#( thread | dawn summers. ) | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

boxofbonesfic · 8 months

Text

Title: Monster

Kinktober Masterlist

Pairing: Orc!Bucky x Sacrifice!Reader

Kink: Teratophilia (Monsterfucking)

Summary: You draw the devil’s coin in the village lottery, you will buy another season of peace for your people—but you don’t want peace.

Warnings: 18+ Only, Dark Fantasy, Monsterfucking, References to past violence, References to past murder, Witch Burning, Forced Marriage, Dubious Consent, Violence, Revenge, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Darkfic, Dark Fanfiction

A/N: as a note, this story does NOT share a universe with my other Orc story, Brave. this is another version of Orc!Bucky that i cooked up for kinktober. speaking of which, i hope you all enjoy the first installment of my 2023 kinktober ficlets and drabbles! mind the warnings, and enjoy!

Your wedding day dawns bleak and cold. The snows have come early this year, snuffing out the brief, brittle green of summer with icy finality, blanketing the hills in thick layers of white.

Your death day.

“Up with you.” You aren’t asleep, but Thera rips the blanket from you anyway. “Come. It’s time you prepare for your... husband.” There is no pity anywhere on her wrinkled face as she grimaces at you, her eyes dark with disgust. “Witch.” She mutters the last part like a curse you aren’t meant to hear. You do, though, and you bare your teeth at Thera like an animal in response. You are satisfied when fear settles over her features, her rheumy eyes widening.

“If I were a witch,” you hiss, “You would not stand whole before me, Thera Truthspeaker.” This time it is her name that burns in the ear like acid. “You would lay at my feet in pieces.”

She slaps you for the threat, and you taste blood in your mouth as your head jerks painfully. Thera grasps your chin, and you turn dazed eyes toward the old priestess.

“You speak with as foul a tongue as your mother,” she spits.

“Pity you couldn’t burn mine out of me like you did her.” At this, she looks regretful, cutting her eyes at you angrily.

“Lucky for you Demon King likes his brides whole.” She squeezes until you grunt with pain. “And unspoiled.” She tosses your head to the side before standing away from your cot before brushing her hands down her long, thick robes as though wiping your taint from them. “Save your venom, little snake. It is by my grace you were not put to the torch two seasons ago with your witch mother.”

You almost wish they had, instead of forcing the scarred coin into your hand. At least you can serve the light like this, the priest had said, his grim face illuminated by the firelight. You have not forgotten the way your mother’s body burned bright, her head turned heavenward, her mouth open in silent scream as the flames leapt from her blackened lips.

At least you can serve some good when he comes.

Despite her age, Thera’s grip is strong as she forces you up out of the narrow cot. The stone floor of the chapel is like ice on your bare feet as you stumble after her. There is an old metal basin in the chapel’s meager kitchen, and Thera instructs you to strip before ushering you into the steaming water. You hiss at the burn, but it’s the warmest you’ve been in weeks. Months, more-like. She scrubs your skin raw with rough fingers, and tears through your hair with the comb until your scalp stings. When you wince, Thera cracks her open palm against the back of your skull.

“Be still!” Your ears ring from the force of her blow. “This is an honor—a great privilege you have been afforded, though you are tainted and unworthy.”

The laugh that bubbles from your chest is bitter. “This is not your pulpit, Truthspeaker, and I am not your sheep.”

Thera paints the symbols for fertility and prosperity on your damp shoulders in perfumed oil before rubbing them into your skin. She combs the oil through your hair, too, braiding gold thread into it as she pins it up away from your face. As she is closing the bridal robe around your shoulders, the door flies open.

The priest practically falls through it, his face shining with sweat despite the temperature. The charcoal around his wide, fear-bright eyes runs dark on his pale skin, like dark tears tracking down his gaunt cheeks. His terror is catching, your own heart pounding against your ribs.

“He comes! The Demon King comes! He rides for the village!” Thera glances at you, her thin lips curving into a cruel smile.

“And his bride waits.”

—

You have seen a bride taken, once. You were young, six seasons, perhaps? Seven? You saw the Demon King ride away with her, her long, black veil whipping behind her in the icy wind.

Mother had told you not to go, not to watch—It’s barbaric, my love, we needn’t take part—but you couldn’t help yourself. She is lucky, she is blessed, the townspeople murmured amongst themselves as they watched her go. Chosen. She’d drawn the coin from the bag, the same pitted, pocked metal that the priest had forced into your trembling hands as you’d watched your mother burn.

Life for life.

The rope bites into your wrists as you tug uselessly at your bindings. Your breath leaves your lips in frantic clouds of white as you pull and pull. Your only victory is the creak of the rope as it tightens. Your teeth chatter as you stare into the fog. It rolls out between the trunks of the bare trees like tendrils, creeping along the snow-covered ground until it fills the air, obscuring light and sound until all around you is dim as twilight.

“Your bride awaits you,” the priest’s muffled voice trembles. “Take her and honor our agreement, as it has been, and as it shall be.”

For a long time there is no answer from the thick, swirling fog. You count each second, your aching arms stretched above you, the rough wood of the post digging into your back through your cloak. The cold eats away at your bones as you shiver. It’s not snowing any more, but the loose drift blows up into your face as the wind rips at you. The priest’s voice trembles as he begins again.

“Take her and honor our—”

“Silence.”

The voice vibrates powerfully in your very marrow, in your head and all around. He is near. You can barely see a foot in front of you, and now you are glad for it, glad you cannot see the face of your death. The mist swells, roiling angrily around you as your skin prickles with his closeness. You know not what the Dark King looks like, but you know what you have heard murmured in the dark corners of ale-soaked taverns and in the pews of every chapel of the Holy Light—he is darkness, he is devil made flesh and set upon the children of light so that they might know fear.

That the price of flesh paid by your people is all that keeps him from loosing his terrible fury upon the valley—

But you do not yet know you believe.

You are afraid, that much you can tell from the thundering of your heart and the staccato sound of your own breath. You cannot see him, but you know he circles you, like a wolf, just behind the curtain of smoke and mist. The silence is deafening, and for a moment you wonder grimly what the Truthspeakers will do with you if the Devil himself does not take you—

“I accept this offering.”

He steps sideways out of nowhere, the air simply parting like a curtain to reveal him. The Orc regards you silently, watching your breath cloud the air and disappear. He reaches for you and you flinch, but he doesn’t touch you. Instead, he pulls at the ropes. The priest knotted them tightly around the post, but when the Orc pulls lightly, it comes away easily, as if undone by his touch.

His face is more human than you expected, fierce blue eyes set above chiseled cheekbones. His tusks poke out from beneath his bottom lip, but only barely, more evident as he grimaces. You wonder if he is displeased with you, as he looks you over, and you flinch when he reaches out with one massive, gloved hand. He grasps your chin firmly, turning your head this way and that before sighing.

“Come.”

This time, his voice does not echo through the clearing as if spoken by a dozen men. He reaches for you again, this time drawing the dark veil down over your face. His horse is as large and dark as he is, and the great beast paws the ground as you near, and you see your own fearful face reflected in its strange red eyes. He chuckles at your reluctance.

“Afraid, little bride?”

You are. Truly afraid. Of him. Of the village. Of the way forward, wherever it led. But you would not be like Thera, like the cowering priests in their chapel. Your fear would not rule you.

You grasp the reins and fit a foot into the stirrup.

“I am afraid.” Swinging your leg up, you climb into the saddle. “And I am more than fear.” He smiles, the sharp, white points of his teeth gleaming as his lips part.

“Good.” He steps up behind you, and your face flushes with heat as he fits you against his front.

“What are you called?” He hesitates, and you wonder whether or not he will tell you the truth.

“James.”

—

The sun is low in the sky by the time you see the encampment, nestled in the dark, snowy hills like a glowing ember. You tense as you see it, going rigid in the saddle.

“I did not know you came to collect your bride price with an army.” You reply, and behind you James chuckles.

“How else would I make sure it was paid?”

You feel small and alone as you ride into camp, your veil still pulled low over your eyes. The sounds of music and conversation die as the king approaches, the garrison watching with curious apprehension. The pack parts for you, people stepping away from James’ horse with a respectful bow. He is King here, of that there could be no doubt. A great fire blazes at the heart off the encampment, and James rides close enough to feel its heat before dismounting. He holds out his hand to you with a thin smile.

“Come, little wife. Lay aside your fear and let us know your fate.” You return his grim smile with one of your own.

I suppose I always knew it would end in fire.

You take his hand, and James helps you down. For a moment, there is no sound other than the roar of the flames and the shrill whistle of the icy wind.

“She is small.” The voice is heavy with age, and rife with irritation. “It will not be her.” You turn to see the stooped Orc step out from the crowd of onlookers. She leans heavily on the staff she carries, the top adorned with an assortment of feathers and tiny, white bones. James does not look away from you.

“The fire will tell.”

He pushes your bridal robe from your shoulders, undoing the tie around your waist. The cloth falls to the ground, leaving you naked. You are not cold, though, not this close to the fire. The veil he leaves on, and the fabric whispers against your bare ankles. The old Orc hobbles closer, peering at you with her one good eye.

“You know what to do.”

You do—you step into the fire. It burns—burns hotter than anything you have ever known—

But there is no pain. You open your eyes. All around you is light, beautiful, glorious light. You lift an arm, and flames dance along your skin, leaving trails of radiant heat. You raise your arms above your head with a shout. They should have burnt me in the village. You imagine the streets burning bright with your flames.

Something is changed in you, something opened, something broken free, something you’d never even known was caged inside you. You are the fire, it is you—

The old Orc slams the staff against the ground with a sound like thunder, and the flames cool to embers as you drop your arms, panting. You are giddy with power, your heart beating in your chest as fiercely as the flames.

“Fire-sign.” She draws symbols on your face in red ichor, and matching ones on James. Her scarred mouth twists into a smile as she pulls the veil from you. “Burn brightly.”

James gathers you in his arms, lifting you with ease. He makes for one of the tents, pushing aside the heavy canvas hanging over the opening. James spills you unceremoniously onto the furs by the small fire, ripping at his clothes as he sets upon you with his hungry hands and mouth.

“Knew it would be you,” he mumbles as he lowers his mouth to yours. “Could smell the smoke on your skin.”

Gods you burn as he kisses you. You are no longer standing in the fire but you feel it in your veins still, like it’s part of you. Your head swims as though you’d drunk your share of mead, James’ touch only adding to the dizzying rush of sensation. He kneels down between your legs, his eyes dark as he drags them down your writhing body. He licks his lips.

“My fire-sign.” He cups your cunt with one massive hand, trailing a thick finger along your slit. From the bits of hushed gossip you’d overheard from the older women in the village, wifely duties were to be penitently endured, you were to feel pain and discomfort, not this, this—

Fire.

James parts your thighs until they are wide enough to accommodate him, and he bends low. The whites of his eyes barely visible as he stares at your slick center.

“What better wedding gift?” He says lowly, tugging your hips roughly forward until you can feel his breath on your cunt.

You lick your lips. “And what is mine?” You ask, and James laughs. You keen as he licks a long, hot stripe up your soaked slit.

“What would you ask of me?”

“Burn the village.” There are two voices coming from your throat when you speak. There is you, the you you know, the you you have always been—

And there is the fire.

The thing of smoke and passion and rage in your skin now, too.

“Leave nothing standing.”

James lowers his head to your sticky core, and wraps his arms around your thighs anchoring you to his face as he feasts. His tongue slides hungrily through your slick folds, and your eyes fly open a your hips roll of their own accord. You come apart then, shuddering and whining, but he doesn’t stop. Your hands tangle in his dark hair, pulling at his ceremonial braids as he tastes you till you’re dizzy. James finally relinquishes his hold, and when he rises his chin is wet with your pleasure.

“You wish me to wage war, little wife?” He asks, reaching between your bodies to palm his cock. You can’t look away. “To spend fire and blood for you?”

You nod.

“For that, I will require more than a marriage of convenience,” he replies, and you shiver as he taps the head of his cock against you with a slick, sticky noise. You whimper as he circles one of your nipples with his thumb. “I want more than just your body, understand, little bride?” His hand spans half the length of your belly it’s so big, and you stare wide eyed down at his cock.

“I will have all of you.” James growls down at you. “Not part.” You whine as he pushes against you, the blunt head of his cock pressing inside with a pop. Your lips fall open, a strangled moan escaping them. James’ claws dig into your hip, and he utters a curse. You’re already so full of him, you don’t know how more can fit, but James works his hips against yours, rutting shamelessly against you until you swear you’re choking on him.

The ache is so sweet it brings tears to your eyes.

“Y-yes!”

He draws out, leaving you almost empty before filling you with a hard thrust. James moans low in his throat, his head falling back. He cups your face with one hand, dragging his thumb across your lips. You rake your fingers over his muscled chest and he grits his teeth, driving into you harder, curling over you as he presses your knees against your chest.

Your breaths escape you in choked little mewls, your fingers digging into his shoulders as he drowns you in pleasure again, and the fire in your veins swells, consuming you. Behind him, the fire blazes more brightly than ever before, and James looses a low growl, his cock pulsing inside of you.

“Then you will have war, little queen,” he says, nosing down the side of your jaw. He nips at your throat, hard enough to bruise.

You smile.

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes fic #bucky x you #bucky x y/n #bucky x reader #bucky x female reader #sebastian stan #sebastian stan fandom #boxofbonesfic #boxofbones #kinktober #kinktober 2023 #kinktober week 1

1K notes · View notes

itsswritten · 3 months

Text

when the sea calls for three | intro

Paring: Azriel x Reader x Eris

Word Count: 1.5K

Summary: In the aftermath of war, peace reigns over the realms of Prythian, but the delicate balance hangs in the hands of two unlikely mediators—You and Lucien. As the newly appointed Emissaries of Peace, your duty is clear: maintain alliances, foster understanding between courts, and navigate the intricate webs of fae politics.

But when fate deals an unexpected twist, revealing that you possess not one, but two mates, the tranquillity you've worked so hard to uphold is suddenly threatened. Caught between two males who refuse to share, you find yourself thrust into a precarious position, torn between duty and desire.

What will you do and who will you choose?

I need you.

Those three words were all it took.

༄

In the soft glow of the morning light filtering through the room, flickering reflections of pinks and purples across the walls. Dawn Court had always been radiant, the sky, cobalt and rose. A sunrise all day long. You were proud to call it your home.

You stood before the ornate mirror, fingers delicately adjusting the intricate buttons of your tunic.

The decision to choose neutral clothing had been yours, a deliberate choice born from the realisation of what your new role weighed. You were to be a mediator, a peacekeeper, it only seemed fitting to don a uniform that symbolised your neutrality and dedication to maintaining balance among the realms.

The fabric shimmered with a subtle elegance, adorned with delicate motifs that whispered of the courts you now served. The tapestry of symbolism spoke something that words could not, of a new beginning, a new chapter– a time of peace.

The design along the back of your tunic, three majestic mountains rose proudly, their peaks reaching towards the heavens. Behind them, the sun emerged, casting its golden rays that spread warmth and light– a nod to your home.

