All The Things I Love

27. She/her. I have fallen deep down the Henry Cavill hole and don’t plan on crawling my way out anytime soon. Header credit to dcsicons

[myloversthesunrise]

The Batboys Fancast but they're actually brown and not european or Henry Cavill

Akash Kumar as Rhysand

Honestly he's really ethnic for Rhysand while I envision Rhysand as mixed or wasian (white-asian) but he's perfect for him

Vivek Dhiman as Cassian

walimn (ig) as Azriel

[shewriteswhenthewordscome]

What happens when you are neighbors with a certain man who wears grey sweats all the time?

Gray Sweatpants Season

@littlefreya I hope you don't mind I made this a Syverson one-shot.

word count: 2002

warnings: none, unless you don't like the idea of giving Sy a blow job

You’d been in the neighborhood about as long as the guy next door. Your schedules had a few overlaps, but they never matched up with block parties or other neighborhood get-togethers. All you knew of him was from other people…and what you saw. Like right now: he was in his backyard, working out, shirtless in gray sweatpants. Bastard. God, he looked delicious.

Matthew Syverson: retired Army captain; Southern; bulky and muscular, but not intimidatingly so; gentle to animals, especially his own; sexy as fuck. He’d nod in greeting if you happened to pass each other outside. Honestly, you should thank him. He was the sole reason you’d taken up walking as everyday movement, just to get a glimpse of him. Walking wouldn’t get you noticed right now, though. Weeding would.

You slipped into a pair of leggings and a cropped t-shirt, grabbed your gardening gloves and a bag, then headed to your own backyard. You started along the wall opposite your shared fence, so if he turned he’d see you out. It was about 15 minutes of busywork before it paid off. “Hey, missy, you missed a spot!” You put down the clump of weeds you’d just picked and turned around.

“I’m sorry”, you responded. 

Syverson pointed to the left of you. “That there’s gonna choke out the bulbs you planted.” You smiled internally: he had been paying as much attention to you as you had to him, and just as surreptitiously. “Lemme hose off ‘n I’ll come help ya.” You gave him a genteel smile and nodded your consent.

A couple of minutes later, Syverson hopped the low fence and strode across the yard. You enjoyed the view of the sun glinting off the drops of water falling from his face and chest. Those gray sweatpants fit just right, goddamn. Tight enough at the waist and through the thigh to see how well-muscled and defined he was, but not so tight that it looked purposeful. He walked with a relaxed confidence that oozed virility. He knew what he was and he didn’t hide it, but he wasn’t a standard asshole about it.

When he reached you, he knelt down beside you and stuck out his hand. “Matt Syverson. My friends call me Syverson. My close friends call me Sy.” You wondered if he was insinuating something. “Now, I know your name, but I wanna hear you say it”, he drawled, his eyes dropping to your mouth. Oh fuck, you thought. He’s good.

“Y/N”, you replied, taking his hand. He held it tenderly and shook it firmly, obviously a practiced skill. You wondered what else his hands could do. “I know common weeds, but I’m still not familiar with all the ones in this part of the country. I’ve only been here a little over a year, but I was in an apartment until I bought this place.”

Syverson nodded. “I got ya”, he said. “I’ll give you a primer.” For the next hour, he talked you through all the problem plants and bugs, differentiated the good weeds from the bad, and worked right along with you. Every so often, you noticed his gaze skim over you, but he was a perfect gentlemen. He could crouch for a good long time, allowing you to map out the ropy muscles in his thighs. This man was carved from granite, he was so beautiful. “Okay, darlin’, how ‘bout some water?”

“Oh my goodness”, you blurted. “I’m so sorry! Come inside. Please.” You stood, then bent to grab the bag of weeds, now full, to dump in the yard waste bin. When you turned to get your gloves, you found Syverson leaned back and watching. He had your gloves in his hand and his eyes on yours: intense, with a little smirk pulling up the corners of his mouth. “Don’t be shy, Sy”, you said. “On your feet.” The smirk spread into a smile and Syverson stood to follow you.

You had no idea what his intentions were, but if you could get a hot & heavy makeout maybe even a fingering, you’d be happy. It had been too long and you needed a little sexual healing. He seemed interested and amenable. I hope I’m not reading into this, you silently prayed. You stomped the dirt off your shoes before toeing them off. You stepped aside to hold the door for Syverson and watched in surprised bemusement as he did the same. A man who can take a hint is so fucking hot, you marveled. 

“Can I ask you a question”, Syverson inquired quietly. You tipped your head and he nodded. Expecting him to continue, you were left breathless when he pinned you to the wall with his broad body. “Are you feelin’ what I’m feelin’?” He leaned in and inhaled deeply at your neck, then rumbled low in your ear, “Because I’ve had my eye on you, and word on the street is yours is on me. True?” 

You took a second to collect yourself before answering. “True”, you said, in a seductive tone you hadn’t intended. This man brought the cat in heat out of you. You wanted to pull down his filled-out sweatpants to see if reality matched your imagination. Instead, you turned your head, putting your mouth near his, and said, “I’ve heard the same about you. Seems we’ve some catching up to do.” With no preamble, Syverson licked at your top lip before taking it between his. You nipped at his bottom lip, then captured it between your own. He tipped your head up and locked his mouth to yours. Your tongues danced a sultry tango until you had to breathe.

Syverson crossed his arms above your head, leaning against the wall. He rolled his body into yours, groins touching for a split second. He wasn’t even hard, but you could tell he was substantial. You wrapped your arms around his waist, bringing him back to you, before sliding your hands down to his ass. They were much too small to palm the ample flesh there, but it gave you an excuse to run your hands over him. A small whimper escaped his throat and his pelvis began a slow rhythm against your lower belly. As he stiffened, random breaths were punctuated with soft groans. You loved a vocal man who let you play. You broke the kiss and looked him deep in the eyes. He reciprocated, rubbing harder against you. He was in no rush, though: he kept the same speed, he just wanted more friction.

You slipped your hands into the front of his waistband and gently brought the sweatpants down as you knelt. “Girl, don’t you dare”, he warned playfully. “Turnabout and all that.” You didn’t say a word as you kept lowering his pants. He was going commando. Apropos for a military vet, you thought. When his cock bounced out from the elastic waist, your eyes grew wide for a second. Hallelujah, you silently praised. Expectations met. As he was fully revealed, your hands instinctively went for his thick, hard length, uncut and silky to the touch. You leaned in and took one side of his sack in your mouth, gently nibbling and running your tongue over it. You gripped him tight and started pumping, while your free hand guided him to turn against the wall.

Syverson groaned, leaning back and sliding down into a wall sit. You sat back on your heels, getting comfortable. You didn’t think it would take him long to reward you with a milky jetstream, because whatever inhibitions this man may have had were clearly gone. He braced himself by straightening his arms beside him, but every so often he’d bang the wall with his fist. You realized fairly quickly it was his way of telling you what worked: swirling your tongue over the head; pumping him low near the base while you sucked the top; taking him deep and swallowing; even stopping altogether and allowing shallow thrusts. At one point, he put his finger under your jaw, forcing you off. He grabbed you by the back of the neck and kissed you hard; the first time a man didn’t seem to mind tasting himself. Without realizing it, one hand had worked its way into your leggings to give yourself some relief. You were soaked with arousal, but you really wanted to watch him cum, so you didn’t stroke too much. 

Syverson didn’t either. “Uh uh”, he panted. “Slow down, sweetpea. I want some-a that juicy peach when yer finished.” He gently pushed your head down, and you took him to the back of your throat, letting him rub the head of his cock there. “Fuck, girl. You know what yer doin’” - he gasped and moaned as you found his puckered opening. You’d used the finger you touched yourself with, slick with your own nectar, and circled his hole. His pelvis started rocking again, and you knew you’d found his sweet spot. “Oh yeah… oh fuck… oh my god…” he mumbled, almost a chant. You felt him thicken, signaling he was close.

Every breath was accentuated with a groan, while his hips worked in short, hard thrusts. “I’m close”, he whispered. “I’m right there…” You removed your finger and pushed him to the floor. Your head bobbed up and down, while your mouth sucked hard. “I hope this is what you wanted, cuz here I cum”, he warned, stilling. His cock throbbed and you readied yourself. The first spurt shot straight down your throat. He sighed, only to grunt when the second stream issued forth. The wantonness of it was so sexy, you almost came listening to him. He couldn’t keep quiet if he tried, and he didn’t try. 

You cupped his balls, to see if they’d relaxed, and he groaned loudly. “Lie down”, you ordered, and he didn’t hesitate. “Such a good boy”, you purred. His gaze was intense and his cock jumped at the praise. You grinned wickedly and took his balls in your mouth again. You wiggled the tip of your finger into his ass, and he keened, pounding the wall. You took the head of his cock in hand, circling it firmly while your mouth and finger worked. You looked up and saw his abs tighten, chest heaving as he tried to control his breathing through the moans. You didn’t let up: you knew he had another orgasm in him. You bit at the skin of his sack, stretching it a little. He cried out, quaking. He was so overwhelmed, he couldn’t focus his attention. He whined as he came again, hands over his face. 

When he calmed down, he asked “What did I do to deserve that?” You reached for his sweatpants and held them up. He cocked an eyebrow, before understanding washed over his face. “I mean, shit”, he said sheepishly. “I got three more pairs. Do I get this treatment every time I wear 'em?” You crawled up to kiss him, sharing his own taste with him. 

“Only if you stay a good boy”, you teased. You felt his cock twitch. You turned to see it harden again. “You got another one in you?”

Syverson flipped you onto the floor. “Yes, but not until I service you. I might faint if I don’t get a break.” You lay still and let Syverson work his magic. He was so worth the wait! His third orgasm surprised you, happening as he made you cum. The thought of it prolonged your pleasure, which he loved. He hadn’t even been inside you, and you already knew he was the best lay you ever had. He stretched out next to you, leaning on his elbow. “What should we do now?”

“Fuck in the shower, then have lunch”, you suggested. Syverson agreed, with the caveat that you went another round after lunch. “You know, sir, that sounds like an excellent plan.” Afternoon set, you led Sy to your bathroom. Gray sweatpants season was definitely the best season.

Tags: @beck07990 @kebabgirl67 @peachyvulpixie @sillyrabbit81 @eldarwen333 @nuggsmum @angryschnauzer @captainsy-cookiemonster @gearhead66 @est1887 @bourbonwithice @identity2212

[tadpolesonalgae]

Lucien x reader: Dance The Night Away - Drabble

A/N: I’ve been seeing a lot of Lucien things recently and I’m taking it as a sign to give him some much needed attention

Summary: Damn can he sweep you off your feet.

Warnings: a smidge of sexual tension, Lucien

The first time you’d met him, you’d received a mouthful of snark, every word that slid from the males tongue dripping with sardonic poison, the kind designed to provoke and rile. It was only after a while of knowing him, growing accustomed to his offset rhythm and matching it with your own syncopated beat that you became closer. The layers peeled back, revealing his soft centre, the heart that seemed to bleed endlessly.

Beneath all of his wit and humour, burning away the soft sarcasm paired with the salacious grins was a male who had no home. He’d had to flee his own court, and never truly settled into Spring. Not after Ianthe. Even after decades had passed.

“You look completely miserable,” you comment, glancing at him through your peripherals, seeing how his mouth was stretched taut in a good natured smile. His brow dips, “these events would bore even a scholar to death.” His grimace becomes more prominent, mouth tilting in a downward motion knowing how long these festivals drag on for.

His comment draws a chuckle from you, his eyes sliding to you, his mouth quirking genuinely for the first time that evening. You turn toward him, downing the rest of your glass before setting it on the table behind you, “want to spice things up a little, Lu?” There’s a spark in your eye he knows means trouble, but in a situation as monotonous as this, who is he to reject a little fun? Especially upon such a dull evening.

A grin lifts to his mouth, “that depends what depravity you have in mind.” He sips his drink, feigning disinterest, “you could suggest anything from commencing a public orgy to poisoning the liquor supply.” Your lips match his own in a wicked grin, “and you’re as boring as the rest to turn up your nose at the opportunity.”

He rolls his eyes, the mechanical ball whirring slightly faster with the action, “I thought you were supposed to be on best behaviour tonight,” he returns, the grin never dropping. “There’s nothing wrong with a dance,” you purr, latching your gaze onto his over the rim of his glass, “I doubt the Fae here even know how to dance less than three feet from their partner.”

Embers spark in his eye as he pretends to roll them, but he still finishes off his glass, setting the flute down flush against yours. Without warning his strong arms hooks around your waist, tugging you firmly against the powerful lines of his body, hips pressing tight against one another as he smirks down at you, “let’s see if you can keep up, Princess.” Then he’s whisking you away onto the dance floor, keeping you flushed against him, not even an inch of space tucked between you.

Finally, a flicker of fire from the Autumn Court male.

“I was wondering how long you’d be moping for,” you push, following his lead as he spins you to each beat, every movement full to the brim with graceful fluidity as they blend together. “Looks like all you needed was a little push to get you burning tonight.” His grin is cutting as he gazes down at you, a sharp light sparking in his amber eye, “careful when you’re playing with fire.” His grip tightens on your waist as he sweeps you across the room, your feet barely registering the movement as you’re practically flown across the dance floor, “you’ll get caught up in the blaze.”

“I’ve always loved your fire, what makes you think I’ll run?” You challenge, eyes latching up onto his, heat flaring between you but maybe that was from the physical movement. Nothing to do with the powerful traction that had been dragging you closer for months now.

“Dangerous words, don’t you think?” Lucien purrs as you sweep around another couple, completing a full rotation of the large hall. Over his shoulder, your eyes latch onto the figure of the High Lord though his gaze is resting on Lucien. You’re an afterthought. His words register in your mind as a grin lifts your lips, “we’ve never been ones to shy from the truth.”

“Is that so?” He taunts, speeding your steps, forcing you to tighten your hold on his broad shoulders as to not careen of course from the momentum, “and what ‘truth’ would this be?”

“You need to stop being such a tightass,” you remark, pleased when his eye widens. “You and your mouth,” he grins, faux dismay coating his tone despite the underlying affection, “what would our High Lord think of a lady using such vulgar language?”

You shrug, not at all perturbed by his comment, “I simply mean, you need a way to unwind, blow off some steam. You hardly let yourself relax, and it’s not good for you.”

“Is that the reason for the dancing? A way to unwind? Blow of some steam?”

“That and you’re a shameless flirt when you’re drunk.”

“I’m not drunk.”

“Your hand is far too low for you to be sober.”

His hand flicks back up to rest at your waist, heat flushing his cheeks. “Did I say there was something wrong?” You inquire, flashing him a devious smirk. “Who’s the shameless flirt now?” He fires back, grip tightening on your lower back. “We haven’t even begun, princeling,” you taunt, mirroring his earlier comment, “and I appreciate you’re not denying your amorous habits. It’s a step in the right direction.”

“Dare I ask what direction?”

“Whichever way your bedroom is.”

“Blesséd Mother,” he curses beneath his breath.

“Call me that one more time and you definitely won’t be going to bed alone tonight.”

[acourtofwhatthefuck]

Our Home (Azriel x Reader)

Hiiii. This one has long been in the works. It's the follow-up part to this little one I did called "Why Are You Still Here?"

Hope you enjoy!

Warnings: Some alcohol use. Angst. Discussions surrounding mental health. Suggestion of infidelity.

✧: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

You were not where you wanted to be. And you did not know where you fit anymore.

Solace had once been the home you’d made your own. It had once been the warmth and security of your mate’s arms. A life. A belonging.

It was never supposed to be dark, dingy taverns and drinking yourself to oblivion. You were aware of your hypocrisy — that you were now no better than Azriel, himself, had been.

But you didn’t know what else to do. How else to keep patching over the wound that was opening you up from the inside.

Three days and nights away from Azriel felt like three centuries. Three days and nights spent on Amren’s couch, your ears barely catching the way she groused at you about making things up with your mate — and getting out of her hair. You knew that she only had your best interests at heart; a swarm of concern wrapped up in sharp, barbed words and orders. 

Stop sulking, girl, and speak to your mate. Wallowing on the couch and taking up my space doesn’t do either of you any good. If he knocks on my door and asks to speak to you again, I’m letting him in this time. Stupid, foolish children in love.

You knew that she was right. You’d asked Az to give you a few days…and for what? So you could get yourself into a clear enough headspace to talk to him.

So, no, the wisest choice had not been to end up in a bar on the other side of town — but here you were. If Azriel could spend months upon months pushing you away, indulging in self-serving vices…so could you.

You whiled away the hours on refills of whiskey and off-kilter music and the presence of numerous males coming up to you and offering to buy you another drink — all of which you politely turned away. You weren’t there for attention, or to feel wanted…the mere thought of looking at somebody other than your mate—

It took you right back to the possibility that Azriel may have done just that. That he’d come stumbling home after hours of unexplained absence, stinking to the high heavens of booze and cloying perfume. You wanted — needed — to believe that there was some other, reasonable explanation. That there was no way the male tied to your soul would fall into the arms of somebody else.

But the truth was that you just did not know anymore. He’d successfully pushed you away enough to fill you with doubt.

The feeling was far worse than any battle wound. Far more excruciating than the critical injury you’d received during the war with Hybern. This pain was like a sickness, spreading through you, slicing at you, becoming you. This pain could tear you apart, limb from limb.

“The same again, please.” You rasped, sliding your empty glass towards the pretty barmaid. She eyed you cautiously before fulfilling your request. The amber liquid didn’t burn quite as much this time. 

But it seemed that no amount of alcohol was giving you the desired effect. Drink after drink after drink, and you still didn’t feel it seeping into your bones and blood and carrying you off to a place that wasn’t as painful. You may as well have been pouring the drinks straight onto the floor, rather than down your throat.

Still, you remained sitting at that same spot at the bar, nursing your drink and studying the nicks and callouses of your weapon-worn hands as your heavy thoughts bombarded you. Where would you sleep tonight? You were sure Amren would growl at you if you turned up at her door again. You could go to the River House, but you didn’t want to cause any disruption or upset for Nyx. And it seemed that both the House of Wind and the Town House were a no-go — that Az could be staying at either. Something told you that he was unlikely to be at the house you shared together, but…you didn’t want to go there, either.

Perhaps you would just drink yourself so stupid that you’d eventually curl up on a bench and fall asleep without feeling the cold.

The cold. It swept in, encasing you from behind as somebody entered the tavern, their heavy footsteps carrying across the wooden floor. You paid them no mind, not interested in the various other punters around you. You hunched over your drink, tracing your finger over the rim of the glass, and you didn’t bother to look up even when the stool was pulled out beside you.

“Before you say anything,” you murmured, too used, now, to the sleazy routine of the males around you, “no, you cannot buy me a drink.” 

“Good.” Azriel’s voice came quietly from beside you. “I don’t think it’d be wise for you to have another.”

That voice — deep and smooth and rich. A voice that had spoken countless I love yous, that had breathed quiet laughs at your shared, inside jokes, that had moaned your name in peace and pleasure. A voice that had always been a comfort to you.

It now twisted your stomach. Filled you with a sickening anxiety. You no longer knew what words would be spoken in that voice. You weren’t sure you were ready for them.

Your body tense, you slowly turned your head to meet your mate’s eyes. The look that sat on his face, in his hazel stare…it was one of beautiful agony. Of stunning, twisted devastation.

A flawless face marred by pain.

Azriel studied you, and you couldn’t help wondering what he saw on your face. Besides your cheeks being flushed from the alcohol, and your eyes red-raw from days of weeping. Whatever he found there…it made him flinch.

“What are you doing here?” You willed your voice to sound strong, but it was weak. Pathetic. 

“I followed your scent from Amren’s apartment to here.” He swallowed. “And given that this was where we had our first drink together…”

You looked around. Pretended that such a thought hadn’t dawned on you, even though that exact spot in the corner was where you and Azriel had sat for hours that first night, drinking and talking and laughing. 

You’d known, by the time that he’d walked you home, that you were going to spend the rest of your existence with him.

Or so you’d thought. You weren’t so sure, now.

“Finish your drink.” Azriel nodded to your glass. “We’re going home.”

You snorted, turning back to your glass. The liquid sloshed as you lifted it to your lips. “That’s not been home for a long while. It’s just…bricks and mortar and pain.”

He paused. “That’s not true.”

“Is it not, Azriel? You can’t seem to stand spending any time there, either—”

“I want to talk to you about all of this, Y/N.” He stared at you seriously. Pleadingly. “Just…not here. Please.”

Because Azriel was a staunchly private person.

And maybe he didn’t love you anymore. The thought — though complete agony — was entirely possible.

But he wouldn’t end your relationship in the same place it had begun. 

So you drained your glass, savouring the feeling of the liquid sliding down your throat. And then you set it down on the bar, and turned to face him.

“Where is your coat?” He studied the thin tunic and breeches that did nothing to keep out the cold.

You shrugged a shoulder. “Left it at Amren’s, I guess.” 

“It’s freezing outside.”

“Oh, now you care—”

The clearing of a throat stopped you both in your tracks. You glanced at the young barmaid who stared between the two of you uncomfortably. She had the same look that most people adopted in Azriel’s presence — awe and fear at their High Lord’s spymaster.

“I’m sorry, but,” she cleared her throat again, straightening out her shoulders, “if you two are going to have a domestic, I’m going to have to ask you to take it outside…”

Beside you, Azriel’s cheeks pinkened. “We’re not.” He said brusquely. “We’re leaving.”

Before you could offer your own response, he was tugging you from the barstool and draping his heavy jacket around your shoulders. It swamped you a ridiculous amount, and when he actually stopped in front of you to fasten the buttons, you scowled and stepped out of reach.

“I’m not a child.” You said. “Let’s just…go.”

It was hard to not feel like a child as you meandered your way to the door in that preposterously large coat, the arms swinging and the material swallowing you up. Azriel remained a step behind, following you out into the icy night air. You walked a few paces in a still silence, only stopping to face him when you were well out of earshot of the bar. 

“So.” It was instinctive — the way you wrapped his jacket around yourself. Not something you were wholly aware of doing. Though you were certainly aware of the way you very pointedly sniffed it, looking for some trace of that sweet scent you’d smelled before. But…nothing. “Which house do you want to finish with me in? Ours? The Town House? The House of Wind? We could go to the River House, but I don’t think Rhys or Feyre would appreciate the performance—-”

“Is that what you think?” Azriel cut you off, the pain on his face moulding into something stiller. Icier. “That I’m finishing our relationship?”

You shrugged. And you hated — utterly hated — being so confrontational. This wasn’t you. And some small part of it could be blamed on the alcohol, yes, but…mostly…mostly, you were just at your wit’s end.

After months of trying to reach him calmly, compassionately. Months and months of trying to talk to him gently, to get him to open up to you. It had gotten you nowhere.

You felt your only option, now, was to shuck off that soft, soothing exterior, and go hard. Go real. 

“I don’t know what to think,” you retorted. “You don’t speak to me anymore — besides the occasional grunt. And given that I’m not a gods-damned mind-reader—”

“I am not finishing things with you.” Azriel snapped — so loud, so harsh, so unlike him, that you stopped in your tracks. “Not now, and not ever.”

You stared at him, already feeling your hard demeanour slipping. The words — though a small relief — were hard to believe. Hard to believe, when he’d given you no indication for a long, long time that he even wanted you anymore.

You shrugged weakly, begging your eyes not to tear up. “But what kind of relationship is this, Az? Months and months of silence. Of coldness. What am I supposed to think?”

“...I’ve handled things so badly. But I’d like a chance to explain.”

