#the scene is so breathtakingly beautiful

[itachanta]

"Thank you, Meryl. I heard your voice, too"

[spiteful-crow]

𝐈𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐡, 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐨𝐟 𝐮𝐬 𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐤 𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞.

[empty-dream]

Fate/Grand Order Memorial Movie 2023: Beyond the Tale

[chrollogy]

SILKEN WEB

— chrollo lucilfer x f!reader x hisoka morow

syn: Hisoka’s ‘generosity’ allows Chrollo to fuck you in front of him after he’s seen the way the latter has looked at you. Though, the redhead cannot help but join in on the fun despite being the cuck—he has his ways, he always does.

18+ MDNI; explicit smut, porn without plot, cuckolding, voyeurism, threesome, creampie unprotected sex, multiple orgasms (f & m), anal (f), masturbation (m), edging, overstimulation, hisoka uses bungee gum, chrollo might be pining over reader, not beta read.

word count: 2.8k

notes: divider: cafekitsune. the fruit of my late night thoughts nod nod. as per poll results, here’s hisoka as the cuck :3

Fantasizing—a children’s pastime, a mere way to escape from one’s gruelling reality but Chrollo Lucilfer would be lying to himself if he deemed he wasn’t immune to it. Oh, he certainly wasn’t without a doubt; the root of all his wildest dreams, and twisted carnal desires was none other than the woman beneath him, all in her serene nakedness—you.

So breathtakingly exquisite—the epitome of beauty. From the lust-clouded gaze that complimented the colour of your eyes all the way to the dulcet tone of your breaths, this was sinful heaven for Chrollo. Sinful not because of the sharp pleasure kissing down his spine but simply because you weren’t his, and he wasn’t yours. Not lovers, not friends, mere acquaintances, and your heart was reserved for none other than a member of the Troupe he led.

But that never stopped Chrollo from fantasizing about you, about this. Ever the observant fighter, it didn’t take long for Hisoka to catch the former’s lingering stares on you—albeit, as blank as a sheet of paper—whenever he paraded you around. One of the biggest telling signs was that Chrollo had never uttered a word regarding your presence whenever you sat there during their meetings despite the other members’ dismay.

Of course, once something piqued Hisoka’s curiosity, he wouldn’t let go until a solid answer was handed to him on a silver platter. It was a short exchange between the two males, a few sharp retorts from Hisoka’s end but nonetheless, it led to this lewd scene. Per the magician’s words, he gave Chrollo permission to do whatever he pleased to you—to fuck, to make love, to get lost in eye-rolling pleasure within your very walls but only if he got to watch everything unfold.

From the intimate act of undressing, and peeling of clothes all the way to a passionate climax that was sure to vex his very bones, Hisoka was to watch it all.

Faint squeaks of the bed frame paired with yours, and Chrollo’s heated gasps filled every corner of the room; his thrusts were deep, and rapid, body intimately flushed against your own which absolutely left no room for coherent words to come out—with the way his cockhead repeatedly prodded your sweet spot, strings of broken whimpers, and low moans were the best you could muster.

Sex wasn’t something you were foreign with but the ungodly rhythm of Chrollo’s hips was enough to make you feel like a virgin again begging for more, more, more, nothing but pleasure engrained inside your mind, clawing, and running after that blissful sensation.

Chrollo was different from Hisoka, he handled you with the utmost gentleness but that didn’t take away the fact that he pounded you oh-so-passionately into the ivory mattress beneath. On the other hand, Hisoka was rough, and animalistic—purely driven by his wild carnal desires. 

Chrollo’s sweat-lined forehead rested against yours, face mere centimetres from your own as your breaths intertwined in a vulgar dance. The hearts of his palms captured your trembling hands in a firm hold, pinning them on either side of your head, and used as leverage to drive his cock deeper into your sopping cunt—as deep as his desires went for you.

He closed his eyes at the feel of your walls clenching around him, jaw tightening as electric pleasure shot up his spine, “F-fuck . .” God, you felt divine, Chrollo truly wanted to keep you to himself. He could treat you so much better than Hisoka—have you reach new heights of pleasure you’ve never experienced before.

Alas, that was out of the picture, Chrollo would have to settle for the mere intimacy of fucking you beneath these ivory covers, the same ones you, and Hisoka retire under after a long, tiring day. The duvet draped loosely across Chrollo’s back, mirroring a broken angel’s wings, and with the eager thrusts of his hips, it slowly slipped downwards. It was hot, and stuffy beneath the weight of the blanket but he’d do anything to keep the lewd intimacy from a pair of prying eyes.

That’s right, Hisoka sat on a chair not too far off the foot of the bed, an unamused expression plastered on his face but the growing tent between his spreaded legs hinted far from unamused.

Sure, the pornographic sounds bouncing off the walls had his cock hardening but Hisoka was deprived. He clicked his tongue, the sharp sound was enough to reel Chrollo out of his pleasured state followed by a stutter in his thrusts. “I’m glad you’re having fun, Chrollo but I said to give me a show, didn’t I?” What was Hisoka supposed to do with your bodies tucked beneath the covers? 

His view was nothing but the top half of Chrollo’s naked back, and the covers moving along with the latter’s thrusts, other than that, it left everything to Hisoka’s imagination. Of course, he wasn’t going to let it be, not after he generously let Chrollo fuck you like this.

With a swift flick of his index finger, the rubbery bright pink aura extended from the tip of his digit all the way to the ivory covers atop Chrollo’s naked back, attaching itself onto the fabric. A smirk crept its way up to Hisoka’s face as he pulled the covers down, exposing the way your naked bodies intimately tangled with one another.

A rather surprised gasp left your lips as the cool air hugged your fervent body, leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake. Naturally, this had also caught Chrollo off guard but didn’t let on, instead, the raven haired male responded by drilling his hips at a much faster pace, pulling a string of broken moans from your throat which only fuelled the excitement embedded in Hisoka’s chest.

Light amber eyes fixated where you and Chrollo met, Hisoka intently watched as the former’s cock disappeared, and reappeared between your coated slit—not to mention the light sheen of your essence around Chrollo’s cock, causing it to glimmer beneath the afternoon rays that seeped through the windows. Now, this was what Hisoka wanted to see—you, and Chrollo all in your filthy glory.

The feeling of blood rapidly rushing down to his cock, and the familiar tingle between his legs made Hisoka’s citrine gaze roll back, not to mention the growing delight on his face—it was anything but an innocent look. Lewd, wet sounds that were once muffled beneath the ivory duvet now reached Hisoka’s ears like an unholy melody; the constant skin slapping, the mixture of high, and low moans—the impurity of it all, your lover revelled in it.

Sounds of the redhead’s shameless pornographic moans intertwined with your own, and Chrollo’s as he teased himself through the fabric of his pants. Excitement shocked every part of his body like electricity, rendering him sensitive to anything, and everything—it was the same sensation as the extreme bloodlust he felt whenever he thirsted for battle.

Chrollo quietly clicked his tongue, not bothering to glance back at Hisoka in annoyance. He needed to focus on you. And he did. Without compromising the pace of his hips, Chrollo hooked his fingers beneath the back of your right knee, and deftly slung your whole leg atop his shoulder. The deeper angle of his cock had your back arching, your hands scrambled for his taut biceps to claw, and dig into as he pushed you further, and further into the borders of insanity.

“C-Chrollo! Fuck—right there! Just like that—haah!”

He let out a low groan as your nails marked him up, leaving streaks of bright red on his skin. By the looks of it, he wasn’t going to last much longer with the way your cunt gripped him like a vice. Nonetheless, Chrollo’s pace didn’t let up despite the resistance of your walls, albeit, it had his legs quivering, and breath hitching—god, Hisoka was so fucking lucky to have this, to have you.

Chrollo closed his eyes, and parted his lips to make way for soft pants, he focused his entire body in chasing yours, and his pleasure, basking in the ultimate bliss his body was currently experiencing.

Yes. Yes. Ye—

“She likes—haah! She likes taking it from behind—ngh!” The raven haired male shot his eyes open at the sound of Hisoka’s wanton voice, the concentration he once held faltering just a bit from the sudden noise.

Despite Chrollo’s better judgement, he hauled you into the position like a mere ragdoll, deftly handling your limp body with equal amounts of roughness, and gentleness. Though, your arms violently shook, and gave out as soon as Chrollo re-entered your cunt. With your torso flush against the ivory sheets, your lower half remained in position—easier for him to drive his cock deeper; you swore you could feel him in your throat.

The redhead let out a low chuckle, eager hands messily pulling his pants down to free his hard cock; Hisoka sighed at the lack of restraint, and threw his head back, exposing the length of his neck. 

With the new position, Chrollo returned to the pace he had set earlier, heavy balls slapping against your clit from each hard thrust. Skin against skin burned like a searing blaze but god did it feel amazing, not to mention how it stimulated your sensitive bud in all the right ways.

Chrollo curled over himself to place wet open-mouthed kisses down the length of your spine, moaning low saccharine praises in between. He pushed, and pushed into your sopping cunt until the coil deep in your stomach violently snapped. With a loud moan of his name muffled against the damp sheets, your back arched as you came around Chrollo—muscles taut, and knuckles a shade of ivory while pleasure gnawed at your skin.

Hisoka unabashedly fisted at his cock, one hand focused on pleasuring himself while the other sunk into the plush of the armchair. He matched the pace of his hand to Chrollo’s hips, imagining that it was your cunt instead of his palm, albeit, your velvety walls absolutely compared to nothing. Oh well, he’ll get a taste of you one way or another.

It didn’t take long for Chrollo to follow suit, driving his hips a couple more times before completely pulling out, and blowing his entire load on your bare back. He let out a shameless moan of your name—the loudest one he’s let out. Thick, milky ribbons of Chrollo’s cum unceremoniously painted your skin white, and all he could do was stare at it in a haze while his chest heaved up, and down.

On the other hand, Hisoka gave himself a few more rough pumps before squeezing the base of his leaking cock, lustily letting out a hiss as the pleasure he’d worked so hard for slowly dissipated. He cursed in between rough pants—the hunger for a sweet release just grew tenfold after depriving himself of an orgasm.

Hisoka had something better in mind than cumming on his hand.

“I guess it’s my turn.” Strong, muscular legs slightly quivered with every step taken towards the bed, cock standing proudly against his abdomen. Chrollo only narrowed his eyes at Hisoka, clearly displeased by his sudden initiative.

The former returned a smile, “Oh, don’t get greedy now, Chrollo. I’ll give you two choices—” He held out two long digits. “Either you sit, and watch or join in on the fun.”

Never in a million years would Chrollo even think to engage in a threesome with you, and Hisoka. He didn’t know what bothered him more, the fact that you were the latter’s lover or the fact that he was on the same bed as Hisoka. Nonetheless, here he was balls deep inside your ass, completely unhindered by inhibitions. Hisoka cursed at the feel of your wet cunt, biting his lips at the lewd sound it made as your hot cum coated his cock.

The redhead laid flat on his back, cunt wrapped around him while you straddled his lap which left Chrollo to take care of your backside. Your body remained slumped against Hisoka’s—limp, and quivering as if one wrong move would have you exploding to bits. Could you really blame yourself? Both men stretched you out like it was their sole purpose, it did nothing but put your body under immense pleasure.

You were sandwiched between Hisoka, and Chrollo as though mimicking a mere fly caught in a spider’s silken web, unable to escape. And that usually meant one thing: to wait for one’s impending doom before the ruthless arachnid strikes.

An experimental thrust of their hips had you wailing in pleasure. Having not given enough time to come down from your high, you were still too sensitive—any form of sexual stimulation immediately had your body uncontrollably shaking, and hot tears lining your eyes. Hisoka cupped your jaw with both hands, lifting your face in front of his own before closing the distance; heated, and rough just how he liked it; the redhead didn’t hesitate shoving his tongue past your lips, intimately exploring the inside of your mouth with the wet muscle.

If anything, the messy kiss was enough to distract you from the sudden rough pistoning of their hips—Hisoka gleefully swallowed your wanton moans, and relished at the burning sensation of your nails scratching down his bare chest. The bed creaked under the weight of their merciless thrusts with the headboard atop Hisoka’s head repeatedly banging the wall behind it; these sounds mixed with the lewd melody the three of you produced filled all four corners of the room.

It was funny, anyone would think that a Hisoka, and Chrollo tandem would be a match made in hell; highly volatile once paired together which would result in utter chaos but this—the two moved in perfect unison as though they shared one mind, one ideal. Even only if it was for this moment that they saw one another eye to eye, a wordless union to bring you to another orgasm.

A thin, translucent string of saliva connected your lips to Hisoka’s as he pulled away for a breather, hot breaths mingling with one another as you panted in eachother's face. A sense of pride bloomed across his crimson-marked chest as he watched your lust-filled eyes roll to the back of your head—Hisoka always had a thing for your expressions during sex, it served as fuel to keep going, to keep fucking you.

You looked beautiful bouncing on their cocks, head falling forward while taking their entire length like a champ; the only thing you could really do was grip onto Hisoka’s shoulders, and moan for your dear life. Chrollo couldn’t help but fixate on the way your ass jolted with every thrust, even just the sight of his cock disappearing, and reappearing between the globes of your ass had his head spinning.

It didn’t take long for you to reach yet another orgasm, and this time, it was more intense than the previous one; hot tears ran down your damp cheeks as your body convulsed from pleasure, a drawn out moan of their names combined scratched at your throat. As though he was punched in the gut, Chrollo curled over himself as you clenched around his cock, and attached his lips on your right shoulder, biting down hard at the bare skin.

Hisoka muttered sweet nothings while stroking your hair, amusement filling his tone; you laid there drowning in pleasure while both men remained chasing their own bliss, hips stuttering. It was filthy, and soaking wet where Chrollo, and Hisoka entered you, arousal mixed with your cum messily dripping down the latter’s balls, and onto the sheets beneath.

Chrollo’s digits dug into your skin, he sheathed his cock all the way inside your ass before emptying all his cum inside; he rode out his orgasm by grinding his hips, earning a dainty gasp of his name. Chrollo violently shuddered before releasing your skin from his teeth, he lapped, and kissed at the marks, helping ease the painful sensation he left.

This left Hisoka to firmly plant his feet on the mattress, and thrust upwards which sent your body bouncing once more; short gasps turned into full blown wanton moans as his cockhead repeatedly kissed your sweet spot, bringing your body into overstimulation. Hisoka groaned loudly as the familiar feeling at the pit of his stomach returned, you could tell he was close from the way his fingers gripped your waist with such desperation.

Strings of colourful curses left your lover’s throat as he came inside you, ribbons of his thick essence filling your walls all the way to the brim ‘til it leaked out, and dripped down his balls.

Heavy pants filled the room, the smell of sinful sex hung heavy in the air. The three of you remained still for a moment to catch your breaths but the short time also allowed your minds to clear of lust, and for the whole situation to actually settle in—of what the three of you just did.

Though, it was safe to say that Chrollo wasn’t going to let you escape from his hold any time soon—as though he had you entangled in bands of swathing silk—especially after finally getting a taste of you.

—

affiliated with @houseofsolisoccasum & @pixelcafe-network !

[theeveninghour]

All My Dreaming

Summary: You came to the Night Court as a fugitive and quickly became a valued member of the Inner Circle. Azriel’s love for you has burned brightly in his chest for nearly two centuries now, but when an unknown force threatens to take you from him, he must fight to keep you at his side.

Pairing: Azriel x Winter Court!Reader

A/N: I don’t use Y/N here just out of personal preference, but the IC do call reader “Little One” because she’s younger than them by like a century or so. Also, slight timeline deviation? I kind of just made the ACOTAR timeline work for me a little bit but the important bits are there mostly. If it’s not totally accurate, please suspend your disbelief and go with it. I also took some serious liberties with Prythian geography and Azriel’s shadows in this. I had to force myself to stop because I could’ve written five more scenes, so let me know if you all want a part two. I got nasty Azriel thots to spare, baby! 

WC: 16.1k  ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

TW: 18+, Minors DNI, violence, death, descriptive gore, lots of time jumps, torture, smut, p in v, fingering, porn with plot, mating, slow burn, angst, friends to lovers, declarations of love, loving sexy times, miscommunications abound, Azriel being a big ole softie, Azriel being a big ole bitch to bad men, Azriel really going tf thru it emotionally, and Azriel being mouthy as fuck. Just girly things. 

Part 2

Azriel hadn’t seen you in four days. Nearly a week had passed since you’d left. Rhys mentioned a mission but no additional details, Cassian avoided the topic, knowing how frustrated his brother got when you were gone, and Feyre was decidedly unhelpful the few times he’d brought you up. His shadows searched aimlessly, they’d found nothing as far south as Winter Court, daring not venture into Autumn, and knowing damn well you’d never step foot into Spring. You were slowly driving him mad; the bond in his chest aching at the loss. Even if you hadn’t recognized the golden thread linking the two of you, he felt it. 

Gods, did he feel it. He’d often lay in his bed at night, eyes tracing the intricate foil patterns of the ceiling tiles. When sleep evaded him, as it frequently did, he’d grasp the thread tightly in his minds eye and tug it experimentally, begging you to see, to notice it was him that loved you with a ferocity that rivaled the sun. Try as he might, the responding tug never answered, his call into the void not returning an echo. 

The second it snapped for him, Azriel had resolved himself as unworthy, not of someone like you. You were powerful, breathtakingly beautiful, intimidatingly intelligent, and you regularly brought men to their knees, both in political circles and on the battlefield. Rhys relied on you as much he did Cassian and Az, you were a core member of his court, a valuable asset, and the love of Azriel’s life. Azriel avoided the latter subject entirely, choosing instead to silently stoke the ember in chest with unyielding affection; his own private paramour. 

When you’d joined the Night Court, you’d been on the run from both Winter and Autumn Courts. Your father was a high fae noble in Winter that had attempted to arrange a marriage to the second youngest Vanserra of Autumn. The family’s brutal reputation was legend and you were terrified. You were young then, barely a century old, and upon your introductory visit to the Autumn Court, Beron sought to make an impression by presenting a welcome gift. That gift? The public torture and execution of a servant he’d deemed traitorous. 

His gleaming eyes remained on yours with each cast of the fire whip he’d conjured using his cruel magic. He’d cracked it again and again until blood splattered and the servant was left flayed beyond recognition, flesh searing, and finger tips twitching from the remaining neurons firing in his brain. Only after his death did Beron announce his crimes. He’d stolen a parcel of food from the royal pantry to feed his wife and small child. Your stomach churned at the thought of the now widow and fatherless child waiting at home for the male that would never return. 

It had all been a test to see if you were worthy of the most violent and petulant of the broody sons, and you’d passed, holding Beron’s stare and keeping your back straight as you faced his wrath head on. You’d cried yourself dry in your room that night though, sobs wracking your form until your chest ached, grief for the male that was lost. Fear settled into your heart, terror of the family you were set to marry into. 

You’d ran at first light, leaving with nothing but the clothes on your back. Your Winter white blonde hair streaking across the red and orange forest as you bolted. Beron sent his dogs after you. You still had the scars lining your calves from where they’d gotten too close, brought you down into the dirt, jaws snapping and tearing at the muscly sinew there. But you’d fought. You’d kicked and clawed like a feral child of the woods, screaming with a sense of self preservation you’d never known you possessed. 

Rhysand had found you half dead, starving and a little savage in the mountainous border between the Day and Night Courts. He’d made a bargain with you then; he’d save you, if you worked for him. Word had already spread of the ousted Winter female and spurned Autumn princeling and Rhysand was impressed you’d lasted in the wilds undetected for so long. The small star flecked tattoo of the Velarian night sky that lived on your wrist since was the only evidence of his deal. 

