I’ll Keep You Safe // A Stiles Stilinski AU

Collab with @sarcasticallystilinski

Prompt: What if you had a countdown on your arm telling you exactly who you’re going to lose next?

Relationship: Stiles Stilinski x Reader

Warnings: NSFW, Explicit Sexual Content, Smut, Oral (Male on Female), Virginity Loss, Skinny Dipping, Swearing, and So much fucking angst. Make sure you have tissues ready. 

Word Count: 12,271 

Song: I’ll Keep You Safe by Sleeping At Last

A/N: This is without a doubt one of the best fics Hayley and I have ever written. Not just as a collab, but amongst our own works as well. We are both so fucking in love with this story and I hope you guys love it as much as we do. Words cannot explain how amazing and beautiful this fic is to me.

If you are the kind of person who enjoys reading bubbly love stories with happy endings than I must advice you now that this story is not one of those. Because I am about to tell you the story of two lovers so addicted to each other and so connected to the other that they cheated death itself — only to be struck by another wave of agonizing tragedy instead.

Y/N Y/L/N and Stiles Stilinski were the two greatest lovers time and the universe have ever witnessed… and that drove them insane. Jealousy taking over both of their features, the universe did everything it could to separate the two until finally time found a vicious way to win. How could they have known a force so much stronger and so much darker than the incredible love they shared had begun to take over?

It didn’t matter how hard they tried to fight back nor how much they begged time for mercy, their destinies were already paved. All they could do was accept its path and believe in the quote life had beautifully taught them:

The greatest thing you’ll ever learn is just to love and be loved in return.

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Jieun’s Personality + theory on her purpose

So there’s a lot of buzz surrounding Jieun, her personality, and her ultimate fate after chapter 18. In terms of her potential death, it’s a huge probability she won’t live, there’s really no reason for her to stay alive much longer. Now what’s always interested me is how much of chapter 15 and 16 were dedicated to her background and even her own thoughts and internal dialogue. I don’t think Jieun will just be another unfortunate victim of Sangwoo.

A good portion of this post is going to be dedicated to taking a better look at Jieun’s personality in relation to Sangwoo, I won’t go into her treatment of Bum because that’s been hashed out tons of times by now. So there’s Sangwoo’s infamous speech about how she’s shallow and only into appearances, and while it was very intense and elaborate, I have plenty of reason to believe that he was wrong and only spoke so much to make a half assed justification for killing her. Let’s look at some parts of his dialogue:

So Sangwoo is the type of person to use any excuse to kill anyone, it doesn’t matter what they do. The first girl he killed because he felt she challenged his ego, Sangwoo said he killed the old man because he stuck his dick in his face, and now Jieun is about to die because he says she doesn’t deserve anyone for cursing people who don’t look good. It doesn’t matter to Sangwoo whether or not he’s wrong but, he’s kind of wrong.

This is our introduction to Jieun, the first impression of her is that she seems to be bored with being told she’s hot, it’s a reasonable assumption that she’s frequently told that she’s beautiful. She’s the kind of person that didn’t put much effort into anything because she’s never had to try. Things are handed to her for being so pretty, and it’s actually gotten old for her at this point

But then here she is, putting effort into her appearance, getting out of her way and actually trying to look good for Sangwoo. He is clearly special to her just by this small action. Although initially she wasn’t interested in him.

Here is more insight into Jieun’s mind and how she used to perceive Sangwoo, she wasn’t interested in his appearance, but they began to hang out more and she was swept away by the persona he created. When they were singing their duet, there was a montage of moments between them that she was reflecting on. It’s very clear she’s developed feelings for him, not based solely off of his looks, but because of how he treated her as well. Jieun gets flustered when Sangwoo says she’s pretty, not because of the compliment of being told she’s pretty, but because it’s coming from him. 

Now given that Jieun has had a decent amount of time dedicated to her personality, thoughts, and even some development, what does this mean for her purpose in the story? She’s been given more attention than Sangwoo’s other murder victims, it would be a waste if she was just killed and never heard from again. 

My personal belief is that Jieun will become a martyr of sorts, she has the ability to be the catalyst for Sangwoo being caught. Jieun is within his social circle, and Sangwoo was the last person she was in contact with. It wouldn’t take too much work to connect the two together (maybe her going missing would even bring back Seungbae into the plot). And if she did become the key to Sangwoo’s downfall, then that would almost be as satisfying as when she punched Sangwoo in the eye.


Ohio man Matthew Puccio murdered his girlfriend Jessica Rae Sacco in Ohio by stabbing and suffocating her.  He then dismembered her.  He told the police he did it after he found a text message she sent to someone talking about how she planned on killing him.

Her last words to Matthew Puccio were  “I still love you, and I forgive you.”

My sister being bitter about Stan’s neglect in IT (2017)

Her: Au where Stan is taken instead of Beverly and they forget to go back for him.

Her: everyone’s freaking out because Beverly said she saw all of them in her adult future vision but she probably just didn’t notice Stan wasn’t there cause they never noticed him anyway.


Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Chapter 13 Chapter 14 - Part 1 Chapter 14 - Part 2

A/N: You’ve heard the stories of Bucky and Natasha’s time training together when Bucky’s mind wasn’t his own. It was then that Bucky and Natasha formed an innocent friendship as you were told by them…but it wasn’t as innocent as they led you to believe.

It has been a few weeks since the whole revelation of your pregnancy, Bucky has been more attentive towards your needs along with spending hours on end with Tony and Bruce trying to figure out how Wanda was able to unlock your alter-ego. Wanda and Vision have gone on an excursion of sorts, travelling to the lands of the unknown to try and get some answers about her evolving powers. And Natasha has been overly protective of you, seeing to it that your needs are met, which is highly peculiar for her. Both her and Bucky are giving you more attention than you need or think you deserve and it’s becoming a bit suffocating, but you don’t say anything because you know they mean well.

The nights have been a bit chilly, so it was no surprise when I reached for Bucky instead of a blanket. I often teased him saying the only reason I am with him is to cuddle because of his body heat, which runs a few degrees hotter than most. I opened my eyes and noticed that his side of the bed was empty. I glanced over at the clock, it was a little after three in the morning.

“Nat we can’t keep meeting like this.” 

“Everyone is sleeping.” 

“It doesn’t matter, I have to get back to her.”

“I still love you, Bucky. When Wanda almost killed you I thought I had lost you.”

“Natasha, I’m not yours to lose. I’m hers, I’m completely and irrevocably in love with her. She’s the mother of my child and your best friend.”

“Don’t you think I know that?”

“What do you think this will do to her if she finds out?”

“Please, Bucky.” Nat says as she approaches him.

Her hands held his shoulders and I backed away as she leaned into him.

What did I just see? I thought as I crept slowly to bed.

A few hours later I rose out of a restless sleep I glanced and saw that his side of the bed was still untouched. He didn’t come to bed at all. I made my way to the kitchen and Bruce was sitting at the kitchen island having a cup of something dark and strong.

“Do you want me to pour you a cup?” He asked, placing the paper he was so enthralled in on the table. I shook my head and pointed to my belly, “oh, right.” He says. “How about a cup of tea instead?”

