#my candle burns at both ends it may not last the night but oh my foes oh my friends it makes such a pretty sight

[marthawrites]

A Tale of Two Moons

Rhaenyra Targaryen x fem reader

Word count: 900+

About: At the end of a long day Rhaenyra shares a tale with you, and then offers to share more.

Includes: Soft wlw fluff 🩷

Note: Hello lovely reader! This fic was inspired by @hotd-bigbang! The myth in it was inspired by a bit from Game of Thrones. I wrote this with young Rhaenyra in mind but you can read it with whichever Nyra your heart desires. As always, reader is non-descript. Please, enjoy!

-

Soft crackles popped from a newly lit fire inside Rhaenerya’s hearth. Various candles burned around her bedchamber, too, creating an atmosphere of quiet serenity. You sat upon a stool by a freshly prepared bath and sprinkled various oils into the still steaming water: lavender, chamomile, bergamot. The princess took her baths near scalding, and the water’s heat bloomed all those fragrances three fold. 

Twiddling your thumbs, there was little to do now aside from waiting. If she didn’t arrive soon she’d likely walk in on you sleeping on the job! Something you’d never done before. 

Each night Rhaenyra saw to her evening meal–as well as any remaining duties–before retiring. Tonight, however, she seemed to be running later than you ever remembered. A slow worm of anxiety creeped its way into your gut. Could something be the matter? Should you alert Queen Alicent? Or, better yet, her father, King Viserys? You were the princess’ favorite maid servant and your word would surely strike a chord of panic.

Standing, you walked over to the large window in her bedchamber and pulled its drapery open. You opened the window next, spring's breeze blowing in, fresh, and admired the view. It was enchanting. Truly. The moon was full and high in a clear sky, and the smooth inky blackness of Blackwater Bay may as well have been a mirror–stars twinkled on its surface. 

If you had it your way–and Rhaenyra had it her way–you'd spend many more nights with her than the scarce few you shared since your employment. She was good at keeping secrets. You were too; something you quickly learned was a not-so-subtle requirement for the job.

You must have been lost in your thoughts because before you knew it the door creaked open and Rhaenyra entered with a heavy sigh. “Oh! I’m sorry. I should have sent someone up to warn you of my tardiness tonight.”

Turning, you did your best to look unworried. “You owe me no apologies, princess. I've your bath ready. And more water on the fire if it starts to cool,” you said, gesturing to the hearth.

“You know you don't have to be so formal when it's just us,” she replied with a playful roll of eyes, taking her gloves off and tossing them on a table.

With a coy smile you offered a half curtsy. “Old habits are hard to break,” you giggled. “I was beginning to worry about you though! Are things… well?”

“Somewhat. Apparently Syrax would not eat for the dragonkeepers and I was summoned to the dragonpit to feed her a sheep. She gets annoyed when I don't ride her. It’s only been a few days since my last ride!” She groaned, sitting down to begin removing her boots.

“Perhaps tomorrow?” You suggested, looking over your shoulder at her with a thoughtful brow; moon calling to you all the while.

“If I have it my way, yes.”

A quiet moment passed as you continued to peer outside and she continued to remove layers of clothing. Before too long she wore only her linen shift. Coming up behind you she rested her chin on your shoulder and looked out to where you were. “See anything exciting tonight?”

Smiling, you turned your head until the tips of your noses brushed together. “Only the moon and stars. Aren’t they beautiful tonight?”

Rhaenerya hummed appreciatively behind you. Both her arms wrapped around your waist, then, swaying gently as she asked, “have I ever told you the tale of two moons?”

Anticipation and warmth settled in your belly with the princess’ affection. Your fingers idly traced over the tops of her hands and forearms, enjoying her embrace. Whispering, you answered, “no, I don’t believe you have.” You leaned back against her, allowing your gaze to slowly pan between her lovely purple eyes and the night sky. The moon’s reflection on her creamy skin and silver hair made her glow.

“Long long ago, before there were dragons, our world had two moons. Together, with the sun, they all danced and played in the sky. Man watched this in awe from the ground. Then, one night, one of the moons danced too closely to the sun. But, it wasn’t merely a moon. It was a dragon egg. It hatched and out came hundreds of dragons. They drank fire from the sun like a newborn babe would drink from its mother. After their fill they came here to live, and with them they brought magic and dragonfire. Brave men–and women–eventually came to bond with these dragons and harnessed their magic in their blood. If the world should ever run out of dragons, perhaps our moon here, now, will dance too close to the sun, too.”

You listened in awe, picturing everything in your mind’s eye. “And you believe this, princess?” You asked with equal wonder and suspicion.

Rhaenerya smiled against your neck, kissing the soft spot beneath your ear. “A part of me does.”

A pleased hum slipped from your lips. “I’d miss the moon terribly if that ever did happen.”

Finally letting you go, she laughed sympathetically. “You stink, sweetling. Like fireplaces, sweat, and… something I can’t quite put my finger on?” 

“Hey!” You exclaimed. “Well, you smell like dragons and sheep!”

 She giggled again, softer. “Been a long day for you too, huh?”

You sighed with a nod. 

“Come join me in the bath?” She asked with a tilt of her head and pull of your hand, pretty lips smirking.

Blushing with excitement, you answered, “I would love to, Nyra.”

-

Thank you so much for reading! If you enjoyed, please consider a follow, and/or reblog, and/or letting me know as it all makes me vvvery happy! ♥

To be added or removed from the taglist, hit me up!

Masterlist

Main taglist: @watercolorskyy @melsunshine @girlwith-thepearlearring @arcielee @barbiedragon @targaryen-dynasty @succnfuccubus @fan-goddess @schniiipsel

[desoletongue]

So I've been having a little bit of a time lately. This one may end up a little long and a little sad, but it's all okay.

I left my job of 5 years, it was eating me to pieces and I just couldn't give my time to those people any more. It was a good choice. That it happened to coincide with my therapist closing her practice was unexpected, but I felt like I would be okay after about two days of moping in a woe is me style.

It has been okay. There have been hiccups. Some days it's really hard not to be a depressed burrito. I make a lot of "gainfully unemployed" jokes while I try to get my brain to remember that we can art and write to our hearts content and if we get tired we can just nap about it. I am lucky to have a cushion and the time to do this.

I'm adjusting to sharing space with humans again. Remembering they aren't just humans and are actually my friends helps most of the time. I wish we communicated more viably about house stuff but hopefully we improve on that. I'm just hoping I'm not the only one that thinks improvement is needed in that area.

The anxieties are gripping me tight and shaking me around every few days. Last week I couldn't sleep for two (thankfully) separate nights because I was just very convinced I would die. Not very helpful, but I played some video games and listened to chill music and tried to be kind to myself.

I'm getting back into the habit of regularly cleaning. I'm trying not to make a big schedule because I get overwhelmed easily when I see lists of things to do anymore, but I do try to grab one or two things from the "to do" jumble a day. Sometimes it's just some laundry, but I unpacked like 9 more boxes the other night. I was in bed the next day, but it was big progress and I can afford a day in bed right now.

I've been writing. I posted three fanfics in a series I've been saying I'm working on for almost a year at this point. I'm really proud and trepidatious about it. I've posted stuff before, it's not that it's a new experience, it just feels like something that I've started a growing piece for others to see. I've also been writing and developing stuff for my book.

I haven't been listening to music much, which may tie in with some of the depression. I should have a music outlet, that's been a constant for years. I just forget and the novelty of actual silence is one that I've appreciated since when I started to really feel my burn out.

Next week I should probably really start job hunting, for all that I hate it. Need to redo my resume maybe completely. Also might apply for weird slightly out of the wheelhouse stuff because to be honest? I really hate scheduling. I keep getting notifications that the schools around here are hiring secretaries and admin assistants and while I Absolutely do not want to work at a school in the year of our lord 2023 in Okla-fucking-homa, I could do admin work elsewhere. And maybe, if things work out ... I could go to school? I haven't done that but I want to. Anything but banking or workforce.

School was a thing that I've waffled on for nearly 10 years because fear of debt but at this point... We're all gonna die in debt unless we burn this whole candle down (won't bank on that), so why the fuck not. I'm a smart boy, I could learn a thing.

I did start a fansly. It's mostly friend traffic at the moment, which is really sweet and mildly comical, but only because I never know whether they're following me because they love and support me or because I'm hot. Could be both, but I'm not sure of any of it much less the all of it. (Oh geez, did they get there and not expect boobs because I'm normally bound down??)

I've been a little isolated, but I forget to socialize sometimes because it's kinda nice being able to just hang out and read and cuddle the cats? And then I realize it's been a week since I've messaged my best friend and I feel too guilty about that to message him now, except then I find a meme they really need to see and auto send it and suddenly we're talking again. We've done that a couple of times. I miss him.

So overall, a bumpy leg of our journey, but we're still trucking along.

And I have blue/purple hair again. That's pretty fuckin rad.

[averlym]

i guess it makes sense somehow that burnt ash can be wet

[auro-moved-account]

Rest easy, I'll protect you.

Venti x gn!reader

Genre: Fluff

Word count: 600~

Warnings: Sleep depravation

Summary: Only when your weeping started to die down could you hear his quiet humming, a melody you had never heard before. He went quiet for a moment.

“Do you want to cuddle?”

The light of the sun on the horizon was already making itself known before you had found peace for the night. You could only burn the candle at both ends for so long before the fatigue caught up with you, and when it did, it hit hard. Too many nights of overtime and covering for your coworkers left you with not only little time for your own activities, but also no time for rest.

The frustration of it all was enough to bring you to tears. In your exasperated state, you were visited by one who had heard your cries in the night. A gentle knock on your open window frame and a quiet greeting revealed to you the identity of your visitor. You squeezed the pillow in your clutches harder to muffle your sobs, even though you knew that he knew very well what was going on by now. You listened carefully for his reaction.

Venti let out a soft sigh, and with a few quiet steps made his way over to you. You felt the mattress shift ever so slightly as he sat down next to you. He placed a hand on your back, gently caressing you through the fabric of your weary pajamas. You didn’t realize you were holding your breath before you let out a loud sob and could no longer keep your cries at bay.

For a moment, the two of you stayed like this. Only when your weeping started to die down could you hear his quiet humming, a melody you had never heard before. He went quiet for a moment.

“Do you want to cuddle?”

In response, you pulled yourself up and away from your tear stained mattress, and slipped both arms around his waist before leaning your whole body into his.

“I’ll take that as a yes, then.”

You felt his arms come to rest around your form, gently massaging your back with his fingertips. You took in his scent, and were immediately able to tell he’d come straight from windrise. The smell of windwheel asters and freshly picked apples still lingered on him. He’d likely been composing a new melody before he came to check up on you, and even more likely was it the one you heard him humming earlier.

“Sorry I interrupted you.” You muttered, burrowing your face in the fabric of his shirt. It was still cool from the evening breeze.

“Hm? Oh, you weren’t Interrupting anything, darling. Just some boring practice, that's all.” He pressed a kiss to the crown of your head. “Of course, nothing comes before making sure you’re okay anyways.”

Your tense muscles finally relaxed, and as you let out a shaky breath, you could feel the drowsiness coming on again. You reached out for your blanket before remembering that too was still wet with tears. For a moment you contemplated getting up to find a new blanket, but Venti tightened his grip around you. You looked up at him with a puzzled expression.

“There’s no need, my dear. I’ll keep you warm for as long as you need, so please relax.”

For a moment you were confused, until a dim light shone from him. It was gentle enough to not hurt your tired eyes, yet still mesmerizing as you watched his wings materialize from the light. Venti had mentioned to you in the past that he had wings once, but playfully refused to show you upon your request. Now, you found yourself thinking that the wait was worth it. The wings gently wrapped all around your body and kept you close to him. Feathers as soft as the gentle summer breeze gently caressed your exposed skin. It felt soft and warm, and in your exhausted state, you could barely keep your eyes open. Venti pressed another kiss to your forehead, and rubbed the last remaining tear from your cheek away.

“Sleep well, my warrior. May your dreams be sweet.”

[tryskomys]

PSYCHO KILLER

Eddie Munson x OC

Chapter 6 - Burn

Summary: The Hellfire Club is wrapping up a long campaign with a surprising guest. After a thunderous victory, Eddie and Maia’s awkward exchange messes with both of them. The fateful night approaches.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫

Notes: a longer chapter this time! i just realized during writing this that i fucked up the timeline, because tammy the muppet thompson came to sing during the basketball game, not the rally…oh well, let’s act like it was all in my intention please❤️this was fun…too bad it won’t last…see ya next chapter, buckle up❤️

Masterlist

songs:

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫

When Eddie scolded the boys for bringing Erica Sinclair as a substitute for her brother, Mairi was leaning against the wall with folded arms, not mixing in the confrontation. From what she knew about Erica, she’ll be able to put him in his place without much trouble, which turned out to be true.

Eddie’s pathetic ‘level one dwarf’ joke was swiftly pushed back and while everyone was nervous about his reaction, Maia just knew he won’t be able to resist adopting this confident little lady. When he broke into a grin and shook her hand, Maia chuckled, pushed herself off the wall and walked back to the table.

“Welcome to Hellfire.” he blessed Erica with dimples in his cheeks, she reluctantly accepted and then walked up to Maia, shaking her head.

“Is he always acting like an entitled nerdy bastard?” she questioned with a raised eyebrow while Eddie was preoccupied with the rest of the gang excitedly flattering his decorating skills.

What a prick, he didn’t even acknowledge my help.

“Uh, yup. You’re lucky you only got the dessert though, I was forced to eat a whole supper before you guys arrived.” she shrugged and looked at Erica, who’s smirk twisted into a scowl.

“I know these types of men. They just force their frustrations upon you and make you clean the shit after them.” she stated as a matter of fact, making Maia raise her eyebrows and give Erica a confused smile.

“Bloody hell, you know your shit, lady.” she chuckled and sticked out a hand.

“I’m Mairi, pleasure to finally meet you.”

Erica smiled and nodded her head, taking Maia’s hand and shaking it.

“Erica. Nice to know some nerds have a brain.” she shrugged, making Maia snort in laughter.

“Wouldn’t count on it.”

“Your accent is kinda weird, so is your name, actually. Where you from?” Erica folded her arms and leaned against the wall. Maia grinned at her forwardness.

“I’m originally from Scotland, but I moved to Hawkins during middle school.”

Erica widened her eyes and frowned.

“Why would anyone want to move into this shithole?”

“Glasgow isn’t much better, believe me.”

The younger girl giggled.

“And what should I call you?” she asked nicely, clearly wanting to make Maia her accomplice.

“Well, it’s pronounced My-ree, but it’s Maia or Mai to everyone, so whatever you like…some assholes,” she nodded in Eddie’s direction, “call me various nerdy shite, but I usually block out everything he’s saying.”

Erica giggled. “Okay Mai, I like you.” Maia grinned at the girl.

“I like you too, Erica. Better than Lucas, actually.” she whispered, making the girl giggle.

“Alright, enough chit-chatting girls, time to go.” Eddie suddenly appeared next to them, pointing his thumb at the table.

Erica rolled her eyes at him and walked by, sitting on her chair. Maia threw him a scowl, reminding him of his previous behavior. He sighed, rubbed his eyes a bit and then made his way behind his screen. He sat on his throne facing Mairi, who’s chair was at the other end of the table, perfectly centred opposite of him. The chatter between the club died out as Eddie raised his hands, silencing everyone.

The candles behind him were shining through his hair, creating an otherworldly halo around him and the toned-down light fell on his most prominent features. Maia stared at him in awe. He was a wizard sent upon this earth to bring them an unforgetable adventure, an eternal pilgrim stopping by a group of travelers to teach them about the worlds beyond our understanding. The session has begun.

・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・● ●・○・●・

“…he’s not only missing his left arm… but his left eye!” Eddie’s loud revelation echoed through the room.

The table errupted in gasps and loud groans of confusion.

“What the fuck?”

“How?!”

“That’s fucking impossible!” Maia yelled, her head in her hands.

“Vecna’s dead!”

“He was killed by Kas!” Mike exclaimed, wildly throwing his arms around. Eddie grinned.

“So it was thought, my friends, so it was thought…” he reached for a figurine behind his DM screen.

“…but Vecna…LIVES!” he exclaimed and slammed the figurine of a skinless creature in a cloak right in the centre in front of his throne. The whole party was hanging on a thread by now, everyone battered, nearly out of spell slots and exhausted.

“I say…to the death!” Dustin exclaimed.

“To the death!” Mike joined him, and suddenly the whole table including Erica was chanting, laughing and raising their cans in the air, full of hope and expectation.

Eddie sat down on the throne with a satisfied smile, meeting Maia’s eyes in the middle. Her mischievous gaze filled him with strange bliss. There it is. The passion. The determination. With a blink of an eye, he saw the ethereal warlock she portrayed sitting right in front of him, almost in his reach but so far away…swallowing him whole with her ancient eldritch magic, luring his heart into her grasp in a secret ritual of her own.

“To the death.” she mouthed his way, raised her can to beckon his way and took a swig, smirking. He cleared his throat a bit and blinked a few times to snap himself out of his thoughts.

The rest calmed down, few of them cracking their knuckles. Erica wiped her sweaty forehead with her american-flag cape, loudly exhaled and sat down with the others. Eddie looked around the table silently, relishing in the tension and then clasped his hands.

“Roll initiative.” he whispered menacingly, sending an excited shiver down Maia’s spine.

Fuck, 6…that’s not good. Eddie rolled his own dice, his facial expression not giving away any sign of emotion.

“Shit.” Erica hissed at the dice taunting her with a 3 and rolled her eyes, leaning back on the chair. The deadly silence was only disturbed by distant cheers from the gym.

“Well?” Eddie asked silently.

Everyone rolled higher except for her and Erica.

“God fucking dammit!” Erica exclaimed loudly and Maia just pinched the bridge of her nose. Eddie broke into a sly grin.

“You’re lucky, ladies, for Vecna is out of luck with this dice. He rolled a 2.”

Erica and Maia both gasped, clasping each other’s hands and exhaling with relief. Eddie’s dark smirk just grew wider and he wiggled his threatening finger at them.

“Tsk tsk tsk, I wouldn’t be so cheerful…I’ll make sure to use a different dice when it comes to attack.” he punctuated the threat with tilting his head to the side and standing up from his throne. He motioned towards Dustin.

“You’re up, my wise druid.”

