#PLEASE imagine the heart is brown and the diamond is red

[rabbittush]

My fav clown I drew for a thing years ago, posting now 'cause I'm actually still super proud of this.

(click for better quality :])

[wisteria-lotus]

Repeated Mistakes

Content warning: Small amount of gore, includes bloodshed, angst with no comfort (please notify if anything is missing)

Written by: Lotus☪︎ ִ ֶ֢࣪⋆

Edited by: Wisteria

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

-660 BCE-

The palace was silent except for the constant scurries of a few workers hoping to finish their job as quickly as possible. It was supposed to be a bright, sunny evening but nothing could be happy when Zayne was having one of the worst  days. The throne room felt different, no one chattering or gossiping, it was empty and vast, nothing but cold air filling it. It was always such a loud and vibrant room, filled with people drinking and playing music but this time, only a single person was in the room. Zayne was perched atop his throne and his knuckles turned white as he gripped the arms of the chair. He was breathing heavily and his eyes that were once a beautiful mix of green and brown were darkened with a dark tint over it. His head was constantly throbbing with indescribable pain and his heart throbbed with hurt that piled up on each other for months. He couldn’t stop thinking about her, it hurt so much to even imagine.

The throne room was now filled with sharp shards of ice from his uncontrollable evol. His emotions were getting in the way once again. He had to keep his evol in check… or else, who knows what could happen? He could hear the gods taunting him and dug his nails into his palm, a crimson red dropping onto one of the shards of ice. The throne room filled with a cold, icy mist.

“I can't do this anymore… haven’t I given enough? What more do you want from me?!” 

Zayne shook in rage and frustration while a single tear dropped down his face. He rubbed his eyes and noticed what he had done to the room. He stood up from his throne and said to himself, “I should start acting like an actual duke.. What am I doing with myself?” He grit his teeth and walked outside the throne room, entering a long hallway. Everything was so blurry and he could barely walk properly. “My evol, it's getting too uncontrollable for me.” His heart beat increased with each and every step as he made it to his office. Zayne collapsed onto his chair and closed his eyes for a short minute, trying to control himself so he could hide those terrible, good for nothing emotions behind a stern face. He leaned his head on an arm resting on the table and looked over at the stack of papers next to him. He sighed. There were so many things to do but so little time… no amount of time in the world could satisfy him, and he had lived for long enough.Zayne put on his glasses, which were studded with a single diamond, to start his work when he heard a soft knock on the door. He grumbled in frustration and went over to open the door. He had clearly given signs to everybody that he did NOT want to be disturbed. He hesitated but ended up creaking the door open.

“Hello?” 

Y/N stood in front of Zayne, with her alluring eyes fixed on him. He was mesmerized by her beauty but reminded himself to snap out of it. He put his cold demeanor and icy glare back on. “Y/N… what are you doing here? Haven’t you been told to not come find me?” 

“I didn’t mean to bother you lord Zayne… I just wanted to check on you.” Her voice was gentle. “I heard from several of the workers that you were having a panic attack. Are you ok?” She had sincerity in those warm words as she looked at him, worried. Y/n had been his advisor for some time and she was someone who Zayne could trust but he had to stop himself from getting close to her, loving her, even embracing her warmth and ruining this life like every other he had lived. 

“No.” His words were laced with bitterness. “And even if I do, you won’t be able to do anything about it. In fact, you’ll probably make it worse…” He muttered. “Just please leave.” 

“Stop trying to chase me out all the time!! You can rely on me,haven’t you realized that after all the things I went through with you?” Her eyes pleaded for him to let her in as she widened the door a bit more. There was a split second where the coldness in his eyes melted away but it was replaced by his usual hardened gaze. “You’re nothing to me and you’ll never be.” He glanced away. Y/n balled up her fists and shoved him aside, entering the room. Zayne tensed and frowned at her. “What are you doing?! ” Y/n gave him a nasty look. “I'm not walking away until you tell me what's going on.” Zayne scoffs at this and remarks, “You’d never understand. The things I did for you.. It never worked. So why would it work in this lifetime?” 

Y/n blinked. “What..? what are you even talking about?” “Forget it” Zayne hissed. 

Y/n gnawed at her lips nervously. Zayne’s gaze settled on her glossy lips, and it was so tempting for him. 

He thought he had a good grasp on himself, until… he didn't. Zayne snatched her wrists and pushed her up to a wall. He caressed her neck and her slender shoulders, leaning in to feel her, to be able to smell her. I’m not making a mistake. This isn’t love, I’m just putting her in her place. 

“W-what the hell Zayne? Let me go!” Y/n panted. 

“Shut up..” He pressed her harder against the wall and stared all over her body, examining every curve. He put a hand on her hips and another on the back of her head, leaning in for a kiss. As soon as their lips touched, Zayne went all in. He was thirsty for her taste and his hunger was unbearable by this point. He pressed harder, sliding his tongue in and tasting her sweet saliva. After a few minutes, he finally broke the kiss. Y/n was all red and was panting, trying to catch her breath. Zayne pretends nothing happened and wiped his mouth with his sleeves. “You can leave.” He was holding back all of his instincts even though he wanted more,Way more. 

Y/n looked hurt and her eyes sparkled with tears. “You’re so confusing. Do you love me or not? Why do you make me feel like this when after, you just turn your back to me? What's wrong with you!” Zayne let out a sigh. “Im.. not.. I’m just trying to-You know what? Please leave Y/n I can't do this today.” Y/n had eyes full of hurt and confusion. Her voice raised, “Why? Why do you do this? Don’t you see that I love you? Why do you have to play with my feelings everyday of my life.” 

Zayne’s eyes flashed with anger. “You don't understand and you never will! LEAVE! You’re just a fucking whore that’ll do what I say. I don't have any feelings for you and I never will.” Y/n bit back tears and turned her back on him. “If that's what you truly believe, then I’ll leave. I just wanted to be some help to you but I guess even that annoys you.” 

Zayne lunges for her and digs his fingers into her shoulders. He dropped his head onto her chest. “D-dont leave… I can't go through that again. Please. I’m.. sorry” Y/n looks at him in disbelief. “Your sorry means nothing.” 

“I didn't mean anything I said Y/n!! It was out of pure anger that I couldn't control. You know how I have anger issues. I wasn’t like this. I was a gentle and loving person but I lost hope and I can't do this anymore. Please give me a second chance Y/n.” Zayne’s eyes teared up and looked desperate. Y/n didn’t bother to even look at him, not wanting to make eye contact with him. Zayne panicked and his hands started to tremble. He was starting to lose control of his evol. Again. “I’m sorry but please.. LEAVE!!!” Zayne pushed her away with much force but it was too late. Shards of ice scattered through the room and one pierced through her arm, splattering blood on the floor. 

Zayne’s eyes widened with fear as he scrambled towards her. “No.. this wasn’t supposed to happen.” The ice disappeared and the room turned back to normal. Y/n’s breath was uneasy and there was still blood dripping down from her arm as she winced in pain.

One of Zayne’s men came in from the commotion and froze in shock. “What are you standing there for?! Get help!” Zayne yelled at him. Zayne was supporting y/n with his arms, basically hugging her until she lightly pushed him away with her other arm. “Don't touch me, you monster.” 

Help arrived and they helped y/n out of the room. She glanced back at Zayne and he noticed how hurt her eyes looked, but he knew it wasn’t because of her arm. All Zayne could do was stare and stare as y/n got smaller as she limped away from his sight. He stood in place without moving a single muscle for a good 30 minutes. “What have I done?” “That wasn’t supposed to happen. I was supposed to help her survive this life and make her happy.”  He leaned on the table for support and covered his eyes. “Y/n..” he sobbed. “I promise.. In my next life I won’t stand in your way. I’ll help you be happy even though it means letting you go.” Zayne glided a hand across his hair, hating himself for being so selfish, after so many lives he still had made the same mistake. As time flew past, and with every minute, the room grew colder, until it was nothing but a barren wasteland of ice.

(2nd post!!)

(requests are open!!)

☪︎ ִ ֶ֢࣪⋆

[beautification-tales]

As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting a warm glow over the city, Jessica sat at her desk, her heart racing with a mixture of excitement and nervousness. She glanced at her reflection in the window, adjusting her glasses for the umpteenth time that day. Her mousy brown hair was pulled back into a messy bun, and her oversized sweater did little to hide her less-than-perfect figure. She was a far cry from the confident, sexy woman her boss, David, was always with - his gorgeous girlfriend, Amanda. It was a constant source of envy for Jessica, and tonight was no different. She couldn't help but feel like a pathetic, unlovable secretary as she watched them laughing together in the parking lot.

But then she spotted it. A small, velvet box sitting innocuously on her desk. Her heart skipped a beat as she recognized it as David's. He must have left it here by mistake. Curiosity getting the better of her, she carefully lifted the lid to reveal a stunning diamond ring. Tears welled up in her eyes as she imagined what it must feel like to be wanted by someone like David. With shaking hands, she slipped the ring onto her finger, the cool metal pressing against her skin.

As she closed her fingers around the ring, she felt a surge of energy course through her veins. Her breath hitched in her throat as she looked down at her hands and gasped. Her brown hair had grown long and wavy, and it now shone with an intense red hue that seemed to glow from within. She cried out in pleasure as she felt her new hair, and the rest of her body begin to change.

Her breasts enlarge as she feels herself grow taller. Her once-petite frame stretches and lengthens, her hips widening and curving into a voluptuous figure. Her face takes on a more angular, alluring shape, and her lips plump and part into a confident smile. The sweater she was wearing strains against her new curves, revealing the outline of her perky breasts and flat stomach.

As she stands up, Jessica feels her muscles tense and ripple beneath her skin. Her ass plumps and becomes round and tight, accentuated by the way her hips sway with each step she takes. She looks down at her hands and sees they're covered in a glittering red energy field, like she's wearing a pair of glowing purple gloves. The power coursing through her body is exhilarating, and she feels like she could take on the world.

She walks over to the mirror, hardly able to believe her eyes. The nerdy secretary who had once been her reflection is gone, replaced by a stunning superheroine. Her purple form-fitting outfit hugs her curves, revealing her cleavage and accentuating her new hourglass figure. The red energy field surrounding her hands flickers and crackles as she flexes her fingers, the power coursing through her veins making her feel invincible.

With a plan forming in her mind, she strides purposefully towards David's office. As she enters, he looks up in surprise, his eyes widening as they take in her new appearance. "Jessica? Wh-what happened to you?" he stammers, unable to take his eyes off her.

She walks over to him, her hips swaying seductively. With a mischievous grin, she kneels down in front of him and slowly undoes his pants, revealing his erect cock. "I think it's time we had a little fun, don't you, David?" she purrs, wrapping her lips around the head of his dick and taking him deep into her mouth. His moans fill the room as she expertly sucks and strokes him, her tongue dancing over his sensitive flesh.

She feels his hands grip her hair, guiding her as she takes him deeper and deeper. His hips buck forward, and she knows he's close. As he nears the brink, she pulls back, her lips trailing over the length of his cock. "Tell me how irresistible I am, David," she whispers, her breath hot against his skin. "Tell me how much you want me."

His words are barely audible, but they're there: "You're so irresistible... I can't resist you..." She smiles around his cock, pleased with his response. His words fuel her desire to please him even more. She takes him back into her mouth, her tongue swirling around the head of his cock as she sucks and strokes in perfect rhythm.

Her body aches to be joined with his, and she decides it's time to ride him before he ejaculates. Standing up, she guides his cock to her wet folds and impales herself on him, crying out in pleasure as he fills her. She bounces up and down on his lap, her hips swaying in an intoxicating rhythm. Her breasts bounce with each thrust, their weight adding to the sensation of being completely and utterly consumed by him.

As she rides him harder, David's hands grip her hips, guiding her movements. His eyes are filled with lust and adoration, and Jessica can feel the power she has over him. She leans forward, their chests pressed together, her lips just a breath away from his. She teases him, nipping at his bottom lip before kissing him deeply. His moans mingle with hers as they reach their climax together.

Their bodies tremble with release, and Jessica feels a surge of satisfaction as she feels his cum filling her up. She collapses forward onto him, her breath coming in ragged gasps as she tries to catch her breath. David wraps his arms around her, holding her close as they both try to regain their composure.

For a moment, they just lie there, lost in the haze of their passion. Jessica can feel the warmth of David's skin against hers, and the softness of his chest hair against her breasts. She nestles her head into the crook of his neck, inhaling his unique scent. It's a heady mixture of sweat and aftershave, and it makes her feel even closer to him.

As their breathing begins to steady, she senses a shift in the air. David's hands move from her hips to her waist, and he slowly pulls her off of him. She looks up at him, their eyes locked in a heated gaze. She can see the desire still burning in his eyes, but there's something else there too. Something that makes her heart race with anticipation.

He guides her to her feet, and she steps back, her weight shifting to one hip as she watches him. He reaches out, tracing a finger down her cheek before cupping her face in his hands. His touch sends a jolt of desire through her, and she feels her core tighten in response. "Jessica," he whispers, his voice thick with emotion. "I don't know what happened... I don't know how you did it... but that was amazing.”

She smiles up at him, feeling the power of her feminine wiles surging through her. "I think you underestimate me, David," she says, running a finger along his chest, feeling the hairs stand on end beneath her touch. "I think you should start paying more attention to what I'm capable of."

[violettduchess]

Hi! I'm so happy to see you are participating! May I please request Leon with prompt #5? Thank you! <3

A/N: This combines two of the requests for Tis the Season for Love CCC hosted by @voltage-vixen and @xxsycamore. This Leon prompt was also requested by @joiedecombat. Clavis request was anon!

Leon- scarf sharing, Clavis- ice skating

One of the last bits of fluff before the angst!

Word Count: 1456

Leon- Scarf Sharing

The door to the bedroom opens in what can only be called triumph as Leon strides in on his long legs, holding a present wrapped in forest green paper and tied with a perfect golden bow. The wide grin on his face tells you exactly what this must be. 

Setting aside your book, you slide to the edge of the bed where he joins you, sitting himself down with an air of child-like excitement. “Leon! You found it!” During the smaller, more private exchange of presents at Christmas, Leon had been stricken by the fact that one present for you had seemingly disappeared into thin air. He had showered you with many other wonderful things, but this had bothered him enough to have the whole palace searched for days until, now, finally, it seems the mystery present returned from wherever it had journeyed to.

“Yves found it. What it was doing in the pantry, I have no idea.” You had an idea and it is golden-eyed and lavender-haired with a no-good grin that screams trouble. Clavis hiding presents in odd places would make perfect sense. Any excuse to cause some fanciful trouble.

“Well”, you say as you lean over, kissing his cheek, “I can’t wait to see it!” He hands it over, grinning boyishly. “Just rip it,” he mutters as you carefully untie the bow. “No,” you chide him gently, “we can use the paper and bow again.” He sighs, muttering something about how he is a prince and you are his love and he can get you paper and ribbons any time. You ignore him because it is the principle of the matter. Some people are paper-rippers and others are correct.

The perfectly intact paper and golden ribbon are set carefully aside, leaving you with a chocolate brown box which you open with eager hands and then gasp in delight. Nestled inside is a scarf of the deepest cranberry red, shot through with threads of bright gold. “Oh Leon….” Joy brings a hush to your voice as you touch the material gently. It feels the way you imagine a cloud would, soft and fluffy and immediately wonderful.

“I found it at a stand at the Christmas Market the day I went with Jin and Yves. This sweet little old woman was selling them. I saw it in its box and bought it right then and there.” That is the Leon you love, all heart and spontaneity. You reach inside to take the scarf out. 

You pull….and pull….and pull….and pull….what? Both his and your eyes widen as you realize just how long the scarf is. When you finally have it all in your lap, it spills over both sides, a soft cloud of red and gold. A really, really big, soft cloud. Leon looks crestfallen as he realizes that you can probably wrap the whole thing around your entire body, not just your neck.

“No, it's ok, love. Don’t be sad. I have an idea.” You stand, offering him your hand. “Come with me.”

It’s a cold, clear winter night. The stars shine like extravagant diamonds against the black velvet sky. The sliver of moon is white and pale as bone, allowing the stars their moment to glow. You and Leon are snuggled together on the palatial terrace under a heavy blanket, your necks and shoulders warmed by your enormous, incredibly warm, red and gold scarf. A stone fire pit bathes you both in heat and gentle orange light. “See? Perfect for star-gazing together.” He turns to look at you, eyes bright with admiration for your optimism. “Perfect,” he murmurs in that deep voice you love so much. “Just perfect.”

Clavis-ice skating

You’re reading a book about the far-off Tourmaline kingdom, drinking in the beautiful illustrations of their traditions and customs. You’re particularly engrossed in a description of winter activities when the sofa suddenly dips due to someone throwing himself despondently onto it. “You don’t even notice me anymore. How could you miss a sight such as this entering a room?”

With a sigh you reach out to ruffle his soft, twilight hair, your touch gentle but playful. He pretends to fix it but in truth, any touch of yours is one he treasures. He reaches up, capturing your hand and then holds it captive against his heart. “What has you so entranced, my dear?” You show him the book and the illustrations of people gliding across a frozen lake with blades on their boots. “This looks like such fun!”

He tilts his head, his thumb absently running over the back of the hand he is still holding tightly against his chest. “Would you like to try it?” His tone is forcibly casual, as if it's no big deal but he also gets the reaction he was fervently hoping for. The book almost falls to the floor as you shift to face him, eyes suddenly bright with excitement. “You’ve done this before?” He shrugs one shoulder, but his lips are curved into a wide grin. “Who hasn’t?” The way your smile radiates joy sends his heart into a tailspin. Ducking his head, he presses a kiss to the back of your hand to hide the effect you’re having on him. “Let me make some arrangements….”

Those fateful words ring in your ears several days later as Clavis kneels in the snow, helping secure the ice blades to your sturdiest boots. He checks the straps several times before rising, offering you his arm as he helps you from the bench down the gentle slope to the edge of the frozen lake. There is no one else around as Clavis assured the other princes you would not want to be seen, slipping and falling in front of them and he would do anything to preserve your dignity. 

“Now just ease your way forward. I’ll attach mine and join you in a moment.” One skate touches the ice and immediately you slide forward, nearly pinwheeling away from him. His strong grip holds you in place, his laughter soft. “Hold on a moment dearie. Don’t go running away from me yet.” Once you have your balance, he lets go and moves toward the bench to attach his own blades. You breathe in the crisp air. Your leg muscles are tense and you will yourself to relax. You have always been good at walking on logs and complicated dance steps, both things that require a sense of body and balance. Tentatively you push forward. You are shaky and you are damned slow but you are moving forward. Your body adapts to the movement and after only a few moments of trembling legs and flapping arms, you manage to glide very, very slowly around half of the small body of frozen water.

Clavis applauds you from the lake's edge, his smile brighter than the winter sunlight. “Look at you go!” Pride fills you as you continue your sluggish, but steady progress. “Come on!” You aren’t brave enough to lift an arm to wave yet but you hope your tone conveys your excitement at trying this together.

Your love nods once and confidently steps out onto the frozen lake…..and promptly falls on his princely rear with a yelp. “Clavis!!” You want to turn to help him but if you do it too quickly you’ll end up flat on the ice with him. “Wait, I’m coming.” You move with the speed of an arthritic snail toward where he is trying to rise again with a body that suddenly appears to be made of gelatin as he flops back down onto the ice. “I’m almost there!” You’re still mostly across the lake. Oh dear.