“Thank you.” I say sitting opposite him on the island. I watched his movements, slow but meticulous as he made a cup of tea and placed a plate with a boston cream donut in front of me.

“Good morning.” Nat sang as she made her way into the kitchen.

“Good morning.” Bruce automatically replied as he went back to his paper.

Nat poured herself a cup of coffee and took a bite of my donut, licking the creamy filling from her fingertips. And as if on cue Bucky came in from his morning run, his shirt sweat soaked and clinging to his body.

“Oh, Bucky.” Bruce says. “Can you meet me in the lab in about thirty minutes? Tony and I were discussing a theory last night and we want to test it out.”

“Yeah sure. Just let me change out of my clothes.”

“Yes, okay. No rush. I’ll set everything up.” He says lifting up the paper he was reading earlier.

Bruce pours himself another cup of coffee and exits the kitchen without a second glance. I observed Bucky and Nat, who were doing a poor job at being discreet about ignoring each other.

Bucky kisses me on the forehead, “good morning, doll.”

“Is there anything that I need to know?” I asked picking at my donut.

“About?” He asked as he reached for the coffee pot.

I gazed between him and Nat. “About how Natasha is still in love with you.”

You could pinpoint the moment the air escaped the room. I gripped my cup tightly until my knuckles whitened.

Bucky spoke first, “Doll, let me explain.”

“Yes, please do.”

“That kiss meant nothing.”

The air immediately left my lungs as the bile rose up my throat, “What kiss?”

Bucky knew then that he said more than he should have, he tried to approach me, but I shook my head as the tears filled my eyes. “How could you? I trust you.”

She approached me. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t.” I say. “You are in love with my boyfriend. You are supposed to be my best friend.”  


I grabbed the side of the counter and staggered out of the kitchen. “I-I can’t breathe.” I say as I made my way out of the kitchen and into the open air.  I felt their presences behind me, but it was all a blur. I opened the door and practically fell into Steve’s arms. 

“You don’t look well.”

“I can’t breathe.” I say as I pushed past him.

“Doll, let’s talk about this.”

I kept walking, Natasha was reaching for me, pleading with me, but I couldn’t believe the betrayal. I kept backing away not realizing how close I was to the edge until I felt myself free falling. There were commotions and screams, Steve’s shield whizzed past my head and then it was all silence and darkness.

“I’ve been here before.” I stated.

“Many times.” The familiar voice answers. “Should I be flattered that you remembered?”

He was warm and I found comfort in that. “Lo. I don’t want to go back.”

“There’s a child growing in you.”

I clung to him and he held me close to his chest.

I closed my eyes and felt the familiar tug of my bones as we disappeared into another realm.

[New Sides] Draco x Reader

A/N: My first published fic on Tumblr! It is currently 2:49 AM haha,,, I desperately wanted something to start my blog off so it’s not as good as it could’ve been, but still!

Word Cound: 1,742

Warnings: I think there is like one curse word? Hufflepuff Reader. Female pronouns. Has not been proof-read.

Summary: (Name) has a small clothing accident which leads to a flustered Draco and a sweet ending! (Will probably do a part two.)


There she was.

‘Bloody hell, how could someone be that perfect?’


Draco studied her, taking in her features from afar.

He had almost memorized her and the way she walked, the way she talked, the way she would get so lost in her own thoughts in class.

She would walk to the side closest to a wall alongside Neville Longbottom and her Hufflepuff friend Lynne. She would make small conversation and express small emotions. Very rarely would she draw attention to herself, her smiles being short and sweet and her laughs as delicate as a daisy petal.

She had a nervous twitch where she would play with her hair in some shape or form, twiddling it between her index finger and her thumb or curling it around a few times before brushing it out again.

She didn’t like rough flirting. He had figured that out immediately when Cormac approached (Name) and shot out some weird pick up lines, did the thing where he trapped her between two of his arms and backed her against a wall, and basically told her she had to go out on a date with him.

Her answer was obvious when all he received was a hard slap to the face and hard shove backwards.

They were partners in Potions once and Draco found himself staring at her constantly. She was so gentle, yet she knew how to stand up for herself.

He had learned so much about her just by studying her and seeing how she reacted to certain scenarios.

Draco, on the other hand, didn’t even try to approach her. He knew all it would end in was a rejection, and honestly he didn’t want his reputation damaged… No matter how infatuated he was with her.

Draco turned his attention from the Hufflepuff girl scurrying to catch up with her friends.

“… Did you hear me?” Blaise snapped his fingers in front of him, causing him to jump slightly.


“I asked what you were staring at.” Blaise stated, eyes narrowed. “A chick?”

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married life; shawn mendes

a/n: i’m sad because i’m European so i wrote this to keep myself from storming the MTV headquarters, enjoy! 

synopsis: it’s the master chief season final and Shawn and his wife are lifelong fans.

“Wait! Wait! don’t play it i’m coming!” she hollers, darting around the corner - dodging the breakfast bar by an inch - juggling a plastic bowl of crisps in one hand and two cans of diet coke shoved under her arm. 

There’s a packet of biscuits between her teeth and it bounces against her chin as she rounds into the living room, Shawn watching her from the sofa. 

He motions for her to hurry, saying “Come on!” as he holds the blanket open for her. It’s draped over his head and lap, the rest of the blanket left for her to snuggle into - once she’s reached the couch that is. 

Thursday night’s are Master chief night’s and tonight is the season final. 

It became a tradition when they started dating, having survived through four seasons of the show together - would be wrong to miss a week. Shawn would be lying if he said he wasn’t excited. 

She reaches the couch just as he clicks play. “I’m shitting myself Shawn to be honest” his wife goes, shoving the bowl onto the coffee table and handing him a can. She drops the biscuits onto the glass table, narrowly missing the remote and lit candle by a couple of panicked inches. 

“Derek’s gonna mess it up babe” Shawn goes, looking at the screen with a nod and she gives him a surprised look, having seen Derek’s performance improve. “Really?” she asks.
“Yeah, i can feel it” 

She gets under the blanket, pulling it over her head as she snuggles closer to Shawn. 

They’re cocooned in the blanket, the only sound the TV and small surprised gasps every now and again - sips of coke and reserved bites of the snacks, trying not to overpower the sound of Derek fucking up his couscous. 

“I’m sweating Shawn” she says, and she is, she’s fanning herself with the blanket and Shawn looks down at her, laughing. 

He glances over her features, contorted with panic at something she has no control over, and he’s pulled into them like he was when he’d first met her. 

This is the married life he’d dreamt of, enjoying each others company, and he’s about to tell her that he loves her, pepper her face in kisses, but she’s suddenly gasping going “How the fuck do you burn rice?!” with biscuit crumbs sputtering from between her lips. 

“He what?” Shawn suddenly breaks and he snaps his head to the TV, seeing Matt, the one they were rooting for, throwing his arms up in frustration as he stares at his blackened dish. “Fucking amateur, rice! rice?!” 

