#I went over really early this morning and got started on my unholy deep clean

[becca-e-barnes]

Cannot stop thinking about making a really submissive Bucky cum until he can't anymore 😵‍💫

I love the thought of working load after load from him and the way that he'd go from being pretty quiet and composed to whimpering and writhing, unsure if he needs more or less of your touch.

Getting him to a stage where he feels empty. He feels like he has nothing left to give you. You've made him watch as you jerk him off with a delightfully lubed hand, squeezing and tugging until his cock is twitching and throbbing and shooting thick, messy stripes of cum against your palm. You don't stop after he's finished though. His release only makes the glide of your hand smoother and the sight of his own pearly cum being worked back over his cock makes him hard again in no time.

"Please." He groans, throwing his head back, exposing his beautiful throat. Your hand tightens around his cock involuntarily and you find yourself almost wishing you had your other hand around his neck. "Please don't make me cum again. I-I can't."

Bless him, his strong thighs are twitching, his muscles tense, trying to force his body to listen to his brain for just a second.

"Sweetheart, I don't think you're empty yet. You gave me so much cum just a few minutes ago." You let yourself give in just a little, leaning over and kissing along the column of his throat, enjoying the light salty perspiration against your lips.

Bucky rolls his hips but it's hard for him to tell if he's trying to lean into your touch or away from it. In truth, he loves feeling like this. He loves having his cum milked from him and having no choice but to enjoy the mind numbing pleasure of your body.

His thighs are streaked with evidence of his own lust and he's almost ashamed that he's still hard. Not just as hard as he was when you started though.

"F-Fuck." The slick sound of your hand pumping him quickly is overwhelming. Your grip is tight on his shaft while you cup his balls, squeezing and teasing them gently, encouraging them to work overtime for you.

"I can't cum again. I can't." Bucky pants, whimpering when he forces his eyes to meet yours again.

"You told me that last time. I'm not sure when you decided it would be a good idea to lie to me but I promise you, it isn't." Your tone would make him tense but he's tense already, trying to hold back an orgasm he truly doesn't need.

"This is the last orgasm I want from you. You can manage it for me, can't you?" You sound so sincere this time, he can't help but agree.

"Good boy. Now cum nice and hard for me. I want to hear how pathetic you sound."

For the next few minutes, there are no sounds except the delightfully wet sound of your hand working lube and cum against his dick and the frantic moans of a man reaching a level of pleasure that verges just nicely on painful.

When he does cum, you let it splash against your palm once more and you notice how little he's able to provide you with. He's entirely empty, legs shaking but babbling how grateful he is for the way you touch him.

Now that he's spent, it feels like your turn to enjoy yourself while he watches and nothing sounds better than touching yourself with the hand that's covered in his cum.

[aquarelliwrites]

What Kind Of Woman Do You Take Me For?

SHIP: Charles Leclerc x Reader

SUMMARY: After a dinner date at your apartment, Charles is forced to sleep over as to not get caught up in a snowstorm.

CONTENT: Mention of alcohol, domestic fluff, you/yours pronouns with fem!reader, no use of Y/N.

1.1k

"Well, this was lovely."

Charles used his napkin to wipe the corner of his mouth. You leaned back in your chair, your elbow coming to rest on the backrest of the one next to you. A vague silence washed over the dining room of your apartment, both of you observing the snowfall outside.

The view out of the dining and living rooms of your apartment was spectacular, and half the reason you were paying such a ridiculous price for it - the sprawling cityscape and background of rolling Swiss Alps breathtaking on evenings like this.

Was it really even evening anymore? You had sat down for dinner four hours ago - really, the date had actually started in the early afternoon. He had come in bearing gifts, with the first snowflakes adorning his coat, hair, and eyelashes. Then, he spent the better part of a few hours helping with dinner.

If you could count his sitting pretty on the barstool, drinking wine, and distracting you with gossip the entire time helping. You had a good reason to keep him away from the stove, however - the man was many things, but a culinary expert he was not.

"Is there anything we forgot to talk about?" You joked, tearing your gaze away from the panoramic view to the, arguably, far better one across the table.

He, to his credit, did take a moment to consider. You liked the way he looked when he was deep in thought. "I... don't believe so. How long has it- oh, wow. Midnight already?" The shock on his face, like all of his other emotions, was visible as soon as he caught sight of the clock hanging in the living room behind you.

"Nearing it." The snow outside was bad now - Switzerland was used to snow, sure, but was Charles? At night? In that sports car you saw him drive here? "You should stay over."

"Yeah?" His smile was teasing while he picked at a few crumbs on the tablecloth. "Are you propositioning me? Is that what this is?"

You scoffed, rolling your eyes. "Don't be ridiculous-"

"I came all this way-"

"Charles-"

"-all for an elaborate booty call? Really? Thought you were better than that, amour." Combined, the twinkle in his eyes and the smirk tugging upwards at the corners of his lips made you want to jump across the table and do unholy things to him. Not that you’d readily admit it.

You gestured to your matching empty glasses and plates. "Well, technically, I’ve been wining and dining you. Not a booty call. Come on, what kind of woman do you take me for, Leclerc?"

He shrugged, now picking at the tablecloth itself.

Clearing your throat was more uncomfortable than you’d thought. "The guest room situation isn't- um. I've got my office in there."

"Right, yes."

"...And I have a queen bed." That you didn't know if you wanted to share with him. This was- what was this? The third date? He had said he wanted to take it slow, get to know you. This wasn't exactly planned.

"Oh."