You’d long moved past such a bargain. Rhys had offered to lift it half a dozen times in your first hundred years within his court, but you hadn’t minded. A reminder, you’d insisted, a mark of your loyalty to the family that didn’t lead you the wolves with such glee. 

You’d settled into a routine in Velaris, training with the Illyrian brothers and charming Amren with your intelligence and wit.  But you’d become the closest with Mor, who felt a kinship in your shared traumas. She’d soothed you in those first years, fiercely protecting her friend when Eris Vanserra had shown up in Hewn City as an emissary to inquire on your new position in the Night Court. It was that same night that Azriel realized how fucked he truly was.

Eris smirked at you and your back straightened, face growing cold. He spoke, “My brother was wondering where you’d scampered off to.” A laugh followed, “You couldn’t stomach our court, but found yourself bound to the Court of Nightmares? My my, what a wicked turn of events.” 

Rhysand had spoken then, wearing his High Lord mask well, “Watch yourself, Eris. You know not what our Little One can do.” Eris laughed, the sound laced with the dark spark of a threat. “Little One? Fugitive and Night Court whore, I must tell your father. I’m sure he’ll be proud to hear of his daughter’s fate.” Azriel’s wings pricked, then fluttered, he would’ve killed Eris right then for you. Your hand came to rest on Rhys’ arm as you stepped around the throne to level your accuser with a look that should’ve turned him to stone. 

“I am no male’s whore and I belong to no court except Night. Report what you wish to my father, to your father, your brother. May you all rot.” You’d spat at his feet then, and the room heated twenty degrees, Eris’ barely kept rage simmering under the surface, fire blooming on the fringes of his figure. 

He stepped forward and Cassian, Azriel, and Mor all shifted, prepared to take out the threat. Eris’ eyes tracked their figures, gauging the situation. He knew better. Any attack here would mean war on his court and his father have his hide for that. You stepped forward to meet him, knowing he could make no move without endangering his position. You kept your spine straight and narrowed your gaze at him with such contempt he would’ve been impressed at the show had you been anyone else. 

“I will say this once Eris Vanserra,” you held up one long manicured finger, and Azriel traced the action with thinly veiled obsession. “Leave my court or I will be the one to kill you. I’ll rip your spine from your body and I’ll do it with the same glee in which your father,” you’d spat that word, the hatred you held for Beron burning your throat as the words exited your mouth, “killed that male for feeding his family.” You took a step closer, summoning a dagger in your left hand, and rolling it your palm. “Trust that we have no tolerance for your family or your bullshit in these lands.” 

Eris had good enough sense to step back then, peering around your form to where Rhysand sat, legs spread, slouched in the throne, smirking at your display of dominance. Azriel to his right looked on in pure male satisfaction, you were a powerful little thing and he was rather fond of you in that moment. Eris spoke up, “Should I note that the Night Court threatens other Courts for sport?” Cassian and Azriel rolled their eyes in synchronous fashion, but it was Mor that spoke with the dark edge of a threat, “Only ones that deserve such brutality.” Her father, Kier, stood in the gathered crowd and sneered at the tone of her voice.

You’d done the unthinkable then, winnowing behind Eris, grasping the male by his red hair and dragging the dagger to his neck, digging in enough to cause the male’s heart to speed, a line of scarlet leaking from the press of your blade. You could feel the heat in his skin, the flame licked at your hand as you released him with a shove. 

You brandished your dagger as if it was an extension of your hand, the tip of the silver blade glinting with red from the now healing cut at Eris’ throat. “Come for me again and I’ll kill you.” It was then that Azriel noted the slight tremble in the hand at your right side and he wished on some distant star that he could reach out to you, soothe you, tell you that he was proud and you defended yourself and your court beautifully. 

As if his wish was granted, he felt his chest give way to a canyon of emotion, heart stuttering as the bond fluttered and snapped, thrumming with affection for the female standing at the center of the room. He had selfishly allowed himself to hope it would be you, in the dark of the night when he was alone and his shadows whispered to him of your whereabouts. Since he’d met you, he fostered that small romantic notion of soulmates. His most private desire. 

Eris whirled on you with a roar, grabbing your throat with hands of fire. Azriel felt the breath leave him, and he took two then three steps forward before he could think, hazel eyes alight with a fierceness you’d not yet witnessed. Your eyes found his and you held up your hand to halt his movements, the one that had trembled seconds earlier, now steady as a stone. You’d looked at Eris then, raising your chin defiantly, a slow smile overtaking your face as you once again spit at the Autumn male before winnowing back to your place in front of the dais. Rhysand raised to his feet then, taking steps down to meet you. His hand grazed your arm this time and his mind reached out, “Very good, Little One, very good.” 

“As the lady said, Eris, come to my court in search of her again, and she’ll be the one to kill you.” Rhys circled Eris, tracking like prey. “But not before I sanction it for laying your hands on a member of my house.” Rhysand spoke with such quiet cunning, it was no wonder he excelled as High Lord. Eris snarled then before winnowing out of the Hewn City and Azriel quickly set his shadows to following him, ensuring he was actually gone. 

You returned to Mor’s side and the shameless pride that set on your face the rest of the night made Azriel want to kiss you. Gods, he was fucked.. 

You’d flirted with him constantly in the first century you’d been in Velaris. You had laid it on thick too, dragging a long nail up his arm, your mouth sliding into a smirk after one too many drinks at Rita’s. Azriel had always feigned friendly indifference though, a mask he slipped on that was equal parts protection as it was self soothing. His only crack coming in the form of a slight tremble in his pinky as he tried to gather himself to avoid closing the space between you, touching, grasping, feeling.

He’d worn black leather gloves around you in your first few decades with them. His hands always held the most insecurity for him, the silver scars and warped skin a brutal reminder of his childhood. It was after training one day, as you all packed your small bags and threw towels into bins that you’d asked about it. 

“I don’t mean to pry, and feel free to tell me to fuck off, but why the gloves?” You asked quietly leaning against a wall less than ten feet from him. He’d stiffened and breathed tightly, “it helps with the work.” That had always been his excuse, wearing gloves when killing helped reduce the touch memories associated with the act, and it was partially true. But he wasn’t on a mission right now, and you called him on that, “are you spying right now?” Your lips quirked, “should I tell Rhys?” Your words were mirthful, but your eyes held nothing but empathy for the Shadowsinger, sometimes Azriel wondered if that was your Cauldron blessed gift. 

You’d reached down then, rolling up the left leg of your training leathers. You’d resumed your full height and rotated your calf outward for his eyes to survey the damage there. Ragged silver keloid scars marked the skin from your ankle to the soft back of your knee— a knee he’d admittedly fantasized about many nights in a row now. He’d selfishly thought about trailing kisses up your leg, pausing to nip playfully at the soft skin at your knee as he made his way north, up your thigh. He breathed deeply banishing those thoughts as he took in the site of your marred skin. Judging by the heavily keratinized markings, the injury had no doubt been painful when incurred originally. Azriel’s fingers twitched again, wanting to touch your face, hold you as he kissed away your grief. 

“From Beron’s dogs,” you breathed, rolling you shoulders, as if shaking the memory from your mind. “They wouldn’t heal when I was out there,” you clicked your tongue, “granted I was starving,” you sighed, “but that’s a story for another day.” You looked at him then, and he had to steady himself at the emotions pooling in your eyes. 

He’d already planned on killing Beron if the opportunity presented for what had happened with Mor, but for you, he’d make it hurt. He’d drag it out and make it slow. He’d torture him for days, flaying skin from bone, taking fingers then limbs and when at last he begged for death, Azriel would set the dogs on him and laugh as they tore him apart. He felt a long repressed need for vengeance creep up his spine, and he hated to acknowledge what its presence meant in regards to you.

“It’s okay, you know,” you’d said, head lolling to the side as you watched him, eyes swimming with a gentle affection, “I’ll never judge you for something like that.” Azriel squeezed his eyes shut as he turned his head from you and breathed in tightly. How did always manage to be so fucking disarming and vulnerable? That must’ve been a gift too.

He pinched the middle finger of the right glove and pulled it from his hand, grasping his now exposed fingers into a fist, knuckles cracking. He extended that arm out, palm up as he let you view his deepest insecurity, the thing he hated most in his appearance. 

You’d stepped forward, looking at his palm. Your hands went to reach but you’d paused, looking to his eyes as you silently asked permission to touch. He nodded stiffly, watching you with the same intensity of an animal being hunted, prey ready to bolt at any moment. 

Your fingers touched his hand, and he felt the connection race up his arm and to his chest, settling in his heart. Your eyes studied, and you rotated his hand, fingers gently tracing from his wrist, to knuckle, to fingernail in reverence. You covered his hand with your own, moving your eyes to his hazel ones. “Are they dead?” You’d asked seriously, and he stuttered a shocked laugh. “Yes, Little One, they are,” he answered, a small smile playing at his mouth. The two of you far too similar it seemed. “Good,” you’d said simply before kissing his knuckles and pulling the glove back on for him. The action was quietly intimate, and Azriel should’ve kissed you then. Mother knows he considered it, eyes watching you with rapt attention as his heart sped up and breathing shallowed. 

“If you two are done flirting, lunch is ready,” Cassian announced from the doorway, breaking the spell you were both under. You’d jumped and laughed freely at the large male smirking at the entrance. You grasped Azriel’s hand tightly in affection before releasing it to turn on your heel to exit the room, passing by Cass with an eye roll, thumping him square in the chest.

Cassian looked to his brother as he walked into the room and his face split into a shit eating grin. “Let’s go, loverboy,” he said, crossing his arms over his chest. Azriel glared, scoffing as he followed behind you, praying to whatever Gods were listening that he’d get you alone again soon. 

In your second century with the Night Court, you’d lessened the blatant flirting and settled into loving, easy friendship. You regularly attended balls and galas in Hewn City, fitting into such pomp with practiced ease, but always with a dagger strapped to your thigh, ready to cut a male down in seconds. Those events were almost routine at this point: Azriel would save you a dance, and you’d move together in a slow ritual that you’d both perfected over the years, he’d bow as the violinist played their final note and resume his place on dais at Rhys’ right. His eyes would follow you the rest of the night, as you spoke in an airy manner to various high fae, glaring at any male whose hands ventured too close to his mate. 

Nights when the Court held parties at the House of Wind were different though. You were far less rigid, finding it easy to exist without scrutiny. Those were the nights Azriel’s eyes rarely left your form as he watched obsessively from the corners of the room. 

“You’re staring,” Rhys chimed from his place next to Azriel, eyes not leaving the crowd as he spoke to the Shadowsinger, mouth smirking. Azriel was staring. You’d worn cobalt blue tonight, a lovely color on your skin. His color on your skin. Mother above, the male possessiveness that crawled up his spine was unreal. Mate, mate, mate, his shadows had sang in his ear. He wanted to pluck the eyes from every male in the room for even glancing in your direction. He wanted so much more than that too. Your breathy sighs as he marked you, your moan as he made you come undone, his name crying from your lips as he ate his come from your cunt after. Azriel had a million and one scenarios running through his head. He yearned to make each one of them come to fruition too.

He hadn’t answered Rhysand, so the High Lord tried again, “you really should tell her, but please,” Rhys closed his eyes with a grimace, “quiet your thoughts first, for Cauldron’s sake.” That got Azriel’s attention, his back straightening and mental shield slamming down. His eyes squeezed shut, almost as if he was in pain. “I cannot burden her with that now,” he said, “not with war at our doorstep.” Indeed, the second war with Hybern creeped ever closer, disappearances of other high fae occurring daily. Whatever they were planning across the sea, it was going to bring Prythian to its knees. 

Rhysand sighed then, feeling older than his 500 years. “Be that as it may, we should hold those we love tighter.” Rhysand looked to Feyre at that moment, his eyes meeting his mate’s, as he sent a strum of warm affection down the bond. She smiled and returned it cheerily. He turned back to Azriel, “if it all ends tomorrow, I know my love and she knows me. That’s all we can ask for in this immortal life.” Azriel looked back to you, and your eyes were already on him, tracing the shadows that wound around his chest. You met his eyes and winked, before turning back to Mor and laughing freely.  

“I thank the Cauldron daily it was you that found her in those mountains, Rhys.” Azriel spoke quietly, admitting a small secret he’d not told anyone. Rhysand softened, and clapped his friend on the shoulder, “As I am, brother.” Azriel nodded, letting the conversation die between himself and the High Lord as he drained the drink in his hand and moved down the steps in your direction. 

You’d been in conversation with Mor when he approached. She was telling you of the seamstress she’d been seeing, and how happy she was. Azriel cleared his throat from behind the two of you and you turned to meet him, taking in his appearance with wide eyes. “Ladies,” he started, bowing to you and Mor, who snorted at the silly formality. “And that note, I’ll be taking my leave. I’ve got a lady to see,” she said with a wink and a flourish of her red dress. You laughed and shook your head before turning back to the Shadowsinger. He’d caught you staring earlier and your heart had nearly jumped into your throat, before Mor mocked you lightly, diffusing the tension. 

“Hi Az,” you greeted softly, before dropping your empty glass on a passing waiter’s tray and thanking them. Azriel watched you closely, noting the revealed skin that shifted with each movement, committing every angle and freckle to memory.

“You want to get out of here?” He dared ask, jerking his head toward the private balcony on the House of Wind. You raised a brow, Azriel? Asking you to leave? Together? You heart was back in your throat and you thanked the Mother that you’d taken your time getting ready that evening. Nodding, you grasped his arm as he offered it to you like a proper courtier. He walked the two of you up a round of stairs and away from the eyes he’d threatened earlier in the night. Voices dulled the more space you put between yourselves and them and you couldn’t help but start to sweat a bit at the thought of being alone with Azriel. 

You’d been friends for nearly two centuries, but you’d always felt a connection with the male. Your heart thrummed with a warm, golden affection when he got close. It made keeping a clear head during training hard. It made sitting next to him at dinner difficult. And when he’d looked at you like you hung the moon as you danced earlier in the night, it made you want to take him to bed and ride him until he moaned your name. You breathed deeply. ‘Focus,’ you chided yourself, ‘he is your friend, for Cauldron’s sake.’

He led you out onto to the balcony and stopped at the railing before looking up at the star flecked sky. “This is my favorite part of the House,” he said eyes scanning the sky before looking back to you as you watched him. A blush crept up his neck, before he cleared his throat again. 

“I’ve always wondered what it was like to be able to fly, you know,” you said quietly, removing your hand from his arm, rolling up onto your toes, leaning against the stone railing, and looking out on Velaris before scanning your eyes up to the three stars that shone brightly overhead. “When I was a child, I met a Peregryn from the Dawn Court and thought she had the most beautiful wings I’d ever seen.” You chanced a glance his way, “I’d not met an Illyrian yet.” You reminded with a smirk, bumping his arm with fondness. Gods, he was in trouble.

“I asked her what it was like and she said it was the purest sense of freedom possible.” You glanced down at your feet, “I spent the next year wishing for wings.”  He mulled on your words. He wanted to say something cheesy as Cassian would, like ‘I’ll be your wings’ but he couldn’t, so you continued on. 

“When I was a little older, I witnessed a blue skinned lesser fae’s wings ripped from his body as punishment and it was the most gruesome thing I’d seen at that point.” You took a shuddering breath, “I cried for him that night. The lost freedom. How maddening it must’ve been.” You looked at him then and he watched you with furrowed brows. “How does it feel for you?” You asked softly, eyes tracing the shine of his wing. ‘Magnificent things,’ you thought. You remembered seeing his wings for the first time and thinking the Peregryn had finally moved to second place in your mind. 

Azriel had to gather himself as he spoke, “It’s… everything.” He said quietly adjusting his body to extend a wing. “My ability to fly came in late,” he said, and your eyes widened, you hadn’t known that. “My childhood was… rough and I didn’t learn to fly until I was nearly grown.” He laughed, scuffing the toe of his boot, wings folding in behind him. “It was a lot of crash landings those first months.” You snorted, mental image of a younger Az, landing in a puddle of mud crossing your mind. 

“I was never a proud Illyrian, not like the others,” he continued, “it was hard for me to reconcile my heritage and our traditions.” He looked to the cityscape then, “but the stronger I got, the more I understood why flight was so crucial to my people.” He looked to you, eyes shining, “it’s the closest we can get to the stars.” 

You leaned over the railing again, staring wistfully at the night sky, the moon reflecting on your skin. “Will you take me someday? Flying, I mean.” Did you not know Azriel would give you the world? Of course he’d take you flying. He’d give you the moon, the stars, walk through fire and back, anything. He nodded, “you say the word, and I’ll fly you the the ocean and back.” The smile that broke across your face crippled him, his knees threatened to give way. 

“Yours are my favorite,” you murmured softly, eyes glancing from his wings to his face. Azriel blushed in full, pink speckling his neck and cheeks as he laughed. “Don’t let Cass hear you say that, he’s got an ego,” he said, a smile remaining at his lips. You liked him like this the most. Loose, smiling, free. You reached up then, cupping his reddened cheek, thumb stroking. “I don’t care,” you said smiling, “it’s the truth.” Azriel swallowed roughly, staring at your eyes swimming with an emotion he knew, but was much too stubborn and scared to name.

Just as your hand went to retreat, he grasped it between his own. “You can touch them,” he offered, knowing damn well the implications, “if you want,” he added. Your eyes widened. Mor had mentioned once that Illyrian’s wings were ‘sensitive,’ was the word she’d used. It was a sign of great intimacy and trust to allow another to touch them. You felt the air shift between you two then, as you nodded.

He extended a wing toward you. This felt so much like the first time he’d shown you his hands all those years ago. Your hand crept forward and gentle fingers met the red gold membrane that stretched between two metacarpals. Your fingers traced the membrane in smooth circles, then traced up to the crest. Azriel felt his breath gutter out of his mouth in a loud, choppy exhale, and he felt himself harden at the sensation of your fingers against the most sensitive portion of his wings. You gasped and jerked away at the sudden noise, before apologizing. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have gotten carried away.” 

Azriel shook his head, “It’s not that, they’re sensitive.” There was that word again, only it made you think of how they’d been shredded before the King of Hybern, and you opened your mouth to apologize again, but he stopped you short. “I haven’t allowed another to touch them freely since my mother.” The admission floored you, your gut giving way with a breath.

You looked to his eyes then, the air between you had shifted again and you knew this was it. This was the moment you’d waited for, he was going to kiss you. Mother, it felt you’d waited a millennia, and he felt just the same. But that kiss never came. Instead, Azriel went stock still, his eyes now on the House behind you. 

“Azriel?” You questioned. “It’s Rhys,” he said tightly, “he’s summoning me.” You understood then. He looked to you desperately, eyes a little wild and apologetic. “I’m sorry, I have to go to him.” You nodded, you both worked for the High Lord, you’d never get in the way of Azriel’s allegiance to his Court. “Of course,” you said quietly, taking a step back and swallowing down your disappointment. 

Azriel took three steps towards the entrance then stopped. “I’ll take you,” he turned around, backing his way to the arched stone, but keeping his eyes on you for a moment longer. “When I get back, I’ll take you flying,” he offered. Another smile etched its way across your face and Azriel took a long moment to memorize it greedily. “It’s a date,” you said confidently. He beamed then, turning on a heel to pick up into a jog, Rhys no doubt shouting to hurry up. 

That date hadn’t happened though. The second war with Hybern broke out days later and you both barely made it out alive. 

When Feyre had come to Velaris after Amarantha’s defeat, you’d accepted her with easy friendship. You saw Rhysand, your longtime friend, overcome with love for his newly found mate, and you couldn’t help but love her as well. You’d shared your story with her and the two of you bonded deeply over her art. She’d offered to teach you to paint, and you began taking lessons in your off time. Rhys had been Cauldron blessed with her and you reminded him daily. 

