#that was a very long winded answer I apologize

[mollymauk-teafleak]

like silence but not really silent

Another Magnus Archives fic from my little mundane AU! This one turned deeply, deeply self indulgent because of Bad Things Happening in my personal life so I make no apologies! Only thanks to @minky-for-short for all the encouragement with this AU in general!

Please reblog and comment over on Ao3 if you enjoyed this! (It is formatted a little nicer over there into the three separate chapters)

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Three moments from Jonathan Sims' life, spent on the same beach in his hometown of Bournemouth.

Three moments of quiet.

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One

The world was too loud for Jonathan Sims. 

That was what his daadi would tell him, in a soft voice that didn’t do much to hide the disappointment like a cloth worn too thin to conceal what lay underneath. After the police would leave, their halfhearted concerns about Jon’s welfare muffled under cups of tea and homemade cardamom biscuits, after the headteacher would let them leave her office, everyone well aware how little had been achieved in that latest meeting, she would take his face in her hands, look him in the eyes and say it to him as she stroked a thumb across his cheek. 

It wouldn’t be an accusation, not really, or an attempt at comfort. It would just be a statement of a fact that made life harder, a geography textbook’s explanation for floods or earthquakes or volcanic eruptions, something he just had to accept, just like the fact that everyone saw him as a girl no matter how many times he tried to correct them or tell them the name he’d decided for himself. The world is too loud for you, beti.  

But daadi never told Jon what he could do to fix it. He was left to figure that out for himself. 

The closest he’d found to a real answer was down on the beach. 

Not that Jon had ever left Bournemouth to confirm this but, if he did, he imagined people sighing romantically at the idea of living there. They’d imagine it like residing in a postcard, the sea a perfect watercolour blue, the sand a butter yellow, the sunshine washing over everything all the time. The reality was very different. Postcards didn’t show the dense crowds that gathered on any day with a little sunshine, the rain that fell the rest of the year, the litter all those people left behind to blow across the grey sand like decorations left behind after a party. Or how the amusements always looked more than a little sad when the streets were empty, their garish paint peeling and their tinny songs becoming a headache. 

So when Jon told his daadi he was going down to the beach- if he bothered telling her at all- he didn’t mean the same beach everyone pictured when they thought of Bournemouth. He avoided that place like the plague. The world was too loud for him so he needed somewhere that felt like it wasn’t part of the world at all, somewhere everyone else had forgotten so completely that it felt disconnected from everything else. He meant his beach. 

It was hard to get to, especially for a pair of ten year old legs, involving a long walk along the striped cliffs of clay and sand, a perilous half climb, half slide down a particular face to find a little closed off bay tucked safely behind the curve of the land. Away from the wind and the rain and, more importantly, the rest of the world. It was a pebble beach rather than sand, the seaweed washed up thicker, the gulls were always screeching overhead but Jon didn’t mind. He would pack a book or two in his rucksack, whatever snacks he could find around the house, an extra jumper, a raincoat, everything he needed to maximise the amount of time before he had to come sloping back to civilization. He would tuck himself into the little natural caves and read, he would skim stones in the water, he would take off his socks and shoes and walk through the little shore, finding crabs and starfish and sea snails.

There he could be Jonathan for real, not just in his head. 

Whenever he went there, he could feel the weight on his chest lift with every step he took away from the town proper, finally able to take a deep, full breath once he’d staggered down onto the little scrap of a beach. 

Today, it felt like it had come just in time, a few seconds before he would have suffocated. 

Jon scrubbed at the burn in his eyes that definitely wasn’t tears, silently begged his chest to stop heaving, his shoulders to stop shuddering. Now it was quiet, now he could actually think, his body finally listened. He took the rising, overwhelming emotion he’d carried all the way here, packed it into a box and shut the lid tightly, sent it away to somewhere far from here. Jon gulped down those things that weren’t tears, feeling such a sense of relief as the sea resolved in front of his eyes and became clear. He counted the whitecaps he could see, digging his fingers into the pebbles under his knees to feel their reassuring rattle and clack. 

He was here. He was in his one quiet place, the one place he belonged, the one place that knew he was Jon and accepted it without question. 

Once the steady roll and crash of the waves on the shore had cleared away the panic, Jon shifted to sit cross legged on the stones. He felt wrung out, hollowed, the way his favourite jumper had gone all thin and unravelled after he’d tried to put it in the washing machine. He couldn’t even find the anger anymore, there was just nothing. 

Just the aching, echoing gap left behind when he just didn’t understand. 

Jon’s stomach had already been a writhing mess of snakes as he’d walked out of school. They’d ended the day by working on making family trees, all the other students settling in excitedly for an hour spent with the colouring pencils. They moved around Jon, ignoring him as per usual, laughing and chattering away about whatever it was kids his age were supposed to talk about when they had someone to listen. 

He’d been left to sit and stare at the name that everyone kept telling him was his, scrawled at the bottom of the template, his eyes following its dark lines up to the many branches with their own spaces for other names to go. Names he didn’t know. Names he’d never get to know. A whole family tree that had withered and died before he’d even gotten a chance to learn what the word even meant. Just him and his daadi, who already had a bad chest and doctors visits written onto the calendar in the kitchen that she didn’t want to talk about. When she went away, like his papa and his mama, his name would be completely and totally alone. 

That’s when his eyes had started to blur and burn. 

Miss Andi had done her circuit of the classroom, the only person to notice Jon sitting there, frozen under the weight of the grief he didn’t know how to hold. She’d been kind, of course, speaking in her soft voice, you don’t have to do it if you don’t want to, dear, you can go read in the corner if you like . 

But her voice hadn’t been quite soft enough, the other children had still heard her, that damning sympathy carrying over the waves of chatter somehow. And then he’d felt the prickle of eyes on his back, wide stares like Jonathan Sims was just something behind a thick pane of museum glass and a little white card explaining just how sad and lonely he was. Though the card would probably call him the wrong name too.  

He’d fled to the reading corner, even if none of the books there interested him anymore. He’d just needed to hide his face. 

Maybe it was that tight, storm in the stomach feeling that had made him do something so stupid as standing up to those older kids. Most of Jon’s mind had still been running fruitless, frantic laps around the base of that blank family tree, he hadn’t even noticed his feet changing direction, striding towards the knot of hollering secondary school boys.

Jon’s voice hadn’t been nearly as forceful as he’d hoped for, it didn’t come along with the comic book style speech bubble announcing the arrival of a hero that he’d envisioned. But the boys had been surprised enough by anyone, even a stammering ten year old girl to their eyes, daring to tell them ‘stop’ that they’d turned regardless. 

Jon had seen a glimpse of the stray cat they’d been tormenting, the same one those boys always went after when they saw her, just because she didn’t belong to anyone and they knew they could get away with it. A black streak fled between their legs the second she saw her chance, darting between some wheelie bins and disappearing. He’d felt a moment’s fierce pride, the solid certainty that he’d done the right thing. 

Until it ended the same way that feeling always seemed to. With a heavy, painful thump as his legs were swept out from under him and he went crashing down. 

Jon’s eyes were burning again. They weren’t tears but they really stung as they rolled down his face and into the scrapes on his cheeks, the split lip. He could tell himself that taste on his tongue was the salt in the air, that he couldn’t hear his own ragged, sobbing breaths over the scream of the gulls. He was alone, nothing else had to matter. 

He didn’t have to think about how silently angry daadi would be about the blood on his collar and the rusty brown trail that had dripped down his front, how it was another school shirt and jumper ruined that they couldn’t afford to replace. Though of course the skirt he hated was unscathed. He didn’t have to think about how he’d pass those boys who’d seen him cry, again and again in the tight little maze of their streets, running and hiding from them like the poor cat. How he was sitting at the bottom of that bare and empty tree, completely alone, trying to take shelter in a world that was too loud for him. 

So he decided it was a good thing. What other choice did he have?

Jon stood up, wiping his eyes, his jaw tight and determined. If the rest of the world wanted to chase him away then he’d let it. They could keep their noise and their rules that didn’t make sense, their expressions he couldn’t read, their cruelty and their wide eyed staring. He would just stay here forever and never go back. He’d sleep on a bed of seaweed, catch fish and eat seagull eggs, never having to hear another human voice full of anger or pity or disappointment or confusion.

Of course Jon knew it was a childish fantasy, something out of a Robinson Crusoe book he constructed to make himself feel better, to get the same kind of release as throwing pebbles at the cliff face to shatter. The reality was inescapable. He didn’t have any clothes or food or books with him, daadi would call the police when he didn’t come home before the sun went down, just like she always did. They’d find him as he trudged his way home, stomach growling and his whole body shivering with the cold, defeated. 

But he also knew something else, deep down inside himself in a place he hadn’t explored yet.  The place where the adult man he’d be one day was growing, half formed but crystallising slowly. That part knew he didn’t need to become a hermit on a beach to make sure he’d be alone. That he could choose it for himself, build up walls that didn’t need to be physically real to do the job. 

As Jon walked up and down the beach, the life he painted for himself in his head was imaginary but the decision he made was very, very real. 

He didn’t know how to fix the world. He didn’t know how to fix himself. 

So he would just spend his life alone. 

At least then it would be quiet. 

Two

Jon had known it was going to feel strange, going down to the beach again.

There was no other way to feel, putting his feet in furrows he’d worn into the ground a long time ago, finding he still knew exactly where to step, when to turn off, where to go. Even after saying goodbye to this place years before, so sure he’d never see it again, discovering that the way had never really left him, that he hadn’t excised his childhood as neatly as he’d thought. Of course it was going to feel strange. 

Jon just hadn’t expected something else to feel stranger. Because it wasn’t just walking in his own, smaller footsteps. 

It was looking back over his shoulder to see who followed him. 

“I thought you said you used to do this when you were a kid?” Martin’s voice was wheezy around the edges from the hike across the cliffs, but the indignation in it was clear. 

It made Jon laugh, worth the mouthful of his own hair he got as the wind whipped around them, “I did. Nearly every day.”

“Didn’t know you were part mountain goat…” his boyfriend grumbled.

Jon grinned at that, hesitating so Martin could close the gap between them. He caught his hand as soon as he was in reach, sliding their cold fingers together like two cogs in a machine that had always been meant to sit next to each other.

It was early enough in their relationship that little things like that were still surprising Jon. How natural it all felt, how their bodies fit together in small ways, how their personalities that had once seemed so different now threaded together and made something good. Something really, really good actually. 

He wondered if he’d ever stop being surprised by it, however long this thing between them lasted. 

He would hardly call it a small thing but the only reason they were even standing here was because of Martin. Jon had never thought he’d go back to Bournemouth, certainly not after his daadi passed away. The idea had always made him feel sick, like the feeling of pulling off a bandage while knowing it would make the wound scream with pain and look disgusting. 

But they were on a little road trip of sorts, driving down to Daisy’s hometown for her and Basira’s wedding. When Martin had realised how close they’d come to a piece of Jon’s own history, he’d suggested a visit with such a hopeful expression that Jon found himself caving far sooner than he’d ever expected, despite trying his best. 

He’d pointed out they could only spare a few hours, that there was really nothing to see, there was no one who would even recognise or remember or be too pleased to be reminded of him. None of it put Martin off. He’d driven them here with an unmistakable excitement, like someone following a treasure map to a treasure trove. Jon didn’t have the heart to tell him that it was going to be more of a cursed ancient temple situation. 

Of course they’d pulled up to a sky like slate and a sea the colour of a stagnant pond. Immediately the wind found every seam and minute hole on their coats, chilling them to the skin, then down to the bone as periodic showers of that infuriating thin, showering rain randomly fell. The pier and amusements had only gotten older and sadder, decrepit to the point where they’d become more like the setting of a horror movie that was being rather heavy handed with its metaphors. They’d walked up the same tight, claustrophobic streets that had taken a younger Jon home, past his old school, up to a house that looked like his daadi’s while somehow being so different that he couldn’t say he’d ever crossed it’s threshold. 

And every time Jon had turned to Martin to apologise, to promise they could leave straight away and they never had to come back, he’d found him smiling. 

He’d asked so many questions, what Jon’s favourite ice cream shop had been, which slightly malformed steed he’d always chosen on the merry go round, what his favourite subject at school was, which bedroom window had been his. Jon had given his answers, even if they’d felt small and sad to him, each one just making Martin smile wider. 

Almost like he’d found the treasure he’d been looking for and it was just Jon himself. 

So when Martin had asked where he used to play, Jon had reached out, taken his hand and asked him to follow him. He’d decided he’d show his boyfriend something real. 

He just hadn’t told him it was at the bottom of a cliff. 

“Jesus Christ, Jon, they let you do this when you were a kid?” Martin yelped, nearly slipping onto his backside as the path took a sharp slope downwards. 

“No, of course not,” Jon looked over his shoulder from a few paces ahead, grinning, “That was kind of the point. It’s not that bad, really…”

“Not that bad!” Martin scoffed before almost losing his footing completely, only saved from a very hard landing when Jon reached out and caught him, “I always thought you’d be the kind of kid who stayed indoors with a book…”

Jon chuckled, deciding it was best to keep Martin’s hand in his as they skidded down the last little part, “Not really. I’m just that kind of adult. See, the beach is right there, keep your eyes on your feet, there we go…”

Jon found himself dropping right into the middle of his own past. His knees ached more as he braced himself against the pebbles but, other than that, the beach hadn’t changed in the slightest. The curve of the shore must have been enough to shelter it from the winds and time itself, keeping it preserved, not a single stone out of place. It felt a little sacrilegious to be disturbing it now, like it had been enjoying its peace before he came lumbering back. 

Or was it glad to see him come back? Did it even recognise him after a decade and change, with a flat chest and short, greying hair and the rough stubble? This place that had always been the one corner of the world where he could escape and feel like he belonged might not even know who he was. 

“It’s beautiful, Jon.”

Martin’s voice was soft and awed, a little much for what really amounted to a skinny strip of grey sand and pebbles, a fringe of decaying seaweed and a few hollows in a cliff wall. But something in Jon lifted when he said it, a kind of relief, a sense that he’d been right to know Martin would understand. That he’d see what this place had been to him, years ago. 

“I always thought so,” Jon smiled, walking to the edge of the sea, where the water made an instrument of the pebbles as it rolled and rattled them against each other, “In a rough, rugged kind of sad way.”

“Well. That would explain your taste in men, I suppose,” Martin hummed, making Jon cackle along with him. 

Again, Jon was struck by the strangeness of having another laugh bouncing off the cliffs alongside his own, when he’d always thought it would just be him alone and the scream of the gulls. 

He picked through the pebbles around his boots, finding one that was suitably flat and correctly weighted. With a flick of his wrist that became familiar as soon as he drew back his hand, Jon sent it skimming across the water. Five times it kissed the surface before running out of momentum, five circles rippling out between the whitecaps. 

Martin whistled appreciatively, “Guess you spent a while practising that when you were a kid?”

“Well, there’s some natural talent involved,” Jon hummed, playfully smug, “But yes. When I wasn’t playing pirates or pretending to be Mary Anning looking for fossils or imagining I was a siren chewing on the bones of washed up sailors…”

Martin grinned, glancing around like he was imagining a younger Jon racing across the stones, wrapped up in his little games and the momentary freedom they brought him. He bent to pick up a pebble of his own, trying to mimic Jon’s arm motion, though his pebble crashed into the water with an anticlimactic plink. 

“See, that's how you can tell I was one of those kids who stayed inside with the books,” Martin gave a self-deprecating laugh. 

Jon smiled, eyes focused on how the ripples from his stone and the ones from Martin’s were joining together, making a harmonious little pattern, a moment of synchronized calm in the middle of the irritable sea. 

“I’ll teach you how to do it, if you like?” he offered, voice soft, “Unless you’d rather play pirates, of course.”

Martin grinned, smiling so wide the freckles in the corner of his eyes bunched up, “Maybe later. For now, how about you perform a miracle and get me to, let's say, three skips?”

Just like all those years ago, Jon felt like he could breathe easier down on the beach. All the sour memories from the town slid away, drawn off by the current, all the doubts that had buzzed in his brain over returning to the home where his name and his true self were things he’d never been able to share were blown off by the wind. Minutes passed by unnoticed, everything suddenly becoming so easy. 

This place still knew him. He did still belong here.

 “Don’t pull back so far, you’ll lose the control…that's it, just by your ear…deep breath…and go!”

The stone wobbled a little in the air and the last skip probably had a lot more to do with a gust of wind than any skill of Martin’s but there were definitely three skips before the stone sank. 

Martin looked stunned, face alight with a mix of surprise and joy, “I actually did it!”

“You did,” Jon tried not to sound too surprised, it hadn’t needed a miracle exactly but it had certainly been a tall order, “I may live to regret giving you all my trade secrets.”

Martin turned to him, eyes soft and hopeful, “And…what about coming back to Bournemouth? Bringing me here? Do you think you’ll regret that?”

Jon paused before answering, not because he wasn’t sure, he just wasn’t sure of the right words. He leaned his head against Martin’s shoulder, again marvelling quietly at how his boyfriend was just the right height for it to fit perfectly. 

“Do I regret bringing you down here? No, not at all. As for the rest of it? It was…nice to have you be interested. I kept a lot of that stuff packed away for a long time, trying to forget it happened but…it didn’t hurt as much as I thought, getting it all back out again. And I’m glad you made me do it.”

Jon felt Martin’s arm wrap around him like a warm blanket, drawing him in so close he didn’t even feel the wind anymore, “That’s what I was hoping for. It’s always going to hurt, digging through the past but I feel like it hurts more to pretend it isn’t there.”

Jon chuckled dryly, “You’ve been reading that book again, haven’t you? Supporting Your Partner’s Healing or whatever it was…”

“Well, it’s working, isn’t it?” Martin mumbled, a blush creeping up his neck over the collar of his parka. 

“It is…and even if it wasn’t, I’d still love you for it,” Jon gentled his tone, finding Martin’s hand and squeezing, “It is strange, though, being here with you. I always came here to be alone, shut the rest of the world out. It was the point of the place, really.”

It couldn’t have come as a surprise to Martin, it probably wouldn’t have surprised anyone who’d known Jon for more than half an hour. But he sounded sad all the same, pulling him in and pressing a kiss to the top of his head. 

“You were all alone?”

Jon swallowed hard against a sudden lump in his throat, “I…I thought I didn’t have a choice. I thought it was the only way someone like me could be. Whenever I tried anything else, it just hurt so…so I decided it was my choice. I acted like it was what I wanted.”

“Funnily enough, I got that impression when I met you,” Martin clearly tried for humour, betrayed by the way his voice broke just at the edge. 

Jon turned his face against his shoulder, smiling even as tears rolled down his own cheeks “But it didn’t stop you, did it? You’re still here.”

“And I don’t plan on leaving, Jon,” Martin breathed, “Not ever.”

He couldn’t quite believe that, not yet. But maybe he would, one day. 

“My daadi always used to say the world was too loud for me,” Jon rasped, “It still feels like that, sometimes. Most of the time, really.”

Martin stroked his hand up and down Jon’s arm, “I know…but it’s quiet right now?” 

Jon took a deep breath of salty air, leaning into Martin’s warmth and counting the waves until his heartbeat slowed and the blood stopped rushing quite so loud in his ears. 

“It is,” he murmured, knowing it would be enough for now. 

In many ways, Jon was still the frightened kid who’d come to this beach to hide, certain it was the only place he could be safe. He still didn’t understand the world, he was still such a long way from fixing himself. 

But right now, it was quiet. 

And right now, Jon wasn’t alone. 

Three

The beach hadn’t changed, it never did. It was a place so disconnected even time had forgotten it, leaving its stones undisturbed and its cliff faces unaging. A year passed between their visits, sometimes two, but leaning over the ragged edge of the world and looking down on it, Jon found it hard to believe.

His beach never changed but Jon did. And he never felt it more than what he was standing here. 

Because he knew the zig zag path down the sandy side of the cliff wasn’t any different from the one he used to run down heedlessly when he was a child, not a care in the world. But he’d never realised how bloody dangerous it was. 

Not until it was his child about to go careening down it. 

“Daddy!” Gertie tugged at their joined hands with a surprising amount of strength for a three year old or maybe Jon was a lot weaker than he should be, “Daddy, lets go!”

Jon bit his lip, eyes following the path warily, wondering how he’d avoided breaking his neck for so long, “We just need to be very, very careful so we don’t-”

Before he could even finish his sentence, Gertie had pulled enough to send them over the edge. They were suddenly running, kicking up clay and sand, Gertie shrieking in delight and Jon choking on a word he really shouldn’t say in front of his daughter. They half ran, half fell, having to just put one foot in front of the other and trust there would be no broken noses or chipped front teeth. For a second, it was almost like flying. 

And, by the time they landed on the stones, Jon was laughing too. 

Gertie didn’t stop, Jon finally letting her hand slip from his so she could rush towards the waves, go on when he was too out of breath to follow. He felt something of his heart go with her, torn away but given gladly. Tears blurred his eyes for a moment, making them burn along with his lungs. 

“I remember you telling me that walk was, and I quote, ‘not that bad’...”

Jon turned, smiling wryly, not bothering to hide the tear rolling down his cheek. Martin gently wiped it away as soon as he was in reach, letting his hand linger on his husband’s cheek. He didn’t ask, he knew he didn’t need to. He trusted that Jon would tell him. 

“Guess I’m old and boring now,” he leaned into that warmth, sighing softly, “Too old and boring to keep up with her, at least.”

Martin pursed his lips, tilting his head in playful doubt, “Are you sure?”

He nodded towards the shore, shifting Jon’s attention to where their daughter was standing, a splash of colour in her bright yellow raincoat and shiny new wellies, stark against the greys like she really had stepped out of those classic postcards. She was waving, buzzing with childish impatience like she’d only just noticed that Jon wasn’t by her side anymore. 

“Daddy, come on!’ she yelled, “You said we could play pirates!”

Martin smiled softly, nudging Jon’s hand, “If you are too old to keep up with her, I don’t think she’s noticed. And she certainly doesn’t care.”

Once again, Jon wondered how Martin did it. How, whenever the world started to twist around Jon and press in too close, Martin would take it and shake it out like a dusty old carpet, brushing away everything that was just Jon’s own fears and anxieties, leaving him with what was real. How he anchored him, holding his hand when the wind threatened to pull him away, showing him where it was safe to put his feet, leading him back to solid ground. 

He didn’t know how he did it and he didn’t know how he was ever going to thank him for it, not just for that, but for everything. So he kissed him, tasting the cold on his lips. And by some miracle that Jon would never understand, that kept being enough for Martin.

“Daddy! Papa! You’re being gross!”

Jon snorted, finding Martin’s gloved hand and squeezing his fingers, “Come on. Let’s go play pirates.”

Time stopped meaning anything for a little while, the oddly comforting, familiar stress of their lives back in London felt far away. Jon had forgotten how easily games had carried him away when he was the same age as his daughter. How a salt smoothed branch in your hands could feel like a cutlass, how being chased by a wave could turn into an enormous shark lunging from the depths to sink his teeth into you, how the barest hollow in a cliff wall could become a snaking warren deep underground, perfect for smuggling imaginary treasure. He’d forgotten that the images his mind created didn’t need to be terrifying, they didn’t need to be something he fought against like a riptide looking to drag him out to sea. 

He supposed it helped when the games weren’t an escape. When you were eager to return to the world you’d left behind. 

Gertie ran them breathless up and down the beach, only coaxed to stop and take a break by their picnic, a tupperware box of her daddy’s cardamom cookies and a sandwich proving enough of a pull. Jon held her on his lap as she ate, hugging her warmth close against him, face buried in her tangle of auburn curls, just like Martin’s. 