What feels like hours later, you are holding him in your arms, both of you sprawled in the snow at the edge of the lake. His face is buried in your shoulder, red from exertion and embarrassment. “I asked if you had done this before and you said who hasn’t!” You can't help the curling warmth of amusement lacing your chastisement. “I never specified if I was one of the ones who had.” His voice is muffled by your coat and scarf and despite the wet and the cold, you find yourself laughing, a sound that almost soothes the throbbing pain in certain parts of his body that became very well acquainted with hard ice.

You reach out with your gloved hand, pushing back his hair. “How about we take these awful things off and go back to the palace for a hot bath?” He tilts his head up slightly so you can see one golden eye and the wicked flame of suggestion in it. “Together?” You sigh, stroking his hair. “Sure. Together.”

He lifts his head entirely now, injuries seemingly forgotten. “Well what are we waiting for?!” He pushes himself up, wincing and you can only shake your head at the sudden burst of motivation. Ah, Clavis.

Tagging: @aquagirl1978 @alixennial @alexxavicry @queengiuliettafirstlady @rhodolitesrose @ikemen-prince-writers-posts @bellerose-arcana @thewitchofbooks @redheadkittys @dear-mrs-otome @firestar-otomeobsessed @curious-skybunny @kpop-and-otome @writingwhimsey @mxrmaid-poet @silver-dahlia @wendolrea @otomefoxystar @neoqueen-sailorvirgo @myonlyjknight @queen-dahlia @aceuuuuu @scorchieart

[killingitreservoirdogsstyle]

Hey, it’s me, just stopping by with my Cute Freddy thoughts! I can seriously picture him and his SO setting up 4th of July decorations around their shared apartment and getting a bunch of snacks and alcohol and inviting the rest of the dogs over!

Bonus: Mr. White would definitely help with the decorating and getting everything together! And they would play cards against humanity!!!

🌸

Hi friendo! So sorry for my late reply! How have you been doing? These are seriously so cool, I love this idea! I haven't ever attended a 4th of July celebration if you can believe that, probably because I'm Canadian and our version of it is on the 1st. Oh my goodness, I can just picture the scene so well though! I have to write headcanons for this here, which I'll do, albeit short. But yes, this is a fantastic idea! I hope that's okay with you if I write your thoughts up as headcanons, please let me know if it isn't and I'll correct it!

Full credit goes to this wonderful anon with extras added on by yours truly!

FANDOM: Reservoir Dogs

GENRE: Romantic relationship, platonic friendship, and fluff headcanons!

SYNOPSIS: Freddy Newandyke and his gender neutral partner throw a great party with the ResDogs to celebrate the 4th of July!

TRIGGER WARNINGS: Swearing and drinking, but this is totally fluffy and cute!

Freddy is definitely excited to celebrate the 4th of July with you--as mundane as he thinks it is, he views it as an opportunity to have some quality time with you and the other Dogs. Thanks to multiple jobs, shifts at the station, and being too exhausted in the end, Orange hadn't been able to get that one on one time every couple needs, which he regretted. So even if it wasn't just the two of you, he was thrilled at the prospect of being able to have some time not weighed down by the ugliness of life.

He's getting ready for the big day a week beforehand, no question about that at all. You just come home from the grocery store one weekend to find him and White have busted out the decorations over a beer and K-Billy's Super Sounds of the Seventies: think streamers, colour-coordinated blues and reds, a massive American flag, the whole works, he goes big or goes home, literally. The excitement on the undercover cop's face was like a lightbulb, he was practically beaming. So you helped them out, laughing and catching up the whole time.

You invited all the Dogs over for a barbecue in the backyard of your apartment, the landlord on vacation and other tenants too busy to mind you guys out on the lawn cooking up ribs and getting drunk, so it worked out perfectly fine.

OKAY, ALL THE DOGS COME OVER IN OPEN HAWAIIAN SHIRTS AND SHORTS, YOU CAN'T TELL ME OTHERWISE. THEY LOOK LIKE THEY'RE ON VACATION TO TAHITI OR SOMEWHERE LIKE THAT, BUT IT'S SO FUNNY. ( Imagine that though, all of them in printed summery shirts like that, somebody needs to draw this as soon as possible, XD )

Blonde comes carrying three big cases of Budweisers and vodkas, decked out in his cowboy boots and hat with a piece of grass between his teeth. Brown, bless his heart, brings his camcorder and projector so you guys can watch movies if you want. In gold chains and diamond rings, Eddie supplies the ingredients for margaritas and the ribs though he looks a little too fabulous for a barbecue. White takes along his guitar, ready to play in case of impromptu singing. And Pink, being the sarcastic God-awful shit he is, is more than happy to crack out Cards Against Humanity.

So after eating to your heart's content, getting a little too drunk and doing inebriated renditions of the American national anthem, you all sing along to some Stealer's Wheel and Bedlam before playing Cards Against Humanity and laughing your asses off like horrible people, XD.

WAIT I THOUGHT OF ANOTHER ONE! What if Orange inflated a kiddie pool for the party and pulled out water guns? CAN YOU IMAGINE THAT?! WATER-GUN WARS AND SPLASHING AROUND IN THIS WAY TOO SMALL POOL DRUNKENLY?! Holy shit, I'm freaking crying at this idea, ha ha. Eddie just steals the pool, and is like, " FUCK OFF, I'M THE KING OF THE CASTLE, BITCH!" in a slurred voice.

Anyways, the Dogs end up sleeping on your guys' floors and couch, poor Brown getting the worst lot and having to curl up in the bathtub. The next morning, they all make their way home, and you and Freddy spend a nice day together cuddling, playing video games, watching TV, and just being together.

UGH, SORRY FOR HOW BAD THESE WERE! I am drowning in my schoolwork, seriously, I have so much to catch up on but I'd much rather be writing here than doing assignments, ha ha. It looks like I might get a hiatus from my academics in August, so hopefully I can go back to writing regularly for you guys! I do promise that I have your requests drafted or ready, it's just finding time to get them out that is the issue. But anyways, have a great week everyone, and here's to what is hopefully a great summer!

[donutloverxo]

NSFW alphabet | Chris Evans

Please note that my stories are not to be stolen or reposted on any other site. Reblogs are welcome. This blog and this story is 18+. Do not read, follow or interact if you are not 18+.

Note - This is written just for fun. I don't know Chris or what he likes lol. I also don't own the alphabet format.

Dividers by @whimsicalrogers

Warnings - rpf, smut, daddy kink, d/s relationship, dom Chris, anal stuff, semi public sex, spanking, sex toys, praise kink.

Word count - 2.5k

A=Aftercare (What they’re like after sex)

Chris is clingy as fuck after sex. He’ll hold you close to his heart (you being the lil spoon of course) and not let go the entire night. With soft kisses on your face, hair and on any bruises he might have left on you. With some pillow talk about how his love for you can overwhelm him sometimes, that he can’t imagine not having you not that he gets to have a taste of you almost every night. Sometimes he likes to listen to you talk about your day, or share a deep secret you hadn’t told anyone else.

His clinginess is something you adore. Something which you would usually be fine with, how he just could not keep his hands off of you, but when you’re somewhere tropical and hot it becomes a bit of a problem.

You were visiting him while he was filming for red Sea diving resort, after seeing him in the beard and the longer hair you couldn’t help yourself and you just jumped on him. After some hot and sweaty sex, you had moved away from him a little, with your back to him you wiped the sheen off of your forehead with the back of your hand, trying to fan yourself with your own hand, ‘Where do you think you’re going?’ he had growled. Not wanting even an inch of distance between the two of you. You tried to protest because you needed to cool off but eventually gave in.

B=Body Part (Their favorite body part)

Everyone knows the answer to this. He likes your ass the most. It doesn’t matter if it’s a flat ass or a thick one he’ll love it the same because it’s a part of you. He likes to smack it, he likes looking at it, he may even like to fuck it. Some stretch marks would just be the cherry on top.

His next favorite would have to be your hips. He loves to see their silhouette through your yoga pants or jeans, or even a dress. After a night of some rough fucking they usually bear his handprints which he loves obviously because it’s almost like he branded you as his own.

C=Cum (Anything to do with cum basically... I’m a disgusting person)

It’s always a battle with the two of you when it comes to cumming. Because Chris likes to see your body covered in his seed, particularly your face, ass and breasts, and you like to have him do it inside you, be it your pussy or your mouth.

Which he doesn’t mind obviously, he likes the idea of his spend being in your tummy, but he also likes taking pictures of your ass covered with his spunk. You just look so pretty when he comes on your face🥺

D=Dirty Secret (Pretty self explanatory)

Chris has fucked you in more bathrooms than you can remember. It’s become a thing or almost a ritual now. Whenever he takes you to an event or a party, or just a casual dinner at his family or friends house, you’ll end up on your knees in the bathroom with his dick in your mouth, or he’ll worship you and eat you out till you literally can’t even walk straight.

It started when you accompanied him to an important event, he was extremely anxious. And you felt helpless because you didn’t know how to make him feel better. But you did know one thing that always lifts his mood up. So you dragged him to the men’s room and sucked him off. He was much relaxed the rest for the evening thanks to you.

E= Experience (How experienced are they?)

VERY. He’s extremely experienced. He has a lot of knowledge and puts it to good use on you. Which can be a little daunting if you’re more on the inexperienced side but don’t ne afraid. He’ll train you really well, you just have to be a good girl and listen.

F= Favorite Position

His favorite position would be doggy style. Where he’s doing from behind, with you on your hands and knees, or with your head down and ass perched up to him because you never can stay up right when he’s doing you so well. He has full access to your ass, if you’re okay with it he would use his fingers on you, spank your ass. He loves to grab your hips or your ass and your breasts.

He’s also a huge fan of missionary. Because he can’t see your pretty face, or look into your eyes from behind. Most days he wants intimacy and to show you how much he loves you.

G = Goofy (Are they more serious in the moment, or are they humorous, etc.)

Depends on his mood. Sometimes he’s a bit goofy, like talking in a comically exaggerated Boston accent when you told him you liked the sound of his voice and how his accent becomes more prominent when he is horny.

But most of the times, he’s in control. He has to maintain some composure so you wouldn’t question who’s really in charge or think that you could get away with anything. Because you know how to make him laugh, and if he let’s you do that he couldn’t keep a straight face while punishing you.

H = Hair (How well groomed are they, does the carpet match the drapes, etc.)

Chris has dark Brown pubic hair, like that of his beard and the hair on his head.

Does anyone remember that term ‘manscaping'? Where dudes trim their pubic hair to make their dicks look bigger. Chris definitely does that. Although he doesn’t need to because like if he got any bigger he might split you in two.

I = Intimacy (How are they during the moment, romantic aspect)

Doesn’t matter if you’re making love, or fucking hard it will always be intimate and loving with Chris in one way or another.

If you feel needy, and like you want him to show you how much he loves you, you just have to sit on his lap, bat your lashes at him, show him your puppy eyes, and hump his leg a little. He’d get the sign and take you to bed, slowly dragging his cock in and out of you, drawing it out for the both of you, his fingers laced with yours, pinned above your head. He’d feast on your breasts and nipples the whole time just so you could feel his love and need for days.

If you’re feeling particularly frisky, or in a mood to piss him off just so he could be rough with you without you having to ask, you can just give him attitude or roll your eyes a lot. He’ll spank your ass raw, or edge you for hours, or make you climax till it literally hurts, depends on his mood really, to teach you some manners. But since you like the punishment you never learn.

Even while he’s got you over his knee, you not wearing anything but the diamond necklace he gave you, your cheeks wet from crying for the past fifteen minutes, your ass on fire but you still had to take more from him. He tsked, reprimanding you for ruining his expensive dress pants with your slick, playing with your intimate lips, he’d say while stroking your head, “It’s okay, baby, daddy still loves you. Even when you get on my nerves.”

Even while fucking you like he hated you, he made you felt loved and as if you were the most precious person in the world.

J = Jack Off (Masturbation headcanon)

When you started dating, Chris would often masturbate to the thought of you. But when you started sleeping together he never felt the need to, and you asked him not to do it anymore because you didn’t want him wasting his cummies.

Which might’ve been a huge mistake in hindsight because you revealed a weakness of yours. Now when he REALLY wants to punish you, he’d just tie you up jerk off his cock right before your eyes, “See this, sweetheart? I could be fucking your sweet pussy right now, and making you feel good too, but you had go and be a bad girl.” He’d come all over your face or breasts, and would of course make you come too if he feels you’ve learned your lesson.

K = Kink (One or more of their kinks)

Chris has a huge daddy kink. He doesn’t just like the title, he likes everything that comes along with it.

He likes that he has to take care of you, in and outside if the bedroom, being a daddy is a 24/7 job, he has to be considerate to you and grateful for all the trust and love you give him.

He also really likes pinning you down. Whether it be during play wrestling or during sex, it makes him feel strong, and it drives you crazy, absolutely feral for him.

L=Location (Favorite places to do the do)

Yeah you’ve had your share of sneaking off to do it during events but his favorite place to do it would be in the privacy of his own home, preferably his bed so that your dog won’t walk in on you.

M = Motivation (What turns them on, gets them going)

If you simply say, “Screw me.” That would probably be more than enough to turn him on and fulfil your request.

But what grinds his gears is seeing you in tight clothing, or the kind of clothes that would show off your assets. If you’re a good mom to dodger, if you show an interest in the things he likes or do anything that would make his heart flutter and make him fall more in love with you.

N= NO (Something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

He would never have proper public sex because that would probably interfere with his public image and work. Other than that he’s pretty open to most things.

He also wouldn’t like to invite anyone else to your bedroom or to share you. It is a nice fantasy for him but way too risky.

O = Oral (Preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

He likes both giving and receiving equally. He likes having you on your back where he can see your face while he explores your intimate walls with his tongue, but he also likes to have you ride his face. You were apprehensive to at first, but with some convincing you agreed.

Sixtynine is another one of his favorites. He never actually had to ask for it. You were sitting on his face, holding onto his stomach and screaming when you felt your orgasm approaching, he pushed your head just a little, you got the hint, and started working on his cock, which was painfully hard.

P = Pace (Are they fast and rough? Slow and sensual? Etc.)

It would usually depend on what kinda day it is and how you’re both feeling. But most of the time he is usually slow but at the same time rough. Where his thrusts are drawn out but also impactful.

Q= Quickie (Their opinions on quickies rather than proper sex, how often, etc.)

Chris loves quickies. Bending you over the kitchen counter, a quick session in the afternoon on the couch when things got a little too heated while cuddling, in his trailor while he’s on a break, in the shower where he can make you dirty before cleaning you up. You made it.

But he wouldn’t prefer them over proper sex ever. Usually he likes to take his time with you.

R = Risk (Are they game to experiment, do they take risks, etc)

He’s game to experiment to a certain extent. Even if he’s skeptical about something he’d keep an open mind and give it a shot for you.

S= Stamina (How many rounds can they go for, how long do they last)

He’s a fit and motivated man so he can last for a long time and go for many rounds. It’s more likely for you to be tired and tapped out than for him.

If it was a long day on set, and if he’s a little exhausted then he may not be able to go more than once. But will make up for it when he can.

T = Toy (Do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves?)

You both own a variety of butt plugs and vibrators, silky ties, blindfolds, handcuffs that Chris likes to use on you. You even bought a ball gag asking him to put it on you, which was the only time you ever used it because Chris liked to hear your voice and for you to call him daddy or say his name. You couldn’t do it with your mouth full.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Chris teases you a lot, but he would be a MASSIVE tease if he was a little more patient. He knows the effect he has on you. How you can’t take your eyes off him when he wears a t-shirt that’s a bit too tight and shows off his arms, how you can’t help but grab his butt sometimes and feel him up. When you bite your lip or look away when he catches you staring. If you get caught, be prepared because he will only do it more just to egg you on.

His touches a bit too light, he’d bring you to the edge and leave you just there. But fortunately it won’t last long because usually he’s the one who ends up getting riled up.

V = Volume (How loud they are, what sounds they make)

He’s loud alright. And he isn’t ashamed of it. He would never try to hide how good you make him feel, or miss an opportunity to call you a good girl and praise your gorgeous body. There will be lots of grunting and groaning and moaning and you revel in every second of it.

X = X-Ray (Let s see what’s going on in those pants, picture or words)

He’s pretty big. Much bigger than average. He looked pretty average when he wasn’t hard, you let that fool you into thinking you could take him pretty easily, he wasn’t that much bigger than anyone else you’d had sex with right?

Your eyes almost popped out of your head when you saw him hard, his dick hard and thick and a blush pink, two thick running on the sides of it.

He assured you that he would make it fit and that you had nothing to be worried about.

Y = Yearning (How high is their sex drive?)

It’s pretty high. Higher than most people at least. You call him your horndog, but like in a nice way, because he always wants it. Even if you spent an entire night screaming his name and being used and stretched in ways that made your pussy as well as your body sore, he would still ask for more the very next morning. He’d respect you if you say no and back off immediately but he’s up for it whenever you want.

ZZZ (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

If he has things on his mind, and if you fall asleep sooner than usual then he’d be up a while. But most of the times he falls asleep quickly after.

[thebookishhijabiwrites]

 MY HIJAB STORY

"I won't let you come with me if you wear this burqa. Understood?"

Mrs. Khan fixed her brown furious gaze at the 12-year-old girl who was insistent on wearing a burqaa and beginning Hijab.

After being unable to convince her father, she was trying to persuade her mother. She was pretty sure that her mother would definitely support her. It was none other than her mother who taught her to wear a head scarf at an early age, even with criticism from people.

But, oh no!

Her mother's statement was like an arrow from the heavens that sent the earth trembling in terror and shaking her feet.

With faltering steps and a heavy heart, she decided to try the tool of last resort and stood before her Merciful Lord. She prayed to Allah that if you want me to do hijab, then make me steadfast on it from this very day. Help me now. Please!

When she moved her head to the left reciting "Assalamualaikum wa rahmatullah", a strong and confident girl woke up inside her.

Folding the prayer mat, she said politely in a confident voice:

"Mother, I will do the hijab, inshaAllah. If you take me with you, I'll be grateful. Otherwise, I am not leaving without a burqa. "

Mrs. Khan's gentle nature and need to take the girl with her played a role.

So she surrendered saying:

"Let's go today. But it should never happen next time."

"Aww, thank you so much, Ammi"

Hugging her mother tightly she quickly slipped into her burqa, like a princess pouring herself into her long dress. She crowned her hair with a hijab, leaning forward to the mirror. As her vision swam to the mirror, she caught the reflection of a brightening pearl in its shell. She blinked.

This time, in the midst of its thorns, a red rose blushed. 

"Wow, is it me?" she whispered with curiosity.

A moon smiled back at her, shielded behind its clouds.

"Yes, little girl! There is no one more beautiful than a girl who attains hijab for the pleasure of her Allah. She is a rare & precious diamond that can't be found easily, a beaming pearl in its shell, a rose protected by thorns, and a moon covered by clouds."

An imaginative voice soothed her ears and soul.

Swelling with happiness, she adorned herself with socks and gloves as well.

Her hijab covered her body but opened her mind to the greater beauty that is Allah's.  

----

During the journey, a strange incident happened that jolted the roots of Mrs. Khan.

An old man, likely in his nineties, was thrilled to see her in that way and couldn't resist patting her on the head with trembling hands. And said:

"Oh Daughter! I am very glad to see you in this condition in this era, because otherwise, women have completely neglected the hijab."

And giving many blessings, he left while Mrs. Khan remained numb with tears springing into her eyes.

No sooner did they return home than she held her daughter in a warm and tight embrace. She apologized for her rude behavior and promised to support her fully. 