・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・● ●・○・●・

“How many spell slots do you have left, Gareth?” Mike asked the boy to his right.

“Two…level one though…and it doesn’t matter, I’m Exhausted, I don’t have an Action this round…” he said, head in his palms. Mike sighed. Eddie flickered between them.

“Metagaming boys, watch out.” he threatened, folding his arms.

“Sorry. I have one left. Okay…I cast Magic Missile!” Mike exclaimed, throwing three dice on the table.

12 altogether.

“Yes!” The table errupted in laughter and clapping, then quickly shutting up and focusing on Eddie.

“Three glowing orbs flow through Vecna’s decaying body, barely making him flinch. Although…he seems to be slightly taken aback by your fierceness, my friends. 12 damage.” he nodded his head and scribbled something in his notebook. He looked up from it with a thoughtful frown.

“Vecna grows frustrated with your antics, as if he cannot believe four of you are still standing…” he paused.

“…but he’s realizing that his wrath is making him all the more powerful!” his deep voice menacingly boomed through the theatre walls. Mike gulped.

“He turns his disfigured face to Gareth the Great, raising his hand, trembling with anger far beyond your understanding. Suddenly…you feel…” he paused and slowly started clawing at his throat, acting confused.

“…your throat is starting to close. Your lungs burning from the inside…you cannot breathe, Gareth the Great! Constitution saving throw, please.”

“Wait, it’s not Vecna’s turn.” Maia questioned. Eddie smirked.

“Legendary action, halfling.”

Gareth sighed and rolled a d20. He then raised his head to look at Eddie, his face pale with fear.

“2…”

Eddie cackled menacingly. He looked behind his screen and threw a few dice. He stopped for a second and then eyed the rest of the table with a smirk, stopping at Gareth. He gulped.

“40 fire damage.”

The table errupted in swearing again, Gareth just started banging his head against the table.

“I’m down.” he muttered and nudged his figurine to fall on the map. Everyone except Eddie sighed, he just took a swig out of his goblet and stretched.

・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・● ●・○・●・

Mike’s wizard just fell on the table, shot down by Vecna’s necrotic curse. Eddie chuckled, hiding his face under a curtain of hair.

“Time-out!!!” Pete exclaimed and Eddie tapped on the table a few times, thinking…

“If you weren’t in such a desperate situation, I wouldn’t allow it, but you need all the help you can get right now. Go on.” he waved his hand to them all and they got up, standing in a circle.

“I hate to say this guys, but we gotta flee.” Gareth shamefully whispered, clearly defeated.

“Are you kidding? He only has 15 hit points left, don’t be pussies!” Dustin hissed at him.

“Run? Didn’t we just agree ‘to the death’?” Erica narrowed his eyes at him.

“That wasn’t literal! We can’t kill him with two players!”

“I say you’re cowards.”

“Because we’re not delusional???” he asked Erica furiously and she just shook her head.

Eddie just turned to them and kindly suggested that maybe backing out of the fight isn’t a bad idea. Actually, it’s a really good idea.

“There is no shame in running.” he waved his hand, his face calm and collected. “Don’t try to be heroes…not today, okay?”

Maia frowned.

“Give us a second.” she put her arm around Erica’s shoulder.

“How many hit points do you have?” Dustin questioned impatiently.

“8.”

“12.”

“I mean, it’s just you two on the field, your decision.” Mike nodded, not sure what to think. Maia turned at Erica.

“What do you say, Lady Applejack?”

“Do you really gotta ask?” Erica snickered, patting Maia’s back. She frowned and closed her eyes for a few seconds. I’m not fucking letting him go.

“Fuck this.” she exclaimed and turned around with the rest of the group. She looked Eddie dead in the eye.

“What’s your decision, Mairi the Enlightened?”

“I’ll Eldritch Blast this motherfucker back to hell.” she said through gritted teeth, hearing something about odds in her ear but didn’t pay attention to anything other than Eddie’s stare.

“Give me the 20.” she extended her palm.

Eddie smirked, clearly happy with this turn of events and threw her the dice. She deeply inhaled, kissed her closed fist and started shaking it.

“Don’t give up on me darling, not now.” she whispered as she threw the dice. It rolled through the table, bouncing off various objects in the way, then it finally stopped.

11.

“THAT’S. A. MIIIIISS.” Eddie yelled in her direction, wildly cackling in her face.

“FUCK! Fucking fuck!” she screamed and threw her figurine out of the map. All eyes were on Erica now.

“Lady Applejack? If you hit him, he’s down.” Eddie stated with a hint of excitement in his voice.

“I sneak up on that bastard and stab him through the head with my spear!” she said proudly, not wanting to let the nerves get to her.

Eddie just smiled and beckoned to her. She sighed and took the dice and started shaking it, everyone around her yelling as if they could make the dice do what they want. When she let it go, everyone stopped breathing, Eddie stood up on his throne and crouched to have a better view.

20.

The whole room was filled in screeching, laughing, yelling. Maia hugged Erica from the behind.

“Crit hit!” she repeated over and over again, jumping up and down.

Eddie jumped around, acting confused and then broke into a joyful laughter.

“That’s why we play!” he bowed to Erica when they looked at eachother, making her smile proudly. Maia caught his eye, skipping on her way to him and he grinned. He caught her in the air and spun her around, both giggling like kids. He wouldn’t have let her go if the rest didn’t join them, jumping around in a big group hug.

・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・● ●・○・●・

The crisp fresh air of Hawkins at night was refreshing to everyone, they jumped out of the school door, still pumped from the meeting. Everyone split their separate ways with many hugs and goodbyes, it was too late to go anywhere with the kids and the other boys were too exhausted to do anything else but go to sleep. Eddie and Maia were both rambling on their way to his van.

“I thought the red-eyed cultist was going to smite me off the map!”

“No, you were good, good thing you put the breastplate on this time, could’ve ended badly.” Eddie chuckled and she punched his arm.

“You were really good today, you know?” she said silently. He turned at her with a massive grin.

“Was I?”

“Oh no, I shouldn’t have said anything, now you’re going to float around Hawkins because your ego will be fucking inflated beyond limits.” she groaned, giggling. He smirked at that.

“I always knew you admired me, you just confirmed it.” he shrugged and they reached his van.

Maia leaned on the door and put hands in her pockets, nonchalantly humming.

“Wanna go for a cold one, my wise master?” she grinned and bowed to him.

He suddenly went silent, making her think she fucked up. Just as she opened her mouth to speak, he interrupted her.

“I’d love to but uhhh, I gotta go…” he contemplated lying to her, but that would make everything worse. I’m not doing anything wrong.

“It’s just…when I met up with Chrissy, she wanted some stuff I didn’t have with me, so I offered her to…you know, drop by my place and get it.” he tried to say without any hint of emotion, struggling to look into her eyes.

Her grin slowly faded but she quickly put it on again.

“Oh! No problem then, I was just asking. I gotta run anyways, I have an early shift tommorow.” she giggled nervously and patted his arm. Fuck, that’s not good.

“Okay, see you tommorow then?” he asked softly, he didn’t want to apologize for anything because that would be just even more suspicious. Lady Macbeth was a smart girl. She backed away from him, nodding way too enthusiastically.

“Yep, thanks for tonight!” she waved at him and quickly turned her back on him.

No handshake, no talk about the handcuffing situation, nothing. He cursed under his breath and punched the roof of the van.

“Ed?”

He snapped his head at her, hoping she’ll come back so he can explain everything to her, hoping she’ll say something, question him about it, anything.

“Yep?”

“Just…wrap it before you tap it!” she tried to let out a genuine laugh and gave him thumbs up, turning right back and walked away before he could say anything.

He just banged his head on the roof and kicked the tire, angrily getting inside the car.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫

Tag list: @kik51199 @preciousbabypeter @sebby-staan

[sukirichi]

earned it [02]

Gojo Satoru is a firm believer that if you work hard for it then you shall earn it. But on the other side, he’s not unfamiliar with his own sins. He also believes that there is punishment due for his sins as he’s earned it.

cw. mentions of murder, suggestive content, unedited fic

notes. err, i’m only doing this on impulse. i would like to continue it, but i think part one stands enough for itself :> i might delete this if i don’t like it a few days later lollll

series masterlist

Your infamous customer hadn’t arrived even as the restaurant closed. You watched close enough, fidgety in your movements and often bumping into other servers, all because your gaze kept darting back to the front door, awaiting his presence.

There’s no actual reason why you want to see him. Maybe it’s because he left an impression? The guy didn’t even budge after finding out someone had snuck into the kitchen to poison him, leaving you to wonder why anyone wanted to kill him. Not that it was any of your business, but you figured it was only common between powerful people who are equally greedy. Still, you’re unfocussed in your work, apologizing every now and then when your boss shook their head at you.

Thankfully, you managed to get back to your old pace. Thoughts of the white-haired tall man left the room at the same time everyone did, leaving only you and your boss in the locker room. You ended up working two shifts again on this weekend, your co-worker asking you to cover for them due to sudden family issues.

It’s tiring, that much is for sure, but you won’t complain when it’s more money down in your pocket. You’re dazzled, however, as you leave the locker room and see that your main chefs are still there.

Upon seeing you, they immediately usher you into a lone table, table 98 that remained untouched the whole night, a two lit candles illuminating the otherwise darkness of the isolated restaurant. Only this time, it’s occupied by him no less, his azure eyes flittering up to yours at the sound of your hesitant footsteps.

You’ve been looking for him the whole night, yet now that he’s in front of you, you don’t have any words to say. Instead, you bow down deep, the hands clasped in your lap shaking.

“S-Sir.”

“No need to be so nervous. I only wish to discuss something with you,” his laugh is so carefree, lighthearted as he gestures to the empty spot across him. “Take a seat,” Wordlessly, you foolow his orders and dash down to the seat, spine straight and head held high. There’s a hint of amusement in his small smile, but he doesn’t tease you, save for the lilting tone he held. “So you’re in sophomore year of university?”

“Yes, Sir. How’d you know?” You furrowed your brows, unsure of whether you’re supposed to expensive meal served in two.

Gosh, and this was on page three too, a single meal cost at least six months’ worth of rent.

“I pulled a string or two,” he lifts one shoulder lazily, waving his knife in the air. “And please, call me Satoru. Assuming we come to an understanding, things will go well for the both of us. You are in need of financial aid, yes?” You nod, utterly clueless in where this is leading, but Satoru’s already made up his mind long before he came here that he found no need in beating around the bush.

“Good. Then what do you say about being my sugar baby?”

“S-sugar baby?” you repeat the word first in confusion, then with distaste. He simply hums around the meat he’s eating, as if it’s a normal occurrence for him to inquire such things, and you scoff, crossing your arms on your chest.

You don’t care that this guy is your precious customer – he was just the same as everyone else.

“Is that the reason why you asked me to stay behind? Do you think you can just pay people to sleep with you? It may have worked on others, but not to me. I would rather keep my dignity than be with you,” you breathe hard after your rant, slapping your palms down on the table. The impact of it makes the table shake, his hand reflexively reaching to steady his wine glass. “As for what happened yesterday, you don’t have to thank me about it. I did what any right-minded person would.”

“And if I said I never wanted to be saved?” he asks, his tone still so calm that it further infuriates you. You stare at him, stunned and mouth gaping. “Sit down. I didn’t mean it that way.”

“Thank you for graciousness, Sir, but I really don’t—”

“Angel,” You freeze at the nickname. He chuckles with his forehead pressed to his clasped hands, “Do you really think I need to pay people to sleep with me? I could have anyone I want,” his voice falls an octave or two, the sonorous warning rumbling something…alien inside your body. You stand there, unable to move, and he easily sees through this as he hides a smirk behind his drink. “Sit down. I’m not done talking to you.”

You don’t know what snapped in you to actually follow, but his words weren’t just that. They were always laced with eased dominance, the words leaving his lips coming out as a command. No, it was more like a hypnotizing order, and you’re nothing but a puppet enslaved by it.

His smile only grows bigger, and you hate that he looks ridiculously handsome under the dim lights of the room. Life would’ve been much easier if this man had been ugly.

“As I was saying, this relationship should be casual, no strings attached. I’d prefer if you’re exclusive to me, and in return, I’ll cover all your school fees and everything else. As for the sex,” he cuts his eyes straight to yours, an intense burning heat in them. You squirm in your seat, a little intimidated, albeit excited, by this proposition too, though you’d rather die than let him know that, “I don’t need that from you. I just want someone to talk to.”

“You’re paying me to talk to you?”

“No,” he chuckles, “I’m saying you form a relationship with me in exchange of financial aid. You’d be similar to a lover, nothing less of a friend,” he stares at his drink so hard like he was having a debate with it. A few seconds later, he found his answer, the gleam in his eyes surreptitious as he says, “Someone I can trust.”

You huff. Surely it wasn’t easy as that. “Why me?”

“No reason,” he shrugged, “I just find you endearing, that is all,” You lean back on your seat, trying to process all this. The hesitance must be written all over your face because he adjusts his tie, sliding a white business card your way before sliding his chair back in. At least he’s well-mannered enough to do that. “You can take your time to think about it. There’s no need to rush.”

Somehow, seeing his figure retreat triggers something within you. You watch as silhouettes emerge from the darkness trail after him; must be his security team, serving as an additional note that what you so struggled to achieve was likely nothing for him.

Was it fear? Desperation? Shame?

You don’t know, you won’t ever really know, but you run up to him anyway, brave enough to tug at his sleeve. The guards surrounding him tense up at the contact, stepping away only when he raises a finger that spoke a thousand words.

“You-you’ll pay for everything?”

With his back turned to you, you failed to see that victorious grin he wore. “And everything more,” he reassured. He turns around to confirm your submission, but you’re quivering under his towering frame, poor hands clutched around the card so tightly he won’t be surprised if you break it. He chuckles, coaxing the worries out of you as he caresses your cheek, his breath evident of expensive liquor hitting your cheeks. “Relax, angel. It’s not like you’re selling your soul to the devil.”

Your pupils blow wide at the close proximity. If he was attractive before, it’s nothing compared to the clarity of his sharp, angular features that are softened by his playful smile. Oddly enough, his thumb caressing your cheeks is tender yet calloused.

There’s no telling when who put who under a spell, because you’re clutching helplessly at his suit jacket, whispering, “Am I not?”

You are, he wants to say, but you’re so innocent, so vulnerable – such an angel, he can’t help but hum in his head – that he doesn’t have the heart to let you know. He already knew things were bound to fall out of place one another, but until that hasn’t happened yet, he’ll have to keep you close. He’ll make you his.

“I’ll take good care of you,” he declares so confidently that you couldn’t even question his capability to do so you, and for a moment, just a moment, your knees weaken under his stare. “Now that, I can promise.”

Should you have pulled away then? When he leaned down to seal the contract with a kiss, should you have pulled away then? Or better yet, could you even pull away then?

You’ve been so alone your whole life that each moment with him is awakening, soul-crushing, mind-shattering and so damn weakening that you should’ve pulled away then. If anyone were to tell you you’d share your first kiss after work hours with a man whose name you don’t even know of, you’d tell them they were crazy, crazier if they claimed you would enjoy it.

But you did. Oh, you did, you were addicted to him – his taste, his scent, his touch, everything about him – that when he pulled away, taking away every last breath in your lung that formerly remained taint-free by him, you’re left wanting. Craving.

And he knows this. How could he not? Your eyes are hazy with lust, chest pressed against his firm ones that would soon be the same body you found home over and over again.  You’re not the only left intoxicated from this sudden agreement. Whatever you feel, he feels it twice as much after years of watching you from the sidelines, asking himself a million times over what it is about you that pulled him in so much in the first place.

The innocence? The dedication? The youthful naivety?

Gojo wants to laugh at himself. It was never any of those – he simply wanted to fool himself that maybe he’s worthy of this, of your love, of your purity. He’s selfish, manipulative, heartless, and he wants nothing more than someone like you to make him feel like he’s everything he’s not.

He steps forward to brush his nose against yours; breathing in the tiny gasps you reward him with. And he’s barely even touched you.

“I look forward to our next meeting,” he rasps, butterfly touches all the way down your back to hold you flush against him, letting you feel that he’s all muscle and hardness, while you’re the complete opposite, composed of softness and little ghosting kisses. Perhaps when he gives you by a name, he was right to call you –  “My Angel.”

The loud blaring of your alarm cuts through the silence of the room, its shrill sound piercing your ears. You groan, blindly patting the bedside table to swipe snooze. The spot next to you has been cold for a while now, but it’s normal for Satoru to leave early for work that you burrow yourself deeper in the covers. Five more minutes of sleep shouldn’t be so bad; it’s the weekend, anyway. You’ve got nothing else to do.

Waking up after that, on the other hand, now that is an impending task on itself.

You’re beyond sore, your inner thighs littered with handprints and your shoulder covered in love bites. “Jeez,” you mutter to yourself, stepping out of the bathroom. Tying your robe around you, you go out your shared bedroom, rubbing your eyes to get the sleep out.

It’s past noon already – Satoru really wore you out. And fuck, you could barely walk. You had to grip the counters just to sit on the stools, and even then, you’re wincing from the pain.

He should be doing paperwork in his office right now or something; he never really told you what to do. You don’t feel like asking either since he’s made it clear he prefers to keep his personal life, well…personal. But nevertheless, you swing your legs back and forth on the stool, texting him a quick I love you baby :)

Satoru doesn’t reply.

Usually, he’d respond in a few minutes, always supplied with a wink and an eggplant emoji. It was so him to act this way, that when those few minutes turned into a few hours and you’re met with radio silence, you can’t help but worry.

You try to brush it off, ignoring the deafening silence that rings all over his penthouse. He’s busy, he’s working, he’s got things to do – that’s all it is.

You convince yourself hard enough that you’ve cleaned the place until it’s sparkling, your reflection bouncing off the black marble floors. Every minute, though, your mind would race back to him. Not thinking about him proved to be a really daunting task because you think of him when you’re eating, reminiscing the way he’d always surprise you with a back hug, muttering morning angel all over your skin just to distract you from your meal. You think of him as you’re killing time with boring dramas; if he was here, he’d nudge your leg with his foot, pushing your shorts until it exposes your panties. He’d make sure you don’t get to focus at all, riling you up and kissing you hard that the show playing becomes nothing but background noise. You think of him, you dream of him, you remember him – and yet, you can’t feel him.

