#Also impromptu welcome dinner

[sweemmy]

⋆｡ﾟBeing an idol (by South Korean standards) comes with its perks and challenges, and these girls are fully aware of it. ﾟ｡⋆

— Vi, Caitlyn, Sevika, and Jinx.

VI.

Vi feels a deep sense of pride in everything you've accomplished, but also carries the fear that your relationship could be at risk if it were to be exposed. She works hard to keep everything a secret, even though it sometimes overwhelms and frustrates her. Despite all of this, she does it out of love for you, prioritizing your well-being over her own feelings.

She’s always alert when you go out in public together. Even on the quietest strolls, she picks less crowded routes to avoid paparazzi or fans. For her, protecting you isn’t just important—it’s her top priority.

Though she tries to act “cool,” she secretly keeps your merchandise like any devoted fan. In fact, you’ll probably have to beg her to stop playing your album on repeat when you’re around because she simply can’t resist.

After an exhausting day, Vi welcomes you with open arms and a homemade meal, even if it’s just a simple comfort food like instant noodles. She offers you her shoulder, the perfect place to unload everything on your mind, and with a look full of calm and reassurance, she promises that you’ll always find a safe place by her side.

If anything were ever leaked about you two, Vi would be the first to stand by you without hesitation, ready to face any hate that might come your way. For her, the only thing that matters is that you keep going, never giving up on your dreams.

CAITLYN.

Caitlyn recognized you with surprise, her eyes sparkling for a moment before she approached you with a shy smile. With a hint of nervousness, she asked, "Would it be too much to ask for an autograph?" She never imagined that such a simple question could lead to a conversation that would gradually become more meaningful and intimate.

From the very start, Caitlyn understood how vulnerable your position as an Idol was, and she made it her mission to protect you with complete dedication. She didn't hesitate to keep the relationship a secret if that was what it took to ensure your safety and well-being.

She is your invisible pillar behind the scenes. Not only does she follow you with devotion as your number one fan, but she also becomes your most trusted advisor, offering wise advice on how to navigate the whirlwind of fame. She supports you during speech rehearsals and interviews, always eager to fine-tune every detail. And when finances get tight, she doesn’t hesitate to dip into her wallet to help make your dream music video a reality.

She always finds subtle and sweet ways to show her love for you, without seeking any recognition: from little secret notes she leaves in your bag to mysterious flowers she sends you just before a big event, always thinking of you.

Although she trusts you completely, Caitlyn can’t help but feel uneasy about the possibility of someone discovering what you share. Her mind spins over all the potential consequences, and while she tries to stay calm, she is always prepared to face any unexpected challenges that may arise.

SEVIKA.

Sevika is fully aware of the risks that come with your relationship. Although she dislikes hiding her feelings, she understands that it's best for you to keep a low profile. She accepts the rules without complaining too much.

Though she doesn't speak much, her love is shown in the simplest gestures, yet ones full of meaning. She surprises you with homemade dinners when you have a break or greets you with your favorite drink, easing the exhaustion of a long day.

While she has full trust in your discretion, the fear of a leak never leaves her mind. Her biggest worry is that someone might hurt you emotionally because of the relationship you share.

If at any point you feel overwhelmed by the pressure, Sevika won't hesitate to pull you out of that toxic environment, even if it means organizing an impromptu escape to help you regain your peace.

With Sevika, you don't have to hide who you are. She gives you the space to be yourself, something that is increasingly rare in a world that constantly pressures you to be perfect.

JINX.

Jinx refuses to be bound by rules or societal norms, preferring to live life on her own terms. Still, she knows that your future might hinge on what happens next. Although her carefree attitude hides it, she genuinely makes an effort to protect your privacy.

When you're with her, she pulls you into her world, overflowing with chaos and madness. If stress is weighing you down, she becomes an escape: drawing graffiti that captures the essence of your songs, painting your face in vibrant colors, or taking you to hidden corners where the world seems to vanish, leaving only space for her secret haven.

She’s not shy about mocking the artists you work with, tossing out outrageous remarks like, "Who does that guy think he is? I could sing better than him, just watch me!" All just to make you laugh.

Her way of cheering you up might be a bit unusual — like filling your dressing room with bright neon lights — but she always manages to make you feel special and deeply appreciated.

Though she doesn't say it in words, she's afraid that this relationship might impact your career. If it were ever exposed, she would take full responsibility, even if it meant losing you. As much as it would break her heart, deep down, what she wants most is to see you chase your dreams, even if that means doing it without her by your side.

[landoslvr]

MRS CLARKEY | g. clarke

summary: a scroll through your internet presence as 'mrs clarkey'. [social media AU.]

pairing: fem!reader x george clarke

faceclaim: steph hui

notes: first piece for mrs george out of the wag universe. steph is gonna be the main fc I use for mrs clarkey, hopefully you like it! this is the longest one I've done so far.. definitely want to do a fic for their first meeting and for the useless hotline podcast- maybe even the ski trip!

liked by user, user and 37,923 others

yourinstagram happy halloween 💋💋

view all 281 comments

user you're literally so hot y/n

user I want to be you so bad

user how can I look like that

user jeez u flexible or something baby?

user the dress? the hair? the makeup??? unreal

yourinstagram thank you!! I did it myself xxx

user shes godly

user have fun tonight!!

user she's the only girl I know to have an impromptu photoshoot and then go out drinking

yourinstagram gotta take the outfit for a spin!!!

liked by chrismd10, arthurtv and 58,283 others

georgeclarkeey you should've seen the other guy!

view all 198 comments

user george wth

user its the vomit on the cheerleading outfit for me

chrismd10 looking good mate

wroetoshaw nice eyebrow....... eyebrow singular

georgeclarkeey yes I got that thank you

user AS IF Y/N FOUND HIM ON HER NIGHT OUT

user I KNOW!! I came from her tweets after everyone tagging this guy

chrismd10 you getting referred to as 'this guy' on your own post is so funny to me

georgeclarkeey well, you're huge aren't you?

imallexx loving the new look mate

user waiting for y/n to join the comments ��

user me too 😶😶

yourinstagram its great to know what you look like with both of your eyebrows george! a pleasure to have met you, despite the circumstances...

georgeclarkeey my left eyebrow was too intimidated by seeing betty boop in the flesh it ran away!

user my heart 😭

liked by georgeclarkeey, max_balegde and 37,192 others

yourinstagram went on the useless hotline podcast this week to talk about me saving the george clarke! thank you very much for having me boys 🤍

view all 302 comments

user she's just so pretty

user as if model queen y/n saved youtuber george clarke 😭 not over that at all

georgeclarkeey always a pleasure, you're welcome back anytime you feel like scraping me off of the pavement

yourinstagram anytime you need me, I'll be there to call the ambulance

user LOVE that coat

georgeclarkeey also feeling something.. or someone.. is missing from this post?

yourinstagram idk what you want from me here clarke

max_balegde ahhhhhh!!!!!! such a pleasure to meet the woman that singlehandedly saved my co-host from death <3 thanks so much for coming on, martini besties for life now

yourinstagram call me anytime you need multiple olives!!!

max_balegde three olives, extra dry!!

user stop I hope they all stay friends 😭

liked by georgeclarkeey, chrismd10 and 39,219 others

yourinstagram casual 'saved your life/face' dinner post

view all 331 comments

user nahhhhhhhhh because this is a date

user y/n looks so good 😭😭

user lets not ignore George Clarke wearing something other than a t-shirt

chrismd10 impressed you managed to get him in slacks!

georgeclarkeey your mum brought them for me

user THAT DRESS

user I just wanna be you y/n

user George has major cake its not funny

max_balegde literally should be criminal

georgeclarkeey you saved my life I am eternally grateful

yourinstagram 👽👽👽

liked by georgeclarkeey, chrismd10 and 40,938 others

yourinstagram visiting the mountain tops with some new friends x

view all 370 comments

user bitch we know that's george clarkey, fess up

max_balegde the love of my life really tbh, you look sooooo good

yourinstagram max I'll cry

user drop the link for the jackets!!

user that is george clarke's watch missy

user so you just so happen to be on a ski trip at the same time at george and his friends?????????? coincidence? I think NOT

user I know george is using ever fibre of his being not to comment on this right now

liked by yourinstagrm, miniminter and 59,902 others

georgeclarkeey there's 'snow' way it's this cold in the mountains

view all 286 comments

user Y/N TAKE OF THE SKI MASK COWARD

user we literally know it's her

chrismd10 handsome fellas

user literally just tell us you're dating guys

wroetoshaw high altitude my friend

user love these pics of the boys together

arthurtv distinguished skiers and snowboarders

charliehutchens really good ones too

user do you think y/n had to throw her phone out of her hotel room to stop herself from commenting?

user yes, yes I do

liked by georgeclarkeey, wroetoshaw and 37,981 others

yourinstagram out and about ✈️🗺️

view all 320 comments

user should we tell y/n that she posted a picture of George in the 4th slide and then proceeded to cut his head out of the 6th one????

user let her live in peace I guess

user wow no one is immune to stupidity these days 😭

user can't believe they took her so young

georgeclarkeey you're not getting that poster back

yourinstagram if you dont return my harry styles poster I will sue

georgeclarkeey I live with a lawyer, so good luck with that darling

user DARLING???? LITERALLY JUST PUNCH ME IN THE FACE NEXT TIME GEORGE

liked by yourinstagram, stephentries and 61,192 others

georgeclarkeey chris informed us that you all know we're dating so no more discreet photo dumps I guess?

view all 401 comments

user WAR IS OVERRRRRR

user quick everyone act like we didn't see this shit coming

user the way he tried to do her dirty in the last 3 pics but he literally can't

user she's just so pretty

user I wanna be her

max_balegde mrs clarkey!!!!!!

yourinstagram !!!!!

chrismd10 you're so welcome mate

user she's so gorgeous

user kills me

user george x y/n girlies won today

yourinstagram 🤍🤍🤍 love you big stupid idiot 🤍🤍🤍 once I posted the invisalign it was over..

georgeclarkeey guys gotta eat

liked by georgeclarkeey, arthurfhill and 43,938 others

yourinstagram casual 'I can finally post my boyfriend' post!!!!

view all 493 comments

user guys I love today

user this makes me so happy

chrismd10 the power of drunken lime bike rides!

yourinstagram thank you lime bikes

user the alien picture kills me

max_balegde can't wait to have you back on the pod as mrs clarkey

yourinstagram a promotion, for me???

user george is so cute, I envy y/n!

arthurtv it's about time tbh

user I've been waiting for this one

georgeclarkeey was worth losing half of an eyebrow I guess

yourinstagram maybe the eyebrows were the friends we made along the way?

[pepi1989]

can you do dating marcello head canons

Dating Marcello Hernandez Headcanons

Constant Laughter: Marcello is hilarious, both on and off the stage. Dating him means you're always in stitches, whether he's cracking jokes about everyday things or making fun of his own clumsy moments. You’re his favorite audience, and he loves seeing you laugh more than anything.

Supportive Partner: He’s super supportive of your dreams and ambitions. Even though he has a busy schedule with comedy gigs and acting, he makes time to listen to your goals, hype you up, and offer encouragement when you need it. Marcello’s genuinely invested in your success and never misses a chance to remind you of how amazing you are.

Impromptu Dance Sessions: He randomly bursts into dance whenever a song comes on that he likes, and pulls you into the fun. His moves are either really smooth or goofy, depending on his mood, but either way, it leads to spontaneous dance parties in the living room or even in the middle of the street.

Date Nights with a Twist: Marcello loves to keep things interesting when it comes to date nights. One day it might be a fancy dinner, the next he’s taking you to an open mic night where he’ll casually roast himself in front of a crowd, or even a late-night food truck run where he tries to order for you in a ridiculous accent. The variety keeps your relationship exciting.

Goofy Texts All Day: His text messages are either memes, funny videos, or random thoughts that make no sense but somehow always make you smile. He’s the type to text you a photo of an ostrich and be like, “This reminded me of you.”

Protective in the Sweetest Way: Marcello might be a comedian, but he’s also a bit protective of you in the best way. Whether it’s making sure you’re comfortable in social settings or standing up for you when someone oversteps, he’s got your back. It’s never overbearing, just that quiet reassurance that he’s always in your corner.

Never a Dull Moment: You’re never bored with Marcello. Whether it’s traveling for his shows or him introducing you to new things, there’s always some spontaneous adventure waiting. Sometimes it’s as simple as him suggesting a new hobby, like trying out a cooking class or going hiking even though he’s not the outdoorsy type.

Romantic Surprises: He may be a jokester, but Marcello has a romantic side he brings out when you least expect it. Small gestures like leaving cute notes, randomly bringing you your favorite snacks, or planning surprise dates to places that mean something to you both show how thoughtful he is.

Family Guy: Marcello is super close with his family, and that love extends to you. You’re welcomed with open arms by his family, and Marcello makes sure you feel like part of the crew. He talks about his roots with pride, and bringing you into that part of his life is a big deal for him.

Inside Jokes for Days: Over time, you two develop a vault of inside jokes that no one else would understand. He’ll say one word or give you a look, and you instantly crack up, leaving everyone around you confused. Your connection is filled with those small, silly moments that make your relationship special.

He’s Your Biggest Fan: Whatever you’re passionate about, Marcello is right there, cheering you on like it’s his job. Whether it's a hobby, your career, or a personal goal, he’s always there to support and celebrate your victories (and help you through the tough spots).

Cuddles and Comfort: Despite his busy, high-energy persona, Marcello loves quiet, intimate moments. After a long day, he’s the first to wrap you up in his arms on the couch and just relax. He might play with your hair or make sure you’re cozy with a blanket as you watch your favorite shows together.

Always Trying to Impress You: Even after you’re together for a while, Marcello will still try to impress you. Whether it’s pulling off a joke that took him forever to perfect or showing off his cooking skills (which may or may not need work), he wants to make sure he’s keeping the spark alive and showing how much he cares.

Late-Night Talks: Some of the best moments are your late-night conversations, where Marcello drops the funny guy act and gets real with you. Whether you’re talking about your dreams, fears, or just reminiscing about the day, these quiet, vulnerable moments make you fall for him even more.

Lighthearted Teasing: He’s always playfully teasing you, but in the most loving way. It’s never mean-spirited, just his way of keeping things fun. He loves seeing how flustered you get when he calls you out on something silly you did, but you always know it’s all in good fun.

Public Displays of Affection (But in His Own Way): He’s not one to shy away from holding your hand in public or wrapping an arm around you, but Marcello’s version of PDA also includes playfully embarrassing you, like doing something goofy when you’re in a serious moment, just to make you laugh.

