#Look at me coming up with tags for new muses the same day I add them XD

[mymanymerrymuses]

Me: I might add a couple of the muse kids.

Me: *adds 6 of them*

Sooo Tsukishima Haruto, Oikawa Tani, and Enrique, Cain, Carla, and Celeste Madrigal are all here now?

[wholoveseggs]

Mine

GIF credit --- > @alwaysandforevergifs

18+ ---- {Masterlist} {Tag-List}

Part Two

Rebekah talks some sense into you and you aim to repair your relationship with Elijah.

♡♡ Thanks for the request sweet @amournoir ♡♡

3.5k words - Warnings: smutttt, oral, riding, slight dom!elijah, Rebekah playing matchmaker, sprinkling of anal & a birthday boy gets his wishes...

You took a long shower, washing off the sex and party, hoping to scrub your sins away, but it didn't. It only made the marks Klaus left on your body more obvious.

You quickly dried off, throwing your hair into a ponytail and wrapping yourself in a blanket as you walked to the kitchen, not expecting to see Rebekah there, making tea.

"How was your night? I lost you towards the end," she smirked, obviously knowing where you ended up and what you did.

"Oh you know, it was good," you shrugged, grabbing your cereal.

"Good, huh," Rebekah mused, looking over at you.

You shrugged again, your cheeks warming as you refused to make eye contact with her. She giggled knowingly and went to pour the water in her mug, turning her back to you.

"I warned you about Nik," she teased you, and you groaned.

"I know," you huffed, looking down into your cereal, and swirling it around with your spoon. "I made a huge mistake, but please don't tell him I said that,"

She looked over at you and nodded, and then her eyes drifted over you as she smirked, and you suddenly realized your marks were very visible on your skin. You covered yourself up with your blanket, making Rebekah laugh loudly.

"You know, it surprised me that you went with Nik instead of Elijah," Rebekah teased you as she blew on her tea to cool it down.

"Elijah? He's not interested in me, not in that way," you chuckled, but you were frowning internally. He wasn't, was he?

You'd thought of it before, but then quickly dismissed it as just some stupid fantasy in your head, something that could never happen.

"Just make a move, he's far too reserved," Rebekah advised you, bringing her mug up to her lips.

"He's not," you defended him. "Besides, he's only seen me as a friend and I don't want to ruin our friendship. He's really important to me,"

"He's been in love with you since the day he met you," Rebekah rolled her eyes, shaking her head in disapproval at your answer. "Nik said the same thing," she muttered under her breath, and you barely caught it.

"Nik knew?!" You exclaimed, of course Nik knew and he slept with you anyway. He was such an ass.

Rebekah just nodded, taking a sip of her tea and looking anywhere but at you. You sighed, leaning back in your chair as you tried to process this new information.

"I fucked up," you groaned, rubbing a hand over your face.

"You're telling me," Rebekah chuckled in agreement, and you shot her a glare.

You got up from the table, tossing your empty bowl in the sink. You could feel the guilt weighing heavily on your shoulders, and the knowledge that Klaus knew about Elijah's feelings didn't help matters.

"What should I do?" You asked, unsure.

"Tell Elijah how you feel. Ignore Klaus," she shrugged as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"You're right. I'll tell him when I see him tomorrow," you stated, the plan solidifying in your mind.

Rebekah smiled, "Good. Now come take some of my blood so those marks will heal, it looks atrocious darling,”

A few hours before you were to meet up with Elijah, you snuck into the compound. With Rebekahs help, you knew no one would be home and you could put your plan into action.

You went to Elijah's room, laying out a few more birthday gifts you bought him and decorating the space. You lit a few candles and had some music playing softly. Your nerves were going haywire and you felt like your heart was beating out of your chest. You paced around the room, trying to calm your nerves and keep from backing out.

You went to his bathroom to add the finishing touches to his final present, you. You put on some lingerie, sheer, lace and leaving nothing to the imagination. You added some thigh high stockings, clipping them on with a garter belt.

You took a deep breath and looked in the mirror, trying to stay confident. You were going to go through with this. He would like this, right?

You went out into the bedroom, pulling a robe over yourself and sitting on his bed, nervously fiddling with your hands as you waited. You tried to sit in a sexy position, but every pose felt unnatural.

Finally, after a few agonizing minutes, you heard his footsteps. Thanks to Rebekah you knew Klaus would be away for the evening, which meant you had the place all to yourself.

The look on his face when he walked in was worth it. He paused in the doorway, his eyes widening as they swept over the room. He took a moment before his gaze found yours, and his expression turned soft, a small smile forming.

"I hope you don't mind but I got some more gifts for you," you spoke quietly, feeling your confidence slipping away the longer he stared at you.

You had rendered him speechless, which was not something that happened very often, and that made you feel a bit better.

He slowly walked in, closing the door behind him and setting his things on the desk in the corner. He didn't say anything else and just watched you. You felt like prey being stalked by its predator, the anticipation was killing you.

"I thought we could celebrate alone," you murmured, feeling your cheeks heat up. "Do you like it?" You added, getting off the bed and gesturing around the room.

His eyes never left you, trailing up your legs to the hem of your robe, then to your face. He seemed to be deciding what to do next.

"Yes, very much so," he answered, his eyes still dark, his breathing a little deeper.

"I have one more gift," you said softly, trying to keep your breathing steady. "But you have to close your eyes,"

He hesitated, but complied. He closed his eyes, and you walked closer to him, reaching out to take his hand. You guided him to the bed, and he sat down.

"Keep them closed," you told him, and he did.

You removed your robe, letting it fall to the floor. You stood there, waiting for a few seconds, and then you got up the courage and climbed onto his lap. 

He hummed, his hands resting on your waist, he could feel that you weren't wearing much, but he kept his eyes closed.

"You can open them," you whispered.

He opened them slowly, and when his eyes met yours, his pupils were blown wide. You had never seen him look at anyone that way before.

"Happy birthday," you blushed, giving him a shy smile.

He was still silent as his eyes roamed your body. A part of you began to panic at his reaction, were you wrong in thinking he wanted you in this way?

Then he gripped your hips tighter, a smirk playing on his lips.

"Am I being granted a birthday wish?" His voice was darker, just a hint of seduction mixed in.

You looked away from him, blushing even harder, and mumbling a yes.

He pressed his lips to yours and it felt like sparks exploded all around you, the feeling was indescribable. The kiss was desperate and needy and full of so many hidden emotions, all brought out in the space of a minute.

You clutched at his shirt, gasping into his mouth and moaning softly. This is what you'd always wanted, what you needed. He could give it to you, he always could.

"How long have you wanted this, sweetheart?" Elijah asked, a jolt of heat racing through your veins at the tone of his voice.

"Years," you whispered against his lips, it was all you were able to get out before he was kissing you again.

One of his hands came up to tangle in your hair, pulling lightly and tilting your head to deepen the kiss. You moaned into his mouth, panting and whimpering as he got more and more aggressive and rough.

He snaked a hand down between your legs, pushing aside your panties and finding you wet. He hummed in approval, and you pulled away from his lips, letting out a soft cry when his fingers slipped inside you.

He teased you, not giving you enough pressure where you needed it most. It was slow and you squirmed, wanting him to give you more.

He sensed your frustration and smiled, "I can do whatever I want with my present, be a good girl now," he whispered, making you whine and blush more.

You were surprised by how dirty Elijah was being and what turned you on even more, was knowing you would be the only one to see this side of him.

"Yeah, I'll be good," you huffed, pouting a bit. You really wanted him to fuck you.

"I'd like to unwrap my gift now," he was smirking at your frustration and then unclasped your bra, tossing it aside. He held you firmly in is his lap as he looked you over. 

You felt shy and exposed as his eyes studied your body, his hands coming up to touch the soft flesh of your breasts, squeezing and then rolling your nipples between his fingers, until they were stiff and aching. He gave you a wicked smile as he licked at one, feeling you tremble beneath him.

He pulled you up further on his thighs, so your chest was level with his mouth.

You had no time to process what was happening before he had his lips wrapped around one of your nipples, nipping lightly and licking, while his hand tweaked the other one. He repeated this action with both of your breasts, as you arched your back, whining his name and pleading for him to give you more. You enjoyed the light tease, but if he didn't fuck you soon you were going to lose it.

He pulled back and let you undue his belt, tugging his pants down just enough to free his cock. He was still fully dressed, while you only had your panties and stockings on. His cock sprang up, and you reached down between the two of you to wrap a hand around him, stroking gently.

His hands gripped your ass and lifted you up, lowering you down on his cock. Your eyes locked and a whimper left your throat, the stretch was delicious and felt so good.

When you were seated fully on him, you both took a moment to breathe. The connection between you felt new and deep and unlike anything you'd ever felt before. It was terrifying and thrilling all at once and you were desperate to have more. You wanted to be consumed by him, it was the only thing you knew would sate the intensity you were feeling.

His dark eyes conveyed the same feelings and he began lifting you up and down. Your hands finding purchase on his shoulders as he controlled your movements. He was using you as he pleased, and you didn't mind one bit.

The sound of slapping flesh filled the room, and it sounded obscene. Your mind clouded with lust and emotion. His lips on your neck, sucking and biting, he let his fangs graze your skin to feel your pulse under them.

"Making such a mess on my cock," he murmured against your neck, smirking at how wet you were. You were so embarrassed by how he was talking to you, you shouldn't have liked it, but God it was making you wetter and you could feel his pants getting damp from your cum. You were mortified.

This only made him grin wider, licking a stripe up your neck and then sucking bruises across your neck and chest. He watched your face contort with pleasure as his grip on you got tighter and he thrusted up into you.

"I'm going to claim every part of you, so when Niklaus sees you, he'll know he failed," Elijah's voice was stern, but the growl behind it made you shiver.

Just when you are about to hit your peak he flipped you onto the bed, keeping your bodies connected. He pressed himself against you, fucking into you deep and slow, his breath hot in your ear, praising you for being so good for him.

You felt your climax hit you hard, crying out his name and clawing at his shirt. Elijah drank up the sight of you beneath him, your pupils blown and your body trembling through your high.

He was still buried inside you, and he stilled for a moment, staring down at you with an expression of awe and affection. It made you flush under his gaze, unable to maintain eye contact for long.

He reached between your bodies, rubbing your swollen clit to push you over the edge again, catching your lips in his so he could swallow your moans, smiling against you.

"So beautiful," he breathed against your lips, kissing you once more before pulling out. He seemed unconcerned with chasing his own release, instead focusing on you.

You tugged at his shirt, desperate to feel his skin against yours, he pulled it off quickly and then his lips found yours again.

His hand moved down to your thigh, his fingers dancing over the lace material of your stockings. He broke the kiss, his lips going down to your neck, his fingers finding the clasp on the one of stockings, unclipping it with a snap.

He hummed and moved down your body, his lips pressing kisses over your collarbone and down the valley of your breasts. He unclipped the other one, and his mouth went down your stomach. He pulled the panties off you with his teeth, smirking as he went, then looking up at you.

You were sweating a little, your hair a mess and you were panting. He'd done a number on you already and it made him ache, knowing no one had ever seen you like this. Only him.

He leaned in and tasted you, his tongue lapping up the slick from your previous orgasms. You were over sensitive and tried to close your legs, but he held them open, sucking and licking, rubbing your clit in gentle circles.

You were close to coming again and then he pushed one of his fingers into your ass, making you gasp and squirm.

"Eli!" You breathed his name, blushing. You had never had anyone do this before, and it sent a strange thrill through your body.

He removed his mouth and looked up at you, moving back up to hold your gaze, "I want to have all of you," he explained and waited, not wanting to pressure you into anything.

"You can, but no one's ever..." you trailed off, squirming under him, suddenly too embarrassed to look at him anymore.

He squeezed your ass, pulling your thigh up over his hip as he moved beside you. He brought his lips to yours in a soft kiss, distracting you as he moved his hands down to your ass. He began massaging the flesh, spreading your cheeks and a finger breached the entrance to your ass slowly.

"Relax," he whispered against your lips, his free hand gripping your hair and tugging it. You mewled and he kissed you harder. He swallowed your whimpers, his thumb pressing against your clit and his fingers pushing into both your holes.

He stayed gentle, knowing it was a little different than vaginal sex. You did like it, the unfamiliar pleasure warming your belly.

He stretched and worked your body slowly, trying to relax you. Your lips were puffy and your eyes were hooded as he continued, sliding a second finger into your ass, stretching you. He listened to your erratic heartbeat as you watched him.

"You okay, sweetheart?" He asked softly, rubbing your clit with a little more pressure to distract you.

Your nails were digging into his chest, your mind foggy with a daze of pleasure, nodding your head. His lips were feather light against your neck, and he smiled, noticing how flushed and turned on you were.

"Are you ready my love?" Elijah's voice was soothing and had no pressure behind it, which only made your love for him grow even stronger.

"Yes," your voice was breathless and pleading, you needed this, needed him, needed to be closer and to share this experience with him. He was the only one you trusted to give yourself to him.

He rolled you onto your back, pushing your thighs up and nudging your knees apart. He spent a few moments drinking in the sight of you beneath him, his eyes skimming over every inch of your body with reverence.

His thumb played with your clit as he prepared his cock. Your arousal coated his fingers and he spread it along his length, slicking his cock up. He got into position and started to push into your tight hole.

"Look at me," he said softly as he hovered over you, continuing the process of taking you slowly.

You did as he commanded, eyes locking as he moved inside you. You clung to his arms, panting at the sudden stretch. He pushed in another few inches, watching your face carefully, listening to the reactions your body gave.

"It's okay," he assured you, rubbing your clit with his thumb and pushing the rest of the way in.

You squirmed and mewled, but he stilled, letting you adjust before he began to move. Slowly rocking his hips, easing in and out, hissing and biting his lip at how impossibly tight you were.

He pushed your legs up further and eased two fingers inside your pussy, pushing in and out slowly and timing it with his thrusts.

He worked you up, moving slow and deep, filling you up. You were a whimpering mess and looked so beautiful to him, the sight of you and the feeling of you completely submitting to him was intoxicating.

You couldn't speak, the pleasure overwhelming, your hand reaching out to cup his cheek, and he turned his head to kiss your palm.

He leaned down and claimed your lips in a soft kiss, his hips moving just a little faster, rocking deeper inside you, touching every part of you and making you his.

His fingers in your pussy were moving just right, brushing against that spot inside you. His kisses grew sloppy, with you panting into each other's mouths and struggling to breath through the pleasure.

"Eli..." you gasped, shaking beneath him, knowing you were close. He was starting to fall over the edge with you, pushing you both towards oblivion.

He pounded into you, rolling his hips harder and faster, making you moan louder. Then everything snapped, you back arching, your mouth open in a silent scream of pure bliss.

Your pussy clamped down around his fingers and your ass squeezed his cock, and he let out a low groan, grinding deep into you as he came.

He found your lips again in a sweet kiss, brushing your sweaty hair back and keeping the both of you connected for a few moments longer. When you had come down from your high he slowly slid out of you, keeping an arm around you as you turned onto your side to cuddle against him.

The both of you just kept kissing, holding each other close, not wanting the moment to end.

He reached down and pulled the comforter over the both of you, tucking it around you. Elijah kissed the top of your head as he held you in his arms, his hands sliding all over your body, mapping it out in his head.

"Happy Birthday, Eli," you whispered softly, your cheek pressed to his shoulder.

His heart swelled and he smiled, his hold tightening on you, he loved hearing you call him that.

"Can I have another birthday wish?" he asked softly, running his hands over your body, holding you in a way that was almost possessive.

"Of course," you flushed with excitement as you waited to see what he was going to ask.

"Will you be mine?" He asked, holding your gaze and looking uncharacteristically nervous for a moment.

You were so overwhelmed by his request, but it only took you a moment to respond, "I am already, Eli, I've been yours for a long time," you assured him, and the words made him let out a breath he didn't know he was holding.

"I love you," he said, saying the words he never thought he'd say, feeling so much lighter now that he said them, and finally knowing what it meant to be with you.

"I love you, too," you felt a bit shy but couldn't hide the emotion in your voice.

He was relieved, burying his head in the crook of your neck.

You smile and laugh softly, running your fingers through his hair, massaging his scalp. He mumbles some incoherent words into your neck and you love the sound.

It felt good to be with him, like it was always meant to be.

♡♡ Tag-List ♡♡

♡ @gorgeouslydangerous ♡ @starkleila ♡ @lydia1369sworld ♡ @notleylaaa ♡ @vampiresluv ♡ @vamprium ♡ @myanmy ♡ @xflowerbombxo ♡ @maryvibess ♡ @always-and-forever-daydreaming ♡ @criminallminds ♡ @theesexystallion ♡ @rosemarypotion ♡ @spnaquakindgdom ♡ @amournoir ♡ @loving-and-dreaming ♡ @meeom ♡ @damienmorton ♡ @wickedmuse ♡ @sunkissedebony97 ♡ @idk00sblog

[storiesofoblivion]

hello tags! It's been a little while since I've been on here, but I'm ready to dive back into the writing scene and looking for some new writing partners on Discord! ♡ please only interact with me if you are 21 + only, also just a small fyi my activity can be a bit unpredictable depending on life stuff, but I’m always around to chat, plot, and create if I’m not writing!!! 

I’d love to brainstorm some MUMUs (small town, big big city, holiday resort, band, reality tv show, open for the options), but also happy to keep it small with a singular plot! i just want to get into musings, making some fun pinterest boards, playlists etc! i want all the angst, fluff, pain and smut. 

a few plots and tropes which I am begging for and some fcs are below, but i'm open to anything and everything!!! if you're interested, give this a like and i'll reach out or message me! ♡

yearning plot, I just watched the Industry and it gave me the need for a pair who love each other, they completely yearn for each other but they can't be together. if you want your heart to break, listen to the last goodbye by the kills. I have quite a few different thoughts for this, they meet when they're young and they yearn for each other, but life gets in the way and ultimately they don't end up together, they love each other but one of them choses the path which is right for them. We can have them go through the break up and then meet again years across the line where it’s a mix of vulnerability and guardedness as both muses confront their past, knowing that the connection they once had slipped through their fingers. There could be moments of warmth and nostalgia mixed with painful realisations about how much has changed. I just need the angst!!!!

the affair, they’re both trapped in unhappy relationships, finding solace in each other’s arms. But as the passion between them grows, so does the guilt and the looming sense that their affair will only lead to heartbreak—for everyone involved.

trapped in a marriage of convenience, they were never supposed to fall in love. Bound by a loveless marriage for political or financial reasons, one of them has secretly harboured feelings all along. Now, as tension rises and secrets unravel, those buried emotions threaten to tear them both apart.

divorced couple, they are always in each others lives, their is fighting, they can't escape, let's add kids to the mix for the coparenting 

the one who got away, this is slightly different to yearning because this couple aren't the same vibe it's a different font okay. They were madly in love in their early 20s, but life and ambition pulled them in different directions. Years later, they reconnect—both scarred from past relationships. There’s undeniable chemistry, but the fear of repeating history keeps them at a distance. Can they let go of their past mistakes and take a risk on love again, or are they doomed to drift apart once more?

the cost of fame, he’s an up-and-coming actor/musician etc, skyrocketing to fame, while she’s still living an ordinary life. They were high school sweethearts, but as his career takes off, the pressure of his public image and constant media attention start to tear their relationship apart. Will their love survive the world of flashing cameras and false rumours, or will fame turn him into someone she no longer recognises??? where will the angst take us??

fighter plot, after re-watching the creed I need a boxer plot so maybe something like in creed where is fighting his way to the top, but his girl can’t handle the fear of losing him to the sport etc 

a coffee shop meet-cute, or any meet-cute where it can be something like she's the regular at his coffee shop, always rushing in with a complicated order and a smile that lights up the place. He’s the barista who secretly gives her an extra shot of espresso to brighten her day. After months of shy glances and friendly small talk, a chance encounter outside of the café leads to a series of adorable, awkward dates full of laughs, misunderstandings, and the beginning of something real.

a classic holiday fake dating, one of them desperately needs a date for the family’s holiday reunion to avoid endless questions about their love life, so they convinces their co-worker (or best friend) to pretend to be their partner for the week. Cue romantic holiday moments, cute banter, and the unexpected realisation that maybe they’re not just pretending after all.

I just need anything that is enemies to lovers, anything that is friends to lovers, anything that is forbidden lovers, anything that is exes to lovers to exes again, give me the slowburn, just any of these tropes on repeat

i also do have a wanted plots tag which is here - this has not been updated in a while but i will always want these plots! 

some fcs i’ve been wanting to play or have has opposites are below, i'm not limited to them and open to any other options too!!! 

drew starkey

oliver jackson cohen 

paul mescal

harris dickinson 

milo ventimiglia

tom hardy

fabien frankel 

theo james

callum turner

dev patel 

josh o'connor

alexander skarsgard

boyd holbrook 

grace van patten

hannah dodd

phoebe dynevor

adria arjona

bruna marquezine 

aslihan malbora 

alisha boe

pinar deniz

taylor russell

greta onieogou 

lucy boynton

[lendeah]

After the Weave 2.

series masterlist

Summary: Astarion x OFC!Tav, past Gale x OFC!Tav

Pairing: Astarion x Fem!Tav, past Gale x Fem!Tav

Tags: Angst, Drinking to Cope, References to Depression, Eventual Fluff, Eventual Smut, Emotional Baggage, Unresolved Emotional Tension, Post-Break Up, Tav finds herself again with Astarion, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD.

Word count: 4.5k

Also on AO3

"Well, it is not as bad as I remembered" I tell Astarion, while entering the enormous stone arch of the entrance to the Crimson Palace. "It is so much worse. "

Astarion just laughed. "Always the optimist, aren't you?" His words were frosted with his typical humor, his voice smooth as velvet. "Would you prefer to return to your melancholic musing instead?"

I shot him a glare, but he ignored me as we stepped into the place that brought me so many bad memories. While it still looked like it did back in the day we came to beat Cazador. The ominous decoration that used to be dark, with crimson rugs and dark wooden floors, is now a bit more lively; vibrant paintings decorating the halls, flowers in every vase, and shelves full of books in every corner. The rugs are also changed to ones with different patterns of lively colors, like purple and orange. Overall, it feels like the house has become alive with Astarion's influence.

He takes me around, showing me every nook, even though I have been here before. As he moves ahead of me, I can't help but observe his changed appearance - his hair now falls just above his broad shoulders and his once sturdy frame now seems leaner, a result of the lack of physical activity we were subjected to in the past.

"This is the Kitchen, not that we use it a lot anyway" he continues, lively. As we come across the next hallway, a tall figure is already there, speaking to a servant. When she turns to face them, her face seems familiar. Then she remembers: she is one of Astarion's sisters, the one they met at the flophouse along with his brother. She stands tall, almost as tall as Astarion himself, with long, flowing blonde hair and the same bright red eyes. Her features are sharp, with high cheekbones and a pointed chin, giving her a regal and intimidating presence.

"Dalyria" Astarion greets her.

"Brother," She replies warmly, though she doesn't bother to hide the slight frown on her face. "You look exhausted as usual. Is everything alright? You know I can prepare you a replenishing potion should you be in need of one"

"That can wait" He replies nonchalantly. Then he turns to me. "Remember my dear friend, Elara?"

"Oh, I do recall. You freed us from Cazador." She replies, in a tone that's hard to place. There's genuine interest there - maybe a touch of amusement. There's also a degree of suspicion in the way she holds my gaze, though it seems less like she thinks I'm an enemy and more like she's studying me.

I smile. "That was me indeed."

"Then consider my thanks to you," she bows her head slightly, her expression still unreadable. "My brother has said much about you these past few weeks."

I turn to him in surprise, raising my eyebrows slightly "I wonder what my dear companion here has been talking behind my back" I retort.

Before Astarion can reply, Dalyria continues "There is indeed a great deal you might say about such a remarkable mage. My brother speaks only the highest praise of you, in fact." She gives me an appraising glance up and down before turning her attention back towards her brother." By the way, I have made some progress with the investigation, but it seems every time I find something new things get more complicated" she adds.

Astarion nods, serious for once. It must be something important then.

"I will come to your office when I finish with her " Astarion turns back to me, his smirk still in place. "Shall we continue our tour then? I believe you have yet to see her bedchamber." He offers his arm, gesturing towards the large double doors at the end of the hall. As he leads me ahead, I smile at her and add "It was nice to meet you again, Dalyria"

Dalyria nods politely in response before continuing down the hall. As we walk, I glance back at Astarion.

"So you've been speaking highly of me."

He laughs, the sound light and musical.

"Don't let it go to your head. I may have mentioned your name in passing once or twice."

"Uh-huh," I reply, unconvinced. "I thought all your siblings had gone to the Underdark to guide the vampire spawn."

"In fairness, most of them have" He replies as we reach a wooden door. At that, Astarion's expression grows serious, his playful demeanor fading. "Dalyria has proven herself invaluable in tracking down various threats and conspiracies against me. She is also investigating a private matter."

My fingers twitch nervously as I debate whether or not to pry further. Astarion's demeanor has shifted, becoming more open and approachable than the last time I saw him. "Have you... resolved your issues? With your siblings, I mean."

Astarion's expression darkens slightly at my question, and I immediately regret asking. But to my surprise, he answers nonetheless.

"Not entirely," he says with a sigh. "But we have come to an understanding of sorts. They still see me as a traitor, but they know that I am the reason they are free from Cazador."