Nails bitten down to the skin, you scramble for your phone, swiping call over his contact. It doesn’t go through. Now that’s another odd thing; Satoru never fails to pick up your calls.

“He’s just busy,” you lie to yourself, telling the same thing over and over again even as night falls and you’re staring at the empty left side of the bed, hands smoothing over where the curve of his body would’ve been. “He’s just busy,” you say once more, giving into the exhaustion brought on by your worries. “He’ll come home soon. He always will.”

Except he didn’t.

And that was two weeks ago.

“Angel, I got you—” Satoru immediately clamps his shut, his footsteps muted as he walks closer to you. You’ve been dating for a few months now, and you’re still very wary of the nature of your relationship so you refuse to move in with him. He doesn’t mind, he respects your space and decisions, but now he’s starting to regret letting you have your way. You’re hunched over your swiveling chair, cheek pressed against the opened textbook and glasses perched on your hair. The lamp desk illuminates the dark circles lining your eyes, his heart breaking at the sight.

Thanks to his help, you’ve been able to spend more time focusing on your studies. It should be comforting, but Satoru’s heart aches as he thinks of what you’ve been like prior to meeting him.

How long have you stayed up all night just to pass your exams? How long have you cried yourself to sleep, unable to handle the burden placed by the world on your shoulders at such a young age? How long have you had to turn down friends’ invites to parties with a forced smile because you had to go to work? How many times have you stared at a failing mark, teeth clenched because you studied well for it; your exhaustion just got the best of you and muddled your brain?

Satoru places the beer and dinner he’s got you on his way back home on top of your one-man dining table, pressing a kiss at the top of your head. You look so beautiful this way – unaware, unknowing, and focused in nothing but the future ahead of you that you don’t bother yourself with his past.

Perhaps…it was comforting, after all.

He’d rather have you worry over your own studies than worry about him. Satoru can’t stomach the idea of you – his precious angel – being involved in his own shit, possibly get caught between the crossfire. It pains him to say it, but he doesn’t want you getting too close for comfort.

So he stays there by your side, simply because it would expel all ideas of you wanting to be beside him. He’ll be right where you’re safe, and the sigh that leaves your lips when he moves you to your bed, fitting in his long, lanky bed on your cramped mattress an immense struggle. As if feeling that you’re finally home, you snuggle closer to his chest, murmuring sweet nothings that tug at his heartstrings.

Satoru rubs circles at your back, staring so hard at the chipped paint on your wall that he’s sure he’s got it burned in his memory.

Now that he thinks about it, he should’ve been satisfied with that. He should’ve held back in his desire to have more of you. He should’ve just tucked you in and left, but he was never really in control of himself. Before he knew it, he’s pulled in by you too much, encouraging him to move in with you under the lie it’s easier to keep an eye on you.

Had he just left you earlier…would things have been different then?

He’s asked himself this question too many times. Satoru always came to one conclusion. He loved you way too much that it consumed him, and soon the love he held for you slowly burned you inch by inch. The only way to save you was to pull away – but he wasn’t ready for that yet, not now – but he’s too scared, too deep in love that he ignores the warning signals and holds you close instead, finding comfort in the warmth of your arms.

Fuck. Satoru downs his second drink, glaring at everyone beneath his shades. Geto snickers beside him, sending side eyes to his boss every now and then just to check. Of course, Satoru’s not actually going to pass out, he was no lightweight, but he’d been uneasy every since that pretentious gold envelope landed on his desk.

One of the downsides of being a mafia leader meant you had to mingle with other clan shit, including him of all people. There were always new leaders popping out of nowhere, Satoru quote unquoting, criminals be spawning like maniacs.

For fourteen years – fourteen fucking years – his clan had been in bad blood with the Zen’ins. They were pretty new in the illegal side of business, starting off as a powerful name in the trade industry before they got interested in oil. One thing led to another, the family began to realize they could have so much more if they turned a blind eye to a law or to, soon shifting into illegal weaponry trade, human trafficking, then drug manufacturing.

These bastards had the audacity to insult the Gojo Clan when Satoru’s family dropped by to strike a contract out of curiosity to their goods, only to be turned down because they’re ‘barbaric’ and ‘informal.’

Satoru still remembers that humiliating moment of being escorted out by bodyguards, but he held his head high, vowing to show that bastard Zen’in guy that the Gojo’s were one of the powerhouses for a reason. He doesn’t even know where the elderly guy got his confidence from. Mafia business was not the same as their former expertise, yet they acted all high and mighty with their rules and standard of being sophisticated even in a life or death situation.

Gojo doesn’t know whether he should be happy or sad that the old man died, his son taking over just as soon as his father perished. He would’ve celebrated with a whiskey or two, except the new clan leader was quite adamant in cleaning up their name to prove he would not create the same mistake his father did.

The new leader threw a large cruise party, inviting pretty much everyone they were chummy with, and Satoru has never felt more out of place. He recognized a face or two, but he couldn’t really give a fuck. He hated events like this – it was all about establishing power and face.

Satoru groaned under his breath, swiping at another flute as a waiter passed by. He felt the bubbles fizzle down his throat, the slight burning sensation somewhat easing his nerves.

He leans back at the wall and checks his watch for what seemed like the hundredth time that night. It’s been two fucking hours since they arrived, and the host still hadn’t arrived. If they planned on being ‘fashionably late’ Satoru won’t hesitate to slice someone’s neck tonight. He hates his time being wasted the most, and his eyes slid over to his friend’s still posture, looking like he just saw a ghost.

“Suguru,” he sighs through his mouth, “Don’t be so tense. This is a formal event – no blood will be shed tonight.” Suguru had a weird skill of being able to read Satoru’s thoughts that he raised his hands in surrender, silently promising that he’s not going to kill anyone.

“You’re not sure of that.”

“I won’t lose my composure, if that’s what you’re worried about,” he rolls his eyes, not looking back as he effortlessly places the empty glass back to another waiter. Satoru stands next to his friend, sucking his teeth out of boredom. Suguru, on the other hand, is tenser than ever, his eyes locked onto something in the middle of the crowd that began to cheer.

Faintly, somewhere at the back of his mind, Satoru hears someone whistle in signal. A few seconds later, the fireworks are lit and decorate the night sky, bursts of gold and beauty accompanying the entrance of the woman who’s so effortlessly caught everyone’s eye tonight.

Satoru is rooted to his spot, taking off his glasses the same time the crowd parts. Then, his breath is knocked away from his body, his heart pumping so hard he actually struggled to breathe.

Because you’re there, smiling and waving at the crowd as if it’s second nature to you. Seven years of being apart from one another and Satoru is still bewitched each time he lays his eyes on you. You’re the same…from your face down to the angelic feeling you always carried, but at the same time, you’re different. Gone was his precious angel who shied away from too much attention, his precious angel who would’ve never worn such a bodacious ring embedded on her left ring finger. Your smile is more charismatic, confident, and even fierce compared to the small, private ones you always shared with him – he almost couldn’t recognize you.

As if feeling someone’s eyes on you, you spot him leaning languidly against the walls, those lips you used to kiss turned downwards.

Seven years ago, you would’ve kissed him until he smiles again, singing to your pouty and clingy boyfriend who never voiced out the reason of his troubles. Seven years ago, he would’ve carried you and swung you around, showering you with affection as he reminds you how lucky he is to have you.

But this was no longer the past – that much is clear from when he left you without another word.

Still, you smile at him, an empty one that showed nothing but concealed anger. He was sure though, so fucking sure, that for a split second, he saw you light up. That may have been seven years ago, but you loved each other to the point of insanity – surely you still held some sort of fondness of him.

Satoru takes long, self-assured stride towards you, his gaze never leaving yours with his hands tucked into his pockets. There’s no telling what he’ll do, but in his mind, it’s clear.

You still love him, he still loves you. He’ll do something about it. It doesn’t matter what, he just will. That was until a young man closer to your age with blond hair and pierced earrings, narrow feline eyes lined with eyeliner hobbles beside you, his weight supported by a cane that Satoru stops in his movements.

He’d recognize that face anywhere.

The youngest and perhaps most mischievous leader of them all, Naoya Zen’in. Albeit not as hard-headed as his father in comparison with his rather laid-back and welcoming nature, Satoru knows a monster when he sees it. It takes one to know one, after all, and despite the heir being crippled from a former accident, his intelligence and power was not to be overlooked through his appearance and coy smiles.

In fact, he might even be more dangerous than his old man, this theory only proven when his arms snake around your waist. The matching rings gleam from under the light, and you press yourself closer to him to whisper in his ear, your attention very much still on Satoru.

Satoru’s entire body burns.

“Still there, Sir?” Suguru asks, gripping his boss’ bicep to hold him back. Smart of him, Satoru exhales through his nose, unable to stop his glare from darting to your husband’s.

He’s heard of you, of him, of how his most annoying rival had a phenomenal trophy wife who looked harmless at first look, but was actually the brains of most of his operations. Satoru forgets how to breathe normally because he’s heard of you, and the rumors he’s gotten wind of about Naoya’s trophy wife are nothing less of how dedicated and perfect the two of you are.

Slapping Suguru’s arm away from him, Satoru grits his teeth. “Get me a drink.”

His precious angel was gone. No, this woman that stood before him…you were an entirely different entity, something darker, something along the lines that were more like him.

What exactly happened the day he left you?

taglist: @ladywaifuuwrites​ @savantsoulfinder​ @my-reality-is-in-my-head​ tagging the ones who asked for part 2, please let me know if you’d like to be added or removed!

[glowingbadger]

If you don't mind, could you write a nsfw Linhardt and fem Byleth? Like maybe it's been a long day (well night) of researching crests and Byleth decides Linhardt needs a break?

Whadduuuuup finally an excuse to write Lin- I love that beautiful weirdo lmao. That said, since I do self-ship stuff and Byleth is essentially a self-insert anyway, I'm gonna do my usual XReader perspective for this, but y'all can easily mentally sub in Byleth there if you want, too.

Linhardt (FE3H) x Fem/AFAB Reader

NSFW 18+ v

There's only one place to find Linhardt at this hour of the night- or, very, very early morning, as it were. You try to quiet your footsteps on hardwood and tile as you make your way through the Monastery's halls towards the library. Unsurprisingly, you don't pass any others on your way. Even the most eccentric of your allies tends to keep some sort of sleep schedule. Lin has more of a sleep hobby. But if he's caught up in his research as you suspect, then he may need to be coaxed to his bed tonight.

Sure enough, you pass through the rows of bookcases toward Lin's favorite secluded corner, tucked away and currently riddled with chaotic stacks of thick, dusty tomes. A candle has burned nearly to a stub on the table beside him, and he's seated in a cushioned armchair that you're frankly surprised hasn't lulled him to sleep already. On the contrary, his eyes scan the page before him with precise and unwavering focus. You wear a small, private smile as you approach him, unsurprised that he doesn't seem to take notice of you. You do take the opportunity to admire his lovely features, eyelashes fluttering subtly as he reads, slender fingers absently toying with the ends of his hair.

"Oh, Liiiinhardt," you say softly as you reach him. As expected, he gives no reply.

"Linhardt?" you repeat a little louder. His eyebrows raise the slightest bit, and he gives a curt,

"Hm?"

You nearly laugh. Instead, you roll your eyes with a grin and say,

"You're up past your bed time."

"Oh, I see." he says, his tone confident though you can tell he has no idea what you just said to him. This time, you do give a short, snorting laugh. Then, gently, you lean close and raise a hand to comb his hair behind his ear, your fingertips tracing its shell along the way. Lin shivers, his eyes suddenly alert, and he glances up at you.

"Ah- Y/N," he says, pleasantly surprised, "You have business in the library tonight?"

"I do, as a matter of fact," you prod his cheek with a finger, "getting you to bed, namely."

He pauses, then glances back at the book in his hands.

"Right, of course- I'll be there as soon as I finish-"

"Nope, no excuses."

He sighs irritably.

"Come now, you know that I will get the sleep I need in my own time. If I go now, I'll be far too agitated by my need to continue this particular inquiry to get any substantial rest."

In its own way, Linhardt's logic makes sense. But you know fully well that it isn't healthy for him long-term, and you're not about to be defeated so easily. You first make a passing attempt at pouting, which he resolutely ignores. It seems you'll have to resort to a bolder plan of action.

You situate yourself carefully on Linhardt's lap, the armchair more than large enough for both of you as you straddle his hips. He looks about to reprimand you at first, but then, your hands run along the sensitive contours of his neck to cradle his face, and you draw close, murmuring,

"Are you sure there's nothing I can do to convince you to come to bed?"

At last, he begins to set aside his book. His free hand slides up the curve of your thigh and along the swell of your hip, and he says with a hint of a grin,

"You plan to seduce me away from my studies? That's a novel strategy."

You feel his cock twitch with interest against you, gradually rising as you press your body to his. Your hands run down his chest as you lean in to kiss the corner of his jaw.

"Well?" you prompt him. His tone is casually amused, though you do feel his breathing quicken just slightly as your lips tease a line down the side of his neck.

"Actually... I think I'd rather have you right here."

Before you can reply, Lin's gentle yet compelling touch urges you towards his lips. He kisses you slow and deep, the way he does when he's really savoring you, and you give a whimpering sigh as you melt against him. It's almost frustrating- he's taken all the fight out of you at once, made you too eager. It barely even occurs to you that you probably shouldn't be getting intimate in the library.

"Lin-!" You had meant to ask if he was sure about this, but his hand slides under your shirt and up your back, pulling you against him. His tongue pushes past your lips, and you moan softly as it teases yours. Soon, things are moving too quickly for your hesitation to keep up. You're hot and wet between your thighs, your nerves over-attentive to even his slightest touch, and each time you feel his manhood throb against your body, you imagine it nestled deep inside of you.

"Mmh... Please, Lin..." you whisper, so close that your lips brush his as you speak.

"You're so troublesome tonight," he muses, though he brings his lips to the crook of your neck, nibbling gently on sensitive skin. Still, he concedes with a sigh, "well I suppose, given the circumstances, I shouldn't spend overly long enjoying you. A shame, truly."

You chew at your bottom lip, your fists clenched tight around the front of his clothes as his tongue pulsing hot against your skin sends waves of pleasure through you. One could say that Linhardt has researched you thoroughly since you've been together. Ordinarily, he likes to take his time with you, his touch delicate yet unabashed across every inch of your body. He'll gradually toy with you, delving into your pleasure with all of the focus and commitment he affords to his studies. By now, he's become an expert in your every preference and sensitive spot.

In your darkened corner of the library, however, it would be unwise to indulge in the usual extensive foreplay. So instead, you stand just long enough to tug off your breeches before resting back on his lap, your heart thudding with anticipation. You're not certain when it began, but there's a sort of unspoken exchange between you at times like this; he only needs to nudge you in a direction, and you follow. So when he silently urges you close on his lap and tugs at the hem of your shirt, you understand to open the front of your remaining clothing, baring yourself for him as you lean your body firm against his. You're immediately rewarded with his soft lips around one of your nipples, his tongue teasing it stiff in the warmth of his mouth. You bite back a moan, though a hand trails up his jawline and into thick green hair, holding him close until your breasts press against him and you mindlessly grind your lower body onto his growing erection. Soon enough, your chest is dotted with reddened love-bites. You pant softly into the quiet of the library, but gasp aloud at the sudden feeling of Linhardt's fingers up your inner thigh.

"You're soaked," he says conversationally as his touch reaches your lower lips. You lean close, your hips rutting you against his fingers eagerly as you whisper against his ear,

"Please..."

Linhardt gives a short chuckle, muttering,

"Very well, I won't be cruel to you."

With a minute to shift on the chair and work open the front of his trousers, you soon feel the tip of Lin's cock pressing between your folds, spreading you open around him. He lets out a low, groaning sigh, and his eyes flutter shut for a moment as he feels you slowly enveloping him, squeezing tight around his member as gentle hands at your thighs urge you downward. A pleasured whine escapes your lips when you reach the base, your cunt pulsing and aching as he fills you completely. But before you can move your hips, Lin's grip at your thigh tightens, and you recognize the signal to keep still. You're about to protest, but instead, you gasp out as his thumb finds your clit and expertly applies just a little pressure.

"Ohh-! Lin...!" your head tilts back as he holds you, your pussy full of his twitching length and his fingers teasing your clit. All the while, those lavender eyes level on you and watch your expressions with an intense focus that almost distracts you from the assault of pleasure he's subjecting you to. Embarrassment burns in your cheeks, but you keep yourself from hiding it- you know Linhardt wants to see your expressions. Lips parted, breath heavy, your thighs tremble, struggling to keep you upright on his lap. It's not long before each jolt up through your core as his expert fingers rub across the sensitive bud seems to bring you to the edge of your climax. Panting, you force yourself to meet his gaze, and you're rewarded with the sensation of his cock swelling inside of you in reply.

"Cum for me, Y/N," he says softly, his fingers massaging you harder and a bit faster, "Let me feel it. Let me see it."

As though triggered by his voice alone, you feel the warm rush up through your core almost immediately. Your eyes roll back, your fists tightening and digging your nails along his chest. Biting hard at your lip to keep quiet, your thighs shake violently as you cum around his cock, that tingling white heat working its way quickly through you. Then, you slump forward against Lin's chest. You expect him to laugh at first- you must make for a pathetic sight. Instead, he kisses your hair tenderly, and begins to move his hips.

Coated in your release, he easily fucks into you from below, the friction slow and deep and wonderful. Your hands paw at his chest and you bury your face at the base of his neck, inhaling the scent of his hair as you cling to him. Goddess, Linhardt knows your body too well. The languid sway of his hips has him grinding along exactly the right spots inside of you. Yet his placade expressions can't camouflage the effect that watching your orgasm had on him. His cock throbs incredibly hard inside of you, his chest rises and falls with his panting breath. When he finally groans your name aloud, his voice is laden with such overwhelming lust that you know his own climax isn't far off.

You want to feel it. You want it badly enough that you rally the remaining strength in your lower body to grind your hips with his, matching his rhythm until each thrust guides his cockhead to your deepest point and sheaths him in you to the base. Without thinking, you press your lips to his neck, just below the corner of his jaw. It's one of the few spots you know will provoke him, and sure enough, he utters a low groan and bucks up into you harder, his pace stuttering slightly. Then, you bite, a little harder than usual. Lin gasps, his head leaning back as your teeth soon leave an angry red mark on his lovely skin. You're almost never this rough with him- but perhaps you should be. He breathes out your name like a sacred mantra, then holds deep inside of you as his cum bursts out within you. His cock pulses with each wave of his climax as he spills into your soaked pussy, and you never let up at his neck, biting and kissing him until he's spent. With a final strained moan, you feel his length throb once more, and he slumps into the armchair beneath you.

