#dark side of the moon: raven's face

[buckys-lost-arm]

Tag Drop

there are footprints on the Moon — and I made some of them: raven's art the universe is not required to be in perfect harmony with human ambition: crack in space no one can hear you scream: do not reblog we choose to explore space because doing so improves our lives: memes all these satellites are being put to use: mobile we all go back to stardust in the end: offline every one of us is in the cosmic perspective precious: ooc the universe is a pretty big place: promo all civilizations become either space faring or extinct: psa the exploration of space will go ahead whether we join in it or not: queue we came in peace for all mankind: raven rambles the void screams back: raven answered for the betterment of mankind: reblog mankind cannot stay in the cradle forever: self-promo dark side of the moon: raven's face

[ohodie]

SETTLE DOWN!

luke castellan x reader

★ “for crying out loud, settle down!”

ABOUT - you hate his guts. he hates yours. but you’d by lying if you said you didn’t want to make out with him until his lips start bleeding. and he’d be lying if he said he didn’t like that idea.

WARNINGS - sexual references, sexual comments, enemies to lovers, steamy makeout scenes, no explicit smut. both luke and reader are very horny and very mean sooo two red flags lol

A/N - please don’t make fun of my english/australian vocabulary. i know americans don’t use the word ‘fit’ but LET ME LIVE IN PEACE!!!let me know if you’d fancy a part 2 <3

WC - 3.7k words

it’s hard to recall when exactly your distaste towards luke castellan first developed.

maybe it started off as rude comments and shoved shoulders, or simply the act of tripping over each other's shoes, paired with a few nasty glances. either way, you hated his guts.

this sentiment was obviously returned by luke, who was eager to constantly egg you on and rile you up. maybe he found it amusing- watching the ever so calm and collected eldest daughter of the hypnos cabin going absolutely ballistic whenever luke did something slightly annoying. he loved the way her mature and gentle persona shattered as soon as he provoked her.

it was rather strange how quickly they let their masks slip, letting themselves shout foul obscenities at each other as soon as a conflict arose between the two of them. it was like being near each other was the primary catalyst for their arguments and squabbles- not the actual contents of the disagreement itself, but the players involved.

curiously, luke’s terrible attitude was never extended to anyone other than you. around everyone else at camp half-blood, luke was the perfect gentleman. warm and welcoming to anyone who happened to walk past him, a great swordsman, well-kept, respectful and polite, the list goes on. he was perfect. but as soon as his eyes met yours, his entire body shifted. he became something colder, something ravenous- something hungry. he was out for blood, he just didn’t understand why.

you were slumped over a picnic table near the cabins, tiredly observing all handful of half-blood kids from various cabins making friendship bracelets.

it was dark out, the moon and the embers of the nearby fire acting as the sole providers of light for the camp that night.

truthfully, you didn’t want to be there. you would rather be in bed, coddled up between your sheets for hours before heading down to the infirmary to help out the younger kids with their sleeping troubles. maybe afterwards you could go down to the theatre and join in on a few songs with the apollo kids, or even practice sparring with clarisse.

whatever it was, you didn’t want to be there. not with luke castellan’s eyes studying your every move. you didn’t need to lift your head to know he was looking at you- you could feel it. the arrogance was radiating off him and you could smell his pride from across the picnic table. your nose easily picked up on notes of wet grass, a neutral deodorant, pure spite, and vanilla candles.

after what seemed like an eternity, you eventually shot your head up to meet luke’s unwavering gaze.

“someone’s sleepy.” he smirked, his voice calm and cold. he looked satisfied; content with watching you slowly rise in anger as he began to coddle you and patronise your every move.

you ran a hand through your hair, fixing the messy state it was in after laying down for so long. “i’m not sleepy, just bored.” you retorted, letting your hands hold up your head as you stared deeply into his eyes, not breaking eye contact.

luke played along, refusing to blink as he picked up on the competitive gesture. “bored, huh?” he mused, shooting you a cocky grin as he leaned forward over the table. “you’re never satisfied, are you, princess?”

you rolled your eyes, letting your pupils meet the back of your head as you stifled a groan. you slowly covered one side of your face in your hand, hiding your pink cheeks as a result of his use of the nickname ‘princess’.

“don’t you have a loser convention to get to?” you asked, referring to the cabin councillors meeting that he was supposed to be at.

luke shrugged, looking to his side as he watched a young demeter boy making a bracelet. “got cancelled. now i get to look at your pretty little face for an hour straight.”

“i’m going to bed.” you grumbled, standing up from the picnic table, an unfinished friendship bracelet left discarded. you walked away, hearing little to no protests from the rest of the table.

luke’s eyes met the bracelet you left behind, studying it for a moment. the colours were cute and the beads were placed strategically along the string, creating an interesting and visually pleasing combination of textures and shapes. luke’s hand wandered over to the bracelet, quickly snatching it before securely tying it and stuffing it in his pocket.

luke wasn’t sure why he stole the bracelet. maybe he thought he could taunt you with it, or maybe he could just wear it for shits and gigs. it was a pretty bracelet- why wouldn’t he want to wear it?

a week passed by, and it was time for capture the flag.

luke had consistently come out of the games a champion, securing his place as the best swordsman at camp half-blood whenever possible.

you were tired of it. you promised yourself that when the opportunity arose, you would beat him to it. you would earn the praise he revived so effortlessly.

your determination to win capture the flag was also partially encouraged by the events of the previous tuesday.

you, luke, and a few other older demi-gods were forced to monitor the younger campers on a trip to the nearby lake. simple, right? wrong.

things went south fast when luke ‘accidentally’ nudged your shoulder a bit too hard, forcing you to fall into the lake. luckily, you were a strong enough swimmer and were able to get back on land safely.

“sorry about that, y/n. maybe next time you should keep out of the way?” he leaned in close, whispering in your ear.

luke smirked lightly as his dry hand rubbed the soaking wet and now transparent fabric covering your shoulder. his lips softly grazed your neck as you released yourself from his grip, shooting him a dirty look.

“you should watch your step, castellan. things like this happen to anyone.”

luke scoffed, looking you up and down as he took in the sight of your shivering body. “do they now?” he asked, his head turning to follow your figure as you walked past him.

as you walked away, luke couldn’t help but study your body as it became revealed by the fabric of the camp t-shirt sticking to your skin. how could he not admire the way he could see the vague outline of a lacy black bra underneath your top? or the way your wet hair was framing your angry little face? how you stared him down as your friend offered you a towel.

if you weren’t so acutely aware of how your figure was on full display, you would’ve pushed him in as well- but you were way too infuriated to even get close to him at this point… as well as the fact you didn’t think you could handle the idea of him taking off your shirt in front of you, all wet as his hair let water droplets roll down his torso.

maybe you could handle hitting him with a baseball bat a few times, but the idea of his face all beaten and bloodied was strangely appetising as well.

in all fairness, luke’s actions were not unprovoked. it’s not like you didn’t also tease him and fuck around with his temper.

for example, the very day before the incident at the lake, you had used your abilities as a daughter of hypnos to put him to sleep… for 19 hours, causing him to miss out on camp activities and lose hours of valuable training time.

you felt pure bliss watching him as he stepped out of the hermes cabin, confused and disoriented as hoards of campers instantly surrounded him.

“are you okay luke?”

“i heard you were in a coma!”

“we thought you were a goner,”

luke blocked out the concerned comments of his peers as soon as he caught you gazing over at him from the deck of the hypnos cabin.

with that ‘i got you good’ smirk plastered across your face, luke knew he had to get you back. getting to see your semi-exposed and cold, shuddering body in the process of doing so was only a bonus.

he felt a high from getting to see what he caused. what he did to you. it made him hungry for more. how else could he anger you? get you to show him more? how could you return the favour? would you? he didn’t know if you realised the effect you had on him- but he was going to do anything in his power for you to feel it too.

but those incidents were nothing compared to what was about to go down.

2 hours into capture the flag, and you had managed to fool and scare off enough members of the blue team, causing many individual members to go off track. those hours practising sword fighting with clarisse were definitely worth it.

you leaned against a nearby tree, closing your eyes for a moment as you fiddled with your sword. lost in thought, you heard something coming. more specifically, someone. you didn’t even have to open your eyes to know who it was.

“oh, hey castellan. isn’t it past your bedtime?” you asked, rubbing your eyes open as you lazily swung your sword back and forth.

luke scoffed, taking a step towards you. “i think i like you better when you’re drenched in lake water.” he smirked, looking into your eyes without breaking contact. he couldn’t look away. it wasn’t even because he wanted to intimidate you; he simply couldn’t stand to have you exit his field of vision. not right now, at least.

you look a step backwards, getting into position as you use your shield to protect yourself. “are you gonna try to maim me or what?”

luke took another step forward, mirroring your stance as he took the defensive. “and hurt your pretty little body? i’d rather die.”

you turned red, your mouth agape as you processed what he had said. “excuse me?” you spat, your voice breathy as your eyes widened.

“you heard me,” he smiled innocently, deceiving you before beginning to attack. you blocked every move, pacing around the area as you swung your sword at him. “you’re such a fucking prick!” you grumbled, trying to catch your breath as you struggled to mark him with your blade.

“language, princess.” he scolded, still smiling at you as he continued his attempts at disarming you.

that was the moment when you realised something.

you can play dirty.

not with your sleep-themed party tricks or your weak little fists, but with the power of unpredictability. the element of surprise.

you let him get closer to you, pretending to settle down before him. luke chuckled at the sight of your loosened grip on your shield and increasingly tired eyes, noticing the way your footsteps shuffled backwards and forwards.

“someone’s getting tired-“ his cocky sentiment was quickly cut off by the feeling of your hands tightly gripping his arm- his shock only furthering as your teeth dug into the soft skin on his wrist.

he instantly dropped his shield, his sword still held firmly in his other hand. you quickly released him from your bite, taking a step forwards as you put your weight on his shield. “ow- what the fuck?!” he stammered, looking up at you with red cheeks and a bleeding hand.

you were stumped. you hadn’t thought further than getting rid of his shield. “i didn’t mean to break skin to be honest. sorry.” you shrugged, picking up his shield and throwing it far away while he was still frozen in shock.

luke continued looking at you, silent as he became overwhelmed by the feeling of a ruthless war finally coming to an end within his mind.

obviously, he found you attractive. you were a pretty girl. sure, a lot of girls at camp half-blood were pretty. but for some odd reason, he thought you were much prettier. the type of pretty girl that deserved to be called cute nicknames every day and covered in gentle kisses every night. he wanted to kiss you softly, hold you tightly, say you looked gorgeous, make you tacky beaded bracelets that were the same colour as your eyes. he wanted to make you feel loved.

but he also thought you were a brat. always teasing him and only him. driving him insane with targeted comments and insults. purposefully making him look stupid in front of the younger campers and even patronising him for it. luke wanted to put you in your place. he wanted nothing more than to push you onto his bed in the dead of night, marking you as his. he yearned to hear your strained voice whimpering his name as he towered over you. he wanted to exchange knowing glances and pretend nothing had changed, despite the images of your hands gripping his bedsheets as you let out stifled moans etched into his mind.

luke often wondered how the two could overlap. how the fuck could these two perceptions of this one girl coexist? but luke didn’t wonder how it was possible to think about anymore, he didn’t care about that. now, he wondered if it was possible to act on both of his separate desires for her. he wondered if she even wanted him as much as he wanted her- if she wanted him at all.

“hey, i said i was sorry for making you bleed!” you called out, snapping him out of it.

“stop sulking! what, do you want me to kiss it better or something?”

luke blinked for the first time in what felt like centuries, shrugging as he let a sly smile creepy onto his face. “oh, im not sulking.” he insisted as he stepped closer towards the shorter girl.

he extended his wrist out towards you, a deep and bleeding bite mark engraved into the skin. “you gonna kiss it better, or…?”

you turned red, shaking your head. “i was just joking, castellan.” you murmured coldly, trying to avoid his gaze.

he kept his hand extended towards you, temping you to just take it and kiss it to get him to leave. “fucking loser…” you grumbled, holding his hand in yours as you gave his wrist a soft kiss.

“there, better?” you scoffed before luke’s hands began to tightly grip your wrist, spinning you gently onto your back as he pushed you to the ground, hovering over you. luckily, you still had your sword in your hand. you quickly moved it in front of you, holding the blade close to his neck.

“be careful, princess” he cooed, his sword digging into the dirt ground, standing upright in is position as the skin of your right thigh pressed against the blade. his hands gripped your shoulder and waist, keeping you bound to the floor as you began to squirm under his grip. “ugh, are you kidding me?!” you huffed, your face red from the feeling of intimacy between the two of you arising.

luke was basking in it, relishing the moment as he became almost addicted to the feeling of your skin against his. he let out a hitched breath, his eyes trailing down her frame as he finally realised just how close they were. the vulnerable yet stubborn look in her eyes set off a switch in him. you watched him curiously as he suddenly became a flustered mess, quickly scrambling off of you and standing up.

you lifted your back off the ground, using your hands to rid yourself of the dirt that had accumulated on your shirt.

“are you gonna explain whatever the fuck just happened, luke?” you asked, calling out to him from your spot on the ground.

he rolled his eyes, turning around to face you. “shit, y/n- are you fucking stupid?” he questioned, his voice reeking of irritation and frustration. you furrowed your brows, standing up as you approached him, sword and shield in hand. “oh, alright. forgive me for wondering why the dickhead who threw me into a lake a few days ago was pinning me to the ground in the middle of capture the flag for no reason?” i explained, seething as i pushed him back by the shoulders.

“what the fuck is your problem?” you asked again, letting yourself back him up against a nearby tree.

the game didn’t matter to you anymore. what mattered was getting to the bottom of why this prick was fucking around with you. sure, you liked how it felt being pushed against the ground. you liked the feeling of his blade pressing against your thigh. but you liked the boy more than his actions. you hated yourself for it, of course. this was the dude who’s been teasing you about and pushing you around for 3 summers straight- so why the fuck did you think he was the fittest guy you had ever laid your eyes on?

why did you want him to run his hands through your hair? suck on your neck till it went purple? why on earth did you spend countless nights dreaming about him holding you close as he slept next to you?

you were the eldest hypnos daughter at camp half-blood. you could’ve changed your dream easily; came up with literally any other fantasy at the drop of a hat- but you didn’t. you let it continue. because as much as you hated to admit it, you liked him. you wanted him bad. every last inch of him.

luke let your words echo through his mind for a bit. ‘what is my problem?’ he thought, his expression blank as he stared at you. “i don’t know, y/n! maybe my problem is you?” he said, his voice strained, yet still snarky and somewhat dramatic.

you rolled your eyes again, stepping forward. you kept your hands on his shoulders, pressing him further against the tree he was pinned against. “i’m your problem?!” you asked angrily, holding your sword against his neck once more.

“yes! you make me feel fucking weak.” luke confessed, gripping your wrist tightly as he pushed your hand away in order to create some space between his neck and the sword. “i can’t control myself around you.” he exclaimed, pushing his hand against yours as you retracted the blade from his neck.

“you bring out the worst in me, and i hate you for that.” you arched your brows, leaning forward. “that sounds like a you problem.” you quipped, defeatedly pushing the top of the blade of your sword into the ground as you let your newly free hand grip his chin- forcing him to look down at you.

luke’s hand wandered over to your face, his thumb softly grazing your bottom lip as you tilted his chin downwards, letting him look you in the eyes.

“don’t act like you don’t get exactly what i mean, princess.” he cooed, his voice low as his fingers traced over your lips and cheekbones, his other hand gently caressing your jawline as his fingertips wrapped around your neck.

you grumbled, standing on your toes to reach his height. “you’re a prick.” you scoffed, your eyes fluttering closed as you eagerly kissed him on the lips, his cheeks turning red as he mirrored your movements. he let his hands run through you hair, his other hand resting on your waist as he turned you around- pushing you against the tree now.

his hands ravenously scattered across your delicate frame, trying to feel every curve and dent on your face, back and waist. you pressed your body against his as his hands travelled across your form, closing any and all distance between the two.

after a few straight minutes of violently making out, you pulled away for air, staring into his eyes as your lower lip trembled in shock. you both tried to steady your breathing, lost in each other's eyes as your heartbeats returned back to normal.

“i’ll kiss you again if you turn around and let us win.” you said quickly, the offer seemingly the first thing you could think to say.

luke stayed quiet for a moment, before bursting out into hesitant laughter. “i mean, that’s a pretty good offer…” he said softly, letting his fingers trace your facial features as he studied the colour of your eyes.

“sure.” he said, a little smile on his face as you both leaned in again, the kiss a lot more passionate this time around. you held a clump of his hair in your hand, lightly pulling on on it as luke’s fingers jumped between gripping your neck and shoulders- the other hand running up and down your waist and hips.

you felt his knee hit the bark of the tree, slightly bent as it lightly pressed against the inside of your thigh. that’s when your hands began to grip the back of his shirt, your lips gliding down to the side of his neck. quiet moans escaped luke’s lips, only encouraging you to keep going. he moved his hand downwards, tracing circles into your hips as he moved his other arm hand upwards, cupping the space on the side of your breast with his thumb, lightly rubbing your ribcage.

the moment was only increasing in intensity- before luke was cut off my the sounds of someone calling his name. he quickly pulled away, leaving a gentle kiss on your lips before stepping back.

“right, time to hold up my end of the deal.” he chirped up, leaving one more needy kiss on your forehead.

“oh, by the way-“ he paused, before quickly pulling the bracelet you made the week before out of his pocket. “did you want this back, princess? or can i have it?” he asked cheerfully, his voice low as he looked over you.

“keep it.” you said hastily, your cheeks a vibrant shade of red. luke nodded, giving you one final kiss on the lips as he put the bracelet on the same wrist you had bitten earlier. he gave you a subtle wink and a smile, before jogging away- leaving you frozen in place.

you could hear him talking to his friend from a distance, noting on how he lied to effortlessly- saving your arse over a few kisses.

needless to say, the red team won capture the flag. but luke couldn’t bring himself to care about losing. how could he care about anything other than y/n and her hands and her smile and her eyes? her witty comments and remarks? the way she tilted her head up to look up at him? the way his face fits perfectly in her palm? how could he care about anything else ever again?

[heavyisthecrownif]

Intro

The Emperor is ill; the people of the capital whisper with varying degrees of concern or delight; he has completely fallen into the clutches of madness, as the most insidious tongues allege, the truth is, to their ignorance, considerably more urgent.

The Emperor, Airlar the Unifier, responsible for the greatest modifications to the constitution and State in the entire history of Ehyla, a living testimony to the existence of a civilization buried by the sands of time as well as oblivion, is irremediably, undeniably dying.

And so your life undergoes an absolute change overnight by nothing less than imperial decree. As the only one of your siblings of the right age, you are not only heading to a nest of conspiring vipers that you should never have dealt with, but every second, implicitly and explicitly, you are being judged and evaluated for a purpose that escapes your knowledge. Truth be told, at least it's not all bad; you have your very competent and loyal assistant at your side, and with your sister relatively close by, your experience shouldn't be so terrible...

Unless...

CW: This is a dark romance, and what this entails—things like possessiveness, stalking, manipulation, jealousy, and dependency will be seen in varying degrees in all routes. Sexism, transphobia, and homophobia will be briefly mentioned, as well as religious trauma, abuse of power, graphic violence, and optional explicit sexual scenes.

This list is subject to change as the game progresses.

HITC is only for an audience of +18.

Demo: Prologue: 11k last updated on 2/21/25

Since HITC is a wip all blog content is subject to possible changes in the future.

•Customize your Crown; personality, appearance, gender, pronouns, independent of the chosen gender, magic type, and where the foreign half of your bloodline comes from.

•Build friendships, romances and/or enmities with 5 diverse characters, all of selectable gender (with ace options).

•Find out why you are in demand in the capital and why you should study at the "Saint Elizsea Academy for Illustrious Young People" side by side with the cream of the crop of Ehylian society.

•Have a familiar! With options, so far, to choose from a wolf, a ferret, a raven, a snake, a crocodile, a deer and several types of dogs and cats.

Choose wisely! They all possess consciousness and at least a degree of magical attributes and some are...sassy.

•Shape the narrative with your decisions, every choice matters.

•The Crown: You! As the fourth child of a marriage between a former general promoted to king for his illustrious strategies against the rebellion against the fae and a foreign scholar, your outlook is, to say the least, peculiar. Not only are you the product of a marriage of love, with the confidence of genuinely and willingly counting on the support of your brothers and older sister again, but also, well known for their almost barbaric customs, your parents have the audacity to allow you to decide what to do with your own life, from coveting and collecting knowledge to learning the art of war or venturing into any of the five arts, you have a place nothing less than privileged, so far from being the firstborn and with an older brother more than capable and willing to take charge of the kingdom, your future is, to say the least, very promising, until an edict of the dying, and extremely capricious emperor demands that every young people of marriageable age who is not taking charge of the administration of their jurisdiction at the time, must go to be evaluated at The Academy in the heart of the capital, with your first brother discarded, your older sister engaged, your second brother in the borderlands doing pilgrim work and your younger siblings too young to attend that leaves you alone as an option.

