#I FINALLY WROTE IT

[everystephoftheway]

Hi!! May I ask for 'Pulling you aside from an incoming force preventing you from colliding with said force.' with Vaxleth please? (Keyleth is canonically clumsy and Vax 1000% has to steer her out of danger all the time XD)

sorry it took me ten years to respond to this! and bc it's been ten years i don't remember which list this prompt came from lol I set this in the Camp Cloudtop universe ^_^

Vax wasn’t much of a fan of the green market that sprouted in the center of town every Yulisen, but Keyleth loved it and, well, he loved Keyleth. It wasn’t that he hated vegetables or local artisans; there were just…so. many. people. He was used to staying to the sides, keeping an eye on everyone where no eyes could find him. Emon was safe enough, but the crowds at the green market were large and condensed, perfect ground for a smooth pickpocket (he would certainly know). 

Yet, his girlfriend–his outdoor-loving, friendly, curious girlfriend–wanted to be down the center street every time. “There are new vendors every week!” She threw her arms up to emphasize her point as they walked toward the closed streets in the center of town. “I’d hate to miss out on one because we’re walking behind everything.”

Vax couldn’t quite argue back; his reasons of paranoia and safety would simply get an eye roll and a gentle squeeze of his hand, a promise that she wouldn’t let anything bad happen to him. He lingered behind Keyleth as they made their way into the crowded beginnings of the market. The long street was lined with stalls selling everything from farm goods to armor to weapons to crafts. The food stalls always had the longest lines; today a vendor selling hard candy had the customers’ attention, and Vax flicked his chin toward the curving line.

“Let’s come back to this one. The line will be shorter later.” 

Keyleth nodded in agreement and continued walking, but her eyes stayed fixed on the stall where an older gnome was stretching long ropes of melted sugar, shaping and creating the candies right in front of everyone. 

“Keyleth!” Vax’s eyes, never fixed on anything but her, reached out and pulled her back by the straps of her long dress so she bumped into his chest just in time to avoid a collision with a gaggle of kids running right at them. 

His hands didn’t leave her waist where they had secured her even as the kids ran past, none the wiser to the crash they almost caused. 

“Slow down!” Vax called after them–the camp counselor instinct ripe and quick–but his attention was brought back to Keyleth as she pulled his hands away. “Are you okay?” 

“Yeah,” she breathed, cheeks flush with embarrassment. “I didn’t see them coming at all. Sorry. I should pay better attention.” 

Vax shook his head. “They are the ones running through a crowd like a bunch of morons. And I’m happy to be your eyes in the back of your head.”

With a smile, Keyleth leaned down and gave Vax a sweet kiss. “Thank you. We definitely need to come back to this stall, though. The candy looks amazing.”

“Mm.” Vax finally looked over at the candy being made and he gave an agreeing nod. “It does look pretty good.” 

He only looked for a moment before his eyes fell back onto Keyleth, their hands intertwined as she began to lead them forward through the crowd. She managed to keep her eyes on the heads in front of her for about thirty seconds before her focus was drawn to a stall with beautiful silk work. Vax simply chuckled to himself and started to watch for any other impending collisions. 

[infinityinakiss]

ava is the daughter of the president of the united states and beatrice is the princess of wales. after being involved in international pr incident, these two have to fake a friendship in front of the entire world.

or 

the red white and royal blue au

chapter 1 excerpt:

“Hey, Aves, isn’t that Princess Beatrice? The love of your life?” Camilla looks up from her leaning tower of salad and points to something behind Ava. Ava doesn’t even dignify her words by looking at where she’s pointing, instead choosing to be incredibly focused on the blanched asparagus dirtying her plate.

“Not the love of my life.”

Lilith takes a slow sip from her wine glass and then hands it over to Camilla, a smirk threatening to overtake her whole face. “Right, she’s actually your rival, nemesis, the bane of your existence. I can come up with more if you have the time.”

“You’re both so dramatic. It’s nothing like that.”