That's when the Hijabi journey started. While she received encouraging words from some people, A lot overwhelmed her with a barrage of taunts and insults. Someone would tease, "You are going to be crazy soon" some would say "She is a small child now, why did you put her behind curtains?" Another voice would echo, "Hey, Does Islam ask you to hide from your cousin too with whom you have spent your childhood?" Someone said teasingly, "Now in a few years, you will going to hide from your father also."

"Hey look! Here comes the Mullani" and so on.

These criticisms would cause her delicate heart to ache sweetly. She would say, "Come on, let me suffer something for Allah."

Someone's voice would echo in her mind: "Sister, our prophet suffered a lot for us. Can't we bear some taunts for him?"

So, she would feel a "special pleasure" in suffering for Allah and his beloved prophet peace be upon him.

Sometimes, a few taunts would make her misty-eyed. And once in a while, she burst into tears.

But there is beauty in being rejected by people. It teaches you to rely on Allah for everything.

Allah Ta'ala has extended His help on various occasions. Which, if written, might become a booklet. Now, thanks to Allah's mercy, my parents are more than happy with my hijab and support me strongly.

Despite criticism, the hijabi journey continues with Allah's mercy and the support of loved ones. May Allah grant steadfastness.

---

Hey there!

How was my story? Did you find it interesting?

Feel free to comment below with your valuable feedback.

My message to the sisters is that it does not matter where you are at in your hijab journey, it still counts. Keep improving day by day for your Merciful Allah! He doesn't waste a single good deed done for him.

See you soon in the next post!

Salam.

[manic-pixies-dream-girl]

angelic devil

devil's advocate!james x angel!reader

this isnt really a blurb or fic so idk what to do with it

word count: 0.5k

a/n: sudden inspiration, i dont know how to explain it but this might be the best thing ive written, james isnt explicitly stated so feel free to imagine him as anyone youd like i just personally imagined him when i wrote this

navigation

He notices her from across the room, angelic. She’s clad in a silk dress the milky tones of it shimmering and caressing her skin complimenting everything about her perfectly. He loved the way her hair flowed gently down her shoulders and past falling against her dress. How the eyeliner and mascara she wore were uneven and slightly smudged from the humidity and her naturally shaky hands.

He wanted to delve himself into her and lose himself along the way, he wanted her to be everything that he felt, wanted, needed. He wanted her to be the reason he could breathe, he wanted her to be his oxygen, to never be apart from her.

She’s the forbidden angel and he’s the devil's advocate, a pretentious duo, the pale golden aura, and the death-laden darkness. Glowing halo and devil horns, pastel angel wings that carried her to a better place, a place where she belonged, and dark murky wings that carried him to the depths of darkness. She lit the whole room on fire with her love and he only darkened it, she spread happiness and he spread despair.

He wanted to be like her, he wanted to be so much more, he wanted to have hope again, it’d been too long since he’d hoped for anything. He hoped she would notice him lurking in the corner, he hoped she would talk to him, he hoped she would shine her light onto him and only him for a moment, even just a moment of hope, of happiness, of love. He wanted to be enough for her to stay even though asking for someone to stay is much more difficult than only saying goodbye.

She met his eyes feeling them study her for so long, they were swirling with gold only the angels had in their souls, pure innocence, hearts of gold. His red-brown eyes swirled back at her hoping that she wouldn’t look away. He hoped she could bring him to the light, he didn’t want the darkness anymore, he wanted to be free, he wanted to be with her. He wanted the unforbidden innocence she held, he wanted to be able to hold her without her being burned by his darkness.

It was like she was drawing him in, reaching out and calling, beckoning him to come and be with her. He got his hopes, he reached out, she reached too.

The energy of the touch sent shudders through their spines, the grazing of fingertips, ones so soft they could’ve easily belonged to a child, and the others rough and calloused though utterly inviting. Palms dancing together caressing lightly, testing each other, their eyes trained on the flesh of one another. They held each other's wrists and she looked into his eyes, he looked into her, they waited as if only for the other to break off and pull away, neither did.

He devoured everything about her, the way her skin felt against his, the way her eyes sparkled explicitly like diamonds up close, her soft lips smooth and unchapped, and the freckles dancing across the bridge of her nose. He couldn't see it but his eyes and aura were glowing gold, his wings dampened colors were fading and he hardly noticed, he lost himself in her.

tags: @miss-starkov @beforeoursunsets @weasleys-wizard-wap @lxngbottom @bellatrixscurls @weasleytwinswheezes @evermoreeve @futuremrsmalfoy20 @thatsassyhufflepuff @acosmis-t @astoria-malfcy @samineisntmyname @dahliatopia @mullthingsoverinthehotwater @gwlvr @deadwizarrdsociety @keepawaythenargles @harrysnosebleed @malfoyslovies @siriusblackkinnie @fleursbabe @hellounicorn @inureflower @lily-evans-is-my-mommy-tehe @crystxlss @lavenderbrxwn @nate-isnt-great @i-love-scott-mccall @destourtereaux @themarauders-and-lucienswhore @dracossweetprincess @faeinorbit @ladyvesuvia @mnachopsis @simply-simping @weasleyswizardpleases

[ please let me know if you dont wish to be tagged ]

[danydragons21]

The Shadows That Sing: Ch. 9

Elriel Multi-Chapter Fic

Chapter 9 is up, and it’s definitely one of my favorites. I just love writing Vassa’s character!

Read it on Ao3 here: 

Shoutout to my betas @shedoessoshedoes and @helloyesimrhys!

Let me know your thoughts, my sweet Elriel babies. 

xoxo, dany

CHAPTER 9: TRUTHS AND LIES

An old man answered the door. Perhaps it was because she was around immortal and young-looking Fae all the time, but she thought he might be the oldest person she’d ever seen. Deep wrinkles formed grooves and channels among the topography of his face. His mortal heart started beating faster as he took in the sight of her and Azriel (though she was sure this was mostly due to Azriel’s intimidating presence rather than her own, since she was as intimidating as a sack of potatoes), but to the human’s credit, he gave no outward sign of fear.

After introducing himself as Damien, the Steward of the Manor, the man ushered them inside. A split staircase made of stone stood in the center of the spacious foyer, the wide steps leading to a roomy landing with two narrowing flights branching off to either side. The staircase railing was made of wrought iron. Stunningly intricate marble statues and busts atop podiums were placed strategically throughout the entrance hall, and as Elain’s slipper-clad feet pitter-pattered lightly across the black-and-white tiled floor, a glimmer of light caught her eye. Glancing upward, she saw a gigantic crystal chandelier hanging from the high ceiling. The light from the candles on the wall reflected against the crystals and cast glittering diamonds of colored light on various surfaces throughout the hall.

She and Azriel did not speak as they continued to follow Damien throughout the Manor. For such an old man, he was surprisingly quick, and she found herself wishing they could slow down, if only so she could admire her surroundings: astounding frescoes painted on the walls and ceilings, tapestries woven with what looked like real gold, and carpets so plush she thought she could sleep on them. But the Steward led them through the Manor’s winding hallways, and Elain settled for exploring the many treasures another time. She’d be here for a month, after all.

Eventually, they entered a hall that was much darker than the rest of the Manor, and much sparser.  Blood-red columns and dimly-lit candelabras lined the narrow corridor. Damien halted in front of a set of arched crimson doors at the end of the hall. Words, etched in gold, covered the doors’ surface, but it was of no language Elain could recognize.

“This is the entrance to the Throne Room. Her Grace is waiting inside for you both.” Damien said.

Elain and Azriel’s eyes met. With a slight nod of her head, Elain motioned to Azriel that she was fine, she was ready, she could do this. And it warmed some crucial part of her when Azriel nodded in return, offering her a small smile, his belief in her nearly palpable.

The doors flew open and the pair stepped inside the cavernous throne room. Lucien stood at the bottom of a set of steep steps. Above him, sitting on a golden gilded throne, was Vassa.

The mortal queen was utterly stunning. Fiery red hair fell to her shoulders, contrasting magnificently against her golden-brown skin. The top of her emerald gown was made of lace and clung tightly to her delicate torso. Once the dress hit her waist, it expanded outward, the perfectly-creased pleats flowing to the ground like a river. The train of the dress was so long it reached the bottom of the steps that led to the throne. Bright blue eyes scanned them smartly. The thought suddenly struck her that if anyone were to figure out her secret mission, it would be Vassa.

Elain curtsied deeply. “It’s lovely to meet you, Your Grace. Thank you for inviting me into your home.”

Vassa smiled slightly, though her piercing eyes still appraised Elain. “You are most welcome, Elain Archeron. Kingslayer . You are even more beautiful than Lucien has described.”

Elain remained silent, schooling her face into cold stone. She felt an irrational flash of rage at the thought of Lucien discussing her beauty like that, as though she was a painting to be ogled at like the frescos in the entrance hall. She snuck a glance at Azriel, trying to gauge his reaction, but his face was as steely as ever.

“I appreciate the compliment, Your Grace.” Elain said finally.

The mortal queen waved a dainty hand, her heavy bracelets jangling as she did so. “Call me Vassa. Your Grace is so formal, don’t you think? We’ll be living together for the next month, and if I have to hear such courtesies every day, I might as well just hand myself over to Koschei now.”

Elain blinked. Even Azriel seemed surprised at the queen’s words.

Clearing his throat, Lucien said, “You’ll realize soon, if you haven’t already, that Vassa does not have a filter. If she thinks it, she says it. It’s something she’s working on.”

Vassa scowled at Lucien, who grinned lightly back at her. Elain felt the strangest tug in her belly at the sight. Ignoring it, she said, “I appreciate the familiarity, Vassa.” Familiarities are for friends. She wondered what that made her and the mortal queen.

Turning her attention to Azriel, Vassa said, “Shadowsinger. It’s lovely to make your acquaintance again.”

Azriel bowed slightly. “Likewise, Your���Vassa,” he finished uncertainly.

She beamed, apparently pleased with his discomfort. “I hear you’re going to be a regular visitor at my manor. I hope you know that you are always welcome at any time, even outside of your scheduled sessions with Elain.” Elain felt an awkward tug around her heart, as though someone had tied a string around her ribcage and pulled. The feeling was uncomfortably familiar, and she knew without looking at Lucien that he would prefer the Shadowsinger not take the queen up on her offer.

Azriel inclined his head. “That’s very gracious of you.”

Grinning mischievously, Vassa said, “It’s not every day someone so devilishly handsome enters my home. I’d be silly not to take advantage of it.”

Elain’s eyes widened. She was not sure what she expected Vassa to be like, but never in her wildest dreams did she imagine her to be so... forward . She turned to Azriel slightly, gauging his reaction, only to find the Spymaster blushing . The knot in the pit of her stomach hardened.

“Is Vassa already scaring off the newcomers?” A drawling voice appeared from the other end of the throne room. Elain knew that voice. She’d heard it before, on two of the worst days of her life.

Jurian strolled into the room, all ease and confidence. He was quite handsome, she supposed, for a mortal, but he paled in comparison to both Azriel and Lucien’s otherworldly beauty. He stopped in front of Elain. “Lady Archeron,” he said, “It’s lovely to see you again.” He then proceeded to bend obscenely low, grab her hand and kiss it lightly, holding her gaze the entire time. Elain’s cheeks turned scarlet. She wasn’t sure she liked the man too much - he seemed far too arrogant.

“Elain is fine,” she told him evenly. He continued to hold her hand. Behind her, she heard the rustle of Azriel’s wings flexing ever so slightly.

“Jurian, you absolute prick, let go of her hand before you lose one of your own,” Vassa said, and although it was clear she was joking, an edge of honesty laced her words. The mortal queen’s eyes flitted to Lucien, who stood tensely beside her, frozen like a statue.

“Just welcoming our new roommate,” Jurian said. He winked at her, but dropped her hand all the same. The mortal then turned to Azriel. “Shadowsinger,” He said with a trace of apprehension. Jurian had been the one to shoot Azriel with an ash arrow in Hybern, Elain suddenly remembered, and her dislike for the man grew. Azriel acknowledged Jurian’s greeting with the smallest nod of his head, like he was flicking off an irksome fly. His shadows swirled ominously around him, and Elain was pleased to see Jurian wince slightly at the impressive display.

Vassa rose gracefully from her throne and made her way down the steep, stone steps. Jurian rushed to grab her hand, helping her down; Lucien’s eyes flashed curiously in response, but he said nothing.

“Azriel, you’ll be staying for a while, I hope?” Vassa asked.

The Shadowsinger nodded, his shadows bobbing along with the movement. “Yes. I’ll be making sure Elain settles in, and then I’ll depart after our daily training session.”

Vassa clapped her hands in excitement. “Oh, you must stay for dinner! I’m having the cooks prepare something special for Elain’s first evening here. We even imported some exotic wine from the southern realms. Oh, please say you’ll stay!” Her azure eyes gleamed with sincerity.

Shifting, Azriel replied stiffly, “I couldn’t possibly impose--”

“You wouldn’t be imposing. You would be a welcome guest. If anything, you’ll be doing Elain and I a favor, saving us from listening to Lucien and Jurian all evening. I’ve never met males who enjoy hearing themselves talk as much as these two.” The two males in question attempted to argue this point indignantly, but Vassa ignored them and looked expectantly at Azriel, awaiting his answer.

Elain bit back a grin as Azriel finally nodded his agreement. She’d never seen the Spymaster acquiesce to someone’s demand so quickly, but it was abundantly clear that Vassa excelled at the art of persuasion, the skill either stemming from her sharp intelligence, inviting aura, or some lethal combination of the two. Either way, she was certain that Vassa would not be easily fooled. That made Elain’s mission all the more difficult.

“Wonderful!” Vassa beamed at Azriel, who continued to look as awkward as she’d ever seen him. It was quite funny, really. “Now we can really get to know each other,” She winked.

Elain frowned. Quickly, she cast around for a new subject, but Lucien beat her to it.

“Have you had any more visions about Koschei?” He asked Elain.

“No, I have not.” She didn’t look at Lucien as she responded, instead staring at Vassa, who had gone still at the question.

“But you’re trying to see him, right? You’re trying to find a way for Vassa to get out of the curse?” Jurian demanded.

Elain blinked. “Yes, of course.” She answered.

Coolly, Azriel said, “Elain just started training her powers recently. She has made immense progress, but does not have complete control over what visions she receives. That will come in time.”

“We don’t have time,” Jurian growled.

Azriel’s wings snapped out menacingly as Vassa laid a steadying hand on Jurian’s arm.

“That was uncalled for, Jurian.” She told the man sternly. The voice of a queen talking to a subject. But when she turned to face Elain, emotion burned in her eyes.

“Please excuse my friend. This curse has, unfortunately, been a burden on us all. But I hope you know how grateful we are--how grateful I am-- that you are doing all you can to help me. After so long with no hope…to even have that glimmer of optimism returned, well, it means more than I can express.”

Elain swallowed back the lump in her throat. “I will do everything I can. I promise.” It was all the comfort she could offer, but Vassa nodded like it was enough.

“Well, enough of this horrifyingly morose chat! Elain, I would love to give you a tour of the Manor. I hear you enjoy gardening. I’m afraid we don’t have a garden on our grounds, but we have something else I think you’ll enjoy just as much. Would you like to see?”

It wasn’t like Elain could say no. Besides, Vassa had her curiosity piqued.

“Gladly,” She responded, smiling lightly.

“Should I come, too?” Azriel murmured. Elain looked up at him, surprised at the question. Why was he acting so protective?

“Oh, we’ll be just fine.” Vassa trilled. “Besides, the aggressive male testosterone emanating from you all is clogging up my pores. Us girls need some fresh air.”

Elain couldn’t help it. She giggled.

Everyone in the room turned to her. Embarrassed, she covered her mouth with her hands, lowering them just enough to whisper, “Sorry.”

But the human queen was smiling at her, something like approval glowing in her eyes. “Well, at least one of you has a sense of humor.”

***

Vassa led Elain through the manor’s hallways, pointing out various portraits of past queens, also known as her ancestors. “That’s my great-great-grandmother, Althea,” Vassa said, gesturing toward a painting of a particularly rotund woman with a face like a toad. “She was the most-hated queen of her age, and almost got my family kicked off the throne.”  

Elain’s eyebrows raised at that. “Why was she so hated?”

Vassa smirked slightly. “Did you see that painting of her? She looked like an old witch and had a personality to match. Althea would execute anyone who dared disagree with her, even if it was over something as insignificant as what tea to serve at breakfast. Thank God she died of The Pox before she could desecrate the family name anymore.”

Elain laughed, shaking her head slightly, bemused by this mortal queen with humor and heart as fiery as her tresses.

The Mortal Manor, it turns out, actually was a castle, or at least it had been built as one initially. A lesser Lord and Lady had lived there, so the castle was rather on the smaller side, according to Vassa, but Elain thought it would be a miracle if she ever managed to find her way around the place without an escort.

“It’s considered a manor now, though,” Vassa told Elain, lifting up a tapestry and motioning for her to follow. “It’s a secret passageway,” the queen said in response to Elain’s confused look. “I can’t say it’s much of a secret, though; I’m pretty sure every handmaiden and their pet cat know about it. It’s rather short and just leads to the conservatory.”  

The conservatory, it turned out, was the most beautiful room Elain had ever seen. It’s high and arching walls were made entirely out of wide windows. Rows of colorful blooms, perfectly trimmed hedges and shrubs, sprawling plants, and flowers of every kind covered nearly every surface of the wide and spacious area. Heavy sunlight refracted in the glass, coating the various fauna in a blazing, golden brilliance. In the very center was a rectangular pool; lilies floated lazily on the clear and calm surface. The heavenly scent the flowers emitted, the angelic glow of the afternoon sun against the blossoms, the soft chirping of the birds that lived in this cavernous haven...she took a deep breath, soaking in the sudden and steady sense of peace she felt.

“Do you like it?” Vassa’s voice shattered the quiet of Elain’s thoughts.

Turning around, Elain saw the mortal queen standing a bit behind her, a curiously vulnerable look on her face. As if she was nervously awaiting Elain’s reaction. As if she truly cared about her opinion.

It softened that part of Elain. That part she’d hoped to shove away and ignore during her stay because she knew it would only complicate her mission. While her sisters were vehement and slightly mistrustful of every stranger until proved otherwise, Elain had always found a way to connect with each person she came across. Like ivy, sprawling and uncontrollable, her heart just reached out to others.

And that’s what happened now, as she stared at this passionate and willful young woman who she rather liked but was assigned the task of spying on her: Elain’s heart reached out to her.

“It’s sublime,” Elain told her honestly. A beaming grin appeared on Vassa’s face, and Elain couldn’t stop her own smile. “Thank you, truly, for showing me.”

“I hope it makes you feel a little more at home.”

“It does. You’re very kind.”

Vassa smiled again and walked forward to lightly stroke a gardenia. When she turned to face Elain again, the smile was gone, replaced with a look Elain could only describe as queenly . “I know why you’re here,” Vassa said.

Elain froze. “What?” She asked, her throat dry. How could she have figured it out already? Elain had been nothing but polite and kind and oh-so-convincing --

“I know you are not interested in the bond with Lucien,” Vassa said, and Elain’s racing heart relaxed slightly. “He’s told me much about your interactions, and while I don’t blame you for anything...I think it’s clear to everyone here that you have no desire to connect with Lucien. So that’s why you’re here, isn’t it? To reject the bond once and for all.”

Swallowing nervously, Elain said, “I...I’m not sure what to say.”

“The truth,” Vassa replied simply. “Just tell me the truth. What is it you want to accomplish during your stay?”

Just be yourself . Azriel’s voice rang in her ears.

“I don’t know, “ Elain answered. “I am not sure exactly what I want to accomplish. And that’s the truth.”