[koolades-world]

can i have the om brothers dealing with insomniac+workaholic!mc? Diavolo made a grave fucking mistake when unwillingly inviting mc to the devildom. can't sleep? work. bored? work. have nothing else to do? ask Lucifer or Diavolo for more work to do, or maybe cook something for Beel.

also, insomnia isn't easy to deal with. they have to pull out the strongest sleep potion or magic out there for that fucker to sleep. "oh have you tried melatonin?" YES I HAVE?? I'VE TRIED- "do you turn off your lights when you go to sleep?" no, i sleep with the lights on-- OF COURSE I TURN OFF THE LIGHTS YOU FUCKIN BALL LICKER. "maybe stop being on that phone of yours at late at night.." I CAN'T FUCKING SLEEP SO I MIGHT AS WELL DO SOMETHING.

whenever mc runs out of things to do, they re-do an assignment that got less than a 100% score.. someone drag this dymbfuck away from their work..

can i be🍷anon? or glass-eater anon? :3

hello!! yes, of course

those are both amazing anon names haha, welcome to the anon crew

enjoy <3

Workaholic Insomniac Mc

Lucifer

you can bet both of yall are making eye contact in the hallway at four am, and neither of you have slept

he gets you bestie

however he's willing to acknowledge both of you are practicing an unhealthy habit

together, you can take days off and as much as you itch to do work, you can stop each other. what a fun bonding activity!

Mammon

this is just like dealing with lucifer so he knows the drill

let you work as much as you want during the day without shirking your other responsibilities, but after dinner, he's dragging you away from it by the back of your shirt

when he can't fall asleep, he goes for a night drive, to nowhere in particular

so, he always invites you, because he knows you can't say no to him

Levi

he's also almost always awake at odd hours of the night, so he's always available

he would not be great to work in the same room as though

however he is willing to get you away from your work for a while to play some games with him

he knows that you need time away from that paper work and as much as you want to go back to it, he'll keep you with him until you complete the level. mark his word haha

Satan

will help you make those sleeping potions, or has solomon make some for you

if you ever want help with your work, he's willing to lend a hand, even though he knows you almost always say no

whenever you're awake at night, he'll come and sit where ever you're sitting to read so you'll have company

more often than not, he and belphie are next to you while you work as a silent indicator of what, or who, is waiting for you when you're done or want to take a break

Asmo

he fully believes in relaxing before bed and since he loves it so much, he suggests you try it with him

the first night you tried didn't really go as planned because he got a little overexcited so you had to try again the next night

that goes much better, and while it wasn't instant sleep, it was certainly better than staring at the ceiling for hours

plus, you get to spend time with asmo! who doesn't want that?

Beel

he won't lie he does enjoy the occasional impromptu meal you make for him when you've really got no more work to do (which is rare)

but he's concerned about you

honestly he thinks you're just like lucifer, you sincerely care about those around you and you work with them in mind

if you ever find random refreshments on your desk in the few moments you were gone, just know it was probably him

Belphie

as the self proclaimed king of sleep, he's always going out of his way to try and help you out

sometimes he falls asleep on your bed waiting for you to join him, while satan is still somehow going strong with his reading

if he notices you sitting at your desk for far too long, he'll start to whine and complain until you get in bed with him

sometimes, while he feels guilty, he'll use his power to help you fall asleep faster and give you a sweet dream that's usually about him

[alotofpockets]

Home | Natasha Romanoff

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x Reader

Prompts: "I've had a bad day, and honestly all I want right now are some cuddles." & "You've always felt like home."

A/n: Could be read as a part 2 to 'Seeking comfort' but also works on it's own :)

Masterlist | Marvel masterlist | Words: 1k

Living with Natasha had been nothing short of perfect. You had been living together for a couple of months now, and the experience had been amazing so far. Your shared place had felt like home from the moment you and Natasha had stepped foot in it. Over the months you grew to love the little habits that started to form. 

One of your new favorite things has become coming home to Natasha. The way she ran to the door when she heard the familiar noise of your keys jingling before unlocking the front, always welcoming you home with lots of kisses, was something you would never get enough from. She was always so happy to have you back home, and in return you were very happy to be back in her arms.

Another thing that you loved was Natasha coming home to you. You always tried to make it special, and on your days off you did that by putting some extra effort into dinner. Since the two of you had moved in together, you had picked up cooking, and you tried making new recipes as often as you could. You loved surprising your lover with a home-cooked meal, and a nicely set table, turning dinner into little impromptu dates.

Above all else, you loved creating a home with Natasha. The walls and shelves that were blank upon moving, were now filled with pictures, and trinkets of your life together. Just as you had seen that first day you entered Natasha’s bedroom at the Compound. Natasha loved capturing every moment with her polaroid camera, and you loved looking back on the memories the two of you had created.

You were working on a new recipe for tonight when you heard the infamous, “Honey, I'm home.” Natasha loved being cheesy, and you loved all the domesticity that came with it. The Black Widow was a big softy, she was your big softy, and you wouldn’t change that for the world.  “In the kitchen.” You reply. It wasn't long until you heard her footsteps heading your way, and her arms wrapped around your waist from behind. Soft kisses were placed on your shoulder. “Hi detka.” You lean into her body, while you continue stirring the pan. The pasta was boiling, and the sauce you were stirring was almost done. 

“Hi baby, how was work?” Natasha grunts from behind you and nuzzles her head further into your back. "I've had a bad day, and honestly all I want right now are some cuddles." You put the heat down under your pans before you turn around in her arms. “Oh, darling, I’m sorry you had a bad day.” You wrap your arms around her, and hold her close. “Do you want to talk about it?” She shook her head. “That’s okay. Let’s get you those cuddles, shall we?” 

“But what about dinner? I know you worked hard on it.” She says worriedly. “We can just have it on the couch tonight. Why don’t you take a seat? I’ll be right there.” She kisses your cheek, “You’re the best. I love you.” - “I love you too, darling.” You grab two bowls and set them down on the counter. The pasta dish needed a couple more minutes, so you decided to clean up the table you had set already in the meantime.

Once the dish is ready you shoop the pasta and then the sauce into the two bowls. On a tray you bring in both your dishes and the wine you had poured into two glasses. “It smells really good, baby, I can’t wait to try it.” Natasha appreciated your gesture to skip on the fancy set table and enjoy the food on the couch, however she did feel guilty about ruining your plans of a fancy at home dinner date. “I’m sorry about the change of plans.” She says as you hand her one of the bowls. You shake your head, “Don’t worry about it, darling. I don’t mind where we have dinner, I just want to have it with you.” You sit down beside her and put on one of her favorite movies. She instantly leaned into your side. That was another thing you had noticed, Natasha had become a lot more clingy. She always found your hand to hold, or your side to lean into. You were not complaining though, as you loved being close to her.

When your bowls were empty, you discarded them on the table to clean up later, and changed your position on the couch so that Natasha could cuddle into you properly. “Come here, baby.” You said with your arms wide open. She laid her head down on your chest, and you immediately wrapped your arms around her. The movie continued to play on the TV, and you moved one of your hands to absentmindedly play with her hair, knowing how much Natasha loved it when you did that. “Your cuddles always make me feel so much better.” You place a kiss on her forehead, “Oh yeah? Why is that?” Natasha lovingly places a kiss on your neck, “Because you’ve always felt like home.” Gosh, she really is the most adorable person to have ever existed. “You’ve always felt like home to me too. I am so happy that we have found each other, and that I get to live life with you by my side.” 

Natasha didn’t make it to the end of the movie, you heard her breathing change about half way through it. You knew she had a rough day, so you pressed a soft kiss to the top of her head, letting her sleep on your chest while you finished the movie. During the movie you often thought back on how Natasha would softly speak her favorite lines of the movie out loud, the memories always bringing a smile to your face. 

Your girlfriend was still fast asleep when the movie ended. The remote was still within your reach, so you went to Spotify and turned on one of your playlists there. Soft music filled the room, and it wasn’t long before your own eyes fell closed.

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[ashen-char]

dating max fox - hcs

ship: max fox (better things) x gender neutral reader

warnings: none

notes: look at her she's so cute!!!!

✦ sleeps in. she'd sleep until mid-afternoon if you let her. and max is hard to wake up since she's so stubborn

✧ on days where you two don't have to do much, it's easiest to let her sleep on your chest while you scroll on your phone

✧ when max wakes up, she likes to keep cuddling with you and just watch what you're doing on your phone

✧ she's a big fan of TikTok time, which is where you scroll on your FYP and you both crack jokes and watch together. max is singlehandedly ruining your FYP algorithm by liking the most random stuff

✧ e.g. she watches parenting tips all the way through, making TikTok think you wanna see more. when you tease her about it, max says it's "for our future" and either holds your hand or kisses your cheek

✧ she says sleeping next to you is the most comfortable and safe she's ever felt <3

✧ adores cuddles. can't get enough of them. max always curls up next to you and you can tell if it was a tough day if she doesn't want to talk much

✦ tells you all about her siblings

✧ max doesn't like to show it and would never admit it to them, but she's so proud watching frankie and duke become people. she tells you about their latest achievements, or the rants about the last fight they had

✧ if a fight with her mom/siblings was particularly nasty, max comes to you for comfort. max worries about if she's gone too far, and you reassure her that they know she cares

✧ speaking of her family bond, it was crucial to max that you fit in with everyone. and of course, you were welcomed with open arms and immediate inside jokes

✧ max called them all embarrassing (she loved it)

✦ max isn't afraid to express her feelings, and that can lead to lashing out if she feels scared or angry

✧ she says things more harshly than she means to, which was hard for you at the start when you didn't know how much of a softie she is

✧ it didn't take long for max to realise she was messing things up. and she really liked you. so she decided to be vulnerable

✧ her hopes, fears, dreams, she shared them all. max couldn't bear you thinking that she didn't care when really the reason why she lashed out was because she cared so much.

✧ she's scared of losing you. and sometimes max worries that she's too much, or she's too freaked out about everything, so she closes herself off

✧ like, maybe you'll like her more if she deals with her shit alone and only has good times with you

✧ when you assure her that you want every part of her, the good and the bad, max completely breaks down

✧ you were surprised by how insecure your girl really is. under that confident persona, in some ways max is still that little kid that was rattled by her parents' divorce

✧ does love actually exist? can it last? was it her fault?

✧ not to mention all of max's past break-ups and short-term relationships

✧ she admitted that before you, max used to wonder if she was meant to go it alone forever. that she'd be too intense for anyone to stick around if they weren't forced to - like her family or her best friend, paisley

✧ you need to reassure her. a lot. but it's so worth it when max opens up. she wouldn't agree with you, but you think she's the best at love that you've ever seen

✧ despite her tough exterior, max is fiercely loyal. she'll stand by your side through thick and thin. she's got unwavering support and all the encouragement you need, even if that's with a lot of swearing and colourful imagery

✦ max's creative flair means all the romance.

✧ impromptu poetry readings. a surprise song about you, with max serenading you on her guitar. a pottery class where you make matching plates. homemade dinners under the stars (yes, it's a little burnt but she tried her hardest)

✧ she just likes creating shared memories with you, even if something ends up going haywire

✧ max also has this rebellious streak and thirst for adventure. your dates are spontaneous and never the same as the last. she'll surprise you by impulsively taking you on a road trip and you'll have the time of your life

✦ the love language(s) that max finds easiest to express is physical touch and quality time

✧ with max being the oldest, she has the most memories of life when her parents were still together. she knows how important time together is, because her dad not being around was the beginning of the end

✧ which is why max loves being with you in comfortable silence. she adores having someone she can just be chill with, someone who doesn't judge, and likes her the way she is

✧ max likes taking care of you when you're sick. she'll make soup and some hot tea, and even ask sam for some home remedy, bringing that all up to you on a tray

✧ then, she'll sit with you and tell you about her day. even if you're sweating out a fever, max doesn't care. she'll play with your hair and dab your forehead with a towel

✦ the love language that max loves to receive is words of affirmation

✧ that's actually why she fell for you in the first place - you gave her a genuine compliment when you first met and max couldn't stop thinking about it

✧ you give her compliments on things that she didn't know others would notice or admire about her. every one makes her blush and playfully shove you away

✧ max tells you that you've made her a better person <3

[murkycran]

Staticmoth/Voxval Fic Rec List

Welcome to my Staticmoth/Voxval Fic Rec List! :D

I will keep updating this periodically as I read more fics, so feel free to check back every once and a while! I'll reblog it when I update it, plus make a note with the date at the top. Trust me, this is by no means a complete list; there's fics I still want to add to this that I just haven't gotten to yet. I just decided to go ahead and post it anyways, because if I kept waiting until I ran out of fics to rec I'd probably be working on this forever.

These are not in any particular order; I'm going by both my Bookmarks list on AO3 and my memory of fics I forgot to bookmark. I also tried to make notes on what fics were written before season 1 released, but I might have missed some, so keep that in mind.

Please let me know if any links don't work!

✨Before you proceed:✨ read the tags on these fics if you decide to read them. Many of them have heavy material - no surprise given the fandom, but still, felt like this needed said. On that note, there's also fics with explicit material and some fics are straight up PWP. Again, read at your own risk/heed the tags.

Fic Rec List Masterpost

Radiostatic Fic Rec List

Misc. Vox Fic Rec List

------

Freak-A-Zoid by Femalefonzie

Summary: A shortage of suppressants in Hell means that Vox is going to be enduring a heat for the first time in years. Who better than the Vees' resident pimp to help him through it? Afterall, the last thing they need is for someone to complicate the situation with "feelings" and Val was the best at keeping love and lust separate. Until now.

TLDR; Valentino plays himself.

Notes: SO FUCKING FUNNY. Cannot read this in public bc I laughed too much. Val and Vox are both idiots. Perhaps the most human depiction of them that I've seen, especially during sex. Neither of them are suave or coordinated, but by god are they trying.

system takeover by Subedarling

Summary: Velvette has never been the type to play hero. But when a mysterious new player enacts a dangerous plot to usurp the Vees' power, taking her two idiots hostage in the process, that's exactly where she finds herself. Now she has no choice but to go on an impromptu rescue mission, maintain the facade that everything is fine to the outside world, and prove why she's the backbone of the Vees—and she hasn't even had her morning coffee yet.

Vox and Val are going to owe her so hard after this.

Notes: Technically Velvette-centric but I'm including it anyway bc it does have Staticmoth; found family. She's so badass in this, I love it. The Staticmoth is very sweet. :3

even if i quit there's not a chance in hell i'd stop by Subedarling

Summary: Valentino stretches his arms over his head as he enters the kitchen, yawning. His robe is hanging loosely around him, and God, if Vox were to run his hand down his chest he could probably count all his ribs. He stops short when he sees the plates waiting for him on the counter. His eyes narrow. “The hell is this?”

“You know, most people would say thank you when their partner makes them breakfast,” Vox says dryly.

Notes: Very tender. A good kind of hurt. Deals with ED.

Parvulus by Heliosolar

Summary: Vox woke up to something... unusual. Terrifying, even. He calls Valentino, desperate for the help.

Valentino is, of course, irresponsible, and Vox is exhausted.

He just wanted to get through the day like normal, why did this have to happen?

Notes: Written before season 1. The art of Tiny Vox is not linked, but I've seen it before and it is SO CUTE. If anyone has a link, please share with me so I can link it here!

A Wager of Desire by Heliosolar

Summary: Valentino and Vox have a small dispute over something meaningless, so they make a bet.

Vox has to last an entire dinner while at Valentino's mercy.

What could go wrong?

Notes: Written before season 1 release. One of the first Staticmoth fics I read. :)

Venenum by Heliosolar

Summary: During an uneventful meeting, Vox makes the mistake of stealing a drink from Valentino.