The two of you enjoy the quiet together for a few lovely, glowing moments. You rest your head on his shoulder, and he kisses your hair and nuzzles against you, evidently in no hurry to remove his member from your warmth. Once you've both caught your breath, you sweetly say,

"Bed?"

He laughs and presses another tender kiss to the top of your head.

"Well, I suppose you have thoroughly distracted me."

[atlas-of-a-human-soul]

Draw your swords, pt. 2

Summary: While marriage was the last thing he’d want, especially with his enemies’ daughter, the Darkling isn’t above playing dirty to get what he wants. But his wish for a wedding night turns sour once he realizes his bride is anything but a weak human.

Warnings: angst, swearing, sexual references

Part one   

===========================

Walking down a hall, Y/N felt her heart drop as they neared a room meant for them. Glancing over her shoulder, she realized Darkling’s faithful Grisha followed them every step of the way.

Stopping moments before she walked into her now husband, Y/N turned on her heel. With a smile believable to anyone with an outsider’s perspective, she folded her hands before her abdomen.

“Did you guys enjoy the wedding?” Her voice is light, cheerful even. It felt odd, enough for Kirigan’s eyes to narrow at Ivan and Fedyor who replied simultaneously.

“Yes.” “No.”

Chuckling, she raised her eyebrows, “Well, did you both attend the same wedding?”

Swallowing thickly, Fedyor decided to speak for Ivan who was still disgruntled nearly as much as Kirigan.

“The wedding was perfect and you were a vision.”

Humming, she nods, “I’m glad it wasn’t a waste of time for you as it was for me. Good evening.” Turning her back on their flabbergasted faces, Y/N lifted her chin before entering the room on her own.

She could hear Kirigan’s annoyed sigh as he dismissed his Grisha, but the sound of the doors closing truly rattled her insides. Looking to him, she held her breath to stop a shuddered one from escaping her.

"I understand it's not what you expected", he smiled frostily. "I had plans that didn't include you either. But I suppose we'll both have to make do."

She scoffed, narrowing her eyes, "Make do?"

It was their wedding night, doors shut with no witnesses and the marriage arranged for the two of them felt like a noose tied around her neck. She swallows thickly, hyper aware of the bed dominating the room behind her and her hands, wrapped in each other behind her back have begun to tremble.

The general she married leaned back against the door, looking her up and down with a smile of slow appreciation. "Well, you are mine now."

"I may be tied to you by state laws, but I am not yours", she spat.

"No", he smirked, "Not yet." He peels away from the doors, stepping closer. He takes off his black kefta, draping it on a chair. Beginning to unbutton his black, silk shirt, the General looked at her as if she were a caged bird meant for his amusement.

"There are some traditions for tonight", he took one step toward her as he hummed.

"Are you familiar with the word defenestration?" She raised her voice ever so slightly, refusing to step back in fright. He does not get to challenge her and win. Not now, not ever. She does not draw back in a fight, her father taught her so.

"No", he raised an eyebrow, unsure what she means.

"If you come anywhere close to me", she growled out, "I will make sure you find out first hand."

"Don't be so quick to dismiss a good time", he purred, coming closer.

"Oh please, my heel is bigger than your dick."

Raising his eyebrows, the Darkling nearly scoffed at her confidence in this matter. "How can you be so sure when you've never even seen it?"

"No man with anger like yours could ever have something in his pants worth my time."

"You are my wife, are you not?" He narrowed his eyes at her and she rolled hers in contempt.

"Unfortunately."

"Glad you're aware of it", he licks his lips, "Means we're on the same page."

"Same page? We're not even in the same book!"

Those eyes of hers, as fierce and unperturbed by anything he did, could swallow stars and galaxies and universes. As far as he's concerned, she did for he could see them all mirrored in the defiance she locked her gaze onto his with.

"This", he whispers aggressively. "You", he presses closer until his lips are but a faint inhale away from hers, "Are mine. He gazes down at her, gauging her reaction, his eyes burning.

"You're a demon", she speaks through gritted teeth. "I don't trust demons, I don't lay with demons", she pushed against his chest with both her hands, "All you do is destroy."

"I’d say the same thing about you, human."

Rolling her eyes at him, she refuses to relent. Her body is tense, her neck aching from looking up at his dark presence she would not bend before. She isn’t a horse to be broken, she’s a soldier, her father’s daughter.

“Why are you glaring at me?” He grumbled, his lips nearly brushing against hers and she noticed.

Her heart skipped a beat once she realized just how close he is, “I’m hoping you’ll combust spontaneously.”

Raising an eyebrow, a cold smile forms on his lips, “Ah, how cute. But you’re no Inferni.”

“I’m better”, she brought her knee up so swiftly he didn’t see it coming. As her knee collided right between his legs, Kirigan bent over, bellowing in pain.

“Don’t you know who I am?!” He growled with fury, struggling to straighten up. Forced to look up at the smug smile upon her lush, rosy lips, Kirigan never felt more enraged by a woman before.

“I do.” Shrugging, she sat at the bottom of the bed. “I just don’t fucking care. You don’t scare me.”

His gaze felt like fire, setting every inch of her skin aflame and she couldn’t help but wonder if it was hate or lust that burned so bright within him….within her. Either way, she knew she’d be teasing him like this every day if it meant he’d look at her like that. She always did like playing with fire, Inferni or not, and Kirigan just made himself an easy target.

On one knee, he gripped the sheets in an attempt to pull himself up, yet all he could do is groan and clutch his groin.

Gripping his chin, she locked her gaze on him with an unforgivable disobedience. “I wasn’t born to be soft and quiet. I’m not a dutiful wife who desperately seeks your attention. I’m a general’s daughter. I was born to make the world shatter and shake at my fingertips.” Turning his head to the door, she leans in and whispers in his ear. “And now you can leave while your manhood is still relatively untouched.”

“I could kill you for this”, the Darkling threatens, wishing he could wrap his hands around her pretty little neck and squeeze the resistance out of her along with her life.

“I’d like to see you try”, she sneered. Standing abruptly, she turned her back on him.

Sitting with his back against the doorframe, Darkling glared at her with burning passion – for vengeance, of course. While he assumed she’d be difficult, he didn’t presume her to be as strong-willed. A part of him was certain she’d cave once he turned on his charm, but she never allowed him to.

Noticing her hand movement, he quickly realized she’s unbuttoning her kefta as well. In seconds, his eyes widen as she slips the kefta off her shoulders and it falls to the floor. Nothing but a sheer gown hugs her body so tightly, the Darkling felt his breath stop in his throat.

Glancing over her shoulder, her eyes fixed on him, “Do you have no manners?”

She kept her eyes locked on his as she turned, opened her gown and slipped it from her shoulders, exposing her body to him. In his eyes appeared a mix of hunger and desire in such intensity that she was both excited and frightened.

“I’m the only one allowed to look at you, that’s a right you can’t strip me of.”

In time it takes for a heartbeat to echo in her ears, the Darkling stood before her. She took a shuddering breath as he gathered her into his embrace.

“Are you planning on forcing yourself onto me?” Y/N’s jaw clenched as her nostrils flare.

Pressing his lips together, his dark eyes narrow in disbelief, “Do you honestly believe me to be so evil?”

Speaking through gritted teeth, she remarks, “Yes.”

Nodding, her purses his lips. Raising his hands in mock surrender, Kirigan moves away from her. He straightens his back, finishing unbuttoning his shirt until the end – just before he lets it fall to the ground.

She swallows thickly, refusing to look anywhere below his chin. For a moment, she could have sworn a flash of hurt crossed his eyes, but she blamed the candlelight for the deceit. There is nothing good, nothing human in general Kirigan. He cannot feel hurt and she refused to let him past her defenses. She will not feel for him, she will not fall for him. He’s a task she had to manage, nothing more.

Unzipping his pants, he took the rest of his clothes off.

Her eyes flicker to his middle as he heads to the bed, realizing he’s wearing undergarments.

Relieved, Y/N opened the drawers, finding herself a proper nightgown to cover herself with. Once her body was no longer open to his view, she looked to him with pursed lips.

“I will not touch you”, he rolls his eyes, “But we are married. Might as well make the rest of the world believe the arrangement is somewhat functional.”

Looking at the door, she contemplated leaving. Sharing a bed with someone, anyone, was intimate. It required trust, love, a sense of safety and loyalty she certainly didn’t share with Kirigan.

“If you choose to leave, it will be all they talk about it the morning”, Darkling warns her and she huffs.

“If you lay a hand on me, I’ll be seeing you at the end of the altar once more. But in a casket during your funeral”, she glares at him and he can’t help but chuckle at her words.

He watched her settle in the bed, beside him. Placing a pillow between them seemed rather odd, but he didn’t mind it. In fact, he half expected her to make an attempt on his life on their wedding night. He still wasn’t sure she wouldn’t. He wasn’t sure he wouldn’t do the same.

“Sweet dreams, wife”, he smiled as she blew out the candle and the darkness settled in. He always felt comfortable in the dark.

She never felt comfortable in darkness, but he’d never know. She would be brave from now on – she wouldn’t bend, break or bow to anyone.

“I hope your dreams are filled with Volcra”, she snapped before turning on her side, further away from him.

Eventually, despite her initial distrust for the man, Y/N fell into a deep, exhausted sleep. She shifted in her sleep, throwing her leg over Kirigan’s, her hair twisting round and round his arm.

But the Darkling did not fall asleep immediately. She moved against him and snuggled closer. Even though she wouldn’t come close to him awake, she reached for him in her sleep. She wanted him nearby and it drew a smile to his lips. Catching himself smiling, the Darkling sat up in distress.

She may be appealing, but he cannot get attached to her. Ever.

His heart beats loudly, deafening so, his mind unable to slow down even for a moment. How could he fall asleep when he knew this angel beside him was simply a devil in disguise?

She’s a human – daughter of his enemy. Once she serves her purpose, the Darkling knew what he had to do. Turning her back on her side, he fixes the pillow in the middle. She’s a human, fleeting, he’s eternal and he will not allow himself the weakness of caring for someone like her.

Just as his mind drifts, he feels an arm wrap around him and he tenses up, eyes opening wide. “Fuck.”

Tags: @kaqua​ @savannah-elliott​ @all-art-is-quite-useless​

PART 3

[deerestapologies]

5 times you called him by a pet name + one time he called you by a pet name

(Diluc + Zhongli x GN!Reader)

Diluc

1. "Oh, hey hon." You greet mildly.

The candles have begun burning a bit low, the long shadows making his pout even more obvious.

"I apologize, I was held up for longer than anticipated."

He produces a small bouquet from his coat, a cluster of wildflowers, and approaches like he's about to give an offering instead of a gift. He kneels by your chair, face stoic as usual, but you can see the worry and shame in his eyes.

You twirl the stems to absorb their delicate scent, and then carefully drop them in your water glass. You cup his face in your hands, and press a kiss to his brow.

"It's okay." You kiss his brow again, "I am not mad." You kiss his nose. "I am hungry though."

You laugh lightly at his rush to sit across from you. An evening eating cold roast was worth being able to spend it with him.

-

2. "I understand your frustration, but perhaps we had best move on." You place a hand on his crossed arms.

"Their behavior was unacceptable, especially for those who would call themselves knights."

The stubborn clench of his jaw tells you just how angry he is. The idiots were lucky to have only gotten the verbal bludgeoning earlier instead of the literal one he wanted to dish out.

"Yes, but you've already made them apologize, and they do seem repentant," the fool knights in training nod frantically, "so why not leave this mess for Kaeya, darling?"

He sighs, but loosens his posture to wrap a protective arm around you. The hell the Knights were going to catch for this was still to come, but at least no one lost any limbs. Yet.

-

3. Tucked into your pile of pillows, book in hand, you waited as you do most nights. Diluc had a late meeting scheduled after dinner, but he promised it was truly to do with the winery and not of the vigilante variety.

So you bide your time, until you hear his heavy boots come up the stairs.

"I'm home." He calls softly.

"Welcome back." You say just as softly.

He goes through the motions of undressing, refreshing himself, and redressing without missing a beat, but his posture seems wilted. You mark your page, and turn over the blanket for him.

"How did it go?"

He heaves a deep sigh, and crawls over to you. Pulling you close, he lays his head on your chest but doesn't say another word.

"Oh, sweetness." You embrace him, one hand holding his face and the other in his hair. "It's okay. I've got you."

-

4. You lengthen your steps, but the increased pace doesn't seem to deter the boy following you. He isn't dangerous per se, but his persistence is damned annoying.

"But, if you'll just listen," he jogs back up to your side, "I just need your help for a little while!"

"I am neither a Knight nor an Adventurer," you cut him off with a sharp wave of your hand, "And you have nothing I want. Now leave me be."

He sputters, "M-master Diluc said-"

As if he's had his tongue plucked out, he suddenly stops talking.

You turn around only to find Diluc himself, a stifling hand on the kid's shoulder. His face is a stoic mask as always, but his energy is thunderous.

"I agreed to help you out of deference to your mother, but you," You see the boy wince as the hand tightens, "failed to listen to a word I said. Harassing my staff and my partner has only earned you banishment from all of my properties. Now go, before I report you to the Knights as well."

You both stand stock still as the boy sprints from the winery back to Mondstadt proper.

"Your going to report him anyways, right?" You mumble, after he is just a speck on the horizon.

"Of course," He finally relaxes his stance to look at you, "Though I doubt Jean will be happy about it."

Your chuckle, already imagining her face when the letter reaches her desk. Heaving a sigh, just grateful for the problem to have moved on, you grab Diluc's hand.

"Thank you," You pull him into a tight hug, "for protecting me as always, angel."

-

5. You gently rap on the door frame to his office. He looks up from his work just long enough to give you a soft smile.

"I was wondering," You lean against the frame, avoiding actually entering lest you get sucked in as well, "If my dear husband was going to come to bed tonight?"

The bright lamp on his desk means you see his blush even from across the room. He huffs an embarrassed laugh, but starts shuffling paperwork into orderly piles.

"I hadn't realized the time, my apologies."

You hum, "It is understandable. But I cannot rest if you are not in bed with me."

You watch as he tucks away his tools, pulls his gloves off, and undoes the tie in his hair, all with a much to pleased smirk on his face.

He pulls you into a delicate, lingering kiss with a hand on your neck. The warmth of his skin makes you shiver. You lean into him, letting him wrap you in his arms.

He chuckles, "Well, I would hate to neglect my husbandly duties."

+

1. The lingering warmth from your bath and the softness of the sheets has you dozing in minutes. You toss a hand onto Diluc's side of the bed, wanting to be present when he comes to bed as well but the ache of a long day is catching up to you.

After several moments you feel a calloused hand grasp your own. You are too tired to properly see, but feel the dip as he climbs into bed.

Still holding your hand in a delicate grip, he presses a kiss to your palm, and then your cheek.

"Sleep, my love, I am here."

Zhongli

1. Zhongli re-enters the house not even ten minutes after leaving. He is patting down his jacket and looking about the entryway in wonder, and you can't help but chuckle.

"Forget something?"

"Yes," he plants his hands on his hips, "I can't seem to find my wallet. I could have sworn I remembered it this time."

You get up from where you were leisurely awaiting his return, and snag the 'disappearing' wallet from where he left it on the table.

"Not quite, old man." You wave it, teasing.

"Ah, of course."

Tucking it into the pocket of his jacket, you tug him closer to plant a kiss on his flushed cheek.

"My apologies, it seems I was a bit distracted this morning."

He tucks a piece of hair away from your face, gaze so blatantly loving you can't help but crash your lips against his. Damn whatever appointment he may have, he shouldn't be so handsome in your direction.

-

2. It is not every day you wake up before him, so you try to make the most of it. You prepare his clothes for the day, just so you can pick out your favorite of his shirts. You start a light breakfast, and brew an energizing blend of tea for both of your sake.

You spend some time simply waiting at the table, content to sip your tea and watch the morning birds.

When the soft shuffle of feet brings Zhongli into the kitchen, you stand up. He is mostly dressed, minus his tie and shoes, jacket loose around his shoulders.

You steer him to the table, and press a kiss to his cheek when seated.

He hums contentedly, still a bit sleepy, "Good morning."

You pour him a cup of tea as well, and his smile grows a bit wider. He tilts his head up, "Thank you."

You meet him half way, pressing a firm kiss to his mouth, "Of course dearest. Do you have anything pressing today?"

A hand comes to rest on your hip, preventing you from moving back to your seat.

"No, nothing more important than this."

-

3. Squished between the mattress and the press of his body, you couldn't imagine being more content. The warmth, the scent, the feel of his breath ghosting across your skin.

You run a reverent hand through his hair, spread loose over his back. It seems impossible for you to be this happy, like you would only read about in unrealistic fantasies.

Amber eyes are already watching you, when you open yours. His gaze is soft, unbearably so, so you look at the ceiling.

"I love you."

"I love you too."

He answers it so easily, as if it is among the many universal truths that exist in his head.

"You must understand," You wet your nervous mouth, "I mean it. Truly, I love you."

You feel his head tilt in confusion, but power on, emotions spilling.

"You are my starlight. My life would be unimaginably dark without you. I am scared constantly by the sway you have over me, but I cannot stand the idea of living without you. I want be here with you, forever, no matter the cost."

You squeeze your eyes shut against the flood of tears that threaten to spill, waiting for his polite retreat. His body lifts off yours and you pull a shuddering breath in, unused to laying yourself bare in this way. He could end you now, destroy you by just walking away.

But you feel tremoring hands grasp your face, almost too tightly. He doesn't say a word, can't, but presses his forehead to yours.

-

4. "Zhongli?" You call into the empty hum of the parlor, hoping it will carry to his office. It's not far, but he gets absorbed in his work easily.

You lean out the door a bit, and try to project your voice more, "Hey, honey?"

The door to his office clicks open, and his head pokes out. "Do you need assistance?"

"Yes, please," you adjust the pile of books in your arms, "Would you mind grabbing this other pile? A client requested reference material from just about every era, and I don't think I have the wing span to carry all of it."

