#sweet velvet flower there is no time/ I ask to go back I wish you were mine

[llovelymoonn]

my favourite faye wei wei paintings

little blue bird from the pillow flew (2020) \\ first i must clean the keys of the piano with milk (2022) \\ the black bells of a distant new mexico (2023) \\ an echo trapped forever (2023) \\ sweet velvet flower there is no time/ I ask to go back I wish you were mine (2021) \\ two butterfly lovers (2021) \\ untitled (2022) \\ nectar for honey (2021) \\ red i (2022) \\ fountain lies the sun (2017)

support this blog

#art #faye wei wei #little blue bird from the pillow flew #first i must clean the keys of the piano with milk #the black bells of a distant new mexico #an echo trapped forever #two butterfly lovers #sweet velvet flower there is no time/ I ask to go back I wish you were mine #untitled #red i #nectar for honey #fountain lies the sun

[princessaxoxo]

⟡₊ ⊹ 𝒶 𝓉𝒶𝓈𝓉ℯ ℴ𝒻 𝓈𝓊𝑔𝒶𝓇: 𝓅𝒶𝓇𝓉 𝐼 ⟡₊ ⊹

sugar daddy!henry cavill x burlesque dancer!curvy reader

✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡♡˚

❥ 𝘴𝘶𝘮𝘮𝘢𝘳𝘺: an enticing encounter at a burlesque club leads to an interesting offer.

❥ 𝘸𝘢𝘳𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴: 18+ only, mentions of nudity.

❥ 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘥 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘵: 1.8k

✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡♡˚

Thump–Thump–Thump

It was the first night of your performance, and your heart anxiously hammered against your chest. For weeks, you practiced your routine, planned your outfit, and selected the song you would use. As you peaked through the curtains to take a look, you saw how packed it was tonight. “It’s time, sweetie," the owner, Beatrice, of the Kitty Écarlate club said to you.

You took center stage as two of your coworkers stood behind you.

The purple velvet curtain opened, and Marilyn Monroe's "I wanna be loved by you” began to play. Adrenaline ran through your veins as you felt the bright spotlight come over you, and you forgot why you were nervous in the first place. On stage, you exuded a confidence that you had never felt before.

Henry’s eyes lifted to the stage as the spotlight hit you, your body seductively moving in tune with the song as you sang along. He placed his glass of whiskey down, and fascination filled him as he took notice of your look in detail. You had your hair styled in curls inspired by the forties and a simple makeup look that made you glow, consisting of a red lip, followed by a beauty mark underneath your eye on your left cheek, and some shimmer on your cheekbones. The curves that you displayed did not go unnoticed by him; in fact, he wanted to see more and trace them.

Teasing the audience to see a portion of your breast, you delicately dragged one feathered fan down the length of your arm. At the lyric, "I couldn’t aspire to anything higher than to fill the desire to make you my own!” The other one was pulled away by one of your backup dancers, and you looked back at the crowd with a surprised expression as you quickly covered the rest of your body.

As part of your performance, you strolled through the audience, interacting with every customer. Henry couldn’t take his eyes off of you as you made your way around the room, up until you were right in front of him. You looked at the slightly older man in front of you; his hair and beard held specks of silver.

Carelessly, to the tune of "I Wanna Be Kissed by You, Alone!" by Marilyn, you bent over as though you were going to give him a kiss and met his blue eyes, which had a tiny bit of brown in the left. And as you started to back away to return to the stage, he looked after you with longing.

At the end of the song, the last feather fan was pulled away, and both of your back-up dancers covered the front of your body as they shook the feather fans by their sides. When the curtain closed, your smile remained unwavering. With a broad smile and a silk robe, your boss ran over to you. "Sweetheart, you did a fantastic job; I’m so proud of you!”

All of the girls at the club showered you with love, and when you went back to your station in front of your mirror, there were a dozen flower bouquets and sweet little notes from all the girls that worked with you.

With a gleam and a playful smile on her face, Natasha hurried over to you and exclaimed, "A hot silver fox gave me this business card to give to you." And you turned to look at the back of the card, where the words, "I wish to meet with you. Call the number, HC," was written in cursive. When you turned it over to face forward, a number was displayed. That stranger, the attractive older man, was the first person that came to your mind.

Looking back at Natasha, “Is he still here?” you asked, and she shook her head, explaining that he left after she received the card from him. So you decided to keep it, but weren’t sure if you would call.

You couldn't stop staring at the number that night as your mind raced with images of him. You could still see the desire in his blue eyes as he looked back at you. Natasha's voice, urging you to phone him or else she would call on your behalf, lingered in the back of your mind as well.

A week later, as you pulled out your wallet to pay for your coffee, you spotted the card again. Although you’d forgotten, you dialed his number as soon as you picked up your coffee cup and sat down. At first, you assumed he wouldn't answer, but after a few rings, you heard "hello?" from the person speaking on the other end.

Immediately you perked up and said, "Hello, um." You tried not to seem stupid, but you failed, so you shook your head at yourself and carried on. "You wanted a call from me? At the club where I work, you gave your card to a friend of mine."

On the other end of the line, there was a moment of silence. “Yes, I would like to meet with you, if you’re interested.” Now it was your turn to take a moment of silence. “Yes, of course."

Feeling that you sounded overly eager, you smacked yourself. "When are you free?" Over the phone, his deep, husky voice warmed your body. "Tomorrow, I am." He agreed right away and texted you an address and code. "Open the gate using the code."

Feeling foolish for changing your clothes three times, you scoffed at yourself. Every time, you looked cute, but not exactly how you had hoped to look to see him. You left the house for what would turn out to be the most intriguing meeting of your life after finally deciding on an outfit that fit your style: a long-sleeved beige sweater with a black skirt and black stockings underneath, along with black heel boots and silver earrings.

To let him know you were on your way, you sent him a message. The trip from your place to his took thirty minutes. Nerves and excitement were all you could feel as you pulled up to his gate. The gate slowly opened when you entered the code, and when you pulled up and saw his house, you gasped.

To put it mildly, the home was stunning; it was both modern and classical in design. You immediately began to feel less. You drove a 2014 Toyota Corolla and lived in a studio apartment that you could barely afford. That's when you started questioning why this stranger would want to become acquainted with you at all.

Once your car was parked, you took a moment and mentally prepared yourself. After that, you got out of your car with confidence and knocked on his door three times. A woman who appeared to be a housekeeper answered the door and greeted you warmly inside. "It will only take a moment to notify Mr. Cavill of your arrival."

As she left, fidgeting with your hands, you glanced at what little you could see of the inside of his home. It didn't take long for you to hear footfall on the hardwood floors. You turned quickly, and for the first time in a week, you saw the handsome stranger you had initially encountered.

As he motioned for you to follow him, saying, "This way," you took notice of his navy tailored suit that fit him perfectly.

After following him up some stairs, you came to a patio overlooking his backyard. Beautiful flowers that were well-kept and trimmed surrounded a lovely garden.

"Here, kindly have a seat." When you looked back, you saw that he had pulled out a chair for you. Once you took a seat, he moved around the table to take a seat across from you. "Ever since I saw you at the burlesque show, I have been captivated by you," he declared. "Which is why I'm making you an offer, which I hope you'll accept." You recognized the document that slid in front of you as a contract.

Staring back at him confused, he said, "It's an arrangement, a paid relationship.” He then continued, “If you'd like, we can conduct formal introductions, but it's okay if not. I would need specific information about the costs you may be facing or require assistance with. We will also decide on your monthly payment amount for the aforementioned bills as well as any purchases you would like to make for yourself.” You understood what he said. "So, basically, you want to be my sugar daddy?"

He gave a little laugh and nodded his head. "Yes, to put it in simpler terms."

This arrangement could help you in more ways than one. You had student loans to pay off, and you wouldn’t be late on your rent any longer. Not to mention, he would spend money on you himself. And you enjoyed his company thus far.

“You may give it some thought.”

But you had already made your decision as you reached your hand across the table for him to shake and formally introduced yourself to him. A smile was returned to you. "Henry,” he said as he shook your hand. His hand was smooth and hefty, with long, tapering fingers. You could see how strong he was from the veins in his hand, which made you melt.

“Shall we get started?” He asked, and you nodded your head with a nervous smile at his question.

The rest of the morning was filled with questions about how much you pay on your monthly bills and what type you have. Indicating if any sexual activities will be included and agreeing on how much you’ll get paid and what days of the week you are free. Henry further proclaimed that you should never be afraid to ask for additional money.

Afterward, the both of you fell into natural comfortability—the kind of people who have known each other for years, not strangers that are just meeting officially, asking small questions to learn a bit about each other.

The time flew by in an instant, it seemed. Neither of you noticed it was noon until your stomach rumbled in front of him, and you apologized while becoming embarrassed.

"Don't apologize; we should eat." Henry took a look at his watch and saw it was around twelve. His laugh was full of warmth and life, as he requested some food be brought to the table.

Like a gentleman, he escorted you back to your car after lunch and opened the door for you. “I’d like to take you out for dinner on Thursday at 6.”

“What is the dress code?” you jokingly asked. "Dress however you please; I will never advise you on what is appropriate or inappropriate," he said as you got in the car, closing the door. The notion of seeing him again heated your body, and a faint flush crept into your cheeks.

˚₊⭑‧꒰ა [Tag list] ໒꒱ ‧₊⭑˚

@shellyshellshell @ellethespaceunicorn @beck07990 @ktficworld @chloe92 @kingliam2019 @juliaorpll78 @armystay89 @nighttimestan @identity2212

#henry cavill #first post #henry cavill x reader #henry cavill smut #smutty #henry cavill fanfic #henry cavill fanfiction #henry cavill x y/n #henry cavill x you #henry cavill x female reader #henry cavill romance #sugarbaby #burlesque #henry cavill x curvy reader #curvy reader #dc comics #dc universe #Spotify

[tj-dragonblade]

[FLUFFBRUARY FICLET] Before I Go

Rated: G Word Count: 849 Tags: Fluffbruary, Fluffbruary 2024, fluff, sap, established relationship, Hob Gadling loves Dream of the Endless | Morpheus, Dream of the Endless | Morpheus loves Hob Gadling, kisses, parting is such sweet sorrow, flower symbolism

Fluffbruary Prompts: Day 16 neighbor desire horse Day 17 magazine tactile curtains Alt prompts: evening, caress

Additional inspiration taken from a couple of these kisses

Title credit and musical accompaniment: Before I Go by Yanni (Spotify link)

Summary: Season-of-Mists-style visit, some time later in their relationship

On AO3

It is a lush and expansive garden where Hob finds himself on a beautiful summer evening—flowers climbing the trees and blooming in every direction, nocturnal birds twittering their songs in the branches overhead, crickets chirping accompaniment in the undergrowth. The stars twinkle brightly in the blue-velvet sky and the moon shines full and brilliant, a silvery wash of illumination over the landscape. The path under Hob's feet winds between flower beds and lovely stone borders, toward a burbling stream running musically beneath the trailing branches of a willow tree. He follows along to a little wooden bridge arching over the stream and across, to a decadent little bower of trellises wreathed in climbing ivy and dripping with twilight-purple wisteria.

There's a familiar figure waiting there for him, and he smiles as he draws near. "Hello, love."

"Hello, Hob." Dream's eyes glitter softly like the stars, just as dark and depthless as the sky, just as beautiful. The moonlight illuminates him like a work of art, pearlescent skin and raven-feather hair, smoke-shadow robes draping him in regal refinement. He looks ready to hold court, to receive an audience, and Hob is awestruck all over again that this unfathomably powerful otherworldly creature deigns to be his friend, to be so much more; to accept his affections, to return them. He is so very lucky, and he knows it.

He looks up at Dream, who is currently half a head taller than him, and he can feel the fondness shining in his own eyes. "I'm not awake, am I."

"No." Dream's tiny little smile is both affectionate and regretful. "I apologize for usurping your dream; there is something I must attend to that will keep me away for some time. I did not wish to leave without making you aware."

Hob furrows his brow. "It's not Hell again, is it?"

"No. Nor do I anticipate any danger or risk to myself, my realm, but there may be. Delays. In resolving the matter."

Hob knows better than to ask for specifics in this sort of thing when Dream has not given them, regardless of how curious he may be. "Will Matthew be with you?"

"Yes."

"Then I know you're in good company and I'll hear from you if needed." He wishes, in some deep fundamental part of himself, that he could accompany Dream on these sorts of errands, but in this also he knows better. There are so many things in existence that are far beyond what his immortal-but-still-mundane mind can comprehend.

Dream steps forward, closer. "Dearest Hob. I would bring you with me, were it advisable. But as it is not—" he lifts a hand to Hob's face, touches him in the gentlest caress "—I will bid you farewell, and promise to return as soon as is feasible."

Hob places his own hand over Dream's, holds it there as he leans into it. "I'll be waiting, dove. Be safe."

Dream makes no reply, just gazes at him tenderly, leans in until his forehead rests against Hob's. He tangles his fingers with Hob's, splays them behind his neck and tilts in slowly until their lips meet.

It is soft, sweet, short, this kiss; and then another, a gentle farewell before Dream draws back. His hand drops from Hob's face but Hob can't quite let go, following it down, clinging; he is full to the brim with a dozen different emotions and all he wants to do is kiss Dream again, so deeply and so thoroughly that Dream will still taste him long after they've parted, will carry his love with him on whatever this errand is and know that Hob is waiting faithfully for his return.

He's leaning back in already, helpless in the face of this desire, but redirects at the last second, planting a soft kiss on Dream's cheek instead. He won't demand more than was given, not when Dream has duty weighing heavy on his mind, not when Dream has shown such consideration in making sure to take his leave. He is respectful of Dream's time and Dream's responsibilities and he will not do anything to make Dream think otherwise.

But Dream's eyes flash as Hob draws back, and then Dream has seized Hob's bicep and yanked him back in, is kissing him soundly. Hob can't help a delighted smile, at that, but it's quickly lost in the fierce parting of Dream's lips, the yearning wanting lament of his fervent mouth, and Hob loses himself in returning the sentiment.

That. That is a proper kiss goodbye, Hob very carefully does not say aloud, blinking as Dream lets him go.

"Until I return, devoted mine," Dream breathes, the stars in his eyes blazing, and steps back.

"I'll be waiting," Hob says again, the 'as long as it takes' and 'I'll miss you' and 'I love you' unspoken.

Dream smiles, the tiny kitten-soft smile that Hob knows is just for him, and takes his leave.

Hob stays, beneath the twining ivy and the curtains of clinging wisteria, and watches him go, the music of the crickets rising gently in his wake.

= Drafted: 2/17/24 Posted: 2/17/24

Why did I pick wisteria? Gosh I'm so glad you asked! Because it's pretty, and it made for lovely visuals. BUT then I looked up meanings also, and serendipitously I found:

1. Purple wisteria symbolizes royalty and undying devotion or love that transcends time 2. Victorians would include a cluster of delicate purple blossoms in their bouquets when they wanted to send a message of overwhelming desire and passion. In particular, the Wisteria was considered to say “I cling to you” as it would cling to the branches of other trees. Wisteria sends such a strong message of romance in most cultures that they’re usually best used for declarations of devotion or for wedding arrangements. 3. Wisteria—Welcome; Meeting you means so much to me 4. Wisteria gives a symbolic representation of beauty, love, long life and immortality, grace, bliss, honour, patience, endurance, longevity, releasing burdens, victory over hardships.

(There are relevant meanings to the the ivy (fidelity, everlasting life) and the willow (flexibility, adaptation) as well)

Sources: 1 2 3 4

#TJs Fics #TJs Fluffbruary #Fluffbruary 2024 #Sandman #Dreamling

[weepingwidar]

Faye Wei Wei (British, 1994) - Sweet velvet flower there is no time/I ask to go back I wish you were mine (2021)

#faye wei wei

[teamluxx]

i was never cut out for prom queen.

a luxxcia fic

READ HERE ON AO3

A/N; for all the queers that have been loving luxxcia recently, this ones dedicated to u

C/W; there is a short scene where someone is grabbed without consent ! just wanted to put that just in case

Balloons, a huge teddy bear, a massive sign, the whole nine yards. Written in horrible calligraphy on a dollar tree posterboard: “PROM?”

Luxx fakely smiled at the sign, mastering the art of it for years now. She was asked by a guy she didn’t even know the name of, and didn’t really care to know. He was attractive, well, not to her, but probably to everyone else. A jock type, obsessed with his looks, but not in a charming way.

She only accepted his proposal for popularity reasons, not knowing him but not caring. As long as her status was elevated.

It was only 3 days before prom, and she was worried she would have to go alone, but she was glad someone finally pulled through and asked her, even if it wasn’t someone she wanted.

“I got a prom date,” Luxx said plainly as she sat down at her usual seat in the back of the class.

