he finishes securing your hair in a similar manner he does himself.

You witness all of this and your heart skips a beat.

"Rōvēgrior," he repeats, "try to roll your tongue."

"..."

"Go on."

"RRRRozeofoieve-"

He laughs and takes a hair tie from the table. He quickly does his own hair then takes you by the hand. He ushers you to the door as he continues to chuckle, "we should get you something to eat. You sound ill."

You are hypnotized by his melodic laugh. You don't dare interrupt it, so you whisper under your breath, mostly to yourself, "but what does it mean?"

"Excellent," he says, hearing your whisper. He opens the door for you, "it means excellent, gevie."

You do not notice Arryk as you exit your chambers, "but what about that?"

Daemon does not notice him either, "what?"

"Ge- gevie?"

"Gevie?" he repeats.

You nod.

Arryk bows and greets you, "princess."

You turn to him as he bows again, "my prince."

Daemon does not spare him a glance. Beautiful, it meant, but he instead tells you, "it is a secret."

You do not respond to Daemon, but he does not mind. He is fully content to stare at you. You smile at your ward, taking a second to guess who it is, "good morn, ser. Are you... Erryk?"

Arryk examines you, finally breathing a sigh of relief to know you are unharmed. He is also glad to see you are not dressed in attire that... exposes the good works of your husband. In the same second, he notices your said husband, and how keenly is gaze is set upon your beaming form. He clenches his jaw, "nay, your grace. Neither am I my brother, nor is it morning."

"Oh," you purse your lips, "my apologies, dear Arryk."

Daemon quickly pulled out of his haze, raising a brow at dear Arryk, "you may go."

Arryk turns to him.

"I will keep my wife company today," he says, wasting no more time in idle chatter, taking you by the hand.

You both walk off and you offer Arryk a smile and nod in regard.

Arryk clenches his jaw but forces himself to smile back at you. He is uneasy by the prospect, knowing how fickle and volatile Daemon can become regarding you. He stares at your joined hands as you walk away, deciding to trust the prince for your sake.

[fr0stf4ll]

A court of Shadows and Moonlight - Part 1

paring; Azriel x reader

summary; In the wake of looming war and changing traditions, a gifted healer returns to the Night Court after centuries of wandering the continents. Tasked with stepping into Madja’s legendary role, she must guide reluctant healers, soothe wounded warriors, and face the entrenched prejudice of Illyrian leaders. But as she mends torn wings and broken spirits, an unexpected bond awakens between her and the Night Court’s enigmatic Spymaster. With rivalries simmering and a dangerous threat looming on the horizon, she must reconcile duty and desire, learning that true healing can extend beyond flesh and bone—if she dares to embrace the light hidden among the shadows.

word count ; 4k

notes; Yo everyone, I'm back with another fanfiction featuring our lovely Shadow Singer. Hope you all like it <3 Just a small reminder: English isn’t my first language, so I’ve tried my best. Enjoy the first chapter!

Part 2

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The dusk sky draped the House of Wind in soft shades of lavender and rose, its tall windows open to the gentle, jasmine-scented breeze of Velaris below. Rhysand’s office, spacious but not ostentatious, offered a panoramic view of the starlit city, where lanterns were beginning to glow and laughter drifted upward like a distant, cheerful hum. The high shelves, carved of dark wood, were lined with neat rows of books and rolled charts, their parchment edges softened by centuries of use. A low-burning lamp cast warm light over a desk scattered with papers, quills, and a half-filled inkpot.

Madja stood near the window with Rhys, both of them watching as wings and shadows moved quietly through the city’s streets below. The old healer’s posture was poised despite her age; her long, silver-streaked hair was bound in a simple braid. Time had etched fine lines around her eyes and mouth—soft marks of the centuries she’d spent mending flesh and bone, soothing pain, and whispering encouragement into the darkest hours of countless lives.

