#Keep it Strange Santo

[delfts-purple]

Santo llesonians can't drive 7/? - El misil 🚀

[lastoneoutofsantoileso]

Hi! I'm a recently returned veteran RPer looking for new friends and RP opportunities! I have 10 years of RP experience on tumblr and elsewhere!

Both mun and muse are over 18.

Please feel free to dm any inquiries!

Thank you for your time!

[mystrangesanto]

Feels right to start this way. Welcome to the blog!

[s1ckh1mb0]

Eren is a geek lover. He absolutely is enamored with you. Watching your lips with every word you spoke. The way you got excited telling him about every single new detail of the things you got interested in. Eren worked hard as a famous rnb singer, long days in the studio trying to perfect his songs. Then having to perform when he literally had the WORST anxiety known to man. It always felt like someone needed him and was on his ass about something.

But he did it all for you. For moment like this were he could come home and listen to you tell him. About the things you’ve watched in your huge list of video essays that you had in a playlist on YouTube. How you lit up telling him different facts from how the dating game killer had a coworker that also happened to be a serial killer and he didn’t know to the conspiracy theory of the 27 club, no matter what you said it always made you so happy and seeing you all giddy and stimming while you talked to him made him so content with his life.

…and his dick very hard

“I know cotards syndrome, Koro, Diogenes, fregoli, hypochondria, pica, capgras, boanthropy, apotenmophilia, kulver bulcy, ekbom, erotomania, Stendhal. Pics is like one of the more well known. You know that show my strange addiction that we watch together? Yeah so like those people who eat the random shit like the lady who ate rocks- omg that reminds me!”

Erens ass was not listening one bit. He was watching you, watching your body. You guys had been apart for a little over a month so could do a very short tour in another country and he was sick as fuck that he couldn’t bring you. Everyone knew it too. His attitude fucking sucked that trip. He was antsy, his anxiety was through the roof, he snapped at everyone, overall he fucking hated it. But now, sitting here with you he finally felt at peace.

You were sitting on his lap, yapping his ear off. His eyes couldn’t help but wander to your legs which lead him to notice you were wearing his boxers. The way your thick thighs filled them out compared to his own, he couldn’t resist grabbing them. Grabbing them led to groping them, which lead to him sneaking his hands under the boxer. This caught you off guard and stopped your sudden rant with a small gasp. He chuckled and slipped two fingers in his mouth covering them in his saliva before slipping them back under the boxers.

“Cmon baby, keeping telling me about the little videos.”

He had to have been joking. No way was he just gonna pretend he wasn’t teasing you. Like his finger wasn’t circling around your aching hole.

“Go on I’m waiting baby. Keeping telling me bout what you learned.”

As much as you wanted to roll your eyes you knew it would get you no where. This wasn’t a new thing, eren was always so needy. It was always worse after a tour. Even if it had only been a relatively short one.

“Okay well like I was saying, erotomania is something that a lot of celebrity stalkers have. Especially kpop ones. It’s when someone genuinely believes they’re in a relationship with a celebrity. Remember that girl that literally would follow you to the airport? That crazy bitch probably had it.”

Eren couldn’t help but bite his lip as he listened to you go on. God you looked so fucking good. Your hair looked so good. He was so glad he got you your own personal stylist so you never had to worry about needing to go to a shop or someone else’s house. You smelled so good too. That vanilla body oil you used was just fucking irresistible. He didn’t know whether he liked that one or the strawberry poundcake one more. Either way it only made him want you more.

He slowly slid a finger inside you, watching your face contort as you tried to keep your composure. A deep chuckle erupted from his throat. He missed seeing your face. Facetime wasn’t enough. Having to sneak off to the bathroom to jerk off to pictures and homemade pornos wasn’t enough for him. He needed to see you. To feel you. He slid his free hand up your shirt, groping your chest as he thrusted finger in out and of you.

“R-ren, fuck. Cmon baby, how am i supposed to talk while you’re doing this.”

Your whines only made eren smile as he thrusted a second finger inside you. He watched you as you threw your head back while crying out. He was enjoying every second of teasing you. You were so impatient and he knew it. That’s why he catered to every need you had. You hated having to wait and tended to be bratty when you did. So he made everything about you. Whatever you wanted you had. But this time he needed to be selfish. He wanted to watch you come undone first. And that’s exactly what we’re doing.

Your tight grip on his shoulders told him everything. Your nails were digging deep into his skin as you pushed back against his fingers. You didn’t want to admit it but you missed Ren so much. Your fingers and toys didn’t compare to what he could do. How he could prolong your orgasm by teasing you. He could feel you leaking all over his thigh, his boxers now all sticky along with his thigh. He slowly slid his fingers out of you causing you whine.

He didn’t feel bad at all. It was about him this time. He gripped your hips dragging you along his thigh, making it even more of a mess. You hid your face out of embarrassment. It was too much at how he could make you a whiny mess. No other man could do this to you but him.

You couldn’t help the small noises that fell past your lips as you grinded against his thigh. Eren shivered feeling your warm breath against the side of his neck. The way you tugged at his hair he knew you were close. He could read your body like a damn book.

“Cmon baby, almost there. Let me see you.”

“F-fuck ren, I cant.”

Eren wasn’t having that at all. You couldn’t what? You were gonna disobey him? No chance in hell. He gripped your jaw forcing you to look at him

“You telling me no baby? I could have sworn I said I wanted to see your face. I’ve been gone for a long time and you think your whining is gonna stop me?”

You loved moment like this when Eren suddenly got serious. He was…well he was very off Standish which came off to mean as others. But he babied you. The moment you told him no thought after he told you to do something? It was like a switch flipped in him. His tight grip on your face was only turning you on more which made you rut against his leg faster.

“You’re gonna be good aren’t you baby? Gonna cum for me like a good little whore?”

You eagerly nodded as you bit your lip. You could only cry out his name as you came all over his thigh, making a mess in his boxers. Eren kept his grip on your face to make sure you maintained eye contact the entire time. A smirk creeping on his face as you came.

“There you go baby, let’s go get you cleaned up..”

———————————————————————

@merakidoll Eren fic just like I promised🫶🏽

———————————————————————

Based of a conversation with my boyfriend where I literally was going on about mental illness during my rant about the many video essays I watch

[becauseplot]

Hi hello more thoughts about this post-osnf au. I should come up with an official name or tag for this lmfao.

A couple nights out of the hospital, settled in Liz's guest room, is when Thiago starts having dreams of being lost in the Symbol again, waking up scared and disoriented and confused. The thing is, he never calls out to anyone while in the middle of his panic because he simply doesn't think to (he knows nothing but the Symbol, where is the Symbol, where is the Symbol...), so by the time he finally thinks of reaching out to Liz---she keeps her phone on her bedside with certain contacts on ringer at night---or texting his friends, he's je's already mostly calmed down and feeling like himself again. That doesn't mean he isn't shaken by it though, and he rarely ever sleeps after waking up like that.

Telling the others that he's having these dreams (Nightmares? Visions? Oh god, he hopes not visions...) is probably the smart thing. But he also doesn't want to freak them out considering that Santo Berço should be, is, dead in the ground and he knows hoe shaken up they were by him taking that Symbol. Fuck, he was shaken too. More than shaken. Admitting that the Symbol still comes for him in his sleep is just...it's terrifying to consider what that means.