“Really? Oh my gosh, Luxxie! That’s so exciting!” Marcia beamed, her head leaning on her hand as she turned to face Luxx.

Marcia was Luxx’s best friend. They’d been friends since middle school after Luxx moved to New York from New Jersey. Luxx had loved how bright and bubbly Marcia was, and she perfectly complimented her over-the-top personality. So they instantly clicked.

“It’s whatever,” Luxx responded, setting down the huge bear she had been gifted behind her seat. “Do you want this? It’s not really me,” she asked, pointing to the candies, pink flowers and the aforementioned stuffed bear.

Marcia smiled, nodding quickly. “I’d love them,” she responded, reaching out to take the chocolates off her hands. Marcia had a sweet tooth, always saying that the sugar “helped her keep her sweet personality.”

Luxx, for the 2 days left before prom, spent all her time practicing her makeup and her hair so she would look perfect when the day came. Her best friend would be going as well, so they would both get ready at her house. Luxx always spent a lot of time at Marcia’s, thinking of that more as her home than where she actually lived.

The day of, Luxx had finally picked what she was going to wear. A long, dark blue, crushed velvet dress that had a slit down her right leg and a cut out on her sides. Of course, being as smart as she was, though, she wore a large white coat to cover all the holes that the school definitely wouldn’t allow.

Marcia’s pink babydoll dress was exactly her style, a huge 60s style hair bump adorning her head with white vinyl gogo boots on her feet. She looked like she was ripped straight out of Hairspray.

Marcia was the designated driver of their friendship. Luxx gets far too angry on the road, and it was always hilarious to see Marcia have road rage.

When the girls had arrived, they were about 20 minutes late, because Luxx always had to be “fashionably late,” which actually meant she had horrible time management and was never ready when she was supposed to be.

The first hour was boring, and Luxx’s date was nowhere in sight. She had searched every inch of the gymnasium, but all hope was inevitably lost. Luxx didn’t want to spend any time with him, anyways, so it wasn’t really a fuss.

“This sucks,” Luxx yelled to Marcia over the music. “I wish I would’ve smoked a blunt before this.”

“Yeah… But hey, at least we’re here together, right…?” Marcia replied, smiling weakly.

“You’re right. We haven’t been to a dance together since middle school.”

When Luxx had finished her sentence, she felt a hand wrap around her waist as she was pulled towards someone. She instantly turned around, smacking the arm of whoever it was that had touched her and pushing them away. She looked at them, pissed expression plastered onto her face. It was her date that just decided to show up.

“What is your problem?” He asked, clearly upset by her actions. “You’re my date.”

“I might be your date, but that does not give you the right to touch me,” she retorted, pushing him back once more

Before she knew it, a cold, bright red liquid was spilt onto her front and all over her coat. She gasped, loudly screaming as she looked to see the boy smiling at her. “What is wrong with you?!” She yelled, staring up at him, enraged.

She looked at him once more, scoffing as she walked away, deciding not to fight with him. Marcia looked at him, shocked, quickly following behind Luxx, assuming they were probably heading to her car.

“This is fucking ridiculous,” Luxx huffed, taking the coat off and flipping it inside out. “The one fucking time I go somewhere where my reputation is important and someone ruins it for me. I can never have anything.” Marcia doesn’t respond, assuming Luxx just needed a moment to let her emotions out.

“And to think that I thought he wasn’t going to come. To think that I was going to be safe from shitty boys for one fucking night.”

Marcia had already unlocked the car door before Luxx made it there, practically throwing herself inside. Marcia made her way quickly towards the drivers seat. “Do you want to go back to mine…?” Marcia carefully asks, followed by a nod from Luxx, who had thrown her coat into Marcia’s backseat.

The drive to Marcia’s house is silent, only about 10 minutes away from their school. When they arrived, Luxx sifted through her purse, having a key to Marcia’s, unlocking the door without thinking as she made her way up the stairs.

Following closely behind, Marcia triple checked that her car and the front door were locked before making her way up to her room. Luxx was sat in front of Marcia’s vanity, staring at herself. Marcia tentatively sat on the edge of her bed, brows furrowed as she looked at Luxx.

“Is there just something wrong with me?” Luxx asked, breaking the silence. “Do people want to make a joke out of me? To use me because I would do anything to just fit in somewhere?”

“Luxxie…” Marcia started, getting up from her spot on the bed, standing behind her and wrapping her arms carefully around her neck. “That’s not true. You’re beautiful. And you do fit in somewhere,” she quietly assured.

Luxx looked up at Marcia in their reflection, offering her a weak and small smile, appreciating her words. “Thanks, Marsh. I just… hate that this always happens to me. I can never have anything. Something always goes wrong and people do something to me just for the fun of it. I don’t have anyone.”

“You have me,” Marcia says weakly, smiling at her in the mirror. “And you’ll always have me. Because I love and care about you and I never want anything bad to happen to you. You’re important to me. And you deserve everything good in this world.”

It takes Luxx a moment to realize that Marcia was right. She did have her. Through everything that had ever happened. Through shitty boyfriends, bad haircuts, panic attacks. And the more she thought about it, Marcia was the only person she needed. Marcia was the only person that Luxx wanted.

Luxx lets out a breath, turning her body on the chair. “Can I kiss you?” Luxx asks, seemingly out of the blue in a hurried tone. Her eyes look at Marcia’s, face plastered with worry.

Marcia’s lips curl into a small smile, nodding. “I’ve been wanting you to ask me that for years.”

#cairo writes #rpdr #rpdr fanfiction #luxxcia #luxx noir london #marcia marcia marcia

[lilaceas]

tear

sky is dark & leopard coat fur in the hills are white sleepy little girl drown betwen fire & an illusion marry me & torture me & fold your wings in a carousel of real horses wild & i pretty if dare to disturb a king of thunderstorm grow up & lie & to nit collapse with open eyes see & what have we done when everyone is full of shit clowns & peaches through millions of buckets a daughter tattoed perfection in her forehead plays as a dead women smashing her own car with one husbands skull—babyblue with velvet eyes; to the singing of mother-bird protection are jesus locked in a jail & not, blaming sweet red tones of her lips & flowery skin on skin make & kill my hit on down & lullaby a magical morning & a terrible night when nightmare woke me two shoots & throat i lied but some secret empty cloud blooms— nest where whore's name same as mine her little one lies. yonder he asked for my number but losing games to watch ginger breads over the casket see a star,—with a twisted gloss rock & roll & robbots song; the soft dew under lingerie a owned hear it calling— & twinkling the night eyelid along. cities full of nails polishes strap your face & door open but nobody came through the window a lover & lancôme gift comes,—gold moon misty wings; all silently kept you out & get down the floor you'd cut this pussy no one will care why the green excepts flies away, it asks, is he sleeping is he moaning why i keep buying lies i'm so blind on the hotel with religion behind my ballerina feet hurting aching & addicted to a metaphor that said snowflakes are the worst & you didn't knew how nice trying is the best when you commit murder for— dreaming awake monsters in my head treasures treating while mother sings? from the north sea glass of floats the sobbing of the waves & valley of shadows the scariest story happens all the time with clocks off that are breaking upon the store & though flowers crown of pain defformity & doctors finally went hospital to come back as dirt & say forgive me they were groaning in anguish they are washing her clothes to see him again for an instant & moaning my name make me feel unreal & sad a tear never left a mark buy me candy & prostitutes i give you eternity & a kiss out your mouth you can tell who am i & why you'd smell so bad from laying with women that looks like me but talk so indifferent you say true she's mine & not you ugly as hell brunette not long hair not my type say no clues i wanted to be around— bemoaning death sentence trying to initiate her lufe you promised me it was destroyed that there's nothing of us in your idiot brain my name are in trash & romance didn't exists. that shall come no more. sleepy & fold your wings,— babyblue will never be babyblue you crazy bitch boy with mournful eyes cutten open & not moaning?—see, i love another man, swinging in nothing & calling me every time you enter in the room where i'm at—where my darling lies. the storm-king speeds up at são paulo from the north europe to-night, & leaves me lonely & not breathing nicotine exhaling money smell & my poetry is for him, god & jesus sing up & down but not sad or blaming some & head on & tornadoes a break is all mother wants in silently bedrooms we lived as we were one & two souls are too less for me pushing me & using me & try me & look me in the face close your eyes when your birthday cames wish my love & its so clear wishes are made to not be realised, i wonder why because you don't touch your cellphone therefore four months ago when i came from ontario eating cookies & drinking chocolate milk missing your warmness & tenderness please don't say you're sorry commiting suicide is a temple not one stays where am i going now i saw you in your car singing & may i just don't need you any more then its fear that make two of us apart this king wild went flight the crown my breasts in snowflakes a drink & i go & i sing too within you & i'm on platforms as ever & find me & cannot remind where am i at am i by your side in the bed sucking your cock with you anesthesy & incounscious better sex.

#writing

[a-wayfairing-stranger]

Keep me safe

Me? Writing angst? is anyone surprised anymore?

TW: Mentions of child sexual assault.

It was meant to be a romantic evening, the first time Somer and Ned sleep together, but ugly memories reer their heads.

Somer paced her chambers, her knees felt wobbly, her mouth dry.

Even with the fire blazing, the room felt cold, there was a snowstorm outside that had kept Lady Stark and her daughters stuck in the village, a blessing in disguise that they had decided to leave Somer at home.

Every now and then Somer got the gut wrenching thought that Catelyn knew about her and Ned, it was something about the way Catelyn talked to her or the way she never seemed to maintain eye contact.

But there wasn't a her and Ned was there? They had just been taking late night walks together, holding hands when no one was looking, hiding in the shadows to exchange kisses. 

Then she had stupidly asked him to visit her tonight, she had a sudden burst of confidence, she wanted to be with him, the way lovers were supposed to be.

Lovers..what did that even mean? 

Normally it goes, courting, marriage, children. 

You become lovers somewhere in between courting and marriage, But how does someone like her court a married man like Lord Stark? 

Gods above she hadn’t even been with a man since her sorry excuse of a husband and that wasn’t exactly a fond memory to look back on. 

The knock at the door made her jump.

“Come in..” she squeaked out, before clearing her throat “Come in.” 

The door opened and Ned walked in, the moonlight caught the snowstorm, causing shadows of snowflakes to dance across his features.

She felt claustrophobic, wrapped up in a shawl and blanket, her nightgown felt too thick, she felt warm.

The door clicked shut, she heard the lock.

“So this is where you live..” Ned chuckled “All alone up here with your flowers and bones.” 

“I like being alone.” 

“After spending all day with Sansa, I understand.”

She chuckled, “She isn’t all bad.”

“Just mostly?” 

She laughed this time, and felt herself relaxing. 

He walked towards her, she felt small around him, in a good way, she felt like if she hugged him tight and close enough, the world outside would cease existing. 

“You okay, sweetheart?”

He smelt of pine trees and firewood.

“Of course.” 

“You don’t seem okay.” 

He took her hand and rubbed his thumb along the back of her hand. “You’re shaking like a leaf.” 

“I’m nervous, I don’t…” She swallowed “I mean, I do want to do this. I'm not having second thoughts or anything I just don’t..I’m not exactly well practiced in this.” 

“Of course.” He brought her hand up to his lips and planted a kiss “You can send me away if you wish.”

“No..”

She stepped forward “I want you here.”

She took his other hand “I want you.” 

He pulled her close and let her hand go, to place it on her waist, she let his hand go and placed it around his neck, he gazed down at her, his eyes soft.

“You look beautiful.”

“You always say that.”

“It's the truth.”

He leaned down and kissed her, he tasted of fire smoke and wine, smokey and sweet. 

It was a proper kiss, he relaxed into it, squeezing her waist with his hand, she pulled him closer, tangling her fingers in his hair, soft under her fingers. 

He pulled away, smiling.

“My beautiful witch..”

“Witch?” She giggled

“Who else keeps animal skulls in their bedroom?”

“This is my front room.” She gestured to the curtain separating her bed and her dressing area from where she sat to read or eat, not that she got much chance, she was always at Sansa’s side “My bed’s over there.” 

“Is that a hint, Lady Ayfeld?”

“To be fair, I’m cold and my bed is far warmer.”  

She took his hand again, and led him towards the thick heavy velvet curtain, she slid open the curtain, her bed was next to a window, where she could, on a normal day, watch the sun rise, she kept her bed covered in furs, it kept her warm and cozy. 

“You’re wrapped in so many layers I’m surprised you can move at all.” 

“Is your next line going to be how you can help relieve that burden?” 

“It was going to be.”

He bent down and kissed her neck, he slid the blanket off her shoulders and threw it on to the bed, then her shawl, he laughed against her skin

“It's like opening a present, is that a better line?” 

“I would expect you to have a better way with words.”

“I’m far better with actions.” 

“Can we at least do said actions, in bed?” 

“Alright.”

Somer climbed into the bed and settled under the covers, as Ned took off his boots and outerwear, he got in beside her, she felt the warmth radiating off him.

“Am I moving too fast for you, Ri?” 

“I told you, I want this.”

She leaned over and kissed him, she climbed into his lap, which made his eyebrows raise.

“I want you.”

He put his hands on her waist again and tightened his grip

“Say that again.”

She could feel him getting hard beneath her, it made her feel giddy, that she was making him feel like this, it felt nice to feel wanted.

“I..” she wiggled her hips “Want..” She did it again. “You.” 

“You really are a witch..” 

He kissed her, moving his hands from her waist to up and under her nightgown, his hands were rough on her skin, his beard tickled her cheeks and chin.

He traced up her legs, and over the curve of her backside, where they lingered.

“You have bewitched me, body and soul.”  

At the feeling of her hands on him she suddenly felt scared, like she was falling down a flight of stairs or a bottomless pit.

“I don’t know if I can…do this.”  

She felt scared, she was fourteen again.

“Ri?” 

Her heart was pounding in her ears, and against her ribs, trying to escape from her body.

She climbed off over him

“I can’t…I thought I could but I can’t.” 

In her head she relived all the times she’d said no and been ignored, how many times she’d cried.

“Okay..” Ned’s voice was soft. “It's alright, I understand.” 

Her limbs were shaking, she felt sick. 

“Here.”

He grabbed her blanket and put it around her shoulders

“Somer…breathe.” He kept his voice quiet “I can leave, if you wish me too.”

She pulled the blanket tightly around her

“stay..please…I just can’t..”

“I understand.”  

Ned put her arms around her, and she flinched, he pulled back.

He was Ned, he wasn’t Lorgon Lash, he was as far from that disgusting worm sorry excuse of a man as anyone could be, he was soft, he was protective, he was warm and loving, he was soft chuckles and eyes that crinkled when he smiled.

“I’m sorry.”

She curled into him

“You have nothing to be sorry for.” He put his arms back around her “I understand that your past has soured all experiences.”  

“The first time..I…I clawed at his arms to try and get him to stop…he broke my fingers.” 

She gripped at the blanket, thick wool in a dark forest green.

“He wouldn’t even look at our babies..called them…deformed freaks of nature.” She fought the urge to cry “He wouldn’t even name them..”

“How many did you have?”

“Three, two girls and a boy…” 

“You must miss them.”

“How can you miss what you never had?” 

“They were still your children, Ri.” He sighed “For you to go through that, at such an age…No older than Sansa..”

“Why do you think I am so protective of her?” She rested her head on his chest “She and Ari, They deserve so much more than what the world can offer.” 

“And so do you.” he kissed the top of her head “You deserve better.”

“I have better, I have you.”

She hadn’t meant to say that, the words tumbled out without her permission.

“Yes, you do.” He pulled her close, and grabbed the covers to put over her “I’ll keep you safe, always, my little witch.”

#OC: Somer Ayfeld #Ned stark x ofc

[milkb0nny]

can we have samuel x reader on a picnic

(｡･ω･｡)

heck yes! Finally I can make Samuel less of an ass and more of a perfect ass boyfriend! 😭🌼💕 This will be wholesome! >:3

Picnic dates are my one and go! If you have any other character you wanna suggest GO FOR IT! 🌼 I'll absolutely love to write it.

｡･ﾟ♡ﾟ･｡🍈｡･ﾟ♡ﾟ･｡ 🍐｡･ﾟ♡ﾟ･｡🍈｡･ﾟ♡ﾟ･｡🍐｡･ﾟ♡ﾟ･｡

𝗦𝗮𝗺𝘂𝗲𝗹 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝗵𝗶𝘀 𝘀/𝗼 𝗼𝗻 𝗮 𝗽𝗶𝗰𝗻𝗶𝗰 𝗱𝗮𝘁𝗲

webtoon lookism: Samuel Seo

｡･ﾟ♡ﾟ･｡🍈｡･ﾟ♡ﾟ･｡ 🍐｡･ﾟ♡ﾟ･｡🍈｡･ﾟ♡ﾟ･｡🍐｡･ﾟ♡ﾟ･｡

Inviting you to join him:

🍈 Usually Samuel is a more business like when it comes to dates. Taking you out for dinner or dragging you on some business trips was your way to spent time with your boyfriend. But this time he asked you something completely out of the ordinary: "Darling, do you want to do a picnic with me?"

