#Silver replies to rare message

[enwoso]

right swipe, right time | alessia russo

-> based on this request🩷

masterlist

alessia didn't mean to download tinder.

well... okay. technically, she did. but it was through pure peer pressure. elite-level peer pressure.

it was one of those rare, peaceful nights on england camp. no media obligations. no early morning session. just music, snacks, and eight girls crammed into one hotel room in matching lionesses training hoodies, flopped on each other's beds with face masks and football socks still on.

"admit it," ella said, sipping from a bottle of lucozade. "you're hopeless. you haven't even looked at anyone since—what, 2021 when you got with that girl in-?"

"oi," alessia replied, shoving a pillow at her hoping the rest of the sentence wouldn't follow. "not everyone needs a tinder girlfriend and a backup date."

"i need to have a backup," ella scoffed. "just let us be your wing women."

chloe popped her head up from the floor. "you, though, less? you're like a nun with abs."

"excuse me?"

"i'm just saying, you've got biceps and absolutely no one to appreciate them. it's tragic really."

the teasing escalated until ella snatched alessia's phone, cackling. within minutes, the group was huddled around it, swiping through profiles with ruthless commentary.

then chloe stopped. "wait. wait. look at her."

the girl on the screen had sun-warmed skin, a long sleek ponytail with a silver chain around her neck and a smile like it came easy.

the profile read:

y/n, 26.

📍aussie in london

dog mum, football, coffee, beach, sarcasm. swipe right if you can deal with my accent😉

alessia blinked. "she's australian?"

"even better," leah said, not even looking up from her phone. "less commitment, more fun." ella laughed and swiped right before alessia could protest.

it was a match. you messaged first.

you: ‘so... you're the type who let her friends swipe for her?’

alessia: ‘and who told you that??’

you: ‘you did. in your bio. it says not my idea.’

alessia: ‘touché.’

you: ‘how do you feel about a flat white and great company.’

you were clever. funny, but not in the exhausting ‘trying-too-hard’ way. you admitted your accent made ‘no’ sound like ‘naw,’ were fluent in football slang props to having a football mad brother and dad growing up, and had some pretty strong opinions about oat milk.

on the second day you sent a photo of your dog - a tan mutt with ridiculous ears, one permanently flopped sideways.

you: ‘this is roo. he's 40% kangaroo, 60% drama queen.’

alessia: ‘did you really name your dog after a kangaroo?’

you: ‘duh what else am i supposed to name the most aussie thing i've owned while here in london?’

alessia laughed so hard she nearly dropped her phone.

you and alessia talked for hours. that night. the next day. the next. alessia didn't want to jinx it, but something about you stuck in her head.

so when you casually said on facetime, "i know a place that makes coffee almost as good as back home. want to judge it together?", alessia couldn't stop herself before she said yes.

⸻

you arranged to meet just outside of st albans, outside a quiet café nestled between a vinyl shop and a bookstore that always smelled like cedar. the place had one of those wood-paneled signs and hanging plants framing the doorway.

you were already there when alessia arrived — leaning on the railing, sunglasses tucked onto the top of your head, wearing black jeans, a red nike hoodie with a white tee poking out from underneath the hoodie making you look so effortlessly put together.

and you brought roo. a worn blue leash in one hand as roo sat obediently at your side with his tongue lolling out like he owned the street.

"so this is the infamous roo?" alessia asked as she crouched down to scratch behind his ear with a wide grin.

you grinned cheekily, "he wanted to see if you were worth my time."

"and?"

"jury's out, depends on how good your coffee order is"

inside, you and alessia sat at a corner table by the window, roo laid under the table, head on your foot like a sleepy chaperon.

the cafe was cozy, a little too warm with soft music playing and the smell of fresh espresso lingering in the air as the conversation flowed as if they'd known each other longer than a few days.

the two of you talked football, you had played through your youth before switching to the more fitness route of personal trainer. talked music types. favourite food. best goals.

alessia recounted her childhood to you about growing up with two older brothers who tackled her in the garden until she toughened up. you had similar instead yours was more squabbles with your brother about whose turn it was to chose what to watch on the tv.

the two of you laughed, a lot and alessia found herself more relaxed than she had felt in ages.

after coffee turned into a walk through the park, roo trotting between the two of you like he belonged to you and alessia. when you both stoped on a quiet bench, the city loud and buzzing behind them. you gently nudged alessia's shoulder.

"you've got a great laugh," you said, you voice a little softer now - not flirtatious, not teasing. just honest.

alessia blinked, caught off guard a little. "that's random."

you shrugged, but there was a flicker of something more vulnerable in your eyes. "just been thinking it all afternoon. every time you've laughed, i've wanted to hear it again. i dunno. it's like.. it sounds a little like home, even when nothing else here does."

that brought alessia up short — in the best way. her pulse fluttered a little. the wind tugged at a loose strand of hair near her cheek, and you reached out instinctively, brushing it back gently with the back of your hand.

"and," you added, gaze holding hers, "i-i really want to kiss you."

alessia didn't say anything at first. she just stared at you — at the slight flush on your cheeks, the careful tension in your posture, the way your thumb brushed against her own jeans like you were grounding herself.

"i thought you'd never say it," alessia said quietly almost whispering. you smiled, just barely.

alessia leaned in, slow and sure, her hand resting lightly on your arm. your faces hovered close, breath mingling in the space between the two of you. when your lips met, it wasn't fireworks or drama — it was warm, slow, and steady. like the start of something that didn't need to rush to prove itself.

alessia's lips were soft, patient — like she didn't want to take too much, just enough to say this is real.

you smiled into the kiss, nudging your nose against alessia's as she deepened it for just a heartbeat more, letting herself melt into the moment.

roo let out an exaggerated sigh at your feet, flopping down dramatically like he'd seen this all before.

you pulled back with a quiet laugh, your forehead resting lightly against alessia's. "well," you murmured, "guess you passed his test too."

alessia's grin was wide now. "should i be relieved or insulted that your dog is the final judge?"

"trust me," you said, brushing your thumb gently across alessia's hand, "he's got excellent taste."

⸻

fast forward a few weeks — text messages, video calls, one stolen weekend when you and alessia both had a spare weekend — and suddenly it was the champions league final.

most of alessia's teammates had someone in the crowd. family, partners, whole sections of fans in their shirts. alessia didn't expect anyone but her parents and family to be there.

so when alessia jogged out for warm-ups and caught a flash of that same sleek ponytail under a baseball cap, sitting behind the dugout with a massive arsenal flag scarf draped over your shoulders, alessia's heart just stopped.

you grinned at alessia from the stands and sent a message.

you: ‘go win it, star girl. i'm here. you've got this and you deserve this so much🏆’

the final whistle blew.

the roar hit first — a wave of noise so loud it felt like it shook the air itself. arsenal had done it. champions of europe. alessia stood frozen for a second, boots rooted to the grass, blinking up at the stadium lights through tears she hadn't realised were already falling.

a brutal, brilliant final. 90 minutes of fight. blood, grit, and everything they had left in them.

now there were arms around alessia — teammates screaming, laughing, crying — someone pouring champagne over her back, another dragging her into a pile-on. alessia laughed so hard she nearly dropped to her knees, adrenaline flooding her body until she was floating.

confetti exploded from the stands like rain. gold, silver, red — blinding under the floodlights. they lifted the trophy. alessia's medal felt heavy and strange around her neck, like it wasn't real yet.

somewhere in the middle of the chaos, she remembered to look toward the tunnel. and there you were.

you stood just past the barrier, half-hidden by stewards and staff, but alessia saw you instantly. somehow, even through the din, even with a stadium erupting around her, alessia's eyes found yours.