Rhysand kept his gaze on the vista beyond the glass, arms folded casually, the glow of faelight catching in his violet eyes. He knew Madja had come here for something particular. She wasn’t one to linger unnecessarily, nor did she shy from speaking her mind. The hush in the room was comfortable, respectful of the weight of the moment.

Madja cleared her throat softly, her voice as calm and steady as it had been through all the emergencies and late-night visits to the healing rooms. “Rhysand,” she began, her tone gentle yet determined, “I need to speak with you about a matter of some importance to me.”

Rhys turned his head slightly, giving her his full attention. “Of course,” he said, voice low and reassuring. “What’s on your mind?”

She inhaled and exhaled slowly, as though considering each word carefully. “I’ve served this court for a very long time. Longer than many remember—tending to soldiers, midwives, children, courtiers, High Lords and Ladies alike.” Her gaze drifted toward the city lights, as if recalling memories that danced among those glowing streets. “It’s been my honor and my purpose.”

Rhysand inclined his head, respect and gratitude shining in his eyes. “We owe you more than can ever be repaid, Madja. Your skill, your kindness... You’ve saved so many of us in ways we cannot count.”

She offered a small, affectionate smile. “I know my role has mattered. But Rhys,” she paused, and the name alone carried a lifetime of familiarity that few could claim with him, “I find that my hands are not as steady as they once were. My eyes grow weary by candlelight. My back aches after hours bent over the injured.”

A slight breeze stirred the curtains, and the scent of night-blooming flowers drifted in, a gentle reminder of how time moved ever forward. Rhysand said nothing yet, allowing her the space to say what she must.

Madja continued softly, “I believe it’s time for me to step back. To retire from my duties as the court’s primary healer.” She turned to face him fully, shoulders squared, but her gaze kind and open. “I’ve trained many capable healers over the years. The work will continue. The Night Court does not lack for talent or compassion.”

Rhysand exhaled quietly, pressing his lips into a thoughtful line. The notion of Madja not being there—her swift and sure presence absent from their healing wards—seemed strange. She had always been a constant, a quiet pillar in the court’s foundation. But he would not deny her what she deserved.

“Are you certain?” he asked gently, voice low enough that it felt like they were confiding secrets rather than discussing court affairs. “If you wish fewer hours, or only to train the younger healers, we can arrange that.”

Madja shook her head, a decisive yet kind gesture. “No, Rhys. I’ve thought this through. I’m old, my friend. Old, even by our standards.” A hint of dry humor touched her tone. “My future lies in rest, in tending a garden rather than wounded flesh. I wish to spend whatever years remain in quiet peace, perhaps in a small cottage overlooking a meadow or stream.”

In the quiet that followed, Rhysand reached out to gently clasp her hand, the gesture sincere. “We’ll ensure you have all you need. A place of comfort, security—whatever you desire. And know that you will always be welcome in these halls, never forgotten.”

Madja squeezed his hand, gratitude and affection shining in her eyes. “I expected nothing less. You have all grown into fine leaders, fine friends. It eases my heart to know I leave the court in good hands.”

Rhysand released Madja’s hand gently, taking in her decision with thoughtful acceptance. The room felt quieter, a hush that allowed them both to measure the weight of this change. He crossed his arms and leaned slightly against the desk, considering how best to carry out her retirement. There would need to be someone to fill her role—someone skilled, empathetic, and unshakably capable of handling whatever the Night Court might face.

“Have you thought about who might take your place?” Rhys asked softly, meeting her steady gaze. “I can’t imagine you leaving us without a successor in mind.”

A hint of pride lit Madja’s eyes, a spark of confidence in the future she was preparing to leave behind. “Of course I have. You know me better than that, Rhys. I would never abandon my post without ensuring someone could step into it seamlessly.”

Rhys inclined his head, a faint smile tugging at his lips, as if he had expected nothing less. “And who have you chosen?”

