#I just want a little brick house by a pond with a small garden and a little forest path

[scientistservant]

Best I can find is that cottagecore antis, which are indeed a thing, believe that cottagecore is inherently colonialist/imperialist because they believe you MUST be wanting to go live on “untouched natural ground” which MUST be stolen indigenous land.

Which. 1) it’s an aesthetic and a daydream it doesn’t have to be ANYWHERE in particular, it could literally be on the moon, that’s the point of a daydream, 2) these people really need to log off and touch grass, and 3) speaking as a USAmerican, wtf guys this is not the only continent on the planet.

Legitimately, what the fuck is wrong with people.

[tommyspeakycap]

Painted Roses

jordan henderson x reader

word count - 2k I think

jordan takes you back to the place it all began as you expand your life together.

second part to Rose Garden

4 years to the date.

The country house with the long gravel road that lead up to the huge red brick cottage. The owner passed away over a year ago and their family, to Jordan’s utter shock, weren’t interested in maintaining the beautiful home as the wedding venue it had existed as in the past. The second he heard it was up for sale, he placed an offer and had the keys in the space of two weeks.

“Jordan where are we going?”

“You’ll see.” He promises, giving your hand a gentle squeeze where it sat on top of your knee. The blindfold is making you sweat more than you already were. “I can’t see anything.” You note pointedly with a roll of your eyes behind the blindfold. Jordan chuckles heartily with what you can imagine in your mind is his signature smile, all white teeth and crinkled eyes. “You’ll love it,” he says through that smile, “I promise.” His hand pats your knee again as a silence falls between you.

Gravel crunches beneath the wheels of his fancy black Mercedes as the smell of cut grass and fresh flowers enters your nose and makes you grin subconsciously in a way you barely even notice. Jordan catches sight of that out the corner of his eye and his heart grows with joy in his chest. The slow, careful turn of his car, paired with the sound of his hands sliding along the leather of the wheel alert you to his parking. He does so with ease and you hear the keys jangling as he shuts off the engine.

“Wait here,” he instructs, climbing out his side with the door thrown shut behind him. He’s round at your side of the car before you have a chance to think up a cheeky retort. He’s gentle as he always is when he helps you out of the car carefully, wrapping one arm around your waist so you don’t fall. Admittedly, it doesn’t work very well because the ground beneath is so incredibly uneven, so when he gets to that first smooth grey cement step, he opts to simply scoop you up into his arms with ease.

“Okay,” he begins, placing you down as you feel the smooth material covering your eyes loosening and slipping from your face. His hands replace it for only a moment as he presses a kiss to the side of your head from behind you. “Open.”

You do as told and tears spring in place of his hands to blur your vision.

It’s beautiful.

It was that Victorian style country home that once acted as a wedding venue, redecorated to a minimum. “Wanted it to look nice for you, but so that you can give it your touch. You know better than me.” He admits sheepishly with a pink tint to his cheeks. You beam at him tearily, hands clasped together in sheer joy. “God Jordan, you shouldn’t have!” You exclaim, tears bleeding over your lash line. You knew how expensive these types of homes were, never mind ones so big with such history to them. It hadn’t even made much of a dent for Jordan really. He had more money than either of you could ever have spent and he likes to remind you of that to ensure you know full and well his gentle spoiling of you is not a hardship for him. He actively loves to do it.

“Take it as an anniversary present.” He shrugs, trying to fight at the smile that was tugging his lips. The warmth of your hug and the tears seeping through his white shirt was all a welcome to him no matter how hot it was outside. He could not wait to come home to this house, be welcomed home by you and hopefully some littler mixtures of you and him with your eyes and smile. “Makes my present look a little rubbish now,” you jest, making him chuckle heartily.

The house needed a fair bit of work. New flooring, new carpets, your furniture from home would do just fine but you reckon Jordan will be all for new stuff for a new home. A few new coats of paint and nice clear out, but all in it was still absolutely gorgeous.

“There is one room I really wanted to show you though, if that’s okay?” He asks, keeping his eyes trained down on the floor. You furrow your brows, but nod your head. “I gotta grab something from the car first though?” You hum, detangling your hand from his, “And pee.”

He tilts his head like a curious puppy. “Again? You went right before we left?” He queries. You shrug your shoulders indifferently. “Since when do you question a woman’s toilet habits at that point in the month, Henderson?” You poke with a blush and a light giggle. He chuckles with you and holds up his hands in defeat, but the second your out of eye and earshot his shoulders fall and a sigh bursts out his lips. He wouldn’t let it show to you right now his disappointment. You hadn’t been trying long, but it was enough for him to be in the longing stage. Longing to see your swollen belly, longing to feel those tiny kicks against his hands and then hold his brand new baby for the first time, spend all those nights wide awake wishing for nothing but sleep while he cradled them through to the morning. You said it would happen when it happened, but it still ached with every negative test. Hearing you say you were on your period hurt a little more than he had anticipated, but he’s still heart set on showing what he had done with the short time he was able to keep this new home a secret.

You return with your handbag and take his hand. He is instinctive in those soft movements of his thumb over the back of your hand. It’s something he always does to sooth both you and him.

“So this is the master bedroom and I know it’s not quite good yet but I thought-“

“Jordan it’s beautiful,” you cut him off, your hand drifting out of his as you step in slowly. Being cautious of dust sheets and some tools, you walk into the massive room. You’d never been in a bedroom that big and it had blown you away. The huge bed, still with plastic attacked and tags on the mattress. The en-suite bathroom is marble worktops, one of those huge bathtubs and a walk in shower updated to a beautiful mixture of modernity and it’s antique homage. Tears are found again. The window gives a perfect view out the back of the house, rolling fields worth of garden space, loosely fenced in for acres into the distance. There’s a pond on the land a little to the left, not far at all that leads off towards the beginning of the hidden Rose Garden where you met Jordan 4 years ago today. All of that owned and shared by just you and the man you love. “Bloody hell, it’s so magnificent Jordan. I literally have no words.”

He beams shyly almost, “That’s how I feel about you.” He mumbles softly, almost too quiet for you to hear, like he didn’t want you to. “What’s through here?” You call behind you as he trails after you on anxious legs. You carry on through the very short pathway attached to the master bedroom that had some extra storage space. “Well uh..I haven’t finished that so maybe we should just an-“

“Oh my god.”

Jordan rubs nervously at the back of his throat as he enters into the connecting room behind you. His eyes take you in immediately, studying your features carefully. Your hands are clasped over your mouth with slow tears sliding down over your rosy cheeks. Your eyes are afire with love and happiness. “I know it’s weird but-“

“It’s perfect, Jordan.” You throw your arms around his neck, his arms finding you immediately as he buries his head into your shoulder.

It’s the only room with a new carpet yet. It’s soft beneath your shoes, a plush cream colour to match a white wall. The window on the back wall gives the same fantastic view you have in the master room. There’s a white crib pushed against the wall furthest from you with a mobile of twinkling toys dangling above and a baby changing table a little away from the top end of the crib stocked full of pampers and baby cream. In the right corner of the room just by the window is a white wooden rocking chair next to a little book shelf with baby books that had a couple plush teddies and a photo of you and Jordan 4 years ago sitting atop it. The other side corner is decked out with two beanbag seats, a soft baby mat and a bundle of all sorts of soft toys.

“Left that wall blank ‘cause I remember that day you told me you’d always wanted to paint it like the sky.” He recounts, pointing his finger at the wall that the crib was situated next to, making your head whip towards him. He had such a fantastic memory even for the little things you said, just like that. You barely even remember it, spoken under the stars as you’d fallen asleep on his shoulder. It gives you no doubt about having kids with him, the thought of him remembering your babies favourite little treats or ineffective toddler secrets makes your heart soar with pride and joy. “Look closer at that.” He turns you round so your facing that wall again, the one with the little cosy corner.

Painted on the wall intricately above it is that rose arbor your stood underneath when he first laid his eyes on you. Where he first had that dance with you, where he told you he wanted to see you again. Where you snuck into when it was late, dark and only lit by those same fairly lights so he could tell you he loved you for the first time all those years ago. The roses are painted in perfect colour, careful and precise in the way they hung around you for that first ever dance you shared together. It’s so beautiful and so lifelike you that get lost in it, reliving the moment your world came together. Every time you sit there, it’ll be like sitting under real thing when you can’t take the baby out there.

“Well this makes my present a little more fitting, then.” You sniffle, letting Jordan swipe the tears gently off your cheeks with the pads of his thumbs in a slow, loving motion. “What do you mean?” He asks, “I told you not to get me anything.” He crossed his arms over his chest as you rifle through your bag. “Okay okay, here. Open this.”

You hand over a small gift bag, one stuffed with tissue paper he has to tear through as you sit your bag down and wait, watching him with wide and watery eyes. He pulls out first the tiny little wad of fabric and places the gift bag on top of the white wooden dresser, carefully unravelling the rolled up clothes. “That’s bloody adorable.” He breathes out, trying to keep the tears he has inside his eyes to no avail. You wrap your arm around his back, rubbing his tight shoulders softly. “Look at the back.” You encourage, his eyes meet yours then look back to the tiny clothes.

HENDERSON

8

With a little picture taped carefully to the bottom that he peels off with shaky, tentative fingers. “No way!” He booms, jumping back from you in shock. He looks down at the picture, up at you, back down at the picture, then up at you again with tears slipping over his cheeks. “But you said-“

“It was a surprise!” You squeal back as he swoops forward and scoops you into his arms, spinning you around in glee. “So no food poising? And no period?” He giggled out like a schoolgirl in shock. You shake your head. “Morning sickness and just a diversion. We’re having a baby!”

“We’re having a baby!” He repeats, louder. His words bounce of the walls that can barely contain the happiness inside of them. Threatening to burst at the seams as it fills beyond belief. This room, though incomplete, is perfect. Because you are in it together. Here, together in each other’s arms sharing in joy just like you’ve both shared in pain, hurt, love, happiness, nerves and everything else along the way. Head on, together.

“And this,” Jordan holds up the little football strip with his name printed across the back, his england appointed number proudly underneath, “This is perfect. You,” he pauses, leaning forward to capture your lips in his, “Are perfect.” His hands wander down to your stomach, placed gently over where his pea sized baby currently exists, growing and feeding on the love he intends to drown them in just like he does to you, “Both of you…perfect.”

It is perfect, really. Your love is. Even when it isn’t, it is. When he’s gone too long and you can’t see him because of a pandemic; the effort is made, emotions are shared. He tells you he misses you and his ego is never too big for its space in your relationship. When the world is against him or when fate turns against you both, it’s in each other’s arms that you find solace even if space is needed first. There’s an understanding of the love you have. It’s special. The kind that only a lucky few seem to find these days, a one people can look at and spot from a mile away. It’s beautiful, it’s own space taking entity that makes you both target to significant teasing from friends and family alike. It’s perfect.

Even when you fight over what blue is better to represent the sky just because your pregnant and too hormonal to admit he’d found the right colour before you did. Even when he coats you in paint that ends in an all out paint war, thankful you both removed all the furniture before painting. Even when you sob as your body changes, with pregnant emotions skewing your mind and making you question whether he’ll ever be attracted to you again, he’ll remind you that he’s never been more attracted to you than now. Housing his child, taking the aches, the pains and the changes like a true champ while he can do nothing but rub your feet and buy you ridiculous quantities of Solero ice creams. He’ll remind you in more ways that one just how perfect you are to him. Love by it’s very nature is as messy as that paint fight. It’s up and down and all over the place all the time. But the kind of love that you and Jordan have is a special that doesn’t waver, doesn’t dull or dim or change through time.

If anything, each day he loves you more. Even if he was convinced it wasn’t possible. But then it just was. Seeing you red in the face with sweat dripping over your forehead and tears leaking from your squeezed shut eyes as your screams echo through the room. All he could do was coax and coach, trying to tell you how proud of you he was. Even when you screamed that you despised him, he laughed and told you to squeeze his hand a little harder. It hurt, but that was nothing compared to the pain that you were enduring from multiple areas of your body as that baby ripped through you to make her grand entrance to the world, kicking and screaming just like the fighter her mother was. He thought his heart might burst with the amount of love he has, surely that’s as good as it gets?

No. No, it gets better still.

Everyday it’s better. Better when he gets to watch that woman that he loves so much sing to his tiny baby daughter, rocking in that chair under the painted rose arbor as she feeds from you. The most beautiful, natural thing in the world and he is enthralled by it. Watching you giggle at her she coos up at you. Placing her down in the crib beneath the gentle jingling of the cloud themed mobile next to the pale, sky blue coloured wall, blossoms falling, trickling down through clouds from a painted blossom tree on the wall and rose petals in variations of pink and red along the bottom of the crib. Roses and rose petals just like the ones that surrounded you on the day you danced with each other in under the trees of the garden that summer night. Roses like the ones you stood under to profess your love for one another. Roses, like the ones he took a knee beside, beneath and with one in his hand to give to you as he asked for your hand. Roses like you would stand beneath with one pinned to the breast of his suit to say the vows that would tie you in law to one another and to give you his name. Roses like the ones painted on the far wall, still fresh when you shared the news of that baby girl’s existence. Roses that were such an important symbol of the love you shared, pure and beautiful, sometimes painful but always worth the fight. Those roses painted on that crib with space for just one word carved into the wood.

Rose.

Your own beautiful little Rose.

[medlilove]

Grief is the price we pay for love?

I love you, white window, with the ivy crawling up the sides of the exposed brick. And you, the window-sill that the cats climbed up to, to wake us up from our bunk beds, when they were young and strong.

I love you, the view of the rooftops and Victorian chimneys, and the orange sky in the west, on the good days.

I love you cherry tree. The same size all my life. Where sit the pigeons and parrots. Only once in my life did we get your fruit before the birds. Sam from next door, mum to Alex, climbed up a ladder and got them down for everyone, The bowl was huge and full of bright shiny berries, I’ll never forget the sight of them. I'm In the 90s again in that brief moment my eyes close to blink.

I love you, the sound of the aeroplanes and the sound of the sirens. I hope you get to where you need to go every night. I love you soft sound of the train from the top of the hill. When I was very young I would listen to it and the train would travel through the clouds as I drifted off to sleep.

From this same white window that I have wide open in front of me right now. Sitting in the dark, hoping Guy Fawkes will grace me with some visuals to all the noise.

I love you unseen fireworks on November 5th. Just hearing you is enough. I love you rain and cold air and the smell of bonfires. I love and fear you, trees like giants separating my garden from that in front. Taller than my house. Like sentinels in the night, and the day. Constant companions.

I love you comet that I saw once long ago, half a memory.

I said goodbye to the garden today. In a way.

We've never been the closest of friends, me and the garden, it was more a sibling that I often avoided and annoyed. All the wasps and bees nearly did me in as a nervous anxious child. But it has grown on me in recent years, as I have grown and visited home. It looks so lovely in the rain. Small and long crammed into the most overpopulated borough in London.

We had all these little seashells in a container in the bottom bathroom, right in the back of the cupboard. Must have been bought together in some shop by the seaside on one of many a summer holiday. I say that because they were all very beautiful and I can't imagine us as a family finding them all on some rocky seaside in southeast England. That was not something we would have done.

Mum (and Dad) aren't going to take the container to the new place, so I picked the ones I wanted, in an empty jam jar and headed for a wet and lovely garden. Stone tiles cover the majority of it, they were easier than grass. All around the borders are soil and plants.

Like the scattering of ashes, I scattered the pretty shells into the damp soil. Old, well-used inner-city soil, the same that we buried our hamsters in, so so long ago. I blink and I'm in the '90s again.

Across the back wall that I have never gotten too close to. To the second tree in the back, where a full one once stood before it rotted. To the bushes that replaced the tiny pond that went before I was born. All around where I was allowed to hold the big hose to feed the plants. Behind the old chair and into the roses. By the cherry tree where the ladder once sat. Only once. Past those stone tiles where I would sit and watch the ants and pick up snails. Where Tommy and Amber would sit and watch us, separately and together. Where both their ashes are now one with the garden they both so loved. They will stay here forever.

I wish I took more photographs of those fat orange cats. But you don't think about a grieving far-off 30-year-old when you are busy doing school homework.

Where the kiddie sandpit was in the photo.

Goodbye, goodbye, goodbye I said. Quietly so no one but the trees could hear me. And maybe the passing 747 commercial jet. Thank you, I love you. Even if I thought I didn't. We had a good time, didn't we? Know that even if we never meet again, I will think of you often.

They'll stay there now, those shells. Maybe forever. The lawyers with the little twins will move in. Will they find shells eventually and wonder, what on earth? Why are there shells here?

They are there because I exist. I existed there, and there, a part of me will remain, for as long as time allows it

Like the house, like the little white dog born in 1984, like the orange cats and the big old tree outside the front door with all the drawing pins in, the garden sits awkwardly as an extension of this family.

Sorry, we can't take you with us but well...you understand.

So goodbye goodbye goodbye, I love you, I love you, I love you. You know that right? I ask it as though it will hear me.

The things we love never truly leave us. Especially in that family-like way, where you hate them half the time. The things we love become ghosts inside us and like this, we keep them alive.

If I can say goodbye to the garden, small and wet, then maybe just maybe, I can say goodbye to the house.

Grief really is the price we pay for love.

-

Just before finally posting this I saw fireworks from my window!! What a send off!! Everything is going to be okay!!!!! This is a sign babey! 🎆

[bakingandbooks3]

A Court of Song and Serpents

A bit short but the begging of a project I'm SO excited for- hope you love this as much as I do.

Summary: What a time to be alive as Nesta Archeron, going backward to move forward and finding that the places she once called home are now empty tombs.

Nesta

Nesta held her breath for a moment, a pause, and stilled entirely. The Court of Nightmares. She knew the verdict would be severe, but never would she have expected exile to a world of terror. The horrors of that place, of how it was once the main residence of the High Lord- till Rhysand.

Rhysand, the man who boasted of lands bountiful with choice and reason, now sat across from her donning unmasked hatred. A look he kept shielded from his mate, reserved just for Nesta. The kind that rips one apart from the inside out, would carve out the belly of a beast, burn a witch on a wooden pyre.

Nesta felt nothing, she always did. It wasn’t hard to see what he was thinking of her, how his beautiful wife’s wretched sister was little more than a gambling thief who slept her way through his glorious city. Now, fingers smeared that blank canvas so pure of her darkest shades.

Eyes flicking back, she studied that same sister. The Cursebreaker, the Savior.

How small and insignificant she became next to the glimmering shining thing Feyre was. The lands spoke of her beauty and kind touch, and how she sacrificed everything to save a world of people, and Fae that she was raised to despise.

Nesta wished it’d be known that her touch wasn’t always kind.

She built her bricks firm enough that her house of grace never shattered; Held firm, it was all she had left in her. Too many eyes on her filled with grief, excitement, retribution-Nesta was keenly aware of how this Court of Dreams felt of her.

“This is an exile.”

Rhysand's smirk peaked so slightly, his mate tensing.

“No, no. This is an intervention, a chance for you to find yourself away from bad influences and habits. You can’t keep living like this, and I refuse to let it continue happening and I take the fall for it. Your decisions are impractical and immoral. You are sober much less than you are drunk and-”

“If you’re going to condemn me, do it. But don’t sit here and act as if this is out of kindness.” Nesta snarled. She hated the barbed words, but it’s what she felt. “Who are you to question my morality?”

“I think I can speak for my wife when I say that your presence here is….” Rhysand growled but pulled back, like he forgot Feyre was right there, too.

Nesta wished he would’ve let go, so maybe that facade Rhys reserved for Feyre was broken. No, that’s cruel. As much as she hated this and him, he was making her sister happy.

Something Nesta could never do.

“I do not give a shit what my presence is doing. The decision has already been made, so stop scolding me like a child and make good on your word, Rhysand.” Bile rose in her throat, the words feeling nothing but slimy and disgusting. Foreign, yet habitual all the same. Sometimes, she forgets there once was a woman called Nesta who was so much more than the viper living in her now.

Sometimes she remembers that she can’t ever be her again.

Home was nowhere for her, not in a person, not in a place, certainly not in this bombastic group of “heroes”. Nesta didn’t need a hero, she just needed someone to care. But Nesta knew better, no one would. She was taught to be unlovable, just a woman to be sold off and married- to climb her mothers' ever-growing social ladder.

But Nesta on her own was never enough, even with her mother six feet under and rotted away there were unsung expectations unmet. She was a catastrophic failure and a dark smear on a family name that never truly held weight to her.

Nesta looked up, felt everything all at once again, could only see one man pacing a worn-through tether between them. He wasn’t going to stop this, but she could see it, how it looked like he wanted to jump out of his own flesh, the veins of his arm prominent and knuckles normally so brown a new fresh fallen snow.

There was no prince to save Nesta, much less any will to save herself. So when Mor took the pleasure of bringing her to a living Hell, Nesta did not fight.

She was tired of fighting, after all, she fought an inescapable fate for the first twenty years of her life…

Flowers always made Nesta sneeze, but Elain lit like lights during winter whenever she could thread them through her hair. They all symbolized something, Laine would say. There are ones for good days, and hard storms, for sunshine and stars.

Nesta was always adorned in flowers that paralleled the estate. Astute, cold, tired, where she was warm, comforting, and smelled like cookies- ones that Celia normally baked for the sisters. She never asked Laine why she picked the ones for her that she did, her reasons would stay silent for now.

Spring was a high time of activity in the Archeron estate. There was always a flurry of activity, from preparing their mothers' obscene balls, to guests at every corner in every room. The halls were sprinkled in candles and on walls hung frames nearly kissing it was packed so tight.

They were in the gardens. It was an Elain day, as the girls would call it, and no matter how boring or mundane her wishes were they’d be fulfilled. Nesta was propped on the floor in front of Laine, who was bunching handfuls to weave in tangled auburn coils that gathered on Nesta’s head- as a bird's nest would.

Eventually, Nesta would have to learn braids or risk knotting the curls entirely.

The eldest basked in the silence she created from mentally muting her middle sister, and spared a glance at Feyre. What she saw was not surprising, but required far more willpower than she expected to not burst into laughter and risk the flowery rat's nest on her scalp.

Feyre appeared to be so bored out of her mind she was eating discarded flowers of Elains. Actually, ingesting them, as if she was a critique. When Elain wasn’t looking at Feyre, she’d grab another couple and study them- analyzing her next experiment. Glaring at the blues and yellows as if she was speaking to them, “Which one of you will make me puke the fastest so I can run away?”

In time, Feyre looked up from her taste tests to see Nesta grinning at her so violently you’d think Feyre hung the moon.

And Feyre beamed back, crossing a pinkie across her chest and pointing it back to Nesta. Then she viciously spit out the grass she’d just finished chewing, crying directly at Laine, “This MUST stop at once, my stomach hurts far too much to continue on here.”

Elain, in a garden so quiet, simply ignored her sister's poor attempts at escape. Making Nesta work even harder to stifle the shaking of her shoulders, covering her mouth and nose before she started wheezing. Elain would hardly hurt a fly but sent Nesta a glare that could’ve easily killed a man.

Nesta cleared her throat, “I do believe there are more of the blue flowers down that hill near the pond. Would you mind getting some more for Laine?”

Feyre was already on her feet, mouthing her thanks as Elain turned her back to get the next bunch of flowers, “Why of course I will!” And with a very bad curtsey, Feyre threw off her shoes and was rolling down the hill, spinning wildly, her laughter sure to be heard in meadows far beyond theirs.

You would find the Archeron sisters all together, or never in the same place.

Laine was the easiest to find, by the waters or pond on the east side, in gardens surrounded with bugs and willows calling to the young girl. She could hardly read but if the text included any mention of colors and blooms, suddenly she was a scholar. Elain was not simple or dull, but rather a passive spirit, like a summer wind- brief, fleeting, but teeming with love and hope.

Feyre, as their mother said, was a reckless wild child. Far too young to care, far too small to be whipped into shape. If you were sent to find her and your life depended on it, may the Mother bless you. Feyre liked the kitchen, because of the immaculate food and maids who would shove any sweet down the littlest Archerons throat. But, also for the immeasurable amount of sharp items to be found in there. If it was pointy and could stab a wall or scare their ice-cold mother, Feyre would be running the halls with it in hand or making targets of her fathers old trade route maps.

Then there was Nesta, the firstborn. Molded to be another woman that she somehow couldn’t fit, as if her feet were too big or hair too long, Nesta was outgrowing the standards forged into her being. You would see her as a ghost, floating in and out of rooms, comfortable in silence and slumber, but never escaping people. She loved the maids and could recite all of their names like clockwork, and the workers loved her in turn. Always stuck in new worlds between pages or willingly dragged by the two youngers, Nesta teemed with liberation. She was often alone, but never lonely, and found new loves in the library or in the fields beyond marble confines.

Adela was constantly dissatisfied with her eldest's progress inside these walls, as if at eight she should’ve already been engaged to a prince. Granted, Adela knew better. Nesta would never truly find another kingdom to buy into when she already had a crown waiting for her elsewhere. She was known as fair and beautiful beyond her years, would age like fine wine, and become so much greater than Adela ever was. What Nesta saw as fit would normally come to be, an instinct Adela was unprepared she would inherit. Nothing left her more confused than this daughter only by blood, who was hated by both her parents for reasons far from the same, and how at less than ten years had an entire mansion wrapped around her fingers.