"you came?," alessia said breathlessly as she stumbled toward you, cheeks flushed, hair soaked, half-covered in sweat and sticky champagne. alessia's voice cracked on the last word.

you smiled — wide, proud, and maybe just a little teary yourself. "of course i did. you think i was gonna miss the love of my life win a champions league medal?"

alessia froze mid-step, slightly caught off guard. "you just said—"

you smirked, raising an eyebrow slightly . "too soon? i'm australian. we move fast."

alessia laughed, dazed and glowing, before pulling you into a quick, messy hug. a one you didn't want to end, at least not yet. but before either of you could say more, a voice rang out:

"well, well, well. whose this?"

chloe kelly. grinning like a madwoman, dragging leah along behind her, both still in full kit, cheeks streaked with war paint and joy.

leah narrowed her eyes. "wait hold up... this the aussie?"

"the tinder aussie?" chloe gasped. "you're real?!"

you, cool as ever, extended a hand, voice deadpan with just the right touch of theatricality.

"y/n. from sydney. like coffee, dogs, and a certain blonde striker who wears number 23."

chloe collapsed into giggles so violent she almost dropped her phone. "she's perfect. and you've been hiding her! wait till i tell ella about this!"

alessia groaned, trying to tuck herself partially behind you. "can everyone not make this a thing?"

"too late," leah declared, already snapping a photo. "group chat is getting this in two minutes. tooney is gonna have a field day!"

you leaned toward alessia's ear, your voice low and warm beneath the chaos. "i'm stealing you in five minutes. you've earned my full attention and unlimited kisses for the night and maybe the rest of eternity!"

alessia turned to face you, her medal bumping softly against her chest. her eyes were tired and shining. "only if i get the right side of the bed."

you grinned. "done. whatever you wish, with my hoodie on the side"

and then, right there, in front of teammates, staff, her family, and 60,000 still-cheering fans — you kissed her. it wasn't rushed. it wasn't shy. it was the kind of kiss that told everyone watching: this is real.

alessia leaned into it, one hand finding the hem of your coat, the other curled into your hoodie, grounding herself. you tasted like mint and stadium air and something steadier, something safe.

when you finally pulled back, alessia's smile was soft and breathless. for once — champagne in her hair, confetti in her eyelashes, teammates heckling in the background — alessia didn't care about the noise, the cameras, or what tomorrow would bring.

for once, the chaos was absolutely worth it. alessia had swiped right for the right person. her right person

[sh1-n0bu]

imagine dating an older man this, imagine dating an older woman that COWARDS🗣️ imagine being an older woman and having a younger guy astronomically DOWN BAD (for all intents and purposes, this is a joke. i am not an older woman, nor am i shitting on ppl who love aforementioned relationship dynamics, this is just a horndogged thought)

imagine being an older woman, who never really saw the appeal in romantic or sexual relationships, only focusing on what was ahead of you. the job, adventures of life, education, academic achievements and your own personal hobbies, pastime enjoyments and relationships other than the romantic or sexual ones. there was more to world and life than just that after all, even though your friends�� nagging of when you will reveal the secret guy, or when you will find someone to settle down etc rang out during nearly every night outs, surely giving you a grey strand or few. really, you just… weren’t interested at all. there were rarely anyone who caught your attention and those who did were only appealing to the eyes rather than the heart

sure, there were some boys who would saunter up to you at the bar or cafe with their smug little faces and annoying attitudes, talking some shit about how they like their women like a silver fox, talking about how you were a beekeeping age, or even the stupid ‘i like my woman who are as old as my momma’. useless little things being said as a means to get a single night stand. you’d always tell them off with some backhanded insult, sharp words or how this wasn’t the predator franchise

one thing led to another and one of your closest and longest lasting friend had downloaded a dating app on your phone for you. something something about how you were in the perfect age to settle down now and if not, at least go out on a romantic date for once rather than taking yourself out on dates or with the ladies. you decided to humor them, keeping the app and adding very minimum information about yourself, work, hobbies and what not before kicking the acknowledgement of the app’s existence into the back of your mind

many DMs and snaps were sent to you of course, the usual beekeeping age bullshit. the rare few men who would be around your age range would end up being married, had a fiancée or in an odd form of relationship. you made sure to get their partners’ phone number and name before blocking them, calling them or texting them to notify them that their partner was a cheating bastard and had a dating app. “it’s their relationship, not yours!” most would say, but ladies gotta look out for one another in your opinion. made a pretty few sweet friends that way too

it was one of your slow and peaceful weekends when your phone dinged, another DM text in that accursed dating app. though instead of the usual annoying half-assed flirts or dick pics, it was a simple compliment. ‘good eve, ma’am. i just wanted to say that you look breathtaking. have a nice night, ma’am’ was all it said, a reply to one of the pictures you had added to the app for the introduction part. surprisingly straight to the point and respectful, so with a shrug and a ‘might as well give it a shot’ thought, you messaged back with some words of gratitude. something that quickly derailed into a nice normal conversation and getting to know each other texts. checking his profile, you found out that he was basically in the same position as you. forced by some of his friends to grow outside his shell, few pictures and simple descriptions, just a few years younger. safe to say, he was your first match in that damn app

life continued on, weekdays and weekends switching in their endless circle and you and your dating app friend had gotten close. it truly did felt like he was a nice mannered young man and when he asked if you would be willing to go out on a date, you agreed. nothing wrong with putting the dating app to its original intents and purposes. he was sweet, planned nearly everything with your added thoughts and preferences and had let you enjoy a nice dinner date, all freshened up and smelling of a sweet cologne with a decent suit. perhaps this whole dating app thing was a good idea after all, even as he stuttered sometimes and tripped over his words upon seeing how gorgeous you were, you thought of him as oddly cute

one dinner date turned into a few dates, then park, movie and hobby dates and before you two had known it, the whole thing had shifted smoothly into a relationship. things taken slowly at your own preferred pace, no use of rushing or getting down and dirty. it was a good relationship and possibly the best one you had so far, you'd wager. even your sweet boyfriend - as much as you both occasionally laugh and joke how it was unfitting and even a little bit young and childish for your age - had gotten used to this shift in life, comfortable with making you breakfast in bed on the days you have a work off or just sleeping in, making your coffee just the way you like, eggs cooked to fit your needs on a crispy toast, a pancake, with an adorably whipped cream drawn smiley face. it was just perfect

but of course, there were the occasional moments when your boyfriend nearly destroyed these perfect moments — at least, in his opinion. waking up in the morning before you, and seeing your sleeping face, all peaceful and calm with the grey streaks in your hair and the laugh lines on your face did things to him. you just looked so ethereal, basking in the glow of the morning sunlight, like the reincarnation of aphrodite. and before he knew it, he had a morning wood, quickly scuffling out of bed and towards to bathroom to take care of his problem before you woke up