Another silence fell over the room. You felt like you were drowning in it.

"You can take the bed. I just changed the sheets this morning," you offered.

"No, no, I couldn't take that from you."

"I insist."

"No-"

"You're a houseguest. Fae rules."

"What? Fae rules?" He sputtered in surprise.

"Yes." You were smiling smugly, and he pointed it out.

"It's not a problem, chat." The tips of his ears went a little red at you calling him 'cat', but you continued. "The sofa’s comfy. I made sure when I was buying it just in case my, how did you put it, ‘booty call’ could be comfortable."

An extended quiet passed by before he nodded. "Alright."

"Alright."

You cleaned up together - he washed dishes, you dried them; he offered a piece of gossip about the people in his life, you returned one about an office affair you nearly got caught up in; he gasped in disbelief, you nodded solemnly; he caged you against the counter when you were done, you reciprocated his kiss sweetly, slowly.

He tasted of alcohol and dessert, mostly, then of mint after you brushed your teeth together and stole a final kiss. And your pillow.

"Bonne nuit." You whispered against his lips.

"Bonne nuit, amour."

To your credit, you managed to get incredibly cozy on the couch - spare duvet, blankets, pillows galore. You allowed yourself the luxury of imagining him lying in your bed, daydreaming about the way you’d look there with him. You then spent a good quarter of an hour debating with yourself whether joining him there would be uncomfortable for both of you or not.

Oh, god. Had he seen your stuffed animals? The thought nagged at you as you drifted off.

A click of a door roused you from sleep. You couldn’t really tell what time it was in the dark, but the room being so dark and the snow still falling heavily suggested it hasn't been more than… what? Two hours?

"Amour?" He whispered from the doorway. You hummed, acknowledging his presence, but not exactly comprehending it yet.

"Wha's up?" The only word your half-asleep mind could really think of to describe him then is cute - hair a little messy, shirt a little askew, sweatpant cuffs riding up a little on his legs.

He didn't answer, instead stealing one of the top-most blankets covering you. Before you could protest, he moved - sort of clumsily, which prompted a snickering laugh from you - to lay down on top of you. After he got comfy, you were pressed into the couch - his legs tangling with yours, his arms enclosing around your waist under your shirt, his head resting on your chest.

A more conscious you would probably hesitate a little, and a more conscious he probably wouldn't  have done what he did. Alas, tired people do stupid things, and you embraced him back quickly. You helped him cover himself in the stolen blanket, and your hands carded through his hair a little while neither of you were asleep yet.

"Thank you." You heard him whisper, and you made a little noise of agreement. 

"Didn't know if you'd want to sleep together."

"Hah, I thought you didn't want it, amour?"

"With you? Don't be ridiculous. If I had more confidence, I'd be throwing myself all over the opportunity." Your finger twirled a longer strand of hair, and you got to enjoy the way his fingers were mind-numbingly warm drawing patterns on your waist.

This was miles better than any sleep you could have gotten on your own.

NOTE: these fics keep getting shorter and shorter but i'm not lying when I say everything that could have possibly gone wrong while writing this went wrong. I'm truly shocked and appalled.

Rivals to lovers Max fic is hopefully still on the way - alas i got too ambitious with it and now it's looking like it's going to be the longest thing i've ever written. not yet sure if i should be excited or worried?

Liked this? Check out my masterlist!

[copias-thrall]

Nothing nsfw, but how would Papa III be with a shy&adorable (but becomes more open and goofy after knowing someone better) type of female s/o? I know papa wouldn’t mind someone outgoing, but I’ve always felt that he would have a soft spot for the shy introverts and actually be drawn to them as well.

Hullo, sweet anon! You want fluff, you got it ( -_·)σσ

He would absolutely turn into that dumbass boy on the playground hanging upside down by his legs from the monkey bars to get his crush to notice him. And of course said crush WOULDN’T EVEN BE LOOKING AT HIM.

He’d noticed you around the Abbey—he knows all the attractive Siblings, but what made him really see you was watching you carry on with your friends. You were so reserved and stoic during mass, keeping your head down as you walked down the hallways—but put you in a group of your crew and suddenly you’d have this … spark.

At first it wasn’t even an effort to get into your habit—he’d just wanted to be the one to crack that layer of frost you radiate. He went about it all wrong, of course—he’s used to seducing Siblings who want to play and those who realize what he’s doing. You were just confused when he shored up with you as you had walked down another long hall in the Abbey. He’d waited for you to say something, but you’d just kept waiting for him to pass you.

“Come here often?” he’d tried finally.

Your head had snapped to him before you’d quickly lowered your eyes from his mismatched gaze.

“Um, me?” you’d squeaked.

The hall was practically empty.

“No, the Unholy Ghost.”

You’d wondered if you were that invisible that he’d never noticed you before.

“I mean, I live here? Your Unholiness,” you added.

His ghast had been so flabbered that he’d actually walked into a pillar. You’d felt such fremdschämen that you’d hurried on, hoping any ire he felt wouldn’t be transferred onto you.

Two days later he’d come out of nowhere to sit next to you in the quad—straddling the stone bench—making the Siblings around you immediately going quiet.

“Did it hurt when you fell?” he’d quipped.

You’d squinted at him, flustered and confused. “But … you’re the one that walked into that pillar?” 

You hadn’t even meant to be funny, but your friends had covered their mouths to stifle their laughter as Papa III gaped at you.

“I … um … I,” he’d stammered, his hand going to the unsubtle egg on his head. “Rude.”

