#what's the gate for the snow kiss

[o-kettle-art]

byler in the snow

[enhard]

sim jaeyun — “you’re in safe hands”

pairing: s.jy x fem!reader

not proofread, enjoy! (MINORS DNI)

: you can’t handle looking at your boyfriend’s nice and veiny hands without doing anything about it.

cw: SMUT SMUT ALLLL SMUT, everything is consensual, hand kink (obviously), a bit of size kink, unprotected sex, creampie, fingering, riding, jake calls you princess most of the time, playing with your tits, slight choking, mentions of sending nudes??, lots of whimpers from him, jake slaps your mouth, established relationship, jake has a drivers license woahwoahwoah

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you faintly hear the ringtone of your phone through the buzzing in your ear. you slowly open your eyes, let out a sigh and immediately grab your phone to stop that annoying sound.. until you look at the now lit up screen of your phone, that your boyfriend jake is calling you.

you quickly sit up in shock, trying to clear your throat and answering the call, remembering that you were supposed to go on a date today.

“mm..yes my love? how are.. you?” you say, trying your best not to yawn in the middle of your sentence.

you can hear jake laughing at you through the other line. “princess, you’re still sleeping at this hour? i’m sorry for waking you up but.. it’s 4 pm already.” wait.. what?? 4 pm?? you were supposed to meet up 3 hours ago. how is it possible that you slept this long?

“don’t worry.. sunoo told me that he tried calling you since morning and you never answered, so i just let you sleep. instead of lunch.. could we go out to dinner now..?”

“ugh..fuck.. i’m sorry. i didn’t realise i slept that long.. is it okay in 3 hours..? i need to shower..” you reply as you’re massaging your head from the massive headache you got.

“of course love. i’ll come pick you up.. although.. does this mean i get no shower sneak peek??” he chuckles, and you just roll your eyes at his words.

“hold your horses now.. you might get to see me another time.” you smile.

there’s a few awkward seconds of silence, then he decides to hang up so you can get ready.

truth is.. you slept this long because of the hangover you’re having after a longgg night partying with your best friend sunoo. main reason why your headache is also present. —

you hop in the shower, actually debating to send jake a little picture or a video but.. you decide to be a bit of a tease. you just finish your shower and start getting ready.

you get dolled up all for him, putting on a nice laced dress and your favourite ysl lipgloss, that jake bought for you as a present not long ago. you get your phone and keys, locking your huge metal gate. your phone makes a few clicking sounds while you search for jake’s number to call him.

“baby, i’m right in front of my house. i’ll be waiting for you.”

“okay princess, i’m almost there. i can’t wait to see you”

you smile at your phone as you hang up, already seeing the blinding lights of his black suv, stopping right next to you. he gets out the car to check you out for atleast 5 minutes, offering you a kiss and then opening the car door like a true gentleman. you get in the car, the seats all warmed up. “good.” you say in your mind. it’s mildly snowing out, you needed this.

jake sits back in the driver’s seat, getting ready to leave. you turn to look at him while he’s focused on the road and you can’t help but admire him. you would lie if you said that he’s not the hottest man you’ve ever laid your eyes upon. with his slick back black hair, a nice black suit hugging his waist while also complementing his eyes.

your eyes suddenly slip to his arms, more specifically his hands. they’re resting on the top of the steering wheel, his fingers so long and pretty, multiple veins following from his forearm up to the back of his hand. that scenery alone made you squeeze your thighs together, knowing you couldn’t act on it here..

there is only one thing you thought about on that silent car ride, his long fingers inside you. you needed that more than anything. right now. instead, you try to look the other way, your body as stiff as a rock.

jake looks at you for a split second wondering why you’re moving around in your seat so much. he smiles, reaching out one hand to place on your inner left thigh. “what’s wrong love? are you uncomfortable?”

you thought you would let out a moan right there, right as he placed his hand on your inner thigh. you quickly shake your head left and right trying to diffuse the situation. you accidentally look downwards at your lap, and see that same hand, now grasping the soft skin of your thigh, one vein getting more prominent with each squeeze.

you continue through this hell for a few more minutes until you arrive, exhaling when he gets his hand off you.

. . . you get to your table, through the reservation that jake made previously. the place is pretty packed for a high end restaurant like this one. you’re both making small talk, asking how your day was and.. what plans you have for tonight.. he’s flipping through the menu and all you can stare at are those hands. you begin to breathe more rapidly, getting impatient.

“who cares about food right now? all i want are those fingers in my mouth” you think, trying not to slap yourself from the realisation of what you just almost said out loud.

still, you finish eating, he pays with his black card of course. even though you keep insisting that you want to pitch in. he loves spoiling you every time and all you can give him in return are kisses or.. something more.

after another few excruciating minutes in that car, you arrive back at your home. jake sits down on the couch, manspreading while you take your shoes off.

“thank you my love.. the dinner was amazing. what can i do to repay you?” he plasters on a confused look on his face, almost replying with “you don’t have to repay me” but.. seeing how beautiful you were for him.. how you looked and how you got ready all for him.. made him needy. in a blink of an eye. he knew he was lucky dating you, and the thought that you were all his made him so excited.

“hmm.. there might be something you can do for me princess. you think i’m stupid? i saw how you were drooling over my hands. you really love them huh?”

you get a bit embarrassed, but you’re way too horny to deny anything right now. “yeah.. i really do… i need them. please.” you say already biting your bottom lip.

you can see him slowly form a grin on his face, not saying a word. he pats his thigh two times, to show you the seat you’ll have for the rest of the night.

you eagerly walk up to him and take off your coat to take your seat on his lap. he pulls you into a kiss that turns into a make out session. he travels his hands down to your waist, and you move yours to hold onto his shoulders. you don’t pull away from his lips for a long time, the taste keeping you addicted.

he makes you pull away at one point, smiling at you. he takes his own coat off, having only a white satin shirt underneath. two buttons of the shirt are already undone, showing his chest real well.. with a nod from him as agreement, you begin unbuttoning his shirt, in a few seconds leaving him shirtless. you saw those abs and muscles countless times yet.. it still makes your body have a reaction you can’t explain.

he softly tugs on your dress while whining and pouting. you laugh at his pouty face, finding him so adorable yet so demanding. “go ahead”, quiet words leave your mouth while looking into his eyes.

he does not hesitate. he takes off that dress almost ripping it off out of excitement, leaving you in your underwear. he uses his middle and ring finger to open your mouth, shoving them in and wetting them with your saliva. you suck on his fingers a bit, getting to be a bit of a show-off.

he pulls his fingers out of your mouth, taking off your panties now. he immediately starts rubbing your clit first, flicking it a bit and getting it all wet.. then he moves down to your folds, moving his fingers back and forth. you grab onto one of his shoulders for support, digging your nails in it.

“l..love please.. put them in..”

he does exactly as he’s told. he shoves both fingers inside you, slowly pumping them in and out.. you’re rapidly losing your mind, this is everything you wished for. you grab onto his wrist with your other hand, trying to make him keep going but.. to no avail.

he stops, giving you a signal to ride his fingers instead. you get into position, trying your best to move your hips back and forth. you moaned feeling his fingers in you, not being able to resist anymore already. when he curls his fingers up inside you, he was almost convinced you were about to cum.

you ride his fingers as well as you can, trying to get on his good side. he’s not quite satisfied with your pace, so he gives you a slap over the mouth. “ride them faster princess, what’s up? tired already?” you’re fucked up as is, his words are making this WAY harder for you. the moans are getting more and more consistent, figuring that you’re going to cum soon.

“okay slut, slow down now. i don’t want you to get too tired. i’ll make you bounce on my cock just like this if you’re a good girl for me.” but… you don’t slow down. with how much energy you have left, you keep going. “ahh..i need to cum..first..plea..” he cuts you off, his tone getting more irritated.

“oh? you wanna cum? let me help you cum then whore.” he grabs onto your neck, choking you ever so slightly while fucking you with his fingers. he’s moving his hand as fast as he can trying to make you cum. you moan uncontrollably at this point, getting so close to your release and not being able to talk properly from the choking.

you do end up cumming all over his veiny fingers and pants. the grasp on your neck loosens, leaving a red mark around it.

“mmm.. since i stretched you out so well with my fingers.. how about we put that to good use?” he smiles, that smile being far away from innocent. you know exactly what he wants and you’re willing to give him that.

you catch up your breath, grabbing onto his shoulders again. “let me ride you then.” you reply, trying to be as nonchalant as you can.

you move your hands down to his pants, slowly slipping them off him. the bulge in his boxers is huge, obviously you already knew that but the thought didn’t comfort you. he’s usually hard to take in, now imagine being all fucked up and having to ride him. you let out a small scared sigh, while taking his boxers off too.

his cock springs up immediately and you lick your lips looking at it. you grab the base to stroke it a few times, before getting into position to ride him. you intertwine your fingers with his as you slowly go down on him. you almost feel like giving out when you take him all in but you need to make him feel good.

you slowly start riding him, his size almost being unbearable to take. he loves it though, he loves how you struggle to take him and how that small bulge appears in your stomach everytime you bounce up and down. he grabs and pulls on your hair just to make you speed up, teasing you with that hair pull each time he feels you slowed down.

you pick up your pace significantly, moving up and down, back and forth on him. your eyes roll back from the pleasure and it really feels like he’s splitting you into two. he stops holding hands to take your tits out of your bra just to fondle them a bit. he’s running his thumb all over your nipples, sending you shivers down your spine.

“such a good girl.” he remarks, coming from him this is a compliment. you smile at his words, motivating you to keep going. he’s very deep inside you right now, any sudden movement almost making you cum a second time..

you can hear him getting more vocal over time, he’s whimpering and cooing.. the usual tough guy that would control every movement of yours, is now getting so vocal.. you love it though, your favourite part of it might just be his moans.

you clench your teeth and force yourself to go as fast as you can, just to make him cum.

“fffuck…. princess hold.. on.. i’m close..” just music to your ears. you want to let this man fill you up right now. you push yourself even more to overstimulation just to make him cum.

he lets out a whimpery moan getting so close already.

“cum.. inside me.. please my love..”

those are the last words you can say before he cums all in you. he’s filling you up to the brim and you can do is smile, feeling his cum leaking out of you. you give him a sweet kiss on the lips then on the nose.

“fucking hell… maybe we should go out to dinner more often hm?”

you laugh, running your fingers through his hair. “you’re so cute.. now, wanna join me in the shower? no games this time.”

“waittt.. so this is why you didn’t send anything from your shower today.. let’s go for another round baby. what do you think?” he says, hugging your waist.

“hmmm.. maybeee. if you use those hands of yours again.”

“well, you know you’re in safe hands with me.”

[gloomwitchwrites]

Winter Gem

Thranduil x Female Elf Reader

Content & Warnings: soft!Thranduil, widowed!Thranduil, fluff, peril & rescue, mild hurt/comfort

Word Count: 1.8k

Seeking something precious for Thranduil, you're caught in a storm. When you don't return, he goes searching for you.

A/N: For @firelightinferno

ao3 // taglist // main masterlist // winter 2023 masterlist

“The first snows have arrived.”

“It has come early.”

Thranduil inclines his head in acknowledgement. “Indeed.”

You stand beside Thranduil outside the main gates. Five guards stand nearby but there is no danger. A steady snowfall drifts down from the sky. The snowflakes are slightly gray in appearance, almost like ash on the wind. You frown down at a few of the flakes that land on your leather vambrace.

“You look ready for your hunt,” observes Thranduil, gesturing toward your attire with the tip of his head.

“Yes,” reply softly. “I plan on heading out for a bit.”

His eyebrows rise toward his hairline. “In this weather?”

You glance up from the vambrace and meet his blue eyes. Thranduil’s gaze is startling and sharp. Piercing. Intense. It cuts right down to your heart. His gaze always holds you hostage, wrapping you up in his essence. Most might find Thranduil intimidating, but you know better.

“Is my king telling me I cannot?” You’re teasing him, and Thranduil knows this. His smile is one of soft amusement.

“As long as you return to me. You are free to do as you wish.” Even though Thranduil’s tone is gentle, you understand the deeper meaning.

Thranduil lost his wife many years ago. Other than his son, Legolas, you are his comfort. He wants you to be free, to enjoy the pleasures of life, but he also wants you to be safe, to return to him at the end of every leaving.

Thranduil glances over his shoulder. The guards on duty discreetly glance away, staring off into the distance as if they’ve suddenly found something of great interest. Thranduil leans in and shifts his body to block their view of you. He is close enough that it might appear that the two of you are kissing, but he does not meet your lips.

In the end, Thranduil is private about affection. He does not like to share your tender moments together in front of others.

“Enjoy your hunt. I eagerly await your return.”

You give him a half-hearted, sarcastic bow that immediately puts a wide smile on his face. Thranduil watches you until you disappear into the trees. Perhaps he lingers longer than that, wondering if you will turn around and come back to him.

It is true. You are on a hunt, but not for what he or anyone else is likely expecting.

Over a week ago, Thranduil went out in the woods with some of the guards on patrol. It’s the first time he’s been out beyond the walls in some time. Many patrols that ventured into the northern regions reported back on a strangeness in the air, and the scent of evil. Thranduil decided to investigate.

While tracking, he lost something precious.

Around his neck on a chain, Thranduil kept a silver ring. Within the ring is a precious gem, a blue stone so pale it almost appears white like a burning star. The chain that held it snapped while he and the guards chased a group of spiders that had made their way south.

He remembered it snagging, and while he did not show any distress upon telling you of its disappearance, you also know how much that ring and jewel means to him. It was a gift from his wife when they were newly married. She had a matching one, but upon her death, Thranduil moved it from his finger to around his neck.

This hunt—your hunt—is about that ring. You have a fairly good idea about where it might have fallen, and there is no reason for it to have moved since then. Few enter these woods unless they follow the road, and that is on rare occasions.

Tracking is your specialty, and your time is not limited due to the falling snow. But you’ve tracked in worse weather. The snow is unfortunate, but you can still search as long as it remains at its current pace. The tree cover will keep much of the snow in the higher canopy. There will be time yet before the snow completely covers the ground and you lose the trail.

Heading north, you retrace the path the patrol took. Yes, a week has passed, and nature reclaims much, but not everything is hidden so quickly. There are small disturbances that indicate the path ahead.

As you begin to draw nearer to the area Thranduil mentioned, the snow starts to pick up. It becomes thicker, not staying above in the canopy but instead making its way to the ground. It’s not ideal, but you can manage.

Thranduil mentioned two tree trunks growing together and then breaking apart. When you happen upon it, the snow comes down in thicker sheets. On the ground, it’s sticking. Collecting. Time is running out. Elves have good eyes, and you focus in on the ground, gnarled roots, and underbrush.

Near the base of the tangled tree, you notice a slight sparkle. Approaching it, you go down on one knee, brushing away some of the snow.

“Found you.”

The ring is there, resting in the roots. It appears undamaged, and that is a relief. Picking it up, you tuck it into an inside pocket, protecting it from the elements.

The snow crunches under your boots, and the wind howls. For the first time, you shiver. Cold is not and has never been an issue. Elves can withstand a great many things, including winter weather.

Frowning, you turn into the chilly wind. There is a disturbance. Something dark and foul. It sets the edges of your nerves tingling. A simmering suspicion bubbles up from somewhere within you, question whether this snow is natural or not.

Turning on your heel, you head back the way you came. But the snow is heavy, and your fresh tracks are starting to slip away, returning to the snow. As you walk, the snowfall becomes a storm. The wind whips up, swirling the snow around until you cannot see more than a few feet in front of your face.

Your instincts were right. This storm is not natural. It is too early for it, and storms like these are rare in the Woodland Realm.

The toe of your boot catches in a downed tree branch and you slam face first into the snow. It’s freezing. Temperature isn’t usually a deterrent for the elves, but this is beyond cold. It’s as if you’ve been swallowed whole by a massive glacier.

You walk and walk, and you have no idea if you’ve gained any ground. There are no visible signs, and you’re not sure how far you’ve gone, or if you’re simply walking in circles. The snow is deepening or perhaps you’re imagining it. Everything seems darker, like the world is closing in.

You’re not dressed for this sort of weather.

And you’re tired. So tired. Your knees and thighs burn, and sitting down for some rest doesn’t seem so bad. It’s fine. You can take refugee within the deep roots of a tree. You can stay warm there until the snow dissipates. Then, you can return. Thranduil will understand.

As if opening for you, the roots of a nearby tree expand, showing safety from the storm. You slink into it, curling up into a ball.

You drift in the howling wind. There is a haze that sits on your eyelashes. Whether you dream or not is irrelevant. Numbness oozes into your limbs, and that only forces you to curl up tighter, wanting to pull away from the cold.

A hand touches the side of your head. It is warm. Gentle. The fingers slide up to brush your hair out of your face. You hear your name but it is a whisper. Distant. So far away it doesn’t seem real.

There are arms around you. Lifting. Steady. And when you inhale, the scent is familiar. You know who it is instantly.

“Thranduil,” you murmur, and the answer is a gentle squeeze of your hand.

“I found you, my star.”

There are only short moments of consciousness. There is snow. Cold. The antlers of an elk. The gates of home, and then warmth. So much warmth that the numbness begins to recede.

You are brought back to the living world near a roaring fire. Beneath you is a makeshift bed comprised of pillows and soft blankets. You shift, and feel bare skin against bare skin. Slowly, you push yourself to sitting.

Your leather gear is gone, replaced with a soft robe that traps in the heat.

“You’re awake.” Thranduil’s voice is a gentle, comforting hug.

Turning toward his voice, you watch as he glides across the floor. Thranduil wears silver robes of starlight. In his hands in a small tray. On it is a steaming cup of tea and an assortment of food. Bending at the knees, Thranduil settles in beside you, placing the tray down on the blankets.

“You came looking for me,” you say, and your voice nearly cracks with emotion.

“Did you think I would not?” he asks, arranging the food around on the tray.

You know, deep in your heart, that Thranduil would come, but you also believed in your abilities as a tracker. “When did you start to worry?”

Thranduil lifts the cup off the tray and presents it to you. “When the storm picked up. Something about it felt unnatural.” You take it, and bring the warm beverage to your lips. “I gathered some guards and we set out. It is good that we found you in time.” He pauses. “I’m not sure my heart could take any more loss.”

The heat of the tea spreads throughout your body, the chill slipping away quickly. “I do believe you are correct. That storm was not natural.”

Thranduil nods. “There is a growing darkness to the north. The scouts on patrol have spoken of it often but have been unable to get close enough for more details.”

“Perhaps I strayed too close,” you murmur.

“Perhaps,” replies Thranduil, reaching out to take your hand. He lifts it, and brings it into his lap. Using both hands, he rotates your wrist until your palm faces the ceiling. Then, he guides your open palm to his lips, placing a soft kiss in the middle of it.

Instant warmth shoots out from that spot, running down your arm and piercing your heart like an arrow. Slowly, he curls your fingers in, creating a loose fist, and then brushes his lips against your knuckles before pulling away.

He does not release your hand. “I know why you left.”

“Thranduil—”

“You did not need to explain. I understand why.” Thranduil reaches out and cups your cheek, turning your face toward him. “I am thankful that you found it, but you are also precious to me, and losing you is a far greater loss.”

You turn into his touch. “That ring is important to you.”

“Many things are important to me. But the ring is just that. A thing. You are breathing. You are here. I would like to keep it that way.”

Your eyes drift close and you revel in the warmth of his touch. “Are you mad?”

“Never.”

“Will you hold me?”

