#starlight library presents;
Text
Take a break | LS2
pairing: logan sargent x reader
summary: its launch day for williams and your boyfriend so overwhelmed and tired you decide to give him a quick pick me up
warnings: smut: oral (f & m receiving), sorta sub!logan & dom!reader, no protection (wrap your willy sillies!), praise kink, breath play (didn't intend for that one), breeding kink, basically porn with a semi plot??
a/n: uh, haven't written smut in a long time let alone f/m smut so PLEASE be gentle with me here! also i'll admit, writing scene with eating out is NOT my strong suit but i'm trying to get better! again, no proofreading, we die like men!
wc: 2.8K
Launch days were something you weren’t particularly familiar with for a multitude of reasons. The first reason was you hadn’t been a long time fan of F1 as you had recently gotten into the sport a little into the 2023 season more as something to have on in the background. The second reason is because you were so new to this world of motorsports, you had no idea what the pre-season would entail. The third reason is because the only reason you got into the world of F1 was because of your boyfriend, Logan Sargent.
You happened to be on a trip with some friends in Miami even after hearing many horror stories about how Miami usually ruins friendships. That was not you and your friends though. Instead you and your friends had made a very important note to have dedicated alone time so you all didn’t end up kill each other and it was proving to be a great key to this vacation. During your shopping, you had bumped into someone and turned around to apologize the same time Logan did. The two of you laughed and went your separate ways. You had told your friends about the encounter and how you regretted not continuing the conversation but you were too embarrassed. They reassured you that they would find this mysterious blonde man for you.
None of you had to try very hard as you and your friends decided to go to a club Sunday night after the Grand Prix and it just happened to be the same one a lot of the drivers ended up going to. You ran into Logan again, literally, and this time you actually kept the conversation going. One thing lead to another (as well as finding out he was an F1 driver and causing you to go down this rabbit hole to understand his work more) and by summer break you had been on four dates before he officially asked you to be his partner. By winter break, you were comfortable enough for him to announce the relationship and even with the mixed reviews from fans neither of you let it affect your relationship. If anything, it made your relationships stronger. It helped that Alex and Lily were super supportive and helpful the moment you two went public.
Lily especially. She had been nothing but kind and supportive the moment you two went public. She went on about how sweet Logan is and how she was ecstatic for him to finally have met someone who wanted him for him and not because he was a famous world driver. She was also over the moon to have a WAG on the team (yes she even took the time to explain what was a WAG was to you) and that she finally had someone to sit with during races and chat with during events like this.
Which is how you found yourself sorta following Lily around like a lost puppy to really grasp the rope of things before the two of you found yourself huddled together as the launch happened. It was fun. There was a kid named William outside with a sign that said ‘My name is William too!’ They actually brought him in for the launch and even had him sit in the car. You smiled seeing the kid beam at the two of them and Logan happily chatting with him when he wasn’t pulled away to be in front of the camera.
After the launch, Alex and Logan were heading down to Central Park to continue filming so you and Lily decided to have a little afternoon together. You two went shopping, had lunch, and just explored as the two of you chatted about anything and everything. You guys were stopped a bit for pictures, which was expected with Lily, but you? That surprised you but also warmed your heart and you happily took the photos. Then you two arrived at the hotel and parted ways before the meet and greet where you’d probably be off to the side with her once again just watching and interacting with fans.
You were mindlessly flipping through channels on the TV when you heard a faint whirling noise before the door was opened. Looking over you saw your boyfriend and a smile tugged to your lips. Shifting, you sit next on the edge of the bed as Logan comes padding over. The smile turns into a small frown seeing the state of him. “You okay?” You ask. He grunts in response as he stands between your legs and you rub his arms soothingly.
“Come sit,” you gently pull Logan down next to you. Immediately, the American is pulling you into his lap and burying his face into your neck. Running your fingers through his hair, you kiss his temple gentle as he grumbles about how long days like this were and how tiring they were and he wanted nothing more than to stay here. You bit your lip gentle wanting to reassure him that it would be over soon but knew he had so much more socializing to do and he was near his wits end.
Then, an idea hit you.
“Tell me more,” you comment as you wiggle out of his lap and kneel behind him to give him a massage. You feel him relax under your touch and you smile gently as you continue. It’s a nice gesture but it’s mainly a distraction. When he’s relaxed enough you pull away as he continues to ramble as you slide off the bed and move to stand between his legs. Gently pushing him on the bed Logan’s let out a small huff of a laugh as he tosses an arm over his eyes. Perfect. Stripping out of your pants and panties, you crawl onto the bed and swat his arm away. The second his arm is to his side you’re swinging a leg over, trapping his head between his thighs and sitting down.
It takes a millisecond for Logan to realize what’s going on before you groan feeling his tongue on your clit. Your hands fly to his hair for purchase as he happily runs his tongue over your clit. Long slow strokes before short kitten licks. It sends a shiver of pleasure up your body as you buck your hips forward. His hands quickly find your thighs gripping tightly as he traps you. You tilt your head back groaning loudly as you roll your hips as you two find your rhythm quickly since Logan loves being between your thighs.
You let praises fall from your lips between the moans and gasps falling from your face. It should be illegal with how good Logan is from your clit to your cunt as he opens you up with his tongue. Even though you guys haven’t been together for long he had made it his mission to learn your body inside and out. How you liked him switching between slow licks and fast licks. How your eyes rolled when he teased your clit with circles before sucking. How your hips bucked when he slipped his tongue in and slowly fucked you open. How if he tilted his head back just enough he could get deeper brushing against your g-spot, causing you to throw your head back and let out the most delicious sounds. How if he switched the routine up it drove you mad and close to your orgasm which he was very much intending to do but that’s not on your agenda.
Your chest was heaving as you felt the familiar coil starting to form in your abdomen. You force yourself to let go of his hair to wedge your fingers under his and pries his hands off your thighs before you lift yourself up. Looking down, you wish you could take a picture but a mental one will do. Logan’s hair was wild against the sheets, eyes wide and pupils blown. His face was flushed a beautiful shade of pink and his mouth and chin was shiny with your juices. His fingers twitched in your hands as he stared up at you neither one daring to move as he whines. He became such a beautiful mess so quickly for you.
“Yes?”
“I need—” he gulps slightly.
“You need what?” You tease.
His mouth opens and then closes as he tries to find the words. You know exactly what he wants and you’re tempted to give it to him, “stay,” you command as your grip on his hands loosens so you can easily move off of him and slink off the bed and onto the floor.
“Sit up,” you say while stroking the inside of his thigh and he does looking down at you. Looking up at him, you wrap your lips around the tip of his cock and he groans tipping his head back slightly. You swirl your tongue around the tip before flattening your tongue along the underside of his cock. Hallowing your cheeks, you start to bob your head. You watch his hands start to go to your hair but stop knowing better than to touch without permission so he grabs the sheets as if it’s a life line. You place your hands on his thighs to steady yourself as you continue prepping yourself. He’s babbling above you begging for more. He’s not specific with what he wants but that’s typical for him.
When you’re relaxed you happily take him down your throat, nose against his navel, and Logan throws his head back letting out a moan. Internally, you smirk at how loud he was. Usually he tried to be reserved and letting himself be focused on your pleasure but today was about him. You pull off to the tip before going straight back down and he tenses to keep himself still knuckles white from how hard he was holding onto the sheets. You continue for a bit longer before you pull off with a pop before standing.
“Lay down,” you say gesturing to the pillows and Logan scrambles laying on his back as his head hits the pillow. You wince for him since he was so close to hitting the headboard but it was a miracle he didn’t. That would’ve been one way to kill the mood and end the day for sure. Getting onto the bed, you straddle your boyfriend who’s breathing heavily from anticipation. Smirking at the mess you’ve already made of him, you grab the base of his cock and line yourself up before sliding down.
In unison you both groan as you put your hands on his chest for leverage. Once you’re bottomed out you take a moment to adjust. You start to move your hips in small circles sucking your bottom lip between your teeth as Logan turns his head to the side, groaning again.
“Babe I—”
“Shhh, I know. It’s okay,” you murmur as you run your hands over his chest, “I got you. Just lay there and let me hear all your pretty noises. Can you do that for me?”
Logan whines in response again.
“Logan.”
“Yes,” he breaths out, “Yes I—I can do that.”
“Good boy.”
Raising your hips you sink back down and tilt your head back. It’s been a while since you two have actually had time to have sex and it felt like the first time all over again. Just with how well he filled you up and it felt like a punch to the gut (pun intended…maybe). You start out with this slow rhythm hearing how Logan groaned and moaned under you whining and asking for more.
You work yourself on his cock picking up the pace as you go. You lean back, gasping at the new angle as your hands find purchase on his thighs. “Oh fuck—” you manage out between the moans. “Yes, fuck yes baby so good.” You ramble on as his head tosses to the side, hands gripping the pillows, the sheets, anything that isn’t you.
“I—fuck babe—please—” Logan gasps.
“Please what?”
“Let me touch you. Fuck. Babe. Please. Please please please,” he begs, “need to touch you. Please, shit, babe you look so good riding me, please,” He begs, “been so good for you.”
“Such a good boy,” you purr out, “okay.”
His hands fly to your hips. His eyes trained on you. How your lips are parted. The slight sweat starting to form on your forehead as your hair sticks to it. How your eyes are fluttering close.
“Let me move. Please baby,” he begs, “you’ve done so much work,” he’s rambling, “wanna make you feel good. Please let me make you feel good. God fuck babe I wanna make you feel good.”
You’re lost in your own little world as Logan rambles on. You’re so close of finding that spot and you shift to lean forward, hands back on his chest. One hand fumbles but it covers Logan’s mouth as you continue, slamming your hips down on him. Your eyes go wide and you see stars when you find it, throwing your head back as you continue. “Fuck—oh right there. Shit—” you moan out as you fall into an endless cycle of moans, groans, and cursing. You can feel Logan’s lips against your hand still moving but between your own noises and the absolutely filthy obscene noises you two were making it was drowned out.
Your body is on fire. Your legs are straining and you’re getting tired but you continue. You feel the coil forming once again and your hand drops to Logan’s throat as you wrap your hand around, squeezing slightly. He lets out a strangled gasp mostly out of shock before he moans. “You—fuck—” you breath heavily, “yes move.”
Logan did not need to be told twice. Gripping your hips tight enough that will surely leave bruises, not that you really minded, he snapped his hips up when you came down. You screamed - you’re pretty sure you did but you can’t be quiet to sure with the stars you were seeing and everything else drowning out expect Logan’s voice. He’s thanking you over and over, telling you how amazing you are and how you treat him so so well. He matches your pace and you can’t even prepare yourself as your orgasm is ripped out of you.
You grip his throat tighter and he lets out another strangled groan. Your body shakes as you continue riding him babbling about how good he’s fucking you, how pretty he is like this, how only you get to see him like this, and how only you can make him feel this good. He’s trying to speak but it’s hard and you manage to loosen your grip. He gasps for air before the words are slipping past his lips.
“Please. Oh god please let me cum. Please I’m so—I’m so fucking close. Babe. I need—” he chokes on air as tears form, “god please.”
You feel limp. You’ve slowed your own pace down but he continues with the pace. You manage an ‘yes, you can cum’ through moans and whines. It takes three more thrust before Logan’s spilling into you, head thrown back and groaning loudly as his eyes roll in the back of his head slightly. He continues to fuck you through his own orgasm before he finally comes down.
You’re both shaking slightly at this point. You force yourself to pull off of him, feeling his cum ooze out of you as you end up collapsing on top of Logan as the two of you catch your breath. Moving his hands to your hips, he gently massages them as he kisses the top of your head. You let your eyes slip close as your breathing returns to normal smiling to yourself as you listen to his heartbeat. “Better?” You ask finally breaking the comfortable silence.
“Much better. Thank you babe, I really needed that,” he says and plants a soft kiss to your hair.
“Of course. You know all you have to do is ask.”
Logan huffs a laugh out which earns an eye roll out of you. You turn your head so you can look at him and he’s smiling at you, leaning down to kiss your nose as you wiggle it. “I know,” he says, “I’m…working on it.”
“I know, and I’m proud. But with a schedule like this you have to be more keen on making sure you’re okay. Really.”
“I know. I know,” he nods as he speaks, “now come on, we gotta get cleaned up so we can go to dinner.”
“Dinner?”
“Yeah,” Logan blinks, “the meet and greet starts at six. So I thought we could grab an early dinner at a little mom and pops diner I found. Come on,” he gently sits up with you still on his chest. You squeak when he’s got his arms under your ass and shifting before you two are standing legs instinctively wrapping around his waist with a grin, “I’m paying this time.”
“You paid last time!” You argue as he laughs taking you both to the bathroom to get clean before dinner.
#starlight library presents;#logan sargeant x reader#logan sargent smut#ls2 x reader#ls2 smut#logan sargent x reader#formula 1 imagine#f1 smut#f1 x reader#f1 imagine#formula one smut#starlight library fanfics
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Starlight, Star Bright
Pairing: Darklina x Fem!Star Summoner!Reader
Summary: The arrival of the sun summoner - your darling Alina - changes everything for you and Aleksander.
Warnings [18+]: canon level violence and death, mentions of death, nightmares, use of sleeping tonics, anxiety, mentions of Luda x Reader x Aleksander, angst, smut, oral (fem receiving), fingering, mentions of masturbation, smidge of corruption/innocence kink, Alina had a strict and conservative upbringing
My Masterlist
Alina’s concentration face is rather adorable. Dark brows furrowed together, pink lips parted, and a tiny peek of her tongue can be seen at the corner of her mouth. It hadn’t been intentional - watching her like this. But the library at the Little Palace is one of your favourite places to hide from your duties and seeing her here feels like an unexpected treat.
Her concentration dissolves into frustration, plush lips pressing into a firm line, then emotion seems to overwhelm her. A redness has crept over her throat which bobs rapidly and her dark eyes blink in an embarrassed flurry. When you realise she’s holding back tears, you move towards her without thinking.
It’s only once you spot the mountain of books surrounding her, piled up over the desk in heaps, that you begin to suspect what has caused her distress.
“Good evening, Miss Starkov,” you say softly.
She looks up at you hurriedly and the action has tears filling her waterline which she quickly attempts blink away. A piece of your heart snaps away, quivering in your chest, aching at the thought of seeing tears rolling down her cheeks.
“Good evening, Lieutenant.”
“Shu isn’t the easiest language to learn, but once you understand the basics the rest will follow.”
A bright blush spreads over her cheeks and her gaze lowers to the open book in front of her. When you see her chin wobble slightly, your stomach twists, and you add,
“Can I offer you a recommendation?”
She looks up at you again, nodding slowly.
Moving over towards a nearby shelf, you search for a particular book, pulling it carefully from its place and settling it down in Alina’s lap.
“It’s a book of fables,” you explain quietly. She tilts her head, eyeing the cover. “It might seem a little childish, but I find it to be one of the best ways to introduce someone to a new language.”
She begins to turn the pages with infinite care, her delicate fingers tracing over the illustrations inside.
“Would-”
Her words falter.
“Yes?”
She shakes her head, a pretty blush warming her cheeks.
“No. It’s silly.”
“Alina-” Her eyes snap up to yours at the sound of her name from your lips and your own voice falters. “May I call you Alina?” She nods and you smile softly. “I want you to feel at home here, in the Little Palace. There’s nothing you can’t ask of me.”
From what you’ve heard from her tutors, Alina has been struggling with Grisha theory, alongside her physical training. Judging by the dark circles under her eyes and the way she pushes her food around her plate at dinner every night, she hasn’t been able to summon very well either.
Anything you can do to make her feel better, you vow to do it. Particular memories have concerns stirring in your stomach. For centuries, you had been by Aleksander’s side, masquerading as the Darkling’s otkazat’sya wife.
It was only when Aleksander presented his newest alias at court, General Kirigan, that you revealed your power to the world - Ravka’s only star summoner. The sudden pressure you felt to help your country, alongside the expectations of your fellow Grisha, had made you almost ill with worry. Everyone had hoped your light would have been able to destroy the Fold.
Alina squares her shoulders a little, seemingly drawing some confidence from your encouragement.
“Would you read it to me?” she asks.
There’s a small pause as you look at her, your expression softening at the sight of her looking so flustered.
“I’d love to.”
She smiles and the sight has the breath halting in your lungs. She shuffles back slightly as you sit down beside her, your fingers brushing against her clothed knee as you take the book from her lap.
“Each of the stories are only a handful of pages in length. I could read them in Shu first, then again in Ravkan - if you would like that?”
Her eyes widen, something hopeful glimmering in their dark depths.
“You don’t mind?” she asks shyly. You shake your head.
“Not at all.”
»»---------------------►
Reading to Alina soon becomes one of your favourite things in the world - a guilty pleasure of sorts to escape from the stress of helping Aleksander run the Second Army.
One night, she comes to your door with the book of Shu fables in her arms tucked against her chest.
“I couldn’t sleep,” she admits in a hoarse whisper and you wonder whether she has nightmares too. Instantly you take her hand, pulling her gently into your bedroom.
She settles at the head of your bed, plush pillows and velvet cushions bundled up around the two of you. With a flick of your fingers, you summon enough light to read by. Alina is entranced by your starlight, eyes wide as she stares up at the miniature constellations swirling above your heads.
As you read stories aloud in her mother’s language, Alina slowly inches her head down onto your lap so that she can watch the tiny stars shining down on you both. This provides you with the perfect opportunity to thread your fingers lightly through her hair. At your request, Genya has been taking care of Alina and her hair is much softer and fuller than when she first arrived at the Little Palace.
The darkness of her eyes offers a perfect reflection of your stars and every time you risk a glance at her you’re captivated by the sight. Some of the tension slips away from her body and a low, sleepy sigh falls from her lips. Her eyes flutter closed.
»»---------------------►
It isn’t surprising that the sun summoner loves to sit in the sunlight. After all, even before you could summon, you’ve always adored a starry night sky. But seeing Alina soak up the sun, her head tilted back, eyes closed, has your steps faltering as you watch her. She’s so beautiful like this, waiting for you at the foot of an oak tree in the grounds.
Aleksander is nearby, tending to the horses used by the two of them on their morning ride. Alina is sitting on his kefta, using it as a blanket to shield her legs from the cool dew of the grass beneath her.
When she notices your presence, a luminous smile brightens up her features. It isn’t long before the two of you have settled into your familiar rhythm. Alina lies down with her head in your lap whilst you read to her. The story you’ve selected for today is an unacknowledged favourite of Alina’s.
Once you’ve finished the story, you take a moment to admire Alina. Her eyes remain closed, lashes fanned over her cheekbones. There’s a sun kissed glow over her cheeks, her skin tone revitalised by her time in the sun - and her increase in summoning.
When her eyes open slowly, she blinks up at you, though you don’t shy away from her gaze. She smiles softly, sitting up slowly to face you.
“Can I ask you something?” she asks quietly, tucking a stray hair back from her face as the breeze drags at her dark locks.
Tilting your head aside, you study the nervous press of her lips and the way her eyes shift over the grass, avoiding your gaze. Then you nod slowly.
“In the story,” she begins, head inclined towards the book lying open in your lap. “The princess and the fairy… they get married.”
A subtle frown creases at your brows before you nod again.
“They… I’m not getting the translation wrong, am I? They’re both girls.”
“Yes, Alya. They’re both girls.”
“And that’s allowed?”
“I’m sure a few more conservative members of the nobility might have something to say about it, but yes, it’s allowed.”
Alina seems deep in thought, staring at a particular leaf as it is carried away by the breeze.
“Nadia flirts with girls,” she states.
“She does,” you agree.
“Sometimes, when I was in the First Army, someone would make a joke about two girls tumbling each other…” Her voice trails off slightly, her cheeks glowing a rosy pink with embarrassment as she adds, “But I didn’t know… girls actually do that with each other.”
You nod with a small smile, a knowing glimmer in your eyes.
“They do.”
The pink on her cheeks burns to a deep red, her mouth open with a question poised on her tongue. She’s adorable, innocent and flustered and curious. The sound of long grass rustling draws your attention over to Aleksander, who seems to be making his way towards you and Alina.
“Enjoying yourselves?” he asks with a tender smile, the affection in his gaze is obvious to you after years of learning to decipher his emotions.
When you glance back at Alina, there’s a spark of alarm in her eyes, widened as she looks almost pleadingly at you.
“I was just telling Alina about the trail around the lake,” you inform Aleksander. There’s a questioning tilt to his head, observing your lie instantly. Nevertheless, he nods and turns his attention onto her.
“Perhaps we could take that route on our next ride around the grounds.”
She smiles softly, shooting you a grateful look before she glances at Aleksander. Her smile widens when their eyes meet and she nods bashfully.
“I’d like that.”
»»---------------------►
“Healer! Is there a healer here!?”
Aleksander’s voice is hoarse, a guttural cry for help that has you stumbling to your feet, hurrying through the makeshift rooms of the Grisha sanctuary. Voices and the sound of frantic movement aid you in your search for him, your heart pounding in your chest as fright fills you.
“The best we have is a tailor,” someone says. “We were waiting for Luda.”
At the mention of your other lover’s name, the tidemaker’s words falter and you rush quickly towards them. Luda is lying limply in Aleksander’s arms, blood staining her clothing. He places her on a cot, smoothing her hair back once she’s settled.
“Luda,” you cry. “No.”
At the sound of your voice, Aleksander stands back, attempting to grasp your arm as you approach - to shield you from seeing her state. His hold is weak and you slip by him easily, sinking yourself onto the bed beside her.
Luda’s eyes flutter, the pain limiting her awareness, though she manages to hold your hand weakly. There’s a sickening twist in your stomach when you see the wound, blood flowing at a frightening speed. Tears fill your eyes as you smile softly at her, trying your hardest to be brave for her.
There are no other healers in the sanctuary. Even if you could staunch the bleeding, she has already lost too much blood and the damage looks too deep for a tailor to fix.
“It isn’t bad, milaya,” you assure her. “You just need some rest.”
Leaning forward, you press a gentle kiss to her forehead, cool to the touch yet damp with perspiration. Hovering over her, you wait for the sound of her next breath. It doesn’t come.
A broken cry catches in your throat, the beginning of a sob, as you sink onto the cold stone floor beside the cot. Hot tears spill over your cheeks, dripping down onto your lap as you curl in on yourself, shoulders shaking with the weight of your anguish.
The two of you had grown up in the same village. She had been the first person to see your starlight. Your first kiss. She’s the one who always soothes your heartbeat when it quickens with anxiety.
Luda had been the one to nudge you towards the mysterious Darkling, stating with flushed cheeks that she would not mind sharing you with such a handsome man. Innocently, you had laughed and shaken your head at her, completely unaware of Aleksander’s eyes on you both.
She had been so determined to gain an amplifier, to stay with you and Aleksander for as long as she could. Deep down, you know some part of her had craved a forever with you both. To see that slip away so quickly has your throat closing up with emotion.
“Just mortal,” Aleksander murmurs quietly.
Lifting your head, you manage to meet his gaze. He looks just as broken as you feel, his eyes filled with a grief so tangible you want to grasp hold of it, take it by the throat and throttle it. A wounded cry escapes you as Aleksander curls his hand around your wrist and you begin to sob in earnest.
Aleksander wakes you, fingers curling firmly around your wrists when you begin to struggle in his arms, still in the throes of your anxious slumber. When you realise where you are, and who is holding you, your body slumps defeatedly against him.
Aleksander lets you cry, allowing your grief to course through your body as you sob. He keeps you close, stroking a hand down your side as he murmurs gentle reminders to you - to continue breathing through your tears and that he’s here for you.
When your sobs relent, you manage to sit up beside him, the two of you leaning against the headboard.
“I’m sorry for waking you,” you sniffle. He retrieves a handkerchief for you, smoothing the soft cotton over your damp cheeks.
“Don’t be.” He pauses, eyeing your features with concern before he asks softly, “Luda?”
Closing your eyes, your expression crumples as you nod.
“First love always leaves it’s scars,” he murmurs, tracing his finger over the jagged skin tissue that curls over the slope of your shoulder - from the tip of your shoulder blade through your collarbone. The scar from the volcra, when you had escaped the Fold during its creation.