And it was the truth, to a point. Enough of the truth to cloak any deceptions. That’s how Azriel operated, a mix of honesty and an omittance of anything that might erase that honesty. Just enough truth to hide the lies beneath. And so that’s what Elain emulated as she spoke to the mortal queen.

Vassa appraised her for a moment, her sharp blue eyes gleaming. “Why do you detest Lucien so?”

“I don’t detest him.” Another truth, one that Elain had barely admitted to herself. “I just…” she breathed deeply, longing for air and for the insight of what to say next. Truth and lies , she reminded herself. “All I know about him is that he didn’t help Feyre when she needed it most. That he worked with the King of Hybern to steal her back. To steal me , and Nesta. And, whether or not he knew of the King’s plan, he was still there the night my future and my freedom were ripped from me in mere moments. And ever since then...ever since then, I haven’t known what to do with myself at all.”

It was, perhaps, the most she’d ever spoken about the emptiness the Cauldron had left in her. Feyre and the others told her that the Cauldron had gifted her with her powers, while Nesta had stolen from it, but it didn’t feel like that to Elain. No, all she felt was an aching hollowness that echoed in her very bones. A constant and cruel reminder of all she’d lost.

Vassa stared at her, her beautiful face unreadable in the glowing sun. “It changes you,” She finally said. “To have such decisions, to have such freedom taken away from you…” Vassa inhaled sharply, tilting her head up to face the gleaming sun. Elain watched her, watched her golden skin reflecting in the light, watched as the mortal queen whipped her head back. “I understand how you feel, Elain. I hope you know that.”

And while Elain did not know the full extent of Vassa’s story or exactly what she’d gone through while under Koschei’s grasp, she believed her. And she didn’t just think it was because of Vassa’s endearing personality or her own - what had Azriel called it? - ability to inspire trust in others. She felt a kinship in Vassa, like she’d known her in a past life. But she couldn’t put all that into words, so she just nodded.

Vassa combed through her fiery hair and then said in a calm voice, “I also hope you know that, over the past year, I have spent a lot of time with Lucien. I would never try to negate the trauma that you’ve experienced, or try and convince you that he did not play a part in it, willing or not. But I will tell you this, as objectively and simply as I can: He is a good male, Elain. He would never force you to accept the bond. Just as he would never tell you how much your denial and evasion is tearing him apart. I say this as his friend...and as yours.”

Elain just blinked. The honesty was scalding and refreshing all at once. And while her stomach twisted angrily every time she thought of her sisters telling her to address the bond, she found she didn’t really mind Vassa talking about it.

“While you are here, I hope you get to know him. And at the end of your stay, I hope you can make a decision about the bond. One way or another.”

“I will,” Elain said. “I will make a decision.” And it was entirely, completely, wholly the truth.

***

Azriel sat in the dining room with Jurian and Lucien. After an uncomfortable and tense tour of the Manor, the three had gone to the dining room for dinner. The two females had not yet arrived, though.

Elain had been gone with Vassa for a long time. Or perhaps the incredible awkwardness between him and the two males just made it seem like a long time. Either way, he needed Elain to return soon, or else he might just go mad, stuck with just these two pricks and his morose thoughts for company. He couldn’t stop reliving the conversation from the previous evening, when Elain had agreed to this foolish plan. It was nearly unbearable for Azriel, to sit there and listen to everyone try and convince Elain that the bond was something she had to address. Why should she have to do anything? She didn’t ask for the bond. It was clear she didn’t want it.

And yet Azriel said nothing, did nothing, just let them all bombard her with their words and pressures. He didn’t even need his shadows to know how upset it made Elain, how her beautiful face fell into itself a little more with every word the others spoke.

She had agreed in the end, though. And he kicked himself for ever holding out hope that she wouldn’t.

It’s not that he didn’t have faith in her. He knew she could fool and charm just about anyone, so he wasn’t worried about her spying skills. Spying was simply hiding in plain sight, and Elain certainly excelled at that.

No, he was worried about something else entirely. Someone else, to be exact. Because whatever the others might say about not caring if Elain accepted or rejected the bond, he knew that wasn’t true. Elain accepting the bond would be incredibly beneficial in improving the Night Court’s relationships with both the Autumn Court and the Spring Court, and would ensure the continued support of Vassa. As much as Azriel didn’t like Lucien, he couldn’t help but feel a begrudging sort of respect to the highly influential male who held sway over multiple courts. But that didn’t give any of them the fucking right to pressure Elain into anything .

The Mortal Manor made him feel even worse. His shadows had rarely ever been limited in their power, and so it was strange to have them so confined. They could move, of course, and still followed his command, but the entirety of the manor seemed to be close enough to Vassa that all his shadows heard were a faint humming noise, like a mosquito buzzing in his ear.

Even with Vassa out of the room, the buzzing lingered. He wished he could have gone with them (not only did he wish to keep Elain in his sight while he still could, but he had no desire to spend quality time with Lucien and Jurian, both of which were arguably two of his least favorite beings. If only Eris was here to complete the motley trio).

Lucien had yet to speak to him directly since his arrival. Azriel knew it was because of his parting remarks the week before -- his warning. About what he’d do to Lucien if the male ever forced Elain to do something she didn’t want to do. He didn’t regret it, not in the slightest. But sitting across from Lucien’s murderous glower wasn’t exactly an enjoyable experience. He’d rather do something more pleasant, like stick toothpicks under his nails.

And Jurian was, if possible, even worse. The human never. Shut. Up. He talked constantly, about any and every thing that popped into his head, it seemed.

Now I feel even worse about leaving Elain here. His cold heart hardened a little more at the thought.

The doors swung open and Vassa sashayed into the dining room, Elain following.

It took all his effort to not let his mouth drop as he took in the middle Archeron sister. She was wearing a silver gown with material so smooth and sleek it looked liquid. The dress clung to her small chest and the generous curves of her rear like a second skin, but she still somehow looked innocent, intoxicatingly so. Her golden-brown hair was piled into an elegant but simple updo at the top of her head, a few curls hanging loosely around her angelic face.

A heaviness settled in his chest as his eyes zeroed in on her exposed neck. It seemed the greatest tragedy of his life: he’d touched her there, once.

Elain’s eyes flitted up and locked with his, and time ceased to exist, for a brief moment. That was all he and Elain were allowed to have. Fleeting moments, as vital as they were destructive.

“Sorry we’re late,” Vassa said airily. She was wearing a new dress as well, Azriel suddenly noticed.  He frowned. Usually his shadows would have told him that the two females had ventured to their respective quarters to change. Without his shadows abilities working, he felt impaired.

The two females settled themselves into chairs. Azriel tried to control his disappointment when Vassa took the empty chair to his left, leaving Elain to sit between Lucien and Jurian.

“How was your afternoon?” Lucien asked Elain.

Bitterness filled his chest at the gentle, cautious way he spoke to her, like he was approaching a timid animal. She was not a creature to be coddled and comforted. She was a lethal and lovely force of nature.

“It was delightful. How was yours?” She kept her voice neutral, not engaging but not dismissive. His stomach dropped at the light that appeared in Lucien’s eyes.

“It was pleasant, as well. I’m glad you enjoyed your afternoon. I hope you know how excited I...how excited Vassa has been to have you here.”

Ignoring his stumble, Elain smiled tightly and nodded once before piling green beans onto her plate. Her eyes flashed up to Azriel; he was watching her closely, but could see nothing in her expression besides discomfort. Good. Without it, she would seem suspicious to the others.

But then Elain began asking Lucien and Jurian a few questions; it was casual, polite conversation, but still: she was initiating it. He stabbed his chicken angrily with his fork, trying to ignore her light, lilting voice, trying to pretend the sound didn’t make his skin tingle.

“Are you alright?” Vassa asked him. The mortal queen was watching him curiously.

“Yes,” Azriel responded shortly.

Vassa arched an eyebrow. “You’re quite prickly, you know.”

Azriel frowned. “And you’re quite nosy.”

Across the table, Elain froze with a forkful of beans halfway to her mouth, dark eyes flashing in warning. Azriel almost chuckled at her shock. But then Vassa laughed, an uninhibited, ringing sound. “Yes,” She agreed.

“So I’m curious,” Vassa began, swirling her wine glass and taking a deep sip before continuing, “What is your stake in all of this?”

“I’m not sure what you mean.”

Vassa nodded across the table to Elain, who had returned to her conversation with the other two males. “You’re helping her train. Why?”

Azriel stiffened. “My High Lord and Lady asked me to. As a member of the Night Court, it is my duty and my honor to serve their wishes to the best of my ability.”

“Oh, please,” Vassa said loudly, and Azriel saw the others glance curiously at her before continuing their conversation. “Don’t feed that bullshit to a Queen. I may not know you, but I know of you, and reputation eclipses familiarity, much of the time. You don’t do anything you don’t want to do. So, I’ll ask again...what is your stake in all of this?”

You don’t do anything you don’t want to do. How he wished that was true. But he kept his face as unreadable as ever as he said, “Helping her means helping you, and that means helping my Court. I am sorry that my answer is not the one you were looking for.”

“So you and Elain aren’t close? That’s rather surprising. Aren’t both of your alleged brothers mated to her sisters? And you’re quite protective over her.”

His wings tensed. This mortal woman was certainly tenacious. And observant. “I wouldn’t say we are particularly close,” Azriel said. Anymore, he thought. “But I would consider her...a friend.” He finished.

Vassa surveyed him for a moment, her piercing blue eyes nearly scorching in their intensity. Azriel held her gaze. Whatever Vassa found, she seemed to accept, as she turned back to the others.

“She certainly is an easy person to be friends with,” Vassa said, watching Elain with a small smile on her face. And that’s how easy it was for Azriel to see that, like everyone who’d ever met the middle Archeron sister, the mortal queen had fallen under Elain’s spell.

Swallowing down the lump in his throat, Azriel replied, “Yes. She is.”

***

After dinner, Elain and Azriel left the others for her training session. Elain had asked if they could hold the sessions in the conservatory - “It just makes me feel safer and more in control of myself, to be in such a beautiful place,” Elain said to Vassa at dinner. The queen had lit up at Elain’s request, telling her the room was hers as long as she needed it.

So that’s how Az found himself in the manor’s conservatory with Elain. It was dark outside, now, but the moon shone so brightly that they had no trouble seeing.

She sat across from him on a bench in the very center of the cavernous atrium, her wide brown eyes surveying the peaceful scene in front of her.

“This is a nice place,” Azriel commented lamely.

This is a nice place?! He could not be more awkward if he tried.

But of course Elain did not tease him. Not like she used to. Because they weren’t friends anymore.

Instead, she said, “It is, isn’t it? I also figured it would be difficult for anyone to overhear us here.”

Az grinned. “Smart,” he said truthfully.

Shrugging, Elain said with a slight sparkle in her eye, “It’s been known to happen.” There . Even if it was faint...that little piece of her that treated him with amusement and (dare he say it?) affection still existed.

“You did well today,” He told her, leaning back and stretching out his long legs.

“It was easier than I thought,” Elain said. “To pretend...or at least to hide. I don’t know if that makes me happy or not.”

He cocked his head. “Why wouldn’t that make you happy?”

She looked at him. “It feels an awful lot like lying. I don’t want to be a liar.”

Azriel found he did not know what to say to that.

“I do think the conservatory will help with my training,” Elain mused, turning her gaze up to the wide windows. The moon gleamed through the glass panes like a beacon. “The peaceful darkness...the quiet contentment...the vibrant life you can feel ...all of it makes me feel more in control of myself. More powerful, even.” She smoothed down the front of her gown. “It was very kind of Vassa to offer this room up to us.”

“She thinks very highly of you.”

“I know.” Elain’s voice was tired, resigned. “I could easily see myself becoming friends with her. But I know that would only complicate my mission.”

“Perhaps. It’s all about finding a balance. You can respect her, like her even, share confidences and stories and experiences...but it’s true you need to stay objective. Get close to Vassa - but not too close. The same goes for both Jurian and...and Lucien.” The name tasted like vinegar in his mouth, but he forced himself to say it.

Elain was quiet for a long moment, lost in her thoughts. “Shall we begin training?” She asked after a while.

“One other thing first.” Straightening up and fully turning his body to face Elain, he waited until she met his gaze. Trepidation filled her brown eyes as she noticed his solemn intensity.

“What?” She asked slowly.

“Are you ready to talk about how your hands glowed at dinner last night?”

[conniespringerblkwife]

Drummer Boy

(Connie Springer x Female Reader | NSFW)

A/N: So i was using the bathroom and then BOOM Connie fic idea. In conclusion, using the bathroom=best ideas.

Also I wrote this awhile back and since it’s Connie’s bday today, I thought it was the perfect opportunity to post it.

Warnings: Connie with eyeliner, Smut: Fingering, rough sex, and Connie grabbing the headboard

Summary: Y/N and her childhood best friend, Connie grew apart when once they began college. Three years later, Connie sees Y/N practicing and his feelings return for her.

*2,785 words*

Songs I listened to while writing:

Bubblegum Bitch by Marina and the Diamonds

Bad Romance (Lady Gaga) by Halestorm [Cover]

You and Connie used to be close friends since you were three all the way up to college.

Even though you two were best friends, you were polar opposites. He was an extrovert and you enjoyed quiet time by yourself. You had straight As, and Connie on the other hand, struggled in school. A D was an A to him. And although Connie was more popular than you, there was always one thing that brought you two together. Music.

Music has always been something you two can bond over. You played the violin and he played the drums. Even though you two enjoyed different genres of music, you understood each other's passion. Connie always wanted to play in a band and you always wanted to travel with a big orchestra and be first chair. You two understood each other's motives and worked hard everyday.

When you two started to grow up, you guys made a promise to never forget about each other when you two become famous. But that promise was broken, when you went to college. You and Connie both attended the same university, but became distant as you two joined different groups. You guys didn't realize the relationship died, it just gradually happened.

You both were caught up in different careers and lost time for each other.

You two met again, while you were practicing your solo, for an upcoming concert. You didn't realize anyone walked in until you heard the sound of clapping and a voice. "Wow!"

Your eyes adjusted to the figure below and you realized it was Connie. "That was amazing Y/n, you really have grown." He flashed a smile and you gave him a small one in return.

"Thanks Connie." You started to place your instrument in the case.

"How you've been?" He asked softly.

"Fine. And you?" You turned around to make eye contact with him.

"Good." You two stood in awkward silence. It's been so long since you two interacted with each other. You didn't know what to say. You guys haven't talked since freshman year of college, you're a senior now.

"Well, I'll go now." You gave him another small smile and proceeded. As you were heading out, you heard him call out your name.

"Wait Y/N!" You turned around and saw him jogging towards you. "Come to my gig tomorrow night."

"I don't know, I think I have practice tomorrow."

"Well if you don't." He pulled out a folded piece of paper out his pocket and handed it to you. "You're always welcomed." You studied the flyer and saw at the top, "10 pm: Riot of the Red Heart will be performing, 'There's a Hole in My Stomach.'"

"I'll see." You smiled and left the building.

*

You plopped on the bed and studied the flyer. "Riot of the Red Heart," you said to yourself. You decided to look them up and was amazed how popular they were on campus. You noticed they had an Instagram and clicked on their page. There were three members: Connie, a girl and a guy. The guy hair was pretty long and he had a beard, and also played guitar. The girl, you assumed was the main singer, had light brown hair and in her right hand was a potato.

As you continued to scroll through their page, you took note how happy Connie looked. Something in your heart twisted as memories came back, but you suppressed them and told yourself that you were happy that he was happy.

Unlike Connie, you didn't make any close friends during your four years of college. You had one friend named Mikasa and that was because she was your stand partner in orchestra, but outside of practice, you two never talked and if you did, it was only about what time practice was.

You put your phone on the charger and placed the flyer on the nightstand next to you, heading off to bed.

*

The next day you found out you didn't have practice and a part of you was happy that you could have a break. You decided to head back to your dorm and take a nap. It was rare for you to go a day without practicing, but you deserved it. You've practiced so much that your shoulders hurt more than usual. You would always forget to do stretches before and after practicing and would have to suffer the consequences because of that. As you drifted off to sleep you thought about Connie and wondered what he was doing right now.

*

"You guys excited for the night?!" Connie said wrapping his arms around Jean and Sasha's shoulders.

"Yep!" Sasha exclaimed, "Also after our performance can we go out to eat? I was thinking about that steak house down the street."

"Do you wanna go there because you've been crushing on that waiter?" Jean teased.

"What's his name?" Connie scratched his head and then smirked, "Niccolo?"

Sasha elbowed Connie in the side and walked off, " That's not true, I just liked the food there." Sasha crossed her arms while staring at the pavement trying to hide her embarrassment. "

"Mhmm, whatever you say." Jean remarked.

"Oh guys I invited someone." Connie spoke up.

"OOO who??" Sasha said.

"Her name's Y/n, she's a childhood friend." Connie rubbed the top of his head. "I want you guys to meet her."

"Oh she must be really special," Jean teased Connie.

"Yeah she is actually."

"Well I cant wait to meet her." Sasha said while throwing her arm around Connie's shoulders. Ever since Connie saw you yesterday, he couldn't get you out of his head. Connie used to have crush on you from middle school all the way to high school, but it left as you two grew apart. But those feeling returned when he saw you playing.

He didn't say anything that day when he entered the building and saw you practicing. He just stared in awe as you engrossed yourself in the music. Although you music was placed in front of you, your eyes were closed. It made him think how hard you have been working that you didn't even need to look at the music. He hoped you come tonight because he really missed you, and wanted to start over with you and possible relationship.

*

When you woke up , you saw that it was 9:00 pm. Your eyes then traveled to the flyer next to your clock. Connie's performance started in an hour. "I guess I could go." You said to yourself as you got ready.

You threw on a sweatshirt and jeans and fixed your hair before grabbing your purse.

Connie's band was performing at a small place called, The Corps Club.

When you entered the club, there were a lot of people, but it was pretty calm. Everyone was genuinely having a good time and you cursed yourself for not bringing Mikasa with you. You felt awkward as you sat at the bar fiddling with your purse, hoping to see Connie.

"Can I get you something?" A bartender said while cleaning a cup.

"Just a lemonade please, thank you." You were so focused on watching the bartender pour your drink you didn't even notice the presence beside you.

"Y/N Hey!" It was Connie. You took in his appearance and noticed he had on black eyeliner and wore a gray shirt that no sleeves along, a sliver necklace around his neck, and a chain that hooked to his pants. "I wasn't expecting you to come." He leaned on the table, "Hey Levi I'll pay for it."

"Oh no Connie that's okay." You protested but the man already took the money. "Thank you." You said softly while taking a sip of your drink.

"Thanks for coming y/n, I really appreciate it."

"Of course."

Connie then grabbed your arm and pulled you through the crowds of people. "I want you to meet my friends." He shouted and lead you through a door. "Guys I want you to meet y/n."

You seen them before, but it was different seeing them in person. "Y/N this is Sasha and Jean."

"It's so nice to meet you!" Sasha said and then pulled you into a hug. "Any special friend of Connie's is ours too. You want some chips?"

"No thanks," You said, your face heating up slightly at the thought of Connie talking about you to his friends.

"I'm Jean." He said as he held out his hand. You didn't imagine him to be so tall you thought as you shook his hand. "Connie you didn't tell us your friend was hot." Your eyes widened at his words.

"Jean please shut up you're making her uncomfortable." Connie said while hitting the back of his head.

"Anyways y/n, we're performing a song called There's a Hole in My Stomach. It's about a guy and girl who are twin flames, but the girl gets shot in her stomach and the boy basically loses another piece of himself." Your mouth opens slightly at the sad, but oddly specific, story behind the song. "I know right depressing, but it was Connie's idea." Sasha continued.