Madja’s grip on the windowsill tightened slightly, not in apprehension, but in anticipation of sharing something long-cherished. “I have someone perfect in mind. A child of the Night Court—an orphan of the first war against Hybern, in fact. I took her under my wing when she was very young, taught her the basics of healing and care.”

Rhysand’s brows rose, curiosity piqued. He could not recall all the children Madja had trained personally, centuries and centuries blending faces and names into a kind tapestry of service. “Who might this be?”

“Y/N,” Madja said, voice warm with fondness. “You may remember her. She was quiet but determined, always studying late into the night, always asking how to ease pain more efficiently or mend a broken bone with fewer scars. A true healer’s heart.” She paused, letting the memory breathe life into the silence. “A few centuries ago, she left the Night Court to travel among the other courts and even beyond Prythian’s borders—visiting unknown continents, I believe. All to deepen her knowledge and hone her healing skills.”

Rhysand searched his memories, vague images surfacing: a young, focused individual hovering near Madja’s side, attentive as a student could be. He had been too busy with rebuilding and healing wounds on a much larger scale then, but he remembered the name faintly, the glimpses of a dedicated figure slipping through the halls.

Madja continued, “I reached out to her a few months ago, requested her return. I told her of my plans, that I would soon step down and that I wanted her to take my place. She agreed. She should be arriving any day now, if my calculations are correct.”

Rhysand nodded thoughtfully, pressing his fingertips together. “So Y/N will take on your mantle,” he said quietly, more to himself than Madja. “If you trust her, then I will welcome her home with open arms. I know the court will benefit from such devotion and training.”

Madja’s smile deepened, an affectionate and proud curve of her lips. “She will do well, Rhys. She’s grown into a capable healer—perhaps even more skilled than I. She brings with her new techniques and knowledge from lands we can barely imagine. It is only fitting that someone so dedicated should stand where I once stood.”

Outside, the city’s laughter and murmurs drifted into the room. Rhysand and Madja stood in quiet agreement. As one chapter closed gently, another prepared to open. The Night Court, always at the crossroads of past and future, would soon meet the one who would continue its legacy of healing and mercy.

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The winter air carried a quiet hush as you approached the gates of Velaris. The land slumbered under a light blanket of snow, crystals glittering like tiny fallen stars beneath the moonlight. It had been centuries since you’d last seen this city, and now each lantern-lit arch, each faint silhouette of distant rooftops, stirred memories long tucked away. The cold breeze nipped at your cheeks, but you were well-prepared: a heavy, fur-lined cape draped over your shoulders, its generous folds keeping out the chill. Beneath it, your traveling garb—leather boots crusted with frost, worn gloves, and trousers meant for long rides—hinted at the countless roads you had trodden in your self-imposed exile.

Your horse’s breath plumed in the crisp air, its dark coat standing out starkly against the snowy ground. Every hoof-fall was muffled by that thin layer of powder, giving the night an even gentler hush. Above you, the eagle circled again, a lone sentinel under a sky brushed with starlight and the faint glow of a crescent moon. It cried softly, its voice echoing in the stillness, as if announcing your return.

Velaris—once the place of your youth, where you learned the first steps of healing under Madja’s patient eye—felt both familiar and strange. You had wandered distant courts, continents with different climates and creatures, honing your craft and expanding your knowledge. Yet here, now, the curve of a familiar street corner, the warm glow of lamplight on old stone, tugged at your heart. It was nostalgia mingled with quiet apprehension, the weight of centuries settling gently on your shoulders. Back then, you had left as a young apprentice, uncertain and hungry for wisdom. Tonight, you returned as a seasoned healer, with secrets and skills gleaned from every corner of Prythian and beyond.

At the gate, a couple of sentries wrapped in thick cloaks watched your approach. The lanterns beside them radiated a comforting warmth against the frosty night. They noted your horse’s slow pace, your cape embroidered subtly with practical patterns, the saddlebags heavy with bandages, tonics, and texts. They glanced upward at the eagle, curious, but found no threat in this silent dance of traveler and guardian.

