#Fanfcition

[hiddenlife-manager]

Heron x Fem Reader

cw… plot with smut, weird position called tango, clit rubbing, comfort sex, quick pace, long, creampie, angst, heron being a bit brash, kissing, love making, fucking from behind, etc...

notepad… Honestly yall recovering from wisdom teeth was awful. I had to get more pills to relieve the pain! ITS BEEN A WEEK AND IM ON MY KNEES CRYING! EITHER WAY THIS IS MORE PLOT THAN SMUT!

It was all off; you two finally could have the life both of you dreamed of. There would be no backlash whenever you were with him due to his reputation. It was supposed to be what you two desired; why then? Why is it that you are on a large kline alone in the middle of the night? The moment you sat up, your drapes slowly slipped off your shoulders. Winter was about to end, yet it was still chilly, especially up in Olympus. There was an open balcony right in front of the kline, so the air easily entered the chamber. The curtains around the kline were swaying with the chilly night breeze; it was obvious you were cold.

“Heron?” Soft—that was all you could really describe your voice as you called his name. You glanced around the dark chambers, but no one. Not a single soul. Heron was gone; he was still very injured from the battle against the giants. Your mind was filled with worried thoughts. Quickly, your legs scooched off the kline and you walked over to the balcony. The breeze hit you hard, and all your body could do was shiver from the temperature. Your eyes danced around the view. Olympus was nothing but breathtaking, despite the clear damage caused by the battle. No sight, though, could stop the worries. “Heron?”

There were no signs of him; he wasn’t on Olympus, and nothing you could see led your eyes to him. You did not stop looking around, glancing back and forth, focusing on the smallest of things your eyes could catch. Nothing, then, in a distance out in the battle field, lightning struck. You gasped, as there was no cloud in the sky before; it was a clear night. Your hands rose up, your fingertips slightly grazing your bottom lip. There, your eyes finally focused on a white horse with wings soaring through the sky and towards your chambers; on top of it was Heron. 

“Heron…” You let out shock; he was the one who caused the lightning strike; it was him all along. You leaned onto the balcony, your hands removing from your lips to hold onto the ledge. You tried to get a better look, but he was still so far from you until he finally reached the ledge and hopped off the horse. He looked down at you; he didn’t look happy to see you. “Heron, where have you been? I was worried.”

“Do not worry about it.” He said that and walked past you; he seemed tense, and you could tell he was on the battle field. His white chiton was ruined by dirt. You reached for his hand and gripped his wrist, your drapes slipping off once more. You shrugged your shoulders, attempting to fix the drapes on your shoulders. 

“Heron, do not lie to me. Talk to me.” Begging—you were begging; it was pathetic. In your head, you would never beg, but for him, you would beg him. You two were about to finally have the life you two dreamed of—the one you two would wish for under the stars back in the polis. 

“It is my business.” He pulled his hand away from you and glared. You froze from under his gaze; it was as if there was a sense of hatred behind them—was it for you or was it for something else?

“It is our business; you chose to love me. To have me for the rest of your life, talk to me.” His eyes suddenly turned from hatred to weakness. He raised his hands from his sides and placed them through his hair. He pulled at it and groaned. He began to pace and back forth, and there you could tell something was eating inside him. 

“The gods…” He paused and turned to you, grabbed at your shoulders, and looked down at you. “The gods use us; Seraphim was right. All they do is use us as pawns for their games; we are the ones who suffer. I killed Seraphim; he could have been saved. Do you understand that we were made from the start to be enemies? We were destined to do this. We are pawns.” He looked like he was distressed; he placed his forehead on yours and just sighed. “What am I for?” He found himself repeating those words over and over. 

“You are Heron. Not just a pawn; you can change it. We can leave. We do not need Olympus, nor the gods.” He raised his head from your forehead, his blue eyes staring down at you. He fixed your hair and nodded. “What happened to you and Seraphim should have never happened. Hera used him; Hera made him kill your mother.”

“We will leave after the funeral games. We will leave; I will not let them use us as pawns anymore.” It was like a change; he finally decided what he had to do. He could not be here any longer, and you could see it; the deaths of all his family members had just changed him. He wasn’t the same boy back in the polis. 

“Heron, we can do this.” There was silence—pure silence—no sounds other than the breeze rushing into the chambers, causing your body to once again shiver. His hands pulled you in closer, and he leaned down. What changed? It was because you were there for him more than anyone in his life. It was you; there was no one else. He finally pressed himself against you. The kiss was not full of lust; it was attentive and filled with his emotions. He desired a moment with you; he finally got it; he couldn’t lose you. You could feel his longing in his lips; he dared not pull away. 

“I cannot lose you.”

“Never, you could never lose me. I refuse to die.” He looked at you, his eyes resembling the beautiful blue of lightning. He pulled you down onto the beautiful wool rug, woven with perfection. The scene on the rug looked as if it were moving. He had you on top of him, and his hands shifted your drapes off of you. He moved you to his side; in front of him, he wanted you here on the floor, not the kline. 

“May I?” You nodded, and there his hands grazed your drapes and lifted them up. He gripped your soft thighs and raised your right leg to go over his own leg. Your back rested on his arm while that hand grabbed your breast. His lips kissed your neck. It was an intimate position; you two were intertwined to be one. His hands massaged at your breast, and your head was pushed back to the floor, giving him the best access to your neck. He used his free hand that was not under you to shift his cock out of his chiton. “We can finally have each other.” It was wrong; it was out of wedlock, but you two did not care. 

His hand that stroked at his cock shifted it to your pussy; he rubbed at your clit getting you wet and ready for him. This was not your first time; you two were young and in love. In the polis you two used the forest to just love each other. It was wrong, and if anyone found out, he would have been beaten or, worse, killed. His lips continued to stay attached to your neck, and the soft sounds of pleasure came from you. 

“I am sorry.” He whispered beside your ear and shoved himself slowly into you, your head raised in pleasure, then laid back down. His thrust was slow, but compared to anything, he was filled with love. He was filled with a desire to not lose you. He had lost so many, and you were not going to end up like the rest. Your life was all he needed to protect. His leg was in between your two legs while his cock went in and slightly went out, but not fully. He was always in you, no matter if he was thrusting in or out. 

You felt your body press against his chest and the rug; you two felt immense pleasure together. He was doing it to relish in your body; all he needed was you. His life had changed overnight, and you were the only constant. Many would have desired to feel each other's bodies on a kline you two only needed the floor. His strong, callused hands massaged at your breast, and his thighs burned each time he thrust up into your sopping wet hole. He treated your body like a temple, not daring to ruin it with his own touch. It was full of care; his lips were still attached to your neck, and when you moved your head to look at him,.

“Together till the end.” You gasped out, feeling him thrust back up your right leg, still over his leg that was between you, which allowed him to thrust into you comfortably. You raised a singular hand, grabbing at his neck, and pressed your lips once more into a deeper kiss. He suddenly felt himself tear up the moment your lips were moving against his. You realized it and began to wipe away his tears while he continued to thrust. He was a silent lover, one who rarely made sounds, but you knew whenever he was close, his cock was twitching inside you. “We will leave; we will no longer be used by them.” He nodded, and his hands on your breast shifted to your shoulder. He pulled you closer to him, thrusting into you a bit faster. “Yes… yes… yes…”

He relished in your moans; they were soft and lacked loudness. There was no lust; there was only comfort. He needed this more than anything. Your drapes were still so loose on your body that your top half was no longer on your body, while they were still on your lower half and moved to the side, allowing him full access to your chest. His cock began to twitch inside you, your moans becoming breathier with each thrust. 

“You are all I need.” Heron whispered into your ear, causing you to release the simple declaration of love. He may not have said he loved you, but in his words, it meant that. Your cunt clenched down onto his cock, and that was the feeling he loved. The feeling that was always able to pull out a grunt from him. “Let's rest here.” He muttered as your cunt continued to milk his cock. Your hand weakly wiped away the tears still present on his cheek. He had gone through so much, and you wanted to be there for him.

[padfootagain]

Coming Home

Hi!! Answering a request by @stevecore here! Thank you for your request!

Hope you like it! It’s pretty sweet! Tell me what you think!

****

Pairing: Hozier x fem! Reader

Warning: Fluff, comfort, being reunited

Summary: After being separated for several weeks because of his touring, you and Andrew are finally reunited as you come pick him up at the airport.

Word Count: 1990

Hozier’s Masterlist – Main Masterlist

By the window, you can see the planes landing. The dark tarmac, the rain falling, turning skies grey and the world blurry. Such busy places, airports. Happy ones, too, for the most part. You think about the journeys you have started in this place, the adventures you have gotten yourself into, the wonderful memories you have built.

A mother hushes her child past you, carrying the boys backpack, heading closer to the gate you were patiently waiting before as well. The boy seems excited, he must be waiting for someone, just like you are. You remain behind most of the group that has gathered in front of the large sign screaming ARRIVALS. You don’t want to draw attention to yourself, or to the person you’re waiting for. You don’t want anyone to notice who you’ve been missing, who you’re about to meet again.

You check your watch, for what has to be the thousandth time. Andrew should have reached you twenty minutes ago now, but planes are rarely on time. You heave a sigh, try to ignore the giddy feeling that tickles your stomach when you think of him, of holding the man you love again, of welcoming him home.

It’s a risky business, to come pick him up at the airport and to wait at the terminal instead of the car. Anyone could recognise him, take a picture, put it on social media, and you don’t want to be included in the public part of his life. None of you want to. This, what you share together, it’s just for the two of you. That’s what makes you a safe place for him, that’s what makes him be him when you’re around, that’s what keeps you safe, too. So, you’re extra careful not to be in anybody’s way, staying a few steps away from the small crowd. No one is paying attention to you, and you’re satisfied with that. The risk is worth it, though. Andrew’s been away for three months, it’s one of the longest runs he’s done without seeing you at all, and you’re missing him so much at this point, you’ve stopped functioning properly. This long distance part of your relationship is shit, but you love him, and you know he wouldn’t be happy without music in his life. So, it’s worth it. Besides, there are very few moments as happy as your reunions. Holding him against you again makes it worth the long, lonely wait.

The last time you were here, it was to help Andrew carry his stuff when he left. You can see yourself again, walking across the hall, putting on a brave face while your heart was breaking, carrying his guitar and one of his bags while Andrew carried the rest. You remember seeing Alex and Rory from afar, they were all leaving together, but Andrew had stopped while still being a fair distance away from them. He had turned to you, a gentle smile on his lips despite his eyes turning fully green with tears.

I’ll call you when I land.

You close your eyes for a second, feeling his arms around you, the way he had held you close that morning, three months ago.

Wait for me. I love you more than anything. Let me come back to you.

He says that every time he leaves, like he expects you to move on without him. How can he be so fucking stupid? How can he be so blind as to not see that you would wait a lifetime for him if you had to.

You can almost feel his lips onto yours, the skin tickles with the memory of his stubble brushing your chin, of his hot breath on your mouth, of his fingers on your cheeks.

You hear a small boy crying out, and you notice it’s the one who has walked by you just a moment before. He rushes through the crowd to an old man wearing a tweed cap and a long blue coat. Grey hair, a grin on his lips as he bends to scoop up the boy. You smile as you watch the cute reunion, grandfather and grandson together again.

That means your man should come out soon, too. Usually, Andrew lingers at the back of the groups of passengers, waiting for most people to be gone or too busy with their loved ones to pay any attention to him. So, you’re surprised when you see him towering above the crowd, a red cap on his head, his hair tied in a messy bun. He’s wearing a simple brown blazer, some blue jeans, an old black hoodie. At least three layers of clothing. Your eyes water at the sight, you can’t help the wave of fondness that washes over your heart. Him and his bloody layers…

You wave at him, trying to be discreet, but that’s enough for him to spot you, his eyes scanning the crowd until they find yours. You’re surprised again when he makes a bee line to you, moving awkwardly across the crowd, head down and apologies stumbling again and again from his lips. He’s not being discreet at all, but you don’t mind, because that means he’s almost reached you now. You don’t spot Alex, nor Rory behind him, and to be honest you don’t care at all about them. You guess they’re waiting patiently for the crowd to dissipate, but Andrew hasn’t. He’s almost running now, his long legs devouring the metres that still separate the two of you, and you move towards him as well. You catch his gaze with yours and see the same relief, the same haste, the same desperation in his eyes as the feelings you recognise in your own heart. You’re going to cry, any second now, but you don’t mind…

He lets his bags drop at his feet, his guitar case strapped to his back, and then his arms are wrapped around you, capturing you in a tight embrace, one that makes it hard to breathe, but you don’t mind. The mere sight of him has knocked all the air out of your lungs anyway, and you hold him with the same desperation.

You break when you breathe in his cologne, something woody and filled with rain, something so familiar, something that screams home to you…

“Christ…”

His voice is weak and shaking, deeper than usual, you know he’s crying too. Happy tears though. Your tears are happy and relieved. He tries to move away but you cling onto him, making him chuckle as he holds you again.

“I’ve missed you so much,” he whispers in your ear, the arm around your waist helping you keep your balance while you’re on your tiptoes and he’s bent down to bury his face in your hair. “Jesus… I’ve missed you so fucking much.”