Perhaps it was the muted pleading in his eyes, the hunching of his shoulders. How he looked the smallest he ever had. Or perhaps it was just because he was your mate…whatever the reason, you found yourself relenting. You swallowed, crossing your arms over your chest and silently nodding towards a bench that overlooked the river. Az dipped his chin in acknowledgement of the request and promptly followed suit. 

You sat, leaving distance between the two of you. Az tucked his wings in as tight as he possibly could; uncomfortable for him, you knew, but he was respectful of the fact that you wanted space. A small glimmer of the Azriel you’d always known and loved.

He seemed to suck in a slow breath, twisting his scarred hands around each other. You could feel the nerves that rolled off of him in waves. This – speaking and baring his soul — was perhaps harder for him than outright combat. 

You cleared your throat. “Before you start…I need to ask you something.”

Hazel eyes turned to study you. Azriel gave a small nod. 

“I have to know if you…” The words tasted sour and wrong in your mouth. In your whole body, in fact. You were sure a shiver shot through you as you blurted in one breath, “I just need to know if you fucked somebody else.”

Azriel paused — and then blinked at you.

Gaped at you, like the suggestion in and of itself was utterly absurd.

As if he hadn’t come home stinking of perfume. As if he hadn’t lied about his whereabouts when you’d asked. As if you were wrong to so much as think it, let alone voice it.

He shook his head, still blinking. “What?”

“Perhaps you were too drunk that night to remember.” Your lips pressed into a thin line. “You disappeared on me for hours, Az, like you always seem to these days. Then you come home smelling of perfume and lie to me that you’d been with Mor when I knew you couldn’t have been. So tell me. Honestly. Did you fuck someone who isn’t me?”

“Of course I didn’t. I would never do that to you. Do you know how sick it makes me feel, just thinking of being with someone other than you?”

He couldn’t possibly have a clue how much you needed to hear that. But they were just words. He’d done nothing to back them up for so, so long.

Your eyes filled with tears as you stared at him. “But you can’t seem to stand being with me, either.”

His own eyes shuttered — as though he was trying to block out your words. He slumped back on the bench, wings awkward and limp around him. You could see his chest heaving, hear his heavy breathing. 

“I don’t—” His voice cracked. “I’m no good with words. I’m no good with…with talking.”

“But I can’t take the silence or the loneliness anymore. Azriel, please—”

“I was with someone that night.”

He blurted the words in such a rush, you almost didn’t catch them. His hands squeezed into fists at his sides, as though the mere feeling of speaking so earnestly was like peeling his skin off.

You fell so, so still. Stared at him. Your stomach plummeted, twisted, and your voice didn’t sound like yours as you croaked out, “who?” 

“That night, I…I was with Madja.”

It was all you could do to stare at him. And as Madja’s face floated through your mind — the old, withered, beloved healer of Velaris…you could do nothing but stare. 

“Is that supposed to be funny?” You demanded.

Az stared down at his hands. “Of course not. A little while ago, I started regularly visiting Madja.”

“...Why? Are you injured?” Your eyes immediately searched him for anything you might have missed. And yet — nothing. 

He shook his head. “Physically, I’m fine, but…in here?” He tapped a finger to his forehead. Moved that finger down to sit over his heart. “And here? I’m…I’m not. I’m not fine.”

Those cold, hard walls you’d thrown up to get you through this conversation…you felt them falter a little. You swallowed, studying your mate. “I don’t understand, Az…”

Finally — finally — he angled his body towards yours. Faced you. And the raw emotion that lay in his eyes…you almost couldn’t bear it. It could cut you. Cut you into pieces and scatter you to the wind. 

Tears were clouding his vision, muddying that hazel into a watery run of colour. He blinked, his lips quivering as those tears spilled over and ran down his cheeks. It was second nature for you to reach out and wipe them away, but he stopped you in your tracks. Allowed his tears to run free as he held onto your hand like he may never get another chance. 

“When I try to sleep at night,” his voice cracked. “When I close my eyes — do you know what I see?”

You swallowed down your own emotion, shaking your head. You’d known of him sleeping fitfully, of course — if he bothered to sleep in the same bed as you at all. But you’d never been overly aware of it.

He blinked another wave of tears away. “I see you in that healer’s tent after the war, covered in blood. I hear—” He cut himself off, voice once again hitching with his emotion. “I hear your screams of pain. Your cries. I hear you begging someone — anyone — to make it go away. I see your face turning far too pale. And I hear, over and over and over again, the moment that Madja told me there was a chance you wouldn’t make it.”

You were unable to stop your own tears forming again. You squeezed his hand, face creasing with pain. “Azriel—”

“It haunts me.” He whispered. “Because what you and I have…I never thought I’d have this. I never thought I’d find my mate. I never thought I’d be able to have such happiness. So when Madja told me there was a chance she wouldn’t be able to save you…I didn’t know what I was going to do. I didn’t know how I was going to go on.”

“But she did save me, Az.” You scooted closer. “She did.”

“I just…I came so close to losing you. To losing the love of my life. It sent me spiralling into this mindset of being scared all the damn time. Every time you left the house, or I had to go on a mission…I was losing my mind with it, Y/N. And I was so terrified of ever feeling that way again that it seemed so much easier to push you away. I was too selfish to let you go completely. I thought if I could just…have you at arm’s length…at least until I sorted myself out…” 

You stared forward. Everything seemed to click into place as you rasped, “which was why you distanced yourself from me.”

Az nodded. And he was unable to stop the sob that broke from him. “But I just ended up hurting you. And I’m so sorry.”

You couldn’t bear a second longer of it — of seeing him so crushed, so defeated. And even though you, too, were a crying mess, you found the strength to slide into his lap. To wrap your arms around him and allow him to rest his head on your shoulder.

“You should have just told me how you were feeling.” You whispered, stroking his hair. His body heaved beneath you as he cried, raw and unguarded. “I would have listened. I would have helped. I love you.”

“And I love you.” He shook. “More than I could possibly put into words. But I was so scared of losing you. And ironically, in my efforts to avoid that…I’ve come so, so close to it happening.”

You shook your head. Lifted his until he was looking at you. And it was like that, his face inches from yours, that you promised him the same thing you’d promised long ago. “You will never lose me. Ever. You are my mate, and I am yours. We love each other, when we’re happy and fine, and when we’re not. This is our life, Azriel. We can’t avoid living it in some pointless bid to outrun death.”

For a moment, he just…studied you. As if your words cleared months and months of accumulated fog and cobwebs, and helped him to see what was right in front of him. That you were right in front of him.

You had survived the war. So had he. 

The two of you deserved to live — together. 

“I can’t tell you how sorry I am. A little while ago, I started to visit Madja for help with these feelings. I knew I couldn’t go on like this.” He explained. “But I don’t — I swear to you, I never went near anybody else. I wouldn’t. I couldn’t.”

And you knew that. Gods, you knew it. You almost felt foolish for even thinking it, but…you supposed, like him, you’d gotten so far inside your head, you didn’t know the way out.

One thing did linger in the back of your mind, though. Torturing you a little. You swallowed, wiping Az’s cheeks free of tears as you asked, “what of the perfume you smelled of?” 

Again, his eyes shuttered. He bowed his head slightly to touch yours. “Check my jacket pocket.”

Frowning, you paused. And then slid your hands into both pockets of the jacket you still wore. It was in the front left one that your hand enclosed around what felt like a small, glass vial. You plucked it out, tilting your head. 

“Smell it.” Az instructed softly.

Your eyes met his. And slowly, you pulled the stopper out of the vial and lifted it to your nose. 

The smell hit you immediately. That same smell — undoubtedly — that had clung to his clothes that night. A little too sweet for your liking, slightly floral…you grimaced, stoppering the little bottle once more. “What is it?” You asked. 

“Madja has been helping me to open up…to get better at voicing my thoughts and feelings.” Azriel explained quietly. “And along with that, she made me this tonic. It has soothing properties that help me slip into a state of mind ready for a more peaceful sleep. That night you smelt it on me…it was the first time she’d given it to me. I’d applied it right before I’d entered the house, because I wanted to see how well I would sleep. If I could truly get past my nightmares.”

It was your turn for your eyes to shutter then. Guilt swarmed you, brash and unwelcome. “And I ruined your sleep by starting a fight and storming out.”

Azriel’s face turned serious. “You had every right to confront me the way you did that night. I should have told you sooner what was going on. That I was seeking help. I should have avoided hurting both of us like this.”

You sighed softly, tugging him closer once more. Your strange, complicated mate…the male you loved happily and proudly.

He’d been hurting. Struggling. You should have known.

But then…you’d been hurting and struggling, too. The aftermath of war wasn’t easy for anyone. It wasn’t a case of slipping back into your old life before you’d almost perished on that battlefield. 

You’d both become chewed up and spat out by your own respective grief from that time. And instead of communicating…you’d both taken your eye off the ball. Allowed deep feelings to fester. 

Never again. Never again would you allow this to happen.

“I think we’re all a little broken from the war, Az.” You brushed his hair from his face, staring at him earnestly. “But now that we know what we’re dealing with…we can heal. Together.”

His eyes threatened to well up again. And before you could see the tears form, he was leaning forward and planting a firm kiss against your lips. “I’m so sorry.” He apologised a third time. 

“Shh. No more of that.” You whispered, rocking him. “From this moment on, we move forward.” 

His arms held you tightly against him, warmth seeping into you. You didn’t know how long you sat there for, in each other’s arms, but as a breeze whipped over you, you felt your home calling. Coaxing the two of you back.

“Let’s go home, my love.” You kissed Azriel’s forehead.

He stared at you through wet lashes. “...To our home?”

Not Amren’s apartment. Not the River House or the Town House or the House of Wind.

“Yes.” You laced your fingers through his. “To our home.”

✧: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ azriel tag list:

@hanasakr @positivewitch @ruler-of-hades @brekkershadowsinger @nightscourtt @imperfect0angel @luna-1-3-5 @hyacinthoideshispanica @lucyysthings @lahoete @littlemoonash @blacksstarrynight @azriels-mate123 @ghostly-poetic @frieddesigninspiringquotesslime @a-frog-with-a-laptop @illyriansimp @morrie-rose @passingthroughfireandshadow @illyrian-dreamer @azrielsbabyg @96jnie @mich0731 @mulansaucey @truthtellerfanclub @acourtofbooksandmagic @insightsonmylife @basicbittywitty @curbside-cyanide @acourtofchaosandmess @123345566 @starrynights-frostbites @eos-princess @thesillyyogourt @ona-raising-07-l @acediahamartia @dontfollowmepleaseitsannoying @polli05927 @asdfjklbooks @azriel-luvr @amysangel @humanpersonlasttimeichecked @wildflowernightmere @audie-writes @aaronwarnerswifereal @starxqt @lulufairbank @laurzwrites @livelaughlovenestaarcheron @girlwith-thecinder-blockgarden @emturtles @lostpirateinwonderland @kammsinn @localhopedealerr @pee-stachio @tobifeemo @torchbearerkyle @honeycriess @shadowsingersmate24 @azziessidehoe @camillo-420 @aztheshadowsinger

[kaunis-sielu]

Frozen: State Hockey

“Hey Mom, do we have another ticket for State?” You ask as you pack your suitcase to head home. High school state hockey tournament has been a family tradition for over 30 years at this point and you’re really hoping to bring Thor. You’d love for him to meet your family, and for them to meet him.

“Yea, for all three days why?“

“I’d like to bring my boyfriend.” You tell her and you’re met with silence on the other end.

“Your, you’re dating someone?” She asks sounding surprised, which is fair because you haven’t really talked about Thor to your family. They could be a bit, much, sometimes.

“Yea, we’ve kept it pretty quiet but I’d like to bring him if that’s okay.”

“We’d love that. Can he get a plane ticket that quickly?”

“He should be able to.” You won’t tell her that you’d already bought tickets for both of you and that if there hadn’t been a ticket for him you’d have figured it out when you got there.

Thor picks you up the next morning far too early but you’d wanted to take the early flight and get home so you didn’t have to rush directly to the games.

It’s an uneventful flight, you’d been a little irritated that Thor had secretly upgraded your tickets to first class but you can’t deny that it’s more comfortable, especially for him and his long ass legs. You’d played a couple rounds of cribbage then curled up next to him to sleep.

When you’d landed you’d texted your sister to let her know you’d be out soon, Diana and her husband Bruce were letting you and Thor stay with them so you didn’t have to stay at your parents. She meets you at the pick up with a big hug and then she sees who your boyfriend is.

“Holy shit.” She whispers, “you’re dating Thor Odinson?”

“Yes. Be cool.” You hiss back and she laughs,

“I’m always cool.” She says with smile then she reaches a hand out for Thor. “Hi I’m Diana, Moxie’s much more fun older sister.” You roll your eyes and Thor chuckles.

“It’s a pleasure. I’m Thor Odinson.”

“Alright let’s go before someone gets pissed we’re taking too long.” You says popping open the trunk and shoving your smaller bag inside. Thor grabs your suitcase before you have a chance to and puts it in the trunk before doing his too.

The ride to Diana and Bruce’s is comfortable, Thor had insisted on sitting in the back so you could chat with Diana but you make sure he’s involved in the conversation.

Bruce isn’t fazed by Thor at all. But being a billionaire since birth has granted him the opportunity to know other professional athletes and celebrities. You hang out, have dinner then head for bed.

“So,” Thor says as you get ready for bed, “where you going to tell me your brother in law is Bruce Wayne?”

“Nah, I also didn’t tell my family that my boyfriend is Thor Odinson.”

“Why?”

“Because you’re more than just your famous name.” You tell him with a shrug and he curls a hand around the back of your head pulling your lips to his.

“That,” he mutters, “may be the sexiest thing you’ve ever said to me.” You laugh softly then click off the light and snuggle in next to him.

You leave right away in the morning for family breakfast. It’s always at the hotel that’s across the street from the arena. Your mom’s brain seems to freeze when she sees and recognizes Thor. But your family, luckily, doesn’t make a huge deal about him.

“This is strange.” Thor says as you walk into the arena through the front doors, “I’ve never come in this way.”

“No player entrance for you.” You tell him with a smile. He’s holding your hand, one of the first times you’ve done so in a public place like this. A couple of younger fans recognize who he is and if they approach quietly Thor gives them an autograph or a photo but if they’re obnoxious about it he declines.

Your family has a box now, Bruce had thrown some money at the tournament a few years back and you’re grateful for it because it allows Thor to relax a bit and really enjoy the games. Your family always picks teams to cheer for, you like to do the underdogs while Diana does the team with the stats on them. Thor picks based off of the first half of the first period which proves to be an effective strategy.

On the last night, with the third place and championship game you decide to go to the Golden Puck, a sit down restaurant in the arena, with Thor to eat. You go to the bathroom and on your way back you’re stopped,

“Well, well, wondered if I’d see you here.”

“Excuse me, you’re in my way.” You say to Carl you don’t want to deal with him.

“Yea? Well I’m talking to you.”

“Give it a rest Carl. I’m not interested in dealing with your bullshit.” You tell him looking past him and making eye contact with Thor whose eyes darken as he stands up. “You should probably move, Thor looks pissed.”

“I don’t give a fuck. You owe me-,”

“She doesn’t owe you shit.” Thor’s voice is low and tight, “now, move out of her way before you cause a scene.” Thor says stepping into Carl’s way and ushering you past the two of them.

“Oh, so I see how it is.” Carl sneers, “you’re a little Puck slut.” You grab Thor’s hand you don’t want him to get into trouble with Carl.

“Let’s go. Let’s go.” You murmur and thankfully Thor doesn’t fight you. Instead, he curls an arm around your shoulders and leads you down a hallway.

“You okay?” He asks you quietly and you nod.

“I hate him so much.” You bury your face in his chest and Thor wraps his arms around you. “We were having such a good weekend.”

“I still am. I’m not going to let that ass ruin the good time. Please don’t let him ruin yours either.” You take a deep breath and nod then step away from him,

“Thank you.”

“For what?”

“For having my back, sticking up for me and knowing what to say to get me out of my head.”

“Moxie that’s what a good partner does. That’s just in the description.” He tells you kissing you softly.

“How are you even real.” You whisper and he laughs.

“I made mistakes in my marriage to Sif. I’ve learned from them and they’ve made me a better man.” You rest your head against his chest and sigh softly.

“Oh my god. We didn’t pay!” You cry pulling away from Thor suddenly and he laughs softly.

“I left more than enough on the table Kattunge.” You blink at him then and he presses a soft kiss to the side of your head as he slips his fingers between yours.

“Thank you.”

“You have nothing to thank me for.”

“I meant for dinner.”

“I meant you have nothing to thank me for.” He repeats with a smile pressing a kiss to the back of your hand.

You head back to the box where Diana is scowling and Bruce looks annoyed and has an ice pack on his hand.

“What happened?”

“Carl came by. Wouldn’t leave so Bruce punched him in the face and security escorted him out.”

“Wish I’d punched him in the face.” Thor grumbles, “Moxie wouldn’t let me.”

“He’s going to sue Bruce so I’m glad you didn’t.” You tell Thor and Bruce grins at you.

“He can’t sue me. Diana goaded him, he pushed me. It was self defense. I have cameras.” He says smirking over at you.

“Oh my god.”

“How long has he been harassing you?” Diana asks and when you give a noncommittal shrug Thor answers for you,

“Every time he sees her since the start of the season.”

“That needs to stop.”

“He hasn’t threatened me, he’s just an asshole. Can we stop talking about this? I want to enjoy the championship game.” Diana opens her mouth to argue but when she sees the look on your face she closes it and sighs.

You don’t talk about Carl again. Thank god. Thor ends up winning the family pool, much to both Bruce and Diana’s disappointment but you’re thrilled. Bruce has won the last two years and you’re so glad that he can’t brag for another year.

“I expect to see the trophy at Thor’s in less than a week.” You tell Bruce as you walk out of the arena.

“Trophy?” Thor asks and you grin up at him.

“Trophy.”

“Fine. Leave your address and I’ll send it.” Bruce grumbles and you laugh softly. When you get back to the house you go to bed, Thor wraps his arm around your waist and slides you flush against him.

“Thank you for inviting me. I had a great time.”

“I’m glad. I’m happy you could come.” You whisper back. Thor presses a soft kiss to your nose and you laugh. “I think you missed.”

“A rarity.” He teases and you hum softly, “let’s see if I can do better this time.” He says before pressing a kiss to your lips.

Much better.

🏒🏒🏒

This is a series of one shots. If you have any suggestions or ideas for Thor and Moxie please let me know.

Tag list:

@foxyjwls007 @andahugaroundtheneck @also-fangirlinsweden @pagina16ps @princesssterek @valsworldofcreativity @dumblani @inkedaztec @loving-life-my-way @animegirlgeeky @shinycupcakebaker @eralen @sophham @gh0stgurl @wonderlandfandomkingdom @killcomet @abschaffer2 @sass-masterkittenmama

[animentality]

[cludiaa]

Pls not me realising that I forgot to post this here 💀

Anyway may I offer you some Aelin and Rowan

[acourtofmarvels]

Patience - Cassian

No OC this time, just your average Cassian x Reader (I used she/her pronouns but please use any you would like to.)

Summary: Y/N has been apart of the IC for 100 years after they saved her from a horrible incident that left her broken and traumatized. Cassian knew she was his mate from the second he saw her. Though he never could tell her, not after everything she endured.  They put her back together. She loved them and they loved her. Her family. Though, in the recent couple years she developed feelings a little stronger toward the male who she would soon find out to be her mate. 

Warnings: hints of abuse and assault. fluff

Word count: 3369

Cassian

"Why haven't you told her?" Rhysand asked me. I looked at him like he was crazy. He must be. Thinking I could ever tell her.

"How could I put that on her? After all she's been through. She's open to us now. She's stronger, braver. She's finally starting to learn to cope with her trauma. I don't want to scare her with something so... intimate."

I saved her. I have kept her safe. I helped her, trained her. Held her when she needed it, gave her space when she needed it. Those 50 years when Rhys was under the mountain she never left the House of Wind once. She didn't feel safe without her High Lord here. Even though Az and I were always with her.

"Cassian..." Rhys started.

"You kept it from Feyre, why? Cause you wanted to keep her safe, you didn't want to scare her. You wanted her to be ready for it. Thats exactly what I'm doing." He's being so hypocritical. How could he think I could just spring this on her?

"You've know for 100 years-"

"I knew the moment I saw her. She was covered in her own blood and vomit, bruised, broken and bare. You didn't see her, Rhys. You didn't feel-" I felt sick to my stomach just thinking about it. I was the one who covered her, brought her to Valaris to be healed and saved."What those monsters did to her..."

"They're dead now. They'll never hurt her again." Yeah. I killed them all. Made them suffer. Had them begging and pleading for their lives.

"She's still healing. I'd wait another 100 years if had to." 

Her POV

"We can go back if you want," Mor said quietly to me. We walked down the cobblestone sidewalk through the markets in the town square. Her arm linked in mine, her way of letting me know she wasn't leaving my side.

"No, I feel... good. It's a beautiful day. Everything feels like it's fitting into place. I've noticed these past few months that I finally feel like my old self again. But.. better."

It felt so good getting out of the house. Walking down the streets of my home. Home. I'd been here for a century. I've found my family here. People who love me, scars and all. And I love them. They're my rock. I wish I could say that I put myself back together after being broke for so long but it was them. They hold me together.

"Have you gotten all your gifts yet?" It was solstice this week. Everyone's favorite time of year.

"I have." I smiled at her. "And I'm not telling you what I got you." I knew by the tone in her question that's exactly what would lead next.

"Come on! Did you get it when we were together? I always take you shopping. How could you have possibly gotten my gift?"

"Cassian took me yesterday." I didn't like going out by myself. Too much anxiety. Mor or Feyre always go shopping with me in the markets. The boys take me other places, exploring Prythian if I please.

"Cassian never goes shopping with me! Gods, how did you convince him to do that?"

"I just asked him and he said yes." I shrugged. Cassian has always been sweet. He never tells me no. I feel guilty about it sometimes. I don't want to bother him.

"You have him wrapped around your finger, I swear." Mor groaned and I laughed.

"I do not." My face felt warm as a blush crept up upon my cheeks. Me blushing for a male? That hasn't happened since before... "Cassian just worries about me."

"Yeah worries a little too much." She rolled her eyes playfully. "You're staying at the town house with all of us this week right?" Rhys and Feyre mentioned they wanted everyone there this week. It was kind of tradition but this was the first solstice since the war and it just felt a little extra special.

"Of course. And I will also be drinking my weight in wine."

"Oh gods, a drunk you is never good." Mor and I both laughed loudly. I didn't drink much. Only with them. And usually on special occasions.

***

"Leave! You'll see us when we are ready!" Feyre yelled through the door. Rhysand wanted to see which dress she picked. He was being very persistent. It was so cute.

"Just a peak, my love," he said. I could practically hear the smile in his voice. I felt a weird pang in my chest. That was weird.

There was some more playful arguing between them before Feyre finally came back over to the vanity where I was sitting as Mor was doing my hair and makeup.

"He's acting like a child and I just took away his toy," Feyre mumbled, "Illyrian baby."

Mor was the first one of us who was ready. She was wearing a long black silk dress with her signature red lips. Feyre was wearing a dark blue sparkly dress. It took me a while to pick which dress to wear. Feyre insisted on the maroon one, while Mor wanted me to wear the emerald green. I am bad at making decisions so I let Elain pick and she favored the maroon one more like her sister. 

"Mother above we look hot," Mor whistled as the three of us stood in front of the giant mirror in Feyre and Rhys room. 

The door squeaked as it opened, Elain slipping through. "Stop being annoying, you swear you've never seen her dolled up before." She mumbled to whom I could only assume was Rhysand. She closed it behind her, pressing her back to it. Elain was in a pale pink dress. She favored the lighter colors. "The boys are getting rowdy and insist we go down to eat dinner."

