#be responsible and take a moment to sit down and THINK

[ohtobeleah]

Something that goes without saying is how uncertain Logan really is about sleeping in the same space as another person. Sure, he'll commit to the fun beforehand….The foreplay, the sex, the highs.

But the inevitable act of sleeping beside someone, terrifies him.

We see it in Origin, we see it in Days of Future Past. Sometimes while Logan is sleeping, his claws come out when he feels under duress. Nightmares are a common occurrence for this man, not a night goes by where he isn't waking in the dead of night to the ghost of his past.

And I'd like to think of all the Logans running around the multiverse, that the Worst!Logan has surely been through some things. He's never experienced true rest. Not until he met you.

“I'll sleep on the couch.” Its common at the beginning of whatever the dynamic between the two of you is. Logan ends up back at your cafe, or in your living-room, bathroom, kitchen or bed—but he never stays beside you for longer than a few minutes after. Not because he doesn't crave that intimacy or true human connection, but because the idea of losing you to his own mutation truly scares the ever-living fuck out of him.

But one night, you catch him off-guard. So off guard that Logan doesn't even have a counter proposal ready.

“Ill join you,” You beam, padding down the hallway with your blanket and pillow wrapped in your arms. “Somethings bothing you and with friends like me and Wade, that shits gonna come up eventually,” You ramble. As you sit beside Logan on the lounge he slept on more often than his own bed, he catches a glimpse of a few noticeable scars on your back. Scars where his claws had once accidentally taken over in an otherwise romantic moment between the two of you. “So, get talking pops.”

“Don't call me pops.” Logan sighs as he opens his body up for you to snuggle up against him. “It's nothing I can't handle, didn't anyone ever tell you not to stick your nose where it doesn't belong?”

“Are you trying to tell me that I don't belong here?” You counter quickly, playing Logan’s logic against himself. “Me? Resident of this timeline? Doesn't belong right here next to you?”

“Go fuck yourself,” Logan smiles all the while trying to keep his brooding man mask on. But with you he feels ever atom of his being igniting with desire and unconditional love. “I worry I'll hurt you, while I'm sleeping,” Logan explains as you listen to his heartbeat inside his chest. Snuggled on the lounge in your apartment. “You don't know how much that thought terrifies me.”

“Hmm,” You hum in response. “Perhaps the question you should be asking yourself Lo, is what if the nightmares, what if the fear stops, when you allow yourself to rest with someone you love?” It was a bold word to use, and even though it was rarely, if ever used, there wasn't another word in the English language to describe how Logan felt about you. Or how you felt about him.

And its a thought that's never crossed Logans mind before. He frowns, thinking it over in the late-night silence. You fall asleep there, right with your head on Logans chest as he tru thinks.

Only to wake up in a tangled mess of sheets, with Logan snorning next to you as the early morning sun kisses his golden, aging skin. Its the first night in years he hasn't woken in screaming terror.

“Tell me told you so and I'll turn you into a skewer.” Logan mumbles as you pepper him with kisses across his exposed back.

“I think I'll take my chances with you, Lo,” You chuckle to yourself. “I'll make you some coffee.”

@a-reader-and-a-writer Canon Ilya universe content

Ilya

[aceyalonso]

that's the thing about illicit affairs - OSCAR PIASTRI

pairing : ex!oscar piastri x fem!reader ↳ slight lando x fem!reader at the end

summary : a maid of honor and a groom that she knows all too well, only one of them gets their happy ending.

warnings : swearing, drinking, fighting, relationship issues, mentions of settling down, marriage, majority of story takes place in 2027

word count : 6.5k

song : illicit affairs - taylor swift

a/n : happy 400 followers with a not so happy post! and a special ty to @iamred-iamyellow for convincing me to write this <3

September 10th, 2024

Y/n lifted her head from Oscar's chest, shifting her position to look at him directly. She took a moment to gather her thoughts before speaking. "Have you ever thought about getting engaged or married someday?"

Oscar's expression turned slightly cautious as Y/n asked the question. He paused for a moment, thinking about it. Finally, he responded, "Well... I haven't really given it much though, to be honest. I've been focused on our relationship and enjoying our time together."

He shifted a bit on the couch, now sitting up straight. His gaze remained fixed on Y/n as he continued. "Why do you ask? Is it something you've been thinking about?"

Y/n nodded, a mild sense of disappointment showing on her face at the realization that Oscar hadn't seriously thought about it yet. "I was just wondering. It's something that's been on my mind for a while."

The conversation turned into a more serious tone as the topic escalated to an argument. The initial lighthearted mood was replaced with tension and disagreement between Y/n and Oscar.

Y/n's frustration began to show on her face, her voice getting slightly louder. "I don't understand why you haven't thought about it yet. We've been together for 3- Almost 4 years, Oscar."

Oscar's initial surprise at the escalation of the argument slowly turned to frustration as well. He responded, his voice rising slightly as well. "It's not that I don't want to marry you, it's just... I don't know if I'm ready for it yet. The thought of getting engaged or married is a huge commitment.

Y/n scoffed a bit, her agitation growing. "I know it's big commitment. But that's exactly why it's important to discuss it and be on the same page about our future. I need to know what we agree and don't agree on!"

Oscar sighed, running a hand through his hair in frustration. "I don't want you to feel like I'm avoiding the topic, but it feels like you're putting pressure on me to make this decision. I just need more time to think about it, alright?"

Y/n crossed her arms, clearly dissatisfied with Oscar's response. She lets out a huff before responding. "More time? We've been together for years, and still need more time to think about it? How much more time do you need?"

Oscar's irritation grew at Y/n's response. He raised his voice slightly, matching her heightened tone. "I understand that we've been together for a long time, but that doesn't mean I have to be ready to get engaged or married right now. And constantly pressuring me about it isn't going to make ready any faster.

Y/n shot back with a bit more heat in her words. "I'm not trying to pressure, I just want some clarity about our future. It's not unreasonable to expect some form of commitment after being together for this long. You make it sound like you're not even sure if you want to marry me at all!"

Oscar's expression hardened at Y/n's accusation. "That's not fair. You know I love you, and I don't doubt our relationship. But marriage is a big step, and I want to be absolutely certain that we're both ready and willing to commit to it for the rest of our lives."

Y/n let out an exasperated sigh, feeling increasingly frustrated. "I understand that, but I feel like you're keeping me in limbo. You can't ask for more time without giving me some assurances that you do see a future with me. I need some sort of confirmation that we're on the same page here."

Oscar let out a deep breath, trying to calm himself down. "Okay, look, I do see a future with you. I do want to be with you for the rest of my life, alright? I just need more time to mentally prepare for the idea of getting engaged or married. It's a lot to process all at once."

Y/n relaxed slightly at Oscar’s reassurance, but their concerns still lingered on their face. “That’s good to hear, but it’s still not enough for me. I need more than just words. I need some kind of proof that you’re serious about our future together.”

Oscar, now clearly irritated, threw his hands up in desperation. “What more assurance do you need? I just told you that I see a future with you and that I love you. What else could you possibly want from me? A written guarantee? A legal contract?”

Y/n, equally frustrated, shot back with an aggressive tone. “No, I don’t need a written contract. I just need some sort of action, some steps towards making our future together a reality. You keep telling me you’re sure about us, but then you hesitate when it comes to actually making a commitment.”

The argument continued to escalate, both Y/n and Oscar becoming more frustrated and emotional. Y/n’s voice continued to raise, their words now filled with frustration and hurt. “I can’t believe you’re still making excuses. I’m tired of feeling like I’m the only one who wants to take our relationship to the next level. You keep stalling, and it makes me question if you really want to marry me at all!”

Oscar, in his frustration and anger, snapped back with a hurtful remark. “You know what, if you keep acting like this, maybe I won’t marry you at all! At least I'll be free from you and your stupid neediness!”

As soon as the words left his mouth, he regretted them. The pain and shock on Y/N’s face were evident, and he knew he had crossed a line.

Y/n stood up from the sofa, tears beginning to well up in her eyes. Her voice trembled slightly as she spoke. "Fine, if that's really what you want, then it won't happen. If you don't see a future with me, if you don't want to marry me, then there's nothing more to discuss."

Y/n, moving with purpose, made her way to the bedroom. There, she hastily grabbed a suitcase from the closet and began stuffing it with clothes and essentials. A sense of anger and determination filled her actions, her emotions still heightened from the argument.

Meanwhile, Oscar followed behind, trying to stop Y/n form leaving. He entered the bedroom and pleaded with her, his voice filled with regret and desperation. "Where are you going? You can't just leave like this!"

Y/n snapped back at him, her voice still angry and strained. "I can and I will. You just made it clear that you don't see a future with me. What am I supposed to do? Stay and keep hoping that someday you'll change your damn mind?!"

Oscar, his emotions conflicting, tried to find the words to convince Y/n to stay. "I didn't mean it. I was just so frustrated and angry, I didn't what I was saying. Please, don't go. We need to talk this through."

Y/n, who was still packing her suitcase, paused for a moment to look at Oscar. "There's nothing more to talk about. You said what you said, and I heard it loud and clear. You don't see a future with me, so what's the fucking point?"

Pausing once more in the midst of packing, looked directly at Oscar. "When we first started dating, I made it clear that I wanted to settle down one day. I was upfront about my expectations, and you knew what I wanted. Yet, here we are, years later, and you're still not ready for that commitment.

Oscar, feeling a mix of guilt and frustration, responded defensively. "I know I haven't been ready yet, but I told you I need more time. That doesn't mean I never want to marry you. It just means I'm not ready right now."

Y/n, now fully packing their suitcase, shot back with a hint of sarcasm. "Right, because waiting endlessly for you to make up your mind is so fun. You've had years, Oscar. How much more time do you need? A decade? A lifetime?"

Oscar, starting to get frustrated again, tried to defend himself. "You're acting like I'm doing this on purpose! I'm not stalling or avoiding the issue. I just need more time to figure things out. I have to be sure about such a big commitment!"

Y/n zipped up her suitcase, expression hard and uncompromising. "Spare me the excuses, Oscar. You've had ample time to reflect and consider. And here I am, still waiting for you to make a move. Your inability to make a decision speaks volumes, and I refuse to continue wasting my time, hoping for something you're not even ready to give."

Y/n, now walking out of the bedroom with suitcase in tow, was stopped in her tracks by Oscar's gentle yet firm on her free wrist. As she turned to look at him, he called out to her with a pleading tone. "Baby, wait. Don't go. Let's talk about this. Please."

Y/n looked him in the eye with a mixture of hurt and anger. "Don't call me 'baby'. You don't get to use endearments on me now. You lost that privilege when you made it clear that you don't see me as someone worth committing to."

Oscar, realizing his mistake in using the endearment, looked at Y/n with a remorse and desperation. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have called you that. I'm just trying to get you to stay and talk to me about this."

Y/n shook her head, her expression still firm and determined. "No, I'm done talking. I'm done waiting. You had your chance to discuss this, and you dismissed it. I don't want to hear any more excuses or apologies right now. I need space."

Oscar, growing increasingly worried, pleaded with Y/n once more. "Please, don't go. This is the same old argument we've had before, but we've always worked through it. Let's take a break, cool off, and come back to this later."

"Exactly!" Y/n's voice is laced with frustration and exhaustion. "We keep pushing this issue aside, hoping it'll resolve itself. But it never does!" she says, tears starting to fall in between sobs. "Instead, it just becomes a bigger problem each time we avoid it. We can't avoid this conversation forever, and it's tearing me apart."

Y/n, determined to leave despite Oscar’s efforts to hold her back, breaks free from his grip and walks towards the door.

Oscar, watching her walk away, calls out to her pleadingly. "Please, don’t go. We can work this out, can’t we? You can’t just leave without resolving this."

Y/n, standing at the door with suitcase in hand, responds with a mix of determination and pain. "You’re right. There won’t be anything to resolve if there’s nothing left between us. And right now, it feels like there’s nothing left to salvage."

Oscar, panicked and desperate, tries one last effort to make her stay. "No, don’t say that! We have years together, a life built together. You can’t throw it all away just like that."

Y/n, her voice tinged with hurt and bitterness, answers with a sharp response. "When you said you don’t feel free around me, it felt like a slap in the face. As if being with me is some kind of prison sentence to you. So maybe it’s better if you are free, without me in the picture."

Y/n opens the door, her steps resolute and determined. Without looking back, she walks out and slams the door shut behind her. Oscar, left alone in the apartment, stands frozen in place, the sound of the door slamming echoing in his ears.

February 12, 2027

Three years have passed since Y/n left, and she has found herself in a different place, both geographically and emotionally. She has moved from Monaco to France, and is now living in a cozy apartment with her roommate, Alexandra.

Y/n and Alexandra are folding laundry and chatting away in the living room, enjoying each other's company. Suddenly, Y/n's phone buzzes, signaling an incoming call. She glances at the screen to see that it's her cousin calling.

Y/n, spotting the caller ID "lily 💗", excuses herself from the conversation with Alexandra. She picks up the phone, her voice tinged with curiosity. "Hey, what's up?"

Lily, sounding excited on the other end of the line, wastes no time in telling her the news. "Hey, guess what? I'm getting married! And I'd really love it if you could come to the wedding. It wouldn't be the same without you here!"

A smile spreads across Y/n's face as she listens to her cousin's cheerful announcement. She feels a mix of joy and surprise. "Oh my goodness, that's wonderful news! I'm so happy for you. Of course, I'd love to be there for your wedding. It's going to be a beautiful occasion. Have you set a date yet?"

Her cousin, still beaming with happiness, replies warmly. "Yes, we have! We're getting married in two months, at a beautiful venue here in Monte Carlo. It's going to be a wonderful celebration. I can't wait for you to be there with me."

Y/n's cousin, continuing the conversation, extends a special invitation. "Oh, and by the way, I wanted to ask you something else. Would you do me the honor of being my maid of honor? It would mean the world to me if you were by my side on my special day."

She feels a wave of warmth and appreciation at her cousin's request. She quickly responds with enthusiasm. "Oh my goodness, of course I'll be your maid of honor! It would be my absolute honor to stand by your side on your wedding day. I'm so touched that you asked me."

Her cousin lets out a happy sigh, feeling relieved and delighted at Y/n's acceptance. "Thank you, thank you, thank you! I'm so glad you said yes. I can already imagine us having so much fun during the preparations and on the big day. You're going to be the best maid of honor ever!"

She rejoins Alexandra in the living room, her expression a mix of joy and excitement. "Sorry, that was my cousin. She's getting married apparently? She asked me to be her maid of honor too!"

Alexandra, hearing the exciting news, lights up with delight. "Oh, that's fantastic! Congratulations to the both of you!" she says, clapping lightly. "Being a maid of honor is such a special role. When's the big day?"

Y/n's voice brims with anticipation as she responds. "In two months, it'll be in Monte Carlo."

Alexandra, curious to know more about Y/n's cousin and her fiancé, poses a question with a tone of intrigue. "That sounds wonderful! So who's the lucky groom?"

Y/n opens her mouth before slowly closing it. "You know, I just realized, I don't actually know..." she replies sheepishly.

The two girls sit in awkward silence for a few moments before bursting out laughing. Y/n can finally say that she feels happy. At least, way happier than she was with Oscar.

April 26, 2027 | Chapel

The long awaited wedding day, and the setting couldn't more picturesque. The venue is adorned with elegant decorations, and Y/n stands by chapel doors, ready to walk down the aisle alongside the best man and to see the groom for the very first time.

Y/n, in her satin green dress, is arm in arm with Lando, the best man (who she met a week ago). They make their way up to the altar, and as her eyes scan the surroundings, something catches her eye. She turns her gaze towards the altar, and there she sees the groom awaiting his bride.

As the groom turns around to face the aisle, Y/n's heart skips a beat. There, standing at the altar, is Oscar, her ex-boyfriend. Y/n feels a mix of shock and disbelief. Lily is getting married to Oscar.

Oscar, caught off guard by the sight of Y/n, manages to keep his composure despite the surprise. His eyes go wide with realization, but he quickly masks his emotions and turns his attention back to the altar.

Lando, feeling Y/n's grip on his arm tighten ever so slightly, turns his attention to her with concern. He senses something is amiss and leans in slightly to inquire in a low whisper. "Hey, is everything alright? You look like you've just seen a ghost."

Y/n, struggling to find her words, manages to compose herself enough to respond to Lando's question. "I'm... I'm fine." she mutters, forcing a smile. "Don't worry about it. Let's just focus on the ceremony right now. I'll explain everything later if we have time."

Lando, sensing Y/n's unease, nods in understanding but keeps a watchful eye on her throughout the ceremony. He feels there's more to it than meets the eye, but he decides to respect her request to wait until later to explain.

The processional draws to a close as Lily walks down the aisle, looking stunning in her snowy white dress. Y/n, unable to help herself, steals a glance at Oscar, who stands at the altar, his eyes filled with awe as he gazes at the bride- his bride, in all her splendor. There's a mix of shock and a tinge of melancholy in Y/n's expression as she observes him.

Her thoughts race through her mind as she stands alongside the other bridesmaids. She watches Oscar at the altar, his eyes fixated on Lily, and a sudden pang of bittersweetness washes over her. In that moment, she can't help but wonder if this is what it would've been if she and Oscar had gotten married, if they would've worked it out. A mixture of nostalgia and melancholy fills her heart as she contemplates what could have been.

Her inner turmoil intensifies as she struggles to reconcile her current circumstances with the memory of the dreams and aspirations she once had with Oscar. The weight of the unspoken emotions between them hangs heavily in the air, and split second, Y/n finds herself caught in a whirlwind of "what if?" scenarios before she snaps back to reality, reminding herself of the reasons that led them down separate paths. The same reasons that led them to this day.

Lily reaches the altar, and Oscar assists her with her beautiful gown, his hands gently arranging the fabric. In the process, their eyes meet for a fraction of a second, and the intensity of that brief glance nearly brings tears to her eyes. The connection, though fleeting, stirs a mix of emotions within her, bringing back memories and longing she thought she had buried in the past.

Unable to bear the weight of Oscar's gaze any longer, Y/n averts her eyes, feigning the need to fuss with her own gown. She busies herself with adjusting her attire, using the action as a guise to avoid looking at Oscar, who stands just a few steps from her. She tries to mask the turmoil within her, hoping no one notices the storm of emotions brewing beneath the surface.

Oscar tears his gaze away from Y/n and redirects his focus to his bride. A genuine, radiant smile illuminates his face, and in that moment, Y/n realizes that she has never seen him smile quite like that before. The smile is wide, full of joy and contentment. Y/n can't help but feel a sharp pang in her heart.

The sight of Oscar's unabashed happiness with his bride strikes a chord deep within Y/n. It awakened a mix of sorrow, regret, and a hint of resignation. She understands that his smile, while beautiful, is no longer hers to witness. The reality of their broken relationship, and the different paths they've taken, is now undeniable, and the weight of that realization settles heavily on her heart.

The mixture of emotions in the air is palpable as Y/n stans beside the other bridesmaids, her eyes till fixated on Oscar and the bride. She can't help but feel a jumble of sadness, envy, and acceptance, witnessing the unfolding scene in front of her. The moment seems to stretch on, each second reminding her of what could have been.

The ceremony continues, and as the moment arrives for Oscar to kiss his bride, the air catches in Y/n's throat. Y/n, along with all the guests gathered, watches as the newly weds lock lips, sealing their union in a heartfelt kiss. Y/n's heart clenches as she longs to be the one standing with Oscar, to be the one he's kissing.

Their kiss seems to last an eternity, each second a poignant reminder of the love that Oscar now shares with someone else. Y/n's eyes are fixed on the couple, her heart wallowing in sorrow and acceptance. The realization that she is no longer a part of Oscar's future washes over her, and she finds herself in the same bittersweet feeling that she found all those years ago.

Y/n, although her heart is heavy, knows she has no choice but to join in the applause. She raises her hands and claps along with the guests. Her hands come together in a rhythmic applause, the sound blending with the collective joy and celebration around her. Inside, her heart is aching, but on the outside, she manages to maintain a semblance of composure, hiding the storm of emotions within her.

April 27, 2027 | Reception

Time swiftly moves forward to the reception. Lando, as the best man, steps up to the podium, ready to deliver his speech. The room falls silent, and all eyes turn to him, waiting to hear his words. Lando takes a deep breath before starting, his voice filled with a mix of humor, warmth, and genuine affection for the couple.

Lando begins his best man speech with a warm smile, his eyes flickering across the guests. "Good evening, everyone. I feel incredibly honored to be standing here as the best man for this beautiful couple. Today we gather to celebrate love, commitment, and the beginning of a new journey for our newlyweds, Lily and Oscar. I've known Oscar for a long time, and I can confidently say that I've never seen him as happy as he is today, all thanks to the incredible woman sitting beside him."