“Then what is it?” Michael says, “Because you’ve had some sort of weird rivalry with her as long as I’ve known you.”

Ava sighs, resorting to downing her entire glass of wine in one gulp. “She’s just so fucking perfect, with her freckles and her eyes and her stupid fucking prissy clothes. Who does she think she is?”

“The princess of Wales?” Camilla offers.

“Exactly. She thinks she’s so important when actually her personality is about as vibrant as cotton bed sheets. I don’t understand why the whole world’s obsessed with her. God forbid they look past the perfect veneer and realize that she’s actually a piece of shit.”

“Poetic, Ava. Really. Are you sure you’re not in love with her?” Lilith says. Camilla lightly smacks her forearm, and it is very clear that they’re both trying to hold back their laughter.

“You know what? Fine.” Ava stood suddenly, catching herself before she accidentally tips over her chair. “I am going to go up to Beatrice and hold a civil conversation with her.”

Michael looks at her with wide eyes. “Are you sure that’s the best idea? You’ve had 4 glasses of wine.”

“Three glasses.”

“Four.”

“It doesn’t matter. Alcohol can’t stop the patented Silva charm.”

“Ava,” Camilla says, voice softening. “You don’t have to prove anything to anybody.”

“I’m not proving anything. I’m just having a friendly conversation. Later, skaters.”

[onlyprincey]

Lost Sunshine: Fragments of Loss

warnings: mourning, character death, hurt no comfort (yet)

mentions: @auggient

-------------------------------------------------------------------------

August was dead.

It was a beautiful day when the news was broken to him.

A person approached Princey with a hesitant expression, their eyes filled with sorrow and sympathy. They opened their mouth to speak, their voice trembling slightly as they broke the news.

"I'm sorry...found... Auggie... gone.."

Truthfully, most of their words didn't register in the 19 year old's head, only a select few words actually processed, and as the implications laid out, the words hung in the air, heavy and unbearable, piercing through Princey's heart like a thousand sharp needles.

Princey's blank stare met the gaze of the messenger, his mind struggling to process the devastating blow. For a prolonged moment, silence hung between them, the weight of the truth threatening to crush Princey's spirit. The other person shifted uncomfortably under the weight of his unreadable eyes, the pain and disbelief reflected in their own expression.

Suddenly, a grateful smile tugged at Princey's lips, his façade of composure barely holding together. "I see, thank you for letting me know." His voice betraying none of the anguish that clawed at his heart.

As he stood by his yard, the world seemed different somehow. The sun still shone brightly, casting its warm glow over the familiar surroundings. The birds chirped a beautiful melody from somewhere in the tree with the swing he had built for his family.

How could everything appear so normal when his world had shattered into a million irreparable pieces?

He quickly turned around, his steps growing heavier. Turning away from the sympathetic gaze, Princey retreated further into the sanctuary of his home. The once welcoming abode now felt cold and desolate, echoing the hollowness that had consumed him. He closed the door behind him, shutting out the world, yet unable to escape the relentless grip of reality.

Denial settled within Princey like a familiar companion, wrapping him in its deceptive embrace. He couldn't bring himself to accept the reality of August's absence. It felt impossible, inconceivable.

August was his little brother, his baby bird, his sunshine, his fledgling.

They were supposed to be together, sticking by each other's side like they always had ever since they were kids. This couldn't be the end. It just couldn't.

August was actually dead, it had turned out. The bird hybrid didn't want to believe it, but the enderian hybrid hadn’t come around yet, hadn’t left his basement, hadn’t come banging on Princey's trapdoor in the middle of the night demanding entertainment and clinging to him.

Days turned into weeks, and Princey found solace in the numbness that denial provided. He busied himself with trivial tasks, the mundane routines of his daily life. He collected more resources, ventured out almost daily to the most daunting places to get the things he didn't truly need, and came back to hand out his findings to his family members.

But behind his facade of composure, a storm brewed, threatening to engulf him in its relentless fury.