There’s a small scar at the corner of Aleksander’s eyebrow, one that you reach for now. He had gained it when he was thirteen, and he still rubs at the spot when he’s been working too long. There’s another scar, from the same incident, that runs over the length of his calf.
“Let me fetch you a sleeping draught.”
“Aleksander, I don’t need-”
“You look tired, my love.”
The concern in his voice has your hand lowering to your lap, your gaze following it as you remark quietly,
“You know I don’t like taking tonics.”
He nods. Aleksander rarely suggests such a solution, since the sleeping draughts put you in an immobilised state, where your limbs become too heavy to move. He knows you hate the lack of control, and the alarming decrease in your awareness.
“I know. But your nerves are overwrought, and a deep dreamless sleep will fix that.” He strokes your cheek gently. “I will watch over you, I promise. We’re safe. No one will hurt us here.”
A warm tear spills down your cheek, which he brushes away tenderly with the pad of his thumb. Breathing in shakily, you nod in consent. As Aleksander leaves the bed, the mattress dips and you bite back a whimper at the loss of his warm presence.
Leaning your head back against the headboard, you allow your heavy eyes to flutter closed as the sound of pouring liquid reaches your ears. Metal clinks lightly against porcelain as he stirs the sleeping draught for you.
He stokes the fire, encouraging a little more warmth into the room, before scooping up some burning coals to fill the warming pan.
With a tender smile at you, he lifts the covers at the foot of the bed, slotting the pan between the sheets to keep you cosy. Affection buzzes in your chest, an adoring smile quirking at your lips as you watch him.
He rounds the bed, sitting down by your side with a tea cup in his hands which he holds out for you to drink from.
“A few sips will suffice,” he says in a low voice.
Holding his gaze, you swallow down a small mouthful of the bitter liquid. He smiles softly when he sees your nose wrinkle at the taste. Aleksander hooks a finger under your chin, keeping your mouth close to the lip of the cup.
“Just a little more, my love.”
Somewhat reluctantly, you drink another mouthful and Aleksander casts the cup aside.
He settles you in his lap, tucking you against his chest as the draught begins to take effect. A haze clouds over your thoughts, filling your body with a limp heaviness. When you whimper quietly, Aleksander strokes a hand down your spine, pressing a reassuring kiss to your forehead as he hushes you. He continues murmuring comforting words to you.
As your eyelids flutter, your breathing shifting into something more heavy and rhythmic, Aleksander pulls the two of you down under the covers.
»»---------------------►
“Aleksander!” you hiss quietly. He slows his pace slightly, turning back to reach for your hand. “I think you’re forgetting I can’t see in the dark as well as you can.”
“Then summon some light.”
“What if someone sees?”
“No one is awake at this hour.”
Sighing, you summon a low twinkle of starlight, faint galaxies billowing like wisps of smoke around your ankles to light your way. Aided by your stars, you follow Aleksander through the darkened corridors of the Little Palace. He stops at a familiar room, releasing your hand as he turns to look at you.
Quietly, you knock against Alina’s door.
There’s a beat of silence and you both strain your ears, listening for any sound of movement from within her room. Slowly, Alina seems to rouse herself from her bed, moving towards the door. Her eyes widen as she looks at you and Aleksander, a frown creasing at the space between her brows.
“Um, hello?”
“I know you were upset that you couldn’t join your friends at the banya,” you say in a low voice.
Her gaze lowers, her feet shifting in her slippers as a subconscious pout puckers at her lips.
“It’s fine,” she says quietly. “I know you were both just concerned about my safety.”
Despite the guilt stirring in your stomach at the thought of Alina missing out on time with her friends, the smile growing on your face is hard to suppress as you consider the idea you’re about to propose to her.
“Well, we were thinking…” you trail off, looking expectantly at Aleksander. He smiles indulgently.
“That there is no one safer for you to be with than us.” Her eyes widen with excitement at Aleksander’s words and you add,
“It’s a warm night and the water at the lake will be the perfect temperature for a swim.”
“You mean…” Her smile is infectious and you’re smiling too as you ask her,
“Where’s your bathing dress?”
She frowns.
“My what?”
“Bathing dress. Genya told me you have one.”
She glances back into her room, eyes darting between her cabinet, vanity table, and her wardrobe.
“Would you like me to help you find it?” you ask. She nods.
It doesn’t take you long to locate the garment, folded carefully in the bottom drawer of the cabinet beside the window. Aleksander sits at her vanity table and you perch yourself on the end of the bed whilst Alina changes behind the folding screen in the corner of her room.
She steps out rather shyly, fidgeting with the hem of the dress while you and Aleksander stare, captivated by her.
The skirt of Alina’s bathing dress stops mid thigh and the neckline dips enough for you to catch a glimpse of her cleavage despite the modest capped sleeves which cover her shoulders. The fabric hugs her body comfortably, though you’re certain once the water has soaked through the material it will cling sinfully to her every curve.
Her cheeks are flushed, her gaze lowered to avoid your gaze as her fingers graze over the hemline of the dress, fingers playing nervously with the fabric. When she finally finds the courage to meet Aleksander’s eyes - then your own - her blush deepens.
Saving her from further embarrassment, you extend a hand out towards her which she takes instantly. A smile spreads over your features as her fingers curl around yours.
“Let’s go for a swim.”
»»---------------------►
Alina’s head lifts the moment she hears her door open. The smile that spreads over her features has your stomach flipping and she lowers her pen to give you her full attention from where she’s sitting at her vanity table.
“Good evening, Alina.”
Her smile brightens as she wraps her bath robe tighter around her body.
“Good evening.”
There’s ink smudges on her fingertips and your eyes peek around her to examine the pieces of parchment strewn over the table. When she catches your gaze, you lift a brow questioningly.
“Drawing?”
She shakes her head.
“I was just writing another letter for Mal.”
Sadness creeps into her expression and guilt stirs in your stomach.
“Alina-”
At the sound of her name on your lips, she lifts her head, eyes scouring over your face and your words fade as you lose your courage. But Alina deserves the truth.
“All letters that leave the Little Palace are read by either myself or Aleksander, to ensure that no important information falls into the wrong hands.”
She stiffens slightly, embarrassment touching her features.
“You mean you’ve read my letters to Mal?”
Guilt settles in your stomach as you shake your head.
“No.” She frowns, then you pull out a bundle of letters from the pocket of your kefta. “They haven’t been sent.”
She remains still, eyes fixed on the stack in your hand.
“I haven’t opened them. I wanted to tell you that Aleksander and I check letters so that you wouldn’t be uncomfortable. I was going to tell you… but the days went by and I just kept forgetting.”
Every word is the truth. Though it isn’t the whole truth. In all honesty, your reluctance to tell her about the letters is most likely an attempt at keeping her for yourself. Tears glimmer in her eyes and it sickens you that your selfishness is the reason for her distress. She shifts away from you and there’s a physical pain in your chest.
“I told you he hadn’t written back,” she says quietly, a quiver in her voice as she stares down at the envelopes. “You said he would soon. You told me there had been problems with the mail carriers. You lied to me.”
“Alina-”
She shakes her head, stepping away again, and you force your features to harden, shoving the hurt in your chest deep down. It twists inside you, making you step towards her and place the letters down on her table.
“I thought I should give these back to you. I’m certain you will choose your words more carefully, now that you know Aleksander and I will read every word that you write.”
It’s cruel, throwing the feelings you know she has for you and Aleksander in her face. Her cheeks flush red, anger and embarrassment flashing over her features as she looks away from you. The beginning of tears glisten in the corner of her eyes and you turn towards the door before you can see them fall.
»»---------------------►
A familiar presence lingers at the open doorway to your bedroom as you continue folding your trousers up, placing them in your trunk for the third time this morning.
“Sasha, would you pass me the…”
As you turn, your words are halted by the sight of Alina hesitating at the threshold of your room. She hasn’t spoken to you since that night in her rooms, turning away when she sees you in the grounds and keeping her gaze lowered when she passes you in the corridors.
“Alina.”
“You’re leaving.”
You nod.
“I’m going to oversee the new campaign on the Fjerdan frontlines.”
Aleksander had only casually suggested it but you had leapt at the opportunity, believing you need some fresh air and a chance to use your power productively.
There’s a pause as Alina steps towards you, almost cautiously. Her gaze is lowered, searching over your belongings that have been strewn across your bed.
“Can I write to you?” she asks.
There’s a twinge of guilt in your chest at the mention of letters, though the softness of Alina’s features express no ill will in regards to her unsent letters to Mal.
“Of course. I can’t promise my replies will be detailed or lengthy, but I would love to hear from you, Alina.”
She fidgets with her fingers, nails picking at her cuticles.
“How long will you be gone for?”
“I plan to return just before the Winter Fete.”
Her eyes widen.
“That long?”
“It’s only a few months. I’ll be back before you know it.”
»»---------------------►
The problem with being the person who censors letters within the Second Army is that you find it all too easy to remove what has been written on the page.
»»---------------------►
Alina,
I should have told you about the letters. I know this is a cowardly way to apologise, but seeing so many casualties today - knowing there will be more tomorrow - has made me reflective as it always does.
Please forgive me. I don’t want to lose you.
»»---------------------►
Moi Sashenka,
My official report on the front has been sent and hopefully you will have received it by the time this letter reaches you.
Fjerda is as cold as it always is and I hate being so far from you. Too many times I find myself longing for your advice or your embrace. I miss you, Sasha.
I miss Alina too. How is Alina? I hope her lessons have improved and that she’s feeling more settled. Could you remind her that she can write to me? I’m afraid I’ve ruined us.
Take care, as always
Forever yours
»»---------------------►
One particular letter you set alight with your starlight, watching the paper crumble as the flames remove your words from existence. That night you sleep curled in on yourself, old grief burrowing it’s way into your chest as you remember a girl with hopeful eyes the same colour as the sky.
She slips into your dreams, gentle hands holding you. The bed is warm, soft sheets caressing your naked bodies. Aleksander’s touch is familiar, like being welcomed home. He kisses you. She kisses you. A featherlight brush of her lips, before you’re sinking a hand into her hair to deepen the kiss with a fierce longing to keep her like this. It feels so real.
The tears have scarcely dried over your cheeks as you wake. The sounds of your army rousing itself from slumber draws you out of your bittersweet state, grounding you as you stare up at the cloth ceiling of your tent.
»»---------------------►
Aleksander folds his arms over his chest, drawing his bath robe tighter around his body as he looks over the map on his table. A chill brushes over his skin when his eyes land on the collection of figures placed by the Fjerdan border. Immediately his thoughts fall onto you.
The two of you aren’t often parted from each other; you’ve been one another’s constant companion for the last few centuries and he feels the temporary loss of you in his chest.
It appears he isn’t the only one who feels your absence. He turns at the sight of movement in the corner of his eye, shoulders tensing as the shadows stir at his subconscious command. They dissolve the moment his gaze falls onto her face.
“Alina.”
She tucks her hair back shyly.
“Am I disturbing you?”
He shakes his head.
“Not at all. Come in, please.”
He watches Alina’s eyes bounce over the contents of his table and can’t help but notice that she also lingers on the spot where your camp is. As she approaches him, she keeps her gaze lowered, looking over the pages in front of him.
Then she spies your letters.
“Is this from-”
Aleksander says your name softly, nodding as his fingers trace affectionately over the loops of your handwriting. His eyes skim over the words, reading between the lines of your ink in a manner only he can.
“She misses you.”
“I miss her too,” she admits in a whisper.
He gestures for her to sit in the armchair by the fire which she does, quietly tucking her knees beneath herself, bundling the fabric of her night robe closer around her body. Aleksander watches her, leaning back against the war table, his palms splayed over maps and papers.
He looks at her for a long moment, admiring her features as the firelight dances over them. There’s a contemplative furrow to his brows as he thinks of a promise he made to you before you left for the frontlines.
“Alina, I have something to tell you but I want you to make me a promise first.”
She eyes him somewhat warily. In your absence, the two of them have grown considerably closer, but you had been the one to coax Alina out of her shell.
“What’s the promise?” she asks.
“That you won’t leave.”
Her expression softens.
“Aleksander-”
“I want you to give me your word, that you will listen to everything I have to say tonight. Afterwards, if you would like to leave I will provide you with whatever resources I can to ensure you a safe journey.”
She’s frighteningly still, wide eyed like a rabbit weighing up the threat of a potential predator. He watches her swallow, steeling herself before she nods curtly in agreement. The knot in his chest begins to loosen slightly, though he dreads her reaction to what he’s about to tell her. He can only hope that you are right.
»»---------------------►
Dear Alina,
I know winter has already arrived for you in the capital. Whenever I begin to fear that frostbite has taken my toes, I picture you curled up by the fire with Aleksander. Home has never felt further from me, even as the date of my return inches closer.
I hope you will be happy to see me. I long for you. The silence has been torture.
I have enclosed another letter, which I hope you might be able to pass along to Aleksander. There has been little time to write these days and ink is scarce. Give him my love. I hope you have a happy Yuletide.
»»---------------------►
Sasha,
There is a Yuletide gift for you underneath your bed. Alina’s gift is under my bed. Kiss her under the mistletoe for me.
All my love
»»---------------------►
My dearest Alya,
Fjerda is cold and I miss your warmth.
I hope that I reach you before this letter does. We begin our return to Os Alta today. I’m coming home.
»»---------------------►
As soon as you arrive back at the Little Palace, you find yourself drawn to Aleksander’s room, abandoning your trunk in your bedroom and seeking solace in the war room. The moment you set your eyes on him, the months-long tension leaves your shoulders and you stumble into his open arms.
Aleksander doesn’t have an opportunity to speak, as you grasp hold of his hair and drag his mouth down to yours. As soon as your lips meet, the leftover strain in your body and mind melts. The sigh that leaves you is fuelled by relief.
“Sasha,” you whine against his lips, unable to articulate anything else.
His hands cup your face, mouth moving eagerly against your own. After months of not being able to see one another, without touching one another, you’re both desperate.
“I forbid you from leaving the Little Palace for the foreseeable future,” he says, an edge of command in his tone.
“Yes, moi soverenyi,” you breathe against his lips.
A growl catches in the back of his throat and you squeeze your thighs together at the sound as white hot arousal coils in your stomach. He tugs you closer, hooking his hands beneath your legs to hoist you up into his arms. His next words are breathless, interrupted by your hurried kisses as he carries you into the bedroom.
“If it weren’t for the damned fete tomorrow, I would forbid you from leaving this bed.”
His mouth trails down your body, pressing hot kisses over your skin. A simmering tingle of pleasure shudders down your spine with each firm brush of his lips or stroke of his tongue. Heat creeps over your cheeks, as you realise your moans are getting louder and more desperate.
Once his mouth finally reaches your cunt, a sharp yelp falls from your lips. Holding onto his hair always encourages Aleksander, so your attempts to ground yourself only entice him further into your cunt. Slick arousal smears over his lips and chin as he devours you, leaving no inch of you untouched by his tongue.
He holds each of your hands in his as he works your body into a quivering climax that has tears spilling down your cheeks, relief soaking into your skin now that you’re finally home.
Aleksander’s expression softens as he observes your pitiful state. There’s a tremor in your legs that he attempts to coax out of you, smoothing his palms firmly over your thighs, his fingers squeezing at the sore muscle of your calves.
“Oh my love,” he coos. “You didn’t touch yourself at all while you were gone, did you?”
You shake your head.
“Didn’t feel right without you,” you admit, wiping the tears from your cheeks as they continue to pour. “Didn’t feel safe enough.”
A soft sigh heaves at his shoulders as he lowers himself over you, kissing his way up your body. He knows that feeling all too well, something he had hoped you would never experience again.
He sheds the rest of your clothing, tossing his own down onto the floor until your bare skin meets his. Sheer pleasure prickles through your body at the opportunity to feel his body against yours. Smooth skin, both of you marred with callouses and scars. The trail of hair down his stomach. Lean muscle and soft flesh. A soft moan escapes from your lips as his hips grind gently into yours.
“I have you now, my love,” he breathes out against your collarbone, mouthing over your throat. “You’re safe.” He reinforces his words with a firm kiss to the underside of your jaw. “You’re home.” Another kiss, a little higher. “Let me take care of you.”
“How is Alina?” you ask breathlessly.
He smiles down at you.
“She can summon at will now.” His mouth moves along your jawline. “For her Winter Fete display she plans to split sunbeams.”
He parts your thighs, positioning the head of his cock at your entrance before he eases himself forwards. A rough moan tears itself from the back of your throat as the feeling of Aleksander stretching you open floods through your body.
“She sleeps with your letters under her pillow each night.”
His words make your heart ache and your cunt clench around his cock, drawing a small hiss of surprise from him.
“I’ve missed her. I’ve missed you, Sasha.”
“I know, my love. I’ve missed you too,” he breathes out against your neck. “We talk about you all the time.”
He bites down on the juncture of your neck, teeth dragging on your skin before he strokes his tongue over the mark blooming there.
“You do?”
There’s a shy naivety in your voice, as if you can barely believe that the two people you adore most in the world would spend their time talking about you.
“She- she isn’t mad at me… is she?”
He kisses your cheek, his forehead pressing against your temple.
“No, my love. She isn’t mad at you.”
He moans quietly as your nails bite into his hips, clinging to him with an intensity that has you shaking. Aleksander kisses you, his mouth moving leisurely against yours. There is hardly a moment to breathe, with the head of Aleksander’s cock nudging against that sweet, sensitive spot inside you and the way he occupies your mouth.
Pleasure spirals in your stomach, as your cunt clenches tightly around his cock. Aleksander cries out a deep, startled sound. He grits his teeth, pressing his body directly into yours. Arching your back against the mattress, you grip onto Aleksander, writhing as your mind fights tooth and nail to resist the climax that your body is dragging you towards.
“Let go, my love,” he whispers, warm mouth suckling gently on your earlobe. “You’re safe, I have you. I promise.”
The next wave of pleasure that runs through you completely shatters whatever resolve had been subconsciously established in your mind. Another, rather unexpected, bout of tears trace down your cheeks and a small sob catches in the back of your throat as your climax peaks.
Aleksander continues his motions, thrusting into you as he cradles your face between his hands. He kisses your tears away as best he can whilst chasing his own climax. The shaky gasps of his name only entice him further, drawing a wrecked moan from his lips as he pulls out, spilling his sticky spend over your thighs.
The two of you remain in one another’s arms as you catch your breath, trading slow kisses and gentle touches. Aleksander’s fingers dance along the curves and dips of your body, following the path he knows by heart. As your eyes flutter closed, you link your fingers with his, giving them a gentle squeeze which he returns without hesitation.
Aleksander inhales sharply as you press a delicate kiss to his knuckles. In the absence of one another, it has been all too easy to forget the luxury of tender touches. There’s a softness to his features as he looks at you, tilting his head slightly to watch as you continue to kiss over each of his fingers.
“I told Alina about our past,” Aleksander confesses quietly. That has you freezing for a moment, eyes flickering up to study his face.
“How did she take it?”
His gaze lowers, his hand flexing slightly in your hold.
“She looked frightened at first. She had promised to listen to me, but I could see she was waiting to run.”
“What changed her mind?”
“You.”
A frown creases at your brows.
“I told her about you, about everything we’ve been through together. Everything we’ve lost over the years.” Emotion hardens in your throat, though you do your best to swallow it down. His tone grows regretful. “Even after everything I’ve done, you’ve remained by my side.”
“Because I love you,” you say quietly, pressing another kiss to his knuckles, squeezing his digits affectionately. “Because I know that everything you’ve done has been to keep us safe and keep our Grisha safe.” Tears well in Aleksander’s dark eyes. “How could I ever leave you - knowing that?”
He leans forward, cupping the back of your head to kiss you soundly.
»»---------------------►
Alina looks magnificent in black. The colour belongs to you as much as it belongs to Aleksander. To see her wearing your colour, her kefta perfectly moulded to her figure, drives the air from your lungs. She had been pale and gaunt when she first arrived at the Little Palace; it seems that your sun summoner has blossomed in your absence.
Aleksander moves towards her first, the crowd parting instantly for the three of you to meet.
“You were supposed to enter accompanied by palace guards,” he says in a low voice.
She blushes, her eyes bouncing between you and Aleksander.
“I’m sorry. I just… I wanted to see you.”
Her tone is shy, as if she truly hadn’t intended on diverting from Aleksander’s strict schedule for her safety. Aleksander blinks slowly, the corner of his lips twitching into a hint of a smile. His voice softens as he murmurs,
“You look lovely, by the way.”
The blush spreads down her neck and you lick your lips at the sight.
“Beautiful,” you add softly.
Her eyes darken as she meets your gaze and your stomach flips. She inclines her head demurely, a brief curtesy as she stares, seemingly drinking in the sight of you.
“Lieutenant.”
The only response you provide her is a brief tilt of your head.
“Miss Starkov.”
The urge to kiss her claws fiercely inside you, so strong that your lips tingle with a phantom anticipation. Her skin is glowing under the light of the chandeliers, her cheeks flushed prettily. Her lips have been coloured with a dewy layer of gloss that you want to feel smeared over your own mouth. Instead, you say,
“I look forward to your demonstration.”
She worries her lower lip between her teeth, brows furrowed slightly with concern before she manages to smile, somewhat distractedly. Her gaze lowers to the front of her kefta, as she begins to pick at the delicate embroidery there. Instantly, you curl your fingers around hers, halting her nervous fidgeting.
“I am certain it will be wonderful.”
Her inhale is sudden, her lips parted, eyes widened as they flicker rapidly between yours. Taking her hand to your lips, you press a gentle kiss to her knuckles. She swallows hard.
Inferni flame illuminates her features as Polina and Pavel begin their demonstration, fire arching over your heads. As the deep orange flickers over her face, you keep your eyes on her, admiring the soft glow of her skin.
There’s a knowing glimmer in Aleksander’s eyes as he looks at you. He smiles, ducking his head down to murmur quietly against Alina’s ear,
“Let’s give them a real show.”
His lips graze her temple and she shivers.
»»---------------------►
“I have something to confess,” Aleksander murmurs quietly against your ear.
With the demonstrations and dinner done, the royals have long since left the party, as have the majority of the nobility. Now, the people surrounding you are Grisha, which means you feel comfortable enough to sit in Aleksander’s lap. His chest is pressed against your back, the heat of his body warming your spine.
A minute frown creases at the space between your brows, though your eyes don’t stray from where Alina is standing, hiding behind a column with Genya, a flute of sparkling wine in her hand. She giggles and you drink in the sight of her flushed cheeks and bright eyes.
“Confess?”
His hands graze over your sides, his shadows slipping beneath your kefta to caress your body.
“I have been… tutoring Alina. Teaching her how to pleasure herself.”
You blink at him.
“Truly?”
He nods.
“She wants to touch you.”
“She does?”
He nods again, the bulge in his trousers hardening.
“Our darling Alya is rather shy. It took until she was bone limp with pleasure for her to admit it, but yes, she wants you.”
“You’ve touched her?”
“Not intimately.”
His answer has your frown returning.
“The poor girl can’t seem to relax enough without my touch to soothe her. A hand around her wrist, guiding her. Or a gentle pressure against her thighs. It took quite some time to convince her that she was allowed to touch herself.”
“From what she’s told me, the orphanage she grew up in was a conservative household. No doubt she feels embarrassed at the thought of wanting someone.”
From Aleksander’s expression, it’s clear that he is in agreement with you. Then the corner of his mouth lifts, a familiar darkness twinkling in his gaze.
“Now that she is aware of her desires, she is somewhat insatiable.”
The thought of innocent, wide eyed Alina throwing herself at your unflappable Aleksander is equal parts arousing and amusing. Thoughts of Alina touching herself, growing frustrated without him, and seeking out Aleksander to help her has a coil of need curling in your abdomen.
Aleksander smirks, lowering his mouth to graze against the shell of your ear, his voice dropping low so that no one but you can hear him.
“I’ve seen her touching herself, and with the pretty shade of crimson her cheeks gain, I’m certain her fantasies verge on obscene.”
“She’s perfect,” you whisper.
He presses a kiss to the sensitive skin of your earlobe.
“She is.”
His lips lower, trailing down your throat.
“Tonight?” you ask in a soft gasp.
“If you wish so,” he murmurs against your thundering pulse.
