#this also makes her decision to cut her hair so much better

[villanelleskiss]

when i was walking through zora’s domain and reading the zora history markers, i found one that sidon had written about zelda. how she had come to the domain, weeping and begging for forgiveness bc of what happened to mipha bc she felt responsible for what had happened. it speaks so many more miles to her character than we had already known (as if the light dragon wasn’t enough) and that it does confirm she solely blamed herself for the champions deaths and the absolute love she has for her people 

[wtfsteveharrington]

after midnight | carmen berzatto x reader

summary: chicago is expensive, okay? so you pick up a job outside of the restaurant which just so happens to involve your camera. everything's fine until richie stumbles upon the website and shares it with camry.

contents: perv!carmy, male & female masturbation, sex toys, dirty talk, cam sex, slight dub-con kinda if you look for it. carmy’s honestly a wreck. mentions of unprotected sex, choking, oral sex, overstimulation. please note!! no formal intercourse takes place yet but it's cuming coming but ya girl wants a slow burn

reader description: she/her pronouns, there is semi a hair scene but i use no real descriptors so still vague!

word count: basically 3.9k

author notes: first fic in a year baby and boy did i lose the plot!! filth!! also i sure love saying fuck in this so enjoy that

part two

★–————————–

Richie’s voice is annoying. It echos, ricochets off the walls, and can’t be contained by even the highest quality of sound proofing. Which is why, at 8 in the morning, Carmen’s already considering having to take Excedrin as Richie bursts through the doors. 

“Carmy, Cousin, you’re never gonna fuckin’ believe what I found last night.” He’s out of breath after running in, fumbling around with his phone in a rush to pull something up. He’d spent all night contemplating if he texted Carmen or waited to show him in person. Ultimately the urge to see his reaction won but that didn’t stop Richie from waking up before his alarm out of excitement. “Listen, we’re both grown ass men so I’m gonna say it -“ he’s glancing around to make sure they’re alone, “- So I’m laying there and jerkin’ my shit, right?” 

Carmen’s wincing, pinching the bridge of his nose and contemplating every decision that brought him back to Chicago. 

“Dude, fuck off. I don’t wanna hear -“ Richie tsks, cutting him off. 

“Nah, shut the fuck up because you wanna hear this. In fact, you’re gonna wanna fall to your knees and kiss my shoes and praise my ass as a thank you for finding this.” 

He’s holding up his phone, an iPhone 8 he refuses to upgrade, and illuminated on the screen is a video of you. You, on your knees, in lingerie. You, with your fingers dragging down your chest, across the lace that covers your breasts. Your head falls back as you run your thumbs across your nipples. A sound so angelic coming from your lips that Carmen starts to understand why people spend so much time at Church. He’s convinced you’re hand carved by God, or Buddha, or whatever might be up there. 

Carmy’s instantly feeling a rush of heat across his chest and his cheeks as he takes the sight of you in. It feels wrong but at the same time the coiling in his stomach feels so good he can’t look away quite yet. “Why the…” He’s cut off by a whine coming from Richie’s speaker as you keep teasing yourself. His brain is frying for a second as he tries to focus on finishing his sentence. “How the hell did you find this?” 

“Listen, sometimes I get bored on the same ole sites, okay? Clicked an ad to see who was live and ended up here. Now I stopped watching, obviously, out of respect but this? I’ve known you long enough to know when you gotta thing for someone and you’re not gonna act on it. Also, I caught you staring at her ass as she filled the deep freeze the other night. Kinda gave it away. So this is the way you can still get some pussy while being a fuckin’ pussy.” Richie’s punching the air, clearly proud of himself.

Carmy’s smacking him upside the head, his body now torn between lust and annoyance. “Watch your mouth, alright? That is so fucked, Richie. Put that shit anyway and I better not see you tell a single other person this exists.” 

And yeah, he took note of your screen name before he walked away. Don’t judge him. 

———★–————————–

Look - There have been a lot of times in his life where Carmen hasn’t been proud of himself. But settling back into bed, hooking his thumbs on the waistband of his boxers and pulling them down to rest under his balls? Yeah, he’s not proud to say the least. After seeing even just the glimpse of you this morning though it’s been all he could think about. The. Whole. Fucking. Day. He watched out of the corner of his eye while you bent over the line to scrub down the wall behind your station tonight. Burning to memory the way your ass just slightly jiggled from the aggressive motion of wiping down the surface. A soft grunt coming from you as you reach for something just a little too high. He finally snapped out of it when the smell of the chemicals he sprayed down on his own surface got a little too strong and refocused. 

He wasn’t proud when he ran to the restroom and contemplated just jacking off over the toilet to get some relief. You were clouding his brain, only the rush of the evening giving him some small relief. 

You seemed vocal in the small clip he saw. He’s wondering if you would have asked him to cum for you. Would you think it’s a waste that he’s cumming down the drain instead of covering your ass with it? Filling your mouth and making you swallow every drop around him? Or, Jesus Christ, would you wrap your legs around his waist and beg him not to pull out? 

So yeah. Carmy’s had quite the fucking day to say the least. 

He’s finally home and running straight to bed. His stuff dropped in a heap by the front door and was easily forgotten. Throwing himself back onto the mattress after ripping off his shirt and his pants. Left just groaning into the empty room, his cock twitching at the thought of you. Your page has been sitting on an Incognito tab all day and it’s finally, finally being loaded up. This feels like an invasion of privacy in a way but Carmen can’t quite think logically with how heavy his balls feel and how painfully hard he is. There’s not much time to spare so he clicks the first video you’ve uploaded that he can.

And there you are. 

Sitting in the middle of a big bed and rubbing your hands along your thighs, smiling at the camera. His heart is twitching, cock is twitching, everything is fucking twitching. And you’re just sitting there, licking your lips and sliding your hands under the thin material of some weird lace one piece he wants to rip off. 

“Hi there, Pretty Boy.” Your voice is music to his ears and Carmy can’t take it any longer. His fist is wrapping around his cock, a broken moan filling the room as he finally gets some relief. “I’ve been waiting for you to come home all day.”

Sue him, but he’s skipping ahead a little. There’s not much time until he cums and he needs to see you. All of you. He’s gripping his phone with one hand, bringing the other that’s around his cock up to his mouth to spit in. His thumb is haphazardly trying to keep the phone balanced while scrubbing through the video until he thinks he’s at a good spot. You’re laid back now, thighs spread for the camera and pussy on display. Carmen’s muttering to himself about how gorgeous you are, longing to tell you in person. You’re holding this royal blue dildo in your hands that’s suddenly his biggest enemy. He deserves to be there, not this stupid, useless chuck of silicone. There’s a whimper from the speaker as you take the toy and slide it along yourself, tapping it twice against your clit. “Fuck, I need you.” 

Fuckin’ hell does he needs you too. 

His fist is clamped around his dick once again, fucking his hips up into the the slick, tight grip. You’re still teasing yourself by sticking just the head of the dildo in before gasping and pulling it back out. “Please, Baby. I need you so bad, need to come for you.” His brain is breaking. An animalistic urge taking over to fuck you until you can’t move, can’t think, just a blubbering mess begging him for more. Without warning you push the dildo all the way in, throwing your head back with a pleasured scream. 

Carmy gasps, hips sputtering and losing their rhythm as he watches you fuck yourself. He’s stroking himself at the same pace you’re moving the dildo, imaging it’s you he’s fucking into. Picturing you laid under him, your breasts covered in hickies because he hates the idea of these… Perverts watching you get off. He wants to mark you, claim you as his. His balls are tightening and he can’t think of the last time he came this quick. It’s almost embarrassing - What are you doing to him? 

Your free hand comes up to shove two fingers in your mouth, lewdly sucking them for the camera. The sucking noise now accompanying the wet, addictive sounds of your pussy being fucked. Carmen whimpers, actually fucking whimpers, and twists his wrist over his cock to get a little more friction. Your voice hits him once again as you slide your wet fingers out of your mouth and down your throat. “Oh fuck I’m so close. So, so close. Are you close, Baby? Want you to come with me.” You’re lightly choking yourself, a whining mess. 

Carmy’s aware he’s talking to an empty room but he can’t stop himself. “Fuck, oh fuck. Gonna come for you.” And his stomach coils, hips sputter, the phone falling to the bed as he has to let go of it as his orgasm washes over him. He’s slack jaw, warm cum landing on his chest and the sounds of you finishing at the same time ringing out from his phone. 

Oh he’s so fucked. 

————–——★–————

Carmy slept well for once in his life. His orgasm lulling his body to sleep, dreams filled of you. How beautiful you look sucking his cock. The way you must sound while he eats you out. And he takes his time in his dream. Tongue dragging between your folds as his rough hands hold your hips in place. You’re powerless, made to lay back and let him eat you out for his own pleasure. Tongue circling around your clit but he waits until you’re close to tears to stop teasing. He’d praise you. “Look how fucking wet you are, Princess. You’re already getting the bed wet, aren’t you? Gonna have to lick you for hours to get you all cleaned up. Can you say please, huh? Ask me to suck on your clit, Baby. You know you need it.” 

He woke up hard and overstimulated, rolling over onto his stomach and pathetically dragging his hips against the warm bed to get some much needed friction along his cock. Carmy’s telling himself how pathetic this is and forcing himself to push off the bed and get into the shower before he’s late. 

Yes, he jacked off in the shower before work. 

He had to. 

Carmy can’t decide if it’s heaven or hell when he walks in to see you standing in the kitchen. 

You’re on your tiptoes, balancing haphazardly as you’re reaching up to change the light. There’s a wobbly step stool under you. Everyone keeps saying it needs to be replaced but it continues to live on. Your face is scrunching up in concentration. Carmy’s chuckling at the sight and ignoring the way he feels his balls tug at the sight of you. “What’re you doing there, Chef?” 

You huff in annoyance, finally untwisting the light cover from the ceiling. “Damn light went out right as I started veggie prep. Hate to be a bother but will you come spot me while I’m up on this thing? I’ve seen Fak bust his ass one too many times to trust it.” 

Carmy can’t verbally respond at first, instead stalking over to stand next to you. His hand comes up to cup the back of your knee and he’s lying to himself saying it’s for your own safety. To keep you balanced. “Yea well something tells me you’re less clumsy than Fak. I’ve seen that guy fall over while just standing still.” 

And you laugh. 

You laugh. At him. At his joke. He, Carmen Berzatto, made you laugh. The sound filling his ears and now his damn heart and balls are both reacting to you and what the hell is he supposed to do with all these emotions. 

“Don’t distract me up here, Chef.” He doesn’t mind taking commands from you. Silently reaching up to hold the light fixture you’re passing him as you change gears to switch out the lightbulbs now. 

And maybe his eyes are wandering around the kitchen to see who else might catch a glimpse of you two together. Everyone who’s in so far is honed in on their prep task and Carmy thanks God that Richie hasn’t shown up yet today. 

He’s become quite faithful since he started falling for you it seems. 

It happens, by chance, that you feel a little unsteady and Carmen tightens his grip on the back of your leg. Fingers digging into your soft skin. He’s looking down at the stool to make sure it’s level before looking up to take in the sight that is his hand around your leg. 

And he stops looking there. 

Okay fine that’s a fucking lie - he’s looking up. Eyes trailing up your thighs, following along the curve of your ass. When you have to lean forward just slightly to twist in the light cover he’s convinced he can see the outline of your pussy through the thin material of your leggings. He’s contemplating his options - If he could, would he lean in and lick over the outline? His warm mouth teasing you through your leggings. Through your underwear. Are you wearing underwear? He’s torn between picturing you with or without them. 

Or would he slide his hand up your leg, palming your thigh as he goes. Cupping over you and dragging his middle finger across the shape of you. Memorizing the feeling. Would you whine? Grind down against his hand? He doesn’t think you’d shoo his touch away. 

God he just knows you’re a needy little thing. 

He wonders what it would feel like for you to lick your own wetness from his jaw after he’s decided he’s done savoring you. To taste you on your own tongue when he kissed you after. You’d look so pretty with his cum dripping down your lips too. All fucked out and exhausted and full of bliss. 

“Okay, I think I got it fixed, Carmy.” God, he’s so fucked for thinking of you like this as you’re innocently changing the light. Just trying to improve the kitchen and he’s thinking about ruining you. He was so caught up in daydreaming that he didn’t even feel you take the light cover back out of his hand and screw it into place again. 

You’re beaming down at him, using his shoulders as arm rests as you bounce down from the stepping stool. His hand grazes your ass - A total accident. He swears it. You reach behind him to sit the screwdriver down, your chest firmly against his. Nothing thinking anything of the personal space violation as you’re used to it from so many slammed nights in the kitchen. 

“Thank you for helping me. Sorry it was basically just five minutes of my ass in your face.” Carmy chokes. 

His cheeks are hot. 

Fuck is he blushing? 

He’s sputtering out of his words. “It uh, it wasn’t in my face. Not that I looked, y’know. Just uh… Just - just trying to say that I’m happy to help.” He sounds like an idiot

You’re cocking an eyebrow, clearly entertained. “Holy shit, Carmy.” You pat your hands against his chest, not knowing your touch was like fire on his skin. He grabs the screwdriver and makes a beeline to the office to put it away for you. 

Sure he grabbed a rag on the way. No it’s not for him to jack off into while he thinks of you. 

Okay fine, it is. 

“Fuck me.” The only thing Carmy can risk trying to say as the door shuts heavy behind him and his pants hit the ground. 

———————–★–———

Carmen doesn’t avoid you now but he certainly makes it hard to get close to you. He’s too distracted when you’re around. Maybe there’s a bit of guilt mixed in too at his new night routine. Leave the restaurant, load your page, and wait to see what happens. New videos? New pictures? You were wormed into the back of his brain and it had to stop. 

So your station got moved further down rotation. You’re at the end of the line on the left, he’s at the start on the right. It helps clear his mind, lets him hone in on perfecting what goes to the floor. 

He’s able to move quickly, shifts blowing by as the restaurant’s rush takes all his attention. The clock clicks down two minutes till close, everyone working in silence to get the place flipped and go home. He’s wrapping up with Syd, helping her make a few adjustments to expo before grabbing a dead plate off of the end of the line and heading to the office with his food and a cup of water in hand. He needs a mental minute, a bite of food, and to let his thoughts all catch up. 

The door’s already cracked and he’s halfway through the entry way when he registers you. Sitting there. At his desk. Your legs are crossed, a cool damp towel resting over your eyes. He wants to turn on his heel and retreat but decides that he can’t treat you any differently just because he’s developed some silly little crush. Running away would be treating you different. 

“You good, Chef?” 

To which you groan. Different from the ones he’s used to - This one is guttural, pained. You press your hands flat against the rag and will the cool temperature to help the pressure in your head. “Killer migraine, that’s all. Shit was moving so fast tonight and I wacked the back of my head on something in the walk in. Sorry for being in here, Carm. Just uh, needed a second.” You should push up out of the chair, show your respect. But right now you’re half convinced that standing up would be detrimental so for now you’re cemented to the seat. 

“Heard.” Carmen nods to himself, sitting down the plate before opening up the desk drawer as quietly as possible. Your knee is pressing into the side of his thigh, grounding and warm. He fishes out a bottle of medicine, shaking out two pills. “Hold out your hand.” 

You take a second to brace yourself for movement, sitting up and moving the towel off your eyes. Letting it pile up into a clump on the desk besides you. There’s no way around it - You look pitiful. Pouting up at Carmen as he hands over two pills and his cup out water. You take the pills diligently, taking a few gulps and letting your eyes fall back closed as you will them to kick in instantly. “Can I ask a favor?” 

“Anything, Chef.” 

Slowly, so not to shake yourself up, you turn the chair until your back is to Carmen. “Will you see if I gotta bump back there? Kinda terrified I gave myself a concussion but I don’t wanna believe it was that hard.” 

He snickering, a grin pulling up the corners of his mouth as he steps closer. “Well you’d absolutely fuck me if you needed to file workmen’s comp so I’m gonna need you to be fine, ‘kay? Way too much fuckin’ paperwork to do on a Friday night.” You start to laugh but it’s quickly cut off into a small groan of appreciation as you feel warm, rough hands clasp either side of your shoulders. 

Carmen works his way up your neck and catches himself holding his breath as his fingers brush along your scalp. He’s taking his time, savoring the moment, all under the pretense of taking care of his employee. That’s all. “Think we’re both in the clear. You feeling alright besides the headache? Need me to hold up some fingers for ya to guess? Haven’t managed to cut any off so we’ve got all ten to work with.” He’s got you laughing again while rough fingers work their way back down to your neck. The feeling of the vibration of your laughter against his hands sending chills down his back. 

Wordlessly Carmen gets to work rubbing your shoulders. Tender, deep. Years of practice rolling out dough and desserts and tenderizing meat coming into play as he continues to knead away at your tense body. You let out an appreciative moan and Carmen has to start thinking of something to keep his inevitable hard on from being obvious. 

When his hands come up closer to your neck once again he’s hit with flashbacks of the first video he watched. You choking yourself — Is that something you truly liked? If his hand came around to cup your throat, palm resting on one side with his fingertips firmly against the other, and lightly squeezed would you moan? Rub your thighs together in search of some hint of relief? 

“Are you always this good with your hands, Chef? Hmm? Can’t imagine you giving Marcus this treatment.” You’re laughing and can practically hear the smirk in Carmen’s voice as he responds. “Yeah - You uh, didn’t know that? I just love you know, rubbing shoulders. It’s my thing. Kick your ass all night and then rub the stress out.” 

He’s blanching a little at his reply. Kinda obvious but okay then, Carmen. You reach up, putting your hands atop his with a little smile. “Well thank you for… Rubbing my stress out, Chef.” 

Carmen’s red. Head to toe just bright red. “Of course, Chef. Anytime.” He’s entertaining to say the least as you pat his hands before spinning around in his chair. You snag another drink of water, throwing him a wink before moving to exit the office. Your hand runs along his chest, an appreciative gesture, as you head back to the floor. 

——————————★–

Late Saturday night Carmen’s so exhausted that he barely has the energy to take his work clothes off. Falling haphazardly onto his old couch, kicking his work boots off one at a time. His eyes are heavy, body aching, and he almost falls asleep before he gets to see you. 

But he’s fishing his phone from his pocket, refreshing the all too familiar landing page to see you’re actively live. How you have the energy is beyond him. 

You’re standing there trying on clothes that someone must send in and Carmy feels a pang of jealousy. He’s watching through half hooded eyes as you slip in a pair of shorts, turning your behind towards the camera and pulling them up just slightly to put more of your ass on display. You’re chatting away about the material while slowly pulling them down to reveal just this frilly little pair of panties that was sent in as well. 

He’s propping the phone up on the armrest of the couch, laying on his side while he watches you chat away. It’s soothing. Almost like an ASMR video. 

Carmen’s not sure when he fell asleep - Somewhere in-between you trying on a third outfit and attempting to clean up your bed from all the packaging. He finds you soothing, comforting. He makes a mental note to hunt out some sort of wish list you must have for these items before passing out and, once again, dreaming of you.

[utterlyotterlyx]

Another Love

Azriel x Fem!Reader

Based on this ask

Summary - Azriel knows you'd never leave his side, no matter what, but when his new situationship with Elain takes over his every living moment and he takes advantage of your feelings, you make the only decision you can to save yourself only for him to hurt you in a way you never thought he could.

Warnings - ANGST, mega fluff, swearing, neglect, abuse of feelings, mentions of death, slight grovelling (I’m more of an epic admissions girlie you all know this), lots of sadness.

Word Count - 4.9k oops

The clock ticked away, idly counting the seconds by, seconds that turned to minutes, and minutes that turned to hours, hours that Azriel had seemingly forgotten about the promise he had made to take you to the theatre.

The cobalt blue bow in your hair, that you had chosen to perfectly match him, swayed sadly as you moved about your room with a heavy heart, hanging up the dress you had bought especially for the occasion and changing into something more comfortable to wallow in self-pity.

It had become normal, his lateness, his nightly visits became later and shorter until they had stopped all together, well, that is until he needed something from you, and you would give him whatever he asked for, no matter how much it hurt you.

You had been a part of the Inner Circle for over 500 years, you were one of the originals, growing up in the camps with Rhys, Cassian and Azriel, Rhys' mother protected you fiercely, and you were very close to Selene, your chosen sister. You were the one they turned to for everything, you were wise and brutal, an incredible warrior and tactician, but also soft and kind; you were the blue break in a sky of storm clouds, you were the spring breeze that cut through the edge of winter, you were everything.

A thing Azriel knew all too well.

It didn't surprise you when Azriel had become fond of Elain, like it didn't surprise you when he had pined after Mor for all those years, completely looking over you in the process. Elain was a soft and fragile thing, she was quiet and graceful, and Azriel was completely besotted by her. A fact that made your heart curse your stupidity, cursing the hope you had willed into it that maybe he would finally see you.

It was no secret that you and Azriel were the closest out of all of the members of your growing family, you had shared 500 years of respect and adoration for one another.

Azriel was by your side when Selene had so brutally lost her life, he had held your hand through the depression and brought you back to life. Azriel knew every single thing that you loved and hated, he knew what every facial expression meant, he knew every tick of your body language which silently conveyed how you were feeling. Azriel knew you better than anyone, even better than he knew himself. The map of you laid etched bare on the back of his hand, a map he used to scour daily, but now barely even glanced at.

It wasn't so one sided.

You knew Azriel better than anything, and you knew a lot. 500 years of life pointed to a rich knowledge. You were the one who cleaned him up after a mission, you're the one who mended his broken bones and washed his turmoil away. You were the one who helped him overcome his insecurities with his hands. You were the one his shadows shot to at family dinners. You were the one who sang him to sleep when his demons had become to much. There was nothing you wouldn't do for Azriel, even if it meant standing on the side-lines until he wanted you.

Moonlight streaked along the floor of your bedroom, cascading across the pale blue of your comforter and drifting along the edges of your antique furniture. The dress you had wanted to wear to the theatre hung off the frame of your mirror, rippling softly in the gentle breeze that entered through the slightly ajar window.

It was silly to feel upset, you knew Azriel didn't owe you any of his time, but you had really thought he would pull through, especially after you had told him how much you missed spending time with him.

Interrupting your damaging thoughts, your door opened to reveal Azriel, who looked annoyed and not at all in knowing of his lateness or the promise that now lay in tatters in your chest. From the look on his face, you knew instantly that Elain was the one who plagued his mind, she was the cause of it every time he had come to see you recently.

Huffing, Azriel trudged to your cream living area, propping his feet up on the antique table you had asked him to be careful with far too many times and sinking into the cushions. He hadn't spared you a glance as he entered, he didn't note his colour in the form of a bow in your perfectly styled hair, he didn't see the sadness in your eyes laced with that naïve hope that he may have turned up to apologise for being late. He didn't see you.

"What happened this time?" You inquired, wrapping yourself tighter into your robe and sliding into the seat beside him, tucking your legs underneath you and propping your head in your palm as you stared at him.

Azriel was beautiful, scars and demons and all, the height of his cheekbones, those hazel oceans of a thousand emotions, the golden skin and arched brows, the curve of his muscles under his second skin, everything about him was intoxicating.

"Lucien," Azriel through his head back and closed his eyes, breathing deeply through his nose, "I was so close to kissing her, so close, Y/N. And then Lucien walked in, he ruined it."

The revelation had stung, he'd never admitted to you to being close to kissing Elain before, it was always a myriad of stolen glances and ghosting touches, of hushed words laced with a million differing meanings. But never a kiss.

Azriel paid no mind to the hurt that radiated from you, he knew it was there, he always knew it was there but he couldn't focus on it.

Only an idiot could be blind to the clear feelings you had toward Azriel, the way you looked at him was not the way a friend looked at another friend, no matter how close they were. Azriel knew that he could never truly push you away, no matter how much you were hurting you'd never leave, he knew that, he knew you'd always be there for him to fall into.

It was so awfully wrong, but he lapped in serenity you gave him, in that unwavering loyalty, and he had no intention to stop drinking from your fountain of love.

"Lucien is her mate, Az. He's bound to not like whatever it is that's going on between you," your voice was gentle and full of understanding, your hand rested on his shoulder and he felt any anger disappear almost immediately. That's what your touch alone could do to him, bring him immeasurable peace.

"I know," he sighed, opening his eyes and turning his head to the side to look at you, a small smile tugged at his lips when he noticed how pretty you looked, with your hair parted just how he liked it, and with a bow tied neatly at the back, "I still think that the cauldron was wrong," your face faltered when he immediately continued on his weekly rant, "It gets it wrong sometimes, we know that. It's wrong, it has to be."

All you wanted was for Azriel to be happy, he deserved it more than anyone you knew. Rhys had found Feyre, who you adored tremendously. Cassian had found Nesta, who had become a very good friend of yours. So, you couldn't blame Azriel for believing that Elain was fated to be his, three brothers for three sisters. Even you had to admit that it made sense, The Mother moved in mysterious ways.

You plastered a smile on your face, you vision catching the satin of your new dress moving softly against the breeze, "Maybe it is," Azriel hummed at your words before continuing on, listing everything he adored about Elain.

"I wish sometimes that she was you, you know? That her and I could be like this, with no one watching over us, to be able to spend time alone and do whatever we wanted to do and talk about anything," it was like he didn't realise what he exactly he was wishing for.

Azriel wanted you to be Elain, so that he could have the life he dreamed of. Elain. Not you. Elain.

You weren't good enough for him.

"I hope you get to that point one day, Az," your voice was strained from holding in your strangled sobs, "I'm tired, can we talk about this more tomorrow?"

"Sure," Azriel smiled at you, rising from his seat and heading to the door, standing in the doorway and looking back at your form still glued to your spot, "I like your bow, Y/N. Blue suits you, always has," and then he closed the door behind him, you waited a few moments before letting your sobs flow through your lips and ripping that damned bow from your hair.

Azriel would never see you the way you begged to be seen, and you couldn't sit around and be the one he fell back to when life wasn't going his way.

More days had passed, more days of Azriel complaining to you, more days of Azriel wishing that Elain and you had switched paths so that he could finally get what he was owed.

Azriel didn't care for your tear stained skin, he didn't care for your weary eyes whenever you spoke of Elain to you.

It was awful that he knew exactly what he was doing, he was abusing your relationship with him, he knew you'd never walk away from him, he knew you'd never be able to put your foot down and tell him to cut it out.

The idea of a mate had him completely obsessed, obsessed to the point that he became blind to what was right in front of him, what had always been in front of him. That blind faith in your loyalty crumbled in his fingers once Rhys had told him that you had decided to purchase your own home in the city, a home away from them all.

"What?" Azriel had asked from his place at the dinner table, bewildered by the news given to them once he had asked where you were.

Nesta knew the exact reason why you had decided you separate yourself from them, you couldn't handle the rejection anymore, and you couldn't begin to heal from the decades worth of heartbreak under the same roof as Azriel and Elain. Nesta knew you held no ill feeling toward her youngest sister, you were too kind for that, you knew it wasn't her fault that Azriel came to you each time something went wrong in their situationship, but that didn't make it hurt any less.

"She left, Az," Mor had cried when Rhys had pulled her to one side that afternoon to tell her that you had decided to move into the home that Rhys had bought you after you had made it clear that you needed your own space, and Rhys had spent an hour trying to convince his cousin that your decision was not impacted by anything any of them did.

"Why didn't you tell me?" Azriel asked his brother who frowned, Feyre grabbed Rhys' hand and squeezed it in hers, "She can't just leave, Rhys."

"She has every right to after everything she's done for all of us, she deserves some peace," Rhys spoke calmly, snapping his fingers and allowing the sentient home to rid the plates and serving dishes from the table.

Azriel was speechless, he felt a frantic pull in his body, one that was poisoned with desperation at the thought of you being anywhere else than under the roof of the River House, the home you had spent a century redecorating and perfecting, paying special attention to each room to make it feel as homely as possible.

He didn't believe it as his chair groaned against the floor and he took off up the stairs toward your room, pushing his way through the doors to find it completely empty. No pictures hanging on the walls, no lines of hooks containing an array of ribbons in different hues, no dresses draped over your mirror, no antique furniture. It was all gone, and the scent of you that was usually so strong that it drowned him was a whisper in the atmosphere.

You had left.

Anger bubbled within him, how could you leave without saying anything? How could you move out of your shared home without a single word? How could you leave him after 500 years at his side?

Azriel flung open the doors to your balcony, a balcony plush with fresh flowers and greenery, he flexed his wings and hurtled himself into the starlit sky, allowing his shadows to peel from his body and search every inch of Velaris until they returned to him reeking of your scent and pulled him down to a small townhouse along the bank of the Sidra.

It was a charming home, pale brickwork, large bay windows, golden light emitting from them, and a large garden full of rich wildlife and botanicals. Your scent flowed from the closed oak door, lavender and honey with a hint of firewood and he found himself following that smell up the winding path until he was knocking on your door.

Golden light flowed from the home as you opened the door. You were dressed in denim overalls that were spatted with cream paint, you hair was loosely bound on the top of your head, and your face was full of uneasy surprise as you looked at him, "Az, what are you doing here?"

Azriel pushed past you and stood in the centre of your hallway, listening to your deep exhale as you closed the door. The space was pretty, it was very you, the walls were half painted cream from their original sage colour that you were obviously painting over, the coving was white and saturated with intricate little sketches of leaves, the carpet was a rich brown and had clearly been laid that day from how interrupted it looked, the only pattern on it being the imprints of your bare feet. Azriel didn't stop his shadows as they extended from him and scoured each part of your new home, nodding with approval and curling around your fingers in understanding adoration.