You face had flushed, and you’d managed to squeak out an apology before making a hasty exit. Thoroughly embarrassed, you’d skipped mass the next day, only to be informed that he’d asked after you.

“I think he likes you,” one friend had said.

“Likes me? He only just noticed me 2 days ago.”

“��sitting in a tree,” another had singsonged. “F-U-C-K-I-N-G!”

“Shut your face!” you’d shrieked, shoving them in the face to shut them up.

None of you noticed Papa III out of his vestments looking on plaintively.

A few days later, the group of you had been joking around in the mess hall as you ate your lunches when all of a sudden the lights dimmed. Papa III was suddenly illuminated in the corner by a Ghoul with a flashlight. Another Ghoul had pressed play on a boombox he then held up. The opening riffs of “Cirice” had echoed in the mess hall.

The Siblings in the cafeteria had broken into an excited titter.

On cue, Papa III had held up an echo mic and had begun to sing in it.

He had strutted up and down the aisles, occasionally letting his unoccupied hand trail through a row of Siblings’ outstretched hands. When the chorus broke, he had jumped up on a table and pointed around the hall, as everyone had screamed wildly.

He’d jumped down to continue prowling around as he crooned into the toy. Once he’d started stalking the aisle as he crooned Can’t you see that you’re lost without me, the whole crowd thrummed with the anticipation on who’d be the recipient of Papa’s singular attention.

When he’d bent on a knee and thrust his hand in your direction, you’d done the only sensible thing and pushed your friend forward—this moment was all she ever goddamned talked about, and there was no way you wanted to be the focus of the entire congregation. There’d been a flicker of exasperation on his face, but quickly enough he was putting his heart into Ciricing the shit out of your friend.

After that, Papa had sauntered away to misuse another table top, and your friend had leaned over and said, “That was amazing, but you’re the dumbest bitch I’ve ever met.” (You found out much later that after that performance Papa III had been in such a sulk that one of his Ghouls had bitched at him to just be direct with you.) 

For days after that, he’d seemed to be glaring at you every time you caught his eyes. It had put you on edge enough that when he’d showed up at your room, you were sure you were about to be upbraided—perhaps even … kicked out of the Church? But he’d just sighed and smoothed his hair out of he face, his posture stiff.

“Would you like to have dinner with me?”

“Dinner?” you’d echoed.

“Yes, dinner. It’s a meal. You eat during it,” he mimed forking food into his mouth, “and sometimes there’s even conversation.” He opened and closed his hand a few times.

“Now?”

He’d blinked at you.

“It’s 2 o’clock.”

“I dunno. Don’t older people call ‘lunch’ ‘dinner’?”

His eyes had widened, and he’d mimed getting shot in the heart before stumbling backward

“Old people,” he’d sputtered. “Which old people?!”

“My grandma, I guess.”

“And how old is dear grandmama?!”

“Oh, um. Pushing 90?”

“Pushing 90—” He’d leaned forward, hands on hips. “You think Papa is pushing 90, do you?” 

“I, uh—”

“I am very youthful. Vibrant, even.”

“Er …”

He’d straightened his posture, lifting his chin.

“Dinner is at 6 sharp.”

He’d then turned on his heel and marched away.

You’d had the freakouts to end all freakouts then, and your roommate had come home to find you tearing through your closet.

“What’s your major malefaction?!”

“Papa invited me to dinner and ALL THESE HABITS ARE A LITTLE DIFFERENT!”

She’d shaken you by the shoulders. “ALL YOUR HABITS ARE EXACTLY THE SAME, AND WHY WOULD YOU WEAR A HABIT?!” Then she’d picked up your one formal dress from the pile and held it out. “For Lucifer’s sake, wear this!”

“It’s not a date!”

“OF COURSE IT’S A DATE, YOU COW—OMG.”

A Ghoul had shown up at 5 til to escort you. He’d given you a blatant once over, smirking, and you’d flushed. Your roommate had given you a shove and closed the door behind you. You’d been expecting to be led to Papa III’s private quarters, but instead the Ghoul took you to one of the balconies on the second floor.

There had been a table for two set up—one long candle on the table, and a myriad tealights across the balcony railing. Papa had been staring off into the quad, hands locked behind his back above his coattails.

“Your Unholiness,” hissed the Ghoul, and Papa III had turned. “Have fun with your … meal.” He’d given you another lascivious glance.

Papa III had hissed back and shooed him away. “Away with you foul beast.”

The Ghoul had only cackled as he’d slunk away. 

Papa hurried to pull out your chair. “Don’t mind him, he’s still feral—makes him excellent on guitar.”

Once the two of you were seated and Papa had removed the dish covers to reveal a dinner of PB&J’s with the grucifix stamped into them (“I made them myself”) you’d asked him why he’d invited you to dinner.

He’d taken your hand. “I like the cut of your jib.

“Uh …”

“I’d like to know you better. We talk and accomplish this, yes?”

The two of you had ended up talking all night, way after the tealights had burned out. Turned out, once Papa III got you away from big crowds, you were more open to participating in conversation. He’d used his charm and charisma to keep the conversation going—asking you questions about yourself when you’d flounder and cracking jokes to set your nerves at ease.

He’d walked you back to your room that early morning night, merely kissing your hand before taking his leave. But after that the two of you had many more nights of pleasant conversation, and soon enough you’d felt comfortable enough to joke with and tease him like you did your friends.