“I do. Sasha, I want her so badly.”
“I know.” He kisses your cheek softly. “Would you like her to yourself first?”
“I want her to come undone over my hand, while you watch us.”
He smiles widely.
“One condition.” You nod. “Afterwards, I want to teach Alina how to kiss your cunt.”
At the thought of them both between your thighs, trading slow kisses as they take turns licking and mouthing at your cunt, a small moan catches in the back of your throat. Aleksander curls his hand around your neck.
“She’s watching us.”
The inhale you take is shaky as you flutter your lashes.
“Now?”
He nods, squeezing at your throat gently. His nose brushes against yours delicately as he smiles indulgently at you as he whispers,
“Go to her.”
He releases his hold on you and warmth rushes to your cheeks as you wobble on unsteady feet. There’s a few eyes on you whilst making your way towards Alina, though they look away quickly after one glance in Aleksander’s direction.
Genya’s hazel eyes land on you, pink dusting over the porcelain skin of her cheeks when she sees how your gaze is fixed on Alina. She takes your sun summoner’s empty glass from her, making herself scarce with a knowing smile as you approach.
“Alina.” Her eyes widen, her gaze wandering from your lips downwards, lingering on the loosened neckline of your kefta, and your stomach flips. “I have a gift for you.”
She blinks in surprise.
“You do?”
A smile spreads over your face as you nod.
“Come see me later tonight, in Aleksander’s rooms. I will give it to you then.”
»»---------------------►
Aleksander’s footsteps are smooth and confident as he walks through the war room, his boots echoing over the polished wood. It’s only once he reaches the threshold of his bedroom that his gait falters.
“Where in the name of all saints did you get that?”
Turning from your reflection in the mirror above his vanity table, a coy smile curls at your lips as you smooth down the sheer lace of nightgown.
“To your liking, General?”
He breathes out a sharp laugh.
“Poor Alina won’t know where to look.”
“And you know exactly where to look,” you remark teasingly, adjusting the belt so that the length of your bare leg is on display.
His smile is wide and dazzling as he steps purposefully forward towards you.
“I do.”
Lowering himself onto his knees, Aleksander parts your nightgown, ducking his head between your thighs to kiss over your lace clad mound. A sound of surprise catches in the back of your throat, which dissolves into a moan when his tongue traces eagerly over the crease between your thighs and your hips.
He chuckles when you squirm, his warm hands settling over each of your knees to hold you in place as his mouth moves over your skin.
“Sasha,” you gasp. He smirks teasingly, eyes darkened as he looks up from between your thighs.
“My love, we’ve barely begun.”
There’s a tentative knock at the door.
Aleksander releases his hold on you, smoothing his hands over the knees of his trousers as he stands in one fluid motion. He strolls over towards the door, threading a hand through his hair as he does so. Suddenly conscious of your appearance, you brush down the fabric of your night robe to preserve your modesty.
“Alina,” he says softly.
There’s a small pause, and you know the sight in front of Alina will have her blushing already - Aleksander with bright eyes and flushed cheeks, his hair perfectly disheveled from delving between your thighs.
“Hello.”
“Please, come in.”
She’s dressed in her night dress, silk and lace clinging to her curves, with a velvet robe thrown over her shoulders. Her gaze bounces over the entirety of your body, unable to fix on any particular aspect before another steals her attention. She smiles as she approaches you.
“I actually have a gift for you as well.”
Rather shyly, she hands you a painted wooden box, wrapped in a sleek black ribbon. At the edge of the room, Aleksander circles around the two of you, watching silently.
The box is made of a wholesome wood, carved around the edge of the lid and along the sides. On every side, a detailed scene has been depicted in paint. The Little Palace, the True Sea, Morozova’s stag grazing in a sunlit meadow. Each brushstroke has been created with care and a skill you can only marvel at.
“Alina,” you whisper in awe.
She blushes.
“I painted it myself.”
Opening up the box, you stare at the contents for a long moment. Countless papers. Folded with care. Some of them are in envelopes, sealed with a rosy pink wax. Alina’s handwriting is instantly recognisable, looping ink on the creamy parchment.
“Are these-?”
“I didn’t want anyone but you to read them.” There’s a pause which weighs heavy over the room and Alina grows nervous. “If you don’t like it-”
“No. Alya, I love it,” you insist earnestly, tucking your hands around it protectively. Rather bashfully, you look down, tracing your fingers over the delicate brushstrokes. “My gift feels somewhat lacking now.”
“What… what is it?”
There’s a curious gleam in her eyes as she looks around you. Nervously, she tucks a stray hair back behind her ear as she sits tentatively at the foot of Aleksander’s bed. Slowly, you place her gift on the vanity table, your eyes examining her expression when you ask,
“Can I kiss you, Alina?”
Her eyes widen, and she blushes a bright shade of scarlet, then nods.
“I haven’t done this before,” she admits, a touch of worry spilling into her eyes. You smile at her.
“I know.” Inhaling slowly, you stand and walk over towards her. “It’s been a long time since I’ve done anything like this.”
Taking her chin between your fingers, you guide her mouth to yours for a tender kiss. The soft press of her lips against yours is better than you could have imagined. Gentle and warm and the shimmering gloss tastes sweet like strawberries.
She gasps out a little sound of pleasure as you cradle the back of her head, while your other hand strokes along her jawline, encouraging the steady motion of her lips. Without thinking, your hands wander down her body, grasping at the silky fabric covering her. She’s panting for breath as you cup her breasts, mapping the curves of her waist with each of your palms.
With little effort, you move her backwards and she sinks down onto the mattress with ease. It’s only after several more kisses that she seems to realise she’s lying on her back, in your bed, with your body attempting to nestle between her thighs.
“Would you part your legs for me?” you ask against her mouth.
She complies slowly, a smidge of embarrassed hesitation in her movement. Instantly, you begin to move downwards, pushing the velvet robe aside before you slide the silk of her nightdress up over her waist.
“Good girl.” She whines at your praise, which only encourages you further. “What a good girl you are, Alya.”
Her hands cover her face, as you lick a stripe over her bare thigh, heading towards the apex of her legs. As your nose nudges against her clothed mound, your mouth waters at the heady scent of her arousal.
“Has Aleksander ever touched you here?” She peeks at you from between her fingers and you raise a brow at her, a wicked smile tugging at your lips when she nods. “He has?” She nods again, breathless already as you laugh teasingly. “Does he touch you with or without your underwear in the way?”
Her cheeks are inflamed, you can feel the heat of her body burning with arousal against your lips as you kiss across her hips and thighs.
“W- with my underwear on,” she stammers bashfully. “Always with it on.”
“Would you like me to take it off?” She stares at you wide eyed, as if she hadn’t even imagined you wanting to touch her so intimately. “Would you like me to stroke your bare cunt?”
She whimpers your name, dropping her head back against the pillow and you grin at the sight of her so disheveled already - from a few heated kisses and some dirty words.
“I-” She worries her lower lip between her teeth. “Are you sure you want to?”
That has you growing still.
“Alina. Can I show you something?”
She nods hesitantly. Taking her hand, you entwine her fingers with yours. Slowly, you slide your joined hands down your body, slipping beneath the fabric of your night robe. Her eyes widen, lips parted in shock as her cheeks burn bright, though she doesn’t pull away even when you press her fingertips against your dripping entrance.
“Can you feel how much I want to, sweet girl?”
She nods.
“So soft.”
There’s a slight slur to her words, as if feeling your arousal has pushed her into a daze, and the temptation to push her fingers inside you prickles over your skin in a burning need. Her hand moves curiously, dipping into your centre, and you groan quietly at her hesitant touch.
Her gaze wanders down your body, before she becomes fixated on the spot between your legs.
“Yours is prettier than mine.”
“Alina,” Aleksander says sternly from where he’s seated himself at his vanity table. His tone has you clenching around nothing and a small pout puckers at her lips in response to his admonishment. “What have I told you about comparing yourself to others?”
Her pout deepens.
“Not to.”
“And why is that?”
She mumbles an answer that you can hardly hear, her cheeks inflamed with an embarrassed heat. Aleksander raises a brow, before prompting her to repeat herself, his tone remaining firm.
“Alina.”
“Because I’m beautiful,” she whispers, her voice wavering as she squeezes her eyes shut.
The smile you share with Aleksander, unseen by Alina, is devious. It seems you are no longer alone in your mission to improve Alina’s sense of self-worth.
Unable to stop yourself, you reward her with a kiss. Her robe slips easily from her shoulders, pooling over the mattress as you grasp at her body. She gasps at the feeling of your hands wandering, squirming beneath you with small sounds of pleasure that she breathes against your lips.
“Aleksander tells me he’s been tutoring you.”
The hint of a whine catches in the back of her throat, her cheeks hot with embarrassment at your words. She nods.
“Will you tell me what you’ve learnt? Will you tell me what you like, sweet girl?”
She bites down on her lip, the plush skin breaking between her teeth. Instantly, you lean forwards, suckling her lower lip to soothe the sting of her bite. The coppery taste of her blood touches the tip of your tongue and she moans louder when you lick over the sensitive spot.
“Tell me, Alina. Let me pleasure you.”
She whines again, a sweet noise that you want to tease out of her over and over again. Taking her hand again, you splay it between her breasts, using your own hand to smooth it down her body. Her thighs tremble.
“Tell me, sweet girl.”
“I- I like it gentle at first,” she stammers quietly, which has a smile quirking at the corner of your mouth as you slip your hand beneath the waistband of her panties.
“Hm? Like this?”
Her lips fall open into a perfect circle as you dip your finger between her soaked folds.
“Oh,” she breathes out, dropping her head back onto the pillow. “Yes.”
The base of your finger nudges against her clit and she writhes beneath you. Her hand curls around your wrist, squeezing as she pleads softly,
“Faster, please.”
Her hips jerk as you begin to circle her clit with the pad of your finger, your thumb hooked over her mound, the digit buried amongst the dark curls there. Alina squeezes her eyes shut, brows scrunching adorably as she gasps.
“Can I stretch your little cunt open now, sweet girl?” She whimpers, nodding fervently.
Her eyes meet yours, an endless darkness of desire spiralling in her blown pupils. Ducking your head down, you allow saliva to pool in your mouth before letting it drop down onto where your finger is pressing against her entrance. Her mouth drops open at the vulgar action, red blossoming down her neck and chest as it heaves with a shaky breath.
The mattress dips as Aleksander sits down at the foot of bed, his eyes fixed on where your hands explore Alina’s body. With the mess of her arousal and the added lubrication of your saliva, you slide your finger inside her. The heat of her cunt clings to your digit, dragging you in greedily and the feeling makes you groan against her neck.
“Alya, fuck, you’re so tight. Such a warm, pretty, little cunt.”
She shudders beneath you, whining your name as she grasps at the fabric of your night robe. With a few deft motions, you untie the belt and reveal your bare chest to her. A desperate noise catches in the back of her throat, her eyes wide and round as she stares at your breasts.
Curling your finger, you search for the spot that makes her clench harder than ever, stroking her quivering walls as you begin to speak.
“You can touch, Alya.”
“W-what?”
“You can touch me. Anywhere you want. Everywhere you want.”
Expecting hesitation from her, the feeling of her hands on your breasts, squeezing the flesh and tugging experimentally on your nipples, has you gasping in surprise. A soft groan escapes you, as the repression inside Alina seems to break. She grasps at you eagerly, perfectly trimmed nails digging into your skin.
Tenderly, you nuzzle your face into the crook of her neck, kissing over her collarbones.
“Let go, sweet girl. I have you.”
She gasps, her grip on you tightening as she bucks her hips upwards, chasing the motion of your hand. Sweat glosses over her body, her power shimmering beneath her skin. Light dances at the edge of the room, but all you can focus on is Alina as she reaches the peak of her pleasure.
Her back arches away from the mattress, dark eyes widened as she cries out your name, body succumbing to her climax. Her cunt twitches around your finger, pulsing violently around your digit. With her head thrown backwards, you can see each frantic beat of her heart thrumming in the veins across her throat, bared vulnerable to your hungry eyes.
She breathes heavily, pupils wide and sparkling with pleasure as she stares at you, her gaze flickering between your face and your body. Her smile is almost shy now, as she tucks a stray hair behind her ear with a shaky hand.
Aleksander’s hand curls around your throat, squeezing softly as he directs your head backward towards his mouth. It’s easy and well-practised, the way he moves your body so that you’re lying on your back with him nestled perfectly between your thighs.
“Remember what we agreed on, my love?”
“Sasha,” you whine against his lips, imagining Aleksander and Alina kissing between your thighs, their lips smeared with your arousal.
His hands are well acquainted with your body, paying attention to every dip and curve that he knows by heart. He squeezes the softest areas, blunt nails dragging purposefully over the spots that make you shudder as he works his way downwards. He kisses over your hip bones, tongue laving over the sensitive skin there as he traces his way down your thighs.
Aleksander retracts onto the balls of his heels, parting your folds smoothly with his fingers and your body burns at the feeling of being so observed as your arousal sticks to his digits. He leans over to kiss Alina’s flushed cheek, his lips grazing her ear as he speaks in a low voice.
“Kiss her here, just like you’d kiss her mouth,” he instructs Alina.
She takes your hand, brushing her thumb over your knuckles and a previously unnoticed tension slips from your shoulders, allowing you to settle comfortably on the mattress. There’s a determined set to her jaw, enthusiasm glimmering in her eyes as if she has been wanting for months to taste you. Slowly, she leans forwards.
The soft press of her lips against your cunt has you squirming, a keening whine slipping from your lips as her tongue darts out tentatively to lick up your arousal. She hums and your stomach flips at the thought of her enjoying the feeling of your cunt against her tongue.
Aleksander smiles at you both, squeezing your thigh as he pets the back of her head.
“Very good, Alinochka.”
The praise makes her sigh against your cunt and you clench around nothing, wishing she would slip her tongue inside you. Aleksander traces his fingers over your mound, drawing a shiver from you as he directs Alina’s attention to your clit.
“Watch carefully,” he tells her.
He ducks his head down, taking the swollen nub of your clit into his mouth. Instantly, you cry out, writhing over the mattress as you grasp at his hair, tugging on it with carnal need.
When he releases you, Alina is eager to take his place, mimicking the pressure of his mouth whilst lapping at your clit with her tongue. Breathless, you moan brokenly. The two of them are taking you apart, piece by piece, stealing the fractured shards of you for themselves.
Nerves stir in your stomach as your pleasure begins to sharpen into something tangible, almost within your grasp. Nevertheless, your climax evades you, until you can feel your sweat soaking the sheets and glossing at your forehead.
“Sasha, I can’t,” you whisper weakly.
“You can, my love.” He kisses your temple. “You’re doing so well.”
He strokes your hair back gently, reaching out to cup your breast comfortingly as he lies at your side. His thumb circles over your nipple in a soothing motion and you press your forehead against his shoulder as you whine. Taking your chin between his fingers, he turns you so that you’re looking down at Alina.
“Doesn’t she look beautiful like this? Our darling Alina.” At the sound of her name, her eyes flicker up to meet yours, a lustful sheen in her gaze that fills her features as she looks between you and Aleksander. “Don’t you want to spill yourself over her pretty face?”
She seems captivated by you, an awestruck expression glimmering in her eyes. Innocent little Alina, staring openly at you - as you lie splayed over Aleksander’s bed, almost completely unraveled by her mouth.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck- Alina.”
As your climax hits, your curses turn into frantic whines and your hips jerk against Alina’s face. Pleasure blooms beneath your skin, prickling down your spine as your cunt clenches a rapid rhythm that sends you spiralling into bliss.
Eyes fluttering closed, you drop your head back against the pillow, turning to press your forehead onto Aleksander’s shoulder. Each breath you take is a desperate heave of air, your body warm and sated with a blissful satisfaction as your pulse gallops a steady rhythm beneath your skin.
Alina stares at you, pink tongue tracing her lower lip as your eyes lock for a heated moment. Then she scrambles up your body, straddling your waist eagerly as she leans down to kiss you, smearing the remnants of your orgasm from her mouth to yours. Aleksander breathes out a soft groan at the sight of you both as you kiss lazily.
“Sasha,” you murmur against Alina’s lips, reaching downwards with the intention to grasp at his still-clothed cock.
His hand curls around your wrist to stop you.
“I want a clear head tonight,” he says when you meet his gaze.
On occasion, Aleksander denies himself a climax in order to stay fully aware of his surroundings, particularly when he’s feeling anxious about your safety. A rebuke is on the tip of your tongue - after all, the Little Palace is one of the safest places in the world. You and Aleksander ensured it. But with Alina here in your bed for the first time, you can understand why he would be concerned.
Pressing a soft kiss to his cheek, you whisper,
“Thank you, Sasha.”
He smiles, stroking your cheek affectionately with his knuckles.
“Anything for you, my love.”
“Can I wake you with a treat tomorrow morning?”
His smile widens.
“A treat?”
As you settle down by his side, curling up beneath his outstretched arm, you nod.
“Hm. I want to teach Alina how to suck your cock.”
Alina stifles a gasp. The apple of his throat bobs, a muscle in his jaw flaring as his eyes darken.
“My love,” he says warningly. “Your proposition isn’t helping my current issue.”
Biting down on your lip, you feel a touch of guilt as he shifts his hips, breathing deeply through his nose as he attempts to rein in his arousal.
“Sorry, Sasha.”
He hums with a smile, clearly unconvinced by your apology. Then he cups the back of your head, sinking his fingers into your hair as he kisses you.
“Let me clean the two of you up,” he suggests.
He glances at Alina in a silent question, requesting her consent which she gives with a soft smile and a small nod. Leisurely, you stretch out over the mattress as Aleksander stands to retrieve a wash cloth and basin full of water.
Alina breathes out a sigh and your eyes flutter open to admire her form draped beside you. Candlelight flickers over her skin, your fingers following the shadows that dip into the curves of her body as you reach out to trace over her figure with a featherlight touch. She hums quietly, eyes heavy-lidded as she looks at you. When your eyes meet, the smile that spreads across her face is luminous.
She blushes when Aleksander parts her legs, wiping a warm cloth over the space between her thighs. Once he’s done, you kiss her lips as a reward. He tells her that she can wear anything she likes to bed and she immediately moves towards your wardrobe as Aleksander’s attention moves to you.
He kisses you softly, hands cradling your face as you both smile at one another. He cleans you with the same care given to Alina, and once he’s done, you retrieve one of his night shirts to sleep in. As you shrug the garment over your shoulders, you turn your attention back to Alina.
She’s wearing one of your cosiest night robes, the soft fabric bundled around her frame. It drags over the floor as she moves towards you and Aleksander, climbing into bed between you both - where she belongs.
Finally having her in your bed seems to be quite the distraction for you and Aleksander; neither of you can keep your hands off her, taking turns to kiss her lips.
Alina giggles breathlessly.
“Aren’t we going to sleep?” she remarks teasingly, gnawing on her lower lip. The sight of her, dark curls askew and flushed cheeks, makes you and Aleksander both sigh.
“Yes, milaya,” Aleksander says decidedly as he reaches for the lantern on his bedside. “We’re going to sleep.”
He lifts the glass, blowing out the candle, and the room descends into darkness. Slipping your arms around Alina’s waist, you pull her backwards and she slots perfectly against your front. Aleksander drapes his arm over Alina, encaging her between you both as he reaches for you. He strokes a hand over your bicep, languid petting as the three of you fall asleep.
»»---------------------►
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#aleksander morozova x reader x alina starkov#darklina x reader#shadow and bone au#shadow and bone x reader#aleksander morozova x reader#alina starkov x reader
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Welcome Home
Masterlist
Summary: Azriel comes home late one evening to a surprise from his mate, who has spent the evening reading scary stories.
Pairing: Azriel x Reader (She/Her)
Word Count: 1.5k
Warnings: pure fluff
A/N: So I posted for five days in a row to celebrate 500 followers, but I ended up hitting 600 yesterday. Here is a surprise sixth fic. Thank you to @ellievickstar for making this fun request.
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Your home with Azriel was the stuff of dreams. A small stone cottage situated south of the City of Starlight, where the Sidra river met the ocean beyond. It was not nearly as grand as the River House or the House of Wind, with no opulent foyer or sweeping staircases, but it felt more like home than anywhere you had ever lived. Shortly after the bond clicked and you and your mate absconded to the cabin for three long weeks, Azriel surprised you by suggesting you get a place of your own, just for the two of you. The cottage was in rough shape when you acquired it, withering under years of neglect and battered by the nearby sea. Azriel had been skeptical at first, but the view of the ocean to the south and the city to the north was unparalleled. You knew as soon as you saw the small structure nestled between rolling green hills that no other property in the whole of Prythian would ever compare.
The process to restore and expand the house had taken months, with diligent planning on your part to ensure it retained its original charm. Rhysand had offered to build an entirely new home as a mating present, arguing he was long overdue in showing Azriel his gratitude for years of loyal service and brotherhood. The High Lord’s taste was far more extravagant than what you had in mind, though you did allow him to talk you into expanding the property slightly. You allowed a few extra rooms to be tacked on near the back, carefully crafted to match the original architecture. “For a library or an office,” Rhys had suggested, turning to you with a mischievous glint, “or perhaps a nursery.” You’d shushed him, your cheeks burning, but you couldn’t help but picture it as the framing went up. For now, the room closest to yours and Azriel’s would be a guest room, but someday, you both hoped that might change.
Another room at the south end of the home was designated as a small library, with an oversized window nook that provided sweeping views of the river mouth. The room was lined with floor-to-ceiling bookshelves stained deep mahogany, the majority of which were already filled with your and Azriel’s personal collection of books. At one end of the room, there was a seating area adjacent to the nook, where a large velvet sofa and a leather armchair fit to accommodate wings lay before a cozy fireplace. Feyre had painted the piece that hung over the mantle, a portrait of you and Azriel, silhouetted against a star-flecked sky. At the other end of the room was a shiny, black piano where your mate would sometimes sit and play you lullabies while you leafed through your book of the moment. While you loved all the rooms in your home, the library, in particular, was your verison of paradise. After so many years of bloodshed and chaos, the peaceful dwelling was a salve for both you and Azriel’s souls.
When Azriel was away on work for an extended period and you had nothing to busy yourself with, you would often find yourself curled up in the nook or next to the hearth, book in hand and basking in the serenity of your surroundings while you awaited his return. On one such evening, while an autumn squall sent sheets of rain against the windows, you selected a new book to occupy your time. The novel was a thriller recommended by Gwyn, who said she enjoyed it despite the lack of romance but warned you it may send chills down your spine. The story was indeed as captivating as it was unsettling, and you read well into the evening, completely enraptured. Dusk turned to night and you moved to the armchair, wrapping yourself in a blanket that smelled of Azriel while you read by firelight.
As the macabre tale unfolded, the creak of the house and howling wind beyond had you on edge, nearly jumping from your seat at each crack of thunder or wailing gust. Usually, you didn’t mind being alone at the house, but on nights like this, you longed for the comforting warmth of your mate at your side. Azriel was with Cassian in the Illyrian mountains, and with the storm raging outside, he was unlikely to return until the following day. You knew your choice in reading materials would do you no good when it came to falling asleep alone that night, but the chilling plot was too enthralling to put down.
Hours after dusk, a particularly loud creak made you jump, your heart racing in your chest. You were ready to dismiss it as a consequence of the galeforce winds when it happened again, this time followed by a slam coming from your front room. Blood drained from your face as you recognized the sound as that of your front door opening and closing. For a moment, you were frozen in fear, thoughts of the creatures from your book filling your mind. The house and grounds were heavily warded, and there were few who would dare trespass on the Shadowsinger’s land, but terror began to rise within you nonetheless.
The nearest weapon was across the hall in Azriel’s office, and to get to it, you would have to cross the intruder’s line of sight, costing you the element of surprise. A plan began to form in your mind and you rose silently, picking up the largest book you owned. It was a hefty historical text bound in wood and leather, and you reckoned it would do quite nicely as a makeshift paddle. Positioning yourself behind the door to the library, you held your breath and listened for movement in the hallway. You couldn’t hear any footsteps, but with the rain battering your roof and wailing wind, they could easily be concealed. There was a slight click of your bedroom door being opened from down the hall, but after a few moments, it was shut softly once more. A few seconds passed and the handle to the library door twisted. You raised the book in preparation, bracing yourself for the fight that would soon follow.