•The one who left (RO): Asterion/Astrya Dellamort. With silky midnight waves and expressive eyes that evoke the memory of the moon in their hue and roundness, they possesses an astonishingly delicate and pretty face, for someone who has been classified with little variation as a rigid, cold, arrogant, difficult and even bitchy person throughout their young life, Azzy, the nickname with which you baptized their and, unbeknownst to you no soul is allowed to use without going through severe verbal reprimands and/or public humiliation, was, at least until the age of 13, your best friend, with their mother being a strong ally, and more importantly, a supporter of your parents, it is no wonder that you two were brought together to be playmates since before you could remember.

Truth be told, Azzy was never easy, despite knowing you all their life there is something about you that bothers they deeply, they can trust your reasons, your transparency, but they can't understand your affection, because as the only child of the Queen, Azzy they was much more exposed and at a much younger age to the cruel machinations of politics, so, with an almost supernatural ease they developed a capacity with words as bewitching as it is deadly, cruel if you will even, not that you have witnessed it first hand, of course, for many complaints, frowns and playful reluctance, you probably have the rare honor of knowing and living with the kindest version of Azzy, which in turn gives you the merit of being the person who knows they the most and the least, being a witness to they gentleness but mostly ignorant of their cruelty.

It's not until a tragic occasion, when your relationship breaks down, abruptly, suddenly, with the roughness of a wound that hasn't healed properly even five years later, that you wonder why Azzy decided to cut off all contact with you, but, unbeknownst to you, they despises and belittles anyone who tries to gain their favor by putting you down.

Tropes: Friends (with the possibility of a friendly rivalry...or not) to "rivals" to lovers/ Attachment issues, let's say Azzy is fine keeping their distance, (they're not) but if you come back into their life there's no turning back/ The ice king/queen's weak point/ Misunderstandings/ Forced proximity.

The one who takes care of you (RO): Kaihlan/Karonthe Agrapolli. Strictly speaking, Kai is your bodyguard, but over the years they has taken on far more than their fair share of responsibilities, and no matter how much you and your parents have asked them not to overexert themselves, the satisfied gleam in their amber eyes whenever they do something to make your life easier, along with their unbeatable stubbornness, means that you can count on Kai as your shadow more often than not.

As the eldest of your father's right-hand twins, Kai has been two things to you: a constant and a teacher. With their undeniable combat skills and their minds as quick as their feet, it is not only an honor to have them defend you, but also teach you.

Kai is loyal to you to the core; in order to ensure your happiness and safety, they is capable of acts that go against morality and even the laws of man and god.

Kai is probably the tallest person you've ever met, so tall that when you were younger and cheeky you asked them if they weren't part giant, they laughed but otherwise didn't answer the question. With sun-kissed skin glowing a shade reminiscent of honey almost as much as their eyes Kai is not only tall, they're broad and rough, with large scarred hands that extend all the way to they forearms you'd expect they to behave like a bull in a china shop, and they do in a way, but when you're around them, they seem incapable of anything but the most dedicated and delicate care. Both M!Kai and F!Kai have hair brushing their shoulders in a fluffy reddish-brown mess, with the back of their necks longer than the front and scattered freckles from spending so much time in the sun.

Tropes: Puppy love/They look like they could kill you and potentially will if you're not MC, but they're actually a cinnamon roll, long-term crush, himbo/bimbo, surface only, gentle giant, wolf in sheep's clothing.

The one who admires you (RO):???. You're not sure how, but you've somehow managed to get a hold of a stalker.

What you know so far is little and downright mediocre, they either have enough power or influence to bribe someone into getting their letters to you within the castle grounds, or more unlikely, they're stealthy enough to slip past Kai's ever-watchful eye, so all things considered, there's most likely magic involved, which brings you back to the first point, or they're rich enough to hire or own a wizard themselves or they're powerful enough to conjure their presence into your chambers without raising suspicion.

Tropes: Loved you from the moment they saw you/secret admirer/strangers to ???/would burn the world down for you.

The one who does not show up(RO): Secret route! You'll know when you meet them...maybe.

Tropes: Love-hate/they despise loving you/they want to live in your heart... literally/the love that was never meant to be/they are doomed. to love you? to exist without you? not even they know.

The one you impressed (RO): Elysse/Eylarion Kurayoi.

If there is one word to define Ely it is scandal, with their elastic golden curls bouncing with the sound of their thunderous laughter, they would not readily admit how much they love to impress, but the mischievous sparkle in their mahogany eyes says otherwise.

You know little to nothing about them other than the rumors that proclaim that they have no standards regarding who they share a bed with, but for some reason you intrigue them, if you were to ask them they would say little more than that they are curious that you are so different and little else.

They happens to be your roommate at the academy and as someone who for better or worse seems to be extremely transparent and understands how everyone who has an important name in the capital acts, it might be convenient to have them around, but be careful not to leave them too close to the warmth of your home because they might not want to leave.

Tropes: Master/Mistress of seduction until they flirt with someone they really like/ Bad reputation or justified prejudices?/ the capital's rebellious child/ The most beautiful at the ball/ The beauty and the beast

Feel free to ask me anything! And thanks for reading!

[thekinslayed]

Audience of One

summary | An odd inkling to watch ties you to a raven-haired man in a beat up old car.

pairing | martin (in the modern world) x reader

tags | 18+, MINORS DNI! all p*rn no plot, slight bloodplay, martin's greasy and kind of a creep, mentions of violence and groping, slight exhibitionism, oral (f), unprotected sex, rimming, anal fingering, squirting

wordcount | 2.7k

likes, comments, reblogs are much appreciated!

It was starting to get dark now. You’re not too sure how long you’d been standing there, but the numbing ache in your heels told you you’ve spent the better part of the day there. You haven’t moved an inch since you found the car and the raven-haired figure inside it. 

You didn’t even know where you were exactly. Though you figured you must’ve walked a good distance from the rackety RV belonging to the nameless older man you followed home from the bar last night. That evening was pretty uneventful, as benumbed as your cold toes in your black platforms. Your stomach was grumbling loudly, the bag of chips you’d stolen from the guy’s pantry clearly insufficient for your gut to get you by, but still, you couldn’t move. Four guys had gone in and out of the silver car. A group of kids on bikes had pulled out their phones with their flashes on to record the messed up jumble inside the vehicle. A concerned citizen had stopped and stared, dog in tow and milk jug in hand. Though just like you, they only watched. 

He’d met your eye occasionally, often when his opponent had his face pressed up against the glass. Somewhere in between the guy who had cut the bridge of his nose and the other who kept pulling his hair, he smiled at you. You smiled right back.

With the moon properly floating in the breezy dim of the night sky, a group of loud girls with their flashy jewelry had found the show. They all talked on top of each other, crouching down to get onto his eye level. He seemed to preen under their attention, breezily propping his chin onto his hand, as though he wasn’t pinning the guy’s ankle with the other.

But soon, they had lost interest too, and once more, the fighters had an audience of one. 

By the sixth one, he had passed out. Choked by the seatbelt. The other guy was much bigger in him, looking more athletic in his tight shirt and shorts, but your stranger put up a good fight. You watched as his opponent left him lying there, and you waited. It must have been ten minutes, or an hour, but you waited. Soon, you spotted the shaking of his unkept black tresses, signalling his return to consciousness. It was all too normal for him it seemed, with the way he casually put his shoes back on, then his jacket, and he was out of the car. 

Any semblance of a reaction from you came in a small jolt at the slam of the car door. The bloodied showman made his way towards your still-standing figure, shaking his head to mess his sweaty mane. He was limping a bit; probably from the little maneuver he did into the back seat with the third guy. 

He didn’t say anything to you. You don’t say anything back. Merely two pairs of eyes staring at each other— quizzical, drained. 

He tilted his head off to the side, somewhere in a vague direction to the cluster of houses with gray clapboards off in the distance.

You shrugged, then nodded. What the hell, sure.

There was an odd stinging in your heels with every step you took behind him, but you stayed quiet. Your eyes stayed glued to the back of his head, your mind thinking of the possibility of you beating him in a fight if you snuck up on him then. You’d hold up for a while, a kick in the nuts would definitely have you get a couple of hits in, you figured, but he’s got the moves. You’ve seen all of it.

His house was a dull gray, like the ones on either side of it. The stained walls told you it was once bright and new, perhaps when the smiling woman in the picture frames still lived there. His mum, maybe. There wasn’t a single soul around now, except for you and him. He led you to his room without so much a word, which was littered with all kinds of paints, posters, and clothes. 

Something underneath a pair of plaid pajamas started to squirm and make its way to the tip of your boot, tongue darting out to lick the cracked leather. “Ew,” you grimaced, squinting your eyes to look at the crawler. You had no idea what it was, not with how dark it was in his room. “What the fuck is that?”

“That’s my funny little guy,” he muttered, scooping the slimy thing into his hand and depositing it into a glass aquarium with a coo. You stayed standing on the threshold, in your fake fur coat and your slip dress. 

Your stranger immediately undid the buckles of his belt, dropping the light-washed jeans onto the floor. He seemed all too comfortable walking around in his boxers in front of a woman he’d just met. You realized he hadn’t told you his name yet; you muttered yours to him in the silence. 

“Martin,” he grumbled, plopping onto the mattress. His face was still bloodied from all that waltzing he did in the car, and you figured you should probably offer to help him clean those up. You stayed quiet.

The vintage coat you’d paid thirty pounds for along with letting the owner get a feel up your skirt soon found its place among the mess on the ground. You unzipped your knee-high platforms, wriggling your toes free of their constraint before settling right next to him. He’d somehow procured a cigarette, swiftly lighting it to life and taking a puff. Your cold fingers brushed against his when he passed it to you, inhaling the stinging smoke into your lungs. 

“What were you doing back there?” you spoke up after a hazy, nicotine-filled silence, turning to look at him. His shoulder was nicely warm against yours, and he had a smell to him. Not a nose-scrunching odor, but a funny mix of sweat and the smell of a wooden cupboard. 

“Car-Jitsu,” he drawled out, stretching his long limbs past the span of the twin-sized mattress. Your tongue itched to voice your questions, there was much more you wanted to ask, but Martin didn’t seem to talk much. How did it work? Was there cash involved? Was there some sort of Facebook group they were all a part of? ‘Available from 1-6 pm tomorrow. Silver 2006 Lexus. 5 minutes each turn.’ 

You were taken out of your thoughts by a shining in your face and a buzzing. A remote-controlled helicopter hovered over your face, blazing its bright light into your eyes. Martin, toying with the controller in his hands, chuckled beside you, which made you smile. He directed it to circle over your head, lowering his voice in a mocking police tone that made you giggle. It descended down, and down, landing on the plane of your clothed stomach. The last of the propeller’s spinning tickled your belly, sending a buzz straight down to your legs. You had propped them onto the bed, and the hem of your already short skirt fell into a crumple on your hips, exposing your black thong. The man pressed to your side reached for his toy, flicking it off before returning his warm palm to your abdomen. He seemed to test the feel of the cheap satin beneath his hand with his every caress, sliding up and down your belly. You simply lay there, sighing when you felt his nose press against your cheek, breathing in the scent of your flesh. 

His hand slithered underneath your dress, squeezing the supple skin of your waist before cupping your cunt. He was growing hard against your thigh, you could feel him start to twitch. Mindlessly, your hand crossed over to touch him over his boxers, making him grunt. A shudder sprinted down your spine when his tongue darted out to lick on the shell of your ear, blunt teeth nibbling on your lobe. His mouth traveled south, mouthing over your stiff nipples before nudging your dress just underneath your tits to reveal your stomach. He nuzzled his wounded face over the soft span of flesh, painting you red with dried flecks and wet smears of blood. It made the hairs on your arms raise in attention, your cunt tingling when his fingers trespassed the waistband of your panties to feel the hairs on your mound.

“What you got under here?” he mumbled against your skin, breathy.

Giving into your urges, your hand settled over the back of his head, fingers running through the jet-black strands of hair. It was slightly slick with grease, as you expected, though surprisingly soft. The soft waves made him look so pretty, though they fell over his face way too much that it covered his icy blues. 

Your hips lifted ever so slightly when his fingertips run a ghostly trail over your slit. “Wanna see?” you offered. Your thong soon joined the pile on the floor, and the air against your exposed cunt held a slight chill, though his breath warmed you up nicely. You watched as two fingers split your folds open, exposing your moistening pussy to his eye, and you wondered if he could see anything with the only light in the room being edges of the neighbor’s yard light from his window. He was studying you like a scientist in a lab, and it wouldn’t surprise you if he reached for the magnifying glass on the nightstand behind him. “Never seen a pussy before, have you, Martin?” you teased. 

“Not as pretty as this one,” he answered, his voice far away as he prodded you in a trance. His tongue darted out to lick over your clit, making your hips jerk in surprise. Martin hummed, pleased with your reaction. He went back for another lick, dipping into your slit this time, then another, and soon, he had you clenching the dark sheets into fists as he licked and sucked all over you. There was no technique to it, nor a finesse, he was merely a starved man feasting on the sweet bounty you offered him. You kept your hand on his head, clamping him down as you grinded on his face. 

Your mind wandered back to him in that car, how he smiled even while in a headlock and his feet dangled over the open window. He seemed to enjoy tumbling around, you figured that much. You wanted to see him smile again, you decided. With intent, you pushed on his shoulder, then the other, pulling him away from in between your thighs. He straightened to look at you in confusion, though the wicked smile on your face as you shoved his chest made his slim cheeks dimple in understanding. With your fourth shove, he caught your wrists, pinning them by your ears with his strong grip. You turned your head to bite his slim forearm, making him yelp. You tussled and grappled, with him grabbing your ankle and you pulling on his hair, until eventually you managed to switch your positions. With him on his back, you settled on his lap, slick folds nestled perfectly against his clothed cock. “I win,” you grinned, Martin mirroring your smile. You grabbed the hem of his gray tee, pulling it over his head before using it to wipe the blood from his nose. His left eye was a little swollen, appearing smaller than the other. Your black dress followed, baring yourself to him. 

Your nipples stood erect in the chilly room. The faint amount of fluorescent light streaming into the gap in his curtains painted a harsh line across the shadows of your blood-streaked body. Nimble fingers reached into the waistband of his black boxers, pulling out his stiff length. You sunk into him with a sigh, rolling your hips with a practiced ease. 

Martin was tantalized. You wondered how long it had been since he fucked a woman, though the way he watched you spear yourself on his cock over and over in awe made you figure it had been a while. It made your chest swell with pride. Taking his wounded hands, you settled them over your tits, urging him to squeeze them. “Like that?” you breathed out, earning a nod from him. 

His cock was making you feel so good, evident from the blissed-out moans freely falling from your lips. Your hips moved with a mind of its own, rubbing your clit against his pubic bone. You steadied yourself with a hand on his sculpted chest, the dark spray of hair a pleasant tickle under your palm. With your view facing directly at the window, you caught the shadow of movement outside. Someone was watching you. You couldn’t see your audience’s face, with the bright porch lights behind him giving you a backlit view of their face. 

Preening under the watchful eye of a stranger, your hands raised to run over your hair, throwing your head back as you rode Martin harder. Your face contorted to display your pleasure, which pleased the man below you as well. His rough palm grabbed your cheek, pulling you straight into his lips.

He tasted coppery with blood, yet slightly sweet from the blue razz lolly that painted his tongue a vivid color. His mouth dominated you like an opponent, consuming you with the hot, wet muscle reaching deep into your warm cavern. Muscled arms encircled your body, caging you against his chest as his hips soon began to rise to meet yours. Trapped, you couldn’t lift your head to see if your audience was still there, though the thought of the unknown figure vanished from your mind with Martin’s erratic thrusts. You could only bury your face into his neck as he took control. 

You didn’t find anything within you to complain about the turn of events. The hairs on the back of your neck raised when you feel his hand lowering to cup your ass, a wandering finger finding your puckered hole. It made you gasp when you felt him circle your rim. With the overflowing slick pouring from your cunt gathered on his fingertip, he dipped into an experimental penetration into your ass. 

“Mmh!” you squealed, biting down on the junction of his shoulder. Martin’s chest rumbled in a breathless chuckle. With your arms still caged in his grip, you could only squirm in his hold as he continued to fuck you with his cock and tease you with his finger. He whispered your name in a pleasured, raspy drawl. It spurned a tingle deep within your core, spurning you further into the abyss. You lifted your head to press your forehead against his. Lips close but not touching, breaths mingling and mixing. His tongue licked your bottom lip, before slithering its way into your mouth. 

Your release crept up your spine like the spider Martin had crawling in an old jar. It brought about a tingle in the back of your head, and soon your cunt gushed all over his cock. You swore you had blacked out the moment he made you squirt, lost in a haze with dotted vision as he continued to pound into you. You could hear him curse in your ear, followed by praises and a slap on your ass for spraying all over his legs. With a harsh thrust that jolted you in the black-haired man’s hold, then another, you feel his cock twitch in your walls as he came into your womb. You were too far gone to muster up the energy to tell him you weren’t on birth control, nor did you have the money for a morning-after pill, limply plopping back onto the mattress when he rolled you off. The bed’s springs bounced when Martin got up, the absence of his warmth making way for a chill to settle over your naked body. You kept your eyes closed, basking in the pleasant buzz of the blissful aftermath and the exhaustion finally catching up to you. 

You hardly registered Martin spreading your folds to look at the pearly white spend dripping from your cunt, humming with satisfaction. Two bright flashes of a camera shone against your closed eyelids, making you open them to look at the man looming over you. His warmth returned when he laid over you like a blanket, sculpted nose settling into your chest, humming a tune against your neck. A polaroid photo was held into your eyesight, and you took it from his grasp. Tilting it toward the soft stream of light from the window, you waited for the photo to clear. He had angled it to have your glistening cunt to be in view, a pearly droplet dripping into the curve of your ass, sharply contrasted by the streaks of red on your stomach, and some even on the inside of your thighs. It was the last thing you saw as your eyes grew heavy with fatigue, falling into slumber with your stranger’s humming in your ear, and the pleasant taste of coppery blood on your lips.

[pure-smut]

obsessed.

featuring: Ryomen Sukuna x f!reader

contains: college!Sukuna, somnophilia, dub/non-con (reader is asleep), cunnilingus, fingering, toxic love, stalking, panty stealing, mentions of male masturbation

note: all characters are aged up to 18+!

word count: 1.3k

series: 1. infatuated | 2. obsessed | 3. addicted | 4. toxic | 5. feral

masterlist

MDNI | 18+ content

It had been one week since you fucked Ryomen Sukuna. One week of you going to class, meeting up with friends, reading in your favourite café. One week of total, blissful obliviousness to the effect you had on Sukuna.

Stalker is a loaded term, but probably an accurate one, Sukuna thinks to himself as he watches you walk home. He’s no stranger to one-night stands – in fact, he tends to thrive off them. But you’re different. Sukuna can’t stop thinking about that night. The noises you made, the way you felt, the euphoria of marking your insides with his cum.

Sukuna is obsessed.

Luckily for him, you live on the ground floor. And he’s just spent a week learning how to lockpick a window from YouTube.

He waits until the lights go off in your bedroom before sidling up to the window. He’s big and not always graceful, but he’s extra careful tonight. He waits outside the window until the moon hangs high in the sky, until he’s sure you’ve fallen asleep. And then he puts everything he learned to use and carefully breaks open the window.

It’s not his fault, not really. It’s not like you left him your phone number and he has no idea what your socials are – he guess you’re pretty private? And every time you caught each other’s eyes on campus, you only looked away. Worse, you looked uninterested.

Didn’t you feel what he felt that night? Didn’t you share in that ecstasy? He knows you did because he watched you cream on his cock.

So this little game you’re playing is irrelevant. Sukuna wants you now. He wants you always.

He stands in the dark of your room, watching you sleep in the dim, silver glow of moonlight. Truthfully, he didn’t think much of you when you first came up to him. A pretty face, no doubt, but nothing special. Nothing unlike all the other girls he’s fucked and never spoken to again. But something unlocked inside him that night. Now, looking at you, he feels a rush of affection. Sukuna bends down to brush a lock of hair from your face, desperate to kiss you again. You don’t even stir.

Sukuna smiles to himself. Even in your sleep, you trust him. It encourages him to slowly pull off your blanket, leaving you only in your panties. He stands back, taking a moment to admire you. The beautiful curves of your body, the gentle rise and fall of your naked chest, your hair splayed out across the pillow.

“My beautiful girl,” he murmurs to himself under his breath. Because that’s what you are – his.

Sukuna slowly crawls onto the bed, his weight sinking into the mattress. He makes sure to move carefully so as not to wake you. He know he can’t fuck you, not like this, not when you need to work his cock slowly inside you. But he’s okay with that – tonight, he wants to taste you.

That night, after you’d left, Sukuna had run his fingers along his cock, scooping up a mixture of his and your cum. He recognised his own taste but yours was new. Delicious. He’d spent the whole week thinking about it, fisting his cock to the thought of tasting you again.

Now’s his chance.

He gently lays himself between your legs, nudging between them. With the size of his body, it spreads your legs nicely for him, affording him a clear view of your panty-clad pussy. Sukuna casts a longing glance at your bare tits but tells himself to be patient – this won’t be the last time he gets to touch you.

Sukuna turns his gaze towards your pussy, taking a deep inhale. You’re not wet yet but he can still smell you, sweet and feminine. It makes him ravenous.

Carefully, keeping one eye on your face to check your reaction, he drags your panties to the side. You don’t stir.

My sweet angel is a heavy sleeper, he notes to himself happily. Perfect.

Faced with your naked pussy in front of him, so inviting, Sukuna leans forward and licks a tentative stripe along your lips. He glances up to check your reaction. Nothing.