You can hear the tears in his voice, the way his throat has tightened, but you’re no better, so you can’t tease him about being a sap…

“I’ve missed you too. I’m so glad you’re home, baby…”

He relaxes in your arms as he hears the pet name. Your embrace is his true home, your sweet perfume numbs his senses and tells him he’s right where he belongs. Three months without you was too long, he’ll never make another run so long again, he can’t function properly anymore, and he would be lying, were he to pretend that he took care of himself. He knows that when you’re home you’ll worry when you help him out of his clothes, between kisses you’ll run your fingers down his chest and frown at the traces of his ribs under his skin. You won’t say anything, you’d never make a comment about his weight, but he knows what your frown will mean. That you’re noticing he’s lost some weight, and you’ll worry he’s not eating enough on the road, that he’s not taking care of himself. You’ll serve him an extra portion of pasta at lunch, a few hours later, after you’ve taken a shower together and spent a few hours catching up on the intimacy and pleasure you’ve missed on these past months. He’ll say nothing, and eat everything, and he won’t say it but he’ll feel that warm feeling, that radiant fondness he has only for you, because you take care of him… because you love him…

He's waited so long to hold you, it feels like a lifetime ago since he left. Touring is hectic and generally makes him lose track of time, but this time around he was away from you for too long. He had been counting down the days till he would be home for the past month. He’s never staying away for so long again… never again…

You move your head to kiss him, he knows that’s what your hand in his hair means, and he meets you halfway, turns to kiss you, at long last. He’s waited so long for this, and he doesn’t know how you do it. How kissing you, even after years of relationship, is still as exciting as your very first kiss. How he still has the same butterflies, the same warmth in his chest, the same stammering of his heart. Although, he’s wrong, it’s not quite the same, he realises it now. It’s better, thanks to all the time you have spent together, all the love you have nurtured for each other along the years.

When he pulls away, he holds your face in the palm of his hand to look at you, to study your face, committing each detail to memory, even if he already knows every millimetre of your face, of your entire body. He dries your cheek with his thumb, gives you an emotional yet bright grin.

“Hey, gorgeous,” he says, making you smile.

“Hey, handsome,” you answer, making him stupidly giggle.

He feels giddy, like a schoolboy, euphoric even.

And you feel the same. You straighten his cap on his head, you’ve messed it up when you kissed him and got a little carried away. You have a million things to say, a thousand stories to tell him despite talking with him on the phones almost daily, a billion kisses to shower him with and all you can think now that you stare at his handsome features is the bed you share together and the feeling of his skin against yours, how you long to feel it again.

You’re about to tell him that you should go home. He’s going to nod, and kiss you again before grabbing his things and heading out of the airport without waiting for Alex and Rory. He’s told them goodbye when they picked up their luggage, and he won’t even think about them when you hold onto his arm and pull him towards the exit. He’s going to let you drive because he’s tired after his flight, and it’s your car anyway. You’ll chat, and he’ll call you a goddess for having a thermos of black coffee waiting for him on the passenger seat. You’ll head home and spend the day together, and the week together, and the month together, as much time as you can, before he has to leave again.

But for now, there is something important that you must remind him of, the most important thing in your life. He too has something important to say, and you giggle when you both realise you’re saying the same thing at the same time.

“I love you.”

[soft-persephone]

Summertime Firsts

E // MDNI // WC: 1.9k // smut, oral, semi exhibition kink, nothing too crazy //more Terry // masterlist //

AN: // prequal to my previous Terry fic. A semi origin story of sorts

The first time you got on your knees for Terry, you were anxious. 

Most guys had an expectation of how things would go when girls do this sort of thing and you were somewhat on the more controversial side. 

Sometimes there was an opportunity that would prevent itself to talk about it at the beginning of your relationship, and other times you might hide it for as long as you can or hopefully or pretend your way through it, especially if you knew from the jump you weren’t going to be spending any memorable time with them.

But Terry was your maybe forever guy. You could feel it in your toes all the way to the tips of your ears. 

It’s barely been a month, but you want him around as long as possible. 

“You sure you wanna do this?” He hummed rich and lowly at you. His stormy multicolored eyes swirled into dark hues of grey as he regarded you.

There was only so much time. 

You both were secluded to the semi private corner of shade in your best friend's backyard, Hiding from the cruel unbearing judgment  of the sun as  its invisible heat carried out its silent punishment. The evidence of it was making your clothes stick to your skin, and the dark ring of perspiration that steadily grew on Terry’s shirt around his neck, trickling down his chest as the heat urged to swallow you in the guilt of your malfeasance. 

You clenched your thighs together and suppressed a moan from bubbling its way up your throat, fighting to stay still and quiet, desperate to be good. 

You didn’t know which was worse, the absolute damning way he was looking at you or the sight of his long thick dick in his equally large hands. 

“Ye–”

“I didn’t say you could speak.”

Your tongue darted along your parted lips, the heat was heavy on  your pores. Beads of sweat trickled down your brow, you could feel a drop threatening to fall into your eyes. 

You wanted to wipe a hand across your forehead, but you were frozen. 

Who’s wrath would you succumb to first, the sun’s or Terry’s?

“I’m kidding.” He smirked, flashing his teeth in a  big gummy smile. The action flooded you with a scorching desire, adding to the heat  in the air that willed consume you. What smile that used to fill you with a comforting warmth, now fanned the flames of the unbearable heat that seared every fiber of your mortal being. 

“Come here,” he murmured, sliding his hand to the back of your neck, but you were ahead of him, already moving. 

Fighting back against your nerves, the unbearable heat, Terry’s gaze, you flatten your tongue, taking as much of him as you can in your mouth. You let your hand wrap around the rest, slowly pumping him up and down as you lathe your tongue at the underside of his dick before hollowing your cheeks.

Your glasses fogged, a travesty. 

He was thick and pretty, and you wanted to see all of it.

You bobbed your head slowly, trying to find a way to temper the heat between you, but between how hot his dick was and the heat of your own mouth adding to the budding flame you both were igiting, they fogged worse. 

“Fuck, baby.” His grip on you slackened and he slumped in his seat, causing the tip to hit the back of your throat. 

You made a muffled throaty sound, and he moaned.

You moved your head back, attempting to slide off after the shock, but Terry’s hand tightened on your neck. 

When did he put his hand back on your neck?

“No,” it was a mix between a demand and a plea, “keep goin’.”

Breathing through your nose, you sucked more of him in, so his tip could hit the back of your throat. You bobbed your head slowly. His dick felt heavenly as it slid up and down your throat. Drool, pooled in your mouth, sliding past your lips and down your face, getting all over his dick, his precum not too far behind, putting up quite the competition with your spit.

The sounds of your mouth on his dick grew sloppy and sloppier, but you didn't stop.

“Ah ah. . .” Terry Hissed, “fuck, wait. . .”

You slid off of him with a drawn out slip, unintentional, but he was in too much of a trance to notice. 

“Why’d you stop?” he attempted to scold you, but it came off petulant. 

One hand was strewn across his chest, the other hanging lazily off the edge of the porch chair he was sitting in. His dicked bobbed against hislowly belly, leaking with precum and tinged an angry desperate red. 

You put your glasses on your forehead.

“I couldn't see how pretty you are.”

He rolled his jaw before tightening it and smacking his teeth.

He muttered. It was too low for you to understand. 

“I’m sorry, what was that?” you leaned in closer, batting your lashes at him innocently as you let your words brush against the sensitive sin of his dick. It bobbed underneath your ministrations.

His gaze didn't change, but you noticed how he dragged a tongue across his lips and swallowed. 

“Put them back on,” he leaned forward, brushing his hand against your cheek, caressing your skin softly with his thumb.

He placed his hand underneath your chin, squeezing hard to make his point. 

Your chest rose and fell heavily as you brought your hands to the handles of your frames and slipped them back onto your face.

“Now, open that mouth back up.” He grabbed himself at the base and tapped the side of your face with it.

You were already opening your mouth for him, but apparently that  wasn’t enough for him. He tightened his grip on your jaw even more as he pushed himself past your lips, pulling your face against him until your nose tickled the hair at the base of his dick. 

He set a rigid pace as he fucked your face. 

“Why’d you go and have to make things hard?” he chided lowly. 

You looked up, whining around his dick because you couldn’t see his face. You couldn’t get a glimpse of his eyes as they surged through a storm of different colors, clouded with the heat of his desire. 

“You pretend to be a brat , but you couldn’t be more of the opposite.” he hummed.

You moaned, breathing through your nose as he wouldn't let up.

“You take. me. so. Well.” he punctuated his words with a harsh thrust into your throat. You squeezed around him, lightly gagging with each one.

“Fuck, I’m close.”

He pulled off, The sound was loud and wet as he dragged himself out of your throat and back to whatever could fit in your mouth. 

With one low drone out moan, he was spilling into your mouth. 

Burning, hot, thick, and wet.

“You did so good for me. You're amazing. Such a good girl.” Terry washed you with praise, but you couldn’t really hear him. 

Too confused on what to do with the cum in your mouth, the sun overwhelming, and the taste on your tongue foreign. 

You were at the housewarming of your bestfriend and her husband. Not, her boo thang as he was once formerly dubbed. 

With a quick thought, you  stretched your body over the edge of the porch and let the hot sticky substance fall from your mouth, spitting out as much as you could,

You rolled your tongue around your mouth, fighting down the taste of the rest of it that lingered in your mouth.

Maybe you’ll get used to it, but today was not one of those days. 

Taking off your glasses, you attempted to clean them with your shirt with the parts that weren’t damp from the heat.

Now clean you turned your attention back to Terry who was suspiciously quiet. 

His usual confident swagger was nowhere to be found.

His eyebrows were wound tight on his forehead, his bottom lip poking out at a dangerously pouty level, his eyes a green and wide with shock that border line horror.

“Is there something wrong with it? Do I need to go see a doctor?” He started worriedly, “does it taste weird?”

“Oh, Terry!” You rushed up to sit beside him. “No. . . no. . ., No,” you paused searching for the right words, but the longer you sat in silence the more he seemed to freak out.”

You wanted to avoid this conversation for as long as possible, so you’d know what to say once the time comes, but the truth is you were never going to figure out what to say. 

“I just. . don’t really. . do that.”

“You mean swallow?!” He looked at you incredulously.

You cringed at hearing him say it out loud.

You exhaled. “I haven't done this for that many guys and a few times I can spit it out without them looking, and then the other’s didn’t really care. Those relationships didn’t last that long either, so its not something that’t high on the list of things to change or get over or whatever the fuck.” You sighed again, “it's not a big deal.”

“Well. . .” Terry started in his low velvet tone, “it's important to me.” he ended surely, looking you in the eye.

“It's important?!” 

“Yes, it is.” he said seriously, not at all put off by your outburst as he apparently opened up to you about something important to him and how you were being somewhat dismissive of his vulnerability.

“He pulled a handkerchief out of long forgotten and  since thrown off, linen suit jacket and wiped at your face, occasionally dipping it into a glass of water as he cleaned you up.

“I respect your. . .feelings and. . . experience,” He said tactfully, but there are better ways to bring it up than to spit it out in front of me like you did.” he sighed and adjusted your glasses back properly once your face was clean, “ir hurts my feelings.”

You closed your eyes. 

This could not be real.

“I’m. . sorry if I hurt your feelings.” you opened our eyes, ignoring the anxious urge to roll them and make a joke because it wouldn’t get rid of the tension in any way and just make things worse.

You mutter under your breath how it's usually a dark room in your room for the  first time and he probably never would have noticed if he would have just waited until you were both home. 

Terry narrowed his eyes, letting the comment slide. 

“Look, it's fine.” He said with finality, giving you pause.

You look at him, really look at him.

He brought a hand to your face, caressing your cheek randomly, letting his thumb nick at the corner of your mouth.

“I’ll get you to do it one day.” he said wistfully, his eyes swirling into hues of a blue grey as he looked at you, but not really at you. 

“Terry?” you squinted, blinking. 

“. . .whether you like it or not.” his voice trailed off.

[giulliadella]

This meme was made to compensate everyone who sustained emotional damage from reading my fanfic. I'm so sorry, guys, hope you like it.

Also, if you haven't read my fic, here it is:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/61747903?view_full_work=true

[froggywritesstuff]

fizzarolli & asmodeus dating hc's

ship/pairing: Fizzarolli x Asmodeus x male!bodyguard!reader (though there's not much talk of the reader's gender)

request: anon: Would it be okay to have an asmodeus x fizzarolli x Male bodyguard reader, I just want some fluff Headcanons like how the relationship would be like.

warnings: mentions of sex, mentions of feeling insecure, swearing, maybe ooc, not proofread

A/N: thank you for requesting! i originally only started writing this for fizzarolli because i didn't know enough about asmodeus, but after watching the new episode i decided to edit it for asmodeus as well. hope you enjoy!

they constantly flirt with you 

what’s the point of having a cute bodyguard with you if you’re not gonna try flirt with them occasionally 

if occasionally meant almost every five seconds of every day

they fucking love how flustered you look after they compliment you or makes a flirty remark 

they both especially love how you try (and fail) to stay professional 

fizzarolli's flirting is definitely more crude, while asmodeos is still lewd, but more sensual

overtime their flirting gets more personal

fizzarolli isn't used to someone caring about his safety and well-being like you do, so he truly starts to appreciate your company very soon, and he makes sure to let you know it 

if you tell them you enjoy their company and being around them, they get a thousand times more flirty and clingy with you

even though your job is to literally bodyguard him, asmodeus gets really protective over you

checks if you and fizz are ok like a thousand times after coming home from a day out

he knows you can protect yourself, but if he hears someone talking shit about you behind your back or to your face, he's gonna fuck them up.

now obviously they both adore seeing you flustered around them

but when you spring into action and fight off some random imp that was harassing one of them

different reactions from each, but generally speaking, they're down bAD 

even more than they usually are

as well as it being a huge turn on for fizz, he feels his heart just explode

he doesn’t often see you so strong and protective of him, so when he does it’s like he’s in a trance and can never look away

if you use that opportunity to flirt with him, he's gonna be putty in your hands

being his bodyguard, you don't flirt with him that often so when you do he goes bright red, and turns to a flustered, stuttering mess

asmodeus mainly finds it hot

after confirming that you're not hurt and you're safe, he'll definitely flirt with you 

gets super physical as well, even if you're in public and lots of people can see you 

though he tries to hide it, fizzarolli gets really insecure about your relationship, and thinks you're just faking your feelings since you were hired to be his and asmodeus's bodyguard

it takes a long time for him to actually be vulnerable with you and talk about his feelings

it's a big moment for him so do not try to downplay his feelings or dismiss him

if you ever need to talk about your feelings, or literally anything, asmodeus is definitely the best demon for that

you can rant for hours and he'll stay beside you, nodding and intently listening, chiming in when necessary 

fizzarolli definitely isn't the best listener in hell, but he really makes an effort for you

puts in 110% effort to listen to you and make sure you feel listened to

a lot of the time if you're ranting about something he definitely joins in, and you two have hour long conversations

they're both super supportive of you in whatever you do

and if you're ever feeling insecure about yourself, they're so quick to shut it down and shower you with compliments

[brattattack63]

Is This Off The Record? — Quinn Hughes⁴³

Masterlist

Pairing: Quinn Hughes x fem!reader

Summary: Y/n gets a job as a rinkside reporter for the Vancouver Canucks, befriending many of the roster members, but one player (who just so happens to wear the C on his chest) is rather against the idea of becoming friends with the girl.