“I’m tweeting him” 

“Shawn, no”

“No, babe - he deserves to be publicly shamed” 

and while Shawn furiously types at his phone, his wife watches the television with bated breath while chewing at her finger nails. Shawn puts his phone down in a huff “He’s disappointed us”

“Wait, i think he might fix it”

“No, there’s no way Claudio is gonna let that slide. He burnt rice babe. Rice! and he wants to get the master chief trophy” and after Shawn let’s out a snort of pity, he lays back on the back of the sofa, sipping on his diet coke with furrowed brows and anger running through his veins. 

His wife carries on watching, itching at her elbow as Matt pours his marinade on the Mahi Mahi fillets. She turns to face him over her shoulder for a second, seeing him sulking with his arms crossed over his chest and teeth at his lip. 

“Babe, chill out” she says, raising a brow at him and he shakes his head. Instead of letting him sulk, she rolls her eyes and throws the rest of her biscuit at him and he dodges it quickly, sending her a surprised expression. 

He gasps “Did you just throw-” and he lunges for her, gripping her waist and dragging her into him.

Her back reaches his chest as she cackles, throwing her legs about while she tries to rip his hands from her stomach. “Shawn! stop!” she laughs, throwing her head back as he tickles her. “You threw your biscuit at me!” and just as she’s about to whip around and hit at his arm, he gasps at the TV. 

“He dropped his fillets!” 

anonymous asked:

Hey! I cannot help but wonder what top studied? Was he able to attend classes like a regular student tho? I imagine that it might be hard to concentrate and learn when probs even your prof is your fanboy lol

He majored in Theater and Film studies! Also as far as I know as long as his schedule permits he attended like a regular student. But you know, we are talking about the genes of a Choi it’s difficult for a man this tall and handsome gets unnoticed. No matter what he does even if he hides himself in a jacket and a mask people will still turn their heads for him.

Here are photos of him on his university (Note: This is not a photoshoot): 

I mean look at that stature look at that chest look at HIM.

And here’s this little bunny eating in the university cafeteria:

(comment from knetz: “Other people’s food probably got cold because they were too busy staring keke”)

I hope he learned in his class that Rude and Choi Seunghyun are synonymous. 

“You can tell he’s a celebrity no matter what he wears“ —I AGREE. THIS IS T H E LOOK. THE HAIR COLOR, THE SPECS AND HIS OUTFIT CAN U BELIEVE HE IS REAL.

and my personal favorite out of all the internet comments:

“I drink out of those cups too, but it looks like silver in his hands.”


anonymous asked:

There are non stop metas in Jon's tag about why J*nsa is endgame. Could you please explain why Jonerys is actually endgame? Just something to counter this irritating stream of J*nsa

Hi anon! I don’t think that people writing meta for their ship is irritating. But I do think Jonerys is endgame. My answer is under the cut because it is absolutely enormous. This took a lot of time but I hope it offers you some reassurance. 

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Experiment - Request

Requested by @newts-fan-case:  So could you do a Sherlock x Reader were she is riding his face? (Lol I’m a sinner but I ain’t sorry) like for an experiment ‘cause Sherlock thinks a person can’t get aroused just by giving pleasure to someone else, but he is wrong and yeah ;) 
& Anon:  Hi! Can I request a smut one shot with Sherlock where he wants to try have the reader sit on his face and eat her out and she’s shy & a bit self conscious with her body and he makes sure he makes her see Stars (with a little fkuff)? Thank you! 💞

Summary: ^^ That.

Pairing: Sherlock x reader.

Word count: 2,055

Warnings: Smut - face riding - and self-consciousness (just a little bit).

A/N: God bless the sinners.


“It just can’t be… It’s impossible…” Sherlock mumbled as he walked upstairs.

“What’s impossible?” (Y/N) inquired without looking up.

“Sherlock thinks a person can’t get aroused by giving pleasure to another.” Watson explained tiredly.

“Why would anyone get aroused if they’re not receiving the proper stimulation?” The consultant detective exclaimed.

“Because…” Watson sighed heavily, “I won’t explain it to you again. You have to live it to get it.”

Sherlock groaned and stormed to his room. John shared an annoyed glance with (Y/N) and left.

She was impressed that none of them asked why she was there, but then again, both knew she was very concerned about their current case, so maybe it wasn’t that weird. Therefore, she kept doing her research – in Sherlock’s computer – until he went out of his room.

“What are you doing here?” He inquired.

“Case.” She replied nonchalantly.

“Good.” He gulped and stood there awkwardly.

“Do you want me to leave?” She asked, still not looking up at him.

“No.” He said, “Actually I…”


“I want to do an experiment and I think you’ll be a great help.” He spoke quickly. If she didn’t know better, she would’ve sworn he was nervous.

“Sure, what is it? Head exploding? Eye-ball tea tasting?”

“No, none of that.” He interrupted. (Y/N) was ignoring him – she was too focused on the computer’s screen – which made it a lot harder for him to ask what he needed to ask.

“Then what is it?” She asked once more.

“It’s… Complicated.” She sighed heavily and looked at him for a second.

“Everything with you is complicated; I think I got used to it already.” And with that she turned to the computer again.

Sherlock took a deep breath before blurting out his request. “I need you to ride my face.”

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anonymous asked:

So I'm really needing some bughead multiple orgasms or denied orgasm smut and I'm blushing so hard as a read this 😳😳😳 the phrase "don't come" does crazy things to me...

Well hello anon! You’re blushing? You should see me after writing this haha

Sorry for the wait on this one! I hope this is sort of what you were after!

warnings: smut. smut. smut. sin. smut. more sin. more smut. I’m going to hell because smut. 

In the Night: 

It’s late; her room shrouded with darkness, the soft pinks and coordinated pastels disappearing into shades of black. Betty likes the nights. She likes the stillness outside her window, the insanity of the town fading away for a few hours as the people slept. The line drawn between the North and South sides of Riverdale ever so stark in the day, blurring into the cloak of ebony; still inherently there, but easier to ignore.  

But there was one thing about the nights that she liked far more than any of its rivals. And that thing was the dark haired boy that climbed through her window as the hours of late night morphed into early morning.

He would clamber through the frame sometimes with a charming smile on his lips and a light in his eyes, sometimes with a deep frown and a tense jaw. Sometimes he would find her with clenched fists and tear stained cheeks, other nights a playful smirk and a teasing comment. His beanie discarded, her hair down they would talk into the next day about school, movies, books and his new home, about civil wars and leather jackets, about well-established facades, jailed fathers, pregnant sisters, and struggling friends.

Sometimes they would lie comfortably on the bed, leaning into each other, subtle brushes of hands on skin or through hair. And other nights-nights like this one- their embraces were much more passionate, their intent far from innocent. On nights like this, they would muffle moans in pillows and necks; make the other writhe as they succumbed to the inferno they had built. Their eyes would meet heady and dark, a breath would hitch, a groan would resound, fingers reaching, filthy words whispered in ears. It was slow and sensual, hot and heavy, fast and passionate; an intricate push and pull of control.

Keep reading


More gunshots. Echoing through his teeth, his aching limbs, the pool of blood beside him.

Jamie Fraser watched condensation gather on the thatched roof, the lower half of his body a numb mass of pain, his slashed left hand still curled as if holding the talisman of Claire that was now gone.

Just like her.

“Who’s next?” A proper, clipped English voice.

Everything and nothing like Claire’s.