But Adela would wait, and simply leave them be for now. When viper's strike, they kill. And even though the Matron of the house wanted her little queen gone, she had other ways to see this through.

Anyways, children's blood on her hands would stain her diamonds.

---

Cassian

Cassian was violently fucking ill. Watching whatever the fuck that was did not help in the slightest. The second she was gone, so was he.

The General and High Lord were not on speaking terms, his presence was an obligation and not a request. When Rhys first displayed his plans, Cassian just about murdered him. Had his brother on the table in a chokehold that the Shadowsinger had to come and release Rhys from. The way his so-called family planned her exile was… horrific.

Cassian was full of light and humor, but not dull the way his family made him out to be. He could see this for what it was, punishing an already broken female for not meeting every damn need of a fully grown woman that was no longer her responsibility. Cass knew better than to downplay the sacrifices Feyre made, but he was also well aware that Nesta's habits were hardly a financial problem and more of a reputation scandal.

That’s what the High Lord did best, when his Court was breaking at the bonds, the mess would “disappear”. Just like the Illyrians hidden in the mountains, the displaced families of Spring, the homeless warriors of Night.

Cassian loved his brother, but more often than not he wondered when Fate would come to bite them in the asses for Rhys’ neglect.

Now, here he was, in his mothers' cabin, wings dragging behind him wiping tears long since shed over a woman who was thrown to the wolves and torn into so many scraps he wasn’t sure how he could put her together again.

He missed his Nesta, the one who threw glares and begged for her people, not this one who hardly spoke and caved into herself enough that she couldn’t see where she was heading.

Cassian fingered for his mug in the wooden cabinets and hit his mark, soon placing water to heat over a small fire over the counter.

He was not okay, not okay at all.

When you look for something in the dark for too long, you eventually find what you need but not always in the way you expect. Cassian coped the same as Nesta Archeron in his first years post-war. It was suffocating trying to be the happy one while dying inside. He watched men he looked up to fall and a lover he admired take her last breath- too much in far too little time. Cassian was not an idiot, he was simply perplexed. Why was he allowed to grieve in unacceptable manners, but Nesta was a sinner in holy clothing?

Bright walls and unlit rooms in the house were silent, only the winds of the mountains singing outside. The newly dusted snow wrapped the dirt in a delicate kiss- a forbidden touch. It was the peak of winter, just after Feyre’s birthday and another insufferable party.

One that Nesta wasn’t invited to.

Cassian wished he wasn’t invited either.

The cup in his hands was dwarfed in comparison to the bulky Illyrian holding it, but at least it was warm. At least it wasn’t empty.

Because if there was one thing he knew, it could always be worse.

Cassian knew that if things were a little different, he’d be the one sitting in a prison of darkness and Hell because of mistakes made as a child. He’d be exiled by family, cast away by the only living remains of a life once lived.

Nesta didn’t know but long before this he had called it even, their sins atoned for in hurting each other equally.

She was the only one in the world who could tell which smiles he was faking.

To anyone on the outside, one kiss was merely that. How curious it was, the iceberg went far deeper.

So when the mug crashed against the wall, and in its wake resembled his inner turmoil, Cassian took to the skies and found himself at the door of a place far too familiar.

.

.

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AHHHHHHHH OMG OKAY hope you guys enjoyed this:) if you want to be added to the tag list let me know!

@lovemeforever12345 @champanheandluxxury @nahthanks@perseusannabeth@queenestarcheron@silvernesta

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[kevindayisafrog]

Little Kevin and Riko in France where they steal adopt Jean

(idk if the French is right..I barely speak English)

TW - Riko being a little bully and Tetsuji being a gaslighting prick

“Stay here and don’t fucking move”, Tetsuji pointed a finger between Riko and Kevin before disappearing through the large wooden doors of the mansion. “I’m bored”, Riko kicked a stone and watched as it bounced across the grey stone slabbed porch, “let’s look at their garden”. Kevin watched as Riko hopped down the porch steps and walked around the side of the house with his head held high as if he owned the place. Kevin looked behind him at the doors that Tetsuji just went through and back to where Riko had just gone, feeling torn. He let out a little whimper and ran down the steps after Riko, scuffing his polished black shoes against the gravel driveway. “They have a pond!”, Riko shouted across the large freshly mown garden and waved to where he was sat by a deep crystal clear pond. Kevin walked over and sat next to Riko on the small stone wall that was lining the pond. “Wow, look at that”, Kevin leaned forward and pointed at the water as a silver koi fish swam past creating small ripples in the water. “I’m going to have a house like this one day”. Kevin turned to Riko and followed his gaze to stare at the large house. Well, it was more a castle than a house; dark green ivy ran up the back of the house and small slithers of grey brick were visible through the leaves and vines, whilst large bay windows caused the ivy to twist and turn to avoid covering them. “How much do you think it costs?”, Kevin asked, leaning back on his hands and kicking his legs against the wall. “I don’t know, probably hundreds and thousands”, Riko replied as he turned to look into the pond, “but once we become pros we’ll be able to afford it”. Kevin let out a small gasp and dropped his head against his shoulder to face Riko, “are we going to live together then? I hope the master doesn’t come, he scares me”. Riko let out a huffed laugh and shook his head, “why would he come with us? We’ll be adults, we won’t need him”, he paused to watch the water before adding: “and of course you’ll come with me, you’re my pet. You have to be with me always”. Kevin frowned and looked back up to the house, letting out a little sigh and imagining his own house where Riko wouldn’t be with him. He imagined a large cottage like the one he lived in with his Mom with a small white picket fence and a massive garden where he can let all of his pets out to play. He’d have a massive bedroom where he can store all of his favourite things, like his history books, and an Exy court in his basement where he can practice whenever he wanted. “Is that a shark?”, Kevin turned his head to face Riko, mind still deep within his thoughts, and followed the other boy’s pointed finger to the water. “I can’t see anything, Riko”, Kevin whispered as he squinted his eyes. “Lean closer then, I swear there was a little shark swimming around”, Riko pushed Kevin’s head a little closer to the water and tried to hold in a laugh. “Wait, I think I see it!”, Kevin laughed and leaned in a little more. “Go and kiss it”, Riko laughed before grabbing the back of Kevin’s shirt collar and pushed him into the deep pond. He let out a cackle and fell off the pond wall onto the freshly mowed grass, his hands clutching his stomach as Kevin whimpered from the water. “That wasn’t funny”, Kevin whined as he dragged himself out of the pond and onto the grass, “my clothes are wet and the Master is going to get angry”. He stood up and tried to shake some of the water out of clothes: out of the brand new suit that Tetsuji made them wear for this ‘business’ visit. “He is going to be so annoyed”, Riko laughed as he stood up still clutching his stomach.

“I’m going inside”, Kevin muttered as he squelched his way back around the house to the porch steps where Tetsuji was stood with a lanky boy. “I told you to-“, Tetsuji started, before taking in Kevin’s soaked clothes and Riko’s grass stains. He clutched the young boy’s shoulder tightly with a cold expression, “get in the car”, he growled. Riko and Kevin bowed their heads in fear and ran towards the car, climbing into the back seat together. “If you two want to act like children then I’m taking you off the team and sending you away. Good luck trying to find someone who will look after you as well as I have been doing”, Tetsuji climbed into the front seat and slammed the door behind him, “get in the back” he shouted to the boy who was lingering outside his door. Kevin watched as the lanky boy from the porch climbed into the back seat with them, quietly shutting the door behind him. “Boys, meet Jean, he’s going to be our new addition to the team. Riko, don’t hesitate to make him feel at home”, Tetsuji’s lips curled into a cold smile before he started the car and started speeding out of the long winding driveway. “Hi, I’m Kevin, nice to meet you”, Kevin stuck his hand out towards the boy who was curled in on himself. “Bonjour, Kevin”, Jean shook Kevin’s hand without looking up from his lap, “je ne parle pas anglais, désolé”. Kevin looked over his shoulder to Riko who shrugged and let out a quiet laugh. “I..I don’t know what you said but it sounds fancy”, Kevin dropped Jean’s hand and grinned widely. “Um….m-merci?”, Jean looked up at Kevin and, much to Kevin’s delight, let out a small hesitant laugh. “I think that we’re going to be good friends”, Kevin whispered before resting back into his seat and watching the scenery go past through the window.

[mxnsterbabe]

Y’sran x Reader Pt 2

Pt 1 Male Dragonborn/Female Reader NSFW Wordcount: 9,963 Commissions | Ko-fi | Masterlist

Part two of a commission for @ivymemnoch​

Y'sran looked so comically small in your home - you had high , slanted ceilings with bare beams that crossed the length of the rooms, but even then the topmost spike of his jagged horns was in danger of getting stuck. You hadn't realised how huge he really was until that moment, but as you watched him lower his head to avoid another wooden beam, it was hard to ignore.

The sheer size of him alone was enough to make your knees weak, and you forced your gaze away. "Would you like a drink?" you asked instead, wandering to the kitchen, "I have whiskey, rum, wine. Or tea, if you'd prefer."

There was a dull thunk from the living room, followed by a dull groan. Y'sran muttered something you couldn't hear, then piped up, "what kind of whiskey?"

"Some vintage from Mistfall," you replied, already digging out two glasses from the topmost cupboard. Your house was modest in size, but you were lucky enough to have three modestly sized rooms and a kitchen big enough for a hearth and plenty or storage. You managed to find the whiskey - a gift from Dot last year - and set everything on a tray. As you carried it all through you couldn't help but wonder how much it took Y'sran to get drunk.

At some point he had settled into the armchair by the unlit fireplace, but he was far too big and his legs stuck out awkwardly, taking up almost all of the space from fireplace to door. Your spacious house didn't look so spacious with him in it. His eyes flickered up as he noticed you sidle in, an apologetic smile gracing his handsome features. "I fear I'm not suited to a house like this."

"Then we can sit outside. The weather's nice, and you'll have plenty of room." The neighbours might think it strange, but the hedges were tall and if they saw, that was their problem to deal with.

Y'sran offered you a thankful smile - and then, in one fluid motion, swept the tray from your hands. You parted your lips to argue - but he was already holding the door open for you.

Your house was at the end of the street, bordered mostly by trees and then an expanse of field behind. Other than one house across and one beside you, there was almost perfect privacy. You led Y'sran around the back, where a tall brick wall and hedges surrounded a neatly kept garden. There was a pond in the middle, and although you had wanted fish you had never gotten around to it. The rest of the garden was bursting with flowers; marigolds and lavender and honeysuckle that climbed the walls. To the left, you even had a little vegetable patch.

You hadn't even noticed Y'sran staring, not until you stepped forward and he didn't come with. Turning, you craned your neck to see a faint smile on his face. "Never seen a garden before?" you offered with a laugh.

"I don't often get the chance, no. I travel far too often to keep one of my own."

Well, he was an adventurer. Travelling was part of the deal, and freelancing jobs took adventurers all over. The thought made you shudder, but perhaps you were just too rooted to your home. After all, you'd lived in Dawncross your entire life. "It must be wonderful though, getting to travel. The things you must have seen."

Y'sran was far too big for the wooden swing chair you kept, so you settled on the grass side by side. The pond needed weeding, but Kami always helped with that and he was getting lazy lately. Besides, Y'sran didn't seem to mind at all - he poured the drinks distractedly, his enormous hands gentle even as he cast his gaze about your little space. "I love adventuring," he replied, handing over your drink, "but sometimes I think it might be nice to settle down. I do live here in town, but half the time my house sits empty."

You glanced down at your whiskey - he'd poured too much, almost four fingers of the stuff, but you took a sip without complaint. It was bitter on the way down, but the aftertaste was pleasant and warm. "What would you do, if you were to give up adventuring?"

The glass was so tiny in his hands, and suddenly you're enormous serving made sense. He'd poured you a Y'sran sized drink. He took a drink, smiled, and set it down on the grass. "I told you I used to be a blacksmith? I don't think I'd ever go back to it. Perhaps I'd make jewellery instead."

Jewellery? The idea surprised you - but then, you decided, it made some sort of sense. He was so delicate despite his size, so careful in everything he did. Honestly, he'd make a perfect jeweller. "I think you'd suit it," you admonished with a grin. You had drank too much at the tavern, and now this whiskey was catching up with you too. Still, you took another long swig and let the warmth spread through you.

"Blacksmithing runs in the family," Y'sran mused as he poured himself another drink. Really? He'd finished it already? "But I love adventuring. I don't think I could ever give it up. But, ah, you don't want to hear about that-"

"I do!" you piped up - too loud, too enthusiastic. A rosy flush spread across your cheeks, and not just from the alcohol. "I-I mean, it's interesting. You're interesting, and I'd like to get to know you."

"I bet you say that to all the men," he quipped, his grin revealing white fangs.

If you hadn't been blushing before, you were positively scarlet now. You thought back to the tavern, barely an hour ago, where Kami and Dot had dared you to kiss someone. It could have gone worse - especially considering the incident with the tiefling - but now here you were, and it was easy to say you were out of your depth. Downing the rest of your whiskey, you winced as it burned the back of your throat.

Y'sran's smile was gentle as he offered to pour you another. How he could be so huge, covered in sharp scales, and still look so sweet was beyond you - but you found heat pooling in your stomach as your hands brushed, feeling the warmth of his skin and the caress of claws against your wrist. You couldn't help but watch as he poured a drink - of reasonable size this time - careful with the delicate bottle in his massive hands.

Was he so gentle all of the time? Would he treat you softly as he lay you down on the mattress, as he swept his hands across your curves? Or could he be rough, dig those claws into your skin and leave little trails of red scratches in his wake? Your lust had dimmed on the trip back home - but now it reared back full force, leaving your cheeks pink and your abdomen on fire.

Hands brushed once more as Y'sran handed back your drink. His hand practically enveloped the little glass, fingers touching yours before drawing back to take his own. Although his smile was ever confident, you thought there was a slight pinkness to his golden skin. 

You sat in comfortable silence for a while, drinking whiskey and watching the sky. It was a clear night, the stars above bright silver against the black. Somewhere in the street a dog barked, sound carried on the breeze that tickled the back of your neck now and again. The perfect night for a date.

If that's what this was, of course. You had asked him inside on impulse, without thinking or even knowing what to expect. An erratic move for a usually sensible person - but that was what alcohol did to people. Still, as your gaze drifted back to Y'sran, you couldn't ignore the growing heat low in your stomach. His kind smile, those beautifully dark eyes, his wide-set shoulders and thick waist all fought for your attention, so you let your eyes rove over him while he watched the stars.

There was something so uniquely wonderful about him - you knew that after only a few hours together.

Finishing the second glass of whiskey, the buzz really settled in. The edges of your vision blurred when you turned, and you weren't sure how well you could walk, should you decide to stand. Setting the glass aside, you watched Y'sran shift his weight until his legs were stretched out in front of him. He didn't wear shoes - a fact that had you shoving down the urge to laugh - but where his trousers rode up you saw more golden scales and a winding tattoo of roses around his ankle.

He must have caught you watching because a slow grin spread across his handsome face - and oh, why did that make you want to kiss him? "My brother, Damia, dared me to get a tattoo when I was seventeen. This is what I ended up with."

"I like it," you blurted - only to silently curse yourself. The alcohol was still working its way through your system, leaving you feeling dizzy. "It's cute," you elaborated; but the attempt at explanation only sounded worse. Ugh. Biting down on your lip you looked away, flushed under the intent of his gaze.

"You've had a lot to drink," Y'sran surmised. Deep, rumbling laughter rose in his throat and it sent shivers down your spine. Even his laughter was attractive - how unfair.

Shrugging, you risked a glance his way. You weren't the only one tipsy, at least, if his rosy cheeks and dopey smile were anything to go by. Quirking a brow you challenged, "I might not have dragonborn tolerance, but you don't look so sober yourself."

"I'm not drunk." 

"Your breath smells like whiskey." Or was it your own? Hell if you knew. Leaning forward on your knees, you closed the small space between you both, a smile spreading across your lips. And oh yeah, you could smell the whiskey clinging to his breath, even on his skin, as if it had permeated the air with its strength. Underneath that though you could smell the tavern ale, and something deep and musky that was just undoubtedly Y'sran.

Your faces were mere inches from each other now, your hair brushing against his cheeks as it drifted in the breeze. So close you could see the dark chocolate shade of his eyes, speckled with gold and tiny splashes of green. Just another inch or two, and you'd be kissing him-

It happened before you realised. Suddenly your lips crashed against his and his arms were around you, tugging you into his lap. It wasn't clear who moved first or how it even happened but then you were kneeling between his thick thighs, lips tangled with his as he cupped the back of your head with one enormous hand. You let out a little gasp, or maybe it was laughter, as you deepened the kiss.

Y'sran was all too happy to oblige, claws tangling in your hair as he clung to you. His tongue skimmed your bottom lip, tasting of whiskey, and when you opened your mouth to comply he swirled his tongue around yours and left you gasping. The drunken part of you struggled to keep up, your kisses sloppy and mind a haze, but it only seemed to make him more excited.

You reached around to grab his hips - and your hand connected with a glass, spilling the contents into the grass. You didn't even spare a thought for the wasted drink, latching onto those delicious hips and pulling yourself flush against him. He was so damn tall you had to crane your neck, push yourself up by the knees, but your mind was a fog of desire and you didn't care so long as this never ended.

It wasn't until something hard prodded against your thigh that you paused, grinning into the kiss. You reached between his thighs, squeezing the hard muscle there, hands caressing their way toward his crotch-

Y'sran broke the kiss with a breathless gasp, gently plucking your hand away to settle it on his waist. "You're drunk," he said, breath leaving him in short, rasping huffs, "we shouldn't. It wouldn't be fair."

But I want this, you thought dejectedly. Yet part of you - the reasonable part, the part not clouded by lust and alcohol - agreed. Maybe, if you hadn't had those extra whiskeys, but as you came down from the high of kissing him, even just sitting back on your heels had you wobbling dangerously.

"I do want this," Y'sran added with a grin - and yes, you could tell how much he wanted it by the thick bulge in his trousers, "but when you're sober."

You cast a gaze to the sky, to the moon hovering above you. It was late, and you'd had way to much to drink and yes, okay, maybe now wasn't the time. After all, neither of you had promised each other anything when you'd invited him in. Turning back to him, you offered a lopsided smile. "it's your fault for loading me up with whiskey."

"I forget humans are such lightweights."

"Because we're half your size!" Laughter rose in your throat - and just like that, the tension shattered. You leaned over, hands planted firmly between his thighs, to press a kiss to the corner of his mouth. It was strange, kissing a face that was more snout than lips, but it lit up a flurry of butterflies in your stomach. 

"Another time," he said - and the promise of another time was more than you'd hoped for. 

You couldn't fight the smile that spread across your lips or the delighted laughter that spilled from your throat. You sat back to admire Y'sran, take in all of his shining scales and ropey muscle, as he climbed to his feet. He offered you a hand, one you took gratefully, and he hoisted you upright - you wobbled a bit on the uneven ground, but he held you steady.

Leading you back to the house, Y'sran sat you down on the nearest armchair before returning for the whiskey and tray. "You should have coffee, it will prevent a hangover."

Sprawled out across the chair, legs slung over the side, you must have looked ridiculous - but so what? You'd only known him a day and already he'd seen you embarrass yourself multiple times, yet he was still here. "No coffee," you replied, "not if I want to sleep. Caffeine and I don't mix."

Setting the tray on the coffee table, he grabbed a blanket from the basket by the door. You always kept some there for guests, or for cold nights by the fireplace, and it came in handy now. He lay it over you with such tenderness, his eyes soft, and your heart fluttered. "You should sleep; and I should get home."

You hummed in the back of your throat, casting a glance toward the old clock by the fire. "It's after midnight," you mused, "stay for tonight."

"I can walk home by myself," he noted with a deep laugh.

Well, yeah. You could have too, but he'd still offered to walk you home from the tavern. Sitting up - and wincing at the head rush it produced - you huffed. Oh, Kami was going to hear about this in the morning, even if it was mostly your own fault. "You can have the bed. It'll be small, but it's comfortable. Humour me?"

His eyes flickered to your bedroom - the door was open, revealing the dark silhouette of the bed inside. "I couldn't-"

Reaching out, you placed a warm hand over his. You would never get over how wonderful his skin felt, how it was somehow rough and soft all at once. "Just for tonight," you promised with a grin, squeezing his hand carefully, "just until it's light out."

For a moment he might have argued - but then he rolled his eyes and sent you a flash of a grin that showed the tips of pointed teeth. "Stubborn, aren't you?"

"Always."

The way he gazed at you, eyes soft and dark in the low light, made your heart melt. How was it, that you felt you'd known him forever? There was something so familiar about his kindness, his smiles, something that put you at ease without even trying. "All right," he finally admonished, "I'll stay."

"Good," you wanted to reply - yet when your lips parted all that came out was a yawn that stretched your mouth wide open. Clamping a hand across your face, you ducked away - yet didn't miss how he held in another of those rumbling laughs.

You bid each other goodnight with a kiss, one that lingered just a moment too long, before Y'sran brushed stray hair from your eyes and tucked the blanket around you. There was something so sweet about it, so lovely and warm and comforting, that you didn't even mind being stuck in an armchair all night. 

Not if it meant getting to wake up to him in the morning.

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

You slipped back to consciousness with sun streaming through the thin curtains, casting a warm glow across the inside of your eyelids. Strange, your bedroom curtains didn't usually let in this much light. There was something else, too - a salty, smoky scent drifting in through the kitchen. Holding in a yaw, you scrubbed at your eyes and sat up - but wait, you were already upright. Instead of a bed, you were in a chair.

Oh, right! You'd given Y'sran the bed, and stayed in the living room instead. You were still in your clothes too - barefoot, but wearing your dark dress and stockings from the day before. You probably looked a mess, but the smell of bacon lured you toward the kitchen anyway. You'd expected him to leave in the morning, but unless a neighbour had snuck into your house and started making breakfast, Y'sran was still here.

You saw him grilling bacon in a pan over the fire, two mugs of tea already sitting waiting. It was strangely domestic, seeing such a huge man so at home in your own house. He hummed lowly as he cooked - a song you you recognised, some kind of dragonborn melody - and his voice was pleasantly deep, and you couldn't help but smile.

"Morning," you murmured sleepily, sidling over to grab the nearest mug. It was warm in your hands, but not too hot - as if it had been left to cool. How long had Y'sran been awake?

He grinned in reply. "Good morning! I thought I'd let you sleep - I hope you aren't too hungover?"

Ugh. You'd been spared the headache and dry mouth usually accompanied by a night of drinking, but the memory enough left a sour taste in your mouth. You'd been weird last night; first for trying to kiss strangers, even if it had been one of Kami's awful dares. Then for inviting Y'sran home, like you expected anything to happen between you two. "I've been worse," you finally replied, taking a healthy gulp of tea, "I'm sorry for last night."

"Sorry?" he asked, quirking a brow - he had no eyebrow hair, but his big, sloping horn quirked with the movement. It was kind of cute. "I happened to have had a lovely evening."

"You did?" Your chest flipped, eyes darting hopefully up to his. "I suppose I sort of assumed I'd forced your hand."

"If your remember, I asked to walk you home."

Warmth flooded through you, a soft smile gracing your features. "That's a relief. I honestly sort of expected you to be gone by morning."

That brow quirked again, his dark eyes sparkling. "Morning? It's almost noon. This," he pointed toward the sizzling bacon, "nearly counts as lunch."

Oh. Shit. Had you really slept that long? And without even realising! You hadn't slept this late since - well, you couldn't remember when. And to think, Y'sran had been here the entire time. It only warmed you more, knowing he had stuck around to make you something to eat. Shifting from foot to foot, you asked, "do you need any help?"

"It's nearly done," he replied. Then, cheeks flushing a shade of red, he quickly turned back to the fire. "I hope you don't mind me raiding your pantry like this."

Frankly you thought it was sweet - but in fear of sounding sappy you simply said, "not at all."

Breakfast - or lunch, really - was a simple affair of bacon, eggs and bread. You ate in the living room since Y'sran wouldn't fit the kitchen chairs, eating with your hands since he also couldn't use your delicate cutlery. He didn't seem to mind, but you didn't want him to feel out of place so you refrained from a fork too. It was messy, but tasted just as good.

Conversation carried just as easily as it had the night before. Y'sran needed to go into town to check for jobs, and he told you a little about what he did.

"It isn't as dangerous as it sounds," he said through a mouthful of egg, "It's mostly just odd jobs for mayors or other rich people. Find a runaway daughter, kill something causing the town trouble. It's mostly fixing other people's problems. Every so often, though, you come across something really bizarre."

"Like what?" Pushing your half eaten plate aside, you gazed at him with eager eyes. Truthfully you just wanted to keep him talking, keep him here with you for as long as possible. Maybe it was selfish but, well, Y'sran didn't seem to be complaining. 