Later, when Feyre’s sisters joined their little unit, you’d been the first one to break Nesta’s tough exterior. The female saw parts of herself in you and you’d gotten her to crack a smile when you mocked Rhys’ High Lord voice at dinner one night. Elain had been a tougher sell, but you’d tried, along with Azriel, to bring the female out of her shell. The day she joined you in the library to read, you knew progress had been made, even if you two had only sat in silence a few feet apart, a small smile gracing her features. 

You left her book recommendations with small notes and she began to do the same. Your friendship playing out in the margins of the library’s tomes. You won her over with silent conversation. Nesta noticed, of course, and she looked to you with gratitude as she saw her sister’s eyes brightened and skin began to return to its normal, healthy color. The night Azriel mentioned it as you walked down the hall toward the dining room for the family meal, you’d shrugged. “I met her where she needed me to,” you’d said quietly, glancing to your feet. Azriel smiled, a Cauldron blessed gift indeed. 

Dinners at the House of Wind were by far Azriel’s favorite version of you. You’d laugh with abandon, smile splitting your face, showing every tooth as Mor cracked a joke and leaned against you for support, one too many drinks in her system. The first time he’d seen that smile, it blinded him, and he’d gone a little dazed, staring at you in wonderment. Rhys had interrupted his train of thought with an invasive insertion of “How quickly she reduced you to a puddle, brother.” Azriel had scowled at Rhys then, mental shields firming up, but not before he heard the distinct sound of his High Lord laughing at the Spymaster’s defensiveness. 

Indeed Azriel was gone for you. When Cassian finally confronted him last year about the truth of his feelings, Azriel saw no point to avoid it any longer, not after his brothers had also found their mates. “Our souls are one in the same, she’s my mate,” he’d said pensively, as if he was letting his deepest secret breath in the light for the first time in centuries. Maybe he was. He’d made Cassian promise on his life not to tell anyone, and despite being the biggest gossip in the Inner Circle, he kept his promise. He was thrilled for his brother, knowing you were the perfect match.

Little did Azriel know, everyone else was already more than aware of his affections. Amren had figured it out a century prior when Azriel had tended your needs as you’d recovered from an injury sustained during a mission. He’d fretted around you like a mother hen, buying you flowers, sweets, and books while you were bedridden. The female had watched and hummed with a raised eyebrow as Azriel exited your room for the fifth time in one day, wringing his hands with worry despite Madja’s clean bill of health.

Feyre had figured it out the same year she’d returned from the Spring Court, just before the second war with Hybern. She’d seen the way his eyes had followed you in the war room Rhys had created to host strategy meetings. Saw him lean towards you when you spoke, saw his wings flutter when you finally cast your gaze to him, eager for your attention. More than anything, she’d seen his shadows, desperate little things, sneaking across the floor each night, sidling up your ankles and wrists, begging for your affection. You always laughed and nuzzled them as the wound their way to your hair and Azriel went a little soft at the sight. 

When she told Mor, the blonde had laughed, “They’ve been circling each for two hundred years now, eventually one of them will cave.” Mor leveled a sardonic look at Feyre then, “and when they do, we’ll all have to relocate to the River House for a year lest we be subject to the frenzy.”

This mission should’ve been simple. Rhys had asked you to check out reports of rogue soldiers spotted making their way towards the border of the Night Court from the Day coastline. The intel he’d received had mentioned three to four maximum, all of them drunken ex-Hybern loyalists. It should’ve been a matter of locating them, spying for a day or two, then winnowing in to neutralize any threat. Gods, this was far from simple. 

When you’d arrived in the region, the hairs on your neck rose, the air itself feeling off. As you tracked them, you’d noticed intentional attempts to throw you off course. A carelessly trashed map, crudely laid tracks in the opposite direction, Dawn Court wine bottles that had been emptied and tossed about. They knew you were there, and you quickly realized that a trap had been laid. You backed off them then, staying further than you’d have liked, but trying like hell to make them think you’d given up. 

On your fourth night following them, you’d drifted away to an inn two towns over, desperately seeking a place to bathe and rest, even for a few hours. As you bathed, you felt watched in a way that discomfited you to your core, and your dagger stayed within arms reach the rest of the night. Suddenly, the role you’d played for the last two hundred years had left you entirely ill equipped for whatever was happening here. 

You’d left out before dawn, refusing to lose an ounce of daylight, but as you hit the tree line, readying yourself to winnow out, you’d noticed it. Hanging from a tree, a hundred yards away was a piece of clothing, your clothing. Clothing that should’ve been in the pack at your back. Your breath shuttered out of you as you opened your mind to Rhys, asking for back up. You were in over your head and you knew when to admit it. There was no pride in getting yourself killed. 

As you turned to move back to the inn where you could wait out contact from Rhys in a public location, you were met with a pair of shining blue eyes. You stepped back, keeping your grounding, readying for a fight. “You’ve been following us,” the stranger said calmly, beginning to trek in a slow circle around you. You opened your mind to Rhys again, “Help,” you called. Rhys answered this time, “Where are you?!” It was a frantic response, you never asked for help, Rhys knew this. “Just off the coast, beneath the mountain range, Day court border, 400 hundred paces from the inn” you spoke to Rhys in choppy thoughts, trying to establish a location before all hell broke loose. 

“I have,” you finally answered the stranger, whose lips quirked at your voice. He stopped circling and resumed his stance in front of you, blocking passage to the inn. “Why?” He asked and you tried to keep your mind steady as you answered. “You’re trespassers in these lands” you stated simply, shrugging a shoulder up. He grinned then, “had your lot not gotten in the way of our King’s plans, these would be our lands. We were promised them. I was personally promised the Court of Nightmares.”

“Well,” you shrugged feigning indifference, “that’s not how the war played out, so I will have to ask you to leave,” you offered in your most bored political tone. The same tone you’d used with High Fae that ran off at the mouth in Hewn City. The stranger cocked his head the side then, eyes twinkling, “I don’t think I will.” At that moment, one by one, additional soldiers appeared from the forest line. One, then four, then ten, until near twenty stood around you, looking on with hatred. 

Shit. 

“We’d hoped for the Illyrians, but it seems your High Lord sent us a treat instead,” the stranger said with mirth. You steeled your spine, looking down your nose at the stranger, “They’re going to kill you, you know.” He’d laughed at your threat. “I think not,” he said as as arrow was released from your left, finding purchase in your shoulder. You folded over on yourself at the blow, and looked up baring your teeth, before drawing your dagger and rushing the stranger with a feral sound.

Five more arrows hit you before your blade could find its target. One into your hip, two in your back, a fourth piercing your in your upper thigh, until the last burrowed into the back of your knee, bringing you down in front of him — forcing you to bow to the stranger. The arrows were laced with faebane you realized as you’d begun to feel its effects in your blood. Your power waning quickly, thoughts becoming murky. 

You released another shattered thought to Rhys then, “Tell him, please,” you begged raggedly. Rhysand came back with a rushed and tight, “Hold on, Little One, we’re coming.” You shook your head, there wasn’t time. “Tell Azriel I love him if I don’t make it, Rhys, promise me.” He responded but it muddled out, sounding like words shouted through a pool of water, then your brain fell quiet. The line severed. 

The stranger lifted your head, hand wrapped around your throat, as he bent to meet your crouched form. “I’ll be sure to savor this,” he smiled and the hilt of his sword came in fierce contact with your forehead. 

It was the early morning on your fifth day away when Rhys heard you. “Help,” it had come through so clearly that it startled Rhys awake and set his heart to racing. You’d only asked for help once, during the war when you were overrun and near death. You were in danger.

He’d sat up straight in bed, Feyre still sleeping silently at his side, hand resting on her pregnant stomach. “Where are you?!” He’d asked down the line, a little frantic, remembering the state he and Azriel had found you in last time. Gods, you’d been run through on a Hybern soldier’s sword, the damage was astronomical. Azriel had nearly killed everyone within a mile radius at the sight of you.

You recited your location in short bursts and Rhys focused on the bond of your bargain, using it to locate you with more precision. He reached out to Azriel then, “Get Cassian and meet me downstairs. Be ready to fly.” Azriel responded an affirmative and Rhys rushed around his room, grabbing his dagger lined belt, and using his magic to dress in his leathers quickly. He winnowed to the base of the stairs and was glad to find Cassian and Azriel waiting. 

“Tell him, please” you begged into Rhys’ mind then, words growing ragged. Rhys’ eyes slammed shut with a wince and he attempted to reassure you, “Hold on, Little One, we’re coming.” Rhys opened his eyes and looked to Azriel, who was watching him with anticipation. You responded again, words growing murkier, a little warbled. “Tell Azriel I love him if I don’t make it, Rhys, promise me.” Rhysand felt sick. “We will find you and you will tell him yourself,” he spoke but the bond was dead, silent, foreboding. Rhys thought he might vomit. 

He looked to Azriel again, “It’s her. She’s in trouble. We have to go.” Azriel’s face darkened with a thunderous ferocity. Mother help the males who’d harmed you. “Where?” He asked, voice deep with the threat of murderous violence. “The wilds on the border, off the coast of Day. I’ll winnow us as close as possible.” Azriel nodded his acquiesce and lifted a trembling hand to his hair, running scarred fingers through the strands. Cassian spoke then, “we will get her back,” he’d said softly as Rhysand put his hands to the two of them, preparing for the jump. “And we will kill every last one of them,” Cassian added darkly as blue-black shadows encased them and they disappeared. 

You awoke with a start, gasping like you’d been underwater. Your shoulders ached from your position. You pulled on your hands only to realize you were shackled to a tree somewhere deep in the forest, the same forest you’d been on the outskirts of earlier. You looked up to the sky, trying to find the sun to gauge how much time had passed. The sun had long moved past midday and was sinking towards the evening horizon. Your throat tightened. Where was Rhysand? 

“Nice of you to join us,” a voice spoke. It was the stranger again, he emerged from the camp set two hundred paces to your left, hidden by shrubs and underbrush. You got a good look at him this time. He was tall, leanly muscular in a way that reminded you of Lucien Vanserra. His hair was a dishwater blonde and lacked any sheen, falling in choppy dry waves around his shoulders. His face was gaunt, eyes sunken, bruised with a lack of rest, and his cheekbones were sharp, giving his face an angle that made him look harsh and unforgiving. Though he carried himself with confidence, you noticed a slight, barely there limp in his right leg, an old wound perhaps, one that never healed correctly. You noted that for later, if you ever got out of these shackles. 

You leveled a glare at him that you hoped looked more fearsome than you felt. Mother, your bones ached and your wounds throbbed. “I left the arrows in, but broke off the shaft. Didn’t want to have you healing too quickly.” He spoke with nonchalance, while polishing a dagger, your dagger, you realized as your eyes focused. You pulled at the shackles above your head, and the stranger chuckled at your attempt. 

“What do you want?” Your voice croaked, mouth dry from disuse. The stranger laughed, pointing the blade at you, “I want my fucking court and you’re the key to getting it.” You shook your head then, “I am nothing.” The words sounded foreign on your tongue, a lie on some level, you knew this, but you would be damned before you gave up your family. The stranger clicked his tongue at your response, shaking his head. 

“Surely you don’t believe that? The High Lord doesn’t trust easily, you’ve been seen with his entourage. The Shadowsinger’s whore.” He squatted a few feet from you, eyes tracing from your tied hands down to your face, pausing at your breasts, before trekking down your stomach, thighs, and calves. He was sizing up how much fight you had left.

Your brain had short circuited though, the Shadowsinger’s whore. Mother above, you’d never even kissed. How long had this male watched you and your family? How had none of you seen it? A bitter laugh wretched from your lungs, “sorry to disappoint, but the Shadowsinger isn’t mine.” No matter how desperately I’ve wished it so, you added silently. 

The stranger grinned then, “if you are truly nothing, then I’ll make this a little sweeter.” He took steps towards you, raising the dagger to rest at your chin, the blade pressing to the underside painfully. “You’re far too pretty to be nothing.” He ran the blade along the column of your throat, resting it against your sternum, between your breasts. You pushed yourself further into the tree, back protesting as the arrows burrowed deeper with the movement. You didn’t like the new angle this interaction had taken and your fight or flight instincts were screaming. 

You attempted to reach out to Rhysand, but the bond was dead silent. Your breathing hitched at the realization that you were truly alone in this. The stranger chuckled, dragging the blade down your chest, slicing the leathers, letting the fabric fall open and reveal your undergarments to his greedy view. Your legs moved to kick, but you realized quickly they too were tied. The blade came to rest at your bare stomach, and the stranger dug it in below the navel, causing blood to pool there. You winced, but made no sound. 

“Ah, I was hoping you’d be louder than that,” the stranger smirked, “I’ll have to try harder.” He backed up then and pulled a whip from his back pocket, unfurling it with a crack. Your eyes widened and you brain went silent, fear overtaking your senses. “There it is,” his smile gleamed with violent delight, “there’s the reaction I was hoping for.” He reared an arm back before cracking the whip in your direction. The leather made contact with your torso, a stinging slice appearing along your rib cage. You jerked, but bit your tongue.

He cracked it again and again until you were bloody, slices in your leathers, festering wounds along your breasts, ribs, and stomach. You’d counted to 25 lashes before your brain gave out and your vision blurred from the pain. You looked up to the sky wearily. The sun was gone and the stars were slowly appearing. You smiled at them, remembering Azriel’s words from that night all those years ago. 

You hoped he’d forgive you for not telling him. You hoped he’d understand your fear in revealing that secret, that the bond had snapped for you during the war. When that Hybern soldier’s sword pierced your armor, running through your body to the hilt, and he’d let out a fearsome bellow from across the field at the sight. You felt it then, the golden strumming taking the form of a fated thread linking you two. You been near death when he and Rhys had found you and the only thing you could do was smile. Such an ironic thing it was to die in the arms of your mate. 

Your head lolled to the side as exhaustion threatened to overtake you. “Azriel,” your thoughts ventured, calling down the bond he didn’t even know existed, “I love you.” Darkness swam in the corners of your vision but you swore you felt his responding tug. The Mother was kind for granting that hallucinative mercy in your final hours. Your body gave out, slumping against the shackles and darkness overwhelmed you. 

Azriel was furious. No, furious wasn’t the word, he was a walking time bomb. You were gone. His mate was missing and he was going to explode. As he’d arrived with Rhys and Cassian to the location you’d given them, he could smell you. His eyes searched frantically around the scene before him until they zeroed in on an item hanging from a branch a few dozen paces out. Cloth of some sort? He approached and could detect your scent on it, realizing quickly it was your clothing. A ripped cotton blouse. His fists clenched and he vaguely heard Rhysand speaking to his left. “They must’ve captured her here.” Rhys crouched down to the ground, two fingers swiping the dirt there, before bringing them eye level to examine sample. “Blood,” he muttered, rubbing the hand on the leg of his pants, “she was injured.” Azriel’s heart thundered, he was going to fucking explode. 

He set his shadows work, surveying the forest with rapid precision. They’d cover more ground this way, an army of three operating like a whole infantry. By the time the sun rose to midday, Azriel was ready to begin screaming. They trekked further into the forest, following a line of smoke that was miles deep, originating at a camp somewhere far into the wilds. His shadows murmured to him of a small band of males there, of you, shackled to a fucking tree, arrows buried in your back. He’d nearly lost the contents of his stomach at the information and set to a run alongside Rhysand and Cassian. 

As the three approached the encampment, the sun was nearing dusk. Rhysand had commanded the halt and strategize. There were roughly twenty-five men, all armed. They couldn’t enter this blindly and infuriated, they would lose if they weren’t careful. Azriel hated admitting he was right, his instincts screaming otherwise. Mate, mate, mate, his heart pounded. 

They backed off to a thousand paces out, close enough that they could hear if the troop vacated the premises. As Rhysand and Cassian spoke quietly, Azriel felt his heart thrum. The golden thread there had pulled him closer to you and he could tell you were still alive. Though Rhys couldn’t reach out through your bargain, Azriel’s bond was still alight and warm, he stroked it with gentle affection. You might not feel it, but Gods he would try. 

As the trio retraced their steps to the camp, stars were just beginning to light overhead and Azriel grasped his daggers tightly, knuckles cracking around the hilt. He was going to kill them. Kill them all brutally for taking you, for touching what was his. When they were within a stones throw from the camp he heard it, heard you. “Azriel,” you whispered into his mind. He went stock still, spine ramrod straight, fingers trembling as they gripped his knives. The golden bond vibrated in his chest, and he felt you reaching out through murky waters, against all odds. “I love you,” you said with a soft exhaustion before your side went dark. Azriel’s breathing guttered and he felt high on mirthroot, sick from fae wine, and enraged to the point of explosion all at once. His blue siphons flared brightly from the surge of power. He closed his eyes and reached out to you through the bond, tugging on the thread connecting your souls. He was coming. He was going to save you. 

Rhysand looked to him then, curiosity swimming in his eyes as he took in the Shadowsinger’s sudden stop. Azriel opened eyes, irises alight with fire and shadow, voice grinding with dark threat, “Let’s go.” Rhys nodded and Cassian drew his knives. 

They moved with brutal efficiency, killing male after male until none remained alive. Some had begged, others shouted and scattered their belongings as they set into a run. His shadows had caught them, twisting around their ankles and dragging them back to meet their fate, daggers slicing throats from ear to ear until blood poured like a prized hunt being slaughtered, the Illryian’s hands grasping and snapping necks like twigs. It was a practiced routine for the three of them, who’d trained since they were teens. 

As they stepped through the shrubs to find you, Cassian gasped and Azriel felt his lungs threaten to collapse at the sight. You’d been shackled to a tree at the wrists and ankles and whipped within an inch your life. Wounds glistened with blood along your thighs, soft stomach, ribs, breasts. There had to be thirty lashes. A knife wound was visible at your exposed navel. Your head hung forward unconscious and Azriel’s heart pounded. He wanted to vomit and his hands shook. 

“She said you’d come,” a voice said, emerging from behind the tree you were bound to. The male held a dagger to your throat. This new stranger had to be the leader of this band of idiots. Azriel’s eyes followed the tip of the blade up his arm to the male’s eyes and a growl escaped him as he bared his teeth. The male laughed, “to think she said she was nothing and yet I have both the Shadowsinger and the Lord of Bloodshed before me to save her.”

Azriel’s mind latched on to that piece of information, turning it over in his head. You’d told this male you were nothing? Did you not know Azriel would do anything for you? You were everything. You were his love, light of his life, keeper of his soul, his mate. How alone you must’ve felt, how scared. Azriel’s eyes narrowed, he was going kill him. 

Rhysand spoke then, emerging from behind the two Illyrian brothers, “And may I ask why you’ve abducted a member of my court?” He was in High Lord mode, tone bored, fingers picking at his sleeve. The Hybern male’s smile gleamed at the introduction, “just who I was hoping to see!” 

“Hybern, the old fool, made a few promises in his last days as King,” the male spoke, digging the blade down to your chest, where it rested over your heart. Azriel stared at the blade, eyes tracing to the the hilt. That was your blade, the one he’d given you when you first arrived in Velaris, the one you wielded against Eris, the one you kept strapped to your thigh. Your own knife had been used against you.

“One of which was that I would inherit these lands after your lot were annihilated.” Azriel wanted to laugh at the male’s words, was he serious? “A dead king cannot honor empty promises,” he ground out eyes shifting to the male’s blue eyes. “A dead and headless king cannot gift you shit,” Azriel spat. The male smiled then, a feline grin growing on his lips. “Precisely Shadowsinger, a dead king cannot give me my due, but this little thing can help.” You’d made a noise then, something akin to a whimper as you came to. Eyes wincing then fluttering open as your irises found Azriel’s immediately, some preternatural magnetism existing between the two of you. Then you looked to Cassian and Rhysand, and your eyes swam with apology.