I nod solemnly, understanding the weight of his words. As we continue walking down the hall, Astarion suddenly opens a set of carved wooden doors and gestures for me to enter. I step inside and find myself in a grand bedroom, with floor-to-ceiling shelves stacked with leatherbound books. The plush chairs and polished tables give off an air of elegance, while the fancy rugs and huge fireplace add a touch of warmth to the space. But what catches my eye is the enormous bed lying in the center of it all.

"Here's where you'll be staying," Astarion announces, waving his hand across the room. His voice is casual, but I notice an underlying tone of nervousness. Was he worried about my reaction? "I hope it's to your liking."

I stand in awe at the grandeur of the room, taking in every detail. "This is...amazingly excessive," I say, turning to look at Astarion with a smile.

That brings a smirk back to his face, and he shrugs languidly. "I've been told my tastes veer towards the extravagant. Feel free to make any changes you like."

I chuckle at that and then turn my attention towards the room once more. It is a beautiful space, with the kind of splendor I'd only ever seen in royal chambers. The walls are adorned with rich tapestries depicting various scenes from myths and legends. There are large windows draped with velvet curtains, closed to protect the inside from the morning sunlight.

Turning around, I approach a large painting hanging above the fireplace. It depicts a grand feast filled with all sorts of creatures - humans, elves, tieflings, orcs, and what looked like demons? A strange choice for decoration but it was beautifully painted nonetheless.

"So, what's next?" I ask curiously.

Astarion pushed himself off the doorframe "Take your time to cool off, darling. We can meet for lunch later, and I'll fill you in on the juicy details then."

I nod and turn again. This feels like way too much, but I guess that's how it always is with Astarion. I decide to go to the on-suite bathroom first and take a moment to freshen up. The bathroom holds a mirror that spans one entire wall and a sunken tub, already filled with hot water, steaming gently. I shed my used clothes, leaving them in a messy pile on the marble floor as I step into the warm bath. The heat envelopes me, soothing my tired muscles.

I lean back against the edge of the bath, closing my eyes and letting out a quiet sigh. This life here is far from the humid and dirty basement I was living in. All the luxuries make me feel out of place. But then again, perhaps this is Astarion's world now – a world of elegance and intrigue where I was merely a guest.

After what feels like hours, I rise from the bath, wrapping myself in one of the plush towels. As I open the closet, my mouth falls open. It's full to the brim with fancy expensive clothing. My hand reaches to trail along the vests, and I decide to settle for a green soft dress, light to the touch. I retouch my hair, placing the crazy black strands in a long high braid. Then I get out, crossing different halls to reach the dining room. The table has been set, and a lavish spread of mouth-watering dishes sits before me. It smells divine, the aroma wafting in the air enough to make my stomach growl.

From across the room, I spot Astarion leaning casually against a pillar, dressed in a scarlet silk shirt that matches his eyes and a pair of fitted black trousers. His shiny white hair falls in elegant curls around his face and he looks absolutely captivating.

"Enjoy your bath?" he asks as I approach, his eyes twinkling with amusement. He still has his usual smug confidence, it seems.

I give a slight nod and shrug nonchalantly, "It was nice, thank you," I admit trying to match his tone. He grins at me before taking a seat at the head of the table and gesturing to the one right next to him.

"Please, help yourself," Astarion says with a wave of his hand, gesturing towards the food.

There's a variety of dishes laid out before us – a hearty-lookingfreshly beef stew, roasted vegetables, a platter of assorted cheeses, and fresh baked bread. I wonder why he brought so much food when I am the only one able to enjoy it.

Astarion pours out two glasses; one of dark red wine for me and what I assume is blood for him.

As I eat, I decide to break the comfortable silence we've settled into "So, what was this urgent matter with the spawn that led you to seek my help".

Astarion smiles, sipping on his wine before answering "Well, as it turns out, taking care of 7000 spawn lurking in the Underdark and city sewers is not an easy task. Less so when they absolutely despise you for being the reason they are there in the first place" He smiles, but it's strained, the lines of his face terse "That's the short of it."

"And what's the long version?" I ask.

"So, it seems the city has become quite the popular destination for disappearances. And how fortunate for us, some have turned up deceased with bite marks adorning their bodies. My intuition leads me to believe they may be the work of a recently escaped group of spawns. They've always had a particular appetite for the finer things in life, so perhaps now they've developed an appetite for humans. Can you blame them? After being cooped up for so long, I'm sure they're craving something new and exciting." He rolls his eyes. "Also, providing for them has been proven not only difficult but also incredibly expensive. Even with Cazador's fortune at our disposition." he adds "And the spawn themselves are no help. They're like petulant children, and I mean that quite literally. With Cazador dead and a thousand-plus years of confinement gone to waste, they are utterly lost. Most of them are refusing to eat at all. Others are gorging themselves into an animalistic state. It's like I'm trying to corral feral cats, only the cats all have sharp teeth, claws, and a deep hatred of me"

I nod, processing the words "And how do you think I could help you solve all of this?"

"Well, I'm not asking you to solve it. I'm asking you to help me manage it" He replies, leaning forward.

I raise an eyebrow, "And why come to me for help? Surely there are others who are more experienced in dealing with such creatures."

Astarion smirks, "Because my dear, you have a unique set of skills that I believe could be quite useful in this situation. And besides, I trust you. You've proven yourself to be quite resourceful and adaptable during our time together. Your ability to handle conflicts with diplomacy has always been evident. People listen to you, follow you, even to deathly war battles." he takes a long sip of his wine "I believe that you can use that charisma to our advantage. So many of Cazador's old allies have been fleeing our side, with his recent death and my new situation as a vampire spawn no longer being so... secretive. If we could show we still had allies of importance on our side, I believe it would turn our whole situation around. We could win their respect enough to earn their aid once again."

"So you want me to manipulate them so they will give us more money to waste on some wild murderous spawn living in the Underdark?" I raise a skeptical eyebrow.

"That is precisely what I'm asking you to do." His lips curl up into a mocking smirk as he continues, "But don't worry, darling, I'm not suggesting that you outright lie to them. No, no, just use your considerable charm and cunning to sway them our way." He shrugs nonchalantly. "And as for the 'wild murderous spawn', well, some of them are actually quite decent. They're just experiencing the same struggles we are. It's a shame really."

I sigh "Yeah, I kind of get that," I whisper, more to myself than him.

"That's all I ask," Astarion purrs, his crimson eyes glinting mischievously. "Just a few measly balls, charming the pants off of every noble in attendance, you know, basically your expertise. Just..." He pauses, exhaling dramatically before locking eyes with me again. "I need to make sure I do things right for them this time. It's the least they deserve, after what I did."

My heart swells with emotion at this unexpected change in him. His demeanor is so... different. So strikingly mature and selfless. It's a stark contrast to the old Astarion, who only ever had eyes for his selfish desires.

I take a moment to compose myself before responding, "Astarion, it wasn't your fault. You didn't know Cazador was keeping them alive." I say, reaching to touch his arm, his skin as cold as I remembered, "and you were going through a lot of pain too." I whisper softly.

Astarion freezes as my hand touches his arm, his eyes drifting away from mine and towards the bottle of wine. He looks back up at me for a moment, his mouth twitching slightly. "I was a tool of Cazador, yes," Astarion continues. "But I also...I had my own part in it." His voice is barely a whisper now, tinged with regret. "I condemned them to an eternal darkness, gave them false hope, and then took it away from them."

"But you're trying to change that now," I tell him, my voice soft but determined. "You're doing what you can to help them. That's worth something. And we will help them. Together."

Astarion's expression softens, and for a moment, I see a glimpse of vulnerability in his eyes before he quickly masks it with a smirk. "Oh, darling, you always know just what to say." He leans back in his chair, his fingers absentmindedly tracing the rim of his wine glass."Well..." he continues, as if he had never just gotten so close to breaking down as he did "it sounds like we have a lot of work to do, don't we?" He leans over to refill my glass, a smile on his lips. "You know, in hindsight, it might have been a mistake to call you here for a job offer. You are looking exceptionally... inviting in that outfit. Very seductive, if I may be so bold" He adds, giving me a sly smirk.

I roll my eyes, taking my hand off him. "Keep dreaming, bloodsucker."

Astarion lounges in his chair, a devilish twinkle dancing in his eyes. "But my dear, let's not forget all those indulgent moments we shared together when you let me feed from you? I know you really enjoyed those" He leans closer, voice dripping with honeyed seduction. "Perhaps we should revisit those blissful days, hm?"

I chuckle, shaking my head. "No chance in hell, Astarion." I take a sip of wine to hide the slight tremor in my hand at his words. Memories of our past together flood my mind, and I can feel his fangs piercing my skin, the pain quickly giving way to a pleasure unlike any other. His hands, surprisingly gentle for someone with such sharp teeth, traced every curve of my body with a tenderness that both thrilled and terrified me.

"Oh, my sweet, you must be craving for some excitement after all these dull months without that wizard's touch." He purrs, his fingers brushing against the back of my hand.

The mention of Gale sends a pang through my heart, but I quickly push it aside and retrieve my arm. "You know very well that's not what I'm here for," I respond firmly.

He chuckles, placing his hand over his heart mockingly. "My apologies, my dear," he says with a hint of sarcasm. "I'll try not to let old feelings get in the way."

I take a deep breath and rise from my seat "Now if you'll excuse me," I say as I stretch languidly, "I am going to get acquaintance with my bed."

I turn to leave, but not before I feel his cool hand on my wrist again. "Wait..." he says, not meeting my eyes. "Thank you. For everything. For listening and for agreeing to help. I...I appreciate it."

His words catch me off guard, but I manage a small smile. "It's what friends do, Astarion. We help each other out."

His grip on my wrist tightens for a moment before he releases it. "Yes...friends, of course..." he murmurs, looking up at me with an unreadable expression before I turn away.

Walking down the long carpeted hallway towards my quarters, I think about what Astarion said. About the spawn, their situation, and how he wants me to help. It's a lot to take in. But then again, what part of my life isn't overwhelming these days?

"I don't want to dance" I whine "I hate dancing. Is it truly necessary?" I say while Astarion leads me to the ballroom.

The past few weeks had been a whirlwind of preparation for the next ball, which happened to be the next day. Astarion had taken it upon himself to teach me every name and position of every attendee possible, filling my head with endless information. He had also taught me protocol and manners, deeming my behavior akin to that of a "savage in elegant attire." My days had been consumed with a routine of endless studying and fancy dinners with the vampire. It was a welcome distraction from the haunting nightmares that plagued my sleep again. Also, living with him hadn't been as bad as I had anticipated, as he seemed more relaxed and mature than all those months ago- in fact, it was quite nice having someone to talk to and spend time with after so much time.

Adjusting my sleeping schedule from night to day had also been strange. However, my tired body and mind gratefully embraced the break from the unrelenting cycle of stress and sleepless nights. To my surprise, I didn't find myself constantly thinking about ale like I thought I would, as my mind was preoccupied with endless details and plans instead.

Despite the improvements, I had been absolutely dreading the moment I had to learn how to dance, as I was well aware of my terrible lack of skill in that area. I had tried to convince Astarion out of it for weeks but to no avail.

"Yes, it's absolutely necessary," the vampire answers without missing a beat. "You're not going to convince anyone of anything if you're standing around like a wallflower." He grins at me with that infuriatingly charming smirk of his. "Besides, you might enjoy it. Dancing is a lot like battle. There's strategy involved, lots of footwork, and the right partner can make all the difference." he ends with a wink.

I huff in response. "I'd rather fight a horde of goblins than dance in front of snotty aristocrats," I grumble under my breath. But I know there's no point in arguing. Astarion has made up his mind, and he's as stubborn as they come.

The empty ballroom is splendid, bathed in the warm glow of numerous chandeliers that cast prismatic rainbows across the polished marble floor.

"You can't be serious, Astarion," I say, turning to face him with pleading eyes. "I have two left feet. There's no way I can possibly learn how to dance in one night."

He simply raises an eyebrow at me before gesturing towards an empty corner of the room.

"Luckily for you, my dear," he says with a smirk, "I happen to be quite skilled in dancing."

Before I can protest any further, he takes my hand and leads me over to the center, as soft ballroom music starts playing. Astarion moves me through the steps slowly at first. We stand close together, his hand finding mine while the other rests on my waist. I swallow nervously as he guides me through steps I can hardly remember.

"Relax," he murmurs, his voice soothing. "You're thinking too much."

"You're stepping on my feet too much," I retort.

"The key is to let the music guide you," he says as we begin to move. "Feel the rhythm in every part of your being. Imagine you are fighting – you must anticipate their next move."

His smile widens, and he squeezes my hand, moving us into a gentle twirl. "You're looking majorly exquisite tonight." He whispers in my ear, his low voice sending tingles up and down my spine. I gulp, he always knew how to make me nervous. I try to distract myself by centering my attention on the task at hand.

The dance is simple enough: a few simple steps across the floor, then a twirl, then stepping back to begin another turn. At first, I struggle to follow his rhythm, but Astarion guides me with ease, our bodies moving in unison. I soon begin to relax, letting him lead me as we glide across the floor.

"I must admit, there are few things that you are skilled at. But dancing certainly isn't one of them." Astarion adds, his tone playful.

I raise an eyebrow at him but don't bother responding. Instead, I focus on moving more smoothly across the floor as he leads. I slowly begin to learn the pattern of the dance, and I find I am enjoying myself more and more as we move together. I smile slightly despite myself, and as we twirl once more, I notice how close we are. Our bodies are almost touching, dancing slowly and rhythmically together. It has been months since I have been this close to someone, and it makes me feel a little guilty to think about Gale like I am betraying him somehow.

Astarion doesn't seem to notice my discomfort, or perhaps he's purposefully ignoring it. He leads me through a few more steps, this time slightly faster and more complex, but I'm able to follow his rhythm easily. "Have you had many partners on the dance floor?" he asks after a few moments, his voice low and soothing.

I smile slightly out of breath "Well, you know Gale wasn't keen on dancing, so no. You have the honor of being my first"

Astarion pauses in the middle of a step, glancing up at me with a sly grin. "Oh really? I didn't realize I had such a special privilege" He twirls me around so I'm facing away from him, and then pulls me back in so our bodies are almost touching again. "It seems I should be thanking you instead of the other way around"

I roll my eyes "Well, I haven't thanked you, actually."

He smirks at me, his eyes glinting in the candlelight. "No, I suppose you haven't." He leans in close, his voice low and quiet, "Maybe you should fix that."

, his voice soft against my skin causing a shiver to crawl down my spine. I look up at him, our faces inches apart. My breath catches and my pulse quickens slightly. His eyes hold a certain level of mischief that has me both exhilarated and scared all at once. It's a feeling I have associated with Astarion since the day we met.

"Maybe I should," I murmur back in response, trying to sound as nonchalant as possible. But I can see the glimmer in his eyes that tells me he knows just how much he's affecting me. And of course, he wouldn't be Astarion if he didn't take advantage of the situation.

His hand slides down from my waist to the small of my back, pulling me closer. His thumb brushes against the exposed skin there, sending waves of goosebumps along my body. He leans in even closer until our noses are almost touching.

"But then again," he whispers, his breath warm against my lips."What would Gale think of this? He wouldn't be thankful for me touching you like this, would he?"

His words hit me like a bucket of icy water, pulling me back to reality. I pull back abruptly, stumbling slightly as I detach myself from Astarion's grasp.

"I—I don't know," I stutter, my cheeks hot. His words have stirred a pot of emotions within me, his charm ensnaring me in a moment that felt too intimate, too personal. Memories of Gale flood my consciousness, his soft voice, the way he looked at me with his big brown eyes. He asked me to marry him, to wait for him. Suddenly, dancing with Astarion feels so wrong.

His eyes narrow slightly as he studies me, not saying a word as he waits for me to gather my thoughts. "Look Astarion," I finally say, my voice barely above a whisper. "If you want this deal to work, you have to stop that. It is enough for me to get over my breakup, I can't deal with you play flirting around me all day."

Astarion raises an eyebrow at my response, a devious smirk playing on his lips. He leans back against the edge of a table casually, crossing his arms. It is as if we were simply discussing the weather.

"I'll keep that in mind. But don't worry, I won't push my luck again." He lifts his hand in surrender, trying to lighten the mood. I can feel that he's not done yet. My fear is not in his attempts, but in my own weakness to resist him again. Can I keep saying no?

Despite the situation, I can't help but smile at his casual demeanor. There's something about Astarion's wit that reminds me of my old self.

"In that case," I say after a moment of contemplation, "Thank you, Astarion. For the dance and your...guidance."

"There it is," he smiles "Good girl. I knew you would make it."

Our playful banter is abruptly halted by a servant, who clears his throat discreetly as they cross the opulent room.

"Mr. Ancunín," he addresses Astarion with a slight bow, "I have been instructed to deliver a missive intended for our esteemed guest."

Astarion motions for the man to approach and looks at me, with an unreadable expression in his eyes. But I am unable to tear my gaze away from the piece of parchment paper in his hands. As he draws closer, I can see the familiar handwriting scrawled across it, causing my breath to catch in my throat.

It is Gale's handwriting.

[theopulenthq]

Though many are still feelings the affects from the night of dancing the night away at the Memoriam Ball the night before, there was no slowing the flurry of activity that would overwhelm the Mughal Palace bright && early the next morning. Those who had chosen to stay out enjoying the stragglers && last moments of fun until the wee early dawn hours would surely be feeling regret as they received the last, less desired bits of breakfast... but no one was quite ready for the announcement that was delivered to the dining hall at 11am sharp.

Each guest must subject themselves to a confidential interview with the Sharma advisory staff.

While the royal family && staff assured everyone this was only to gather information for the investigation and gain a more complete understanding as a third party facilitator, some wondered what had given the Mughal Empresses such authority over them all? It was announced that, just like the rest of the guests, each member of the royal Sharma family must also fill out the same report, in good faith.

Each head of household receives an appointment slip with interview times listed for each family member, and they are told if anyone does not cooperate... well, it certainly won't look good. Find the ooc details below.

This is a highly encouraged but optional task. If you choose not to participate, it may make it harder for the admins to include your muse, and their political leanings, in later plot drops, but not impossible! This can be completed at any time.

Everything that is said within this task will become usable information for the admin team to use in future plot drops. No harm will come to your character without permission, though!

Be as brief or as in-depth as you'd like. The content for this questionnaire is that your character is being interviewed privately by an NPC member of the Mughal Court. A single sentence or multiple paragraphs are both perfectly acceptable, whatever the muse dictates.

Please tag your tasks with theopulent.task && tag the main blog in your post, if you choose to post them. Otherwise, submit your task here. Public posting is highly encouraged to help inspire plots and connections!!

At this point - you may continue threads from the Grand Memoriam but should not start any new threads. For new threads, they may take place from the morning after up to a few days after the interviews (around 3-4 days in game).

FILL OUT THE INTERVIEW BELOW TO COMPLETE THIS TASK.

Hello, can you please tell me your name, country, && what role you provide your court? And who do you believe to be your closest allies, either nations or individuals? Do you trust your allies? Ah, yes, I see... how about your enemies, then. Who do you not align yourself with, and why? Interesting. Do you have a personal vendetta against any of the courts, or even individuals, here? What are your thoughts on the mysterious deaths in so many royal families? How do you feel about the system of monarchy as a whole? So, what would be your best theory as to what is going on, then? Thank you for your time. Is there anything else you'd like to add, anything else that would be useful to the investigation?

[thedarkone121]

Shower Thoughts Regarding A Crack Pairing I’m Slowly Coming Around To

I am back on my BS and ramblings for story ideas. Will I write? Maybe. We’ll see how my muse and the future looks. But for now, let’s see me ramble on about the crack pairing that I’m slowly taking seriously that I thought of when I was in the shower.

So, I have been in a new fandom that’s just recently released its fourth season in Mandarin: MONKIE KID! Amazing show, love the animation, story arcs, and characters. MK is now a character I want to protect and put through the ringer at the same time. And he is one of my main subjects for this post.

Next, I am also in uh... Fandom that is known for its discourse in a few of its tags. Mo Dao Zu Shi... Alright, no more beating around the bush. I do love the story and the characters. I think having TONS of morally grey characters in one setting is amazing because it really forces you to think. That said, I do not enjoy seeing all of that discourse in the Jiang Cheng tags. Like, for the love of Pete, let people enjoy what they do and don’t like about a character! Don’t go on this whole martyr thing on who’s right and wrong! It’s a fictional story we all enjoy!

Very sorry to all the Monkie Kid fans who are stumbling upon this, by the way.

Now, I’m sure you’re all wondering why I am talking about these two surprisingly different fandoms. Well, it all started with a shower. Now, I am not the type to think of story ideas while I shower. Those mostly come from running to my destination or having a back and forth between with one of my buddies. However, I had an idea sprung up upon me when I was enjoying my shower.

MK getting in a relationship with my MDZS OC, Jin Yuehua, Jin Ling’s twin sister.

What spark this idea, you may ask?

Well, for the most part, it came from the realization that a Monkie Kid and MDZS crossover could work out. They both tell stories that are set in China. Just think of some time/dimension portal for plot’s sake and we got ourselves a crossover.

The tiny part that prompted this? It’s the idea of Jin Yuehua and MK visiting the other’s world and seeing each other like one of those sneak-out-the-window dates.

And just like that, I was done for.

The more I thought about this idea, the less it became a crack ship for me. I just think these two together is sweet and I love the parallels of Jiang Yanli’s own daughter falls in love with a himbo of her own. Though — to people who are in both fandoms — we all agree that MK is way better than Jin Zixuan when it comes to a first impression 😆

And, yeah. I don’t know what else I want to say. I would like to add in more but I think the fact I don’t have a lot of Jin Yuehua’s own story out there on my Tumblr is really preventing me from going into the details of her and MK’s relationship. Maybe I’ll post a few out-of-context pictures of them together and slowly make most about what would be Jin Yuehua’s role in the canon of MDZS.

We’ll see. Until then, I hope everyone has good day of just enjoying fandoms. Ya got that, discourse?

[radicalrascals]

The Adventurous Pathologist

Original Character | FC: Clemens Schick

Threads | Headcanons | Aesthetics | Open Starters

NAME: Felix Lilienthal

AGE: late 40s

SPECIES: human

PROFESSION: forensic pathologist

Short Bio

Son of a West-German diplomat, Felix grew up in a wealthy and priviledged household, and what his parental home lacked in emotional warmth he sought to compensate with excessive partying, exploring himself sexually and experimenting with illegal substances. It was in his uni days that an old fling presented him with their 3 year old daughter Mia. At a moment's notice Felix decided to finae grow up, for Mia's sake. A decision her mother never took, leading Felix to fight for sole custody.

After graduating he took Mia and moved with her to the US in his early 30s. He works as a forensic pathologist, suddenly finding himself with a lot of free time at his hands now that his 20-something daughter has spread her wings and moved out.

Addendum for the Supernatural verse

Felix was inaugurated into the supernatural world by his ancestor, a vampire by the name of Leopold Grimm. Felix works with hunters, informing them of any unnatural supernatural deaths. Yet despite working with the perceived enemy, he's respected by the supernatural community as their ally; especially by the undead.

Relationships

Theo Matos > [Tag] | [Ship]

Playlist

Rock Me Amadeus by Falco from Falco 3 (1985)

I Was Made For Lovin' You by Kiss from Dynasty (1979)

20th Century Boy by T. Rex from Tanx (1973)

Love Is Like Oxygen by The Sweet from Level Headed (1978)

Rock You Like A Hurricane by Scorpions from Love at First Sting (1984)

Detailed Profile

FULL NAME: Dr. Felix Robert Lilienthal

KNOWN AS: Felix Lilienthal

NICKNAMES: Fe, Lily (if you wanna get punched in the throat)

~~~~~~~~~~~~

SPECIES: human

RESIDENCE: somewhere in the USA

PROFESSION: forensic pathologist

~~~~~~~~~~~~

AGE: late 40s

DATE OF BIRTH: September 18th

PLACE OF BIRTH: Washington, DC, USA

NATIONALITY: German-American

~~~~~~~~~~~~

PARENTS: Margarethe Lilienthal & Walther Lilienthal (†)

CHILD: Mia Herzog (daughter)

PET: Macheath (ginger tomcat)

ANCESTOR: Leopold Grimm

~~~~~~~~~~~~

FACE CLAIM: Clemens Schick

HEIGHT: 5ft 8 (1.76m)

NOTABLE FEATURES: several tattoos on his arms and chest

STYLE: tba

~~~~~~~~~~~~

LANGUAGES: German (native), English (native), French (passable), Latin (broken), Ancient Greek (broken)

SPEECH MANNERISM: even though he grew up bilingual, there is a certain German tint to his English pronunciation that he can't shake. Felix can sometimes appear a bit taciturn as he prefers to only say something if it adds value, though if he likes someone, he can get quite chatty. He also cusses like a sailor.

STRENGTHS: Felix' main strength comes from being good at his job; he also has an open mind and a thirst for adventure and learning; and he makes an effort to look after the people he cares about

WEAKNESSES: has crippling stage fright and hates speaking in front of an audience (making him die a little inside before every court hearing); though usually calm and collected, if provoked or threatened Felix won't shy away from violence; he's overly emotional while often struggling to express himself

INTERESTS: Felix likes to try and experience new things; from food to places to obscure sports, he loves the unfamiliar and gets easily bored with the ever same hobbies. He does however seek consistency with people; making friends for life.

VICES: occasional smoker, recreationally smokes weed sometimes as well

~~~~~~~~~~~~

NSFW

Felix is romantically and sexually attracted to men, and incredibly loyal and caring. Growing up in a household devoid of any real emotion left Felix struggling - even as a grown adult - to express his emotions despite feeling so very deeply.