or when you’re showing him the latest dress you bought, or any clothes really, just peacefully showing him what it looked like on you as you twirled in front of him and gods, you were so breathtaking. all he could do was just nod dumbly like the lovesick puppy he was as a weak ‘uh-huh’ escaped his lips. oh, the little pooch of your tummy, the rolls on your sides, the love handle, the hipdip — whatever these things were called, good god, he wanted nothing more than to just slink down from the couch onto his knees and politely ask to bury his face into them. let him touch them, the little fats on your body, the rolls, the pooch. he’ll lovingly caress them and your stretch marks and everything with reverence

or when you’re testing your new lipsticks on his face, applying the newly bought make up on your gorgeous, kissable lips before smooching him on the face, turning him more and more into a painting of your doing while he drunkenly sits there on the couch with a stupid fucking smile. oh no, this one wasn’t kiss proof either, better try all of them and see if they’re kiss proof too. oh he was covered in lipstick? don’t worry, nothing big. he’s just too busy admiring you and occasionally wondering how the color would look in its perfect kiss shape on his leaking dick while you mocked him for being a horny dog

maybe he slipped up one day, instead of thanking you usually with the sweet nickname after you had done fixing his tie for him, just idiotically smiling at you as a “thank you, mistress” dropped from his lips. an immediate freeze and after a moment, his face was turning red with an embarrassed apology after apology while he hid his face into the crook of your neck. not like you minded too much, just laughing and patting him on the back, reassuring him that it was fine, mistakes happened. though, you won’t lie, it was adorable in the sexy way on how he just let that slip out

ever since that little incident, your sweet boyfriend’s longing grew worse and worse. their hands started to wander more, squeezing, pinching and pawing hopelessly against the fat rolls of your tummy or gripping at your love handles with an eagerness of a puppy whenever they came to stand behind you while you made dinner. damn near sliding towards you on their knees to help you put on your shoes before you leave the house for work and have mercy on him if you choose to wear high heels that day, placing your heel between his thighs while his other hand gently guided your leg by the ankle to slip into the heel. he thought he was being slick but no, you caught it all. of course you would, he was damn near whimpering nowadays every time you come home all exhausted and collapse onto the couch, scrambling over and getting on his knees to massage your tired feet while his adam’s apple bobs while staring at your meaty thighs, mindlessly nodding and going “uh-huh” while you ramble about your day while your pretty boyfriend just wishes he was that goddamn stockings, snug around your legs

it was during one of these days that you decided to take pity on him — how could you not? his pathetic puppy eyes had you wrapped around his fingers — moving your leg out of his hands and instead hooking it over his shoulder. pulling him closer by your leg towards your thighs while you shift down more to place yourself closer to the edge of the couch. pretty eyes blinked up at you with a stuttered, “h-honey…?”, hands placed on his knees like the good boy he is while a pretty pink color bloomed on his cheeks. you just gave a roll of your hips on the couch, a sweet smile and a “my thighs feel exhausted too. help me out?” and he was immediately nodding his head vigorously, shaky hands grabbing and gently squeezing the fat while his breath grew shaky. god, he could see the lace edges of the stockings under your skirt now! and even more, he could see your panties. god help him, he was growing hard in his boxers like some stupid teenager seeing a woman’s boobs all over again

“a little bit up” you called out, watching his reactions with the same smile, lipstick covered lips spread wide on your face. your boyfriend whined instead of following through with your words, peering up at you through his pretty lashes. his hands pushed your skirt up, enough to take in your panties and stockings in full view as he gulped down his saliva, muttering out a weak “m-may i taste you, ma’am?”. the honorific instead of your name or the usual patnames just seem to fall from his lips so easily now, eyes constantly switching from your pretty face and colored lips and to your underwear and the fat of your thighs covered by the heavenly nylon

“you wanna taste me, pup?” you hum out, voice like a sweet honey or the finest red wine and have mercy on him, the idiot merely lost it right then and there, ready to lose any sense of dignity as he nods his head with an obedient “yes ma’am, i would like to taste you ma’am”. you simply cooed at his eager words, the leg thrown over his shoulder pulling him closer to the couch, closer to the heaven between your thighs as you balance your feet on his shoulder. he whined again at how you were teasing him, refusing to give him a solid answer and just toying with him like he was a canary trapped in the fangs of a cat. but he might as well be a willing canary that flew into the jaws of the feline with the way he cutely adds a final, “please allow me, ma’am…?” and damn near cheers a loud excited whoop when you nod at him, giving him the green lights

your boyfriend lets out a stuttered breath through his lips when he pulls down your panties, even folding them sweetly and placing them beside your legs on the couch like the sweet boy he is, when he sees your pussy, covered in the same color of bush as your hair. gulping again, he trails gentle kisses up your legs, from the lace ends of your stockings and up the bare skin of your legs, making sure to kiss the stretch marks he comes across before he finally nuzzles his face into your bushy mound. weakly, he licks at your folds, as if this was his first time eating out a woman and occasionally suckling at your clit. he was just so adorable with how he tenderly kisses and suckles and licks at you, like he had never felt the touch of a woman. so when your hands grasps at his hair, scratching at his scalp once before pulling him flush against your pussy, he downright moans against you before diving in like it was his final food. slurping at your wetness and eating you out like you were his last meal while his two fingers pushed your labia open, whimpering out words of “t-thank you, ma’am, thank yo-you for letting me touch you” and “you taste mmgh so sweet, ma’am.. i aamgh l-love your pussy juice s’much”

when you do cum into his mouth after his excited tongue and finger fucking you open, he opens his mouth eagerly to taste every single drop of your sweet pussy juice, already addicted to the taste and scent of it from just a single taste. his fingers continue to massage your soft walls, thumb swirling over your clit in gentle motions while his free hand pushed down on your lower tummy, pleading you to cum again and to get his face wet with your slick like he was some pathetic toy for you. only when you patted his head at last with a “good job, pretty boy” did he pull his fingers away — albeit with heavy disappointment — as he drawled out “th-thank you, missus. i’m glad to be-be of use to my missus” with his lips and jaws dripping with some of your cum. you laughed at seeing that look on his face, pupils blown wide, cheeks flushed and his hair a mess with your slick all over his jaw. seems like your pretty boy was a messy eater

first time writing smut for my female readers, this was truly a shift in my writing ngl. as you can tell from the smuts on my blog, im more comfortable writing for a gender neutral reader, top reader and im sure most — or at least half — of my readers feel comfortable with that norm as well. but lately cough cough a bit of rp on c.ai with cod character bots with my older oc cough cough ive gotten addicted to the thought of being an older woman and having a younger man just whipped for you and decided to challenge myself with writing for a femdom reader. and by younger, i mean within a decade of years age gap, preferably within 5 years even. nothing too serious. hope you all liked this small brainrot and the dividers belong to @/cafekitsune

[vuesitalo]

Lend me a hand.

Kang No-eul x fem!reader

ִ ˚｡‧ ୨୧ ‧ ˚ ♡

synopsis: you make a post on rednote asking people to send hand pics and one in particular stands out <33

a/n: this is literally inspired by a TikTok post I saw on TikTok abt asking rednote girls to post their hand pics to I wrote abt it :3

warnings: suggestive!!! ^_^

You’re lying in bed, half-draped in your sheets, scrolling through Rednote with lazy amusement. Tonight the timeline is a real trainwreck—thirst traps, midnight confessions, and way too many purse-rattling, blurry mirror selfies. Nothing new. Nothing interesting. Just the usual blend of chaos and thirst, a digital void where people throw out their most reckless thoughts and hope someone bites.