White sheets were draped over your perfectly placed furniture, to protect it from the paint no doubt, and the same tarp lay at the foot of the walls to protect the carpet. Music drifted softly about the room, and boxes upon boxes of books lay open, with some of them idly placed on shelves to get them out of the way to be sorted properly at a later date.

"It's true? You've really left," he noted the intricately presented kitchen, white cabinets and exposed wooden beams, just like you always wanted.

You rounded him, walking into your new living space, bending down to pick up one of your plant pots before placing it on the window ledge, your back faced him but he could see the pain in your features through the reflection in the window, "Yes, I live here now."

"No. No. You're coming home with me, this is ridiculous," his heart was beating a mile a minute, he couldn't think straight, all that was consuming him was the reality that his fear had come to fruition, that the one person he believed would never leave him had actually walked away.

"I'm not coming back, Azriel," you told him softly, and he saw your shoulders rise and fall with each deep inhale of breath you forced your lungs to take.

Then you turned to him, in the middle of the home that you were trying to make yours, a home away from him, "I thought you'd never leave me. You can't leave me. You're my best friend, I need you."

"No, you don't. You need someone to fall back onto when life isn't going your way, that's all I am to you now," you felt your heart breaking, you felt it shattering in your chest, "I can't be the one you turn to when something becomes between you and Elain. I can't be the one you wish was her. I can't do it anymore, Az. You've taken advantage of me for too long. You promise me the world and show up empty handed. You don't realise I even exist until you need someone to complain to and I just can't do it anymore."

Azriel knew every word you were saying was the truth, he knew he had been using you, but he never expected you to actually walk away from him, you were supposed to love him too much to leave.

Your heart was in the palm of his hands and he knew it, he knew you'd spent hundreds of years falling deeper in love with him each passing day whilst he pined for someone else. The fact of your departure made a bitter monster appear in his mind, he allowed it to tug on the venom in his heart, he allowed it to control him, "Aren't you supposed to be in love with me?"

Azriel watched your eyes widen and a breathless gasp fall from your lips, "You know?"

The Shadowsinger scoffed, "Of course I know. Only a fool wouldn't be able to see it," he saw your face contort into painful sorrow but did nothing to stop himself from saying, "I've known for years. I've known that you'd never leave, you've always been the one that I come to for anything I need and you never complain or tell me to leave. You made it easy to take advantage of you."

A tear slid down your cheek but Azriel made no move to wipe it away, "I want you to leave."

"I'm not leaving without you."

Fire roared in your eyes, "You have no right to command me after what you've knowingly done. I honestly thought that you didn't know, that it was innocent and that you just needed my advice. Now I know that you've willingly abused my kindness, Azriel, you can rot in hell," the tears didn't stop flowing from your eyes, your voice was strained and sore, your chest was so tight that you thought it may stop beating all together, "Get. Out!"

Azriel had left you then, he had left your door wide open and soared into the skies, leaving you in the home that was now tainted by his deceit.

It had been months since Azriel had seen you, Nesta and Feyre had practically forbid him from going anywhere near your home, that being from the land or sky. But that didn't stop him from allowing his shadows to slither under your front door or linger in the streets, he was desperate to know how you were.

Azriel hated himself for what he had said to you, he hated himself for taking advantage of you. In some way he tried to justify it, you were too good for him, he didn't want to ruin you, but it was clear that he already had.

Your absence had left a void that no one could fill, not even Elain despite her efforts, even the thought of her made his stomach drop and sickness swirl to the point where he couldn't bring himself to be around her. All Elain did was remind him of how he failed you.

Azriel had tried writing to you since you wouldn't see him, he gave the letters to Feyre and Nesta, the latter of which still saw your daily, and grew colder toward him with each passing moment. Even Cassian did nothing to hide his disappointment in him, and Rhys had some very telling words to express once Feyre had told him the truth of what had happened in your home that night.

Nothing was working, things with Elain were strained and difficult, the problems between them so raw and everyone's opinions so disapproving that it created a distance between them that was unmanageable.

Then it dawned on him that nothing was working with Elain because it wasn't meant to. The person who was meant to be his had been under his nose for 500 years, and now wanted nothing to do with him.

Cassian had pulled Azriel from his thoughts by stepping through the threshold of his room, "Are you coming to training?"

"Tell me how to fix it," Azriel lifted his head from his hands and turned his head toward Cassian who sighed in reply, moving to the bed to sit beside Azriel, "I need to know how to fix it."

"Only you can figure that out, Az," Cassian spoke to him, throwing his arm over Azriel's shoulder before continuing, "Y/N loves you Az, she has for 500 years. A few months apart won't change that. You're really fucking stupid for this though, she's the only one of us who knew the exact right thing to do and say every time. Y/N deserves more than the basic requirements of respect, she deserves the world in the palm of her hand and a person who loves her more than he loves himself. Don't bother her unless you can do that."

It was the anniversary of Selene's death, and the day hadn't gotten any easier for you to deal with.

Rhys and you had made a habit of doing something together each year, though, Azriel was the one to accompany you when Rhys had gone Under the Mountain. The location was sacred to you, you and Rhys would bundle yourselves up in blankets and watch the sun set over the Sidra, you'd rehash old memories and stories, ones that you both knew the script to by heart, but that never got old.

Your High Lord had tried to convince you to come home, but didn't push you when you had told him no. Your life had began to feel rather empty without the family antics that consumed your day-to-day life.

"I miss her," you had told him sadly, your head rested on his shoulder as the sun tipped her toes into the water in the distance, the sky grew darker each passing minute.

Rhys hummed, holding you closer to his side, "So do I," he replied with equal sadness, you had all grown up together, you basically were his sister by blood, and when you both had lost her, it only made him clutch to you more, "She'd nail Az's balls to the wall for sure."

A laugh passed through your lips before it died in your throat, you had done your best to not think about Azriel despite him owning your soul, you had done your best to heal from what he had done, but even then, you missed him more than anything, "How is he?"

It was the first time you had asked about him since before you had moved to your new home which was now fully decorated and yours, thanks to Rhys, Feyre and Nesta who made it their priority to help you settle, "He's-" Rhys couldn't lie to you, he was never able to even when you were younger, "-Not great. He misses you, he hates himself for what he said to you that night."

"I'd hate myself too," you had hummed, shifting to stand on the stone ledge where you and Rhys had sat, wanting a better view of the sun as it began to disappear against the horizon.

A familiar cold kiss pecked at your ankles and you looked down to see those shadows you had missed so dearly meandering around where you stood. Cedar entered your lungs and you shivered in painful delight as his warmth curled around your back.

"Y/N," his voice was deep and rough, it was pleading, you looked to your side and found that Rhys had vanished. That damn meddler. "Please look at me."

Not able to say no to that voice, you indulged the Shadowsinger and turned on the balls of your feet to peer upward at him. Azriel had his wings neatly tucked behind his back, his hands dangled at his sides, and his head was hung low. He looked terrible.

"Why are you here?"

Azriel clenched his jaw, he didn't expect you to be happy to see him, but it didn't stop the self hatred from growing in every single cell of his body, "I know how hard today is for you, I just wanted to see if you were alright."

"Well I'm fine, so you can go now," you made a move to walk away, to take the path down the edge of the Sidra to your home which had become your haven away from reality.

Though, you didn't get very far, perhaps two steps before Azriel's fingers curled around your wrist, stopping you in your tracks and pulling you back to him, "Y/N, I don't even know how to apologise in the way that you deserve. I don't know how to say sorry and make you feel like I see and hear you."

"What I did was disgusting, I hate myself for it. I never should have taken advantage of you like that, you've done everything to help me the entire time that I've known you and I ruined everything for someone I don't even want. I've always wanted a mate, you know that, and I got so carried away with wanting it that I completely ignored the only person who's ever truly loved me for me despite all of the horrid things I have done. Elain isn't you, Y/N. No one compares to you. No one makes me feel safe like you do, no one makes me feel alive like you do, and no one can make me hope for death by their void like you do."

"I am yours, Y/N. I always have been. I couldn't be the reason you ever got hurt, I couldn't be the one to risk extinguishing that glorious fire in your soul. You are the only one I cannot bear to lose, the thought of losing you terrifies me, it always has, and instead of protecting you, I took advantage of you and pushed you away because I would rather hurt someone else with everything that I am than hurt you with just a a part of it."

"I'm so stupid for ignoring you, I'm a prick for using you as my security blanket rather than let you in, you know me better than I know myself, you love me more than I could ever imagine, and it terrified me because I couldn't let myself love you. I couldn't let myself taint you."

Azriel lifted his hands, cupping your face in his palms and you could see every inch of despair within him, that conflicted flame dancing within his soul, "I'm not asking you to forgive me, I don't think I will ever be able to forgive myself after what I've done to you. I'm not asking for anything from you. I just need you to know that no matter how severe your storm, I promise I won't leave your side, I'll stay with you through the howling winds that whip my cheeks raw and red. I will stay and hold you when the night leaves you shivering and give you space when when your searing heat pushes you into a fiery rage. I will stay and love you in whatever way you crave, whether that be from next to you or from wherever you cast me to."

"Azriel-" tears flowed freely from his eyes and you knew he meant every word he was saying. Every single word was being plucked from the core of his essence.

"I know that you're scared, and that you don't trust me. I'm scared too. But you're the only one I can face love with because I only want to feel it with you. At the end of the day I want it to be you and me, I want your early mornings and late nights, I want you on your good days and bad. I will never stop wanting you. I will never stop needing you filling my lungs like oxygen and giving me life."

Azriel dropped his forehead onto yours, and you felt your own cheeks dampening from your own tears at his words, "I love you, Y/N. I will always love you, even if you don't want me to, even if you decide to walk away from me I will not stop loving you. I am so thankful for you, and I know I haven't shown that, but if you give me one more chance, I will show you exactly the man you have made me into. I will give you the world you have always dreamed of. My soul is yours until you stop loving me. Please. Please."

"I can't stop loving you, Az. I've tried but I can't and I don't want to," his thumbs wiped your tears away and you found yourself reaching to rest your fingers on the marred flesh around his wrists, "One more chance. Don't fuck it up."

Azriel pressed his lips to your forehead, relishing in your warmth as you bundled into his chest, "You're mine."

"Take me home, Az."

"Yours or mine?"

You grinned against his chest, "How about ours?"

Authors Note

I really hope this does the ask justice x

Alternate ending incoming 👀👀

[girlokwhatever]

⚘⋆.ೃ࿔✧*ੈ˚ ༘♡⋆❀ she loves me, she loves me not,,

part 2 ; discover me and reality

previous part - next part

paige bueckers x fem!reader (fake dating trope)

the gravity of your situation didn’t sink in until the next morning. a few of your friends messaged you during the night, some of them including girls from the basketball team. apparently bianca had posted all about it on her finsta, dissing you and paige and claiming you were a ‘cheating slut.’

you also noted quite a few missed calls and texts from bianca. you couldn’t help but read them, noticing her text demeanor is much different than how she is online. she’s practically begging you to talk to her, pleading with you to answer the phone.

you didn’t really think it all through and as soon as you read all of those messages, it hit you like a fucking bus. were you and paige going to keep this up? or was it a dumb drunk decision she made and was now regretting it?

there was only one way to find out. you didn’t want to confront her about it though, embarrassment seeping through you along with last night’s memories. you couldn’t even believe yourself, asking your best friend to be your fake girlfriend. let alone a girl you knew you had been avoiding for two months.

you groan into your pillow, letting your poor decisions rack over your head. you couldn’t deny the way your pace quickened at the thought of paige being your girlfriend, even if it wasn’t real. everyone thought it was. you push the thought away, immediately feeling quilty for thinking of your best friend that way.

you lift your head when you feel a gentle knock on your half-opened bedroom door. you see paige, standing in all her glory. she has a sweat set on, long blonde hair down and wavy, adorning her shoulders. if your heart wasn’t skipping beats before, it certainly was now.

“paige! hi!” your speech is breathless and short, shocked to see her in your apartment. you hope she didn’t catch you in your little moment, unaware of how long she’s been here. you remember that you’re half-naked under the covers, making note to keep them up and above your chest. it’s nothing she hasn’t seen before probably, but it’s different now.

“hey, i didn’t mean to wake you up or anything. jus wanted to check on you.”

“oh um, i’m good. yeah, good.” you struggle to find your words between the way she takes your breath away and how nervous you are. get it together. “how are you?”

“oh y’know, i’m good. hey i wanted to ask you something, i don’t know if you’ll really remember but.. last night bianca said something about how you and me-” she’s cut off by the sound of your phone ringing, bianca’s name flashing across your screen. paige shamelessly looks, mood immediately dropping.

much like bianca never liked paige, paige never liked bianca. your best friend always felt as if you were too good for her and deserved better. she still believes that. she believes she can be your better.

your eyes linger a little longer than paige would’ve hoped, taking note of your conflicted and angered expression.

“hey, since i woke you up you should let me buy you some coffee. i can get you breakfast too.”

you ended up accepting her offer, the two of you spending a few hours together getting coffee and walking around in town. as soon as you got back to your apartment, paige’s phone started going crazy with calls from her teammates, kk in particular.

she answered, leaning against your kitchen counter and propping her phone up. it didn’t go unnoticed how she filled your space so naturally. you were really glad the new situation you found yourselves in didn’t make anything awkward between the two of you.

not yet at least.

“PAIGE- it’s real right? the news?”

“what news?”

“girl boo don’t play right now- you and princess!”

while you and paige were out, you came up with a few rules for your ‘relationship.’ one of those was that it was a sworn secret between only the two of you, no one else. it meant you’d both have to lie to your friends, even those closest to you, but you couldn’t risk a slip up. the thought of everyone finding out you plotted an entire fake relationship just to make your ex jealous horrified you— you couldn’t let her win.

“oh yeah, real stuff.” she angled her phone towards you as you packed away some minimal groceries. kk caught glimpse of you and screamed, cheering about how her ‘two favorite people are together!’

“ok so boom- you guys should come over to the team dorm tonight. we’re throwing you a couples welcoming party!”

“a what?!”

“paige girl just come. and bring your new cute girlfriend with you. we love you princess!”

“i love you kk!”

after the call ended you and paige decided to lounge around, watching a couple of movies and catching up on the latest trends. it made you happy to just have her around, finding yourself falling back into your close bond with her.

she was happy too, esthetic really. after two months of you distancing yourself and pushing her away, she was finally back to normal with you. as close to normal as you can get with your best-friend-turned-fake-girlfriend. she missed being in your apartment, rummaging through all your dvd movies she’s seen a million times already. she missed your soft blankets and the signature scent of your home that she couldn’t find anywhere else. it was everything that made you, you.

eventually the two of you had to get ready. your process was a bit longer than hers, but she still got up when you did. you tossed her a slightly nicer, more presentable outfit she left at your place after a group sleepover once. you disappeared after that, starting your own routine.

“i’m bored,” she walks into your bathroom, leaning against the counter as she watches you. you sneak a glance at her, noticing her expression.

“you can leave before me, s’not a big deal.”

“i think it’d be weird if we didn’t show up together for our inauguration party.”

“oh, right. you’re right.”

she goes silent again, watching as you put the finishing touches on your makeup and adjust your clothes. she shamelessly admires you while you’re not paying attention, entranced by the way you look. even by the way your chest rises with each breath.

“are we going to talk about it?”

“i thought we went over everything this morning?”

“no not that. i’m talking about what bianca said last night. about you and me sneaking around.” you pause, staring your own reflection in the eye. you can’t make eye contact with her out of fear you’ll give yourself away so you just pretend to touch up a spot on your chin.

“it’s nothing really. she was just paranoid. she said that about all my friends,” it wasn’t a complete lie, bianca had suspicions of each of your friends. paige though, she garnered the majority of bianca’s accusations. you couldn’t tell her she’s the reason you and bianca broke up. paige feels her heart sink a bit and she knows it’s wrong. it’s wrong to want bianca be jealous and insecure of the relationship you have with paige, at least while you two were together. but you’re not together anymore. you’re with paige now. in a sense.

“oh, alright. makes sense i guess.”

as soon as paige pushes you through the door of her dorm, party confetti and party horns are in your face. it’s loud, everyone either blowing some whistle or simply cheering. you didn’t think your new public status with paige would excite them so much.

“happy one day anniversary yall!! that we know of..” kk flashes both of you dirty looks, her way of scolding you for not telling everyone sooner. they’re oblivious to the fact that it would’ve been impossible to let this know, considering it was completely new for you and paige as well.

balloons adorn the walls and ceiling, a small cake rests on the counter, neon lights everywhere, they really went all out. there’s even a banner with your and paige’s ship name on it.

“guys..”

“our fav couple deserves nothing but the best,” azzi smiles and pats your shoulder, pulling you with her as everyone floods the kitchen. she serves you your favorite at home drink, liquid swishing as you take a swig. you were gonna need it.

“i don’t know who asked who, but one of yall just won me fifty bucks,” nika grins, showing her venmo to everyone. kk rolls her eyes, clueing that she was probably the one on the other end of that bet.

“you guys made a bet on when we’d get together?” you ask, completely unaware of why this was even a thing.

“months ago.”

paige is frozen, face red as she stands statue still. every once in awhile she’d drop a hint at her admiration for you and she really hopes no one says anything, all completely unaware you don’t actually know paige has real feelings for you. she was stressed, positive she was going to break out in a sweat.

“ok enough of that. let’s eat some cake!” she tries to avert the conversation, giving kk a warning glare and nudging nika with her elbow. she couldn’t have anything going wrong tonight. or ever, really.

amari cuts the cake, serving everyone an equal slice. everyone found a spot in the living room, you cozying up next to paige on the couch. you were sitting between her legs, back to her chest as everyone gathered.

“so how’d it happen?”

“probably during sex or something-”

“no kk, bad.” ice scolds, watching kk give her best puppy dog eyes. you couldn’t believe how over the moon everyone was about it, never having heard any romantic innuendoes connecting you to paige.

“we were just hanging out, like usual. it kinda just happened.”

“how long ago?”

“uh, a few weeks ago.”

you’re glad paige decided to take the lead on answering the questions. they came up with them like rapid fire, some of them completely random. most of those came from kk and ice though.

“well, we’re glad it finally happened. we were beginning to think paige would never do it.”

that shocks you and stills paige, both of your breaths hitching, you didn’t want to jump to conclusions about what caroline was saying but it was hard not to, it was an outright insinuation of paige having romantic feelings for you. she knew it too, not sure on how she was going to get herself out of it. nika notices paige’s expression, narrowing her eyes in her direction.

“well, it’s a shame what bianca is saying about you online. you didn’t actually cheat on her right?”

“of course she didn’t. bianca’s just a bitch.” paige’s tone is filled with malice, mood swinging at the mention of your ex. you didn’t expect such a vulgar response from her, eyebrows furrowing in mixed emotions.

“paige-”

“bianca’s an insecure person that deserves to rot alone.”

you immediately nudge her, silencing her unfiltered thoughts. you didn’t know why she was acting like this, having very seldom seen this side of her.

everyone becomes distracted quickly, giving you the opportunity to address her hostility.

“okay, chill. what’s wrong with you?”

“nothing. jus defending you. is that a problem?”

“defending me from what, paige? the ghost of christmas past?”

at that she’s silent, fully aware that you’re right. bianca isn’t here and yet she’s still saying all these things. part of paige, the irrational part, gets upset at the way you still defend bianca. the more rational side empathizes with you, understanding that you’re probably still healing.

“yeah, alright. fine. my bad.”

you figure that’s the best apology you’ll get from her so you take it. phasing back to reality around you, you notice everyone has dispersed into groups, each one louder than the next. you and paige mingle, sticking together. eventually after an hour you find yourselves alone, paige creating an invisible protective barrier around you. her aura surrounds you and you swear you can almost feel it.

“enjoying the party?” the gives you flashbacks to last night when she asked nearly the same question, when things were simple.

“it’s good. never thought i’d go to a party celebrating something i made up though. i feel bad, lying to all of them.”

“they’ll be okay.”

it’s in this moment you realize eventually this will have to end. the reality of paige’s breath fanning your face, her pulse against your own, eyes locked with yours, makes you want to sink in on yourself. this can’t last forever, eventually it’ll end. you’ll ‘break up’ and possibly lose your close friendship with all the women in the room, all the women you’ve grown to love like family.

the thought itself makes you want to pull away, you can hardly stand to look paige in the eye. you already feel the barrier she’s built around you breaking, shattering to the ground in a million pieces. you want to run and never look back, never check to see if she’s following. but you don’t, you can’t. your heart sinks, stomach dropping and you feel sick.

you realize, truthfully and honestly, that you made the wrong decision.

-ˋˏ ༻❁༺ ˎˊ-·:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:·

UMMMM PLOT PROGRSS IDK??!!!!!

i love you guys

make good decisions!!! (cough cough celeste)

[fict1onallyobsessed]

Slide and Dice

Sevika x Reader

Sevika was no hairdresser.

Clearly.

Last time she tried to "trim" her hair she ended up hacking it off with the sword in her mechanical hand because she was so annoyed at it. Scissors were just too far away and the ends of her hair tickled the back of her neck just enough to make her snap on a bad day.

"Um...What happened?"

"It pissed me off."

It was funny at the time. Not only because of how silly it sounded but also at the absolute abomination she managed to do to her ends. It was not even, or straight, but it definitely screamed Sevika.

You weren't going to argue, but you knew the next time it came to her having a haircut, you were not going to let her do it. You even offered to fix her hair now, but Sevika being the stubborn asshole she was just shook her head.

"No. Looks fine." She shrugged, seemingly very impressed with herself.

"Whatever you say, baby."

She did absolutely everything to make it seem like her hair was fine. Like she wasn't bothered by it being so jagged at the ends because of the blade she used. Or the fact people stared at her a little too long now, and not out of fear. It wasn't REALLY that noticeable, and everyone was staring because she was Sevika, but even she could see the difference in length.

Eventually it somehow evened out by itself as it grew, some small bits still slightly shorter than the rest but she paid it less attention as time went on...

…Until it was time to cut it again.

Until she could feel the rough ends of her hair on her neck again.

She almost whipped her sword out again.

You watched as she stared at herself in the mirror, eye twitching as she analysed on what to do to it now. She really didn't want to have to slice it off the way she did last time, but then again why not. It was fast, efficient and saved her faffing around with it with scissors.

You walked into the bathroom with scissors in your hand, looking at her with your 'no bullshit' look and grabbed a chair, basically knocking the back of her knees with it.

"What are you-"

"I will not let you assault your hair like that again."

"My-? It looked fine."

"Sit."

She relented, watching you intently as you ran your hands through her hair. You could basically feel the split ends in between your fingers, planning how short you'd have to make it to salvage its previous silkiness.

She sat and watched, kind of looking like a sulking child as you played with her hair. Her eyes slid closed when your nails ran across her scalp, silently thankful you could take care of it instead.

"I'll have to cut it a bit shorter than usual if you want it to look better."

"It looks fine."

You laughed. You didn't mean to, but you did. She knew that the way she went about it last time was merely a action out in anger rather than a rational decision. Her ego was just to high to admit it.

You took the scissors and evened her hair out, measuring the amount and the place before you made your first snip. Then another, and another.

Sevika sat with her back straight, sniff as stone. You didn't even think she was breathing for the time being. She didn't care much for her hair really, but still wanted it to be better than it was.

"There."

She looked at it, analysing it again and again until she exhaled.

It was so even.

Finally.

It was shorter, but that's because you had to sacrifice all of the ends that were crumbling in your hands. Not enough for it to be noticeable though, but enough for her hair to feel better.

"Much better, Vika."

She hummed, standing up for the chair she was sat in as you put the scissors away. She didn't have to say thank you for you to know she was relieved. When she turned to face you and engulf you into her arms, her lips kissing the top of your head, you smiled.

"Much better indeed."

[feyascorner]

7 | The Fangs Between Us

summary. “It’s too hard to see. We need to turn back.”

“Don’t tell me you’re afraid of a little bit of darkness.”

You scrunch your nose at this, and he merely grins. Before you can say anything, he’s back to pacing across the dirt without a care in the world—almost too fast for your liking. “Will you at least slow down?”

“Shall I hold your hand?”

“I’d rather cut it off.”

“A pity.”

warnings. angst, comfort, slow burn, tav reader is a bard, italics are flashbacks

pairing. Astarion x GN!Reader

parts. TFBU masterlist

a/n. 6.9k words !!! this chapter took forever but somehow i managed!! thank you so much for your kind words and patience !!! he's kind of a silly guy in the chapter so pls enjoy this peace offering as the calm before a storm

“Are you sure this is the right course of action? Letting him ascend?” Shadowheart asks as you adjust one of the logs in the campfire, watching the other companions organize their tents from afar. You stop at this, turning to face her.

“It’s what he wants,” you mumble. “I won’t stop him if he’s sure this is the right thing to do.”

You’re still getting used to her hair, which’s now as white as a sheet, but you think it looks lovely against the fire. She seems calmer than she did when she was with Shar. At peace, almost. She casts you a sidelong glance. “Can we really trust his judgment of all people? He’s—I mean, well, him.”

“I know it sounds unreasonable," you say letting yourself sit down beside her on her bedroll. “But I want him to make his own decisions. He’s spent too many years having no choice of his own, and I’d be the worst person to take it away from him again.”

“I just,” her voice softens. “Astarion’s a complicated person, and I’m sure you know better than us. It’s because he couldn’t make his own choices for so long that it makes me think he’s lost his capability to make any choices anymore. Good ones, at least.”

“I trust him.”

“Gods knows how.”

You stifle a laugh, and she sips at her wine, eyes still glazing over the camp. There’s a kind of solemnness to them that makes your stomach churn. “You seem worried.”

“Not worried, per se,” she shrugs. “I just realize that I owe a debt to you for what you did for me against my lad—I mean, Shar. And I myself almost went down that dark path of becoming a Justiciar if it weren’t for you. At the time, I thought it was the best thing for me too, like Astarion believes ascension to be what will set him free.”

You nod patiently, urging her to continue.

“I only fear he might make the wrong choice if he doesn’t have the right guidance as I did.”

The words feel hesitant on her tongue. And although they make the voice in the back of your head, telling you to convince Astarion otherwise, louder, you ignore it, opting to smile at her softly instead. “Is this you caring about our companions?”

“Heavens, no,” she snorts, but there’s a joking tone behind her voice. “But like I said…I’m indebted to you all. Astarion also aided in my personal affairs with Shar, even if he didn’t have to, and even with his incessant complaining…I suppose this is my way of paying him back.”

Your chest warms. It’s soothing to know that even without you, your other companions have enough care for your lover to offer him bits of advice; in a way, it relieves a bit of weight off your shoulders. Even the companions who claim to detest his presence have grown fond of him over the months, and you’re sure it goes both ways. It helps because even if you’re gone, you know he’ll be okay.

“I never told you formally,” she sighs. “But thank you.”

“You don’t have to thank me or feel indebted. I just did what I could for you.”

“Don’t be so humble. What you’ve done for me—for all of us—is something we’ll cherish for the rest of our lives,” she takes her last swig from her wine. “But from one messed up person to another, please, be careful.”

Your wrist feels sore.

Two days. It’s been two days since the incident at the Blushing Mermaid, and still, your body seems to burn whenever you see his closed door across yours from the hall, and all you can do is rub shamefully at the healing puncture wounds on your wrist. The bandages looping around the skin do a good enough job of hiding them, but you genuinely wish you could just ask Shadowheart to heal them for you because being able to see them does little to help with the constant thoughts of the vampire muddling the clarity of your mind. 

But you’d rather not let your companions know what happened between you and the vampire on the dirtied floors of the Blushing Mermaid. You’d likely die of shame for letting him drink from you, even after your mutual agreement to specifically avoid just that. What’s worse is that you expect the worst from Lae’zel, especially after her explicit advice to do the exact opposite of what you chose to do.

You tighten the bandages again.

“Did those yourself, did you?”Alfira snorts, and you almost have half a mind to glare at her if it weren’t for the crumpled sheets of paper surrounding the legs of her chair. The ink on the discarded pages now blends into mush as they lie in the puddles forming around her—an aftermath of the recent rainy weather. You don’t tell her, though. She seems frustrated enough as it is, and you fear she might snap a string of her lute if this prolongs any longer. “How’d you get hurt anyway?”

“It’s a bug bite.”

“A rather massive bug, apparently.”

The corners of your lips quirk downward, and she finally sets her lute aside, careful to avoid the puddles as she props it against the side of her stool to focus on her notepad instead. Though most of its pages have now been torn out, the remaining few have scribbles of song lyrics that even you can’t decipher with how messily the ink splatters across the page. She, however, seems perfectly fine reading its contents aside from her glaringly obvious distaste for the words themselves. You raise your brow. “Can you really read that?”

“Oh, hush. Don’t insult my penmanship.”

You snicker, eyes continuing to scan the sheets of paper that had been abandoned on Dalyria’s desk at the Blushing Mermaid. It’d taken quite some time to take apart the pages plastered on the wall and to organize the mountain of doctor’s notes lying across the lair, but you’d managed to fish out something useful eventually. The journal was one that seemed especially important, filled to the brim with Dalyria’s so-called ‘research.’ 

But if the past few days have told you anything, it’s that Dalyria is a terrible note-taker.

