#this is so late but i am excited for this

[stevesgother]

Chalkboard Hearts Pt III - S.H

Pairing - Teacher!Steve Harrington x Single!Mom!Reader

WC - 4.3k

Summary - A winter dance recital prompts you and Steve to spend a little more time together outside of the school.

AN - here they are again! the crowd favs it seems. thank you all so much again for the love on previous parts, i’m so excited for everyone to see where the story is headed and what these two losers get up to next. ~ emma <3

Outside the door labeled with a plaque that reads ‘Mr. Harrington’ in neat font, you can just barely make out the faint hum of a distantly familiar song. The door is slightly ajar but you still give a soft knock before entering to announce your arrival.

“Mommy!” Abbey shouts as she barrels towards you; whatever activity she was previously occupied with long forgotten.

“Hi, bug!” You greet through a quiet grunt as you hoist her up. “How was your day?”

Steve had taken to tutoring Abbey after class most days. He had originally offered under the guise that she was falling behind some of the other kids, and while that may be true, you suspect that he really offered because he noticed how guilty you’d been recently for being late picking Abbey up from school. Your job has been keeping you past three, despite having told them repeatedly that you have to clock out by two. You can’t afford to lose said job– rendering you both effectively homeless– and embarrassingly enough, Steve knows this.

“Good!” she wriggles out of your arms, not too partial for physical affection these days, “I was showing Mr. H my dance for the recital!”

“Is that so?” You ask, amused.

“Yes, but Mr. H is not very good at dancing–” she makes a pitiful face that she unsuccessfully hides from Steve.

“--Hey!” Steve laughs, “I think I’m pretty good!” Trying to sound confident but faltering, it elicits a boisterous laugh from you.

“Show us your moves then, Harrington,”

“Fine,” he huffs defiantly and hilariously contorts himself into what he thinks is a correct position for a pirouette. He balances on one foot– the other one tucked clumsily into his knee– and brings his arms up and over his head like one of those spinning jewelry box ballerinas.

“No, that’s really good. You should keep going,” you try to trap your giggling between your teeth, but Abbey doesn’t spare him such mercy, as she is literally doubled over in a fit of laughter watching him.

“Jerks!” He stops his sorry excuse for a twirl long enough to take in the sight of Abbey, who’s still cackling so much she doesn’t even notice he’s done with this antics. A knowing, affectionate glance is shared between you two at the sight of her.

“Whaddya think, Ab? Am I ready for the big stage?” He motions towards himself flamboyantly– striking a pose with his hands on his hips. Not sensing his sarcasm, she exclaims, “No!” incredulously through her gasping, trying to catch her breath. You imagine this isn’t the first instance of this happening today.

“I guess I’ll leave the dancing up to you then, huh?”

Suddenly, her expression erupts with a look of joy that only comes from a great epiphany,

“Can you come to my recital?!”

–

“Mommy that hurts!” Abbey whines from where she’s seated on the bathroom counter.

“Just a few more minutes and then we’ll be done, I promise.”

Trying to tame her unruly curls into a slicked and gelled ballerina bun was proving to be more challenging than you originally thought. Her dance teacher's instructions were very clear, however– the hair must be in a bun, accompanied by the most ridiculous amount of blush you’ve ever seen on a child, so that she doesn’t look pale under the stage lights.

One entire bottle of hair gel and several broken hair ties later, the updo is as neat as you can possibly manage, “Alright, girl, you’re all set. Let’s go get your costume on, yeah?”

She nods as you assist her off the counter and onto the tiled bathroom floor. She books it to her room and you follow suit, but when you look in her closet where you could’ve sworn you left her costume– it's nowhere to be seen.

“Abbey… where’s your costume?” You ask through a tight lipped smile, suspecting you know exactly what happened to it.

“I don’t know…” she answers mousily.

“Were you using it to play dress-up?”

She breaks instantly– her guilty conscience making it impossible for her to lie to you for very long, “Yes but!--”

“--Abbey!”

“I put it right back where I found it!”

You take a deep, grounding breath before you truly start to overreact, “Well obviously not, Ab. Just help me look for it, okay?”

Twenty excruciating minutes later, you’re sweating and on your hands and knees tearing through your daughter’s closet; the mess you’re making is a problem for your future self. Every item of clothing starts to look exactly the same– just an amalgamation of pink and glitter and blinding sequins.

“I found it, mommy!” Abbey yells triumphantly from the hallway as she sprints into her room– beaming and holding the tutu like it's a gold medal.

“Yes!” You gasp with relief and haphazardly crawl in her direction, suddenly thankful that no one else can witness you in such a state, “Hurry, let’s put it on.”

You slip the sparkly red and green costume on her as quickly as possible without damaging the bun you just spent at least an hour on. She does a little twirl, grinning ear to ear, “I feel like a princess!” She exclaims.

In the car, you struggle to buckle her seatbelt over her frilly tutu. After a little finessing, you figure it’ll be fine for the drive up the road to the local high school where the recital is being hosted in their auditorium.

–

In the lobby, you’re looking as disheveled as you feel. Abbey held one of your arms, and in the other you carried a small duffle bag full of extra hair products and a spare set of tights. She’s bouncing with nerves beside you, and asking you for at least the fifth time in ten minutes, ‘Where’s Mr. H?’

“I’m sure he’s here, Ab, we just have to find him,” you reassure her again, anxiously chewing the inside of your cheek as you scan the room for a perfectly manicured head of chestnut colored hair.

And as if he’s got some powerful sixth sense for knowing when he’s needed, you spot him timidly entering the double doors, dodging stray children and looking a little out of place. He holds a small bouquet of red roses that match the shade of his cheeks and nose– tinted red from the biting chill of early December winds.

“Steve!” You call from where you and Abbey stand near the makeshift dressing rooms– waving frantically to get his attention for your daughter's sake just as much as your own, “Over here!”

A look of recognition and then relief passes over his features when he identifies where his name is being called from, and slowly but surely starts to make his way over to you both. If he was just smiling before, he was positively beaming when he caught the sight of Abbey for the first time. His strides increase in length to catch up to you faster.

“Abbey! Look at you!” He compliments, and suddenly she’s all bashful. The man she looks up to almost as much as her own mother is here to see her perform for the first time, with a bouquet of flowers and an unrelenting grin plastered on his face. The sight does nothing to extinguish the steadily growing fire that’s made a home in the pit of your chest the past four months.

She shyly eyes the flowers in his hands– the bouquet almost the length of her own torso, “I brought these for you,” he extends them out for her and she accepts them timidly, swaying on her feet like she can’t stand to be still, “Thank you,” she all but whispers.

“Of course,” he squeezes her little hand as he straightens back to his full height. He directs his attention to you, “How are you? Did everything go alright?” Now you’re sure you look as frazzled as you feel.

“We had a mishap or two, but nothing we can’t handle. Right, Ab?” She’s not paying the slightest bit of attention– too busy observing the older kids as they mingle in front of the auditorium with their friends, “I’ll tell you about it later,” you give him a lopsided grin.

“Yeah, okay,” he nods, “when does the show start?”

Checking your watch, you reply, “Just a few minutes. I’m going to drop her off backstage, stay here.” He gives a two finger salute and you recapture Abbey’s focus enough to guide her down the hall where dozens of other dancers in identical costumes were congregating.

You kneel down to her eye level, “I’m so proud of you, you’re going to be amazing,” gently pinching her blushing cheek for emphasis, “Mr. H and I will be right up front, okay?”

She nods once, “Okay, momma,”

“I love you, Ab,” you give her one last squeeze before sending her off, albeit begrudgingly. You know she’s in good hands with the instructors, but lately it seems like the universe keeps finding new ways to shove in your face just how quickly she’s growing up.

When you relocate Steve, he’s standing exactly where you left him.

“You ready?” He asks as you approach.

“Mhm,” you nod and smile in response, suddenly too nervous to meet his gaze. Being around him with Abbey is one thing, but without her as a buffer, you find yourself getting increasingly jittery.

An usher hands Steve a program for the recital, which he promptly passes to you before thanking the woman. You can feel his right hand just barely hovering over your lower back with a featherlight pressure to guide you through the swarms of families attempting to enter the auditorium. You don’t think it’s even a conscious act, but the touch makes your heart– for lack of a better phrase– drop into your ass. You come to the stark realization that to the untrained eye, you must resemble two doting parents here to watch their child perform.

“Alright, where are we sitting?” He asks, breaking you out of your stupor.

“Oh–uhm,” trying and failing to speak around the dry muscle that sits in your mouth like lead, “Row C, I think,”

When you reach your assigned seats, he waits for you to go ahead of him, holding his arm out as if to say ‘ladies first’, just like he did that day on the bus. It makes you swoon just as much now as it did then. The auditorium feels sweltering.

“Hey,” he places a clammy hand on your knee when he notices you zoning again, “You okay?” Oh my God get it together, you think.

“Oh, yeah, it’s just,” you pull at the neckline of your wool sweater, “It’s a little warm in here, isn’t it?”

“A little bit, yeah. Long morning?” He asks with an empathetic wince.

“You could say that,” you chuckle breathlessly, “With her? Every morning is a long morning,”

“You can say that again,” he shares in your laughter, “keeps me on my toes, alright.”

“I don’t know where she gets it from,” you sigh introspectively, “some days I feel like she couldn’t be less like me even if she tried.”

“I beg to differ,” The way he smiles at you sets you on fire from the inside out, but the lights dim– signifying the beginning of the show– before you get the chance to ask him what he meant. It’s only then that he removes his palm from your leg, and you immediately miss the weight of it resting there.

The Nutcracker theme plays over the loudspeaker as a group of ten or so little girls perform a haphazardly put together ballet number. Almost all of them are doing something different, but with huge, toothy smiles on their faces nonetheless. Originally, putting Abbey in dance served as a way to tire her out before bedtime and give yourself a measly hour of alone time, but seeing how much effort she’s put into practicing and how much joy she takes in performing cements your decision to keep her in class.

She performs wonderfully, just as you suspected she would. Always your little perfectionist. You may be biased, but you thought she was the most elegant and beautiful little girl on that stage.

When the company takes their bows, you and Steve both shoot up at the same time to give a standing ovation. Everyone else stays seated, which would have been embarrassing if you weren’t so filled to the brim with pride for your daughter. There was simply no room in your body for any other emotion.

“Yay, Ab!”

“Let’s go, Abbey!”

You both shout simultaneously, clapping your hands ecstatically.

–

Back in the lobby, your arms are overflowing with Abbey’s things from the dressing room along with the flowers Steve brought her.

“Did you see me?!” She asks expectantly, as if you could’ve seen anyone else up there except for her.

“Of course we did!” Steve assures her quickly, “For a second I thought I was watching the real Nutcracker,”

She blushes wildly, “Really?” If you didn’t know better, you thought you could’ve seen stars reflecting in her pupils.

“Totally! You were the best one up there,” he takes his forefinger and mimics drawing an ‘X’ shape over the left side of his chest, “Cross my heart.”

Abbey tugs on the hem of your sweater you were starting to become too warm in again, “Can we still go get milkshakes?” she asks. You had forgotten all about her stage fright induced breakdown two days ago, during which you promised to get her a treat if she went through with performing.

Checking the time, you saw it was already well past eight o’clock– but what would one late bedtime hurt?

“Sure, that sounds yummy. Say goodbye to Mr. H, then we’ll go,” she barrels into his legs at full speed– her signature– and wraps her arms tightly around his knees.

“Bye, Abbey, I’ll see you on Monday, ‘kay?”

She reluctantly loosened her grip on his legs and made her way back to her designated spot next to you.

 “Goodbye, Steve, thanks for coming.” You give a small wave accompanied by a tender smile.

“Thanks for having me.” He said, returning the gesture.

Feeling a little reluctant yourself, just as Steve was crossing the threshold of the double doors, you called,

“Hey, Steve?”

He turned back at the sound of your voice, looking at you over his shoulder just enough for you to admire the straight slope of his nose and the twin moles on his cheek. He was giving you that warm, anticipative smile you were beginning to grow particularly fond of.

“Yeah?”

“Would you–uhm,” Don’t get nervous now, “Would you want to join us?”

–

At Benny’s, Abbey insists on sharing a booth with Steve while you sit opposite of them on an uncomfortable, sticky vinyl chair. Steve orders a basket of fries to share and shakes for the table. Strawberry for Abbey, and chocolate for the adults.

At one point, Abbey lifts the straw from the old fashioned shake glass and attempts to spoon the whipped cream into her mouth, consequently dripping the frozen treat all over the front of her sweatshirt. You try not to fuss, even though you’re plagued with the fear that you won't be able to get the stain out of her brand new hoodie. Such is having a five-year-old, you suppose.

Steve was quick to grab the napkins at the far end of the table, surprising you with his reflexes– like he knew the mishap would occur before it actually did. 

As he’s dabbing Abbey’s shirt dry, she studies his hand and asks, “Why don’t you have a wife Mr. H?”

“Abbey!--” You scold through a poorly concealed laugh. Steve barks out a shocked huff of laughter himself.

“How do you know I don’t have a wife?” He asks, looking a little dumbfounded at the suddenly intrusive line of questioning, but amused nonetheless.

“Well, mommy used to wear a ring for daddy, but you don’t wear a ring.” She observes, “Aren’t grownups supposed to be married?”

“Ab–” You grow quickly embarrassed by your child’s lack of a filter and social cues. Again, such is having a five-year-old.

“No, that’s okay,” Steve chuckles, only slightly reassuring you, “I guess I–” he contemplates, choosing his words carefully, “I just haven’t met anyone I want to marry yet,” the only thing giving you solace is the knowledge that he probably deals with children asking him much, much more embarrassing questions, all day long.

“Oh,” Abbey says, doing some of her own contemplation, “that’s okay, Mr. H,” she comforts, like a little therapist, patting his back twice before refocusing her attention back on her milkshake.

You send Steve a look across the table, trying your hardest to convey ‘I’m so sorry my child says the shit she says, forgive me?’ with just your expression. He seems to understand what you’re attempting to get across, because he simply shakes his head and smiles like he’s trying to tell you ‘I spend everyday with her, I get it. Don’t worry about it.’

You spend the next half hour or so swapping your funniest workplace stories with each other.

“So then, we’re in the middle of a quiz right? This kid, he just–” he motions with his hands near his mouth, “projectile vomits all over the desk and the kid sitting in front of him,”

“Oh…” you wince with second-hand disgust, “that’s brutal,”

“I know!” he laughs, “I literally had to evacuate the entire classroom,”

“I feel like I remember Abbey telling me about that, actually,”

At the mention of her, he glances to his side, “Speaking of,” he chuckles.

You follow his eyes to find Abbey slumped over into Steve’s side– completely dead to the world. You can tell she’s asleep by the rhythmic rise and fall of her breathing.

Steve carefully fishes a twenty dollar bill out of his jeans pocket– careful not to disturb her– and places it on the table underneath a sweaty glass that at one point contained a diet coke.

“Oh, no you don’t have to–” you say, reaching for the bill when he delicately grabs your wrist to stop you from trying to shove it back towards him. His palms are much softer than you anticipated, and the sudden movement of his arm sends a wave of his scent straight up your nose– nearly suffocating you. What a lovely way to go, you think.

“Hey, it’s okay. I want to,” he reassures you as he pushes your hand he’s still holding back in your direction. You oblige him, only because you don’t have the energy for a chivalry competition. You make a promise to yourself that if you’re ever fortunate enough to do this with him again, that you’ll foot the bill.

When you try to gently shake Abbey awake, he stops you again, “I got it,” he says, as he hoists Abbey up and carries her bridal style out of the diner and to your little sedan; you wish the waitress a good night as you exit. It’s a dark night outside, no moon or stars to be observed. The navy velvet of the sky is completely blanketed by heavy clouds. It’ll probably snow soon.

You open the rear passenger side door for Steve as he sets Abbey in her seat and fumbles a little bit with the seat belt mechanism. As he’s ducking back out, he rises just a second too early and rams his head on the top of the car with a harsh ‘THWACK!’  You try to stifle a surprised laugh behind the back of your hand as he groans and shuts the door as softly as he can.

“Oh my God, are you okay?!” You take a step closer to him as he scratches at the back of his usually perfectly coiffed locks, having lost its usual volume.

“Don’t laugh!” He playfully scolds.

“You’re laughing!” you quickly retort.

“Because you’re laughing!”

Once you’ve calmed a bit– reduced to just quiet giggling– you ask, “Can I look?” With that, he turns to give you a better look at the back of his head.

From this angle, you can unabashedly blush and grin at him and not have to worry about him seeing you. You relish in it for as long as possible, as well as the excuse to touch him, even for a moment.

“How do I look, doc? Am I gonna make it?” He says with a faux grim tone to his voice.

“Well, I’m just the receptionist– but you’re not bleeding, no cracks or contusions, either. I think you’ll be alright,”

You grin when he turns back around to face you again, this time with less space separating you, accounting for how closely you were inspecting his head. You stay like that for a moment too long, giving you just enough time to count the freckles spattered across the bridge of his nose like constellations lacking in the sky above you, and how his lashes kiss at the corner of his eyes.

He harshly clears his throat– a nervous habit, you’ve noticed– and looks down at the pavement where you stand, inches from each other.

“I’d better let you get her home, it’s getting late,”

“No yeah– definitely uhm…” you struggle to find your words again, “I’ll see you Monday?”