As Lando continues with his speech, Y/n sits in her chair, listening intently. The mention of Oscar being the happiest he's ever been makes her chest tighten, as though an invisible weight is pressing down on her heart. The reality that Oscar has found true happiness with someone else, the very thing Y/n had once hoped to provide for him, is a bitter pill to swallow.

Y/n, lost in her thoughts, zones out during the last part of Lando's speech. The words around her turn into a blur, and she becomes unaware of the speech's conclusion. Her mind is preoccupied with the barrage of emotions swirling inside her, and she finds herself in a state of partial detachment from the ongoing celebration.

Lando, sensing that Y/n was lost in thought, gently places his hand on her shoulder. This gesture snaps her back to reality, and she becomes aware of the room around her again. Seeing her jolt slightly, he gazes at her with a compassionate glance. "Hey, it's your turn to give a speech."

Her heart rate quickens as she realizes it's her turn to give the speech, and she takes a deep breath to steady herself. She glances around the room, the weight of the moment settling heavily on her shoulders.

Y/n slowly walks up to the podium, her steps deliberate and measured. As she stands in front of the microphone, she can feel the eyes of gathered guests fixed on her, waiting for her words.

She stands behind the podium, taking a moment to collect herself before speaking. With a mixture of joy, love, and disbelief, she begins her speech.

She starts, "Good evening, everyone. For those who may not know me, I’m Y/n, the bride’s cousin, but truly, we’ve always been like sisters. Standing here today, I feel a flood of emotions - joy, love, and perhaps just a hint of disbelief that this day has finally come."

Y/n continues, "You see, when we were children, Lily and I would often engage in 'wedding' games. We'd don makeshift wedding veils made from pillowcases and fiercely argue over who would get to be the bride. It was a serious matter for us back then, and more often than not, we’d ultimately settle on her being the bride. According to her, she just 'looked more like one.' Well, Lily, I have to admit, you were absolutely right—because here you are today, looking stunning, more beautiful and radiant than I could have ever imagined."

Her voice is a mixture of warmth and sentimentality as she continues her speech. "It’s fascinating how childhood dreams have a way of becoming reality, and yet, it’s even more astonishing to witness how you’ve grown into the remarkable woman standing before us now. Over the years, I’ve watched you navigate the ups and downs of life with such grace, and today, as you marry Oscar, my heart swells with happiness for you both."

In the midst of her speech, Y/n’s eyes inadvertently meet Oscar’s, and a wave of emotions courses through her. The weight of the moment, combined with her feelings for Oscar, causes tears to well up in her eyes, making it increasingly difficult to continue speaking.

She pauses, attempting to blink back the tears that threaten to spill. Clearing her throat lightly, she tries to push through the momentary emotional wave that has struck her. The pain in her heart is evident, but she forces a smile, determined to complete her speech with a semblance of composure.

Taking a deep breath, Y/n collects herself and presses on with her speech, "While I’m brimming with joy for you both, I must admit I feel a tinge of bittersweetness, for today marks the beginning of a new chapter in your life — a chapter where you start your own family. But if there’s one thing I know for sure, it’s that no matter how life changes, no matter where you go, we’ll always be as close as we’ve been."

Y/n steals another quick glance in Oscar's direction before continuing. Her emotions are still close to the surface, but she plows on, speaking with a mixture of bittersweet happiness and nostalgia.

"You’re not just my cousin; you’re my sister, and this connection we share is something that will forever remain unchanged. So here’s to the both of you. May your love be as strong and lasting as our bond has been all these years. And Lily, if this day proves anything, it’s that you were always destined to be the bride." she says, wiping away her tears with a small handkerchief Lando handed her.

As Y/n completes her speech, her eyes inadvertently find their way back to Oscar. The gaze she gives him mirrors the one she had when they parted ways three years ago. The pain, the longing, and the unresolved emotions are all still there, making her next words more strained.

With her gaze still fixed on Oscar, Y/n struggles to keep her emotions in check as she continues her speech, her voice trembling slightly. Despite the ache in her heart, she forces a smile, her words now directed towards Oscar.

"And to Oscar, I hope you enjoy growing old with her as much as I enjoyed growing up with her." Each word feels like a dagger to her heart, but she finishes her speech, the pain in her eyes reflecting the depth of her unspoken feelings.

Y/n, fighting to maintain her composure, finally comes to the end of her speech. Her voice wavers slightly as she utters her final words. "A toast! To Lily and Oscar!"

Her words hang in the air, a bittersweet sentiment that lingers in the room. The guests raise their glasses in agreement, blissfully unaware of the turmoil within Y/n.

Lily, moved by Y/n's heartfelt speech, stands up and embraces her cousin in a tight hug. But while Lily basks in the moment, blissfully unaware of the pain her happiness is causing Y/n, the latter can only focus on Oscar, her eyes filling with tears as she gazes at him. The raw emotions bubbling beneath the surface seem to intensify, and it takes all her strength to hold back the floodgates.

April 27, 2027 | After the Reception

The reception has come to an end, and the hotel lobby is relatively quiet at this late hour. Lando, getting ready to head out, spots Y/n standing in the corner, holding her crumpled gown in one hand and her phone in the other. He approaches her with a concerned expression.

"Hey," Lando says softly, standing beside Y/n. His voice is gentle, tinged with concern as he looks at her. "Are you alright? You seem a bit... off?"

Y/n glances up at Lando, her expression weary. The emotional toll of the evening is evident on her face. She forces a small smile, trying to appear okay. "Oh, yeah, I'm fine," she replies, her voice slightly strained. "Just a bit tired, you know."

Lando can sense that Y/n isn't being completely honest, but he doesn't press the issue. Instead, he offers her two options. "You sure you're okay? You can always crash at my place if you want," he suggests. "Or, if you're up for it, we could go for a drive. Whatever you prefer."

Y/n ponders for a moment, weighing her options. Finally, she decides to take Lando up on his offer for a drive.

"A drive sounds good," she says, her voice slightly weary but also filled with a hint of relief. "Lead the way."

With a nod, Lando leads the way towards his car, parked outside the hotel. He unlocks the door, takes her gown, and gestures for her to get in. Once they're both settled in the car, Lando starts the engine and begins driving.

The silent drive envelops them, its quietness only interrupted by the soft hum of the engine and the occasional sound of passing cars. Both Lando and Y/n seem weary, the evening's events taking their toll on them.

Lando glances over at Y/n periodically, noting the fatigue etched on her face.

He drives them to an empty beach, where only the signs of life are a few stray cats and dogs sleeping beneath a nearby bridge. The beach is mostly deserted, and the soft sound of waves crashing against the shore adds a soothing atmosphere to the surroundings.

He parks the car and shuts off the engine, the sudden silence feeling both peaceful and surreal at the same time.

Lando gets out of the car and opens the trunk. He rummages through it, pulling out two bottles of beer. He closes the trunk and walks over to where Y/n is standing, holding the bottles in one hand.

"Wanna share a cold one?" he asks, offering her one of the bottles.

As Lando hands Y/n a bottle, she glances at him with a puzzled expression on her face, her confusion evident. "You just happen to have cold beer in your trunk?" she asks, raising an eyebrow.

Lando laughs at her questions and explains, shrugging his shoulders. "Nah, I don't keep beers in my car!" he says, chuckling. "It was supposed to be for the wedding, in case we ran out. You know how weddings can be."

Y/n nods in agreement and requests a bottle opener. Lando pats his pockets, searching for one. After a moment, he pulls out a small, multi-purpose tool from his pocket that serves as a bottle opener.

"Can I?" he says, gesturing for her to hand him the beer.

Y/n thanks him and hands her bottle to him, waiting for to him to open his bottle. As he uses it to pop the lids off both bottles with a satisfying fizzing sound, she takes her bottle and watches the foam settle on the top of the liquid.

Lando closes the trunk and follows Y/n down to the sand. They walk down in silence, the soft sound of their footsteps blending with the gentle rhythmic crashing of the waves.

The cool night air wraps around them, offering a refreshing reprieve from the day’s festivities. The soft light of the stars and the moon casts a gentle glow over the beach, making the surrounding area appear almost magical.

As they reach a spot on the beach and sit down, Lando takes a sip of his beer and sets the bottle down in the sand. He glances over at Y/n, his expression curious. “Hey, can I ask you something?” he says.

Y/n looks up at Lando, her expression open. “Sure, what is it?” she responds, her curiosity piqued by his inquiry.

Lando takes another sip of his drink before continuing. “When we were standing there, right before you were supposed to give the speech, you started acting kinda strange. I’m just wondering… did something happen?”

He pauses for a moment, the memory of their walk down the aisle surfacing in his mind. His tone becomes concerned and inquisitive. “And when we were walking down the aisle, you seemed… I don’t know, kinda on edge too. Did something happen back there or…”

Y/n sighs heavily, knowing she can’t avoid the question any longer. She gazes out at the ocean, the weight of her emotions visible in her expression. “I guess you noticed that something was up after all,” she says, her voice tinged with a hint of regret. “It’s a long story, Lan.”

Lando looks at Y/n, giving her a reassuring smile. “You know what? We’ve got all the time in the world right now, it’s just you and me.” he says, his voice gentle and inviting. “And I’m all ears if you need to talk about whatever is bothering you.”

Y/n feels a mix of emotions, knowing that Lando is willing to listen to her and that she can finally open up about what’s been bothering her. She takes a deep breath, her voice slightly shaky as she begins to tell her story.

“Okay… So I guess I should start by telling you that Oscar is my ex-boyfriend.” She sighs, feeling the weight of her words settle over her.

As Y/n drops the revelation about Oscar being her ex, Lando’s response is somewhat unexpected— his beer goes up his nose, causing him to cough and splutter lightly. Y/n stifles a laugh, finding a brief moment of humor amidst the intensity of their conversation.

“Hey,” she giggles playfully, “you okay there?” Lando clears his throat, wiping away the remnants of his beer mishap.

“Yeah, sorry about that,” he laughs, his eyes still watering slightly. “I just… did not expect that detail?”

They both laugh softly, and the moment of levity helps to alleviate some of the tension hanging in the air.

Y/n takes a deep breath, regaining her composure, and going on with her story. “Long story short, things didn’t end well between us… I guess seeing him again as the groom, all dressed up and looking ready to start a new chapter in his life, well, it just hit me pretty hard,” she confesses, the sadness and lingering pain evident in her voice.

Y/n takes a moment to gather her thoughts, summoning the courage to share the painful truth. “The main reason we ended things was because he wasn’t ready to settle down. He didn’t want what I want— commitment, a future together, you know? It hurt, but I had to respect his decision.” Her voice trails off, memories of their breakup flooding her mind, stinging her again.

The mention of Oscar’s reluctance to commit triggers a painful memory for Y/n, causing her eyes to cloud with a mix of sadness and longing. “And now, seeing stand there, so ready to marry someone else, with the biggest smile on his face… It’s like my hope of us being together has been shattered all over again.”

Her laughter is tinged with bitterness, the irony of the situation not lost on her. “To make matters worse, it just had to be my cousin, right? Like some sort of fucking soap opera. I mean, what are the odds of that?” Y/n muses, shaking her head slightly.

Seeing the sadness etched on Y/n’s face, Lando can’t help but feel empathy for her situation. He reaches out, gently placing a comforting hand on her shoulder, his touch conveying a silent understanding.

As Lando reaches out and touches her shoulder with a comforting gesture, Y/n feels a wave of gratitude towards him. She looks at him and forces a small smile, appreciating his support.

“Thank you, Lan,” she mutters, her voice barely above a whisper. “It’s just… hard to see him so happy with someone else when I still have feelings for him- well, I thought I didn’t love him anymore, I thought I had moved on, but seeing him today… it just brought everything back.”

Hearing Y/n’s words, Lando clears his throat, a thoughtful expression on his face. “Y’know, Y/n, it’s completely understandable that you feel this way. Seeing an ex move on can be incredibly difficult, especially when you’re still clinging to those lingering feelings and hopes of what could have been.

He pauses, considering his words carefully. “Maybe it’s time for you to actually let go and move forward. Leave the past behind.”

In the midst of their conversation, a small tabby kitten suddenly appears and jumps into Y/n’s lap, surprising the both of them. The sudden appearance of the kitten seems to momentarily distract them from their heavy discussion.

“Whoa, where did you come from, little one?” Y/n exclaims with a surprised laugh, as she gently pets the kittens fur.

Lando chuckles and remarks, “Y’know, they say cats are surprisingly good at sensing emotions. It must have sensed your sadness, Y/n. They can absorb negative vibes like little fluffy energy absorbers.”

Y/n couldn’t help but smile at Lando’s explanation, the idea of the cat absorbing her sadness somehow comforting. “That makes sense, I guess. It’s kind of sweet, in a way,” she muses, continuing to pet the kitten which responds with a soft purr. “Maybe this kitty will absorb all of these painful emotions and turn them to into something positive.”

As if sensing the conversation, the kitten nuzzles against Y/n’s hand, it’s purring growing louder, sending gentle vibrations throughout her fingers. The warmth and innocence of the moment provide a brief respite from her emotional turmoil.

Y/n chuckles, but her laughter is tinged with bitterness. She looks down at the kitten in her lap. "I realized something earlier. I'm always be the bridesmaid, and never the bride. It’s like my destiny is to always be the supporting character in someone else’s love story, not the one who gets their own happy ending."

She sighs softly, a mixture of resignation and disappointment in her voice. “I never thought that I’d be that cliché— the forever bridesmaid, never finding true love. Yet here I am, witnessing it all unfold in front of me.”

Lando locks eyes with Y/n, his gaze sincere and filled with a hint of something more than just friendly concern. “Love has a mysterious way of hiding in the most unexpected places. Maybe… the person you’re looking for is right in front of you, and you just need to open your eyes to see it.”

His words hang in the air, leaving them both pondering the possibility of love closer than they think.

masterlist

taglist:

@nepobbylver @wobblymug @xoscar03 @irishmanwhore

[yesimwriting]

Okay, so, secretly pining best friends with Logan! Very fun! Loved it!

But also, adults do have "sleepovers," (too tired/drunk/late to drive home, so you crash overnight on the couch) and depending on the dynamic of your friendship, can actually be a little taste of what domestic life would be like together. Just. Sitting together quietly, winding down from a good day, then getting ready for bed when one of you decides it's time to be A Responsible Adult and get a decent night's sleep (you're not kids anymore, after all. Sleep is important).

Waking up in the morning, knowing your best friend is here. Quietly making breakfast together, laughing over how sleepy you both are before coffee, lightly teasing each other over bed head and morning breath. Doing your morning routines together, pointing out stupid shit in the news or bitching over work emails, just drawing out the time before you have to get ready to face the real world.

Imagine Logan being one of those sleepy bear types who grumbles until he fully wakes up, who's soft and warm and domestic when he's with someone he trusts. Also, I imagine that if you tease him about needing to shave in the morning, he'd be the type to chase you down and rub his scruffy face on you in revenge, which is basically how a scruffy guy marks you as his. (His best friend? His potential future partner? No, just his in general.)

a/n yes, a hundred percent yes to all of this

----

The soft glow of the bedside lamp has transported you into another world. A universe made up of the faint scent of detergent and the feel of warm bedding beneath your fingertips.

You blink. There's no reason to feel as drowsy as you do, not when Logan's spent the last ten minutes scolding you. Still, though, something about sitting at the foot of his bed makes it easy to give into your lingering haze. It'd be easy to fall asleep like this.

"Don't," the instruction is flat, "Stay awake."

His back is still to you, which means there's no harm in openly frowning. "I am."

Logan's sigh is nearly masked by the gentle groan of a drawer being pushed shut. He turns around, expression still pinched but much less irritated than before. "Barely." You part your lips, some nonsensical protest waiting on the tip of your tongue, but Logan beats you to it, "Here."

He's extending an arm, a piece of fabric clutched loosely between his fingers. You blink again, this time focusing on the weight of your eyelids. The gesture is such a sharp contrast from his earlier attitude, you're nearly overwhelmed by your whiplash.

You stand before accepting the T-shirt. "Thought you were mad at me."

He lets out a breath, the sound sharp enough to constitute a warning. "I'm not--" His gaze shifts towards the ground. "You should have called me."

This again. "I was fine." His eyebrows draw together with the same level of offense that he used when you first presented this argument. "And I wasn't even alone, I was with Jean and Scott." He scoffs. "And you said to call you if anything went wrong, and nothing did."

Logan walks forward slowly, his steps measured until he's close enough to fully deteriorate your already fragile train of thought. In an attempt to regain control, you lift your head to look him in the eye. He frowns as he raises a hand, his fingers coming to rest beneath your chin.

He's careful as he tilts your head back. There's a weight to his silence. "You're drunk." All you can think to do is blink. He's known this, it's the main reason he's been lecturing you since the couple that graciously allowed you to third wheel all night dropped you off. "You're unreliable."

"Not that drunk."

The correction doesn't ease him. He studies you for another long moment before releasing you with a tired sigh. Maybe you should take it easy on him. It's not his fault he has the heart and patience of someone that's lived two centuries. You sigh. "Fine, next time I go out, I'll wake you up to come get me, even if I'm totally okay."

He ignores your sarcasm with expert ease. "Knew you'd get it, Princess."

You squeeze the T-shirt's fabric between your fingers in an attempt to ignore the warmth threatening to crawl up your neck. "I'm full of understanding."

"Yeah," he mumbles flatly, turning away from you as he walks towards his bed. You watch him with an openness that a more sober you would have never gotten away with. Logan had come to the door in a pair of loose sweats and no shirt. It had been easy to ignore his appearance when you were still in the giggly stages of being drunk. "Go change."

An instinctual desire to argue almost has you protesting, but you are tired of your going out clothes. And the thought of getting to pass out in Logan's bed for a few hours isn't exactly unappealing.

You pull the T-shirt over your head. Logan says your name, but you're too focused on adjusting the hemline to react. The shirt's large enough to cover most of your upper thigh, falling only an inch or two above the dress you're wearing. You slip the dress's straps off of your shoulders before reaching beneath the shirt's loose fabric. You tug at the dress's zipper before slipping the material down your legs.

You pick up the discarded fabric, folding the dress before placing it on top of Logan's dresser. He's uncharacteristically quiet as you approach the available side of his bed. "You seem tired."

He leans towards his nightstand, arm stretching outwards to turn of his bedside lamp. His eyes settle on some point a little past your shoulder. "Not all of us are 20-somethings that can stay up all night."

It's a teasing comment, likely an attempt at preemptively limiting your usual 10 to 15 minutes of yapping before actually attempting to fall asleep, but it digs at you. Jean was the one that insisted on letting Logan babysit you, you wanted to let him sleep. "I didn't want to wake you up."

Logan shifts, his bent leg nearly brushing against yours. "I wasn't asleep," the words are low, careful, "But if I had been--you wake me up." He pauses. "I'd rather that than know you're walking around drunk and looking like that."

An uneasy heat spreads through your chest. You focus on the bedding pooled over your lap. Like that--the kind of comment that'd usually have you insulting the person making it for attempted slut shaming. But Logan's voice is too distant for you to find any insult in it, even in a teasing context.

You bend fabric between your fingers, pressing the nail of your thumb into the material. You nod once.

He shifts towards you, his warmth becoming impossible to ignore beneath shared bedding. "I sleep better like this anyway."

The words are uncharacteristically soft, almost cautious. You lean into the feeling of them, allowing your back to relax against a pillow.

You've shared a bed with Logan before, usually after hanging out with him a little too late and once on a mission where you had to pretend to be recently engaged to avoid blowing your cover. It's not exactly common, but you know how he sleeps enough to know that he's not exaggerating. As soon as he's asleep, he loses the ability to be aware of personal space, an arm across your waist and chin pressed into your shoulder.

"Considering the way you take up the entire bed, I'm sure."

He exhales, the sound more pointed than it needs to be. "You steal blankets."

You scoff. "That's so not true." The corner of his mouth pulls itself upwards, the look much too triumphant. What a lame argument--you don't steal blankets, you're not given a chance to. As soon as Logan's on you, it's nearly impossible to move. "Like I can steal blankets out from under your adamantium skeleton."

Logan tilts his head, eyes narrowing in a way that promises nothing good. "You're saying I'm heavy."

Well, when framed like that, anything can sound rude. "No." You press your lips together to keep from laugh. "I"m saying your skeleton is literally made of metal..." You straighten in an attempt to make yourself focus. "...And metal is--" Your mental hold slips, a soft laugh tumbling past your lips as you try to think of a politically correct way to make your point. "...Heavy."