“For as long as you like.”

taglist:

@foxxy-126 @glassgulls @km-ffluv @sweetbutpsychobutsweet @singleteapot @firelightinferno @glitterypirateduck @tiredmetalenthusiast @protosslady @childofyuggoth @coffeecaketornado @ninman82 @therealbloom

[tomriddleslovergirl]

I could have died right then, cause he was right beside me

Pairing: Dark!President!Coriolanus Snow x Reader

Warnings: gaslighting, kidnapping

Based off of this prompt: She opened the apartment door to hundreds of roses.. She knew where they were from; he had found her

Being with Coriolanus was intoxicating. The way he kissed you like he wanted to consume your being. The way he would touch you like you were made of glass. Or the way he whispered sweet nothings to you. All of it had you falling head over heels for him.

And it almost had you ignoring his toxic behavior. Almost.

At first you thought it was cute; the way Coriolanus would get jealous when you spoke with another man, or how he'd get clingy when you'd try to leave the house.

But then Coriolanus became President of Panem, and he started changing. Or maybe he was always like that.

It was small things at first. Guards following you around when you would go out; which made sense, you were the First Lady of Panem after all! But then Coriolanus was controlling when you would see your friends and family, and the foods you ate, and the clothes you wore, the media you consumed. Very soon, you were rarely leaving the house unless it was to make a public appearance with Coriolanus at galas or interviews. And even then, you'd have to stay by his side the entire time.

And if you were being honest to yourself, you only noticed these things because of your bestfriend.

You had been speaking to her on the phone, and she sounded worried for some reason; asking you why you barely spent time with her anymore, or with anyone else for that matter.

You'd denied it at first. "We talked at the gala, remember?" you spoke into the phone.

"And when was the last time we spent time together? Or anyone else for that matter? One on one without your husband?" she had questioned you.

You had decided to end the conversation with her there, and tried to not think about it, but you couldn't help how it felt like a heavy pit was resting in your gut every time you saw a guard or spoke with Coriolanus.

You decided to bring it up to Coriolanus one night in what you hoped to be a non non discernible way. You'd been laying in bed with him, one of his hands rubbing up and down your back.

"I'm going out with Clemensia tomorrow," you whispered to him.

His hand stopped moving. "You didn't tell me."

"Well, I'm telling you now." You frowned.

Coriolanus didn't speak for a few moments but you could hear him breathing. You couldn't see his expression in the dark too, so you couldn't tell what he was thinking until he spoke, "You can't go. I'd have to get in contact with the chauffeur, and get enough guards in order to accompany you-"

Excuse after excuse on why you couldn't visit her. Coriolanus was almost convincing.

You hadn't decided to leave him right then, because you wanted to believe Coryo was just thinking about your wellbeing, and in a twisted way, maybe Coriolanus thought he was.

But eventually you did, and it was like waking up from a trance. You were suddenly aware of all the cameras in your home, of the guards watching your every move, of Coriolanus's grip tightening just a little bit whenever you brought up one of your friends - or God forbid, a man.

So, you decided you wanted out of your relationship with Coriolanus. You weren't dumb; you knew you couldn't just go up to Coriolanus as say you wanted a divorce. Something in your gut told you Coriolanus wouldn't let you.

You decided to run away.

It must have been one of the most difficult and terrifying things you've ever done; trying to collect small bits of money that Coriolanus wouldn't notice missing, and the worst part of it all was physically leaving.

You snuck away through one of the windows and out a small little broken area of the huge gate that encircled the enormous house.

You were able to successfully avoid the peacekeepers that surrounded as you'd spent time memorizing where and when they patrolled, and you hoped you weren't caught on any security footage.

You smelt Coriolanus before you saw him; the smell of artificial of artificial roses attacking your nostrils.

Hundreds of white roses littered your tiny apartment, and in the middle of the room was Coriolanus; a red rose pinched between his fingers.

"Dove."

One word and it was enough to send shivers down your spine.

Coriolanus ripped the stem of the flower in half before walking up to you; he walked quickly, - like he was afraid you'd run away- though it seemed like he was trying to keep some semblance of looking civilized.

Sweat soaked baby hairs stuck to his forehead and you flinched when he stuck the rose atop your ear.

Coriolanus's hands gripped your arms firmly so you couldn't squirm your way out of his grip. The smell of roses grew stronger with him near you.

You thought of spitting on his face, - and when you thought about it, Coriolanus looked paler than usual- but noticed the two peacekeepers behind him.

"This place is rather small, don't you think?" Coriolanus asked.

You could tell it was a rhetorical question but decided to answer anyways, "not at all."

Truthfully it was, but the small apartment was all you could afford.

Coriolanus tightened his grip on you. "It's time you come home, dove."

"So I can stay there and never leave?" You hiss the words out, glaring at the blonde.

"It's for you safety." Coriolanus reached out and cupped your cheek. "Everything I do is to make sure you're safe."

"It's time you came back home."

a/n: please reblog and comment if you enjoyed! divider creds: @muruffin

[theonewiththefanfics]

Seal It With a Kiss (one-shot)

Synopsys: After a looting session goes wrong, Astarion and Reader have to face the music and confront their feelings. Whatever they might be.

Pairing: Astarion x fem!Reader

Genre: angst, fluff

Warnings: talks of blood, injuries, swearing, mentions of abuse, but nothing explicit

Word count: 3234

A/N: I have not played Baldur's Gate 3 (I don't own a PS or a PC where to play it. all of this is based on the info gathered online and through Neil's own gameplay etc. Please be kind :) )

The light was too bright. And the ground was too hard. And the pillow too tough and lumpy. And why did Y/N feel so hot when it was literally snowing? And, actually, when had it started snowing? From bright blue skies, might she add?

Slowly, haziness dissipated from her eyes, and the world around came into sharp, painful focus. The light was too bright because half of her surroundings were on literal fire. The ground was too hard because she was half on rubble that once was a palace roof, and the tough, lumpy pillow was a rock her head had smashed against, while the snow was ashes flowing down, covering everything, including her, in a grey layer of soot, the sky peeking in from the hole above.

Although her sight was clearing, a sharp ringing pierced her ears. Or was it shouting?

A shadow crossed the sky, and above her, she could see their resident vampiric elf’s mouth moving.

“ – were you thinking?!” Finally, her ears started to clear as well. “You absolute imbecile! Why would you do that?!”

Y/N just groaned in response, as her memories came back in quick flashes. Everyone was arguing about where they should look for another magical artefact, Astarion shooting down what Gale had proposed, Wyll trying to make a sensible plan while Lae’Zel interrupted Shadowheart at any given moment. A deep rumble from the depths of the abandoned palace they were in silenced them all, Karlach throwing them a worried expression. And then the whole building exploded.

On instinct, Y/N had pushed Astarion as far away as she could before the ceiling came crashing down on top of her. It was nothing short of a miracle, she had managed to survive. Bruised, battered, no doubt with broken bones, but alive nonetheless. Maybe she’d have to thank a goddess or two. That was if Astarion didn’t rip her to pieces beforehand with how furious he looked.

Slowly Y/N tried to lift herself onto her forearms, and for all his admonishments, Astarion was quick to crouch down and help her, putting his arms under her pits and letting her rest against his chest.

“Oh dear,” she mumbled, noticing a large bannister lying across her leg. “That’s not good.”

“Not good?!” Astarion practically shrieked, his hands tightening around her ribs. “How hard did you hit your fucking head? This is so beyond not good I can’t even think of a level!”

Y/N winced at his tone. “Can you stop shouting, please? Gods, my head is splitting.”

“Oh, is it now? It would be quite the fucking miracle if it wasn’t, seeing as a whole fucking palace just toppled on you!”

“Quit being so dramatic and help get that thing off me! Where’re the rest?”

“Frankly, I don’t fucking care right now!” Astarion gently laid Y/N back down and went to the large boulder.

His arms strained as he lifted the piece of the pillar, her eyes widening at the display of strength.

She sometimes forgot how strong Astarion actually was, how easily he could snap her neck with just a twist of his hands if he so wished while Y/N allowed him to drink from her. But he was always gentle instead, with how he held her nape, fingers soothingly pressing into her scalp and knuckles brushing against her collarbones once he was done in a sweet gesture of thanks.

As quickly as she could, Y/N scooted from under the rubble, Astarion dropping the boulder back unceremoniously, and he was back by her side in a second, an arm wrapping around her waist, so she could lean on him.

“We have to find the others,” Y/N hissed as she stood. Her whole body screamed in pain, but they had to get out of the now-ruined palace, lest another explosion happen.

“They can find their own way out,” Astarion grunted, as he led them towards the exit.

“Astarion!”

“No!” He snapped his head to look at Y/N, and his scarlet eyes held such a desperate gaze in them, that she pinched her lips shut. “I will knock you out if I have to. I am not letting you get hurt again.”

“Astarion, they’re our friends,” Y/N’s voice was gentle. “We have to help them if we can.”

For a moment, Astarion truly looked like he might just throw her over his shoulder and march out of the place. But then he sighed, hanging his head in defeat before looking at her with pain distorting his features. “Why do you always have to be so good?”

Something tugged at her heart. That expression on his face, as if it physically put him in agony to lead them around the ruined palace in search of their companions, as he flinched and tightened his hold on her whenever something crackled, ready to throw his own body atop hers, in case something happened. It wasn’t selfishness, not one bit. Something deeper lay beneath Astarion’s reluctance.

It took them a while to find their party, but luckily no one was injured, and Y/N was the worst one off.  Shadowheart was by her side in an instant, giving her a healing potion.

“Should keep you set until we get back to camp.” She patted her shoulder. “I’ll heal you fully once we’re out of immediate danger.”

“Thank you.” Y/N smiled at the cleric.

She was just about to ask Astarion whether he was alright, but the vampire had already detached himself and was glaring at the ground, arms crossed over his chest ten feet away from her.

Y/N couldn’t deny – it stung. He’d been so worried just a few moments ago, yet now he couldn’t even look at her?

Her feet worked on their own accord, moving in his direction, but the way he turned his back to her, told her all she needed to know – he didn’t want to talk.

Pain shot through her heart, and it was definitely not because of the explosion, but Y/N respected his privacy, so she didn’t approach him any further, even though they always, always, walked next to one another.

“We should head back,” she spoke up, eyes remaining on Astarion’s taut back. “Maybe get some rest as well. We still have tomorrow anyway to search this place.”

When Astarion left the palace without even waiting to see if anyone was following, Y/N could do nothing but sigh and depart as well.

The walk to where they’d set up their camp was uncharacteristically quiet, especially from the pale elf’s side. He’d usually fill their travels with mindless talk and sarcastic quips, but this time around, he hung towards the back of their group and was as mum as a grave. He didn’t even comment on whatever Gale was saying, which made Y/N all the more uneasy.

She couldn’t wrap her mind around why he’d become so distant all of a sudden. What’d happened at the palace was nothing unusual. They risked their lives on the daily, saving others and themselves, so why in the world was Astarion so pissed about this, she had no clue.

Karlach leaned to the side, watching as the vampire entered his tent, closing the laces immediately. “Fangs is quite in a bad mood. Anything we should know about, soldier?”

Y/N huffed. “Probably broke a nail or something. In any case – nothing important enough to be acting the way he is.”

“Maybe I should go and – “

She put a palm on Karlach’s shoulder, stopping her, and giving her friend a wry smile. “I’ll talk to him. Better he’s angry at me and only me, not someone else as well. Apparently, I’ve pissed him off as is.”

“You sure?” the tiefling asked.

“Yeah.” Y/N nodded. “I think we need to have a talk anyway.”

With a “good luck” from Karlach, she sighed and steeled herself against whatever the vampire would throw her way. She unlaced the ties and lifted the flap to the side. With crossed arms, she entered Astarion’s tent, only to be greeted by his back as he stubbornly kept looking at a book in his hands, not even acknowledging her.

“Are you seriously pouting right now?” Y/N asked after a minute of silence.

“I’m not pouting, I’m brooding. There’s a difference.”

“Well, does brooding involve giving the silent treatment, or can we talk?”

Astarion threw a withering gaze over his shoulder. “What is there you want to talk about? Unless it’s an apology, I don’t want to hear it.”

Y/N let out an exasperated huff. “I’m sorry to disappoint, but I won’t apologise for saving your life.”

“By putting your own life in danger?!” Astarion spun around, throwing the tome he’d been holding onto his bedroll.

“Comes with the territory.” She shrugged. “You should know how it is.”

“Letting a whole building collapse on top of you is very different to knocking a blade out of the way!”

“Why are you so angry with me?” Y/N raised her voice, matching Astarion’s furious tone. “I saved your life!

“I didn’t ask for you to!”

She let out a disbelieving scoff. “Well, sucks to be you then! Because I was not just going to let you get crushed underneath all that rubble! Your life is just as important as everyone else’s!”

“Not to me! Not when it comes to you!”

Now that shut her up completely, her lips pinched in a thin line, eyes wide in shock. She and Astarion were friends, at least Y/N would've liked to think so. She most definitely had developed deeper feelings than that, but would only admit to it over her own dead body. The thought of Astarion’s rejection made her want to crumple into a small heap, but his reaction put thoughts in her head that maybe, just maybe, her feelings weren’t one-sided.

“What do you suppose I would do if you – if – if,” he stumbled on his words. “If I had to go on without you? If you were no longer with us… with me…”

“Astarion…”

“Do you understand how it felt to see you go down?” He sighed, hanging his head. “When I saw the roof caving in and then felt you push me away before you vanished beneath rubble and dust and ash… I’ve never been more terrified in all of my life, two hundred years of which were spent under the rule of an absolute sadist, where horrors awaited around every corner.”

His eyes bore nothing but pain and despair he’d felt in that moment. “I heard everyone else screaming - Shadowheart calling out, Wyll and Karlach making sure Gale and Lae’Zel were alright but nothing… not a single whisper from your voice. You tell me I’m pouting, but all I can see when I close my eyes is you… how you would look… dead. Your eyes closed forever, your blood spilling out of your body and I… I have to stand and watch as I am unable to save you.

“But I’m alright.” Y/N stepped up to him, taking one of his palms in hers, and squeezing it. “Astarion, I’m alive, and I’m fine.”

“But you almost weren’t!” he hissed, pulling her closer, bringing their clasped hands to rest against his chest. “And all I would have been left to do was wait for the dust to settle and dig out your broken body. You would have condemned me to eternity without you… I just almost lost the person I love... and that fear is something I never wish to experience again.”

Y/N’s breath hitched in her throat at such an honest confession. “I umm I didn’t know you felt that way about me.” Friendship was one thing, but love? That threw her completely off balance.

“Feel? Felt? What does it matter anymore? Clearly, it’s not like it’s reciprocated.” He scoffed, back the mask of bravado and not caring, but Y/N wasn’t having any of it.

“It matters to me.” Her brows furrowed. “It matters a great deal to me. Why do you think I did what I did, exactly? Because it’s fun? Because I enjoy blocks of buildings dropping down on me? Because it’s such an absolute delight to realise - if I don’t push you out of the way, you will be in direct line of fire, and I might lose you?”

Astarion’s mouth opened and closed. “I didn’t – I –“

“No!” Y/N pointed an accusatory finger at him. Now she was angry. “You don’t get to play the "I'm in love with you" card and be angry with me. Not if you dare tell me how I feel without asking first!”

“You...” He shook his head, a crease to his brow. “You never indicated you held anything more than… friendly affections towards me.”

Y/N rolled her eyes and scoffed. “Yes, because I let everyone in this party use me as their personal snack each night. I’d say that should’ve been your first clue.”

“I’d say you’re a full-course meal, my darling, but I understand the sentiment.” And though back was his usual air of sarcasm, a deep vulnerability could be seen shining in his crimson eyes as he weaved a gentle hand to wrap around the small of her waist, brushing underneath her sleep tunic to rest against her skin.

Cold met warm, and Y/N gasped as a shiver ran down her spine. His slender fingers dug into her back as he pulled Y/N closer, their breaths mingling, and if they only moved just a couple of centimetres, lips would touch.

“I just – I cannot stand and watch you throw your life away for someone like me. The thought of your brightness being extinguished because of it… I couldn’t bear it.”

Y/N tilted her head to the side. “Someone like who exactly? Someone who I’ve grown to look at as my dearest confidant? Someone who I know will always tell me the truth and be there if I cannot handle it? Or someone who so deftly has stolen my heart, he cannot even comprehend it’s been his the whole time? Besides, even if it wasn’t reciprocated...” She played with the string of his shirt, “you can’t tell me to be more careful, to not save you when you do the exact same thing.”

“How can I not?” Astarion’s voice was uncharacteristically soft, and for once, he seemed to want the moment to reflect what truly lay in his soul. “You make my heart beat on its own. If I had to give up walking in the sun for the rest of my life, I would. As long as it meant you were safe and happy. I’d even gladly go back to Cazador if you were on the line. Without a second to spare.”

“Don’t you dare fucking say that!"

“But it’s true.”

“Not if I can help it,” Y/N grumbled, tightening her hold on his shirt by his hips, pulling him closer like she had to make sure he wasn’t going anywhere. “He’s not ever going to get near you. I’ll level the whole of Baldur’s Gate if I have to.”

“And I am being honest when I say, if I had to choose between you being unhurt or me being imprisoned, being used as I was, I would always put you first.”

Y/N was on the verge of tears. “You listen to me you pompous blood-sucking elf – you will do no such thing. Whatever comes, we both will get through it. And Cazador will have his head ripped from his shoulders, but not before I gouge his eyes out, and do every single vile thing he did to you back onto him. I will skin him alive and then throw him in a tomb with nothing but cockroaches. Let him drink his own blood and see how he likes it.” She shuddered, taking in a deep breath. “Your life is not worth less than mine. Don’t you ever dare think that way.”

A watery chuckle escaped Astarion, and his eyes brimmed with silvery tears. “Can I kiss you?” He didn’t dare lift his gaze, focusing on their intertwined fingers, resting against where his heart no doubt would have been rattling a crazy rhythm if it still beat.

“If you want to.” Y/N’s reply was as quiet as his question had been, but there was no teasing in her tone.

His eyes flashed for a second, but she didn’t get a full grasp on what it was she saw. Maybe surprise. Maybe gratitude? She couldn’t tell really, all she knew was that the emotion caused a pang to ring to her very core. She’d kill Cazador with her own bloody hands.

“I want it.” He nodded. “More than anything.”

“More than my blood? That first night you almost drained me dry,” Y/N’s words, though true, held no malice, only gentle teasing.

“And how do you know that first time I wasn’t trying to wake up the sleeping princess with a magical true love’s kiss? The feeding just ended up being a bonus.” He brushed her nose with his, and couldn’t help the way his own lips turned up as Y/N smiled.

“Well, this sleeping princess would’ve punched you in the nose, had you awoken her for such silly things. Besides, you did miss my lips.”

Astarion chuckled, relishing the way her body pressed against his. “But I am allowed to awaken you to drink from you?”

“Well...” She nudged his nose with hers now. “Seeing as you become absolutely unbearable when hungry, I think for my own peace and everyone else’s, that does count as a vital reason to rouse me."

Gentle hands cupped her cheeks. “Allow me to demonstrate then how vital a kiss can be to one’s survival.”

And then their lips met.

She’d never admit it out loud, for his ego would surely grow larger than it already was, but it did feel like a magical kiss of life. Her whole body sang as his fingers slid against the nape of her neck, pulling her closer, almost like Astarion was afraid she’d pull back, but she could never. Not when he slipped his tongue past her lips, and her knees almost crumbled.