Encouraged, Sukuna laps at you softly, slowly dipping his tongue between your folds to seek out more of your nectar. He wants so badly to wrap his large arms around your thighs and hold you flush to his mouth, to eat you the way he knows you deserve. But he has to be gentle right now.

Sukuna is not a man who begs. He won’t suffer the indignity of seeking you out publicly, making the first move. No, he wants you to come to him. He wants you to say please, please stuff your cock inside me again.

The thought makes his cock stir, throbbing against the confines of his sweatpants. Sukuna trails his tongue up to your clit, wrapping his lips around it and sucking softly. You whimper in your sleep and the sound is music to Sukuna’s ears. He starts to grind against the mattress, desperate for some friction.

With one hand, Sukuna cautiously dips a finger between your folds, now puffy and slick with arousal. He can feel your hole, the tight ring of resistance that he pushes past slowly, and he remembers how it felt wrapped around his cock. He pulls back and bites his bottom lip to stop from groaning. Fuck. He’s not going to last long like this.

Cum for me, pretty girl, he thinks, pressing his finger deeper and sucking on your clit again. Cum on my tongue.

As if you can hear his thoughts, your hips start to buck. Even in your sleep, you can’t get enough of him. You need more of him. Sukuna curls his finger, finding the sensitive bundle of nerves inside you and stroking it. You gasp and groan, still asleep but your body responding. Sukuna licks your arousal before circling up to meet your clit once more, swiping the flat of his tongue against it.

A dam inside you breaks. In some distant dream, your orgasm ripples through you, making you fist the bedsheets and curl your toes. Sukuna feels you clench around his finger and nearly cums himself. How this tight little hole swallowed his whole cock is a wonder.

Not to risk overstimulating you and waking you up, Sukuna withdraws his finger as your orgasm subsides. He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand and sucks your arousal from his finger.

Fucking delicious.

He’s painfully hard now and wants desperately to coat you in his cum but he can’t give away that he was here. He needs to be patient. And if Sukuna wants something, he can be patient as a saint about it.

But he's not leaving empty-handed.

Quietly, he pulls your panties back into place, smoothing them over your now soaking mound. In the corner of your room, he spies the laundry basket - it doesn't take him long to find what he's looking for.

Sukuna restraints himself to only one pair of your used panties, plucking them from your other clothes. He brings it to his nose to inhale the scent of you, your taste still lingering on his tongue, and he has to stop himself from groaning. You have no idea how badly he wants to be inside you, to feel your heavenly pussy around his cock.

He had promised himself he was going to leave but how can he? You're lying there looking so fucking perfect, so ripe for the taking. Sukuna balls his hands into fists to stop from reaching out to you.

No, he has to go. If you discover he was here, you'll never come near him again. This is his little secret and he'll take it to the grave.

Later, he knows he'll spend the rest of the night with your panties pressed against his face and his fist around his cock, replaying the night you spent together in his mind. It'll be a cheap imitation but it'll have to do... for now.

He withdraws into the shadows of your bedroom, climbing back through your window and closing it silently behind him.

Until next time, he thinks.

Taglist: @tojis-ball-sack @moonjellyfishie @kalulakunundrum @benimarusimp33e

masterlist

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[milswrites]

At the end of the night

~ Azriel X Fem Illyrian!Reader

Based on this request

Summary: They say you never forget your first love. So how could Azriel move on when you were never far from his mind?

Warnings: Gross men, intoxication, injury, blood, talks of wing clipping, talks of Azriel’s past, smut 18+ mdni (p in v), angst, fluff, the whole shebang.

Word count: 8.7k

'Tell me the story about how the sun loved the moon so much that he dies every night to let her breathe, and in return, she reflects his love.'

The hour was late.

Far too late for a young woman such as yourself to be walking through the shadowed streets of Windhaven unaccompanied. The waning moon lost amongst the clouds as you moved under the cover of darkness.

You had no true destination in mind. Rather, your aimless wandering was done on account of you trying to pass the hours until you were able to return home once more. The lurking dangers of Windhaven appeared much more appealing than whatever bacchic activities were currently taking place at your home.

Night becoming your only friend as you spent all your time within its company.

It was now common practice, keeping yourself occupied whilst your father drank himself to oblivion alongside his barbarous friends. Your home no longer habitable, as with each day that passed it began to resemble a dreary tavern more and more.

Yet the streets themselves were just as an unpleasant place to be.

Even in the darkest hours of the night, the camp was still teeming with life. From lousy drunkards to irreputable whores, it seemed as though everybody was searching for some relief tonight. All seeking an escape from what was the hellish day-to-day of Windhaven.

It was therefore no surprise that your presence didn’t go unnoticed as you worked your way through the miserable throng. The sight of a young woman such as yourself, alone and unaccompanied during the midnight hours, was enough to capture the unwanted attention of a nearby group of intoxicated Illyrians.

They moved quickly.

One moment laughing amongst themselves as they stumbled along the uneven paving, and the next, they had you surrounded. Eyes ravenous and smiles sinister, they approached like a predator closing in on its prey.

The male closest to you hungrily trailed his tongue across his lips, taking a sweeping glance of your tense form before speaking, “Not lost are you sweetheart?”

The putrid scent of his foul breath was enough to make your wings curl in distaste, nose twitching with disgust as you replied curtly, “No, I’m just looking for my friend that’s all.”

You attempted to sidestep the male in order to continue on you way. Having provided them the false knowledge that someone was waiting for you, you hoped that would be enough to keep the group of inebriated males at bay.

Yet luck was not on your side tonight.

The firm grip of a calloused hand shooting out to meet your arm as the male who first spoke held you in place. “A friend?” he scoffed, knowing smile growing across his face as he made a show of checking his surroundings, lips pouting with faux disappointment as his eyes turned back to you, “I don’t see any friends.”

“Hence the looking” you spat, tearing your arm from his tight grasp as your wild eyes fluttered about in search of an exit route between the ever-nearing group of males.

Dauntingly, the largest of the warriors took a slow step towards you, wicked features half-lost to the shadows as he approached.

“You don’t need to lie sweetheart” he simpered, attempting to bring his hand to rest on your shoulder as you stumbled away from his touch. Flaring your wings in an attempt to appear more intimidating. But your action meant nothing to the male who continued to advance, “We’ll keep you company darling. What kind of gentlemen would we be if we left a pretty girl like you all alone in a place like this?”

Words lost to the rising panic growing in your chest, your gaze continued to fly around in desperation. Begging stare lost upon the disinterested faces of the passer-byers who wanted no part in the troublesome scene brewing.

In one final act of hope, you raised your fists. Ready to make a stand as you ignored the shaking of your wings and trembling of your knees. Yet your courage was wasted, sadistic laughs spilling from their lips as the males continued to move in closer, unphased by your valiant act of bravery.

But then darkness approached.

Lanterns extinguishing as the shadows crawled in.

With the light gone, the menacing grins plastered on your tormentors faces dropped, bodies tense as the dark silhouette of foreboding wings slowly crept towards them. Braced to flee as the stranger began to speak with a deadly air of calm.

“She’s not alone, she’s with me.”

~~~

You’d never had a friend before.

Windhaven had always been a place of strained alliances and disgruntled kinship. It was the last location you’d expect to see anything beautiful bloom amongst the weeds.

And yet, ever since that fateful day when the shadowsinger had swooped in to rescue you before delivering you safely home, you couldn’t quite shake the feeling that perhaps the two of you were meant to be more than amicable acquaintances.

Azriel must have shared that feeling. The male having come to find you the next day, and the day after that. Which is why it was no surprise that it didn’t take long for the two of you to become inseparable.

Those somber nights spent walking around the camp with only yourself for company were now far behind you. Rather, the young male sought you out at the end of each workday, whisking you away from your home before your father had even the chance to pick up a bottle.

It was during these nights, where the two of you would sit and talk for hours. Your conversation acting as an escape from the cruel reality of your lives. Each story told and laugh shared working to make the pair of you forget exactly what was waiting for you back at the camp.

Sometimes, the two of you didn’t even talk at all. Simply being within each other’s presence was soon enough for the two of you to be content. You never thought about your troubled father or uncertain future when you were with Azriel, you didn’t need to.

Not when being with him made you forget.

Therefore, it was no wonder that between your riveting conversations and lingering touches, you found yourself pondering exactly what your relationship with Azriel was.

That perhaps the feeling which had sparked inside of you upon your first meeting wasn’t just the need for friendship, but the desire for something greater.

And so for the first time in your life, you allowed yourself to dream.

~~~

Cassian’s frenzied appearance at your door was the last thing you had expected to see in the early hours of the morning. His chest heaving with the effort of catching his breath long enough to be able to get the words out.

“It’s. Az.”

He needn’t say another word, your feet already working to carry you away from your home as Cassian’s exhausted voice called out from behind, “The training rings, he’s at the training rings!”

You ran, feet aching and heart pounding, until you finally reached your destination. Feet dragging to a halt as your wide eyes witnessed the spine-chilling scene before you.

A bloodied Azriel, eye swollen and jaw bruised, was being torn from an equally mutilated male. Eyes savage and tongue bitter as he continued to shout unintelligible nonsense at the grounded Illyrian. Rhysand’s face turning red with the effort it was taking to restrain his hysterical friend.

“Az?” you uttered lowly, mouth parting in disbelief as you took in his manic state. Heart plunging as your eyes dropped to the weeping cuts on his blood-stained fists.

Ears pricking at your voice, Azriel’s head snapped towards you, body slacking in Rhysand’s hold as he noticed your arrival. Dark brows knitting together in shame as he shrank under your disappointed stare.

Mustering the strength to pull himself from Rhysand’s crushing grip, Azriel broke away from his friend. Casting one last lethal look towards the crumpled warrior at his feet before stalking away. Walking straight past you without so much as a glance in your direction.

“Males” you huffed with a shake of your head, struggling to tear your gaze from the macabre scene before you in order to chase after your friend.

It didn’t take you long to find him.

Azriel having predictably fled to the spot where you spent most of your time together. Retreating to the small clearing tucked deep within the forest surrounding Windhaven. No doubt needing a space far from prying eyes to clear his tempestuous thoughts.

You made to clear your throat as you approached, cautious not to startle an adrenaline-spiked Illyrian. Yet Azriel beat you to it.

“I’m not going to apologize” his gravelly voice cut through the silence of your surroundings, hazel eyes failing to meet your own as you closed the distance between you, “that bastard got what was coming to him.”

Lowering yourself to the leaf-littered ground in order to sit by his side, you took a deep breath before moving to rest your head against his tense shoulder. A soft sigh escaping from your lips before you spoke, “Are you alright? . . . Your hands -”

“Have seen worse” Azriel replied, lips twitching with the bare-bones of a smile in response to your concern, “I’m fine, truly.”

Yet his harrowed eyes told you otherwise.

Azriel’s gaze cold and absent as he stared at the forest floor.

“Why?” you simply asked, face a picture of confusion as you tried to make sense of what could have been said to elicit such a reaction from the shadowsinger.

“You wouldn’t understand” he said dismissively, shrugging as he started to pick at the laces of his boots in avoidance.

“Try me” you answered, hand moving to stop his anxious action, pulling his own into your lap to assess the damage that had been done. Hoping that if your eyes were occupied elsewhere, the male might find it easier to speak.

An hour may have passed, or perhaps only minutes, yet when Azriel finally spoke his voice commanded your attention, “He said I was unworthy of being an Illyrian.”

“That’s it?” you question, brows drawing together as you failed to understand how Azriel would let some simple little remark get under his skin in the way it had, “That’s all he said?”

Azriel released a shaky sigh, knuckles turning white underneath the caked blood as he elaborated. “I didn’t -” Azriel paused to allow a harsh exhale, “I didn’t grow up Illyrian.”

You were unable to stop the way in which your eyes left Azriel’s hand in order to flicker to his face in surprise. He had never spoken about his past before. You had always surmised that it wasn’t pretty, his scars had told you that much. But for the sake of his privacy you had never pressed him further.

Yet here he was, offering you a piece of his dark and twisted past.

“I spent most of my childhood in a cage. I couldn’t train, or fly. I didn't even have the luxury of space to spread my wings. And then . . .”

Your grip on Azriel's hand tightens as he struggled to find the words, your consoling touch giving him the strength he needed to continue, “And then my brothers thought it would be funny to test the true extent of an Illyrian’s healing gifts.”

The frigid nature of his fingers in your palm told you all you needed to know about that. Heart sinking and nausea growing as your gaze fell to the scarred contours of his hands, sickened that anyone would do that to a child – to their family.

“Then I was dumped here. Wings weak and hands frail," Azriel's frown of anger morphing into one of shame as he spoke, "and I felt . . . Useless. Eleven years old and I already knew that I was a lesser Illyrian than everybody else. All because I was never even given a chance at life.”

You wanted to speak, to comfort the male and tell him that he wasn’t the same little boy who had found himself stranded in Windhaven all those years ago, yet Azriel’s sharp inhale told you he wasn’t quite done.

“I could barely even hold a sword at training. It took years for my tendons to grow used to the strain. Even now I still have days where I struggle to even move them. . . But I worked too damn hard for anyone to tell me that I am any less of an Illyrian than they are.”

Azriel’s eyes were now swimming with tears, the male sniffling slightly as he finished what he had to say, “And when he told me that today . . . I was back to being that scared eleven-year-old boy with no friends. And I just felt worthless.”

"Never be ashamed of the things that make us” you reason, thumb moving to lightly caress the back of his scarred hand, "That's what determines a person's worth. Not their skill or ability. . . It's how hard a person fights to survive that tells you the most about them."

The shame washes from Azriel’s face, colour returning to his cheeks at your words. Soon your eyes were watering alongside his own as you gently brought your hand to meet the curve of his cheek, a soft smile gracing your lips as you spoke, “You’re not alone Az. Not anymore. You are one of the best things that has ever happened to me, and I won’t allow you to think you’re any less than that.”

Azriel stills, the tension in his shoulders easing as his grateful eyes moved to meet your own, "How is it. . . that you always know exactly what to say to make me feel better?"

You blush at the intensity of his thankful stare, ears burning red as you attempted to casually shrug away the male’s question, "Call it intuition."

Seeking to shift the male's attention from yourself, you hopped to your feet. Dusting yourself off as you offered out your hand for Azriel to take, "Come on trouble, let's go get you fixed up. I don't really think red is your colour."

And as the two of you walked back to camp, Azriel’s face now sore and aching as the adrenaline ebbed away, he wondered if he would ever have the courage to tell you that it wasn't being an Illyrian he was called unworthy of, but your love.

~~~

Spring had finally arrived at Windhaven.

The harsh conditions of winter had subsided, and the once icy camp had now thawed enough to reveal the frozen ground beneath. The shoots of new life, which had managed to outlast the chill of the dark months, now sprang forth in order to grow.

And for the Illyrian recruits, the changing of the seasons could only mean one thing.

The Blood Rite would soon commence.

All of Azriel's time had been given over to preparing for the upcoming ceremony. Hour after hour being spent in the training ring, perfecting his form, and building his strength. Whatever fleeting time you were able to have together was spent planning strategies and developing his survival skills.

You didn't mind, any time spent with Azriel was time well spent. You could even say that it was nice, witnessing the male in his element. The determination which coursed through his eyes whenever he spoke of the Blood Rite was enough to bring a proud smile to your lips.

Yet as the start of the ceremony loomed ever closer, you found yourself worrying more and more about Azriel’s well-being.

It’s not that you didn’t trust Azriel’s skill, but rather the fact that you didn’t trust the other males who would no doubt take great pleasure in besting the notorious shadowsinger.

Their leering sneers told you enough; Azriel was going to have to watch his back if he was planning on making it to Ramiel in one piece.

You did the best you could to help him, acquiring special ointments to massage into his aching hands with the hope of soothing his muscles for when the time came that he'd need to use his sword. You'd even taken to slipping various forms of mild poison into the food of the other males, praying that the toxins would keep their strength at bay long enough for Azriel to succeed.

But no amount of preparation worked to ease your anxiety as the day finally arrived. Your brow creased with worry as you stood in the square where the novice-warriors were beginning to gather, patiently waiting for Azriel to arrive in order to bid him farewell.

His confident smile, one of which he had no doubt worn for you, did nothing to sate your rising panic as he approached. Not even the soothing warmth of his comforting embrace brought you any joy. Rather, the action managed to bring tears to your eyes as you looked up to your friend in hapless despair, "Aren't I the one who's supposed to be doing the comforting?"

"You being here is enough for that" Azriel said lowly, hazel eyes squeezed tightly closed as he did his best to commit the feel of your body in his arms to memory. Not letting you part from his crushing hold until the camp leader had shouted the call for them to make their leave.

"Be safe" you choked through your tears as Azriel pulled away. His faux smile long forgotten as his expression turned into one of worry. Whether it was worry for your well-being or his own safety in the coming week, you did not know.

Azriel placed a parting kiss onto your forehead, hand lightly brushing against yours before he reluctantly began to walk away. "Always" he answered, hazel eyes never straying from you as he made his exit.

"Goodbye!" you called out after him, attempting to stretch an encouraging smile across your lips for his sake, your hand waving wildly as Azriel lifted his own to do the same. But then all of a sudden he stopped, body stiffening as though he had been struck by lightning.

Face drawn blank as he stared back at you.

"Az, what? -"

It took five steps for him to close the distance between you. Five swift steps for you to take in his dark, feral eyes. Five steps to wonder exactly what he was doing before his lips fell onto yours.

You had imagined this, the feel of his lips against yours, his tender hands wrapped around your curves as Azriel pulled you in closer.

But no dream could ever compare to the real thing.

To the feel of Azriel's soft lips molding against your own like they were made for each other. The heated desperation of the kiss working to steal your breath and weaken your knees. Each passionate swipe of his tongue and the salacious tug of your lip between his teeth, working to tell you everything that had until this moment remained unspoken.

And yet it was over all too soon.

Azriel pulling away upon the final call from his superiors, a heated breath of relief escaping from his swollen lips as he pulled away from you for the last time.

Finally turning to face his future, Azriel uttered, "No goodbyes."

This time when Azriel walked away, you allowed yourself to truly smile, eyes full of love as you enthusiastically waved goodbye until he was well out of sight.

The tears that fell, now ones of happiness as you watched the male head towards what he had worked so hard for. Heart full as you knew you needn't to be worried any longer.

Not when you knew Azriel had something worth fighting for – someone worth fighting for.

You.

Yet that feeling didn't last for long, all thoughts pulled from the shadowsinger as a heavy hand fell onto your shoulder.

Alarmed eyes shooting to the perpetrator, widening further still as they fell onto the gaunt face of your father. Eyes hollow and lips downturned as he ominously warned, "It's time girl."

~~~

It was dark when Azriel returned.

Having emerged from the rite victorious, the fortunate victors now arrived back into Windhaven to celebrate. Grins stretched across their lips as they walked towards the blazing fire where the rest of their evening was to be spent in merry enjoyment.

Yet there was no smile on the shadowsinger's face, not as he craned his neck to look past the crowd of well-wishers. Shadows aiding in his hunt by swimming through the pools of surrounding people, searching for the one face their master so longed to see.

Hoping to see the familiar smile which had carried him through the trials.

He needn't search far.

The sound of hurried footsteps filling his ears before a body collided with his own. His arms instinctively wrapping around your waist in order to pull you in closer, nose settling into the crook of your neck as he inhaled your sweet scent for the first time in a week.

"Gods, I missed you" he cried hoarsely, pulling back from the hug so as to be able to see your face again. Beaming as he brought a hand to cup your cheek, failing to notice the way in which your smile didn't quite meet your eyes. Adrenaline still rampant in his veins from the rite, Azriel wasted no time in bringing his lips to meet your own.

Where your first kiss had been rushed and desperate, this was one was slower, softer. Azriel taking his time with sweeping his lips over yours, savoring the moment in which you began to kiss him back. His worn hands working to slowly explore the length of your body as your lips danced together.

"Do you want to get out of here?" you whispered against his lips; words being met with the pearlescent grin of the shadowsinger.

Providing you with no answer, Azriel grabbed onto your hand before eagerly tugging you in the direction of his home. Too lost within his lovestruck haze to notice your unbalanced stumbles as you breathlessly trailed behind him.

"Az, where are you going? I thought we were going to celebrate!" Cassian's voice yelled after his retreating figure. Rhysand grabbed onto his brother's arm as he tugged him in the direction of the fire, a knowing smirk upon his lips as he answered, "I think he is celebrating Cas."

You were a flurry of limbs and giggles as you entered Azriel's home. Lips finding each other's once more as the pair of you became lost to your primal urges. The overwhelming need to be close to one another after only a week apart was almost too much to bear.

Sighs of intoxicated pleasure slipped from your mouth as Azriel began to trail his burning lips along the expanse of your neck. The male smirking as he slowly grazed his sharp teeth across your sensitive skin.

Needing more, Azriel moved to press your back against the wall in order to close the distance between you. Leaning in to seal your lips together once more until he was stopped by the painful cry which rang from your mouth.

It took seconds for the lust in the shadowsinger's dark eyes to fade.

Azriel's once sultry gaze growing panicked as his face contorted into a picture of horror. The amber glow of the faelight finally permissing him to see what the darkness of the night had hidden.

"Your wings!"

A shaky breath fell from Azriel's lips, hazel eyes swimming with tears as they raked over the scarred membrane of your clipped wings. Teeth bared as a low growl rumbled in his chest, "I'm going to kill him."