“Yeah,” he smiles fondly, “Oh, I uh– I wanted to give you this,” from out of his coat pocket, he pulls a crumpled piece of paper and hands it to you. It must’ve been in his pocket for at least a few hours, maybe even a few days– the ink smudged like he’d been nervously fidgeting with it before he gave it to you.

It was his phone number.

“You know, in case you ever–” he clears his throat again, “in case you ever need anything, or there’s an emergency, or something…” he trails off at the end of his thought like he’s completely regretting the gesture and already trying to figure out a way to back track, but before he can get the chance, you embrace him in a grateful hug.

“Thanks, Steve,” you say, slightly muffled by the hood of his coat, “I really appreciate everything you do for Abbey,”

He doesn’t mention how he gave the number of his landline to you in case you ever needed anything, he just takes the win for what it is. You have his phone number, and you’re hugging him. The perfect floral scent of your shampoo and whatever perfume you’re wearing flood his senses, and he immediately misses your touch when you pull away.

“Mommy?” Abbey croaks tiredly from the backseat, “Are we going home?”

“Yes, baby, one second,” you smile apologetically at Steve for what feels like the hundredth time tonight, “I’m gonna get her to bed.”

“Of course, go,” he says as he ushers you around to the driver's side door. As much as he craves to, he doesn’t open it for you. Maybe another time, he thinks.

“Goodnight, Steve.” You say before you pull the door closed.

“Goodnight, drive safe,” he aims his sights for the backseat, “Goodnight, Ab. You did awesome today,”

“Bye, Mr. H,” she waves, eyelids heavy with the exhaustion of being everyone’s favorite five-year-old all day.

Steve waits until you’ve pulled out of the parking lot, hands shoved tightly into his jeans pockets, before walking to his own car across the parking lot.

–

About halfway home and in between bouts of nodding off, Abbey asks quietly from the backseat, “Can Mr. H be like daddy?”

Startled and slightly confused by the nature of her question, you lock eyes with her through the rearview mirror, “What?”

Even though you fully heard her the first time, she reiterates, “I mean like, because we don’t have a daddy anymore,” she pauses– thinking, “maybe he could come live with us?”

“Oh, I don’t know, baby. It doesn’t always work like that, you know?” It breaks your heart to break hers.

“But–” she pouts in that adorable way that she does when she’s trying to lure you into giving her something she wants. Though this time, you can’t tell if it’s genuine or not. “He said he doesn’t have a wife!”

You can tell she’s too tired to have a productive discussion about this, and frankly– you have not a single idea of how to approach this subject, “Tell you what– how about we talk about it tomorrow when you wake up, yeah?” You try to reason, but secretly hoping she’s too drowsy to remember this conversation in the morning.

Mid-yawn she responds, “Okay…” clearly losing her battle with the hypnotic hum of the engine lulling her softly back to sleep.

–

At well past eleven o’clock, you find yourself sinking into the cushions of your thrifted sofa, staring at the faded piece of paper with Steve’s phone number scrawled on it so hard you thought it might burst into flames and disintegrate.

The drone of black and white reruns playing on the television was your only reprieve from the rushing spiral of your rumination, as you fought the urge to call Steve and ask what counted as ‘an emergency or…something.’

You wondered, against your better judgement, what you’d be interrupting if you gave into your temptation. You wonder if he, too, is lying restless somewhere in his house just like you were– if he has someone there to keep him company, and maybe you’d gotten this all wrong. You wonder if his walls are filled to the brim with photos of his life before Maine, and what brought him here in the first place. You wonder if he sleeps with the fan on or off.

You wonder if you should even be feeling this way at all.

But somewhere, in a mostly empty house on Ashburton street, Steve is staring at the white expanse of his popcorn ceiling of his bedroom pondering identical thoughts about you.

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[azziesbattybaddie]

Shadows and Snow Angels

Chapter 1 - A little bundle

Azriel x Reader, Azriel x child OCs

Normally when your mate Azriel comes home from the camps and asks you not to get mad it's because he brought home another wounded animal, not a baby boy...

Word count: 1.3k

💕 💔

Requested: Sorta. This prompt wasn't requested to me per se, but I saw @romantasyreader28 made a post wanting someone to write it and it inspired me.

If you don't like what your reading click off!

Series warnings: past emotional abuse, past physical abuse, past emotional trauma, non explicit thoughts of suicide, depression, parental doubt, child abandonment, past child abandonment, brief talk of past pregnancy. no details mentioned, mention of non explicit SA. Every chapter will be individually tagged.

Author's note: I just wanted to say that this prompt pulled me out of a really bad writing slump after my co-writer/biscuit making master childhood kitty unfortunately passed about 2 months ago. So thank you @romantasyreader28, this story really helped me get back into writing and I hope you really enjoy it. It did deviate slightly from your original prompt but I hope that the fact that this will be a series makes up for it. Enjoy!

Author's note 2: hey so I lied, I got a boost of energy and actually finished this early, so I'm only 1 day late. I'm going to try and put a fic or drabble out every Friday but please be aware I'm in the middle of moving so if I miss a day or am late, it's probably for good reason.

Chapter warnings: brief talk of past child abandonment, non explicit memories of child abuse, brief mention of being pregnant, implied SA, some cursing but not much.

See normally when your mate Azriel comes home from the camps and asks you not to be mad, it's because he brought home another wounded animal, not a baby boy...

"Please don't be upset, Devlon said that if someone didn't take him then he was going to send him off to another camp and he would end up just like Cass... I couldn't just leave him like that." His Shadows reached out to you invitingly, curling and spinning like they were excited. "Love, please say something..."

Your mate never rambled, it wasn't in his nature and that's what shocked you the most to be honest. So you sat where you were on the couch, mid bite of pizza, trying to figure out if he actually adopted a baby without telling you, or if he just decided to babysit Nyx for the night and is pranking you. No, no he definitely adopted a baby and didn't tell you, that sounds about right for him.

"Azriel, tell me that this is a prank and that, THAT little boy is just our nephew in a table cloth..." You set down your plate of food and walked over to your mate, Shadows now running up your back and sitting on your shoulders calmly. You knew, you just had a feeling in your gut that he was not just joking around.

Azriel was clutching the small bundle to his chest as if it would disappear if he loosened his grip even slightly. You came and pulled back the fabric to see a small Illyrian infant tightly wrapped in a tattered excuse of a baby blanket. You gasped and clapped a hand over your mouth as you saw the most precious little thing, he had no clothes but the blanket. A lithe inky Shadow jumped from your hand and into the little boy. It nuzzled his cheek lovingly before returning to rest under your mates wing.

You scooped the baby up out of Azriels arms before he could react and headed upstairs to the nursery. You quickly set him on the changing table, and unfurled the raggy fabric. The poor thing didn't even have a diaper just mess of fabric pinned against him. You didn't have to even leave the changing station seeing as the shadows that followed you up the stairs had a clean garment waiting right next to you. As you were changing him into a fresh, actual diaper, you heard Azriel's footsteps coming up the stairs behind you.

"Babe, I know that you have a perfectly reasonable explanation but your timing is kind of horrible Azzie..." You said only half joking as you handed him the baby back gently and grabbed the nearest actual blanket to wrap around him snuggly. You quickly ran to dress your sleeping baby girl is some warm clothes and a blanket too. Barely 2 weeks old and the little Astrid was already mixed into the family drama.

"Where are we going?" Azriel asked tentatively. He was holding the baby like a statue, only holding him right because of how you handed him over. Azriel's Shadows swarmed Astrid the moment you set her down to go nuzzle and love on her. You had taught them to be careful to not completely smother her. It was said that a Shadowsinger's Shadows would only listen to their master. Maybe it was the mating bond, maybe they just liked you but sometimes it seemed that the inky void that shrouds your mate, liked you better.

"Az, you know how to hold a baby, you know cuz your and Uncle... And a Father..." You set your still daughter back in her crib for a moment and padded over and cradle your mates face in your hand, your other intertwined with his scared flesh. "I'm not mad at you. Just, you do realize that we've only had Astrid for a couple of weeks and now we have two, right?"

"I know, and I'm sorry for not telling you. I was afraid if I didn't bring him home, Devlon would have sent him off before I could get back." Azriels shoulders seemed to finally relax a shadow falling from his mess of curls to sit around his neck calming. His grip on the swaddled little one became natural again. "You still didn't tell me where we are going, it past 1 in the morning."

You picked up Astrid, shooing away the inky void that doted on her constantly and walked to your bed room to grab your shoes and your coat. Azriel stood in the hallway that lead back downstairs, waiting for you patiently. He was bouncing the little boy in his arms gently, this parental instincts finally coming back to him when the little one started to cry.

"Feyre always said that we could head over to the river house in a time of emergency and I'm detailing 'we just adopted a little boy with no clothes or anything we need to take care for of a second baby,' an emergency. She probably still has some clothes that is too small for Nyx laying around, for now at least."

You both decided to walk the short distance to you home to the giant river house. Your daughters wings fluttered at the feel of snowflakes melting on the every so often. You both walked close together, as you usually did, babys in arms, the quiet of velaris washed over the two of you like a blanket. You could feel Azriel's Shadows almost climbing up your legs and coming to rest on your shoulders to admire their masters daughter.

"Ok..." You said slowly your head clearing with the fresh chilled air. "I'm not upset. But I'm going to ask some questions and I need better than 'I don't know', ok?" You needed to hear what happened, as much as it happens, it's rare for a baby to end up with no one and you wanted to know everything about this little life that you were about to add to your family.

Azriel nodded his head, his eyes trailed over the white city. As tense as he always looked, Azriel's Shadows curled up under his wings comfortably. He cradled the infant tightly to his chest, scarred fingers gently played with the edge of the blanket as you both walked. Normally the Shadows would flock to you when you had Astrid but they seemed to have divided, wanting to look over and cuddle both babys.

"Does he have a name?" You start with. As you cross the Sidra you can smell the food coming from the rainbow, you could even hear the faint sound of music booming, Rita's not being far away. You still can't believe that days of going out and partying until sunrise with your family wouldn't be an option for a long, long while.

"Not that I know of." He shrugged, adjusting the blanket so the infants wings fan out comfortably after he started to fuss. The boy seemed to be a calm baby so far but you would be taking him to madja bright and early tomorrow just to make sure nothing was wrong.

"How old is he?"

"Devlon said he's not more than 6 months old, he didn't know specifics. He just said that his father was killed in the blood rite this year and his mother was... Like I said, he would have been just another Cass..." He bounced the little boy in his arms, more to soothe himself than the baby.

Your blood boiled in your veins, and you had to take multiple deep breaths to keep from crying. You loved your mate dearly, and his brothers were your family, the best you could have asked for but Illyrians in general made you so angry most of the time! They treat females like property and they steal them just the same. Then the female gets shamed for being pregnant, without a husband. If he really was like Cass, you prayed to the Cauldron that his mother had a peaceful second life after what she no doubt endured.

"Well, if we're going to keep him, he's going to need a name." You said with a smile as you neared the side walk that lead up to the river house. Your mate had the biggest heart and the kindest soul, you didn't care what anyone said, you knew him best. This male brought home countless animals so he could nurse them back to health. He always made sure that nothing bad happened to those animals, and if they didn't make it, they earned a spot in your backyard with the other rainbow pets, as Azriel likes to call them. If the Mother sent him a baby then she meant for us to be the ones to love him. Azriel thought for a bit. He only looked up once we stood at the front door of his brother's home.

"What about Rhain?" A shadow flew up and wrapped around the door knocker, knocking loudly before returning to your mates shoulder.

"Why Rhain?" You asked before knocking again louder this time before you saw a light turn on inside meaning you got somes attention.

Azriel shrugged his shoulders and shook his head with the smallest smile coming to rest over his face. He looked down at the bundled little baby with a fondness you only seen him show to your daughter. You head shuffling on the other side of the door and smiled at your mate before your brother in law opened the door, looking very much worse for wear.

"Rhain it is."

FYI Rhain, pronounced Rain or Rine, either is fine means strength, power, resistance, and potential. It also means 'the spear' in Welsh.

If you want to be added to the tag list or would like to be added to the tag list for the series masterlist plz comment or dm me and I'll add you.

Thank you so much for reading and I hope that you enjoyed!

Taglist

@romantasyreader28 @mulansaucey @jennnsthings @6v6babycheese @mich0731 @starlightandsouls @ohemgeewhat @littlelunatica @icey--stars @paleidiot @jir67

[writinganon1]

@cokoweee

Ya’ll ever have a dream so lifelike it feels aggressively real until one thing goes a little too wrong and then you start to realize that maybe you’re in a dream but it’s also too real to convince yourself it’s not real that you can’t wake yourself up? 

TW: panic attack, I say gun, uhhh blood ig? Bishop says a kinda weird thing but that's just him bein him

can I say blood? last time I did it marked me as mature...

-

Her heart thumped against her chest, lactic acid building in her legs as she ran. She tapped furiously at her phone, fingers slipping over the screen as she tried to deploy Sheldon. 

Donnie says “no no no” chimed a pixilated picture of Othello, his finger waving back and forth. 

“What the-” She slammed against a wall, her shoulder crunching against the brick. 

His stupid programming on the poor thing to keep Sheldon at his house. Maybe she could override it? 

No, not enough time. She was just going to have to run and hope for the best. 

Her shoulder screamed in protest as she climbed the ladder in the alley. Scrambling over the side of the building to catch her breath, she tapped at the screen again. 

There had to be something she could do to foil his programming. She wiped at her nose, the cold still not quite gone even after days of bed rest. Bullets flew over the edge of the building, seemingly locking on to her body heat. Throwing herself at the ledge at the last second to force the bullets to crash into the wall she coughed violently, phlegm coating her throat.

Stupid sickness. 

Stupid Othello leaving her with the stupid rabbit farmer.

She pushed herself off the ground, arms struggling under the weight of herself. It was as if every muscle in her body was on fire, each fiber screaming at her to stop. She gulped raising her head over the ledge. Agent Bishop was standing on the adjacent rooftop, his face curled into a sneer, eyes unblinking despite the sun in his eyes. 

He waved at her, fingers waggling in the air as he pulled a small gun from his pocket. Aiming it directly at her chest he grinned, his eyes flickering with something distinctly unhuman. 

She stumbled backward, her feet skidding over the concrete as he seemed to lock onto her. Loose rock dug into her knees as she clambered over the rooftop. 

Away.

All she needed to do was get away. 

She placed a hand over her stomach, feeling the raised bump of the scar, as she moved.

This was…

This was wrong? 

It didn’t happen this way. 

No. She didn’t need to get away, she needed to get out. 

The bullet ripped into her skin, tearing away at muscle, and shattering the bone in her rib.

She screamed, blood pouring from the gaping hole in her chest, as Bishop moved closer. He walked to her side, footsteps clanking against the concrete. 

Clawing at the ground she dragged her body along the roof, rocks digging under her nails. Bishop laughed, his foot trampling her hand, digging it into the ground. She gasped, breathing shallowly as she fought to get loose. 

He grabbed her hair, wrapping it between his fingers and tightening his grip as he pulled her from the floor. 

“Oh, this is wonderful.” He smiled, voice dripping with venom. “Such a pretty little thing I caught this evening. I’ve been dying to chat with you.” He pulled her hair up, forcing her to rise. “I wonder if she’ll do any tricks?” 

She spat in his face, her ears filled with an all-consuming ringing. 

Away. 

She needed to get away. 

It didn’t matter how. She needed to get away. 

He said something else, flaunting some sort of mechanism he had hidden in his shirt. She tried to focus on his words, but her breathing was too shallow, her limbs too shaky, the ringing too loud for her to hear a word. 

She clamped a hand over her chest, a sorry attempt to staunch the flow of blood from the gaping hole in her body. Cursing softly she watched as the red seeped into a slithering pink fleshy mass. 

She stifled a scream as the pink turned an orange maroon, her own blood fueling some sort of monster. 

“Shhhhhhh.” Bishop whispered against her ear, “It’ll be done soon. Just one quick slash and you’ll be out of my hair for good.” 

The mass jumped forward, faster than she could comprehend, her body spasming in pain as she scrambled back.

Was this the Krang she’d heard so much about after she’d left the jail? Weren’t they supposed to be mindless or something? 

It lunged forward again, tentacles lashing toward her face. Bishop shook her in front of him, like a toy for a dog. 

“Kendra?”  

She screamed as he tightened his grip on her, shaking her around like a bag of flour. The world around her turned hazy, her vision blurring in and out. 

She wasn’t going to go out without a fight. 

Throwing her head back she jammed her skull into his chin, breaking the grip he had on her hair. 

She clawed at the ground, a strange silky feeling coating her fingers. Pushing away the softness of what was sure to be Krang, she kicked at the mass as it wiggled unnaturally. 

“KENDRA!” A familiar voice shouted at her, a gentle three-fingered nubby touch against her arm. 

Her eyes flew open, arms flailing to the sides to swat at what was left of the Krang matter, as hands held her back. She gasped, her chest heaving as a sinking feeling hit her gut. Dread splashed over her head like a wave, drowning her, leaving nothing but fear.

Eyes widening she looked next to her for Tello, horrified as darkness encroached on her vision, leaving her staring through a pin hole. Nausea rolled through her stomach as she gasped for air, her chest shuddering to keep up with her breathing. 

It hurt. It hurt so bad. 

“Hey, hey, hey.” He whispered, hand placed against her back. “It’s ok you’re home. You’re with me.” 

She jerked backward. He was loud. So so loud. Even with the ringing in her ears, he was too loud. 

Breaths were punched from her lungs faster than she could finish taking them in. Tears streamed down her face as her eyes blew wide. Her chest tightened, lungs twisting as she shook. 