One guard stepped forward, voice muted yet carried easily through the still air. “Late traveler,” he said, respectful but cautious, “state your name and purpose.”

You drew the reins gently, bringing the horse to a stop, your dark mount stamping once on the snowy ground. A faint smile touched your lips as you pushed back your hood, exposing features sharpened by experience, softened by understanding. Even now, the cold flushed your cheeks slightly, and a strand of white hair slipped free, catching the moonlight.

“I am Y/N,” you said, your voice steady and warm, echoing with an old familiarity. “A healer returning to the Night Court. I believe I am expected.”

The guards exchanged a glance—this name carried weight, a quiet rumor of a healer summoned home by Madja herself. They stepped aside, allowing you entry, no further questions needed. Beyond them lay Velaris, blanketed softly in winter’s hush. You remembered it bustling with life in greener times, but even now, beneath the snow and distant laughter, you felt the city’s heart welcoming you home.

With a gentle press of your heel, you urged your horse onward. The eagle’s shadow passed over the gate, and then it soared above the rooftops, perhaps to find its own perch. A familiar scent drifted through the crisp night air—something like cinnamon and distant hearth fires. You took it in, remembering quiet evenings of study and healing in warm, lamplit rooms.

You had left as a student, eager and uncertain. You returned a master of your craft, ready to shoulder the responsibilities your old mentor had chosen for you. The quiet crunch of hooves in snow was the only sound as you entered Velaris, a place you had not seen in a hundred lifetimes, yet still knew in your bones.

As soon as you passed through the gates, you swung your leg over the horse’s side and dismounted with a practiced ease. The animal, sensing your familiarity, snorted softly, its breath making small clouds in the winter air. The snow crunched beneath your boots as you took the saddle in hand, leading your horse forward at a leisurely pace. A few onlookers spared curious glances—travelers weren’t uncommon in Velaris, but your arrival at this late hour and in these quiet conditions drew subdued interest.

You let your gaze drift, taking in the sights around you. Velaris had always been a jewel among cities, but under the moon and dusting of snow, it gleamed with a serene kind of splendor. Buildings of carved stone and elegant wood bore soft, golden lights that spilled onto cobblestone streets. The scent of fresh bread and distant hearth fires mingled with the crispness of winter. You noted subtle changes—new sculptures in gardens, fresh murals adorning certain walls, the hum of gentle magic woven into everyday corners. It had grown even lovelier with time.

You had heard the tales, even far away on foreign shores: the once-hidden city revealed to the world, the ferocious attack it had endured, and the grand victory that followed. Rumors traveled quickly among healers and traders, and from what you gathered, Velaris had suffered but risen stronger, its spirit unbroken. The idea that your old home, once so secretive, had been thrust onto the world stage still left an odd taste in your mouth. You’d never imagined such an outcome all those centuries ago.

And Rhysand—when you’d left, he’d only just ascended as High Lord after his father’s passing. You remembered him as calm, shrewd, haunted by new responsibilities thrust upon him too young. Now, you’d learned that he had reigned through wars and alliances, reshaping the Night Court into something more open, more formidable. Most astonishing of all was the whisper that a High Lady stood beside him, equal in power and rank. Such a thing had been unthinkable in the old days, when tradition and suspicion ruled the courts.

You ran a hand along the horse’s neck, both reassuring it and steadying yourself. Time had flowed like a great river, carving new courses in this land you once knew. The Night Court wasn’t just shadows and silence anymore—if anything, it hummed with a brighter, more inclusive magic.

A small smile tugged at your lips, though touched by nostalgia. You wondered if you would still recognize old acquaintances, if any remained. Madja, of course, you would know. She was the reason you had returned. But what about the healers who trained alongside you, or the courtiers who once sought your help for quiet fevers and twisted ankles?