The real test came when Papa had joined you in the mess hall and he’d made a crack about you being Fort Knox. You’d responded by scooping the frosting off your cupcake and smashing it on his face. It had seemed like the whole hall had held its breath waiting for a Ghoul to drag you off—but he’d just burst out laughing, wiping the frosting off his face and trying to smear on your arm. He’d gotten it in your friend’s hair instead, which is when he’d said Oops and jumped up on the table yelling, “FOOD FIGHT!”

When Sister Imperator burst in demanding to know What the hell, Papa III had pointed at a Ghoul as all the Ghouls pointed at him.

“Seester! What’s that over there?” He’d pointed over her shoulder. She didn’t even flinch to look, but he’d just grabbed your hand and said, “Let’s make a break for it while she’s distracted.”

The two of you had run laughing out of the mess, through the echoing halls, and into a deep alcove. It was there—as he had threaded his fingers through your hair to get the peas out of it and you’d tried to clean the rest of the frosting off his nose—that the two of you had kissed for the first time.

He’s been quite enamored with you since. He’s learned his lesson about making you the focus in a crowd, but in private or amongst your friends, he feels free to turn his full wattage on you. He’s recognized your boundaries and your limits, fully understanding that just because you’ll make goofy monster voices with him in private doesn’t mean you’re comfortable doing so with the eyes of the congregation on you. (Well he doesn’t quite understand why you wouldn’t want to be everyone’s focus, but he respects that you feel that way.)

It’s been a real learning experience for him, but he’s found that he quite likes it—he never has to fight you to be the centre of attention in a battle of personalities and he gets a piece of you very few people get to see (it makes him feel special to have your trust like that).

Unfortunately, as one of his paramours, your days of being an anonymous Sibling are over, but Papa III tries his best to keep you under the radar. It totally goes against his instinct to flaunt you off for everyone to see, but—then again—it creates even more mystery, doesn’t it? (And he’s never been one to shy away from being dramatic.)

[chungledown-bimothy]

Trust Me: Chapter 3

Hello again! Here’s some plot progression, introduction of our favorite dramatic boy, and shameless moxiety coffee shop au to make up for the last chapter! <3

Chapter One Chapter Two AO3 Chapter 4

Warnings:  brief mentions of a dead body, wounds, and torture. light swearing

Word Count: 1604

Tag List: @spookyingarbageisland @ren-allen @ccecode @emo-sanders-sides-loving-unicorn @ilovemygaydad @bloodrops-blog @funsizedgremlin @raygelkitty @roxiefox23 @thomasthesandersengine

Virgil rolled over and groggily grabbed his phone, cursing the day he made his ringtone "Na Na Na" by My Chemical Romance. It was a bop, but absolutely unholy at… oh god. It was 3:12 am and his phone was ringing. He cleared his throat before picking up.

"Hullo?" He winced and prayed it wasn't an important call he started on such an embarrassing note.

"Mason, it's Chief Sanders. I know it's early, but we have a body. I need you at 25th and Lincoln ASAP. I'll keep everyone away from the scene, keep it clean for you." Well fuck.

"Thank you, sir. I'll be there soon."

Fifteen minutes later, he arrived at the scene. It would have been ten, but, even at 3 in the morning, parking in San Francisco was a nightmare. When he arrived, he saw that Sanders had kept his word; the scene was taped off, but other than that it was completely undisturbed. Not for lack of trying by the local media- he had no idea how those leeches knew to be there. Officers were trying to keep them out of earshot, but one voice called out to him, and stopped him dead in his tracks.

"Detective! I know you can't ignore someone as fabulous as I am; what happened? Whose body is that?" Ignoring the anxiety attack he could feel trying to break through his well-built defenses, he strode over to the reporter.

"What's your name, and who are you with?" Virgil demanded.

"Roman Prince, SFGate, at your service!"

"Here's the thing, Roman Prince, SFGate. There is nothing 'fabulous' about standing over a dead man's body, desperate for a tidbit of information you can spin into some fairy tale to get a byline. At my service, eh? Then get away from my crime scene and stop hovering like the vulture you crime journalists are. And if a word of this gets out, I will personally see that you don't write another word in this city." With a glare at the crowd of reporters, he turned on his heel and went to examine the scene.

Virgil had seen more dead bodies than he cared to count, but he'd never seen anything like this. Turning on his phone's voice recorder and putting gloves on, he began taking notes.

"Victim appears to be male, mid twenties. Shallowly buried in leaves from the shoulders down, possibly mimicking the parental act of tucking a child in to bed, or possibly indicating remorse. Bruising and lacerations consistent with the victim being punched in the face repeatedly. Clearing the leaves away reveals the vic wearing slacks and a white t-shirt. No socks or shoes. The shirt is clean; however, there are clearly deep wounds underneath the shirt. I will not disturb the shirt on scene.

Ligature marks on his wrists and ankles, and wounds up and down his arms. If I didn't know and better, I'd say someone took a giant cheese grater to his left arm in particular. Consistent with the torture theory, and it seems that this victim endured even more than the last one. Opening his mouth, there's a piece of paper. Red puzzle piece and 'fascist' on it." Virgil paused the recording and swore under his breath. As he went to resume, a tech handed him a piece of plastic. "The victim had ID on him- name of Kyle Ren, twenty three. Otherwise empty pockets- the killer left us this. He wanted us to know who the victim was- confirming that this is primarily about the victim, not the crime itself. I will withhold any more speculation until I have more information. This concludes my on-site analysis."

Putting away his phone, he briefly discussed evidence collection logistics with the tech team before leaving the scene, planning to grab coffee on his way back to the station to review the file from the last body. His anxiety had other ideas, however. As soon as he got into his car, he started shaking and got lost in memories.