He leans forward, his knee brushing against your leg. There's a tact to his movement, a deliberateness better suited for the violence of the outside world. A warning, you realize, a moment too late.

Logan shifts his weight. You laugh as his hands find a place on each of your shoulders. "That's the same thing."

Helplessly, you press a palm against his chest. Your halfhearted protests do nothing to sway him. You laugh again, elbow pressing into the mattress in an attempt to steady yourself. Logan moves a hand to the back of your head before letting the brunt of his weight fall onto you.

You let out a sound halfway between a laugh and a squeal as you're pushed down. Your head hits the pillow, but the suddenness of the motion doesn't hurt. His forearm is resting near your head, turning him into more of an implication than an actual force capable of crushing you.

You let yourself smile openly. For someone that's always willing to remind you of his age, he has no problem acting like a child. Your lips part, but the laugh attempting to crawl up your throat dies before it can slip out.

Logan's watching you, his eyebrows drawn together in a way you can't interpret. His warmth, the feel of him against you, all of it, loses its humor.

He stays like that for what could be awhile, or no time at all. Then, Logan shifts, his arm moving away from the side of your head. Before you can overthink the change, he's resting his head against your upper stomach.

He's--there's never been this much openness about physical contact. Sure, you guys are comfortable with each other, with you having no issue resting your head against his shoulder during movies or reaching for his hand after a particularly rough mission, but that's--that's usually you.

You force yourself to recover, focusing on your breathing to keep from outing yourself. With the kind of care you'd use to keep from scaring off a skittish stray, you move a hand towards his back. He briefly stiffens as you drag your fingers against his skin, but after a second, he exhales. "You're like a house cat."

You feel Logan's sigh more than you hear it. "I'm not answering that." That's okay. You're happy enough without his validation.

Things stay quiet, and you slip further into the realm between sleep and consciousness. "You--you're um--okay, right?" The question is stiff, maybe even a little awkward. You're so close to sleep, you can't bring yourself to get what he's asking. "Comfortable?"

You're glad to not have to hide your smile. "Yeah," you mumble, voice distant, "It's nice."

You're not sure what you're referencing, but Logan doesn't ask, so you decide it doesn't really matter.

----

The light is a tangible thing, felt against your skin before you can squint your eyes open to see it.

You shift, noting the dull ache of your head as you lift your hand to wipe at your face. Wait.

It comes back to you all at once--the drinking, the after drinking, Logan.

You open your eyes fully. It's instinct to shift, but it's nearly impossible to do much more than lift your head. Logan's asleep, his head resting against your ribs and arm draped over your waist. How did you not notice this?

It would make sense for Logan to be a light sleeper. Even when he's at ease, he never seems fully settled in the feeling. So you're careful as you move, head turning as you try to look at him.

Logan's breathing loses its consistency before you can fully embrace the privacy. His fingers press into your hip so briefly you almost convince yourself the contact is only a product of your early morning haze.

He moves onto his back, palm brushing against your shirt as he leaves you. "Morning, princess."

There's something comforting about hearing his voice first thing in the morning. "Good morning." The words are a little raspier than you thought they'd be, difficult to force out around your hazy discomfort.

The corner of Logan's mouth pulls itself upwards. "I thought 20-somethings didn't get hangovers."

You roll your eyes. There are a lot of aspects of Logan's personality that warrant old man jokes, but his alcohol tolerance isn't one of them. You roll onto your side, propping your head up on one elbow. "I'm not hungover."

The almost-smile grows into something more assured. You let yourself enjoy the easiness of it. "Sure you're not, bub." The response is so warm you have to work at keeping your halfhearted pout.

Logan shifts, the mattress dipping as he sits up. "C'mon." He turns his head, looking at you from over his shoulder. "You'll feel better after you eat something."

The mention of food makes you aware of a hollowness you hadn't yet noticed. The thought of breakfast feels perfectly settling. You sit up with a smile, swinging your legs over the side of the bed. "You're not gonna make me eat weird hangover cures, are you?"

He pushes himself to stand. "You're going to have to take that chance."

There's no humor in his tone, and his back is to you so you can't read his expression, but something tells you it's safe to follow him out of his room, anyway.

[chosok-amo]

+ wc. daddy kink! toji, fingering, degrading, you give him viagra.

toji fushiguro has never felt this way before in his life. he’s always been a sexually charged man— always had a high libido, but this? this is becoming ridiculous. he’s not sure what the cause of it is, but he’s sitting at his desk at work. his fingers mindlessly type away at the keyboard, hand fiddling with the mouse, but his thoughts are only on one thing.

why on earth is he feeling so hot? fuck, and why is his cock so hard? why are beads of sweat beginning to form on his forehead? he glances at the clock feverishly, muttering a curse to himself as he realises he’s only two hours into an eight hour shift. fuck, what does he do? what does he do?

the first thing he can think of is you, grabbing his phone with slightly shaky hands as he opens up your contact and presses on the call button. he glances around, making sure nobody in the office is close enough to hear, and listens to it ring. the moment you pick up, you hardly get a greeting out before he’s hissing into the receiver.

“alright, ya’ fuckin’ brat, what’d ya do?”

your response on the other end is a stifled giggle and a denial of responsibility on your part. he curls his upper lip, knowing immediately that that laugh means you do have something to do with this.

“don’t fuck around with me, girl, i know it’s your doin’. now tell me, what did you do, why is my cock so damn hard right now?”

you let out another small giggle, shaking your head even though he can't see you through the phone. you lean back against your pillows, stretching out comfortably as you reply in a light, teasing tone. “aw, poor baby. having some... trouble down there?” you ask innocently, drawing out the last word for emphasis. you can practically picture the scowl on his face, which only makes you grin wider.

“maybe if you're a good boy and beg nicely, i'll tell youuu..” you trail off suggestively, enjoying the power you seem to have over him in this moment. a thrill runs through you at the thought of reducing such a strong, confident man to pleading for relie— and all from the comfort of your own bed, no less.

he grunts, rolling his eyes at your innocent act. how you think you can fool him, he doesn't know. maybe because you're so fucking young? whatever the reason, it's working. he feels his cock throbbing in agreement with your suggestion, a low growl rumbling in his chest.

“beg, huh? alright then, princess,” his voice drops to a low purr, “on your knees for me, sugar. show me just how much you want to help your big bad toji.” he chuckles, shifting in his seat as he waits for your response. he knows you won't disappoint— not when there's fun to be had.

you smirk to yourself, quite pleased with how easily you've gotten under his skin. you sit up straighter, crossing your legs primly as you respond in a sweet, sing-song voice.

“ohhhh toji, you know i'd love to! but...” you draw out the word dramatically, “...i don't think i will. after all, i'm comfy right where i ammm.”

you giggle again, delighting in the frustrated noise he makes on the other end of the line. you can almost feel the heat of his glare through the phone, and it sends a delicious shiver down your spine.

“besides, didn't anyone ever teach you it's rude to make demands? if you wanna play, you gotta learn some manners first,” you punctuate your words with a wink, even though he can't see it.

his eyes narrow, the annoyance clear in his gaze as he leans back in his chair, crossing his arms over his broad chest. “well isn't that just fucking rich? demanding manners from someone who clearly hasn't learned them yet themselves.”

he lets out a huff, running a hand through his dark hair in frustration. but despite himself, he can't help but smile at your antics. “fine then, brat. how ’bout this? how ‘bout i give you a little taste of what you're denying me?”

there's a pause as he takes a moment to adjust himself, the sound of rustling fabric filling the silence between you both. he clears his throat, his voice dropping lower still. “how ‘bout i take matters into my own hands instead?”

you bite your lip, trying to suppress the excited flutter in your stomach at his words. you can practically imagine the sight of those large, capable hands wrapping around his thick length, and it sends a wave of warmth pooling between your thighs.

“that sounds... tempting,” you admit, your voice dropping to match his sultry tone. “but i'm still comfortable here. and besides, i'm not sure how well you handle rejection...”

you let the implication hang in the air, knowing full well how much it would irk him. you can already picture the look of stubborn determination on his face— the same look he gets whenever he sets his mind to something.

he snorts, a hint of amusement lacing his voice despite the growing irritation. “rejection? from you? well, ain't that just a fucking shame. please, kid, you don't know the first thing about turning me down.”

his fingers drum impatiently against his thigh, the tension in his body palpable. “look, i'm giving you a choice here. either you get off that damn bed and come play with me, or i'll just have to find my own release. and trust me, it won't be pretty.”

there's a dangerous edge to his words, a promise of things to come if you continue to deny him. he's not used to being teased like this, and it's starting to grate on his nerves. but goddamn if it's not also turning him on more than he cares to admit.

you shiver at the threat in his voice, a thrill of excitement mixed with a touch of fear. you know exactly what kind of'release' he's referring to—and the thought of it has your core clenching with need.

“ohhh, I'm shaking in my boots,” you tease, trying to keep your voice steady despite the ache building inside you. “but you know what they say, baby... pride comes before a fall.”

you pause, letting the weight of your words sink in. “and honestly? i'm not sure i'd want to be around for the aftermath of your tantrum. seems like it might get messy...” you trail off, leaving the invitation open-ended. you're playing with fire, you know— but the thought of seeing him lose control, of witnessing the raw desire etched across his features, is too enticing to resist.

his patience snaps like a twig underfoot. “fuck it,” he growls, standing abruptly and pacing the room in agitation. “i‘ve had enough of your games, brat.”

he stops in front of the window, gazing out at the cityscape below as he tries to regain his composure. “listen up, kiddo. i’m coming over. and when i do, we’re gonna forget all about these silly little teases and get down to business.”

there's a finality to his tone, an unspoken command that brooks no argument. he's made up his mind, and now it's time for you to comply. “be ready,” he adds, his voice low and warning. “or else.”

your heart pounds in your chest at his declaration, a mix of anxiety and anticipation swirling within you. you quickly scramble off the bed, your feet hitting the floor with a soft thud as you rush to prepare yourself.

“or else what?” you challenge lightly, attempting to mask the tremble in your voice. “you gonna spank me like a naughty child? or maybe you'll just have to punish me some other way...” you let your words hang in the air, suggesting all manner of punishments that send a fresh wave of heat coursing through your veins. you know you're pushing him, testing his limits—but part of you craves the chaos that follows such reckless behavior.

he laughs, but there's no humor in it. “don't tempt me, girl,” he warns, each syllable dripping with barely restrained lust. “because believe me, when i get my hands on you, you won't be sitting down for a week.”

he hangs up without another word, leaving you staring at the phone in disbelief. seconds later, there's a sharp knock at the door, followed by the jangle of keys. he must have kept a spare set, you realize, your heart leaping into your throat as the door swings open and he fills the frame.

he looks pissed. and turned on. and maybe a little bit crazy. “hello, sweetheart,” he drawls, stepping into the apartment and closing the door behind him with a resounding click. “ready to pay for all that attitude?’

he stalks towards you, a predatory glint in his eye.

your breath catches in your throat as he approaches, the air charged with tension and expectation. you stand frozen in place, unable to tear your gaze away from the fierce intensity in his eyes.

“i... i don't know,” you reply coyly, tilting your head to the side as you feign innocence. “attitude's kinda my thing. what makes you think i'd want to change?” you take a step back, retreating until your back presses against the wall. the cool surface provides a stark contrast to the heat radiating off your flushed skin.

he closes the distance between you in two long strides, one hand slamming against the wall beside your head as he looms over you. his free hand finds your hip, gripping it possessively as he leans in close.

“oh, i‘ll make you want to change,” he promises darkly, his breath hot against your ear. “i‘ll make you beg for it, princess. i‘ll make you scream so loud the whole damn neighborhood will hear you.”

he punctuates his words with a rough grind of his hips against yours, the hard bulge of his arousal pressing insistently against your stomach. “sooo, what's it gonna be, sugar? you gonna be a good girl for daddy? or do i need to teach you a lesson?” his hand slides higher, skimming along your ribcage until his thumb brushes the underside of your breast.

a gasp escapes your lips at the contact, your nipples hardening instantly beneath the thin fabric of your top. you squirm against him, feeling the throbbing pulse of his arousal against your belly.

“i... i...“ you stutter, caught between defiance and desire. “daddy? who said anything about daddies.” your protest falls flat, though, lost amidst the haze of arousal clouding your senses. you arch into his touch, seeking more friction against your sensitive flesh.

“teach me then,” you whisper, a daring gleam in your eyes. “show me how a real man handles a naughty girl.”

a low chuckle rumbles in his chest, the sound vibrating through you. “with pleasure,” he purrs, his grip tightening on your hip as he pulls you closer. his other hand moves lower, slipping beneath your skirt to find your panties damp with anticipation. “seems like someone's eager for their lesson,” he taunts, circling his fingertips around your swollen clit.

he pinches the sensitive nub firmly, watching your face for any sign of discomfort. but when none comes, he smirks. “good girl,” he murmurs approvingly, his fingers continuing their torturous dance.

“now why don't you show daddy how much you want this?” he coos, leaning in to capture your bottom lip between his teeth. “bend over and spread those legs nice and wide.” a whimper escapes you as his fingers work their magic, sending shockwaves of pleasure rippling through your body. you're already so wet, so desperate for more of his touch.

“please,” you breathe, the word falling from your lips unbidden. “i need... i need...” you trail off, unable to articulate the overwhelming hunger consuming you. instead, you obey his command, turning and bracing your hands against the wall. you look back at him over your shoulder, your eyes hazy with lust.

“like this, daddy?” you ask feigned innocent, slowly bending at the waist and arching your back. you reach back with one hand to lift your skirt, revealing the soaked patch of fabric clinging to your ass. “is this what you wanted?” you purr, spreading your thighs wider in blatant invitation.

a guttural groan spills from his throat at the sight before him. “fuck yes,” he growls, stalking forward to press himself against your exposed rear.

his large hands cup your ass cheeks, kneading the supple flesh roughly as he grinds his rock-hard erection against your panty-covered cleft. “such a pretty little slut for me,“ he praises, his hot breath fanning across your skin.

without warning, he yanks your panties aside and plunges two thick fingers into your dripping channel. “god, you're so fucking tight,” he grits out, pumping his digits in and out of you at a brutal pace.

he curls them slightly, stroking that spot inside you that makes your knees buckle. “come on, baby,” he urges, his voice low and commanding. “ride my fingers like a good girl.”

a high-pitched moan tears from your throat as he penetrates you, your inner muscles spasming around his invading digits. the combination of pain and pleasure sends you spiraling into a frenzy of desire. “yes, yes, please!” you chant, pushing back against his hand shamelessly.

your pussy clenches greedily around his fingers, soaking them in your juices as he fucks you relentlessly. the sounds of your own arousal fill the room—moans, whimpers, the obscene squelch of his fingers moving in and out of your cunt.

“‘m going to cum,” you warn, your voice strained and breathless. “if you keep doing that, i'm going to cum all over your hand.”

a wicked grin spreads across his face at your confession, his thrusts becoming even more insistent. “then let go, sugar,” he encourages, adding a third finger to stretch and fill you further.

he quickens the pace, driving into you with a relentless rhythm designed to push you over the edge. “let me see how much you love being fucked by daddy,” he taunts, biting down on your shoulder to muffle his own growing arousal.

the sensation of his teeth on your skin only heightens the pleasure coursing through you, making your orgasm that much more imminent. “that's it, just like that, gooddd, ” he coaches, feeling your walls clench and flutter around his fingers.

a keening cry splits the air as your climax crashes over you, waves of intense pleasure ripping through your body. your pussy convulses around his fingers, milking them for every drop of satisfaction they can provide.

“toji!” you scream his name, the single syllable carrying the weight of your surrender. your entire world narrows down to the feeling of his hand inside you, coaxing every last tremor of bliss from your quivering frame.

gradually, the aftershocks subside, leaving you limp and panting against the wall. “fuck,” you curse weakly, trying to catch your breath. “what did you do to me?”

a satisfied smirk plays on his lips as he watches you come undone under his touch. “just warming you up for the main event,” he teases, pulling his slickened fingers free from your spent pussy with a lewd pop.

he brings his glistening digits to his lips, licking them clean with a lascivious grin. “but we're not done yet, brat,” he says, his voice laced with promise. “it's time for daddy to get some attention.”

he steps back momentarily, shrugging off his jacket and tossing it aside. his shirt follows suit, revealing the chiseled expanse of his chest and abdomen. he unbuckles his belt with deliberate slowness, letting you take in the full extent of his arousal. “spread those legs wider,” he commands, kicking off his shoes and stepping out of his pants.

a shiver runs through you at the sight of his bare form, his muscles rippling as he moves. there's something undeniably primal about seeing him like this, stripped bare and ready for you. a shaky laugh bubbles from your lips, still tingling from the aftermath of your orgasm. you glance back at him over your shoulder, taking in the sight of his naked lower half.

“like this?” you ask, parting your thighs even further, exposing yourself fully to his hungry gaze. “is this enough for you, daddy?”

you watch as he discards the rest of his clothes, his muscular physique on full display. the throbbing bulge in his groin draws your attention like a magnet, its size promising pleasures untold.

“are you going to fuck me now?” you ask, tilting your head to the side and giving him a coy smile. “because i really hope so,” you added, your voice dripping with feigned nonchalance. “after all, ‘m just a naughty girl looking to satisfy her daddy.”

a low chuckle rumbles in his chest, his eyes darkening with raw lust. “naughty girl indeed,” he agrees, prowling forward until he's standing directly behind you.

his hands roam over your hips, gripping your flesh possessively as he positions himself at your entrance. “but daddy has other plans for you,” he whispers, pressing the head of his cock against your drenched folds.

he gives a slow, measured thrust, sinking into you inch by delicious inch. “feel that, sugar?” he asks, pausing to allow you to adjust to his size. "that's just the tip."

a gasp tears from your throat as he finally fills you completely, stretching you in ways you never knew possible. the sensation of being so utterly claimed by him leaves you breathless, your mind spinning with pleasure.

“oh god,” you moan, clutching at the wall for support. “you're so big... always so big,” you trail off, lost in the exquisite agony of having him buried inside you. he doesn't move for several long moments, allowing you to acclimate to his presence. the tension coiling within you is almost unbearable, each beat of your heart echoing the throbbing pulse of his cock pulsating inside your clenching walls.

“move,” you beg, finally finding your voice, “please, fuck me already.”

a smirk tugs at his lips at your plea, his hands tightening their grip on your waist. with a fluid motion, he begins to withdraw, only to slam back into you with bruising force.

each thrust hits deeper than the last, driving you further onto the edge of sanity. “like that?” he asks, punctuating his words with another punishing thrust. “does daddy feel good inside you?”

he sets a ruthless pace, fucking you with a precision that borders on cruel. every stroke sends shocks of pleasure radiating through your body, lighting up your nerves like fireworks on the fourth of july.

“you're so tight around me,“ he growls, leaning over your back to whisper in your ear. “so wet, soooo perfect.”

a strangled whimper escapes your lips as he hammers into you, the sheer intensity of his movements threatening to reduce you to a quivering mess. the sound of your bodies colliding echoes throughout the room, a symphony of carnal desires.

“mhm, oh god yes,” you moan, bracing yourself against the wall as he continues to ravage you. “so bigggg, daddy.” you reach back to grab hold of his ass, urging him to pound into you harder, faster. the sensation of his thick length splitting you open is overwhelming, sending jolts of ecstasy shooting through your veins with every brutal thrust.

“i can't...” you pant, struggling to find the words amidst the haze of pleasure clouding your mind. “i can't hold on much longer...“

a surge of possessive pride courses through him at your admission, fueling his desire to claim you entirely. “hold on, sugar,” he grates out, his voice rough with lust. “daddy's not done with you yet.”

he pulls back slightly, only to ram into you with renewed vigor. the angle of his thrusts hits that sweet spot inside you, triggering an avalanche of pleasure that threatens to engulf you whole.

“come for me again,” he demands, biting down on your shoulder to mark you as his once more. “show daddy how much you want it.” he quickens his pace, his hips snapping forward with abandon. the slap of flesh against flesh grows louder, the sound mixing with your cries to create a lewd chorus of carnality.

a keening wail tears from your throat as he strikes that perfect chord within you, sending you spiraling toward obliviation once more. the coil of pleasure inside you tightens, ready to snap at any moment.

“toji!” you scream his name, your voice cracking with need. “i'm gonna—”

your sentence cuts off abruptly as your orgasm washes over you, tearing through you with the force of a tidal wave. your inner walls clamp down hard on his cock, milking him for everything he's worth.