"They're children, I swear." Feyre rolled her eyes but she was smiling, as was I. Feyre followed Elain out the door. I briefly heard Rhys say some curse words at the sight of his mate before Feyre shut the door behind her. 

Mor reached for the handle of the door but paused when she noticed I was hesitant to follow her. I could tell she was immediately worried for me. "What's wrong?" Was I really that transparent? 

I couldn't lie to her. She can always tell when I'm lying or hiding something. "I am nervous." I admitted, my hands gripped the fabric of my dress nervously. 

"Why? Has something happened?" I think I was the closet with Mor. She was there since the beginning. For the first few months after the incident I was to afraid to be around males. Mor never left my side. She didn't even know me yet she cared so much. 

"Nothing has happened. Just, something feels different." I could feel the aching in my chest. I had noticed it every time I was around Rhys and Feyre, I didn't understand. 

"A good different or a bad different?" She took ahold of my hand, a comforting gesture she did to know that she was there for me and she wasn't leaving. 

"I'm not sure. I think what I'm feeling is good but it hurts sometimes." She gave my hand a small squeeze. 

"Do you want to leave? I can winnow us out right now. No questions asked. You say the words and we're gone." I smiled at her. 

"No I don't want to leave. I just... I had that on my chest." I took a deep breath. She continued to rub her hand over mine. She always held my hand when I was anxious or feeling emotional. It was comforting, to know she was always by my side when I needed her. 

The door burst open, in came an angry looking Amren. Her hand was gripping the doorknob so hard I thought she might pull it off. "If you don't get downstairs in the next two seconds I'm killing them all." She glanced down at Mor holding my hand and Amren's face actually softened. It wasn't often I saw any other sign of emotion on her face that wasn't anger or annoyance. "What's going on? Are you alright, Y/N?"

I let out a small laugh. I love that they all worry for me. But it does get annoying the amount of times a day I hear Are you okay?  "I'm quite alright, thank you. Let's eat, I'm starving." 

Amren went first, Mor following and myself close behind. The biggest smile formed on my face the second I heard the low, loud, voices of the rest of my family downstairs. I don't even know what they were saying but Cassian's voice stood out to me. My heart sped up and I ignored it like I always did. It was a weird feeling I didn't understand. It always happened around him or even to the thought of him. 

"The night has barely begun and you're already giving me a headache," Amren grumbled as she hopped off the last step. The room grew quiet as Mor and I came into view. My eyes locked onto Cassian's first. There went that feeling again. He pushed his chair back, standing up straight. I noticed Rhysand and Azriel were standing up to. 

"Now don't stop the party on our account," Mor said. 

Rhysand was the first to speak out of the males. "You both look marvelous." He then looked at down at his mate who was sitting in the chair beside him. He must have said something to her for only her to hear because a slight blush freckled upon her cheeks. 

Azriel approached both of us, complimenting us. He hugged Mor, then looked at me for permission. I smiled at him and opened my arms to give him a hug. "Thank you, Az." The males were always hesitant to show any type of affection toward me. I understood why and I was grateful for it. 

As Azriel walked back over to where he was sitting previously at the dinner my eyes locked once more on the Illyrian general. 

"Y/N you look-" Cassian choked on his words. "I mean y-you both look, um, wow." He motioned to Mor and I. I'd never seen him so nervous. 

"Settle down Cass, you might just woo them away." Rhys said making Az laugh. Cassian's face turned red as he sat back down in his seat. Feyre swatted his arm and scolded him silently. 

The night continued on as we ate and drank. I sat at the end of the table with Elain on my right and Mor on my left. The smile on my face only grew bigger as the night went on. 

I kept the smile on my face as I glanced at Rhys and Feyre, who were talking quietly to each other, stealing kisses back and forth. I wanted that. That love that they share. That was the first time I was admitting it. I think I just realized why I felt that pang in my chest every time I looked at them together. That connection was what everyone craved. That unrelentless love. I didn't even know I was ready for that but I now realize that I do. 

I looked away from them. I couldn't watch anymore. I needed to focus on something else before they noticed my change in demeanor. 

I couldn't help but look at Cassian. He could always calm me down in the worst of times. It was like he knew I was watching him cause the second he looked at me every thing changed. It felt like the world stopped and something shifted. It started in my chest, a glowing warmth that began to sooth my aching heart, like a bandage to a wound. The warmth spread outwards, moving to my limbs and beyond my body, forming a bridge between us. 

The second that connection snapped I stood up abruptly, the chair beneath me almost falling back I pushed it back so quickly. The tears were already falling down my face. "You-" I couldn't even form a sentence. I had to cover my mouth with my hand to prevent myself from sobbing then and there. Cassian was standing too, worry all over his face. But he knew. I knew he knew. 

I couldn't breath. I knew people were calling my name. I knew Mor was by my side but everything felt numb. I needed to get out of here. 

I didn't look out as I ran out of the townhouse. Into the cold air, through the falling snow. He's my mate. Cassian is my mate.

"Gods, Y/N, you're gonna catch a cold out here." His voice alone soothed me. He appeared in front of me, wrapping a cloak around my shoulders to keep me warm. 

"How long?" I looked up at him, his face blurry through my tears. 

"Let's go back inside, I don't want you to get sick out here," he avoided the question, which only made me angry. 

"How long have you known, Cassian?" I raised my voice. I wiped my tears away so I could see him better. The sun was beginning to set but the faelights outside were shining on his face. 

"I knew the moment I saw you. It snapped immediately." He said quietly. He looked down at his feet, not daring to look at me. 

"Why didn't you tell me?" My voice was barely above a whisper. I was trying to hold it together now but my voice was failing me. 

"How could I?" Cassian looked up and it was then that I noticed the tears in his eyes also. "After what they did to you. After everything you've been through... I couldn't put that burden on you."

"A burden? You feel being my mate is a burden?" 

"No, never." He reached his hands out like he wanted to hold me, but he lowered them and took a step away from me. "I didn't want to scare you. I wanted the bond to click into place for you. I wanted you to be ready. But I will never force anything upon you. If you want to reject it, I will be okay." It was hard for him to say that. I know he didn't mean to but I could feel him send his sadness through the bond. 

I stepped directly up to him, he straighten up but didn't move away this time. He was watching me nervously. I wanted him to hold me. I needed him to make the first move. I don't want him to be scared either. 

Warmth spread through my body as he gently placed his hand on the side of my face. I let out a small cry as I placed my hand on top of his, wanting him closer. I looked up at him. "You do not scare me, Cassian. There is no one in this world that makes me feel safer than when I'm with you. And I am honored to be your mate." 

Cassian let out a cry of relief as he pulled me into his embrace. We both stood there in the snow, holding each other so tightly, crying with one another. After a few minutes he pulled away first, both his hands cupping the sides of my face now. His thumbs wiping away the few tears on my cheeks. "The honor is mine. And I will give you the everlasting love you deserve, for eternity."

"As will I," I reached up and wiped his tears also. "I will need your patience. I would like to go slow." 

Cassian's eyes went wide and he took a step back from me. "Of course." 

I laughed a little and grabbed his hand pulling him back to me. "This is just fine." He smiled and wrapped his arms around my waist. "And I would like you to kiss me." A blush formed on my cheeks as I said that. I hadn't kissed a male in over a century. 

"You sure?" He asked. I nodded slowly, he leaned in closer and when he was just mere inches away from my face I closed my eyes. Finally his lips found mine in an achingly slow, gentle kiss. He was holding me so softly, as if afraid he would hurt me. "You're it for me. I'm never letting you go." I leaned into his touch, wanting to be as close to him as possible. 

"Should we go back inside with the others?" I asked, nuzzling my face into his chest. 

"Yeah, we should." He replied but neither of us made an effort to move. "They're watching us from the window." 

I whipped my head around to look at the house behind me, multiple heads jumped away from the window. I laughed and shook my head. "They're always so nosey."

"Let's go. It's getting cold." Cassian and I held hands as we walked back inside. He took my cloak off for me and hung it up. Everyone was sitting at the table acting totally normal. 

I noticed Mor has taken my seat, pretending to be in a serious conversation with Elain. Rhys was trying to hide his smile behind his drink. Cassian pulled out the empty seat from beside him, allowing me to sit down before he took his seat. My face was red as a tomato but Cassian had a smug grin on his. They were all pretending like nothing happened, that this was all totally normal. 

"Did you guys know it started snowing outside again?" I spoke up finally, a smirk on my face.

 "What?" "No way." "I had no idea." They all said as a chorus. Then we all started laughing. Thank the mother for that. 

Cassian grabbed the edge of my seat and pulled me closer to him, wrapping an arm around the back of my chair. I grabbed his other hand and held it in my lap with both of mine. I need the connection.

"So did you all know?" I had to ask. I wasn't mad. I found it funny actually. 

"Know what?" Rhys asked, playing dumb. Then a devilish grin formed on his face. 

"I told Rhys the moment I knew, Az suspected the same day." Cassian told me. 

"I figured it out easily," Amren said, her arms crossed over her chest and a bored look on her face. "He stares at you constantly."

 "I do not!" Cassian said loudly and everyone laughed again.

"She does the same, don't worry." Mor smirked at me and my eyes went wide. 

"I do?!" I didn't even realize. My face was so red right now. 

"Oh, all the time," Feyre spoke up. Cassian squeezed my hand, begging me to look up at him. When I did his face was so full of happiness, my heart felt like it was melting. 

He leaned down and whispered in my ear, "Do I have permission to kiss your cheek?" I giggled, literally giggled. Who am I? Where did this side of me come from?

"You have my permission and may do so anytime you want," I whispered back. He kissed my cheek with glee. I was so happy. I loved the affection he was giving me. He was respecting my boundaries and accepting that I wanted to go slow. But I now understood that with me wanting to accept the bond he was gonna take any affection he could get from me. I wanted to give him everything but I need time. 

"I think we can all agree, Cass and Y/N, we are very happy for you both." Rhysand raised his glass to us. Everyone copied, raising their glasses as well. 

Acotar Masterlist

[kikixreverie]

It's called: freefall

Bucky x Female reader

Summary - Things get heated between you and your closest friend Bucky, when you're made to play a married couple on an important mission. Neither of you can help yourselves when you end up stuck in a hotel room together, with sexual tension you could cut with a knife.

Word count - 10k

Warnings - (18+) smut, fingering, p in v, friends to lovers, fake marriage, gross misogynistic man (not Bucko), borderline sexual harassment (not too intense, just gross words, and also not Bucky ofc), fluff, kinda angst, more misogyny.

A/N - Hi, this took me weeks to edit for some reason, sorry, and apologies if it's too long/wordy, i got carried away again. I'm not a big fan of the first half ngl, maybe that's because it's bad, or maybe it's because I've read it about a hundred times. The smut is good though, and that's what really matters.

________________________

"It's just a quick job, I promise. It'll be easy."

Steve gave you a smile of encouragement, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed in front of him, before politely averting his gaze to the floor when you lifted your dress slightly to slide your usual dagger into the holster on your thigh.

"Then what's with the getup?" You asked, lifting your head to catch sight of yourself in the mirror opposite you, looking at the dress you had been made to wear.

It was a pretty dress, beautiful actually, the colour beautiful against your skin-tone, perfectly fitted in all the right places, and it flowed down to the floor, a slit travelling up the length of your left leg, ending at your upper thigh.

You felt confident in it, and it was certainly a boost to your ego when Natasha wolf-whistled at the sight of you and Steve turned an impressive shade of red, but it wasn't something you were used to, having spent the past few years of your life dodging and refusing Tony's party invites, sticking to the comfiest clothes you owned when walking about the compound. It was a beautiful dress, but you couldn't help but feel like an imposter wearing it.

Natasha strode over to you and slightly adjusted the placement of your knife, ensuring it wasn't visible through the dress. "Daniel Kozlov. He's been on Shield's hit list for years now, fucker keeps catching and killing our agents on the inside."

You scoffed amusedly and shook your head, "What, so you send me in to get killed too?"

"Don't underestimate yourself, I've seen you take down four armed men with a screwdriver; you'll be fine, plus, you'll have Bucky and he knows how to stay undetected." Steve reassured you and you smiled at him, nodding to his words.

You heard footsteps behind you only moments before another voice spoke up, and you turned to the door, your breath catching in your throat as you did.

"That I do," Bucky nodded to Steve as he entered the room, eyes focused on his hands, adjusting his cuff links with a furrowed brow, before he finally tilted his gaze up, meeting your wide eyes with his own.

You barely noticed him looking you up and down, as you were too busy doing the exact same thing to him, no doubt probably being incredibly obvious as you stared with your lips parted. He looked like pure fucking sin.

Unadulterated and unfiltered sin.

His suit was all black and his pale, blue eyes contrasted against the colour, somehow making them stand out even more than usual. His already incredibly muscular arms and legs were accentuated, the expensive fabric tight against his skin, without it looking strange and uncomfortable, it only drew your attention to how broad his shoulders were compared to his narrow waist, or how thick his thighs looked in the black dress pants.

Multiple silver rings graced his fingers, matching with the silver, designer watch on his left wrist and you did a double-take when you noticed that his watch was wrapped around skin, not vibranium.

"Your arm." You said, sounding more like a statement than a question and Bucky forced himself to tear his gaze from your exposed thigh and tried to hide his pink dusted cheeks and breathless intake of air as his eyes followed yours to his metal arm, now concealed by what looked to be skin.

"Yeah." His voice came out as a sigh. He didn't know why, most amputees like him he was sure would be over the moon with the impressive technology, but it just made him uncomfortable, seeing his arm how he did 70 years ago. I felt inherently wrong. "Tony."

You nodded, looking away from his hand. A part of you was annoyed Tony had given it to him, knowing that it took Bucky years to accept that part of himself, and this seemed like it would be a setback in that department, though you still understood why it was necessary, Bucky was the best for the job, and chances are a criminal as 'highbrow' as Kozlov, would recognise the arm.

You wanted to change the subject, and you could tell Bucky did too, so you huffed a laugh and met his eyes, jokingly poking his chest with your finger, "You look like a mobster."

He nodded and chuckled, "Thanks, I guess. You look like a mobster's wife."

"Wife huh? Is that what we're doing?" You ask, turning your head to look down at Nat questioningly as she finished with your dress.

"Did they not tell you?" Bucky asked and you shook your head.

"I missed the briefing but Steve here thought he'd sign me up anyway." You gave the blonde a jokey, reprimanding look and he sighed, picking up two folders from the table and handing them to you.

"Blue one is about Kozlov, and the black is about who you and Bucky are going to be playing."

You take the folders from Steve, handing the blue one to Natasha as you open the black one, "James and Lucille Walter. Hey, how come he gets to keep his name and I get Lucille?"

"That's just a coincidence and I'm sure Bucky isn't too happy about it either. You're pretending to be a real couple, James Walter is one of Kozlov's newest buyers, he doesn't know him very well though, that's why you two shouldn't be caught out by anyone."

Nodding to Steve's words, you quickly skim over the rest of the folder, memorising as much as you can, before swapping with Nat and reading the other one, "And where are the real James and Lucille Walter?"

"Dead."

You stop your reading and turn to Natasha at the sound of her voice, giving her a look when she tried to hide her smirk.

"Ah, yes. Courtesy of Natasha Romanoff herself, Mr and Mrs Walter are in fact, dead" Steve spoke dramatically, causing you to scoff and wink at the redhead beside you.

"We should leave now. I'll explain further in the car and give you a rundown of the plan. Should be an easy job." Bucky takes the folders from you and tucks them under his arm, signalling for you to walk out the door and you give Steve and Natasha a smirk before you leave.

"Wish me luck guys."

_______________________________________

You were picked up from the compound by one of Stark's trusted drivers and Bucky described the plan in detail to you on the way there, but as you arrived closer and closer to your destination, you felt the nerves come on.

Usually, you were behind a computer screen on missions, hacking security cameras and breaking into encrypted files, you had no doubt of your fighting skills, you've been training almost your whole life, and the few missions you've done where you've had to fight were smooth sailing, but you had never done undercover before.

You started nibbling on your lower lip as soon as the car pulled up, doubting yourself again despite the amount of times Natasha has given you a whole speech about why you had no reason to ever do that.

The door on Bucky's side opened and when he offered you his arm to help you out of the car, meeting your eyes and giving you a gentle smile, you felt the nerves calm slightly.

You and Bucky were close in a way that no one had expected, considering he had the tendency to keep himself away from people and stay quiet when he was forced to socialise. You were slow-paced and gentle with him, a huge contrast to the way Sam would constantly be on Bucky about his lack of social skills, or Tony dragging him to parties he had no interest in. Sam always has the best intentions, but sometimes can be a little too enthusiastic for Bucky, and Tony, well sometimes Tony's just a dick with full knowledge of the fact that he's being one, and not a single care in the world about it.

You and Bucky both had an understanding, you had confided in him about your fears, your anxiety, and he had managed to do the same.

You just couldn't help but develop a teeny tiny crush on him over the past few months.

"Don't work yourself up, stay in character, stay alert, and remember the plan."

Nodding to him, you took a deep breath and put yourself into character, reminding yourself of yours and Bucky's new names, keeping your head up as you entered the party, an expensive diamond wrapped around your left ring finger with a similar pattern to the silver band Bucky had on his.

The hall was beautiful, gold detailing adorned the large doors and walls, reaching up to the ceiling to create beautiful patterns against the pristine white of the building. The party-goers were even more beautiful, hundreds of gowns and suits worth more than your life, probably bought and worn for a single night, before they're discarded and forgotten in the back of their walk-in closets.

You felt like you didn't fit in at all, but you watched as party guests eyed the two of you, and they seemed to be approving.

It didn't take you and Bucky long to get situated, stood in the corner of the extravagant hall with a glass of champagne now in your hand as you surveyed the exits and bodyguards, and Bucky looked for the target.

The mission was just a small lead in a huge investigation. You and Bucky were just here to buy something from Kozlov and then get out.

"Got him, 4 o-clock. He's surrounded but he should be expecting us so it shouldn't be an issue." Bucky had leant down to whisper in your ear, his breath tickling against your neck and causing a shiver to rake over your shoulders.

Fuck, he smelled like sin too.

It made you want to take a deeper breath, made you want to pull him even closer, close enough to close that small gap between your lips and kiss him till you run out of breath, and as much as that would be inconspicuous and normal for James and Lucille Walter, it would be completely inappropriate for Bucky and Y/n.

"We shouldn't go over yet. Let's just mingle a bit, get more of a feel of this place and blend into the background as much as we can." You add, and Bucky nods, surveying the room again before meeting your eyes.

"Good idea, but when we do go over, don't make eye contact with him and don't say anything," said Bucky. You couldn't help but roll your eyes, giving him a slightly annoyed, but understanding smile, and he smiled back apologetically, "I know, it's stupid, but that's what these guys are like. If he so much as thinks that you're either, on the table or threatening his masculinity, we're in trouble. Okay?"

You understood what Bucky was saying, men like Kozlov, they see women as property, or in some cases, currency. It's best to stay off their radar as best you can, which includes not threatening his masculinity by daring to look him in the eyes.

Women were to keep their heads down.

Which was bullshit.

"Okay."

He gives you a final nod and you think he's finally about to pull away and have mercy on your heart, but before he does, he pauses and presses his soft, warm lips to your cheek in a gentle kiss.

Air gets caught in your throat as it happens, but you try not to make an audible noise, quickly pulling yourself together and reminding yourself that you and Bucky are pretending to be a couple and he's just trying to sell it better. It makes sense.

It's just pretend.

You spend the whole evening with your hand wrapped around Bucky's bicep, neither of you breaking apart for anything as random people come up to you and try to start conversations. Usually, one of you will take one for the team and has to stand there talking about money and beach houses for five minutes, plus the occasional question about kids, which seemed to make Bucky blush every time, as the other keeps an eye on Kozlov.

"So how long have you two been married?" A seemingly kind lady asks, her red dress matching her lips as they stretch into an awkward smile.

"A year in June," You respond, well-rehearsed at this point as you smile up at your pretend husband, "Can't believe how quickly it's going."

Bucky is quick thinking with the act, and he smiles down at you, his arm wrapping gently around your waist and squeezing you to his side. Your heart probably stopped beating for a moment, and you wondered how he got so good at this, before brushing the thought away and looking back to the woman in the red dress, smiling warmly at her too.

"Ah, bet you two are still in the honeymoon phase. You look completely smitten with each other, it's adorable." She scrunched her nose up on the word 'adorable', her gaze flicking between the two of you before she glanced at her own husband, standing a few feet away as he laughed with a larger group of men, a big glass of whiskey in his hand. She sighed.

You tried to keep your face neutral, smiling and nodding along, but something about what she had said had caught in your chest, and you wished you could see just for a moment from someone else's eyes, just how 'smitten' you both look.

You felt bad for the woman, who stood in the middle of the huge ballroom completely alone and abandoned by her husband, but there wasn't anything you could do for her, and Bucky was subtly hinting to you that you were to go speak with Kozlov soon, so you kissed her cheek and bid her goodbye.

You spared Bucky a quick glance and he was focused on Kozlov, his face stoic as he glanced in his direction discreetly, scanning the exits too, checking for close-by security cameras and windows again, just in case.

"I think it's time, doll." He murmured.

You quickly lift your head to meet his eyes, the pet-name he usually only used when you were tipsy and would brush it off casually, slipping off his tongue, though it had the same effect sober or not, you blushed and nodded.

He smiled at you, almost looking fond, though you were pretty sure he was just offering you a break from the stoic, mission orientated Bucky, before he took a deep breath and reached for your hand on his bicep to hold it with his own, gently squeezing before guiding you towards the target.

As you walked Kozlov's way, who was surrounded by burly, most definitely armed bodyguards, you noticed the women surrounding him too, some with their husbands and all of them looking beyond uncomfortable, staring out at the party with bored, or even nervous expressions.

"James Walter," Bucky nodded to one of the bodyguards, who had stopped you both from passing, and the bodyguard shared a look with another, before nodding and letting you walk on.

Daniel Kozlov was sat comfortably in a velvet armchair as he swirled a glass of whiskey in his hand, seemingly stuck in a boring conversation as he stared at the wall before him, completely uninterested in what the man talking to him had to say.

"Mr Kozlov, I'm James Walter, It's a pleasure to finally meet you in person."

Kozlov perked up at the sound of a new voice and a wide, Cheshire cat grin formed on his lips as he regarded you and Bucky, though you kept your eyes to the floor, or seemingly 'admiring' the expensive decorations as the men spoke.

"Ah, my new friend! I was hoping you'd show up, had a few men flake out on me recently," The man spoke dramatically, his thick European accent prevalent and images of his file flashed in your head, remembering that Shield had been taking down his buyers one by one, either arresting them on other charges or putting a bullet between their eyes as Natasha had done with the real Mr and Mrs Walter.

They weren't particularly very nice people, so you didn't hold much guilt for their deaths, or stealing their identity after the fact.

"Wouldn't miss it for the world, sir. Heard you've got something I have my interests set on." Bucky's voice was smooth and charismatic, matching Kozlov's energy as best he could, and you couldn't lie, it made your blood run warmer, heat spreading to certain parts of your body you were ashamed to admit were reacting to the confidence he exuded tonight.

"Hm... I suppose I do. Do you always allow your wife to be a part of your deals?" Your looked up slightly at his mention of you, and Kozlov smirked wickedly at the expression on your face, "Women can be god-awful gossips sometimes."

This fucking guy-

Bucky squeezed your hand tightly, forcing the words from his tongue, "I assure you, sir. She is nothing to worry about."

He was just as pissed as you were.