He avoided the spaces they once shared, the memories too painful to confront. The swing in the tree stood abandoned, a haunting reminder of their laughter and carefree moments. Princey couldn't bear to look at it, the weight of guilt and regret crushing his spirit.

The nights were the worst. Alone in his bed, Princey's mind would wander to memories of August. He would recall their adventures, their secret jokes, and their dreams for the future. The tears that had been held back during the day would spill forth, silently staining his pillow as he clutched onto the fragments of a life that was no more.

But even in his grief, Princey couldn't escape the tendrils of guilt that wound their way around his shattered heart. The last time the brothers ever truly had a conversation was before his son's wedding. They had shared a heartfelt moment, the younger confessing to him about the fear of going to sleep due to the transportation to another place, and the older promising to protect him.

And then he blew everything up. He doesn't remember what happened. He just remembers staring into August's eyes with a chuckle as he plays the music, before noticing a look of fear, panic and betrayal on his face as he flew back with Clover and Sap.

Ever since that day, their relationship had been strained. They couldn't look each other in the eyes, and often they'd find themselves in awkward silenced whenever they encountered one another, which led to the two eventually just avoiding seeing each other altogether to avoid the obvious need for communication about what had happened.

Princey had planned to apologize, to sit down and have a proper talk with him. He had everything prepared, planned everything out perfectly to ensure he was ready for every possible outcome.

Nothing would've prepared him for the death of his younger brother.

He questioned himself now endlessly, tormented by 'what ifs' and 'what could have beens". Had he done enough? Could he have protected August? The weight of responsibility bore down on him, threatening to break him completely.

As the weeks turned into a month, the denial slowly began to crack. Reality seeped through the fissures, piercing Princey's fragile armor. He couldn't deny the truth any longer.

His sunshine was gone, and no amount of denial could change that.

And so, one lonely evening, Princey found himself standing in the home they had shared. The walls whispered their shared memories, the shelves lined with tokens of their bond. He reached out to touch a photograph, his trembling fingers tracing the contours of August's smiling face.

A wave of sorrow crashed over Princey, his denial crumbling like sand through his fingertips. The dam he had erected to hold back his grief burst open, and he broke. His cries echoed through the empty room, his anguish reverberating off the walls. He wept for the loss, for the void that could never be filled, apologies falling from his lips in a desperate flow of heartbreak.

"I'm sorry..

I'm sorry..

I'm sorry sunshine, please,

please come back,

I'm sorry.."

In that moment, Princey allowed himself to feel the depth of his love and the weight of his loss. The denial had served its purpose, shielding him momentarily from the unbearable pain. But now, as the truth consumed him, he surrendered to the devastation, knowing that only through acceptance could he begin to heal.

And so, Princey wept, his tears mingling with the memories that lingered in every corner of his home. The world outside continued to move forward, oblivious to the torment that consumed Princey's soul. Time marched on, but for him, it stood still, frozen in the moment of August's departure.

Princey's grief became a silent companion, never leaving his side. The weight of guilt pressed upon him like a boulder, eroding his spirit with each passing day. He tormented himself with relentless questions, replaying every interaction, every word spoken, searching for the signs he had missed. If only he had been more attentive, more present, more upfront, braver, perhaps he could have protected August from the cruel hands of fate.

The once vibrant halls of his home echoed with emptiness. The swing in the tree hung still, a poignant reminder of the laughter that would never grace its seat again. Princey's footsteps grew heavier, each one a reminder of the absence that haunted him. Every corner held memories that simultaneously brought comfort and anguish, amplifying the ache in his heart.

Alone in his home, Princey retreated into the depths of his pain. The world outside continued to move, but his world had shattered into a million fragmented pieces. Friends and loved ones offered their condolences, their well-intentioned words falling on ears that heard but couldn't truly listen.

How could they understand the magnitude of his loss, the guilt that gnawed at his conscience?