“fuck! fuck!“ you sob, riding out the waves of your climax, “’m cumming, ’m cumming!”

a guttural groan rips from his throat as your velvety walls spasm around him, the rhythmic squeezing pushing him closer to the brink. “that's it, baby,” he praises, his voice strained with the effort of holding back his own release. “milk daddy's cock.”

he continues to thrust through your orgasm, prolonging your pleasure until it borders on pain. “such a good little slut,” he growls, one hand coming up to tangle in your hair. he yanks your head back, forcing you to arch your spine as he pounds into you mercilessly.

with a final, brutal thrust, he buries himself to the hilt inside you. a hoarse shout tears from his lips as he finds his own completion, his seed spurting forth to paint your insides white.

the sensation of him filling you up, marking you as his, is indescribable. your entire body trembles with the aftershocks of your orgasm, your legs growing weak beneath you.

“oh goddd,” you pant, collapsing against the wall for support. “you're so deep... so full, daddy.”

the warmth of his cum flooding your womb sends another ripple of pleasure coursing through you, extending your high well past its natural end. you can't help but push back against him, desperate for every last drop of his essence.

you lean back against him, feeling his strong arms wrap around your waist. the warmth of his body pressed against yours, coupled with the lingering throbs of pleasure coursing through your veins, is simply heavenly.

a satisfied sigh escapes him as he slowly eases out of you, his cock slipping free with a wet pop. he turns you gently in his arms, pulling you flush against his chest.

“feeling better now, brat?“ he teases, his voice still laced with the remnants of his satisfaction. “or do you need some more of daddy's special attention?” he nuzzles into your neck, planting a series of gentle kisses along your sensitive skin. despite the harshness of their lovemaking, there's a tenderness in his touch that speaks volumes about his affection for you.

“you're amazing when you come undone like that,” he murmurs, his hands roaming over your curves with reverence. “always so responsive.”

a contented hum vibrates in your throat as he holds you close, his warm breath ghosting over your skin. the tender kisses he plants on your neck send pleasant shivers down your spine, a stark contrast to the intense passion of mere moments ago.

“i think i might need a little more,” you admit, tilting your head to grant him better access. “just to make sure all that pent-up energy is drained away properly.”

you thread your fingers through his hair, guiding his lips to the crook of your neck where you know he loves to suck and bite. “and maybe some cuddles afterwards,” you add, a playful glint in your eye. you press yourself even closer to him, savoring the solid warmth of his body against yours. your fingers finding his nipple, pinch the hardened bud in between.

a low chuckle rumbles in his chest at your request, his eyes sparkling with amusement. “cuddles, huh? you're really milking this ‘needy’ thing for all it's worth, aren't you?”

he captures your lips in a searing kiss, swallowing your gasp as his tongue delves into your mouth. the nip of his teeth on your bottom lip has you whimpering into the embrace, your fingers tangling deeper in his hair.

breaking the kiss, he trails his lips down your neck, pausing to suck a dark bruise into your skin before moving lower. “as for that pent-up energy,” he murmurs, his hot breath washing over your collarbone, “daddy's got just the thing.”

he drops to his knees, his hands gripping your thighs as he pushes them apart. “spread those pretty legs again for me, sugar.”

[azsazz]

Shots & Spins

Hockey!Azriel x Ice Skater!Reader

Summary: Req from @kristijenner19: I saw you were thinking about hockey!AZ because same. How about a fic where she's a figure skater and they're trying to teach each other their respective sports. Imagine poor Az trying to do a spin/jump/twizzle and a reader who can barely ever make a shot into a goal

Bonus points if they switch their skates and have to re-learn how to skate with the new blade

Warnings: Mild panic attack, mentions of readers injury (torn ACL), trauma from coaches (verbal) mentioned.

Word Count: 3088

Other Fics in the Hockey!Az AU: Penance, Shut Out, Out of Order, All's Well That Ends Well, Brr-eakdown

HOCKEY SZN SOON MY LOVES 💙💙

Notes: I swear I meant to make this cuter but of course, I had to give it some angst 😅

_________________________________________

“What is this?” You question. You’re probably being rude, with your nose scrunched in disgust. With the way you’re holding the pair of skates as far away from your body as possible, you’re pretty sure you look like the biggest bitch on all of campus. But for the life of you, you can’t figure out why Azriel has handed you hockey skates.

“They’re skates,” Azriel answers. You rip your glare from the offending skates at his obvious response. Your heart stumbles in your chest at the sight of his pink lips twitching, begging to reveal that grin he spends most of his time expertly hiding.

You don’t even realize you’re leaning closer in anticipation, so eager to see that smile until the hitch of his breath snaps you back to consciousness.

You rock back on your heels so quickly you nearly tumble over. Would tumble over if it weren’t for Azriel’s quick reflexes, his large hands enveloping your waist and steadying you back on your feet.

“Thanks,” you reply flatly, dipping your chin to the ground to hide your flaming cheeks. There’s not an ounce of amusement in your body.

“You’re welcome.” You don’t like the smugness in his tone or the way he’s playing with you. Tilting your face back up, you muster all the annoyance lancing through your veins at his retort, shooting him the nastiest glare.

“That’s not what I meant, Az, and you know it. Why am I holding a pair of hockey skates?”

Azriel sits on the bench beside the empty arena, and you want to pout. Why would you want to spend any more time at the rink than you already do? You’re bone-fucking-tired and your knee is feeling stiff. You overdid it in practice this week, trying to get back into the shape you were in before the time you’d been forced to take off, and it’s hitting you hard. All you really want to do is crawl home, roll out your muscles, and dive into a pint of Ben & Jerry’s.

When you don’t join Azriel, he says, with a humor you don’t feel, “Don’t tell me you forgot about our little bet. Or how you so gracefully lost it.”

Of course you hadn’t forgotten. Who could forget losing at something as simple as a race across the arena? Afterwards, you tried to blame it on the differences in the ice, how it was colder and harder than you were used to, as it was prepared for the hockey team’s game later that weekend.

A rookie mistake, honestly. One that you’ve been kicking yourself over up until this very moment. Well, if you could kick with your injured leg, that is, you’d be doing just that.

You grind your teeth as a memory rises to the forefront of your mind. Your coach’s voice rings in your head, shrill and reprimanding. Why would you take such foolish chances? You need to get your head in your sport or you’re never going to make it on the Olympic team, let alone the University team.

Shame presses down on you, and your eyes prick at the criticism you should be used to by now. Your private coach from your time before Velaris University, Amarantha, had been very creative with her insults, always coming up with comments worse and harsher to cut down any semblance of confidence you had in your sport.

You bet she’s thrilled that you won’t be back in her presence until you’re healed enough. If you heal enough to relearn the very trick that took you out of the running for the Olympic team in the first place.

It must be a thing, coaches insulting their prodigies. You glance at Azriel from the corner of your eye and wonder if his coach is the same way. If Rhys is brutal with his teammates.

And you hate losing. It was Azriel who you wished forgotten about the bet you’d so stupidly agreed to, but here he is, wearing the same look that got you into this position in the first place.

You take your time studying him as you mull over how to get out of this. Azriel’s broad shoulders take up the space of two people, and his deep, dark hair falls over his brow, growing out into the perfect flow all the players seem to be sporting right now. You wonder if it’s superstition or they actually like the look. His thick lashes sweep as he bats them, and your cheeks take on a pink hue as he pretends to preen under your attention.

“Look,” he all but sighs, giving up his act. He leans back, reaching over to grab something out of sight. When Azriel rightens himself, he holds a pair of figure skates, a sheepish smile on his face. The apples of his cheeks mottle with pink. “I got myself figure skates, so we can both look like fools out there. Together.”

Fuck. The sentiment makes your throat tighten. He doesn’t have to be so damn thoughtful, you’re hardly even friends for Mother’s sake.

“Fine,” you manage when you can speak again. You plop onto the bench beside him. Your knee throbs dully in protest, but it’s nothing you haven’t been able to smother before. You’ve worked through worse conditions than hockey prepped ice, have skated in casts and aches so deep you weren’t sure you’d be able to compete at all if it weren’t for your raw love for the sport and your brutal stubbornness, holding yourself to the highest of standards.

And it’s not like you’re going to be doing your usual tricks. No, that’s all Azriel. All you have to manage is a few forward spirals, twizzles, and perhaps an axel just to show off a little, because there’s no way he’ll be able to recreate all of that in one go.

You just hope your knee stays steady for a few more hours.

The both of you lace your shoes in silence. The hockey skates are so different from your figure skates, you note. The blade is much thicker than you’re used to, more curved too. The boots are shorter, and you grimace at the lack of ankle support.

Not to mention you’re not entirely sure how well you’ll be able to stop without your toe pick.

Azriel leads you to the ice. You step on tentatively, giving the new skates a test. They have a lot more give than you’re used to. They’re not as snug, but easy enough to navigate. Muscle memory kicks in and after a few sluggish runs up and down the ice, you think you’ve gotten the hang of it.

The rest of this bet should be a breeze, especially compared to how Azriel is faring.

His face is contorted with a concentrated frown. He looks stiff as a fucking board, which make you giggle and him complain about. “How the hell do you wear these things? I can barely even move my ankles!”

“Practice makes perfect, young Padawon,” you tease, testing how best to shift your weight on the new blades. The pressure on your knee isn’t terrible, thanks to the looseness of the hockey skates.

“Yeah, yeah,” Azriel waves you off. He trails behind you at a slower rate, focused on getting used to the stiffness of the figure skates on his feet. “Just wait until we scrimmage.”

Ugh, no thanks. This is just perfect for you, the both of you out on the open ice, all alone. You don’t want to ruin this peaceful bliss by bringing your competitive personalities into it.

“I knew if we raced under different conditions I’d have won!” You exclaim, zipping past Azriel again, showing off. He glares playfully, but you’re much too busy admiring your skates to notice the way he’s tucked his lip between his teeth, hiding a satisfied grin.

His toe pick digs into the ice, grinding down as he gets a feeling for the foreign piece, but his eyes stay glued on you.

“Ready for a stick and gloves already, sweetheart?”

“I don’t know,” you throw a smirk back in his direction, crossing your arms over your chest and cocking a brow. “You ready for twizzling?”

“Twizzlers?”

You roll your eyes at his lame joke, but your heart still skips at his wry smile. It’s more than cute. You push off your blade, moving closer to him.

Which is fine, until you try to use your toe pick to stop, only for the realization to hit that there isn’t one on these skates.

You go barreling into Azriel, who catches you in his arms. Your motion throws him off balance and before you even have the chance to squeeze your eyes shut and brace yourself, you’re both falling to the ice.

Azriel hits with a grunt that reverberates through your bones. You’d think that Azriel breaking your landing would be less painful than it is, but with the way the muscle is packed on his body, he’s just as hard as the ice that’s no longer beneath your feet.

“Sorry,” you cringe. It comes out breathless and embarrassment flushes your cheeks, but you’re frozen to your spot and all too aware of how his large, warm hands are wrapped firmly around your waist.

“No worries.” Your lashes flutter as his breathy whisper caresses your face. He’s probably just winded, that’s why he sounds like that. Yes, that’s exactly what it is. “Didn’t think to remind you how to stop.”

“I know how to stop,” you argue, but there’s none of your usual fire tainting the words. You can’t even muster one of your famous glares that you reserve for the normally broody hockey player. You break eye contact as the humiliation begins creeping in. You scratch your nail distractedly down the waffled fabric of his olive colored henley. “I just…forgot, I guess.”

The hitching of his breath in his chest shifts your body and you jolt, the situation slamming into you like a truck.

You scramble off Azriel, grimacing at the sound of your blades clinking against his. His grip loosens, hands falling away as you slip to the ice beside him.

You shoot to your knees, then not-so-carefully climb to your feet. Azriel holds his hands out from where he’s still lying on the ground, like he’s more than ready to catch you again should you fall.

You’re positive the heat of your cheeks could melt the entire arena’s ice right now. You need to get the fuck out of here before you embarrass yourself further. You need to never show your face around here again. You’ve already transferred schools once, what’s one more time?

Azriel calls your name, but you hardly hear him over your racing thoughts. If the sheer embarrassment wasn’t enough, Coach Weaver’s voice now fills the rest of your head, screeching about your recklessness and how you could’ve injured yourself—

He’s quicker than you thought, or you’ve been trapped in your mortified headspace for too long because Azriel’s on his feet, towering over you and pulling you into his chest.

“I’m sorry,” your voice trembles and his hands tighten around you. He lets you bury your face into his chest and pretends not to notice the tears dampening the fabric of his shirt. You’re fucking trembling, and his heart is pounding just as hard.

This is all his fault.

“Breathe, sweetheart, breathe,” he tries to console. He looks around frantically, like one of the sports therapist students or coaches might be walking past the rinks this late at night. There’s no soul in the building besides the both of you, everyone resting for their busy weekends of competitions and away hockey games. “Please.”

You focus on his words, how he guides you, three seconds in, three seconds out. You focus on the soothing patterns he’s drawing down your back, focus on the beating of his heart and latch onto his scent: night-chilled mist and cedar.

“Sorry,” you croak when you finally manage to calm yourself and slide a step back. Your gaze sits pointedly on the ice. You don’t want him to see you like this, a woman who’s about to fucking crumble.

“Don’t be,” Azriel says softly. His hand finds your face, and as much as you don’t want him to, he lifts your chin. You don’t fight it, emotionally exhausted. You should have asked for a raincheck, but you can admit to the fact that Azriel’s gentle touch is a comfort that you can’t help but lean into.

Sad, hazel eyes meet yours. They’re more golden brown than green, a forest of hues backlit by a burst of gold. Your breath hitches as he drags a thumb softly across your lips. They part, even though you don’t mean them to, and the whisper of breath that leaves you passes over his hand, crawls up his arm, and sends shivers down his spine.

“You okay there, sweetheart?”

You’re not sure you can hold yourself together enough to answer his question without completely melting into a puddle at his feet.

Your silence must be answer enough. Azriel takes both of your hands in his own and guides you back toward the bench where you left your shoes. His grip is reassuring, and you’re so tired that you don’t even have it in yourself to sling a witty remark his way.

For what might be the first time in your life, you allow yourself to be taken care of.

You can’t even muster a chuckle at the way he stumbles over the toe pick on his way off the ice, or the way you’re waddling in these skates. You feel anything but graceful and strong right now, but with Azriel’s hand in yours, it’s not as off-putting as you feared it might be.

“Sit,” he says, keeping his fingers clasped around yours as you heed his command. It brings you eye-level to his hands, puckered and pink and scarred to hell. They’re beautiful in every way. He embraces his story, and it’s an incredible strength, one you’re much too terrified of attempting to recreate.

“Azriel, no,” you protest, jolting forward when he lowers himself to his knees before you. You plant your hands on his shoulders, ready to force him away because you’re more than capable of taking your own skates off.

He catches your wrists, and you didn’t think his eyes could soften any more, but they do, and you melt. “It’s okay, sweetheart. Let me take care of this for you.”

You try to swallow past the knot in your throat to thank him but are unable to. Instead, you nod and reluctantly sit back.

Azriel’s gentle with his movements, like you’re a wild doe that he’s helping free from a snare. He unties the tight knots, and your heart pinches when he struggles for a moment. You wouldn’t notice if you weren’t watching so intently, but he doesn’t seem to mind.

Like he knows you need to see this.

You carefully keep your mind from wandering into how good he looks like this before you.

He slips the first skate off, and you stretch your toes. It’s a reflex. Azriel smiles, peeking up at you just in time to catch your blush. His gaze ducks away before you become embarrassed, setting your foot down and holding your other ankle, lifting to get to work.

You hiss softly at the ache in your knee.

“What’s wrong? Did I hurt you?” Concern laces his voice, and you’re quick to reassure him.

“No, no,” you cringe a little at the lingering sting. “It’s nothing.”

“Sweetheart.” Azriel says sternly. Seriously. “That reaction wasn’t nothing. What’s wrong?”

You sigh, defeated in more ways than one. You don’t want to admit that the injury that threw your entire career off-kilter is acting up again. You’d rather not have anyone know.

Perhaps Azriel is different. Or, maybe he’s forcing you, because the gold in his eyes is intense, pinning you to your spot. His mouth is set in a straight, firm line. He looks like he means fucking business.

You avert your gaze. You’ve never admitted defeat like this, but if Azriel can wear his scars so proudly, maybe you can too.

“I tore my ACL a few months ago.” You admit, sniffling. You can feel the shock in Azriel’s gaze, but you refuse to look him in the eye. He’s the first person at this school outside of your coach who’s hearing it. You’ve never been so vulnerable, especially with someone you hardly know. You press on nonetheless. “It’s been fine up until now.” A white lie. “But it’s been a little sore since I started practicing my jumps again.”

“How many months is ‘a few’?” He questions, and he’s not going to like the answer, so you opt for brushing over it.

“I’ll go back to seeing my therapist,” you offer instead, but even you’re not too sure how much truth your words hold.

“Oh, sweetheart,” Azriel says, and you don’t want his sympathy, but you’re too exhausted for your usual anger to stir to life. “You need to take care of yourself, before it gets any worse.”

His sentiment has your nose stinging, eyes prickling once again. What the fuck is wrong with you these days? Get it together, girl. You can cry in your own room, not in front of the hot boy who’s helping you with your godsdamned shoes.

You drag your gaze back to his. “I will.” You think.

He studies you for a moment before nodding, accepting your answer whether he believes it or not. You don’t have it in yourself to care right now. No, you just want to be back in the safety of your dorm.

Azriel is even more careful removing this skate and helping you slip into your shoes. He makes quick work of his own, and while his head is down, you admire his stature. Broad shoulders and chest that tapers into a tight waist, an ass for days.

You’re not done drooling over him when he stands, offering you a hand.

You slip your palm into his, ignoring the electricity that zips down your arm. You’re hyperaware of him by your side, and it’s only when he’s absolutely sure that you’re steady on your feet that he drops your hand.

You try not to feel too disappointed at the loss.

“Let’s get you home, sweetheart,” Azriel offers, and you trail him from the arena, your heart feeling a bit fuller with the nickname.

_________________________________________

Azriel Hockey!AU Tags:

@whyonearthisyourusernamethi-blog @going-through-shit @crazylokonugget @lilah-asteria @girl-who-writes-stuff @moosemahboi @sherayuki @lyinginameadow @acourtofatboydreams @blackthorngirl @shadowsingercassia @evergreenlark @hannzoaks @bloodicka @whyshouldihaveanam3 @elle4404 @cherry-cin @quinzzelx @i-am-infinite @feeriqueivre @blightyblinders @kennedy-brooke @nyxbranwenn @dee-writes-smut @konaanaria13

[the-curious-butterfly]

While it wasn’t quite so early in the morning when the infamous Red of Hearts decided to barge into her office, again, it was around the time Uma was about to sit down and enjoy a quick cup of coffee before the more hectic parts of her day would begin. So perhaps you could forgive her for entertaining the thought of throwing the red head out the window. It was only for a second, she would assure you. As a principle she must not condone violence.

As a pirate, well, that’s different.

But she’s actually gotten quite use to Red coming into her office what feels like every other day, sometimes welcomed sometimes not, always for one reason or another. That a part of her actually kind of expected it.

What she did not expect was for Red to fling/splay herself upon the couch as if she was in a therapy session and for the first words out of her mouth to be. “Chloe won’t kiss me.”

Uma very nearly did a spit take as she placed her mug down upon her desk. “What?” Was the girl really coming to her Principal for relationship advice? Not that she was any bad at it, but really?

Red ignored the sound of Uma nearly choking in favor of her own problems. “At first I thought it was because she didn’t actually like me like that. That she only agreed to date me because I had no experience with love and she felt bad for me. I mean, every time I tried to take our relationship to the next level she always turned away, how could I not think that right?”

“Hmm.”

“Except I finally confronted her about it and you know what she says?”

“I can’t imagine what it could be.” Uma genuinely means that too, everyone knows Chloe really likes Red, like a lot. Whatever is holding her back has to be rather significant.

“She said, I can’t kiss you Red, if I do then I’ll have to marry you.”

Oh hex, Uma should not have tried to take another sip so soon. This time her throat was too preoccupied to even get the word out so she thought it in her head. ‘What?’ Fortunately the lack of response didn’t matter to Red in the least.

“Suffice to say, that really threw me for a loop so I very calmly and gently asked her ‘what the hex are you talking about?’ And her response was ‘that’s how it always happens, Red. Once true loves kiss is shared it’s marriage and happily ever after. Don’t get me wrong, I really like you, and don’t mind at all the thought of marrying you. But we’re only sixteen, and what if you find out being tied down with me is not what you wanted. After all you’re all about-“

“Breaking rules and causing trouble?”

“She used the word freedom.”

“Course she did. Red, did you come to me for reassurance that wedding bells won’t start ringing the second your lips touch your Charming’s?”