Your thumb rests on the record key and without much deliberation, you push it down.

"Alright, I’m just gonna say it—hands are hot. Like, good hands? Nice veins, rings, long fingers? Yeah. If you have them, drop the proof below. Do the right thing."

You smirk at the camera before stopping the recording. The caption practically writes itself:

“Hand lovers, rise up. Don’t disappoint me.”

With a swipe of the finger, you share and drop your phone on the bed. It’s not that deep. Just a few minutes of distraction, maybe a good chuckle, maybe, someone quite rare actually flourishes.

But you don’t expect anything serious.

Certainly not what happens next.

The next time you glance at your inbox five minutes later your stomach somersaults just watching an email.

One reply stands out among the sea of comments.

@noxx: I got you.

Your heart stutters. Your skin prickles.

Attached is a photo.

You hesitate, pulse hammering as you tap on it.

As soon as it loads, all the breath is gone from your trachea.

No-eul’s hand.

Lying casually on a dark background, effortless—as if she just snapped the picture without thinking. However, it is the fine details that make your thighs to be squashed.

The faint veins tracing over her knuckles. The long fingers, elegant and deceptively relaxed. The harsh opposite of her black-lacquered nails ontop of her flesh, broken just enough to ruin you. The rings—silver, a little worn, snug on her fingers, the kind that would feel heavy if they ghosted over your skin.

Your mouth goes dry.

Oh.

You shift on your bed, pressing your thighs together, trying not to let a damn picture of her hand affect you like this—but it’s already too late.

Another notification pops up, making your stomach lurch.

A DM.

Noxx: Did I pass?

You inhale sharply, fingers hesitating over the keyboard.

Your body is already betraying you—too warm, too aware, too restless.

You: Are you trying to kill me?

The typing bubble appears.

Noxx: Depends. Is it working?

Heat licks at your skin.

You bite your lip, acutely aware of how you lie there, forgotten, dreaming about her hands in a way that, frankly, they really shouldn't both excite bore you.

You: You should be arrested for this.

Noxx: For what? Sending a picture?

Your breathing is now shallow, your body is stiff enough that the task is too trivial. But it’s not simple at all, is it?

Because she knows.

She knows.

Your fingers tremble slightly as you type.

You: For knowing exactly what you’re doing.

A pause.

Noxx: Oh? And what exactly am I doing?

Your stomach tightens.

Your thighs press together harder, frustration mounting because she’s baiting you, and it’s working. She wants you to say it, to admit it.

And God, you want to.

You hesitate.

You: You’re making it hard to think straight.

A longer pause this time.

Noxx: Interesting choice of words.

You swallow hard.

You should walk away from this. You should avoid her and pretend that one and only photograph did just pull everything apart.

But—

Another message.

Noxx: Should I send another? Maybe a video this time?

Your breath catches.

Your body reacts before your brain does, heat curling low in your stomach at just the thought of seeing those hands move.

For a second, you stall (long enough to think about turning away from the cliff's drop), but your fingers are already flying across the keyboard.

You: Show me.

The very second you click the "send", you swear you lose the ability to breathe.

The typing bubble appears. Then disappears.

Your pulse is a thunderous rhythm in your ears.

Then, finally—

A new message pops up.

Noxx: Don’t say I didn’t warn you.

Attachment: Video

You hesitate, fingers trembling as you press play.

The screen opens to her hand—slow, deliberate movements as her fingers flex and curl, stretching in a way that feels way too intentional. The lighting is moody, casting sharp shadows that emphasize every detail—the veins, the tendons shifting beneath her skin, the glint of silver rings catching the light.

A your breath comes to a standstill, she pulls her thumb across her palm in a slow, teasing caress, a motion that is threatening.

Then, the audio kicks in.

A soft, amused hum. Low, rich, dangerous.

"That flustered already?"

Your stomach drops.

Your entire body burns.

Sudden feeling of warm current races through your body and hips close to each other while tremor runs up your back.

Oh. Oh.

You were not prepared for this.

Your fingers shake and you struggle to type a response.

You: You’re actually evil.

The typing bubble appears immediately.

Noxx: And yet, you’re still watching.

You suck in a sharp breath, pulse hammering.

Because she’s right.

And you have a very big problem.

<33

[internet-rat]

Taking a bath together

Aemond Targaryen x Wife!Reader

No warnings - just fluff

I just want him to feel loved and happy, okay?? ;_: He is a sweetie pie even if he does a little killing sometimes.

The warm water of the bath enveloped you both, steam rising and curling in the quiet air of the chamber, scented with the subtle hint of lavender from the bath oils. The large, marble tub was a luxurious expanse, allowing comfortable space for the both of you, a private sanctum isolated from the rest of the world and its demands. You and your husband, Aemond, preferred bathing alone and without any servants to assist you.

Warm water sloshed about as you cleaned your his silky pale silver hair. With Aemond sitting between your legs, his head tilted back slightly to let you have access to his hair, his guard was lowered in a way few ever saw. The absence of his eyepatch revealed the vulnerable side of a man typically known for his strength and intimidating presence, highlighting a rare intimacy shared between you alone. He was always gentle and sweet towards you, so different from how he came off to the courts and the world.

As you lathered his hair with soap, your fingers massaged his scalp, the action caring and methodical. Your voice, a gentle murmur, broke the silence, carrying affection and genuine admiration. "Your hair is so lovely, my sweet..."

Aemond's muscles, which so often held tension and readiness for combat, relaxed under your touch. The prince, the warrior, the brooding Targaryen—those identities faded into the background as he simply became a man at peace, indulging in the rare luxury of being cared for. You wanted to do your utmost to make sure he felt loved and cared for, and it seemed like it was taking effect.

"Your touch is as soothing as the Maiden's song," he replied, his voice a low hum that vibrated against your skin. A soft sigh escaped him, a sound of utter contentment that filled the space between you with a resonance more articulate than words could ever be.

Your tone took on a playful edge, teasing him gently while simultaneously offering praise, a balance that spoke to the depth of your relationship. "My, how poetic you are~ What have you been reading?" you inquired, the smile audible in your voice, a gentle prod at his scholarly habits.

Aemond leaned back further into you, the warm water and your closeness lulling him into a state of tranquility he found nowhere else. "A collection of verses from old Valyria," he admitted, a hint of sheepishness in his voice, revealing that even a prince could have his indulgences. "There’s a beauty in the old words, a power and grace that I find... comforting."

His hand rose to meet yours, fingers intertwining as he held your hand against his chest, a silent expression of gratitude for your teasing, your care, and everything you did to make him feel loved and at ease. Your laughter and light-hearted queries were as much a part of his reprieve as the soothing waters that enveloped him.

Aemond rested back against you, the solid warmth of his body pressed into the softness of your form, an intimate juxtaposition of strength and tenderness. With careful affection, you bent forward to press a kiss to the sapphire that sat in place of his missing eye, a gesture of acceptance and reverence for all that he was, imperfections included.

"Very good, my prince... You read such varied books and texts. Poetry is just as valuable as history," you murmured into the steam-kissed air. "Your diligent reading shall temper your mind into that of a great ruler." Through your words, you offered not just praise but a recognition of his efforts to grow beyond the warrior the world often mistook him for.

He could feel the vibration of your voice against his back as you spoke, the underlying message clear: he was valued not only for his title and the power he wielded, but for the depth of his intellect and character. A soft, pleased little "hmm" noise escaped him, a sound that held within it both gratitude and a burgeoning sense of pride.