The pages are filled with shapes. Some are curved, and others just bend and contort into odd figures that you’re sure aren’t supposed to look like letters. Each page studies a different shape on a random part of the page, leaving them scattered and difficult to decipher.

You’re starting to think this is just some odd attempt at art rather than the studies she claims to be performing.

“And? Why are you here if you’re not here to look at those lyrics I gave you?”

“I’m trying to figure out what this journal says,” you sigh, flipping another page you don’t understand. “And if you couldn’t tell, I’m rather busy trying to find the people responsible for murders around the city, so excuse me if I haven’t had the time to glance at your song.”

“I’m plenty busy myself, you know! I just got hired to sing at this fancy party for some celebration. They even said I could dress all nice for it,” she smiles proudly, and you offer her a crooked one of your own. “It’s my first serious gig—so I’m a bit nervous with how large it is…”

“How’d you land something like that before you’ve even played at children’s birthday parties?”

“Well, I’m not doing it alone, obviously,” she reasons, scratching something on her pages again. “I’m going with one of my friends. She’s a wonderful violinist, and she managed to squeeze me into the event, which I’m so grateful for…I suppose I’m just a bit worried.”

You look up from Dalyria’s notebook. “Worried? What for?”

“That my fingers will lock up, and I’ll humiliate myself,” she admits sheepishly, tucking a portion of her hair behind her sharp ear. “Lihala used to call me silly for worrying about things that haven’t happened–but I can’t help it. It’s the before-show jitters. Pesky things. It’s a bit embarrassing, really.”

Humming in acknowledgment, you look to the murky skies overhead, where dark clouds threaten to pour down for at least another few days. A shame, you think. You’ve never seen the Summers of Baldur’s Gate feel so dreary.

It’s fitting, almost, considering the state that the city is in.

The painful sound of quill scratching against paper is all you can hear now as Alfira sighs irritably again, ripping out another sheet of paper.

“It’s not embarrassing,” you finally say.

She blinks up from her notepad. “What is?”

“Being nervous. I’ve done more performances than I can count, and my hands would still get clammy in front of a big crowd,” you laugh to yourself. “But when you see how they watch you as if you’re performing sorcery with your lute, it’s like you were never anxious in the first place. The audience is what makes it bearable.”

“Gods, I hope you’re right,” she smiles fondly as you continue to reminisce in your own memories. “It’s a rather shame we never got to perform together. Not after the last time we played at the Grove–and I don’t even count that occasion with how unstable my voice was…”

“I can watch if you’d like,” you offer. “Your performance, I mean.”

Her eyes gleam with excitement, and she reaches to clasp both your hands, beaming brightly. “Will you? I’m sure if you’re there, it’ll ease my nerves, too!-”

As you shift in your seat to follow your hands, Dalyria’s notebook slips off your lap. The simple splash beneath you tells you all you need to know as your eyes shoot down to where the notebook now lies face down into a puddle, and you don’t even have to lift it to know that its pages are soaked.

But you don’t have to pick it up yourself because Alfira’s carefully holding it in an instant, her face pale as she fans her hand in a fruitless attempt to prevent the damage already done. “Dammit, I’ve done it again! I’m truly sorry…I didn’t mean for that to happen! But I’m sure if we just put it in the sunlight for a few days, it’ll–��

You gently take it from her hands, shaking your head. Perhaps it’s because you were just deep into memories you hold dear to your heart, but there isn’t an ounce of panic in your voice. “It’s fine. I wasn’t getting anywhere with this thing anyway.”

“Still…”

The pages stick together in chunks as you flip the journal towards the pages that are at least half dry. You fear they might tear off at the slightest touch, so all you can do is stare at a page you deem to be soaking up the ink from the pages behind it. Alfira groans into her hands, and before you can spare her a glance to remind her it’s alright, you spot something in the middle of the page.

“Holy shit,” you whisper so quietly she doesn’t catch it.

“I’ll grab us a wind scroll. Or maybe that’s too strong? Surely there’s some spell that can dry off books.”

“You have no idea what you’ve just done for me, Alfira,” you blurt, already halfway to stuffing the journal into your pack. She blinks up at you with weary eyes, but you quickly clamber off the stool with no time to offer an explanation. “Let me know when the performance is. I’ll be here next week as usual.”

“Don’t you want me to dry off the pages?”

“No,” you shake your head, your heart pounding. “I need to show this to the others.”

She stares at you as if you’ve grown a second head. Still, as you rush toward the stairs leading to the city streets, she calls after you.

“Don’t forget to look at the lyrics!”

“Runes? As in the ones carved into Astarion’s back?”

“I thought they were random blots of ink, but,” you raise the notebook in your hands, and the soaked pages now show the contents of the following sheets, blending to form a larger image. The placement of the shapes were not random at all, and you internally apologize for calling Dalyria a few less-than-kind words in your mind. “They’re not. They’re parts of the runes that Cazador tried to use for the ritual. There are six sets of runes in here, and each one’s slightly altered.”

“But what purpose does that serve?” Shadowheart cocks a brow, eyeing the page questionably with crossed arms. “Cazador’s dead. There’s no ascension to be done.”

“Unfortunately, just because that haunting man is gone doesn’t mean the threat of an ascension is either.” Intrigued but clearly disturbed, Gale takes the notebook and squints at what it holds. “Cazador himself never needed to be the one to execute the ascension.”

The room goes silent, leaving an uncomfortable tension in the air that keeps you from moving. You’re not sure how many seconds pass before you hear the figure who’s been awfully quiet the past half an hour mutter something under his breath from the comfy armchair beside the fireplace.

Astarion clicks his tongue, seemingly unfazed. “Ah, I see.”

The fists at your side clench tighter. The bandages feel impossibly tight all of a sudden.

“It’s for the ascension, clearly. There’s no other plausible explanation,” his eyes remain glued to the flickering flames, swirling a chalice of wine in his hand. He doesn’t sip from it, knowing that it tastes of nothing but vinegar on his undead tongue, so why he’s poured himself a glass, you don’t understand. You also can’t be bothered to ask. “Perhaps they plan to enact it. Take a piece of all that power for themselves.”

“But they can’t do the ascension,” Shadowheart frowns, turning to you. “You said there’s only six runes in there. They don’t have the last one to enact the ascension because Astarion’s with us. Cazador’s the only one who could have done it because he’s the only one who knows what each of the runes looks like. Without Astarion’s, they can’t—”

“They wanted him,” you whisper the confession, and you swear your voice nearly cracks. “They wanted Astarion. That’s why they wanted to speak with me.”

All three of your companions whip their heads to you, and you stare down at the ground. Shame burns through you, and you can practically feel the disappointment radiating off them as it dawns on you that you lied to them. You lied to your closest companions for the sake of saving yourself the embarrassment that no matter what you do, no matter what you tell yourself, your subconscious forces you to care for the bloody vampire sitting beside the fireplace. Despite the many eyes on you, you can only feel one crimson pair that bore into you like the sun beating down on a hot summer’s day.

Even now, he’s your biggest concern, and you hate yourself for it.

“Then it’s not Astarion they need,” Gale says breathlessly. “They need the marks on his back.”

“And you didn’t tell us this, why?” Shadowheart hisses. “You said they just tried to kill you!”

You blurt. “They did! They said they’d stop killing citizens if I just tossed Astarion over to them, but when I said no, they completely flipped and–”

“You declined that deal?” Lae’zel snarls, and you unwillingly flinch at the venom in her tone. “You swore, istik. You swore you wouldn't be foolish if it came down to you or him.”

The words feel like a knife to your throat.

“Well, obviously, it worked out,” you grumble, ignoring how Lae’zel’s eyes are narrowed dangerously. No doubt, she has questions of her own that she’ll demand answers to later. “If I handed him over, they would’ve had the last key to conducting the ascension.”

“You still lied to us,” Shadowheart steps toward you, but Gale quickly clears his throat.

“I know how deceived we all feel, but must we fight? What matters is the spawns can’t conduct the ascension as of now, correct?” he attempts to calm her down, but her scowl only grows deeper. “As disappointed as we all are, we must admit that keeping Astarion here is the right decision.”

“You’re too hasty, wizard,” Lae’zel snaps. “A vampire’s ascension would mean ridding of all the other spawn wreaking havoc in the city. We mustn’t throw away a chance being offered without considering it.”

Shadowheart is immediately on her feet, her eyebrows furrowing. “Don’t be an idiot–a few thousand spawn is better than a nearly impenetrable being capable of creating even more spawn. That’s asking for just as bad as we are now–maybe even worse.”

They break into a simultaneous debate, one in which two room occupants do not take part. Because even as you try to focus on what the others are saying, all you can feel is the unsettling stare of the spawn in the corner of the room, his hand still swirling the wine. You wonder if his wrist ever gets tired. You refuse to give him the satisfaction of returning his stare, but you watch him from the corner of your eye as his attention shifts to your wrist.

“Are we even sure this is what they’re planning? Do a few drawings prove that they want to go through with this ritual, again, after what it nearly did to them?” Shadowheart’s attention darts to you. “This ritual would kill them. Why in the hells would all of them agree to do it if it only means one would come out alive?”

You open your mouth to respond, but nothing comes out in return. The hurt embedded into her expression is so glaringly apparent that it makes your chest squeeze uncomfortably, and all you can do is look away in shame. “...I don’t know.”

Her face hardens. “Do you? Or are you just lying to us again?”

Cheeks flaring, you shake your head. “I’m not lying, I swear it.”

Her eyes flicker with something you don’t recognize before they flit to your bandaged arm and then back to your eyes. She doesn’t miss how you try to move your arm behind you. A miscalculation on your part since your attempt at hiding it makes your secret that much more obvious. “Then what are those for? You’ve had them on since you returned from the Blushing Mermaid, and you refuse to let me heal you myself. Just what did you get injured from?”

The room is so silent you can hear your own heartbeat.

“I–” you stop, wavering. “There was a—”

Shadowheart clenches her jaw. “Don’t lie. Please.”

But still, no words are willing to leave your throat. 

Your companions await words from you that do not exist. Like a deer in headlights, you stand numbly, unsure what to do. Fortunately, and also unfortunately, before long, Lae’zel has had enough of waiting, and she begins to march toward you in a way that makes you step away.

“Give me your arm,” she demands. “If you cannot say, then show us.”

You can feel all the blood draining from your face as she draws closer. But even Gale cannot hinder her this time because everyone in the room knows what she’s capable of with that blade attached to her hip, and she’s not against wasting a few potions of healing if she has to barrel her way through. You brace yourself for the inevitable, teeth gritting together.

Just as she reaches for your arm, someone else snatches it away.

“I drank from them,” Astarion says as you bump slightly into his chest, eyes wide at his pale fingers wrapped around your wrist. He yanks the edge of the bandage down with his free hand and lifts it for the others to see. The two puncture wounds, where the skin that surrounds it is darker than the rest, make you feel naked under the eyes of others. It’s too vulnerable. Too mortifying.

Your heart hammers pathetically, and whether it’s from the expressions of your companions or the hand wrapped around the sensitive skin of your wrist, you’re not sure. You hope it’s not the latter.

Gale’s jaw drops. “We agreed that this was the one thing you wouldn’t do.” 

“If I hadn’t, I would’ve perished,” the vampire retorts in response, releasing his hold on your arm as it falls back to your side. The place where his hand had been tinges under your skin. “And there weren’t exactly a few boars lying around the damn city for me to feed on.”

You notice he fails to mention there had been more than enough bodies to satiate him, but you keep your mouth shut.

The hurt on Shadowheart’s face is no longer one that throbs your sympathy. Instead, she seems to burn with something you haven’t seen in ages.

Anger.

Her palm flickers with radiant light, and Astarion immediately flinches, hissing as he moves to hide his body behind yours. In your haste, you can’t think of anything to do besides stepping toward her, holding out your hands. Astarion releases a strained laugh from behind you. “Now, Shadowheart, let’s not do anything hilarious, shall we?”

“I’ll kill you,” she growls maliciously, the glow of her palm growing brighter. “Like I should have done the second you came back to ruin everything we’ve done without you.”

You cautiously approach her, focus never leaving her eyes despite the danger festering in her hands. “You shouldn’t, Shadowheart.”

She throws daggers in your direction with just her expression, and you can’t deny how helpless you feel. “Killing him would end all of this. If we buried him somewhere, they’d never find the runes. They’d never be able to follow through with the ascension, and we won’t have to deal with his pompous ass anymore.”

You hate that she’s right. You hate that even though she’s right, you can’t agree with her methods.

“I know he’s—not exactly a friend—but he was once. And I know you considered him one as well,” you insist, inching closer. The hesitance in her motions as you come too close to the radiant light is undeniable. “I don’t want you to bear the guilt of his death.”

Because as much as you’re wrapped up in a world of your own–a world where you fight to hate the man behind you–you know that your companions feel the same way. The sentiments gathered from months of sharing the same camp, months of saving one another from multiple deaths, and months of aiding one another overcome their own pasts don’t just disappear. You know what they shared. Being the most similar amongst your companions, forced under the influence of a power they did not want to be subjected to, you know they considered themselves friends, even if they never voiced it out loud.

You know that deep down, Shadowheart’s hatred for Astarion stems from her own feeling of betrayal when he tried to kill you. When he attempted to harm the only other person who guided her to a path outside of Shar.

“Trust me, I won’t feel guilty,” she finally forces out. “You’re a fool to trust him again.”

“I don’t trust him,” you reassure her, your hands finally reaching hers as they dim and eventually vanish all traces of magic. “But if he’s to die for nearly killing me, I want it to be under my hands. Don’t sully your own for my sake when you’ve just escaped all the bloodshed.”

Shadowheart’s brows soften, but her face turns cold. Thoughts seem to run through her mind like an endless train before she decides that thinking through each one is worth more than Astarion himself is worth. She inhales deeply and nods, allowing you to finally release her hands. She shoots the others one last glance before turning to retreat upstairs.

You’re left in a pitiful silence—one that nobody in the room dares to break.

An entire day is spent with you wallowing in your shame, refusing to get out of bed.

You hope this is just a terrible nightmare, but you know better. If this were a nightmare, you’d already be dead.

You only climb out of your covers when you have to change the bandages on your wrist. It’s a painful process now since you don’t even want to look at the puncture wounds anymore, but it’s better than risking it to get infected. A knock on your door makes you stand from your bed, kicking the bandage rolls under your bed. “It’s open.”

You expect Gale or even Lae’zel, but you’re met with piercing red eyes. You contemplate begging him to leave you alone because looking at him right now only conjures up the guilt that’s been eating away at you for hours now. Instead, you build that wall between the two of you again, your face hardening. “What do you want?”

He’s never come to you willingly before. Not unless you were positively drenched in blood, and he had no choice but to follow his instincts for what he hopes to be a meal other than stale boar blood. Much less approached you in your own room.

Astarion lifts the empty glass bottle in his hand. “A charming welcome, as usual, I see.”

“You just had a full supply yesterday,” you say, brows furrowing. “I checked it myself.”

“Clearly, now I don’t,” he shrugs, and when you shoot him an intense glare, he frowns. “You can’t possibly blame me. I haven’t exerted myself as I did at that dirty tavern since the last time I had that damn parasite swimming around my head. So, unless you decide to offer yourself to me, again…”

You think he’s genuinely lost his mind. “Right now? Seriously? After what just happened yesterday, you want to ask me for blood?”

“Just a suggestion, darling. Otherwise, we always have the other option, as boring as it is.”

Perhaps you should just toss him to Lae’zel and call it a day.

Groaning in exasperation, you march past him, slapping a cloak into his chest. “There’s 15 minutes to sunset.”

He laughs, but it only makes your face turn sour.

The forest isn’t far off from the main square of Rivington. And by the time you reach it, the sun has long gone down, and you watch as Astarion takes off the hood of his cloak, breathing deeply in the moon's bask. And as he glances back at you, you don’t bother trying to walk side by side, remaining on guard and surveying his every move from three steps behind. He comments on it even though you think he doesn’t care for what you do. “I don’t bite, you know.”

“You’re not funny.” He snorts at your deadpan and continues into the deeper parts of the forest.

The entire time, your eyes remained glued to the backs of his heels, palms growing increasingly clammy as you become surrounded by nothing but the soft ambiance of the woods. His steps are as silent as they’ve always been, and it feels like following a ghost into the darkest parts of the forest. It’s becoming hard to see more than a few feet in front of you, and if your training with Lae’zel has taught you anything, you know that you don’t want to be at a disadvantage—especially when the other party is a bloody vampire.

You halt in your tracks. He does, too, turning to shoot you a questioning look. “What is it?”

“It’s too hard to see. We need to turn back.”

“Don’t tell me you’re afraid of a little bit of darkness.”

You scrunch your nose at this, and he merely grins. Before you can say anything, he’s back to pacing across the dirt without a care in the world—almost too fast for your liking. “Will you at least slow down?”

“Shall I hold your hand?”

“I’d rather cut it off.”

“A pity.”

You curse his long legs as the forest becomes darker and darker, even as each time you think it can’t possibly get worse than this. You swear his steps become quicker, and a part of you wonders if this is where he attempts to run away and whether you should cast a sleep spell before he succeeds. But the most rational part of you reminds yourself that he’s had plenty of chances to escape. Hells, he could do it even now, considering how much more easily his eyes adjust to the darkness than you.

“Astarion, I swear to the Gods above, if you don’t stop walking so quickly…”

This time, you don’t get an answer.

Suspicions rising, you break into a jog and then into a gradual sprint. Every time you think you finally caught up to him, a branch whips into your face, and you barely manage to swat it away before it manages to cut your skin. You call his name a few times to no avail, and you genuinely begin to ponder if you should’ve brought your scroll for daylight.

Finally, you stumble through a tall berry bush into what you assume to be another branch.

And rather than more darkness, you’re met with a clearing. It’s only a few long strides in width and a couple more in length, but here, it doesn’t seem like nighttime at all. The moon peers down at you in all its glory, and you think this might’ve been Selune’s pocket of the forest if she were here. You blink wide when a speck of light—a firefly—flies barely past your face. And suddenly, you’re surrounded by light rising from the green grass beneath you in fragile wings. 

The tightness in your chest dissipates, if only for a moment.

Only once you’ve taken in the vast difference of your surroundings just a few moments prior do you see Astarion pulling off the clasp of his cloak. He tosses it to you, and it lands on your face before you yank it away with a scowl. “You could have just handed it to me–”

“Stay here,” he says. “I’ll return when I’ve finished hunting.”

You gawk at him. “I’m not going to let you just leave.”

“I’ve proven myself plenty,” he scoffs. “If I remember correctly, you would’ve likely perished were I not there at that tavern a few days ago. And I must remind you that I do have quite the memory. If I planned on betraying you, I would’ve done it then—at a more fashionable time.”

You don’t have much of a rebuttal to that.

While you could bring up the dozens of other times he’s made questionable decisions pertaining to his loyalty, the soothing bath under the moon’s gaze seems to calm you down. So, instead of fighting the internal urge to continue your petty quips, you drop the cloak beneath you. He cocks a brow, surely expecting more of a protest, but you just swallow your pride, plopping down on the grass with a huff. “If you don’t return in 30 minutes, I’m coming to find you.”

“40 minutes,” he tries. “30 minutes isn’t nearly enough time for anything fun.”

You scowl. “20 minutes.”

Astarion smiles wickedly just enough for his fangs to peek beneath his top lip. “Very well. I’ll expect you no later than that.”

And like a predator fading into his natural environment, he vanishes into the darkness.

Time passes slowly when all you can do is pick at pieces of grass. As beautiful as the clearing is, it’s a bit too soothing—enough to make you doze off as you lean against the trunk of a tree. Though you attempt to keep your eyes open, reminding yourself you have a responsibility to uphold, you haven’t had this sense of relaxation in ages. Especially now, in your home with an atmosphere thicker than the butter you use on your bread. It’s almost like a spell as you feel your heavy eyelids droop helplessly.

You pray you don’t dream tonight. Not when you know all you’ll think of is the betrayal you inflicted on your companions.

A rustle of leaves snaps you back awake.

And when you look up, you see two blood-red eyes staring down at you from the branches of the tree opposite of yours.

They look exactly like the spawn in the alleyway, practically a month ago now. The same ones that haunt your nightmares and the same ones that morph into your ex-lover in the ones you despise the most. And while you can’t see their face, you don’t need much more than that to break into action.

Immediately, you’re snatching the cloak and sprinting back into the forest's darkness. You don’t care about the branches flinging themselves at you anymore because you can barely breathe even without worrying about them. Twigs and thin branches flail across your cheeks as you practically barrel through the woods, your legs feeling like they could give up if you were ever to stop running. With only the cloak in one hand and a dagger in the other, you don’t even attempt to fight whoever this person is upfront–you learned your lesson well the last time you tried. So, instead, your boots crunch against whatever plants are being crushed beneath you as you frantically run from the creature chasing you.

The worst part is you can still hear leaves rustling behind you.

Your lungs hurt. Your head hurts. Everything hurts, and yet you cannot stop. You hope the forest itself swallows you whole at this point, especially as you hear the movements getting closer and closer.

Tripping over a particularly large root, you fall through a bush, bracing for impact as you curse everyone you can think of for your luck. But rather than your shoulder crashing into a pile of dirt and twigs, you plant face-first into what feels like…cloth?

“Eager little thing, aren’t you? If you wanted to touch me, you could have just asked,” Astarion teases and you instantly tear yourself away, pushing your palms against his chest with wide eyes. And as much as you hate to admit it, a flood of relief hits you. And as much as it shouldn’t, meeting his gaze makes you able to breathe again.

Gods, what is wrong with you?

“There’s something chasing me,” you say hurriedly, pointing in the direction behind you. “I think it’s another spawn, I saw his eyes–”

His face stills when you practically jump at the bushes moving in ways the wind cannot will it to. Your arm flies to push him in front of you in case something were to leap out, and while you’re sure he’d complain dramatically about this gesture on any other occasion, he’s too busy worrying about what lies behind the bush. His hand shoots to what you assume to be that blasted comb he takes everywhere while you grip your knife, and you hear both your breaths hitch when something lunges out of the shrub.

It’s a small, puny squirrel.

Astarion doesn’t even try to stifle the laugh that escapes him as he throws his head back.

“I swear there was something following me!” you hiss, slapping his arm while the squirrel scurries away back to wherever it came from. He doesn’t stop, having little care about how your face flushes with embarrassment, and instead seems to revel in it. The bastard is enjoying this.

You wish you could throw the damn squirrel at his head.

“Oh, yes, I do believe there was,” he’s barely fazed while you continue glaring daggers at him. “I’m impressed you survived an encounter with such a terrifying foe, my dear.”

“It was definitely following me...” your voice trails off, and the bloodlust that had overwhelmed your lungs is fading away, leaving nothing but the sound of Astarion and his annoyingly loud laughter. 

He stops when there’s a shrill scream from across the forest. One that wails in what is unmistakenly of excruciating pain.

The two of you slowly turn to one another, and a knowing gleam flashes behind his eyes.

“Darling, the smart decision here would be to leave–”

But you’re already rushing toward whoever this victim is, forcing him to groan loudly and trail after you, snatching up your cloak from the ground in the process. You feel him close behind as you practically fly through the forest, with little care of how exhausted you were just moments before as the screams of pain seem to fuel your determination to lend aid. 

Astarion, although displeased, only grumbles as he continues to follow your lead. “Is it necessary to be heroic now of all times? In a dark forest where there’s sure to be animals twice our size?”

You ignore him.

A leaf slaps into your face as you finally reach what’s now been reduced to soft sobs. And you’re not sure what you were expecting, but it certainly wasn’t someone you knew.

“Berry?” you blink at the small girl, who you’re sure can barely even see you with how teary her eyes are. She watches you wearily before she gasps in recognition, and it’s then that you realize that her arm is bleeding.

“Tav!”

“You’re hurt,” you’re kneeling beside her in an instant, assessing her wounds as you reach to dig around your pockets in hopes of any medical supplies you might’ve left in there. “Did something attack you?”

“Yes,” she winces as you lift her arm to inspect it closer. “I’m not sure what it was, but it came out of nowhere, and they—-they tried to bite me.”

A lump forms in your throat. As twisted as it is, you're relieved you weren't actually imagining what you saw earlier. “Did you see if they had fangs? Did they look like a regular person?”

“I think so,” she replies in a hushed voice, wiping her tears. “I was so scared. I didn’t know what to do when it–”

A hand grabs her by the back of her cloak, yanking her in the air with her legs dangling helplessly as Astarion holds her just high enough to render attempts to kick at him useless. “I’d normally entertain tasteless tricks like this, but I’m in a less than forgiving mood, I’m afraid. You’ve cut into the time I have to fill my own stomach.”

You gasp, jumping to your feet. “Astarion, what the actual hells are you doing?”

“Trust me, you’ll thank me later, darling,” he sneers at the girl, hissing at him aimlessly. “Show them, you little imp.”

Having no idea what’s going on, you decide the best thing to do is de-escalate whatever misunderstanding he’s had about the poor girl tied to his hand. “You’ll hurt her. Just let her go and explain what’s going on.”

“Show them,” he pronounces each word harshly, glaring at Berry. 

And finally, she tries to bite at his hand. This prompts her to unhinge her jaw just enough for you to see the glint of sharp teeth. Ones that do not certainly belong to an innocent orphan.

Were you always this unlucky, or was the past month just a living hell for you?

“See what I mean? You can offer your thanks to me later, darling,” Astarion smiles proudly, and if you knew him any less than you did, you’d think he’s psychotic for smiling like that in this situation. But then, again, maybe he is. “How you seem to attract so many of us is beyond me, but I believe we should refrain from keeping this one alive.”

Your jaw drops. As much as you feel appalled that the innocent girl you’ve been soothing over the death of her adoptive father for the past few weeks turned out to be one of the very creatures that nearly took your life (on multiple occasions), you can’t fathom the idea of just ridding of her. She’s still a kid—at least, to the naked eye. “Are you insane? No, we’re not killing her!”

“Gods, please don’t tell me you’ll try and make this brat see sense. She’s practically feral! Look at her!” he grits through his teeth, waving his free hand to the girl in question, who’s too busy trying to snap her teeth at him. “This thing doesn’t deserve your sympathy right now.”

Berry manages to catch the tip of his finger in her teeth, and Astarion lets out a string of curses as he drops her to the dirt. It doesn’t even take another second for her to lunge toward you, fangs bared and claws ready to sink into your flesh. You barely manage to swerve out of the way, her sharp nail grazing past your cheek.

“Berry, just listen to me! I don’t want to hurt you!” you practically yell, but she only stumbles on the ground a moment before rushing at you again. You reach for your dagger, fearing you may have to use it on a child until she’s snatched into the air again.

This time, Astarion hangs her by the cloak onto a tree branch, where she screams and grasps at the air, practically throwing a tantrum.

You gawk in utter disbelief; too many things are happening simultaneously.

And Astarion doesn’t help as he slips out the damn comb again, grinning from ear to ear. You notice that this time, he seems to have taken the time to sharpen the tips of the teeth, which nearly look akin to a row of needles. 

He holds the comb in Berry’s direction. “Well? Shall I do the honors?”

As you watch him threaten a child who also happens to be a vampire, you ponder that maybe you should have just handed him over to Dalyria when you had the chance.

Tags:@ayselluna@littleenglishfangirl@bg3obsessedsideblog@iwillpissyourpants@cyberpr1m3@ukeia-uchiha@snowlotr@road-riot@spacekidnova@madislayyy@lordfishflakes@nicalysm@djarinsway@tinystarfishgalaxy@brainz00@hopeful-n-sad@ohdeerieme@madisban@chrismarium@chonkercatto@fanfic-share@bitterrenegade@sleepyred1703@miskouly@ravenswritingroom@iamlowkeycrying@deezus-roy@spiritraves@mariposakitten @dinobae-replyacc@whisperingwillowxox@bdudette@misscrissfemmefatale @atropapurpurea @cosywinterevenings @phoenixgurl030 @generalstephkenobi @shadowsmusical @himesuedi @girlygmer-blog @vulgarfuckinvirgo77 @deezus-roy @hyperfixationwhore @teardropcup @marina-and-the-memes @kiwi-mansanas @woosaaghh @cminr @everybodystaycalm @divineknightmare @bangtanbecks @carolinelec @bitterbeanren @aelieknox Please let me know if I didn't add you to the list or if you'd like to be added! I needed to redo the entire taglist because it wasn't functioning, so please let me know if I missed you :)

[3motionally3xhausted]

BNHA girl's redesigns

(pt.2)

Thoughts & Comments under the break. I always make a lot of small, conscious decisions when redesigning characters so I hope it's interesting

PS I do intend to do the other half, I just didn't like my original sketches so I'm restarting :)

Tsuyu Asui (Froppy)

I wanted to give her kind of a baggy jumpsuit that would accentuate her lanky posture. I struggled slightly in giving her frog motifs, but I eventually put together the liminal spots, the shape on the rim of her gloves, cap & goggles, and the translucent sleeves. All of them together make her costume look rather frog-like I think, and of course the frog toes on the boots. Also, the twin braids just felt right for her character, as well as her freckles.

Momo Yaoyorozu (Ms. Architect)

Obviously, Momo's hero costume is the most problematic of the canon designs, so this is my take and I'm actually really proud of it. I also renamed her because I think most of the girls' hero names are a bit... simple, cheap, and uninspired. (Especially compared to most of the guys') I chose Ms. architect by using thesaurus for the word "creator" since an architect is someone who plans and makes things, it's also much more respectable.