“Daddy,” she hummed, through a mouthful of crumbs, “Why are the pebbles all round here?”

Jon smiled, three years on the planet and she’d not yet run out of questions, “The sea wears them smooth, darling. It’s called attrition, the waves roll them around until all their sharp edges have been rubbed away.”

“Oh,” Gertie hummed, reaching down to grab one, turning it over in her chubby hand as she examined every nick and stripe on its surface, “It makes them very pretty.”

“I think so too,” Jon chuckled, “And it makes them very good for skimming.”

That snagged her attention, her green eyes widening, “Oh! I wanna do that! Can we?”

Jon smiled over at Martin, “Actually? Your papa ended up being the expert on that. He’s way better at it than I ever was.”

Martin snorted, blushing a little, the way he always did when he was given any sort of compliment, “Well. I had a very good teacher.”

“Teach me! Teach me, papa!” Gertie scrambled up, needing both her hands to wrap around just one of her papa’s, trying to pull him to his feet.

Martin beamed at her like he was looking at the sun, clambering up from the stones, “I’m coming, sweetie…are you going to be okay on your own?” he hesitated, turning back to Jon for a moment. 

Jon nodded, hugging his knees to his chest, feeling warm in spite of the cold, “I will be. You won’t be far.”

“Never,” Martin’s eyes softened before letting Gertie lead him down to the shore. 

Their laughter and chatter faded a little, somewhat lost in the rumble of the waves but, just like Martin promised, he never lost sight of them. They looked like a perfect pair, same softness, same muddy red curls, even the same jumper after Martin had enough yarn left over for two. Sitting here, Jon could just wonder how he was ever lucky enough to get two of them. 

He’d always feigned frustration over their daughter coming out as the spitting image of Martin, joking that he could have saved himself nine months of work and just shoved his husband into the Archives photocopier. Martin would always joke right back, batting his eyelids and saying, well, they’d have to have another kid, see if they could get one with some of Jon’s genetics. He’d never mean it, not really, he’d never push his husband about something like that. 

Jon was looking forward to seeing Martin’s face when he told him they were going to find out.

But that could wait until they were back in London, back in their lives. For now, Jon sat and listened to the waves, thinking about the little boy who’d come here to be alone, to hide from a world that refused to understand him and was too loud for him. The little boy who’d built his walls here, thinking he’d have to live behind them forever, that his only choice was between quiet and fear, that there was never any path that would lead to happiness. That he’d never be fixed. 

Jon didn’t know if he was fixed, not completely. But maybe that wasn’t how it worked. Maybe there had always been a place in the world anyway, he’d just needed to be brave enough to find it. 

He knew he couldn’t go back in time and reassure that younger version of himself, promise him it would all be okay in the end, that he would deserve all the joy that would eventually find him. That child was out of his reach. 

But Jonathan Sims could make sure, would make sure, that his own children never had to feel like the world was too loud for them. 

They would never feel like they had to be alone. 

[connorsnothereeither]

okay wait i am confused is virgil canon trans or no or open 2 interpretation ?

Honestly, that’s valid, I feel like the comments I made about it on stream were more confusing than I intended them to be 😅

I think, personally, I would consider it canon that Virgil is transmasc, yes.

It wasn’t the original intent with his character, and it’s not a big part of his character traits in any way, but personally, as the creator, yeah I think he is. He wasn’t created as a transmasc-character, but he is a character I think is transmasc, if that distinction makes sense? Regardless he’s certainly not cis, since he uses he/they pronouns.

I think in the moment, my hesitation in just saying “yes” stemmed from the fact that as a (somewhat) cis-presenting amab person, I didn’t want to just be slapping on the idea that he was trans after the fact as a “fun quirky character trait” because I was afraid it would come off disingenuous? But realistically, there is a lot of Virgil which is an extension of myself, and that exploration of gender presentation and identity through him is personally very genuine, and I think in hindsight I am more confident in saying yes, with the clarification that Virgil’s story is not about him being trans in any way, and isn’t particularly affected by it at all, but it is canon.

[kingofmyborrowedheart]

i’ve been wondering how you make swiftlet- do you listen to taylor’s entire discography for each episode or do you just listen like normal and take notes when something you want to discuss comes up?

Hi Miles! So Swiftlit started out as my senior capstone project for college. I chose to write about expanding the literary canon in higher education and using music as a way to enter into analysis and I specifically used Taylor’s music as an example. For my creative piece I decided to write podcast scripts combining literary theory and Taylor’s music, so the Feminist Theories, reputation and Characters episodes were the pieces I wrote for it. I just expanded on them for the actual podcast and separated the rep bits from the Characters one and turned them into two episodes. For the other episodes if there’s a holiday coming up I try to think of some theme related to it I could center an episode around. Before actually starting the podcast, I jotted down some potential episode ideas of parallels that particularly strike me in her works and I’ve just been bouncing around that list. I don’t tend to actively seek out an idea, although one might hit me when I’m listening to her music. I’m just kind of aware of the parallels and common themes she writes about thanks to listening for so long and my background in Creative Writing and literary analysis. I’ve been “trained” to search for connections and themes in all kinds of work so it just kinda happens with hers too. I do have a big lyric document that I go through and search for key words if doing a Marvelous Motif episode to help me out; though this time I went song by song to make sure I didn’t miss anything. To sum up this long rant: I essentially just have too much Taylor knowledge floating around in my head that I call on and see if I can find a decent amount of connections with other songs to get an episode out of.

[hoshigray]

𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐭 𝐧' 𝐒𝐡𝐞𝐞𝐭𝐬 | nanami kento

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬: werewolf! Nanami x afab/fem! reader - explicit content; minors DNI - heat/rut cycles - masturbation (m! receiving) - oral (f! receiving) - clitoral play - mating press position - breeding kink - unprotected sex (psa: wrap the willy, you sillies!) - knotting - biting/love bites - first he's sweet, then he's a bit feral - pet names (angel, baby, honey, my love, sweetpea, sweetie) - mention of cum, and spit/drool.

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 1.9k

Nanami Kento, your stoic, judicious, respectable, and attentive husband, is a werewolf. It is a fact that might sound exciting on the outside, yet it is quite a hassle for the blonde to go through. Despite that, he ensures he cares for his partner and their needs because you, his beautiful lover, are his priority.

“—Ahhhck, ohhhfuckkk!! Harder, Ken, hardeeerr!!”

…Until his ruts kick the door, and he’s wired to fuck your brains out. 

Imagine it, right? Nanami’s been under the motions of his rut for hours, and it’s been going cataclysmically unpleasant. We’re talking very long – excruciatingly long – hours of writhing under the blanket of his horniness. Bad enough that he’s called off work for two days straight, writhing and sweating in his sheets because his head is pounding nonstop, pushing his face deep into the pillow because it hurts to think, and the tent of his sweatpants becoming more and more solid with every whiff of your scent on his bed.

You. That’s all he can think about; it’s like a necessity. Fair-colored eyebrows knitted together tightly the more he sniffs your scent off the pillow, messy bed hair sticking to sweat the more he squirms and trails a hand down to his raging boner. Choked groans slip out his lips as he fists himself, the friction becoming faster and stronger as his wish to be here beside him propels his heartbeat to leave him winded.

“Hahhhfuck…baby…” he says your name in a blurry haze, memories flaunting pictures of you to worsen his drive. The grip on his dick goes firmer, to and fro, from the crown of his glans to the base and top of his ballsack. All he wants right now is for you to be closer, to kiss, to suck, to bite, to mate — to breed.

“Kenny, baby, I’m home!” And just like that, his prayers are answered. “I brought some food on my way back!”

He can hear you by your footsteps waltzing around the apartment, your scent becoming pungent and seeping from under the bedroom door, adding more fuel to aggravate the fog in his head. His teeth are clenched, strokes are rampant, and a spot on his grey sweats is dampening. 

“Babe, you here?” You draw near the room, knocking on the door before opening it. “Ohh, Kento—Oh!!” Of course, you walked in on him in a vulnerable state, already throwing apologies his way and turning your heel back. “Sorry! I didn’t know you were—“

“No, n-no, it’s okay,” he stammers, and you halt. “Please, sweetie…I need your help here.”

Your lips flatten at the plea; the way he borderline begs for your participation pulls a chord. You silently close the door, taking soft steps to the bed before sitting on the mattress. Your spouse-in-heat pulls his sweatpants down to his ass for his length to spring out, erect and angry to be used.

There is slight diffidence in your hands until Nanami pulls yours to switch; your breath hitches at the contact of his glans on your palm. Nanami hisses as your cold fingers curl around his shaft; the contrast of the temperature as you glide up and down forces his thighs to quirk. “Ahhh, yess, yes, my love,” he melts under your touch, subtly bucking his hips to your tempo.

“Holy shit…” the sight of his precum slipping out of the urethra and trailing down and slipping under your fingertips makes you chew your lip. “It’s that bad?” Your husband nods. “What you need, baby?”

He grabs for your shirt with a vicious grip as you keep stroking his pulsing dick, and you gulp thickly. “You,” he says lowly. “I need you. Right now.”

And just like the lovely and pleasing person you are, you allow him to have his way with you.

Stripped off your pants and panties, your legs spread apart by his hands, a dominant hold on the back of your knees as he pushes them to your chest, and your cunt is bare for him to ravish. He’s fucking hungry for you, his tongue practically glued to your labia and swishing around to collect your slick. Sounds of intense slurps on your vulva can be heard, pushing his face deep for his nose to brush up on your clitoris while he drinks your come. You moan aloud, a sharp cry as he flicks his wet muscle on your bud, encircling around it. 

“Ohhh, hoohh…!” You grip the sheets beneath you as he sucks on your peal after spitting on it. “Fuck, Kentooo, wait a—Nnmm!”

“Hnnmm…Mmpah, shit, you taste so good, baby,” he mutters before lapping on your clip lazily, and you throw your head to the pillow. “Smell so good, too…” Nanami returns his mouth to your opening, wet with your liquids and his saliva, coursing his tongue again to pervade through your sensitive flesh. And he pushes the muscle into your slit, and you jerk upwards.

“—Mmm, Kento, stooop!” Trembling legs fail to muster out of his grip. “I caaan’t; I just came already…!!” He pushes his tongue to and fro, fucking you with every push and sucking in more of your nectar to coat his tastebuds. Your nerves have already spiked thanks to your orgasm prior, yet your partner continues to double you down to a whimpering mess. 

He places chaste kisses on your privates, then substitutes his mouth with a swift insert of his middle finger. He already has you wailing from the digit wiggling inside. Fuck, you looked so cute. 

You nearly choke on the spit as his middle finger grazes against your vaginal walls. “—Fuuuck, Kenn’, don’t, I’m too sensi—“ 

“I know, honey,” he coos while his finger pleases you to the knuckle, secretly teasing his ring finger before you gasp sharply at the insertion. Now, two digits push and pull your innards, venturing knuckles-deep to erupt more uncontrollable moans to fly out your mouth. “But I gotta have you ready for me.”

“…B-But I am readyyy!!” Your words slur unintentionally; damn his fingerwork! “I want iiit; I want you so bad!”

“What’s that? What do you want?” He teases with a grin on your clitoris with his thumb; he knows what you want – the exact thing he needs right now. It’s just better when you say it.

“Kento, please! Fuck me!” you beg with glossy eyes. “Fill me up, ‘kay? Make me all fat and full tonight…!”

God, did he love to hear you say it, quivers crawling up his spine as he removes his fingers to suck on. What you said was all he needed to hear; he was going to fuck you regardless, but you have no idea how much he needed to dump every bit of him into you. 

And the moment his dick slips inside your tightness, the last piece of his persistence is thrown out the window.

Animalistic — for lack of a better term — is how Nanami is during his cycle. It’s not something you’re unfamiliar with based on prior intimate moments, but during times like this, it’s nothing but. It’s evident in the way he has you right now, with your legs propped to your chest and his fat cock stuffed inside your wet chasm.

Under Nanami’s bow, you lie on the receiving end of your husband’s inexorable pace. The moment the blonde man added the tip of his cock to your warmth, he gave in to his inner desires. He snapped his hips so hard and fast that your entire frame rippled with his harsh movements, not giving you time even to breathe, nearly choking on your spit.

Sounds of skin slapping against each other go louder by the second, and he moans aloud to add to the chaos of the bedroom. Jesus, fuck, you felt so fucking good! So snug and warm, so suitable for his aching dick, which he’s been drilling into your slit already stuffed with his come, filling your womb after two previous rounds. But it wasn’t enough from how much kept coming out from every push; he needed to fuck you — he needed to knot you! 

“Shiiit, shit—Hnnngh!” The way your vaginal walls keep clamping him is enough to snatch his soul. “Damn, this is crazy…!”

“Ahhh, ahhhhh, ohh!” Your cries grow squeakier, Nanami’s fat girth grazing your sweet spots easily. “Ohhhhyesss, keep fucking meeee….Harder, hardeeerr!”

Oh, you’re such a bad influence telling him that, kindling the fair-headed man’s primal desire to fuck you loose by rutting into you with increased speed and strength and frequent pokes to your cervix cause you to howl. “Yeahhh, you like that, angel? Like when I fuck the shit out of my pussy like this?” You were twitching like crazy as he growled those words to you; fuck yeah, you liked it – no, LOVED it.

“Yessss, babyy!!” Your expression was so fucked out, drool coming down from your puffy lips slide to your cheek. This position leaves you utterly submissive to Nanami like some breeding toy. It was pathetically euphoric! “Ohhhhh, fuck, more, gimme moree…!!”

“More?” God, he can feel it, his pacing going astronomically slower as he thrusts into you, and the way you whine at the abrupt change sends shivers. “Want me to bust my load again, my love?” You nodded frantically; fuck, you were so cute. “Want me to fill you up so bad so you can give me pups, huh?”

The more he talked, the more your excitement dialed. He then comes to your neck to lick and place a bite to your glands, and you shrill. “Yesss, yesss!! Stuff m’e up, make me fat with y’r babies, Kennyyy!!”

Holy fucking shit, his head pounds harder, elicits more loving bites, and he sneaks a hand to swipe your clitoris erratically. “Nnmm, fuck…Knot, I need’ta knot…!”

“Give it ‘o meee, Kento!!” You’re sure you sounded ridiculous, yet there’s no care in sight. Everything felt too good and right. “Gimme y’ur knot, baby, I want it, I want iiit…!”

That’s all you need to say before Nanami crashes his hungry lips onto yours and returns his hip to a jackhammering motion. Your tongue swirls with his, eyes rolling up with more hits to your womb while he sucks on your tongue wantonly. Grinds up against your G-spot has you squeezing him like no tomorrow, and you cry aloud as you sense something inside your inner channel expands. 

The base of Nanami’s penis inflates, the limb swelling up within your wetness and stays locked inside your cunt as he continues to piston himself into you as deep as he can. The more you scream into his mouth, the harder he ruts into you until the fated and desired reaction comes to rattle you both. 

Nanami ejaculates into you for the third time that night, padding your insides with more of his white, sticky, and thick jizz while the waves of his orgasm trap him in a state of elation. You come with him, wailing into the passionate kiss as your lower body quivers in its soreness, the walls of your vagina fluttering around the length in a sporadic pattern until your muscles gradually transition to rest. 

The knot keeps your lover inside you for a bit longer, even after Nanami’s done filling you up to the brim. But it doesn’t matter; your unionized state allows the both of you to spend this clarity together, kissing and tittering sweetly within your shared proximity.

“Make me a mama, Kento,” you whisper with a soft kiss on his sunken cheek.

And Nanami smiles breathlessly; the thought of you and a future pup to liven his happy little family swoons his heart with gladness.

© 𝐇𝐨𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐲2024 – reblogs and comments are appreciated wholeheartedly ⊹ transparent edit made by me + dividers from @animatedglittergraphics-n-more.

[leaawrites]

Underwater

Percy Jackson x daughter of Dionysus

!Aged up characters!

Warnings: drinking, kissing, use of Y/n, fem reader, being underwater, fluff,

(I have only read the first book + bit of the second)

Summary: Beach day with Percy.

Masterlist

The wine in her hands cooled down by the time the sun went down. She couldn’t drink too much of it before, because from the sun it was stood in for too long the liquid was warm and not nice to taste in her opinion.

The waves crashed at the shore of the beach. Camp Half-Blood felt like it was almost as empty as it can get. Sure, there were still a few souls left behind, but most of the kids were on summer break. Annabeth left the two of them a day or two prior to this with a look that screamed, ‘Don’t do anything that I wouldn’t do.’ Which was a lot, in Y/n’s opinion.

The difference between the two girls was big. One who liked to drink and feel pleasure, while the other liked to be out in the world, fighting, planning, winning.

The wine got caught up in her throat as she laughed how Percy played in the water like a little kid, making her cough.

Percy’s eyes snapped to her, when he heard the coughing sounds coming from the shore. He knew that nothing bad could really happen (beside her choking on the liquid) but he was still concerned.

Y/n put her hand up in assurance, telling him that everything was fine, even as she was still fighting for her life.

The waves hit her skin as she wandered further into his direction. She was knee deep in the water, and soon enough Percy Jackson, Son of Poseidon, stood in front of her, taking the glass from her hands and taking a bit of the wine himself. The stone that was in the water beside them was a flat surface, perfect to place a drink on top of it.

Percy put the glass down and wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her closer to his chest. Y/n sucked in a breath at the contact of his cold arms and her warm skin.

“You wanna go for a swim?” He asked her, smiling as the sun hit her face perfectly. Making her shine just as bright as she was seen by him. Her face glowing from the heat, her hair moving around her face in the wind.

The girl closed one eye, before putting her hand up against the side of her face, to shield them from the sun. The water on his face wandered over to her skin as their foreheads touched. Seeing the split between her hand and his face, she moved it over to shield his eyes from the sun rather than her own.

“I would like to.” she smiled at him, crunching up her nose and touching his. Percy’s head was higher then hers - his whole body was taller than hers - which resolved in her having to go up to her tiptoes to press a kiss against his lips. “But the water is cold,” she whispered against his lips.

This was the only downside of the heat and the need to cool down. The water was too cold for her liking.

Percy looked at her in a are-you-serious way, tilting his head to the side. The sun quickly dried the water drops, that his arms left on her waist, after he removed them. Taking her hands in his, he slowly guided the girl further into the water. When it brushed mid her chest, she stopped walking, forcing him to stop as well.

“What is it?” The boy asked, looking at her confused.

“I think that’s enough,” she answered.

For someone who usually could talk for hours on end and always had to prove herself, Y/n was extremly shy when it came to cold temperatures. She didn’t like the way her skin would feel like it was clinging to her body when touching it.

Percy moved his arms from her hands to her waist again. Y/n could see a smirk forming on his face and she was sure she knew what was about to come from his mouth.

“I’m very sorry for this,” he apologized beforehand for what he was about to do.

Tightening his grip on her waist he let gravity win and make his body fall backwards into the water behind him. Y/n shrieked when her body fell together with his, splashing water as their force hit the surface. Underwater, Percy pulled her body closer to his, letting his lips melt together with her, in order to make her stay there for a little while longer.

Y/n was the first one to resurface from the water. When she saw curls come up beside her, she began to splash Percy full with water. She wanted him to regret what he’d done. But there was nothing that could make him regret it.

It was a perfect summer day in the sea and he was with her. In some sense, that moment felt like it was all that would ever matter to him. He would never be ashamed of telling the story of how they were human. How they acted too immature for a few hours every day, so that their fun wouldn’t disappear. Life was too short to pretend that nobody was immature. Everyone was in some way.

[dreamdragonkadia]

A/n; I want Xaden kisses. This man is just so so fine

The "You're Mine" Kiss

It’s not subtle. Never with Xaden. He doesn’t ask; he declares. These kisses usually come when someone’s pushed his buttons, stirring that fierce, protective side of him—or when he’s feeling the slightest flicker of jealousy. Whether it’s a lingering glance from someone else, a whispered comment he doesn’t like, or your casual flirtation with danger, his reaction is immediate.

Xaden’s hand curls around the back of your neck, his fingers threading into your hair, while his thumb presses lightly against your pulse. It’s deliberate, as if he’s savoring the way your heartbeat quickens under his touch. His other hand finds your waist, holding you firm, anchoring you to him.

When his lips crash against yours, it’s not a question—it’s an answer. There’s nothing tentative about the way he kisses you. It’s fierce, unapologetic, and possessive, the kind of kiss that takes and keeps, like he’s trying to carve his name into your very soul. His tongue brushes against yours in a commanding and relentless way, until the world fades into the heat of his touch and the fire of his kiss.

When he finally pulls away, your lips are swollen, your breath uneven, and yet he still doesn’t move back, his forehead resting against yours. His dark eyes lock onto yours, smoldering with an intensity that sends a shiver down your spine. His voice is low, roughened by the kiss, as he mutters against your lips, "Don’t forget it."

The Silent Apology Kiss

Xaden doesn’t stumble over apologies. He is honest—sometimes brutally so—and he rarely sugarcoats his words. It’s just who he is. But that honesty cuts both ways, and when his temper gets the better of him, the feeling of his regret is visible in the aftermath.

He doesn’t apologize right away. Instead, he clutches his fists tight enough that his knuckles turn white, jaw set in frustration, and leaves the room to cool off. It’s not anger at you—it’s at himself.

Later, when the quiet stretches too long and the sharp edges of the fight haven’t dulled, he finds you. You’re sitting alone, arms wrapped around yourself, the anger still coiled between you like a living thing. Xaden pauses in the doorway for a moment, as though gathering the resolve to step closer.

When he does, he doesn’t say a word. He crosses the room with quiet stubbornness, his shadow stretching long across the floor. Without hesitation, he kneels in front of you, his dark eyes meeting yours, raw and unguarded, willing you to see his apology. His hand moves to your chin, tilting your face toward him with a touch so gentle it almost breaks you.

Then his lips press to your forehead—warm, steady, and conscious. The kiss lingers, longer than normal, like he’s trying to say everything he can’t put into words. You feel his breath against your skin, the slight tremor in his exhale, and the unspoken apology that hums in the quiet between you.

When he pulls back, staring into your eyes, his fingers still resting lightly against your jaw. “I shouldn’t have snapped,” he finally mutters.

But you both know the words aren’t necessary. The kiss already said it all.

The Teasing Peck

These are the kisses that catch you off guard, the ones that leave your thoughts scattering like leaves in the wind. It’s usually when you’re rambling, your mind spiraling in a dozen directions while you pace the room, oblivious to his gaze. Xaden leans lazily against a doorframe, arms crossed, his infuriatingly smug grin tugging at the corner of his lips.

He doesn’t interrupt—yet. He’s watching you, his eyes following the gestures of your hands as you emphasize your points, but you’re too focused to notice the way his thoughts wander. He’s imagining you in ways he probably shouldn’t: sprawled beneath him, lips swollen from his kisses, cheeks flushed as you—

“Xaden, are you even listening to me?” you snap, finally noticing the far-off gleam in his eyes.

He doesn’t answer. He just steps forward, closing the space between you with ease. His hand grabs yours, the roughness of his fingers distracting you for a split second before he dips down and presses the quickest of kisses to your lips.

It’s fleeting—barely more than a brush—but the warmth lingers, and before you can even process it, he’s pulling back. You’re frozen mid-sentence, the words catching in your throat as you gape at him, completely derailed.

His smirk deepens, satisfaction rolling off him in waves. His eyes glitter with amusement as he says, “I am now.”