"Hello? I know you've got, like, that whole 'loner' vibe going on, but not only am I your partner, we both know that I am far too fabulous to ignore."

It was Virgil's first week at the BAU; the culmination of years of busting his ass to prove everyone wrong. It's just his luck that the man who sauntered into the office like he owned the place, wearing a leather jacket and aviators with a Starbucks tea in his hands, was his partner.

"The name's Remy, boo. Remy Wake." Taking a deep breath, Virgil turned around.

"Virgil Mason. Not your 'boo'."

"Oh my god. I did not come here to be attacked."

"Just to get on my nerves, then?"

"You are, like, literally the rudest. I cannot work like this."

"That makes two of us, babe." Virgil sneered.

"Mason! Wake! My office. NOW." Their supervisor, Aaron Hodge, called from across the room. They shuffled in, embarrassed, and took a seat when Hodge indicated for them to.

"You are both incredibly bright young men. I'm sure I don't need to recount why I called you in here. What I do need is for you two to sort out your issues. I have never seen two agents more suited to be partners than you two. Wake, you have outstanding interpersonal skills, but your attention to detail and ability to read between the lines is less than ideal. Mason, you more than make up for your lack of people skills with an uncanny knack for seeing through lies and finding connections no one else sees. I firmly believe that the two of you can be the best pair of agents the BAU has ever seen, should you put in some work outside of your cases. Do you understand?" They both nodded, and he dismissed them.

"Hey, uh, Remy, I'm sorry about my attitude earlier. I, uh, I'm kind of terrified, to be honest, and lashed out- no friends means no one to disappoint."

"I get that. I came at you with my armor up too, girl. Let's squish the beef and start over?"

"Sounds great, boo." With a wink and an eye roll, respectively, Virgil and Remy went to get coffee and better acquainted.

-

Virgil emerged from the memory still in his car. He checked his phone; it was 4:55. He'd been out of it for about 45 minutes. Swearing, he turned on the car and headed to the coffee shop near the precinct. He'd heard it was amazing, but the owner had been having some sort of family crisis, so it had been closed since a couple of weeks before Virgil arrived in the area. It opened back up the previous day, and it was all anyone at the station was talking about.

Miraculously, he found a spot right in front of We Hart Coffee.

"Good morning! Welcome in!" Virgil cringed at the too-peppy voice as he walked up to the counter to see that the source of the voice was an attractive man in his late twenties, by Virgil's estimation, with brown eyes and curly brown hair.

"Morning. Can I get a large Americano?"

"Sure thing! Wait, I think I know you. You moved into an apartment complex in the Outer Sunset about a month ago, right?" Virgil's senses went on high alert. He looked closely at the man, trying to place him and failing.

"More like three weeks, but yes. Have we met?"

"I thought so! I live next door to you! I'm so sorry I couldn't say a proper hello when you moved in; my mother died, so I went to be with my brother for a few weeks. My name is Patton, and I own this place!" Virgil relaxed, no longer concerned. Something about Patton made him feel safe, like he could trust him, a feeling he hadn't felt in a very long time.

"I'm so sorry for your loss, and glad you weren't alone to grieve. I'm Virgil. Nice to meet you." He stuck out his hand, which Patton excitedly shook.

"Oh my, I should start your drink. I get so excited about meeting new people, I completely spaced. I'm so sorry!"

"Hey, no worries. How much do I owe you?"

"Absolutely nothing. It's on the house- consider it a 'welcome to the complex' gift."

"You really don't have to."

"I want to. It's important that where you live feels like home, not just a place you sleep and keep your stuff."

"Okay, then. Thank you." Virgil acquiesced, putting a ten dollar bill in the tip jar when Patton turned around to make his drink.

"I hope this isn't too forward of me, but… I wrote my number on your cup. Maybe we could get dinner or something sometime?"

"Oh, I, um, thanks. Maybe?"

"Oh no I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable. I don't even know if you are attracted to men at all! I'm so sorry, Virgil."

"No, no, it's not that. I'm definitely gay. I just… am awkward, and I've got a lot of stuff going on right now. But, uh, I really appreciate it, and I'll text you, if that's okay?"

"Whatever makes you comfortable. The last thing I want is for you to feel in any way pressured or obligated or anything."

"Thank you, Patton. I've gotta get going, but since we're neighbors, I guess I'll see you around?"

"For sure! Have an excellent day, Virgil!"

"You too." With that, Virgil headed out the door, added Patton's number to his phone, and left to meet with the coroner about the new body.

[archeron-queens-blog]

Wings and Mist

Night Vibrance | part II 

Chapter 1

Rhysand’s sister, Sofiya, and her story, told from my perspective and what I wish happened both while she was alive and an alternative ending where her mother and her don’t die. This summary was confusing, I’m sorry,  I hope you understood it though

If you like this new project of mine, leave a little like, reblog and tell me what you thought of it!! As usual, if you wish to be tagged in later chapters, message me or comment!

Writing masterlist

Sofiya aesthetic

Night Vibrance pt1

Sofiya let her weapons’ belt clank to the floor, unbraiding her hair and deftly going through the motions of getting into her bath. More often than not, she had to get through her day in a permanent state of numbness, just so the camp around her didn’t kill her.