"We have five minutes 'till we perform...Y/N I'll show you a good spot to watch us." Connie said while grabbing your arm. He led you to the front row, "This seems like a good spot." He then pulled you into a hug and you felt your heart beat quicken. "Thank you y/n," he whispered into your ear. He pulled away and ran off, leaving you stunned.

You were blown away how good Connie's band was. Although the topic of their song was depressing, they played as if it wasn't. The three complemented each other so well. Sasha's voice was also beautiful and powerful. Jean played the guitar with a smirk plastered on his face as he rocked his head back and forth (let me stop before i turn this into a jean fic).

You then looked over to Connie and saw how intense he was as he hit the drums. It was like he was different person. You seen him play the drums before in high school, but that was nothing compared to now. His muscles flexed as he drummed. You thought he looked sexy, especially with the sweat gliding down his face and his eye liner starting to smudge. As if he heard your thoughts, Connie made eye contact with you and winked and quickly looked away.

After the performance you met up with the three and congratulated them. "You guys did amazing and Sasha your voice is so beautiful."

"Thank you." She said while wiping the sweat off her forehead. They all were sweating and you saw how Connie's eyeliner was now smeared across his eyes. "Are you coming with us to eat?"

"Oh no, it's late, I need to get back to my dorm."

'Are you sure Y/N?" Connie said while patting his neck with a towel.

"Yeah..Thank you."

"Well let me walk you back since it's late." He said while throwing his towel on the couch.

"Bye y/n!" Jean and Sasha said as you and Connie headed out.

The walk back to your dorm was silent until Connie said, "Thank you for coming. I'm so happy to see you again."

You smiled, "Of course Connie."

"It's been a long time since we seen each other." You hummed in agreement. "I missed you so much y/n" Connie stopped walking and stared into your eyes.

"I missed you too." There was tension between you two and you didn't know why, but you continued walking anyway.

You two were now in front of your dorm's door. "Thank you for inviting me Connie. Good night." As you were going to open your door Connie then said, "Y/n wait." You turned around in confusion.

"I want to start over."

"What?"

"I really missed you. Like a lot." You nodded your head, confused to where he was going with this. "Fuck it." He then pulled you by your waist and pressed his lips against yours. Your eyes widened at his sudden actions. You knew you should've pulled away but you couldn't.

You two were now in your dorm and you made out with each other as you straddled his waist at the edge of your bed. His tongue explored your mouth as he rubbed and squeezed your thighs.

Wanting more friction, you decided to rock against him and he groaned in your mouth. "Keep doing that." He said against your lips as he slid his hands under your sweatshirt to unstrap your bra. You were still in shock that you were making out with your old best friend, but that thought left when you felt his big hands cup your breasts and his thumbs circle your nipples.

He pinched and twisted your nipples as his mouth traveled from your cheek to your neck to suck on the skin.

You ran your hands through his hair and noticed that it was longer than last time you remembered. You giggled as a memory of you calling Connie a bald penguin popped up in your mind.

He then took your sweatshirt off and stared at your breast and then he squeezed your hips, urging you to keep grinding on him. "Stop staring."You whispered in embarrassment. He then attached his mouth to your nipple and you gasped at the wet feeling. His hands traveled your body up and down, his hands rubbing your curves and then cupping your ass as you continued rocking against him.

Your panties were wet and you wanted nothing more than for him to touch you where you most needed it. He didn't notice you unbuttoned your pants until you grabbed his hand and slid it down to cupped you down there. He felt how warm and wet you were and began caressing you gently through your underwear.

He then pulled your panties to the side and rubbed a finger up and down your folds before placing his middle finger inside of you. You hid your face in his neck as you rocked against him while he placed another finger inside of you. He rubbed his other hand up and down your back to ease you. "You're so beautiful," he said softly before placing a third finger inside of you.

"Connie" You moaned his name and that's when he lost it. He pulled his fingers out of you and laid you on your back. He shoved your pants and underwear down while he peppered kisses on your neck. You kicked the remaining clothing off your legs and pulled his shirt off while you wrapped your legs around his waist.

You two were now fully naked as Connie teased your folds with his penis. You bit your lip in anticipation. "Connie pl-" before you could finish he pushed himself inside of you and you clawed at his back as he stretched you out. He moved slowly first and you watched as his chain dangled in front of your face. You took that opportunity to grabbed him by his chain and pull him into a kiss.

He started to pick up his pace and you had to hold onto his shoulders for support. "So fucking tight." He said as he watched how you took him so well. When he felt you loosen up, he took the opportunity to lift your legs over his shoulder and pound into you. This new angle had you gasping for air as his hips snap against the back of your thighs.

His hand was gripping the headboard to go faster and his other hand also had a death hold grip on your waist, you knew there will be a bruise there tomorrow but you didn't mind. The more you said his name, the faster he would go.

He slowed down a bit when he felt your walls clench around him. You were close and he had to control himself because he wanted to make you cum first before him.

Your eyes rolled to the back of your head as you came intensely and then a few moments later, Connie also came.

Connie then pulled out and collapsed on top of your body, then proceeded to give you small kisses between your breast. You both were breathing hard and you felt a small smile slowly form on your face. "I know this wasn't the proper way to build our relationship back up." He said against your skin. "Let me make it up to you and take you out tomorrow." He looked up at you through his long eyelashes.

You smiled and brought his head up to kiss him again, "I would love that."

*

*

*

Follow me on Instagram @//jungjaehoe127

[that-millennial-chick]

Dark Skies

The Signs’ Face Claims

I had this idea for a while: Personification of the signs. I always wanted to write a story that presents the signs as people, with the same features and personalities that the signs are said to have, living their lives, interacting with each other. Here are a few ideas for each character, if I get to the actual story, the characters will develop a lot of course. Please inbox me your feedback, if you would be interested in a story as such. 

Here’s an idea for the face claims. (the actors’ actual sun signs don’t have anything to do with their roles):

Henry Cavill as Aries, the impulsive soldier.Strong-minded and brave, but a hot-head, which makes him dangerous in a fight. He often throws caution to the wind and goes straight to the point, which he may regret later. He lives for today, is initiative and ambitious, lacks certain gentleness, humility and sense of social act, hurts people without even intending to. He’s restless, vital and always looks for new challenges and adventures. Deep-set eyes and dark eyebrows give him the severe, serious but handsome look. He’s not into love, but does like sex. He rarely gets attached to people, only lives for war and winning battles.

Zoë Kravitz as Taurus, the confident, self-sufficient, but sensitive girl. You can rely on her, she’s honest and respects good manners. Patient and cautious, she knows what she wants and won’t let anyone stop her. She keeps her feet firmly on the ground, doesn’t like to dream or wish, she strongly believes that if you want something enough, you have to go and get it. She’s practical and responsible, but easier to break than she’ll ever show. She loves strongly, and passionately, has a big, loving heart, but knows when to let go, she doesn’t put herself down for anyone. Her doe-like, big, brown eyes will make you trust her with your life. She is exactly who a woman should be, if you could say that, confident, strong, independent and intelligent.

Tom Hiddleston as Gemini, the sweet and funny, blonde, curly-haired sunny-boy. He can seamlessly change everything, from style, ideas to work or partner. He is easy to adjust to significant changes. Surrounded by a little nervous energy, he is brilliant but sometimes emotionally unstable. Being bisexual, he likes to sleep around with different people, but doesn’t really mean to intentionally hurt anyone, he just expects other people to take life and relationships as easily as he does. He’s humorous, energetic and cheerful, but doesn’t let anyone see his sensitive side, that’s why his mysterious way seems very attractive. 

Andrew Garfield as Cancer, the typical sweet boy, who likes to play with fire and often gets burned. He can go from being in a great mood to suicidal thoughts in a second. His heart is easy to break and he doesn’t know how to get over it. Trying to bring an order to his chaotic feelings, he starts writing. For himself at first, but that’s how his talent as a writer gets discovered. It helps at first, but his vulnerable nature wants him to take revenge on those who hurt him, which starts to destroy him slowly. 

Madelaine Petsch as Leo, the Queen Bee in Louboutins. She likes expensive clothes, always looks flawless and knows it. She appears even more confident than she actually is. As a struggling actress, her life hasn’t been the easiest. Trusting and a little naive, she’s often been used and lied to. She likes to manipulate people, but sometimes ends up being manipulated herself. Trying hard to hide her generous, forgiving heart, she thinks that the key to success is heartlessness and diamonds. Her brutally honest personality gave her the name of a “bitch”, which she enjoys at times, it gives her a painful kind of satisfaction to be hated, but admired at the same time. Her long, red hair perfectly matches her ever-red lips and green eyes, that roll so often. She enjoys her naturally good looks and knows how to use it for her best. 

Jamie Chung as Virgo, the beautiful healer. She’s a doctor, she lives for helping people. But the sad truth is, she doesn’t always know how to help herself. Being a gorgeous, strong woman, she is full of insecurities, no one can understand. She is ready to sacrifice herself for others, even people she doesn’t know, because her own life doesn’t mean anything to her. Attentive, with great analytical skills, she seems to see everyone's personality through, she sees when somebody’s hurting, when somebody's lying, her eyes don’t miss out on anything. She loves to bring order into the chaotic life, and tries to make the world a better place by being considerate and organized. Being wealthy, she doesn’t like expensive and unnecessary luxuries. Taurus is her soulmate, but unfortunately, there are many struggles that come in their way. Their love is beautiful and innocent, but leaves them both heartbroken, more than once. 

Shay Mitchell as Libra, the girl next door. She has always been a girl who went by unnoticed. A wallflower kind of girl as they say. She never minds, she doesn’t like to show off, doens’t like to shine. Simple clothes and sneakers, ponytail and barely any make-up, that is her every day look. She has a soft personality and knows how to handle troubles, a diplomat, religious, fair, justice has always been important to her. People usually think that she is a depressed teenager, but that isn’t true, life is going as she wishes it to go. She doesn’t like to be pushed, pressured, she prefers to leave responsibility to others. Sometimes, she feels a little basic, that’s all. But the girl will find her place in this world very soon. 

Michael Ealy as Scorpio, the blue-eyed devil. Despite what people said, he isn’t all that bad. The often call him “the evil eye”, if your eyes meet, you always move first. He can kill you with a look, undress you with a look, send you to hell with only one look. He’s never easy, everything is important to him and he takes everything seriously. All around him is black or white, nothing in between. The only people he can call friends seem more like loyal servants. It feels like he never tells the truth, he’s mysterious to a fault and will never tell you his opinion about anything. Don’t do him wrong, he will never let you leave with it. He scars a lot of people. Not always intentionally, just by being himself. 

Will Smith as Sagittarius, the short-tempered cop. He’s charismatic and respectful, a real fighter for justice. Straightforward, he will shoot arrows, he can’t leave anything unspoken. If you’re in the wrong, he’ll make you crack. He does have strong relationships with people, but only the ones who deserve it in his opinion. Quite tolerant, he will accept a lot of your flaws, but never cross a line, he can cut you out of his life in a second. He’s living on the edge, taking risks, jumps into danger, whether it’s about work or love. Being short-tempered, he gets angry fast, screams, even gets physical, but calms down fast and often regrets it. He does have a good soul, but not many get to see it. Mostly, all they see is a man fighting for the good in any possible ways.

Keanu Reeves as Capricorn, the lone wolf. He never really needed anyone. He was fine being alone. Growing up in an orphanage, he was used to it. Not knowing love, no one to care about. But still, he got through, fought for his degree, became a teacher, not even knowing what for. He doesn't really fall in love, he doesn't really get attached, he doesn't really need it. His good looks and seemingly cool nature attracts a lot of people, he’s interesting, mysterious behind closed doors. But no one really knows him, not even himself. At times, it feels like he's ready, to be a part of the world, to take care of people, but he struggles to believe that anyone would put up with him. He always was so ambitious, so determined, but he came to a point where nothing makes sense anymore. That's the moment he meets him. Better said, he reads his book. A book about retaliation.

Margot Robbie as Aquarius, the sharp-tongued beauty. She grew through struggles and insecurities, which turned her into this perfect human being. She was abused, betrayed and had to fight to survive, just to become a brilliant thief. She’s a woman who gets what she wants, with her intelligence and incredible looks. She considers herself a visionary, she has her ambitions and desires, she’s close to the spiritual world and has a great imagination. Overly dramatic at times, she knows her worth, and knows others better than they know themselves. People bore her quite easily, she expects mystery and entertainment from others. Sexually passionate, she suffers from lack of permanent feelings. Her life has to be a never-ending adventure. 

Jared Leto as Pisces, the lost soul. He'a a musician, struggling with drugs and alcohol abuse. His curious and creative mind can't manage between his will to get inspiration and his addictions. He always needs more, whether it's whiskey, love or music, he can never stop. At times, it feels like he's at the end, that he can't do it anymore, but only one shot, and he's back, writing, singing, playing guitar. He falls in love with creative souls like himself, struggling, even dying. For him, it's always over. Every day, can be his last and all he does is singing, dreaming, he always took the path of least resistance.

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Love is a Bundle of Contradictions.

This artwork was a piece I commissioned from @shimmeryspark​!

... There is no explanation for this other than my friends encouraged me to write Valentine’s Day Raven and Jade fluff, since the main saga is a bit lot of angst right now. (Special thanks to @twstpasta since they let me borrow their twstsona for plot reasons :9)

Imagine this...

“You WHAT?!”

“Ehehe~ Sorry...!! I guess I went and made a bad decision, heehoo~” Mac stuck out their tongue and lightly bonked their own head with a fist. “Silly me~”

“Making a deal with Azul is the very definition of a bad decision,” Raven groaned, slapping a hand to her face. “I... I cannot believe you. Dare I ask what the conditions were?”

“I gave him my taste buds! He said he’ll give them back if you help out with stocking up on supplies for the Mostro Lounge.”

“That’s... suspiciously simple. And you really just handed over your taste buds just like that? You can’t taste your beloved cheese anymore.”

“I know!” Mac pouted. “It’s so sad, so you’ll help this rataroni out, right?”

“I find it odd that Azul is demanding my assistance, seeing as how I am not the one that made the deal with him to begin with. However... I cannot turn my back on a friend in need. I will lend you a helping wing—er, hand.”

“Sweet, sweet!!” Mac clasped Raven’s hands happily. “Just remember to show up this Sunday afternoon. Meet up’s in the town square. Oh, and be sure to wear something cute!”

“Something cute? Why would...”

“It’s part of the deal—so you just gotta, okay? That’s what Azul said!” Mac paused, before adding, “Oh, oh! And bring some homemade choco in a heart-shaped box!! That’s another contract condition!”

“Oh... O-Okay...?”

Raven leaned back against a lamp post, anxiously winding a finger around the string of small pearls at her collarbone. In her other hand was a bag, and in that bag, a heart-shaped box of homemade chocolates—just as Mac had told her.

A silver heart-shaped charm dangled from the necklace, lying still against her real hammering heart. Rarely did she venture out into the local town—and, standing there by her lonesome, the raven felt out of place and awkward.

An addendum to a story that had already been penned.

She watched as her silver charm caught a wink of sun and guided the light down its curve. Reflected back in the charm’s surface was the raven herself.

Today, her inky hair was cast up in a high pigtail and secured with a cobalt ribbon. She had traded her usual outfit for a pale blouse with billowy puff sleeves, white stockings, and a high waist skirt in a plaid pattern—cobalt, like her ribbons.

I hope this satisfies the conditions of the deal.

Raven checked the time on her phone; any minute now, Azul would be showing up, and they’d get this over with. Then she could return to her attic to roost, and Mac could return to feasting on cheese and inhaling poison—

“Oya. Do my eyes deceive me, or is that you, Miss Raven?” a silken cadence called out to her, rising above the hustle and bustle of the town.

“... You,” she responded flatly, narrowing her eyes at a certain eel as he parted from a crowd.

Ah.

Jade, too, had abandoned his typical uniform in favor of casual comfort. He wore a pair of dress pants and a grey turtleneck—and over it was a brown trench coat, unbuttoned to show off how snugly that sweater fit against his lean, muscular body.

Raven squinted. His earring was slightly different today as well. Rather than three diamond shaped sturgeon scales dangling from his ear, there were heart shaped ones. Blue and glassy, like the calm sea after a storm.

His hands were polite folded behind his back... hiding something. Whatever that something was, petals of pink, red, and yellow-orange were poking out.

If she didn’t know any better, she would have said he looked handsome—and innocent—enough. But she did know better.

“What are you doing here?” Raven demanded, no longer playing with her necklace. Her hands went to her sides, curling into balls.

“Fufufu. The town is a public space. I am free to come and go as I please, the very same as you.” Jade tilted his head to one side. “Although today, I am here on an errand. The Mostro Lounge is short on centerpiece supplies, you see. I have been sent to restock.”

“What a coincidence. I’m also here to help the Mostro Lounge restock,” Raven said, a bit of bitterness slipping into her voice, “as per a contract.”

Jade attempted to appear sympathetic—but he allowed a cruel chuckle to escape him. “I see now. I was not aware that you were the one indebted to Octavinelle, Miss Raven. Had I known sooner, I would not have hesitated to summon you to fill in for Kon-san’s morning shift.”

“I’m not a waitress for you to order around.” Raven jutted out her chin defiantly. “I’m here strictly on business, so if you would kindly leave me be...!!”

“I believe you said you had to assist the Mostro Lounge. Would it not be prudent, then, to go about tending to that duty rather than standing about and looking like a lost lamb?”

“Sh-Shut up! It’s not my fault that Azul is running late...!!”

“You were waiting for Azul?” Jade said, his brows pinching together briefly. “You are terribly mistaken. It is not Azul who is assisting you with the restock, but myself.”

“... Beg pardon?”

Wear something cute, bring homemade chocolates, Mac had said. And it has to be you, Raven, not me! But why? Slowly, slowly... The pieces of the puzzle fell into place.

A thought dawned on Raven:

I’ve definitely been tricked.

“Well!! That’s all fine and dandy, but I think I shall be on my way home now. I really must be having a chat with a friend of mine,” she babbled, turning on her heel. They’re going to be buried in tomato sauce when I get to them.

“How cruel of you to abandon those in need, Miss Raven. And to think that Mac-san shall be without their taste buds... and I, burdened with the task of restocking by my lonesome. What a tragic way to spend Valentine’s Day,” Jade exhaled deeply and wiped at an imaginary tear. “Shikushikushiku...”

Raven’s left eye twitched. “Don’t you paint me as the bad guy here...!!”

“Aren’t you?” Jade challenged, a smile still plastered on his face despite his mocking tone.

“Grrr...!!” She whipped around, thrusting an index finger at him. “Listen here... Leech!! The only reason I am even here was to help someone out of a contract your shady boss roped them into!”

“If you are as selfless and loving as you claim to be, then you should have no issues with shopping with me,” Jade countered smoothly. “After all, they say that actions speak louder than words.”

The little bird vibrated with irritation, her cheeks puffed out in a pout. Her stomach coiled tight, uneasiness brewing. As much as she hated to admit to it, he was right.

Raven clenched her teeth and sent a glare his way. “Fine...!! But I will be keeping an eye on you to ensure that there is no funny business!”

“Then by all means, ‘keep an eye on me’, and do not let your gaze stray for even a single moment,” Jade chuckled, somehow sneering through his smile. “I welcome it.”

The eel held out a hand to Raven. “We’d best not be separated while on our errand.”

She stared hesitantly. Her eyes flickered between his eyes and the hand he offered. Subtle changes in her expression occurred in rapid succession—the raising of her lids, the tremble to her lower lip, the tinge to her cheeks.