Y/N had to tighten her hold on his waist to not completely lose it, and she could feel the smirk growing on the vampire’s face, as he realised just how incapacitated his kiss had made her. He nipped at the bottom of her lip and relished in the small whimper he got to devour.

After what felt like ages, they pulled back, panting, but not going too far as Astarion rested his forehead against hers.

Y/N smiled. “True love’s kiss you say?”

“It feels like it,” he mumbled, allowing himself to indulge in the tender touch of her fingers skimming up and down his back. “Though I don’t know much about… love… I’d like to experience it with you. All of it. The good and the bad that might come with it.”

“I’ll be here,” Y/N promised. “As long as you want me to, I’m not going anywhere.”

“And if I ask for forever?”

She let out an over-exaggerated, dramatic sigh. “Forever’s quite a long time, don’t you think?”

“Not long enough,” Astarion replied, a smile tugging up his lips. “It’d never be long enough with you.”

Y/N quirked a brow. “Is that a challenge?”

He chuckled at that. “I’d say it’s more of a promise, if anything.”

“Seal it with a kiss?”

“Deal, my love.”

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[undiscovered-horizon]

"Everywhere is good but home is..." - Mihawk x Reader

@thetempleofthemasaigoddess wondered why Mihawk doesn't quite get along with his mother-in-law and who am I to keep such secrets to myself?

SUMMARY: Mihawk is not exactly fond of his in-laws. Nevertheless, he compliantly tags along whenever you pay your parents a visit. If it makes you happy, he's willing to bite his tongue. For a day, at least.

WORDCOUNT: ~ 2.6k

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Imagine, if you will, an angry boar. A large, stout boar with birse as dark as the night sky. As boars do, it will gore with its tusks to let out the frustration and get rid of whatever it was that made the animal seethe. Now, if you take away its tusks, what can it do? Angrily dig for truffles? 

Or maybe stand beside you, a scowl on his face and a begrudging “I am fine” every time you ask about the bitter expression?

Mihawk doesn’t like visiting your parents. It’s the sickeningly sweet familial atmosphere that suffocates him. Don’t misunderstand - he’s fond of the thought of having a family with you but the aura of your childhood home is a little too… overwhelming for him. A little too picture-perfect. But being the man he is, Mihawk has never outright talked about his dislike because he’s aware of how much that would hurt you. Still, you know your husband a little too well to disregard his sighs and frowns. This piece of secret knowledge always makes you love him more - he’s willing to suffer for a day or two just to make you happy. If it’s not love, what else could it be?

The farmhouse looks different than it did last year when you visited: the roof tiles have been changed, the outside of the building has been repainted and even some of the fence surrounding the land is new. Clearly, your parents have been busy with their retirement.

Despite the irate expression on his face, Mihawk silently overtakes you and opens the shabby wicket gate to let you enter first. He gives you a questioning look when you suddenly stop.

“It’s going to be fine, Mihawk,” you reassure him.

“So you’ve been saying, darling.”

Comforting warmth spreads inside his chest as you smile at him and kiss his cheek. He turns his head, hoping to catch your lips but you’re already on your way to the older man raking leaves in the distance. Mihawk clenches his jaw and lets out an exasperated sigh. With a loud bang, he closes the gate behind him. He follows you in slow steps, naively putting off the fateful moment of meeting your family.

Walking down the path leading to the farmhouse and the fields behind it, Mihawk looks around the desolate landscape. It’s quaint, he thinks to himself. Tall trees sway on the chilly, autumn wind. Right above their peaks, although far away, are mountains with their tops covered in snow. Uncut grass brushes against his clothes. A flock of cranes flies high in the sky, disappearing and reappearing as they fly through grey clouds. Their key is directed south, towards warmth that will shield them from winter snow. The area is a bit too colourful and bright for his liking but with a nice “please” from you, Mihawk could see himself settling down in a place like this.

Dracule just comes into earshot and has the displeasure of hearing your father yelling:

“Pumpkin!” The older man’s voice is filled with excitement. He lets go of the rake, letting it fall on the ground. Despite his age and clear exhaustion from the work, he wraps his arms around you and hugs you almost to death. “Honey, come out!” he shouts towards the farmhouse. “It’s Pumpkin!”

Mihawk almost can’t stop himself from rolling his eyes. You’re a grown woman, married at that, and they still call you by a nickname they had come up with while you were still in diapers. ‘When I asked where children came from, they told me that they found me between pumpkins in their field,’ you once explained to him.

The door to the building flies open. Soon enough, your mother is running to you. Her greying hair is braided into a plait. She’s wearing an apron with traditional patterns hand-stitched into it. Half of the motif had been done by a skilled hand, stitched with precision and perfection. The other part, however, is a lot more crooked and amateurish, probably done by a child’s hand. Your hand.

Tears glisten in your mother's eyes. Despite her older age, there’s vigour and youth inside those irises - a certain love for life that you’ve taken after her. She quickly wipes her hands on the apron and hugs you.

“Oh, Pumpkin!” A stray tear leaves her eye. “I haven’t seen you in ages! You could have said you’re visiting.”

“You’ve always loved surprises, mum.”

She lets go of you and redirects her attention to Mihawk. Her face lights up as though he’s her own son, beaming with love and pride. To his absolute horror, your mother puts her hands on the sides of his face. He almost pulls away to avoid the unwanted affections.

“Sweetie, you look handsome as ever!” she exclaims. Her expression falls as she looks him up and down. “But you’re a bit thin, aren’t you? And that open shirt, tsk. Winter is coming, sweetheart, you’ll catch pneumonia if you don’t cover up.”

“Delighted to see you again, ma’am,” Mihawk lies through his teeth. To some degree, you’re impressed with how honest he sounds.

"Oh, sweetheart, I told you to just call me mum!” She laughs. “We're family now."

You can see the relief in Mihawk’s eyes as your mother lets go of him. Some part of you wants to burst with laughter as you recall countless moments when you’re the one cradling his face and Dracule is more than overjoyed with the tender touch. It feels like there’s something beyond special about you, that he welcomes such intimate things. Although, truth be told, when it’s your hands on his face, you usually lean in to kiss him and that’s definitely not something he wants to think about while standing in front of your mother.

“He’s a grown man, honey.” Your father nags at his wife. He waves his hand in a dismissing manner. “Leave him be.” Mihawk’s terror returns when a heavy hand reaches for his shoulder. “Come, son, you’ll chop some wood for the night. I’m too old for this. The last time I tried chopping firewood, I got sciatica.”

“Pleased to help,” Dracule drones his words. He gives you a glance like a silent plead ‘Look what I do for you’. Then, he follows your father further into the garden.

You feel your mother put her arm around your shoulder. “Boys are off to have fun and we have a dinner to make.”

Something inside you stirs with excitement - cooking and baking used to be your bonding activities with your mum. Since you’ve married Mihawk, you’re not allowed to do any housework. Everything is taken care of by servants. You find that you’ve grown to miss the rhythm of mundane life, although it would be a lie if you said that you dislike the life you have with Mihawk. It’s just… different.

The sound of pots, pans and knives hitting the cutting boards is like a symphony to your ears. An aria to your childhood. If you closed your eyes, you could almost see the world as it used to be, your eyes right below the level of the countertops, always standing on a stool to help your mother.

But the thoughts of your younger years dissipate as you stare out of the kitchen window. You have the perfect view of your husband chopping firewood with your father raking leaves in the back. Mihawk’s skin glistens in the afternoon, autumn sun. There’s not a bead of sweat on his torso. He appears completely relaxed as he swings the axe with one hand. Some logs are already cracked or particularly dry and those he rips apart with his bare hands. Those same hands that tear pieces of wood into matches have caressed your skin with almost fearful softness; the arms that bring destruction have tirelessly shielded you from the dangers of the world. 

Your dad looks over his shoulder at the pile of firewood with a nod of awe. If Mihawk keeps up his tempo, he’ll prepare enough fuel for the next week.

“You remind me of your dad and me when we were younger.” Your mother’s face shakes you awake from your thoughts. Suddenly remembering that you were supposed to be helping her, you look down at the awfully chopped carrots. At least you didn’t cut off your finger. “Always stealing glances as though we weren’t already married.”

A sigh of yearning leaves your lips. What did you do in your past life to deserve a man like him?

“Dad still looks at you in an uncomfortably intense way,” you answer, a smile on your lips.

Your mother’s laughter brightens up the small, crowded kitchen. It’s not hard to correctly guess what your dad saw in her that made him want to spend his life with that woman. “He does the same when you’re not looking,” she says while vaguely pointing at Mihawk.

Her words make you blush. A deep shade of red covers your cheeks, making your whole face hot to the touch. “What do you mean?”

She looks at you with sympathy. “I saw it the day you introduced him to us. And each time you come over, he seems to be a little worse in his affliction, staring at you like you’re the one who hung stars in the sky. It made your grandma remind her of grandad so much, that she cried at your wedding.”

Listening to her, your longing gaze returns to Mihawk who appears oblivious to your undivided interest in him. “Mum, does it ever get boring?” you ask without looking away. “The sense of calm when you’re around him. Like everything could be ruined but it’s fine because he’s there.”

“It’s the only thing in the world that never gets tiring.” A flustered, juvenile smile decorates her face. Even with wrinkles and greying hair, she looks barely older than you at the moment, reliving the flame of love inside her that has never dwindled. “Now, let’s finish with the sentiments and stuff the duck, eh?”

Mihawk is reaching for another log when something makes him momentarily freeze. There, in front of the stump he’s been chopping wood on, sits a dog. It’s clearly a mutt, each feature taken from a different breed. The fur is an amalgamation of markings in different colours: orange, grey, white and black. As the dog notices Mihawk’s interest, it gets up, restlessly stomping in place or rather hopping as the pet is missing one of its hind legs.

“Gulliver,” Dracule recalls the name of the mutt you’ve told him so much about. Your first and only friend growing up in the countryside.

The name is taken as an invite and so the dog places a drool-covered, chewed-out ball next to the piece of firewood. The pet sits again, tail wagging as fast as it can.

For a moment, Mihawk is torn. He wants the dog to leave him be but that would mean he has to put his hand on the slimy toy. Then again, the pet is sure to continue disturbing him now that he has acknowledged its existence.

Cringing at the wet and warm sensation of the ball, Dracule picks it up, only furthering Gulliver’s excitement.

"This means nothing," he drones his words and throws the toy so far it almost disappears from sight. The dog, overjoyed, runs after the ball. 

Considering that your dad’s throw has gotten weaker with age, Mihawk might have dug his own grave with the distance he made the ball fly. Gulliver will probably want another run. Or ten.

For a moment, Mihawk goes back to the fantasy of settling down with you in a mountainous wonderland. Maybe you could have a dog too? Not a mutt but a hunting hound? They look very noble.

But he shakes those thoughts away and continues chopping wood.

The dinner went well. Homemade food, family you haven’t seen in a year, the cosy and sentimental atmosphere of your childhood home… And Mihawk didn’t look as miserable as he probably felt. Although you’re enjoying this little family reunion, you seize the opportunity for solitude when it arises:

Your parents go to the kitchen to put away the dirty dishes, plate the dessert and brew some tea. Tugging on Mihawk’s arm, you pull him outside the house.

The old flooring of the porch creaks under your weight. A bright, melodic tune is carried by the wind as it brushes against the chimes hanging under the roof. The sun has recently set and the sky is still in a lovely, indigo shade. Birds croak in the distance, announcing nightfall.

His warm hand rests on your lower back. The touch makes you momentarily take a deep, relaxing breath. Your thoughts become both orderly and fuzzy as though Mihawk’s presence turned all of your wandering, useless ideas into static you can easily ignore. How can a person have so much control over you? 

Mihawk is towering over you. He tilts his head downwards to look at you. Something about his looming aura makes you feel not only protected but also well-cared-for, as though you could give yourself up to him completely and you’d still live like a queen in a castle.

“If you keep frowning, your face will stay like that,” you say to him.

Mihawk’s expression relaxes at the mere mention of his visibly bitter mood. Or maybe it softens because he’s looking at you. “I was under the impression that you’re rather fond of my face.”

“And you’d be correct. But I do have to say that seeing you tear wood apart was much better.”

You lean closer to him as you put your arms around his neck. He welcomes the gesture, allowing his hands to travel an inch or two downwards, a little too low for when one is in the vicinity of others. Especially someone’s parents.

“So my wife likes to see me do manual labour,” he states, his warm breath brushing against your cold cheeks. There’s no surprise in his voice and there shouldn’t be. He’s noticed the way you look at him when he wields a sword and Mihawk would be an awful liar if he said he doesn’t enjoy those glances.

“I like seeing you, full stop. Chopping wood is just a nice variation to the scenario. Strong arms and all that.”

The said arms pull you by your hips into a kiss. Although he’s spent only a day in this part of the region, he already smells like fresh mountain air and pine needles. Mihawk groans, feeling the curves of your body against his. He will never get enough of this. Enough of you.

“Tea is served!”

Your mother’s exclamation makes you pull away from Mihawk. He instinctively chases after your lips before letting out an annoyed sigh. A chuckle rumbles in your chest. Dracule rolls his eyes but lets you thread your fingers with his and pull him back inside the farmhouse. There, you interrupt an interesting conversation:

“Darling, when’s the cake tasting again?” your father asks while flipping through the calendar, a pencil in his hand.

“On the 25th, honey,” she answers. The dining room is immediately filled with the aroma of bergamot as your mother pours the tea. “At 6 in the afternoon.”

“Cake tasting?” you repeat in confusion. “What’s going on?”

“Our golden wedding, of course!” the older woman beams with joy. “We’ve yet to send out the invitations, though, so don’t tell anyone. Especially your aunt. Gods know she runs her mouth like it’s a marathon.”

As though you’re thinking the same thing, Mihawk and you glance at each other. The miserable, irate expression in his eyes elicits a burst of bright laughter from you. He just can’t catch a break, can he?

[ellieswrldd]

softly .

pairing: jackson!ellie williams x f!reader

summary: ellie comes home late and wants to make it up to you.

content warnings: SMUT 18+ MDNI, oral (r!receiving), fingering (r!receiving), established relationship, not proofread!!! (this is so rushed)

a/n: IM BACK. sorry that took forever i was fighting demons...anyways shout out to @luvrgrl07 who said we need more pussy eating fics bc this is where it brought me

A heavy snow was falling over Jackson. You sat inside your small home, a strong fire waving in the brick fireplace and your dinner on the kitchen table. It was growing cold, sitting out for over half an hour now as you waited for Ellie to return home. She was on patrol like always, though she was running far later than expected. 

It wasn’t unusual that Ellie was late, but the snowstorm growing outside your windows gave you a reason to worry. Hopefully, she was just cooped up in one of the lookouts rather than fighting off infected in the cold. Maybe she was already on her way to your door.

You looked at the food set on the table and sighed softly. It was a nice dinner, one you had spent a lot of time on. Ellie claimed that she would try her best to be home early to spend the night with you since she wasn’t able to do so very often. 

You wiped your hands on your apron and went to glance out the window. All of the Jackson residents were indoors now except for the few who manned the gate, the snowy streets were empty. 

Later, as you added more wood to the fire, you heard the front door open. Ellie kicked off her boots and set her bag on the floor. When you saw her, a small smile tugged at your lips. Ellie’s cheeks were reddened by the cold, her hair pinned into a messy bun, and snow dusting her clothes. 

“I’m sorry I’m late,” She said quietly, her eyes darting down to the wood floor. You walk to her, a hand reaching out to touch her cold cheek. 

“It’s alright,” You clear your throat and glance at the dinner table. “Why don’t you go change, and I’ll reheat your food? Yeah?” It was clear that Ellie was tired and while you previously were a bit annoyed that she’d broken her promise, it all melted away as you observed the girl in front of you. Leaning in, you gave her a gentle kiss. Ellie cracked a small smile and pulled away to go to the bedroom. 

The pan crackled softly as you placed it on the stove. You warmed the food slowly, not wanting to burn any of it in the process. Her arms slid around your waist gently, her chin resting on your shoulder as you cooked. 

“Missed you,” Ellie mumbled, her breath tickling your neck. She was wearing one of her worn hoodies and a different pair of jeans. 

“You had me worried, coming home so late.” You sighed and poked at the food on the pan with a spatula. Ellie’s hands squeezed your hips and she kissed your jaw. 

“I know, I really wanted to be home earlier. I’m sorry, baby.” Her thumbs drew small circles on your hips and you smiled. 

“M’not sure I can ever forgive you for this,” You hummed, teasing her. Ellie’s lips traveled from your jaw down to your neck, slowly kissing and nipping at the sensitive skin. She moved in a repeating pattern, a kiss, a tiny bite, then she would roll her tongue over the blooming mark. 

“So let me make it up to you,” Ellie laughed softly against your neck, her hands moving up your torso. “I’ll make it worth your time…” She said and cupped your breasts over your apron. 

You took a deep breath. “What about dinner? Aren’t you hungry?” One of Ellie’s hands left your body and reached out to turn the stove off. 

“Dinner can wait. Besides, I’m hungry for something else.” You set down your spatula on the counter and giggled. 

“Okay then,” You turned to face Ellie and rested your arms on her shoulders. She smiled at you, her eyes trailing down your face until they landed on your lips. Sweetly, Ellie met your lips with her own, only pulling away to breathe now and then. The kiss alone would’ve been enough to make you forget everything, but Ellie seemed to crave more. 

Her lips followed yours like magnets and her hands tugged at the knot of your apron until it came undone. Ellie pulled the apron over your head and tossed it to the floor. She pushed you back slightly, just far enough for you to bump against the kitchen table. 

Almost instinctively, Ellie helped you onto the table, grabbing your hips and lifting you to sit. She pulled away from your lips to nip at your neck instead and you let out a soft laugh. 

“What’s so funny?” Ellie asked, her face still buried in the crook of your neck. 

You shook your head but promptly responded when she gave your thigh a playful slap. “This wasn’t the dinner I had planned–” You let out a soft sigh when you felt her tongue run along your skin in one long stripe. 

“Well,” Ellie’s slender fingers made their way to the button of your jeans. “I know that you worked hard to cook dinner for us,” She unbuttoned your pants. “And I know you were worried about me,” Ellie tugged the zipper down. “Jus’ wanna make it up to you, even if it’s not what you had in mind.” Her hand slipped into your pants and your breath hitched. 

You shuddered as her finger brushed against your clothed clit. As if she enjoyed seeing you frustrated, Ellie continued to gently rub your cunt through your panties. You moaned quietly, holding a hand up to your mouth to muffle your sounds.

“Lay back,” Ellie muttered, taking her hand out of your pants. You listen and lay back on the table, spreading your legs open further. Ellie grinned and tugged your pants off before speaking again. “Don’t cover your mouth like that, I wanna hear you.” She sunk to her knees before the table and moved to kneel between your legs. “M’not kidding, I’ll stop if you do that,” You caught a glimpse of a smug little smirk on her face. Your mouth opened to say something snarky in response but you were promptly cut off when her mouth suddenly closed over your clit, your panties still in between you and her mouth. The reaction your body has to her touch is always immediate, your hands find their way to her messy auburn hair, your thighs close around her head, and your back arches off the table. 

Through a series of breathy moans and gasps, you begged her to take your panties off, to go all the way and not tease you anymore. She chuckled softly at your begging and her laughter seemed to vibrate against your core. Her fingers hooked on the band of your underwear and she tugged them off quickly, barely giving you a moment to realize that she’d pulled away. 

“Missed this all day,” Ellie groaned as her eyes fall on your pussy. She ran her thumb up and down your slit, spreading your wetness along your folds. Her eyes were trained on you as she began to circle your clit and added more pressure. Your moans grew louder, but you yearned for more. 