"I don't know, she doesn't really seem like the quiet type, I reckon she's a loud-mouth once she's on her back, although I'm sure having her on her knees will shut her up nice and quiet." He chuckled darkly and Bucky's hand was holding yours so tight, his jaw clenching and unclenching, measured breaths exhaled through his nose, he still managed to keep his face blank though, as did you, quietly seething as you put on the frightened baby deer look that men seemed to love, staring down at the floor.

He needed to think you were in the same position as the other poor, frightened women here, that he'd get bored with you all the same.

You swallowed your tongue though, wanting nothing more than to speak up and put the bastard in his place, right before beating the absolute shit out of him, though you knew that would come in due time, for now all you could do was finish this fucking mission.

"She won't be a problem."

Kozlov laughed, knowing he was getting under James' skin. He stood from the armchair and nodded towards Bucky, the smile sinking, trying to look intimidating, despite the fact that he was practically less than half the size of Bucky, "Make your payment."

Bucky pulled a phone from his pocket, sending a single word in a text and waiting for the confirmation only seconds later, before tucking it away again, "Payment made."

Daniel looked over at a man sat in the corner with a laptop and when he nodded, he turned back to look at Bucky, his hand sneaking into his own pocket and pulling out a hard drive, handing it to Bucky before taking a step back and looking you up and down.

"What's your name, sweetheart?"

You swallowed your irritation, narrowly avoiding the urge to roll your eyes at the way he was eyeing you like a piece of meat, Bucky opened his mouth to speak but was quickly cut off by a glare.

"I asked the wife, not you. Name?" He spoke through gritted teeth, obviously quick to anger, and you fought back the urge to fucking bitch slap him, take the dagger from your thigh and press it to his neck, but you were sticking to the deer in headlights act.

"Lucille."

A smirk overtook his face, a healed scar on his cheek stretching as he did so, "Pretty name for a pretty thing."

At this point, Bucky was squeezing your hand so hard again, your fingers were starting to go numb, the rings he was wearing digging uncomfortably into your skin, but you didn't pull away, instead, you returned the tight grip to try to reassure him.

Taking a step closer to you, Daniel Kozlov lifted his hand to your cheek, making you flinch slightly and you clenched your jaw when the back of his hand caressed your cheek, his skin ice-cold against yours.

"I happen to collect pretty things."

Bucky felt sick to his stomach, knowing that he couldn't do anything besides stand there and watch, stepping out of line in any way would end in a fight, and he knew he couldn't risk lives, or the mission.

A part of you was expecting him to backhand you, but he never did Instead, he touched your cheek for a while longer, glancing over at Bucky with a smile before he took a step away from you and laughed at the murderous look Bucky was trying to hide, he knew that Bucky was in a position where there wasn't much he could do to stop him, and he openly mocked him for it, "I could take her off your hands for the night for you, teach her some manners. Maybe she'll learn to answer her superiors quickly, when they ask her a question."

"Not necessary." Bucky's voice was scarily even, but his jaw was aching from how hard he was grinding his teeth together and he started pulling you closer to him, shooting Kozlov a dangerous glare, "I think it's time we leave."

"Of course, of course. No doubt you need to get her to bed."

Bucky ignored his words and turned, pushing his way past the bodyguards and pulling you along by your hand, making you stumble in your heels.

"James." You called out as you tried to catch up with him. His grip on your hand was starting to hurt again but he kept walking with intent, pulling you out of the grand doors at the entrance to the hall and towards the expensive car you had arrived in.

He handed the driver a wad of cash and told him to leave, giving him a silent glare which obviously meant 'fuck off' when the guy hesitated.

As Bucky pulled open the passenger seat door and helped you into the car, you glared at him, though when he ducked his head into the car and leant over you to put your seatbelt on for you, the intensity behind the glare faded and you were left just staring wide eyed at him, and instead of yelling at him and telling him that you were perfectly capable of doing your own seatbelt, you were lost for words with how close his body was to yours, his breath fanning against your bare shoulder.

You could only breathe when he pulled away and slammed the door shut, rounding the car to get into the driver's seat, not sparing you another glance as he turned on the engine and put the car into gear, speeding off into the city.

his frustration and anger filled the space with tension.

"Bucky, you need to calm down," You tried but he continued to ignore you, one hand on the gear stick and the other gripping the steering wheel so tight that his knuckles turned white. You sighed, his frustration and anger filled the space with tension, and you concluded that he was a grown man who could calm himself down.

You dropped your head against the seat as you focused on the view outside your window, the lights of the city burning bright against the night sky.

You glanced at the side-view mirror, and rolled your eyes when you realised it was the same car that was behind you when you left the party, "We're being followed."

Bucky's hearing was obviously working. When he heard what you said, his eyes lifted to the rear-view mirror and he sighed heavily, "Fuck."

"Where are we gonna go? None of the safehouses are fancy enough for Mr and Mrs Walter."

"We'll have to go to a hotel, they shouldn't give us any trouble unless we seem suspicious. There's no way Kozlov would have us killed immediately after a sale, too risky," You nod at his words, knowing that Bucky was an expert at things like this due to his past with Hydra, he knew how men like Kozlov worked, how their brains ticked, and you trusted him completely. "Okay, I know where to go." He said as you kept an eye on the car, taking note of the plate number and trying to get a view of the person driving it, "Text Nat with the burner in my pocket, tell her we'll be at The Pierre, tell her to bring backup just in case but keep them minimally armed, it's just a precaution."

You sigh again, looking away from the car behind you and back to Bucky, "Which pocket?"

"Inside pocket, left side."

You nibbled on your lower lip as you reached over to him, and he tilted his body to you slightly in assistance. Bucky gulped, and you blushed as your hands brushed against his shirt when you reached into his suit jacket, searching for the pocket.

His body was incredibly warm and it only made you want to draw out the situation even longer as Bucky fought to keep his concentration on the road and the car behind, but eventually, your fingers brushed against the phone and you hesitantly pulled it out and sat back in your seat, a long exhale coming from him as you did so and he readjusted his grip on the steering wheel, shooting you a quick glance, his gaze falling to how exposed your thigh had become with the movement, though he tore his eyes away quickly.

You slipped the phone back into Bucky's pocket once you had received Natasha's quick response, and Bucky pulled up to the hotel. You watched in quiet amusement as the man following parked not-so-discreetly, a bit further down the street.

"Remember who your playing." Bucky shot you a final glance as he turned off the ignition and got out of the car, straightening out his suit jacket as he walked to the passenger side and pulled open the door, offering his arm to you and helping you out of the car.

You hated how real it all felt, him doting on you when you were trying desperately hard to convince yourself it was an act, but you still wrapped both your hands around his arm, draping yourself against his side as you walked towards the entrance, telling yourself that you did it only for the upkeep of the ruse.

The tension between you was undeniable as Bucky looked down at you, his expression serious, but not stern, only intense.

"James? Are we going in?" You asked, using his fake yet real name and it seemed to wake him from his daze, nodding as he reminded himself of his surroundings and the man now wandering closer to them, his phone to his ear, though he didn't speak into it.

"Course, doll. Just admiring my wife's beauty in the city lights."

Your mouth fell open slightly at his words but he didn't give you much time to react before he was walking you into the hotel, and you were thankful that he wasn't dragging you this time.

Bucky didn't waste any time, quickly moving to one of the people running the front desk and glaring down at him.

"Name?"

"James Walter," He spoke and the man nodded, typing something out on his computer before handing Bucky a black key-card, giving him a fearful smile.

Stepping away from the front desk, Bucky moved to your left as he discreetly put his hand into his pocket and slipped the burner phone into your hand, and you switched the phone into your right hand once you realised his plan, tossing the phone into the garbage bag on the back of a janitors cart before walking into the elevator.

You sighed heavily as you both finally entered the hotel room, trudging to the bed in the middle of the giant room and collapsing on it as Bucky started scoping out the room, quickly checking the bathroom and shutting all the curtains.

"We're going to have to stay here all night, aren't we? That guy isn't gonna go anywhere." You sighed, closing your eyes as you sunk into the mattress.

"One bed." Bucky said, and you peaked your eyes open one at a time, moving your gaze to the man now slouched in the armchair tucked into the corner of the large room, still looking beyond annoyed.

"Huh?"

His jaw ticked in annoyance as his head fell back against the chair, "There's only one bed."

Oh.

"Oh," You sat up on the bed, looking around the room awkwardly.

You didn't really want to think about what that could mean, it either formed butterflies in your stomach, or disappointment.

He didn't have to act so upset about it.

"Is it that bad?" You scoffed, half joking, half serious, and Bucky lifted his head, his eyes widening, lips parted.

"No, that's not what I-" He cut himself off, sighing and furrowing his eyebrows, looking guilty, "Sorry. I'm just so fucking annoyed."

You smiled and nodded, "I know, me too. We're one step closer to getting this guy though, Buck."

He nodded too, eyes closing again, his jaw unclenching, finding some kind of relief in your words.

"We don't have to share if you don't want, but I'm okay with it if you are. I trust you. Plus, we've fallen asleep on the couch together before, can't be that much different." You shrugged, acting nonchalant, although you felt extremely not, as you stood up, sick of the feeling of your knife's handle digging uncomfortably in your skin.

You pulled your skirt up to expose your other thigh, lifting your right foot to rest on the bed, while making sure not to flash Bucky in the process as you pull the dagger out, throwing it back on the bed, leaving the garter on for now.

His breath caught in his throat at the sight, watching as your dagger glided against the skin of your thigh as you removed it from yourself, tossing it onto the white bed sheets before dropping your foot back to the floor.

"No it's... I don't- uh." He trailed off, losing his train of thought, obviously distracted.

You looked at him, eyes dropping to follow the movement of his tongue wetting his lips, and you knew you'd never get the sight of him right now out of your mind. His legs were spread, sitting comfortably in the chair, one of his arms draped over the arm of the chair, while he rested his elbow with the other one, holding his head up with his thumb and index finger on the side of his tilted head.

He regarded you silently, his eyes dazed, and you wondered if it could possibly be because he was feeling the same exact way as you right now.

Bucky was struggling to think straight, scrunching his face up in frustration when he finally snapped out of his daze, the frustration completely different to what he was feeling before, now he just couldn't get the image of your thighs out of his mind, or the black thigh garter you still wore under your dress.

God, you drive him fucking crazy.

You chewed the inside of your cheek when he sighed again, "Buck, you need to chill out. I know Kozlov is a fucking asshole, but we expected that. We got the mission done with no big issues."

He stared up at the ceiling, feeling so guilty that he was looking at you that way, thinking about you in that way, especially after the reminder of Kozlov and how undoubtedly uncomfortable he must've made you feel.

"I know, I just hate feeling powerless. That prick was touching you and saying horrible shit and I just stood there-"

"Bucky."

He huffed a breath and opened his eyes, only to be met with the beautiful sight of you stood before him, only a few feet away, your dress clinging to all the right places and your eyes locked to his and he felt a familiar heat stirring up inside him again. He stared up at you as if you were a heaven-sent angel.

The tension in the room was so thick, and you both knew why, though neither of you had the guts to admit, nor say anything about it.

Your intentions were pure at first, and for some reason, on the way towards where he was sitting, you never thought about the very un-pure version of your actions until you were stood in front of him, barely thinking about it when you sunk to your knees before him, your hands resting just above his knees on his spread legs.

At first, you told yourself it was because you wanted to talk to him properly, make sure he was okay, and that included you being on his level physically, but now you realised it was mostly because you so desperately wanted to see him like this, his gaze heated, looking down at you between his thighs with parted lips.

It didn't matter that you were the one on your knees, you'd never felt more powerful.

His gaze was unwavering, the intense, lustful look in his eyes alone had you clenching your thighs together as you thought about your next move, and Bucky lifted one of his hands towards your face, brushing the back of his fingers down your cheek, just as Kozlov had done earlier, though this touch was completely different, and your eyes fluttered shut, a sigh escaping you as his fingers caressed your cheek, ridding the memory of Kozlov's cold skin against yours with his soft, warm touch, and you pulled your eyes open to meet his again, lifting your hand to take hold of his.

You looked down at the rings he was wearing, one on almost each finger, apparently it was a common style choice from James Walter, and it wasn't the first time tonight that you'd silently thanked the dead mobster for that fact.

They'd been catching your eye all night, and you lifted his knuckles to your lips, placing a kiss against the smooth metal of the first one on his index finger, and then the next one, and the next.

Bucky watched you kiss his rings, his eyes darkening with every touch of your soft lips to his knuckles, so entranced by you, slowly sinking further into the seat, melting with each touch.

He couldn't think of any repercussions right now, couldn't think of a single reason to stop you, all he could think about was what you were doing to him right now, and where these actions could lead you, and his pants were getting tighter by the second.

You met his eyes with your lips still on his knuckles, and you both immediately knew what this was, where this could be going, and that the thick tension between you, was sexual tension like no other.

Bucky's heart must've stopped when you opened his fist and slipped his index and middle finger past your lips, enveloping them in the hot, wetness of your mouth, your soft tongue circling over his digits, sucking on them, He couldn't help but groan, leaning his head back, though still keeping his half-lidded eyes on you.

"Fuck, doll. So fuckin' gorgeous."

You weren't thinking straight, you must not've been, because why the hell would you be doing this, why was it something you didn't even have to question, why did it feel so natural, and so fucking right.

The words that slipped past his lips were doing things to you, and the way that his fingers pressed down on your tongue slightly, but weren't nearly as heavy against it as something else you wanted on your tongue would be, you were a goner, and your underwear was already soaked.

You pulled his fingers from your mouth but kept hold of them as you crawled onto his lap, his arm immediately wrapped around your waist, holding you to him, his lips so close to yours you were sharing breath.

Slowly, you guided his fingers down, sliding them under the slit in your dress to bring them to your covered core, watching his facial expression intently, watching for any sign of discomfort.

There was none, and his breath caught in his throat when his fingers made contact, the heat of you radiating against his hand, he could already feel how wet you are.

"Fuck." He breathed, eyebrows furrowing, forehead resting on yours, "You sure about this sweetheart? You want me to touch you?"

You nodded immediately, biting your lower lip, pressing his hand against you harder, "Yes. Are you sure?"

He nodded back, "Never been more sure about anything in my fuckin' life."

You moaned when he finally started moving his fingers, circling your clit gently over your underwear, though with enough pressure to give some sort of relief, but it was when he pulled your panties aside, and dipped his fingers into your wetness, spreading your folds and gathering your slick, before pressing his fingers against your clit and rubbing you in tighter circles, that you were a mess in his lap.

"Bucky-" You whimpered, rolling your hips slightly, and he licked his lips again, nudging his nose against yours, wanting so desperately to kiss you, but also not wanting to miss a single expression you made, he wanted to watch you fall apart under his touch, again, and again, and again.

"You know something, sweetheart?" He asked, waiting for confirmation that you were paying attention to him before continuing.

You rolled your hips again, staring into his eyes, moaning out in pleasure, "What?"

"You drove me fucking crazy tonight, every time you touched me, every time you looked at me- God, whenever you said my name- I'd never heard you call me that before, my first name, fuck I don't ever want to stop hearin' you callin' me that."

His words made you dizzy, the confirmation that he'd felt the same as you all night, the confession that he loved it when you called him 'James' just as much as you loved calling him it, you were sinking deeper and deeper into this feeling, that this moment couldn't be more right, more necessary, like you'd both been needing this for months now.

By the time he had finished talking, he had slowed his touch to a complete stop, and dipped his fingers lower, pushing them inside you.

You gasped, he groaned, and when he curled them, finding that sweet spot inside you and pushing against it perfectly, you cried out, dropping your forehead to his shoulder and tucking your face in his neck.

He didn't let up with his gentle thrusting, and the insistent rubbing against that spongy spot inside of your cunt. He used his free hand to move your head from his shoulder, leaning himself forward slightly, holding you closer, and finally kissing you.

You whimpered and moaned against his lips, though returned the kiss passionately, both of your hands in his hair, your tongue gliding against his own.

This was unlike any experience you'd ever had, every touch dialled up to 100.

He used his thumb to rub your clit, still curling and rubbing his fingers against your walls, and when you started to clench down on him, he pulled back from the kiss.

"C'mon, kitten, cum on my fingers like a good girl." He purred, and your head tilted back, moaning as you came, your orgasm only spurred on quicker by his words.

"James-" You whimpered, his touch not letting up as he pleasured you through your orgasm, though when you were through most of it, you crashed your lips to his.

You kissed until you ran out of breath, doing exactly what you had wanted to do earlier, what you had wanted to do for months. Bucky gently eased his fingers out of you, and when you tucked your face in his neck again, catching your breath, you could tell he was sucking them clean, moaning at the taste of you.

It was quiet for a moment between you, only the gentle sound of your slightly laboured breath filling the space, Bucky held you close to him, his fingers gently tracing up and down your spine through the fabric of your dress, you gave a pleased hum and kissed his neck, just above his collar.

It didn't matter that you'd just barely come down from an orgasm, you needed more, you needed him.

"James." You whispered against his neck, just below his ear and he just about melted into the chair beneath you, humming to let you know he was listening, though you didn't say anything else, a part of you just wanted to say his name again, and to feel his pleased reaction to it.

His body was so warm under yours, but there were far too many layers of fabric between you and him and you desperately wanted to fix that, 'adjusting' yourself on his lap just so you could provide some friction between you, biting your lip and sighing into his ear when you felt how hard he was beneath you, he groaned and gripped your hips tightly.

"I wanna feel you inside me, James." Your voice was as sweet as sugar, breath warm against his skin, and your heated core was seated just above where his hard cock was pressing tightly against his pants, throbbing with every small movement you made.

"Fuck, sweetheart." He husked, no doubt sounding like a broken record, though he didn't care much about that, not when you were pressing yourself against him like that, slowly rocking in his lap, not when he could still faintly taste you in his mouth from where he had sucked his fingers clean, not with your mouth on his neck, whispering dirty things.

You kissed the hinge of his jaw, then ghosted your lips lower, pressing a kiss just below his ear, before making your way to the other side, leaving sweet kisses as you went.

You met his eye as you traced your hand up his black shirt, watching his expression as you slowly loosened his tie, and popped the top button open, and then the next, giving yourself better access to the skin there, kissing below his Adam's apple.

"C'mon, Buck. You wanna fuck me?" You asked, looking up at him through your lashes this time, teasing him with a smirk.

He bit his lip, holding your cheek in his palm, thumb swiping across your cheekbone, his eyes darting across your face, taking in every detail he could while he was so close to you.

So pretty.

"I do, of course I do, doll." He said back, his eyes following the movement of his thumb against soft skin. You could sense the 'but' coming, "But... I don't think we should-"

"Bucky." You interrupted, stopping what you know would've become this huge, self-doubting, self-sabotaging speech, and he met your eyes again, sighing slightly, his head tilted, "If we both want this, then why can't we have it?"

He didn't know what to say, he couldn't imagine a world were someone would really want him, as he was, much less a smart, loving and kind, beautiful girl like yourself. He believed you when you said you wanted this, but was still unsure if you would really want him, want him beyond this moment.

"If we go further, I'll never be able to get enough of you." He spoke quietly, this moment between you was so intimate, which was something he'd not experienced in decades. It was terrifying, but so perfect, so right. 

"You have all of me, Bucky. I want you, not just tonight. I've wanted you for months, honey, and if you want me too then what have we got to lose? You can have me whenever you need me, whenever you want me, I'm yours, yours now, yours tomorrow. If you need a hug," You wrapped your arms around his neck as you spoke and held him tighter, "If you need a kiss," You pressed your lips to his, "If you need a release; I'll be there, because you have me, always have."

By the time you were just halfway into your speech, Bucky was a puddle, his brain short-circuiting, his heart beating much faster than it should be with him just sitting, and his whole world view collapsing.

You were his.

You wanted to be his.

He was yours completely.

He surged forward to press his lips to yours, and kissed you for a long moment, using his tongue to memorise the feel of your mouth, the heat of your own tongue against his, and he stood as he kissed you, holding you in his arms as you wrapped your legs around his waist.

He carried you with such ease and sat down on the edge of the huge bed, not once breaking the kiss, or putting an ounce space between your bodies.

You helped him to shrug off his suit jacket, tossing it to the floor as if it didn't probably cost hundreds of dollars, and deft fingers quickly reached to undo his tie.

The tie was silky and smooth, and your imagination was bright with ideas, the image of Bucky fucking you, with your hands tied above your head, or maybe tying Bucky up just the same, kissing his cock teasingly, without letting him touch you.

You tabled the ideas for now, tossing the tie aside.

You could experiment with him in due time, for now you just wanted to be able to touch him as much as possible.

You were both still enraptured in the kiss when Bucky stood again, this time turning around, and laying you down on the mattress, pressing himself against you as he placed one last kiss on your lips, and pulled back to admire the sight of you, blushing with kiss-bitten lips as you lay beneath him.

He traced his hands down your body and stood at the end of the bed, his shirt almost halfway undone.

His fingers glided down your legs, and ended at your ankles as he eyed the strappy heals you wore, admiring how beautiful you looked in them. He imagined keeping them on you, stripping you down and bending you over the closest surface, whilst still wearing the heels, maybe keeping on the thigh-garter too, but he wanted you comfortable, and he wanted you naked.

Gently, he undid the strap on one of your heels, and slowly pulled it off, before doing the same to the other one.

He kept glancing up at you as he did so, watching you so intently, he didn't dare miss a single moment, a single change in your expression.

His hands traced back up your legs, this time, he kissed his way up too, kissing you ankle, your shin, just below the garter.

He stopped himself though, and looked you in the eyes, that serious look returning, "Are you sure you want this?"

"Yes. Please, James."

He smirked, he couldn't not, and his hand drifted to your hip, squeezing there, before using both his hands to flip you over, leaning over you and pressing his hand against your back.

You gasped in surprise, and then felt his fingers against the zip of the dress, his breath against the nape of your neck.

"Should we take this off?" He asked sweetly, and you nodded silently, your voice trapped in your throat, that cocky, dominant persona you had taken on earlier apparently about to be fucked out of you. You couldn't wait.

He flipped you back over to help ease the dress off, leaving you only in a lacy pair of underwear, your chest exposed to him, and once the dress was on the floor, and Bucky allowed himself the chance to finally look at you, he groaned roughly, draping his body over yours and reaching up to caress your breasts, watching as his thumb traced over the hardened peaks of your nipples, "So fucking gorgeous."

Your hands were in his hair, back arching into his touch when he took your nipple into his mouth, paying attention to the other one with his fingers, and as much as you were enjoying it, he was still wearing way too much, and you put your fingers under his chin, pulling his mouth away from you.

He kissed you as you unbuttoned the rest of his shirt and pulled it off, quickly followed by his pants and soon you were both left in your underwear.

You pushed at his shoulder, and he eventually got the memo, and rolled aside, letting you sit on top of him, carefully moving the dagger you had left on the bed onto the bedside table.

When you pulled back from the kiss, he continued to kiss down your chest, but your eyes drifted to the hand he had on your waist, the left one, that still looked like skin even though it wasn't.

You had almost completely forgotten about it, it felt just like skin, was warm like skin, and looked unbelievably life-like, but there was something about it that you really didn't like, it wasn't him, it might've been once, but as Bucky has told you before, he's not been the man he was back in the 40s in over seventy years, and he probably wouldn't ever be him again, which you reminded him was okay, that he didn't owe Steve the version of himself that Bucky thought he would need.

You knew about the struggles Bucky has had with his metal arm, the history that there is behind it, and the hatred he had for it when he was first rehabilitated. You didn't want this impressive Stark invention to become something he used to hide this part of himself, against the needs of his own healing.