Bonus points for muses with the following face claims: Wagner Moura & Renato Schuch

[hollyethecurious]

CS AU: Conviction (7/?)

Summary: The story had been front page news for months. Scandalous details of a married woman of low birth and with limited means, murdering her husband; hatcheting him to death in order to save her own life and that of her unborn child - or so she claimed. No evidence to support her allegations of abuse had been presented during the trial, but in the end, it was the fact that Mrs. Cassidy was with child that saved her from a verdict of murder in the first degree, a judgment that carried the death penalty for both men and women alike. As an act of mercy, a lesser charge was issued, one that spared her life but now made her Misthaven Penitentiary’s problem to contend with, and more specifically, the Captain of the Guard charged with keeping order within its walls.

A/N:  Sorry for the delay. The muse has no been very cooperative as of late, so I’m afraid I cannot promise that this will maintain the regular updating schedule I had intended it to. Rest assured, it will continue to update, as I am very much committed to finishing it. I just can’t promise when or how often those updates will be moving forward. I hope y’all understand and will be patient with me.

Thanks to my amazing betas, @snowbellewells and @kmomof4. Also, shout out to @sotangledupinit for the assist in defringing Killian for the art.

Rated T-M (for themes, mentions of abuse, murder, and attempted assault) / Available on ao3 and ff.net /  buy me a coffee / add to tag list  

Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three | Chapter Four | Chapter Five | Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Winter was keeping a firm grip on Misthaven. The prison’s coal and wood supplies were becoming critical and all excursions out of doors had been suspended. Elsa had managed to convince the Warden to allow Emma supervised strolls along the interior of the jail, arguing that now, more than ever, she needed to keep up her strength.

At first, she was capable of walking the entirety of the block, mimicking the path the guards took on their patrols. However, her recent difficulty in maneuvering the stairs, as well as some of the looks and comments from certain inmates that Killian was either informed of by his officers or overheard firsthand, had made it necessary to keep her exercise confined to the upper Officers’ Hall.

He knew she was going stir crazy - Elsa called it nesting - seemingly incapable of settling down and resting. Killian had lost count of the number of times Swan had requested assistance in rearranging the furnishing in her cell, or how many times he himself had been tasked with reorganizing the wardrobe and trunk, shuffling the blankets, nappies, booties, and layettes in new configurations, only to have the final outcome be the same as when they started. If the approaching snowstorm turned out to be as significant as the town suspected it would be, then she would have not only his cooperation, but that of the entire guard staff at her disposal until the worst of it passed.

The whole of Misthaven could sense it, could practically smell it in the air and identify it in the clouds building on the ocean horizon over the past few days. The denizens had begun their precautions, stocking up on supplies and fortifying their homes in preparation of the gusts and gales, the snowy drifts, and the freezing temperatures. Similar actions had been taken at the prison as well, with the added edict that beginning today, all officers and their captain would be remaining at the prison around the clock to ensure shifts were covered and additional manpower was on hand to aid in any unforeseen complications the storm might bring with it.

Killian deposited his duffle on the cot he’d assigned himself, careful not to disturb those who had come off the day shift and were attempting to sleep while the opportunity was afforded to them. Making his way back into the prison proper, he took the stairs two at a time, eager to check in with Robin. He’d gotten caught up helping Granny with some final tasks before leaving the boarding house, and had then stopped by his brother’s, looking in on him and Elsa to ensure they had all they needed. Fat flakes had already begun to fall, with blustering winds making the trek to the prison a much more tedious and time consuming affair than it typically was, which meant Killian was now nearly two hours late in reporting for his shift. Fortunately, that meant the evening roll had already been called and the lanterns dimmed, prompting the inmates towards slumber and giving the guards a bit of respite before the overnight patrols began.

“I was beginning to think I’d have to send out a search party for you.” Robin was waiting for him in his office, standing at the threshold with documents in hand that would give a full account of the day shift and any matters of which he would need to be apprised - though Killian knew his second in command would simply give him the highlights.

Unable to keep himself from glancing over, Killian cast his eyes towards Swan’s cell. All was quiet. A fire was gently crackling, keeping the chill at bay, while Emma appeared cocooned in a swarm of blankets, her golden hair barely visible upon her pillow. If they were fortunate, the worst of the storm wouldn’t make land for a few hours yet, allowing her the much needed rest she required in these final days. Not that she was having much success in that regard, given her babe was set to arrive any time now, according to Elsa.

“Apologies,” Killian offered in response to Robin’s quip, taking the documents from his hand and gesturing inside for the man to sit so they might debrief one another.

An hour later, Killian ran his hand through his hair, then scrubbed it down his face.

“Not good news, I take it?” Robin inquired.

Killian had been reviewing the post while his second reported on the inventory of their stores.

“It seems Walsh found himself a post at Glowerhaven Penal Colony,” Killian informed Robin, a knot of discontent tightening in his gut at the memory of their former officer.

“Not sure I see that as bad news,” Robin commented with a dose of cheek. “Glowerhaven is notoriously merciless to both the inmates and guards alike. Such a post couldn’t happen to a more deserving fellow, if you ask me.”

“Aye,” Killian agreed. “But he has somehow managed to work his way up the ranks and now holds the position of captain, which means he has the power to object petitions of transfer.”

Robin groaned with fresh understanding. “Teach,” he said. “He has blocked Teach’s transfer.”

Since Emma’s arrival, and especially after the Board’s decision that her child should remain with her after its birth, Killian had been systematically arranging the transfers of Misthaven’s more ruthless and hardened inmates. Wishing to curate a less hostile atmosphere for both the mother and soon to arrive infant, inmates who had expressed any negative, derogatory, or threatening attitudes towards her had been added to a list of transfer submitted to the Board. Edward Teach, a brutalizer of women and convicted murderer of several prostitutes, was not the last of the dissidents that remained within the prison, but he was certainly the worst. Killian had hoped to ship him off to Glowerhaven, however, with Walsh’s knowledge of the man (and his own animosity held towards Misthaven and her Captain), it appeared they would be stuck with Teach for the foreseeable future.

Releasing a heavy sigh, Killian pulled out his pocket watch while attempting to forget the subject of both Walsh and Teach for the time being. “Shall we go down and make ourselves a pot before starting patrol?” Killian suggested, pocketing his watch and standing from his desk.

Before either man could move towards the closed door of his office, a faint sound pricked their ears, causing them to share a similarly perplexed look and furrowed brow.

“Did you hear that?”

Killian shushed his second when the sound - which could only be described as the muffled wail of a banshee - echoed through the outer corridor once more.

“C-Captain!” the garbled cry rang out, prompting both Killian and Robin out of the office. Swinging the door wide, Killian was met with the sight of Emma, clinging onto the bars of her cell. Her knuckles were white and her face was beet red, covered in a sheen of perspiration as another cry sounded from her lungs, his own name carried on the desperate wail.

“K-Killian!”

Rushing across the hall, he heard a splash of liquid hit the floor and Emma’s head snapped up, her eyes wide and fearful as they glanced down at the puddle she was now standing in.

“The b-baby,” she stammered. “He’s coming.”

Her eyes darted back up, meeting his with a desperate plea as a shuddering breath left her lungs. Forcing his own anxiety down, Killian peeled her hands from the bars and placed them in the firm grip of his own.

“Robin,” he instructed, never taking his eyes off Emma. “Send someone to fetch Elsa, then wake whomever you need to help cover the shift. Have all the spare lanterns brought up to Swan’s cell, as well as additional buckets of water for boiling.”

The quick retreat of Robin’s boots was all the acknowledgement Killian needed to assure him his orders were being carried out. Giving her hands a quick squeeze, Killian released them so he could fish her cell key from his pocket.

“What… What are you doing?” Emma asked, eyes still wide and panicked.

“Well, first,” Killian began, stepping into the cell and making his way over to her bathing corner so he could procure a towel, “I’m going to wipe this up, lest you slip and fall. Then, I--”

“But you can’t be in here!”

Killian left the towel to soak up the start of Emma’s labors and stood to face her. “Do you not want me in here?” he asked, realizing he may have been presumptuous in his actions. “If it is your wish for me to go, then I will, Swan. I only want to offer whatever comfort and support I can whilst we wait for--”

“What will Liam say when he finds you in here?” The hysteria in her voice reverberated through the room and trembled down her body. “He’s already separated us once. P-Please don’t give him reason to--”

“Emma,” Killian soothed, gripping her upper arms firmly and taking command of her gaze so she could see the sincerity within his eyes. “I promise, you have nothing to fear in that regard. Your focus ought to be on yourself and the babe, and as far as I am concerned,” reaching up, he cupped her cheek, brushing it softly with the pad of his thumb, making her eyelids flutter shut. “Until Elsa arrives, and just for tonight, I’ll be taking my orders from you.” Her eyes flew open, staring up at him with incredulity. “So, if it is your wish that I not be here, then--”

“No,” she protested, grabbing onto his arm as if to stop him leaving, though he had made no attempt to do so. “No, please. I want you to stay.” Her grip tightened as her features twisted in pain, an anguished moan escaping her lips as she cried, “Please don’t leave me!”

Killian adjusted his stance so she could brace herself against his forearms, his own fear and uncertainty spiking. While he had been privy to conversations she and Elsa had during their strolls in regards to labor, gleaning knowledge that few men possessed, it had done little to adequately prepare him for this moment. As much as the offer to relinquish command had been motivated by a desire that she feel some measure of control amidst the chaos of her emotions, it was also prompted by the fact that Killian had no bloody idea what to do. All he did know was Elsa had stressed to Emma the importance of keeping calm, saving her strength, and breathing.

“I’m not going anywhere,” Killian assured her, swallowing his fear and setting his resolve. “I’ll stay right by your side for as long as you wish me to remain.”

Emma nodded her understanding, her eyes clamped tightly shut and her face pinched from the pain. When her reddened complexion deepened, Killian realized she was holding her breath.

“Remember what Elsa said, love,” Killian coached. “Keep breathing. Breathe through the pain.”

A shuddering breath left her lungs and she swayed slightly, prompting Killian to wrap an arm around her in order to keep her steady. When the pain subsided, she took a deeper, cleansing breath and glanced up at him.

“Promise me you'll stay.”

A soft smile lifted the corners of his lips. “I promise.”

They stood there for several moments, staring into one another’s eyes until the sound of footsteps echoed from down the hall. Killian’s Adam’s apple bobbed as he relaxed his hold on her, and she stepped away when the officers came into view.

“We’ve brought the lanterns and another bucket of water, Captain.”

Killian waved them in so they could set the provisions where instructed, then turned his attention back to Emma.

“How are you feeling? Do you… do you want to sit? Lie down? Do you need anything? Can I--”

She took his hand and gave him a soft smile of her own, one tinged with an amused sort of pity. “I think,” she began, her other hand rubbing her abdomen as she looked about and contemplated her choices. Returning her gaze to his, she asked, “Could we walk for a bit? I think I’d like to keep moving. Perhaps a stroll down the Officers’ Hall? Would that be all right?”

“I told you, Swan,” he replied. “You give the orders tonight, so if it is a stroll you desire, then a stroll you shall have.” Removing his hand from hers, he crooked his elbow and offered her his arm, then cheeked, “Shall we promenade, my lady?”

Her cheeks pinked and a wide smile spread across her face before she demurely dipped her head and threaded her arm through his. “We shall, good sir.”

~/~

Wind howled and blustered against the stone walls, its icy whisper creeping in through every crack and crevice. The window at the far end of the Officers’ Hall was the only view Killian had to the maelstrom whipping a frenzy outside the prison, but it paled in comparison to the tempest raging on the inside.

Four months into her incarceration, Killian felt he had come to know Swan rather well, but as the hours and her labor progressed, he had witnessed a side of her he had never imagined. At first, she seemed to welcome his attempts to comfort her, grateful for the murmured words of encouragement as he kneaded the knots in her lower back whenever a labor pang took hold. However, at some point in the past hour her attitude had shifted, and his voice was now the very last sound she wished to hear and his touch was just as unwelcome.

Not that he blamed her for these wild swings of emotion. The excruciating work of labor glistened over her skin in beads of perspiration and could be felt in the bone crushing grip of her hand, to say nothing of the guttural moans and wails of pure agony that left Killian feeling more helpless and desperate with each passing contraction.

The only consolations were that as the pains intensified that meant the end was drawing nearer, and… he was not the only one suffering from her sudden change of temperament. He would not deny the satisfaction, nor the sheer pride he’d felt when, during one of her more recent contractions, Teach had bellowed a nasty edict that she keep her whore mouth shut, only to be met with the most severe tongue lashing from Emma before any of the officers could, themselves, respond. The silence following such a telling off had been deafening, until Philip had piped up in support of Swan’s reprimand, only to be cut by her sharpened tongue as well. Scurrying off with his tail tucked between his legs, he’d mumbled an excuse about the need to gather more lantern oil, and Killian had to bite down on the inside of his cheek to keep himself from laughing at the poor man’s folly.

“I’m so… sorry,” Emma panted, bracing herself against the bars of her cell, the iron clutched tightly in her hands. “I don’t know what’s… what’s come over me. Poor Officer Briar,” she lamented. “I should never have spoken so harshly to him… or you. I’m--”

Another pain cut off her words, and Killian rushed to her side. “It’s all right, love. Just breathe.”

“Where the bloody hell is Elsa?!” Emma shouted, bursting into tears. “I’m sorry. I’m--”

“Emma, stop apologizing,” Killian told her, attempting to keep the sharp edge of censure out of his tone. He wasn’t vexed with her, not truly. They were both weary, though he knew his exhaustion paled in comparison to hers, and with her pangs now coming at an alarming rate, both of them were anxious for the arrival of reinforcements. “Are you sure you do not wish to lie down?”

He made the offer tentatively, seeing as the last time he’d made the suggestion it had been met with a less than hospitable retort. Emma turned, her eyes glassy and expression weepy, and simply nodded as she waddled her way over to the narrow platform, suspended from the wall by a pair of chains fastened at its corners. As she climbed onto the thin mattress, Killian made his way to the privacy screen that had been relocated from her bathing corner. Hoping it would serve to shield her from the hallway as she gave birth on her cell bunk, Killian briefly exited the cell to ensure its current position would protect her modesty.

When he reentered, he found Emma floundering on the bunk, like an upended tortoise, struggling to right itself. With a watery huff of frustration, she went limp with defeat and a fresh sob worked its way up her throat.

“Here, love,” Kilian said, extending his hand towards her and assisting her into a seated position. “Can you hold yourself up for a moment?” She nodded, and once he was assured that she could retain the position without his help, he crawled onto the bunk and settled himself behind her. With one leg outstretched along the wall and the other bent over the edge, with his boot anchored to the floor, Killian coaxed Emma back towards him. “Recline against me, love. Save your strength.”

He could feel the reluctant tension in her - the intimacy of the position certainly was not lost on him - but her comfort was more important than propriety at the moment. Another contraction pushed all awkwardness aside, and her hand latched onto his knee, squeezing it to the point he knew he’d have fingertip shaped bruises come morning. More whispers of encouragement fell from his lips, his tone maintaining a steady cadence of peace that was in sharp contrast to the frantic rhythm of his pulse.

Where the bloody hell was Elsa? What if she did not get there in time? Would Emma be expecting him to deliver her baby on his own? Could he deliver the babe on his own?

Emma collapsed back against him, her grip easing on his knee. “Thank you,” she murmured, fatigue blanketing her tone.

“For what, love?”

“For staying,” she said. “For putting up with me, even when I was being awful to you.”

“I think you are entitled to a bit of lashing out considering the circumstance,” he told her with a smirk playing at the corner of his lips. “I know of no man who would have been able to endure all you’ve had to withstand, Swan. And I speak not of this night only.”

A calm briefly settled over them; a moment of respite where they were able to gather their collective breaths, which had synchronized with her back pressed against his chest. Emma sought out his hands, placing them on her stomach with hers resting atop them, and allowed her head to fall back onto his shoulder. No sooner had she begun to relax than Killian could feel her abdomen tighten beneath his palms. Placing a chaste kiss to her sweat soaked temple, Killian laced his fingers with hers and once again encouraged her to breathe, all the while begging God to hear his prayer that Elsa would arrive soon.

A prayer the Lord finally deigned to answer, based on the commotion he could hear from his fellow officers.

“This way!”

“Hurry!”

“Thank God, you’ve arrived!”

“Get out of the way!”

Elsa swept into the cell, brushing snow from her cloak and looking thoroughly calm and collected despite the harrowing journey she must have endured in getting to the prison amidst a blizzard.

“Emma, darling!” she cooed. “Such a brave lass you are. You’re doing beautifully. Just keep breathing while I get everything set, then I’ll see how baby is coming along.”

Emma nodded while releasing short pants that Killian only now realized he was doing with her. Elsa bustled around, rearranging lanterns and laying out her supplies, as Killian coached Emma through the contraction, the pain subsiding as Liam peeked around the privacy screen.

“Do you have everything you need?”

“Everything except Ashley,” Elsa replied to Liam’s question. “You’ll make sure she’s brought straight up once she and Thomas arrive?”

“I will,” Liam assured her before turning his attention towards Killian. “We best leave the women to their work.”

“Actually,” Elsa objected before Killian had a chance to respond. “I need Killian to remain right where he is.”

Liam blanched. “I beg your pardon? A man remaining present for a birth, especially when that man is not the father, is highly unorthodox.”

“So is a woman giving birth in a prison, upon a cot that is not suited to such an endeavor, but here we are,” Elsa retorted, organizing her instruments at the end of the bunk. “I need Killian to stay just as he is so Emma can focus all her strength on bearing down, not on keeping herself upright.”

Liam sputtered as Elsa stood, and she raised her hand to stay the argument poised on her husband’s tongue. Guiding him into the cell, they retreated to the space beside the fireplace, so they might converse without being overheard by the assemblage in the hall, but not completely out of Killian’s earshot.

“Liam. You are warden of this prison, and as far as I am concerned that makes you lord and master here. But,” she clipped out, staving off another interruption from his brother. “Until that baby is safely delivered, and I have declared both mother and child fit, you would do well to consider me queen of this cell and my word sovereign. If I say Killian remaining is what is best for Emma and a successful outcome to this night, then that is all that should matter.”

Crossing her arms over her chest, she waited patiently for her husband to respond while Killian struggled to keep himself from screaming at his brother to see reason and get the hell out so she could attend to Emma who was once again groaning in anguish in his arms.

“Fine,” Liam relented with a sigh. “Killian can stay.”

“Thank you,” Elsa said, stretching up to place a quick kiss at his cheek before dismissing him and getting back to the task at hand. As soon as Liam had exited, Elsa crouched down at the foot of the bunk and smiled up at Emma. “Let’s see how baby is doing, shall we?”

Killian averted his eyes as Elsa raised the hem of Emma’s nightdress and coaxed her legs into a bent and splayed position.

“Goodness! I can see baby’s head,” she declared excitedly. “I want you to start pushing with this next contraction, Emma.”

Obediently, to both her midwife and her body, Emma leaned into the contraction and began to push. When her foot slipped off the bed, Killian instinctively reached forward and grabbed her leg behind the knee, holding her in the position the bunk was too narrow to accommodate. Her skin was hot and slick beneath his palm, the muscles in her thigh and calf as taut as the rest of her body, with every fiber of her being working to bring forth the literal fruit of her labors.

“That’s it, Emma,” Elsa encouraged. “Little pushes now, then another big push when the next one hits you.”

“I c… can’t,” Emma panted, her head lolling back against Killian’s chest. “I can’t.”

“Yes, you can,” Elsa insisted. “You’re stronger than you realize. Just a few more big pushes.”

“You can do this, Swan,” Killian murmured into her ear. “You heard Elsa. You’re strong and brilliant. A bloody marvel, you are, and soon you’ll get to meet your little one.” Squeezing her hand, he encouraged once more, “You can do this.”

“Here we go, Emma,” Elsa declared when the next contraction took hold. “That’s it! Baby’s head is out! Just the shoulders now, so I need one more big push!”

Killian would never forget the cry Emma gave as she finished delivering her child. A cry of torment, lamenting the season that was now at an end, even as victory rang through the final reverberations and hung in the air as Elsa rejoiced and declared, “It’s a boy! You’ve a son, Emma!”

Killian felt a shuddering sob work its way up his chest, matched by the one shaking in Emma’s shoulders. He could not help but peer down to where Elsa was swaddling the red-faced and wailing infant, his cord neatly cut and ready to be delivered into his mother’s arms. A breath of pure awe and wonder fell from his lips as Emma gathered him, cooing softly between her sniffles of joy.

“Hello, my little one,” she said with a soft reverence as she nestled back against Killian’s chest, all vestiges of the pain and struggle she’d endured these long hours seemingly forgotten. “Isn’t he beautiful?”

“Aye, love,” Killian murmured, reaching around to place his hand over the still fussing babe. “The bonniest of lads.”

With a soft squeak, the baby settled, and Emma craned her head back to look up at him, tears shimmering in her eyes. “He still responds to your voice,” she said with a hint of affectionate amusement. “Just like when he was inside me. He always recognized your voice, and it either excited him or soothed him.”

Words caught in the back of Killian’s throat. Unable to dislodge them, he continued to stare down at her and the baby, his heart fit to burst from the barrage of emotion suddenly swelling within it.

Elated emotions that were quickly snuffed out with Elsa’s strained request.

“Killian, I need you to take the baby.”

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong,” she assured him, though the pinch in her brow indicated otherwise. “I simply need Emma lying flat on her back, so could you please move and take the baby so she can do so?”

Killian attempted to give Swan a confident and reassuring smile as he slipped out from behind her, and helped her lie back before gathering the baby in his arms. Taking a knee beside the bed, he adjusted her son so she could keep her attention on him and not whatever Elsa was busily doing behind his back.

He was a tiny thing, easily cradled in the crook of one arm so Killian could take hold of Emma’s hand and link their fingers together. “He’s remarkable, love,” Killian crooned, attempting to keep his nerves and fear from trembling through his words.

A tremble Emma was unable to keep from her extremities, shook through her hand as she extended it out towards her son, until it met his wee fist which instinctively wrapped around her finger.

“He certainly is,” she exhaled lovingly, her eyes fixed on his miniature features and looking relieved at what she saw - or perhaps did not see - within them.

“Have you decided upon a name?” Killian inquired.

Her teeth sank into her bottom lip and her eyes flicked first to Killian’s, and then downward towards Elsa. Though Killian could not see her over his shoulder, he was certain his sister-in-law cast a similar gaze up towards the new mother. After a moment of reflection, Emma shifted her gaze back to her son and stated, “Henry. I’m going to call him Henry.”

“Henry,” Killian murmured, his tone deepening with affection and affirmation as a smile swept over his lips. “A fine name for a fine lad.”

Another round of commotion sounded from the hallway, preceding Ashley’s arrival. Killian paid her no mind, for Emma began to gasp sharply with a pained hiss following it over her lips.

“It’s just the afterbirth, Emma,” Elsa soothed before turning her attention to Ashley. “There was a bit more bleeding than I like to see, but now that the afterbirth has been delivered, all seems to be as it should.” Killian let go a relieved breath, and the two women went about their work as he and Swan continued to marvel over young Henry.

He truly was a bonny little lad. Wisps of brown hair stuck out from his head as his eyes, a dark hue Killian could not quite make out in the dim illumination of the blocked lantern light, sleepily surveyed his new surroundings. He had Emma’s chin, that was certain, but Killian wondered what resemblance the boy might hold towards his father.

Saved from traversing that path of thought, Killian looked up when Ashley appeared by his side, staring down at him expectedly.

“What?” Killian asked, earning him a round of chuckles from the women.

“I said,” Elsa replied, “you can hand Henry over to Ashley so she can bathe him, then take your leave whilst I help Emma get cleaned up and settled.”

The tips of his ears flared from the heat creeping up his neck, chagrin over having so thoroughly lost himself in the moment he had not even heard Elsa speak. Passing the lad over to Ashley’s waiting arms, his gaze followed as she crossed the cell and began to prepare the babe’s bath. The grip of Emma’s hand on his forced his attention away from the baby and back onto his Swan.

Her lips parted, her expression revealing there was something she wished to say, poised at the tip of her tongue, but finding herself unable to utter the words. Her eyes flickered between his, swirling with the same silent earnestness she was still incapable of giving voice to.

“It’s all right, love,” Killian whispered softly, bringing her hand up to brush a gentle kiss along the backs of her knuckles. “You were brilliant, and I’m so proud of you.” He moved the back of her hand to his cheek and nuzzled against it, his eyes briefly falling shut. “So bloody proud.” Lifting his gaze to her, he allowed himself one last moment to dwell in the intimacy they’d been free to experience with one another during this harrowing night, knowing it must now come to an end. “Now it’s time to let Elsa and Ashley care for you, so you can care for your son. I’ll be back to check in on you both as soon as Elsa permits it.”

“Promise?”

Leaning in as he got to his feet, Killian threw caution and conviction to the wind. Pressing his lips to the cooling dampness of her forehead, he murmured, “Always, love. Always.”

It took every bit of strength he possessed to step away from her, though he did have to take a moment to collect himself before exiting her cell completely. Across the hall, his officers and brother were gathered in his office, an open bottle of half-consumed whiskey sat in the middle of his desk. Heads snapped in his direction when he approached the threshold, eager expressions of anticipation painted on his mates’ and colleagues’ faces.

“Well?”

“A boy,” Killian announced, unable to keep the wide grin from his face if he tried as a cheer rang out from the room.