He grinned, bright and eager, and a part of you wished he would always look at you like that. Ugh, how sappy. Y'sran shifted, tucking his feet beneath him in a cross-legged position, tapping his chin in thought. "Well, once we were hired by a nobleman who thought his daughter had been kidnapped - but she had actually eloped with a lich, of all things."

Wrinkling your nose, you cringed. Lich's were rare, so rare most people never came across even one in their lifetime. You couldn't imagine falling in love with one - they were just old bones held together with magic. "So what happened?"

"We worked things out, told the nobleman his daughter wouldn't be coming back. That isn't the interesting part though. My entire party and I were invited to their wedding."

Laughter rose in your throat - you had to clamp a hand across your mouth to muffle it. That would have been an adventure! "It sounds like fun," you admitted, "honestly, I've never travelled much. It hasn't ever really appealed."

"You could come with me to the guild," he offered, "I can't promise danger and adventure, but you can see what it's like."

You perked up at that, nodding with enough enthusiasm you messy hair fell across your eyes. "You wouldn't mind?"

"Not at all. Maybe after, we could get lunch."

Chest stuttering, you could only nod. This was so much more than you had expected - honestly, you had expected the morning to be awkward, for Y'sran to make an excuse to leave. Yet here he was, asking you on a date. At least, you hoped that's what this was. Just the thought alone made you smile, made your stomach flutter with hundreds of tiny butterflies. "I'd love that," you replied softly. Then you remembered your rumpled clothes, sleep-knotted hair, and realised you probably looked about five times as hungover as you actually felt.

As if reading your mind, Y'sran climbed to his feet. "I'll wash up, if you like, while you get ready." Those great curling horns were mere inches from the ceiling, his back a little hunched to fit into the small space. He didn't seem to mind at least, collecting your breakfast dishes with delicate hands. His claws, which you imagined must have been a nuisance, didn't hinder him at all.

Maybe your eyes fixed on those strong hands a moment longer than necessary. There was something so mesmerising about the gentleness there, and you simply couldn't imagine him wielding a weapon or fighting anyone, even if it was part of his job. Blinking, you hauled yourself upright - avoiding his gaze - and offered him a nod. "Thank you. You don't need to do all of this, you know."

"Maybe not," he replied, already moving toward the kitchen, "but I want to."

You grinned the entire way to the bedroom, still smiling even as you tugged a clean dress over your head. You intentionally chose something pretty - a soft shade of orange that was almost a perfect match for Y'sran's horns. It hadn't been intentional, yet as you caught sight of the skirt swishing in the mirror, you made the connection. It brought out the colour of your eyes, even managed to make your unbrushed hair look good.

Running a brush through said hair, you finished it with a bow - only to decide it was too much. After all, you didn't want to make it look like you were trying too hard.

Ten minutes later you wandered back into the main room, peeking through the little archway to see Y'sran finishing up in the kitchen. He turned, wiping his hands on a towel - only for his eyes to go wide as he caught sight of you. He said nothing for a second - and you shifted under the intensity of his gaze, wondering if there was something wrong - before his expression softened. "You look lovely."

Warmth settled in your stomach, a soft feeling you weren't used to. "Thank you," you replied awkwardly, tucking loose hair behind an ear, "I don't always look like a drunken idiot."

"You never did," he said with a deep, rumbling laugh, "you'll need to be careful at the guild - there will be plenty of men vying for your attention."

Sure, you thought - but it still made you feel giddy. Maybe what had started out as a silly dare, could actually turn into more. You'd have to thank Kami later. There was something you never expected to say - but Y'sran was so sweet, so handsome and lovely that it was impossible not to want more.

Y'sran's hand brushed against yours as he walked past, and it sent sparks across your skin. "If you're ready, we can go. The guild gets busy after midday, and the good jobs will be taken if we're not quick."

"Well, I hardly want to be the reason you're out of pocket," you joked, opening the door for him with a flourish. He had to duck to leave, and you stifled a laugh as you slipped out after him. Outside was cool, with a breeze that made your skin prickle and your dress twirl about your ankles. 

Y'sran, it seemed, was impervious to the chill. Maybe it was part of being a gold dragonborn - you hadn't had the chance to meet many, but in school you learned some could breathe fire like their full dragon ancestors. Yet he stuck close to you anyway, perhaps sensing you were cold, and the warmth radiated from him like sunshine.

You walked in peaceful silence, ignoring the few heads that turned your way. It must have been quite a sight - a towering dragonborn next to a human half his size. Y'sran must have been used to it, travelling all over, but you felt yourself pressing into his side to avoid the stares.

At least you didn't have to put up with it for long. You'd travelled this road hundreds of times and the familiar shape of the guild swam into view - a hefty brick building nestled between an armoury and a butchers, with a cracked black sign that advertised Freelancer Adventurer's Guild.  You'd always avoided walking past before, picking up your pace to scurry past the mean-looking orcs and haughty elves that lingered outside. This time, however, you ad Y'sran wandered over at a leisurely pace, his arm loosely linked with yours. It felt natural, somehow, to be so close to him. 

The door stood open to reveal a dimly lit interior, sparsely decorated save for two desks manned by human women, a handful of ancient tables, and notice boards lining the far wall. It didn't look like much, but one of the women smiled so warmly as you entered that you couldn't help but smile back. 

"Y'sran!" the woman called, leaning across the desk to usher him over, "I haven't seen you in a while. I've got the perfect job for you, if you're interested."

He glanced down at you - as if he needed your permission to investigate - so you gave him a nod of encouragement. "It's why we're here," you replied with a laugh, "go on! I want to know what she has in store for you."

Rolling his eyes, he flashed a toothy grin and led you over. Maybe he'd forgotten your arms were linked, but he didn't seem at all shy about the public affection. In fact, as you came to stand by the desk, the woman gave a knowing wink, and Y'sran only waved a hand. "I told this lovely lady here I'd show her the guild," he explained, "we're going for lunch after."

"Oh, a date!" she cheered - and the few people inside turned curious glances their way. Eyes wide and cheeks flushed, she let out a musical laugh. "It's about time you found someone, Y'sran. Ten years I've known you, and you've never dated-"

"Georgette, the job?"

"Oh, right!" Laughing, the woman - who you now knew as Georgette - ducked under the desk to grab something, her vibrant red curls all you saw above the desk.

Shifting from foot to foot, you cast Y'sran a raised brow. He simply shrugged as if to say, don't worry about it, and gave your arm a squeeze. Maybe he thought you were uneasy, but quite honestly you just couldn't understand the woman. 

"It's here somewhere," Georgette insisted, rifling through stacks of papers and rolls of parchment. Her hair bobbed with every movement and she scrambled to brush it away from her eyes.

"Is she always like this?" you murmured to Y'sran.

He shrugged, eyes twinkling. "Yes," he replied, "you wouldn't think she's worked here for fifteen years." gently tugging on your arm, he said to Georgette, "we can come back once we've looked at the notice boards."

"You won't find anything good there - ah, here it is!" She popped back up with a flourish, all but brandishing parchment in Y'sran's face.

You noticed the way he smiled - that same gentle look he offered to you - as he took the parchment and unravelled it with careful hands. Had they been together at some point? They'd known each other ten years, so it was perfectly plausible, and you didn't want to dwell on why that made your heart sink. It wasn't as if Y'sran was yours. He was just someone you had met by chance and shared an evening with.

Y'sran's voice jolted you from your thoughts, and a gentle elbow prodding your shoulders had you turning to him wide with, curious eyes. "This job is worth a lot," he said, one sharp claw pointing at the offer. "Five hundred gold for a week's work, including travel expenses."

"That's a lot! You should take it."

His expression darkened, tongue nervously flicking from between his lips. A nervous habit shared among lizard people too, you noticed. "I'd love to take it, but I'd have to leave this evening, and I haven't packed or bought supplies."

"So..?"

"So I'd have to cancel our lunch date."

Disappointment filled your chest. You parted your lips to reply, not knowing whether to encourage or dissuade him, only to clamp them closed again. You had no right to dictate what he did, no say in his choice of work. Slipping your arm from around his, you cast your gaze to the floor. "We can have lunch another time," you offered, "it's up to you."

Dragonborn features were sometimes difficult to discern - but Y'sran's disappointment was evident by his furrowed brow and the little crinkle in his snout. It was so cute you found it difficult to stay annoyed. "It would be silly to pass up so much money..." 

"Go, take the job," Georgette said with a grin on her round cheeks, "it will make that future date feel even more special when you get back." 

Not helping, you thought sourly - but you truly couldn't expect Y'sran to pass up such an offer. Looking up at him - craning your neck as far as it would go - you offered what you hoped was a reassuring smile. "Take the job. I'll be here when you get back."

"You don't mind?"

A little, you thought. "Not at all," was your reply.

So it was decided. Y'sran accepted the job, signing the contract and tucking it away in a hidden pocket inside of his coat. You were in awe of how delicately he held the quill between his huge claws, and your mind began to drift before you were forced to reel it back in. He was leaving soon, and who knew if he would even be interested when he got back. Best not to think about anything too... erotic.

So it was decided. Y'sran accepted the job, signing the contract and tucking it away in a hidden pocket inside of his coat. You were in awe of how delicately he held the quill between his huge claws, and your mind began to drift before you were forced to reel it back in. He was leaving soon, and who knew if he would even be interested when he got back. Best not to think about anything too... erotic. 

Georgette was positively beaming as she and Y'sran sealed the deal with a handshake. "Good luck! Not that you'll need it; you're the best around."

"Thank you, Georgette."

"Now get out of here, you don't have the time to waste!"

The two of you left together, Georgette waving to you from behind her desk. The other receptionist, who's name you never learned, didn't even look up from her papers. 

A breeze cooled your skin as you stepped outside, made you shiver despite the sunshine peeking from between thick white clouds. "Georgette sure is... something," you noted awkwardly, "you seem close. Were you.."?

"Jealous?" Y'sran teased. He led the way into town, pace slowed to a crawl in order for you to keep up. Glancing down, he offered a kind smile. "I know what you're asking - and no, we were never together. To begin with, she doesn't even like men."

"Oh." A dark flush spread across your cheeks. Side by side as you walked, it was impossible to conceal your face - so you turned away, allowing your hair to shield your face from view. "I just assumed, since she was so happy to see you." 

His laugh was deep, musical, and sent a shock of warmth spreading through you. "She's just an excitable person," he explained, "she's like that with everyone - oh, watch out!"

You were swept aside just as a tall orc woman marched past - you would have collided straight into her chest had Y'sran not jerked you out of her way. She glared down at you, muttered something you couldn't quite catch, and stormed off down the street with a haughty huff.

"Distracted, are we?"

Embarrassed, more like, and now you looked like even more of an idiot. Ugh. Just when you thought things were going well, you had to stick your foot in it again. Yet with Y'sran's warm hand still against your back and his smile sparkling in the sun, you couldn't help but feel better. Offering an awkward attempt at a smile, you started walking again. "Sorry. I suppose I was just looking forward to today."

Y'sran hummed low in his throat, expression creasing into a look of concern. "I'm sorry," he replied, "I was, too. I won't be gone for long though - we can pick up where we left off."

The town centre swam into view, the almost empty streets filling with people going about their day. Any other conversation you might have had was cut off as a group of women hurried past, bowling right between you both as they chatted away. You were pushed back, tripping over uneven cobblestones, and none of them even paused to apologise. By the time they left, you were scowling.

"I think that was a sign it's time to part ways," Y'sran murmured. He reached up, brushing a loose strand of hair from your face, and ghosted a kiss across your forehead. "I need to buy supplies before I leave. Think you can last a week without me?"

"I'll try," you shot back with a smirk - but the effect was lost as he gently cupped your chin between two claws and you all but melted into his touch. You were in the middle of the street for goodness sake, people weaving past you with hushed mutters as you blocked the path. Yet in that moment you didn't care.

Y'sran's kiss was soft, mouth curving into a smile as it met your own. It was slow, chaste, barely giving you time to register the warmth of his skin or the taste of breakfast lingering on his tongue. Then he was moving back, hands brushing against yours, and you felt disappointment settled heavily in your stomach. "I'll see you next week," he promised with a grin, "try not to be too heartbroken."

A laugh puffed from your lips as you waved goodbye. He waved back as he disappeared into the busy street, towering above even the tallest orcs lingering by the shop fronts. You watched him go, not caring if he knew, until even his curling horns disappeared into the distance.

Then you spun on your heel and made for home, hoping the rest of the week didn't drag on too long.

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

Asking Kami and Dot to help you ready for the date was, to say the least, a terrible idea. It was all you'd talked about all week and maybe they were just glad the day had arrived, but they'd spent the entire day making you look good - even letting you borrow Dot's auburn dress, the bodice tied so tightly you couldn't breathe.

Sure, Dot had loosened it in the end, but that wasn't the point. You were overdressed and looked ridiculous. So as soon as they left you'd taken your hair down, removed the giant earrings Dot had forced to you wear, and changed the shoes for a more practical pair of boots.

Y'sran wasn't due back in town until the evening, so you passed the rest of the time rereading the letter he had sent you. At first you worried he would lose interest, that the week away would have made his attention drift - but five days into the job you had received a letter that said otherwise.

I hope this letter finds you well, and I hope the wait isn't too painful. The job is going well - I only have to deal with wild boars that have left their forest and caused trouble in a small town near Goldcrest. The pay is far too much for such an easy job, but I won't complain. I will be back by Saturday evening. I confess I haven't stopped thinking about you since we parted, so I hope you will meet me at the Black Dove for dinner. Seven o'clock. I can't wait to see you, and I hope our time apart hasn't given you second thoughts.

Yours, Y'sran

Your eyes fixed on the clock for the hundredth time today, fingers tapping restlessly against your knee. It took you barely ten minutes to walk to the Black Dove, but you just couldn't wait any longer. Hopping to your feet, you fetched shoes and a shawl, buzzing with unspent energy. You felt like a teenager with their first crush, too eager for their first date.

Outside was cold, the sky overcast with clouds, but you barely felt the chill as you hurried to lock up. The street was quiet at this time of night, and the town square wouldn't be much busier, so you forced yourself to walk at an even pace. It was quiet, and peaceful, and there was no reason to rush.

Even so, your excitement took over and you arrived too early, hovering outside of the tavern like someone up to no good. Through the window you saw the bar, with a friendly firbolg chatting away to the woman serving him. You caught sight of a few tables, most of them empty - but there was an amiable atmosphere with candles flickering and lights strung from the rafters.

Two satyrs ambled past, arms linked and laughing softly. Their horns clinked as they kissed, before disappearing inside the tavern. 

You watched them go, unable to hide your smile. Sweet. You should probably go inside too, instead of hovering outside like an idiot, so you pushed open the door and followed the satyr couple in. 

The first thing you noticed was the warmth. It hit you like a physical force, so nice compared to the cold outside, and you signed in relief. There were tables and boots scattered about the spacious room, but the back was mostly taken and besides, you wanted to sit somewhere Y'sran could find you. There was a table by the window that overlooked the street, the windowsill lined with potted plants of all colours. You assumed they were fake, but the sweet flowery scent hit you the second you sat down.

Really, you couldn't have chosen a better place for a first date. Now all you needed was the man himself. A nervous glance toward the clock - it hung above the bar, half obscured by the waitress' head - confirmed it was exactly eight-o'clock. Which, fair enough, who was ever perfectly on time anyway? Yet it didn't stop you from fixing your gaze to the street, leg bouncing under the table.

The first thing you noticed was the warmth. It hit you like a physical force, so nice compared to the cold outside, and you signed in relief. There were tables and boots scattered about the spacious room, but the back was mostly taken and besides, you wanted to sit somewhere Y'sran could find you. There was a table by the window that overlooked the street, the windowsill lined with potted plants of all colours. You assumed they were fake, but the sweet flowery scent hit you the second you sat down. The perfect spot for a date - now all you needed was him.

Waiting patiently for his arrival - or at least, as patiently as you could. It wasn't long before you saw a towering figure across the street, golden scales shimmering in the light from the disappearing sun. A moment later the bell above the tavern door chimed, and Y'sran's form filled up the entire doorway. He spotted you immediately, a smile on his face, and settled in the chair across.

"I started to think you wouldn't come," you joked, only half kidding. 

Reaching across the table to take your hand in his, his smile only widened. "I was late getting back, is all. I'm sorry to keep you waiting." The table was small - too small for Y'sran, probably - and he leaned across with ease to place a kiss against your forehead. 

You intercepted though, heart skipping, so your lips met. You doubted you'd ever get used to kissing him, to kissing features so different to your own, and you sank into the kiss with a wistful sigh. Y'sran smelled faintly of damp grass and autumn leaves from being on the road, but to you it was perfect.

A cough had you both jolting apart, cheeks flared pink. Glancing up, you were met with the tense smile of the woman from behind the bar. "You two going to order drinks?"

"Uh," you hesitated, mind blanking. How long had she been standing there? You fumbled, suddenly unable to think of a single drink you wanted.

Y'sran, as usual, saved the day. "Ale for me, please. The same for you?"

"Sure," you managed to sputter out, cheeks positively scarlet. It took all of your energy not to just bury your face in your hands - or smack your head against the table. 

The woman stalked off, swiping empty glasses from another table as she went, and you watched her with muted embarrassment. Yet as you turned to Y'sran he was beaming, barely hiding his laughter behind one huge palm. Even when he was laughing at you it didn't feel cruel, and you found a smile curling at your own features as he huffed out a muffled snort.

"Are you always this bashful?"

"In my defence, I don't usually get caught kissing."

Humming in agreement, he simply took your hand once more. It always made you feel giddy, the casual show of affection - and maybe he knew. Maybe that was why he did it so often. Regardless, you spent a moment just enjoying the contact, the warmth.

"So," Y'sran spoke, turning to admire the flowers on the windowsill. They really were pretty, but his attention didn't last, instead focusing on you. "You have my undivided attention, finally. And I'd like to get to know you."

You wanted to get to know him, and you couldn't imagine anything you could tell him was more interesting than his adventures beyond Dawncross. But he was looking at you so intently, his free hand propping up his chin and his eyes soft, and you melted under his gaze. So you told him everything, however boring - about your family, your life in Dawncross, Kami and Dot and all of your other friends, about your job and your garden and plans for the future.

He told you about his life too. His travelling party consisted of four other dragonborn; two of them brothers he met on the road, the other two childhood friends. Dragonborn could live long lives, and some of them had been travelling longer than Y'sran or you had been alive. He told you of his family, of which he had two brothers and a sister living all over the country. He lived such a rich, interesting life it made you nostalgic for something you'd never even had.

Drinks arrived and were polished off, and you ordered several more rounds after your meal, too. Hardly even aware of the time passing, you only noticed when the tavern began to grow quiet. What had already been a peaceful tavern was now almost empty - just you, Y'sran, and a group of giggling women in the corner.  

"We're closing up soon," the woman called from the bar, "ten minutes."

The group of women - mostly orcs and humans - grumbled quietly, but they finished their drinks without complaint. 

Turning to Y'sran, you offered a lopsided smile. There was a faint buzz in the back of your mind, but you'd been drinking weak ale and you hardly even noticed the effects. "I suppose we should get going. I get the impression we wouldn't want to anger her."

He hummed in agreement, a sound deep in his throat that made you shiver. "Can I walk you home?"

"If you didn't ask, I would have."

You left together, hand in hand, although with the height difference you were sure it couldn't have been comfortable for him. You meandered down the street together, enjoying the quiet. It was cooler tonight, thick clouds looming in the dark sky, but next to Y'sran you were quickly warmed.

With your house so close it was mere minutes before you reached your destination. Disappointment settled as you unlocked the door, turning to him with a smile. "I'd hate to cut this short," you murmured, nudging his hand, "would you like to come in again?" This time, you didn't intend it to be just for drinks.

His smile came so naturally, fangs glinting in the dim light. "I'd love to," he replied.

You slipped inside, hand intertwined with his as you led him in too. Y'sran had to duck through the doorway and you stifled a giggle, but the laughter was interrupted by a gasp as Y'sran swept you up in his broad, scaled arms. Your heart jumped into your throat, hands grasping at the thin fabric of his tunic - but of course, you weighed practically nothing to him and soon you settled into the embrace.

"It's cold," he murmured, "should we make tea to warm us up?"

Your faces were mere inches from each other, is breath warm against your skin, and you placed a kiss to the corner of his mouth. "Tea's nice, but I was thinking of... something else." This bravery in you was rare, and you couldn't even blame it on being drunk this time, but as your heart skittered in your chest you took the chance and crushed your lips to his.

Y'sran met your kiss with equal intensity. His grip around your waist tightened, but his claws hardly skimmed your skin. He couldn't kiss you like a human could, but his tongue swiped at your lower lip and he tasted of ale and sweet honey from your meal, and he was just so damn gentle you felt yourself relaxing into him. Then he nibbled at your lower lip and you gasped, his tongue slipping past your open mouth to explore you further.

Your hand found the side of his jaw, caressing the rough scales there. You broke the kiss, panting heavily as your heart thundered in your ears - but you weren't done. Shifting in his arms, you trailed lingering smooches across the angular line of his jaw, down his neck, smiling as he shivered. You paused just above the neck of his tunic, tugging at the fabric.

"Are you sure?" Y'sran murmured.

You could have laughed, but the barely contained lust in his expression had the sound catching in your throat. "I've wanted you since we met," you answered honestly - and he knew it, too. If he had turned you down that first time, worried you only wanted it because you were drunk, he didn't need to worry about that now. To prove your point you kissed him again, nipping at the tender skin of his collar bone.

A low growl emanated from deep within his throat, his hands clenching around your waist. His pupils were blown so wide you could hardly see the dark amber of his iris, and it made you squirm in his grasp. He must have noticed, because his iron grip loosened and he flushed - just a rosy pink beneath the gold.

"You know where the bedroom is. What are you waiting for?" Brushing a hand across his horns, you smiled - and Y'sran trembled under your attention. Interesting. Experimentally you touched him again, a feather-light touch from the base of his horn right to the tip. It elicited the same response - a low hum, eyes fluttering, and a shudder ran through his entire body.

Well, that's something to keep in mind for later, you thought devilishly.

It wasn't long before Y'sran was carrying you to the bedroom, squeezing through the narrow doorway to lay you down on the soft mattress. The bed dipped beneath his weight and you tilted toward him - he hesitated, a frown creasing his features.

"It'll hold," you murmured, "so get over here."

It was all the encouragement he needed. Knees braced on either side of you, Y'sran lowered himself onto the bed with gentle cautiousness. Then he swept you into another bruising kiss, his fangs nipping at your delicate lips, and the rest of his inhibitions dissolved into nothing. He was a solid weight above you, blocking out even the tiniest streak of light from the window, and he looked absolutely perfect.

Your hands fumbled for his clothes as you kissed, finding the belt around his waist and tearing it off - it was tossed aside, landing with a heavy thud somewhere by the door. Then you reached for his tunic too, hands fisting around the thin fabric. Y'sran raised his arms, breaking the kiss just long enough for you to discard the shirt, before your lips joined again. 

When he reached for your own clothes, you wasted no time in stripping them away. The stockings went first, Y'sran's claws hooking around the fabric and peeling them from your legs. The dress went next, then your stays, but the awkwardness of wriggling out of the restricting garments only made the anticipation better.

Once you were fully naked beneath him, Y'sran moved back to admire your form. His breath came in heavy gasps, eyes roving over every inch of exposed skin. "Beautiful," he murmured, hands skimming over your stomach. 

"Pretty gorgeous yourself," you replied, admiring the thick, ropey muscle of his torso. He was scarred, patches of scales marred or missing, thin grooves cut into his skin - but that only made him more lovely. Heat was beginning to spread through you, desire making you so restless you were squirming just from looking. But oh, you could have looked forever.

Wordlessly, you helped Y'sran out of his remaining clothes. His hands never left you, exploring every part of you he could reach. One hand enveloped your breast entirely, claws cold but hands warm. He palmed at you, a soft sigh leaving him, and you let out a groan of your own as you tossed his trousers and underwear aside.

In the heat of the moment, you hadn't even realised he was hard. Now, with your eyes fixed on him in the semi-darkness, it became impossible to miss. He was proportionate, but that didn't make him any less huge. His dick lay heavily between his thighs and yours, pale golden scales morphing into tanned, pinkish skin.

Y'sran must have taken your hesitation for concern, his eyes dark. "Too much? We don't have to-"

"I want to," you reassured, a gentle hand skimming across the soft skin of his inner thigh. He shivered, untensing just a little, and let out a low hum that left you aching. "Just go slow, all right?"

"I will. Promise."

Y'sran dipped down to capture your lips in a burning kiss, grabbing eager handfuls of your tender flesh - then his free hand reached between your thighs, a ragged gasp of appreciation leaving his lips. He said nothing - didn't need to, because the intensity of his hot gaze said it all.

When his first finger slipped between you, you groaned; arching into his palm as heat streaked through your core. He was gentle as he worked you, murmuring sweet word you could hardly comprehend, your mind fuzzy, skin burning up. Hands grasped at his hips, pulled him down toward you so you could plant wet, messy kisses along his neck.

He was groaning too, breath sharp and heavy as his hand worked inside of you. "You feel so good," he murmured breathlessly, "I can't wait to get inside you."