You started at his left shoulder, and traced your fingers down the arm, stopping at the silver watch on his wrist, and Bucky stopped kissing you, watching you, waiting.

"Is it the watch?" You asked, and he hesitated, before nodding.

"You don't have to take it off."

You paused, looking down at him, he looked slightly uncomfortable, and you needed to change that.

"I'd like to take it off. Do you want to leave it on?"

He was quiet for a moment, thinking about your question. It made him uncomfortable, seeing the uncanny, flesh arm in place of the metal one he knew was there, and to see a human arm, yet not be able to really feel the touch of your skin against it, only pressure and heat. He didn't like it.

He shook his head, and you smiled, kissing him again as you carefully undid the watch with your mouth still on his, pulling back to see his metal arm visible again, and you intertwined your fingers with his, metal against skin.

You did the same with his other hand, intertwining your fingers, before lifting them both above his head, pressing them into the mattress. You knew he could very easily break out of your grasp, but that didn't make the sight any less pleasing.

You rocked your hips against his, just as you did before, and he groaned, lifting his own hips, seeking more friction.

Reluctantly, you released his hands, and quickly took off your underwear, leaving you naked above him, before you took his off too.

You couldn't possibly be any wetter, your inner thighs a mess of slick as you watched his cock slap against his stomach, painfully hard and leaking at the tip.

"Fuck, James. D'you know how beautiful you are?" You asked, slowly touching the underside of his cock, tracing an enticing vein, before gripping him in your hand and squeezing him.

A moan slipped past his lips, hips lifting from the bed again.

He shook his head in response to you, smiling, "Do you know how beautiful you are?"

He flipped you both over again, his hands tracing your body, lingering in certain areas, squeezing your breasts, caressing your stomach, lifting your thigh to rest on his hip, dipping between your legs to press down on your clit, "You're fuckin' breathtaking, doll, and so fucking wet."

He gathered some of your wetness on his fingers, and dipped them back into his mouth again for a taste, moaning around them.

"I wanna eat you so bad, kitten." He lowered himself to you, resting on his elbows on either side of your head, kissing your neck.

"Later. I need you inside me, James." You pressed your core against him, and he nodded, reaching between the two of you to line himself up, slowly easing inside.

You both moaned as he slid inside you, Bucky's eyes fluttering shut, savouring the sensation whilst trying desperately hard not to give in to the urge to immediately bury himself at the hilt, and fuck you without a moments hesitation.

His hips twitched, cock throbbing inside of you, both of you were so desperate for this, and when he finally pulled his hips back, and rolled them back to yours, it was relief like no other.

His first few thrusts were slower, so enraptured by how you felt around him, hot and wet, and fucking perfect. Eventually, he started to speed up, but favoured fucking you harder, rather than faster. He didn't want this to end too quickly.

You were sprawled beneath him, biting your lower lip and moaning with every stroke of his cock against your walls, his body completely draped over yours so with every roll of his hips, his pelvis stimulated your clit. When he started to fuck you harder, repeatedly hitting a spot deep inside you that made you see stars, you were crying out in pleasure, already feeling close to another orgasm.

"Fuck, sweetheart, you feel so good, y'know that? I'm never gonna get enough of this, gonna want to fuck you all the time, 'm never gonna think of anything else." His forehead was resting on your shoulder, one of his hands on your stomach as his other held him up on the bed, "I want you to be mine. Mine to fuck, mine to kiss, mine every minute of the day. God, I want everyone to know, sweetheart, want them to know you're James' girl."

You were moaning with every word, nodding along, whining when his hand drifted lower, his thumb hovering over your clit, but staying completely still, teasing you.

Your heart was so full, just like your cunt, and you hoped to god he'd follow through on his promises, you needed to be his, just as much as you needed him to be yours.

"James, please." You begged, arching your back into him, and he lifted his head from your shoulder to look at you, smiling with a shake of his head.

"You beg real pretty, doll, but you can do better than that. Tell me what you want, and I'll give it to you."

Your eyes practically rolled back, fuck, you loved hearing him talk like this, "I want to cum, please."

He nodded, leaning in close to you, "You want to cum? I'll let you cum, princess."

He began to rub your clit in steady circles, keeping up a steady rhythm that dragged you so close to release.

"C'mon, come for me, sweetheart."

Your eyes fluttered shut as your orgasm rushed over you, and you gripped Bucky's hair tighter, your cunt clenching around him sending him head first into his own orgasm, his hips stuttering against yours as he came inside you, filling you up with his seed.

His forehead was pressed to yours, both of you slowly coming down from your high, and Bucky waited till you'd caught your breath to lean down and kiss you, slower this time, savouring the taste of you as best he could.

You kissed him back eagerly, aftershocks of your orgasm washing over you and making you clench down on him, still inside of you. Bucky groaned into your mouth, before he hesitantly broke the kiss, and leaned back to slide out of you.

"Fuck, sweetheart, such a fucking mess we made." He breathed roughly, glancing down between your legs, watching his cum seep out of you, so turned on by the filthy sight, before looking up at you again, tracing his eyes up your body, completely bared to him. He took in every detail, and smiled at your flushed cheeks, "You're so fucking beautiful."

You smiled back at him, shaking your head as you wrapped your legs around him and reached out, pulling him back down to you to nudge your nose against his, watching the way his nose scrunched up when he smiled, "So are you."

He huffed a laugh and kissed you, before burying his face into the crook of your neck, wrapping his arms around you and holding you as close to him as possible, practically laying completely on top of you, though he held most of his own weight. As much as you would completely, happily welcome the weight of him on top of you, you also know that breathing is kind of a necessary thing to survive... sadly.

"We need to shower." He murmured against your skin, rubbing his stubbly jaw against your shoulder.

You hummed and nodded, raking your nails across the surface of his back.

"We should probably talk too." He followed, keeping his face hidden from your sight.

"We should, but I don't think there's much to talk about that we haven't already. We both want each other, and not just physically."

He lifted his head and gazed down at you, his expression vulnerable, more vulnerable than you'd ever seen him, even with him naked above you, "So... like lovers?"

You smiled at the old-fashioned term, much preferring it to boyfriend and girlfriend, and you nodded, gently brushing hair from his face, "I'd love that, Buck, if you want that too?"

"Yes, I want that, so much."

"Good, let's make it official then."

He nodded smiling down at you, before he stood from the bed, and he picked you up, wrapping your legs around his waist and carrying you to the hotel en-suite like he had carried you to the bed earlier.

"You're my girl now, sweetheart." He whispered to your ear, loving the way it sounded on his lips.

"And you're my guy." You replied, kissing his nose.

"Sure am." He smiled proudly, setting you down on the bathroom sink as he turned the shower on, before he turned back to you, leaning on his hands, which rested either side of you, "I will be taking you out on a date when we get back, just so you know."

"I can't wait, baby."

[highlady-sorcha]

I Can Be a Nurse (Cassian x Reader)

You'd broken your arm as a kid when you fell from a tree. The fall had seemed impossibly long, just watching the ground rush up to meet you, knowing it's going to hurt when you hit. At the same time, as a human, you hadn't had the flexibility or the knowledge to try and shift around so you didn't break anything- or try to not break anything. The jarring snap of bone as you hit the ground had stuck with you long into adulthood, even after you’d been made into one of the fae. 

  Nothing compared to the crunching of your leg shattering when you fell from the training ring of the House of Wind. 

   It had been a foggy morning. No one else had been there- Azriel off doing whatever it is he does in the shadows, and Cassian off to check on the Illyrian camps. There had been a report of a female having her wings clipped- something Cassian could not stand for. He’d wanted to shoot into the skies last night and hunt down the male that had done it right when he got the message, but you’d made him wait till dawn. The male wouldn’t have gone far if he really thought that what he’d done was right. He’d stick around to face down Cassian out of pure arrogance. 

And if he did run, there was no better tracker and hunter in Prythian than the High Lord’s General himself. 

It had been so long since you started training with Cassian up here, it seemed perfectly safe to venture out to the ring on your own- no matter the weather. You’d been out in the ring on your own plenty of times to stretch and mindstill when life became too much. 

You’d dragged a practice dummy into the ring, but still closer to the side than usual. Yesterday had been particularly brutal and you were sore, the practice dummies were particularly heavy. You’d pulled out a practice blade. A long, heavy great sword, and given the dummy several whacks as a warm up, before heading into practicing some of the maneuvers that you had just started to go over with Cassian. They involved incorporating gymnastics into swordplay, being able to nimbly move around the enemy in unpredictable ways to avoid their attacks and distract them from combat- giving you an easier way into their guard. 

A little over a half hour into the exercises, you’d launched over the dummy’s head, intending land on your knees and bring the sword into his groin. But, the moisture in the air had gathered on the grip of the sword, and it slipped. The butt of the hilt hit the ground just a split second before you did, leaving the point straight in the air, just below your navel. 

You kicked farther over, throwing your weight so that you’d land beyond the point of the sword and avoid disemboweling yourself on an early spring morning. 

It worked, you had not a knick on you and the blade clattered to the ground. Your weight shifted and you landed on your feet several yards behind the dummy, but couldn’t keep your footing and stumbled back- over the edge. 

You had screamed as you fell, grasping at the side of the mountain for any purchase- only managing to snag a rock and rip your fingernail off. You’d fallen and fallen. Down and down and down until you came to a stop at the bottom- landing with all your weight and strength and fear on one single knee. 

You’d passed out from the pain and shock- laid there for hours unconscious. Only when Cassian had returned that afternoon and not been able to find you did he go out to the ring and start looking around. 

“(y/n)?” He hollered, his voice echoing off the sheer faces of the mountains around him. “(Y/n)? We gotta go, we’re late for that meeting with Rhys!” He paused then, pricking his pointed ears, listening for any sound. 

He was just about to yell again when he picked up the sound of breathing, and bristled. His siphons glared, casting a red ring of light around him. Cassian opened his mouth and inhaled deeply. As the breeze blew around the edge of the house, he caught the faintest tinge of fear carried with it. Stale, hours old. 

Cassian clenched his jaw as he marched around the edge of the house, praying to the mother, the cauldron, anything out there that this not be related to not being able to find you. 

A stronger breeze blew in as he approached the edge of the ring you’d fallen over. The stink of fear was much stronger here, and for the first time he noticed the blade laying behind the practice dummy. The red light from his siphons flashed brighter, glaring off the shining blade. 

Panic gripped his gut as he jogged to the edge, noticing a scuff on the ground from your boot. When he looked over the edge and saw your body laying in a crumpled pile far below, he roared and leaped over the edge himself. Throwing himself into an almost vertical dive, he was at the bottom in a heartbeat. 

You laid at his feet, in a broken heap, just inches from the tips of his boots. He knelt as he screamed in his mind for help. 

Rhys, Rhys please help. Please, I’m at the House of Wind and- 

Before he could finish the thought, Rhys appeared out of nowhere, stepping onto the rock beside him. Cassian carefully scooped you into his arms, your limbs bent all the wrong ways, things shifting and cracking under your skin as he lifted you from the ground. Gut rolling, he cradled you close. 

Without a word, Rhysand had laid a hand on Cassian’s shoulder and winnowed you to the river house. 

Madja had visited. Spending hours setting bones to heal properly, doing what she could to minimize the lasting impacts. As night began to fall, you awoke in a haze of blinding pain.

“Cass..” You whispered. He was the first thing that came to mind for comfort. A gentle hand the size of a bear paw folded one of your hands into his. The palms were warm and covered in thick layers of callouses, earned from years of hard labor. 

“I’m here, kitten. I’m here,” he murmured before pressing his mouth softly to your temple. Pain raced up your neck into the back of your head as you turned towards him before prying your eyes open. Thick crust clung to your lashes, and your vision swam for a moment before focusing. 

You were in the room Feyre had given birth to Nyx in the year before. A room that you knew everyone generally avoided like it was cursed. Only when someone was sick and needed tending did they sleep in here. 

Cassian had pulled a velvet tufted chair up to the side of the bed. His eyes had dark circles under them, his mouth a taught line. He leaned close, on his elbows with your hand close to his lips. The intensity in his hazel eyes was too much. 

You groaned as your stomach flipped, nausea rolling over you in thick waves. In turn, clenching and unclenching your throat. For a few moments, you fought the sensation, a clammy sweat breaking out on your forehead before your eyes snapped open. 

“Trash-“ you got out, before vomit filled your mouth. 

Cassian lunged to the rescue. A dented bucket was in his hand. He braced a hand between the back of your shoulders and pulled you up to sitting just as you retched, the sick slapping into the bottom of the bucket. 

You coughed and gagged and choked, until there couldn’t possibly be anything left to come up, ever again. Finally, you sagged back against the pile of pillows, drenched in sweat, your nose running and eyes stinging. The muscles in your stomach ached from the force of throwing up. 

Unable to do anything else, you just groaned and shut your eyes, trying to think back through what happened and how you’d gotten there.

Once you’d laid back, Cassian pulled the bucket away and set it on the floor beside his chair. He looked at your face, pale, bruised and cut from the fall for a moment longer before standing up. 

Cassian carried the bucket to the hall, murmuring something to someone outside the door before gently shutting it again. The sink in the attached bathroom ran for a moment before turning off, and the sound of water draining was the only thing that filled the silence of the room. 

A moment later, a cool cloth was laid across your forehead, covering your eyes. Trailing drips of luxuriously cold water raced down your temples, and you nearly moaned at how fresh, how relieving it felt. 

Wood creaked and groaned as Cassian took his seat again, the chair protesting under his bulk. He took your hand back in his, kissing your knuckles before allowing the room to lapse into silence. 

A considerable amount of time had passed, and you’d dozed before you felt better. The pain was still a raging presence, but it had lessened in some places- namely your head. 

You pulled off the rag Cassian had placed on your forehead, now warm from your body and struggled to sit up. 

Warm hands cupped under your arms and pulled you upright, against the headboard. Your head spun, but stopped after a second. Weight bowed the mattress beside you, and although your leg screamed in pain at the shift, you swallowed it back. 

Cassian was still in his leathers- never settled in for the night. Mud still crusted his boots and you could see that his chin length locks were disheveled from flying. 

His intense eyes were focused on you and he took your hand in his again. 

“I fell,” you offered. Your voice barely more than a croak.

Cassian gave you a wry smile that didn’t meet his eyes. 

“Yea, I’d say you did. Do you remember what happened?” 

Dutifully, you relayed your morning. The fog, the practice, a tiny mistake that had almost cost you your immortal life. 

“But I’m ok Cass- really. I’ll heal.” You assured him. 

Before he said anything, Cass reached for a glass of water that sat on the bedside table. He held the cup and tipped it to your lips. You braced your own hands over his, expecting him to let go- but he didn’t.

The water was sweet and cool, and trickled down the back of your throat in a revitalizing way. Gently, you pushed his hands away when you’d had enough. 

His eyes were soft as he took in your face. As you watched, they began to rim with silver before they overflowed. 

Cassian brushed it away, but not before you saw it. A lump formed in your throat and your own eyes began to sting. 

“What’s wrong Cass? Why are you crying?” You choked out. 

He scooted the chair forward so his knees were smashed against the side of the mattress and took your hand in both of his. Slowly,  he bowed his head and laid it on his hands. His long locks fell toward and tickled the inside of your wrist. 

“I got to the mountain a while after you fell. I don’t want to think about how long you were laying there,” he finally said. “I didn’t know what had happened, I just had this feeling I couldn’t shake and kept looking for you instead of just assuming you’d gone somewhere. Like, down in the city. When I finally looked over the edge of the ring and saw you laying there at the bottom…” He was silent for a long moment, his breathing evened out as he paced each breath to try and calm himself down. “You looked like a doll someone had thrown away. Like trash. I thought you were dead.” He sobbed. 

Your heart constricted. As much as your ribs screamed in protest at the movement, you twisted just enough to run your hand over his scalp, through his hair while murmuring that it was ok. 

He looked up finally, with tears in his eyes, his nose starting to run. “I know you’re in pain. I’ve had shattered bones and there’s not much that hurts that bad. I felt terrible when Madja said that was the biggest issue, because of how relieved I was.” He swallowed hard. “I just can’t lose you. Maybe I haven’t said it often enough- I probably haven’t. But there is no me, without you.” 

You laid back against the pillows and stared back at him, willing warmth and love to him. Praying that he could feel half the love you felt for him. 

“It’s a good thing I’m going to heal then,” you finally said. 

Cassian laughed, before sniffing and wiping his nose down his arm. He grinned then and fixed you with a mischievous smile. “It is, and good thing I can be a nurse.” 

**Thanks for Reading! This is one posted on my Wattpad account, but thought I would share it here. See if anybody was interested! Feel free to tell me what you think

[letoghanima]

THE MUMMY (1999) dir. Stephen Sommers

[zombeesknees]

#you’re in public richard   #‘checking for injuries’ ok you’re insane for that second gif caress

[claireswritingcorner]

Fated Warrior (Cassian x Reader)

Summary// You are a healer helping during yet another Hybern war when you meet a certain Illyrian warrior.

You hadn’t been a healer all that long. Or at least that’s what it felt like. Madja had seen your talent from a young age, taking you under her wing and insisting on being your personal teacher. She was like a mother to you, and because of that, you had quickly become one of the best healers. Now, your abilities were being put to the ultimate test; war. Hybern had once again struck, this time aiming for Dawn Court. Thesan had called upon the other courts for help. It had been a bloody battle thus far. As you ran back and forth trying to help the injured, Madja appeared.

“Y/n we need your help” the look on her face made your heart dropped as you passed the cloth you were using to the woman next to you, instructing her to stitch the man in laying on the cot.

You rushed behind Madja as she filled you in, “Hybern struck the Illyrian unit. Most of them made it out, but it took a toll”

You were confused until you came up to the group. Their wings were shredded. You walked towards one of the males, turning him to look at the damage.

Only once before had you dealt with Illyrian wings. When the Inner Circle went after Nesta and Elain, Cassians wings were destroyed. When he was brought back, he was placed in your care. It was one of the most challenging things you had ever done. The good news was that these weren’t nearly as bad. As another group of healers arrived, you explained the damage and what was needed. Pretty soon, the tents were full, with the girls running back and forth rushing to fix them up.

By nightfall, you could hardly keep your eyes open. Your hands ached as you washed the last rag clean, leaving the water bloody. As you made your way back, you saw him. Cassian was going from tent to tent, checking on his men. When he saw you approaching the camp, he made his way to you.

“The wings, they’re going to be okay?”

You nodded, understanding the pride the males had for their wings, “Yes, they should be healed well enough to go back out within a few days”

He closed his eyes and let out a breath, “Good. Thank you y/n”

“It’s no problem. You should rest. Try not to worry, I’ll take good care of them”

He smiled at you, “I wouldn’t expect any less,” Pausing he looked at you, placing his hands on your arms, “You okay?”

You hadn’t realized that you had begun to sway. Straightening yourself, you met his eyes, “Yes, sorry” you felt the blush coloring your cheeks, embarrassed that you'd almost eaten dirt.

“When was the last time you slept?”

Now that you thought about it, you weren’t entirely sure. Your silence was answer enough.

“Y/n if you expect to help anyone else, you need to sleep too. I’ll let Madja know so she can send another healer to look over the tents. Sleep, please.”

You nodded as you turned to head back to your tent, still feeling his arms around you the whole way.

————————————

You awoke to shouts.

“Y/n! Y/n wake up!”

Rhys burst into the tent. You looked up to see Azriel close behind him, working to keep Cassian from falling.

You threw yourself out of the bed, “What the hell happened?”

“We were scouting the surrounding area. A group from Hybern followed us, he got hit with one of their swords. It’s not healing,” Az explained.

You rushed over to Cassians other side and helped guide him to your bed.

“The sword was coated in faebane,” Rhys looked over to Cass as he grabbed a bucket of water and a cloth.

Handing it to you, he traded a look with Az.

“Go. I got this,” you nodded towards the tent doors, understanding that they couldn’t stay and wait for their brother.

As they left, you turned your focus to the male in front of you.

It took you a while. But when the wound finally started to heal itself you let out a sigh of relief. Cassian had woken up some time ago but hadn’t said anything, simply watching you work. As you finished wrapping his abdomen, the adrenaline left your body. It was then that you realized how close you were. Try as you might, you couldn’t help it as your eyes tracked his body. Years of training had given him a sculpted physique that you couldn’t help but admire. More than that, he was in your bed. You looked up to find him once again watching you, a slight smirk on his face.

“Thank you y/n”

“It’s no problem. Just try to be careful. Your body isn’t going to heal as quickly until it recovers from the faebane”

He thought for a moment before asking, “Have you or anyone else seen any symptoms resembling the faebane yet?”

You shook your head, “No, not yet. But that’s not to say this will be the last time. I’m sure whoever used it isn’t the only one who has it.”

He contemplated your words and nodded. He looked around your room, then down to the soiled sheets that had become stained with his blood, “Well I hope you got that sleep because I don’t think this is coming out”

You laughed, “I did, thank you. And you're right, it won’t. It’s okay though, I forgive you”

He smiled, “Well thank the mother for that”

You froze as you felt a tug. Realization hit you as you felt the golden coil unravel, snapping out. You pulled but felt nothing from the other side.

Cassian looked at you, noticing the change in your demeanor, “Everthing okay y/n?”

You quickly adjusted your smile, “Yes I’m fine”

He looked at you as if he knew you were lying. He definitely knew you were, but you kept your smile up as you grabbed the water bucket and brought it out of the tent.

You were mates.

————————————

It had been a day since the bond snapped. You hadn't been able to stop thinking, trying to drown thoughts of your mate in your work. Ultimately, it hadn’t helped. You’d gone back and forth about whether or not to tell him. You knew he hadn’t noticed anything yet as you had felt nothing through the bond. It pained you. Even with the few glimpses you’d caught of him since yesterday, your heart ached to tell him the truth. You didn’t know how long you could go on like this. Why not? If you told him the worst he could do was reject the bond, which could still happen if you waited. Best case, he accepted it. You wouldn’t let yourself hope for that instead making up your mind, you went out in search of him.

“Do you know where Cassian is?”

Madja turned, “Dear the Illyrian units just left to try to take Hybern by surprise”

Your heart dropped. He was back out fighting. Oh gods. What if he got hurt? What if…what if he didn’t come back? What if you never got to tell him? You cursed yourself for not saying anything the moment the bond snapped.

Sensing your unease Madja took your hands, “He’ll be back soon. Shouldn’t be more than a few hours,” she tilted her head, “I never thought I’d see the day that you, y/n, were fussing over a man that wasn’t under your care.”

You looked at her, unable to keep it in anymore, “He’s my mate.”

Her smile dropped, “Oh my, I see. He doesn’t know does he?”

You shook your head, looking at your feet.

“Y/n, he’ll be back. It would take more than Hybern’s got to take him down.”

You nodded looking around, “Well looks like we’ve got work to do.”

Seeing your weak attempt to change the conversation, Madja smiled and handed you her cloth, “Better get started”

————————————

It had been the longest four hours of your life. You hadn’t stopped working since your conversation with Madja. You were cleaning tools when you heard it.

You rushed outside to find Madja walking towards you, “They’re back. Y/n he’s okay, everyone is”

You hadn’t noticed your eyes had started to water as you took off. Sprinting as fast as you could to find him. Your mate.

As you came into the clearing where the men were standing, you spotted him.

He looked up to find you barreling towards him. His brows furrowed, trying to figure out why you were still running when he felt it. A tightening in his chest with a string that led to you.

You slowed down, feeling the other side lash out as you watched his face transform. Rhys was now in the clearing. You watched as his head snapped up to his brother, then to you. A smirk took over his face as Cassian threw down his swords and rushed to you.

“Y/n…”

You looked up at him, questioning whether or not he was happy that you were mates.