“Oi!” a shout called out from across the prison, pulling Killian’s attention away from the swarm of men who were clapping him on the back and shoving a drink into his hand. Though Killian could not see from where the voice came, there was no mistaking Will Scarlet’s concerned accent.

“What news of the missus?”

Killian glanced at his brother, his brows raised with a silent request; one that was answered with a nod of Liam’s head. Tugging the bottom of his waistcoat in a futile attempt to straighten what he could only imagine was a bedraggled and far from regulation approved appearance, Killian grabbed a lantern and made his way to the catwalk to address the population.

“It is my great pleasure to announce the arrival of Master Henry, born this night to Miss Emma Swan. Both mother and son are faring well and resting comfortably, which I now encourage you all to do as well.”

Killian knew such an order would fall on deaf ears, the inmates’ reaction to the news matching that of the guards. His grin only widened at the sound of their cheers and the merry clanging of the bars as the occupants banged against them in their exuberance. A pride he had no biological basis to feel swelled within him and he tossed back the whiskey he still had gripped in his hand, a silent toast to his Swan and the babe they all apparently felt a collective, proprietary fondness for burning the back of his throat as he swallowed both the liquor and his emotions so he might be able to regain some semblance of his duty. Although, with the arrival of young Henry, the transference of his duty to both mother and son once again began to shift from the foundations of his occupation onto a new platform from which a new purpose with fresh aspirations would continue to emerge.

Chapter Eight ​​

[spacegoldilocks]

Don’t Be Shy

Bjorn Ironside x F!Reader

Summary: Bjorn catches you having some alone time while he’s gone and decides to punish you for it a little bit.

Tags/warnings: NSFW, smut, f masturbation, edging, dom!Bjorn vibes, vaginal fingering, oral sex (f receiving), language, no use of Y/N

Word count: 2.4k

He’d been out all day and was practically running through the village to get to you. He kept thinking about how gorgeous you looked last night - how you straddled his lap, taking your pleasure from him before begging him to fuck you into the bed.

It was all he had thought about, making him lose concentration when training and almost getting knocked to the ground. And it’s still all he can think about as he rounds the corner and pushes open the door to your bedroom.

“What do you think you are doing?”

Your eyes shoot open, and you immediately shut your legs at the sound of his voice and take your hand away from between them.

“Bjorn-“

“Do not stop for me.” He muses, gazing down at your form on the bed from the doorway. He admires the thin, soft furs that are haphazardly thrown across your naked body - obscuring your chest from his view - and the way your knees are drawn up tight but clamped shut. “Show me what you were doing.”

Your husband had told you he wouldn’t be long - he was just going out to train on the outskirts of Kattegat with some of his men. But you couldn’t help yourself. You had thought about him all day and about how good and rough he was with you last night and how much you needed it from him again.

He smirks, watching you consider what he said as he crosses his arms. “Don’t be shy now, pretty girl.”

You run your hand back down your stomach and through your curls, pressing a finger through your slit to repeat your movements from earlier for him.

“Let me see you.”

You look at him - into his eyes - as you let your knees fall apart. His jaw twitches and eyes narrow as they drop from your face to your core, watching as you expose your glistening cunt to him. There’s little light in the room, and only the candles that line the walls are able to cast light anywhere, the flames basking your body in a warm glow that highlights the shine between your legs.

“So fucking wet.” He says, chewing on his bottom lip.

You slide a finger through your folds, collecting your wetness to bring it to your clit. “For you.”

His eyebrow quirks. “For me?”

You nod, then let your head settle on the plush pillows behind you.

He stays leaning against the frame of the door, and you’re all too aware that anyone could walk past and see you, they’d only have to look past the broadness of his shoulders to see your naked form in a sea of fur blankets, fingers dipping into your cunt. But, perhaps that’s why he enjoys this. And so do you. The thrill.

He watches as you work your fingers against your clit, drawing slow circles before becoming faster when you feel yourself getting closer and closer. He studies the way you throw your head back and use your free hand to play with your nipples as your hand moves frantically to seek your climax, and how your hips jolt when you find the right angle.

You’re close, and your back arches away from the bed beneath you and your hips buck against your hand as you chase and wait for your peak to wash over you. You’re close, you’re close and-

“Wait. Stop.”

You do as you're told, letting your back settle into the blankets again and looking at him for an explanation.

He pushes off of the door, closing it as he strides over to you on the bed. Your eyes follow him as he circles around the bed, lying down next to you on his side, propping his head up with his elbow.

He takes a finger, teasing it over your skin - using it to hook under the fabric thrown across your body to expose your stiff nipples to the colder air and lets his fingertip ghost over it.

“Will you do something for me?”

He watches your chest rise and fall heavily as you carefully observe the movements of his fingers. You whine a small ‘yes’.

“Touch yourself again.”

“Wh-?”

He shushes you. “Just trust me.”

You nod your head as you look into his gorgeous pleading eyes. He swiftly pinches one of your nipples as you reach a hand between your legs again.

“Good girl.” He praises, using his index finger to tilt your head to be level with his. “Now, put two fingers inside that pretty little cunt.”

You do as he says, teasing your entrance with your tips of your fingers before pushing them deep inside, letting your mouth fall open in delight.

“How does it feel?”

Your breathing becomes heavier as you start to pump your fingers, hooking them to press against that soft spot inside you. “Wonderful, my love.”

“Good - keep doing that.”

Bjorn spreads his hand across your jaw, holding you in place as he kisses you - dipping his tongue into your mouth and teasing your tongue with his own. His kisses are hot and frantic, barely giving you a chance to breathe as his lips hungrily assault yours.

Your shared room fills with wet sounds - the smack of your lips and tongues colliding, and the slick, obscene noises of your fingers pressing into your pussy.

His hand travels lower as you draw closer again, and you eagerly anticipate what he’s about to do. His fingers glide over the smooth planes of your body, creeping up to your hand that works two of your fingers into your cunt. You prepare yourself to come undone for him, but his grip suddenly becomes tight around your hand - so tight that your movements stop and you fade away from that high once again.

He takes your hand away from your core, bringing it to his lips where he takes your drenched fingers into his mouth, sucking them down to the knuckle and swirling his tongue in between them. He screws his eyes shut, savouring your flavour and mulling over your delicious taste.

You’re in awe watching him as he delights in the taste of your arousal, unable to stop the quiet remark of wonder that leaves your lips. “Fuck…”

He hums in delight as he lets your fingers leave his mouth.

Your voice is high and hoarse - croaking out your words as you come down from a second denied high. “Bjorn, what are you doing?”

He huffs a small laugh, the corners of his mouth turning up devilishly at your question. “I’m teaching you that you should only touch what’s mine when I tell you to.”

You feel your cunt clench and a new wave of arousal flood between your legs at his words. Mine. “So tell me what to do.”

His tongue comes out to wet his lips at the same time his fingers tweak one of your nipples, causing you to moan. “Put one of those fingers back.”

“Just one?”

“Just one.” He confirms.

You dip a single finger back through your folds, dodging your clit to push the pad of your digit against your opening, letting your slick ease the way for it to slip inside you. It barely satiates your burning desire - you need more. You still let out a small sob at every curl of your lone finger, but you both know you need more.

He lets you carry on, though, for a short while, until he gives in. “Another.”

You slip a second finger into your cunt, and the squelching of your pussy gets louder - filling the room will the lewdest, prettiest sounds Bjorn’s ever heard. He whispers every word against your ear, not wanting to take away from those delicious sounds. “Are you touching that spot you like?”

You cry out ‘yes’ as you curl your fingers even more to press into the place he talks about.

“Good.” His voice is low and gravelly but sweet like honey in your ears. “Add one more.”

“Bjorn-”

He gets up from your side, settling between your legs and resting his palms on the tops of your knees, inching them apart as subtly as he can manage when he wants nothing more than to force your legs apart and bury his face between them.

“I know you can do it, pretty girl.” He says, looking at you with eyes darkened by lust.

You bite down on your lip before slowly stuffing a third finger into your drenched cunt, the only resistance being from the stretch.

“Good.” You don’t see the way he starts palming himself through his trousers watching you use three of your fingers to fuck yourself, nor the way his tongue darts out to lick over his lips. “That’s good.”

You start to moan louder, and then he can’t help himself. His other hand reaches out, brushing his thumb over the peak of your clit. You jump under his touch, breaking out in goosebumps as he touches you where you crave him for the first time.

He watches your shining body convulse, signalling to him that you’re agonisingly close. He grazes the pad of his thumb over your clit a few more times before he stops - and stops the movements of your own hand too.

You look at him, silently begging him to give you your release. You see the look in his eyes that tells you he’s considering it, considering giving into your sorry, exhausted look.

You whisper his name, taking your fingers from your cunt as you plead with him.

“Let me.” He whispers back, caressing the tops of your thighs as his hand glides further towards your core.

He eases one of his thick fingers into you, stroking your walls before he adds another. You grew accustomed to three of your fingers, but two of his feels fucking perfect - much thicker and longer than yours. He works and curls them into your cunt, thrusting them into you as hard and fast as he pleases.

But he knows what he’s doing. Every time he feels you bear down on him and your walls clench around his fingers he slows. He never stops - only relaxes his pace enough for your peak to fade away as quickly as it approached. He runs his hand over your thigh as his fingers gently pet your walls.

You quickly lose count of how many times you feel the warmth settle in your stomach only to have it ripped away and be replaced with a cold sweat that makes tears prick at the corners of your eyes.

Your body trembles below him, with a damp layer covering your skin - dripping across your forehead and behind your knees.

Bjorn takes in your form, seeing the heaviness of your eyes and the way your lips part so prettily to let your rapid breaths out. He sighs, dropping lower to plant feathery kisses along your inner thigh. He keeps slowly pumping his fingers, making sure you stay wet and lovely and pliable for him.

His kisses draw nearer to your core, where his fingers work not nearly as hard as you need them to. You whimper as you feel his hot breath fan over your cunt and you jump as he touches his lips so gently to the top of your slit.

“Do you want me to let you cum?”

“Bjorn, please.” You look down at him, eyes glassy and brain fogged. “Please let me.”

“Okay.” You feel his fingers coil against that spot again, and you wrench your eyes shut. “Since you asked so nicely.”

He pumps faster - only by a mere fraction. But he dips his tongue through your folds, collecting the excess wetness there and drawing tight, slow patterns over your clit.

Your hips try to buck up, chasing whatever he gives you, but his hand comes over your abdomen to anchor you down against the bed. You’ll take what he gives you.

You think he’s going to go harder - as hard and relentless as he normally gives it to you. Only, he doesn’t. He’s slow and torturous and he makes you fucking work for it. He circles his tongue slowly and his beard scratches against the sensitive skin of your thighs and cunt as his fingers ease in and out of you.

You feel it before you even have time to tell him about it. He strokes you with his fingers and his tongue and it feels so fucking good that your toes curl as your body begins to spasm under him.

It’s too much all at once.

Your skin burns and you feel your lower muscles draw up tight and your body goes rigid. You feel the fire spread from the pit of your stomach out, taking over your entire body as he finally lets you hit your peak.

Your eyes roll back as a hoarse cry makes its way out of your throat. There’s nowhere for your hips to go with him holding them down but your back curls away from the bed with the sheer force of how hard you cum.

He hurls you through it - never relenting his assault on your pussy as his fingers pump into you and he latches onto you clit and sucks.

Your body writhes and jerks, completely under his mercy. You cry out his name, pleading with him to take it easy on you.

Bjorn, please, oh my- Bjorn.

Your hands fly down to his that lay sprawled across your stomach, tightly wrapping your hands around his fingers as your body goes tight, pulled taut like the string of a bow, and any moans or sounds you try to make get trapped at the bottom of your throat.

He eventually relents, resorting to using a single finger and gently licking his tongue through your slit.

“I think you have a few more in you.” He says abruptly. “Don’t you think?”

You blink down at him, watching as he rises to his knees and starts to unlace the ties keeping his trousers snug at his waist. He waits for you to come down from your high - waits for you to stop looking so dizzy. He slips the top of his trousers down, freeing his cock in the process and preparing to line himself up with your opening.

“Mm-hm.”

Gods, you’ll make sure he catches you more often if this is what happens.

[selinakidreams]

hello!! this is my first ever collab and man o man am I happy to be participating in @buttershouse ‘s Magic March with so many talented people!! Please go check out everyone’s work, there’s so many delicious pieces to choose from.

without further a-due, please enjoy this 7k word mash of a magic coffee shop/witch/ college au that I have goin here

pairing: Sero Hanta (with a FUCKIN UNDERCUT !) x gn!reader (afab)

warnings: she’s WHOLESOME, implied sexual themes throughout and then actual smut at the end !! , sex on aphrodisiacs

a/n: thank you so so so so so so so much to @keishinslove @hiddenbluee @spikesbimbo @scorpiomoonslutt and @dymphnasprose for reading and beta-ing this big boi- you guys helped me so much and 🥺🥺 you guys seriously mean the world to me.

tag list: @hiddenbluee​ @undersero @sawam0chi

“Double double, toil and trouble, fire burn and cauldron bubble,” you hum as you steep black tea before shifting to the other part of your station so you could add the guise of vanilla to the milk you were about to steam. 

You hear a snort come from your coworker as she looks over to you before smirking, “You think you’re so funny,” she teases while heating up a chocolate muffin for the current order. 

“I do, I really do,” you muse, holding the metal pitcher up to the espresso machine’s steam wand. The distinct smell of the liquid luck wafts around as you begin blending it in with the milk; it makes you smile, a comfortingly warm feeling washing over you. 

You always hoped people stepped into the shop hearing about the rumors and whole-heartedly believed them; believing in the magic that went into each drink when they ordered something off of the special menus- and that it wasn’t just for the unique taste. 

When you first started out, you often heard that with each new employee, the magical feeling tends to die out sooner or later; the happiness of creating spells and potions for others fleeting with the ever-growing pessimism towards all things unexplainable. After working at the shop for three years, one would think the feeling would have caught up to you, instead you felt anything but. With each new regular whose eyes sparkled with excitement as you handed them their unique concoction of a drink, your smile grew wider. Sometimes the familiar faces would come back and whisper about how each drink gave them the right energy to deal with each individual situation… almost like magic. You could do nothing but smile, sometimes a coy little wink was added, exciting the customer more and more. They'd leave with a newfound pep in their step. That's what has kept you going for so long. All anyone ever has to do was keep an open mind and believe that true magic does exist, and when you do, it's almost as though a door opens up, full of delightful possibilities.

As you called out the finished order and thanked the satisfied customer, the shop’s entrance bell chimed, welcoming in the newest one. 

You look up and made eye contact with someone who seemed oddly familiar; you tend to remember almost every person that has shown up more than twice at the cafe, so the fact that you can't fully recognize him only shows that the cafe couldn't have been where you’ve known him from... You couldn't quite put your finger on where you've seen him before but you definitely couldn't forget the welcoming aura he radiated. With his black hair pulled into a ponytail, exposing his undercut, and his extra large t-shirt hanging off of his lean frame, he flashed a bright smile, heading up to the counter to order.

Accustomed to ‘hey’s, ‘hi’s, or even an immediate order, the first thing out of his mouth somewhat surprised you. With a tilt of the head and a squint of the eyes, he mumbled out, “.. You look really familiar.” as he tried to place the face.  

“You know, I was thinking the same thing...” you trailed off. 

After a few seconds of analysis with no conclusion, he seemed to shrug and let out a little chuckle with a passive “it'll probably come to me in the middle of my next class…” before his eyes caught sight of the menus off to the side. Not wanting to make it too obvious that you were tempted to stare, you aimed your gaze elsewhere, only occasionally sneaking a glance at him while he was preoccupied with the menu.

“Ahh… can I get…” he kept his sights on all the options he could, as if it was going to make him any more decisive. Part of you hoped to hear something special, something magical, only to hear, “uhh a… hot latte please?”

While a very solid drink, you subconsciously waited to hear a flavor come after it; staring at him, almost in a daze. 

“Did I forget something...?” Your eyes grew wide, mind blank, trying to come up with an excuse for the elongated silence but before you could spout something out, his smile grew as he rolled his eyes, “Oh, duh, I forgot the size!” A breathy laugh came after his revelation and your chest  felt lighter once the sound hit your ears. “Could I get a large please?”

“Yeah, absolutely!” you chime as you grab a large paper cup and mark down his order with a sharpie.“Will that be all for you today?” looking back up at him, your customer service smile makes its awaited appearance like clockwork as it did when wrapping up every order. His eyes darted to the full pastry case before he could conclude, causing an actual smile to grace your lips, “Tempted?”

“One way or another, yea,” he said with an undertone of something else being implied, causing your cheeks to heat up. The smile that he threw in there further caused a little flutter of your heart.  

“Well luckily for you, we just restocked, so you've got a wide range of goodies to choose from.”

He licked his bottom lip and smoothly responded with, “Well which is your favorite?”

“My favorite? Hmm… Well, I always love a good chocolate croissant whenever I'm drinking regular lattes. The chocolate adds in that kick of sweetness that compliments the lack thereof with the coffee and bonus, it's not too heavy where it will make you feel bloated.`` 

“You really know how to sell a guy… That sounds amazing. Could I have that, please?” the tone in his voice was playful, fun, possibly flirty- and that was something that you were not going to think about. He’s a customer; he might not come back when he wants his next cup of coffee.

“You want me to warm it up for you?”

“Sure!”

Picking up the prongs, you took the freshest croissant from the batch and placed it in the microwave oven, turning back around. 

You voiced his total with a soft smile, “Cash or card?”

“Card. uh .. Can I leave a tip on here?” 

Cue the airy sigh that left your chest. A man who knows to leave a tip: you were in love with him already.

“Yea!” you squeak before clearing your throat, “Yea, once you remove your card, the option should pop up on the screen!”

You throw one more smile back at him before turning around to start his drink, not missing the incredibly hard stare your coworker was giving you. You try not to look at them throughout the duration of making his drink.

Handing the handsome man his order, your hands lightly brushed against his and you fought hard to ignore the hefty thump in your chest. You looked back up at him and swore that there was a tint of rose dusted across his cheeks. 

You saw the beginning of his outburst before you could hear it. 

“Sero!” he said quickly, “Sero Hanta. That’s my name.” 

You smiled, sticking out your hand and saying your name, “I’ll be sure to remember it… Sero.” 

The rest of the shift went by pretty quick after that. Your coworker couldn't keep their mouth shut about how he was flirting with you and how you just so happened to be flirting back. You two were giggling so much that the rest of the shift just seemed to slip away and before you know it, it was time to clock out.

“Is there anything you want me to do before I head out?” you shout, asking the newly present night shift as you’re halfway out the door. 

“No no, we got it,” both your coworkers chime, “just hurry up and get to class!” one of them adds. 

Rolling your eyes, you wave goodbye, double checking that everything needed for class was in your bag before fully lugging one of the straps onto your shoulder and heading off.

The walk wasn't that far from the shop, luckily- taking your time and enjoying the world around you was such a cooldown from the hustle and bustle of your work shifts. 

The college town was quaint, warm, homely; It felt like everywhere was a short walk away- which it was. There was an ample amount of time for you to stroll to class after one of your shifts.

As you peruse down the street, you took note of how bright it felt this time of day and how soft the glow emanating from the sunlight hitting the trees was; the kiss of the sun heated your skin, allowing you to bask in the warmth of everything: the environment, the vibe, the mood. What a great feeling. 

Random thoughts passed in and out of your brain as you got to the entrance of campus- but the continuous train of thought halted at the station when the image of that man who came into the shop, the one with the undercut- Sero Hanta, popped up.

He was really attractive… where had you seen him before?

You mindlessly head towards the lecture hall, with the image of Sero’s face ever present behind your eyelids. The approaching building was a beautiful brick with ivy climbing up the side, a framed golden plaque near the large double doors announced that people were about to enter the Mirai Sasaki building- something you would normally stop to admire but today, you headed straight inside and towards your seat, still mentally preoccupied. 

Plopping down, you situate yourself, getting everything out; your textbook, notebook, pens, pencils and even a highlighter. You take a deep breath before slightly shaking your mind to wake up and concentrate on the human sexuality lecture that was about to start. Sero Hanta can wait.

Is what you told yourself and yet, the thought of him wouldn't leave you alone. It went so far as even hearing the professor call out his name. 

“So, I just wanted to clarify,” your ears perk up at the voice, “The article you gave us was about how unequal the orgasm ratio- the orgasm gap- is for women… but I feel like there is a new wave of um… feminine orgasm appreciation. Not to get too personal, but I know between my friends and I, we make sure that our partners always come… first.” He trailed off at the last part, probably coming to terms with the awkward phrasing he had ended with. 

You had to take a second to get a grip; too many things were happening at once and the one that held most of your attention was the fact that Sero Hanta blatantly admitted to wanting the girl to orgasm first. 

What a gentleman.

“Thank you for your… input … mister Sero- but with what you pointed out, it’s actually a perfect segway into the first project of the semester! If you notice in your syllabus, I typed a very vague title for the next class’s date. We're going to talk about it more next class but until then, please read the assigned articles by the next class and have a good rest of your day!”

While the majority of the class was packed and headed to the door, your eyes stayed glued on Sero as you mindlessly put things away. It seemed as though he was taking his time as well. Maybe he needed to talk to the professor? 

Seeing that your desk was now cleared, you slowly began descending down the stairs to get to the floor level, eyes glued to each step in front of you, mind somewhere completely different until your head is met with a firm back. With wide eyes, you step back and begin a stream of apologies, head bowed and eyes still on the floor as if you didn’t learn your lesson the first time. A warm chuckle hushes you accompanied with a light, “It’s alright, it’s alright!”

You look back up and are met with the mind-dizzying smile of the man who failed to leave your thoughts alone. 

Before your eyes could get any bigger, he murmurs your name. “So this is where I know you from!” He slightly cheered, lopsided grin growing comfortable. 

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“Hey! Hey- you guys aren't closing are you?” You hear a panting voice rush through the door- the complete opposite of the energy the cafe currently held. You and your coworker were just winding down from your shift, cleaning and making sure everything was restocked for the next shift, soft music aiding the mood. 

Sero was attempting to collect himself when he realized the two pairs of stunned eyes staring at him. 

“I just- I wanted to walk with you to class. If that’s cool,” he said to you, flattening his shirt down, “and maybe get a coffee.”

Warmth fills your face as you try to suppress a smirk, “in that order?”

The already flustered college student blushed just a bit harder. Before he could come up with a response, your smirk eased into a soft smile, “okay Sero, what could I get you to drink?”

He steps further inside and orders the same thing he got the first time: a large hot latte. It doesn't take long until the drink is in his hand and you're shooing him off to a table, “I’ll be done in like 10 minutes, is that alright?” you ask, hints of your customer service mannerisms kicking in. He nods and you get back to cleaning, unaware that your movements became a bit swifter. 

After clocking out, you’re met with an eager grin and a glint of something unnameable in sero’s eyes. 

“The coffee was excellent, by the way. Both times I had it. Do you do something to it? I feel like it’s so much more than just a simple latte.” 

You smile at two things, him opening the door for you, and the fact that he was absolutely oblivious to the fact that his drink is one of the few drinks you don’t add any magical properties to. 

“I make it with kindness.” You say as you two start your walk, intertwining your hands behind you.

“So mister Hanta… have you been stalking me?” 

His eyes grow wide as his cheeks taint red, “N-no! I just thought that maybe you work every shift that’s before our class.”

“Hmmm… So were you going to come by every day to test out your theory if i wasn't there today?”

“Well, luckily you were there, so I guess we’ll never know the answer.”

After you hummed out a response, the walk turned into a comfortable type of silent.

The both of you had several things passing through your mind, but outwardly, one was caught up basking in the fresh spring air while the other was admiring how the wind would slightly shift your hair.

Deciding to break the silence, you turned to face him, “Hey, so, why did you choose to take human sexuality?”

He didn't seem surprised to hear the question but he took a moment; it didn't seem like he was scrambling to find the perfect answer, it was almost like he just couldn't properly find the words. 

“Honestly, I love intimacy. I think its really cool that not one person’s views on sex and sexuality and the miniscule details within it, are the same.”

While the words you were hearing made sense, it must have shown that you weren't prepared for such an insightful answer because he let out a hearty laugh that seemed to go on and on, even after he took a deep inhale. 

“I’m sorry-” he choked out as he grabbed his chest, “your face just-” he gulped another breath of air, trying to regain composure.

Throughout his fit of laughter, you almost joined in a few times if it weren’t for you biting your cheek in attempts to keep the annoyed facade up. 

As soon as it seemed like he got it all out, you try to pull a convincing pout. 

“So what's the real answer, then?”

He cocks his head at your question, a smile still playing on his lips, “whaddya mean?”

“You're telling me that what you said wasn't just to catch me off guard?”

“Oh! No no, that's really why I'm taking the class. But i bet you thought i was going to say something asshole-y like ‘i just wanna learn more about sex so i could be better’, hm?” he said the last part in a dopey voice before smirking back at you.

You rolled your eyes in return, “not necessarily, that was just a really… refreshing… answer.”

By the time you got to class, it seemed pretty full, which was a bit odd seeing as though there was still some time before the lecture started. Part of you was hoping that you could snag a seat next to Sero or he could snag a seat next to you- but both of your usual seats were surrounded by others already. There was also always the possibility that maybe he didn't want to sit next to you; you didn't want to get your hopes up so you turned to him, waved goodbye, and headed to your normal seat. Unbenounced to you, he physically slouched in disappointment before heading to his spot.