Aemond turned his head slightly, trying to catch a glimpse of your face from over his shoulder, his good eye searching for yours. "With you by my side, I have no doubt of what I might become," he said earnestly, his voice steady and sure as the pull of the tide. "You see in me the king I am yet to be, and for that vision, I am eternally grateful." He had a soft smile and a devoted look in his eye.

As Aemond’s gaze met yours, searching and sincere, you leaned in to close the distance between you, your lips meeting his in a gentle, loving kiss. It was a simple act, yet it spoke volumes—the touch of your mouth against his was a seal to the promise of your words, a silent reassurance of your faith in him.

The softness of the kiss, coupled with the intimacy of the moment, pulled a reaction from him that was both rare and endearing. His cheeks flushed with a rosy hue, the blush spreading across his fair skin. Even a man of Aemond Targaryen's stature, for all his fierce reputation, was not immune to the tender affections of the one he loved, especially not when delivered so unexpectedly and with such genuine emotion.

[basset-babe]

five times: the one point five.

pairing: benedict bridgerton x fem!reader

warnings: none but gossip yet again

word count: 2.9k+

a/n: please do send me a message or comment down if you would like to be added on the succeeding taglists for the five times series! here is 1.5 times with ben. enjoy! thanks loves <3! (also, pls do imagine ben holding a graft rose for this one heh)

five times series: the first. the one point five. the second. the third. the three point five. the fourth. at last. text divider from @heavenlayt and pattern banner from @cafekitsune thank you!

the one point five time.

In the hours of sunlight, callers have flooded the Y/L/N drawing room. All bringing gifts and performances in hopes to win the favourable yes of the season's paragon, Miss Y/N Y/L/N. The grand parlor, adorned with exquisite tapestries and sparkling chandeliers, buzzed with the lively hum of conversations and the tinkling laughter of society’s elite. Lavish bouquets of rare, fragrant flowers filled the room, their heady scent mingling with the aroma of freshly brewed tea and delectable pastries arrayed on silver platters.

Gentlemen, dressed in their finest attire, lined up to present their offerings to Miss Y/L/N, each one more extravagant than the last. Some brought intricate jewelry, glittering with precious stones, while others offered rare books, hoping to appeal to her reputed love of literature. Musicians performed virtuoso pieces on the grand piano, their fingers dancing over the keys in a bid to capture her attention through the power of melody. Poets recited verses composed in her honor, their words dripping with adoration and longing.

Miss Y/L/N, the epitome of grace and poise, received each suitor with a warm smile and a gracious word. Her eyes, sparkling with intelligence and kindness, moved across the room, acknowledging the efforts and intentions of each visitor. Her charm was such that even a simple nod or a softly spoken thank you felt like a cherished treasure to the eager suitors.

The hour had struck past 1 in the afternoon when, hopefully, the last caller of the day had bid his farewells. The Y/L/N drawing room, which had been a whirlwind of activity, now began to settle into a quieter, more contemplative atmosphere. The sunlight streaming through the large windows cast a bright hue over the room, highlighting the opulent furnishings and the array of gifts that had been presented to Miss Y/N Y/L/N throughout the morning.

Servants moved gracefully, clearing away the remnants of the lavish spread of refreshments while ensuring that every detail of the room remained immaculate. The air was still fragrant with the scent of roses, lilies, and other exotic flowers that had been brought by admirers, creating a heady, almost intoxicating environment.

"As much as I do love botanicals, all these flowers have turned obnoxious to my senses, Grandmama," Y/N sighed, feeling the urge to slouch on the couch. Her frame was poised elegantly despite her weariness, a testament to her upbringing and the endless etiquette lessons she had endured.

Her grandmother, the Viscountess Y/L/N, reentered the room with a look of satisfaction mixed with maternal concern. "My dear," she said softly, "you have conducted yourself admirably. The attention you have garnered is truly remarkable, but alas, this be the trials of being the season's paragon," she said with jest. "A small price to pay for such adoration and the opportunities it presents."

Y/N allowed herself a small, rueful smile. "It has been a most eventful day. I do hope I have shown the proper appreciation to each caller." She gently plucked a stray petal from her gown, its soft texture a stark contrast to her current mood.

"Rest assured, my dear, that this too shall pass," her grandmother replied soothingly. "Soon, you will look back on these days with fondness, perhaps even in laughter."

Y/N nodded, though she wasn't entirely convinced. She admired her grandmother's ability to see the positive in any situation. Lady Y/L/N had once been the toast of her own social season, and her wisdom was hard-earned through years of navigating similar waters.

"Would it be terribly improper to open a window, Grandmama?" Y/N asked, her eyes drifting towards the heavy drapes that concealed the afternoon breeze. "I believe a bit of fresh air might revive my spirits."

The Viscountess chuckled softly. "Not at all, my dear. In fact, I think it would do us both good." She motioned to a nearby maid, who quickly moved to pull back the drapes and open the window, allowing a refreshing breeze to sweep into the room. The cool air carried with it the scents of the garden outside, a welcome contrast to the overwhelming floral arrangements within.

Y/N took a deep breath, feeling instantly more at ease. "Thank you, Grandmama. That is much better."

"Now, my dear," Mrs. Y/L/N said, her tone becoming more serious, "while you have a moment of peace, tell me—was there any caller today who truly caught your eye?"

Y/N considered the question carefully. There had been many suitors, each with their own merits. Some had been charming, others earnest, and a few rather boastful. But it was not that she minded all these suitors; it was who she looked forward to that truly occupied her thoughts. It had been this Bridgerton man she'd hoped would be calling on her the entire morning. Unfortunately, he had not been seen yet in this drawing room.

"Y/N, my dear, are you still with us?" Lady Y/L/N's gentle voice broke through her reverie.

"Yes, Grandmama," Y/N replied, a slight blush coloring her cheeks. "I was merely thinking."

"About anyone in particular?" her grandmother inquired with a knowing smile.

Y/N hesitated for a moment, then decided there was no point in hiding her thoughts from her perceptive grandmother. "To be quite honest, I was hoping to see Mr. Bridgerton today.. well as of this morn," she admitted. "I fear he may have been otherwise engaged."

"Ah, Mr. Bridgerton," Lady Y/L/N said thoughtfully. "A fine young man, from a respected family. It is no wonder you look forward to his call. Perhaps he will still make an appearance."

Y/N nodded, though she knew the likelihood was slim as the noon wore on. She took another deep breath of the fresh air now circulating through the room, trying to shake off her disappointment. The season was long, and there would be other opportunities to see him again.

"There was Sir Nicholas Deveraeux. He was quite charming," Y/N remarked.

"He comes from a good family as well, but I've heard his uncle," Her grandmother leaned in conspiratorially, "envies the crown."

Y/N laughed at the Viscountess' antics. "Grandmama, that's quite scandalous. Wherever did you hear such a thing?" Y/N laughed.

"Deborah told me," her grandmother said, motioning to her maid. Y/N couldn't help but laugh at the notion of her grandmama indulging in gossip. "But I must tell you, I keep my options open still," she stated matter-of-factly, regaining my composure.

"Even though you are clearly captivated by Mr. Bridgerton's smile," Her grandmother teased. "It is wise to keep your options open, my dear, so as not to appear too eager for any one gentleman's attentions."