Honestly it's kind of a simple design but I think it suits her in a way. It has a red top that's cut low in the front and back, especially since we rarely see her use her quirk from her stomach. Then she has shorts that reach just above her mid thigh, with an apron over it to carry, pens, her notebook, and a measuring tape to help with her quirk since she has to understand the structure.

Ochako Uraraka (Uravity)

It's hard to tell with the pose I put her in, but I mean for her to be tall and thin/lanky, like someone who runs track, mainly to give the sense that she's light (which is more obvious in the design sketch.) I made her slightly tan with a bit more ginger brown hair in a longer bob simply for some variation and I like it. For her costume, I wanted it to vaguely resemble an astronaut for the space/gravity theme. I also absolutely had to get rid of that line that goes down her crotch bc it makes me uncomfortable.

My original sketches to work out the designs---I did do some reworking on the final, but for the most part they're the same. Also you can see the varied body types better here than in the posed drawings

[runningfrom2am]

leveling the playing field XIII

summary: with nowhere else to go after getting caught cheating to help lucy gray, you both make some desperately stupid decisions.

pairing: coriolanus snow x fem!reader

wc: 4.2k

tags/warnings: capitol brat!reader, maybe slightly ooc coryo, idk i tried my best. do they love each other or hate each other? who knows (we do, kind of). implications and mentions of abuse, so read with caution!! also a little bit of swearing but that's neither here nor there. oh, and manipulation (both of them lowkey)

masterlists // nav // requests

a/n: nothing much to say other than thank you guys and i hope you like it :)

series masterlist

You think you might die from this heat. The ice bag that Coryo brought you only lasted so long, especially when you shared it with the covey, which cut its window of efficacy in half. Both of you trailed behind everyone on the way to the lake, besides for Maude Ivory who found a very comfortable spot on Coryo's back. You should have thought to buy her some new shoes before the several-hour hike, but you didn't think that would be of consequence.

"How is Sejanus?" You ask, making conversation as you wipe the sweat from your brow. You'd like to gauge if Coryo knew anything more about your mutual friend's habit of hanging around with the wrong people.

"He's... yeah. He's fine." Coryo sighs, adjusting his hold on Maude Ivory's legs around his waist as he steps over a tree root.

"You don't sound so sure." You laugh, tilting your head up at him.

The bruise on your cheek wasn't red anymore, now healing into a yellowish hue that Coryo could hardly tear his eyes away from. He wishes you were still in the habit of wearing makeup every day, then he wouldn't have to stare down the result of his failure every time he looked at you. He shakes his head. "Well, I'll tell you about it later."

You just nod, looking down at the ground in front of you to make sure you don't trip. Now it was your turn to wish that the two of you could talk about what's going on between you. Whatever Sejanus is up to with Billy Taupe reminded you that even though you're far away from the chains of the Capitol, you still weren't entirely free. Even if now it was just free of the prying ears of a little blonde girl who loved to talk. "If you could change one thing about your routine right now, what would it be?" You ask, looking up at him again and squinting at the sun as it breaks through the trees above you.

Coryo draws his head back for a moment, confusion washing over his features at the seemingly random question. "Uh, everything. Next question."

"Ah-ah," You shake your head, hair falling into your face which you quickly pull back again. "Only one thing."

"Okay, fine." He chuckles, shaking his head. "Um... not sure, honestly. Maybe I'd have more success trapping those damn Mockingjays." He grumbles, looking up into the treeline.

You laugh, rubbing over the mostly healed scratches on your arms. "Nothing yet, huh?" Up until the point that you forgave him, you had gone out every night for almost a week, having learned a better system for opening the traps that didn't result in them cutting up your arms with their claws. Not so much as a thank you from the birds that apparently could speak, until you had started to thank yourself every time you reached around the side of the traps to open the metal, just so they would echo it back to you. You knew it was crazy, but it had become a fun semblance of a normal routine.

"Not one. Hardly any Jabberjays either, we think someone was setting them free in the night, they were easier to trap at first." He replies, smiling at you despite his frustrations about it. He couldn't wait until they could catch enough for Dr. Kay so he could start shooting them instead. "Rebels, most likely."

"That's annoying." You laugh, trying to hide the nervousness in your tone. "Why would they care about some birds?" It was a stupid question to pose, to poke holes in his only theory when it didn't already point back to you.

"They're hardly more than animals themselves." He grumbles, shrugging. "No, actually, I'd probably spend more time with you, if I could." He changes his answer and effectively, the topic as well. At this, Maude Ivory lifts her head from his shoulder.

"Are you guys in love?" She asks, turning her head so she can look at you now.

"Oh, no." Your cheeks burn as you laugh, shaking your head. "It's complicated big kid business, Maude Ivory."

"That's enough." Coryo chuckles nervously, spinning her on his hip and carefully putting her down. "Go bother the others."

The girl giggles, walking backward in front of you with her shoes in her hand. "It's why, I love you, you're as pure as the driven-" She starts to sing a song you were writing with Lucy Gray, knowingly taunting you, but you're quick to cut her off.

"Hey! Don't!" You laugh quickly, pretending to push her forward so she'll run along. "They've got some thin walls in that house..." You chuckle quietly, avoiding his gaze as you watch her run up ahead.

After a few moments of silence, Coryo speaks again. "What about you? What would you change?"

"Can I be uncreative and say the same thing as you?" You ask, cheeks still red.

"Sure." He nods slightly, a small smile on his face.

"Great, because those birds are starting to get on my nerves." You joke, bumping your shoulder against his arm.

He smiles, rolling his eyes. "Yeah, yeah. Whatever. I hate you too."

"Oh, hush. You know I love you." You freeze up as soon as you say it, suddenly it holds a lot more weight to it than your typical friendly banter.

At that, Coryo drapes his arm over your shoulder with a satisfied smile, pressing a kiss to the side of your head.

"Can you tell me about Sejanus, now?" You ask, head placed on Coryo's lap as you lay on the dock. You had been out of the water for a little while, now, utilizing the sun to dry your wet hair and skin.

He looks back up to the cabin, seeing Lucy Gray and the rest of the covey scattered and picking plants or lying in the grass. "Uh, he just keeps sneaking off, and I found a good bit of money in his locker, but he told me he was broke so... I don't know what he's up to."

You sigh. "I've seen him hanging around Billy Taupe a lot. They're a sketchy crowd in the nicest of terms."

"Well, he is district. It doesn't surprise me that he'd associate with them." Coryo explains, distracted in a weak attempt at braiding a small section of your hair.

"He's gonna get himself killed." You mutter, eyes closed to block out the sun. You couldn't tell Coriolanus about how you ran into Sejanus a couple of weeks ago, knowing he would ask questions about why you were out at that time too. It's easier to lie to Sejanus than to him.

"It's not our problem if we stay out of it." Coryo tries to ease your mind.

"We can't just stand by and watch, though. It'll eat my conscience alive if something were to happen to him."

Coriolanus looks down at you, watching your calm expression form into something resembling worry. He chews on the inside of his cheek and nods to himself. He would have to do something, if Sejanus ended up getting in some kind of trouble, the guilt of knowing without acting will kill you. "Okay. I'll figure something out. I'll get him to keep his distance." He promises.

Days had passed since that interaction, and Coriolanus is crippled by the fear that he made a horrible mistake. He got the full story from Sejanus, and it was worse than he pictured.

You liked Sejanus, at least you acted like it when he was around. Coriolanus could always see that the district-born boy meant something to you, even if it was unclear based on the way you spoke about him when he wasn't present. Him running off into the woods with a bunch of derelect rebels was far from a viable option, Coriolanus wouldn't have it. He couldn't risk your reaction knowing that he told you he would do something to intervene.

He needed to talk to you. You were the only one he could trust to tell about the Capitol-bound recording he sent off of Sejanus' confession, or the news that his family had been kicked out of their apartment back home. He wasn't even sure he wanted to tell you. Coryo had been fighting this internal battle for what felt like ages, so maybe he could just include the basics, leave out his actions, and let you lift some of the tensions from his shoulders by telling him it would be okay. That it would all be over soon, and that you're proud of him for passing his exam. He could get the two of you out of this dump by the end of next week, and he couldn't get you away fast enough.

Unfortunately for him, when he finally arrived at the Hob on his night off you were already on stage with the Covey. You were laughing, dancing and spinning, occasionally joining Maude Ivory on her hip drum while Lucy Gray sang. The crowd loved you, and you loved the attention. He'd be lying to himself if he tried to say he didn't love watching you so happy, but the timing was inconvenient at best.

Coryo found his usual spot against the wall, sitting down next to Sejanus. He wasn't about to let him out of his sight, not anymore.

"Give it up for our friends in the band!" He smiles at Maude Ivory's excessive spirit as she holds her arms out to encourage applause before her eyes lock on him. Her face lights up more, somehow, and he greets it with a nod.

She turns to you while music is slowly tuning out, and gives a slight tug on the bottom of your new dress. It had been scuffed up in your fight with Ash, but you had cleaned it up nicely- hardly a stitch was out of place.

You look down at the girl, who just gives a slight nod in the direction of the wall Coryo was sat against. "He's here, you gotta sing it now!" Maude Ivory says, loud enough so you could hear but not enough to be picked up by the mic behind her.

You look very briefly over at Coryo, shaking your head at her as your cheeks turn rosy. "He's never gonna hear it." You say, leaning down to her level. "Who even says its about him, huh?"

"You can't trick me, Sage." She giggles, pointing at your nose.

"C'mon, lets do it!" Lucy Gray chimes in encouragingly as you stand back up. "I'll play for you. All you gotta do is sing."

You roll your eyes playfully, shaking your head again. "No, I-"

"Now, welcome back for her second performance with us, Sage! She's gonna take us over for a minute here. I promise, y'all are in for a real treat." You're interrupted by Maude Ivory making the announcement for you. Internally you cuss, plastering on a nervous smile.

"It's beautiful, you gotta relax." Lucy Gray says in your ear, already adjusting her hold on her guitar. "If I can sing a breakup song to the whole country, you can sing a love song just to the folks in this room. C'mon." She smiles, nodding for you to take the mic as Maude Ivory bows you in.

You'd played this song a bunch back at the Covey's home after Lucy Gray caught you humming the abstract tune of a lullaby your mother used to sing to get you to sleep when you were little. You didn't remember a single word, but the melody was enough for her to recreate and embellish it into one of their songs, to which she insisted you help her write the words for.

Coryo is leaning forward, elbows rested on his knees as he watches you. From what he knew, you weren't much of a singer. The redness evenly spreading across your cheeks and nose in time with the intro music was evidence enough of that.

"Sing for us, sweetheart!" Someone from the crowd calls out, which is matched with whistles that force Coryo to sit up to try and get a look at who the hell is yelling at you. His jaw is seized until he hears your voice echoing through the large room, drawing his gaze back to you on the stage.

"I've taken some hits, so no wonder I'm wary. It's why I need you, you're as pure as the driven snow..."  You look over his way only briefly while you sing the first round of the chorus, trying not to let your voice catch from the nervousness still pumping through every inch of your body.

He knows it before you're finished, but the last word, the one you didn't let Maude Ivory get to on the way to the lake, makes his heart flip in his chest. The eye contact he made with you as you said his name was so heavy with everything you've ever wanted to say to one another but never had, and he completely swells with pride knowing that it was about him.

"Cold and clean, swirling over my skin..." The inclination, again, to shout to everyone that you were his girl was immense and overtaking. Just like the first time, but now he knew it for sure. He was positive."You cloak me, You soak right in, down to my heart."

By the time you render the final verse, his whole world has changed."It's why I trust you, you're as pure as the driven snow..."

I'm gonna marry her.

He's up as soon as the song is over, heading for the back of the stage as you take your bow. Your smile is wiped when you look up and he's no longer there, and neither is Sejanus. Worry pools in your insides as you scan the crowd, giving a rushed smile to Lucy Gray and Maude Ivory as you jump down. You hurry to the back of the stage, brow furrowed as you search for Coryo.

By some miracle, he's there. If you're not mistaken, he's got tears in his eyes as he strides up to you quickly, the stage lights leaking past the stage to illuminate him just enough. His pace and his intense expression only worry you more. "Is everything-" You ask frantically, only for your question to be disrupted by his actions.

Coryo takes a deep breath, and then, as soon as you're within reach, he cups your face in his hands and leans in. The world around you seems to fade as his lips meet yours in a passionate, long-awaited kiss.

Time stands still, and in that moment, everything falls into place. The worries that plagued him when he walked in completely dissolved as he felt your hair in between his fingers. When he finally pulls away, a small smile graces his face.

You're both breathing heavily as you stare at each other, and it's then that you realize he wasn't crying due to any kind of upset. He was crying because of you. With a smile so real that you could feel the sun on your back, even late at night in this dim building hundreds of miles from the comfort of your collective home.

"Coryo..." You say, smile fading as you regain perceptions of your real life.

"I know, and I have so much to tell you..." He grins, leaning down to kiss you again.

It was your turn to interrupt, pressing a hand to his chest to stop him in his tracks. Tracks you so desired to follow, wherever they may take you, but right now you had bigger concerns. "No, no it's... where is Sejanus?"

He pauses, and it's like the spell is broken as he straightens his posture, looking around as if Sejanus should be right there. "Uh... shit." He had completely forgotten about his friend as he fell under the trance of your voice, of the song you were singing to him.

You're quickly out from under his arms, walking back around the side of the stage to go look for your friend.

"Coryo-" You stop, and he's right on your heels as you turn back to him, pointing toward the back wall. "Go check the bar. Keep an eye out for Billy Taupe. Obviously. He's probably with him." You instruct and he nods to you quickly before beginning to push his way through all the drunk people in the crowd.

You try and scan the sea of faces, but you don't see Sejanus anywhere. The music the Covey is playing is loud, drowning out any hopes you had of being able to shout for the boy. You could follow Coryo in the search, but that would no doubt just waste time. You groan, pushing your hair back out of your face in frustration. You shouldn't have stopped Coryo from kissing you again, if Sejanus wants to be reckless you should just let him. The two of you already saved his life once, was that not enough for him?

You glance down the deserted hallway to your right, and then your feet are carrying you toward the back room in an instant. You turn the corner and push the sliding door open when you hear shouting coming from the other side. "What the fuck is going on?" You ask, eyes flitting between Sejanus, and the two other boys in the room, alongside a girl who who you vaguely recognize.

"Y/N?" Sejanus asks, turning back to you quickly.

"Y/N..." The girl mutters to herself, rolling the name around in her mind and on her tongue. You can see it in the way she's looking at you. You ignore it, eyes locked on your friend now.

"I told you to not get involved in things you shouldn't, didn't I? Didn't Coryo?" You scold him, gesturing to the door.

"It's not- I didn't know they were going to buy weapons! It's not what I wanted, they told me the money was only for supplies, that no one would get hurt!"

"These are supplies." Billy Taupe's friend, Spruce, replies.

"Why would you trust them!" You spit, pointing vaguely at the other people in the room.

"Listen, Princess-" Billy Taupe starts, a bitter taste to his tone just as the door slides open again. Coryo's frame is blocking your view of the boy in a second, tucking you carefully behind his back.

"Talk to me. Not her." He hisses, and you grab his arm. The feeling of his skin under your palms is comforting, warm, and tense in your grip. "What are you doing, guns, Sejanus?" He turns his attention to your classmate.

"Coriolanus, I didn't know this is what they would do, they lied to me-" Sejanus starts his pleads for help again on a separate set of ears.

Unsurprisingly, his response is almost identical to yours. "You thought they would be honest? What are you doing? There are peacekeepers right outside!"

"That's what I said." You mumble in exasperated agreement "Why did you even give them money at all?" You ask, hoping to get some answers.

"Sejanus wants to run off with these dimwits into the woods up north," Coryo explains to you.

"What?" You ask, shocked, looking past him at the boy you've known for years. The thought of never seeing him again pulls at your heartstrings in a way you're unfamiliar with. "You can't. Absolutely not."

"You're not my Ma, Y/N!" Sejanus spits.

"Wait, I know you." The girl cuts in, pointing at you. "You're that missing girl. From the Capitol. Y/N Y/L/N. My dad got a call about you!"

You freeze up at the accusation, biting your tongue as you look up at Coryo. A memory flashes in your mind, that's why you recognize her. She's the girl who Lucy Gray dropped a snake on in the reaping- the mayor's daughter. "Huh?" You ask, trying to look as confused as possible.

"Don't play dumb, we're past that." She scoffs and you just shake your head.

"Genuinely, don't know what you're talking about." You relax your posture, crossing your arms over your chest.

"Well," She sighs, shrugging sarcastically. "I'll go tell my dad where you are. Your family sure is missin' you..." She starts to take a few steps before the back exit and you clench your jaw at her smug smile. You want to rip the hair out of her head and throw her body in the lake to rot.

"Mayfair, you can't leave." Billy Taupe scolds her, grabbing her arm which she quickly yanks away.

"This is ridiculous and confusing, and you act like I don't see the way you still look at Lucy Gray! Why don't you take her with you instead, huh?"

"She is coming, isn't she?" Spruce asks, seeming just as confused as you in a completely opposite way.

"You were bringing Lucy Gray?!" Mayfair shouts, shaking her head at her (now presumably) ex-boyfriend.

"She said she wanted to come!" Billy Taupe defends and you laugh, shaking your head.

"Okay, so clearly there's some major communication issues in this gang of misfits you've found, Sejanus, so let's just go and leave them to it. It won't benefit you to be stuck in the wilderness with a bunch of starving idiots who will kill each other in a week if they get too lazy to hunt." You plead with him and he shakes his head at you.

"Y/N, wait-" Coryo says, looking back at you only briefly.

"Yeah, Capitol Princess is right. I'm out." Mayfair says, raising her hands in defeat and turning to leave. "You'll all hang for this!"

"This power trip you have about your father being the mayor pales in comparison to what my family has. You'll all be dead by the morning if you say a word." You tell her, voice calm as she freezes, turning to look back at you.

"She's all talk, she won't tell anyone." Billy Taupe tries to defend her from the tensions rising in the room. You were concerned about getting sent home, of course, but if she told about their plans to run, everyone in the room would be executed come the morning light.

"Oh, you think I'm scared of you, Sage? You think I won't tell? Ask Lucy Gray." She's right, Lucy Gray had told you about how this girl was responsible for the reaping being rigged to result in Lucy Gray's death in the games. What they never accounted for was her strength, her intelligence, and her having Coriolanus Snow and Y/N Y/L/N as mentors.

And how Lucy Gray became a victor, known initially to most of the Capitol for her similarities to you. Only, Lucy Gray wasn't bat shit crazy.

Coryo's mind is reeling at the threat made to you as the girl starts to walk away. Within a second, before you can even make a move to tackle her, he's reaching onto the table and grabbing one of the guns. He lines up quickly and squeezes the trigger, letting the bullet fly square into the center of the girl's back. His training had paid off sooner than he thought. Coriolanus wasn't about to have you caught, sent back to a home much worse than that safety hazard at the edge of the Seam where you're currently staying.

"Mayfair!" Billy Taupe is quickly at the girls side, but she's already dead. Sejanus is shaking, and you are fighting back the smile that threatens to form on your lips despite the stress of the moment. "What have you done?" He screams at your friend.

"She was gonna get us all killed!" You defend. "You should be thanking him! Trust me, she was nothing special."

"You've got something comin', Capitol boy." He says, shaking his head as he looks up at the two of you, hatred filling his eyes. "You think you're gonna blame me for this? That you'll never get caught?"

You resist the urge to just shrug, agreeing that no, probably not. Undeniably, your best move would be to blame him. "He was defending all of us, can you not get that through your thick skull?" You settle on, keeping your footing as level as possible as Coryo pulls you back closer to his side again.

"If I swing, for this you will with me!" He screams in anger, back on his feet and moving quickly towards you as Coryo shoves you back behind him, lining up again. He didn't have to shoot, though, because Spruce does. The boy's body flings into the wall to the left of you from the force of the impact, slumping against the floor.

Your heart is pounding as you look between your two friends. "Sejanus, are you alright?" You ask, trying to approach him as Coryo starts shouting orders at Spruce to get rid of the guns.

"Hey, he's fine." Coryo grabs your arm, pulling you close to him to look at you. "I'm gonna handle this. Get back out there and sing, play the violin, just do something, okay?"

You glance back at Sejanus again, who is clearly panicking so bad he looks like he might faint. "No, I'm not leaving you, and Sejanus-"

"Sejanus is fine." Coryo says again sternly, shaking your shoulders now as he looks into your eyes. "Go back out there. I will handle this. I'll find you soon." He promises, gently pushing you in the way of the door. "Go. Now."

You swallow the anxiety sitting uncomfortably in the back of your throat and nod, glancing only briefly at your friends before you leave, closing the door quickly behind you.

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i've closed my taglist for coryo now!! sorry to everyone who wanted to be added, but unfortunately there was significantly more demand than i expected and i sadly just can't tag everyone. BUT! if you still want notifications when i post for this fic, please turn on my post notifs!!

[varpusvaras]

Beru found out about their new neighbour on a one pretty unremarkable day.

Owen was out that afternoon, gone to recycle some of the old machinery parts they had left after one of their perimeter sensors had finally been worn down by the increased storms. The desert was calm that day, thankfully, as Luke had started to become very restless from not getting to go outside in days.

Perhaps Beru should've realised that such restlessness was going to make Luke forget their usual rules, in his haste to get out of the house, as all of a sudden she noticed that the immediate area around the house was uncharacteristically quiet, and not full of noises made by little boy playing space battles.

She didn't, however, get too far in her searches, when there was a tall shadow casted onto the sand right next to hers.

"Excuse me-" The man didn't even get to finish what he was saying, when Beru had already reacher for the prybar in the toolbox and turned around, gripping it tightly and ready to strike.

The Suns were partially behind the man, obscuring his features momentarily from her. She was tall and broad-shouldered, standing straight with his head held high even in the heat of the day. On his arms he held Luke, who had his arms around the man's neck in a relaxed, loose grip.

That made her loosen up her grip from the prybar just a little. Luke had the gift of knowing when to trust people, even if sometimes that trust overextended itself a little. The man's hold of Luke was, however, also relaxed, which made him a bit more trustworthy to Beru.

The man bend down and placed Luke onto the ground, and by doing so, he gave his face enough shadow for Beru to see him better.

He looked young, if a bit weathered, with some lines already forming on his face, though Beru could tell that they were in places that usually got creased up when someone was constantly concerned about something. There was a long scar running down the side of his face, showing up starkly as the skin around it had tanned more recently. It was the thing that told Beru that the man had not spent too much time on the desert yet, despite his clothes having already been weathered as well, and his footing being even enough on the sand. His dark, curly hair looked like it had only now started to grow out of a very well-maintained shorter cut. Another sign of him being a newcomer.

Still, there was something familiar in him, something Beru couldn't quite place, and she wasn't quite sure if that should've made her relax more or be more suspicious of him.

The man looked at her. His dark eyes were just as weathered as the rest of him, but still kind.

Beru made her decision. She lowered the prybar, and let go of it with her other hand, grabbing at Luke instead.

The man's shoulders lowered a bit as well.

"Excuse me", he said. "I saw your nephew had gotten a bit far away from the house."

Beru looked down at Luke. He looked up at her, and gave her a bit of a sheepish smile.

"Yes", Beru said, and looked back up at the man. "Thank you."

The man nodded.

"No problem at all", he said to her, and then turned to speak to Luke. "Stay where you're supposed to. The desert is a dangerous place."

"But you were there by yourself as well", Luke piped up, not able to resist the urge to talk back just a little.

The man smiled at him. Beru though he had a rather nice smile, even if it was worn down as well. She wondered what kind of hardships he had gone through, out there in the Galaxy, to seem like he had been sanded down by a multiple of storms already.

"I've seen a lot of places that are worse than this, kid", the man said. "I'll be just fine."

He then nodded his head again at Beru, lifted the back of the dark blue cape he had draped over his shoulders over his head, turned around and walked into the desert without another word.

Beru watched him go, ever so slightly confused about the whole interaction. She only moved his eyes away when Luke tugged at her hand.

"Did you know him?" He asked. "I've never seen him before. Not here or in town."

Beru shook her head.

"No", she said. "Did he say anything to you?"

She had not had the mind to even ask the man his name. She looked back out in the desert. He had already disappeared somewhere beyond the dunes.

Luke shook his head.

"He did know you are my aunt", he said. "And not my mom."

True, Beru realised. He had called Luke her nephew, without any introductions.

She decided not to be too alarmed about that. There weren't a lot of people who lived in the area. Chances were that the man had just heard about them already, and remembered who lived in the house.

Still. Not a lot people lived in the area, and even less had any business around there either. On top of that, even though she was more than sure that she had never seen the man before, Beru thought he had looked awfully familiar in some way.

"He seemed nice", Luke said. "He felt nice."

"If you say so, my little sun", Beru said. "Your feelings are often very precise."

She decided not to tell Owen about the man that evening. He would've just gotten unnecessarily worried about it.

----

Beru saw a dark blue cape in the corner of her eye.

When she turned, it wasn't the man from the desert, even if she was sure it was the same cape, with the tattered edges and faded shoulders.

She did know the man wearing it, though. Ben seemed to feel her eyes on him, as he also turned to look at her, and very briefly nodded at her before he went back to dealing with a customer.

Beru thought about it as she went on her business, and she walked back by Ben's stall as she came back.

Ben was already packing up by then, and Beru saw that he had also made purchases, as he was tying some wares that Beru didn't believe he had brought all the way from his house to the town. At the top were a new bedroll, and a pair of boots that even from afar looked too big for Ben's feet.

Beru smiled, before turning away. It really seemed like Ben wasn't alone anymore. That was good.

[sidekickjoey]

In the summer of '86, fresh off of saving the world, Steve Harrington and Nancy Wheeler get blonde highlights.

Be it a coping mechanism after handling the hell that was spring or simply a mutual need for change, the decision is made without nervousness from either party. They enter the salon together, swear up and down to their assigned hairstylists that, yes, this is what they want and no, they do not care that their hair already looks perfect as is, thanks, and leave donning notably different looks.

Steve's signature chestnut ends up woven between streaks of gold, giving him a sort of distracting glimmering effect when he walks out into the sun. Nancy's waves, though still shoulder length and crimped to perfection, sway almost completely and utterly blonde in any light.

Needless to say, their new looks quickly make them, the former it-couple of Hawkins, the talk of the town once more - including that of their two closest friends, Eddie and Robin.

They, unlike the general public of Hawkins, have spent the past few months slowly building massive crushes on Steve and Nancy, entranced by their might after surviving the horrors of the Upside Down. While to most a change in hair color for Steve and Nancy is merely an oddity, to them? It's like someone hit the panic button and left them to scatter in a secluded room.

Robin has only been over her gaga-for-Vickie phase for a few weeks now. The wound is still fresh, and she knows she should not be looking once again into a possible unrequited love situation until she is better healed emotionally. She also knows he has a weakness for blondes that goes beyond all reason, i.e. Tammy Thompson and her muppet singing voice. She shouldn't act and possibly jeopardize one of her most sincere female friendships over a silly little weakness like that.

However, Nancy looks like a vision in blonde.

Robin thinks it's her big doe eyes that do it. They pop when the blonde meshes with Nancy's fair skin, and it makes her heart swoon in the most debilitating of ways. Not to mention, the softer cut she got along with the lighter coloring frames her face so well. Robin swoons over it. If not for her fear of rejection, she probably would have already taken the leap and done something stupid, like confess how Nancy's scrambled her brain.

Eddie's not doing much better himself with Steve.

He had been there in the early days, when Scoops Ahoy's newest worker showed up in his first edition of golden highlights. Like any good Hawkins resident, he had handled it with poise, class, and lots of extra trips to Scoops Ahoy whenever he happened to be at the Starcourt Mall, along with frequent whisperings of 'what the hell' expressed in the confines of his room where no one could hear him freak out. T'was standard™.

This look, though...it blows Scoops Ahoy Steve away by miles.

It's bright. It's golden. It's like he slipped and fell into some kind of radiant daydream, only to emerge like a ray of sunlight to distract Eddie Munson and Eddie Munson alone, and Eddie can't shut up about it.

Seriously, Wayne has heard enough.

The issue is, he has next to no idea what to do about these feelings. His mind is screaming to make a move on the guy, because you only live once and, well, he's already on his second try. However, his little worried heart loves Steve's newfound companionship and whatever odd-couple friendship they have going on right now. He doesn't want to lose that because of some dye job and a trim. It's too important, too good.

So, like Robin, he finds himself refraining.

They both refrain, and over the next week or so, the decision to do so eats at them like mad. They stumble over their words when speaking to Steve and Nancy. They actually stumble physically, in Robin's case, when Nancy walks by one morning. They tell anyone and everyone they can about it aside from Steve and Nancy, and by the end of that week, it all hits a breaking point. Word slips for the sake of everyone's sanity to Steve and Nancy.

It should mark the beginning of havoc and betrayal.

Instead, it breeds two plans.

Because, here's the thing: Steve and Nancy are not dumb, contrary to what some might think. They are wildly observant people. They know what their friends are up to, and Robin and Eddie are high on that friend list after spring. They've seen their behavior and, though Nancy had to spell a little bit of it out for Steve, both have come to the conclusion that something is definitely up in the crush department. If they want to capitalize on it, they know there is no better time than now while their haircuts are still new and their own crushes are seeking an opportunity to spill their feelings.