Every single day since her fourteenth birthday she had lived in an Illyrian War Camp, and since then she had to deal with being told she wasn’t good enough, just because she was a female. Just because she was a half-breed. But she had to succeed. If only, for all the other females before her, her mother included, whose wings had been viciously clipped at their first bleeding, who had never been taught how to protect themselves, who had never been able to taste the wind on their faces. She was the High Lord’s daughter and the camp Lord was too scared to not let her train, so she had to use that power and give them the freedom they deserved. Not that she wasn’t doing it for herself, she was ambitious and proud, and she wanted to be the first female Illyrian warrior, the first female to complete the Rite. And she wanted above all to prove all those bastards wrong.

She sat in her tub for much longer than needed, it was one of the small luxuries she was allowed, and she fully intended to make the most of it. After an unholy amount of time, she summoned back her wings and gently rubbed them with a soft washcloth and dried up quickly. She got dressed and pondered reading a book, but her sore muscles and dropping eyelids quickly made her decide otherwise.

The cauldron, however, didn’t think to reward her with a good night’s sleep. At the exact time she was falling asleep, a knock sounded from her window. Her training had her up and at the window in a split second.

“What the hell,” she sighed, opening her window. Marcus hovered just in front of her windows, still clad in his training leathers. “What do you think you’re doing? My mum will see you, get the hell out of here, right now!”

“I just wanted to see if you were alright, I saw you leaving earlier,” he said leaning on her windowsill. “Are you seriously not going to invite me in? What sort of education did they give you in the palace?”

“Marcus. Leave,” she said pinching the bridge of her nose. “Seriously, I’m okay, just go away.”

“It’s okay, no one will see us, don’t worry. Are you alright or not?” She knew this would last a while, he wasn’t easily moved when he didn’t think she wasn’t okay so she simply secured a shield all around her room and pulled him into her room.

“Just go take a bath, I’m not having you getting my room all dirty.” “See? Deep down, you actually love me,” he told her with a laugh, stripping down with no shame for his own nudity before her. “What happened?” he asked after a while.

“What do you mean,” she drawled from her bed, where she was reading her book, which pretty much translated to her pointedly ignoring a naked, heavily muscled Illyrian warrior bathing in her chambers.

“Sacha, you left extremely upset, those assholes may not see it, but I sure did,” he said appearing, buck naked, in her doorway.

“Just the usual. I only have to deal with them for two more months, I don’t mind it, Marcus,” she said while he appeared, clean shaved and wearing only a towel. “Why do you insist on shaving at night? The stubble doesn’t make you look more charming,” it did, though, she loved his little stubble more than she would ever admit to anyone.

“It always worked on you, dearest Lady,” he sat down next to her and tried to peer into her book, but she hid it out of his view before he could. “Am I supposed to just sleep here?”

“They already call me a slut, it’s not as though it’ll change anything. Besides, you were the one who said no one would know,” she said with a smirk.

“The second you pass the Rite, I’ll help you rip them all to shreds,” he said running his fingers through her damp hair. “Tomorrow I’ll leave early, no one will see me. If you don’t mind me staying here, that is.”

“Of course I don’t, silly,” she drawled through her sleepiness. “How was your day?”

“It was great, sweetheart. Don’t worry about it, let’s go to bed,” he pulled her to his side, and she suddenly remembered that he was clad simply in one of her towels. She felt like a lovesick child with a new crush. It was disgusting.

“Don’t work tomorrow, let’s sleep,” she said suddenly. Mother, what was she doing? She had to visit her family in Velaris tomorrow.

“You have to train for the Rite, Sacha,” he said with a small laugh at her sleepiness.

“I’m visiting my family, tomorrow, and you can just say you had some recognition work to do.”

“Cloak me, then, I’ll leave a note to Lord Devlon,” and with this he got back up again, still wearing nothing but the towel and went out the window while she placed an invisibility shield around him. Being part High Fae really had its privileges sometimes.

***

Sacha woke up to the soft light of dawn over the steppes, Marcus’s arm draped over her waist and his other hand drawing soft circles over her shoulder.

“What do you think you’re doing?” she drawled.

“Me? I was trying not to wake you up.”

“That was a very failed attempt, then,” she said.

“Shut up, princess,” he shoved her aside, rubbing a hand over his sleepy eyes. “Weren’t you visiting your family today?” “Yeah, I’ll have to go there today,” she said into her pillow as she turned away from the sunlight and from the day in general.

“Won’t your mum come looking for you? Shouldn’t you, maybe, start getting ready?” he said smugly.

“Just shut up, Marcus,” she answered.

“Tell you what, you go downstairs, get breakfast, tell your mum you’ll be late and I’ll escort you home,” he whispered into her matted hair.

“You go, I sleep.”

“Do you really wish my death so much,” he says while picking her up in his arms and making her stand up on her own, throwing her out the room. “Good luck,” is the last thing she hears before he slams the door in her face. Sofiya pads into the kitchen, her mother already wearing a simple classy gown while she eats her breakfast.

“Good morning, sweetie,” her mother said between sips of tea. “I would tell Marcus he can’t expect to leave your shield in the middle of the night to come get water and not expect his scent to be all over the place if I were you.”

“Excuse me?”

“Don’t play dumb with me, it doesn’t suit you,” her mother laughed her bright, clear laugh. “He’s a good male, darling, I’m happy for you.”

“What? No, nonono, we’re friends, mum, that’s it. Cauldron, I haven’t had enough sleep to deal with this.” “Don’t be so overly dramatic. I’m teasing you, Sacha, calm down. We could use an escort, though, how trustworthy would you say he is?”

“To the mountain? He’s perfect for the job. To Velaris? Don’t even think about it,” Sofy answered while sipping her tea, steeped as strongly as she could.