🍈 Of course you agree to that and more than happy, plan cute ouftits you're gonna wear. An adorable green coat or white loafers? What about a golden necklace? You never spent so much thoughts into an outfit. This date will be special.

🍈 He picks you up in his car but you can't find any clues for a picnic. You worry a little that he just joked with you, but his outfit is more chill and comfortable than usual. Luckily for you, he stops before a small forest and takes you with him. You don't know it yet, but he prepared everything in beforehand.

He wears this to your picnic date (reference):

🍈 A casual look is rare for his expensive appearance. But on a picnic date everything is a little easier and a suit isn't suited for it. He wanted to surprise you with his clothes.

🍈 His red sweater will be yours in the end of the day. He wears a shirt underneath. Because you begged him for that cherry red piece of clothing, he gifted it to you. He's wholesome with you alone. All his negative characteristics vanish when he's around you.

This is where he takes you:

🍈 Samuel walks to you to a beautiful lake where some frogs and ducks have a great time. You're happy he prepared so much for the date and for you. It cheers you up, making you really glad your boyfriend can leave his attitude behind.

🍈 He prepared pillows, extra blankets and everything you both need. He snacked you favorite books before you noticed. For more you couldn't wish - it was a perfect spot, under a beautiful tree and the sun made it warm enough to drink some cold beverages.

🍈 It's gonna be about lunchtime when you two arrive and early evening when you head back home. It's a long time but you enjoy every single second with him.

🍈 The fresh smell of water and blooming flowers supports the dreamlike place. Samuel's cologne gets overpowered by nature itself - not that you mind it.

This is the food and drinks you both eat:

🍈 Tasty crackers and expensive cheese will stand there, connected with pricey wine (or rich orange juice, if you dislike alcohol).

🍈 He also got you your favorite type of bread and good ham to eat it with. He won't tell you, but I will now: he notes down good you really enjoy to remember how to surprise you. It's a small action Samuel does whenever you say "delicious". You deserve the best of the best; your his partner after all.

🍈 Red velvet cake for the both of you. That was a suggestion you made and he was in charge of getting one. Sweet and delicious desserts cheer you up and he loves seeing you smile with these red happy cheeks.

🍈 Fruits will be there too. Samuel doesn't care too much about your diet. Making sure you get enough vitamins is his second job though. You had to smile when you saw the grapes and some green apples in a basket.

This is how the picnic goes:

🍈 The picnic goes well; Samuel is really happy. He watches you feed ducks, point at butterflies and reading your favorite book. He wanted to get you out of the stressful city life for once. The reason why he didn't suggest a picnic earlier was the pressure he had as well. This date lived longer in his head than you imagine.

🍈 He will play some music and dance with you around the lake, leaving every worry behind. It frees you and you look like a perfect matching couple, swinging around and laughing.

🍈 As always, this man showers you in compliments and adores every single thing of you. If you have long hair, he will braid it and if you have short hair, he'll go through it with his gentle fingers while he talks to you.

🍈 You also play some card games; UNO or blackjack. You feel like you're teenagers again.

🍈 The picnic becomes a lovely memory the both of you share. Kisses, a lot of laughing and in general really wholesome vibes. You won't drink much alcohol either and the fresh air blows negative energy out of your bloodstream.

🍈 In general, it was a great date and you're happy to have someone special. Samuel has many sides; some are very stern and strict about work, others are more gentle and open minded. In the end he's a good boyfriend to you, and only you. You're aware of his God complex (as I call it) but you don't feel it at all. Rather, you're his majesty.

🍈 the picnic allows you to speak about deeper thoughts. The calming environment you are in makes you feel save. In all the work you do, you rarely speak about your inner feelings and what's been bothering you. Samuel is grateful you share your thoughts with him and he feels how you enjoy the resting weather and aura. He will talk to you about bothers of his as well but he won't go too deep; some things are better unsaid and some things you don't need to know.

🍈 Samuel will nap for about an hour when he notices you're deep invested in your book. You took a picture of him and of course he looked flawless. Samuel laughs when you show it to him after he woke up. His heart ticks for you and you taking pictures of him makes him shine bright.

🍈 Be aware his flirty personality won't go away just because you're at a wholesome place. He'll neck and peck you, kiss you and tease you as you're used to it.

｡･ﾟ♡ﾟ･｡🍈｡･ﾟ♡ﾟ･｡ 🍐｡･ﾟ♡ﾟ･｡🍈｡･ﾟ♡ﾟ･｡🍐｡･ﾟ♡ﾟ･｡

#webtoon #lookism #lookism hcs #samuel seo #samuel seo x reader #webtoon lookism #lookism headcanons #samuel #jake kim

[earlgreydream]

little one.

| marauders era!lucius malfoy x reader | smut | fluff |

anon requested. something with Lucius Malfoy?I really love the idea of him having a muggle mistress and actually being in love for the first time.

cw: slight ddlg, d/s, innocence kink,

“Come here, little one,” Lucius called to you, leaning back on his chair.

You got up from where you’d been sitting on the bed, running to him. Your feet quietly smacked the carpet, and he smiled at your sweet innocence.

You climbed up into his lap, smiling shyly. His nimble fingers slid over the shimmering tights on your legs, going under your skirt and squeezing your bum.

“Did you finish your charms homework?”

“Yes, daddy,” you nodded proudly and he pinched your thigh as you climbed off to get your homework.

You squealed at the action, making Lucius smirk at you. You gathered the assignment, sitting back down on his lap. Your back was to his chest this time, and he looked over your shoulder, proofreading the paper.

“It looks good, baby. You payed attention during tutoring.”

“Want to be good for you,” your voice was soft and meek.

“I want to spoil you,” Lucius set your papers aside and wrapped his arms around your waist, kissing the back of your neck. You giggled and he started undoing the buttons on your blouse, slipping it off your body.

He pushed you up to stand, turning you around to face him. His eyes scanned up your body, admiring you in your green plaid skirt and white lace bra. He pulled your hips forward and kissed your navel, and you lightly ran your fingers through his white-blonde hair, the diamond bracelet he gave you brushing against his cheekbone.

You were dripping in diamonds and gold, utterly spoiled by Lucius and his wealth. He loved to dress you up in pretty things, seeing you walk around in everything he bought for you.

“Pretty girl,” he slid your tights off your legs, careful not to tear them. He knew you were fond of the shimmering ones, and he carefully helped you step out of them.

He lifted his hips to pull off his clothing, leaving him in only his white button-down and emerald green tie. You went to pull off your skirt and he caught your wrist, tugging you forward to straddle his lap.

“Leave it on. M’going to fuck you in it, little one,” Lucius watched you shiver at his words. A shy blush creeped onto your cheeks, never used to the way he spoke to you.

He lifted the fabric to see you, seeing the sopping white lace that barely covered you. He traced his fingertip over the fabric, teasing you to get you to whimper.

“Please, daddy! I’ve been good,” you begged him, pulling your lip between your teeth.

“I know you’ve been good. Daddy’s so proud of you. I told you I was going to spoil you,” Lucius hummed, kissing up your tummy to your chest.

He pulled your thong to the side and carefully brushed the head of his cock between your folds. You tried not to squirm, putting your hands on his biceps to hold yourself steady.

He pierced into you slowly, pulling your hips down against his as you sank onto him. Lucius loved the sounds of your breathy gasps, and his head leaned back as he felt your velvet walls squeeze around him. You were warm and soft, and he wished he could spend his entire life inside of you.

“Daddy, can I move?” You asked sweetly, and he grinned at how obedient you were for him.

“Yes, little love,” he helped you, supporting your weight as you rolled your hips, watching your tits bounce. Your soft whimpers had him thrusting up to meet you, and he dropped a hand under your skirt, rubbing small circles on your clit. You moaned and bounced faster on him, chasing your release. 

“Come for me, I’ve got you,” Lucius whispered, giving you a kiss. Your hips stuttered against his, and he felt you dripping down onto his lap as your legs trembled. You gripped his white shirt, moaning and whimpering as you rode through the waves of your orgasm. 

Your tight heat squeezing around him pulled Lucius over the edge, and he held your hips still as he came, making you cry out. You dropped your head onto his shoulder as he spilled into you, the sensation spreading warmth through your body. You didn’t care about the mess you were making, your body stilling against his. He stayed buried inside of you, his hands skimming lightly up and down your back as a peacefulness settled over you. You felt him kiss the side of your head, and you snuggled deeper into his body. 

“Let’s clean you up, little one,” Lucius slid out of you, making you whimper at the emptiness. He hushed you softly and undressed you before taking you to the deep bathtub in the ensuite.

The water was filled with expensive bath salts and oil, relaxing your muscles and making you smell like flowers. Lucius was in behind you, massaging you with soap and cleaning you up. You loved when he was sweet and took care of you, making you feel like a princess.

“Any soreness?” Lucius asked, brushing a stray hair from your face.

“No, daddy,” you giggled as he kissed your cheeks, a smile breaking onto his face. White waves framed his high cheekbones, making him look almost elven. Silver eyes shone as he gazed at you in adoration, his heart completely soft for you.

“I’ve got something for you since you’ve been so good.”

“Yeah?”

“Mmhm,” his lips molded against yours, warm and soft. You hummed against him, and he smiled. You let him towel you off and wrap you in the warm, fluffy towels while he retrieved a white box wrapped in a silver bow.

An excited grin spread across your face, and he watched you as you untied the ribbon and lifted the top of the box off. You lifted white silk pajamas out of the box, your initials embroidered on the pocket. Lucius helped you into them, and you spun around for him to model the gift.

“My gorgeous girl,” he pulled you into his arms, cradling you against his body. 

You slept in his arms, your hand resting on his chest, manicured nails lightly tracing the stitching on his shirt as you drifted off. He listened to your steady breathing and heartbeat, falling deeper in love with you.

#lucius #lucius malfoy #lucius x reader #lucius malfoy x reader #lucius x reader smut #lucius malfoy x reader smut #lucius malfoy smut #lucius smut #marauders era lucius #marauders lucius #marauders era #harry potter #female reader #hogwarts

[peakyblinders1919]

The Shelby's First Thanksgiving

“This is preposterous.”

“Now that’s just plain rude Thomas Shelby. I don’t go parading around saying Boxing Day is preposterous. No one actually boxes.”

“You think Boxing Day… is a day… everyone in England puts on some tape and gloves… and just… knocks the crap out of each other?” He inquires over his cigarette smoke.

“Yes,” she says simply.

“So… on this… Thanksgiving… do you just… thank people?”

“Precisely. And eat. A lot.”

“I really think you should reconsider…”

“I love your family Thomas. You make them sound so… un-sophisticated. Besides, it’s not like I haven’t had dinner with them before. I’m

“Not all of them.”

“Trust me Thomas, what could go wrong?”

The table in the dining room mirrors their wedding night; a table of up to 20 stretching the length of the room. Crystal goblets and wine glasses, sterling silver silverware set up at every table setting. Gold china saucers sit atop bigger plates, crimson red velvet placemats underneath. Place cards in calligraphy mapping out everyone’s dutifully hand-picked seat at the table. She argues with Mary about the centerpiece of days, but of course, Mrs. Shelby is always the one to come out on top; a hand-made cornucopia over flowering with vegetables and fruits spilling out onto the table tastefully.

“Don’t you think this is a bit overboard?” Tommy stands in the entryway, solidifying his cufflink in place. He regrets it immediately. If it’s what she wants, then it’s what she’ll have. “It looks lovely. I hope you're not emotionally invested in any of this…”

“You make it seem like an all-out war is going to happen across the table. Relax. Just enjoy the food and leave everything else to me.” She kisses his sweet lips, puts the finishing touches on the table, and confirms the traditional menu all before the bell rings.

“I’m telling ya, Jimmie Barnes was seen taking a whore down the alleyway last night.”

“What he does on his own time is ‘is own damn business. All the men of Birmingham would be locked up and dirt ass broke if it was a big deal.”

“Happy Thanksgiving!” She welcomes her guests, taking John and Arthur’s coat, their wives and children following behind. The men share a look of disdain. Her heart warms, her worries settle as they thank her and wish her the same, though grumbled. It’s good in and of itself that she didn’t notice Tommy standing behind her, coaxing his brothers on.

“What an odd holiday, huh? Thanking others? For what?”

“For not being dead as a start,” she quipped back, kissing Esme on the cheek, the men already one their way to the destination set in mind; the whiskey cabinet.

“You know, if you really want to discuss the political and morality of sex workers, you could start by asking that secretary of yours.”

“And hello to you too Ada,” Mrs. Shelby greets her sister-in-law with wide eyes.

“Oh hello, hun. You’ve really outdone yourself, haven’t you?”

“It’s my favorite holiday.” She shrugs, as if the preparation, the flawless table spread, didn’t take hours upon hours of time and dedication.

“I’ll be asking you again after dinner, hm?”

Closing the door to keep the chill out of the house, she joins the family gathered in the lounge with glasses full of alcohol, earthy cigar smoke scenting the room.

“Who’re we waiting for?”

“Johnny and his tribe will arrive late; you can count on it,” Tommy informs.

“I was sure Polly would have been the first one here-” John points out.

“Yeah well, you can all bloody blame Michael for that.” Polly’s brassy voice fills and silences the room. Obviously, she’s not in a celebratory mood. “Him and that brother of yours,” she jobs at Tommy, “decided to have a night out on the town. They’re disgustingly hungover and they’ll get here when they get here. Make sure to give them hell.”

The room remains silent for a few minutes, she retreats from the silence to check on the food. Tommy takes the opportunity to lit up.

“Alright, everyone bloody listen up, hm? Now, I don’t want to hear any of you complain, or call this holiday a waste of fucking time-”

“But that’s what it is?”

“How is this different from any other Sunday night dinner?”

“Shut the fuck up and listen.” He takes back command of the room. “No fighting. No fighting. No cocaine. No talk of politics, no talk of business, you fucking understand?”

“What are we allowed to talk about Thomas?” Esme snorts.

“Drink the fucking wine, eat the fucking bird, sing your merry songs or whatever Y/N wants of you and then you can all be on your fucking way.”

“Thanksgiving dinner’s served.” She announces with a smile.

“So… uh… tell me…. How did Thanksgiving become a holiday?”

“Guilt trip.” Michael mumbles, having shown up alongside Finn and Isaiah right in between dinner and dessert.

“Shut up. You lived in America for about a year, you're not a bloody American.”

“Suit yourself.” He grumbles, Polly, hitting him, sending him to sit up straighter.

“It’ll do you fucking good to remember that Michael.” Polly scolded.

She cleared her throat. “Actually, it was a sign of gratitude. To thank the Native Americans for showing the English how to grow food and survive off the land.”

“The land we stole from them.” Ada interjects. “Their land that we burned.”

“Well, it’s more like they lived in harmony.”

“Until the English colonized and totally pushed them out.”

Tommy cleared his throat. “Let’s talk about something else, aye?”

“The phone’s for you sir,” Mary whispered in Thomas’s ear as the rest of the family reminisced about the last race at Cheltenham and whether it was fixed or not.

“Not now Mary-“

“It’s urgent sir.” He agrees with a sigh, kissing his wife’s temple with a promise to be back soon.

Not soon enough.

When he returns, the Shelby chaos is in full swing. Half the table is very obviously upset, brought to tears. Tommy catches a clip of the conversation:

Ada- “You’re too young.”

Polly- “You don’t know this girl.”

Finn- “I know her enough to marry her. I want to marry her. I’m going to propose.”

Ada and Polly- “No your not!”

Another argument is happening in the middle of the table, Esme and Linda yelling about God, Esme is so bent out of shape she’s speaking in tongue.

John and Arthur have moved around the table so they are across from each other, hands locked in arm wrestle stance. There’s a big victory and even bigger loss as Arthur slams Johnny’s fist against the table, knocking over glasses and plates breaking with a smash. Michael and Isaiah sander back into the room from the bathroom, obviously drunk and high as they take platefuls off thirds and fourths.

“Oh Thomas…” she cried by his side, innocent bystanders to this.

“Still like Thanksgiving ?” He asked a malicious hint of I-told-you-so etched on his lips.

“I’m thankful for you.”

#peaky blinders fanfiction #peaky blinder imagine #peaky blinders fanfic #peaky blinders imagines #thomas shelby #john shelby #Arthur shelby #polly gray #michael gray #finn shelby #tommy shelby imagine #tommy shelby fanfic

[clonecyare]

I Can Handle Myself

Summary: You were perfectly capable of handling yourself when it came to matters of your safety. But that would never stop Fox from doing his part.