He's sure they're just dreams. He's had nightmares---still has nightmares---of his first mission, so only makes sense that the second one would show up too. It's just fresh in his mind. In a week or two, they'll start to taper off.

They do not taper off.

They don't seem to get substantially worse, no, but they certainly don't seem to get much better. Reactions upon waking range from being disoriented for a couple seconds to full blown disconnections from his body and his memory for god knows how long as he struggles to find comfort in surroundings that are entirely strange and alien to him.

He figures out a way to cope, though. He sleeps with a lamp on low light (and a towel lining the bottom of the door to keep Liz from noticing in case she wakes up before him and passes by his room) and writing the following in dark pen on his inner forearm every night before he goes to bed: "My name is Thiago Fritz. I live in São Paulo. My friends are Liz, Cesar, Joui, and Arthur. Liz sleeps in the room upstairs. The Symbol is gone. I am home and I am safe." He scrubs it off every morning. Eventually he cuts the sleeve off an old white workout shirt and writes the reminder on the elastic, skin-tight sleeve so he can simply slip it on before bed.

Does it work? A bit. Sometimes his disorientation gets so bad that the shapes of the letters are just that, shapes, but once his brain can work enough to recognize the shapes for letters and read, it gets much easier from there. He draws some spirals and swirls on the sleeve in the hopes of drawing his attention to it more whenever he's freaking out.

In any case, he's coping, he's got this. Sure, he still doesn't sleep well (or at all) after waking up from the dreams, so he's tired all the time, but a little sleepiness can be remedied with naps. He's injured and middle aged now, people can't get on his case if he wants some shut eye in the afternoon.

The others notice his perpetual exhaustion. Of course they do. He tells them "nightmares" and doesn't elaborate. Liz tells him that he's welcome to wake her if he's having a rough time, and Thiago just tells her she's welcome to do the same. Easy dodge.

[magentalightstudios]

Strange Darling Trailer 2024 | Official Trailer | In Theaters Aug 23rd

Get ready for the most gripping horror thriller of 2024! Watch the Strange Darling Trailer 2024, the official trailer for a movie that will keep you on the edge of your seat. Starring Willa Fitzgerald and Kyle Gallner, this film dives into a twisted one-night stand that spirals into a serial killer’s vicious murder spree. Directed by JT Mollner, with stunning cinematography by Giovanni Ribisi, this movie is a must-see for horror-thriller enthusiasts.

"The cleverest thriller of its kind" - Variety

Storyline: Nothing is what it seems when a twisted one-night stand spirals into a serial killer’s vicious murder spree.

Cast:

Willa Fitzgerald as the Lady

Kyle Gallner as the Demon

Giovanni Ribisi as Art Pallone

Barbara Hershey

Ed Begley Jr.

Madisen Beaty

Bianca Santos

Steven Michael Quezada

Strange Darling premieres in theaters on August 23, 2024. From the producer of Barbarian & Late Night with the Devil, this is one horror thriller you won't want to miss.

[helltownohiohq]

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐄𝐑 𝐒𝐎𝐋𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐂𝐄 — 𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘵𝘸𝘰

𝚑𝚎𝚕𝚕𝚝𝚘𝚠𝚗𝚑𝚚𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚗𝚝

the festival had been nothing short of odd, filled with questionable party favors, strange music, and even more peculiar company. you've made yourself at home with it, at least. whether it be due to finding some actual semblance of enjoyment, or from just wanting to see it through since you came all the way out here anyways. you keep checking the time, and slowly — it was moving. second by second, minute by minute, hour by hour. before you knew it, the sun was at its highest at 8:16pm. you notice, like shadows slipping through the night, that the masked hosts have circled around the outskirts of the grounds. how many of them were there ??

they formed a barrier, a wall that could not be broken. no one could leave without pushing past them, and with the way their masks were gleaming with scarlet in the evening summer sun . . . any temptation to try were quickly snuffed. everyone's attention was drawn to the bonfire in the center of the festival that has been roaring since the moment everyone arrived, its flames never dying, fuel in the form of wood, sticks, and planks always being added by folks of all walks of life.

you hear the beat of a drum, from one of the masked musicians, a steady and pulse-resembling beat like that of a large beast's heart. it's loud, it's all-consuming, you feel it in your feet through the earth below you all the way up to your skull. there's some hushed whispers, some quiet murmurs. perhaps this will just be a prayer of some sort and then you could all go home— the invitation did mention there would be praying.

from behind the tents that had been pitched in the back comes a figure, and she is walking with some odd and peculiar wooden stilts on her hands. like some kind of animal. the mask she adorns is slightly different than those of the festival-hands, a white one with two sets of large antlers stretching to the heavens, and a closer look reveals it has two faces, with what appears to be smeared handprints ornamenting its front.

on these stilts, she circles the fire, beginning to mutter some kind of prayer as she does so. the festival hands echo her words but . . . you do not recognize the language they speak. their prayers grow louder, and louder, and suddenly the figure stops, as does the chanting.

❛ welcome to the 𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐄𝐑 𝐒𝐎𝐋𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐂𝐄, my divinians. . . ❜

her voice, despite its thunderous volume, is a melodic song carrying on the breeze as it brushes through the forest. no one speaks as she silences them with her presence, still on her stilts, surveying the crowd that has now gone entirely silent.

❛ by the acceptance of our invitation, of our gifts, of our offerings and hospitality . . . we officially welcome you into our ceremony. a ceremony of honor. of thanks. of the acknowledgement in the change in equinox and the birthing season of our divine. these coming months, the kin of our saviors will walk these grounds among us . . . and we wish to give them a warm welcome by cleansing this land for their arrival, and purging it of its sin. ❜

you notice now that masked festival-hands were bringing in these . . . sculptures. they look like wicked scarecrows, recreations of familiar figures you see every so often within the town but . . . not quite. there are three of them, with names carved into their faces; SAMSON HERNANDEZ, RICHARD ORTESKY, and MIGUEL SANTOS DE OLIVEIRA.

before you can process what is happening, before you can make out the fine details of the sculptures, they are being tossed in the fire. the prayer amongst the festival hands has resumed, and they seem to be inching closer and closer . . . closing in, entrapping everyone in a tight herd by the fire that now roared louder as it devoured the sculptures it had been given.

❛ the divine demands to be fed, it demands sacrifice. . . for all we ask of it, it only requests that we keep these woods and this earth it walks upon clean. . . ❜

some of the festival-hands words begin to topple over themselves, growing more passionate, some of them swaying with the heartbeat of the drum and the melodic coo of their prayers.

❛ the divine will save us all . . . and bring back the seven who were stolen from us . . . but for the divine to save us, we must feed it. we must fuel it. we must lay down the holiest of carpets for it to walk upon.❜

and then . . . the chanting changed. suddenly, atop the foreign prayer, came the names of the missing bowling alley employees, the name of laurie deana, the name of kayla mcneil . . . prayers and chants mixing until it was too hard to decipher the muttering as anything more than a swell of noise as it crescendoed. as it rocked the trees, pulsed through the dirt, soared like the rising flames of the fire.

and finally, with a final cry for her savior ;

❛ for YOU, the divine . . . for YOU, the most holy . . . in the name of the divinity of cervus, i give my life to you. i give my sins and my anguish and my blood . . . i give you my life so you may restore breath to those in which it was stolen from !! ❜

and like she were a goddess of flame herself, the woman walked into the fire, the flames catching the fabric of her robes and igniting the wood of her stilts, enwrapping the antlers and the mask on her face, swallowing her whole as her screams of agony sounded off like a war cry. the crowd around you erupts in panic, and none of the handlers try to stop you from running as they drop to their knees around the fire, throw their necklaces & flower crowns into the raging inferno, or launch themselves into the swell of flames themselves.

all you can hear is the sound of prayer, the sound of sacrifice, the outcry of panic, and that steady beat of the drum as sun — finally — begins to sink back down to the western horizon.