He responded through the bond. Feeling a slight tug, and then waves. Waves and waves of love and admiration.

You smiled so hard your face hurt as he closed the distance between you. Putting his hands on your waist, he kissed you fiercely, slanting his mouth for a better angle. Your hands dragged up his muscled chest and dove into his hair. You wrapped your legs around his waist as he lifted you up. He groaned into your mouth as your fingers tangled into his hair. Gripping you tighter, he moved you over the growing bulge in his pants. You let out a moan as Cassian hiked you higher. His mouth continued to move over yours as he began walking in search of his tent.

[acourtofwhatthefuck]

Fireleaf (Part Twenty-Three)

Oh, @greeneyedivy and I are SO not ready for this 😭😭😭. The LAST PART. It has been such a pleasure having you readers come along this journey with us. Right from the very first conversations Ivy and I had, when Fireleaf was just a little idea, we knew it was going to be something special. We've enjoyed every second of working on this story, and we thank you all so, so much for the comments, the likes, the reblogs, the asks. We appreciate you and love you all, and we hope you enjoy this final chapter!

And Ivy, my love, my soulmate, my moon and stars, my braincells, I thank you for writing this with me, for sharing your brilliant brain and ideas and coming together with me to write the Lucien fic we so badly wanted in our lives. I love you wildly 💋.

Warnings: None.

✧: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

Dion and Willow were officially, finally, mated.

Their bond, your sister had told you in an excited letter sent to Dayview Cottage, had snapped into place when they, too, had decided to take a vacation. 

And though you and Lucien had taken an entire, much-needed month to just be together, you were looking forward to seeing everyone. To celebrating. To see what the new era of the Autumn Court was like.

“Hold still.” You murmured to Lucien, your faces inches apart. He’d watched your reflection in the mirror applying gold shimmer to your face, and had decided that he wanted to match.

“I couldn’t get any more still if I tried.” Your mate snorted back.

“You’re a fidget.” You dabbed at his cheeks, the gold absolutely resplendent against the tone of his skin. You leaned in to plant a quick kiss to his lips. “But a very pretty one.”

You couldn’t be more excited for Dion and Willow’s mating ceremony. A night of eating and drinking and dancing and just enjoying that the worst was behind you all. And after that, you were ready — ready to throw yourself into whatever the future held.

With both you and Lucien dressed up to the nines, the two of you stepped back to survey yourselves, side-by-side in the mirror. Your dress was of the same burgundy shade as the tailored jacket he wore. You’d both left your hair flowing down around your shoulders, little flowers pinned within — which Lucien had also insisted on joining in with. And with the shimmering gold on your faces, the sunlight streaming through the window, the love that radiated off of you both…

“We look…” you blinked, lost for words.

“Like a king and queen.” Lucien finished with a smile. “Or a High Lord and High Lady. Perhaps we should start our own court.”

You snorted. “A court of chaos.”

“A court of flowers and gold.”

You reached out, touching that gold that lined his cheeks, his outer eyes. “A court of poems and sonnets.”

And those russet eyes…emotion filled them. Love. Happiness.

“A court of always and forever.” He grabbed your hand. “Come, my queen. We have a ceremony to attend.”

✧: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

They’d opted for an evening ceremony, when the colours of the court were at their greatest. It was as though the day’s sunlight had lent its vibrancy to the various shades of autumn, painting a landscape that was simply breathtaking.

Almost as breathtaking as Willow in her gown. 

Ivory and jewelled, every drop of light seemed coaxed towards her. And she — she was glowing. As was Dion.

They made an utterly stunning couple, and that feeling of rightness that radiated from them, their love…you knew that you and Lucien must give off the same feeling. And proudly so. 

The ceremony felt intimate, despite the many people who had gathered to attend. The temple in which it was held was bathed in the buttery evening light, shining through the floor-to-ceiling windows and seeming to cast a spotlight on Dion and Willow, and the priestess who had been selected to swear them officially mated. And gathered on the seats to watch the ceremony — your family.

Not the one you’d been born into. There was no sign of your mother or your other sisters, and it didn’t bother you one bit. Everyone you cared for was there, in that room. Eris and Linden. Catrin and Helion. Members of the Vanserra household’s staff that you were all equally fond of. And to tie it all up — you finally had the pleasure of meeting the other two Vanserra brothers, Lux and Hale.

It said a lot that they hadn’t rushed back upon Beron’s death, but were here for the ceremony, wives and children in tow. It was a relief that your introductions hadn’t given off any negative feelings, not made any alarm bells ring. It seemed that Lux and Hale were another two decent Vanserras. And had absolutely no qualms about the fact that Beron had been killed, and by Eris, no less.

And so, Dion and Willow swore their eternal love and loyalty to each other, their hands joined as the priestess announced them Cauldron-blessed. And with a chorus of applause and well-wishes echoing through the temple as they sealed their vows with a kiss, you weren’t surprised to find your eyes tearing up.

Such a journey you’d all been on. So much you’d all had to withstand. And yet here you were — you with your love, and your sister with hers.

Beron Vanserra had tried to break you. Had tried to destroy what you’d dared to dream of having. And now you had it — the happy ending. You all did. And he would never again be around to ruin it. 

You caught both Dion and Willow in a tight embrace, barely able to congratulate them around the lump in your throat. But when Lucien wrapped his arms around the three of you…when the four of you squeezed each other and truly stepped back to look at what you’d lived to experience—

You’d never felt happiness like it.

✧: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

The true celebration began when the sun had set, and everyone had sat down for the feast. 

The air held nothing but a sting of pure elation as you ate and drank and talked, the various voices of your loved ones all mingling together to create the most beautiful sound you’d ever heard. There was nobody in that room that didn’t deserve to be there — that didn’t belong. And as you sat at a table with your mate and his brothers, getting to know Lux and Hale and their wives, their children running around excitedly whilst you talked, your sense of family only strengthened. 

This was home. This was love. 

Soon, the food was gone, making way for the best part of the evening — the music and the dancing. A live band of minstrels played fast, excited music amongst the beauty of the gardens, and it wasn’t long before most were gathered on the grass, their clothes a flurried flash of colour as they spun and danced and cheered, the flames of lit pyres casting such brilliant, intimate light. Every song was better than the last, every dance more freeing.

It was in the gardens that you found Linden — leaning against a wall, a wine glass in his hand as he watched the dancing. 

Or rather — you realised, as you followed his line of sight — as he watched Eris dancing.

You sidled up to your friend, easing his chalice from his hand and finishing the drink off in one huge gulp. He gaped at you in comical outrage, reaching out to gently pinch your arm.

“Asshole.” He admonished playfully. “I was drinking that.”

Your eyebrows flicked up. “Were you? It seems to be that the wine went warm while you were busy ogling the High Lord.”

Linden scowled. “I wasn’t ogling, I was just…”

“Ogling.”

The two of you stared at each other, a beat passing—

And then threw your heads back in laughter at the same. Linden pulled you into his side, draping his arm around your shoulder.

“Okay. Perhaps I was ogling a little. He’s a very pretty High Lord.” A smirk played on his lips. “Where is your lover boy?”

“Right now?” Your eyes flicked around the huge gardens, looking for any sign of where Lucien had got to. “I believe he’s happily being chased by a group of children. I don’t have the heart to break it up.”

You felt the chuckle that rumbled through Linden as he continued to hold you against him. And you contentedly sunk into the embrace, savouring his warmth, his scent.

You’d lost so much time with him when he’d been sent away. Never again would you lose that contact.

It was as though he’d read your thoughts as he pulled back, angling himself to study you. And despite the comfort and ease you’d always felt with him, in that moment, you felt strangely…self-conscious, under the intensity of his gaze.

“…What?” You asked, running a hand over the tight, hugging fabric of your dress.

“You’ve been through so much.” Linden murmured, rare emotion sparking in his eyes that instantly replaced the humour. “So much in that time I was away. All those years I spent training you…strengthening you…I never could have imagined what you’d have to eventually face. What you’d have to use that strength for.”

Pink dusted your cheeks as you dipped your head. “You taught me well. It was the strength that you gave me…thoughts of you…that got me through it. I never forgot what you said when you gave me that braid.”

He smiled — though it soon dropped. “I’m just—sorry, Y/N. That I didn’t come sooner. That I—”

“Enough of that.” Your hand flew up to cup over his mouth, halting his words in their tracks. “We were both victims of circumstance. Of my father’s schemes. But looking back on it now, I think…I think I needed to face it on my own. To learn what strength I truly had.”

Your dear, closest friend stared at you, the regret in his eyes eddying and shifting into warmth. Softness. Pride.

“I firmly believe,” you said, removing your hand from his mouth, “that everything happened exactly the way it needed to. Even the painful, lonely parts. The parts when I wasn’t sure I could get through it. I think…I think I had to face those things to get where I am now, Linden. And I couldn’t be happier—”

Your words cut off with a whoosh of air escaping you as he yanked you closer to him, wrapping his broad, muscled arms around you and squeezing you tight. His hand came up to cradle the back of your head, and he pressed your face against his chest. Pressed a kiss to your hair.

“I am so fucking proud of you.” He said quietly — just loud enough for only you to hear over the music. “So proud. You are brave, Y/N, and you are strong. And I cannot think of anyone more worthy of this happy ending.”

Tears warmed your eyes, and you pulled back to look at him, your arms still wrapped around him. “And what of you? What’s your happy ending?”

You didn’t think he was even aware that his gaze immediately made its way over to Eris, still dancing and showing no signs of stopping. Linden seemed to consider your words for a moment, his head cocked slightly.

“I’m not at all sure.” He admitted softly. “The future is always uncertain, no? But…but for now, I have a reason to stay here. And I feel excited to explore that.”

You could already see it — Eris, High Lord of the Autumn Court, and Linden at his side. The two made a stunning pair. And perhaps Eris was the home that Linden had spent over two centuries searching for.

At the mere thought of it, you almost succumbed to your emotions again — until a burst of excited giggles sounded nearby, and both you and Linden looked up to watch Lucien happily zipping through the hedges, his nephews and nieces hot on his trail.

Linden chuckled, loosening his hold on you slightly. “What’s next for the two of you, then? Children?”

You blinked. “Cauldron, no. I’d like…I’d like to live first. To just…be with my mate. And to see what the world is like when I’m not watching it through the bars of a golden cage.”

His smile was so utterly brilliant as he placed a kiss on your forehead. “I can’t wait to see what you do with the world.”

Before you could think of a reply, Eris was suddenly flouncing over to you, his cheeks flushed and his hair tousled. He met Linden’s eyes briefly, sharing a heated smile that was too intimate for your eyes, before he turned to you. 

“Care to dance with me, sister?” He held out a hand.

Your heart immediately warmed — not just at that word, but…but at the memory. All that time ago, now, at the Harvest Festival, when Eris had asked you the same then, too. 

Neither of you had known, at that time, the bond that would be built between you. 

One that you knew you would never, ever let go of.

It was with a great, unguarded smile that you placed your hand in his and squeezed.

“It would be my pleasure.” 

✧: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

You didn’t know how long you and Eris spent dancing, your feet eventually beginning to ache and the heat of the nearby pyres causing sweat to roll down your neck and back. But eventually, the fast-paced music slowed into something gentler, and you smiled as the two of you followed its lead, falling into a more languid dance that offered you the space to talk as you moved around the other dancing bodies.

“You look beautiful.” Eris told you earnestly, fond eyes flicking over you. “I hope my brother told you that.”

You laughed softly. “He tells me multiple times a day.”

“Ah — you’ve trained him well.”

The two of you shared a grin, yours shifting into a softer smile as you stared back at him. “You look beautiful, too.”

Indeed, he looked every bit the honourable High Lord he’d always been. A tailored suit of the deepest red and gold brocade, a crown of twining autumn leaves atop his head, and the strength and pride that shone in his amber eyes—

Magnificent. Eris Vanserra — your High Lord, your friend, your brother — was truly magnificent.

“And how is it?” You squeezed his hand. “Being the most important person in the entire court, and all.”

He snorted. “It’s a fucking chore. I’ve never drowned in so much paperwork. I’ve almost lost my voice multiple times, from the sheer amount of people I have to talk to. Sometimes, I’m so tired that I fall asleep sitting up — eating dinner.” He paused, his eyes glancing over your head…to Linden. “But I find that I’m actually enjoying it. Perhaps because of who I get to do it with.”

Something squeezed tightly in your heart. The realisation, perhaps, that things couldn’t have turned out more perfectly for your close unit than it had.

There had been pain. Tragedies. A senseless loss of three innocent lives.

But together, you would all live for them. Together, you would make your court into something everyone could be proud of.

Eris suddenly pinched your side, and you raised an eyebrow. “And what of you?” He asked.

“What of me?” You shot back.

“How is it being a wife?”

Your feet stuttered in their movements, causing you to stumble so clumsily that Eris had to right your stance. You blinked up at him to find him smirking at you, mischief shining in his eyes.

“You little shit, how did you know?” You asked.

You’d deliberately kept the news a secret and surprise, not wanting to steal the thunder of Dion and Willow’s ceremony. 

But it had been that same night that you’d officially accepted your mating bond that Lucien had gazed at you, his fingers rubbing soothing circles into your skin — and asked you to marry him.

And you, of course, had accepted. 

You didn’t want a big ceremony. Not after all the planning you’d had to sit through for your wedding with Dion. The thought of months of planning a big event, just for the satisfaction of those you’d have to invite, made you recoil.

You just…wanted to be Lucien’s mate. And his wife. And so it was that very next morning that the two of you had gone to a temple alone, dressed in nothing but casual, everyday clothes, and had a priestess swear you not only mated, but wed. 

Lucien Vanserra — your mate and husband. You still couldn’t get your head around how lucky you were.

But the two of you had hidden your rings for the duration of Dion and Willow’s ceremony. You gaped at Eris—

“How did you know?” You asked again.

“One of the first tasks I wanted to face as High Lord,” Eris answered, “was to visit the various temples across the courts and begin discussions of repairs and renovations that my father neglected for years to arrange. He held no regard for the priestesses and their beliefs — and he allowed a lot of their temples to waste away over the centuries. It was during one of these visits that a priestess enthusiastically offered me congratulations on yours and Lucien’s nuptials — not realising, of course, that the two of you had kept it to yourselves.”

You snorted, hiding your face against his shoulder as your cheeks flushed. “I’m sorry. We didn’t want a big ceremony…after everything.”

“What could you possibly have to be sorry for?” He paused, pulling back to stare at you. “After all the two of you have been through, it seemed only right that you had something just for yourselves. Weddings are a chore, anyway. I’m happy for you.”

You swallowed hard, sure your eyes were glistening again. “Thank you.”

“And I’m absolutely honoured to officially welcome you to the family.” He grinned. “Mrs.Vanserra.”

You blinked, still not entirely used to the title. You’d not found yourself in a situation, yet, where you’d needed to be referred to by your new surname. 

It sounded…strange. Wonderfully so. And right.

“You know,” you cleared the lump from your throat, “there was a time when I dreaded the day I would be called that. Now…now I couldn’t be more proud.”

“Because you married the right Vanserra.” He squeezed your hand. “And you’re going to have a sickeningly happy life together, just as you deserve to.”

Never, under the heat of a thousand fucking suns, could you have predicted such an outcome. On that first night that you’d been at the estate, when you’d stumbled upon Lucien reading in the forest…never would you have thought that he would be the one to become your husband. Or your mate.

Perhaps you should have had an inkling — with how drawn you’d been to him, right from that first encounter. 

Be it fate or the Cauldron or the Mother…the path you’d journeyed, even at its toughest, deepest cracks in the road, had been the one you’d needed to traverse to get where you were now.

You had no regrets. Not a single one.

“And you and Linden…” You smiled up at him — your brother-in-law. “Perhaps one day, we’ll be revisiting this conversation, and you’ll be calling yourself Eris—”

“Y/N!”

Upon the interruption, the two of you glanced up…just in time to see Lucien hurrying over to you, hands firmly steadying the little girl who was perched on his shoulders…and who was sprinkling daisies in his hair.

“Look.” Your mate beamed at you, entirely in his element. “Hana and I made daisy chains.”

You stared at your mate. 

And then turned to meet Eris’s gaze.

And you knew — you damn well knew, as the two of you threw your heads back and laughed loud enough to drown out the music, that you were both thinking the same thing.

Thinking back to that conversation you’d had with Eris all that time ago, not long after you and Lucien had first slept together.

To what Eris had said to you: we don’t have the luxury or freedom to go gallivanting around fields and making daisy chains, or whatever it is that Lucien does in his spare time—

The two of you laughed. And laughed and laughed and laughed until your stomachs hurt, until tears were escaping your eyes.

And Lucien just blinked at you. “What did I say?”

Eris snorted, shaking his head. His laughter was still choking him slightly as he let go of you, pushing you towards your mate.

“Dance with your wife, brother.” He said. “And stop hogging our niece. I want to dance with Hana.”

Poor Lucien still looked bewildered as Eris reached up, plucking his niece from his brother’s shoulders and setting her gently on the ground. And the sight of him tenderly leading her into a dance, holding onto her little hands and guiding her feet whilst she spun around in her dress — your heart damn near burst out of your chest at the sight.

But then Lucien was spinning you around to face him, planting his hands on your waist. You grinned up at him, holding back another laugh at the smattering of daisies in his hair.

He pushed his lips into a playful pout. “Why are you laughing at me, mate?”

Because you were happy. Elated. Because you could finally breathe and imagine a future. One that you’d chosen for yourself. 

But you merely pushed up onto the tips of your toes, a smile still on your lips as you kissed the love of your life.

“I’m not.” You said softly. “I just love you.”

✧: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

Hours upon hours passed, with no signs of the celebrations slowing. 

You enjoyed every second of it. Dancing with Lucien, and then Dion, and then Willow. Sitting down on the blanket that Catrin and Helion occupied and enthusiastically speaking to them, drinking down their stories. Getting to know even more about your other brothers-in-law and their lives, their histories. And you and Linden chasing the children through the wildflowers and joining their hands to dance in a circle whilst the sweet sound of childlike laughter mingled with the ongoing music.

It was easily one of the happiest nights of your life.

And when the sky began to lighten…when things finally began to wind down, and the children had curled up around Catrin and Helion and fallen asleep, and guests had begun to return home, and Linden and Eris and Dion and Willow each broke away from the group to go off in their couples…you grabbed Lucien by the hand and tugged him away with you. 

The two of you settled atop a knoll covered in vibrant wildflowers, and it was there that Lucien slotted you between his legs and you happily, quietly, watched the sun rise over the court, painting the sky in peachy hues. 

A new day for all of you. A new era. The rising of the sun felt beautifully symbolic, and for a long, long while, you and Lucien didn’t need to speak a word. You were content to just lie in the grass and flowers together, his fingers rubbing soothing circles into your skin. 

Day had truly broken by the time he angled you to look at him. And his russet eyes were brilliant and unguarded as he gazed at you.

“The book,” he said — the first words he’d spoken since you’d nestled down on that knoll, “the book of poems and sonnets.”

You reached out, idly playing with the braid he now wore every day. “What of it?”

For a moment, he seemed to ponder his words. And then he smiled…somewhat coyly. “I don’t know…it sounds a little silly, but…I began to wonder if that book was a prophecy, somehow. Of our story. Each of my favourite poems from that book — that I knew by heart before I even met you — seem strangely…accurate…to us.”

Your head fell into a tilt. “How so?”

He laid back, pulling you down with him. And his fingers slid into the strands of your hair as he stared up at the morning sky.

“The tempered glow of moonlit skies, sketched waltzes in his lover’s eyes, and no immortal heart did dance, the way his did so thoroughly.” He recited, the words smooth like silk. “That one reminds me of the masquerade ball — when we first kissed.”

You smiled, perching your chin on his chest. Gazing up at him. “And what else?”

“And in the storm, however brief, he bared himself for soil and leaf, and skin-to-skin he branded her deep, with all his flames that burned beneath — that one reminds me of the hunting trip. When we bedded down in that cave for the night and…kept each other warm.” He squeezed you. “And it goes on…a mossy cave that swallowed light, was where they bedded down that night, and as she slept, her face to his, he knew he’d never win their fight. And it’s strange…because I remember watching you sleep that night…looking so soft and gentle…and thinking that there was no way I was going to be able to fight off my feelings.”

Slowly, your fingers inched up to his face, dancing over his jaw, his lips. The words sent a shiver down your spine…such beautifully accurate words. 

It was almost as though that ancient, beaten-up copy of Poems and Sonnets Volume II had, indeed, prophesied the journey that you and Lucien would be taken on.

“I love that book.” You hummed softly, pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth. “It makes me think of that first time I saw you…reading it against that tree, and looking effortlessly beautiful while doing so. I found you breathtaking.”

His lips twitched beneath yours. “Even though I was terribly rude to you?”

“I think it intrigued me even more.”

The two of you laughed, your eyes meeting and just…staring. Drinking each other in, bathed in that early morning light. Your happiness glowed even brighter than the sun.

“There was one more poem…” Lucien murmured, his breath fanning your face. “One more that always stuck in my mind.”

You brushed your thumb over his cheek. “Tell me.”

He paused, eyes scanning your face. And then he sucked in a slow breath, as though he was…nervous. “…For she was love, and lust, and hate. The lightning storm that souls create. And what chased him nightly from his sleep — the truth. She was, in fact, his mate.”

You stared at him, a lump rising in your throat.

And Lucien stared back at you.

And you only became aware of your tears as your vision blurred, and Lucien was reaching out to wipe the teardrops from your cheeks. Reaching out to kiss them away with his lips.

It was your story. Poems and Sonnets Volume II was, somehow, your story. 

It had all been there, perched in Lucien’s hands, from the first moment you’d laid eyes on him. A beautiful telling of what was to come.

And you were thankful for it all — even the bad parts, the hard parts. The parts that had seen you curling yourself up to cry yourself to sleep at night.

Because every bit of it had lent itself to this outcome — you and Lucien here, now. In love. Mates. Husband and wife.

Lucien Vanserra. He was yours, and you were his.

It was a purely happy sob that choked you as you told him, “I love you so much.”

And those beautiful russet eyes shone brighter than any sun possibly could.

He leaned in, pressing a kiss to your lips. A promise of forever.

“I love you, too, my fireling.”

✧: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

lucien tag list: @brekkershadowsinger @sillycrownlady @ruler-of-hades @lectoradefics @lucyysthings @littlemoonash @janzquu @carmelalikestoread @cathyac @tasha2627 @elkessecretplace @inkyvelvet @acourtofthought @zazite95 @antisocialcookie16 @sehalpha25 @fuckthatfeeling @adamgetawaydriver @livelaughlovenestaarcheron @lostpirateinwonderland @scrunklybunny @owllover123 @vangoghsbaby @goodbyemilkyway @babyimagangsta2 @cynicalpotato95 @draguta @pee-stachio @rem-ie @mateobneun-rattattui

[writingsbychlo]

UNWIND | azriel

summary; azriel is caught up in his head, and needs to fuck out his frustrations with the woman he loves.

word count; 8543

notes; I can’t tell if this is hot or pure shit so lmk because this is a little more than my usual smut levels. also, this is a vague follow up to ‘focus’ but very very loosely. can totally be read as a stand-alone fic.

Keep reading

[highlady-sorcha]

Honey (Cassian)

Hey Guys! This is just something sweet, because I think Cassian would be the best girl dad out there. 

*************************************************************************************************

The war camps were as grim as ever. Snow fell in thick, unrelenting blasts from low woolen clouds. So heavy, that Cassian could only see a few feet in front of him at a time. He ground his teeth against the icy wind that ripped at his skin, numbing the tops of his cheeks, the tip of his nose. 