The lesson went on, and while he wasn't crowding your mind today, you subconsciously kept stealing glances at him throughout the lecture in hopes that one of the times you'll find him glancing back at you. The only time you did catch him staring at you was with wide eyes when the professor announced that you two were going to be partners for the upcoming project.

“So I guess this means it's an appropriate time to ask for your number… I wanted to ask you for it but I didn't want to move too fast…?” he said as you two approached eachother after class, cracking a shy smile while he absentmindedly scratched the back of his neck, a subltle flex of his muscles on display. It was a bit hard to concentrate with a combo move like that attacking you, as if he was going in for the kill. 

“I wouldn't have thought it was too fast.” you softly counter, flashing him a tender smile.

It was one thing to feel the heat go to your face, it's another to visibly see it appear on his.

You both traded phones at the same time with the promise to text each other later that night; you put a little coffee emoji by his name while he put the sun next to yours.

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Sitting at the furthest table away from the register, you start to unpack your laptop and make yourself comfortable- you're gonna be here a while. Powering up the device, Hanta pulls at the seat across from you and begins to mimic your movements. 

“So you want our first project meeting… at a coffee shop?” you start, trying to keep the smile from coming onto your face. Looking up at him would mean automatic defeat seeing as it's getting harder and harder for you to look at him without your lips twitching upward.

“I thought it would be very symbolic.”

A snort greeted both of your guy’s ears as your eyes went wide and your hands shot up to cover your mouth. “Anyway, so the project.”  Blushing around him was starting to become a regular occurrence, as well.

“Right,” he says clapping his hands and rubbing them together.

“So the project is to point out common sexual misconceptions and back it up with statistics and research articles. The fact that we got dibs on the misconception of the orgasm gap all because you had bragged about your personal sex life…” the thought alone shot a wave of warmth down your spine and right to your lower region. A flash of a Sero you hadn’t faced yet appeared in your imagination; him looking up at you, hungry and eager to please. It made your breath hitch. 

“Well, yea! I had to voice it. I mean, I feel like it’s common sense! When you have sex by yourself, then you can focus on what makes you feel good and what makes you cum. But when you’re with a partner…” he trailed off and your gaze snapped to him, “you should make sure they cum at least once before doing… whatever you two.. had.. planned on… doing.” Sero finished, his eyes flickered between your eyes and lips. 

Oh fuck. 

You felt yourself throb. 

“Y-yea! Uh I completely a-agree.” 

It’s almost as though he could tell that you were flustered so just to top it off, he smirked, “Good. I’m glad we’re on the same page.” before deciding to drop it and move on.

He took a sip of his drink and sighed, “You guys really do make the best coffee. I got the same thing as I did with your place and yet… I'm here longing for your coffee.” you snort once again.

After that, the conversation eased into the project and what exactly needed to be done; the assignment was very simple but sorting out what dates you guys were going to meet up and how exactly you were going to go about gathering the information was all crucial. The project was due in a month and needed to be submitted in powerpoint format- which the both of you were relieved about.

It was really cute seeing Hanta’s eyes all lit up when it came to the part of how you two were going to go about getting all the information needed. He even suggested to conduct a little side research if you guys were ahead of schedule. It was something that made your heart patter. It was almost like you had smelt some of the charmed rose petals from work because every time you looked at him, you couldn't stop the warmth that flooded in your chest.

With that thought, there was the fact that he was more than likely going to be spending large amounts of time at the cafe- would he notice? Should you just come straight out and explain it? Explain that you were considered a witch, someone who was open-minded and was in tune with their intuition and can work with certain herbs, charms, and spells to create wonderful things? It didn't seem that big of a deal to you, it was something you had grown up with; simple spells and practices that just made day to day life more simple. Not every witch has been through the same childhood you had, there’s no special school- not that you were aware of, anyway. Your parents kept their grimoire out in the open and let you frolic about as they eased basic wholesome rituals into your life, and when you got old enough, they let you take in chapter by chapter each spell they casted, each potion they brewed. 

When you applied at the cafe, your first interview was full of normal questions worded in a way that almost sounded like it had a double meaning, thankfully you caught it and later was asked for a second interview- conducted by the boss himself. He had asked you to perform a basic potion/drink you grew up with, something that made you feel like you were walking on air. It was simple; a butterfly pea tea with a breath of life, with just a little bit of lemon activated the spell in the brew. When the well made drink hit his tongue, he offered you the job not a second later.

No. You wouldn't tell Sero yet. It never came up; It’d be odd to tell him straight off the bat- there's really no need. If he ever asks… then you’ll tell him.

But he hadn't so far.

Each meeting so far felt incredibly productive. It seemed like getting work done came naturally, with the topic being easy to discuss between the two of you and getting the articles to support your claim was fairly simple- apparently a lot of studies have been done about people’s orgasms. 

Since drafting up a skeleton outline the first time meeting, the bits and pieces really started coming together, but the get-togethers sometimes didn't go as planned- however, what was a constant was that no matter what the meet-up consisted of, there would always be a paper cup from your work, filled with a hot latte.

Some of the days, rather than working on the project, the two of you would use the allotted time to sit in your cafe and goof off, or sometimes you would host “tea time” in your apartment and talk about anything and everything- and it was okay because very early on, you both gathered all the adequate articles that involved your topic and sifted through them to get the statistics you needed. Collecting the data was simple enough and putting it together just came easy to you. 

Looking up from your laptop, finally done with sorting all the cited sources in each slide, you wave your hand at Sero to get his attention. Hanta was working on phrasing the facts and statistics from each work, so when he tilted his head up, gaze still on the screen until he finished typing the last sentence, he took his headphones out and hummed as he looked at you. 

“You get the same thing everytime we’re together… why?” 

He glanced at his almost empty cup before fully taking out his headphones, “I get it all the time because it really is the best latte I've ever gotten from a cafe before. I tell you this all the time.” 

“You never… wanna try anything new?”

“Is there something in particular you want me to try?” he asks, quirking his eyebrow upwards.

“Well no, not necessarily…”

“Well then how about you give me a recommendation? What’s a drink you think I would love?” 

This one stumped you for a minute. Though the thought had crossed your mind quite often, you couldn't quite pinpoint which special drink he’d appreciate the most. Something warm… something reflecting how you feel about him.

“I think that you should get the Time Flies; it's this black tea latte with orange zest and it's really… cozy.”

“Okay, I'll try it the next time I go.” 

And he did. The first sip he took felt like smooth gold hitting his tongue. So warm and rich that it had apparently induced the vivid image of the sunset from his grandmother’s porch. He was remembering the orange glow of everything the light touched. The whole day, he was feeling incredibly nostalgic, he even did some of the things he used to do when he was a kid, like watch old black and white movies and make dinner with his mom (even if it was through a phone call).

He told you all of this with one of the most handsome smiles you've ever seen, and that's saying a lot.

˚✧₊⁎⁺˳✧༚16 oz Love Me or Love Me Not with oat milk, hot; our very own pink rose syrup (enchanted candied petals inside and dried petals on top) steamed in the milk meets a double shot of espresso for a deep, sweet, cozy drink˚✧₊⁎⁺˳✧༚

 “So,” you start once everything is situated on your living room table, the two floor pillows that play hosts to your guy’s lower halves sit diagonal from each other.

“So.”

“Everything is practically done, I just wanted to… call this meeting so we could just quickly skim over it and see if there was anything in the powerpoint that needed fixing and or adjusting.”

“Very reasonable reason to call this meeting but both of us have been looking at this practically nonstop… so I’m pretty sure it's good.”

“Well it’s due next class and I know we finished it up a few a couple of days ago but… there is absolutely nothing wrong with striving for perfection. And if anything, I’m trying to save your reputation.” he choked at the accusation you were attempting to make, “Oh yea! How are you going to get away with making that bold statement in front of the class, do a whole project on it, and then just… have it not be anything short of jaw dropping?” you didn't even wait for him to speak, “exactly. Your rep is on the line, I'm just the sorry person who got stuck with you.” You smirk, driving your ludacris point home while crossing your arms over your chest. 

Scoffing, he leaned over and lightly shoved you, “we got to choose are partners for this project! You chose to be with me!” his cry caused a chuckle to fall from your mouth as you readjusted yourself onto your pillow, “that's neither here nor there.” you try your best snotty act as you stick your nose up in the air.

“Okay okay then, your grace, let us go over the powerpoint,” he jested along and gave you a slight bow.

After a quick runthrough, everything seemed spick and span, so the two of you became more relaxed and sunk into the larger floor pillows once again. 

“So… I noticed that you finally got something from your shop.” Sero gestured over to the other paper cup on the table. “I have never seen you with your own coffee before, why today?”

Your cheeks involuntarily began to heat up; the drink he was referring to was none other than the Love Me or Love Me Not. Usually, you never went out of your way to make it, but for the occasion, it was necessary. It was the last time you guys were going to meet up for the project and you just… had to know. 

Let it be known, messing with love potions wasn’t your forte, you preferred for everything romantic to be consensual and untampered with- that's why this brew in particular was one that you preferred out of all the ones that are out there. When made correctly, the person drinking it should be able to look at their crush (in person) and if the crush liked them back, then the drinker would get a fierce wave of goosebumps; if the person did not like them romantically, their head world ache for just a few minutes before going back to normal. Simple and effective, plus no one gets roughed up or drugged.

Not a single sip had been taken yet, you were on edge about the situation. This was the first time you had ever made it for yourself, and it was pretty nerve wracking to see if this man who you began harboring feelings for liked you the same. 

It’s surely gone cold by now but that wasn’t going to stop you. “Oh! Uh- I was just really craving this drink today.” You say lamely before bringing the cup to your lips and taking a gulp. 

The smell of rose hit your nose before you could register the taste. The evenly sweet syrup paired with the strong espresso danced on your tongue before you swallowed it. You softly sighed, it tasted delicious. Another sip slipped past your lips. 

A roll of relief cascaded through you when an intense wave of goosebumps rose on your poked at your skin, causing you to cough and sputter. Eyes going wide and squeezing shut as the coughs wracked through your body. 

He likes you.

While coming down from your fit, you semi glance at Hanta who had almost instantly appeared by your side, patting and gently rubbing your back. 

“Is there liquor in that?” He joked as he handed you your drink so you could have more liquid to ease your throat.

You shook your head after drinking some more and cracking a grin. It might’ve been too big of a smile for someone who just choked but you didn’t care. Sero Hanta… likes you. 

Unable to help it, you glance down at his lips only to realize how close he is. Your grin slowly drops, your heart pounding in your chest.

“Can I uh.. can I try your drink?” He says, face red with blush. 

As you go to hand him your drink, he leans in and cups your jaw- causing your whole body to still, even your heart stopped to join the languor.

 He peaks his tongue out to softly lap up a drop that must have been on your lip, before capturing your lips with his. 

It felt like your mind shut down, and all you can feel is how soft his lips are and how sweetly he’s kissing you. Almost hesitantly. 

He pulls away in attempts to find your gaze to decipher how you felt about it. 

Your breath is ragged as you look back at him- everything and nothing is going on in your head in that moment, unable to speak, until you see the goosebumps that coat his body. 

Your heart thumps impossibly faster as you realize that not only does he like you… but he truly believes. He believes in the two of you, he believes in love, and he believes in magic. 

Without another second to waste, you tackle him in a hug and find your lips on his in a way that you know you’ll never get enough of. 

special extra ! : you and Hanta in the fall- Season of the Witch with almond milk, hot; dirty chai latte with a bewitched cinnamon stick to help keep you warm ;) , even on the coldest of days ˚✧₊⁎⁺˳✧༚

The cold nips at your nose just as big hands nip at your waist, causing you to let out a noise between a squeak and a gasp. A flash of soft black hair blurred your vision before cold lips meet yours. “Hanta,” you sigh into the kiss before pulling away and giggling. 

You were heading back to your apartment after a day shift at work, the sky already becoming darker because of the autumnal equinox. 

“What are you doing? I thought I was gonna meet you at my place.” You say as your fingers intertwined and your step fell into pace with his. He pulled you closer so that you were basically leaning into him as you walked.

“You know those chocolate and pumpkin scones you baked for me? The special ones?” He quietly moaned. 

Your eyes go wide as he purposely guided your intertwined hands over his blatant bulge.

“Hanta you weren’t supposed to eat those until later, the spell usually kicks in within the next 30 minutes!” You giggle again. 

A few weeks after you two started officially dating, you formally sat him down and explained everything you didn't when talking about your guys’ past- the memories of frolicking through tall grass and talking to your mother’s familiar, to getting your job at the cafe. He told you that it was a lot to take in, but never did he push you away. When he went to the cafe, he was more observant. Somewhere in the months between June and July, he slowly became more and more interested in the rituals you would do and the potions you would make. He wanted to start joining in. Now in October, he loves seeing your crystals around your house and all the different herbs you grow in the sills of your window. When he found out that you could bake magical pastries with certain herbs, he almost immediately asked you to bake him some. At first, it started as something simple like a sage and rosemary savory loaf that helped cleanse your pallet of any negative energy. Then it started becoming more and more intricate, and that's how the two of you ended up here.

 “I know but fuck-- I was hungry and they looked so good, and now I’m hard and I need you.” he spoke lowly. 

This was going to be fun. 

The rest of the way, you were casually asking him things that shouldn't be heard in a public setting, “What is it you want to taste first, Hanta?”

“How badly do you want to fuck me into the mattress? Hm? Have your big cock stretch me out?”

“Wanna fill me up?”

By the time you both got to your apartment, there was no fumbling with the keys to get your door to open, you already had them out; getting through the door took three seconds tops. Next thing you know, your back was against the closest wall, your hands pulling at his tied up hair and scraping your nails against his scalp when the soft locks fell. One of his big hands lifted up a leg of yours and he groaned as he thrust upward against your heat.

“Fuck-” he panted into the kiss before trailing down your neck, still holding up one leg while the other hand finds itself under your shirt, his fingers hot to the touch. 

Releasing your leg and dropping to his knees, he looked up at you as he fumbled with the button of your pants. You lace your fingers in his hair, feeling him yank the material down your legs, tossing the one leg over your less dominant leg over your shoulder, and when a warm muscle hits your sopping clothed core, you pull his hair harder to apply more pressure.

“Look at me when I have you in my mouth, I wanna see how much you enjoy this.” 

You felt yourself clench, and apparently so did he, because a smirk grew on his lips. “Oh, you like when I say things like that?”

“H-hanta, please.. '' your voice wavered before you sucked in a sharp gasp. He had a finger, then two inside of you in no time, the other hand keeping the underwear out of the way so his lips could wrap around your clit.

He was pumping in and out of you faster and faster, occasionally switching the pace to unbearably slow and when you would whine, he’d tilt his head up, mid lick, to throw you a teasing glance before picking up the pace. He bagan curling his fingers, hitting a spot that had your eyes rolling and with the pressure building up, it had you panting out a breathy repetitive stream of his name. 

“‘M gonna cum Hanta, hh-” you moaned out before clenching your eyes shut, your body involuntarily shaking above him. And right below you, he was ready to lick up everything you had to offer.

Holding you steady as he came up to kiss you, your juices still on his lips, “you ready for me, sweetheart?” he asked when he pulled away. The short sobering moment hit as soon as he scooped you up and carried you to the bedroom, but after he tossed you onto the bed, the look he gave you as he was unbuttoning his pants drew your mind hazy again.

“Can't wait to pump you full of my cum, to have you a drooling mess because of my cock.” he huskily whispered, giving you so many delicious previews of how the night will go. “You want that, pretty? Use your words.” he said as he crawled over to you and caged you in. The scent of cedar wood and citrus clouded your senses.

“Yes please Hanta!” you whine, “wanna feel stuffed b’cause of your cum. Please fill me up--” you whimper out, cutting yourself off when you felt his leaky tip at your wet entrance. 

Just like each time you two have been intimate, he guides himself slowly until he's in to the hilt of his pelvis, “shit, squeezing me so hard- c-an i move?” he moans out. 

Unable to form coherent sentences, you frantically nod and squeak out, “yes!”

With your permission granted, he eases in a thrust before he starts snapping his hips into you.

“Fuck, look at you, milking my cock so good-” he moaned, as he leaned in and kissed you. Each sharp thrust jolted you upwards, proving just how powerful his thrusts were. You threw your arms around his neck for the slight stability.

You began to let out little moans into the kiss that spurr him further; everything was beginning to get to him. How tight you felt around him, the feel of your tongue against his, the sloppy wet noises of your cunt.

“I’m gonna cum-- i'm gonna cum!” he choked out. 

You clawed at his back while whimpering pleas for him to fill you up, “fill me up with your cum, your cock fills me so good, please Hanta, more- more!”

You were clenching around him hard, and to bring you right to his level, he found your puffy clit and began a quick circular motion that made your jaw go slack, causing more frequent clenches.

His mind blurred as he pushed himself the deepest he could, moaning out your name and a gruff curse before emptying himself into you. 

You felt him twitch inside of you right before hot seed coated your already warm walls, and that’s what pushed you into a convulsion of ecstasy. 

He lazily humped his hips into you as you rode out your high before pulling out and rolling next to you.

Calling out your name to bring your attention to him, he pulls you into his chest where you could feel his racing heart, “what if… I started singing that song from hocus pocus? You know the one..” 

What a goof, you thought to yourself, playfully smacking his chest as you roll your eyes, looking up at him. 

“I put a spell on you… and now you're mine…” you begin to whisper, earning a hearty laugh from you boyfriend.

Maybe it was mutual, but quite possibly he had put a spell on you. And you were more than okay with it.

[cotccotc]

♡ 1:26 am ; lonely

set in the domus amoris universe !

genre/s: comfort/angst to fluff, established relationship/domestic au, hyunjin x gn reader

wc: ~1.1k

warnings: reader is shorter than hyunjin but that’s all !!

a/n: omg d.a. is back 🤭 jsd i haven’t been able to write for hyunjin for while because of ,,,reasons...... so i’m a little rusty. it’s a wee bit messy and poorly/sleepily edited BUT i hope y’all like it :)

“what do you do when you feel lonely?” you ask. there’d been a brief moment of silence leading up to your question, during which hyunjin put his arm around you, pulling you closer as the two of you stand beside the bedroom window. neither of you could sleep. the sweeping sound of the nightly breeze is tranquil. but it’s not enough.

despite the chill of night, his presence is warm. he’d pressed a kiss against the top of your head, bringing you in to rest it against his chest before you spoke. when you did, his brow furrowed. concern. “lonely?”

“lonely,” you repeat. “like when i’m not around. when it feels like nobody’s around.”

he pauses. he didn’t expect such musings from you. perhaps, he thinks, this is why you were having trouble sleeping. with you under his arm, he begins to sway, gently shifting his weight back and forth on his feet. you wrap your arm around his middle, leaning against him as he guides you from side to side. “well… i’m not sure.” he’s telling the truth. he understands the feeling more than you might expect. “i usually come and find you.” after a beat, he continues. “but sometimes, if i don’t know how to get to you, i’ll try to concentrate on something else. listening to music, drawing, making something...” he trails off, looking at you. your gaze is pointed straight ahead. “lovey, what’s wrong?” he asks.

you blink a few times. you didn’t realize how serious you might have looked. you quickly flash him a forced smile, muttering a hasty “nothing” before turning your head back toward the window. he knows you’re lying. he stays silent for a little while, holding you close to him and continuing to sway. the wind lets out a soft howl. hyunjin worries for you. maybe he’d done something wrong. though, if that is ever to happen - which it very rarely does - you wouldn’t hesitate to tell him about it. there’s too much love and trust between you for such petty discourse.

“i wouldn’t be upset if you told me you were lonely, you know,” he says.

that’s when it clicks. all the tears you couldn’t bring to the surface finally rise to grace your eyes, blurring your view of the navy blue night outside the window. slowly, as the first droplet descends upon your cheek, you turn to face the one you love so dear. his eyes widen.

immediately, hyunjin wraps his arms around you, prompting you to do the same. you can no longer conceal the weight of the remoteness with which your mind has plagued you, letting your sobs emerge in full intensity. there’s something so freeing about being held so tightly - so tenderly - during a time like this. you can do no wrong. you may simply let everything out, molded back into shape by his engulfing presence like clay in the hand of a sculptor. he shuts his eyes tightly, listening to your choked expressions of anguish and feeling as you shudder in his arms.

“i’m sorry,” you mutter into his chest as the intensity of your weeping begins to diminish. “it’s not your fault.”

he pulls you away from him, looking into your eyes with deep sympathy as he holds onto your shoulders. “it’s not yours either. baby, everybody feels lonely. i do, too, when you’re not with me.”

you sniffle, lifting your eyes to look back into his. your hands remain on his waist as you absentmindedly fiddle with the fabric of his t-shirt. you’re vulnerable. “really?” you murmur.

scoffing, he replies, “of course! i’m obsessed with you!” you giggle. that was his aim. he smiles back at you, admiring your features. he loves it when you smile. when all the world grows silent for but a moment, allowing for his favorite soul to shine. the life in your face is pure enough to bring tears to his own eyes. he cups your cheeks with both of his hands, surveying you closer. his smile diminishes, turning urgent. he then continues, “i love you. you know that right?” you nod in response. “good. don’t forget it. and never forget that you’re not alone either. feeling lonely and being alone are two different things. it’s okay to feel lonely sometimes. but as long as i’m alive, i’ll be with you. you’ll never be alone. okay?”

hearing his words and gazing into his honest eyes, your heartbeat comes to a steady pulse. you love him more than anything in the world. he always knows what to say. you sniffle again. “okay.”

“and to prove it to you,” he adds, pointing a finger toward you and taking your hand in his, guiding you back to the foot of the bed. “i promise to hold you all night long. and all day tomorrow, if you’ll let me.” he smiles. though his tone and expression are playful, you’re aware of the truth behind his sentiment.

“you promise?” you ask, a smile forming on your face.

“i promise.” his voice takes on a mockingly villainous persona as he grips onto your waist, quickly pulling you to him in one swift motion. “you’ll never be able to escape my clutches!” his eyes widen to a comedic degree, squinting in playful villainy. but alas, his growing smile does little to hide his inner goodness. his love.

“luckily for you, i’d never want to,” you tease in response. you’ve nearly forgotten that which had kept you awake all this time. he just has a way of making you forget about your troubles. it’s an indescribable gift.

he does his best evil cackle, lowering his voice and puffing out his chest. as he does so, he slowly lets himself fall backward onto the bed, taking you down with him. you let out a small squeal as you land on top of your giggling lover, surprised by his actions. as you join him in his laughter, he raises his hand to pull your face down to his, connecting your lips in a spontaneous, unfeigned expression of his love for you. kissing you is always more of an instinct than a decision. he can’t help it. there’s no other way, in his mind, to express the depth of his emotions toward you. and with each kiss, you accept and reciprocate his affections.

he pulls away, flipping you onto your back with his hands on your hips. as soon as you land, he’s quick to climb on top of you, wrapping himself around your form as if his life depends on it. you let out a full belly laugh, mainly due to the new pressure he’s applied to your body, as he proudly and wickedly exclaims, “you’re MINE!”

so you are. and he is to you as you are to him. he always will be, no matter how lonely you might feel. what he said is true. as long as he’s here, all of your intrusive thoughts are just that: thoughts. there is a clear distinction to be made between what you think and what you know. and, as bouts of laughter arise from both yourself and your predestined beloved, you know that you are truly never, ever alone.

tags: @stayndays, @hanniiesuckle17, @leggomylino, @freckledberries, @kisskissbanggang, @mr-jisung-main, @childofthecosmos, @kpopscape, @skzwriternet, @hyunsins, @sleepylixie, @sunshine-skz, @vera-liscious, @thatrandomoneinthecorner​, @cyberskz​, @seungminsaidsta, @somethingrandomworld, @ethan806, @siedhr​ ( join my tag list !! )

©️ cotccotc 2021 ~ all rights reserved. do not repost my work on tumblr or other platforms.

[tomtenadia]

A Little Braver - 20

Even if I had a crazy day at work I did manage to do my Monday post as promise... but if you notice typos...I am sorry. I read it and edited but my brain  left with the boat tonight (I work for a ferry company, hence the joke)

This is the first of a few chapters where our bird boy is away and Hamel is causing problems to our gang.

Also, Aelin tries to cook... well... you can imagine how did that go.

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

After the trip to the base Aelin had taken home a very sad Elide and then got back to her own place and cried herself to sleep while hugging Rowan’s pillow. It was very late in the afternoon and it was her day off and she had no intention of leaving her bed.

Her head was buried under the pillow when she heard her phone buzz so she scrambled to get it and her heart raced when she saw it was Rowan.

“Hi,” she said with a croaked vice.

“Are you okay?” Rowan was already in fussing mode.

“Yes I just woke up.” She heard a lot of background noise “where are you?”

“Vulture’s row.” He activated his camera and showed Aelin the view of a fully functional flight deck. “Uh, wait.” He pointed the camera stern of the ship and showed Aelin a jet landing.

“That was so cool.” He turned the camera to him and she saw him with his sunglasses and his hair messed up by the wind. Then he switched off the camera and they went back to normal.

“Are you there yet?”

“We are skirting around. We still have a few hours before we are fully in enemy territory.”

Then Aelin heard a siren of some sort and Rowan swore “I’ll call you as soon as I can again. I need to scramble. Love you.”

“Be safe.” She managed to add before he closed the phone call.

She collapsed again in bed then decided to call Lysandra and Elide and organise a day out the three of them shopping. Elide needed cheering up as well.