Nancy's plan to handle Robin, to the untrained eye, is simple. She's known for carefully thought out strikes when people least expect them, and the last thing she's going to do is stop using that tactic to her advantage now.

So, she invites the other girl on a trip to the mall for new bracelets. She claims it's on account of Holly taking hers hostage (not a total lie) and needing time out with someone her age (also not a total lie), and Robin buys it in seconds. A day later, they meet up at a boutique mall just outside of Hawkins and roam for a few hours together. It's simple. Casual. Subtle enough to be innocent from afar yet just intimate enough for Nancy to make her move when the time is right.

The time becomes right when they're sitting at a booth in the food court, chatting about Holly's other jewelry-related crimes. Nancy accidentally knocks the fork for her salad off the table, catching the attention of them both. Robin is quick to say she's got it, but Nancy is faster. Ready. She reaches down, picks up the fork, and in a fit of bravery, makes damn sure she holds eye contact with Robin the entire way back up. Robin swallows and looks away, clearly flustered and trying to behave over such a small thing as eye contact. But, Nancy doesn't want her to ignore it this time. So, she pulls a cheesy line from Steve's old book (that she totally did not rehearse with Steve, not at all) and misbehaves, just to get the ball rolling.

Batting her eyes, she asks in her most casual drawl, "Sheesh Robin, do blondes always make you this nervous?"

Robin chokes on her milkshake. 'Accidentally' knocks over her own fork. Goes down beneath the table to - not subtly - whisper-scream about what the hell that just was, because what the hell was that? Hello?

Nancy finds it incredibly endearing. She kind of wants to tell her about it.

She joins Robin on the floor to do so and giggles, freakin giggles, at Robin's shock and awe over her being there. Robin, panicked, reaches for the fork she dropped and holds it up to Nancy for her to see like it's some kind of explanation for her huddling under the table a full minute after it fell. She then stutters out a small 'got it,' despite Nancy being a goddamn journalist who notices things for her job and is fully capable of using her own two eyes to see, what the heck Robin??

Nancy still finds it all so endearing, though she doesn't think saying it out loud would be the best course of action anymore. Her last words sort of sent the poor girl into a spiral, and as fun as it is sharing this cramped space with her, she kind of wants to get off the gross tile if at all possible. So, instead, she does the next best thing and expresses her fondness physically.

With a kiss.

On the mouth.

Hidden by the table but all-too-real and seen to Robin, who forgets how to breathe because oh my gosh. Oh my GOSH.