Though she provides no response Red gives her a look that is actually rather innocent coming from her, cluing Uma in that she’s on the right track.

“Look, I can’t say that it won’t. She’s right, these fairytales feel like they happen fast. You two have all the makings of a fairytale if I ever saw one, and I was even there to witness Ben and Mal back in the day.” She pauses for a moment as she considers her next words. “But let me ask you something. Would that really be so bad?”

“I’m…not sure.” Red’s response is rather honest and genuine so Uma continues with the same.

“Red, these people didn’t get married because their fairytale told them to. It’s because they loved each other so much that the thought of cementing it in stone, or carving it out into the hull of a ship just felt right.”

Red really looked as if she was truly taking in what Uma was saying…for once.

“Now, to think you’ll be married so soon after your first kiss is a bit of an exaggeration. That kid is surprisingly sheltered for one so good with swords.”

“Tell me about it.”

“But, if it does happen some time in the future. I ask again, would it really be so bad?”

After a moment of thought Red offers Uma a small and genuine smile. “No, I don’t think it would.”

“Now go get that kiss.” Huh, why does that line remind her of something from years ago, royals are so weird. “And for the love of the sea can you please stop breaking into my office with or without me in it!”

“Thanks a lot, Principal Uma, I’ll see you later.” Red calls back as she leaves rather cheerfully, causing Uma to grin despite herself.

“Red of Hearts, I know you heard me.”

….

“Red!”

[annwrites]

trick or treat one-shot collection.

— pairing: jacaerys velaryon x twin!reader

— type: modern!au | (part of a collection)

— summary: jace purchased for you a fun new toy that resembles a jack-o-lantern.

— word count: 1,573

— tags: twincest, oral (f receiving), use of a vibrator, pillow humping, mutual masturbation, handjob, french kissing, lotus position, cumming on stomach, fingering

— tagging list: @emilynissangtr @aemondwhoresworld @cecestea

Once you’ve come in from retrieving the afternoon mail, Jace is almost immediately in your face about it.

“Anything for me?” He asks, towering over you with an eager expression.

You raise a brow as you sift through a couple colored envelopes that look to be junk mail, a postcard from your cousin Laenor with a boat on the front of it, and then you find what Jace must be after: a small black box, wrapped up with tape that has playful pumpkins and candy corn printed along it.

“This?” You ask, gripping it in your hand.

He nods, but you snatch it away as soon as he goes to grab for it, a grin spreading across your lips.

“What do you say?” You ask in a sing-song voice.

He sighs. “Please?”

You pretend to think for a moment, then shake your head, hiding it behind your back. “What do I get if I give it to you?”

He leans over you, pressing the front of his body to yours—his cock jabbing against your stomach.

“What’s inside,” is his simple reply as he yanks it away from you.

Now curious, you follow Jace back to your bedroom, and he nods for you to shut the door behind you.

You do so, watching as he takes a box cutter from a cup that hangs on the pegboard mounted over your desk, and he cuts the small package open.

He dumps the contents of it onto your bed, and you pad closer, looking it over with furrowed brows.

There’s a small instruction booklet, and another even smaller box.

He opens said box, then pops open plastic packaging before dangling something round, orange, and rubber—or maybe silicone—in front of your face. And then he twirls it around with his fingers, and the face of a jack-o-lantern greets you with a smile.

From the tail he’s holding, you’re fairly sure you know what it is.

“A vibrator, Jace?”

He takes a step closer to you. “What? You don’t like it?”

You take it from him, looking it over. And then you click a small button and it lights up and begins to vibrate in your hand, confirming your suspicions.

You glance back to your twin brother.

He nods to your bed. “Lie down.”

You do as he says and he leans over you, hooking his fingers under the waistband of your leggings before tugging them down your legs.

You get to work on removing your shirt and bra, dropping them onto the floor, then spread your legs.

 Jace sits on the edge of your bed and runs his fingers between your folds.

You sigh, throw your head back against your pillows, and he begins to circle your clit with his index and middle finger, and your body jerks in response.

You bite your lower lip, quietly whimpering, and Jace runs his other hand down between your breasts before gripping you beneath one of your thighs. He then grabs your other hip as well, and pulls you closer to the edge of your bed before he kneels on the floor and shoves his face between your legs.

Your eyes flutter closed while you lace your fingers in his curls, pulling him impossibly closer to your hot, pulsating core.

Your twin moans, sucking on your clit, pushing his own pants down to free his throbbing erection.

“Jaaaace,” you drawl, arching your back, grinding your pussy against his mouth and he smirks, kissing your lips before spreading them with his fingers so he can tease you with the tip of his tongue.

It’s when he has you panting and gasping for breath that he finally stops.

Jace stands, and pushes his own pants down his legs before stepping out of them.

He grabs your new toy and rubs it against your dripping entrance before gently easing it inside of you.

Once it’s disappeared entirely—only the silicone tail visible—he grabs the tiny remote that came with it, and he switches it on before adjusting the vibration settings.

He sets it to intermittent, which causes it to buzz for a few seconds before pausing, then pulsating inside of you.

You tangle your fingers in your hair and Jace seats himself on your desk chair, watching you while he strokes his long, weeping cock.

“Oh, God, Jace…” You whisper, keeping your legs spread impossibly wide so he can have the privilege of watching you.

You turn onto your stomach, arch your ass, and shove your face into a pillow while you moan in pleasure.

Jace leans forward, staring at your pussy, pressing the remote again, and the vibration ramps up.

You clench the pillows under you, wiggling your ass, desperate for him.

“You never told me whether you like your present.”

You’re practically drooling when you turn your head and whimper your reply. “I love it.”

He grins. “I can tell.”

You sink down onto the mattress again, shove a pillow between your legs, and you begin to grind against it, wanting for relief, but also wanting to make you and your older brother’s fun last.

Jace lowers the intensity of the toy and you groan in irritation.

You sit up then, keeping the pillow between your legs, and you turn around to him.

You watch him while he watches you, and the two of you can’t help but smile at how naughty what you’re doing really is. But that’s what makes it such a treat.

Curls fall down your naked back while you bite your lip, staring at his cock, before gazing into his eyes.

He stands, padding toward you, and he cups your cheek. “You want to come?”

You nod fervently—your clit now swollen and pulsing from how good it all feels.

He gently pushes you back, tossing your pillow aside, and he lies his body atop yours, rubbing his cum-soaked tip against your pubic mound.

He ramps the vibrator all the way to its highest setting then before pushing the remote onto the floor and crushing his lips to yours.

You reach down, take his cock in one of your hands, and stroke him rapidly.

You wrap your legs around his back, whimpering and whining all the while—kissing him sloppily with plenty of tongue as your free hand roams along his naked form.

He toys with your breasts, runs his hands down your thighs, tugs gently on the tail of the vibrator, then cups your face in his hands while he kisses you passionately before he finally sits up.

He pulls you into his lap and wraps his hand around yours which holds his cock, helping you help him.

Sitting at a new angle shifts the toy inside of you and you gasp loudly, nodding your head while you tangle your fingers in his hair. “Right there. It’s good. So good.”

You press your lips back to his, so, so close to orgasming.

Jace’s cock twitches in your hand and the two of you smile slightly against one another’s lips at the feel.

“Where d’you want me to cum?” He drawls.

“All over me,” you whisper with a giggle.

You bite his lower lip gently, then suck on his tongue, wishing it were his cock buried in your mouth instead—cumming down your throat when he finally reaches his finish.

Maybe you’ll try those new flavored condoms he bought soon so you can happily drool all over him.

You move your lips lower, kissing his neck while he wraps his arms around you, holding you close, and you move your mouth higher, kissing his forehead while you push hair away from his face.

He slides his hands down to your ass, smacking it gently, and you begin to rock your hips, clenching tightly around your brand new toy, knowing you’re nearly there.

Jace’s balls begin to tighten and he pulls away, pressing his forehead to yours. “I’m about to.”

“Me too,” you whisper between wanton whines.

You lie back then and Jace takes himself solely in-hand, stroking furiously overtop of you.

His head is thrown back, and his eyes are closed while sweat beads on his forehead.

You reach down, circling your clit, running your palm down, along the coarse, dark hair that litters his thigh.

“Cum on me, Jace. Please. Please cum all over me. I want it so bad.”

He nods, biting his lips. “Fuck—nearly. God…”

And then he lets out a long, deep sigh and warm, thick cum begins to spurt out the tip of his red cock, landing on your stomach.

You start to giggle happily before throwing your own head back—moaning his name while you orgasm.

You squeeze so tightly around it that your vibrator pops out, landing on your duvet.

Jace quickly kneels yet again, pulling you roughly toward him while he grabs either side of your labia, spreading it apart so he can watch as your cunt contracts wildly.

Once it's begun to calm, he shoves his face back between your legs, licking you, drinking your juices, shoving his fingers between your tight, squishy walls.

You’re only able to bear it for a moment before you ask him to stop.

“Jace, stop. It’s too…too sensitive. Mm, please.”

He kisses your inner thighs lovingly then, his own cock no longer twitching and straining.

He lies down next to you and pulls you into his side.

“At least I know it was worth every penny now,” he mumbles into your hair.

You nod, smiling contently. “It was.”

[aena1179]

FOR THE FIRST TIME, I WANTED SOMEONE’S COMPANY OUTSIDE OF MY OWN

✎ ׂ╰┈➤

Levi x fem!reader

(A/N): Apologies this isn’t the most romantic fic ever, this is my first time writing for levi/my first fic ever ^^ Sorry its a bit long!!!

But please enjoy!! ╰ (´꒳`) ╯💕

Summary:after a long day of training you can’t seem to fall asleep. Deciding to take a walk to fall asleep, you find levi in the library awake and decide to join in on his alone time. The strict Captain Levi, finds himself feeling unfamiliar feelings towards you.

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

It’s been a couple months since you officially became a scout in the survey corps. Luckily for you, your hard work and efforts had reflected greatly. With that, you had been granted a position within the Levi squad. After demonstrating your skills in combat as well as cooperation with your colleagues, it didn’t take long for the captain to notice.

It was a busy day and you’d just returned back with the captain and his squad. After going outside the walls for a long excruciating day of training, the all you could think about was sleep.

Dragging your feet back to your own room, your muscles ached from the ODM gear. Reaching down, you massage your own sore calves with your hand before taking off your boots and the rest of your uniform; dressing in something more casual. You eye your bed practically collapsing in it, not even bothering to pull the covers up. You close your eyes hoping to get some sleep before you have to go through the same hell the next day.

…

A few minutes go by before turning into ten minutes. Then into twenty. Then to an hour…. The whole time, you toss and turn trying to get your restless body to sleep.

“Damn it…”

You toss and turn for a few more minutes deciding whatever is keeping you awake isn’t going to let up anytime soon.

Sitting up now, you turn to your door glancing at it. Maybe if you just walked around a bit, that could get you drowsy enough to finally want to rest. You sit up heading towards the door, putting on more comfortable shoes before heading out.

Opening the door, you walk out into the hallway. As expected, the dimly lit space is empty. What is usually bustling with other scouts and conversations is still at this hour. Not a single person in sight as most people had retired to their rooms at this hour.

Walking down the halls, the sounds of crickets chirp outside, the moonlight seeping in through the windows spaced out throughout the hallway. As you walked, throughout the halls, you see a dim light leak out from the library.

“Did someone seriously leave their lantern and forget about it?”

You walk closer to the library in a couple strides seeing the door slightly creaked open. Deciding to go in and shut the lantern off yourself, you open the door. Just as you open it, your eyes meet a small table where a teacup was placed a long with a chair accompanied by a body.

“Captain?”

Your eyes catch his as he glances up from his book. The hues of his eyes illuminated by the lantern’s light, his expression unable to read.

“You’re up late.” you say surprised to see the captain up at such an hour. Isn’t he tired from training everyone today? Why is he in the library? *Does* this guy ever sleep?

Levi sighs, putting his book down before he glances back at you.

“I can say the same about you. Is there a reason you’re wondering the halls this late?” he questions you furrowing his brows.

“I couldn’t sleep.” you respond honestly.

“So you decide to bother me?” he says looking at you with a slight frown.

You clear your throat shaking your head.

“Well honestly, no. I just saw a light coming from here and I thought someone lousily left it on—went to go shut it off.” you motion to the lamp.

Levi sits silently for a moment, taking a sip of his tea before he responds. This time, more of a light response escapes his lips.

“Well, I guess everyone has their moments of restlessness.”

Levi’s mind conjures for a moment as he looks at you. “Would you like to sit down?” his offer seeming sudden.

“You want me to join you?” you’re surprised the captain offers you such; feeling a bit bad for protruding on his alone time.

“Well it’s better than you standing in the middle of the room” he says with a monotone voice.

I laugh slightly, more awkwardly than anything. Walking over to him, I take a seat in the other chair divided by the small table.

“What’s the book you’re reading?” you ask looking at novel by him. In which he picks back up, handing it to you in silence for you to read the back.

“Nothing really interesting then?” you say with a more amused tone.

“Nothing in here is honestly.” he says, tone slightly more relaxed. “Anything worth reading wouldn’t be in here. Tch. Guess the regiment has more important things to spend the shitty budget on.”

You laugh entertained by his remarks.

“It’s not that bad.”

Levi shoots you a look saying otherwise. His expression saying “Really?”

Theres a bit of an awkward silence after, levi takes another sip of his tea. You twiddle your thumbs looking around the room, setting the book he handed you from your lap back on the table.

During the silence you glance when he reaches for his teacup. His eyes look tired, yet he’s still up right now. The light contours his face, etching his features. His raven black hair absorbs the light, strands fallen in front of his face. A strong, yet soft look to his appearance.

…

“Why couldn’t you sleep?” his voice interrupts the silence as he sets his cup back down looking at you.

“I’m not sure, maybe it’s whats in the air tonight. My body is exhausted from the training, I don’t know why I can’t get myself to fall asleep.” you explain rubbing the back on your neck.

“Hm.” he responds. “You wouldn’t be as sore if you were landing right with your feet.” you feel his gaze drop to your legs, pointing to then same aching area where you massaged earlier. “You put some much pressure onto your feet when you land, too stiff. I know you know how to maneuver good in ODM gear. However, with too much tension..you’re eventually going to hurt yourself.”

He looks back up at you. He sees your expression after he explained to you your efforts. His eyes search yours before he speaks again.

“You’re sore aren’t you?” he says as if reading your mind.

Your shoulders slump as he looks right through you. And you nod reluctantly admitting it. Which in return, earns you a shake from levi’s head to your response and a sigh.

“Aside from that,” he pauses. “you did good today. You worked well with everyone and used your gas sparingly.” he says cutting you slack.

You smile. “Thank you captain.”

“Don’t let it get to your head.” he says quickly following.

Laughing, you look at him smiling before you open your mouth to speak again. “I think it got to my head.”

“Hmph.” he looks over at you and your overly confident face. Some brat.

He goes to take another sip from his cup, realizing it’s empty. He places it back down, where he glances a glimpse of your smile. Something about it flashes to him for a second that tugs his strings. Immediately disregarding it, he glances away calmly.

“So, whats your reason for not sleeping?” you ask making conversation.

“I never can sleep.” he replies shortly. “And when I can, it’s only a few hours.”

You frown again from hearing him explain his situation. His response drawing close to chalking it up to insomnia. “That sounds like hell, I’m sorry captain.”

He shrugs. “Nothing to do about it, it’s fine.”

“No it isn’t.” you object looking at him concerned.

Levi looks at your expression, seeing your brows contorted to worry makes him feel kind of guilty for sharing it. His mind is not sure why he would care so much.

Before you try and lecture him on sleep, you close your lips. You feel bad trying to fight him on something that isn’t your issue, adjusting in your seat. “I probably shouldn’t even be talking— you move to cross your leg over the other while adjusting in your seat accidentally bumping the table.

In a flash, your actions bump the empty cup off the table causing it to come crashing to the ground. Your eyes widening.

Shit.

Standing up you apologize frantically to Levi as he look’s at his favorite teacup, now shattered on the ground. He himself getting up. His expression not amused.

“Im so sorry—sir I didn’t mean to do that! Shit-i’m so..so sorry.” you move to pick up the pieces hurriedly.

You pick them up one by one into your hand, looking around for somewhere to dump them before he places his hand on your shoulder. You look across to him. He’s crouching down to pick them up with you.

You hear him sigh before he says with a tone that doesn’t give away any anger or frustration. “It was an accident. Don’t just freak out and pick them up like that, idiot.”

He walks over to grab an old bucket across the library halfway full of old crumbled papers. Walking back over, he crouches down with the bucket. “In here.” his tone flat.

You mutter a quiet thank you, picking up a large shard. You think to yourself, “Of course, too tired to not bump your captain’s favorite cup off a table, but not tired enough to go to bed earlier. None of this would have happened.”

“Don’t.”

“What?” you say coming back from your thoughts. “

“It happened. It was just a cup. Don’t sit there sulking about it.” he says almost in a…comforting way?

I nod picking the last piece up.

They say lighting doesn’t strike twice yet, here you are on the world’s shittiest luck streak. Stupidly, picking it up the shard by the sharp end. It slices through tip of your finger open;the slit bleeds from flesh color to a red hue, as a bead of blood drips from the newly opened cut on your finger. Causing you to drop the shard back onto the wooden floor of the library.

Levi watches as you do so, his expression changes from unreadable to a flash of concern as he puts the bucket down.

“Okay, stop.” he says picking the shard into the bucket himself placing the bucket down behind him. “Now you *are* tired.”

“I was just not looking it’s fine.” you say backing yourself up but also feeling a tinge of embarrassment.

Your wrist is grabbed.

You watch as his hand reaches out for yours grasping your wrist, his other hand going for his cravat. He turns your hand over looking at the finger bleeding. The moment between the two of you silent.

“What are you-hey I can do that myself I don’t need your help-

“I don’t really care if you can do it on your own.” he says as he dabs at your finger wrapping the cloth around it.

You look at him tending to your cut, your cheeks dust a light pink as you look away. His hand gently is gripping yours still. Eventually pulling away as he stops the bleeding.

“Thank you… captain.” you say quietly.

“Levi.” he says softly. “Just, Levi.”

Your cheeks burn red, Levi noticing the change, lingers on your face with his eyes for a moment and then stands back up.

You stand up yourself, looking at the bucket and then back to him. “I should try and sleep again.”

Levi looks down at your hand still slightly bothered by the cut, confused in his mind as to why. Then, back at you. “That would be a good idea. I’ll probably do the same.”

You feel a bit awkward leaving, apologizing again for the cup and making your way to the door.

Before you leave, he looks at you and the words spill out of his mouth.

“Try and actually sleep this time.” he says quietly. “I expect you up early for tomorrow mornings training. And..”

He pauses.

“Don’t hurt yourself.” his tone soft.

I look at him smiling gently, waving. “You too. Try to sleep.”

He nods.

“Goodnight.” he says softly.

“Goodnight cap-goodnight, Levi.” you say, his name, thinking of how it slides off your tongue easily. You feel your stomach swirl a bit thinking it’s just because you’re tired.

“God, i’m not going to kill you for saying my name. You can relax saying it.” he says slightly fond of hearing you say his name. His face remaining straight.

You smile feeling a bit better leaving after he says that to you. Waving again, you walk off towards your room for the night leaving levi along again in the library.

Levi stands where he is for a moment before thinking. His eyes a bit softened along with his whole face. Was he too harsh? Why did it matter? Why is he still thinking about it, stop it.

He looks at the bucket seeing the shards, thinking about his cup. He knows he should be upset by his cup breaking still, and while he is a bit disappointed by the inconvenience. He can’t find any annoyance behind the thought.

The silence in the room pours back in reminding him, he’s free to his alone time again. Only now, the silence is what irritates him. Thoughts flood his mind thinking back to you breaking the cup and instead of any anger, he thinks about your face. Your features. Those features that claw into his consciousness making him feel a way he doesn’t like. The tugging feeling returns to him in his chest and he feels *his* very own face heating up, very slightly.

You had dug into the captain’s head. Planting the seed of alternate feelings towards you.

Looking one last time at the bucket and then to a small window in the library. He stares into the mixture of stars in the sky.

“For the first time, I wanted someone’s company outside of my own.”

…

“And I don’t hate that feeling.”