Pairing: Commander Fox x senator!reader

Tags: assination attempts, protective fox, senator!reader, republic gala, canon typical violence/shenanigans, banter, secret relationship, kissing, suggestive ending,

Word Count: 1.8k

A/N: The 2nd instalment of my outfit series. This one is based on this outfit submitted by @murdertoothpick for Fox. Each fic in the series can be read as stand-alone fics.

1st instalment: Playing a Dangerous Game - Captain Rex x medic/!reader

|| Masterlist || Tag list ||

----

“I am going to say this one more time, Commander. I do not need a babysitter for this Gala, I am more than capable of handling myself.” You said matter-of-factly as you walked through the halls of the senate, datapad in hand, tapping perhaps a little passive-aggressively on the screen.

Commander Fox chuckled under his bucket, and you narrowed your eyes at him.

“With all due respect, Senator, you were the target of an assassination attempt 4 days ago.”

“And I survived. Nobody would be stupid enough to try a second attempt at Republic Gala, not with the Senate present.”

Fox chuckled and fell in step with you, bumping shoulders with you as you walked. “Maybe so, but it’s the wishes of the Chancellor that you have a member of the Guard escort you, while the rest patrol the Gala.”

You stopped outside the entryway to your office and put one hand on your hip, datapad and a stack of flimsi files clutched under one arm and pointing accusingly at Fox with the other from behind the death grip you had on your caf. “You’re enjoying this.”

You nodded politely to Hound who had been standing guard at your office, and he saluted with a polite, “Ma’am.” He took his leave as Fox took his place, leaning against the doorway with his head tilted as you punched in the keycode. The doors slid open, and he followed you inside, removing his bucket with a gentle hiss and holding it under his arm against his hip.

You couldn’t help but stare a little, just briefly. He was sporting a few soft grey hairs at the sides of his neatly trimmed hair. It made him appear just a slight bit older and more sophisticated, the neat locks of loose hair framing his handsome face.

“Perhaps a little. I do get quite the kick of you not getting your own way.”

His smug comment brought your attention back to the present and you muttered something in response with narrowed eyes. Dropping the stack of files and the datapad on your desk, you hopped up to sit on the edge and crossed one knee over the other. The lightweight fabric of your skirt sported a high slit, exposing the skin of your legs and upper thigh.

You sighed, resigned to your fate and leaned back on one palm, swirling the steaming caf in your paper takeaway cup.

“Who will be my knight in shining red armour, then?”

You asked as you blew on the hot caf and took a sip.

Fox, whose eyes has been previously occupied following the slit of your skirt up to your thigh, snapped out of his daydream and plastered a handsome smirk on his face.

“Oh, that would be me. I’ll pick you up at 7 sharp, mesh’la.”

“Wha-” You did a rather ungracious spit take withyour coffee, as the Commander slid his helmet back on and moved through your office doors with one final look back at you.

“Oh, and don’t be late.”

----

Leaning into the mirror you carefully applied the deep crimson red lipstick, treating the task with the utmost delicacy, lest you waste your look entirely. You stepped back once you were through and took a moment to admire your handiwork.

Dressed head to toe in deep, rich red tones and soft fabrics, you felt you had outdone yourself this time. If you were to be on your Commander’s arm all evening, the least you could do was make an effort, right?

You smirked softly, tilting your head in the mirror. Yeah, this would show him.

You had decided to go for an elegant gown for this evening, floor-length and a deep wine red in colour. The upper portion was a bodice lined with velvet and fitted to your body, with sleek black linear detailing down the front. Around the upper edge and over the shape of your chest was lined with intricate gold detailing.

In the centre of your chest, just under the hollow of your throat, sat a delicate golden brooch, which held from each side 2 long strips of the same wine-red material from your dress, draped prettily back over your shoulders, accentuating your chest and neck.

You had chosen several simple gold jewellery items, and tied your hair up into an intricate bun, completing your look and signature red lip. You were just touching up the corners of your lipstick when there was a firm knock at your door.

You headed for the door, opening it with a smile.

“Good evening, Commander.”

You smiled, voice sweet like honey. Your Commander, to your delight, was stood frozen in the doorway looking at you. In one hand he held the cap of his dress greys and in the other, a bouquet of Queen’s Heart flowers.

“Fox?”

You smiled softly and reach a hand out to touch his forearm. The gentle touch broke him from his stare and he quickly cleared his throat, offering you the bouquet with a bow. “For you.”

You smiled and took them with a courtesy, “they’re beautiful, come in, let me find a spot for them.” You stepped aside to let him in, finding the perfect spot for the flowers on your table.

When you turned back, Fox was watching you again, though this time he was smiling handsomely. You smiled back, “well, how do I look?”

“Mesh’la. Truly mesh’la.” He smiled as he offered his arm. Your cheeks flamed a pretty pink, bringing a satisfied smirk to the Commander’s face as you slid your arm through his own.

You locked up the apartment and made your way strangely quiet Senate District. The air was crisp against your skin, cooling the warmth you felt where you were brushing arms with the soldier lightly.

“You know, you clean up pretty well outside of all that plastoid.”

You smiled playfully, looking up at him. He smiled back, chuckling and shaking his head lightly, hair bouncing lightly in the gentle breeze. “Is that so?”

“Mhmm. I would go so far as to say a 10/10.”

Fox groaned deeply in his chest, head hanging sightly. You swore it was to hide his smile.

“I hate you.”

You smiled fondly and pressed into his side, free hand resting on his arm that was holding yours.

“No, you don’t.”

----

Perhaps you may have been wrong about the Gala. Fox had his reputation for being a little… prickly, at the best of times. But, as the over the top affairs go, the Commander had proven himself quite the charmer.

He has stayed dutifully by your side most of the evening, So, having a bodyguard was, as it turned out, a blessing in disguise - though you would never admit as much to anyone else. Far fewer senatorial aides tried to approach you upon spotting the head of the Coruscant Guard on your arm. Even several of the more conservative senators passed you by upon receiving his death glare.

At one point, towards the end of the evening, you had even managed to convince the stoic Commander to join you on the ballroom floor to dance. Well, sway, would be more accurate. The two of you moved around the room in a gentle sway, you humming softly along to the tune while Fox rested his cheek atop your head.

You raised your glass of Algarine wine to your lips in an almost mini toast, “Well Commander, it seems we had noth-”

Your words died in your throat as the glass suddenly shattered in your hand. The blaster bolt that has cause it clipped your right cheek, leaving a trail of blood in its wake. A roar of commotion suddenly filled the room, with several masked individuals pushing through the crowd. Most of the shots were trained on you, but you now noticed a group of them firing off into the guests as a distraction.

“Get down. Now!”

Fox barked, crowding you to the floor. Thire and Thorn were already pushing through the crowds, firing at 2 of the intruders and calling in backup.

“Commander!”

Hound threw Fox’s blasters towards him and took off after one of the assailants, Stone calling for backup. The leader of the group was faster, though, taking another shot that you managed to dodge as Fox tackled him, throwing himself between you and the hitman, and knocking his blaster from his hands. The pair wrestled for the single DC-17 that had fallen between them, each landing several punches.

In the end, the hitman got the upper hand. Blood rushed to your ears, cancelling out the commotion behind you. As soon as he pulled the pistol on the Commander, you were behind him, panting heavily, pistol to the back of his head.

“Drop it. Now. I promise I’m faster.”

Fox looked at you with wide eyes, before the dropped to your exposed thigh and the small holster secured around your upper thigh, soft brown irises slowly darkening. Discreet, made for a small pistol like an ELG-3A.

The man dropped the blaster and Fox grabbed him by the scruff of the neck, binding his wrists and looking over his shoulder at you with a chuckle as he pushed the man towards one of the Corries that had arrived.

The room was emptying now, only a few shaken aides left milling around, and few vod who were cleaning up and securing the room. Fox lifted a hand to brush a few hairs back behind your ear, and you smiled.

“I told you I could handle myself.”

Fox laughed, holding your cheek as his calloused thumb swiped over your cheek, wiping away the trail of blood. “Yes, you most certainly did, cyar’ika.”

You turned your cheek into his palm and pressed a light kiss, looking up at him.

Fox took one precursory look around the ballroom and bent down, kissing you hard. It wasn’t soft or sweet like you knew they could be. It wasn’t careful and quick, like so many of your kisses had to be in order to remain a secret.

It was rushed, and desperate. You could practically feel the adrenalin rolling off him in waves. It was an oddly comforting feeling, one you had grown to know only too well. The kind Fox radiated after gruelling sessions guarding the Senate. Or after the occasional run-in with the cesspool of Coruscant’s underworld.

But it was most notable in these moments. When you had found a way to put yourself in the firing line again. When he couldn’t let his mask slip, when he couldn’t treat you as more than a senator under his protection. When all he could do was his job.

It was these moments afterwards that he needed you the most, that you needed him. It was in these moments, you knew exactly what you both needed.

You broke away, eyes never leaving his own as you took his arm.

“Take me home, Fox.”

----

Tag list:

@captainrexsfuturewife

#Star wars #star wars fanfiction #my writing #the clone wars #the bad batch #sw the clone wars #sw the bad batch #sw tcw #sw tbb #tcw #tbb #star wrs the clone wars #star wars the bad batch #commander fox #commander fox x reader #fox x reader #coruscant guard #commander thire #commander thorn #commander stone #seargent hound

[falconcoast]

Hiya! Huge congrats on 800!! Wooo wooo!!💜

I know it’s your example, but I’d love to see Kaeya + how they propose if possible? 🥺

rules for requesting here! 

kaeya + proposals 

he knows that you’re the one. 

anyone could glance at kaeya and see how much he adored you. there were hearts in his eyes, an adoring smile on his lips, and flowery words blooming in his mind. the entire world knows that you’re the one for kaeya. 

until you came along, he had little thought of marriage. maybe the occasional comment from the elderly citizens, or a flirt from a drunkard at angel’s share, but he always had an excuse. 

the first was that he was simply not made for settling down or a relationship at all. like his city, he was guided by the wind. the wind had no time to slow down for him, always pushing him to greater heights. until, of course, he laid his eyes on your for the first time. 

the second was that he was too busy; there was no way that he could invest into a relationship right now. maybe later, when the wind of his youth had died down. that was, until he found himself making time for you. in fact, he would often slack on his duty to go see your smiling face.  

the last was that he was unlovable. despite having the entirety of mondstadt wrapped around his finger, there was a gnawing voice in his head telling him otherwise. if you could see all of him, would you still accept him for who he was? the vulnerable kaeya hiding behind an elaborate mask, one who was scared of losing everything, losing you. until, of course, you shut him up with a kiss and said you would love him forever, no matter what.

he would’ve asked for your hand in marriage right then and there if he had a ring. 

as you both walked up cape oath, hand in hand, he now had a ring. it was a silver ring with a smattering of jewels, one that would look beautiful on your fourth finger. you talked eagerly about small things; what you ate for lunch, the bouquet of flowers that flora had randomly (truth be told, kaeya ordered those for you), given you, and the way that diluc was surprisingly extra nice to you today. 

“and would you look at the sky, too!” you exclaimed, turning around abruptly. he did as you said, observing the pink and orange hues painting the heavens above. the clouds are lined with the faintest tints of peach and gold and mondstadt’s street lamps flicker on as the sun set beyond the horizon. “you know, today has been perfect. i’ve been very lucky today, and now i get to spend it with my sweetheart. nothing could make it better, don’t you think, kaeya?” 

there’s a suddenly a switch that goes off in the cavalry captain’s head; it’s time. quickly, as you’re busy looking at the sunset, he shuffles the small velvet box out of his pocket and gets down on one knee. 

“what if you don’t say yes?” he silently asks himself, swallowing dryly. the thought bounces back in forth in his head before you begin to turn around. he nearly freezes, before shyly looking up at you. 

“kaeya, are you al--” the words come to an abrupt stop as you gasp, half-heartedly covering your mouth. he knows instantly that there are stars in your eyes and that you’re pleasantly surprised; satiating the question in his head. “oh, sweet barbatos.” 

“you’re essential to my life,” he says, looking at you with earnest eyes. “every waking moment of the day, i think about you. i can’t help but miss you when you’re away from my side.

“i want to fix that. i want to be your side for a lifetime, y/n, and i wish for you to take me as your husband,” he states, eyes bright. you’re still standing in shock, tears welling up in your eyes. “i know i’m nowhere near perfect, but you have accepted me for who i am nonetheless. i can only hope that if you accept my proposal, i’ll be able pay you back your kindness with my entire life.” 

the flowery words come to a halt as his hands pry open the small, velvet box revealing the small ring inside. “i love you,” he breathes out. “will you marry me?” 

#genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #kaeya x reader #kaeya alberich x reader #genshin impact imagines

[sarah-bae-maas]

Gwyn wants to explore, and Azriel needs a friend - a Gwynriel fic - Part 1

In honour of this blog turning five years old, I thought I would treat you all to a two part/chapter Gwynriel fic that has been wandering around in my brain throughout countless days of lockdown and tortuous university classes. 

I’m already well underway with part 2 of this fic, but I do have some assignments coming up, so expect it within the fortnight! 

So please do enjoy this nearly 15k words worth of Gwynriel goodness <3

Masterlist Ao3

_____________

She was staring at him.

Again.

Azriel had always paid special attention to Gwyn – not that he would tell her that, of course. It was a secret held deep in his shadows that she was his favourite Valkyrie, the one he thought the most brave and resilient. It would not be an unpopular opinion if he did share it, the other women looked at her with great admiration, and Nesta often sung her praises when the female wasn’t there to refute her words. But Azriel knew the presumptions people might make if they knew he thought it, and the last thing he wanted was for a misunderstanding to make Gwyn uncomfortable.

Gwyn was holding a bag for Emerie to kick, her stance strong enough that she didn’t flinch at all with each pummel. Her focus should have been on Emerie’s form, but rather her teal eyes were glued to him. Every time Azriel looked over at her, she quickly shifted her gaze to her friend, but his shadows constantly reminded him that Gwyn was once again paying her attention to him.

Cassian called the end of the session. Azriel was grateful, he was finding it harder and harder to train the women effectively when he knew Gwyn was right there.

He practically fled the scene, his cheeks brushed with red, barely nodding to the women who said their thanks to him as he passed. It’s not that he didn’t like her attention, but it made his stomach feel heavy, his hands shake, and he didn’t like how out of control he felt whenever she looked at him like that.

He settled in the dining room. Standing, he braced his hands on the table, a bead of sweat dripping off his forehead and tarnishing the wood. Nesta wouldn’t like if he got his sweat all over the table, even though her and Cassian had coated it in far more scandalous bodily fluids. He should do something productive, like work or eat or pester Rhys and Feyre to have Nyx for the afternoon, but instead he chose to close his eyes and picture the person who’d been haunting him.

He and Gwyn were friends. She was over nearly every night to eat with Nesta, their dinners a sort of lively Azriel hadn’t experienced since he’d lived in Illyria with Rhys and Cas. It was joyful to live in a space filled with such light, but also overwhelming. Azriel found that as much as he loved the time with the rag-tag team they’d made for themselves, his social timer still clicked in his mind as a constant reminder that sometimes dealing with people, even the ones you loved, could be utterly exhausting.

Not with Gwyn though, his shadows lamented, setting him straight. No, Azriel never felt tired with her.

“Az?”

As though his thoughts alone had summoned her, Gwyn’s voice startled him out of his reverie. He turned, his lips parting slightly at the sight of her.

She was still in her training gear – a shirt and pants lovingly stitched by Emerie with embroidered flowers decorating the seams – her neat braid falling around her face, framing her pearlescent skin in fire.

“Gwyneth. Do you need something?”

Her eyes were wide, her hands clasped in front of her as she wrung her fingers. It made Azriel tilt his head in confusion, not understanding why she was so nervous. They spoke every day, she mouthed off at him often, and her shift in confidence had him surprised.

“I have a proposition for you, but you must promise to not tell a soul.”

Azriel raised a brow, leaning back into the table. He spread his hands before him. “I’m listening.”

Gwyn swallowed, her cheeks turning the same shade of red as her hair.

“Imsturbalt,” she squeaked.

“What?”

“I masturbate a lot!” She smacked her hands over her mouth, as if betrayed at the words they spilled.

Azriel’s jaw went slack, his eyes near bugging from his skull. “Okay… that’s good? Self-exploration!” He half-heartedly waved a celebratory fist in the air, not sure what to say to her statement.

She groaned louder than a stabbing victim. “I was thinking that, I didn’t intend to say it aloud.” She rubbed her hands over her face, peeking at him through her fingers. “Please don’t tell anyone I said that.”

“Your secrets are safer with me than they are anyone else.” Azriel smiled, trying to diffuse the obvious tension in her body. “So, your proposition?”

She tensed her jaw, moving her arms behind and looking at the ground as she spoke. “I guess my previous statement that will never be mentioned again to anyone if you like having the functional use of your organsperhaps wasn’t entirely irrelevant to what I’m going to ask you. But I beg, please let me finish before you say anything, and also don’t feel pressured to say yes.”