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

[miffysrkv]

"Even If It’s Just for Tonight"

Pairing: Naruto Uzumaki × Uchiha!Reader

Setting: Naruto Shippuden Era (Post-Time Skip) Tone: Tension-laced, heavy with emotion, forbidden sweetness, canon-divergent lean Themes: guilt, longing, soft yearning, angst, soft smut (non-explicit), found-then-lost

He sensed you the second your foot landed on the small metal beam outside his window.

With his window wide open, you could have killed him. But there was no such intent. Just a shadow of something familiar. Something warm. Something lost.

“…Y/n?”, Naruto called out, voice low, tired.

You were there, crouched in the moonlight, hair longer now, eyes still Uchiha-dark, a cloak clinging to your form like a secret. The same chakra signature that once danced beside him on missions now pressed against the threshold of his window

“I’m here,” you murmured.

“..is this real?.”

That made your lips turn up, not in a full smile but something of the sort.

You didn’t utter the words of ‘sorry for the intrusion’.

You simply slipped inside.

He sat up cross-legged on his bed, hair messy from sleep. You observed his room; scrolls were scattered around him, a half-eaten cup of instant Ramen forgotten on the floor as he watched you move

“You always were a slob.”

“You always left before you had to help clean up,” he shot back, but it lacked heat.

“You shouldn’t be here.”

“I know.”

He stood slowly, uncertain, as if blinking might make you disappear again.

Your eyes met.

You both said nothing for a long time.

He didn’t ask about your brother. He didn’t ask what you’d seen on the other side of loyalty, or how many scars you were hiding under that cloak. You didn’t ask why he still waited—still trained, still fought.

Because none of that mattered, not tonight.

“I had to see you,” you spoke softly.

Naruto swallowed. “You’re seeing me.”

You stepped closer.

“I needed to.. really, see you.”

The silence between you vibrated, aching and fragile.

“…for how long?” he whispered.

“Til dawn.”

You expected him to break then. To be angry with you. To ask why you only came when you were ready to vanish again. But he just nodded—quietly, like a boy who had learned how to live with your reasoning and accept the heartbreak.

His hand reached for yours before his words could.

Your fingers brushed and curled, and it felt like stepping into a memory, into something half-alive and burning beneath your skin.

You sat down beside him, your knees touching, breathing slow.

“Tell me something real,” he said.

You looked away.

Then: “I dream of home sometimes. Not Konoha. Just… the smell of roasted sweet potatoes. Your stupid jokes. The way the sunlight looked shining through the window and they way it made you look radiant as we laid next to each other.”

He stared at you like the past was standing in front of him.

You continued. “I hate myself for leaving. Not because I regret it. But because… you’ve waited, all this time”

He shook his head. “it was worth it.”

“what was?”

“you.”

You leaned in first.

He barely flinched.

Your lips brushed against as if speaking an apology.

Like a thank you.

Like a goodbye.

But when you kissed him again, it wasn’t soft.

It was three years of silence crashing into one impossible moment. Teeth. Tongues. Shaky breaths. His fingers slid through your onyx colored tresses as his other held your waist, your own fingers tugging at his jacket, and every press of his mouth against yours felt like a desperate prayer to a god neither of you believed in.

He tasted like Ramen and loss and everything you should have forced yourself to stay away from.

But you didn’t stop.

Not when he crawled on top of you, gently pushing you back so you were now laid on top of the white sheets of his small bed.

Not when your hands slid under his shirt, caressing the new muscles that formed over the years.

Not when he moaned your name into your mouth, low and broken.

“Please,” he whispered, kissing your jaw, your neck, your collarbone. “Don’t leave me again.”

You did stop then.

Breathing hard, heart wild, your hand coming up to press itself against his chest to stop him. to stop yourself.

“Don’t ask me that.”

He trembled, brows furrowing. “Why not?”

“Because if you do…” Your voice cracked. “I might say yes.”

His hand found yours again, his grip tight. “So say it.”

“I can’t.” And then a quieter: “Not yet.”

The heat didn’t fade, but it cooled—settling into something sad and bittersweet.

You crawled into bed beside him, still clothed, back against his chest as his arm wrapped around your waist like he was afraid you’d vanish into smoke. He didn’t sleep. Neither did you.

You just stayed.

Breathed.

Remembered what it was like to be whole.

It was then when both your breaths leveled, you both allowed yourselves a few hours of peace

—

When the light cracked through the window, you sat up quietly.

He did too.

“There’s no convincing you to stay.”

You smiled, and this time it broke something in you.

“Until next time.”

You stood up to move yourself in between his legs, cupping his face delicately before kissing him once more, slow, soft, like sealing a memory and a promise all in one.

Then, without another word, you were gone.

The scent of of you remained on his pillow The ache in his chest still lingered while the world moved around outside. You left him with hope that maybe—just maybe—you’d find your way back home again.

[darklove9314-blog]

I See You: An Elucien Fanfic

Elain week Day 4: Seeing and Unseeing

After Azriel rejects her on Solstice night, Lucien finds a distraught Elain, leading him to comfort her.

Ever since Elain Archeron had been thrown into the cauldron she had felt her fate be forever sealed. The luck she had accumulated throughout her lifetime had suddenly run dry as if she had been well that had suddenly lacked water. And she blamed it all on that Gods damned cauldron.

As soon as her foot had hit that water, it had felt it suck every bit of good fortune she had accumulated. Her life, her betrothal, everything. She had lost everything. Perhaps she should not have gambled with her luck when she had everything to lose.

First it had been her mortal life. One that she had cherished. Feyre had grown accustomed to this life, thrived in it even, and Nesta-while Nesta still struggled to accept her life as fae, Elain had always thought Nesta had never been meant to be human, but she had.

Elain had enjoyed her mundane existence, had loved the simple things in life that made it worth living and when that had been ripped away from her, she felt as if she had nothing left to live for.

She had bounced back, slowly but surely, placing her time into mundane things that centered her and made her feel more human. She had started baking and helping in the kitchen with the twins, wanting to feel useful.

She knew that fae did not like to bother faith food preparation, perhaps that was why she had taken a liking to it. Had found a small bit of enjoyment in it even if the others had no clue why.

Then after the loss of her mortal existence, she had lost Greyson. Had felt that loss when the cauldron had shackled her to Lucien Vanserra. Perhaps it was not fair to blame him. After all her being fae had thrown a wrench into her life plans with Greysonn, not him, but she couldn’t help but feel bitter and resentful.

When she had lost her betrothed she had lost everything that had connected her to her human life. Sure there had still been her father, but she had felt as if his reaction would’ve been the same as Greyson’s

Then-then when the King had taken her father from her, he had severed whatever meager connection she had had to the human world.

She had mourned not only the loss of him but what was left of her human life as well. She found herself lost, without any thing to anchor her to reality.

Perhaps that was why when Azriel had shown a monochrome of interest in her she had clung to it as hard as she could.

She had met him when she was still human, when she could still connect with her humanity. Sure she had had no interest in him back then seeing as how she was an engaged female and had little interest for any other male besides Greyson back then, but when she had lost Greyson, had lost that kind of connection, she had clung to the next best thing.

Sure Azriel was different than human males, but she could at least pretend he was human, no matter how wrong that might have seemed, but he at least let her be content with her fantasies of him.

Perhaps that is how she had found herself here. In a darkened hallway with her lips mere inches from his own.

She knew it was wrong, knew that her mate had slept soundly upstairs without an inkling of what was transpiring downstairs between the two, but she just couldn’t help herself. This was the first thing in a long time that she desperately wanted to take for herself, and while she had always cared if her actions hurt a person, she could’ve cared less if this kiss would hurt him. After all it wasn’t as if he cared about what happened to her to begin with. He had proven as much.

She eagerly awaited the shadow singers lips, yearning for that physical connection to make her feel like anything besides who she was, when suddenly he pulled away and she could feel the weight of his presence vanishing as if he were no more than a ghost.

“This was a mistake.” He suddenly said as her eyes opened, hurt encompassing her as she glanced at him without masking her emotions.

“I’m sorry.” She apologized, wondering if she had misinterpreted the signs. Had she been too abrupt and forthcoming with her desire of him. She wondered if she had perceived him to feel more for her than she had originally thought. She seemed to be doing that a lot as of late.

“You don’t-don’t apologize. Never apologize. It’s I who should-“

She glanced at him, her heart feeling heavy. Had he stopped because he had remembered her having a mate. Had the mating bond taken this from her too?

“Goodnight.”

Her lips parted, ready to stop him and confront him about why he had stopped when he winnowed away.

She blew out a breath, shaking her head as she turned towards the steps ready to retrieve back to her room so she could sleep for the night, but something stopped her midway to her room.

She deserved an explanation. Deserved to know what had happened as she pivoted and walked towards Azriel’s room, stopping at her brother in laws office when she heard Azriel and Rhys’s voice discussing something inside. What the hell was this about?

Elain knew it was wrong, knew she shouldn’t have ease-dropped on their private conversation, but her curiosity got the best of her this time.

She leaned her ear to the door hearing bits and pieces of their conversation.

“Including her mate!”

Lucien? Why were they discussing Lucien?

“What if the cauldron was wrong?” Azriel inquired making Elain’s stomach plummet. What the hell was he talking about?

“What of Mor, Az?”

Mor? What has more had to do with this conversation. She knew they had history together, but had Mor meant something more to Azriel than she had realized?

“The cauldron chose three sisters. Tell me how it’s possible that my two brothers are with two of the three sisters, yet the third was given to another.”

She swore the world paused when she took in his words. The meaning of them.

“You believe you deserve to be her mate?” Rhys questioned. She wondered the answer as well.

“I think Lucien will never be good enough for her, and she has no interest in him anyway.”

She couldn’t bare to hear another second of this conversation as she stepped away from the door, hot tears pricking her vision as she rushed to her room.

She was nearly to her room when she paused, sliding down the frame of her door as she clutched the necklace he had given to her mere minutes ago in her hand.

Was that why he had pursued her in the first place? Not because he believed they had a genuine connection, but because her sisters had been mated to Cassian and Rhys.

She cursed the Gods damned cauldron. Cursed it for taking yet another connection she had assumed was real and not crafted by its hand.

Even if Azriel was wrong, the fact that he thought their connection was solely based off the cauldron was a betrayal she had never assumed would hurt her as much.

She drew her knees to herself, resting her head there as she let the tears fall. She didn’t know why she had assumed his feelings for her had been something more.

Despite the fact that Elain had always prided herself on being observant, there was always things she had been off about. Peoples feelings for her being one of them. When the hell would she learn?

“Elain?”

She gasped, not realizing that she was no longer alone as she lifted her head up, glancing at none other than Lucien himself. The Mother really did have a twisted sense of humor.

“What are you doing up so late?” She inquired, sniffling and trying to wipe away her tears.

“I could ask you the same question.”

She fixed a glare on him,

“I asked you first.”

“Fair enough. I couldn’t sleep.”

He brows lifted,

“How come?”

“I-I sometimes have night terrors. Sometimes they’re so terrible it keeps me awake at night. I thought taking a walk might help me go back to sleep.”

She understood that feeling all too well. She herself had been plagued with night terrors from an early age as well. And lately, well lately they had been especially heinous.

“Is there a reason you’re up?” He asked again, taking a good look at her, “and is there a reason you’re crying.”

“I don’t think you really want to know.” Elain answered, wiping away her left over tears as he cocked his head to the side.

“Is it about Azriel?”

She sucked in a breath,

“How did you know-“

“About you and him?” Lucien shrugged, “I’m a more observant male than you think.”

Shane overcame her, every bit of guilt she had tried to suppress suddenly flooding back to the surface.

“Lucien, I’m so sorry. I never meant-“

He held his hand up,

“You don’t have to apologize. Believe it or not, I understand.”

She blinked, surprise washing over her.

“You do?” She inquired as Lucien took a step towards her, gesturing beside her.

“May I?”

She shrugged as he slid down next to her, careful to give them both enough space so he would not touch her, so he would not make her uncomfortable. She could claim a lot of things about Lucien, but it was obvious to her that he had been raised to be a gentlemale through and through.