In the left above, a fully fleshed sun beamed down upon the mountains, radiating its brilliance and vitality. To the right, three stars and a crescent moon were sewn with meticulous care, representing the rest of the solar courts and their celestial splendour.

On your left sleeve, leaves were hand stitched along your cuff, bronze thread danced in a graceful swirl, climbing upwards towards your elbow, mirroring the silver icy shards that adorned the right sleeve. Autumn and Winter in perfect harmony.

Around your collar, a delicate pattern of vines and roses intertwined, symbolising the beauty and vitality of the Spring Court's bloom. And along the trimmings of the tunic's bottom, waves swirled in a mesmerising dance, evoking the Summer Court's boundless energy and fluidity.

Your tunic jacket cascaded gracefully, halting just at your hips, while beneath it, a long, flowing cream pleated skirt billowed elegantly to the floor. With your hair initially draping freely, you gently pulled it forward, ensuring the intricate details adorning the back of your tunic were given their rightful moment to shine.

As you smoothed the fabric, you couldn't help but feel a sense of pride in the role you had been given. Playing a bridge between courts, and worlds. A mediator between the people.

Politics had never really been something you relished in, but you were good with people, and good with your words. Qualities that your friend desperately convinced you, were integral to this role.

A soft knock on the door interrupted your reverie, and you turned to see Lucien, your friend, standing in the doorway. His mechanical eye wiring at the sight of you. He was wearing a similar tunic, one that was longer on his body but mirrored the designs of your own.

It was Lucien who had told you he needed you.

I need you.

He had written to you one evening. His correspondences were usually lighthearted and filled with friendly banter, but this weighed heavily in a way that was so unlike him.

“I could really use your help.” Lucien had breathed, when you came to visit after his letter.

I need you. I need my friend. I need someone to lean on. I need someone to laugh with. It’s been too long. I miss you.

Was what you heard. His message had been simple yet poignant, a plea for assistance and companionship.

You had always had a way with words and sounds. Understanding the gaps in between the breaths, the underlying emotions and intentions woven into each syllable. Most didn't realise what could be revealed in their words. How the octaves and melodic tones of their tongues sung of unspoken truths.

Lucien and you had shared a friendship that spanned many years, reaching back to your earliest memories of childhood. As children and teens, you had been inseparable, playmates in a time that now felt like a distant memory. However, when borders grew stricter and tensions mounted, those days were abruptly halted.

It wasn't until the dark days of Amarantha's reign that fate brought you back together, through the intervention of Nuan, a mutual friend. She was a skilled Alchemist of your court, who had aided Lucein in his healing, crafting his beautiful golden eye. And because he was no longer a part of Autumn, you were able to reconnect and your friendship flourished, even if it was predominantly through ink and parchment.

"Ready to face them?" he asked with a tight smile, his voice carrying a note of anticipation.

I’m nervous. Is what you heard under his words.

You returned his smile with a nod, a playful glint dancing in your eyes. “Of course, I was born ready Lucie” you replied, effortlessly flicking his nickname with a casual ease.

Despite having a smart mouth now, Lucien was a name you often got tongue-tied in your younger years. Lucie had been a much easier sound to make, and you didn’t hesitate to use the endearing name when wanting to tease.

Lucien rolled his eyes, but your casual demeanour softened the nerves that had laced his previous words. That had been your intention.

Just one example of how your intuition always left you saying the right thing. Of course there were times this didn’t happen, but those occasions were extremely rare.

“We should decide which courts reside under our care before the meeting” Lucien began, striding in front of the mirror to adjust his own tunic. “And I have to say you’ve made more progress with Tamlin these past two months than I have in the past year," Lucien breathed, a hint of admiration in his voice while he smiled at you through the mirror.

You raised an eyebrow, a smirk playing at the corner of your lips. "What, like it was hard?"

Tamlin's stubbornness had been a challenge, but your natural charisma and persuasion had proven effective in bridging the gap between his court and the others. His residents had at least started returning home, and thanks to your work, there was actually something for them to return to.

You huffed, before turning your friend around, pulling at his collar to adjust. Before tidying up his long auburn hair.

"I can’t do both though Lucien. I'm not dealing with your brothers and Tamlin. That's too much, even for me” You remarked.

Lucien’s relationship with his brothers remained strained, the scars of their shared trauma running deep. Despite Beron’s demise, Eris was now Autumn’s High Lord. The brothers wounds were not so easily healed, and the weight of their history continued to cast a shadow over their interactions.

“Plus I do believe some forced proximity may do you and Tamlin some good” you pointed a look at him, referencing their damaged friendship.

Lucien bit the inside of his cheek, his eyes narrowing at you. He couldn’t help but envy how effortlessly you seemed to navigate the complexities of every situation, every conversation. Always knowing the right words to say, and the right actions to take. Qualities that had undoubtedly drawn him to seek your assistance in the first place.

Qualities he forgot he would also be susceptible to.

"I'll look after Autumn and your hotheaded brothers. You deal with the depressed blondie," you suggested, a mischievous glint dancing in your eyes.

"Fine," Lucien conceded, begrudgingly acknowledging the wisdom in your words.

“I want Dawn, it’s my home and Thesan would be heartbroken if I wasn’t his courtier,” you asserted confidently.

"Then I'll have Day," Lucien negotiated, a hint of determination in his tone.

As the conversation turned to the remaining courts, you paused, considering the options carefully. The Night Court held a particular significance for Lucien, given his mate's presence there, but you were keenly aware of the tension that still lingered between them.

"I can take Night if that helps. I've already been the one updating their Spymaster recently anyway," you offered, your voice steady as you finally finished straightening up Lucien. Pulling your hands swiftly behind your back.

He mirrored your pose "Then I will manage Winter," Lucien conceded, a sense of resignation colouring his words. He wasn’t very fond of the cold, but neither were you.

But he was happy to take this one for you, as you had taken Autumn and Night for him.

"Summer is mine. You can have the humans, your Band of Rejects or whatever they're called," you remarked playfully.

"Exiles," Lucien corrected with a humorous purr, a brief flicker of amusement softening his eyes.

“Apologies…band of exile…-d rejects” you humoured, before you felt him nudge you with his shoulder.

Your soft laughs filled the room before you tilted your head to look at your dearest friend “Look at you now. Exiled no more. Mr. Emissary of Peace”

Lucien smiled proudly at the title, he had come a long way. This new chapter for Phrytian was daunting, but he was grateful to have you by his side “You ready?”

With a nod you grinned wide “Let’s go peacekeep the fuck out of them Lucie!”

Next Part >>

a/n: Eeeekkkk so here's a little intro to set the tone and roles! Just a little disclaimer, there will be a few things in this series that haven't happened in the books, but it works for the plot. Only small things, so just go with it please! Excited to share this story with you all <3 - Lottie x

#acotar #azriel x reader #azriel x you #acotar azriel #azriel fanfic #angst #acotar fanfiction #acotar series #azriel shadowsinger #azriel spymaster #eris x azriel #eris vanserra x reader #eris vanserra #eris acotar #eris x reader #eris x reader x azriel #eris x y/n #eris x you #azriel x eris

344 notes · View notes

papiliotao · 9 months

Text

꒰ 𝒂 𝒇𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒚𝒕𝒂𝒍𝒆 𝒆𝒏𝒅𝒊𝒏𝒈 ✩࿐

pairing: lyney x gn!reader

content: fluff, modern au, high school au, friends to (almost) lovers, mutual pining, theatre kids, lyney and the reader rehearse a kissing scene

summary: playing the role of his lover in a drama production is easier said than done, especially when you’re just beginning to realize the nature of your feelings for him.

a/n: i had no inspiration for a while but then lyney came along. i’m so normal about him. anyway, i hope you enjoy reading!

When you were told that you had to kiss your best friend for a school play, you were in shock and disbelief — not because you were repulsed by the thought of playing the part of a couple, but because you realized that you didn’t mind the idea of his lips pressed against yours.

You’re not quite sure when the feelings crept up on you, dawning in your heart like the hazes of peach and azure that dust the horizon at sunrise. It feels like it’s been an eternity since you started loving Lyney, but you’ve just never noticed that your adoration was beyond platonic.

However, after experiencing your epiphany, you’ve been wondering if he shares your rose-tinted sentiments. Slowly but surely, you observe that the lines between friendship and romance have become blurred, fusing together in a myriad of watercolour hues.

Every once in a while, Lyney will hold your hand for no reason, the softness of his skin akin to the caress of gilded threads of sunlight. There are also instances where he’ll hug you for just a little too long, clinging onto you as if he never wants to let go. And of course, you’ll never be able to forget the sentimental nights spent gazing up at murals of sparkling constellations dotting pristine navy skies, where you cuddle with your best friend in an attempt to stay warm.

In these instances, a simple question lingers in the short silences, an untold inquiry that neither of you care to utter in fear of shattering the status quo.

What are we?

So now, as you sit across from Lyney atop the velvety cushions of his living room couch, ready to rehearse very kiss that sent you spiraling into a bout of infatuated hysteria in the first place, your heart can’t help but race. The melody it sings is one that speaks of perplexing feelings and a hope for fairytale endings, and it only amplifies as you look into pale violet eyes that sparkle as iridescent petals flutter about in their depths.

“I’m ready whenever you are,” Lyney whispers, smiling at you reassuringly. There’s something soothing about the expression on his face, embodying the serenity of a marine zephyr in the midst of a cruel summer.

“How can you be so calm when we’re about to practice a kiss?” you ask, voicing your thoughts out loud. “What if we’re not good enough?”

Truthfully, you’re a nervous wreck. Your fingers tremble, and your mind feels blank. You’ve always known that Lyney was born to be on stage, but you didn’t think he’d be so nonchalant in a situation like this. His disposition is completely composed, not a single spark of anxiety shining through his tranquil demeanour.

On the other hand, you’re constantly pondering the what ifs.

What if you mess the scene up? What if it turns out looking awkward? What if it’s so horrendous that it makes the audience uncomfortable.

However, in total contrast to you, Lyney simply chuckles, his voice ringing out in a clear and soothing fantasia.

“Don’t worry,” he reassures you, keeping his gaze fixated on you. “I’m sure our chemistry will be absolutely perfect. After all, even Lynette has mistaken us for a couple.”

“She has?” you blurt out, both shocked and embarrassed that Lyney’s twin has had her misconceptions about your relationship. The two are practically telepathically linked, so the tall order of fooling Lynette would more or less be akin to deceiving the heavens above.

“She has,” Lyney confirms, a mischievous spark of violet electricity blazing through his irises, “and that’s why I’m certain we’ll be able to pull this off flawlessly.”

He gently laces his fingers around your hand, bringing it up to his chest.

“Besides, it’s not like I’m not nervous at all.” From beneath the soft fabric of Lyney’s clothes, you can feel a gentle thrumming, a beat that resounds at a tempo matching that of your very own heart. “You know, even the greatest of performers get stage fright sometimes.”

In a mystifying twist, you feel more comfortable now that Lyney has told you that you’re not alone in your anxiousness. Your relief defies all logic, but perhaps it’s the knowledge that your feelings aren’t entirely unreasonable that soothes your nerves.

“I see,” you whisper. “Well I’m sure you’ll do great. We’ll get through this together.”

Lyney nods.

“I’m just glad it’s you,” he says, pausing for a moment as if deep in thought. “Actually, ‘glad’ would be an understatement. ‘Beyond overjoyed’ is more accurate.”

Your breath hitches, and for a second, the world seems to still, suspended in a momentary utopia. But despite your giddiness and the euphoric feelings that arise in your heart, you shrug Lyney’s words off, trying your best not to get your hopes up. After all, if you expect too much, you might find yourself disappointed in the end.

“The feeling is mutual. Although maybe we should get to rehearsing now. I think I’m ready,” you tell him, pulling your hand out of his grasp in a light motion, clinging on to the last of his warmth as his skin grazes yours. It’s reminiscent of fading sunlight comforting you with the dazzling radiance of a dying crepuscule, lulling you into a daze as it causes shades of twilight to waltz in a dance of fantastical wonders.

“Your wish is my command,” Lyney responds playfully.

However, after only a few seconds, his features shift into a more serious expression. Although the same smile is still adorning his lips, it’s softer now, more sincere.

Is this all part of an act, or is it real?

Additionally, an unidentifiable emotion now glints in a display of diamond lights, illuminating the seas of amethyst contained within Lyney’s eyes. Locks of platinum hair, composed of starlight essence, frame his face in a way that makes him look undeniably handsome. Once again, your heart, which had just barely stilled, begins to beat in a frenzy.

You want nothing more than to freeze time, stay in this ephemeral moment, relish in the sensation of his breath gently tickling your skin and engrave the ethereal sight before you into archives stored deep within your memories. But unfortunately, it’s impossible to pause the scene before you. Reality, unlike the countless movies and videos you’ve watched to study your part, stops for no one.

And before you know it, the divide between your lips and Lyney’s is diminishing, the blank space fading at a pace that feels both far too rapid yet far too prolonged at the same time.

Closer.

And closer.

Until your lips meet in a clash of opalescent sparks, shedding light and embellishing the magical moment with an atmosphere worthy of any stage. The lilac butterflies that dance in the pit of your stomach prompt sensations of glee to arise within your heart.

His skin is soft and warm, and the feeling of his lips against yours is just so right. There’s no one else you’d rather kiss. There’s no one else you’ll ever long for. There’s no one in the world you’ll ever love more.

No matter how much you deny it, your relationship has crossed the line from platonic to romantic, gradually edging closer and closer to a thin border before finally falling over onto the other side. Your kiss with Lyney confirms everything. There’s far too much passion, far too much care and longing exchanged in a single act of affection.

Best friends don’t kiss each other like this.

At this point you’re certain the feeling is mutual. Now, all you have to do is wait until one of you inevitably confesses, and you’ll both be able to finally live happily ever after, basking in the splendor of true love.

thank you for reading <3 if you enjoyed this fic, i would really appreciate it if you could comment or reblog!