𝐨𝐨𝐜 𝐢𝐧𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧

tis not a summer festival without some grand and over the top sacrifice, now is it ??

all you have to do for part two is react . . . it can be an immediate reaction, it can be during the event, it can be days later . . . how is your muse responding to witnessing such a thing ?? did they step forward and offer the gift they had been giving to the flames ?? do they run screaming ??

there is obviously no timelimit on this event: take as long as you wish to wrap up your event threads. the solstice is now over ... but the butterfly has flapped its wings, and helltown, ohio is in for some very cruel awakenings.

[soldierboysdoll]

Just a few headcanon for my SPN DR because I'm bored like hell

(Don't be rude abt my english please, it's not my first language)

– He loves when I listening old musics, like House of the rising sun from The Animals, or Wicked games from Chris Isaak, even though he often mocking with me bacuse of that. It's only teasing.

– Didn't let me drive Baby. He said: "Sorry hon' but I ain't gonna let you hurt my baby" and I'm fine with that, I know I'd probably do that.

– Loves when I wear his old T-shirts, but never let me wear his jacket.

– Once I tattooed a little 'D' initial between my breasts and he always kiss it several times when it comes to intimate moments.

– I love the smell of him. He always smells like leather, motoroil, Palo Santo and cheap detergent.

– When I first show my wings to him, I tore a feather from it and gave it to him. He keep it in the inside pocket of his jacket.

– He was in shock when he first saw the wings and mesmerized when I show him that if he held it in front of the sunlight it's shinmering with a golden light. He was so shocked, he just stared at them for a good half an hour not even speaking.

– When we first met, he was annoyed at Cas that he bought another burden on them, but he actually started to like me when he wanted to corrupt me to drink whiskey and I told him that I made the recipe of the whiskey and incepted it into a random dude's mind.

– The forehead kiss is our trademark. A kiss on the forehead is known to be a symbol of loyalty and trust. Dean knows that angels are loyal to God, but he wants me to be loyal to him and him to me.

– When things get too stressful, Dean and I just take a trip to the nearest waterfront. In the middle of the night, standing in the silence, we just cuddle, me wrapping my wings around him to keep him warm. He would never admit he was cold.

– Unlike other angels, my eyes glimmering opal, so he bought me a necklace with this mineral from a witch for Christmas.

– I had just discovered Spotify, when Dean sitting next to me, started kissing my neck. A playlist of Lana Del Rey started between the heavy kisses and touches. Even the whole making love thing were strange to me, but I bacame much more liberated from Lana's music, it gave rhythm for the whole act. *And yes, my eyes lit up like **that** when... ;)*

– Maybe it's too cliché, but he got an angel wing tattoo on himself because of me. He hates all angels except me, Cas and Jack. He traveled alone to California, where I showed up to him for the first time. He walked into a seemingly trustworthy tattoo studio and came out with two tattoos. With an angel wing ‐ which he made sure they decorated it with golden details - and baby's license plate. After all, we are his two greatest loves.

– I have not visited the Earth many times, but the arts have always captured my interest. I painted Baby for Dean's birthday, which he put on his wall.

– I was wounded by an angel blade during a hunt. Dean has been afraid to use this weapon ever since, because he's afraid he'll hurt me with it, even though he's very good using blades and knifes.

– He knows I love when he has beard, so he shaves less often.

– ALWAYS have cherry and coke flavored Haribo in the glove-box.

– Sometimes he let me pick the music, then grimacing and complaining and whining the whole time during it until I have enough of his bitching and let him pick his music.

– Secretly singing almost every Avril Lavigne song in his mind when I listening that.

– Quickies in baby.

– Quickies almost in every places he gets horny.

– Our love language is mocking and teasing each other and cuddles. Lots of cuddles.

– He can't sleep if I wasn't there for some reason.

– Sexting. A lot.

– He loves when I send him nudes, and has a folder in his phone about them what he titled with just a little angelwing emoji.

– Calls me 'angel' even though he knows I hate it.

– Polaroids of us in baby.

– Let me help when he fix the car, but only because he loves when I gets dirty by motoroil.

– Buy me pads and chips when I'm on my period, but give it to me with a lot of complains and mocking. He loves taking care of me though, even have an extra heater pad what he could heating in the car in his bag in case if I have period cramps on the road.

– Teach me how to clean guns, but always do it for me to make sure it's safe to use.

– He loves my cooking. As soon as he tasted my cooking the first time, he never wants to go to a diner.

[heyymikki]

lamb to the s l a u g h t e r

LOCATION: Hotel in Las Vegas FEATURED: @giovanniiricci @elliottortegax MENTIONED: @maevemacnally, @nikodimopoulos

It was done.

The article she had been working on for months was finished and had been posted both on the Tribune's website and on the front page of the print edition.

It was strange how her feelings for the town and the people in it had significantly changed since she had agreed to Dante's ultimatum nearly three years ago. A place she had never anticipated feeling any attachment to had become home, the people in it her friends and family. Now, with it all in jeopardy, she couldn't in good conscience stand aside and let it happen without putting up a fight to make up for her part in it all. What better way to stick it to the head of the organization that had blackmailed her than to use those same connections to out him for who he really was?

And yet... she had miscalculated. What she had viewed as a mercy of not pulling her friend into it ahead of time given all she was going through turned out to be the exact opposite, blindsiding her friends with the reminder of what they had lost.

Grief reared its head in all kinds of ways, but she hadn't expected the pushback. She hadn't expected the anger from Maeve and her family when she thought she was doing something to help, keeping the names of those lives lost at the forefront of the conversation -- a reminder that they hadn't been forgotten, that there were still people searching for the answers to why they had had their lives senselessly taken from them. Now, because of her own selfish pursuit of redemption, she had hurt others and possibly ruined their friendship for good.

Every day since Niko had told her of the collapse of Los Santos -- and as a result, her ring of protection -- she waited for the businessman to retaliate. There was nothing: no refuting her claims, no spinning of some kind of PR story to explain away the evidence she had found. The silence was deafening.

Still, life moved forward. She still had to go to work, put a smile on her face like she wasn't terrified of the other shoe dropping. The weekend of the music festival quickly approached, and she tried to allow herself to enjoy the idea of letting go and forgetting her cares for even a few hours, even though the last couple of events hadn't gone well. But first, she had to meet a client.

Luna had gotten a request for an evening on the Friday of the festival weekend. Niko insisted she cancel, but she figured before she had to face the ire of those in town she'd upset, she could have the distraction of a night in Vegas. To appease him, she kept her personal phone on her with her location enabled as she made her way to the meeting place.

The opulent hotel lobby shimmered in bright white marble with accents of gold throughout. It was enough to tell her that whoever her client was had a lot of money. If she did well tonight, she wouldn't have to work for a little while. She could help Niko with the restaurant, or they could go to Greece like they had talked about. It felt so long ago already, though it had only been a few weeks realistically.