“You may not believe this, but before I realized that you were my mate, I was in love with another.”

She sucked in a breath, she knew realistically that it had always been likely that Lucien had previous lovers, bond or no bond, one could not last an eternity without at least attempting to find connection with others. Even humans were incapable of it and they didn’t live nearly as many lifetimes.

“What was her name?”

A hint of a smile played over Lucien’s lips as if he were recalling fond memories of the female he had been in love with,

“Jesminda.”

Curiosity cropped up within her again,

“What was she like?”

She knew it was none of her business, knew that he may not have wanted to talk about it, especially not with her, surprisingly he did not mind as he answered.

“She was wild and adventurous. Otherworldly in more ways than one. She wasn’t afraid to be mischievous either, sometimes it threw the people of the country she had grown up with off center as if she belonged somewhere else.”

Elain felt a hint of a smile play over her lips,

“I get the feeling.”

Lucien glanced at her, curious,

“What’s that look for?” She asked, lifting one eyebrow.

“Nothing, I just-“

“Just what?”

He looked at her, really looked at her as he continued,

“I just never pegged you as someone who was the adventurous type. You strike me as the type who likes to settle down and make roots.”

“Can I not long for both?” She inquired as Lucien shrugged.

“I guess not. It makes sense actually considering your father’s occupation.”

A sharpness tugged at her heart as Lucien realized what he had just said,

“I’m sorry. I did not mean to bring up-“

“No. It’s okay. Sometimes it’s nice to talk about him. I feel like everyone avoids talking to me about him either because of their own grief or they’re afraid to trigger my own.”

“Did he ever take you in any of his adventures?” He inquired as she spared a glance at him,

“No. My mother always forbid him to, but he did bring me back gifts so I could feel like I was apart of the adventure.”

“Perhaps one day you will go in your own adventure.” Lucien provided making Elain but on her lip. With how her sisters and everyone she surrounded herself with treated her like she was an eggshell ready to crack, she sincerely doubted an adventure was in the cards for her for quite awhile.

“Perhaps.” Was all she said, letting the word hang between them as she changed the subject back to Jesminda.

“What ever happened to her? Do you still talk?”

A look of grief and sadness crossed Lucien’s face, cutting so deep Elain could have sworn it had matched her own.

“She died a long time ago.”

She glanced at him, the memory of when he had told her she was his mate still fresh in his mind, how now that she played the memory back with this information, she could see how his reaction had not been out of staking his claim on her, but rather in grief as if he had been mourning this loss of that love as she had with her love for Greyson.

“Did you suspect- Did you think she was your mate?”

He nodded as if saying the words would have been a sort of betrayal to her. Something tugged at her heart at the thought.

“It must have been devastating….to find out that the female you loved was not your mate and rather….rather than have someone you love be mates to you…it was someone who-“

“Who wants nothing to do with me.” He guessed as she whispered,

“Yes.”

Lucien considered,

“I-I have to think it was for a reason.”

“Lucien-“

“Let me finish.” He pleaded as she waited.

“I think it’s better to have loved than to not have loved at all. To experience what loving her was like before she slipped from my grasp. I think back to how I was the only love she would ever experience and for me that’s enough. And just because you are my mate it doesn’t mean that my love for her wasn’t any less real. That what we had was nothing in comparison. I know-“ he took a deep breath.

“I know that this has not been easy for you, that I was thrown at you like you were thrown at me. And it wouldn’t be fair of me-it wouldn’t be fair to you to keep you shackled to me if you did not feel the same way. That is why whatever is happening with Azriel, whether it is real or not, I can endure it as long as I know you were happy.”

She looked at him, really looked at him, as if she were seeing him for the first time. Whether she wanted to admit it or not, there was something she had in common with Lucien Vanserra, the understanding that sometimes you had to let a person go in order for them and yourself to be happy. And perhaps, perhaps this was exactly what she needed to hear.

She didn’t know why she had done, couldn’t even begin to explain it to herself, but she lurched forward, throwing her arms around him and catching him unaware.

“Thank you.” She whispered as she felt his strong hands wrap around her.

They sat there in silence, Lucien waiting for Elain to unwrap her arms from around him before she sat back, both of them standing up as Elain said,

“I should get back to bed.”

Lucien nodded, waiting for her to turn the knob of her door before he called her name, she stopped, turning back to face him as he said,

“For what it’s worth, whatever is going on between you and Azriel, I have faith that you’ll figure it out.”

“Lucien!” She called out before he retreated, he turned back towards her, his eyes meeting hers as she asked,

“Why the pearls?”

“I-well to be perfectly honest, I notice you wearing them when I visit or during special occasions. I thought you could find use for them.”

She glanced down at her hands, to where her engagement ring had been months before, she had just recently found the courage to take it off. Greyson had noted her love for pearls too.

“I didn’t know that you noticed me so much.” Elain answered, making it sound as if there a joke to hide what she was truly feeling.

“I always notice you, Elain Archeron. You’re hard not to notice.”

She opened her mouth, trying to say something, anything, bur she soon found out that she did not have the words.

“Goodnight.” She answered, hurriedly making her way into her room before she heard his answer, waiting for his retrieving footsteps to vanish before she grasped the necklace around her throat as if it would provide her with some sort of clarity.

She walked towards her mirror, glancing at herself in it. The girl that no one saw at least not really, except-Lucien had saw and he had taken notice of what she had needed even if it wasn’t himself.

She had thought Azriel would be the same way, but-

Elain shook her head, unclasping the rose necklace from around her neck, realizing she could not accept this, because to accept this necklace was to accept Azriel and- and it was not fair to accept someone if you had any doubt of who they were.

She grabbed the box the necklace had came in out of her pocket, gently placing it back inside as she made her way back downstairs, locating Azriel’s gifts in the pile as she gently placed the necklace back.

She had expected to feel remorseful. To have some sort of doubt, but the moment she had placed the necklace in the pile she had felt-relief. Like for the first time in a while she was letting go of the things she could not control. And for once she felt….happy. Like a flower that had finally bloomed after a long winter without sunshine.

Perhaps things did not have to be as complicated as she originally thought, perhaps she could simply just exist, and perhaps, for once, that could be enough.

The light of the early dawn shine through the windows as she embraced the light of day, smiling soundlessly as she made her way back upstairs to embrace another day.

@elainweekofficial

[marlboroonice]

EXCERPT FROM RECENT CHAPTER: 

“Potter,” Regulus’s voice carries across the Lake from a few yards away, arms out and waiting expectantly.

“Regulus just caught sight of the Snitch and is going after it. He’s gone right through here.” He points at the space beside him and tosses the Quaffle, grinning from ear to ear in anticipation. “Better get moving.”

Regulus doesn’t waste a second. He darts down the length of the Lake, his broom slicing cleanly through the air as the water ripples beneath him in his wake. Just as he closes in, James adjusts his position, shifting to the side at the last second. As expected, Regulus reacts instinctively, executing the Corkscrew maneuver James had taught him weeks earlier—a tight, twisting dive that lets him slip into the empty space James vacates.

But James isn’t done testing him. As Regulus pulls out of the maneuver, preparing to regain momentum, James surges to the other side and slams his shoulder into Regulus’s side. The impact nearly sends Regulus careening off his broom and into the icy water below.

“Fuck—!” Regulus lets out an aborted shout, his arms flailing as he struggles to steady himself. James grabs him around the waist just in time, hauling him upright before gravity can claim him.

“Steady on,” James quips, keeping the both of them steady with practiced ease. “Nice try. Regulus Black just caught the Snitch and won the match for his house—imagine a Bludger to the head right about now.” He clicks his tongue theatrically. “Ouch.”

“Fuck you,” Regulus clings to James’s shirt with one hand, his grip desperate. His other hand is locked around the broomstick, knuckles bone-white.

James laughs, leaning in close. “And I have a name.” He lets Regulus go with a gentle shove, grinning as the boy huffs indignantly. “Again,” he commands, gesturing for Regulus to reset.

[hiddenlife-manager]

i dont know if you do driver x driver x reader, if you do then maybe oscar x logan x reader? if you dont then just logan x reader is good. i dont really have a good idea for smut but if youre up for it there could be some oral sex, choking, possessiveness, and degradation? ima gonna be honest its been a hot minute since ive read your smut so id theres something in my request youre not comfortable with, my apologies!

Logan Sargeant X Reader X Oscar Piastri

cw... anal, double penetration, not edited, cumshot, kissing with cum, hair pulling, slight dom, slight hinting to the two of them being into each other, gagging, blow job, oral, jealousy, timeskip, plot and porn, etc...

notepad... HIYA! Second post of the day. Honestly speaking I enjoyed this. But i probably could have spent more time on it. Either way I had fun.

There were only a few things Logan Sargeant had that Oscar Piastri didn’t. He hated to admit it, but it was true that Oscar was the better rookie and the better driver. He had things that Logan didn't, but he had one thing—the only thing Oscar couldn’t have and wanted more than anything. He had you. You were his trophy, the girl the two of them fought for in the Perma days. There was no hate between the two of them, still being the closest of friends, but Oscar could never help but be filled with jealousy each time he saw you with Logan. He was the better match for you, yet you chose Logan. 

It was the Miami Grand Prix; you were there supporting Logan after a disappointing week. Oscar certainly had a bad week, but compared to Logan, it was a hundred times better. He couldn’t help looking at you talking to Logan, walking hand in hand. He wanted what Logan had; it was selfish; you were happy; his friend was happy; he knew it was wrong. 

“Hey Oscar!” He heard Logan's voice call him out, it stunned him. He looked up, seeing him walk up with you. You waved to him, clearly unaware of his feelings.

“Oscar, you look great; how long has it been?” You asked, letting go of Logan's hand, hugging the tall man. Leaving him confused for a moment, he slowly raised his arms to hug you back. It had been sometimes since he felt your touch that all the feelings he felt became stronger than ever. 

“Likewise, are you two still together?” He asked if it was true that you were never in the media and were also never posted about. You nodded. Logan grabbed her hand and pulled her away. 

“Stronger than ever. Oscar, do you want to join us for dinner at my place? Like before, this time at my own home.” Logan asked him rather quickly. Oscar was unsure of how to respond. After spending an entire night with you and Logann being in love, It sounded like hell, yet he missed you, the sound of your laughs, or the way you talked. It was a tough decision; it felt like hours passed while the two waited for his answer. 

“Like old times.” 

“Ah~” You mumbled your head back, your legs being pushed while Logan’s mouth sucked at your clit. How did Oscar get here? Watching his friend eat out the girl he wanted. He could have left, but he stayed. Your moans sound so sweet, like honey to him. He watched Logan suck your clit almost as if he were making out with your pussy. You were clearly close to orgasming, your words becoming less coherent. He heard the low voice of Logan. 

“You’re our guest, Oscar; I know you want to.” Logan stood up, looking at him with your juices on his lips. Logan knew him too well. Oscar walked over to you and him. Logan sighed, seeing your panting face cumming just by his mouth. “You are my friend, but do know I am possessive of her. Don’t leave a mark on her Oscar, or I might not be able to forgive you for it.” 

Oscar nodded; it seemed like all that Logan told him went through one ear and out the other. Logan sighed, climbing on the bed right behind you, hauling your panting body up. He used his chest to support your back, putting you right at the edge of the bed for Oscar. His other hands spread your legs wide. 

“You want me to?” Logan rolled his eyes, taking one hand away from you and tossing a condom for Oscar to catch. He hated it because he was acting so inexperienced in front of you. He held the condom, opening it while pulling his cock out and putting the protection on properly. 

“Pick a hole, ass or pussy?” 

“I know you, Logan; you pick.” Logan smiled upon hearing Oscar say such a thing. He was caressing your cheek, flipping you over, and having you on all four. 

“I say surprise her. You dreamed of this, so do what you want for once.” Oscar knew Logan's kind heart was nothing but excited to have control over him. Logan pulled out his cock, pumping it a few times. "Besides, I have her mouth.” He shoved his cock into your mouth suddenly. Oscar began to hear the lewd sounds of your muffled gags. He groaned while doing it. He shoved his cock up your ass. It was so tight, and you were so unprepared. “You picked her ass. I’ve been training her, so she’ll be fine.” 

Logan gently placed his hands on your head, playing with your hair; cooing at you. Oscar could tell he truly cared for you. No matter what, even face-fucking you, he had a hint of gentleness. Oscar held onto your hips, bouncing you back and forth on his cock. Causing moans to be heard that were muffled by Logan's cock in your mouth. Logan thrust deep into your mouth, gagging echo into the large room. 

“Can I grab her hair?” Logan smirked, nodding to him. Oscar's hand went to your hair, pulling it back, causing a small pop when your lips left Logan's cock. Logan used the opportunity of shock from you to shove his cock once more into your beautiful mouth. Logan and Oscar found themselves moaning, both enjoying the view of you being used. Clearly, they both enjoyed it; their relationship has been a bit rocky since Logan got with you, and this was a good way to get them to fix it. 

You, on the other hand, didn’t mind it; you were being fucked in two holes and forced into a moaning mess. You loved it even when your hands got weak. They began to shake, feeling like you were about to orgasm. You knew Logan was close, his cock twitching in your mouth and his thrust being deeper than normal, making you gag even louder than before. You weren’t sure how Oscar orgasmed and were unsure if he was close or not, yet the sounds of his whimpering from how good your ass felt told you all you needed. 