Notes: Written before season 1 release.

Getting Railed (By Child Support) by Charnel_Goat, spappest

Summary: The female of several species can store sperm for many years prior to using it to fertilize her eggs. As it turns out, spider trains do this too.

Decades after their romantic fallout, Overlord Choo Choo Charles is knocking on Val's door to demand he take responsibility for the results. By way of kidnapping his boyfriend to lure him to his den.

Notes: One of the crackiest fics I've ever read. Vox is an idiot with a horrible sense of self-preservation and Val fucks a spider train without birth control. Just...read it, okay? I literally cannot think about this fic without giggling like an idiot every time.

Beautiful Monster by IceBlueButterfly

Summary: “You’re late,” is the first thing that comes out of Vox’s mouth.

That sharp smile somehow grows wider.

“I believe the term is ‘fashionably late’ baby,” a smooth voice with a light Spanish accent replies.

Which… okay if Vox is being honest, is kind of hot.

Screen heating up a little more, Vox shoots a bored look.

“Or just late,” he snips back. “Oh well,” he claps his hands. “Doesn’t matter, you ready to get down to business?”

“Oh baby,” a bright gleam in even brighter eyes, “I’m always ready to get down.”

Vox is already regretting this decision.

OR Moments in time throughout Vox and Val's relationship. Vox may have no idea what the moth demon will bring to his life, but neither does Val.

Notes: A very nice exploration of how Vox and Valentino's relationship evolves.

Only a Shadow by passthevoxcord

Summary: Vox shows up on the hotel’s doorstep with no memory of how he got there or who he is. They agree to house and heal him, and slowly but surely he finds joy in becoming better. Then Valentino shows up and is forced to choose between self-altering addiction and the closest he’s ever come to love.

Meanwhile, Velvette has a new potion brewing, one that will grant her more power than the Vees ever had. Only Vox and Val can stop her, but will goodness really overcome evil? Or will they be only a shadow of their former selves?

Notes: The Voxval is currently toxic and only just now being touched on in Chapter 9 of the fic; I say 'currently' because the author explains in the AN of the first chapter that both Vox and Val will go through some "self-discovery and healing". Seriously, just read it. It's very good!!

You Found Me by passthevoxcord

Summary: Long before Velvette came along, it was just them. Vox and Valentino. Valentino and Vox.

Notes: Includes some interesting headcanons for Vox and Val.

Virtual Reality by passthevoxcord

Summary: Vox gets tired of his cybernetic biology being a barrier to his sex life, so he starts a new project to fuck Valentino in VR. Val will try anything once, but he has something else in mind.

Notes: Surprisingly sweet. ^_^

Muted by passthevoxcord

Summary: Val helps a nonverbal Vox deal with sensory overload.

Notes: Sweet and tender. :)

Freaky Friday by passthevoxcord

Summary: Vox and Val wake up stuck in the other’s body, but it’s no big deal because they both know how easy the other has it. Right?

Notes: Written before season 1 release. Sweet take on the different challenges Vox and Val face in their daily lives.

Something Akin To Love Series by Awesome_Possum

Summary: Vox's taste in partners is delightfully self-destructive and that's an itch Valentino is more than happy to scratch.

It's not safe or sane, and whether or not it's technically consensual is heavily up to interpretation, but what they have is probably something akin to love.

A collection of StaticMoth fics set in generally the same continuity.

Valentino is awful and Vox is unfortunately really really into that because a control freak in the streets is a masochist in the sheets.

Notes: Has 2 parts, both very much worth reading. Very funny, lol. Vox is in a hell of his own making but enjoying it at the same time.

Update Prescription by innerfray

Summary: Vox tricks Valentino into getting his eyes checked. They're forced to confront the nature of their partnership.

Notes: One of my favorite Staticmoth oneshots. Felt like an interesting take on Val's blindness. Angst so good...

Like Moth to a Flame (Or to a Bright Blue Screen) by datweirdo

Summary: Valentino is a moth after all

Notes: Cute and funny!!! "You fucking murdered him" lmao

30 Decibels by Shortsighted_Owl

Summary: Somewhere, under the low humming of the monitors, the quiet gurgling of replacement coolant being piped into Vox body, a new noise - dry, yet somehow viscerally wet, and so very soft - made itself known, but only just.

And Valentino almost missed it. - After a fight with Alastor, Valentino watches vigil over Vox’s broken form.

(What if Vox still has organic vocal cords, and after a fight with Alastor, the synthesiser he uses to amplify his voice is destroyed. What if Valentino hears Vox’s real voice for the first time?)

Notes: Heed the tags, there is in fact body horror lol. Sweet but mildly horrific. <3

Priest, mailman, cruise captain or chef? by Destabilize

Summary: Inspired by Vox's outfits in Stayed Gone - Val and Vox try out some kinky stuff with a priest outfit, to mixed success.

Ah ha!” Val squealed with delight, wine glass drained and thrown on a sofa, “This!” Val was standing proudly by the wardrobe holding up a long red robe with a hat and some kind of sash. Vox scowled, “Is that a fucking priest outfit?”

“Si! Isn’t it fun- it’s in your colors too!”

“You wanna be a priest?”

“No baby! You be a priest and I can,” Val sidled up and leaned down, puffing some smoke in Vox’s face, snaking an arm around his waist, “lead you astray...”

Notes: Surprisingly cute and funny! Vox fails epically at roleplay and it is hilarious.

riding out the drop by spoondrifts

Summary: Like he’d said before, killing Alastor was Vox’s kink, not his. He had been prepared to sit back and enjoy the temporary chaos until Vox got over himself.

What he hadn’t accounted for was the possibility that Vox was exactly as obsessive, bitter, and desperate for Alastor’s acknowledgement now as he had been seven years ago. Distance hadn’t made the heart grow fonder: distance had made a highly detailed revenge scrapbook complete with a conspiracy corkboard done up in red string.

Or: Valentino gets fed up with Vox's fixation on the radio demon. They fuck about it.

Notes: Features (sex favorable) asexual!Vox! :D (I lowkey headcanon him as ace ever since the "better than sex" comment)

Featherstone by spoondrifts

Summary: “To me,” Vox told the baby, “it seems like bad parenting to leave your helpless kid for a whole month with two unstable psychopaths and their parole officer. But hey. Who am I to judge.”

No intelligent reply was forthcoming.

Or: not-so accidental baby acquisition, starring the three least responsible idiots this side of the Pentagram.

Notes: Big Vees as family vibes. Wish so desperately this was canon.

vark attack by tarltonnnnn

Summary: Valentino has to petsit Vark for a day. Chaos ensues.

Notes: Written before season 1 release. Vark is a big dumb (and very cute) baby.

Unplugged by pinkpunchy

Summary: Vox looks like he’s going to vomit. Valentino frowns.

“For the one who suggested this, you’re being a real pussy.”

“Fuck you! Just give me a sec.” Vox spits out, muttering darkly as he adjusts his shoulders on the pillows, trying to arrange his body for the moment he loses all function. Valentino, despite his impulsive nature, waits patiently. His manicured nails drag along the spot where cable and port connect, thumb smoothing up and down the flat surface surrounding it. Vox’s breath is coming faster now, not slower, something Valentino is tuned into as naturally as his own breathing.

“Hey.”

A large hand grasps a corner of Vox’s screen, tilting it up and putting an immediate stop to his fidgeting. Valentino smiles, red eyes narrowed to slits.

“Do you trust me?”

Notes: Sex as a...trust exercise? Lol I'm joking, but seriously. Sweet and hot at the same time.

Electric Desires: Lust, Power, and Unspoken Longings in Hell by Dani69696969

Summary: Vox is starting to get fed up with Angel Dust being the only thing Val talks about when Vox is right there, ripe for the taking. Inspired by Vox looking happy that Angel might have quit in Episode 2.

Notes: Very sweet. Plot with porn. :)

The Art of Pimping by MarenRose

Summary: Desperate to close a deal with one of the most lucrative investors in Pride, Vox does the unthinkable and pimps out Valentino for a one-time date. What could go wrong?

Notes: Vox's jealousy and possessiveness really brings out his stalker side in this lmao. Vox is a little pathetic and that makes his jealousy all the more funny to me. :D

Welcome to VoxTek Enterprises! by MarenRose

Summary: Subsequently, Valentino, of all people, has become the office’s saving grace.

(A series of VoxVal ficlets through the eyes of Vox’s assistant)

Notes: Pretty funny! Vox's assistants are really going through it. One of the tags is "Imagine being happy to see Valentino" lol.

(Fic rec list to be continued)

[justapoet]

these roads are changing me (but they all lead back to you)

"Disneyland?" she asked, surprising her own self at the absolute disbelief in her voice. "Disneyland Paris," he emphasized. "With me. It's your princess day, my lady." Annabeth blinked. "Disneyland?" she asked, surprising her own self at the absolute disbelief in her voice. "Disneyland Paris," he emphasized. "With me. It's your princess day, my lady." Annabeth blinked. What a lovable, lovable human.

read it on Ao3

chapter 1: to those who ask

chapter 2: to whose who wait

chapter 3: to those who gaze

chapter 4: to those who left

chapter 5: to those who went so far away

chapter 6: to those who remain

chapter 7: to those who never saw me

chapter 8: to those who said they would stay

to those left behind

The first time Annabeth ran away from home, she was seven years old.

She didn't remember the reason as clearly as she remembered Helen's unkind words about something she did or didn't do — because she never knew what they were in her father's house — and she escaped the place by jumping through the window of the woman's office. The night was cold and less than welcoming to a child, especially one with so much fear on her face and tears in her eyes, but it wasn't worse than another dinner on a table they wouldn't set with a plate for her, with food she would have to cook for herself.

It was kinder when she met Luke, but even he advised her that living in the streets wouldn't be better than having a roof upon her head. Especially when winter was already ruthless, and the season had barely begun. Luke, Grover and Thalia took her to camp, where she spent the night and the following day, and only then they managed to convince her that the risks of being a missing person weren't worth the peace she had just found there, with them.

So, she went back anyway, and wished she hadn't when no one even noticed she had been gone.

The second time she ran away, it was because she had regretted leaving the camp instead of signing up to stay the whole year. She was nine, and she was absolutely sure that it would take her father at least a month and a half to realize she didn't come back home — but in her childish fantasy, and the wanting to just see if things would magically change, she went back to their house, and ran away back to camp within the first twenty-eight days.

Chiron wasn't one to bend the rules, but he did let her add her name to the year-rounders list, and asked her to not comment on anything. If she didn't mention it, the other campers wouldn't even question, and it would be better than explaining why she had come back or the reason why Chiron let her stay so easily.

The third time happened when she was thirteen, and she didn't think it would happen at all. But her father and stepmother had decided to make an impromptu trip to God-knows-where — she hoped it was the depths of hell — and forgot to remember that she was spending the day out with Grover and Percy. So, when she came back to an empty house, without a note and without a message and without anything at all, she already knew what had happened.

She was left behind, and it was the first time the sadness turned into full-blown anger.

She took everything she remembered ever bringing to the house, and took one of her father's suitcases to fit it all in, and then decided she would ask anyone to have her, at least for a while. She didn't want to bother anyone with having to house a pre-teenager, especially when she did have a perfectly good house to stay in regardless of its other inhabitants, but the hate she felt was something she needed to deal with away from Helen's crystal things and her father's old, historical stuff.

She found herself back on camp, and Chiron didn't ask, that time. Deep down, she knew he wondered why she still went back instead of staying there all year long, and she also knew that he only didn't make the offer out loud because he knew the answer. She wanted things to change, she wanted a chance for them to be better, and her logic didn't quite reach that part of her heart yet.

The last one, she was fourteen, and they were all in the most magical place on Earth, or so they sold it as. It had been a surprise when Helen and Frederick told her to pack her things and join them, but she understood that it had come from Matt and Bobby, who asked her, innocently, which car seat she wanted. Her father and step-mother seemed a bit taken aback, apparently remembering that there was someone else in the house, and Annabeth simply said she didn't mind which one she'd take.

She travelled by the window to the airport, and tried to sink to the seat whenever Helen stuttered before mentioning her name in the middle of the conversations. She was also by the window in the airplane, beside a stranger and her father on the aisle seat.

Annabeth didn't really care about princesses and princes and all, but there was something about being somewhere so colourful and with so much coming straight out of 2D movies that made her skin itch in excitement and her head run overdrive with the want to explore everything. She was young, after all, and there was still a world she didn’t know, and so much she could explore.

Her younger brothers were just as excited, and she tried not to think too hard about it when Helen and Frederick never questioned where they wanted to go, but made Annabeth wonder why she needed so desperately to meet Belle and her yellow dress. She tried not to think too hard about how they had their lunch at the Pirates of the Caribbean's themed restaurant when everyone knew she didn't like eating fish. She completely ignored how they didn't mind stopping when her feet started hurting and still it was fundamental they got to the line to meet Gaston before stopping.

She tried not to think too hard about how the boys got a dozen gifts and characters and action figures and she couldn't get the tiara that shone so pretty over the mannequin's head on the store Helen bought a necklace.

It's a useless thing to have, Annabeth, her stepmother had told her.

You should be smarter. Do you really want something that will be good for nothing, dear?, her father had questioned when she had asked him, instead.

They weren't looking when she wandered far in the airport, or when she started sprinting the hell away from where they were busy trying to fit everything in the cart. They didn't realize she wasn't there, and neither was her luggage, as a kind lady helped her put it all in the trunk of her taxi and she gave the only other address she knew by heart.

Sally Jackson took her in, and let her stay in the spare room for as long as she needed. The writer never asked questions, never raised an eyebrow, never raised her voice. She never made her feel any less than welcome, any less than wanted, any less than loved.

Annabeth only didn't come back to their house when they were both on camp, and her father didn't even bat an eye when she lied about staying at camp the whole year round.

When Percy asked if she wanted to start running with him when Annabeth was sixteen, just to kill time and do more than just lie around and freak out over school and families, she didn't even think twice before accepting.

Because it was something she was good at, apparently; running.

She ran.

She ran.

She runs.

✉

"To whom I left behind.

I'm still not sure what I should have said, or if I should say anything at all. I don't know if you'd be willing to listen, or even if you should. I'm not sure I can see you again without it being too awkward or forced. I think that's weird enough.

I still have your number, but I've deleted the whole conversation. There wasn't much. It pains me, still, that there wasn't much to say. There never was. Just my attempts to be good, to talk to you, to share a bit of who I became without your help. I don't know if you remember or care, but that's okay. Honestly, I thought it would hurt. Maybe it makes me insensitive to say that I didn't feel anything, because everyone says that deleting text conversations hurts. Maybe they're too sensitive.

I don't know why I still keep your number. I don't know if I expect anything to happen, because if sincerity is what I've been working on, I can't visualize a situation in which we'll speak again. Honestly, I wonder what it will be like if we bump into each other in the street eventually. Maybe I should stop thinking about it and change my route. Maybe I should keep walking. Maybe I should hide my face, just as I've been hiding my truths. It's more likely you wouldn't see me.