In the solitude of his grief, Princey allowed himself to remember. He delved into the treasure trove of memories he had shared with August. The playful moments, the dreams they had woven together, the unconditional brotherly love that had bound them. Each memory felt like a bittersweet embrace, offering solace and breaking his heart all at once.

The realization of August's absence settled into Princey's bones like an icy chill. The denial that had provided fleeting respite now betrayed him, exposing him to the full force of his grief. It was in this vulnerable state, in the depths of his anguish, that Princey understood the fragility of life, the transient nature of joy. He yearned for one more chance, one more moment to hold August close, to flick his forehead every time it poked him, to grin widely with warmth at the exasperation of his younger brother towards his jokes, to sing him to sleep with his guitar, to tell him how deeply he was loved.

And so, Princey sat amidst the remnants of their shared life, the remnants of his shattered heart. With each passing day, the cracks in his façade grew wider, the weight of his grief threatening to consume him. He clung to the fragments of hope, seeking solace in the memories that remained.

[sercphs]

Cradle time.

[wr0ngera]

@monstersmuses , based on this.

" god, la is perfect this time of year, " gem can't help but enjoy the warmth of the sun, the beaches, the escape from nyc. she's grateful the shoot had brought her here, not only because of the weather, but because of him. she's currently on his balcony, taking in the sunshine when she hears him coming behind her. gem turns around, a smile on her lips. arms loop around his shoulders and head tilts to the side. " you had such a long day on set. do you have any energy left for me tonight? " she teases, pressing a soft peck to his lips. " we could skip the party. stay in and have some fun if you want... "

[ivorydragoness44]

Fanfiction Sneak Peeks

Next week: The Reader wants to share the news of their pregnancy with their partner Horst, but will he understand their creative way of giving him the information??

Upcoming:

Theodore Groves

[k0nstanta]

>MEOW

Play as a robot catgirl named K0tya who is trying to help her Master locate the missing lab rats (ignore the fact that said Master's forgetfulness is the reason they are missing in the first place).

Explore the research facility that you live in and find those missing critters before the morning shift starts, or your Master gets in trouble.

Contains swearing and suggestive language.

Made in RPG Maker 2003.

>>> DOWNLOAD HERE <<<

[hansoeii]

It's about who.

[mrghostrat]

you've had too much of the digital love you want everything live, you want things you can touch you want something bizarre, old conceptual cars you want girls dressed in drag, you want boys with guitars you go ask your questions like, "what makes a man?" oh, it's 2020 so it's time to change that so you go make an album and call it dreamland

(au: spending his 50th birthday alone in lockdown forces semi-retired rockstar crowley to face all the thoughts he normally buries with distractions. when he realises all his life regrets are just confusion around his sexuality, songwriting his feelings is the only thing that seems to help, but he doesn't have the understanding to figure it out on his own. even though they haven't spoken since graduation 30 years ago, crowley knows his old school friend aziraphale is the one person who'll be able to figure him out)

[rafey-baby]

trinket

rafe thinks his maid is just the sweetest little thing...  

prince!rafe x maid!reader 

c/w: rafe being a menace, him flirting (?) w her, some royal cameron family angst ig, brief descriptions of him having sex w another woman, 18+ mdni!

wc: 2.3k

also this is by no means historically accurate which is why i’m not gonna name any specific era for this xx

moodboard & introduction

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Every mid-December, the palace comes alive in an entirely novel way with the bustling preparations for the annual winter ball that the king and queen host to celebrate ‘another wonderful year’.

The once quiet and calm castle transforms into something colorful and vivid with the mouthwatering smell of cakes and pastries cooking in the ovens of the royal kitchen, along with maids and other servants whirling around the long hallways as they place intricate decorations and shiny ribbons all over the broad staircases and windows. 

She’s grateful she doesn’t have to partake in the hustle and bustle all that much since her primary duties include taking care of the prince and ensuring he has everything and anything he could possibly need.  