#r.archives *ೃ༄#favoniuslibrary #astronetwrk #lyney x reader #lyney x you #lyney fluff #genshin impact x reader #genshin imagines #genshin x reader #genshin headcanons #genshin impact #genshin #genshin fanfic #genshin lyney

987 notes · View notes

4dango-the2nd · 10 months

Text

4Dango Comic Masterlist

These are mostly twitter links right now. I’ll slowly replace them with the tumblr posts as I upload the comics here!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

BIRTHDAYS Anthology

Bennett’s Birthday (twt 2022)

Childe’s Birthday (twt 2021) (2022)

Diluc’s Birthday (twt 2021)

Eula’s Birthday (twt 2021)

Jean’s Birthday (twt 2022)

Kaeya’s Birthday (twt 2020)

Kaveh's Birthday (2023)

Kokomi’s Birthday (2022)

Razor’s Birthday (twt 2021)

Rosaria’s Birthday (twt 2022)

Sara’s Birthday (2022)

Xiao’s Birthday (2021)

Zhongli’s Birthday (twt 2021)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

CELEBRATION Anthology

Secret Santa (2020)

Father’s Day (twt 2021)

Christmas (2021)

New Year (2022)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

MONDSTADT Anthology

Albedo-centric:

Voices in Ice & Snow (Corrupted Albedo dj, Completed) [twitter] [webtoon]

Cold Tolerance & Homunculus Body (ft. Albedo, Aether)

My Sword (ft. Albedo, Aether, CW: GORE)

Ghost AU page test (ft. Albedo, Aether)

“Father” (ft. Albedo, Subject 2, Dainsleif)

Fleeting Shadow (ft. Albedo, Subject 2, Aether)

Teasing Huffman (ft. Albedo, Huffman)

Dawn Winery centric (Diluc, Kaeya, Adelinde):

Eye (ft. Diluc & Kaeya)

Badass Adelinde

Diluc’s Raw Strength (ft. Diluc, poor hilichurl)

Long Live The King (ft. Kaeya, Diluc, Kaeya’s father)

500 Years (ft. Kaeya, Kaeya’s father)

Rain Anthology flipbook animation

AUs:

LUPICAL (Modern AU) [webtoon]

Mondt Gala [twitter thread]

Others:

Klee’s Big Bang skill (animation)

Use Your Claws, Boy (ft. Razor, Rosaria)

If You Hurt Him (ft. Razor, Rosaria)

Shadows (ft. Diluc & Rosaria, crack ship)

Growing Up (ft. Razor, Klee) [part 1] [part 2] [part 3] [part 4]

Ties (ft. Diluc, Razor)

Summer Event (ft. Razor, Diluc, Kaeya, Albedo, Dvalin)

Viktor & Lily

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

LIYUE Anthology

Ancient Liyue Collection

Burning Karmic Debt (Indarias’ death)

Farewell Harvia

Xiao’s Hobby

Qiqi’s Wish (Lantern Rite comic, ft. Qiqi, Xiao)

Resonant Wave zine entry (ft. Tartali, Childe/Zhongli)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

INAZUMA Anthology

Teppei’s Ambition (ft. Teppei, Aether, Scaramouche)

Familiar Fatui Recruit (ft. Aether, Childe, Chouji)

Grand Aspiration (ft. Kazuha, Kazuha’s Friend)

Orobashi & his Generals (character fandesigns)

Rui & Kanna Kapatcir (character fandesigns)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

SCARAMOUCHE Anthology

KAGOME [Webtoon compilation]

Kabukimono's Tales of Tatarasuna

[part 1] [part 2] [part 3] [part 4]

If Niwa, Katsuragi, & Nagamasa comes back to life (ft. Wanderer)

If Niwa comes back to life (ft. Wanderer, Kazuha, Niwa)

Kabukitty

Standalones not featured in my books:

Catharsis (ft. Wanderer, Dottore)

Wanderer animation (based on Deko’s illustration)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

SUMERU Anthology

Bug Talks (ft. Collei, Cyno)

Following Footsteps (ft. Cyno, Collei)

Caretaker & Protector (ft. Collei, Cyno, Tighnari)

Pay Attention, Or Else (ft. Collei, Cyno, Tighnari, Aether)

Do You Remember (ft. Nahida, Aether, Lumine)

Ashes & You (ft. Kaveh, Alhaitham)

Samsara (ft. Dottore, Nahida)

Flower for my most gallant knight (ft. Dehya, Dunyarzad)

Your Turn, Milady (ft. Dehya, Dunyarzad)

NPC-centric:

The Gilded Sand’s Lullaby (ft. Jeht, Jebrael)

Falcon’s Sunset (ft. Aether, Tadhla)

Child of Snow & Forest (ft. Alphonso, Rana, Arana)

Waiting Forever (ft. Alphonso, Aether, Iotham)

Zandik’s Dream (ft. Zandik/Dottore, Rukkhadevata)

Character Fandesigns

Professor Cyrus [grandpa energy] [fandesign]

Pari [part 1 twt] [part 2 twt]

Sheikh Zubayr (doodle)

Greater Lord Rukkhadevata (before cutscene release)

Nabu Malikata, Goddess of Flower��

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Others

Rhinedottir fandesign

We Promised (ft. Aether, Lumine)

“I’m Just A Feeble Scholar” (commission, ft. Alhaitham/Aether)

Albedo vs Childe rough animatic

Abyss Memories [part 1, ft. Kazuha, Kazuha’s Friend] [part 2, ft. Lumine, Enjou, Kazuha’s Friend]

Missing You (ft Aether, Lumine, Albedo)

Humble Wish (ft. Lumine, Dainsleif, Aether)

Deception (ft. Aether, Venti, Zhongli)

#genshin #genshinimpact #genshin impact #4dango #4dango comic #4dango genshin comic #masterlist #im feeling a little insane

923 notes · View notes

satoruxx · 9 months

Text

MORNING CHILLS.

✧ PAIRING: diluc ragnvindr x reader | 1.2k words

✧ SUMMARY: fluff, lots of domesticity, established relationship, clingy diluc, clingy reader, lots of clinginess overall, this is way too cheesy, an absurd amount of sweetness really, but anyways domestic mornings !!

✧ RHEYA'S NOTE: this is my entry for the summer santa event hosted by @solarisfortuneia and i got assigned to @pvbbyb0y !! i’m so sorry it’s late but i’m really hoping you enjoy this hehe :D i had a lot of fun writing it (diluc my beloved mwah)

despite wielding a pyro vision, diluc ragnvindr runs cold in the mornings.

you'll probably tell him he's absurd, clinging to him for warmth whenever you can, but he knows in his gut that it's true. he's usually warm, except for the early dawns, when he's roused from sleep and even the slightest shift of his skin against the sheets makes him shiver.

he used to hate the mornings for this exact reason. he hated being pulled from the comforting warmth of his dreams only to realize that there was nothing but cold and emptiness in the bed he slept in. he hated the feeling of ripping the sheets away from his body, hated the feeling of goosebumps rising over his flesh, hated the feeling of his bare feet touching the cold wood of the manor's floors. he hated it all.

he tells you as much one morning, when you're still hazy with sleep and slow to process his words.

"isn't it strange that those with pyro visions aren't always warm?" he asks quietly, voice thick with sleep as he speaks out into the silence. you attempt to crack an eye open, but the sunlight filtering in through the curtains makes you flinch, and you opt for burying your face into his arm instead.

when you answer, your voice is muffled against his skin. "what are you talking about?"

he sighs, quietly, so that he doesn't break the peace. he's been scared of doing that lately. "i'm always cold in the mornings..."

there's a silence that lingers in the air before you're snorting out a laugh, shaking your head. "no you aren't."

diluc sits up a little, so that his back can rest against one of the pillows. the sheets slide down his body a little, and he almost hisses as the cool air hits his skin. he eyes your disheveled hair, confusion evident in his tone. "yes i am." he replies simply.

you finally pick your head up to glare at him critically, unlatching yourself from his arm. "you're ridiculous, no you are not." you say, groggily adjusting yourself so that you can rest your face against his chest and drape your arm over his waist. "you run so warm all the time. it's the most pleasant thing ever."

he pauses, looking down at you with interest, his calloused palms coming up to thread through your hair like it's routine. "oh? what do you mean by that?"

"i mean," you stress with a sigh. "that you're so warm and so comfortable and it makes me feel clingy."

you say all of this with a grumpy pout, and diluc can already tell your only goal right now is to go back to sleep. the thought makes him bite back a grin, because it's almost funny how you can say these sweet things with such an exasperated expression. he doesn't really have an answer to give back, and instead he smiles to himself, fingers coming down to drift over the skin of your arm.

there's another comfortable silence between the two of you and diluc's thoughts travel through his head slowly, lazily.

"i hate the cold, you know?" he muses, gaze trained on the folds of his bedsheets with disinterest.

"is this another horribly concealed jab at captain kaeya?"

he laughs despite himself, shaking his head even though you can't see him with your eyes closed. "no, this isn't about kaeya. i just don't like how the cold makes me feel." he answers as his laughs die down, fingers still tracing patterns over your skin. "especially in the morning, when i have to get out of bed."

"why's that?"

he pauses, smiling to himself and leaning down to press a kiss to the crown of your head. "because you're warm, and when i get out of bed i can't hold you, so it makes me cold."

a tired giggle escapes your lips, and you shake your head against his chest playfully. "i hope you know that was extremely cheesy, diluc."

he shrugs, choosing to keep the rest of his thoughts to himself. one day, he'll find a way to explain it to you properly. how cold he's gotten used to feeling in an empty bed and how he always believed that cold would remain with him, lonely and isolating and oh so frigid. he'll find a way to tell you that he now hates getting out of bed because he can't bring himself to let go of your addicting warmth, in all of its loving and welcoming glory. he'll somehow find a way to let you know that it's almost torture for him to rip himself away from your embrace every single day.

but for now, he'll keep those thoughts to himself.

he moves to get up, and immediately your eyes shoot open, grip tightening. he laughs quietly, as though this doesn't occur every morning. "you know i have to get up, my love."

"you don't." you say simply, tugging his hand ever so slightly. "you could just stay."

his shoulders drop, a helpless smile on his face as he reaches over to smooth down your hair.

“and who would take care of the manor?” he asks, tilting his head as a few strands of fiery red hair fall across his eyes.

"adelinde runs the place better than you do."

"oh, she does." diluc chuckles, pressing his lips to your temple. "but that doesn't mean i don't have to attend to my duties too."

the look you give him is criminally endearing, and his sigh comes out more indulgent than anything else, powerless in front of you. he moves to get back into bed, and you make yourself comfortable against him again.

he doesn't even have it in him to be angry, instead just letting his fingers stroke your hair and lull you back into that sweet sense of security you claim to feel in his arms.

and all diluc ragnvindr can do in that moment is smile to himself, feeling slightly helpless but oh so warm and fuzzy.

he waits until he's sure you've fallen asleep again to finally get up, the telltale sign of your breathing getting slower so familiar to him it makes his stomach flip. your words echo in his head, and a smile tugs at his lips as he forces himself to turn away from you and get himself ready for the day. truthfully, if you opened your eyes again and asked him to stay, he'd get back into bed with you in a heartbeat. because you look so warm all cuddled up in his sheets like that, lips parted and hair mussed like it's the most natural thing in the world.

and archons above he was starting to feel cold all over again.

893 notes · View notes

shadowdaddies · 6 months

Note

is it okay if I request a lot?

Can you do a smut where it's just like lots of wingplay? With the same Summer Court female and Az? You wrote my last ask so beautifully it was amazing to wake up to, especially because you answered so fast!!!

honey it's okay if you request a LOT a lot, lol sometimes it takes me a little longer to get through my requests but I'm ALWAYS excited to see your ideas💜 and I love Az and the summer court reader, they're so sweet

A/N: this is a continuation of Part 1 but can be read separately

Wings of Desire (Pt. II)

Azriel x Reader

Warnings: smut below the cut, oral f!receiving, p in v sex, wing play, minors dni, not proofread sry

You lurched awake in the bed, covered in sweat as you quickly took stock of your surroundings. Only once you had confirmed it was just the same nightmare as always did you allow yourself to breathe. A shiver ran down your spine as cold caressed your cheek, a shadow dancing along the wall before slipping through the door.

You shook your head, realizing that you must be imagining things after that horrific dream. Before you could get swept up in the memories you had recalled in your sleep, you looked around the space, grounding yourself in the present. A small smile graced your lips as you remembered where you were.

It was cozy in the High Lord’s cabin. Despite the unfamiliar chill of winter, the house was as warm and comfortable as ever. The space next to you on the mattress was empty, however - different from how you had fallen asleep next to a certain shadowsinger. As if summoned by your thoughts, Azriel knocked softly on the door to your room. “May I come in?” his low voice sounded through the door.

A small laugh escaped you at the ridiculous question. “I fell asleep with you in here. Of course you can come in.” Only a moment passed, but it felt like a century before Azriel slowly entered the room, softly closing the door behind him. “I just wanted to check on you.”

Realization dawned on you as you cocked an amused brow at the spymaster. “Would the shadow you left behind have anything to do with your concern?” You admired the blush that reddened his cheeks as your theory was confirmed.

“I didn’t think it was appropriate to stay in here with you while you slept, but that shadow insisted on staying behind with you.” He spoke as if the shadow were an unruly child, and you couldn’t help but giggle at the thought of the feared Night Court spymaster having trouble controlling his shadows.

“I much preferred it when you were in here with me, if you would like to stay in here,” you whispered, looking at Azriel with hopeful eyes. Another one of those rare smiles flashed across his face for a moment, before he schooled his features into an indifferent facade.

“Of course,” Azriel murmured, moving to settle into his old spot under the sheets next to you. His shadows danced as the male settled into the sheets, and you watched enraptured by their personality. They seemed to be more telling than their master when it came to emotions. One shadow - likely the one who had stayed with you through your nightmare - darted out to brush your cheek, twirling through your hair as you let out a loud laugh at its playful nature.

As if your laugh got their attention, more shadows followed suit. They all moved towards you, like puppies eager for your attention. They played with your hair and clothes, until they brushed the inside of your wings, eliciting a loud moan from you.

Azriel shot up in bed, frantic as he studied your face. “Are you okay? They aren’t bothering you, are they?” It was your turn to blush now, embarrassed by the scent of your arousal, which the shadowsinger had clearly picked up on, if his darkening eyes were any indication. He was frozen above you, eyes searching yours for an answer to his unasked question.

You reached up, threading your fingers through the hair at the nape of Azriel’s neck as you gently guided him towards you, your own eyes searching for any hesitation. Instead, Azriel eagerly leaned into your hold, lips brushing lightly against yours in a soft kiss. Shadows danced across your wings once more, this time eliciting a moan as you arched into Azriel.

The energy between you changed drastically - turning from a chaste kiss to fervent need for more. Teeth and tongues clashed as Azriel climbed on top of you, both of you grinding against each other in a frenzy. You had never felt the need for someone like this, desperate to consume and be consumed as you ran your own hand down the outside of Azriel’s wing.

He growled into your mouth at the touch, and you smirked into the kiss - a silent challenge which he understood. Azriel quickly lifted your nightgown, leaving you bare and him only in his pants as he kissed his way down your body. He read you like a book, taking note of your reaction to every touch, knowing where to move next as you writhed under his hold.

The same shadows that had been teasingly brushing your wings now skated over your bare body, teasing your breasts and clit as Azriel licked a stripe up your core. Gripping your thighs, Az held you open as he ate you out hungrily, enjoying how you moaned praises at his touch. A scarred finger pushed into you, curling against your walls as Azriel sucked on your clit, his shadows oscillating against your wings. The overstimulation sent you over the edge with a scream, vision fading in and out as Azriel worked you through your orgasm.

The moment the smirking spymaster came back into focus above you, you shoved his pants down with your feet, ready to take control of the situation. When you tried to flip Azriel over to ride him, shadows wrapped around your waist, pinning you against the bed. Azriel smirked, shaking his head as he leaned down to suck on your neck.

“Let me pleasure you for tonight, love,” he murmured, his deep rasping voice sending a shock of pleasure through you. Hazel eyes watched yours as Azriel pulled your leg over his shoulder, lining up at your entrance. A rough laugh left his lips as you wiggled your hips in encouragement, eager to be filled by him.