It took a thousand years to turn his head toward the cheery corporal scratching away in his book.

Such a farce – executing traitors in an orderly, honorable fashion after such an unorganized battle.

Gone. Claire, Murtagh – even the damn fool prince, marveling at a silver cup while his men died around him.

Rupert paced at his side. Whispering the Act of Contrition over and over in Gaelic.

An hour to prepare.

For what? He was already dead.

His teeth ran over dry lips, watching the next poor bastard march outside. The doorway darkened with redcoats…and then light poured through.


Too bright for sunlight –

Claire moaned.

His eyes adjusted – and there she was. Pregnant. Laying on some kind of elevated table, legs spread for the whole world – surrounded by men swaddled in white cloth. Masks covering their faces, like highwaymen.

Oh Christ –

“CLAIRE!” he screamed, throat tearing with hoarseness. “CLAIRE!”

“Don’t worry, Mrs. Randall – you won’t feel a thing.”

Impossible strength surged through his limbs, and he ran to her. “Claire!”

His hands passed through her shoulders.

One of the men circled around her – and walked right through him.

“And when you wake up,” he continued, speaking as if to a small child, “you’ll be a mother.”

Jamie walked right up to this man, this idiot – fists raised, kilt swishing behind.

“She *is* a mother, you bastard!”

“Wait…no…” Claire panted, voice rising in panic. “I don’t want to be put under!”

Put under what? Why were these men ignoring her? Why was she surrounded by men at all?

“What is wrong with you, you bastard?!” Jamie lunged but felt only air. “Stop! Stop!”

“Now now, Mrs. Randall – all is well.”

Jamie surged back to Claire – for all was clearly not well – her eyes wide with terror, her breath shallow, her brow shiny with sweat.

“Stop!” He pushed and kicked but to no avail. “Stop! Stop!”

“You needn’t worry your pretty little head about anything.”

Jamie whirled and punched the man in the face.

Felt nothing.

Brought forward by his own momentum, he crashed to the ground. Re-opened the wound on his leg.

“Please,” Claire pleaded. “Don’t tell me what I need…”

Jamie didn’t hear the rest of her words – consumed by the bone-deep need to protect her. Take her to a safe place.

Why was she all alone? Did she have no friends, no women to attend her? Damn Frank Randall for not being man enough to remain by her side! What he wouldn’t give to share this with her, take some of her pain away…

Jamie struggled to his knee, then his feet – blood pouring down his leg. Racing to Claire, desperate, arms ready to scoop her up.

He felt nothing.

A woman pushed a metal cylinder against Claire’s arm – and she screamed.

Jamie scrabbled at Claire – from above, from the side, from below.

Feeling only the hard, cool metal of the table.

“Stop it! No! Stop!”

Desperately flailing at the men and woman. Watching, powerless, as they lay a black mask over her face, and began to cut open her belly.

Blood. So much blood. Like in the Bois…

Claire jostled awake – screaming, cursing at the bloody stupid obstetrician.

Hay – and fresh Highland air – and


Moaning and pallid and barely alive, thrown like a sack of grain into the back of a wagon.

Memory flashed – Jamie wrapped in nothing but his plaid, jostling in the back of another wagon…


She struggled to sit up, then hovered over him, shaking his shoulder. Pressing her belly – their child – against him.

“Jamie! Wake up!”

Her fingers felt not the rough linen of his shirt, but the damp and sticky hay.


Gentle fingers on his filthy temples – but her healing hands passed right through him.

Her own hands shook in panic.

“Open your eyes! Look at me!”

His lips parted, just barely.

Claire glanced up – struck by the unspeakable beauty of the moors and mountains – focusing on the driver’s grimy back and greasy hair.

“You there! Stop! Stop the wagon!”

But she already knew he couldn’t hear her.

The wagon hit a particularly deep rut, and the wagon bed quickly bounced up and down. Jamie moaned. Blood oozed thickly from his leg.

“Jamie,” Claire sobbed, kissing his chin, smoothing back his hair, dabbing away the grime caked at the open neck of his shirt. “Jamie. Please hear me. *Please…*”

He shivered – from the cold, and the shock. Trying so hard to die.

So she curled around him – pressed their child against him – trying to save the life he clearly no longer wanted.

“Take me, Lord,” she whispered. “Take me, instead.”

Jamie coughed.

The baby kicked.

“Take me, Lord,” he rasped. “Kill those bastard doctors. Take me instead.”

So, that moment in episode 11, “Snuffnut”, where Hiccup and Astrid are talking to Tuff in the Clubhouse about Ruff and Throck? Welp, here’s a quick scene of what happened after Tuff left… ;) (This is for you @superfandomz :D)

The Very Near Future

Hiccup watched as Tuffnut shuffled out of the Clubhouse, Chicken waddling along behind him. The poor guy looked downcast, but with a slight bit of confidence in his step. No doubt he had a plan to put in motion.

But Hiccup’s mind was far away from that topic, for Astrid’s hands were still resting on his shoulders. Thor, he wished he didn’t have his stupid armor on, it would feel so much better without it. Her fingers rubbing a massage through his shirt and…

He gave a little grunt when her hands disappeared, and he couldn’t help the little pout of disappointment. Astrid missed the look though, for she sidestepped around him to slide onto the bench beside him.

Her fingers slipped into his hand, and he responded by gripping her hand lightly. He smiled at her, leaning in for a quick peck on the lips, pulling away with a sigh of contentment.

“You think Tuff will ever marry?” Astrid spoke, voice on a playful level. “Or perhaps he’ll marry Chicken?”

“Now that would be… interesting.” Hiccup chuckled. “But very much like Tuff.”

She hummed in agreement. “Makes you wonder what will happen to all of us, huh?”

Hiccup blushed warmly, thoughts wandering further then they probably should. “Ah… er, yes. Yeah…” 

“Like Fishlegs… maybe him and Heather? But somehow I can also see him with Ruff.” Astrid mused.

“What about poor ol’ Throck?” Hiccup reminded, finding it difficult to distract his mind from… ah, other matters.

Astrid smiled, “Him and Mala.” She said thoughtfully. “…And then… then there’s Snotlout. Will he ever find someone who can put up with his antics?”

Hiccup snorted and grinned, finding it to be an odd picture. Snotlout would have to find a very patient woman, or someone who just loved him enough to put up with the dufus no matter how mature he was. 

Silence fell for a few relaxing moments, and once again Hiccup’s mind wandered. That covered everyone in the gang… but what about him and Astrid? He thought about voicing his thoughts, but was hesitant… sure, they were betrothed… but…

“And then of course, there’s us.” Astrid murmured with a smirk. Hiccup’s heart rate picked up ten times the pace, and he prayed Astrid couldn’t hear it.

“Mhm… us…” He repeated, liking the sound of that one word rolling off his tongue. “Betrothed… to be…” he nearly coughed in his nervousness to say the word, “to be married.”

Astrid nodded in agreement, leaning further into Hiccup’s grasp. He wrapped both arms around her, hand clasping over hers as she leaned her back against his chest. 

“Hiccup,” her voice was quiet, sounding almost tired yet he could tell she was just shy about this certain topic- much as he was. “…do… would you like children?”