Fists trembling with rage, Azriel made to leave. Exhaustion after his trialing week long forgotten as the desire for revenge took an inescapable hold of him.

Yet your hands chased after him, holding onto Azriel's wrists in desperation as you looked up the male with begging eyes, "Stay. Please."

Shaking with the effort it was taking to stay put, Azriel sighed as he glances back to your wings. Jaw clenching as he cursed, "I should never have left."

Heart twinging at his self-placed blame, you pulled your lips into a sad smile, hand coming to rest against his quivering cheek, "You had to go Az, and I'm so proud of you for doing so."

A cry of protest slipped from his mouth, Azriel's eyes squeezing shut as he pressed his cheek further into your comforting hand. Voice breaking as he spoke, "They wouldn't have touched you if I was here."

"It was bound to happen eventually" you truthfully stated, "At least I was fortunate enough to keep mine, others aren't so lucky."

Azriel inhaled sharply, pulling you into a soft hug, careful not to disturb your fragile wings, "That doesn't make this any less right."

"No" you agreed, nuzzling deeper into Azriel's chest. His familiar scent a welcoming reminder that you were safe. No one could hurt you again, not whilst you were in Azriel’s arms. Content to stay in his embrace forever, you spoke, "But I have you, and that's all I need for now."

"I'll get you out of here" Azriel promised, loosening his hold on you just enough to allow his serious eyes to meet your own, "I don't know when. Or where we'll go. But I'll get you out. We’ll never have to see this damn camp again.”

"Together?" you asked, needing reassurance that you wouldn't have to face your uncertain future alone.

"Together" Azriel smiled.

~~~

"Stop peeking!" Azriel chided, unable to stop the smile of contentment which spread across his lips as you giggled at the sensation of his warm breath tickling the skin of your neck.

"I'm not!" you promised, chuckling as Azriel's palm moved to better cover your lightly closed eyes.

The shadowsinger hummed in disagreement, his free hand coming to curl around your stomach. Pulling you closer into his chest as he led you deeper into the forest.

"You're going to make me fall" you warned with a laugh, stumbling as Azriel's legs bumped against your own. The male's arms moving to hold you tighter still, soft lips brushing against your ear as he whispered, "So long as you're in my arms, I will never let you fall."

Thankful that Azriel couldn't see your rising blush, you allowed him to walk you towards whatever surprise he had planned. Satisfied the shadowsinger would keep you safe, you tightly squeezed your eyes shut.

Putting your trust into the males loving hands.

You needn't walk much further, Azriel gently pulling you to a stop as the warmth of the evening breeze began to kiss your cheeks. The heat of the setting sun working to banish the chill that had settled in your bones as you moved through the shadowed forest.

"Ok angel," Azriel purred, the hand covering your face moving to your shoulder as he placed a swift kiss upon your temple, "take a look."

Your eyes fluttered open, squinting as the amber glow of the evening flooded into your vision. Heart pleasantly aching at the view that greeted you once your gaze came into focus.

"It's beautiful Az" you softly gasped, mouth parting in awe as you took in the picturesque scene before you. The slowly setting sun, inching ever closer towards the horizon. The ghostly silhouette of the towering mountains in the distance. The woolen blanket, carefully laid across the ground before you.

"It is" Azriel answered, tender eyes never leaving your delicate features.

Reluctantly tearing your gaze from the breathtaking view, you turned back to Azriel with a crease between your brows, "But why? . . . I've not forgotten something important have I?"

"No, not at all. I just wanted to do something nice for you" Azriel reassured. His hands moving to gently cup your cheeks in order to pull your loving eyes to meet his own. But you didn't fail to miss the rising pool of sadness which swam amongst his affectionate gaze.

"What is it?" you asked, your once peaceful expression now morphing into one of worry, "What's wrong?"

A low sigh fell from the male's lips, Azriel's forehead gingerly coming to rest against yours, "I've been given my orders, the High Lord asked for me himself. . . I am to leave tomorrow."

Your heart sank, mouth growing dry upon the realization that this would be your last night together for a while. But this was what Azriel had always dreamed of, having a purpose. Having worth. And so you would not allow yourself to be selfish and ruin that dream.

"T-that's great Az" you exclaimed, forcing a proud smile onto your lips, "You've worked so hard for this."

"But you-" Azriel contested, ever the selfless Illyrian.

"Will still be here when you return" you reassured him, moving to place a sweet kiss onto his forehead.

Azriel's eyes softly closed at your gesture, a shaky breath drawing from his lips before he quietly spoke, your heart aching at his solemn words, "I just wish we had more time."

"We have time now" you soothed, blinking away your tears before taking Azriel's hand into your own, gently pulling him towards the waiting blanket, "Let this night be our forever."

There, wrapped in Azriel's embrace, the two of you sat and talked as though you had all the time in the world. Because there, sat within the comfort of his arms, the fading amber of the setting sun before you, it felt as though you did.

"Azriel?" you quietly ask once the conversation had dwindled into a peaceful silence.

"Hmm?" he replied, hazel eyes sweeping over your face in question. His hand moving to lovingly tuck a stray piece of hair behind your ear.

"Kiss me."

Wordlessly, Azriel brought his thumb to slowly brush across your lip. Hooded gaze growing dark as a radiant smile crossed his face. Leaning in to huskily whisper in your ear, "How lucky I am, to have been blessed by an angel as beautiful as you."

And then his lips crashed to yours.

It was a heated battle of tongues and teeth. Azriel biting back a groan at the softness of your lips as they worked against his own. Your intoxicating scent delectably filling his senses until Azriel's thoughts were consumed only by you.

Moving to sit in his lap, you desperately pulled at the top of his leathers. Azriel aiding you in removing the item before your warm hands instantly moved to explore the vast expanse of his muscular chest. Mouth coming back to meet his own as you playfully nipped at the shadowsinger's lips, eliciting a soft whimper from the male who found himself entirely at your mercy.

Skirt bunching at your hips, you broke the kiss to slip your dress from your body. Nipples pebbling as the cool evening air hit your breasts. Azriel's hands froze, hovering over the curves of your waist, lustful gaze turning hesitant as his touch shied from your unblemished skin.

Seeking to quell his hesitance, you brought your hands to meet his own, lightly kissing the scarred flesh before whispering a soft truth, "You're perfect, Az." Hips moving to grind against his hardening member as you reiterated, "Every last inch of you is perfect."

Slowly, you raised Azriel's tense hands to rest against your breasts, the supple skin working to ease his trembling until the dark cloud of desire pooled in his eyes once more. His once stiff fingers relaxing as they began to work your breasts, the male smiling softly as cries of pleasure began to spill from your lips.

Unable to help the way your hips were bucking in desperation, you moved to unlace Azriel's pants as his swollen lips came to gently suck the sensitive skin of your neck, tongue working to trail over each of the purple marks left behind. A low groan escaping from his mouth as you pulled his aching cock from his leathers, twitching as you moved to wrap your hand around his length.

Azriel's hands flew to your waist as he made to flip you over. However, unwilling to hand over your control so easily, your firm hands moved to keep him beneath you. The smoky tendrils of his shadows creeping in to hold their master in place.

Eyebrows knitting together in protest, Azriel made to argue. Yet your teasing words beat him to it, "Poor Illyrian baby." Hand coming to rest on the center of his chest, you languidly rolled your hips against his leaking cock, "Relax, Azriel. Let me take care of you."

Moaning at the sound of his name on your lips, Azriel settled with placing his hands on your hips. The shadowsinger lifting you up in order to allow the head of his cock to slip between your soaking folds.

Inhaling deeply, you lower yourself onto him. Your soft whimper meeting Azriel's guttural cry as you sunk until he was fully sheathed inside of you. Allowing you the time to adjust, Azriel placed sweet kisses along your collarbones. Whispers of how perfect your heat felt wrapped around his cock tumbled from his lips, distracting you from the twinge of pain which had risen from the unfamiliar stretch.

Only when the ache had subsided, and your desire for more had become all too overwhelming, did you then move your hands to Azriel's shoulders. Clutching onto the shadowsinger for support as you began to move. Slowly raising your hips before sinking back down onto his cock once more.

It didn't take the two of you long to find a pleasurable rhythm.

Azriel's bruising grip on your waist working to pull your body down in time to meet his forceful thrusts. Incoherent mumblings of pleasure slipping from your lips as Azriel fucked you with a brutal pace.

It was only when you were nearing your high, and you wanted Azriel to ride the wave of pleasure alongside you, did you stretch your hand out to rake a teasing finger along the sensitive membrane of his wing. Azriel's cock pulsating inside of you as the male stilled, a strangled shout falling from his mouth at your action.

Pleased with the male's reaction, you repeated the motion, nail brushing against his twitching wings once more. A low growl rumbled in Azriel's chest, eyes blown black as he moved to flip the two of you over. Your own wings stretching out in order to allow you to comfortably lie on your back.

Azriel's cock never leaving your heat for a moment as he continued his unforgiving pace. Stars blurring your vision as his relentless pounding pulled you nearer and nearer to completion.

And then the wave crashed over you, vision turning white as a scream of pleasure tore from your lips. Azriel continuing his merciless thrusts as he chased after his own high, hands falling to your hips to try and steady your spasming body.

It wasn’t long after that Azriel followed suit, thrusts faltering as he came with a hoarse groan. The male exhaling a soft sigh of satisfaction as he withdrew himself from your core, arms caging your body as he rolled over in order to pull you on top of his chest.

Panting, Azriel raised a hand to brush the stray wisps of hair from your face. Eyes blowing wide with realization as he found himself unable to stop the words which fell from his lips next, "I love you."

Your breath caught in your throat, teary gaze looking to Azriel as your lips parted wordlessly. You had waited years for this, to hear the words you thought you would never be fortunate enough to hear. And now the moment had come you found yourself utterly incapable of expressing the undying devotion you felt for the male in front of you.

"I love you" Azriel repeated, unphased by your lack of an immediate answer, "I always have, from that very first day. All it took was one look and I knew you were it for me."

Tears welling in his hazel eyes, Azriel takes in a shaky breath before he continues, "I love you like the sun loves the moon. So much so that I would die every night, so only to let you breathe."

A sob escaped from your lips, your hand moving to rest against Azriel's cheek in order to allow your thumb to gently catch each falling tear. "Shadows" you corrected with a small smile, Azriel's expression morphing into one of confusion, "I love you like the sun loves the shadows. That I would give up my light, so only to see you dance."

Softly, you brought your lips to his. And even with the smallest of kisses, you were able to show the eternal nature of your love.

"I don't want to go" Azriel weakly cried, his words bringing you back to the unfair reality you had been dealt.

It was your turn to lovingly brush his dark hair back, matching tears falling down your own cheeks as you answered, "It's not forever. We'll see each other again."

"I'll come say goodbye tomorrow morning" he promised, sorrowful voice cracking as he spoke.

"No goodbyes, Az" you said with a bittersweet smile, moving to rest your head against his chest in order to savor your remaining time together.

As you watched the night crawl in, and the warm hues of the day had long since melted into the inky darkness; you wondered if the sun yearns for the comfort of night. In the same way you yearned for the comfort of his shadows.

~~~

Azriel's absence took a toll on you.

Your joy-filled days once spent in his company were now long forgotten as the mundane reality of life without the shadowsinger had finally come to pass.

It was as though Azriel had taken all the warmth with him when he left. The absent presence of his comforting embrace allowing the bitter chill of Windhaven to permanently settle into the marrow of your bones.

The arrival of each new month a cruel reminder that you had been left behind. Spite festering within your heart upon realization that your fate, alongside that of every other female's here, was forever bound to the camp.

Yet the dark clouds brewing overhead signaled a change in the wind.

War was coming to Prythian.

Whispers of skirmishes arising between the faeries and the mortals travelled like wildfire throughout the camp. All eyes warily looking up to the approaching storm which was steadily growing above the shadowed mountains of Illyria.

It was the males who left first, called to action by their High Lord.

You watched them leave through your frosted window, wondering if Azriel would be waiting for them at their final destination. Pondering what life would have in store for them now that they were free from the burdensome shackles of the prisonous camp. Ultimately knowing that they would fare no better in the future that awaited them at the frontlines.

The next sign that the war had finally arrived was the diminishing supplies. Even miles away from the nearest frontier, the conflict didn't leave Windhaven untouched.

Wartime Illyria was not a place for luxuries. Materials were growing scarce and food even more so, all your valuable recourses having been sent to the warriors in the mortal lands. Your father growing increasingly insufferable as his forced sobriety from the rationed drinks plagued him like an unquenchable thirst.

And then a stranger arrived at your camp.

A male from Dawn, skilled in the art of medicine, seeking aid in healing the countless victims left wounded from the violet acts of war.

Unsurprisingly, the hostile inhabitants of Windhaven all turned their noses up at his cry for help, unwilling to risk their lives on the battlefield for the sake of another's. Yet to you, the call for aid was a blessing. An invitation for you to do the one thing you've always wanted to.

Leave.

So for once in your life you allowed yourself to be selfish.

You didn't think about whether Azriel would return for you - far too many years had passed for you to still think that was a possibility. You didn't even think about your hopeless father, who without your help would surely succumb to his toxic lifestyle.

You only thought about the little girl who used to dream of seeing the world. Bright-eyed and unbroken as she spent her days wishing for someone to come and save her from the iron cage she called her home.

But no one was coming for you, you understood that now.

And so, longing to make a name for yourself in a kinder world, you answered the call.

Walking away from Windhaven without so much as a glance at the life you were leaving behind.

~~~

Azriel was dreaming again.

Dreaming of you.

Of moonlit encounters and sun-kissed embraces.

Glowing smiles and heated kisses.

And at the center of it all, you.

Yet when he wakes the sheets are cold and bare.

But the ghost of you never strays far from Azriel's mind.

~~~

His mornings always started the same.

Azriel rudely torn from his sweetened dreams by the coming of a new day. Chest unnaturally empty as he gathered the will to crawl out from the security of his sheets.

A stranger in his own home, he drifts downstairs.

Spending breakfast alongside the beaming faces of his brothers and their equally contented mates. The shadowsinger a silent observer of their animated conversations, only ever sparing a grunt of acknowledgement whenever the discussion turned his way.

Their gleeful smiles a glaring reminder to Azriel that he still hadn't found the missing piece of his soul. Tender heart aching as he longed to find the same overwhelming sense of happiness that his family shared around him. Unaware of his brother's concerned stares as they watched him slowly turn into a shell of the male he used to be.

Their worry growing, as with each passing day Azriel became more and more like one of his shadows.

Silent and unyielding.

Yet Azriel found himself helpless when it came to fighting the crushing feeling that he was to forever remain alone. Unable to sit there and watch his friends fall in love without wondering why the cauldron hadn't dealt him the same blessed fate.

Your haunting presence never failing to return to the forefront of his mind as Azriel feared that his first love was also bound to be his last.

~~~

Wallowing seemed to be Azriel's new favourite past time.

Even in the company of his friends and family, the shadowsinger failed to ever truly let the lines of his smile meet his eyes. Mind numb and heart aching, Azriel's increasingly glum attitude did not make for the most pleasant of companies.

Yet, unable to sit around as her friend slowly became half the male he used to be, Feyre decided that she wouldn't allow the Illyrian to pull away without putting up a fight. Adamant that the Azriel she used to know was simply hidden away, the Lady of Night wondered if perhaps the soothing touch of a woman was all that the male needed in order for his depressive episode to lift.

And so, having ignored Rhysand's warnings that trying to force love onto the shadowsinger would be a bad idea, Feyre began her master plan.

She started small.

Testing the waters by suggesting to Azriel that it would be nice for him to step into Velaris's dating scene. Casually mentioning that a friend of hers was looking for a partner and she thought the pair of them would be well-matched.

Much to her dismay, her efforts were met with no result, Azriel's gruff reply being a crude remark that if her friend were so desperate for a partner then she may have better luck searching in a brothel.

However, not one to give up so easily, Feyre persisted.

Each passing day bringing about new opportunities for her to share the news of a potential love interest that she believes the male should indulge in.

In the beginning, Azriel found amusement in Feyre periodically showing up at his door. He'd even feign interest as the female listed off the attributes of yet another young maiden she claimed would be perfect for him. Smiling along encouragingly as she spoke before ultimately shutting his door in her face.

But what the male hadn't predicted, was just how far Feyre would go in order to secure the happiness of her friend.

Determined that Azriel would find love so only he tried, the High Lady had neglected to tell the shadowsinger about his evening plans until the hour of his date was already upon him.

Feyre merrily bouncing on her heels as she broke the news to the male, excitable grin plastered across her lips as she waited in bated anticipation for Azriel's appreciative reaction.

But it never came.

Instead, Azriel's face turned deathly pale as his eyes briefly flickered over to the young woman standing besides Feyre, a shy smile gracing her face as she waited for the shadowsinger to greet her.

"What is this?" Azriel asked roughly. Taking the time to swallow the rising storm of anger which had settled on his tongue, the male well aware that Feyre's friend was just an innocent victim in the Lady of Night's game.

"This is your date, Az" Feyre said encouragingly, "It's time to put yourself out there."

The thundering whispers of his shadows were impossible to ignore.

Not her, they cried into his ears. Not her.

Azriel willed himself a stretched smile, chest tight and breathing difficult as he turned to Feyre's friend, "I apologize miss, my High Lady has chosen to lead you here under false pretenses, I'm not looking for a partner. Please allow me to walk you home."

Feyre's face fell in dejection, lips parted in surprise as her bewildered gaze fell upon Azriel's unrevealing expression, "But . . . I thought-"

"You thought wrong," Azriel interjected, hurt shining through his furious stare, "We'll discuss you and your thoughts once I've taken your friend home."

Feyre was still there upon Azriel's return, her face a picture of fury as the male walked through the door, "What was that?"

"What was that?" Azriel scoffed, his booming voice echoing against the hollow walls of the house's entryway, "What the fuck were you thinking Feyre?"

The female shrunk under Azriel's burning gaze, ears turning red with embarrassment as she quietly answered, "I was just trying to help. . . I thought you wanted to find love."

"I had love!" Azriel shouted in response. His outburst enough to have gathered Rhysand's attention as the High Lord winnowed into the room, rushing towards his teary mate's side.

"I had love" Azriel repeated lowly, voice cracking as he spoke, "And look how well that turned out for me."

"That's not Feyre's fault Az" Rhysand answered in defense of his mate, tone calm and steady as he worked to ebb away his brother's rising anger, "She didn't know."

"No, she didn't" Azriel replied solemnly, accusatory stare turning to the High Lord, "But you did and yet you still let her do it. . . But it's fine! Let's all play with Azriel's heart because we need some entertainment."

Rhysand's mouth dropped open, failing to find an answer that his brother deserves to hear. A cold laugh of disbelief fell from Azriel's lips, the male shaking his head as he began to walk away, "You know why I can't move on Rhys. Why I never will."

It was in that moment, whilst Rhysand watched Azriel's retreating figure, did the male then realize what all this was about. That it wasn't love that Azriel had been searching for all these years; it was you.

~~~

He came at night.

The firelight cowering in his presence.

Its amber flames licking at the darkness which had arrived alongside him. Those familiar violet eyes twinkling through the shadows as your High Lord slowly stepped into the light.

"My, my" Rhysand crooned, lips pulling into a cheshire smile, "You are a difficult woman to find."

"Rhys?" you ask in disbelief, resisting the urge to pinch yourself. Afraid of waking up from whatever strange dream your mind had conjured, "What are you doing here?"