He presses a quick kiss to your head, and scoops up the remaining books with no problem.

"Of course, would you like me to relieve you of those as well?"

"Not a chance, show off, you're gonna have to deal with the doors."

As if to prove your point, he balances the stack in one hand to hold the front door open for you, smile only slightly smug.

-

5. Given how busy your lives were, and his propensity for letting time fly, you figured he would forget again. It would not be the first anniversary he forgot, and you imagine it wouldn't be the last.

It's not like you could hold it against him, especially not when he was so earnest and loving all year round.

So your surprise was genuine when he led you, dressed in his best, to a private booth at Liuli Pavilion.

The food was made by the head chef, as a show of gratitude for Zhongli's long patronage (you send a quiet thank you to Childe), and the service superb. The evening is relatively quiet, you converse as normal but with the additional soppiness that comes from acknowledging romance.

You are especially glad for the privacy when you cannot help but practically ravish the man over the table, his face being too handsome to bear just looking at.

Shortly after, he looks at you with burning eyes, and finally says, "I am quite full. Perhaps we should head home."

"That sounds perfect."

You continue to stare, sappy and sated, as he blindly pats at his pockets, equally unwilling to look away.

After several moments, it dawns on you, and then immediately on him.

You can't help it. You laugh. Hysterically, because no matter what Zhongli is Zhongli.

He's standing now, flustered like you've never seen, pacing the room as if his wallet would be anywhere but the table at home.

"This was not my intent." He huffs, "I had planned the evening meticulously."

"And it was lovely," You choke back another laugh, "But, sugar, you are not living this down for the rest of our lives!"

You are laughing as you pull out your own wallet, giggling uncontrollably as you hand over all the money on your person, and can barely walk you're so light headed when he leads you out the door.

He doesn't once let you go, from the pavilion's steps to your front door. Indulgent to the end, your man.

+

1. It is always a pleasant surprise when your errands overlap. Working nearly in conjunction makes it happen quite often, but still, it makes your day brighter.

You have just finishing bartering your lunch into existence when you spot Zhongli headed your way. Quickly, you slip the chef a few more mora to add another dish.

He is at your side in an instant, bringing your hand to his lips in that coquettish way he has.

"There you are," he lowers your hand but does not drop it, "I've been looking for you, treasure."

You twine your fingers together, relishing the warmth. You snug up to his side, taking the liberty of placing his hand on your hip just to see him blush.

"Have you now?"

"Always."

[brienneseveruscalawayfanfiction]

Olivia Benson x Reader

trying my hand at a hate/love fic with Liv x reader! anonymous I hoe you like it!

You always seemed to butt heads on everything and anything it would seem. Y/N felt that the moment they walked into the squad room as a replacement for detective Stabler that Olivia hated you, your mere existence seemed to annoy her and the fact that you were supposed to replace Elliot seemed downright laughable,

*Olivia's POV

There was no fucking way in hell that she could have with you or anyone else for that matter what she had or almost had with him.

Ten years worth of arguments and saving one another countless times and you two had finally come to realize that neither of you really had the energy to hate or argue with the other one anymore. With a loud resounding sigh Y/N approached Olivia in her office and asked her if there was anyway they could go somewhere private and have this long awaited discussion in private, so they could both air out their feelings for one another and than move on, in whatever form that took you could only guess. You offered to take her out to dinner to talk but she insisted on any anonymous room in a hotel, no prying eyes or listening ears to worry about at this point.

Y/N arrived at Olivia's hotel room ten minutes after she did and knocked on her door albeit a little too loudly in her anxiousness to get this over with. Olivia nervously answers the door and reluctantly lets you in, thinking to herself that if she doesn't do this soon that she may throw up or pass out!

"Why do you hate me?!" "What on earth have I ever done but try my best at having your back and squads back from day one, I bust my ass and have risked everything for you and them countless fucking times with no regard for my own safety, i wanted you guys to my family or at least allies but because of how you come towards me everyone else has followed suite!" "So what is it than, you, you fucking resent me or hate me because I'm not him, well in that case I am not sure anyone could have hold a candle to the flame that you have kept burning for all these years, and isn't he fucking married to boot?!" "I'll never be him, never be good enough, well I am tired!" "Tired of trying to pretend that your indifference towards me our outright hostility is too much for me to deal with anymore!"

Y/N's face was red with a vein pulsing in the center of her forehead, fists were clenched at her sides and lip quivering with all of her fears and heartache finally be allowed to bubble to the surface and explode. "Well you know what Liv, I fucking hate you and its all your fault for making me feel this for you!" Tears welled up in Y/N's eyes as she races to the door. But because her tears were now freely flowing down her face she couldn't see the lock and was fumbling with it badly.

Olivia realizing what she has done, what she has caused by alienating you for the last ten years hits her like a ton of bricks and how she must have always known she felt for you, raced after Y/N and grabbed her by the wrist and pulled her to them into an embrace.

"Y/N I am so sorry for what I had put you through, I was just so angry and confused when he left and had so many unanswered questions and than you walk in and just added further to my confusion, but that is no excuse for how I have treated you. I think in the beginning I did resent you because you represented a change that I just wasn't ready for or wanted and you enter the picture and turn my entire world upside down, and everything was hard and different and new and I didn't know what to do, so I kept you at arms length. I realize now that what I felt was fear, fear of change and fear of how you made me feel, I have had so many failed relationships that I can't even keep track anymore and I guess I was scared that if I was honest with myself and with you about my feelings, that I would be alone in them, so instead of risking that I pushed you away and alienated you, but I have come to realize that I am in love with you, hopelessly and desperately and completely in love with you and my heart is yours for the taking, if you'll take it."

"I'll take it Y/N whispers softly and yet happily and pulls Captain Olivia Benson into a kiss that truly takes her breath away. You both spend the rest of the day and evening exploring one another's bodies and making love until dawn. You both awoke early afternoon still entangled in one another's embrace and smiled at one another. Olivia leans in and passionately kisses Y/N and says "Good afternoon sweetheart." "Good afternoon Liv."

After freshening up and than making love again only to have to freshen up again, you both checkout together holding onto one another like newly weds with how you couldn't stop touching or being close to one another now that you had things worked out and in the open that is.

Olivia decided it was time to also take you home with her and properly introduce you to her son Noah who fell in love with Y/N and said "I knew you liked her mama." "Oh you did, well that's news to me, always the last one to know." Olivia says laughing while hugging her son close to her and locking eyes with you. "Come here baby" and kisses you deeply in front of Noah who giggles at the public display of affection.

You guys spent the day at the park picnicking and watching Noah play and than tucking him in together after dinner because you both had exhausted that child by all the fresh air you got.

Olivia while standing in the doorway to her son's room watched as Y/N finished up with reading to him and when she pressed her lips to his forehead in a good night kiss felt that after ten long and lonely years of sadness and broken relationships she had finally found her silver lining, with you she had her family complete, with you she had finally found her happy ending after all.

[sarahjkl82-blog]

Sarah! I have a request <3 A meet-cute with Frankie in a supermarket <3 That's it, that's the request

For you @bison-writes

Warning: language and tooth rotting fluff ❤️❤️❤️

Tag list from AI: Tag list of glory (as ever, please ask to be put on or dropped from the list): @astroboots @silverwolf319 @sirowsky @leonieb @disgruntledspacedad @bison-writes @the-ginger-hedge-witch @danniburgh @sugarontherims @green-socks @tardisfangurl @mouthymandalorian @mrsparknuts @zukoyonce @agirllovespancakes @yespolkadotkitty @lunaserenade @theravenreads @lv7867

No more being a vampire with the rest of the undead and their missing shadows, patrolling supermarket aisles with aching knees and thoughts of murdering Karen from HR for stealing their last Diet Coke from the shared fridge at work. Nope. Not you. No siree. You are currently at the barrier of a Foo Fighters gig - close enough to be blessed by the sweat of the god that is Dave Grohl. Gliding on the back of your trolley handles, singing along tunelessly to Everlong as you reach for another bag of Italian bistro salad that’ll more than likely go brown in the depths of your salad drawer - but hey, it’s good to pretend you can make grown up choices, right? Maybe for being such a sensible adult, you could treat yourself to a little something with more sugar than sense?

*****

Frankie is tired. So very, very tired.

There are days the tiredness inside comes in both forms, seeping through both the physical and mental - where his body needs to rest yet his mind needs it desperately to move, to help burn the anxiety right out - extinguishing it like a candle flame. Without physical exercise to get his blood pumping or mental exertion to keep him sharp, his mind will keep him up all night long, not allowing him any rest. He once thought his old man weak for falling into alcohol like he did, but, Frankie now gets it. Three years sober from the little twists of white powder - mostly thanks to the large, searching brown eyes of his little girl.

With her arrival imminent from her mom’s tomorrow, he needed to ensure that he had something to offer her with a little more nutritional value than endless bowls of Captain Crunch. He was there with a fixed list of ingredients. Breakfast would be eggs, milk and flour for airy pancakes that he layers with a mountain of blueberries and endless syrup. Lunches needed to be something that could be packed with snackable bits ready for building dens in the forest together but dinners would be taken care of via whatever diner he hit on the way home from their adventures - praying she didn’t fall asleep before he got something solid in her tummy.

As he winds his way through the aisles, he ticks off items from his hastily scribbled list. Hmmm. Dinner. Shit. He hasn’t thought of anything to feed himself tonight so he stands there in front of the half-emptied fridge stacked with microwaveable meals for one, wondering which would fill the emptiness inside him tonight. One hand rubs his bleary eyes - trying to get them to focus on something - as the other rubs out a knot in his lower back when a swoosh of wind whips behind him making him snap his head in the direction of your rapidly disappearing presence.

God, when was the last time he scooted on the back of a trolley?

Having left him with a pang of jealousy that he’d only grabbed a basket, he turns back to the food. Previously being utterly uninspired by the corporation’s offerings until your momentary presence, he spots a battered package towards the back of the fridge - hidden behind some fluorescently coloured Mac n Cheese. Hauling out a pack of Singapore noodles, a small smile twitches at the corner of his mouth. You - the supermarket witch, gliding down aisles as if on a broomstick - have blessed him with something he feels a pique of excitement about eating.

That is until tomorrow when he has a reason to cook again when his amor de vida will come to fill his heart with her giggles and cuddles.

*****

The Foos have now turned into the Pixies, with Black Francis and Kim Deal forcing you to bob your head and sway by the loo rolls, instead of moshing in between the fruit juice and milk. Grabbing all the essentials on your way through the shop, out of the corner of your eye, you catch the warmly illuminated display of bakery goods. Ooooh! You’ve been such a good girl with your sensible salads and proteins - you totally deserve something sugary to celebrate reaching the end of your first week teaching at a new school.

Not finding it too hard to convince yourself of how much you definitely need a treat, you kick off from the floor, press your tummy against the handles, gliding back through the supermarket as if you had wings. Just as you close in on the cabinet filled with sticky deliciousness, a tall, broad expanse of a man steps out in front of your trolley, causing you to slam on the emergency brake that is your sneakered foot.

“Holy shit! I am so sorry- I need to grow the fuck up and stop pretending I’m five! Are you ok?” hoiking the headphones from your ears, you question the poor almost victim of your cart as the tinny beats spew forth.

“That was impressive braking,” the man lifts his baseball cap to attempt to flatten the dark, unruly curls by dragging his fingers through the fluffy mess, “Not hurt - and a lot of adults could learn from pretending to be a bit more kid-like.”

“Braking by the baking - shit, I’m sorry, that was terrible,” you inwardly sigh at your awful dad joke as you drink in the details of the deep dimple in his right cheek that has revealed itself as his shoulders and soft tummy shake with laughter at your comment, “I’m sorry- it’s been a week of thirty 5 year olds all demanding me at once so I’m a little excited at the prospect of eating something entirely formed from sugar and fat!”

“Hah! You must be exhausted,” the stranger continues as he fiddles with the edges of his brushed cotton plaid shirt, “I just have one three year old half the week and that is pretty full on. What are you thinking of choosing?”

“Not sure - what would you choose?”

“Can’t go wrong with a doughnut,” he says, furrowing his brow and pouting his lips at the selection on offer.

Sucking in a short breath through your teeth, you nod your head in agreement, “Good thinking, Batman! Mmm, raspberry jam doughnut, it is.”

“Oh you’ve gone down in my estimations.”

“What?” You squeak through the giggles, “I go down in your estimations due to my doughnut preferences rather than the fact I almost ran you over?”

“Yeah,” he shakes his head teasingly, “Always go for the custard filling, never the jelly! I am sorry but ...kinda feel we should part ways now…”

“Ah, that’s a shame - I was just about to buy you an apology doughnut for stealing one of your nine lives this evening,” you bat back at him, your eyebrows arched up by your hairline.

“Apology doughnut? Ah - should be more of those in the world,” the handsome man gravely ponders the concept before concluding, “Well, I may have a solution to this disagreement- how about you get two jelly and I buy two custard and then we can compare over a coffee?”

“Deal. What’s your name, custard doughnut man?”

“Francisco Morales - Frankie,” he offers with his hand shyly outstretched.

“Ok, Frankie - let’s go get that coffee and I can prove just how wrong you are,” you grin with a wink - completely ignoring his palm to place a kiss on his flushed cheek before spinning on your heels to head to the checkout, “I might even let you have a spin on my trolley but watch out for sneak attacks from handsome men, who jump out in front of you.”

[ithebookhoarder]

Prequel Star Wars (Head-canons): Dealing with a sick reader

A/N: After the request for these head canons for the original trio I kind of got inspired for the other trios too... oops?

Masterlist: 

Anakin:

Ok. There’s only one word for Anakin when you’re sick: worrier.

Yep. This man is on red alert real quick the minute you mention even thinking you feel a bit under the weather. In fact, he’d have you back in your chambers and buried under a pile of blankets before you can even try to tell him it isn’t necessary.

“You can’t be too careful, and you do feel rather warm. You may have a fever-”

“Anakin! Say that once you’ve felt my forehead again, but with your non-robotic hand this time.”

“Oh.”

It’s rather sweet actually, watching the way Anakin scurries about getting anything and everything you could possibly need. 

It’s also ironic considering this is the man who always insists he is fine, even when he has blaster wounds all over him. He may have been adversed to letting people take care of him, but he’s only too eager to take care of you. 

After all, since his mother died, you are all he really has in the way of family. He’s not about to let something as simple as a cold kill you. 

So, you let him fuss, knowing it’s just as good for him as it is for you, to let him play nurse maid for a while. 

“Do you need more pillows? I also can get Obi-wan to get some more of that tea you like from the market too if you want.” 

“I’m fine, Ani.”

“Are you sure? You still look pale-“

“Just come cuddle with me, ok? Just a for a while?”

Needless to say, he’s only too happy to cradle you in his arms and let you drift off to sleep against him, softly humming under his breath as he brushes the hair off of you face. 

This is how it stays for the next few days or so, until you’re finally strong enough to get back up and move around the temple. 

Even then, Anakin is like a shadow, following you around incase you’re wrong and it turns out you’re not strong enough yet to be up and about. 

“Ani, honey, I’m fine. I promise. I’m not made of glass, you don’t have to always worry something’s going to break me.” 

He knows you’re right, even if he’s reluctant to admit it. So, he settles for a kiss and a compromise that you at least let Ahsoka keep an eye on you while you work. It has been nearly a week since either of you left your quarters and people were going to start getting suspicious soon if he didn’t let you be by yourself. 

However, he doesn’t need to worry. 

It’s only a day later he starts coughing and feeling sick himself. 

It’s hard not to laugh at the irony as you take his arm and start hauling him back to bed, ready to return the favour. What was one more week of seclusion, just the two of you? At least this time you’d get to play nurse maid. 

Obi-Wan: 

Unlike Anakin, Obi-wan is rather calm when it comes to handling any kind of problem. So, when he finds you slumped over, face down, in the text you’d been trying to read in the archives, he merely chuckles.

“Darling, wake up. You fell asleep again.”

“Obi?” You blink, groaning as you try to sit up without falling over from the sudden dizziness you feel rushing through you.  

Of course, one look at you is enough to tell him something is definitely wrong with you. 

“Oh dear, you look dreadful.”

“Wow. Such a charmer.”

“I try,” he teases, helping you up and wrapping an arm around you as he starts to escort you back to your rooms. You need some rest, clearly, if you’ve become rundown enough to catch some kind of bug. It’s probably the same one that’s been going around the younglings recently.

“Here we are. Let’s get you changed and settled in to bed, alright?”

His voice is so soft and soothing as he mothers you, seeing to your every need with barely a complaint. He has you out of your robes and into something comfy in the blink of an eye. He also makes you some tea and retrieves some medication from his bathroom cabinet, insisting you take some before sleeping. 

Obi-wan is also a patient man. Being Master to Anakin for the last ten years has ensured that, meaning he is more than prepared for your whining and moaning. 

He simply smiles, laughing at the rather adorable pout you wear whenever he tries to get you to take some more medication or agree to stay in bed for another day. 

“But I have a report due tomorrow for Master Fisto-“

“I’ve already explained the situation to him. He has someone else finishing it for him.”

“Well, I also have that class with the younglings-”

“Which Master Yoda has also agreed to cover, so you have nothing to worry about except recovering, alright?”

It is alright, despite you pretending otherwise. When else do you get to spend so much time along together? In fact, despite feeling like death warmed up, you rather like letting him take care of you and entertaining you with whatever book he’s been reading lately. 

He always looks happiest when he has you nestled under his arm, and a book in his free hand. Needless to say, he has no problems reading you off to sleep every night, watching as you drift off by the time he’s finished another chapter. 

“Sleep well, my love.” 

And you do. You sleep remarkably well with Obi-wan next to you which is why, even after you’re better, you’re quick to invite him to sleep in your bed as many nights as you can.  

You’re also eager to return the favour and read to him instead, as he eventually falls asleep to the sound of your voice night after night. 

Who knew the great General Kenobi was so adorable when asleep?  

Padme:

Now, Padme may be royalty, but she is a public servant first and foremost. Her entire life is dedicated to the service of others, so when she sees you struggling to keep yourself upright at your desk, she is all over you. 

“Y/N? What is it? Are you feeling alright?” 

“I’m fine, Padme. It’s just stress.”

“Sure you are. Why else have you been staring at that page for the last hour and a half?” 