"Excuse me," she greeted the man behind the check-in counter with a smile. "I was told there would be a key waiting for Luna?"

"Ah, yes, I have that here for you." He pulled out a drawer beneath the desk and pulled a keycard from inside, double checking the room number before jotting it down onto the sleeve.

"Thank you. Is he already up there?" Receiving a nod in response, she smiled and thanked him once more before heading to the elevators, heading for one of the penthouse suites. These were her last few moments alone before she'd have to put on an act for the remainder of the evening. Closing her eyes, she took in a deep breath, trying to brush away the uneasy feeling settling like a weight in her chest. Just one night, then she'd be able to work on everything else later.

The elevator dinged, doors sliding open to the appropriate floor, and she searched for the appropriate room number. Usually when clients left a key at reception, they wanted things to keep things discrete, so she didn't bother to knock, using the key to let herself in.

The room was dim with only a few lamps lit around the common area, and she didn't immediately notice anyone inside. A table in the eat-in kitchen was set with two glasses of wine and two plates covered by metal domes to trap the heat inside and keep it fresh, but she caught whiffs of something earthy and sweet. "Hello?" she called. Maybe he was getting cleaned up, she thought. "Is anyone here?"

"Hello, Miss Beaumont."

Every bone in her body stiffened at his voice. She'd listened to enough interviews and campaign speeches to know the voice of Giovanni Ricci.

If only she had trusted her gut.

Giovanni casually strode from one of the side rooms, a coy smile on his lips like a cat who'd cornered its prey. She backed up towards the door but was immediately halted in her pursuit by a broad, hard chest behind her. The security guard gripped onto her arms to hold her in place as another locked the door.

"I'm so glad you could join me this evening. Please, sit." Giovanni motioned towards the seat across the table as he took his own, unbutton his suit jacket as he did so.

Mikayla was forced into the seat, though she struggled to get out of the guard's grasp. He grabbed the decanter full of red wine and poured some into each of their glasses. "You're not an easy person to get alone, you know." When she didn't respond, he continued. "I read your article, of course. It wasn't entirely accurate, but I was genuinely impressed by what you managed to uncover. I don't imagine you could have done that without help." His gaze flicked up to meet hers. "I'm curious to know who your sources were."

"I wouldn't be a decent journalist if I didn't protect the anonymity of my sources," she replied.

Giovanni chuckled. "You'd be surprised at what information even a person with integrity is willing to share when they're subjected to pain beyond imagination."

Mikki held her breath. "Is that what you're going to do to me?"

"Perhaps. It depends on you, really." He held his glass in the air, waiting for her to do the same. He raised an expectant brow, the silent tension growing every moment she delayed. Finally, she lifted her own glass and held it up, allowing him to gently tap them together. "I'm hoping it won't come to that if we can reach some kind of agreement."

"Is that all you want to know? My sources?"

"Mm, well," he started after a sip of the wine, "right now, yes, but questions beget questions and so on and so forth." He waved a dismissive hand in the air. "You know how it goes."

"No, actually. This is my first time being interrogated for information."

The other guard who had locked the door came to the table to lift the covers off the plates, revealing a filet paired with mushrooms in some sort of wine cream sauce and mixed vegetables on the side. If it had been offered by anyone else, she would have begun eating right away, but she didn't trust that none of the food had been poisoned or tampered with. That didn't stop the man from digging into his own dinner.

"It's rude not to eat," he remarked, watching her.

"It's rude to kidnap someone, too," she retorted.

"I'd hardly call it kidnapping when you came of your own volition," Giovanni chuckled again. "I suppose if you don't eat it, our other guest will."

Mikayla furrowed her brow. "Other guest?"

As if on cue, the muffled sound of a groan came from the room Giovanni had come from. Mikayla's eyes darted in that direction, her heart racing in her chest. She wouldn't put it past him to use someone in her life to get her to talk based off of everything else she'd learned about the man, but the number of people it could be had become an ever-growing list over the last few years. Who could he have grabbed without anyone else noticing?

"Ah, he's awake. Bring him here, would you?" Giovanni didn't even look up to address the guard, but the man nodded and made his way into the room, grappling with whoever was being held there.

Mikayla's eyes grew wide as a bloodied Elliott was dragged into the room and thrust into the third chair at the table. "Dad! What is he doing here? What did you do to him?!"

"I've grown tired of the traitors within my organization who believe I don't know of their disloyalty," Giovanni replied in a bored tone around the steak in his mouth. The man glanced across the table at her, face stoic. "He's been watching you and your mother for years using our resources. If only he'd done more to hide his allegiances, I might have believed he was true to the cause."

Her father was a part of The Enterprise? The news shook her to her core, but she did her best not to let Giovanni see it. The last thing he needed to know was another one of her weaknesses to use against her.

"If you tell me what I want to know, you both can walk out of here and you'll never have to worry about me again. And if you don't... Well." He smirked. "I'll be forced to get creative."

[shyanddreamy]

You can't save everyone

Happy Lowman x Reader | Part 3

Being in Charming again was strange, but above all it was scary. You had been out of the city for about five weeks, and now you were afraid that they hadn’t missed you or that they didn’t want you back. But it was too late to back out.

“Are you ready?”, Creeper asked you, rubbing your back tenderly.

As you didn’t have a car, Neron had offered to drive you to Charming. He was wearing a jacket over his kutt because it wasn’t a good idea for a Mayan to be seen in SOA’s territory without giving them a call first. For this reason, he had stopped his bike a few blocks from the Teller-Morrow workshop.

“I am”, you answered. “Thanks for taking me here. And for everything else.”

“It’s been my pleasure.”

The reality was that you were going to miss him, which wasn’t appropriate to say out loud or it could lead to misunderstandings.

“May we meet again”, you added instead. “And call if you ever need a hand. Even if it’s just to talk.”

“I’ll do”, he nodded. “The same goes for you, love.”

“Okay. I’ll do it too.”

Creeper was the kind of man who always looked after his people. And even though it was a goodbye for now, you already were one of his own.

With nothing more to say, you gave him a heart-felt hug which he did not hesitate to reciprocate. No words were necessary, so after a last smile, he took his bike and drove back to Santo Padre. Once you were alone, you took a deep breath and started walking down the street with a clear destination.

It was getting dark by the time you arrived at the TM, which was already close. However, their bikes were there, so you assumed they´ll be inside the clubhouse. Your heart beat so fast you thought it would explode. And for better or worse, one of the Sons had already seen you as he was sitting outside on the wooden table.

“Look at who we have here!”, Tig exclaimed. Both of you walked towards each other until he was able to welcome you with an embrace. “When have you come back? Come in, boys will love to see you.”

You didn’t have time to talk or even think again about whether this was a good idea or not because Tig guided you directly to the entrance. And his arm was still around your shoulders when you crossed the door, so you couldn’t run away.

“I have found a lost bunny outside, brothers”, was Tig’s way of announcing your return. And while you were telling him not to call you that, the rest of the boys came to give you a warm welcome.

For a few minutes, it was all hugs, questions about how you were doing, and sentences assuring you that they had missed you and were glad you were back. The situation changed when you caught Happy’s eyes on you. Even his brothers understood they should give you some space, so they went to the bar counter to take some beers. Only then, Happy slowly walked towards you, leaving half a metre between the two of you.