Not an hour ago, he’d been tucked into his bed at the house of wind. His mate had been stark naked, curled against his belly and a fire roared in their hearth as the ice clattered against he windows. Their daughters had been snug in their own beds down the hall, the house depositing mugs of hot peppermint tea on their nightstands for them to sip on when they woke up in their favorite flannel jammies. Life was good, and Cassian had not had a care in the world. 

Then a note had appeared on his bedside table from Rhys. Saying that despite the historic weather, goddamn Devlon, warlord of the Windhaven Illyrian war camp, had the females out training. Rhys had specified that the females were to train every single day, without fail. It of course went without saying to any normal mind, that meant on the days that were suited to training. But, no one could beat the Illyrians at a game of malicious compliance. 

Baring his teeth, he trudged through the camp, past clusters of tents ringed around fire pits that had been kept blazing through the night, despite the cold and snow and wind. No doubt because of the dedication of the females that now sparred in the ring, having already been up all night. 

Cassian could hear the shrieks and thumps of wood swords before he saw the ring. Devon’s commands were muffled in the snow, but his voice boomed across the barren landscape nonetheless. 

“Get her down! What have I told you about using that gods damned sword before? If you want to train like a male, act like one! Walk it off and get out of my sight!” He bellowed. 

Cassian growled as he reached the edge of the ring, opposite the one Devlon stood on. Two females were in the ring, both so thin he was surprised they could stand, shivering so hard he wouldn’t have blamed them if they curled up and refused to move. Not to mention, the females were stark naked, the skin painfully red where wooden blades had struck their bare flesh. The tips of their fingers were nearly purple. 

Rage nearly set Cassian on fire. In this day and age, after all the work that he and Rhysand had done with these.. these savages, Devlon had the nerve to pull a stunt like this?

“What the hell is going on here?!” Cassian barked, striding into the ring. 

The two women feebly sparring with wooden practice swords balked at his giant form, immediately dropping their weapons and scrambling back. Cassian’s heart ached for the females as they tried to cover themselves from his sight with numb hands. 

He purposefully did his best to not look at the females gathered on one side of the ring, waiting their turn. The general would not subject them to any more attention in their vulnerable states than he was sure they had already gotten. 

He marched up to Devlon, who was bundled warmly inside fur lined leathers and a cloak that danced behind him in the wind. Cassian got in the warlord’s face, baring his teeth. Red light danced over Devon’s wicked face as Cassian’s siphons blared with barely contained power. The general could smite this prick on the spot, it was only the potential need of Illyrian forces in case of coming war that kept him from doing so. 

“Why are they out here?” Cassian hissed through his teeth.

Devlon smirked. “You and your High Lord said that the females of the camp were to train every day, so here we are.” He replied evenly. 

Cassian growled. “You know that we meant they were to follow the same type of training as the males. If the weather is not suitable for the males to be out training, it’s not suitable for the females.” 

Devlon shrugged. Still smirking, he shoved his hands in his pockets. Cassian could have sworn there was a flicker of apprehension, maybe something like regret in the warlord’s eyes. 

“You never bothered to specify, so here we are.” 

Cassian barely leashed in his temper. “And why, pray tell, are they naked?” He ground out.

The few males gathered around Devlon laughed cruelly. Cassian fixed them with a glare.  Devlon’s cronies had always been just as sick as him, but never as brave. Sure enough, one, a tall skinny male with his head shaved nearly bare took a step back. 

“Because, general, the females need to know the full extent of the power they’re wielding. What better way than to face the elements and weapons with no protection whatsoever. Show them first hand how much power creeps beneath that skin, and what a waste it is in a female who is too cowardly to even face the winter chill.” Devlon replied coolly.  

Several moments later, after arguments and threats had been exchanged, the warlord gave up, spitting that this meant nothing, and that if the females were that important to Cassian, he could deal with them. 

Devlon turned on his heal and marched away with his posse in tow. Not a moment later, Rhys and Azriel appeared by his side. Both were bundled into leathers with thick coats over their suits. 

“Gods..” Rhys hissed. “What was the idea here?” 

Cassian snorted, turning to the females huddled in the blinding snow. Both the High Lord and shadowsinger’s arms were laden with mounds of thick blankets. 

“I’ll tell you later. We need to get these females inside. Pass out blankets, and send them to Rhys’ mother’s house.”

Cassian hesitated for a moment, realizing he’d given orders to his High Lord. In other courts, he might have been torn to shreds for that. The High Lord of the Night Court nodded sharply, agreeing. 

“The door will be unlocked. It’s small, of course, but better than being out here or in some tent.” Rhys said. 

Softening his posture, and willing a reassuring, if not kind smile to his face, Cassian approached the huddled females. Carefully, he flicked his gaze between the sets of dark eyes that stared at him- never letting his eyes dip lower. 

He explained what they were going to do, and after a brief pause, the first woman nervously stepped out of the crowd. She didn’t look up at Rhysand as he offered her a thick gray blanket and pointed her towards the small house. He smiled warmly, although the female ignored it, putting her head down and trudging towards the tiny building. 

Female after female followed her. All silent, all ashamed as they took offered blankets and wrapped around their shoulders, some over their heads and marched away. 

Finally, only one female huddled in the white drifts. She was curled into herself, her knees tucked to her chest, her head down. Cassian called to her, but she didn’t move. The wind screamed down from the peaks of the Illyrian mountains, and it didn’t surprise him that the lonely figure didn’t respond. 

He grumbled to Azriel and Rhys to go to the house and organize a way to find clothes for the women, send them back to their homes and figure out what to do with Devlon. 

The two males nodded in agreement, and turned, trudging towards the house they had grown up in. Cassian felt guilty making them do the difficult part- but that was above his pay grade anyways. 

A particularly rough gale ripped across the ring as Cassian jogged over to the crouched female. He blew a hot breath into his hands as he reached her, a blanket draped over his fore arm. 

The general draped the blanket over her hunched back, and knelt to put a hand on her shoulder. 

“Ma’am, Devlon’s gone, you don’t-“ The stillness underneath his fingers stopped Cassian’s heart. 

Trying his best to preserve her modestly, Cassian gripped the woman’s shoulder and through the thick blanket, scooped a hand under her belly and rolled her onto her back. She was like touching stone. No part of her yielded to his hands, no warmth, no life. Her body kept its’ form, hands and knees now pointed to the sky. Her brown eyes were crusted with snow, wide open. The skin on her lips was a true blue, her face blanched the color of clotted cream. 

Cassian’s heart clenched painfully. The female was dead, had been dead. Here he’d been grumbling about leaving his bed, Nesta, and their girls, while this female had frozen to death. Naked, in the ice and snow. 

At first, rage burned and rippled through Cassian so intensely, that all he could think about was hunting Devlon down, and ripping his entrails out while he watched before strangling him with them. But then, his instincts as a mate and father took over. This was someone’s daughter. Someone’s sister. Maybe someone’s mate or mother. For a heartbeat, it wasn’t the strange female lying in the snow, it was Nesta. Prone, helpless, gone from this world. Only her remains left to the mercy of whoever showed any kindness to care for them. As Cassian stared at the female, his mind shifted her face. The body was that of his older Daughter, Lucellen, fiery just like her mother, but still only a child. Then it was his baby, little Miretta. The gentle, shy flower child that fed rabbits in the backyard from her hands. 

Hot tears sparked on his lashes, and he couldn’t swallow past the lump in his throat as he carefully wrapped the female in the blanket and scooped her up. Even if she had no one left in this world that loved her, he owed it to his females to see that she was afforded some measure of love and respect. 

Outside the tiny house, Cassian paused. Rhys, I need you to come outside. Just for a second. He flashed Rhysand a mental image of the woman’s frozen face, and the door opened immediately. The High Lord slipped out into the burgeoning morning. 

“She’s dead?” He asked. Cassian just nodded.

Rhys looked down at the bundle in his general’s arms, and Cassian could see the thoughts dancing across his face, even if they weren’t ones he shared. They were much the same as had plagued Cassian moments ago. Only in the High Lord’s, it was Feyre instead of Nesta, his son instead of Cassian’s girls. 

Rhys swallowed after a moment. “Who was she? Any idea?”

Cassian shook his head again, holding the female tight. 

Silence lapsed again, before Rhysand finally declared; “Go and bury her. She deserves that much. Don’t let her sit around above ground until the thaw, don’t let anyone else see what happened to her- these females deserve more than that terror. I’ll poke around, see what family she had.” Rhys’ voice was rough, nearly unemotional in the way Cassian knew the Lord could be when things were overwhelming, but had to be dealt with. 

***

Hours later, Cassian trudged down from the shallow hills that sat at the foot of the mountains. So thickly wooded, the snow was shallower there, and he’d been able to dig a suitable grave. There, he had lowered the female into the hole, said a prayer to the mother, the cauldron, anyone out there for the safety of her soul. And that, in death, she might know warmth and love and mercy that she hadn’t been shown in life. He’d buried her quietly, tugging at the bond that tied him to Nesta, just to know she was safe and warm with their daughters. 

He flung the shovel at the wall of an equipment shed, where it clattered against the shoddily built wall before whumping into the snow that was now above Cassian’s knee. 

Cassian knocked at the door of Rhys’ mother’s house a second before stepping in. Just to announce his presence, so as to not surprise any of the females that might still be inside.

Surprisingly, the small sitting room was empty of people, except for his brothers. Azriel sat hunched by the window, staring out into the swirling snow. Rhysand sprawled on the stained, sagging sofa, his hands folded on his chest. The violet of his eyes was glazed over in the way that told Cassian he was speaking with Feyre, mind to mind.

Rhys’ vision cleared when the general walked in, unstrapping his siphons and throwing them on an end table as he collapsed into an arm chair. At first, none of the three spoke. What was there to say? Rhysand had undoubtedly told the spymaster what had come of the one female, where Cassian had been, what he was doing.

Finally, Cassian spoke. He had to break the silence, talk about what happened. The urge itched at the underside of his skin until he thought he might explode or erupt into a mass of flame. 

“Did you find out anything about the female?” He spoke into the silence. 

Azriel shuffled uncomfortably, his shadows closing in tighter around him. Rhys sighed, his gazed fixed on the ceiling.

“She had a mate and two children, a boy and a girl. Her parents are both dead. The mate has her son, they live together. It seems he put little value on his mate or daughter. They lived on the outskirts of camp in a tent together.” Rhys told him.

A daughter? The girl had lived alone in a tent with her mother, now that the mother is dead, what would become of her? Was she ok? 

Rhys seemed to anticipate all of the questions that raced through Cassian’s mind. 

“I poked around in a few minds, and found images of the tent. The girl was in there, alone. I took her, brought her here, she’s upstairs in bed.” Rhys flicked a hand towards the loft. 

Sure enough, when Cassian scented the air, he picked up a faint whiff of sheer terror, exhaustion. Hunger and grief. So potent that it pained him to have come from a child. As silence fell at the end of Rhys’ words, he could detect the sound of gentle snores, and a sleeping child’s slow, deep breaths. 

“What’s going to happen to her? Will the father take her?” Cassian asked. 

Rhys shook his head. “I’ve already dealt with him. He won’t take the girl, wouldn’t even consider it. He said that she would ‘jeopardize’ his and his son’s training. The only thing he offered to do was ‘put her down.’” Rhys made air quotes around the last words, before letting his hands fall back to his chest. 

Cassian growled. Rhys had a son, Azriel had no children at all. There was a certain tenderness he felt towards his girls that he couldn’t imagine feeling towards a son. Not that he wouldn’t love a boy as dear as life itself, if Nesta ever gave him one. But, there was a divide between male and female that Cassian felt acutely with his daughters. They would have struggles and pains he had no concept of. They would live life in a distinctly different way than he had been given the opportunity to, and because of that, there was a certain reverence he gave them, and gentleness he felt he owed. They needed room to grow and blossom on their own, with his love and adoration as the water that fed those plants. To think of that little girl upstairs never having had that? Didn’t have a father to hold her after nightmares, tell her how beautiful she was, dance with her while she wore her mother’s shoes? It devastated him.

Cassian actually felt himself absently clutching at his heart. Before he could think about it, he stood and mumbled some excuse, before crawling up to the loft. 

***

The bed seemed an enormous island around the tiny lump in the very center. At first glance, the bed seemed empty. Like, maybe the lump in the center was just a pillow tucked under the covers or a wrinkle in the blanket. 

The only giveaway that a little Illyrian slept there was the tips of her folded wings peaking out near the pillow. The child’s soft snores were the only sound in the room, beyond the lashing snow outside. 

Cassian swallowed the lump in his throat and padded over to the side of the bed. As he sat, the child stirred. She poked her head out from beneath the blankets. Her tiny face was haloed by a tangled, matted mess of black curls. Cassian’s eyes met tiny dark ones that went so wide he could see the white that ringed their chocolate color all the way around. She squealed and ducked back beneath the blanket, pulling the covers up tightly over her head. The tang of her fear was so strong in nearly gagged the general.

He chewed his lip for a moment, briefly lost for words. His own daughters were never afraid of him. Maybe their mother from time to time, but never him. Lucellen and Miretta ran to him every time he came home, begging for hugs and kisses and telling him about their day. And to his nephew, Nyx, he was a best friend. Maybe Nyx was a little too old, too manly to run to uncle Cass for kisses anymore, but he was still the first person Nyx called when he had an idea for something stupid and reckless to do. 

It had been a long time since a child was genuinely afraid of the general, and he’d forgotten just how badly it stung. 

Cassian sighed and cleared his throat. Gently, he reached over and laid a hand on the small lump’s back, between the wings that were folded protectively around her. The child tensed so hard he was sure her muscles burned.

“I’m sorry,” he said softly. “I’m sorry today has been so hard. But we are not here to hurt you, or scare you.”

He might have imagined it, but the thin muscles beneath his fingers seemed to relax, just ever so slightly at his kind words. 

“My name is Cassian. I work for the High Lord. His name is Rhysand, he’s the guy with the purple eyes and big mouth. He’s kind of annoying sometimes, but he’s a great guy. He’s a dad, he has a son that’s older than you, but he loves kids. You can call him Rhys, he won’t care. His mom took me into this very same house and decided to take care of me. I was an orphaned bas- child, too.” 

This time he knew he didn’t imagine it when the tiny back beneath his hand relaxed. When his girls were upset, sometimes they’d come for cuddles after they were supposed to be in bed, and they’s curl up on his lap and tell him what all was wrong. Lucellen, his oldest and only child with wings always seemed more comforted when he rubbed small circles between her wings with his thumb.

So, that’s what he did with this girl. 

“And the other guy? The big ugly one with the blue siphons?” He heard Rhys sort, Azriel grumble something from the sitting room below. “His name is Azriel. He’s a little freaky because of all the shadows always around him, they look kinda like ghosts, but he’s probably the nicest out of all of us. He grew up here, too, just like Rhys and I. He’s been through some really hard times, too, and he had to be tough so much it just got his face stuck like that. He’s ugly, but nice.” 

Was that a giggle from beneath the blankets? 

Cassian bit his lip, almost embarrassed at how badly he wanted this child to like him. 

“We’re all here for you kiddo. But, we aren’t going to make you do anything you don’t want to do. When you want to talk, we’re happy to listen. If there’s somewhere you want to go, someone you want to stay with now that your mother is… gone. Just tell us when you’re ready. We’re all downstairs, and happy to listen.”

He paused for a moment, giving the little girl a chance to speak up. She didn’t. Cassian bit back his disappointment and patted her on the back briefly before leaving the room, heading back to his brothers.

***

The brothers spent the rest of their day trying to figure out if this child had any other family, or if the mother had friends that would take her. As the sun set and a messenger rapped on the door, Rhys answered it. He took the slip of paper from the male and without a thank you, shut the door in his face. It had snowed so heavily all day it was hardly safe to fly, and the males had wordlessly agreed to find this child a place to go.

Rhys leaned against the door and sighed as he read the missive. After, he crumbled it up and threw it into the waste basket as oil lamps and candles around the room flickered to life. 

“No luck?” Cassian asked. 

Rhys shook his head, running a frustrated hand up through his hair. His short locks nearly stood on end.

“No, and that was the last person I could find record of even being related to her and her mother. And that was a third cousin. Everyone is too busy, too poor or just won’t take a girl. The only one that would is an uncle on the father’s side who we’ve visited before for clipping the wings of his six daughters.”

Azriel hissed at that. “Well, obviously she can’t go with him.” 

Rhys shook his head, letting his hands fall to his sides. “No of course not.” He rounded the back of the armchair that Cassian sat in and flopped down onto the end of the sofa opposite Azriel. 

Night fell, and all three males agreed that it was too late to try getting home, even though the snow had started to let up. They found changes of clothes stashed in a drawer that they kept here for situations like this where they got stuck at the camp overnight. 

Cassian slipped into his sweatpants and t shirt, and sighed. At least his girls were safe at home. All three of them. Nesta would be shepherding the little ones to bed. Miretta would probably find her in the personal library at the House of Wind, and demand a story at least once. Then, when she was asleep, Nesta would carry her back to bed. 

Most evenings he and his mate sat up late into the night in the library. Sometimes they read, Nesta interrupting him from time to time so she could read him aloud a particularly graphic passage from one of her novels. Other times they talked late into the night, about good things and bad. The general’s thoughts shifted to the female he’d laid to rest today, and he found anew how grateful he was for his ladies. 

Night wore on, and eventually Azriel fell asleep on the couch. He snored loudly, curling into himself. Rhys threw a blanket over him and grumbled that he was tired, and going to bed. At the back of the house, behind the tiny kitchen and table was the room where Rhys’ mother had slept, allowing the boys the best quarters. The High Lord shuffled back there in his drawstring pants and bare feet, mumbling a good night before shutting the door. 

Cassian had just begun to doze in the arm chair before the crackling fire when small foot steps pattered against the scuffed wood floor. 

A small smile curved his lips, but he kept his eyes closed, pretending to still be asleep so the girl could explore as she pleased. He tracked the sound of her footsteps until they stopped right beside the arm of his chair. The girl’s small heart beat wildly, and he could taste the fear that rolled off her in thick waves. 

Then, a tiny finger tapped his forearm, right above his wrist. “Mister- mister Cassian, sir?” Asked a tremulous voice. 

Slowly, Cassian opened his eyes and looked down at the girl. He wanted to scoop her up and feed her a meal, then give her a bath and never let her go. The tiny, wasted figure before him broke his heart entirely. Beneath her chocolate eyes were purple rings so dark that he knew she’d missed more than one night’s sleep. Her thin shift was stained and ragged, but he could see the painful poke of her shoulders from beneath it, and knew that her ribs might be played like a marimba. Her hair was not only a mess, but sticks and small pieces of things were snarled in her locks. She chewed at one tiny chapped lip. 

He smiled warmly, and shifted his body towards her, opening his crossed arms and allowing his hands to rest in his lap. 

“Hey there, what can I do for you?” He asked. 

The girl chewed her lip harder, she twisted her hands with their dirty fingernails in front of her. Nervous energy radiated off her skin.

“If you wouldn’t mind, sir, if it’s not a trouble, I’m a bit hungry.” She told him in a voice too small for her. 

Cassian nodded, still smiling. “It’s no trouble honey, I’m sure you are hungry. We had dinner earlier but didn’t want to bother you, you were so sound asleep.” He nodded towards the small kitchen. “I’m sure there’s something in there we can find. What do you like?” Cassian asked, rising from the chair. He drew himself to his full height slowly. He was aware of how intimidating he could be to grown males, much less malnourished children. 

The girl shook her head quickly, sending a leaf drifting to the floor as it freed itself from her locks. “Anything is fine sir. If you have some crackers or bread-“ 

Cassian waved her words away, stepping around her. “We have those, but you’re better than that. Let me make you something I make for my girls at home. They love it, anytime I’m home for lunch I make some of these sandwiches and we eat them on the roof.” 

He pulled bread from the cabinet, butter and cheese from the cold chest. Setting a pan on the stove and lighting it, he lobbed off a pad of butter and let it start to melt in the skillet. 

The rich nutty scent drew the girl closer until she stood beside the male, peering into the pan on the stove. Her eyes were wide, but not alarmed. She was just curious, focused. 

Cassian carefully sliced four pieces of bread, because if he was making grilled cheese, he was certainly going to have one too. He buttered them, too and was just about to lay two slices in the skillet when the girl spoke.

“You have a daughter?” She asked, timidly.

Cassian smiled down at her, feeling his heart warm. He never missed a chance to talk about his girls. “Absolutely, I do. Lucellen is older, she’s probably about your age, and then my Miretta, she’s younger. Lucellen loves to laugh, she runs and plays, and has wings like you. She’s just as spitfire as her mom. Miretta is quieter. She’s a great artist and loves animals. Just as fun, you just have to know how to play with her. 

The buttered bread sizzled in the skillet, and Cassian sliced off a few hunks of cheese. The girl’s eyes glimmered hungrily at the sight. He noticed, and cut off an extra bit, handing it to her. Wide brown eyes looked up at him, searching his face for any sign of this being a trick before taking it from him, nibbling it a bit at a time. 

“What’s their mom like?” She asked between bites. 

Cassian laid the tops of the sandwiches on. “She’s my mate, she’s high fae, not illyrian, but you would love her. Anyone would. She’s a little shy at first, but Nesta is the best mother in the world. She loves to read and run around with the kids, she’s a terrible cook, but she’s one of the Valkyrie, so I guess that makes up for it.” He flashed the girl a toothy smile. 

“Your mate is one of the Valkyrie?” She asked, her voice full of awe. Pride swelled behind Cassian’s chest. 

“You bet, I trained her myself. Her, Emerie and Gwen completed the Illyrian blood right a few years ago. Got all the way to the top of the mountain.”

Cassian flipped the sandwiches, little bits of cheese escaped the bread and sizzled in the butter on the bottom of the skillet. 

“Wow…” the girl said softly. “Your mate is lady Nesta.” 

Cassian snorted. “Yes, but don’t call her lady anything. She might rip my-“ he glanced at the child. “My boy bits off.” He finished. 

The girl hid her face behind her hand, and giggled. “Mama heard about them, and told me all about them. She said one day she wanted to be one of the Valkyrie too, and I was going to come with her!” She said excitedly. The joy faded from her face like a candle that had water dumped over it when it occurred to her that her mother wouldn’t join the Valkyrie. Wouldn’t do anything ever again. 

She stayed quiet, munching on her cheese while Cassian finished the sandwiches. He found two mismatched plates in the cabinet and dumped one on each. After carefully cutting them in half- in triangles, not rectangles or Miretta wouldn’t eat it- he handed one plate to the little girl.

She held it reverently in her tiny, dirty hands and gaped at it.

“This is all mine?” She asked, looking up at him. 

“Of course, let’s go back to the sitting room. The snow is too pretty to miss this time of night.”

Cassian led the child back to the rug and pulled the drapes aside. Campfires still lit the night enough so they could watch the snow, falling more gently now. 

“You know, I never even asked your name.” Cassian said around a mouthful of cheese and bread. 

The girl shrugged her bony shoulders. “It doesn’t really matter, sir. Mama just called me honey a lot.”

Cassian’s brow furrowed. “But what did everyone else call you?”

The child carefully picked up a crumb that fell from her sandwich onto the rug, popping it in her mouth. Cassian tried not to cringe, imagining when exactly that rug had been cleaned last. 

The girl shook her head. “They didn’t call me anything. If someone needed me to do something, they just told me.” 

Cassian took another bite of his sandwich, finishing the first half. How could this child not have a name? How could she have been spoken to so little that she never considered it a problem that she had no idea what she was called. 

“How about I just call you Honey?” He asked, finally. 