Your breath fogged in the cold as you carried your saddle and led the horse onward into the velvety night of Velaris. In that soft hush, surrounded by lamplight and murmuring streets, you acknowledged what had been and what now was. A thousand changes had come to pass while you walked distant roads, yet here you were again—a piece of the past stepping into the present, ready to adapt and serve once more.

With a gentle tug on the reins, you guided your horse through Velaris’ winding streets until you reached a small inn known for accommodating travelers with mounts. The sign outside bore simple script and a painted image of a horse’s head, letting you know this was a place that catered to riders who needed both rest and a safe spot for their companions. A narrow stable area hugged one side of the building, the wooden stalls visible through an open arch, and the soft whicker of other horses drifted out into the cold night.

You tied your horse securely at a hitching post near the stable entrance, giving it a few soft strokes along its neck and murmuring quiet words of reassurance. The inn’s lights glowed warmly through its windows, promising respite from the chill outside. Carrying only what you needed for the night—your saddle and a small bag slung over your shoulder—you stepped up onto the worn threshold.

Inside, the inn’s atmosphere enveloped you like a comforting blanket. The interior was modest yet inviting, with low ceilings supported by dark wooden beams that lent the space a cozy, intimate feel. A large hearth crackled at one end, its firelight dancing across the polished floorboards and simple, sturdy tables. The scent of mulled wine and hearty stew drifted through the air, mingling with the faint tang of old wood and woolen fabrics. A few patrons sat scattered around, some nursing tankards, others finishing quiet meals, their murmured conversations melding into a pleasant hum.

Lamps hung at intervals along the walls, their warm glow illuminating the simple artwork—landscapes of rolling hills and starry skies, scenes that might be familiar to travelers who came and went. A rack near the door held thick cloaks and traveling staffs, and straw mats by the hearth encouraged weary wanderers to warm their feet by the flames.

Approaching the small counter near the fire, you found a stout figure in an apron waiting, brows lifting slightly at your approach. The innkeeper—a middle-aged fae with kind eyes and a no-nonsense posture—took in your travel-worn attire and the faint smell of stable hay clinging to your clothes without judgment.

“I need a room for the night,” you said, voice low but clear. You placed a few coins on the counter, enough to cover lodging and a decent meal. “And a safe place for my horse,” you added, gesturing out the door with a tilt of your head.

The innkeeper nodded, pocketing the coins and scribbling a note in a ledger. “You’ve chosen the right place, traveler. We’ve a stable hand on duty tonight, and plenty of hay and water for your mount. I’ll have your belongings sent up to your room—top of the stairs, second door on the right. Will you be needing dinner?”

The gentle crackle of the hearth made you realize how hungry you were. “Yes, please. Something hot.” The tension of your long journey began to ease as you spoke. Soon, you would have a warm meal and a quiet room, a moment to gather your thoughts before facing the days to come in Velaris.

The innkeeper nodded again. “We’ll have stew and bread ready for you in a moment. Make yourself comfortable.”

You thanked them quietly and made your way toward a table near the fire. Settling down, you let the warmth seep into your bones. Outside, the snow continued to fall lightly, dusting the night-silenced streets. Inside, the inn’s modest comfort wrapped around you, a gentle reminder that, for all the changes beyond these walls, solace could still be found in simple things: a crackling fire, a hot meal, and a secure place to rest.

You thanked the inn’s attendant who brought your things upstairs—your saddle and bag neatly placed in one corner, your personal items laid out on a small bench. As soon as the door closed, you set about making yourself comfortable. The tiny room was modest but cozy: a single bed with a thick quilt, a wooden chest for your belongings, and a narrow door that led to a private washroom. The lamp on the bedside table glowed softly, illuminating rough-hewn beams overhead and the simple woven rug underfoot.