“M-More, please,” You gasped and whined. Ellie placed a sweet kiss on your inner thigh and pushed a finger inside your needy cunt. After dating for so long, you would think that your body would be used to Ellie’s touch and how she felt inside of you, but it felt electric every time.  

“Doin’ so good,” She praised you and slid a second finger into you. It took every ounce of her self-restraint to stop herself from completely devouring you at that moment, but she wanted to take her time with you. 

Ellie curled her fingers inside of you, stimulating that sensitive spot deep inside you that made your legs shake with pleasure. Ellie could tell you were close to your orgasm by the way your cries grew louder and how you tugged at her hair desperately. 

She leaned in and ran her tongue along your cunt, moaning as she tasted you. Ellie lapped at your pussy like she was starving, giving special attention to your clit while she continued to finger you. That self-restraint she’d been holding onto had suddenly been thrown out the window as soon as she tasted you. She couldn’t be slow with you, she wanted you to come all over her tongue. 

“Ellie–” You moaned deeply as you felt your climax quickly approaching. 

“I know, I know,” She cooed. Her movements sped up slightly and it was just enough to push you over the edge. With her name on your lips, you let out a long moan and fell back against the table. 

Your orgasm left you somewhat senseless. Your body was tired and spent, but you felt a remaining buzz flowing throughout you. Ellie peppered your inner thighs with small kisses before she finally pulled away and stood up. She licked her fingers clean and looked down at you with a smile. You looked so perfect all splayed out on the kitchen table, Ellie was certain that no meal would ever top this. 

[sfehvn]

new religion

Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7

Description: AU- Astarion is enamored by you, and while he fights it at first, he may have just found his new religion. A/N: Just a tad bit of sweet smut to be honest. This was my listen while I wrote if you were curious. Enjoy! xx Rating: M (18+ minors DNI) Word count: 2,069 Characters: soft!ascended!Astarion x fem!au!Tav

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  From the moment Astarion had seen you, he knew he had to have you. Walking through the animated city of Baldur’s Gate, your radiant smile was the first thing that had caught his eye. Flowing hair kissed your shoulders adorned with freshly plucked daisies. Your aroma was the most intoxicating scent that had graced his nose in all of his years. Your rose-tinted cheeks teased with the blood flowing beneath your flawless skin. Your eyes sparkled with wonder, reflecting the rays of the sun above. He had never been a believer in the love at first sight nonsense, yet there you were. If his undead heart could beat, he was sure it would be skipping against his ribcage. It was the only time the vampire had found himself utterly speechless. 

  For months, he watched from afar, finding excuses to go into town. Not that he had to excuse anything to anyone, but the newfound feelings were frightening, to say the least. Alas, day after day Astarion went out, whether for a drink or an unnecessary shop trip, and he would wait to get even the slightest glimpse at you. He was aware that this obsession was snowballing out of his hands as he fell harder and deeper. Hells, he had never even spoken to you. Yet he knew nearly everything there was to know. 

  He knew every other day you made your way to the apothecary to pick up medicines for your sick father, whom you cared for. He knew once every fifth day, you picnicked in the graveyard next to your mother’s grave. He knew your favorite color was yellow because it reminded you of the summers you spent with your mother before her untimely passing. You had six siblings: an older brother and five young sisters. 

  Astarion had also realized that you had a death wish, apparently. You were constantly staying out past sundown, running errands or helping neighbors. Did you even comprehend the dangers? He would often think to himself. Of course he had to follow you home to ensure you made it inside safely. You were becoming a liability to him, and quite frankly, he was terrified of how you made him feel. Just when he had decided to end this one-sided arrangement, there you were. Sat on the side of the road with tears pooling rivers down your cheeks, his body felt out of his control as he approached you.

  He stood in front of you, his words caught in his throat. You stared at him with those big doe-eyes, and his knees felt like jelly. “Are you alright?” He finally managed out. Gods, what am I doing? I should just sink my fangs into her and be done with it. It’s just bloodlust. This was something he had tried to convince himself of many times already- a lie.

  “Oh, yes.” Voice sweet and smooth, like the finest honey gold could buy. “Just this silly book.” You giggled, holding up the novel you had previously been engrossed in before Astarion had found you.

  “Right. Good.” He clears his throat in an attempt to regain his composure and still his spinning mind. “I’ll just be on my way then.” You nod, gifting that sweet smile to him. Astarion felt his legs would give out beneath him if he stayed longer, but he didn’t move an inch.

  The man intrigued you, ruby red eyes and skin pale as the snow that fell during winter. He was gorgeous. An aura of mystery surrounded him, and you were keen to discover those mysteries. “Say, you live in that big fancy manor?” You question, breaking the awkward silence that had befallen you two.

  “I do. Why?” Skepticism was palpable in his tone. 

  You disregarded his tone, and he believed it to be your naive nature. “You have the most exquisite daffodils blooming alongside your walls. I didn’t want to pick them without asking.” Your smile is sheepish, innocent. Astarion doesn’t speak, his face unreadable. “I-I enjoy putting bouquets together. I don’t mean to-” He already knew this, obviously.

  “They are yours.” Astarion can’t contain the smile that tugs the sides of his lips.

  As you two stroll to the location of said flowers, Astarion finds himself loosening up in your presence. He watches you intently, the way you move your hair from your face as you carefully pluck a few from the group. He urges you to take more.

  “Are you sure? I don’t want to be a bother. These are plenty.” You assure. In response, he crouches down next to you to help pluck the remaining flowers.

   After walking you home, Astarion ordered flowers to be planted around the grounds. With the help of just a little magic, within weeks, roses, peonies, sunflowers, and carnations bloomed healthily. You would come with a fresh serving of food, a bouquet as thanks, and collect the flowers. As naive as you were, you could recognize what Astarion was doing. The daffodils were a one-off in that area, but now flowers surrounded the entirety of his property. The rate at which they grew, too; you were aware some effort went into getting them to blossom so hastily. At every mention of a new flower, the next time you came, they were miraculously in bloom.

  This compromise had been in full swing for months when you finally questioned him about it. Astarion was on his knees as he snipped red roses from the bush, insistent on doing it himself so you didn’t prick yourself on a thorn. “Why are you doing this?” You question, a wicker basket that was already overflowing held firmly in your hands. 

  “I told you, you’ve nabbed yourself on these blasted thorns one too many times.” His reply came without a look in your direction as he continued to snip the stems.

  “That’s not what I meant.” A soft chuckle emanates from behind closed lips. He looks up at you in realization, his hands coming to a halt. Your breath catches in your throat as he stares at you wordlessly, longingly. Standing slowly, he takes a step closer to you. He drops the roses into your basket before cupping your cheeks, closing the distance between your faces. The kiss is electric. You drop the basket to your feet, arms snaking around his neck while he presses your body tightly to his, clinging to you like a prayer. His lips were a colder temperature than you expected, but they were soft and hungry. 

  That’s how Astarion ended up with you in his bed. As he eagerly ripped the pale blue dress from your body, you took note of the bouquets around his bed chamber. Every single one you had gifted to him was on display and in perfect condition. Your heart flits in your chest, eyes closing in ecstasy as wet kisses trail up the inside of your thighs. A soft moan is elicited from you as his mouth reaches your warmth, his tongue flicking teasingly along your slit. Your fingers thread into his stark white hair, instinctually tugging with every contact against your clit. Colors explode behind your eyelids from the euphoric excitement.

  He pulled away briefly, with his starving mouth against your thigh, he spoke muffled words, “I don’t think you realize how long I’ve been waiting to hear that, darling.” Your breathing quickens as you look down at him between your thighs with hooded, lustful eyes. His mouth returns to your clit and he suckles lightly, two fingers dipping into your dripping center. The sensation brings your back into an arch, aching to feel him deeper inside of you.

  The swirling motion of his tongue brings you close to the edge, your legs shaking mercilessly. Astarion’s free hand moves between his torso and your legs, holding them steady as he continues his work on your body. Just as you are about to cum, he places a final kiss on your mound before his eyes meet yours. “You’re much naughtier than I thought.” He tsked, crooning his neck at you before moving up your body.

  Your lips meet passionately, his tongue slipping effortlessly into your mouth to meet your own. He creates a gap between you as one hand holds him up, quickly removing his trousers and undergarments with his other hand. He pressed his bulge down onto your warmth, hitting your sweet spot as he grinds against you. “Do you taste how lovely you are?” He murmurs, plunging his tongue further into your mouth. You can only let out a delighted moan in response.

  Once he breaks the kiss, you press your slippery core harder against his erection. “Please fuck me.” You whimper lustfully, “Please-” Your words are cut short by the sensation of him rubbing the head of his cock against your clit, causing a delicate moan to leave your throat.

  “Fuck. You’re soaked, my darling.” He coos. As much as Astarion wanted to continue to play with your body, he needed to be buried in you as quickly as he possibly could. He slides the head of his member from your clit, pushing slowly into your welcoming embrace. He savors every sensation as he enters you. There is a momentary flicker of pain on your face as you adjust to his size, and he falters for a moment.

  “Have you done this before?” He asks quietly, pressing his forehead to yours, avoiding your throat to save himself from temptation. He cursed himself inwardly for even asking; he shouldn’t care. This woman brought a side out of him he had never met before- a softer side. The scariest part is he actually, well, liked it.

  You wavered for a second before shaking your head, confirming that he was indeed the first man to have ever been in such a position with you. The thought makes him feel feral. Such a sweet flower trusting someone like him to take your virtue; he would never admit it to anyone, but honor and pride swelled in his chest. He nodded in acknowledgment, “We’ll go slow, pet.” He reassures, hips rocking delicately into yours as he fills you with as much of him as he can manage without causing you discomfort. He lays a gentle kiss on your forehead as your pain turns into pleasure, still-shaking legs wrapping to engulf his hips.

  “A-Astarion.” His name sounded like a hymn gracing his ears from your mouth, and he wanted to devour you right there and then. It took everything in him not to plow you into the bed. His hand rests on the bedframe as he finds a comfortable rhythm, eyes never leaving your face. He wanted to soak up every reaction to his touch.

  “You drive me crazy, pet.” He grunts as his pace quickens, gripping the mahogany wood tighter at the magnetic pleasure buzzing through his body. He uses his free hand to effortlessly move you further up into a slightly seated position as his thumb once again finds your clit to draw purposeful eights over it. 

  “I-I’m- Oh my gods-” The moan is loud, music to his ears as your walls tighten around his cock.

  “That’s right. Be a good girl and cum for me.” It’s a stern demand, all to mask just how close Astarion was himself. His words push you over the edge, your body clinging to his for support as the euphoria rushes over you. Every hair on your body standing on end, you throw your head back and scream Astarion’s name thrillfully. 

  With you coming undone, he allows himself to reach fruition, his seed filling you to the brim. His hand on the frame loosens, and his head hangs, face full of gratification. He looks down at you, pulling his now-soft member from you, a satisfied sigh leaving your lips as you stretch contently, much like a cat. Your eyes were droopy, a giddy smirk on your face as you fought to keep them open. Astarion chuckles, pressing another kiss to your lips. “You can sleep, my darling. I’ll wake you in a little.”

  Astarion swore he felt the tiniest tinge of warmth in his heart at the sight of you so comfortable cuddled into his side as you dozed off. This could be a welcome change. Maybe his undead life just needed his very own light, his own sun. All he knew was that he was done fighting it. One weakness couldn’t hurt.

[just-some-random-blogger]

hello!! i loved your cregan x martell!reader work sm 😭😭 could you plz bless us with another one? i'm so curious about this pairing, was their marriage arranged or a love match? does little rickon exist in this au? what abt the war?

i'd be delighted to read more about them, if you're willing to write, of course :) thank you in advance!! i adore your writing <3

Heat

You take your husband to Dorne for your sister's wedding. He fairs horribly in the heat.

Cregan Stark x Martell!Reader | 600< | cw: fem!reader, wife!reader, dramatic!cregan, fluff, typos, etc.

A/N: HI NONNIE! this was my firs req since i closed em so YAY US (and it took me so long to write it lmao). it's just a lil blurb but i hope you like it! also this is the fic in question.

Tagging: @sloanexx

The Lord of Winterfell was leading the travelling party. We were deep in Dorne; Sunspear was already within view. And although the fearsome wolf of the North was not one you could easily defeat, he was steadily losing to the dessert sun.

"Cregan," I call out from my horse beside him, "you will get sun burnt if you keep your back bare."

The Warden of the North had one by one removed the clothes off his back. His face, chest, and back was flush and irritated in more ways than one as he looked at me, "and if I put a shirt on," his brows furrow, "I will faint because of the heat."

With a groan, I remove the silk shawl off my shoulders and I steer my horse closer to his. I place the the fabric on his burning flesh, immediately making him whimper. He shrug it off, "I'm sweaty."

"Cregan," I glare and grab my shawl before it drops, "you're overheating."

He rides faster.

"Cregan," I follow, "come here."

He gallops off as quickly as possible, running straight towards the gates of Sunspear. I am taken aback by his sudden fleeing. I look over to the rest of the party, all of which were Northerners equally melting in the heat, and decide to gallop into Sunspear as well for their sake.

Upon my arrival, I was greeted by many people, all of which expressed their delight to see me again. I greet them with glee as I dismount. I instruct the servants to attend to the men and give them something to cool off with.

"Sister!"

"Sister," I call back with a smile.

My younger sister, Calliope, embraces me and kisses my cheeks. I return her affection and brush her hair behind her ear, "you have grown more radiant since last I saw you, my love. Your groom is blessed to have you."

She giggles, "as is yours" she looks me up and down, "is this a glow of an expecting mother?"

"If it be the will of the gods," I smile and link arms with her, "Lord Stark has been most ardent in his duties."

We share a laugh.

Calliope leans in and raises a brow, "you should have brought a bit of snow with you, sister. I think your wolf has jumped into garden fountain."

"He what?"

My sister and I run off to the gardens, and sure enough, there laid the hulking man, body barely even submerged into the water.

"Cregan!" I snap, releasing my sister to fish out my husband, "you giant oaf!"

The man slowly sits up. He wipes water away from his face and smiles, "hello, beautiful wife."

"Get out of the fountain."

He spits out water.

"There are many pools in Sunspear where you actually fit," I reach a hand out.

He crawls over and takes my hand, only to pull me closer and kiss me. His dripping hand comes to my cheek. I whimper. He pulls away and smiles, "will you be joining me?"

I press my lips into a line, "get out of the pool, Stark."

The water sloshes as he gets on his knees and climbs out, "yes, Stark."

Water spills and drips onto the floor as Cregan stands next to me. My sister, Calliope, giggles from behind me. The man looks at her as she speaks, "it might do you well to know the nights at Dorne are cooler, my lord."

I make a face and pull my skirt away when it begins to absorb the pooling fountain water. Cregan notices this and grabs me by the waist, pulling me tightly against him.

"Cregan!"

He smirks and kisses my neck. I glare at him and he smirks at my sister, "I should hope so. My lady keeps me warm at night."

[alt-vera]

— broke record ⁀➷

joel miller has been gone on a supply run for the past few days. turns out there’s a few things he hadn’t been able to get out of his mind while he’s been gone.

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♡ | joel miller | 1.4k | ❛ broke record - eric church ❜

warnings: smut. dirty thoughts. mentions of masturbation. lowkey (highkey) needy joel. manhandling. fingering. thigh riding. edging. oral (f!recieving). unprotected piv. dom!joel. unestablished age gap. unestablished relationship. mdni.

❝ i ain’t never had nothing stuck in my head like this melody i keep’a hearing ❞

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IT WAS SUPPOSED TO BE A ONE TIME THING.

　Joel Miller was committed to keeping this one night stand with you exactly what it was supposed to be: a one night stand.

　But, good lord, he couldn’t help himself. Couldn’t get the way you whispered his name out of his mind, as if he parted the sea for you. As if he was a bottle of liquor you had found in the back of the cabinet just when you thought you were run dry. As if he was everything you needed, and more.

　Tommy was sick of it. Couldn’t stand Joel’s late-night whispers of “She’s fine with Ellie back in Jackson, right?” Sometimes he pretended not to hear him over the loud cracks of the blistering fire, sometimes he just sighed and threw his brother some vague reassurance. He couldn’t be happier as they approached the tall gates of Jackson, returning from their 4 day supply run. He’d be free of his broke-record brother who could finally see that you were fine while they were gone.

　But you weren’t fine. Physically, yes. But emotionally, you were just as bothersome to Ellie as Joel was to Tommy; constantly bugging her with questions of if Joel was alright or not. Ellie was two seconds away from locking you in the house the three of you shared and hiding behind Maria when you inevitably found a way out.

　The house was the first place Joel headed after he dropped his horse off at the stables. His boots left hurried prints in the crisp snow, smearing in determination as he crept closer to his destination. The door burst open, a loud bang alerting you to his arrival. The home smelt like you: lilac and a hint of whiskey. He breathed it in, relishing it. As much as he didn’t want to admit it, he missed this. He missed you.

　And there you were. Waiting for him with a smile on your face. You were toughened by the outbreak, but still radiated warmth and sanctity.

　“Hi,” You spoke softly, taking a slow step towards him. “Ellie’s just at the movies with some of the other girls. Said she’d be back in time to give you hell for not letting her come with you and Tommy.”

　In the blink of an eye Joel was in front of you, wordlessly staring at you with unwavering eyes. Your smile faltered, brow furrowing with uncertainty. “Is everything alright?”

　“I need you.”

　You were slightly taken aback by his words, not expecting that to be the first thing to fly out of his mouth. Speaking of his mouth—It was on you in an instant, feverish kisses being pressed to your jaw, trailing up to your lips. His tongue licked the inside of your mouth, as if he couldn’t control himself.

　As much as you enjoyed the intimacy, you needed to press pause. You gently pressed your hands against his hard chest, putting a good inch or so between the two of you. It was hard to stay sane with the way he was towering over you, hungry for your touch.

　“Joel, what’s going on?” You had the same uncertain smile as before, eyes clouded with worry, a swirl of awakening lust breaking through ever so slightly.

　His hand grabbed your wrist, his grip sweltering. His gaze was darkened by need. He backed you up against the nearest wall, pinning you between the solid surface and his body.

　“You had no idea how hard it was, bein’ away from you with your needy moans playin’ on repeat through my head.”

　His jean covered thigh pressed between your legs, deliciously putting pressure against your cunt. You fought the urge to press into him.

　Joel’s voice was low. “I don’t like bein’ a desperate man, darlin’.”

　“I…I’m sorry, Joel,” Your voice wavered as you spoke, unsure of how to reply to his confession.

　“Yeah, you will be.”

　With that, he went right back to attacking your mouth. It was a mess of teeth and tongues that resulted in swollen lips, your face being rubbed raw by his stubble.

　You rubbed yourself against his thigh, craving any sort of friction to aid your growing arousal. He tutted, but raised his leg higher, allowing you to guide yourself through an already impending orgasm.

　“Joel—Fuck…” You groaned out, pace quickening as you peaked.

　He led you up the stairs and into his bedroom moments afterward, the door being locked behind you. You settled yourself onto his unmade bed, waiting patiently as he crawled over you, somewhat straddling you.

　“Bet you’ve been waiting all week for my fingers,” He said, ghosting the waistband of your panties before diving down into them, digits collecting your cum and wetness, giving him leverage to circle your clit. You nodded, an obscene sound leaving your mouth.

　“Words, baby.” He grunted, pupils trained on your face as your hips grinded against his hand. One finger slipped in, then two, and you found it hard to make any coherent thoughts as overstimulation crept over you. “Tell me how much you missed me.”