It's perfect. It's effortless. It's everything. It's hands-down worth the hours of waiting Nancy had to do under a hairdryer in foils to get her here, and even more worth Robin's adorably rushed confession after the fact that she's always liked blondes, just a little bit.

~~~~~~

Steve's plan is a lot different than Nancy's.

He is a tried-and-true passionate romantic after all, and Eddie is about as dramatic as Shakespeare. A casual outing or demure kiss under a table is just not going to cut it in terms of a confession for either of them. Steve knows this. He tells it to Nancy. Repeatedly.

After hours of back and forth over the phone, he eventually finds himself at a music store, equipped with a wad of cash and his eyes set on an, admittedly, badass looking guitar. It has blue flames along its black exterior that rise to its very top and are lined with a reflective silver, making it glimmer even in the dim light of the shop. Eddie's been moaning about losing his sweetheart to the Upside Down for weeks -- no, months at this point. Steve thinks this blue beauty would be a perfect replacement for her. He also thinks it might just be what they need to stop dancing around each other's feelings too, if he's lucky.

He purchases it and stows it away in his bedroom before calling Eddie over the following day. The boy is all nerves when he finally arrives. Steve doesn't help ease them by running his hand through his hair more than once, but what can he say? It's a tough habit to break, and he's been doing it ever since he's hand anything more than a buzz cut. Sue him.

After pleasantries about their day are discussed and Eddie appears to be more calmed down, Steve invites him upstairs for a 'surprise' that just about undoes all the poor boy's progress at once.

Because Steve didn't just place the new guitar in its case and put a bow on it to surprise Eddie. No, he propped that sucker on its stand, bought a small light to illuminate the silver and blue, and placed a little card on the case that said, 'To Eddie, from your sweetheart.'

Steve watches as Eddie physically has to reboot upon seeing it all. He then rushes to cover his ears as Eddie returns to consciousness with a full-blown yell, running over to his gift with repeated 'no way's that get higher and higher in volume with each utterance. All noise ceases when he finally reads the card, though. That's when Steve feels safe enough to drop his hands to his side and make his approach, a shy grin on his lips.

"Like it?"

"Y-You're my sweetheart?"

With a shrug, Steve once again cards a hand through his hair. "If you want me to be. I-I mean, I assumed you would want me to be with all the looks you've been giving me, a-and everything with the Upside Down. But if I've got that wrong, if...shit, maybe I should just-"

Their first kiss is messy, wet, and way too enthusiastic.

Eddie's all teeth from how wide he's smiling into the kiss, and Steve nearly falls over from the sheer force of the guy barreling into him. He grows a bit dizzy, too, from how firm Eddie's grip on his hair has him, and that does little for his already frazzled balance. But, it's perfect. It's so stupidly them and perfect and wild like Steve had hoped it to be, like Eddie hoped it to be.

Later, when Steve leaves Eddie to enjoy his guitar in peace and breathe because, yeah, he finds himself making a mental note to call Nancy when he's home. If this is what one round of highlights gets him, he'll be damned if they don't plan another round for touch ups soon.

Stepping inside, Steve catches sight of a blinking light on his answering machine that tells him Nancy'd be damned, too.

He smiles.

[fiivela]

I think one thing that always bothered me about D*ego and Lila (censoring so those shippers don't have to see, I love D*ego) is that D*ego has a lot of trouble working as a team.

D*ego works alone. He is a vigilante who prides himself on his own ability and heroism. Most of his self worth comes from his ability to save people. He wants to be a hero. He wants to be the only hero.

He and Eudora didn't work for many reasons but mainly because D*ego is someone who needs to be in control of the situation. He thinks his way is the best and he doesn't want to do things other people's way because it makes him insecure (boy is traumatized).

He and Lila have an instant bond because she is also wild and anti-authority and doesn't play by the rules. But he still doesn't trust her (and rightly so in season 2) so he goes along with what she wants to feel her out and understand her better. However come season 3 when he does trust her, this is where I could immediately see that they would not be compatible for an extended period of time.

D*ego is extremely controlling of Lila in season 3. Because of his sensitive ego he has a lot of trouble with Lila taking the reigns and making decisions for herself. Yes, she is pregnant in season 3 but D*ego treats her like she can not make informed decisions and takes away opportunities for her TO make those decisions. He shows a complete lack of trust in her skills and decision making by locking her in closets and telling her he has made up his mind already for her. D*ego believes he is doing the right thing by protecting his family, but he isn't. He is treating her very similarly to how the Handler treated Lila, or at least it's possible she would perceive it that way.

But it makes sense why in season 4 she doesn't involve D*ego in her investigation of the Keepers. She wants to be in control and investigate at her own discretion, but D*ego would feel inclined to take the reigns and go full hero mode if he knew. He would let his ego take over and relegate Lila to sidekick.

I love D*ego as a character. I think he is beautifully complex and flawed, and my interpretation isn't to bash him, it is just what I observed from rewatching seasons 2 and 3 recently.

Now look at Five. Five talks a lot of shit about Lila in s2 because he knows she is the enemy - and he's right! He has no reason to trust her. He doesn't play pretend and try to investigate by getting her to trust him, he does a more respectful thing and tells her, hey, I don't trust you, don't fuck with me. He doesn't manipulate her, and he doesn't underestimate her.

Same in s3. He still doesn't fully trust Lila and tells her as much, but he now has more perspective on why she is the way she is. Like Five, she has spent a lot of time being manipulated by the Handler. They are both trained assassins from the commission. He understands why she is the way she is, and doesn't underestimate her. He recognizes her as being smart, resourceful and dangerous.

Come season 3, they have known each other for years now and Five knows she isn't going back to the commission and has no plans on hurting anyone. Now he can just appreciate her friendship as someone who is just like him! He finds her at the Keeper's meeting and he's intrigued. Five follows Lila's lead at the Keeper's meeting. He trusts that she has already sussed them out and asks her for her information instead of insisting on finding it out himself because he sees Lila's skills as valuable and appreciates that things that she was able to do that Five wasn't.

Now, on the subway they must rely on each other for survival and you see them actually helping each other. Lila cuts his hair, Five helps her injured foot, Lila even shaves his face - literally with a blade to his face! - and they enjoy and respect each others skills and what they bring to the team.

Once they get back, you see Five and Lila playing off of each other. Five tells Lila to use her lazor eyes, not to run away and let him handle it. Lila and him team up to use their powers together. Five listens to Lila's idea of using his power, even if he doesn't fully agree with her plan, because he trusts her and believes her to be smart and capable.

I just think that in the long run, Five and Lila would genuinely be more compatible than Lila and D*ego based off of the evidence I've seen and interpreted from the show.

[flowerandblood]

The Impossible Choice (4)

[ Aemond • Targaryen x Baratheon! • female ]

[ warnings: sex content, fingering, angst, smut, domination ]

[description: Aemond comes to Storm's End to choose his future consort. However, Lord Borros Baratheon presents him with only four of his five daughters. Being attached to his youngest child, he does not want to marry her. The prince, however, thwarts his and her plans with his decision. This is slow burn, with a lot of dark angst and sexual tension. (Anon Request)]

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

Previous and next chapters: Masterlist

______

The day before their nuptials in the Great Sept she could not sleep. She spent her last days in the care of the queen, preparing for the wedding, learning how she should behave in every situation, when she could speak, and with whom it was appropriate to dance and converse during the wedding feast.

She was surprised when the queen summoned her to her chamber for a face-to-face conversation, alone, even without her servants. She felt that she was about to learn something important and sat tensely in her chair, looking at her expectantly. The queen looked at her warmly, once again giving her that motherly look that she missed so much.

“I wanted to speak with you about your wedding night. Do you know what begetting an heir involves?” She spoke calmly, gently, as if afraid the topic of conversation might scare her.

She pursed her lips in shame, lowering her gaze, unable to look at her.

If you obey me, I will make sure that we both enjoy ourselves.

She didn't know what he meant, but he shocked her with this confession. She wondered if she should believe him, or if he was just manipulating her not to stand up to him.

She nodded slowly, and the queen sighed, rubbing her knees with her hands, as if the topic was uncomfortable and unpleasant for her as well.

"It will be best if you just lie on your back on the bed. This is the most comfortable position. Let him do what he needs to do, the sooner he's done, the better for you. It can be hard, but try not to cry, think about something else. After all, you should lie down for a while. This will help you beget his heir sooner." She said calmly, looking at her tenderly, sadly, comfortingly.

She swallowed hard at her words, horrified by what she heard, but at the same time she felt immense gratitude towards her for telling her all about it. She nodded her head again, indicating that she understood, not being able to utter a single word.

On the day of their nuptials she asked her servant for a cup of wine in the morning to calm herself down. She could feel her hands shaking, but the alcohol had dulled her and relaxed her, making her look less pale.

She tried to think only about seeing her brother and father again.

Royce did not disappoint her. He stepped into her chamber without warning, throwing himself at her while she was halfway through dressing her wedding gown. She laughed with joy when she saw him, her heart squeezed so hard with happiness at the sight of him that she wanted to cry.

Her brother took her warm cheeks in his hands, looking at her tenderly.

"You look beautiful, sweet sister."

He sat in an old wooden chair, sipping wine and chatting with her, as her servants pinned the puffy sleeves with cut-outs over the red chemise underneath her gown.

She tried not to think with regret that her sisters had not come to help her prepare for the day, even though it was a tradition.

She also knew that her father must have been speaking with the king himself and he was too occupied to see her as well.

Her maids had part of her hair braided in a circle around her head, and part of it combed into an exquisite, intricate braid that fell down her back. They slid pins of gold-plated pearls into her hair and placed jewelry around her neck.

She looked dignified, rich, beautiful.

Due to the fact that she was never considered as the future wife of the prince, she did not pay attention to her attires, considering that she would not look as good in a gowns as her sisters.

Now, looking at her own reflection in the mirror she thought proudly that she had not lacked anything.

Before the nuptials she received a blessing from her father.

For the first time in her life she saw him holding back tears of despair. She knew that he was suffering from the thought of what was going to happen to her that night.

She had no words of comfort for him or for herself.

She stroked his rough, beard-covered cheek and walked towards her retinue at the end of which was the carriage that would take her to the Great Sept with her father.

People cheered her as they drove through the sunny, bright streets of King's Landing; the people of the capital remembered the Baratheon's contribution to their safety in all the wars of recent years.

As she stepped out of the carriage in front of the sept she saw with joy that the children were throwing wildflowers at her. She wanted to collect them but her father urged her, saying that there was no time for that.

She placed her hand on his outstretched arm and walked with him to the center of the sept, amid the soaring sound of trumpets and the whispers of the gathered who might see her for the first time.

As she walked, she kept her eyes on the prince who was looking at her intensely.

He was standing in a beautiful black and red tunic, the colors of his house, straight and proud, his jaw clenched, his expression indifferent and expressionless, his gaze almost aggressive.

She thought that she didn't care anymore.

She felt like everything around her was happening outside of her. His cloak on her shoulders, their hands intertwined in front of the septon, their mouths uttering oaths.

They were husband and wife.

She heard the loud applause and cheers, the joy of the crowd.

She felt as if she had gone deaf.

She stared into his dark, dangerous, bright eye, piercing right through her and wondered what was going on in his head right now.

When they arrived at the wedding feast and sat down side by side, not a single word was exchanged between them. She smiled warmly at all the guests, recognizing that at least one of them had to look pleased.

She couldn't swallow anything.

She knew that he wouldn't ask her to dance, but she was still disappointed when it turned out that she really couldn't count on his involvement in this aspect.

Royce, apparently annoyed by this detail, asked her to dance himself. She glanced at her now husband, wordlessly pleading for his permission and saw him nod slowly, turning his face away again.

She knew that he watched her carefully as she danced with her brother and then with the other lords. She knew that he was possessive, that he now wanted to think of her as his own, and she couldn't upset him.

Not before what was about to happen.

As he stood suddenly, announcing that they were going to rest, she felt her heart pounding like crazy in her chest, her whole body froze and stiffened.

She looked up at him and saw that he was glancing at her expectantly, so she rose slowly and bowed to her father and the king, who followed them with uncertain stares.

She followed him silently to his chamber, where Lyanna was already waiting for her to help her pull off her elaborate gown and undid her hair. She stripped her down to a lovely, beautiful embroidered, snow-white nightgown and approached her, smearing her neck and wrists with a pleasant, floral-scented oil.

Looking at herself in the mirror she thought that she was completely vulnerable, helpless.

That's what he wanted.

She shuddered and glanced quickly over her shoulder as she saw that he stood up from his chair, already dressed only in his linen shirt and breeches, a clear impatience in his gaze that it had taken so long.

"Leave." He said dryly.

Lyanna wanted to protest that she wasn't done yet, but the prince gave her only one murderous look, which made her shiver and silently leave, avoiding him, closing the door behind her.

They were left alone.

She could feel the tension between them, the stuffy, heavy air in the chamber; all she could hear in her ears was her rapid breathing and the beating of her own heart.

She thought that she would do anything he asked her to do as long as he didn't hurt her.

After a moment's thought, he approached her with slow, unhurried step. She stared at him helplessly, her mouth slightly parted in a troubled breath that she couldn't control.

He grabbed her jaw with his hand, but more gently than before and stared at her for a moment.

She shivered as his fingers slid from her face to her neck and he began to massage her nape with slow, calm movements that gave her goosebumps all over her body. She wondered what was happening to her, because she wasn't entirely sure if the only feeling she felt was fear.

He leaned over her suddenly, her breath caught in her throat, her eyes wide in horror and anticipation.

“Kiss me.” He whispered and pressed his lips to hers instantly, closing his hand around her neck, holding her in an iron grip.

She stifled a moan, only a soft, startled sound coming out of her mouth, feeling how greedily he bit into her skin, how soft, fleshy and wet his hungry lips were.

She felt his fingers tighten on the nape of her neck at her lack of response, so she timidly brushed his upper lip with her throbbing, sticky mouth, making a low, satisfied sound coming out from his throat.

"More." He commanded softly, and she felt a pleasant squeeze between her thighs at the sound of his hoarse voice, his caresses lazy and pleasant.

She tried to imitate his movements, placing her hand on his chest for balance, running her lips over his, pressing them lightly, wanting to see how it felt. Something inside her was throbbing again and again at the wet, sticky click of their saliva that she heard every time their lips parted, only to meet in another kiss.

He pulled away from her, his mouth puffy, swollen from their caresses that seemed to fill him with desire. His eye wasn't so stern anymore, she thought that he was pleased. So far she didn't feel any discomfort either, quite the opposite − he smelled of soap and bath, sweat and thirst that made her throat dry.

"Will you obey me?" He asked low, his voice quivering slightly with arousal.

For some reason she felt wetness between her thighs at his question, but thought it couldn't be moon bleeding yet, because it was too early.

She nodded and squealed softly as he suddenly lifted her by the hips, walking with her toward his bed. He placed her on her back, and she thought that was it.

She settled herself comfortably on the bedding, looking at him expectantly, feeling her whole body tremble. He did not lie on top of her as her sister had said, however, but sat next to her on the bed, leaning over her.

She shuddered and swallowed hard as she saw his hands begin to untie her nightgown. He unfolded the fabric in two, exposing her breasts to him, making her voice get stuck in her throat.

She didn't know what was happening.

She turned her head involuntarily, breathing loudly, ashamed that he was looking at her naked body in such a licentious way, so close, not even trying to cover herself, knowing that there was no point in resisting, desperation and anxiety on her face.

"Look at me." He commanded. She flinched all over and obeyed him with difficulty, looking at him pleadingly, gasping for breath, feeling her whole body aflame and hot.

She inhaled sharply as she felt his large hand on her breast, running his fingers over it, kneading it lightly, tentatively. She saw his lips part as he felt her soft, firm skin under his hand, his gaze was serious, but also full of arousal and darkness that made her feel throbbing between her thighs.

She nearly jumped and stifled a moan, pressing her lips together as she felt his thumb brush over her nipple, surprised by the brief, sudden thrill of pleasure she felt. He repeated this movement encouraged by her reaction, and she trembled all over, unable to take her eyes off his face. She saw him frown, his chest heaving uneasily.

"I want to hear you. Your every moan belongs to me." He hissed, pressing his thumb against her nipple harder, teasing and rubbing her on purpose.

When a soft, sweet moan of surprise escaped her lips at last, she saw the glint in his eye, the corner of his mouth twitched dangerously, his breathing quickened.

"− good girl −" He whispered with some kind of appreciation, she pursed her lips at his praise, feeling the squeeze between her thighs, a hot, tickling tension building up inside her for some reason.

Her breath caught in her throat as he leaned over her, his mouth clung greedily to her breast, sucking on her nipple like a small child. Another, this time more intense shiver of pleasure vibrate through her body, making her whimper softly, clenching her hands on either side of her head into fists.

She was afraid to touch him.

She didn't know if she should.

The Queen did not reveal such details to her, additionally neither she nor her sister mentioned anything about what her husband was doing to her now.

She pursed her lips and sucked in a loud breath as she felt his hand slid down to the bare skin of her thigh, pulling her chemise up, her legs trembled and closed involuntarily as she felt him want to put his fingers between them.

"Never close your thighs in front of me." He said coldly, stopping the caress, looking at her expectantly.

She swallowed hard and meekly spread her legs slightly, letting him do what he wanted. He hummed contentedly as he went back to sucking on her puffy, hard nipple, felt them both gasp and freeze for a moment as his fingers touched her hot womanhood.

No one had ever touched her in this place, so intimate and private.

Her whole body shuddered as his fingers ran over her moist folds, rubbing a bud hidden between them, sending a spasm of pleasure through her. She heard him stifle a guttural moan as he found her sticky wetness, leaking from her slit down onto the sheets, he looked at her with a gaze from which she felt embarrassment.

"− gods − already so fucking wet −" He hummed, obviously as surprised as she was.

She thought, seeing his reaction, that apparently this was good information.

She opened her mouth wide in silent amazement as his movement changed, his fingers began to press firmly around her pearl, teasing this spot with circular, steady strokes, from which she felt a twitching deep inside her. He felt it and licked her nipple with a low purr, making her threw her head back with a warm, innocent moan.

She didn't expect that.

What she was feeling now had nothing to do with pain.

She was terrified that he was touching the most intimate parts of her body, but he was doing it in such a way that she felt a pleasant, hot tickle in her lower abdomen, which made her feel an increasing need for relief, although she did not know how she could experience it.

She sobbed loudly, flinching suddenly as she felt his middle finger press against her opening, pushing against her tight, hot, fleshy walls. It was both uncomfortable and pleasant, she had never experienced this kind of sensation before and was terrified, so she tried to loosen up and breathe loudly through her mouth.

"− easy − don't resist me − take what I give you −" He murmured, returning to his earlier caresses, pressing his lips to her breasts as if he couldn't tear himself away, she heard him make low, guttural growls every time his tongue licked again her hard nipple.

She whimpered softly as his finger slowly slid deeper into her hot core, stretching her so much that she spread her thighs wider to make it easier for herself and for him, having no clue what he was actually doing.

She moaned loudly when he finally slid his finger all the way in and sighed in relief when he slid it out gently. Her voice stuck in her throat as he repeated the motion, pushing his finger into her at an increasingly rapid pace, rubbing her just above her entrance, teasing some spot inside her through which she felt shivers of pleasure.

Suddenly his pace changed from gentle and steady to quick and sure, his finger slipping in and out of her with the wet clicks of her moisture, squeezing her so deliciously that she wanted to beg him to stop, feeling that something was about to happen to her body, that her tension was reaching a peak.

"− please −" She mewled, her hand clenching helplessly on his arm that he was leaning on, rocking her hips involuntarily to the thrusts of his finger.

"− shhh −" He hummed contentedly, adding his second finger to her interior, causing her body to writhe under him in spasms.

She was no longer able to look at him or focus on anything, her body leaning back, her eyes closed with pleasure, sweat running down her soft skin with exertion.

She drew in a quick breath when he suddenly stopped, sliding his fingers out of her, looking at her with wide eye, his lips parted in unutterable delight.

"− fuck − I need to feel you −" He panted, reaching into the material of his breeches, untying them quickly.

She swallowed hard as he spreaded her legs in front of him, holding her hips, drawing her closer in one, firm motion. His hands went to his breeches again, sliding them down just enough to free his throbbing, swollen erection.

She turned her head away, ashamed of the sight, terrified that this was what she was about to feel inside her.

She didn't know how she was going to take it if his fingers was already causing her discomfort in the begging.

She felt his hand grab her cheeks, turning her face towards him.

"Look at me." He hissed, and she shivered at the sight of his dark eye.

No man had ever looked at her that way before.

He licked his lips with a grunt of satisfaction as her large, terrified eyes remained fixed on his face. He leaned over her, placing his hands on either side of her head, breathing loudly, his long, white hair tickling her cheeks.

They both knew what was about to happen.

"Spread your thighs wide." He whispered, his voice a little softer, but still commanding. She opened her mouth, trying to catch her breath, and obediently did as he said, trying not to think about how scared she was.

She felt his hands lift the fabric of her nightgown above her thighs, exposing everything underneath, her body in some subconscious reflex wanted to move away when she felt the fat, pink head of his cock begin to push against her hot, leaking opening. She trembled as the fingers of one of his hands grabbed her hip warningly, digging into her soft skin.

"Don't run away from me. Be good and I'll take it slow." He gasped as she felt the tip of his manhood press against her entrance again.

She felt his fingers slid lower, parting the skin of her folds to the sides, making her feel uncomfortable.

She pursed her lips as she felt it, trying not to make a sound.

She squirmed silently, closing her eyes as she felt him force his way inside her, her fingers involuntarily clenched into fists, she had the feeling that, indeed, according to her sister's words, her husband was about to tear her apart from the inside.

Was she supposed to fit it all in?

She heard his soft sigh when he slid deeper into her, as if he was in pain himself.

"− fuck − breath − just a little more − I promise −" He panted, and she swallowed hard, trying to calm her breathing, to relax her body.

She was relieved that he stopped, waiting for her walls not to press against him so terribly.

They both breathed a loud sigh when, after a moment, one sure thrust of his hips sank him deep into her, causing her a burning, sharp pain that, however, passed after a moment.

It was a strange, disturbing and intimate feeling at the same time.

She considered it an act of his grace that he waited a moment before sliding out of her slowly only to thrust into her again a moment later, she had the feeling that her muscles had adjusted to his size.

He watched her intently, looking at her with wide-open eye, apparently assessing whether he could already speed up his pace, which he did as soon as he heard her first startled moans.

The tip of his manhood rubbed and squeezed again and again the spot inside her where he had previously dug his fingers in.

Gods, she thought.

It feels good.

Involuntarily, she tightened her hand on his arm and looked at him in horror, not even noticing when they both began pant, first softly, then louder and louder, her hands clenched on his shirt, as she couldn't hold back the tension that was building again in her loins, rising like boiling water.

With each of his sharp, deep thrust, his thighs slammed against her buttocks with a wet slaps of her moisture, so shamelessly, dirty, that she writhed all over him.

"− yes − that's it − ah − so fucking tight −" He exaled, and she, surprised by his words, just moaned sweetly, making him completely lose his temper.

He rose suddenly, taking her hips in his hands, kneeling in front of her, rooting into her quickly and brutally, rubbing her where she needed it each time, making her body arch back in pleasure, shocked by the intensity of the sensation.

"− come on − give me what I want − fuck, I want to hear it −" He panted, slamming into her with all the strength he had in his hips, she felt like he would burst into her stomach.

She didn't know what he meant, but she no longer felt pain or discomfort.

She felt numb to a different kind of feeling, her vision blurred, her mind completely foggy.

All she could hear was how they both panted and moaned alternately, the bed below them creaking with each of his thrusts, each slap of his thighs.

Suddenly she felt something approaching, her whole body tensed, as if trying to defend herself against it.

And then it happened.

She leaned back with her mouth parted wide and sobbed loudly, helplessly, pressing her cheek to the pillow, as a wave of unexpected pleasure surged brutally through her body, then a second, a third, and a fourth.

She heard him groan low, panting in delight at what he had seen in front of him, he made a loud, almost animal sound of relief, and then a warmth spilled inside her. He rocked his hips in her for a while longer, breathing heavily, and then he fell on top of her without strength, crushing her with his weight.

She stared at the door to his chamber, panting loudly, her body trembling in convulsions from what she had just experienced.

She was in shock.

She didn't know that her body was capable of something like this.

He slipped his manhood out of her with her quiet hiss of discomfort, rising immediately, tying his breeches back on. She heard him grunt loudly before he spoke, his breathing still quickened and his voice slightly hoarse as he said the words.

"You may now return to your chamber."

She felt a stab of pain and rejection at his words, unsure if he was dismissing her or if he wanted her to decide for herself where she would spend the night after what had happened.

“The queen said that I should lie down for a long time afterwards. Thanks to this, as she said, I will give you an heir sooner." She whispered in a trembling voice, her body still unable to recover from what she had just experienced.

She saw him glance at her over his shoulder, looking at her intensely. In the end he just grunted and nodded, apparently giving her permission to do what she thought that was appropriate, with no intention of meddling in these intricate, feminine matters.

He walked around the bed, getting under the covers and lying on his stomach, turning his head away from her, not saying a word.

She didn't say anything to him either, but she couldn't help the smile that appeared on her face.

He could pretend to be indifferent to her and not speak to her, but the truth was that he desired her.

She thought, surprised, that he had kept his promise.

He made her enjoy it.

She wondered if he would lose interest in her after all this, or if on the contrary he would want her even more.

She decided that the most important thing was not to impose herself on him, not to make him feel like he broke her or owned her, not to fall to his knees in front of him, begging him to love her.

Most of all, she wanted him to respect her.

She closed her eyes, sighing softly in relief that it was all over.

She wasn't a maiden. The marriage was sealed.

Officially, in the eyes of gods and man, she was his wife.

_____

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[utterlyotterlyx]

Another Love - Alternate Ending

Azriel x Fem!Reader

Based on this ask

Original here

Summary - Azriel knows you'd never leave his side, no matter what, but when his new situationship with Elain takes over his every living moment and he takes advantage of your feelings, you make the only decision you can to save yourself only for him to hurt you in a way you never thought he could.

Warnings - ANGST, fluff, swearing, neglect, abuse of feelings, mentions of death, slight grovelling, lots of sadness, feminine rage

Word Count - 6.5k jeez

The clock ticked away, idly counting the seconds by, seconds that turned to minutes, and minutes that turned to hours, hours that Azriel had seemingly forgotten about the promise he had made to take you to the theatre.

The cobalt blue bow in your hair, that you had chosen to perfectly match him, swayed sadly as you moved about your room with a heavy heart, hanging up the dress you had bought especially for the occasion and changing into something more comfortable to wallow in self-pity.

It had become normal, his lateness, his nightly visits became later and shorter until they had stopped all together, well, that is until he needed something from you, and you would give him whatever he asked for, no matter how much it hurt you.

You had been a part of the Inner Circle for over 500 years, you were one of the originals, growing up in the camps with Rhys, Cassian and Azriel, Rhys' mother protected you fiercely, and you were very close to Selene, your chosen sister. You were the one they turned to for everything, you were wise and brutal, an incredible warrior and tactician, but also soft and kind; you were the blue break in a sky of storm clouds, you were the spring breeze that cut through the edge of winter, you were everything.

A thing Azriel knew all too well.

It didn't surprise you when Azriel had become fond of Elain, like it didn't surprise you when he had pined after Mor for all those years, completely looking over you in the process. Elain was a soft and fragile thing, she was quiet and graceful, and Azriel was completely besotted by her. A fact that made your heart curse your stupidity, cursing the hope you had willed into it that maybe he would finally see you.

It was no secret that you and Azriel were the closest out of all of the members of your growing family, you had shared 500 years of respect and adoration for one another.

Azriel was by your side when Selene had so brutally lost her life, he had held your hand through the depression and brought you back to life. Azriel knew every single thing that you loved and hated, he knew what every facial expression meant, he knew every tick of your body language which silently conveyed how you were feeling. Azriel knew you better than anyone, even better than he knew himself. The map of you laid etched bare on the back of his hand, a map he used to scour daily, but now barely even glanced at.

It wasn't so one sided.

You knew Azriel better than anything, and you knew a lot. 500 years of life pointed to a rich knowledge. You were the one who cleaned him up after a mission, you're the one who mended his broken bones and washed his turmoil away. You were the one who helped him overcome his insecurities with his hands. You were the one his shadows shot to at family dinners. You were the one who sang him to sleep when his demons had become to much. There was nothing you wouldn't do for Azriel, even if it meant standing on the side-lines until he wanted you.

Moonlight streaked along the floor of your bedroom, cascading across the pale blue of your comforter and drifting along the edges of your antique furniture. The dress you had wanted to wear to the theatre hung off the frame of your mirror, rippling softly in the gentle breeze that entered through the slightly ajar window.

It was silly to feel upset, you knew Azriel didn't owe you any of his time, but you had really thought he would pull through, especially after you had told him how much you missed spending time with him.

Interrupting your damaging thoughts, your door opened to reveal Azriel, who looked annoyed and not at all in knowing of his lateness or the promise that now lay in tatters in your chest. From the look on his face, you knew instantly that Elain was the one who plagued his mind, she was the cause of it every time he had come to see you recently.

Huffing, Azriel trudged to your cream living area, propping his feet up on the antique table you had asked him to be careful with far too many times and sinking into the cushions. He hadn't spared you a glance as he entered, he didn't note his colour in the form of a bow in your perfectly styled hair, he didn't see the sadness in your eyes laced with that naïve hope that he may have turned up to apologise for being late. He didn't see you.

"What happened this time?" You inquired, wrapping yourself tighter into your robe and sliding into the seat beside him, tucking your legs underneath you and propping your head in your palm as you stared at him.

Azriel was beautiful, scars and demons and all, the height of his cheekbones, those hazel oceans of a thousand emotions, the golden skin and arched brows, the curve of his muscles under his second skin, everything about him was intoxicating.

"Lucien," Azriel through his head back and closed his eyes, breathing deeply through his nose, "I was so close to kissing her, so close, Y/N. And then Lucien walked in, he ruined it."

The revelation had stung, he'd never admitted to you to being close to kissing Elain before, it was always a myriad of stolen glances and ghosting touches, of hushed words laced with a million differing meanings. But never a kiss.

Azriel paid no mind to the hurt that radiated from you, he knew it was there, he always knew it was there but he couldn't focus on it.

Only an idiot could be blind to the clear feelings you had toward Azriel, the way you looked at him was not the way a friend looked at another friend, no matter how close they were. Azriel knew that he could never truly push you away, no matter how much you were hurting you'd never leave, he knew that, he knew you'd always be there for him to fall into.

It was so awfully wrong, but he lapped in serenity you gave him, in that unwavering loyalty, and he had no intention to stop drinking from your fountain of love.

"Lucien is her mate, Az. He's bound to not like whatever it is that's going on between you," your voice was gentle and full of understanding, your hand rested on his shoulder and he felt any anger disappear almost immediately. That's what your touch alone could do to him, bring him immeasurable peace.

"I know," he sighed, opening his eyes and turning his head to the side to look at you, a small smile tugged at his lips when he noticed how pretty you looked, with your hair parted just how he liked it, and with a bow tied neatly at the back, "I still think that the cauldron was wrong," your face faltered when he immediately continued on his weekly rant, "It gets it wrong sometimes, we know that. It's wrong, it has to be."

All you wanted was for Azriel to be happy, he deserved it more than anyone you knew. Rhys had found Feyre, who you adored tremendously. Cassian had found Nesta, who had become a very good friend of yours. So, you couldn't blame Azriel for believing that Elain was fated to be his, three brothers for three sisters. Even you had to admit that it made sense, The Mother moved in mysterious ways.

You plastered a smile on your face, you vision catching the satin of your new dress moving softly against the breeze, "Maybe it is," Azriel hummed at your words before continuing on, listing everything he adored about Elain.

"I wish sometimes that she was you, you know? That her and I could be like this, with no one watching over us, to be able to spend time alone and do whatever we wanted to do and talk about anything," it was like he didn't realise what he exactly he was wishing for.

Azriel wanted you to be Elain, so that he could have the life he dreamed of. Elain. Not you. Elain.

You weren't good enough for him.

"I hope you get to that point one day, Az," your voice was strained from holding in your strangled sobs, "I'm tired, can we talk about this more tomorrow?"

"Sure," Azriel smiled at you, rising from his seat and heading to the door, standing in the doorway and looking back at your form still glued to your spot, "I like your bow, Y/N. Blue suits you, always has," and then he closed the door behind him, you waited a few moments before letting your sobs flow through your lips and ripping that damned bow from your hair.

Azriel would never see you the way you begged to be seen, and you couldn't sit around and be the one he fell back to when life wasn't going his way.

More days had passed, more days of Azriel complaining to you, more days of Azriel wishing that Elain and you had switched paths so that he could finally get what he was owed.

Azriel didn't care for your tear stained skin, he didn't care for your weary eyes whenever you spoke of Elain to you.

It was awful that he knew exactly what he was doing, he was abusing your relationship with him, he knew you'd never walk away from him, he knew you'd never be able to put your foot down and tell him to cut it out.

The idea of a mate had him completely obsessed, obsessed to the point that he became blind to what was right in front of him, what had always been in front of him. That blind faith in your loyalty crumbled in his fingers once Rhys had told him that you had decided to purchase your own home in the city, a home away from them all.

"What?" Azriel had asked from his place at the dinner table, bewildered by the news given to them once he had asked where you were.

Nesta knew the exact reason why you had decided you separate yourself from them, you couldn't handle the rejection anymore, and you couldn't begin to heal from the decades worth of heartbreak under the same roof as Azriel and Elain. Nesta knew you held no ill feeling toward her youngest sister, you were too kind for that, you knew it wasn't her fault that Azriel came to you each time something went wrong in their situationship, but that didn't make it hurt any less.

"She left, Az," Mor had cried when Rhys had pulled her to one side that afternoon to tell her that you had decided to move into the home that Rhys had bought you after you had made it clear that you needed your own space, and Rhys had spent an hour trying to convince his cousin that your decision was not impacted by anything any of them did.

"Why didn't you tell me?" Azriel asked his brother who frowned, Feyre grabbed Rhys' hand and squeezed it in hers, "She can't just leave, Rhys."

"She has every right to after everything she's done for all of us, she deserves some peace," Rhys spoke calmly, snapping his fingers and allowing the sentient home to rid the plates and serving dishes from the table.

Azriel was speechless, he felt a frantic pull in his body, one that was poisoned with desperation at the thought of you being anywhere else than under the roof of the River House, the home you had spent a century redecorating and perfecting, paying special attention to each room to make it feel as homely as possible.

He didn't believe it as his chair groaned against the floor and he took off up the stairs toward your room, pushing his way through the doors to find it completely empty. No pictures hanging on the walls, no lines of hooks containing an array of ribbons in different hues, no dresses draped over your mirror, no antique furniture. It was all gone, and the scent of you that was usually so strong that it drowned him was a whisper in the atmosphere.

You had left.

Anger bubbled within him, how could you leave without saying anything? How could you move out of your shared home without a single word? How could you leave him after 500 years at his side?

Azriel flung open the doors to your balcony, a balcony plush with fresh flowers and greenery, he flexed his wings and hurtled himself into the starlit sky, allowing his shadows to peel from his body and search every inch of Velaris until they returned to him reeking of your scent and pulled him down to a small townhouse along the bank of the Sidra.

It was a charming home, pale brickwork, large bay windows, golden light emitting from them, and a large garden full of rich wildlife and botanicals. Your scent flowed from the closed oak door, lavender and honey with a hint of firewood and he found himself following that smell up the winding path until he was knocking on your door.

Golden light flowed from the home as you opened the door. You were dressed in denim overalls that were spatted with cream paint, you hair was loosely bound on the top of your head, and your face was full of uneasy surprise as you looked at him, "Az, what are you doing here?"

Azriel pushed past you and stood in the centre of your hallway, listening to your deep exhale as you closed the door. The space was pretty, it was very you, the walls were half painted cream from their original sage colour that you were obviously painting over, the coving was white and saturated with intricate little sketches of leaves, the carpet was a rich brown and had clearly been laid that day from how interrupted it looked, the only pattern on it being the imprints of your bare feet. Azriel didn't stop his shadows as they extended from him and scoured each part of your new home, nodding with approval and curling around your fingers in understanding adoration.

White sheets were draped over your perfectly placed furniture, to protect it from the paint no doubt, and the same tarp lay at the foot of the walls to protect the carpet. Music drifted softly about the room, and boxes upon boxes of books lay open, with some of them idly placed on shelves to get them out of the way to be sorted properly at a later date.

"It's true? You've really left," he noted the intricately presented kitchen, white cabinets and exposed wooden beams, just like you always wanted.

You rounded him, walking into your new living space, bending down to pick up one of your plant pots before placing it on the window ledge, your back faced him but he could see the pain in your features through the reflection in the window, "Yes, I live here now."

"No. No. You're coming home with me, this is ridiculous," his heart was beating a mile a minute, he couldn't think straight, all that was consuming him was the reality that his fear had come to fruition, that the one person he believed would never leave him had actually walked away.

"I'm not coming back, Azriel," you told him softly, and he saw your shoulders rise and fall with each deep inhale of breath you forced your lungs to take.

Then you turned to him, in the middle of the home that you were trying to make yours, a home away from him, "I thought you'd never leave me. You can't leave me. You're my best friend, I need you."