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

[stellocchia]

I like thinking that there would be some moments of softness between Nightmare's henchmen when they're still living at the castle. Not necessarily the usual kind of softness but just things like:

Horror holding Killer's soul in his ribcage when he's feeling too vulnerable (perhaps because Nightmare messed with his soul). Horror is built differently from monsters from other AUs, he's more corporeal and he's basically already dead, so, while it's unpleasant, he can still handle holding the excess determination inside

Cross holding back his hits during training if he notices that whoever he's training had a bad pain day. Perhaps even insisting on the importance of training their aim and magic control instead if Nightmare's around, so he doesn't have to fight them at all

Dust building himself a makeshift lab in the dungeon so he can make pain medications and then giving them to the others in exchange for a favor down the line (usually the favor is not to bother him that day)

Killer stealing things that are not strictly necessary for their survival but that will help or at least boost the morale of the others. He gets Dust earplugs so he can properly decompress when things get too overwhelming. He steals chocolate for Cross whenever he can. He always makes sure there is food on the table for horror and still to keep his axe from getting all rusty

I don't think they'd necessarily be the types to cuddle together in a corner, or something like that. But I like to think that, finding themselves in such a shitty situation all together, they'd bond. Call it trauma bonding if you will.

Their soft moments are them silently sitting in the same room, each doing their own thing. It's them taking responsibility for mistakes that weren't theirs. It's them teaching each other how to survive. It's them going hungry if they see that someone else needs that food more. It's them sleeping in shifts so the others can be guarded.

It's them just coexisting while not choosing kindness, but getting very close to it.

[wings-of-ink]

One day MC walks up to their RO and asks: "Why do you think I love you?" What are the responses from Oswin and Rune? (Relationship stage)

Oh that is such a good question, Anon. Oof, the two that might have the hardest time with it too. Going to go with a semi-early relationship, say, within the first couple years for this. For all the characters there is an element of healing that they need. This question for these two ROs would be most impactful (emotional and hard to answer) earlier on in the relationship when they are very much still healing. This would be a good exercise for them to help healing, I think...so maybe a couple mini POVs are in order for this one. ^_^

Oswin:

He freezes.

You give him a moment to collect his thoughts, but find the moment doesn't quite pass. Oswin just stares at you. Gently, you cup his cheek in your hand, and he snaps from his stupor.

"You okay?" you ask.

He nods.

"Let's sit." You guide him to the seat by the fire as it crackles and pops. Instead of taking the seat opposite him, you kneel down and hold his hands upon his lap, staring into his eyes. You had a feeling he'd struggle with this.

He clears his throat. "The uh, floor is cold, love. Here, you sit, I'll-"

"Why do you think I love you?" you ask again. He won't get out of this again.

He breath stammers. He leans back in the chair and raises his gaze to the ceiling.

"I know you're still working on how you feel about everything, but I want you to really think about that and give me an honest answer."

Oswin sighs, turning his gaze from the ceiling back to you. His eyes are misty. "That's just it, I don't know what to think." His voice breaks around the words. "Most days I don't know why you want to love someone like me."

You nod. "But you let me, don't you? And I know you, Twinflower; you'd never let me love you if you didn't-"

He scoffs. "That's because I'm selfish."

You fix him with a slightly stern look. "I'm waiting for my answer. The real answer."

His bottom lip quivers for just a moment before he bites it. He takes a few minutes to consider his words. "I...think...I think you, um-love me because...you have a good heart."

You snort and pinch his thigh in the spot that makes him jump.

Even he can't remain serious at the sensation as he jerks and chuckles. "I'm not done...I'm getting there."

"Mm-hmm," you say.

"...It's because of your good heart...that you see...you see me at my best."

You nod.

"You see that...you don't see all the horrible things that I see in me."

You nod again. "So what are those things that I see that you don't? Why do I love you Oswin Twinflower?"

His legs begin to bounce in place, trying to soothe his discomfort. He takes a deep breath. "Um...I think you see, despite everything, loyalty." Another shaky breath. "Maybe you like the old pieces of me - from when we were kids...the parts of me that are still carefree, that laugh easy. And I think...I think you like that I'm grumpy though too..." He trails off, his legs still bouncing. His eyes glance to you, but can't hold your gaze for very long at a time.

"Good." You smile. "That's good Oswin, you're doing so well. There are so many reasons that I love you, and one day you're going to know them all by heart."

A strangled sob escapes his lips.

Rune:

Rune fumbles the freshly washed and dried cups at your question. They clatter and roll along the counter. You briefly catch the flicker of surprise on Rune's face before they snatch up the cups and right them next to the other clean dishes.

Turning back to the sink, Rune carries about the task of rinsing and drying the remaining dinnerware that you have washed. "What do you mean?" They ask.

"It's not a trick question or anything," you say. "I just want you tell me why you think I love you."

Rune chuckles in the way you've come to know as a sign that they are uncomfortable. "It doesn't matter why, just that you do." Rune turns and gives you a placating smile before turning their back again and focusing on the dishes.

"That may be true to a point, but not why I asked and you know it." You watch them a moment. You worry. Rune is not typically unnerved so quickly, and they have always been forthright about your relationship. You've had the feeling recently that a heaviness has been on Rune's heart, old wounds opening back up.

You come up to the sink and watch Rune dry the same plate they've been working on for the last few minutes. "Hun, I think it's dry."

Rune snaps to attention again. "Oh, yes - of course."

"Do you want me to finish up?" you ask.

"Oh, no sweet one. It's my turn and you cooked...I want to finish up. Get settled in the den why don't you. I'll be there shortly."

You nod and make your way there to settle on the couch. If there is one thing you have learned about being Rundis Lyreheart's lover and partner, it is that the more space you give them, the closer they come. Rune always hears you and always pays attention even when it may seem like you're being ignored. You could ask your question again, but that would be pushing. You trust that Rune will answer.

In just a few moments, Rune joins you, removing the smock they use for kitchen duty and hanging it to dry by the fireplace. You chuckle when you realize it is nearly soaked through. You wonder if Rune will ever be able to take care of the dishes and end up dry at the end.

They settle next to you, and you realize they've brought the lyre. Rune looks at you deeply with those bright purple eyes you've come to love so much.

They sigh. "I am sorry that I tried to avoid your question earlier."

You nod. "It's okay. You do that sometimes."

Rune quirks an eyebrow at you.

You shrug. "You deflect the really hard stuff, and then you circle back later after you've had some time to think."

They cover their face with a hand. "Blessed Casimir, you really know me..."

You cannot help the smug smile on your face.

Rune takes a deep breath. "I can't answer your question, not without...some time - not with words. But...I can answer, with this." They hold the lyre up. "If you'll indulge a song."

"Always." You settle back in your seat.

After a few practice notes, Rune begins to pluck the strings in earnest. The melody fills the house, starting off slow, sweet and soft before it becomes...darker, more somber. Rune meets your eyes and smiles as the tune lifts, bringing happy energy to the undercurrent of dark notes. You can't wait to see how the song grows and changes...

[tarotofhope]

PAC: 「What's your working style?」

(Please Read My Pinned post *IMPORTANT NOTE* before selecting a Pile)

Pick an Image by meditating and selecting the image you feel called to. You can be attracted towards more than 1 image. If you are not able to select maybe this reading isn't for you.

Pile 1

Cards: The Devil, The Star, Death, The Empress Reversed, Wheel of Fortune and The Magician.

Welcome to your reading, Pile 1. You are married to your work and you're a hard worker. You're very goal oriented and ambitious. Whatever you're working towards is not only work for you but much greater than that. Your work is your passion, your religion, your God. You even have good leadership qualities. You know how to give and earn respect. Even when you guys retire, you would still do some or the other thing as work. You just can't sit idle. You value money and you use your money wisely. I can also see one more thing here, you guys have this drive for becoming something in this world, doing something effective, having an impact, leaving a legacy. You guys are like a magnet for power and money just because you have a strong drive for work and you strive hard to achieve your goals. For a few of you, this could be the case that you had to take responsibilities at an early age because one of your parent passed away or you were stripped off of your financial support by your parents/guardian. You have good businessmanship and a lot of creative abilities. You want to become independent in your life and stand on your own two feet.

That's all I got for you, my dear Pile 1. Love, light, peace and hope to you..🌸🍁🌻🌼

Pile 2

Cards: Queen of Swords, The Hermit, The Tower, The Fool, Ace of Pentacles and 9 of Pentacles.

Welcome to your reading, Pile 2. You do your own thing and you don't like to follow any set rules or regulations. You might appear cold and tough and you somehow also know how to get other people to work for you if you want to. You have a lot of experience in life and you could be a street smart too. There could be a phase in your life(this could be your past, present or future because many people are reading this) where you had a huge financial loss and then you had to start from scratch and earn for your living and then become financially stable and satisfied. Yes, financial stability and satisfaction with material possessions is there but it will come after a lot of struggle. Whatever I said in the starting 2-3 sentences about your nature of work could be something which came after your struggle. You have learnt a lot from your struggles and that has shaped you the way you are. You are someone who would take the leap of faith, manifest a tower moment(sudden and drastic ups and downs) so that change can enter your life. You are not afraid of changes, you invite them..😉

That's all I got for you, my dear Pile 2. Love, light, peace and hope to you..🌸🍁🌻🌼

Pile 3

Cards: The Hierophant, Temperance, 5 of Swords, 7 of Wands, King of Cups and Knight of Wands.

Welcome to your reading, Pile 3. You have a great desire to follow your passion or maybe you wish you had more talents and choices in your life because you look stuck in a traditional work environment. You think you'd have your own working style if you had the opportunity to work on your own but somehow you're trapped in a normal office type job or traditional work style where there is less to no scope for creativity and personal growth and you have to follow certain rules and fulfil certain criterias. Maybe you feel stuck in a boring 9 to 5 job. This is also because of necessity, you need to pay bills and this and that, so what else you could have done? But there is this strong desire to do your dream job which is not like your normal office job. Either you are doing something as a side hustle but you earn very little from it and you want to make big in it but you also have a main job which gives you good enough money to pay your bills but you're not happy with it. There's this constant struggle to strike a balance. You don't get much time with your family due to this job and also very less holidays/vacations. There's a lot of judgement and competition at your workplace, ranks, scores and a hierarchical management which you're tired of. You don't want any of this. You want to reach at a level where you're emotionally satisfied in your work, where there is less stress and pressure.

That's all I got for you, my dear Pile 3. Love, light, peace and hope to you..🌸🍁🌻🌼

Pile 4

Cards: The High Priestess, The Sun, Page of Swords, The Magician, Empress and Knight of Cups.

Welcome to your reading, Pile 4. Looks like you're doing what your heart desires and something which pile 3 dreams of. You're very fortunate and blessed, pile 4. Your job has that proper balance of work and relaxation, work and creativity. I'm not saying that your job is easy or you don't work hard or work enough, it's just that your work is so full of creativity and enjoyment that you'd happily put more hard work in it. You'd happily and willingly struggle in it. You might feel very independent and free because of your work. You might also be very protective of your job, I mean to say that people get jealous of your job easily, whether or not you earn much from it, whether or not you're successful in it, I can see that people just couldn't digest your enjoyment and excitement which is associated with your work because they don't get to do the same. So, you could be wearing some evil eye protection talisman or bracelet/ring. The best part of your job is that you don't have to follow strict rules and regulations, you're mostly free to do your own thing. You could be into creative fields of work and you're doing this because people are known by the kind of job they're into and you want to attract like-minded people or you want to help other people who are less fortunate in regards to creative work.

That's all I got for you, my dear Pile 4. Love, light, peace and hope to you..🌸🍁🌻🌼

Pile 5

Cards: 9 of Swords, 9 of Pentacles, King of Wands, King of Pentacles, King of Cups and 6 of Pentacles.

Welcome to your reading, Pile 5. You could be into service related jobs mostly which involves doing a lot of charity and helping the needy. You don't want to see people struggling like you did in your past. Your job gets a lot of criticism by people because maybe you get to earn very little from it or because people don't understand your job, but you're happy and people don't see this. For some of you, this work could make you successful in future but it's a very slow and steady process so again people don't see any value in your work. You might be doing something unconventional and different, so you might not be supported at home too, so you're very protective of this job. Whatever you're doing is either within a community or a one man show, nothing in between. You serve a variety of people/customers involving foreigners too. You're very satisfied and content with this job and nobody can change your mind with their worldly philosophies. There is 9 of pentacles after the 9 of swords which can indicate that you got this job after a lot of struggle and bad experiences, this could be something very unattainable to you earlier, but you fought for it, worked hard for it and now you're not going to leave it. Maybe you're constantly trying to prove your worth and the value of your work, pile 5. You don't have to. The right people will admire you for your work and will also understand and respect your work choice.

That's all I got for you, my dear Pile 5. Love, light, peace and hope to you..🌸🍁🌻🌼

Thank you so much for being here. I post PAC readings every Tuesday and Friday. Do love and support by reblogging, liking or following.

——————————— ♡ ♡ ♡ ———————————

[kurishiri]

william v.s. darius . . . william rex epilogue 🌹

— this translation may not be 100% accurate or contain creative liberties due to characterization or narrative flow purposes. if you enjoy, please consider reblogging, but don’t repost these or claim these as your own!

— cw: very suggestive scenes that are awkwardly translated. also i translated this at 1am; you've been warned lmao

Kate: So we’re going shopping!

William: That we are. It’s become less crowded now, which would make it the ideal time for window shopping, right?

W: Let’s choose something together. One that would suit you.

Unlike the lively buzz of the street fair, where many people had gathered,

here, we didn’t have to worry about our surroundings, so we could walk at our own pace.

(Will knew that, so he invited me here.)

(…And the fact I could spend time together with him like that was a delightful reward as well.)

William: That outfit looks charming. It seems like it would fit your air.

Kate: Wah, this looks wonderful! It goes well with the skirt next to it too.

I was happy at how we walked side by side as well, in a good mood, and——

Kate: …Could we hold hands?

William: What a coincidence. I was just thinking the same.

When his beautiful fingers touched mine, our fingers intertwined together.

Kate: Hehe, thank you.

I squeezed his hand back, when…

Kate: Ah.

As if being led away, my eyes stopped on something,

with that something being a crimson red ribbon that went with a dress that left quite an impression.

When William followed my gaze, he narrowed those red eyes.

William: Indeed, I can easily imagine you in that.

W: Then, this dress is for you.

—— Time skip; William’s room ——

Kate: …How does it look?

I tried on the dress that I had gotten as a present as soon as we returned.

In response, Will, who was sitting on the sofa, narrowed his eyes, making their way from the top of my head to my toes.

William: Would you mind spinning around for me?

Kate: Like this?

When I did as I was told, the crimson ribbon fluttered.

William: It does suit you.

Kate: Thank you. Then I’ll be wearing this on our next date.

I looked down at myself, biting down on the feeling that sprung from within me,

when I realized the way he was looking at me.

His gaze on me seemed to hold a bewitching smile,

and I felt a familiar twinge that had been locked within me resurface.

Kate: …Will.

I found myself drawn to him, until I stood right across.

Kate: I want you to kiss me.

William: ——Then come here, my robin.

With that invitation, I sat atop his legs, and when our faces drew together, close enough where I could feel his breath…

His hands caressed my cheeks.

Those eyes, the color of blood, held a hint of amusement.

Kate: …Don’t keep me in suspense like that.

William: Hehe, my apologies.

W: I simply wanted to see more of you being honest with your desires.

Becoming more excited with how his fingers teased my lips, I took his finger into my mouth. [1]

William: ……… [surprised]

W: Pfft, haha. It makes me happy that you’d like to have a taste of my fingers as well.

W: But then you won’t be able to kiss me like that, right?

Kate: Ah…

Withdrawing his thumb, half-open lips met with one impatient for a kiss.

Kate: Mn…

His tongue slipped in, giving me a numbing sensation as they playfully intertwined together——

And when he let go, he gave a small smile.

William: …You are free to decide what it is your heart seeks and what you would like to do.

Kate: …I know.

William: And perhaps your heart may change. Our feelings can’t be restricted, nor should they ever be.

W: Of course, not by others, and not even by ourselves.

Kate: …So that is to say,

K: I am free to do as my heart wants. And even in this very moment [2], I love you, Will.

William: Yes, I figured as much.

Kate: Huh?

William: Your heart is close to mine, and we are not separated in the slightest.

W: That is how my heart feels——at any moment in time.

Kate: Will…

My lover before my eyes seemed to always, no matter in which moment in time, take pleasure in unraveling what was in my heart.

Feeling this, I…

Kate: If we stack even these smallest moments… they can become an eternity.

William: …Indeed.

Our lips met once more, being fondled affectionately in my mouth.

William: And I would like to have a taste of you, to my heart’s content.

W: If it is as you say, and these small moments can become an eternity… I would like to embody it.

Kate: …Will…

When I kissed him, he sought me deeper.

William: Should we take it to the bed? Or…

Kate: …Haa… I want more… like this…

William: …I imagine it would be quite frustrating to move, after all.

With the ribbon of the dress undone, my chest relaxed [3].

As if the wrapping of the present was removed, my skin was now exposed,

and my nipples gave way to my desire.

William: …Kate.

With his lips calling my name, his tone filled with emotion, pleasure rushed through me.

William: Could I engrave my feelings in you?

He sucked on my breasts, leaving a mark as red as his eyes.

The throbbing in my core excited me and trickled within me,

and I welcomed his palm as it slid in——

While indulging in the sweet excitement he gave me, I tasted the pleasure of this small moment in time.

Fin.

will vs darius jude vs nica alfons vs ring

← prev fin

NOTES:

[1] I wasn’t sure how to phrase this; part of it may be like midnight or 1am translating, but I also wasn’t completely sure how to translate this part of the line [その指先をはむりと含んだ] (sono yubisaki wo hamuri to fukunda) as well. So I’m mostly kind of guessing based on the context of the lines that come after.

[2] Kate uses the word [刹那] (setsuna) here, which means a moment or instant, though this particular word, unlike another similar meaning word, [瞬間] (shunkan), [刹那] is derived from the Sanskrit word kshana, which in Buddhism refers to the “shortest possible interval of time.”

[3] They say here [胸元が緩む] (munamoto ga yurumu), where [胸元] refers to like the chest or breast area (but can also mean the solar plexus), while [緩む] means like to loosen, slacken, relax, that kind of thing, both for tangible things like parts of the body and intangible things like rules. I’m not really sure exactly how to translate this, but it’s probably referring to how a woman’s breasts are bare, without the support of anything like a bra.

END NOTES: the difference between will and darius' end was interesting, like how they both treated the boy. they're probably trying to hit home the differences between them... which darius seemed to pick up on. i wouldn't say i'm very good at translating william, per se, but i did enjoy his story as well, and just the way he spent time with kate and darius! i feel they highlighted a lot of characteristics of his here that i feel many would like, appreciate, or be drawn to.

full masterlist 🌹🪽

[themusingsofacurlyhairednerd]

In Love and War (8)

Summary: The aftermath of all her family secrets might be more chaotic than Reader bargained for when her powers suddenly start to flare. Good thing her Warlord has more than a few ideas how to help navigate it ;)

Content Warnings: Depressive thoughts, Reader mentions wanting to die; Suggestiveness, Slight SMUT; Canon Typical Violence

Author's Note: To make up for the last chapter being so short, please enjoy that flirty little bastard being a menace! ;)

Chapter 7/Masterlist

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

I don’t sleep at all that night. I lay there, Rhysand sleeping soundly beside me, exhausted from the events of the last couple of days. He’d barely kept his eyes open long enough to eat. I’d barely managed to choke down a few bites myself. The guilt has my stomach in a perpetual knot. I’ve dedicated so much of my life to hating this male, only to be wrong about all of it, and now I’m in too deep to even do anything about it.  I can’t go home. There is no home to go back to. My family slaughtered an innocent mother and daughter. Rhys received their heads in boxes like some sort of twisted gift. They were supposed to be allies and my father betrayed them in the worst possible way. He paid for it with his life, with my mother’s life; it should have been the end of it. Tamlin was given a mercy and he should have taken it. He should have abandoned my father’s teachings and become a better lord, a better man. Instead, he perpetuated the cycle of abuse and suffering. He encouraged me to hate these people, to covet everything they had as if they were undeserving of it. All these years I loathed our miserable existence thinking the Mother hated us and was being unjust in giving these people all these things that we were never allowed. But we deserved it! We were the bad guys all along.

I roll over onto my side to look at him. He still sleeps in his armor, knife still strapped to his thigh, sword resting against the tent pole only a foot away. He’s ready to be up and fighting in a moment's notice. Our father’s were so similar, and yet, he turned out to be merciful and kind and somehow, so startlingly gentle that I often forget he’s still capable of intense prowess. He is the only male I’ve ever truly felt comfortable with, because that gentleness came as a response to the violence he’d seen, not because that violence was never there. He’d felt the cold sting of it, and chose to be something gentle instead of returning it.

And here I am, with all that righteous anger that had kept me warm on my coldest days, choosing to return all the violence that had been inflicted on me onto others. Just as Tamlin did. Just as my father did. 