Maybe you took me the wrong way, but you understood when I explained my whys and wherefores. I know I said I hoped we'd meet again at some point when everything would be a little less suffocating, but I don't know if, now that I've learnt to breathe deeply, I can go back to that same glass dome that gave me a beautiful view, but took away a lot of my oxygen. I don't know if I can; I know I don't want to. I don't know about you.

Maybe I never did.

You have my gratitude, and I hope you know that. I still have you in memory boxes in my old room, and I want you to stay there. Because I've redesigned some things, messed up others and furnished new rooms — and I've slowly been emptying yours. You have my gratitude just as you had my most sincere love, my most honest friendship; and you had all my oxygen in yourself, and I just can't breathe for any other set of lungs.

And, yes. That may sound selfish, I know it may sound ungrateful; forgive me for that, at least this time. This time, which is the only time I won't be the one giving in. I don't know how to deal with things like this, the sincere ones — but I keep trying, and I'm getting better. Ed Sheeran once wrote "and after all I've done, I think I love you better now", and I'm happy to finally be able to sing that line truthfully: I love you better now, because I love you in the past.

And since we've always been about sincerity, maybe I understand now.

Being selfish with you was the most selfless decision I could have made.

Lately,

Minerva."

✉

When Percy took the blaring earphones off her ears, Annabeth could hear the chaos all around them.

It didn't take her nine seconds to understand where they were, for they had gotten to France a few days before and Percy had shoved her inside of a train from Lille that morning without saying a word and incapable of keeping his leg still as she observed the views and the skies from her seat across from him. He looked a lot like a child about to get their favorite toy for their birthday, and it was a look that she knew how to recognize.

On the way to their planned destination, Percy had told her to close her eyes as if she could guess the place for the roads they were taking and wasn't a tourist in a country she had never been to before. Still, she obeyed, and he put on large earphones over her ears — apparently, listening would be too much of a giveaway, but Percy seemed so sure about it that she didn't have the heart to argue.

Now, standing there, she knew exactly why the sound would have been a giveaway.

The sight before her eyes was nothing short of magical, as it was intended to be — a whimsical landscape of towering castles and colourful attractions, all set against a backdrop of lush greenery and vibrant flowers. Everywhere she looked, there were people bustling about, their faces alight with joy and wonder as they eagerly explored the fairy-tale town around them. Her eyes darted all over the place, trying to map everything she saw, and she tilted her head to the side.

Children darted past them, their eyes wide with excitement as they tugged at their parents' hands, eager to experience all the thrills and delights that awaited them, that the whole place promised. Groups of friends and families wandered the streets, their voices mingling with the cheerful cries of street performers and the whirring of carousel rides. Happy tunes played in the speakers around them, and there wasn't a single thing that seemed to be wrong in their surroundings.

"Disneyland?" she asked, surprising her own self at the absolute disbelief in her voice. The smile on her face was something she couldn't quite avoid, and she turned to face him with wide eyes. Percy was smiling, and seemed quite unsure — he knew why she lived with them for a while, and he was waiting to see the full reaction she would have once she absorbed the world around them.

"Disneyland Paris," he emphasized. "With me. The same magical kingdom, but another, and with, if you allow me, mademoiselle — your prince," he bowed with a flourish, and Annabeth didn't know what to say. Her stomach seemed to mirror Percy's movements inside her body, and her breath caught in her throat. "It's your princess day, my lady. I am but your wallet, this day. A rich company that will bend to your will and graces," he said, the pageantry making it all the funnier.

Annabeth blinked. It took her a minute to come to terms and understand everything he'd just dropped on her, and everything the colours and sounds around them said.

"It's your father's money," she said, a bit desperate about the offer. A good offer, indeed, but an insane one anyway. "Won't he think bad of it?" Annabeth wondered, her brows furrowing with worry. That was the very last thing she needed, to have Percy's dad thinking lowly of her.

And, sure; they had been using his money in about ten countries. But a whole day spending it on overpriced Disney things at Disney Paris might perhaps just be the thing that makes him regret his choices and take back the otherworldly offer to live another life while they were away from theirs.

Percy smiled, a bit crazy. Mischievous, at least.

"Not only he knows, but he also suggested it as soon as we got to Paris," Percy explained, laughing. "The perks of a rich man's credit card in one's power, you see. And the perks of him being as widely insane about those he loves, just like his son," and Annabeth did try not to think much of that sentence.

Instead, she chose for the classic ironic comment.

"Oh, well. The apple never falls far from the tree, does it?" she rolled her eyes, laughing lightly as she tried to disguise the absolute whirlwind of feelings happening inside her chest.

"I'm sure Isaac Newton is the one to answer such a question, my lady," Percy joked, winking quickly and so ridiculously that Annabeth couldn't keep her laughter in. What a pathetic joke. What a lovely, lovely man in front of her.

What a lovable, lovable human.

"You're ridiculous," she said back, despite her laughter. Percy's eyes lit up as if her reaction was what he'd planned to get the whole time.

"You love me," he said, and Annabeth wondered if he ever asked himself just how right, and to what extent, he was correct. "Shall we, Your Highness, explore this magic kingdom before our eyes?"

He offered his hand again.

There wasn't a single reality in which she wouldn't take it.

"We shall, my good lord," she bowed her head, and Percy laughed. He laced her arm in his, and couldn't keep the serious façade for longer than two minutes into their walk — he then turned into the lovely, almost childish person she loved to witness, and thanked God she had the honor and chance to know. He pointed everywhere, and laughed alone, and told her the most random stories he could remember about himself, his mother, Estelle or his cousins.

Annabeth didn't think that what made her feel most like a princess in her life was to walk around in the heat, sweating, and with more trinkets in paper bags and inside her backpack and an absolutely manic grin on her face. Her feet were already hurting, and she would often take Percy by the hand to the nearest store so she could stand with her back to the air-conditioning, but Annabeth couldn't care less about capitalistic strategies and marketing plans as her heart felt so, so lightweight in her chest.

They didn't have a plan, as they had decided, from the moment they stepped out of the Jackson-Blofis' apartment, that they would go wherever their minds and Mr. Stormer's very exclusive, very unlimited card could take them. She'd felt bad in the beginning, not wanting to give Percy's father the wrong impression about who she was, but, right then, she'd grown very terribly accustomed to letting Percy buy her anything he thought she might've liked the tiniest bit.

They were in Disneyland — Paris, Percy made sure to highlight —, and she would do herself a favor and allow the very mature adult her very restrained child had grown into to feel (and act, of course) like the prettiest, the dreamiest, the very richest of princesses.

Which, compared to Percy, was a tough thing to do.

His restless behaviour seemed to tenfold as they walked down the streets and followed the screams and laughter to random attractions. With a — very expensive — VIP card of some sort, they never spent a long time waiting in lines, and never stopped searching for the wildest rides they could ever manage to find. For someone so terrified of planes, Percy was the one to convince Annabeth to the most ridiculously tall attractions.

And after screaming their lungs out and losing their breaths on every rollercoaster they could find, the both of them had found it in them that there wasn't a single problem in also enjoying the kids' attractions that could also fit adults. The spinning cups, the very not scary house of horrors that made them jump regardless, the long lines to meet the characters and take pictures with them.

She was sure her cheeks would hurt for days after her muscles worked the extra hours. And she was more than sure that she couldn’t care less.

And, then, when they gave into the power of having his father's credit card in hand, they decided to stroll along the main street, filled with stores and laughter and very pretty, very magical showcases and shopfronts. Everything was extremely glittery and very worked in the 'magical' and 'utopic' aspect of things, and she couldn't like any more than she already did. It felt like walking inside the movies she watched repeatedly as a child, always trying to draw the characters and imagine how the castles and houses would be in real life.

Some of those drafts were hanging on the walls of her office, the lines sure and the dimensions erratic, but something she was proud of drawing when she didn’t even know how to spell “architect” correctly.

And, then, as she was saying something about the historical and mythological atrocity that Hercules was — focus on the entertainment, Annabeth! The romance! — her eyes wandered to a store that made her words die halfway through her lips.

She stopped walking, and Percy faltered a step when he noticed, their arms still intertwined.

read the rest on Ao3

[aimasup]

I can't do this anymore I have to get this out now

Welcome Home but if they were students in like middle school, human or puppet idk

long post warning

Poppy Partridge

she's the class monitor alongside Howdy and a very good one because she cares so much. Almost too much

more stressed about collecting the homework and class fees than the teachers

takes lab rules verrrrry seriously but you could not pay her to even stand next to a bunsen burner

favourite subject is Physics, oddly enough. Knowing how all these unpredictable accidents can be put into numbers gives her some kind of peace.

If something isn't explicitly stated in the instructions she'll wonder if she's missing something in between the lines

she gets made fun of for her troubles :(

Sally Starlet

Keeps getting into the principal's office

Has skipped school so many times and her grades are barely passing

If she's called up and doesn't know the answer she will make one

Is actually the president of a couple clubs and very enthusiastic during cocurricular activities, also a competent leader

Volunteers for so many activities and events. Not for credit, for fun

Rules announced at school talks because of her: No feather duster lightsaber battles, no standing on tables and starting impromptu sing-alongs, no 'grand car tire roly poly racing' down the halls, no broom twirling, no white balloons, etc.

identifies as Poppy's weekly heart attack

Eddie Dear

Exchange student! The mystery is from where. Most people think he's avoiding the answer

Isn't a leader in anything but has gained a reputation for being such a reliable stand-up guy whose flaws are more forgivable

He's a prefect who gets called out of class more than anyone to help with something

He's always so happy to help but then he gets even more late or tired, and his grades are falling behind

If you asked him to share his lunch money he'd gladly do it. with hesitance.

needs better boundaries

Julie Joyful

School's beloved. The kind of student who gets immediate applause when they perform or receive an award during an assembly

Started her own gardening club, grades are in the top few, an optimism that's as baffling as it is infectious

Sneaks gum and random toys into class, somehow manages to style her uniform in a unique way every other week

"psst can I copy your homework? I'll do your nails"

Can make any old cleaning task fun

Best and favourite subject is physical education, which includes games, gym, health, etc. Basically hands-on learning because she gets bored sitting still too long

Has a competitive side that gets wild if left unchecked

Frank Frankly

Number one in grades, always was, always will be

He's organizational, not lawful. Doesn't mind climbing over a fence or two in the name of education

His desk is almost unreal to look at it's so clean. Thinks of ways to solve a task so efficiently you'd think he's aiming to be class monitor (he is)

Though he intimidates people they often ask for study tips. His handwriting is an actual font and his diagrams look printed

Favourite subject is Biology but you wouldn't know because he excels at all of them

Also a prefect. He met Eddie during the orientation

During free time if he's not studying or doing homework exercises, he's sketching or letting Eddie and Julie gather at his table to chat

*raises hand* "uUhm teacher you forgot to assign homewo-"

Barnaby B. Beagle

If Julie gets candy into class he's somehow having whole dinners at the back. There's a rumour his bag can carry a microwave

He makes jokes during class, he balances stationary on his nose, he calls the teachers dude, his uniform is messy, but he's so chill and sweet that he's comfortable to be around real quick

Never pays attention during class. If he's not sleeping he's poking holes in his eraser with a pencil or something

yet he keeps getting decent grades. Teachers do NOT like him but popular among students

Best subject is English, but not everyone appreciates his poetry and essays unfortunately

Wally Darling

There's being well-liked and then there's 'most crushes accumulated school-wide'. It's no wonder because of how nice and helpful he is

Often told he has so much potential and that he's a model student. Basically teacher's pet

He's apparently known as so kind and sweet and gentle and perfect and cute but his friends know he's just a silly sleepy guy

You either love him or hate him, no in between

Best subject is art, his paintings are often posted around the school and he's done a few wall projects

Focuses verrry well in class! Appears so anyways. Head's always in the clouds, such a daydreamer

Also, certain unexplainables noticed about him. Brings one shiny apple every day but doesn't eat it. Leaves school, yes, but how does he get home? He's always the first one in class too, before Poppy. Somehow has all the latest gossip, but he'd never spill a friend's secret :)

Howdy Pillar

Class monitor, next to Poppy. He's just a handy dude

Helps out in the school cooperative selling items, most responsible out of everyone because he can keep a level head for tasks

Doesn't stand out much, originally just wanted to get through the semesters and get the business experience but soon became a social butterfly

Jarringly cheerful under all the work he takes upon himself. His organizational skills rival Frank's. No one knows how he does it

If someone can't afford to pay for something he helps them out in a way that doesn't technically break any rules

Is also the reason their class alone is cleaner than anyone else's. Poppy is the reason no one's dead

[impossiblescissorspeachpaper]

The Heart of a Wanderer IV

Visions

Catch up on the previous part here

A/N: Nope, your eyes do not deceive you- it is in fact the next chapter of THOAW, and not nine months delayed this time! I have my moments, I just beg you to not get too used to it. Would love to hear your thoughts on this chapter- this story has truly taken on a mind of its own! T x

4.4k words.

Her family had thrown her an impromptu welcome home party the night she had returned. It had been wonderful. Amren had come down from her apartment, which was a feat in itself as Varian was visiting, and Mor had winnowed in from wherever she had been for the night, having received word from Rhysand that she had come home.

Somewhat even more surprisingly, Azriel had been in attendance. Before she had left on her travels Azriel had been coming to fewer and fewer family dinners. But despite the distance that had wedged itself between them, she found herself glad that he had come. He should be here, with his family. And although she would never admit it to anyone, she had missed him, even before she had left for her travels. She had had every intention of returning home and speaking to him, laying all her feelings out on the table, but as she always found, her needs got pushed aside.

Overshadowed by louder demands, forgotten in the fray.

Not to mention her cheeks still flamed when she thought about her less than graceful arrival back in Velaris. In Azriel’s bathroom. In his bathtub. While he was naked. Mother spare her. And it seemed no one was willing to let her live it down, either.

To his credit, Cassian had only made two crude comments about the bathtub incident the entire night, Nesta elbowing him in the ribs each time. Azriel, gratefully, hadn’t seemed embarrassed or annoyed about it. He even gave Elain a small smile each time, as if assuring her that he wasn’t perturbed at her bathroom interruption earlier that morning. She had, however, caught him rubbing his temples in that long-suffering way at a quip about wingspans the General had later thrown his way. Even Elain had blushed at that.

Regardless, the evening was all going perfectly fine until after dinner, when several bottles of wine had been consumed and they were all lounging across couches and scatter cushions on the floor of the den, when Rhysand had made an unexpected request.

“Elain, would you be open to…further exploring your powers? They could be a very powerful tool to have in our arsenal.”

Everyone had stilled at that, for she hadn’t really spoken to anyone about her powers, how they worked, or even if she still had them. She did, of course, but for some reason they all tiptoed around the idea as if it would set her off. Elain hated it. She was glad Rhys had brought it up, if only so it would help dissipate the awkwardness around the subject. It was clear that everyone was waiting for her answer on bated breath, the murmurs of merriment around the room silenced as if a rift had opened in the fireplace and all noise had been sucked into its vacuum.

Azriel had stared wide-eyed and somewhat warily at his High Lord, Feyre also eyeing her mate with apprehension. Amren, for the first time all night however, had looked positively chuffed. Rhysand must have discussed this with his second in command, then… or perhaps she with him.