"What I should have done centuries ago. . ." Rhysand answered, his charming smile failing to hide the worry which danced in his telling eyes, "I'm taking you home."

~~~

Azriel had grown up listening to the tales of men who claimed to have seen the Mother.

Their stories full of mighty wonder as they spoke of a being so perfect that her beauty alone was enough to drive even the strongest of males to the brink of insanity.

He had never believed them of course. Having laughed at their foggy eyes and lovesick expressions, believing their drunken words to have been no more than what they were. Fairytales.

But there you were.

Smile just as warm as he remembered, features just as soft.

Standing there in ethereal beauty as you waited for the shadowsinger to approach. Yet all Azriel could do was stare, wordless mouth parted in shock as the realization dawned on him that this was the closest he would ever get to seeing the Mother herself.

Azriel's hand flew to his chest. Never having imagined that after all this time your beauty would still have the power to disarm him just as it had done the day you first met. Unable to stop the cry of joy which fell from his lips as his dormant heart sparked to life. Eyes closing in relief as he felt the familiar comfort of its rhythmic pounding once more.

His love reborn as your two souls reunited once more.

"Hi Az" you beam, hand coming to rest against his tear-stained cheek, your voice coaxing the trembling male to open his hazel eyes, "I've missed you."

Stunned speechless, all Azriel could do was cry.

Weeping as you wrapped your arms around his shoulders, the two of you sinking to the floor as he fell into the comfort of your loving embrace. The recognizable scent of your sweet aroma finally spurring his words into existence, "I came back for you."

You inhaled sharply at his words, pulling away from the hug in order to meet his sincere gaze. "After the war" he explained, stumbling over his words in an attempt to get them out, "I wanted to bring you to Velaris. . . But you weren't there. They told me that you were gone, that you were never coming back."

Hushing the male you moved his head to rest against your chest, running your fingers through his dark hair in attempt to calm him. Your own tears running down your face at the realization that Azriel had come back for you.

That he hadn't forgotten you.

"I'm here now" you promised softly, gently placing a kiss atop of the shadowsinger's head, "And I'm not going anywhere-"

You barely managed to get the words out before Azriel's lips crashed onto yours. Whimpering at the familiar sensation of his soft lips against your own. Five hundred years, that's how long you had yearned for this. For his mouth, his touch, his warmth.

Azriel pulled away, lifting his hands to your face in order to wipe away the stay tears which remained. "I love you" he blurted, hazel eyes sparking with life as he said the words, "cauldron I love you."

An overjoyed laugh tumbled from your lips, your tender smile wide as you listened to what Azriel had to say.

"No more waiting" Azriel begged, "I've already wasted five hundred years that should have been spent by your side. But not anymore. . . I'll spend the next five hundred years telling you just how much I love you. . . So long as you still want me that is, if there isn't anyone else."

"Want you?" you asked in surprise, "I'm already yours Az, I always have been. So just as they were the first, let your lips be the last to ever kiss mine. Because you're it for me Az, there is no one else."

You didn't need to ask again, Azriel bringing his lips to meet yours once more. Taking his time to pour all of his love into the action before pulling away to whisper a promise against your parted lips, "I'll never leave you again, not as long as I live."

"I won't let you" you answer, pulling the male into another crushing hug, "I'm never letting go of you again."

It was there, wrapped within your embrace on the floor of his home, that Azriel finally allowed himself to believe that everything was going be ok. Because how could it not be when his happiness had finally returned. The shadowsinger safe with the knowledge that at the end of the night, the sun will rise.

[nimbusclan]

Moon 5 Part 2

[Previous] [Start] [Next]

Moonstar gasps awake, sitting up so fast she rams her head into the thick underside of a low-hanging branch that she and her brother had spent the night taking turns sleeping under. They’ve been doing that, taking turns – who knows what things are lurking out here in the dark, so far from home.

If they can't go back, does it still count as home? 

“Ow…” Moonstar groans, a sharp throb pounding against her skull. What a way to start the morning.

Fogfreckle ducks his head underneath one of the branches, sweeping past the leaves to gaze curiously at his sister. He tilts his head questioningly, mouth open to ask what’s wrong, when the words die on his tongue and his eyes widen.

“Fogfreckle!” Moonstar mews excitedly, leaping to her paws. “You’ll never guess what happened!”

“Your– your forehead,” Fogfreckle croaks. “You… were visited by StarClan?”

“What about my forehead?” Moonstar asks, confused and distracted. She presses a paw against her head to see if perhaps she’s bleeding, but her paw doesn’t come away warm or wet. The rest of her brother’s words filter to her slowly through the dull throb of pain and the fog of the early hour. She pouts. “Yeah, Star– how did you guess so quick?”

“There’s– your forehead. You have a star. A leader’s star.”

Moonstar’s pout deepens. “Well. That kind of steals my thunder.”

“Moonpool, what happened?”

“Moonstar now, actually.” Moonstar grins. “StarClan visited me in my dreams and granted me my nine lives. Isn’t that crazy? I didn’t even have to– there was no–” Moonstar’s tongue can hardly keep up with everything that’s swirling in her brain, the experience of her leader’s ceremony playing back to her as if memory and not just dream. “NimbusClan lives on, Fogfreckle. In us, just like you said. We’re to lead NimbusClan into its new future.”

“‘We’?” Fogfreckle asks weakly, jaw slack with disbelief.

“Of course, ‘we’!” Moonstar laughs, bounding closer to her brother. She feels so full of life, coursing through her like the widest, wildest river. “I wouldn’t be here if not for you, you know that. Besides, what’s a leader without her deputy?”

“Deputy?” Fogfreckle repeats, dumbstruck.

“What are you, a raven?” Moonstar laughs. “Yes, deputy! As leader, I’m appointing you as deputy of NimbusClan, Fogfreckle.”

Fogfreckle swells with pride, pale chest fluffed out as he inhales a shaky breath. “I– yes, Moonstar. Thank you.”

“Don’t get all formal on me, now. You’re my brother first, deputy second.”

“So, we really are still a Clan.” He grins, then the expression fades from his face somewhat. His eyes take on an earnest shine. “Did you… I know you’re not supposed to talk about the ceremony, but… when you visited StarClan, did you… did you see our parents?”

Moonstar smiles gently, heart squeezing painfully in her chest. Dad had told her to tell Fogfreckle that their parents miss him, too, so surely StarClan won’t be displeased if she shares just that much? “Yes. I saw them. Mom and Dad. They told me to tell you they miss you.”

Fogfreckle hiccups, stepping close to push his head hard against Moonstar’s.

“I wish you could have seen them too,” She adds in a whisper, nuzzling into his dawn-warmed fur. The sun is just starting to crest the side of the mountain on its way up, crawling lazily into the sky. Greenleaf heat creeps on silent, soft paws across her pelt. It’ll be humid later, but for now, it’s pleasant.

“Maybe they’ll walk in my dreams one day, too.”

“I hope so.” Moonstar presses one more smile into his fur and then pulls back, squaring her shoulders in what she hopes is a leaderly fashion. It’s only her brother, but she may as well start getting used to playing the role. “Alright, deputy. What’s our first order of business?”

Fogfreckle grins. “How about breakfast? I could go for some eggs.”

“Perfect idea.”

Both cats stretch out their paws and take off, bounding up the mountain.

[Previous] [Start] [Next]

[my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction]

Can you imagine sitting on Blue's lap and doing his eyeliner in the morning? The way he'd stare at you?? 😩💗

Ohhhhh nooooooooooooooooo, this gave me so many (too many) thoughts, I am so sorry it turned into this <3

Manners

Blue Jones x afab!Reader • Rating: 18+ pals Masterlist• ao3• want to be tagged? | request info • ko-fi •

Warnings: Blue being a grumpy little shit, sub!Blue a bit, Blue having a think for being choked, not beta read, please let me know if I have missed a warning!

Word Count: 411

“Sit still.”

“I am.”

“Are not.”

Blue scowls at you, wrinkling his nose ever so slightly in disdain. “I don’t like your tone.” 

“Yes, you do.” You answer without pause and shift a little on his lap, your knees are either side of his thighs, the smoky kohl eyeliner in one hand. 

His frown deepens and you tut, rolling your eyes at his theatrics. 

“You could do this yourself, you know?” You take hold of his chin with your free hand, your grip firm and fingers cool as you tilt his head a fraction so you can work without his constant fidgeting. 

You expect a snappy retort, or rude word, but get neither. For a blissfully long moment, he’s surprisingly quiet. And still. 

His heartbeat thunders under your fingers, his breathing short and shallow as if he’s trying his best to stay as silent as possible. His lips are parted as you press the pencil to his skin, just lightly skimming with the softest touch. 

“I’m not going to poke your eyes out, you know?” You tease. 

“I know.” He says softly, his eyes flicker to your face for a second and it’s only now that you pay full attention that you can see how dark and dilated they are. 

“Well, you’re tense as fuck,” you swallow, trying to focus on doing his makeup. “Acting like I’ve got a knife to your throat.” 

He gulps audibly and you spare him a glance. He holds your gaze, but it’s not full of the defiant arrogance you’re used to. 

“Do you want me to hold a knife to your throat?” You tease lightly, trying to cover your own interest. 

“Fuck off.” He bites back, but his words are lacking his usual snarl. 

You grin. “I think you do actually, I think you’d quite like for me to pin you down and-”

He grumbles loudly, quickly wrapping his arms around your waist and pressing his face into your chest. In turn, forcing his throat further into your hand. He bites back a moan as you hold back a chuckle. 

After a few moments, you can’t resist antagonising him further. “Want me to choke you while I jack you off?” 

Blue snaps his head back so that he can give you one of his trademark glares - it would be menacing if you weren’t so used to it by now. 

“Yes.” He purses his lips when you quirk an eyebrow at him, and then huffs. “Please.” 

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[kisakis-boyfriend]

♦️ Platonic Ciel x Older Brother Figure?

Say Ciel has a close coworker, family friend or even a servant who is a few years older then him (15-17, teenage age around), and one night Ciel is having a panic attack.

IN SWOOPS OLDER BROTHER FIGURE TO THE RESCUE

Bonus points if the reader knows about Sebastian and refuses to let him around Ciel when the kid is vulnerable

Pairings: None

Warnings: Male!reader, servant!reader, hurt/comfort, panic attack comfort, reader's past is implied to be a bit dark

The night was calm — a few clouds passing in front of the moon, bringing it in and out of view, a chilly breeze fluttering the curtains by the open window, and the sound of silence presiding over everything in and around the Phantomhive Estate. Yet, you couldn't shake this odd feeling stirring in your stomach.

Something didn't feel quite right…but what?

Was this nagging feeling because you forgot one of your duties? Thinking back through your day, you recount all of your chores as a mental checklist and nothing seems amiss there.

Was there an important event tomorrow that you need to wake up extra early for? No, no one mentioned anything about any meeting or public figure visiting tomorrow.

It was really starting to give you a headache now… everything was in its place, but this gut feeling was beginning to make you nauseous. You know something's not right; somewhere in this place.

You mulled over your next course of action—eyes darting around like you were watching a mosquito fly right in front of your face—and finally settled on your next move: you'll take a quick walk around the manor. Down a couple hallways, by the young master's bedroom. Just a quick pass, make sure he's safe and asleep, then you'll wait and see how you feel after that.

Keeping quiet when you're worried isn't particularly easy to do, but you do try to avoid the creaky floorboards, and make use of the rugs to muffle your footsteps. Master Ciel's door was just a few steps away; all you have to do is stand outside and listen.

…

…

…

“Can't… I can't…”

A sob came from the other side of the door, and that was all you needed for your protective nature to make you spring into action. You knocked on the door lightly, “Master? Are you alright?”

As you knocked, the door slowly opened wide enough for you to make out two figures; the young master, sitting upright on his bed, and the head butler, Sebastian, kneeling in front of him. Ciel is clutching his chest, staring at the floor with shaking, unfocused eyes as Sebastian notices your presence.

The raven haired butler turns his head towards you, and you question “Sebastian, what's going on?”

“It seems that the young master had a terrible nightmare.” he explains, “What on Earth are you still doing up, y/n?”

You turn your gaze downward before answering “W-well… I had this strange feeling that something was a bit off. I just… just wanted to make sure the master was ok before I turned in.” your voice came out a bit shakier than you intended it to, but how could it not when you're so worried about him?

Sebastian gives a soft, assuring smile as he speaks. “I see, what good intuition you have there. However, I have the situation taken care of, so you can rest soundly n–”

“Um… can I… handle this one?” you interrupt. The head butler looks surprised to hear you ask something so bold, giving a whispered 'what' in return.

“I have experience with this kind of thing. I think I can help.” you smile sheepishly, half ashamed to even admit that out loud. You meet Sebastian's gaze and it's obvious that he's skeptical—you can practically see his mind pondering the offer behind his ruby eyes—but he sees something in you that proves you're being truthful right now. He motions for you to enter, then steps out, shutting the door with a 'click' as he leaves.

Your attention turns back to Ciel. The sight of your younger master is worrisome, yet all too familiar — heavy, labored breathing, unfocused eyes, face covered in sweat, and little awareness of his surroundings; he is, indeed, experiencing a panic attack of sorts.

You cautiously sit next to him on the bed, speaking with a gentle tone so you won't startle him, “Young master, it's alright, you're awake now. Whatever happened in that dream is over.”

While his breathing remains ragged and hurried, you pick up on the way his head turns toward you slightly, as if acknowledging your presence and paying attention to your words, at least a little. “Can you try to take a deep breath with me? Follow my count; breathe in… and out… One more time, in… and out…” Ciel is able to mimic you for the most part, his inhale stutters a bit, but this has already helped to prevent more hyperventilating.

“Good job! That's not always easy, I know.” you reassure, smiling solemnly as flashes of your past reappear in your mind. “Would you like my hand? You can squeeze it if you need to, it won't hurt me, I promise.” you laugh.

Ciel's gaze is fixed on your outstretched hand. While you are still in uniform, your gloves are missing. He reaches out, grabbing your hand as he trembles unwillingly. That little bit of human connection is so foreign to the young child — most of the time, the comforting touch comes from a gloved hand, which feels all too distant; too… lonely.

“Do you… want to talk about it?”

His grip tightened at the suggestion. “…No…”

Immediately reinforcing his boundaries, you reply “That's alright, you don't have to. But if you change your mind, not a word of it will leave this room, I swear it on my honor as a Phantomhive butler.”

The young master shakily exhales, and though he doesn't reply back, you're sure he understands the truth in your promise.

You ponder your next move for a second, peeking at the door to Ciel's room to make sure there's no crack between it and the doorframe. Once you're sure that the head butler isn't spying on you, you lean in and whisper “I know it's late, and I'm sure you've already had your teeth brushed, but…” a small piece of chocolate is slowly pulled from your front coat pocket as you ask, “would something sweet help?”

The young master blinks a few times, a little dumbfounded as he wonders “Do you always keep sweets on your person?”

“Mm, I do now. After all, you never know when a bit of emergency chocolate will come in handy.” You joke. You've been trying to convince yourself that this habit didn't form solely because of your new master — that it was beneficial to keep a few treats on hand in case you run into an upset child on the street, or any child, really — but, in truth, the young master was the person on your mind when you initially made the decision.

You sat in mildly uncomfortable silence for a moment before speaking again. “It appears you've calmed down quite a bit. How are you feeling now?”

Ciel stares at the candy in his hand, speaking more in his usual tone. “Better.”

“Very good,” you sign in relief, “I'm glad to hear that.” your smile turns into a frown as you ask, “Um, Master, would you like to be alone now? I wouldn't want to overstay my welcome or prevent you from falling asleep…”

“NO!” the younger boy exclaims. With the speed at which he turned towards you, you're afraid he may have pulled something. “Stay… please stay…” he croaks.

His sudden brashness startles you—all you can do is stare into his misty eyes as he pleads with you. “O-oh, sorry… If you really want me to stay, then I will!” this appears to ease the tension as Ciel loosens his grip on your hand. “But… you should at least get under the covers again, young master. Lest you fall asleep right here and catch a cold.”

Ciel relents, but only after you promise again to stay with him. You help him climb underneath the soft sheets and begin to tuck him in when he says “I… want you to… ahem… to sit with me.”

“O-oh! I can do that–” you attempt to sit on the edge of the bed again, but your young master stops you, correcting his statement.

“No, I meant under the covers… with me…” The request sounds so unlike the Ciel Phantomhive you know, and yet, you sense the earnestness behind every word. Besides, how are you going to turn down his request when he's staring through you with puffy, red eyes? He's not even calling for Sebastian either, like he usually does for all of his problems—small or large.

“…Young Master, I'm still wearing shoes, won't they–”

“Just get in!” he sighs, exasperated. At this point, you have more than enough confirmation that he's fine with this. So, you lift up the sheets long enough to scoot in next to him, sitting stiffly as your shoulder brushes against your master's.

Silence hangs in the air, creating an uncomfortable atmosphere until Ciel speaks up, in a small voice. “When you mentioned having experience with this earlier, what did you mean by that?”

You turn toward him, surprised. “You heard that? I mean– you remember when I said that?” The fact that Master Ciel not only paid attention to, but is interested in something that you said is definitely a foreign situation. Nevertheless, you begin explaining, “Well, you see… I have quite some experience with night terrors–”

As you speak, Ciel slowly leans on your shoulder, not once interrupting your story. “At one point, I would have them every single night… I felt like I was going mad. One moment, I was huddled under my blanket, and the next, all of my past demons came to haunt me. I thought it might never end.” you yawn, leaning your head over until it rests on top of the young master's head. “But, you know something? My nightmares have lessened after working here…” another long, hard yawn, making it impossible for you to keep your eyes open any longer. “…I feel like… I can let my past go…and…finally have… a purpose…”

Silence once again fills the room — a much more gentle silence this time, as Ciel drifts off, and you drift off with him, comfortable in each other's presence.

[hawkinsbnbg]

standin' at that altar, or we will run away

prompt: sneaking around | @steddiesmuttyseptember

tags: exes to lovers, bathroom sex, daddy kink, barebacking, creampie, top Eddie, possessive Eddie, bottom Steve, babygirl Steve, steddie in love.

word count: 1k7 | rated: E | ao3

Steve sipped his wine and sighed inwardly. It was too early to ingest the alcohol, but knowing his parents would criticize him no matter what, he didn't have any reason to behave himself.

If they thought being late was a power move, then he should be allowed to drink all of their expensive wine.

At least, he snorted humorlessly, waiting for them was better than another blind date.

Steve was a little tipsy when he finally saw him.

Black suit jacket, white open-collared, ironed trousers, and shiny shoes. His long curls were pulled up in a ponytail, tattoos visible on the back of his hands and fingers—adorned with silver chunky rings.

Since the restaurant wasn't exactly packed, it was criminally easy to pick out a familiar face among the sea of dining patrons.

Steve knew he was staring, but Eddie Munson wouldn't be a thorn in his side if the man stopped looking good even for a second.

Especially when he dressed up, a once-in-a-blue-moon thing that would make Steve weak in the knees.

He watched Eddie empty a glass of water and set it down, then stand up from the table and walk away.

Steve loosened his tie and sat there for a moment longer, glancing at his watch to check the time before also getting up and leaving his table.

———

Steve couldn't believe he would follow his ex of all people into a restaurant's bathroom. Which, sadly, wasn't news at all.

Because if there was nothing to stop him, he would follow Eddie to the end of Earth and even beyond death.

Perhaps, Steve supposed, he was a bigger freak than he gave himself credit for.

"Ed– Oof!"

He was pulled into a sturdy chest as soon as he opened the door.

The sight of Eddie—tall and broad shouldered—with his shirt's sleeves rolled up to the elbows, revealing more of the intricate inks, would forever be ingrained in Steve's brain.

A ringed hand came up to hold his chin aloft, dark brown eyes regarded him with an unreadable look before plump lips descended on his own, seizing him in a fervent kiss.

As his pants were stripped and long slicked fingers pressed into him, Steve couldn't remember why he didn't want to trail after Eddie in the first place.

In the mirror, he looked debauched with his disheveled appearance; tousled hair, unbuttoned shirt, red swollen lips, and hickey-covered neck.

All the while, Eddie's gaze felt like a physical touch on him—scorching, heavy, and ravenous.

Steve had missed it; the feeling of being desired and adored in the same touch and in all one breath. It was intoxicating, got him light-headed more than any alcohol or drug.

"More," he pushed his hips back, one hand hooking behind Eddie's neck while the other splaying on the bathroom counter. He clenched around the fingers working inside him, hoping they would be replaced by something bigger soon.

"Such a greedy little thing, hm?" Eddie mouthed the column of his throat and stroked his prostate relentlessly, drawing punch-drunk moans from him. "My fingers not enough for you, princess?"

Steve shook his head frantically. He wanted Eddie; whole and scalding and everything. He wanted and wanted until his body was torn into pieces, reaching its limit and incapable of containing his greed, his hunger—

His love for this beautiful man.

And oh, he had said it again, didn't he?

I love you, I love you, I love you.

Unrestrained. Unashamed. Unrepentant.

Eddie made a wounded noise like it was punched right out of him.

And while Steve loved like the sun, burning and consuming; Eddie loved like the moon, tender and forgiving.

Embracing him in warmth and affection even when he was the one at fault. Even when he had been a coward and run away.

"Missed you, Daddy," he trembled in the safety of those strong arms, barely able to conceal the desperation in his voice. "Need it so bad– Please–"

"Anything, baby," Eddie clutched his waist in a bruising grip, sounding hoarse and shaky, as he pushed slowly into him, stretching him open, tearing him asunder. "Anything."

Steve dropped his mouth in a silent moan, squeezing his eyes shut when Eddie set up a brutal pace right off the bat.

Neither of them had much time to savor this sacred moment. A reunion after two months apart. A drop of morning dew sliding off a green leave.

And he let Eddie use his body, slamming into him with an urgent need—as if his inside was the hearth of life, as if Eddie needed to be balls deep in him like air—chasing the blazing flame that they were both after.

"Am I that girl you dream of, baby?" Eddie grabbed his jaw to make him meet those crazed eyes in the mirror, hot lips pressing against his artery—thumping like a hummingbird. "Does she pamper you the way I did? Does she make love to you and fuck you like this? Does she tie you up? Eat you out until you cry and beg for her cock?"