“Why not? Are you inviting random strangers into your bed?” “No, I just don’t want to burden him like that. Cauldron, do I look stupid? I know my positions means I have to be more careful than most.” “He’s your father’s soldier, Sacha, and a grown male, I’m sure he can handle pressure,” her mother said passing her a tray of food. “Give him this, and both of you get dressed, he’s our escort for today.”

“If the Lady of the Night Court wills it, it will be done,” she bowed mockingly and left to her mother’s laugh.

***

“Am I to know where I’m escorting you to or am I just to go with you blindly?” Marcus asked as he strapped his knives to his belt and his thighs.

“Don’t know, ask the Lady, it’s not exactly my call. If it were, you would be down there training younglings.,” Sofiya answered, drumming her fingers on her teacup.

“And why is that,” he said, joining her near the window and combing her hair down her back.

“We’ll talk about it afterward, we’re late now, come on,” his fingers lingered on her hair but slowly he let her go, following her down the stairs.

[To be continued]

[jjkookie07]

Always and Forever- Chapter 2

Jungkook x Reader ( Mayze) warlock x vampire AU

genre: Angst x Fluff x Smut

Preview / Chapter 1 / Chapter 3

July 28th 2017 

Looking at him Mayze felt her knees go weak. She was bewitched by his strong manly appearance. From his prominent jaw-line, his big dark brown eyes, his perfectly shaped lips and the mole underneath, to his tall figure, his wide shoulders, he was perfect.

"Hello there hot and sexy warlock. I would love to mess with you a little bit but I am married" She said leaning against her chair. She never acted this bold around a man but just the look of him made her heart beat again. Maybe he could be what she was looking for.

"And here's the first reason to want him dead." Hoseok mumbled enough for Jimin to hear.

"Well witch, my first advice for you is :don't get involved in family problems" Jimin held out his hand and Jungkook gladly shook it. "I am not here to find troubles." He smiled, his gaze turning towards Mayze that was bitting her lower lip. He couldn't deny, he felt it too. It's like the word stopped and he was lost in her eyes. She was indeed a very beautiful creature, too bad she was already taken. Perhaps he was too late.

"I must be the prettiest problem and the sexiest trouble then" She said standing up from her seat. "I am going to bring the food then." She walked to the kitchen with Hoseok close behind her.

"Are you seriously going to make me look like a stupid vampire in front of a stupid witch?" He whisper -yelled at her.

"I didn't do anything wrong and he is a warlock" She defended Jungkook.

"You must be kidding me. I did not take you for that kind of bitch that raises her tail at every horny dog that passes by." he fired back.

"I did not insult you okay? Be careful what are you saying. It's not my fault you are this insecure." She took the plate that her and Jimin arranged for the appetizers ready to walk to the living room.

"You do make me feel insecure though." He grabbed the plate from her hands and placed it on the counter.

"Can we discuss this at home? You had too many glasses of wine." She grabbed the plate and walked inside the dining room while smiling sweetly.

The dinner finished without any big incidents even if Hoseok was looking at Jungkook with fire in his eyes, almost ready to murder him. He knew he wasn't going to solve the situation between him and Mayze. He lost her the moment she looked at the warlock. He felt his heart clench inside his chest. For a year he thought she was his.

How pathetic she thought. How can you see a person for one hour and feel like he is already part of you? How could he walk through those doors with his Greek god like figure and turn her world upside down? Was it even possible? If so this was most horrible joke the universe could play on her. Meeting him now? Why now? She will never be able to break the spell that links her with Hoseok and also she won't be able to cheat on him. Either way this sucked. Why was she creating so many scenarios in her head? What if he felt nothing? But what if he did?

Mayze started turning and tossing around on her side of the bed, her back facing Hoseok that she knew, was wide awake.

"Do you know him?" His voice suddenly cut through the tick silence.

"Whom? Jungkook?" She asked trying to avoid the subject as much as she could.

"Yes, him. You seemed very interested in him."

"No..I don't" she murmured wanting to add a but I want to.

For the next months until winter she spent a large amount of time in Jungkook's house not as lovers but as friends. The tension was visible but neither of them wanted to address the matter. He wanted her to be his and he knew she felt the same but there are many obstacles they need to overcome. He wanted to be with her in the morning when they go pick up plants from the forest. She was still annoyed by bugs but that's not what she feared the most. She was afraid she might lose another shoe in the mud.

He wanted to be with her in the evening when he would squeeze some of his blood in a cup for her. The image of her lips on someone else's body was infuriating, even if it was for nourishment purposes. At first she did not want to accept it but after a week she stared coming with packed lunch for him in exchange for his blood.

He wanted to be with her at night when the moon shines through her blonde hair making her look Celeste. She was too pure for this world.

During all this time, he never got to touch something else more than her hand. She was respecting Hoseok and he was respecting her choice. He always wanted to ask if she wanted to break the spell but he was too afraid she might get mad.

December 27th 2017 

"For awhile I taped soap operas and watched them at night when I thought I might be forgetting what it was like to be human. After a while I stopped, because from the examples I saw on those shows, forgetting humanity was a good thing."His eyes were still like caves with ghosts dwelling in their depths my throat dried at this perfect image of his.

“When I've meet you I was scared and broken beyond repair. And there is none to put the blame on but myself. I am the master of my own misery. Then I found you and you accepted me for who I was and you put up with my constant whining and my constant need of taking my anger out on someone. Hobi, not one man in a million would have allowed me the time without speaking now that I am thinking he never let me be me. I opened my mind to you, let my guard down completely, and relaxed. "His silence washed over me. I stood, closed my eyes, breathed out the relief that was too profound for words.