She’s dying. She has to be dying. There’s no other explanation. 

Dead in her room from a nightmare-induced heart attack,  

Her eyes flickered back and forth over the room, not focusing on anything, just wildly scanning for danger she knew wasn’t there. Willing her arm to move, she let out a chocked warble. 

The room seemed to melt around her. Things blurred together, a fuzzy abstract painting of almost-real-life. Sweat beaded on her forehead as she tightened her muscles. 

Her whole body shook as she tried to take steadying breaths. 

“Did you know softshell turtles only have half a plastron?” 

She was in the middle of dying. 

She most definitely did not need turtle facts right now. 

“Technically a full one, but it’s covered by skin, rendering it effectively useless for plastron purposes.” He shrugs. “Same deal as the shell.” 

She looked at him, confusion breaking through the panic. 

“Makes us really flexible though. Wanna see?” 

He got off the bed, walked to the middle of the room, and bent backward. He smiled upside down at her from the floor and smoothly brought himself back up. 

“Pretty neat huh?” He waggled his eyebrows. “Bet no other turtle you meet could do that.” 

Amusement rippled through her as she watched him demonstrate his stretches and various yoga poses.

“I’ve never met another turtle like you.” She breathed, some of the panic melting away. 

“Precisely! No one can do it like me!” He said, pointing his finger at her triumphantly before his face softened. “ We starting to feel a bit better?” 

She brought her thumb and pointer finger close together. A little 

He nodded. “Am I good to come back up or do you need some space?” 

She patted the bed next to her, inviting him closer. She waited until he was seated comfortably before slumping against his shoulder, exhausted. 

He shifted slightly, reaching for his phone with one hand, the other wrapped around her. He let them sit for a moment, reminding her to breathe every few seconds before Sheldon zipped into the room. 

He whispered something to Othello before zooming out of the room. She watched passively as it happened, her body still not quite connected to her soul. 

Sheldon returned moments later, a bag of ice, a bottle of water, a cookie, and tub of lavender lotion in his little propeller arms. 

Othello took them from him, patted his head, and shooed him away. Taking one of the ice cubes he flattened out her hand and placed it in her palm. 

She jerked slightly at the sensation of cold in her hand, surprised when he placed another in her palm. 

“Focus on the melting.” He said, voice low and gentle. 

The ice filled the lines of her hand and dripped over the sides and down her arm. She shivered as the water pooled in her hand. Othello grabbed the cookie from the pile he had created and broke off half to give to her. 

“Thanks?”

He watched her carefully. “What does it taste like?” 

“A cookie?” She said through a mouthful, her hands still full of TV static. 

“I need details.” He pressed. 

She paused, taking a moment to consider the flavors in her mouth. “Vanilla, chocolate chips.” She took another bite. “ Like I left it in the oven a minute or two too long and overcooked them just slightly.” 

She’d have to make another batch, this time keeping an eye on the time. 

He pressed an uncapped water bottle into her hand. “Drink.” 

She pressed the bottle to her lips, feeling the way the cold blossomed against her skin as she held it there. Quietly observing the way she could feel it go down her throat and into her stomach. 

“Are we feeling more alive?” 

She nodded, running her hand along her thigh to feel the fabric of her pajama pants as she pressed her head against his side. 

“Good.” He murmured, sleep creeping into his voice. “You had a panic attack I’m pretty sure.” 

“...Sorry it was for something stupid.” 

“I get worked up over stupid stuff too.” He mumbled, eyes half closed. 

“Your stuff isn’t stupid.” She countered. 

“Then neither is yours.” 

She stopped, lifting her head to look up at him.

He grabbed her hand, flexing the fingers for her. “You feel ok?” 

“I don’t know.” She answered honestly. 

He nodded and guided her to a lying position. “Tell me five of your favorite things.” 

She paused, looking around the room. “Hmmmmm. You.” 

“Thank you.” 

“Mhm. Uhhh, lavender. The color purple. Satin jackets. Baking. Messing around in the lab. Oh, I guess that’s more than five.” 

He tapped her shoulders rhythmically, “You can keep going if you need to.” 

She took in a deep breath. “I think I’m ok now.” 

“Positive?” 

Nodding she pulled the blankets over herself. What she really needed was rest. She was so exhausted from the whole ordeal that the idea of doing anything else felt impossible. 

He got off the bed again, searching beneath the bedframe for something before he pulled a large purple blanket from under the bed. She blinked in surprise as he placed it over her, a weight holding her down to the bed. 

“I should’ve mentioned it was weighted.” 

She pulled her hand out to give a quick thumbs up as he climbed back into bed. She shifted to hold out her arm for a hug. He smiled and pulled her close, wrapping his arm around her waist. 

“You smell like you’ve been using my soap.” She grumbled against his plastron. 

He shrugged. “ I like the way you smell.” 

Rolling her eyes she tugged the blanket higher over her shoulders smiling as soft chirping filled the room, the sound he always made right as he fell asleep. 

“Good night Tello.” She whispered.

His plastron vibrated as he churred back, gently running circles through her hair. 

She was home. And she was safe.

~

squad don't write stuff at four AM I'm pretty sure this only makes sense to me at this point. Anyway I was listening to my pretty princess playlist while writing this 💁‍♀️

the reason why this was written is in the tags btw

[chdarling]

As we’re getting closer to a truly awful day for America, I just wanted to check in on you. Things are bleak and about to get so so much worse, I want you to know I’m here and many others are here too when you’re ready

This is very kind of you, thank you. Honestly, I have not been doing great. Watching my neighbors elect a racist, fascist, Nazi-loving rapist triggered a pretty bad depressive episode on top of what was already the worst period of professional and creative burnout of my life, so….I’m struggling. Still trying to claw my way out of the dark. I’m deeply appreciative of the kindness of this community and am sorry that I haven’t (and probably won’t for a little longer) been able to engage the way I once did. I will again one day, and I am so thankful to know all you wonderful people online. <3

On a note that is completely unrelated to this gentle ask, I’ve been getting a ton of messages lately asking for a date when TLE3 is coming out and I don’t feel up to answering them (sorry) so I’m just going to tack this on here since I buried my last post on the subject under a mountain of despair reblogs: TLE3 is going to take a while.

I’m still planning to continue with my writing projects (be they TLE or other things), but right now I’m focusing on securing my own oxygen mask, etc. When I finished posting TLE2, I said that I would be taking a break and also that I would not be posting TLE3 until I had written all of it (like I had for TLE1). Even if I had been writing diligently every single day since I posted the last chapter, I still wouldn’t be done, so please understand that it’s going to take a while. It certainly will not be coming in the next 6 months, very possibly not in 2025. I know some people won’t be happy to hear that, but just a fun statistic: OOTP has 257,045 words and took three years to write/publish after GOF. TLE2 has (and this makes me cringe a little) 407,079 words and took roughly 3 years to write as an unpaid side hobby on top of full time work, education, etc. I don’t say this to toot my own horn (frankly, it just makes me desperately want to retroactively edit the crap out of TLE2 lol), but rather to reiterate that writing a book-length work takes a lot of time, energy, and love. I don’t want it to take 3 years (and I don’t think it will, TLE3 will be a more reasonable length), but it’s certainly not going to be finished in a few months. That would be insanity and I am not that talented lmao.

I do know that the requests for updates come from a place of love and enthusiasm and excitement and I really, truly appreciate that. I also appreciate all of the kind words of the asks I haven’t been answering. Please know that I’ve read them, I love you, and I will be back eventually. I just have to focus on my health right now, and unfortunately these days being online is pretty bad for that, so I'm going to try to be logged off for a while.

And finally, on another completely unrelated but perhaps mildly tangential note: if anyone has any books recommendations or resources on processing climate grief, I, uh, could use them. 🫠

[blueberrywrites]

Happy New Years .ᐟ ♡ ❪ Sylus × Reader ❫

ⓘ Warnings ⓘ : None — General Audience.

Synopsis: Sylus was never one to socialise outside of work or tactic matters, but under the inspection of Y/N's best friends, the Almighty Tara and the Great Caleb, he somehow feels like he just met the parent-in-laws.

Genre: 「 #Romance 」 「 #Fluff 」 「 #Found Family」

Notes: Female reader · she/her pronouns. Tara has been changed to y/n's, Caleb's, and Zayne's childhood + (best) friend, and they call each other siblings. Please note this is not true information in the canon events, as none of them are related to each other.

Tags: @eiuuui so far, thank you very much for showing interest!

"SYLUS, hurry up! We are going to be late!"

"I'll have to remind you that I am never late."

"Shut it! It's your fault, look at this mess!"

"Personally, I think I look quite dashing, regardless."

Y/N scowled up at his smug little smirk, swatting his chest rather harshly in reprimand. She tried to save his suit by gliding her fingers over the absurd amount of fabric wrinkles, straightening his coat as carefully as she could.

"I can't believe this, it's like I'm dating a three years old," she muttered under her breath, making Sylus swallow down a laugh at her adorable grumbling.

His girlfriend wasn't usually a overly fussy person, but tonight was a exception. Not only was it New Years, but it was also Tara's birthday. She wanted to be there early and leave as late as possible. Problem was, the leader of Onychinus got into some trouble himself with some petty burglars, and her so carefully put-together outfit she made him wear was not in the best conditions.

"If anyone asks me at this point, I don't know you."

This time, Sylus really did laugh, wrapping a arm around her waist, his touch warm and tender against her backside. She narrowed her eyes up at him, knowing exactly what he is trying to do the moment he brought her closer and into his embrace.

"Your dear Tara would be disappointed, she was excited to see your plus one, no?... We don't want to upset her on her birthday," he tucked a stray hair behind her ear, before his thumb and index finger trailed down to cup her chin, tilting her head up.

Wow, now that was unfair.

"Um... first of, let me go," Y/N poked his nose, "second, we are going to upset her by being late. Clean up your shoes and let's go!" she gave him a wet towel, turning around to finish some last minute preparations.

Sylus sighed, very reluctant to release her but nevertheless heed her order. He glanced down at his shoes, crouching down to wipe off some bloody remnants. Thankfully, his formal oxford shoes came in black.

"I'm nervous," Y/N suddenly spoke, waiting for him to finish. She, of course, was dolled up with a black terra woolen vintage dress that he bought only for her, and dark winter pantyhose paired with black heels. His eyes softened as he watched her playing with the material, a pleasant little smile on her lips.

He knew she didn't get many chances to dress up, often having insecurities about not being and not feeling pretty. So the silver-haired man took quiet pleasure at seeing her so content.

He'll share all his treasure gold with her, if he gets to see her insecurities crumbling away.

"Why is that, sweetie?"

She shrugged, glossed lips tilting up to a sheepish smile. "Tara, Caleb, Zayne... you know they're like my family, right?"

He hummed in acknowledgement, feeling his eyes narrowing at the memory of a tall dark haired doctor and the way he was looking at her. "I'm aware."

"So... you're meeting them for the first time... as my boyfriend," she shrugged. "You don't think it's a bit... soon?"

He paused, looking at her blankly.

She glanced at him, apprehensive.

He looked at her.

And she looked at him back.

Oh.

Sylus came to an abrupt realisation, feeling his face paling.

I'm meeting my in-laws.

"So you are the infamous Sylus, huh?" Tara looked up at him, crossing her arms and leaning her weight on one leg. She was a tiny thing to Sylus perspective, looking like a irritated hamster more than anything else.

"Coming so late to dinner, aren't you ashamed?" Caleb mimicked her actions, though his glare was much more prominent, and though he was around the same height and build as Sylus, it didn't erase his youthful features the least.

"Caleb." Y/N warned him, shoulders squaring up.

"My apologies," Sylus apologised smoothly, wrapping a arm around Y/N's back, making sure it was in a appropriate distance from her behind. The effect was instantaneous, for his little kitten immediately relaxed at his touch. "I'm afraid we got stuck in a traffic because of me."

"Oh?" Tara raised an eyebrow. "Because of you?"

"I forgot to change the car tires for the current snowy weather," he patted Y/N's head, making her purse her lips at his lies. Not because she didn't approve, everything to get out of her best friends' scrutiny really, but because she didn't want to laugh. There was a elephant in the room that was waiting to be addressed. "Thankfully, Y/N reminded me the moment she noticed it."

"You're rather reckless," Caleb huffed.

Sylus smiled, this time in both amusement and sincerity. "Your friend hasn't let me forget that, either."

Tara and Caleb glanced at Y/N, and the three of them had a strange stare off that Sylus wasn't privy to.

Honestly, he was almost offended.

Finally, Tara turned away from them both and rolled her eyes, grinning up at him energetically. "Well, it seems like we are going to spend New Years together! Welcome to my home!"

"A pleasure to be here," he nodded, and when a sharp jolt tugged his wrist, he glanced at his girlfriend with a raised eyebrow.

Y/N looked beyond irritated, something that activated alarms on his head. His eyes narrowed, looking at Caleb with a red flash of warning.

The boy had the decency to look regretful, at least.

"Excuse us for a bit, we'll be at the veranda."

Y/N exhaled a sigh of relief as he tagged her closer, escorting them out from the tense atmosphere.

"What is wrong with you?!" They heard Tara hissing, before a clap sounded from their direction, most likely from her hand hitting the back of Caleb's head.

Y/N sighed, but chuckled softly, her heart warming knowing her true friend was on her side at least. She knew Caleb was rather cautious as a fighter pilot, at the Deepspace Aviation Administration in Skyhaven at that, but the fact that he couldn't even be at least polite to her boyfriend was a dealbreaker.

"I haven't ruined your new years, have I?" Sylus broke the companiable silence, looking down at her with a soft red gaze.

"Of course not," Y/N reassured him, leaning her head on his bicep, their eyes tracking the slow fall of the snowflakes to the white ground. "Caleb and Zayne are being difficult, that's all."

He hummed. "I understand why Zayne didn't come, it's honestly for the best and if anything, I do not hold it against him."

"Hm? What do you mean?"

He smirked down at her. "Men talk too, sweetie."

She pouted, wrapping her arms around him, her chin resting comfortably on his chest. "I didn't know you and him were buddy-buddies."

"We are not," he was quick to refuse, as if the mere thought of it was repulsive. "We have just come to an understanding."

"An understanding?"

"As men." he nodded.

"As men," she mocked, jabbing her index finger at his side, making him gasp. "Does he have a new years date?!" Y/N became excited, she always wanted to see Zayne in a relationship, but the man was always so busy with his hospital work.

Sylus glared at her, clasping her hand on his firmly, his smirk widening on his lips. "I find it funny, how excited you seem to see if another man brought some-"

"Shh!" she shushed him, having the audacity to look annoyed as she placed her finger on his lips, silencing him. "Don't even start with the whole jealousy thing. He's one of my best friends, I just want him to be happy."

Sylus couldn't help it, he kissed her finger gently, before nibbling on the skin with a content sigh, his hands traveling down her arms to tag her closer, relishing the gasp that escaped from her pretty mouth.

"Does he know that. hm?" His fingers danced over her shoulders, touch featherlike, testing her own resolve.

"Yes," Y/N said firmly. "Don't enunciate otherwise. We are good friends to each other. You should try being one too."

Sylus chuckled, his entire being dripping with amusement. "Oh, I'm an excellent friend," he leaned in, lips brushing her temple. "Especially for you, kitten."

Y/N closed her eyes, eyebrows furrowing in slight contempt. "I don't like it when you get like this."

His head dipped even closer than before, their nose almost brushing against each other. "What? Jealous?" He chuckled. "You are mine, after all, and I become nothing but just a man when it comes to you." He tilted his head, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to the soft skin of her cheek. "Besides... I know you like me like this."

She felt her face warming up, a shaky laugh escaping her lips. "You're incorrigible, and insane, and you have absolutely nothing to be jealous of," she reached out to cup his face lovingly, brushing her thumb over the flushed apple of his cheek. "The one I adore is you."

And that was all he needed to hear for his being to relax. His crimson eyes softened, glistening softly under the christimas lights. His breath hitched on his throat, lips darting out to lick his suddenly dry lips. He chuckled lowly, leaning to her touch, nuzzling to her warm hand. He could feel his heart beating wildly against his chest, tightening almost painfully.

So that's what it feels like, loving someone unconditionally.

"Bad kitten," he breathed out, closing his eyes as he inhaled that sweet scent of yours from inside your wrist. "You always know how to push my buttons."

Y/N felt her own heart skip a beat, and she couldn't help herself when she stepped even closer to him, tilting his head towards her. She rose on her tiptoes and kissed his chin, reveling the sound of his small and almost quiet surprised gasp. She wrapped her arms around him and jumped up, placing a quick kiss on his lips.

She almost giggled at how lovestruck he looked, but she knows she mustn't look much different either.

Sylus sighed, a loving smile appearing on his face as he leaned down, capturing Y/N's lips with his own. He stayed right then and there, relishing the feeling of the soft plump skin, of the way her sighs spurred him on even more, and the way she cradled his head in her hands, as if he was her most precious treasure.

Sylus never felt more loved before.

It was a foreign feeling, before she came waltzing into his life like a thunderstorm.

"Alright guys, only one minute left!" Tara banged on the door, knowing very well to not go into places where couples reside. She learned her lesson back in the hospital, when she visited Dr. Greyson. Zayne walking in on them should be a picture posted in history books.

Y/N sighed, parting away from him slowly, almost reluctantly. Sylus wasn't done with her though, for his head dipped down to leave a trail of fire down her neck, making her hum in pleasure.