“Hey”, you said.

“Hey”, he responded.

Suddenly, you felt the atmosphere colder and a stronger stomach ache due to nerves. Anyway, nothing could change the excitement you were feeling for seeing him again.

“I’ve missed you.”

Happy tensed his jaw and, for a moment, you thought he was going to kick you out. Instead, he put one arm around your back to keep you close and rested his head on your shoulder regardless of the height difference between you. He wasn’t hugging you, it was more like he was looking for some kind of comfort from you. Like a child who has been hurt.

“Cut the bullshit you two and came with us to celebrate Y/N is back home”, Chibs said, which was enough for Happy to give you back your personal space.

“You just want an excuse to get drunk”, you responded while following Happy’s steps to the bar counter.

“Don’t see the problem in there, love”, he added.

A few hours went by while you were drinking and catching up. They told you some anecdotes from these days that you missed out on, and you answered their questions and told them some things about Santo Padre, the city and his people. You tried not to mention Creeper’s name just in case as you focused on telling them more amusing stories. One of the few times you mentioned Mayans was to make fun of the fact that they thought at first you might be some kind of spy.

With the intention of breath some fresh air after the heat you had experienced in Santo Padre, you went outside to smoke a cigarette. However, the person who decided to join you at the wooden table kind of surprised you.

“Tired already?”, Chibs asked you while lighting his own cigarette.

“A little bit”, you responded. “It’s been a long day.”

“Will you go home?”

“Where else?”

“Just asking”, he added, shrugging his shoulders.

“I know you have noticed that something’s going on between Happy and me”, you said. “He has barely spoken to me. That makes it pretty obvious.”

“He has barely spoken, but he didn’t take his eyes off you for a single moment”, Chibs pointed out.

“Yeah, I know.”

He took a long drag on his cigarette and slowly released the smoke before continuing to speak:

“When you left, he lost his head, Y/N. He banged all the croweaters he could at first and started drinking more than usual.”

It wasn’t nice to hear the great number of chicks in which Happy had had his dick in, but you couldn’t reproach him for anything. Not after what you had done with Creeper adding the fact that you weren’t exclusive at all.

“But then everything got weirder”, he continued. “He pushed away every single hoe that tried to get into his pants. And he was in a bad mood most of the time. I mean, more than usual. He also started sleeping in the clubhouse some nights, alone, as if he didn’t want to go home.”

“What the fuck does it all mean?”, you asked him, slightly confused. After Chibs words, there were so many conjectures in your head that you needed someone to confirm or deny them.

“What the hell should I know? I’m not in his damn head, Y/N”, he answered back. “But I’m not blind or stupid. I understand why you left as well as I know how much Happy cares about you. So, put your shit together.”

“You are so rude, Pres, but I get your point.”

Chibs smirked and shook his head.

“I just want what’s best for y’all.”, he assured you before the door opening caught your attention. “I think is my time to go back inside.”

As Chibs walked towards the door, Happy walked towards you, so their paths crossed. You saw Chibs muttering something to Happy, but you couldn’t make out what it was. Moments later, it was just Happy and you out there looking at each other.

“I’m gonna go home”, he announced. “Wanna come?”

“Yeah, I’d like that.”

Happy just nodded in response, so you made your way to his bike. After he sat down on it, he offered his helmet to you.

“Thanks”, you muttered before taking a seat behind him. You had been away from him for so long that even this small distance made you nervous. In any case, you hugged him on the back, as you always did.

Your journey home was shorter than you expected. This could be because you would have liked to have more time before arriving at your destination, where you would have no excuse not to talk.

“I’ve never felt this way at home before”, you said due to both of you were in the middle of the living room looking at each other but without saying a single word.

“How?”

“Awkward.”

“Want to go?”, he asked you.

“No.”

“Want me to go?”

“No, of course not”, you assured him.

“So, what do you want?”

“Don't know. Talk, maybe?”, you suggested, slightly ironically.

“You should talk. You were the one who left.”

“But I left because you didn’t…”, you didn’t finish the sentence, but Happy frowned anyway.

“Because what?”, he growled.

It was time. If he wanted you to talk, you would tell him the raw truth.

“I left because I was hurt. Because seeing you banging randoms chicks under my nose was hurting me”, you said loud and clear. “I love you so fucking much that it hurts, Happy. But you have to tell me. You have to tell me that you don’t feel the same so I can move on.”

Your eyes were watery, but you didn’t shed a single tear. You have practiced this conversation in your head too many times and now you had to keep your composure. Crying would make nothing better.

“So, that’s why you’re here”, Happy pointed out. “You want to hear what you want and leave again.”

“It would be the most reasonable. But I want to move on, not to leave you.”, you acknowledged. “What I have realised is that being away from you is even more painful, Happy. And I would rather have a little of you than none at all, but I can’t keep waiting for something from you that will never come.”

After you stopped talking, Happy remained silent for a few minutes. You were thinking that he might be looking for the right words to reject you when he took something out of his kutt pocket and gave it to you. Frowning, you unfolded the folio to find something that made you frown even more.

“What’s this?”

“A hotel. Halfway between Santo Padre and Charming”, he briefly explained to you. “I booked a room. For us.”

“What? Why?”

“I told you. I thought the trip would be good for you. That some time alone would be good for us”, he added. “I didn’t expect you to stay at Santo Padre.”

“I had no fucking idea, Happy. How was I supposed to know? Why didn’t you tell me?”

“You took your decision. I didn’t have to make up your mind for you.”

You were wordless. Of all the things you thought could happen, this wasn’t one of them. And for once in a long time, it was his turn to speak his truth.

“I’ve never had an Old Lady or any of that bullshit. I thought I'd never want it, but you are so fucking annoying”, he said, pretty mad. “You hurt me too abandoning me, but still all I could think was that I wish you were safe. And this house was so fucking lonely it sucked. So, I’m sorry if this’s not what you wanted to hear, but I fucking love you, Y/N. Call it how you want, I don’t care, but just don’t leave me again.”

Two tears had run down your cheeks at his confession. You had to take a deep breath before you could walk towards him, feeling your whole body shaking.

“I know I was wrong. It was wrong to try to push you away. To try to convince myself that it wasn’t something more”, he continued even though you were now inches away from him. “But I have no fucking idea what I’m doing. This is not like anything I’ve ever done before.”

You brought your hands to his face, gently cupping it as you gave him a soft smile.

“I’ve never thought I'd say that, but for once, stop talking, Happy.”

Happy pursed his lips, completely serious, and waited not knowing what for. Your heart ached again, but this time the reason was different. You left because you weren’t on the same page, when in fact you were.

“I didn’t have a fucking clue when I left Tacoma to come to Charming with you either. The only thing I did know was that I wanted to be with you”, you assured him. “That’s all that mattered then and that’s all that matter now.”

As soon as you finished the sentence, you kissed him, as you had wanted to do since you first saw him in the clubhouse. And when he felt your lips on his, he put his arms around you to reduce the distance between your bodies. The passion with which you kissed each other was high, but you both needed more.

You slipped your hands under his shirt and Happy quickly gave you a hand to get rid of his kutt and shirt. When you felt his warm skin under the palms of your hands, you bit his lower lip with desire.

“I’ve missed this so much”, you muttered, but the sound of your shirt being torn confused you for just a few seconds. “You had no need to do that!”