Azriel pushed into you, making you feel more full than ever with his size. The both of you moaned at the feeling when he settled inside of you, waiting a moment to adjust before he began thrusting. Finding the spot that earned the most reaction from you, Azriel held you in place as he pounded relentlessly, stealing the breath from your lungs as he worked you.

You clenched around him as you neared a second orgasm, and desperate to have him come with you, you reached your hands out to his wings. Fingers slid along the dark veins, satisfaction filling you as Azriel came inside you with a roar. Shadows were unleashed, again overstimulating your clit and wings as the both of you came together.

Azriel fell to his elbows, hovering over you as he left kisses all over your face. Giggling under his sweet touch, you lightly pushed the shadowsinger back to look at him, shocked by the feeling that rushed through you as you looked in his eyes. “Mate,” you whispered.

A brighter smile than that which you had ever seen from Azriel graced his features. “Mates,” he confirmed.

606 notes · View notes

leclsrc · 6 months

Note

congrats on 5k!!! :0

if you feel so inclined… charles and prompt 14 or 17 from the nsfw list please? :)

on the way – cl16

(tipsy sex & marking) Charles can usually control himself better than this.

auds here... i cheated! it's not tipsy sex per se... but there r MANY smut references so i hope u enjoy it nonetheless!!!!

nsfw warnings under the cut!

18+ because... male masturbation, mentions of penetrative/handjob sex (f receiving), oral sex (m receiving), charles & reader are in an undefined (implied fwb/fuck buddy) relationship

You said you’d try to hide them.

Granted, he thinks to himself, there was a clear attempt—semi-opaque patches of your most expensive concealer, dabbed with precision over the darkened blotches of love on your throat and the slightly lighter one on the protrusion of your left collarbone. But it’s not enough, the purples still filtering through like moonlight through thick blinds. Like last night, in his hotel room, when you’d whimpered his name through a strained voice, begged for more.

And you’re giggling, muffling an angelic laugh into the heel of your palm, into the same little hand that’d been wrapped around his cock less than twenty-four hours ago. Beside you, Lissie is digging her elbow into your waist to tease, but your eyes meet his and you seem to possess no ounce of regret.

No regret over having to leave the room at the crack of dawn, exchanging sloppy kisses in lieu of a formal goodbye. No regret over waking up to a self-set alarm instead of sleeping in, feeling Charles’ fingers already at your thighs. Just give me one, angel, he groaned out, feeling your cunt gush around him. No regret there at all.

So? He can hear Lissie’s impatience from metres away. He watches you another minute, watches you sweep your waved hair over your shoulder to try and hide them in the shadow, then turns to respond to something Pierre is saying. He can’t suppress his own smirk when he listens to her follow-up question. Who left those marks?

He retires to an empty hotel room, thinks of shooting you a text but thinks better after a split second. Thinks worse after a split of Scotch, thumb hovering over the send button on your text thread, which is always composed of the same shit: room numbers, times, greenlights. He thought it’d be easier to have this whole arrangement, considering it was his idea—but God, when he sees you, it’s like something in him just changes.

And tonight, when you’d worn that black dress, thin straps showing the remnants of your tan from over the summer. He wonders how insane he must’ve been to think he wouldn’t need you all the time. Wonders how much more of this he can take before he goes insane again. He wasn’t always this needy, was he? It’s you, he thinks, that’s the only explanation.

Your scent, sweet and natural, your eyes, the way they blink up at him when you’re on your knees, your lips, your body, everything. He sneaks a glance at his crotch, his hard-on thick under his jeans from the conjured memory of you alone. He feels himself get harder, thoughts running more rampant—last night, when you’d been so wet for him, so needy.

His mind pleasantly hazed out, he tugs his cock out and wraps his hand around the head, giving himself a few slow strokes. His hand’s so rough, so big—a contrast from yours, so much smaller your fingertips fail to meet around the girth of him. He tries to imagine that, then your lips, the perfect full curve of them wrapped around him, staying still so he can fuck into them. You’re addictive, he thinks, murmuring your name as he speeds up his pace.

If it’s genuinely something, or if it’s just plain lust—Charles could care less at this moment.

At this moment, actually, he’s positive this is just thick, intense lust, a near craving to fold you in half and stretch you open around his dick. His hand moves faster, harder, and he thinks finally of the way you moan his name—high, needy, damp against his ear—and he opens his eyes and pants, watching his spend leak out of him.

Yeah, he needs you to come over.

#f1 #charles leclerc #charles leclerc imagines #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc drabble #charles leclerc smut #f1 x reader #leclsrc at 5000

312 notes · View notes

cherry-leclerc · 3 months

Text

method acting ☆ cl16

genre: series, glimpse of angst, fluff, humor, strangers to friends/roommates to lovers, a bit of back and forth

word count: 4.2k

cherry here!...and it all comes crashing down.

ch. one ch. two ch. three ch. four ch. five ch. six

Chapter 5

Life, as you fear, is falling apart as you're confronted with a serious case of writer's block that puts your career on the line. As a solution, you're roommate helps you plan a solo trip to the Amalfi Coast for a much needed break but it doesn't take long for you to meet a certain Monegasque who lays passed out on the beach.

For years, you spent time behind a screen, mindlessly running after Eleanor with a notepad, messy hair sticking out like a madwoman. It must’ve been quite the sight for your fellow colleagues. A constant cycle of proving yourself to others—to your own fucking parents—that what you were doing was going to be all worth it at the end. It was only right that you were utterly exhausted.

Now suddenly, there’s this boy. He has the prettiest watercolor eyes you’ve even had the pleasure of admiring, the cutest dimples, a charming nose, most feathery lashes, pinkest lips, and above all; a heart of gold. You’ve been thrown the toughest battles—the kind you would’ve fought alone if it weren’t for Amelia and Roman—but the universe has rewarded you.

In the span of a month, Charles has completely won you over. From his boyish grin to his dominating smirk. There was just something about him that fell into place with you; like a puzzle piece. The Monegasque never failed to make you feel giddy all over, butterflies soaring freely inside your stomach.

Only now, there were a different type of eyes lurking back at you. Livid, you almost flinched at the thought of them turning red. Resentful, the kind you only thought you knew. Broken, like the glass plate laying at your feet.

But the worst had to be the betrayal, written all over them.

And you knew at that moment. This was the last and only summer.

“Wouldn’t it be scary if I just zip down because a shark bit my leg?” you ponder, gently threading through the tides. The green eyed boy tilts his head in amusement. If he hadn’t taken the time to understand your wild imagination, or dark humor, then he would’ve rolled his eyes and yawned. Instead, he slowly nudges your calf, lighthearted, droplets sliding down his face.

“Not so much as scary, but rather impossible. Sharks don’t swim near the Amalfi Coast.” You nod, though there’s a skeptical aura that lingers as you fix your snorkel. The brunette sneaks a loving glance, taking in your rosy state, scrunched nose when you swallow a gallon of sea salt water. He laughs. “You should keep an eye out for jellyfish, eh. Now those are a problem.”

“Jellyfishes and I are friends. They would never intentionally hurt me. C’mon, let's go back.”

The day had started early. Four fucking a.m. The Monegasque had hurled you out of bed, declaring that time was running out and he needed to spend all of it with you. The day prior, he had promised he would always text, call, and visit. It made your heart flutter and pounce all at the same time.

Hence, snorkeling. It was a fun and quick activity, so naturally you agreed with a killer pout as you squinted at the bright sun, despite it being the crack of dawn. Signaling to a glimmery oyster, you excitedly nod when he makes his way over. Once you reach the surface again, you clap with delight. “Can you open it for me?”

He doesn’t answer, but rather focuses his attention on snapping it wide. You can feel your eyes shimmer at the sight, an electrifying pearly white. Almost greedily, you pinch it in between your fingers, bringing it up to parade. “That is absolutely stunning. Oh my God, do you think I could turn it into a ring?”

His lips curl. “I’d say so.”

After that, you both settle into a comfortable silence. The sun was blazing hot at this point, and still there was a breeze. Just when your face would start to dry up, you would dip back in and beam at the Monegasque. He grins, crinkles, hugging the corner of his eyes. He allows himself to swoon when you wink up at the rays of sunshine. “So, I was thinking…”

“Mhm,” you murmur, orbs trained on your newly prize possession.

Nerves fill the brunette’s veins, sharp hands gently massaging his jaw, letting out a shaky breath. You furrow your brows, cocking your head to the side. Is everything alright? Charles sheepishly smiles. “Well, I, uh, was wondering…” He trails off when your lips wobble, hinting that you knew what this was all leading up to. “Would you like to go out on a date? With me,” he adds shyly.

“You were kind enough to seek me a gem,” you hum. “I would love to, Charles.”

“Wonderful,” he sighs in relief. “I-I-I know we sort of skipped a couple steps a few days ago,” he stutters anxiously. Your cheeks burn up at the reminder of him in between your legs. “So— but—I’m definitely glad that we’re able to—ouch!” he yelps in pain, teeth gritting. You fill up with panic, frantically eyeing the clear water.

“What? What?” you urge. “It’s a shark, isn’t it? I knew they would find a way!” The 26 year old barely had a chance to fill you in on what was really going on, but couldn’t really do much when you zoom out, popping the pearl into your mouth safely, floppy arms threading fast to the point that they became sore.

“There’s no—oh my word.” He grimaces, a painful expression mapped out as he, too, follows you out as quickly as he can. As he limps over to you, you scream, shiny jewel falling straight onto the ground.

“Charles, Charles, Charles.” Your stomach drops, fingers jittery, “There’s a jellyfish wrapped around your ankle…”

“You’re all caught up,” he grunts. “Get it off!”

You squeal when he lifts his leg up at you. “I can’t! Can’t you kick it off or something?”

He clenches his jaw, heavy pants filling the air. “And risk getting stung again? No, thank you. I drive for a living! I need this thing off.” He flings his leg and the transparent sea-creature disconnects, landing straight into the water. He stares back astonished and you simply laugh loudly and maniacally. You did it! “Yes, now pee on it.”

“Oh—hell no. What is this? A kink of yours?” Your nose scrunches up with clear disgust, as if you just caught a whiff of a baby’s diaper. Charles scowls. It’s supposed to help—do you think I want to do this? You gag, adamantly shaking your head. “No, no, I’ve read about this! We can add vinegar!” Briskly grabbing your essentials, you grip his wrist, already dragging him to his car.

He tears up—though, denies it—almost kicks you, and groans like a baby, but survives his injury. “Better?” Barely. Washing your hands, you share a stern glare. “At home remedies. Godsend.” He sulks deeper into his seat, wet hair trapping his face. Once you dry your hands, you plop down next to him, pecking his lips. “Grump.”

A beady eye pops open before snapping back shut. “I’d like to see you get stung.” You gasp theatrically, playfully swatting his shoulder. He chuckles, hauling you atop of him. You almost giggle like a teen, but manage to tune it out. “How ‘bout our date?”

“How about you rest? Cha, we can go out tomorrow.”

His bright eyes dim. “But we only have a few days left…”

Your mood comes crashing down as well, downcast eyes flickering like fireflies. “Then I should get ready, no?” His lips turn upward. “Meet me by the door in fifteen.”

It’s a rush, digging through your suitcase, trying to find the perfect dress, the perfect flats. You lose a good chunk of hair as you comb through it, due to the salty water, but manage. You briskly fly through your makeup routine, slather your body with perfume and lotion, and dash back downstairs, finding him already standing there.

Charles was at edge up until that moment. His tenseness slips away as soon as he sees you, looking as beautiful as ever. There’s a harsh tan going on, but even that makes you all the more breathtaking. He’s not too bad himself and you know it when you blush. From his linen navy blue shirt to his denim jeans, you swoon.

“You smell like honey,” he stammers. “You look lovely.”

“Grazie.” A beat. “You got a few new ones.”

He’s generally a cool guy, but you always strike him with some type of new feeling. He burns up, softly grazing his nose where a few freckles pop up. “That always happens when I’m out in the sun for too long. Ready?” You purse your lips, skipping towards him.

When you were eight, you had your first date. You suppose that really depends on how you see it. You mother had tried to become friends with a few ladies from the local book club and you always found yourself tagging along. Obligated, more so. His name was Joey and he had two missing teeth, so every time he spoke, a lisp would come through. It made you giggle cutely as you would lick your melted ice cream off your forearm. Eventually, your mother felt the right to storm out, pulling you away, and you never saw or heard of him again.

At eighteen, you had your last. You should've known from his name alone. James. He was tall, blond, a complete know-it-all, but he had noticed you. The crush slowly died the moment his eyes trailed to the next pretty girl, and the next, and the next.

Now, you’re mid-twenties and this feels like the right choice. He isn’t missing a row of teeth, he buys you ice cream and never once rushes you, he’s tall and proud, and has a set of chocolate curls. Most importantly, he has eyes for you and only you. It was as sweet as it could get.

“Can I ask you something?” Charles raises a brow, humming along. Twirling your pasta against the metal fork, you prop your chin on your palm. “What were you doing that day at the beach? Where we first met.”

Crimson red slashes his already burnt face as he chokes on his wine. “I wouldn’t want to ruin your perspective over me.” He drums his long fingers. “I was taking a nap.”

“Oh, well, I know that, but you were basically a goner!” You teasingly whistled. “I’m a curious little monkey, so please, enlighten me.”

The Monegasque tsks, relaxing his wide shoulders. He circles the restaurant instantly before leaning in across the table. “That day I was feeling particularly stressed. I was dealing with a lot of things and I don’t remember much after that. Except when a friend gave me a so-called magic potion.” He takes a sip to fix his dry throat. “Oh it did wonders, I tell you.” Absolute wonders, he mouths.

Your eyes widen. “Like…drugs?” you hiss, bewildered at the possibility. He cringes and nods, floppy hair bouncing. Your mouth forms a silent O, then nibble on your bottom lip, letting go. “I didn’t take you for a—”

“Me either.” You hear the sound of plates crashing down as you flinch and you both turn your attention to the apologetic waiter. The older couple look pissed, bitterly curse out the poor man, and blink as if they weren’t the vulgar ones. Charles rolls his eyes, then sighs. “I don’t think I could ever understand people like that.”

“Ruthless?”

“Took the words right out of my mouth. It’s ugly. Makes them look so out of touch with reality, which I suppose is true.” Green eyes flicker to the waiter once again before getting up to help. Tonight is really only the first time he’s gone out without his supposed disguise, so it’s obviously made your stomach flip at the thought of someone recognizing him.

Which they do.

“Charles Leclerc?” The accent is thick—and clearly Italian—as they step closer, phone already whipping out. The brunette turns, a lopsided smile drawn. “Holy shit! It’s really you! Can I please have a picture?” After a few minutes of chatter, the Monegasque excuses himself from the group, looking a bit suffocated.

“Being tackled in public? That’s what stresses you out, right?” His breath gets caught in his throat, but doesn’t make a move to shut the claim down. He answers by turning his attention to his lap. You sigh. “What did you take and who gave it to you?”

“You probably don’t even know him—Daniel. He’s quite the man, knows lots of people, and thought it would help. It did. Coke. I-it was my first and only try, I promise.”