"Indeed," Y/N thought to herself, "it is prudent not to seem desperate and helpless this early in the season. After all, the season is just beginning, and there will be many more opportunities for maybe much more meaningful encounters."

The older woman patted the young lady's hand reassuringly. "You are a clever girl, my Y/N. Your charm and grace will surely attract many suitors. Just remember to enjoy the process and not to place all your hopes on one gentleman, no matter how enchanting his smile may be."

Y/N nodded, feeling a renewed sense of determination. The season was an adventure, and she was ready to embrace it with an open heart and mind. As her grandmama said, there would be many chances to find the right match, and she intends to savor every moment.

Just as she was about to resign herself to the wait, a soft knock sounded at the drawing room door. Both Y/N and her grandmother turned their heads in surprise as the butler entered.

"Forgive the interruption, ma'am," he said with a slight bow. "But there is one more caller who has just arrived."

Y/N's heart skipped a beat as the butler stepped aside, revealing none other than Mr. Bridgerton himself. He stood at the threshold, his confident demeanor softened by a warm, sincere smile.

"Good afternoon, Lady Y/L/N, Miss Y/L/N," he greeted them, bowing respectfully. "I apologize for my tardiness. I hope I am not intruding."

Lady Y/L/N's eyes twinkled with amusement as she replied, "Not at all, Mr. Bridgerton. We are delighted to see you."

Y/N felt her spirits lift instantly, her earlier fatigue forgotten. "Indeed, Mr. Bridgerton," she said, her smile reflecting the genuine pleasure she felt. "Your timing is impeccable."

Mr. Bridgerton's eyes met hers, and for a moment, it felt as though they were the only two people in the room. "I am glad to hear that, Miss Y/L/N," he said. "I have been looking forward to our meeting."

As he stepped further into the room, bringing with him an air of warmth and possibility, Y/N knew that this visit was just the beginning. The season held many uncertainties, but in that moment, with Mr. Bridgerton's presence brightening the drawing room, she felt a renewed sense of hope and excitement for what was to come.

He walked closer, offering his wrapped gift with a warm smile. "I know of your love of botanicals. Although, I wasn't sure what to get, but I opted for a grafted Rosa Falstaff from our estate's own gardens."

Y/N's eyes widened with surprise and delight as she reached out to accept the potted rose. "A Rosa Falstaff? From your family's gardens?" she exclaimed, her fingers gently tracing the leaves and delicate blooms.

"Yes," Benedict nodded, his gaze softening as he watched her reaction. "I thought it would be a fitting addition to your collection, considering your fondness for floriculture."

"Thank you, Mr. Bridgerton. This is truly truly thoughtful of you." Y/N's eyes lit up as she accepted the graft, appreciating the gesture.

Mr. Bridgerton smiled, a hint of relief and pleasure in his eyes. "I'm glad you like them, Miss Y/L/N. I thought something from home might be more personal and meaningful than the usual offerings."

Mrs. Y/L/N, observing the interaction with a pleased expression, decided to give the young couple some space. "If you'll excuse me, I have some correspondence to attend to," she said, rising gracefully. "Please, Mr. Bridgerton, make yourself comfortable."

As her grandmother left the room, Y/N gestured for Mr. Bridgerton to sit beside her on the elegant settee. "It's so refreshing to receive something so genuine," she said, placing the graft gently on the table beside them. "Tell me more about your estate's gardens. They must be quite beautiful."

Mr. Bridgerton settled into the seat, his expression brightening as he began to speak. "Our gardens are indeed a sight to behold, especially in the spring. We have a variety of flowers, from different roses to lavender, and even some more exotic species like that which my mother is particularly fond of. Each section of the garden has its own unique charm and character."

Y/N listened intently, her interest piqued not just by the subject but by the way he spoke with such genuine affection for his home. "It sounds enchanting," she said. "I would love to see it someday."

He smiled, clearly pleased by her response. "I would be honored to show you around Aubrey Hall, Miss Y/L/N. Perhaps you could offer some advice on expanding our collection of botanicals."

"I would be delighted," Y/N replied, her smile matching his. "There are always new species to discover and cultivate. It would be a pleasure to share that with someone who appreciates it as much as I do."

As they continued to talk, the conversation flowed effortlessly, touching on various topics of mutual interest. The room seemed to fade away, leaving just the two of them engrossed in their exchange. The connection they felt was palpable, a promising hint of what could be a deep and meaningful relationship.

The noon sun cast a golden glow through the open window, bathing them in warm light. It was as if the world outside had conspired to create the perfect moment, one that Y/N would cherish as the beginning of something truly special.

"Why not a change of scenery, Miss Y/N? May I enchant you to a walk with me this afternoon?" Mr. Bridgerton asked, his eyes sparkling with anticipation.

Y/N felt a flutter of excitement at his proposal, though very different from norm indeed. The thought of a leisurely walk, away from the confines of the drawing room and amidst the fresh air and beauty of the outdoors, was undeniably appealing. She glanced at her grandmother, who had discreetly lingered near the doorway.

Mrs. Y/L/N, catching her granddaughter's hopeful expression, gave a subtle nod of approval. "I think that sounds like a splendid idea, Mr. Bridgerton," she said. "A bit of fresh air through my garden will do you both good."

"Thank you, Grandmama," Y/N replied, her smile widening. She turned back to Mr. Bridgerton, her eyes meeting his with a mix of excitement and gratitude. "I would be delighted to join you for a walk."

Mr. Bridgerton offered his arm, which Y/N took with a graceful nod. Together, they made their way out of the drawing room and through the grand halls of the Y/L/N residence. The household staff, now accustomed to the comings and goings of numerous callers, discreetly stepped aside, offering polite smiles as the pair passed.

As they stepped out into the sunlight, the warmth of the afternoon embraced them. The gardens of the Y/L/N estate stretched out before them, a riot of color and fragrance that promised a delightful stroll. Birds chirped melodiously, adding a charming soundtrack to their walk.

"Your gardens are truly beautiful, Miss Y/L/N," Mr. Bridgerton remarked as they began their promenade. "It's easy to see where your love for botanicals comes from."

"Thank you, Mr. Bridgerton," Y/N replied, her gaze sweeping over the well-tended flower beds and neatly trimmed hedges. "I find great joy in spending time here. There's something so peaceful about being surrounded by nature."

They walked in comfortable silence for a few moments, taking in the beauty around them. Y/N's lady's maid chaperoning behind. The gravel path crunched softly underfoot, and a gentle breeze rustled the leaves overhead.

"I must admit," Mr. Bridgerton said, breaking the silence, "I was quite nervous about coming here today. I wasn't sure if my gift would be well-received."

Y/N looked up at him, surprised. "You needn't have worried," she assured him. "Your gift was one of the most endearing ones I have received. It speaks volumes about your character and your genuine interest. Quite a change in the morn's most fragrant bouquets. All exquisite but a tad bit too much on my senses." I gestured towards my nose.

He smiled, clearly relieved. "I'm glad to hear that, Miss Y/L/N. I hoped to make a meaningful impression."

"You certainly have," she replied warmly. "And now, here we are, enjoying a lovely walk together. It seems your efforts have been rewarded."

As they continued their walk, their conversation flowed effortlessly, touching on topics both serious and lighthearted. They shared stories, laughed together, and discovered common interests. The connection between them grew stronger with each passing moment, the bond of friendship and potential courtship becoming more tangible.