I sat on his lap and gently enveloped him in a tight hug.

" You are my beginning . I never thought I would taste love again, but now thinking how I feel about you, was it really love what I felt for him?" At the same time she couldn't help but wonder if it was love what she felt for Hoseok too. She did love him in a way but not romantically. Not that type of love that was making her heart jump just by looking at him. She knew she has been selfish until now but letting him go to approach another man wasn't that selfish too? No. She wasn't going to cheat on him.

"I need to go out for some fresh air." He whispered and slowly pushed her up from his lap. He opened the door and disappeared into the night leaving her there with her thoughts. She was feeling her chest cave in, it was as if a piece of her being was ripped off her body.

 December 28th 2017 

Jungkook took the sacramental chalice, and stretching forth his bare arm, cried in a loud voice, "Tui gratia Iovis gratia sit cures.“ He then took the snake and cut it open moving his bloody finger across the child's forehead. Then replacing the sacred vessel on the altar, he drew, one by one, from different parts of his body, from his knotted hair, from his bosom, from beneath his nails, the unholy things which he cast into it just to bring him back to life. Mayze was watching fascinated not daring to blink in order not to lose the magic. The child started throwing up water and he opened his eyes. " You saved him" She breathed and walked closer to Jungkook, placing a hand on his shoulder. "He was lucky that I was around. Can you please take him home?" She hugged the child close to her chest and in a second she was next to his bed, laying him down. While Mayze was gone, taking the child back home, Jungkook cleaned up the mess from the early ritual and then he went to take a quick shower. As she was coming back to Jungkook's she stopped to look over her shoulder. Someone was watching her.  She slowly closed the door behind her only to see the house empty. " Jungkook!?" She called him but there was no reply. "Where are you?" She moved her hair away from her ear and heard the water running. Perhaps he was taking a shower but, why wasn't he replying? That was strange. After a few minutes he heard Mayze calling him, actually her voice brought him back from his deep thoughts. She opened the bathroom's door to be welcomed by a naked Jungkook trying to pull the towel around his waist. " Geez, Mayze can I have a little privacy? " He laughed as he felt his cheeks getting hotter and hotter. She had her mouth open and her pale skin was now showing some redness in the apples of the cheeks she was just staring at him unable to take her eyes away from the scene. He had such a good body. He wasn't skinny but he wasn’t fat either , his muscles were defined on his arms, legs, stomach. He was perfect. Her eyes followed a drop of water making its way from his hair down to his abs and dying on the white towel. " I am sorry" Was all she said then vanished leaving a trail of dust behind her. That was really embarrassing and she needed some fresh air before her mind would push her to do something unholy.

Jungkook went to his bedroom and put some clothes on him before writing down something on a piece of paper. He fold the paper in his hands and as he spoke a few Latin word the paper burnt to ashes and disappeared. Mayze was sitting on a bench close to Jungkook's place and all she was thinking was him. How could a human mean so much to her ? She wanted to go home knowing that her father was waiting her and he will scold her again for being late. And there was the irony, Namjoon was still treating her as a little girl when in fact she could look after herself better than anyone else. But in that moment a piece of paper appeared in her hands. She unfolded it carefully and at first smiled at the written words: "You could have at least said bye. I'm not the first man you saw naked, so don't be so shy. I would be thrilled if you would come back and spend the rest of night with me. - sexy and hot Jungkook"  After she read the message, a sharp noise startled her . Again someone was watching her, but before she could do something , the man vanished in the dark. That was creepy. She stood up and walked towards Jungkook’s old house.

"I want to murder him in his sleep, Ah, no, I want to murder him when he’s awake so he can see the joy on my face when I do it. How dare he ask me to sleep with him?!" She mumbled as she tore to pieces the sheet of paper. She opened his door almost ripping it apart.

" Wow, that was a good entrance" He smirked as he expected her to come. " How dare you ask for me to sleep with you?" she pushed his chest but he wouldn't move. He just grabbed her wrists and pulled her close his nose almost touching her forehead . How the hell was he so strong, she was a vampire and he was a mortal. Their faces inches away as he leaned closer, his eyes were fixed on her pouty lips. " I didn't mean it that way. Haven't you ever just slept next to a friend?" He spoke, each one of his words stabbing her in the heart. Friends? That was all she was to him? She tried to pull her hands away, her eyes were wide and she was fighting hard not to cry. Never in her existence cried because of a male. "Let me go!" her voice cracked ,tears running down her rosy cheeks . " It's all we can be since you are married" He said as he let go of her hands only to hold her face and kiss away her tears. The intimate gesture made her stomach turn and her heart beat faster then when she was a human. Mayze saw how distracted he was trying to control his actions and took the opportunity to pull away. Her hand reached on the table and threw the first thing she found at him. " Abfugio!" She yelled at him full of anger, her breathing becoming irregular not from the physical effort but because he had that effect on her. He was breathtakingly beautiful when he was not acting like an ass, like now for example.

His face turned from shocked to amused hearing her words and let out a loud laugh but somehow his heart was beating so fast he could feel it in his neck. " I am not Harry Potter". He walked closer to her and wrapped his arms around her tightly , he pushed her head against his shoulder his fingers tangling in her soft blonde hair. "Shhhh. I am sorry". That was the first time their bodies properly touched but it didn't feel alien at all. She loved it and he just wanted to bring her closer.