"Come on, my big bad wolf, we're going to miss the fireworks," she huffed out a laugh, taking a step back and grasping his hand, tugging him towards the other side of the house.

"10!"

If someone told her she would be dating the leader of a criminal organisation a year ago, she would have laughed right in their face.

"9!"

If someone told him he would fall in love with a hunter, the very people who chase after him to put him behind bars, he would have called you delusional.

"8!"

Yet they were here.

"7!"

Bound by duty, like a contract at first, trying to outplan one another. Hating each other guts.

"6!"

Yet they still fell in love, somewhere in the way.

"5!"

They don't know when it happened, maybe it was that cold november night, not even a month after they met.

"4!"

Maybe it was when they first kissed. Or was it when they almost lost each other at the hands of death?

"3!"

"Sylus?"

"2!"

"Hm?"

"1!"

"I love you, darling."

"Happy New Year!"

She saw the way his lips parted, before a brilliant smile graced his features. He was gentle, and tender, and warm and loving. It made fall in love with him all over again. It made her mad, almost obsessed.

"I love you too, my love," he whispered in her ear, placing a loving kiss on the side of her forehead, eyebrows furrowing in subtle longing.

Y/N sighed, and fell into his warm embrace.

A/N: I hope you guys like this new years special! I loved tapping into Sylus jealousy, because I don't find him as someone who will easily get jealous like Xavier, but he can definitely feel it as subtle as it was. Plus, I think out of all the LI's, he would probably be more alert about Zayne, especially considering his history with us.

Happy new years, Sylus girlies!

── ❀˖°🫐₊ ⊹ blueberry ᡣ𐭩

[diorcities]

with you (teaser)

spiderverse chronicles. haechan x reader, mark x reader genre fluff, action, mature content content spiderman au, enemies to lovers, friends to lovers, selective mutism, sign language, smut (not in the teaser) more tba teaser wc 1.5k full fic est. 20k

an: since i'm making progress on the story (shocking) i'll share a little teaser. the past few days i've consumed a lot of spiderman content, it's not funny anymore. it was a sign of the times. i'm so excited to write this. happy reading ♡

description: after a catastrophic scientific explosion, chaos is unleashed in new york. a deaf girl must face the city that she once knew now submerged in a mayhem, pairing with a daily bugle intern to try to solve the mystery when one of the many affected with extraordinary abilities seems to have a duplicity between good and evil.

he can sense you're there.

just moments ago he had swept the area, now, he looks intently at the boxes loaded into the helicopter.

“planning on stealing the moon tonight?” he's growing bored. “you guys aren't elusive at all, you should practice a little at that.”

the ambiguity of his own reaction puzzles him. there was no hurry in his movements, nor the usual tension. instead, there was a deliberate pause, and this unbearable boredom.

he's quick to deflect a couple of bullets; it comes out spontaneously now. all his senses are enriched. everything vibrates. everything sings. he's sneaky instead of a fighter. and he's also fond to make jokes at inopportune times.

“isn't this labor exploitation?” he inquires. “i hope you get paid overtime,” he says again when in response, a dozen men point their guns at him. he reacts shooting his hands upwards.

“easy, i'm your friendly neighbor.” a man turns to him. the big fish. “oh, my bad, i mistook you for some lookalike with a bunch of small yellow people.” he also doesn't miss the opportunity to make an emphasis on his size.

wilson kingpin snorts, annoyed. “after months, i'd think you'd stop acting like a kid.”

“i am a kid.” he chuckles, removing the mask.

there was no point in hiding his identity when the old crow knew who he was from the very beginning, though it also made him a prospect for his tasteless jokes.

he takes a look at the containers when the man turns his back at him and shout instructions. “nano-technology prototypes...” his voice comes out in an interrogatory tone, sniffing through the large box.

the man in charge sees him snooping around when he speaks. “are you interested?”

“they wouldn't hurt,” he replies, distracted; something stirs inside him when you move closer.

“take a few, see if you put it to good use.” he sneers and he mimics him, nonchalantly.

he's pretty quick and elusive. skills, he guesses, his best traits; but even though, he might need some; he's been doing alchemy lately, so he grabs two and when the man looks away, grabs a few more. he can put good use to that kind of technology. “any other tasks you need me to do?”

he bristles when the man smiles, agreeing; he's been waiting for the moment. doing silly tasks, dirty work. finally he was getting closer to get what he wants. “yes. why don't you take care of that little reporter mouse?”

fisk goes back to his job as if he's bored, and his lips tighten into a grimace that he already knows, making him take care of you.

“was this what you wanted, to steal technology?” you ask to the wind. the men hardly pay attention to you, but he does.

he must acknowledge that you have guts even though fisk is giving you a window because you don't pose a threat. not because of his size, but because of his influence.

“what's in the boxes?”

“as if i were going to tell you.” he mocks, hiding behind the mask. “why don't you cover tonight's weather instead, family of murderers?” he sees you freeze. “why don't you leave these matters to us and you take care of yours? seems like you're in deep shit,” he says, taking one step closer.

when you realize it, he's in front of you and you have nowhere to run. yet your feet recede to the edge. “mmm? don't test your luck and stay out of it.”

he gives you recognition that you don't look even a little intimidated. “who are you?”

his smile almost reach his eyes, “as if i were going to tell you,” he repeats, morbid.

fisk growls behind you, and something dark spreads on his gut, “get done with it, bug.”

he does what he says. first, he steals it from you in one move. and you're not quick to protest when his hands half-push you and your feet stumble. doing silly tasks, dirty work. one more thing and it will end.

nevertheless, getting rid of you is hard for him.

your hands try to hold on but he pulls away, so you fall into nothing.

like a bullet, he watches you fall, waiting. and when a blue boost barely flashes around you, he moves away from the edge. afterward, you just fall into new york.

[yelenasdiary]

hiiii

request? yelena or florence (same tbh, you can choose) x reader, a little bit of angst but with an happy ending? and maybe fluff somewhere?

one shot that revolves around the phrase "I fell for you before I even knew it myself"maybe?? i dunno lol

Together

Pairing: Florence Pugh x GN! Reader

Summary: Afternoon tea soon becomes a cafe of confessions.

Angst & Fluff

Warnings: None, if there is any, please let me know | 1.3K

AC: Thank you for sending this, I hope you enjoy! x

The rain ran softly down the window of the small café where you and Florence often spent your afternoons. The smell of freshly brewed coffee wrapped around you like a comforting blanket as you sat across from her, your fingers tracing the rim of your mug, your heart beating with different emotions. It was no secret that you and Florence had grown closer over time, the late-night talks to the shared secrets to the little gestures of kindness made you terrified of ruining the beautiful friendship you had built with the actress. 

Florence was telling you all about the new script she had gotten only a few days ago, you could see her excitement for the new role well beyond her words. She spoke her with her hands but you heard more from the look in her eyes with the way they sparkled with passion, it almost made it hard for you to focus on anything else. But underneath the proud smile you had dancing on your lips, you were struggling with a secret you’d been pushing down for weeks. 

But after all that talk and excitement about her new role, her eyes shifted to the widow and within seconds she seemed miles away. 

“Flo?” You said softly, catching her attention, “is everything okay?” You asked once she locked eyes with you. She nodded, “Sorry love, I’ve noticed I’ve been having more of these moments more than usual” she said, her eyes glistening with unspoken words. You frowned slightly, “you know you can talk to me about anything, right?” 

A small smile tugged at her lips, “I know, it’s just sometimes, it’s harder to share things than it is to keep it buried” 

Reaching for her hand, you felt the coolness of her skin against your fingertips, “there’s nothing you can’t share with me, whatever you say will always stay between us” you assured her. Florence sighed before taking deep breath that seemed to release some of the weight she was carrying, “have you ever had feelings for somebody you’re close with but you spend almost every night tossing and turning wondering if you were to tell them would it ruining things or would it be something beautiful?” 

Your heart began to race at her words, you had been dancing around with the idea of your feelings for Florence in your mind for a while now, completely unsure if she would ever feel the same for you. With her business lifestyle and your own job playing a part in the cons list, you were sure that your feelings were no more than a simple crush and that eventually they would fade away. “Uh, yeah” you replied, questioning yourself if you’d ever be brave enough to tell her how much she meant to you. “I have, I think we all have” you added. 

Florence nodded, looking down at your hand clenching around the mug in your hands, “did you ever tell them?” She asked before her eyes found yours once more. You shook your head, “The fear was too much for me, I was too scared of rejection or worse, ruining what I have with them” you told her. 

“Them?” The blonde questioned, “so you’re still friends with them?”

“I am” you replied unsure as to how her question felt like both a confession and a knife driving into your heart, she wasn’t talking about you, surely. 

“Do you regret not telling them?” Her next question followed. You took a moment to take a sip of your warm drink, using those brief moments to think of the right words to say. “Sometimes I do and sometimes I’m glad I haven’t”

Florence smiled ever so softly, “Maybe I should just let things be” she said with a lit sigh. You saw the way a bit of hope disappeared from her eyes and you hated thinking maybe that was your fault, maybe you didn’t give her the best answers.

“But hey” you started, “you’re a lot braver than I am” you added with a smile. “You can’t tell me that you can go to all those red carpets and put on some out of this world acting but you’re too scared to tell somebody how you feel? I think you should tell them, I mean, whoever it is, they’re lucky to have your attention and besides, what do you have to lose?” You added. 

She took a generous sip of her hot tea before looking at you once again, “it might some as a surprise, but this feeling of fear is a lot bigger than the nerves I have ever felt doing my job” she started, “I have this deep fear of ruining what we already have…. what if they don’t feel the same? I know it’s a risk to take but if it ruins things, I don’t think I would ever be able to forgive myself” she continued.

Her vulnerability hung in the air like a thick mist as you leaned closer to her, wanting to close the gap of fear and courage. “But what if they do? What if they feel something strong but are also too scared to say anything?” 

Florence chewed at her bottom lip lightly while she contemplated the words that you spoke softly to her. You’d never seen her this shy and nervous before and while it started to dawn on you a little that whoever it was had captured the heart of the same person who made you feel like a teenager having their first crush. 

“I guess there was a real reason I called you this morning” she spoke, breaking the brief moment of silence between you both. Your eyes quickly shifted, hating that she was even bringing it up. “The last time we saw one another, I want to apologise for how I acted” she added. 

“Flo, it’s fine, honestly” you assured her, leaning back in your seat. 

“It’s not, I know I hurt you and I never meant to. I’ve always kept my emotions in check, but I have no excuse for snapping at you like I did. I thought if I could play it safe and push you away, I could convince myself it was easier that way” 

“What exactly were you trying to make easier?” You asked. 

“My feelings” Florence replied, her eyes locking onto yours again. Your heart skipped a beat as you discreetly pinched yourself under the table to assure yourself you weren’t dreaming. “These past few weeks, I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you and it made me realised that I fell for you before I even know it myself” she continued in a soft and sweet tone. 

Suddenly the world around you became a blur, all you could see was Florence sitting in front of you, the natural loudness of the café faded to nothing but a faint background noise as you listened to Florence open her heart, spewing her feelings onto the table at your hands. 

“I cherish our friendship more than you know which is why I had to take a step back. Every moment I spent with you, I just felt I was losing myself to you, my heart was completely drawn to you and I was terrified if I said anything that it would ruin what we already have” 

“F-Florence…” You struggled to find the right words, your heart skipping a beat with every breath you took, your stomach turning inside out just knowing that the person who captured Florence’s heart was you. 

“It’s okay, you don’t have to say anything, I completely understand if this has come as a surprise and you probably don’t eve-“

“I’ve felt the same way for such a long time” you cut her off, the words flying out of your mouth. 

“Really?” Her voice softened with a mixture of hope.

“Really” you smiled softly. 

Florence reached for your hands, giving them a lit squeeze, “I don’t want to lose this, I can’t imagine my without you, even as a friends” she said in an almost whisper.

“Neither do I” you said, leaning forward, “let’s take it slow, together” you added, your forehead resting against hers as her smile grew. 

“Together” she whispered.

Taglist: @noturlondonboy | @umadirectioner | @deathbylesbianwitches | @yelenaslyubov | @boredandneedfanfics | @twentyonetornmyheart | @red1culous | @charlothee | 

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[filmtv2022]

Part III: Our Time is Limited (18+)

Part II

Pairing: Geta x Reader (Romantic) & Platonic!Caracalla x Reader

Synopsis: Fighting back worry, Reader reveals their concerns about Acacius and Lucilla. In the dark of night, Geta & Reader find solace from the weight of the world in each other, even if the reprieve is temporary. The struggles of the empire are only part of the obstacles that move to keep Geta & Reader apart. Caracalla's illness rears its ugly head proving to Geta that protecting the ones he cares about most may not be a possibility, throwing him closer to the edge of despair and desperation.

Warnings: smut/sexual activity + drug use + violence

A/N: Oof am I excited about this installment of the story! These three have my whole heart and I'm beyond grateful to those of you who are joining me on the journey of telling this story. Some of this will continue to follow canon, but I haven't fully decided how the story will end... therefore if things diverge... don't be surprised. I'm letting these characters dictate where the story goes within the realm of my planning. And as always, please forgive me for any and all mistakes!

** I will start working on the next part soon, but work is picking up for me in the next few days. So I apologize if it takes a bit longer to get part four out!

------------------------------

The cool stone was in stark contrast to the humidity and heat that rose through the heavy air. Steam clouded your vision, marking the water's surface in swirling patterns not unlike the constellations in the night sky. Trusting your knowledge of the room, you tracked through the dark with expertly placed steps avoiding the slippery spots and sharp edges. Barefoot and clad only in the robe Caracalla had discarded before slipping into bed, your mind wandered to the events that had unfolded just hours earlier. 

You dipped your toe into the farthest bath. Warmth radiated up the length of your calf enticing you to sink into its depths. More than ready to shed the tension in your muscles and the ache of your cheek, you plucked at the knot around your waist. The heavy fabric fell off the slope of your shoulder, exposing your skin to the air. Letting it drop to the floor, you kept a firm grasp on the smoking bundle in your hand. Inhaling deeply, you allowed the medicine to sit in your lungs easing the pain and dulling your mind. 

Alone, you stood exposed to the empty space. For a moment, the haze over the water cleared revealing your reflection. Here, hidden from prying eyes you were free to map the passage of time. Youth remained in the pleasant curve of your chest and hips, and yet your eyes… they were no longer the bright windows to your former self. Tired, and anxious, you stepped carefully into the bath. Sinking down on the ledge beneath the surface, the water washed in choppy waves. 

Covered to the top of your chest, you brought the furl of dried flora to your nose once more. The foggy weight of the opium and devil’s breath wafted around you, smoothing your senses. Lost to their powerful hold, you almost missed the emperor’s approach. Geta stood beside you, admiring the glimpses of your skin. 

“You’re late.” Your head lolled to the side to look at him. The makeup he’d worn earlier had been wiped clean apart from the smudge of scarlet that painted the fatigued skin beneath his eyes. Dressed down from what he’d worn during the day, rings still adorned nearly every finger. Their stunning jewels glowed in the dim flickering torchlight that danced about the room. 

“And you are… relaxed.” Geta smiled down at you, amused with just how far gone you were. Standing beside the pool, he twisted the ring on his pinky, an anxious habit he’d picked up in his youth. 

“And I’d be better if you were in here with me. Do you intend only to watch or join?” Your eyelids fluttered as you struggled to focus your vision under the influence. The deep fortifying breath you took filled your lungs with moist air and the murky lull of the opium. The pain had long since ceased and yet you continued to partake, the blend doing wonders to ease the nervous jumble of your mind. Unburdened, your free hand slid beneath the surface, teasing your pebbled nipples before dipping between your thighs. 

Under the watchful gaze of emperor Geta, you allowed your eyelids to close, blocking out the rest of the world, focusing on the brush of your fingertips along your core. In your self-imposed darkness, you listened to the muted thump of clothing being discarded beside you. Geta’s robes pooled at his feet leaving him bare and in search of the water’s pleasant heat. With care, he stepped in to join you, the waves lapped harder at the sides as his weight upset the balance. Ripples crashed upon you, marking his approach, but it was the sensation of his presence surrounding you that snapped reality into place. 

Geta’s broad palms came to rest on either side of your head, leaning his weight into his elbows so that mere centimeters separated you. Mesmerized by his beauty, you reached for him, mapping the planes of his chest with your fingertips so that glistening trails reflected back at you. 

“You’re late.” You repeated, this time the plush of his lips brushed yours as you spoke.

“As you’ve mentioned,” Geta smirked into the kiss. The velvet of his tongue exploring yours added fuel to the fire stirring within. Just as he felt you lean forward, chasing more, he pulled back earning a pitiful whimper. “Can you find forgiveness within?” 

“Perhaps.” Emboldened and consumed with need, you tossed away the bundle, its flame extinguishing in the puddle beside your discarded clothes. Entirely free, you ran an eager hand along the soft expanse of his stomach, teasing your way closer to where you knew he desired your touch the most. A sharp inhale tumbled into a choking gasp as you reached for him beneath the surface. Geta was half hard in your hand as you rolled your wrist, passing the width of your thumb over the tip and sealing the rest of the words in his lungs. Swift and gentle, you pushed against his chest, leading him across the bath to rest on the far ledge. Enveloped by steam and the feeling of your hands upon him, Geta’s head tipped back bumping lightly upon the stone. 