But all you could see was his mischievous smile.

“I do needed it. I’ve missed you too.”

From that moment onwards, you could no longer contain yourselves. Your clothes were scattered on the living room floor, and your lips would be swollen from so much passionate kissing. You had left wet kisses and bites all around Happy’s neck and his fingertips would probably be marked on your skin by then. You didn’t even waste time on going to a bedroom or, at least, to the sofa. Instead, Happy cornered you against the nearest wall and wrapped one of your legs around his waist. When he couldn’t wait any longer, he plunged himself down inside you and stayed like that for a few seconds.

“Shit. I’ve missed you so fucking much”, he panted.

As his movements became wilder, the only thing you could do was sink your nails in his back and his shoulders, moaning like you wanted the whole world to hear you. Happy knew everything about your body, but your body also reacted differently to him than to anyone else. Everything was better with him. And it wasn’t just your body, it was your mind and your heart too. Every single part of you was in sync with Happy. And in some moment, the three words you had never said before during sex escaped from your mouth.

“I love you.”

You had said those words to him many times. For instance, every time he went on a mission, because you cared so much about him and wanted him to be safe, but you’ve never said that when you were hooking up. It would have been out of place. But now, in that moment, those words meant all the things you couldn’t express any other way.

“Again. Say it again”, he growled.

“I love you. I love you so fucking much”, you repeated as it was a mantra while his thrusts got harder. “I love you more than my life. More than everything. And I’ll love you forever.”

With those words sounding close to his ear, accompanied by your moans, and burying his head on you neck, Happy got his release. You could tell by the way his muscles tensed and his fingers sank into your thigh and hip.

“Fuck. You’re gonna be the death of me.”

“It would be a sweet death at least”, you responded. “But now I really need to sit down. My legs are shaking so badly I don’t know if I’ll be able to stand on my own when you let me go.”

You went straight to the sofa and didn’t do a single thing except catch your breath. The only thing Happy moved from the sofa for was to get the packet of cigarettes out of his trouser pocket. And as he lit his, he did the same with yours.

“It’s been quicker than usual”, you pointed out.

“Fuck you. It’s been a while”, he defended himself. “Besides, I've all night to fuck you until you beg me to stop.”

“Sounds tempting”, you nodded while biting you lower lip. “But I'd like some timeout. Do you want a beer?”

“Please.”

You spent some time talking calmly about the last few weeks you had been apart. You spoke of trivial things, but also of cloying ones, such as the times when you had been on the verge of calling the other to talk for at least a few minutes. You had to mention that you had spent a few nights with one of the Mayans from Santo Padre, but without explicitly saying that you had been fucking. However, Happy wasn’t the right person to blame you for anything either. Instead, you told him that Creeper had helped you find a decent room in a considerably better motel, and that he had given you a couple of recommendations for nice places to go and places to avoid. After the talk, you went to Happy’s room this time, and once there you took your time to give each other a few more orgasms. Maybe with that pace you could make up for the lost weeks. Having finished such and intense and exhausting activity, you could easily have fallen asleep if it wasn’t for the fact that, odd as it may seem, Happy still wanted to talk.

“You know how this life is. The danger. Why do you still want to be with me?”

“During the years, I've learnt to understand your life. What the kutt means and everything that it involves”, you responded. “Dangerous or not, it’s your life. You chose it and I respect it. And I love your brothers. They are my family now too.”

“But I’m gonna die, Y/N. Someday. For my club”, he added.

“You don’t know that for sure.”

“It’s a possibility.”

“So, I could die too someday. You know that what I do to earn money isn’t safe either.”

“You won’t die as long as I’m here.”

“Maybe. But what if we die? Everybody dies. And I prefer to spend the time we have together. No matter what.”

“Sounds good”, he acknowledged. Anyway, he still had doubts. “But I’m fucked up. You can’t deny it.”

“Of course you are. You are as fucked up as I am.”

“It’s not the same.”

“I don’t give a shit about what differences you see”, you answered back. “I may be one of the people that knows you better, the good and the bad. And I still love you. You’ve never scared me. I see you, Happy, and I still love you with all my heart.”

“Thanks”, he muttered. “For loving me despite everything I am and everything I do.”

“Cut the bullshit”, you growled while hitting him with the right amount of force in the ribs. “You are talking like a crybaby.”

“Sorry”, he answered, this time with a slight smile on his face. “I just don’t want you to regret it.”

“I won’t. I promise.”

“Okey. Fine.”

Happy stubbed out his cigarette in the ashtray on his bedside table and made himself comfortable on the bed, pulling you towards him so that your head rested on his chest.

“So, are you gonna be here, right?”, he asked you in a soft voice while his hand caressed your still naked body. “Tomorrow morning, I mean.”

“Yeah, I’ll be here”, you responded tenderly. “Tomorrow morning and every other morning. I’m not going anywhere anymore.”

“Sounds good.”

“Sounds perfect”, you pointed out.

←Part 2 // Part 4→

[delfts-purple]

The people in this city are fucked up. No wonder there is so much crime here. XD

[factorialsotherfandoms]

Recursive fic circles? Recursive fic circles. guestcom2 on ao3 wrote a fic based on my xcomau, and now I write a fic in my au based on their fic...

TW: memory problems, drowning, mind control, minor past oc death, q!Forever mentioned very briefly, referenced previous torture

Felps does not remember anything.

Not from those ten years, at least; he was frozen, 'inactive', held in suspension of body and mind while his nervous system was used as a computer processor. That's what Aypierre says, at least, and Felps is inclined to believe him.

It feels true, at the very least: in one memory he is in the old control room. There is a party going on, a celebration of finally taking done of the large enemy vessels - mothership, they called it then, but they know so much better now. Pac and Mike were gone, Forever was drinking and socialising, Cellbit... Cellbit was antsy, so Felps stuck to his side. Laughter and delight, and the comms team hugging each other while the mission flies back.

And then...

Then there is Leticia, and her eyes turn Tazercraft blue, and before anyone knows what is happening she has put a bullet through Commander dos Santos' skull. Cellbit could do nothing for the possessed back then, not other than shoot them.

And they could not shoot them all when they were outnumbered five to one, and the bodies they wore were their colleagues', if not their /friends/.

Even if Felps had never put down his gun.

There is a fight, and an explosion, and Matthias grabs Felps by the throat. He struggles, he fights back, but his injuries, and being suffocated...

The last thing he remembers is Cellbit screaming his name - before rubble falls and knocks him to the floor.

Cellbit does not get up, and the next thing Felps knows it is ten years later, in a strange and unfamiliar place, and one friend is sobbing into his chest while three others are missing - presumed dead - and reality does not quite fit.

And Felps?

Felps remembers nothing. He knows that he remembers nothing, that he was frozen in time - in a coma, unaging as well as unthinking - for ten. Fucking. Years.

Except...

Except that while Felps has no /memories/, there are little things.

When he's handed an alien datapad, he can navigate it more easily than even Tubbo. Instinctively he knows every inch of the software, navigating around and pulling up what they need without even thinking about it - if he thinks about it, he cannot do it any more.

Felps does not remember where or how he learnt it - maybe it's just programmed in a way logical to him?

But it happens again, and again, and again.