It was those words, said in a breathless whisper as his dark eyes met yours, that did it. Back arched, hands gripping his hips so tightly they turned white, you came with a soft cry of release that left your head spinning. You came too fast, too soon, but you didn't have it in you to feel even a shred of embarrassment.

Y'sran loomed above you, a smirk playing at the corner of his mouth. "I barely even got started," he teased. His hand came away slick and damp, and just that sight alone had lust bubbling within you once again. Then he ducked down, the bed squealing dangerously beneath him, to brush his lips against the soft skin below your navel.

You squirmed beneath him, face flushed and heart impatient. "Y'sran," you murmured, "any other time I would be loving this - but I swear to God if you don't-"

"Eager, aren't you?" He lifted his head, eyes sparkling, that beautiful, familiar smile spread across his handsome features.

"I'm not kidding." You shot him an even look - but it was ruined by the desperate little whimper as Y'sran dug his fingers into your thighs. 

"Well, I wouldn't want to keep you waiting," he said - as if this was all for you, as if you couldn't see the way his eyes darted across your body or feel how his enormous hands kneaded at your flesh. He was thrumming with energy, dick twitching against your thighs and eager gaze drinking you up. "Are you ready?"

"Yes."

Y'sran was just as gentle as he promised, guiding himself to you with painful slowness. Yet it didn't prepare you - he filled you up, left you gasping and panting as his huge body shifted on top of you. A part of you was worried for the bed, worried it was too old and too weak - but those thoughts, and any others, were abandoned as Y'sran began to move.

What began as slow, rhythmic movements quickly began to increase. His pace quickened and you struggled to keep up, heart thundering against your ribs and breath catching in your throat. Everything about him felt amazing - the hands grasping at your breasts, claws digging in just enough not to leave marks. His thighs squeezing yours, forcing himself deeper inside you. Even his tail, which had curled around your ankle, was perfect.

"Shit," Y'sran murmured, "you're so good. Perfect. Y-you take me so well."

The heat within you was mounting, vision struggling to focus. Hands, damp with sweat, dug into his hard scales. Lip caught between your teeth, you let out a strangled moan as Y'sran thrust inside of you - it didn't take him long to find a sweet spot and soon enough you were panting his name between heavy, laboured breaths.

Y'sran kissed you, fangs grazing your teeth as he thrust too hard, your heads bumping. For a moment you both lost the rhythm - Y'sran recovered first, your name a whisper in his throat. It tickled your skin, made you shudder, made a home in your heart. He repeated it over and over like a mantra, and you simply couldn't hold it in any longer.

Heat flooded as the orgasm rocked through you - you saw stars, mind going white before you came crashing back down. Y'sran followed moments later, a low growl emanating in his throat and you felt his chest rumble against your own. He collapsed beside you, bed creaking, and pulled you against his side. He was slick with come and sweat, but you slung a leg across his thighs anyway, unable to care about anything except for his warmth.

"Worth the wait?" Y'sran asked - and the way he looked at you, eyes pinched and snout twisted, it seemed like a genuine question.

"Better than I could have imagined," you replied truthfully, "and believe me, I spent plenty of time imagining." As your heart rate returned to normal you managed to sit up, still a little wobbly, to sit atop his wide thighs. 

He looked up at you with questioning eyes, but there was a cheeky glimmer there too. "Already?"

"I've been told dragonborn bounce back quickly," you replied with a grin, "I feel like I should find out for myself just how true that it."

His laugh was deep, jostling you until you had to brace hands against his expansive chest. Then he grabbed your butt, claws making you shiver, and sent you a beaming grin. "I could go all night.

"Good," you shot back with a laugh of your own, "so could I." Then you ducked down, nibbling at his lower jaw, and knew exactly when Y'sran was ready for round two.

[friskyjackalope]

Its taken me since my last post to get screenshots. Why? The trap of:

“I’ll just decorate a bit more.”

Three days later and my build has grown to almost the entirety of Scarlet Sands. I went through a large process with this build emotionally. I got very excited for it and started off strong, but the past two days I’ve been wanting to grab McSmashy and demolish it and start over after more planning.

Thankfully I’ve gotten to the place of liking it again, though it needs a lot more work. Unfortunately said work will have to wait until I get the Utilimallet because I need to place trees, cacti and rocks. You know the fun landscaping shit.

But, after two days of saying ‘this needs a lantern’, forgetting the lantern and building a new barn or some shit, Screenshots are here.

I’ll say a bit about each picture, in case anyone cares.

 1.       How I planned. I can’t explain how I do it, but I’m pretty okay at terraforming. I was using any block I had on me that would clash with the sand and rock to plan out the first initial steps. Trowel on the finishing block. Most of it ended up being chalk, but was changed to a base of Sandstone, Sandy Sandstone and Sand. The flower and Arid Earth blocks are the two sides of my wall. One wide is too thin, and two didn’t feel right.

2.       The Armorer for Scarlet Sands. This and the accompanying shops (pic 3) were one of those ‘I need something in the background or I’ll scream’ things. It’s 4 enterable rooms and 2 fake ones up top. I decorated with coffee beans because I like the wood/red/adobe and brick combo. The green is vibrant as well—thanks contrasting colors!

3.       My  items shop. I’ve never gotten one to work, and I don’t know why. But still, its there, registers as a small item shop. Meh. It’ll work eventually.

4.       The outside of my barn that was again a panic build. (See inside of barn in picture 5.) I had been doing most of the buildings with the wooden panels for ‘structural integrity’ but this area is my ‘green space so I went with the hanging plants. I wanted to give the villagers somewhere to sit between working fields, so that’s how this little area came about.

5.       My barn’s interior. The villagers are in here a lot.

6.       The view from the roof of my barn. It shows off my farms, which I’m very proud of, as well as the restaurant, and town hall/city center. In the far back is the Inn where most everyone sleeps while I’m decorating houses.

7.       This is the paddock outside the barn. I decided to give my dogs, PUPPER and San (KPOP, anyone? (my sister is a fan)) The Brick wall to the right is stairs for another building, so I put more of the wall plants to fill space.

8.       This is the top of the Barn itself. I find Rosie up here a lot, which is cute. I really enjoy the scene—like these farmers have little parties up here after a late night.

9.       My pool for the Scarlet sands. It’s in that little oasis FAAAR back from the tablet. I can do more in depth on this because there’s a lot of parts. Fish ponds, pool, hot spring, bar and hot tub. Also, after this shot I added a changing room and shower room.

10.   Said bar/hot tub up top. It registered as a garden, but they’ll still drink on occasion. It’s one of my favorite parts of the entire area. Its not done yet, but I’m not sure what’ll finish it off properly.

  So yeah. That’s what I’ve been working on this week. Hope everyone enjoys. If you have any questions or want to see something specific, I’ll answer asap!  

[whump-town]

Hand In Unlovable Hand

While out on a case Hotch gets bitten by a rattlesnake, the team races to get him to medical attention before the situation turns fatal for their friend.

Warning: snakes / snake bites

Growing up, Aaron Hotchner’s father often bought his mother’s silence through small gifts. The brightest flowers he could find and spent hours in the Virginia heat planting them just where she liked in the garden. Every summer until it was some morbid tradition of theirs. He’d be woken early one Saturday by his father, his mother in her best summer dress, and they’d shop for these flowers until his mother was perfectly content. Eventually, the florist stopped regarding his oversized sweaters in the middle of June and he was thankful for their blissful chosen ignorance.

The price of these wondrous, well-loved flowers was blood. They were blood money and they paid adequately for her silence. His father never worried what Aaron might say, to whom he might speak up because he was never dumb enough to assume he could buy his son’s silence. But Aaron was always quick to stop fighting so long as Sean and his mother were left alone. So, he didn’t touch them and they remained, what appeared, to be the perfect family.

In the middle of his mother’s blooming garden, had been a pond. Aaron and his father had dragged up giant rocks from the creek. On those large rocks, he could lay for hours reading or writing or just thinking. Burning in the sun was always a better option than being stuck in that house.

Which is how he’d encountered his first snake. It was just a simple rat snake, not too bothered with Aaron. He got used to seeing the rat snakes around his mother’s ponds and in the mulch around her flowers. Comfortable enough that he’d been taken by complete surprise the first time he went to move one and it struck him. He hadn’t made a sound when it clamped down but it’d shaken him pretty good. The adrenaline folded him and he’d ended up puking.

That night he thought he’d die in his sleep so when he woke up the next morning he was surprised. Yeah, as it turns out, rat snacks aren’t venomous and he got much better at catching them and moving them. No more bites but it made an interesting story to tell in college so long as he left out the right details.

So, in other words, Aaron Hotchner’s understanding of snakes is minimal but more experienced than one might think. And that’s exactly why things went so wrong so quickly.

“Oh,” Rossi hisses as he looks down over the bank’s edge. “I’m not going down there.” He hooks his thumb into his belt loop and takes a step back. There’s more than just an air of finality in his conviction, it’s a certainty. No one can say anything that will guilt him down that hill.

Reid looks nervously to Hotch, then to Morgan. Waiting with that flickering uncertainty of his for someone else to speak up for him. Anxiety a striking pit viper in his stomach, slithering its way up his throat every second that passes. His knee aches from the idea alone of having to walk up or down that bank of the river they’re standing by.

“You can direct us from the bank,” Hotch excuses. He nods at Reid and without the words even having left his mouth, Reid knows he’s being allowed the sweet serenity of staying up here. “We don’t all need to go down. You’re free to stay on the bank, Reid.” That and maybe the rushing water below scares him a little. He’s not a strong swimmer and he’s fairly certain if he falls in no one’s swimming in after him.

(One, the water is not that deep but it is quick. Two, surely, someone would come in after him-- not Rossi, certainly not JJ, but maybe Hotch or Emily).

Morgan is entirely unenthused about the prospect of what awaits down that bank. It’s steep. It’s muddy. They have pictures of the scene, why can’t they just use the damn pictures. “Is going down there really worth breaking our necks?” Just because Hotch wants to play cowboy and get back into small-town roots doesn’t mean Morgan feels like slipping in this thick, clay-like mud and dying for the cause.

Prentiss comes up beside him, pinching at his side where his jeans come over his hips. “Aw,” she teases. “Morgan doesn’t want to get his shoes dirty.” She doesn’t hesitate to keep moving, edging down the bank after Hotch who is only a few hesitantly placed steps ahead.

Morgan rolls his eyes, why he lets himself be bullied by the likes of Prentiss he doesn’t know but it’s too late now and there’s no way he’s going to let her get the last say.

JJ may not have grown up in the south but she’s not going to let a silly little bank stop her. That is until she stumbles and she winds up crashing into Hotch. Who, by the way, is like a fucking brick wall. He doesn’t budge an inch and easily rights her back on her feet again like it’s nothing. “You’d be fine to stay on the bank,” he informs her softly.

She knows it’s not to undermine her decision so much as to assure her that she is not bound by anything to be stumbling down here. Morgan and Emily, maybe. Hotch needs dumb and dumber coming in with him but her part of the job doesn’t require it. Not that he really needs to tell her that. He never tells her what to do and she’s always appreciated that.

“I can’t leave you down here with those two,” JJ informs him. She nods her head behind them, to Prentiss and Morgan actively arguing and fumbling down the bank.

Hotch frowns at the two of them and grunts at JJ’s comment. Fair. He offers her his hand and she takes it gratefully. They both make it to the water’s edge without further incident. The same can’t be said for Morgan and Emily. When they get to the bottom, Morgan has mud up the side of his left leg. He slipped and ran it down the side of the bank. Emily’s hands are covered in it.

Emily shakes her head and comes to stand in between JJ and Hotch. She shakes her head when JJ raises an eyebrow in question at the sight of her smacking her hands together to get the mud off. “Morgan pushed me,” she informs her.

Which is a statement guaranteed to start an argument so Hotch moves the conversation on. “Getting down here takes a lot of work,” Hotch mumbles, moving a tree branch from his line of sight as he ventures a step further. “Definitely a local.” No one else is going to even consider this river as an option and no one else would try it. “Physically strong.”

Morgan huffs, “yeah, I’d say. It’d be nothing to break an ankle coming down that bank. You’d have to be confident to come down here at night and while carrying a body.”

Emily frowns, “carried?”

“No drag marks,” Hotch comments, squatting right where the water laps at the grass. He puts a hand down to steady himself, knees protesting this position, but he’s trying to see how murky the water is. Considering why it is that the Unsub had left his victim on the bank to be found when the water would have easily hidden the body for days. Maybe longer.

“Do you think he was hiding her? Going to come back?”

Hotch doesn’t need to look to know it’s Emily standing against his side. He nods, that’s the conclusion he was getting to. “He could have tied her down,” he motions to the water. “It’s a few feet deep there,” he motions to the section of murky water a little further out. The surface nearly still-- his mother’s old warning playing through his head: “still water runs deep”. He’s found it to be true a majority of the time. “If he was looking to dump the body we would have never found her.”

Emily turns from him, biting her lip. She doesn’t want that to bother her. All of it, she doesn’t want Hotch’s words to send a shiver of pain down her back. Her eyes still move up to JJ, her soft blonde strands of hair tucked up into her ponytail. She’s all Emily sees when she looks at this victim and she knows Hotch sees Haley.

The two of them are always a double-edged sword. Keeping up the mirage of being unfazed keeps professionalism but it creates this doubt. And, though she does the same, there’s a spark of curiosity that runs through her. How human can Hotch really be if he can do this job so well? It makes her sick to her stomach to doubt him like that. He’s the other half of her coin. Too different to be the same but too similar to separate.

“Ho--Hotch!?” All four of them look up, eyes searching above them until they find Reid and the single finger he points out far ahead of himself.

“Jesus Ch--”

“Don’t move.” Hotch is standing closest to it but JJ is right beside him. “It’s just a snake,” he sounds far calmer than he is. He knows two things for certain: (1) venomous snakes have a more triangular-shaped head and (2) this snake has a triangular-shaped head. Which doesn’t sound nearly as helpful now that’s he’s considering it.

Morgan has backed himself to the edge of the bank, as far as he can get from the snake (he’s snagged JJ up in his stumble back).

The snake swims towards them, wiggling in a hypnotizing back and forth sway.

“Ho—Hotch? Should—Should you really be doing that?”

Squatting down, Hotch gathers a large stone. One that spreads his fingers out as it rests in his palm and he doesn’t have small hands. “It's either a rattlesnake or a copper mouth,” he says with a certainty Emily finds odd. How would he know? But that doesn’t matter. What he knows for sure is that snakes don’t like being messed with and if he just splashes some water at this thing it’ll fuck off.

Emily is standing right beside him, enraptured enough to stay right where she is. Forcing her hands down at her sides and to not cower behind him. “Is one preferable?” She spent the majority of her childhood in Europe and her time here hasn’t been spent learning the types of snakes that live on this side of the coast. She doesn’t even know what a cottonmouth is (well she knows about getting cotton mouth from smoking but she senses that’s not what he means).

Hotch feels himself getting worked up, too emotional to aim properly. He’s a little scared. “A cottonmouth is more likely to bite,” he informs her. They’re aggressive little shits. “But a rattlesnake is more likely to kill.” He doesn’t see a rattle but he also doesn’t really know what he’s looking for.

“So we want the cottonmouth?” Emily touches his sleeve, needing something to ground her. 

“It's not a cottonmouth, is it?”

Hotch doesn’t comment. Swallowing thickly he tosses the rock, jumping when the snake jerks in the water and speeds up. It turns sharply and stops and though it’s farther away it’s not gone. It’s staring him down and, though, he’s not sure what it’s next move is he doesn’t want it to double back this way. He bends back down for another rock.

“Hotch!”

Oh. So that’s what a rattle looks like. Okay, yeah, so that’s a rattlesnake and whatever that is in the water is not a rattlesnake. Good to know.

He jerks his hand back, the sting of the bite immediate, but he stared down George Foyet and he’s got a sinking feeling that the “don’t show any fear” profile needs to be implemented here too. “Emily,” he can feel her still hovering just over his shoulder. Still well within striking distance of the snake curling around itself only a foot from him. “Emily move slowly to Morgan.”

There was a second snake, of course, there was, right there with them the whole time. Before silent and now raised up and shaking its little rattled tail at them in a warning that’s coming a bit too late given the deep ache in Hotch’s hand.

Why does she have to argue with everything he says? “No,” she says firmly. Her eyes are caught on the rattle raised in the air. Shaking. That thing is pissed and she’s not going to leave Hotch sitting on the ground right in its warpath. “I’m not going to leave you for--for snake bait.” She moves slowly to crouch behind his back. “What can we do? Shoot it?”

The outright anger in his voice is good, that means he’s okay. “Shoot it,” he whispers hotly. “Great idea, Emily. Then I can add getting shot to today’s list of unfortunate accidents. Right alongside getting bitten by a rattlesnake!” His luck would have him clipped by a bullet hitting a rock.

“Don’t get pissy with me--”

“Hey,” Morgan fusses. They all stop, frozen in fear when the snake raises its head. “Would you two get it together?” Shooting the snake is not a good idea. Any sudden movement from Hotch is going to get him bitten, again. Emily is standing just behind him and to have her shoot it is definitely going to deafen Hotch. Not to mention, there’s the all too real threat of hitting a rock and having the bullet come back and hit one of them. So that leaves what? Distracting it?

Morgan shakes his head, “how fast can you get up and get away, Hotch?”

Hotch’s entire hand is throbbing to the point that it feels like his hand pulses, genuinely moves. Though he can see that he can move his fingers, he can’t feel them. His fear is that if he tries to get up and move, he won’t get away fast enough. Passing out is probably not ideal right now and he’s certain that if he stands too quickly he’s going to drop.

Behind him, Emily turns to glance at Morgan and shakes her head. Her hand has worked its way between Hotch’s shoulder blades and she can feel his racing heart and the fact that his entire body is shaking. He’s going to drop like a ton of rocks if he stands up and that’s not ideal, in any sort of way.

Fuck.

“I’m going to run at it,” Morgan says. Emily and JJ both look at him like he’s crazy. However, he can see Hotch’s shoulder making rapid, shaking rises as he breathes. The way he seems to have popped a leak, leaning heavier and heavier to the left. “Emily,” he leans down and gathers a rock in each hand. “Unless you want me to get bitten too, get him up. Do you understand?”

Emily looks at the snake, still curling and seething, and then at Morgan. She nods. She moves, sitting on her haunches, and moves her hands under Hotch’s. “Ready?” she asks. Hotch nods. “Okay.”

“This is an awful idea,” JJ whispers.

Morgan agrees. “On three,” he announces. He’s going to run at it, throw rocks (try not to hit it), and distract it enough that no one else gets bitten. “One, two--” he shouts, and rushes the snake.

Hotch struggles to get up but the snake is not worried about him, its focus has moved to Morgan. Emily pulls him back, they stumble blindly a few feet back, JJ coming in to stop them from going any further.

Morgan scares the snake off. It strikes the air and he tosses a rock near its head. Enough to make it move back rather than closer. It keeps moving backward, the rattle still measuring its displeasure but it’s not coming towards them. “Everyone okay,” Morgan asks, walking backward, eyes never leaving the snake.

“Ugh,” Emily is half-holding Hotch upright. Her half in reply is all she manages to get out before Hotch roughly pushes himself away from her side. He makes it three stumbling steps before he hits the rocks hard and gags bringing up nothing thin watery vomit. To which Emily winces and turns her head. He might have taken three steps but that hardly put any distance between them.

Squatting down beside him, she places a sympathetic hand on his upper back. “I’ve never been so thankful for your awful eating habits,” she comments. He hangs his head groaning and drawing his hurt hand to his chest, cradling it.

He hates her. God, he needs new friends.

“We’re alive,” Emily answers, rubbing Hotch’s back.

Morgan sighs with relief, eyeing the snake still out of the corner of his eye. Now they just need to get up this hill.

Shakily rising back to his feet, Hotch clears his throat. Trying to preserve some part of his dignity he rolls his shoulder, dropping Emily’s hand. Weakly, voice not nearly as strong as he’d like he mumbles, “ ‘m okay.” His body is drooped to the side, pale lips parted as he pulls in quick, shallow breaths makes it a little hard to believe that. “Gotta--” he swallows down against the raspy quality of his voice. Forcing it to work, to sound normal. “We have to get up the hill. There’s a hospital ‘bout… about fifteen minutes away. It’s fine.”

He already looks pale enough to drop dead.

Even Emily knows better than to fight. She just wishes she wasn’t such a coward but still, she steps back and lets Hotch maneuver himself. Morgan steps close behind, falling into line with Hotch’s lurching, stuttered steps. No one touches him, no one says a word. JJ glances at Morgan and Emily, raising an eyebrow in silent question as to why neither will do anything.

Emily could. He’s more likely to accept her touch and she can physically help to a degree, capable of at least helping a little. He won’t like Morgan at all which is why Morgan follows silently right behind him. If Hotch falls, he’ll fall into Morgan who waits without question to be that help. Without comment, if he’s needed.

He slips in the mud, aware of their eyes watching his every move. A hand lands on his back, steadying, strong. Morgan.

Each step throws a wrench in his hammering heart. His pulse is way too fast and he’s gone from feeling each contraction of the tired muscles like a heated thud in his face to not feeling his face at all. The skin numb.

Finally, his foot hits the grass and he heaves himself up the final step. Never so grateful to see the grass so much in his life. It’s solid underneath his feet, doesn’t threaten to propel him to the side with its slick sludge-like malleability. Someone calls his name and he looks up, sees the worry in Reid’s eyes as he steps close. He opens his mouth and nothing comes out. He’s cold, shivering, and without a warning, not even a grunt to acknowledge the pain that has spread much farther than his hand, he hits the ground.

(there will be a part 2)

[painting-wings]

Secret garden | ASTRO |

Description: You knew about a secret garden that had the most beautiful flowers and the rarest of flowers but there was something interesting with the people who looked after them. 

Warnings: None

Astro x fem reader

M.list

A/N: *fun fact this story has been sitting in my drafts* but Here it is a short drabble of the events inspired by the song and video ( all night )  enjoy! 

                                                            ****

Everyday on your walk to work you always pass this greenhouse, it’s big and grand. Inside is always filled with healthy plants that hug the glass windows, attached is a small house which is consumed in vines and ivy. It looks aesthetically pleasing, but today you wanted to know what was inside. 

Walking past the stone wall that guarded the greenhouse, you notice the tall iron gate wide open. A stone path that seemed very inviting almost like the yellow brick road, looking around and peering into the garden you notice that there is no one around, just as you're about to leave and carry on your day a small whisper of your name catches your attention. 

“Hello?” you say as you take a small step into the garden, walking over the threshold you feel a soft wind swirl around you intoxicating you with a sweet smell of flowers. Gently pushing open one of the glass doors of the green house you are amazed at how beautiful this place was. 

Hand carved stone path that had swirls of patterns made by different colour stones, hues of green from the shrubbery as well as splashes of pink, red and purple, walking around this wonderland of perfect plants there is a fountain in the middle, the bottom is a pond while the other tiers of the fountain are consumed by lavender and soft pink carnation flowers. 

Captured in its beauty you knew this was trespassing on someone's land as well as home, looking around one last time you hear some soft talking as well as clinking of glassware. Timidly you go in further to investigate, peering over one of the large bushes of a flower you never seen before, there was a boy wearing a white flowy shirt and beige pants his dark hair contrasting with the vibrant colours around him as he looks at some light purple substance in a test tube. As well as other glassware with more unusual substances in them. 

To be oblivious you did not feel the new body that was standing next to you. “Can I help you miss?” a soft voice spoke, making you gasp and jump back nearly falling into a bush. 

“I - I am so sorry” you speak as you try to compose yourself. 

“Sorry for what?” he speaks again but this time it’s not the flowers that are holding the beauty, another dark haired boy, wearing a pastel rose shirt, matching pants. His features look like they were blessed from heaven. 

“I’m trespassing...I’m sorry, I walk past here everyday and your flowers always look so beautiful anyway I should really go” in a flustered state you go to walk past him but he gently grabs your wrist. 

“Miss please stay, no one said you were trespassing and if you like the garden so much feel free to look around i’m sure the other boys won’t mind” he spoke giving you a smile that melted your heart. 

“Other boys?” you mumble, as this mysterious guy leads you up some stone steps into another part of the green house, this time it looks more like a conservatory. 

Inside the flowers and plants still follow as the floral pattern on the furniture matches the plants consuming the walls. “I didn’t get your name?” he asks you. 

“Y/n my name is Y/n and yours?” you ask him as he takes your hand gently kissing the back of your hand. 

“Cha Eunwoo nice to meet you Y/n. would you like to meet the other boys?” Eunwoo asks as your face is probably as read as the rose bush next to you, giving him a slow nod.

Turning the corner you see a boy similar to Eunwoo but he has pink hair, wearing the same colour clothing. He looks peaceful with his eyes closed, that is until you approach his eyes gently open to reveal bright blue eyes. 

“Cha Eunwoo who’s your friend” he speaks giving you slight shivers as his cat shaped eyes look fondly at you. 

“This is y/n and she was admiring the garden we have” Eunwoo spoke “Y/n meet Moonbin” you give him a small wave as he lounged on the floral sofa they have giving you a smirk. 