Then he steps back, leaving you standing there while he saunters away like he hasn’t just turned your entire train of thought into a pile of rubble.

The "I’m Proud of You" Kiss

Xaden’s praise is rare, which makes these moments all the more significant. He’s not the type to toss around compliments lightly—they’re earned, and when he gives them, you know they’re sincere. It’s after you’ve done something he didn’t expect—holding your ground in a heated argument, outmaneuvering him in a sparring match, or catching him off guard by being a step ahead of his usually unshakable intuition.

He won’t show his admiration immediately when there are other eyes watching or more pressing matters at hand. That’s not his style, particularly when serious things are going down. But once the adrenaline fades and it’s just the two of you, that’s when you see it.

The moment comes quietly. His hands finding your waist with a confidence that feels like second nature. His touch is familiar yet tender, like all he wants in that moment is to hold you, to ground himself in you. His gaze softens, the hard edges of his usual intensity melting into something gentler, more vulnerable.

“You amaze me, you know that?” he says, his voice intimate, meant only for you.

There’s no smirk this time, no teasing gleam in his eyes—just quiet reverence as his lips find yours. The kiss is slow, unhurried, and meaningful, carrying none of the urgency or fire you might expect from him after a meeting. Instead, it’s full of something deeper, something that speaks volumes more than words ever could.

His hands tighten slightly at your waist, pulling you just a fraction closer, as though to keep you in the moment. It’s not about heat or desire; it’s about acknowledgment, admiration, and the way he sees you as someone who continually surprises him, challenges him, and is there for him.

When he pulls back, he lets out a soft exhale, as though saying the words aloud was as much for him as it was for you. The corner of his mouth lifts in a faint smile, his thumb brushing over your side as he adds, “I love you.”

The Protective Kiss

These kisses come when fear shadows his features—something you rarely see. Xaden seems unshakable, the rock in any storm, but when it’s you, when it’s your life that’s been on the line, that unyielding façade cracks.

It might be after a battle, when the adrenaline is still coursing through his veins and the memory of you being too close to danger burns fresh in his mind. Or maybe it’s in the quiet aftermath of a dangerous mission, when the reality of what could have happened finally catches up with him.

His hands are on you before you can even speak, his grip hard, almost bruising, as they settle on your arms. His dark eyes sweep over you, searching for any sign of injury, his jaw clenched so tightly it looks like it might snap. It’s as if he’s trying to convince himself that you’re really here, whole and unbroken, standing in front of him.

He doesn’t say a word—he can’t, not yet. Instead, he leans in, his lips finding yours with a desperation that borders on frantic. The kiss is desperate, unrelenting, like he’s trying to breathe you in, to memorize the feel of you against him. There’s nothing soft or measured about it; it’s raw, primal, and filled with the kind of fear that only comes from almost losing the one thing that matters most.

His hands slide down to your waist, his fingers curling into the fabric of your shirt as though he’s afraid you might disappear if he lets go.

His voice, when it comes, is low and hoarse, laced with an edge of anger that’s born entirely of fear. “Don’t you ever do that to me again,” he murmurs, the words both a command and a plea.

You can see the tension in his shoulders, the way his jaw tightens even further as he pulls you into his chest, holding you close like he needs to feel your heartbeat to steady his own. And in that moment, you realize just how much power you hold over him—and how much he’d risk to keep you safe.

The Slow-Burn Kiss

This kiss doesn’t start with lips; it starts with a look. A glance that’s lingered far too long, one of those smoldering gazes that sets your pulse racing and makes the room feel suddenly too warm. Xaden’s been giving you that look all day—subtle, deliberate, the kind that curls low in your stomach and leaves you wondering if he’s toying with you or if he’s just biding his time.

It’s not just the look, either. It’s the small touches: his hand brushing yours as he hands you something, his fingertips ghosting over your lower back as he passes by, the way his thumb lingers a fraction too long when he presses it to your cheek. And yet, somehow, he’s avoided your lips. He’s kissed your forehead in the early morning light, his lips soft and fleeting, and later, he brought your hand to his mouth, his eyes never leaving yours as he pressed a kiss to your knuckles. But your lips? Not once.

It’s a game, you realize—a maddeningly obvious one. He’s drawing it out, savoring your growing impatience with the kind of quiet control that only makes you want him more.

When he finally moves, it’s with an intended slowness that feels like it’s meant to unnerve you. He steps closer, his presence overwhelming, and the space between you vanishes until he’s right there. His hand comes up, his fingertips tracing the line of your jaw, his touch impossibly soft.

He leans in, his breath warm against your skin, and for a moment, you think he’s going to kiss you. But his lips brush against yours so lightly it feels more like a question than an answer, a whisper of what’s to come. It’s intentional—teasing, torturous—like he’s testing your patience, drawing out the moment until it stretches impossibly thin.

And then, finally, when you tilt your head and close the gap, he lets you have it. His lips press to yours, a kiss that’s all-consuming without ever feeling rushed. His hands slide around your waist, pulling you flush against him, and the world around you fades until there’s nothing left but him—the warmth of his touch, the steadiness of his breath, and the unspoken promise that this moment is entirely yours.

It’s not just a kiss; it’s a claiming, a vow in its own right. And you can’t help but wonder how you ever managed to breathe without him.

[hannya-writes]

When they call you their wife (Genshin Impact Version)

Fandom: Genshin Impact Pairing: Kaeya x reader, Diluc x Reader, Zhongli x Reader, Xiao x Reader Other characters: ehh, I think I mentiones Traveler in Zhongli's part, Diluc is also mentioned in Kaeya's part Category: Romance, scenarios Warnings: There's a little bit of violence in Xiao's part but it's not detailed. I think that's it! Author's note: It's ten days since the beggining of the year, happy new year people! Sorry about the delay, I'm terrible with time so... yeah there's that better late than sorry! Hope you enjoy~

Kaeya

“And this beautiful lady is my dear wife”

This man lives to see people's reactions to what he does and says. So he bets to himself what your reaction will be to every of his crazy ideas, so maybe he teases you a lot and flirts with you shamelessly.

He went to Sumeru to represent Jean since she was very occupied. You, on your part,were assigned to protect him since he was an important diplomat of Mondstadt.

You tried to be as professional as possible but it was hard when Kaeya found every opportunity to flirt with you.

Kaeya is a gentleman around you, treating you like his date rather than his guard.

So he makes you relax, he makes you laugh with his comments. When he hears you were assigned because of your dexterity with the sword he gets interested in your story.

Where did you learn to fight? When did you start? Who was your master? You went to the akademya? You were a Mat, Matra? 

Kaeya gets really invested so you decide to answer his questions only if he answers them too.

And Kaeya is happy to reveal all of his stories and secrets to know you because you are not like most people, you don't get frightened when he says he once woke up a ruin guardian to win a fight.

“It a valid gamble” you say while nodding and Kaeya’s eyes bright like he just heard the most beautiful music of all Teyvat.

When Kaeya finally has to go back to Mondstadt you are informed that you will have the mission to bring him back to the capital of Wind safe and sound.

It was a long and tiring trip, you had to defend yourself and him more than once and Kaeya was more than happy to fight by your side.

There was only one problem in the last part of your journey: a Samachurl Froze your ankle and while you were able to kill it the frostbite was a problem.

Kaeya, ever the gentleman carried you to a safe place, the house of his childhood: Dawn’s Winery

He knocked at the door and was faced with a surprised Adeline, who hurried to get everything needed to help you.

Maybe an hour later Kaeya’s brother appeared and explained your situation, only that he presented you as his wife.

Diluc was taken aback when Kaeya presented you as his wife. He looked at his brother with a specially deep frown, making Kaeya say: “It was love at first drink”

There are three options: one were Diluc apologizes…

 “My apologize, it seems my brother hurt his head and is speaking nonsense”

Another option is if you are someone who is honest and you react nervously, denying his statement, Kaeya will laugh and tells you, in a joking tone, that you don't have to get shy, this is his brother!

The last option is if you act all composed, there's a chance that Diluc will smile and sarcastically play along, as you two chat, ignoring Kaeya who will definitely get touchy at the lack of attention.

If you laugh and play along with him, he will most definitely hug you by the waist and start calling you his wife for every goddamn reason he can think of.

“My wife would like a glass of water” “I can't give that to my wife” “Diluc, she is my wife be polite” Now Kaeya can't stop calling you his wife.

Diluc

“Carefull now, Mr.client, That's my wife you are talking about”

Diluc won't call you his wife if it's not true, so you are married to the Dark knight hero, the thing is: Almost no one knows about you two because Diluc doesn't want to put you in danger.

You two met at the Angel's Share. You were a knight of favonius, he was bartending.

You had gone there to celebrate someone's birthday, only that unlike the rest you didn't ask for an alcoholic beverage, you asked for apple cider.

While everyone got plastered you chatted the night away with Diluc.

Let me tell you, Diluc was happy to talk to someone who wasn't complaining about his life nor was drunk. It was one of the best nights of his life.

So maybe, when you forgot your vision on the bar to go help one of your friends, he didn't say anything, wanting to have a reason to look for you.

Oh, and he looked for you the next day!

Everyone was shitting their pants when they saw Diluc entering the headquarters. Everyone was wondering what he was doing there, if there was a crisis, if… wait, why was he talking to you?

Diluc gave back your vision and since that moment he found the way to get involved with you.

That being said, he proposed after two years of knowing you and the wedding was at the Dawn Winery and was very, very small.

Persons who where at the wedding: Kaeya, Jean, Lisa and Adelinde, besides the nun who officiated the wedding. (I said it was a small wedding!)

I mean, being Mrs. Ragvindir would put you up in the list of people to kidnap in Monstadt, not because of the dark knight hero thing, no, no, no. It's because of the mora.

He only calls you his wife because he has to instill fear in the bones of the man who dared to speak about you

What did the man said? “That Y/n, she has such a pretty ass, have you seen it?... Come on! She looks like such a slut with that skimpy clothes, I would love to spank…”

And Diluc is not going to let anyone talk about his wife, like that in his own bar.

Yes maybe you are a Favonius’ knight and yes it's true your ass is pretty, especially when you use shorts… but no one is allowed to talk about you like that, like you are nothing but an object.

Okay, maybe he can but only when he's alone with you in the middle of some dirty session of love making.

When he say those words, he’s totally saying them to scare the shit out of whoever dared to be disrespectful to you. Because, a menace from him is something to fear, he was the youngest calvary captainof the knights. He was a master swordman.

Diluc knows you can defend yourself, you probably will kick this drunkard ass, but he prefers to instill fear in people than have you getting in trouble with Jean.

Don't get mad at Diluc, he’s a bit overprotective of you because he loves you.

The man suddenly sobers up as soon as his ears registered Diluc words. He looks ashamed and regretful of his choice of words, he offers an apology and leave because it's so damn late!

As soon as Diluc sees you back home, he can't avoid looking at you with adoration only to confess his slip up the moment you two are having dinner.

The only thing you can say is: “It's about time everyone knows”

Zhongli

“Oh, Y/n is my wife, didn't I mentioned it?”

He was 3,000 years old when he met you. You were the prettiest living being he had ever seen. 

A minor Goddess with strong wings that adorned your back. A Goddess enslaved to be a gift to the lord of vortex, send heavily guarded in a caravan that happened to pass near the Guili plains thanks to an accidental detour

You were the goddess of Song and the Dawn, the bringer of peace after a nightmare.

Zhongli could forget even his own name but he would never forget your panicked expression when your eyes landed on him.

He was so damn tall, intimidating and serious that you had thought the Dragon wanted to keep you for himself.

However, Morax had opened the cage and told you in a stern and cold voice that you were free.

You were so afraid that you didn't step out until he got away from you. Then you flew away in the form of a bright and colorful bird.

 You didn't plan to go back to where he was but curiosity got the best of you, so you went back and watched Morax in silence from the distance.

The Adepti tried to scare you away unsure of how to deal with you stalking the prime Adepti. However, you didn't budge. Everyday you appeared in your bird form to sing to Morax and wake him up.

Slowly the adepti accepted your presence, they even started to try and get you to stay a little bit more since Morax started asking about the bird he has been hearing.

Morax one day woke up earlier only to tell you that you could stay for breakfast and since that moment you two started to eat together.

You were grateful to him and looked for forms to let him know, from giving him flowers, act as his messenger to the Yaksha and even sing for him. He had saved you from being a concubine of Osial, there was too much to be grateful.

Between this acts of devotion, Morax started to pay more and more attention to you and even when he didn’t understand his feelings he knew one thing: He wanted to keep you close and keep you safe.

Thousands of years were needed but you two ended up getting married.

Now, in all of this more than 3,000 years of Marriage he has called you Wife, but I really like this time when he forgot to introduce you as his wife because for him is common knowledge. Everyone knows Rex Lapis is married to the goddess of Song and Dawn. Everyone who is important to him knows you.

Those being, the adepti..

But the traveler saw you two eating together one afternoon. And they saw you walking together by the bay while holding hands. Another day he saw you clinging to Zhongli’s arm while he seemed to be explaining something to you.

They assumed you two were dating. They even got to speak to you for a commission, something about a ring made of noctiluose jade.

So Traveler being a little rascal started talking about you with Zhongli and he seemed to be happy to talk about you. 

“When are you gonna ask her to marry you?” Traveler asks mischievously and Zhongli laughs and say the phrase. 

The travelers gets all surprised but then asks how did that happened and Zhongli is proud to explain how he managed to ask for your hand.

Next time traveler meets you, they notice the ring around your finger.

However, they notice thewhole ring is made of Cor lapis.

As you notice their curious gaze you tell him the story about how Rex lapis made Cor lapis only to propose to you.

Which makes sense since Cor lapis literally means “Heart of stone”

Xiao

“Get your hands away from my wife!”

Xiao is not a man of many words, he’s terrible at expressing his feelings to everyone.

And I mean everyone, even with you. 

However, you should know that he will never call you his wife if he isn't married to you.

This is because he once heard Zhongli telling something along the lines of: “Marriage is the most sacred of contracts”

Now listed, you two met because of Zhongli/Morax. You were the first minor Goddess who relinquished your divinity to Morax and was left almost with no power, so Morax asked Xiao to take care of you.

And Xiao, being the obedient Yaksha he is, took care of you during the Archon War, and maybe that’s why you survived to such massacre.

As I have stated before, Xiao is bad with his feelings but it is good that you can basically read his emotions.

Your love story was a very, agonizingly slow burn, however when Xiao understood that you were never going to leave him, that you loved him and there was no way to change that, only then he gave up trying to get away from you… and he asked you to marry him.

For hundreds of years, Xiao called you his wife only when you two were alone. For him it was a term of endearment.

“Wife” oh, he says it with such softness and love, it makes you fall for him again! You don’t even mind that your marriage is practically a secret.

But there’s always a first time for everything. And the first time he called you his wife in public… It was something else. It wasn’t something born from his love and devotion, it was a warning.

For what felt like years he had endured listening to men flirt with you in Wangshu Inn. Every god damn male seemed to have the goal of stealing you from him. There were some female humans trying to catch your attention, but they were more subtle, smarter.

There was a man who pretended to be interested in your life as an adventurer, asking questions all the time.There was another who tried to catch your attention with food. There was a woman who wanted to take pictures of you and always told you, you were perfect. The worst one, was the one who tried to teach you martial arts.

You only accepted out of pure pressure, since he insisted so much. You were already an excellent fighter, only that you used a weapon of your choice.

The worst part was that he always corrected you, pressing his palm in your abdomen or your lower back.

Xiao usually didn’t pay attention since he didn’t felt jealous, he only peaked since you were making that little sound of annoyance you always did. That small “mhhh” 

When he saw that man putting his hands on your hips to “correct” your already perfect posture, he just lost it.

It wasn’t just his anger and frustration, that was his karmic debt taking control. In a second Primordial Jade Winged-Spear was in his hands and he attacked blindly. 

The man let go of you and tried to be a hero, only to be hit and cut by Xiao. Let’s be sincere, if it weren’t for you the “martial art master” would be dead, because Xiao is extremely strong.

Anyway, you fought your dear husband and pinned him to the ground until he calmed down. The “martial art master” ran away half beaten, forgetting about you.

Let’s just say, no one has flirted with you since that day. 

[grugruel]

Let the Light in

Pairing: priest!Bucky x f!reader

MDNI/NSFW

Masterlist

Summary: On the day of your wedding, you excpect to love your husband, not fall for the priest.

You'd never been a believer. But when your marrige spiraled into darkness, you had to find light elsewere. So you asked the Lord for help, and He answered.

Ironically enough, He gave you a most devout follower, the priest.

Word count: ca 4k

Warnings: fluff, angst, blasphemy, soft!priest!bucky, pinv sex, oral sex (f receiving), passionate sex, fingering, thigh-riding, adultry, praise (m receiving), priest kink.

AN: its been proof read! I dont understand how yall read it before the fact, my misspellings were crazy. I also edited it a bit, gave yall about 200-300 words more.

I stod silently on the sidewalk, with my back to the road. Numbly observing the scene in front of me as I waited. Cars were rushing past behind me, slowing as they noticed the crowd.

The chilly autumn winds blew my coat off of my stocking clad legs, revealing them to the elements. I couldnt be bothered to care.

The cold did not affect me anymore, I was strung out on feeling.

I watched my husband struggle, and the guests scramble to help him. They got him on his feet, and his best man slung an arm around him to keep him from falling again. My eyes brimmed with tears, ready to fall any second now.

I felt a hand touch the small of my back in silent support. A palm pressed firmly into the arch below, fingertips curling, rouching the fabric of my dress. I closed my eyes and all my troubles were wisked away for but a second, until I heard the guests approach and the hand left me. I opened my eyes to a grim sight.

We met in college, my husband and I. He'd been lovely and attentive when we first met, he made me fall in love with him. He proposed to me on our graduation, and i'd never been happier.

Unfortunately though, it didnt last that long.

As we were fresh out of school, both with stellar scores and brand new degrees. We got our dream jobs, and bought ourselves our dream home.

Everything was perfect, until he got fired. Why? He wouldnt tell me, he left me in the dark, refusing to tell me himself.

Naturally, I grew suspicious.

So I called his former boss, who told me that they'd caught him with his secretary bent over his desk. They said he'd gotten a reputation within his business and would be experiencing difficulties in finding a new job for himself. My crying increased gradually through out the call, this was the first time hed let me down after all. His boss was very apologetic and so was my fiancé.

He found me sat on the floor with phone in hand, a complete mess of tears and running mascara. Immedietly showing worry, 'Whats going on, whats happened?' He asked, thinking somebody died. But when I glared at him, repaying his silence with my own, he understood. He stuttered an apology, his words a flurry of explanations and sorrys, sounding truly regretful.

So I forgave him, silly me.

With time, bitterness manifested within him. Resentment over the fact that I was well liked and did good work at my own job. It led him down a pityfull path, finding solace in alcohol, resentment turning into lousey drunkeness. I should've left him, but chose to forgive him. I loved him, despite all.

Eventually he found a new job, nowehere near the prestige of his old one. But it calmed his drinking.

When he sobered slightly, he apologized continously. Telling me he promised to get better and told me he wanted to have our ceremony, because I deserved it. Foolishly, I belived him. He stayed sober several weeks before the wedding, and I thought it could be a new start.

But here we are now.

I stood behind the doors of the nave, inhaling and exhaling big shaky breaths, trying to gather strength for what I was about to throw myself into.

The priest, father Barnes. The one who would be marrying us, came to me before I walked down the aisle.

'Miss.' He began, his eyes pleading as he took my hands into his, 'Its now my place, I know. But your betrothed-'

'Youre right, its not.' I cut him off, the idea of discussing my fiancés indiscretions with the priest was not appealing. 'I apologize father.' I sighed and met his eyes, 'Hes drunk isnt he?'

The priest tilted his head to the side, realising I was already well aquainted with the vice, 'Well, yes. . .' He said, sounding apologetic.

I nodded my head, deep in thought, 'Alright, lets not waste anymore time then.'

'You're still going ahead with the wedding?' He asked me, an incredulous expression shaping his face.

I looked down, studying the intricate details of my wedding dress. Id picked it myself, my favourite flowers covered it. That man of mine doesnt know my favourite in anything, nor would he notice them on my dress.

A melancholic smile covered my lips, 'You must think me foolish father.' I whispered under my breath, chuckling quietly.

He shook his head and moved one of his hands to my chin, tilting my face to meet his. The other grabbed my hands, and squeezed them, 'I think youre strong.' He told me, a reassuring smile on his lips.

'He promised me he would get better.' My voice was meak, a tear streaking my face.

'You're a good woman.' He breathed, letting go of my hands to cup my face. He leveled his head with mine, his tall stature forcing him to hunch as his eyes locked with mine, 'Too, good.' He whispered, 'And, Its not my business, thats true. . .' Another tear fell, and he gently stroked it away with his thumb, 'But he does not deserve your kindness.'

My cheeks burned hot, a blush crept up my face. I had not heard such kind words in a long time. I could not controll my crying any longer, unstoppable tears came rolling down my cheeks, 'I have to believe him, father, I have to try.' I told him quietly, hating how desperate my voice sounded.

'I love him.'

He cringed at the words, furrowing his brows 'I admire your devotion.' He said gently, 'Do you want more time? Im sure we can wait a little longer.' He tried, but I shook my head.

'No, I dont want to keep the guests waiting.' I took a deep breath, 'Do I look ok?' I asked him.

He nodded, but pulled the cuff over his hand and dabbed my cheeks dry.

His eyes flickered over my face, studying my features, my wet eyes and rosy cheeks. He leaned in, kissed my cheek and whispered 'Angelic.' His hands fell to my bare shoulders and gave them a reassuring squeeze.

He turned around and as he was about the leave I grabbed hold of his wrist, carefully tugging him back. He faced me and I let go of him realising that perhaps it wasnt appropriate of me. 'I just-' I began, but my voice broke. He met my eyes and pulled me into his embrace, 'Thank you, father.' I whispered against his chest.

He rested his head on your shoulder and rubbed your back gently, holding onto the fabric of your dress, rubbing it between his fingers. Studying the beautiful pattern. He slid his hands up your arms, feeling a sudden urge to kiss the bare skin beneath him. He pulled back hastily, clearing his throat as he silently rebuked himself.

'I must take my place dear.' He said, stroking a piece of hair behind my ear. He gave me a last smile, then left, taking his place by the altar.

I heard the music starting and the muffled sound of the crowd standing up. I sighed, steadied my breathing, and opened the doors to the nave. Everyone turned around, looking at me. Whispers rumbled through the crowd as I began walking, their stares were making me nervous.

Through the gloom of the church, light shone through the windows at the altar. I looked at him for comfort, handsome as he was, I met his eyes and found it within them.

He could not tear his eyes from you, you were the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen, courageous and proud, you walked down the aisle. When your eyes met his, he smiled proudly. Hoping you would find some comfort in it, and you found it.

As I approached the altar, I tore my eyes from his and looked at my fiancé. His best man holding him upright, otherwise slumping over. He smiled sloppily at me, I gave him a strained smile back.

The ceremony was over quickly, my husband stumbled through his vows and his kiss tasted of smoke and whiskey. In fact, the entirety of him was drenched in the odor.

I smiled and thanked everyone as they congratulted us, and carefully, tiptoed around the subject of my husband.

I hurried to change into my reception dress, it was all black. Black coat, dress, heels and stockings. Fitting, I thought. As this felt more like a funeral than a wedding, burrying the woman I once was.