The intruder opened the door, and before they could take a full step across the threshold you lunged forward with a great cry. Calling on every bit of upper body strength you possessed, you swung the book upwards towards their face and moved to dart past them towards the office. As the makeshift weapon made contact and the trespasser gave a cry of surprise, recognition washed over you, followed closely by horror.
Azriel stumbled backward, his hand coming up to clutch his nose, and you dropped the book in shock. He looked up at you wearing a bewildered impression, clearly caught off guard by your greeting. You covered your mouth in shock as blood dripped from one of his nostrils. “I’m sorry!” you yelped. “I’m so sorry! I thought you were an intruder!” Despite his bloodied nose, Azriel’s face held no anger, a smirk playing at the edges of his lips. “Oh by the Mother, wait here!” you exclaimed, moving past him to retrieve a cloth for his nose and wetting another with cold water.
“Quite the welcome home, love,” Azriel mused, chuckling as he accepted the cloth to wipe his nose. The bleeding had nearly stopped already, but guilt surged within you. “What’s got you so spooked?”
He turned to look at you and the amusement dissolved, his face falling when he registered the tears rapidly gathering in your eyes. “I’m so sorry,” you choked, beginning to sniffle. Hurting your mate, accident or not, was stomach churning.
“It’s alright, love,” Azriel assured you, stepping forward to cup your face. “I’m fine. It was a creative defense, I’ll give you that.” He brushed his thumb across your cheek, wiping away the stray tears that had fallen, and leaned forward to press a kiss to your forehead. “Now, what made you think it was anyone but me coming home?”
“I thought you wouldn’t be back until the storm passed and…” Your eyes flitted to your book, discarded on the couch, “and the book I’m reading had me on edge, I suppose.” Azriel couldn’t help but laugh, breaking into a full-on grin as you blushed, looking positively sheepish.
“Perhaps we should save the thrillers for daylight hours,” he suggested, wrapping you in his arms. “Although I guess it’s a good thing you're so ready to defend yourself and our home.”
You leaned into his touch, wrapping your arms tightly around his waist. “I’m sorry,” you mumbled, face pressed into his rain drenched armor. He leaned down and kissed the top of your head.
“No harm done, my love,” he said, his chest vibrating as he spoke. “How about we both get warmed up in the bath and you can tell me about this book that has you so unsettled, hmm?”
“I like that idea,” you looked up at him, relieved to find no bruising on his beautiful face, and pecked him on the lips. “Welcome home, my love.”
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Likes, reblogs, comments, and feedback are greatly appreciated. Please DM me if you would like to be added to or removed from my tag list for future fics. Click here to check out my other work.
Taglists:
All ACOTAR Fics: @answer-the-sirens @microwaveallthedemons @judig92 @wolfyland07 @donttellthecats @goldentournesol @mulansaucey @starlit-terror @starrstrucked @bankerfrog @xxoverthinkxx @luv-xoxo @abrunettefangirlnerd
Azriel Fics: @reiincarnatiion @valeridarkness @hollyismentallyillhelp
#Azriel x Reader#Azriel x You#Azriel Fanfic#Azriel Fanfiction#Azriel#Azriel Shadowsinger#Azriel Imagine#ACOTAR x Reader#ACOTAR x You#ACOTAR Fanfic#ACOTAR Fanfiction#ACOTAR#ACOTAR Imagine#my stuff#ff
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A Ravenous Desire- Aemond x fem!Reader
Chapter One, Part I
Series Masterlist
Rating: Explicit
Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x fem!Reader
Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI, AFAB reader, she/her pronouns, cannibalism, descriptions of cannibalism, violence, blood, gore, death, murder
Chapter Summary: A recounting of your childhood and how you ended up on your own.
Word Count: ~5.5k
Author's Note: The next part of Chapter One will be from Aemond's POV, and it will tell his story in a similar fashion to this one. That part will likely be gorier and have more warnings than this part, so as always please mind the warnings and tags before reading! Chapter Two will be when things start to pick up more...Hope you enjoy!
Chapter One, Part I
Despite the love you were often surrounded by as a child, you had still always known there was something off about you; something fundamentally different from everyone else. Adopted at the young age of two, your parents showered you endlessly with their adoration and care. As their only child, you never had to want for anything, for their strong parental love and affection was always present. And whereas some people looked at you with confusion or uncertainty, as if they could sense your difference, your parents had always fawned over your unique features and quirks, never missing a chance to remind you of how special you were to them.
“As light as starlight...” your mother would often muse as she brushed your hair out in the mornings. She’d lovingly pin purple flower hairclips in your hair, to match your eyes, and then she would lean back and gasp dramatically at her work. “Oh, my beautiful girl! My blessing.” She’d give you a squeezing hug and then start asking you for your input about the plans for the day. “We could go to the library, I think they have a storyteller coming in! Or we could go to the park, go on a bike ride...” Those times with your mother are still some of the happiest memories you have.
When she decided to go back to work, and your father moved to working only odd jobs so he could stay at home with you, the routine stayed much the same. Though he could never do your hair as expertly as your mother did. Even so, you would never tell him that, just happy to have him near you. But no matter how much love and comfort a child can be surrounded by in the delicate little cocoon of their parents’ love, the time always comes when they must be sent out into the world. Shortly after your fifth birthday, it came time for you to start school. Your mother and father had tried to prepare you for the transition, explaining the ins and outs of making friends, homework, and all the other associated parts of this new stage. You found out quickly that this preparation wasn’t enough.
The traits that your parents had always viewed as endearing soon became annoying, a burden that schoolteachers muttered about or that your classmates used against you. No one found it interesting how differently you looked from them; how you stuck out like a sore thumb. It wasn’t cute when you could smell what your classmates had eaten for breakfast, or when you commented on it loudly. And it was downright troublesome when you would smell or sense that another kid had had an accident or stolen and eaten a snack before lunch time, announcing it to the class before anyone else had even noticed. Any chance to fix the mistakes you’d made inside would have come during recess, but the noises were too loud and the environment too overwhelming to home in on just one or two classmates. You came to spend that time alone. Your teachers were your partners more often than not, the other children much preferring to partner with their friends, or someone who didn’t freak them out or make strange comments.
People would also stare, often, you noticed. When you were younger and still a small child attached to the side of your mother or father, this staring was always accompanied by interested murmurs, compliments directed towards your parents for their beautiful girl. But a child with their parents isn’t threatening or burdensome. A child can be viewed as an extension of another person, not an autonomous being. Not a potential problem or inexplicably alarming. And with your parents beside you it was easier to believe you were truly human, and not an alien that had wandered in off the street, attempting to blend in with the rest of the children. As you got older and the stark contrast between the appearances and social lives of your peers and your own became clearer, the creeping sense of alienation was harder to ignore. A small handful of your peers found your unique features beautiful and intriguing, but this never progressed from offhand compliments to friendship. The others appeared to be scared of you at times, and their reactions were often harsh, if not outwardly cruel.
“You look like an alien.”
“Her eyes freak me out!”
“I bet your parents adopted you because they knew no one else would and they felt sorry for you!”
The whispered comments that you couldn’t hear, and downward glances and avoidance were hurtful in their own way.
You had always considered yourself a strong person, but you could only listen to these comments and bear the loneliness for so long before it became too much to handle. And so, you began to dye your hair when you were only eleven, in an attempt to blend in. Your parents had forbidden you from doing so, despite your frequent begging, but the comments and isolation from your peers had grown old and the loneliness ate at you. It took four months of saving money from your allowances and a fair amount of planning, but you had finally managed to buy a cheap box of black hair dye on your way home from school one day.
It must have been a shocking sight, for your parents to walk into their child’s bedroom to find them looking like a completely different person, their bathroom stained with black hair dye. Your mother was clearly devastated, as much as she tried to hide it. “You look beautiful, my love. I’ll just miss my starlight.” Sunglasses became a staple of every outfit as well. When you weren’t able to wear them, your eyes reflexively found a spot on the floor and only a handful of people would be granted a view of your eyes, typically only out of necessity. Those physical traits were easy to cover up or ignore. Some aren’t so easy. Whereas many people avoided you, some flocked to you instead, seemingly pulled in. After your first victim, things began to make more sense.
Several years had passed since your abrupt change in appearance, and you had been fortunate enough to make a couple of friends. It didn’t matter that you had to change yourself, you told yourself, because someone finally wanted you. Someone finally viewed you as something other than a loser and side show freak. The three of you bonded over the same things young girls that age usually bond over; stupid, unimportant things. Crushes, stress over testing and class work, shared annoyances of your classmates, or if you were going to start wearing makeup soon. Together, you made a close trio, and you were convinced that this could never change.
Nonetheless, it’s unfortunate that in a group of three friends, there will almost always be one that’s left out, that isn’t as close to the other two. A third, pushed off of the sidewalk or given an uneven third of a sandwich. Sleepovers would be thrown, and the closer two would whisper to each other to keep it a secret from the other. You had bonded particularly well with a girl a little bit younger than you, Sara. She was quiet, like you, but she had a streak of feistiness that often left the two of you keeled over, laughing until tears formed in your eyes and your stomachs hurt. She had beautiful dark, curly hair, and freckles that covered the bridge of her nose and inched their way up on either side of her gray-blue eyes. The two of you bonded over your status of being adopted children, of feeling outside of the norm in a sea of children who weren’t lacking in this part of their identity. And you both had only each other, whereas sweet Cassie would often weave in and out of other friend groups. Additionally, she had dark blonde hair, and the two of you had darker hair. You would usually joke that, were it not for your eyes, you could easily be mistaken as sisters or even twins. The connection you two shared seemed perfect; meant to be.
Being a third wheel is unfortunate, much of the time. Sometimes it’s a blessing. The weekend before the beginning of the next school year, you had invited Sara over for a sleepover to celebrate the final days of summer break. Cassie had been on vacation, and she never seemed to understand the games you and Sara played anyway, so it was just the two of you. It was late, and the two of you were polishing off a bag of candy and trying to find another movie to watch after finishing yet another rewatch of Splash, without much luck.
Your father had been remodeling the kitchen, his tools strewn haphazardly around the house and plastic sheeting on the kitchen floor and hanging from the walls. When you weren’t able to find a movie, the two of you decided to play a new game, taking turns standing behind the sheets of thick and dirty plastic with a flashlight illuminating your silhouettes as you mimed different animals or motions, a take on charades and a game made more enjoyable by the late hour. Sara had just finished pretending to be her older brother riding a skateboard, and she somehow managed to perfectly capture his hulking figure and attitude, leaving you sitting on the floor giggling behind your hands to avoid waking your parents. You were so overcome with love for her, that when she emerged from behind the plastic and she motioned for you to go next, you decided to play another game instead.
A game of Truth or Dare wasn’t really necessary for the two of you, considering how close you were. But the night’s activities and your friend’s bright presence had given you a kind of high, and your curiosity and feelings of love couldn’t be ignored. Sara raised her eyebrows when you suggested it, but she agreed quickly and sat down across from you, her game face on.
“You go first.”
You scooted closer to her, a smile on your lips. “Truth or Dare?”
“Ugh, Truth!”
“Okay, have you ever kissed anyone before?” You knew the answer.
Sara blushed and giggled, avoiding your eyes, “You know I haven’t! I would have told you the moment it happened! And I know you haven’t either so don’t look at me like I’m some kind of los--”
You leaned forward, cutting her off, and kissed her gently on her lips, your own curiosity getting the better of you. Both of you had your eyes open as your lips touched, and it wasn’t long before you were both laughing again, cheeks red and warmth in your chests.
“Now you have!”
You found that the kiss had touched something deeper within you, and it left you feeling warm and satisfied. But you wanted more. Of what, you didn’t know.
Sara paused for a moment, smiling at you with her crooked teeth and blushing cheeks, before she giggled again and stood up, lending you her hand and helping you to your feet. “Let’s see if we can find another movie or something!”
You nodded, beginning to follow her to the next room, before you grabbed her hand again and pulled her into your arms, hugging her tight and wanting to hold onto this moment for as long as you could. The world had never felt so beautiful and so expansive as in that moment before, that moment where you two simply hugged and held onto one another, making promises to always stick beside one another. You loved Sara. As a friend, as a confidante. The bonding between you had been quick, and your relationship with her had begun to chip away at the gnawing sense of loneliness that had grown in you for years. And how you loved her, you loved her, you loved her...
“I don’t care if we don’t have any classes together this year, nothing that stupid could tear us apart anyway,” Sara had declared, squeezing you tighter before finally letting go.
Then, in a cruel turn of fate, Sara turned to begin walking into the other room and she made the unfortunate mistake of catching the sleeve of her shirt on a loose nail on the wall, and in pulling away, she scratched the underside of her arm. It wasn’t a deep scratch. It barely even bled. But it bled enough that your eyes shot right to the inflamed line on her arm. Suddenly your ears felt like they were full of cotton, and your stomach made an uncomfortable churning sensation. And then a buzzing in your ears began, accompanied by an aching in your chest and your mouth watering.
You had experienced this feeling on only one other occasion that you could recall, when your mother pricked her finger as she was tailoring a dress for you for an upcoming holiday. You’d watched as the bead of blood emerged, fully entranced and lost in the image. You had started reaching for her hand, and mistaking your gesture as one of concern, your mother moved and kissed you on the head before she walked out of the room to get a band-aid, “I’m fine, sweetie.” The sweet chime of her voice, blissfully unaware of what she had awakened in her daughter. She left you in the room, staring at the spot she had just left and with nothing to do but rub your stomach from the distinct feeling of discomfort. The incident left you feeling strange, and an unfounded resentment towards your mother bubbled within you in the following days. Your parents laughed and brushed off your sudden change in mood, attributing it to regular preteen angst and hormones. You knew, however, that hormones weren’t to blame for such a reaction. The hunger left behind lingered for days. Nothing made it go away aside from time.
At that moment, all you could do was stare at Sara’s arm. The stark contrast of red on her pale skin fascinated you. But not nearly as much as the thought of what lay beneath that skin. The curiosity, the hunger to know was overwhelming. Muffled, concerned questions erupted from Sara as she watched you, grabbing onto your arms gently to try and shake you from your stupor. You didn’t really hear her, and you didn’t care. You weren’t fine. Nothing was ever going to be fine again.
Your violet eyes finally moved up and met the calm gray of hers, full of mutual love and friendship, and she smiled at you in relief. And then you reached out and grabbed her arm, sinking your teeth into the soft flesh, meeting her eyes all the while. You remember being briefly surprised at how easily you were able to puncture and break the skin, before the taste of the blood landing on your tongue hit you, the buzzing growing louder and your stomach growling as if to say keep going.
The bite on the arm was just a nibble, a brief taste, until your ears became attuned to the sound of her beating heart, the pumping of blood in her neck. More, more, more. Moving up, you grabbed onto her beautiful dark hair and pulled, baring her neck to your mouth.
Her screams pierced your ears, so shrill and full of terror that tears began forming in your eyes. But you just kept going, wanting more than anything to satisfy the desire and hunger you felt. Her screams cut off abruptly as they mingled with the overflowing of blood in her mouth, quickly replaced by her quiet gagging and choking. You loved her, you loved her...
No.
Not enough. Not enough to stop. Not enough to ignore the quenched hunger and need you had been feeling for most of your life. The one that you had previously thought was from loneliness, from feeling alienated. Now, with your friend’s flesh and blood in your mouth, you felt whole for the first time in your life. No amount of love could overcome that, you thought.
The screams had awakened your parents. Imagining the worst case scenarios of the two of you facing an intruder, or starting a fire, or breaking something, they pulled on their robes as quickly as they could and ran through the hall and down the stairs. And then the screams stopped, and it was eerily quiet. As your father moved into the kitchen and closer to the neighboring room, he grabbed a hammer from his toolkit on the table and they both inched their way into the room, not sure what they were expecting but preparing for the worst. But even that wasn’t enough.
What would be the appropriate response to finding your daughter, kneeled over the bloody and still body of her friend? To hearing the nauseating sounds of her chomping, sifting through a corpse? Is there such a thing?
You were ravenous. Nothing more than a feral animal. A monster. Unable to comprehend that your parents were in the room, watching you. Unable to care. All that existed in the world was Sara, as she traveled into your mouth and into your stomach.
The trance was broken only briefly when the screaming picked up again. You remember stopping only briefly as you wondered why Sara was screaming again, as you’d just finished eating her throat. You stopped eating momentarily to look back up at her face for the source of the screams. It didn’t take long for you to realize that it hadn’t been Sara screaming, it was your mother, her screams of fear morphing into yells,
“What did you do! What did you—oh, God...oh God!”
You turned to meet her eyes, moving to stand on shaky legs. Your mother was in hysterics, sobbing and grabbing at her hair but unable to meet your eyes as she looked down at Sara’s mangled body. When you looked at him, your father was still as a statue, his face frozen in shock but eyes moving in quick succession from you to Sara. Then, as if on instinct, he started to bend down, reaching for the hammer he had dropped in his shock.
“No!” Your mother screamed, lunging for your father and grabbing the hammer from his hand. He let her grab it without a fight, tears rolling down his cheeks as he finally stopped and looked at you.
The spell was broken, and whatever had spurned you to act in such a primal manner was gone. Tears began rolling down your face, mingling with the blood of your dead friend, and you started to move towards your parents, aching for the feel of their comforting arms wrapped around you.
“Mommy...Daddy...”
Your father pushed your mother behind him, his shaking hand held out in front of him as a shield. A shield from you.
“No! Stay back...j-just stay there honey!”
Sobs tore through you, and all you could do was wrap your arms around yourself. You could feel the stickiness of Sara’s blood on your arms. Your shirt clung to your skin from the blood. Pieces of hair, both yours and Sara’s, were plastered on your face and neck.
The sight of your own parents cowering in fear caused you to turn and look back at her body. It was unrecognizable. The tears in your eyes caused your vision to blur and her body looked like nothing more than a large blob of red.
What had you done?
You fell to your knees, crawling over to her body and grabbing what remained of her face. You just wanted to see her eyes again, you needed to count her freckles again, braid her hair...
“Sara...”
Sobs wracked through you so much it was painful, and you felt as if you couldn’t breathe.
“Sara!”
Cradling her face, thumbs stroking beneath her eyes, you tried to will her back to you; you wished to go back in time and change something, anything, that would undo this. You were a monster. No, more than a monster. A scourge upon the Earth. A mistake. A wretched, cruel, evil little thing.
Was it worth it?
You felt yourself being torn away from her, hoisted up in your father’s arms. You wished he was going to kill you, letting yourself go limp as you continued to sob. He carried you into the bathroom, your mother following close behind, still sobbing quietly. He placed you gently in the tub and then turned on the faucet. He held out his hand, checking the temperature and then guided you closer to the stream of water. “Go ahead and get cleaned up, sweetie…”
And then they both left, closing the bathroom door behind them.
The temperature of the water went unnoticed by you. Time went by unnoticed by you. You sat in the tub, frozen, shivering and still in your blood-soaked clothing. You could hear yelling muffled by the closed door, only catching bits and pieces of the conversation happening in the other room.
“We always knew that something...didn’t we?”
“That is still my child! That is our child!”
“I don’t know what to do!”
More sobbing could be heard before it became eerily quiet.
You felt your chest tighten, your stomach churning as the reality of the situation began to set in. They were going to turn you in. Or kill you; a mercy killing, as if you were a rabid dog. You thought they should have. But they were going to make you tell Sara’s parents first, probably. They could help put you down. You should be clean for that. You stood and began to peel off your clothes, adjusting the stream of water and then standing beneath the shower head.
Of everything that happened that night, one of the things you remember most vividly was the color of the water, in such a striking contrast to the white of the tub and illuminated underneath the bright bathroom lights. It was so red, with small clumps of coagulated blood and flesh mixing into it as it pooled around your feet before swirling down the drain.
Once you were thoroughly clean, you finally moved to get out of the tub, wrapping a towel around your body and drying your hair in the same manner you always did, out of habit. If not for the lingering smell and taste of blood and your bloodshot and swollen eyes you could almost have fooled yourself into believing it was like every other night. You felt the urge to get some tea and a snack after getting into your comfortable pajamas, afterwards popping your head into your parents’ bedroom to say goodnight before you went to bed yourself. The longing you felt, in that moment, to return to the simpler times battled with the full feeling in your stomach and the knowledge that your life would never be the same. Perhaps that would be a good thing, you thought; perhaps this was who you were supposed to be.
This is who you are.
To this day, you don’t know precisely what your parents had been talking about as you washed yourself of sin. You assume they were discussing their next moves, about what to do with you, all while questioning if their love for you was worth it and enough to cover up such a brutal crime. However that conversation truly went, you figured out after leaving the bathroom that they had come to a mutual agreement. They sat on the couch in the darkened living room, several feet apart, and they both looked up as you entered the room. It may have been a trick of the light, but you could have sworn you saw a flash of fear in their eyes.
Your mother had then ushered you over to the couch in between her and your father, and she held you, stroking your hair as she stared blankly at the wall in front of her.
“Why, sweetheart?” Her voice was full of defeat, of disbelief. Despite the events of the night and what you had done, she didn’t sound angry, or disgusted. And neither of them had turned you away or called the police.
It took you awhile to answer, but you eventually settled on a quiet “I don’t know.”
You looked at your father and then up at her, your voice small as you spoke and barely loud enough to hear. “It won’t happen again. I promise.”
You meant it at the time.
They both sat quietly, your mother squeezing you slightly and your father continuing to stare at the blank TV screen.
In that moment, they truly felt that their love was worth it, that it was enough. You were still theirs; they were still yours. They had been trying for children for years before they found you, and you were their miracle. There was no going back now, they could abandon their daughter or be dragged down alongside her.
The issue of Sara’s body and last known whereabouts caused a lot of problems. You were surprised to find that your mother and father had already moved it, her, while you were showering, though you didn’t know where and you still have no clue. The trouble was largely due to the fact that her parents knew that she had been at your house for a sleepover, and they had met your parents on numerous occasions. When she didn’t return in the morning, they would know where to look first. An entire family disappearing at the same time as an unrelated child would be a dead giveaway and suggestive of who was at fault.
It wasn’t difficult for your parents to muster up the emotion, the tears, as they called Sara’s parents in the morning and asked if they had seen the two of you, explaining that they couldn’t find either of you that morning and that you had both gone missing. Their devastation was real. Officially, you had both gone missing the night before as your parents slept, last seen at the corner store earlier in the evening to buy snacks. The search lasted for weeks until they officially called it off, the both of you assumed to be lost, kidnapped. Your parents, devastated by their loss, were to leave town shortly after in an attempt to “move on”.
Before they made the call to Sara’s parents, they drove you up in the dead of night to the old vacation home to be safe in the meantime. It was quiet and private, and they made sure you had enough to last you while they tied up loose ends. This was a lonely time, but it gave you the room you needed to process your grief and this newfound side of yourself. Or, as close to processing as a fourteen-year-old who just ate her best friend is capable of. The guilt that consumed you was accompanied by something else more alarming. The feeling that followed Sara’s brutal death could best be described as something like an adrenaline rush, mixed with the pleased, comfortable feeling one might experience after eating a hearty meal. It reminded you of how you often felt after Christmas dinners, from eating more mashed potatoes and pie than you thought humanly possible. Satisfaction.
You missed it. For the first couple of weeks, you vacillated between being stuck in bed with crying jags to pacing around the house, out of both restlessness and the desire to forget how you had felt, covered in blood but fully sated. When your parents met you at the secluded home, you moved to pacing around in the attic to avoid bothering them or laying on the ground gritting your teeth and fighting the beast you felt inside of you.
This routine lasted almost a year, and you rarely left the house aside from the forced walks your parents took you on in the surrounding woods. Unbeknownst to you, your parents had been in contact with several people throughout this time, gathering false records and creating a plan for trying to move on with new identities, so that you could all return to some semblance of normalcy. They made you promise that nothing like this would ever happen again, confirming with you nearly every day that you were “fine”, and that your eating of Sara had simply been a lapse in judgement, a possession completely out of your control.