“Okay.”

“Silence.”

“Yes ma’am.”

She grinned at him, her eyes finally meeting his again. “As you know, better than anyone really, I have a difficult past.”

Azriel wished he could burn the images of finding her on that table from his mind. He’d had to actively teach himself not to envision her crying and screaming for her sister when she’d first became a permanent fixture in House of Wind. He’s seen many horrific things in his time, was no stranger to the worst humanity had to offer, but it was different when it was someone so vulnerable, so selfless, so important to him. It might have made him a bad person that he didn’t equate people’s trauma accordingly, but how could he possibly care for a stranger as much as he cared for Gwyn?

“What happened to me made me fear my body. Fear the sexuality I see women like Nesta and Mor own. They’re so powerful, and the things that have happened to them… They’re not broken. They’re not less. They’re not afraid.” She paused, sighing deeply. “I would never look upon anyone in the library as lesser than because of the things that have happened to them. It wasn’t until I met Nesta and Emerie that I realised I didn’t give myself the same grace. I want to own the parts of me that were stolen. I want to feel like my body belongs to me. I didn’t even know where to begin, but then the House gave me this book, some fluffy romance novel, and the girl in it was just like me. I know it sounds ridiculous, but I just felt so seen. Like the Mother herself had handed this smut piece into my lap to make me feel better.”

Gwyn moved to one of the lounge chairs that Cassian had haphazardly shoved into a corner one night when Nesta didn’t feel like moving from the dining room. Gwyn was effortlessly graceful as she sat and curled her legs up, her head resting on her fist.

“That’s where the masturbating comes in.” Her eyes avoided his again, focusing on patterns her fingers drew in the velvet material of the chair. “The girl in the book did it. She’d never had an orgasm either. So, I did too.” She laughed quietly. “It made me feel good. Not just the physical pleasure part, but the part where it was just me, empowering myself at a pace I was comfortable with.”

Azriel wished he could say something, but one, he knew to be silent and let her have this moment, and two, he didn’t know how to tell someone he was proud of them for touching themselves without it sounding weird. He was proud though, extremely so, at how strong she felt from acting on her wants. Her resilience had always astounded him.

“In the book, the girl meets this man.” Her voice lowered, barely more than a whisper. “He treats her so kindly, in a way that I’ve seen Cassian treat Nesta a million times, in a way I yearn to be treated. I’ve given myself a clean slate. This body, my body, has only been touched by me. I am whole. I was never broken, just healing. And I’m at a stage where I want more. Do you understand what I’m trying to say?”

Azriel wished her could say yes, please the eager note in her voice that hoped he was on the same page as her, but even his shadows were silent to her desires.

She glanced at him just long enough to see him shake his head. She tipped her head back. “When Nesta first started sleeping with Cassian, I was so curious. What were they doing? What was he doing to make her look so satisfied? But when I tried to picture it, my stomach would churn. And then time passed. I grew stronger. I became a Valkyrie. And like many others before me and many more in the centuries to come, I walked in on Cassian and Nesta fucking.”

Azriel inhaled sharply. To hear the vulgarity fucking from a mouth so pure sent a bolt through him, and he chided himself for his inappropriate thoughts during such a serious conversation.

“They don’t know I saw, not that I think they would have minded. I would bet good money that if I asked for a demonstration on pleasurable acts Cassian and Nesta would be more than happy to comply. Where I might have once felt sick from seeing them, instead I felt-”

She cut herself off, looking for the right words.

“I felt burning desire. I’ve never been so envious of someone in my life. I didn’t want to have sex with Cassian, but by the Cauldron I wanted to feel the way that Nesta did. I wouldn’t tell you this if I didn’t know you were such a good secret keeper. Or such a good friend.”

Azriel couldn’t bite his tongue any longer. “Gwyn, what do you want from me?”

“I want you to have sex with me.”

***

Azriel stared at his ceiling, his shadows dancing and rolling around him.

I want you to have sex with me.

He tested the words on his own lips. They tasted sweet. They also brought an uncomfortable amount of pressure to his cock. He refused to touch it though and kept both his hands firmly behind his head.

He’d told Gwyn he needed to think about it, and she understood. She said she didn’t expect an answer from him straight away.

Azriel had a lot to consider.

He was practically titillated that when Gwyn had decided she wanted to explore herself with a male, it was him who she thought of. She expressed that it was because she knew he’d care for her, that he’d respect her and because of how much she trusted him. There were not words to express how hearing such things felt to him. It made him want to do this for her, because his soul be damned he knew he would do right by her. Make her feel good, feel special, feel appreciated.

It would be amiss though not to acknowledge that if he did do this, let her warm his bed while he tasted her, it could ruin not just the friendship they had established but also the dynamic of the house. She had assured him that if his answer was no, they would continue their lives as if the conversation never happened.

Which brought a darker thought to his mind.

If not Azriel, then who? She would surely approach someone else. Someone not deserving of her, who might not treat her how she deserved to be treated. That was not to say Azriel thought that in all his bastardly ways he was what Gwyn should have – no, she deserved more than he could ever give – but at least he knew that she would be safe with him.

The thought of another male’s hands on her made him see red.

That was answer enough.

***

Nesta and Cassian were gone for the weekend, caring for Nyx while Feyre and Rhys had a romantic getaway for the weekend. Azriel secretly thought Nesta was using this as a trial to see if her and Cassian were ready for a baby.

It was the perfect opportunity to have Gwyn join him.

The day after she’d approached him, he’d slipped her a note after training to say that he was all in, and to meet him the next night. He tried not to watch her face as she read the note but couldn’t help it. She went bright pink, but she seemed exhilarated.

And now she was standing in his room.

They nervously looked at each other. Azriel wanted to give her the chance to speak first other than their obligatory greetings, but she was tongue-tied.

“I was thinking we should take this in steps,” Azriel said, sitting on the edge of his bed, watching her refrain from pacing back and forth.

“That seems logical. What sort of steps?”

“I was thinking tonight we take sex off the table.”

“What?” Her face fell, hurt evident in her expression.

“Just for tonight. Gwyn, have you had your first kiss?”

She shook her head no.

“Then maybe we do that. And anything beyond only what you want. I need you to know that you’re in control here. Whatever we do or don’t do is completely your decision.”

She nodded, a small smile gracing her lips. “That sounds reasonable. Like you’re my little puppet.” Her hands mimed using a marionette, and Azriel found it easy to reciprocate her smile.

She moved to his side, planting herself on the bed next to him. He couldn’t help but notice the how good she smelled, how carefully her hair had been arranged and how she’d worn her nicest dress. She had wanted to look good for him, and the thought made his heart squeeze.

He reached out and held the hands she clasped in her lap. It made her look at him, her teal eyes flashing in the room only lit by his fireplace.

“You’re a very good friend, Azriel.”

“Do you want me to kiss you, Gwyn?”

She nodded, turning her body to face him.

He brushed her cheek with his thumb, then her lips, before he settled on cradling her face. She leant her head into his hand, so trusting as she looked at him. His hand was so big that the fingers that lay on her neck could feel her hammering pulse.

She leant in the same time he did.

At first it was just a peck. Their lips brushing against each other’s so gently it made Azriel ache. He pressed his lips to her again, and again, getting her used to the feeling of his lips on hers. She enthusiastically reciprocated, her slender fingers running up his chest before meeting behind his head, tangling themselves in his hair. He smiled against her mouth, pleased at such a reaction when the real kissing had yet to even start.

His grazed his tongue along her lip, and she eagerly opened her mouth, letting his tongue slip inside her. The noise she made at the contact buzzed straight through him, and he was pleasantly surprised when Gwyn, in all her eagerness, took control of him.

She kissed him as though she had done it her whole life, like her mouth belonged on his, and the feel of her delicate tongue made him deepen their kiss, angling her head so they could better feel one another. She was practically leaning back, and if this had been a meaningless one night stand she’d have been on her back by now with Azriel’s mouth between her thighs.

She broke away from him, his mouth instinctively following hers as it wanted more, making her gleam in pride.

“I want to change positions,” she said, her hands still wired into his hair.

“Anything you want,” he replied breathlessly.

Azriel didn’t know what to expect, but it was not her getting up and crawling into his lap. She straddled his thighs, and there was no way she wouldn’t be able to feel his erection pressing against her. He did with his hands what any male would do in this situation, and her giggle was enough to know that she’d wanted him to do that.

“Your hands are on my ass,” she laughed.

“Is that okay?”

“Very much so.” She took a deep breath. “Take your shirt off. Please.”

He obliged.

“And you should – you should take off my dress too.”

“Are you sure?”

“I have a slip on underneath.”

His hands shook slightly as they ran up her sides and to her back, undoing each button on her dress. To give her a more authentic experience, he decided to lean in as he did, kissing a new spot on her neck with each button that came undone.

She raised her arms so that he could slip the dress over her head, and he averted his eyes when her slip rode up with it. He didn’t look back until she had adjusted herself. When he did, he nearly fainted.

She was divine in her beauty. He always saw lovely she was, anyone with eyes would. Her body was lean and tight. Her uniform may have hidden it, but she had the power of any warrior in her body. Azriel wondered if she purposefully hid her strength so that it was a secret part of her arsenal. Smart female.

He ran his hands up her spread legs before planting them back on her ass. Unable to resist, he squeezed his hands, making her groan.

“Your hands feel so good,” she gasped. “Do everyone’s hands feel like that, or is it just you?”

He snickered. “Anyone who is worth their weight knows how to make a female feel good.” He bumped her shoulder with his nose. “What would you like me to do now? Do you want to keep kissing?”

“Fuck yes I want to keep kissing.” She leaned forward, her breasts pressing against his chest as she playfully nipped at his bottom lip. “But maybe we could do other things. Even better things.”

“What do you have in mind?”

Gwyn reached behind her and grabbed one of the hands resting on her behind. For the first time since they’d started, she looked nervous. Her legs were shaking, and Azriel was unsure if it was anxiety or anticipation for whatever she had planned.

She guided his hand under his slip until he was cupping her sex.

“You aren’t.” He swallowed hard. “You aren’t wearing underwear.”

She shook her head playfully. “I didn’t think I would need to.”

She pressed his hand into her, and he moaned at the wetness he found. She was so slick for him already, and all they had done was kiss. He did an exploratory brush through her folds, and as at the tip of his finger grazed over her clit, she arched into him, holding on tight to his shoulders.

He started teasing her, obsessed with the little noises she was making at the back of her throat as he did, but he soon realised something.

Usually, when Azriel was with a female, they got progressively more… turned on. Their bodies would react to his touch, and his fingers would be coated in their juices before he even attempted to enter them with either his fingers or his cock.

Gwyn was not.

It seemed the more he touched her, the more it was like her body didn’t want this. For all intents and purposes, she was… drying up?

His hand went still, and he could feel her body instinctively relaxing as his hand left her pussy.

“Don’t stop,” she whispered, clinging to him.

“You don’t enjoy this.” He made her look him in the eye, and his throat tightened at how she looked. There were tears lining her eyes and a deep furrow on her forehead.

“I do, I promise I do. I’m just nervous. If we – if we just overcome this one thing-”

“No, Gwyn.”

“Please Azriel,” she said desperately, trying to guide his hand back between her thighs.

As gently as he could, he lifted her from his lap and placed her beside him on the bed. Her breath shuddered, and he couldn’t bear the shattered look on her face.

She didn’t say a word, just stood up and tried to locate her dress. Azriel didn’t even know where he had thrown it, but he stood and stopped her from looking anyway.

“Gwyn…” He grasped her hands in his, towering over her as they faced each other. “I want to do this for you, please believe me when I say that. But maybe we just need to take a few more steps first. Do something else before that.”

“What else is there?” She was dejected, her shoulders slumped. “I don’t know what I’m doing Az. And I swear on the Cauldron I want this. Fuck, this is so embarrassing. I’m just so nervous, and I get in my head about everything I do-”

“Hey hey hey, stop that.” He pressed a kiss to her forehead, and the ropable tension in her body started to ease out. She slumped against him, his arms wrapping around her in an embrace. “This is fine. Great, even.”

“You are such a liar.” She sighed, but at least she returned his embrace, tucking herself into him so they were as close as possible.

He tried to think of ways to salvage the night for her, to give her at least a little bit of what she wanted.

An idea sprang to mind.

“Gwyn?”

“Mmm?”

“Get on the bed. Lie down.”

She looked up at him hopefully. She didn’t need to be told twice. She practically flung herself at the bed, laying down on her back and resting her arms above her head. She grinned at him, and he didn’t miss the way she clenched her thighs together than spread them apart like a silent invitation.

Azriel couldn’t help but brighten at her enthusiasm. He undid the buttons on his pants and kicked them down so he was naked before her.

“I thought we weren’t having sex!” She jolted to her side, holding herself up on her arms and staring at his penis, her eyes practically bulging out of her head at the sight of it.

There were many things Azriel did not like about himself. But he had a damn fine cock.

He laughed at the look on her face and shook his head. “We’re not having sex. I’m not even going to touch you.”

She deflated. “Really? Not even a little bit?”

He followed her to the bed, climbing over her without touching her and planting himself next to her so they were lying side to side. He turned his head to her, and she looked at him curiously.

“We’re not just going to lie here naked, are we? It’s a bit cold for that.”

It was a little chilly. Her nipples were hard under her slip, which had ridden up to her stomach.

“No, but we can get under the blanket if you want.”

Her gaze raked up and down his body. “I’m happy above the blanket.”

They laid in a comfortable silence for a moment, happily taking in each other’s bodies. She was the most exquisite thing he had ever seen, and he was glad to see that their kissing antics had left her dishevelled. He liked that look on her.

“Are you actually not going to touch me?”

“I’m not. I think you should touch yourself.”

“Pardon?”

“I’ll touch myself, too. It’ll be a way for us to be more comfortable with each other. For you to be in control of your pleasure.”

“Will you watch me?” she murmured.

“If that’s okay. You can watch me, too.”

She considered his words, and Azriel wondered if this was in fact not the good idea he’d thought he’d had. She pursed her lips, and he knew her answer when she grabbed the hem of her slip and pulled it off, leaving her naked before him.

They stared into each other’s eyes as her hand brushed over her exposed breasts, and Azriel had to hold himself back from taking them in his mouth, from pinching her perked nipples with his teeth. Maybe later, that could come; he thought she would quite like it.

Her right hand kneaded her breast and tweaked her nipple while her left dipped down between her legs. Two fingers ran over her core, and he studied the way she massaged herself so that he could do it to her in the future. At the sight, he tentatively grasped his cock, wanting to make sure that she was truly okay with him touching himself at the vision of her with her fingers dipping inside her, moistening herself before focusing on her clit.

Her eyes flickered to his stroking hand, and her response nearly made him finish then and there like a teenager exploring themselves for the first time. She’d seen him, and lifted her leg so that it was draped over one of his, giving her a better angle on her clit and twining them together.

“I’m used to being quiet,” she shuddered. “So that no one hears me.”

“Be as loud as you want. Scream for me.”

Her hand quickened, and his sack tightened as he matched her speed with his own hand, gripping himself tightly. He moaned so loudly that he was once again thankful that Cassian and Nesta weren’t in the house. Even the magic of the walls mightn’t contain the pleasure pulsing through him as he watched her.

Her legs started to shake, and the little noises she’d made before were no more. Her voice was loud as she no longer held herself back from feeling even ounce of her impending orgasm.

“What are you thinking about?” She asked, her hips starting to gyrate against her hand.

“You. All I can think of is you,” Azriel moaned. He pumped himself quicker, his grip becoming harder.

“What about you,” he whispered in her ear. “Are you thinking about what you saw Cassian do to Nesta?”

Her toes curled at his words. “I’m thinking of what I saw them doing, but it’s you and me.”

“What are we doing, Gwyneth?”

Her eyes fluttered shut. Her tongue licked her lips before she bit down on them. “We’re in the library. You have me bent over one of the desks, and you’re taking me from behind. One of your arms is around me, and you’re flicking my clit as I scream your name. You’re so deep in me, Azriel, I can feel every inch of you as I clench around you. Cauldron, you feel so good. The best thing I’ve ever felt, Az.”

His breath hitched, and he felt himself on the brink of coming. What finally did him in was her teeth biting down on his shoulder as she screamed his name, her orgasm making her whole body shake as it overcame over.

When they had both come down from their highs, they laid trying to catch their breath, both their bodies covered in sweat.

“That was amazing,” she sighed, turning to face him.

He grabbed a corner of the unused blanket beneath them to wipe himself off, then turned to face her, an arm going around her waist and his lips pressing a kiss to her forehead and cheek.

He wanted to look at her body, finally relaxed and languid, but his shadows had another idea. They bathed over her like silk, dancing over her curves and crevices, making her laugh.