People were drinking, laughing and dancing. The reception was doing a wonderful job of keeping everyone cheery, everyone except me. I sat silently by our table, watching my husband as he kept drinking and his men trying to calm him down. He had barely spoken a word to me, he was to drunk to stand, to drunk to have our first dance. I felt myself sinking into oblivion as my polite smiles and thank yous were running out.

But someone approched me, snapping me out of the darkness. I looked up, and the light returned.

He reached his hand out to me, 'May I have this dance?' He asked, his white collar stark against his black shirt.

'You may.' I smiled, the first genuine smile I'd given anyone since the night begun.

I laid my hand in his and he led me to the edge of the dance floor, somewhere we could be at peace. In our dark colors we went unseen, tucked away from prying eyes.

I snaked my arms around his neck and his arms circled my waist, pulling me tightly against him. A bit unorthodox perhaps. But I didnt mind and neither did he, it seemed. I leaned my head against him as we swayed to the music, basking in eachothers prescence.

He sensed that you werent interested in talking, but rather needed a shoulder to lean on. Someone to hold you up, as your ungrateful husband couldnt even do that for himself.

For several songs, we just held eachother. Until the evening began winding down and we had to depart.

'I think this was a mistake.' He whispered.

'Which part?' I asked, and he sighed.

'Dont hesitate to come to me if you need anyhting.' He said quietly, 'Please.' he pleaded. I nodded, thinking id never take him up on his offer.

Now, I stood on the street. Still feeling the priests hand on my back although he'd already taken a few secure steps back.

I watched as my husband being carried to our car, as we were headed for our honeymoon. Two weeks in rome, I wish I could truthfully say I was excited. They shoved him into the back, and once again congratulated us with cheapish smiles. I walked around the car and opened the door, about to sit down when a hand slid into mine. I looked up and my eyes met his beautiful blues once again. He assisted me into the car, lending me his strong arm for support as I sat down. His hand slid out of mine, and a note was left in my palm, reflexicely I closed my hand around it. 'Anything.' He whispered and backed away, closing the door gently.

Our car drove off as the guests were waving us of, but all I could think about was the priest disappearing in the distance.

I opened the note, written down was his number and adress along with a few intricately drawn flowers.

I smiled to myself, quickly stashing it away in my pocket, afraid my husband would see. But as I looked at him, I realised. He was dead asleep, snoring even.

I opened my hand, tracing my fingertips along my palm. Trying to recreate the feeling of his hand in mine, his gentle, yet firm touch on my skin. I sighed, feeling my tears returning.

I cried silently, afraid to wake him. The driver looked at me through his rearview mirror, I met his eyes and quickly averted my gaze, crying even harder, but I couldnt even do that in peace. God, what had I done. I leaned my head against the seat, closing my eyes. When suddenly, I felt fingers on my knee. I shut my eyes harder, begging for it to be my imagination. But it wasnt.

'My, beautiful wife.' He drawled, tracing a finger along my jaw as his hand slid up my thigh. He sat forward, leaning towrd the drivers compartment and shut the hatch.

I opened my eyes and faced him, 'Aw, crying of joy sweetheart?' He asked, he was so delusional it was scary. I nodded, and feigned a smile which he returned lazily, then leaned in to kissed me.

I closed my eyes again, canceling out the taste and smell of liqour, shutting my ears to his voice.

And when his finger reached under my dress, It no longer felt like him. My husbands face was no longer my husbands, his voice and touch was someone elses.

All of a sudden my core was aching for more.

His kisses on my skin felt like heaven, his touch like fire and when he pulled me on top of him. I opened my eyes, and was met with blue, black and white.

Weeks went by and my thoughts never left father Barnes, whenever my husband made love to me, I made love to a priest.

Eventually his drinking subdued and he started taking care of himself, but grew more distant by the day.

It did actually make my existence bareable.

But there came a day, when I got home from work early and things were not as they should. The were heels in the doorway and clothes strewn on the floor. As I followed their trail, I found my husband and his secretary at the end of them. Naked, sweaty and monaing, in our bed, in our home. I was quiet, lost for words, but they mustve noticed my presence.

Because they stopped and threw the sheets over themselves, covering up. 'Sweetheart, its not what it seems.' He managed, struggling to clme up with an excuse. God, the stumache on that man. I felt like screaming, like cursing him and his entire bloodline. But he wasnt worth it.

I turned on my heel and he scrambled out of bed, dragging the sheet with him as he followed me out of the house, apologizing prefusely.

I shut him out, rage filling me as I got in my car and drove away. I drove to the only adress that came to mind.

I walked up to his house and knocked on the door, a few moments passed and he opened.

With wide eyes he looked at me, unable to hide his surpise. 'I uhm, I-' I stammered, my own surpise catching up to me. I hadnt had time to think this through, I acted on pure instinct. 'He cheated on me.' I got the words out, finally taking a breath as I finally understood their meaning. Misery overtook my rage, and my eyes welled as I tried to explain myself. 'I apologize for barging in on you father.' I started, 'Ive been thinking about you and I-' rambling, all my thoughts and feelings poured out of me. In the doorway of this poor mans home.

He reached out to me and pulled me into a hug, backing away from the door and let it fall shut behind me. He rested his head on top of mine as one of his hands held my head against his chest, stroking my hair. The warmth of his home embracing me.

'Can I confess something father?' I asked him as I laid my arms around him, much like our dance a few weeks ago.

'Anything.' He answered, kissing the top of my head.

'Ive sinned.'

He pulled back with a confused look on his face, but didnt let go. 'Lets hear it.' He ordered patiently.

'Ive. . . Been thinking of another man.' I whispered, looking deep into his eyes. 'During actions that should only take place between husband and wife.' I told him quietly, and his face grew pale. 'Ive had an emotional affair with this man, unbeknownst to him.' My breathing turned heavy, as my gaze switched to his lips, 'But, me and this man. Were both bound by vows you see.' I said and let go of him, understanding my words as I said them, and stepped back. Suddenly regretting coming here, as I felt rejection was imminent. 'Mine are already broken, but his are not and he cannot break them. He would not.'

'You should let the man speak for himself.' He said, serious in tone. His gaze locked in on me, as he stepped closer. 'I havent been able to stop thinking about you, no matter how hard I've tried.' He whispered, laying his hands on my hips. 'Ive never seen a woman so beautiful walking down the aisle, god himself mustve blessed you.' I snaked my hands around his shoulders, burrying them in his hair. 'Im hoping he would bless us, too.' Leaning in, his lips were a ghost over mine. 'I would care for you, in a way your husband never could. He does not deserve you.' He leaned his forehead agagaist mine, 'I'd work everyday to deserve your love, your kindness, your presence.' He said quietly against my lips, planting a gentle kiss on them and pulling back slightly to give me room. But I chased his lips, returning the kiss feverishly. Grabbing a fistful of his hair as I pulled him impossibly closer. His hands roamed my back, reaching under my shirt to undo my bra. It fell to the floor and he pulled my shirt over my head in one quick motion, making me gasp.

I removed the collar of his shirt with my teeth and ripped his black shirt open, burrying my head in the crook of his neck, 'Youre not a beginner, are you father? I asked, between kisses. Breathing heavily as I latched onto his skin, sucking at the sweet spot between his neck and collarbone.

He moaned, a smirk shaping his lips, 'Saints also sin from time to time.' he breathed, his hands falling to my ass and lifted me into his arms. I chuckled, letting go of his neck and circled my legs around his hips. I pushed my bare breasts against him and he burried his face in them, in turns taking them into his mouth. 'Where?' His voice came muffled by my skin.

'Everywhere.' I answered.

I could feel his grin against my skin, as he nipped my nipple with his teeth, making me yelp. He walked us toward his bedroom, and laid me down on his bed. He stood back, studying me as he took his shirt and pants off. I unbuttoned my own pants and shimmied out of them, raising myself onto my elbows, watching him as he took me in. His eyes roamed my body, thighs, hips, stumache, breasts. He loved all of me, 'Youre perfect.' He said, lust in his eyes as he climbed on top of me. 'I need you.' He whispered.

'You'll have me.' I told him and flipped him over. Positioning him against the headboard as I stradled his thigh, grinning wickedly and leaned forward, kissing his jaw. 'But first-' I whispered against his ear, 'I want to test your self control.' He looked confused, and I began grinding my clit against his thigh, a whimper escaping me. His hands flew to my hips to help me along, but I grabbed them and led them up to the headboard. I leveled my face with his, ghosting my lips over his as I had him hold onto the board, 'No touching.' I whispered and pecked his lips. I leaned back and my grinding resumed, I grabbed his thighs for support as the heat from the friction was making me swoon. I leaned my head back, biting my lip from the pleasure and when I looked back at him, he was holding onto the board for dear life. The muscles in his arms and jaw clenching as he fought himself to stay still, his eyes were running up and down my body.

The way your hips swayed and breasts bounced, it was sucking all the restraint out of him. His hands were itching to touch you, to just feel your skin under his fingertips for a moment. It would keep him fed for the rest of his life.

I hummed, 'Im- im gonna-' I stammered, my breaths frenzied as I was closing in on my orgasm. The crazy in his eyes made me smile devilishly, I felt evil, in the best way. My hips stuttered against his thigh, my ruts becoming faster and shorter as I was approaching my release. When I looked at him, his eyes were pleading, begging for permission, but it was to late. I rushed over the edge in a second, collapsing onto him, panting hard as I was catching my breath.

'May I?' He asked, his voice strained.

I kissed his chest and answered, 'Yes, please. You did so good.' He grunted at the praise, surprising me. He grabbed my ribs and threw me under him, hurridly kissing his way down my body until he reached my thighs. Spreading them, he kissed his way up the inside until he reached my panties. Without a second thought he ripped them apart and burried his face in my cunt. Tasting me, licking my juices, sliding his tongue through my folds and kissing my clit. A string of curses fell from my lips, as he pushed a finger inside of me, carefully sliding it in and out. Then adding another, and eventually a third, he thrusted them into me, my moaning telling him he was on the right track. He curled them into my spot and I nearly screamed.

'Just like that, good job.' I breathed and he moaned against my clit. What fun. He reached into his boxers and stroked himself, the sight made me mad. And for the second time, I came tumbling over the edge. He was not far behind, coming into his own hand, drenching himself in his seed. I grabbed his arm and pulled his hand closer to me, licking a stripe of his hand. He grunted at the sight, spurring me on as I took his fingers into my mouth. Sucking him clean as he watched, furrowing his brows, he became plagued by lust.

I pulled him closer to me, meeting his lips in another kiss as he pulled off his boxers. I reached down, stroking him as I lined him up with my entrance, 'You did such a good job, father.' His head perked at the praise, like a puppy being told hes a good boy. Gratefully pecking my face, cheek, chin and jaw, below my ear and neck. He put his weight on me, we couldnt possibly get any closer to one another. 'I need you in me father.' I told him bluntly, and leveled his head with mine, sliding inside. Kissing me mean while and I moaned into his mouth, sharing my breath with him. I laid my hands on his hips, telling him to move by pulling and pushing. Helping him set a gentle but firm pace, he lowered his head to the crook of my neck, his breath hot against my skin. 'Let me hear you father, dont hold back.' I whispered and appreciatively he grunted against my skin, moaning in my ear. It was fiendish, it was fantastic. 'Deeper, please.' I asked, pulling on his hips to drive him deeper and using the weight of his entire body he thrusted into me, in rythm with his grunts as our bodiess moved together.

'Tell me im good, please.' He begged, nuzzling his face into my neck.

I smiled, 'Youre being so good for me father.' I whispered into his hair.

'Thank you.' He whimpered, putting even more force to his thrusts as he traced my collarbone with kisses, all the way to my shoulder, repeating "Thank you." Over and over again inbetween his kisses. His thrusts were coming faster as he was closing in on his orgasm, driving me over the edge with him. 'I- im- im close.' He stuttered faintly.

'So am I, almost there father.' His pace hastened as his hand slithered between our bodies, finding my clit and circled it. 'God' I moaned, spots specking my vision as the priests thrusts became frenzied. He pinched my skin in warning, reminding me not to take the lords name in vain. Then we came together, and he collapsed on top of me.

'Im sorry for swearing, father. You bring it out of me.' I whispered.

He chuckled, 'Youre forgiven.' Throughout the night, we made love on the couch, the floor, the kitchen table and shower.

Eventually, we got back into bed. Holding eachother tightly as we drifted off to sleep.

When I woke up late the next day, there was a vase of flowers on the bedside table with a note under it, the letter "-B" was written on it.

I unfolded it and he had written me a message, "I had to go to church, but didnt want to wake you. I hope on seeing you later, please stay if you want to. Id love to come home to you. -PS, Your favourites."

I smiled happily and smelled the bouqet of tulips, a soft, warm feeling spreading throughout my body.

For a long time love had felt dark to me, it had felt cold and lonely, but now. . .

I had let the light in, he was my light.

[sourcherryandsprinkles]

Helloo how are you? Can you write Jacaerys Velaryon and the female Snow reader? The reader may be Cregan's (older or not) sister. Thank you in advance 🌸

I started this one when the first images of Jacaerys from season 2 came out... I apologize for taking so long, but it's 3.5k words, so it should make up for the wait

Warnings: nudity (skinny dipping), implied cheating

my taglists are here + you can send requests here at any time

—

The visit of a prince in the North was unusual, but necessary. The new-crowned Queen needed to know if the Lord of Winterfell — Cregan Stark — was supporting her claim. So, she sent her eldest son, Jacaerys, as messenger. 

Without surprise, the northmen were a little shaken when they saw the prince arriving on Vermax. Most of them had never seen a dragon. Some were afraid, others intrigued by the ‘large beast’, as they called it. The name made Jacaerys laugh. Vermax was nothing to be scared of in size, there were much bigger dragons. 

Ones they should be scared of.

The day of his arrival, Cregan kindly showed the prince around Winterfell — the courtyards, the horses. However, the visit ended rather quickly as he noticed Jacaerys was getting cold walking around in his riding clothes. The leather was thick enough to keep him warm through the winds when on dragonback, but not for the dry cold and snow. 

‘’Let’s continue the visit in the morrow,’’ Cregan suggested. ‘’We have a chamber prepared for you. I imagine you would like to retire and warm up before we gather for dinner. I hope you like boar. My men and I hunted this one only days ago. It’s not everyday a prince graces us with his presence!’’

Jacaerys nodded appreciatively, trying to suppress his shivers. ‘’Thank you, Lord Stark. I will let the Queen know of your warm welcome when I return.’’ 

Cregan chuckled. ‘’Speaking of warmth. I’ll have someone bring you warmer clothes — a cloak and gloves — to your chamber so you won’t lose a finger or two during your stay.’’ 

‘’That’s very kind of you,’’ the prince replied, smiling at Cregan’s humor. His breath formed small clouds in the cold air as he spoke. 

The Nortman walked him to his chamber, then left Jacaerys to himself. Looking around the room, he noticed how small and dark it was compared to the ones at the Red Keep or on Dragonstone. There was a large hearth already ablaze with a roaring fire, and the bed was draped in thick furs, promising a warm night’s rest. 

Before he could sit by the fire to catch some warmth, there was a knock at the door. 

It must be the clothes Cregan offered for him. 

‘’Come in!’’ 

The door creaked open, and you stepped in, the heavy wooden frame groaning in protest. The warmth of the fire hit you as you entered the chamber, holding a dark cloak lined with a fur collar. ‘’Prince Jacaerys,’’ you greeted, dipping your head respectfully. ‘’Here are the clothes my brother promised you.’’ 

Jacaerys turned, surprise flickering across his face. Brother? He didn’t know Lord Cregan had a sister.

He thanked you and took the clothes from you, your fingers brushing slightly, then set them down on the bed behind him. He’ll look at them later. 

‘’How do you like Winterfell so far?’’ you asked, trying to make conversation, and mask the sudden flush on your cheeks. You couldn’t deny, the prince was handsome. He also didn’t look much like a Targaryen with his dark curls and eyes, but you didn’t comment on that. 

‘’I have never seen snow before,’’ he admitted, glancing towards the frost-covered window. 

You chuckled softly, his answer common from someone from the south. ‘’It must be cold up there for a boy of the south.’’ 

Jacaerys nodded, rubbing his hands together. ‘’Dragons don’t like the cold.’’ 

‘’I heard my brother has planned a visit to the Wall. I suggest you double up on the layers and wear knit under your clothes,’’ you advised.

The fire crackled in the hearth, echoing in the small room, slowly warming up Jacaerys. He forced a smile, honestly not looking forward to this trip to the wall. To an even colder climate. ‘’I appreciate the advice. I'll make sure to stay warm.’’

‘’Don’t be afraid to ask for more. We wouldn’t like to be held responsible for a prince’s frostbites.’’

*

During dinner, politics were not discussed. Instead, Cregan bragged about the boar you were eating, which he himself hunted a couple of days ago. 

‘’Have you ever been hunting, Prince Jacaerys?’’ 

Jacaerys shook his head. He heard of the royal hunt, but never participated himself. He found it barbarous. ‘’I have not, Lord Stark,’’ he replied, his voice steady but polite. 

He didn’t want to sound privileged, but all meat was bought and brought to Dragonstone. There was no need to learn how to hunt when you were born in royalty. 

Cregan raised an eyebrow. ‘’All men should know how to hunt!’’ he stated firmly, slapping the table for emphasis. ‘’My father took me on my first boar hunt at fourteen. There's something primal about the hunt. The chase, the kill...it's in our blood. It’s part of becoming a man.’’

Jacaerys paused, taking a sip of his wine. ‘’We don’t hunt in the south, but my father taught me how to wield a sword.’’

*

On his first night, sleep turned out to be difficult to find. Jacaerys tossed and turned under the soft fur blankets, the crackling fire nearby providing warmth but no comfort. Frustrated, he slipped out of his bed, deciding that a walk might help clear his restless mind.

As he wandered through the quiet corridors of the castle, the cool night air coming through the windows brushing against his skin, he noticed someone else up and about, leaning against the banister. Jacaerys assumed it was a woman working for the Starks — a maid, perhaps —, but as he got closer, he recognized you. 

‘’Couldn't sleep either?’’ Jacaerys asked, his voice cutting through the silence of the night.

You jumped, pulling your cloak tighter around you. ‘’Prince Jacaerys.’’ Your heart was beating fast in your chest, startled by the prince. No one was ever up at this hour of the night. 

‘’I apologize, Miss Stark. I did not mean to scare you.’’ 

‘’All is well,’’ you assured, offering a small smile. ‘’Is the bed not comfortable enough for a prince?’’

Jacaerys shook his head. ‘’Nothing wrong with the bed, sleep just won't come,’’ he said, rubbing the back of his neck. ‘’You have not answered my question?’’ 

You exhaled a deep breath and sat on the bench overlooking the courtyard. ‘’Too much on my mind.’’

Jacaerys joined you on the bench, the cool night air brushing against your faces as you asked him about Vermax. You had seen him flying over the hills a few minutes ago, but had since gone to sleep somewhere close to the castle. Your curiosity surprised Jacaerys, but he was happy to tell you all about Vermax. How he hatched, how they bonded, and even his first ever ride. 

‘’Just because my parents are dragon riders doesn’t mean I wasn’t terrified on my first flight. Trust is important when riding a dragon. There are possibilities of falling off and dying. But I trusted Vermax,’’ Jacaerys explained.

You could sense the bond between him and Vermax was more than just rider and dragon. It was a deep, unspoken connection.

‘’How does it feel like?’’ 

Jacaerys' face brightened. ‘’Nothing compares to the feeling of riding a dragon. The sky is the best place in the world. It's a thrill and freeing at the same time. I could take you on a ride before I return to Dragonstone,’’ he suggested, a playful glint in his eyes. ‘’If you desire.’’

‘’I’ll hold you to that.’’ 

*

In the morning, Cregan Stark took Jacaerys on a full tour of Winterfell, showing him every corner of his ancestral home. They started with the horse stables, where the horses nickered softly in their stalls, then moved to the godswood, the ancient heart tree standing solemn and silent. They explored the crypt, with its long lines of statues of the Stark ancestors, before finally arriving in the courtyard.

As they walked into the courtyard, Jacaerys saw you sparring with one of the trainers of the castle guard. He paused, taken aback by the fluidity and force of your movements. He had never seen a woman wield a sword with such skill and confidence. Your strikes were precise, each motion flowing seamlessly into the next, and the determination in your eyes was unmistakable.

‘’My sister was born holding a sword,’’ Cregan said with amusement, following Jacaerys’ line of sight. ‘’She is more skilled than some of our knights in training.’’ 

A smile curled on the prince’s lips, watching you with amazement. His uncle Aemond would eat dirt if he were to duel with you in a tourney.

Cregan snapped Jacaerys from his staring. ‘’Ready for some training?’’ he asked, a playful challenge in his eyes as he took out his sword from his belt. ‘’Let’s see if Leanor Velaryon taught you well.’’ 

When he said his father taught him to wield a sword, Jacaerys meant Harwin Strong, not Leanor. But correcting Cregan would feed the bastard rumors about him and his brothers, so he kept his mouth shut. 

*

The following day was the dreaded visit to the Wall. Although the place sounded fascinating, Jacaerys was not looking forward to colder weather. He doubled on the layers as you advised him, and got on horseback with Cregan and a small group of men. They should be back in three days. 

As always, Winterfell would be in your charge during Cregan’s absence. 

‘’Is Vermax going to the Wall?’’ you asked, noticing Jacaerys struggling to secure his bag to the saddle.

‘’Yes. He will follow us. I could never leave Vermax behind. He goes wherever I go,’’ Jacaerys said, watching your smaller fingers deftly tie a knot to secure everything. ‘’Thank you for the help, Miss Stark.’’ His eyes lingered on yours for a moment longer than necessary.

‘’Your welcome, Prince Jacaerys.’’ 

Everyone got on their horses, ready to leave. 

As Cregan ordered the gates to be opened, Jacaerys looked down at you, his breath visible in the chilly air. ‘’I hope it is not as cold as you made it sound.’’

‘’Have a safe travel,’’ you wished, your eyes meeting his. "And never take your gloves off outside. You’ll lose a finger."

Jacaerys chuckled softly, a playful glint in his eye. "I'll try to remember," he said, before nudging his horse forward, leaving you with a lingering smile as they rode off.

*

Although you enjoyed being in charge of Winterfell, you counted the days until the men would return from the Wall. It had been difficult admitting it to yourself, but you had fallen for the prince’s charm and were impatient to see a green and red dragon in the sky.

He had promised to take you on a ride before leaving the North, and you will be holding him up to that when he returns from the wall. You had seen him talk to a few of the women around Winterfell, but Jacaerys hadn’t offered anyone else a dragon ride. Only you. It made you feel a little special.

Every time you passed the banister where you had spoken that night, you could almost hear his laughter and feel the warmth of his presence. The anticipation of seeing him again was a constant flutter in your chest.

You wondered if he thought of you while he was away.

Your question was answered when he seeked for you after lunch. You had been getting ready to train in the courtyard when you heard a knock on your door. Jacaerys had a nervous smile on his face, silently praying you would still be on board with that dragon ride. 

‘’How was Castle Black?’’ 

‘’Nothing like I expected. The Wall is very impressive. I have never seen anything this tall before.’’ 

‘’It was built by Brandon the Builder of House Stark about 800 years ago, with assistance from Giants,’’ you said, proud of your family history. ‘’But Cregan has probably already told you all about the Wall…’’ 

He had, but Jacaerys didn’t mind hearing it all again from you. 

Dragons were impressive when you were standing next to them. Very impressive. 

You stayed behind as Jacaerys approached Vermax, speaking to him in High Valyrian as it was the language used to train and command dragons. A small bubble of fear rose within you, knowing dragons only allowed their riders to get close. Would Vermax try to kill you if you got too near?