Hiccup nearly choked on his tongue. Did she just say what he thought she just said!?

Basically his exact thoughts!?

“I-I’m sorry…” Astrid rambled, trying to push herself away. “That was very straight forward I had no right to-”

“No, no, no…” Hiccup babbled, holding her close to keep her from escaping. “No… uh, I-I wanted to… ask you the same thing…” He admitted with a blush, ears turning scarlet. 

She relaxed, much to Hiccup’s relief. He didn’t wish to make her uncomfortable. 

He cleared his throat, wondering if he should continue or drop the conversation. But Odin, he really didn’t want it to just… end like that without any answers.

“…so..?” Hiccup asked in a whisper, half hoping she’d hear it and half hoping she wouldn’t. 

“So what?”

Darn it she heard. Was his last-minute thought. 

“So… kids? I mean… you know if we- get married and if everything’s secure and-” he found himself rambling nonsense, wishing he’d just shut the heck up but finding himself unable to. When he’s uncomfortable or shy, he tended to ramble and stutter at every turn. He thought he’d outgrown that, obviously not. 

“Hiccup!” Astrid interrupted, twisting around and placing a finger over his lips, causing his eyes to widen and his hearing to tune. “Uh… I… I would love to have some kids.” She whispered, face hesitant, a small smile faint on her lips. “…But… what about you?”

He swallowed thickly. “Dad would kill me if we didn’t.” he murmured sarcastically, hoping to lessen the awkwardness. He tweaked a smile, to which Astrid laughed and swatted his shoulder.

“So you want one just to please your Dad and give Berk an heir?”

That string of words scared him. Him… being chief. Him, being the father of the heir of Berk. All words that he thought wouldn’t happen until… years and decades. Yet, now he realized that it could all be so soon.

“No.” He whispered, shaking his head as he remembered the rest of her words. He wrapped his arms around her a bit tighter, giving her a small kiss on the cheek. “I’d love to have some kids. Imagine teaching them to ride dragons? Or teaching them to Blacksmith- and you could teach them about weaponry. And… uh… I’ll teach them to cook.” He added snarkily.

“Oh you…” She laughed, giving him another swat, this time on the head. She tilted her head, opening her mouth to say more but hesitated a second longer. Finally she murmured under her breath, “How many… do you… uh…”

“How many do you think you’d like?” Hiccup replied in question. In his mind, he was thinking a whole house full. As many kids as the gods blessed them with. But somehow he didn’t think Astrid would be up for that. She was independent, and having a bunch of kids ground her would probably kill her. Yet, he could so see her with children tagging behind her, little tykes dragging axes and weapons as they tried to be just like their mommy. Astrid would make a wonderful mother.

She snuggled against his chest, letting out a sigh. “I guess I never thought about it.” She murmured.

Hiccup smiled and pressed his lips against her hair, trailing kisses down to her ear and cheek, causing her to giggle. She twisted her head as he gave another kiss to her cheek, and she met him halfway with her lips.

“But that’s the future, we can worry about that after… things are figured out.” Hiccup reassured. “We have lots of time to think on it…” And with that, he kissed her again. 

A Softer Side (Nessian Fluff)

Decided to try and give Nessian a go after this popped into my head the other night. Set post-ACOWAR and is pure fluff.

Cassian had a special talent for pissing Nesta off; that much had been clear since the day they first met. But like so many of his talents – fighting, flying, even fucking – he truly enjoyed it, enjoyed riling Nesta up to the point she finally lost control of that cold and careful poise she shrouded herself in. Until her remarks weren’t just cutting in their accuracy, but fiery in their fervor. 

Cauldron damn him, he loved seeing Nesta like that, eyes alight in righteous anger, hair coming loose from the bun she’d wrangled it into hours earlier. He loved seeing her claws come out, that wicked mind of hers sharp even in anger. It was an intoxicating feeling, to be the one person most capable of making Nesta Archeron let go of her infamous ironclad control.

(It was the same in many aspects of their lives together as well – taking her to bed was sometimes like going to battle, a thing of both clever strategy and blind instinct. And, more often than not, he awoke the next morning feeling distinctly sore.)

Of course, there were downsides to getting Nesta annoyed at him. Namely, the fact that she’d started to relegate him to the couch downstairs, locking him from their bedroom. It wasn’t enough to keep him out, naturally – after all, the lock was but a flimsy thing and the windows of the bedroom were always open for him to fly in and out of… but Cassian would never force his way in. He might like to push Nesta out of her comfort zone, to make her bare that wonderfully fierce heart she so artfully hid away, but he would never want to do her any harm. He would never want to force something with her. Even the mere thought made him feel queasy.

So, when he went to their bedroom tonight only to find the door firmly shut, Cassian simply let out a sigh before trudging back downstairs. He should have expected this really, considering his pig-headed stubbornness had caused her to actually storm off earlier, wearing an utterly thunderous expression. But, in all honesty, Cassian couldn’t even remember what exactly he’d said to her to make her so angry. Nesta and he had been bickering most of the morning, full of biting comments. Perhaps something he said had hit to close to home. (Though, really, a part of Cassian had felt oddly vindicated that Nesta had been the one to run off and stew in her anger – it was usually him that had to walk away and cool down. Because, as much as Cassian had a talent for pissing Nesta off, she had just the same talent with him.)

(But Cassian wouldn’t change that for the world. Their relationship was as imperfect as relationships could get, but it was theirs.) 

Cassian tried his best to settle comfortably in the biggest couch they owned but unfortunately it wasn’t made for a full-sized (or over-sized, according to the Nesta) Illyrian male to be sleeping in. Eventually though, he managed to get some rest, knees slightly bent to accommodate his height while his left wing was slightly crushed against the backrest so he wouldn’t roll off in the middle of the night.

He was just drifting off again when he heard light footsteps head his way. A familiar, tantalizing scent filled the air. Cassian kept his eyes resolutely closed, even as the footsteps stopped right in front of the couch. Petty perhaps, but he was uncomfortable and she well knew it, being the very instrument of his current predicament.

Nesta hesitated at his side, her hand hovering over the bare skin of his shoulder. It was her obvious uncertainty that caused Cassian to finally open his eyes. Nesta was so rarely hesitant, certainly not when she wanted something from him. There were moments though, when her youth and inexperience shone through. Like now.

She was standing over him in complete stillness, though her entire frame spoke of just how tense she was. There were dark shadows under her eyes – the kind she only got when her sleep was plagued with nightmares. Her expression had lost the severe edges that covered it during the day; almost soft and yearning. She was silent as she watched him with hooded eyes, struggling to ask for what she wanted, needed.

But Cassian already knew.

Comfort. That’s what she wanted. Comfort.

Cassian couldn’t help but soften, then. (So many people forgot about the woman underneath the sharp words and armor. Even he was guilty of it sometimes. But he hoped to never turn away when she wordlessly asked for affection.)

Without another thought, he reached out to her, running his fingers down the soft skin of her arm until his hand could entangle with hers. Something like relief crossed her face. She allowed him to tug her closer and took his unspoken invitation to join him on the couch. She sat down next to him, laying half on top of him, pressing herself into his chest until his arms came to surround her.