"There's no one–" Steve was interrupted by the insistent knocks on the door. And suddenly remembered that they were very underdressed in a public setting.

Not that it had ever stopped Eddie from bending him over the nearest surface and going to town.

"Fuck off!" Eddie shouted at the door with a scowl.

"Yeah, fuck off," Steve giggled.

His parents would definitely have a coronary if they found out their straight son was given the pounding of his life in a bathroom. And right in a restaurant under the Harrington's name, nonetheless.

"Wanna share with the class what's so funny, darlin'?" Eddie rolled his hips and Steve's laughter suddenly cut into a strangled moan.

The constant pressure on his prostate wasn't a joke, making Steve drool and lose his mind.

"Love you, Daddy," he babbled incoherently, not caring that it didn't make any sense. "Love you so much. Love your cock so much."

"Jesus Christ, baby."

His eyes rolled back as Eddie grounded into his prostate and bumped his weeping dick quickly, setting his nerves alight and sending him over the edge.

Steve convulsed as he got overwhelmed by the toes-curling pleasure, muscles flexing and milking the thick length inside him like his life depended on it.

"That's– Fuck–" Eddie groaned and pressed his forehead on Steve's shoulder, blunt nails digging into the trim waist and leaving their crescent indents behind.

Steve wished they would take forever to fade.

After a few stuttered thrusts, Eddie buried deep and spilled inside him, filling him up to the brim.

"Don't pull out," Steve whimpered, clamping down even as he knew full well it was impossible.

"Me and you both, sweetheart," Eddie pressed a wistful kiss on his temple, slipping out easily from his sloppy hole.

After using the toilet paper to wipe down his backside and dick, Eddie pulled his briefs and pants back on, deft hands snaking around his torso to do his belt and zipper for him.

When Eddie turned him around to button his shirt and tucked it in as well, Steve's softened dick gave a valiant twitch at the feeling of Eddie's cum dripping from his hole.

His underwear would be a mess by the time he was home, but if he played his cards right, Eddie would clean it for him.

"Hey, Ed–"

"Steve, I–"

They paused and shared a shy smile.

"You first," Steve said, cheeks tinged pink as Eddie's hands came to rest on his waist, boxing him in against the counter.

"I know none of this is your fault. So whatever you need to do to fulfill your duty, I forgive you," Eddie gave him a tender smile, stealing his breath away. "And I'll wait for you for however long it takes. Because I know it hurts you as much as I, if not worse, to listen to your parents. I don't agree with it, but I understand that you have your reason to do so."

Steve felt guilt run through him, his eyes burned and his lips quivered as he rested his forehead on Eddie's shoulder, wanting to hide his tears because what right did he have to cry now?

"Let me be your silent support, baby," Eddie's fingers combed through his hair gently. "Let me take care of you even from the shadows."

"No!" He lifted his head to meet those kind brown eyes. "You don't deserve that– I can't– I won't keep you a secret, Eddie."

"I love you, and there's no other way for us–"

"There is," Steve raised his hand to wipe the tears in his eyes, smiling wobbly at his boyfriend. "I'm here today to break the big news to my parents. If you're willing to take me in when they disown me and deny my inheritance right–"

Someone banged on the door loudly from the outside, but Steve didn't care about it. Wealth, fame, reputation; they all paled in comparison to the man he loved.

"–then I'll go with you."

Eddie gave him a searching look, as if what he just said was too good to be true. Which Steve couldn't fault him after everything he had put him through. But it hurt still, to be doubted by his love because he had proved himself untrustworthy with his foolishness.

"Are you sure, sweetheart?" Eddie asked softly, caressing Steve's cheekbone with the back of his hand. "I'm not your parents. I'm just a small-time musician. A life with me won't be the same as anything you grew up with. I don't want you to regret your decision, baby."

"And you called me a worrier," Steve teased gently, before grabbing Eddie's wrist to kiss his ring finger—tattooed with a princess crown. "A life with you sounds good enough to me."

"Yeah?" Eddie smiled at him, fond and precious.

"Yeah," Steve smiled back, feeling his body tingle with light. So bright that he could rival the sun.

At the sound of the door being unlocked, Steve winked at Eddie.

"Let's bring me out of the closet. Show my parents that I'm as straight as a rubber band."

"Stephen Joseph Harrington," Eddie grinned widely and gazed at him in awe. "I'm gonna marry you one day."

Steve tipped forward and kissed Eddie soundly when those loving arms caught him.

Yeah, one day soon.

[faeryarchives]

loved by the moon (riddle, leona, and azul x f!reader)

requested by @lydiacallas: Can i ask for a Moon Goddess like!Fem!Reader? Like they have magic linked to the moon, they have like- this ethereal, pure and calm vibe of the moon itself and their voice is calm too. Maybe their hair is a bit glow in the dark? With Malleus, Azul, Lilia, Riddle and Leona, please and thank you very much! 🥺✨ warning: minor spoilers to book 6 + somewhat long imagine note: reader uses she / they pronouns + is in the same grade as the boys !! this is very overdue im sorry 😣 and i based some characteristic and abilities to moonlight cookie and princess luna guilty as charged 😔 + malleus and lilia part will be in another post! recent fics: happy birthday (malleus x reader) & when your hopeless streamer gets a girlfriend (ace x reader) & its you, it always had been you

·˚ ༘ riddle rosehearts (2nd year ramshackle dorm leader)

"the decision of all professors and staffs of night raven college falls in favor for miss (name) (last name) to enroll here - exempting them from the all-boys rule. she will be in charge of the ramshackle dorm during her stay here."

riddle does not understand how on earth were you able to stay in the school and always hold yourself with such grace, he couldn't explain why your presence seems to be similar to vil like you were oozing of calm vibes

you were the total opposites - he is more accustomed to fire while you specialize in water magic*. he lose his rationality quickly while he had never see you even falter during the time you two were classmates + he always abides by the rules while you do what ever you want 

"you are not allowed to sleep in class!" "it's not sleeping, i am just resting my eyes..." "you must not pick flowers from the garden on wednesdays." "riddle, i am not under the queen of hearts rules."

and riddle actually holds a one sided grudge against you for that + makes it his mission always to remind you of the rules, going on about mini rants to which you nodded to while reading your books

typically, riddle would've mention something about the rule of the queen of hearts but he was strangely quiet. you see him looking down at his notebook, lost in his world. and that surprised you because never you would've thought you would know this side of him. "no rule trivia for today?" "...huh?" "there is something on your mind, no? why don't we talk about that instead our usual trivias."

as time passed by, you and riddle gradually close friends to the point that heartslabyul treats you like their saving grace whenever riddle goes on a rampage, even more when you became second years

when the first overblot happened, it was the first time he saw your face, usually so calm, crumbled like dust when the blot manifested into a large phantom

"hahaha! the law in this world is me! not even you, (name), can stop me!" "i'm not letting you go so easily, riddle. rules are meant to protect your people, but you don't realize you are using them to suffocate them. you even hurt my dorm mates, enough of this!"

riddle was sure you wouldn't speak to him again because you weren't there the moment he woke up. he tried asking trey and cater if you were avoiding him, but they could not answer him. the next few days, he didn't even get to talk to you.

then he found himself admiring nrc at night time, breaking his own rules, maybe it's okay to let is slide for now. as he needs some time to think

absentmindedly wandering around the school grounds, letting the cool breeze feel his skin, riddle had his hand brushing through the thick bushes until they got pricked by a stray thorn "ah-" he hissed, holding up his pricked finger. it was just a tiny injury that's nothing to worry about. the injury was nothing compared to what he saw next "riddle? what are you doing this here at this hour?"

riddle spotted you sitting under the tree where silver usually takes his naps, surrounded by bunnies as they piled around your lap.

after days of not seeing each other, riddle thought he was going crazy because the last time he saw you, he knew pretty sure that your eyes and hair do not have that silver glow - it was like you were the moon itself

"is it my fault that your eyes and hair changed?" "oh, this is awkward... " you look at the bunnies trying to hide behind you, being scared of riddle's sudden appearance, contemplating about something before sighing in defeat. "i think i owe you an explanation. but first, can you keep a secret?" this confused riddle very much. what do you mean explanation? did something happen while he was out? before he could even think of it, you were already in front of him - your point and middle finger placed on his forehead. 'the moon has come out to play, now bid your worries away.' a comfortable feeling of cold wrapped around riddle's body, feeling the fatigue from his overblotting disappear, the weight on his shoulder being gone and his pricked finger healed. while riddle stared at you in shock, you finally reveal your true appearance and float around him like a curious child. "would you believe me if i told you i am the descendant of the moon goddess?"

... oh. OH !!

prepare for him because this little goldfish right here is most likely a fan of reading books about your kind + cue the sparkling eyes

and oh my god are those butterflies he can feel in his stomach? or maybe he is just hungry but he only feel that way around you though. oh well !!

** okay so i think reader will be compatible with water magic because the moon has this gravitaional pull right which cause the high tides and low tides... and riddle is fire!

·˚ ༘ leona kingscholar (3rd year transfer student)

"kingscholar, think of this as your punishment for the spelldrive incident. i would gladly take miss (name) for a tour but alas, there are countless of papers that needs my attention."

leona knew that there is something like a cloak of mysteriousness around you the moment you appeared in the college mid-year as a transfer student from rsa

just you don't interfere with his plans and he will also stay out of yours but it turns out he was assigned by the crow to take you around

"... wow, do i look like a punishment worthy chore?" you sigh, shaking your head in disappointment before turning to leona and he could swear he could see your eyes glowing for a moment when you stare at him. "i take it that the dorm leader of savannaclaw will be my tour guide?" "just don't lag behind." giving you a shrug before he started walking ahead of you. despite his short descriptions and tour around the school, leona is thankful that you didn't seem to be a nosy type of person, just a little on the calm and reserve type than most people he knew.

doesn't understand how people seems to look starstruck whenever you walk by them i mean you are attractive yes but not being able to move? that's different

it also turns out you share most of your classes! maybe crowley was really punishing him for the incident as he was stuck with you, being your babysitter.

but you almost look like his babysitter + quickly became one of the most tolerable people in the school and he doesn't mind having you around

"leona? let me bother you for a moment, can you help me with this problem?" "oh that?" the lion lifted his head and stared at the paper you were holding before waving his hand in dismissal. "remember the activity we did as partners? that's the one." "..." you squinted your eyes and leona could see them literally glow in purple light causing him to blink several times if he was seeing it right but it disappeared quickly. "oh i get it now, thanks." "do your eyes really glow like that?" "huh? i don't know what you are talking about."

you were not the nagging type - letting him hide and snooze off behind you during class and surprisingly, you were fun to spar with during practical exams + too smart for your own good

he had never seen any kind of fighting similar to yours like your fighting style is only yours to begin with - not only you excel in defending, you never seem to get tired despite being a speedy defender.

you and the savanaclaw dorm leader spent the whole afternoon sparring with each other and by the time you notice it, the sun was already setting. "aren't you tired yet, leona?" "you better tell me how you manage to keep up with me all this time." you did say to keep up with you the first time we met." you twirl your spear around you before stabbing it on the ground, leaning on it and grinned at leona. "i'm just keeping my promise."

now leona was pretty sure you are not a normal transfer student + especially after fighting with you in the island of woe and it was pretty interesting how you unexpectedly exposed yourself in front him and jamil.

the moment you, who was assigned to be in the front of the group due to you having the most capable defensive powers, entered the room on the current sector, leona and jamil look at your back in surprise. "(name)-senpai?" "what's up, jamil?" "... is that a normal thing for you?" the room was oozing with the presence of phantoms everywhere and there was no source of light - aside from your hair locks that are now shining like a billowing night sky of twinkling stardust, borne in a void of black and fading in an indigo moonset "oh that's normal, we can just use it as source of light. save your magic for now." "no wonder your magic feels different from everyone else - you are a moon goddess, right?"

leona is not blind, he just need a solid evidence to confirm his gut feeling. unique magic spells + signature spear + glowing eyes and your hair locks literally looking like that?

while fighting along side each other, leona could literally leave his back open because heknew and trust that you always have his back and vice versa

"leona-senpai, watch out-" before jamil could jump in between the incoming attack and leona, you pulled the second year by his hood deflected the attack with your spear so effortlessly. "it's fine, moon fairy here got our backs." you hear leona said proudly before landing a critical hit on the phantom. "aren't you glad you're stuck with us?"

everyone in school knows how two of you would make an unbeatable duo when it comes to strategies and games

and not going to lie, leona thinks so too! you are strong, smart and everything above + treats you life his closest friend and respects you a lot but you do things sometimes that are not really necessary

"are you done yet?" he couldn't help but ask, his tail thumping on the floor with annoyance while you tried braiding some parts of his hair.

you peek over his should and smiled, trying to show him the small braid that you did on the side. "yeah, it's fun braiding your hair!" after your identity being revealed, you let yourself relax more around him - when you express happiness, your hair starts glowing as it did before and small crescent like moon thingy start appearing around you

... leona find that cute + now he understand why people become starstruck when it comes to you

**you know how moonlight cookie's hair color looks like? yeah that's the one!

·˚ ༘ azul ashengrotto (2nd year ramshackle vice dorm leader)

"did you hear about the rumors? recently, students are saying that when you go to the botanical garden at night and stand under the moonlight - all your questions will be answered!"

the fact that rumors like that exists made azul irritated because it means he got competition. and having competition in the thing he do best is not fun.

so he and the twins went to investigate - how and where the rumors first started and who are most likely to be involved in the case

surprisingly enough, it all leads to a certain ramshackle vice dorm leader aka you + azul already knew you due to being the same year and his 'rival'

he considers you as his rival because you two always seem to fight for the top 2 and 3 spot every exam but for you... i think he would be hurt if you say that you like to aim for the top spot because it's fun 🤩

it was during lunch time and you were planning to eat with yuu, grim and the others when all of a sudden, someone blocked your way out by leaning on the door. "(last name) can i ask a bit of your time? i would like to ask you regarding an important matter." the ever so charismatic azul asked, his usual charming smile on as if he wants to do business with you. "oh, hi azul. what is it about?" "how delightful! do you happen to know the rumor about your unanswered questions will be answered as you stand under the moonlight?" "there is a rumor like that? under the moonlight? why the specifics?" one thing that azul observed about you is that your emotion reflects on your eyes. call it his gut feel but just one look and he already knew you were telling the truth "a pity... it seems like i am back to square one." "... maybe i can go help you out? i am not that busy these upcoming days."

and so azul's little group grew in numbers consisting of him, you, yuu, grim and the twins. oddly enough, it was actually fun to hang out with you

azul never got to interact with you that much before and only knew information about your through papers and from what he heard from people but being with you right now exceeds his expectations

"if headmaster crowley is similar to crow... do you think he likes to hoard shiny things?" you suddenly whispered it to azul one day in class, your mind clearly wandering and not paying attention to what professor trein is writing on the board. "what is with the random thought?" what is we leave a trail of shiny things and create a trap, that would be really funny."

you were an oddball. sometimes you will joke around with him and trying to make him laugh during class. there are also times where he couldn't explain the calming feeling he had whenever you are around + he could never even feel any other intentions from your actions as if you genuinely want to become his friend

it took him a while to notice how you always seem to stand out and become the embodiment of grace and elegance - a confident yet modest person who knows what you want

you always help him out in solving the rumor mystery but there is something that made you look suspicious → you always go back to your dorm before sunset

it's not that he wants to take up all your time but the way you stand firm of not being able to join them during night time and saying how dangerous it is made him suspect you of something

so he went alone wearing his ceremonial robes (the twins are taking over his duties for a while i know very unbelievable but imagine) to investigate the botanical garden and there he saw you run inside - a trail of silver light following you behind

and when azul went inside to stand in the spot, trying to think of what to wish until he hears a familiar voice ringing in the building

"say your wish out loud and the moon will light its way to you." "well, now this is marvelous. can i see one guiding my wish for me?" azul looked up, trying to call out for you, even looking around to see signs of you. there was a moment of silence before he heard you sigh and in an instance, you appeared before him, avoiding his look. "i thought i told you to let it go?"

after finding out you were his competitor - he didn't really feel annoyed at all! rather he was intrigued on how you were able to do it ...? you help the students find the answers on their own in their dreams?!

seeing your hair glow in silver light in the dark reminds him of himself as some octopus also glow in the dark just like him!

"azul, do you know that i really admire you?" "me? what is there to admire about me? i do nknow i have a remarkable potential but compared to y-" "no, seriously. you don't need to compare yourself to me. having to do all these business related work AND studying at the same time? you should appreciate yourself more."

... do you want to make him cry on the spot? hearing such words makes him happy but hearing it from you aka one of the people he really admire and yes he admits he admire you as a rival - his emotions are going haywire.

even if he is smart, it will take time for azul to realize that his admiration is just growing stronger and stronger each day and bloom into something else

[colourstreakgryffin]

muzan trying to find their toddler child (reader) and hears giggling in a room he hasn't checked before. turns out reader is sleeping in one of the upper moon's lap.(be it kokushibo, akaza or even Nakime) it would be adorable!

Oooh! Papa Muzan! Awww, that sounds so cute! I’m definitely doing this, thank you!

Kibutsuji Muzan- Hide and Seek

Muzan grumbled a bit annoyed, his blood red eyes trailing around every mere corner of the room he stood within, this applying to every room he has checked over and over again. His fatherly anxiety grew with each second of no child as he begun tossing items out of his way in a fury, trying his best to find his beloved baby so he could quell the rising imagines that you’re sitting outside alone, unprotected and vulnerable

His newborn, his toddler just disappeared out of the blue, once he left them in their cot for only a few minutes to begin the Upper Moon Meeting. He was immensely confused and worried about your condition, as his sharp claws tear at each artefact in his way to see if you’re hiding behind or under it. Muzan’s ears perked up at the sound of soft giggling

He immediately followed it into the one room he avoided, since he knew his Upper Moon replacement, Nakime. He didn’t want to see her unless under business scenarios but then again, he could hear that familiar giggling of your cute little voice from behind the door and Muzan knew he had to enter to find his beloved toddler. Sighing under his breath to ease his aggression and already irritated nerves, he gently pushed the door open

Suspecting you could be behind it’s, he has learnt fast that he needs to be careful with every door he opens. After he accidentally hit your back when entering your bedroom and made you cry for twenty minutes straight. Muzan still regrets that day to this very day as he looks around the curve of the door to try locate you. Sadly, no luck but a relief that he can open his entrance wider

Muzan’s eyes widened at the sight before him when they finally met the centre of the bland, semi-dark room lit by a single candle. Nakime’s quiet frame sat down on her knees as you were cuddled up into her lap, your little head laid down and matching red eyes staring ahead at the wall, as Nakime seemingly found a nearby sheet of fabric and laid it over you as a makeshift blanket. She lifted her Biwa higher up so not a single inch of the wood would touch your sensitive noggin’

For the first time, Muzan felt appreciation for his worthless demon fodders but he didn’t express it as he approaches the eyeless demon woman. Nakime was willingly to take care of his offspring for him, despite the fact he didn’t demand her to at all. What was her motivation? He wondered but he didn’t say a word as he sits down onto his knees and gestures at his own child. Nakime nodded back and placed her Biwa down at her side to pick you up manually

You giggled excitedly the moment her hands scooped you up and sit you up so you could meet her face-to-face. Your cute chubby fingers reached for her long raven black hair whilst Nakime attempted to hand you to your father, your blood reds sparkled when they met the powerful veiny-like slits of your father Muzan. Clapping your hands together at the sweet smile Muzan emitted at you, you were always happy to see your father

Muzan considered if he should leave Nakime to her own business, and take you away to be brought back to your cot but with the way you turned around to see her and whined out for her attention. He decided, last second, to let Nakime spend time with you and supervise from the side, he is a very overprotective father who is ready to drop any human and demon that dare touch you but if you like something or someone, he will tolerate it for you and your happiness

Muzan held you close to his built chest and felt you pull at his neatly done tie as your attention averted from Nakime to your father’s black tie in mere seconds. He shuffled closer and offered you, without pulling you off his chest to Nakime, her cheeks flamed in flattery as her hands abanonded trying to pick up Biwa laid limply besides her and stretched out. It is truly a honour to be given the Master’s child to care for with the Master’s blessing, she felt so unbelievably lucky

“Do you want to play with Dokusha?”

[novaursa]

The Second Daughter (raven across the realm)

- Summary: You were born as a second daughter under the watchful eye of a full moon. And just like the moon you were beautiful—and cursed to exist only in the dark.

- Pairing: targ!reader/Jason Lannister

- Rating: Mature 16+

- Previous part: stone by stone

- Next part: the golden lion