‘’Come,’’ Jacaerys encouraged, extending his hand to you. ‘’He won’t hurt you.’’ He was standing by Vermax’s face, introducing him to you. ‘’He’s been eating less since we arrived. It’s his way of saying he is unhappy. I don’t know if you have noticed, but Vermax doesn’t like the North. Dragons can tolerate the cold, but they prefer warm temperatures.’’

Jacaerys’s hand rested over yours as you gently touched Vermax's scaly skin. ‘’I apologize for our cold weather, Vermax,’’ you said, your voice soft as you addressed the dragon. 

Vermax’s eyes, large and intense, regarded you with a curious intelligence. You felt a shiver run down your spine, but not from the cold. Jacaerys’s reassuring presence gave you the courage to stand your ground. You trusted that he wouldn’t let anything happen to you. 

‘’He’s magnificent,’’ you whispered, marveling at the dragon's sheer size and power.

With a confident gesture, Jacaerys climbed onto Vermax’s back, then extended his hand to help you up. You settled in behind him, and he placed your hands securely around his middle. 

‘’Hold on tight,’’ he said, his own hands gripping the handles of the saddle as Vermax spread his massive wings. 

With a powerful leap, the dragon launched into the sky, the ground rapidly falling away beneath you. The cold wind whipped past, making you cling onto the prince. 

As Vermax soared higher, the place you always called home transformed into a breathtaking panorama of gray stones, snow-covered vales and distant mountains. The exhilaration of flight was overwhelming, filling you with a sense of freedom unlike anything you had ever experienced.

Jacaerys grinned and leaned forward, making Vermax dive as you approached a forest and hover over the trees. His feet brushed the tip of the trees, shaking off the snow covering them, before going up again with a powerful flap of his wings. 

You gasped and held onto Jacaerys tighter, the mix of fear and excitement making your heart race. ‘’Are you trying to make my heart burst?’’ you shouted, laughing despite the rush of adrenaline.

Jacaerys laughed, his voice carried away by the wind. ‘’I’m only giving you a true experience.’’

Vermax continued to glide through the sky, and you savored every moment — the rush of the wind, the closeness of Jacaerys, and the incredible feeling of soaring above the world.

An idea sparked in your mind as the scenery below began to look familiar. ‘’How do we land?’’ you asked. 

‘’Ilagon,’’ Jacaerys commanded, and Vermax dived down again. 

You climbed down from the dragon, your feet sinking into the marshmallow-like softness of the virgin snow. ‘’Follow me,’’ you said, glancing back at Jacaerys.

He was right on your heels as you led him to a cave. He was confused about what you were doing inside a cave, but let you lead the path. You’ve grown in the North, you must know where you were going. Right? 

‘’Where are we going?’’ 

‘’You said dragons don't like the cold.’’ 

The further you ventured inside the cave, the more you began to feel a gentle warmth emanating from deeper within. 

‘’So I’m keeping my prince warm,’’ you teased with a smile. You took another turn and then came to a halt. ‘’After your visit to the Wall, I figured you’d like to warm up.’’ You stepped aside, revealing a hidden hot spring, steam rising invitingly from the water.

Jacaerys's eyes widened in surprise and delight. ‘’This is incredible,’’ he said, his voice filled with awe. ‘’How did you know about this place?’’

‘’I got lost a few years ago during a hunt. The snow had turned into a blizzard and I could not find my way back to the campment. I was missing for hours. My father found me and took me here until the blizzard calmed down. My little hands and feet were almost frozen.’’ 

‘’You should not have left campment.’’ 

‘’I was a rebellious child.’’  

Jacaerys shook his head with a smile. 

Without hesitation, you began to undress, unbuckling your cloak and peeling off your gloves. You pulled at the laces of your boots, freeing your feet from their confine, and moved to the front of your dress, loosening the laces until it slipped from your shoulders. That hot water was going to feel amazing on your cold skin. 

‘’You need to undress before getting in the water, you know?’’ you teased, your eyes flickering to Jacaerys and seeing him still dressed.  

His cheeks flushed slightly. ‘’Yeah, I… I’ll…’’  

Slowly, he began to undress, his movements a bit tentative. His cloak fell to the ground along with his riding jacket and undershirt. You couldn't help but find his shyness endearing. 

You continued with your dress and socks, until you stood bare in the soft glow of the cave. As you waited for Jacaerys to finish undressing, you found yourself peaking at his smooth and slightly defined chest. You wanted to feel it pressed against you.

Before you could second-guess yourself, you stepped into the hot spring, the water swirling around from your movement. The spring was deeper than you expected, and soon the warm water was enveloping your breasts and shoulders. The heat was intense at first, almost too hot, but it felt incredible compared to the biting cold of the North. You were used to the cold, but it didn’t mean it wasn’t cold. 

You let out a sigh of relief. The steaming water was blissful after being hit in the face by the cold air during the ride. 

You glanced back at Jacaerys, who was finishing undressing, his bouncy curls moving around as he pulled off his socks. His back was to you, giving you a perfect view of his behind. You sank deeper into the water, trying to drown the inappropriate thoughts filling your mind.

‘’Careful, it’s hot,’’ you warned as Jacaerys was about to step in, standing naked at the edge of the spring, the steam rising around him. 

He dismissed your warning and stepped in without a sound. ‘’I have Targaryen blood. We tolerate the heat better than others,’’ Jacaerys said, sinking down until the water covered up to his neck. ‘’This feels amazing. I wish I could come and swim here everyday.’’ He basked in the warm water, closing his eyes as he floated. 

A soft smile grazed your lips. 

The moment of calm was disrupted as Jacaerys swam closer to you, a boyish grin on his face before he splashed water at you. You gasped in shock, and splashed him back, laughing with child-like joy. Ultimately, Jacaerys was the one to give in, raising his arms up to surrender. Your laughter fades away with the wind, leaving you both in a comfortable silence. A silence that didn’t need to be filled, nor did you want it to be. 

The two of you meet in the middle, a flutter of excitement filling your stomach. You felt his leg brush your tibia, the proximity making you acutely aware of your nakedness. The thought of sinking deeper into the water crossed your mind, but the clarity of the spring left little to the imagination. Your supple breasts and hard nipples were visible beneath the surface

‘’Prince Jacaerys?’’ you spoke softly, your voice almost a whisper.

‘’Jace,’’ he corrected gently. ‘’You can call me Jace.’’ He reached out and tucked your wet hair behind your ear with a tenderness that sent shivers down your spine.

You leaned into his touch, a small smile playing on your lips as you nodded. ‘’Jace?’’ 

His gaze dropped to your lips, battling his inner dilemma of kissing you or not. The chemistry between you was undeniable, a magnetic pull that neither of you could resist. Though he was a prince, the heir to the Iron Throne, he was still a boy first, and in this moment, all titles and duties seemed to melt away.

You opened your mouth to speak again, but Jacaerys leaned in, closing the distance, his lips meeting yours in a soft, lingering kiss. You had fantasized about sharing this kiss on more than one occasion while he was away at the Wall. Now, his lips were moving over yours — for real — and your dreams had not done justice to the reality of him. 

The heat of the spring seemed to intensify, wrapping around you as the kiss deepened, a mix of tenderness and passion. His hands caressed every spot of your body he could reach on you, your breasts pressing against his chest as you locked your arms around his neck and shoulders and wrapped your thighs around his waist. 

You pulled back to catch your breaths, and looked at him, admiring him. His hair was slowly getting its curl pattern back, a smile looking back at you. 

Jacaerys doubted that by ‘finding shared interests’ his mother meant falling for Lord Stark’s sister.

—

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[yoru-exe]

『 TOKYO REVENGERS | inui seishu ; matsuno chifuyu ; mitsuya takashi 』

the night is young & time stops when you're with your beloved, so hold them close. nights like this don't come often!

a/n: i miss writing for these silly boys!!

『 INUI SEISHU 』

your boyfriend, for as long as you've known him, is a man of action. he speaks few words, too few even when explanation is due. you understand that he does what he thinks is right, but sometimes you can't help but be left in a state of wonder.

right now, you're experiencing this very conflict as seishu wrapped his scarf around your neck, while his jacket hung loosely on your shoulders. him, on the other hand, was left with only a single layer of shirt. you admitted that your attire wasn't looking appropriate enough to protect you against the weather tonight, expecially for a ride, but surely his action went a little too far.

unfortunately for you, when asked, he simply answered, "you'll get cold", as if that explained everything.

"wouldn't you though?", your brows wrinkled with guilt and concern.

he tilted his head to a side, seemingly thinking, before he shrugged and kissed your forehead, then put your helmet on for you, "i'll be fine. let's go, we'll be late".

the engine of his bike roared to life as soon as he hopped on it. just like that, the topic was dropped. by now, you're used to this behaviour of his, but you always made sure to repay him in a way or another, one he can't refuse.

from your seat behind him, you wrapped your arms tightly around his middle, hoping that the warmth he passed to you flow through your embrace. around you, the street lights fade with the speed, the noise filled your ears. but as you leaned against his back, all that's filling your senses were seishu's lingering scent and the warmth blooming in your heart.

『 MATSUNO CHIFUYU 』

"race me to the top, if you want a kiss", you pointed to the steps leading to musashi shrine, letting go of his hand to get a head start. "hey, not fair!", you heard chifuyu behind you, but from the sound of it, you knew he's following.

as you raced each other, adrenaline filled your system and cold night wind chilled your flustered skin. you laughed in excitement when he cut pass you, "see you at the top, loser!".

challenged, you quickened your pace. unfortunately, you stumbled and fell on the steps, causing searing pain to shot up your body. sitting up, you found that you had sprained your ankle. it was nothing too serious but it'll definitely take ages before you can reach the shrine.

"hey, what's wrong?". you jumped a bit when you heard his voice behind you, cursing at the sight of your injury. "can you move?".

you guiltily shook your head. the race would have to wait for another time. he knelt close to you, motioning you to hope on his back, which you obeyed with a quiet apology.

but instead of going down the flight where you came from, chifuyu made his way up the stairs, halfway there from where you fell. "why-".

"we're gonna make it to the top. i want my kiss", then he turned to look at you with a cocky smirk, "i know you want it too". he started to pick up pace with you on his back held secured in place, "so hang on!".

that night, the stars witnessed chifuyu running with all his might to the top with his love to claim his kiss, just like in the shoujo manga he read.

『 MITSUYA TAKASHI 』

it's strange. everyone loves mitsuya for how reliable he is, almost like the big brother figure to them. he's strong, capable and kind. while you love those qualities of his, there's something else that pulls your heart string stronger than the rest.

he had invited you to grab dinner after making sure luna and mana had gone to bed for the night. a quick ride through familiar road and you found yourself sitted on a table in a convenient store with him enjoying his instant noodle.

there was nothing exactly remarkable that he did, he's just there, munching like a normal human being would while they eat. but there's something special about seeing his cheeks puffing with the food in his mouth. when he licked away the soup at the corner of his lips instead of wiping it away with paper towel, you just can't help but stared with heart eyes.

"you good?", he cocked his brow with a boyish smile on his face. you wanted to kiss him there and then, but it's probably not a good context to start being lovey dovey with him, so you settled for a bashful nod.

from across the table, he nodded in acknowledgement. reaching your hand with his free one, he tried to make a conversation but incidentally talked too fast and choked on his food. you handed him water as you giggled, and he followed after he calmed down.

"what would i do without you?", he smiled guiltily.

mitsuya takashi is ever the steadfast leader of toman's second division, the one people seek for comfort and assistance. but with you, he's just a boy who could lower his guard down and not worry about messing up. it's his trust he places in you to take care of him that makes you fall deeper for him everyday.

[7seas-of-ryy]

I Need You | Part 8

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7

Author’s Note: Thank you all for your patience! I already started part 9 and will hopefully have it for you guys tomorrow <3

Summary: Forgiveness is a big part of healing but it is harder than it seems.

Pairing: Azriel x Reader

Warnings: angst, let me know if I need to add any others :)

As you went to find Azriel, you were stopped by Rhys. He asked if you could come with him to his office to talk and you agreed.

"You seem to be doing better?" Your high lord said, not sure if it was a statement or a question

"Yeah, I just had a talk with Elain and cleared everything up." You told him

"Cleared everything up? You say that as if it was a simple miscommunication. You had one talk and poof," he waved his hands, "you've forgiven her?" he asked

"Rhys, holding onto all of the pain in my heart has been one of the hardest things I've ever been through. Plus, she was never very close to me." you stated

"You don't have to be close with someone to be decent to them. She hurt you and that's not okay." he countered

"Well, you know Elain, she's been through so much-" you started but a sigh from your friend cut you off.

"So have you, stop making excuses for her. Listen, I'm telling you this because I care about you. You are entirely too nice, and you need to start putting yourself first for once. I'm not saying you have to hate her but you need to work through your feelings before letting everyone off the hook." he told you

You understood what he meant, you had been so eager to fix everything. So desperate to make everything normal again that you hadn't been thinking about yourself.

"I love how much you care about us but please stop worrying about our feelings more than your own. We want to be here for you, so let us." He added with a smile

With a new mindset, you got up to go. You had to find Azriel, even if you weren't ready to forgive him you needed answers. As you reached the door, Rhys spoke again.

"One last thing, Azriel has been punishing himself over this more than any of us could. I don't want you to just let him off the hook, but keep that in mind when you talk to him. He knows he messed up." he told you.

With a nod at your High Lord, you went to find Az.

You turned down a hallway and felt a shadow wrap around your wrist and tug you toward the library. It was as if it knew you were looking for it's master.

Azriel was sitting at one of the big chairs made to fit his wings. He looked up and stood as you entered.

"We need to talk. I have so many questions for you and things I need to say. I don't even know where to begin. " you told him

"I do. I owe you a million apologies. I am so sorry I stood you up. I promise I will make it up to you no matter how long it takes. Please tell me if there is anything I can do to make it better." Az pleaded

"All I need right now is answers. Why did you pull away from me? You were my best friend and all of the sudden one day, you weren't." the words you had been wanting to say finally coming out

"I...I don't know." he stuttered

"Bullshit," you said immediately, "I know you, and you wouldn't do that if there wasn't a reason. Did I do something to you?"

"What? No... I just..." Az could barely get any words out.

You stood there looking expectantly at him.

"I love you. No, I'm IN love with you. I'm infatuated with you. You are everything to me and that terrifies me. I let down everyone I love and now I let you down too." the spymaster confessed

Before you would even put a sentence together, he continued.

"I see you in everything that makes me happy, in everything that brings me life. You are in the wind as I fly, in the stars that I stay up and watch at night. You are in every breath that fills my lungs. I've said it before and I will say it again. You are all of the light in my dark life. There is no life worth living without you." His chest was heaving by the end of his words

Your eyes were wide. You wanted to run and embrace him but you were still confused and hurt.

"If all of what you just said is true, then why did you choose Elain over me time and time again?" Tears filled your eyes as you questioned the male.

"I was a fool. A terrified, madly in love fool. For some reason, I never got it right. I pushed all my feelings aside so I wouldn't lose you. I couldn't bare the thought of you not loving me back. Once Elain came along I knew it would be so much easier to keep myself occupied with her. It was stupid and I regret it, you have to believe me." Azriel told you

"I do. But that doesn't make it ok. And you used Elain, that was not fair to her," you sighed and paused, "I suppose I wasn't being fair by blaming you for everything either. Az, I'm upset that you stood me up but what happened to me was not your fault."

He needed to hear that last sentence but for some reason it broke him.

"If I had been there, maybe I could have stopped it" He choked out through tears and fell to his knees in front of you.

You went to him and put both your hands on his face and made him look at you.

"The only person responsible for my pain is the one who tortured me. You had no way of knowing what was going to happen and I am so sorry for making you feel like it was your fault. I was hurt and angry and took it out on you and that wasn't right," You told him, "I mean, don't get me wrong, you still have a lot of groveling to do for standing me up but stop beating yourself up for the rest of it."

"I can grovel, I love groveling. I'll grovel for the rest of my life if I have to." He spoke

"How about we start with being friends again? It'll take some time for me to forgive and trust you but I'm willing to try if you are." You offered

The spymaster was a little hurt at the word 'friends' but he knew he had to prove himself. Hopefully he could show you he would be better and eventually you two could be something more.

For now, he would accept your friendship.

You both hung out for the rest of the day, catching each other up on whatever was going on in your lives. It didn't immediately feel like how it was before but it was comfortable between you two at least. Eventually it was time for dinner and drinks.

Rhys, Cass, Az, Feyre, Nesta and you all ate a lovely dinner together and then the drinks started. Everyone was enjoying themselves.

Cass said we needed to let loose and began dancing, Feyre immediately joining him.

"They're awful dancers." Nesta spoke with a look of horror on her face watching her mate

You giggled and your body felt light. You felt a glimmer of hope as if everything would eventually be alright.

Cassian and Feyre made their way over to where you, Az, Nesta, and Rhys sat. They made a few awful attempts to get the other three to dance. Once they realized those three wouldn't budge, they put all their efforts to you.

"C'mon y/n, I know you want to dance!" Cass spoke, wiggling his body at odd angles toward you. You shook your head no and threw it back in laughter.

"Please! I'd love to dance with a pretty little thing like you!" Feyre shouted.

Rhys, Az, and Nesta all continued laughing at their High Lady's antics while you and Cass froze.

The two of you stared at each other, sobering up at those words. A look of pain took over Cassian's face as he watched you. You felt your throat start to close up as you tried to stop yourself from crying.

"What's going on?" Az asked, jumping up and assessing the room for a threat.

A few moments of silence passed.

"Tassarion called y/n a pretty little thing when he kidnapped us." Cass told the group, the room growing solemn.

"I'm sorry y/n..." Feyre told you

"You couldn't have known," you said, "I'm kind of tired anyways. I think I'm done for the night."

You began the walk up to your room and Cassian grabbed your arm as you walked past him. He was giving you a look and you just nodded and gave him a small smile in return. You didn't need words to know what he meant. He was there for you if you needed him.

Patting his hand that was holding your arm, you continued to your room and he let you go.

The next couple of days went the same. You would feel like it was a good day and then something would happen that would bring you right back to that dungeon. Azriel was always there helping you through it.

He made sure he was there for you every second you needed him and you were grateful. With his and the rest of the inner circle's help, you got through a couple weeks.

You felt your trust for Az growing everyday. He had started training you again and you were feeling stronger everyday.

You were sat in the library, surrounded by books. Working on a few things for Rhys when you realized you hadn't seen Elain since you spoke to her that day. You raised your head from the book to look at Az, who was reading his own book across from you.

"Where has Elain been?" You asked bluntly

"She's been with Lucien and Jurian" He told you

"Oh? What's she doing there?" You asked

Realizing you weren't going to stop until you got answers, he put his book down, "I talked with her and apologized for using her the way I did. She was still upset with me but I told her that I was also upset with her. Y/N, she knew what she was doing that night, trying to keep me from you. And the flowers? I don't care how embarrassed she was, she couldn't even take the time to see you in person? And couldn't bother to write the note herself? Then after all of that and seeing what happened to you, the only reason you both talked was because you went to her. You may be able to forgive her already but I am not." he said

"So you sent her away?" you couldn't believe him

"No, of course not. She decided to go with him. She said she was going to give the mating bond a chance and also give us some space at the same time." Az answered

"Oh" you responded dumbly, not knowing what to say

"I will work for the rest of my life to gain your full trust and forgiveness back. I know how much pain we both caused you, her having one conversation with you does not change anything. I understand and respect that you must forgive her in order to help yourself but I don't have to do any such thing. I hope you will respect my decision." he said

"I do" you told him

A few of his shadows reached out and slowly curled around you. They had been more hesitant since you shooed them away at the table that day. You smiled at them and more came over to you.

You went back to your work with the comfort of the shadows nuzzled into your hair.

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[gffa]