The abuse of your ass and mouth continued until Logan thrust so deep it made you gag that you had to pull away while he came. Oscar grabbed your hair tightly, your mouth open, and Logan once more shoved his cock in your mouth, making you milk him dry. You were gasping for air, trying to moan, cum flowing out of your lips, unable to hold yourself up. Oscar fucked you faster; you knew he was enjoying it, but it became overwhelming for him. 

That was until he pulled you back by your hair so tight that he sat you up and came into your ass deep, filling his condom up. Leaving you moaning loudly at the feeling of his cock getting soft slowly. You were still covered in cum. Logan leaned down to you, kissing you deeply, not caring about the cum clearly on your lips. Oscar is still deep inside you; his cock is so deep that it feels better than any woman he has been with.

“We can do this again, Oscar.” Logan and Oscar were both naked, watching your sleeping body. You went right to sleep after they helped clean you up. 

“I missed you too, Logan.” They turned to each other and shook hands, firmly embracing each other in a quick hug.

[padfootagain]

Love in Verses (XLII)

Chapter 42: ‘Love in such a way, as I… love… you.’

Hi! Here is a new chapter! Some cuteness, some cuteness!!

I hope you like this chapter! Tell me what you think!

****

Pairing: Hozier x fem!reader (professor!AU)

Warnings: slow burn, angst, hurt, hurt/comfort, tooth-rotting fluff in later chapters, some scenes in later chapters will have heavy sexual themes even if it’s not explicit nsfw description, so no minors here

Summary: Your life seems perfect. You're engaged, your career is thriving as you become an assistant professor at Trinity College, and this Andrew Hozier-Byrne you're sharing an office with seems to be a nice guy you hope to call a friend soon. Life seems to be smiling at you... until everything goes sour. When your fiancé breaks up with you, your perfect world shatters. And when your colleague also gets his heart broken soon after, your shared office seems to be a curse rather than a blessing. But Andrew seems determined to mend your broken hearts... Will things finally go according to plan?

Word Count: 2761

Masterlist for the series – Hozier’s masterlist – Main masterlist

If you’re leaving, leave in such a way That no trace of you remains in my soul. If you’re staying, stay in such a way That every corner of my heart Fills and overflows with you… If you love me, love in such a way That I am awed, that, meeting your gaze, For a moment, I vanish from life itself, That I hear no whispers, Distinguish no day from night, Feel warmth in the cold of winter, And coolness in the heat of summer. Love in such a way that my heart Thunders endlessly, and no other smile Can catch my eye as I’m passing by. Love in such a way that I wake up Filled with yearning of seeing you, And when I sleep, it’s only so You will visit me in my dreams. Love in such a way that I lose my mind, Love in such a way that I become drunk… Love in such a way, as I… love… you.

Paruyr Sevak

Andrew was afraid of moving too fast again.

You and Andrew had been dating for almost a year now. You were planning a trip to Galway for your anniversary, you would be staying for two full weeks during the summer. He couldn’t wait. He couldn’t wait to have you just for himself, without work, and essays, and students, and colleagues, and family, and friends. It was a little selfish, but you both had busy lives outside your relationship, and he reckoned it would be nice to focus on just the two of you for a few days. You seemed over-excited by the trip as well. It was still several months away, but you were planning already. He had caught you looking up paths for hiking, and sights to see, and restaurants where you could eat.

You were in his bed now, in his old Thin Lizzy t-shirt and your purple pyjama pants, buried under the covers. Your head was still under the blanket, and he smiled at the sight. He could hear you breathing loudly, trying to warm up the bed.

Such a simple gesture, and yet it filled his heart with love. The joy of slipping in a bed warmed by someone else’s body…

He grabbed his book, climbed into bed. You emerged then, shuddering and immediately snuggling close to him, stealing his body heat.

He wrapped an arm around you, bringing you closer.

“It’s so cold tonight! We’re in April, it should be warmer than this!”

“The earth is burning already… let us have a bit of fresh air.”

You pinched his side, unforgiving tonight, and it made him laugh.

“I’m cold,” you complained.

“Do you want one of my hoodies?”

“No… you’re warm.”

“Leave a bit of heat for me though.”

You slipped your hand across his stomach, and then under his t-shirt, bringing your cold fingers to his burning skin. You laughed as he hissed and shifted away.

“You’re so cruel!” he complained while you put your hand back on his chest, on top of his t-shirt.

When you looked at each other, though, there was nothing but love and tenderness in your eyes and in his. He bent down to kiss your forehead, making you close your eyes.

Andrew was afraid of moving too fast again. And yet there you were, in his bed, ready for sleep. You had spent the evening together, had eaten, talked about this trip to Galway, and watched a movie. It was natural for you to stay the night. You hadn’t slept apart in months. Not a single night. It shifted between your place and his but you were always together. Every night he kissed your lips and whispered he loved you before falling asleep, and every morning he opened his eyes to see you.

And he didn’t want it any other way. He wanted this forever, all the time. Every night, every morning.

He wanted to move in with you. He wanted to build a proper home with you, the kind that Sam had always refused with him. But what if you thought it was too soon? What if you didn’t agree? What if you got scared and left him?

“Baby?”

“Hmm?”

“What’s going on? What’s your busy head thinking?”

You knew him so damn well…

He heaved a sigh.

“I’m just… worrying.”

“About what?”

“Us.”

“Us?”

“I just… I hope… I want…”

He heaved another sigh.

“Never mind…”

“Honey… is there something wrong?”

“No, no… nothing’s wrong. I… I want to ask you something, but I’m afraid you’ll say no.”

You narrowed your eyes at him.

“Is it… a weird fantasy of yours?”

He burst into laughter.

“It’s nothing sexual. And I don’t have ‘weird fantasies’!”

“I don’t know… I could suddenly discover that you have a foot fetish or something…”

“Christ! No, you’re in the clear. I don’t have a foot fetish.”

“Good, I’m reassured. I love you, but I draw the line at you wanting to lick my toes.”

He made a disgusted wince, making both of you laugh for a while, the sound warm and familiar, like home…

You grew more serious again, rubbing soothing circles into his chest.

“What is it, though? That you want to ask me?”

He took a deep breath. It was now or never anyway. God, his heart was beating a thousand miles a minute, could you feel that? Could you feel his heart under your fingers? Did you know it was yours anyway?

“I… I was thinking that we could… maybe… like… I would really like to live with you.”

You blinked up at him.

“Like… I’ve been thinking a lot about us moving in together, these past few weeks. I… I would really like that. Would you?”

Your expression was unreadable for a moment, and he thought you would reject him, he really did… just like Sam. He was the fucking problem all along…

But then your lips broke into a toothy, excited grin.

“Yeah… I’d really like that.”

He blinked, trying to gauge whether or not he had misheard you.

“Really?”

His voice was weaker than he meant for it to be, only too revealing of how vulnerable he was right now.

And he both loved and hated it, the way you seemed to read right through him, to know exactly what he was thinking. You reached up for his cheek, said exactly the right thing.

“I want you. I’m not her. I want this, all of it.”

He nodded, trying to blink tears away.

“Good… yeah… that’s grand… like… erm… yeah…”

You leaned up to shush him with your lips.

“I’d really love to live with you,” you went on with a chuckle. “I mean… we kind of already do!”

“Yeah, that’s true,” he nodded with a little laugh of his own.

“Where would you like to live?”

“Erm… I don’t know… not too far from the city, I guess.”

You were silent for a minute or so, he rubbed circles into the small of your back.

“Do you think that one day we’ll buy a house together?”

His heartbeat quickened as he stared into your eyes.

“I don’t know… we’re not there yet, are we?”

“No, no… we’re not. But… like… would you like that one day? To buy a house? Maybe with me? Can you see that happening? In like… a couple of years?”

His heart was stumbling now.

You were seeing that? You, him? A house?

A couple of years?

“Elwood would finally have a garden.”

Elwood? You, him, Elwood? A house? A garden?

A couple of years?

“Yeah,” he breathed, his voice made hoarse by emotions. “Yeah… I can see that. I’d love that.”

You nodded, grinning.

“I’d love that too.”

You were both quiet for a moment, simply enjoying each other’s presence.

“God… Andy… we’re going to need so many bookshelves…”

Andrew let out a bright laugh, and you soon joined him.

And he was so happy. So goddamn happy…

“Jon, I swear to God… if you drop this…”

“I won’t.”

“Careful with it!”

“I won’t drop it! Relax, Andy. For God’s sake…”

You chuckled, fondly shaking your head at the two bickering brothers.

“Play nice you two,” you admonished.

Behind you, Raine was carrying a small package in the kitchen.

“Listen to Y/N. Be nice.”

“I am,” they both answered at the same time.

You heard John’s cane echoing down the hall, and indeed, he was soon in the kitchen as well.

“Huh… nobody has asked the only relevant question here,” Siobhán complained. “Where the hell is the beer?”

You all laughed at her, before you fetched in your brand-new fridge for a beer.

“Is that the first thing you put in there?” Alex asked, a teasing smile on his lips.

“Obviously,” you nodded, making everybody laugh.

You handed everyone a beer, looked around at the work you had accomplished. Everyone was busy with quiet conversations, Andrew with his family, while Siobhán and Alex were catching up, as they had not seen each other since the New Year. You smiled as you looked at them laughing, getting along well, like friends already. You heard Alex arguing that they shouldn’t let so much time pass before they’d talk again, this time around. If you didn’t know Siobhán, you’d have sworn there was a blush tainting her cheeks when she agreed. But then Siobhán turned to you, talked about your flat, about the work left to do and the one already done. All your furniture was in your new home, you now had to settle in properly. There was a rather large kitchen opened on the living room, a bathroom, a bedroom, two smaller rooms that you would turn into your offices. There was a small balcony too, just large enough for a square table and a couple of chairs. Elwood loved it already. He was spying on birds, sitting on the balcony, looking up at their shapes flying off and landing on the electric cables on the other side of the street.

It was simple, but more than large enough for the two of you. It was your home, to both you and Andrew.

You reached for his hand, and he immediately intertwined your fingers together, rubbing your knuckles in a soothing gesture.

“Well, it doesn’t look too bad,” John nodded, clearly content.

“It’s a lovely flat you’ve found,” Raine nodded. “And we saw there was a park nearby, as we were driving here this morning!”

“Yeah, it’s just five minutes away. It’ll be perfect for Elwood,” you nodded.

Andrew gave your hand a tender squeeze.

Alex was talking about decorating the living room and everybody listened, except for Andrew. Instead he leant closer to you, bent down to whisper in your ear.

“We’re going to make such happy memories here. I can feel it.”

You grinned up at him.

“I can feel it too, baby.”

And you were both right.

You heaved a dramatic sigh, the pile of essays scattered across your bed. A mess of paper and pencils across the blanket.

You had a headache, you hated your life, you hated university, you hated how comfortable and inviting your pillow was…

A low chuckle made you glare as you looked up at the intruder, who was walking in your bedroom with two cups of tea in his hands, his glasses a little lopsided on his nose, wearing plaid pyjama pants and his old Thin Lizzy t-shirt.

“Someone’s getting frustrated?” he asked in his warm voice, and you couldn’t control your reaction to it. Even after all this time, you still felt the same. It made you feel peaceful, dizzy with warmth and safety.

“I hate grading papers… Why can’t we just… do research, and give classes, but without the tests and the essays and the grading?”

“Because life is hard and highly unfair.”

You stared at him as he handed you a cup of your favourite tea, done exactly the way you liked it. The warmth of the porcelain was spreading across your fingers as quickly as the sight of his smile was warming your heart. You allowed yourself to stare at him for a moment. Smiling, warm and mischievous with his teasing, hazel eyes turned fully green in the tiredness of the night, the beard you longed to feel against your skin colouring his cheeks, and his long, curly brown hair was let loose and free to fall all the way to his shoulders. You settled your gaze fondly on the freckle above his right eye, and the curve of his long eyelashes, on the pink of his lips that you constantly longed to kiss. You held out your hand, and he immediately placed his own in your hold.

And you thought about Frank. About that man you had loved, and thought you always would. How you had almost married him. How you could have missed this moment, how you could have missed loving someone as wonderful as Andrew. How the best things in life are always so fragile, always on the verge of disappearing, or not happening at all…

“You’re alright, love?” Andrew asked with a small tilt of his head, worry making him frown.

“Yeah, just frustrated and tired,” you nodded.

But he narrowed his eyes at you, and you sighed when he read right through you.

“No… there’s something else. What’s bothering you, darling?”

You took a sip of your tea before answering.

“I was just thinking… how easy it would have been for us never to be together. Isn’t that crazy? I can’t imagine my life without you in it now, and we could have never been together.”

He nodded, let go of your hand. And at first, you thought he was moving away, but he merely walked around the bed to his side, pushed the papers you still had to grade further down the bed, and slipped under the covers with you. He wrapped his arm around your shoulders, and you easily yielded when he pulled you closer.

“Hmm… a lot of things could have gone wrong,” he slowly nodded. “We could have been put in different offices, you could have accepted that job in Belfast, our crazy plan about our exes could have worked out.”

“Do you regret it sometimes? That you didn’t end up with Samantha?”

He laughed at that, surprising you with the brightness of it.

“Don’t be silly! Of course, I don’t! I’m so much happier with you than I was with her. Nah… I have no regrets. I love you way too much for that.”

You grinned up at him.

“Do you? Regret Frank?”

But you shook your head.

“You make me happier than he ever did,” you answered, burying your face in his chest, and he bent to kiss the top of your head.

He grinned into your hair.

“So… no regrets in moving in with me and everything?”

“Actually… I do have one regret.”

He pulled away just enough to look at you, growing serious again as he frowned with worry.

“You haven’t kissed me since you’ve walked in the room.”