She pauses, frowning at you and trying not to roll her eyes at your stoic nature. On one hand, it’s rather ironic for her to scold you when she herself has been known to burn the candle at both ends. However, there comes a point when it was impossible to ignore your body’s obviously worsening condition. 

So, she swiftly orders you to bed and instructs a physician to check nothing is terribly wrong with you - even if you insist it isn’t necessary. 

“Well, it is to me, alright?” 

And of course, how can you say no to that sweet face when she pouts and bats her eyelids? 

“Ugh! Fine!”

One annoyingly tedious check up later, you’ve been diagnosed with a mild stomach bug and told to rest for the remainder of the week. 

“Here. I have some juice for you. You need fluids if you’re going to recover quicker.” 

You smirk at the idea that a queen is serving you as she bursts into your room the following day, carrying a tray laden with fruit and a pitcher of your favourite juice. 

You’re quick to thank her, downing the glass within seconds, much to her amusement. 

“Thirsty are we?”

“And bored,” you whine, grinning as Padme passes you a data pad with a knowing wink. “You angel!”

“Hardly. You get one hour to work, ok? Then I’m taking it back and you’re having a nap? Understood?”

It seems like a fair enough compromise as you sit up and read the briefings she’s downloaded for you. In fact, by the time your hour is up, your eyes are drooping and you’re struggling to sit up by yourself. 

“No protests? I am surprised.”

She clearly isn’t, but she’s too kind to say so as she kisses your forehead and clambers in to bed next to you as you nestle in close.

The soft scent of her perfume and the sound of her heartbeat is all the lullaby you need as you let yourself grab a few more hours of sleep. 

A few days of this routine, and of Padme’s diligent care, and you’re back to your old self in no time. 

In fact, a small part of you rather looks forward to the next time either one of you are sick given how nice it is to have the time to spend together. 

So, you still insist on taking a nap together every afternoon despite being off bed rest. “Merely as a precaution” - or so you insist as you steal Padme from her office every day without fail for a small escape. “Wouldn’t want our favourite Senator to fall sick now, would we?”  

[besanii]

For SM-maybe after ripping our hearts out, we get a cute shirt fluffy one? I’m thinking after their wedding, there’s a scene like the end of Pride and Prejudice 2005? “What terms of endearment am I allowed, then?” LWJ to WWX. Just a thought. Delighted with everything you write.

Shattered Mirrors 72

[ set after #62 ]

Night has fallen by the time Lan Wangji is able to remove himself from the celebrations and return to his rooms, leaving the remaining guests in his cousin’s capable hands. Lan Guoyan even manages to dissuade some of the rowdier attendees from trying to storm the bedchamber—protectiveness flares in his chest at the thought of them in such a private space, not to mention seeing Wei Wuxian in his wedding finery—something for which Lan Wangji is immensely grateful. He resolves to thank him properly later, once everything has settled, but for now he hastens his stride through the winding pathways to his bedchamber.

He is relieved to find the candles within still lit when he arrives, half-fearing that the uncharacteristic lateness of his arrival would mean Wei Wuxian had already retired to bed.

It is your wedding night, he reminds himself, heat rising to his ears. Of course he would wait.

From inside, he hears the sound of laughter and recognises Wei Wuxian; the other voice he presumes to be Mo Xuanyu, who scarcely leaves Wei Wuxian’s side except to run errands. The third voice, however, is somewhat unexpected. He waves down the servants at the door before they can announce his arrival, and crosses the threshold when they open the doors, surprising the occupants inside.

“Wangye!”

Lan Jingyi scrambles to his feet, pulling Mo Xuanyu along with him, both of them seated on the floor at Wei Wuxian’s feet. Wei Wuxian himself is sitting at the edge of the bed in his wedding finery, red veil still obscuring his features from view, his hands folded neatly on his lap as the two boys bow low.

“Jingyi, Mo Xuanyu.” They flinch and keep their heads bowed. “The wedding chamber is off-limits at this hour.”

“Wangye,” they chorus, wearing matching expressions of guilt. “Forgive our intrusion. We will leave at once.”

“Wangye, don’t tease,” Wei Wuxian chides, lifting a corner of the veil to peek out at them with a smile. “They were keeping me company while you were out entertaining your guests.”

“Our guests,” Lan Wangji corrects him. He shoots the boys another look. “You are all dismissed. Take the rest of the night off.”

“Yes, Wangye.” Lan Jingyi grabs Mo Xuanyu by the arm and all but drags him to the door. He smiles at them, all cheek and humour, as they pull them closed. “Best wishes to Wangye and Wangfei for a happy, prosperous union.”

Embarrassment burns at Lan Wangji’s neck and ears and he is almost tempted to march out after them to dole out punishment for their impertinence. It seems he has been too indulgent with Lan Jingyi lately for him to speak so out of place. He will need to correct that first thing tomorrow—

“Your concubine greets Hanguang-wangye.”

He turns at the sound of rustling to find Wei Wuxian has slipped from the bed, sinking to his knees with his head bowed, the perfect picture of a docile, obedient wife greeting her new husband. The thought stirs something deep in his chest, something heated and possessive; he takes a step forward, careful and measured, as if treading too quickly would scare Wei Wuxian away. He reaches for him, sliding his hands under his elbows to help him to his feet, draws him close until the veil brushes against his chin and he can feel the Wei Wuxian tremble in his arms.

“Wei Ying,” he murmurs. A soft, shaky sigh stirs the edges of the veil. “You do not need to bow to me.”

Hands turn over to grasp his forearms in return, the wide sleeves of the wedding robes falling back to reveal pale, slender wrists. The golden bangles, from the Empress herself as a wedding gift, almost dwarf them in their size.

“Wangye is too kind,” Wei Wuxian murmurs. “Your concubine is only observing the proper customs expected of a spouse of the Imperial Family.”

Lan Wangji sighs. “Wei Ying, do not tease.”

The trembling turns into shaking as Wei Wuxian breaks out into soft laughter. It breaks the tension that has settled over the room since Lan Wangji entered; the breath rushes from his lungs and he, too, chuckles. He runs his hands up along Wei Wuxian’s upper arms, admiring the silky smoothness of the fabric, the way it drapes just so—even through the many layers of fabric, he can feel the curve of his shoulders, the jut of his collarbone, the rush of his pulse; Wei Wuxian’s breath hitches when his fingers brush against the sensitive skin of his neck and he draws back a fraction, uncertain.

“Is something wrong?” A shake of the head. “Then…will you allow me to lift your veil?”

“Yes.”

His breath had caught in his throat when he’d first laid eyes on Wei Wuxian this morning at Jing Manor; even with the long silk veil completely covering his head and face from view, there is no masking the slope of his shoulders, the grace of his movements, the way the layers and layers of red silk fall and drape over his frame. His skin is paler now than it had been in his youth, his body less toned and muscular, less sharp angles and more gentle curves, but the shape of his mouth, the way his grey eyes dance with starlight and mischief as the veil slips from his shoulders with a sigh—all of that is uniquely Wei Ying.

In the intervening years since they had last seen each other, he had often pictured in his dreams how Wei Wuxian would look if they had been able to marry. He would wear his hair in the intricate style of an Imperial spouse, with braids and gold pins holding it all together; his robes would be a darker red, almost crimson, the hems embroidered with the flowing clouds of the Gusu Lan Imperial Family in golden thread.

He would be so beautiful, Lan Wangji would think upon waking, when the yearning would tear at his chest until he choked with it.

He is breathtaking.

“Wangye? Hanguang-wangye? Lan Zhan?” Wei Wuxian lowers his eyes, obedient and demure, but his voice anything but as he murmurs: “Fujun?”

A pleased rumble sounds from his throat before Lan Wangji can stop it; Wei Wuxian laughs in delight as Lan Wangji flushes, mortified. Cool hands reach up to cup his face, tracing the line of his jaw and coming to rest against the burning skin on the back of his neck.

“Fujun,” Wei Wuxian repeats, rolling the new title on his tongue with relish. “Allow your concubine to serve you tonight.”

“Wei Ying.” Lan Wangji’s voice is pained. “You do not need to address yourself thus.”

“Oh?” The hands at his neck trail down to his chest. “Then how shall we address each other, Fujun? If I address my husband by name in public, they will think our manners lacking.”

Lan Wangji takes both hands in his and gives them a gentle squeeze.

“Wangye, in public,” he allows. He runs his thumbs along the back of his hands as he thinks. “My name, at home.”

“And Fujun?” Wei Wuxian asks, teasing. Lan Wangji growls.

“Only in private,” he says roughly; one hand shifts so it covers both of Wei Wuxian’s while the other wraps around his waist to draw him close. Wei Wuxian laughs again, breathless and giddy.

“Then you must do the same for me,” he counters, his eyes dark and face flushed. His tongue comes out to wet his lips, and Lan Wangji suddenly cannot look away. “Although I cannot promise to always address you correctly in private.”

“You may address me however you wish, in private,” Lan Wangji tells him, lowering his head to brush their noses together. A thrill runs through him when Wei Wuxian does not pull away.

“Oh?” The word dances over his lips. “So you would not mind if I call you Lan-er-gege, as before?” Lan Wangji shakes his head with a smile. “How about…Er-lang?”

Lan Wangji closes his eyes, his grip tightening around Wei Wuxian’s waist as he tries to calm his pounding heart. When he opens them again, Wei Wuxian’s eyes are half-lidded and dark. His throat suddenly feels as dry as sand. He clears his throat.

“That is allowed,” he says, voice hoarse. He brushes their lips together, feather-light. “You may call me however you wish…A-Ying.”

He closes the scant distance between them and brings their lips together.

--

Notes:

fujun (夫君) - husband, more formal and old-fashioned (male version of furen 夫人)

er-lang (二郎) - previously used in Part #55, an affectionate address similar to er-gege, most often used between married couples

* WWX also refers to himself here as qieshen (妾身), which is an old-fashioned, humble form of address used by wives when speaking to their husbands; it translates to “this concubine”, but he is definitely the “wife” (main/legal spouse)

In general, married couples back then (especially those where the husband has a title) do not refer to each other by name in public (or even sometimes at home). They would refer to the other by their title or honorific when with other people (e.g. WWX would refer to LWJ as wangye when talking to others) or use a humble form of their relationship “title”, for lack of a better word (e.g. a husband would refer to their wife as neijian (内贱) - “humble wife”, nei literally meaning ‘interior, internal’ and thus referring to the wife as the one inside their home; jian meaning humble or lowly).

--

Master Post here

--

buy me a ko-fi

[migilini]

I Do - Charlie Gillespie

a/n: I watched to many seasons of married at first sight and this came to mind. Just pretend that Charlie in this GIF is wearing a suit. Kinda a part two to Fifth Time Workes A Charm

Requests are open btw! (not just for Charlie)

words: 3k

warnings: none just fluff and a lot of crying

MASTERLIST

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

You barely slept during the night. You kept waking up what felt like every hour to check if it was time to get up. The bed felt awfully empty and you would give everything right now to be in his arms. Then finally, the clock strikes 9 am and you are up on your feet, the nerves getting the better of you. The hotel room was nice and clean, you didn't like it, it felt too white and too lifeless to you right now.

You looked at yourself in the mirror, glowing but tired eyes staring right back at you. Taking a deep breath you tried to shake the nerves with a silly little body shake, then you smiled at yourself before heading into the bathroom to wash your face.

A knock on the door interrupted you mid-splash and you went to the door with a dripping face. “We’ve arrived!” your best friend Elouise or Eli for short exclaimed and hieved her whole baggage onto your bed. “What do you mean we?” you leaned your head out of the room and into the empty hallway. Just as you were about to close the door, feet pounded on the carpeted floor. “Sorry, sorry! Had to finish the call with hair and makeup.” Tris, your other best friend screamed through the halls, as she frantically came running towards you, phone clutched in one hand while the other held two dresses that flattered behind her.

You looked at her in amusement "Need a glass of water?" You chuckled at her heavy breathing and closed the door behind you.

"Oh yes please"

"Y/N you're so not ready...well lucky for you we are here. So hop hop go shower ma lady." Eli shushed you into the bathroom "and scrub every inch! I'll check if I have to!” You still heard their laughter as you get rid of your clothes and step into the shower. The warm water relaxed your muscles and your nerves immediately.

Several minutes later, now smelling like a goddess and wrapped into a soft white towel, you sat on the bed in your now crowded hotel room. While you were showering your nerves away, your dress, the hairdresser and makeup artist arrived.

“There she is!” greeted the makeup artist “Come sit down, we’ve got everything out and you and I already discussed your look. Are we still okay with it?”

“Yes, Carlos. But make everything as cry proof as possible okay?” you said laughing slightly.

“I also brought you a coffee and a croissant. I know you don’t usually eat something in the mornings but we don’t want you to faint now do we?” Tris held a tablet in front of her with several cups of coffees and something to eat. You took a cup gratefully, shooting her a quick thanks, holding the cup as Carlos started on your face and Melissa, the hairdresser started drying and styling your hair.

“Can I have my phone back?” You said to no one in particular.

“Nope, sorry.”

“Emi! What--It’s my phone!”

“I do know that. And you should know that Tris and I know you very well and you would’ve called or more likely face timed him by now and put a bad omen over the whole day.”

“Yeah. You and Charlie can’t be away from each other for long.” Tris acknowledged and sided with Emi.

“You’re just jealous that I’m in love.” You shot back with a smile and stuck your tongue out at your friends which in return gave you a growl from Carlos and Melissa who needed you to sit still.

After what felt like an eternity you were done and now it was time for your bridesmaids to get ready. They purposefully taped a piece of cloth over all mirrors so could only see yourself when you were 100% finished with getting ready.

Now that you had some time to actually think about today, your mind started to wander. Was Charlie ready by now or were there some complications? Tris did get a call earlier to then just run out of the room and come back 20 minutes later. What suit would he wear? Was he just as nervous as you? Totally unaware of how much time you passed, you were ripped out of your thoughts with a forceful swat on your shoulder.

“Miss Bride? It’s time to get the dress on.” Tris squealed.

You took a look at your best friends who looked absolutely stunning, at some time they got changed into their dresses. Emi smiled at you with a glossed lipped smile, her brown hair up in a bun while little strands of glitter strings framed her face. She wore a turquoise halter dress with some nude heels. Tris wore a bit of a darker turquoise strapless dress, her colourful hair falling straight over her shoulder. Both had simple makeup, a nude smokey eye with eyeliner.

Your eyes started to tear up. “Guys...you look absolutely stunning.” Emi walked over to you and embraced you in a hug. “We look really fudhing good but you’re gonna look even better. Now hop hop get undressed we have to lace up the dress.”

While your friends were working on lacing your dress up, you wondered out loud. “How much do we wanna bet that Owen lost the rings?” You chuckled and then yelled, “That's way too tight!”

“Oh Owen is so gonna lose the rings but we'll be fine. You’re gonna have rings or I'll run and get you some new ones.” Tris reassured you with a smile.

“Can I finally look at myself? I want to see if I look like a bride.” Emi and Tris shared a quick look before agreeing. Emi ripped the cloth away from the closest mirror. An audible gasp was all that was heard, everybody fixated on your reaction to yourself.

“I look like a real ass bride. I- oh my god… I look so good.” You coaxed out, trying not to cry, this got all a bit real too fast.

And you really did look amazing. Your open hair fell over your shoulders and ended right underneath your boob. It had a lot of volume and little glitter braids in it and Melissa had curled them to perfection so they framed your face perfectly. Your makeup was stunning as well, the reddish-brown and glittery smokey eye complementing your skin tone and eye colour. Carlos finished the look with a pinkish nude lipstick. You were glowing.

The cream coloured dress sat perfectly on your figure, the A-line cut highlighting your waist, the flowery lace flowing from the corset top down to your feet. The dress was poofy but not too much. You looked more like Sofie from Mamma Mia and less like Cinderella. You adjusted the straps and smiled at yourself.

“And I’m telling you, Charlie will bawl his eyes out when he sees you.” Emi patted your back and finished lacing up your dress. Tris couldn't contain herself anymore and let out a little sob “I’m sorry. You just look so gorgeous. I can’t believe you're getting married.” You pulled her into a hug.

“We don't have that much time anymore. the photographer should be here in five minutes to take your bridal pictures and pictures with the bridesmaids.”

The photo session went by quickly and you could tell that they turned out amazingly, by the way, Paul, the photographer, smiled at his screen. Megan, Charlie's sister and your other Bridesmaid came in at the last minute, due to the fact that she just flew in in the morning.

Then it was time for the first look. At first, you weren't sure if you should do this or if it would be better if the first look would be at the ceremony itself. You thought it would be funny to send Tris to the first look instead of you. So you, Megan and Emi sat in the hotel room waiting patiently.

The door opened “You two are really made for each other.” Tris came back in with a huge smile on her face. “Why? What happened?” You asked, the nervousness in your voice was evident. “Was he mad?”. She started to laugh “No absolutely not because he had the same idea as you and sent Owen.”

The room erupted in laughter “Oh no he didn't!” “Of course he did”

The next couple of hours flew by so quickly. You got to the venue. Your parents came by to say hello to you and to shed some tears. They also told you that most of the guests have arrived and everybody is waiting excitedly.

Finally, it was time. You nervously cracked your fingers, as you waited for all the guests to take a seat, the closed door in front of you the only thing shielding you from your fiance, your dad standing beside you in a suit.

“Nervous?” he asked you with a slight smile, you could tell that he was trying hard not to cry.

“Very. But I’m telling you if he doesn't cry I'll turn around and we gotta try again.” you joked.

“Oh my dear...he will.” he quickly took a look at his watch and then linked his arm with yours.

“Ready?” you shot him a smile and nodded “As ready as I'll ever be.”

The outside speakers started to play the instrumental version of Cherry Wine by Hozier and the doors opened.

It was mid-May and you and Charlie decided on an Outside wedding. After searching for a great venue you finally found one. It was an old brick house with a small colonnade of bushes in the garden. It was absolutely perfect but you didn't even look at the decorations because as soon as your eyes met his, the world stood still.

He stood at the front of the colonnade where some candles burned beside him. He wore a forest green tuxedo and that dashing smile of his. The closer you got, the more you saw how much he was crying and all you wanted to do is hug him and wipe the tears away. Your cheeks hurt from all the smiling but you couldn't stop, some tears of your own spilling out of the corners of your eyes.