You felt Eunwoo gently grab your elbow as he led out of back into the main garden area, taking in more of the unusual plant life, the soft lighting made everything look like a dream from Eunwoo pastel coloured shirt that flowed as he walked, and also his dreamy looks. 

Eunwoo took you to another part of the greenhouse tucked into the corner was iron railings that went up and over into a curve creating a cosy hiding place filled to the brim of a rose wall, in the middle was a table with beautifully designed glassware. But sitting at the table was another boy, he looked younger, he had a cuteness to him. Watching him intently he held something in his hands, to your curiosity yourself and Eunwoo walked in.

“Sanha, this is Y/n she came to admire our beautiful garden” Eunwoo spoke as Sanha placed a goldfish into a cup of water, you wanted to question his choice but decided not to, Sanha looked up at you and smiled. 

“Hai! I’m Sanha, thank you for liking our garden” his smile is bright as you smile back. Before you get a chance to ask him anything you hear someone coming up behind you and Eunwoo. 

“Eunwoo, Sanha and friend I’m Mj nice to meet you” Mj says brightly as his smile has an effect on you, making you feel warm and happy inside. Enwoo gives a small wave, “what are you doing Mj?” Eunwoo asks Mj as he holds up the basket filled with lemons. 

“I was going to make some fresh lemonade, have you seen Rocky yet I need to ask him a few things.” 

Eunwoo plucked a pink flower from one of the bushes nearby as he twisted it between his fingers, giving a sigh “No I haven’t seen him but I assume he is with Jinjin.” You looked at his side profile and was still in awe by his features, you still believed that this was a dream, how have you walked into this mystical place with the most handsomest people, it was definitely a fairytale dream. 

“Y/n I think you meet the other two” Eunwoo speaks softly, again gently grabbing your elbow “I think I saw one of the others, he had dark hair and was doing some chemistry?” You question as Eunwoo gives a small smile, “Ah yes that would be Rocky he is our Botanist” you must’ve given Eunwoo a puzzled look as he let out a small breathy laugh, “Botanist is someone who studies plants and experiments with them, Come I will show you” being led off to the other side of the green house near to where you first saw Rocky, hearing the clinking of glassware, the small sound of something bubbling over and the delicate smell of flowers hung in the air. 

You had a sense of déjà vu when you saw Rocky again but now you knew his name, you stood behind Eunwoo timidly peeking from behind him, Rocky looked so intently on the glass beaker that had purple liquid in it, swirling it around, “Rocky, are you busy?” Eunwoo spoke as Rocky glanced over, slowly placing down the beaker, his face held little emotion, his eyes flickered over to you, studying you as you slowly slipped out from behind Eunwoo’s shadow. 

“No I’m not busy” his voice was calm, “who is the guest?” he questioned; Eunwoo placed a hand on your shoulder pushing you forward “Rocky meet Y/n” you gave a small wave feeling somewhat of an intimidation from Rocky as he gave a small nod of the head. “Not much of a talker” you mumbled. “I’d rather observe” he replied, you clenched your jaw, casting your eyes away from his not wanting to feel intimidated.

 The room was silent for a moment as a new voice came out of nowhere, “I wouldn’t take it too personally Rocky isn’t much of a talker” the voice was slow, you spun around to see a guy with pink hair sitting up in a tree, reading a book. “You must be Jinjin'' you blurted as he gave a smile “how do you know?” he asked again with a smirk growing on his face, “I just guessed and you're the last one I haven’t met yet” you replied seeing Jinjin’s eyes light up, jumping down from the tree you noticed that he was slightly shorter than his other friends. “Well now that you have why don’t you stay for dinner?” Jinjin proposed kindly taking your hand, you glanced down at your now entwined hands and you felt a blush slowly pink your cheeks. 

“I, well I should really be going I was only stopping by-” “it's already noon”  Eunwoo spoke over you as your eyes widened, looking down at the watch on your wrist it read 2:30pm, realisation started to catch up with you as it was only morning when you first wondered in and you was only having a quick glance, with all these thoughts building, you became overwhelmed and then 

You blacked out. 

                                                           --

Your eyes slowly opened, everything was bright, when they adjusted you was in a white room with vines climbing the walls as they were decorated with pink flowers of various shades, you was laying on a big bed, lifting your head up looking around the minimal room, your eyes landed on a figure sitting in a bathtub in the corner of the room. Confused was an understatement, sitting up in the bed you soon realised that it was Moonbin sitting in the bathtub, you watched him slip under the water. Panic set in as you jumped out of the bed and over to the tub to see him under and the water filled with flower petals, just as you went to grab him his eyes opened and he broke the surface.  

“Moonbin!” you panicked, held his head down low watching the water roll off his body “you never seen someone take a bath before?” he questioned, glancing up at you with his cat eyes, “you take baths in your clothes” you deadpanned watching him break out into a laugh. “Hahaha...no maybe I should take my shirt off,” he began to unbutton his shirt, squirming as you placed your hands over your eyes, “NO! No no keep the shirt on I will find you a new one- a dry one!”  running out of the room and down the corridor you soon noticed that you don’t know where you are going and that the walls were glass with unusual flowers behind them.

“Oh Y/n your up” a voice behind you as you whipped around and saw it was Mj “oh MJ hi..i’m a little lost” you spoke as Mj broke out his beaming smile, “no worries Y/n I will help, did Moonbin wake you?” he asked “Erm..yea but does he normally take baths in this clothes?” you questioned. Mj shook his head and sighed “I need to remind him to stop doing that, the others are in the downstairs if you wanted to be with them” you nodded as then being escorted towards the room where the rest of them were. Coming down a spiraling staircase, into a grand foyer with a large chandelier hanging in the centre of the dome ceiling, that was framed by four pillars. Going through a large grey door you see the rest of the boys lounging on sofas, the first to your surprise was Rocky who spoke first. 

“Y/n how are you?” as he flashed a smile, that made you melt on the inside, trying to form words you stood there looking like a fish with your bobbing mouth, Sanha giggled “looks like she fell under the rocky swag spell” Eunwoo playfully punched Sanha in the arm making him squeak. 

“I’m fine thank you Rocky” you replied as his smile grew and he nodded, satisfied with your answer.

“Y/n we hope you’re feeling better, we’d hate for you to be ill” Eunwoo spoke as he gestured to the seat beside him. “I’m fine, really I think it’s because I forgot to eat” you explained as you now took a seat. It was comfortable sitting with them as the silence was soon broken by Mj and Moonbin entering, your eyes widened as Moonbin came in shirtless, you squeaked as Eunwoo placed his hand over your eyes. “Moonbin not in front of the guest.”

Moonbin smirked as Mj handed him a shirt to slip on, conveniently he decided not to button it, as he sat across from you, Eunwoo removed his hand when he thought was clear, as you looked over to Moonbin, who bit his bottom lip and raised an eyebrow at you, looking like a gaping fish again, you just wanted the sofa to eat you up so he couldn’t see your blush. 

“Y/n what was the real reason for you coming here today?” Jinjin spoke as you looked over to him sitting in a singular arm chair, you’d admit he looked like a king the way he held himself in the chair, not like the chill laid back guy from when you first met. 

“Well I always walk past on my way to work and I see the beautiful flowers and it smells amazing and well...curiosity got the better of me” you shrugged as the boys all agreed, 

“Well Y/n you're more than welcome to come back anytime” Mj said as he gave you another infectious smile. “Oh thank you guys it really means a lot, erm if you excuse me I must really get home” you said as you prepared to leave, Eunwoo got up to escort you out.

Walking back through the greenhouse it looked a lot different at night than it did in the day, now it was filled with fairy lights, the soft glow made it feel cosy, turning around to say goodbye to Eunwoo you noticed that all of them are there, you smiled “thank you guys for a lovely day and again the garden is beautiful.” 

“Our pleasure Y/n” Jinjin said giving you a small smile and wave, you opened the gate to go taking one last glance behind you, they all waved and smiled. 

And that you left the garden, Eunwoo looked up into the star filled sky, sighing,

 “Such a goodnight.”

[stubbedbakutoes]

It's a Match!

pairing: todoroki x reader

word count: 1k+

Tororoki's mom, Rei, and his sister, Fuyumi, act as matchmakers for him and Y/N

“Mom?”

Rei leaped at the sound of her son entering her home, practically ambushing him with the tightest squeeze imaginable as his chuckles reverberated from him. “Ooo I’m so glad you’re home.”

“So nice to be back. Brought the weather with me too.” He grinned devilishly as she released him, following her through to the kitchen.

“Apparently so! It’s been glorious here the past few days.” Rei gushed, busying herself with the salad she’d been preparing before Shoto had showed up.

Shoto nodded as he stole a slice of cucumber from her fresh cut pile. “So I’ve heard. Warm enough for a barbecue I think.” He grinned, tossing the slice into his mouth.

“Ah, we’re one step ahead of you.” Rei smirked, pointing a knowing finger at him. “We’re going next door in a minute.”

Shoto raised his brows at his Mom and leaned his hip against the counter. “Oh, finally got a new neighbour did you?”

“Didn’t I tell you?” She asked innocently as she arranged the salad into a dish.

He snorted and shook his head. “Nope. Are they nice?”

“Oh, she’s just lovely. About your age actually.” Rei chatted passively as she wrapped the bowl in clingfilm. “She’s a relative of the tenant who used to live there. It was all a bit strange but no one knew he existed until the will was read, left all his possessions to his great niece who he'd never even met, but refused to leave it to anyone else because he hated them all.”

“Sounds like our typical neighbor.” Shoto rolled his eyes and grinned. The old man next door had always been a strange one, a complete recluse until he wanted something, and then he'd be pounding on the door until he got her answer.

Rei nodded furiously with a giggle. “It is so him. I can kind of see a teeny tiny semblance of him in YN, but only in his bitter humour.”

Shoto wasn’t sure whether to be terrified or intrigued, but regardless of what he thought he needed to be, he was only intrigued. “I hope she doesn’t hoard as much.”

“Definitely not as much, but still a little bit. But it’s all good stuff.” She assured him with a wink. “Right, take the salad and I’ll take the rest.”

Shoto did as his Mom instructed and collected the salad bowl, before following his Mom from the house. The two wandered from their drive to yours, and he noticed the slight changes to the front garden that you’d made. The pond in the corner had been lined with sandy pebbles, and then a bed of tulips had been planted between the pond and the hedge. He could see little goldfish swimming around, something the old tenant would never keep because they created too much effort.

Rei let herself in to your home, something that alarmed Shoto a little but he trusted you must be comfortable enough with one another by this point for her to just do it. She seemed to know where she was going easily navigating her way through the large house.

Shoto picked up on a few things on his way through, how homely you’d made the place with blankets, cushions and throws decorating every sofa and chair. The walls were littered with various framed vinyls, and no, he hadn’t missed the mustard leather bound guitar case in the corner by the stereo.

The impressive bookcase didn’t go unnoticed behind your desk in the conservatory you kept as an office, nor did the collage of photos hung on the exposed brick wall of you and your family.

You were running Fuyumi through the plans you had for the back garden, facing outwards and pointing to the space you wanted to plant a magnolia tree when Rei announced their arrival.

“Guess who’s home!”

You and Fuyumi glanced over your shoulders to see Rei stepping out of the conservatory holding a pile of plated food, Shoto not much further behind her with a single bowl and a warm smile.

What a horrible surprise, you thought. Of course, Rei decided to keep the whole thing about his son visiting a secret. No wonder she’d gotten so excited when you mentioned having a barbecue the other day.

Fuyumi squeaked and ran to give her brother a hug, while you stood awkwardly in the middle of your garden, completely unsure of what to do with yourself. You watched Rei as she happily smiled away to herself, setting out the dishes she’d brought with her on the table.

Your sceptical glances were distracted by Fuyumi calling your name. “Come here!” She called to you, waving you over eagerly.

Oh good, even better. You wished you’d invited more people, since there was really no escaping him with just the four of you there.

Shoto’s lips pulled into a nervous sort of half smile as you slowly ambled over, and oddly enough there was a small hint of the old tenant in your eyes. Except you were much prettier, he thought to himself.

“Shoto, this is YN.” Fuyumi chirped with a delighted smile, because much like her mother, she could also see the two of you getting on well.

“Lovely to meet you.” He held his hand out, putting you off a bit further but you shook it nonetheless.

You cleared your throat and smiled back as he lightly gripped your hand, his eyes holding yours for a moment longer than you’d expected. “You too.”

“Here, I’ll take that.” Fuyumi snatched the bowl from Shoto’s hand and hurried over to Rei, no doubt to gossip about their apparent achievement.

You and Shoto watched after her with matching baffled expressions, before Shoto turned back to you with a slightly apprehensive demeanour. “Er, thank you for having me.”

You felt like you might be sending him an uncomfortable aura, and realised you needed to lighten up a bit. It’s happened now, he’s here. You had to learn to deal with it. “Oh, no biggie.” Offer him a drink, dickhead. “Can I get you a drink?”

Shoto’s smile grew, and he instantly eased up as he nodded. “Love one. What’ve you got?”

You pursed your lips in thought and pointed in the direction of the house. “I’ll show you, probably easier.”

He nodded once as you head back towards the conservatory, catching Rei’s attention on the way for her preference. Shoto followed you back through the house to the kitchen that looked out into the conservatory and opened the door to the pantry to show off your quite frankly ridiculous stock of alcohol and drinks.

You noticed when Shoto stared at your collection wide eyed for a second before looking to you and laughing. “I had a party the other day.” You defended yourself, and it was true. Even Rei and Fuyumi were there. “Turns out not very many of them drank.”

Shoto slowly nodded, but you could tell he still didn’t quite believe you. “What was the party for?”

“Friend’s birthday. Me and Fuyumi drank the most.” You Mombled awkwardly, chewing on your lip as he took a step closer to inspect the options.

“Now that doesn’t surprise me.” Shoto chuckled. “Can I have a beer?”

“Absolutely not. Choose something else.” You spoke without thinking, and you were suddenly mortified at how quick you were. You’ve probably scared him and now he’s going to run off.

Shoto looked back at you with a bemused smirk. “Old man? Is that you?”

Or not. You snorted a laugh and cringed a little. “I’ve no idea, never met him. Yes you can have a beer.”

His grin spread brilliantly, teeth showing a little as he grabbed a bottle from the very back before standing straight and waiting for your direction.

“Um, just FYI, I’m a terrible host so please don’t ask me for another… you’re more than welcome to just help yourself.” You pointed out, because you knew he was actually probably too polite to pester you for one, and he’d just be sat without a drink all afternoon.

“I’ll bear that in mind.” He giggled, a beautifully boyish sound as he followed you back through the house.

[reversecreek]

struts onto the dash carrying this deliriously wriggling little elf in my arms like a swaddled bebe......... they’re genuinely my oldest muse of all time i think i created them when i was like. 13 possibly. n i haven’t written them in Years but. i’m literally so excited to jst vibrating w muse. smiles at u all demurely..... they have risen. u can find their pinterest here n their playlist here.

* alana champion, nonbinary + they/them | you know nyla palmer, right? they’re twenty-two, and they’ve lived in irving for, like, eight months? well, their spotify wrapped says they listened to 6669 (i don’t know if you know) by neon indian like, a million times this year, which makes sense ‘cause they’ve got that whole a two headed doll of a prairie girl with stitched on rabbit ears and butterfly wings, befriending shadow puppets & finding god with your eyes open underwater in a public pool you broke into thing going on. i just checked and their birthday is march 2nd, so they’re a pisces, which is unsurprising, all things considered. ( nai, 24, gmt she/her  )

HISTORY:

was born in georgiaaaa georgiaaaa (phoebe bridgers voice holds my bang...) to a vry honest hard working man named george (omgggg he’s called GEORGE and he’s from GEORGIA? ahaaaaa fuckk ur jestinggg) nd a woman who did her best named pamela..... george worked on a construction site n pamela was a pharmacist..... their house was this small rickety white thing with a wrap around porch n a very rabid overgrown garden tht kind of looked like the earth ws trying to reclaim it bc nobody ever hd the time or motivation to mow the lawn.... there ws literally a piece of fold out furniture just entirely submerged by weeds n foliage

nyla ws always closest w their dad george..... he hd this way of looking at the world tht was seeing the best in all of it.... he took them on long walks where he talked abt how u have to respect the trees bc they’re breathing fr us n we’re breathing fr them..... he hd a strange whimsical sense of humour n a gnome alter ego called grundlebolt who always tickled them..... in a way this closeness created a distance between nyla n their mother but not so much that it ws rly a problem. just enough tht nyla sometimes waited until their mother ws out of eye n ear shot to tell their dad they loved him bc they didn’t wna make her sad >_>

(mental health, death & grief tw) pamela always struggled w her mental health but george ws great n understanding n knew how to help her thru this... nyla didn’t get it too greatly at a very young age bt they knew their mum got “the sads” sometimes (how their dad wld explain tht she needed to lay down in the quiet for a while or why she’d stood at the stove n let the dinner burn until the smoke detector went off without doing anything abt it). when nyla was 14 they got home one day to a police car in the driveway n came prancing in exuberantly as they always did. immediately hugged the legs of an officer bc this is hw they wld greet everyone they ever met. they only realised something was wrong when they let go n saw their mum sat at the table crying. essentially there ws an accident at the construction site george worked at n :/ yeah. 

(jst mental health & grief tw now) this rly had an intense ripple effect on everyone tbh. pamela’s mental health deteriorated quite a lot without george there as her rock n nyla sort of had to step in as best they cld but it was....... hard. some days she ws better bt some days nyla had to sit her in the bath n stroke a wet sponge over her back bc they didn’t know how else to calm her down. nyla always had a very overactive imagination which george encouraged bt it ws like. losing him rly opened a window in nyla’s head n all rationality went floating out of it. their dreams seemed more real than being awake. fantasy wasn’t jst the way they coped bt it was the way they thought n the way they saw. everything on earth was alive. the trees n the clouds n the wall with a brick missing at the bottom of her road n especially their dad. their dad was alive in everything in nyla’s head. the sun shining extra bright in the morning was george. ponds were a veil they could dunk her head under and find george waiting on the other side. reality rly just pulled the plug n said bye tbh n they were ok w that <3

(abuse implied tw) their mum remarried too fast to a man named stephen n it was jst not a good arrangement. he was Not a nice man. i won’t go into this but home wasn’t a nice place for nyla any more n after a couple of yrs stephen wound up asking them to leave n their mum said nothing to contradict tht. there’s more to this bt long story short nyla left <3

(drugs tw) they couch surfed fr a while before settling living w their best friend. they got up to like... all sorts of trouble n grew up far too fast. nyla’s lack of sense n realism hd a habit of getting them into some sticky situations n these few yrs were a rollercoaster where they got by on the skin of their teeth. when they think of high skl they think of gravel and skinned knees and sucking sherbet dunkers to ignore the taste of pennies in ur mouth and getting lost in the woods a lot bc they’d take FAR too many drugs n be lead astray having conversations with kind trees whose branches held their hands

(drug mention) got by on odd jobs like making candles n selling them at market stalls. leaf blowing at cemeteries. face painting fr children’s parties (where they were blatantly high). random stuff. all over the place. in this time them n their best friend also hd a sugar daddy named tony who always wore very impressive colour block suits n mink stoles n jewelled fedoras n hd a swanky apartment w marble floors. rly just. surreal. lots of strange stories frm this time.

things kind of blew up in their friendship group n they fell out w their best friend raya bc she slept w this guy aj who nyla hd been madly in love w for yrs.... he was a Stinker n honestly so ws their best friend so good riddance i say bt obviously it felt like having their entire world flipped upside dwn fr nyla.... they split after this came out bc they just did Not want to b around these ppl any more n they decided to leave w this guy frm a band they barely knew tht much save fr a one night stand to tour w them..... this ws another whirlwind. jst chock full of them. it ws similar to being on a teacup ride at a carnival n spinning round n round n only knowing u were surrounded by lots of lights. tht’s how they’d best describe their time on tour.

SO in terms of them coming to irving 8 months ago they came w the band.... they honestly did pretty well on tour n wound up renting a big beach house on dorado as a kind of “retreat” sort of place fr them to shack up in while they worked on writing and recording their first big studio album (they gt signed w a label so it’s all vry exciting stuff). nyla among like 3 others were allowed to stay w them too bc they hd a lot of fun on tour. literally jst. taken on as professional groupies essentially. nyla loved it bc they’d never seen the ocean n when they first got there they jst threw off all their clothes n ran straight into the water. it was 3pm on a tuesday afternoon. they got arrested fr public indecency n didn’t get why bc they were like but i just wanted to hug the ocean u silly little oinker? i picture the beach house as like. the loudest one on dorado.... comes alive like a jungle at night..... they r probably bad neighbours. anyway. onto personality puts hand on hip.

PERSONALITY:

sets out patio furniture on someone else’s lawn n jst takes a seat n leans back like ahhhhh vat a nice day to be alive ya! (swedish accent suddenly bc they think it’s fun). they come out n start yelling n they’re jst so confused they’re like hey wat’s the big idea hey wat’s go on here why u angies why this happen?

likes drawing imaginary veins over their arms in all different colour blue pens in a sudden fit of hyperfixation n then forgets all abt it n goes out like tht n scares several townsfolk bt they’re oblivious they’re jst in her own world loving life already onto the next fixation. has many many different fads like this. one day will jst start snipping up a bunch of magazines bc they’re like EYES ARE COOL N THEY SEE EVERYTHING!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! :P n they’ll stick a bunch of them over their wall n then forget they was doing that n leap onto the next. quite a pattern. bt they love the vein thing a lot it makes them feel like a walking planetarium like they have their own constellations

sometimes jst doesn’t make sense. they’re honestly kind of strange. pops up in places like they suddenly materialised there n it’s like how did u get there where have u been when were u last seen are u ok. has the energy of an ancient deity frm deep in a mountain cave n an ambiguous forest sprite all at once..... talks shit honestly. abt anything n everything. sometimes outrageous. sometimes plain incoherent. like what are u talking about? i dnt kno. even i dnt kno sometimes.

luvs stick n pokes will let anyone tattoo whatever they want on them for the price of a gummy bear kindly placed onto their tongue n swallowed whole

has this obsession w being underwater w their eyes open luvs it. calls it their tadpole time. runs baths just to lie there blinking looking around n drifting her arms. best friends w the bottom of any local swimming pool n hs probably given it a quick kiss so it knows they’re bff’s n then got sick bc there’s sm germs in a public pool. says the kgb probably poisoned their oatmeal n r finally here to deliver on their promise n THAT’S why they got sick unrelated to the pool incident. what promise? noone knows.

unclear if they believe what they say or if they jst has a very expanded sense of humour where they nvr let on if they’re joking.... lines r blurred a lot..... 

loves excitedly shouting things. sometimes just screams at the sky bc they say it’s good to let the creatures in ur belly fly out every once in a while otherwise their wings get sore.

(drugs tw) still does an excessive amt of hallucinogens n it kind of shows. very bad fr their brain bt we’re going to ignore it.

dresses fun n strange n eccentric n careless. loves to experiment. does nt care abt what’s considered to be societally appropriate. living in their own world.

sleeps around a lot... jst doesn’t rly see sex as a big deal.... very free w themselves in that way..... sometimes greets their friends w a kiss on the lips they’re like awww :) kisses <3 when they run into them in the middle of the cereal aisle n then pulls away n suddenly breaks into a box tht has a free toy in it bc it’s a banana with googly eyes n that’s the best thing they’ve ever heard in their LIFE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! n isn’t he so HANDSOME????? enchante indeed my good sir ;)... gives the toy a kiss too.

WANTED CONNECTIONS:

other groupies of the band: self explanatory a little.... i dnt have a name for the band yet bt all can b worked out..... i picture them as kind of. not that nice but like. there for a good time........ rock genre.... bit chaotic...... to say the least........ they dnt have to have come there w the band like nyla n the others they cld have been adopted in their time there.... whoever wld b wild n down fr a good time <3

chaotic trash goblin friends: idk what this title rly means it just came to me in a vision....... jst ppl tht r rly kind of off the rails n don’t care abt anything...... they r who nyla tends to mesh very well w......... they rly r living in their own world n by their own rules n they like ppl who do this too <3 inevitably they get up to no good n party far too much...... cld be angst to this if they enable each other’s bad habits...... world’s our oyster. opens my office door. let’s talk abt it.

nyla set up camp on their front lawn: maybe jst w a fold out chair. maybe w a literal pop up tent w someone else too. genuinely so bizarre of them bt that’s what we’re dealing with. they poke their head into the tent n nyla’s lying down crunching on a cracker crumbs over their tits n they just hold it out to them nt even fully consumed n are like hey polly want a cracker? :)

they responded to her craigslist ad: they posted one saying they cld cleanse their house of demonic energy bc they’re an all seeing eye in touch w the spirits. this is a lie. they came n waved sage around n did a little dance as they did it w bird sounds playing on a special cd they brought fr the occasion (had weird indistinct doodles over the case it ws brought in) n then ws like OOH! scary.... n jumped at something in the hall. they go in thinking maybe they’ve seen a ghost bt they just were startled by their own reflection in a mirror n is like. scary mirror placement...... might wna reconsider that........ they charge them merely 10 dollars fr their time n is like this was so fun we shd do it again some time :) also i think u have mould on ur bathroom tile! vanishes. they dnt recall them ever going to the bathroom.

came knocking asking for items for a garage sale: yes. u heard that right. they’re asking for ur muses things to set up their own garage sale. selling items that do not belong to them. they think this is a genius business strategy n don’t understand why ppl think this is so strange or why they cant just ask ppl to donate them things to sell bc hey they’re an entrepreneur? they even had a pencil behind their ear when they knocked on the door so why aren’t ppl taking their business seriously? probably got distracted several times trying to explain their pitch n chattered abt random other things instead.

honestly anything... fwbs... flings... good influence... someone who cnt stand the fact they’re barely coherent.... someone they stopped on the street one day n asked for their opinion on water beds.... we cn do literally anything. fling ur chara my way n we can talk.