Elain, of course, had agreed. She wanted to be helpful, to use her Cauldron gifted powers for good. To assist with the war against Kochei, despite him being utterly silent for months. Although no one was naive enough to believe he had truly gone. He was a millennia old deathless god; a matter of eighteen months was a woefully insignificant whisper in time in his ageless existence.

But it was the next words Rhys spoke that had truly set her heart to pounding violently in her chest.

“Wonderful. You will start your training with Azriel after he returns from his next mission.”

Azriel’s face, of course, hadn’t given anything away. His calm exterior not shifting in the slightest— unless you knew where to look. Elain noted the slight tenseness of his jaw, the twitch of his left wing, even though his face remained politely passive. He merely graciously inclined his head in his High Lord’s direction.

But… he was trepidatious.

Amren, on the other hand, looked positively delighted, a lupine smile creeping across her face. Elain couldn’t recall another time she had looked so pleased, unless there had been precious jewels involved.

Six days had passed since that night, and no one could tell her for sure when Azriel would return from wherever he had needed to go. So, she had spent her time in her garden preparing it for the colder months. Nyx often joined her whilst his mother and father were busy with meetings or other duties across their court, and he was currently in one of the flower beds, mud caked up to his knees and his fingers buried in the earth.

Elain was digging holes at six-inch intervals to plant bulbs that would look delightful come spring, when Nyx started babbling from beside her, something high in the sky snagging his attention. Elain glanced over to him; his wide eyes glued to the heavens.

“What is it, little batling?” Elain asked gently, attempting to smooth down his unruly black hair.

He pointed a pudgy little finger above him, his wings fluttering in excitement. “Az! Azzzz!”

Elain glanced up, and sure enough, Azriel was soaring high above them, making a beeline for the back door of the river manor, no doubt reporting to Rhysand before bathing and resting after his weeklong mission.

Elain sighed heavily as her gaze followed the Shadowsingers��� path into their home.

“Yep, that’s your uncle Az,” she murmured, bundling Nyx up in her arms and heading inside, resigned to the fact that her gardening was done for the day.

~

Several hours later, Elain found herself in the study at the river manor. Faelights bounced in the sconces that threw golden shadows across the deep navy wainscoted walls. Rows of old tomes and small stone sculptures lined the mahogany shelves, and something called an orrery sat on its own hand carved pedestal beside the large leather top desk.

Elain had settled on the edge of the brown leather couch before the empty fireplace, Azriel standing sentry at the mantle. His hazel eyes gleamed in the dim light, his beauty truly etched into the night, born from it. She couldn’t help but admire him. It had been an age since they had been alone.

In fact, the last time had been that night. The Solstice before last. Her skin prickled as she felt the ghost of his thumb sweeping across her throat, how his skin had radiated such heat when she had stood so close to him, closer than they had ever allowed themselves before…

Elain shook her head and shoved the lustful thoughts that threatened to intrude aside, focusing instead on the task at hand.

She’d been apprehensive about this all week, and as she sat there before the Shadowsinger, her anxiety surged. She didn’t know why all the sudden Rhysand was set on shoving them together. Wasn’t it obvious they had been less than…friendly, recently?

Why did it have to be him? Why couldn’t Amren help her? Or Mor?

Elain had worked herself up so much that before she could stop herself, she blurted the question that had been nagging at her for six days.

“Why you?”

Oh gods. Had she said that aloud? Azriel only cocked his head, his brows knitting together slightly with his confusion.

Elain swallowed, taking a deep breath. A full sentence Elain. If you’re going to be petulant, at least give him a full sentence.

“Why is it you that has to train me?”

She knew she sounded like a sulky child. And before everything, she would have been the most comfortable exploring her powers around Azriel. It had been Azriel, after all, that discovered what she was after the Cauldron had changed her. It had been Azriel that had freed her from the confusion and terror in those first few months she had spent in her new fae body. But now? She felt as if a giant invisible wedge had squeezed its way between them, leeching its awkward energy into the very air around them.

If her question hurt his feelings, he didn’t let it show, only allowing his brow to soften in understanding.

“I suppose, Rhys saw me fit as both our powers are matched, in a way. Two sides of the same coin, if you will. You are shown the future; I am told of the present. Our powers manifest within us, within our minds. It is something only we can hear, can feel and experience. No one else has as much understanding with such powers in this court as I.”

Elain blinked. She hadn’t heard him speak so much in months. She couldn’t help but revel in his voice, spoken in that low timbre, his words like silk caressing the wind on the back of a night kissed shadow. But a part of her still felt impudent, not yet ready to concede to his sound logic and patience.

“Rhysand’s powers manifest in his mind, as a Daemati. And Amren helped him,” Elain countered his point, not yet backing down.

Azriel’s hazel eyes rest upon her graciously, unperturbed by her displeasure at having him as her tutor. Why was he not bothered, like her? How could he be so calm? His voice was still low and even when he answered her.

“Rhysand’s power works in a different way to ours, we are provided information. It seeks us, to divulge in us. We were chosen to carry this burden, no matter how unwanted it may be. Rhys’ power is more… predatory, insidious. His power unwillingly takes.”

Elain simply blinked, again. Fine. He had a point. She had never looked at it that way; their powers… matching. She had never considered for herself that they were similar at all. Shadowsingers and Seers had naturally seemed like two completely different entities, but when he had described it the way he did, it made sense. In a simplistic way of thinking, that is. But something within her seemed to settle all the same, like that understanding had soothed something within her.

Elain sighed deeply. She had to put her discomfort aside for the good of this Court. Her Court. She could do this.

Azriel saw the resolve settle in her expression and pressed on, smiling proudly. Ever the professional with his charges.

“To help you as best I can, I first need to understand more about how your visions work.”

He paced along the facade of the fireplace, dark and unlit, the late autumn weather still mild enough to not yet warrant a fire.

“How do your visions react? How do they feel? How do they come about and show you the future?”

Like your shadows, she thought to herself, somewhat dolefully. The thought had just occurred to her, surely spurred by Azriel’s previous revelations.

Azriel cocked his head, as if he had heard some silent music. She supposed he had, as she noted a lone shadow curling away from his ear.

“Like my shadows?” Azriel asked. “What does that mean?”

Elain startled, a blush creeping up her cheeks. The shadows had told their master of her thoughts? That…should not have been possible.

“What?” Elain spluttered, once she had found her voice again.

“Is that what you said?”

“I didn’t say a thing!” Elain countered. But she had thought it.

Her breath quickened. Oh goodness, she had never known his shadows to have the power to listen to thoughts, but the idea petrified her. “Are your shadows daemati now?”

“No.” He seemed certain, and too calm. In stark contrast, her own heart thundered violently in her ears. “But that’s what they just told me.”

He regarded her warily, his eyes raking over her as if he wished to find the secrets laying within. The secrets that wove themselves intricately all around her. The ones she herself was yet to unlock.

His eyes bore into hers as he asked her the next question. “How do your visions appear to you, Elain?”

Elain attempted to calm her racing pulse, swallowing the lump in her throat before answering.

“I can’t say I have much control over when they appear,” she responded truthfully.

They often came without her willing them. Sometimes appearing as quick as a flash, other times drawn out and detailed. But it was never because she had bidden them forth.

“No. That is not what I meant. How do they look.” He paced back and forth, suddenly unable to keep still like an idea had just sprung in his mind, curious to know if his theory was correct. “Are your visions like a colourful scene playing out in front of you? Are they like words on a page? Are they instinctual thoughts, ideas planted into your mind?”

Elain blushed again. Oh. Apparently, his shadows had told him more than he had revealed, or perhaps he had deduced something on his own accord.

“They— they appear, as your shadows do, actually. Often, it’s just fog and mist, but through the murkiness, shadows begin to… break free,” she started, her hands twisting in her lap. “The shadows twine and dance about, like charades. They construct shapes and figures, until it is like a scene playing out before me. Sometimes they are mere mishappen blurs that I must decipher, and other times, the image is so clear, like peering into a reflecting pond. I— I cannot describe it any other way.”

Once again, she found herself being scrutinized under Azriel’s meticulous watch. He remained silent after her monologue. Usually, she didn’t mind that he erred on the quieter side, but currently his deafening silence was unwelcome and irritating, making her mind tick a million miles per minute.

She felt stripped raw, exposed and wary. Like she had been thrust naked into a spotlight and stared at unabashedly. She never spoke of her powers with such detail with anyone. She herself often preferred to ignore them. And now he stood silent before her, the gears of his mind clearly working at something she wasn’t privy to. It grated on her nerves.

“Will you stop looking at me like that and tell me what you’re thinking?” Elain snapped after several quiet moments.

Azriel seemed to be shaken from a stupor before his eyebrows hitched high on his brow in surprise. He sketched a small bow, his hand coming to rest on his chest in regret. “My apologies, Lady.”

Lady? Lady?!

Oh, he had truly incensed her now. Since when was she ever Lady to him? It had always been Elain. Sure, Nuala and Cerridwen still sometimes called her Lady, but it was a call back to when they had first met, when they first helped her. And from them it was endearing, the moniker bestowed upon her in affection. From him, however? It felt like a cold bucket of water had doused her. Elain felt a heat rise up her chest. Fine, he was going to be distant toward her? She could act like a Lady.

Elain flattened her gaze, throwing her shoulders back and crossed her ankles prudently. Setting her voice to chilling temperatures she had seen Nesta use in the past she uttered, “If there is no purpose to your intrusive questioning, please continue with the lesson. I have other things I need to see to before I turn in for the night.”

This time, Azriel’s eyebrows shot straight toward his hairline. It was the first time tonight he had shown her any form of a real reaction. Elain was pleased, her wicked delight at startling the Spymaster a bitter-sweet feeling in her chest. She didn’t know when their relationship— friendship, she supposed— had deteriorated to cordial niceties but she refused to back down. She sat imperiously on edge of the tufted leather couch, tilting her chin slightly higher, her expression utterly flat as she awaited Azriel’s response.

His hazel eyes grazed over her as he let his shock sink in, his stance suddenly on alert, his shoulder stiffening. “Very well. My apologies,” he murmured.

Elain nodded curtly, indicating with a wave of her hand for him to continue. Azriel cleared his throat, his wings snapping in tight behind his back. A sure sign of his unease.

“We will attempt to will a vision. Considering they usually appear to you unexpectedly. Having the ability to See when you are ready and willing, will be a great advantage to you. As will learning to control them, so they do not impede on you during inopportune times.”

“And how would I attempt to will a vision?” Elain responded lazily.

“Choose something to concentrate on, something near sighted, not too far into the future. Perhaps, who will win this year’s snowball fight?” Azriel supplied with a small, apprehensive smile.

She fought the upward tilt of her own lips as she felt her walls begin to crack. He was trying to soften her, seeing how she had reacted to him calling her by such a formal, impersonal title.

On olive branch, extended. A silent apology. She could accept it, or turn it away.

If they were to spend all this time together, she didn’t want to make it completely miserable.

A corner of her mouth lifted into a small smile. “Very well.”

“Thank you, Elain,” he breathed, clearly relieved.

She inclined her head in acceptance before glancing up into his face again where their gazes locked. And as she stared into his bright hazel eyes, and he into hers, she could have sworn something purred between them. A silent song that could not be heard on their plane of existence. Something charged and yet repressed, begging to be acknowledged, a forgotten connection pulling taut between them.

It felt like eons before Elain was able to tear her eyes away from the Shadowsingers’ face and clear her throat. Glancing to her lap, she stubbornly broke that tense connection. Her fists were bunched in her skirts, and she concentrated instead on relaxing her muscles.

Azriel seemed to have regained control of himself first because she heard his voice next, clearing his throat just once, pushing forward in their lesson.

“Close your eyes, and cast your mind forward, just two months. Think of Solstice time, of the snow, of our family gathered around the fire, swapping gifts, drinking wine. Go into that fog, Elain. Let it speak to you, let the shadows of your visions come forth…”

Elain ignored the hurt that tingled on the edge of her mind, those memories of Solstice that she would rather forget. She instead thought of the ones that had been merry. The laughter, and joy, the warm fire and softly falling snow. She concentrated on Azriel’s voice, the low timbre of it as he spoke. She let it lull her into a place of peacefulness, willing her visions to present themselves to her…

Nothing happened.

For minutes she sat there, with absolutely nothing happening. Had it been minutes? Hours? She couldn’t tell. It felt like an eternity. Azriel’s low voice rang through the silence intermittently, prompting her to do one thing or another when he sensed her agitation building.

She shifted a little on the couch, easing the stiffness that had crept into her muscles, and peeked her eyes open, checking to see if had Azriel remained in the room after a long bout of silence. If he merely hadn’t grown bored of nothing happening and had left. He still stood beside the mantle, patient and sturdy as one the mighty columns that held up the Palaces in the city proper.

“Focus, Elain,” he admonished when he had seen her eyes flutter open.

She snapped her eyes closed again. “I am trying. Nothing is happening.”

“It will take time and practise. Be patient.”

She huffed, “Easy for you to say.”

“Why do you say that?”

She opened her eyes again, rolling her shoulders back, loosening the tension there.

“Half your job is waiting, isn’t it? Spying is basically waiting and listening.”

Azriel chuckled lightly. She found herself leaning toward him. She had missed that sound. That husky laugh that rang out when you knew how to tickle his humour. “In a sense,” he responded.

“How did you do it?” she pressed.

“What, concentrate for longer than thirty-five minutes?” he teased.

She pursed her lips, secretly happy that he was joking with her again. “No. Hone your powers. Weren’t you scared? And— you were just a child. I… couldn’t imagine it,” she trailed off.

The terror he must have felt as a boy, having the shadows whisper to him in that dark cell. She had heard his tale, as heartbreaking and horrifying as it was. Had he too, thought he was going mad?

Azriel’s eyes softened, just slightly, an imperceptible change. But Elain saw it, she knew all his tells.

“At first, I was scared. Of course I was. Anyone would be, Elain. Our powers— yours and mine— are highly uncommon. And coveted. I spent years in my father’s dark cell learning their language, only because I had no one else to talk to. Otherwise, I’m sure I would have been driven mad. You have only come into your powers recently and have done well to make it thus far.”

Elain swallowed. He knew what thoughts plagued her mind. What insecurities ate at her subconscious. Useless. Weak. Naïve. Words that had followed her most of her life. The harsh voice of her mother twisting each word like a knife in the gut. The words still haunted her long after her mother’s passing, springing up sporadically in cruel reminder.

She nodded again and settled into the plush couch cushion once more.

“Good,” he praised, seeing her steel her determination. “You can do this, Elain. Focus your thoughts. Cast your mind forward, just two months from now, to the winter Solstice.”

She did. She lowered her shoulders away from her ears, slowed her breathing, closed her eyes.

And once again, nothing.

That mystic blanket of grey mocked her. Just a hollow, murky realm. Empty, ominous fog swirling languidly as if it sensed her humiliation. As if it relished in her failure.

That is, until the shadows that sang to her emerged from the depthless haze, snaking into an unexpected scene before her eyes…

Ivy. So much ivy. The insidious vines twisted and twined up an exterior wall. A grand manor. One she had not seen before. Brambles of thorns lay at its base like a moat, an unkept rose garden left to overgrow and die surrounding the manor’s perimeter.