Although right now, she sort of wishes she could be stringing up polished ornaments or garnishing elegant baked goods because apparently, being the prince’s personal maid sometimes means sitting quietly in his bedchambers (as per his request to keep him company while he’s reading) with her own thoughts and the sounds outside the door her only source of entertainment.  

Therefore, she’s elated when he suddenly turns to face her in his armchair— flitting his eyes over to her from the hefty book that seems to have made him exasperated rather than enthralled.  

“Will you join me for a walk? All this noise is makin’ m’head hurt.”

There’s enthusiasm in the nod of her head; a yearning to see the fresh layer of snow covering the trees and painting the entire kingdom with its powdery whiteness— the aftermath of last night’s blizzard. She doesn’t think there’s anything more beautiful than the crystalline snowfall glittering under the touch of the afternoon sun— or maybe a certain pair of aquamarine eyes, but that’s beside the point.  

“That would be my pleasure, Your Highness,” she easily agrees. 

“How many times do I have to tell you how much I despise that name? There’s no need to use it when s’just me,” he scolds her before he’s straightening up and stretching out his arms over his head. 

“My apologies, it’s a habit,” she rises to her feet as well; trying her hardest not to let her eyes linger on the sliver of his stomach peeking out from underneath the silky fabric of his shirt. 

“I don’t want your apologies, want you to use my name,” he says before stepping closer— standing tall before her and forcing her to blink up at him in order to meet his eyes. “Go on, sweetheart, say it,” he practically orders; eager eyes fixed on her face.  

She hesitates under the sudden attention. He’s always seemed so fascinated by her and she doesn’t know why.  

“Um…Rafe.”  

He lets out a hum of approval. “That’s good. You ready to leave?” 

“Y— yes, uh, Rafe.”  

“Good job. Not so difficult, is it?” he coos at her almost mockingly— fingertips grazing the skin of her cheek when he tucks a loose tendril of hair back behind her ear. 

She merely shakes her head— a warmth dusting over the apples of her cheeks when his touch lingers on the side of her face afterwards. And for a moment, she thinks she’s going to drown in the lagoons of his eyes, but then he clears his throat and offers the palm of his hand for her to take.  

And it’s rather unusual for someone of his status to do; a prince who’s bound to wear the crown one day holding his maid’s hand isn’t exactly something that’s written in any book regarding the royal etiquette. However, he’s never been one to allow for dreadful rules and traditions to dictate his behavior, especially not towards her.  

- - - - - - - - - - - - - -  

“Are you looking forward to the winter ball?” she asks when they stop by the stables to check up on his horse, Jupiter.  

“You know I hate dancin’,” he mutters out as he watches its teeth grind on the carrot he brought with him.  

She smiles because she does know, before letting out a wistful sigh. “I wish I could attend.”

“You do? Why?” he’s perplexed by her enthusiasm towards something he considers as more tedious than anything— having to plaster on a smile for an entire night and socialize with people he doesn’t necessarily care for in order to humor his father never being something he’s particularly taken delight in.  

Especially when Sarah is going to be the one receiving all of their father’s attention anyway. Not that he cares (he does) but he would appreciate it, if for once in his life, his old man would show him even an ounce of the care he seems to so easily shower his sisters in.  

“Well, I’d love to wear a ball gown, but mostly for the food,” her feather-light voice brings him back to the moment.  

“I’ll make sure to bring you a plate ‘n you can eat it in my room then, yeah?” he promises as he runs his fingers through Jupiter’s black main.  

“You would do that?”  

“If you promise not to tell the other maids or they’re gonna accuse you of gettin’ special treatment,” his tone is playful. 

“They already do that,” she points out. “They think we spend too much time together.” 

“And what do you think?” he asks, genuinely curious. 

“I don’t mind. I quite enjoy your company,” she answers truthfully. After all, she has grown quite fond of Rafe throughout the years. Sometimes she just wishes he wasn’t so overwhelming, in every sense of the word. 