[midnightartemis]

Chapter One

The call came suddenly like it always did. A new home. A new foster parent. A new school. At least this time I would be starting right at the beginning of the year. That was easier. I could work with that. I only hoped that this one would last.

I had my small bag of things packed within five minutes and I sat waiting anxiously on the edge of my government-issued co-housing bed. I wondered what shitty luck the universe had decided to drop on me this time.

It wasn’t that I was a bad kid. I tried to keep my head low, my grades high… it’s just that I usually got the short stick when it came to foster parents. The bad eggs. The abusers who somehow slipped through the cracks of the shitshow that is the United States child protective services.

It had become some sort of sick game for me. I move into a new home and it’s okay for a few days, weeks even. Then the abuse would start and I would start gathering evidence. When I had enough I’d wait until a particularly bad day to call the cops, drop the evidence, and get their licenses revoked.

I was a survivor. I could take the punches, the days without food, the yelling, and everything in between, but others couldn’t.

I check my watch and grab my bag. Time to go. My caseworker and house mom are waiting for me at the bottom of the stairs. My caseworker is a tall, skinny woman with white-blond hair and a kind face. She tried her best, she really did. It wasn’t her fault I always found the worst homes. My house mom, known affectionately as Aunt Z, was much the opposite, short, large, and with a permanent scowl on her face. I also couldn’t blame her for that. She had to deal with all the girls who came through. I had only known her for two months, but that was long enough to know that she had a big heart. My heart hurts a little at the thought of leaving her, but I had very little control over where they sent me. Miss Holdo, my caseworker, breaks into a huge grin at the sight of me. “Miss Niima! All ready to go?”

I nod. It wasn’t like I had much of a choice.

“Girls,” Aunt Z barks. “Get in here and say goodbye to Rey.”

I bite my lip. I didn’t want a big send-off. I hardly knew most of the girl’s names. I only ever talked to most of them at group therapy sessions. It was better to not get attached. One by one, they trailed in. There were six of us in total. Most of them mumbled a goodbye and slunk back out of the room, but Ara raced up to hug me with tears in her eyes. She was the youngest of the group and had grown attached to me over the course of the summer. I hugged her back.

“It’s okay. I’ll make sure to text you and visit if I can.” She sniffled back her tears and I ruffled her red hair.

“Alright, time's a-wastin. On with you.” Aunt Z grumbled but affectionately patted my shoulder. It was her version of a hug.

Miss Holdo smiled and I followed her out the door, chatting as we walked to the car. “I think I found a good one, Rey.” Her eyes were a little guilty. “We’ve had really good success with her in the past. She only takes cases like yours and as soon as she saw your profile, she called me to ask about you.”

Great. I tried to hold back that flicker of hope in my subconscious. I had gotten my hopes up before and, yet, here I was again. I got in the passenger seat of Miss Holdo’s car and immediately took a piece of gum from the container on her dashboard. She started the car and I buckled up. She handed me the AUX cord as she always did.

I plugged the cord into my beat-up iPhone and started scrolling through my songs. Hozier sounded good. “Where are we headed?”

“Not far, just an hour. Republic.”

Republic. I had never been. New school. New people. New everything, then. Okay. “And this foster mom?”

“Unmarried. A bit older, in her fifties. She seemed very nice and very interested in you. She runs a tavern on the northeast side of town by the river.”

I frown. “Is she going to make me work there?”

“No. She told me that she likes to keep her work separate from her home life, especially when there is alcohol involved. She let me check her cupboards. There’s not a drop of alcohol in that house, Rey.”

I breathe a sigh of relief. “Okay.”

“I did a super thorough inspection. Even called her previous cases. They all stayed with her until they came of age. I really think this could be a good fit for you, Rey.”

In other words- don’t fuck it up. All I wanted was to put my head down and get through junior year in peace. “If you say so.”

We drive in silence. I look out the window watching the town of Jakku, Vermont slide away into the past. Holdo is bobbling along to the music and I close my eyes, soaking it in.

It’s late afternoon when Republic appears in front of us. Worn down houses and trailer parks line the streets of the southside. There are sketchy gas stations and abandoned storefronts. People sit on their porches and stand on corners, their eyes watching Holdo’s sleek black car as we drive past. I’m waiting for her to put her blinker on and turn off the main road towards one of the broken-down houses or parks, but she keeps going. The cracked sidewalks get a little nicer, the storefronts, less abandoned. We pass through two stoplights and then we’re crossing over a river and a trainyard. This side of the river, the houses are nicer, many of them newly renovated. We pass through a downtown shopping area filled with little boutiques, an ice cream shop, an old fashioned movie theater, a coffee shop. It’s quaint, perfect. “I think you missed your turn.”

Miss Holdo laughs. “Nope.”

Shit. Well, okay. I’d dealt with rich fosters before. It didn’t end well for them. Let’s just say that the dad was a little too hands-on. The anxiety is back in my chest. I worry my lip between my teeth. The downtown area slowly morphs into old historic houses and residential housing.

“I want to show you your new school first.” She seems much too excited. We keep driving until the historic houses have turned into rows of newer developments and gated communities. She takes a turn and we pull into the parking lot of a huge tan building. New Republic High School is marked on the side in large silver block letters. The front is filled with huge windows and the inside looks incredibly new and clean with white walls and wide stairs and solid oak doors leading to classrooms and offices.

I raise my eyebrows and Miss Holdo chuckles at my shocked look. “I know. It’s huge. Some of the best teachers in the state work here. They were very impressed with your transcripts, especially with everything you’ve been through. They still want you to take some placement tests, but they’re excited to have you.”

“Oh, okay.” I think I’m in shock, just a little bit. It all seemed too good to be true. Everything was completely different from the shitty schools in Jakku.

“Oh, shoot. We better go, I don’t want you to be late to meet her.” Holdo sped us out of the parking lot and back towards town. We pass by the new developments and into the historic district. We turn down a tree-lined road filled with huge Victorian, Colonial, and 1920s style houses. Everything seems picturesque, each lawn trimmed and cared for, the vines perfectly placed. Holdo slows and we pull up in front of a tiny 1920s bungalow. I breathe a little sigh of relief that it’s not one of the giant houses that flank either side. There’s a huge, old oak tree out front, a little brick path leads to the steps of the porch. There’s a light on. A white swinging bench is hung from the porch roof. The siding is painted almost a teal, seafoam green-blue with white trim. Flowers line the house and there’s a seashell wind chime hanging from the porch. My nerves make my stomach twist.

Holdo turns off the car and we get out. She grabs her bag of paperwork and we start up the path. I’m holding my breath as we climb the stairs of the porch and Miss Holdo knocks on the door.

“Oh! One second, one second! I’m here.” The door swings open and I look down at the smallest woman I think I’ve ever seen. She can’t be more than four-six, four-seven. I tower over her at five-eight. Her eyes are huge behind her round, black, thick-framed glasses. Her grey hair is coiffed perfectly and she’s dressed like she’s been working in the garden all day. I smile. She opens her screen door and beckons us in. “Come in, please. I hope you’re hungry. I made burgers on the grill. It’s such a nice day out and I couldn’t resist. Oh, where are my manners? You must be Rey. I’m Maz. Maz Kanata. I would prefer Maz over Mrs. Kanata, but,” she clicks her tongue. “I’ll also take ma.”

I’m completely overwhelmed. I glance at Miss Holdo and she shrugs. The door opens straight into the living room which is filled with an eclectic assortment of chairs and a couch. Art hangs on almost every surface and there’s a small TV over the fireplace. It’s warm and inviting if a bit chaotic. A set of stairs leads up to a second floor. We follow Maz through the living room and into a large kitchen. Everything seems like it was pulled out of a vintage magazine and cobbled together with love and color. There’s theory to the chaos. An archway leads to a dining room with a huge colorful table and none of the chairs match. A door in the kitchen leads to another porch outside. This one isn’t covered, but it overlooks the backyard. I can’t help but gasp at it. Stone paths circle raised garden beds. There are a hoop house and a pond and a bench beside a huge fir tree surrounded by flowerbeds. It’s beautiful. What the hell is happening?

There’s a table on the porch beside a grill and it’s been set for three. Maz hurries over. She’s awfully fast for an old woman. “Sit, sit. Please. I wasn’t sure if either of you were vegetarians, so I made some bean burgers that can make even a carnivore cry.”

I smile and take a seat. Shock. Yep. Definitely in shock. What’s the catch? Maz builds our burgers and piles our plates high with chips and fresh fruits and vegetables. She pours us a glass of lemonade each and finally, takes a seat. I hesitate, looking between Holdo and Maz, unsure of the protocol. Everyone was different. Maz's huge eyes glance at my plate. “Well, eat up, hun. You’re as skinny as a stick.”

I eagerly dig in and moan. It’s so good. “This is the best burger I’ve ever had.”

“Good. I’ll teach you how to make them. Now, business is best discussed over a good meal, let’s get on with all the legal mumbo-jumbo.” Maz winks at me and I giggle to myself. She was definitely different, like no foster I’d met before.

“Right.” Miss Holdo wipes her fingers on a napkin and pulls out my case file. It was far too thick and I glance at Maz, but she didn't seem fazed. Right. She would have seen it. “Miss Niima is to remain in your care for the foreseeable future. She will be taking classes at New Republic High, as we discussed. We will have weekly check-ins in person for the first two months. And if all parties are comfortable after those two months, we will move to bi-monthly check-ins until Miss Niima turns of age on October 13th, 2021, one year and two months from now. Miss Niima will also continue to go to group therapy sessions once a week with the local therapist. I believe you’ve already contacted him and gotten an introduction session set up?”

“Oh, yes.” Maz pulls a card out of her pocket. “Here’s the number and the date and time of the appointment.” She looks at me. “Wednesday afternoon, once you get out of school. But, we can schedule around any after school activities you want to take on.”

“After school activities?” My jaw drops. I’d never been given the opportunity.

“Oh yes, they have a billion different little groups and teams there. I’m sure you’ll find something.”

“Okay.” Holdo grins. “All I need for you to do is sign and Rey is in your care.”

I sign and then Maz signs. It didn’t take a lot for me to sign my life away. It was signed away a long time ago. This wouldn’t last, it never did.

“Now.” Maz folds her hands together. “I like to set down my expectations for you in front of your caseworker so that we can all be on the same page. If that’s okay?”

Again, not like I have much of a choice. I nod, curious to know. “Yeah. Yes.”

“School comes first. You can get a job if you want to, but you have to keep up your grades. Judging by your past transcripts though, that won’t be much of a problem, but I know that junior year comes with a lot of stress. I will make sure that you are safe, fed, and clothed. It’s up to you how you want to take my hospitality. I’ll hold you responsible for your actions, and breaking rules will have consequences. All the rules are posted on the fridge and you are welcome to discuss them with me at any time if you would like to amend them or add more. Okay?”

I nod.

“School night curfew is 10 pm. For every time you’re more than five minutes late, that curfew will be moved up by fifteen minutes. Weekends, we will start at 11 pm and go from there. There’s also a list of chores you’ll have to complete. They’re designed to help you become a self-sufficient adult. So, you’ll do your own laundry and clean your own room and dishes. You’ll also help me cook and work in the garden on the weekends. But,” Maz’s large eyes go very serious, and I still myself for the catch. “Above all, I want you to build relationships and trust. Trust goes both ways, Rey. You have mine, right now. From the start. If and when you have problems, I want you to be able to come to me. I will never call anyone on you as long as there’s no immediate harm to anyone. I’m on your side. And, I’m here for the long term. That means we work through our problems, together, okay?”

That was not the catch I was expecting. My heart is racing and I feel like I’m about to cry. It’s too good to be true. I guess I would believe her when I see it. “I- yeah… Okay.”

Maz smiles. “Good. School starts in the morning. I’ll be starting you off on a twenty-five dollar allowance. It should be enough for snacks at school and coffee with friends. If there are any other supplies you want, talk to me and I’ll see if I can get them for you. How’s that sound?”

“Okay. Twenty-five a month is more than I usually get, so-”

Maz chuckles. “No, sweetie. Twenty-five a week.”

My eyes go wide. “Oh.”

“I’ll be taking you to school and picking you up, but if you want to start learning to drive, I can make that happen. This is going to take a lot of communication, Rey. Probably a lot more than you’re comfortable with. But you can ask me any questions you want, okay?”

I nod, feeling overwhelmed.

“How are you feeling, Rey?” Miss Holdo looks over at me, a gleam in her eye.

“Ah… A little overwhelmed. I guess.”

“That’s perfectly normal. Should I let you get settled in?”

“Yeah.” I glance at Maz and she’s happily biting into her burger. She’s strange, but… I think I like her.

“You have my number, so don’t be afraid to call. I’ll see you Saturday morning at ten, okay?” Miss Holdo stands to leave and grabs her paperwork. “Thank you for the dinner, Maz.”

“Any time, hun. You should call more.” Maz raises her eyebrows.

“Sorry, Maz. I will. I promise.” Miss Holdo gives Maz a small hug and I’m left bewildered.

Maz sees my face and chuckles. “Long before she was your social worker, Rey, Amilyn was causing quite a bit of trouble for me.”

I suddenly understand Holdo’s certainty that I would be a good fit here. “You were in the system?”

Holdo nods. “Almost didn’t get out of it, if it wasn’t for Maz. She’s a good one, Rey. I promise. Just keep that nose out of trouble.”

“I don’t go looking for it,” I grumble. Holdo smiles and bids her goodbye. Maz gives a big old sigh and starts gathering plates. I automatically grab my plates and follow her into the kitchen.

“Just put the scraps in the compost bin and set your things on the counter. I’ll take care of it tonight. The rules are on the fridge if you want to read them over and sign them. We can discuss any of them that you want to.” Maz steps up on to a stool so that she can reach into the sink and starts running water for dishes.

I shyly make my way over to the fridge and read the list. It’s what she basically already told me plus a few extra notes about cleanliness and food. Anything not marked in the fridge is fair game. Shower regularly. Add necessities to the shopping list before Friday. All of it was already more room than I had ever been given in most households, that is beside the ones that didn’t give a shit. The last bullet just says- Respect is built. Love is given freely. Responsibility is learned. Trust goes both ways. Beside the rule list is a whiteboard daily chore chart. Weeding the garden is marked for Saturday and Sunday (subject to weather). Clean dishes and homework are marked every day. Sweep is marked every other day. Laundry and clean room are unmarked. The date of school starting and my therapy appointment is marked in red on a calendar. Despite the eclectic feel of her house, Maz seems incredibly organized. I pick up one of the markers stuck to the fridge and sign the rule list. I date it.

“All good?” Maz is waiting for me at the entrance to the living room. I nod and she gestures for me to follow her. I climb the stairs behind her and we end in a hallway. There’s a door in front of us, and another to my left and right. Maz gestures to the door in front of her. “My room. You need anything at any time and I’m in there you can knock .” She points to the door on my right. “That’s the office. There’s a computer in there that you can use to research, watch your Youtube videos. Though I think they give out laptops at that school now. I don’t know, I’m not the most technologically up today as the kids these days. I apologize in advance. There’s no cable and I can’t figure out the Apple TV doo-dangle-thing.” She points to a half-open door on the right side of the hall. “That’s your bathroom. I never go in there so, you’re responsible for telling me when shit breaks. I went out and got you some supplies, but if there’s anything else you need, let me know. Now…” Maz opens the final door on my left and flips on a light. She leads me into a simple room, painted cream and blue stripes. There’s a twin bed covered in a white comforter pressed against the wall, a wooden desk under the window, a dresser against the wall with a record player and a box of records, and an open door to a walk-in closet that looks like it’s filled with clothes. I can’t help but stop and stare.

“This is mine?” I set my one bag down at my feet.

“All yours, hun. You can arrange it and paint it how you want. Most of this stuff is leftover from previous girls. You can have whatever you want and anything else, I can put in storage. I think Jyn left a lot of her old clothes and you’re about her size.” Maz looked over the room. “Tomorrow, if you want, we can go shopping for any clothes you might need. Underwear. Bras. Whatever. Oh, and this is for you, for your first day.”

Maz picked a plain blue backpack up off the bed and handed it to me. I took it hesitantly and unzipped it. It was filled with notebooks and pens and pencils and even a calculator. Tears sting at my eyes. It’s too good. It’s too good to be true.

“Oh, hun. Can I give you a hug?”

I nod and her surprisingly strong arms wrap around me. I break and tears fall and I’m sobbing now. I didn’t deserve this. I didn’t deserve any of this.

[onemilliongoldstars]

a crown seldom enjoyed - chapter 29

To maintain the fragile peace between north and south, Clarke of House Tyrell is sent to live in Winterfell as an act of faith between the two kingdoms. There, she is put under the protection of the first queen in the north, Queen Lexa of House Stark, Daughter of Wolves. A woman draped in steel and silver, wolves at her heels and rumoured to be a manifestation of the fury of the old gods; Clarke refuses to be awed be her quiet violence and cold smile. Instead of fostering unity, the meeting of the wolf and the rose lights a spark that spreads through the rest of Westeros, threatening to burn it to the ground.

29/33

clexa game of thrones au

read on ao3

---

Book Three- Chapter 8

Early summer in Kings Landing truly is beautiful. Before the days become so hot and muggy that you are forced to rest when the sun is at its highest, the city is engulfed in long, warm, dry days that seem to last forever and ever. When she thinks of her childhood in Kings Landing this is what she remembers: periwinkle blue skies, filled with hazy clouds, the sweet smell of flowers and fruit in the air, and days that never ended. Today is one of those days, and as she walks through the gardens of the Red Keep in her airy, flowing gown, she can almost forget the small circlet upon her head. Beside her, Lord Marcus matches her gait easily, and at her back are Octavia and Roan, their white Queensguard capes flowing. Despite the smiles and bows that people offer as she passes, she is not so naïve as to think that her fight for the throne is over.

“The nobles are beginning to wonder about Lord Pike’s whereabouts.” Lord Marcus’s voice is cast low to avoid them being overheard, and Clarke attempts to keep her expression as neutral as possible. “You will have to announce his arrest soon or appear a tyrant.”

“I will,” She pauses, smiles at a pair of passing nobles. “Everything is falling into place.”

“I don’t need to tell you that there will be outcry and opposition.”

“You don’t,” She agrees, calmly. “It is not those foolish enough to disagree with me publicly who I fear, it is those who whisper in private.” Her brows furrow and she sighs softly. “There will be many whispers and I must master them.”

“I will endeavour to find someone who can help with that.” Lord Marcus informs her, and when her eyes cut to him he offers a small smile and says. “That is what it means to be Hand of the Queen isn’t it?”

“Indeed it is,” She smiles at him and for a moment it is as if nothing has changed between them. “I am glad to have you, Lord Marcus.”

“I am glad to be of service, your majesty,” His eyes soften and he continues. “Your mother will be here soon.”

A sigh escapes her before she can help herself and she rolls her eyes when Marcus smiles. “I am aware.”

“She will be glad to see you,” Lord Marcus presses and she can only incline her head in agreement as they step into the dark rose tunnel, where the scent is so heady it makes her head swirl. She can’t help but think of her moments with Finn here, where she saw more the boy he was than the weak king he became and her heart thuds with pain. In the darkness they are more hidden and Marcus feels able to say. “You should be kind to her.” 

“I know,” Clarke hesitates, brushing her fingers across the petal of a drooping rose, heavy under its own weight. “I just- it will be strange to see her.”

“She is still your mother.”

“I’m not the daughter she left behind,” Clarke protests, “She always wanted to protect me and in the end… that isn’t what I needed.”

“You may think you are more your father than your mother, but I see much of her in you too.” Marcus gives her a slight smile and he seems suddenly older than he has before.

“Sometimes I forget that you knew her long before even my father.” Clarke considers him, “When she was just a girl.”

Marcus arches an eyebrow in her direction. “Your mother was never ‘just a girl’, she was utterly wild in her youth. I fear I was never able to keep pace with her games as she would have liked.”

 “I- I never knew that,” She admits. “It always seemed that she wanted me to be the perfect lady.”

“By forcing you to learn your histories and healing?” Marcus shakes his head, “She was preparing you, even if you didn’t know it. When she met your father she changed, he brought something out in her that I’m sure not even she knew existed. She was so very in love with him.” When his eyes flicker to her they are filled with pain and sympathy and she feels her heart ache. “His death almost shattered her.”

She considers his words in silence, letting the heady scent of the roses surround her. It reminds her of home, of Highgarden, and watching her parents smile at one another over their meals, as if they had a secret they wouldn’t tell.

“I wanted her here,” She murmurs, at last, unable to meet Marcus’s eyes. “I needed her.”

 Marcus nods slowly, and his voice is filled with understanding when he answers. “One of the sad facts of becoming older is realising that the people we thought invincible are just as human as we are.” He places a hand on her shoulder, something she is sure he would not dare to do unless they were alone. “Forgive her, if you can.”

When they step out into the gardens again, Clarke tells herself that it is the sunlight making her blink away tears, rather than Lord Arryn’s words.

They round a corner and Clarke feels her lips twitching into a smile at the sight of an ever familiar figure approaching. Lexa is flanked by Anya and Lincoln, Faith and Honour at her sides, and her usual dark jerkin is replaced today by a light linen shirt and waistcoat in the brightness of the day. Princess Arianna is walking alongside her, speaking fervently about something, but the moment their eyes catch Lexa cannot seem to tear herself away. Arianna cuts herself off when she sees that she doesn’t have the queen’s full attention, and follows her gaze with a slight smirk.

“Your majesty,” Clarke greets her when they meet on their path.

“Your majesty,” Lexa returns, and there is a softness to her gaze that bellies her polite tone. “Lord Arryn,” She adds, and Clarke flushes a little, her eyes darting to Princess Arianna.

“Princess.”

 “Your majesty,” The princess’s eyes are filled with mirth and Clarke hurries to speak before she can say anything too obvious.

 “Are you enjoying the gardens?”

“They’re lovely,” Lexa answers her, almost too quickly.

“Have you seen the reflecting pool?” Clarke’s eyes can’t seem to leave her face, watching the play of sunlight across her smile. “It’s quite wonderful on a warm day.”

“We haven’t,” Lexa’s smile only grows when Clarke says. 

“I would be happy to show you.” 

“Unfortunately I have seen the reflecting pool many times,” Princess Arianna puts in, her lips twitching, “I should find my sisters, your majesties.”

“I will accompany you,” Lord Marcus bows his head to them both, and Clarke watches as the pair fall into step together and walk away.

When she meets Lexa’s gaze, the woman gives her a rueful smile and says, “We were only recently with her sisters.”

Clarke’s brows twitch and she bites back a grin as they begin to walk together down the sloping path towards the reflecting gardens. “The Princess has always known more than she ought.”

“It makes her a useful ally,” Lexa adds, and Clarke nods her agreement. “How are you finding your hand of the queen?” 

“Lord Marcus is a good man, sensible. He advises that I have Pike’s trial soon.”  Lexa hums her agreement as they make their way through the orange groves.

“It’s only a matter of time before people find out, better that they hear it from you first.”

 “You’re right,” Her fingers slip up to touch at the chain around her neck, where the key to Pike’s cell is settled in her bosom. “I just don’t want to leave anything to chance, he has to die for all that he’s done.”

“The Gods are just, Clarke,” There is something so certain to her words that Clarke’s eyes flicker over to her again. “He will pay for his crimes.” There is not a flicker of insincerity to her, and Clarke shakes her head, a little awed.

“I wish that I could still trust in the judgement of the gods,” She says, wearily, as they step through an old archway and into the deserted courtyard that holds the reflecting pool. “They do not seem just or good to me anymore.”

“I know that they are,” Lexa counters, very quietly and reaches out to brush a touch over Clarke’s elbow, drawing their eyes back together. “They brought us back together when all seemed lost.”

 Her breath catches in her throat and she can’t help but think that here, in this small, sunlit grove, Lexa looks more beautiful than any woman ever has before. Lexa’s cheeks are flushed with her words, but she doesn’t avert her gaze, and eventually it is Clarke that has to pull her eyes away, because she knows that if she doesn’t their lips will meet again. They fall into step together, the guards stationing themselves by the archway, and Clarke leads Lexa towards the shallow pool at the centre of the courtyard, lined with low brick and filled with water so clear that when Clarke leans over it she can see her reflection between the still lily pads. 