“I quite like them,” she said, her eyes starting to drift closed.

“Are you tired?”

“Mhmm.” She snuggled into him further, stealing his warmth. His cock responded to her touch, but it was too soon yet to do anything meaningful.

“Move up for a sec.”

“Is that you trying to hint that I should go?” Her voice was joking, but the look on her face said that she’d go if he wanted her too.

“Absolutely not, you’re staying here with me. I’m just grabbing the blanket.”

She moved away just long enough for him to pull the blankets over them and pull her to his chest again.

She made a content noise and closed her eyes to sleep, and Az thought to himself that he didn’t care if this one day ended their friendship, because it might very well be the best time of his life anyway.

***

The next two weeks were filled with them sneaking away and feverishly touching themselves in all sorts of ways. Once, Gwyn sat in his lap naked while they stroked themselves, kissing each other the entire time. Another time, she pleasured herself by grinding against his thigh and he palmed himself – they hadn’t even bothered to take their clothes off. A late-night training session had led to her using a particularly shaped massage tool on herself in very a scandalous way while he watched, near feral at the sight of her pumping into herself. He did not return that item to the training ring, instead he kept it in his bedside drawer for future use.

It wasn’t until sixteen days and countless orgasms into their agreement that Azriel was finally able to touch her.

It had been a busy night. Rhys, Feyre, Nyx, Mor and Emerie were over for dinner, and it had been the most fun Az had had in a group since last solstice. At the table, he’d had Feyre on one side and Gwyn on the other, and her little secret touches to his thigh made him feel warm all over.

It wasn’t necessarily an arousing touch, just an affectionate one. When the group had started to disperse to drink, Nesta the sober adult taking care of Nyx, Az noticed Gwyn sneak away. He promptly followed her, making sure everyone was distracted as he did so no one noticed what they were doing.

Within a few minutes he was between her thighs tasting her. She had mentioned the night before that she wanted his tongue on her, and by the Cauldron was he happy to oblige. She was sitting on the edge of desk in the library that she’d described to him all those weeks ago, and whilst on his knees before her, he jerked himself off as she crumbled beneath his mouth.

Thankfully, by the time they returned, people were far too tipsy to question where they’d been.

Except for Nesta, who looked suspiciously between the two of them. Whatever she was thinking, it was at Gwyn’s behest if she knew anything. It was her decision, always, what happened between them, and if she wanted people to know about their sneakiness, that was for her to decide.

Seven days later is when she first touched him. Until that point it had all been about her, which is what Azriel wanted. They were on his bed, his fingers deep inside her as they kissed, when her hand brushed against his cock. He moved his hips aside, and she broke their kiss off with a noise of indignation.

“Stop swatting my hands away!” She flicked his nose with her finger.

“Huh?” He was still dazed on the sound of his hand gliding through her dripping wet core.

“Do you not want me to touch you?” Her voice was curt.

“I just want this to be about you. I don’t want you to think that I’m only with you for my own sexual gratification. The only thing that matters to me is your happiness, my soul purpose is you. You’re my priority.” He kissed her neck. “My desires are your desires.” Another kiss. “I can’t focus if you’re anything less than panting and satisfied.”

She pursed her lips, a familiar expression at this point. It turned into a joyful smile, and she smacked a kiss to his lips. “That was actually very sweet. After I get you off, I’m going to sit on your face.”

What was even better than the heavy petting and intense make out sessions was the talking. Sometimes for hours they would just tangle themselves together and divulge their life stories. Azriel knew all about her sister and mother – Gwyn confessing that she felt guilt when her twin wasn’t on the forefront of her mind, but sometimes she pushed her away because the memory of her was overwhelmingly devastating. Az wiped her tears away, desperate to see her smile again. But he also knew of all the good times she’d had growing up, and it made him feel alight inside to know how loved she was. Az told her mostly of Rhys and Cassian and the family they had made for themselves, about how it was so hard to be away from his mother, but he wouldn’t have survived another day in his father’s presence. Gwyn cried for him sometimes, and Azriel had never known such empathy from another.

When they were alone in the House, Nesta and Cassian off on one of their sexcations, Gwyn would spend her evenings and nights with him just as a friend, doing housework and menial tasks that she didn’t have to while humming various tunes. Az would tell her to stop working, but she would just grin and say she liked feeling like part of a home too much to not pretend that she lived there too. So he would just hum with her, his shadows dancing and swaying the way they always inevitably did around her. Then they would fall into bed together (or any surface really) until they were spent and exhausted.

Azriel had never known happiness like this.

***

Azriel was buzzing with excitement. He’d left Gwyn wrapped up in his bed, the sun not yet risen, and made sure to leave her some breakfast on his nightstand and the fire burning to keep her warm without his body next to hers. Usually he would wake her up early with his head between her thighs so she could go back to the library, but she had already told the acolytes she roomed with that she would be staying with Nesta, so no need to sneak around when no one was expecting her.

Before they’d gone to sleep the night before, Gwyn said something to him that left him smiling even now as he made his way to Rhys.

I want to have sex, Az. I’m sure. I know I’m safe with you.

Az didn’t know why Rhys needed him, but if it involved leaving Velaris, he would barter for a few more days so that he might be with Gwyn before he left. An odd feeling entered his chest at the thought. He couldn’t name the feeling; he just knew he didn’t want to leave Gwyn alone.

He landed on the doorstep of Feyre and Rhys’ home. Before he had the chance to let himself in, Feyre opened the door, a grave look on her face.

“Quick. Before they start yelling.” Feyre pinched her nose, the other hand holding Nyx on her hip.

Azriel pushed past her, and it wasn’t hard to find the source of Feyre’s frustration.

“Once again you fucking asshole, you need to back off. How dare you-”

“Nes, calm down-”

“Tell me to calm down again Cassian and I’m out of here. As I was saying, how fucking dare you accuse her of such things, Rhysand, High Lord of Shitting me up the Wall.”

“Nesta, for fuck’s sake you’re getting defensive for no reason!”

“No reason?!” she spat, Cassian holding her back before she lunged at Rhys.

“Too late,” Feyre muttered at him as she walked into the office, sitting at the desk to remain neutral in Nesta and Rhysand’s pissing match. Azriel would love to know what had riled them up so much that they were nearly screaming at each other, but any guidance from his brothers was not there.

“You have to admit that it’s suspicious, Nesta!”

Rhys threw his arm at Azriel as he approached, looking triumphant. “Azriel will agree with me.”

“He will not.”

“May I ask what I might need to agree to, or will it remain a mystery as to why you’re yelling so early in the morning?” Az crossed his arms over his chest, waiting for them to stop acting like children.

“Rhys accused Gwyn of being a spy,” Nesta growled.

“You’re twisting my words! I said I’d had reports of her acting strange, of her behaviour being completely different, and I suggested that it was worth looking into. We have to consider the safety of Velaris, and Gwyn would be the perfect plant.”

Azriel was sure Rhys was going to say more, but he was interrupted by Azriel’s uncontrollable fit of laughter. His laughs shook his whole body, and he felt tears in his eyes from how hard his fit was hitting him. He had to bend over to try and catch his breath, clutching at his chest as though his lungs might leap out of it.

“What’s so funny,” Rhys deadpanned.

Azriel shook his head and walked to Nesta, putting an arm around her shoulder.

“Are you serious, Rhys? Gwyn? Gwyenth Berdara?”

“Yes, I’m serious. Both Clotho and Merrill have approached me. Clotho, because she was worried, and Merrill, because she thought that Gwyn was being insubordinate. Clotho has had multiple girls come to her in fear for Gwyn, saying she’s been disappearing at night and coming back early in the morning. They she’s tired, unfocused, and that she’s exceeding every expectation they had for her in training and acting like a different person in the library. This has all been reported over the last month.” Rhys picked Nyx out of Feyre’s arms to calm himself before continuing. “Gwyn knows incredibly sensitive information about us. She helped us with the Trove, she treats the House of Wind like she bloody lives there. She’s awfully comfortable for a person who previous to knowing us refused to leave the library.”

Any humour Azriel felt had been leeched from his body. Nesta’s verbal beating of Rhys had been justified and then some.

“With all due respect, you can go fuck yourself,” he bit at his brother.

Feyre made a noise in the back of her throat and took Nyx back from Rhys before leaving the room, shutting the door behind her.

Too much swearing for such little ears! she said into their minds as she was leaving.

“What the fuck, Az?�� Rhys looked startled.

“I knew he’d side with me,” Nesta said smugly.

“She’s ‘awfully comfortable?’ Yeah, she is, because she found a fucking family. Nesta is like a sister to her, and she’s over at the House a lot not because she’s entitled, but because we want her there. You might not make that much of an effort with Nesta’s friends because of your own personal shit, but Cassian and I consider her a close friend. Accusing her of anything unbecoming, to me, is as bad as if you’d dragged me in here to tell me Cassian was working against us. You sound ludicrous. Also, need I remind you, it’s not your fucking House anymore. Who we have over is none of your damned business.”

Rhys scoffed. “It’s not your House either.”

“Sorry, High Lord Rhysand, I’ll manage my expectations.” Az clenched his jaw at Rhys’ words. He was right. Azriel didn’t technically have any property, neither had Cassian until Rhys had given Nesta the House as a mating gift. Azriel didn’t technically have a home beyond the sky, nothing worth giving to or sharing with another person. Even now, Gwyn was waiting for him in a bedroom that technically wasn’t is. He wouldn’t dare leave though, not when he knew it was one of only two places that Gwyn felt safe in.

“Why are you getting so defensive? You know what I’m saying is reasonable.”

“It would be if we didn’t know her. She is… there are not words to describe her.”

“Yes, there is,” Nesta piqued. “She is competitive. She is feisty. She’s a Valkyrie. She is the kindest soul in Velaris. She is so brave, and strong, and the most selflessly loving person I’ve met in my entire life. If you weren’t so thick headed, you would see that she’s like Feyre in a lot of ways.” Nesta paused. She left Azriel’s side to stand in front of Rhys, her shoulders back and her head high. “If you accuse her of something it would break her heart. I won’t let you hurt her.”

“I would never hurt her, Nesta.” Rhys rubbed a hand over his face. “If you’re so convinced that nothing is going on, can you explain her strange behaviour.”

Nesta turned away from Rhys, so that he couldn’t see her face. When Nesta looked over at Azriel, she didn’t need to say a single word for him to know that she knew the exact reason Gwyn was acting different.

It was because of him.

“I don’t need to explain it because I trust her. I’m also with her nearly every minute of every day. Do you not think I would not notice if she was conniving against us? Or are you truly that foolish?”

“I agree with Nesta,” Cassian said. “She’s either with us training the Valkyries, or she’s working with Nesta in the library. Who cares if she’s a little distracted, we all are sometimes.”

“And you’re sure of this?” Rhys directed his question at Azriel, almost as if he couldn’t trust Cassian and Nesta to be impartial because of how close they were to Gwyn. Huh. If only he knew.

“I have never been surer of anything.”

***

“Azriel, wait.”

Azriel was stalking through the front gardens. He would walk until his head was clear, then he would go home – go to the House of Wind – and spend the morning with Gwyn. Nesta had other plans.

“What is it?”

“Gwyn-”

“-will be safe. I won’t let Rhys near her.”

“I’m not worried about that. What is going on between you two?”

“Nothing.”

“I’m not blind. All the things Rhys described? Sure, might be espionage, but it might also just be someone falling in love.”

“We’re not together.” Love? What a preposterous thought. Gwyn had been very clear from the beginning in what she wanted from him. She needed someone to fulfil her physical needs, and Azriel was happy to do so. All the other stuff, the talking and friendship, was just icing.

“Then what are you doing? Setting yourselves up to get hurt?”

“This is a conversation you should have with her.”

“She trusts you so much, Az. Please, don’t do anything that would hurt her. She’s come so far since we met.”

“Nesta, I promise you I couldn’t dream of hurting her. The thought alone makes me feel visceral pain. What we do, what we are, is just her making decisions and doing what she wants. How did you even know there was something going on?”

Nesta smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “I guessed she had a flirtation with someone. I knew it was you from the way she started saying your name.”

Azriel felt his eyes burn, but he did not know why. “The way she says my name?”

“I’ve heard the way she says it a million times. From Cassian and I. From Rhys and Feyre. I can’t describe it beyond that.”

Azriel shoved his hands in his pockets and shifted where he stood. “Have you told Cas?”

“I don’t need to, he knows.”

“So you guys have talked about it?”

“No. I haven’t told him that I know. But I know he knows. And he also knows I know.”

“So he knows you know even though you haven’t told him you know and you know he knows even though he hasn’t said he knows?”

“Exactly,” she laughed. Her smile was more genuine now. It was a look she’d only had since her mating ceremony. It sung contentment, something she, like him, struggled to have.

She came to him and linked their arms, resting her head on his shoulder. Her friendship was invaluable to him, as much as it was a surprise when it first started to form.

“I have one other thing to say, and then I’ll let you go home to Gwyn.”

“Yes, Nesta?”

“The House of Wind is as much as your home as it is mine. You can stay there forever if you want. It is your home, Azriel, and I wouldn’t dream of it being anything else.”

***

Gwyn was awake when Azriel returned home. She was humming a song to herself in bed, wrapped in his blankets like it was a cocoon. She had the breakfast he made for her in her lap, and when he entered the room, she pulled the blanket aside and opened her arms for him to fall into to.

Maybe he still looked stormy after his talk with Rhys, or maybe she just wanted to hold him. Either way, he fell happily into her embrace.

***

Gwyn had set a date. She did not intend to be so clinical about it, she just wanted to give herself a chance to mentally prepare for what was about to happen, and she needed a few days to do so.

The month she’d had with Azriel had been… Cauldron, she did not know how to exactly describe it. When she had approached him, she honestly did not think that he would say yes to such a ridiculous idea. But he had, and he’d given her nothing short of the best month of her life. Her cheeks ached from how much she was smiling, and even if she was tired when she worked, she wouldn’t give up her restless nights for anything.

It would also be remiss for her to not acknowledge that perhaps what she had with him was more than an arranged bargain, but any time the thoughts propped up she promptly put them to the side.

She had not gone to see Az last night, needing the time to do extra work so that she could be missed for a day. Or two. Maybe even three.

Gwyn didn’t know how long this marathon might last, but if it were anything like Nesta and Cassian’s, it could be a while.

She had also warned Clotho and the females she shared her room with that she would be staying at the House of Wind for a few days. When asked why, she just said she was doing something with Emerie without going into any detail.

So, tonight it was. She was ready.

She was so fucking ready.

The moment dinner was served in the library she made a run for it, having to physically restrain herself from skipping out of the library. She was so excited, her body literally vibrating with energy, that she didn’t even see Nesta before their bodies slammed together.

They went to a ground in a tangled fumble, and Nesta was too busy laughing to listen to Gwyn’s repeated apologies. The brisk evening air greeted them, the stars starting to peek through the violet dusk as they laid on the path that took them from the library to the training area to the House.

“Well, you made looking for you much easier,” Nesta said, brushing off her dress as she stood. She offered Gwyn a hand, which she gladly took. Nesta started walking towards the House, their hands not dropping as they swung them between them like children.

“Why were you looking for me?”

“Emerie is here with Mor and Feyre. I wanted you to join us for dinner.”

“I have dinner with you every night.”

“I know, but I wanted you to know that you’re not just welcome but also invited.”

Gwyn smiled at Nesta, love for her friend filling her heart.

They approached the House, Nesta’s face falling as they walked in and saw Rhys standing in the middle of the room, confused looks on the faces of Mor and Emerie as everyone just looked uncomfortable.

Nesta’s hands squeezed Gwyn’s, and for just a second it felt like Nesta was about to pull Gwyn right back to the library.

“I’m not sure what the problem is,” Mor said slowly. “We go out in Velaris all the time, why can’t we tonight?”

“You’re more than welcome to, I would just rather stay here,” Azriel replied.

Gwyn knew the look on his face. It was the same look he’d had a few days ago when he’d returned from Mother knows where after Rhys summoned him. Gwyn assumed Azriel had just had to do one of the many hard tasks expected of a spymaster, but perhaps there was something else if his face was a mirror of that again now.

“What’s going on?” asked Nesta.

They all turned to look at them like they were surprised to see them. Not even Azriel had noticed their entrance, although Gwyn self-admitted that Azriel tended to be surprised by her sudden appearances quite often. She didn’t know for sure, but she thought maybe his shadows didn’t bother warning him when she was near. It’s not like she was a danger to the guy.

“Rhys came and said we should try the new restaurant on the Rainbow! The one near Feyre’s studio? I’ve heard really nice things about it, and the family that opened it are really beautiful.” Mor beamed at them all, trying to disperse the odd tension. “And then maybe we could go dancing.”  