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff @oxymakestheworldgoround @l3thal-l0lita @alkadri-layal @ninihrtss @barnes70stark

The day dawned quiet, with the soft hum of the ocean breeze carrying through the open windows of Casterly Rock. The faint scent of salt mixed with the crisp air, and the castle seemed to stir at a slower, more deliberate pace. You sat in the solar, sunlight pooling at your feet as you rested in a cushioned chair. Marna and Alys were nearby, quietly folding linens and speaking in hushed tones. Jason had left to attend to some pressing matters of the Rock, promising to return before long.

But as the morning wore on, a strange sensation began to stir within you—subtle at first, a faint tightening low in your abdomen that gave you pause. At first, you thought it was nothing more than the discomfort that had become common in the later weeks of your pregnancy. Yet as the minutes passed, the sensation returned, a stronger, more insistent pressure that made you clutch the armrest of your chair.

Marna noticed first, her keen eyes catching the change in your posture. She set down the linen she was folding and moved closer. “My lady?” she asked gently, her tone laced with concern. “Is something the matter?”

You inhaled deeply, trying to steady yourself. “I’m not sure,” you admitted, your voice soft. “It’s… a pressure. It comes and goes.”

Alys dropped the sheet she was folding, her face pale as she hurried to your side. “Is it the baby?” she asked, her voice rising slightly. “Should we fetch Maester Halford?”

You nodded faintly, another wave of pressure building. “Yes,” you said, your breath hitching. “It feels… different.”

Marna was already moving toward the door, her steps quick and purposeful. “I’ll fetch him at once,” she said over her shoulder, disappearing into the corridor.

Alys knelt beside you, her hands hovering uncertainly as though unsure whether to comfort you or prepare for something more. “It’s going to be alright, my lady,” she said, her voice trembling slightly. “The maester will be here soon.”

You reached out, placing a reassuring hand on hers despite the tightening in your abdomen. “I know,” you said, though your own voice held a hint of nervousness. “It’s just… sooner than I expected.”

Moments later, the door burst open, and Jason strode in, his hair slightly disheveled from his hurried steps. His eyes swept the room, landing on you immediately. “Y/N,” he said, crossing the distance to kneel beside you. “What’s happening? Are you alright?”

“I think it’s starting,” you said, your voice calm but strained. “The baby…”

Jason’s jaw tightened, though his hand was gentle as he brushed a strand of hair from your face. “You’re sure?”

Marna appeared behind him, followed closely by Maester Halford, who carried a leather satchel of supplies. The elderly maester’s expression was composed but focused as he approached.

“My lady,” Halford said, setting his satchel down and gesturing for Jason to step aside. “Tell me what you’re feeling.”

You described the sensations as best you could, your hands gripping the armrests of the chair as another wave of pressure rolled through you. Halford listened carefully, nodding as he placed a steadying hand on your shoulder.

“It seems labor has begun,” he said, his tone calm and measured. “The early stages, at least. It may be some time yet before the child is ready to come, but we should prepare.

Jason stood behind you, his hands resting lightly on your shoulders. “What do we do?” he asked, his voice firm but tinged with worry.

Halford glanced at Marna and Alys. “Bring fresh water and clean linens. Ensure the chamber is warm but not stifling. And send word to the wet nurse—we may need her before long.”

Marna and Alys nodded, hurrying to carry out the maester’s instructions. Jason crouched beside you again, his green eyes searching your face. “You’re going to be fine,” he said quietly, his voice steady. “I’m here. I won’t leave your side.”

You managed a faint smile, your hand finding his. “I know,” you said, gripping his fingers tightly as another contraction built. “I’ll be alright, Jason. I have to be.”

Halford straightened, his tone gentle but firm. “We’ll move her to the birthing chamber now. It’s better to have her resting there as things progress.”

Jason nodded, sliding an arm under your shoulders to help you stand. The movement was slow, deliberate, as you leaned on him for support. Each step toward the birthing chamber felt heavier, the reality of what was to come settling in your chest. Yet Jason’s presence beside you, his strength and steady reassurance, gave you the courage to keep moving.

As you reached the chamber, the maester and the servants bustled around, preparing for the hours ahead. Jason helped you onto the bed, his hand never leaving yours. 

The midwives moved quickly yet methodically around the room, their soft murmurs blending into the steady hum of activity.

You lay on the bed, propped up with pillows, your face flushed and glistening with perspiration as another contraction rippled through your body. Marna held your hand tightly, her voice calm as she whispered soothing words in your ear. Alys stood nearby, ready to fetch water or towels as needed, her youthful face pale with worry.

Jason stood at the far side of the room, his eyes fixed on you even as he spoke in low tones to Maester Halford. His posture was tense, his shoulders squared as though bracing for battle. The maester, his expression calm but focused, gestured toward a table where his instruments and remedies were laid out.

“The contractions are regular now,” Halford said, his voice steady but tinged with urgency. “She’s progressing as expected, but this stage can last for hours—or longer. Your wife is strong, my lord, but we must be patient.”

Jason nodded, though his jaw tightened. “Is there any sign of trouble?” he asked, his tone clipped. “Anything I should know?”

Halford shook his head. “So far, everything is proceeding as it should. But childbirth is always unpredictable. The midwives are experienced, and I’ll be here the entire time to ensure nothing is overlooked.”

Jason exhaled sharply, running a hand through his disheveled hair. “I trust you, Halford. But if anything changes—anything—you’ll tell me immediately.”

“Of course, my lord,” the maester replied with a slight bow.

Nearby, Lady Leonella Lannister sat in a high-backed chair, her hair arranged in an elegant braid despite the late hour. A goblet of watered wine rested in her hand, though she had barely touched it. Her discerning eyes flicked between Jason and the bed where you labored, her expression a mixture of concern and composed strength.

“Jason,” she said softly, her voice cutting through the air. “Pacing the room won’t help her. Come sit, at least for a moment.”

Jason turned to his mother, his brow furrowed. “I can’t just sit, Mother. She’s—” He broke off, his gaze flickering back to you as another contraction gripped your body, your soft cry filling the room. His hands clenched into fists at his sides. “She’s in pain, and there’s nothing I can do.”

Leonella’s expression softened, and she gestured for him to approach. “You can be here,” she said gently. “You can give her your strength, even from across the room. She’ll feel it, Jason. Believe me.”

Reluctantly, Jason crossed the room to stand beside her chair. His mother reached out, placing a reassuring hand on his arm. “This is the hardest part for you,” she said quietly. “Watching and waiting. But Y/N is strong. She’ll see this through.”

Jason nodded, though his eyes remained fixed on you. “I know she will,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “She’s the strongest person I’ve ever known.”

Across the room, the midwives hovered around you, their hands gentle but firm as they adjusted your position and wiped your brow with a cool cloth. “You’re doing well, my lady,” one of them said, her voice calm and encouraging. “Just breathe. In and out, slow and steady.”

Your grip on Marna’s hand tightened as another contraction rolled through you, and your breath came in short, uneven gasps. “Jason…” you murmured, your voice strained but steady.

He was at your side in an instant, kneeling beside the bed and taking your free hand in both of his. “I’m here,” he said softly, his voice filled with quiet determination. “I’m right here, Y/N.”

You turned your face toward him, your expression weary but resolute. “It feels… like it’s getting closer,” you said between breaths.

Jason nodded, his grip firm and steady. “You’re doing so well,” he said, his tone a mixture of pride and awe. “I’m so proud of you.”

Behind him, Leonella watched with a small, knowing smile. Though her gaze remained vigilant, she seemed reassured by the sight of her son at your side. She turned to Maester Halford, her tone low but firm. “Ensure everything is prepared. My son’s child will be born into this world with no complications.”

Halford bowed slightly, his hands already busy arranging his tools. “Of course, my lady. Every precaution has been taken.”

Jason’s focus remained entirely on you, his thumb brushing lightly over your knuckles as he whispered quiet reassurances. The hours stretched on, each moment both agonizingly slow and fraught with anticipation. Yet through it all, Jason never wavered, his presence a constant source of strength as you faced the final stages of labor together.

Your cries, though pained, were steady and determined, a testament to your strength. Jason knelt beside you, his hand tightly clasping yours, his eyes never leaving your face even as the midwives worked tirelessly.

“You’re almost there,” Jason murmured, his voice low but filled with conviction. “Just a little more, Y/N. You’re incredible.”

A final push brought the room to a standstill, followed by the sound of a newborn’s wail—a strong, piercing cry that seemed to echo through the chamber. Relief and awe flooded the room as the midwife carefully lifted the child, her experienced hands cradling the tiny, wriggling form.

“It’s a boy,” she announced, her voice filled with warmth and reverence.

Jason exhaled, as though releasing a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. His gaze locked onto the child as the midwife brought him over, the newborn’s small body wrapped in a soft linen cloth. The boy’s skin was flushed pink, his tiny hands curling into fists as he cried with a vigor that made Jason’s chest swell with pride.

Jason reached out, his hands steady despite the tremor of emotion coursing through him. As he cradled his son for the first time, the weight of the moment hit him fully. The boy had a crown of soft, silvery-gold hair, a perfect blend of his parents’ lineage. His eyes, though tightly shut, bore the faintest hint of lilac—a gift of Targaryen blood.

“Y/N,” Jason whispered, his voice thick with emotion as he turned to you. “He’s perfect.”

You were exhausted, your body trembling from the effort, but your lips curved into a soft smile at his words. “Let me hold him,” you murmured, your voice faint but insistent.

Jason nodded, carefully lowering the baby onto your chest. As the newborn’s cries softened, his tiny face nestled against you, a warmth spread through the room. You reached out with trembling hands, your fingers brushing over the baby’s delicate features—the curve of his cheek, the soft down of his hair, the tiny button of his nose.

“He’s beautiful,” you whispered, tears slipping down your cheeks as you trailed your hand gently across his face, memorizing every detail. “Jason… describe him to me.”

Jason sat beside you, his arm slipping around your shoulders as he gazed at the child with a mixture of awe and love. “He has our hair,” he said softly, his voice reverent. “Silver and gold, like moonlight. His eyes… I think they’ll be lilac, like yours, though it’s hard to tell just yet.”

You smiled faintly, your fingers brushing against the baby’s tiny hands as they gripped instinctively at your touch. “And his face?”

Jason’s hand rested lightly on your shoulder as he continued. “He has a strong jaw, but it’s soft now, rounded. His nose is small, delicate. And his lips…” He chuckled softly, the sound warm. “They already pout like he’s displeased with the world.”

You laughed weakly, the sound filled with joy despite your exhaustion. “A true Lannister, then.”

Jason leaned down, pressing a kiss to your temple. “He’s perfect, Y/N. A lion with dragon’s wings.”

The baby stirred against you, his tiny cries quieting as he settled into your warmth. Jason reached out, his fingers brushing over the child’s hair. “Aemerys,” he said suddenly, his voice steady. “We’ll call him Aemerys Lannister.”

You turned your face toward him, your smile widening. “Aemerys,” you repeated softly, the name rolling off your tongue like a prayer. “It’s perfect.”

Jason leaned in, his forehead resting against yours as the two of you gazed down at your son. The room around you seemed to fade, leaving only the three of you in the glow of the moment. 

As Aemerys stirred in your arms, you whispered softly, “Welcome to the world, my little one.”

The birthing chamber had grown quieter, the frantic energy of labor giving way to a peaceful stillness. Maester Halford worked methodically, tending to both you and the newborn, his hands steady and experienced. Alys and Marna moved about the room, their voices soft as they fetched fresh linens and warm water. The scent of lavender and herbs lingered in the air, mingling with the faint cries of Aemerys as he shifted in your arms.

Jason stood by your side, his hand resting gently on your shoulder as he watched you cradle your son. His expression was a mixture of pride and protectiveness, his green eyes softening each time he looked at the tiny bundle in your arms. He seemed reluctant to leave, even as a soft knock came at the chamber door.

Lady Leonella stepped inside, her elegant figure silhouetted against the torchlight in the hallway. Her golden hair was impeccably arranged, though her expression carried the weight of something pressing. She approached quietly, her gaze flicking briefly to you and the baby before settling on Jason.

“Jason,” she said softly, her tone carrying an unspoken urgency. “May I speak with you outside?”

Jason hesitated, his hand brushing lightly over your hair before he turned to his mother. “What is it, Mother?” he asked, his voice low to avoid disturbing the tranquil atmosphere.

Leonella gestured toward the door, her expression unreadable. “It’s best discussed in private.”

With a final glance at you, Jason reluctantly followed his mother into the corridor, the heavy door closing softly behind them. The stone hallway was dimly lit, the flickering torches casting long shadows on the walls. Leonella turned to face Jason, her eyes studying him carefully.

“Damon has gone,” she said without preamble, her voice calm but firm. “He left with a small party of our family to attend Allard Reyne’s wedding. They should have arrived by now.”

Jason’s expression didn’t shift, his features remaining cool and composed. “Good for him,” he said simply, crossing his arms. “I assume he’s enjoying the spectacle.”

Leonella raised an eyebrow at his disinterest. “You know Allard will be disappointed that the Lord of Casterly Rock isn’t present. He’ll use it to sow discord, claiming you’re too arrogant to attend his grand affair.”

Jason shrugged, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “Let him,” he said dismissively. “If Allard wants to throw a tantrum over my absence, he’s welcome to it. The birth of my heir is far more important than indulging his ego.”

Leonella tilted her head slightly, her expression softening as she regarded her son. “You’ve changed, Jason,” she said quietly. “A few years ago, you might have felt compelled to attend, if only to keep appearances. Now, you don’t seem to care what Allard thinks.”

Jason met her gaze, his green eyes unwavering. “Why should I?” he asked. “Allard thrives on attention, on playing the game of petty politics. But I don’t answer to him. My priorities are here, with my family. Aemerys and Y/N mean more to me than whatever fleeting power play Allard thinks he’s making.”

Leonella’s lips curved into a faint smile, and she nodded approvingly. “You’ve become a true lord, Jason. Focused on what truly matters.”

Jason’s smirk widened slightly, though his tone remained serious. “I’ve learned that nothing is more important than the people who depend on me. Let Allard have his feast. I have my legacy in my arms.”

Leonella stepped closer, placing a hand on his arm. “And a fine legacy it will be. You’ve done well, my son.”

Jason inclined his head, the faintest hint of a smile softening his stern features. “Thank you, Mother.”

With that, he turned back toward the chamber door, his steps purposeful as he reentered the room where his world had shifted forever. 

His gaze immediately fell on you, resting against the pillows, Aemerys cradled protectively in your arms. A soft smile curved his lips as he approached, the weight of his earlier conversation fading into the background.

He reached out, brushing a strand of damp hair from your forehead, his touch light and affectionate. “How are you feeling?” he asked softly.

“Tired,” you admitted, your voice faint but warm. “But happy.”

Jason smiled, leaning down to press a kiss to your temple. “You’ve been incredible, Y/N. Truly.”

The sound of the door opening behind him drew his attention, and he turned to see his mother, Lady Leonella, entering the room with her usual composed elegance. Her gaze immediately fell on the newborn in your arms, and her expression softened, a rare vulnerability slipping through her usual poise.

“May I?” she asked gently, her gaze flickering to you and then to Jason.

You smiled and nodded, shifting slightly to allow Jason to take Aemerys from your arms. He lifted the tiny bundle with practiced care, his movements steady as he carried his son to his mother. Leonella reached out, her hands trembling ever so slightly as she took her grandson for the first time.

“Oh, Jason,” she murmured, her voice thick with emotion as she gazed down at the baby. “He’s beautiful. A true Lannister.”

Jason stood beside her, his arms crossed but his expression softened. “He has some Targaryen in him, too,” he said with a faint smile. “Lilac eyes, just like Y/N.”

Leonella chuckled, her gaze never leaving the child. “A perfect blend of lion and dragon,” she said softly. She ran her fingers lightly over Aemerys’s tiny hand, marveling as he instinctively gripped her finger. “It saddens me that your father isn’t here to see this moment. He would’ve been so proud, Jason.”

Jason’s expression flickered, a shadow of loss passing briefly over his features. “He would’ve been,” he agreed quietly. “But he’s here in spirit, Mother. I feel it.”

Leonella nodded, blinking away the moisture in her eyes as she rocked the baby gently. “Your father always said you’d lead our house to greatness, Jason. This little one is proof of that.”

Maester Halford stepped forward, his voice calm but purposeful. “I’ll send a raven to King’s Landing at once,” he announced, bowing slightly. “His Grace will want to hear of his grandchild’s birth.”

Jason turned to him, nodding curtly. “Good. Ensure the message conveys the strength of the child—his health, his Targaryen blood. My wife has brought honor to both our houses.”

Halford inclined his head. “Of course, my lord. The news will be delivered with all due reverence.”

As the maester moved to the writing desk in the corner, Leonella continued to hold Aemerys, her expression filled with a quiet joy. “He’s strong already,” she murmured, her fingers brushing over the baby’s soft hair. “I can feel it.”

Jason smiled, placing a hand on his mother’s shoulder. “He’ll need to be. The world won’t be kind to a child who carries the weight of two great houses.”

Leonella looked up at her son, her gaze steady. “Then it’s up to us to ensure he grows up knowing his worth—and his strength. He has a great legacy to uphold.”

Jason nodded, his eyes drifting back to you as you watched the scene with a tired but content smile. “He will,” Jason said firmly. “Because we’ll make sure of it.”

Leonella returned to the bed, carefully lowering Aemerys back into your waiting arms. As the baby nestled against you, his tiny face serene, Jason sat beside you, his hand resting lightly on your knee. The three of you, along with Leonella, shared a moment of quiet reflection—a family united in purpose, ready to face whatever challenges lay ahead.

Excerpts from Fire and Blood: The Triumphs and Trials of the Reign of Viserys I Targaryen

The Birth of Aemerys Lannister (116 AC)

Grand Maester Mellos writes:

“It was in the sixth moon of 116 AC that a raven arrived in King’s Landing, its wings bearing news of great joy. From the towering heights of Casterly Rock, Lord Jason Lannister sent word that his wife, Princess Y/N Targaryen, had given birth to a son, healthy and strong. The boy, named Aemerys Lannister, was declared by his lord father as a union of lion and dragon, a testament to the strength of both House Lannister and House Targaryen.

King Viserys received the raven in the Small Council chamber, where he read the letter aloud to those present. ‘A grandson!’ he exclaimed, tears glistening in his eyes. ‘And a fine name he has been given—Aemerys, after his Valyrian ancestors.’ The King, ever sentimental when it came to his family, declared a feast to celebrate the birth, summoning the court to rejoice in this union of the two great houses.

The news was met with mixed reactions in the capital. Many lords and ladies expressed their congratulations, seeing the child as a promising bridge between the might of Casterly Rock and the fire of the Targaryens. Yet, others whispered in corners about the child’s claim. Though young Aemerys would hold no direct claim to the Iron Throne, some speculated that his Targaryen blood might someday stir ambitions among his descendants.”

Mushroom, the fool, offers his account:

“When the King read the letter, his face lit up like a man twenty years younger. I daresay the old fool wept into his wine that night, toasting the babe more times than I could count. ‘Aemerys,’ he said, ‘a name worthy of a dragon.’ But not everyone at court shared his joy.

Prince Aegon, that proud boy, was none too pleased. His favorite sister had gone off to the West to wed that golden-haired lion, and now she’d birthed a cub of her own. I saw the boy storm from the hall, muttering about how ‘Jason the Golden Lion’ was stealing what rightfully belonged in King’s Landing. The lad may have been nine, but he had the temper of a dragon—though not the strength to back it up.

Princess Helaena, sweet and strange as ever, seemed more curious than anything. She asked what color the baby’s hair was and whether he would ride a dragon someday. As for Prince Aemond, he was quieter, his eyes narrowing as he listened to the court’s murmurs. ‘A lion with dragon’s blood,’ he said once, to no one in particular. I couldn’t tell if he was impressed or suspicious.

Oh, and Queen Alicent? Ever the picture of composure, she offered her polite congratulations to the King, though I noticed her knuckles turn white as she gripped her goblet. It seems she wasn’t as thrilled about her stepdaughter’s success as she pretended to be. The Queen had hoped for a more… loyal match, perhaps. But who could object openly when the King was so elated?”

Grand Maester Mellos adds:

“The celebration at court lasted for three days, marked by feasts, dances, and toasts to the health of the newborn Aemerys. Yet, beneath the merriment, subtle tensions brewed. Prince Aegon’s displeasure was noted by many, his moods growing more sullen with each passing day. The young prince, though beloved by the King, harbored a deep attachment to his sister Y/N, and her departure from the capital had left a void he was unwilling to accept.

Princess Rhaenyra, ever protective of her younger sister, expressed her own concerns privately to the King. ‘Childbirth is dangerous,’ she reminded him. ‘We must pray for her continued health.’ Her fears were well-founded, given the fate of their mother, Queen Aemma, yet Viserys waved away her worries, declaring that Y/N was strong and in good hands.

Despite the undercurrents of discontent, the birth of Aemerys Lannister was hailed as a triumph, a symbol of unity between the houses of dragon and lion. As ravens flew across the realm, carrying news of the child’s birth, lords and ladies from all corners sent their congratulations, along with speculations about what this union might mean for the future of Westeros.”

Mushroom concludes:

“The birth of Aemerys Lannister was not just the joining of two bloodlines. It was the spark that would light a fire—one that might burn bright, or burn all it touched. Only time would tell whether the lion and the dragon would share their den peacefully, or if their roars and flames would one day shake the very foundations of the realm.”

The Shadow of a Lion-Dragon (116 AC)

Grand Maester Mellos writes:

“While the court of King’s Landing celebrated the birth of Aemerys Lannister with feasting and toasts, far to the west in the halls of Castamere, another gathering took place—one less jubilant for its host. Lord Allard Reyne’s wedding day, long anticipated for its spectacle and grandeur, was darkened by the arrival of a raven bearing the news from Casterly Rock.

The announcement of a Lannister heir, born of a Targaryen princess, overshadowed the marriage festivities, casting a long shadow over what should have been the proudest day of Lord Allard’s life. Many who had come to honor his union with Lady Marissa Lefford found their attention drawn instead to the implications of the child’s birth. A boy of Valyrian and Lannister blood was a rarity, a symbol of power and unity that few could ignore.