Did you know I’ve probably cried like a dozen times from BATFAMILY fic over the last two weeks? I’m not a big cryer, so that’s saying something for me, by which I mean, I realize I have some incredibly intense feelings about fictional characters, but also fandom is phenomenal about hitting those feelings dead on in exactly the way they mean to do. And it’s great, hell yeah make me cry buckets in emotional catharsis!! And then balance it out with comfort or humor because my soul needs soothing, too! I have been reading so many comics lately (so many good comics, what is this, I’m not used to having comics I actually think are good) and I love the canon so very much, but part of the draw towards this fandom has always been the enthusiastic fic response, the willingness to explore things the comics themselves don’t always have time for, whether aftermath of events or psychological effects that aren’t necessarily intended but are fascinating to consider or just straight up downtime that’s not about a case because fic doesn’t need to make people punch things in every issue. The two go hand in hand for me and getting fun comics to read and fun fic to read has been really meaningful to me in a time when I’ve really needed that in my life. I hope that I can return the favor even a little by shoving a bunch of fics at you and only making you scroll a little to get through my Dick Grayson Problem. BATFAM FIC RECS - BABY DICK IS THE CUTEST FERAL ROBIN I’M NOT HEARING ANY ARGUMENTS: ✦ May Our Memories Light The Way by sElkieNight60, dick & bruce, time travel, 1.9k      Bruce travels into the past and serves up an apology long over-due. ✦ Late Spring by halyordan, dick & bruce & alfred, 3.5k      Dick gets in his first ‘fight’ at school. Luckily, Bruce was an angry boy once. He knows how to deal with it. ✦ the color violet by TheResurrectionist, dick & bruce & cast, 2.6k      The address – 1007 Mountain Drive – told Alex two things: one, their patient was either going to be someone unreasonably wealthy or an unlucky service worker, and two, getting to the actual patient was going to be a bitch. ✦ as i was walkin’ by oh_fudgecakes, dick & bruce & alfred, 3.6k      Bored and chased out of the kitchen by an irate Alfred, a young Dick Grayson falls through a loose floorboard while exploring the attic and ends up in an locked storeroom housing an interesting set of journals. ✦ help me fill this hole in my soul by renecdote, dick & bruce & cast, 5.9k      Dick nearly drowns on patrol one night. He’s fine, except that he really isn’t. Alfred and Bruce take care of him when he gets sick and let him know that even though his parents are gone he isn’t alone. ✦ medio by newsical, dick & bruce & alfred, 2.1k      Loss, again. This loss was by his hand, by his own tongue, with words so sharply edged that they tore apart his mouth and left his lips bloody. The manor was silent, and he was alone. And Alfred’s half birthday was in three days. ✦ My Little Bird (is a Troublemaker) by sElkieNight60, dick & bruce & clark & cast, 10.9k      No, not good enough, thought Bruce as he gripped the boy’s shoulders in his hands. Dick still didn’t move and the man had to resist the violent urge to shake the answer out of him. This wasn’t his little bird. This wasn’t his Robin, he would never do something like this. Dick gets caught drunk, Bruce loses it. ✦ things kept hidden by emavee, dick & bruce & cast, 9.7k      “Better hope the Batman doesn’t catch wind of you. Batman hates metas. He’ll make you disappear. That’s what he does.” “But I’d never hurt anyone,” Dick stammers. He doesn’t know very much about Batman, but he’s a hero, right? He fought crime, like Superman, and Superman was a hero. Right? ✦ (Not) Enough by daringyounggrayson, dick & bruce & alfred, 2.3k      After the training simulation goes wrong, Bruce takes his kid home. ✦ i can’t promise (it’s not written in the stars) by konan_konan, dick & bruce & alfred & cast, 7.3k      Batman is following him, surely, but he’s smaller and faster and he’s not going to let someone take him and lock him up again. Wayne Manor, he’s learned, is just another kind of prison. It may be big and fancy but it is also empty and cold and he’s not going back. Tony Zucco dies tonight, he tells himself. It is the only thing that matters. ✦ what’s needed most by dizarys, dick & bruce & alfred, 1k      Dick wants to fly. Bruce would like that to not involve giving him a heart attack for once. ✦ two sheep counted, but not enough to sleep by batofgoodintent (crownedcrusader), dick & bruce, 1.8k      Dick hasn’t been sleeping. It’s a problem Bruce should have addressed by now. BATFAM FIC RECS - ADULT BATSON AND BATDAD ARE MY KRYPTONITE, I FOLD LIKE WET CARDBOARD FOR THEM: ✦ (At the Very Least), I Can by sElkieNight60, bruce & dick & jason & tim & damian, 3k      “… something is wrong.” That was Bruce’s voice, he would know it anywhere. OR, Dick Grayson + Full Body Paralysis ✦ Catch by sElkieNight60, bruce & dick, 2k      Raptor has Bruce in dire straits. Nightwing catches Bruce as he falls. Then it turns out Bruce never fell at all, he jumped. “Dick. I didn’t fall. I jumped. I jumped because I knew you’d catch me.” Childhood trauma never truly goes away, it seems. OR, the emotional aftermath of “Better than Batman.” ✦ Call Me if You Need Me by LiterallyThePresident, bruce & dick & alfred, 1.1k      “Master Bruce is rather distraught, you see.” and now Alfred sounded pained, “The dose he received was not enough to render him immobile, but it is causing some paranoia and unpleasant hallucinations. He… Well, he appears to be rather convinced that something has happened to you.” BATFAM FIC RECS - EVERYBODY LOVES DICK: ✦ Sons and Fathers by FabulaRasa, dick & bruce & jefferson & dick/babs, 4.9k     Dick has three conversations that needed to be had, at the end of season three. This is blatantly a “there I fixed it” fic. ✦ The Best Medicine by JpegDotJpeg, dick & bruce & jason & tim & damian & alfred & cass, 2.2k      “I’m dying.” “You are not dying.” “This is it. It’s the end for me. I bet I have some exotic viral disease with no known cure and now I’m going to waste away into nothingness.” “I highly doubt that, Master Richard.” ✦ Look to the Stars by Zephyrra, dick & bruce & jason & hal & alfred & cast, lantern!dick, 8.3k      After Batman fires Robin for the last time, Dick becomes a Flying Grayson in an entirely new way: by becoming a Green Lantern. But no matter what kind of mask he dons, Dick Grayson has a way of (accidentally) changing history irrevocably. This is only the beginning. ✦ the courage of stars by theragingstorm, dick & clark/lois & jon & cast, 1.8k      When he really needs somebody, Dick goes to Metropolis. ✦ a great honour (to hold you up) by dizarys, dick & bruce & jason & tim & damian & cass & steph & duke, 2.6k      “For the last time, I’m not getting sick!” Jason and Tim exchanged skeptical looks behind Dick’s back. “You’re pale, shivering, and wince every time your bare skin touches the cold metal desk.” Jason ticked off on grease smeared fingers, “Sounds sick to me.” “Wonderful observations, Holmes.” Dick muttered, still looking through the microscope. “What does Watson have to add?” “That first of all, I’m Sherlock.” said Tim, “And my associate is correct. You should go get some rest.” ✦ i am tired of all these motherfuckin’ bombs on these motherfuckin’ spaceships by konan_konan, dick & bruce & damian & titans & background dick/kory & justice league, 4.5k      “Those generators won’t last long,” barks Batman. “We’re losing our window. What other plan do you propose, Nightwing?” He huffs. “I’m gonna blow up the ship.” or: when the justice league gets stranded in space, the teen titans come to the rescue. it doesn’t exactly go to plan. BATFAM FIC RECS - JASON TODD IS AN ASSHOLE CAT, I’M GONNA THROW HIM AT HIS SIBLINGS BECAUSE IT’S FUNNY: ✦ abyssal plain by glassofwater, dick & jason, 3.5k      “What did you do?” “Exactly what he said. I killed him.” ✦ Bang, bang by Ididloveyou_once, tim & jason & cast, 5.5k      ‘You shot me!’ Jason gasped, stunned, ‘Holy shit, you actually shot me.’ Tim’s eyes widened and he froze. They stared at each other for a second, dumbstruck and then- ‘Don’t tell Bruce.’ ✦ Break the Ice by dizarys, dick & jason, 1.5k      He felt the blades pierce his body. It was at the height of his leap, back arched as he sprang backwards over the car. A bolt of searing hot pain shot through his side then thigh. But Nightwing still landed with grace and flung his escrima sticks straight into two gang members’ heads. BATFAM FIC RECS - DICK AND DAMIAN WERE THE BEST BATMAN & ROBIN, I’M NOT HEARING ARGUMENTS ABOUT THAT EITHER: ✦ Not Quite Saudade by Wisptheraccoon, dick & damian & bruce & jason & tim & alfred & jon, 3.1k      Aka. The reason Dick is no longer allowed to leave on long missions without Damian. ✦ Scorpion-grass by Ididloveyou_once, dick & damian & bruce & tim, 2.9k      Damian gets hit with fear toxin and is forced to relive Dick losing his memories… Dick could’ve gone without knowing how the kid reacted to his amnesia. ✦ what’s waited till tomorrow starts tonight by theragingstorm, dick & damian & john/mary & cast, time travel, 63.4k wip      After an argument with his Batman, Dick Grayson, Damian finds himself in Dick’s past, with one of his greatest tragedies fast approaching and no easy route forward for either. As long as he risks being stuck seventeen years in the past, all he can do is live at the circus, with a family he never knew — and just maybe learn from it all. BATFAM FIC RECS - BATKIDS ALL HAVE MANY SIBLINGS AND THEY’RE ALL PETTY ASSHOLES AND/OR WONDERFUL BABIES AND I LOVE THEM WITH MY WHOLE BEING: ✦ When Wisdom Must Go by AnicomicQueen, bruce & dick & tim, 5.1k      Bruce experiences taking his children to get their wisdom teeth removed. Chapter 1: Dick (Age: 17) Chapter 2: Tim (Age: 16) ✦ So you’ll know where I’ve been by victoria_p (musesfool), jason & steph, 2.1k      “I just noticed your scars.” “We all have—Oh.” Jason drops his gaze again, runs his fingers along the faded incision on the left side of his chest. “No one else has one of these.” ✦ and when you’re in the trenches by dizarys, jason & tim & dick, 4.3k      When Jason stumbles across a shocking discovery, he’s forced to decide how much he truly cares about the people he used to call family. ✦ The Kids Are All Right by Browniesarethebest, bruce & dick & jason & tim & damian & cass & steph & alfred, 11.4k      Dick and Tim are de-aged. It goes about as well as anyone would expect. ✦ World’s Saddest Breakfast Club by motleyfam, dick & jason & tim & damian & bruce & cass & steph & duke & cast, 7k      Following a couple of Very Bad Weeks™ (which may or may not have involved being kidnapped and mildly tortured), Jason decides the best way to cheer himself up is to break into the Manor for a 3 a.m. snack. Turns out he isn’t the only one awake. BATFAM FIC RECS - I CUT MY TEETH ON DICK & TIM AS CLOSE BROTHERS AND NOT EVEN CANON WILL NOT TAKE IT FROM ME: ✦ Not So Large but Definitely In Charge by dottie_dc (dottie_wan_kenobi), dick & tim & bruce & alfred, 6.7k      Alternate universes suck so much. Tim has always known that, but he’s never really grasped it, not until he and Dick were forcibly thrown into one a week ago. ✦ there’ll always be a few things, maybe several things by incogneat_oh, dick & tim, ~1k      Tim breaks the silence, half-glancing over his shoulder to murmur, “Pop-culture has taught me that you’re supposed to seek out your parent in the middle of the night. Not your sibling.” “Pop-culture isn’t a perfect teacher, Timmy.” ✦ will we ever get to the other side? by dizarys, dick & tim, 4.8k      Blockbuster is dead and Dick is lost. Haunted by that night and no longer Nightwing, he flees Gotham only to find himself back in Bludhaven on mob business. Now Robin is the city’s new protector and Dick is determined to avoid Tim & his old life. That is, until he finds Tim bleeding in an alley. ✦ World Gone MAD by Havendance, dick & tim & justice league, 5.5k      Ask the GCPD about the Joker’s death, and they’ll tell you he died of natural causes. Ask the Justice League, and they’ll tell you that it’s a matter that’s been resolved internally. Ask Batman and he won’t give you an answer, because he’s Batman. The truth of the matter, however, is this: Dick Grayson beat the Joker to death. ✦ Wake Me Up Before You Go Go by incogneat_oh, dick & tim, ~1k      He’s already halfway up the stairs, towards the window on the second floor landing, when Dick says, “Tim.” He turns back, says wide-eyed and guilty, “Mhm? Can I– I’ll get you a blanket? If you want?” – Or, Tim visits Dick in Bludhaven. ✦ unleash the beast (with a kiss on the cheek) by InkpotSprite, dick & tim & bruce & jason & stephanie, 1.3k      Dick’s chest tightened as his lips parted to say something that he’d truly regret. Before a soft pair of lips pressed against his cheek, then disappeared so quickly that Dick was almost sure he’d imagined it. If it weren’t for Bruce’s fractionally wide eyes, Dick would think he had. Slowly, he turned his head to the side. Tim smiled back at him. BATFAM FIC RECS - I WILL DIE ON THE HILL THAT TIM DRAKE’S TRUE LOVE INTEREST IS CONNER KENT AND NOBODY CAN STOP ME, NOT EVEN GOD: ✦ cat tactic of healing by CarrionCarnival, tim/kon, 2.1k      Kon finds a moderately sick Tim, and decides that it’s his problem to solve. feline style ✦ In the Corner Taking up Space by Louis_the_Snake, tim/kon & cast, NSFW, 5.1k      Tim gets roped into doing a simple modeling gig for Wayne Fashion with some of his siblings and realizes that everyone he knows is way hotter than he is. And the hottest thing about him is his ass. Which ends up plastered in every major city in the U.S. ✦ Thief by rotasha, tim/kon, NSFW, 1.8k      Kon walks in on Tim wearing his leather jacket. ✦ only touched you once by distracted_dragon, tim/kon, NSFW, 1.8k      Kon decides to tease Tim a little with his TTK. ✦ Missing Words by Violet_Witch, tim/kon & cassie, 6.9k      It takes Tim years to realize what’s always been there. ✦ What’s Real and What Isn’t by JpegDotJpeg, tim/kon & bart, 2.3k      Kon’s eyes almost glow in the dark, a luminescent blue so vivid Tim almost can’t stand looking at them, though he has a harder time trying to look away from them. “I thought you were having a nightmare or something. Your heart was beating so hard it woke me up.” Tim feels himself a flush. He can’t even sleep without bothering someone else. “Oh,” He replies, voice small. “Sorry. I’m fine, you can go back to sleep.” “You’re shaking,” Kon points out and Tim curses internally. ✦ you taught me the courage of stars before you left by popsunner, tim & kon & bruce & damian & lois & jon & cassie & cast, 6k      “He loved you, you know,” She says wistfully, meeting his eyes. Tim looks away. “I loved him too.” “Love.” “What?” “Love,” she repeats. “Not loved. He might be gone, but we don’t love him any less.“ BATFAM FIC RECS - TAKE THE ANGST DIAL, TURN IT UP TO ELEVEN, AND BREAK THE KNOB OFF, THAT’S WHAT I’M HERE FOR: ✦ Arguments with the Recently Deceased by JackHawksmoor, dick & bruce & clark & tim & cast, 7.9k      Dick just got back from a lousy, week-long adventure traveling in time. When his ride drops him off at the cave the morning after he left, Dick isn’t expecting to find Bruce in the middle of a complete meltdown. Dick realizes there’s been a mistake- Dick hasn’t been gone six hours, he’s been gone six months, and everyone thinks he’s dead. ✦ Solar Flares by glassofwater, dick & bruce & jason & tim & damian & alfred & cast, 46.1k wip      Personhood, noun: the quality or condition of being an individual person. Son, noun: a man regarded as the product of a particular person, influence, or environment. Dick Grayson, noun: oldest son of Bruce Wayne, first son of Batman (i.e., a sum of parts, not a whole) ✦ Starlings in Winter by FromStarstuff, dick & bruce & clark & alfred & cast, 14.3k wip      When Dick was eleven years old he ran away from Gotham. No one could quite figure out why. Take your pick; there was a fight at school, a circus in town, and a song he can’t remember the melody of. Eleven-year-old Dick Grayson was flooded with grief, swimming in it, perpetually drowning. One day it was too much. ✦ Going Nuclear by wrsttballplayer, dick & bruce & jason & tim & damian & barbara & cass & steph & alfred, time travel, 15.3k wip      Dick looked at his younger self; the way his brow twisted up in so much anger and his was chest heaving with pure vitriol. Dick remembered what fury like that felt like. He remembered the way it burnt in his throat. He used to spew that poison at Bruce all the time, hell even the Titans had gotten the bad end of his temper more than once. And yet, Dick couldn’t place the last time he had been mad like that. Nowadays, all his anger died into withering flames of resignation and compromise more often than not. ✦ Why Is Tim the Only One With Any Tact? by CamsthiSky, dick & tim & wally, 4.1k      In which Tim tries to mediate an argument between Dick and Wally. Things don’t go so well. ✦ You Won’t Wake Up Alone by DawnsEternalLight, dick & bruce & jason & tim & damian, 5.2k      Dick’s captured and drugged and probably about to die. The last thing he wants to do is die in front of his family, especially not his baby brothers, all he wants is to be with Bruce and feel safe again. ✦ Hold Me Dear and Close to Your Heart by sElkieNight60, dick & bruce & cast, 3.8k      Dick Grayson leaves his whole life behind when Bruce Wayne kicks him out. ✦ the flute of your whole existence by LovesFrogs, bruce & dick & jason & tim & damian & alfred, 4.2k     He could voice his greatest fears, weaknesses, or most secret dreams at the drop of a hat; all the things he’s never put into words before and keeps tucked close between his ribs. What kind of ammunition is his son going to ask for? What will he make Bruce admit, knowing he is incapable of a lie? ✦ The Kids Are(n’t?) Alright by avengemyheart, dick & bruce & tim & alfred & cast, rape aftermath, 3k      Dick saves a young rape victim from his babysitter and in the process reveals his own trauma. The problem? Dick is Batman at the time, and kids are blabber mouths. ✦ Cursed Silence by TheSilencer, dick & bruce & jason & tim & steph & cast, 3.4k      Dick Grayson is given a gift - to seal away his emotions. No one has a good time. ✦ Peeking Through the Tunnel Beyond by sElkieNight60, dick & bruce & cast, read the tags, 2.4k      Or, Dick Grayson just can’t seem to free himself from his past. And this time, Bruce is there. ✦ soft clocks by dustorange, dick & bruce & damian & jason & tim & alfred & tiger & cast, 35.2k      Dick has amnesia during his time at Spyral. The family grapples with finding out he’s alive. Dick grapples with finding out he has a family. ✦ Never Say That by JackHawksmoor, bruce & dick & jason & damian & cast, 9.6k      "Calm down, I’m not aiming for anything vital,” Jason said irritably. Batman turned away from the man he’d just floored. “We agreed-” he began sharply. “I didn’t promise anything,” Jason snapped. He lifted his gun, muttering under his breath. “You ought to be grateful, it could be worse-” Or: the Bats have an extremely bad night in Gotham City BATFAM FIC RECS - SOMETIMES YOU JUST NEED TO TAKE ALL THE SERIOUSNESS OUT OF THE ROOM AND STAY SILLY FOR AWHILE: ✦ there but for the grace of god by TheResurrectionist, hal & dinah & ollie & flash & j'onn & bat-kids & young justice & justice league, 3.7k      A Justice League fic where everyone argues about who’s the most beautiful and intimidating sexy from the Big Three and everyone has valid points. ✦ The One With The Bat’s Son by Maximum_Quinn, bruce & dick & wally & hal & billy, 3.4k      “Batman has seven kids.” Wally blinked. “You’re shitting me.” “Not even a little, I just overheard him and Supes talking.” “Oh my god,” he breathed, staring at Hal incredulously. “You don’t think -?” Hal nodded, slowly and seriously. “Batman could be Captain Marvel’s dad.”

[slightly-knot-insane]

Hi! Are you still taking orders or something? If so, I have an idea for you~ For example, a werewolf × a Fox!the reader is like enemies-lovers. Where we tease him all the time, and it really annoys him, ho-ho~

I was listening to a song when I got the inspo for this. It's in Croatian, by a band called Tutti Frutti, and the lyrics go like this (my translation):

Kao srna gonjena preko snijega duboka (Like a pursued doe in the deep snow) Iza moga ramena skloni se od lovaca (Hide from hunters behind my shoulder) S oba oka sklopljena (With both of your eyes closed)

Thank you for the ask! This fic got a bit long so I'll split it in two, I apologize ^^'

Don't You Dare! (part 1)

Monstertober 2024 - day 13 [ Mating / Hunting season ] by @/ozzgin

[ m!werewolf x fox hybrid fem!reader ]

You two grew up together. Since your clans have lived next to each other peacefully sharing a vast forest for many years, that wasn't so unusual. You and Ash were friends when you were kids, but he was too shy and aloof for your teen tastes, and you slowly grew distant.

Today, for the first time, you were tasked of guarding the eastern part of the forest. The hunting season began just a few days ago.

"Ugh, you're so booooring," you complain. "Let's at least play a game."

"We're supposed to be watchful," he retorts.

"You know hunters never come this far so early. It will be a peaceful evening, I just know it. Come on, Ash, truth or dare?" The werewolf huffs and keeps walking in front of you. How dares he ignore you! You take your staff and smack his ass.

Ash jumps from shock and swings his strong arm, ready to strike. With a swift leap backward, you escape him, giggling. When he realizes it was only you teasing him, he growls. He is kinda cute when he's angry. "Don't do that! I could've..."

"What? You're too big and slow for me. Truth or dare, Ash? I'll slap your cute ass until you accept."

His werewolf ears fall behind and he awkwardly rubs the back of his head. With another huff, he continues walking. "Uhh... Truth?"

"Have you ever orally pleased someone?"

He trips and turns toward you in shock. "That's a really private question!"

"That's the game, pup, you know the rules." You loved calling him pup because he was three years younger than you and everyone knows werewolves mature slower than fox hybrids.

He scowls at you but answers, as quietly as he could: "Yes..."

"Oh you're a big man now! Good job, pup, I'm glad you know how to please your partners." He shakes his head and continues walking, faster than before. You run after him. "I choose dare!" You're sure he heard you, but he was quiet for quite a while before asking his question.

"I dare you to—" but he suddenly stops and sniffs the wind. He looks at you and and swallows hard. "D-do you know you're... you're about to..."

Why is he so uncomfortable all of a sudden? "Ash, speak up, I can't hear you!" you shout, impatiently dragging your fox tail across the ground. But the silly big pup in front of you continues being awkward. You can sense he is blushing, even though you can't see that on his canine face. "ASH!"

A rifle blast shuts you up, and a bullet flies dangerously near Ash's face. Hunters!

Instinct immediately kicks in and you start running. You are faster than Ash, but you would never leave him behind. Hunters are apparently too far away because they don't shoot again. Still, your heart is racing, fear and excitement electrifying your blood and also... also...

Oh no.

Your cycle. You're in heat! It's still early and you can focus on other things, but... You need to get to a safe place, quickly.

"Ash, I'm—"

"I know," he immediately replies, checking your surroundings. "There is a waterfall not far from here. The water will hide us and our tracks."

You change direction and very soon you hear the rushing in the bottom of a ravine. Of course, you and Ash have no problem getting down safely and you jump into the shallow stream. It is cold and fast, but walking upstream will confuse your pursuers. Also, you need to warn your clans as soon as possible. Yes, you need to focus on that. Only that. Not on how tall Ash is or how good he smells. Or how you always thought he was smart and sweet. And how you saw him swimming once. Or how you wanted to push your finger into his sheath and see what's inside. Or how... shit.

Your pussy started aching, itching, pulsating from need. You had to press it, rub it, stimulate it somehow or you'll go mad. You squeeze your thighs together, pushing your fist against your entrance, with a weak whimper - and you trip, almost dropping your staff. "Fuck, Ash. I can't hold it."

Ash stops but doesn't help you - he hasn't said a single word the entire time or looked at you. And he was constantly trying to walk upwind from you. "Do it quickly and we'll continue. I'll... keep watch."

That idiot pup. "Ash..." Your voice got a note of urgency. "Don't make me beg."

His ears perk up and he stares at you all big eyed, looking like a virgin doe-eyed buck. You roll your eyes, irritated. "Just my luck - I'm horny as a rabbit, and stuck between rifles and a cherry boy. Maybe rifles will give me..."

You are interrupted by a hand grabbing your throat. The other palm is on your ass squeezing it like a sponge. Ash is in your face, snout almost touching your nose. He is quietly growling, but you feel that tremble in your core.

"You chose dare, didn't you?" he asks you. His palm slides from your ass, follows the roundness of your hips and cups your mound. The tip of his finger immediately finds your aching clit. You gasp. "I dare you not to scream when you cum with my knot inside you."

[ part 2 ]

[jojomiwbvb6]

The Shower Scene, Pt. 4

Taglist: @emzandthevoid @mentallynot-here @bloodymug @sprokat @princesspeach-00 @ghoulsquad @missduffsblog @yeehaw-my-guys @lma1986 @artificialbreezy

Author's Note: I apologize for taking so long to do this chapter! I have had a bit of writer's block and I have been busy doing a lot lately. This will be the finale to this series, I really hope you enjoy! Feel free to give me more ideas! I was thinking of writing some Sasuke or Itachi fics as well.

Warnings: 18+, MDNI, NSFW. Extremely long and descriptive smut, unprotected p-in-v (be safe about it, or use condoms please), overstimulation, degradation, praise, oral (female receiving), punishment, spanking, swearing, squirting, casual alcohol consumption

PSA: this is very obviously a work of fiction, and should in no way be taken seriously or literally. this piece of fiction uses real people in fictional and fantastical mindsets--and it is in no way a representation of the real person or who they are as a whole. Thank you for coming to our ted talk.

--

Atlanta.

The humid wind hits your face, the city never motionless around you. You inhale the air, closing your eyes and letting your body relax. Your nerves are completely jumbled and overstimulated as your mind mulls over the past week so far.

The pictures of yourself flash through your head. Noah's words flooding your mind. You can't escape the anxiety it brought you, and the excitement of your actions.

You stared at your feet, black vans reflected against tan concrete as you stood against the bus. Twiddling your thumbs and exhaling heavily, you turn to Davis as he approaches you.

"Hey, kid! Some of the guys were just thinking of exploring the botanical gardens and the zoo and maybe going for some grub, wanna come?" He smiles at you, raising an eyebrow for an inviting answer.

"Shit, bro, I'm down." You agree and smile back. It was the first day off in over a week and you were grateful for it. You were looking forward to moments with Noah, but you also needed to get out and do something else for once.

As you and Davis caught up with the group, consisting of both you two, Ruffilo, Noah, Matt, and Jolly (the rest went off to do other things), you could hear their jesting and cackles even from a ways back.

"Morning guys!" You say, smiling and out of breath.

"Hey (Y/N)!" You were greeted by multiple of them.