The next day Aelin, Elide and Lysandra had decided to have a girls’ afternoon to cheer up the two ladies who had their boys away. They met at the entrance of the shopping centre and Aelin went to hug Elide first of all “how are you doing?”

“Lorcan gave me a brief call yesterday telling me they were on the ship and on their way, then he had to go.”

Aelin sighed “today we don’t think about our far away boys.”

“And maybe you can buy some very sexy lingerie as a present for when Lorcan comes back.” Commented Lysandra and Elide blushed.

“What’s the point?” Asked Elide “you are taking it off anyway.”

Aelin laughed and took Elide’s hand “remember the dress I had at the navy party?”

Elide nodded “it was stunning.”

“I was not wearing anything underneath. It drove Rowan crazy.”

“I have done it a few times with Aedion and I agree with Aelin. The sex afterward has been amazing.”

“How do I learn all these things?”

“Stick with us and we will teach you.”

“Let’s go for some food,” said Aelin, “I haven’t eaten yet.”

“How will you survive now without your sexy chef in the house?” Asked Lysandra.

“Oh, I’ll just go back to my usual order in and ready meals.” Shrugged Aelin who had no intention of even trying to cook anything.

Lysandra took Aelin’s hand and walked toward a restaurant “come on Elide, let’s get this girl properly fed.”

The three women got into the restaurant and sat down and Aelin started perusing the menu eager for some decent food and not long after they placed their order. Lys was right, without Rowan she would be lost when it came to food. Rowan had properly spoiled her.

“How are the wedding preparations going?” Asked Aelin.

Lysandra and Aedion’s wedding was not far away and she was excited to see her best friend finally having her happy ending.

“We are getting there.”

“Do you have a dress yet?” Asked Elide all excited.

Lysandra took out her phone and showed them her dress.

“That is gorgeous. Aedion will not be able to keep his eyes off you during the ceremony.”

“That is the plan.” Lysandra smiled wickedly “but the biggest question is who is going to be next?”

“My money is on Aelin,” chimed Elide “Lor is not emotionally ready for such a step. You and the captain on the other hand…” her eyebrows flicked in amusement.

“She is right, and the two of you basically live together.”

“Yes and no.”

“What do you mean?” Lysandra was confused by the admission.

“We haven’t covered the subject yet. He still has his flat and some of his stuff there. Even after I recovered he never left and I never pushed because I like having him around.”

“Will you ask him to move in officially?”

Aelin sighed “maybe. When he comes back. I don’t know. Things are going well and I don’t want to mess it up.”

“Do you think he’ll say no?” Asked Lysandra. Brainstorming with her friend was always helpful and recently she hadn’t done it enough.

“I don’t think so. But living together is as far as we can go just now. For many, many reasons.”

“Is it because of Sam?”

“Only partially.” She was not going to tell her friends Rowan’s story. She had no right. So she remained vague hoping the two friends would get the hint and not ask anymore questions.

“Still, my money is on you two.” Added Lys “Elide is right, Lorcan does not seem to have yet the emotional ability to commit.”

“Hey, he kissed her in public. And yesterday at the base he seemed quite nice to her.”

“Quite?”

“I don’t know, I was concentrating on Rowan I just cast a brief glance at them.” Replied Aelin.

“He was super kind.” Added Elide taking biting on a breadstick.

Their food finally arrived and Aelin was the first to tuck in.

“Does the captain know about your crazy eating habits?” Asked Lysandra amused.

“Yes,” replied Aelin, enjoying her food “he calls me his bottomless pit. When we had our first date he joked that he might need a mortgage just to feed me.”

Elide laughed “Sam used to joke and say that he needed a second job just for feeding you.”

“I move a lot,” replied Aelin with a grin “I have a big appetite.”

“I think it must be a firefighter thing. Aedion is the same.” Lysandra grinned “and we burn a lot of calories.”

“Eeewwww, I did not need to know that. He is my cousin.”

“Oh come one, as if you and hot captain do not engage in illicit activities. The whole squad guessed that the other night you two had sex in the shower after the call at the club.”

“I was just giving him a special goodbye.” Her hand gently brushed the spot where she could feel his tags. She did a bit of research and she was happy she had a copy. Having the real one meant he was gone and she could not think about that.

“Are you okay?” Asked Lysandra worried at her sudden change of expression.

“Yeah.” She added flatly, then gave them a big smile. It was their day off she should not spoil it.

“So, are we taking Elide lingerie shopping?” Aelin teased trying to raise the spirits of her friend.

“Yes, it’s going to be fun.” Added Lysandra all excited.

“Girls… there is really no need. What I have is okay. Lorcan is not fussed.”

Aelin took a bite of her food “oh but we will make sure he is fussed and also that he knows how sexy you are so he does not decide to…. wander.”

“How do I keep him? I am nowhere near as interesting as the two of you. He might get bored of me very soon.”

Aelin stared at her friend and it broke her heart that her horrible past left her with no confidence at all. Elide was brilliant at her job and she was an intelligent woman and she was positive she would make quite a few heads turn.

“Don’t you say something like that ever again.” Lysandra preceded her. She was even more protective of Elide than her “I work with you everyday and I know how awesome you are and I am positive that if we go to a club you’d have your share of men looking at you.”

Aelin nodded.

They finished their meal and went back wandering around the shopping centre and visited a few shops. In one of them Aelin wandered in the male department and spotted a couple of lovely jumpers. One of them was a deep green and looked very cozy and she realised she had no idea of when it was Rowan’s birthday.

Silly question, you never told me your birthday. She sent the text and knew a reply might take a long time to come. She grabbed the jumper and tried to decide whether it was the right size for him.

“That is a lovely jumper.” Said Lysandra joining her at her side “already thinking about useful presents? You are like an old married couple.”

Aelin laughed.

“But I think this one is really nice and the man seems to look amazing in green.”

“I am just wondering about the size.”

Lysandra grabbed the tag “this one will fit Aedion so you should be fine.”

A moment later Elide rejoined them, her face beetroot red “I feel so silly.” And showed the girls her bag with her lingerie purchase.

“Hey, Ace and I are joking. You didn’t have to buy it if it makes uncomfortable.” But Elide surprised them “I will buy just one pair for now and I’ll see how it goes.”

Lysandra laughed “Aelin is already buying presents married couple style and you are still in the sexy lingerie stage. My girls have grow up so much.”

“And what stage are you and Aedion?” Asked Aelin with a grin.

“The one where I go to the grocery store and I phone him to ask him if he wants beef or chicken for dinner.”

The rest of the afternoon went swimmingly and she loved spending the day with Lys and Elide. They didn’t do that nearly enough.

Now she was back home and in the kitchen trying to accomplish her new mission. She had bought a cooking book for beginners and she had decided she was going to try and cook dinner. Lysandra had told her to start with something as simple as a stir fry. So she had bought a few more kitchen supplies and a pan Lys had told her was called a wok. She had mused why she could not use the pot she already had and Lys had rolled her eyes. Aelin had also bought the ingredients and now they were all lined up in front of her, the book open and a fire blanket and a small fire extinguisher on the counter just to be safe it was her cooking after all. She took a photo and sent it to Rowan then started working. When it got to cut the onions she cursed herself for deciding to cook.

Her phone rang and put it on speaker “hey,” her voice sounded strained and Rowan went in full fussing mode “are you okay?”

“Yeah, cutting those blasted onions.” She sniffled.

Over the line she heard Rowan roar with laughter “what are you making?” He asked as soon as he stopped laughing.

“A chicken stir fry. Lys said it’s easy to do.”

“Why are you putting onions in it?”

“Because I like them, mr I know how to cook.”

“I even bought a wok. Apparently I cannot use my pot.” She added as while throwing the ingredients in the pan.

“Seriously, when I get back we are going to have a massive overhaul of your kitchen.”

And Aelin’s heart raced in joy. It sounded like he had no intention of going back permanently to his flat. Maybe when he got back she should ask him the question after all.

“Aelin, it’s a miracle you have cutlery and two plates.” She could hear the humour in his voice.

“How are things going?”

“I just came off patrol. I am on my way to my quarters to get changed. I don’t have the most appealing scent just now.”

“Shower without me, so what? Two minutes max?”

“That’s about it. The water supply is not endless.”

He finally got to his quarters and collapsed on his bed after removing his boots then lay down and activated the camera.

“Hi sexy,” she did the same and placed the phone against the wall in front of her so he could see her as well.

“I don’t see any smoke. That’s a good start, considering it’s you.”

Aelin gave him the middle finger and then showed him her small fire extinguisher “I am prepared.” She took a bit of her food “for now it tastes edible, but not as good as yours.”

She saw him give her a smug smile and her instinct was to wipe it off his face with a kiss.

“The answer is July 16th, by the way.”

Aelin looked at him not understanding his statement.

“My birthday? You asked me earlier on.”

That she did “That’s two months away.”

“And when it’s yours?”

“May 3rd.”

“Aelin, that’s in two days.” He added sadly “and it sucks I can’t be there.”

“Lys has planned to drag me out with the girls of the firehouse. It’s also her bachelorette party. I have to go.”

“I almost forgot they were getting married. That came around quickly.”

Aelin laughed “not when you have been around them for years.” Aelin placed her food in a plate and moved to the sofa, taking her phone with her.

“When is the wedding?”

“This weekend. The weather is meant to be gorgeous which is a good thing since they are getting married outdoors.”

She heard him sigh “I really, really wish I could be there with you.”

She did not add that she had been thinking the same. So she just took a bite of her food.

“Edible?”

“Fuck no,”Aelin spit the morsel back in the plate “I must have done something wrong with the spices. It tastes horrible.” She grabbed her house phone.

“What are you doing?”

“Clearly ordering in. I am not eating this.”

Rowan rolled his eyes “you should practice more.”

“Why bother? I am clearly not cut for cooking. I am hopeless.”

“Do I need to tell you the amount of times my food sucked when I was still learning to cook decently? I got better with trial and error.”

Aelin huffed “fine I’ll try again on my next day off.” Then she put her house phone down after placing the order “I thought you were going for a shower?”

“Eager to get rid of me?”

“No, I just was hoping to have a peek at that nice arse of yours.”

Rowan laughed “If you behave.”

“Do you have the quarters all for yourself?”

Rowan nodded in the screen “the perks of rank. Gav is sharing with Vaughan. The twins are on their own.”

“Is that wise?”

“This carrier has a nice number of female officers. No one wants to go anywhere near that room.”

“Remember I am jealous, Whitethorn.”

“Some of them are middies on their snot cruise, so very young. The others… still not interested.”

“Who is a middie?”

“It’s short for midshipman or woman. They are the lowest ranking officers in the navy, just above the cadets. And a snot cruise is their first time out at sea on a proper mission.”

“Are your students middies as well?” She loved asking all those questions that might have sounded silly to him, but he never made her feel stupid for asking. He was always happy to answer.

“No, my students are called pilot officers. Then they become Flying officers, then flight lieutenants which is what the twins are, then Vaughan is our squadron leader, Gav is the Wing commander and then you have me.”

“Sounds so complicated.” She definitely needed to do more research to understand his job a bit better.

“It’s like you guys. Aedion looks after one rig as a lieutenant, you are the captain and are in charge of the operations of both at the same time and Dorian will be in charge of all the engines in case multiples houses are involved. Am I correct?”

Aelin nodded impressed.

“Same for us. Vaughan looks after our small squadron, Gav two or three squadrons, which is called a wing. I look after a unit composed of different wings and then Lorcan plays god in the CIC.”

“Now it makes more sense. So I could be your wing commander.”

“Having you fly with us would be insane. We would not concentrate on the enemy.”

Aelin laughed, then the buzzer of the door went off “just a sec, buzzard, food is here.” She went to get her food and plopped back on the sofa resuming her call with Rowan.

“Is your ship nice?”

“I served on her before. Not as swanky as the new one, but she is decent enough.” Rowan sat back up “hey, I really need to take that shower and then it’s chow time. If I miss it I don’t eat until tomorrow morning.”

“Go. Sorry for keeping you.”

“You did not such things. I have been looking forward to call you.”

“I love you.” She told him, sending back the tears that had started forming.

“I love you too, Fireheart.”

Aelin waved him goodbye and went back eating while tears had begun flowing down her cheeks. It had only been two days and she hoped it would get easier being so far apart.

***

The next morning she arrived at the station bright and early, got changed and went straight to Aedion “Are you ready?”

The man nodded “Peter is covering you until we get back from the police and I got Manon in charge of the second rig.”

“Good. Let’s go.”

They arrived at the police headquarters not long after and Chaol met them at the reception area “Hi guys,”

“Here’s my favourite cop.” Aelin went to hug Chaol.

“Just because I keep reporters away from you.”

She gave him a huge smile back.

“Come, detective Ytger is waiting for you.” They followed behind him in silence and stopped in front of a door and knocked.

A female voice told them to go in and once in the office Aelin recognised the same woman at one of the arson cases a few months back.

“Captain, Lieutenant, we meet again.” The three shook hands and the detective sat back down and invited both cousins to do the same.

The detective threw a thick file on the desk “you two have just made a very powerful enemy.”

“The man is a bastard.”

“Believe me, captain, when I tell you that Hamel has been a thorn in my side for a very long time.”

“And why is he still at large? Two people died and the man did not care.”

The woman pinched the bridge of her nose “he has very powerful lawyers and always gets away with murder. We have been working on him for a long time but whatever piece of proof we bring in is never enough to get him behind bars for good.” Aelin could sense the tiredness in her voice.

“Did you close his club as I asked?”

“We did, but he owns almost all the ones in Orynth. And so much more.”

“Can’t you arrest him for murder?” voiced Aedion.

“No, his lawyers showed us the papers of the latest inspections and the place was deemed to code. He blamed the company that did the inspections for lying to him.”

“Detective, I hope you are aware that is a bullshit.” Said Aedion, fury burning under his surface.

“I am well aware.” The woman added almost apologetically “the closure is temporary. It will not stick too long.”

Aelin almost swore “Have the other clubs been checked?”

“We did some undercover recon but we don’t have the full skillset to know what’s up to code.”

Aelin smiled wickedly “well, it’s a good thing that you have a firefighter whose birthday is very soon and was planning to go to a club.”

“You are not dragging Lys and the others in this.”

“Calm down. Hamel does not know them, they are safe. I will wear a disguise.”

“I don’t like the sound of this.” He protested again but he knew Aelin could be stubborn.

“I am coming too.”

“No,” said Aelin “One: Hamel remembers how you lifted him up and he will not forget such act. Two: it’s Lys bachelorette party as well. So, no.” she paused “you can take the guys to another one.”

“What happens if we find both clubs not up to specs?” Asked Aelin worried that it was going to be a lost cause.

“We can start by closing them and gather a bit more time to have more material against him. We have other leads. We just need something significant.”

They discussed with the detective which clubs to hit and they left.

Once in the car Aedion made his displeasure quite clear “I do not like this.”

“Neither do I, but the police has no idea what to look for.” Replied Aelin.

“We are not cops.”

“And they are not firefighters.”

After that they drove in silence all the way back to the station.

***

Two days had passed and Aelin’s birthday had arrived. She arrived at the station and laughed at the scene. One of the rigs was covered in balloons and a sign saying happy birthday, cap and the second rig was for Aedion and Lysandra and the front of the truck had a long white sheet over it that looked like a bridal veil and two massive papier mache rings attached to the front.

She laughed and joined Ansel and Manon who were doing some checks “did everyone see this?” She pointed at the engine and truck. The two women nodded.

“Then let’s clear it. I do not want to go on a call in that state.”

“Yes, captain.” Said the two women in unison. 

The locker room was empty and she sat down on the bench and looked at her phone again. She was hoping for a text from Rowan or a call but nothing yet. She kept telling herself that he was busy and probably out flying. She removed his dog tags and hung them in the locker and stood and stared at the pictures she had hung up. It was some of the photos they had taken in Doranelle. With her finger she brushed a photo of him. He was standing and looking up to the sky. His eyes closed and a small smile painted on his face and his hair all tousled after she had messed it up. It was one of her favourite photos of him. “Be safe, please.” And she blew him a kiss.

Aelin got dressed and then reached the team who was having breakfast in the communal room.

“She is here.” Shouted Nox happily.

Luca grabbed her arm and pulled to the table where a cake was waiting for her.

“Chocolate hazelnut cake. Your favourite.” He cut a slice and offered it to her.

Aelin grabbed it eagerly “mmmmm”

“Get a room you two,” shouted Ress.

A moment later Manon came through with a man carrying a large box “he says this is for you, captain.”

“Thanks, Manon.”

Aelin grabbed the box from the courier and sat down on the sofa. It came from a shop in Orynth. Strange. She opened the box and when she peeked inside she saw a massive stuffed toy. Once she lifted it she realised it was a bird and she had a feeling she knew who it was from.

“A bird? Why a bird?” Asked Lysandra.

Aelin smiled, grabbed the stuffed toy and walked to her bunk to be alone when she noticed the letter inside.

Once alone she sat down on her bed and placed the bird at her side and read the letter

Happy birthday, fireheart.

I wish I could be there for you but I can’t and it hurts more than I thought possible.

If you are reading this, you have met your new friend. I could not find a buzzard but a toy shop in Orynth had a white-tailed hawk and since I have silver hair I thought it was the closest option. Do we look similar? He will keep you company while I can’t be there with you.

I will try and call you tomorrow if I get a free moment, but the guys and I have pulled alert crew duty for the day so no phone for me.

Have fun with the girls and leave the other guys alone especially if they are navy and army.  Aelin chuckled at the joke

I miss you already.

I love you. Madly. 

To whatever end.

Yours, 

Buzzard.

By the time she had finished reading the letter she was in tears. She hugged the soft toy and for a moment she hoped to smell his scent of pine and snow. She went to her locker, grabbed the dog tags and put them around the bird’s neck “you look after them while I am on shift, but then I take them back.” After that she took a photo and sent it to Rowan “I think I will call him Rowan.”

**

It was later that night and Lysandra and Elide were at Aelin’s place to get ready for their fun night. Aelin though, was not in the mood. Rowan had eventually called her but the phone call was cut short when he had go and scramble. Soft toy Rowan was on her bed, his dog tags back on since she would not be wearing them with her dress.

Lysandra was going through her wardrobe looking for a dress for the night.

“So, the captain does have clothes that are not uniform,” said the woman going through his clothes but Aelin glared at her and Lys went back to Aelin’s side of the dresser.

“Did he phone you?”

“Yeah.” Said Aelin flatly while wearing her dress.

“Lorcan said they were having a couple of shitty days.”

Aelin ignored her friend or she would end up in tears and ruin her make up.

“Did he give you his dog tags?” Asked Lys noting them pending from the bird’s neck.

“No, he can’t. He made a copy. And I don’t want the original ones until he retires.”

“Why?” Asked Elide while she was busy fixing her hair.

“Because it means he is dead. They are used for identification.” Replied Lysandra flatly. She had learned that from Aedion.

“Can we please change subject?” Snapped Aelin.

Lysandra grabbed a green dress “what do you think?”

“It will go perfectly with your eyes.” Said Aelin wearing her blue dress.

“I thought you loved the captain.” Said Elide.

“Uh?”

“That dress?” Added Lys pointing at her attire “it makes you look as if you are open to being chased.”

“Too slutty?”

“Ansel will be proud of you.”

Aelin smiled “I do love the captain and I have no plans on taking anyone home. My only companion in bed tonight will be bird Rowan.” Then she wore a wig of red hair.

“Why the wig?”

Aelin and Aedion had decided not to tell anyone about their plan for the night, so she had to lie although it hurt lying to Lysandra “just for some fun.”

They arrived at the club half an hour later and Manon, Asterin and Ansel were already there and apparently already having fun.

“You made it” shouted the red-haired woman. “And who is the hot red-haired friend?”

“It’s me, Ansel.”

“Captain, you look hot.”

Aelin laughed “thank you.”

“We got some drinks already,” said Manon.

“Happy birthday, captain,” said Asterin raising her glass “and congratulation to Lys for bagging the meanest lieutenant in the TFD.”

Their glasses clinked and then Aelin spotted Chaol in the distance. What the heck was he doing at the club? She nodded at him and he gave her a small nod back. Everyone knew Chaol and if the girls spotted him it could raise some questions so she texted him with the pretence of being the overbearing girlfriend checking on her man.

The girls went out dancing and she stood behind saying she was not in the mood when she was actually trying to check out the place. She was about to join Chaol in his hideout when a guy stopped at her side and blocked her way “aren’t you a stunning creature?” He said and Aelin cringed. She really hated clubs and the pigs that came with them.

“Of course I am.”

She felt his arm sneak around her waist and his body move closer to hers and she closed her eyes at the fact that those arms were not Rowan’s.

“What if I buy you a few drink and have some fun you and I?”

“You couldn’t handle me.” She said to him in a whisper.

“I love a good challenge. My flat is not far from here.” And his hand slithered up on her back.

Aelin scoffed “I’d never have sex with you even if we were the last two humans left in the world.”

She made to walk away but he grabbed her arm. She almost punched him but in that instant she felt someone hugging her from behind “it’s me, follow my lead.” He whispered in her ear and she noticed it was Chaol.

“Thank you for finding my girlfriend. I went to the gents and I lost her.”

“Sorry darling,” said Aelin caressing Chaol’s face.

The stranger walked away annoyed.

“Thank you.”

“You were holding your own anyway.” He commented.

“I was about to punch him and cause a scene and mess up the mission.” She whispered then grabbed his hand and pulled him to a quiet booth at the back of the club

“What are you doing here?”

“Detective Ytger sent me here as back up. Hamel’s minions know all of the detectives but not us beat cops.”

“How do you want to proceed?” She asked him.

“You are the firefighter, I am just here to make sure you get out okay.”

“Ok, I need to walk around. Just keep an eye on me.” Chaol nodded and Aelin walked away.

She went back to the bar area and smiled when Elide walked toward her “Ace!! Come on it’s your birthday, you need to come and have fun.” She also had a job to do but felt bad at abandoning her friends. So she joined them again and Lys grabbed her for some dancing.

“How how many hearts did you break?”

“Just the one but he was a pig.”

“Did you tell him you have a super hot captain waiting for you?” 

Aelin shrugged and turned to Elide.

“How many drinks did Ansel give you?”

Elide lifted three fingers in front of her face “two.”

Aelin laughed “no more alcohol for you.”

“Buuut I am sad and I miss Lorcan.” Aelin hugged her friend knowing full well how she felt.

“Still, no more alcohol, you just can’t hold it.”

She walked Elide to Manon “can you keep an eye on her please? And just water please. Elide has reached her alcohol quota for the evening.”

“Of course.”

Aelin smiled at the white-haired woman. She was very introverted and of a very few words but she did not care about that since she was good at her job. She was the complete opposite of Ansel.

Speaking of the woman…”where did Ansel go?”

“Last time I have seen her she was dancing with a brunette.” Aelin dragged a hand on her face “I am going to the ladies. Just behave, okay?”

She used the excuse to slip away and walk around as she was supposed to do. She wanted to try and take some photo as proof but covert operations were not her forte.

“You are back,” whispered Chaol at her back.

“I’ll pretend to be drunk and lost.”

“Be careful, this is making me nervous.”

She nodded and walked away from him. Part of her was glad she had not mentioned this to Rowan, he would have gone in full protective mode.

She kept pretending she was drunk and dumb and ended up in the kitchen “sorry,” she slurred, leaning against the doorframe “are these the loos?”

“No miss,” said one of the staff “they are down there and on your right.” She gave the man a goofy smile and a wet kiss on the cheek “thank you, sweet man.” The hug had given her the time to have a very quick look in the kitchen and note there was no safety equipment. That was enough for her to shut down that club as well. How could they run a kitchen that way? She really had to take down the bastard. She hid in the shadows of the club and and checked the fire doors without activating them and found them of shoddy quality. She was fuming. She had a good look at the club and realised even the numbers of people allowed in was probably over the limit. Those doors were for 60 people, she could only see three on ground level, which meant a limit of 180 people. There were probably over three hundred, all crammed and spread on two levels. It was a firefighter nightmare. She ran back to Chaol “go home. I have seen enough. Tell the detective this place needs to be shut down as well.”

“I’ll phone her as soon as I am out. She was waiting for news anyway.”

“Go, and say hi to Yrene.”

Chaol left and she ran back to her friends nervous that she was placing them in danger. She wanted to go but the idea of leaving all those people behind made her nervous. She texted Aedion and rage surged back when he told her that their club was the same.

The girls took her dancing in the middle of the dance floor and danced away ignoring a couple of guys basically dancing on her. She hated clubs so much and the music was horrible. She bit down her annoyance and went to hug Lysandra “how does it feel to be almost married?”

“Weird.” She looked at Aelin “are you having fun?”

“You know I don’t like clubs but I came for you, it’s your night after all.”

“It’s your birthday too.”

Aelin shook her head “I get one every year, you better marry my cousin and stick to him.”

“And you stick to the captain. I want to come to your wedding.”

Aelin laughed “we’ll see…” then she turned and saw Elide leaning against the counter half asleep “what if we take the party to my place? I am sick of this place.”

“Please,” said Manon in a hopeful tone. She hated clubs as well “we can get alcohol on the way home. If I hear another man asking me why my hair is white I am going to start snapping necks.”

“Hey Manon, no need to snap necks,” then Aelin looked around for Ansel.

“I’ll get her,”said Asterin when she noticed the woman in the distance.

The woman came back with Ansel in tow and moved closer to Aelin “the fire exits are not enough and one is blocked.” She whispered.

“I know, I am going to call Peter and explain the situation to him.” She took her phone out “take the others to the cars. I’ll be there in a moment.”