You kissed your dad on the cheek and let him sit down in the front row, your eyes only momentarily leaving Charlies. “Hi, handsome.” You smiled up at him and instinctively used your thumb to wipe away some tears. “Did you cut your hair?” you asked, nodding to his now chin-length hair (think October Charlie) He grabbed your hands in his and kissed your knuckles while slightly nodding his head “You look...just wow,” he whispered so that only you could hear. You just wanted to give him a compliment when the officiant interrupted you.

“Now it's getting serious.” you said while he said “No backing out.” with a wink.

“The couple standing in front of me met at the young age of 18 in the middle of the street. Y/N bumped into Charlie here and practically fell for him right there and then. She shot him a quick sorry and went her way but the universe knew that these two needed to be together so the next day he bumped into her, totally accidental of course.” the crowd laughed and you and Charlie beamed at each other. “Sadly for Y/N that day she carried an expensive Cake that flew to the other side of the pavement. Charlie felt so bad that he promptly invited her to the next bakery where they got a cup of coffee and a new cake. Today we’re gathered here today to celebrate that love.”

“I believe that the two of you wrote your own vows? Y/N would you like to start?” You nodded and turned around to take a piece of paper from Emi who stood behind you, already missing the warmth of his hands in yours.

“Charlie, you know I’m not very good with words so I really struggled to write this, but here we are standing in front of your family and friends to share our love. I knew I loved you…” your voice wavered and you let out a sob “sorry...I knew I loved you in the first week that we’ve met. We sat on a bench in the little park right around the corner from where we met. You were late and totally out of breath when you arrived. You apologized like crazy but I didn't care, you don't know this but I had a really shitty day that day and just seeing you made it all worth it. That smile of yours knocked me off my feet completely.

From that day on I only loved you more and more. I love the way you try to wake up every day with a smile. The way you always seem to have so much energy and that you try to share that energy and love with the whole world. I love waking up in your arms because they feel like home and I miss you like crazy when I don't see you for a day.

I never really believed in love at first sight before I met you and I’m so glad that you ruined my cake. I promise to try and make you smile at least twice a day, to listen and care for you, to dance with you in the kitchen while our pizza is in the oven. I also promise to try your questionable food combinations at least once every time.

I can’t promise you that we won't fight or that we won't have our ups and downs but I will promise that we’ll work it out, that we’re not going to bed with grudges, to talk about our problems and thoughts and to always make up. I promise to be your partner in crime and to take all the blame if we ever get caught and lastly, and most importantly...

I promise to love you more and more until my heart stops beating, even when the day comes that we're old and grey, I promise to always see you with the same eyes and the same heart that I see you with at this exact moment.” You took a deep breath to try and stop your sobbing. Now it was Charlie's turn to wipe away some tears.

“Baby, don’t cry your makeup will get ruined.” he joked and you let out a small laugh. “Charlie, I believe now it's your turn to speak your vow.”

He took a shaky breath in before taking a folded piece of paper from the inside of his tuxedo pocket. “I want to start off with a simple I love you. I love the way you still give me butterflies every time I see you. I love the way you care not only for me but for everyone around you. I love the way you're patient with me. I love how much you're willing to try new things with me to make me happy because you really didn't like swimming with sharks. I admire how hard you work to help others and above all, I love how you love me.

It's in the way you look at me with such patience and compassion, the way you listen to me even if I'm rambling on, the way you push me to try harder even when I feel like I've done enough. You love me without judgment and chose to see the beauty in my flaws. Today, I want to make promises to you that I will always keep. I promise to love you back forever and harder each day. I promise never to get angry at you for making honest mistakes, even if I asked you to turn the lights off every night for the past week...

I promise to never stop holding your hand or give you a goodbye kiss. I promise to walk through life, as your biggest fan, your shoulder to lean on, and your best friend and I vow to stay silly, to never take ourselves too seriously, and stay just immature enough for cake and breakfast for dinner.

You're my soldier, my lover and above all, my best friend and I'm so excited to spend the rest of my life with you.”

Both of you were grinning and crying like idiots. “Now can we have the rings please?” the officiant asked the crowd and a teary-eyed Owen stepped forward the rings clutched in his hands.

“Thank you.” the officiant gave each of you a ring. “Do you Y/N Y/L/ want to take this man as your husband in sickness and in health?”

“I do.” You smiled up at Charlie and slid the ring on his left ring finger. “Oh good it fits,” you murmured and made him chuckle.

“And do you Charlie Gillespie want to take this woman as your wife in sickness and in health?”

“I do.” He grinned widely and also slid the ring on your left hand.

“I now pronounce you husband and wife. Charlie, you may kiss the bride.” Your lips locked with his and you couldn't be happier. Your hands found their way into his hair while his hands gripped your waist. His lips were soft and warm and you missed them dearly in the night the two of you were apart. The crowd cheered when he dipped you.

“I present to you for the first time Mr and Mrs Gillespie!”

[bisexualdaemon]

mad woman: iii (nessian)

a/n: *taps mic* does this thing still work? OH hey! hello! yes, this fic is properly old now and probably everyone thought I abandoned it but joke is on everyone including myself lmao...turns out I love these two..and after acosf well I would 10/10 die for them. so here we go! a ride to be sure! people do be getting naked!

warnings: 4.8k of smut (like woah). language. guilt. 

Nesta wasn’t exactly sure what she was doing.

It had seemed like a good idea. Everyone in certain social circles knew the truth about Hewn City. Knew the dance club for the front it was for the shadowy bowels beneath. Here, she had thought yesterday morning, here she could be on even ground with him.

Him.

Cassian's hand was still in hers as she led them both down the long hallway toward room 3B. His words before hadn’t completely hidden his reactions to her clothes, her face, her body. She smiled to herself remembering the slight widening of his eyes. He probably thought he hadn’t reacted, but she knew. All men are weak. Just put on a dress and show some thigh and she knew she’d get his attention. Even if it was probably all for show. Cassian was a fine actor.

She thought back to four days ago. Or was it five, she thought. They had started to bleed together after the bender she’d gone on after wishing Cassian death on the phone with Amren.

Feyre was in her apartment for the second time in a week. An unprecedented occurrence. If the judgment in her eyes was any indication, she had come to check on things. Baby sister coming to her rescue. How rich. She stood on the carpet again, with her perfect heeled sandals and her tidy camel trench coat. Thankfully, she’d left the hat at home this time. Her arms were crossed tight against her chest as she surveyed the room.

“I see you’ve already made yourself at home again,” she observed, picking up a half-empty bottle of gin, “I’ll send Alis this afternoon.”

“I don’t want anyone else in my fucking apartment, Feyre,” Nesta cringed at the lingering slur in her voice.

“So you can drown yourself in this shit alone?” She held up an empty bottle of vodka in her other hand. “Nesta, it’s only been a few days since I was here the last time. Can you even stand right now?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” Nesta sneered, settling back into the couch cushions. She couldn’t, but Feyre was a bitch for even asking, so she spat back, “At least I cope with my problems legally, High Lady.” In a fantasy world, smoke would have curled from her lips when she exhaled those last words.

Feyre stilled, breathing evenly. Nesta wasn’t sure if she was containing her rage or accepting the shame she had to be feeling.

“I see you gave Amren a call.”

“She didn’t tell you?” Nesta was surprised. Amren had seemed like one of Feyre’s inner circle, no matter how much money the High Lord and Lady may have given her.

“No, I told Amren that what you did with her number was your business,” she wrung her hands. She was….nervous. How odd. Feyre Archeron was a lot of things, but nervous was rarely one of them.

“Well,” Nesta exhaled, the anger fleeting like wind taken out of her sails, “yes, I called. Everything was very cryptic until someone showed up here who was not a therapist and started taking his clothes off. Honestly, what were you thinking, Feyre?!”

“I…” she hesitated, sinking down on the other end of the couch with Nesta, bracing her elbows on her knees, “I don’t know. I was desperate. I just want you to feel something again, Nes.” She hadn’t called her that since they were children. Nesta felt a little pang in her chest. I need another drink. “I know it’s...unconventional, but it really does help. Rhys and I...well, you know there’s a lot of stress involved in our lives.”

“So you fuck it out with strangers that you pay to keep silent??” Nesta asked incredulously.

“When you put it like that it sounds a lot seedier than it actually is, but,” she huffed, swallowing back some kind of emotion, “yes. There’s a lot of….relief, if you just give into it. Amren knows what she’s doing.”

“Are you and Rhys having problems?” It was the only explanation Nesta could understand for this. I mean it was one thing to hire a hooker if you weren’t getting any, but from the forced lunches and “sister dates” that Elain made the three of them go on, Feyre had always seemed to have a very active sex life.

“Oh, God, no,” Feyre visibly relaxed, caught off guard by even the implication. That made Nesta’s stomach relax. She hadn’t even realized she cared. “Rhys and I are fine, stronger even. There is power in giving up power, especially when you grapple with it on a daily basis. But this isn’t about me or Rhys.” Feyre leaned over and reached out to take Nesta’s hands, but stopped when Nesta visibly tensed at the mere idea of contact. “I’m really not lying when I say I think a little relief would help you.”

“Why do you insist I need help?” Nesta ground out through her teeth.

Feyre sighed and stood. There was something settling over her face, deep in her eyes. Sadness. “Suit yourself, sister.” She stood and, to Nesta’s surprise, took a swig from the half-empty gin bottle she’d pushed in Nesta’s face earlier. Her face screwed up in a grimace, “Jesus, how do you drink that shit?”

“I don’t even taste it anymore.” Nesta looked off, toward the window. Toward the empty corner where the wedding dress had hung for months. She’d taken it down that night after he had left.

That bone-deep sadness returned to Feyre’s eyes, “Alis will be here this afternoon.”

She left without another word.

Nesta sighed, catching Cassian’s attention, but she said nothing. She kept a steady flow of booze in her veins after Feyre left for three more days, sometimes just laying in bed for hours while the world spun. She saw Tomas, saw Elain, but most often she saw hazel eyes and bold, dark lines inked across a broad, tanned chest. Those were the torturous hours, when the desire would rise in her, when she would feel something just like Feyre said. Even if it made her soul burn. He was haunting her. He’d left her alone, angry and wet, for what? Because she refused to accept his “help”? Wasn’t this all just fucking anyway? What difference did it make how she responded?

The frustration had overwhelmed her until she finally realized that it didn’t matter how much she drank, he wouldn’t go away. She couldn’t chase him into a whiskey-soaked oblivion like she could the memories of her fiancé and her sister. He was real. He was still breathing. He was making her life a living hell.

He was going to pay for it.

So, she’d called Amren back. Had made him meet her here of all places. Had put on a dress and a pair of heels and more makeup than she’d been planning to wear at her own wedding. A costume. A mask. If he was going to “help” her, at least it wouldn’t seem like her that he was helping. She’d fuck him out of her life on her terms. Just once wouldn’t damn her to hell, right?

Nesta had never been to Hewn City before. Clubbing had never been her style. She was more of a library, bookworm kind of girl. But now that she was here, she kind of liked the secrecy of it all, the discretion everyone had whispered about. It made her feel like a character in one of her books, a different kind of escape than booze offered, with the rouge-tinted lights and shadowy, padded hallways. She could be anyone here. She would be anyone here. Anyone but herself.

“I think this is it,” Cassian’s deep rumble sounded behind her. They stopped in front of a painted black door, the marker flickering “3B” in the light of the candle sconce behind them. Nesta fit the key into the lock and turned it.

The room was cooler than the hall, but she wasn’t sure the temperature was what made her break out in gooseflesh. There was a massive four-poster bed in the center of the room covered in black satin sheets drawn back against a deep crimson comforter. Only a handful of hanging exposed bulbs lit the space, giving the boudoir decoration some industrial finishes. It was like a scene out of some vampire film noir. The light reflecting off heavy restraint cuffs at each corner of the bed only heightened the effect. A dark armoire loomed in the corner. Nesta was sure that if she opened it, she would find any number of instruments with which to tease and taunt Cassian with. This place was a sex dungeon and she had paid to be a mistress tonight.

Cassian’s mistress.

Nesta took a deep breath and settled into this new character, some confident woman who knew exactly what she wanted and knew exactly how to take it from a willing participant. She sauntered over to the foot of the bed and leaned back against it to look at him. He was so quiet tonight, looking around the room like she had, taking it all in.

“Cat got your tongue?” Nesta proded.

“No,” he hesitated, stuffing his hands into his front pockets like an embarrassed school boy rocking forward on his toes. It only lasted for a second before he hid it behind a smirk, “no, just a little….confused?”

“About what?” She crossed her feet at the ankle and let the deep slit on her dress fall open, revealing almost every inch of her long legs. His eyes widened momentarily before he cleared his throat. Was he….nervous?

“Well, uhh,” he was stammering now, the false bravado unable to keep up with the situation unfolding in front of him, “if I’m being honest, I’m not sure what to do.”

“You mean, Cassian, self-proclaimed sex therapist, doesn’t know what to do?” The teasing in her voice blushed his cheeks pink, “well, color me surprised. I thought it would have been clear by now.”

“It’s not that it’s...you’re…” he cocked his head, “different.” His eyes followed every inch of bare skin from her painted toe to the top of the slit an inch below her hip. “Something changed.”

Why does he make this so damn difficult?

“Yes, well,” she replied, biting her bottom lip for effect, “I decided that I want you to help me.” His head straightened.

“Do you?” He crossed his arms over his broad chest, emphasizing the size of his biceps. His nervous energy cooled in seconds, giving way to something else, something that had been simmering beneath the ice.

“I do,” she slipped back a little farther onto her palms, tilting her head back. She was a predator, setting a pretty, needy trap for him. If he got off on a savior complex, she’d play the part until she got what she wanted. “I just want to feel normal again.” She smiled internally as she watched her words wash over him. Watched him take a few deep breaths, watched him move for the first time since they walked in the room.

He kept his body closed, his arms a barrier between the two of them, as he stalked forward. Nesta stopped breathing, feeling his gaze shift from confusion and questions to calculated assessment. He paused in front of her and bent down, his hands sinking into the mattress on either side of her slim waist. The space between them was thinner than the air atop the mountains in Illyria.

“I think…” he looked her in the eye, no blinking, no touching, just a wisp of mint from his mouth, “that’s a load of bullshit.”

A rush of fury, so white hot it blinded her, licked down her arm. She raised her open hand and ripped it through the air.

Only to be caught in an iron grip.

“Ah, ah, dear Nesta,” his lips curled up on one side, “I like a little pain with my pleasure, but not without my consent.”

All she could do was stare him down as she huffed, imagining the breath leaving her nostrils in puffs of hot smoke. A caged dragon in pretty clothes begging to get out. But hell would freeze over before she moved first. She could feel the tension between them, feel the electricity pulsing through him where his fist gripped her wrist. Maybe it was her pheromone-laced delusion but she thought he might want this as much as she did. He wanted her challenge, her adamant wall. He wanted to break her, remake her. Little did he know that you can’t break what’s already broken.

Just a character, just a role to play...

“Oh, come on, Cassian,” she tried to free her hand but he remained hard as stone around her wrist. He hadn’t pinned her legs though. She slid one bare leg up the inside seam of his jeans. The muscles flexed and contracted underneath the well-fit fabric, higher and higher, until she reached the apex. He hissed. A feline smile spread across her face when she felt it, felt him, hard and begging for her. “I think you want this a little more than you’re willing to admit, more than you’re allowed to admit.”

His nostrils flared, barely imperceptible, but even the smallest changes in him drew her notice. Why? It was a question she didn’t want to even ask herself, but it kept coming, night and day. Why did this night feel like the edge of a dangerous cliff? Why did his agreement to come tonight feel like more than just a business arrangement? Why did the tension between them feel like her only anchor to this life? She pressed harder into him, needing to move, to get this over with, to fuck him right out of her head.

“Nesta.” His voice brought her back from those questions that haunted her like the inked lines hidden underneath his t-shirt. So close now, so close to her fingers, her mouth. She looked up at him, aware of her knee still cradled between his legs.

“Cassian.” Her voice practically sang. The song of his own personal siren.  

He was so still. If he hadn’t said her name she wouldn’t have been sure he was even breathing. He placed his hand between his groin and her knee and stepped backward. His pupils were wide, endless pools, black as tar and eating at the hazel surrounding them. He was drunk on the lust, drowning in it just like she was.

“Take off that dress before I rip it off.”

A bone-deep shiver ran from the crown of her head to the tips of her toes at the command, reaching back up to settle between her thighs. She flushed from the heat of his gaze on her skin as she stood, reaching behind her neck to loose the three pearl buttons between her pride and her desire. Fuck it. The dress pooled at her feet.

The corner of her lip tugged upward when she heard his breath catch. She wasn’t wearing anything under the dress. Lingerie had felt like too much and her regular cotton cheekies would have been too conspicuous beneath her close-fitting dress, so nothing had been the only choice. The right choice if Cassian’s jeans had anything to say about it, clearly growing tighter by the second.

Nesta backed herself onto the bed again, digging in with her heels to push herself toward the headboard as gracefully as she could while burning alive. And she was burning under his gaze. Every flick of his dilated pupils, from her bare legs, to her full breasts, to her smooth stomach, to her glistening cunt, she burned. When her head thudded against the carved cherry wood headboard, his eyes finally met hers. A low growl sounded in the back of his throat.

“See something you want, Cassian?” she asked, struggling to keep her tone innocent, indifferent.

“Depends, Nes.” She ignored the heat that pooled at the nickname, especially when he said, “what are you offering?”

She bit her lip at his words. And spread her knees open for him. Now, come and take it.

He went wholly still as pink creeped into his tan cheeks. He was fucking blushing at her cunt on display for him. A filthy thought entered her head and before she could shut it down, she reached between her legs and traced a finger over her slit. The low lights flickered in the reflection off the wetness laced there before her finger disappeared….

Right between Nesta’s wine-colored lips.

His eyes tracked that finger in and out of her mouth as she sucked and swirled her tongue around it, moaning at the taste of her arousal, the eroticism of the gesture. She released her finger with a pop and smiled wickedly at him.

“Want to taste?”

Cassian moved swift as a thunderclap, as if her words were paddles jumpstarting his heart into quick, heavy beats. He pulled off his shirt. Those thick, black lines of ink that haunted her dreams were on full display, curling around his biceps and across his broad shoulders. She wanted to trace them with her tongue, taste the salt on his skin. He didn’t bother with some cliché striptease. His fingers fumbled with his belt, fumbled with the top button and zipper of those tight jeans. He tripped out of them, splaying his hands across the rumpled comforter as he kicked his pants somewhere across the room, losing his shoes and socks at some point between.