And looking at it I don’t want to be him. He ruined my mother! He took something good and kind and locked it away and used her for his own ends! I don’t even know if he ever really loved her. Why would you keep the things you love in a cage?

I sit up abruptly. Maybe he was as scared of being alone as I am. 

I can’t sit in this tent anymore! I can’t-

Rhysand jolts awake as soon as I move, hand twitching for his knife, shadows swirling off his body in response to what his sleep muddled mind thinks is a threat. “What’s wrong?”

I put a hand on his chest, spinning onto my knees so I can kiss his forehead. “Nothing, I just need to relieve myself.”

He lets me push him down onto the mat, body relaxing and pliant beneath my touch. “You sure?”

“Positive.” If he tried to follow me out now I think I really might explode. My stomach feels like it's ripping itself apart. My bones ache, my skin feels like it's stretched too tight over them. There is too much nervous energy bound inside my body. I just need to get out and stretch my legs; get some fresh air and clear my head. I will be fine if I can clear my head.

“Take your knife,” he says, eyes already drifting shut again. 

I strap it to my thigh as I slip from the tent, gulping down lungfuls of crisp, mountain air as I go. I just need to clear my head. Is finding a way to survive this fucked up world really me acting like my father? I’ve never killed innocent people. I’ve never withheld necessities or lorded my power over people. I’m just not being honest about my intentions. It’s shitty. I’m using a mating bond I’m still not wholly sure is real as a means to getting food and shelter and, hopefully, a decent helping of mind blowing sex.

Cauldron that sounds really, really fucked up.

But how am I supposed to tell him? Hey, I know that you really don’t like my family and they’ve done nothing but screw you over but I also accepted your offer to try and ruin your life and take all of your land and kinda only just changed my mind about it yesterday. And it would be really super cool if you just let that slide because I have nowhere else to go.

That would go over soooooo well. He’d be totally fine with it! 

I ground my palms into my eyes as I walk behind a couple trees to at least make it look like I really did need to go pee. There are men on guard duty, no doubt someone is going to see me wandering around camp.

My brain feels like it’s being squeezed by my skull. There has to be a way to go about this that doesn’t get me tossed out into the coming snow, while also not lying so deeply about it. I do care about him. It was a lie at first but now…

I put my back against the tree and slide down until I’m sitting on the rocky ground, head still in my hands. I don’t know if he’s my mate. There’s something there, I feel it pulling at me, even now, but I can’t give it a name. And I want to be here. Not just because of the story he’d told yesterday. When Lucien tried to get me to leave, I really didn’t want to go back with him. But how am I supposed to live with the truth? How am I supposed to look at him and see that he wants this so much more than I do, despite everything?

Actually, why does he want this, despite everything? He’d asked me why I stayed. I never asked him why he brought me here. There’s certainly enough bad blood between our families to make even a mate hesitate to bring me in.

I lean back against the tree, the rough scrape of the bark against my aching skin a relief. My body feels so strange, being around Rhysand’s magic has made it feel like there’s something beneath my skin.

Tomorrow, in the morning, I will ask him why he still brought me back. Then I will decide what to do. 

------

He certainly doesn’t make asking him easy. Rhys wakes me up with his lips on my throat, along the fading marks he’d left a couple days before,  trailing them down as his hands hike up my sweater. The heat of him against the early morning chill has my resolve slipping, all my plans slipping through my fingers as he runs his tongue over my peaked nipples.

I can’t think past the roaring in my ears; the ache in my body for more, more, more. There is nothing and no one but him as he trails lower, each kiss more forceful than the last as he heads for the waistband of my pants.

“Rhys,” I moan, voice still thick with sleep, even as my body arches under him. I want him everywhere. I need him everywhere. The stirring feeling beneath my skin is worse today, only quelled by the trail of his hands on my body. For once, my racing thoughts are quiet. If only we could stay like this. 

“Hmmm,” he hums into my stomach, just beneath my navel. There’s a bit of stubble along his jaw, the scrape of it against my oversensitive skin makes my eyes roll back into my head. “Did you want something, mate?”

“You,” I groan, hand reaching out to tangle in his hair to try and move him where I need him. 

He grins, I can feel the upturn of his lips against my stomach, but he refuses to budge. Just nips at the skin visible above my waistline. “You have me.”

Bastard! My whole body trembles beneath him. I can’t get a breath down fast enough. I need him everywhere all at once. “Need you inside me,” I bite out.

He simply hums again, hands tugging at my waistband with an inhumane slowness that makes me feel like I’m going to burst out of my skin. I use the hand not in his hair to grip the mat, trying to ground myself, trying to find some semblance of control again. I’m gripping so tight my bones ache, fingers feeling like they’re breaking. There’s a tearing sound, a pricking sensation in my palm and then a gush of something wet across my hand. 

Even he looks up at that, and when I turn to look, I’m more than a little surprised to find that I’ve grown claws, and I’ve just tore them right through my hand!

“Shit!” He’s gone from between my legs in an instant, all the heat in my body leaving with him. 

I can’t unfurl my hand. Can’t retract the claws, they’re stuck through my palm with my fist closed around it. I’ve only ever grown them in anger, how the hell had I done it now?

Rhysand comes back with a towel as I manage to sit up. “I thought you smelled different this morning,” he muses.

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” I hiss.

“Our magic can be protective. It can hide itself if it doesn’t feel safe. I don’t think you were born with too little, I think you were born with too much.” His fingers massage my wrist, trying to find the right pressure points to help me unclench my fist. “I think that it buried itself inside you to keep you safe. And I think, now that you’re here, it’s manifesting, and like the wards, it has its own scent.”

Fan-fucking-tastic!

“Well I’d like it to un-manifest,” I hiss. “I was doing just fine without it!” There’s blood dripping through the towel, if anything it feels like my claws are burrowing deeper into my palm. I can practically feel them trying to tear right through the back of my hand.

He can’t seem to find the right spot and trying to pry my fingers out of my palm is a no go. He frowns, lifting the towel for a better look. “I’m gonna try something.”

I’m prepared for a blow from his own magic, some form of glittering starlight or shadowy darkness, I am not prepared for him to kiss me again. The sound I make in surprise is somewhere between a growl and a gasp because what the hell is he doing? But even though my head is struggling to catch up, my body is not. On instinct, I lean back to allow him better access, his tongue slipping behind my teeth. The rolling feeling beneath my skin lessens, the tightness in my palm slowly releasing. I thread my functioning hand through his hair as my body gives what I can only describe as a sigh of relief. A moment later, the claws retract and I can finally unfurl my fist.

“Flair ups can be heavily tied to your emotions,” he says, lips barely off mine. “Probably wasn’t the best idea to tease you in the middle of one.” 

It takes him all of thirty seconds to find some rags and tie up my hand, even though the blood flow is already lessening. All I can do is stare at it while he does it. This is certainly a new and unwelcome development to this whole mess.

“Is that going to keep happening?”

Azriel pops his head into our tent, unannounced as usual. “Are you two done in here or what? I, personally, cannot live with Cassian if he beats us around the mountain.”

“We’ll be right there,” Rhysand huffs.

“I’m seeing a trend with him,” I mutter. 

He smirks, “It’s one of Azriel’s many charms.” 

He helps me to my feet, holding onto me like he thinks something else might just burst out of my skin. Truth be told, I can still feel something shifting around, a prowling animal begging to be released from its cage. I’d thought it was my unease this whole time, but maybe it’s worse than that. 

“We don’t know how deep your power well is,” Rhysand says. “And if it’s never fully manifested…” He blows out a breath. “When mine first started manifesting, I shredded a whole section of camp with starlight. There was a whole twenty-four hour period where my shadows blocked out the sun. And you’re my equal so, yes I think that will keep happening.”

Cauldron boil me!

“As long as you remain calm, it shouldn’t be too bad.”

“I should think you would know better than to tell a female to be calm, Rhysand.”

He grins, “Well you can also spend the day making out with me, since that seems to be such a lovely little distraction with you.”

I go to hiss an insult at him but the only thing that comes out is an actual, animal-like growl. I clamp a hand over my mouth in embarrassment while he bursts out laughing. 

“This is going to be fun!” He declares.

I am not at all inclined to agree.

----

I only manage to ride with him for an hour or two before the pull of his magic makes my skin start to itch. He was right about magic having a scent. Half way through the hour I suddenly become very aware of the jasmine scent of him. It’s everywhere. In every breath. Every brush of his chest against my back, every movement of his hands along the reins. My body is hyper aware of every place we do and don’t touch.

“Getting all worked up again, aren’t we?” He purrs in my ear.

My jaw feels like it’s snapping as a set of fangs tear through my gums, spurting blood into my mouth. Somehow his magic is the catalyst for my transformation and the balm all in one. I can’t be near him and I can’t be away from him, as I soon learn. When I jump off the horse and declare I’m going to walk beside him, my claws return, in both hands this time. At least they shoot out my nail beds and not my knuckles like Tamlin’s.

The thought of him makes another growl rumble through my chest and something that feels suspiciously like fur sprouts from the back of my neck.

“Wouldn’t recommend,” Rhysand warns.

The itchiness of my skin is even worse on the ground. I feel the wards tugging at me like I’ve been tied to the glittering magic that builds them with a string.  The jasmine and overripe fruit scent of them is enough to make my nose crinkle. Apparently the transformation heightens my senses as well.

“I’m gonna tear off my skin,” I snarl, fidgeting with my collar. Why is it so itchy? Is it supposed to be like this?

He slows his mount to keep pace with me and I do not miss the grumbled complaints of the males behind us. My ears twitch every time one of them speaks, the sound sometimes like a shout and others like a far off echo.

“Breathe,” he says gently. “The more worked up you get, the worse it will be until we can find a way to safely expel it.”

I draw a shaky breath, then another. 

“Good girl.”

A shiver works its way up my spine at that.

“Now come here,” he leans so far out of the saddle he’s only holding on with his thighs, and my first thought is how we can get this little caravan to pause so I can be the one beneath him. He gets an arm around my waist and hauls me back up onto the horse and damn if that’s not the hottest thing I’ve ever seen a male do!

“Let’s get these wards up-” I’m hyper-aware how every word rumbles through his chest, the way his body shifts on the horse. “-And we’ll find a place to camp soon enough, then you and I can work on this.”

“Make it stop,” I gently beg. “I don’t want it!” The itch beneath my skin is becoming unbearable! My claws scratch up my arms, tearing up my sweater. 

His free hand covers mine, intertwining our fingers, even as the horse begins to move. “Focus on me.”

I focus my attention on the way his body molds against mine. The way the leather of his glove slides over the back of my hand. I let my eyes drift shut, focusing on the brush of his chest against mine, the swaying motion of his hips as the horse moves over the rocky terrain. It’s not enough. Not like the feel of his lips on mine had been this morning. As if he knows it, he drops his head against my shoulder, nose brushing over the exposed skin of my throat. 

“I’m right here,” he continues. “Focus on me, just like you did this morning.”

This morning there had been a lot less clothes between us. 

“Breathe for me.”

It is a physical effort to draw a deep enough breath in; another to pull my claws away from my itching skin. He settles our joined hands against my stomach. 

“Again.”

I manage to do what I am told, just barely. 

“Good. Just like that.” His voice makes a shiver run down my spine as my mind spins with all the other things I want him to talk me through. I think I could do just about anything if he explained it to me in that rich, husky voice he was using in my ear. “Part of learning to control it is finding your center. Find a safe mental space to retreat to.”

“Like what?” There are few places in the world I have ever felt safe. Thinking about how I used to sit in the rocking chair with my mother and listen to her stories only fills me with pain now. Or perhaps a couple weeks ago I might have thought about all those summers I spent at the creek with Lucien, but now it only makes the thing beneath my skin rumble and shake like there’s some sort of animal that lives caged beneath my ribs and is trying desperately to break free. What makes me feel safe?

“A good memory, a happy time,” he lists. 

I have nothing. My eyes start to water and my throat starts to close, talons growing longer and sharper at my fingertips. I feel the give of my leather chest-piece beneath them. Everything good in my life has been a lie! Everyone that was supposed to protect me only ever hurt me in the end. None of it was ever real.

And this, this thing that could be something, that could be real, I had ruined it. I have to lie to keep it. I have to pretend that I had every right to hurt him, when it was really the other way around. The only person who had ever told me the truth, who could see me for what I was, and I had ruined any chance of it being real before it had even had the chance to start.

A sob slips out of me and with it, the tree we pass erupts in a flurry of leaves and twisting, screaming bark that makes the horse rear. The earth rumbles, random cracks splitting in the rock face, gnarled vines crawling out of them like tentacled monsters. The itching in my skin won’t stop! The more I try to trap it the more the world around us screams in protest. 

“Breathe, Y/N,” Rhysand orders in my ear. “You have to breathe.”

“I can’t!” I choke out. 

He slides his hand out of mine and brings it up against the side of my temple. It feels like a shadow unfurling from his fingertips, but the brush of it is not against my face, but inside my skull. Darkness clouds my vision from the inside out. It feels as if my brain is being emptied, piece by piece with shadows until there is nothing inside my mind but him. 

“Breathe,” he commands, the voice of a Warlord. “Now.”

I choke on each breath. 

“You are safe, Y/N,” he says, gentler. There is nothing in the world but the two of us in this dark little bubble. Nothing but the press of night chilled jasmine and calming, all consuming night. From somewhere far off, I hear music on the wind, the swell of stringed instruments pulling my attention away from the itch running beneath my skin.

“Why is this happening?” My body feels so impossibly small, yet like it’s being stretched beyond its capacity, my bones trying to tear through the confines of my skin all the same.

“Our powers can very easily get tangled with our emotions,” he explains, the hand on my temple drawing shapes into my skin. Somehow, after looking at the stitches in the tent walls, I know he’s spelling something out in Illyrian, but I’ll never know what. “The last twenty-four hours have been a lot for you, I’m sure.”

There is no room to think about it in this headspace, no twisted memories to plague me, only the music and the faint twinkle of stars for company. I let myself fall into it, let it swallow me and fill me until I feel disconnected from the pulling of my skin.

“I don’t want this power,” I whisper into the darkness.

The darkness caresses me, wraps itself around me as surely as his arm around my waist. “I know, but we don’t get a say in what we’re given, only what we do with it.”

When have I ever truly had a say in anything?

“What if I hurt somebody?” What if I am just as bad as my father in both intentions and power? If I am capable of plotting to ruin someone’s life based on a lie, how much more capable am I of turning these claws on someone else? Maybe power is passed from my mother, but that will never change the fact that I now carry the same weapons that were used to scar me, and Rhys, and probably his mother and sister. 

“You won’t,” he assures. “I’ll be right here to teach you. You can control it.”

He has far more faith in me than he should.

----

Once we’ve stopped for the night and camp is set up, Rhysand takes me by the hand and leads me out into the empty, grassy plains beneath the mountain. The knee-high yellow blades are brittle this time of year, cracking under our boots as we walk until only the smoke from the campfires pinpoints where we left the others. We’re far enough away that I won’t hurt anyone if I lose control again.

Shame flushes my cheeks. I’ve always prided myself on being the calm one of the family; always able to keep my emotions shoved deep down beneath the surface to keep them from getting the better of me. I thought I was good at it. I was wrong. It’s only been the constant brush of Rhysand’s shadows against my mind all afternoon that have kept me from tearing everything I touch to shreds. Even now, my hands ache from often my new claws have sprung and retracted from my fingertips.

I must feel about as awful as Rhysand looks. The circles under his eyes have not lessened in the slightest, and every once in a while I’ll see him start to sway, like it’s an effort to stay on his feet. The scent of his magic has lessened, the night blooming jasmine fading behind the citrus and salty scent of him. He shouldn’t be out here with me, he should be resting, recharging his own magic so he can be prepared for more warding tomorrow. According to Azriel and the scouts’ reports, we should meet up with Cassian and Mor’s group by this time tomorrow and Rhysand will need all his energy to ensure both ends of the wards are fully meshed together. 

We stop once we’re cushioned between two large hills, nothing but the chirp of crickets and the stars to keep us company. The Mountain looms dark and shadowy beneath the small sliver of the moon. 

“This looks like a good place,” he says as he finally releases my hand.

I keep my lower lip between my teeth, hands shaking at my sides. I don’t want to do this! Entertaining the idea that I have powers to train and use is foolish. I don’t need to learn to use them; I need to learn to shove them back down into the darkest parts of me where they can’t hurt anybody. 

“Let’s start with something simple,” he suggests. “Tell me where you feel your power the most.”

My hand comes up to poke between my rib cage, where the stirring and itchy feeling is the most concentrated. “Feels like something is trying to break out of my skin,” I say softly.

“The claws and the fangs could be a beast form,” he muses. “Or it could just be some shape-shifting powers you inherited from your father?”

The mention of that bastard makes the stirring in my chest feel like a tidal wave, raw energy crackling so hard and fast through my veins that I feel it crest out my fingertips. The grass around me withers and dies, the ground beneath it crackling and rumbling with what feels like the early stages of an earthquake. I can’t have powers like my fathers!

There is no shortage of pity in those violet eyes and I press my palms into my eyes with a groan. I can’t do this! It needs to stop! I need to bury it now before it runs away with me; while I still have some control over it. Because if it goes any further than this…

Maybe Tamlin was right to send me away. Maybe he did know about my powers and that was why he got rid of me. I couldn’t hurt anybody if I was alone in the woods.

Rhysands shadows drift along the floor until they can slither up my calves, rubbing affectionately against me in a way that reminds me of a cat. “It’s ok,” he soothes.

Tears stream down my cheeks. “Make it stop!” I beg. “Show me how to bury it again.”

His shadows trail higher, winding over my hips and waist, even as he steps closer, leaving barely a breath between us. “Y/N…” he shakes his head, trying to find the right words and I feel a strange pang beneath the movement in my chest.

“Please,” I whimper. “I’ll do anything! Just make it stop.”

He cups my cheek and I give myself the briefest moment to fall into the warmth of his touch.  “I know it’s scary, and that it hurts, but this is good. It has to be released. You will die if you don’t.”

Then let me. The words freeze on my tongue when a tendril of his power flicks over his shoulder, down his wrist, to brush against my cheek, but that doesn’t stop the spiraling of my thoughts. Let me be free of this pain. Let me go out before I become a monster like my father. Let that awful bastard be right; let me be useless and worthless and incapable of doing anything he could be proud of. 

As if spurred on by my thoughts, the grass around me continues to wither, until there’s a whole circle of dead earth surrounding me. The harder I try to draw it in, the wider the circle becomes. Power sizzle through my nerve endings, a fire that digs itself into my veins and when I curl my hands into fists to try and stop it, I pull weeds through the cracks in the earth, the gnarled, leafy branches reaching up like skeletal hands that wrap around my, and Rhysand’s ankles.

“Focus on that spot,” his free hand taps gently against my ribs. “Focus until it feels like you’re holding it.”

I try to imagine the power like a bowl filled with sloshing, dark liquid. I imagine myself reaching for the lip of the bowl, the cracked edges and rough wood a mirror to the one that used to sit on our kitchen table, full of apples I’d sneak when no one was looking. If I make it familiar, it feels easier to focus on. I imagine every crack in the bowl, every worn edge, focusing until I get a mental hold around the edges. Now all I need to do is tip the bowl over. If I spill out its contents, there will be nothing left inside me to unleash… right?

“Once you can hold it, focus on containing it. Imagine it like a bottle, get all that energy into the bottle, and put a lid on the top,” Rhys says like he can hear my plans.

The liquid inside the bowl bubbles and hisses as my conflicted feelings run circles through my head. He hasn’t been wrong this far, I should do as he says, but I can’t help but feel like indulging this is a mistake. I can hear my father’s voice inside my head, telling me that this is not how females are supposed to behave. 

I can feel the weeds I’d summoned dying around me. Can feel every blade of grass as if it was somehow attached to my skin. The longer I hold that imaginary bowl, the more aware of this power I become, but it doesn’t feel like control. It just feels like more things pulling at me, trying to move me in directions I’ve never decided I want to go in. 

The ground rumbles beneath my boots again as my mental grip slips, and when I open my eyes the weeds, dead as they are now, have slithered all the way up my chest, reaching for my throat like some decrypt hand. 

The air leaves my lungs in a rush and with it, the dead vegetation crumbles and turns to dust on the wind.

Rhysand should be looking at me like I’m a monster. He should be stepping away, shadows swirling, that giant sword in hand. We are supposed to be enemies and he should be looking at me like I am one. But he’s not. He reaches out and brushes some of the ruined plant off my shoulder instead.

“It’s ok,” he assures. “No one gets it on their first try. Not even me.”