Lord Damon Lannister, uncle to Jason and acting lord in his nephew’s absence, was among the first to raise his goblet. ‘To Aemerys Lannister,’ he declared loudly, his voice ringing through the hall, ‘a lion with dragon’s wings, born to bring strength and fire to our house.’ His toast was met with cheers from the Lannister party and murmurs of unease from others.

Tyland Lannister, younger twin brother to Jason and a member of the King’s Small Council, was also present as an envoy from the capital. Ever sharp-tongued and observant, Tyland followed Damon’s toast with one of his own. ‘May young Aemerys grow strong and wise,’ he said, his words laced with an unmistakable edge. ‘And may he remind us all of what true power looks like.’ Though his tone was measured, the room caught the underlying provocation, and many turned their eyes to Lord Allard, whose face had grown visibly tense.”

Mushroom, as always, offers his own account:

“Oh, how I wish I could’ve been a fly on the wall at Castamere that day! Allard Reyne, strutting like a cockerel in his crimson cloak, had planned a feast to rival the greatest in the West. But when the raven came bearing news of Aemerys’s birth, it was as though a storm had blown through the hall.

The fool thought his wedding would cement his standing among the lords of the Westerlands. Instead, the talk of every table turned to the lion-dragon born at Casterly Rock. Guests who had traveled far for Allard’s feast whispered of the child’s Valyrian blood, the strength of his lineage, and what his birth meant for House Lannister. Even Lady Marissa, poor thing, couldn’t hide her discomfort as her new husband’s fury simmered beneath the surface.

And then came the toasts! Lord Damon, always the one to speak plainly, made his allegiance clear with his bold praise of Jason’s heir. But Tyland—oh, Tyland! That one knows how to twist the knife. His words were a clever blade, sheathed in politeness but sharp enough to draw blood. ‘True power,’ he said, and Allard’s knuckles turned white on his goblet.

By the end of the night, Allard looked ready to storm Casterly Rock himself, though I doubt he would’ve made it past the gates. A lion of Castamere he may be, but against the might of the Rock, he’s little more than a cub.”

Grand Maester Mellos continues:

“It is said that Lord Allard’s mood darkened further as the evening wore on. While his guests continued to toast and dance, his mind lingered on the implications of the news. The birth of Aemerys was not merely a personal triumph for Jason Lannister but a public declaration of the strength and unity of House Lannister under his leadership.

Toasts continued throughout the night, with many guests offering polite congratulations on the wedding but lingering longer on the significance of the newborn heir. Tyland, ever the diplomat, ensured that no slight against Allard was made openly, but his words planted seeds of unease that would not soon be forgotten.”

Mushroom concludes:

“Oh, and the bride? Poor Lady Marissa tried her best to salvage the evening, smiling and curtsying through it all, but even she couldn’t keep her husband’s simmering temper from casting a pall over the night.

Mark my words, dear reader: Allard Reyne’s wedding feast will not be remembered for its music or its wine but for the raven that stole his moment. The lion-dragon born at the Rock cast a long shadow that night, and it’s a shadow that still lingers over Castamere to this day.”

[timsluvr]

because, wolfstar

(not mine!)

in which sirius sneaks into remus’ bed in the middle of the night, nervousness ensues

warnings: early relationship, nightmares, nervousness, them trying to be machos lol (for 2 secs)

…… ❔

Remus pulls the freshly washed blanket higher, letting out a content sigh when he feels it tickle his chin. The Gryffindor dorm isn’t particularly cold, but the snow storm outside is reckless and he’d been daydreaming about his warm bed for the whole day.

The room is quiet, except for the soft breathing of his sound asleep mates and the occasional sleepy murmurs from Peter - which Remus can't stop himself from smiling at because his friend would probably drop dead from embarrassment if he found out about his sleep talking habits.

His eye squints open when he hears his bed curtains opening slightly, a familiar bundle of raven curls peaking inside. Remus' feels his cheeks heat up at the sight of his boyfriend, cheeks puffy from sleep, curls tousled and what seems to be a residue of drool on the corner of his lips. Adorable.

He can't help but feel doubtful on how to react, not really used to this kind of thing. The strongest side tells him to pull Sirius into a bone crushing snuggle and cover his puffy face with a thousand kisses. But the other tells him to act cool, just like Sirius would.

"Moony?" Sirius whispers, way too softly for Remus' liking. Well, he actually loves when Padfoot gets sweet on him, but it usually takes a few more head scratches and nuzzles for it to happen. And now, after rubbing his eyes, the sight his lover's alarmed eyes are something he really doesn't like.

"Yeah?"

"Can i lay here?" He fidgets with his fingers as he speaks, trying to mask the pleading in his tone by clearing his throat.

"Why?" It comes out harsher than intended, but Remus really his trying to keep it cool. Besides, this is all new and he's never been good at new things.

"Because." Sirius shrugs. But the way his shoulders slightly shake, expecting rejection, doesn't go unnoticed by his boyfriend. "Remus-"

"You can!" Remus sits up quickly, wincing at the way his words come out too loud. "Sorry. You can lay here."

The raven haired boy complies rather quickly, squeezing himself besides Remus on the bed that's definitely too tiny for two growing teenagers.

They lay in silence for a few moments, just enough time to get used to the feeling of their arms and legs pressed together. It feels weird that the situation is awkward, after all they snog for hours in empty classrooms all the time. But this feels different, more vulnerable in way.

"Moons?" Sirius turns on his side, breath fanning across Remus' cheek in a soft way. The way the corner of his eyes are red makes his heart thump weird, a sense of protectiveness washing over him.

He hums in response, afraid of saying something that would make Sirius hide inside his walls again.

"Can you hug me?" It's barely a whisper.

"Course i can, yeah." Remus nods reassuringly, slightly relieved that whatever upset his lover can be solved with comfort.

It's a matter of seconds before Sirius is nestled in his arms, soft curls tickling his chin in a comfortable way and cold nose contrasting with the warm skin of his neck. He wraps his arms around his boyfriend's shoulder, tracing random patterns over his pyjamas with his fingers and occasionally massaging his neck.

Sirius lets out a content hum, one that sounds more like a purr and makes Remus want to question why he didn't choose to be able to turn into a cat instead. He'd make a cute cat.

"Sorry for waking you up."

"That's okay, babe." Lupin answers quickly, not daring to overthink the use of the sappy pet name.

"I'll wake up early to leave." Sirius struggles to mumble sleepily.

"'kay. Don't worry too much, Pads." He presses a kiss against the other's dark curls.

Remus sighs, taking a moment to think about the whole thing. His first guess for Sirius' distress would be nightmare, at least at this time of the day. He dreads to think of the times the other had to deal with them alone.

"I'm here, always." He finds himself saying.

Sirius hums, squeezing Lupin to tell him he's been heard. The last thing he feels is a a kiss to his forehead, terrors long forgotten.

[puppiesandnightlock]

READ ON AO3: I will fall in love with you over and over again

for this year’s secret Santa, I got @spicy-apple-pie :D

prompt was domestic damijon on a homestead, bonus if there was porch swing cuddles. I HOPE I DID IT JUSTICE!! HAPPY HOLIDAYSSSSSSSSSS

The moon was sinking lower outside, still just enough to shine through the slit in the curtains. Out in the barn, the rooster began to crow, causing Damian to stir. 

He blinked a few times, mouth opening in a silent yawn. His husband was curled up on his chest, a direct opposite to how they’d fallen asleep the previous night. The clock on their bedside table told him that it was 5 in the morning on a Saturday, just around the time that a weekday would start. He struggled with attempting to sit up, only to have Jon’s hand tighten around the sheets.

He was under no impression that the other man hadn’t heard their natural alarm, chuckling a bit as he ran his hand through messy raven curls, sticking up one side with bed-head. Neither wished to leave the little cocoon of comfort and warmth they’d created for the morning sky, but duty called.

“Jonathan.” Damian said softly, voice a bit rough with sleep. “I’ve got to see to the chores.”

“Noooo.” Jon buried his face into the firm stomach beneath him. “Stay. Just for a few more minutes. The chores can wait a few more minutes.”

“The cows-”

“Are on a tight schedule and get milked at exactly six fifteen every morning, you would run outside barefoot in your pajamas to keep it that way. It’s the weekend, we can sleep just a bit longer.”

Damian needed little persuasion, still half asleep and easily lured by the promise of warmth and someone he loved. Still.

“Things need to be done,” he protested weakly, beginning to lie back down. Jon made a noncommittal humming noise as Damian’s hand began to run gently up and down his spine.

“And they’ll still be there in another thirty minutes.”

Jon scooted up to have his face next to his husband’s, bringing a hand to brush his hair out of his eyes. They smiled at each other softly before he destroyed the silence with a cheeky, “I win.”

“Shut up, Hayseed.” The other man grumbled, turning over and tugging the covers up to his shoulders. Jon wiggled under them, setting his chin on his shoulder and arms around his waist in a spooning position.

They drifted off for a bit longer until the light of the moon had gone. The clock hit 5:45 and this time, the both of them got up, stretching and ambling to the restroom.

Jon’s phone played an upbeat morning playlist as they brushed their teeth in tandem, just another part of the daily routine. About ten minutes later, the both of them left the house, exchanging a chaste morning kiss before heading off to their respective chores, an elderly Titus lifting his head from where his bed was and a younger puppy trotting at Damian’s heels.

Damian opened the door to the barn, gently greeting the animals and leading the cows to the proper station, starting the order.

Jon was out in the fields, doing a quick overview of the place and checking the irrigation. Once he’d gone through that, he stopped by the barn to heft the bag of chicken feed over his shoulder and pet their two horses' noses on the way out. The cows had just finished, Damian leading them out to pasture. 

The sun rays spiked in the sky, chasing the dark of the night as the two young men worked to kick-start their morning. The chickens waddled out of the coop, ambling towards the feed scattered on the ground. Jon smiled, crouching into their home and plucking the eggs with deft fingers. 

Damian passed him with a smile, crouching to greet some of the chickens and the rooster before going to the barn and checking the food bowl of the barn cats, all three of which were curled up in the hayloft.

The horses nickered as he approached them, filling their troughs and checking the water levels. They’d be let out after breakfast into the fields, but for now, they were content to be pet and spoken to lovingly.

A basket full of eggs on his arm, Jon leaned over to the side, making note of the sign of newly sprouting weeds in the smaller garden. They’d be weeding after eating, he supposed.

Damian stepped into the house just as Jon had begun to fill the dogs’ food bowl. The younger pup raced towards the bowl, beating out Titus, who preferred to come closer to Damian to be scratched.

“Aseema,” Damian clicked, calling her to his feet. She bounced back from the food bowl, sitting impatiently on the floor in front of him. She’d been the most recent addition to their ever growing farm family, chosen from a litter their neighbors had recently had. He praised her for waiting, releasing both dogs to eat.

Jon had begun to put the eggs away for the next day’s farmer’s market, Damian joining him in the kitchen to wash his hands and begin breakfast for the two of them. 

He’d begun the coffee, the morning meal scent filling the air and aiding the homey atmosphere. He came around Damian’s other side, hugging him from behind and swaying them both in a rhythm that had his husband laughing quietly, leaning back and looking at him with twinkling eyes.

“What are you doing, ya amar?” 

“Dancing, duh.” 

Jon turned him around to face him, tugging Damian’s arms around his neck and moving them both around the kitchen. He rolled his eyes fondly, stating, “This is not dancing.”

“Shhh, take your training and shove it, this is my dancing in my kitchen.”

“We share this house.”

“Stop being logical, you’re interrupting the magic.”

He muffled his laughter into Jon’s shoulder, letting him move them around the tile floor until both their stomachs reminded them that breakfast was a very much needed meal of the day, prompting them to detach themselves from each other and begin dishing out the food. They ate quickly on the island in their kitchen, cleaning up the mess and setting out to begin a new list.

“We’ve got to weed later today,” Jon mentioned as they walked out, heading for the barn. Damian nodded, adding it to the list. There wasn’t much they had to do, both grateful for an opportunity for a lazy Saturday. They led the horses out into the pasture, checking up on the cows before heading back. 

The garden tools were carried to the little patch of earth, Damian kneeling in the dirt to begin. Jon passed him the needed tools, getting his own and beginning himself.

It hadn’t been more than a few minutes when Damian looked over and remarked teasingly, “One would think Superboy would have already had more weeds out than I do.” 

Jon scoffed playfully, wiping his cheek with his hand. It only served to smear more dirt on it, his husband noted with affection. “Everything doesn’t have to be a competition, darlin’.”

“Maybe not,” Damian hummed, grinning at the way Jon sped up in an attempt to clear his side of the garden first anyways.

They worked quicker, glancing over at each other, throwing jeers and checking to see how far each was falling behind.

“Didn’t you say it wasn’t a competition, habibi?” 

“This is your fault.” Jon accused, pointing the root of one of the offending plants his way. “You knew this would happen.” 

“I do know what makes you tick.” Damian’s brow quirked. “Don’t tell me you didn’t see where I was pushing towards.”

“I didn’t think I’d fall for it,” He grumbled, throwing the weed at him. Damian felt the incoming projectile, dodging it but getting dirt on his clothing. He made a face and lunged, throwing one at Jon’s back in return.

Jon squawked as he felt the impact, arms flailing. He turned, armed, and suddenly dirt and weeds were flying in the air, laughter and screeches echoing around the fields. 

“I still won,” Damian claimed as they were picking up the fallen weeds. “I had more.”

“Sure, whatever you say.” Jon rolled his eyes goodnaturedly. “We’re filthy, by the way.”

“And who’s fault is that?” Damian brushed off the edge of his shirt. They were both covered in dirt and sweat, more than usual due to the deliberateness of the previous actions.

“Arguably, yours.” His husband gathered the plants and zipped out, dumping them in the proper bin and returning to see Damian scowling at him. It was always rather fun to be the cause of that expression when it was about something unserious as this.

“Mine? Try again, Corncob, I wasn’t the one who shot the first bullet.”

“You started the competition and you egged me on. In a chain of events, you tipped the domino. Rippled the water. Started the butterfly effect.” 

Damian opened his mouth to protest, Jon stopping him with a kiss to the corner of his mouth.

“You can keep going and stay covered in dirt and standing in the sun that’s only going to get hotter, or hurry up and finish so you can shower.”

“…Tt.” He turned on his heel, calling out the few things he was going to do. Jon nodded, turning the other direction to do the things that could be done with a little bit of help from his kryptonian heritage.

By the time he arrived back into the house, the barely afternoon sun had risen high, bringing a gentle warmth just enough to contrast the still cool breeze of the morning.

There was a folded blanket on the kitchen counter and Jon figured if he checked the fridge, there would be a basket filled with lunch. He sped up the stairs as the faucet squeaked, shutting off the sounds of the shower. His husband emerged a few minutes later, toweling his hair off and having exchanged his work clothes for casual wear. 

“In,” Damian poked him playfully. Jon swatted at him, but kissed his cheek as he passed.

“I’m going, I’m going,”

By the time he was done, Damian was waiting with the basket and blanket under one arm, offering his other hand to Jon, who took it immediately.

He swung their hands between the two as they walked up towards the hill overlooking the pasture, just on the edge of their property. Aseema scampered ahead, Titus ambling behind her until he found a spot where he wanted to sleep. Jon spread the blanket under the shade, Damian handing him food and sitting down. It was a rather quiet moment, just silence speaking volumes between the two as they watched what they’d made of life flourish, from the grazing animals to the growing crops, all from a distance.

After the food was eaten and everything packed away accordingly, Damian pulled out his sketchbook, listening to Jon ramble to him about anything and everything. He’d listen to his voice forever, if he could. His hand moved of its own volition, pencil outlining the features of the person next to him in a movement so familiar he wondered if he could draw him with his eyes closed. 

“D?” Jon had stopped, looking at him with a lopsided smile. Damian looked up, blinking at him. “Why did you stop? You were making an excellent point.”

“I thought maybe you had gotten bored.”

He tsked, managing to look almost offended. “Jonathan, it’s much too late for these thoughts now. I married you for all of you, and you know very well that if I didn’t want to hear you speak, I’d find some way to shut you up.”

(I love you, I love hearing you talk because it’s a part of you. Don’t feel bad.)

“I know, Dames. “ Jon leaned back, putting his head into Damian’s lap. “Don’t mind me, just my brain being stupid.”

“Tt, tell it to knock it off. Only I can be mean to you.” The tone was fond, the hand holding onto his sketchbook falling to tug affectionately at raven curls.

“Yes, sir,” he joked in return, shutting his eyes as Damian’s hand left his hair and returned to his artwork.

The shade began to get longer, the sun dipping down from its afternoon high. With a sigh, both men got up, Jon dashing to drop off the things from their afternoon in the house while Damian made his way to the pasture. The both of them began to bring in the cows and horses, leading them to their stalls. 

Their livestock were cared for and fed accordingly, the both of them bidding them good night, for as the evening settled in, they would not return. The dogs followed behind them both obediently as Jon and Damian began to close up their home for the night.

Stars hadn’t yet appeared when they arrived home, the sun barely beginning to set. The food was heated, warming in the stove as the two settled into their evening, quiet and peaceful as they hung around the kitchen. As Damian walked past to check on the food, Jon moved forwards, spinning Damian around to face him and picking him up, arms around his waist.

“Dami,” He sing-songed, twirling them around a few times cheerfully. 

“Jon.” Damian looked down at him, hands holding onto his shoulders and despite himself, lips twitching upwards in amusement.

“Let’s eat dinner on the swing, please?” He whined, nuzzling into the side of his neck.

“You’re a child.” Damian remarked dryly. “I married a child.”

“That’s a yes, right?” 

“Put me down and I’ll consider it.” 

As his feet touched the ground, he launched a plate at his husband, Jon yelping and catching it. “Damian!”

“You caught it.” He smirked, filling his plate with dinner. Jon made a rumbly noise, hip checking him playfully as he moved to get his own dinner. Titus was snoozing on the porch with Aseema tucked into his side when they got out, the sun nearly gone. 

Jon sat, arm stretched over the back of the swing and plate on his lap. Damian leaned back onto his arm, the both of them quietly watching the stars taken over the midwestern sky.

Once the food was gone and plates stacked on the floor, he leaned into him, head falling onto his shoulder and legs curled behind him. Jon’s feet rocked the swing in a soothing rhythm, the soft squeaking blending in with the quiet song of the night. 

“I love you,” Damian mumbled, eyes half closed as he rested against his husband. 

Jon’s free arm wrapped around him, pulling him closer. “I love you, too.”

“Tell me about the stars,” he requested, feeling a gentle kiss land in his hair. Jon’s voice, soft now, carried through the night as they held each other, the world nothing but the two of them.

Tomorrow will be another day, a new set of challenges and smiles and laughter, each finding new ways to love each other more and more. 

[knight-of-flowerss]

BLOOD SACRIFICE

Vampire!Benjicot 'Davos' Blackwood x Septa!Reader

There will be smut so Minors DNI 18+

SNIPPET OF ONE OF THE THREE STORIES!

Synopsis: Many say the church can protect you against evil, that’s a lie. You pray to the Seven for forgiveness and protection, but they do not grant it. The stranger himself gets invited into the church, what will you do when he bears his fangs and gives you the choice between death or lust?

The stained glass shines from the illumination of the moon, the light refracting and casting shadows. My veil covers my hair, billowing down my back and coating the floor in the laced fabric.

My hand clutches my rosary, my mouth moving fast as I mutter prayers to the Seven. There had been talks of a monster amongst us. Murders of young, vulnerable women had become the new town myth, they say a Vampire.

Yes, a Vampire apparently walks amongst us. Ridiculous but precautions must be maintained.

We do not know if the Vampire is tall or short. Young or old. Pretty or ugly. All we know is that there is someone with a bloodlust amongst us.

My prayers are dedicated to the Seven, specifically the Warrior. I prayed to him for protection, to help rid us of this foul disease plaguing the Riverlands.

"I pray to the Warrior for protection and bravery, give me strength and safety and I will forever be in your debt." I mutter, my eyes closed and mind blank, only focusing on the words I’m speaking and which of the Seven I am praying to.

After praying to the Warrior, the Father, Mother, Maiden, the Crone and even the Smith, I go to pray to the Stranger, but something stops me.

I hear a scratch on wood. I stop my prayer for a few seconds, listening to hear. Nothing. So I go back to praying. "I pray to the Stranger-" scratch, scratch, scratch.

I pause, my eyebrows furrowing as I finally open my eyes, moving my eyes around the very empty church, my eyes land on nothing. There is nothing here with me. There must be rats in the wall.

I open my mouth to continue before a loud banging makes me jump and drop my rosary. I look behind me and see the door shake with the sheer force of the knocks.

Once the knocks cease I get the courage to call out in the darkness, "Who comes here at the hour of the wolf?"

Silence. "Answer me!" Silence as well.

I stand up from my sitting position, discarding my rosary as it lays neglected on the floor. I slowly walk towards the large double doors, my bare feet planting on the cold stone.

My body reaches the door, fingers instinctively reaching out and grabbing onto the handle. I go to pull it but I hesitate. What was on the other side? A cat? A person? The killer?…

You only live once, if I am to die then I am to die, it is what the Seven want.

I use a lot of my strength to pull open one of the doors to reveal the cold to the warm.

As my eyes scour as much as the darkness allows me to see. I turn my head right, nothing. I turn my head left, a shadow.

I shriek out of shock, jumping as I look at the body before me. A man. He has scruffy black hair, a cocky grin and a scar above his lip.

"Greetings, Septa." He smirks, enjoying my reaction. Who was this man? "Greetings… how may I help you?…" My tone is sceptical, unsure.

"I need a place to rest until the morrow. Well, it already is, what I mean is when the sun rises." He flashes a charming but cocky smile, stepping slowing infront of me. He was tall and lean, towering over me.

"Of course, you could have just came inside you know? Come, step inside, you are always welcome at the Church." His smile widens and turns into a smirk. His eyes flashing an emotion I cannot put my finger on. But it wasn’t just an emotion. I swear I had saw his deep, dark eyes flash a bright red, but it was dark, the hour of the wolf, I am just tired.

I welcomed the young man inside, smiling politely as I let him in. Shutting the door, I do not realise the danger I face. I have just locked myself in an isolated Church with a Vampire. Gods help me…

Tags: @thethreeeyed-raven @lost-in-fiction-like-ur-mom