Aelin watched Asterin walking the group to safety then hid in dark a corner and phoned Peter explaining that they had to pretend they had an anonymous call and come and pay a visit to the place and shut it down. The man agreed after she explained him the situation in terms of safety. She was playing dirty but could not care less. People’s lives were at stake. Hamel could just go and impale himself for all she cared.

Quickly she left the building and she went to her car joining Lys and Elide. The remaining women were in Manon’s car.

They stopped for booze on the way and finally got back home. Aelin took Elide piggyback style as the woman had fallen asleep. Once in the flat she placed Elide in the spare bedroom and covered her with a blanket then went back to the rest of the group camped in her living room. A text from Peter told her that the club had been safely evacuated and closed. Apparently he had found even more infractions that she had not the time to spot. 

“Ok, ladies back to the party.” Aelin grabbed a mixed selection of glasses and mugs for the beer.

Ansel stood and went to use the bathroom and came back a few minutes later “why do you have guy’s stuff on the bathroom shelf? Do you live with the silver fox?”

Aelin sighed “Rowan has been living here since I was discharged from the hospital.”

“That was a while ago.”

“I know.” Aelin sighed.

“Yes!” Shouted Ansel pulling Aelin toward her “our captain is shacking up. I am so proud of you.”

After a few drinks, Ansel would become very friendly with anyone. It was a good thing they had left the club.

In that instant she got a text from Aedion saying that he had activated the fire alarm in their club and evacuated the whole place after he had spotted a shit ton of infractions. Well, that was probably another club down. Definitely not what they had agreed with the detective but they had to do something.

“Ok, since this is a bachelorette party as well, we can have a bit of spiciness.” Said Asterin while drinking her beer “unusual place where you had sex. We need to give Lys some ideas.”

“Do we?” Joked Aelin “Lys would definitely teach us something.” Then everyone looked at Ansel “after her of course.”

“I once hooked up with civilian pilot and we did it in his cockpit before he got to fly the plane”

“Where you flying as well?” Asked Lysandra curious.

Ansel nodded “it’s a long story.”

“Aelin, you are up. I bet the captain is wild.” Lysandra’s eyebrows lifted suggestively.

“He is pretty amazing but the strangest places have been a beach, the sea, behind a waterfall, a pool at the foot of two different waterfalls and almost on a military ship.”

“Almost?” Asked Manon curious.

“I’ll show you the dress.”

Aelin went to get her black dress and got back a moment later “and he knew I had nothing underneath.”

The group of women cheered loudly “that must have driven him insane.” Joked Asterin.

“That’s why the almost. We would have been in a lot of trouble if we got caught.”

“I have nothing left to teach you.”Ansel was sprawled on a chair and lifted her beer in acknowledgment.

“Lys?”

The woman blushed savagely “in a car wash. Aedion and I stayed in the car while it was getting washed and… well.. it was quick but fun.”

“Definitely nothing to teach you,” Aelin clinked her bottle with her friend.

“Asterin?”

“My previous firehouse, with one of my colleagues on top of a rig on a night shift.”

Manon gave a light chuckle “was it when you were at the Regional 2?”

Asterin nodded “he was some hot firefighter. We are still friends. We did it once and then it felt so weird and never happened again.” She explained.

Aelin sighed “The night of the mayor’s party, Thomas and I hooked up. We ended up at my place. We did it, realised it was rebound sex and finished the night with tv and junk food.” Thinking about him still pained her.

“No friggin way. More than the kiss?” Asked Lysandra shocked.

Aelin nodded “after you saw us kissing I left, he found me, we went back to my place.”

Aelin looked around and noticed that no one wanted to make too many comments, his death was still too fresh for everyone and he had been Manon’s and Asterin’s captain.

“Does Rowan know?”

“I told him and he is fine. We were nothing at the time and I was mad at him.”

In that instant Elide joined the group and Aelin stood and went to her “hey, how are you feeling?”

“My head hurts.” Replied the woman leaning against Aelin.

“I should take her home. We are working tomorrow we should all go home.”

“Lys is right,” added Asterin “another 24hrs shift ahead, we need some sleep.”

Manon and Asterin offered to take Ansel home and Aelin remained with Lys and a sleepy Elide.

“I am sorry the evening sucked.”

“Hey,” Lysandra placed her hands on Aelin’s shoulders “it didn’t, and to be honest we were all quite tired. All it matters is to marry that annoying cousin of yours.”

“Take Elide home, she is about to go to sleep again.”

Once Aelin was alone she finally shed the dress and opened one of Rowan’s drawers and grabbed a t-shirt. They were usually far too big for her but she loved them as pyjama. She went to the bathroom, got ready and then finally got in bed with bird Rowan and squeezed close to his pillow to inhale his scent.

She grabbed her phone and found a text from Rowan

I hope you had a nice evening. I wish I had been there with you because it’s bad out here. I hope bird me is keeping you company. Have a nice night, Fireheart. Love you.

Aelin’s heart sank at the anguish in his voice. She tried to call him but had no answer.

I love you, come back to me, was all she managed.

She squeezed bird Rowan and tried very hard to fall asleep.

TAGS:

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@swankii-art-teacher​

@courtofjurdan​

@whimsicallyreading​

@tillyrubes10​

@surielandiareendgame​

@aelin-bitch-queen​

@bruiseonthefaceofhumanity 

[missfangirll]

If im not too late, I'd request anything for Beiyuan/Wu Xi. There are so few works out there for them :c

So, I wanted to write some XiYuan fluff and somehow ended up writing Dad!Beiyuan bonding with Chengling, Beiyuan thirsting after his husband and a sort-of-fix-it for WoH episode 36?? 😅

The plot follows the show, after episode 36, but their shared past in the novel (Qi Ye) did happen, if that makes sense? 😅 Sorry for the confusion.. The title is a Chinese poem called 蝶恋花 by Liu Yong.

Anyway, here's some XiYuan fluff/dad!Beiyuan/WoH fix-it? 😂😂

- - - - -

Fandom: Qi Ye, Word of Honor Rating: General Relationship: Wu Xi/Jing Beiyuan, Jing Beiyuan & Zhang Chengling Tags: Fluff, Bonding, Beiyuan thirsting after his husband, Fix-it of sorts Words: 2565 Summary: In an inn, Jing Beiyuan and Wu Xi, together with Zhang Chengling, await the return of Zhou Zishu and Wen Kexing, who have run off to die on a mountain. Beiyuan has to care for Zishu's disciple, while being distracted by his husband.

Read on AO3

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Butterflies in Love with Flowers

Jing Beiyuan has plenty of practice waiting.

He has waited for sixty years at the Three-Life Stone, has waited for Helian Yi for six lifetimes. Has waited in the Imperial City for his schemes and machinations to bear fruit, has waited for Wu Xi. He has plenty of practice.

Which doesn’t mean, however, that he is a patient man.

Jing Beiyuan paces the inn room he shares with his husband, deliberately walking closely past Wu Xi who is sitting cross-legged at the low table reading, looking entirely unperturbed. Much to Jing Beiyuan’s dismay, that is to say, so he brushes Wu Xi’s back with the seam of his sleeve every time he walks by.

Wu Xi doesn’t react for a while, but after the sixth turn, without saying a word, he casually grabs Jing Beiyuan’s sleeve and, turning slightly, pulls him down in his lap, effectively trapping him there with both arms tightly around him.

Jing Beiyuan is a lot of things, but he's not an idiot, and he would never let an opportunity pass to cuddle his husband. With a deep sigh, he settles into the other’s embrace, leaning his head on Wu Xi’s broad chest.

“I am worried,” he admits eventually.

Stroking his hair soothingly, Wu Xi just hums in quiet understanding.

"I'm worried about the two idiots on the mountain," he adds, as if that wasn't obvious, and Wu Xi, as expected, doesn't reply. Jing Beiyuan continues, unbothered by his husband's lack of reaction. "I keep telling the little idiot," here he pauses to marvel at the fact that he distinguishes his companions merely by the grade of their idiocy, then sighs inwardly, "that his shifu and shishu are fine, that he should focus on his training in order to have something to show his shifu upon his return, but sometimes I…." He trails off, snuggling closer into the other's neck.

Zhang Chengling isn't coping well with the fact that both his mentors left with the intention to die on that mountain, albeit with different purposes in mind, and Jing Beiyuan has had to forcefully stop him from climbing that mountain himself, twice by now. For now he seems to have begrudgingly accepted his fate, although Jing Beiyuan can see his outbursts of anger for the fear they are.

He inhales deeply, willing his thoughts to calm down. All they have to do now is wait, wait for Zishu and his little maniac to return safely, and return they will, he has no doubts about it. He can’t, for Chengling’s sake.

A knock on the door interrupts the silent moment and with a groan, Jing Beiyuan clambers out of his husband’s lap to open the door, while said husband reaches for his abandoned book. The elderly innkeeper in front of him doesn’t spare a glance at Jing Beiyuan’s slightly ruffled hair, fiddling with the cap in his hands. At the other’s raised eyebrow, he bows so deep his forehead seems to touch his knees, and Jing Beiyuan has to bite back a grin.

“Yes?”, he asks magnanimously. The man shifts uncomfortably. “Your highness,” he begins, but Jing Beiyuan interrupts him with a hand on his shoulder. “I am certainly not worthy of such a noble title, my good man, just call me Lord Seventh, and speak freely. What bothers you?”

The other man bows again, not as low as before, but it still looks uncomfortable. “Your lordship,” he begins, and Jing Beiyuan sighs, hearing a slight huff of laughter from behind. Wu Xi knows of his resentment against his past life and the decorum it entailed. “Your lordship,” the man repeats, sounding increasingly desperate. “Your, umm.. The young master… He… The courtyard…” He doesn’t finish his sentence, but Jing Beiyuan has a vague idea of what he is trying to say, so he just nods and breezes past the innkeeper, who hastily shuts the door and scrambles to follow him.

From the inn’s inner courtyard he can already hear a dull thudding noise that grows louder as he approaches. In the yard, next to a small wooden shack, he finds the source of the noise: Zhang Chengling, gracelessly hitting the timber wall with a training sword, his face and back sweaty, his hair in disarray, his mouth a thin line. Jing Beiyuan nods to the innkeeper, who retreats to another building, then slowly approaches the boy, keeping his distance from the sword. Leaning on the wooden wall, he stays silent, observing Zishu’s disciple. The boy has grown a finger’s breadth over the last weeks, his body starting to stretch, his face about to lose the softness of childhood. He has seen a lot these past months, Jing Beiyuan muses, and feels infinite fondness for the little idiot.

Zhang Chengling has seen him, of course, but doesn’t make any move to stop his grim assault on the shack, so Jing Beiyuan says after a while, “You might want to use a real sword when you intend to put a hole in that thing.” His teasing doesn’t gain a reaction, however, the boy still hacking away at the wood. “Chengling,” he says after a while, softly, gently, “they will return.”

“I know,” comes the strained reply, but the beating doesn’t stop. The hits seem to grow less forceful, though, and Jing Beiyuan inches closer. “If Tian Chuang had succeeded,” he adds quietly, “we would know.” He looks directly at Chengling who stubbornly avoids his gaze, but his movements slow further, until he swings the sword like a flag bearer his banner in a parade. Jing Beiyuan carefully closes the distance, intercepting the last swing with his hand, gripping the wooden sword. He notices its shaking, and it’s only a heartbeat before Chengling collapses into his arms, letting go of the sword and wrapping both arms around him in a desperate embrace. Jing Beiyuan lowers the sword, then enfolds the boy in his arms, a hand on the back of his head, and lets him sob quietly into his shoulder.

“I miss them,” the boy snuffles into his robes, his face hidden. “Sometimes I dream about them, dead and cold, buried under all that snow and I…” He hiccups, then starts sobbing again. Jing Beiyuan breathes slowly. A few days after Zishu, and then the Ghost Valley Master, ascended the mountain, there had been news of an immense avalanche that had buried a large group of people, presumably the joined forces of the Window of Heaven and the Scorpion King. But nothing had reached them since, and all of them had grown restless, even Wu Xi, even though he would never admit to it.

A hand on the boy’s back, Jing Beiyuan rubs soothing circles. “Come with me,” he says at last, “Let’s go inside and have some tea, hm?” A nod, then Chengling takes a step back, sheepishly rubbing his red eyes. “‘m sorry,” he mumbles, but Jing Beiyuan just huffs. “Never be sorry for how you feel,” he admonishes gently, putting an arm around the boy’s shoulder, subtly scooping the wooden sword up with the other hand. “Let’s have some tea and sweets, what do you say?” Chengling sniffs again, then says with the hint of a smile, “Didn’t the Great Shaman explicitly forbid us to eat sweets before dinner?” Jing Beiyuan makes a carefree gesture, then, lowering his voice, adds in a conspiratorial tone, “We have to hide it, then,” which finally makes Chengling laugh. A lighter air around them, they stroll back to the room. (Wu Xi gives them a stern look as Jing Beiyuan retrieves a bag of sweets from his sleeve, but says nothing when they share some over tea, which Jing Beiyuan secretly finds endlessly endearing.)

⚘⚘

The next morning finds Jing Beiyuan on a bench in that same courtyard, at the other side this time, half hidden under a canopy hung with ivy. In the middle of the courtyard, illuminated by the rising sun, Wu Xi is practicing his martial arts.

Jing Beiyuan admires everything about his little venom. His honesty, his loyalty, his unrestrained emotions, but watching the other train always leaves him breathless and with a dry mouth. Wu Xi, in his usual black robes, is a sight to behold: Even under layers of cloth his broad shoulders are visible, his long black braids with the silver hairpiece, the moon mirrored in a clear lake at night. Wu Xi in his robes is a force to be reckoned with. Wu Xi without his robes, in just some black pants, is… Well. Enticing enough to make Jing Beiyuan leave the bed before sunrise and watch him train, even after being together for years and having seen his husband naked plenty of times. Still, watching him move through the forms is different. His skin glistens with sweat, making the light catch on his collarbones, his abs. His movements show a raw power, a graceful intensity that always reminds Jing Beiyuan of a large tiger. He moves silently, with deadly precision, as if he wanted to sneak up on a hidden assassin. He doesn’t use a weapon, but Jing Beiyuan knows how strong he is, how fast, and is pretty sure that a sword would only slow him down.

Distractedly petting the sable that is curled contentedly in his lap, Jing Beiyuan marvels at his husband, until Wu Xi ends his performance with a graceful vault, landing on his hands and feet like a large cat. His hair, tied back only with a simple black leather cord, falls over his face with the movement, his eyes like glimmering coals behind the black curtain. It reminds Jing Beiyuan of their early days, of the time Wu Xi wore a veil, and he himself a mask of another kind. Trying to hide the slight shiver, he smiles at his sweaty husband who now approaches him. Before he can say anything, Wu Xi steps between his knees, carefully scooping up the sable, then reaching down to cup the nape of Jing Beiyuan’s neck. With a hint of restrained power, he pulls him up and into a searing kiss. Smiling against his lips, Wu Xi whispers, “Room,” and Jing Beiyuan lets himself be pulled.

It’s still early enough in the morning that they don’t have to be overly cautious, so when they shed their respective robes - and pets, Wu Xi’s tiny green snake gets set in its cage, while the sable leaps nimbly away from the commotion - Jing Beiyuan can’t suppress a giggle at his husband’s eagerness.

“What brought this on?”, he asks, a little breathless, as the other’s teeth close over his pulse point. Wu Xi stills for a heartbeat, then bites down harder, licking over the spot, which elicits a shiver.

“You,” is the answer, and Jing Beiyuan pulls away a fraction to look at his husband with a raised eyebrow. “I can’t remember doing anything out of the ordinary,” he smirks, “whereas you were--”

“You watched,” Wu Xi breathes into his neck, leaning back in. With another giggle, Jing Beiyuan lets himself be pulled to the bed.

Later, when they lay under scrunched up covers, sated and sweaty and content, Jing Beiyuan nuzzles into Wu Xi’s chest, inhaling his sharp scent.

“Would you do that,” he asks eventually, his voice quiet. “Sacrifice your life, I mean. For me.”

“Yes,” is all Wu Xi answers, firm and without hesitation. “I would. I will. Everything.” His arms tighten around Jing Beiyuan. After a long silence, the latter says softly, “But what if I didn’t want that?” He turns slightly to look up. “What if I didn’t want a life that’s bought with yours?”

Wu Xi doesn’t meet his gaze as he replies, “I still would. I couldn’t bear the thought of being without you, Beiyuan. I’m a coward, but I couldn’t. I thought I’d lost you once, and I..” His voice breaks, and Jing Beiyuan reaches up to cup his face. “You’re not. I would like to say that I would react differently, but…” He shrugs with a wry smile. “I wouldn’t. If I could save your life by giving up mine, I would. I would, and then wait for you again at the Three-Life Stone, until you came to meet me. And maybe this time, you would be the one with white hair.” Snuggling closer, he trails a finger over the other’s chest, then places his hand on his sternum, feeling the unrestrained energy underneath. Wu Xi turns his head, then cups Jing Beiyuan’s cheek, meeting him in a slow, languid kiss.

“I love you,” he breathes against the other’s lips, “I have loved you for all your lifetimes and I will continue to love you in all that follow. Where you go, I’m going, Beiyuan.”

⚘⚘

It takes almost another month until Zishu and his little-, no, his giant idiot return. On a sunny afternoon, as if they had just been out for a stroll, they saunter casually into the inn’s dining room, and Jing Beiyuan almost drops his teacup, staring in disbelief. Before he can say anything, Zishu grins - he grins! - at him and plops down into the bench opposite him, Wen Kexing at his side. Jing Beiyuan notices in utter shock that the latter’s hair has gone completely white.

“Wha--,” he starts, but now the waiter has spotted them, hurrying over. Giving their, admittedly quite ragged, appearance a cautious once-over, he clears his throat, but Jing Beiyuan hurries to assuage him. “Whatever these gentlemen desire to eat,” he declares, probably with more grandeur than necessary, “they will receive.” The waiter hurries to nod his head like a turtle, but Zishu just shakes his head. “Just cold water,” he says, much to Jing Beiyuan’s and the waiter’s astonishment, but the latter immediately scrambles off to bring them their order.

Jing Beiyuan looks scrutinizingly at both of them, then says slowly, “Welcome back.” Zishu nods solemnly, taking Wen Kexing’s hand under the table. “Sorry it took so long,” he says quietly. Jing Beiyuan snorts. “You don’t have to apologise to me,” he gestures into the general direction of the inner courtyard, “but to your silly little disciple.” Zishu at least has the decency to flinch, looking uncomfortable. But it is Wen Kexing who speaks first. “How is he?”, he asks, and Jing Beiyuan notices the cautious fondness in his voice. Shrugging, he admits, “There are good days and bad.” After a pause, he adds, more quietly, “And good nights and bad.” Zishu nods, as if in agreement, and Jing Beiyuan’s curiosity wins over. “What happened?”, he asks animatedly, gesturing to the state of their robes, then Wen Kexing’s hair. “You were gone almost two months, and--”

Zishu interrupts him, sounding incredulous. “Two months?” He casts an uncertain glance at his companion who looks equally stunned. “Oh.” Inhaling slowly, he adds, “Well, I’d prefer to tell the story only once, so where is that useless disciple of mine?” Grinning, Jing Beiyuan gestures again to the inner courtyard. “Training.” Zishu gives him a skeptical look, then gets to his feet. Ignoring the waiter who just arrived with their order, he heads for the inner courtyard. Jing Beiyuan tilts his head a fraction, looking at Wen Kexing, both smiling slightly. Then, from outside, “SHIFU!”, and a dull thud, followed by another muffled “Shishu!”.

Smiling into his teacup, Jing Beiyuan closes his eyes. Some stories seem to have a happy ending after all.

[twst-campos13]

ah hello!! i'm literally so excited to see a blog for enby and male readers sodjfoijf,,could i maybe request a scenario where male reader is a staff member (idk?? like a librarian?? a nurse??? do they need nurses over there???) and is crushing on crewel but is too scared to confess because he's both Too Dense to pick up any signs of potential reciprocation and also just isn't sure if crewel likes men??? maybe. maybe with a happy ending though because i am a fool,, thank you very much!!

One hopelessly cheesy scenario coming up!! Thank you for requesting! I hope you don’t mind I made reader a librarian who may or may not be a bit of a romantic because i listened to a particular playlist while writing this- (commentary in notes!)

Warnings: none! Tags: male!reader, fluff!

A simple man such as you live a simple life. As simple as life can be in Night Raven College, that is. A prestigious school that holds a student body that can barely tolerate each other. It would be typical for a librarian to be the observer than the observed, but hey, if it means getting out of trivial matters of the school and enjoying the show in your personal bubble, then you have no complaints.

This attitude of yours did come to have its own consequences. You were seen as timid by most students as you were quite closed-off, taking it as a reason to poke fun at you sometimes. You proved them wrong when they step out of line with their fun. Most of the time you choose to ignore them. However, you lived up to your introverted nature, especially when it comes to him.

Tall, dark, and handsome. Approachable but also not at the same time. Sharply dressed and sharp attitude. This man that visits the library ever so often had become your daily motivation to keep on working at this school despite the wage that Crowley gives you.

Divus Crewel, feared and admired by staff and students—also known as the man who stole your heart.

You feel so small compared to him. That would not be so farfetched. He is a remarkable man, and what about you? You are just a librarian at this school. You are like mere dust to him.

Yet, despite this, you continued yearning for him no matter how ridiculous it seems. Perhaps you have fallen too deep in romantic fiction that you make hopeless wishes. You are known to be excellent in reading people but for some reason, you find it hard to read Divus. His perfect posture whenever he would scan the Applied Sciences aisle showed that he is focused on his reading. However, it is his expression you find hard to decipher. He looks dashing as ever, of course, but his thin lips and neutral gaze makes it hard for you to know what he is thinking.

If your life is a novel it would be so easy to know what runs in his mind. What he feels for you. Maybe he could even know what you feel for him. In a story, what makes characters likable is knowing what their emotions, their feelings, their ambitions, and their dreams are, for they are already laid out in ink on pages. Implicit or explicit information, simple or complex structure of personality, it does not matter. You would easily know about them for they are just sentences away from understanding.

And in romance novels…oh, how dreamy they are. How easy they make it seem to fall in love, to confess, and to achieve a happy ending. However, as a librarian, you know the reality of your situation. Your relationship with Crewel is a professional. Strictly, if you were to add an adjective. Is it really strictly professional? Your right brain points out the moments in your life where you interacted with him. At faculty meetings, reunions, at the library…moments like those just feel surreal you almost believed that you made those up on your own. Probably because you initiated each of those interactions yourself.

The only time, where Crewel would come to you himself, are rare. One time he came to the library and checked out a book to read in his spare time. His voice distracted you. It was like cherry wine. Sweet, smooth, enough to make your throat dry and your cheeks flushed. Oh, you could listen to him talk for hours in that tone of his, and he could even make you do anything he pleases.

You greet each other good morning or good afternoon when you pass by each other, and he would smile a teasing one at you as if you two shared a secret with each other. Well, technically you did, for one time you bought him coffee under the pouring rain, and he repaid you for your kindness. Soon enough your coffee exchange became a routine for both of you. It was sweeter than the cream in his coffee. It was more refreshing than the rainy day you shared with each other.

His gaze. His posture. His voice. His smile. Despite those small interactions with each other you are still troubled by what he thinks of you. A friend? A colleague? A special someone? Why is this so hard? Why was it so easy to fall in love? And when things could not get worse for you, your left brain argued that he might not be interested to mingle with a man.

Well, you could find out for yourself, but that would be creepy. Your workspace is in the library! You could not just leave when you please just so you can observe him. You could not use the staff files to your advantage—that is being a borderline stalker. Whatever Crewel’s orientation is, is his to keep and his to disclose to you. Oh, but still. If this were a novel, you could easily analyze the situations that give off evidence of him liking men. Or liking someone like you.

If that were the case you would not have a hard time trying to decipher his words, his gaze, his tone, and his actions towards you. If that were the case…if that were the case…then…well, there’s no then. Divus Crewel is not a fictional character to analyze. He is your coworker, your colleague.

It is hard to know what he thinks of you, at all. You really wished that you could…but the thought of knowing what he thinks to scare you, as well.

Rejection is not that far from reality. Who are you compared to him again? A nobody. A simple, ‘timid’, librarian that enjoys reading romantic and fiction novels and inserts himself in scenarios he makes up for himself just so he can…find the happiness he wishes to have.

But Divus is your happiness. Became your source of happiness. Ironic how he colors the muted floor of the library with his monochromatic appearance. Maybe it is better that you keep your feelings to yourself. You avoid the risk of rejection and humiliation as well as ruining whatever it is your current relationship with Crewel is.

You barely registered the visitor in front of your desk until a familiar red leathery gloved hand rested atop of yours. The contact of the leather sent a spark of electricity through you that you snapped your head up to meet alluring silvery blue eyes. There is only one person in this college that owns those distinct, beautiful, silvery blue eyes.

Divus.

“Have I interrupted your moment of peace, sir?” He asked in that cherry wine voice of his. It made your throat dry up and your face warm. “N-No—no!” You squeaked, shaking your head to brush off the embarrassment. Quickly, you fixed your composure and appeared presentable. As presentable as you could be under his stare that is. You just hope that he found some amusement in your haste. “D-Div—Mr. Crewel, what can I do for you?” You smiled as you speak in a professional tone. The edge of his lips curled into a familiar smirk and still you could not determine what was running through his mind at the moment.  