You release a further breath. “You’re old enough to know your wrongs from rights. I trust you.” He eases up. “Doesn't mean you should rely on that.”

Charles looks up with a frown. “I feel like a fucking scumbag. I mean, does it make me a bad person to dread meeting fans sometimes? They’re always supporting me—it’s the least I could do.”

“You’re only human, Cha. You have your good and bad days. They would understand.” He shrugs, smiles, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “Do you remember what you told me that day you cooked that godforsaken meal?”

He nips the air. “You said it was delicious!”

You snicker, glad to see his humor coming back. “I lied. No, but you told me I had to stop pleasing everyone around me. Focus on myself. You said that. And I advise you to do the same.”

He’s heard this countless times. With Charlotte, which he only tuned out angrily, blaming her for not understanding his duties. Carlos, narrating how he of all people should understand. Pierre, smacking his head before walking away, already annoyed that too many people had tried to help, how he got called out on repeat. But with you, he simply nodded, somewhat agreeing. Not completely, but enough. That itself was a lot when it came to him and his stubbornness. Something inside of him told him he would do whatever you asked him to. It was a scary—liberating—feeling.

The last time he felt this was with…

A wave of realization slithers across his features. Charlotte. That last person he felt this familiar feeling was for Charlotte. And even then, their relationship felt foolish compared to anything he’s ever felt for you. There were sparks flying when you fluttered your doe eyes back at him, when you called him out on anything he does with a witty sense of humor…

He’s been fucked ever since the tiny ballerina kissed the hot-headed Stormtrooper.

“My words of wisdom are pretty clever,” he voices, smirking. “You’re right. I should focus more on myself.” Pause. “Thank you. For everything. For taking the time to get to know me. Not many bother these days.”

You want to cry at the gratitude written all over his handsome face, the sound of his disbelief, like a kid who genuinely thought they’d be picked last for a game of tag.

“You're very important to me, Charles.” You gently take his large hand into your smaller one. He stiffens. “You won’t ever forget that, right?”

“Not even if I try, no.” Then he presses a warm kiss onto your skin, and you feel him smile against it. “Anything you say or do would take me forever to overlook, to erase.” More pressure expands through your already firm chest, ragged breaths. “Something tells you’re a once in a lifetime type of person. How could I ever let that slip away?”

You excuse yourself in a flash, tears threatening to spill after his touch felt words. Just when you thought you couldn’t feel more two-faced, he somehow squeezes your heart around his fist, and you deserve every ounce of shame, of guilt.

After a round of paper towels that you dab as harsh as soft Kleenex, you force a bright smile in the mirror, shooting a quick thumbs up and storming back out to your date.

The 26 year old was concerned about the hazy interaction, perturbed eyes blinking as you got up as if you had just seen the Devil himself, unbeknownst that you felt like one. He’s left anxiously waiting, tapping his shoes against the shiny tiles, leg bouncing up and down with anticipation. Cursing underneath his breath, he stands up and makes his way to the women's restroom. He receives a few baffled glances when he bolts down the hallway.

“Jesus Christ,” you yelp, finding Charles right in front of you when you swing the door open. His green eyes narrow like knives, carefully analyzing your pink nose, red rimmed eyes. “You scared me—”

“What did they say to you?”

You frown. “What are you talking about?”

His hands make their way up to cradle your face, thumbs grazing your temples. You raise a neat brow. “Did anyone follow you? See you? Were they rude? My fans aren’t normally like this, I promise they’re sweet, but if they did anything to you, I swear to God—”

Instantly shaking your head, you let out a nervous giggle. “No one said anything, don’t worry. I just really had to pee. Promise.”

This is what he was most afraid of when he first opened up to you, to go out in public. Charles was terrified at the image of your privacy being invaded, much like his. For hurtful words or actions to be aimed at you. And then you blink up at him with a sour expression because he knows you just cried, he obviously grew protective. Leaning down, he meekly kisses your forehead. “What’s wrong then? You hate me that much?” he jokes.

You bite back a smile. “Something like that. How about we go somewhere dear to us?”

Added to the torment of what you were feeling, you didn’t think things could get any worse—and yet.

Today. By today. Get it done.

Aghast, your delicate fingers come up to your berry lips, pinching at them nervously before biting down on your thumb, re-reading Eleanor’s message. Friday. You originally had until Friday. It’s only Wednesday. Sure, only a forty-eight hour difference, but still. You wanted to hold onto the most valuable time possible if you could. You try convincing her to change her mind, but it was a worthless battle. You knew once she had her mind set on it, then that’s exactly what had to happen.

By today.

You’re sobbing, panting, your vision is blurry as you type on your phone, angry as you fiddle against the tiny screen. Who could you really be mad at? Eleanor? No. Charles? No. The universe? Tempting, but no. It was all you. If you hadn’t mentioned having a possible exclusive for the sake of saving your job, then you wouldn’t be tangled in this mess.

You can’t go down that way, it’s ladies only!

I’m terribly sorry, but I have to check on my wife.

You recognize his urgent voice, deep and raw. His words aren’t true, but it fucks you up just the same. Hurrying to slip your phone back inside your purse, you quickly fix your appearance before opening the wide door, finding Charles mid-knock.

“Jesus Christ. You scared me.”

“Back where we started,” the green eyed boy chirps when he spots the tiny pub that sits atop of the hill. “It feels as if we were just here yesterday. This is fantastic.”

“I didn’t think you loved it that much,” you poke fun, bumping your hip against his. His watercolor eyes flicker to yours for a brief moment, then focusing back at the old shed.

“Things can surely change in the span of a month.”

The implication was as clear as daylight, but it only flew past your head as you enthusiastically ran up, smiling back at him. Nico is still there, serving drinks with a cheshire grin, when he spots you. “I remember you! How have you been, cara mia? Is Italy treating you well enough?”

You buzz, tippy toeing as you sheepishly try to spot the main reason you came back. “Oh, definitely. I think I might stay. Do you, um, happen to have—”

“Got it right here,” he says, gloved hand wrapping around the familiar liquid. You blush, ordering a round—bottle—and making your way back to the Monegasque. As soon as the tray hits your table, he throws a dubious stare, thanking the older man. “Huge fan, Mr. Leclerc.” He extends his Ferrari merch with a timid grin. “Do you mind?”

Charles returns the warm smile. “Not at all.” He signs away sloppily, but professionally. Nico zooms cheerfully, eager to boast out to his co-workers. You giggle. Very nice, very nice. He shrugs nonchalantly. “Does my kind gesture get me a kiss?”

“We’ll see,” you mumble, looking away before he spots your pink cheeks.

He sighs dramatically. “Do you really think it’s for the best if you drink this crap again? Do you remember the last time you had a sip?”

“I’ll go easy. This shit is good.” Throwing your head back, you gulp down the sweet alcoholic drink, eyes squeezing tightly before you huff. “Exactly. Try some.” The brunette does, but steady, a careful eye always lingering onto you. You don’t get drunk this time—rather tipsy. You tell yourself it's because you don’t want to wake up with a killer headache tomorrow, but you know that’s far from the truth. It’s simple. You just didn’t want to forget the last moments you had with him.

His adoration would only last so long.

Clicking your phone open, you clumsily had it over to him. Record me. He huffs, but amusement colors his orbs. “Here we go again…” You snicker playfully, marching over to the lady at the piano. You’re back, she pronounces.

“I am.” You laugh. “Do you happen to play guitar?”

She shakes her head sadly before lighting up. “But Nico does. Nico!” she screams as the man rushes over. “You play song for pretty girl standing right here?” Volentieri, he chirps, looking for his rusty instrument. After a bit of discussion, you twirl back, walking to the center stage.

“I can still recall, our last summer. I still see it all.” Charles laughs, throwing his head back like a little kid as he reminds himself to keep your phone steady. “Walks along the Seine, laughing in the rain. Our last summer, memories that remain.”

The guitar is a lone act, but fills up the room as if there were a band. Occasionally, the keys of the broken piano fill the room as you smile gently. From the way you dance to the way you smile, Charles lives for every moment, taking in your happiness.

You should have seen the foreshadowing. The song. The plates that crashed during dinner. The stare. It was all laying right out in front of you, and you stupidly chose to ignore it until it was too late.

“Our last summer, walking hand in hand…” You trail off the moment his eyes turn dark, furrowing to the screen then back to you, as if trying to come up with a possible explanation. He stands up abruptly, chair squeaking so loud that everyone’s heads turn to look. “No,” you whisper in disbelief when he walks out, leaving you like an open love letter.

“No, no, no, no, no.” Flying down the stairs, you trip a couple of times, concerned glances shared between Nico and the older lady. None of it matters as you run after Charles.

Anger must give you wings because he’s long gone when you reach the open air. Dirt crunches underneath your heels as you desperately try to catch a sign that he’s around. When he’s not, you instantly call a cab, rudely directing him to your shared Airbnb.

He loves you; he's sure of it the moment you tuck a strand of hair behind your jeweled ear, slightly hesitant as you try to refresh Nico’s mind over what song you wanted. He even practices a few strings before winking over at you.

He knows it the moment you reach a certain note that makes your voice crack, smiling shyly, giggling through your singing.

And you loved him all too late.

Draft is perfect. Green light, publish it. We can talk about your promotion when you get back. Congratulations. Hard work really does pay off.

He recognizes the name as soon as it blares across your screen, still recording you, spinning across the stage without a care in the world. He feels inanely invasive when he clicks on the email, but pushes the feeling away with the fact that this appeared to be good news, and was there really any harm to that?

Charles Leclerc: The Man Behind the Helmet.

He reads through, spotting your name swiftly.

Sat down with him…

High on the beach—a desperate tactic to release some much needed stress during the off season…

Golden pin, prancing horse. Gifted from the late, Hervé Leclerc…

Fearful of what’s to come once Hamilton enters the picture later in 2025…

He’s skimming but it’s enough for him to wonder if he’s experiencing true headache right now. Your voice cuts off, turning pale as you blink back at him. Fury enters his veins as he storms out, not caring about what you must think. He hears you chasing after him, but manages to climb into the first cab he sees.

What he hates the most is that he still feels like a complete idiot for leaving you behind. For marching out without a single word.

For being so stupid.

taglist: @blueflorals @starmanv @coolio2195 @lovrsm @weekendlusting@chanshintien @brune77e @myownwritings @timmychalametsstuff @milasexutoire @alesainz @c-losur3 @darleneslane @togazzo @urfavnoirette @namgification @lpab @d3kstar

295 notes · View notes

rosieethor · 3 months

Text

Aromantic Books Let's Go!

Dread Nation by Justina Ireland

The Reckless Kind by Carly Heath

Black Wings Beating by Alex London

This Dark Descent by Kalyn Josephson

The Siren, the Song, and the Spy by Maggie Tokuda-Hall

Fire Becomes Her by Rosiee Thor

Not Even Bones by Rebecca Schaeffer

This Golden Flame by Emily Victoria

Immoral Code by Lillian Clark

Tarnished are the Stars by Rosiee Thor

The Last 8 by Laura Pohl

Hullmetal Girls by Emily Skrutskie

Summer Bird Blue by Akemi Dawn Bowman

Loveless by Alice Oseman

Take Me To Your Nerdy Leader by Hailey Gonzales

Being Ace edited by Madeline Dyer

Queerly Loving edited by G Benson and Astrid Ohletz

Common Bonds edited by Claudie Arseneault, C T Callahan, and RoAnna Sylver

Beneath the Citadel by Destiny Soria

Godly Heathens by H. E. Edgmon

The Grimrose Girls by Laura Pohl

The Butterfly Assassin by Finn Longman

At the End of Everything by Marieke Nijkamp

Switchback by Danika Stone

Tell Me How It Ends by Quinton Li

Awakenings by Claudie Arsenault

Stake Sauce by RoAnna Sylver

The Ice Princess's Fair Illusion by Dove Cooper

The Threads That Bind by Cedar McCloud

Not Your backup by C. B. lee

Fallen Thorns by Harvey Oliver Baxter

Natural Outlaws and Fractured Sovereignty by S. M. Pearce

Wander the Night by Sydney Cobb

Stones Stay Silent by Danny Ride

The Story of the Hundred Promises by Neil Cochrane

Two Dark Moons by Avi Silver

The Bruising of Qilwa by Naseem Jamnia

An Accident of Stars by Foz Meadows

Firebreak by Nicole Kornher-Stace

Archivist Wasp by Nicole Kornher-Stace

Kaikeyi by Vaishnavi Patel

Syncopation by Anna Zabo

Dear Wendy by Ann Zhao

The Loudest Silence by Sydney Langford

Lord of the Empty Isles by Jules Arbeaux

Our Deadly Designs by Kalyn Josephson

The Final Curse of Ophelia Cray by Christine Calella

#aromantic #aromantic spectrum #aroace #aromantic awareness week #aromantic books #aroacebooks #queer books #lgbtqia books

219 notes · View notes

vntagetee-archive · 1 year

Text

╭ tag dump ⸻ dawn summers.

#╭ dossier. dawn summers #╭ ic thread. dawn summers #╭ musing. dawn summers #╭ aesthetic. dawn summers #╭ skill. dawn summers #╭ desires. dawn summers #╭ answered. dawn summers #╭ starter. dawn summers #╭ info. dawn summers #╭ edit. dawn summers #╭ verse. dawn summers ⸻ main.

0 notes

l0vergirlwrites · 2 months

Text

peach ; steve harrington

synopsis: what a typical spring morning at steve’s house looks like

warnings: mentions of partial nudity

note: the coachella fomo is so real rn (wrote this while listening to peach by kevin abstract!)

it’s mid april & the sun has started to come out more in hawkins.

trees are beginning to bud, the grass is somehow growing greener than last spring, & the air reeks of summer feels. with winter disappearing into the back of your minds, hawkins was beginning to bloom again—literally & figuratively.

college was finally done (that is, until september), meaning that you were home (aka spending practically everyday at steve’s place).

with you back home, steve was taking advantage of every moment you two of you shared. whether it was a movie night on his couch with the snacks you both loved, helping him clean up the backyard to prepare for opening the pool, cooking dinner together with his radio on your favourite station—you being by his side for more than three days at time made him feel whole again.

after a night of hosting the gang over for board games & an impromptu “welcome home” party for you, to say you & steve were exhausted was an understatement. the living room still had dice & board game pieces on the carpet, empty cups & plates were stacked by the sink to be washed, the garbage needed to be taken out—but all of that was in the back of your mind as you both laid in bed.

steve had recently done up his room since the last time you had stayed over too which was a nice change. the wallpaper he had from high school was replaced with cream white paint. he upgraded his bedframe to one that didn’t creak as much as the old one, got muted blue curtains, a brand new bookshelf (filled with books you & robin had recommended him) & added more posters of his favourite movies & bands to his walls.

his room screamed steve, especially the new version of himself because he’s so much different from his high school self.

his bedside table was probably your favourite addition to his room though.

it had a framed polaroid picture of the two of you that was taken the previous summer at a beach out of town. steve’s arms were wrapped around your chest & waist, wrists dawning a few threaded bracelets you had made while his head rested against yours. you held his cheek with red nail polished nails as his sunglasses rested on top of your beach dried hair.

you both were smiling like love sick idiots with your feet in the sand & a pink kiss stain on his temple.

it was one of steve’s favourite photos of you in the world. so, it was common sense he’d have it on his bedside table as a little reminder of you. & the thought of him going to the store to buy a frame so he could have it on his bedside made you tear up as you woke up, eyes locking on the photo first thing.

the clock on the table read 10:37am, causing you to stretch your limbs & roll over to see steve still sleeping peacefully.