He rolled his eyes at that, mumbling something about you giving him a proper scare, before he would lean in and kiss you, slow and deep at first, a kiss that turned passionate and urgent as his hands moved across your body.

You shifted to get closer to him, knowing where this kiss was heading, and having no intention to stop Andrew when he moved his lips from your mouth to your neck. You lost your hand in his curls, moaning as he softly bit the fragile skin over your pulse…

You were both startled as the pile of graded essays fell to the floor.

“No!”

You rushed to gather them in a new pile, groaning and mumbling under your breath. Meanwhile, Andrew was picking up the rest, and setting them aside by the bed.

“I need to finish this tonight, love,” you admonished, nodding towards the papers he had placed on the ground by his side of the bed.

“It’s almost eleven. No more work.”

“And I thought you were the one who was always working.”

“I’m always writing, not grading essays.”

“Hmm… and yet, I haven’t heard anything in a while.”

He blushed, making you smile fondly at him.

“I have a few poems ready for you, if you want,” he mumbled under his breath, growing shy and making you giggle.

“Oh! I can’t wait to read them, my love.”

He grinned at the earnestness in your answer, but still told you to discard the essays for tonight.

“I have better plans for us, like…” he quipped, wiggling his eyebrows and making you laugh, although you could still feel butterflies erupt in your stomach at the sight of his tempting stare.

“Oh, really? And how do you suppose you’re gonna convince me to drop my academic duties in favour of sinful activities?”

He grinned, something devilish and awfully charming.

“That’s the easy part, darling,” he spoke with a voice deeper and lower than his usual tone, that made your very soul tremble.

You blinked as he took off his shirt, put away his glasses. You stared at the marble skin, longed to touch it…

You struggled to swallow, and dropped the essays to the floor.

“Alright, okay, I’m convinced. Kiss me…”

He laughed; a grin on the verge of cockiness at his success forming on his lips; still, you let him have his win.

But when you gently held his lower lip between your teeth, he was the one begging for more…

[linkemon]

Beauty and the Beast (Bakugō Katsuki x Reader) 3

ʙᴀᴋᴜɢᴏ ᴋᴀᴛꜱᴜᴋɪ ʜᴀꜱ ʙᴇᴇɴ ᴄᴜʀꜱᴇᴅ ɪɴᴛᴏ ᴀ ʙᴇᴀꜱᴛ. ʟᴏᴄᴋᴇᴅ ɪɴ ᴀ ᴄᴀꜱᴛʟᴇ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴍᴀɢɪᴄᴀʟ ᴏʙᴊᴇᴄᴛꜱ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴡᴇʀᴇ ᴏɴᴄᴇ ʜɪꜱ ꜱᴜʙᴊᴇᴄᴛꜱ, ʜᴇ ꜱʟᴏᴡʟʏ ʟᴏꜱᴇꜱ ʜᴏᴘᴇ. ᴜɴᴛɪʟ ᴏɴᴇ ᴅᴀʏ, [ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ], ꜰᴇᴀʀɪɴɢ ꜰᴏʀ ʜᴇʀ ꜱɪꜱᴛᴇʀ'ꜱ ʟɪꜰᴇ ᴀɴᴅ ɪɴᴛɪᴍɪᴅᴀᴛᴇᴅ ʙʏ ᴏᴠᴇʀʜᴀᴜʟ ᴀʀʀɪᴠᴇꜱ ᴀᴛ ᴛʜᴇ ᴄᴀꜱᴛʟᴇ. ɪɴɪᴛɪᴀʟ ʀᴇʟᴜᴄᴛᴀɴᴄᴇ, ʙᴏʀɴꜱ ᴀ ꜱᴛʀᴀɴɢᴇ ꜰʀɪᴇɴᴅꜱʜɪᴘ ꜰᴜʟʟ ᴏꜰ ᴀᴅᴠᴇɴᴛᴜʀᴇꜱ, ꜰʀᴏᴍ ᴡʜɪᴄʜ ꜱᴏᴍᴇᴛʜɪɴɢ ᴍᴏʀᴇ ɢʀᴏᴡꜱ ᴏᴠᴇʀ ᴛɪᴍᴇ.

The whole series can be found here. Part 1 | 2 | 3 here | 4

When he saves your life

[Reader] stood in the dining hall, unsure of what to do. Apparently, King Katsuki had no desire to see her. She shared the sentiment. The relief she felt when he disappeared from her sight was immense.

— Come with us, dear, we’ll get you into something dry — Ochako encouraged her.

Featherduster eyed the girl’s thin clothes with concern. Water dripped from them in heavy droplets. Snow melted in the warmth of the nearby fireplace.

And so the objects paraded through the palace as a company. The only human trudged at the very back to avoid blocking their way with her height. Most of the enormous glass windows were hidden under thick curtains. Through a few, though, one could glimpse the dark sky. The storm had passed. The world was covered in white, shimmering under the moonlight.

[Reader] passed many doors. At first, she tried to memorize the path but she lost track after the seventh turn.

She studied the walls until she noticed what exactly felt off. Just like in the dining hall…

— The portraits are missing — she remarked to the staff.

— Everything that depicts people — Kirishima clarified.

He twisted his clock hands toward where statues must have once stood. Plenty of empty columns and bases remained.

— Our lord is very…— He hesitated. — How to put it… He has…

— A defect! — Denki finished proudly.

— Stop it, or he’ll hear you! — Gentle scolded him.

— And we wouldn’t want that. Oh no! — added La Brava.

— He’s just irritated by the sight of something he’s lost — Ochako concluded quietly.

[Reader] couldn’t help but notice how somber they all grew at this statement. After all, they suffered just as much as their king. It had to be cruel.

Her gaze fell on a landscape featuring a massive red dragon and a white stallion. They seemed to be fighting, though it made little sense. How could they possibly face each other? The lack of a rider stood out. The painting felt out of place compared to the others. It reminded her of what she’d left behind in the courtyard.

— My horse! — she stopped abruptly.

— We’ve taken it to the stables — the clock assured her.

[Reader] didn’t know how they’d managed it but she figured she should stop being surprised by the things around her. The mere fact that she stood alive and in one piece was a miracle. She still didn’t completely trust anyone but she had no choice but to follow her guides up the stairs.

By the time they reached the final floor, her boots were covered in dust. Thick, red carpets begged for a proper beating. The ornate wooden balustrades needed cleaning too. She sneezed the moment she touched one.

— This is my old room — Ochako headed toward a door. — I lived next to the queen so I could serve her. It was a great honour. I liked being a maid. If only Her Majesty hadn’t died…— Her voice grew sad.

Everything might have turned out differently, she thought to herself. After the queen’s death, no one could tame the prince. The king had never ruled with a strong hand. His wife had always handled difficult matters, including raising a rebellious son. His Majesty left the world of the living just weeks after her funeral. It was suspected he fell ill from grief over losing his beloved Mitsuki.

Young Bakugō didn’t show sorrow. He took the reins of the kingdom as expected. Yet the smile vanished from his face. Everywhere he went, he wore a mask of indifference. Truthfully, he cared about nothing except combat — the one thing he excelled at in life. He never had the chance to learn compassion or humility. All the values he placed on a pedestal were somehow tied to strength. He became an orphan far too young. And he could have accomplished so much — together with Midoriya. If not for him, Izuku might still be alive.

— Make yourself at home. — Featherduster wagged her tail. — It’s a bit dusty but I’ll tidy it up. You can sleep here. There should be something in the wardrobe. Her Majesty’s gowns are in better condition but we’re not allowed to touch them.

The chamber in question was sacred and untouchable. No one had the right to disturb anything there. Everything remained exactly as it had been on the day Mitsuki passed away. The enchanted objects believed Katsuki coped with her loss this way, though he didn’t want to show it.

The chandelier flared brighter than before and lit the wood in the fireplace. Flickering tongues of flame slowly consumed the logs, lighting up the room. It was nothing special — a bed, a chest, a table and chairs. The only interesting feature was a small balcony overlooking the back of the palace, offering a view of the forest.

— Should I introduce myself? — [Reader] asked.

— To whom? — came a chorus of voices.

— The wardrobe… or Lady Wardrobe? You know…— She stood before the ornate piece of furniture.

— Only we are cursed — the teapot gurgled.

— The rest are just ordinary objects — added the teacup helpfully.

The longer she listened, the more she understood that they were a duo. They went everywhere together and always finished each other’s sentences. However, they didn’t look like a matching set. The sharp red didn’t pair well with the dark purple.

— Cursed? Does that mean you can be uncursed? — the new servant asked with interest.

She received a series of unintelligible murmurs in response. The staff gathered in a circle and started a discussion. She tried eavesdropping but to no avail.

— We won’t answer that question — they finally declared in unison.

They didn’t want to lose their chance to break the spell. The feeling had to be genuine. If their hope knew the truth, it might lead to love out of pity — or worse, out of obligation. Of course, it could turn out differently but for now, they wouldn’t utter a word.

Ochako managed to deal with most of the dust and pulled a dress out of the wardrobe.

— Don’t you have any pants? — The girl took the black fabric in her hand.

A maid’s uniform. She should have expected that. It came with a white apron and decorative bows. The idea of wearing it every day didn’t appeal to her.

— Unfortunately not. Perhaps in the king’s chamber but I’d rather not ask…

— Let me help with the cloak — Denki enthusiastically waved his candles.

But he forgot to extinguish one of the wicks. The garment caught fire in an instant. Extinguishing the small blaze angered everyone. They shouted and stomped on what they could.

— My sister made this for me. — [Reader] inspected the burnt edge angrily.

Eri was a world away from here. Yet she still felt her presence in this gift. She’d collected bits of colourful threads for her sister to embroider the pattern. The multicoloured flowers seemed to dance on the gray background. She loved them far more than the expensive dresses Overhaul had made her wear.

— We’ll fix it! Like real men! — Kirishima announced. — And you should get changed.

Everyone obediently left the room, leaving the girl alone for the first time that strange day.

Reluctantly, she changed into the odd outfit. While waiting for further developments, she decided to inspect the small room. All she found were lots of sheets, a few decorative dresses moth-eaten and worn and some trinkets. The most interesting find was a hidden portrait of a young boy with extraordinary green hair. Somehow, it had survived the purge of artwork in the palace and avoided the sad fate of other pieces.

She decided not to ask. There had to be a reason someone had gone to such lengths to wrap it in rags, pack it in a box and hide it.

At some point, whispers reached her ears. She approached the door and pressed her ear against it.

—…sharpen the knives. It has to be delicious. And His Majesty likes his meat bloody…— The sentence was cut.

But she didn’t intend to find out what came next. It sounded very clear. She was playing the main course. Surely, they thought that if they behaved normally, she wouldn’t notice. There was no way, after everything she’d been through, that she’d let herself get eaten in some remote palace. Years spent in the orphanage had taught her to keep a cool head. She looked out from the balcony. She was three floors from the ground. Too high to jump but just right for a rope descent. She didn’t have one but she could make one. She began skillfully tying strips of fabric together. She threw them over the railing. She’d never climbed down from such a height before but there was a first time for everything.

She barricaded the door with a chair, hoping the makeshift construction would hold for at least a moment.

She took the first step. She avoided looking down — it was always a trap. Step by step, she descended. The cold wind tugged at her short outfit. Her hair blew wildly, obscuring her vision. She tried to move as fast as possible, swaying left and right. Blood rushed in her ears. Several times, she slipped, momentarily losing her grip. She was halfway down when she heard a shout.

— [Reader], what are you doing? — Featherduster had evidently overcome the makeshift barricade.

She sped up, feeling a sudden rush of adrenaline. Only a few meters remained. Below, part of the staff awaited her, while others peered down from above. But she knew they couldn’t stop her. At most, they’d splash her with tea.

Then, suddenly, she felt the rope elongate. The fabric of the moth-eaten old dress couldn’t handle the tension and tore away from its colourful neighbour. The girl grabbed at a protruding sandstone block.

— Damn it! — Her hand began to slip.

Then she fell. Someone caught her. Strong, heavy hands kept her upright. Her hands were scraped from sliding on the stone and she cradled them to herself. Her hair was all over her face and her ribs heaved in and out as she tried to catch her breath. Her weight shifted forward. She didn’t mean to lean against him but her legs felt like jelly. Then came the most unexpected sound.

— You idiot! — came a deep growl.

She didn’t want to believe it but it had to be him. She glanced up hesitantly. He looked different than before. His hair was untamed. His broad shoulders trembled under his heavy fur coat. But the familiar, piercing gaze was there. The corners of his mouth curled down.

He was furious.

She lifted her eyelids. Only a few centimeters separated her face from the beast’s snout. Hairy, bristly arms had caught her just in time.

— Let go of me! — she shouted, struggling to free herself.

— Be my guest — the king mocked.

She tumbled to the ground, landing in a snowdrift. Her short dress instantly soaked through and wet hair clung to her face. It felt as though her tailbone had been ripped out. She was sure she’d bruised herself badly.

— I hope you'll choke on my bones! — she snapped, pulling a knife from her boot.

It wasn’t much but she wasn’t about to let herself be eaten without a fight.

Katsuki growled, ready to strike.

—Wait, no! — his subjects cried, clutching at his legs.

— No one wants to eat you, [Reader]! — Ochako exclaimed, clearly horrified by the notion. — It’s all our fault, Your Highness! We were preparing dinner and Denki said a few poorly chosen words, and then...

She didn’t need to finish. Everyone was processing the situation. An awkward silence fell as they all tried to grasp what had just happened.