They never sought to try and explain it, at least with you. There were no conversations about how this behavior had come about, your motivations, what caused this. It was a topic they chose to ignore, rarely mentioning Sara or your lives before. At times, you got the unsettling but distinct feeling that they knew something they weren’t telling you, and that this avoidance was an attempt to bury it.
Once your new identities were formed and your parents were assured that you were fit to be seen in public again, safely, you moved and started at a new school. Something you never told your parents, in between your assurances, was that the urge hadn’t disappeared. Sara had awakened something in you, and it flared up every time you tuned yourself in to the people around you. You heard their hearts, smelled their flesh and blood, and felt the very essence of their being if you looked at them for too long. And you wanted them. You didn’t want them as friends, or lovers, or even just as acquaintances. You just...wanted. You yearned and hungered for them. Unexplainable at your young age, but understandable now.
You stopped dying your hair and making attempts at hiding your appearance. A small part of you wanted people to see these things and know that you were dangerous so that they would keep away from you. A more dominant part recognized that these features often drew them in, and you wanted that.
Sara wasn’t the only time you had such a fatal lapse in judgment. And she certainly wouldn’t be the last. The next one was a boy, who was nerdy in an endearing way and who showed interest in you despite your reticence and insistence that you didn’t want any friends. His first mistake was approaching you and inviting you to go to a football game with him later that week. His next one was taking the initiative to hold your hand on the bleachers. His last, and most fatal, was asking you to go on a walk with him before the game ended. The two of you ended up underneath the bleachers, and as you bit into his neck, his screams were drowned out by cheering.
Steven.
Then there was Cheryl, the friendly school librarian that took you under her wing. She told you she saw herself in you, because she was always shy and she had a hard time making friends, too. For vastly different reasons, you assume. That was one of the cases that required a speedy exit. You didn’t get to finish her.
Molly. Veronica. Robert—but he liked to be called Robbie. Mona.
You were a monster taking shape. You were sure that, if you had the capacity for such a thing, that you would grow horns, your spine would poke out from your skin and your teeth would grow into long fangs. Your appearance remained fairly unassuming, however.
With every victim, the urge only grew, and the amount of guilt you carried, and the length of satiation decreased as well. After a while, you and your parents had formed a routine, one that they executed with practiced movements. They could read your face after something had happened, and they would nod, and tell you to pack your bags and be ready to leave by morning. In some severe cases, where you were more likely to be linked to the scene, they gave you only an hour before hitting the road to your next life. You would go and fold the few clothes you had, packing your bags as they sifted through boxes of documents. Always prepared.
The fatigue wore them down. The disappointment. To your face, they rarely expressed how unhappy they were. They had a murderer for a child. A budding serial killer, more accurately. But love is blinding, and everything else fades into the background. They loved you, and nothing else mattered.
Fortunately for them, the love was mutual. Covering up your crimes and helping you clean the blood off of your skin or from your hair was taking a dangerous toll on them. Being afraid of their own child was taking a toll on them. The looks in their eyes, even accompanied by wide smiles and comforting hugs or touches, were indicative of the exhausting nature of their obligation to you, their love for you. You realized that you could free them from this. On your eighteenth birthday, you spent one last night with them in the scantily decorated apartment you had recently moved into, and you blew out the candles on your store-bought cake and wished for their happiness. You wished for them to find it in themselves to move on, to live a life without you and without the burden you carried. Once they had gone to bed, you returned to the familiar box of documents and grabbed your original birth certificate and adoption papers, along with some backup false ones and other files, and a small handful of cash, just to get you by. And then you left your parents. To thank them; to protect them.
You suppose a life of solitude wouldn’t be too bad. It was rare for you to stay in one place for very long anyway. It would be better this way.
Thanks for reading!
Thoughts and comments are always appreciated :)
#aemond x reader#hotd au#tw: cannibalism#tw: death#tw: body horror#tw: blood#aemond targaryen#aemond fanfiction#aemond x fem!reader#aemond one eye#hotd aemond#house of the dragon aemond#house of the dragon#hotd fanfic#prince aemond targaryen#aemond x you#aemond Targaryen x reader
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This is to everyone who has a partner!! With that in mind if this is too intrusive, you don’t have have to answer these questions, all of this is on you. I won’t force you all whatsoever, it’s just something I have been wondering that is all. I myself have never expressed any of this so I won’t be answering this time around. So with that in mind let’s begin…
Q: How does your partner react to your love of Loki, and Mr. Hiddleston in turn?
Q: How did you tell your partner about your draw towards Loki, and Mr. Hiddleston in turn?
Q: Is there anything about your draw that you would hide from your partner not out of secretness, but out of bashfulness?
Q: What would your partner’s reaction be to meeting Mr. Hiddleston or any of his fictional variants?
Q: What would be your partner’s reaction if they met Mr. Hiddleston or Loki?
Q: Would you ever take your partner to meet Mr. Hiddleston if the opportunity presented itself?
Q: What is your partner’s opinion of Mr. Hiddleston?
Q: Which one of Mr. Hiddleston variants do you think would be the easiest to meet IRL?
In conclusion that is all I have to ask, through if you have your own question you want to know feel free to comment them down below, and I can see if I can add them.
@muddyorbsblr @mochie85 @mcufan72 @loki-smut-library @lady-rose-moon @lokisgoodgirl @lokisbirdofhermes @lokisprettygirl @ijuststareatstuffhereok89 @anonymousfiction211 @asgardwinter @starlight-loki @smolvenger @eleniblue @holdmytesseract @evelyn-kingsley @iamlokisgloriouspurpose @wheredafandomat @writings-of-my-own @five-miles-over @peachyjinx @lokiprompts @lokischambermaid
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As the River Flows - ACOTAR Gift Exchange (4/8)
Summary: As Feyre lamented quietly over the misfortune of her life, there, in the marketplace, she heard a merchant instruct to its patron: Place a butterfly wing under your tongue before you sleep, and you will dream of your true love.
This is part three of my @acotargiftexchange for the lovely @sideralwriting. Please forgive me for being slow to update! My buisness trip abroad delayed me, but I am striving to finish this as soon as possible!
Read on AO3・Feysand Month Masterlist・Series Masterlist
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The Archeron sisters’ education had been exhaustive.
Feyre had always felt her life was reduced to little more than the four walls of the manor’s library where their strict governess had taught them everything sophisticated ladies ought to know. Yet for all those painstaking hours Feyre had spent broadening her lexicon and sharpening her wit, all with the intention of being a charming companion in conversation, she couldn’t summon a single word in the face of the Prince of the North.
There was so much she wished to say. But someone had swiped their hands down the fresh ink of her mind, leaving it smudged and blotched. An illegible smear of letters and emotions, some discernible—like fear—others confusing. Like admiration.
He was beautiful. She had not seen many faces outside of those in her family’s manor, but she would wager confidently that the man standing before her was the most beautiful. And from the twinkle of amusement in his eyes, the easy set of his shoulders, the way he had intimidated his way to the center of the room, she would wager also the most cruel. How could anyone look so smug in the wake of her family’s humiliation?
When we we meet, I will look into your eyes, and I will tell you that they are the most beautiful color I have ever seen.
It couldn’t be him. It couldn’t. The man she had exchanged letters with was kind. Was gentle. He would never instill such fear in a room simply by being present.
Prince Rhysand extended a large hand, folding his palm open to reveal a small pool of diamonds and sapphires. She stared, dumbfounded, before he explained, “To honor your 21st birthday, I brought along a gift from my Kingdom. Allow me to put it on you.”
Blue, Feyre thought, staring at the sapphires. What color are your eyes, darling? I want to ensure they match the gemstone I pick out for my future bride.
The crowd began to murmur, uneasy, and Feyre’s eyes sought their audience for someone who could tell her what she should do. They didn’t know what she did, that this man was potentially her soulmate. All they knew was that the King of the North had brought a gift, and to turn it down would be an insult. But to accept it was to incur a debt Feyre was not certain she was prepared to pay.
Nesta. Her eyes found Nesta’s, razor sharp with a focus Feyre had confronted many times over the years. On any day, they were evenly matched, but Feyre had never entered a battle of wits against Nesta and emerged victorious when her eldest sister had that look in her eyes. Slowly, she nodded, prompting Feyre to turn her back to the Prince and raise her hair in invitation.
The heat of his body surrounded her first, warming her back. It surprised her, because she had expected him to be cold, like the snow-capped mountains of his lands. She expected to feel like she was standing before a snow drift, to breathe in and find that the crisp pine air still clung to his clothes. Instead as his scent enveloped her, Feyre was reminded of the first time she had climbed onto the roof to see the stars. She had cut her palm against the rough stone on the way up, and the night air had stung the wound reprovingly. But it had also kissed her flushed skin, tumbled through her loose hair, and danced in the hem of her night gown. She’d reached her palms towards the endless sparkling sky, relishing the blood and sweat and starlight, how the air mingled with the scent of jasmine growing up the trellis, and the grove of orange blossoms just below.
Rhysand smelled of danger, and freedom.
A pair of large brown hands reached over her shoulder to unspool the delicate chain of diamonds and hang it, gently, over her collarbone. It was heavy, which was to be expected considering each of the sapphires was approximately the size of her thumb. But Feyre hardly cared about the jewelry. What was more important was her throat’s vulnerable position between the Prince’s hands, how he intentionally brushed his fingers over her skin, just to send a shudder down her spine. He laughed, skimming his knuckles over the back of her neck once he had finished securing the clasp.
She knew he had spied the way her skin prickled under his touch, because he asked, “Are you cold, Miss Feyre?”
“Yes, your highness,” she responded, because to admit that she wasn’t cold was all the more condemning. Why then, would her flesh have pimpled?
Feyre turned, only to again glimpse the humor in his eyes and realize that she’d fallen into one of his traps when he held out his elbow in offering. “Perhaps a dance will warm you up, then.”
It was already expected that she would dance with the Prince. She held her tongue from reminding him that he had demanded as much from her father. The fear hanging in the room, thicker than the tendrils of smoky darkness wafting from Rhysand, was a warning in itself that she shouldn’t incur his wrath. Feyre folded her hand around his arm, allowing him to lead her through the gaping crowd.
No one else was dancing.
The music had stopped, but one sharp look from the Prince in the direction of the orchestra shortly rectified the issue. A violin warbled its first note, and as the rest of the company followed, the Prince swept her into movement. It was a nightmare to think that everyone was watching this moment. She had never been a confident dancer, not anything at all like Nesta, and their governess had always assured she need only be competent enough to not step on her partner’s toes.
He’ll be far more taken by your fortune and beauty, Feyre had been told.
Elain had consoled, There will be so many others dancing that no one will notice if you stumble a beat.
Prince Rhysand raised both of his dark brows. “Are you nervous, lady?”
Her entire face felt hot, a consequence of her boiling tongue stewing in the suppression of everything she wanted to say. Of course I’m nervous. You usurped our family’s ball, intimidated my father, and forced me to dance in front of every watching eye.
“Not at all, your highness.”
“Please, call me Rhys.” She wouldn’t dare act so familiar with him. Even when she could feel his hand burning into the space between her shoulder blades, as familiar a presence as her own heartbeat. That hand pushed, arching her back so he could lower her into a dip as they turned. She felt her hair sweep the floor, but more alarming was the press of his body as he leaned over her.
Their eyes met. Such a vivid color, like the final moments of twilight. The surrounding ballroom swam, allowing her to forget for a moment that everyone else was watching as she studied the hidden stars in the pools of violet. Rhysand smiled at her, this one not poised for an audience. A secret, lovely smile, just for her.
In a smooth motion, he guided her back to her feet, then spun her around so that her dress billowed out beneath her. Rhysand was doing such a good job at leading her movements that Feyre actually felt graceful.
He whispered, once she was spun back into the safety of his grasp, “You’re the loveliest one here and they didn’t even know it.”
Feyre blushed. “You haven’t seen my sisters dance.”
“I don’t need to.”
It was troublesome, certainly, that she was finding the Prince charming after a few well placed twirls and smiles. To remind herself what he was, she asked, “Did you have a long journey, your highness?”
“Rhys,” he corrected with a frown. “And the longest part of it was waiting to see you.”
He was evading her with flattery. Feyre wouldn’t let herself fall for it, despite how her pulse had become a fluttering creature in her throat.
“How long a journey, would you say?”
“Seven days by carriage.” At her expression, he smiled. “I do live on the other side of the continent.”
“That’s a long way to travel to attend a ball you weren’t invited to.”
Feyre watched his expression carefully, waiting for him to take offense. He only offered her a wicked grin, then leaned in close to whisper. “Oh, but Feyre darling, I was invited.”
Feyre darling.
It glided on his tongue, just like it had in her dream.
“What do you know of magic?” He asked, before releasing her into another spin. Her eyes locked to his, keeping steady on her violet focal point as the melody twirled around her.
Rhysand caught her again, this time pulling her closer than she had been before.
It was an effort to swallow. Push past the haze of his beauty and his charm and his heat and his smell. Shadows curled around her, and Feyre tried to push those—and all her curiosity concerning them—away as well.
“Nothing,” she said, forcing rigidity into her voice. “I don’t know anything about magic. I’m forbidden from even speaking of it.”
“Very well.” Rhysand’s eyes trailed down, scorching a blaze over her where they traveled. Down her neck, along her collarbone, then further, to the hem of the white lace at her elbow. Feyre stiffened. She knew he noticed that, too. “Tell me something else then.”
“Like what?” Feyre tried very hard to stay her rising panic, keep her voice neutral.
“Do you enjoy catching butterflies?”
He only said it to be shocking. To call her out by saying, you know who I really am. But a different thought occurred to her, one that made her press her brows together. “Do they have butterflies in the North, your highness?”
They certainly wouldn’t now, not in the middle of winter. In fact, Feyre believed that the only way one could secure a butterfly at this time of year was to be in a place where spring nestled eternal.
Rhysand’s smile fell. The music was coming to a close and the bravest among the crowd began pushing back into the ballroom floor, trying to spur life back into the stagnant ball. She turned her head away, searching for Nesta and Elain. For what, she didn’t know. If Feyre told them her dilemma, their minds would already be decided. They wouldn’t consider the possibility that Rhysand could be her true love and Feyre… Feyre wasn’t certain what to believe.
“May I cut in for the next dance?”
Rhysand likely would have ignored the request, but Feyre had stopped. She had forgotten, whilst dancing with him, how intimidating he had been on arrival. Feyre thought she’d merely adjusted to his presence, until those violet eyes turned to Tamlin. The tendrils of darkness gathered closer, rolling over the Prince’s fine, rich clothing almost as though it were dancing to the music. He already cut an intimidating figure from his height, but the raw power and authority he wielded made Feyre’s heartbeat stutter. To Tamlin’s credit, he did not cower when the Prince offered him a slow smile.
“Lord Tamlin,” he crooned. “A pleasure to be in your lands, as always. Terribly difficult to find, though.”
Feyre stiffened. “These are my father’s lands,” she said, knowing that the edge to her voice was too defensive.
The Prince still hadn’t released her from his hold. She could feel his fingers tighten as he ducked in closer. His lips brushed her ear as he asked quietly, “Are you certain?”
“Yes,” she said, impulsively.
Loud enough for Tamlin to hear. He must have recognized the distress in her voice because he stepped closer, voice laced in warning as he said, “Enough.”
“I just have one more question for Feyre darling, before you sweep her off her pretty feet. Who casts the magic that keeps your manor in spring? And for a man who wishes to keep his daughters far from magic, why even bother?”
She was being pulled away now, Tamlin’s hand gentle, yet urgent, on her arm. “Never mind him,” the Duke said. But how could she, when he had posed the questions she’d been wondering all her life, as though he knew their answers?
Her eyes stayed on Rhysand’s, feet operating on instinct alone to follow Tamlin’s motions, until he forced her into a spin that jerked her eyes away. And when she whirled to face those gentle green eyes, she knew she must have looked as wild as her governess accused of her being. “Do you own my father’s lands?”
Tamlin hesitated, clearly taken aback by her abrupt question. For a moment he looked to consider it, and she could see the moment he decided he wasn’t going to tell her, when he lifted his hand to spin her again—like the simple act of twirling would be enough to distract the silly woman from the gentleman’s affairs.
Be patient, she could hear her governess chide. Silence was a polite form of rejection, one she should adhere to. This was a suitor she hoped to marry. This was potentially her true love.
Air hissed behind her clenched teeth, too much pressure built up from containing herself. And then she released the pent up frustration with a muted, unladylike shriek that made him laugh. He ought to have considered himself lucky that there was nothing she could throw.
“Tell me, Tamlin,” she snapped. Not your grace. “Or so help me I will—”
She didn’t know what she would do. What could she hold over a Duke, aside from the threat of exiting the dance?
Tamlin sighed. “You musn’t trust a word Rhysand says. He is an expert at weaving lies and manipulations. His magic allows him to glimpse what others are thinking, to read their deepest fears and hopes, and craft that knowledge to his advantage.”
That pierced a hole right through Feyre, deflating all her anger until her chest rang hollow. “Oh,” she whispered.
That explained very much, indeed.
Feeling very much the fool Elizabeth had accused her of being, Feyre did her best to smile for Tamlin in an effort to smooth over her outburst. Though the Prince’s presence remained a stain on the evening, and his eyes a brand on her back, Feyre hoped that they could move on from this misstep. She only needed to get through a few more hours before she could inform her father that her preference was to marry Duke Tamlin. Her true love.
Even if the Duke did own their father’s lands, as Prince Rhysand had insinuated, perhaps that was all the more reason he was an advantageous match. The manor would stay in their family, and…
And Feyre would never see the world beyond the rosy spring.
She didn’t know why her eyes were stinging, and she hoped Tamlin couldn’t notice behind the radiant smile she’d copied from Elain. “I don’t believe you finished answering my question earlier. What do you think of the stars?”
Tamlin’s smile was coy, a secret between soft lips she could still feel tingling against her own the longer she stared at them. It had only been a month ago when she’d let him kiss her, and perhaps tonight, she’d let him do it again.
He turned her, so that her back was flush against his chest, and said into her ear, “The stars pale in comparison to your beauty, Feyre.”
For Feyre, who thought the stars were the most captivating thing she’d ever seen—until Prince Rhysand, she supposed—it should have been a wonderful compliment. Yet she found herself grateful her back was turned to Tamlin, so that he could not see the way her smile fell, and how her eyes somehow found Rhysand’s.
He was perched against one of the pillars on the outskirts of the ballroom, a glass of red wine pinched between his fingers. The crowd was keeping a healthy distance away from him, so he was easy enough to spot. Those dark brows rose as he took a casual sip of his drink, holding her gaze as though to say, something the matter?
Nothing. Nothing was the matter, except that she was letting him get to her head. He was probably inside it right now, laughing as he picked through her thoughts like a merchant looking for something valuable to trade. Just in case he was, Feyre decided to hone her focus into one, singular thought: prick.
Feyre didn’t know if it worked, because Tamlin spun her around at that moment. She noticed his eyes flicker to the sapphire necklace draped across her throat. If it bothered him, he didn’t say, though she did recall that he had promised a birthday present as well. Perhaps the Prince’s gift had intimidated him from presenting it to her, or maybe he was saving it for another occasion. She bit her tongue from the foolish need to insist that though she was wearing the heavy spectacle of a necklace, she would have much rather been wearing something from Tamlin.
He said nothing, and so did Feyre.
And when the music ended, she let him guide her into the next song. Then the next.
The statement she was making was clear. To her father, to the other suitors, to Prince Rhysand: she had found her match. One that was powerful and wealthy enough that even her Father couldn’t protest.
By the final song, the night was shaping up perfectly. Rhysand had slithered off somewhere, presumably having lost interest in the youngest Archeron, though Feyre hadn’t spied him elsewhere on the dance floor. She suspected His Royal Highness didn’t take well to rejection. Her sisters seemed to have been doing well, too. They’d danced with an assortment of Lords, one or two of which they’d looked genuinely happy to converse with. Even despite the Prince’s intrusion, the evening had gone better than any of them had expected.
“May I entreat the birthday girl to one more dance?”
Feyre should have anticipated his approach from the way Tamlin’s body tensed, but she had admittedly been daydreaming, letting her body be host to the Duke’s movements as he glided them across the ballroom. Little more than a cloud floating at the mercy of the wind. She was stiff now, having recognised the warm fronted voice at her back.
“The lady has informed me that she’s feeling fatigued,” Tamlin said, teeth gritted so firmly it sounded like he was talking around a mouth of gravel.
Rhsyand didn’t sound at all affronted. The fine velvet of his voice remained even as he crooned, “Then perhaps you should have let her rest between dances.” He clicked his tongue disapprovingly. “The least you could do is fetch her some refreshments. Have you eaten, Feyre?”
She was hungry, truthfully, but she’d been avoiding the refreshment table at the risk of encountering Rhysand there. Was this how the butterfly had felt, trapped beneath her glass? He had staged this perfectly, so that she was cornered between admitting she was fatigued and dismissing Tamlin to the refreshment table, or insisting that she was well enough for a last dance with the Prince.
Assuming, of course, that she was a lady confined by societal convention. It was rude to turn down Rhysand’s offer, just as it was rude to have danced with Tamlin for the majority of the night.
“Forgive me, your highness,” she said, bowing as much into a curtsey as her pride would allow. “I am quite well, but I would like to see if I could find my sisters.”
“Allow me to escort you, then.” He offered his hand to her, smile unbesmirched by her rejection. “Perhaps we can pass by the refreshment table on our way.”
Her fingers found his in some bodily act of defiance. She had been ready to reject this offer, too, and yet his hand was closing around hers, warming her skin through the satin glove. Rhysand began to guide her a way, but paused when another hand grabbed her arm and pulled. Feyre stopped, and the satin slipped under Rhysand’s hold. She tried her best to keep her composure, all too aware of the tattoo now crawling out of the lace hem.
Keep your chin up. That was Nesta’s voice in the back of her head, reminding Feyre that if she didn’t look, didn’t draw attention, then the gentleman in her presence wouldn’t notice.
They were too focused glaring at each other, anyway.
“I am happy to escort the lady,” Tamlin said. “As you have pointed out, I failed to look after her this evening. Allow me to make a recompense.”
Rhysand only looked amused. A new game afoot. He turned his eyes to Feyre and his smile dropped at whatever laid on her expression.
In the corner of the room, the orchestra began playing the next song. Her heart rate picked up with the allegro. Rhysand didn’t need to look at her elbow to know what unnerved her, surely the pulse thundering out of her chest would have been sufficient. Or the thoughts in her mind, which he could open at ease. Her most private self reduced to little more than a book he could peruse at his leisure.
Rhysand leaned forward, wedging his shoulder in the space between Feyre and Tamlin. As he did, his fingers slipped up her glove, pulling the fabric back over her elbow. He whispered, “It’s a shame you feel the need to hide such a pretty tattoo.” Then he released her and took a step back with a small, dismissive nod to Tamlin. “Ensure she gets something to eat.”
The Prince fell away into the crowd—though, more accurately, the crowd fell away from him. Parting a tunnel that sealed in his wake. She wondered where he was going, if he would be leaving now that the night was nearly finished or if he was staying somewhere nearby. It was an awfully long journey to the Northern Kingdom.
“What was that?” Tamlin asked, already guiding her the opposite direction.
Feyre was utterly breathless and when she spoke, she wondered if Tamlin could even hear her. “He was wishing me farewell.”
But Feyre didn’t believe for one moment that was the last she would see of the Prince.
-
Feyre woke the next morning to the sound of screaming.
There was a loud crash, like something had shattered, followed by shouting she couldn’t decipher. She climbed out of bed, trying not to feel disappointed that her true love hadn’t visited in her sleep. There were certainly more important things to concern herself with, like the fact that it sounded like someone was being murdered in their manor.
The voices became louder as she hurried downstairs. A feminine shrill led her to their father’s study, where Feyre opened the door to the sight of an airborne crystal glass being lobbed at their father’s head.
“You bastard!” Nesta shrieked. Her cheeks were blotched with anger—a familiar sight, but the tear stains certainly weren’t. She screamed again. A furious, anguished sound punctuated by glass splintering against the wooden floor.
Remarkably, their father was silent in the wake of Nesta’s tantrum. Pinched face, grim silence. Elain was there, too, standing pale-faced in the corner like a ghost haunting the room. She burst into tears when she saw Feyre come in.