“... Yeah. We’d best not,” Raven finally agreed, her grip on her bag—the bag containing her chocolates—tightened. “Which is precisely why I will follow you at a safe distance.”

“Ah, but that would ruin the surprise.”

“What, the bouquet? You’re not exactly doing a masterful job of hiding it.”

“Nor are you doing well to hide your little surprise, Miss Raven.”

“I was deceived. This chocolate is not meant for you.”

“I didn’t say that it was, now did I?”

“... I’m going to eat them myself, then. That’ll show you!”

“Do with it what you wish, for selfish purposes or not,” Jade laughed, revealing his bouquet—all the colors of the setting sun. “These flowers, on the other hand, are meant to be gifted...”

He pushed the bouquet toward Raven. Up close, the flowers seemed even more vibrant and beautiful. Their warm hues enveloping the raven, enchanting her senses. Mesmerized, she reached out to accept the flowers—when Jade suddenly clicked his tongue and pulled them away.

“But alas—not to you,” he teased, pressing a finger to his lips. “Do try to keep up with me now, Miss Raven.”

Jade turned and dove into a sea of townspeople, leaving a trail of sunset-colored petals in his wake. And, like the fool that she was, a fuming raven stormed after him—chocolates still in hand. Heart quivering.

Terrariums—the flowers were meant for terrariums all along.

Jade had taken his sweet time leading her down a winding path and to an art supply store tucked away in a corner, and even longer to observe the shape and feel of each terrarium container. Spherical, cuboidal, prismatic... Holding up the bouquet every so often to compare how the flowers would look in each.

In the end, he had gone wild with his purchases, electing to buy a selection of shapes, along with other supplies—just to keep himself amused. Jade had paid with a platinum card embossed with Octavinelle’s logo. Mostro Lounge Master Cash Card, it read. Azul’s property; do not steal! Sign the loaning form if you must borrow.

It was all for the terrariums, for business as usual.

I should have realized sooner. Stupid, stupid, Raven scolded herself.

She grunted, struggling to carry the bagful of terrarium supplies that Jade had saddled her with, while he carried one of his own without any trouble. The eel cast her a mocking glance over his shoulder.

“Are you in need of a break, Miss Raven?”

Bite me, she wanted to snap back—but a bark of pain shot up her arms, silencing her defiance. “... M-Maybe.”

He sighed in an exaggerated fashion. “Very well. I see a café up ahead. We can rest there for a few moments, though it may require the purchase of a food item if we wish for a table.”

“Sounds peachy.”

Together, they swept through the café doors. The duo was immediately greeted by the smell of sugar and the hum of the other patrons, many of them couples.

Raven stiffened at the sight, turning a deep shade of red. Suddenly, she was very, very aware of how she—and Jade—looked.

“I think I changed my mi—“ Raven was cut off when he grasped her hand and held fast. She jolted back, her skin turning clammy. “Eeep! Wh-What are you...”

“Table for two,” Jade requested of an employee. “We do not intend to stay for a large meal, so just an ice-cream parfait will do.”

“Certainly, sir. Right this way.” The server quickly seated them, and with a bow, departed to retrieve their order.

“... You can let go of my hand now,” Raven hissed, attempting to free herself. To no avail, initially. She tugged again, and finally broke free, aggressively rubbing at her hand to ward off the residual eel cooties.

Jade chuckled, tucking his strand of black hair behind his ear. His earring glimmered in the afternoon sunlight pouring in through wide windows. “Play along. You are aware that today is Valentine’s Day, yes?”

“Yes, but I do not understand what that has to do with... physical contact, especially seeing as how we are not engaged in that kind of a relationship.”

“It is simple.” He laced his fingers together, resting his chin on them. With the most serene of smiles, Jade purred, “We should take advantage of the couple discounts being offered at eateries such as this. An excellent way to save on spending, especially after that particularly large purchase made on the Mostro Lounge’s coin.”

“You’re a shrewd one.”

“Why, thank you.”

Raven’s hands curled in her lap. Her lips pursed, she found her gaze trained on the white lace of the tablecloth, rather than on her dining companion.

Time and time again, she has been tricked today, told white lies. Teased and deceived. It was simply how he was—and though it did irk her in some ways, it also never made a moment dull.

Hot and cold. Push and pull. Bitter and sweet. That was Jade Leech.

“Your parfait is here!!” The server from before popped up in her periphery, startling the raven from her thoughts. They set it down and stepped back. “Here you are—enjoy your date!”

“Thank you. We certainly will,” Jade reacted before Raven could and dismissed the server with a wave. “... Well, let’s dig in.”

“You didn’t correct them.”

“We won’t get the discount if they don’t believe this farce,” he replied calmly, nudging the parfait and a spoon toward her. “Now then, less talking and more eating. You need your strength if you plan on helping me haul all the supplies back to campus.”

She let out a huff, but dug her spoon into a frozen mound. The parfait was massive, composed of several scoops of pink, blue, and green ice-cream, flanked by chocolate wafer bars. With a smattering of sprinkles, a crown of whipped cream, and a maraschino cherry on top, the dessert looked absolutely picture perfect.

Raven steadily brought a spoonful of pink goop into her mouth, allowing a sweet bubblegum flavor to spread across her tongue. Her eyes cut to Jade, who had not bothered to sample any for himself. He smiled back, gaze half-lidded as if recalling a fond memory.

“Have some, too. I feel weird eating it alone—and you must be hungry too. I know how big your appetite is.” Raven pushed the parfait glass toward him.

“If you insist.”

The head of his spoon sunk into a green scoop with shards of chocolate chip weaved throughout. It pulled away cleanly with a large mound, which was soon consumed. Then another bite, and a third, a fourth... Before Raven knew it, a good third of the parfait was missing.

Jade patted his mouth with a napkin, eyeing her expectantly.

“Are you still hungry?” Raven asked, eyebrows raising. She retrieved a scoop of blue this time—vaguely flavored like a medley of fruits.

“Perhaps... though I do not plan on taking more of the parfait for myself. Were I to, there would be none left for you.”

The fruit seemed to sour in her mouth. It was true that she was hungry, yes—but at the same time, she did not wish for Jade to be left dissatisfied.

She frowned, setting her spoon down and reaching into her bag. Seconds later, she produced a heart-shaped package and shoved it at him.

“Here, chocolates. They’re yours now, since I have no other use for them,” Raven mumbled insistently. “You can eat them now, or save them for later. Just hurry up and take them before I change my mind.”

“Oya, it is rather bold to profess your undying love to me in such a public space.” Jade teased, chuckling lightly into his hand.

“B-Be quiet...!! We... We can’t get that couple’s discount if one of us passes out from hunger.”

“Fufufu. I doubt that either of us would.” His mismatched eyes twinkled with mirth. “... Thank you for the sweets, Miss Raven. I will be certain to savor every last bite.”

The town became even busier in the late afternoon, filing with the sound of street performers and spectators. A monkey in a vest and a small hat barreled by Raven’s feet as she and Jade exited the café, nearly causing her to double over. A chorus of children’s laughter chased after the monkey—and she, the raven, stumbled on her recovery.

“Perhaps now would be a good time to reconsider my offer,” Jade suggested, a hand on the small of her back to support her. That same hand trailed around and tickled the back of hers. “It would be a shame if we lost one another in this crowd.”

Raven regarded him with a pointed look, but slipped her hand into his without further resistance. “... Only because I have to.”

“Of course, of course.”

Together, they braved the bustling streets.

A new world unfolded before Raven’s very eyes. Costumed performers of all kinds paraded about, garnering attention from passerbys. Some tossed confetti and candies, others brandished instruments. Brass, strings, percussion—all their notes floated up into the festive atmosphere.

There went a dancer, leaping like a lithe deer, limbs outstretched and the flowy fabric of their uniform like a curtain of smoke. And here was an artist perched on a stool, sketching the outline of a woman posed on a wooden crate. A young man jingled a tambourine, trying to catch coins in his cap.

A number of food carts patrolled the roads, calling out their wares. Crepes, sandwiches, sodas... Families, friends, and couples lining benches, exchanging bites.

Love was truly in the air and oozing out of every pore of the community.

Raven couldn’t keep her head still. She turned this way and that, trying to soak up every last sight and sound. Her golden eyes sparkled with wonder.

Jade, of course, took note. “Excited, are you?”

“It’s very different than Night Raven College,” she replied shyly. “Almost like a magic kingdom.”

“Magic kingdom? You can be rather melodramatic at times.”

“Yeah? So can you and Azul and Floyd, with all your fake tears...” Her wandering eyes caught something bright red as she spoke. “Oh...!! Look.”

Raven tugged on Jade’s hand, urging him to a halt. Her gaze was transfixed on a lamp post with a multitude of red strings. At the other ends of those ribbons were heart-shaped balloons, as red as blood.

His eyebrows pinched together in mocking sympathy. “You truly are fascinated by the simplest things. Is it true what they say? That ravens are attracted to shiny objects?”

Her mouth flew open to protest, but she was interrupted by a woman by the balloon-bearing lamp post “You there!! Sir with the earring and ma’am with the blue ribbon! Care for some balloons?”

“Er... What are they for?” Raven asked.

“For love, of course,” the woman laughed. “Today’s all about appreciating one another, right? This is my way of spreading love.”

She separated three balloons from her bundle and offered them with a flourish. Raven eagerly accepted them, staring up in wonder at their floating bodies.

“Oh, and one more thing!!” The woman produced a red ribbon from her jacket pocket and nodded at the duo. “Your pinkie fingers, please!”

Raven held out her hand as directed, letting the woman secure the ribbon in a neat little knot. The balloon bearer extended the length of the ribbon, glancing to Jade. Raven, too, looked at him expectantly. Jade expelled a quiet sigh and allowed the red ribbon to be tied to his pinkie.

“There you go!” the woman declared triumphantly. “You’re all set now! Enjoy the rest of your Valentine’s Day, folks!”

“Thank you!” Raven shouted over her shoulder—even as Jade started to lead her away. The woman waved and waved until she was out of sight.

“... It has been a while since I have seen you this enthusiastic,” Jade remarked with a glance to the balloons. “I do suppose it is a departure from the monotony of daily life, but to think that such little things bring this amount of joy...”

“It reminds me of a story a little birdie once told me,” Raven chirped with a small giggle. “The story of the Red Thread of Fate.”

“Oh?” Jade raised an eyebrow. “Do tell.”

“The Red Thread of Fate is said to connect ‘destined people’. It can tangle, twist, or stretch, but it can never break. From the moment you are born, you have an unseen thread flowing from your pinkie finger, tying your fate to that of the person on the other end,” Raven recited, her tone turning solemn—her storytelling voice.

“Someday,” she said, “you will cross paths with the one that shares your thread, and your lives will be forever changed by the encounter. It could be a meaningful battle between rivals, the loss of a loved one, the promise of marriage... but the course of their stories will never again be the same.”

“How sentimental. And what, pray tell, does this red thread of ours mean, Miss Raven?” Jade questioned, lifting his end of the ribbon—the crimson shining in the sunlight.

“How would I know? I’m not a god,” she huffed. “It’s just fun to imagine the possibilities.”

“It is, indeed. Even so, surely there must be one favored conclusion to the story of the Red Thread of Fate in that pretty little head of yours.” He brought a hand to his mouth, yanking Raven toward him.

She glanced up with a glare. “I’d have to have a bird brain to tell you that.”

“Is that not the duty of a storyteller? To stand on stage and tell the tale until the curtain closes. Your adoring audience awaits.”

“You’re being booted from the metaphorical theater before you get to hear or see the ending.”

“I would like to see you try.”

Jade slowed to a stop, Raven following suit. They were back in the town square, by the lamp post where they had met up. Ending where it had all begun.

He pulled out his phone and consulted the time. Jade unlocked his device, quickly wrote up a message, and tucked it away again. “I can take it from here.”

“Are you sure?”

“Absolutely. Besides,” Jade cast a pitiful look at Raven’s trembling arms, “I doubt you would be able to haul those supplies the remainder of the way, and certainly not in an efficient manner.”

“... Then what was the point of stating in the contract that you needed a helping hand?”

“I am afraid that even I am not entirely privy as to Azul’s intentions,” he chuckled, gently prying a bag from her hands. “I will be certain to let Azul know that Mac-san’s end of the contract has been fulfilled.”

“Eh...? But—“

“You have our thanks for lending the Mostro Lounge your time. You are free to go now, Miss Raven. I’ve already summoned Floyd in your stead to assist me.”

“Th-The ribbon, you fool! I can’t leave if I’m still bound to you!”

“Oh? You don’t say.” His singsong held no concern whatsoever, only amusement.

“S-Stop playing dumb! You know very well what you are doing!!”

“You said it yourself, Miss Raven. Our lives have been forever changed since our encounter. There is no going back now.”

“Stop manipulating the narrative to suit your needs.”

“I haven’t the faintest clue what you mean. Jade smiled, feigning innocence. “You’ve resigned yourself to spending the rest of the day with me—at least until Floyd arrives to relieve you of your burden. Ah, but given his moodiness, who knows when that will be.”

“Just because your surname is Leech doesn’t mean you need to suck the life out of me like one,” Raven snapped. She reached for the red ribbon, intending to undo it—

—only to be met with a bouquet a second time. Flowers the color of the sunset, smelling like the drip of sunshine and a cut of meadow.

“For you—no strings attached this time.”

“Those are for the terrarium centerpieces.”

“I can easily replace them,” Jade insisted, “and I must repay you for your kind chocolate gift. Consider this... ‘favors for favors’, so that neither one of us is left indebted to the other.”

“... Alright. I’ll take them, but only because they might be useful for brewing some new inks.”

“I’m glad to see that you are being agreeable.” Jade slipped the flowers to her. “Take good care of them.”

Raven leaned against a lamp post, cradling the large bouquet in one arm. Her heart fluttered, and her limbs felt as light as air. Warm and floaty, like the balloons in her hand. 

Favors for favors—but it still counted as a gift from Jade, and that very thought sent her mind spiraling. She took a shaky breath, and focused on the confetti and laughter in the distance, the song and dance of the street performers.

Waiting and waiting for Floyd.

“Miss Raven.”

“What now? Haven’t you bullied me enough for today? Are you still not satisfied, you sadist?”

She dared to lift her eyes to meet Jade’s—and her heart stood still, for he looked back. His sharp eyes soft and shrouded by long lashes, his lips pulled into a tender smile.

“Contract or no, I always enjoy my time with you—I enjoyed today,” Jade murmured. “I hope that we are able to do this again sometime.”

“... Shut up. J-Just shut up already, i-it’s embarrassing listening to you speak...!!” She buried her head in the flowers, concealing her pink face. Still feeling floaty, like a balloon, high on happiness.

“Fufufu. Happy Valentine’s Day, Miss Raven.”

[calumxkisses]

One Last Dance | c.h.

pairing: calum hood x reader

genre: angst

warnings: death and blood (not too graphic)

summary: servant!calum au x princess!reader.

a/n: hi! i’m still not really good with au imagines, i changed the request a little because i had no idea how to write someone getting beheaded. sorry for beign late and hope you like it!

you should read this imagine while listening to: the night we met

✰ ✰ ✰

“I love you.” He whispers before he closes his eyes for the last time. You see his soul leaving its body and, as much as try to shake it, you know that he’ll never wake up. His face lies on your hands, leaning against what was once the dress of your dreams, once white, now stained in red, the diamonds on the corsage reflect the hell you are experiencing as your lips cry out in pain.

His lifeless body is lying on the floor, getting colder and colder and you can't think of how it was transmitting heat just a few seconds before. The sword that took your happiness away lies next to your lover's body, its owner is now gone but you know where to find them, they rest in the same rooms where you once took refuge from nightmares and sought peace.

Peace. A word that sounds almost funny now, so taken for granted and appreciated now that it's gone.

Peace, that you felt as you were lying on the hill, far away from the castle, with your head on Calum's lap, while your hands intertwined daisies and his mouth told tales of monsters and princesses, princes and weddings.

Peace was what you felt when his hands, calloused by all the hard work done during the day, caressed your face during sleepless nights, in the dark, hidden from prying eyes and from a world that would never accept your love.

Peace was what you felt when his strong arms made you spin between laughter and kisses, in that white and gold room, on that same floor that now sees your smile transformed into pain and your kisses transformed into tears.

The crown falls from your head as you lower your face to caress his face and it makes a shrill noise, like a broken dream, and like never before you hate all those stones and all that iron. So many times you have prayed to be normal, to do a humble job, to wear old and filthy clothes and to be free to be able to look at those eyes in the sunlight, amid the laughter of children and the screams of peasant sellers, while some little girls looks at you and dreams of a love like yours, where nothing matters besides you.

You feel your heart tug, break, get stab, every second is more painful and you know that it'll never stop hurting.

The sun is rising from the window on your right, the mirror reflects the first rays of the sun that struggle to shed light in the darkness of the night.

Soon, someone will walk through the door in front of you, unaware of the love that has been interrupted and of the life that has been sacrificed for an alliance of peoples, for a stupid belief in social classes and gold, land and castles.

They will cross the threshold of that door, mentally repeating the chores to do just to see the princess cry over the body of a humble servant, too young to know things like love but grown up enough to fight for it. They will wonder what happened as they cover their shock with their hands and crouch down next to you, making sure you’re okay and telling you to dry your tears, because the people must not see the darkness that is hidden behind the castle gate.

And while their clothes will try to clean the blood from your hands, you will have to explain how the king, the man they acclaim so much, is unable to love, such a simple thing compared to the thousand daily feats for which he gets celebrated.

You will have to tell them about the way his sword pierced the heart of a young boy, unarmed and full of hope, without hesitation.

You will have to tell about the way he looked you in the eyes and the ice that surrounds his heart, how he did not care for the happiness of his daughter, the same daughter he shows and compliments in front of generals and other kings.

He was not supposed to know, not like this. Your father was supposed to see your love from your eyes and know about it from you, he was supposed to listen to you telling him how much Calum meant to you and to bless your secret marriage, not finding it out from jealous servants and interruping it with a murder because he promised you to someone else.

So you close your eyes and squeeze his body even closer to yours, its scent fills your nostrils and surrounds your body. Your mind starts wandering and you let it go, every place is better than the reality you are living.

He was just a boy! He had his whole life in front of him, he had humble dreams and a passion for life that only children have. He was passionate about what he did, he enjoyed learning new languages ​​while cleaning horses and serving kings of distant lands, he loved playing a small instrument he had found in the garbage but which he treated as the most precious of treasures.

And no matter the time it was outside, he was able to bring sunshine even on the darkest days. He did his work with dedication, never left anything unfinished and helped others whenever needed. How were you supposed to move on?

He knew you loved the stars and had walked miles just to learn facts about astronomy from the best of astronomers so that he always had something new to tell you. He had been taught how to write so that he was able to tell you how much he loved you even when he couldn't speak. He had collected every flower on the lawn of the castle and put them in a small jar for you, so that you could admire their beauty even in winter.

And when the tears ran down your face, he had embroidered a handkerchief on purpose to be able to dry them, because such special tears could not be wasted.

As your mind wanders through the memories of his spontaneous kisses when he passed by by chance, you hear music in the distance.

The piano plays sweet melodies, surrounding the two of you like a warm blanket during a winter day. You stand at the center of the white and gold room, on the ballroom floor. Your white long gown whisks against the ground as he holds a hand in front of him.

He stands before you, looking beautiful as ever. His suit fits him perfectly, his brown eyes drawing you to him.

“My love.” He whispers with a sad smile on his face. There’s no trace of blood in his clothes and his eyes are still sparkling with life inside of them.

“Calum.” His name is the only thing you’re able to say. You know that it’s just a dream and any word won’t express enough what you’re feeling.