“Yeah?” a smirk pulls at the side of his mouth, seemingly pleased with her answer. 

She’s certain he’s well aware of the effect he has on her— the effect he has on everyone. And she thinks that he enjoys it; relishes in toying with her for his own amusement simply because he can. He can practically do anything he wants since his father is oftentimes gone for long periods of time; fulfilling his duties for the kingdom and whatnot.  

And she knows Rafe doesn’t particularly mind the fact that his father is rarely home because he’s always been hard on him, much harder than on his sisters because whether he likes it or not, he’s set off to be the new king one day. And his reputation of having female guests over more often than not whenever his father is away doesn’t necessarily help with gaining his approval.

After all, rumor travels fast around the palace.  

Rafe once admitted to her that he often felt like a disappointment, and that the pressure of everyone’s expectations sometimes made him wish he was nothing more than a stableman. After all, he does get along with horses better than he ever has with his family— it’s not exactly a secret amongst the royal court.  

“Would you wanna go for a ride with me? Think Jupiter’s gettin’ bored,” he suddenly asks.  

“Oh, I would love to but I’ve never, um, ridden a horse before,” she timidly admits. 

“No? You wanna know how it feels? You could jus’ sit behind me, don’t need to do anythin’, yeah?” he coaxes her to say yes with a seemingly sincere smile; already walking Jupiter out of its stable and leaving her no choice but to follow them outside.   

“Really?” the frosty air causes a shiver to crawl up her spine when she eyes him, hesitant.  

“Mhm. Promise nothing’s gonna happen, I’ll take care of you. ‘N I know you’ll like it, s’very freeing,” he assures her as he’s already saddling up the horse, seemingly aware that she could never refuse him of anything.  

“Okay...if you insist,” she tentatively agrees with a nod that he rewards with a beaming grin; the icy snowflakes sticking to his hair making him look like something straight out of a fairy tale.  

Then, he’s lifting her up to straddle the entirely too big of an animal that sort of still scares her— strong hands gripping onto her hips and leaving her momentarily starstruck at how effortlessly he does it; as if she weighs nothing more than the carrot Jupiter was just chewing on.  

He follows soon after, settling down in front of her with ease before looking at her over his shoulder. “Need you to hold onto me unless you wanna fall,” he instructs, seemingly reveling in the fact that he gets to be the one teaching her something new.  

“Oh, yeah, of course,” she says, gingerly setting her hands on his waist, movements uncertain.  

“Gonna need you to hold on tighter, promise I won’t bite,” he huffs out a laugh before he’s grabbing her arms and wrapping them around his middle more firmly— forcing her to fully lean against his back when the sudden clip-clopping of Jupiter’s hooves against the snow-covered cobblestone causes her to let out a surprised shriek.   

“Good?” he asks, seemingly amused at the way she’s practically clutching onto him as the cottony snow prances around them. 

She manages out a hum, wondering if he can hear her poor heart loudly thumping in her ribcage when he decides to pick up the speed some more, as if she wasn’t already terrified.  

“Rafe! Can you slow down?” she squeaks out when Jupiter seems to only accelerate further underneath them.  

“Where’s the fun in that?” he lets out a hearty chuckle in response, apparently finding amusement in her utterly frightened state while she wonders why she let herself think for even one second that he had pure intentions.  

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - 

“Y/N? Will you go look for my son? I fear he’s once again escaped his responsibilities to God knows where,” the king requests with an exasperated sigh while she’s crouching down and helping a servant clean up the sharp pieces of a shattered wine glass— the sound of laughter and dancing flourishing around them. 

And she could swear she saw Rafe conversing with a guest only a few short moments ago. However, as she looks around in an attempt to locate the missing prince, he’s nowhere to be found.  

“Right away, Your Majesty,” she’s quick to answer with a polite smile.  

“Thank you,” he nods gratefully, seemingly fed up with his son already.  