The girl felt terrible. Sure, she was here against her will but her new companions had shown her kindness and hospitality. And besides, Bakugō could have simply let her fall to her death — but he hadn’t. He’d saved her life.

She hated doing it but she forced herself to say it.

— Thank you. And I’m sorry. — She extended her hand.

The king looked at the hand before him. Much smaller than his own, far more delicate. He could have crushed it if he wanted to.

He didn’t want to admit how much his new servant impressed him. Sure, he was angry that she had tried to escape — but what a way to do it! And then, at the very end, she’d still had the nerve to draw a weapon, despite knowing she couldn’t win.

She didn’t wield a sword. She couldn’t possibly match him — neither when he was young nor now. It was a different kind of strength than the one he knew.

It made him feel strange. Was that... admiration? A feeling he hadn’t experienced in so long he’d forgotten it existed?

She did everything differently. Strangely. Just like someone else he tried so hard to forget.

He shook his head lightly, driving away those thoughts. A sly smile spread across his face as he spat on his furry paw. He fully expected her to recoil in disgust.

But to his surprise, [Reader] did the same, clasping his hand firmly.

— That’s highly unrefined — the clock remarked.

— Gross — added the chandelier.

— Don’t try that again — Bakugō growled. — Next time, I’ll let you fall. As punishment, you’ll clean the garden.

With that, he turned and left.

She didn’t care. She had plenty of places to tidy already. One more wouldn’t make a difference. She sneezed loudly. She was soaked to the bone, just as Ochako had feared. She needed to warm up, or she’d spend her first day of work bedridden with a cold.

— Tea time, right, Gentle?

— Indeed, La Brava.

[twooneztaylorthecat]

Masterlist Adam Stanheight / Reader

Fluff Stories

https://www.tumblr.com/twooneztaylorthecat/759934465606877184/fluff-adam-stanheight-reader-stories?source=share

Dark Stories

https://www.tumblr.com/twooneztaylorthecat/759935519182454784/dark-adam-stanheight-reader-stories?source=share

Smut Stories

https://www.tumblr.com/twooneztaylorthecat/759936578931081216/smut-adam-stanheight-reader-stories?source=share

Song-Inspired Stories

https://www.tumblr.com/twooneztaylorthecat/759942968607113216/song-inspired-adam-stanheight-reader-stories?source=share

Other Stories

https://www.tumblr.com/twooneztaylorthecat/759938062788788224/other-adam-stanheight-reader-stories?source=share

[mando-abs]

Dinner for One

Author's Note: Surprise @tinytinymenace ! I'm your Secret Santa. You said in your things that you like that you loved monsters and monster romances. So, I ran with that and came up with a night-in with our favorite vampire. Happy Holidays!

Word Count: 3.2k

Pairing: Max Phillips x Reader (gender non-specific, no physical descriptors)

Rating: fluff but I'm a 18+ blog so no minors please

Warnings: a little bit of cheekiness but it's still fluff (it's Max, what can I say?), food and eating mentioned, biting, blood mentioned

Synopsis: Max's early gift to you this year is a break from work and dinner he's prepared himself. While settling down for the evening, you wonder if that's all he has in store for you...

The smell of your apartment hits you before the heat does. 

You’ve waited for this all day. It’s not that work was particularly draining. Rather than slowing down leading up to the holidays, business gets faster than usual in the winter time. Poinsettias are a hot commodity this time of year and the flower arrangement orders on the store side of the plant nursery stay steady. Just before the holidays, however, business slows. People are far too busy finishing their shopping lists and preparing their homes for the week and few odd days until New Year’s Day. But with Max’s promises of a dinner you don’t have to prepare and a night-in the evening before Christmas Eve? Well, the day can’t get over sooner.

The scent of Max’s cooking sizzles on the stove, intoxicating you while you shake off the cold. After taking your boots and coat off by the front door, you finally get a chance to investigate the scene before you. Max is commadering a small army of pots and pans while the oven and companion timer ticks and tuts away. He’s wearing that silly gag gift apron you exchanged with him this year for your first Valentine’s together. It’s black with a white pig and matching color letters in bold that reads, “I LIKE MY MEAT RUBBED AND MY PORK PULLED.” He’s frantic by the stove, constantly checking. Off to his right is a murder scene of grocery totes and discarded wrappers. It’s a shame to break his concentration really. He sneaks a look at you and greets you with his signature smile.

“Hey, there’s the breadwinner. Bring any rolls with you? I’m short on appetizers.” You come up from behind and envelope him, careful not to obstruct his busy hands. You peck him on his cheek. “What’s cookin’, good lookin’?’ Max scoffs. “Hey, that’s my line.” He grins. You hold onto him while you watch him sear some…steak? Ugh, yum. You’re in love. You sigh as you let him go and make your way over to sit by the kitchen island. 

“I think I’m going to sell my plant nursery and become a thief.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Why’s that,” he asks as he’s concentrating on flipping over the steak.

“Stealing lines is just the start. You better guard up boy.” You put your hands and your temples and slowly drag them down the sides of your face. “I’ve already stolen a kid from his family for the holidays.”

Max whips around with his spatula in hand. He starts waving it around. “For the last time, he’s a college kid away from home who’s looking to make extra bucks during his break.” He points the spatula at you. “You left him with detailed instructions, meticulous even, in order to take care of the place during your leave. He’ll be fine.” He turns back around to his command center. “You don’t know these business kids like I do, babes. They love nothing more than picking up odd jobs to diversify their resumes. Taking a job during Christmas break only shows their dedication. They’re always thinking ahead.”

You guess there’s some truth to that. When you ran into the bustling world of Max a year and some change ago, he seemed like an unstoppable force. Always taking on new tasks, new roles, and frankly more partners. He would come buy flowers and plants alike weekly, talking your ear off about it all. It wasn’t until one of his regular visits when he came in with an attitude. Tired yourself, you had nothing more but to return the favor. A full rant commenced about his lifestyle choices in a hot rambling blur. Were you out of line? Of course. Hell, you probably didn’t mean half of the things you said. But the oddest thing resulted from it: he came by more frequently after he cooled off about your first fight. He never bought a thing! Only stopping by to chat and bring coffee. Suddenly, he became very interested in your care with plants, what knowledge you held about the practice and all of your techniques. Honestly, you thought he was fucking with your brain. But later, he revealed that nobody ever stopped to tell him to slow down. Nobody ever showed him a slight concern or any sympathy. And especially, he was never given such a kindness while being shouted at. It turned him on. From then on, he stopped to smell your roses and help water your plants. All of his regular coldness, shrewd remarks, and fake smiles that he gave in abundances were replaced with warmth, genuineness, and playfulness. The best part? It was all for you.

And it’s exactly the kind of thoughtfulness that’s on display now. Max is in the home stretch now as he’s transferring the skillet from the stove into the oven and taking a carefully aluminum-wrapped mystery food in replacement. After adjusting the settings on the oven and turning off the stove, he brings out plates, napkins, cutlery, and beverages to you. He leans in close and harkens you back to your worries over the temporary nursery caretaker. “Maybe I’m getting coal in my stocking this year and my selfish present to myself is getting to enjoy my beloved away from our work.” He kisses you on the temple before making a dash back to the stove whilst cackling maniacally. And you guess he truly means it considering it’s him who’s paying for your time off this holiday. He even gave himself time off when he would usually work this time of year. Your heart swells as Max’s attempts to lift your spirits this holiday are working. Maybe it’s the vampire charm he’s using on you. You still need to ask him how to tell the difference between the two.

Max comes back to you, pot in tow and a Sharpie-drawn, pencil-thin mustache on his face. You burst out laughing. “When did you do that?” He looks at you in all seriousness, replying with a horrible attempt at a French accent. “Pardon me, patron, but it is rude to snickere at your waitere.” You hold back your next laugh behind a tight seal of a lip line. “Merci. For you tonight, patron, the kitchen is delighting you with comfort classics. Here we have your first carb for the night, macaroni and fromage.” He ladles a hefty amount of (rather fancy) mac and cheese. Off to a great start, certainly a man after your own heart.

He scurries off to bring you another pot of food of which he serves. “Collard greens, fresh from le jardin. Thoroughly rinsed, cooked, and seasoned to perfection.” There always has to be a green, you think. And again, he’s off, now rummaging around to put the final touches on his next side dish. Honestly, what good are his super fast vampire abilities if he never uses them? He plates a baked sweet potato with butter and brown sugar, topped with a dust of cinnamon (which he sprinkles in front of you). “Wonderful,” you say. “Your second carb for tonight, patron,” Max says with flourish. Before you’re able to ask how many carbs there are going to be for the evening he goes back to the stove. Does he have an 8 course meal hidden back there? He carefully removes the skillet from the oven and glides over to reveal - “The star of the show. Dry-aged New York strip steak, marinated, pan-seared, and then baked to crisp heavenliness for your pleasure.” He plates the steak and its drippings on top.  He pauses for a moment and looks dead on as he places a sprig of rosemary on top of the steak. “Bon appetit.” He bows.

You can’t help the cheek-to-cheek grin as you clap at him. “I’m very impressed.” You put your napkin in your lap and have your fork and knife ready. “Although, you are supposed to let the meat rest,” you tease. He gives you a look as he’s trying to wipe the mustache off of his face. You giggle. “Dude, I’m just messing with you. Ugh, it really is wonderful. Thank you, Max. Really.” He speaks, dropping the borderline offensive French accent. “Well, let’s let the dinner do the talking, my love. Eat.”

You make noises of delight as you eat (inhale? Honestly, it’s been a hot minute since you haven't had a microwaved dinner). The food certainly lived up to the hype you gave it all day at work. You make little dances unbeknownst that you have an audience. It startles you when you look up from your plate to see Max staring at you lovingly. 

“I thought you were cleaning up.”

“How could I when you’re being absolutely adorable?’

“What did you put in those collards that makes them so good?”

“Chicken stock! You know, a lot of people just boil their greens, add vinegar and extra seasonings, but I go the extra mile and -”

While he’s cleaning up the dishes, Max rambles on to you about all the details of your dinner. You don’t mind it. Not at all. He has to talk to somebody about it. It’s not like his coworkers would listen - they wouldn’t even believe him if he were telling the God honest truth. They would tell you that it’s because you’re his captive audience. And they wouldn’t be so wrong. But you know that if roles were reversed, he would be the one listening to you go on about how to keep nutrient rich soil and natural pesticides. It all has to do with the fact that he’s comfortable with you. He realizes that he doesn’t have to do the song and dance with you. He’s allowed to be himself with you just as much as you are able to be yourself around him. Besides, it’s his coworkers’ loss. They’re missing out on the world’s greatest vampire chef.

After you’ve finished dinner, Max promises he’s got special plans for dessert but not until after you’ve rested. “I’ve got a little early Christmas present for you anyways.”

“Maaaaax, I told you. No surprises until Christmas Day.”

“I know. I know. But it’s just something to get you extra cozy tonight.” He smirks.

“Max, you promised. No s-”

“Hey now, don’t get ahead of yourself. I haven’t forgotten.” His face becomes stoic as he recalls an earlier conversation. “Tonight is for zoning and zonking out while growing into the couch. I get it. I get it.”

He directs you to your room to get changed. On your made bed (wait, did you make your bed this morning? Where did that pile of dirty laundry go) is a new pair of Christmas pajamas. True to his word, there’s nothing inherently sexy about them, unless someone finds various corgis with little Santa hats their idea of a good time. You stick to your nightly routine and don on your cute little pjs before coming back out to your living room area. You find Max (the ever busy bee tonight) in a cozy Henley and red plaid pajama bottoms waiting by the couch. He’s cleaned up any and all messes in the kitchen, turned off the overhead lights, turned on your lamps, lit your fresh evergreen candle, and, most importantly, turned on the only Christmas decoration you had time to put up this year: your Christmas tree.

“What’s this?” you ask. Max shrugs. “Thought I’d create some ambiance while you watch your trash reality tv.” “Ah yes, nothing says romance like mind-numbing television and petty cat-fights.” He’s even got the tv to the right channel. You’re surprised he remembered that you wanted to save the holly-jolly Christmas movies until tomorrow. You come right up to him and embrace him in a hug that turns into a short slow dance in between the coffee table and the couch. You steal a chaste kiss and the remote simultaneously to turn up the volume. “I see how it is,” Max chides.

It wasn’t a very remarkable night, but that’s what made it spectacular. Every now and then your viewing or train of thought is interrupted by Max’s foot massages, a very welcomed distraction nonetheless. You enjoy your reality show marathon while admiring your Christmas tree. It’s a simple pencil-tree really, but it holds significance in your family. Instead of regular Christmas lights, it is donned with bulbs that flicker like candles. You can’t remember how old it is but you treat it with care every year, afraid a slight breeze might disrupt it. And apparently, Max also takes notice of its meaning and fragility since he turned it on for you. He even took the time to light up the little angel holding two candles on the top. 

When Max does finally get up, he’s messing around in the kitchen again. You try to peep up from the couch to see what he’s up to only to be met with Max’s game buzzer vocalizations. He wants to keep your dessert a complete surprise. And surprise he did.

“Close your eyes.”

You do as instructed. “Should I be worried? Is it that bad?” you tease.

“For your blood sugar, sure.”

When he sits down you open your eyes to see a large warm brownie with salted caramel chunks- “A la mode,” he says with the French accent. You fully gasp this time. He was right, it was worth the surprise. “Max!” Full stomach be damned, you dig right into that thing immediately. There’s a second stomach for desserts, right? “I was hoping you’d like it,” he says smuggly. You sprawl out your arms along the couch in awe, your mouth full. “It’s divine.”