“love you” you mumbled quietly before pressing a feather light kiss to his forehead before getting out of bed with a dire need to shower. as you tiptoed around the room, you couldn’t help but bite your lip & silently laugh at how he had managed to toss your underwear directly onto a lamp in his room last night when he really welcomed you home.

you made a mental note to bring it up to him later.

grabbing a towel & some extra body wash from the hallway cupboard, you made your way to the bathroom to turn on the warm water. when you returned to steve’s room with undergarments on, wet hair, & a few water droplets on your skin, steve felt like he was waking up in heaven.

“morning babydoll” he rasped as he sat up in bed, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes with a smile.

“morning baby” you replied with a brightly, going into his walk in closet to quickly change before joining him in bed again.

his hands immediately grabbed your thighs, gently pulling you closer to his lap with a smile once you were close enough while your hands raked up his shirtless chest. “mhmmm, you smell good” he hummed with a kiss to your cheek, relishing in how it immediately warmed at his touch.

“you can thank your body wash for that” you chided, running your hands through his bedhead while his inched up to play with the hem of your shirt.

“did you sleep good?” you asked, mumbling a “good” when he nodded, fingers tapping into your skin.

“what ‘bout you? i know you were tired from last nights… activities” he smirked suggestively, biting his lip when you shook & rolled your head back. “shut up, harrington”

“you know how to�� he stated with that grin of his you couldn’t help from making butterflies erupt in your stomach.

nudging his head closer to yours, you dipped down to meet his lips in a gentle kiss, one that left him mumbling your name when you pulled away.

“you got a lot of whit this morning” you commented with a head tilt, letting steve pepper a few kisses to your cheek & jawline before answering. “you bring it out in me, honey”

“oh, is that right?”

“i wouldn’t lie to you”

“i’ll believe that”

with a chuckle escaping his lips, steve ducked his head into the crook of your neck, shutting his eyes to relish in the moment. “i missed this” he said with a sigh, humming when you fingers ran through his hair again.

“me too, stevie, me too” you replied, resting your cheek on his head when he pulled you even closer.

he focussed on your heartbeat bumping in his ears while you focussed on his fingers rubbing your back in the way you liked.

“i missed having breakfast with you too” you mumbled, chasing steve to let out a laugh. “you want me to make you something, pretty girl? is that it?”

shrugging your shoulders when he pulled back to look at you, you tired hiding your smile. “i dunno, only if you want. i’ll make you coffee—“, kissing you before you could finish your sentence, steve’s hands cupped your cheeks lovingly.

“we got a deal” he mumbled gained your lips before kissing you again, smiling into it when you fell on your side, pulling steve down with you happily.

#l0vergirlwrites💌#steve harrington oneshot #steve harrington #steve harrington blurb #steve harrington imagine #steve stranger things #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington is a sweetheart #stranger things fanfic #stranger things #joe kerry x reader #joe kerry imagine #joe kerry #joe keery djo #djo #fanfic

123 notes · View notes

thewulf · 4 months

Text

Treat You Better || Steve Harrington

Summary: Request - Steve Harrington x Reader based on Treat You Better by Shawn Mendes😩 I used to LOVE that song when i was younger, and now it just reminds me of my boy stevee💙

A/N: Loved writing these even though men suck (sometimes!!). Thank you for the request @marennnx. This is a 3x1 - or the three times your boyfriend treated you like crap and the one time he did something about it!

Pairing: Steve Harrington x Female Reader

Word Count: 3.7k +

T/W: Dismissive boyfriend, absent boyfriend, gaslighting

Steve Harrington had been a constant in your life as you grew up in the small town of Hawkins. You’d moved in next to the Harrington’s when you were just six and became fast friends with the neighbor boy, Steve. The two of you became fast friends as there was no other six- or seven-years old’s in the neighborhood close to you. You’d quite literally been there for each and every single first for the other. You’d learned and grew through life with Steve right by your side.

For the first time in your lives things got a little strained when he started dating Nancy. Not that you didn’t like her, she was lovely. It’s that Steve did that stereotypical thing and kind of forgot about you for a while. Tired of being bored around your house you too started going out and doing things with your other friends. It was fun, you enjoyed yourself. You still wished you were doing it all with Steve though.

Then you met Derek. You’d seen him around Hawkins High but never actually met. Not until the summer Steve had ditched you. That was almost a year ago now. Steve and Nancy had long since broken up. You and Derek were still hanging on, albeit by a thread, as all of you were heading into your junior year. It dawned on you that you were going to have to start looking at school soon if you really wanted to get the hell out of Hawkins like you and Steve always talked about.

Things never really got back to normal between you and Steve after it was all settled. The two of you talked and hung out more but you attention usually went towards trying to save the failing relationship between you and Derek. You were truly miserable, but you didn’t let a soul know, not even you mom who you usually told everything. It was almost embarrassing admitting it at this point with how much you’d been faking your happiness. Derek also didn’t like you hanging around with Steve. He was jealous of course so you tried to keep it to a minimum or as hush hush as you could.

That was how you got to the semi-awkward place between you and your best friend. The two of you stealing longing glances but neither having the courage to broach the growing tension between the two of you.

The Bonfire

It was the Friday before school started the next Monday. You’d arrived with Derek, pulling him along to find some seats. It was the annual class tradition since you’d been in eighth grade to have a class wide bonfire before school actually began again. You, of course, had to drag your reluctant boyfriend along with you to the event. That should’ve given you the wherewithal to understand where his attitude would be for the night.

But you ignored it as best as you could. Press on and have fun. Don’t let the stupid boy ruin your fun night. You knew you were pushing it when you found some seats next to Steve. When you stopped in front of him your boyfriend groaned in annoyance. Ignoring him you turned to Steve, “These seats taken?”

He shook his head quickly with a small smile on his face. It wasn’t usual for you to come around let alone with your shit head of a boyfriend in tow. He was missing you more than you even knew. He knew he messed up by nearly dropping you for Nancy completely a year ago. This was his karma, and he was taking it.

He shook his head, “Nope.”

“Come on babe, let’s go get some drinks.” He tried tugging at your hand this time, but you just shook your head instead.

“I’m going to stay here and catch up with Steve. I’ll take a drink though when you make it back over.” You gave him a sweet smile though you knew it was no use. He was already pissed, and you surely pissed him off even further by not doing what he wanted. Steve just looked between the two of you before he grumbled something incoherent and walked off.

“He’s a real charmer, that one is.” Steve knew he probably shouldn’t have said that, but he was growing tired of your boyfriends attitude. He didn’t understand how you could put up with it. You were such a light, happy

You gave your friend a soft smile, “He just didn’t feel like coming out tonight. Cut him some slack.” You knew Steve was at his wits end with him. Your family was too. Nobody seemed to like him but you. And you didn’t even really like him all that well. The solution seemed all too clear, but you still didn’t want to give it up just yet. Derek was your first real relationship. The first guy you said ‘I love you’ too even if he wasn’t the first guy you loved.

“You cut him a lot of that, Y/N.” He spoke freely seeing that Derek was still far away at the drinks table. Even though you asked for a drink you had a feeling he wouldn’t make you one. He’d forget or just not do it as some sort of punishment. That wasn’t love. That was manipulation. You felt that all too familiar sinking feeling growing in your stomach as you thought about your situation.

You looked down feeling the weight of his eyes on you, “I know.

He waited a moment seeing the despondent look on your face, “Hey,” He waited to continue until you looked back up to him. When you finally found the courage he continued, “You just deserve so much more than that. Somebody who wants to be with you…”

You shook your head stopping him, “That person doesn’t exist here. So, I’ll just enjoy what I can. Alright?” Your voice snapped at his ever so slightly telling him you were done talking about it.

He knew he shouldn’t have pressed, but you were his very best friend. He cared for you. Wanted the best for you. Loved you so dearly. He hated to see you treated less than how you deserved, “That’s just not true Y/N.”

“Steve.” Your eyes told him to drop it. There was a reason you didn’t tell or show your friends or family about that side of him. It made it pretty obvious how shitty he actually was.

He gave you a quick nod before leaning back in his seat, “Just think about it. Please?” There was a pleading look in his eyes that made you nod in agreement.

“Yeah, I will.”

He stood up from his seat seeing your boyfriend walk back without a drink for you, “I’ll see you around. Remember what I said.” He gave your boyfriend a sharp look before heading to the drink table deciding to get you a drink since your boyfriend had no interest. Steve decided he would show you that somebody did in fact want to treat you right.

The Football Game

You’d messed up and forgot to swap your light jacket for your heavier coat before heading out for the game. It was fine at first, but the temperature was dropping quick. As soon as the sun set behind the bleachers and the Hawking High football game started you began shivering. You tried cozying up to your boyfriend who was none the wiser of your chilly predicament. But he just shrugged you off.

“Babe.” You whined feeling another shiver ripple down your spine. It was getting cold, cold and you were not prepared.

“Shh, Y/N. I told you not to interrupt when they’re playing. I’ve got to watch Josh.” He grumbled pushing you off him. His brother, Josh, was the star wide receiver of the team and he had to watch everything live to report back to his brother. It made you roll your eyes week in and week out. Derek wasn’t good enough to play varsity, but his older brother was. You’d found it a little weird how much he lived through his older brother when it came to football.

Your mouth clamored back and forth, “But I’m cold Der.” It came out whinier than you intended which surely irritated the man further. How dare you inconvenience him when he needed to pay attention.

He sighed, “I told you to put a coat on. Go get a hot chocolate or something.” He didn’t take his eyes off the game and his voice was audibly annoyed with your presence.

“Whatever.” You rolled your eyes in return before heading off to the concession stands. Walking was good. It got your blood flowing. You needed to move to warm up anyway. It’s not like Derek would even throw and arm around you to warm you up.

You were so focused on walking to get your blood flowing you hadn’t even seen that you zoomed right past Steve who decided to follow you out of curiosity. When he saw you shivering and rubbing your hands back and forth to get some heat to them he had enough, “What are you doing out here in just a jacket?” He shrugged off his overly warm coat and handed it to you.

You shook your head in a hurry, “You’ll get cold Steve.”

“I’m fine. You’re not. Take the damn coat.” He shoved it further into your hands not giving you another chance to argue. When you slipped it on the audible sigh that left your mouth made him crack a small smile even though he was awfully worried about you being out in nearly freezing temperatures with a jacket made for the fall.

“Thank you.” You nodded up to him, “I forgot my coat. Derek told me to get a hot chocolate to warm up.” You laughed it off knowing how bad it sounded. Because it was bad. He was terrible. Derek might not have even liked you. Why were you even with him at this point?

Steve’s smile downturned at your comment. He’d made it quite evident how much he didn’t enjoy your boyfriend or his presence, “Some boyfriend he is.” He grumbled knowing it was likely going to set you off. You’d been more than defensive about your relationship. You’d always been like this, but it broke him seeing you so seemingly stuck in a loop. You wanted everything to look perfect, but it wasn’t. But you couldn’t admit it because then you’d have to admit it wasn’t perfect. A loop that he couldn’t pull you out of.

“Steve.” You sighed but knew it was a lost cause, especially because you were wrapped up in his coat. You couldn’t really defend the guy that much anymore. It felt so insulting because the entire relationship seemingly fell apart so quickly, right under your nose. Things were fun in the beginning. The two of you got along well and laughed at a lot of different things. But then it turned sour a few months ago, right after Nancy and Steve broke up. It’s not like anything changed for you. But apparently it did for him. It’s like he was pushing you right into Steve’s arms and you were pretty sure you’d be just fine with that.

He put his hands up in defense, “You know what I’m going to tell you.”

You sighed, “I know. I’m thinking about it. I promise.”

He nodded, “Keep the coat tonight. Drop it off whenever. Take care of yourself okay? Anytime you want to talk I’m all ears. I miss you.”

The floor was suddenly far more interesting than his face. You felt bad that you had in fact been avoiding him like he had you early on in his relationship, “Yeah, I miss you too. I’ll stop by more often. Promise.”

He grinned seeing you look back up to him, “That’s two promises I’m going to hold you too.”

You laughed for the first time that night. Curious it came at the mouth of Steve rather than your boyfriend. Your heart tugged as the two of you joked around like old times without your know-it-all boyfriend there to ruin the moment. You knew the relationship with Derek was doomed when you wanted to follow Steve back to his seat rather than head back to your boyfriend. But you had appearances to keep up. So back to Derek you walked.

Biology Class

“Alright class settle down. Today is the day you’ve all been waiting for. We’ll be dissecting pig hearts!” Your overenthusiastic Biology teacher stood in front of the curious junior class who had a big mix of emotions. Some were thrilled, that was Derek sitting next to you and Steve a row in front of you with his lab partner. Some were not so thrilled, you.

When the teacher set the heart down in front of you, you let out a big breath moving your chair away. Derek just started laughing like a little kid seeing your reaction to the dead pigs heart in front of you. Shooting him daggers you simply covered your mouth and nose with your hand trying your best not to throw up all over the desk in front of you.

When Derek started cutting you thought you might actually puke. The smell alone was starting to send you over the edge, “I don’t think I can do this.” You mumbled scooting even further away. Taking a quick peak around the room you were surprised almost everyone seemed just fine. Seemingly you only had the weak stomach in this class. You didn’t notice Steve’s eyes watching you with caution. He knew you well and knew this would be a unique kind of challenge for you.

“Ahh, grow up would you Y/N?” Derek rolled his eyes before returning to cut away, “Just plug your nose up if it’s that big of a deal.”

You huffed in annoyance at his complete lack of care, “I’m already doing that Derek.” It was sharper than you intended which of course set him off.

“You’re being a baby about it. Grow up.” He snapped back full out ignoring the look on your face. It was becoming harder and harder to fake your happiness. Especially when he treated you like you were nothing but a nuisance to him. Did he even like you? Why did he want to spend time with you if all he did was get annoyed with you? When was the last time you’d genuinely been happy with him? It’d been months. Months since the last time you giggled with him or smiled from a conversation.

You stood from you seat, “I’m getting some air.”

He just continued on, “Suit yourself.”

You stood quickly before letting the teacher know you needed to get some water. You walked to the water fountain down the hall trying your best not to break down right then and there. How did all this happen? How could you have let it all happen so quickly? When did he start to dip out on the relationship? Why wouldn’t he just breakup with you if he was this unhappy?

“Hey,” Steve’s sweet voice pulled you back into the present, “You okay?”

You nodded quickly trying your best to come off as cool as possible, “Yeah, was thirsty.”

He smiled, “It’s just me. You don’t have to lie.”