Noah turned, walking backwards. "Hey, (Y/N)," he smirks lazily, waving his hand, drawing his eyes over you subtly and licking his lips.

You huff, catching his eyes and offering a suggestive smile. "Hi, Noah." He smiles back at you, and then turns back around to continue walking. You admire his long, toned frame as he took smooth strides forward.

--

All of you thoroughly enjoyed the relaxing and wondrous vibes of the gardens and the culture of the city. Having been walking and exploring for over 2 hours, you all decide to pause your activities for a bit of lunch.

"What should we eat? I'm starving, man," Ruffilo comments.

"Hmm. Haven't had Chipotle in a while," Davis replies.

"How about sushi?" Matt adds.

You're silent. Honestly, you're so hungry, you don't even care what you guys eat. Anything sounds good.

Noah steps up beside you. "Sushi sounds fuckin' fantastic," he agrees.

When the others aren't paying any attention, Noah leans into your ear quickly and quietly, "I'm hungry for something else, though."

You almost gasp when he leans away, giving a quick caress to your ass while the others are walking away. He casually smirks at you, continuing to walk in the direction of the Japanese sushi bar on the corner.

Your face felt hot, and you were fighting the frustrated blush that crept up your face. You were nearly hyperventilating and you couldn't help it. You took a deep breath of the next gust of Georgia wind that caressed your face, composing yourself and catching back up with the group.

--

"Fuck, this hits the spot dude." Matt comments, and you're nodding along with the rest of the guys.

"Hell yeah."

You're all sitting at the table, a whole boat of sushi in front of you and then some. Ruffilo is sipping on sake while all of you make small chit chat.

"Hey! Ruffilo! Let me try some of that," you say.

"Ever had sake?" Ruffilo says.

"No," you state, taking the small white cup from his hands.

"What!" You hear half of the table exclaim, with pleas of interest in you trying the drink.

You slowly take a sip. Instantly the taste of the Japanese alcohol hits your tongue and you're writhing. "Yuck! Oh! That's revolting!"

Cracks of laughter erupt from the table. Soon, you are laughing as well.

"That's enough of that," you joke.

After lunch, you all go shopping and walk around downtown. After several hours of being out and having free time the whole day, it was time to return to the hotel that was booked for the night. In the morning, you would quickly pack up and shuffle back onto the bus for Orlando, Florida.

--

Walking away from the bus with a suitcase in hand and backpack over your shoulder, you step into the hotel. You stop at the front desk to get your keycard from the receptionist.

"Room for (Y/L/N), please."

"Ahh," she pauses, typing on her keyboard. "We don't have a room here, I'm afraid..."

You frown. "All of these rooms should have been pre-booked," you state. Your mind frantically searches for a solution. You begin to list the several names of the other crew members and band members, but most were already in their rooms. You thought of one more name.

Oh, you thought. He didn't!

"There may be another name," you try. "Sebastian?"

The receptionist, looking mildly annoyed now, huffs and types in the name. You ignore her annoyance, watching patiently. A look of resolve crosses the receptionist's face. You feel hopeful.

He did.

"Hmm," she says. "It appears one more keycard is available for this room. Just sign this document and you may have your keycard."

You fill out the appropriate paperwork, signing on the line. The receptionist pulls the paper back to her and slides the keycard across the counter. You exchange your thanks.

"Room 207, 3rd floor." The woman tells you and turns away.

You don't waste anymore time. As you walk down the hall to the elevator, the smirk on your face grows 10 miles wide, confidence enveloping you.

You knew exactly why he'd done it, and frankly, you weren't about to protest. Your heart slams into your chest with every sound of your heels and the roll of the suitcase wheels on the carpet.

You take a deep breath as you step onto the elevator.

--

207.

The silver numbers glint as you stand parked in front of the door. He was inside there already, waiting for you to come in. You exhale shakily as you grip the door handle, and you hesitate.

Closing your eyes, you begin to smirk. This is what you've been fiending after for several weeks. Taking another deep breath, you slide the keycard into the door.

The lock clicks and you twist the handle, allowing yourself into the room.

You analyze your surroundings. One lamp is on in the dimly lit room. A small walkway leading into a rather spacious double bed. There was a desk to the left, and a mini kitchen straight ahead. The bathroom immediately to the left. Without paying further attention, you walk to a bed and set your bag down on it.

You didn't seem to notice Noah, maybe he'd left the room for something. You shrug, bending over to open up your suitcase and lay it out.

Without you noticing, Noah slips out of the bathroom and leans against the wall, examining the rear view you're giving him.

"Well, well, already bending over? Princess, I haven't even taken off your clothes yet," Noah chuckles darkly.

You swear you jump 10 feet into the air, yelping loudly. If he hadn't scared you, his words would've gone straight to your core. "Noah Sebastian, for crying out loud!" You laugh and smack his shoulder. "Don't do that!" You both share a chuckle.

You can feel Noah decreasing the distance between you two and your laughter begins to fade. Noah's eyes flutter over you, landing on your eyes, your mouth, your breasts, feeling overwhelmed pleasantly.

You found yourself licking your lips. You begin to turn away.

Faster than the flick of a wrist, Noah's hand shoots up, gripping your jaw and squeezing your cheeks together. You are both silent, the tension shooting higher than ever.

You go to grab his hand and you are immediately caught by his other hand. He grips your wrist tightly, but not painfully. Noah's eyes change into dangerous slits and a playfully evil smirk takes over his features.

"The way that you have been torturing me has been driving me insane," Noah whispers into your ear. You want to collapse on the spot.

He begins walking you slowly backwards.

"You've been such a fucking brat, too, getting me hot for you at the worst times..." His hot breath fans your face, your own breath quickening in pace.

"The only thing I can think about is how I'm going to having you praying to me when I'm done ravaging you." You feel your hips hit the desk behind you.

"Noah..." you whisper.

He pulls at your face until you're eye to eye with him. He chuckled darkly.

"That's my fucking name," he growls into your ear. "And you're never going to forget it."

His hands leave your face and your wrist. Gripping your hips, he lifts you onto the desk and shoves you on it. He pulls you against his own hips, and his left hand rises to tangle in your hair.

Noah's cologne invades your senses, addicted to the scent. He tugs at the strands, inflicting a raspy moan from you. "How beautiful," Noah mumbles, helping himself to your inviting lips.

You both kiss as if life were going to end. His fingers flex against your clothed hips, pulling at your shirt and caressing you. Your tongues slipped against each other, nipping and suckling at each other's lips.

You wrapped your legs around Noah's hips, pulling him closer. Noah pulls away from your lips. Smirking, he pulls up your shirt with ease and tossed it away somewhere on the floor behind you.

"Such pretty, pretty tits..." he drawls, giant hands cupping them and he flicks a nipple. You gasp. Noah moves up your body, leaning over to envelope a taut nipple into his warm mouth. He flicks at it with the tip of his tongue and you moan quietly.

He pops off of you and smirks wickedly, and feigns a look of concern. "Is that just too much pleasure for you? Should I stop?"

"N-no! No, please, don't stop," You almost choke.

Noah stands. His bulge is prominent against his sweatpants and you almost drool. It seems so big and you can't focus on anything but the need you feel. Your core is hot and you squirm.

"Such a needy fucking slut." He pulls your body forward, running a hand oh-so-low but not enough.

You mewl as his fingers creep to your covered pussy and slowly tease the bud.

"Mmm.." you groan and Noah chuckles.

"Like that, babygirl?"

You nod.

"Too bad." Noah stops and you whine. "Enough of that. Strip,"

"Yes, sir."

Noah chuckles. "Such good manners for me. So desperate."

By now, you're a puddle of pleasure and you want it to swallow you whole. Noah sits on the edge of the bed as you peel your pants off your shaking legs. You remove your panties, tossing them aside.

"So pretty," he comments. "Come here and lay across my lap."

You obey, positioning yourself across his lap.

"Before we begin, is this something you're okay with me doing to you?"

"Absolutely," you confirm. "I can take it."

Noah hums in understanding. "Such arrogance. You will learn."

His hands begin to touch and caress the flesh of your behind, shaking the cheeks and watching them jiggle with satisfaction. He rubs in slow circles. His hand leaves your ass, forming a cup-shape, and crack.

The first spank stings, and you gasp out. His hand returns to rub the welt.

"Here's how this is going to go. You will get five spanks for our first time. This is your punishment for being such a slut," he rubs slowly. "If you fail to complete the spanking, I'll fuck your mouth. I won't stop if you choke or gag."

You whimper and nod your head.

"I'm glad you understand. If you succeed, princess, I'll have a taste of you for myself."

You mewl, squirming in his lap. "Now, now," he warned you. "Count for me." You nod frantically, wanting so desperately to please him. Although, you wouldn't complain if you failed the test.

The first two spanks were easy. His hand fell on tandem and you dutifully stated each number with each gasp and whimper he pulled from you. You really didn't think you could fail, how could you? Sure, it stung a little, but you could handle it.

As "three" fell from your lips, the usual soothing rub came to ease the sting.

"Everything okay, princess?"

"Yes, sir."

"May I proceed?"

"Yes, sir."

"Good girl," he whispered, making you squirm. He chuckled darkly. He pulled apart your cheeks, and leaned down. "Mmm, princess... so wet for me. Oh, I bet you're just aching. Let me help you..."

Noah dipped his fingers in between your legs. His fingers slid between the wet folds and you jolt. His other hand keeps you still and you're left victim to his merciless tease. He softly rubs into your wet heat and you're left mewling against his leg, head hanging.

Noah rubs the tip of his middle finger into your clit. "How's that?"

You nod frantically, unable to speak against his onslaught. At your response, he removes his fingers from your heat and resumes the next spank. The fourth spank is rougher and harder than the last.

"F-four!" You cry out, struggling to hold the composure that remained. "P-please, Noah, I--"

"Hush," he demanded. He caressed the welt, the red marks on your ass much to his liking. "One more for me, princess. You can do it."

Without any warning, Noah's fingers slip once again against your heat. Only this time, he doesn't relent. He teases and pinches your clit and you squirm, earning a dark chuckle from him.

Noah slides his fingers up to your entrance and sinks one finger inside of you and you moan.

"Noahhh, this isn't fair!"

"Be quiet, and don't you dare cum, or you lose," he threatens, and you obey with whimper after whimper as he pumps his finger in and out of you.

He adds another finger, and begins assaulting your clit with the other hand. You're an absolute mess against his lap, his fingers scissoring inside you and rutting against your g-spot. Bliss and pleasure overwhelms you, getting close to the brink as Noah's fingers continue to pump into you, faster and harder.

Your whimpers begin to form into cries, pleading for him to let you cum. Your eyes begin to roll back and you're trying to push back onto his fingers to get more from him.

"You like that baby?" He whispers in your ear. "Gonna cum?"

You nod, mouth agape. Noah smirks and removes his fingers entirely. You groan in frustration, and, as sly as he is, catches you off guard with the fifth and final spank.

Your brain almost can't comprehend the pleasure your body feels, the sting sending you into shock and you almost forget your task.

"F-f-five..." you stutter.

His large, long hands caress both cheeks of your ass and a kiss is planted onto the red welt on the swell of it.

"You're such a good, good girl, princess. I'm impressed. Good job," Noah praises you. "Lay down on your back for me."

You slowly get up and crawl onto the hotel bed mattress and lie down on the cushiony pillows.

"Spread your pretty legs, don't be shy."

You let your legs fall apart, spread against the sheets. Noah sucks in a breath and hums in satisfaction. He crawls up the bed to you, pulling his shirt off and tossing it aside as you had. Your eyes feast on the tattoos covering his body.

"God, princess, you're so fucking wet," you moan at his words and he dives in. Noah's tongue licks a wet stripe up your core from your entrance to your clit. You cry out, hands immediately finding his hair. Noah hums and you quiver, the vibrations stimulating you.

He licks into your folds with fervor, as if he hadn't eaten all day. His tongue dances and pokes at your entrance, pleasure spiking and you're squirming against his mouth. Noah laps at your clit, boldly taking the bud into his mouth and sucking at it. He then takes it into his mouth, swirling the sensitive area against his tongue, dancing in circles.

"Noah!!" you cry.

You arch your back, eyes rolling back as you grip his hair and pull, and he groans. Noah adjusts his position, shoving your legs up and he dives deeper into your pussy. He shoves his tongue up into it, swirling it and shaking his head like a rabid dog. You're practically crying out, thrusting against his face and leaving it a wet mess.

Offering you his fingers again, he dives against your clit once more, nipping at it and sucking it; this time, he aids his mouth with his fingers. Thrusting two digits in, his long fingers find your g-spot again. He mercilessly pokes at it, unrelenting with his tongue and fingertips. You're moaning and a mess and it's almost too much.

Your eyes see nothing but stars in the back of your head and you're moaning loudly. You cum and rut onto his mouth. "Fuck, fuck," you gasp.

Noah pops off of your pussy. "Tastes... so good..." he gasps. "I want more."

"I want you so bad, Noah," you whine. "I want you to fuck me."

"What a dirty mouth," he comments, stinking a finger in your mouth as he caresses your jaw. You wrap your lips around his finger and lock eyes with him. You suck and lock eyes with him. He smiles, and removes his finger.

Noah removes his pants and slides his boxers down his slim legs. The only thing you can do is lay there, mouth agape at the beautiful artwork before you. You bite your lip, you just can't wait.

He comes back to you, and you gasp in surprise when he forces your legs against your chest. Noah captures his lips in yours and lines his cock up with your entrance. He wastes no time in sinking in slowly. Due to your wetness, he slides in easily and sinks in as far as he's able. You're both gasping and long moans escape from your mouths and the intense heat between each other's legs.

He begins to move slowly, enjoying the teasing ways your walls grip his cock, threatening to take him deep.

"Fuck, baby... your pussy is just so fucking wet..." he mumbles. A low groan erupts from him, eliciting a moan from you.

His pace begins to quicken and he ruts in deeper. He just can't help himself when you give him the go-ahead by moaning louder.

Pretty soon, the room is filled with explicit sounds from the two of you. The sound of skin slapping fills the room and you're moaning. You're both mumbling the dirtiest phrases to each other, getting each other hotter and higher.

"Fuck" is the only word you chant as he thrusts into you like his life depends on it. He's fucking you hard and unforgiving.

"This pussy is mine," Noah growls into your ear, and you moan.

"Noah!!" You cry as his pace picks up, desperate and greedy. Skin slaps skin, near stinging, relentless. You can't help it when you cum, creating such a sinful sight for Noah as your wetness coats your legs and his cock.

He growls. "Fuck, I'm not done with you yet!" He pulls out and turns you over into doggy, pushing your stomach down and pulling your ass into the air.

He enters you again, finding his rhythm. Pulling you back against his hips in every thrust.

"Take me, take me, take me," you cry out.

Noah groans, picking up his pace. He twists his fingers into the strands of your hair, pulling your head back. He pounds into you, and at this angle the pleasure is overstimulating as his cock hits your spot over and over. He pulls you further back, forcing you to rise to your hands, the pace unforgiving and tears fall down your cheeks.

"Noah!" You cry once more.

Juices run down your legs as you cum one more time, but Noah doesn't seem to be done. You're worn out and fucked into bliss, drooling against the pillow. You can't think and your voice is hoarse.

He groans loudly, letting you know he's almost ready. You push back on his cock and he growls. Wrapping a hand around your throat and squeezing gently, he begins fucking in quick ruts. "Fuck, princess, (Y/N)!"

He pulls out of you, his cock glistening and pulsing as his cum shoots out in pearls against your stomach. You moan, but Noah isn't done.

His hand goes to your clit and he smirks. You cry out at the fast quick pace he uses on you, his fingers insert inside of you to smash against your g-spot in one final assault.

"Cum, (Y/N), one more for me," he insists. He doesn't stop, and quickens his pace.

"Noah, please!" You beg, too overstimulated and sensitive.

He doesn't listen, yet urges you towards an orgasm that feels like a tsunami coming for you.

It happens before you can stop yourself, your cum coming out in such a powerful wave that you squirt a little, making such a mess.

This absolutely pleases Noah and he smiles. "Perfect." He kisses your cheek. "You are wonderful." He praises.

You both lay there, panting and laughing, praising one another.

"Shower?"

"I think so."

[daycourtofficial]

I got cursed like Eve got bitten - part XVIII

Pairing: Azriel x Rhysand's sister!reader | WC: 4.6k | Warnings: depictions of violence, broken bones, vulgar language

Summary: reports of a rare powered fae popping up in Illyria send Azriel and Rhysand on a journey through the past, unraveling a truth they thought long buried

Previous part | Masterlist

The flight back to your village was long and cold. Cassian kept you cradled in his arms, pretending not to hear you cry. 

You appreciated it.

The flight was silent between you two as you tried to navigate the memories of the past few weeks with the new knowledge you had, trying to decipher where they liked you for you versus when they liked who you were.

It was all a mess. You wanted answers, but you also left the three people with the majority of them. You rubbed your eyes before looking up at Cassian, his stubbled jawline very well suited for his ruggedly handsome face.

“Did you know?”

Your voice cracked unintentionally, and you cringed at the sound but didn’t apologize.

“We all knew.”

You put your face in your hands, rubbing at the stinging in your eyes. Cassian’s large hand cradled your head, his thumb moving in a soothing motion. His wings flapped against the wind, causing him to speak louder.

“Feyre knew, but she didn’t know you before.”

You figured as much. Feyre was much younger than you - the rumors said she wasn’t even half a century old when she saved Prythian. 

You felt so foolish with every passing minute.

“But you did?”

He nodded, the bun on the back of his head bobbing slightly with the motion. You were furious with the others, and you should have been furious with Cassian, but it was harder with him. You weren’t sure why - probably because you’ve only known him for three hours and he didn’t weave lies about spending time with you.

“When we met earlier, you made it sound like you knew me before.”

The breath he let out with his laugh looked like smoke as it trailed behind the two of you. “Yeah, I knew you then.”

“What was I like?”

“A nightmare.”

You laughed, his response not the one you expected. There was something about him that felt so familiar. He was warm and inviting, but something scratched at your mind like you knew him.

“Az and Rhys have both said you’re just like you were then.”

Your surprise must have shown across your face as Cassian smiled. “Am I really?”

“Are you still hustling unsuspecting males?” Your silence was confirmation enough for the General, shaking his head at your past self’s antics.

“I don’t know much about current you, but I didn’t have any siblings of my own before Rhys and Az. I always wanted a little sister. Someone to defend, someone to be close to.” The cold did little to stop the heat that was radiating off of him. “I regretted all of that because of you. You were so annoying, I was certain you lived to make my life worse.”

He laughed, a joy spreading through his chest that put a small dent in the anger you felt. “Once you were so mad at me, you cut out tiny holes in the tips of all of my socks so over the course of a few weeks the holes grew and all of my socks were unusable.”

You tipped your head back, laughing at the absurdity. “Did Azriel find me annoying?”

He rolled his eyes. “No, you were always nice to him. We hardly saw you when you were a kid - we were both worked to the bone. I think I saw you more than Azriel did, though. I think he only met you three times before you were forty.”

He continued, a softer look on his face, his voice growing quiet like he was sharing a secret. “Rhys’s dad had him in his employ. Azriel hardly talks about that time in his life - Rhys and I were lucky to see him once a year on Solstice. Otherwise we only saw him once a decade.”

He blew out a breath, expelling his frustrations, letting his voice rise again. “Once, you had to be nine or ten, you begged me to go flying with you because you weren’t allowed to fly on your own. I had just gotten in and was only going to be there for twelve hours, but after your pleading, I went with you and told you we’d only fly for five minutes.” You watched his eyes form a sort of haze from the memories he was playing. “Well, at the four and a half minute mark, you grabbed my foot, unlaced my boot, pulled it off, and said, “if you want it back you’ll have to catch me!”

You both laughed, imagining a fully grown leader of the Illyrian army being bested by a small child. “It took me an hour to catch up to you. I wanted to throttle you. I was so mad. I was so exhausted. I really considered killing you.” 

Your laughing died down, the air growing quiet around the two of you. “You had worn yourself out flying so you asked me to fly you back.”

The two of you were coasting now, the snow covered lands below looking so small beneath you both. “You’ve been a thorn in my side for centuries.”

“I’m sure I found you annoying, too.”

He huffed, the air warming your face for a moment. “As if. I’m a delight.”

“Is that why you were hidden from me this whole time? Because you’re so delightful?”

The words slipped out. You had meant them in jest, but it had been nagging at you as to why Cassian was hidden from you. Did he think you should know? Had he done something to you before you died? His smile fell, a seriousness overcoming his face you hadn’t seen before. “Do you really want to get into this?”

You nodded. You had to know everything before getting back to Illyria. You wanted to know all of it so you could decide how to move forward. To move on you had to look back.

“When we thought you had died, it was awful. I mean… we weren’t the same for a long time. Hardly saw Azriel. I had gotten so used to seeing him again during your mateship, I forgot what it was like to have him be gone so much. Whenever I did see Rhys, he would be buried in papers and trade agreements and whatever thing he could lose himself in.”

The air around you both grew serious, Cassian’s easygoing smile setting into a more stoic frown. “Azriel and Rhys could hardly stand each other for a long time.”

You could feel the pain swirling in Cassian’s chest: grief, sadness, anger. It all swirled inside of him, threatening to consume him whole.

“Losing your sister was hard on us, just like losing your mom. But with you it felt… different. There were four of us for a long time, and then it became three of us.” You watched as your village got closer, still angry, nowhere near a conclusion.

“I know you’re mad, but nobody has ever seen anything like this before.” He landed, his feet hitting the ground harsher than Azriel had. The memory sent a pang through your chest as Cassian lowered you to the ground.

“Just.. here.” He searched his pant pockets before procuring a slip of parchment and a pencil. You looked up at him, confused. “It’s enchanted. We all have it in case we need help or need to let Rhys know something immediately. If you need one of us, or want to talk to anyone, just write it on the paper with that pencil, and once you finish the message, it’ll disappear to Rhys.”

You nodded, and the massive Illyrian before you looked almost like a sad puppy, his big hazel eyes giving away all of the emotions laying in his chest. 

“I know you must hate us, but we weren’t.. We didn’t know what was blocking your memories. Still don’t, I guess.” He rubbed the back of his head, causing the bun to come loose and shoulder length wavy hair to come tumbling out. “We were worried if you knew everything at once it would be rough. We wanted to make sure it was you at first, but as time went on, it got harder to tell you.”

“But I should have known.”

He sighed again, looking into your eyes, not wavering contact. “You never should have been in this situation in the first place.”

You turned to look at your tavern, the darkness inside feeling like an endless pit, so different from the darkness of the shadows that swirled around Azriel. Your stomach dropped thinking of him.

He was your mate.

The two of you were destined to be together by some entity higher than either of you.

“Do you think-” you stopped, trying to figure out how to ask what you want. “Do you think Azriel would still want me as his mate?” Cassian’s eyebrows shot up, and you quickly began trying to explain yourself. “I’m not- I’m mad, I’m angry. But I don’t want to come to terms with this and find out he doesn’t want me.”

“He will.”

You inspected Cassian’s face, looking for any sign of half-truth or falsehoods. Finding none, you asked what you really wanted to know.

“What if I never got my memories back?”

Cassian shrugged. There was an air of nonchalance about him that both felt calming and annoying. You definitely understood why Cassian said you loved tormenting him.

“You’ll make new memories.”

You turned, not offering a goodbye. You knew he would watch as you entered the tavern, the snow crunching beneath your heels, and when you shut the door behind you, you heard the beat of his wings taking off from the ground, pushing him into the skies.