The girl turned towards him, her mouth full of sandwich. She smiled around the mass of cheese and nodded. 

Cassian laughed. “Ok, Honey it is.” 

***

The general and little girl finished their sandwiches. Cassian set the plates to the side and began to tell stories of things that he and his brothers had done. As children and young men. Stories about Nesta, his daughters. Anything and everything. Honey warmed quickly, scooting closer to the general as the fire banked low in the hearth. 

“And then Azriel stepped in the vomit and slipped. He landed face down in it, and Rhys started laughing so hard I really thought he would pee himself.” He said laughing, telling her the story of the first time he and his brothers had tried to climb the ten thousand steps to the House of Wind. 

Honey laughed loudly, freely. Azriel had made himself scarce a long time ago, or he would have shushed her. “Mister Rhysand sounds really funny.” She said.

Cassian snorted. “He is, he’s just a pain in my butt sometimes.” 

Then, as he went to elaborate on that with a story where Rhys ended up getting hit in the nuts with a bag full of pebbles, Honey laid her head against the Illyrian’s arm. The mats in her hair were rough against even his skin, but he could feel her freer curls tickle down his arm. Her little wings were relaxed behind her, drooping to the floor. 

Cassian smiled, and reached around her, wrapping an arm around her and pulling her close. She snuggled into his side and sighed.

“Thank you for everything mister Cassian. You and your friends are very nice.” Honey told him, her voice shrouded with sleepiness a father recognized. 

He leaned down and pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “Don’t mention it. I would do the very same with my own daughters.” 

The girl was quiet for a long time. Her breathing became longer and more even. Rather than the terror that had rolled off her earlier in sickening waves, the fluffy, sweet scent of a content child perfumed around him. 

“I wish I was one of your daughters.” She murmured, when he thought her asleep. 

***

Rhys was the first one awake the next morning, after Cassian. He’d let Honey sleep against him until she grew restless and uncomfortable. In the late hours of the night, he’d scooped her up and settled them into the arm chair Cass liked best. He wrapped his wings around them, a warm blanket with it’s own heat. She’d slept through the night with her head on his chest, eventually pulling one thumb into her mouth. 

Dawn had come, the sun peaking over the horizon when Rhys’ bedroom door opened. He stretch languidly, like a fat cat after a nap in the sun. 

Cassian turned his head when Rhys walked to the sitting room, taking in the scene.

“Don’t look for a place to send her. I want her. Nesta and I will take her in.” He told his High Lord in low rumbling tones, so as to not wake his daughter.

[breathingsbooks]

Fenrys x Reader

You watched Rowan leap in between Aelin and Skull’s Bay, her eyes went wide. A heartbeat later she swung her arm away from him. Instincts bleating, you reacted, screaming for your men to MOVE. You lunged for the crew you had stationed near the young queen. The blast sounded, the shouting and splitting wood barely registered as you grabbed the nearest pirate and yanked him past you. The force of the eruption launched your body into the air.

You felt the searing pain in your leg before you hit the water. Your body tumbled in the chaos as you flung your arms around, trying to gain your bearings. You clenched your fists, the water around you steadied, allowing you to claw your way up to the surface. Fighting to get air in your lungs as you took in the destruction around you. Three Valg ships remained, and the Sea Dragon was reduced to rubble, floating on the waves. A breath of relief rushed out when you noticed most of your men survived, Rolfe hauling them onto Lysandra’s scaled back on the far side of the ruined ship.

A head of silver hair flashed in the corner of your eye. Rowan was cutting through the water, aiming for a reef not too far off. Remembering the sea wyverns, you swam for it too. Clamping your teeth on your lip as you paddled for the reef, the pain in your leg bellowed, slowing you down. The magic escaped your grasp as you tried to get the water to push you forward. Have you really run out already? It seemed too soon to be depleted, but this damn magic stuff was hard. You had to learn how to control it, clearly teaching yourself hasn’t worked.

Strong, calloused hands gripped your shoulder. “Grab on to me,” Gavriel, the lion shifter, on your left.

“I know how to swim, go help someone who needs it.” You ordered.

“You need it. You aren’t moving fast enough with that leg,” He pulled your arm around his shoulders, “Hold on.”

Pride stinging, you obeyed and held on to him as he swam toward his friend.

Rowan kept scanning the sea, even as he crouched to help pull you up onto the reef. Gavriel followed less than a moment later. You bit back a scream as you put weight on your leg. The sound broke free when you looked down to see a splinter of wood the size of your foot sticking out of your thigh. Rowan snapped his arms out to steady you as you teetered, his eyes never leaving the bay.

“I have to pull it out to heal it.” Gavriel’s calming but urgent tone drew your eyes away from the injury and to his tawny ones. You nodded.

Rowan muttered a thank you to the gods as he spotted Fenrys and Aelin making their way towards the reef, but still a ways out.

“Rowan,” He turned to the golden haired man at the firm tone. They stared at each other. Rowan’s chin dipped once, confirming something from their silent conversation. He wrapped one arm around your middle a heartbeat before Gavriel yanked the splinter out. The leg holding all your weight buckled, the prince behind you keeping you upright. The warrior in front of you gripped your thigh with his glowing hands, your blood coating them as he began to quickly heal your wound.

Adrenaline sparkled in your veins from the chaos. Aelin and Fenrys were swimming closer. The latter had been his magic to leap further, but they still weren’t close enough. Shifting your weight to your good leg, you tapped Rowan’s tattooed arm twice and told him to go. He dove into the water without hesitation and began swimming towards the female.

You squatted down to offer a hand and haul Aelin up. Gavriel’s grip on your thigh kept you from toppling over, though the pain surging in your thigh had black spots dancing in your vision. Rowan and Fenrys hauled themselves up, the prince immediately scanning Aelin for any injury. She waved him off with a hand.

Fenrys bent over, panting with his hands on his knees, and said to no one in particular, “I’m out.” Rowan gave him a single sharp nod.

“I’ll need to work on it again later, but you’re good for now,” Gavriel said as he rinsed his hands in the sea. You nodded your thanks and tested your weight on it. Still tender, you’d likely have a limp for a while, but not at risk of bleeding out. You’d take it.

Fenrys slowly straightened, his hands moving to support his lower back as he took a deep breath, “Don’t you have water magic? Shouldn’t you be able to heal yourself with the water and healing magic tendencies?”

“Pirates aren’t exactly flush with magic tutors. Self taught, and shit’s harder than it looks. For lack of a better term, water magic is slippery, I can’t get a good enough grip on it to control it like that.”

The male smirked and opened his mouth to reply but a loud crash and roar had everyone’s attention snapping to it. Lysandra was facing off against two sea wyverns.

After the shifter killed the two beasts, a collective stomach drop could almost be heard as three full grown sea wyverns came to avenge their young. Lysandra, Dorian and Aedion defeated them in the most incredible battle you had ever witnessed. Fenrys had to steady you with a hand on your elbow as the battle raged - your adrenaline ebbing, the pain in your leg became more prevalent. As soon as Lysandra headed towards the shore, your group on the reef dove for the beach. Aedion was already with Lysandra when you all arrived. Fenrys and Gavriel halted by the tree line while Aelin surged forward, the silver prince on her heels. You stopped somewhere in the middle, giving them space.

“What happened?” Aedion asked, eyes trained on his cousin, “What the hell happened out there?”

“I’d also like to know what the hell that was!” You echoed, limping closer.

“Now is not the time.” Rowan snapped, looking at both you and the general, his green eyes lingering on Aedion.

Your temper surged, “No? When would be the proper time for me to be angry about the lives of my men? Give me a timeframe, you godsdamn bastard!” The terror of the battle wearing off, giving way to your fury at what happened on that ship. Attempting to stomp through the sand to Aelin, your limp hindering the threat you tried to present.

Fenrys cut off your path with little effort and growled in warning, your blood reaching a boiling point at the sound.

Through your gritted teeth, you snarled right back, “Keep growling, dog, and your pelt will be the new rug in my cabin.”

“Enough.” Gavriel commanded, the growling ceased but your eyes stayed locked on the onyx ones. The shimmering you saw in them was enough to reignite the rage you were trying to stuff down.

You lunged at him, hands raised to wrap around his throat, but faltered when you had to balance on your bad leg. His hands that flung out to grip your wrists doing as much to hold you up as they did to keep your hands off his neck.

Wrenching them back, you turned back towards the scene on the beach.

“I’ll stay,” Aedion said. “You deal with Rolfe.”

Aelin and Rowan headed off to do as much, Aedion remained by the shifter’s side. You heard Gavriel offer to grab supplies and stay with them. Having no desire to hang around the awkward family reunion, you hobbled back to town.

Fenrys followed a few steps behind you, though he could have easily made it back to his lodgings without your pace slowing him down.

“I’m perfectly capable of walking back to town by myself,” You gritted, keeping your focus ahead of you.

“Oh I’m sure, but Gavriel will never let me hear the end of it if I left you to stumble home alone.”

“Leash a little tight, pup?”

He chuckled, “Another dog joke? I gave you too much credit, thinking you were far more clever than you clearly are.”

“Think of me often, do you?”

“Darling, I only think of you often enough to picture besting you when sparring, I delight in your anger.” The male now walking by your side.

“If you wanted to challenge me so badly, you could have just asked. I’d love the chance to filet you.” Your smile edged with distaste. “I’ll meet you at dawn in the courtyard.” You batted your lashes.

“Not unless you’re fully healed. It will be too easy with the injury, I want it to last longer than a minute.”

You chuckled, “Don’t have much experience holding out?”

Fenrys started just a fraction, blinking before a smirk grew on his face. “No complaints in my immortal, indulgent life.”

You rolled your eyes, sidestepping the glint in his eyes at the turn in conversation. “I’d argue that this injury would put us on equal footing.”

“You do realize I’m a fae warrior with over a hundred years of battle experience, right?” His golden brows rose.

You glanced sidelong at him, one brow cocked, “And I’m just a stupid little half-breed with less than ten years of training from pirates, right?”

“That’s not what I meant,” Fenrys blurted, halting and facing you.

You shrugged, “It’s ok, it’s more fun when you underestimate me anyway. Makes the victory even more…” You trailed off, turning your head to him. You cocked your head, akin to a predator assessing prey. Your purposefully half lidded eyes met his before sliding down to his lips. A subtle, almost subconscious darting of your tongue to the corner of your lips, delicately swiping just a little over your top lip. Driving it home with a hitch in your breath, gazing into his eyes again, you breathed, “Delicious.”

Fenrys stood impossibly still, but the smallest catch in his breath and the change in his scent gave it away.

You laughed and faced forward again, “Too easy.” You silently swore as your thigh burned, slowing your exit.

“Alright, I’ll concede that one. Looking forward to paying it back, honey,” He drawled, three strides putting him back on pace with you again.

“You’re gonna have to work a lot harder to gain my interest, mutt.”

Fenrys grinned. “Interest? No, I meant the upperhand.” You rolled your eyes.

A block and a half, a few more snide remarks and you stood in front of your meager lodgings. Barely more than a bedroom, bathing room and kitchen, but it served its purpose when you were in between sailings. If he had any thoughts on the building, Fenrys thankfully didn’t share them.

“Ok, you saw me home. Shoo,” You waved a hand at him.

He looked up at the second level window. “Can you manage the stairs?”

Eyes closed, you sighed, “I’ve done far more with far worse. Now leave.”

Fenrys shrugged, and walked away. He half turned his head, still walking, “Ocean Rose courtyard, an hour before dawn. Gavriel can fix up your leg before we start swinging.” You grunted and headed into the building. Prick.

[lavenderdreams22]

Only Yours - Fenrys x Fem!Reader

Request: Can you write spicy smut with reader x fenrys moonbeam? 😘 & Fenrys moonbeam fic? - Anonymous

A/N: Hello!! Thank you for requesting this. It's my first time writing and posting smut, so please go easy on me lol. I hope you enjoy!

Warnings: Cursing, Smut (18+, Minors DNI). Mentions of violence towards the beginning, and some male possessiveness.

You stood on the deck, watching the sparring match across from you, trying not to let the rocking of the boat make you nauseous. You were never one for long treks across the sea, but Fenrys had always had a way with words, especially where you were concerned, and it didn't take long for him to convince you. He wanted you close to him, and ever since you had realized that the bond between you was stronger than just shared trauma, you were inclined to agree. Being closer to him made you feel whole and safe. Not to mention that any time he was away, you barely slept at all. You would sit up all night worrying about him, wondering if he was in any kind of trouble. 

“What’s got you so tense?” Aelin asked, bumping you with her shoulder. 

“Not a fan of boats.” You mumbled, “Trying not to be sick.” 

“Ah.” She nodded, following your gaze to a half naked Fenrys and Gavriel, who were now circling each other, looking for an opening. “What could have made you decide to join us?”

You glanced over at her, and were met with a knowing smirk. You rolled your eyes, but a smile crept onto your lips anyway. 

“Fenrys asked really nicely.” You shot Aelin a wink, “And who am I to deny him what he wants?” 

“Such a good mate you are.” She cooed. “We all know you deny him nothing. The walls are very thin.” 

“I could say the same for you and Rowan, your majesty.” 

The two of you grinned at each other for a moment, causing Aedion to pause as he passed. 

“Should I be worried about another brawl starting over here, as well?” He asked, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Nothing to worry about, Aedion.” Aelin waved him off, “We are just talking this time.” 

Aelin had taken a liking to you for many reasons, but the biggest was because of your proficiency with a blade. You had been training since you were very young, and when Fenrys had brought you over from Doranelle, the two of you had immediately clicked. Well, the two of you immediately fought, and then, eventually, you clicked. It seemed as though you were either laughing together or at each other’s throats. It definitely kept all of your friends, new and old, on their toes as they tried to navigate your dynamic. 

Aedion only nodded, both to you and his Queen, and as a signal to the other side of the ship that everything was okay. With a quick glance up, you realized that Fenrys and Gavriel had stopped fighting, and were now watching you and Aelin. Rowan, though in Hawk form, watched from atop one of the sails. You could practically see the humor lighting his eyes from here.

You shot Fenrys a smile that you hoped said “everything is fine, my love”. He only nodded in return, something flickering in his eyes before turning back to Gavriel. With a nod, the two returned to their circling.

“Territorial Fae bastards.” Aelin muttered, and you giggled together as she threw her arm over your shoulder and led you to the side of the ship, “Let’s talk over here. Just in case you get sick.” 

*****

“You should have seen the way they were all watching the two of you.” Fenrys chuckled, shooting you a look over his shoulder as he pulled his boots off.

“Too much testosterone. We need to get more females aboard.” You rolled your eyes and crossed your arms over your chest. “As Aelin so fondly regards you all, Territorial Fae bastards.” 

“I’m sure the others wouldn’t argue about bringing more females.” Fenrys stood, crossing the room in two large steps. “But I'm not sure that anyone would agree that it was territorial bullshit. Not when it comes to the two of you. Do you not remember last summer?”

“Maybe then, they could stop ogling Aelin and me.” You smirked up at him as a possessive rage flitted across his eyes. “And how could I forget? We sunk the ship. Though, I think that was faulty construction.” 

“Hold on, who has been ogling you?” Fenrys asked through gritted teeth. 

“No one that interests me.” You shrugged, “It doesn’t matter.”

“It does matter, because I will kick their asses.” He said, pulling you flush against his body by your waist.

“So quick to resort to violence.” You scolded, humor still lighting your voice. “Why would you want to fight a friend when you could use that extra energy on something else?”

“What else could you possibly mean?” He asked as he began to move. His hand came to cradle the back of your head as he pushed you roughly against the wall. “I think that protecting your honor is the best use of my time.” 

His body was now caging you in, and your breath hitched in your throat as he pressed soft kisses down the column of your throat. 

“My honor is thoroughly protected.” You said, but your voice shook a bit, betraying your attempt at confidence. “Aelin is right, you are a territorial Fae bastard.”

He smirked against your skin, and your knees went weak, as they often did when Fenrys touched you like this. He spread your legs with one of his, pressing his thigh against your core through your skirt. You let out a sigh at the friction as he sucked at the place where your neck met your shoulder. 

“I have wanted nothing more than to have you like this all day.” He said, “Couldn’t wait to get back here so I could show you exactly how much I love you. And then, when I thought you and Aelin were going to fight… I wanted to throw you over my shoulder right then.”

“You should have.” You lifted your arms as he tugged your top off. “I am yours, Fenrys. Forever.”

He let out a low growl at that, the wolf in him finally paying you a visit. “Say that again.” His voice was rough, and a shiver ran down your spine.

“I am yours, Fenrys. Only yours. Forever.” You said, running your hands down his chest. 

He threw his head back and groaned, “You have no idea what you do to me.”

You ran your hands lower, palming him through his pants. “I think I have a pretty good idea.”

He pressed his forehead to yours, breathing in your scent. “Yeah, that’s definitely part of it.” 

“We better hurry, or we’ll be late for dinner.” Your voice was soft, but it held an edge of challenge.

“Screw dinner, I’m taking my time with you.” He hoisted you up, wrapping your legs around his waist as he pressed his lips to yours. 

The kiss was slow, your tongues exploring each other. You barely registered that he was moving until your back hit the mattress. His hands were roaming the exposed skin of your sides and stomach as his lips pressed to your neck. 

Reaching behind you, he unclasped your bra, tossing it to a corner of the room, and you were sure you’d curse him for it later. He always had a way of losing your undergarments. He pulled back a moment to look at you, and you resisted the urge to cover your chest with your arms. You always felt shy at this part, and no matter how many times the two of you had sex, he always made sure to admire you. 

“Gods, you are so beautiful.” His voice was barely above a whisper, and you smiled at him as he trailed a finger over your lips and cheeks.

“As are you, my love.” You moved your hands up his thighs as you squirmed beneath him, and he grinned down at your hand, sentimentality gone in a blink of an eye.

“Need me to touch you, Y/N?” He asked, his eyes meeting yours once again.

“Yes, Fenrys. Need you to touch me.” You nodded.

He kissed each collar bone then, trailing kisses until he reached your breasts. He took a few moments with each one, sucking and biting at one nipple, squeezing the other between two fingers before switching. His other hand trailed down to your skirt, hiking it up to your waist so that his hands could roam the expanse of your thighs.

With each moan he pulled from your lips, his hand trailed a bit higher, and you could feel your arousal pooling in your panties. When his hand finally reached where you needed him most, he traced tantalizing circles over your clit through the fabric of your panties. 

“Already so wet for me, baby?” He asked, pulling away from your breasts to meet your eyes. “Do you like that?” 

You looked down at him through your lashes, nodding slightly. Your mouth parted and a blush dusting your cheeks. His grip on your breast tightened, only slightly, but you sighed. His eyes darkened as he watched your face, his fingers dipping below your panties, trailing his finger through your slick before turning his attention to your clit once again. You ground your hips down onto his fingers, biting your lip as you kept eye contact.

“Answer me, baby. Do you like that?” He asked again, slowing the movement of his fingers.

“Yes, Fenrys. I love it.” You replied, “I love you.”

“I love you, pretty girl.” He gave you a grin that sent heat straight to your core, and he started kissing your stomach as he continued teasing your clit with his fingers. Pulling your panties to the side, he watched you before he dipped his head down, letting his tongue trail over your abdomen before he finally let his tongue circle your clit. 

“Fuck, that feels so good.” You moaned. 

He returned your moan with a quick bite to the inside of your thigh, marking you, before returning your attention to your clit. His fingers moved to your entrance, pushing in slowly. Your back arched off of the mattress at the feeling of his finger moving inside of you. 

Fenrys always knew exactly what you needed without you ever having to tell him. When you started to grind your hips into his face, he entered another finger, never removing his lips from you. He curled his fingers inside of you, hitting the spot that had you seeing stars, and you cried out his name.

A white hot tension began to build in your stomach, and you moved your hips faster, chasing your high. 

“You’re close.” He said. It wasn’t a question but you nodded in response anyway. “Cum for me, beautiful.” He returned to licking and sucking at your clit until the tension in your stomach snapped and you were cumming on his fingers. 

Once the aftershocks of your orgasm dissipated, you flipped him onto his back. You stood, pulling your skirt and panties off and throwing them onto the floor. He watched you, his hands behind his head. You pulled his pants off, and pressed kisses to his thighs. He slowly brushed your hair out of your face, collecting it into a messy ponytail at the back of your head as you made your way up his body.

With one quick movement, you took all of him into your throat, gagging a little bit on his length. 

“Fuck, Y/N.” He groaned, throwing his head back. “Can’t do this for long, I want to finish inside of you.” 

You grabbed hold of the base of his cock, running your tongue up the length of him as he gripped the sheets. You wrapped your lips around him again, bobbing your head a few more times before you pulled away. He sighed at the loss of contact. 

“Don’t worry, I’m not going too far.” You smiled down at him as you moved to straddle his waist. He grabbed hold of your hips, helping you to grind down onto him. 

“You want to be inside of me that badly?” You cooed, reaching down and lining him up with your entrance.

“Fuck,” He groaned, his body going tense as he tried not to thrust up into you.

“Tell me what you want, my love.” You sunk down a little, letting the tip slip inside of you.

“Stop teasing me, Y/N.” He growled. 

“Then tell me what it is that you want.” You pulled yourself off of him again, and he mustered up his best glare.

“I want that pretty little pussy of yours wrapped around me.” He ground out, his voice hoarse. “I want to fuck you.” 

“What’s the magic word?” You sunk down again, this time letting a couple of inches of him inside of you.

“Please?” He was starting to lose his patience. The thought excited you.

“Please, what?” You asked, pulling him out of you again.

“For the love of…” He was moving in a moment, throwing you back on the bed. Your body bounced for a moment, and then he was hovering over you again. You giggled at the simmering frustration in his eyes. 

“You are so fucking beautiful.” He pressed a kiss to your lips. “No more teasing.” He licked the side of your neck before eyeing you for a moment, waiting for your consent. Always the gentleman.

“Please, Fenrys. Fuck me.” 

That was all he needed to hear. A noise between a whine and a growl fell from his lips, and then he was pumping himself a few times as he lined up with your entrance. 

“You ready, baby?” He asked.

When you nodded, he sunk into you. You clung to him as a satisfied moan left your lips. He leaned forward, kissing your forehead and cheeks before you nodded to him again, signaling him to move.

He pulled out a bit, bringing your legs up to rest on his shoulders as he snapped his hips into yours. 

“Gods, you are so fucking perfect.” He grunted out, each word accentuated by another thrust into you. 

His dick hit your g-spot perfectly, causing your mouth to open in a silent cry, and your legs to shake. He reaches down to circle your clit again, hoping to draw another orgasm out of you before he finishes. He resists the urge to pin your hands above your head the way he normally did because the way that your hands were grabbing at his arms and chest, the way your nails were marking him, only brought his release closer and closer. 

You gasp, shuddering underneath him. Your eyes screw shut as you feel the coil tighten inside of you again. 

“Want to finish with you.” You gasp out. 

He groans, but speeds up his thrusts, your pussy squeezing him in the best way. He is always so amazed at how incredible you feel. 

A few more thrusts and you’re both coming undone. He collapses on top of you, his cock twitched with his release inside of you as your body shudders with your own. 

“That was the best sex we have ever had.” He said, rolling off of you. 

You whimpered at the loss of contact, but he pulled you into his chest, kissing the crown of your head.

“You say that every time.” You giggled, “We should get ready to go to dinner.” You whispered, pressing a kiss to his chest.

“In a few minutes.” He pulled the blanket over the two of you, his eyes fluttering closed. “Wanna just be with you for a minute.”

You smiled, cuddling into his side. He was right, dinner could wait. As his fingers traced shapes onto your bare hip, you drifted off into a peaceful sleep. You weren’t that hungry anyway.