“She awakens!” The male sang, looking to you. Azriel jumped at the opportunity to send his shadows out while the male’s attention was elsewhere. They traced over the ground to you, circling the tree and working at your binds. He sent two others towards the distracted male. “Who knew the Night Court was so attached to a whore,” the male laughed, “I want my lands,” he fixed Rhysand with a glare, “you can have your plaything back in exchange for my seat, High Lord” he sneered. 

Rhysand looked from you to the stranger to the shadow now creeping ever closer to the male. “You must be mistaken,” Rhys said then and Azriel’s shadows wrapped around the male’s neck and wrist simultaneously, whispering violence for touching their mate, forcing the dagger from his grasp and air from his lungs. Azriel tightened them until they heard bones crack in the male’s arm and choked sounds exit his throat, face reddening as oxygen was cut off. “I do not make deals with dim witted cunts,” Rhysand said darkness beginning to surround him, High Lord voice encroaching, “I do not entertain terrorists and I do not take kindly to threats on my family.” 

‘Finish him,’ Rhysand said darkly into Azriel’s mind and the Shadowsinger moved with lightening precision, dagger find purchase as the male’s neck was sliced open and his right hand was removed from his body. The male’s body toddled forward with a choked gurgling, before falling to the ground, lifeless, blood pooling.

Azriel’s gaze fell to you and he softened. His shadows finished picking the lock of the shackles that held your arms and they clicked open, allowing your body to fall into his. “Azriel,” you breathed, voice weary with exhaustion, “I didn’t— I—“ you stuttered, pulling a shaking hand to his face. You swallowed, tracing his cheek with trembling fingers, “I didn’t think I’d see you again,” you murmured, your watery eyes searching his face, memorizing the details of his visage.

Azriel picked you up in his arms and unfurled his wings protectively. “I will always come for you,” he said vehemently, eyes watching your face with intensity. You smiled, a weepy trembling smile as you nodded. Rhysand reached the Shadowsinger’s side then and your eyes moved to his violet ones, “Hi Little One, I’m so sorry we’re late.” You let out a single watery laugh before wincing as the sudden expansion of your chest burned the wounds littering your chest and back. 

“The arrows,” you gasped, “at my back,” you twisted in Azriel’s hold, “please get them out.” Rhysand leaned down to inspect the wounds. “Faebane,” he surmised, that’s why his connection to you had been severed. “We need to get her to Madja, now.” Azriel nodded, allowing Rhys and Cassian to move closer so the High Lord could winnow them home. 

Landing back at the House of Wind had been chaotic. Rhysand shouted immediately to get every healer available and the dining room table had been lined with a sheet, turning the warm family room into a medical ward. You were laid facedown on the table and Azriel took to your side, scarred hands touching your face, keeping you awake as Madja worked to remove the six arrows burrowed in your body. 

You’d screamed. The sound would haunt Azriel for centuries. You begged to make it stop and Madja had apologized softly as she worked faster to remove them while minimizing damage. “I’ve got you,” Azriel said softly, “eyes on me, alright?” He rubbed the hollow under your eye with a scarred thumb and you opened your eyes to lock on his. “No gloves,” you said, smiling tightly, before wincing as Madja applied local anesthetic to an arrow wound. Azriel smiled, eyes a little watery. “Not with you,” he whispered shaking his head, “never with you.” You smiled at him and the sight set Azriel’s heart to fluttering.

Later, after the arrows had been removed and wounds bandaged, you’d been given a strong herb tonic for pain that set your head swimming as exhaustion overtook you. Azriel carried you his room, laying you gently onto the mattress and covered you with the duvet. He leaned down then, breathing in your scent as he placed a kiss to your forehead, nuzzling his nose to the Winter white hair there. He would tell you. When you awoke, he would bare his soul to you. 

You woke with a groan. Fucking Gods, your body ached with the effort it took to roll over. “Easy,” a voice came from the corner of the room. Your breath gasped out of you as your eyes raced to the figure there. “Azriel,” you breathed. The male smiled warmly at you and stepped forward to rest at the edge of the mattress. You pushed up in the bed, the wound at your shoulder screaming from the exertion. Once in a sitting position, you rested your back on the headboard as you looked at him. “For taking out a small militia, you seemed to be decently uninjured,” you said smiling tightly, memories of the stranger and his whip haunting your mind. He snorted a small laugh, “Yes well,” he looked down then, thumbs fiddling with each other, chest heating, “I had something worth fighting for.” 

He looked back to you and your cheeks had grown pink, a small pleased smile at your lips. “I heard you, you know,” he said softly, turning enough to rest a hand on your thigh, thumb drawing small, soothing circles there. The heat generated in the touch sent a spark to your belly. Oh, you were fucked. “I heard you in my head, through the bond,” he said eyes watching his thumb as it traced on your bare skin hypnotically. 

“You know then?” You whispered, breath skittering out of you. You were scared to death of the trajectory the conversation was taking, your heart preparing for the best and the worst simultaneously. Azriel’s eyes dragged up your form to your face and a smile broke over his lips, one that caused your heart to ignite. Your Mother had once told you the heart was an organ of fire and you’d laughed, never having cause to believe such a statement. You understood now. 

“I—“ Azriel started, before clearing his throat, turning his body to face you in full, a knee pulled up on the mattress, touching yours. “In the whole time I have known you— two centuries, Little One,” he looked at you pointedly, “you have been my dearest friend, my greatest comfort, my confidant, and the person I admire most in this Gods forsaken world.” He breathed deeply, a whoosh exiting his lips as his hand tightened around your thigh. “The times when you were lost to me have been some of the most painful moments I’ve experienced.” 

Your eyes began to water, and you moved a hand to rest atop his own, thumb circling the scarred skin at his wrist. He took a breath then and the air shifted between you, his mouth opening and closing, as if he was gathering his confidence for what he was about to say next. “I have loved for you so long that I’d given up all hope of reciprocation.” The words shattered through you as all air escaped your lungs, guts swooping down as heat alighted there. “I felt the bond the night Eris came for you,” he continued, eyes watching your entwined hands. Your body went still and a startled laugh exited your mouth. Azriel’s eyes flew to yours questioningly. 

“Sorry,” you chuckled again, “I’m just realizing how fucking stupid we’ve been.” You lolled your to the side, watching him with loving eyes. “I’ve been in love with you for almost two centuries, Azriel,” you smiled, “I thought you wouldn’t want me.” Azriel’s eyes widened, his mouth opening and closing in disbelief, two then three times. You thought for a second to compare him to the guppy fish that swam in schools along the banks of the Sidra but refrained. 

He pushed forward then, hands coming to cup your face, pinky and ring fingers resting in the hollow below your ear, thumbs stroking your cheeks. “How could I not? You’re everything,” he whispered, searching your face, conviction showing in his eyes. You couldn’t stop the smile that overtook your mouth as you spoke, “and you’re my mate.” His eyes moved to your lips, glazing before they moved back to your eyes. “As you are mine,” he spoke confidently. 

Your eyes watched each other for a long second, “I really hope you’ll kiss me this time,” your hand trailed up his arm, fingers teasing. “Mother knows I’ve been dreaming of it for far too long.” He surged forward, lips meeting yours and you thought you might float away. You gasped and his tongue moved in, claiming your mouth, your taste with his own. 

He pulled away minutes later, a little breathless, “Sorry to have kept you waiting, my love,” he spoke, resting his forehead to yours with a smile, watching your dazed expression, pink cheeks, as your lips split into a grin. Your hand moved to the front of his button down, fisting in the material there, giving an experimental tug. “Kiss me like that again and I’ll consider forgiving you.” 

The laugh that came out of him was golden, and you pushed yourself to memorize it. Azriel, Lord of Shadows, Spymaster for the Night Court, Rhysand’s right hand and Illyrian warrior was soft for you. He loved you. He was your mate. You’d be giddy about it for the rest of your life. 

Your healing had been slower than you would’ve liked. The faebane had done serious damage but with Madja’s help, the scarring was minimized. The lashes at your front took two weeks to heal, the arrow wounds took three. Three fucking weeks. Meanwhile all you could think about was your mate. He hadn’t left your side in the interim. Helping you take steps, applying the wound creams that Madja had left in small glass pots, keeping you fed, making you laugh, telling you how much he loved you daily. Mother above, you were going to ruin this male. 

You walked into the kitchen at the end of week three, the only evidence of your wounds now in the slight limp of your right leg and twinge in your left shoulder. The marks at your stomach and chest had diminished into barely there, silver scores. Cassian was sitting at the small table in the corner as you entered. “Hi Cass,” you greeted, “seen my mate around this morning?” It was fun calling him that, a small part of your chest swelling with pride each time. 

Cassian smirked, “He’s been…… out.” Your eyes narrowed, he was being evasive. “Out where?” You asked, grabbing an apple and hopping up on the counter to watch the male. He shrugged, “No idea, Little One.” You smirked, “I know where you sleep Cassian,” you started, “is it really wise to lie to me?” Nesta strode into the kitchen, “What’s he done now?” She asked laughing. “Hey! I’ll have you know I’ve done nothing!” The male exclaimed, “She’s interrogating me on the whereabouts of her maaate.” He dragged out the vowel of the last word mockingly. Nesta took her seat next to Cassian and laughed, “Ah, him.” She looked to you then, “he’ll be around to collect you soon.” 

You looked between the two, suspicion dripping from your features as you took another bite from the apple in your palm. “You two are being weird,” you stated. Nesta shrugged, nudging Cassian who smiled at her. “Just wait,” she said softly, “maybe cook yourself a meal.” Cassian’s mouth quirked with a laugh he restrained. “Right, I’m leaving, cause whatever this is,” you waved a hand at them, “is deeply odd.” You hopped off the counter and strolled to the exit.  You heard them laughing softly once you were out of the room, making you roll your eyes at their antics.

You’d gone to the library after leaving the kitchen and found Elain already there. Her eyes moved to you upon your entrance and she closed her book, middle finger marking her spot. “How are you feeling?” She asked softly, eyes surveying your body for lingering damage. You sighed, falling into the sofa across from her. “I’m better,” you said quietly, “the pain is gone, scars are minimal.” You turned your eyes to her, she looked brighter than the last time you’d seen her. “How are you?” You asked in return. She smiled sweetly. “Better,” she echoed you and you wanted to laugh. “I’ve been exchanging letters with Lucien,” she added and your ears perked up.

“That’s great, Elain,” you rest your chin on a closed fist, watching her. She shifted and sat her book to the side, page forgotten. “I want to tell you something,” she said quietly, fingers twiddling with each other. She looked... nervous? “I’m all ears,” you said softly. 

“I had a vision while you were gone,” she started and took a deep breath. “It was so muddled at first, I couldn’t tell who it was, but then I saw you. Your hair was longer, you stood taller, and your belly was round.” The breath left your body in a powerful exhale. She looked to you again, eyes watching yours, “You were pregnant and happy and in love,” she said quietly, as if the words in themselves were fragile. Your hands trembled and you moved them under your thighs, her eyes didn’t miss the action. 

“I couldn’t understand why the Mother would send me a vision like that, I saw Feyre’s pregnancy, but we’re sisters, you know?” You nodded. “Then I realized I recognized the tattooed arm I’d seen wrap around you, knew it was Azriel.” Your eyes watered, and you hiccuped out a small laugh. “I’ve known for a while you two were fated, but the Mother was telling me for certain. I hope you know how happy we are for you.” She finished and moved to sit next you, small hand touching your knee. 

“When they brought you in that night, I thought the Mother had lied to me, that it was a vision of what could have been, that you wouldn’t make it.” You’d never heard Elain speak at length in this way, and you thought you might stop breathing. “I’ve never been happier to see you than when Azriel brought you in to read days later, my sweet friend.” You surged forward, throwing your arms around the female and she returned the gesture warmly. 

You sat back and looked at her then. “Thank you,” you said, voice small, a little watery. She nodded before turning to resume her original spot at the end of the sofa, picking up her book and opening it to the page she’d left off. 

In the hours that followed, you’d returned to the kitchen, grateful to find Cassian and Nesta had left. You took Nesta’s advice, gathering the ingredients to build a small berry tart. It had just gone in the oven when your mate appeared in the doorway.

“Hello love,” he said casually, leaning against the door jamb. You startled, turning on your heel to find him smiling at you. “Where have you been?” You asked walking towards him and running your hands around his midsection in a hug, head resting against his chest. His arm came around your shoulders as he pressed a kiss to your hair, breathing in your scent. “That, my dearest one, is a surprise.” 

You looked up chin resting against his chest, watching his face. “It’d better be good, I baked for you,” you said, smiling softly at the Spymaster. His eyes moved to the oven then and back to you, irises darkening, as his pupils blew a little wide. “You… baked?” He asked disbelieving, “didn’t know you knew how to bake,” he followed up playfully. You gasped and shoved him, “for that, you can starve, have fun finding another mate to bake for you.” He laughed heartily and caught your hand, bringing your knuckles to his lips, eyes swimming with warm affection as he pressed a kiss there. Gods, the action made lust swoop in your stomach, heat spreading. 

“The fool I’d be to turn away such a female,” he said, voice deepening, lips running across your knuckles with each word. “Azriel” you breathed. “Yes?” He offered in return, still smiling, moving your knuckles back and forth against his hot mouth. “Please tell me this surprise involves you bedding me.” A growl creeped out of his throat, the thought of you under him sending lust racing down his spine and to his groin. 

“It might,” he said quietly, lips resuming their exploration, tracking small kisses from your knuckles, to the joint of your thumb, the inside of your wrist where Rhys’ tattoo lingered, up the soft skin of your arm, to your elbow, until he reached the skin of your shoulder. His lips traced over the raised skin there, a small nip above the scar as he traced north to your collarbone. You’d gone to putty in his hands, head rolling to the side to bare your throat. He pressed soft kisses there, pausing at your pulse point to trace the area with his warm tongue, a whimper escaping your mouth. 

“If this is going to become a regular thing, I’ll need you two to relocate to the River House,” a voice came from behind you and you jumped in shock, but your mate, he let out a possessive growl before turning on the intruder. Rhysand laughed airily and folded his arms over his chest. “Easy, brother,” he smiled, causing Azriel to roll his eyes. You blinked a little dazed, and pulled away from the Shadowsinger. “You’re gonna make me burn my fucking tart,” you shoved him with an arm and laughed as you turned to resume your place at the oven. 

Azriel instructed you to dress comfortably and be ready in a hour as he kissed your knuckles one last time and exited the kitchen. Butterflies roamed freely in your stomach at the thought of what he had planned. You’d returned to your quarters after removing the tart from the oven and portioning it into a small travel sized container. You were going to accept the bond, and your nerves were alight with anxious excitement. After you dressed in a lightweight linen dress, you packed a small bag with your remaining creams, and the boxed tart you’d prepared earlier. 

You descended the stairs to find Azriel waiting at the base, his wings standing proudly behind him, shadows skittering around his feet. At the sight of you they raced to meet on the bottom step, running up your legs, around your waist and into your hair. A laugh escaped you as one nuzzled into the space behind your ear. Azriel watched fondly. “They love you,” he said smiling, taking a step to meet you, “ever since the bond snapped, I’ve had the hardest time reining them back from touching you.” 

You reached a hand out to meet his, interlacing your fingers. “They’re cute, but you’re cuter,” you said with gentle affection. A shadow pinched at your waist and Azriel’s cheeks went a little pink as he laughed. 

“Will you tell me what the surprise is?” You asked as he walked you toward the training balcony. “I’m afraid I’m very poorly dressed for training,” you joked. He snorted, “no, we’re not training.” He came to rest at the railing and then turned to you, running a hand up your arm, fingers moving to hold the back of your neck, warm palm heating the skin there, thumb grazing your jawline. “Amongst many things I’ve been terribly late for recently, I realize I owe you a date.” 

Your face went a little puzzled and you looked to his eyes. “A date?” You questioned. He nodded, “I was supposed to take you flying.” Realization dawned on your features and a smile overtook your lips, each tooth shining in the setting sun. “I wanted to kiss you that night too,” you admitted laughing, remembering how desperate you’d been for his touch and attention. He smiled softly, “you have no idea how angry I was with Rhys for calling me away.” Your eyes widened, still in disbelief that this male wanted you return. It seemed both a millennia in the making and still so new and fragile. 

Azriel snuck an arm around your waist and brought you up into the stretch of his firm body. His other hand tracing down your hip, then thigh, to curve under your knees as he picked you up. His wings unfurled and he shot into the air. A shaky laugh startled out of you and you gripped him tighter, your arms winding around his neck. His wings flapped in thunderous bursts, taking you higher, until you could see the entirety of Velaris spread below, the Sidra flowing like a snake through the winding city. Your breath left you in awe. “The Peregryn was right,” you said loud enough for him to hear and he smiled, pressing a kiss to your temple.

The flight was short, but it took you to the rural banks of the Sidra on the outskirts of the city, just before it emptied into the sea. You could see ships sailing into the harbor, moonlight beginning to trickle across the water. This was undeniably special, you thought, no one would see you up here and you felt like this was the edge of the world itself. You turned to Azriel, finding his eyes already watching you. “Thank you,” you said softly, leaning into him, his chin meeting your forehead as you moved your body to rest alongside the length of his. His hand came to rest at the small of your back, pinky stretching to graze the curve of your bottom. Wherever this was going, you were very interested. 

He turned and grasped your hand, pulling you back up the hill and away from the view, towards a field of wildflowers and grasses. There, in the middle, a blanket had been laid out, small candles lit to illuminate the setting. A basket sat in one corner, a bottle of fae wine held within with an assortment of pastries, breads, and cheeses. You realized quickly that your mate, the male you’d loved for damn near two centuries, was courting you. The thought thrilled you. 

He led you to the blanket and motioned for you to sit next him. “I must confess, I never took you for a romantic,” you said looking from the candles, to the basket, and then to him. He was watching you again. He smiled, laughing a bit nervously, “I’m a lot of things,” he said and your eyebrow quirked. “Oh yeah? Like what?” You challenged him and he loved you for it. You made him feel easy to love, you made loving fun and freeing. Azriel had once only thought freedom could be found in fucking and flying, then he’d found you and he knew it was there too. In the smile of your lips, in the thrill of your touch, in the ease of your love. 

“Well,” he started, moving his wings to lean into you, pressing a kiss to your exposed shoulder. The action caused you to shiver. “I’m a spymaster.” You snorted, “no shit.” A laugh rumbled in his chest. “I’m a bit shy as you well know, I’m quite fond of dancing, I’m—” he hummed the last letter, pausing his thoughts and moving his lips up your neck. “I’m in love with you,” he said biting into the flesh at the juncture of your collarbone and throat, cock hardening at the sound that rolled out of your mouth. “I’m going to take you right here, on this blanket, under the stars.” 

You gasped, your hands moved find purchase in the hair at the back of his head, fingers winding through the strands, nails dragging at his scalp. His nose ran the length of your jawline before his lips found yours. He rumbled a small hum the instant his mouth touched your own. At first it was a gentle press, teasing you as he had done today in the kitchen at the House of Wind. The adrenaline racing up your spine made you feel like you might vibrate out of your skin. His hand reached up then, threading broad fingers into your hair as he took the kiss deeper. Tonguing the bottom of your lip until your mouth opened, his tongue stroking your own. Humming with contentment, he tilted your head, deepening the kiss at a new angle that had heat swooping down to your core. 

You brought your left hand to his shoulder, fisting your fingers in the fabric there and pulling him closer. He understood your intention and leaned you back into the blanket, pleasure alighting each nerve as his body pressed into your own. He eased up on your lips and began a slow trek south, pulling the strap of your dress down the curve of your shoulder, leaving a love bite there that had you gasping. He kissed down the bust line of the dress, laving his tongue at the swell of your breast. Your breath was coming in pants and you pressed yourself up on your elbows as he moved further south, fingertips tracing the hem of your dress that had risen to the middle of your thigh. 