She ensures that the poor girl who accidentally cut her finger on the broken shards is not going to faint before tiptoeing up the broad flight of stairs in order to reach the higher levels of the palace— the loud music and blooming celebrations echoing around the halls. 

“Your Highness? Are you in there?” she knocks softly on the mahogany door leading to his bedroom.  

However, she isn’t granted a response. 

“Rafe?” she tries once more before pressing her ear against the wood separating her from the muffled sounds she can now hear from the other side— brows furrowing when something akin to a whimper reaches her ears.

It sounds nothing like Rafe; it has a higher pitch, something more feminine than his usual drawl. And as she stands there, contemplating whether something is wrong or if she should just leave, the volume only amplifies.

And in a moment of cloudy judgement, she finds herself pushing down on the handle.

However, she curses her curiosity the moment the door cracks open and she’s faced with the view of some woman’s naked back. Her long, beautiful hair reminds her of lady Lydia (a daughter of one of the dukes invited to the ball) with none other than the prince himself underneath her sweaty form.  

The sheets that she changed this morning are crumpled and creased around them and without the barrier of the door, she can now hear Rafe’s low grunts as well— can see how his big hands guide her movements. And they’re both panting heavily, seemingly lost in some haze— maybe the same one that forces her to stay rooted to her spot in the doorway.  

With her eyes as wide as saucers and mouth parted, she’s not entirely sure how long she stands there for. Until out of the blue, she notices Rafe’s eyes flickering over to her— a smirk tugging at his mouth when he catches her staring. 

She tries to move her legs but they won’t listen; making his lazy grin only grow in tandem with his strained groans that seem to only increase in volume as he locks his eyes with her.  

And she can’t breathe; the air clogging her lungs instead of flowing through as her dazed mind tries to get her to do something, anything to get her to leave the room but his heady gaze seems to have hypnotized her— compelled her to stay right where she is.  

All at once, a gravelly noise rumbles from his chest— his head dropping against the cushion of his fluffy pillows, seemingly reaching some sort of a peak in his search for pleasure as the woman above him begins to slow down her movements. And that’s when she’s finally able to step away; shutting the door behind her before scurrying down the stairs with bated breaths and heart pounding in her ears.

When she reaches the bottom, she accidentally stumbles into someone holding a golden serving tray— causing it to topple over to the floor with a loud clatter. 

“I’m so sorry,” she apologizes before her wobbly legs are scrambling off in an attempt to locate the nearest escape route to the garden.  

And once she’s managed to make it outdoors, she feels like she can finally breathe— the crisp December wind granting her heated skin an opportunity to cool down as she sits down on one of the wooden benches with a sigh.

[choccy-milky]

how seb and clora get together in my fic 💕bc what better time and place to confess and share your first kiss than around a bunch of inferi + the dead body of a man you just killed?? 🥰💖

[shepscapades]

[Part 1] [PART 2] [Part 3]

The unexpected return of a face Xisuma never thought he'd see again.

[nikkento-writes]

It was bound to happen eventually. You just didn’t think you’d get caught literally with your pants off, staring at your roommate Toji like a deer in fucking headlights and a vibrator between your legs. 

The silence between you is staggering, except for the buzz of the toy still active in your hand. You’re in such utter shock that it takes you a few seconds to finally turn it off, blood pounding in your ears, completely mortified of getting caught in the act. 

You’re not close to your roommate; in fact, you actively try to avoid him. Part of this is because the two of you come from totally different worlds. He’s nearly a decade older than you, a divorced dad who barely sees his son. His current means of income are betting on horse races and more nefarious tasks he typically performs at night, though you can’t confirm exactly what those nefarious tasks are. Meanwhile, you’re a struggling grad student, forced to share a small apartment with a potential hitman, pimp, and/or yakuza member. Like you said, you’re still not sure, but based on his looks and demeanor, those are your best guesses. 

But it’s not as if you’re complaining. 