That compassion and understanding makes my chest ache worse than any restless power ever has. I don’t deserve it. I wish he would treat me like the horrible creature I am. He would be better off if he tossed me out into the woods like Tam.

He stiffens and I can’t help but wonder if I accidentally said that out loud because his eyes darken as he closes the gap between us and takes my face in his hands. “Maybe I’m taking the wrong approach.” His voice is clipped, husky. 

Good, maybe he can finally see me for what I really am.

I am wholly unprepared for him to crash his lips against mine. My brain short circuits, the agitation I feel morphing into that desperate, needy thing I had felt this morning. Just as I tilt my head back, lips parting to let him in, he pulls back. 

“Let’s play a game.”

The power in my chest feels like it’s going to rip out of my skin again. 

“Match what I do and you’ll get a reward,” he explains. “If you can’t…” He takes a step back and it is an effort not to chase after him, but the message is clear enough: Matching his efforts means his hands, his lips, his body is on me again, fail to do so, and he puts space between us. It shouldn’t work. It shouldn’t make me want to try, but I do. Gods I do! 

“Ok,” my voice shakes a little. In the back of my mind I still think it’s a bad idea. Maybe I will regret it in the end, but this thing between us is the only thing that makes sense. There is nothing between us when his lips are on mine. I need that distraction tonight.

He holds out a hand and a ball of shadows emerge, the tendrils of darkness crawling out from beneath his skin to form the swirling shape. “Find that spot in your chest and push it into your hand. It’s a part of you, it answers to you. Make it answer to you.”

I hold out my hand, matching his position and then close my eyes, reaching for that bowl of darkness again. Hesitantly, I tip it sideways, sloshing some of the dark liquid over the edge and imagine pulling it through my limbs. It makes my muscles spasm, my claws shooting out of my nail beds in defense.

“Breathe through it, you’ll pass out if you hold your breath.” 

Selfishly, I want to impress him. Want to show him I can. I want the reward of his lips on mine again. Want to not have to think about whether I should be doing this or that, the only thought in my head him and how good he feels. I do as he says, drawing in a breath as I keep pushing that bit of darkness in the direction I want it. It makes my head hurt, trying to focus so intently, but I’m nothing if not persistent. 

I feel the rumble of movement beneath my palm, and just when I’m starting to think that maybe I’m more capable than I thought, the tiniest, most wilted looking dandelion grows from my palm. And then immediately turns to ash. It’s the saddest excuse for power I’ve ever seen and I growl out a complaint like a literal beast as even the thing in my chest shows its disappointment.

Rhysand snorts out a laugh too, which makes it worse.

So much for powerful. 

He clears his throat as he steps back into my space. “It was a good attempt.”

“Don’t patronize me,” I hiss. “That was embarrassing.” 

He wraps his hand around my wrist and places his lips against my palm anyway, never mind that my claws are still out and drifting over his temple as he kisses right where my powers flared. “You still tried.”

I shiver at the contact of his plush lips against my skin, his breath warm against my palm. My senses are still incredibly heightened and even that bit of contact makes my skin buzz with excitement. 

He quirks a dark brow as he looks at me from where my hand is still pressed against his lips. “Try again for me?”

I nod, not trusting my voice when he’s looking at me like he wants to devour me. His pupils are blown wide, barely a ring of violet left to see. He keeps his lower lip between his perfect teeth as he watches me with an intensity that makes my thighs clench. 

Just like before, I imagine myself holding that bowl, this time, I draw a breath and tip it over, letting more of that strange darkness spill into the abyss that is my soul. It is strange to see it like this, to have some parts of it so clear and yet the rest of it is shrouded in fathomless depths. There might be anything living within the confines of my skin. I’d never bothered to look until now. 

I push it towards my fingertips, just as before. The same spasm in my muscles returns, a knot forming in my bicep that I do my best to ignore as I keep pushing my power towards my hand. I remind myself to breathe when it flares in my wrist, making my claws retract and pop back out. 

“Just like that,” Rhysand coaxes.

Cauldron his voice makes my insides feel like jelly. 

Crawling vines emerge one by one from beneath my palms, twining around my fingertips like tiny snakes. In the center sprouts another dandelion, a little taller than the last. I manage to hold it for all of five seconds before the knot in my bicep and wrist become too much and the vines and flower die together. My bones ache. How does he do this so easily?

“Better,” Rhysand praises as he places the next kiss on the inside of my wrist, his fingers massaging the knot forming there. 

“Is it supposed to hurt?” I grumble.

“It’s a process,” he murmurs into my skin, lips trailing higher, causing a shiver to run down my spine. “Think of it like building a muscle. The first couple days of using that muscle will hurt. You’ll be sore. But the more you build it, the stronger it becomes, and the less it hurts. Eventually, you’ll be able to perform bigger and bigger feats with less and less discomfort.” 

That sounds exhausting! 

I’m going to have to do this for the rest of my life? The thought sours my mood, once again turning my thoughts away from this lovely little distraction he’s been offering and back into the darkness that’s been threatening to overtake me all afternoon. 

I swear he can hear the thoughts spinning through my head as he suddenly nips at the tender flesh of the inside of my wrist. “You think you can give me one more?”

I have a headache just thinking about doing it again, but he keeps looking at me through those long lashes, the intensity in his gaze making all rational thought fly out the window. 

“I’ll make it worth your while,” he promises, lips trailing higher. He’s so warm and intoxicating, I think he might be capable of making me do anything, as long as his lips remain on my skin.

I focus on that spot, paying extra attention to breathe as I reach for that imaginary bowl a third time. Maybe if I let myself relax, lean a little heavier into the warmth of his touch, and stop trying so hard to hold on so tight, it won't hurt so bad. It has been like fighting a tide all this time; if I relax, go with the wave, will that make it easier?

I imagine that darkness spilling from the bowl like water instead, letting it flow like a river. The path from my chest to my fingertips is kind of like a stream, right? The water bubbling and rushing through me. There must be something to that thought process, because, when I open my eyes, there are more vines twining around my fingers and wrist, but this time, tiny yellow and pink flowers bloom from them. There is nothing dead or angry crawling out from beneath my skin, but something beautiful and alive. My claws retract as the vines spin around my fingers.

I can’t help but grin as I look to Rhys for his approval. “I did it!”

He grins right back, the sight so dazzling I think I might just stand here for hours summoning flower after flower to see it again. “That’s my girl!”

Instinctively, spurred by the excitement rushing through my veins, I stretch up on my toes and place a quick kiss on his lips. “You’re a good teacher,” and I mean it. Whatever this is between us, I am grateful for him, even if this is all we have. “Thank you.”

He slides a hand in my hair and kisses me back. “Feels good, doesn’t it?”

I don’t know what it is I feel about it. It still feels wrong, or maybe it just feels different. Everything feels different these days, I’d rather not think too long about it. “Feels like I can breathe a little easier.” 

“Good.” He kisses me again. “We’ll practice some more tomorrow.”

I slide my hand into the silky strands of his hair, nails scraping lightly over his scalp as he rests his forehead on mine. I won’t let myself think about tomorrow, or about these new powers. There can only be this moment.

“Just promise me,” he continues, “that you’ll keep trying?”

“I might need some convincing,” I return, clinging to this distraction with every last bit of willpower I possess.

He grins at the challenge. This is the best I can give him today; the closest to the truth I can admit without laying everything bare. 

“I can be very persuasive,” he purrs and the next thing I know I am on my back in what’s left of the grass, the solid weight of him on top of me. “Maybe we should work on some self-defense while we’re at it. That was alarmingly easy.”

“The words every girl wants to hear when she’s beneath a man,” I retort.

“I just want you to be safe, is all,” he says as he kisses the tip of my nose. 

I reach up a hand and brush some of the hair that’s falling over his forehead into his eyes out of the way. He is breathtakingly beautiful under the moonlight. I wish I could paint or sketch, immortalize every glorious sharp edge of him in ink and paper. “I’m with you, how can I not be safe?”

Cauldron boil me, I mean that too.

It’s not until later that night, long after I’d fallen apart on his tongue in that field and then tumbled back into camp, nearly asleep on my feet to nestle down against his warm body that I remembered I’d meant to ask him this morning why he’d still let me in after everything between us. By now I’m too exhausted to care; maybe I’ll find the courage to ask in the morning.

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

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Thank you all for being so patient with this update! As always, let me know if you want to be added to the taglist :)

[hsr-writing]

I'm absolutely heartbroken by 2.5 and my boy Jiaoqiu my beloved. Jiaoqiu x reader, sfw, fluff/minor angst, Jiaoqiu is non-verbal, established relationship.

Jiaoqiu wakes up slowly, the weight of the bandages around his eyes feeling alien still. The blanket he's under is heavy, he thinks it might be a weighted one, and he can feel a few tangles in his tail's fur. How frustrating.

Someone is sitting next to his bed, and he can hear the quiet tapping of fingertips against a screen. One of his ears twitches as he focuses on the presence, trying to glean any information he can.

They smell familiar, herbs and healing balms, but under that there's apples and cardamom. He knows that smell. His hunch is confirmed when you speak softly.

"You're awake," you say, your voice warm with relief. "It's been a few days since you last woke up. You're healing well, if slow."

Your assurances feel numb, like they roll off of him like water meeting oil. He lifts a hand, blindly reaching out towards you and he's never felt more lost.

You take his hand, not even minding the way he grips yours just a little too tight. He holds your hand like a lifeline, and all you do in response is give his a comforting squeeze. Jiaoqiu lets himself take a moment to breathe, focusing on the heat of your hand and your own breathing.

After a few moments, you quietly tell him, "You just missed Moze and Feixiao. They've barely left your side if they can help it."

He feels you place a hand on top of his, gently petting the back of his hand. Your hands are soft, your callouses from writing instead of fighting. He soaks in the little details about you that he never felt important to notice.

"... We've been worried," you murmur, your thumb soothing over his knuckles. "I'm... I'm so glad you're awake."

He opens his mouth to reply, only to realize he just... can't. He's physically capable, but he's just so tired, so bone deep exhausted that words won't come to him. He closes his mouth with a frown, then twists his hand in yours so he can write against your palm.

I'm sorry.

You take a shaky breath, then he feels you lift your joined hands, pressing them against your forehead, almost to mimic the way you've pressed yours against his in the past.

"I know," you say, and your voice is unsteady. "I understand why you did it, the logic is sound, and it was strategically a good idea. But gods, Jiaoqiu, I- When they told me what happened-"

You cut yourself off, your voice choking, and take a moment to breathe.

"I was so scared I'd lost you," you murmur, like saying it out loud will tempt fate. "I'm so, so glad you're alive, A-Qiu"

Jiaoqiu's heart hurts, your sincerity and relief almost overwhelming. He tugs your hand, blindly pulling you down towards him. You bring his hand to your face and he's grateful you understand him so well.

You give him the ability to guide your forehead to his, giving him that control he's already desperately clinging to. As you hold still, foreheads pressed together, he slides his hand into your hair, sighing softly at the familiarity.

"I missed you," you murmur softly, and it makes his heart sing. He smiles, nuzzling a little and hoping you'll understand. You huff a tiny laugh, bringing your hand to his cheek, your thumb smoothing over his cheekbone.

"I love you too."

[penelopepine]

I’m absolutely in love with your writing 💕

I’ve always had this scenario of Phillip and Reader (who are both first time parents) going out with their baby, and Reader having to breastfeed the baby in public and a man tries to harass her about it (telling her she shouldn’t be doing this in public and whatnot) and Phillip stands up for her

Maybe the man tries to harass her while Phillip was at the counter getting them something to eat and he hears what’s going on or something?

(Moms who are alone in public get bothered like this irl by men so often and it’d be so sweet to see Phillip standing up for his wife 🥺❤️)

Thank You!!! I hope that you like this as well!

It's weird that people get so bothered by breastfeeding. Like just let the mom feed her baby in peace.

Mind Your Own Business

Phillip Graves x Fem Reader

With the baby turning six weeks old just a few days ago you and Phillip both felt comfortable taking the baby out to more public spaces. It was a beautiful day out, and that of course led to you both walking around the farmer’s market with the little one in tow. 

Philip had both hands on the stroller while you had one hand wrapped around the crook of his elbow as you both walked around. It wasn’t until half an hour had passed did he insist on sitting down in one of the bakeries for a bite to eat. “Come on, let me treat my sweetheart to something sweet.” 

“I think it’s you who wants something sweet.” You give him a playful nudge as you walk towards the shop. 

“Who says it can’t be both?” Phillip counted your accurate remark. “I’m a man capable of many things after all.” 

Once in the shop looking at all the available options is when the little one decides to make a fuss. Glancing at the time you know she’s probably just hungry since this is about the time you would normally feed her when at home. 

“Oh, are you hungry baby?” You gesture for Phillip to let you take control of the stroller, “I’m going to take her outside and feed her. I saw a shaded bench right outside.” 

It’s obvious he doesn’t want to leave you both alone, but understands that that’s just his protective nature talking. That little voice has been speaking a lot more ever since the baby was born. “I’ll be there in just a few minutes; I’ll bring you one of those chocolate croissants I saw you eyeing too.” 

"I love you so much." You give him a small kiss, and swiftly make your way outside to the bench just as the baby starts to cry.

It only takes you a few moments to get comfortable, grab the now crying baby out of her stroller, and adjust her so that she can easily breastfeed from you. 

You take this time to admire the tiny wiggling bundle of joy in your arms. She truly is the perfect mix between you and Phillip - it almost feels like she’s not real sometimes with just how perfect she is. 

The baby's crying and wiggling finally starts to settle down as she latches on. Just as things seem to settle down you feel a sudden presence next to you. Thinking it was Phillip you look up with a smile on your face which quickly shifts into a frown as you take in the strange man now standing in front of you.

It was the look of anger and disgust on his face that had you gripping your daughter tight to you; trying to decide if you needed to get up, and walk away. Before you can make a move though the man is already practically spitting venom at you. “Do you really think that’s appropriate to be doing in public? Why don’t you go do that in the bathroom like you're supposed to do?” 

“I’m breastfeeding - I’m just feeding my baby.” Is your immediate response to his unpleasant questions. You knew some people didn’t like it when women breastfeed in public, but you didn’t think anyone would actually try and fight you about it. All you're doing is feeding a baby after all. 

“No, what you are doing is purposely exposing yourself to others around you. I mean my god woman could you not have the decency to atleast have a cover on?” 

“A cover? It’s 80 degrees out right now, and you want me to practically put a blanket over her?” You couldn’t believe what you were hearing right now. Not to mention that you didn’t like using a cover; all it felt like was another thing you had to pack around and worry about. 

Arguing only seemed to be making the man more upset with you. As if you should be thankful that he was gifting you with his “amazing” advice on how and where you should be breastfeeding your baby. 

Red faced with a pointed finger raised, the man takes a large step closer to you. It genuinely seemed like he would have come even closer if he wasn’t so suddenly jerked away from you. 

“Now what do you think you're doing here bothering my wife and child?” There Phillip stood now in between the man and you. Finally, it felt like you could breathe again knowing that your husband was here to help you. 

Phillip was furious - that much was obvious even from where you sat with his back to you. His shoulders were tense, and his clenched fists looked like they were one wrong move from throwing a punch. 

“That’s your wife?” The man waves in your direction, “How about you tell your wife to cover up while in public.” 

The silence that follows after those words are deafening.

“Phillip,” You softly call out to your husband. As much as you would love to let him do whatever he sees fit you’d rather not have to be escorted off by police. 

You watch as Phillip slowly releases a sigh before he continues with his words to the man, “I'm not going to waste any more breath explaining just how stupid you sound right now. What I am going to say though is that if you don't walk away right now I'm going to beat the shit out of you, and I promise you that is a fight you don't want - not with me." 

The man clearly wasn't prepared for the outright threat of violence against him, and it showed on his now shocked face. People like him are all talk; just wanting to pick on someone seemingly weaker than him, and the second someone stronger stands up to him he's playing the victim. 

"Whatever," the man growls out before hastily turning on his heels and walking away further into the market. 

Phillip doesn't move from his position until the man has completely disappeared from view. When he does eventually turn around he puts one hand on your check and the other one cradles the baby's head before he asks you, "are you both alright?" 

"We're- we're alright. He didn't do anything besides give me a lecture." You're so thankful for that too, and luckily your daughter didn't seem to notice the tense situation that just occurred. "How did you know he was even here?" 

"You really didn't think I wouldn't be watching you while I was waiting inside did you?" Phillip looked much calmer now that it was just the three of you again. "Which reminds me I still need to pick our order up. Now let me help you pack up; there's no way I'm leaving you alone to get harassed again." 

Normally you would have insisted that you were alright to stay where you were, but right now all you wanted was to stay by his side. This encounter has really rattled you more than you thought. 

It only takes Phillip a few seconds to get everything back in the baby bag. The baby is still feeding from you as you both walk back to the bakery. In the silence you can’t help, but ask a question that has been bothering you. “Do you think I should … hide away when I need to breastfeed in public?" 

"Sweetheart, don't let one dumb fucker stop you from feeding our baby when she's hungry. You have the right to breastfeed anywhere you damn want to."

"You're right, you're right," He was right, this one experience shouldn't stop you from going out and enjoying things with your baby.

Phillip reached out and gave you a quick peck as he opened the bakery door, "besides I'll always be there to defend my girls." 

[thedemonofcat]

When Jaskier's angry or upset, it's always "Don't touch me!" "Get away!" "Hands off!" And then the bard will be gone for hours or days until he calms down.

Now, Geralt understands this kind of reaction. He himself doesn't want to talk to/be around others when he's angry. Much less let anyone touch him. The thing is...Jaskier acting that way never fails to make Geralt feel like shit. Jaskier is usually so affectionate that the sudden cut off is jarring. The first few times it happened, Geralt had been sure that Jaskier was fed up with him and leaving for good.

However, Jaskier always returned. They would make amends, and the bard would resume his touchy, affectionate ways.

One day though, they had their worst argument to date. And although he had always come back before, Geralt was certain that this was the time Jaskier would leave forever. If Jaskier walked out that door, Geralt was sure he would never see him again.

So, unthinkingly, Geralt caught the bard's wrist.

Jaskier's eyes widened, anger replaced with pure panic. "Geralt! Let me go! Let me go right now!"

Geralt loosened his grip reflexively in response to Jaskier's panic. Did the bard think the witcher would force him to stay? He opened his mouth to try to explain.

Only, the world was...spinning. And Geralt's tongue was heavy. And everything was warm. Oh, he felt so very sick.

Then, the world went black.

An unknown amount of time later, Geralt woke. He felt kind of hungover but was otherwise fine. To his relief, Jaskier was sitting at his bedside.

When the bard notices Geralt is awake, he inquires after his health. At Geralt's reassurance that he was fine, Jaskier launched into a tirade about the number of times he had told Geralt "NOT TO TOUCH HIM WHEN HE IS MAD! AND THAT INCLUDES RIGHT NOW, YOU SCARED ME HALF TO DEATH, YOU BASTARD!!!"

Geralt is a bit confused about how Jaskier being mad and his fainting spell were connected.

Two things are revealed that day:

Jaskier is part fae

Some fae become toxic to touch when they are extremely upset or angry or scared. It is a magical trait, so it wears off when Jaskier calms down; nevertheless, it is dangerous.

This puts some things into perspective. Like how Jaskier, who seems to feel entitled to his emotion/reactions no matter how inappropriate they may be, is very skilled at controlling his temper. Or how when he does lose it he chooses verbal slander over physical violence. Or how when there IS a physical fight Jaskier wraps his hands in cloth and tries uses blunt instruments.

Bonus: Geralt tells all of the witchers not to touch Jaskier when he's mad, and Lambert takes that as a challenge.

When a fae is startled enough by touch, it can shatter their Glamour.

That’s exactly what happened when Lambert was goading Jaskier, determined to rile him up, resorting to poking the Bard. But when Lambert finally made a remark about Jaskier’s feelings for Geralt, something inside Jaskier snapped the moment he felt the poke.

A surge of magic erupted, sending Lambert hurtling backward. He crashed against the wall, clearly injured. Everyone turned to stare at Jaskier, who now stood transformed—his fae nature fully revealed. Pointed ears, delicate horns sprouting from his head, and his bright blue eyes glowing even more intensely than before. To top it all off, Jaskier hovered a few feet above the ground, wings unfurled.

Geralt had never seen his Bard look so otherworldly, so undeniably fae. It was both mesmerizing and terrifying. He knew Jaskier hadn’t meant for any of this to happen, but Lambert had pushed him too far.

As the anger faded and Jaskier glanced around, he was met with wide-eyed fear. They looked at him like he was a monster. Overwhelmed, Jaskier shrank himself down with a flicker of magic and flew away, disappearing into the air.