“It’s lovely here,” Lexa breaks the silence, her eyes wandering across the courtyard to take in the oak trees with branches that spread wide and leave a dappling of sunlight on the sandy cobblestone floor below their feet. “Very peaceful.”

“Not many people come here,” Clarke admits, walking slowly around the edge of the pool. “Wells and I came a lot when I was a girl, it was a good place to find some peace.”

“I can imagine,” Lexa’s smile is soft and fond, “You spent a lot of time in the capital growing up?”

Clarke nods, reaching down to touch at a lily pad and bump it gently into its counterparts, watching as the motion sends a shiver through the still pond. “My father was here often and he brought me with him. I spent a lot of time with Wells.”

“You must be glad to have him back,” Lexa’s eyes do not leave hers, even as she perches on the small wall beside the pool, watching from across it as Clarke nods, her breath catching in her throat. 

“I am,” She cannot bear to keep their eyes together as they speak. “I- It is a little strange, after everything that has happened.”

“I can imagine so,” When she chances a glance at her, Clarke finds Lexa’s expression softly sympathetic. 

“He was my best friend,” With a soft sigh, Clarke rounds the other side of the pond and takes a seat at Lexa’s side. Above them jasmine grows around the trunk of the gnarled old oak and wraps itself into the tree’s branches, twisting and clutching like fingers and drooping down around them when it becomes too heavy. It’s white flowers bloom in little clutches, the scent heavy in the air and when Clarke’s gaze flickers upwards she can see sunlight glimpsing from between its thick foliage. “And now…” She meets Lexa’s gaze, considering for a moment, “Lexa, Wells has a son.”

Lexa blinks, and her eyes widen. “A son?”

“He’s the reason that Pike could make him go to Oldtown and be with the maesters, he’s the reason Wells didn’t run or confess or fight.” Clarke shakes her head, a low, rough laugh escaping her. “Wells was never one to be irresponsible but this…” Her eyes meet Lexa’s again, something desperate and raw in them. “Sometimes I think that if I were only born a man my life would be so different.”

“The world is not forgiving for women like us,” Lexa agrees, lowly. “Will Wells reclaim the throne?”

“He says he doesn’t want it,” Clarke half shrugs. “I can’t imagine…”

“And he will let you keep it?” Lexa’s hand slides hesitantly across the top of the stone wall on which they sit, her fingers glancing delicately over the back of Clarke’s.

“He will,” Clarke turns her hand over and catches Lexa’s fingers with her own, lacing them together, and a ghost of s smile flickers across her lips when Lexa’s breath catches in her throat. 

“And do you want it?”

Clarke meets Lexa’s eyes, the green so deep and lovely she thinks she can smell the forests of the north from here, pine and woodsmoke. “Do I have a choice?”

“We always have a choice,” Lexa assures her, gently, and squeezes their fingers. “I think you will make the right one.”

“When Wells and I were children we would play here all the time,” Clarke glances back at the small, peaceful grove, sunlit and lovely. “Once, when it was the middle of the summer and the sun burned so hotly everyone retired to their chambers, we stripped down to our undergarments and splashed in the reflecting pool.” She can’t help the laugh that slips through her. ���Our Septa was so furious she nearly boxed our ears.” 

Lexa is smiling at her story and her thumb strokes gently over the back of Clarke’s hand. “You and he were good friends.” At Clarke’s nod she continues, “I am sure he will understand whatever your decision is.” 

“You’re probably right,” With a soft sigh, she allows herself to lean gently against Lexa’s side. There is no one to see them and she feels so world weary that she can barely stand the ache in her heart. Lexa’s hand curls more tightly around hers and she is glad that from here she can’t see Lexa’s face as she says. “I am glad you’re here, is that selfish?” 

“I’m glad I’m here too.” Lexa admits, after a moment of silence, and when Clarke glances up at her, she sees a flicker of worry and yearning in her eyes. 

“Marcus says my mother will return very soon,” She promises, her heart heavy with the words. “She is the only person left who can help me charge Pike, once that is done you can return to Winterfell knowing all is well here.”

“I’m not sure if I want to leave,” Lexa confesses, and it feels so soft and still, like something that should not have been spoken aloud. Clarke’s breath catches in her throat and she cannot tear her gaze away from Lexa’s face. “I worry about Aden and my home and my people, of course I do, but-” Her eyes meet Clarke’s and there is something earth shattering there, something that balances on the knife edge of heartache. 

Clarke’s fingers tighten around hers and Lexa swallows. They are so close to one another that Clarke can count the speckles of gold in her eyes, like a smattering of stars across the night sky. Lexa’s lips part, rosebud pink and so soft, and Clarke fears that she will not be able to stop herself when a voice from the archway breaks their reverie. 

“Your majesty.”

An exhale escapes Clarke, shivering from her chest, and she feels Lexa squeeze her fingers once more before she pulls herself away and moves to stand, wandering around the reflecting pool to gaze down into it. Clarke’s hand clenches into a fist at the loss and her pulls in a long breath before finally standing to face Octavia, stood in the archway to the courtyard. 

“What is it, Octavia?” If there is a bite of harshness to her voice she is only glad that it isn’t shown in her expression. 

“There is an envoy here to see you, from the Iron Bank.” 

Clarke’s eyes widen, and she turns meet Lexa’s surprised gaze as the northern queen crosses the courtyard to stand by her side. 

“The Iron Bank? Your letter can’t have been that fast.”

“He awaits you in your private quarters, your majesty.” Octavia’s eyes flicker between them, and Clarke feels curiosity burn in her gut. 

“Maybe they came of their own will to meet the new queen,” She muses aloud, and Lexa nods. Her fingers glance over her sword. 

“May I accompany you?” She asks, and Clarke knows how difficult it is for her to pose the question. 

“Of course.”

---

When the doors to her private solar are swung open, the first thing she sees as she steps inside is Lord Marcus. He is stood near the window speaking with a figure whose back is turned, and he smiles upon seeing her enter, bowing his head respectfully. 

“Your majesty,” He greets her, “I was just welcoming Cage Wallace, the representative sent by the Iron Bank.”

“Thank you, Lord Arryn.” The words die in her throat, her body freezing like ice as the figure turns to look at her. Though his hair is cropped short like all of the Bravossi bankers and he wears the expensive, dark coloured robes that Dante Wallace had worn, his face is utterly unmistakable. It is the face of the man from whom she had squeezed the life the night of her wedding. 

Her mind spins, struggling and before she knows it she has taken a minute step backwards. Her fingers grasp for her dagger but she does not wear it. The man’s eyes are utterly unmistakable, dark with thick eyebrows above them, age just beginning to leave its lines in the creases of his face. He looks out at her passively and she grasps for something to say, anything at all. Lexa beats her to it. 

“Are you well?” She is looking at her with concern and her own fingers are dancing across the pommel of her blade. Her gaze is searching and hard, reading the terror in Clarke’s features, and Clarke’s gaze flickers from the man professing to be Cage Wallace to Lexa and back again. At her side, Faith growls low in the back of her throat. 

“Are you, your majesty?” Marcus has come to stand beside the man and Clarke has to bite back the urge to grab him and drag him away. 

“Do you have anything to prove that you are who you say you are?” She asks at last, and her voice shakes just slightly. 

“Of course,” Lord Marcus’s face clears, though Lexa’s does not, her gaze still fixed to Clarke curiously. “You are wise to be safe, your majesty, but I have met Cage Wallace before several times with his father and though my eyes are getting older I still recognise him. I can vouch for him.”

“I believe you met my father Dante,” The man speaks at last and Clarke’s heart beats even faster. “He brought you wine, as he recalled it, and was rather taken with you.”

The words settle within her like a rock in her stomach and as she runs her eyes over this man she knows quite suddenly that they are all in danger. There is something about him that prickles her skin, and makes Faith snarl and snap, and when her eyes find Lexa and Marcus again a shiver of fear runs through her. 

“I’d like to speak to Cage Wallace alone, if you wouldn’t mind.” The pronouncement surprises everyone, not least Lexa who stares at her, eyes wide. 

“If you wish, your majesty,” Lord Marcus says at last, beginning to gesture people from the room. Only Lexa remains, her gaze hot against Clarke’s face. 

“Are you sure you wouldn’t like me to remain?” There is a note of confusion and frustration to her voice that Clarke tries her best to ignore. 

“Quite sure,” Clarke gives a nod, and when Lexa goes to protest again talks over her, her voice as hard as she make it. “Leave us if you would, Queen Lexa.”

The man’s eyes dart to Lexa with interest when Clarke says her name and it is all she can do not to launch herself across the room and rip his eyes from her face for even daring to look her way. Eventually, Lexa nods unhappily and walks from the room, bristling with fury. Honour accompanies her, but Faith remains at Clarke’s side and for that Clarke is immensely glad. 

The moment the door shuts she spins on her heel and grabs at the ornate gold vase on a pedestal near the door. It is heavy and unwieldy, but she is sure that she could smash it through the man’s skull if she had to and that is enough for her. Faith’s growl becomes a low, rumbling roar of fury, and Clarke scowls at him, holding the vase high and ready. The man stares back at her, unmoving and unaffected by her violence. 

“Who are you?” She demands on a hiss, and in the bright sunlight the man puts his hands behind his back and regards her with an utterly blank expression. 

“A man is no one.”

The words perplex and baffle her and she bristles at them, her grip on the vase not dropping. “No one is no one. You have- your face-”

“My face is not my own face.” The man says, quite simply and terror curls through Clarke’s heart at the words. 

“You’re a- you’re a faceless man,” She concludes aloud, her breath almost choking her. 

“A man is no one,” He says again, and then continues, “But for your court, I am Cage Wallace, banker of Braavos.” As he speaks something in his voice and manner changes, a sly smirk curling at the corners of his lips. “Cage Wallace is well known here, though not well liked. It was easy enough to find his way in the castle and get an audience with the queen of the south.”

“And you’re here to kill me,” She concludes, proud that her voice doesn’t shake. “Properly this time.”

“A man is not here to kill you, Queen Clarke.” His manner drops again, becoming unnervingly calm and blank. “It is not what the Many Faced God wills.”

“The Many Faced…” Her arms are beginning to ache but she cannot let her grip on her weapon go. She has not fought this hard to be baited into an easy kill now. 

“A man cannot kill out of anger or fear,” The assassin explains, his voice measured, as if he were talking of the seasons or the harvest. “To do so is to steal from the Many Faced God, a man may only kill when the price is right and the Many Faced God wills it.”

“And he- he does not will my death any longer?” Clarke feels spun out, like a child with her eyes blindfolded and twisted in circles.

“He does not.” The assassin confirms, nodding once. 

“Why not?” She can feel her voice ricocheting up with anger and fear. Where he is so emotionless and blank, she finds her own feelings bubbling to the surface despite herself. “Why change his mind now?”

Here, the assassin does smile just slightly. “Twice the Many Faced God has been asked to give you the gift of death and twice you have evaded him. You have evaded the gift that comes for us all.”

“It- it was three times,” She can’t help but correct him. 

“No, it was twice.” The man lifts his hand to his face and with one pinch he draws the face he wears away and sets it upon the long table between them. Beneath it is at entirely different face, with light eyes and darker skin. She knows enough not to think that it is the man’s real face. “Cage Wallace came to us from the Iron Bank and asked the Many Faced God for your death three times. Twice the Many Faced God tried to give you the gift of death and we did not succeed. When Cage Wallace came the third time, we refused him. It was clearly not the will of the Many Faced God for you to die.”

“But- but Cage’s face changed when I killed him, he was one of you.” Clarke protests, furiously, her grip on the vase slackening just slightly. At her side Faith is still growling softly, her hackles raised and her fur bristling. 

“Cage Wallace found out enough about us to know our craft,” The man’s face twists with displeasure, the most emotion Clarke has seen from him since she stepped into the room. “He fooled one of our novices and stole a face. It seemed he thought a face was all it took to kill someone.” A ghost of pleasure crosses his features. “You proved him wrong.”

“So why are you here?” Clarke cannot tear her eyes away from him. “If not to kill me, what do you want?”

“A life was taken from you using our craft.” He reaches into his robe and sets a heavy iron coin onto the table between them. “You are owed a life Clarke of House Tyrell. Choose one and the Many Faced God shall take it for you.”

With trembling fingers, she reaches out and takes the coin from the table, turning it within her hands. On one side is a man, whose face is blank beneath his hood, and on the other side are words. 

“Valar morghulis,” She reads aloud, her brows furrowing. 

“All men must die,” The assassin translates for her and she can feel his expectant gaze resting on her. “You may pick only one, however.”

Her eyes stay fixed to the heavy coin, turning it over and over in her hands, her fingers finding the grooves and ridges. She has had so many enemies over her time, so many people whose death would serve her well and now when faced with the choice she cannot think on one name. Pike sits on the tip of her tongue, like a habit, but she knows that if he were to be killed by an assassin he would only become a martyr to his cause and rally his people behind him. A wet nose pressing against her hand pulls her from her thoughts and she looks down to see Faith’s large head at her side, eyes gazing up at her. In that moment she knows what she will do. 

“I don’t want you to take a life,” She says finally, her voice low. Her eyes flicker up to meet his. “I want you to save one.”

He blinks, a flicker of surprise in his gaze. “Save a life.” He echoes, “We are assassins.”

“You owe me a life,” She reminds him, immediately, and curls her fingers over the coin. “I choose this one.”

He stares at her for a long moment, thinking on her words, before finally nodding. “Alright then, Queen Clarke. “We will protect a life for you. Simply say their name.”

She takes a deep breath and runs her fingers over the words on the coin again. All men must die, but they are not men. 

“Lexa of House Stark, the Queen in the North.”

---

When the Faceless Man leaves, she slips her way down to Grand Maester Orrin’s chambers, where the body of her attempted assassin lies upon a cold stone slab as the old man attempted to discover anything about his mystical powers.

When she steps into the room, a torch held aloft, her breath splutters. The face of the man on the slab is utterly blank, and upstairs in her chambers she finds that the assassin had left the face of Cage Wallace, perfectly preserved.

[astergenius]

redpill me on astrobiology

gonna b real, i honestly haven't like, kept up with the field since before high school. mostly what i do anymore on my nights off work is look at the stars and listen to modest mouse and cry

i do think a lot tho about, like, ...emergent systems? is that a phrase that means what i want it to? astrobiology is the study of the origin of life on earth and the possibility of life on other planets, and, we talk about how the first cells came to be, "primordial soup", under what conditions do proteins put themselves together and start moving. and i think a lot about-- i reblogged a post from you about the locus of an agreement, is the abstract construct of an agreement reducible, is it in your neurons or your actions or the words you say to your neighbor? is it in the prediction of the future? and i think its self-evident, straightforwardly true that given our communicative technologies and collective power, that humans act as neurons for something. or as actions or as words. that there are -- maybe sentient, maybe conscious! -- patterns that we are too small to see. i don't know that that changes anything for us -- maybe it does, maybe it doesn't, but i think its obviously true. and i think there are visible patterns too -- what is a corporation? what is a government? what is a collective? what is the internet? how do we talk about cognition that happens not within me or within you but between us?

i think about being a hawk, or a rabbit. my survival depending entirely on how keenly i can model my surroundings and how swiftly i can react to changes in my model. perception is a form of thinking. just looking and listening and feeling is a type of intelligence. i sit in my backyard and i watch the birds and squirrels and the bugs and the trees and the grass and the plants and the dirt and i hear the birds and the breeze and the cars and the rustling and the relentless hum. i draw plants, because they stay still long enough, and the drawing is really just looking, looking at details and proportions and how each section catches the light, and for certain i notice things i wouldn't if i just looked with my eyes. sometimes i go to the woods instead of my backyard, and sometimes i sit still enough for long enough that i startle wildlife. i met a coyote that way once. the woods nearby are big but nowhere near big enough to escape the everpresent hum, and i can't see nearly enough anyway, come home feeling more lost than before. blind and deaf and muffled and concussed.

i walk around my block every day and i see probably 200 separate individual 4-bedroom houses and 2-family condos and maybe 5 people on a given day. i see live birds and dead birds and mown grass and planted flowers and concrete and asphalt and brick and wire. i know exactly what goes on on the concrete and asphalt and inside the bricks, or close enough. nearly every square foot is For something. and i go back to my backyard and tbh its pretty good as far as yards in the area go, pretty big and wev got a lot of different trees and we feed the birds and don't mow our grass too often and the neighbors have a little pond so we've got a lot of minor wildlife. but i can still see where things begin and end, i can count the trees and name the garden plants and point to the Garden and the Lawn and the Driveway. the little animals view the space a lot differently, from myself and each other, based on where they can go and where other creatures can go and what they might need to avoid. the cats walk straight between lawns and through and over and under fences and onto porches and in and out of houses like its nothing, and my housemate yells at the neighbor kids for playing in our yard even though its bigger and flatter and there's no fence. and sometimes i go to the woods instead and its dense, despite the invasive uniformity of honeysuckle and garlic mustard and the broken glass and plastic there's dozens and hundreds of lives per square foot, well over the canopies, on hills that were farmland 200 years ago. legibility is a form of violence.

perception is a form of thinking and legibility is a form of violence and increasingly, increasingly data exists about every human person and what are we doing with it? targeting ads. i dont know. i don't know.

i think im probably crazy, and i know i need more sunlight and fresh air than i actually get, and i think my plan for the next 10 years is just to read about ecology and neuroscience and keep a notebook and be outside as much as possible. go to some protests, maybe get into permaculture. reread annihilation, again. knit.

i got a little carried away and i know this is kind of illegible, paragraph-structure-wise, and its more than i usually say to anyone all at once, and its not really what you asked for but its what you got. thanks for reading this far, if you did. i like your blog and your spiders <3

[honeybeewriter]

Icarus

Chapter 1: The Rebel Princess

Au: Fantasy AU

Word count: 2.6k 

Pairing: Hawks x reader

Warning: Smoking, light cussing

Link to next part:

A/N: im super excited to be writing this story! its my first story ive written in a long time and im super happy to share the first chapter of Icarus with you guys! hope yall enjoy it as much i as i do!

Aesthetic:

This overbearing weight of being royalty and responsibilities of princess has hung on your shoulders like a horse stomping on a snake, it was awful to say the least. Along with this your father had now set up an arranged marriage to the kingdom next over to make peace: something you did not want. No, your heart soared for adventure and your senses longed to smell the sea and feel the cool breeze through your (h/c) locks. It’s a wish, a dream, something far from your grasp.  

The morning dew settled among the kingdom, golden warm rays flooded in through the window, caressing your face, rubbing against your eyes as they flutter open. The feeling of silk and cotton danced along your naked legs, you stir awake, outstretching your arms. A gentle knock echo’s out into the silent room, before the creaking of the door opening. “Ah,princess (l/n) you’re awake!” The maid known as Mina entered the room, with a bow. “You know m’lady you should get out for a while! I know about your little dreams” Mina laughs as your face flusters “Mina!” you exclaimed and held your hands to your face “I’ll cover for you, Please don’t bring home another fae!” you had jumped out of bed at the thought of adventure. “Mina! Tamaki is a nice fae!! Don’t be rude!” You both erupt in fits of laughter. What a start to the day. 

Adventure was in the air, as you snuck out of the castle. You dawn a fine silk gown that a fair maiden would wear, a pale lavender tone matched with a wine red hooded cloak: To hide your identity from the ones who would stitch to your father.  

Across the forest, in a cart with friends laughing and having fun. A winged man stood with a guitar singing a merry tune, a man with burn scars guiding a horse with a scowl, a woman with blonde hair in buns reading her daily tarots card. The winged man lowers his guitar and his singing fades as he begins to speak “Hey Toga, whats is my card today?” he asked, sitting in front of the witch, who then shuffles them a few times before drawing out. The wheel of fortune. “Oh! Change is coming! This can be exciting, this means something big is at work, but what goes up must come down. Therefore be careful when change comes!” Toga explained before putting away her cards her satchel. The man with scars turned around and glanced at the two “There is a kingdom coming up, and we need to resupply before heading onwards.” His voice husk from smoking as teen, he still does nonetheless. The song of the frogs and bird sang throughout the woods as the trots of the horse and that squeaky wheel join in the chorus.

The winged man looks to the sky and ponders,Hm change? I wonder what the winds will bring me? The clouds line the sun, like curtains with only peeks of yellows rays shining down. The cart comes to a stop, and the man with raven hair and scars stood up, while lighting a cigarette “Alright we are here, no trouble, gather supplies and come back to the cart before sunset” He inhales the tobacco and puffs out a cloud of smoke. “Got it, keigo?” 

Keigo looks back with a smirk “Me trouble, pssh, never. You’re the one that burnt that caravan, Dabi, oh powerful burnt bastard!” Dabi snarls, clenching his fist tightly “Get out of here you damn buzzard!” keigo waved him off as he slipped on a leather jacket that was inscribed with magical rune that hid his wings. “Meet here at sunset, got it crazy?” Dabi spoke to toga as keigo ventured off into the kingdom.

The town was lively and hardy, towns folk chatter and trade, while the echoes of laughter of children and barks from the stray dogs dance throughout the streets. The smell of fresh baked goods with the smell of blood from the meat market, not very pleasant to smell. You browsed the fruit stands, gliding your hand along the fresh picks, thinking within your thoughts of today's adventure; maybe a nice picnic in my secret garden, or maybe an adventure in the outside forest. Your mind was so deep in thought that you hadn't noticed that a certain knight was next to you. 

“Ahem!” the knight coughed, causing you to jump with fear, as your eyes followed the armor, you gulped.. Iida.. “What are you doing here Iida!” you barked as you gathered up some fruit that had caught your eye, paying the merchant. “I should be asking you that Princess.”  Iida was a stickler for the kings rules and so the king had appointed young iida as your bodyguard, since you liked to skip out and such. “Iida please let me have today off! Please!” you begged as you held the bag fruit to your chest, bouncing like a child begging for a sweet. 

Now usually rumors and gossip caught Keigo's attention but, overhearing the about the rebellious princess, now that caught his keen hearing. As he turns from the stand he sees a tall knight and a cloaked person unknowingly, it was the princess. He strolls on over and wraps an arm around your neck. “Look, knight, i'm sure you have some crown to guard, so do me and my friend here a favor and bug off would yah?” and without waiting for an answer keigo whisps you away into the crowded streets. 

“Geez what a killjoy!” keigo said as he leads you to a quieter part of town, “Ha, I'm sorry if that was weird or if i made you uncomfortable, but that knight seemed to be hard on yo-” Keigo was cut off as you whipped out your opal knife, “Look i don’t know you or where you came from, you take me back to my knight!” You snarled. Keigo just laughed and grabs gentle onto your wrist, lowering the knife “Ah so you are the rebellious princess i’ve heard about! Tell me, Do you really want to go back?” you look defeated and huffed, shaking your head no as you sheath your knife. 

“No not really i just want to go to my garden and eat.” You said as you lowered your cloaks hood. Keigo finally got a good look at your face, (h/l) beautiful (h/c) hair, along with a pair of radiant (E/c) orbs, that sparkled in the sun. You looked just like a princess, no.. a queen at best. His eyes lit up as he looked your body up and down. “Will you please stop oodling me, come on, i guess you will have to be my pretend bodyguard for now” You spoke, you knew when they found the both of you. The two of yall were in serious trouble, him more so, i mean kidnapping a princess that is very bad to the king. 

The streets grew into dirt roads, and the houses disappear as you walked further into the depth of the kingdom, humming a tune, singing as you go. Keigo follows of course, his curiosity growing about you, a runaway princess. 

 “Down in the depths, where the marble stairs cry, to left pink flowers hang their lives, make a right. Trot down the path into the pine, two stones of moss on the northside, listen to the whisper of the willow that lays upon the pond bank , that is where you will find. The sweet little spot of mine.”

Pure white marble stairs lay in bed against the hillside, a makeshift stream runs down the steps, carrying twigs and leaves, a sight to see. Such sad marble stairs longing to be cleaned and re-purposed. Keigo watched as you took off your shoes, the sound of splashing as you walk down the steps. He follows in suit taking his own shoes off, the pitter patter of wet feet echo throughout the silent forest-line.

You stop and look up, “Up there is where the pink flowers hang.” you loop your arm with his as you tell the story about a lonely prince who once lived in this ruin. How his family had gotten a witch to curse the boy, he was a sweet green haired prince who wanted adventure like yourself, but one day he had crossed a line into the dragon land, and he had fallen in love with the king. But once his family found out he was shunned, and casted out. One day his dragon king had found him and they were happy, but the curse of the witch:

Those be warned who want to find the lost, if you travel further than the pine you will find poison, outcast from his family, a lock against the seal, betrayed, outcasted its a weakened deal. The blood of royalty lay among the scales, heed my warning, your life frail. 

“Story of the green prince and the king.. So is this place cursed or something?” Keigo asked as you both walk into the pine forest “i believe it is cause i found the skeletons of the two” You said as your hand glides across the brush as you walk. “That must have been a sight to see.”  Your face fell as the memory plays in your head. The two skeletons embracing in against a tree seemly untouched by mother nature. “A pure sad sight” You tug the blonde male along the path. 