Nesta swiveled at the sound, and Feyre tried not to be daunted at the storm of hot anger rushing towards her, shouting, “Father has agreed to marry you to Prince Rhysand!”
Feyre choked on the air in her lungs, certain she’d misheard. “He—What?”
Their father sat up in his chair, fingers pinched on the bridge of his nose. As though it caused him physical suffering to witness such emotional outbursts. He said with far too much confidence in his authority, “Prince Rhysand has demanded your hand in marriage. I am in no position to refuse.”
“I am!” Feyre cried, pressing her hand to her chest in an attempt to hold back the nausea climbing her throat. “I’ll refuse him myself.��
“You will do no such thing!”
The threat cracked through the room with an unexpected sharpness, throwing Feyre’s back straight with memory of rapped knuckles and bruised bottoms. She held her eyes wide, willing the sting away. Her teeth sunk into her cheek until she tasted copper in the back of her throat. That pain was easier to manage, easier to control.
“She danced all night with the Duke,” Nesta reasoned. Feyre couldn’t help but be surprised at the desperation creeping into her sister’s voice. For the first time, perhaps in their entire lives, Nesta was on the verge of pleading. “If you are in need of wealth or land, then surely the Duke would be just as advantageous—“
Their Father remained stone faced, untouched by the unexpected sentiment. “Feyre is marrying Prince Rhysand, and that is final.”
“Why?”
It surprised all of them, that small croak that came from the corner of the room. Elain’s hands were balled into fists at her sides and at their father’s stunned expression, unused to defiance from his most precious daughter, she repeated, “Why?”
But even Elain, who their father kept no secret of his preference towards, was unable to sway his sympathy. His face hardened. They all flinched as he slammed his closed fist to his desk. “Because I am the lord of this house and that is what has been decided.” He raised from his desk, staring at Nesta as though daring her to interrupt. Nesta pressed her lips together, but she didn’t need to speak in order to communicate the hatred burning in her eyes. “The Prince and I arranged matters last night. He set off this morning to obtain a special license with my written consent. When he returns, he will take Feyre with him to the North where a proper ceremony will take place.”
A Princess. Of the North. As far away from her True Love as he could possibly take her. Perhaps that was the cruel crux of Rhysand’s joke. Not pretending to be her true love at the ball, but deliberately taking her away from him. Stealing this one, final choice from her.
“Well,” Feyre said, smacking her lips together. She held her father’s gaze, letting him see all her resentment as it built up to the surface. So many years of towing the line of obedience and all it had earned her was misery. “I suppose I should begin packing my things.”
The heavy mahogany of the study doors stung Feyre’s palms from how forcefully she pushed them open. Hurried footsteps at her back told her Nesta and Elain were following, and soon they were at her heels with a barrage of questions.
Aren’t you going to fight him?
Why are you going along with this?
What will you tell the Duke?
Feyre didn’t betray a word. Once she was in her room, she retrieved a case to pack her things and began throwing anything she could fit into it.
Until Nesta slammed it shut. Feyre yelped, barely snapping her hands away in time.
“You can’t be serious,” Nesta said. “You’re going to let Father marry you to the Prince?”
“No.” Feyre calmly opened the case again. “I’m running away.”
Both her sisters stared blankly, neither saying anything for a moment.
Then, “Where will you go?”
It was Elain, who shoved onto the bed to look through the clothes Feyre had packed, as though assessing their practicality. “Father will find you if you stay on the manor’s grounds, and the rest of the world is in the midst of Winter.”
Nesta snorted. “Perhaps you were wise to sew the buttons back to your coat.”
“I won’t need it,” Feyre insisted, gazing toward the open window. “Not in Carterhaugh.”
“That’s the first place father will look,” Nesta said flatly. “And your Prince. Do you think he wouldn’t look for you?”
She was certain he would. Rhysand likely had magic to aid him. Perhaps it was a futile task and there was nowhere on this earth she could hide from him. Feyre still had to try.
“Then I’ll go somewhere else. Tamlin will come with me—”
“He’s a Duke,” Nesta cut off. “Why would he run away with you?”
Feyre’s breath left her in a rush. “Because he’s my true love. He told me he would see us married no matter the costs. He’d run away with me, I know it.”
Her sisters shared a look. As the youngest, Feyre recognized immediately what it meant: How do we explain that she’s being naive?
Nesta said cautiously, “How do you know?”
Another deep breath. Greedy, worried that if she didn’t swallow enough air in that moment, she would surely drown from the truth she was about to reveal.
“Magic.”
Seeing their expressions, Feyre rushed to explain, “I heard in the marketplace that if you place a butterfly wing under your tongue, your true love will come to you in your dreams. And Tamlin did. We’ve been talking for months. Not just in sleep, but in letters.” Quickly, Feyre scrambled for the parchment beneath her bed and thrust the letters towards them. “See?”
“Is this blood?” Elain asked, staring in horror at the red droplets at the bottom of the page.
“It’s part of the magic.” Feyre shifted nervously as they scanned through the letters he’d sent, half worried they’d bolt down to their Father’s study to show him that Feyre had broken his most sacred rule. Though he could hardly punish her more severely than marrying her to the Prince. “I don’t know how it works, particularly, but if I sign a letter with blood and cast it into the fire after sundown, it will get to him.”
Elain was still reading through the letters, lips pursed disapprovingly. “He sounds like a rake.”
“He is,” Feyre said with a soft laugh. “But do you see?” She leaned over Elain’s shoulder and pointed to the passage, finding it easily after how nights she’d read them quietly to herself before bed. “I will ensure that I am the one you marry. Whatever the cost.”
“It is very romantic,” Elain admitted begrudgingly. She hesitated. “But…”
“But men say things they don’t mean for the sake of romance. Your Tamlin may not be as willing to run away with you as he’s made you believe. Not if it means abandoning his title and becoming an enemy of the North.”
Feyre bristled, she turned to Elain, praying for her to disagree with Nesta’s assessment. Elain. Who had passionately told Feyre how she believed everyone had a perfect match. She was nervously chewing her lip, staring with wide brown eyes at the love letters.
“Who could have ever guessed that the Prince would show up?” She mused. “I’m sure when the Duke said ‘no matter the cost’, he was anticipating making a deal with Father. Something monetary, not…”
Not running away and leaving behind everything.
“Perhaps it’s not too late for him to make an arrangement,” Elain added, though Feyre could tell it was only for her benefit. Whatever deal Father had struck with Rhysand, it was clear there was no going back on it.
Feyre resumed her packing, pretending the empty space in her case were her sisters’ doubts. That she could smother them by simply pushing the clothes in further.
“I don’t care,” she said, pulling together more confidence than she felt. “If the Duke won’t come with me, then I’ll run away on my own. I will not be going to the North.”
Though where she would run and how she would survive was still yet to be decided. Feyre was well aware she’d never seen the world beyond her Father’s manor, which made her very ill-equipped for whatever lay beyond the large stone walls.
Still, her mind didn’t waver. By the time evening fell and her sisters departed with tearful goodbyes, Feyre sat at her writing desk to send one final letter to her true love.
My dearest rake,
It was lovely to meet you at the ball. Indeed, you were as present and dashing as you promised you would be. On a regular occasion, I’m certain my father would have been suitably impressed and selected you as the suitor I’m to marry.
Unfortunately, and with the deepest sorrow in my heart, I am writing to inform you that this is not the case. My father has hatched a scheme to see me married to Prince Rhysand. No heartfelt protests from myself nor my sisters has been able to persuade him, so I am left to take drastic measures.
I will be running away tonight. I very much hope that you will accompany me, though my sisters are doubtful that you will be willing to abandon your title to do so. Still, I will wait for you at the gates to the Archeron manor. If by midnight you have not come to meet me, I will assume I am to carry on without your company.
Yours, and only ever yours,
Feyre Archeron
#As the River Flows#Feysand#Feysand fic#Feysand fanfic#Feysand fanfiction#Rhys x Feyre#Feyre x Rhys#Rhysand x Feyre#Feyre x Rhysand
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Unholy
Chapter 2: Say It Again
Pairing: Strange Supreme X Female!Reader
Genre: Romance, SMUT
Warnings: SMUT, ABSOLUTE FILTH
Summary: Stephen has been struggling with the idea that you want him, despite his monstrous capabilities. When one night he decides to show you his demonic forms from all the creatures he’s absorbed. However, you surprise him with your response and he decides to give you the night of your life. He was something truly...Unholy.
Summary + Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3
The next day you left for your home to get some things for your stay in the Sanctum. Ever since last night, you couldn’t stop thinking about what happened. His ravenous hunger, his rough touch, and his snake-like tongue. You grinned seeing the purple sheer night robe and dark red lace lingerie, it was perfect! You packed that in your small suitcase.
The portal opened again and you stepped through eagerly. You made your way back to the bedroom and sat on the bed, changing into a sweater and pants. “Stephen, honey? Where are you?” You called out and stretched your arms.
“In the library, starlight.” His voice echoed through the halls. You made your way over and smiled brightly seeing him. Stephen turned to you and embraced you softly. “Mmm, I missed you.” He said burying his head in your hair.
“Stephen, I was only gone for ten minutes!” You giggled.
“Felt like an eternity.”
“You’re so sweet.” You pulled back and kissed his lips softly. Stephen matched the passion of your kiss and cupped your cheeks. You let out a soft moan, clashing your tongue against his. Stephen moved his hand to grip your hips.
“I need you, Stephen~” You moaned softly.
“I-I think we should take it slower, darling, I’m fine with kissing you...I just don’t want to hurt you again.” Stephen pulled back from the kiss.
You kissed his cheek, “I told you, love of my life, I’m okay...” Stephen looked into your eyes and stroked your hair back softly. “Stephen...I want to confess something...I don’t want you to get worried, okay? Just listen.” You smiled sweetly and he nodded. You held his hands in yours and kissed his cheek. “I want you to show me your full form...I couldn’t stop thinking about how...Hot it was.” You bit your lip.
Stephen’s eyes grew wide and he blushed. He looked down at your hands, his face turned red. You wanted to see...All of him? You weren’t scared? You LIKED it?? Stephen took a deep breath and looked up at you finally.
“I’m...Glad you found it pleasing...Though I can't help but think you may have hit your head,” He joked lightly, “But I can’t...I can’t let myself loose again.”
You pouted but nodded, “Okay...But just know...I love you no matter how you look.” You kissed his lips softly and wrapped her arms around him, embracing him. Stephen moved to go back to reading his books and brought you over to lay on top of him. You nuzzled your head under his chin and closed your eyes. You began to scheme a plan to make him comfortable or provoke him enough to show his form. You wanted to prove to Stephen that you didn’t care what he looked like.
Hours later, you were in the bathroom while Stephen was resting on the bed. You took a deep breath and looked at yourself in the mirror. You looked like a temptress hopefully for man and creature. You fixed your hair and tied the robe ribbon in a bow right under your breasts. You were his present. You turned around and left the bathroom.
“Stephen~,” You said in a sultry voice. Stephen dropped the book on the bed when he looked up at you. His eyes were wide, cheeks turning pink, and his mouth agape. You grinned at his reaction and sauntered over to him. “What are you reading?” You teased when you sat on the bed and picked up the book.
Stephen was speechless and forgot how to breathe. When he finally did remember, he leaned in close to you, “W-Where did this come from?”
“Oh, this little thing? Just something I found in the closet.” You purred.
Stephen felt an animalistic hunger stir inside of him. “You are such a seductress, my love.” He bit his lip looking at where the bow was tied.
“Stephen, I want you so badly...” You pleaded putting your hands on his chest. He moved his hands to roam your curves and kept one hand on your hip. The other hand traveled over your breasts, groping them lightly, his eyes dark with lust.
“You greedy little thing~” His demonic voice came out and his hand moves to wrap around your throat. You let out a gasp and saw his eyes changing into those demonic ones. “We told you it wouldn’t be wise and yet here you are, tempting us...A minx like you should be punished~” He licked his lips with his long tongue.
“Then punish me...” You moaned when you felt his clawed hand moved between your legs.
Stephen’s eyes went back to normal and he gasped seeing what he was doing. “Darling...I don’t think...What if I hurt you?” Stephen gave you a soft look.
“It’s okay Stephen, I love you. I want this.” You leaned in and kissed him.
His eyes changed into his demon ones again and he gripped your hair with his other hand and yanked your head back. “Say that again.” He growled.
“I love you and I want this.”
Horns grew from atop his head, wings sprouted from his back, his long tail grew from his cocyx, and scales formed on the sides of his face. “Say it again!” He roared and pinned you down, caging you. You leaned closer to him and looked him dead in the eye.
“I love you and I. Want. This.” You firmly said.
Stephen kissed you hard, wrapping his forked tongue around your tongue. You let out a moan, arching your back at the action. It felt so foreign but so good. He pulled back from the kiss, saliva dripping down his chin. “Tasty just like candy~” He grinned showing off his sharp teeth, “Time to unwrap our gift~”
He moved one clawed hand to rest on your thigh and the other hand undid the bow of your night robe. He pushed down the robe to show off your lacy lingerie. He let out a shaky breath seeing your heavenly body. You were an angel and he a demon. He leaned down, his long tongue leaving a wet trail from your belly to the valley of your breasts.
Meanwhile, he snapped his clawed fingers to make his clothes completely disappear. His long and thick demonic cock sprung up hard and erect to a full eight inches.
“Stephen....” You moaned feeling his tongue on your skin.
“Yes, little one?” He purred and finally got to your neck, pressing light kisses.
“Need you...” You said softly, moving your hands in his hair and stroking his horns.
Stephen let out a moan feeling your soft fingers on the ridges of his horns. He bit down on your neck hard, drawing blood, and sucked it from your neck to soothe the mark. “You are ours, starlight, only ours!” He growled in your ear, rocking his hips against yours.
“O-Only yours! Fuck Stephen!” You wrapped your legs around his waist. Stephen leaned back, chuckling darkly. He lowered your legs and flipped you over so you were on your stomach. His tail wrapped around your right thigh, squeezing it lightly. He gripped your hips and pulled you to him, hips pressed together. You wriggled your ass and he kept your hips still.
“Remember, we have to punish you, little one~” He smirked and smacked your right ass cheek hard. You let out a gasp at the sharp pain and gripped the sheets. His claws worked quickly to tear your lingerie to shreds, not wanting to waste more time. His cock began to leak with precum, craving to be inside of you. He slapped your left ass cheek this time, loving the way it jiggled.
He leaned down and kissed where he slapped your cheeks. “Are you alright, little one?” Some of his normal voice came out.
You nodded, “Yes, Stephen, I’m okay.”
Stephen began to rub your clit slowly and grinned when he felt your wetness. “My my, someone likes to be spanked~” He chuckled. You moaned louder when he resumed rubbing your clit and grinding his cock between your folds. He pushed you down more and raised your ass up to press against your hips. He slowly entered your pussy, inch by inch.
You gripped the sheets harder and threw your head back. “Y-You’re so big!!” You screamed in pleasure feeling his cock expand your pussy.
He leaned down to press kisses along your spine. “Deep breaths, little one, you’re tight. We can’t fit it all until you relax.” He brushed your hair back and showed off your right shoulder. He pressed kisses along your shoulder and felt you relax slowly. He turned your head to kiss you tenderly and finally fit all of him inside of you. He stayed still, letting you adjust while he kissed you.
You pulled back and bit on his lower lip. “Such a gentleman~”
Stephen let out a deep purr that vibrated your back due to his closeness. “Only the best for you~” He kissed you again and pulled out completely. He gripped your hips now, claws digging in deep. He used his knees to spread your legs further apart and his wings expanded. His wings caged around you and you moved your hands to grip the forearms of his wings. He thrusted his cock deep inside of you and you screamed his name.
Even though you had previously adjusted against him, it still stung due to his size. His pace started off painfully slow, he was being careful with you even though you felt so good around him. You were his perfect woman, taking him so well.
“S-Stephen, please...M-More...” You mewled and he nodded. He began to increase his pace, his thrusts deep and rough. Your mouth hung open, and the air in your lungs was knocked out almost every time he thrusted. Your grip on his forearms became tighter. You thought you were going to pass out from his cock. He slowed down a little, giving you a chance to catch your breath. You were so thankful for him, of his tenderness despite his form.
When you caught your breath you turned your head and looked at him over your shoulder. You simply nodded and he picked up the pace again. He moved one hand from your hip to grope your breasts and grip them with one hand. He pressed his chest to your back and kissed you roughly. “S-Stephen...I’m going to cum...” You grunted against his lips.
“Then release our darling, our angel, our little one~” He purred and his hips pistoning his cock in and out of you, wanting you to cum. And he succeeded, you came hard on his cock and let out a scream in pleasure. He kissed you passionately and his hand that was around your breast cradled your face. “Where do you want us, darling?” He asked.
“In me...Please, Stephen, I want you to fill me up!” You moaned. He kissed you again and pulled back his face from yours. He leaned his back off of yours and gripped your hips with his claws again. He began to fuck you harder, chasing his orgasm. In the midst of him going deeper into you, he hit your G-spot, causing you to cum involuntarily. You moved your hands to grip the thumbs of his wings as you rode out your high, your breasts bouncing violently at the force of his thrusts.
“I’m cuming, angel, I’m...Cumming!” He roared as he came inside of you, filling you up like you wanted. Your legs shook so much and your grip on his wings loosened.
“Fuck!!” You grunted, taking all of his cum. He overstuffed you with his cum and you could feel it trickling down your legs. “Stephen...Oh, fuck...” You panted heavily and his wings closed around you to catch you before you collapsed. The wings cradled you and he flipped you over so you were on your back against his wings.
He leaned down to kiss your head. “Love?” His normal voice came out again.
You gave him a goofy smile and moved your hands to cup his face, stroking the scales. “That was amazing...” You giggled.
He smiled widely and kissed your swollen lips tenderly. “Let me get you to the shower, little one~” His demon voice purred and he scooped you up with ease to the bathroom. “Oh and...You’re going to be very sore tomorrow, angel. Maybe even for the next few days.”
“I’m okay with that, I have a wonderful sorcerer demon taking care of me~” You kissed his cheek and he smiled.
He kissed your forehead and got the water ready for you. You were too weak to clean yourself so Stephen, still in his demon form, helped you get clean. After that was done, his magic swirled around you and you were in your sweater and pajama pants. He scooped you up again, liking the feeling of cradling you. He laid you down on the bed, tucking you in and laying down next to you. His demon form was here to stay for a bit so he was glad you loved it. He laid on his side, facing you.
“Let me hold you...” You mumbled tiredly. He smirked and moved his head to rest on top of your breast, arms wrapped around you, and one of his wings covering your body to keep you warm. His tail wrapped around your left leg and pulled your leg around his waist. You hummed in content and kissed his head. “I love you, Stephen.”
“I love you too.” He sighed happily.
You fell asleep, embracing your beloved demon.
Dividers By: @animatedglittergraphics-n-more
Author’s Note: Mommy’s getting hot at the body shop~ Also practice hygiene after sex to avoid infections!
Tagging: @lady-harvey, @strangelockd, @remuslupinwifee, @arkytior-snowwraith1870, @cemak, @clea-strange-is-the-way, @addict-rat, @rosesilverangel, @thealleydog, @fizzybubbletea, @reinasams, @doctorstrangeaskblog, @icytrickster17, @plinkitee, @theanishimori, @mynamehasbeentakenbysomeperson, @strangeswife, @wolfie-west, @strangeprincex, @tessieds, @moonfighter1985, @slenbee, @azu21
Please let me know if you weren’t tagged and want to be!
#strange supreme x reader#strange supreme#stephen strange x reader#stephen strange#doctor strange x reader#doctor strange
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can you write a dream blurb where he meets the reader at the park and the reader takes dream to sushi for lunch ?
Absolutely! I hope you like it! Its unedited though so if y'all see mistakes I'm sorry! 😂
You sat on the park bench, book in hand and eyes lazily rolling over the words, but in truth you hardly noticed them or even the book as your mind constructed the beautiful landscape those paragraphs described and built the people the story surrounded. You'd always had an active imagination, something you took great pride in and something that led you to this exact moment.
You'd met the stranger in your dreams. He never really spoke at first, more looking around and observing everything before vanishing. It was weird but not completely out of the ordinary so you just adapted to seeing him. When he finally introduced himself as Morpheus, Dream of the Endless and king of dreams everything changed. He'd shown you The Dreaming, introduced you to Lucienne and Merv and Matthew and he'd spent every night at your side, listening to your wild antics and even reading your favorite books just to speak to you about them.
A part of you was still slightly hesitant, thinking that perhaps it was all in your head. It was something you brought up often until last night. The memory made a chill of anticipation rush up your spine.
"This can't be real."
Morpheus sighed from across the library table. "It is."
You narrowed your eyes. "Seriously, though, I clearly have constructed this advanced fantasy."
"You'd give yourself such credit?" He teased, not looking up from his book. "That's quite confident of you."
With a scoff you tossed the closest pencil at him. "Ass. You're the one always telling me I have a brilliant imagination."
"You do, just not as brilliant as my own."
"Now who's confident?" You mocked.
His book settled loudly against the table as he looked up at you with a sigh. "How shall I prove to you this is all real, once and for all?"
"Come with me to lunch." You suggested. "In the real world, while I'm awake."
Morpheus regarded you with cautious eyes of starlight. "This will end your incessant dismissal?"
"Absolutely."
"Very well then. I shall meet you in the park closest to your home."
And here you were. Waiting. For fifteen minutes now. The book had been a good idea to keep the ever present thoughts of I told you so and you look like an absolute fool under control. It had not, however, been a good idea when it came to noticing the lithe figure clad in black approaching you. If you'd been paying more attention you would have had time to work out exactly what you were going to say before he stood directly in front of you.
"Hello, little dreamer," the sudden deep timber of his voice started your eyes directly up to his. He was here… and you were wide awake.
For a minute all you could do was stare, book open and eyes wide, but one you'd snapped out of your haze you pinched your arm, just to be safe. "Holy shit."
He tilted his head a bit. "Are you quite finished with that?"
"Yeah," you said, standing and awkwardly holding your hand out to him. "Hi."
Morpheus almost laughed at the far too formal gesture, but still took your hand and pressed a soft kiss to your knuckles. "Hello."
"Wow," you whispered blushing. "You're real."
"As I've been trying to inform you for months now." He replied smugly. "I believe I agreed to accompany you to lunch."
"Right!" You gestured to the street behind you. "It's this way. You like sushi right? God, I didn't even think to ask what you'd prefer, sorry!"
He shook his head, offering you his arm and walking beside you. "I do not eat often. But, I'm willing to try whatever you've chosen."
"You're not allergic to fish right?" You asked, still nervous.
"Relax, little dreamer," the richness of his voice felt so much more… Well… More here.
You'd picked your favorite sushi place, a small storefront owned by a sweet Asian family. They made the best food, the food you always sought out when looking for a quiet moment of warm and comfort. To you it was a beautiful place to go and eat and read if the mood struck, but now with the king of dreams on your arm it felt smaller. God you hoped he wasn't offended by such simplicity.
Morpheus was oblivious to your internal dilemma, instead finding every tiny trinket and wall hanging fascinating. He was relieved that you'd chosen a small, intimate location where the two of you could enjoy each other's company similarly to how you did in his realm. He sat across the table from you and let you order whatever you wanted. Watching you twiddle your fingers in front of you and speak to those around with such familiarity made him feel at ease.
"So," you started. "I guess I owe you an apology."
"Hardly," he insisted. "Your confusion was understandable. I should have come to you here long ago to dissuade your doubt's."
"True, but still, I'm sorry."
"I accept your apology."
With the formalities done the tension seemed to lift and you two were immediately back to speaking like you normally did. He asked you about the book you were reading and truly listened as you gushed about it. Unbeknownst to you this was one of his favorite things, listening to your passionate speeches.
When the food arrived he watched you eat a few times before trying anything. You watched him closely, helping him with the chopsticks and keeping him from the wasabi, though you'd been extremely tempted to test the limits of the immortal being with a little trial by fire. Morpheus made no clear indication on whether he enjoyed it or not, no faces or noises, but he continued to eat and would later insist that he did in fact like it. But, for now it was just nice to sit with him and know for a certainty he was real.