The idea sounded wonderful, and Gwyn wistfully wished she could join them. In reality, just the thought of going into the city set her heard racing. The only time she had ever left the library or the House, other than to go to Emerie’s house which landed them in the Bloodrite, was to officiate Nesta and Cassian’s mating ceremony. Although the memory was one of her most treasured ones, it was not something she thought she would be able to do again. Not yet.

“I’ve heard great things about that place,” Nesta replied, her stomach audibly grumbling at just hearing about the exquisite food it might receive.

“You are all more than welcome to go.” Azriel swept a hand out between them. “But I don’t want to.”

His gaze flickered to Gwyn, and suddenly the eyes of everyone were on her.

A blanket of understanding washed over the room. Most eyes were understanding, Mor’s held the pity that Gwyn hated, and Rhys looked indifferent, if not satisfied.

Azriel’s resistance became evident. It wasn’t just that it was the night, their night, but he didn’t want her to be left alone whilst everyone else galivanted through the city having the time of their lives when they knew she wouldn’t be able to join them.

“I don’t want to go either. It’s been a long week and I’m tired,” said Nesta.

Gwyn narrowed her eyes at her lying sister but couldn’t hold it in her heart to be angry. In face, she had to stop it from swelling with how loving their words felt. They didn’t want her to be alone. They wanted to stay with her.

“You know,” spoke Emerie softly, “I can’t imagine anywhere making food as well as the House.”

Mor’s eyes shot to Emerie, and Gwyn wondered if she was imagining the slight betrayed look in them.

“Guy’s, c’mon. Rhys and I made a reservation, they’re expecting us! It would be rude not to go,” Mor pleaded.

Azriel opened his mouth to snap back, but Gwyn interrupted. “She’s right. You should go enjoy yourselves.”

“But Gwyn-”

“It’s okay, Nesta. Please, I really think you should all go.” She made a point to look at Azriel. “It sounds like it would be a lot of fun.”

“It’s not fair to arrange activities that we can’t all participate in.” Azriel’s voice had softened as he looked at her, and if she didn’t have better self-control she would stride over and plant a kiss on his pouting lips.

“How could Mor have known that Gwyn would be here? It’s not her fault,” Rhys interjected.

“That’s the worst excuse I’ve ever heard-”

“Stop, just stop.” Gwyn clutched her hands in front of her and stepped away from Nesta. She needed them to see her as an adult, as someone who was strong and to be taken seriously. “It’s fine. Really, truly. I have a lot to do anyway.” She turned to Feyre and waved her fingers at Nyx. “If you would like, I can take care of him so you can enjoy some grown-up time.”

For a second Feyre looked hopeful, but then she schooled her face into neutrality. Rhys stepped between the two, and Feyre had to put an arm on his shoulder.

As if to stop him stepping any further.

Gywn blinked, feeling like she should blanch away but not sure as to why.

“That won’t be necessary,” Rhys said. She’d heard him use that voice before. It was his political voice. His I-have-an-agenda voice. Now it was her turn to look confused.

“No worries,” Gwyn whispered.

She looked away from the High Lord’s searing gaze and back to her friends. She hoped her face didn’t speak of her sadness.

“Please go. I would feel awful if any of you stayed on my part. If anything, by going and having a great time you’d be doing me a favour, because I wouldn’t feel guilty.”

“You could always just come with us,” Mor said, tucking her hair behind her ears in a way that was comically similar to how the ‘popular’ girls in her smutty books would behave.

Gwyn bit her lip, thinking about it. Of course, logically, she would be safe. They would all be there, Azriel would be there, but she genuinely felt like she might vomit at the thought. A bead of sweat dripped down her back, and she despised how her eyes stung with tears. She breathed the way her and Nesta had learnt from Valkyrie texts and pulled herself back to reality. Sometimes the logic of actions did not dictate how you would feel, or react, to a situation. Gwyn reminded herself once more to be kinder to herself.

“Thank you for the offer, Mor, but I am happy here.” Gwyn smiled brightly at them all, and they seemed to relax – all but Az and her sisters.

She shooed them out of the House, hoping that one day she would be able to join them.

***

It was odd. Gwyn had spent much time over the last few years alone, but it had never affected her. And although the House was quite good company – it had dinner and dessert ready for her with a box of tissues and chocolates even before Cassian had finally flown off with the resistant Nesta – it wasn’t the same as spending time with someone who could talk back to you.

She only just made it through her meal when she crawled into Azriel’s bed, hoping the scent of him would make her feel better.

It didn’t, but the sight of his room did. There were unlit candles lining the room, and flowers adorning every surface. The cheeky male had even installed a mirror on the ceiling above the bed, and she blushed profusely at the implications.

He had tried to make it romantic, and she adored him for it.

She had no idea when he would be back, and she scolded herself for wishing it would be sooner rather than later. She wanted him to be out and about with his family, even if it made her burn with envy that everyone would be able to enjoy him but her.

She rolled over, stuffing her face into his pillow and groaning. She should take off her day clothes and resign herself to pyjamas. Maybe she should sleep in a different bedroom so as to not torture herself with what this night could have been.

Her night with Az. The night with Az.

“That’s it. I am so over this,” she said aloud before springing up. She stomped out of the room and towards Nesta’s, flinging her closet open to inspect her clothes.

It was just a restaurant. It was safe. She would be fine. Besides, how could she overcome her fears if not to face them? She had gone to Emerie’s and survived. She had gone to Nesta’s mating ceremony and survived. She had won the bloody Bloodrite!

As she looked through the dresses, she quickly realised they wouldn’t fit. They would hang loose at her hips and chest, where Nesta was beautifully endowed and she was not.

“Not to worry, I’ll just take a coat then.” Taking the first one she saw, light but soft enough that warmth wouldn’t be an issue, Gwyn shoved her shoes on approached the door that led to the ten thousand steps that would take her to Velaris. She didn’t know where to go from there, but she knew in her heart of hearts that she would be able to find her friends with enough willpower. And since meeting Nesta and Emerie, since being empowered by the strongest females she knew and since empowering herself, she knew she had that willpower in abundance.

“Let’s fucking do this.”

***

She didn’t know at what point the House had left her, its omnipresence not connected to the stairs, but she was doing just fine even if she felt its absence. She counted in her head to keep track of where she was.

One thousand. Feeling good. Coat in arms.

Two thousand. Out of breath but in a good way.

Three thousand. Fucking shit.

Four thousand. Maybe she should turn around.

Five thousand.

Six thousand. How has Nesta done this multiple times?

Seven thousand. She had this! This was easier than Ramiel!

Eight thousand. If she died here no one would find her.

Nine thousand.

Ten. Fucking. Thousand.

Gwyn realised that there was no way she’d be able to eat with them. They would be having dessert if they hadn’t already moved on. She just needed to find them.

As Gwyn took the last step, her toes touched the streets of Velaris for the very first time.

It was so beautiful she thought she might cry. There was colour everywhere, the laughter of adults and children alike, and she could smell delicious food as the many restaurant’s wide-open doors let the scents pour into the streets. The faelights lining the streets reminded her of the stars she often gazed at with Azriel, the thought of him like a caress to her mind.

Azriel loved Velaris, would die for this city if he had to. How could she been afraid of something he loved so much?

She took one step. Then one more. She was sure to anyone that glanced her way she must have looked like a lunatic, her eyes wide in wonder as she moved at a snail’s pace, Nesta’s coat bundled in her arms because after all those steps she didn’t need it.

Her heart was hammering in her chest, equal parts fear and excitement, as she walked through the city. She got a few odd looks, but she could see it was out of curiosity for a newcomer in a city that had been locked down for centuries, and not for violence. She wasn’t leered at or bothered. In fact, the only time someone even talked to her was when a toddler sprinted from his mother’s side, his legs too quick for his body to keep up, and he fell into her.

The mother apologised profusely but Gwyn didn’t care at all. How could she be mad at the pudgy little baby?

It was easy to find her way to a district clearly dedicated to all things food. If possible, she slowed down even more. She peeked inside every restaurant looking for the four sets of wings that would set her friends apart from everyone else.

Finally, after what seemed like hours of searching but was probably closer to forty minutes, she saw them.

Azriel and Rhys were standing outside the restaurant Mor must’ve been talking about. Light and music drifted from its open windows, the streets still full of roaming people. Gwyn knew they wouldn’t be able to see her yet, and she wondered how she should approach them.

Azriel… did not look happy, and the tense set of Rhys’ shoulders and back let her know that his face likely looked the same, even if he was facing away from her.

Before she could think of a strategy, Azriel looked up, his eyes meeting hers.

Gwyn could not describe the feeling that filled her as they drunk in one another. Still standing twenty steps from him, his gaze made her feel like she was wrapped in his arms.

She raised one hand in a wave, and it was like Rhys didn’t exist at all.

Azriel shoved him to the side, Rhys making an indignant sound as he did. He ran to her, and she dropped Nesta’s coat so she could wrap her arms around him as they crashed together. People in the streets backed off at Azriel’s display, and in that moment she couldn’t have cared less about where she was, as long as she was with him.

His wings wrapped around her, creating a shield between them and the outside world.

“Gwyn.”

“Hey Az,” she whispered, her arms around his neck and his face tucked to her shoulder.

“What are you doing here? Is everything okay?” He straightened and brushed the hair from her face. It had stuck to her skin from how much she had sweat while taking the stairs, but she didn’t care how she looked. She knew he certainly never would.

He looked ready to fight an invisible threat, and it made her throb in unspeakable places.

“Nothing’s wrong. I just – I. Um.” She hadn’t rehearsed what she would say to him, but it’s not like she could blurt out Hey! Just wanted to near you at all times and rub my body against yours!

“Did something happen? What do you need me to do?”

She shook her head. “No, no, Az, really, I’m fine. I just regretted not coming out with you all.”

He must have been able to see the honesty on her face and smile, because he relaxed, his wings folding back.

The look on his face was adorable as the realisation dawned on him that she was here for him.

“Did I miss everything? Are you all done?”

He didn’t answer, but he did look behind him. Rhys was standing there with his mouth open, his face laced with something Gwyn couldn’t put a name to. Before she could greet him, Rhys stormed back into the restaurant.

Azriel turned back to her, and he didn’t hesitate when he lifted her chin and kissed her.

She gasped but reciprocated zealously. She pushed her body into his, and his arms went around her as he lifted her off her feet, cradling him to her as he kissed her like she was the wind that let him embrace the skies. He tasted like air, like gold, like this was his final breath and he was he was sharing it with just her.

***

Azriel sat with Gwyn while the rest of their friends danced. She hid it well, but he could tell that she was nervous being in this new environment.

She had been so good, so brave when she went into the restaurant and greeted Azriel’s family. Nesta and Emerie jumped up when they saw her, and Nesta held her tightly while Emerie rushed to get another chair. Nesta was trying to be subtle, but Azriel saw the happy tears she shed as she held Gwyn. Emerie then insisted that Gwyn sit and eat her strawberry and mango cheesecake with her, which earned an inexplicable scowl from Mor. Interesting.

Once Gwyn was satisfied and protesting the consumption of more food, they all walked together to one of the classier bars Nesta used to frequent so they could go dancing. Everyone was light as a feather, except Rhys, but life was hard as a fucking asshole, so Az wasn’t surprised he was feeling surly.

And now here they were. Azriel and Gwyn seated with the others dancing to their hearts content. Mor was spinning around with a giggling Nyx, Feyre and Rhys were swaying but it was obvious they were speaking to each other through their daemati bond, and Emerie and Nesta were terrorising Cassian in a three-way dance.

“How are you feeling?” Azriel asked, his shadows silent to her moods. If it had been anyone else, he would have known she was coming to the restaurant before she’d even left the House. But his shadows didn’t like to spy on her and revelled in him being surprised by her.

“I feel good.” Her gaze was focused on the dance floor, and Azriel glanced over to see what was so entrancing.

Nesta and Cassian were finally dancing alone, Emerie now with Nyx and Mor. The way Cassian and Nesta were grinding on each other was nothing short of pornographic as they moved into the shadows of the dance floor. Nesta’s back was to Cassian, his hands clasped on her hips as his lips were on her neck as she pushed her ass back against him.

Azriel snorted. They’d be fucking in an alley within the next fifteen minutes.

“Do you want to dance like that, Gwyneth?”

She turned to him, a lovely flush spreading from her face to her chest. “No,” she said unconvincingly. She slid her chair closer to his, the bar stool so high she had to hop onto it to sit. It was frightfully cute, and Azriel had to restrain from kissing her again.

He couldn’t help it in the street. The sight of her – rumpled, breathless, her face alight with joy – was too much for him.

She was beginning to be too much for him.

The longer he was with her, the more of her he was allowed to have, the more he feared he could never go back to just a simple friendship. This female would either be his salvation or his ruination, either of which he would happily accept if it meant he could savour every minute he had left with her.

Under the table, she linked their hands, and Azriel thought he might very well die from the touch.

“I’m sorry we didn’t get to enjoy our plans.” He rubbed his thumb against her finger.

She smiled his way, her eyes crinkling at the sides. “It’s okay.” She looked down, biting her lip. “I went to your room. I saw what you had done.”

He swallowed hard. “Did you like it?”

She removed her hand from his and placed it on his thigh. “I loved it.”

He shifted in his seat, glad that the tablecloth was long enough so that anyone around, if they looked, would only see their ankles. “You’re playing with fire right now,” he chucked under his breath as she continued to stroke his thigh.

“I especially liked the mirror on the ceiling. May I ask, what purpose does it serve?” Her smile may have been all innocent, but the way her hand was moving was anything but.

She leant against him so they were touching shoulder to shoulder, hip to hip.

“It was for your pleasure.”

“Is that right?”

He brushed his lips to her ear, grateful that the dim lights of the bar kept them in the shadows and that the dancing bodies kept their scents hidden. And over the live music, no one would hear them. “Mhm. It was so that, no matter what position I put you in, you could watch me.”

She tipped her head back, humming in acknowledgement. Her hand, already in dangerous territory, swept down his increasingly hard length.

He grunted, laying both his hands on the table and fisting the cloth.

“Is this okay?” she asked, breathless.

He nodded, taking a swig of his drink to distract him.

She brushed her hand down again, bolder this time, and he squirmed in his chair.

“I would take it out, but I fear it would be seen over the table. So inside it stays,” she sighed. “It must be hard being so large.” She put her lips to his ear, mimicking what he had done to her. “I do love it though. The size, the taste, I think about it constantly.”

“You’re going to be the death of me,” he choked out. “But at least I’d die happy.”

Her hand slipped inside his pants, and he couldn’t help but thrust up into her hand. He tilted his head back in pleasure as she worked him, getting the angles just right as she pumped him. He was unbelievably aroused by the public act, barely able to believe that she’d do something so audacious. But Cauldron have mercy, he would do anything if it meant she was touching him. She could ask to ride him right now in the middle of this bar and he would blissfully indulge.

“I’m going to finish soon,” he warned her.

“I can’t wait for you to finish in me.”

Her words were his undoing, and he felt the edge of the table splinter under his grip as he contained his moan of pleasure.

He stared at her as she pulled her hand from him, offering him a serviette to clean himself like she hadn’t just given him a mind-blowing orgasm where anyone could have seen.

“Az?” she asked after a few, content minutes of silence.

“Yes, Gwyneth?”

“Do you think we could go dance?”

***

Gwyn couldn’t remember the last time she had been this relentlessly happy. Azriel flew her and Emerie back to the House of Wind, the latter looking forlorn as they finally left the bar in the small hours of the morning.

Rhys and Feyre had left much earlier, Nyx too small to stay up that late, and if Gwyn was being honest she was surprised they lasted as long as they did. Feyre seemed fine, but Rhys was in a shocking mood. Every time she asked Azriel about it, he just muttered about Rhys being a jerk without elaborating. She could tell that whatever it was, it was sensitive, so she didn’t push him.

Her and Nesta put a very intoxicated Emerie to bed, stripping her and putting her into some pyjamas before tucking her in nice and tight with some herbs on her nightstand that would help her head in the morning. Azriel and Cassian had already gone to their respective bedrooms, and Gwyn contemplated how she was going to sneak into Azriel’s room when Nesta stopped her.

“Can we talk for a second?”

“Of course.”

Nesta led her to the library, and they plopped themselves onto one of the plush couches. Gwyn faced her as she sat, tucking her feet under Nesta’s thighs to keep them warm.

Two hot chocolates appeared to them on a table, a dish of marshmallows to the side. They whispered their thanks to the House, claiming the warm drinks. Gwyn pressed hers up against her face, liking the warmth on her skin.

“What do you want to talk about?” Gwyn asked, taking a sip.

“Azriel. You. You and Azriel.” Nesta patted her shin, and Gwyn put her drink down. This wasn’t a hot chocolate kind of conversation.