He looked back to you and smiled, mischief playing in his eyes as he ran his hands up your thighs, the slow drag pulling the dress with it. “I’ve been thinking about your cunt for centuries,” he said, his lips on your knee, pressing insistently as they moved north. “I’ve been dreaming of making you come on my tongue since I met you.”

Your breath leaves you in one fell swoop as you feel his tongue at the juncture of your hip and thigh. His mouth was insistent at skin there, tonguing the lace of your panties before pulling them down your legs and off entirely. He picked up a foot, placing it to his chest as he traced the long line of your body with hungry eyes. You were panting already, dressed rucked up around your waist, straps fallen down your arms and breasts heaving. His gaze flowed south and landed on your pink cunt, glistening, begging for him. His eyes went back to your face then, and his titled his head to the side, “Will you let me eat your pretty little cunt?” He asked fingertips tracing the scars of your calf with reverence. He brought your foot up, kissing the inside of the ankle, then nosing his way over your scarred calf, suckling at the skin there. “Please,” he added, eyes moving back to yours as his mouth continued his ministrations. 

“Mother above, Azriel,” you breathed and a laughed startled out of you, “you are mouthy.” He chuckled darkly then, nipping at your knee, taking special care to press a gentle kiss at the new scar there. “Is that a no then?” He said softly and your head fell back with a groan, exposing your neck to his view. “As if,” you said, head pulling back up and lolling to the side to rest on your shoulder. “I’ve thought about it too, and if you back out now I will explode.” He laughed again, freely this time, forehead resting on your thigh. 

His eyes find yours again, and he kept them there as he traced his lips north. He nosed the juncture of your cunt and inner thigh, running a tongue along your mound. You gasped and eyes narrowed, watching him with rapt attention. He pressed a kiss to the top of your slit and his hands come up to open you to him, pulling the lips apart and tonguing the collected moisture there. Your head fell back as your elbows gave way, falling flat against the blanket. 

“You taste better than I imagined,” he said before wrapping his lips around your clit and sucking. The moan that left you had his hips pushing into the ground to find relief as his cock begged for release. His tongue flicked against your clit as he sucked and hummed. He thought this might become his favorite place in all of Prythian. He thought that every bad thing that had happened in his life seemed insignificant now that he was able to worship freely between your thighs. He traced fingers up and paused to wet them on his tongue, before pushing his middle and ring finger in to the second knuckle, pulling them out and scissoring them back in again. His tongue found your sweet little button for a second time that night and he laved at it, listening to your cries as he pushed you to the brink. Azriel’s life had been a nightmare, but between your thighs, mouth on your cunt, walls fluttering around his fingers, he thought he’d been blessed by the Mother herself. 

Your hips rocked up in time with his fingers and you cried as your gut twisted, the coil there tightening. “Az-“ you gasped. “Azriel,” you went a little whiny on the vowels of his name, and your hand reached down to thread your fingers into his hair, nails scratching and tugging the strands. He hummed, the vibration sending shocks up your spine. “Azriel, baby,” you gasped, coming up on an elbow again, rutting your hips into his face as he took you higher. He didn’t let up, suckling at your cunt, fingers finding the spongy spot on the backside of your clit that made the world go blank “Azriel!” you gasped again, hips stuttering out, “Fuck, fuck— oh.” In seconds you were reaching your peak, hips faltering, thighs twitching, toes curling into the hard planes of his back. 

He pulled his mouth off of you, pressing kisses to your pubic bone as he moved north up your stomach. He eyes were alight with desire, the male was pure want and you were his last meal. He pulled his fingers from your cunt and trailed them up to rest at your neck as he slotted his body between your thighs and kissed you. The hedonism of tasting yourself on his mouth made you wetter, cunt pressing into the hard line of his cock, still restricted in his trousers. He moaned at the contact, mouth leaving yours to rest his head against your chin and gather himself. The sound sent a pleasurable shock directly to your core. You grasped the hand at your throat and brought his fingers up and to your mouth, tongue laving at them before taking them to the knuckle, and pulling back slow, hollowing out your cheeks and sucking, keeping your eyes on his. He bared his teeth the sight and ground his hard cock into you, the friction on your clit making your thighs twitch. 

“My sweet little mate,” he cooed. “Love of my life,” he nosed your cheek, his fingers still in your mouth. “All my dreaming has been put to shame it would seem,” he pulled his fingers from your mouth and replaced them with his tongue, his hands flying to his belt. He growled in struggle and you ventured a laugh. His eyes found yours and his jaw ticked, “keep laughing, sweet girl, I’ll fuck your throat next and you won’t come.” Your eyes went a little wide and a feline grin appeared on your face. “Mouthy indeed,” you said with glee as he finally got the buckle undone and pushed the pants down and off. 

His shirt went next and your fingers traced up his exposed arms to his shoulders. “I’ve seen you shirtless a dozen times, and you still take my breath away,” you said softly, a hand resting on his pectoral. He laughed and went a little pink, before he pushed your dress up your body and over your head, leaving you bare. “I’ve always been impressed by your ability to so disarming,” he said, mouth finding the space above your breast as his hands came to cup them, fingers toying with the nipples. “It’s my favorite thing about you, you see me in a way I can’t even see myself,” he followed up. 

Your eyes watered at the admission and your hands found his face, bringing his mouth back to yours as you kissed him again, tongue entwining with his. Your hands grasped his shoulders, as your leg found his hip and you pushed him over, onto his back. Your hands came to rest on his chest as you settled your weight on his lower abdomen. You could feel his manhood standing to attention, insistent at the curve of your ass and you reached around to grasp it, pushing your chest out for his greedy eyes. Taking him in long strokes, you ran your hand up and down, circling your thumb around the head. His eyes screwed shut as his breathing shallowed. 

“Wanna know a secret, baby?” You offered, rocking your hips in time with your strokes. He whined then, the Lord of Shadows keened a little whine for you that had you ready to come right there. “Last time we hosted a gala, that night before Hybern,” you were panting, “all I could think about was taking you to bed.” His eyes opened and hazel was gone blacked out in pure desire. His hands found your hips and his own began to move in time with you. “I thought about riding you,” you said, twisting your hand in a way that had his breath guttering out of him. “I thought you might love me in the way you looked at me.” His eyes softened and he leaned up, hands tracing up your spine as he pressed kisses to your chest. 

“I loved you that night and every night since,” he said before tonguing a nipple and sucking it into his mouth. “That dress you wore, my color, had me hard for a week.” You laughed then removing your hand from his cock and bringing both to his face, so you could kiss him. His hands slipped to your ass then, palming the cheeks as his tongue moved in tandem with yours. When you moved back from him, a string of salvia still connected you two, you reached up to comb fingers through his hair gently.

“I brought you something,” you said quietly, looking to the corner of the quilt where your bag had dropped ages ago. His brow furrowed, confusion showing in his features. “You don’t have to, but I brought some of that tart. If you want,” you offered the statement nervously, as if there was still a chance for rejection. Azriel’s heart went soft and his brain turned to mush.

“You want to accept it?” He questioned, hands sliding up your back and to your waist. You smiled and looked at him incredulously, “Of course I want to accept it, it feels like I’ve waited a millennia for you.” You’d laughed a bit and that feeling of home raced through him again. Gods, he was fucked. 

You leaned off his lap, pulling the strap of your bag to you and unzipped it. There, packaged in a little glass container, lay a small slice of the berry tart you’d fretted over earlier in the day. “Nesta made some stupid comment about ‘cooking’ when I’d asked where you were,” you laughed in hindsight at the female’s leading words. “She knew because Cassian knew, he helped me with the food and candles,” Azriel murmured pushing your hair up and over your shoulder. 

He pulled the container from your grasp then and opened it before picking the pastry up with his fingers, the same fingers that had been inside you minutes ago. Eyes on yours he took the first bite, your heart thrumming as the golden thread of your bond lit up like the sunrise. His eyes never left yours as he consumed the pastry in four bites, swallowing and pulling his fingers into his mouth at the remaining sweetness there. 

The bond between you two was shining, strong and thrumming with love. ‘Hi,’ you tried, your thoughts reaching out to him. He smiled, laughing freely, and his voice came through clearly, ‘Hi, Little One.’ You choked out a laugh, eyes watering as you leaned forward to kiss him, tasting the berries on his tongue. ‘Can I make love to my mate now?’ He questioned down the bond and you laughed again. His hands were already tracing your hips as you leaned forward, hand reaching underneath to guide him into your cunt. Lowering yourself down, you rocked forward once then twice in order to take him to the hilt. 

Mother above, he was big. His cock was thick and filled you wholly, pushing against your cervix making your eyes flutter in pleasure. You thought of the comment Mor had made about wingspan once decades ago and you heard him laugh, “I’m flattered, truly,” he said playfully, reading your thoughts and nipping at your shoulder.

You rose up again and set to riding him slowly, hips moving in long strokes as his hands traced your ass, pulling at the flesh there in time with your movements. You gave a experimental squeeze of your walls, and he keened a loud moan that had you speeding up your flow. “You keep that up, Little One and I won’t last,” he panted at your throat. “That’s rather the point,” you laughed breathlessly, your own hand moving to cup your breast, the other sliding down to circle your clit. His eyes traced the view greedily, moving down to the point where you connected, watching your cunt take him in full, his cock glistening with your shared wetness. He bared his teeth at the sight, a rumble lighting in his chest. 

Just as your walls began to flutter with your impending orgasm, he grasped you and flipped you to your back, pulling your hands from your body and entwining your fingers with his own on each side of your head. He ground his pelvis in deep and your legs hitched higher around his waist. “Azriel, fucking Gods,” you called out at the switch in angle, the tip of his cock grinding into your cervix. He hummed at your throat, teeth marking you there as his hips pulled out and pushed in, grinding each time he bottomed out into you. His wings flared behind him and you thought you’d never seen a more beautiful sight. 

“You take me so well, my love,” he panted, “you were made for me.” You whined then, cunt fluttering around him as he bottomed out deep and held it there, grinding his pubic bone into your clitoris. The pleasure raced up your spine and you thought you’d never be able to leave this place, might have to keep him inside you forever. He growled, reading your thoughts. “You want me to fuck this cunt forever?” He asked aloud leaning up, pulling his hands from yours. 

You whined at the loss, but the sound died as he pulled your legs up his waist to his shoulders, kissing the scarred calf. He drew his cock out, only to slam back in. “Fuck,” you moaned out, voice going up two octaves. “You want me between your thighs for the rest of my days?” He said again, hips moving faster, your hands moving to your tits as they bounced from the impact. His eyes watched the movement and he bared his teeth again, turning his head to bite into the flesh of your calf. 

“Azriel!” You called out again, pleasure zipped up your spine and you felt your stomach tighten. “Az, baby, I’m so close.” He chuckled darkly. “Be a good girl and come on my cock,” he said as his fingers traced down your leg to find your clit, rubbing the bundle in quick, timed circles. “Az- I-,” you barely got the words out before your orgasm overtook you, a long moan exiting your mouth as your cunt tightened around him, he ground into you and worked you through it, before dropping your legs back to his hips and pistoning deeper.

“My sweet mate,” he gasped at the skin of your throat, mouth tracing up to find yours, hands finding purchase on your thighs as he pulled you open, allowing him dive deeper. “My darling love,” he moaned and his tongue moved with yours, your hips pushing up to meet his thrusts, walls fluttering against his velvet length with the remnants of your orgasm. 

You ventured your hand up his shoulder to the base of a wing and traced your fingers up the membrane to the bone. His eyes twisted shut, and he keened a low primal whine that had your cunt ready to come again. At the tightening of your walls, he groaned dark and deep, shadows seeping from him, as he pushed in, grinding against the innermost portion of you. His hips pulled out slightly and then pushed back in as his cock kicked, come spurting against your walls. He panted against your throat as his hands released their hold on your thighs and moved up your body before grasping your throat. He moved up to lean over you and his eyes found your own. He gave an experimental thrust of his hips and your eyes widened. Fucking Cauldron, he was still hard. 

He laughed then, nuzzling at your mouth as he nipped at your bottom lip. “I’m giving you five,” his voice was deeper than you’d ever heard it, “and then I’m eating my come from your cunt and fucking you until the sun comes up.” 

You gasped out a laugh as your arms wrapped around his shoulders. ‘They call it frenzy for a reason,’ you thought, kissing along his cheekbone and to his mouth. Gods, you were fucked. 

[jaxieus]

Eating Icecream by yourself handsome?

*sigh... get a job

This was mainly more practice with After Effects! And animating in CSP fir the first time in like 5 years! I like how it turned out especially the background.

i think i was able to integrate peri into the scene pretty well though! way better than my first two tries

It was inspired by the Don Bluth backgrounds. They're so breathtakingly beautiful and i wanted to try and capture that nostalgic feeling i get when looking at them

Erm timelapses/Process vids under the cut!

[fourmoony]

Hey! Requesting a Remus fluff where he spots reader in the library and is completely infatuated by her. James and Sirius persuades him to go up to her and eventually builds up the courage :3

hi lovely, thank you so much for requesting! hope you enjoy :) this one realllly got away from me, but I love it sm!!! he's baby your honour...

2.3k remus x fem!reader fluff language

masterlist

Sirius has his feet kicked up on the desk, his chair balancing on its hind legs and if Remus wasn't so distracted he'd probably tell him off, make up some lie about a kid he knew when he went to primary that fell and smashed his head open, caused a scene, traumatised a teacher and a classroom full of seven year olds, the paramedics ended up coming in to do a talk on classroom safety... something like that. Sirius probably wouldn't listen anyway, but at least he'd know he tried.

But he's distracted.

For once, it's not because of James' heavy handed typing as he abuses his poor laptop's keyboard, writing and erasing, writing and erasing. And it's also not because of the obnoxious groan Sirius lets out every few minutes just to make sure Remus and James know he's still there, waiting for them to be done so they can wrap up another week of uni with a few pints at the local pub.

No, today he's fully distracted by something else.

You.

It's not fair, actually. He thinks your beauty is actually hurting him, doing something funny to his heart. Can a person's beauty physically cause heart failure? Chest pains? Maybe an anxiety attack over the existential crisis he's facing knowing he'll never be able to have you? Remus doesn't know, but he thinks James would - he's the one doing his PhD, after all. Not that Remus would ever admit to finding you so breathtakingly beautiful it's causing physical pain. No, Sirius and James would never let him live that down.

So instead, he pretends to read his textbook on astro-physics, everything he's supposed to be revising going straight over his head, while stealing glances at you two tables over. You're in your own world, furiously typing into your laptop, stopping every now and then to take a sip of the comically large coffee beside you. It's midterm season, your large coffee is warranted in Remus' humble opinion. Not that you're even aware he's in solidarity of it. James would probably have some boring medical fact about coffee stunting growth and hormones or some load of bollocks similar, but he doesn't care.

Every now and then, you'll pout at your laptop screen, tilting your head to the side like whatever is on your screen has personally offended you. It makes Remus' heart slam against his rib cage in a totally annoying, embarrassing way he wishes he could make soft. He's not a creep. Really, he's not. He knows you. Somewhat. You've met a couple times when you've been chatting to Marlene - who shares a Comms class with you - either in the library or at the pub on the occasional Friday you make an appearance with your friends. It's not like he's having these weird feelings about a stranger. Well. A complete stranger. But there's just something so startling about how kissable your lips are, so soft looking and pink, and adorable in the way your head tilts like that of a confused puppy.

Your attention leaves the screen in front of you in an instant as if you can feel Remus' pining from ten feet away, eyes scanning your surroundings, and when your eyes meet his, Remus chokes on thin air. Thin fucking air. He's so shocked you've caught him, so shocked you're actually a real person he can make eye contact with and not a figment of his imagination, that he chokes, eyes widening, and looks back down to the text book in front of him. He resigns to the awful feeling of humiliation creeping up his neck, accepts the fate of his crimson red cheeks.

"Subtle." Sirius comments, a sickening smirk that Remus just knows means he's been caught graces the former Black Heir's lips and he'd rather like to kick the two back legs out from under best friend's chair now, thanks.

Even though he knows he's been caught, Remus schools his features, because he's actually very capable of that when it comes to his friends, and returns to his book, flipping the page with what he hopes is nonchalance and shrugs, "Dunno what you're on about."

Sirius scoffs obnoxiously, just like Remus knew he would, and returns his chair back to four legs with haste, arms planted on the table in front of him and a look on his face that reads 'I hate to break it to you, but you're the most obvious bloke on the planet'. "Mate, just go over and put us all out of our misery. It's painful."

"It is, mate." James mumbles agreeably, still very much engrossed in the battering of his keyboard. It's a wonder he hasn't broken the thing, Remus thinks.

Remus rolls his eyes. If only it were that simple. How could anything be that simple when you're so infuriatingly beautiful Remus doesn't think he could get two words in to a conversation with you without making a royal twat of himself.

"You make it sound so simple, Pads, truly." Remus drawls sarcastically, eyes still downcast on the book in front of him.

He hasn't read and actually processed a single sentence since he caught sight of you on arrival. He's well and truly fucked.

Sirius scrubs his hands up and down his face like Remus' hesitance is physically paining him, "C'mon, Moony. They didn't call you the Casanova of Gryffindor House for nothing, mate."

It's Remus' turn to scoff, now. He was hardly a Casanova. Just a nice bloke who girls happened to be attracted to. But that was a private boarding school where girls had no access to the outside world apart from the odd weekend at the school's nearest village. You live in a world with people disposable at your fingertips. Coffee shop baristas, classmates, the people on the commute to your classes, there's an endless opportunity for you to meet someone of interest. And how is Remus supposed to compete with that?

"Not happening. I'll suffer in silence, thanks." Remus tells Sirius, a tight lipped smile about his face that he hopes Sirius will read as the end of the conversation.

Clearly, Sirius is no better at social cues now than when Remus first met him, because his friend rolls his eyes and returns to leaning back on his chair, legs once again kicked up onto the desk, muddy boots falling on a piece of paper Remus knows he'll probably have to rewrite, now. "All I'm saying is what do you have to lose? You ask her out she says no, you go back to staring at her like a right creep from two desks over, or," He makes a flourishing movement with his hands, ever the one for dramatics, "She says yes, you bang, fall in love, get married, have kids, etcetera, etcetera."

Sirius' smile is triumphant, like he truly believes he's some sort of genius and Remus can't help the way his lips tick up in amusement. Maybe he has a point, but anxiety still claws at Remus' chest.

"He's got a point, mate," James has pushed his laptop away from himself, his circular glasses balancing haphazardly on his forehead as he rubs tiredly at his face, "Even if he didn't, I'm still begging you to go over there just to get him," he jabs a finger at Sirius, who preens proudly, "to shut up so I can get this paper finished."

Remus sighs, mulls it over in his head, an endless list of outcomes, variables, it's what his scientist mind is programmed to think like. But he gives Sirius a look, finds his best friend staring at him earnestly, and he realises that Sirius doesn't actually see it as a big joke. He truly thinks Remus should do it.

"Fine." Remus bites, taking a breath and pushing himself out of his seat.

Sirius pumps his fists in the air so violently his chair wobbles, but Remus doesn't look back. If he does, he might turn around and give up, go back to staring from afar. God, maybe he is a creep.

You're so engrossed in whatever you're working on, you don't realise Remus hovering at the seat across from you. When you do, you jump a little, and Remus opens his mouth to apologise, but you're already speaking, a wide smile gracing your lips, features completely taken over by the kindness in your eyes - you recognise him, "Remus, right? You're friends with Marls."