Cassian shifted slightly, trying in vain to get them both to fit on the blasted couch. Nesta just sighed, muttering something about winged idiots, before getting back up – only to stretch one leg over him so she straddled him. She then once again settled herself against his chest, her body entirely covering his. (Well, as much as someone who stood nearly a foot shorter than him could cover him. Nesta was still a slight thing, despite the sheer presence she exuded.)

He felt her body relax over him, her forehead fitting perfectly into the crook of his neck, one hand tracing the pattern of his Illyrian tattoos while the other snuck between his arm and torso in a faux embrace. The fingers running down his chest paused momentarily on one of the many scars that littered him, before running even more softly, even more carefully, over that particular patch of damaged skin. The scar that Nesta was paying such close attention to was one he’d received during the war with Hybern and suddenly Cassian knew exactly what Nesta’s nightmares had been about.

Cassian’s arms tightened around Nesta. Cauldron, he would never regret battling against Hybern… but he would forever regret the terror that Nesta had experienced on his behalf. He hated to be the cause of her misery. Despite his own inner turmoil, he proceeded to stroke soothing circles down Nesta’s back, relieved to feel her relax further into him, all that tension melting away, terror giving way to peaceful comfort.

Cassian would be perfectly content to act as Nesta’s glorified pillow (or considering the size of him compared to her, glorified bed) for the rest of eternity, if only to help her through the nightmares that haunted her every step.

They breathed in tandem and he couldn’t help but turn his head to press a kiss into her hair. Nesta hummed at that, her breath tickling his throat. Normally having Nesta’s body so completely against his would lead to his favorite kind of sport, but this moment brought warmth of a different kind entirely. Cassian had never really understood craving this kind of innocent embrace until he met the woman in his arms.

“I think we might fit better upstairs,” he whispered after a long while, keenly aware of their precarious position even as he settled more deeply into the couch, shifting Nesta with him.

Her voice was endearingly sleepy. “Later. This is fine.”

Cassian couldn’t stop the breathy chuckle that escaped him, pressing another kiss to the top of her head. “As my mate commands,” he said.

The bond between them, the bond that had taken them so long to accept, that still amazed him every single day, went taut with approval and pleasure. And then it went quiet altogether as Nesta drifted off into a peaceful slumber. Cassian followed not too long after, though only allowing himself to close his eyes after her reached out to grab one of the thick, woolen blankets they kept in the sitting room, spreading it over them both. 

When he awoke the next morning, his body was completely numb, his legs painfully cramped… but his mate was still asleep on his chest, her fingers curled against the scar that caused her to seek him out in the first place. And Cassian found that there wasn’t anywhere else he’d rather be.

So he wrapped his hand around Nesta’s, holding it tight against his chest, and stayed as still as he could.

Lost Sanity - Bucky Barnes x Reader ((ANGST))

Originally posted by livvy1800

Summary: In which (Y/N) has lost her memory and her first love, Bucky Barnes, watches her fall in love with his best friend, Steve Rogers.

Pairing: Bucky x Reader / Steve x Reader

Word count: 1.5K


A/N: Requests are open and I absolutely am open to anything (as long as it isn’t morally wrong)! I love speaking to you guys and receiving any type of feed back so please don’t hesitate to send an ask or message (:



Keep reading

Until It Is Gone

Originally posted by endlessikon

Artist/Person : Kim Jiwon

Group/Crew : iKon/MOBB

Genre : Angst

Word Count : 1183

Requested: Can I request an angst friends with benefit scenario with bobby? Thanks

A/N: I’m sorry that it took so long. I may do a couple more parts for this. Hope you enjoy!

I knew it wasn’t a relationship. We made that clear when we made this decision. I was the main one pushing the ‘no catching feelings’, yet here I am. In bed. Sobbing in the middle of the night. In the darkness of my room. I shouldn’t have felt jealous when I saw him flirting with her. Or when I saw them on a date. Or at his house. I shouldn’t have felt my heartbreak when I saw them together at the party. I shouldn’t have felt anything. Even when he ended whatever it was that we had going on. I shouldn’t have caught anything, or even thought for a second that what we had could just maybe develop into something more that sex. But, it was hard not to. The way that over time he started to ask me to stay over for nights at a time. He would cuddle. He took me around his friends. He acted though he cared about me. And I believed him.

I was perched up against the trunk of a tree, head tilted up as I stared at the stars. The moon shining down onto me, as the sound of the river flowing quietly fills the, otherwise silent, air. My bloodshot eyes held unshed tears, as where my lips were chapped and dry as they stayed parted in a small ‘o’ shape. It’d been like this for nearly two months. And yet no one noticed, or tried to help. I didn’t even try to act as though I was fine, as if I wasn’t hurt by anything. My eyes slowly moved downwards, focusing on the flowing river, the moon reflecting off its surface. Eyes slipping shut at their own accord, a gentle smile pulled at the corners of her lips.

Their smiles were bright, obnoxious laughter filling the air surrounding the two. They were at an amusement park, leaning on each other as they got used to being on the ground again. Their eyes sparkled with joy, crinkled up by the high cheeked smiles. “Ohh~ Let’s ride that one!” She remembers looking back at him, watching him nod at her request before letting her pull him to said rollercoaster. They had fun that whole day. After leaving the park, going out to a diner for a small dinner, before heading to a movie and then her house where he dropped her off with a gentle kiss on the forehead.

I could still feel the tingling of his soft lips on my forehead, and the feeling of hundreds of butterflies that filled my stomach.

Sighing, I slumped against the tree more, feeling the winter wind blow over the landscape. My hair blew in my face, cheeks having already gone completely numb from the cold. It had already been late out when I got up and rushed out of my house and into the cold, winter air. Of course, I brought a jacket, but now I was starting to regret not paying close enough attention and making sure to grab my winter coat.

Standing, I felt a shiver run through my body, causing me to hug the thin material closer to me and wrap my arms tightly around my form. Another heavy sigh passed through my lips as I started to make my way back to the warmth of my home. I let my mind wander, thinking back to a year and a half ago, when I met him.

Her head was down, eyes focusing on the screen of her phone as her thumbs tapped quickly against it. She wasn’t paying attention to her surroundings, and neither was he, as he stared at the notes scribbled down messily on a page of his notebook for his upcoming test. At they were in their own worlds, up until they ran into each other. “Oomph” She let out, falling onto her butt as he staggered a bit from the force of their clash. She breathed out a silent ‘thank you’ as she clutched her phone to her chest after picking it up from the concrete where it fell, checking for any scratches of cracks. Then, she looked up, meeting eye contact with him. She stood up, smiled at him softly before muttering a quiet apology before rushing off to the other side of campus, praying that she was fast enough for him not to see her heated cheeks.

After that, we’d see each other randomly. Bumping into each other on campus, off campus, at parties, even at the grocery store. We also realized that we even shared a couple of classes together. Then one day, he decided to come up and talk to me. Of course, I was surprised, staring up at him with wide eyes as he smiled down at me. And that was the start of something that neither one of us could explain. We never really talked about what it was that we had going on. It just never came up.