 Halfway through demolishing your gift though, you can’t help but wonder…

”You know….all of this has been really good.” 

Max looks at you. “Hmmmmm, I’m sensing a but…” 

“Not exactly, rather an inquiry.”

“Hit me.”

“Well, this all seems hearty and balanced. All I’ve had tonight…”

“I try my best to give you the very best.”

“Like steak. What did you say it was full of before? Heme iron?”

“The more digestible kind, yeah.”

“Collard greens….non-heme iron.”

“The one from plants, your favorite.”

“Sweet potatoes, vitamin C, to aid the digestion of all this iron.”

“You seem very knowledgeable about iron all of the sudden…”

“The new pajamas so I can fall asleep right after you take blood from my veins tonight!!!”

You stand up with your arms crossed and your hips out. He begins his retort in light astonishment as he waves his hands in the air. “I cannot believe the slander of my good name! After all of the things I’ve done for you tonight. Harumph.” He shakes his head. You look at him, all of your playfulness removed. He wavers. “Alright, yes. You got me. I’m fattening you up for the slaughter.” You start to move away but he stops you. “I just knew how comfortable you were going to be tonight and thought you might’ve wanted a supernatural sleep aide tonight to carry you off into a peaceful eight hours of sleep. I was always gonna ask. You know that, babe. And if you say no? I eat the leftovers I brought with me.” You sit back down and think it over for a moment, still eyeing him down for any slight dishonesty. During this pause, his voice gets lower, more gentle. “I know I’m still getting used to this ‘doing things for others’ schtick and I’m sorry if I’ve come off as ungenuine. I really did mean for you to have a good night tonight.”

After leaving him in as much silence as punishment you see fit, you sigh. “I know. That’s what the macaroni and brownies were for.” You smile at each other. You point your finger at him with a fire lit behind your eyes. “But next time, just tell me in advance, okay? And if I ever find out that you’ve been starving yourself for me, declining your plans will be the least of your worries. Do I make myself clear?” Max looks grave and he nods furiously. “Loud and clear, dear.” He opens his arms in apology and you accept with all of the sincerity it brings.

Still uncomfortable with the stillness the previous discussion brought, Max pretends to suck from your neck ravenously. You breathily giggle. “Max, you know that’s not how we do it.” He comes back up for the air that he doesn’t need. “Oh, you’ll find that I’m full of surprises come Christmas Day.” He wiggles his eyebrows. You both break into laughter. “Oh really? And who said you were the only Claus in town?” He embraces you again and gives you nothing more than a hickey on your neck. “Ooo, dirty Santa.” You playfully hit him as he jumps up from the couch. You roll your sleeves in anticipation for Max’s dinner. “Alright, I guess you’ve waited long enough.” You clear your throat and put on your best accent. “We have only the finest for you tonight on tap, iron infused, fresh from the source.” Max’s eyes widen and smile spreads. “There you go!” He takes hold of your arm by the wrist in one hand while the other only slightly slaps the middle of your arm in attempts to make your veins show up. Before he indulges in a bite, he gently kisses the top of your forehead and rests his own there. His voice quiets. “Thank you.”

Like previous blood donation sessions, Max clamps down in the fold of your arm. He treats it like any real donation. He always makes sure you are well fed before your visit and only takes what is necessary. To ensure he doesn’t deplete you, he waits weeks and months before entertaining the thought of introducing the idea again. This is a declaration of love in of itself as Max finds nothing sweeter than your taste. You’ve seen his venom in action on unsuspecting prey (non-human, of course. You don’t stick around for those hunts). The sleep you experience afterward is more of a tranquilizer than his normal victims, but you’ve found it helpful after a tough week for getting some shut eye. There’s no side effects the morning after besides the remnants of sleep.

The feeling is euphoric as always. The best way you’ve described it to Max is that it’s as if he’s replacing your blood with nectar or ambrosia. It may drain you (literally), but you swear you get as much enjoyment out of it as he does. Which perhaps, may be more. He keeps anxiously looking up into your eyes, gauging how close to sleep you are based on how heavy your eyelids get. Often, he worries too much about making situations about himself, but here is, ensuring your comfort and safety at every moment.

When you struggle to keep your eyes open, he stops immediately and licks your wound until it’s healed (something about vampire magical saliva properties…honestly, you don’t ask). Growing more tired by the second, he picks you up bridal style with ease courtesy of his superhuman strength. He slowly carries you to your bed, lowers the bedsheets with one hand, and gently lays you into bed. In your last bits of consciousness, you remember him joining you for the night and pulling the covers over you. He envelopes you in what little warmth he can spare from his clothes and vitality you gifted him. You both know he’ll sleep a dreamless sleep given that he doesn’t need rest to sustain him. Still, he softly kisses the back of your neck in appreciation. As you slip under you hear his words lull you away.

“Pleasant dreams, sugar plum.”

Post Author's Note: This is my first time writing a piece in like...2 years. I'm very proud of myself and very grateful for the opportunity that you guys gave me. Your support never goes unnoticed. Hope you enjoyed!

[darklove9314-blog]

You’re mine: A Viviane and Kallias Fanfic

Day 5 of SJM Romance Week, Pronpt: Favorite Trope.Reunion. Hurt/Comfort

Synopsis: Kallias returns to the Winter Court after the events of Under the Mountain to find out someone is there waiting for him.

It had been fifty years since Kallias had seen the sunrise, had soaked up its rays as he lifted his hands, soaking in the suns warmth for the first time in decades,He had been used to the cold, it was something he had always had to deal with in the Winter court, but being Under the Mountain, being in that prison conjured by that twisted fae queens cruel mind had been anything short of deplorable.

After a minute or two of allowing himself a small symbolist of peace Kallias opened his frosty blue eyes, taking a deep breath of the fresh air he had been denied for so long as he let it expand his lungs before making his way back to his court, ready to embrace whatever his life had waiting for him.

When he made it to the Winter Court, the walls he had known all his life were now enforced with the harshest of all ice. He only knew one water user who could have done this with her water and ice manipulation powers, a female who could have protected his court as best as she could while he was away saving his home so he had something to come back to. His heart beat for her and he hoped she could hear his in answer.

Pressing his hand to the ice barricade, hoping it would set off whatever wards were inside the city, he heard the shouts from the other side of the barricade, the bellows of “There’s someone at the wall!” before he heard the guards who protected him all his life approach. Weapons at the ready to defend the court that was theirs.

Kallias lifted his icy blue eyes to them, holding each one of their gazes as they halted, their eyes widening as if they had seen a ghost. His commander's spear dropped, taking a small step forward as if she could hardly believe her eyes her lips dropped as she covered her lips in surprise.

"Kallias." Wren whispered, almost in disbelief. He did not blame her, he had not expected to make it out from under that mountain, had almost had his fight snuffed out of him, extinguished forever, before he felt some pull begging him to keep fighting. had it not been for the love of his court and for his people he would have not been standing here now.

He took a step forward ready to address his commander, ready to ask about-

"Kallias!" Her voice called to him as lyrical as any song he had ever heard as she parted the crowd that had gathered around them, guards chasing after her as she halted in front of him just as beautiful as the day he had been taken from her.

"Viviane." He whispered realizing her name was the first thing he had uttered ever since he had walked out from under that mountain.

He felt like he had been holding his breath since he had left, ready for this to be all an illusion, a prison of his own creation, a trick of the mind, but now with her...he felt like he could finally breath.

"Lady, you can not-" Wren started when Viviane tried to make her way to him, a flicker of anger rising in him at the command.

He was not sure what triggered it, he and Viviane had been best friends since childhood. He had trusted her so much that he had trusted the task of overlooking of his court to her, and of course he had been protective of her then, but now-now it felt like something more. Like a primal urge to protect her always.

"She can do whatever she likes." Kallais argued as Wren and Viviane both turned to him.

"Whatever my High Lord commands." Wren replied taking a step back from Viviane as she turned fully to him, looking like a vision in silver walking towards him with her white hair blowing in the harsh cold winter wind, furs in her hand as she threw it over his shoulders to shield him from the cold.

"Come inside. You must be freezing." Viviane instructed him as his royal guard tried to follow, but he whirled towards them, finding his commandar as he instructed.

"Leave us. I am safe with Viviane."

Wren looked reluctant as if she were about to argue before Cato coughed sparing her a glance before the sigh fell from Wren's lips.

"As you wish, My Lord." She conceded, giving him a bow before her and his royal guard dispersed leaving the two alone.

"Would you like me to escort you to your rooms?" She asked him as he shook his head not wanting to go to the Winter Palace. that would entail putting on a brave face and a front that he was not ready for.

Right now he did not want to be High Lord of the Winter Court, for now he wanted to just be Kallias and there was no one else he could be just Kallias with than with Viviane.

"What do you wish to do?" She inquired. Snowflakes falling on her eyelashes as he longed to stroke them.

"The cabin. I wish to go to the cabin."

She nodded, grasping his hand so she could intertwine her fingers with his, the warmth of her hand thawing the cold that had seeped deep into his bones these past fifty years and he never wanted to let go of the fire within her again.

When they got into the cabin, shutting the outside world out from around them. Kallias glanced down at the coat she had brought him realizing she had not been wearing one in return.

“You’ll catch a cold.” He stated glancing around the cabin to see if there was a fire place around, but Viviane did not seem bothered and just shrugged it off.

“I haven’t lived here all my life to be bothered by the cold Kallias.”

His hands fidgeted at his sides, he needed to move, needed to do something after being trapped for so long.

"Well then you won't mind if I get a fire started for us. It's been a while since I've felt warmth."

A haunted look passed over her features, anger seeping into it as she said,

"I would kill that witch if she were still alive." She muttered, a dangerous edge to her voice. One that Kallias knew all too well.

He fully turned towards her, drinking her in, starved from being deprived of her presence for so long as he made his way towards her, tilting her chin so he could gaze into those icy blue eyes.

"I have no doubt that you could." He mused, his gaze flickering to her lips, not sure why they did so, but feeling the urge to see how they tasted.

He had to stop this. This wasn't the time to be doing this. They had things to do, other things to focus on, but he couldn't get her out of his mind. He hadn't been able to since she was taken from him fifty years ago. She had protected this court with her life, and she had done well in spite of everything that that witch had thrown at her. His warrior, in every sense of the word.

"Thank you." He said, those eyes of hers leaving his lips and flickering up to his own gaze as her eyebrows bunched together.

"For what?" She asked.

"For protecting this court when I could not."

Pain and sorrow flickered across her gaze as she took a step back from him, walking over to the baby blue couch over in the corner so she could sit.

"Can you start a fire?" She inquired throwing Kallias off with her change of subject.

He knew there were things Viviane could not speak about. Had been there when Amarantha had given those orders to send that plight. They still haunted him but he knew deep down that the loss of those children had haunted the members of his court the most. Viviane especially.

When he had some time to himself to get settled he would go to them, go to every house no matter how long it took and sit with those families to ease their sorrows. Even though he knew it would never be enough he had to do something.

He walked over to the fire, grabbing some logs and placing them into the fireplace so he could stroke the flames, the fire alight as he glanced back at Viviane bathed in firelight. The dancing flames reflecting off her white hair as she looked at the fire lost in whatever memory was haunting her.

Despite Kallias’s worry, Viviane always looked stunning, like an avenging queen who would fight and die for her court, someone with such a fierce devotion who he always would want by his side.

"I should have tried harder to save them." Viviane mused as Kallias knelt down before her, she was the only female in existence that he would ever kneel for.

He cupped her face in his hands their eyes meeting as he swore he heard her sharp intake of breath at the touch, her throat bobbing in response as he said,

"There was nothing that could have been done Viviane. Not with the kind of power she possessed. Not even the seven High Lords combined were enough to defeat that kind of power. You must not blame yourself for our failures.”

Viviane turned away, her teeth gnawing on her bottom lip as regret still lingered in her gaze, Kallias staying knelt beside her.

"I just don't know what we could do. For them and our people. Everything is such a mess."

He turned her face back to his,

"We'll do the best that we can. Together."

Viviane nodded, as Kallias glanced at her, the woman who held his heart and his soul. Who had loved this court so fiercely that no one could compare, a queen in her own right who let others know it and didn’t back down from a challenge. A queen he wanted by his side..always.

"Marry me." He proposed as Viviane's gaze turned to him, shock in her features as she fully took in what he had just proposed ,

"But I am not royalty.. your court will-"

"My court will be led by someone who has stuck by my side even when i was not there. A female who loves it just as fiercely as any royal could. there's no greater honor I could have then to have you by side."

He braced himself for it, for the rejection, what he had not expected was for her lips to crash into his. For their souls to connect with one another, recognition in their gazes as she pulled away, a smile bursting from those lips he would recognize for the rest of his life as she whispered,

"Yes."

@sjmromanceweek

[evenceflux18]

Probably at this point, Coraline is more stressed over Wybie than pushing their baby out, cause like:

Coraline: It's okay, I'm fine you can rest for a bit, I'll just wake you up when I'm contracting...

Wybie: Okay, okay...just let me know okay? or even better, just scream...

Coraline: *chuckles* Yeah yeah, just close your eyes for even just a minute you haven't slept for three days, for pete sake...

Wybie: Okay....okay *worriedly lies down*

Wybie: You better let me know-

Coraline: I will, Wybourne, but you need rest

Coraline: I need a husband, not a ghost looking when I wake up...

Wybie: You have a point...*kisses her forehead* alright, I go get some rest...

Coraline: *closes her eyes for a minute ready to sleep again*

Wybie: Are you sure you're not in pain?

Coraline: WYBIE-

*He asked her after 5 minutes of their conversation*