　“It was all I could think about,” Your words were broken by moans, plush lips being bitten in an attempt to silence yourself. “I-I touched myself while you were gone, but couldn’t make myself cum. I needed you to do it.”

　You could feel how hard Joel was through his jeans as he pressed into your leg. His fingers left your cunt, and you whined in protest.

　“Patience,” He growled, head lowering towards your cunt. You could feel his hot breath against the inside of your thigh, then the next thing you knew he was licking a stripe up you.

　Your fingers buried themselves in his hair as you ate you out, uncontrollable moans leaving your lips. He groaned into you, the vibrating egging you on. Just as you were about to cum again, he pulled away. A devilish grin danced on his lips as he watched your mouth fall agape.

　“Told ya that you’d be sorry.”

　A part of you wanted to smack the shit-eating grin off of his face, but a bigger part of you was focused on chasing your orgasm, so you sat back and watched him like a hawk as he unbuttoned his jeans, stripping them off along with his boxers.

　He stroked his length, precum dribbling out of his slit. You fought the urge to take him into your mouth. Instead, you relaxed, feeling the tip of his cock slip lazily between your folds until he finally entered you.

　You gasped, not being used to his size. Even with all the prep, it hurt. But that pain quickly turned into pleasure. He turned you over, stripping you of your remaining clothes. Your back pressed against his bare chest as he pawed at your chest, hand squeezing your tit as he fucked into you. It physically shook you, how hard he was fucking you.

　“Do ya know how hard it was while i was gone?” He asked rhetorically, his voice barely registering over the lewd sounds you were making. You for sure thought your cervix would be bruised. “Couldn’t even fuck my hand, darlin’, and all i could think about was you.”

　“Joel,” You whimpered. His one hand dug into your hip, other hand pinching your pebbled nipple. “Don’t stop.”

　You clenched around him as you began to climax, a groan leaving his mouth. Your skin felt sticky with sheen sweat as you came, Joel fucking you through your high and into overstimulation until you felt his hot seed coat your walls.

　You collapsed into him, overheated body laying overtop of his as you both caught your breath. His strong arm wrapped around you, pulling you closer into him. You could feel the muscles in his arm flex as he did so.

　“Well?” He asked after a moment. You looked up at him, his swollen lips curling up into what counted as a grin from the hardened Joel Miller. “Are ya sorry?”

　You smiled into his arm, tongue rolling over your teeth as you prepared to tease.

　“Not in the slightest.”

▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁

　“So, what. Are you guys, like, fuck buddies now?”

　Ellie’s voice was muffled by the dinner shoved into her mouth.

　Your fork hit your plate with a harsh clang, face welling up with embarrassment.

　Joel’s fingers pinched the bridge of his nose in annoyance. “For fuck’s sake, Ellie…”

[euphemiaamillais]

everybody knows that i’m a good girl, officer - coriolanus snow

in which peacekeeper!coryo teaches you a lesson after he finds you out after curfew.

cw: 18+//gun play//blowjobs//name-calling//misogyny//piv sex//slapping//hair pulling//rough sex

you feel something cold press against the back of your head, and hear the sound of something click. his finger hovers on the trigger; he’s not afraid to use it to get what he wants. a district girl is beneath him, but the way you’re wearing such a tight little dress has to be on purpose. the way you’re flaunting yourself, and after curfew at that.

he just has to remind you who’s in charge here.

‘you shouldn’t be out at this time,’ his voice is cool, but stern. you feel him grip at your waist; trapping you in his clutch. there’s no way you can hop off now, bunny.

‘i’m sorry,’ you offer, a little disgruntled that he’s got you like this. you can’t see his face, but you know he’s a peacekeeper. after all, you shouldn’t really have taken a walk so close to their barracks.

‘i don’t think you’re very sorry,’ he spins you around, gun now pointing at your pretty little neck.

his eyes are piercing blue; so much so that you are able to make them out in the moonlight. his platinum blonde buzzcut is visible too, as well as a noble, aquiline nose. he’s clearly been shipped in from the capitol. you’ve seen him around before, with that other peacekeeper, the one who hardly looks like he belongs.

‘i am, sir,’ you state firmly, trying to wriggle away from him. you know it’s best to not provoke them, but you really just want to get home. all you’d done was take a walk for some fresh air—it had been a long day at the market.

‘oh, really?’ he cocks a brow, and runs the end of the gun along your jawline, tracing over the smooth skin. your heart leaps in your chest. for some reason, you’re strangely excited by the gun. the fact that at any second, he could shoot you. but you know he wouldn’t. how could he? you’re so pretty, and perhaps he’ll just have to teach you a lesson.

‘yes,’ you’re not offering him more than a one or two word sentence, wanting to be off as quick as possible. you’ve heard stories about what some of the peacekeepers do to girls who don’t obey them…

but deep down, a part of you wants to find out.

‘hm,’ he purses his lips, moving the gun down your neck, tracing over the two collarbones which stand out—a reminder that you’re district, and weren’t raised on the gourmet luxuries of capitol.

‘now, sir, if you’d let me go,’ you begin, but he stills, and wraps his free hand around your wrist, clenching at the delicate bones. if he presses even a little harder, you’re sure you’ll hear a crunch.

‘oh, i don’t think so,’ he grins, moving his grip up your arm, feeling the exposed skin.

you’ve got goosebumps from the cold, and perhaps the way he’s touching you. your thighs burn with heat. some strange part of you wants him—wants to find out just what he’ll do to a girl like you who’s been breaking the rules.

‘i think, somebody needs to be taught a little lesson about disobeying orders,’ he taunts, and slides his gun back into its holster, only so he can have both his hands on you.

‘oh, i’m disobedient now, am i?’ you admit that you’ve given quite a lot of cheek, but you like this peacekeeper. he’s different—he’s playing a game with you, and perhaps you’re just willing enough to walk right into his trap.

‘don’t be smart with me, doll,’ he quips, and you shut your mouth, not particularly wanting to end up roadkill.

he leads you down the path, towards the back gate of the barracks. you follow—well, it’s not like you have a choice, he’s gripping your arm so hard you’d probably have to break it to free yourself. the pebble road crunches under your feet, and you feel a strange excitement creeping up your spine. the cool air kisses your skin, bringing about a pretty flush to your cheeks, and yet you can’t help but wonder if you’re blushing from the way he’s holding you.

it’s silent when he pushes the gate open, taking great care to be quiet. he casts you a knowing look, and you try your best to be absolutely silent. god knows what fifty peacekeepers would do if you were caught sneaking in.

it’s a little filthy, the fact that you’re letting him take you like this. you’re not begging and pleading for him to let you go, like the other girls do when he catches them stumbling home after an encounter with a lover, or perhaps innocently picking flowers along the side of the road. no, you’re different. you want this, he can see it in your eyes, the way they’re blown wide as he drags you through the door of the barracks.

he presses a finger to your lips, and guides you to the last bunk. it’s strangely quiet, you can’t hear any stirring, and realise that you’re completely alone. he must’ve planned it, the fucking bastard—picking a pretty girl from the side of the road while the rest of the peacekeepers are out in town.

‘what are you going to do to me, officer?’ you feign an innocent look, biting your bottom lip.

he shoves you onto your knees, and you stumble a little, given the fact that you’re wearing an uncomfortable pair of shoes—clearly you hadn’t really been taking a late night walk in those heels.

‘oh, don’t pretend you’re so innocent, dressed like that,’ he eyes the way your dress clings to your breasts, barely covering the ample cleavage. obviously you were hoping to catch someone’s attention.

you can’t help but giggle, though you’re soon quietened by the feeling of his gun pressing against your forehead; cocked and ready to fire. his hand isn’t even trembling, and he looks down upon you sternly.

‘it’s not funny,’ he scolds, clicking his tongue in displeasure. ‘you think you can just traipse about at any time of the night without consequences? you’re lucky i’m so nice. any other peacekeeper would’ve shot you on site.’

he tucks a strand of hair behind your ear with the gun, and you tremble, beginning to feel a little afraid. he’s so much larger than you, and now that you’re on your knees, you can see the outline of his cock straining uncomfortably against the trousers of his uniform.

‘i think it would be such a shame though, for a pretty girl like you to have a bullet put through her head,’ he muses, puckering his lips. ‘i just wanted to put my cock in you and show you how little you’re really worth, what being district scum and all. it’s pathetic, thinking that you can just get away with doing whatever you want.’

your knees are aching already, and a little greedily, you reach out your hands and begin to unzip his trousers. you’re met by a slap clean across your cheek, which stings and causes a few tears to prick at the corners of your eyes.

‘don’t fucking touch me unless i tell you!’ he yells, and he doesn’t have to say it again to get it through your head. the red mark forming on your cheek is enough of a reminder.

‘god dammit,’ he spits, readjusting the grip he has on the gun. you look so pathetic, trying not to cry. he can’t believe you tried to tell him what to do—don’t you know that little district whores like you don’t get a say? he’ll be sure to fuck that into you. obedience can always be taught—especially when you’re being pounded like a common whore.

he unzips his trousers himself, tugging them down to his knees, and then removes his white boxers, revealing a large, veiny cock that looks in dire need of relief. your mouth can’t help but to water, and he doesn’t even need to tell you to open your mouth, you’re that desperate to have it inside of you.

he slides the tip of his cock past your plump lips, which are wet with saliva, and you begin to diligently suck. he can’t help but groan, still pressing the gun prettily against your head, liking the surge of power it gives him, holding your life in his hands. one wrong move, one attempt to disobey him, and you could be dead. of course, it would be so fucking messy to clean you up. a sticky pool of blood and brains. even that was too much for him.

‘god, you fucking whore,’ he groans as you move your tongue deftly up and down his shaft, taking care to pay special attention to the rigid veins. you’ve done it enough times to know how to really make a man squirm.

the threat of a gun at your head is somehow making your palms burn with want, and heat to pool at your core. you want nothing more than his big cock to stretch you out and fill you with his hot, sticky cum.

‘you like that, don’t you? taking my cock like the little slut you are,’ he bucks his hips a little, forcing his cock further down your throat.

this time you really gag, not like with the other men where you have to stroke their egos. his cock is a choking hazard. you suck in a breath through your nose, and continue to wrap your lips around his shaft, bobbing your head up and down. you gaze up at him with bleary eyes, but he grabs a fistful of your hair and forces your head down further.

real tears spring to your eyes, and begin to trickle down your cheeks as you take all of him in. he doesn’t even give you the opportunity to use your hands, and you can feel his balls slapping against your chin as he fucks your throat.

you’re clutching at his legs, attempting to centre yourself while he’s brutalising your throat. he’s barely letting you put in the work now, his cock pulsing with desire. he’s so close, he can feel it, and he wants to cum right down your pretty throat.

he cries out, thrusts slowing, your throat utterly bruised and battered, and seconds later you feel him spilling his hot load. you swallow it all, showing him just how obedient you are, and he pulls out, watching as spit dribbles down your chin. you look so helpless, a dumbfounded look in your eyes, cum dribbling from your puffy lips.

‘get up!’ he commands, using the gun to gesture to the bottom bunk of one of the beds.

you scramble around for a second, knees aching, and just as you find your balance, he pushes you flat on your stomach against the bed. you feel his hands on your ass now, sliding over the cheap fabric of your dress, tugging it up at the hem to reveal your panties. god, you really are a little whore, wearing black lace panties. you’re just begging to be fucked.

‘i haven’t finished teaching you your lesson yet,’ he remarks, cool fingers tracing over your slick folds. ‘i don’t think you’ve been very obedient.’

you shake your head, trying not to gasp as he slips a finger inside your hole. he can’t believe how tight you are, considering you’ve probably sold yourself to half the men in district 12. he slips another finger in, feeling generous, curling it up in just the right spot.

you mewl, and he slaps your ass, in utter disbelief that you think that you can enjoy what he’s doing. whores don’t get to cum, no, they get to take what they’re given. he’ll make sure of that.

his cock is already hard again at the thought of getting to bury himself in you, and he’s hasty about pulling your panties down. you adjust yourself a little, and he groans at the sight of your wet hole, trickling with slickness. jesus, how fucking desperate were you?

‘so fuckin’ hard,’ he grunts, grabbing his cock with one hand and sliding it into your cunt without any time for adjustment.

you let out a heavy breath, feeling his big cock stretch you out—you’re thankful you’re not a virgin. he begins to slide in and out, building up a solid pace. when he hears you gasping, and sees that you’ve got your fingers at your clit, he reaches forward and pulls you up by your hair, causing you to lose your way with your hands.

‘what did i say, hm? you obey me, and clearly you can’t fuckin’ do that,’ he hisses, tugging your hair so hard that you feel your scalp prickling.

he shoves you back down again, and this time you don’t dare to touch yourself, no matter how much your cunt throbs with want. you accept his punishment, and let him pound into you, the sound of skin against skin echoing through the barracks.

you’re such a whore, the way you gasp at all the right times as his big cock stretches around your tight walls. he bets you’ve taken cock hundreds of times, but he’s determined to be the best, making sure you know what you’re worth—which is nothing. you’re so beneath him, you’re the fucking dirt on his shoe, and he won’t hesitate to polish you off if you don’t do as he says.

he’s really pounding you now, hands gripping roughly at your hips in an attempt to drive himself further into your cunt, watching as your pussy leaves a milky ring around his base. his dog tags dangle in his face as he bends down to shove himself deeper into you, and the jangling reminds you that he’s the one in charge here. you’re just a poor little girl from the districts, and he’s got the authority. he could do whatever he wanted to you, and he’d get away with that. he won’t let you forget.

‘god, you’re taking me so well,’ he grunts, bucking his hips in pleasure. ‘such a fuckin’ whore though.’

he pulls at your hair again, and you groan, feeling your head snap back a little. he’s fucking you so hard, and while you’re enjoying it, you do have to admit there’ll be bruises on your hips and thighs come tomorrow morning. you’re not mad about it though, liking the thought that you’re all his.

‘have you learned your lesson, hm?’ he asks, snapping his hips against your ass, chasing the peak that is building up as your walls clench around him.

‘yes,’ you mumble, dumbfounded. your brief answer is unsatisfactory, however, and earns you another slap across the ass. this one leaves a pretty red hand print, a memento from him.

‘yes what?’ he eggs, rubbing his hand against the other cheek, ready to strike again if you don’t give him the answer he wants.

‘yes sir,’ you cry out, beads of sweat clinging to your forehead as he slams into you.

‘good girl. that wasn’t so hard now, was it?’ he inquires, and you shake your head lazily.

he’s going so hard now you’re not sure if you can take it, and you clutch desperately at the corner of the bed, whining. though you don’t dare beg him to stop, afraid of what he’ll do. he slams into you one last time, and feels himself come undone. he spills his spend into your wet cunt, hot spurts of cum filling you up. another pathetic district girl taking his load. he smiles to himself.

‘you loved every second of that, didn’t you?’ he pulls out of you, watching you turn around and face him, dress up around your waist, hips speckled with fresh bruises from where he’s gripped you.

‘yes sir,’ you answer back, and he offers a smirk in return, never happier to hear that name on your lips.

now you know just exactly what peacekeepers do to pretty girls that don’t obey them.

[fanwarriorfictions]

Not Again - Epilogue

Summary: What classifies home? For them, it was each other.

Warnings: small bit of angst, mostly fluff

Series Masterlist

-Epilogue-

There was a shift in the air, so subtle that it could’ve been passed off as a breeze through a cracked window. It was just enough to wake Y/n from a deep sleep, Azriel’s shadows caressing her skin as she rose despite the male being dead asleep beside her.

The sky was still dark as Y/n pried herself from Azriel’s grip, untwining their legs, pushing away the hands that try and keep her pinned to his chest. The male didn’t wake up as she finally slipped from their bed, searching the floor for his shirt and her own underwear to cover her bare skin. He didn’t wake, not even as she slipped from their room, a shadow or two following her out.

Their little town house was quiet, nothing out of place, no sign of that shift in the air. Maybe it was just an open window, maybe she hadn’t latched the one in the kitchen where she’d cooled the pie she baked for dinner. Elain had been teaching her new recipes, Y/n was testing them out on Azriel, who finally admitted he also had a sweet tooth, after years of denial.

The house had been a gift from their family, the first few months after the gate had closed had been hard for Y/n. She was happy, so unbelievably happy with her mate, but she’d find herself back in that room, staring at that empty arch, waiting for anything to happen, waiting for her family to step through.

More than once, Nesta had found her sitting there, the busybody of a house guiding its owner to her to check on her. Nesta had sat with her, had listened to Y/n talk through her conflicting feelings, she’d been the one to suggest to Feyre that they needed a new place, somewhere not haunted with memories and what ifs.

After several years living here, she didn’t need any lights to find her way down the steps and into the kitchen. The window was indeed open, the small crack letting in the winter air beyond. She breathed it in, a small smile on her lips at the familiar feeling. Terrasen would be covered by several feet of snow this time of year, similar to the mountains of Illryia, where her mate had grown up and trained.

He’d brought her to Windhaven and other villages throughout the territory several times, usually against his will when Rhys asked them to check on the Illryians, to watch over the female’s training. Y/n knew that Azriel despised the place, she understood why, he’d rarely experienced kindness while he was growing up, not until his brothers had found him. Yet Azriel had bared it, for the females they were fighting for, and for her. The mountains reminded her of home, the snow, the trees, all of it. He’d made them a cabin there among the pine trees, a place she could go when she was especially homesick.

Y/n latches the window, overlooking the small garden behind her home, the towering red cliffs far beyond it. She could see the house of wind high in the starry sky, a few windows lit up by flickering lights from fireplaces inside keeping the home warm.

There, Nesta and Cassian would wake in a few hours, just before dawn broke to eat breakfast and prepare for the day. Y/n and Azriel would fly up to the training grounds atop the cliffs for their daily sessions with the them and the rest of the Valkyries. Then she and Gwyn would go into the library to study and work, Azriel would kiss her goodbye and several hours later he would wait for by the door to take her home.

Silent as ever, she doesn’t notice him until his strong arms were wrapping around her waist, tucking her into his chest. Azriel is practically a furnace at her back, a welcoming feeling in the winter kissed room.

She sighs, letting her head fall back against his bare chest, looking up at her mate. He’s perfectly disheveled, hair messy from sleep and from her hands running through the waves, his neck a constellation of bruises, surrounding the crescent shaped scar of her teeth, a mating gift. His eyes are still heavy, like he’d barely woken up, just knew that she had left, blindly following her.

“Where’d you go, my love.”

He presses a gentle kiss to the top of her head, lingering for a few moments.

She smiles softly at him, “Just forgot to close the window.”

He glances through the glass, where she’d been staring off, he found nothing, “Come back to bed, Princess.”

Y/n couldn’t help but look back out at the garden, at the city, at the cliffs, as if there was something out there begging her to check one more time. Azriel doesn’t persist, he lets her take her time, but he does rest his head on her shoulder, a gentle reminder that the shadowsinger was still half asleep. He would never rush her, but he nuzzles her neck, kissing one of his own claiming marks, the dark purple bruise directly above her pulse.

She sighs, tilting her head to give him better access, “Fine.”

It’s all he needs to pull away, just to sweep her up into his arms, strong and steady despite his sleepy state.

Y/n laughs quietly, “So needy.”

He doesn’t pause his steps towards their bedroom to lean down and capture her lips in a chaste kiss, “You’ve spoiled me to long, Princess, I can’t sleep with out you.”

“Big Illryian baby,” she coos, giving him one more kiss before resting her head on his shoulder.