From this vantage point, it was impossible not to lose your senses in the delicious features of the man before you. His shoulders heaved, shuttering at your steady grip along the length of his cock. Trusting you completely, Geta’s jaw fell slack, his eyes squeezed shut, blocking out everything besides you. The thick bands of gold wrapped around his fingers bit into your waist as he pulled you closer, forcing you to balance with a knee upon the ledge beside him, your other thigh resting between his spread legs. The hand at your waist held tight while the other kept him from slipping, his hips raising to meet you, desperate for more. 

“Is this what you desire, Geta?” You whisper along the shell of his ear, timing your question with the twist of your hand. A greedy smirk wrapped around the rest of your thought. “Tell me what you want.” 

“You.” Geta’s eyes snapped open, and the dark of his pupils was blown wide, showing the depth of the lust that consumed him. Using all his strength, Gets hauled you into his lap, your lush thighs pressed along the outside of his own. In one fluid motion, the breadth of his hand fell to the base of your throat feather-light over the bruises that marred your skin, while you hastily sunk down on him. Swallowing each other’s moans, Geta devoured you in a heated kiss. Unsteady, you reached for his shoulders, using him as an anchor. 

Devoid of any thought but the storm of pleasure that continued to build, crackling in lightning strikes across every nerve in your body. The pair of you were in perfect harmony, his body moved in unerring time with your own. Leaning back, Geta pursued you, dropping his hand from your throat to lay a line of fire down the column of your neck, traversing the swell of your breasts above the water. 

Focused entirely on you, Geta groaned as your velvet walls fluttered around him. His free hand came between you, laying expertly placed brushes on your clit. The swirl of your hips faltered as did his own. The pair of you worked each other over the edge, the sound of unhindered moans echoed through the room before giving way to shaky breathes. Boneless, and weak, Geta’s strong arms wrapped around you, holding you to his chest. Exhausted, he buried his face into the side of your neck. 

“Mine… you’re mine. Always.” You could feel the ghost of his words drift over your flushed skin as he spoke. His confession twisted the knot in your stomach, for you knew it was the truth you both desired, but not the reality that existed. For as long as Caracalla lived, this was all you and Geta could ever be, lovers in the night, shrouded in shadow and hidden from the world. 

“Yours… but only so far as the night allows.” At the sound of your voice, Geta sat back to look at you.

“Only so far as the night allows… though I’ll gladly take what the gods permit.” His response was met with a half smile from you. Geta studied the bleary look that remained in your eyes from the opium and devil’s breath. Even held captive to the influence of the medicine, the worry and fear from earlier at the arena returned. 

“What if the gods have abandoned us?” You murmured, pressing the pad of your thumb along the expanse of his lower lip.

“Where is this coming from?” His head cocked to the side, the scared boy returning in full force at the look on your face. “You promised a confession… that you’d tell me the concern which occupies your mind. You have my ear.” 

“I did, yes. I just… I do not know if what I speak is truth or the anxieties of a mind on edge.” You admitted sheepishly. 

“It matters not. It weighs upon you, and you mustn’t carry this burden alone.” Geta’s wide eyes looked up at you, encouraging you to share the concerns of your heart with him, to trust him in a way that no other had ever dared. For there were many who gossiped to and confided in him as an act, but never had another trusted him with their innermost contemplations. 

“It’s the General and his wife… there is something afoot with the pair of them. The way he spoke before the crowd today… Those were not the words of one loyal to Rome or you. And Lucilla… you should have seen her face when that gladiator stepped into the arena. It was as if the world fell away.” Taking a shaky breath, you reached for him, pulling his brow to rest on yours. “There’s something wrong there, Geta. You must be cautious. I need you safe, both of you.” 

“Acacius… and…” He looked past you, dropping his countenance so that he could stare into the abyss beyond. 

“Lucilla, yes," You repeated hesitantly.

“But they are…” The tremble in his hands radiated over your body as he clung to you.

“Meant to be your closest allies, I know.” 

“It cannot be true.” Geta’s voice cracked, the thoughts catching on the barbs that constricted his throat. Not wanting to lose him entirely, you held his face between your palms, your thumbs sweeping in tender arcs across his cheekbones. 

“And I hope that it isn’t, in earnest I do, but until you know for certain I pray you to keep a weather eye upon them. For I am uncertain where their true loyalties reside.” A shallow nod marked his comprehension. “You know I would not speak of this unless I believed there to be at least a thread of truth in it. Geta, you and Caracalla… you are my priorities.” 

“I know.” Words failed him. Desperate for you to know how sincerely he understood, Geta’s lips met yours. With careful hands, he fastened his hold on you, gripping tight to the back of your thighs as he lifted you to sit on the edge of the bath. The temperature change sent gooseflesh rushing over your skin, causing you to shiver, though the discomfort was short-lived. Geta followed you to the side, his hands skimming from your ankle to the bend of your knee allowing him to see the sway of pleasure at his touch before reaching for your robe. Standing to his full height, but still within the water, he swept the flowing garment over one of your shoulders. Together you threaded your arms through the holes, letting it drape behind you. Satisfied that you were protected well enough, Geta exited the steaming bath. 

Bent at the waist, he reached for his own robe. The bright carmine of the fabric was beautiful against his skin as he donned the cover. Not wanting to slip on the damp stone, you stood at a snail's pace and made your way to him. You grabbed for the ties he held in his hands while yours remained unfastened. Geta relinquished his hold without question allowing you to methodically form the knot. 

“Take me to bed, Emperor. For tonight I am yours alone. Let no fear of the future keep you from me and I shall do the same.” Tugging lightly, you felt Geta pitch toward you, his hands finding your frame to keep from tumbling further. The tip of his tongue wet his bottom lip in contemplation. 

“As you wish.” Geta deftly closed your covering, tying it loosely before reaching for your hand. His own quivered, painting a picture of the tremulous hold he had upon his nerves. On instinct, he guided you both back to his chambers. The journey was short and uneventful, only the two guards beside his door remained awake at this time of night. 

Back in the relative safety of his room, the pair of you undressed and fell into the comfortable plushness of the bed. Already spent from the night’s previous endeavors,  Geta curled into you, his strong arm protective around your middle, holding you flush with his chest. The emperor’s distant stare sat buried in your shoulder, and with each mellowing breath, he inhaled the scent of you and attempted to let go of his thoughts.  You didn’t need to see his watery eyes to know his struggle. Threading your fingers with his, you willed peace upon him, hoping that sleep would overtake him soon and relieve the pain and worry. 

A new day broke over the imperial palace. Within hours a hectic flurry of action would overtake the relative calm of the early morning, but for now, a tenuous peace remained. Geta, still free from the perils of the waking world, did not so much as stir as you gingerly pulled yourself from his arms. Dressing quickly, you found your way back to Caracalla much the same as the day before. The dull ache from your wound had returned with the absence of the opium’s presence in your system. At the back of your mind, you noted the itch to reach for more, to pull from the supply that sat ever present in Caracalla’s chambers. To your better judgment, you ignored the desire. 

Sunlight trickled into the vast room, not yet strong enough to illuminate the space in full. Heaped upon the bed, Caracalla lay tangled beneath the sheets, his bare chest milky white apart from the marks that littered his otherwise perfect skin. Dundus’s elated chirp announced your arrival. The tiny creature picked its way across the table, seeking attention and affection. Dressed in clothing fit for an emperor, Caracalla’s faithful pet and companion lept from the back of the chair he’d crawl on to get closer to you, landing upon your shoulder. Tiny hands plucked at your clothes, tickling the exposed skin at your neck. 

“Good morning, my little friend. Thank you for keeping him company.” You collected a piece of fruit from the nearby bowl and handed it to Dundus who happily accepted the gift. Like this, you made your way to Caracalla. The young man stirred in his sleep, more aware of you than you’d previously thought. At the side of the bed, the faithful animal departed, scurrying off in another direction as you pulled back the covers to join the emperor. 

“Where did you go? I woke and could not find you.” The groggy croak of his voice caught you off guard. 

“I know, forgive me.” You tucked yourself into his side, your head resting on his chest, hiding your face from him. “But I am here now.” 

“I do not like it when you are gone. I am lost.” His confession was barely more than a whisper, so low you were uncertain whether he meant for you to hear it. The bridge of your nose burned, the guilt of leaving him behind was always present, but hearing him speak candidly… it hurt more than you were prepared to handle. 

“I am never truly gone, Calla. You can always find me, here, even in the dark.” You pressed the width of your palm to the place above his heart. Caracalla’s hand came to rest on top of yours, keeping you close without asking for more. Silence descended upon you both, leaving far too much room for your mind to spin. Like this you waged war with your thoughts, counting away the minutes until the sun rose fully above the horizon. 

Almost done dressing, you ran your hands over the pleats in your stola, fixing them in place. The black and gold swirled together impeccably, fierce and sharp. Caracalla’s unassuming frame came into view beside you dressed in matching attire. Your gaze fixed on the mirror before you assessing the picture of unity the pair of you presented, but the look in the emperor’s eyes faltered the rhythm of your heart. Turning to face him, you noted the absent feel of his gaze. It was as though you barely existed in his current reality. 

Caracalla reached for you, his slender arm extended weakly, just close enough for his fingertips to brush the gold inlay of your clothing. His touch wandered haphazardly over your stomach to the curve of your hip, dragging higher and ghosting over your breasts to your collarbone. 

“What are you doing?” You stilled his movement, holding him in place. “Talk to me.” 

You craned your neck trying to look into his eyes again, but nothing came of your request. The emperor remained silent. 

“We should go, your brother is waiting… your public is waiting.” You took a step to his side, floating past him a fraction of a pace before an iron grip clamped around your bicep, ripping you backward. Off balance, you tripped over the flowing cape that draped down your back, smacking into the wall with force. A sharp pain shot through your shoulder causing you to gasp. Flat against the stone, you didn’t have time to think when another blow landed. Caracalla’s nails bit into the tender flesh around your chin, your face held like a vice in his hand.  

“Calla, stop… ” You pleaded knowing it wouldn’t make a bit of difference. You grabbed for his wrist, struggling to speak, “You’re hurting me.”

“You're mine, whore,” was all he uttered, fresh blood trickling down your face as skin tore. The slamming of the chamber doors reverberated powerfully through the room breaking his concentration long enough for you to slip from his grasp. You stumbled forward, arms extended to try and keep from falling. Your knees crashed into the unforgiving ground and rattled your thoughts. A voice called in panicked waves from whomever had entered the room. Distantly, you recognized your name but could not respond. 

As carefully as he could, Geta who had come to collect his brother, lifted you from the ground. Back on your feet, you tried to focus. You felt the strength in your knees give way as Geta wrapped you into his chest. Over the top of your head, he locked eyes with Caracalla. Still trapped in his delusion, Calla started toward the pair of you forcing Geta to bark an order. 

“Macrinus, take her.” He gestured to the silver-haired man behind him whose face was absent of emotion. 

“I’m fine.” You tried to protest, but your argument was shallow given the crack of your voice and the droplets of red that welled like shining jewels from your wounds.

“You’re not.” As gently as he could, Geta passed you to Macrinus who guided you to sit upon a nearby chair. With keen attention still on the brothers behind him, the man pulled a cloth from somewhere deep in the pocket of his robes and handed it to you. 

Across the room, Geta held onto this brother, a hand tense on his shoulder and the side of his head, keeping Caracalla's eyes from drifting toward you. Quietly he whispered, his words not powerful enough to be audible from a distance. But it did not matter, even without them, it was obvious what transpired. The struggle to bring Caracalla back to reality grew more strenuous with every fit that overtook him, each bout taking more time to end than the last. 

The world refocused around you, allowing you to really look at the relative stranger who stood beside you. Mapping his features, you noted the way time had been kind to him, such beauty lingered along with the scattering of lines that shaped his face. As if he could feel eyes upon him, Macrinus’s focus fell to you and it chilled the blood in your veins. A hardness enveloped his being, a calculated focus left his eyes void of life as though everything human about him had died. You stood to meet him, forcing the man to continue to pay attention to you rather than the emperors. 

“Leave us.” You demanded, no longer wishing for his continued company.

“What?” He scoffed in disbelief at your boldness. 

“You heard me. Leave us. Your presence is no longer necessary.” You stepped in front of the man, your hand ghosting closer to the blade strapped to your thigh. Shoulders pulled tight, you cringed at the pain that radiated down your arm, but held firm in place, preventing any ludicrous idea that he might draw closer to Geta and Caracalla.

Macrinus's eyes flicked between you and the brothers. Giving into your request, he raised his hands in resignation, humanity returning to him as he backed up before turning away from the scene. You waited for him to navigate out of sight before returning your attention to the emperors, and it was heartbreaking. Slumped cross-legged on the floor was Caracalla, his head swaying from side to side, Geta knelt before him still holding onto his brother. Tears streamed down Calla’s rosy, pockmarked cheeks. The worst of the spell appeared to have ended leaving behind the childlike shell of the once lucid emperor behind. You knew this version of him intimately. Gone was the violence, replaced by a soul-deep desperation for closeness. 

With cautious steps, not trusting the strength of your legs, you made your way to the pair. Geta chanced a look back at you over his shoulder, his own eyes wet with emotion. As you got closer you attuned your ears to Caracalla’s senseless mumbles, ignoring the warm trickle of crimson down your chin and neck. The words he spoke would have seemed meaningless to an outsider, but they were far from it.

“Lost… lost… I can’t find…” Still muttering under his breath, Caracalla reached for his brother trying to make him understand, but failing to communicate. Stepping into the space next to Geta, you lowered yourself beside him, using his shoulder for support. Your attention was focused entirely on Caracalla, but you could feel Geta’s eyes on you… watching. 

You tested the waters, making contact with the man seated before you, treading lightly with your words, “I’m here. I am not lost.” Calla’s face snapped to yours, and in an instant, he was crawling to you.

His uncoordinated limbs wrapped around you in a fierce embrace. The crown of laurels that decorated his fiery hair pinched uncomfortably at the side of your head as he buried his face in your neck. You could feel him shaking in your arms, sobs wracking his body. Locked together in a never-ending maze of time and memories, you sat back on your heels, twisting to finally sit on the floor. You gripped him tighter as you rocked smoothly from side to side. 

Geta burned to touch you, to hold you, to tend to your hurts and nurse you back to health, and yet, here with his brother, he was trapped. He pleaded with you silently, praying to the gods for forgiveness. He failed to do what he’d promised, keep you safe. The weight of the empire rested on his shoulders, its tenuous balance almost too much to bear. It was never supposed to be this way, him working alone. But all of that paled in comparison to the bone-deep guilt that chipped away at this heart when he looked at you. 

A heavy sigh fell from Geta as he ran a hand over his decorated countenance, wiping away the tears and smudging the color that surrounded his eyes. Sensing his sorrow, you extended a hand, begging for him to take it. For a moment, he hesitated, terrified of needing you and simultaneously petrified at the thought of losing you. With a simple nod, you invited him once more to take your hand, and by the mercy of the gods he did. The weight of his fingers laced with yours seemed to right the injustices of the world, giving you both the strength to carry on.

[intimidating-fettuccine]

Hello Aubrie! Goood, I love your writing so much, and I couldn't wait to send in another request!

Could I ask for Eyeless Jack and his s/o going on a date day? How it would look like and all that? (can be sfw/nsfw)

I decided to keep it just SFW this time as I was just in a fluffy vontent mood today, but you can feel free to request date night specific spicy stuff with EJ next time if you'd like :) I hope you enjoy, I'm extra tired today so my writing may be different but I had a need for EJ fluff

Your date day actually ends up being a date night with this one, as your boyfriend is nocturnal, however, he gets up a bit earlier than normal if the two of you want to spend a "day" together. Normally waking at about 6:00 pm, Jack will get up around 4:00 on a day the two of you wish to spend together. He'll spend a little while waking up, curled up in bed with you, discussing things you want to do, getting ready to go out with you, just waiting for the sun to go down more so Jack can handle being around the light (as he can't handle visibly bright light very well, hence the nocturnal part :p).

He'll make sure you get something yummy to eat for dinner, and that's usually your first spot on your date nights. The Underworld is full of restaurants that operate 24/7, so he'll take you out to eat at whichever place you'd prefer to go to, and you'll both sit and talk for a while over food. Even with the nocturnal citizens out and about, the Underworld is a lot more quiet at night, so Jack enjoys walking through it with you, enjoying the peace of it. The two of you might window shop a bit, going into any stores that catch your eye. I think if it's warm enough you two have a tradition of getting ice cream together, because there are places that serve a mix of demon and human appropriate flavors, so you can get whichever flavor you'd prefer, and EJ can get his go-to blood ice cream so he can enjoy it as well. Following that, Jack always loves taking you for another walk, this time through the forests of the Underworld. The air is nice and fresh, and the creatures running about are usually attracted to Jack, so he always gets excited by the chance to tell you what the different animals are, and because they trust him so much you can even pet them while they sit contentedly beside him.

It's not until either the sun starts coming back up or you start to get too tired that the two of you finally begin to make your way back to the mansion together. Once you get back, Jack normally prefers to enter relaxation mode with you again. You'll take a relaxing shower together, and then put on some perfectly fluffy, soft pajamas (Jack is a connoisseur of comfortable fabrics), and curl up in bed once more. Some nights you guys might put on a show in the background, or some music, or anything you're in the mood to watch and just sit, and cuddle to the background noise. However, there are also nights like tonight, when you snuggle up and read together. It always starts with both of you reading your own preferred books in silence, but then usually one of you grows more tired faster than the other (usually you, as it's generally 5:00 am by this point), and the other person will read their own book aloud for both of you. Days like these generally end with you fast asleep in Jack's arms due to your need for sleep overcoming you, and Jack will always chuckle and set his book aside, before pulling you into his chest, and finally falling asleep himself. You usually always wake before him, unless you sleep the whole day away (sometimes Jack also just refuses to let you out of his arms on purpose but shhhh it's fine, it doesn't matter), but post date day snuggles are also mandatory in this relationship, so really, date days are like two days in one because you've gotta recoup your energy from staying up so late. Even if the two of you just spend a date day curled up inside playing board games or reading, or even just silently snuggling up, Jack doesn't mind, so long as he gets to spend as much time with you as possible, anything is fine in his opinion. He's just thankful to have you there with him.