A whimper leaving my chapped lips brought me back to reality. I didn’t realize that I’d started crying, until the cold air hit it and sent a freezing sensation through my cheeks. Looking up, I saw my house and smiled slightly. I could feel my body getting excited at the thought of the warmth that filled my home, engulfing me into its heated clutch. But, just as I was beginning to get happy, it was shot as I noticed the figure sitting on my steps. I froze in place, staring at the person with wide eyes. I studied the form of the obviously male guest, immediately knowing who it was. Even before he lifted his head, the porch light revealing his face to me completely. His shoulders were broad, even as they folded over. His muscular arms were covered by a baggy hoody, along with the rest of his toned upper body. A pair of sweatpants covered his legs, the ends disappearing into the tops of his socks that were hidden in his sneakers. As my eyes traveled back up, I noticed that his hair was covered with a snapback, with a few strands of the honey-blonde strands poking out. When my eyes finally settled back onto his face, I realized that he’d gotten up and began making his way to me. My breath hitched, body immediately setting into flight mode as I ran pass him, onto my porch, and to the door. My hands were shaking as I tried to get the key into the knob and get into my house, but my mind was a complete mess as I fumbled and dropped the keys.

I looked down, getting ready to bend down and snatch them up, but then I saw his large hand grab them. My body froze and my eyes squeezed shut, my teeth latching onto the dry skin of my plump bottom lip. “Y/N…” He spoke softly, the deepness of his voice sending shivers down my spine. I felt his hand gently wrap around my wrist, turning my around to face him. Slowly, I opened my eyes and looked up to him. “JiWon…”

anonymous asked:

can you please do a fic of elide and lorcan arguing infront of the entire court with everyone watching????? PLEASE?!

A misunderstanding leads to an argument and eventually a blushing/happy ending! 

A few silky strands of black starless night hair fell from Elide’s coiled bun as she briskly walked through the castle halls. Her gait uneven as her ankle twinged in pain, but she paid no attention to it. Just like she ignored the pounding steps that could be heard toward the castle’s entryway.

“Elide!” The walls shook at the deep sound of the male’s furious tone.

Her steps did not falter, but her heart did.

No. Do not feel guilty.

She stepped into the throne room hoping to use it as a shortcut to her guest room during her time Ornyth. A locked door wouldn’t stop him, but maybe he would reconsider and calm himself before approaching her.

“ELIDE!” Lorcan’s voice boomed. Much closer than Elide expected.

“What the hell is going?” Aelin drawled from her throne. Her calm demeanor made Elide walk faster toward her Queen. Rowan looked between Elide and the door she had just walked through.

Lysandra stood nearby with Aedion at her side. Both with varying looks of confusion until their nostrils flared. Lysandra’s eyes narrowed and glowed with the hint of her snow leopard form prowling underneath.

Rowan and Aedion eyes trained on something behind Elide. Their stances were rigid in anticipation at whatever storm had just entered the room.

Elide didn’t have to turn around to know who stood behind her. She could feel his dark presence wrapping around her body like a cloak.

“Elide,” Lorcan growled. His voice barely understandable.

“Not now Lorcan,” Elide said sharply. She was not about to have this conversation in front of Aelin’s Court.

“When? After you lock yourself in your room and refuse to see me?” Lorcan moved to stand in front of Elide. Blocking her path to the set of doors that would lead her to the guest rooms.

“Well at least that would give you plenty to take Essar back to your room then wouldn’t it?” Elide replied with a glare.

“Essar is here?” Rowan raised a brow at Aelin who shrugged one shoulder. They were expecting the fae female for some time now. Apparently Elide was never notified that Essar was a previous lover of Lorcan’s. Aelin almost pitied the male if it wasn’t for the fact that Elide’s statement made her question that pity.

“Essar and I are nothing,” Lorcan said. His long dark hair fell over his equally dark eyes. “There was never any love between us. Perhaps one-sided affection from her, but that quickly diminished.”

“Then explain to me exactly what I overheard in the market today,” Elide bit out. “In fact I’m sure other witnesses would wonder why my mate had agreed to meet some other woman in his room later!”

Aelin and the others blinked in surprise. Both that the Elide’s statement and her furious tone that would have brought lesser men quaking in their boots.

Except Lorcan was not just any man. He was a fae male hardened by centuries of gory battles. He simply narrowed his eyes at the shorter female fuming before him.

“Perhaps if you would listen then I can explain-”

“Oh this out to be good,” Lysandra murmured to Aedion.

Lorcan shot the female shifter a glare before returning his attention back to Elide. “I am not meeting Essar for…intimate relations.”

Elide rolled her eyes. “No need to act innocent with your words Lorcan. We both know your experience with woman,” she turned her head away to glare at the grey stonewalls covered in Terrasen banners. “I just thought you only devoted yourself to one woman at a time,” Elide finished despondently. Wondering if their bond as mates wasn’t a good enough reason for Lorcan. Or if Elide was lacking in some way.

Lorcan snarled. His canines showed clearly with his next words. “You’re right,” his words lashed out even though a part of his mind urged him to stop. Hellas reached to leash in Lorcan’s rage as he sensed Elide’s anger and self-doubt. But if Elide wanted brutal honesty then Lorcan would channel it with his words. “I’ve bedded too many women to count and only saw them for what they could offered inside a bedroom.”

“Then what’s stopping you now!” Elide choked back tears. “It’s not like you haven’t crushed my heart before so why stop now?”

Lorcan winced.  Elide bit her bottom lip. Wishing too late that she hadn’t brought up his betrayal that happened years ago on beach that still brought back horrid memories. Elide could still remember her tear’s falling to the sand as Aelin’s blood dripped down her back from whip lashings.

The throne room was silent. Aelin and the others stood watching what would happen next.

Lorcan went deathly still. His onyx eyes dulled in the memory that Elide dredged up from his past. A decision he made that he’s regretted each day since.

Elide watched Lorcan carefully. She saw the pain of his actions flicker in eyes like a glint of a blade. Opening a wound that hadn’t healed and probably never would.

Her hand clenched into a small fist. Shaking from her emotions that were suffocating her. A slight nudge, perhaps from Anneith or the bond she shared between Lorcan, made Elide slowly reach out. Her shaking fingers grazed his scarred dark hand intending to grasp it. To apologize for letting her anger and sadness get the better of her. By inflicting a barbed statement that cut him to the core.

Such a pathetic little girl. Vernon’s vile voice crept into her mind. You couldn’t save Kaltain nor could you stop your Queen from being whisked away by Maeve. And now your mate seeks the bed of another. You are worthless to them Elide-

“Don’t,” Lorcan’s command halted Elide’s thoughts with frightening severity. He had only said the words to seize the negative thoughts that plagued her mind. But Elide didn’t know that. She thought he didn’t want her touching him.

Her fingers fell from his. The loss of that brief warmth severed something inside Elide. She barely held back the hot tears threatening to stream down her face.

Lorcan wondered how this woman before him could utterly have him at her mercy in a single word. How those tears in her eyes could break him more than a hundred years worth of bloody battles.

He could feel her retreating. The bond confirming his suspicions as he felt a wall being drawn up between them. But he heard her thoughts clearly as if she had spoken them. Her bastard of an uncle tainting her mind with false whispers even though he had long since died by the hand of Lorcan’s merciless hatchet.