The bath you drew was warm and fragrant, a rare luxury after so many months on the road. You sighed as the hot water embraced your tired muscles, steam rising to blur the edges of the lamplight. Every ache and tension slipped away, replaced by a gentle calm. You lingered there longer than you intended, letting the warmth and quiet stillness soothe the raw edges of your journey.

Eventually, you stepped out, drying off with a towel that smelled faintly of lavender. Pulling on more comfortable clothes—soft trousers, a loose tunic, and thick socks—you immediately felt lighter, more at ease. Settling into the single chair at the small desk, you opened your sketchbook. The pages bore neat sketches of rare herbs, diagrams of organs and nerve clusters, annotations in your own careful handwriting describing remedies learned in distant courts. You added a few more notes now, clarifying a technique you’d picked up in the Winter Court for combating frostbite injuries—how their healers used crushed frost lily petals to reduce swelling.

You’d barely finished jotting down a final sentence when a gentle knock sounded at the door. Crossing the tiny space in a few strides, you opened it to find the innkeeper’s assistant holding a tray. The rich aroma of stew—savory and warm—wafted into your room. You offered a quiet thanks, voice hushed as if not to disturb the hush of the night. The assistant nodded politely and retreated, footsteps receding down the hallway.

Placing the tray on a small round table by the window, you pulled up the chair. The stew steamed before you—thick and hearty, with chunks of root vegetables, tender meat, and herbs that reminded you of home. Next to it was a small loaf of crusty bread and a pat of butter, already soft enough to spread easily.

As you dipped your spoon and brought the first mouthful to your lips, the flavors bloomed across your tongue—rich, comforting, and exactly what you needed. Your gaze drifted past the rim of the bowl to the window. Beyond the glass, the Sidra River shimmered softly under starlight. Snowflakes drifted lazily through the night, catching in the glow of distant lanterns. Across the water, the Rainbow—Velaris’s famed artistic district—was lit with gentle hues, colors blending seamlessly into the darkness.

The scene was a masterpiece of tranquility: the star-flecked sky, the quiet city, the snow falling softly as if trying not to wake the world. You savored another spoonful of stew and leaned back, allowing the moment to settle around you. Here you were, in a city you’d left centuries ago, come home to take up a mantle left by your old mentor. So much had changed and yet this moment—warm meal, quiet window, gentle snow—reminded you why you returned. Comfort, safety, purpose, and memory woven together in a tapestry of starlit peace.

You finished the last of your meal, wiped the bowl clean with a piece of bread, and gently pushed the tray aside. The steady warmth of the stew had settled in your stomach, making your limbs feel pleasantly heavy. Outside, the snow continued its quiet descent, dusting the rooftops and the narrow streets with sparkling powder. The lamplight in your room seemed softer now, the hush of the winter night wrapping around you like a familiar old cloak.

Rising from the small chair, you crossed the room and extinguished the lamp on the bedside table. Only moonlight and the reflection from the snow-blanketed city remained, sending faint silver shapes dancing along the floorboards. You slipped beneath the quilt, the scent of wool and lavender drifting from the linens. The mattress gave slightly under your weight, a gentle cradle after so many hard beds and forest floors.

Your thoughts drifted naturally to the meeting you’d have the next day. Madja’s voice echoed faintly in your memory—her gentle, steady guidance so many years ago. Tomorrow, you would see her again, no longer as a wide-eyed apprentice, but as a seasoned healer returning to take up her mantle. The idea hummed softly through your mind, a mixture of anticipation and a quiet, nervous pride.

The distant murmur of Velaris lulled you: the soft creak of settling beams, the whisper of the Sidra’s current, the faint call of a night bird. Within moments, the fatigue of long travel and the comfort of a true bed smoothed away the edges of wakefulness. Your eyelids grew heavy and closed, shutting out the gentle glow of stars and snow.

Wrapped in warmth and memory, you drifted into sleep, secure in the knowledge that tomorrow would begin a new chapter—one you were finally ready to embrace.

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