It was so…sad. Such a beautiful place left so destitute and unkempt. The flowers that had decorated the estate were long gone; the same fate evident for any inhabitants that may have once lived there.

The ivy whispered in its secret language, crawled along the walls, darkening the windows, creeping over the entire abandoned mansion. It had been so grand, once…

A hound appeared. A great bloodhound. Its paws the size of saucers, bounding from the north-east, its fur a tawny rust.  More followed, seven. Vaulting in as quick as the first, menacing teeth bared, gnashing at the vines, crashing through the thicket as effortlessly as is if they were running through stalks of wheat.

The hounds’ black claws sunk into the ivy-covered manor.

Destruction.

So much destruction. Everywhere those hounds went, devastation followed. The manor shook. Cracks fissured the facade, cleaving the stone walls into thousands of tiny sharp pieces.

The once living meadows beyond decayed, rebirth giving way to death.

Red. So much red. Even though she did not See in colour, she knew everything was red.

Elain’s eyes snapped open, the cloud clearing from her irises as her breath rattled from her chest. She panted as if she had been running for hours. But she felt cold, her skin clammy as a thin sheath of sweat coated her face. Her hair had stuck to the back of her neck.

“Elain, what did you see?”

His voice was steady.

Azriel was crouched before her, his hand grasping hers, the scars on his fingers almost white with the force he gripped her with. She hadn’t noticed. Hadn’t heard him walk across the room to her.

Her chest rose and fell with her harsh breath, her eyes blinking slowly, her mind still reeling itself from that foggy, delphic void.

“I— I think there will be an invasion against the Spring Court.”

“By whom.”

He didn’t question her information. He believed her, trusted her visions completely. Trusted her completely.

“Doesn’t the Autumn Court army keep hounds?”

Azriel’s eyes flashed, the icy hatred in them glowing.

Wordlessly he gripped both her hands in his and helped her rise to her feet. Wrapping an arm around her shoulders, he allowed his shadows to swarm them, their dark caress taking hold as Azriel lead them into the void.

~

Azriel had winnowed them straight to Rhysand where he had been holding court in the Hewn City, dealing with the hateful steward of the underground metropolis. Azriel had removed his arm from around her body before they had completely stepped out of shadow, forcing a few inches between them. The loss of contact only made the underground grotto appear even colder, darker, more hostile. Elain tried not to shiver, not to show any sign of weakness in the company of any Hewn City inhabitants.

They had appeared in a chamber Elain had never seen before. Rhys sat at the head of a long, obsidian stone table. Keir sat on his left and a few other noblemen were seated along the sides of the table when Azriel and Elain had materialised at the other end.

Azriel had merely stared coldly at Rhysand, ignoring Mor’s father completely, no doubt some silent discussion passing between the Illyrians before Rhysand dismissed Keir coldly without another glance.

The blonde male glared her way, bristling, muttering beneath his breath before standing from his seat to exit the chamber, the others following suit. Elain had no idea how someone so hateful could sire someone as warm and kind as Mor. Azriel stiffened beside her, turning his hazel gaze onto Keir for the first time since they had arrived. The steward threw Azriel a look of disgust before the heavy door clicked shut with finality behind him and his ilk.

“Elain,” Azriel started as he turned toward her, his face instantly warmer, his shoulders softening now that any unwelcome folk had left. “Repeat everything you just saw, please. Spare no detail.”

*******

taglist:

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[spgothkidsheadcanons]

Think about it. Michael but in tight black leather pants

It wasn’t specified if this is NSFW or SFW, but I’ve decided to go with something funny. Because I have, unfortunately, had the pleasure of trying to put on leather pants, and by the end of even putting them on, I was gasping for air and pouring sweat 🤣