"No, you don't. You need someone to fall back onto when life isn't going your way, that's all I am to you now," you felt your heart breaking, you felt it shattering in your chest, "I can't be the one you turn to when something becomes between you and Elain. I can't be the one you wish was her. I can't do it anymore, Az. You've taken advantage of me for too long. You promise me the world and show up empty handed. You don't realise I even exist until you need someone to complain to and I just can't do it anymore."

Azriel knew every word you were saying was the truth, he knew he had been using you, but he never expected you to actually walk away from him, you were supposed to love him too much to leave.

Your heart was in the palm of his hands and he knew it, he knew you'd spent hundreds of years falling deeper in love with him each passing day whilst he pined for someone else. The fact of your departure made a bitter monster appear in his mind, he allowed it to tug on the venom in his heart, he allowed it to control him, "Aren't you supposed to be in love with me?"

Azriel watched your eyes widen and a breathless gasp fall from your lips, "You know?"

The Shadowsinger scoffed, "Of course I know. Only a fool wouldn't be able to see it," he saw your face contort into painful sorrow but did nothing to stop himself from saying, "I've known for years. I've known that you'd never leave, you've always been the one that I come to for anything I need and you never complain or tell me to leave. You made it easy to take advantage of you."

A tear slid down your cheek but Azriel made no move to wipe it away, "I want you to leave."

"I'm not leaving without you."

Fire roared in your eyes, "You have no right to command me after what you've knowingly done. I honestly thought that you didn't know, that it was innocent and that you just needed my advice. Now I know that you've willingly abused my kindness, Azriel, you can rot in hell," the tears didn't stop flowing from your eyes, your voice was strained and sore, your chest was so tight that you thought it may stop beating all together, "Get. Out!"

Azriel had left you then, he had left your door wide open and soared into the skies, leaving you in the home that was now tainted by his deceit.

It had been months since Azriel had seen you, Nesta and Feyre had practically forbid him from going anywhere near your home, that being from the land or sky. But that didn't stop him from allowing his shadows to slither under your front door or linger in the streets, he was desperate to know how you were.

Azriel hated himself for what he had said to you, he hated himself for taking advantage of you. In some way he tried to justify it, you were too good for him, he didn't want to ruin you, but it was clear that he already had.

Your absence had left a void that no one could fill, not even Elain despite her efforts, even the thought of her made his stomach drop and sickness swirl to the point where he couldn't bring himself to be around her. All Elain did was remind him of how he failed you.

Azriel had tried writing to you since you wouldn't see him, he gave the letters to Feyre and Nesta, the latter of which still saw your daily, and grew colder toward him with each passing moment. Even Cassian did nothing to hide his disappointment in him, and Rhys had some very telling words to express once Feyre had told him the truth of what had happened in your home that night.

Nothing was working, things with Elain were strained and difficult, the problems between them so raw and everyone's opinions so disapproving that it created a distance between them that was unmanageable.

Then it dawned on him that nothing was working with Elain because it wasn't meant to. The person who was meant to be his had been under his nose for 500 years, and now wanted nothing to do with him.

Cassian had pulled Azriel from his thoughts by stepping through the threshold of his room, "Are you coming to training?"

"Tell me how to fix it," Azriel lifted his head from his hands and turned his head toward Cassian who sighed in reply, moving to the bed to sit beside Azriel, "I need to know how to fix it."

"Only you can figure that out, Az," Cassian spoke to him, throwing his arm over Azriel's shoulder before continuing, "Y/N loves you Az, she has for 500 years. A few months apart won't change that. You're really fucking stupid for this though, she's the only one of us who knew the exact right thing to do and say every time. Y/N deserves more than the basic requirements of respect, she deserves the world in the palm of her hand and a person who loves her more than he loves himself. Don't bother her unless you can do that."

It was the anniversary of Selene's death, and the day hadn't gotten any easier for you to deal with.

Rhys and you had made a habit of doing something together each year, though, Azriel was the one to accompany you when Rhys had gone Under the Mountain. The location was sacred to you, you and Rhys would bundle yourselves up in blankets and watch the sun set over the Sidra, you'd rehash old memories and stories, ones that you both knew the script to by heart, but that never got old.

Your High Lord had tried to convince you to come home, but didn't push you when you had told him no. Your life had began to feel rather empty without the family antics that consumed your day-to-day life.

"I miss her," you had told him sadly, your head rested on his shoulder as the sun tipped her toes into the water in the distance, the sky grew darker each passing minute.

Rhys hummed, holding you closer to his side, "So do I," he replied with equal sadness, you had all grown up together, you basically were his sister by blood, and when you both had lost her, it only made him clutch to you more, "She'd nail Az's balls to the wall for sure."

A laugh passed through your lips before it died in your throat, you had done your best to not think about Azriel despite him owning your soul, you had done your best to heal from what he had done, but even then, you missed him more than anything, "How is he?"

It was the first time you had asked about him since before you had moved to your new home which was now fully decorated and yours, thanks to Rhys, Feyre and Nesta who made it their priority to help you settle, "He's-" Rhys couldn't lie to you, he was never able to even when you were younger, "-Not great. He misses you, he hates himself for what he said to you that night."

"I'd hate myself too," you had hummed, shifting to stand on the stone ledge where you and Rhys had sat, wanting a better view of the sun as it began to disappear against the horizon.

A familiar cold kiss pecked at your ankles and you looked down to see those shadows you had missed so dearly meandering around where you stood. Cedar entered your lungs and you shivered in painful delight as his warmth curled around your back.

"Y/N," his voice was deep and rough, it was pleading, you looked to your side and found that Rhys had vanished. That damn meddler. "Please look at me."

Not able to say no to that voice, you indulged the Shadowsinger and turned on the balls of your feet to peer upward at him. Azriel had his wings neatly tucked behind his back, his hands dangled at his sides, and his head was hung low. He looked terrible.

"Why are you here?"

Azriel clenched his jaw, he didn't expect you to be happy to see him, but it didn't stop the self hatred from growing in every single cell of his body, "I know how hard today is for you, I just wanted to see if you were alright."

"Well I'm fine, so you can go now," you made a move to walk away, to take the path down the edge of the Sidra to your home which had become your haven away from reality.

Though, you didn't get very far, perhaps two steps before Azriel's fingers curled around your wrist, stopping you in your tracks and pulling you back to him, "Y/N, I don't even know how to apologise in the way that you deserve. I don't know how to say sorry and make you feel like I see and hear you."

"What I did was disgusting, I hate myself for it. I never should have taken advantage of you like that, you've done everything to help me the entire time that I've known you and I ruined everything for someone I don't even want. I've always wanted a mate, you know that, and I got so carried away with wanting it that I completely ignored the only person who's ever truly loved me for me despite all of the horrid things I have done. Elain isn't you, Y/N. No one compares to you. No one makes me feel safe like you do, no one makes me feel alive like you do, and no one can make me hope for death by their void like you do."

"I am yours, Y/N. I always have been. I couldn't be the reason you ever got hurt, I couldn't be the one to risk extinguishing that glorious fire in your soul. You are the only one I cannot bear to lose, the thought of losing you terrifies me, it always has, and instead of protecting you, I took advantage of you and pushed you away because I would rather hurt someone else with everything that I am than hurt you with just a a part of it."

"I'm so stupid for ignoring you, I'm a prick for using you as my security blanket rather than let you in, you know me better than I know myself, you love me more than I could ever imagine, and it terrified me because I couldn't let myself love you. I couldn't let myself taint you."

Azriel lifted his hands, cupping your face in his palms and you could see every inch of despair within him, that conflicted flame dancing within his soul, "I'm not asking you to forgive me, I don't think I will ever be able to forgive myself after what I've done to you. I'm not asking for anything from you. I just need you to know that no matter how severe your storm, I promise I won't leave your side, I'll stay with you through the howling winds that whip my cheeks raw and red. I will stay and hold you when the night leaves you shivering and give you space when when your searing heat pushes you into a fiery rage. I will stay and love you in whatever way you crave, whether that be from next to you or from wherever you cast me to."

"Azriel-" tears flowed freely from his eyes and you knew he meant every word he was saying. Every single word was being plucked from the core of his essence.

"I know that you're scared, and that you don't trust me. I'm scared too. But you're the only one I can face love with because I only want to feel it with you. At the end of the day I want it to be you and me, I want your early mornings and late nights, I want you on your good days and bad. I will never stop wanting you. I will never stop needing you filling my lungs like oxygen and giving me life."

Azriel dropped his forehead onto yours, and you felt your own cheeks dampening from your own tears at his words, "I love you, Y/N. I will always love you, even if you don't want me to, even if you decide to walk away from me I will not stop loving you. I am so thankful for you, and I know I haven't shown that, but if you give me one more chance, I will show you exactly the man you have made me into. I will give you the world you have always dreamed of. My soul is yours until you stop loving me. Please. Please."

There was a silence as you contemplated his words, maybe he did mean them, but it still didn't detract from the clear fact that he had knowingly abused your love of him, that he had knowingly taken advantage of you.

"No," Azriel physically winced as you removed yourself from his embrace, his forehead and fingers crying at the loss of your touch, his shadows retracted like they had been burned, withering away before his eyes.

"No?"

"No, Azriel," you wiped your cheeks free of your sadness which had turned into rage, "You can't come here on my hardest of days to confess your love for me after abusing me endlessly, after overlooking me our entire lives for others. I will not be your second, third, or last choice. If I'm not your first choice then I don't want to be a part of it at all. I loved you, Az. I loved you more than my lungs needed air to survive, I would have done anything for you. I did do everything for you. And this is how I'm repaid, by being consciously used to inflate your precious ego?"

"Y/N, no, it wasn't like that," he reached for you and you took a step back, the stars illuminated the sky in their richly elegant glow, and you could feel Selene wrap her heavenly arms around you and tell you to stick it to the man.

"But it was Azriel. It was like that. First it was Mor who you pined after for decades, I could deal with it then, I knew how much you wanted to be loved and cherished, and with Mor, you never came to me and complained, it was like you didn't even want her. But then Elain, you made me so small and insignificant, you had the gall to wish she was me, you knew I loved you and you chose to say that?"

"Y/N, please-"

"Stop fucking talking," you hissed, "I do not live to serve you, the purpose of my life is not to be your maid and mother and nurse so you don't have to lift a finger. I am not your therapist or path to live out your pathetic picket fence dream. I am Y/N, I was your best friend, I would have given you everything and I did even when you gave me nothing and I am done. I am done being the thing you can throw aside and pick up when you want to feel good about yourself. I'm done."

Your body felt ten times lighter, like you had just off loaded all of the rage that had been stacked within your mind and soul directly to the person who deserved to know just how vile they had been to you.

"I never want to talk to you again. I'm not sorry, the only one to blame for everything falling apart is you and your whimsical other-worldly dreams. Grovel your heart out, Az, you're never going to know about my life from here on out. I forbid it."

And then you left, you had left Azriel stood on that rock looking the most broken you had ever seen him, even his shadows had fully retreated into his body, wounded by your words and ashamed of their master. They had just lost their favourite thing in the world.

He had continued to try and get your attention in the weeks that followed, appearing on the streets and trying to speak to you to which you wholly ignored, he had showed up at Rita's and tried corner you, begging you to just listen, but you looked right through him.

Rhys had agreed to give you a different position, one that would mean less opportunity to bump into Azriel. You had become an emissary to the Night Court, Rhys' most trusted one at that, and you travelled Prythian and kept bonds alive and strong between the courts.

The Inner Circle were mostly just polite to Azriel, they respected your decision, some even admired it, and Azriel stood and watched as Elain accepted the bond with Lucien, feeling foolish for ever believing that he was deserving of such a sacred thing.

Every time you had returned home, Azriel would have all manners of gifts delivered, from pastries to fine jewellery and dresses . It had gotten so out of hand that you had to scream into Rhys' mind to get his brother to stop. You had kept your word, you didn't speak to him even when you did see him.

And soon enough he stopped, he didn't linger in the streets or on the bank of the Sidra, his shadows no longer followed you, no more gifts arrived at your home that was bursting with new wonder. Azriel had finally realised that no amount of pleading words or pretty things would bring you back to him. You were gone.

The hope that had filled his heart, that had broken the shadow shrouding his soul, when Rhys had announced that you were joining them for dinner that evening, was enough to bring some happiness to him. Azriel had been a ghost of himself, wallowing in self pity and loathing, completing his missions to a far more gruesome degree before returning home and tending to his own wounds. No one was there to help him anymore.

You were ethereal, you had stepped through the door with a happiness he hadn't seen in your in decades, your skin was glowing and your eyes were bursting with happiness. You were dressed in a ornately stunning forest green dress, one that he had never seen before, and you sat in your usual seat, that one that had laid empty for thirteen months wedged between Feyre and Nesta's chairs, the one they glanced at longingly each day.

Yet again, you avoided Azriel, but not obviously in a sense, you just negated to recognise his presence entirely. The only thing you did recognise were his shadows that pecked your wrists, and he willed you to look at him, instead, you only smiled at the shadows and that was enough to make them feel validated and still loved by you.

Rhys had asked how you'd been and you didn't relent on sharing your tales from your travels across the continent, from the libraries in the Day Court that Helion had given you access to, to learning the healing powers from the top healers in Dawn, you were enriched with knowledge and you were loving every moment.

"I do have some news," you spoke and if Azriel hadn't been listening to your stories, which he certainly was because it made him feel like a part of your life again, he was definitely listening to you now.

Azriel noticed the blush creeping up your cheeks and the bashful look in your eye, he watched your chest rise and fall shakily as you tried to form the words to tell them what you needed to. Azriel knew that look, because that's how you used to look when you were thinking about him.

"I found my mate," you had admitted, and your eyes found him for the first time in over a year, they held sympathy within them, and he felt all of the air rush from his lungs.

Your look only lasted a couple of seconds before Rhys wrapped you up in his arms, laughing joyfully at the news as the rest of the room, even Elain and Lucien, stood to congratulate you, everyone but him.

"Do we know him?" Feyre asked, her blue-grey eyes brimming with happy tears, all they wanted was to you to find your happiness, in whatever way that would be gifted to you.

You nodded, a love-sick smile on your face, "You do, we've already accepted the bond, and I know you may not approve but I need you to, for me? He's coming tonight, I want you all to meet him."

Rhys kissed your forehead and Azriel felt the fire rage within his chest, he'd give anything to have your skin under his lips again, "Of course," the door sounded and Azriel felt as though he was in a fever dream.

You had a mate. His Y/N had found her mate.

You had inhaled deeply and squeezed Feyre's hands in your own before you left the room, the muffled muttering of your voice conversing with your mate sounding to Azriel's left. He knew they were glancing at him, but they didn't say a word, and he didn't meet their gazes, he didn't look up until your scent mixed with another's entered the room. The perfect harmony of lavender and pine, of spiced oranges and honey.

"I believe you all know Eris," he heart dropped to his stomach and Azriel felt the room spin as he looked toward you, toward Eris Vanserra, High Lord of the Autumn Court, who gently laid his hand on your hip and pressed his lips to your temple.

Eris had become an ally after overthrowing Beron, Mor had forgiven him for his past transgressions, Rhys had even considered him a friend. Eris Vanserra was your mate.

The room audibly gasped and rushed to you both, hugging and congratulating you, so unbelievably happy that you had found your person, "The moment I saw her in my court I knew it was her. It snapped for me before she realised it, but I couldn't have anyone else whilst knowing that this beautiful creature was out there fated to be mine," his eyes were full of love, unblemished untainted pure love, and yours twinkled in reply as you unveiled the large sapphire on your ring finger, "Y/N is set to become my High Lady. I promise you all that I will cherish her every moment of every day. I am so irrevocably in love with her and I just know that our souls will find one another in every universe we may wander into. She's my everything and I will always choose her. Always."

Azriel watched you, doing his best to simmer down the fire raging within his heart, he looked at your bright smile and sparkling eyes, he roamed your glowing skin and inhaled your mated scent, and then his gaze fell on the barely there swell of your stomach and he decided in that moment that you were divine and untouchable, and that he would finally let you go if it meant that you'd be happy and breathe the life that you were meant to own.

A life full of the love that no one deserved more than you.

Authors Note

I think I like this version better..

@saltedcoffeescotch @fxckmiup

[lukasdoodles]

Sometimes i wonder if anyone remembers my old zombie apocalypse au that i havent written for since 2020 lol--

ANYWAY i think abt it all the time and so decided to redesign some of the main characters with their casual wear. There's a big story and info with it but idk if i'll ever write it out or whatever. If you wanna know more then feel free to shoot me an ask and I may just ramble abt it hehe

Anyway design notes below!

Starting with Olivia, she's an engineer and medic, so she has alternate outfits for those jobs, but for her casual look she prefers to cover up (make it harder for the zombies to bite through). I still wanted to make her outfit resemble her canon design, so i stuck with the red shirt/white sleeves, and kept her beanie of course. She's cut her hair as well, but keeps some dangly strands in the front so she can twirl them as she gets anxious.

Axel's casual design also takes a lot of inspiration from his canon design, he's a scout and engineer alongside Olivia, doing most of the heavy lifting and helping with documentation. I felt like the plaid overshirt fit him better than his canon design, don't have much info for him past that lol

Aiden's design is supposed to be more military-ish, as in the story he takes on the role of a leader for the cast. There's more lore behind that, but he's always prepared for the worst. His leather jacket is his dad's, so is his gun and knife (not pictured). Aiden is strong and cold, he doesn't want to get attached to people who might die or betray him. Thankfully, that hasn't happened. Yet.

Lukas's design is more casual and laid back. He occasionally scouts for the group, but his big role is being a mediator and organizer. He takes on a secondary leader role, helping Aiden with the hard decisions more than anything. Aiden keeps telling him to cut his hair too- but Lukas likes the mullet. He'll keep liking it until a zombie yanks on it, at the least.

Radar was a doctor- a pharmacist- a scientist? The others aren't sure. He showed up at their camp with a car full of supplies, wearing a doctor's coat and sporting a worn nametag. He won't tell them what he used to do, but he keeps the stained coat in hopes it might save him one day. He's also got hearing aids in this au he's hoh. That comes into play eventually hehe

Jesse is the main character out of the group of Mc's. He's...fine.

[mistymisfit]

So long, Marianne IV

Summary: Reader is a spy working undercover in Gotham when she meets Jason Todd, who despite her better judgement she forms a very close friendship with. This story follows their escape from Arkham asylum, their fall out and the times they run into each other as they get older.

Warnings: mentions of sex (but nothing smutty happens), mentions of past torture and sa!!, also one mention of Jason pushing reader's hair back but that's all that's said, no texture or anything specified.

Word Count: 4,1K

a/n: told myself i'd stop posting this series on tumblr and keep it only on ao3 but whatever, i'm having writer's block so idc

Read on ao3

Masterlist - Mobile masterlist

Your first thought is "what are we even doing anymore?" It's great to have him back in your life, but what the fuck is going on? Ever since you worked things out with him after what happened in Gotham, you started to sneak and meet him in secret. First, it was random hotels until he bought a few safe houses in the city. You never went to the same place twice. The safe houses would always switch after a while, he'd sell them and replace them. Out of the current ones, there was one of them uptown, then the other was downtown, and the third one was near the harbors.

You've been doing this for months, secretly meeting him in the dead of night every once in a while, and it'd always end up the same way. You see him, you get overwhelmed with how much you missed him and cry, then he'd wipe your tears off, and you'd sleep with him and leave. Frankly, you were growing a bit tired of it. He wasn't honest to you most of the time, wouldn't even tell you what he did when he was not with you. It didn't matter how great he was, it was exhausting being pushed away this much.

The first time you met him like this you cried, telling him all about how sorry you were for yelling at him like that, for saying all those things to him and leaving so cruelly. And he'd say he was sorry about locking you up and that he was a jerk- you agreed on that. To be fair, you were both wrong; you put yourself in danger going to Gotham that day, but it didn't give him the right to behave like that.

"Let go of me!" You had screamed when he picked you up, carrying you over his shoulder. "I swear to God, Ja-"

He cuts you off with a grunt before you can say his name. You trashed and kicked, but it was no match against his strength. Using your powers was out of the question, freezing him would only make it harder to escape his grasp. In between you cursing and yelling at him, he managed to walk to the military car so he could throw you into the backseat.

"Is this your fucking plan?" You were yelling as he opened the door "Have you lost your mind? You are giving him exactly what he wanted!"

"Shut the fuck up," He whispered angrily, putting a gloved hand over your mouth and hovering over you as you laid on your back. You looked around to see his men on the front seats quickly averting their gaze from you two. Of course, it was all about questioning his authority in front of them, it was fragile like that. "I don't want you to get hurt, so they're going to take you somewhere safe"

You took his hand off your face before saying "And I thought you were making decisions for yourself. Can't you see you're still his puppet? Just stop-"

"Enough, you are leaving. Now" You watched as one of his hands searched something in his pockets, handcuffs. It almost made you want to roll your eyes.

"Ja- Wait, what are you- stop it" You kicked him, trying to get out of his grasp "you're a fucking idiot, you're so brainwashed you can't see you're playing right into his trap"

"Quit it"

"Quit it? Let go of me!" You shrieked as he managed to bound your wrists behind your back. Then the anger got to you and you lowered your voice before you could say the meaner things you could come up with "You never left Arkham, huh? Figured I forgot a part of you there, left your humanity behind"

"Yeah, I'm a real monster sweetheart" He scoffs, and even over the modulated voice, you can tell the hurt in his voice, how much your words were affecting him. It made you feel bad for a second until you remembered how he was treating you.

"Clearly, you're not the person I thought you were." That's the last thing you say to him before he knocks his helmet against your head, rendering you unconscious so you wouldn't escape and ruin his plans.

You woke up with a killer headache and no idea how long you've been out or where you were. What you do know is that you're laying down on a mattress on the floor, no longer handcuffed and with an ice pack on your forehead right were Jason hit you. As you gradually regained consciousness, you started to check your whereabouts before you could move again. The room was dark, had no windows, and looking at the walls, you realized you were at some old, run down abandoned place. Panic quickly washed over you as you checked the state of your clothing; nothing was wrong with it, and you left out a sigh of relief.

You could hear voices outside, not outside the door but a bit further away. Moving as silently as you could, you walked towards the voices, going down a set of stairs and hiding behind a pile of wooden boxes as you tuned into the conversation a few meters away from you. It seemed to be some sort of weapon exchange, as most of you could make out of what they were saying was about either guns or ammo. You could only see the backs of some of Jason's men and not who they were talking to, but you recognized that voice as soon as you heard it. You took a step back, unknowingly knocking over some things and not being able to react and freeze them on time due to the shock. You'd drawn their attention to you now; neither Jason's nor Harley's goons were as fast as her to react.

"You!" She exclaimed in that high-pitched voice of hers, your heart felt heavy in your chest as it felt tighter and tighter and harder to get the air in and out of your lungs. You could feel the acid traveling from your stomach to your mouth and had to swallow down the need to puke."All grownup, Arkham's little princess!"

She kept talking as she walked closer to you, you shook your head saying no, unable to get any word out of pure fear; it had been years since you had felt that helpless. "Ah, you always healed so fast, not a scar on your pretty face, besides you know...that" Her cold fingers traced the tiny scar on the apple of your right cheek before you weakly pushed her hand off.

Your fingers went to your cheekbone, covering over the area you healed all those years ago, Jason didn't know about it. He didn't need to know about the acid burn scar you would have on your face had it not been for your powers.

"You used to be my cutesy dress up doll!"She laughed, grabbing a strand of your hair and twirling it "Remember when you wore my outfits? You looked so adorable!"

Then you remembered you were no longer tied up or keeping a cover or that you haven't been Marianne for a while. So with any and all the strength you could find, you raised your fist and delivered a swift and highly trained blow to her face. The silence that followed was deafening; the militia men were well instructed and had orders not to let anything happen to you, so they were ready to stop the situation from escalating. Stopping Harley's company from getting involved. She spat out blood and smiled, her twisted smile made your stomach turn once more. But you were free, or at least freer, so you grabbed one of her ponytails and smashed her head to the concrete wall. No longer putting up with the torture she put you through.

"What's wrong?" She teased, laughing through it "Didn't cha' miss me too? Cause I sure did! How much fun was it when I nailed your hand to-"

You let go of her hair only to push her away, making her stumble a few steps from you "Shut up, shut the fuck up!"

Then it's her laugh, that wicked, overly exaggerated high laugh that made you launch yourself again at her to fight her before you're stopped, dragged back by someone. You look up to see his expressionless helmet. He's been here this whole time? Didn't matter as you immediately started wriggling, trying to get out of his hold.

"Heal her" He ordered you, you jerk your arm out of his hand and take a few steps back, almost tripping. What? You looked up at him with eyes brimmed with tears begging to be shed and scared at how much he reminded you of him at that moment. It was like you went straight back to your captors, forcing you to heal and slow down his disease.

"No." your voice came out so low and shaky that you almost cringed at yourself.

"Stop causing me so much trouble and fix her face"

"You will not speak to me like that"

"I'll speak however I want, now do as you're told" He grabbed your face harshly; he didn't like the look in your eyes at all, or the fact that he successfully scared you into doing something you didn't want to. A whine escaped your lips as he gripped your jaw tighter, and only eased up once your eyes lit up. He could already feel the guilt eating him up, but his mind was dead set on carrying on with his revenge.

"Harley get you and your people the fuck outta here" He orders, before giving his men the same command. To leave you two alone.

"Gladly," She scoffs, holding her no longer broken nose "it was good to see ya' again"

"You're working with her?" you recriminated, shoving him and getting out of his grip once she left

"She works for me."

"Don't you dare touch me," you stepped back, raising your arms defensively when he tried to reach out for you "you heard her, you know what she did-"

"I'm using her, it's part of a plan"

"Did this big plan of yours really need her?" You sighed, wiping the tears that fell down your face; again, you found yourself crying over the same thing. Something you thought you had pushed down years ago. His silence gave you all the answers you needed

"Fine, I'm leaving"

"Wait a-" His hand caught your wrist.

"Let go of me," You struggled out of his hold "I don't even know who the fuck you are anymore. Working with her, all of them, you really are just one of the people you used to chase"

He opened his mouth to say something, not that you would know under the mask, but stopped when you added one last thing before you left. "You're just like him, and killing Batman won't fix the shell of a man you are"

Jason regretted what he did, his revenge plan didn't seem as important when he broke down after being unable to kill Bruce. He had him, but he didn't manage to pull it off. He lamented it especially when he needed you so badly to tell him it'd be okay and he wasn't a failure but you wouldn't, and now he'd probably lost that comfort forever due to his own doing.

He thought very differently. From his point of view, he was coming to you whenever he needed a decent sleep. It seemed this was the only way he could get at least an hour of useful rest, he thought fucking you was a way of making you hate him less. Maybe if he made you feel good, then you'd let him get close. It was his very fucked up way of saying he was sorry. This was the routine until tonight when he showed up incredibly injured, talking about some black mask character-- whoever that was. He had broken a few ribs and his nose; his body was poorly stitched in multiple places, and you were sure he had more wounds than those he admitted. It was a miracle he managed to leave Gotham to see you. Despite his insistence on being okay and that he was not in pain, you got to healing him.

"You have-"He whispers, wiping the blood off your nose.

"Oh it happens sometimes," You brush it off, taking the tissue from him. "do you feel better?"

"Mhm, thanks" He nods, cupping the back of your head with his hand and pushing you into a kiss.

"Wait, you should rest" You sighed "I haven't healed you completely "

"I know-" He smirks, kissing you again.

"Jay, I don't want to" You put your hand on his chest, trying to get some distance.

He sighs getting away from you and sitting as far as he could on the couch. Even if he was pissing you off, you've grown to appreciate seeing him in casual clothes. Right now, he was wearing a (way too tight) black shirt, his cargo pants as well as his boots were also black. He'd lost the leather jacket the second he walked through the door of the safe house, the safe house he'd bought to be able to meet you. You knew that with Jason you had to take what you could get, so you cherished seeing him dress like a normal person for the actual weather and not being covered from head to toe. You sigh back, rolling your eyes, and crawling to his side.

"Can't we just talk?" You whisper, tracing circles on his chest and hoping he wouldn't just get up and leave.

"Talk? " He chuckles in disbelief "What do you want to talk about?"

"I don't know, anything" You shrug, but a smile creeps up your lips when he turns to see you.

"How was your day at work?" He teases, knowing you wouldn't tell him about that.

"Ugh," You complain, but when you try to get away from him he is fast to grab you and pull you flush to his chest "Jason, is this all that you want from me?"

"What do you mean?" He lets go of you enough so you can put your arms on him to prop yourself up to look him in the eye.

"Sex, Jay" You sigh exasperated "Do you visit me just 'cause you want to get laid?"

He's taken aback by your question; you wanted more from him? Also, is that what you think of him? And on your side, you can't decipher his expression. Sometimes you miss being 16 and knowing exactly what went through his mind. He used to be so easy to read, now it's like he's purposely closing off any and all information he didn't want to give to you willingly. You had your suspicions that he'd come see you just because it was easier for him than letting some random girl see his scars, you even doubted he went out at all for the very same reason. You figured maybe it was easier to let his guard down with you since you had already seen the worst of him and been through the same. Maybe it was just convenient that he was still in touch with his high school sweetheart.

He shakes his head no, regretting giving you that impression. His cheeks blushed thinking he was to blame for it, remembering how he broke into your apartment that night. He intended to apologize, in between his new activity as Red Hood, he'd found the time to search for you in Bludhaven like he was originally meant to before you found him first. He stood on the roof of a building in front of yours for weeks before he actually tried to contact you, going over and over again if you'd even want to know anything from him. Eventually, he grew a pair, missing you far outweighed the shame he felt.

"Shit," You cursed when you saw him standing on your apartment "you can't be here"

He was disappointed by your reaction, yet he knew he should be grateful you weren't greeting him with a punch to his face. He opened his mouth to speak, but you immediately signaled him to stop. You looked around for a pen and paper and wrote down: meet me at the Harborview plaza 3 streets down. I'll get a room and leave the window open for you.

He agreed with a silent nod and left through your window, he made his way to where you told him to meet you. Jason knew he was in no position to question you and ask why wouldn't you want him in your apartment. He clearly knew where you lived, so keeping that a secret wasn't an issue. He expected yelling, cursing; Jason knew you never held back any words when mad at him. While overthinking your skittish behavior, he finally sees you open the window on a seventh floor. Of course, you couldn't have made it easy and asked for a room on the first floor, but then again he was the one taking you to the top of Gotham's skyscrapers so you could marvel at the view when you were 16.

"You shouldn't have gone there, we don't know if they're listening" You explained as soon as he came in through the window.

"I-uh,sorry" He's had months to think about what to say to you, but now that you're in front of him he's at a loss for words. No speech he had prepared came to his aid. "I didn't think about that"

He reaches for his bike helmet, undoing the buckle under his chin so he could drop it and see you. Or mainly so you could see him, maybe it was selfish of him, but he wanted someone to see him, look him in the eye and not be scared of him. Jason wanted to know if he could still count on you for that.

"I'm so sorry," You started to sniff as soon as you saw his face, wiping the tears with the sleeves of your sweater "I never should've said those things to you"

"No, I'm sorry"He finally took a step closer to you, pulling you in for a hug "I'd never forgive me if I were you"

"I don't think you're like him at all, I'm sorry I told you that" Your cries turned into sobbing, and suddenly you couldn't hold back any emotion anymore as you set the waterfalls of your eyes free. It was like a dam broke when you saw him, and everything you've been pushing down was now out in the open and you couldn't control it. He let you cry into his chest, wrapping his arms around you and rubbing your back to comfort you. After a while, when the sobbing didn't seem to calm down, he guided you to sit on the bed. Wiping the tears from your face with his thumbs. Kneeling down in front of you, he told you to take deep breaths, helping you relax.

"Baby," he whispered, kissing your knee over the jeans you wore "I keep fucking everything up with you, can you forgive me?"

You nodded, still tearing up and opening up your arms, so he'd come up and hug you. He does so, pushing your back to the bed and laying on top of you in the process. You're about to say you're sorry again when he kisses you. He stops, giving you a second to tell him to fuck off and looking for a response in your eyes. Lucky for him, you understood his silent question and nodded as your fingers ran through the back of his hair, and he lowered himself once more to kiss you saying, "I'm sorry, I'll never do that again to you"

So with Jason finding himself sleeping and waking up with more energy, your little rendezvous started. He's only realizing now that he has been giving you a wrong impression all this time. He sighs before, in a rare flash of vulnerability, he tells you what he thinks.

"I've been trying to make it up to you," his eyes dart to the floor, he's got every right to still be embarrassed about kidnapping you and what he made you do "make you hate me less"

The closest he's been to opening up like this was that one time when he had you wrapped under his arms, your skin touching his, and the question slipped from his overworked mind through his lips: "Are you scared of me?" You shook your head no, pressing a kiss to his scarred chest as you drifted off asleep. "No, no I'm not. We're okay," you had mumbled in response.

"I don't hate you, Jay" Music to his ears, he even contemplates asking you to say it again

"But you cry every time we meet"

"I-" You don't want to admit he has a great point, besides now that you think about it, this is the first time you ever said no to him "I have my reasons, besides you cry too, does that mean you hate me?"

"No" He defends himself, damn it, he thought he was hiding it well "I could never hate you, I love you no what ifs"

You smiled sweetly; that was what you said to him once. Many many years ago, when he was still Robin, it felt you were both completely different people from that distant memory where you told him "I love no what ifs, Jay". He had laughed then, now you doubted he would ever be that joyful again.

"Come on, you used to tell me everything," You encourage him "tell me something, anything"

"Anything?" He pushes your hair back, and you nod eagerly "You don't look like a Marianne, or a Penny, or any of your other aliases"

"Really?" You raise an eyebrow in fake disbelief, you never felt those names suited you anyways"Does my real name fit me better?"

"Yes," He whispers with his hand cupping your cheek. Even if your situation is not the best or what he'd hoped for when you first met, he's still glad to have you around. Sometimes, he remembers all the dreams and plans he had and holds back from scoffing when he recalls how he already made his world spin around you before you even kissed.

"You know," Now your hand caresses his scarred cheek "my offer still stands, I can try to get rid of your scar if you want to"

He blinks, not knowing how to take your words. Did it bother you? Did it make you like him less? He takes your hand off his face, and with that, he withdraws the hand in yours. Your expressions turns sadder, he can tell, so instead, he opts to deflect the conversation as he usually does.

"Can I ask you something?" He changes the subject, and you nod, allowing him to do so even if it's exhausting at this point "Would you ever want to get out?"

"Jay-" you sigh, knowing where this conversation is headed. You couldn't leave with him, no matter how badly you wanted to. "You know I can't"

"I asked if you wanted, not if you could" He insists, secretly hoping you give him the answer he expects. Give him a sign of how important he is to you, he'd drop his Red Hood persona in a second if you asked. He's learned his lesson after being the knight, and he's been trying to redeem himself by taking out the bad guys in Gotham instead of working with them.

"Of course I want to but-"

"We could find a way out, I-" he doubts but decides to push through "want more than this"

"Hm, you want me to be your real girlfriend?" you hum, your expression softening and your shoulders relaxing as you played with his hair, him leaning into your touch which he finally learned to enjoy. "You'll finally take me out on a real date?"

"Yes, everything," He closed his eyes, relaxing even more. His tone also weakened, becoming almost a pathetic whimper as he made promises to you "whatever you want"

"You'll be honest with me?" You question, your free hand going to the other side of his face, making him look at you.

"Yes, I promise" He replies, holding your gaze "We'll work something out"

"Okay, I'll get you as much information as I can." You nodded, maybe you could hold onto the hope that he'd put his brain and abilities to good use and he could find the way out that you couldn't. Maybe two heads can think better than one alone.

[clubdionysus]

[BAD DECISION #50] Jeon Jungkook... Again

warnings: a lil pda, exhibitionism, public escapades, no grace! no decorum! fingering, a lil titty worship, oral (m), cowgirl (yeehaw!), squirting, creampie, yum <3

notes: wow i wonder what song came out the week this chapter of bd was first published lmao

wc: 9K

bd total wc: 540k (ongoing)

AO3 | MASTERLIST | MINORS DNI

From across the table, Jeongguk cocks a brow. Hair devastatingly dishevelled, his lopsided grin is an indication not only of the alcohol in his system, but also of the way he kind of just feels drunk around you all the time. He could be as sober as a cold winter's morning, stark and frigid, and yet one look at you, one laugh escaping from your lips, one intrusion of your perfume upon his senses, and he'd go loopy.

This is nothing new. Nothing unprecedented.

But it's also never been so abundantly unashamed in front of your friends.

The slightly tempestuous look in his pretty features is all your fault - but it's your words causing it this time.

Embroiled with a conversation amongst friends, you're all a little loose-lipped. Saying things you'd maybe be a little shyer admitting sober. The topic of discussion is sex, and more specifically, how marriage changes it.

"Oh yeah?" He challenges you. "What makes you so sure you'd never lose the spark with Mr. Hypothetical Disco Ball?"

Jimin laughs at this. "Mr. Hypothetical-" He cuts himself off. Shakes his head. Is still smiling. "Yeah, alright, Jeongguk."

Jeongguk throws him a quick glance, but doesn't bite. Just grins. Turns his attention back to you. "Well?"

"Well, I just wouldn't," you shrug. "Sexual compatibility is like, one of the most important things in a relationship."