Remus nods, swallows the thickness in his throat. He doesn't trust himself to talk, just yet, so he's grateful when you nod your head to the seat across from you, welcoming him to sit. You half close the lid of your laptop, offering him your full attention and wait patiently for him to talk.

"How are your midterms going, by the way?" You ask when Remus finds himself unable to start a conversation.

You don't seem put off by his apparent silence, more than happy to carry the conversation if he needs. He's grateful, because your direct question has given him a reason to speak, a boundary of the things he can say. He's not worried about shouting just how beautiful he finds you for the entire campus library to hear when he has a strict criteria of answers he can give. Well. He's less worried. It's still not impossible.

"Uh, alright, thanks. You're taking Art History, right? Hows that going?" He hopes he's not misheard Marlene's brief introduction, and he knows he hasn't when you preen at his remembrance.

You nod enthusiastically, hair bouncing over your shoulders with the movement, "Yeah! It's currently kicking my arse, but I'll pull through. I imagine it's not as hard as," you pause, brows furrowing for half a second before Remus sees a lightbulb go off behind your eyes, your smile returning, along with the smooth plane of your forehead, crease gone, "Astro-physics, right?"

Remus tries not to think about the way his entire stomach knots up and threatens to give out over the fact you know what his degree is. There's every chance Marlene has told you, like she told him your degree, but he can't help but wonder if maybe, just maybe, you'd asked about him. Instead, he smiles dutifully, even though he can feel his somewhat calm and collected exterior melting away, "Yeah, astro-physics. But I imagine they're equally challenging in different ways."

You seem to like that answer, following along and nodding amicably to show you're listening, "I suppose you're right. Although, I think you could explain it to me like a five year old, and I'd still be lost."

Remus laughs. Not at you, but at the perplexed expression on your face as you imagine such a scenario. You shake your head out, giving him your full attention again. You're so lovely. So sweet and nice and Remus feels like he might actually have a shot, if your kindness and patience so far is anything to go on.

"If it makes you feel any better, I couldn't tell you squat about the Mona Lisa." Remus shrugs.

It's your turn to laugh, your head tilting back ever so slightly as it rocks through you. The sound is like music to Remus' ears. He decides then and there he'll do anything, forever, to get you to make that sound again. He commits it to memory, allows it to warm his chest, potential heart attack be damned.

"You're cute, Remus Lupin." You're amused as you say it, eyes shining with a kind of fondness Remus allows to steal his breath.

He thinks maybe you don't mean to say it, at first, but when your gaze holds his, confident and teasing Remus knows. He just. He knows. You're into him, too. Maybe not as deep as he's into you, but the interest is there and that's all Remus cares about.

"A few of us are going to the pub in a few for some drinks, Marlene will be there. Did you maybe want to join us?" Remus asks, an uncomfortable heat in his cheeks even though he knows you're likely to say yes.

He chuckles when you pretend to think it over, pout twisting into an amused grin when you go to speak, "Sure, Remus. I'd love to."

Remus feels like he's won some sort of gold medal, maybe the lottery. He's not sure. But what he does know is that his blood is thrumming through his veins in a way it never has before with pure elation. You're grinning ear to ear, already beginning to pack up your things. He waits patiently while you do, following your lead in standing up. You round the table, closer to him, slinging your bag over your shoulder.

"Remus?" You ask, stepping into his space and he can smell your perfume, your shampoo, so sweet he thinks he's going to pass out.

"Yeah?" He asks.

"I only have one condition."

He arches an eyebrow, urges you to go on.

"Next time, it's just us two. A proper date." You smile sweetly, completely unaware of the affect your sultry voice has on Remus' already weak knees.

His breath catches in his throat as you look up at him, your tiny hand encircling his wrist oh so carefully.

"Yeah?" His voice is gravelly, lips threatening to turn up in a wicked grin, "I'm sure we can make that happen."

Just like that, you step out of Remus' space, hand dropping his wrist and your teasing smile falling back into your soft, kind grin, "Great. I'm all yours for the rest of the night, Remus."

Remus almost groans as he leads you back over to Sirius and James, who are grinning like cheshire cats as they pack up their belongings to follow suit with you and Remus. He's met his match, he thinks. You're well and truly going to be the end of him.

Not that he cares in the slightest.

[dorims]

I like the way you make me feel (about you, baby).

gif creds @/cassandrahoward

pairing. roman roy x reader

wc. ~700

genre. fluff

just a morning before work with roman roy

tags. NO beta, english isn't my first language // established relationship, roman's low self-esteem makes a very subtle appearance, suggestive (one line), mentions of roman's slutty waist (literally)

a/n. i love him your honor, thats it. i was also gonna add that for some reason i seem to be keen of writing intimate scenes inside bathrooms but that come outs...weirder than it is lol ANYWAY i hope u enjoy !!

“I have a what?”

You could see the furrow of his brows through the mirror. It made you bite back a giggle, hiding the cheeky smile on your lips behind his shoulder.

“A slutty waist.” you mumbled against his work shirt, pulling him tighter against you. It was impossible not to interrupt his morning routine when he wore those shirts and those pants and when he looked way too good for your own good. Which, to be fair, was more often than not. Regardless, there was something about him in the mornings, when his tie laid over his shoulders unknotted and his hair fell over his forehead free of gel. 

“Uh…thanks?” He looked baffled while making eye contact, and you only broke it when he shook his head, your eyes teetering upwards to see his profile. “Between the two of us, I always thought you were the slut but oh well-“

“That's not how it works!” You laughed, slapping his shoulder lightly. He pulled your arms tighter around him gently, missing the pressure around his body when you stepped backwards. 

It felt good for you too. Feeling the warmth of him after fighting your way out under the comforter made up for being woken up at 6 in the morning by his alarm. 

“Well,” interrupting himself as his fingers fought the silk of his tie into a knot. “I don’t want to be the only one that's getting slut-shamed.”

“I didn’t call you a slut, I called your waist slutty.” 

“Oh, so you’re slut-shaming my waist, same difference.” He scoffed, basking in the way you rolled your eyes as you turned his body to face you. 

He wanted to complain as your arms snaked away from his waist but held back once he felt your fingers pick up both ends of his tie. At this point, he wasn’t sure if it was some sort of weaponized incompetence or actual incompetence that didn’t allow him to tie it properly by himself. A mix of both, probably, but you always did it better than him. 

Plus, if he had to access some weird part of his brain, then he’d have to admit he quite liked it when you let it get tighter than usual before loosening it up.

“You say that as if you’ve never slut-shamed me.” You joked, pretending not to notice how he shivered when your fingers grazed his neck as you flipped the collar. 

“I don't slut-shame you, I slut-praise you.” Smirking as if trying to hide the effect you had on him, he quipped back. His attempt fell flat though. He swallowed down hard when you finished the loop of the tie with a gentle yet firm tug before smoothing it out.

“In that case, I’m praising your slutty waist too.” You let your hands trail down his chest until your grip rested on his hips. Gentle as always, your touch felt all too warm. The mushiness of being tired, you supposed. He thought so too as you pulled him closer, “And I’ll keep doing so because I think you’re,” and placed a gentle kiss against his and then hovering, intertwining each word with another. “beautiful and hot and gorgeous and breathtakingly stunning—“

“Oh fuck off, get out of here.” He broke into a bashful smile, cheeks tinted pink as you punctuated your affection with a kiss on his cheek.

“You’re lucky you’re pretty.” You sighed, pushing yourself off him to let him get ready, though not before lingering against the door frame. “I’m gonna make coffee, you want some?”

He chuckled, “You know we have people to do that, right?”

“I know,” you shrugged, “but I enjoy making some for you.”

You didn’t need verbal confirmation from him. Knowing the answer had grown into a pleasant habit, the same way picking the coffee he liked and using the same brand of low-fat milk had. 

You closed the door with a lovesickness unlike any dripping from a smile of your own. And if he had to access an even darker, twisted and weirder part of his brain, as he had done before, he would struggle to admit that the way you cared made him feel awfully warm, like hinting to the despair that gnawed at the back of his head that he wasn’t as unlovable as he thought. 

[mozeko-moeko]

[phoward89]

Masterlist

Dark!Coryo, Dark!Peacekeeper Coryo, Innocent!Reader, Delulu!Coryo, obsession, manipulation, toxic relationship, cussing, smut

Chapter 7:

“What is there to do around here, baby?” Coryo asked, since he didn't feel like going back to your house to deal with your family, as the two of you cuddled on the bench in the town square after finishing your breakfast.

Honestly, he didn't like your family. For a bunch of dirt poor miners, they sure do act like they're better than him. And that pisses him off.

“Not much.” You simply reply.

“Ah.” Coryo nods. “Well, is there something we can do to kill some time before we have to go back to your house?” Coriolanus has to stop himself from saying deathtrap shack instead of house. Ugh, the place you live in makes him shudder.

“There's a lake deep in the woods a couple hours hike from the Seam.” You tell him, earning a nod. With a smile, you carry on with, "There's a bunch of cabins scattered around it, left from the Pre-Panem days- I think.” Looking over at him, you ask, “Think we could go?”

“If you want to, I don't see why not.”

You omit the fact that sometimes the Covey goes there on Sundays.

And today's Sunday isn't it?

Hopefully you don't run into the Covey because you'd really like to spend a nice hot summer's day with Coryo at the lake.

Coriolanus hated the great outdoors and he hated the heat. Why was it so damn muggy in 12? It wasn't so hot back in the Capitol. Was 12 truly hell, is that why it's so hot?

The platinum blonde’s sweating like a pig, white T-shirt soaked with sweat, as he walks thru the woods with you, side by side. At least your carefree and bright demeanor brings a smile to his face. Even tho he's about to keel over from heat stroke at any moment, at least you're happy. As long as you're happy, that's all that matters to him.

“You'll get used to the summers here.” You assure your boyfriend with a smile while playfully tapping his shoulder with your boots.

You both took your shoes off; opting to walk barefoot what seems like endless miles ago. You convinced Coryo that the long hike would be easier on his feet if he did it barefoot. You also told him that you always hiked barefoot in the woods while going to the lake. That it was much easier on the soles of your feet.

“I don't think I'll ever get used to this heat, baby.” Sweat rolled down Coryo's neck as he slapped a mosquito on the side of his neck. “Or the damn bugs.”

“Yea, the skeeters are bad here.”

“Little bloodsuckers won't leave me alone.” Your boyfriend grumbled, smacking another bug off of his skin.

“Old saying says that skeeters are attracted to sweet blood.” You remember being told that as a little girl, before the war. You were about 4, you think. The memory’s hazy, but you think your dad told you that. But you can't remember what he looked like or anything truly about him to save your life.

“Sweet blood? Oh, darling, that's silly.” Coryo chuckles. Dripping an arm over your shoulders, he presses a kiss to your temple and tells you, “Come on, show me to this lake of yours.”

Coriolanus was surprised at how beautiful the lake looked as the thick woods gave way to a clearing where crystal blue water, a dock, and scattered cabins could clearly be seen. It felt so serene, like a scene out of a Thomas Kinkade painting.

He never thought that something so breathtakingly beautiful could be found in the backwater District 12. But, yet again, he found you in the coal mining shithole, didn't he? Perhaps there are some rare hidden gems in 12.

“Come on, Coryo. Let's go swimming.” You tell your boyfriend, dragging him out of the woods, by a cabin, and over to the dock.

“Do you swim here often, darling?” Coriolanus asks as you come to a stop at where the grass meets the edge of the wooden dock.

“Yea, but not as much as I'd like to.” You answer while you and Coriolanus drop your boots on the ground.

Coryo just nods, quickly pulling off his t-shirt while you pull off your dress. He's slipping out of his denim jeans when you start running down the dock in your bra and panties. He'd rather you be naked, but he doesn't mind seeing you in your underwear. “Just can't wait for me, huh?” Your boyfriend asks, taking off in a run after you.

Giggling, you look over your shoulder as you run faster down the dock. A big smile breaks over both your face and Coryo's as he chases you towards the edge. It's a fun little game of cat and mouse. A game that you win by jumping into the water before the platinum peacekeeper can reach you.

Coryo lets out a genuinely joyful laugh at seeing you jump into the water, causing it to ripple and splash up. Seeing you happily swim in the water, looking up at him with a huge smile, made Coriolanus' heart beat a thousand miles a minute. He couldn't help, but to fall even more obsessively in love with you as he watches you lazily splash in the water, waiting for him to join you.

Coryo ran to the end of the long dock, only to cannonball into the water. Water splashed high up into the air as your boyfriend's body broke the water’s surface; entering the cool cerulean liquid. When his platinum buzzed head pops out of the water, he quickly blinks his icy eyes open and smiles wide when he sees you staring at him.

He swims over to you, only to take you in his arms and break the spell he seems to have over you. Coryo leans in, kissing you sweetly. He smiles into the kiss, causing you to do the same.

Breaking the kiss, Coryo pulls his head back slightly and grins. He begins swimming, leading you further away from the dock. His baritone’s nostalgic as he tells you, “The last time I went swimming was for my gym class at the Academy, back in the Capitol. It's nice to be doing it again and with you, baby.”

“Your school’s gym had a pool in it?” You ask in disbelief, swimming alongside Coryo.

“Yes,” Your boyfriend nods. “It's under the floor and the floor’s cranked open for use of the pool.” Coryo splashes some water at you while chuckling, “But it's getting an upgrade since Strabo Plinth, Sejanus' father, bribed the dean with a new gym to make sure that we both got our diplomas.”

“But why wouldn't you get your diplomas? You both had good grades, right?”

“We screwed with the games.” Coriolanus answers before splashing water in your face to distract you from thinking up anymore questions about his fall from grace. He told you enough about Lucy Gray and his cheating allegation yesterday; today's a new day he wants to enjoy with you.

As long as you're by his side he feels happier, powerful, and like he can do everything in the world.

After swimming for a while, you and Coryo ended up sitting on the dock together. The sun’s kissing your skin, drying it, as you and Coryo dangle your feet over the dock’s edge. Actually, your feet's dangling while his toes skim the water's surface.

You're sitting side by side, just looking at the crystal clear water, the treeline, and the scattered cabins from a time before Panem had exited.

“It's so beautiful here, baby.” Turning his head to look at you, he smiles, “Thank you for sharing this spot with me, it means a lot.”

“You're welcome.” You smile in return. “There's not many beautiful places in 12, but this lake and the meadow behind my street are some of the few ones you'll find.”

“Everything's beautiful in the Capitol.” Coriolanus says matter of factly. Wrapping an arm around your shoulders and bringing close to his side, he kisses your temple and promises, “I'm going to show you the beauty of the Capitol; all of my favorite places once we get the chance to go back.”

You want to believe Coriolanus, you really do, but you also don't want to give your hopes up. The probability that you and Coriolanus will be able to go to the Capitol is, in your opinion, slim to none. You don't want to burst your boyfriend's bubble tho. Not when he seems in such good spirits.

So, you just force out a weak smile. “That sounds like fun, Coryo.”

“Once I pass that exam and become an officer, things’ll start looking up for us.” Coriolanus says, his conviction as sure as stone. “With hard work I'll be able to move up high enough in the ranks to get us back to the Capitol.”

“What if it takes your entire 20 years of service to do that, Coryo?” You wonder as the birds fly around in the blue sky above.

“It won't take that long, my darling rose.” The platinum peacekeeper assures you with a charming smile.

“But what if it does?” You press, wanting to hear your boyfriend's response on the possibility of being stuck in a district for two decades without being able to visit his beloved Capitol despite becoming an officer.

“It won't, baby.” Coriolanus told you before explaining his confident answer with, “My father was a general; was the Commander here during the war. He was able to come and go between his post and the Capitol before he was a general, back when he was just a lower officer.”

Yes, you remember your brother making a remark about Coryo's father being General Crassus Snow. Perhaps your boyfriend has more of an insight on the inner workings of the peacekeepers then you thought he did?

Coryo rubs his thumb into your shoulder, since his hand’s resting on it. “So, I think they'll let me take a furlough to the Capitol with you once I become an officer.”

You don't say a word, just nod as the platinum blonde's words wash over you. You let them sink in, swim in your mind just like your body has swam in the cool water mere moments ago. Coriolanus’ words flood over you, in a way that causes you to understand that being with the Capitolite peacekeeper’s life changing.

“You'd really take me with you to the Capitol for your furlow, Officer Snow?” You asked, doe eyes hopeful as you and your boyfriend locked eyes.

“Of course, I'm taking you, Y/N.” Coryo assures you. His icy eyes roam over your form possessively, taking in every inch of your radiance as he utters in a proprietorial baritone, “You're my girl; I want to show you off to my family during furloughs.” Of course he did, he's so obsessed with you; thinks that he owns you and has to have his family know that. Pictures sent thru the mail can only show off your beauty that rivals that of sunshine and roses. Coriolanus wants Grandma'am and Tigris to meet you, so he can make sure they know that you're now apart of the Snow family; has him enchanted under a spell of love and vice versa.

“I hope your family's friendlier to me than mine is towards you.” You blurt out, watching the reeds around the lake dance slightly in the breeze.

Cattails are bending low and springing back up, over and over again around the water’s edge. “Grandma’am and Tigris will love you because I love you, plus l you're as bright as sunshine- they could never be hostile with you, baby.” Coryo assures you with a knowing glint in his eyes- eyes that are as crystal clear as the cerulean lake at.

It feels as if one minute your sitting on the dock with Coryo and the next he's leaning against a tree trunk, bark digging into his back, as he looks out at the serene scene that's the lake and the long, wooden dock in the middle of it, as your naked bodies grind onto each other. His face is buried in your tits as he kisses, licks, and bites them while bucking his hips up; making your mewl breathily as his long, thick cock hits your cervix with every bouncing movement you make on top of him.

“That’a girl, baby. You're doing so good riding my cock.” Coriolanus grits thru clenched teeth, fighting the urge to flip you onto your back and piledrive into you hard and fast to empty his cum heavy balls. But, he's a man of his word when it comes to you and he did promise you to let you control the pace; to take the lead on top. It's the least he could do after losing control and pushing you too hard last night.

“Coryo…” Your voice trembles as you feel a lightning bolt go up your spine and the feel of his cock hitting your sensitive nerves deep inside of your tight, wet cunt.

“You're close, baby.” Coryo observes between leaving sloppy, open mouth kisses on the top of your boobs. Pulling his head back to look into your eyes, he smirks while sinfully saying, “Can feel it by how your pretty cunt's clenching around my cock, sucking it in with a velvety vice grip.”

“So close, Coryo.” You agree, feeling the knot tightening in your stomach, as you dig your nails into his shoulders- using them as leverage to go up and down faster on his dick.

Coryo wants nothing more then to roughly grab and spank your ass as you quickly bounce up and down on his lap, but he knows that you aren't ready for that yet. It's only your second time fucking and after last night- well…let's just say that he'd rather you think he's a gentle lover for a wee bit longer before he shows his true colors.

Because when he shows his true colors it'll be too late for you to leave him- if you dared. You'd be too much in love with him, too entwined with his soul to ever leave.

So, Coryo opts to bring the pad of his calloused thumb to your clit to help you get off faster instead. He rubs your swollen pearl hard and fast, causing your hips to snap quicker and quicker until you're a babbling mess- crying out his name as you cum with a harsh gush around his cock. Your spasming cunt's milking him dry and before he can control himself, Coryo holds your hips and bucks up into you a couple of times before cumming with a groan; your name on the tip of his tongue.

You go to get off of his lap, but Coryo holds you still by firmly digging his fingers into your hip bones. “Just let me stay inside you for a while, okay?” He asks, needing to feel your warmth around him. Just being connected, all snug and cozy, is a calming balm to the darkness that threatens to overthrow his heart.

“Okay.” You softly smile, resting your head on his shoulder. Your fingers trace patterns over his dog tags as his chest rises and falls beneath your touch.