“I don’t know what you’re talk-”

“Do you love him, Gwyn? Because if you did, or even if you don’t, you don’t have to sneak around Cassian and I and pretend nothing is happening. You can live here, forever if you want. All four of us in the House.”

“Nesta-”

“Imagine if we both had our families and babies here. It’s a big place, we wouldn’t get in each other’s way. And maybe Emerie could come too and she could fall in love too and we’d all be so happy. Okay, I’m rambling and that was weird. What I’m trying to say is – is that you can Azriel are so obviously together and I’m wracking my brain trying to figure out why you’re keeping it a secret from us, not that I care that you have secrets you’re an adult and you don’t have to tell me everything, and I’m so fucking happy for you, Gwyn, and I want you to know that you can be publicly happy, if you want.”  

“Nesta…”

“I just love this. You and him. I’ve never seen Azriel so happy and you just smile all the time. And, oh, it reminds me of Cassian. In the way that I can see ourselves reflected in you two, and I wonder if maybe if I hadn’t been so,” she gestured at her head, “you know, then I could have just been this happy from the start of us, with him, like you two. So I need you to know that if you want that, if you want him, I am so incredibly supportive and I will do anything you want if it means you get your happily ever after. Okay, I’m done.”

“Nesta.”

“And I also would just love to know how this all began. Like the secret little smiles and observations that I’ve had for as long as I’ve known you just changed one day. And I know you guys used to train alone sometimes and I know you were always here with him, and me and Cas but I can’t pinpoint when your friendship turned into this.” She paused and took a deep breath. “Sorry, I really am done now.”

“Are you sure?” Gwyn pinched her cheek lovingly, and Nesta swatted it away.

“Yes.”

Gwyn took a second to think about her words, and as nice and idyllic as they sounded, Gwyn wasn’t sure they were the truth.

“Nesta, we aren’t together.”

“What?”

“We have a…” Gwyn struggled to find the words. “Deal? Agreement?”

“A sexy agreement?”

Gwyn laughed. “No. Well, yes actually.” She launched into the story of how her and Azriel had started their bargain, detailing how Azriel had agreed to help her overcome her fear, and how much they practised towards her ultimate goal of sex. Gwyn also expressed how their closeness was something she treasured, as spending so much time together naturally led to a deepening in their friendship. Her face stained pink as she told her of some of the things they had done, but how, after over a month together, that hadn’t actually sealed the deal.

Nesta was silent the entire story, letting Gwyn speak her truth. She was contemplative over Gwyn’s words, not saying anything until she was done speaking.

“Before I say anything, I want to let you know how incredibly proud of you I am, and how much I support wanting to explore yourself and your sexuality. No matter what I say, I need you to know that.”

Well, that wasn’t a good start.

“I understand, Nesta.”

“Gwyn, do you love him?”

Gwyn took a deep breath. It was a topic she often pushed from her mind, unable or not wanting to broach the subject. “I don’t know.”

“It’s a yes or no, Gwyn.”

Gwyn shrugged her shoulders. “What if it’s a ‘I’m not sure because I so thoroughly blurred the lines between what was real and what I asked him to do to help me?’ What if it’s a ‘I don’t know if I could say it to him but if he said it to me, I would say it back in an instant?’”

“Do you know how he feels about you? Has he said anything?”

Gwyn shook her head. “I know we’re friends. I know he cares about me. I know he would do anything I asked of him. I know he must love me, in some way, but I don’t know if it’s love-love or platonic love.”

“And he’s never given any sort of indication of his intentions?”

Gwyn pondered how thoughtful he was, how detail oriented he was to her pleasure and how he was the best part of her day. And as she thought about it, about him, who was so caring and lovable and agreeable, and she realised that a lot of what he did for her – the comfort, the talking, the support – he would do for anyone.

“I’ve never asked.” Her breath shuddered, and Nesta put a hand to her cheek.

“Maybe you should.”

“What if he doesn’t feel the same way as I do? What if I’m just an obligation?”

“Oh, my love.” Nesta repositioned them so that Gwyn was lying down, her head in Nesta’s lap, as Nesta lovingly stroked her hair. It reminded Gwyn so much of what Catrin used to do that she couldn’t help the tears that started to shed.

“It’s better to know what you are to him. If it’s any consolation, I think he cares about you a great deal. Maybe even loves you. It’s hard to tell when he’s naturally so cold.”

He wasn’t cold, she wanted to say, he was the warmest person she knew. Instead, she cried, and she let Nesta comfort her like she always did.

***

A few days passed, and although Gwyn never left the House, her sexual relations with Az didn’t progress. Rather, they stopped altogether. He didn’t mind at all, he was just glad for her company. They talked and trained, and Azriel was surprised that somehow he could be even more impressed of her than before.

She also started doing what he called her ‘casual kisses.’

They would be doing something monotonous, like sorting weapons for training the next day, and she could kiss him as she walked by him. Or they would be sitting in bed reading, and she would lean over and brush her lips to his temple.

It became a game, who could casually kiss the other first if the opportunity arose, and it was the best game Az had ever played.

He felt himself looking forward to the nights even if the only touching they did was cuddling until they fell asleep in each other’s arms. Azriel wondered if this is what home felt like.

It was late, and Gwyn decided that she needed to return to the library before people started to question where she was. Az didn’t have the heart to tell her they already were.

“I had the most interesting conversation with Nesta the other day,” she said as they reached the door that would take her away.

“What about?”

Gwyn fiddled with her fingers, trepidation oozing from her.

“Are you okay?” he asked, worry starting to maw at him.

“I’m fine.” She turned to face him, and he took the opportunity to kiss her on her hairline. He loved the height different between them, it made him feel bigger than he was. “Nesta asked me about us. She has suspected for a while.”

He schooled his face into neutrality. As far as Gwyn knew, this was new information to him.

He hadn’t told her a word of what had happened between them and Rhys, and it would stay that way. All it would do was hurt her, and Azriel was serious when he said no harm would ever come her way from him. She did not need to know that Rhys was acting like a tool.

In more ways than one. Azriel didn’t need to read minds to know that Rhys was highly suspicious of them both. And more so, as much as it pained him to admit, how much Rhys disapproved. He wasn’t sure why, and he couldn’t bear to ask, but he had a good idea. Rhys, as much as he loved Az, must know that he would never be good enough for Gwyn. The idea had plagued him for days, and the only thing that drove away the dark thoughts were the casual kisses Gwyn would bestow upon him.

“How do you feel about that?” he asked her, snapping back to their conversation.

She shrugged. “At first I was worried, but now I’m actually kind of relieved.”

“Why were you worried?”

“You know, it’s weird. I had it in my head that if people knew I was on this mission to achieve some ultimate, empowering orgasm that they might judge me. But Nesta never would, and I felt like an idiot as soon as she looked at me and told me she knew we were,” she gestured between them, “touching.”

Az snickered. “Touching is one way to sum it up.”

“She asked me something I couldn’t answer.”

“What was that?”

“She asked me what we are.” She brushed her hands over his chest absentmindedly. “What I am to you.”

He clasped her hands and held them to his heart, trying to make her look at him when she was purposefully focusing on the floor.

“What did you tell her?”

“I told her the truth. That I don’t know what I am to you.”

“Gwyn…”

“I need to say something, and I beg you not to interrupt until I’m done.” She sniffled, and he hated the tears that threatened to spill from her eyes.

She took a deep breath and wiped her tears away, facing him with steel. “I genuinely approached you with nothing but friendship in mind. I had a plan, to sleep with you once and then go back to how we always were before – me, as your overly competitive but absolute best student, and you as, as this God of a man that I could not believe even walked the same existence as me, let alone be someone I considered a friend. You were my ribbon Az. The thing I wanted to be as good as. And then you said yes to me. I didn’t expect you to. I half-thought you would laugh because you thought I was joking. But you didn’t, and you said yes, and I have made the grave mistake of developing feelings I swore to myself I wouldn’t.”

He opened his mouth to say something, but she put a hand over his mouth before he could.

“I had every intention of having sex with you until Nesta asked me what I was to you. And then I realised that if all I was to you was a proposition to uphold, I couldn’t do it. I can’t be with you just once. I can’t be just friends if we take that last step. So, Az, I’m asking you, and please don’t feel obligated to say anything you don’t feel, but what am I to you?”

He couldn’t breathe. His chest felt like his ribs were being ripped apart and then shoved back together until his lungs were caged too tightly. He knew what he wanted to say, that of course she was more than that, she was everything, but then he thought of her spirit being crushed by his inadequacies, and how she could do so much better now that she was ready to. She was pure, she was light, and she deserved more than his darkness.

He had been quiet too long.

Watching her was like watching a porcelain doll shatter after being dropped. Her face crumbled, and she pulled her hands away from him as she tried to contain herself.

“You’re my best friend.” He finally said, his own tears stinging at his eyes. “I can’t lose you.” Which he would, if she stayed with him and realised how truly broken he was.

A sob fractured her chest, and Az hated the way her voice sounded when she spoke. “You’re my best friend, too.”

And then they were kissing. It tasted like salt from their tears and was more passionate and heart-wrenching than any of the kisses they’d had before. They were drowning, their only hope at salvation one another as they clung to each other with all the strength they had.

Azriel didn’t want to let her go. He knew once he did that it would be over. His month of bliss, of final contentment, would be over. Part of him wished Nesta had never opened her mouth, or that he’d been able to tell the truth, but all of him wished that he was someone else, or that he was more like his brothers, so that he was good enough for her.

When they finally stopped kissing, it was not so she could leave. They still clung to each other, breathing in each other’s scents, well into the night.

When she whispered goodbye, part of his soul left with her as she walked away.

He lied to her by staying silent. He should have told her the truth, that what he was feeling went deeper than affection, maybe even deeper than love. But this lie protected her, and he would take it to his grave.

#acosf #fanfic #gwynriel #azriel #nessian #feysand #acotar #acomaf #acofas #acowar #sjm #sarahjmaas #tog #koa #emorie #mor x emerie

[butterflies-dragons]

Chopping off heads is a love language

Nothing says true love like decapitation

Frog-faced Lord Slynt sat at the end of the council table wearing a black velvet doublet and a shiny cloth-of-gold cape, nodding with approval every time the king pronounced a sentence. Sansa stared hard at his ugly face, remembering how he had thrown down her father for Ser Ilyn to behead, wishing she could hurt him, wishing that some hero would throw him down and cut off his head.

—A Game of Thrones - Sansa VI

* * *

“You are refusing to obey my order?” “You can stick your order up your bastard’s arse,” said Slynt, his jowls quivering. […] “As you will.” Jon nodded to Iron Emmett. “Please take Lord Janos to the Wall—” […] “—and hang him,” Jon finished. […] This is wrong, Jon thought. “Stop.” […] “I will not hang him,” said Jon. “Bring him here.” “Oh, Seven save us,” he heard Bowen Marsh cry out. The smile that Lord Janos Slynt smiled then had all the sweetness of rancid butter. Until Jon said, “Edd, fetch me a block,” and unsheathed Longclaw. […] The pale morning sunlight ran up and down his blade as Jon clasped the hilt of the bastard sword with both hands and raised it high. “If you have any last words, now is the time to speak them,” he said, expecting one last curse. Janos Slynt twisted his neck around to stare up at him. “Please, my lord. Mercy. I’ll … I’ll go, I will, I …” No, thought Jon. You closed that door. Longclaw descended. “Can I have his boots?” asked Owen the Oaf, as Janos Slynt’s head went rolling across the muddy ground. “They’re almost new, those boots. Lined with fur.”

—A Dance with Dragons - Jon II

As you can see from the two famous quotes above, Sansa wished for a hero to cut off Janos Slynt’s ugly head as punishment for his participation in Ned’s death, and four books later Jon Snow beheaded Janos Slynt using his sword Longclaw, honoring the Stark way, to avenge Ned’s death.

You might think that only shippers would think that beheadings are romantic, but did you know that, in universe, “heroes chopping off heads” actually has romantic connotations?

Because, believe it or not, inside the A Song of Ice and Fire Universe, chopping off heads is a love language. Let’s see:

One of the Mountain’s men had tried to rape the girl at Harrenhal, and had seemed honestly perplexed when Jaime commanded Ilyn Payne to take his head off. “I had her before, a hunnerd times,” he kept saying as they forced him to his knees. “A hunnerd times, m'lord. We all had her.” When Ser Ilyn presented Pia with his head, she had smiled through her ruined teeth.

[…] “Ser Harwyn says those tales are lies.” Lady Amerei wound a braid around her finger. “He has promised me Lord Beric’s head. He’s very gallant.” She was blushing beneath her tears.

Jaime thought back on the head he’d given to Pia. He could almost hear his little brother chuckle. Whatever became of giving women flowers? Tyrion might have asked.

—A Feast for Crows - Jaime IV

Credits to this clever anon.

But these two examples from Jaime’s A Feast for Crows fourth chapter aren’t the only ones. The most romantics examples are brought to us by the flamboyant Tyroshi, Daario Naharis:

“Khaleesi,” he cried, “I bring gifts and glad tidings. The Stormcrows are yours.” A golden tooth gleamed in his mouth when he smiled. “And so is Daario Naharis!”

Dany was dubious. If this Tyroshi had come to spy, this declaration might be no more than a desperate plot to save his head. “What do Prendahl na Ghezn and Sallor say of this?”

“Little.” Daario upended the sack, and the heads of Sallor the Bald and Prendahl na Ghezn spilled out upon her carpets. “My gifts to the dragon queen.”

[…] “Why?”

“Because you are so beautiful.”

[…] “Draw your sword and swear it to my service.”

In a blink, Daario’s arakh was free of its sheath. His submission was as outrageous as the rest of him, a great swoop that brought his face down to her toes. “My sword is yours. My life is yours. My love is yours. My blood, my body, my songs, you own them all. I live and die at your command, fair queen.”

—A Storm of Swords - Daenerys IV

* * *

The Tyroshi sellsword was not a good man, no one needed to tell her that. Under the smiles and the jests he was dangerous, even cruel. Sallor and Prendahl had woken one morning as his partners; that very night he’d given her their heads.

—A Storm of Swords - Daenerys V

* * *

Strong Belwas seized Ser Jorah by the arm and dragged him out. When Dany glanced back, the knight was walking as if drunk, stumbling and slow.

[…] “You need not even say the word, my radiance. Only give the tiniest nod, and your Daario shall fetch you back his ugly head.”

—A Storm of Swords - Daenerys VI

* * *

On the road to Yunkai, when Daario tossed the heads of Sallor the Bald and Prendahl na Ghezn at her feet, her children made a feast of them.

—A Dance with Dragons - Daenerys II

* * *

“Kill them all and take their treasures, I say. Whisper the command, and your Daario will make you a pile of their heads taller than this pyramid.” “If I knew who they were—”

—A Dance with Dragons - Daenerys IV

* * *

Other nights she tossed in her bed, imagining that he’d betrayed her, as he had once betrayed his fellow captains in the Stormcrows. He brought me their heads.

—A Dance with Dragons - Daenerys V

* * *

“Marry me, and we can have all the nights forever.”

If I could, I would. Khal Drogo had been her sun-and-stars, but he had been dead so long that Daenerys had almost forgotten how it felt to love and be loved. Daario had helped her to remember. I was dead and he brought me back to life. I was asleep and he woke me. My brave captain. Even so, of late he grew too bold. On the day that he returned from his latest sortie, he had tossed the head of a Yunkish lord at her feet and kissed her in the hall for all the world to see, until Barristan Selmy pulled the two of them apart. Ser Grandfather had been so wroth that Dany feared blood might be shed. “We cannot wed, my love. You know why.”

—A Dance with Dragons - Daenerys VII

Credits to this clever anon. And to this one and to @chispas-and-broken-bindings for this compilation.

See? Nothing says true love like decapitation (credits to themiddleliddle for the tag).

Jon Snow doesn’t know he’s made a maiden’s wish come true, Sansa doesn’t know that Jon has became the hero she wished for. And their mutual ignorance of each other’s actions and wishes is what makes the execution of Janos Slynt truly romantic.

And something tells me that Sansa’s reaction when she find’s out that Jon Snow chopped off Janos’s ugly head won’t be different from Pia’s smile or Lady Amerei’s blushing or Dany’s bold passion and public exhibition of affection.

Only in the World of Ice and Fire you can build romance with beheadings and stuff [wink to @riahchan].

More about Jon/Sansa and Janos Slynt here:

Jon Snow: The silent, unknown and unthought answer to Sansa’s hopes

Jon Snow: The silent, unknown and unthought answer to Sansa’s hopes 2.0

Sansa: There are no heroes / Jon: Hold my beer

GRRM and Janos Slynt’s execution

Jon, Sansa and courtesies

Janos Memes

* * *

Excerpt from this post: Sansa Stark & Beheadings

#sansa stark #jon snow #sansa x jon #jon x sansa #jonsa #janos slynt #jaime lannister #daaro naharis