Also, writing this made me feel so claustrophobic for some reason 🥴

SFW/NSFW

Warnings: None

~~~~~

Michael huffed as he laid on the couch, exhausted from trying to get dressed for his latest show. His fingers hurt from trying to pull on his leather pants, and his eyea closed as he cursed the tight clothing material he almost had pulled on all the way. Sweat beads dripped down his cheeks, and he couldn’t help but laugh at himself for his little misfortunate predicament he was in.

As he layed there just catching his breath and trying to regain the strength to finish the job, 3 soft knocks sounded at the door, and he just loudly groaned to let them know to come in. Twisting the handle, you stepped into the dressing room, a bag of food from the nearby take out place hanging around your wrist. You giggled as your eyes landed on Michael, causing him to turn his head to give you a glare. “It’s not funny. I feel like I’m trying to put on a second skin right now.” Michael groaned once again, lifting his hips to tug the pants up further.

“Actually, it’s very funny, but also my heart breaks for you,” you said, setting down his pre-concert dinner, “And you’ve made a whole lot of progress since I left, so that’s good.” you finished, walking over to the couch he was laid on. It was true. When you had left to go get dinner, Michael had them pulled up to just above his knees, and he was cursing already at just that. Now the waistband sat at the top of his thighs. It was like the light at the end of the tunnel for the man.

Holding your hands out to him, you gave him an expectant look. The rockstar stared at your hands before rolling his eyes, grabbing your hands with his own. You pulled him up towards you, almost falling backwards when he stumbled forward, not quite able to move his legs to steady himself. “Brace yourself, babe. We’re gonna get these damn pants on you if it kills you,” you joked, looping your fingers through the belt holes. “They damn near feel like they’re killing me already,” Michael quipped, placing one hand on the back of the couch and the other on your shoulder.

On the count of three, you muttered an apology as you started pulling the cursed leather fabric up. A grunt left your mouth as you gritted your teeth. The pants gave a little after a moment of tugging, and you were able to successfully pull them up another inch or 2, stopping and admiring your handiwork. It was almost there, another 3 or 4 inches and you’d be done. Michael breathed out a shaky “shit”, and then chuckled at the whole situation. “If your butt wasn’t so big, it’d be easier,” you teased, reaching behind him to squeeze his backside.

“Hands off the merchandise, (N/n). Now help me get these up so I can eat.” Michael pouted, hand leaving your shoulder to smack at the hand that you had assaulted him with. You shot him a sweet smile, getting into position to tug the pants up the rest of the way. Counting to three once again, you used all of your strength to get the unstretchy leather up, and finally, they were sat on his hips, right where they needed to be. Michael was quick to fasten them while you kept hold of his belt loops, and as soon as they were zipped, you released the belt loops, breathing a sigh of relief.

“Fuck these are tight,” your curly headed beau groaned, bending his legs to stretch out the leather as much as he could. “Yeah, but you look great in them,” you reassured, walking to the bag of food. Poor Michael had no choice but to stand, the leather unrelenting no matter how he moved. “Thanks, love,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to your temple before digging in. “You’re welcome,” you hummed, enjoying your impromptu dinner date before he had to go on stage.

[mostbored69]

Hearts on an Envelope (Sylus x Reader x Xavier)

Sunday night. Monday tomorrow, sensically, and the all too dreaded workload that awaits the second you set foot into the office gnaws at the back of your mind. Sylus knows this all too well, and he especially got the hint from you groaning into the phone when he called earlier today, but it had no effect on his charms and schemes to get you to come over. Little bit of guilt, a tiny hunch about his indifference possibly causing some trouble for you at work, and it all came down to him still not caring enough. Because tonight, a much needed conversation is due.

You sigh as you hesitate in front of the big mansion he lavishly calls home. The sun had set on the way here, which gave it over to the moon now cascading down onto every nook and cranny. Had this been just the night before, its beauty is sure to be behold. There’s something about the N109 Zone that makes its light so much more annoying, but to give it the benefit of the doubt, Mephisto cawing in the near distance does add to making this scene as irritating as it is. The little crow rustles its metal wings. You sigh, once again.

“I’m coming, I’m coming. Goodness, Sylus, you impatient idiot,” you mumble at no-one but the little bird. It stops cawing the second you ring the doorbell, and soon enough those two henchmen welcome you inside. Wearing their masks, business as usual, it’s still easy to hear out Luke and Kieran’s smug grins when they speak. You don’t mind them, however, as they walk you to the big door at the end of the corridor. Maybe this impromptu rendezvous could be cut short if you choose your words wisely. Whatever there is to say on his part, it could’ve easily waited for a much better time anyway.

The two men wait for their master’s confirmation before opening the door, and in the big dining hall, sitting and sipping his wine at the head of the table without a care in the world, sits Sylus. He wears the button-down that’s always rubbing you the wrong way. The elegant black fabric is embroidered in red patterns, giving him a bloody look from all angles. Though he often gets blood on his clothes, you never quite figured out why he decided to preempt the inevitable stains for whatever sense this man has in fashion. He looks good, however. Business as usual.

“What is it? If you just wanted to have dinner with me, we could’ve done so last night.” You cross your arms while he motions for the men to close the door, leaving the two of you alone with only the unnecessary long dinner table as the only hurdle for your fingers around his throat.

“Grumpy on the phone and grumpy in person. There’s really no winning with you. Now sit down and be civilized, sweetie,” he coos before setting down the wine glass. It’s never been an easy task to make deals with Sylus, let alone get him to change his mind, so instead of pouting up a storm right where you stand, you decide to do so on one of the chairs to his side. Once sat, he gives a small grin. That stupid, stupid grin that makes your knees buckle. “An impatient idiot isn’t exactly what a good little guest should be spouting about the host, yet there you stood complaining instead of just coming in.”

“That little-“ Your eyes search for the nearest window, where Mephisto already caws in defense. “Yeah, right. How can such a tiny creature be this big of a snitch?” Sylus awaits your attention patiently with a smile, and although the table is full of extravagant dishes from all sorts of cuisines, his plate remains empty. Only the wine makes it to his lips.

“Good little guests also don’t start arguments with the birds. Unless you crave my lecturing, that is,” he taunts after snapping his fingers in a successful attempt to catch your eyes. In essence, how he’d treat a dog. “Very good. Now eat, sweetie, lest you want the food to get cold.” His hand gestures to the different dishes in a sweeping motion, but you hesitate nonetheless. Getting here took its time, and you indeed have not yet eaten dinner, but it would be worlds better for him to spit out whatever he has to say and grab a sandwich on the way back.

Although, the smell is too enticing. He watches keenly as your slender fingers move to fill your plate, almost relieved in a way now that your presence is guaranteed for at least a longer while. As the cutlery clinks, otherwise silence spreads throughout the room. Even Mephisto holds its tongue - if it was still present in the first place. The crow blends in well with the night, and only your reflection stares back when you look up to check.

“Could you tell me the matter please? I’m pretty exhausted, Sylus, the way back is no joke either.” When he fills your glass with wine, you follow his lead and sip on the deep red liquid. The rich flavor lingers on your tongue longer than expected. It’s no secret he chose a mature bottle to open tonight, or any night for that matter. A lavish man, and his lavish tastes.

“No need to worry. If you’re really that exhausted, spending the night here could be a great solution, no?” At his words, your head tilts to the side. The initial impression of his ‘joke’ is soon washed away when you realize he’s truly serious, but even if he had been teasing, it’s as good as impossible to not let it fluster you. A reaction he seems to hold dear by the smile slowly returning. “As for my agenda,” he continues, using his Evol to grab a brown envelope from the distant counter. It lands in his hands effortlessly, and your confusion only grows when his fingers begin unwrapping the string from the button. “Kitten, are you going around hunting bunnies?”

A cold shudder runs down your spine and forces goosebumps all over your skin when he gets up from his seat. His proximity is electrifying, almost threatening. Especially when he stops behind you, only the rustling of paper to be heard. Especially then, does your heart skip a beat.

“What do you mean, Sylus?” You put down the fork in your slightly trembling hand, but no way in hell are you able to muster up enough courage to turn around and face him. The skin of your neck feels dangerously exposed when the envelope grazes against it. Maybe he noticed, and maybe he cares, because his tender fingers soon find their way into your hair and undo your bun. He lets it cascade over your shoulders before brushing it out of your face. Closer yet, he moves, all to whisper in your ear.

“Darkness alone can’t hide you from my sight. I have eyes all over. All over you.” With that, he drops the envelope. The contents now revealed on top of it, pictures upon pictures all in a broken pile glance back at you together with the stone-cold recognition of last night. Memories from a personal time, a secret time. Memories that in no way should’ve been captured, from what looks like CCTV stalking the hallway. The grainy, black-and-white footage of your front door, and you, opening it with a wide smile. Welcoming Xavier.

The next picture is stomach-churning material of your kitchen window and the silhouettes behind the sheers. You seem to be close, that night. Would some call this a close friend, and is it something that needs explaining? The words are stuck in your throat, and you can’t bear looking through the pile after the sight of only two makes the blood rush to your face. Sylus is kind enough to spare a moment of silence, although his fingers don’t stop brushing through your hair in a touch that is just a little too tender. Dangerously tender - you can feel it in your stomach.

“What… what is this?” With a raw voice and reddened cheeks, you finally turn your head albeit slowly. His hands return to his side and he leans against the wall to cross his arms. A red flicker is seen in his eye, brighter in color than the imitative blood of the embroidery, and when that predatory smirk grows on his lips, all the implications of this confrontation wash over you in another ice-cold shudder. Your reaction is enough to admit guilt. He’s got you where he wanted you; pinned and at a loss for words.

“You wanted me to get to the point, and believe it or not, this is the point.” The two of you have known each other for not the longest amount of time, and although admittedly that time was filled with intimate moments that steal your sleep some nights, you’re not quite sure what he expects from this blatant presentation. The chair screeches when you get up, but doing so is the only way to get some distance between the pictures and yourself. “You’re not a stray kitten, are you now? Looking for a home and an owner still?”

“What exactly do you want me to say, Sylus?” Your fingers fidget by your side and it takes considerable effort to look him in the eye. He may be a dangerous man. Deadly, even, although you’re sure of his boundaries when it comes to you. However, when he pushes himself off the wall and leans into your face, you can’t help but shiver at the red glow.

“Did you have… fun?” He lets the word linger on his tongue to drag it out fully, while his tone reveals the bold amusement behind it. Unadulterated mischief gleams from his eyes as if he was enjoying every second of your unsure expression, and needless to say he’s fully aware of how uneasy the whole conversation has made you. Letting it affect his plans, however, is a different story.

You look off to the side. What is there to say? And how could you twist your answer to not further complicate things? Sylus values honesty, especially coming from you, as much as it’s clear that a half-assed lie not even good enough to fool Mephisto could make it past his vigilance. A straightforward answer to such a question would still not sit right with you, so averting your gaze is the best you can do. That is until his fingers grab your chin and force you to look at him. The grip is not tight, and if you didn’t know any different, it might’ve been gentle. That deceiving gentleness is easily exposed by the way his guise shifts to a darker look, and how his smile slowly fades the longer you’re forced to keep his stare.

“Kitten, no answer is an answer in itself. Now tell me how you played with that little bunny. Did you chase after it, have it for dinner?” Another silence follows. Any response at all would make your voice crack and dignity diminish into thin air. A full debacle without any way to start cutting losses; a full, proud win in his books. Distracted by this confrontation, you don’t notice how his free hand moves slowly. “Hm. I guess we might have to ask him ourselves then.”

The second he’s done talking, time speeds up for only you. He’s quick with it. You fail to even feel the phone being yanked from your back pocket, and it only dawns on you when he sits back down at the head of the table with it in hand. Spreading his legs comfortably and pursing his lips, he turns it on and begins scrolling. It takes a whole while for the shock factor to loosen its grip on your muscles, but even when you rush to his side, any efforts to try and yank it back would be in vain. “Sylus, stop. Please, I can explain if you really want to hear, but don’t drag him into this. He’s my friend.” Begging could work, since it’s him you’re dealing with. This time, though, he only raises an eyebrow at you.

“Friend? You’re getting quite imaginative, sweetie. Does a friend bend you over like that? If so, we’d be best friends long ago, and you wouldn’t scratch and meow like a dirty, dirty stray.” The way he uses the nickname he’s given you for downright degrading measures makes your stomach churn, reaching the limit when tears begin burning in your eyes. It’s not like you and Sylus have tied the knot, and the same thing can be said about Xavier, seeing as you’re yet to have a conversation with him that would justify such anger.

“This isn’t funny, Sylus. Don’t be childish and just tell me what you want me to do. If I hurt you, I can leave and you won’t have to see me again, but teasing me like this is unreasonable.” It becomes increasingly harder to hold back the tears and keep your composure, which is almost a mundane task when your voice reveals it all. He tilts his head. For sure now, how he’d treat a dog.

“Shh, there’s no need to cry. If you think that little bunny can hurt my feelings, you’ve surely forgotten what kind of man I am. Now come here, my dear, it’s just a normal conversation.” Whiplash doesn’t begin to describe his continued changes in tone, how his voice melodically promises a false comfort, and it causes his now outstretched hand to be subject to your scrutiny. He notices your reluctance instantly. No matter his growing desire to just grab and tame without waiting for approval, it’s clear now that such methods don’t work when he’s trying to get you to speak. So instead, he waits until you finally relent and take his hand, letting him guide you onto his lap. Before he continues, he puts your phone on the table. “There you go, what a good girl you can be. Is it really that unreasonable to ask about your day? I just want to know who you played with, kitten.”

The goosebumps from earlier return when he nuzzles your neck and takes a deep breath, but it’s nowhere enough for your body to relax in his arms. His free hand positions your legs and drapes them over his own before letting his fingers inspect the exposed skin - the act alone makes you curse such hot weather for having settled on wearing shorts. You wipe your eyes. Tired, confused and anxious, once was not enough to dry them.

“X-Xavier…” Your answer is lured out by a simple peck on the cheek, as naive as you are. He’s stopped in his tracks for only a second. After the second is over, his caress continues like his body had not heard your response, whereas his mind surely took it in. The featherlight touches of his fingers on your legs travel ever so slightly upward when it is now your turn to hide in the crook of his neck. Stupid, maybe, but what else could you possibly do with this tenderness but to fall just a little deeper into his arms, accepting whatever deception he so kindly offers?

”Xavier, huh? Then tell me, what did you and Xavier do?” A voice this soft couldn’t possibly have another ace up the sleeve, at least you can tell yourself that much. Maybe just a couple more answers and he’d let you calm down in his arms silently. “Did he play with you nicely, yeah?”

”Yes… we shared some snacks and he’s very… gentle.” His chest rumbles when he chuckles at your demeanor and words, but you don’t pay it much attention. Already humiliated enough, it is now none of your concern.

”Not the word I would expect you to use, but sure, let's go with gentle.” While not far from the truth, Xavier does tend to lose himself in the heat of the moment - by that you mean he could occasionally get rough with his pace and intensity, which happens more often than not - but that is not exactly something you’re thrilled about sharing with Sylus. Either way, by the sound of it alone, he probably knows this tidbit already. Grabbing your chin to pull you out of hiding, all he does is smile.

”He is, very,” is all you manage to whisper. His voice is sweeter than even Sylus’ now, and his words make you wish to never be without his embrace. Those soft blue eyes speak to you the most, especially when his eyebrows are furrowed and sweaty and he can’t stop moving his hips. The desperate sounds that fall from his lips without a thought present, harmonizing with the sound of skin slapping against skin that he himself cannot control. But no matter how sweet, maybe, just maybe, you lie awake dreaming of the moments he grips your hair for harder thrusts, or bites your shoulder to deal with the sensation, or when he grabs onto your ass tight enough to leave a mark, simply because his own strength has slipped from his mind together with all decency. Together with his sweetness.

Sylus moves closer to your face, successfully stealing back your momentarily divided attention. He’s not a big fan of you being distracted when he alone is what you should focus on right now, although he can’t help but find that little absent-minded look on your face, that makes him wonder what depravity you’re thinking about, endearing. That’s no issue, however, because soon, he’ll make you forget even your own name.

”Hm… why do I fail to believe you, darling? Well, tell me then, how gentle was he exactly? Like so?”

Full version on AO3 (linked). Please enjoy, have a good day and stay safe!

[seas-of-silver]

Adrien had definitely expected a lot of new experiences when he started working at Tom and Sabine's bakery, but accidentally setting the bakery on fire was not one of them.

Adrien had definitely expected a lot of new experiences when he started working at Tom and Sabine's bakery, but accidentally setting the bakery on fire was not one of them.

In the wake of his career as a teen model ending - a decision he was all too happy he made - Adrien quickly realised that he was free to do whatever he liked... problem was, he had no idea what interested him. Sure, fencing was fun, piano was enjoyable when he wasn't forced to perfect pieces that no one would hear, and being a superhero was grand, but... that was it. He wasn't an elite fencer like Kagami. He didn't have aspirations to make music his whole world like Luka. He couldn't be a superhero full-time, or he supposed he could, but he knew how isolating a life like that could potentially be - especially with all the identity rules and secrecy. So, Adrien was stumped.

His lack of direction left him feeling melancholy, and on one such day when his mood had taken a plunge, he ambled over to Marinette's. Marinette was an amazing friend, who somehow always managed to cheer him up, as though she was his personal lucky charm.

He entered through the bakery door and was greeted by the heavenly aroma of baked goods. He took a deep breath, inhaling the inviting aroma, relishing in the way it felt like a warm hug welcoming him home. Mrs Cheng, from behind the counter, smiled and greeted him kindly before calling out for Marinette. Marinette burst out from the room behind the bakery in a chaotic rush, flour dusting her forehead and apron, the latter also decorated with smears of coloured icing.

'Adrien!' she said, surprised, before smiling at him. 'H-how are you? Are you getting some pastries?'

It was mind-blowing how a simple greeting instantly made him feel better. He returned her smile.

'Hey Marinette, I was just wondering if I could talk to you, but you seem busy, so-'

'Not at all! I mean, we're going to be quiet until the lunch rush hour hits, so we can talk!' Marinette reassured. 'Maman-'

'Go on, dear, your father and I can hold down the fort,' Mrs Cheng said.

They hadn't made it beyond the bakery kitchen. As Marinette was leading him through the kitchen towards the staircase leading to the family home, Adrien halted. His gaze had been caught by the tray of gorgeous looking cinnamon scrolls Mr Dupain was glazing. He couldn't help but ask Marinette and her father some questions about the pastries, which led to an impromptu baking lesson, which led to him helping out until they shut for the day, which led him being invited to dinner as a "thank you", and only then did Adrien finally have his conversation with Marinette.

'I just feel so lost,' he told her. 'I've always been told what to do, having everything dictated by others that now that I've got this freedom, I'm just... drifting aimlessly.'

'Why not just try new things?' Marinette suggested. 'Don't put pressure on yourself to commit, or to be the very best at it, but take the time to explore things that you like, that your interested in, and if it works out, then great! If not, then that's okay, just move on to the next thing.'

Her words made him feel calm, and her proposed plan sounded simple, achievable. But he was at a loss for where to start, and told her as much.

'How about baking?' she asked. 'You did amazing today, and you looked like you were really enjoying it. Plus, Papa was telling me that you took to it like a natural!'

He had enjoyed himself, though he wondered whether it was the baking itself or the bakers he was surrounded by. After some more discussion with Marinette and her parents, he was brought on as an apprentice.

Being a baker wasn't an easy feat, but he did like a challenge. The first time he helped unload a delivery of flour made his admiration for a baker's strength grow immensely - he struggled with the big, heavy sack that threatened to make his knees buckle and elbows give way, causing Marinette to rush over and scoop the bag effortlessly out of his arms with a gentle smile and walk it inside the bakery, calling out a promise to help him with the next bag; his knees did buckle after that. He made mistakes time and time again, but instead of being berated, he was kindly taught what should have happened instead. He had many baking sessions with Tom (as he was told to call him) and Marinette, and occasionally Sabine tutored him in cooking meals.

It was hard work, but it was rewarding. Even Nathalie had commented on how happy he seemed lately. It also helped that he was growing closer with Marinette, their friendship improving with every visit to the bakery.