Coryo’s gazing longingly, lovingly, and obsessively at you while running his calloused fingertips up and down your spine. His touch his barely there, ghost like, but it makes goosebumps appear on your skin all the same.

So, in the late afternoon by the lakeside the girl made of sunshine and roses is caressed and worshiped by the boy made of moonlight and violets.

But Coriolanus was always drawn to roses, perhaps it's because his mother smelled like them once upon a time, but you being as friendly as the sun and as beautiful as a rose is what's damned you to be by his side for the rest of your life.

But you'll enjoy being tethered to him by a suffocating vine, a vine that’ll wrap all around you and keep you bound to his soul. At least the icy eyed young man plans to spoil you with all the luxuries the Capitol has and will condition you to turn your back on the scum you call neighbors and embrace the elite Capitolites he calls ‘friends’.

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[weepynymph]

I gotta talk about this moment even though it's been discussed a million times

Zuko, opening up to someone about his scar for the first time (from what we’ve seen in the show at least, but we can reasonably assume he hasn’t spoken about it like this since he got it) and explicitly stating that whilst he's always associated it with with failures ('the mark of the banished prince'), he's finally ready to take control and change his life for the better. And whilst he has accepted that he can never change his scar, it’s ok because he still has the power to change his destiny.

And despite this assurance, Katara, the healer, still jumps in and offers to heal it anyway, understanding that this is still a burden she could lift from him - 'What if you could be free of it?'

She knows it won't change his life in the same way taking control of his own destiny will, but still, it's like she can't help but try to ease his pain. Even if it's a pain that's long since become a permanent part of him, something that might seem surface level or cosmetic to others - 'It's a scar, it can't be healed.'

And then we have this

'I've been saving it for something important.'

This. Healing Zuko's scar. A wound that has, for all intents and purposes already healed and is not longer a threat to his life, but still burdens him emotionally. That has come to represent all of his trauma. This Katara considers important enough to use her limited and precious supply of spirit oasis water. In the middle of a war. In the middle of a dangerous journey to save the world in which she and her friends might be seriously injured at any time (including in this scene, where Ba sing se is literally under attack as they speak).

And if that weren't enough

'I don't know if it would work'

Now, I don't know the mechanics of spirit water in the atla universe, but it seems to be pretty heavily implied later in the episode when she uses the water to heal Aang, and for a moment thinks that it hasn't worked, that it's sort of a one-time deal.

Which means that she's willing to potentially waste the spirit water just on the off-chance that it might remove the scar. Which in the context of the wider story seems utterly insane.

But Katara thinks it's worth the risk.

And presented with this opportunity, this beautiful, selfless offer to ease his suffering, even on a purely physical, surface level, Zuko wordlessly submits, and lets her touch his scar.

Now, Katara doesn't know quite how significant this touch is (although she's very emotionally intuitive so I'm sure she has some inkling of the gravity of this action) but we do. We know that Zuko doesn't let anyone touch his scar, ever. So what this communicates to us as an audience is that Zuko is allowing himself, for the first time, to put his complete trust in someone. To be completely, 100% vulnerable with them.

And the moment of touch is all the more significant because, in many ways, it isn't even strictly necessary.

Katara's hands are empty, she isn't putting the spirit water to his face, to attempting to heal it here. And while I'd argue this touch could be a practical one - assessing the damage of the scar with her hands to see how to proceed before she uses the water - the moment after, right before they are interrupted, isn't one of practical, medical assessment, but of intimacy.

The way Zuko waits, patiently, eyes closed, and the way Katara pauses, just for a moment, doing what I can only describe as gazing at him, and that slow blink in the middle- Again, not examining his scar or reaching for the spirit water to begin, but just taking it all in.

It's so breathtakingly intimate and vulnerable - a point of connection between these two people who are supposedly so completely different but are, here, somehow so alike in their openness and understanding of one another.

That Katara offers to heal Zuko's scar even when he's said moments before that he's made his peace with the fact that he's never be free of it. And the way he accepts her offer without words because she's right, part of him does want to be free of it.

It's just an absolute masterclass in creating an immediate and powerful connection and bond between two characters in an incredibly short space of time from a start point of complete opposition without rushing it or making it seem implausible.

[hotvintagepoll]

Propaganda

Madhubala (Mughal-e-Azam, Barsaat Ki Raat, Mr. & Mrs. '55)—The Venus of India; heart-throb of all who saw her; responsible for the sexual awakening of every single desi lesbian I know (including me!) And my god, she is breathtakingly beautiful. Look at the subtle grace with which she moves, and that smile - the kind of radiant smile that can make you laugh with sheer delight, or cry because of its hidden pain. Those wild curls! That Cupid's bow! The way she tilts back her head and smiles at you with mischief dancing in her eyes! She has a way of looking at the camera that makes you feel she's sharing a private joke just with you; it's something about that quizzical twist of the lips and eyebrows. As an actress, she is inimitable; she seems to effortlessly inhabit roles ranging from a heart-broken courtesan to a laughter-loving socialite. Fun fact : she's had quite the fan following in Greece! Stelios Kazantidis even wrote a song as a tribute to her.

Olivia de Havilland (Adventures of Robin Hood, Gone With the Wind, The Heiress)— The woman who took on the Studio System at the height of their power and Won! A double Oscar winner! Is magnetic and beautiful in everything she's in and gave us all the juicy scandal with her sibling rivalry with Joan Fontaine! Before the Oscar Slap was the Oscar sister snub! Also everything she wears in Robin Hood she makes beautiful even a purple green and orange monstrosity how does she do it! Anyway this scene is one of my old Hollywood favourites

This is round 3 of the tournament. All other polls in this bracket can be found here. Please reblog with further support of your beloved hot sexy vintage woman.

[additional propaganda submitted under the cut.]

Madhubala:

An icon of Bollywood, who was well known for her beauty and has continued to inspire performances and songs into the 21st century. She was at times described as "the number one beauty of the Indian screen" and "the biggest star in the world".

SHE IS EVERYTHING AHHH. JUST LOOK AT HER SMILE-

She's been nicknamed the Marilyn Monroe of India and was one of the highest paid actresses in the Hindi film industry (the term Bollywood did not exist yet) during the 1950s. Also an extremely talented dancer and singer

SHE'S JUST SO STUNNING, like seeing her eyes IMMEDIATELY CAPTIVATES YOU, THE DANCING, THE BEAUTY!!!!!!!!! She worked in Bollywood for over 20 years and passed away at a sad early age of 36, BUT THE IMPACT SHE HAD WAS UNMATCHED!!!!!

That sassy sideways glance she does always has me WEAK AT THE KNEES. And when she's making silly faces at the camera to mimic someone ahhhh my gay little heart <3

Olivia de Havilland:

She is just perfection. She has a smile that is looks like it is barely holding back, and yet so reserved as well.

Broke the contract system and won freedoms for actors (the de Havilland Law is still in effect I believe). 2 time Oscar winner. Beautiful and smart

She legally challenged the movie studios' unfair contracts and won, setting a precedent for other actors to be treated more fairly. This was at great cost to her financially and essentially getting her blacklisted for years but the resulting judicial opinion is still known as the De Havilland Law and has won her a great deal of praise and admiration.

Her performance in The Heiress is one of my all-time favorites, she’s so good at making melodrama feel real and grounded without sacrificing any of the passion/drama.

Serenely beautiful, she struck a balance between crowd-pleasing fluff and prestigious drama. Famously at odds with her equally successful sister Joan Fontaine, she was too much of a lady to ever say anything public. Successfully sued Ryan Murphy for portraying her as a saucy gossip in Feud.

the period costume + eye patch combo in That Lady is just an absolute serve

She has the most adorable and cherubic face and voice

[pvnks0ul]

me and mrs. wolf (18+)

❊ werewolf/shifter!riri x fem!reader

sypnosis: Riri ends up having to find a creative way to keep you warm during your first camping trip together, you get more than you bargained for.

⚠︎: little plot ⁴ 🌽, kinda terotaphilia¿¿, mentions of hunting & eating wild deer(sry), dirty talk, readers really fucking cold, dom!riri + sub!reader, enlarged clit/girldick, several rounds, use of *mommy* + breeding kink, married au, amateur writing ! + bad descriptions of camping cause im js not built for that lifestyle!!

a/n: this was originally based off that one twilight scene (iykyk🧛🏾‍♀️) but shit really do be happening...🥲

There was no denying the early morning view when you'd first arrived. Selfoss was..beautiful, without a doubt one of the most Ethereal landscapes you'd ever seen but no amount of breathtakingly clear skies or eye watering fields of perfect green grasslands would ever be worth catching pneumonia in the booty hole. You didnt know how much longer you could take before calling it quits and ditching to whatever was closest to a ' 4 seasons round here—quite honestly you were probably already there.

The fire outside endlessly crackled, only reason for it not being put out was because Riri wanted to keep it burning so she could surprise you with dinner. The problem being she waited till the sun had already set to go hunting... Was it obvious she did not have the privilege of cooking very often?

You watched the blurred flames quiver and roar from behind the tents sheeted walls as your teeth clattered at an alarming rate, limbs shivering so hard you'd began jolting randomly to make sure you'd still had control over your own body. But you honestly wouldnt be surprised if they'd all just froze and fell off right about now.

You tried to roll closer to the side nearest of the fire but it's distant warmth only baited you to come outside and embrace it.

And you were so close to giving in if only the sun hadnt already went down, the light from the full moon only something dim compared to the dark forests surrounding you. Riri'd originally asked if you wanted to come with but truthfully your legs were already tired from gathering all the sticks for the pit. The relief she felt when you said you werent feeling up to the chase, especially since you wouldnt be of much help anyways, didn't go unnoticed.

So the agreement was, you'd stay in the tent where she felt you were safest and she'd go hunt alone. A very simple and easy task.

You sat up on the thick foambedding Riri had laid ontop of the built in matt so you wouldnt be laying completely on the ground. And although stocky, the comforter did little to protect you from the chilly air, you had on both your winter coats and one of Riris leather jackets underneath but it was clear no amount of layering would save you— or atleast not with the clothes you'd packed.

you smacked your forehead multiple times over like that would help as you cursed yourself for not going with her. You probably could've convinced Riri to carry you around on her back, if you had.

You poked your head out of the tent and it was nearly pitch black outside, now. The firepit lit up the inside of the empty but tiny lot, just enough to see a few trees surrounding.

The wind blew once more and your ears were starting to burn slightly from how cold it was, even with your beanie on.

By the time your brain had registered what you were thinking about doing, you'd already gotten up & were planting yourself on one of the logs that assisted as chairs. Gloved hands reached out to the fire and only then could you finally feel the slightest umpth of warmth.

You don't get to enjoy the heat for long when a snap of a branch comes from your left, pass the entrance of the camping site and you freeze in place. You try to write it off. You had to remember you were literally in the middle of a forest, it was a given that some wild life would lerk about— and you tried hard to convince yourself that's all it was.

It comes again but dangerously close and your hands drop to your sides faster than your heart to the pit of your stomach, your eyes are wide open, you weren't sure if you were prey but you weren't going to stick around to find out and before the third one can come you've already dashed it back to the little pavilion.

Zipping it up as quickly as you could with shaky hands & thick gloves, covering yourself in the comforter as a shield from whatever could be coming incase it followed you in.

Your breath hitches in your throat as the footsteps near and all you can think about was how much you wished Riri was here to protect you.

The soft thud of something weighty being dropped near your tent makes you jump and freeze out of pure unbridled fear. You have yet to blink, irises shaking and again you feel stupid because the only thing you had to defend yourself with was a lousy clothespin in the front pocket of Riris jacket.

The familiar sound the zipper sliding down sends shivers down your spine and you clutch the small needle tighter, at least you'd be going down with a fight albeit not alot.

You're too scared to even move an inch when you feel a fluffy but ice cold touch on your shoulder. You yelped, moving to a crouch as you held your clothespin infront of yourself.

"Baby, what are you doing?" Riris voice booms & vibrates against you. You can tell she's holding back a laugh by the condescending tone.

You squirm in her grip, trying to turn around in her strong arms,disbelief written all over your face, "You scared me!" you reply with a huff before hitting her hard chest, "Why didnt you say anything when you saw me running?"

"Cause I like the way you run off when you know you're not supposed to be doing something." She chuckles before kissing the side of your face, "Like doing the exact opposite of what was asked when I–"

"Ok, yeah, i get it, damn." you huff and drop your head at the lecture only for her to lift your chin so she can look you in the eye.

She pecks your cheek with chapped lips, forgetting what she was gonna say. Leading you to scoff when she releases her firm grip so she could remove her fuzzy noggin, “But...you were taking too long and i was freezinggg in here."

Riri quirks a brow, smirk festering to the surface, "I took not even 15 minutes."

You smack your teeth at her excuse, "you wouldn't understand." she laughs bolsteriusly, all whites showing as she tosses the hat to the side before seating herself against the back of the tent.

Riri pats the area beside her, "C'mere."

You crawl over to your wife, very tempted to climb into her lap but opting to just let yourself be enveloped when she wrapped her arms around you.

"Fifteen minutes feels more like forty-five when you're dying of frost-bite." you mumbled still not over it yet, snuggling into her, hogging her warmth for yourself.

"Mhmm.." she sighs. She knows that technically human bodies are much more vulnerable than one of her... stature but she also knows when her wife is being dramatic. Her hands rub up and down your back, earning a satisfied hum in response.

Your legs were stretched under you as her thumbs stroke at your cheeks, leaving goosebumps in their wake from how hot they were and it seems the both of you completely forgot about dinner.

She snorts at you before blowing air, "Well, I'll tell you what..If you miraculously manage to make it through the night, I'll get you the finest suite money can buy– in one of those what'd you call if? 4 springs? Gonna get you some proper breakfast and—"

"Mmm, thank god." You quipped before she could finish.

Riri smacks her teeth gathering you at the same time. "Yeah Anyway...all you'll have to do is sit pretty in bed and let me spoil you since you were willing to do this for me." she replies behind a smile before landing a fat peck to your temple, you moan approvingly, nodding as you clutched her shirt in your fist.

"I don't think you understand how much i appreciate it." You lift your head after a few seconds passed and she didnt let go only to find hungry dark orbs staring back at you, falling to your parted lips and then back up. Heat rushes to your face as you look anywhere but at her, "I- I do." an odd burning sensation sets in your core racing all the way up to your tummy.

"Yeah? I bet you still want me to show you though, huh?"

Riri wonders if it'd be selfish to have you right here and now, with how frozen to the touch you were just a second ago.

You grab at her arm, that doting look in your eye that you get when you're too shy under her gaze to speak your mind and she hastly decides it's not. That infact, the little action she's seeking would be helping you in the end.

So she drops her arms from around your body, shaking her jacket off and quickly undoing your puffy winter coats.

She pushes you onto your back without a word. You make sure your silence isnt mistaken for no, helping her in her mission to unbutton the first layers of jackets and slide them away.

Riri bellows at this. You always looked so pretty under her and it was a sight she'd never want to forget. She wastes no time climbing over you, straddling your thighs between her spread legs and leaning down to help.

She doesnt even need to survey once, rough hands just pulling and popping the zippers on the last few, "Ah–! Hey-" Riri brings her lips to yours in a means to shush you but she can't stop herself from the wantonly aura that read it was her who wanted more, her thumbs fumbling with the end of your shirt before yanking it up & over your bra. She grunts into your kiss a subtle, "Shut up, you won't even need them."

Your eyes flutter shut as you arch into her and there's no further argument. Just you kissing back with just as much fervor now, your hands grabbing the back of her neck and holding her closer. Riris hard fingernails scrape against your stomach as they made their way up to your breast, she fondles you gently through the fabric, circling her thumb in search of your nipple and pinching it between her index when she finds it.

You whimper into her mouth desperate for more but all she responds with is before doing the same to the other breast and pulling your bra down under the cusps of them once they'd pebbled hard enough.

She leaves you with a sweet kiss, then a peck that has you blindly chasing after her but you can't get far with the way she holds you down. You whine, bucking your hips up mindlessy absolutely desperate for any kind of friction. What you find in it's place takes you by surprise. You gasp before feeling at the bulge in her pants. Riri tenses on the spot, cursing under her breath before grinding into your palm.

"You brought your strap all the way out here, Ri?" you giggle while tugging on the tent in her pants.

Riri shakes her head, "No, I–!" she shudders when your hand moves even just a little bit, "No. It's all me." your eyes widen at her words.

You're immediately curious, feeling her up through her pants. Your fingertips going over her print and it's long, the thickest you've ever attempted to wrap your hands around. Your hands move lower and riri twitches up again. Right between a familiar set of puffy lips is where it sprouted and you're still a little in disbelief.

Riri holds your wrist in place, guiding it up and back down to the curved base. You can feel her hardening under your touch and it's oh so surreal. After a few more strokes you're already huffing under her, pupils pitch black & fully blown and she knows you're getting just as worked up.

And the shock of it all is not what you choose to focus on, if Riri says it's all her then you believe her. But that also means she must feel so suffocated in her tight-fitting boxers.

The first time you tried to move your hands away to pull at her pants, your reprimanded immediately. She takes it upon herself to push your wrists over your head, holding them in one hand, her extended claws were sharp and marking the skin just a little.

"Need t-to know if i can fuck you..." she whispers directly into your ear, your thighs clench beneath her at the blatant vulgarity.

Your words were caught in your throat in the middle of all of this. Riri takes advantage it, kissing over that side of your face multiple times before making her way to your neck, you gasp, opening your legs mindlessly and Riris already centering her bulge in the middle of your covered achy lips.

She whimpers because of how sensitive you managed to make her, abusing your swollen clit through damp fabric, frantic for a release and she needs to know if you're ready now more than ever.

Riri holds onto the back of your thighs, rolling her hips "Please.." she begs for what seems to be the first time, big brown eyes darting everywhere on your face, bursting with impatience, she felt like she was going to throb herself into a slow release.

You nod your head quickly, she could have whatever she wanted from you right now. Riri sighs before releasing your hands and you already know not to move them.

Riris anxious fingers fumble around for your leggings, tugging and tossing them to the side somewhere.

Your scent is strong and it takes over her senses completely, she almost puts her own needs aside just for a taste, an you can see the complexity in the pinch of her brows as her figure loomed overtop of you.

Evidently she made up her mind as the pads of her fingers now slid down to the edge of your panties and you can see her physically fighting the animalistic urge to rip them off of you. She utilizes her middle & ring, roughly dragging them to your ankle, letting you kick them off before she dips them lightly between your sticky lips, you hiss, giving it your all to not shut your legs around her fingers as she enjoyed the slick.

She decides it was enough with the waiting, you clearly needed this just as bad as her. Riri unbuckles her cargos, sliding off her boxers aswell.

Small desperate pants slip past your lips at the sight of your wife, taking in her muscular form but, what really captures your eye is the pretty little trimmed patch of curly hair sprawled down her abs. Your hands have a mind of their own as you grab her hips with one and claw at her toned tummy to her sport bra with the other.

She bites down on her bottom lip before swatting at you, "Fuck– Alright baby..." she speaks as she collects your wrists in one of her hands... again. She maneuvers your legs up to your chest, so she could appraise your gaping hole; so patiently awaiting her arrival.

Riris holds the tip of her erect clit in her hand, bringing it over yours and rubbing it in the wad of spit she just landed there, letting you grind up as you pleased till she had to go back down.

"Oww– huuh, ohh!" You whimper out the first words you'd spoken since she started this whole thing as she smoothly inches her way pass your entrance. Riri herself, is left hissing when she finally breaks through the ring, grazing each side of your walls effortlessly.

Your head tilts back upon entry, mind going blank as you grasped the comforter under you, needing something to keep you afloat. You're suffocating her and she's barely had a taste. she pushes further until your pelvics meet, bottoming out in one strained push.