#dream of the endless#the sandman series#dream of the endless x reader#sandman morpheus#sandman netflix#the sandman fanfic#dream the endless#morpheus imagine#dream of the endless imagine#the sandman x you
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More horse!!!! This time probably my fav reformed villain Sunset! Been trying to get myself to design her armor for a while and i think i like what i ended up with. First pic is just what she looks like baseline, the second with the sparcer armor is what she would have looked like if she hadn’t escaped to the mirror. The last is what she currently looks like in the ‘present’ of my headcanon.
Details under the cut!
Sunset Shimmer in this HC is Sunbursts younger sister by a few years, and knew Starlight Glimmer a little through her brother. After Sunburst left to study abroad, Sunset became standoffish as a young child and would often try to start fights. It wasnt much later that she encountered a powerful unicorn noble visiting from manehattan, and being a little shit, she started negging him and trying to ruin his visit to the (at least to him) unimportant town. Seeing an opportunity to make an example, the noble challenged her to a magic duel, with the Sun as witness, envoking a traditional unicorn duel. As noone attempted to stop this, being powerful as he was, Sunset accepted.
The duel started with him simply posturing, taunting her with small spells and minor telekinesis. As she got angrier, he simply retaliated by knocking her back down, thinking she would soon get to embarrassed and surrender. Sunset persisted, however, and after she managed to cut one of his legs with her horn, drawing first blood, he used his magic to throw her back, and began summoning lightning around his horn, planning to kill her quickly and make an example.
Sunset looked up from the ground to see him lowering his horn, crackling magic setting her fur on end. He set off the spell and in a split second of panic Sunset threw her head back, casting a momentary shield and deflecting the worst of the lightning. In anger the noble reared back to cast another spell, and with adrenaline now coursing through her Sunset pushed herself forward, lunging and with only thoughts of winning on her mind, a poweful solar flare of magic, like a spear of flames, rushed with her and caught him in the center of his chest. He fell dead, and Sunset stood the victor, with an image of the Sun shining on her flank.
Only a few minutes of stunned silence from the town later, Celestia descended to the scene having heard the call for the Suns witness, and saw the young Sunset standing alone over a burnt body. First She felt shock, then understanding, and then hope, as She was looking at the first wielder of solar magic since the last of Her champions was killed with Luna's betrayal.
With this hope, Celestia took the young foal to Canterlot to study the arts of combat and ancient solar magic, and to train her to become the next Champion in time for Nightmare Moons return.
However, Celestia was careless, believing in her hope that Sunset would understand the importance of what she learned and mistook the foals eagerness for admiration and loyalty. It wasn't long after that Sunset started sneaking into the corners of the library, hungry for knowlegde and unsatisfied with Celestias slow and cautious teaching. She soon found a way into the forbidden wings, opening old scrolls depicting celestial armies and ancient battles, sketches of the heart of the badlands and lost castles, and accounts of the Sun Champions, asmall group of powerful Equestians that followed only the word of the Sun Sister. Sent out to bring Her Light into the far reaches of the world in gleaming golden armor with Her magic branded and weaved into their beings. Sunset believed the records to mean that she would be bound to Celestias will entirely, only recognized as Her servant and without free will.
It was also this time in the forbidden section that Sunsets presence attracted a demon, who took the opportunity of the feelings of betrayal and anger to feed them, whispering to Sunset about a mirror with incredible power hidden in the palace.
Blah Blah Blah beginning of EQG Sunset confronted Celestia, got pissed, ran through the portal and went to highschool.
After Twilights ascension Sunset made it back to Equestria and stole the Crown, with the vague plan (supplied by the demon) being to use it's magic to transform the school into powerful beings, and using the mirror as a way to ambush and infultrate the palace from the inside, the goal being to take the throne from Celestia and have the elements ascend her. It obviously failed, with the elements following Twilights will, turning the magic on Sunset and purging the demon. Sitting alone in the crater of the aftermath, alone in her thoughts for the first time in years and looking up at the princess standing victorious above her, she realized that she had fallen to the cruelty that almost killed her as a child. Horrified at this understanding, she surrendered, accepting the execution she knew would be waiting for her in Equestria.
Twilight, however, saw the horror and regret in Sunsets face, and believed she deserved a second chance. So Twilight pardonned her crimes, and let her stay in the world of humans as a form of parole with the only caviat that should the princess need a warrior, Sunset would be bound to her and not Celestia.
It would take a few years for Twilight to call on Sunsets help, with war fast approaching after Celestias fading. Twilight only calls on her for short amounts of time, prefering for her to stay with her friends in the human world. When she IS called to fight however, she's put directly in charge of a small squadron to take on magical threats wherever need be, and even sometimes is tasked with training frontline unicorn soldiers on combatitive magic. She becomes well known as a powerful and respected Archmage and is often called the Champion of Dusk, and despite that fame having previosly been her dream, she now prefers the quieter life with her friends on the other side.
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Blorbo ask game!
Tagged by: @parma-formenorion and @melpomaenofimladris
What is your blorbo's...
1. Favourite season?
Firith.
2. Favourite food?
Apple pie.
3. Favourite plant or herb?
Dandelions.
4. Favourite person/being?
Probably Glorfindel, in the same way that something that's been your favourite for a long time will always be your fave no matter how many shint new toys you get distracted by, but also he loves all his children so much as well, and if asked, he would say he could never choose between all of them.
5. Favourite place?
In the arms of those he loves, or by the hearth on a cold winter night, with a blanket and a warm drink, surrounded by his family.
6. Favourite animal?
His specific favourite is probably Asfaloth. As he doesn't have his own, he does frequently assist Glorfindel with his care. He is grateful to Asfaloth for bringing Glorfindel home.
In terms of which type of animal, I'm not certain he has a favourite. He likes to feed wildlife around the cottage, but doesn't keep any pets for himself.
7. Favourite drink?
He enjoys a good cold tea with lemon.
8. Favourite hobby/activity?
He certainly finds his way to the library very often and enjoys reading and writing in equal parts, as well as he enjoys improving on or learning new skills in general. That said, I don't think he has a single favourite hobby, more so that he seeks -- in any activity -- a sense of peace or joy or fulfillment.
9. Do they like to read? If so, favourite genre?
He reads all the time. Most would believe his favourite genre to be history, as he is so knowledgeable about the subject, but most also fail to realize that this is mostly because he was present for a lot of major events and the first-hand experience makes it easy to remember.
Instead he prefers texts on language as he's always found them to be a fascinating look at different people and cultures, as well as being educational in nature.
However, those who really know him know that he prefers poetry above all, as he enjoys the fullness of emotions that only poetry brings him. He's especially fond of romantic poetry, and poems about longing in general, as even after the return of his other half, he longs for him constantly -- for his presence, his laugh, the feeling of his arms around him...
10. Do they like to dance?
He likes to dance, but not in public. He especially likes to dance under starlight or in front of the hearth with his lover.
11. What is their favourite room in the house?
Definitely the living room. He enjoys the warmth it brings, and the way people naturally gravitate towards each other while sitting in front of a fire.
12. Favourite place to travel to?
Although mostly travelled-out after all the wandering of his youth, Erestor enjoys visiting Lothlórien from time to time, and sometimes insists on accompanying Elrond and Celebrían's children himself as a poorly veiled excuse to revisit Galadriel and Celeborn.
13. Who is their best friend?
I don't know that I've ever considered Erestor having a best friend, rather he has family and he has acquaintances. The closest person to him would be Glorfindel, though prior to his return that might have been Galadriel or Elrond.
14. Favourite bioregion?
He's very comfortable in Rivendell, but sometimes he misses Gondolin and its snowy winters and temperate summers. He does know he's not a fan of the warmer weather in Gondor, nor the humidity of Lindon in general.
15. Choose one for them: wine, beer, cider, hard liquor, or none.
None, thank you.
Tagging: @endimion-issyl, @glorfindel-of-imladris, @goldenglorfindel, @masteroftheseas, @l33tsaber, @weaverofdoom, @lordofthegoldenflower, @mikhailvalhidris, @bydoommastered
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IOU | OP81
pairing: ghostface!oscar x ghostface!reader
summary: reader & oscar are best friends but reader would love to get a shot with ghostface. what they don’t know is that their chances are closer than they think…
warnings: [DARK THEMES USED & SMUT] slightly descriptive murder, mention of stalking stalking, mention of blood, breath play, public sex, oral sex (m receiving), dry humping, dom!oscar, sub!reader, degradation, hair pulling (if you squint??), face fucking, deep throating
a/n: once again, dark themes used! please read the warnings above!!! i answered a asked on my main here and decided to make a oneshot of it (yes i quote J's ask cause it was too good). tbh didn't even plan for a plot but here we are! I know my answer and this are vastly different...i don't wanna talk about it. also ghostface!oscar series belongs to @piastrification so homie this one is for YOU!! Also happy belated Valentines day omg. Hope you enjoy 🫶🏽
word count: 4.5K
This week has started out to be one of the worst weeks you’ve had in a very long time. Monday started off with your car breaking down on the way to campus and you completely missed your first class. When you got to campus an irritated Oscar was waiting asking why the hell you didn’t call him. “Even though I was in class, I would’ve left and gotten you,” he told you. You weren’t in the mood to argue so you just apologized and told him you’d call him next time which seemed to ease his irritation slightly. Seemed he also had a pretty shitty Monday.
Tuesday brought your shitty manager everyone hates at your job to end a relatively quiet day. It was the typical bullshit but still didn’t mean you had to enjoy it. You spent the whole drive home on the phone with Oscar screaming your head off about all the things your manager had done. The micro-managing of your work, the snarky remarks, the extra work so he can just fuck off in the back, god you could not stand this manager at all. Oscar listened like he always did. “You don’t deserve that,” you could hear the frown in his voice, “honestly he shouldn’t even be a manager. I could take care of him for you.” You laughed. You thanked Oscar for the offer but you had already decided that your manager would be your next victim. It would be tricky considering everyone in the store knew how much you two despised each other but it would get done.
You ended up with a stomach bug on Wednesday. You woke up around four in the morning with a jump and just made it to the bathroom before you got sick. You stayed in there for a good hour before there was nothing left in your system and you dragged yourself back to bed. You somehow coherently managed to message your professors you’d be missing class due to illness and texted Oscar that you’d be out sick today before promptly falling asleep. You woke to a knock on your front door and dragged yourself out of bed. You made a face seeing Oscar standing outside with a bag. “What are you doing?” You ask.
“Taking care of you. Can I come in?”
“What if you catch it? What about classes?”
You watch Oscar simply pull a KN95 mask out of his pocket. You narrowed your eyes as he slipped it on. You didn’t need to see his face to see the cheeky smile he was giving. His eyes twinkled slightly with humor as he gently turned you around and guided you back inside your place as he listed the things he brought over and how he can afford missing one day to make sure you eat and rest, a habit you tend to struggle with. He really was a good best friend.
Thursday is really when you hit your limit. Arriving on campus you and Oscar head to class though neither of you really paid attention. You two spent most of the time texting each other even though you guys were sitting right next to each other. When class ended the two of you headed to the closest campus cafeteria before parting ways. You got on the line to grab the food while Oscar secured you two seats since it was roughly lunch time and everyone would be out and about.
Carrying the two to-go containers after paying you make your way to the back left corner. It’s usually where you and Oscar sat and enjoyed just people watching and gossiping about other students but you slowed your walking. Oscar was looking up at someone. Fucking Brittany. One of the sororities girls. Sorority president actually. Brittany was in a nice blouse, a skirt, some fucking heeled boots. Her blonde hair was thrown up into a messy bun and she was leaning forward slightly while smiling wide at Oscar.
Jealousy hit you like a truck. You grip the to-go containers tighter while standing frozen in your spot watching them. You wanted to march over and tell her to fuck off. Grab your stupid bun and slam her head into the table until she’s bleeding out. Or maybe take the plastic forks that rested on top of the to-go containers and gauge her eyes out for having the audacity to even look at Oscar. Alas, you refrained from it all. Instead you just tilted your chin up and made your way over with a tight smile. “I’m back!” You announce to Oscar. The both turn to face you and Oscar visibly relaxes slightly but Brittany is giving you a once over clearly unimpressed. You turn and blink, feigning surprise. “Oh! Brittany. Hi,” you keep your tone light and friendly, “what brings you here?”
“Oh, I was just talking to Oscar,” Brittany smiles, “we’re partners for our history project.” You could give two shits less what it was as you spy Brittany’s hand moving to Oscar’s upper arm and resting there with ease. Something so subtle but could come off as flirty and you wanted to cut her hand off. How dare she think she can touch Oscar like that? “…and wanted to see if he wanted to come to the frat party Saturday night,” she concludes.
“Oh, isn’t that sweet of you. Can he bring a plus one?” You ask putting the containers down, sliding one over to Oscar.
“If he wants…” Brittany glances at Oscar with a smile then back at you, “but we need to know to make sure they’re on the list. Even then…it depends on the mood if everyone gets in.”
“Then it seems kinda stupid for a list, don’t you think so?” Oscar asks finally. Brittany laughs. It wasn’t even that funny. You realize now that she’s flirting with Oscar. Well. This just won’t do. Not like you care anyway. Oscar is your best friend. Sure you love him but it’s platonic -or so you tell yourself- so it shouldn’t bother you but it does. It does bother you because Brittany was the queen heartbreaker. She used guys until she got bored. Until they got attached and couldn’t offer anything else after giving her everything. You were not about to have Oscar be a pawn in her fucking game. You had missed the remark Brittany gave as you sat down, your heart pounding in your ears.
“…let me know!” Brittany calls out as she’s already walking away.
“Ugh. As if,” Oscar murmurs and turns his attention to you. “Hey,” he starts softly. Bring your gaze to him and you blink, “you okay?”
“Yeah,” you manage a smile, “I’m fine. Did you see the shoes she was wearing?” You ask to divert the subject as now you might have something fun to do this weekend.
* * *
Personally, you never understood the hype of sororities and managed to curb every single one who tried to recruit you. It was just a bunch of girls with money and tried to make it sound like it wasn’t a cult but it most certainly was if you got in. Moving into the house, what they expected you to wear, how to act in public, who can and cannot date, for fuck sakes they monitored your social media post and if they didn’t approve of something you posted they would either make you take it down or probably kick you out. You much preferred your freedom over dealing with that bullshit.
Luck had shined down on you when you heard some of the girls mention Brittany couldn’t go to the bar tonight because she was under the weather and just ‘had to get better for tomorrow in case her special guest came’. It was a miracle that you didn’t march over here and slaughter Brittany right then and there but you bide your time. You had to be careful.
Now, slipping the mask on, you give it a five minutes after everyone else leaves before slipping through the back door. Standing quietly, you listen to the water running and slowly making your way through the house. Climbing the stairs you follow the noise until you’re outside the bathroom. You hear Brittany singing and you silently open the door. Steam hits your face and it takes everything not to cough from the sudden heat. Stepping in you watch Brittany’s silhouette run her fingers through her hair. Gripping the hilt of your knife, you inch forward. When Brittany turns you stab the knife through the shower curtain and straight in her heart. Twisting, you step forward until Brittany is pinned against the wall as she weakly has a hold of your wrist trying to pull the knife out her screams being drowned out by the shower and her choking on her own blood. You pull out before stabbing again to ensure that there was no chance she would be able to survive. When her attempts falter, you pull the knife out. Cleaning the knife off, you slip out of the house the way you came smirking knowing the rest of them wouldn’t have hot water for a long time.
Carefully you pack everything into your backpack you left in the woods by the house before securely zipping it. Slinging a strap over your shoulder, you start to head back to your apartment. You emerge from the treeline right into an alleyway and into town which is bustling with college kids. Perks of living in a college town. You just turn left and make your way back to your apartment which is a bit further uptown and you notice as the people start to thin out.
You feel eyes burning into the back of your skull. Turning your head over your shoulder, you stop. At the end of the block you see a figure in all black and an identical mask standing there. Normal people would do anything but stare. Call out to the figure, turn away and walk, call the police, something except just stand there silently and face off with this killer. Copycat killer that is. You suppose you’d have fans, sick and twisted probably, but you didn’t expect you’d end up creating a copycat killer. Not that you minded, actually the gesture touched you actually. People had been too stupid to realize it was a copycat but not you.
After all, their first kill happened to be one of your best friends you recently dropped.
You can’t even remember why but you arrived to apologize and found her body on the floor, throat cut. It was a bit messy. The cut wasn’t as clean as you would’ve expected and there was blood everywhere. Even on the poor bitch’s hands. Then you realize that there’s a few stab wounds. Seemed she put up a fight before whoever did it got the kill. Then someone clears their throat and you raise your gaze.
There you saw him.
An identical ghostface mask, black long sleeve shirt, jeans, and sneakers. Personally you preferred boots but to each their own. As much as some little sane part in your head told you to stop judging this person’s choice in shoes and run, you stood there staring because god he was so *distracting*. Honestly, the tight fit long sleeve should be illegal for killers to wear. It clung to him defining each curve of his muscle and you couldn’t help but get turned on because well–they’re a well fit masked killer.
“Did you do this?”
The killer nodded. Silence fell upon the two of you before you finally asked, “why?”
“...Why?” The voice asked. A shiver ran down your spine hearing the low murmur. A voice modulator just like you. Smart and well fit? Shit, “that’s all you can ask? Why? Aren’t you supposed to be running and screaming?”
“Well I find that a bit stupid,” you retort, “you’re right here. Masked or not, you're taller. You have length compared to my short legs. I might have you in agility and you’re a bit messy with your killing. Shaky in the hands.” You tilt your head to the masked figure with a small smirk. You watch the figure tighten his grip on the hilt of the knife before he’s in front of you in about four steps. You gasp as your head is yanked back by your hair, knife against your throat.
“Are you asking to be killed right now?”
“I mean you gonna fuck me before you kill me?”
Ghostface reels their head back slightly. Stupidly, they loosen their grip from the shock. Taking your chance, you grab the first with the knife and twist it away from you. They shout out in pain as you get your hair free and release their wrist before kicking the figure harshly in the stomach. You step on the figure’s chest a bit harshly. Smirking down at him, “expect the unexpected sweetheart. But you never answered me. Why?”
You can hear something faintly. You cannot believe this guy is mumbling. Leaning down slightly, you turn your ear, “I can’t hear you,” you tease.
“I did it for you.”
Now you’re stunned. You lean back slightly, hand over your heart. You don’t dare move though. You expect it to be some sick joke but the laughter never came. You bite your bottom lip having half the mind to suck him off right then and there. You stay strong though. Instead, you move to stand over the figure and bend down and hook a finger under his mask. His hand flies to your wrist and you laugh.
“I’m not gonna take your mask off,” you explain, “Trust me. Right now I am getting extremely horny and I don’t think I can handle you being ugly under the mask. Would just completely kill the mood.” You laugh hearing the figure let out an offended noise, “but aren’t you sweet,” you tilt your finger up and the figure follows, lifting his chin, “don’t be a stranger, yeah? Now, you should get off so I can feign the heartbroken emotional ex- best friend.”
Ghostface is in front of you now. He’s got your chin between his thumb and finger staring down at you and you blink as you come out of your memory. He’s close and you can hear his soft breathing which forces your own breath to hitch. You curl and uncurl your fingers and you hear a small huff behind the mask accompanied by a smirk you assume. “My,” he murmurs softly, “what do we have here. You shouldn’t be walking alone at night like this little one. You never know what lurks in the dark.”
You take a deep breath to keep your voice even. Pressing your thighs together you try so hard to stop the heat that’s starting to spread through your body. You should not be getting this turned on but how could you not? You had a copycat killer who kept killing people that you had issues with somehow and someway. “I–” You start, biting your bottom lip trying to find the words but you’re cut off with a chuckle.
“You’re so worked up for me. I can see it in the clench of your legs, the flush on your cheeks, the way your pupils dilate and the way you bite your lip for me. You don’t even know who I am. I could be a total stranger, who followed you home one night and just never stopped, but I could also be your best friend, that you’ve known for years, who you think you know like the back of your hand. You don’t even know. But I know one thing for certain though- I’m sure your panties, if you’re even fucking wearing any, are already soaked.”
You hate the fact he’s right. Your breathing slightly heavy as your eyes widen as you listen. Shifting, you clench your thighs even tighter as one of your hands slips between your thighs slightly. You can’t see his eyes but you can feel his stare bruning into yours and you actually look away. This hasn’t happened before.
“Look. At. Me.”
Your eyes snap back and your mouth hangs open slightly. You can feel how wet you are every time you shift and by god do you need something here. “What do you want, love?”
“I would very much like to take you up on that offer and suck you off,” you nod your head in the direction of the alleyway.
“Excited, aren’t we?”
“We’ve been at this for months of fucking course I’m excited.”
He grips your jaw tightly, “I’d watch that tone if I were you. I can happily just walk away and leave you here alone.” Your eyes travel downwards and spy his half hard bulge against his jeans and then back up, “I can handle myself and sleep much more satisfied than you probably would with your fingers,” leaning close to your ear, “but I’d be a fool to leave you so desperate without giving you a taste.” Your eyes nearly roll into the back of your head but he lets go of your jaw and spins you around, smacking your ass. You startled with a yelp before quickly scurrying to the alleyway.
Any sane person, seeing the alleyway lead to the woods, probably would have taken the chance to run but not you. You were so desperate to finally fuck this copy cat that you spun around as he rounded the corner. You gasped as your back slams against the brick wall feeling pain through your shoulder for only a brief moment as your hands fly to Ghostface’s wrist as he holds you there by your throat. Oddly enough your calm even though he could easily choke you as your breathing becomes a bit more jaded. Lifting his mask slightly you stare at the slightly chapped but pink lips as you drop your bag. They look so familiar, why?
You can’t really think longer on it as he moves his hand up to your jaw tightly and his lips are on your neck as you gasp for air. He wedges his knee between your legs and immediately you roll your hips whining loudly. You let your eyes drift close as the figure litters your neck in kisses along with marks. You let the figure tilt your head so he can litter the otherside in matching marks. Your nails dig into his wrist earning a hiss against your neck. When he pulls back your eyes stare at his lips and you’re so tempted for a taste. You find yourself starting to lean in before he’s pushing you onto your knees. Blinking, you're now eye level with his obvious bulge and glance up at him fixing his mask.
Dropping your gaze, your hands get straight to work. Undoing his jeans you pull the zipper down before pulling his pants down just enough. You hold your breath seeing the outline of his cock because oh it looks so much bigger than you’ve had which…was very few. There was only one way to really find the truth. You let your fingers dance across the waistband of his boxers before you tug, cock basically popping free. You lean back with wide eyes because it is bigger than you’ve had. It’s actually the biggest you’ve ever had. The length was maybe just an inch or two over average which was impressive enough but it was the girth that really made your mouth water and the precum leaking out just makes you drool.
Gently wrapping a hand around his cock, the figure’s breath hitches as he bucks his hip. You give a few experimental tugs not really for a reaction but more so to get a feel of him in your hand. Big. Girthy. Heavy. God, how pent up was he? You feel fingers through your head as you continue to cautiously jerk him off before licking the tip. The reaction pulled out of the figure was a low satisfied groan and it encourages you to take the tip of his cock into your mouth. You swirl your tongue around the tip before sucking, alternating between the two before you finally you’re ready.
If you had known how big he was you would’ve been a bit more…prepared. You weren’t naive enough to think you could take all of him down your throat. God no. Maybe with some training and patience later if the figure would let you but you didn’t have either of those things or really time on your side. Still, you had to make sure to keep the figures interested in you- even if he’s killed for you already. Better safe than sorry, right?
Hollowing your cheeks out and flattening your tongue on the underside of his cock, you start to suck him off. Bobbing your head you can’t help but feel a bit of a rush go to your head as the figure above lets out another loud ground. You glance up to see the figure’s neck as his head is tilted back. You're absolutely drenched watching him and find yourself slipping a hand into your own pants and moan around him as you rub your clit. That catches his attention as his head snaps down to look at you.
“Naughty girl. You’re so turned on from sucking me off that you have to touch yourself?” It earns a strangled whine, “such a pathetic slut.”