He finds himself reading alien texts with ease, unable to pronounce or translate them but understanding what they mean. His grasp of tactics is improved, better able to judge the moments of friend and foe in aid of bringing people safely home. He knows the names of flowers he's never seen in eighteen human languages and four alien ones, and yet not his own.

Felps does not remember anything, it's just... It's just little things.

Little things, like how he hears screams, the screams of people he's never met - begging for mercy and help and release in languages he does not know.

Or when reviewing footage he sees a recording of a Federation worker, and instantly knows what they were doing four years ago, in intimate detail, down to how many bullets it took them to kill his new colleague's friends.

Or how it feels to break a neck - to have your neck be broken.

He keeps silent, he does not tell, he drags his hands through his hair and tries and tries and tries to bring the memories to mind - but just as Aypierre promises, they are not there.

It's not memory, not really, not properly.

It's...

Iron Mouse knows, because she caught him out - she calls it a stain on his soul. Doctor Ruiz knows, because you have to tell your doctor these things - she calls it trauma, both say his brain is just desperately trying to fill in the blanks. Aypierre knows, because Aypierre is a brain scientist who was also chipped, so if anyone understands he will - he calls it just filling in the blanks, says that there is no chance of Felps having been conscious enough to dream, let alone to remember.

He doesn't tell Cellbit.

If his best friend doesn't know already, then he does not want to worry him.

If his best friend doesn't know already, then it's better this way.

If his best friend doesn't know already, then there's no need to make Cellbit think he failed.

Not when he did anything but, when this it would be at worst inconsequential and at best a useful failure.

It is just that sometimes... Sometimes Felps feels a wire in his skull, and another in his spine, his limbs withered and chained as though he can move them. He is in agony, and pain, and his very being rejects itself in a desperate attempt to expel the devices feeding from his nerves.

Sometimes Felps dreams of a fluid too viscous to be oil in his lungs, of drowning for hours upon hours upon days upon years, and never, ever being allowed to die. Of being surrounded on all sides, of screaming for help and nothing coming out. Of a pitch dark nothingness, of being alone in pain and the dark. Of begging for death, and being granted no release.

... Sometimes, in the dark, half-asleep... Sometimes, Felps wakes, and there is a crushing hole in his chest, one that screams for his friends - his family. It is a gaping open wound weeping and bleeding and refusing to scar, destruction and loneliness and desperation incarnate, carved into his very soul.

He stops sleeping alone, and does not mention it - how can he claim to have missed his friends, to have a part in their loneliness, when does not remember ever being alone?

Just smile, play it off, do not think - at most it is just glimpses, anyway. If Felps were to add up every strange feeling or flash he has had, it still would not total a whole hour.

Less than an hour in ten years?

That does not count at all.

It does not count, because he says it doesn't, and reality may be fuzzy but he knows it cannot be real.

And then...

One day, in the archive, there is Cellbit, and there is Philza, and the two are discussing a mission - perhaps even a clue. Felps captured Philza for Cellbit, but mission complete he steps aside. He means to leave them be, to curl up in the blankets, to rest, to wait for his best friend in all the worlds to be done.

Except...

Philza passes him a sheet of paper that Cellbit has drawn on, sketched out what he saw - what Philza heard.

"Exthaldor," he says, without even thinking. "I don't recognise her, but they call themselves Exthaldor. She's dressed like a mid-ranked bureaucrat."

He looks up, sees horror and fascination in Cellbit's eyes - sees a pity born of intimate familiarity in Philza's.

"I don't-"

His breath picks up.

"You saw it in a datapad," Cellbit tells him.

"Maybe," Felps replies, grasping at straws as ash settles on his tongue. "I read a lot of them, and my memory is kinda shitty."

He did not read it in a datapad; if he did, Cellbit would know it too.

"I'm getting shots," Philza butts in, a hand on each of their shoulders to draw attention from each other, and onto himself. "If I'm explaining how /I/ know those fuckers, I'm doing it drunk."

"Are you sure-" Cellbit starts, but by the time he has found a question, Philza is already gone.

Instead he turns back to Felps, holds his hand as they wait for the panic to calm, and the viscous, terrible liquid to leave Felps' lungs.

(It won't, it never will; it isn't there, and Felps was never conscious to feel it so why-?)

But it's fine, it's fine, it's just a few words, and a newfound ability with technology, and his mind getting overactive imagining what his captivity must have been like, and intrusive thoughts trying to sympathise with horrors he missed, and- and- and Aypierre tells him he cannot remember those ten years, as every part of his brain was being written on and overwritten like an abused hard drive; the fact Felps remembers /before/ is a surprise enough itself.

So it must be, it must have been something he read in a datapad.

He squeezes Cellbit's hands a little tighter.

It must have been, it must have been, it's the only logical explanation...

And it is not like they are real memories, anyway; there are no words, no thoughts, no context - just pain, and glimpses, a few words in other languages and a deep, deep longing in his soul. Nothing useful, nothing concrete even, just flashes of momentary inspiration and an impression of long hours of suffocating both literal and otherwise.

It's not memories, it's just feelings, just his brain playing tricks on him, his flesh remembering things he cannot, some programming matching his oddities, muscle memory basically! It's just-!

Well, the alternative doesn't matter, does it?

Because Felps remembers nothing of those ten years; the alternative is too terrible impossible to consider.

[mystrangesanto]

That's right - King Bossonius the Bloody will be @ Dustfaire 2023! Pay your respects w/ a fistbump. Just look for the one wearing the 👑!

[starfall-spirit]

Summary: See Renaissance Masterlist

CW: Minor Smut below the cut. Only a few paragraphs this chapter. But Daddy Rhys is on his way to the party. You've been warned.

Word Count: 1, 234

Chapter IV: Kill Me With Kindness

There was flirting over dinner. Eyes full of sultry promises later whispered in her ear as they strolled down the Arno on their fifth evening in Florence. There was a soft string melody and a strong arm around her waist, tugging her closer. Hands, just straying from gentlemanly. There was a story unwinding and a man to it, holding her like a lover. Like a husband.

And there was a moment where a spark turned to flame, burning her up as they left the lights and life of Santo Spirito behind them, that burning rising and rising before Rhys was leading her to his bed, dragging her zipper down and unclasping her bra.

Soft lips skated across her jaw and down her throat, each kiss as tender as the one before it and only pausing to lay her down on the queen size mattress. She gasped as teeth clamped down over her nipple, a tongue stroking over it to soothe the slight pain. “Rhys.”

“My darling Feyre.” She raked her fingers through his hair, practically aching for him to move down, down, down further, to where his still-covered torso—she’d remedy that soon enough—would fit to keep her legs parted, a bit of lace all that separated them. One hand drifted down from his silky hair to move down his neck and to the buttons of the dress shirt he had selected for their time roaming the city.

He caught her hands, kissing each palm. “Feyre darling, we have all the time in the world.”

Still, knowing just where she wanted him to begin, he sank down, hooking his fingertips around the bits of red lace at either hip. With his tongue finally stroking— ~~~~~ A knock on the door was what drew Feyre out of her strange and admittedly pleasant dream. “Feyre. Feyre, are you awake?”

Casting bleary eyes towards the clock, she found it was already nine-thirty. “Shit,” she hissed, instinctively pressing her thighs together as her companion called for her again.

“Yeah. Sorry. Give me a few minutes to shower and I’ll be out.” It was only fair he granted her a moment to compose herself after… that. Not that he knew anything about it. She was hardly breathing as he moved away from her door. “Holy hell.”