You walked into the tavern, a swarm of emotions in your chest. For every answer you got, it seemed you made three new questions. Now you knew who you were - a name to the face you’ve been seeing in the mirror for centuries. Somehow when you entered this village over a century ago it was the only thing you knew. Something came back to you, a flicker of a moment. 

Hurt to breathe. Vomiting water. Females soothing your back. Your back screaming in pain at their touch.

You kept repeating your name over and over, like a prayer. 

You always thought your name was given to you by one of the females, someone giving you the first name they thought of - the name of a relative, perhaps. 

But you named yourself.

You sighed, pulling a chair off of a table before setting it on the ground. In your absence, someone had come in and stolen some of your wine, but they left several bottles for you to pick up and bring to the table you were sitting at.

You had so many thoughts running through you, you weren’t sure where to start. Do you start with the betrayal you felt at finally making friends only to realize they only liked you because they knew you before? The mate thing? Where to go from here?

Or do you fixate on what happened to you - assumingly you lost your wings the night you were thought to have died.

You took a swig from a bottle, the alcohol giving you something to enjoy as you decluttered  your mind.

Did it have something to do with the water? In your memory, you were spitting up water. Had you been drowned?

Your thoughts whirled and swirled, so deeply interwoven they were practically nonsensical. The flight here was long enough to dull your anger into confusion, needing time to just sort your thoughts out away from them. You sighed, getting up and grabbing parchment and a quill, about to start trying to piece together the things you knew when the door opened.

Shit. Forgot to lock it behind me.

“We’re closed,” you yelled, not even looking up, starting to scratch down some of the things you knew. You started with “Rhysand’s sister” in big letters before making a bulleted list including ‘Azriel’s mate’ below it. After a few minutes of scrawling, you looked up, completely having forgotten that someone came in.

The male before you caught you off guard, his long blonde hair radiant in the darkness.

“I hope you had a fine evening, Princess.”

Keir’s voice made your insides want to melt from disgust. You didn’t want to be under his scrutiny, his gaze lingering on your face making you feel ill. You weren’t sure why he was here, but his presence made you so uneasy. Just hours ago this male turned your world upside down, and now he wishes to speak to you? 

You went with  a more cordial approach. “Hello. Your court is beautiful.”

“No it isn’t.”

His honesty nearly gave you whiplash, his voice laced with disgust and annoyance. His presence made you so uneasy, filling you with dread as he stepped closer to you, his scent of snow and fresh soil filling your lungs.

“You have now seen how awful and terrible the place that Rhysand keeps us in is. We are kept in a pen, as if nothing more than cattle.” You shook your head, not knowing enough about the Court of Nightmares to argue. “Your father sat on that throne that your brother does now, having done nothing to help my people.”

You moved from behind the table, your movements slow and deliberate. If you sidestepped around him, you might be able to get to the door behind him. 

“I have found your family to be… ill-fitting for the throne.”

You nodded, pretending to agree so maybe he’d let you by, not letting your eyes stray from his.

“Millenia of terrible ruling all because the magic finds your spoiled brother to be a better fit than I.”

You turned, rushing for the door, knowing if you yelled loud enough Cassian might be able to hear you. Something wrapped around your hair, yanking you back from the door. You screamed as it ripped out your hair, your body colliding with Keir’s front.

“Not so fast, bitch.”

You clawed at his arms, your nails shredding his skin as your scalp burned from the hold he had on your hair. You were gasping, struggling to get out of his hold, but he was unrelenting. Your feet slid on the floor as you tried to gain stable footing, slowing down your clawing to get your feet planted on the floor. You pulled your head slightly forward, rearing your head back as hard as possible into Keir’s face. You heard a snapping sound, but couldn’t let yourself turn to look.

You ran for the bar, picking up the paper Cassian had handed you, hand searching through the darkness for the pen he had given you.

Keir’s hand grabbed the back of your head, pushing it down onto the counter, blood gushing from your nose all over the parchment. Your face was throbbing, your hand flying to cover your nose immediately. Keir took the moment to grab your free arm, wrapping his hand around your wrist, pinning it behind your back. He unsheathed a blade, the sound ringing in your ears as you struggled beneath him, kicking your feet out wildly to disrupt his stance.

“I never should have trusted those half-wit Spring heirs to complete a job. They couldn’t even kill a privileged brat like you.”

He brought the blade around, holding it close to your head.

“You got lucky once - those fools couldn’t complete the job. They let you loose somehow.” You could feel him shake his head, annoyance flaring in his chest. “You could give them all the answers they needed, provide maps, intel, anything they wanted but they’d be too dumb to strike.”

You couldn’t stop staring into the blade, your violet eyes looking back at you. 

“No matter. I am more than capable of finishing a kill.”

You looked at the same blade, your eyes full of fear as you saw the blood dripping from the metal. 

Your throat was raw from when the blade had slashed through your wings, slicing through the bone in shoddy work. You could barely hold yourself upright - you kept falling forward, the weight of your wings not balancing you.

You felt so dizzy, your back screaming in pain at the open wounds trying to stitch themselves back together. 

“Stay put,” the brown haired male had growled at you before stalking off, but not before he pushed you into the grass, your new stumps shrieking in pain at the contact with the ground. Your limbs screamed in agony, desperate for some aid, only able to flip yourself to relieve the pain from your back. Your face was in the dirt, inhaling the loose soil as you tried to gather enough strength to take in where you were. It was so hard to see through the tears lining your eyes, but you were able to make out the still lifeforms of your sister and mother, the bandits currently cutting off parts of their bodies. Bile rose in your throat as you vomited into the grass, your head resting in it as you tried to think.

You looked to the right, hearing the roar of the river in your ears, drowning out the raucous laughter of your attackers. The water was close, your limbs aching as you dug your fingers into the soil, pulling yourself closer to the edge. 

You had one shot of freedom. Either they killed you or the river did.

You’d take the river.

You rolled your body over the edge, the fall not taking long before you hit the water, the cold seeping into your bones. You went under the water momentarily, no energy to try to get yourself above water.

You were at the mercy of the river. 

You had hoped the rush of the water was enough to keep them from knowing where you went.

That was the last thought you had before the blood loss caught up to you, the adrenaline leaving your system as you fell into the throes of unconsciousness.

You took a deep breath as if you were just emerging from that river again.

That male was in Velaris. The one who told you to stay put. He was who you had seen that day out in town with Azriel. He was one of Keir’s guards, he had to be.

“You.”

It was all you could get out, your mind was whirring with the new memories coming to the forefront of your mind. Flying with Rhysand, pushing Cassian into the Sidra one Solstice, teaching your baby sister how to dance.

Your mother. Your beautiful mother and baby sister.

Azriel.

You felt that gold bond come back to life in your chest, the tiny remnants of thread having restitched itself back to life over the past century. 

You had died in that river, if only for a moment, the bond dying with you.

Except for one tiny thread that you’ve been nurturing for the past century and a half.

Azriel.

You gave the bond a sharp tug, pulling hard on the bond, tugging and tugging the never ending rope trying to get it back to you, as if you could physically drag Azriel to you. You were struggling beneath the weight of Keir, putting all of your weight into dragging Azriel here.

Tears sprung to your eyes at the tug you felt back.

You pushed your right foot out, swiping his knee, causing him to crumple just enough for you to move out from beneath him, out of his grasp.

Keir lunged toward you, the dagger in his hand nearly swiping your stomach. You reached to the side, grabbing bottles of liquor and wine, blindly throwing them at the male.

“You bitch.” He spat at you as your second bottle made contact, shattering at his feet and causing him to trip. 

“You little bitch, I am going to end this. I’m going to kill you and then I’m going to gut that false prophet that sits on the throne.”

He lunged, his dagger nicking you in the arm. You hissed at the contact, scrambling away from the bar once you ran out of bottles. You threw chairs at him, all of which he just waved away with his hands. You shoved a table toward him, trying to pin him against the bar as you turned and ran to the door. He pulled the rug out beneath you, your head slamming into the floor, a harsh crunch coming from you as your jaw slammed into your skull, causing you to see stars. 

Your hand reached up to assess the blood from your nose making it difficult to assess if your mouth was bleeding. Keir stepped onto your back, pressing all of his weight in to keep you in place.

“Now, killing you will be an honor. I will enjoy thinking back on this moment when I sit on my throne.”

You heard the dagger slicing through the air, your hands scrambling beneath you to move you up. Your nails clawed at the rug, desperate for any way to get up. Suddenly you felt Keir’s weight disappear from your back, and you turned fast enough to see a black shadowy mass pinning Keir beneath it.

“That’s my mate.”

Azriel picked up Keir’s head before slamming it into the stone floor, his blood splattering everywhere. Your head was spinning, trying to keep upright from the blood loss and how fast your thoughts were moving. Blips of a life flashed behind your eyes, centuries of life trying to crowd your brain.

You laid still, evening out your breathing. Azriel would take care of it. He would take care of you. 

Your throat closed up a bit thinking about him. 

Your mate. He was your mate. That golden thread weaved its way through the tapestry of your lives, tying the two of you together. 

He was here. 

If Azriel died, you weren’t sure how you’d go on. 

You watched him, his wings spread out wide in a display of dominance, his shadows wrapped around Keir holding him down.

How did he carry on without you? Did he know that you were still alive, a tiny thread of the bond humming in his chest, just enough to tell him to keep going?

You were woozy, opting to lay on the rug to try to keep the room from spinning so much when you felt Azriel sitting near your head, gently lifting your own head to place in his lap.

“How did you get here so quickly?” Your words had a slight slur to them, trying very hard to get them out. You didn’t even have the wherewithal to ask what happened to Keir.

“I traveled through my shadows.”

“What?”

Your memories were still hazy, not everything coming back at once. You had the big things: being Azriel’s mate, Rhysand’s sister, the biggest pain in Cassian’s ass.

“Why didn’t you tell me you can do that?”

He shrugged, “you never asked.”

You tipped your head back laughing, “what a delightfully strange mate I have.”

His eyes practically glowed with little hearts, his voice soft as he asked, “will you say it again?”

You propped yourself up on your elbows, hands wrapping around his leathers to balance yourself as you sat up and leaned in close, your breaths mingling as you whispered, “my mate.”

He crashed his lips into yours, uncaring of the blood on your face as he cradled your cheeks in his hands. It hurt your jaw, but you couldn’t find it in yourself to care. Your lips moved in sync, and you pushed your body into him, crawling further into his lap.You weren’t sure where the tears started and the blood ended, but the kiss was full of a century of waiting and grieving.

He laughed into your mouth and you felt the cool kiss of his shadows roaming around you in excited patterns.

A cough should have startled the two of you, but neither of you paid it any mind until it became louder. Azriel removed a hand from your face, assumingly to flip his middle finger at the intrusion, but you heard a scoff and knew instantly who it was. You pulled away from Azriel, a trail of spit following you as you turned to look at your brother, standing in the doorway, trying to look annoyed.

“I had hoped you would forget this part of your mateship.”

You laughed as Azriel gripped his arms around your waist, pulling you into his chest.

“Nesta gave Cassian head at the dinner table and you’re scolding me for making out with my mate after 150 years?”

You giggled as a shadow bonked Rhys in the head, his eyes rolling. You scrambled, trying to remove yourself from Azriel’s grip, but he simply held on longer.

“Az.”

“Okay, fine. You get five minutes.”

You ungracefully stood up, running towards Rhys, jumping into his arms as he spun you around. He made a soft oof as your weight collided with him, but he spun the two of you until he slid in the blood on the floor, the two of you falling to the floor.

You were a mess of giggles as you landed next to Azriel, your mate pulling you back into his arms. 

“That wasn’t five minutes.”

“Injury makes the clock run out.”

Azriel laid his chin on the top of your head, your back to his chest, as you watched Rhysand sit up.

“Less than thrilled to know Keir had some hand in all of this. And that my clothes are now covered in your blood.” He looked down, disdain on his face at his black suit being ruined. “But I am thrilled that with Keir’s death, I can appoint someone new to run the Court of Nightmares.”

You rolled your eyes. “I just came back to life and you already want tosend me back there.”

Rhys gave a pointed look. “Not you. You’d destroy the place in a week.” 

Your eyes changed quickly from amusement to annoyance directed at your brother. “I have a bone to pick with you.”

“You have your memories back for all of five minutes, nearly murdered, and you want to scold me?”

You rolled your eyes, “of course I do. Now I can speak freely because I know you’re my dumb brother. Illyria sucks!”

You punched his arm, causing him to wince at the contact. “Illyria’s awful! The males are garbage, the females do everything, make it better!” Your last words were accented with hitting him on the head.

“But they-”

“You’re in charge! Do something. Or get Feyre to. She seems to be the brain between the two of you.”

Azriel’s hand softly gripped your jaw, turning you to face towards him. “How about you and I spend some time to ourselves while Rhys fixes Illyria?”

You heard Rhys’s grumbling as he stood and walked out of the tavern, making his displeasure known, but it didn’t matter to you. You were wrapped in the arms of your mate, thanking the Mother for that river.

“Come on, Az, at least dip your feet in the river. It’s shallow here.”

Az rolled his eyes, but removed his shoes and socks, rolling up his trouser legs before walking across the river bed to meet you. The water was cold over his feet, a soft gasp from him as he made his way to you.

“I will never understand your obsession with rivers. You can’t feel them, at least I can’t.”

You smiled, “I just like them. They keep going. They get you where you need to be.”

“Maybe if you’re in a canoe, perhaps. But how will you get back to where you came from?”

You shrugged, “you don’t. There’s no way back. Rivers keep going, and we keep going. We’ll just figure out where to go.”

Author’s note: the end 😭😭 I hope you guys liked it 🫶🏻 I really enjoyed this series and I hope you guys did too!! Thank you to everyone who commented frequently, you guys give me life to keep posting mwah mwah 😘

Permanent taglist: @vanilla-seabass @cyrygher @lees-chaotic-brain @topaz125 @chessebookgirl @fides25 @lady-of-tearshed @ashbatz @fxckmiup @lilah-asteria @justvibbinghere @daughterofthemoons-stuff @mybestfriendmademe @heartless-tate @tsunami-of-tears @idrkwhatthisisimsorry @olive-main @azrielsmate3 @pit-and-the-pen @durgenyx @dee-writes-smut @chairofchaos @thelov3lybookworm @berryzxx @throneofsmut @kennedy-brooke @prythianpages @itsswritten @acotarxreader @milswrites @the-golden-jhope @hannzoaks @secretlyhers @tothestarsandwhateverend @sarawritestories @chxosangxl

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[tastesousweet]

⭒ the other woman

christopher sturniolo x poc!reader

summary: an angsty story of regret and selfishness told through different moments in time

warnings: alternate universe (takes place in the early 2000s bcs i’m obsessed), angst, implied sex, cigarettes, cheating (with, not on y/n)

a/n: hiiii srry for ghosting u guys again :/ i finally have motivation to write again!!! send in blurb or one shot ideas pls. unfortunately im putting tgwtt on hold for right now bc i feel writing that series takes so much out of me and i end up not enjoying anything i write. i hope u understand & im sorry to those who enjoy it! anyways i hope this is well received since it’s a bit different than my other works — lowkey tuned into my inner sally rooney bc her angst HITS . luv u baiiii

★ march 2004

there’s a vile and shameful look to you that you’re not so sure you’ve hidden well enough.

your stomach feels overweight and heavy with an extreme amount of pain bubbling and stabbing your insides whenever they decide to pop.

you clutch at the edge of the bathroom sink, staring at your figure and aching eyes (you added some dark eyeliner into your routine hoping to distract from your disdainful mood but you’re starting to think you may have drawn more attention with the dramatic look).

you suck your stained bottom lip into your mouth out of comfort or maybe a need for something to hold as you move to dig for the pack of slightly crumpled cigarettes in your small, wine-red purse.

the door handle begins to rattle unnervingly just as you spark the slim stick to life.

you comically still yourself in your exact position (bent over odd and cupping your hand around the cig as if there was any sudden wind to blow out your flame in your friend's classy bathroom).

"y/n? you in here?!"

your eyes widen first, before they eventually roll. you wave your hands around to cut through the plumes of clogged smoke in the quaint room.

“y/n!”

“someone’s in here!” you reply, taking another puff of smoke and adjusting your hair a bit in the mirror.

“you gonna open up for me?”

“ummm,” you sputter through the cigarette held in your mouth as you adjust your strapless dress with both hands in the mirror.

“y/n.”

you let out a soft groan and quickly smash the cigarette a few times against the french vanilla ceramic sink bowl, throwing what's left of it in the trash. you practically shove yourself against the tiny wall space to the side of the door as you inch it open enough for the two of you to gain a full view of each other.

you smile, “chris.”

★ december 2003

they say the holidays are worst when spent alone.

and despite having three siblings and parents who’d want nothing more than to spend their christmas eve with their son, chris has always preferred to spend the holidays with a beautiful girl — in hopes that she’d gift him the intoxicating feeling of her thighs tightly trapping his face by the end of the night.

so it’s shocking that he’s at your door step, dressed in a suave, ribbed white long sleeve, dark blue jeans, and somehow caught without one of his usual hats slouched on top of his head of fawn hair.

and it’s real fucking odd that you answer the door wearing a dress that fits you extremely well, paired with a cardigan to keep some modesty.

it’s so very weird given that chris has his girlfriend of over a year texting him another apology for abandoning their plans together to visit her family in wisconsin as you both share an intimate hug on your porch.

you try not to think it’s so unnatural for you and chris to go out for dinner, despite the fact that everyone in your small town knows he has a girlfriend who’s notably quite the opposite of you.

thank goodness chris keeps some casualty — leaving you to open your own door when climbing into his beloved truck.

★ february 2004

“okay, um, this is something you can eat and there’s, like, a million types- you like granny smith!”

“oo, apples!”

chris nods excitedly and flips to the next card, “it’s my favorite meal of the day.”

“breakfast!”

“yes, you’re perfect. alright this is casper the friendly-”

“ghost!”

“amazing! ‘kay, i’m always complaining that mine isn’t stiff enough.”

“your dick?” josh jokes.

“fuck off, josh! i’m more than capable…” chris laughs.

“gross! chris?!”

“what?! don’t make it a biggie. now hurry ‘n gimme that answer baby, please?”

“well i’m guessing it’s your mattress?!”

“you have 7 seconds!” nick says while intensely staring at the tiny hourglass.

chris gives an encouraging hand motion for her to continue on that path.

“ummm… your bed?!”

“yes! that’s what i’m talking about!” chris shoots up from his position, on the ground in front of the coffee table, and immediately picks liv up from the couch in celebration.

the group let out plenty of laughs and giggles at the fear in her eyes as she’s lifted up and down excitedly.

cassie yells out, “aw yay mom and dad!” when chris sets her down and kisses her lips.

you try to control your face. your eyes flicker over and see them smiling with their faces so close together. and it drives you a little mad that whatever chris whispered to make her burst into laughter can’t be heard from your spot across the couch, especially not when there are so many conversations going on at once.

it’s just a game. you have no right to be jealous. it’s fucking taboo.

you clear your throat and uncross your legs as you begin to leave from the leather couch, “matt and josh, you can go before me- i’m just gonna grab some water.”

★ march 2004

“smoking cigs again?” chris asks as he steps into the bathroom.

“no,” you lie, resting your hip against the edge of the counter.

he knows you’re lying but doesn’t bother to pressure the truth out of you, he’s not your father. or your boyfriend at that.

“are you doing okay?” he pauses and waits for you to acknowledge him.

you don’t.

he clears his throat, “you look beautiful in this,” he tugs your dress down showing off the cleavage you’d just got done hiding.

“‘m all good,” you answer his initial question while exaggerating a smile.

chris mindlessly nods his head and somehow gets even closer to you, to the point where you have to tilt your head just the slightest bit to make eye contact.

“can i kiss you?” he asks with a genuine glimmer of generosity in his eyes and tone; as if he wanted you to want it more than he wants it himself.

you’re silent. he holds your neck gently and raises his other hand to drag your large bottom lip downward, cooing a tease, “hmmm..?”

you whine a little to yourself — this can’t happen again.

“yes?” chris mocks a little, giving a squeeze to your neck, “say it.”

your eyes droop and suddenly the ache of pain and guilt melts down to a slush of excitement and warmth both inside and evidently outside, if the stickiness of your lace underwear says anything. you nod your head.

chris is so obsessed with your mouth, his thumb doesn't move from your bottom lip as you peek your tongue out to wet it, "yes, please." your words echo off of his lips that now practically hover yours.

even though you've used your manners you manage to deliver it as a command. and it doesn't help that you paired the sentence with your hands running up the hot skin underneath his dark shirt. his mouth hangs slightly ajar as his head nods softly once more and his eyes flicker over your pretty face.

you wait for his response before your eyes lock onto his and you pout, "i thought you wanted to kiss me, chris?"

★ december 2003

“that’s hot,” chris mumbles as he kicks his legs over eachother and stretches out on the longest part of your L - shaped, funky-green couch.

“what is?” you ask as you return to the living room, popcorn cradled in an oversized bowl against your waist.

“pamala anderson,” chris jokingly moans out, biting his bottom lip and covering his lower half with one of your fuzzy throw pillows.

“gross, you perv!” you throw a handful of popcorn at his face — that’s stretched into an adorable smile — and take a seat next to him.

“baywatch reruns are all that nbc play anymore,” you squint with a sigh, taking a swig of the cool bottle of beer chris requested before handing it to him.

“they lost the best thing to ever happen to ‘em, i’d milk that shit too.” he then takes a sip, smirking when a desperate pamala anderson begins to run in slow motion on your fuzzy box television.

“what would liv think of you drooling over some baywatch tits?”

“what would liv think of me replacing her with you for my christmas eve dinner?”

you can’t help but think that ‘replacing’ is possibly the meanest word he could have used.

he smiles and gives a soft laugh when your face doesn’t respond, “joking- don’t spaz on me now…” he rolls his eyes from you back to the screen in front of you.

you swallow and adjust your legs to sit underneath you, trying to get comfortable while remaining in your small red dress.

★ march 2004

“never again,” you remind chris and yourself as you step into your once discarded underwear.

chris nods his head a few times, replying when he finally catches his breath, “right.”

“okay,” you slip your dress back on and chris redresses himself away from you.

chris slowly comes up behind you, kissing your shoulder once and hugging you gently. you want to cry — because in any other circumstance you’d embrace this feeling. but you can’t help but feel dirty.

he whispers with his head buried in the side of your crowded neck, “you know your my best friend, right? i love you.”

and you can’t help the shivers and sobs that decide to escape from your sad, used body.

“shhhh,” he apologizes, “i’m sorry.”

★ december 2003

chris imagined having sex with you plenty of times before — figuring most guys have thought of it with all of their girl friends, at least his friends made it seem true.

though his imagination could never ever live up to your whines and the way your body effortlessly takes him as you bounce yourself on top of him.

you both knew this was a bad idea, it was bad before you ended up back at your place after dinner. chris is an admittedly horny drunk and you’re no better so sharing a few beers while sitting so close to each other was bound to backfire.

only in the morning would some ounce of guilt and regret wash over him, when he’d listen to the cheerful voicemail his unknowing girlfriend left him while he was busy with his fingers in your mouth.

★ november 2004

chris hasn’t spoken to you since you came clean to liv about your disloyalty, six months ago.

he yelled and cried at your doorstep. he told you that you ruined his entire life, that he never wants to see you again.

you convince yourself you never want to see him again, but you tend to miss him in the loneliest times. when you’re sat awake in your dark bedroom.

you still miss his voice and his face.