You can’t help but moan at that. “Wow. You are so fucking pathetic it’s adorable.” The figure coos and grips your hair to stop you. Shifting, he puts one foot in front of you and smirks, “here why don’t you just hump my leg while you’re at it.” He taunts.
Funny enough you’ll take him up on that. The moment he frees your head you go back to bobbing your head on his cock humming in delight as you hug his leg, settling on his foot and grind your hips down. If your lips weren’t so occupied at the moment you would smirk at the shocked reaction you pull from the figure but you’re lost in your own world. The stretch of your jaw combined with the already dull ache lulls you into a peaceful trance. You completely ignore the spit that’s starting to wet your chin.
You feel the figure’s other hand gently grab your jaw trapping you in place suddenly. You stared up with doe eyes as the figure fucked your face before you felt him hit the back of your throat. You gagged and your hands flew to his thighs for some stability as he repeated the action. “So fucking good. Taking my cock,” the figure grunts out and tears prick your eyes when he stops moving and you gag because he’s so far down your throat. He pulls off just enough for you to gasp and get some air before he’s back in your mouth and fucking your face again. You’re prepared for it this time as you relax your throat and gag less.
Having lulled yourself into such a peaceful you nearly let your eyes slip close. Sliding your hands down, you wrap your arms around Ghostface’s leg as you continue to fuck yourself against his foot while he fucked your mouth. You ended up tuning everything else out except him and listening to him ramble was going to get you off alone. ‘Such a gorgeous cock drunk whore’, ‘you look so pathetic humping my leg while you let me fuck your mouth it should be illegal’, and ‘you’d look so beautiful being my personal cock drunk slut’. It’s the one you made out between all the groans and moans and curses. You felt his tug at your hair as a warning and you finally opened your eyes.
“Fuck–shit–I’m gonna–” He groaned but doesn’t stop his thrusting. He does the opposite as he picks the pace up. That’s all the encouragement you needed. You find your hips onto his foot even harder and faster as you. You feel the familiar coil in your abdomen and you’re trying so hard to reach it. He snaps his hips forward and forces himself down your throat. Your eyes go wide and you gag, choking on his cock as he spills into your throat. You hit his thighs and try to focus on breathing through your nose but even still the rough face fucking before forced deep throating was enough to send you over the edge. You groan and whine as you continue to hump his foot before he pulls you off his cock and slips his foot out from under you.
Sitting there, you gasp for air as your chest heaves. You look up at Ghostface and lick your lips slowly as you debate if you wanna turn over and let him fuck you right now. He would. For sure…probably and he taste good to. But that would be giving too much. You were the original after all. Finding your footing, you stand up and slide your pants down. There’s a choked sound from Ghostface and you glance over at the figure looking away.
“Seriously?” You raise a brow and giggle, “you just fucked my face but you get all bashful about seeing me in my panties.”
“I–well. I mean. No–” This one sucked at lying. Rolling your eyes, you look away as you take your pants off before sliding your panties off. “What are…” Ghostface’s voice trails off as you stuff your soiled panties into his front jeans pocket. “Consider it an IOU,” you say as you hurriedly put your pants back on. You’re grabbing your bag before the figure gets a chance, “this was fun but I have to run. My friend is coming over for a movie night and he’ll be pissed if I’m not there,” you sigh dreamily at the end of the alleyway, “he’s so caring like that. Anyway, bye!” You say before you’re slinging your back over as you take off. You get home and quickly change into some pajama panties (with new panties) and a sweatshirt before finding yourself settled on the couch while flipping through for a movie.
Hearing keys jingle you look up, you smile at your best friend walking in. You two are so close that he has his own copy. Oscar’s in a baggy grey hoodie with some black jeans on as he takes his shoes off before making his way to the back of the couch. He smiles slightly at you and offers dinner but you decline. As he turns for the kitchen, you spy something hanging out of Oscar’s pocket. It looks like a fabric of some sorts. Watching him in the kitchen, you decide to get some water. Quietly getting off the couch you stand in the doorway. Oscar continues to cook himself dinner and you wait until he’s focused on whatever is in the pan to strike. Passing behind him, your eyes drop down and your breathing stops. Black lacy panties with red roses on them. You look up at Oscar who’s glancing at you over his shoulder. His gaze follows yours and he smirks.
“Can I cash that IOU now, darling?”
#starlight library presents;#oscar piastri imagine#oscar piastri smut#op81 x reader#op81 smut#op81 imagine#oscar piastri x reader smut#f1 reader#f1 smut#f1 imagine#ghostface!oscar#ghostface!oscar smut#starlight library fiction#contains dark themes#mentions of murder#mentions of blood#smutty#bit toxic??#for the love of god read the warning
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Better Man
Set after acowar but ignores acofas.
It feels so foreign for her to be back here in the ornate library she had sought refuge in years ago, back staring into Night through the high arched windows. She regrets her choice to pay a visit during Solstice. Nesta would have much preferred a quiet evening by herself, but she wanted to push herself by celebrating this new holiday with… everyone. The heat from her palm warms against the glass, but she feels just as chilled in her brother-in-law’s home as she felt out amongst the flutters of snow. The tightness in her chest constricts her breath as she stands looking beyond the dim room, still as death amongst the tomes. Nesta escaped from the pressures of society almost immediately after the war against Hybern, preferring the solitude and isolation of her high-rise apartment located far from the heart of Velaris. Feyre’s City of Starlight had long become a City of Lost Time for Nesta. For all their smiles and laughter juxtaposed by her somber silence, Nesta swears the Inner Circle is just as fractured now as they were on the battlefield. She’s spent hours broken and bent at the knees of her therapist across the city, while her sister and her family have been here forcing laughter and pretending that nothing had happened at all. Nesta had felt unwanted from the moment she arrived at her sister’s door, even though the invitation she was sent rustled in her pocket when she removed her gloves. Nesta sat at the corner of their festivities for hours while Cassian cooed over Mor in front of her as if the dying promise he made to her was a regretful mistake. Nesta sat alone and stared quietly at a portrait of their father that was placed amongst those Feyre made for the rest of her family. There was no portrait drawn in Nesta’s likeness. For Feyre, their father’s sins had been absolved in death, while it seemed Nesta’s failings as a child were to live on forevermore. Nesta quietly slipped past the group to head for the loneliness of the library when they were all too drunk to chastise her for it. Her sister’s birthday party weighs on her like a visit to the past, with memories of her past life and love, memories of the Cauldron and war, beating her into suffocation. It was all too much—too soon. As the pressure builds, Nesta can’t be sure whether her vision had blinked out or her eyes had slammed shut before she instinctively begins the breathing exercises she now knows by heart. Keeping her hand firmly on the cool glass to steady her, Nesta inhales: 1, 2, 3, 4, and exhales: 1, 2, 3, 4. Over and over, she just breathes. And breathes. And breathes.
She spends several moments after her heart had steadied focusing on the crisp feeling of ice against her forehead, which had long since rested against the glass of the window. Eventually, her slippered feet whisper against the carpet as Nesta glides to the chaise a few feet away. The heat from her forehead in addition to her warm breath had formed a head-shaped clarity on the glass. The imprint of her hands, too, stand at a stark contrast against the cloudy crystallization of the wintered windowpane. Nesta sits there, wondering at how trapped an image it presents. Her missing portrait finally found. Choosing not to dwell too heavily on what that image invokes within her, Nesta turns her face to the mahogany doors at the front of the room instead and leans against the chair’s plush velvet backing. The blue satin of her gown crinkles around her knees as she curls them slightly toward her upper body. She falls asleep with the glow of the dawn and in the comfort of her own arms clasped around her.
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🌳📕📚🎆🌟
woohoo, thank you, Anon! <333333
🌳 fangorn forest: Which of Tolkien's creechurs is your favourite? Hmmmmm. I think it might have to be the Ents. I love how they exist on such a completely different timescale that the world has forgotten about them and they've completely overlooked everything going on around them - but when they're shown what's happening, they join in the fight.
📕 the red book of westmarch : what is your favourite quote(s)? oh god, too many to choose! But that one of Gandalf's about choosing what we do with the time that is given us is definitely one of them.
📚 boxset: how were you first introduced to Middle Earth? I think I read The Hobbit when I was about 12; my dad was at university in the late 60s and like absolutely everyone else got into Tolkien then, so he had the books on the shelf. I must have enjoyed it, though I remember nothing about it, because I went on to Lord of the Rings but, I am sorry to say, I was utterly defeated by the first chapter, put it down and didn't pick it up again. Fifteen-odd years later the films came out, and that was my proper introduction, and is still my fandom home.
🎆 fireworks: you're invited to Bilbo's 111th, what present do you think you'd receive? Oh gosh, I don't know. I am nowhere near clever enough or self-aware enough for this question. XDDDD
🌟starlight: you're allowed to live in one of the Elf Kingdoms of Middle Earth, which one are you picking? Rivendell. It's beautiful, secluded, has an excellent library, and most of my favourite characters are there. :D :D :D
Thank you for asking, Anon! Anyone else want to ask me some Middle-Earth themed questions? (I'm dying to answer pretty much all of them, so... XDDDD )
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As a young child, too young to really remember, Luna lost her parents in a terrible fire. She was put into foster care and eventually ended up in the care of an older couple who had been fostering kids all their lives. They had been ready to settle down to raise one last child on their own before they were too old to be able to keep up with small kids. Lucky for them, Luna was a perfect child.
Shy and quiet, she doesn't tend to speak out much unless spoken to or asked to share something. At least not until she gets really comfortable with a group. She has a small circle of friends she grew up with in school that she trusts absolutely with everything. She feels the most at home among them.
All through high school, Luna discovered a passion for reading and performing, but she never had the courage to try out for any sort of theater. She just decided to keep her little interest to herself, though she was never seen without a book or two. It wasn't until after graduation that she discovered L1M3 software, developed by Elijah King (@godccmplex ) as a perfect and seamless auto tune. Playing around with it, she found she could pursue her passion in a way that was entertaining as well as keeping her identity a secret.
At first, she would just record stories for herself. She kept them all on a hard drive along with the voice files she created using the L1M3 software. She managed to wrack up an extensive library of all her favorite short stories and poems, as well as a complete reading of her favorite book that she was very proud of. But, when the apartment she was living in was broken in to while she was out of town with friends, she lost her computer and her drive was damaged beyond repair. That was when she decided to start uploading them online so they wouldn't ever be lost again.
She built up a following quickly and a few years in she became one of the top story telling podcasts, even taking requests for short stories and creepy no sleeps submitted by her fans. Her identity was kept a secret with an altered voice that made her sound like a guy under the name Ares (a play off of her middle name being Aeris). Nobody knows who she really is and she prefers that way. Any interview she has ever done has been written and she doesn't do any sort of live stream. Luna believes the anonymity is what lead most to her success, but she knows she also has a talent to show the world.
In the present she works as a hostess at the Starlight Lounge, a job she's been doing for a few months to help pay for things. It helps with her confidence and getting herself out there more instead of always hiding away.
Name: Luna Aeris Thomas
Faceclaim: Halle Bailey
Age: 25
Gender: female
Sexuality: demi-romantic/ bisexual
Occupation: Podcast host / writer; Starlight Lounge hostess
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Secrets Don’t Make Friends- Elrond Peredhil x OC
Elrond Peredhil x Iris Cricket
Description: Elrond is being very secretive about why their unexpected guests were in Rivendell.
Word Count: 2k
It had seemed like a normal day that morning. Elrond and Iris woke up together as usual, had a cup of tea and ate breakfast in his office, then went their separate ways afterwards. Iris had been asked by Erestor to help him with the organization of the Last Homely House’s library, something that they do every hundred years or so to keep things fresh.
They were nearly a week in, and they were beginning to get to the heavy lifting. Since Iris didn’t have the Elvish strength that most occupants of Rivendell possessed, she sought out Elladan and Elrohir’s help with moving the few bookcases that Erestor needed in a different place. That didn’t stop her from continuing to offer her help, instructing the Elves where to put the shelves. It had been an all day ordeal, beginning from the moment all four of them arrived at the library and ending when the sun showed signs of setting.
When they finally went their separate ways Iris chose to clean up and change into more comfortable clothes for dinner. She put a simple braid into her hair as she made her way to the court space, where she was told that her husband was with some rather strange guests. She’d been confused by the Elf maid’s words, but thanked her anyway and continued on.
It wasn’t until she’d arrived at the court that she understood what the Elf was talking about. A large Company consisting of sixteen rather rowdy Dwarves, an Elf and a Fairy all sat at a small table on one side of the plinth, which sat in the middle of the court. There was another taller table just a few feet away from the plinth which sat Elrond and none other than Gandalf the Gray. Her eyebrows shot up at the sight before her, though she had no time to say anything before the Wizard noticed her.
“Ah, Lady Iris, there you are,” he greeted with a kind smile, standing up. Elrond followed his lead afterwards, offering his wife a fond grin. Iris quickly wiped the surprise off her face and replaced it with a smile to match Elrond’s as she made her way over to them.
“Mithrandir,” she greeted the Wizard. Her hands fell in his as he looked her over.
“As radiant as ever, My Lady,” he complimented, which made her laugh softly.
“If you keep that up you’ll spoil me,” she teased in return before pulling him into a quick hug. Once they pulled away they became aware that their guests had quieted down. Upon looking at them they realized that all eyes were now on them, specifically Iris, which took her back for a moment. Elrond was quicker in breaking the silence because he walked around his table and linked Iris’ arm in his.
“Ladies and gentlemen, I’d like to introduce you all to my wife, Iris. Ilma (Starlight), I present to you the Company of Thorin Oakenshield,” he introduced, causing the Witch’s eyebrows to shoot up.
“Oakenshield?” She repeated, surprised, before facing the Dwarf in question. “So the rumors are true then?” Thorin looked rather disgruntled by her question (though she didn’t know why).
“It is confidential,” was his only answer. The girl was only further surprised by his lack of manners, but one look at her husband told her that would be the best that she would get out of the Dwarf King. So, she faced Thorin once again with a kind smile.
“Very well, then. It is a pleasure to meet you, Your Majesty, and it is an honor to welcome you and your Company in our house,” she responded. Her sentiment got a miniscule smile out of him, and that was enough for her to take a seat when her husband pulled a chair out for her and be done with it.
She glanced at her husband with a questioning gaze once everyone was sitting again. All she was met with was a look from him that said that they’d talk later. Though she wasn’t exactly happy about it, she accepted it with the silent promise that he would keep his word later.
Later that evening, when the moon was high in the sky, she was on the search for her husband for the second time that day. Thorin’s Company were already in their rooms (likely asleep after a long journey) so they couldn’t offer her any aid, but she continued. After what felt like hours of searching she found him on a cliffside not far from the Last Homely House out of all places.
He wasn’t the only one there, however. Gandalf, Bilbo, Balin and Thorin were also in there, though it looked like whatever they were doing had wrapped up. The cliff was right beside one of the many waterfalls in the valley, so she couldn’t immediately hear what was being said, only the last bit.
“There are some who would not deem it wise,” Elrond said. There was a moment of silence as Thorin took some sort of map away from the Elf gruffly.
“What do you mean?” Gandalf asked.
“You are not the only guardian to stand watch over Middle Earth,” Elrond answered simply before beginning to walk away from the group. He paused momentarily upon seeing his wife, but he offered her a small smile as he reached her.
“I am sorry to keep you up, meleth nin (my love). I just had some business to take care of,” he said before linking their arms together once again and beginning to lead her back to their chambers.
“What was all that about?” She inquired curiously.
“Nothing important,” he answered with a shrug.
“I mean, it must be at least a little important for you to have to come to the cliffside with our guests in secret,” Iris pointed out as they approached their chamber door.
“Iris, please,” the Lord sighed. “Let’s not talk about it tonight. Saruman and Lady Galadriel will be here in the morning and-”
“Wait, why are they coming here?” The woman stepped in front of him then stopped, causing him to stop as well. “Elrond, what is going on?”
“I do not want to talk about it tonight,” Elrond said in a firmer tone than Iris had been expecting, which made her freeze. He seemed to realize that snapping at her hurt her feelings because his eyes softened, and he sighed.
“Iris-”
“Don’t,” she cut him off yet again, though this time she was upset. She turned and walked into their chambers and went straight to bed, not sparing another glance at her husband before she fell asleep. She was now even more confused, and the frustration about her being left in the dark didn’t help in the slightest. Something was obviously going on and Elrond wasn’t telling her what.
She was still irritated the next morning when she woke up so she chose to not have breakfast with her husband. Instead she chose to have it with the Company. They were much more happy this morning, having slept in comfortable beds with their bellies stuffed. That made for much better conversation. Though they still hadn’t told her about what their journey was for, they still told her about what they’d seen on the passage thus far. It was rather amusing, and Iris found herself enjoying their company.
Eventually, though, their time had to be cut short because she still needed to help Erestor in the library. So, she offered them her service should they request it, tell them that she would see them later, then left the court. It would only be an hour or so later that Lindir entered the library and informed her that the Company requested to see her. After excusing herself from the chief counselor she walked out to see Balin, Bofur, Pandora and Bilbo standing there with their bags packed and on their shoulders. The sight obviously surprised her, which in turn made the others laugh.
“Are you leaving already?” She asked.
“I’m afraid so, lassie,” Balin answered with an apologetic smile.
“We’re on a bit of a time crunch, you see,” Bofur added.
“We just thought it would be nice to say goodbye and thank you for all you and your husband have done for us,” the older Dwarf concluded.
“Oh, well I must say that I’m sad to see you all go so soon,” Iris said after finally gathering her thoughts. “But, I am glad that I got to meet all of you. I pray that your journey is as safe as it can be.”
“Thank you, Lady Iris,” Balin spoke. “Farewell, dear lady.” With that, the four of them bowed to her then began heading towards the front of the house. Iris and Lindir followed them, but stopped at the stop of the staircase to watch them be off. After watching them for a few minutes, Iris finally turned to the minstrel.
“You might want to inform my husband of the Dwarves’ departure,” she said softly. She watched as Lindir nodded then headed back inside. Once the door closed behind him, she turned to watch the Company leave. It was only when they were out of sight that she finally walked back inside.
Despite the fact that she hadn’t known them long, Iris still found herself slightly sad at their sudden departure. She’d grown comfortable around them during their very short visit and found their presence enjoyable. They were a funny bunch, especially that Bofur Dwarf, making her laugh every time he interacted with her. While her husband was being secretive, she found comfort in their guests. That’s why them taking their leave saddened her so much. She didn’t feel like working in the library anymore that day.
Iris ended up being in her bed chambers when her husband found her. She had been seated on one of the benches on the balcony connected to the room. The sun was beginning to set by that point, though her gaze was hardly on the colorful sky. Instead it was on the entrance of the valley that Thorin’s Company left in.
“You seem dismayed at their departure,” the Elf noted as he walked onto the balcony.
“Wonderful observation, Elrond,” she responded sarcastically, not looking back at him despite feeling his presence behind her.
“It surprises me that you’d grown so fond of the Dwarves so quickly,” he muttered as he took a seat beside her.
“Perhaps I find them so endearing because they don’t hide things from me like a certain Elf that I know,” she retorted, standing up before he’d even had a chance to fully sit down. She heard him sigh as her hands rested on the balcony’s rail.
“Please understand that I did not want to keep things from you,” Elrond said, also standing up now and walking closer to her. “It was a very confusing situation that we were put in last night. Even for someone like me, I needed time to process it and your questioning me about it became almost overwhelming. I just wanted a moment of silence after everything and the fact that Lady Galadriel and Saruman would be arriving in just a few hours only served to worsen my mood. I apologize for taking it out on you and keeping you in the dark, ilma nin (my starlight), I never meant to do that to you.”
As he finished his apology, one arm wrapped around her. Iris sighed softly, leaning into his touch subconsciously. A content feeling settled in her chest when she felt him press his lips to the crown of her head, an act of comfort he always offered her.
“You are forgiven, but I would like to know everything now,” she finally answered. She felt his lips form a smile against her head before he pulled away to nod.
“Very well, I can do that.”
Both Elrond and Iris were relatively peaceful people and they’re too old to just have petty fights like younger couples. But, that didn’t mean they didn’t have their fair share of disagreements. Thankfully they were able to solve things quickly.
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Halonic Tales of Heroism
characters: WoL(?) - Jalleaux Decisair
word count: 878
had a cute rp based on an idea i’ve had for him
in which jalleaux’s search for a long lost relic of his childhood is rewarded
The concept of summer in Ishgard was obscure, the nights especially not taking heed to the season and leaving the city exceptionally frigid. Unabated by expectations, a light snow had begun to fall, coating the roofs of the residential area in a light blanket that extended down upon the path of ancient stones.
A lone figure walked the street, clad entirely in obsidian black peppered with the purest of white snowflakes. In his hands, he cupped a steaming container, brimming with hot Ishgardian tea, no doubt, from which he would take the off intermittent sip.
Not long after his march of solitude through the streets did a door swing open, a stray gust of wind blowing snow inside before the black-clad figure could close it behind him. The warmth from the hearth beckoned him inward, banishing the flecks of white in a near instant as he made his way towards the welcoming flame.
Shedding his hood and shawl, Jalleaux placed his bag upon the table with great care alongside the tea. Even through it all, he had not forgotten the machinations of a gentle touch, nor when such a thing was required.
Oh, how he desired to immediately retrieve his prize from the satchel, to immerse in the splendor that it housed without a moment's hesitation. But not as so, he reminded himself as he made for his bed chambers.
Armor and leathers alike were shed, as lightly adorned had he been. His lofty frame was soon wrapped in the warmth of more traditional Ishgardian plainclothes as he took a moment to acclimate to the feeling. Too often did he feel as if he were an entity housed in that pitch-black armor, not so much a person but a being. It was indescribable at best, and as he caught his reflection in the mirror, the surreality of it was almost numbing. Feeling himself slipping, he quickly tore his gaze away and made for the hearth again, his attention quickly returning to the satchel.
And just like that, he could feel the heat again, felt like a person again. He sat, as unceremoniously as one does a thousand times without thought. And from the satchel did he retrieve the treasure so precious to him. A relic lost to time, a shard of proof of the elezen that existed before he had become something so different that it almost remained to be seen if there were anything left at all.
"Halonic Tales of Heroism" read the cover, the Fury portrayed with all Her beauty and vehemence adorning a well-worn novel bound in the deepest of blues. A staple of his childhood lost to the Calamity that he had yet feared he would never again come across. Jalleaux had searched every library and bookstore in Ishgard, then outward and onward still, but never held such luck. Years and years had passed, but he had never given up hope.
Tonight, his persistence had finally been rewarded in the tiniest of shops - owned by that kindly viera woman whose tea had warmed his journey home. How strange it was to him. That it had come to him so unceremoniously, not so much as a glorious reunion at the behest of traversing the deepest of hells.
At least, that was what it meant to Jalleaux. Such a simple thing, so stubbornly evading his grasp until now. Not a soul he had mentioned it to even remembered the damn thing. And yet.
As he felt the weight of it in his hands, his eyes seemed to brighten by the tiniest of margins. Those eyes that had been dulled and blunted by horrors unimaginable now alight as though he were a child partaking in the Starlight Celebration.
Not a soul was present to bear witness to the smile that crossed his features as he opened that first yellowed page. An excerpt from the holy teachings preluded, and as his eyes scanned the page, it was as if he were taken back in time in that instance.
Just a young boy sitting upon his father's knee, ever past his bedtime, but what kind of father would send his son to a restless sleep induced by a lack of heroic tales to accompany his dreams?
His lips moved silently as he began the first story, his finger tracing over the words as he had often done as a child. Visions of heroic warriors played an epic within his head, the very hands of Halone Herself occupying his mind's eye. Oh, how he had once longed for the same semblance of glory beheld by these brave knights of old.
The existence he resided in now was a vulgar contradiction to what he had once imagined he would be. The mind of a child is so often blind to the horrors of reality. There was no glory for men like him, for the things he thrust himself into for the sake of the unheard. Unsung, with no reward but the nightmares.
He wasn't there now, however. Right now, as he sat in front of this hearth, sipping tea that almost compared to his mother's (but only almost), the tales of majesty and glory separated him from his grim reality. For now, just for a little bit, he was home.
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