They walk up the stairs, and into their room. Azriel gently lays her down on her side of the bed before laying down beside her. He tucks the blankets around both of them, pulling her to his side as he settled into the pillows behind him.

In the safety of his arms, Y/n finds it easy to fall back to sleep, dreaming of a night sky, full of constellations, a beautiful stag smiling down on her.

Far above them, the house of wind stirs. A room, long since dark and empty, lights. If anyone had been watching they would have seen a green light in the window.

Nesta had stirred at the familiar feeling, running to that room that hadn’t moved in the last ten years. She was hopeful, but cautious, Ataraxia in her hand.

The green light flowed through the door way as she rounded the corner. The gate was shining with that bright green light, familiar yet different. And there, standing in the middle of the room was a beautiful female she didn’t recognize.

She examines the room with mute curiosity, and Nesta notices a simple blade strapped to her back, a scrap of red fabric tied to the hilt.

“Who are you.” Nesta levels her own blade at the female, “What are you doing here.”

Her golden gaze halts its lazy search of the room, slowly dragging towards Nesta as if she just noticed her. There was something unsettling about the female, like something lurked below her skin, the beauty a disguise for the monster beneath.

Her head tilts in a way that has Nesta’s instincts reaching for her power, “I’m here to collect my niece, witchling.”

The white hair, golden eyes, Nesta raises a single brow, “Manon?”

The witch queen smiles, and those iron teeth slide into place, “I hope she only told you the good stories.”

“Depends on your classification of good.”

Azriel woke to a gentle tap on his mental shields. He was hesitant to open them, he knew what his brother had to say would make him get up and leave the warmth of his mate’s arms. The gentle taps turned persistent, like Rhys knew he was ignoring him.

What? Azriel sighs, Is the world ending before the sun has a chance to rise?

Not quite, Rhys laughs, But it would seem you and Y/n are needed at the house of wind.

Azriel sits up, For?

You’ll see.

Rhys doesn’t give him a chance to respond. Azriel looks at his mate, sleeping peacefully by his side. Her hair is a mess, and her lips are parted, letting out the softest snores. He hates to wake her, half because she looks adorable like this, the other half, because she got grouchy when woken up. He’d learned that the hard way.

So he did it the one way he knew would work. Azriel pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead, then her temple, her cheeks, her nose. Each kiss had her whining in her sleep until she was slowly stirring.

“Good morning, Princess,” he whispers, lightly pressing his lips to hers. “You’ve got to wake up.”

She hums against him, “No I don’t.”

Azriel smiles, pushing a wild piece of hair behind her ear, “Yes, you do.”

Y/n nuzzles into his palm, “I don’t want to.”

“I know, my love.” His lips travel across her jaw, down her throat, “We’ve been summoned.”

She sighs, tilting her head back as his lips explored her neck, “Tell Rhys to suck it up, he can summon me when the sun wakes up.”

Azriel laughs, nipping at the sensitive skin around her pulse, relishing in the small noise she makes, “I’m sure he wouldn’t ask me to risk my life waking you if it wasn’t important.”

Finally her eyes open, glaring up at him as he pulls away, “I’m not a feral animal you need to poke with a stick.”

Azriel smirks, “No, I wouldn’t say a feral animal, maybe a domesticated one, like a fussy cat.”

She hisses, baring those lethal canines, and Azriel leans down to kiss her, not scared of those sharp teeth, even when she lightly bites him. He just smiles against her lips.

You two are taking your time, Rhys butts into his mind, Tell Y/n the sun is coming up, no excuses anymore.

He doesn’t even open his mouth to relay the words, before Y/n is already snarling, “Tell him he’s a prick.”

His high lord simply laughs in his mind, before disappearing completely.

The dawn broke as they flew to the house of wind, the sun peaking out over the horizon, desperately trying to warm the snow covered city below. It did little to keep them from freezing, so they flew fast.

The house welcomes them with a warm embrace when they enter, and it’s far from quiet. Voices tumble out of the main living space, and one stops her dead in her tracks.

“No you cannot ride Abraxos.”

Cassian groans, “But-“

“No.”

“Who is that?” Azriel takes her hand in his, noting the way her whole body starts to shake.

She doesn’t respond, only pulls him towards the room, she sees Cassian first, wings flared like he was ready to fight. And there, standing like she couldn’t care less about the giant Illryian before her, was Manon.

Those golden eyes slide to her, and a smile lights the witch queen’s face, “Hello, witchling.”

Faces turned to her Rhys, Cassian, and Nesta, she searched for more, searched for any sign of her parents.

“They’re not here,” Manon says, “I didn’t waste time sending for them, I came as soon as the mirror opened.”

“Mirror?” Y/n asks breathlessly.

Manon pulls a small object from her pocket, a witch mirror. They were few and far between, she’d only seen two growing up, the sister-glasses her and Dorian used to talk when they were apart. This one was similar to those, but engraved into the edges were Wyrd marks.

She read a few of them, most where protective marks, shields. But there, right on top, was the mark she’d made to open the gates, the simple archway.

Azriel examines the mirror over her shoulder, in its reflection she can see his furrowed brows low over his deep hazel eyes.

“As soon as they told me that you’d been taken through a gate I had every witch in my kingdom looking for a way to bring you back,” Manon explains, “And when Dorian had returned, told me that you had stayed in this world, I kept looking. While he was squandered away in his libraries studying those dusty old books, I flew through the world looking for a witch who could make me a mirror no one had ever made before.

“It took many years, many trials, and many broken mirrors,” Manon says, “But we finally made this one, it’s sister-glass is back home, holding my gate open, hiding it from prying eyes.”

Beside her, Azriel speaks softly, “How does it work?”

Manon eyes him, and Y/n has a brief moment of panic as to what the witch might do. The others seemingly have a similar reaction, Cassian none to subtly resting a hand on a dagger at his side. Manon notes the movement and glares at the male.

“It only requires a drop of blood to open the gate,” she says, voice tense like she was holding back her iron teeth, “Simply think of the place you wish to go and the gate will open. It will stay as long as you wish it.”

Y/n felt like laughing and crying all at once. She could go home, could live her life with her mate by her side, could come to her home in Velaris whenever she liked.

She didn’t think, just surged forward and flung her arms around Manon. The witch didn’t snap her iron teeth, didn’t scratch her with those metal claws, she simply wrapped her arms around Y/n and held tight.

“I’ve missed you too, witchling.”

Her whole body is shaking, joyful tears welling in her eyes. When they part, Azriel is there to keep her on her feet, he always was there for her, always would be.

She knew it was something that ate away at Azriel these years, that she stayed for him, that he hadn’t gone for her. It was a conversation they’d had many times, he had no reason to feel guilty, she’d made her choice, and she didn’t regret it at all. Azriel was needed here, there were many things he hadn’t told her those months when she’d first arrived, human queens threatening war, fae from the continent stirring, ancient beings in lakes. They’d dealt with those things together, spying and fighting and killing.

Y/n loved her home, missed it terribly, but she had found her mate, found her own story to tell, found her purpose beyond being a spoiled princess. Her parents reign was far from over, her own was in the far distant future. She believed that she would one day find her way back to Terrasen, and now it was happening.

“Can I see the mirror?”

Manon holds it out to her, “It is yours, use it wisely.”

Y/n held the glass, looking at that small archway carved into the mirror. Behind her, Azriel is smiling, stepping back to give her space. He stands between his brothers, nodding once, whispering down that bridge of shadow, Go home, Princess.

She grins, bringing her thumb to her sharp canine, biting down just enough to draw a little blood. Y/n pictures Orynth, the castle, her parents, and she presses her thumb right on that Wyrd mark.

Green light flairs, shining through the mirror to the floor at her feet, and before her, like a window between worlds, opens a gate. And there, sitting right where she knew they would take their breakfast, her parents, both standing at the ready, to fight, to defend. Yet they don’t find any threat, their eyes wide as they met her own.

“Oh gods,” her mother sobs.

And Y/n is running, wind pushing at her heels, she feels the exact moment she passes through the gate, like the magic in her blood sighs in relief. Her mother meets her halfway, colliding hard enough to steal the breath from her lungs. Before they have the chance to fall, her father is there, wrapping both of them in his arms, holding them steady.

Y/n can barely breathe, they hold her so tight, and she holds just as tightly.

“How?” Aelin asks through her tears.

“I got sick of waiting for you all,” Manon says behind them.

She walks through the gate, leaving Prythian behind, the three Illryian males and Nesta as well.

Rowan looks to the witch, his voice thick with emotion, “thank you.”

Manon nods simply, “It was time my niece came home.”

Aelin pulls away, her hands resting on Y/n’s cheeks, “I’ve missed you, my Fireheart, every single day.”

“I missed you too,” Y/n sobs, looking up to her father, “both of you, so much.”

Rowan doesn’t speak, only places a gentle kiss to her head, holding her tightly, like she’d disappear at any moment. Y/n holds just as tightly to them both. For several minutes, that’s all they can do, none of them willing to let go. Only when Manon clears her throat does Rowan pull back, Aelin is more hesitant to release her hold.

Her father’s eyes move behind her, Y/n looks back to find his gaze on the portal, on Azriel stepping through tentatively. Her heart gallops in her chest as her father walks to her mate, that calm mask over both of their faces.

Rowan stops before him, offering his hand like he had the last time they’d seen each other. Azriel carefully takes the hand, shaking it once, and then her father pulls him into an embrace.

“Thank you,” Rowan says, “For taking care of her.”

Azriel, to her surprise, hugs him back, and her heart almost burst in her chest, “Always.”

Aelin pulls back, wiping the tears from her eyes as she looks through the gate at the three fae still standing there, “Would you care for a tour?”

Rhys grins, “Can I grab my mate before we begin? She’d love to see it.”

“Of course,” Aelin smiles, looking back at Y/n with her eyes shining, “Bring everyone, you’re all family now.”

His family had jumped at the opportunity to tour the vast castle, and the beautiful city surrounding it. He’d stayed by Y/n’s side, watching her tell stories of her childhood home. They’d encountered many of her family on the way, Cassian had almost jumped Lorcan on sight, only stopped by Nesta at his side. Each reunion left Azriel feeling raw.

She’d given all of this up for him, no matter how many times she’d reassured him that it was her choice, and she chose him gladly, he still felt that guilt, he tried to hide it, but she always knew, even without the bond to tell her.

“Come with me,” she whispers in his ear, taking his hand in hers, “I want to show you something.”

He put on that mask, hoping she wouldn’t see through it, see the thoughts eating away at him.

Azriel smiles down at her, “Lead the way, Princess.”

They leave their families in the training grounds, where Cassian was getting closer and closer to wearing Lorcan down for that fight he was itching to have. No one noticed them, and if they did, they didn’t stop them.

She brought him back into the castle, pulling him up the huge grand staircase.

“Where are we going?” Azriel asks.

She sends him one of those sweet little smiles, “Just wait and you’ll see.”

Y/n takes him through several hallways, each of them grand and decorated with gorgeous paintings. Feyre would love to take her time looking at every single one. He didn’t have that time to admire them, his mate’s pace rushing them past each one.

They finally stopped at a set of doors, tall, white doors with golden handles. She takes her hand from his to open each of them, revealing a huge room.

He instantly knew it was her own, her scent still clings to the space, despite her decade long absence.

The sitting room is decorated with well loved chairs, pillows and blankets draped over them, surrounding a large fireplace, the mantle decorated with flowers and trinkets.

There’s a piano in the corner, it looked near identical to the one she bought for their house, she’d been teaching him to play for the past few years, he could finally carry a tune.

Y/n moves through the space, running her fingers over her desk full of papers, “It’s exactly how I left it.”

Azriel follows her, closing the doors behind him, she walks through the space, towards the door that leads to her bedroom. And beyond that, a balcony.

She opens the doors, stepping out onto the ice and snow covered stone, he follows her and he looks out over the city below. Beautiful, it was absolutely breathtaking. The city was alive with music and laughter, much like Velaris. Azriel looked out over the horizon, he could see all the way to the Oakwald forest, the ancient magic singing to him even from here.

“I didn’t give anything up,” she says quietly, entwining their hands between them, “I made my choice, and I gained everything.”

Azriel couldn’t speak, so he squeezed her hand, begging her to continue. She turns, placing her other hand on his chest, directly over his heart.

“I didn’t lose my crown, my life, it’s all still here,” she says, looking out over Orynth, “and I found my home. Not through a gate, but with you, Az.”

He could only look at her, could only admire his beautiful mate. This female, who’d fallen into his life, who’d stood toe to toe with him and won, stealing the heart from his chest. Y/n had chosen him, and he would chose her for the rest of his life.

“Where’d you go, shadowsinger?”

Azriel brought his free hand to her face, holding his world in the palm of his hand. When he kisses her, everything feels right, feels perfect. And for the first time in his life, he felt like he truly belonged somewhere, and that somewhere was with her, wherever she was.

“Home, Princess.”

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[etfrin]

❝ꜱᴏᴜʟꜱ ᴛᴏ ᴄʀᴜꜱʜ❞ — chapter twelve | coriolanus snow

「ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢ:」 NSFW | Canon typical violence, coriolanus snow, dr. gual, mentions of blood, mentions of period, period sex (fingering, f. receiving), dom-ish Coriolanus, mean Coriolanus, murder, aftercare | lmk if I forgot anything!

「ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ:」 young! Coriolanus Snow x fem! Reader

「ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ:」 Coriolanus Snow finds himself in the arena and later in your arms

「ᴀ/ɴ:」 double update, and they had more than their first kiss? how are you liking it so far? please let me know! ❤️

beta read by perfection itself @nowitsmissing

series masterlist | navigation | taglist

The gong sounded at that moment, and the tributes scattered. Most fled to the gates that led to the tunnels, several of which had been blown open by the latest bombing. Coriolanus could see Lucy Gray run to the underground tunnel he had told her about.

‘Run!’ he thinks, and he could see Coral, the girl from District Four with her trident already killing tributes. The fights were a blur. He sees Lucy Gray noticing Jessup, the District twelve boy yet to pick up any weapons. The stupid songbird runs towards him instead of the tunnels and Coriolanus nearly stands up, wanting to yell at her for her actions. It was a few close calls, but she hadn't died.

She takes Jessup and flees under the tunnels. She tries to kick the door open, but the metal door refuses to budge. She looks around, afraid that other tributes would catch up. Meanwhile, Flickerman comments as other tributes rush in, “Hy and Sol on the other side pincering on Lucy Gray.”

There was a small space below the door, thankfully Coriolanus watched as Lucy Gray and Jessup managed to crawl in. Another tribute dies but is brutally murdered by Coral's pack. Meanwhile Jessup and Lucy Gray are safe in the room they were in.

Coriolanus relaxes in his seat, relieved for now. Six tributes were gone within minutes. Lucky Flickerman comments, “To the children watching, that was violent, horrific, and disgusting.” Coriolanus wants to scoff at the blatant hypocrisy, the games existed because the Capitol enforced it. It was violent because of the Capitol. It was disgusting but it wasn't on the districts.

Coriolanus catches himself, his chain of thoughts rebelling against his beliefs. He swallows and looks at you. Your free hand clutching your stomach, your face turning pale in sickness. Coriolanus finds himself overwrought, he leans in to whisper, “Are you alright?”

You let out a small groan and shook your head, “I started bleeding this morning. The painkillers aren't kicking in and the cramps are getting worse.” It takes Coryo an embarrassing amount of time to understand what you meant. You're on your period. Oh. Your earlier behavior made a bit more sense now, you were in pain and you were acting out.

He knew the basics of the menstrual cycle thanks to the Academy teaching Sex Ed. And Tigris never shied away from it either, she made sure Coriolanus knew that period was an extremely normal thing a woman (or anyone with a uterus) has to go through each month. He lets his eyes soften, and he squeezes your hand in a comforting manner.

“Is there anything I can do to help?” He asked.

You shake your head in response, but you look even sicker than before. Coriolanus felt displeased seeing you like this, you should have been resting instead the damn games kept you here. It also explained why you had to skip your interview too. You were too sick.

He looks at the screens. Nothing interesting was happening now. It was so boring that Lucky Flickerman had switched to his former job of being a weatherman. Coriolanus decided to go to the cafeteria, hoping to find something you could snack on. That should help a tiny bit.

“I will be back,” he announced, getting up from his seat and heading to the cafeteria. He sees the assortment of food, he heads straight for the sandwiches first. He takes a plate and gets four sandwiches. Two for each of you. Then he searches for something sweet, thankfully, due to the joyous occasion of the games. The cafeteria made different sorts of desserts including chocolate. Coriolanus made sure to pile them up on the plate, leaving nothing behind. He wasn't sure what you liked after all. He was hoping to find out after this.

Then he looks at one of the staff, and he's not sure if he should ask or not. But then he remembered how you were clutching your stomach. With a sigh, he calls someone out, a fellow worker who looks back and politely smiles at Coriolanus.

“Is there any possible way to be given hot water in a bottle?”

“If it's to drink we can give you a glass-”

“No, it's for my girl. She has cramps.”

The female worker nods in understanding and tells him to wait. Coriolanus looked at the clock of the cafeteria, five minutes had passed. He wondered if anything was happening. He hoped that he hadn't missed anything and the songbird was safe. She was the key to everything after all.

“The show isn't over until the mockingjay sings,” he mutters in futile reassurance.

The worker comes in and hands him the hot water bottle. Coriolanus thanks her and rushes back to the auditorium. “You're back,” you said to him, your gaze on the plate of food he had bought. The only meal both of you had was the breakfast he cooked, and neither finished it. So it was understandable you were hungry.

“What did I miss?” He asked, handing you the hot water bottle. You stare at the metal bottle for a moment, baffled by the gesture. He could see your eyes to water and he felt dread creeping in his mind. Had he fucked up? He wanted to do something nice, that's all. He wanted to take care of you!

“Thank you,” you choked out, your voice thick with vulnerability. You press the hot water bottle to the area of your cramps and blink the tears away. “And sorry…” you muttered sheepishly, “Shouldn't have behaved that way.”

“It's fine,” he said, even if it wasn't. You shouldn't have been rude to him, so unnecessarily, but he will let go for now. He turned away to look at the screen to see Marcus was dead, lying on the ground.

Coriolanus turns to you for an explanation. You were ravishing your sandwich. “Mercy killing,” you had simply replied, “That girl killed him with an ax.”

“Well, that's what happens when you do stuff!” Lucky Flickerman comments, “You get attention.” He moved toward Pup Harington, the mentor of District Seven, Lamina. He explained the rules of communicuff. Pup Harington seizes the opportunity to send his tribute a bottle of water.

Coriolanus can see through the screen that the girl from District Seven reaches out to get the glass bottle. She has to duck to avoid crashing into the metal drone as the drone doesn't slow down and crashes into some debris behind her. Breaking the water bottle as well. Pup Harington curses and Coriolanus leans forward as he realizes the faulty mechanism of the drones. He can't send Lucy Gray water or food unless he wants to risk hurting her.

You tsk, “These were probably last-minute inventions to infuse your idea,” you bite the dark chocolate he bought you, “She could have done it next year.”

“She needs the games to shine this year to have games for the next year,” Coriolanus replied.

“What's the point if it's faulty?”

Coriolanus doesn't reply to that, he turns his focus to the screen. Staring at the death of Marcus from District Two and wondering what was his sin to receive this fate. All he did was run for his life.

✧ ▬▭▬ ▬▭▬ ✦✧✦ ▬▭▬ ▬▭▬ ✧

None were remaining in the auditorium except you and Coriolanus. You were asleep in your chair and Coryo was dozing off. Trying to keep his focus on the screen; in case anything happens. He was nearly asleep when Dr. Gauls' voice caused him to flinch and be awake.