"So, do tell me more about you, Mr. Bridgerton."

"Do call me Benedict, if you please. Provided, of course, that you feel comfortable and we are beyond the earshot of your lady's maid." his eyebrows raise in suggestive jest.

Y/N chuckled, a twinkle of amusement in her eyes. "Very well, Benedict. You may address me by Y/N as well."

Benedict smiled, clearly pleased by her informal, now more familiar, address. "My days are usually spent at home, but sometimes, I spend my time in my art studio at the academy."

"Yes, you've mentioned of yourself an artist, I remember." Y/N remarked, intrigued. "That is fascinating. What sort of art do you create?"

Benedict's face lit up with enthusiasm as he began to describe his passion. "I work primarily with oils on canvas, though I do enjoy sketching as well. There's something incredibly satisfying about capturing a moment or a feeling in a piece of art. It’s a way to express myself that words sometimes fail to achieve."

Y/N listened intently, her admiration growing. "I would love to see your work someday. It must be wonderful to have such a creative outlet."

"It is," Benedict agreed, a note of pride in his voice. "And I would be honored to show you my studio and some of my pieces. Perhaps I could even paint your portrait, if you would allow me."

Y/N blushed at the thought, a mixture of shyness and excitement. "I would be delighted, Benedict. Though I must warn you, I may not be the most patient of sitters."

Benedict laughed, his eyes sparkling with amusement. "I’m sure we would manage just fine. And who knows, you might find the experience enjoyable."

"I look forward to it," Y/N said, her smile reflecting her genuine interest. "But tell me more about your family. I have heard much about the Bridgertons, but I would love to hear it from your perspective."

Benedict's expression softened as he spoke of his family. "We are a large, close-knit group. There are eight of us siblings, and we were all raised with a strong sense of duty and love seeing my late father and mother attend to our household. My mother, Violet, is the heart of our family. She has always encouraged us to pursue our passions and support each other."

"That sounds wonderful," Y/N said, touched by his words. "Family is so important. I imagine it must be lively with so many siblings."

"It certainly is," Benedict replied with a grin. "There is never a dull moment at Bridgerton House. We have our share of disagreements, of course, but we always come together in the end. All the laughter and camaraderie make it worthwhile."

Y/N felt a warm connection forming between them, their shared values and interests creating a bond that felt both natural and exciting. "I would love to meet them all someday, even so now that your brother has found himself a wife. Such exciting things!" she said.

"And they would be delighted to meet you," Benedict assured her. "I can already tell that you would fit right in."

"He thinks of me as someone who would fit with his family? I could feel my heart flutter," Y/N thought, the realization sending a warm, thrilling sensation through her.

As they continued their conversation, the afternoon sun began to dip lower in the sky, casting a golden glow over the garden. The hours had slipped away unnoticed, a testament to the ease and enjoyment they found in each other's company.

Eventually the day had struck shy of 3 at afternoon and they made their way back to the main house, the promise of future meetings and shared experiences hanging in the air. As they reached the steps, Benedict turned to Y/N, his expression earnest and hopeful.

"Thank you for a wonderful afternoon, Y/N," he said. "I look forward to our next meeting."

"As do I, Benedict," Y/N replied, her heart full of anticipation. "Until then."

With a final, warm smile, Benedict took his leave, leaving Y/N with a sense of happiness and a fluttering hope for the future. The day had been more than she could have imagined, and she felt a deep sense of gratitude for the connection they had begun to forge.

taglist: @novausstuff @pussyslayerhd @amoosarte

[amywritesthings]

hi amy!!

you have such a talent for writing and I love your works, they’re just the best!! i hope you’ve been feeling better amidst your recovery too, sending you my love🫶🏼🫶🏼

if you’re still taking requests for your endo awareness month, I wondered if you’d have any interest in doing a fic where reader does Levi’s hair for him or vice versa? Like just a quick trim or even styling it LOL. I find doing someone’s hair to be such an intimate and sweet bonding moment and thought it would potentially be a cute addition to one of ur series or just a stand alone blurb!! thanks for considering, stay happy and healthy❤️🥰

-E 🤗🤗

HELLO, E!!! So sorry for the delay with this very kind message and adorable request!! It sparked my inspiration tonight, so here’s a little ficlet under the cut (set in the universe of silver underground, because this feels very james/levi to me - hope that’s okay!) xo

pairing: levi ackerman x f!underground city reader word count: 600+ warnings: none, just some teasing & rare teenage fluff set in the underground city!

“It’s not brain surgery.”

The second the words leave his lips, your eyes — acutely focused on a wayward strand of black hair that’s much longer than the rest — narrow to a glare.

And when your eyes meet his, the corner of his lip twitches.

Smug bastard.

Clipping the piece of wet hair between your index and middle finger, you point the tip of the small scissors menacingly at his nose.

“It’s about to be if you don’t let me finish this up.”

“Harsh.”

“You started it.”

He exhales a gentle huff akin to a tch. “Fair.”

After living with Levi and Furlan for two years — not to mention Isabel for less than one — it isn’t uncommon to take turns cutting each other’s hair. Just like any other clean-up chore, it’s easier when someone else can eye the back of your head for you.

(Though the razor you’ve been using to fade Levi’s undercut is dulling. He might need to start growing it out, wild, like your other cohorts.)

As much as Levi trusts them with his life, though — he specifically requests for your hand. According to him, he’s particular about who holds a blade up to his face.

Furlan has never taken offense. 

Isabel, as always, seems to side-eye the specificity.

You say nothing.

(You always say nothing, especially when it comes to him.)

“Apparently people pay for these up on the surface,” you continue as you snip the strand, making sure it’s even with the other side you’ve trimmed up.

“What, haircuts?”

“Yeah.”

“Sounds stupid to throw coins at.”

“I wouldn’t say it was stupid,” you retort airily as you continue to measure the length of the fringe in his face. “Not when you have the coin to do it. I think I’d shell out.”

It’s grown long, almost too long — if he kept putting this off for another week, then it stands to reason he could use one of Isabel’s hair ties. Even his undercut has grown out, its edges licking the nape of his neck. 

If anything, it makes him look boyish; a stolen childhood returned.

His abrupt question cuts through the warmth spreading through your chest. “Why?”

“Because sometimes you cut unevenly.”

Managing to say such a flippant statement out without giving away your joke is a mighty feat, but you stay strong—

And if the abrupt offense tightening in his face is any indicator, Levi’s taken the playful bait. His eyes narrow in return, and in an act of defiance, he blows the long, wet strand from his face.

“Excuse me?”

“Hey!” you yelp with feigned annoyance. “Rude. I’m gonna have to do that section again.”

“Not my problem,” he replies without skipping a beat. “Say it. I’ve never cut anyone’s hair unevenly.”

“Are you sure?”

“James.”

Although the front of his hair is still long, you can see the way his brows slide high to his hairline with the expectations of a surrender.

“I’ve never.”

“Uh-huh.”

Pursing your lips to avoid a smile, you comb the front of his hair back to its original state before cutting a few of the final pieces, finally revealing most of Levi’s blue-gray gaze once more.

“Never.”

You can see the gears turning.

His eyes shimmer as they take yours in — left, right, then left again — before the realization hits. The intensity of his expression softens, though the ghost of a scowl remains.

“You’re fucking with me.”