She would have smirked at the clumsiness, questioned his self-proclaimed prowess as a sex therapist, if her throat hadn’t gone completely dry at the size of him. Even through his underwear there was no mistaking it—massive, just like every inch of the rest of his body. Of course, he had a cock to match.

He grinned, following her eyes, guessing her train of thought. The bed dipped as he crawled toward her, full prince of cats on display again. A man who knew what people saw when they looked at him and enjoyed that power, that raw sexual energy dripping from his every pore. With that glint in his eye, she was happy to play along—for now.

Every thread in the expensive duvet cover beneath her set a thousand sparks rocketing across her skin. His movements were measured, purposefully kept from touching her skin. He was so close she could feel the warmth radiating off of him with every inch forward, every inch toward where she wanted him. All of him. His fingers, his mouth, his cock. Nesta started to fidget with anticipation, ready for him to spread her open and take, take, take, but she wouldn’t beg. Wouldn’t reach or claw or whimper, no matter how much she wanted to.

Feyre might be paying, but she would own him before the end. Even if she had to sacrifice her soul to do it.

When his mouth finally made contact with her skin, a whisper of a kiss along the inside of her thigh, it was a struggle not to moan. Loud. She was strung tighter than a bowstring and he knew. Her traitor body was going to beg for him with or without words, so she opened her mouth instead.

“Gonna fuck me senseless, Cassian?”

His head jerked up from between her thighs, that feline smile turning her molten. “You know, Nesta. I think I’ll shut you up instead.”

Someone as big as he was shouldn’t have been able to move that fast. Shouldn’t have been able to cover her entire body with his and claim her mouth between one second and the next. His hands curled behind her neck to pull her firmly to him and devoured her. Their tongues clashed, dancing together, as she moaned into his mouth. Whether it was surprise or pleasure or both that pulled it from her, she wasn’t sure. The mint and adrenaline still laced his tongue, this time with a natural smokiness that she hadn’t noticed before. He licked at her, sucked at her lower lip. She nipped at him, teeth as much a weapon as her words, her hands. She dragged her nails down his naked back and drew a hiss from him, maybe some blood too if the tang of iron was any indication.

It only spurred him.

“You know these lips taste better when they’re not liquor-stained,” he panted. He studied her face, she knew it must be flushed from his kiss, and slowly ground his hips into hers, with the same bruising intensity he claimed her mouth, drenching himself in her through the thin fabric of his underwear. Those really need to disappear. Her fingers continued their violent path down his back to the waistband of his boxer briefs, the only barrier left between everything she wanted. Wanted, never needed. They danced around to the front of him and sought purchase.

Another moan, loud and throaty filled the space between them.

My God.

“Off, off, off, off,” she was chanting when he finally released her mouth to move down to her neck, surely to mark her like she’d marked his back. It was going to be tit for tat with him. “OFF,” she clawed at his hips. He raised up and smirked at her.

“You just have to ask, Nes.” His lips curled to the side, “maybe say please.”

She held his gaze. Please. It was a chant in her head but she couldn’t say it. He saw it there, the challenge, the struggle, but this was a battle of wills. And Cassian was a seasoned general.

He ducked his head and nosed at her jaw, along her throat, peppering her skin with close-mouthed kisses. “Just say the word,” he ground into her again, not nearly the friction she wanted. His hands found her peaked breasts and traced her nipples, slow circles at first, then quick pinches accented by his teeth at her throat. There was no pattern, no guessing, no preparation. Every nerve ending was a live wire, screaming for his touch.

Nesta Archeron was going to die here. The flames in her belly were going to consume her and she was going to die at a high-priced sex club. And maybe she should. It might be worth it. Rhysand would never live it down. She wouldn’t sacrifice her pride for an orgasm. But, as his hips did another slow roll against hers and he scraped at her neck with his teeth, her resolve imploded.

“Please,” she croaked. She felt his smile against her skin.

“What was that?”

“Please,” she said a little louder, still barely a whisper.

“That’s awfully quiet, Nesta,” he licked at her collarbone and made her eyes roll back into her head. “Makes me think you don’t really want it.”

“Please,” she repeated, her head thrashing, “please, PLEASE.”

“Okay, okay,” he pushed up to lean back on his heels above her. “No need to shout.” The tease in his voice forced an impatient growl from her. He cocked an eyebrow as he toyed with the elastic waistband on his underwear, slowly pulling it down below the defined V set low on his abdomen, revealing inch after inch of smooth, tanned skin, until finally they were gone and there was nothing left between them but sexual tension and a promise of release.

Her eyes raked down his muscled body, unable to keep her hand from reaching to touch the hard planes of his chest and abdomen, reaching lower. His fingers wrapped around her wrist.

“Uh, uh, princess,” her cheeks flamed as he lifted her hand to his lips and left a tender kiss on her palm, “it’s my turn.”

She blinked and his mouth was on her. His hair, tufted at the back of his head, bobbed between her legs as he lapped up the wetness that had been pooling since they started their games tonight. Since he first leaned against her door frame, if she was being honest with herself. His lips wrapped around her clit and when he moaned around her, she saw stars. Her toes curled. Her fingers buried themselves in his hair. Her knees bent to capture his head forever between her thighs but he caught them before she could crush him with the force of her pleasure.

It might have been hours, days. He held her spread open and licked and suckled and fucked her entrance with his tongue. Careful, slow strokes to stoke the fire ripping through her veins but not enough to send her to her peak. Her thighs began shaking; her fingers knotted into his hair and held his mouth against her. His name was a holy chant in this unholy place.

“Cassian,” she sobbed as a tear rolled down her temple and into her sweat-soaked hair.

He groaned and release ripped through her. Waves of pleasure locked her body in a silent scream, her head tilted back and her mouth wide open. He kept stroking her through it, his tongue undulating against her clit over and over as her body jerked involuntarily once, twice before relaxing completely, melting into a warm, soft puddle of flesh.

There were no words. No thoughts. Nothing inside her head except for the truth of it. No one has ever made her feel like that, forced that kind of pleasure from her. Her harsh breaths were the only sound in the room as Cassian traced patterns on her inner thigh. She blinked furiously, clearing her eyes of any emotions that might betray her. Looking down, she caught his eye and his answering smile made her forget her own name.

He was looking up at her, his cheeks pink from the heat and pressure between her thighs. His hair was a fucked out mess. He looked...content. As if her orgasm was all he wanted, like he could do it again and again and not care if she ever touched his cock even though she’d never wanted anything more in her life.

But...what if he doesn't want that?

She tensed suddenly. He was an escort after all. This wasn’t his choice. What if all of this is just an act? She knew she shouldn’t care. She was a paying customer and shouldn’t care what he wanted. What his desires were. She should just take her pleasure, satiate her own desire, and leave. That had been the plan when she came here. Hell, she had just been acting when this all started.

Until he gave her the best orgasm of her entire fucking life. Until he called her on her bullshit, got naked, and got on his knees for her. Until he made her gasp his name and fucking cry for the privilege.

This was wrong. She shouldn’t—couldn’t—

I don’t deserve this.

Her breath caught in her throat. I need to get out of here.

She sat up so quickly her head spun. Her fingers caught on the restraints attached to the headboard and she recoiled. What am I doing? Why did I think this was a good idea? Cassian jerked up from between her legs at the motion, the perfect window for her to rip her legs from his vicinity and swing them to the floor.

“Nesta, what’s wrong?”

She heard him, confused, still panting, but she couldn’t find the words to answer him. The panic was bitter, the taste in stark relief to Cassian’s tongue. Stop! Where is my fucking dress? Her head swiveled frantically. A slip of navy stuck out from under the armoire in the corner. She lurched forward, grabbing and pulling on the dress that barely covered her ass, left nothing to the imagination. What have I done?

“Nesta, what is happening?” Cassian was louder this time. Loud enough to draw her eyes. He was leaning on one elbow, wide-eyed and still painfully hard. At this angle, she could see the angry red marks across his shoulder, darkening with dried blood in some places. A damning souvenir for what she had done. A claiming.

She couldn’t ignore the voice in her head. A betrayal.

“Was—” he sat up and leaned on his knees, “was it not good?” Some unfamiliar emotion danced across his eyes as he waited. She stared and stared and stared. “Did I—“ he kept hesitating, “did I not make you feel good?”

It was the doubt, thick and traitorous, in his voice that made her silently turn around and walk out the door.

------ *runs away*

tags: @sleeping-and-books @greerlunna @sjmships @cupcakey00 @queenestarcheron @awesomelena555 @mysticalunicole​ @lordof-bloodshed​ @courtofjurdan​

[atlafan]

Girlfriend - One Shot

a/n: I have no fucking self control! I was going to save this for Friday, but it’s fluffy and cute, so here we are. If you haven’t seen Charlie Puth’s mv for Girlfriend, I strongly suggest you watch it. It’s so cute, and so is the song, which inspired this quick little piece. Enjoy! 

Words: 2K

Warnings: FLUFF!

“Do you want to come over for dinner Friday night?”

It was a simple question that he had asked, and yet he was the one ready to shit his pants. Harry had been seeing Y/N sort of casually for about two months. They had met through mutual friends. It was cute, actually, he was having a pool party and one of his friends brought her.

“Harry, this is my friend, Y/N.” Greg had told him.

“It’s nice to meet you, thanks for having me.” She smiled. She was so cute, and polite. She excused herself to go change into her swim suit, and put her drinks inside.

“Where have you been hiding her?” Harry asked Greg.

“We work together! She’s super funny, thought I’d bring her along. That’s cool right?”

“Yeah, of course.” Harry peered over to watch her walk inside. “Might have to get to know her myself.”

“Good idea, sort of another reason why I brought her. I thought you two would get along well.”

And they did, maybe a little too well because she stayed at Harry’s house pretty late. She was one of the last people there, Harry gave her a tour of the house, they somehow ended up in his bedroom, and one thing led to another. She didn’t spend the night, which was just fine with him, but he did give her his number in case she ever wanted to come over again.

They started doing more things as a group: going to bars, dancing, movies, and game nights. Most nights ended the same, going back to one of their places and shagging.

“You know…I wouldn’t hate it if you spent the night.” She had said to him one night just as he was pulling his boxers on.

“Oh?”

“I really like fucking in the morning.” She said without missing a beat. Harry smiled big at her.

“Can’t say no to that now can I?”

He settled in next to her, spooned her all night long, and when they woke up she delivered. They had sex in her bed, and then had sex in her shower. They made breakfast together, and then he headed out. Harry was having so much fun with her he completely forgot he was sort of seeing a couple of other girls too. Unanswered texts and calls displayed on his phone…maybe he didn’t want to see them anymore. Maybe he only wanted to see Y/N. Did she feel the same way? Did she have a couple of other guys too? That’s what led him to ask her to a dinner at his house. Sure, she had been over for dinner before, but usually it was a long forgotten pizza as he fucked her on the couch.

“I’d love to come over! Can I bring anything?”

“Just yourself, babe.”

He took a deep breath after they hung up. He wanted to make her a fabulous meal, show her how serious he was about wanting things to move forward. Harry hadn’t had a proper girlfriend in quite some time, but he felt ready to take this next step with Y/N. He only wanted to be with her, he was sure of it.

He picked up a ton of ingredients to make a roasted chicken, and a ton of other sides. He was going to make mashed potatoes, and green beans, and…well…he didn’t let the potatoes boil long enough, so they were lumpy when he mashed them. He added sour cream and butter, but it looked disgusting. His chicken also was still frozen when he put it into the oven, so the skin burned.

“She’s gonna think I’m a fucking moron!” Harry was usually a pretty decent cook, but he was so nervous he couldn’t get any of the recipes right. “Fucking, Christ, get it together Styles.” He runs a hand through his hair and opens his drawer that he kept his takeout menus in. “Hi, yeah, I’d like to place an order for delivery…”

While Harry waits for his food to show up, he swiftly cleans the kitchen. He looked cute. He had a patterned short-sleeve button up on with a pair of shorts and loafers. His door rings, and he grabs his food. He takes everything out of their containers and plates it up to make it look like he made it. He essentially ordered what he wanted to make anyways. He gets everything onto the table and lights a couple of candles. He was happy with his work. His nerves were shot, but he was excited. Although, there was that little bit of fear in the back of his head that she’d just want to keep things casual.

When his door rings, he sprints over to it, and smiles when he sees her there. She looked adorable, as always. She was wearing a pair of jean-capris, and a peasant style shirt so her shoulders were exposed.

“Hi.” He says.

“Hi.” She smiles and holds up a bag. “I know you said I just needed to bring myself, but I brought dessert. I hate going anywhere empty handed.”

“You’re sweet, thanks.” He kisses her cheek, takes the bag, and lets her in.

“Wow, Harry.” She says as she looks at the table. “Fancy.”

“Expecting pizza?” He winks, and kisses her. “Please, sit.” He pulls a chair out for her and she sits down. He sets the dessert down in the kitchen, and then comes back out to sit with her. “You look really nice.”

“It’s just my usual.” She looks down at herself and then at him. She takes the glass of wine he already poured and has a sip. “Mm, my favorite, thanks.”

“Of course.” He takes a sip as well, maybe it would help him calm down.

“This looks really good, Harry. How’d you have the time after work?”

“Got some of it done this morning, it was no big deal.” He scoffs.

She takes her knife and fork, and cuts into her chicken. He watches as she licks her lips after and then dabs her mouth with her napkin.

“It’s delicious! Tastes like the chicken from that place we went to a couple of weeks ago with everyone.”

“Huh, you don’t say?” He takes a bite of mashed potatoes. “I’m glad we could get together tonight.”

“Me too.” She smiles and reaches to give his hand a squeeze. He stops her from taking her hands back to her fork. She furrows her brows at their hands and then looks at him. “Kinda need that to eat, Har.” She chuckles.

“I know, I just, uh, I wanted to say I like spending time with you.”

“I like spending time with you too, Harry.” She smiles. “May I have my hand back now? I don’t want this to get cold.”

“Right, sorry.”

“It’s okay.” She smirks. “You can hold my hand all you want after we eat.”

He smiles and continues eating. They both talk about their days and what they did at work. He loved watching her lips move as she spoke. He loved her toothy smile, and they she’d sometimes bite her bottom lip to suppress a laugh or two.

“I’d clean my plate, but I don’t wanna get too full. I promise it was really good, though.”

“No worries, gotta save room for dessert right? What did you bring?”

“I just snagged some cupcakes from the grocery store.” She shrugs. “Those ones with the lemon frosting you like so much.”

“Y/N?”

“Yes?”

“Would you…uh…would you…” He was sweating, and so incredibly nervous. He just needed to spit it out. She was looking at him, waiting. “I really like you, and I haven’t been talking to anyone else, and you’re really the only person I want to talk to. I hope you’re not seeing anyone else, but I get it if you are since this has been pretty casual.” He rubs the back of his neck. Her eyebrows were raised, waiting for him to say more. “I guess what I’m trying to say is…I wanna keep seeing you, I wanna see where this goes, and, well, would you want to be my girlfriend?”

Her mouth falls open. She smiles and bites her bottom lip, but still she doesn’t say anything.

“Oh god, you don’t want to do that yet? Is it too soon? I’m-“

“Harry.” She puts her hand on his shoulder. “You’re a wreck.” She giggles. “Calm down, babe. I’d love to be your girlfriend.”

“Really?” He says with relief.

“Yes…I was sort of expecting this conversation with the way you asked me over. Usually you’re not so formal over the phone.” She takes a sip of her wine. “I’m not seeing anyone else, either. I don’t know what kind of girl you think I am, but I’m usually a one guy kind of person, even when it’s just casual.” She licks her lips. “Besides.” She stands up and sits on one of his thighs, wrapping her arms around his neck. “I don’t quite think another guy could satisfy me the way you do.” He wraps his arms around her waist, and hides his face in her chest. She strokes a hand through his hair.

“Can we have the cupcakes now?” He mumbles.

“I’d like that.” She kisses the top of his head and gets off of him. She helps clear the table while he gets them out of the container. They each pop a small cupcake in their mouths. “Mm, I didn’t like lemon much until you showed me these, but I like it a lot now.”

“It’s tasty and refreshing.”

She bursts out laughing and he loves the way it sounds. Her arms move back around his neck as she continues to laugh.

“So, what stereotypical girlfriend things should I do first?” She asks, playfully.

“You could tell me you secretly hate all my decorations and take me shopping. That’s a pretty good one.”

“Or I could ask you to clean out one of your drawers for me way too soon and make you panic thinking I want to move in already.”

Harry presses his forehead to hers as he laughs.

“Let’s compromise on the most important one.”

“Which is what?”

“Leaving tampons in my bathroom.”

“Oh, Harry, I already started doing that.”

“You did?! How’d I miss ‘em?”

“I just put them in the cabinet under your sink…”

“Oh…I, like, never look in there.”

“Exactly.” She taps her temple. “Always thinking.”

His hands grip on her hips as he smiles.

“Alright, alright, what about other toiletries? Leave all your shit all over my bathroom, I don’t care. And then I’ll do the same to your place.”

“Sounds good to me.”

She pulls him close to kiss him, and he swings her around in his arms, hoisting her up to sit on top of the counter.

“As long as the sex doesn’t stop being so hot, I don’t really care how we do things.” He says against her lips.

“Oh, so that’s why you wanna lock me down, for the hot sex?”

“You caught me.”

His tongue swipes along her bottom lip and she opens up for him, letting him lick into her mouth. She tugs at his shirt as his hands slide up her thighs. She wraps her legs around his waist to get him closer, but it still wasn’t close enough.

“Harry.” She nips at his bottom lip. “Take me upstairs.”

“So demanding.” He smirks as his hands grip her ass to lift her.

“And yet, you have no problem listening.”

“That’s what good boyfriends do, right?”

“Mhm.” She kisses him as he brings her up the stairs to his bedroom.

“What do I get for being so good?” He kisses on her neck as he sets her down, her pulling him onto the bed with her.

“Anything you want.” She whispers in his ear. “I feel so bad that you were nervous earlier.” She pouts at him.

“You make me really nervous.” He kisses on her neck. “Butterflies in my stomach and everything.”

“Aww, well, no reason to be nervous now.” She cups his cheeks so he’ll look at her. “I’m all yours.”