A frown formed from that. It was just Steve. Why did this all feel so weird and awkward and so far out of your control all the sudden? All you wanted to do was scream and beat on the wall in frustration of how you felt at the state of your life. But you knew better than that. Especially at school.

“I couldn’t take the smell.” You admitted to the boy who cared more to check up on you than the one who supposedly loved you sitting in the classroom. The more you thought of it the more Steve seemed to be the one who cared for you. And you knew he did. But with all that he had done for you and the lack thereof what Derek had made you realize how backwards it all was. You were meant to be with Steve not Derek. Steve cared. Steve loved you. Steve wanted you and put in the effort to be with you. And for some reason you still called Derek your boyfriend.

He grinned, “I knew it. I thought you looked squirrely in there.”

“You were watching?” You asked curiously.

“I’m always watching you.” His grin dropped as he realized how creepy that had sounded, “In a not weird way I promise!”

You laughed at his attempted recovery, “Thanks for checking in Steve.”

“I’m just keeping true to my promises. Speaking of which. How are yours coming along?” His smile grew into a smirk as he knew you were stalling. But that was his job as your best friend to keep pushing. That and he loved you. So, he’d decided it was his time to be selfish. He knew he could treat you better. So much better than that shit head you called a boyfriend.

“I’ve thought about what you said.”

You answer surprised him, “You have? And?”

“You’ll see. Soon.” You gave him a quick nod and smile before leading the two of you back to class. As much as Steve wanted to decipher that with you he knew better than to push too hard. That was more than you’d ever given him, so he was rolling with it for now.

After School The Next Day

You sat down on the bench in front of the High School in utter defeat. He had forgotten you. This truly was the last straw. Derek had promised he’d take you home knowing your car was in the shop this week and he forgot you. Steve was right. He didn’t give a rats ass about you. He only cared about himself. He only cared about you when it was convenient for himself. How had things unraveled so quickly? You couldn’t keep up this charade anymore. Not when he was up and leaving you places now.

When you heard the soft honk of the car in front of you your heart dropped seeing Steve’s car idling there. Fuck. Why him? He’d seen first-hand how shitty Derek had been treating you these last few weeks and this might actually set him off. Slowly, you walked over to his car. You slid into the front seat not daring to look at him. You just knew he was giving you that disappointed Steve look that only came to his face when Derek did something that should have been a red flag for you.

“You alright?” He asked after a moment of silence.

Closing your eyes you leaned back into the seat, “You’re right.”

“What about?” Steve asked as he pulled out of the school parking lot.

“About Derek. The whole thing. I deserve more.” A tear slipped out as you said it out loud for the first time. Sure, you’d thought about it in your head, but it was different spoken out and for Steve to hang onto.

He pulled over onto the side of the road, “Hey, it’s okay. I’m so glad you’ve realized it. He hadn’t been treating you well.” Steve hesitantly reached out and brushed away the stray tear which brought on an entirely new set of waterworks from his lighter than a feather touch.

He let you cry it out in the passenger’s seat of his car not uttering a word until he thought you could actually hear him, “I’m here for you. It’s okay. You’re okay.” He didn’t know his words only made you cry even further for you were mourning a relationship you never had. One where you thought you were in love, but it was just stupid teenage hormones. The one you loved was sitting right here comforting you beyond your wildest imagination.

You hiccupped after a moment of you unexpected breakdown. A wave of embarrassment washed over you as you realized how you had quite literally cried like a baby in front of Steve, “I’m so sorry Stevie.” You whispered breaking out the nickname only he let you use.

“Don’t apologize sweetheart.” He’d never called you that before. Shoot, he’d never really looked at you like this before. He looked at you like how you felt about him. Like he loved you.

“I didn’t mean too… I didn’t…”

He shook his head before pushing up the arm rest separating the two of you. He maneuvered his legs so you could slide over, “Shh, come here. It’s okay. I promise you that. I don’t break my promises, remember?”

You nodded before launching yourself into your best friend arms. You let him wrap you right on up as the car idled with the two of you suctioned together. He squeezed as he held you letting you know that he had no plans or intentions of letting you walk away again.

“Y/N?” He asked after minutes of the two of you just wrapped in the others embrace.

“Yeah?”

He took another second before letting out a long breath, “You remember how I said that somebody wants to treat you better? Somebody out there wants to be that person for you?” He asked with an unusual shakiness in his voice. Uncommon for the usually so confident Steve Harrington.

You hummed just enjoying being wrapped up in his arms. This didn’t happen that often anymore no matter how much you wanted to. You were with Derek. You couldn’t do that. But now? All bets were off, “Yeah, thank you for that.”

He nodded, “I can be that person. I can treat you better. If you’d let me that is.”

You sucked in a breath at his words, “You can?” Was this really happening?

“I can.”

You turned your eyes up to his with a bigger than life smile, “Okay.”

His scared eyes turned hopeful at the simplest of statements, “Okay?”

A quick nod before you turned your head into his chest, “Let’s do it. I love you already so?”

“You do?” His hopeful eyes turned from that of hope to shock right back to those lovey dovey ones he had on you days prior.

“I do.” You grinned feeling better than you had in a long time admitting that to him so freely. It shouldn’t be hard. This was about to be the best thing that you could’ve done for yourself. Who would’ve thought two crappy relationships was all the two of you needed to finally open your eyes to what was right in front of you.

Permanent Taglist ((If you'd like to be added to any or all works please fill out the form here: Taglist Sign Up): @loving-and-dreaming @kmc1989 @memeorydotcom @matisse556 @buckylov3r @taygrls @ah-blossom @hardballoonlove @rosiahills22 @djs8891 @guacam011y @illisea

144 notes · View notes

itsswritten · 2 months

Text

when the sea calls for three | 2

Pairings: Azriel x Reader x Eris

Words: 5.1K

<<Previous Part | Masterlist | Summary

Summer Court

As the gentle sea breeze caressed your face, the soothing sound of waves crashing against the shore enveloped your senses. With eyes closed, you allowed yourself to be immersed in the tranquillity of the ocean, feeling a sense of home wash over you.

You missed the ocean, Dawn’s cities weren’t on the coast. Mainly inland, with dense red roofed buildings. Often you would take trips to visit the shoreline, get closer to that salty air that spoke sweet whispers to you. You wondered why your family hadn’t chosen Summer over Dawn, given your heritage. No, instead your family had settled hundreds of years ago within the walls of Dawn. Still, a beautiful choice.

Suddenly, a presence appeared beside you, you could sense and smell him without needing to open your eyes. Perhaps it was the way he smelt of the ocean too that made him so familiar. Tarquin stood beside you, his figure outlined against the backdrop of the sparkling sea. His dark skin seemed to glow in the sunlight, and his hair, a striking silver-white, caught the light as it cascaded around his shoulders.

"I thought I could sense it, you are a child of the sea," Tarquin remarked, a warm smile gracing his features as he finally acknowledged something he had sensed in your earlier meeting.

"That is somewhat true," you mused, gaze still fixed on the vast expanse of ocean before you. Your kinship with the sea was a connection that ran deep.

"It explains why I felt so comfortable around you," Tarquin continued, his smile widening as he spoke. You knew of his abilities, his affinity for water manipulation.

“Like calls to like” You smiled softly.

You liked the Summer Court. You had made that assumption when you first met Tarquin, and it rang true during your first visit. Adriata exuded a serene beauty, even in the aftermath of conflict. The azure rooftops contrasted elegantly against the pristine white stone, glistening like pearls under the sun's warm embrace.The air was fresh with the lick of the ocean, and its residents were all sun kissed by that glorious beacon in the sky.

Eager to immerse yourself fully in the Summer Court ambiance, you had opted for a slight change of attire, trading your previous garments from the Court meeting for something light, airy, typical of the Summer Court. Your tunic which had been adorned with threaded court symbols was now replaced with a white shirt that still held the motifs on the fabric. Flowing white trousers gracefully pooled around your feet, allowing the gentle sea breeze to caress your skin, providing a welcome respite from the sun's rays.

Tarquin had graciously arranged for your accommodation within the palace, situating your quarters conveniently close to Cressida, with whom you had been working closely with during your brief stay. Together with Tarquin and the royal siblings, you convened in a secluded office to address the concerns voiced by the Summer Court's inhabitants.

The submitted requests predominantly revolved around the loss of homes, the devastation caused by the war, and the collective hope for recovery and resilience. Pooling your collective knowledge and resources, the four of you meticulously strategize the most effective measures to support and uplift the people of the Summer.

However, you understood that true healing would require patience and perseverance. Perhaps what the people of Prythian needed most was to feel heard and understood on a larger scale, with you and Lucien as their appointed emissaries serving as their advocates.

Spending the majority of the second day immersing yourself in the community of Adriata, you couldn't ignore the overall feeling of sadness. The lingering scars of war still cast a shadow over the court, underscoring the urgent need to rebuild and restore a sense of security and happiness among its residents.

Despite their resilience, Adriata seemed to have borne the brunt of the conflict, second perhaps only to the turmoil in Tamlin's court. You were determined to offer whatever assistance you could, recognising the challenges they faced in comparison to other courts.

Your efforts to connect with the townspeople were met with initial hesitation, yet you sensed a glimmer of kinship, perhaps they could tell you were one of the same like Tarquin recognised. It only took a few hours before you had residents crying on your shoulder and children running around your feet, tugging you left and right begging for you to prioritise rebuilding a park that had been destroyed.

The weight of your role as emissary of peace became increasingly apparent. You weren’t just an Emissary of peace, but you were the emissary of the people– something that felt heavier in weight. A weight you were happy to shoulder.

You could feel it in your chest, that pride that seemed to swell at your newfound duty. Realising how you could make an impact.

And so you promised to yourself, and silently towards the vast ocean that you would always listen to those who sought out your help.

"Your people seem somewhat deflated," you observed, your voice carrying a touch of empathy as you turned your gaze back to Tarquin. "Your court, your palace, your people... they've endured so much loss."

Tarquin nodded solemnly, "Yes, the scars of war run deep," he agreed, his eyes scanning the horizon as if searching for hope. "But we are resilient, and with the support of the likes of you, I believe we can rebuild and thrive once more."

You offered him a reassuring smile, your confidence bolstered. "It's a priority to restore not just the physical aspects of your court, but also the spirit of your people," you affirmed, your voice brimming with conviction. "To ensure they not only feel safe but also find happiness in their home once again."

You understood the importance of nurturing the well-being of those under your care, of bringing light to the darkest corners and hope to weary hearts. "...With our collective efforts, I have no doubt that we can return Summer to all its glory," you declared, your words infused with determination.

You couldn’t help the smile that stretched across your lips. Every word you spoke you truly believed.

Tarquin's gaze softened as he met your eyes, a flicker of admiration dancing in his gaze. "Your optimism is contagious," he remarked, a hint of appreciation colouring his tone. "It's refreshing to have someone like you by my side, someone who sees the potential for greatness even in our darkest moments."

“A flame will always appear brighter in the shadows…” you mused.

With that, the two of you exchanged a meaningful look, a silent vow passing between you.

༄

Night Court

You arrived at River House promptly, noting the late morning meeting time with an understanding that it was typical for the Night Court. Unlike the bustling activity you were accustomed to at Dawn, Velaris seemed eerily quiet during those early hours. You had always risen with the sun, risen at dawn. It seemed your body clock may have to change during your visits here. As you prowled through the streets, hoping to connect with some of its residents, you found them few and far between. A handful of market owners setting up stalls offered brief introductions, but for the most part, the city felt deserted, as if it were a ghost town.

Welcomed into the grand foyer by a member of staff, you waited calmly, your gaze sweeping over the opulent surroundings. Your eyes lingered on the large circular table at the centre of the room, with a large display of flowers in the middle. You gently leaned forward, eyes closing as you inhaled the sweet scent before taking in the rest of the room. The twin curved staircases that ascended gracefully upwards, adorned with paintings of the inner circle on the walls.

Cute. You mused.

You knew of Feyre’s affinity for art and painting, Lucien had filled you in and you’d done your own research too. You would not be coming into this setting blind.

Your eyes drifted over the portraits of Rhys and Feyre's family, each figure rendered in exquisite detail. Among them, your gaze settled on an image that felt oddly familiar, it was your pen pal. But as you gazed at the details it felt as though you were looking at someone you knew well, there was a simmering beneath your skin.

Why did he feel so familiar?

Captured with remarkable precision by Feyre's skilled hand, his hazel eyes bore into you from beneath the layers of paint. Their intensity, almost unnerving yet strangely captivating.

Why were you so drawn to him?

Multiple footsteps echoed through the marble floors, prompting you to delicately brush down your tunic, ensuring it lay perfectly to display the intricate symbols of the courts. The tunic was one of the same from the previous meeting, but instead of silver being the base you had commissioned another version. A dark charcoal, a nod to the night court. And you have to say the designs really did pop against the smoky backdrop.

As Rhysand and Feyre entered the foyer, their presence commanded attention, followed closely by three more figures. Among them, you recognised Azriel instantly, his piercing gaze locking onto yours.

It was the second time today that his eyes had ensnared your attention.

Cassian and Nesta followed suit, their identities obvious from Lucien's descriptions.

Azriel took you in, digesting your new look. One he couldn’t deny he liked. He enjoyed seeing you in Night Court colours– his colours.

“Welcome, y/n,” Feyre greeted with a warm smile.

"Your home is beautiful. Thank you for letting me stay here," you replied graciously, returning her smile.

A shadowy fae had swiftly taken your bags moments ago, her disappearing in silence with your belongings. You assumed she was taking them to your room.

“I just thought with us working so closely together, you being close made more sense,” Feyre explained. Despite the weight of this new chapter bearing down on the entire court, Feyre had decided to spearhead this herself. She was taking the lead, determined to prove her worth as High Lady to her people and all of Prythian.

Feyre then proceeded to introduce Cassian and Nesta. You nodded at them with a polite smile, “And of course you already know Azriel” Feyre spoke.

“Hmm I do” you hummed gently on your lips, the words rolling off in a quiet melody that seemed to make Azriel’s shadows vibrate. If you hadn’t been so enraptured by his gaze you might have noticed the smirks playing on Rhy’s and Cassian’s lips as they glanced over at the exchange.

One of Azriel’s shadows had found itself under your flowing trousers, swirling around your ankle like a gentle breeze. You wondered if Azriel knew of how fond his little minions were of you.

How they often stayed longer than necessary between correspondences, how they liked to play with your hair or how they would always dance when you hummed. Leaving them reluctant to ever leave.

You wondered if they had told him that, you also wondered what he told them.

The Inner Circle graciously showed you around the River House, leading you to the room where you would be staying during your visits. Your belongings for your short trip, already unpacked and hung in the wardrobe.

Finally, you all congregated in a large office that had been designated for your use during your visits. The office was spacious, with a large table dominating the centre of the room. You settled into a seat, surrounded by the others, who were all ready to assist you in your duties.

As part of your new role, you and Lucien had initiated a proposition allowing people from across Prythian to submit their concerns, feelings, and issues. You had worked through Summer’s submissions during your visit, as Lucien was also doing with the courts under his care. Rhys conjured multiple stacks of pages onto the table with a simple click of his finger, each page representing a submission from individuals within the Night Court.