The candles flickering in the centre of the table illuminate you in the prettiest of lights, Jeongguk thinks. Now well past everyone's bedtimes, Seoyeon and Yoongi have retired to bed (which is what sparked the entire conversation in the first place). Dokyeom and Seobi weren't far behind, and Nabi's been off chatting with a slightly forlorn-looking Hayun. Part of you feels bad for chewing her out like you did, that the lasting memory of one of her best friends' weddings will be a confrontation with you, but your tolerance has been waning thin. It was only a matter of time until you snapped - and in all honesty, you don't think you were that bad.

Jeongguk hasn't even so much as looked in her direction for the entire evening. You wonder if it comes naturally, or if he's deliberately restraining himself, then decide it's better that you don't know.

Music hums through a small Bluetooth speaker, everyone serving the reception having gone home. A nightwatchman roams occasionally, not disturbing you.

Your less-than-subtle exchange on the dancefloor a little earlier was interrupted by Jimin chaotically rounding up the boys for a sing-along rendition of some song you'd never heard before but that they all knew by heart. A testament to their friendship. A staple in their lives before you met any of them. A show of their friendships. The kind that endure.

Watching on with a fond smile, you'd toyed with the bird around your neck.

Coming to stand beside you, Nabi was smiling, too. Said, "I know this is probably the last thing you want to hear, but she's not all bad. This has just been... hard for her."

And you don't doubt that this all has been hard for Hayun. She'd had a life up in Seoul that she'd given up when she ended it with her boyfriend. Came back to the city for her home comforts only to find a stranger sleeping in the bed that used to be hers. Suddenly didn't know her place and decided you were public enemy number one for stealing it from her.

Or at least, that's how you rationalise it in your head.

"You tell her to send me that text?" You asked a little nonchalantly. "I don't mind. I just want to know."

Nabi was silent for a moment. Sighed. "Thought it might help ease things a little."

Glancing across to her, you offered a small smile. "Was sweet of you to try." You looked back to the boys. Shrugged your shoulders. "It's hard to believe she wants things to be amicable when she does things like that at the dinner table."

Though you were looking ahead, you noticed Nabi nodding. "I'll speak to her."

"Don't worry," you said softly. "It's not the time, nor the place. I can handle her being shitty with me - I just don't want it to interfere with... well, whatever Gguk and I have going on."

"Seobi says you're together."

Denying it would have caused more harm than good by that point.

So you nodded.

"Yeah," you smiled, but it was weak. You didn't want it to seem like you were bragging, especially when it's not even technically accurate. "Yeah. We're together."

Nabi smiled then, too.

"Don't tell her I said this," she started, needing to mention no names. There's no chance in hell you'd tell Hayun anything. "But I'm glad you guys have worked things out. It's the happiest I've seen Jeongguk in a long time."

"Really?" You had chirped. You aren't sure what sparked the surprise - Jeongguk's happiness being out of character or that Nabi was glad you'd worked it out.

"Mhmm," she nodded, equally surprised you don't seem aware of this. That may be why you and Jeongguk are so well-suited - you're both clueless. It's sweet, she thought, even if a bit naive. "He doesn't realise how much of a mood-maker he is, either. When he's happy, the rest of them are too. Things have been really nice, lately."

There was no ulterior motive for Nabi's admittance. No attempt for it to mean anything more than exactly what she said.

Reaching out, she squeezed your arm. "I'll handle Yun. Don't let it ruin your night."

And so she's doing exactly that as the rest of you sit around a single table, half-finished bottles of wine topping up your glasses, or sometimes just being chugged straight from. It's making your life a lot easier, so you appreciate Nabi choosing to speak with Hayun now, but you do also fear a bit of an emotional reaction. You don't want to end the evening with a fight.

However, it's Jeongguk challenging you, now - and oh, how you adore it.

"There's more to a relationship than sex," he says. There's a heat to the way he says that word. Sex . It's sordid, in a way. Something you do. Do together. Alone. In the confines of his room, or yours. Beneath pouring showers, in cheap motel rooms. Nowhere too promiscuous, but it's never too late to change that.

It's a funny thing to think about, sex. How taboo it is, yet how fundamental it is to your lives. Everyone at the table enjoys it, in their own way. Has their own ideals. Preferences. Potentially the most personal of all secrets is how we like to be fucked.

The man opposite you knows all your secrets. Could recite, word for word, an idiot's guide to making you wet. Step one: be Jeongguk. Step two: tits. Step three: call you pretty. Or a slut. Or a pretty slut. Preferably a pretty slut, actually.

Of course, he could write sonnets about it too. Verses that would make angels weep, and the heavens open. Biblical, almost, is the way he adores his pursuits of sin with you. Can't comprehend that is a sin, because nothing feels more heavenly than being inside you. Fucking you. Filling you.

The way he shifts in his position slightly lets you know he's thinking about it. Is excited about the prospect of it.

And yet he's looking at you with eyes that are full of stars, twinkling in delight as they're laughing at you; at your embarrassment for all the times they've witnessed you come undone for him. Teasing, but not mocking. Never mocking.

He's not looking at you like he knows how you like to be fucked.

He's looking at you like he knows how you like to be loved.

"Maybe," you shrug, pushing such silly thoughts away from yourself. "And it's not top of everyone's priority list - but it's pretty high up on mine."

Danbi hums in agreement. "Nothing beats make-up sex."

"You wanna fight real quick?" Taehyung jokes, making her roll her eyes - but the way she looks at him would indicate that a fight is not needed for him to get what he wants. It earns a little laughter from the entire table, and segues the conversation onto some other nonsense about arguments, and how they're important in a relationship, too.

Wrapped up in conversation, you don't notice Jimin reaching for the cigar tin that had been tossed towards the centre of the table. He pops it open, the discussion around him drowning out the sound as he checks how many are left of Yoongi's stash.

Sitting beside him, Jeongguk glances down at the open tin, too. Leans in his chair a little and says something to Jimin you can't hear, but as they both get to their feet, you assume they're going for a smoke. Is confirmed when Jeongguk looks to you, and brings his fingers to his lips, imitating the gesture of taking a toke. Knocks his head to the side, eyes wide and warm, offering you the chance to join.

Shaking your head, you smile. Silently say that it's okay. You'll stay put.

He nods. Purses his lips into a pretty pout and presses a kiss into the air. There's a glimmer of light reflecting from his lips ring, and it catches the attention of Danbi, who watches the pair of you with a smile. When you blow a subtle kiss back, she rolls her eyes. Waits until Jeongguk has left, and Taehyung is embroiled in conversation with Hoseok and Namjoon to quietly say, "You guys are so cute, it makes me sick."

"Hm?" You hum with a smug little grin, taking a sip of your wine. "Who?"

"Oh, give over," she laughs. "You and Mr Hayun's future husband."

Now this does make you laugh. "God, she really was insufferable earlier, wasn't she?"

"Insufferable, insane, take your pick," Danbi nods. "How are you feeling about it all?"

It's a simple question, you think. One that should have a simple answer, but it doesn't.

On the one hand, Hayun made her bed. She can't be throwing tantrums, demanding that she should sleep in yours just because she doesn't like the sheets she chose.

You know it's not that simple.

"A little guilty," you awkwardly admit, only to be met with a look of bewilderment from Danbi. Laughing, you gesture to indicate it's not how it sounds. "No, I just mean... She's clearly suffering at the moment, isn't she? Why else be that be delusional?"

"Some people just are."

"Yeah, but she doesn't strike me as the type," you shrug. "Like, I don't understand how she would have fit into a group of friends like this acting like that , you know? Gguk said once that she's threatened by me, 'cause I've stolen her 'place' - and I just don't understand how the place I'm in could have ever belonged to her. There's gotta be more to it."

Danbi isn't so sure. Thinks that perhaps Hayun has always been awful - but Jeongguk also once told you that just because you've only seen the bad doesn't mean there isn't any good.

Which is funny, 'cause as Jeongguk exhales ashy air from his lungs, back against a wall separating a garden from a seating area, cigar in hand, he's saying the exact opposite.

"Just never realised how bad it was," he admits. Shakes his head. Passes the cigar over to Jimin, 'cause it's the last of the lot. "And now B has to bear the brunt of it. Just isn't fair."

Jimin nods as he takes a toke. The end of the cigar glows as he does so. Takes him a second or so to reply.

"Take it you heard what she said to DB earlier?" Jimin asks, to which Jeongguk nods. "Seobi?"

It's Jeongguk who nods, now, to let him know that yes, it was Seobi who told him. Just a casual comment said in passing. The mention of you, and how pleased she is for him. Teasing of his bashful smile, and then, "Hayun was trying to wind her up earlier."

"Hm?" Jeongguk had hummed.

"Something about a pact, and a frozen cake," is all Seobi had followed it up with. "Anyway, your girl's got a good head on her shoulders - just thought you should know."

He isn't really sure what he thought he had been expecting - that Hayun would come through with her promise of a white flag? No. He didn't think that at all.

It was part of the reason he didn't encourage you to make peace. Knew she'd do something like this. Knows, because she used to do it to him, too. Fight with him, and make him feel as if he'd done something wrong. Would always apologise first, just so that she could use it for their next inevitable argument. Would question the integrity of his dedication to their friendship. Say shit like, 'you never apologise' , or 'I'm always the one trying to fix things.'

A few moons ago, you had fought with Jeongguk over Hayun, and her ability to walk all over him. He had told you that she was trying to make things right, and he'd believed it. Believed her . Just like he always had done.

Makes him queasy to think of it, now.

These days he sees it for what it actually was; years of manipulation foolishly understood to be genuine care. The things she 'fixed' were only ever broken by her in the first place, and Jeongguk suffered in silence for fear of tarnishing her reputation. He didn't want people to think she was a bad person, because he genuinely did care.

Did. Past tense. Doesn't give a shit anymore, and also doesn't have to worry about her reputation. She's tarnishing that by herself, alone. He doesn't care to polish it. Will let it rust, and fall into disrepair, and she'll only have herself to blame.

Like the cake baked in the haze of his infatuation, his fondness for her was left to go stale by Hayun. He'd thrown the cake out before he'd even met you. Jimin's orders. An indication that perhaps it shouldn't have just been the cake - should have been the girl, too.

"I've already told her to back off," Jeongguk divulges as Jimin passes him back the cigar. "She's hell-bent on... I don't even know what. She's just being a pain in my arse."

"Well, that's exactly it," Jimin supposes. "Pain in your arse, thorn in DB's side. She's causing you both issues. Conditioning you to associate DB with, I dunno, the feeling of being annoyed, or whatever. Psychology. I reckon Joon'll know the right terms."

"Think the right term is 'being a bitch'," Jeongguk smirks, but is scornful in his tone. It's rare for him to speak so bitterly, and especially about Hayun, but at times like this, it's justified.

"You're not wrong," Jimin laughs. Is rather pleased at the change in Jeongguk's tone. Once upon a time, he thought he'd never see the day.

Jimin has seen Jeongguk through it all. Knows he has a tendency to go a little loopy when he thinks he's in love.

Jeongguk's not been like that with you. Okay, yes, fine, he's done some obscure things and is a little bit of a seasoned fibber now, when it comes to the nature of your relationship - but it's all harmless. Aced his exams even despite his infatuation, which is a rarity. He's perfectly smart and absolutely capable of getting the best grades, but often he lets his heart take priority over his head.

Stern in how carefully you made sure he studied, Jimin knows your influence on him was good. Knows you've the potential to help push him in the right direction for many years to come. Hopes that it will come naturally, and not as a burden.

"If you want Hayun to treat you guys with respect, then you've gotta do it too," Jimin adds after a moment of soft contemplation.

A frown settles into Jeongguk's features, affronted by the suggestion he doesn't respect you. Of course he does.

"Watcha mean?" He asks, a little agitated in his tone.

"In the sense that you keep downplaying what you are," Jimin says kindly, knowing that he's struck a nerve. Wants to remedy the situation, but also knows if anyone can be honest with Jeongguk, then it's him. "Now, you know I love you both - but if I have to hear either one of you say 'oohh, we're just friends' one more time, I will skin you both alive."

Admittedly, this does make Jeongguk smirk a little. "I feel like that's an overreaction."

"I feel like it's an underreaction. Has been driving me mad for months," Jimin deadpans, but Jeongguk knows he's joking. "Look, just sit with her when we go back in. Show us all, whether you explicitly state it or not, that you want to be with her."

Jeongguk doesn't reply. Just takes a final toke on the cigar before stubbing it out against the wall.

"Gguk," Jimin says softly. "Nobody cares what you do, or where you sit. There are only two other people in that room who will care, and only one of them has an opinion that should mean anything to you. Do what you like - but Noah would always sit next to Allie. Always."

The table you're all sitting around is large and round, with a tablecloth worth more than the dress you're wearing covering the surface. It drapes over your knees and keeps you warm in the chill of night that's taken hold of the venue. You could, of course, put Jeongguk's blazer back on, but it's currently over the back of your chair.

Though it's easy to forget, when the surroundings are so beautiful, you're still technically outside. The pavilion walls offer no shielding from nature - and that includes the bugs flittering around in search of light.

Thankfully, given the time of year, there aren't that many, and one of the candles has the citronella scent that you know is supposed to keep them away.

There's one pest that you don't mind intruding on your personal space, though, and as he chooses to take the seat beside yours, you're quietly pleased.

Glancing across, you welcome him back. "Hey."

With an arm resting on the table, the other falling to your lap, Jeongguk leans across and presses an incredibly small kiss to your shoulder. It's intrinsically natural, as if he's been doing it for years. Knows he'll be doing it for years to come, so what difference does it make?

Though you don't verbalise a response, you feel a warmth bloom on your cheeks, and a pretty smile on your lips. There's a shyness to you. An inability to know how to act.

He's sitting so close to you that your chair may as well become a loveseat. The scent of cigar smoke sticks to him. It dawns on you all rather quickly how much you'd like to taste it. You think of his tongue, and how it so often strokes against yours. The pressure of his lips. His hands on your waist. Pretty whispers in your ears.

The hand of his that had fallen to your lap takes advantage of the split up the side of your dress. Slips beneath the material. Grips your thigh.

And still, he says nothing. Is listening into the conversation beside him. Laughs at all the right times. Adds adlibs to the anecdotes of his friends.

Yet his grip remains firm.

It's not until he hears you embroiled in conversation with Namjoon and Hoseok that his grip eases - only to then trail higher.

Jimin was right. Noah would always sit next to Allie.

But Jeongguk isn't Noah. He never had to strong-arm you into a date. It just sort of happened.

Just like the birds, and the revelations of fears and everything that came as a result of them - they just sort of happened.

The one thing that was always calculated was the way in which he would touch you. How it would benefit you. Serve your purpose. Help you.

In turn, yes, it would help him but it was never the primary principle. Maybe it's wrong for him to associate emotional intimacy so much with physical acts, but he's always been this way. Jimin's earlier critiques ring in Jeongguk's ears. Part of him fear he's about to take things too far - but fears are made to be faced with you.

He doesn't make it obvious as he husks. "What's the word, B?"

There's only one word it could be. It's reserved for one thing, and one thing only - and the way Jeongguk's hand is getting closer and closer to the warmth of your pussy, it would suggest that's exactly what he's after.

"Chess," you reply, a little breathless at the fact he's asking you that in this moment. You think if he were to ever sit down and play chess, he'd get a boner instantly. Associates it too closely with fucking you. "Gguk-"

He turns to you for a moment. Smiles. Says, "Don't let me distract you. Say the word, and I'll stop," then returns to his own conversation. Acts as if his thumb isn't stroking across the lace of your underwear. Acts as if he isn't teasing you beneath table, with all of your friends around.

You lean forward a little in your chair to protect yourself from any prying eyes. The tablecloth hides you away, but you're not an idiot. Jeongguk's hand is under the table. Sure it'll probably just look like it's on your lap, but you know it isn't.

He grips your thigh. Pulls your legs apart just a tiny bit. Just enough so that his index and middle finger can press against you.

It takes everything in you not to gasp.

Instead, you make a point to contribute to the conversation. "Yeah, but he's a little overrated, don't you think?"

Namjoon and Hoseok focus their full attention on you. Are shocked you would say such a thing.

You're shocked by the way Jeongguk begins to pulse the pressure of his fingers.

He's in his own conversation with Danbi. Is laughing. Sounds so pretty. You bet he looks it, too. God . The way he feels is divine. Takes everything in you not to react.

"I'm sorry?!" Hoseok shrieks.

"Yeah, sorry, gonna have to agree to disagree on that one," Namjoon says. "KAWS is an icon."

"But everything is so... samey," you argue. Truth be told, you like the novelty of his collections, and remember the first time Hoseok managed to snag one of his pieces. His sheer elation at owning some of his favourite artists' work is enough for you to like KAWS by association at the very least. You're just to say something that will get them talking - 'cause the docile roaming of Jeongguk's fingers is getting harder to ignore. "Hobes, have you told Namjoon about yours?"

A little bashful but desperately wanting to boast, Hoseok jumps at the chance - and just in time because you need to give Jeongguk a look.

Not a ' chess ' type look. Just a ' why the fuck are you the hottest man alive?' look.

"Hm?" he hums when he clocks you glancing over to him. "You good, B?"

He speaks loudly. Makes your conversation known. Not secret.

"Yeah," you say, and it's remarkable how controlled your voice is, given the fact he's now pushing your underwear to the side. It's just a thong. No hardship - though he'd rather you weren't wearing one at all. "All good. You?"

There's a little height to your pitch. Beneath his slacks, Jeongguk's cock throbs.

"Perfectly fine, baby."

"Baby?" you smirk at the public use of such a name. No one else is listening to your conversation - but they could be, and that's what makes it so erotic. That, and that fact he's playing with your pussy, but that's neither here nor there. Quietly, hiding the conversation now, you ask, "Why?"

All he does is shrug. Smiles. Pulls his hand from between your legs and is insatiably pleased to see a frown automatically appear in the form of a pretty little pout on your lips. He almost thinks you whine, but it's so cutely quiet it's hard to tell.

He glances across to the rest of the table, making sure no one is paying attention to you - then subtly brings his fingers to his lips. Anyone looking would think resting them in a contemplative pose. Wouldn't notice the small kiss against the side of his index finger, or how it hides his tongue swiping the taste of you off of it.

You say nothing. Swallow.

Eventually, he replies all rather nonchalantly.

"Said it's important," he reminds you. Clarifies, "That sex is important for longevity." From the corner of his eye, he can see Nabi and Hayun returning to the table. Boner killer. "You wanna head back to the rooms?"

You've spotted them, too. Know it's probably why he wants to leave.

But you shake your head.

"I never said chess," you shrug. Turn your focus away from him, and lean so that your elbows are on the table, obscuring anyone's view of your lap.

Taking the bait, Jeongguk also resumes his previous position. Smirks, and knocks his head to the side when he lowers his hand only to find your legs already spread for him. "Fair play, B. Checkmate."

Oh, it's serene hearing him declare you a winner as Hayun takes her seat. He pays her no attention as his middle finger slips straight beneath the lace, and sinks into your soaked hole. His depth is shallow, the positioning not ideal, but you know this isn't about an orgasm - and it makes you wanna whine.

Still, you glance back and whisper, "Don't make me cum."

He breathes out an airy laugh. Shakes his head with a smile so bright it could blind. "You think I'd give them the luxury of witnessing that?"

"Touche," you say, but cut yourself short as he gets a little deeper and closer to your sweet spot. You know if he gets it, you're in trouble. Still, you temper your reaction. Subdue it - but he can feel you clenching. He knows.

Taking a sip on your wine, you clock Hayun's eyes on you. Raise your brows. Smile, as you put your glass back down. Raise one of your hands in front of your mouth as you lean across to Jeongguk and whisper, "You ever do this with her?"

He turns to you. Is stern in his gaze. Pushes his index finger into you, too. Smirks as a soft groan catches in your throat, just for him to hear. "Never."

You nod. Smile. Are satisfied with his answer, and how he feels as his fingers begin to gently scissors inside you. The way you wanna moan for him is outrageous. Would do anything he asks of you right now.

"Good."

Jeongguk has done so much with you that he'd never dare of doing with anyone else. You've sparked something in him; started a fire that he doesn't think will ever burn out. It's almost like there's a star where his heart once was.

"What about you, DB?" Jimin calls across the table, getting you involved in his conversation. Hayun is sitting beside him, so you know that's exactly why he's doing it.

"Hm?" you hum for clarification, and Jeongguk doesn't even think about stopping what he's doing. Your chin rests in the palm of one of your hands, while the other goes to wrap around his wrist and give you a little bit of control - also makes it look like you're holding hands, but that's totally not what you want Hayun to think is happening.

He's gentle as strokes upwards. Moves only his fingers. Is as subtle as he can be.

"Playing would you rather," he explains. "Big honeymoon or big wedding?"

"Oh, honeymoon, for sure," you say. Look across to Jeongguk, and say, "You?"

His eyes are soft as he looks at you as if he isn't two knuckles deep inside you. "You said honeymoon?"

You nod.

He reciprocates.

"In that case," he faces Jimin again. Smiles. Brushes his thumb against your clit. "Honeymoon."

It's taking everything in you not to fucking fold.

You're so wet that you're pretty sure there must be indicators of your arousal on your dress, which mortifies you - but you need to leave. Need him alone.

"Gambit," you say beneath your breath, eyebrows knitting together as your body twists ever so slightly.

And he just fucking laughs. Admittedly, he does slow his fingers, which is ideal, then husks, "Gambit? Who the fuck taught you that?"

"Google," you reply, and he notices how breathless you seem to be. The eyes you're looking at him with are desperate. Repeat the chess term: "Gambit."

He nods. Pauses his movements completely. It's not 'chess', but he's understanding you need a breather.

"You wanna go, B?"

The way you nod - eyes all wide and pitiful, lips pouty and desperate for him - revokes any ability he has to be difficult.

"Okay, baby," he nods back. "Give me a couple of minutes, okay?"

Glancing down to his lap, you know exactly why he can't stand - and it's the exact same reason you hope you won't be able to stand properly come tomorrow morning. Slowly pulling his fingers from you, Jeongguk is careful. As hot as it was knowing he was inside you and nobody knew, the awareness of exactly what he was doing dawns on him. Would mortified if anyone realised. In fact, if they knew, he might just die.

His desire to work you up in front of other people has been a work in progress. Since that first time he teased you about fucking you right so that Jimin could learn pointers from him, it's grown and grown. There's something incredibly sordid about it. He doesn't even realise how fast his heart is beating. Thought he'd had control on the situation, but it was more like the situation had control on him.

Fingers wet, he keeps them on your thigh. Not really caring about your own mess, you put your hand over his. Intertwine your fingers. Are aware of how nasty and dirty it is - but it only makes you want him more.

You've both had a few too many drinks. Are both in the market to make some bad decisions.

And as you excuse yourselves from the table a couple of minutes later, Jeongguk's blazer over your shoulders, your arm wrapped around his waist, everyone knows exactly what's happening.

"Not on my bed!" Jimin calls after you both, as the rest of your friends joke and tease at your expense - as if they wouldn't do the same.

"Fuck off," Jeongguk yells right back, but is smiling as he does so. Presses a kiss to your hair. Whispers, "Ignore them."

"What?" you giggle. "Are we not gonna do it on his bed?"

"No, we're not," Jeongguk laughs right back. "Though now you mention it, when we're back home, we should probably rectify your lack of orgasms in his bedroom-"

"We are not fucking in his room."

" Sure ."

Truth be told, you'll fuck Jeongguk anywhere - especially when you're as desperate as you are now.

The pair of you haphazardly make your way back to the hanoks. There's not a second that goes by that isn't filled with laughter or mumbles of adoration. Occasionally, he'll pull you in for a kiss, and sometimes you'll do the same. It's all very sickening.

Above you, carefully planned by the happy couple for their big day, a full moon smiles down on you. Bathes you in her light. The skies are clear, stars abundant, yet none shine as brightly as the pair of you do.

When you reach your home for the night, Jeongguk wastes no time. Kicks off his shoes, and as you're getting rid of yours, he unhooks Hoseok's name from your door, and swaps it with his own.

"What?" he grins when you reprimand him. "It'll give him and Joon a chance to snuggle up."

"Jimin'll be a third wheel, again," you laugh pitifully.

"Maybe," Jeongguk nods, pulling around your waist to get you closer. Presses a teeny tiny kiss to your nose. "You have any idea how much I would have killed for the chance to snuggle up with you from the get-go? I'm doing them a favour."

"Oh, so you've always been obsessed?" You tease.

"Obsessed," he nods, and sinks down into a kiss. "Plus who knows - maybe Jimin will snuggle with them too. I hear polyamory is getting popular these days."

"Are you saying you wanna be poly?" you raise a brow, deliberately winding him up.

"Not a fuckin' chance," he grins. Keeps holding you tight as he guides you both to the room that now has both of your names on the door. He locks it as soon as you're inside, 'cause there's no way he isn't getting you naked tonight. "Never sharing. Too greedy." There's a tenderness to his hands as he cups our jaw. Pulls you in for a kiss, lips soft, tongue timid. As he pulls away, nose nudging again yours, he whispers, "I want to be with you, B. I don't care about the dates. Nothing will change between now and finishing them."

"If that's the case, there's no harm in waiting?" you toy with him a little, secretly in full agreement. You just like to wind him up a little too much for your own good.

"'Cause I don't wanna," he simply states. Pulls back a little and removes his touch from your skin. Hangs his head, chin to his chest. Shakes it. Looks at you once more, and you swear his eyes have never had such a gravitational pull to them before. You wanna drown in them; sink into his abyss. But then he frowns, and says, "I need to know that this what you want, 'cause if you turn around decide that you don't, I-"

The way he cuts himself off is painful.

"Gguk," you say, reaching for his hands. Pull him closer. "Hey?" you whisper, a hand on his cheek, aligning his gaze with yours. "I want you in any capacity you'll let me have you."

It's true. You want him as your lover, but you'll take him as your friend, if that's what he so desires. Feel honoured to know him. Think that perhaps he was put on this earth just for you.

"All of them," he whispers, nudging his nose against yours. There's a neediness to him now. Desperation. "Every capacity that exists. Every universe, every reincarnation, all of it. B, I want it all."

"You're right," you smile, pressing your lips up against his. "You are greedy."

"Told you so."

It's sweet, the way Jeongguk plonks himself down on one of the floor mattresses. Cute how he pouts, and reaches out for your hands. Adorable, even, when he gently pulls you onto his lap.

You're still in his blazer, so he pulls it open a little and dips his hand into the inside pocket. You'd noticed something in there earlier, but had just assumed it was a pen, or a lighter. It's his jacket after all, not yours.

Which is why you're so pleasantly surprised, all purry and pliant, when he pulls a tube of your liquid glitter from it.

"You wore less than normal today," he says. It isn't critical. Just an observation.

"Was worried it'd look weird in the photos," you admit. It was one of many reasons you chose to tone it down.

Watching with a fond smile as Jeongguk unscrews the cap, you say nothing. Just wait for him to hold the end of the wand by your face. Tilt your head ever so slightly so that he has access to your cheekbone.

"Would have looked pretty," he hums, as he begins to dab it against your skin. Smiles, when it begins to sparkle. Taps it out with his finger. Gets himself all glittery, too. Curls his finger and uses it to turn your chin and give him access to your other cheek. Repeats his steps. "The glitteriest girl."

Almost as if you're only just realising, you smile. "You really like the glitter, huh?"

The way Jeongguk nods, nibbling down on his bottom lip, looking at the glitter as he taps it out, has your heart beaming. "You know I do."

"Sometimes I forget," you smile a little cheekily, flirting with him for the sake of it.

Realigning your head, Jeongguk admires his handwork. Says, "Well, you shouldn't. I love it."

There's a silence between you both that is equal parts comfortable and terrifying. He could have just said he likes it. He chose to elevate the way he feels about your trivial little cosmetic choices. Deliberately, you think.

Are unaware that it was totally mindless. Uncalculated. Just a simple truth. He loves your glitter.

Nose nudging up against his, your body begins to move in a way that gets Jeongguk a little breathless. Glitter discarded to the side, his hands take command of your waist. Lets you take control of this moment, but is still very much an active participant.

Lips pressing down into his, you revel in the sensation of Jeongguk; how his stunted breaths feel against your cheek, exhaled through his nose, how with every press of his lips, his hands get tighter, too. There's something impressive about the tandem way in which his body works. He's forever aiming to please. Tries so hard.

And as you begin to grind against the bulge in his trousers, he's trying his best not just to give in and let you have him. Not for any reason. Just 'cause he always wants this to last as long as it possibly can.

While you'd normally agree, you're too needy to play the long game.

Reaching down for his belt, you're pleased that he lets you. Pleased when he pushes the blazer off your shoulders and down your arms. You shake it off, while he finishes unbuckling his belt.

"Sure?" he asks, just because he doesn't want you to regret not living up to the five-date rule.

"Positive," you nod, lips crashing against his as your hands clumsily race to unbutton his shirt. He reciprocates, pulling on the bows tied above your shoulders, letting your dress fall to reveal the barely-there underwear you're wearing. It's the dresses fault. You hadn't planned on looking so scandalous, but it was the only bra of yours that wouldn't show.

Mesh with a little lace detailing over your nipples, Jeongguk's never seen it before. Is always pleasantly surprised when he's greeted with a new way to find you unbearably sexy.

"God, I'm gonna fuck you so hard," he grits, not even realising he's saying it before he tugs the mesh down. His lips wrap around your nipple, sucking without hesitation. Your head is thrown back, the sensation so terribly missed. Hands in his hair, your body is his to devour.

Tongue swirling around your hardened bud, he truly is a new man because of you. Seldom days pass without thoughts of your tits, and how much he likes to suck on them. Something about it just gets him so hard. He knows he could probably work out some primal reason to do with fertility or whatever the fuck it is, but he doesn't care to. All he cares about is how much cock aches in his pants whenever he's got your nipples in his mouth.

"So good," you whine. "Fuck."

He switches sides, caressing your other nipple with his thumb to keep the pleasure going. He'd do this for hours, if you let him. Doesn't realise you totally would.

Humming a purr of pleasure as he sucks, Jeongguk lashes splay over his cheeks. He's so pretty when he's like this, you always think. So gorgeous when he's yours.

"Keep doing that, baby," you whine, and the sweetness of such a name makes him whine, too.

Pulling away for just a moment, Jeongguk dapples your chest in kisses as he presses your tits together. Manipulates them to get your nipples as close together as he possibly can - then wraps his lips around them both.

The curse you let out is euphoric. Has him smiling.

His tongue is wet as he licks across your nipples, head darting from side to side. He keeps your tits pressed close together and builds his speed. Doesn't ease up, but occasionally he does dip forward ward to suck on one of your nipples quickly.

It's as he's doing this that you get to work on his trouser buttons, desperate to do the exact same thing to his cock.

Pulling away, you strip yourself of your dress as Jeongguk rids himself of his clothes. It's frantic in a way that you haven't known for quite some time. Desperate. Pathetic.

And yet as you're greeted with the sight of his swollen cock, all big and engorged, leaking at the tip from how badly he wants to be inside you, you pause. Let the breathlessness of your chest heave as you get into position between his legs.

Slow as you sink into a feline pose, one of your hands instantly wraps around the base of his thick cock. "I've missed this so much."

Jeongguk grunts. "It's missed-" your tongue runs up his shaft. "Oh, fuck."

Words are difficult for him to form as you take his cock in your mouth. Just like him, you're not wasting any precious time. All you want is to make him feel good - and as your mouth wets him, tongue caressing, hand tight around his base, he knows he'll never love another pair of lips more (though your pussy is a close second (or joint first ( undoubtedly joint first))).

"Fuck," he grits as his hand tangles in the back of your hair, pushing you a little further onto his cock. There's something about this loss of autonomy that gets you wild. Makes you wanna submit to each and every one of his commands - and so you sink down even deeper than he's making you. Indicating permission for him to be rougher - but instead, grip still at the base of your hair, he pulls your back. Is unbelievably turned on by the breathlessness of you, pouty lips covered in spit, desperate to be around his cock.

It only serves to make you fucking drip when you realise he's panting too. "Need a chess gesture," he husks. Wants to be rough, but you're both drunk. Doesn't think it's the right time. "Can't say it when you're giving head."

"I'll just hit your leg, or something," you tell him, not giving a fuck and dipping back down to take him again - but his grip on your hair says otherwise.

"Uh-uh," he grunts, using the grip to pull you up again. There's something so innately dominant about it that makes you whine. He pulls you further upwards, dropping a hand to your waist to help his agenda. Gets you on his lap. His tongue in your mouth. His grunts in your throat. His heart in your chest. "I've missed this so much. You know how many times I've watched those videos?"

You know the ones he's talking about; the one filmed together in moments of lewdness. Moments that would look tame compared to how animalistic you both are now.

"Tell me," you pant, as you begin to grind against him, desperately hoping he'll choose to push up inside you.

"On repeat," he whispers against your throat, nipping it with his teeth. "Watched them on fuckin repeat, B."

"Yeah?" You purr. "You like watching me play with myself?"

"You know I fuckin' do."

"It makes you cum?" You ask, as if it even needs an answer. You just like it when he gets all chatty. Have missed how loose his lips get when the blood rushes from his brain to his balls.

" You make me cum," he grunts, all dignity evading him. Swears down he wouldn't even get close to an orgasm if it wasn't you in those damn videos. "I watch you , and I think about how you feel, how you taste. How you smell. Fuck. I see you like that, and it makes me wanna see it in motion all over again. 3D. Off-screen. Videos are good, but fuck ."

"This is better?" You softly whine as you finally sink down onto his cock, unprotected, and frankly without a fuck to give.

"You really do ask some stupid fuckin' questions," he smirks. Presses his lips into yours. Is rough. Doesn't care for perfection. Pushes deeper into you, and revels at the way your body stretches for him, the whine in your throat an indicator of just how badly you've needed this. "Normally so smart when you're on my cock, arent you? Huh? What's got you so dumb today, baby?"

Does he really expect you to form cognitive thoughts when his thick cock is stretching you out for the first time in forever? He must be mad.

"You," is all you manage to husk before his lips crash down onto yours, hips pulsing into a rhythm that has you moaning into his mouth. "Gguk-"

"That's it, baby," he whines. "Taking me so well."

There's an undeniable chemistry between you both; an acknowledgement that sex has never been like this with anyone else. That if you lose this, you'll never find it anywhere else. Jeongguk knows it just as damn well as you do. Refuses to let that ever be a reality.

His eyes drop to where your bodies meet, his thick shaft pushing into your swollen pussy. Finds himself breathless. Swallowing. Groaning, "Tell me how it feels."

He needs confirmation that you're going out of your mind like he is - and of course you are. It's the whole reason you can barely speak.

"So good," you gasp out. "Making me feel so good."

"Yeah, baby?"

"Yeah," you nod helplessly, brows furrowed, mouth ajar. There's a beauty to the way you bounce on his cock, and how the rest of your body moves too. Jeongguk thinks you should be in one of those red-light district shows in Amsterdam. Knows he'd pay an insane amount of money to watch you have sex - but the fact he gets to fuck you? For free? Ain't no way he'll ever take it for granted. Brushes his thumb against your clit and squeezes at your chest. He wants you to know how much he desires every single part of you. "Fuck, Gguk."

"Shush, shush, shush," he hushes you fondly, covering your mouth with his hand, pulling your chest down to his. Your hair cascades around his face, and he's glad for it. Wants to suffocate in everything you are. "Too loud, gorgeous."

"Thought you wanted people to know?"

"I want them to know I make you moan," he teases, uncertain of when your friends will head back, too. "Don't want them to know how you moan."

He's got a funny way of showing it as his arm wraps around your back to hold you in place as his hips begin to pulse up into you at such a speed you can't help but whine. His spare hand claps your wrists and holds them behind your back, too, rendering you at his complete mercy.

"Shhh," he coos, as if you can stop.

The only option is to bite down on his shoulder - and he finds that it only serves to turn him on even more.

"Good girl, baby," he praises. "Keep it quiet."

"Fuck you," you pant, but have to bite down again immediately with the way his hips thrash against yours. He's deliberately making this hard for you. Enjoys the way you can barely contain how he makes you feel.

There's a silkiness to the way he fucks you, his cock fitting you perfectly. The warmth of your walls and the pace of his hips creates a sensation that could never be matched. Will never be matched.

Turning your head to the side, you press kisses up his neck, barely able to control your whines. He tilts his head to meet yours, and kisses you without reservation. Is utterly consumed. The weight of your body on top of his is so comforting, and yet the sensation of your hot walls tightening around him is insanely sexy. You make him feel a dozen different emotions with each passing second. It's overwhelming. Unbearable. Too good to ever stop.

"Babe," you whimper as a familiar sensation begins to make itself known.

"I know," he nods. "Me, too. Oh God, you're so fucking good, baby."

You shake your head. You don't think he does know. Use all your core strength to sit up. He lets you without hesitation, and drops his grip. Knows you're gonna do whatever you need to do to make this good for yourself - and you start rubbing against yourself with more speed than he thinks he's ever seen, he realises what you meant.

There's a soft whine reserved for moments like these; that only come with orgasms like this one. Jeongguk wants to bottle them up. Save them forever. Instead, just has to drink them in, and watch on as the most beautiful, outrageous display of sensuality he's ever seen takes place right in front of him.

"Oh, fuck," he curses. Nods. Encourages. "All over me, baby. C'mon, Byeol. You know how I like it. Squirt for me."

His hips pick up the pace. He knows you need it. Knows that it only happens when you're overwhelmed by pleasure, and needs it more than he needs his own orgasm. Isn't even thinking about it.

The way you're whining, all breathless and pathetic, is like music to his ears. Spanking against your clit, you feel a numbness in your arms. The control you have is waning, the state of pleasure simply too much. It shoots from your toes to your tummy, and then there's nothing you can do except let the onslaught of your pleasure gush around his shaft.

"That's it," he encourages, still pulsing his hips for you. "Yeah, you got it, baby. That's it- fuck ."

Whimpering as you soak him, you can barely manage to get a word out, but manage to stutter, "Inside. Inside ."

He doesn't need telling twice. Waits until he can't take the clenching of your walls any longer, but can't wait it out entirely. Groans as his cock pumps into your pussy, coating your walls with his thick, hot, cum. The way his whines, eyes closed, back arching, chest stuttering is pathetic. Lewd. Gorgeous.

Collapsing down onto his chest, you can't speak. Nor can he. Are in a mutual state of fucked fucked out bliss. You're breathing far too heavily. It's a miracle you can breathe at all.

One of his hands lazily comes to rub up and down your back. Though he doesn't utter a word, you know that he's feeling the exact same way you are.

Soft in how he touches you, Jeongguk presses a kiss into your hair. Rubs a flat palm over his face. Exhales the deepest breath known to man, and eventually says, "I'm never going that long without fucking you ever again."

You laugh now, still breathless. "Almost forgot how good it was."

"Liar," he smiles, and presses a kiss to your bare shoulder, now. "The way we fuck, B... You don't forget shit like that."

Turning your head, you press a sweet kiss into his lips and ignore the uncomfortable dampness between you both.

The world is always quiet in the comedown of sex with Jeongguk. It's like there's an emptiness, for nothing will ever compare. You're not sure if it's a lifetime or mere minutes before you both eventually get up. A shower is needed and your friends are yet to head to bed, so you're in the clear. Shower together in one of the two shared bathrooms amongst you all. Jeongguk holds you constantly. Washes you. Kisses you endlessly. Treats you with such adoration you don't think you'll ever be able to convince anyone you're 'just friends'.

Tucked in the corners of the Hanok, the journey to your room from the bathroom is only six or seven steps. Wrapped in fluffy white towels - packed by Jeongguk, of course - you're both in a state of bliss as you begin to walk to your room. It'd be perfection, if the grating voice of a little shit who loves being proven right didn't start cackling.

"Hello, lovers," Jimin beams.

"Oh, fuck," you say in unison.

Thing is, it's not just Jimin.

It's everyone .

Jeongguk does not have the capacity to deal with any of them. Hurries you into your room.

"Get fucked, Jimin," he calls back, the sound of his housemate's laughter echoing into the night.

"I'd tell you the same," Jimin yells back with absolute joy as the door slams behind Jeongguk. "But I'm pretty sure you already have!"