You don’t want to close your eyes, the fear of losing him again it's too much to even risk blinking. You can’t leave him again, you just can’t.

“Don’t be scared. You have a whole future ahead of you, love. You’ll reach your goals, make your dreams come true, you’ll have a happy life and I’ll be there, always by your side.”

“But you won’t be really there! We had so many plans for us, like that little house in the countryside and you promised me to teach our future children all the fairy tales you told me. It's not fair.”

You see a tear running down his face, his hand wipes it away but the sadness in his eyes can’t be wiped away that easily. Not anymore, not with a kiss or not with a sky full of stars. He won’t see them anymore, he won’t feel the sun on his skin or the warmth of the fireplace in your secret place, over the hill, to the right of the lake.

“You had a life ahead. We had so many things to do, so many dreams to fulfill, so many lands to explore. I can’t do this without you.”

“You can and you will. You are a bright, intelligent woman. You are capable of doing anything you want. I know we had so many dreams for us, but I'm sure you’ll manage to make them true in your own way. I will always be next to you, you will not see me but I will make sure that nothing else happens to you. You deserve to move forward, to become the woman you are meant to be. I believe in you. Now, come here, please. Let me hold you one last time.”

And you know that you can say whatever you want but any word will make him come back to you.

He takes your hand, holds your waist and pulls you closer. It’s a familiar thing for you, you’d danced this way a thousand times before, in this very room, the enchanting music enveloping your new world, just the two of you.

This time, thought, is different. He was about to fade away forever, you’d have to leave him behind, his smile would never bring joy to your life anymore. It feels like heaven but hurts like hell.

So, as he pulls you into his embrace, spinning you around the room, you try to ignore the tears that are running down your face. You just want to enjoy the warmth of his hugs and his hand on yours for the rest of your life, is that too much to ask?

As the music comes to an end, you feel his hands shaking and the tremor on his voice as he whispers: “It’s time to go.”

“One more song, please.” You whisper, burying your head into his shoulder, tears brimming in your eyes.

So he spins you around more, his hands never letting yours go. There’s not much time left and you know it.

“Do you remember the night we met?” You ask, a smile forming on your lips at the memory.

“I do, we were just children but I remember every detail. You were wearing that small red dress, too caught up on the lanterns flying in the sky to notice that I was looking at you. I explored all the castle and yet you were the most beautiful thing I had ever seen. And when you finally saw me, instead of screaming at me because I wasn’t doing my job, you asked me if I was okay and if I had eaten enough, before telling me the story of the lanterns.”

“I wanted to make sure you were okay before boring you with my words.”

“You could have never bored me. You were the first one to show kindness to me, to treat me like one of yours.”

“Your heart is richer than any king's treasure, Calum.”

As the music fades and the weak flames of the candles in the room flick out, he holds you even closer, not bothering to hold his sobs any longer. The ballroom is getting colder and his body it's not as warm as it was before. He’s starting to feel lifeless again but you don’t want to let him go.

You’ll come back to reality, where love is hated and war is celebrated. You’ll have to pretend to be fine, showing a smile that hides an unimaginable pain. You’ll look into the eyes of your father and the irises that once never failed to reassure you will now be the reason for your cold heart.

Mostly important, you’ll have to live in a reality without Calum in it, without his smile in the morning or his kisses under the moonlight. A reality that was certainly not worth fighting for, not as much as the love you were meant to live.

“I love you too, always.” You whisper, gazing into his beautiful brown eyes, filled with so much sadness that it was almost unbearable. He smiles.

You open your eyes, your body still lays close to his, his eyes are closed and his voice is not asking you one last dance.

There’s a small smile on his face but you’re too distracted by footsteps outside the room to notice it.

[littlefreya]

The Way to Hell - Part 13

Summary: Post Mi6, Alternate Canon. August escaped Ethan Hunt with his face intact and just won himself the title of being the most dangerous man on earth. Brooding as he is, August is unwilling to back down on his murderous agenda he plots to continue where he was stopped.

Series Completed: Previous Chapter | | Chapters Masterlist | Next Chapter

Pairing: August Walker x OFC (Ingvild) 🖤

Word count: 5k

Warnings: Mentions of sexual encounters, child neglect, betrayal, hinted physical abuse,  foul language and lots of angst.   

A/N: I thought chapter 13 will be the last one, but I didn’t want to rush the ending or have a chapter too long. So for those of you still waiting, hang in tight! Many thanks to @agniavateira​ who’s my muse and my editor, to @raspberrydreamclouds​ for this amazing cover and to those who’s been asking me about the chapter, means a lot to me. I am going into my usual Way to Hell posting panic attack. So bye for now.

*No permission is given for reposting my work, copying it or parts of the source material and claiming it as your own*

Please comment, review and reblog.  💖

Title: Paradise lost

There cannot be peace before first a great suffering.  There cannot be love without first a great tragedy.

~*~

Opaline droplets of sweat form on his forehead. In his ears, a constant buzzing rings wretchedly as if an angry hornet is caged inside his skull. What was long buried abruptly awakens, stabbing at the back of his head. Red flashes sear through his eyes while images of Ingvild dissolving to ashes play in his mind, her bloodsoaked feathers crumbling to the ground.

“Why did you go?” August mutters under his breath, wiping the sweat from his brow with the back of his hand. He crumples the little yellow note with sheer frustration before throwing it on the bed. 

‘I told her not to go, I commanded her!’

The air in the room grows thick like the pit of a stygian forest. Tentacle-like branches appear behind his eyes creeping closer, clutching his limbs. Even though lost and abandoned in the thicket of his mind, her angelic scent still lingers on his skin, impossible to wash off. Sniffing at his biceps, he inhales the mixture of their union on his flesh;  what begins as euphoric mirth quickly meets the sharp edge of rage and hatred.

She’s gone and it gnaws at the dark matter of his brain. 

He hates it. 

Hates her for being absent.

Frowning deeply, August reaches a rigid hand for his clothes, forcing himself to get dressed. The very first memory of her hinges on his mind: An icy woman with silver-moon eyes who refused his pursuit. 

‘Did you think the two of you are going to ride toward the sunset together? That’s not you.’

Letting out heavy gasps, he shakes his head. “She’ll be fine,” he whispers dismissively, pulling on his trousers and hastily buckling his belt. 

The new world order awaits, so close he can feel the fresh sun sitting on his open palm. It is his vision, his legacy: bigger than whatever it is Ingvild and him have together. 

There was no her in his plan, to begin with. 

The Devil never had a queen. 

‘You know what they’ll do to her…’

Another ray of daytime terror cuts through his thoughts: her wings plucked from her back, threads of flesh tearing from her naked body. Her screams die in silence.  

“She chose to leave, I asked her not to!” August yells into the empty room, frowning at no one but himself as he grabs the used shirt which hangs from the tall mirror. Turning to his reflection, he tenses at the sight of his body. Crimson valleys lead down his back, courtesy of her claws branding deep into soft tissue and toned muscles.

‘Do you know what is the probability of finding someone like her? A woman who wants to see the world burn with you? Who believes in your cause of building a new one?’

August swallows hard and combs his fingers through his hair with haste, attempting to act normal through the intensifying drumming in his ears. Being completely methodical, he pulls his long trench coat over his shoulders and collects his belongings into his black duffle bag on the bed. With a heavy painful breath, he forces his thoughts away, zipping the bag with urgency and reciting in his mind everything necessary for his trip. Time is scarce, the end and the new beginning are nigh; the smart thing to do is to forget her, erase her existence from the chambers of his heart. 

He doesn’t have one anyway. 

His hand secures the gun in its holster and harsh fingers lace around the black straps of his bag as he stretches himself straight, ready to leave this bedroom. That’s when his eyes fall again to the crumpled yellow note. 

‘You’ll never see her in Kashmir, you’ll never see her again.’ 

~*~

‘Amazing,’ the silver-haired wolf muses while scratching his bristly jaw. For 13 years the evil spawn’s eyes remained exactly as they were the day he picked her from the orphanage. Grey crystal orbs so naive, clueless, and oh so hungry for validation. A child desperate to prove herself worthy to someone, anyone. 

It was her single flaw and his greatest advantage.

Even now in the bloom of adulthood, the pale, scrawny thing standing before him is nothing but a lost little girl who wants someone to hold her bony hand. 

‘How can someone be so smart yet at the same time so blind?’

The cheap motel room smells like mildew and rotten wood. Speckles of dust float between the handler and his prodigy, cascading over his glance that seems rather alien and naked as glass. It pierces through her muscles - this sudden sense of peculiarity and estrangement.     

She chews the inside of her cheeks and sways slightly on her spot, arms hanging loose at her side. Ingvild lifts her chin to look at Liam, her eyes round with what can only be guilt. It makes her look like a child who broke an antique vase. 

“Thank you for answering my call,” she begins, wrapping her fist around a disposable phone before throwing it on the tidy bed.

Liam scoffs and shakes his head, ridicule spreading on his face. “You’ve gotten yourself into trouble over a boy, child?” He stares up and down the young woman, noticing the obvious change in her posture.

‘So, she truly is a woman now; how did I not see this one coming with her constant chatter about how handsome he is when I handed her the dossier?’

“Please don’t tell me you need money to get an abortion.” 

Ingvild frowns with disgust and shakes her head right away. “Never. No, it’s not what I’m here for.”

Displeased as always, Liam emits his usual grunt. He slowly shakes his head at his asset while running his fingers through his lanky grey hair. This is not how he imagined this mission to end. Her lack of emotions was a key element; Ingvild could have had a few good years running several missions for him, but what tipped the scale was for her to run into the wrong psychopath.

“Then tell me Ingvild, why should I listen to a failed assassin such as yourself? You’ve been weird about this mission since day one. Acting discreet, irresponsible, and reckless,” the old man’s Adam's apple bobs up and down in his throat as he speaks. Taking a small stride, he moves closer to get a better look of her diamond irises. So sharp and so strange, they’ve always irked him. As a child she downright looked like something out of a horror movie. 

“You’ve had 445 successful missions, not even 30 years old. Yet here you are a failure, and for what? For a boy?”

Shame traps her tongue and her glance drops to the floor. Failure stings like a rod of hot iron piercing her beating heart. Yet her mind races to the night at the pit where August finally claimed her, the memory of his lips sets glowing embers through her veins. On her skin remains the evidence of his embrace. Microscopic cells, tinted by his DNA. 

She doesn’t want this feeling to go away. 

Liam clears his throat, tearing her away from memories that turn from tar to honey the longer she dwells on them.

“You know why your mother gave you away, Ingi?” Liam asks, giving her a ghastly sardonic smile while cocking one eyebrow.

‘Liam never smiles.’ 

A small frown sets creases above her freckled nose. “I asked you many times before and you always said you don’t know.”

The Dane scoffs at her, his smile widening, exposing cigarette-and-coffee-stained teeth. The rot around his gums makes her curl her nose slightly and flinch as he leans closer. 

“You were a rape baby.”

The words send a pang through her muscles, like stepping on glass. She shakes her head with protest and steps back, yet Liam nods knowingly, standing in front of her.

“You’re lying.”

His small hazel eyes burn holes through her skull, his smile sinister and impish. “Your father was a savage, a rapist. He left your poor mother half-dead and impregnated in the forest you love so much. Who knows, maybe that’s why you kept going there as a child, reconnecting with your true nature.” 

Refusing to listen, she shies from his piercing glare. Liam reaches a coarse hand to cup her jaw, forcing her face back to his. “Your mother hated you. Your very existence reminds her of the most terrible thing that ever happened to her.”

For a child with such a limited emotional range, Liam finds that the muscles of her face are capable of stretching thoughtfully with spite. Pent up hatred creases her brow, her silver eyes turning to hot, molten gold. She bites on her tongue, keeping a vow of silence but he can read her face just the way an assassin would. 

“Nothing but a mistake, disowned by your own mother. So why would this man, this... mass murdering psychopath love you?” Liam shifts her head from side to side, inspecting the healing cuts and bruises that decorates her pale skin. “He saw an opportunity and seized it, used you…”

He pauses, moving away from a stare colder than icy lake water, “just like they will.”

Ingvild parts her lips with wonder, glaring at the person she knew all her life with disbelief. In the glossy reflection of Liam’s honey-brown eyes, she sees several black, long rifles pointed at her head.

Liam curls his thin lips with an utter lack of remorse and shrugs indifferently.

“She’s yours.”

*~*~

If colours had sound then the pale blinding white would be a continuous high-frequency hum. The tunes and shades of death. Like angry flies feasting on a corpse. 

‘Is this Valhalla?’

A small groan escapes her mouth, her eyes hurting from the sickly radiance of the narrow fluorescent lamps hanging from the ceiling. Her wrists feel numb as they’re pulled behind her back in restraints. 

“No,” she opens her mouth to speak, her throat burning, her voice a hoarse whisper. “Definitely not Valhalla...” 

‘You need to be a hero to enter Valhalla, stupid girl.’

Stupid didn’t even begin to describe it. August would never let her hear the end of it.

Loud, angry steps tap on the white marble floor, growing louder as the person approaching enters the room. Ingvild blinks, peering at the silhouette when a smile of comfort paints her drowsy face. Like a god, her lover strides toward her with his usual confidence. His ocean-blue eyes beam at her sight, his palm spread open to embrace his tiny Valkyrie. She chuckles at the mischievous, charming grin on his face as it reminds her the day they first met. 

Oh, she wishes to nibble his stupid chin right now and brush her fingers along his thick moustache.

But as she blinks again, large brown almond-shaped eyes replace the ocean-blue. A panther of a woman stands before her: confident, strong, and impossibly beautiful. Her dark, succulent lips are pressed together and concern shines through as she observes the small woman who has her arms cuffed behind her back and her feet shackled to the metal legs of the chair. 

With her head still heavy, the assassin turns her face from side to side. She quickly observes the armed guards at the entrance, the tall, greying agent standing nonchalantly against the wall awaiting orders, and lastly the sickly-looking, lean man who is positioned at the fore of a metal desk with his fingers laced together. Anticipation is written all over his line-riddled face. 

“Erica Sloane,” Ingvild calls knowingly, the ghost of a wicked smile dancing on her chapped lips as she turns her head to face the CIA director. Dressed in a black power suit and crimson pumps, the director is drenched with big dick energy.

“August told me so much about you, but he didn’t mention how fuckable you are.” Ingvild drawls, fluttering her lashes as she scans her from head to toe. 

Tilting her head, Erica grabs a white plastic chair and places it in front of Ingvild. She then takes a seat, crossing her long smooth legs together. Kindness and motherly concern pours from her dark eyes, expressions Ingvild never received from anyone in her life.

“Poor child, I imagine August Walker filled your head with many stories.”

“No…” Ingvild swallows, trying to dampen her sore throat. Noticing her struggle, Erica snaps her fingers and the greying agent rushes to bring her a plastic cup of water like a loyal dog. Focusing on the translucent beads around the cup, Ingvild flicks her tongue over her lips. “August was too busy filling other parts of me.”

The intrepid woman begins to laugh at her own joke, her voice dragging groggily while Erica rolls her eyes and shakes her head.

“I imagine so.” She answers and then carefully tilts the cup to Ingvild’s lips, offering the drink to the girl who sips with desperation as if she walked the desert. “August was my best agent,” she explains, watching the stream of water that rolls down Ingvild’s chin as she gulps with an incredible thirst, “a really proficient assassin, ranked high in every mission I sent him to. My golden boy. Even though that shit-eating attitude of him was something else...”

Withdrawing the cup, she looks into Ingvild’s cold silvery stare. “Those snarky, arrogant remarks and him going through the whole department like a fox in a hen coop I could overlook. But that fucker had us all fooled, Ingvild, as he fooled you.”

Ingvild flutters her dark lashes and tips her chin up. Her defined cheekbones sharpen even more as a snake-like arrogance poisons her face. “August told me what you did,” she utters sincerely, while Erica commands the agent to refill the plastic cup. Loathing melts her beautiful sullen glaciers as she focuses on Erica. 

The CIA director narrows her eyes at her in return, and curls her lips downward as disdain fills her mouth. “I am not the one who made Walker murder Agent Hartmann, if that’s what you’re implying.”

“You deceived him,” Ingvild retorts calmly and sucks in her bottom lip, collecting the remaining droplets of water onto her tongue. “That’s what you and your little agencies do to people like us. Set up traps for predators and pretend to act surprised as they eat the bait.”

Holding the cup, Erica stares at the young woman thoughtfully, the burning hatred in her eyes reminding her so much of Agent Walker: An entitled spoiled brat, thinking he can wind the world to the direction only he sought to be right. 

“You can’t blame a predator for following its nature, and you can’t expect him to behave otherwise.” 

“Is that how you see yourself?” Erica asks, moving the cup away, though she can see the thirst on Ingvild’s gaping bottom lip. “August poisoned your mind but I assure you, you are not the monster he is. You never had the choice that he did.”

Erica’s voice suddenly becomes soft, and her big brown eyes become round with care that only a parent can express. But the only form of parent Ingvild ever had was Liam, and he was never much of a father, was he? It took less than a few hours for him to give her away. 

She wonders how long it took for her real mother.

Her gaze drops, peering at Erica’s shiny crimson shoes as they counter the lifelessness of the floor like blood in the snow. Memories whisk her away again, a man in pursuit of a woman deep in an icy forest. She should have died that night and yet here she is, shackled to a chair. The voice of the man who saved her echoes through her head with a fair warning: ‘Liam never gave a flying fuck about you.’

Sharp as a needle, it pricks her heart.

“I know what Icarus did. Moulding you into the perfect assassin, depriving you of the childhood and the life you deserved.” Erica’s voice cuts into her trail of thoughts, making her raise her gaze back to the beautiful woman. “Now, I don’t know what twisted fantasies August may have offered but I can assure you, they are empty just like him. You read his file, you know what he’s capable of. Looking at your scars and bruises I assume he hurts you for his own sick pleasure, taking advantage of a woman who only wants to be loved.”

‘She doesn’t know him like I do, the way he drank my lips and called me his angel, the way his fingertips beat the warm blood in my arteries.’ Ingvild shuts her eyes, soaking in the remnants of his touch as it still ghosts across her body.

Erica’s kind, tepid hand wraps around the young woman’s jaw, lifting her pale face with the cautiousness of a human tending a wild creature. Grey and dark-brown collide at the seams as they share a silent stare.    

“If you’ll give us his location, we can arrange for your freedom and protection.”  

Ingvild breaks away from Erica’s grip, pushing herself back in the chair as much as she can. The screech of metal against marble makes the guards cringe. Slow and cold, a sardonic chuckle begins to burst from Ingvild’s lungs. The laughter echoes off the walls while she shakes her head with disbelief. 

“Do I look like a dumb bitch to you? Even if this was true, do you think I’m willing to be a slave to another government? Kept ignorant and tabbed? I’d rather rot in this cell while my beautiful monster dismantles your old world order.”

Drops of water splash at her face as Erica squashes the plastic cup in front of her, sulking with fury. Her eyebrows knit together and she purses her lips as if this young woman is something sour on her tongue. 

Evidently, Liam was right; the girl is far too gone, living in the little fantasy world August built for her. 

“If you think he ever cared about you for a split second, then you are a dumb bitch. No matter how this plays out, you and August are never going to end up happily ever after.” Erica spits, holding her finger at Ingvild’s childlike frown. “He’s never going to come for you. You were nothing but a toy, a plaything for him to pass the time.”

Ingvild scoffs and rolls her eyes, refusing to let these words cut into the beating muscle in her chest. 

`Stick and stones may break my bones...’