While you are a tad bit scared of him, he’s definitely easy on the eyes. Tall, statuesque with those chiseled muscles, that alluring scar across his lips. He leaves you alone just as much as you do for him, so no matter how sketchy he comes across, you have no reason to be wary of him. 

Though, tonight might change that. 

You just finished writing a paper that you’ve been working on for weeks now. Toji is out, as usual, and you need some major stress relief. So, you shut your door closed, not bothering to lock it, strip off your bottoms, and plop yourself onto the bed, reaching for your vibrator inside your drawer. You browse through your spicy audio app and select one of your favorites, knowing it will certainly get you off. Again, you’re negligent when it comes to discretion because you play it out loud, no headphones and at the highest volume. Maybe the tiniest part of you wants to get caught with how careless you’re being. 

That’s proven the second he walks in on you, eyes wide at the lewd sight before him, black t-shirt clinging deliciously to his body, erection growing in his grey sweats. You’ve been at it for a few minutes by now, already one orgasm in, and you’re well aware how wet you are, how shiny and enticing it looks with your legs spread wide, on full display for him. 

The silence is broken when he walks towards you, long strides to get to you quickly. He grabs hold of your knees, spreading you even wider, and you don’t resist. You yield to him, like putty in his hands, ready for whatever he’s willing to give you. He licks his lips, tongue grazing over that fucking scar you like so much. “Finally,” he mutters, bowing down to spread his tongue on your clit, slobbering all over you as if he’s been waiting for this moment, as if you’ve been teasing him all this time. 

Yeah, you definitely wanted to get caught tonight. 

[lycanlovebites]

✧ bloodlust ✧

I'm starving, darling//Let me put my lips to something//Let me wrap my teeth around the world

[edit: thanks to all the love on this piece (which was just the WIP until now) I finally got the motivation to finish this after two months! Thank you to anyone who enjoys this for giving me the strength to finish this]

[ashinaisshin]

Tracks with motifs from One-Winged Angel in FINAL FANTASY VII REMAKE (2020), dev. Square Enix

[midnightorchids]

Jason is fond of the rain.

He adores the sweet earthy smell and the soft, rhythmic pitter patter against his living room window, but above all, he loves spending time with you during the heavy monsoon season.

You walk out of the neighborhood cafe, hand in hand, into the gloomy streets of Gotham. The skyline is grey and somber. It’s quiet, peaceful, a juxtaposition to the city’s usual loud and robust atmosphere.

You scan Jason’s face and he looks content, despite the heavy drizzle that’s soaking him through his sweater. It’s poetic really, a man scattered with scars, a man who bears a heavy past, finds peace in the rain. How truly melancholic.

Loud thunder rumbles through the sky as if a large battle was being fought in the distance. You clutch on to Jason’s hand a little bit tighter, while your eyes still admire his calm demeanour.

“I think we should kiss right now,” he says, pulling you out of your thoughts.

“You’re so cliche, you know that right,” you say and he sucks his teeth while rolling his eyes.

His eyes look dark, the usual green colour is almost impossible to see. He stops walking and pulls you into him, his fingers tangling themselves into your wet hair. His lips move in close to yours, but they don’t quite touch.

“I know but can you blame me,” he whispers softly. You try to suppress the small grin on your lips.

“Been reading too much Nicholas Sparks lately,” you inquire, looking up at him through your lashes. Jason lets out a small laugh and the sound touches your heart.

He stares at you in admiration. He often finds himself getting lost in your eyes.

The moment is intimate, it brought his troubled mind to ease. Jason takes the opportunity to close the gap and kisses your lips. The rain dances on your skin. There’s a soft breeze and you pull Jason closer.

He tastes like the cigarette he smoked earlier and the strawberry cheesecake you split at the cafe. You want to savour this moment forever.

He smiles against your lips and you pull back only to cover his face in small pecks.

“I…” kiss, “love…” kiss, kiss, “you…” kiss.

Jason adores the rain, the smell, the sounds, but most importantly he loves kissing you in it.