“I came to return the book I borrowed last week,” he said, placing down the novel on your desk. Sense and Sensibility. Jane Austen. Right, he borrowed that last week. It is not your place to judge whatever it is he desires to read. “Of course,” you nodded, “did you enjoy reading it?” You started on a small talk as you take out your logbook for the check-ins and outs of books. “Somewhat,” Crewel shrugged, “I had my eyes set on another book I would like to borrow.”

“Oh? What is it? I’ll go get it for you.” You stood up after sliding the logbook back to its drawer. Crewel did not leave from where he was standing. His eyes were simply on you. You had to hide your nervousness under his gaze. “I had my eyes on it ever since that rainy day, when you offered me shelter in the library until the rain passes,” he mused. “General fiction, I believe, was the genre.”

“If that’s the case then you better tell me the title,” you joked, taking a stool to the genre’s aisle. “Are you certain you can find it?” Crewel coolly challenged. You almost laughed but did not fight the smile on your lips. “Mr. Crewel, I spend most of my time in this library. I know every book and I still have the Dewey Decimal system memorized…” You kept your eyes distracted by scanning the spines of the books on the shelves. You are aware that he is still looking at you that is why you refused to look back at him. You are not sure what will happen if you look back at him while conversing.  

“If that is the case—” why does he suddenly sound a bit close? “—may you find ‘How to Ask your Dense Colleague Out to Dinner?’”

What a lengthy title. It sounds very basic and almost like a rule book than a novel. Well, that is General Fiction for you. Though you are quite unsure if such a book exists in the library. “Hm…” you hummed, a finger on your chin, as your eyes scanned the shelves. “I don’t think I have that here…Crowley pays me enough to support my rent and meals, but not enough to buy new books. Plus, the students…”

You heard him chuckle beside you and fought the urge to turn to him. “I believe I was not frank enough. Ah, well, I will put all subtleties aside, then…”

His warm breath tickling your skin was what made you finally turn to him. The proximity of your noses startled you that you nearly stumbled out of your stool if it were not for Divus’ hand grabbing yours to pull you to him. You gasped, shocked, as you landed close to his chest. His other hand supported your waist, and your eyes widened his silvery blues. You can feel your heart hammering against his. Your legs feel like putty when he gave you that teasing smirk. Your name—your first name—sounds surreal from his lips. Your entire world was a confusing mix of vertigo and bright lights.

“Will you go to dinner with me?”

You stared. You stammered. You are flabbergasted and flustered. You were unsure how to react to such a forward question that your brain completely shut down. But you cannot embarrass yourself—you must not. Not when…not when…not when…!

Oh, he will he stop saying your name with such sentiment?

“Is your silence a rejection or a consideration?” He rose a brow and your face flushed even more. “No! I mean yes—I mean—no, it isn’t a rejection—”

“Then you have been anticipating this?”

“Divus!”

He laughed. He laughed at your state. He laughed at your awkwardness. But most importantly his laugh sounds so pleasant. Like he was teasing you and you liked him teasing. You grew shy, averting your gaze from his and fidgeting with your fingers. “I mean…I mean…why?”

Crewel stopped laughing and looked at you. “Why what?”

“Why…me? Out of all people?” You asked as fear and denial keep you from grasping the fact that this is all real and not another scenario you made up during rainy days. Crewel’s face remained passive. Neutral. It was eating at your heart and you just wish what is going through his mind.

“Is it not obvious, puppy?” He raised a brow at you. The hand holding your wrist now tilted your chin in his direction. “It is not by fate or destiny, but a mere law that dictates the gravitational pull of similar atoms that is programmed by the need to chemically bind together.”

You suddenly felt stumped. “W—What?”

“I like you, puppy,” Crewel clarified, adoring the way your confusion turned to pure surprise, “and I would like to have dinner with you. Perhaps another, if the first went well.”

You need some time to process this. Your head felt so light you might pass out in his arms. Actually, you would not mind that in the slightest. His coat is just so soft it feels like heaven. A proper response of agreement failed to come to your mind so instead, you asked him again, “And what if the first does not end well?”

Crewel smiled at you. “Then we shall try again with the next dinner. Mind you, puppy, as a man of science, I am not afraid of failure if trying means more chances of perfecting my goal.”

“And what’s that goal?” You asked and physically stopped yourself from combusting when he leaned closer to you that your noses touch and you smell his cologne, and his bold scent.

“The goal to become yours.”

[farrawayfromthere]

Let’s Not Let A Year Pass By This Time

Pairing: Jordan Todd/Emily Prentiss

Word Count: 2k

Summary: After the family annihilator case that had been the last straw for Jordan at the BAU, they don’t see each other for a year.

A/N: for Day 4 of CM Fanfiction Week (Underrated character/pairing); tagging @simmonsmilf and @starry-eyed-spence (gif credit to @j3mily)

Jordan’s in line at a coffee shop in DC, eyeing a chocolate chip muffin in the display case with her name on it.

She fidgets with the zipper on her wallet then wonders with a small sigh if she’d be better off ordering an egg sandwich for the protein.

Today, her team’ll be flying up to a small city in New Hampshire who’s two post offices have both received bomb threats in the last couple days. She knows she’ll be interviewing postal workers all day; she’s gonna need the energy.

“Jordan? Agent Todd? Is that you?”

It’s a voice she hasn’t heard in what feels like a lifetime.

Jordan looks over her shoulder and finds herself face to face with a woman she hasn’t seen in over a year, just a couple customers behind her.

Emily’s face splits into that same huge, brilliant smile Jordan remembers.

“It is you! My god!”

She looks.... really good.

“Agent Prentiss,” Jordan says, eyes growing wide, mouth dropping open slightly.

Emily’s grown her bangs out, pushed them to the sides.

Her dark, dark brown hair falls smoothly, elegantly just past her shoulders.

She’s wearing a black pantsuit, well-tailored. A black, silky looking blouse underneath and black, thick heeled boots that make her feel even taller than Jordan remembers.

She looks, really, really good.

The guy behind her clears his throat and Jordan realizes the line has moved along.

She gestures for him and the lady behind him to go ahead, and reaches for Emily’s sleeve.

“It’s great to see you,” Emily says.

Jordan’s laugh is a disbelieving exhale.

The other woman extends a hand to shake and Jordan feels a strange, subtle swoop in her stomach when their palms press against one another’s.

Emily’s is still cool; Jordan’s, still warm.

Jordan wonders if Emily’s one of those people who always feels cold, just like she’s one of those people who always feels warm.

Suddenly, all the turtlenecks and sweaters she’d seen her wear around the BAU make a little more sense.

Emily’s hand squeezes hers back, and Jordan blinks up at her.

Emily’s eyes are bright, and even through their automatic, habitual coolness, suddenly, a little shy.

“Um, hi,” Jordan says, the words a little breathless.

“Long time no see,” Emily says.

“You’re telling me.”

Emily blinks and gives her a rueful little half-grin.

“I never called.”

“Well, I didn’t either,” Jordan says, keeping humor in her voice, “I meant to, in that first month, but—.”

“We just got so busy after you left. I didn’t realize how much time was passing, I’m so sorry,” Emily says.

They’d told each other they would stay in touch, but the days and weeks and months had just—slipped by.

By the time Jordan realized that an unacceptable amount of time had passed and she’d yet to make good on her promise to grab lunch or dinner with the older agent, the mere idea of picking up the phone and dialing her number made Jordan feel antsy with unease.

It would’ve been too weird; too awkward.

“It’s okay,” Jordan says, “Neither did I.”

Emily blows air out of her cheeks, expression full of relief.

“So we’re good?”

“Yeah, Prentiss. We’re good.”

She allows herself to take in Emily’s new hair for a moment.

She gestures lazily at it with her index finger.

“I gotta say. I like the no bangs look on you. Very elegant. Very mysterious FBI woman.”

Twin patches of pink appear high in her cheeks.

“Thanks.”

Jordan smiles.

“You still look like you could kill a man with one stomp of those boots though.”

A grin breaks through Emily’s blush.

“Oh, so they’re giving off the energy I’d hoped they would when I bought them?”

“If the energy you had in mind was ‘don’t mess with me’, then yeah, I’d say so.”

“Next,” the young man at the cashier calls.

Jordan winks at Emily, then steps forward to order her sandwich and coffee. She’s surprised when she finishes and the cashier looks over her shoulder to speak to Emily.

Quickly and efficiently, the taller woman orders herself a medium coffee and an old-fashioned donut from the display case. She pays for both of their orders without a moment’s hesitation, before Jordan can even open her mouth to protest.

“Thanks,” Emily tells the cashier, while Jordan, stomach swirling with a deep warmth that’s startling in its suddenness, places a couple bills in the tip jar.

They sit at a small table for two by the window.

When Jordan looks up from skim milk and raw sugar into her coffee, Emily’s eyes are already cautiously on her.

“So how have you been,” the taller woman asks.

“Uh, good,” Jordan says, then after a moment, ”I’m where I belong.”

“I’m glad,” Emily says, grinning as she mixed cream and a Splenda into her own coffee, “You didn’t seem to like working at the BAU very much.”

“I didn’t,” Jordan says honestly, “But some parts of the experience were better than others. Plus, JJ and I have been friends since our time at the Academy so....”

Emily pushes her hair behind her shoulders, revealing small silver disk shaped earrings that glimmer as she takes a sip of her coffee.

Jordan hesitates just a moment before saying it.

“I’ve gotta say: You look good, Emily.”

Emily’s eyes twinkle; a pleased smile spreads across her face, so genuine that Jordan realizes, for the first time, that Emily Prentiss has a perfect pair of tiny dimples.

Her eyes take in Jordan’s pristine navy blazer, her well styled ponytail. They linger briefly on her mouth, today a deep plum.

“Well, you look better.”

Jordan almost spits out her first sip of coffee; She’s acutely aware that her cheeks have just gone very hot.

Emily‘s smile is a bit too smug for Jordan’s liking. She rolls her eyes.

“I know I do.”

“Oh, really,” Emily exclaims with a grin.

Jordan looks down at her egg sandwich for a moment, appetite suddenly non-existent.

The fluttering in her stomach, the smell of Emily’s perfume is making it hard to think.

She smiles a small, tentative smile.

“How’s life?”

Emily takes a sip from her coffee.

“You know. Chasing down serial killers most days of the week, coming home, watching re-runs of The Sopranos, passing out. Rinse... and repeat.”

Jordan tilts her head.

“No special someone or someones’ to keep things interesting?”

Emily meets her eyes.

“Well I don’t know about special.... Distractions? Sure... but... uh... nobody I care very much about, and definitely nobody who cares very much about me. What about you?”

Jordan snorts.

“I don’t know about special,” she says, repeating Emily’s earlier words before half-smiling and shaking her head, “No. Nobody.”

“That’s good.”

Jordan raises a brow.

Emily winces at herself.

“I mean.... hey, that’s... it’s tough out here?”

Jordan laughs, the sound loud and genuine.

Emily hums, taking a sip of her coffee.

“How’s JJ,” Jordan asks, “The rest of the team?”

Emily sets her coffee down and smiles a soft smile.

“Good. She’s good. We all are,” Emily says, then after a pause, “She loves Will and Henry very much. I think they’re what keep her going now... but... I also think they make everything much harder than it used to be for her. She sees them in every case, and it scares her so much, even though she’ll never admit it.”

Jordan nods, understanding.

“I bet it helps though,” she muses, “To have someone to come home to. People to hold you at the end of those long-ass days you all have over at the BAU.”

Emily’s smile grows more faint.

“I wouldn’t know,” she says quietly.

“Well,” Jordan says, just as quiet, “Neither would I. But that’s what I imagine.”

“Yeah, well... it didn’t work out very well for Hotch,” Emily says.

Jordan fixes her gaze on her coffee.

She’d been overseas during Haley Hotchner’s funeral; she’d wondered how her murder had affected the team at the BAU, how it had affected Emily.

They all already had trust issues... she wondered just how much more they all feared intimacy now....

Emily seems to return to her senses, eyes darting up to meet Jordan’s and startling a little when she recognizes the compassion Jordan can’t help but feel for her.

Emily had been the best part of her time at the BAU.

And okay, maybe Jordan had developed a little, truly tiny, irrelevant crush on her in that time, and maybe.... maybe it had been a little devastating that they’d never gotten in touch again after she’d left the BAU—

Regardless, Jordan wants the woman sitting across from her to be happy.

She smiles faintly at her, then her eyes catch sight of the clock hanging over the cafe’s entrance and she starts.

“Shit,” she says, standing up, “I’m gonna be late.”

Emily looks up at her, for a second panicked, then she’s scrambling in her bag for something.

“Uh—please wait.”

She pulls out a pen and takes the cafe receipt Jordan’s crumbled up and forgotten on the table.

“We’ve gotta catch up properly, Agent Todd,” she says, scribbling her number on the back of it, “New number.”

Jordan tugs her phone from her purse.

“Just read it out to me, I’ll add you in right now,” she says.

Emily does.

Jordan smiles at it, then hesitates.

“Can I snap a quick photo of you for your contact? I‘m actively working with four women named Emily on three different continents.”

Emily’s eyes flash with a hint of something Jordan can’t decipher, then she nods.

“Sure—uh—how do I look? You’re gonna have to deal with this picture of me forever.”

“You know you look good,” Jordan says, holding up the phone, “But I’ll allow you one retake if you don’t like it.”

“Just one?”

“Just one.”

Emily straightens her back. She gives a small, close mouthed smile for the picture, dark eyes looking deeply into the camera.

“One... two... okay, got it.”

Jordan shows the picture to her and Emily grimaces.

“Ugh.”

Jordan scoffs.

“Oh, come on. You look like an English rose or whatever. It’s a good picture.”

“An English rose,” Emily repeats, laughing.

Jordan glances down at her still open camera and, lips quirking, snaps another photo.

This time, she catches Emily, eyebrows drawn up in amusement, grinning. She’s looking warmly out at Jordan over the lens of the camera rather than looking into it head on.

“Oh, I’m keeping this one.”

“What? Hey. Wait, let me see.”

Jordan shows her and Emily groans.

“No.... no, no, no.”

“Too bad it’s your one retake, huh?”

“But I didn’t even know you were taking it!”

“My phone, my rules,” Jordan says, putting her phone away and looking down at her with a grin, “I guess I’ll talk to ya later.”

Emily’s still grumbling under her breath.

Jordan lets a hand fall on her shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze before making for the doors.

“Hey Jordan,” she hears behind her.

And Jordan remembers in that moment that she likes the sound of her first name in Emily’s mouth.

She looks over her shoulder.

“Let’s not let a year pass by this time, alright,” Emily calls.

Jordan laughs, “Let’s make it two!”

“Please don’t,” Emily calls back.

“Or three!”

On the train, she tugs out her phone again, smiling a little at Emily’s contact photo.

She dials her number and Emily picks up on the second ring.

“Well this is nice. You gave me your real number,” Jordan says.

Emily snorts.

“I see you have a very high opinion of me.”

Jordan hesitates.

“Well, I’ll be honest... I don’t know you very well. All I know....”

She takes a deep breath and lets it out in a gentle whoosh.

“All I know was that you were the only thing that made my time at the BAU bearable, Emily. You stood up for me when nobody else did. You cared enough to check up on me when I was having a bad day. Even when I just acted like a jerk in return. And I’ll never forget that.“

She stops to let the honesty of her words hang in the air, then:

“I honestly was a little bummed out that we never hung out outside of work like we said we would.”

Emily seems stunned into silence by Jordan’s honesty.

Jordan doesn’t care.

She’s happy she’s said it.

Happy Emily knows that she brought good into someone’s life, at least for a little while.

“I don’t know what to say,” Emily murmurs.

“You’re one of those people who can’t handle intense sincerity, huh,” Jordan jokes.

Silence again; she must be walking.

Jordan can hear the click of her thick heels even over the phone.

“Not on a daily basis, no,” Emily says at last, but there’s a happy edge to her voice, “Confession from me?”

“Go for it.”

“It bummed me out a little too, that we never got together like we’d planned. You were excellent company, Jordan Todd. And I... I guess I didn’t realize until now how much I’ve really missed you.”

Jordan finds herself smiling.

“Sap.”

Emily laughs and Jordan chuckles in response.

For a second there’s silence on the line, then:

“Let’s get lunch this week,” Emily says, “Someplace good.”

Jordan bites the inside of her lower lip, trying to fight her own smile, knowing it’s a fight she’s going to be having with herself all day.

She knows today will be the day she’ll be called out for asking about bomb threat details with a glimmer of a smile on her face.

She doesn’t care.

“How do you feel about sushi?”

“Name the place and I’m there.”

[captainkurosolaire]

~ Mass Update ~

Mainly going into future plans and intents alongside ideas below cut.

Ton's of things I've in store this will prove difficult to vent it all out. But here we go... First off rehashing and appropriately learning to tag and organize things better on my blog. Each category will have their own corresponding content, I seek to bring or share. [Tales of Goldbrand] -- I intend this to carry a Compendium of all my writes soon that'll have everything neatly in-order including a glossary, so it'll have highlights of stories that even matter or the best stuff. I've written here for a very, long time, there's been many shifts. I want to make it more accessible. While coloring what matters for people who want to learn Captain or his Crew with less chapters. While also giving choice to find it all easily. This is essentially a step-above master-lists. I'll be doing that after the Saga I have going on, right now is done. [Captain] -- Will provide you strictly with Captain screenshots, gifs, photo-sets. This is still his blog despite the Crew thing's will sort of make this a scuffed Multi-Muse blog. I've few more things to edit and tag fix to get all his stuff though. [The Wild Crew] -- Afterwards this story is done Immortal Age Saga, It's something that I mainly wrote as a passion project within three days to get my warm-up process fixed. It's to allow me to get a feel for all his Crewmates and casts, in combat, in-general, to feel their presences. While also giving a bit of their backstories. At any point, I can go back and polish or tweak things in. They're NPC's but... not entirely. All will have their own 'Dreams' and their own 'Disapproval's' they have their own missions even. These things will factor eventually, they might set seeds, to betray or disagree with something, but that's all angst and more stories to be created, but overall, they'll probably always be Crew, eventually. -- I plan on making character-profile sheets of them and putting them in this Tab, it'll have their screenshots, their likes/dislikes. Some RP partners or people can also be shipped with them, but they'll all be monogamous and originally start off probably Pan. This allows them to figure out what they like on their own stories. I've always been someone who likes organic-flow. Although this one story contain all 16 characters or more, the rest will probably be shortened to a Squad of 4 and dispersed when on adventuring missions. Until I do a War Arc, that's my main goal to build too. [Roster] -- Will contain this Crew in just screen-sets dedicated to them, I'll probably randomly produce those. I've PC players among this Crew too. I may not be done either adding more, but this Crew is mainly built around Quality. Most pirate crew's mainly, have hundreds, thousands. Even Fleets. This Crew has personalities, monsters, people who are living life's that exist with piracy. He's an particular leader that had PC players the same way, he's had split-personality serial killers aboard, tribal chieftains, succubus, all sorts of various people once on a Crew. It's often an outcast style, pirates default are chaotic in nature, so this really isn't any different, it's a Fantasy version of it. There's humanization characters aboard too though, so this cast is really decked, everything and person is vital, they matter because they remind or covet something that others can draw upon. If ever played (Three Houses or Mass Effect / Dragon Age Origins) A lot of things like that are relatable too this structure and format. Which, Is something I want to be able to give when RPing. I want a genuine feel of this new world someone else's muse will be the main-character too. Depending on what's interacting everything they'll be scale appropriately to follow the genre they're in and environment even. [Aesthetics] -- Already explainable what you'll find here. [Asks] -- Same thing. [Prompts] -- Trivial things I was tagged too, I plan on compiling later. [Writing] -- Another alternatively to randomly go-down and it works right now. [Logs] -- Will have more individualistic master-lists and posts there, my poems from Sheik Sphere the Bard, etc.

Things of that nature, I'll probably add still. It's where a lot of my creative writing is summed. [Gems of Hydaelyn] -- My main #tag for other characters and artists, creationist. Lot of amazing people easily to find their zones or follow them optionally if you like. Ton's I intend to support and bolster, be a lot less unspoken. I'm never the type who's been strictly inclusive. But I'll do that when I've time to even explore the dash, I'm always still planning ahead with things and projects. [CKS] My original character-sheet it's outdated on something's but not too terrible. I'll give him polishing someday, I swear? [21+F-List] -- Just purely degenerate stuff of Captain. I'm a pirate blog. I will represent that with openness and furthermore. I'm never projecting you some false-image. I started off a smut-writer by stripping that, I no-longer represent the same aura and identity. But those are strictly his stuff and kinks, I'm effective in executing them but they're not all relatable to me OOC. This blog will always be 18+ containing crude or dark material sometimes, romantic things, this Captain is blunt, will literally put his cock on the table in conversations. Swearing and being censored would be too uncommon and displace most of him, but there's more about him then all this. [Other] -- I pay homage to a lot of characters, I originally am a Concept Designer. Which mean's I make characters and ideas like my addiction. Bad characters / villains or other little things I like to share in designs, I'll put there. Some villains might get little photo-sets, even if they died. Just cause I like their design, or maybe I'll give them an AU, where they won. When I've wrapped up things. [Collabs + Ships] -- Is a new project idea. This isn't going to be something limited too romantic only ships. It'll contain, platonic, romantic, friendships, rivals, frenemies, family, PC Crew, all ships. I am desperately working on improving my gif, screenshot, posing game so I can supply 'Screen Stories' this is not only a way to RP that's accessible with even people who are upon time-crunches from work, It gives visual-representation. To impactful stories shared with others and establish bonds. That are all-valid and impactful matter. Lot of people take a lot of their characters attributes into them and are them dialed up, I work with that and bit more, differently. I'm disconnected from my characters and they'll get hurt and injured and killed by me, that's my duty as their Author to give them conflicts and struggles. I'm their major antagonist, but that doesn't mean at-all, it's always SET that way. The characters I like to make have their own life, they live in this setting and are abide by it, they're often nothing, nobodies, and by the interacting with others, they slowly gradually building, more... Through emotional impacts, they alter, these are REAL people by all their beliefs. Each person they come in-contact with are legitimate and treated like that too. They've always impacted or given them insights to grow, or represent more. Otherwise it'd be criminally disrespectful if I allowed any emotional I felt OOC be the grudge to something IC. Captain in-particular is set on defying me. I cannot have that. ...But I can't stop him. He's met and encountered so many people and lived so many scenarios based on the actions of others, he's giving a chance right now to actually do things a lot further than impossible. The more people he meets and encounters, experiences, the more I lose. These stories are emotionally interactive where everything is a factor and adds to the dice, where the other people are the one who get to roll the dice for him, not me. That's something I want to color in. People range in emotions, they have their down's, ups, their own wholesome-grounding people, spending time with your favorite people, there's nothing more cherishing than that, being in your own comfort-zone or 'safe-space' these are all treasures that we live under, today. Contrary if what people assume of me, I'm not another 'blogger' that's came

before, who's wanting to force a harem, then constantly is bewildered when that falls to pieces cause of selfishness or a lack of communication, or the skeletons they have in their closets and beliefs they hid behind and swindled fooled everyone. I'm not looking to be popular or anything really, I just create stories and want to share in those, and I want to also boost others included, upward with me, especially those who make me. There's no ego in anything I do, this is purely love. I've never cared about being replicated or duplicated, I've had stalkers, I've gone through more then anyone would imagine, I've been used OOC and abused, just for my writing and cold-harshly told, i'd never amount to anything other then that or vice-versa. --------------------------------------------------------------------- Passion. That's all I got and am anymore. --------------------------------------------------------------------- Passion is the hardest thing to keep. It's something that can be stolen, quite effortlessly. Few words of discouragement, a bad negative representation, a lack of confidence, or small amount of time, there's many thing's that can put that flame out. Once you lose it. The difficulty to reattain is hundred-times harder than climbing any mountain for real. I've watched the greatest creators crumble from under the pressure, from beaten down by others. I watched many of them do it to themselves because they put a grand vision of needing validation of another and once lost, felt uncompelling to press onward. But passion also can be given BACK and drawn. It can be shown and encourage others, with a soft-triggering, that pushes them. That motivates, that constantly sticks to it. There are many that fuel me. If I ever quit, I let them down, I spit in the faces of people who're better than me in every-way. Or people who've came and given me their precious Time. That have given their character's or dedication to the abundant stories and community-driven things I've done. There's ONLY things you can do, create, give and provide. It cannot ever come to life without YOU. This is a fact. ...I swear, If you let your creativity soar, you'll be amazed by the heights you get. Constantly polish and learn and hone the best you, challenge yourself day after painstaking day, to draw better improvement on something, no matter how trivial or unfamiliar you are. You'll find a confidence only you can give yourself. ---------------------------------------------------------------------- Future Plans --------------------------------------------------------------------- For me, I've got so much more stories to give and also explore, I might be taking up soon some other artists and more skilled people from community and hire them for some of my future writes, to up my game or cause something thing's can't be done in-game cause no background carries it. I also got a lot of-set up things and more angst stuff I want to practice, plus I'm adamantly on that grind to produce screen-sets with the intent's to some sort of improving daily. Additionally more people I'll be reaching out too soon for these collab's ideas and things. I look forward to shaking your hands, giving some hugs, show you my respect and admiration, then creating some enchanting stories and giving plots light. Feel free to reach out to me, I get scattered-brain but I'm working on getting better about it. Eventually will get to you though, my goals, if uninterested just say so when I poke, no bites, unless you kinky. Anyways, cheers hearties.