Elide’s breath hitched as she turned to leave him as tears finally fell.

“Don’t,” Lorcan repeated. His arm grabbed her elbow and he could tell the others in the room tensed.

She looked up at him with a harsh face with wet trails down her cheeks. “Take your hand off me.” The words were quiet, yet deafening in Lorcan’s ears.

He had always given her space when requested. Knew that there were boundaries not to be crossed. But this moment Lorcan broke that unspoken rule between them.

His mouth tightened as his hand gradually drifted down to take her hand – her fingers dwarfed in his.

“Do not think for one second,” Lorcan began. “That you are pathetic or worthless.”

Elide stilled. Her heartbeat fluttering rapidly in her chest like a hummingbird’s wings. She did not respond to Lorcan’s words.

Lorcan leaned down. His dark hair brushed against her as his forehead rested gently against hers.

“Elide Lochan, Lady of Perranth, you have faced monsters that even the strongest fae warriors would cower at,” Lorcan said. His breath mingling with Elide’s. “You’ve dedicated yourself to assisting your Queen and friends even at the risk of your own life countless of times. You were significant and vital to Terrasen’s growth after years of agony.”

Lorcan paused. Waiting until Elide looked up at him with tired eyes glimmering in hope. “You are invaluable. Precious. And I love you more than anything in this world or the next.”

Elide blinked. “But…Essar-”

“Is in the past like the other women who agreed for simple sex. Nothing more.” Lorcan said. “But Elide…you’re my salvation. A future I can only hope to prove each day that I’m worthy of you.”

“Then why is she coming to your room?” Elide’s free hand fisted into the fabric above her heart. Wishing to push back the pain that pounded with each beat 

“Because I have unfinished documents in my room that I need to give her, but someone,” Lorcan set a seething glare at Rowan. “Never signed his signature which is why Essar now has to come here since the signatures need to be conducted in a magically sealed room.”

“He is right,” Rowan interjected. “Since Lorcan and I are signing off on the treaties between Wendlyn cities and Terresan we figured it would be best to do so in an room without threat of intrusion or magic seeping in. We concluded that by using Lorcan’s room he could ward the room while Essar and I finished signing the last papers.”

“So Lorcan’s purpose in this treaty is for his magical shields?” Aedion pondered.

“We would have used the main room or even mine and Rowan’s room,” Aelin said. “But Lorcan balked at the idea saying that the room would probably smell of-”

“There is no need to say it!” Lorcan interrupted with a slight blush on his dark cheeks. “We know how often you and Rowan spend in that room. And we all know you are not just sleeping in there.”

 Aelin grinned with a teasing glint in her eye.

 “What’s wrong Lorcan. Surely you aren’t embarrassed to be in a room where Rowan and I spend hours fu-”

 “Aunt Aelin!” Evangeline bounded into the throne room with a stumbling maid trailing after her.

 “I’m sorry my Queen, but miss Evangeline insisted on seeing you and the others,” the maid gasped before Aelin dismissed her with a brief nod.

 Lorcan thanked the gods for Evangeline’s interruption. But the knowing look in Elide’s eyes made him sweat nervously.

 “So,” Elide whispered in his ear. “You hosted the treaty signings in your room because you didn’t want to be in a room where Aelin and Rowan had…intimate relations?” She added the last part with a wink.

 Lorcan groaned. “Can we please not bring this up again?”

 Elide laughed and the others in the room that heard her laugh knew that the misunderstanding between her and Lorcan had cleared up.

 “Perhaps, but only if you make it up to me,” Elide brushed a hand down Lorcan’s firm chest. His muscles twitched underneath her nimble fingers.

 “Elide,” Lorcan’s tone deepened. His eyes focused intently on the little smirk playing on Elide’s soft lips before she turned away and walked toward the others who were listening intently to what Evangeline was saying.

 Late that night, long after the citizens of Ornyth slumbered, two mates were still awake. Their limbs tangling in bed sheets. The female sighed as the male kissed her cheeks and moved down and further down until her sigh became his name gasped into the night. And it wouldn’t be the last. Her mate fully intended to spend most of the night seeing to the needs of the woman who he loved to fiercely and tenderly.

When morning light illuminated the sky. Lorcan and Elide lingered in bed. Perfectly content to pass the hours in the arms of each other with faint smiles on their lips.

Moon of Fire Part vii (Sastiel Sequel)

This was probably one of the most fun I’ve had whilst writing Sastiel. I appreciate all of your love, likes, comments, and reactions and honestly thank you guys so much! We’re 7/10 of the way through!!

If you haven’t read A Court of Fire and Dreams:
Part I, Part II, Part III, Part IV and Part V.

Moon of Fire:
Part i, Part ii, Part iii, Part iv, Part v, Part vi

Keep reading

Ruins Sneakpeek~


Am hummed as Keith oiled her scales one day, Your mind is still troubled, Little One.

Keith frowned and continued to rub at a rough patch under her wing. “The nightmares still happen, beautiful. That’s something that I can’t help.”

Ah, have you talked to Bear Rider about them?

“She already knows about them, there’s not much she can do until I work it out on my own.” He stopped rubbing and moved to the pail of scale oil on the ground, dunking the cloth and wringing it out. “As of right now, I don’t really know if I will ever get over it. What Lotor –” Keith hesitated, backtracking. “…what he did was something that I can’t get out of my mind.”

Am lowered her wing, laying it gently over him. Little One, you must let yourself rest. These night monsters aren’t going to go away if you give into them.

Keith raised her wing to peek up at her. “I’m not giving in, I just… It’s hard to think through it all.” He let her wing droop and wrapped his arms around himself. “Sometimes I can still feel the shackles on my hands and feet… I can feel his gaze on me. It tore me down… and it went on for three years, Am. That’s a long time to be kept below ground, beaten, and starved.” Too many times he remembered being beaten for hoarding the food he was given. Now he scarfs it all down before anyone can take it away from him.

Her red eyes glittered and she purred comfortingly as Keith fought to keep himself together.

“I thought… After so long I… There was a time that I thought you were actually gone. And what Rowen said the other day about Alteans treating the bond as sacred… the Empire needs to change. We can’t be treating dragons – our partners – as tools or cattle. You’re part of us, an important and intrinsic part of us. We need you just as much as you need us.”

Little One, change comes with time. Zarkon is not going to live forever.

“But Prorok and Lotor will continue with his beliefs. The Empire will fall if we continue this way.”

You cannot change everything, Little One. I admire your heart and your strength to recognize that there is wrong in the world. Am lowered her head and huffed over his hair. He squinted up at the hot air, breathing in the brimstone of her surety. The Empire will see its consequences eventually, but you are free. What happens to the Empire now is none of your concern.

Keith looked down at the ground and sighed. She was right. He couldn’t be worrying about this when he needed to find Shiro. It was just like Rowen said, it wasn’t his fault that Zarkon decided to fixate on what he didn’t have. The Empire’s downfall won’t be because of him running away.

He looked up at his beautiful, strong dragon, his partner, his soulmate, and smiled gratefully at her. “Thank you, beautiful.”

All will be well, Little One, do not worry.