[gilbertscurls]

tea parties and tiny chefs — matt sturniolo

summary: can you imagine him sitting down and letting your child serve him play pretend food from their mini kitchen?

The late afternoon sun poured through the living room windows, painting the space in warm golden hues. The soft hum of a distant cartoon played on the TV, but it was barely noticeable over the excited clinking of plastic plates and the babble of a very determined little chef.

Matt sat cross-legged on the floor, elbows resting on his knees, watching with an amused smile as your daughter shuffled back and forth from her miniature play kitchen. She wore an oversized chef’s hat—one you were certain was originally white but had been aggressively “decorated” with rainbow markers—and a pink apron tied crookedly around her tiny frame.

“Okay, Mr. Daddy!” she announced, clutching a plastic teacup in one hand and a neon green plate in the other. “Your tea is ready, but it’s really hot, so you gotta blow on it!”

Matt’s lips twitched as he accepted the cup, holding it delicately between two fingers. He made an exaggerated show of blowing over the nonexistent steam, eyebrows raised like this was the most important task he’d ever been assigned.

“Phew, close one,” he said, his voice light with humor. “I almost burned my tongue there. This tea smells amazing, though. Did you steep it for…uh…five hours?”

Your daughter gasped, horrified. “No, silly! You don’t steep tea for five hours. Just three minutes. Everybody knows that.”

From your spot in the doorway, you stifled a laugh behind your hand. Matt caught your eye briefly, his smile softening, before he turned his attention back to his tiny host.

“Right, right. Three minutes. My bad, Chef.”

She nodded in satisfaction before placing the green plate in front of him. On it sat a mismatched assortment of plastic food—a yellow banana, a blue steak, and what looked like a pink cookie.

“This is a very special dinner,” she said with gravity. “You have to eat it all, even the cookie, because it has magic sprinkles.”

“Magic sprinkles? No way.”

“YES way.”

Matt gasped, clutching the plate like it held a priceless treasure. “I’m honored. I can’t believe you’d trust me with such an important cookie.”

Your daughter’s face lit up, her chubby cheeks glowing with pride, and for a moment, your heart swelled at the sight. Matt had always been so good with her—gentle, patient, and endlessly entertaining. It wasn’t just about humoring her; he enjoyed these moments. You could tell by the way he leaned into her imagination, matching her energy beat for beat.

You stepped forward then, joining them on the floor. “Chef, is there any food for me, or am I not on the reservation list?”

Your daughter’s head snapped up, her expression serious. “Oh no, Mommy. You don’t have a reservation. But I can squeeze you in…if you promise to tip well.”

Matt barked out a laugh, clutching the plastic teacup to his chest. “She’s already running a five-star restaurant. Watch out, world.”

The three of you spent the next hour huddled around the tiny kitchen setup, plates and cups being shuffled back and forth, fake vegetables and neon desserts being “devoured” with dramatic flair. Matt never once looked at his phone or seemed distracted. Every ounce of his attention was devoted to your daughter’s world of make-believe.

At one point, as your daughter busied herself “washing” dishes in the little plastic sink, Matt caught your eye again. His smile was softer now, quieter, as if he wanted to say something but couldn’t find the right words.

You leaned closer, your voice barely above a whisper. “You’re really good at this, you know.”

Matt shrugged slightly, but his ears turned pink. “She makes it easy. And…it’s kind of nice to slow down like this. Just…be here.”

You pressed a kiss to his shoulder, your heart full.

Eventually, the little chef announced that the restaurant was closed for the night. With a dramatic yawn, she declared she was far too tired to cook one more thing. Matt scooped her up in one arm and carried her to the couch, where she nestled into his chest without hesitation.

You sat beside them, your head resting on Matt’s shoulder as your daughter’s sleepy breaths evened out.

In the golden light of the fading sun, with the soft weight of your child in Matt’s arms and his steady presence beside you, the world felt still. Peaceful.

And as Matt pressed a kiss to the top of her head, his eyes meeting yours over her sleeping form, he realized that moments like this—the quiet, simple ones—were the ones he’d treasure most.

tag list: @stuwniolo, @sturnobsessedwh0re, @matts-myloverboy, @imjusthereforthesturniolosmut, @lizzymacdonald06, @asherrisrandom, @sturniolowhore69, @faith5drpepper, @emely9274, @psychologyloverfr, @lovetaylorrussellgrr, @conspiracy-ash, @helpimateenagerinlove, @ghostlythinggoingaround, @sturmatt, @chris-hallelujah, @goingtojohnkramershouseee, @wurlibydominicfike, @straw8berry, @shadowthesim, @courta13

[pinterestanddaydreaming]

Chapter 1: A City of Timeless Beauty - Lucius Verus x Reader

Summary: Y/n is a college student in Rome majoring in Roman History and Archaeology with her friends Priya and Alaya. Her mentor offers her the opportunity of a life time, to work at a dig site that could possibly hold the ruins of a Roman emperor's palace. The excavation starts in summer and it would mean that she can not go home to spend it with her family. Will she do it?

Author's Notes: Hey everyone! I know that I have posted a collage earlier for the reader's aesthetic but this collage accompanies this chapter. I personally like to make these to also help myself visualize the things I write about. Please know that y/n does not have to look like the girls in the picture, you can visualize her in any way and form you want to. Another thing, this story will be slow burn and I have not decided what the ending is going to look like so read the series at your own risk. This is my first time writing so the quality itself may not measure up the other very talented writers in this fandom, please know I am working on it!

Warnings: None!! It's just a bunch of girls being smart and lovely! If you hate girls stay away please and thank you! 🤗🙏

The golden hour blanketed Rome in a glow that seemed to blur the line between past and present. The streets buzzed with life, and y/n strolled through them with an air of calm curiosity. Her bag was tucked under her arm, brimming with essential beauty items and notes from her class on the history of Roman politics. She allowed herself a moment to bask in the sounds of the city, the distant hum of traffic mingling with the laughter of tourists and the occasional snatches of conversation in Italian. 

Y/n looked at her wrist. She still had about forty minutes to get to the restaurant where she planned to meet Priya and Alaya for dinner after their classes. Y/n, Priya, and Alaya had grown up together in London, and their business-owner parents were more than happy to let their daughters move to Rome to pursue their passion for studying history and archaeology. 

After nearly a year in Rome with Priya and Alaya, y/n felt at home. She had become familiar with the city and she loved living here. As y/n walked, she thought about the internship offer from Professor Marino, her professor who teaches Archaeological Field Studies. Y/n has been taking the class with Priya and Alaya and they all have gotten close to Marino. She has become a mentor for y/n and she has chosen Marino to be her senior thesis advisor. She is a renowned archaeologist and has been working on finding a royal palace of a Roman emperor for the past ten years.

When y/n talked to her earlier this week, she sounded sure that she had discovered the site for a royal palace. Marino had invited her and her friends to meet her at a local café to discuss an internship opportunity.  

“You see,” Marino began, leaning forward, her cappuccino momentarily forgotten, “this isn’t just any site. I believe we’ve found the remains of the imperial palace of Emperor Lucius Verus—a palace and man we have lost to history and time.”

The warm aroma of coffee and fresh pastries enveloped the small café where Y/N, Priya, and Alaya sat with Professor Marino. The professor, a striking woman in her late forties with sharp features and an air of quiet authority, gestured animatedly as she explained the significance of her latest discovery. 

“Lucius Verus?” Priya asked, her brow furrowing slightly. “He ruled after the mad twin emperors, Geta and Caracalla, right? We don’t have a lot of material culture from the time.”

Marino nodded, a smile curling her lips. “Exactly. And that’s what makes this find so extraordinary. If we can excavate and study this site, we might find details that reshape our understanding of who this man was.” She leaned back in her chair, her eyes gleaming with excitement. “This could rewrite history, ladies.”

Alaya, who had been quietly sipping her espresso, finally spoke. “How sure are you about the location, Professor? I mean, after ten years of searching, it must feel incredible, but what evidence do you have?”

Marino smiled, clearly pleased with the question. “Preliminary scans have revealed a structure consistent with the layout described in ancient texts. We’ve also uncovered fragments of frescoes and inscriptions that point to a residence of significant importance.” She paused for effect, letting the weight of her words sink in. “But we need to confirm it. And that’s where you come in.”

Y/N’s heart skipped a beat. “You’re asking us to join the dig?”

“Not just join,” Marino said, her voice lowering as though sharing a secret. “I want you three to be part of the core team. I am not sugarcoating when I say that you three are the sharpest students I have had in a while. You are all familiar with Roman history and have taken more than enough credits on archaeological field methods. I really think you can get something out of this experience.”

The trio exchanged another glance, excitement buzzing in the air like an unspoken agreement.

Priya leaned forward, her excitement barely contained. “When would this start?”

“Summer,” Marino replied, her expression turning serious. “It’ll be a demanding schedule—early mornings, long hours under the sun, meticulous cataloging. But I promise, it will be worth it. What you learn and contribute could shape your careers.”

The discovery of a potential royal palace sounded exciting to y/n and she has loved spending her summers in Italy. But working at the dig meant postponing her return to London and spending time with her family.

As she turned a corner, a small shop caught her eye. It was sandwiched between two bustling cafés, its entrance almost hidden beneath climbing ivy. The antique shop’s name, "Eterna Treasures," was scrawled in faded gold letters above the door. Y/n hesitated, feeling an inexplicable pull toward it. Her feet seemed to move on their own, and soon she was pushing open the heavy wooden door.

Inside, the shop was dimly lit and smelled faintly of sandalwood. Shelves overflowed with curiosities: ornate goblets, faded maps, and statues worn smooth with age. Behind the counter stood a woman who could only be described as eccentric. Her gray curls were untamed, her dark eyes sharp and knowing, and she wore a patterned shawl draped over her shoulders like a queen surveying her domain.

“Ah, there you are,” the woman said, her lips curling into a sly smile.

Y/n blinked. “Sorry, do I know you?”

The woman waved her hand dismissively. “Not yet. But I know you.”

Y/n laughed awkwardly, taking a small step back toward the door. “That’s… not creepy at all.”

The woman chuckled, a rich sound that filled the tiny shop. “Oh, child, don’t be afraid. I simply have an eye for people, and you, my dear, are no ordinary girl.”

Y/n raised an eyebrow, crossing her arms. “Is that so?”

The woman leaned forward, her voice lowering to a conspiratorial whisper. “You have the face of someone out of place. A beauty so timeless it doesn’t belong in this world. No, you belong in another time. A time when Rome wasn’t just ruins but the beating heart of an empire.”

Y/n tilted her head, unsure whether to laugh or feel unnerved. “Well, I do study history. Maybe you’re picking up on that.”

The woman ignored her, her gaze seeming to pierce straight through y/n. “Such eyes… deep as the Tiber itself. They’ve seen more than you know. And you have a dimple!—ah, men would have crossed oceans for a smile like that. Some might still.” She sighed theatrically. “You could change history, my dear. Bring a man to his knees.”

Y/n stared, caught somewhere between discomfort and fascination. “Okay… that’s very poetic and all, but I’m just a history student. No one is crossing oceans for me.”

The woman snapped her fingers suddenly, her tone shifting to something brisk and businesslike. “Well, never mind all that! Let me show you something.”

She disappeared behind the counter, rummaging through a glass display case. When she resurfaced, she held a small velvet box containing a gold ring and a matching necklace, each adorned with a ruby so vivid it seemed to glow from within.

“These,” the woman declared, her earlier intensity replaced with a saleswoman’s enthusiasm. “These are perfect for you. Look at the craftsmanship! Ancient, regal, and absolutely meant to be yours.”

Y/n hesitated, eyeing the jewelry warily. “They’re beautiful, but I wasn’t really planning to buy anything…”

The woman scoffed, thrusting the box toward y/n. “Nonsense! Try them on. You’ll see.”

Y/n sighed and picked up the ring, slipping it onto her finger. It fit perfectly, the ruby catching the faint light and gleaming like fire. The necklace felt cool and strangely heavy as she clasped it around her neck.

The woman clapped her hands, her grin widening. “See? They were made for you. A perfect match.”

“They’re… nice,” y/n admitted, still unsure. “But I’m not sure I need them.”

“Need?” The woman leaned closer, her voice dropping back into its earlier, cryptic tone. “They aren’t about need. They’re about destiny. Some things find you, not the other way around.”

Y/n frowned. “You’re really good at making this sound ominous, you know that?”

The woman only laughed, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “Ominous? Perhaps. But it's true.”

With a resigned smile, y/n pulled out her wallet. She couldn’t explain why, but she felt compelled to buy the set. Maybe it was the allure of the pieces themselves, or maybe it was the woman’s strange, magnetic energy.

“Thank you,” she said, taking the small bag the woman handed her.

“May they bring you fortune,” the woman replied, her voice soft and enigmatic. As y/n turned to leave, the woman added, almost as an afterthought, “And perhaps… a bit of the past.” 

Y/n paused at the door, glancing back at the woman, who was now humming to herself as she rearranged trinkets on a nearby shelf. Shaking her head, she stepped back into the bustling streets of Rome.

The city was glowing in the last light of day, but y/n couldn’t shake the feeling that something had shifted. The ruby ring felt warm on her finger, and the necklace rested against her chest like a weight she hadn’t noticed before.

Maybe the eccentric woman was right. This wasn’t just simple jewelry.

End of Chapter 1

tags - @bad-grammer

I don't have an official taglist yet! But I can create one if you guys would like, please don't hesitate to reach out to me and let me know if you would like me to either create one or just tag you in the next chapter!

[hayleythesugarbowl]

hiii ive read all your spencer x reader fics and love them sm!! your writing is amazing, you’re so talented 🫶

if you’re up for a request, i was wondering if you could maybe do one with a british reader or an actress/starkid member reader? (or even both in one!! maybe they meet starkid through a show they do in london or something? idk haha)

American Smile || Spencer Agnew x british!reader

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ masterlist • smosh masterlist  ⋆˚｡⋆୨୧⋆

summary: when smosh comes to london to to do a show you also happen to be a part of, you and spencer hit it off

word count: 1.4k

warnings: mild langauge, i’m american so probably inaccurately depicted london/british, shameless taylor swift references i’m just a girl 💌

a/n: OH WE ARE SO BACK ‼️ it’s been a hot minute since i’ve written for smosh (or at all) and i’m happy to be back. i’m so so sorry this request took me so so long to get to love but i hope you enjoy nonetheless! i am not familiar with starkid at all so i just made this british!actress!reader. this was such a perfect little meet-cute idea. enjoy!!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~°~❦~°~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

     “Sorry!”

     You were bumped hard from behind and you turned around to find a very apologetic-looking woman pushing a large cart. 

     “It’s alright, love,” you assured her.

     As she continued past you, you took a moment to look around you. It was a lot to take in. People bustling about, equipment being moved, other people just arriving.

     They had already begun to set up for the event taking place the next day. You had just gotten here yourself. You took a deep breath, feeling the lanyard around your neck between your fingers. 

     Every year, London held a huge comedy event and you were lucky enough to be invited this year. You were staying in a hotel room above the place but you hadn’t seen it yet. 

     The man at the window had told you to come straight backstage of venue so you could be given a tour before you settled in. Truthfully you just wanted to rest after the day or travel you’d had—you didn’t live to far from the city, but still. You felt for the performers who were coming from out of the country. 

      “When do you think they’ll start this bloody tour?” You mumbled to yourself “I’m starving.”

     You looked around you. It looked like many of the performers were already here. It was quite crowded. You saw many people standing together—group acts—and a couple of solo ones—like yourself.

     You were a pretty big local actor—The Times’ words, not yours—and you had dabbled in comedy for the past few years. You were excited to finally show off that side of your skill set here. 

     Finally, a woman a few yards away from you called out, “Alright, if I could get all of the performers in tomorrow’s show over here. We’re going to go ahead and get started.”

     You walked to where she had pointed and joined the rest of the people waiting. 

     “If everyone could follow me—” The woman started, but she was interrupted by the double doors at the back of the room bursting open.

     A large group of people came rushing in to a chorus of “Were here! We’re not late! Don’t start without us! I told Ian we shouldn’t have taken the Underground!”

     You covered your mouth to suppress a laugh. The woman in charge, however, didn’t look as pleased. She walked over to meet them slowly, fixing them with a glare. 

     “I’m assuming you’re Smosh?” She asked the group.

     A few murmurs went trough the room. Smosh? You heard people mutter. 

     “What’s Smosh?” You asked a woman next to you. She couldn’t have been younger than 75. 

     “Oh they’re a hoot, darling, you’ll see,” was all she said. 

     From listening to the people around you, you gathered that they were an American YouTube comedy group that was also participating in this event.

     You watched as they got checked in and as you scanned over them, your eye caught on a man standing towards the back. He was leaning towards the person next to him, hands in his pockets, presumably making a joke based off of the reaction by the other. 