He had been working at the bakery for about a month when he went in for his Saturday shift. He had been filled with an excited, nervous energy since he had woken up, eager to get the bakery as soon as possible - he had decided today was the day he'd ask Marinette on a date, and he was anxious for her answer. It was only when he arrived that he remembered she said she would be spending the day working on her design for the competition his father had just announced that week. His spirits dampened slightly, but resolved to ask her after his shift - he could hold out for a few hours.

He had just finished making a loaf of sourdough, and was prepping it for the oven when he heard his name.

'Adrien?' Marinette's head was poking through the doorframe, cutely hiding the rest of herself behind the wall. 'Are you busy?'

'Uh, no,' he answered, pausing in his prep to give her his full attention. 'What's up?'

'I was just wondering if you could give me some feedback on my design for your father's competition,' she said. 'I need to know what you think of it so I can figure out how well it meets the criteria.'

'Sure!' he agreed with a smile. Marinette's designs were always awe-inspiring, and he was eager to see what she had created this time.

'Okay! Let me just grab this real quick!' She ducked behind the wall, and Adrien moved speedily. He quickly ripped a sheet of paper off its roll to cover the metal tray, dumped the loaf on it and shoved it into the oven, closed the oven door, washed his hands and rapidly turned to face her. She emerged from the doorway, and Adrien's breath hitched.

She was in a Grecian-style dress of a pretty pale pink. The fabric was being held at the shoulders by lovely floral clips, her hair was beautifully done in a decorative up-do, and while the design was simple, she looked ethereal.

'Marinette, you look- you're a goddess,' he said, all the strength gone from his voice, so the words came out in breathy tones. Her cheeks became as pink as her dress as she looked down, smiling shyly.

'Th-thanks, Adrien,' she stammered, before meeting his gaze again with a sparkle in her eyes. 'In fact, "goddess" is exactly what I was looking for! The theme of the competition is to connect the past to the present, and so I took inspiration from the Ancient Greek goddess, Thesis - the goddess of creation. And even though the Miraculous are rumoured to be ancient, they are a massive part of Modern Paris and current events. And considering Ladybug's powers are that of creation- uh, according to Alya! Um, so I thought I'd combine Thesis and Ladybug and create an outfit based on the powers of creation!'

He was blown away by her ingenuity. His heart fluttered.

'That's amazing, Marinette!' he exclaimed. 'So is this the final product?'

'Not even close!' she responded excitedly. 'This is a peplos - an Ancient Greek style dress, and typically the material was patterned and colourful, so I'm debating between hand-painting or embroidering floral and ladybug motifs onto the fabric to further the references to Thesis and Ladybug. And these clips here are prototypes I've made, and I'm tossing up whether to keep these or make new-'

Marinette cut herself off, eyes wide before yelping, 'Adrien! The oven!'

Adrien turned around to see an inferno blazing inside the oven. He made some kind of panicked noise before rushing to the oven door, opening it- only for Marinette's hands to push the door closed again.

'Don't!' she cried.

'But the oven's on fire!' he squeaked, trying to open it despite her efforts otherwise. 'We have to do something! We have to put it out!'

'We can't open it!' she retorted. 'Keep it closed and it'll run out of oxygen and die out. Open it, and everything burns down.'

Adrien froze, still gripping the oven door handle, but not making a move to open it. Marinette was right. It was simple science - remove one of the three components a fire needs, and the fire will stop.

'I heard a commotion, everything alright?'

As Adrien turned to Tom, who had just entered the kitchen, he accidentally pulled the door open with him, and flames jumped out of the opening. He hastily shut the door again and rapidly backed away from the oven, not willing to repeat his mistake.

'I just put the sourdough in the oven and I was just- I only looked away for a moment! And suddenly it was on fire-' Adrien babbled, flustered and overwhelmed as the reality of what could have happened sunk in.

Tom's gaze shifted between him, Marinette and the oven, and after a moment, he gave Adrien a soft smile.

'No harm, no foul, but let's be more careful next time, okay?' Tom said calmly, and Adrien nodded stiffly. The man approached the oven and peered through the door at the flaming mess inside.

'What paper did you use on the tray, son?' he asked, and Adrien's mind drew a blank.

'Uh... I can't remember, sir, I... got distracted,' Adrien admitted, helplessly glancing quickly at Marinette. Tom followed his glance, and his smile grew wider.

'I see,' he commented, seemingly amused. 'Well, I reckon you used the wax paper instead of the baking parchment - wax paper, while useful, isn't good with heat, so it never goes into the oven. Baking parchment is far more suited to heat, and while it may brown at times, it won't go up in flames. Understand?'

Adrien nodded numbly. 'What about the sourdough?' he asked weakly.

'An unfortunate victim of learning,' Tom answered with a shrug. 'Make sure its sacrifice wasn't in vain by remembering this lesson, alright?'

'Yes, sir,' Adrien replied, abashed.

'I thought we broke that habit, son,' the man chuckled. 'It's Tom, remember?'

'Yes, sorry, Tom,' replied Adrien, the light tease bringing a small smile to his face.

'Much better.' Tom then turned to Marinette. 'Now, cupcake, I know you were excited, but save distracting Adrien until shift is over, hmm? I need his eyes in his head and jaw off the floor while he's in the bakery, okay?'

Marinette's face bloomed into a bright pink in embarrassed confusion as Adrien groaned and buried his face in his hands. He almost burned down her family's bakery because he was completely and utterly distracted by her like the romantic fool he was, and now Tom and possibly Marinette knew the real cause of the whole kerfuffle. How was he supposed to ask her out now?

~/~

Ask game: Give me the first sentence and I'll write a short piece for it!

[manybcdthings]

JUNE 8th - 15th: SWEDEN

Oskar, Felix, Isabella, Madisyn & Henrik

@dxrkenedheights @rviner @wilddwcrds

JUNE 8th

Felix, Oskar, Madi, Bella, and Henrik arrive in Sweden.

There are many uncomfortable silences between Felix and Oskar but Henrik's presence helps ease the awkwardness between them and the two manage longer conversations than they have done for weeks.

The group reach their apartments in the evening and have dinner together, though the conversation consists of small talk and tense atmospheres.

JUNE 9th

The group travels an hour to Strängnäs to visit Greta and Karl.

Bella opts to wait at a nearby coffee shop, growing concerned as the visit stretches longer than expected.

Greta and Karl are unexpectedly pleasant, engaging deeply with Madi and Henrik which feels strange to Felix and Oskar.

When Felix broaches the topic of family history, Greta's eerie calm response about the charmed notebook raises more questions than answers. She takes the book from him, stating how it was always supposed to be as close to Hanna as possible.

Madi discreetly retrieves the book as they leave and Oskar notes how Karl's reaction was stranger than Greta's, as if he was expecting a different response from her.

Felix suggests visiting the graves of Hanna and Lars, but they return to Stockholm with Bella for Henrik's sake.

JUNE 10th

Tensions boil over at breakfast as Madi accuses Oskar and Felix of lying to her about the family given Greta's initial welcoming and warm nature towards her, feeling robbed of potential connections.

The argument between Oskar and Madi is tense, with uncomfortable feelings shared from the Kennedy witch before she leaves. Bella follows and attempts to console Madi.

Felix and Oskar's argument escalates. Felix comes to Madi's defense and the two of them end up touching on deeper family fractures. Their confrontation only ends when they realize it has distressed Henrik, but no resolution is reached between the brothers.

Plans to visit the cemetery go awry with the group going their separate ways for the rest of the day.

JUNE 11th

The strained group reconvenes in the morning and drives to Köping to locate Hanna and Lars' graves. Felix, lacking his magic, stays behind to watch Henrik.

Madi, Oskar and Bella discover a neglected crypt where the notebook's gemstone begins to glow. Encouraged by Oskar, Madi is able to tap into her magic, leading to a breakthrough between them.

They return to Stockholm to read the book with Felix, revealing disturbing truths about their family's use of abyssal magic, the deaths of Greta's siblings and how she furthered the practice against her own children.

This discovery leads to them learn that, while Agneta is cruel in many other ways, she ended two generations worth of abuse and abyssal magic.

Bella helps navigate these revelations, prompting heart-to-heart conversations and apologies between Oskar and Felix and also with Madi.

JUNE 12th

The group continues to grapple with the shocking family history and desperately need a day of reflection. Bella and Felix spend time with Henrik to allow Madi and Oskar a chance to reconnect.

Felix shares his conflicted feelings about his mother with Bella, and the conversation ties into discussions about their future.

Felix later calls Nina to tell her everything that has been revealed from the book and this prompts reconciliation between her and Felix.

Madi and Oskar spend the day with one another resembling a father and daughter for possibly the first time.

The day ends with the group reconvening, their first moment of real connection during the harrowing discoveries.

JUNE 13th

The group travels to the Ranström estate in Gudmundrå, visiting Anna who lives in one of the homes on the land but she remains indifferent about their arrival.

After a short visit, they return to the main estate to relax. When Henrik is asleep the evening turns into an impromptu dinner party with wine, games and singing.

Many drunken heart to hearts are shared, one of them where Oskar admits that he could have been a better husband to Thea and the group stop him from drunk calling and texting her.

The night ends, late, with Felix and Oskar sharing a rare, heartfelt hug which then prompts Madi and Bella to join before they all go to bed.

JUNE 14th

The group struggles through a day of hangovers, made worse by Henrik's early wake-up. They return to Stockholm but the simple journey to the city is constantly interrupted by Felix and Oskar needing restroom stops.

Back at the apartments, they all spend the day in recovery and there's a lot of groans and grumbles. This becomes equally as amusing with everyone sending Henrik back and forth between them so they can all nurse their headaches and groggy moods.

Oskar teaches them all his hack of wearing a white t-shirt and drawing a road on it so Henrik can use his cars on the back as a relaxing massage. They all fall asleep while watching a movie in Oskar's apartment and decide to order take-out instead of cooking.

JUNE 15th

The group arrive back in New York in the evening, reflecting on the trip filled with revelations and disturbing discoveries.

Oskar cancels his work schedule for the rest of the week, calling Thea to make arrangements so they can spend time as a family with Henrik and he also makes plans with Madi.

Felix rearranges Bella's work schedule after the emotional labor she's put into the time away, giving her a few more days out from work so she can recharge.

They're all much closer than when they first embarked on the journey, but each of them are aware that it's only just the beginning of true changes being made.

[dragonologist-writings]

Title: Black is the Color Fandom: Pathfinder: Wrath of the Righteous Rating: T Status: One-Shot Main Characters: Knight-Commander Piper Chanterelle, Arueshalae Ships: Piper/Arueshalae Additional Notes: Mutual Pining, Angst, Song Lyrics Word Count: 1.7k Summary:

Arueshalae tends to struggle with knowing what to say. Piper usually knows exactly what to say, but she doesn’t know how to say this.

read below or here on ao3

Drezen is full of pleasant spots which provide ample opportunity for people-watching. Arueshalae quickly learns them all, and just as quickly she finds that the tavern is her favorite.

There are many reasons she could give for her choice. The dim corners of the tavern make it easy for her to linger without attracting attention. The customers are usually in good cheer and eager to fill their nights with friendly chatter and laughter. Crackling fireplaces and the smells of dinner wafting from the kitchen create a welcoming atmosphere.

Plenty of reasons, all of them innocuous. But there’s one that sticks out from the others: the tavern has proven itself to be one of Piper’s favorite haunts.

Arueshalae doesn’t like to admit to herself just how impactful that last reason has become. If she did, she’d have to admit just how close to temptation she’s continually placing herself. But it’s a harmless habit, really. She’s only watching people come and go, only watching as Piper plays music for the gathered citizens. So long as she’s only watching, she’s not hurting anyone.

All she has to do is keep her distance.

She keeps her distance tonight, as she watches the tavern-goers mingle from her spot in the shadows. Piper is here tonight as well, sitting on the edge of the makeshift stage constructed against the eastern wall, plucking thoughtfully at the lute in her hands. Arueshalae isn’t the only one watching her; others in the tavern send her constant sidelong glances, likely hoping the Commander will step onto the stage for an impromptu performance.

Piper pays them all little mind. Her attention is on the strings beneath her fingers and the words hummed under her breath.

“Black is the color…” she pauses, then plays the line again, pitching her voice higher than before. “Black is the color…”

Arueshalae watches, spellbound by the movement of the bard’s lips. She also wonders, distantly, if she isn’t intruding upon something she shouldn’t. It’s not quite that she thinks Piper would mind; she’s told the Commander how she spends her time, and all Piper did was laugh and tell her not to get caught.

It’s just that for once, Arueshalae thinks she might want to get caught, to talk to Piper and hold her attention instead of merely watching. The desire is a dangerous one, and one Arueshalae should know better than to entertain. Still, she hovers on the edge of action, and she has almost decided that it’s something she can handle when the tavern keeper moves in before she gets the chance.

“Evening, Commander,” Fye greets Piper cheerily. “You planning on playing tonight? Between you and me, I hope the answer is yes.”

Arueshalae edges closer to the conversation, pulling her spell of invisibility tightly around herself as she listens in. Piper gives Fye a cheeky smile and replies, “And why is that? You wouldn’t be hoping to take advantage of my popularity to make a little more coin, would you?”

Fye doesn’t miss a beat- he throws his head back and says with a laugh, “’Course I am!”

Piper chuckles, too. “Good. I’d be offended if you didn’t.” She tosses her hair as she gives the stage a speculative glance and says, “I might get up there in a bit. I’m just trying to figure something out right now.”

“Well, if you do figure it out and treat us to a show, there’s a free drink in it for you.”

“Always so generous. I’ll consider it, I promise.” Piper waves Fye off cheerily, but as he turns away her smile fades and her attention returns to her work.

She keeps strumming at the lute, her murmured words growing louder and more frustrated. “Her face is like…no.” She chews on her lip a moment, then replays the melody. “So sweet a face…and gentle hands…”

Her voice trails off as she considers the verse, finally giving a slight nod. “Better.”

She continues on, plucking out the melody with practiced ease. Arueshalae watches, transfixed; it had taken so long for her to appreciate music in the way mortals do. Music like Piper’s, full of hope and inspiration…it simply doesn’t exist in the Abyss. Arueshalae had never known what she was missing. Now, she could listen to it all night.

Piper, however, seems less enthused with her own work.

“I wrote her these words, just a few short lines…” she sings, and then stops herself short. She huffs and shakes her head, laying the lute down at her side. “Screw it.”

It’s the disappointment on Piper’s face that finally brings Arueshalae out of the shadows. She doesn’t even know what she thinks she can do, but…maybe she can help, somehow. She lets the invisibility fall away, and she drifts to Piper’s side.

“What are you figuring out?

Piper starts at the sudden voice, but her silver eyes brighten when she catches sight of Arueshalae. She laughs and tosses her hair, and-

And it almost looks like she’s blushing. But that must be a trick of the firelight.

“The verses for this song that’s been rattling in my head,” she says, patting her lute. “It’s not going very well, I’m afraid.”

“What do you mean?” Arueshalae moves a little closer and sits on the stage with Piper, still a few careful feet away. “I thought it sounded beautiful.”

“You really are too kind. It’s a work in progress- the lyrics are, at least. The music comes easily most of the time, but lyrics…lyrics are trickier.”

“Really?” Somehow, Arueshalae can’t quite believe that. “You always seem to know just what to say.”

“Usually,” Piper admits. “It’s harder when…”

She stops herself, and in the following quiet her eyes trace over Arueshalae’s face. There’s a familiar desire in that look; Arueshalae knows such things well enough to recognize it. She can’t begrudge Piper those stirrings, not when Arueshalae’s entire nature is intended to act as a temptation. Arueshalae does, however, wish things could be less complicated. She wishes she could trust that those feelings are sincere, and not forced upon Piper through some product of her inescapable abilities. She wishes she could trust herself enough to say she would never push far enough to find out.

Every time she thinks that maybe she can, she slips up. Like now, when she blinks and realizes she has edged closer to Piper without realizing it, and they’re now sitting mere inches away.

Arueshalae gasps- she can’t help it- and pushes herself away once more.

Piper notices. The light in her eyes dims ever so slightly, though her smile stays in place. “Anyway…I’m not making any more progress tonight. I should probably stick to more lighthearted tunes for the time being. Would you want to stick around and listen?”

Yes. “No, I should- I should go.”

Arueshalae curses herself as she stumbles through the words. She came over here to make Piper feel better, and now the bard just looks disappointed all over again. But she can’t stay here and keep staring at Piper all night, not if she wants to keep the vows which she’s made to herself.

So Arueshalae pushes back against the regret and the guilt, and with a stuttered goodbye she flees back to the shadows.

Piper keeps working on the song late into the night. After a while, she moves into her room, away from the crowds and the noise and the people who look at her like she’s a Commander even when she’s belting out bawdy drinking songs.

The stars twinkle outside, and she lounges on a chaise by the window as Aivu snoozes in her large canopy bed. She knows she should get some sleep, but she can’t stop turning different words over on her tongue, trying to find the phrases she needs. Arueshalae is right about one thing- she’s usually good with words. But this is harder.

It’s harder when it’s real, she’d almost said earlier that night. She’d even almost started playing what she’d written, right then and there. If it was anyone else, she would have. She would have turned on her smiles and her charms, and the night may not have ended with her brooding in her room, with no one for company save the small slumbering dragon.

If only it was anyone but Arueshalae.

Piper sighs and starts the song yet again, the familiar lyrics rolling off her tongue and vibrating out into the night air.

“Black is the color of my true love’s hair…”

This would be so much easier if Piper could woo Arueshalae as she did any other woman. This would even be easier if Arueshalae returned none of Piper’s interest, and Piper could allow herself to move on to someone else.

She should move on anyway. It would be for the best. Piper’s not the type to get tangled up in something so heavy, nor is she the type to chase after the romantic dreams that are better off left in her stories and her ballads. Peddling the tales is a grand way to make a living, but acting like they’re real is no way to live.

Especially since one slip on either of their parts could end Piper’s life completely.

The song continues playing out under Piper’s fingers, her soft notes of music hanging loudly in the empty room.

“I’d write her these words, just a few short lines…”

Piper’s not some lovesick fool. She knows better than that, a lesson learned the hard way. Flirting is one thing, but she has enough sense and self-preservation to know when to cut and run. Especially with a succubus, of all things.

So why can’t she stop herself now?

The music pauses as Piper lingers over the words. She’s been playing with the song all day, switching out lyrics and verses, but there’s really only one way it ends. With a weary breath, Piper returns her fingers to the strings and plays it out to the end.

“…and suffer death ten thousand times.”

Maybe there’s still a little lovesick fool in her, somewhere. Maybe her odd wound opened that part of her heart up again, the same way it dug into her flesh and her veins. Maybe that’s what Arueshalae sees, when she looks at her with more affection and trust than Piper knows what to do with.

Maybe this whole thing will be the death of them both.

[mr-nauseam]

Practice 15

Interview with the vampire Au

Tw: LGB is here a sex worker and Coriolanus can't handle it well

.

Lucy Gray tried with all her might to ignore the piercing gaze that Coriolanus Snow was giving her. And he from his corner didn't understand why he was here following in her footsteps, when their relationship had been dead for years, and to his chagrin he now knew that the brilliant artist he once knew was now a common whore. 

Her talent and beauty wasted in this club, no matter how much she tried to maintain her non-existent dignity, she was a decadent flower, in a colorful, threadbare dress, waiting for the highest bidder to take her to a room. Maybe he wanted to be the one to buy her, but the thought was intolerable, a Snow would never stoop so low.

Before Coriolanus got tired of his wine-drinking charade, Baird's table was approached by a young man with curly brown hair, a cream-colored suit and a muscular back. Who with a certain shyness in his movements took the empty seat opposite her. 

He hated him immediately, for believing he could possess her, and a hole opened in his stomach, noticing the way Lucy Gray relaxed her shoulders, and gave him a sincere smile, she seemed to really like him. Snow could no longer maintain his facade of disinterest, he felt the urge to go talk to her, to ruin her chance to sleep with this guy. Or rather, doing her a favor, prevent Lucy Gray from further disgracing herself like that.

Without thinking he gets up and heads for that table, Baird immediately sees him, she had also been watching him silently, and tenses her whole body, when confrontation is inevitable, blue eyes meet golden ones, the tension is almost electrifying, and before they break the silence, Sejanus Plinth does it first. 

“Coriolanus!” He calls to him cheerfully. 

Snow is thankful that there is no longer blood in his body to color his face a reddish hue, for the shame of having taken so long to realize that the foolish and scheming heir with whom he conversed the night before and had given him one of the most spectacular welcomes to a city, was Lucy Gray's client.

He pulls himself together quickly and greets him as if he's happy to see him, doesn't stop Sejanus from offering him a seat with them, and delights a bit in the torturous thoughts of his old love, who would rather be anywhere else in the world, than at an impromptu dinner with the cruel man who abandoned her years ago and a pure-hearted saint. 

A saint who had blood money, and had made his father's ammunition and gun business more fruitful in a couple of years than it had been in decades. A saint who could threaten someone with a fucking sword in the eagerness to save his delusional friend. Baird was clearly still not a good judge of character, and at her vague responses, Coriolanus decided to pay her no mind. 

The boy who was desperately thinking how much he wanted to like him seemed a much more interesting prospect.