There had to be thousands. Thank the stars Feyre had enlisted the help of her inner circle, otherwise you’re not sure the both of you would have made it through them all in one day.

You couldn't help but widen your eyes at the sight, the sheer volume of submissions taking you by surprise. Tarquin's court had been demanding, but the Night Court's submissions seemed to dwarf them in comparison.

Rhys and Feyre exchanged a glance, a hint of embarrassment colouring their expressions.

You could hear their concerns in the pauses of their breaths– Had they not been effectively managing their court? Were their people dissatisfied?

Feyre looked disheartened.

"This is a general submission, covering various concerns about the peace treaty, border movements, and trade agreements," you explained gently, seeking to alleviate any tension in the room. "It's commendable that your people feel comfortable expressing their feelings. We can't address issues if people choose to remain silent."

Feyre visibly relaxed at your words, and with that, the six of you began the arduous task of sorting through the requests, categorising them based on their content.

You’re not sure how much time had passed before light conversation spread across the room. Cassian huffing and puffing at how quickly everyone else was reading through requests, while he’d only made it through three.

Azriel was opposite you, flicking through the documents meticulously. Every now and then his gaze lingering on you before moving back to the task at hand. His shadows silently helping, by moving pages to their correct piles.

You wanted his shadows to help you. You knew if you’d asked them, they’d happily oblige. They were quite forthcoming during your correspondences, but you kept your mouth sealed and worked through the pages alone.

There had been an underlying theme to the Night Court’s residents' concerns. Similar to how Summer collectively were worried about the physical rebuilding of their home, the Night Court had their own collective issue.

They didn’t want the borders to open. They didn’t want to share Velaris.

You’re not particularly surprised, Velaris had been a secret city for years. It’s inhabitants were concerned for their safety, but of course it had also bred a rhetoric of exclusivity. They didn’t want ‘outsiders’ in their home.

Feyre seemed to become more and more uncomfortable as the pile regarding border restrictions continued to grow. You could tell Rhys was trying to comfort her, most likely through that magical mating bond– but he was failing.

“They’re pushing back Rhys…” The words left Feyre’s lips sadly. Despite how progressive Rhysand and Feyre wanted to be in this new chapter, that didn’t mean their people felt the same.

Velaris, Hewn City, the Ilyarians. Everything was so segregated, you weren’t surprised in the slightest that this type of mentality had grown.

“People are scared of what they don’t know..” You glanced up to Feyre, who was looking at you now. As were all the members of the table.

“The people of Velaris won’t be the only ones who may have reservations” You continued, laying the paper in your hand back onto the table.

“So did Tarquins people also feel this way?” Feyre asked, you could hear the desperation in her words.

Please tell me it’s not just my people who are being this hostile.

You tilted your head slightly, your lips forming a tight line. “Every court will differ in their issues… Summer’s concerns were not the same as yours.”

You knew that wasn’t what Feyre wanted to hear, her mate pulled her gently into him to press a reassuring kiss on her temple. Rhys pulled away, his expression turning serious as he narrowed his gaze on you.

“What are we doing wrong?” he asked, the weight of his question palpable in the room. The High Lord was essentially asking you where he and his family were failing. It wasn’t an easy question to address, but it seemed he wanted constructive criticism.

You rolled your shoulders back as you measured the tension in the room. Sometimes criticism could be hard to digest. Intertwining your fingers you placed your hands on the table in front of you.

“I appreciate you’ve done what you had to in order to protect your court,” you began cautiously, feeling the burning stares of all five of them on you.

But you wouldn’t let them deter you. This was a part of your job.

You continued, “But I believe there are some detrimental damages that have occurred because of it.”

You felt Nesta fold her arms beside you, and noticed how Cassian fidgeted in his seat. They were not enjoying this.

“Your people are segregated,” you said, stating the uncomfortable truth. “If you are deemed worthy enough, you can live in Velaris. If not, you are trapped in Hewn.” you emphasised this by bringing one hand to the left and your other to the right, as if metaphorically representing the two cities you mentioned.

"But that’s not how it is,” Cassian interjected, his tone defensive.

You continued, unwavering. “And then the Illyrians get the freezing mountains? You must be able to see what it looks like, you must be able to understand how it may feel to be a citizen of Hewn or an Illyrian, and look at Velaris wondering why you are not able to be a part of this.”

“Perhaps even feel you are not worthy enough to be part of this. It not only breeds an elitist mindset for the citizens of Velaris but the resentment the inhabitants Hewn city harbour must be tenfold”

Cassian's demeanour shifted, growing more defensive. “You don’t understand, that’s how it has always been. Everything we’ve done, the sacrifices we’ve made were all for the greater good.”

“Every court, every person has had to make sacrifices. Let’s not sit here and start tallying, as you will be quickly humbled to realise it is not the Night Court that has lost the most,” you countered, feeling the tension in the room rise. “Nor shall sacrifice be used as a just excuse when something is not right.”

Azriel gave Cassian a subtle look, urging him to calm down.

Taking a breath, you spoke softer this time “I’m not here to judge, we can’t change what has happened. But I won’t mince my words. The way this court has existed has allowed only a certain group to prosper, and that is a problem.”

"Feyre, if you truly wish for humans to live in your court in harmony with Fae, if you want your borders to open and those who wish to travel and move freely, then things will have to change," you emphasised, your tone earnest yet firm. "If the Fae of this land can't already coexist among each other, then I don't know how opening borders or integrating humans will even be feasible."

Feyre's eyes met yours, a flicker of realisation crossing her features as she absorbed your words. It was clear that your statement had struck a chord with her.

“Then what do you propose we do, Miss Emissary of Peace?” Azriel’s question hung heavy in the air, his eyes searching yours for a solution. But it felt like a challenge.

While Cassian’s opposition had been obvious, Azriel, ever the Spymaster, had been quiet in his disagreement. He equally hadn’t been fond of the way you challenged his High Lord and Lady’s reign, but he wanted to test you. See if that sharp wit he had encountered in your correspondence could actually follow through to something more than words.

You paused, feeling the weight of Azriel's gaze on you.

Then you turned to the head of the table “Your son,” Feyre paused, a flicker of concern crossing her face at the mention of her child. “He is of studying age?”

Feyre nodded, Rhys giving you a scrutinising look. “He has tutors, yes.”

You looked at the Shadowsinger again, your eyes narrowing as your lips quipped at the edges. You would pass his test.

“I propose a school. A school for the children of Velaris, the children of Hewn,” you said, casting a meaningful glance at Cassian, “and the Illyrian children.”

At once, objections erupted around the table. Voices clamoured, expressing doubts about Illyrian participation and concerns over mingling different communities. How only High Fae had ever been the ones to have access to education, and that other groups would most likely not even care. But your focus remained on Feyre, sensing a glimmer of interest in her eyes.

“I know how stubborn people can be, how set in their ways they become over time,” you continued, addressing the room. “So we start with the children. We show them how positive change can be. Myself and Lucein both agreed adopting a human education system would be really beneficial here in Prythian. Your court is currently the only one with the means and resources.”

Despite the protests of those around the table, Feyre remained locked on your words so you continued. Knowing exactly what you needed to say to win her favour.

“I believe every child has a right to learn, to read and write, and a chance at an education. A place they can go to where they are safe, where they will be heard. A place where they can make friends, and…I guess after all this suffering and loss, shouldn’t we give all children an opportunity to just be kids?”

The room was silent now, Rhys tilted his head with a small smirk while Feyre beside him leaned forward. Cassian had gone silent too, your words silencing any oppositions he may have had. Even Nesta seemed to be reflecting on your proposition.

It was Azriel who offered you a gentle smile, all though his gaze was still dark. You had passed then. His silent test.

“A school for all children, it would be the first of its kind in all of Prythian.” Feyre beamed, looking at her mate with a glowing expression. “And maybe we could eventually welcome the humans too…and anyone else who wanted to join.”

You nodded in agreement, your vision now becoming a shared dream with the High Lady.

“I love it,” Feyre sang, her enthusiasm contagious. “But the guys are right, the people won’t agree.”

Rhys leaned forward, his expression thoughtful. “Perhaps,” he began, his voice measured, “but we can't afford to let fear and resistance dictate our actions. This is about shaping the future of our court, for all of Prythian. Fostering unity, and breaking down barriers that have long divided us.”

As chatter filled the room, you felt any lingering tension roll off your shoulders. Another successful decision was made, one that would undoubtedly surprise Lucien when he heard about it. You had gotten the Night Court to agree to opening a school on your first day, a proposal that had originally been a part of a five year plan.

Oh, the satisfaction of being able to gloat about this when you next saw Lucie.

Feyre excitedly began to discuss curriculum, subjects that would appeal to all communities. Of course she was quick to advocate that Art classes had to be a priority, and Cassian had joined in, declaring if the Ilyarins were to ever let their children attend school some kind of defensive fighting class would have to exist. Nesta was surprisingly quick to suggest Literature, the mention of the subject blazing something alight in her eyes.

“Do you always get what you want?” Azirel asked smoothly, his question going unnoticed by his busy family.

You smirked, your gaze softening on him “Always.”

༄

You don’t belong here.

The ocean doesn’t want you, we don’t want you.

Sharp talons were clawing at your skin, dragging you down to the oceans floor.

Drown, half breed. Why won’t you drown.

Dirty blood.

There’s no home for you here.

You awaken abruptly, your heart pounding in your chest, the remnants of fear lingering like a ghost. Gasping for air, you instinctively clutch at your throat, as if the claws of your nightmares still linger there.

Ready to drag you back down to the dark void of the oceans bed.

But it wasn’t real.

No, it had been real once though. Now a distant memory.

You lay there, trying to steady your breathing. It had been years since that particular nightmare plagued your sleep. It had haunted your younger years, a relentless spectre that would always find a way to creep into your dreams.

But with time, with age, you had managed to push it aside, burying it deep within the recesses of your mind.

Yet, tonight it had resurfaced with a vengeance. Perhaps it was the discussion of differences earlier in the day that had dredged up those buried fears. The submissions filled with divisive words like ‘other’, ‘outsiders’ and ‘them’ had struck a nerve, tapping into the lingering insecurities you were sure you’d grown out of.

But being 'other' was something you had become accustomed to. It was a label you had carried with you your entire life, never quite fitting in there, never fitting in here. Always straddling the line between worlds.

The land and the ocean.

You take a moment to steal a glance towards the window, greeted by the sight of the night sky, its darkness punctuated only by the twinkling stars and the soft glow of the moon. It was still night. Yet, you were wide awake. And knowing your hosts as late risers, you had a lot of time to kill.

With a sigh, you slip out of the large bed and reach for a robe hanging by the washroom. Its smooth black silk drapes elegantly around you, not wanting to leave the room in merely a night gown. Although you doubted anyone would be awake at this hour.

The need for fresh air beckons, guiding your steps towards the balcony that adjoins the living room you had explored earlier. As you step outside, a gentle breeze caresses your skin. Taking a seat in the plush couch, you find yourself mesmerised by the panoramic view of Velaris before you. The city sprawls out in all its glory, its enchanting beauty captivating even in the darkness of night.

Before you even have a chance to fully immerse yourself in the moment, a cup and pot of tea materialise in front of you, seemingly conjured by the magic of the manor. With a grateful smile, you pour yourself a cup of the steaming liquid, relishing in its comforting warmth.

It's only a matter of moments before you sensed his presence. You instinctively knew it was him. His shadows singing a whisper that you don’t even think he had been able to hear.

"You going to lurk there all night?" you tease with a playful smile, but you don’t turn to him. Your eyes fixed on the city across the river, while you sip quietly on your drink.

Azriel, perhaps surprised that you noticed him, joins you sitting at your side. His expression is tired, his usually sharp features softened by weariness. You wonder if he, too, wrestles with his own nightmares and torments that keep him awake at night.

"I understand why you did it," you speak softly, gesturing towards the city below. "It's beautiful, worth protecting. I hope you all didn't feel attacked by my observations earlier."

Azriel offers a small, understanding smile. "You have quite a sharp tongue, but you spoke the truth."

You sat with his words for a while, silence filling the air while he poured himself a cup of tea once the house had conjured him a cup.

“You always had the intention of proposing a school didn’t you?” Azriel's inquiry was direct, his eyes probing for the truth.

“It’s something Lucien and I had discussed," you admitted, meeting his gaze steadily. "We believed this court would be the most suitable place. While I hadn’t planned on suggesting it today, the solution seemed fitting given the circumstances.” As you spoke, you realised Azriel was closer than you initially thought, his presence radiating warmth beside you that almost made you move in closer to share that heat.

“But ultimately, the plan is broader," you continued. "We envision schools across Prythian, freely accessible to those who wish to attend. Schools for the littlings, and perhaps even universities for those seeking higher education. It’s a long-term plan, but I believe it could be the perfect tie to connect all the courts."

Vassa had mentioned the existence of a university on the continent, catering to humans in their early adulthood or those seeking to resume their studies. Once you and Lucien had solidified your plan for schools across Prythian, it was Tamlin to whom you proposed the idea of a university. You sensed that his court needed a beacon of hope, something to strive for. Your suggestion had the desired effect, not that you ever had a doubt. But it was how you’d managed to pull Tamlin from his depressive state. Giving him a sense of purpose and direction.

Azriel's expression softened, a hint of admiration in his eyes. "You really have it all planned out."

“Planning can only go so far though…” You paused, your thoughts drifting to the complexities of your role. It wasn’t all rainbows and schools. As if hearing your inner concerns, a cold, gentle caress brushed across your face – his shadows.

Azriel’s eyes widened slightly, watching as his shadows acted autonomously, curling around your hair and kissing your cheek.

"Well, hello, little ones. Have you missed me?" you purred playfully, eliciting a soft vibration of excitement from the shadows as they continued to fuss over you.

A soft melodic laugh left your lips, that had them stirring again.

"They seem to like you," Azriel remarked, his voice tinged with slight disbelief as he watched the shadows' unexpected display of affection.

"What's not to like?" you teased, noticing Azriel's surprise at his shadows' behaviour. "We've grown quite friendly during our correspondences. I might even consider them my friends," you added with a smile, knowing your words would only amplify the shadows' playfulness.

Friend, friend, friend.

They seemed to chant in Azriel’s ear.

“They’ve never acted like this with anyone before…” He whispered, his hand gently reaching forward to you. You didn’t move as he pulled a shadow from your hair, his rough fingers gently grazing past your throat as he did. The small action eliciting goosebumps over your body.

For a brief moment, you could have lost yourself in that delicate interaction, but a realisation dawned upon you. What he had just said was a lie.

“They’ve never acted like this with anyone before”

Lie.

But why would he lie about that? Something so small and trivial.

You could hear it in the unspoken, under his words, what it actually revealed. There had been another.

But who?

Next part >>

a/n: ummm so what do we think? Sorry if the politics are a little boring, just trying to set the plot out! This will be a slow burn, but once it gets going we'll be off for a fab ride (I promise) Also for all my Eris lovers, he'll be coming up in the next part so do not worry - Lottie xx

206 notes · View notes