Solid, slender fingers wrap around her jaw, squeezing around her cheeks like a big spider. She is met with Erica’s long lashes, while those deep brown eyes slice into her soul. 

“You might think you know him, but I’ve worked with August long enough to know that he never loved anything other than his precious ego. So I would consider this as your final chance little girl, because if you don’t talk right now - this nice fellow here...” Erica pauses and gestures her head to the scrawny man who begins to hum a blissful tune while cracking his knuckles. Twisted excitement shines through his beady eyes as he glances at the set of sharp surgical tools lying on the desk.

“He’s going to make you sing like the precious bird you are.”

Fear shies from Ingvild’s stoic, icy face. The well-lubricated gears in the labyrinth of her head begin to work, observing the possible escape options and scanning every cavity, crease, and man in Erica’s lovely torture chamber.  

The door suddenly bursts open. A man in his mid thirties with bright red hair and a freckle-covered face rushes in, huffing heavily. His pink skin glistens with sweat, the strands of his fiery hair sticking on his large forehead while his hand holds onto his chest with distress. 

“Sloane, there is something you need to see…” he opens his mouth breathlessly.

“Not now!” Sloane snaps at him, looking at Ingvild with contempt. There is nothing she wishes more than to avoid torturing a young woman, especially someone as misguided as this poor porcelain doll. All she needs is to make her see the truth, that August never cared for her, that she was just another pawn in his grand scheme. 

“Director, I am sorry, but you really need to come and see this.” 

Agitated, Erica snaps in her chair to look at him. “What is it, Agent Louis?”

“It’s John Lark’s manifesto, ma’am…” he sighs, shoulders slumping, “it’s… it’s everywhere.”

A shivering hiss escapes her mouth. The shiver that graces the rail of her spine is like a shower of icy water, making her slowly rise from her chair. August’s harmful “poetry” is released into the air like toxic gas, contaminating every fragile little mind in an already unstable world.  

“Do you like my little surprise?” Ingvild asks, making the baffled woman turn to gaze at her. There’s a malicious little smile dancing across her eyes, her brows lifting with an arrogance that strongly resembles Agent Walker. 

Swallowing hard, the CIA woman takes a step back, tugging her jacket straight and looking at the torturer who lifts a small hammer between his pliable fingers. 

“Break her, until she talks.” 

The harsh tapping of her heels dies down and her silhouette becomes smaller until it disappears behind the shutting door. 

“Pretty girl...” The man’s voice is brittle and thin as he is, every word ending with a slight snake-like hiss. He moves to scrutinise her from head to toe, flicking his tongue over his bottom lip with a prying nature. 

“You know August used to mock me…”

“I can see why,” she spits out, looking back at him with both fearlessness and utter disrespect. She killed men bigger than him, hell, August’s kneaded her to submission and his torture was nothing but sweet. 

She can take him on, she can take all of them on.

The lean man beams at her, holding up the small shiny hammer and running his finger over the rim pervertedly. The dead skin around his nails rouses disgust in her gut, yet she rolls her eyes and fakes a yawn.

He chuckles at her theatrics and kneels in front of her with one unstable hand pressing onto her thigh. His revolting fingers scratch gently at her denim, making her shiver. If August knew another man was laying his finger on her… 

But August is not here.

“Well… shall we begin, little bird?”

***

‘When this world ends and the new one begins, what will be of your little Valkyrie? Merely bones and rotting flesh laid in an unmarked grave in the middle of nowhere and mourned by no one. Won’t you be jealous of the insects feasting on her narcotic tissue?’

Cold air seeps through his nose as sharp bullets of hail hit the ground with the fury of angry gods, shattering onto the ruins of an old bridge with a loud, clattering noise. Sheltered from the rage of the heavens, August stands beneath the wreckage, facing the men who came to make the final exchange. 

Blue and green ferns have grown over the decaying surroundings, climbing over rusted metal. Nature reclaiming its place over man’s occupied space. Justice and beauty in decadence and rot. 

‘Memento mori.’

“The plutonium,”  August demands, his thick brows shadowing his eyes in a battle to remain composed. Those same parasitic visions of sheer terror burden him like a daytime nightmare: pale as porcelain, she sinks to the bottom of a lake thick with blood. His hand reaches out for her, fingers trying to grasp whatever he can but she slips away. 

‘How far do you think Erica will go this time?’ 

A rogue droplet of sweat glides languidly down his temple, crossing over a bulging tendon. Unfortunately quite apparent to the three men who scrutinise him with wonder: two well-paid bodyguards and a slimy-looking slug, wearing a dark business suit that does nothing but emphasize his fragile masculinity. 

“The money first!” The businessman whines, attempting to make a tough face.

‘A cock and two balls.’ August jests and does his best to remain indifferent while anxiety threatens to claw its ugly talons in his throat. The seller’s receding hairline is thick with dandruff, his dull green eyes attempt to mimic confidence, as a beta male would do when facing a pure alpha, trying to compensate for lost dignity.  

‘I don’t have time for this,’ August huffs, his chest puffing and the immense shoulders stretching even wider, exhuming his natural overpowering dominance. His patience runs brittle as a dry twig. A restless throb thunders between his ears like a scab, latched inside his brain. 

The slug pries his mouth open to speak, yet his voice becomes dull as if the world just went underwater.

‘Do you think she’ll go as far as to let her men touch her? You know, not just the usual torture they put interrogated suspects through, but the type of touch only you are allowed to.’

‘She doesn’t have the balls, she won’t do that to another woman.’ 

‘Won’t she? It’s personal this time. Erica knows what you are capable of. And your Ingvild, she’s an apostle too now, an enemy of the world…’

Fever burns at his sweaty forehead and his lungs gradually collapse. Visions he can’t even bring himself to imagine attempt force their way into his mind. The yapping of the man who stands in front of him goes on and on; while August can feel himself speak in response, the words spouting from his lips are on autopilot. 

All he can think of is her, stripped naked, torn to shreds by dark shadows.   

‘She holds back a lot, but when she slips, aren’t her screams so beautiful? Her pleasant little voice, stretching so melodically, like skin over bone, thin and light.’

“Shut up!”

All eyes lift to August in silent bewilderment. His fists tighten, nails digging into his coarse palms as the will to rip someone to shreds beats through his blood. These men will be no more than a casualty. 

“Do you know who I am?” He asks in a deep, menacing tone, his hand but a second from reaching his holster. By measured calculation, he already anticipates how quickly he would shoot them one by one without so much of a scratch on his cheek.

“I’m John, fucking, Lark. My apostles are awaiting orders this very instance,” he reaches for his phone, ignoring the flinch in their posture as he draws it from his pocket and shakes it in his hand on display, “and you want to stand here in this shit weather and measure dicks? Spoiler alert,” he takes a stride in front of the little man, careless of his bodyguards who reach for their weapons, “mine is far bigger.”   

The seller peers at him silently, noticing the icy crust of rage in August’s glare. His pale eyes cut like diamonds while the shadow of his brooding figure falls upon the small man’s face. 

“You will get your money once I get to see the plutonium and confirm it’s authenticity,” August calls out assertively, each word distinguished, each syllable emphasised and sharp as a blade. Death is no longer an enemy to August Walker but an old friend, and those trolls under the bridge are a mere joke to the inferno he’s been basking at his entire life.

‘Limb by limb, feather by feather, while you waste your time...’

‘She wanted me here, she wanted me to secure the plutonium. If I don’t do this, it will all be for nothing.’

‘So now you are doing this for her?’

Not saying another word, the seller nods and snaps his fingers. Agitation is evident on his face yet the violence emanating from August forces him to bite down his pride. One of his henchmen approaches with a suitcase and opens it up to show August the orbs.

Thunder rips through the sky and the hail turns into a symphony of wrath. Icicles break across the construction site above, splashing water everywhere around them. Staring at the platinum spheres, August sees his own reflection dulled by the dirty silver curve. 

A dormant thing. But when set into motion, ever so deadly. 

He presses the beryllium rod to test the authenticity of the material and a sigh of relief pipes itself through his nose at the sound of the radioactive note on his testing device. Celebration blooms in his weary heart but the festivity is deemed achingly empty and dies out right away. 

‘Stop thinking about her, she’s gone. Focus on the cause, you’re almost there, just keep pushing through the doors.’ 

~*~

The blizzard melted into shy rain. The soft little drops dampen his hair, perming his large curls with the assistance of the cool winter breeze. Standing with the suitcase on the side of the rural road, August awaits his ride taking him to the helipad to proceed to Kashmir. It has been so long since he last met his true colleagues, since his departure from Lane in Norway. Avoiding any risks, contact was kept only necessary for the last stages of their tasks.

Doom’s day.

Securing the plutonium should have brought him relief, yet his chest continues to sink into his spine as if it’s being filled with coals. August Walker threaded through life alone, yet this sudden solitude is suddenly harrowing, making him feel like a gutted fish. Looking to his empty side he the ghost of her appears, giving him a bratty smirk. 

“Go away,” he chides, refusing to think of her. Of that stupid mouth talking back, tormenting him with sweet saccharine and cinnamon-like kisses. In his reminiscences, the softness of her lips still hinges. Tenderness meeting the bristle of his neck as she lay gentle wet markings up his coarse jaw. 

His fingers press to his mouth trying to harness the memory. 

A large car drives into the side of the road, speeding up and braking right next to his legs, missing August’s foot by an inch. Frowning at the careless driver, he grunts and brushes his hair before opening the passenger door.

“Took you awhile,” he grunts as he slips into the seat and peers at the driver. A bulky man in his early 40s with dark short cropped curls and thin lips. He shoots August a glance and turns back to the steering wheel.  

“Not my bad, you made a fucking mess, Lark.” The man answers and begins driving right away, careless of the fact that August didn’t put his seatbelt on and that he is holding radioactive material. 

Throwing the seatbelt over himself and fastening it, August growls and carefully secures the case on the side of the driver seat, his index finger remaining on the brim. He gently caresses the hard black leather. “What the fuck are you talking about?” 

The driver peers at him oddly before looking down the road, driving fast and passing a large log truck. “Releasing the manifesto. MI6 and the CIA are all over the place,” he says and turns the radio on, letting August hear the news on his own. “I get why you did it now, it’s brilliant to cause another distraction but you’ve made shit a bit harder with those cunts running around. They tracked it back from London and have been surveying the entire area.”

“I didn’t release the... “ 

August stills, his muscles shriveling up as realisation quickly hits him. 

‘Oh angel, what have you done?’

Drawing out his mobile phone, August immediately begins to search the newsite, his eyes an ocean of panic, fluttering back and forth. It’s everywhere, news about an anarchist manifesto, spreading like a virus through every social media outlet, leaked by codename “Jane Lark”. 

“Fuck,” he hisses, reading his own written word as he goes through an article posted on the BBC’s newsite. But she changed the last verse, added a little piece of her own:  

“Valkyries mounted onto beasts,  We will ride eternal to the sun. The blazes will sear us but we will not back down,  United by our cause of just war, Unflinching we will scour the earth, Until humanity comes together in tranquil and harmony.”

‘She loves you, you see? The way she lets you bleed her, use her, spill all your pain inside her. The way she held onto you just a night ago, your name falling from her lips, her body pressing into yours to take all of you. She’s the only one. The only woman who did and ever will. 

And you left her to die.’

________________________________

Disclaimer: I don’t own Mission Impossible and August Walker

[inkdrinkershadowsinger]

Nessian Mating Ceremony

Reblogs are welcome, but please don’t post to another site.

Rhysand was still a dick, ornate mating ceremony paid by his coin or not. “Nesta”, he called insistently from the other room. She and Cassian were going over last minute ceremony details with Mor and Rhys and Nesta was out numbered. Nesta walked back into the room. Mor was sitting in a high winged back chair steadily drinking her third glass of wine while a perturbed looking Cassian stood arguing with an even more perturbed looking Rhys. The most powerful High Lord in history stood in front of her mate with two sample cloths clutched in his hands that were not quite claws, and said, “This is ivory, Cass, and this is egg white. There is a clear difference.” 

Cassian ran a hand through his long hair, and Nesta could feel his frustration through the bond. 

“And I told you that Nesta and I had already settled on opaque white. This is no longer up for discussion. What we need to discuss are the flowers.” And then the most accomplished general in Illyrian history lifted up a bouquet of roses in one hand and a bunch of ash lilies in the other. 

Neither of them see her, and Nesta decides to let them fight it out without her. Everyone thought that she would be the one to stress and worry over the big day, but that isn’t how she saw it. She and Cassian were already inextricably bonded. One big day did not decide the level of their bond. It had been there from the start in that room in their old home, and now, in their new home they would celebrate that hard fought for bond with their family and friends. 

The ceremony was to be held at the House. The House had been there for Nesta when the world couldn’t be. It was her friend. She would have the ceremony no other place. Having the ceremony at the House also allowed for the priestesses to be there. She would not have a ceremony if Gwyn couldn’t be there. After the horror that had been the blood rite, Gwyn’s appearances outside of the library had been few and far between. She still came to training, and she had come to the pre-mating lunch Feyre had thrown at the River House, but that was it. Still, she insisted on staying within the library walls more often than not. It made Nesta want to kill all those inbred fuckers all over again. She hoped that Gwyn’s progress had not been stumped permanently. 

When she confronted her, Gwyn had insisted that she was fine. She was only doing research with Merrill along with a side project that she had deemed too secret to discuss out loud. Not even Emerie had been able to loosen her lips. 

Nesta had been spared from choosing her bridal court as Prythian ceremonies were a little different. A high priestess, they had asked Clotho to do the honors, would marry them in the library before they would meet with the others for the celebration. Nesta was pleased that she wouldn’t have to confess her deepest thoughts in front of anyone but Cassian. She had never been overly demonstrative, and a mating bond had not made her more so. Cassian and she chose to express their themselves physically rather than with words, and that was fine by her. She could feel how much he loved her with the way that he touched her, in the way that he looked at her. She knew what he felt, and she knew that Cassian knew her heart as well. 

Cassian was already waiting inside with Clotho. Nesta would walk the aisle that ran through their gathered family and friends then through a set of double doors where Clotho and Cassian waited. Her dress was something out of her wildest dreams. Royal blue, with a high neckline and open back. It was more sleek than she normally preferred, but an additional layer of the most beautiful sparkling lace that she had ever seen flowed from the waist line of the dress so that when she walked it looked like Nesta was walking through clouds. Nesta had looked everywhere for something magical to wear for her ceremony, but it was Rhys who had found this dress. It was one gift that she didn’t hesitate to accept. 

The crown was also a gift. It was not the crown from the Trove, but it was spectacular. A coronet of sparkling diamond sat atop her braided hair. Her mother would have been proud. She looked like a queen, but it would have been Nesta’s father who would have been glowing. Nesta and Cassian had gone to his grave that morning. She had wanted her father to see her on her wedding day. She had ached at the way Cassian had addressed her father, as if he were still living. She wondered what her father would have thought about the hardened looking general with a heart of gold. 

Nesta’s heart was beating so loudly she was sure everyone could hear it. “You look beautiful,” Emerie said. Gwyn nodded. They were both dressed to the nines. Emerie in a red dress that Nesta was vaguely sure she had seen before, but never on Emerie. While Gwyn wore her dress robes, a pale green set that brought out the color of her eyes. Feyre and Elain were there as well. Emerie and Gwyn and then Elain would proceed Feyre into the inner chamber of the library. Feyre, as High Lady of the Night Court, would go before Nesta. She and baby Nyx in her arms would lead the way for the bride. 

Gwyn and Emerie winked at her as the door opened, and the music from Cassian’s last Solstice gift started to play. It was the song that they had danced to that night in the Hewn City. Nesta nearly had to look away for the fresh tears in her eyes. 

This was it. She was going to be formally bonded to her mate. Elain reached out and grasped Nesta’s hands. “You deserve this,” she said before following Gwyn and Emerie into the chamber. 

“You deserve this,” the words echoed in her mind. She had walked those ten thousand steps last night when she found it impossible to sleep. Cassian had woken from his slumber, and they had walked them together. She wasn’t sure if she deserved him, but she knew without a doubt that she would do everything in her power to one day feel as if she did. She would work for and on their love every day of her immortal life. 

“Are you ready?” Feyre asked, and little Nyx in her arms reached out happily towards his Auntie Nesta. 

Nesta nodded. Not trusting herself to speak. 

Feyre smiled at her, and Nesta felt that peace that had grown between the two of them since her turning grow steadier. This was her family. She was not a burden to them. They were here to celebrate her. They were here to show her love for her, and she had done nothing to earn it because love was not something that you has to be earned. It is given. 

When Nesta stepped into the outer chamber, everyone stood and looked her way, but her focus was entirely on the doors in front of her. She imagined that she could hear his heart through the wood. 

As she walked forward, she was reminded of every step of those stairs in the House. She was reminded of the pain, the aching legs, the nausea, and the exhaustion. And she was reminded of the satisfaction, of the peace, of the accomplishment that she had felt when she had conquered something that she had thought was unconquerable. 

She smirked, wondering if Cassian had felt that way about her. 

Then she was there, and for the briefest of moments, Rhys, Azriel, and Mor along with the rest of the outer chamber glanced Cassian, but he only saw her. 

“Hello, Nes,” he said as the doors closed locking them inside with Clotho. He grasped her hands, and Nesta was surprised of how steady they were. How was it possible that Cassian felt no nerves when Nesta could barely look him in the eye? 

She turned to look at Clotho to thank her or to say anything at all when her mouth felt like it was seizing, but Cassian gently reached for her chin. 

He turned her face to his, and bent down to kiss her gently on the cheek. 

“I’ve missed you,” he whispered. 

“It’s only been a few hours,” Nesta replied, fighting the butterflies in her stomach. 

“Not for me,” Cassian replied, and she knew what he meant. He had waited for her for over five hundred years. He had loved and been loved by others, but still he had never given up on the idea of his mate, of her. He had fought for her when she was threw fighting entirely for the past two years. He had saved her. He had reached out his hand, and saved her from the water that threatened to drown her. 

She looked into his brown eyes, and she felt at peace. Inner peace. 

Clotho cleared her throat, and Cassian and Nesta turned towards her in unison.

She had written out her part in the ceremony. Cassian and Nesta read it together.  

“A mating bond is one of the most precious gifts that we have been given. For beings that are so long lived, it can feel as if life loses some of its significance. But a mate, a loved one, a friend, a companion gives us something to treasure. You are here today because you would like to formally bond yourself to each other. Do you vow to be connected by the mother in this life and in the next?” 

“I vow,” started Cassian. “that we will have all the time we need to love one another. I vow that no amount of time will be enough for me. I vow to honor you and worship you. I vow to fight for you and by your side. I vow to be all things to you. I vow to be connected to you by the mother in this world and all worlds. Forever.” 

Nesta let the tears fall. Cassian swept them away. 

Clotho then motioned to Nesta. 

Nesta forced herself to speak loudly and clearly. 

“I vow to reach out to you when I will reach out to no other. I vow to dance with you and for you. I vow that no amount of time will be enough for me to love you. I vow to pull you out of dark days and dark memories. I vow to blot out the harshness of your past with the brightness of our future. I vow to fight for you and by your side against all enemies. I vow to be all things to you. I vow to be connected to you by the mother in this world and all worlds. Forever.” 

As she finished the last word of her vow, she felt a familiar rumble of power that still reverberated inside of her, and she knew that the source who had brought them together was pleased. 

Then in the outer chamber, they heard singing. It was a song that Nesta had heard in the priestesses’ celebrations many times. It was one of peace, of love, of completion. Cassian leaned close to her, and kissed her, this time on the lips. 

Nesta folded herself into his embrace. She was whole. She was his. They were each others.