     Then all of a sudden he looked your way and your eyes snapped back to your hands in front of you. You felt your cheeks warm at getting caught staring. But blimey he was bloody gorgeous! 

      Eventually Smosh made their way over to where you were standing and the woman, looking more stressed and disgruntled than ever, addressed the group. 

    “Right,” she’d said, looking pointedly at the late-arrivers. “Now that we’re all here, let’s get this done with, alright?”

     She began leading you on her tour. You were glad to finally get started. 

     “How about all these British people?” A voice to your left said.

     You turned to find the man you’d been watching earlier, leaning towards you conspiratorially. When you didn’t say anything, he continued.

     “They’ve all got their knickers in a twist, eh?” He said in a mock-English accent.

     You raised an eyebrow at him.

     “Oh god, you’re one of the British people aren’t you?” He said, eyes wide.

     You smiled, amused. “I’m afraid so. Although my knickers are perfectly fine, thank you.”

     His eyes widened even more when he heard your accent. “Well then, I think I must’ve set some record because I’ve only been in your country for two hours and I’ve already insulted three locals.”

     “Three?” You questioned.

     “Tried this same bit at airport security,” he confessed. “They were less pleased. Remind me never to show them our Gentleman’s videos. Called me a wanker, which I’m assuming is not good.”

     You giggled. “Not quite. So I hear you’re a comedian?”

     “Can you write my next resume?” He joked. “But yeah, I do comedy stuff. And other stuff. We’re on YouTube—all of us at Smosh.”

     He gestured to the dozen or so other people with him. None of them looked your way though. 

     “And I'm assuming you’re not just here to cater?” He asked you.

     “No, I’m one of the performers,” you answered. “But a pastry does sound lovely right about now.”

     A moment of silence passed and you listened to the woman at the front talk about the history of the building. 

     “I’m Spencer, by the way,” the man said. “Spencer Agnew.”

     You shook his hand. “(Y/n). (Y/n) (Y/l/n).”

     “That’s so normal,” Spencer acknowledged. “I was expecting something more British.”

     “More British?” You repeated.

     “Yeah, I don’t know, like something from Downton Abbey. Dowager Countess Maryanne whatever.”

     “I don’t think you’ve ever seen that show,” you teased. “And you are aware that it’s the 21st century?”

     “Already? How long have I been in this building?”

     You laughed again. He was charming, Spencer. You were so engrossed in talking to him that you were hardly paying attention to the tour. 

     “Hey, what are you doing after this?” Spencer whispered, glancing at the woman giving the tour, probably hoping she didn’t notice him not paying attention.

     Going back to my hotel room, getting some rest and ordering room service, was what you meant to say. What came out was—

     “Nothing. I’m not doing anything.”

     You didn’t know what made you say it. You just knew you wanted to spend more time with Spencer.

     “Me neither,” Spencer said flippantly and you felt your cheeks flame at assuming he wanted to do something with you. Then he cracked a smile. “I’m just kidding. You wanna grab a bite to eat? I’d go myself but I don’t know any of the good spots.”

     “That sounds brilliant, I’m starving.” You nodded.

     “Great. And maybe afterwards you can show me around the city, make sure I don’t offend anyone else.”

     “It’s a date,” you said. “Anything to stop you ruffling more feathers.”

     Spencer smiled brightly at you and you couldn’t help but beam back. You couldn’t wait for your date with Spencer. Even though you had just met him, you were already more excited about an afternoon with him than the actual comedy event. 

     “Hey, I can’t be doing that bad,” Spencer joked. “I did convince the most attractive person in here to go out with me.”

     “Stop it,” you teased, batting his arm. He looked down at where you had touched him.

      “It’s true,” he said, looking shy all of a sudden. “If this is what all British people look like, I’m staying in this country forever.”

     “You’re not half bad yourself,” you told him, hoping he didn’t see your cheeks flush.

     “Very encouraging,” Spencer said. “But I better join my people before they think they lost me. Again. I’ll tell you that story tonight. At eight?”  

     You nodded. “Perfect. I’m looking forward to it.”

     Spencer winked, kissing you lightly on the cheek before backing up. “Later Countess Cute Accent.”

     You giggled, watching him turn around and head back to his friends and coworkers. 

     “Dude,” you heard him say to one of his friends. “I just had a real life, reverse London Boy moment. Taylor said ‘God I love the English’ and I felt that.”

     You smiled. You were only thinking of Spencer as you turned back towards the front of the still-moving group. You still felt the ghost of his kiss on your face, and your heart still pounded inside your chest. You couldn’t wait to get to know him better.

     “And if you look to your left you’ll see the flying buttresses deigned by the late…”

     The guide kept speaking but you weren’t paying attention. 

     Reverse London Boy huh? You thought. Well then, boy I fancy you. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~°~❦~°~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

ˋ°•*⁀➷ hope you enjoyed!! this was so much fun to write 💋

[theorganasolo]

2024 Fic Rec List

I know I'm late (sorry friends) but wanted to do my end of year shout out to my favorite fics I've read! Most of these will be for Javi P because he's my beloved but onward we go!

Learning to Live by @wheresarizona Arizona, bestie, I love love love seeing how much this fic has grown and where you have taken Javi and Cielito over the years. You GET Javi so much and it comes across in your writing, very well. I appreciate every snippet you have texted me about these two - and I treasure our friendship as well <3

It's Never Too Late and Forever and Always by @javierpena-inatacvest MADELINE you have created such an amazing universe with these two stories! As a midwest girly who loves the Blackhawks (even if they suck) and Javier Peña it's so easy to put myself in reader's shoes - thank you for feeding me with the breeding kink in all your fics haha

Hubby and Wife by @notjustjavierpena - I really cherish every update you give in this universe! Every time I go I the javier peña x reader tag and see an update I get so excited! Love seeing Javi get the big family he deserves. I find myself rereading so many of the installments

Worth The Wait by @kteague K I constantly come back to this series so many times, it just hits so good, and I love the latest installment you gave us this year! Love these two so much!

First Anniversary by @wildemaven Heidi I love Poppy and Dieter so much! And this update on the pair of them was so sweet, I LOVE the interview format that you did, it was really unique <3

A Litany of Lethe by @kiwisbell I remember reading this at work at my jaw just dropping over how beautiful it is, you wrote Javi's turmoil SO well here - I really hope you write more for him because you just GET who he is.

Pump by @morallyinept First off let me just say you are SO talented for making this as hot as it is and it actually doesn't have that much smut! I love for the vivd description's of the man's dick so thank you for feeing my horniness

Spiaggia, amore e limone by @thundermartini - You gave me the dream of vacationing with Javi in Italy, this was such a joy to read!!

Firsts and When In Positano by @honeyedmiller You write Javi so so so well! When In Positano sent me to the moon in back with the honeymoon in Italy PLUS the baby making, I remember reading this several times <3

Tastes So Sweet by @jolapeno - When I say this DID THINGS TO ME when I read it (and then reread and reread it). Honestly your whole javi master list is amazing <3

The Hostage by @javier-pena - This was SO good! You really wrote the tension so well in this fic and it inspired me to read News of a Kidnapping. (also I literally am the most annoying in your notes reblogging your javi gifs every day so thanks for putting up with that aha)

Hummingbird Has Landed by @wardenparker Connie I absolutely adore your Soulmate Sunday fics and they really make my Sunday's brighter :) This was so so so fun to read, I loved every aspect of it!

Make Me Sweat by @itsokbbygrl - THIS WAS SO GOOD! The little part about y'all possibly having a baby gave me butterflies

Married Man by @mellowswriting MEL I love your Javi and your writing so so so much! The wedding band kink just GETS ME

Neighbors by @gothcsz When I say this SUCKED ME IN SO FAST, also the angst is literally killing me but you do it so well! Can't wait to see what else is in store here! (also it won't let me link to your story directly so linking to your Masterlist)

Landslide by @frenchiereading - This was so so so cute! I loved seeing Javi with his little family <3

Like Snow on the Beach by @guiltyasdave Combining my two loves of Javier Peña and Taylor Swift. I love the hopeful note this ended on.

Have a Good Night by @punkshort This was such a sweet story and really unique! I loved the flower shop aspect of it all <3

Honey by @yxtkiwiyxt I love the way you write Javi and this was such a fun holiday one shot!

Also want to shout out Maybe Today, Maybe Forever by @hopelikethemoon- Literally in my top 3 Javi fanfics, everyone needs to read this! It's 150 chapters of smut and Javi fluff - the world building is everything

And last but certainly not least a shout out to @manndo for simply being the best <3 - Mel there are literally no words I can put here but I cherish you so much!

[neetily]

hii! so glad to see one of my fav writers back and safe! can i request some soft somno with dom sebastian? tyy <3

this request is so old, i wonder if you still follow me hehe... thank you for waiting for me regardless, this was lovely to return back to writing with! thank you for your kindness <3 !

warnings: somnophilia, dubcon, thigh fucking wc: 2,146

It's not so unusual for him to be up so late at night. Beyond working well into the AM on his clients tedious projects, gaming with friends, and otherwise just existing online, he's usually the last to get into bed on any given night. Not that he minds that fact— part of him secretly loves knowing that at the end of a long and oftentimes stressful night, he's got you to consistently greet him under the sheets. And there's comfort in the mundane, he thinks. Though you may be asleep nine times outta ten, his cheeks always grow warm and his chest always tightens every single time without fail at the sight of you so peaceful, blissfully unaware of his presence as he quietly slips into bed to shuffle closer to you at the urging of his affections.

Moonlight flutters in through the barely drawn curtains, dancing across your snoozing form in such a pretty manner that he struggles with himself not to reach out and cover your cute little face in plentiful kisses. There won't be much moonlight left he imagines, huffing to himself as he checks the time on his phone with squinted eyes: 4:38am.

You'll be awake soon enough for the farm.

Which is fine, really! He knew what he was signing up for when he'd initially accepted your confession, and he'd be hard pressed to complain at the style of life you provide him. It's nice, if a bit taxing.

But oh, how he misses you dearly sometimes.

It's why he so strongly loves these quiet moments with you left unknowing. Hidden away in dream land for him to privately admire and adore upon you. You look so soft and sweet when under the sheets, all curled up and cosy without him. And the slight twinge of jealousy that pangs his full heart almost convinces him to tug the sheets away from your sleeping body to instead wrap himself around your frame— see how good he is at keeping you warm? How much better he is that that raggedy old blanket you refuse to replace?

And yet, he does nothing of the sort. Instead, merely admiring from afar with a dumb puppy smile upon his lips. Eagerly in love with you, consistently desperate to show and spill and sing and shout it at every opportunity he gets.

Even when you're fast asleep and lightly snoring beside him, he still finds you oh so adorable— cute puffy little cheeks, cute messy little bed head.

And as he lays side by side with you, he still misses you. Tenderly, like how a dog waits for its owner to get home. Metaphorical tail wagging behind him at the recognition of just how much he simply loves you. Enough to leave him wanting. A deep burning yearn in his chest at the sight of you laying there so sweetly, so pliantly. Without a single care in the world because you're knocked out cold from a hard days graft on the farm.

... He'd be a fool not to take advantage of that, right?

There have been prior talks of consent regarding his filthy thoughts, though the twitch in his pants could really care less in the moment, he's emboldened to know that you have no qualms with the way he feels tonight. Because he wouldn't want to hurt you, not ever. Including when you're passed out and when he could so easily do so, y'know? He appreciates all the trust you put in him more than anything.

So trust that he'll make you feel good tonight in your dreams too, okay?

It's a selfish thought at the root, though. A need to display his lewd affections for you in secrecy— because it's always hotter in private, right? Like his own little secret; not even shared with you! Tenting in his underwear at the simple thought of taking you unknowingly alone, indulging in his own perversions with the giddy excitement of a dirty virgin.

It doesn't help that you're literally what his wet dreams are made of too.

And it's so easy to convince himself to tug his boxers down. Took no convincing at all really, given the way you sleepily huff and sigh for him, like you can feel his weight on the sheets so close to you; and he hopes you're dreaming of him. Wanting him just as badly too, needy little thing just wants to feel good in her sleep, right? Needs him to look after you, and that's why you're currently crooning for him without realising, right?

Well, far be it for him to ignore his womans cries, thinking with his cock as a pearly bead of precum drips down his tip as if attempting to coax him closer. Not that he needed much convincing in the first place, nervously chewing down on his bottom lip to concentrate just long enough to slide his way closer to your sleeping body—because it's difficult to move fully with his boxers resting at his ankles like shackles—wiggling himself all the way until his tip brushes just gently against your exposed tummy (he briefly thanks the Gods for allowing your top to ride up a little, and for the fact that you're naked below the belt) and he chokes on a moan in response. Swallows it whole in fear of waking you, because while he just loves playing with you when you're awake absolutely, he can't deny the specific sweet edge that toying with the hem of your top when you're none the wiser provides him. Like he's doing something bad, acting out with consent. But the play pretend is enough to leave him more than a little breathless before you, taking shallow breaths so as to not disturb your peace too much, and so that he may selfishly enjoy the look of utter content upon your pretty face as he angles his cock down with a thumb at the base of it, only to gently smear the fat beads of precum you've thus far coaxed out of him against your soft and squishy thighs.

It's just all so exciting. Getting to crawl into bed when the whole town is likely fast asleep; well, perhaps except for Sam, he was just gaming with him moments prior. Shuffling as close as possible to the love of his life in the early hours of the morning, where no one excepts much of anything from him, let alone this. Letting a shaky breath escape him at the shiver that rolls down his spine when he allows his hips to roll against you impatiently... Just a little, like a small tease for himself. But fuck, if you aren't the prettiest thing in the world to him right now... And God, he's missed you so much as of late— been too busy with work himself, and he knows you to be the same.

So you can hardly blame him for getting so excited over relatively nothing tonight, right? Gripping at the base of his cock with his whole fist now as a way to try and release some of the built up tension he's grown in his balls after a few days of not cumming— he wanted to save it for you, y'know? And he's so ready for you tonight, shuddering under the sheets with barely contained excitement to dote on you in the privacy of your dreams.

"Are you asleep?" He whispers at you, suddenly worried with his cock throbbing in his fist that you might, in fact, just be pretending to sleep. And he'd be stuck with the embarrassment of acting like a pervert in front of you in the meantime... Though thankfully, you fail to respond with anything other than a silent sigh. Lips parted just slightly as if to tempt him some more, and oh, he'd love to give you so many kisses right now... Pepper compliments against your lips with smiles and sweet words, praise you for being such a good and obedient little girl in your sleep for him.

But he's lifting your thigh up instead in utter need for you. So fraught with it that he allows his nails to squeeze into the fat of them just a little, selfishly enjoying the meagre wobble in your lips at his small action. And he's so greedy with his touch, just a tad possessive as he juts hit hips forward to let his precum coated tip glide against your lower inner thigh before gently dropping the leg he's lifted mid-air back down into it's original position and— yeah, fuck, that's it—

So soft and tight between your legs, nice and padded and squishy for him to pulse against— and he can almost pretend that it's your cunt given how close his cock is in proximity to it. Riding up against your slit for him to drool precum against. Get you all nice and wet enough with the smallest of humps; and, he's also still a little scared about waking you up. Caught with his pants down, literally. God, could you imagine? Huffing right in front of you, biting his tongue to hold back the moans that want so bad to spill for you, cock tightly lodged between your cushy thighs and— fuck, the absolute state of him right now. So completely whipped for you that all he needs is the simple thought of you to get off, let alone to be currently humping his fat cock between your thighs with more confidence with every stroke, finding it increasingly difficult to withhold his lungs given just how much his tip spills for you. Resulting in such a sweet squelch as he leaves your inner thighs all messy and slicked up; which is perfect for him. Makes it soooo much easier to glide his cock against you, incidentally rocking his cock further against your by now sopping slit with every greedy hump and God. It feels so fucking good to be using you like this.

Like a little toy, tailor made for his own personal and selfish use. Creeping around at night to wait for you to pass out before wagging his cock against you like a bitch in heat. Ah, but he just can't get over himself. Too lost in how nice it feels to faux fuck you in your sleep, debasing your purity one hump against you at a time as he plants and shaky hand on your hip to rock you ever so gently back against his thrusts. As if you were actually reciprocating, but knowing that you aren't is what's hot to him. Being able to manhandle you into inadvertently fucking back against him just to selfishly improve the stimulation he oh so desperately needs so late at night, is hot. Turns him on more than anything to know that you haven't the faintest clue as to how he's touching you, loving you, and needing you right now. So caught by how smitten he is with you that he doesn't realise just how close he is from the minimal amount of petting he's endured until his hips instinctively pick up the pace on their own. Seeking a quick end to the pent up release he's reserved for you, and fuck he's just so close to you now, tugging and pulling on your soft skin while he fucks himself silly between the fat of your thighs, which are unfairly tight with the weight of sleep deep in your body, and yeah, God, right there—

All he can think to himself is that he's happy that you're still fast asleep as he cums embarrassingly fast, no doubt due to holding off for you for just a couple days. Either that, or you're convincingly faking it; he doesn't mind either way. Too busy focusing on how fucking good it feels to be shooting fat ropes between your thighs, milking himself empty in the cool air of the night without a single witness to gaze upon his misdeeds

Good, as it should be.

Just him, lazily humping the remainder of seed from his cum coated cock to let it drip down the back of your legs and onto your sheets in a sheer puddle, he's sure. Just him, and his prettily sleeping girl, who still yet adorns the most innocent of expressions after his lewd display of affection tonight. Just him, letting his cock slip free from your sleepy grip as he starts to soften and can finally relax with a heavy sigh escaping his burning lugs— too many moans held too close to his heart.