“Mr. Snow,” she hisses like a snake.

“Dr. Gaul,” he said, his gaze turning into your sleeping form before he met Dr. Gauls' crazed eyes.

“Did something happen? Is it Lucy Gray?”

“Unless you can put a leash on your deluded classmate, she might as well be dead as far as you're concerned.”

Ugh, what the fuck did Sejanus do this time. Go into the arena? Then he realized the irony of his thoughts because he could see Sejanus Plinth through the medium of the screen that was broadcasting the games. He was in the arena.

Sejanus Plinth was in the arena.

The fuck is wrong with him! And why is Dr. Gaul visiting him over this, shouldn't she go to his daddy? He was tired, and his body hurt from sitting in the chair for long hours. Why was he stuck in this mess?

“Bread crumbs I believe,” Dr. Gaul said, turning towards the screen in which he could see Sejanus Plinth wasting precious bread, sprinkling it over the corpse. “Sustenance for a fallen comrade. District two superstition.”

Coriolanus frowned as he watched Sejanus wasting the bread in this manner. Stupid, stupid, stupid. It would have made more sense to him if he sneaked into where Lucy Gray was and handed her the food. Instead, he was throwing it on a rotting corpse. Only the districts are capable of this stupidity.

“I need someone to get him out right now,” she said.

Was she implying he would go to the arena for a ridiculous Plinth boy? He knew she was insane but this was borderline dumb. He doesn't want to risk his life!

“You should send the Peacekeepers,” he replied, as calmly as possible. He doesn't want to go. He's not suicidal enough for that.

Dr. Gaul goes on to explain why she can't send Peacekeepers and the district. She even mentions his classmate, Felix Ravinstill. Frankly, Coriolanus couldn't bring himself to care. Let the Plinth boy die, it's the consequence of his action.

Then Dr. Gaul adds, “Who knows? You get him out unscathed, I'll whisper your name in his father's ear. You still want the Plinth Prize, don't you?” Dr. Gaul knew that he didn't need to verbally agree, his expression was enough.

“I'll freeze the feed for an hour. I estimate that's all we have before the people notice.”

Then, Dr. Gaul leaves after informing Coryo that there's a van waiting for him to take him to the arena. He begins to stand up from his seat, getting ready for the journey to his doom.

“You know I am going with you, right?”

He startled, turning towards you, he firmly said to you, “No.” He watched you rub your eyes, you were sleepy that was clear. You must have woken up while that witch was talking. You shake your head in response.

“Don't care. I won't let that bitch make you go alone.”

He said your name in warning. You glare at him with your adorable, tired eyes. “I am going, Coriolanus Snow. Or else I'll tell everyone about what Sejanus is doing right now.”

He clenched his jaw. He grits out, “You could die.”

“So could you!”

He doesn't argue against that.

✧ ▬▭▬ ▬▭▬ ✦✧✦ ▬▭▬ ▬▭▬ ✧

A van takes you and him towards the arena. Losing precious minutes that you use to nap. Your head on his shoulder, while he ran his fingers along his scar, thinking of scenarios to bring all three of you alive. He would sacrifice Sejanus to save you. There's no doubt about that. But it's an action he can't afford right now.

So he thinks and thinks. His mind grew increasingly agitated. There's so much that can go wrong. One wrong move. A tribute waking up and deciding that they were easy kills. Caging them. Torturing you. Hurting you. He feels his breathing getting faster, his vision blurring as these thoughts begin to attack.

He gasps, his eyes closing. His chest rapidly moved up and down. He bit his lower lip until he tasted blood. He forced himself to breathe through his nose. There's no time for an attack right now. He doesn't have the luxury of that. He lets the weight of your head anchor him.

He's going to have a future. He's not going to let anything happen to you. And nothing will happen to him. Sejanus will come out of this alive as well.

Snow lands on top.

Snow lands on top.

Snow lands on top.

✧ ▬▭▬ ▬▭▬ ✦✧✦ ▬▭▬ ▬▭▬ ✧

He doesn't let you go in. He won't. When you tried to insist, he growled at you, “I won't be getting him back if I am trying to save you. I need to get him back. I can't make you a higher priority here.” You narrowed your eyes but Coriolanus knew you didn't have a fighting bone in your body. Your hands wove into his curls, and you make him reach your height.

“Then you better come back, Coriolanus Snow. Alive. Otherwise, you won't like the consequences.”

He wants to kiss you. God, he wants to kiss you. He decided that he would come back alive from this. He will. He will steal your breath and make you lose all of your senses. He will ruin you because life is too unpredictable, too short. He can't wait any longer.

He leaves you there. He walks inside the arena, the monotone voice announcing his entry with the usual ‘Enjoy the game’. It sends chills down his spine.

Snow sees Sejanus near the dead body of Marcus. Coriolanus tiptoes across the field. Sejanus laughs quietly when he sees Coriolanus. “Thought they would send my Ma,” he said, bitterly.

“You need to get out, Coryo,” he said and Coriolanus wanted to choke him. It was a nickname for family and friends. A nickname for you. And he had used it blatantly for the first time in a situation like this nonetheless.

“I would like to,” Snow whispered, annoyed. “I really would. But I promised to get you out.”

“Why?”

Because I need to win the Plinth Prize.

Because Dr. Gaul forced me.

“Because you're my friend,” he lied.

“I had to do this,” Sejanus begins to explain, looking desperate, begging to be understood. “I had to go where the cameras were.”

Unfortunately, Coriolanus wasn't the right person for it. “Do you think anyone is watching this? She cut off the feed. You die here and she'll say you died of the flu.”

“You need to decide,” Coriolanus huffed, “Are you gonna be a dead body in Gauls' war or do something actual good?”

“What good can I do out there?”

Was it too late to choke him?

“You're smart. You're rich. You care.” Coriolanus argued, “You can do it if you want. With your father's money.” Sejanus and Coryo flinch when they hear noises in the quiet arena. It was the sound of sharpening knives. “We’re dead if we don't leave right now,” Coryo hisses.

Coriolanus and Sejanus begin to leave. Coriolanus gripped his arm to practically drag him away from Marcus's body. Just then he hears footsteps, and he freezes. Then yells out at Sejanus to run as a tribute comes towards them with a long knife. Sejanus and Coriolanus reach the entrance of the arena, Coriolanus jumps over the entry point but Sejanus trips.

Sejanus holds his knee, groaning and Coriolanus runs back to get him. The tribute catches up and manages to slash Coriolanus back. Coriolanus lets out a blood-curdling scream from the pain, adrenaline rushing in. He has to go back. He has to go back to you; you're waiting for him.

Coriolanus’s fingers closed around a two-by-four, and he brought it up, catching Bobbin in the temple hard, sending him to his knees. And then he was on his feet, using the board like a club, bringing it down again and again without being sure where it made contact.

“We have to go!” Sejanus shouted.

He pants, throwing the board aside. The boy was dead and he wasn't sure what to make of the rush he felt as he saw another dead body in front of him. One of his own making. One that assured him of his survival and made him feel alive.

Sejanus brings back to reality as more tributes come in. He and Sejanus run out as the Peacekeepers open the barricade. He was brought to the ground by the weight of a body. He groans as he feels you on top of him. His back was bleeding onto the ground.

“You're alive,” you whisper, your eyes wide, and your lips swollen as if you constantly bit down, concerned about him. He wrapped his arms around you.

He lets out a heavy sigh, “Not if I bleed out, sweetheart.” You take your weight off him and help him stand up. Your eyes take in the blood with horror on your face. He whispered his arms around you, “It's fine. I am okay.”

In the distance, he can see Sejanus approach them and he's too pissed at him to have a proper conversation right now. It seemed you shared the same sentiments because the moment Sejanus came close, you pushed him. He doesn't fall but the impact makes him take a few steps back.

“You! It's because of you and your stupid beliefs that you do nothing but whine about that has led to this! It led him to bleed, Sejanus! How will you pay for his blood!? Fucking get out of here to your ma before I recreate the fucking wound on you!”

Sejanus flinches, looking betrayed. Sejanus looked at Snow but he had to look away because he simply was so proud of you. He was proud that you stood up, he was proud that you voiced what he wanted to say. He was also amused because thinking of your origins, you should have similar beliefs with Sejanus.

But you were simply concerned about Coriolanus, nothing else. It made Snow feel grateful he had you. You cared and you didn't try to hide it.

Sejanus doesn't try to say anything else. He walks with his head down to the car in which his ma and pa were waiting. Coriolanus pulls you back into his arms. “You didn't have to be so harsh,” he whispered, despite the fact he had enjoyed it so, so much.

“Who's the tribute that hurt you?”

“The boy is dead,” Coriolanus glees, unable to make himself look sane. He was bleeding out, adrenaline still pumping in his veins and with you in the equation. He felt drunk. “I enjoyed killing him.”

Coriolanus doesn't find out about your reaction to his confession as the toll of his blood loss takes over and his vision darkens. He goes unconscious.

✧ ▬▭▬ ▬▭▬ ✦✧✦ ▬▭▬ ▬▭▬ ✧

He groans as he wakes up from the darkness. A dull pain in his back. He recognized that an IV needle was stuck in his arm. His shirt was off, and the wound was stitched. He looked around to find out that he was in the lab, and Dr. Gaul was present, looking straight at him from a corner. He was proud of the fact he didn't flinch. He swallowed the nervousness, and greeted, “Dr. Gaul.”

“Mr. Snow,” She greets back, her voice booming, “Never thought I would see Crassus’ boy in the arena.”

He doesn't say anything, nor does he look at her. His gaze turns towards the glass containers filled with greenish liquid and some kind of horrid experimentation. Dr. Gaul drawls on, “Do you want to be like your father, Mr. Snow? Then it's essential to accept what human beings are and what it takes to control them.”

For tonight, Coriolanus Snow was a murderer. He had to accept that, he took a life for his survival, but he enjoyed it. He vaguely remembers confessing it to you. Horror fills him, he fucked up whatever he had with you for sure. Killing someone for your survival was one thing, even Sejanus can't hate him for it. But enjoying it? Feeling powerful as he felt someone's life draining out. It felt like drinking an elixir to Snow.

He can't imagine the disgust you felt when he admitted it. He can't- how will he fix this- he wipes away the tears staining his cheeks. He would beg and grovel, he would lie if you bring it up.

Dr. Gaul misinterpreted the misery on his face. “You did what you had to, Mr. Snow.” Then she begins to walk away, a clear dismissal.

“Yes,” he replied, cordially, “I am aware.”

✧ ▬▭▬ ▬▭▬ ✦✧✦ ▬▭▬ ▬▭▬ ✧

He enters the penthouse; he stops in his tracks as he sees you sitting down in the dining space. Waiting for him. It was extremely late at night by now and you were here, awake. Coriolanus was touched by how freely you showed your care through your actions. From the meal (orange chicken and rice) you gave in the car till now. You cared. So openly, so fiercely.

Unlike him.

His care was always hidden. “Dove,” he whispered, a nickname for you like Coryo was for him. Perhaps his care wouldn't be concealed under layers anymore. Your head snaps towards him, and with long strides, you meet his arm. You are careful about your hand placement, making sure not to hurt him or put pressure on his wound.

“Coryo,” you rasped out, “Coryo, Coryo, Coryo.” You bury your face in his chest and for a moment he thought you were sobbing but you were just taking deep breaths in. He holds you tighter, suffocating you, anchoring you like you did for him. He didn't care that it pulled his stitches.

“Hi,” he whispered sheepishly, he forgot about the arena, the murder, Sejanus, and Dr. Gaul. He remembers you and only you.

“Hi,” you giggle back, your eyes teary. “You're here,” you whispered, “Real or not?”

He let out a small laugh, “I am not a hallucination, dove.”

You shrugged in his arms, “Lack of sleep can cause them. For all I know this is a dream and you're still under the care of that bitch.”

“I am here,” he emphasized his words with a kiss on your hairline. He looks into your eyes and sees how real all of this is. He can make you his reality. He needs to seize it. He needs to control his fate.

He realized you hadn't questioned him about the blood on his hands. He was going to bring it up if you weren't. He would let his confession remain buried if that's what you wanted. No need to unleash his demons onto you.

He guides you to his bedroom, but he gently presses you to the door. He has you in between him and the door. There's no escape, so much for not unleashing his demons when he's a devil in disguise himself. He nuzzles your neck and lets out a desperate, needy noise.

His tongue peeks out to lick a strip of your neck. You gasp, your tense body melting into him. He holds you by grabbing your waist with his hands. “I need you,” he whispered, he pulled back and looked at you with pathetic, puppy eyes; impossible to say no to.

“Give yourself to me, Coryo.”

It's your fault. He will give himself to you. Demons and all. Bloody, pathetic, insane Coriolanus Snow, he's yours now.

“Yours,” he groaned, pressing wet, desperate kisses onto your neck, you move your head to give him more space, more skin to mark. He growls near your ear, letting the past high rush into his veins. The hold he has on your waist gets tighter. You were in different clothes, your academy uniform changed into a simple pink top and jeans.

You let out a moan when he bites into your neck, breaking the skin to form a dark bruise. You pressed into him like a whore. You whine, “I should let you kill more men if it gets you like this.”

He freezes. He then leans back. His lips parted to take in breaths, his pupils blown and his cheeks a deep wine red. He looks debauched and sexy. It drives you insane. You don't say anything further, waiting for his reaction.

He breaks out a feral, primal grin on his face. You were perfect for him. God, you were. He let his fingers wove themselves into your locks and he tugged hard. He relishes the whine that leaves your lips. It didn't hurt, no, he could see the same insane lust in your eyes that he felt in his blood.

He crashed his lips onto your soft ones. Both of your teeth clashed against each other as he kissed for the first time in his life. It was in no way perfect. Too much tongue, uncoordinated, sloppy, wet and so, fucking filthy. His blood rushed down his body as he sucks at your tongue, his fingers pulling at your hair tighter, moving your head so he could fuck your lips with his tongue. His free hand went near your neck. It would be easy to take your life, he realized.

He felt your pulse under his fingertips. His hand around your neck, it was there but he didn't put any pressure on it. His lips attached to yours still engaged in a fight for dominance, and neither of you was willing to give in. Each chasing your own, selfish pleasure through the kiss. He disappointingly understood he would never be able to live a life with you dead. Your beating heart gave him the same rush taking a life did.

You made him feel alive simply by existing.

Your existence is his survival.

You're his.

He groans into your mouth as he comes to the realization. He breaks the kiss, a string of saliva connecting you both. He immediately went back for a few more kisses, already craving your lips like it was cocaine, chasing the chocolate taste on your tongue.

You gasp, taking in much-needed air as both break away again. His hand which was on your neck, travels to your jeans to unbutton them. Your hand holds his wrist before he can slide your pants off.

“Am bleeding,” you whispered, your eyes wide.

He had seen plenty of blood today, what's more? “Don't care,” he grunts out, he slides your jeans down, along with your panties letting it pool around your ankles. You kick them aside on the floor.

He buried his face into your shoulder, as you took a deep breath. “Can I?” He asked, his hands waiting for permission as his blunt nails dug into your thighs. Frankly, he doesn't even want to ask. And one day, he won't have to.

“Yes, Coryo,” you consent, your voice breathless and needy.

He was glad you couldn't see the satisfied grin on his face. He ignored his aching cock as his fingers slowly traveled up to between your soaked cunt. He pressed his palm against your pussy, letting his hand be colored by your blood and juices. He begins to move his palm up and down your folds and you moan, oversensitive. You begin to rut into his hand and he warningly squeezed your thigh.

“No,” he barks out, a sudden slap on your pussy making you cry out. “Behave, dove.”

You let out a whine, and Coriolanus doesn't want to handle a brat when he's feeling heaven for the first time. He slaps your pussy again, making you jolt. He whispered, dark and menacing, “Behave, bitch.”

“Coryo,” you moan.

“That's it, dove. Let me play with you,” he encourages as his fingers begin to touch your pussy, feeling up your slick folds, your slit through which you leaked out thick goops of blood he couldn't care less about.

His thumb finds your clit, he realized the bud was the source of pure bliss to you from the way you gasped as he began to play with it. His thumb roughly circles around the pearl, and you whine out his name, your hips bucking in again like a whore.

He allows you to do this, knowing that your brain is mush from the pleasure. He begins to bite into your neck, creating more dark hickeys that luckily the academy uniform will hide. He lets out a groan as he slips inside the first digit of your warm, slick, and tight gummy walls. His cock throbs with need. But he won't fuck you so soon, with everything still new to him.

“Fuck,” you cuss, your eyes rolling back. You would have fallen on the floor if it wasn't Coriolanus supporting you. He fucks into your warmth with a single finger, unsure if he should put another one in.

“More,” you whine and he listens. He gently thrust another of his long and dainty fingers inside of your bloody, wet cunt. He moans as he feels your walls pulsate against his digits.

“You feel perfect around my fingers. Look at your pussy squeezing them like a vice. Will your cunt squeeze my cock like that too?” He whines into your ears, growing desperate, his hips rutting into your side. The friction of his pants on his dick was dry but gratifying. He knew he spoiled his pants with pre-cum. He didn't care. He hears you whimper, unable to answer his sinful words.

“Coryo! Slow down!” You cry out as his fingers fuck into you at a rough pace, he wasn't sure what felt good for you or not. He listens, slowing down considerably, he decides to crook his fingers and finds a spongy spot pressing into his fingertips.

You let out a scream of pleasure, and Coriolanus has to use his free hand to shut you up. He pressed his palm onto your lips, muffling your noises. You liked him pressing into that spot. He crooked his fingers even more, rubbing the spot. He giggles as he sees your eyes glaze over like a dumb whore, your cunt spasming around his digits, close to cumming.

He begins to speed up again, and he knows it hurts a bit for you. He couldn't bring himself to care, your pussy is his. He will do whatever he wants. But as he feels the vibration of your desperate whine on his hand. He pressed wet kisses along your jaw, whispering apologies.

“Cum on my fingers, dove,” he whispered, his fingers hitting your g-spot with each thrust, his hips rutting into the side of your body. He was close to snapping himself, for you he was willing to cum in his pants like a stupid boy.

His thumbs find your clit again, now he gets even more feral. The pleasure borderlines to pain, and you drool, your chin covered in saliva which he licks up without shame. “It's fine,” he coos, “Cum, baby.”

He rubbed at your g-spot, his thumb flicking your clit. The coil in your stomach unwraps itself, ecstasy filling your veins as your cunt spasms around his digits. You cum from his fingers, your mind blank. Your eyes rolled back.

He groans, feeling his cock twitch and cums in his pants. It was surprisingly the best orgasm he ever had. He couldn't believe he came untouched. He couldn't find himself to be embarrassed about it, not when he has to pick up your pieces.

“You here with me?” He asked softly, gazing into your glossy eyes. You nod back, weak. He guides you to his bed. “Let me clean you up,” he whispered, kissing your forehead.

He quickly changed into his pajamas, cleaning his hand clean of your blood. He takes a wet towel and cleans up the bloody mess smearing your thighs. You let out a whine when the towel touches your pussy. You were sensitive after your orgasm. He shushed you, “It's fine, doll.”

And he cleans you up before he helps you wear your panties. He doesn't make you wear the jeans as he doesn't want you to have any sensory overload right now. He goes to the kitchen and brings you a glass of water. He helps you drink the full glass, encouraging you softly.

He even puts a towel under you, in case you bleed through your pad. He feels the tiredness weighing him down and he lays down in bed beside you. The games will be there tomorrow. But he will only have this night with you once.