She didn’t know how last night—only their second night in the city, in truth—had brought such a scene to her subconscious. Last night was pleasant. Utterly platonic, even if she’d let herself have a little more wine than usual. Even if she had freed her quick tongue and bright laugh. Even if she had leaned into him as the night wind refracted from the murmuring river. His hands hadn’t once strayed beyond catching her when her toe hooked on an uneven cobblestone, but something through their night out had changed.

“Shit.”

Before now she’d never felt the need to start cursing things the second she woke up. If that was what one night did to her, would would the next twelve days mean for them. She put a pin in that thought as she turned on the shower head, stripping down. Who said any of what happened last night would repeat. She could distance herself, even if the city was romantic.

Starting today. Because today really was about history. Last night they had seen the Uffizi Gallery from a distance and Rhys had only taken a glance at her too see her adoration of its history and contents, before saying, “I’ll check on tickets tonight.”

Something told her when she left the shower she’d find those tickets already paid for, despite his catering to her interests within the city before his own. And you know, maybe that was okay, for this trip. She certainly hadn’t been saving for a vacation abroad and he was the one who got them into this mess.

With that in mind, she shut off the shower, drying off and dressing to head out to the kitchen for breakfast. She could smell him cooking breakfast meat. “Good morning, Feyre darling.” She couldn’t help but recall her dream at the endearment, bringing a blush to her cheeks. He raised his eyebrows. “Are you alright?”

“Yes. Yes, I’m fine. Sorry.”

“I don’t know why you keep apologizing this morning, or what’s got you blushing beyond my good looks, which I thought you were acclimated to by now—” She scoffed. “I was worried when you slept so late. It’s a bit unusual for you, isn’t it?”

“Oh, once in a blue moon my internal clock is less insistent. Perhaps I was having a pleasant dream.” She didn’t know why she said it, but at least she’d kept her voice level as she accepted a cup of coffee and a plate holding a croissant from a nearby bakery and fresh sausage.

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

Once she thoroughly banished the fantasy of his head between her legs, conversation came easily, drifting into her main interests at the Uffizi. He hung on every word, looking like the passion she held was something vital to him. Or perhaps that was her imagination. Some strange lingering affect of his attention to her last night on their walk.

After settling the time for their admission to the gallery, Rhys pulled up the ticket purchase on his laptop, hesitating at the pay point, just waiting for her to argue him paying the small fee. She took another sip of her coffee. “Good,” he murmured, something in his tone—in his eyes—that made her pause a moment. “What?”

“Why?” His brows flicked up at the question. “Why have you insisted on paying for everything?”

“I have what I like to call my inner circle. Small as they are, Mor, Amren, my brothers, they support me in ways others don’t. In return I spoil them. You should see Amren in her fancy jewelry—like a drake hoarding gold.”

He smiled, taking her hand just long enough to brush a thumb across her knuckles. “You’re part of that inner circle now, Feyre. I’m fully entitled to spoil you senseless so long as you remain part of the family.”

He was a caretaker before all else. She’d always known it was beneath the arrogance, but now that they didn’t just see one another in the company of the group—now that they were alone she thought he might just try to kill her with kindness.

She might just let him. Only on their honeymoon of course. ~~~~~ He was preening and he knew it. Twelve euros was hardly a significant purchase, but this was the infamously stubborn Feyre Archeron. He’d had to catch himself earlier, check his tone and word choice as she asked him about his insistence to treat her and the others. Because there was a very different urge to provide for one’s brother or cousin than to provide for a woman one cared for, even if she refused to acknowledge what he felt he wore on his sleeve.

Some selfish part of him had been glad she got that text. Not that her ex was causing issues. The mere thought of that asshole camping outside her apartment had his blood boiling. But that selfish part of him was glad she had decided to go to that lunch, to get on that plane, to walk the river with him.

And perhaps for the one thing she hadn’t decided—to dream of him.

~~~~~

AN: Switch my posting schedule for ACOTW and Renaissance because the late ACOTW chapter went out today.

In Rhys' defense, he hasn't been to that villa in years. He couldn't possibly remember how thin the walls were when he took the room beside the one she picked out. And if he did it was only to ensure she didn't have nightmares about anything, right?????

Also, all Rhys POVs are dedicated to the lovely @the-lonelybarricade. She is the main reason every chapter will have a Rhys POV.

Daddy Rhys is coming, LB. Cross my heart.

Tag List: Ask/comment/message me to be added or removed.

@reverie-tales // @faeriequeensuriel // @s-uppertime // @pandavelaris // @goddess-aelin

[strangedarlingmovie]

Strange Darling | Clever Masterpiece | Now Playing Only In Theaters

Experience the thrill of "Strange Darling" a clever masterpiece in horror thriller movies! In this gripping movie clip, watch as a seemingly innocent one-night stand spirals into a chilling M U R D E R spree. Starring Willa Fitzgerald and Kyle Gallner, this film promises to keep you on the edge of your seat.

Directed by JT Mollner and featuring a talented cast including Barbara Hershey and Ed Begley Jr., "Strange Darling" explores the dark side of desire and deception. Don’t miss the strange darling movie now playing only in theaters.

Strange Darling film now playing in theaters. From the producer of Barbarian & Late Night with the Devil, this is one horror thriller film you won't want to miss.

Cast:

Willa Fitzgerald as the Lady

Kyle Gallner as the Demon

Giovanni Ribisi as Art Pallone

Barbara Hershey

Ed Begley Jr.

Madisen Beaty

Bianca Santos

Steven Michael Quezada

[magentalightstudios]

Strange Darling 2024 Movie Scene | Willa Fitzgerald & Kyle Gallner

In this thrilling clip from the upcoming horror thriller Strange Darling, Willa Fitzgerald desperately hides from Kyle Gallner's menacing presence. As Kyle searches relentlessly to find and K I L L her, he chillingly taunts with the dialogue, "Hey Kitty, Kitty Kitty." This intense scene showcases the terrifying atmosphere and gripping suspense that defines the movie.

"The cleverest thriller of its kind" - Variety

Storyline: Nothing is what it seems when a twisted one-night stand spirals into a serial K I L L E R’s vicious M U R D E R spree. "Strange Darling" promises to keep you on the edge of your seat with its unpredictable plot and haunting performances.

Release Date: Strange Darling arrives August 23rd, only in theaters.

Starring:

Willa Fitzgerald & Kyle Gallner

Written & directed by JT Mollner

Cinematography by Giovanni Ribisi

From the producer of Barbarian & Late Night with the Devil

About the Film: Strange Darling is a 2023 American horror-thriller film written and directed by JT Mollner. Starring Willa Fitzgerald, Kyle Gallner, Barbara Hershey, and Ed Begley Jr., the film is set to be released in the United States on August 23, 2024, by Magenta Light Studios.

Cast:

Willa Fitzgerald as the Lady

Kyle Gallner as the Demon

Giovanni Ribisi as Art Pallone

Barbara Hershey

Ed Begley Jr.

Madisen Beaty

Bianca Santos

Steven Michael Quezada

The film premiered on September 22, 2023, at Fantastic Fest in Austin, Texas. In March 2024, Magenta Light Studios acquired U.S. distribution rights, scheduling its theatrical release for August 23, 2024.