And he should really think about cleaning you up right about now, but... There's just something so enticing about leaving you with a sticky mess for the morning, y'know? Like his own perverted version of a surprise.

He's hopeful to wake up to his own when he eventually awakens in the afternoon.

[mysteria157]

We are now in a new year and I’m a few days late with this post but even so, I find myself reflecting on a year of both challenges and growth.

This year taught me about resilience—through losing a lot and taking accountability, through working on my mental health when it felt like everything was falling apart, and somehow still managing to create beautiful memories along the way. Looking back, I'm proud of how far I've come, even on the days when it wasn't easy.

For 2025, I'm setting intentions that feel both exciting and a little scary: I want to focus on building deeper connections. I've always held back in friendships—afraid to seek more, afraid of wanting too much and being disappointed.

Sometimes social media and life can feel like we're all just skimming the surface, and I'm ready to break through that barrier. I’m easily overwhelmed and forget to message. I’ll want to connect, but fear being a burden. I am a loner, it’s true, but for the few that I do let in, I want to not be afraid of that. It’ll be hard, but I think I can do it.

I want to discover new parts of who I am, maybe find a hobby that lights me up, say yes to that one thing that always makes me nervous, or finally take that leap to finish my novel that's been living 9 chapters deep on Scrivener for months.

I'm ready to explore who I am without fear holding me back.

Yes, it can be lonely sometimes, wanting these deeper connections and pursuing self-discovery. But I'm learning that it's okay to want more—from my relationships and from myself. It's okay to take up space, to create, to seek out meaningful things, and to be honest about this journey along the way.

This blog has introduced me to so much. It’s helped me find my voice in my writing. It’s given me so many mooties and friends—writers, artists, readers, etc. It’s reignited my love for storytelling. It’s been such an incredible ride and I cannot wait to see what this year will bring.

Thank you to those who stuck by me. Thank you to those who encourage my debauched thinking lol. Thank you to those who help me realize how exhilarating life can be when I step outside my comfort zone just a little bit around those I trust.

Here's to the memories made, the lessons learned, and all the new chapters waiting to be written—both literally and figuratively. 💕

[icarusflewsworld]

Rhysand & Cassian & Azriel X OC

Hello, here is the chapter 23 of a fanfiction on the world of Acotar where our three favorite Batboys are the mates of a single woman.

TW for this chapters : Violence, blood, vomit. Be careful to what you read not to put yourself in a bad mood. Take care of yourself. ❤️❤️❤️❤️

I hope you'll enjoyed the chapters ! Don't hesitate to tell me what you think about it, please ! Also, I am apologizing again for the late. 

I have exams coming so I think I will not be able to post more than once a week but I will try my best ! The next chapter or chapters will be out on Friday, January 10 ! 

! Don't forget to read the previous chapters ! : Here

Love you all ! ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

Chapter 23

After what seemed like long minutes, Luxiana was finally regaining sensation and control over her senses. "That was incredible," she managed to articulate in a tired voice even inside her skull.

The smiles of the three Illyrians reappeared as they cast tender glances at her. "I want to do it again," she added suddenly with a cute pout. The dark-haired Illyrians lost their smile. Azriel grunted through clenched teeth. He thought she was perfect. Cassian looked up at the ceilling, trying to keep his excitement from exploding. But Rhysand didn't even try to stop what he felt, way too much aroused by what just happened with their mate. He got to his feet, dragging Luxiana with him.

He wanted to wear her, but he couldn't. Not here, not in front of these Fae. If they suspected that he liked Luxiana, they might come after her, and she was only a fragile human. He didn't want to take that risk. He placed her gently on her feet. "Can you walk?" he asked her worriedly.

Luxiana nodded with a gentle smile.

"Great," added Cassian with a seductive air but rapid breathing, "because we're going to have to run to a room so we can make you something a little more... better."

Azriel grabbed Luxiana by the hand to pull her towards the door, and Rhysand and Cassian followed. "We have to leave," Rhys simply justified to the Fae present and to Mor's father.

Keir, feeling unrespected, wasted no time in replying with a grimace of disgust aimed at Rhys. "I didn't expect anything else anyway, you seemed to have a pronounced taste for fucking instead of taking care of your court like the whore you are."

The four of them froze a few steps in front of Mor's father.

Azriel and Cassian were boiling with anger. How dare that filthy rat talk about their brother like that after he had sacrificed himself to save his court. Cassian took a threatening step towards Keir, ready to fight, but Rhysand raised his hand to stop him.

The high lord, though electrocuted t by a mixture of anger, guilt and bad memories tried to keep a cool head. "Let's calm down, it's nothing. It doesn't matter, we mustn't let them understand that it does," he thought to calm them.

Cassian didn't move any further, although he was dying to. Rhysand gave Keir a dark look of warning. "That's because this court isn't worth it. But don't forget who you're talking to Keir, next time you open your mouth without permission, I'll shut it."

Keir gritted his teeth but nodded in resignation before lowering his head.

Rhysand moved to get around him, but Luxiana grabbed him by the arm to stop him. Rhysand turned to face her. Her eyes were wide and her brows furrowed, but a burning rage smoked inside her pupils with such violence that the three Illyrians recoiled at the sight. "Aren't you going to do anything? Are you going to let him talk to you like that?" she asked, almost shouting into Rhys's head.

Rhysant was at first pleased for a second that she felt such anger for him before pulling himself together and replying. "It doesn't matter."

Luxiana released him, dropping her arm limply to her side and lifting her chin. "It does to me." Rhysand widened his eyes but had no time to say anything as Luxiana added, "I guess I'll have to do something myself then."

Without anyone being able to do anything about it, and with lightning speed, Luxiana grabbed Truth Teller out of his scabbard on Azriel's thigh. Then, in the blink of an eye, she stood in front of Keir to thrust her hand into his mouth, grab his tongue, pull it out and slice it at the base with a sharp, precise stab.

Mor's father - who had barely had time to take a step backwards and raise his hands to stop Luxiana - widened his eyes, screaming his head off in pain as he fell to his knees on the floor.

The three Illyrians hiccupped in surprise as they reflexively took a step forward towards Luxiana to protect her, but stopped mid-stride, opening their mouths and eyes wide. They were paralyzed with shock as their pupils focused on their mate, who held Keir's tongue at the top of her fingertips.

A general exclamation of surprise went up in the assembly of Fae, most of whom were clapping their hands over their mouths in fright.

What Luxiana thought was Mor's mother ran closer, shouting Keir's name. Luxiana raised the knife towards her, giving her a cold, creepy look that immobilized the fae from head to toe. "Come any closer and I'll cut your tongue out next."

Mor's mother cast a horrified glance at Rhysand. "Are you going to let her do this?

Rhysand didn't even calculate her, far too surprised by his soulmate's cold, psychopathic expression. He'd never seen her like this and he hadn't even considered for a second that she could do this. Their sweet Luxiana. He blinked several times to compose himself, but the blonde moved.

She tilted her head with a smile, making her look even crazier. "Who do you think gave me the order to do this? I'm only the executor of your lord's orders. So the next time, chew your words before you disrespect Rhysand." Another hiccup of surprise echoed through the room.

The three Illyrians, if that was possible, widened their eyes even more. She'd just said Rhys was controlling her. She was doing all this to save his honor. They couldn't believe it. They couldn't even think straight.

Luxiana laughed wildly. "By the way," she leaned forward towards Keir to run her index and middle fingers under his chin in an attempt to raise his head. The fae glared darkly at her first, then became white as he saw the cold pupils filled with power of the blonde. "You didn't chew your words enough before you spoke..." She brought the tip of Keir's tongue up to his nose. "You must fix that, right ?" She let go of his chin to stand up and vulgarly throw her tongue tip in front of him. "Chew!" she ordered curtly.

"What?" shouted Mor's mother as she took a step forward, but an umpteenth cold look from Luxiana dissuaded her from continuing.

Luxiana returned her eyes to Keir to look at him. "I said chew you fucking tongue and don't make me repeat myself."

A gleam of rage exploded in the fae's eyes. He deployed his power to shatter that pitiful human's neck, but he couldn't do it. His power wasn't working. His power was completely stuck, as if completely asleep. He glanced at his lord. Had he blocked his powers? Yet Rhysand didn't even look at him, just stared at the blonde strangely. Keir wanted to destroy this human. He jumped to his feet, screaming strangely, to throw himself, hand first, at her and snap her neck with his own fingers.

Rhysand, Cassian and Azriel managed to take their eyes off their mate to put them on Keir and when they saw him rise to his feet and lunge at Luxiana, they gasped. The three of them were about to intervene, but before they'd even had time to move a muscle, their Luxiana grabbed one of Keir's wrists, went underneath and went behind him. She gave a swift, sharp kick to his bent knee, forcing him to fall to the ground. Using her grip on his wrist, she pulled him backwards, catched him by the shoulder to deliver a shin kick to his arm, which snapped in two with a horrible sound. Two pieces of bone ended up going out from the skin of the fae's arm, which had taken on an odd angle.

The three Illyrians recoiled in disbelief. What she had just done was a professional fighting technique.

Keir screamed, but Luxiana wasn't done yet -without letting go of his wrist- she grabbed the piece of tongue on the floor and swung it into the mouth of the fae, who cried out in pain with his eyes closed.

Feeling his own tongue in his mouth, the fae widened his eyes and wanted to spit it out, but Luxiana pressed her palm against his jaw to close it savagely and snap his teeth. She locked his lips with her hand while keeping his jaws closed with her index finger and thumb under his chin.

When Keir tried to move and struggle, Luxiana's grip on his wrist twisted his arm a little more, awakening the pain of his broken bone. "Keep moving and I'll break the other arm."

The fae stood still, trembling with fear. Luxiana smiled creepily. "Good, now, chew!" Her voice was cold and filled with disgust and hatred.

The three Illyrians didn't recognize her. 

Azriel was so shocked that he didn't know what to do or how to react. Had she really just done that? Was she really doing this?

Rhysand’s heart was pounding hardly in his chest. The way she talks coldly. The way she seemed so powerful and confident. She was incredibly hot.

Cassian took a step to the side to get a better look at his soulmate's face -on which Keir's red cell had splattered- and his blood migrated back to his penis. She was incredibly sexy. Her gaze was cold, sure, authoritative. She looked strong and powerful. Cassian's eyes lit up and his heart began to beat with admiration in his chest. No, not admiration, love.

Keir pleaded with his eyes, shaking his head in the negative. This answer did not please Luxiana who straightened up and suddenly kicked his forearm with her foot, breaking the bone there this time. The fae screamed as loud as he could with Luxiana's hand over his mouth. "I said chew,"she repeated.

Keir began to cry, trembling all over as he began to chew his own tongue. He vomited several times into his mouth, but he couldn't let anything out because of the blonde's hand clamped to his lips. "Good boy," she smiled. "Now swallow."

Keir swallowed his tongue with difficulty, his body shaking with the contractions of his stomach. Luxiana couldn't hide her smile at the satisfaction she felt. After waiting for a few seconds for his tongue to fall down entirely into his stomach, she released him.

Keir bent over to puke out all his guts, almost choking on his own vomit.

Luxiana took a step back, detailing him from her height. Then when he finished, she grabbed his hair to lift his head toward her. "You'll never disrespect your lord again, will you?"

He nodded in confirmation, tears rolling down his cheeks. Luxiana released him abruptly before straightening up to spin around and shoot all the other faes present with her pupils. "Does anyone have anything else to say about Rhysand?"

They all shook their heads and took several steps backwards. Then, all at once, Luxiana lost her cold, dark and crazy expression. "Great then," she jumped out of joy, smiling sweetly and innocently. She ran slowly towards Azriel -still motionless- to replace Truth Teller in its scabbard. Then she turned to Rhysand to wrap her arms on one of his and pull him out.

Cassian detailed Keir's bleeding body on the floor, grinning through his teeth. He glanced back at Luixiana, who was leading Rhysand to the door. "Woah," he managed to say in their minds. Then he began to follow her cheerfully.

Azriel followed them, walking robotically, staring into space. What had just happened?

They left the room and after a few minutes of walking, Rhysand blinked to compose himself. Realizing everything, he paralyzed, coming to a standstill in one of the long corridors. "What just happened?" he shouted breathlessly, lowering his pupils to Luxiana.

Luxiana wanted to continue pulling Rhysand but he stopped moving and she could feel the other two stop just behind them, giving her the same shocked look that burned her skin. She closed her eyes fiercely as she let go of Rhysand and gritted her teeth. "I'm not going to apologize, okay?" she shouted a little angrily.

She let go of Rhys to take a few steps forward, turning towards them and positioning herself in front of them. She crossed her arms, glowering at the lord. "You're the high lord of the night court, you can't let someone disrespect you like that!"

Rhysand widened his eyes again but Luxiana continued. "You may consider yourself mature and reasonable and kind enough not to react but not me dammit. I'm the exact opposite of that and there was no way I was going to let anyone talk to you like that, Rhys, not after what you've been through under the mountain!"

The blonde, seeing Rhys's surprised expression, thought it was sadness shining in his pupils. She huffed as she calmed down, feeling suddenly guilty and showing it on her face. She made an adorable pout that made the Illyrians hallucinate. Her face was so childlike and different from the one she'd had a few seconds ago in the throne room.

"I'm sorry," she finally mumbled, lowering her eyes as she juggled from one foot to the other. "It's just that I told you I'd protect you and not let anyone talk bad about you since you saved Feyre under the mountain and now I want to protect you too because I like you and I know I couldn't keep my cool but I was so..."

Something exploded in Rhysand's chest, sending vibrations of joy throughout his being and even warming his eyes. He didn't even let her finish her sentence as he cupped his soulmate's face to raise her head to him. "What did you just say?"

Luxiana accentuated her guilty pout when she saw Rhysand's even brighter eyes. She'd hurt him and she didn't mean to. "I said I was sorry and that..."

Rhysand shook his head to interrupt. "No, you said you liked me!"

Luxiana pursed her lips, drawing out her dimples. She looked away for a second, blushing. "Yes.. Why ?" she admitted, not understanding why he was asking her that. Was he going to make fun of her?

Rhysand let out a delighted laugh in one breath before throwing himself on Luxiana to kiss her full on the lips. Luxiana, not expecting it, hiccuped in surprise as she allowed Rhysand to put his tongue into her mouth. She didn't wait to return his kiss, which tickled her to the core.

Rhysand pulled away from her to stare at her with a big smile and eyes shining with playfulness and confidence. "So you like me." Rhysand wanted to jump for joy.

Luxiana bit her tongue as she backed away from his grip and gave him a jaded look.

Azriel came back to reality, shaking his head, his eyes still wide. "Does it surprise anyone but me that she just cut out Keir's tongue and fed it to him after breaking his arm?" he shouted in total shock.

"No, it surprised me too," Cassian said seriously, crossing his arms and then glaring at Luxiana. "But damn, that was sexy."

Luxiana laughed, lowering her head to hide her cheeks. Why was she blushing so much with them?

Azriel moves around Rhys to stand in front of Luxiana. He caught her chin between his thumb and forefinger to plunge a serious, wary gaze into his soul mate's. "How did you do that? You just made a fae eat his own tongue without batting an eyelid."

Luxiana winced, blushing from head to toe. She felt so small and intimidated by Azriel. "Believe it or not," she began in a voice more high-pitched and uncertain than usual, "but, this isn't my first cut tongue and broken arm."

Azriel frowned, prompting him to elaborate. "Well, I worked in a bar. There were bound to be people with inappropriate behavior that I had to correct." She shrugged as if this were normal.

"And where did you learn to do that?" the Illyrian asked, loosening his grip on Luxiana's chin a little, relaxing when he noticed she wasn't lying.

"Keydan explained how to do it and taught me. He wanted me to be able to protect myself if need be."

Azriel understood her sincerity and released her completely, but he couldn't calm his anger. "It was still a dangerous and thoughtless thing to do, Luxiana. I don't know why Keir didn't use his powers, but if had, you could have been hurt or worse, died. Don't ever do that again!"

Luxiana pursed her lips with an apologetic look and a cute, guilty face that made Azriel swallow hard. "Are you angry?" She stepped forward to surround her arms around the master spy's torso and buried her face in his pectoral. Azriel froze for a second, feeling his heart melt entirely as she straightened her head to rest just her chin on his chest and look at him with an adorable pout. "Excuse me," she added.

Azriel's whole body tickled from the inside. He could only calm himself by taking a deep breath. Why was he even angry? He placed a hand on the blonde cheek to lean in and place a long kiss on her lips. Damn it, there was no doubt in his mind. He loved this woman with all his body and all his heart.

Footsteps behind them forced them to separate and turn to see Mor striding in their direction. Luxiana hiccupped in surprise at the sight of Rhys's cousin, then winced with concern as she realized that she had just seen her cut her father's tongue out in front of her. "Mor, I'm sorry," she apologized, taking a step toward her. "I shouldn't have..."

She couldn't finish her sentence as Rhys's cousin threw herself into her arms to hug her with all her might. "I adore you. God, that feels good!"

Luxiana was surprised at first, but then laughed with Mor and returned his hug.

Rhysand detailed his soul mate laughing with her cousin, then glanced knowingly at his two brothers. She wasn't as weak as they thought, and in fact she was incredible. She'd done all this to protect his honor. To protect him. She was made to be his high lady. She was made for him. He stared at her and it wasn't with tenderness or affection but with love. He was in love with this woman, damn it.