“You're everything, Coryo,” he hears you whisper, your throat hoarse even after drinking water.

You're his everything too.

NEXT PART

[theapangea]

Hanging on the Telephone

Lip Gallagher x innocent!reader

Part of the Every Little Touch Series

Summary: Phone sex with Lip Gallagher

W/C: 2k

Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI!!! Male and female masturbation

A/N: I know I've been MIA but here is a little Lip smut for making you wait so long you little pervs ;). This was a fun one to write and maybe there will be a part two to this story! This is part of my Every Little Touch Series with Lip x innocent!reader. My requests is currently closed but when it does open please feel free to suggest any ideas you have for this story or another one. Love you cuties!! <3

Finally you murmur, shuffling your snow covered boots through the carpeted floor. Struggling to strip your coat and shoes off at the same time. Trying to work quickly as the stale air of the house makes you start to sweat under your several layers.

Eyes sleepy, heavy, ready to collapse onto themselves as the coat and boots are soon forgotten about, taking the last several steps to your bed before plopping face first into the mattress. The plush blanket muffling your scream as you release all the built up stress from the stupid little day you are having. Though the scream seems not to be working.

Rolling over onto your back, arms laying delicately over your mid section. Eyes fixated on the ceiling, the weight on your shoulders grows heavy as the strain builds behind your eyes making it tougher to breathe. Cursing silently at your stupid, sad, pathetic fucking life. A small stream of tears trickle down your temples, squeezing your eyes sharply together, wishing everything and everyone away. 

Just need a little peace.

Just need a little release.

Taking a deep, slow breath as you let your mind wander. Rubbing your thighs together, the buzzing runs through your thoughts, suddenly landing on Lip. His causoled fingers running down your delicate skin. Absentmindedly touching the same spots he did while you continue to let your mind run wild. 

Breath hitches as your fingers grace the lining of your jeans. Arching your back as you imagine Lip placing small kisses down the side of your neck, a trail of wet warmth and deep bruising. Not really thinking much into what you are actually doing. But you missed his touch, even if you have only felt it once. Missed the way he made you feel, wanting to feel that way every single day of your life. Desperately wanting to feel that release again, wanting him to send you over the edge. 

The vibrating in your back pocket makes you jump from your skin. Almost as if someone has caught you in the act of thinking about the shared moment with Lip and what that would ultimately lead to. 

Lifting your hips in the air, your toes digging into the carpet as your hand struggles to grip the small device from the bottom of your pocket. The vibration is still buzzing, sending a quivering through your body. Finally pulling the device free, flipping the phone open to see Lip’s name displayed on the small screen and behind it a blurry picture you took of him on last year’s school trip to Cloud Gate (the big shiny bean in Chicago).

Instantly pushing the answer button and placing the phone to your ear. A half-whisper greeting escapes you as you wiggle your way to the top of your bed. Feeling a little embarrassed to be talking to Lip after you almost let yourself get off on the thought of him.

“Whatcha doing?’ Lip questions from the other end, you can hear the brush of smoke that hits the receiver.

“Currently,” Pausing for dramatic effect, “Succumbing to my self loathing, waiting for the universe to end it all.” You force out a life to make light of the situation.

His low chuckle as a response sends a shiver through your body, igniting the fire that grows between your legs. 

A smile lamenting itself firming onto your face. Lip has that effect on you, making this life feel a little less lonely. “And what might the famous Lip Gallagher be doing right now?” You ask, picking at the dirt underneath your nails. 

“Ya’know, just been thinking.”

“About what?” You inquire, hoping you already know the answer.

Stuttering over his words as he tries to form them into sentences, feeling a bump in his throat as he doesn’t know exactly how to say it, “Ab-about the other d-day…about you.”

Heat rises immediately to your cheeks, a full breath filling your lungs until they burn. A huge smile engulfing your features as you silently giggle to yourself. Happy beyond belief that he was thinking about you. 

“Yeah?” Is all you can muster to say as the air has fully exited your chest, leaving you laying there, basking in the bliss.

Carding a hand through his messy hair as he takes another drag of his cigarette. Lip’s body sprawled out over his bed as his voice hitches, “Can’t stop thinking about it.”

The words are music to your ears as you happily tap your feets against the soft comforter. He’s been thinking about you, thinking about what you both did together and he’s talking to you about it. 

“Have you been thinking about it?” He speaks softly into the phone, finally realizing that you have been silent a little too long.

“Maybe…” You’re a little embarrassed to admit it. Not because you didn’t want it to happen or that you are embarrassed of Lip in any way. You’ve just never been comfortable talking about any form of sex or pleasure before, especially talking about it with someone else. 

Another puff of smoke hits the receiver as you can hear Lip shift on the other end, “Any particular part?” He hums.

You’re hesitant at first, doing this stuff in person is one thing but having to talk about it is a whole other beast you’d never thought you’d have to overcome. But you want to talk about it with Lip, he makes you feel comfortable and wanted. He makes this experience way less scary than you had originally thought.

“Your hands,” You finally confess, the heat rising rapidly to your cheeks as you pull your legs to your chest, doing anything to hide.

He purrs against the receiver. “Where? Deep inside of you?”

“Lip.” You whine, embarrassed that he just said that out loud. He speaks about this stuff so plainly and bluntly that you almost don’t know how to act. Almost as if he gets a kick out of seeing you embarrassed.

“That’s exactly what I’ve been thinking about.” The words are heaven, laced in pure silk running perfectly over your body as the thought of Lip thinking about the way you felt under his grasp, the way his fingers curled expertly inside of you, the way you tasted, all innocent and pure. He can’t help not thinking about the way you relaxed under his touch and how he desperately wants to do it again. “Do you still feel that itch?”

The heat has not subsided yet from your cheeks as he keeps talking about it and you have to admit that the itch has truly never gone away. It was just in a deep little part of your brain, eagerly waiting for Lip to let it out. 

You hum as you stretch your legs out in front of you, squeezing your thighs together again.

“Like right now?”

Especially now.

“Are you going to do anything about it?” He questions. 

You huff, “I’m not really sure what to do.” You have to admit out loud which seems so silly at the moment. 

“It’s okay,” his tone is subtle, “‘member what I showed you?” 

Closing your eyes as his words whisper your mind into the amazing memory that you two share together. You could swear that you are currently there now, wrapped in Lip’s arms as he rubs your core into ecstasy. 

You hum against the phone, your tone is whiny as your other hand grabs at the rough fabric of your jeans. 

“Just touch yourself like that, tell me what you’re doing, how you’re feeling.” His voice calms you down.

Shaking your head as you murmur over the line, “Ok.”

Stumbling over your words as you struggle to take off your jeans while laying in bed, “I-I’m taking off m-my je-jeans…come on.” You angrily whisper to your jeans as you push them off.

Lip laughs on the other end at your struggle, able to picture you perfectly as the sounds of muffling come over the receiver. 

“I’m in my panties now.” You say to him.

He laughs again, this time more from the chest.

“Don’t laugh at me.” You whine, “I’m new to this.”

“Do you want me to talk instead?” He suggests.

“Yes, please,” You breathe a sigh of relief. Blessing that you won’t embarrass yourself any further. 

“One sec then,” Lip says before the phone goes silent. Jumping up quickly to rip off his shirt and jeans before grabbing the phone again, relaxing into the mattress. Lip’s hand is instantly on his cock when he gets back on the phone with you. “Ready.” He’s barely able to get out his words as his touch sends electricity through his body.

The pre-cum dripping slightly from his pulsing tip onto his stomach. He doesn't know how long he will last, his imagination has been getting him through the days, desperately wanting to touch every part of you, know every single detail.

You lightly breath out the word yeah, biting your lip in anticipation of what's to come next. 

“Slip your hand under your panties.” His almost demanding tone falls delicately on your ears. 

Your hand slips underneath your white, cotton panties. Fingers trailing over your mound, hesitant to touch too close to your burning center. A single whimper escapes you as you stop just short on meeting your needs.

“Good girl. Now touch that pretty little clit of yours for me.” Lip’s voice is paradise, guiding you on this journey of self-discovery. Begging, pleading for you to just slip your finger between your folds. 

The electric jolt of pleasure bursts through your body as your middle finger grazes over your sensitive nub. You whine heavily into the phone. Lip returns with a groan of his own, happily pleasuring himself, your whimpers are addicting as he strokes his aching cock. 

“How does it feel?” He purrs.

“Amazing.” Your chest falls as you sink a finger deeper between your folds, delicately teasing your entrance like Lip did before. Imagining that it’s his finger dipping graciously into your burning core. 

“But not as good as when I do it?” He questions, his words teasing you.

“Definitely not.” Grinding against your fingers, the confidence begins to trickle in as you try to talk dirty to him, “I wish it was you…touching me, your fingers deep inside of me.” Curling a finger into your dripping hole, struggling to accommodate your own finger this time. 

Adding more pressure to his grip as Lip’s hand falls down his length. Buckling his hips as he groans when you call his name, knowing that your holes are filled because of him. 

Lip’s name whispers from your mouth, between moans, whimper after whimper as he tells you to pick up speed, pumping your fingers deeper inside of your burning core. Back arching, fingers losing rhythm as you gasp one final time. White, hot flames filling your bloodstream as you scream Lip’s name into your empty room, cumming intensely onto your soaked fingers.

Lip follows you as he pumps faster and more rapidly as you say you’re picking up speed, face contorting into pure pleasure as one last pump sends him over the edge. The perfect white liquid shooting from his cock, landing onto his stomach. Stroking a couple more times as his breathes even out and a small laugh departs his lips

Your chest is heavy when the world starts to fall into place again. Cumming with you was absolutely the best sexual experience Lip has ever had.

The phone is quiet for a couple beats, neither of you knowing what to say or how to continue. 

And before either of you can continue a conversation, banging on the door from Lip’s end pulls you back to reality, “Lip, you're wastin’ all the minutes.” Fiona loudly calls from the other side of his locked door.

“Shit,” Lip curses from the other end, “I’ll see you at school tomorrow, ‘kay?” 

He hangs up with a quick goodbye.

And then it was reality staring you right in the face when you realized that you’d have to face Lip at school tomorrow. Fuck. 

~~~

Let me know what you think!! My replies don't work but I am more than happy to talk to you in my inbox or messages. Thank you for supporting me !! I LOVE YOU!!!

[brookghaib-blog]

Whispers of the past

Pairing: Hoshina Soshiro x reader

an: I will be turning this into a story, but i'm still navegating into the turn this will take, i'll warn that this will be more interesting in pt.2, I just wanted to give u a little something :)

Summary: Vice Captain Hoshina Soshiro reminisces about his high school days with his lost love, Y/N, who went missing under mysterious circumstances. As he stands on the frontline, memories of their time together haunt him, fueling his determination to protect others and never give up hope.

pt.2

--

Hoshina's pov:

The city lay in ruins, the aftermath of the kaiju attack evident in every shattered building and scorched street. As Vice Captain of the Japan Defense Force, it was my duty to remain vigilant, to lead my team with unwavering resolve. But in the quiet moments between battles, my mind often wandered to a time when life was simpler and love felt eternal.

We were high school sweethearts, Y/N and I. She was the light in my life, her laughter a melody that could brighten even the darkest days. I still remember the first time I saw her, standing by the school gates with a book in her hand, her eyes sparkling with curiosity and warmth.

"Hey, you're in my chemistry class, right?" I had approached her, trying to sound casual despite the nervous flutter in my chest.

She looked up, a smile spreading across her face. "That's right. You're Hoshina Soshiro, the kendo club captain."

"Yeah," I replied, scratching the back of my head. "I was wondering if you wanted to study together sometime. You seem really smart, and I could use all the help I can get."

She laughed, a sound that would become my favorite in the world. "Sure, I'd love to. How about after school today?"

From that moment on, we were inseparable. We spent countless hours studying together, sharing our dreams and fears, finding comfort in each other's presence. Our favorite spot was the old cherry blossom tree in the school courtyard, where we'd sit and watch the petals fall like snow, lost in our own world.

"Soshiro," Y/N said one afternoon, her head resting on my shoulder as we lay beneath the tree. "Do you ever wonder what the future holds for us?"

I squeezed her hand, drawing strength from her touch. "I do. And I know that whatever happens, as long as we're together, we'll be okay."

She smiled, her eyes filled with a mixture of hope and uncertainty. "Promise me we'll always be there for each other, no matter what."

"I promise," I whispered, sealing our vow with a kiss.

But then, one day, she was gone. Vanished without a trace, leaving a gaping hole in my heart. The days turned into weeks, the weeks into months, and still, there was no sign of her. I threw myself into my training, hoping that by becoming stronger, I could somehow find her, protect her, bring her back.

Years passed, and I rose through the ranks to become Vice Captain, my dedication to the Japan Defense Force unwavering. But the memory of Y/N never faded. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw her smile, heard her laughter, felt the warmth of her hand in mine.

As I stood among the ruins, the weight of my responsibilities heavy on my shoulders, I couldn't help but wonder where she was, if she was safe, if she thought of me as often as I thought of her. The not knowing was the hardest part, the uncertainty that gnawed at my soul.

But I held onto hope, clung to the belief that one day, I would find her. Until then, I would fight. For her, for the promise we made, for the future we dreamed of under the cherry blossom tree.

"Y/N," I whispered into the night, the stars above a silent witness to my vow. "I'll find you. No matter how long it takes, no matter where you are, I'll bring you back."

And as the city began to rebuild, as the battle against the kaiju continued, I carried her memory with me, a beacon of light guiding me through the darkness.

[lovelytsunoda]

sleigh ride // lance stroll

summary: christmas has never been his holiday. but she adores it, and he wants to make this christmas one that she won't forget.

pairing: lance stroll x fiancee!reader

warnings: marriage proposals, fluffy lance, it's super duper cheesy, lance quotes emily henry's "beach read", where can i get a lance

the snow fell down on niagara falls in scattered flurries, the waterfalls the town used as their namesake almost frozen solid in motion as they spilled into lake ontario. the sun was setting, with niagara-on-the-lake doused in an orange-pink glow as the couple ran out of the b'n'b, giggling hand in hand.

"lance, where are we going?" she giggled, mitten-clad hand clutched in her boyfriend's as he pulled her along the snowy sidewalk.

"just trust me, but you'll need to close your eyes." lance stroll insisted, turning to face her, pressing his warm lips to her rapidly cooling forehead. "we're almost there."

"if you say so." she chortled, closing her eyes and following lance as he guided her, gentle flakes falling against her knitted hat.

the breeze was cold, cutting through the many layers that they both wore as lance urged her forwards. her mind was swimming with all the possibilities lance could have come up with, but she couldn't settle on any.

christmas had never been his thing. he was raised jewish, and she had celebrated hannukah with his family before, so why would he celebrate christmas anyways? the answer was simple: because she enjoyed it. he could convince himself to embrace a little more of the christmas spirit than normal when she was around, when she insisted on putting that stunning tree in their living room, or buying elf ears for their dog.

"okay, you can open your eyes now."

she opened her eyes, instantly covering her mouth to stop the delighted scream from coming out and scaring the horses. sitting in front of her were two stunning black mares, towing a snow-white sleigh, decorated with white glitter and snowflakes, a plush throw blanket thrown over the bench in the back.

"lance, this is incredible!"

lance beamed, glowing under the streetlamps as he pulled open the metal gate door. "milady." he giggled, reaching for her gloved hand to help her into the sleigh.

she curled into him on the bench, lance fluffing the blanket out behind and over their bodies before the well-dressed man sat in the driver's seat of the sleigh flashed them a smile, and the horses began their slow trot down the cobblestones.

she slipped her gloves off, taking lance's cold hand in hers as she played with his fingers, head resting comfortably on his shoulder. her breath crystallized in the air, snowflakes falling into the sleigh and promptly melting on the winter mats on the ground.

lance himself was fidgety, the tiffany and co. box burning a hole in the pocket of his parka. he was so anxious about asking that he'd almost done it that morning, over coffee and croissants at breakfast.

but she deserved more than that. she deserved something meaningful, something special (not that there was anything wrong with a little bit of privacy and keeping it lowkey, he just wanted to have a great proposal story to pass down to their kids. after y/n told him that her father proposed to her mother by saying 'we need to talk', he vowed that his proposal would be special).

she turned her head, pressing a frosty kiss to his warm skin. "i love you, lance."

he smiled, burying his nose in the top of her knitted hat. " i love you more, pretty girl. i've got another surprise for you, if you're up for it."

she looked up at him, hair falling in front of her face, skin pink from the cold as she smiled back at him. "what kind of surprise?"

"you'll see. it's just around this corner, love."

the sleigh pulled up to a small gazebo, cords of string lights wrapped around the weathered wooden beams to light up the small space, now that the sun was behind the clouds, the last dregs of daylight hovering in the space between night and day.

lance got to his feet, opening the sleigh gate before the driver could even get down from his perch. with her long fleece scarf hanging down to her knees, she daintily descended from the sleigh, hand in hand with her boyfriend as he led her towards the gazebo.

the snow beneath their feet was dusted with deep purple rose petals, some small tea light candles on the steps. as they got closer to the gazebo, she could see the small lightbox letters, lit up in a warm, soft yellow as they got closer, spelling out two words.

marry me.

"oh, lance." she breathed, at a loss for words as she anxiously wringed her hands.

she could hear the wooden boards creaking behind her as lance sunk down to one knee, reaching into his pocket for the turquoise box. he rested the box on his knee, frozen hands shaking as he pulled it open.

"i really should have thought this through a little better. i'm cold as shit." he giggled nervously. "but i know christmas means a lot to you, and i wanted to make this as special as i could."

she gasped, hands coming up to cover her mouth as she saw the ring: a single princess-cut diamond resting on a silver band, two small pink gemstones holding the center gem in place.

"y/n, i'm head over heels for you, and i always have been. every morning i wake up next to you, and i think, this could all go away. the racing, the money, the fame, all of it. but as long as i had you by my side, i wouldn't care. as long as i had you, i'd be happy. because you make me so happy, y/n. you remind me of all the good in the world, all the reasons to keep going. in the words of emily henry, yes, i've read your romance books, 'when i watch you sleep, i feel overwhelmed that you exist'. man, she got that right. i feel overwhelmed with love, and with care. and some days, i wonder why you chose me when you could have had any man you wanted. y/n y/'l/n. pretty girl. love of my life." lance sniffled, wiping at the tear that was threatening to fall into his stubble. "will you marry me?"

"yes!" she shouted, her voice echoing across the clearing as she started to giggle. "yes, of course i'll marry you." her eyes started to sting, tears pricking the corners of her vision, so overcome with love for man on his knees in front of her.

she sunk to her knees as well, the frost on the gazebo cold against the knees on her jeans. she clasped lance's hands in her own, pulling him in for a gentle kiss before he slipped the ring onto her finger, foreheads resting against each other.

"thank you so much for saying yes. i can't think of a day in the foreseeable future that i don't want to spend with you by my side."

"oh, lance." she laughed through her tears of joy. "don't make me cry."

"i'm not trying to, my love." he laughed, tears pricking at his eyes. "god, i just love you so much."

"i love you more." she laughed, tucking her arms around him, pulling him in for a hug before glancing down at the sterling silver on her finger.

lance kissed her hairline, holding her close and breathing in her scent.

if this was every day for the rest of his life, then he was wondering why he'd waited so long to ask.

TAGS:

@libraryofloveletters @magnummagnussen @lorarri @httpiastri @cartierre @sidcrosbyspuck @scuderiamh @oconso @thatsdemko @silversainz