"G–god damn." Her clit throbs inside of you, giving you more to stretch around in case you were becoming too accustomed with it the first time.

Riri murmurs more curse words under her breath from the way you clenched and halted her in place when she attempts to move. Only wanting to set a slow but satisfying rhythm to get you both used to the other.

She holds you down with one hand to your waist, pulling out to the rim of your pussy and then slamming back in. She moans louder, getting loss in the immediate pulsing of your gooey walls.

"Yes, Riri~–!" Your eyes roll as she starts to pick up the pace, fucking you harder into the matt. Not even her biggest faux piece had made you feel this full— you want some more and right now.

Her labia kisses yours as she digs deeper into you, strings of your arousal mixing with her own. "Fuck y/n." she whispers your name behind an exasperated grunt, pounding into you harshly as she held onto your waist.

Your face feels like it's on fire and your belly is rapidily turning, you were right on the cusp of an orgasm and too fucked out to warn her.

Yet you tried. You tried jerking on her clit to still her movements. But it only excites her more. She growls in response, "Mmmn—!" slapping your breast and biting her lip till she could taste iron when it bounced, ignoring your yelp completely, "Keep pulling on my shit, baby."

It grows again, the heads vibrating as your pussy adjusted around it and if it weren't for the constant sloshing from the mix of both of your releases against the other, you probably would've heard the humming.

You cry out at the stretch, pushing at her lower stomach to slow down but she simply smacks at your hands, "Nah, this is what she wants– look how she takes me. Don't be greedy, babygirl." Riri taunts referring to the loud squelch of your pussy every time she thrusted just a bit.

Your eyes roll to the back of your head as she shook the whole damn mat, "Riri—! I can't—" you try to fixate on the place where your body met hers, clenching around her again, throwing her off balance and she gives up on the steady strokes, "Gonna nmph—! Fucking fill you deep if you do that shit again, Mhmm.." She starts pistoling her hips into you, sloppily creating a dripping mess between your bodies, "..make you have all my babies."

You probably looked like a googly eyed fool with the way they rolled to the back of your head at her rambling, you want it all so bad, you felt delirious.

Your legs lock around her hips as you moaned out a chant of her name, clamping down on her clit with a deadly vice and her head falls back instantly, she lets you have it. Riri holds your lower stomach with her palm, hips stuttering as she ruts against you, desperately using you to empty all her nut into.

The silky straws of her cum are so warm and it makes you have an explosion on your own, your cream gushing and mixing with hers, leaking out of your pussy straight down onto the flat bed because that's you were too stuffed to keep any of it in.

And eventually all of the thick liquid combined slowly pushes her out completely.

Riri looks down to find her clit twitching, absolutely drenched in cum—she's not sure who's– still dripping from the ring formed near the base and that was surely your work.

She gets more aroused at the thought. Rubbing at your sensitive inner–thigh, ready for another round and apparently you were too by how they ease open for her.

"Can you give me a color baby?" fingers moving up to your silk-covered folds.

You blink slowly at her, nodding as you grabbed at the wrist of her curious fingers, "g–green.."

Riri bobs her head, trying not to let her smirk suffice. You're shaking, still on the cusp and yet you want more? what a slut. she hides it by kissing all over your face, making you whine when she got everywhere but your lips.

Your arms are quick to wrap and lock around her neck, pulling her down to you and Riri has to stifle a laugh at how desperate you were acting. Knowing she can't go on long when trying to resist you, she let's you win this battle.

This kiss was different then the first, you had her by the little strands of her neck hair, moaning into the hot kiss when she bit down on your lip, your mouth opens, accepting her tongue and you can feel her shaft poking and twitching with want against your lower stomach as she licked & searched every bit of it..

This kiss was messy & frantic, something that described the both of you to a tee in the exact moment.

Riri growls again, muffled but it still makes your head spin. You arch your back into her, the bottom of her clit rubbing ontop of your own and you have no choice but to leave the kiss, your head falling back in defeat as she kept rolling her pelvic against you.

"Ri! Wait, please–! just wait!" You were gonna cum if she kept going and hard, your body wouldn't have been ready for that yet.

You're flanking against each rushed thrust, as she panted heavily, "shit!shit!shit!" grunting lowly but with your constant running the satisfaction wouldn't be the same.

So Riri stops, she unravels your arms from around her body and sits back on her knees, "Come ride me." she bids, eager to have you all over again while licking at her lips, moist with your spit and cherry balm.

Your mouth gapes open as you stared at her. She purposely moved to the opposite end, knowing you would struggle to make it over there. Ri sits flat down on the mat now, her legs spread and clit swaying proudly over her lap and all you can do is bat your lashes pathetically.

You felt as if you were glued to the bedding with the way you body refused to move. Riris mean– she's so mean when she laughs at you. Shaking her head and crawling back over to you on her knees.

She stays silent as she pulls you into her chest before maneuvering your body the other way around. She pushes you roughly back down into the sheets, "Since you don't wanna listen."

Your brows raise for the first time as you weakly held yourself up on your elbows. You almost speak up but you're interrupted by the sound of a loud moan when she enters you again, moving without giving you a chance to adjust.

"Never gonna be able forget what this pussy feel like, baby." she murmurs softly despite her hard & cruelly plodding pace.

Her hands dig back into their designated slots on your waist and you drop your head, admittedly liking the harsh way she fucked and used your body for her own selfish needs. "Feel so good!" you mumble drunkenly.

The outburst earns you a slap to the round of your ass. You yelp, pulling off to the tip of her clit. "Eugnh! Fuck!" Sticking your back out, approvingly.

"Who told your ass to move?" she growls while roughly yanking you back to her mound, you mutter a meak apology that means nothing to riri as she clenched her teeth, watching you make a mess of her clit. She plays with the globes of your ass, spreading them pleasantly as you formed an unnatural arch trying to push back into her, feening for it.

"Yeah, baby? You like this position, huh? Dirty girl."

You only nod but riri corrects you, a crackle hits the air when she drops her open palm on your ass again, "Talk back to me."

You whine, arms giving out and slumping down to just your elbows, "f-fuck yes, mommy!"

Riri coos before slapping your ass again right in the middle as she snapped her hips, "You want it faster? Huh?"

You moan, "Yeah–!"

"Work for it then." riri sighs out cooly while stopping immediately against you.

Your knees shake pathetically as you immediately try. You throw it back for the first time, just tightening around her and hoping it'd be enough.

Riri squeezes the flesh of your ass in her hand in return having you curl into yourself at the satisfying burn, she bumps you against her until you were able to fuck yourself off her.

"See– shit! You know what you're doing baby."

Riri catches what you throw, grunting dirty pleasures into your sweaty neck, as you led her closer to a final climax.

"My good girl..Damn.", "Fuck, look how you working this shit."

You were brought to the final straw when she brought her hands under your body, pushing her way into your sloppy folds so she could rub at your small clit and ease your nerves. It jolts you again, but you don't run this time, just grinding down into it. You're sure to alert her though. An ear shattering, "M'gonna cum so hard mommy shiiit!"

"And mommy really wants your cum, pretty." She fucks you harsher, pulling you back and forth on her clit so hard you were gasping out at each one, the head tickling your cervix and pushing you further into your orgasm. "C'mon then."

"Ahh! Oh! M'gonna–so close shitghh–!"

Your orgasm racks through your body hard, you can't even keep up with riris strokes, letting her fuck you through your high and then you're clawing at your pillows tryin to get away. She keeps going until her hips stutter into an climax, exploding and pounding it into your coated walls until the high had escaped her.

You cry out finally sliding off her piece and closing your eyes, thighs still shaking just a bit as you went through the motions all over again. Your stomachs twisting and pulling and you dont even feel like turning around the right way– just wanting to catch your breath.

You're trembling slightly when her eyes set back on you, she can tell you're not all the way back yet. She moves between your legs to rub at your thigh and she finds it burning to the touch, problem solved, she smirks proudly.

Riri sits on the same log you had, the muscles in her biceps bulge as she grips the buck by its front and back legs, laying it flat with a thud much louder than before, using her extracted nails to get rid of the rope she tied it's ankles with in one simple swipe.

When you finally come to and realize she's not by your side, you're immediately jolting up, thinking she left you again. You're quick to take notice of the thick comforter keeping you tucked in. It still hurt to move, your body was so sore but you were more determined to go find Riri.

You toss the blanket over, revealing a fresh set of the aforementioned girls sweatpants snug on your legs and you can't seem to remember how you even got then on.

you groan obnoxiously, lifting yourself up to properly rub the sleep out of your eyes, "Riri!?" your voice was hoarse from *the possible* hours before.

You hear a faint "outside!" and have already kicked into your winter boots. And Riri doesn't need an announcement of your presence, she can feel you idling close by and pats her thigh, you gladly squeeze your way into her bulging arms, wrapping your own around her waist but under her puffer so you could steal some of her body heat.

Riri gets side tracked once again, with your weight ontop of hers, completely forgetting about dinner for a split second as she wraps her arms around you and hoists you further into her lap, her head falling comfortably ontop of your chest while your arms become a cloak around her neck.

She breathes in your scent a little and goosebumps are sprouting under the thick garments now, "Don't you wanna know what happened?"

"mhmn." you shrug your shoulders, you weren't really sure at all, mind still hazy and too busy dozing off in her arms. She was naturally very warm & cozy, almost like a living teddy especially when wearing the fluffy coat you got her and your thoughts becoming pinkish brown mush, vision slowly becoming black dots filling in a canvas as you pressed tighter into her hold, were evidence of that.

The doe-like fluttering of your lashes has her stumped, she's not going to make you stay up since it was her fault you were so worn out in the first place but, she was going to make sure you ate first.

Apparently, you ended up falling asleep against her somewhere down that line anyways because when you next open your eyes, its with a tubberware bowl full of some sweet smelling soup in her lap and a silver utensil, pokin your lip. You furrow your brows, still not all the way up yet and Riri chuckles, "Try it. It'll warm you up a little bit more."

You happily encourage her spoonfeeding it to you after this sliver of information, humming at the unique taste once it hits you. How she was able to skin and gut that deer with you in her arms the entire time, still unbeknownst to you.

This was supposed to be for Halloween but.. Well, I'll think of an excuse & comeback later 😚

🔖: @sapphicbarbz @shurislover @s0lam33y

(ty @lppriceisright for proof reading another fic for me!)

[pandorasword]

Chaeri as the 8th and youngest member of BTS.

CHAERI'S MASTERLIST

PTD On Stage in LA | Day 3

❒ genre: Slice of life

❒ words: 972

❒ summary: In which Chaeri uses Tae's beauty to her benefit

❒ prompts requested from the dialogue prompts game: “Wow, I really can’t speak, huh? Must be because of how pretty you look”

She was never good with words. She preferred facts: solid, reliable, hard to misunderstand. Words, on the other hand, always seemed elusive, ungraspable, especially when she had to use them in English. The situation worsened drastically when she found herself in front of thousands of people, right after singing for two hours non-stop. What was so difficult about a simple 'thank you'? For her, it was a real mystery. In fact, she didn’t believe a speech was necessary to express the emotion she felt every time. Hearing her songs sung by so many voices, with different accents, but with the same passion she put into them… she was sure it was evident during her performances how much she appreciated and was grateful for everything.

But it should be considered that those who cause their own misfortune should weep for themselves. She knew that day would come. She had all those years of experience and a highly competent team to ignore the inevitability of that moment. She could have taken the time to prepare a few sentences in English, memorize the pronunciation, and say them on stage. Instead, look at that, she had done nothing and couldn’t even remember why

In just a few seconds, all the times she had literally fled the room when she saw the English coach enter came back to her. It was almost like a scene from a cartoon: he came in one door and she scurried out the other, as if her only purpose in life was to avoid that conversation.

She had to refrain from slapping her forehead for being so stupid and irresponsible. She was still on stage, under the gaze of thousands of people.

Tae had just finished his speech. His English was insecure, his pronunciation questionable, but at least he had said something.

That evening, he stood out among the other seven, entirely dressed in red with a mask on his face, he had fun dancing and singing in a costume inspired by the Squid Game series, which had conquered the world in record time. And the crowd was ecstatic. A true show genius, born to capture attention: that's who Kim Taehyung was.

A shiver ran down her sweaty back, a testament to the hours spent jumping and running, reproducing the choreographies she knew by heart for that performance. 

It was her turn to speak.

With an uncertain gesture, she brought the microphone to her lips. Embarrassed, with no idea what to say or how to formulate a coherent speech, she searched the most remote areas of her brain for a foothold, a memory, or anything that could help her find the right words.

Then, suddenly, the screams of the crowd became so loud that they overwhelmed even her chaotic thoughts. Behind her, on the huge screen, appeared Taehyung who had removed his mask. 

And, damn, he was breathtakingly beautiful.

At that moment, a fleeting memory from a few days before came back to her: she remembered Namjoon, visibly irritated, trying to watch an episode of Friends. The younger members of the group were making noise around him, forcing him to restart the same part of the episode several times because he couldn't hear the lines.

Yes, that line she had heard repeated at least five times was perfect, and luckily, it had stuck in her mind.

She turned towards Taehyung, just a few meters away from her. The blue lenses of his eyes shone under the reflection of the multicolored stage lights, accentuated by the glows of the armybombs not far from them.

“Wow, I really can’t speak, huh? Must be because of how pretty you look”

The crowd roared in approval, shouted for the interaction, clapped for the way the boy's cheeks turned red, almost as red as his costume, because of the unexpected compliment.

The rest of the members burst into laughter, teasing Taehyung, while she realized that the attention from her speech had successfully been diverted elsewhere.

What a perfect end, she would have shaken her own hand in congratulations.

Later, in the backstage

“Chaeri-yaaaaa, you made me blush like crazy out there. Did everyone notice?” said Tae, walking beside Chaeri, an arm around her shoulders and almost all his weight leaning on her, partly from the exhaustion of the evening, partly because he loved to tease her.

"Every single person here saw how red you got" Jimin replied with an amused smile before the girl could, taking the perfect opportunity to tease his group mate when he was usually the butt of the jokes.

"Aish" Tae sighed theatrically, faking a look of devastation "my reputation as a tough guy is ruined because of you, Chaeri-ya."

Chaeri raised an eyebrow. “When have you ever had a tough guy reputation?” she said with a playful tone

"Hey, you" a sarcastic, accusatory tone came from Namjoon as he approached the trio, who were dragging their feet, destroyed by now, along the floor, hoping to reach a place where they could sleep for hours. Many hours.

"Don't think I didn't realize you did it to avoid the speech you were supposed to prepare for tonight" Namjoon looked at her with a look that said it all, the look of someone who raised you and knows all your little tricks. 

"Oops?" she looked at him, softening her eyes and curling her lips a bit to look more innocent - which she wasn't - and more forgivable - her behavior was absolutely unforgivable -. 

"So you didn't think for real that I was so handsome to leave you speechless?" Tae had pulled away from her half hug to look her in the eyes, his tone high-pitched.

"If it makes you feel better, I really think you're the prettiest of us all" 

"Ha! Did you hear that, Hyung? I really am the prettiest"

taglist: @alixnsuperstxr | @bts-dream | @enchantingbrowneyedgirl | @ycuvi | @cosmicwintr

[whateverisbeautiful]

What a joy and an honor to have loved Richonne's epic love story as hard as we could while we could. 🥹

Richonne means so very much to me and always will. To say their story has impacted my life for the better would honestly be an understatement. Rick and Michonne and their journey together from season 3 to TOWL played a part in keeping me going because life gets hard but the love captured between these characters is such an inspiring light that is exquisite and powerful and worth sticking around to behold.

And while 'it feels like it's ending'…it’s like Michonne said - they don’t die and neither does the love we have for them. We’ll be able to cherish Richonne and every single breathtakingly beautiful moment they gave us always. Richonne are the ones who live, the ones who love like no other, and the ones who will eternally hold a special place in my life.

This one-of-a-kind, out-of-this-world, moving beyond-words love story between profound soulmates Rick and Michonne Grimes - two of the greatest characters in media brought to life by the phenomenal Danai Gurira and Andrew Lincoln, two of the greatest actors in the craft - it lives on forever. And for that, I’m truly thankful. 🤍

Rick and Michonne got their happy ending with their precious children. 😭 They won. We won. 🙌🏽🎉

Also! In honor of that deleted picnic scene, (which I would have loved to see make the final cut) I just thought I'd share my little headcanon ending scene. A few days before the towl finale, I had this vision of a Grimes Family picnic moment being the final shot of the show, but of course, my vision includes a Carl cameo to complete the Grimes Family moment. This is what I had written down and imagine as a day for their family now that they're back together as they're meant to be:

Rick and Michonne have another Family Fun Day picnic with their kids. There’s this calm quiet moment where Judith is snuggled up to Michonne happily reading the book her parents brought home for her on the blanket, RJ is resting with Rick’s arm around him, Michonne is nestled by Rick’s side, and then Rick looks out and sees essentially the spirit of Carl standing from afar. Rick and his son share this warm smile as Carl gives a proud nod signaling this is everything he’s wanted for his dad - to feel safe and happy with their family just like Carl wrote to Rick in his letter.

And then Michonne looks at Rick and asks, “You see something?” And Rick just looks in Michonne’s eyes, smiles at her and says a content, “Yeah” before kissing her - finally seeing and experiencing the family he thought he’d lost for good but they’re all with him now. And then it ends with Richonne doing their signature thing of holding hands while enjoying this hard-earned and much-deserved day of peace with their family.  🥰

That, along with the abundance of golden moments we actually got within this miniseries and the main show, is how I'll forever remember my beloved Richonne and their Grimes family. Resilient love personified. It's been an unforgettable journey and I'm grateful for every part of it. Thank you, Andy & Danai. Thank you, Rick and Michonne. Long Live Richonne. 👑

[jade-green-butterfly]

🎶Forever and ever! You'll stay in my heart and I will love you~! (Forever) Forever! (And ever!) Ever! We never will part, ooh, how I love you~! (Together!) Together! (Together!) Together! That's how it must be to live without you, Would only mean heartbreak for meeee...! Only mean heartbreak...for me...~🎶

I know my birthday was four days ago but I REALLY wanted to share with you all one of my magnificent birthday gifts, which I lovingly received and was wonderfully done by my lovely One-san, @kaitlinexe on the big day~✨🤩🎊💝 It features my most beloved and top OTP of all time, Coossy (💜🧁Cooper x Jussy a.k.a moi🦋💚) starring in one of my fave scenes from Sing 2 featuring the classic hit, 'I Say A Little Prayer' 🎤🌟Kaitlin said both and song really fitted me and Cooper, and she's SO right! >W< It totally does~!💗😍💗 But seriously, words cannot describe how absolutely gorgeous this masterpiece looks...from the stunning poses to every fabulous detail~ 💖🥹 EEEEEE~!! It's just SO beautiful-!!💓😭💓I really truly love, love, LOVE it so to the stars above~!!🌟🥰❣️❣️🥰🌟

Thank-you ever so, soooo much, my dear Kaitlin!💞🫂💞This treasurable piece really made my special day, and you have captured Cooper and I ever so perfectly and preciously together in this breathtakingly romantic moment~!✨💜💗💚👏🏻🥰 Keep up the awesome work!👍🏻😊💝And you all love as much as I do too, enjoy~!🫶🏻😉💕xoxo.

*~Reblogs are also deeply appreciated as well, so please do reblog as well as like! Thank-you kindly!~*

Trollsona Jussy/Justina Butterfly (c) @jade-green-butterfly (Me~!)

Cooper (c) DreamWorks Trolls/DreamWorks Animation

Sing 2-Inspired Coossy Birthday Gift (c) @kaitlinexe~💜

'Say A Little Prayer' sung by Tori Kelly & Pharrell Williams