Two stones with moss on the northside, and the whispering willow. The two of you stop admiring the willows horror filled beauty. The willow had to be at least 100 years old, her branches twisting and growing in a way that makes your stomach get a sick feeling. A thick fog rolling over the lake, like a dress dancing over a marble floor. 

“So are we almost there?” Keigo asks his eyes fixed out onto the stilled water. Taking the male’s hand you pull him along into the ruin of clay and brick, a small grotto hides away this lostwonder of a place. Keigo's eyes widen, what a hidden away little base. “Wow, this must have been their home.” Keigo rubbed the back of his neck as he took a seat on the edge of the water basin, you sat next to the male and pulled out the fruit bag that you had bought earlier. 

“So what brings you to the kingdom of berbile?” you questioned With a small chuckle as he takes a pear, 

“I'm actually just passin by, me and a few friends are heading west towards the coast.” He takes a bite of the green fruit, the juice running down into his beard. Your ears perk up at the mention of the ocean.  ‘Wait you mean the ocean! That's like a 5 month cart drive! Give or take if weather and such.” your voice chirps, your eyes brighten at the thought of the salty breeze.

 You take a chomp out of your (F/F) as he explains the mission that his leader sent him on

. “Keigo, dabi and toga i need you three to go west and find recruits, send them back this way we are finally going to take down the two kingdoms along the way, When you get to the ocean that is when you will turn around and come back.”

 Keigo looks at you and ponders “you want adventure, do you not?” 

Keigo quirks his eyebrow at you. You frantically nod your head. “Yes yes!! More than anything! My father has set up an arranged marriage and to hell with keeping the peace to the kingdom” You jump up on the bricks of where you were sitting “I rather see the world!” You exclaimed, pumping your fist into the air. 

Keigo grins “Well why don't you get a maid to gather clothes and meet me by the castle walls near the stables, tonight after dark?”

--

Later on you both went separate ways to avoid getting caught by iida and the other guards, The night set among the land, the quarter moon in the sky guiding your path to the outskirts of the kingdoms edge. 

“Mina i have to go, this is my only chance to get adventure! I won't be coming back, please come with me, won't you!” You held your bag in your arms, dawning a black cloak, money clattered in the coin purse as you pull against minas arm. “(Y/n) as much as i know you want adventure you know, your father will be mad if he finds you gone!” She huffs and pulls you back towards your room. 

“Tell him I died or something I don't care! I'm leaving this kingdom, and you're not stopping me!”  you exclaimed with tears in your eyes, jerking your arms back to your side. Mina looks at you, her eyes soften and a damn broke through, her cheeks flooded and pink. 

“Go, Ill cover for you” You embrace each other in a tight hug before your crawled down the makeshift bed sheet ropes and disappeared into the darkness. 

Giving one last look to the home you grew up in. The hell that was raised, your mother would be proud of you for leaving this greed filled kingdom. 

Dabi tapped his foot impatiently, “You said this girl would be here by now, Where is she!?” he barked, flicking the ash from his cigarette, keigo huffed and  stretched his neck looking over nothing to see if anyone was there Where is she? He pondered. Out of the shadows a small hooded figure comes running, a 2 large bag on its back and a large purse in the other.

Toga grins, looking up from her spot in the cart “oh? You made friends with the Princess I see now~” toga giggled as keigo brushed her off, lighting a torch and holding it out “Two stones!” he called out, dabi and toga give him a weird look before hearing. “With moss on the northside!” a soft voice returns 

Keigo jumps off the old wooden cart, his boots met the mud as your flats met the end of the stone road. You flipped your hood down allowing your (h/c) locks to fall into place. “So it is the princess, damn hawks. Boss will be pleased.” Dabi takes a drag, blowing out a cloud of ashy smoke. “Alright princess, load up, it's gonna be a long journey.” 

You get into action, tossing your bags into the bed of the worn cart, Toga leaning against the edge, looking you over. “This is certainly some change, a princess joining 3 commoners. I'm sure once the king finds out your missing, people will be after us.” The blond female giggles and sits back down, “Call me (Y/n) (L/N). please. No need to be formal, its stupid.” 

Keigo helps you into the cart and then jumps up into the passenger seat next to dabi. “Well you know who i am, This burnt bastard is dabi, Just dabi, he refuses to tell us his real name, and that little crazy next to you is Toga!”

Dabi whips the reins, causing the horses that pull the cart to move on. The clatter of hooves against the ground, the old night owl, singing his hunting song. The voices of the howling wolves, echo throughout the forest. Keigo takes off his magical jacket,  and a pair of beautiful deep  crimson wings emerge. Your eyes in wonder, “Wait you didn't tell me that you had wings, keigo!!” 

“Makes him look like a buzzard if you ask me!” Dabi chims as toga laughs. “Hah, Yeah each of us has some kind power, i'm a witch, dabi up there is a warlock and keigo is just cursed!” Toga explained. 

You look over the three with a warm smile. Adventure was well among its way, and youll be there to greet it with open arms

[babbushka]

Beautiful, Beloved (1/8)

You had met three times: The first, an introduction. The second, a lunch. The third, your wedding. Can bonds be made in such short a time as a week long honeymoon aboard the immensely impressive RMS Titanic?

Yes, yes they can.

Kylo Ren x Reader 

Word Count: 4400

Warnings: NSFW 

Also available on AO3! 

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

You had met him three times in total.

The first had been an introduction. The second, a luncheon. The third was today, your wedding.

You never imagined being married, let alone married to a stranger.  

Of course that was a silly thought to be had, because of course you would need to marry – but something about actually holding the title was a feeling you for some reason had never imagined.

Lady Ren. How thrilling, you thought with a smile.

There certainly were worse strangers to be married to, you thought.

Your smile turned to an expression of mild panic as you tightened your grip on your newly wedded husband’s arm, the car making a sharp left turn out of the blue. His gloved hand rested gently on your arm, gave it a reassuring pat.

“I think that went rather well, don’t you?” Lord Ren, your newly wedded husband offered dryly.

The two of you were seated in the back of a brand-new automobile, a wedding present from your in-laws.

It was the new model of Rolls Royce, something called the silver ghost. Aptly named, for the sunlight glittered off the highly polished exterior and the engine was the softest you had heard yet.

The mechanic drove well, although you were still suspicious of the machinery. The clean streets of the city gave way to beautifully manicured parks and gardens as the world zipped past, making the journey from your wedding venue to the place you would call home forever.

You tore your eyes away from the blur of trees and pavement to Lord Ren, who was referring to the wedding no doubt.

It had gone off without a hitch, a beautiful afternoon ceremony as was fashionable for the day. Your dress remained crisp and clean the whole way through, and all the guests left well fed. It was a long wedding, but a pleasant one, the only tears that were shed were those of happiness.

“Yes, I think so too.” You nodded, holding on as the car made another turn.

“No one was punched, anyway.” Lord Ren muttered, seemingly under his breath.

“Punched?” You asked with eyebrows raised, amused.

“A fist-fight broke out at my parent’s wedding. My uncle had to step in and break it up; so I’d say we’re already doing better than them.” Lord Ren ran a hand through his hair, unusually long for societal standards.

You found that you liked that about him, his deviancy.

“May I ask who was fighting whom?” You hedged, not wanting to overstep.

“My father, and the man who had come to collect his debts.” Lord Ren replied, surprisingly unashamed.

“What a scandal!” You couldn’t help but laugh, “Who won?”

“My father did. I’m surprised you never read of it in the papers.” Lord Ren regarded you with something akin to warmth, tucked a stray hair underneath your veil from where the wind had pulled it free.

You lingered on the moment, already feeling yourself grow fond for this man. Perhaps he wouldn’t be a stranger for long.

“I’m afraid I don’t have much time for reading the news, my charity work keeps me busy.” You admitted.

You hoped that wouldn’t be an issue, your charity work. You took a great deal of pride in it, and had no intention of reigning in your efforts for the eradication of child labor, and the education of young lower class girls.

You had heard much about Lord Ren’s politics, and you knew him to be quite a charitable man as well, albeit one with a more…explosive reputation.  

“Not too busy that I won’t see hide nor hair of you, I hope.” He surprised you with his gentleness, how reserved he was.

This did not look like the man who angrily drew his sword and held it to the throats of barons, who threw large tantrums and shattered antiques with ease when a letter came bearing bad news, who once choked a poor footman near-half to death -- as the stories went.

You had been afraid at first, when your parents announced the plans for you to marry such a man.

You were worried that he would be unkind towards you, or distant altogether. An heir and a spare, as they said. You had been assured that taking a lover was perfectly acceptable once the children had been born and the inheritance would have a viable heir to go to, but something in you spoke loudly, wanting to love the man you married. Everyone called you a romantic.

Everyone said there was no place for romance in marriage. You had intended to prove them wrong.

So when it was announced that Lord Kylo Ren was to be man, you suddenly grew unsure. He was a man with a reputation. People feared him, you did not want to fear him too.

Lord Ren looked intimidating, you had to admit, what with his entirely black ensemble and large scar that adorned his face. You understood how it could be so easy to fear him, this appearance combined with the personality that was so heavily gossiped about.

Perhaps it was this combination that he was working to counter-act; being ever so slightly more careful, as to not scare you.

The thought, however true or false it may be, made you warm.

“I should ask the same of you.” You said, as the automobile slowed.

Lord Ren smiled when you did not immediately remove your arm from his, content to leave it there as the grand entryway of the estate came into view.

“We’re here, ready to see your new home?” He asked you, and you nodded.

“Close your eyes.” He said, and you did, keeping them shut as you felt the engine putter underneath you.

 Only a few moments later did Lord Ren carefully, ever so gently, remove your satin gloved hands from your face, giving you the hint to open your eyes.

The estate was, in a word, extravagant.

The land and gardens were a sight to behold, lush greenery that felt almost like a painting -- grass could certainly not be so green! But the house itself, was a sight to behold all on its own.

It was a beautiful shade of yellow, like that of freshly churned butter, or daffodils. It seemed to stretch on forever, at least three stories tall. There was even a circular tower near the front, you hoped it sported views of the pond just across, where swans leisurely floated atop crystal clear waters. You wondered if the estate had a rowboat, or if one could be purchased.

The automobile came to a halt just outside the grand courtyard, where the mechanic put the car in park. The entire staff was lined up outside to greet you and your husband, a footman hurried to open the door for you.

“Lord and Lady Ren, welcome home.” A man whom you assumed to be the butler greeted you, as the line of staff bowed or curtsied.

“Oh it’s gorgeous!” You replied, gratefully taking the butler’s hand and stepping down from the Rolls Royce, eager to stretch your legs after the nearly hour long journey from the city.

“Do you like it? I had it built especially for you, I tried to emulate the countryside with the landscaping.” Lord Ren joined you and stood by your side, careful not to step on your train or veil.

“Just for me?” You asked in return, eyes widening at the beauty and sheer newness of the house. It must have only just finished being constructed, there was no trace of dirt or wear on the yellow brick.

“Yes, I didn’t want you to feel like you had to conform to my estate.” Lord Ren replied.

“Has anyone ever told you you’re incredibly considerate?” You asked, a rhetorical question.

“No, they certainly haven’t.” He answered anyway.

You smiled, you were happy to be the first.

 The inside of the house was just as magnificent as the outside, perhaps even more-so. Everything was so light, windows as tall as you were with open curtains allowed sunshine to pour into the rooms.

All the furniture was painted a light brown, with cream or ivory or golden upholstery to match the beautifully papered walls. Crystal chandeliers reflected light which bounced around the room through freshly polished mirrors, little rainbows dancing across the vases and various ornaments.

Portrait paintings hung on the walls in large ornate frames that reminded you very much of the Louvre. Pity the French couldn’t maintain their monarchy, you thought with the smallest of laughs.

“Can we go to the bedroom?” You asked, boldly.

Lord Ren quirked a smile, and nodded, leading you down a set of corridors and hallways.

The bedroom was small, and you liked that. Liked that it meant you could be closer to your husband, should you both be in the room at the same time.

The walls were a beautiful camel color, with decorative crown molding that ran the perimeter of the ceiling. They were papered in an ornate filigree style, and thoughtfully covered with old paintings. You wondered who the people in the paintings were, if they were relatives, or just purchased for their aesthetic value.

There were large windows and desks which faced them, a beautiful rug that must have come from Persia if the weaving was anything to go by, but most impressive of all was the bed.

It wasn’t a very wide bed, but that you didn’t mind. You envisioned many nights spent pressed against your husband, if he were amicable towards such a thing. You would soon find out, you supposed, as the sun was already beginning to dip below the rolling hills of the horizon.

The bed was a canopy, with thick golden curtains that were drawn – for the time being. You took a step towards them, ran your fingers over the fabric. It was velvet, with a pressed satin design which matched the wallpaper. It seemed as though Lord Ren had a very developed eye for decoration, you thought, letting your fingers run through the satin fringe that lined the curtains.

The sheets were the softest of cottons, pure white. You couldn’t wait to muss them.

Your husband stepped behind you, placed a hand on your waist. It was so large, warm. Even through the layers of your clothing you could feel the heat radiating off of him.

“Lord Ren – ” You started, turning around only to have him shake his head.

“Please, (Y/N), call me Kylo.” He interrupted softly, making you blush.

You didn’t know when the last time someone other than your parents called you by your first name was.

“Kylo,” You rectified, “Are you happy? With this arrangement, I mean.”

He looked at you for a little while, sun shining in his incredibly brown eyes. You wondered what he was thinking, what was going through his mind.

He carefully took one of your hands and placed the palm against his cheek, the one free of the scar. You furrowed your brow slightly, removed your hand, only to replace it with your other one. You cupped his other cheek, not minding in the slightest how the scar rippled and puckered the skin there.

“Yes, I daresay I am.” He said, his eyes searching yours. “Are you?”

“Yes, I am.” You nodded, sparing a glance down to his lips.

You hadn’t done much kissing, but you thought if ever there were a pair of lips to practice on, these were them. Kylo’s lips were so full, plush. They had a natural redness to them that made you wonder if he had spent his youth biting them to make them so pigmented.

Kylo’s own hand mirrored yours as he gently held your face and pressed his lips to yours. The first kiss outside of your wedding, and it was magical in its innocence.

It did not, however, remain innocent, as only mere moments passed before Kylo’s tongue was pressing against the seam of your lips, your mouth yielding to him, opening for him. You could feel your pulse quicken, and it suddenly seemed stifling, so hot in your dress. You wondered if Kylo was burning up as well.

“They’ll be waiting, won’t they?” Kylo said, breaking the kiss. He leaned his forehead against your own, and you nodded.

“Yes, they will. We’d do best to not disappoint them, wouldn’t you say?” You asked with the hint of a tease to your tone, licking your lips, already feeling the goosebumps down your arms.  

“I’ve wanted this for a long time.” Kylo quirked the smallest of smiles, ran his hands down your sides.

“I know we know very little of one another, but please know this: I won’t ever keep you in suspense.” You said, daring to press the words into the skin of his neck, leaving a kiss there before pulling away.

“Good, I don’t like to wait.” Kylo replied, heat in his eyes.

You grinned.

 You had never seen such a sculpted body as your husbands, but you would have a chance to marvel once the heat of your clothing was removed from your own body.

Getting Kylo out of his clothes was a fast affair.

Getting you out of yours, however, was slightly more laborious.

You sweetened the deal with a kiss, the sliding of your tongue against his spurred his hands.

Wasn’t the wedding night supposed to be a passionate affair? How could anyone get away with such a thing when there required at least ten minutes of unlacing and unhooking?

He first began by unclasping your belt and deftly unbuttoning the front of your dress bodice, sliding that and the jacket off of your shoulders, the both of you watching as it fluttered gracefully to the floor.

The skirt, a light petticoat, and all your underclothes remained, and Kylo just had to take a break to kiss you.

“I’ll never understand why there are so many layers.” Kylo grumbled as he carefully removed your corset cover, making you laugh so much that his hands stilled in shock.

“I’m sorry! Please don’t stop,” You said in a fit of giggles, “It’s just, neither will I.” You smiled up at him, earning a smile back.

You let out a sigh of relief when the corset came off, Kylo carefully plucking the strings away. It was never too tight of course, the hysteria and trends of tight-lacing long gone, but still, there was something so refreshing about letting yourself loose after a long day.

Down to your chemise, drawers and stockings, Kylo took a step back, kneeling before you.

His eye contact was smoldering, as he lifted the chemise enough to snap off the garters that held the stockings up. He took care to unlace the tie holding up your drawers, letting the cotton fall to the floor.

Your cunt throbbed, the wetness between your legs slippery. Kylo was handsome, kneeling there in front of you, his bare chest and hard cock on display.

You liked that he was hard, liked that he wanted you, really wanted you.

“Let me see you?” He asked, and your hands shook with eager anticipation as you pulled the chemise over your head, letting it fall as well.

Finally, you removed the pins that held your hair up, let it fall down with everything else. This act, letting your hair down, felt like the most intimate thing you had ever done.

You were completely on display for him, nipples hardening against the fresh air, stomach tensed with a nervousness reserved for a first fuck such as this.

“You’re gorgeous.” He licked his lips, hands twitching, wanting to touch you. You wanted nothing more than just that.

You walked backwards to the bed, stopping only when the backs of your knees hit the mattress.

Kylo was on you in an instant, finally finally finally able to get his hands on your skin.

He kissed and kissed you, mouth hot and incessant, pressing against your lips, your throat, your shoulders. His hands, large as they were, spanned across your breasts with ease, and he gave them a strong squeeze, pinched at those nipples of yours that were begging for attention.

He laid you down, settled himself on top of you, your legs parting for him so easily. You couldn’t help but grin, feeling the thrill of the moment. Your stomach was doing flips, like how it would on an automobile driving too quickly. You never wanted him to pump the brakes.

“Kylo, please.” You whined, wanting to feel him already.

“Not yet, I’ve got to get you ready for me.” He kissed your face, bit at your jaw just the slightest amount. It wouldn’t do to have marks on your skin, at least where they could be seen.

You were grateful for the high collars of fashionable dress.

“But – ” You protested with a frown, you wanted to feel him, all of him, right down to that cock of his that was poking and prodding at your stomach as he kneaded your chest.

“You see this?” He sat back on his heels, dipping the mattress.

You were laid on your back by now, on top of the covers, lace pillows propping up your head.

He took his dick in his hand, stroked it. You nodded, you did see it, you saw all of it, your mouth watering from it.

You rose onto all fours, crawled to where he kneeled.

“I see it.” You swallowed.

He his lip and nodded, a hand guiding the back of your head forward, until you were close enough to lick a stripe up the shaft, making him take in a sharp breath.

“There’ll be plenty of time for that,” Kylo said, pulling his cock away much to your disapproval, “I’ve got to prepare you, and fast, or I might just come all over these perfect tits of yours.”

“Would that be such a shame?” You asked, making him grin.

“Let me at least come in you first.” He reasoned, and you sighed dramatically, laying on your back theatrically.

From this view, you could see the blotches of flush blooming on his chest – and how muscular it was! You knew that the physique was undesirable for men of his status, but you couldn’t help but grow ever more wet for him, the way his abs flexed under his smooth skin.

The scar traveled down his face and shoulders onto his chest, shiny and white, long healed.  

You didn’t give any more thought to it as his fingers wasted little time sliding between your legs, the tips just barely grazing your folds.

He looked to you, cock dripping and hanging heavy between his legs, and you nodded, wanting to hurry the process along, desperately wanting to feel how full this would make you.

His fingers were thick, and when he thrust them into your cunt you let out a long oh at the feeling.

“Relax for me.” He murmured, his hair falling into his face.

You dropped your hips, not realizing how tense you had made them just out of sheer desperation. He bent down to kiss you, a droplet of sweat landing on your cheek, as he took advantage of your calm and pushed those fingers into you some more.

“Please Kylo, I can’t take much more of this.” You begged, and he huffed, clearly wanting to spend more time than you did with his fingers up your cunt, but he gave you what you wanted as he pulled away.

“If it’s too much, you tell me, okay?” He asked, and you nodded, eager, so eager.

Your eyes fluttered shut at the feeling of him lining himself up, the head of his cock parting your lips and sinking into you.

“Yes!” you gasped, head thrown back as he pulled you down the mattress by your hips, pulling you onto his cock.

“God damn,” Kylo breathed out, pushing his way into you further and further. “You’re so tight.”

“You’re so big!” You replied, making him laugh. You liked the sound of his laugh.

“I fucking told you, didn’t I?” He grinned up at you, eyes going glassy as his hips slowly started thrusting, trying to get deeper and deeper and deeper into you.

“Yeah, you did, come on give me more.” You encouraged, lifting your legs and wrapping them around his hips.

It felt so natural, so good, and you moaned, embarrassingly loud noises coming from your throat as he fucked you well and true.

His cock seemed to go on forever, and by the time he had managed to open you up all the way, slide his cock as deep into you as it could go, you were both panting from the exertion.

You held onto him, his shoulders, gripped at his back as he had to plant one of his feet on the floor to give himself the proper leverage to fuck you.

You latched your mouth to his neck, sucked and kissed there as you clenched around him, wanting to make this feel just as good for him as it did for you. You couldn’t believe how much the both of you were sweating, the noises that you were making.

Kylo was grunting like he was in pain, his face pinched up, mouth open. You kissed him, your hands groping his strong pectorals, pinching at his own nipples. You figured if it felt so good for you, it’d feel good for him too.

He let out a long low groan when you did that, reaching up to tweak one of yours playfully in return.

“Kylo!” You cried his name, and he did his best to fuck you and kiss you at the same time. “I’m going to – ”

He cut you off with a kiss. He was tall, you hadn’t realized how that might pose a problem; the poor man had to bend himself down just to reach your lips as his hips pistoned into you.

“Me too, just a minute longer.” He asked, and you nodded, tried your best.

His hips grew more and more erratic, his grip on your waist bruising. He was almost white-knuckled, fingers leaving a print when he pulled on away to reach down to your pussy, push between your folds and find your clit.

When he did, he rolled it between his fingers, making you shout out and come, your cunt clamping down around his cock, come gushing and making the most obscene of sounds. You felt like you were on top of the world, all of the nerves in your body alight with pleasure; you couldn’t stop crying out his name, a chant of Kylo spilling from your lips.

“Oh shit!” Kylo gasped as he ground his hips as far into you as they could go, bordering just shy of painful.

You had to wiggle and lift your hips to get a better angle, only allowing him to pump his come deeper into you. You could feel it, you swore you could, how hot it was, coursing through you.

Finally, it seemed like all the tension in his shoulders melted away, and he collapsed on top of you, crushing you under his chest from his height.

“Was it good?” Kylo asked, panted.

“Yes,” You replied with a hazy smile, “I’m going to want this all the time.”

“We’ll make the family very happy then,” Kylo smiled back, “All the heirs we’re going to have.”

You just laughed, and despite his hardened exterior, he laughed too.

Kylo pulled out eventually, fascinated by the sight of his come slowly dripping out of you. He pushed it back in before wiping his hand on the sheets, making you smile.

“Are you hungry?” He asked, even as he rubbed his cheek on your breast, settled his face down there against your skin, nose prodding your softened nipple.

He got comfortable, and you gently brushed his hair out of your face, combed your fingers through it. It was silky and soft, albeit a little wet from sweat.

“No, I’m still stuffed from the dinner.” You replied, and he hummed.

Kylo wedged a hand under your back, holding you.

The sun had officially gone below the horizon, and night time had arrived. You didn’t think you had ever seen this many stars, through the great big windows just opposite the bed.

In the light of the moon, Kylo’s back shone with cooling sweat. You traced patterns across the skin there with the lightest of touches.

“You’re not like anything I thought you’d be.” You admitted with a yawn.

“And what was that?” He asked, voice muffled by your skin.

“When your name is spoken, people tend to recoil in fear. I find nothing frightening about you.” You combed through his hair, pushed it back away from his face and neck, exposing an ear.

It was big, just like the rest of him. You gave it a gentle squeeze, and he huffed, clearly self-conscious.

“Careful now, it’s only been one day.” He hummed, before snuffling and breathing in your scent. “I could get used to this.”

“You can have me whenever you’d like, provided just one thing.” You mused.

“What’s that?” He left his other hand lightly squeeze at your other breast, the one he wasn’t currently using as a pillow.

“I get to have you whenever I’d like.” You grinned, and his shoulders shook with a gentle laugh.

“I think I can manage that.” He nodded, kissing your sternum. “I imagine I’d like to have you all over our rooms on our honeymoon.”

The honeymoon!

“Would you believe I completely forgot we were going on such a trip?” You thought out loud, making him chuckle. He was exceptionally affectionate, you were coming to find. “Do you mind me asking where we’ll be going? I’d like to pack accordingly.”

“I wanted it to be a surprise.” He replied, but you were having none of that.

“Please?” You tried, feeling quite victorious when he let out a resigned sigh.

“Have you heard of the Titanic?” He asked, lifting his head and regarding you with a smile.

You were stunned, not knowing what to expect, but certainly not expecting that.

A surprise indeed.  

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I hope you all enjoyed this chapter! My apologies for it being so short, the future chapters to come will be much longer! 

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