“Only a little,” you confess, flicking the freshly-cut lock to the small wastebin on the floor by his boot, “so stop moving before you end up with a cut as lopsided as Furlan's."

There: a tiny smile finally forms on his lips.

"Heard."

[gpcwsl]

Alessia Russo x Reader

- Written in silver -

WC: 909

MasterList

Warnings: short?

Song: You belong to me - Taylor Swift

My bday was yesterday, thought I could write a fiction for ‘Readers’ bday. Hope you enjoy!

The crisp March air nipped at your cheeks as you made your way into the Arsenal training facility, excitement bubbling in your chest. Not just for the match ahead but for the entire day itself—it was your birthday. You had already been bombarded with messages from family and friends, but the real celebration would be at the game. Arsenal had a late afternoon kick-off at 17:30, and you couldn’t think of a better way to spend your special day than playing the sport you loved.

Stepping inside, you were greeted by the familiar buzz of the team preparing for the pre-match meeting. You exchanged quick greetings, laughing at Lotte’s attempt to juggle an orange as you made your way to your usual seat—right next to Alessia Russo.

“Happy birthday, trouble,” Alessia greeted with a grin, her blue eyes sparkling with something you couldn’t quite place.

“Thanks, Less,” you replied, dropping into your seat with a content sigh.

Alessia had been your best friend since she joined the club, always by your side whether you needed a partner for extra training or just someone to binge-watch terrible reality TV with. If there was one person who made every day brighter, it was her.

Before you could say anything more, Rénne Slegers stepped to the front, signaling for the team to settle. The room quieted as the pre-match meeting began, everyone focused on the tactical slides displaying Arsenal’s game plan. But then, out of nowhere, the screen changed.

A blown-up, truly awful photo of you filled the projector screen.

Groaning, you immediately recognized it—it was a candid from training where you were mid-sprint, mouth slightly open, looking anything but flattering. A chorus of laughter filled the room as you buried your face in your hands.

“Who did this?” you demanded, already suspecting the usual culprits.

Before anyone could answer, the entire team burst into song.

“Happy birthday to you… Happy birthday to you…”

Your face grew warm as all eyes were on you, the embarrassment creeping in. Unable to handle the attention, you turned to the only place that felt safe—Alessia. Without thinking, you leaned into her, letting your forehead rest against her shoulder in an attempt to hide away.

She chuckled softly, the sound sending warmth through your chest, and gently patted your back. “Aww, come on, it’s cute. You should be honored.”

“Less, I will actually fight you,” you muttered, which only made her laugh harder.

The singing finally came to an end, and the meeting resumed, but Alessia didn’t move away. Instead, her arm rested lightly behind you, fingertips grazing your back in a way that felt… different. Not that you had time to dwell on it—there was still a match to win.

Finally, after an intense 90 minutes, Arsenal clinched a narrow 4-3 victory. It wasn’t the prettiest win, but it was a win nonetheless. The team celebrated on the pitch, exhausted but elated, before heading back to the changing room.

As you were toweling off, Alessia caught your eye and tilted her head toward the exit. Curious, you followed her out, away from the noise of the post-match chatter.

“Alright, what’s up?” you asked as she led you into a quieter corner.

Alessia shifted slightly, suddenly looking… nervous. It was rare to see her like this—she was usually so confident, so sure of herself. But now, she was fidgeting, her hands tucked behind her back.

“I, uh… I got you something,” she admitted.

You raised a brow. “Less, you already got me a win, what more could I want?”

She rolled her eyes but smiled nonetheless. “Just—here.”

From behind her, she pulled out a small, neatly wrapped box. The navy blue wrapping paper was smooth, tied with a silver ribbon.

You took it hesitantly, glancing up at her before carefully untying the bow. Inside was a delicate silver bracelet, a thin chain with a single charm hanging from it—a small football, engraved with your initials and hers intertwined.

Your breath hitched slightly. “Less… this is—this is beautiful.”

She shrugged, but you could see the hope in her eyes. “I wanted to get you something special. Something that—” she hesitated, before continuing, “—means something.”

Your fingers traced over the charm, heart pounding just a little too fast. “I love it,” you said sincerely, looking up at her. “Thank you.”

Alessia let out a breath, as if she had been holding it in. “Good. I—I was hoping you’d like it.”

You took a step closer, unable to stop the soft smile forming on your lips. “You’re my best friend, you know that?”

For a moment, something flickered across her expression—something deeper, something unsaid. But then she grinned, her usual playful self returning.

“Yeah, yeah,” she said, nudging your shoulder lightly. “Now, let’s get back before they start thinking we’ve run off together.”

You laughed, slipping the bracelet onto your wrist, where it fit perfectly.

As you walked back to the team, you couldn’t help but wonder—was this really just a birthday gift? Or was there something more behind the way Alessia was looking at you?

Maybe, just maybe, you’d find out soon.

[xoami]

Oooh did toxic Riki…:MAYBE YOU CAN DO reader and Riki are hanging out when she gets a call and it’s from her friend that Riki HATES because they always tell her to leave Riki and he’s toxic

———

THEY DONT KNOW ME. ⋆｡°✩ 𓈒𓈒 It’s not fair…

𖥔 PRECIS. In which, your best friend is not a fan of the boy you love. PAIRING. past player bf!ni-ki x naive whipped gf!reader GENRE. fluff, slight angst(?) WARNINGS. skinship, mild kissing

authors note ୨୧ Ask and you shall receive, sweet pea. 💕

─────────

The warm golden sunlight poured through your bedroom window, casting a soft glow across Ni-ki’s blushed face.

He sat comfortably on your bed, clad in a gray hoodie that hugged his frame just right, the cute little moles that freckled his smooth tanned skin on display, the silver chain that hang across his collarbone peeking out, his fluffy, freshly washed bangs falling into his sleep eyes— a rare sight you couldn’t stop staring at. His lips curled into a lopsided grin as he caught you looking. “What?” he teased, his voice low and playful, leaning closer.

You giggled, shaking your head, and softly tugged at the sleeves of his hoodie. “Nothing… you’re just—”

“Just what?” he pressed, his veiny hands gently brushing over your knee, sending sparks along your skin.

“Too good-looking for your own good,” you murmured shyly, feeling the blush creep up your neck.

He chuckled, his nose brushing against yours before his lips found yours again. It started with sweet, lazy kisses—soft and unrushed, like you had all the time in the world.

His lips were soft and sweet with the strawberry chapstick he wore— a cute little note about him you found adorable when you found out.

His one hand found your waist, the other found your thigh, fingertips skimming lightly underneath your frilly pajama shorts and against your skin as he pulled you closer. The familiar scent of his cologne mingled with the sun-drenched air, making your head feel a little hazy.

You sank deeper into his touch, your fingers tangling in his soft hair, and for a moment, it felt like nothing could disrupt the dreamy bubble you’d created together as you were guided back against the fluffed pillows of your bed.

But then, your phone buzzed loudly on the nightstand, shattering the peace.

You groaned, reaching over to check it, but Ni-ki stopped you, his lips brushing against your jaw.

“Don’t answer it,” he mumbled, his tone almost petulant.

You chuckled softly. “It could be important,” you replied, slipping your hand free to grab the phone. His hand dropped to your thigh, his grip firm but not harsh, a silent protest.

The screen lit up, and you saw the messages flooding in. Your heart sank a little as you read the sender: Bestie 🎀. Ni-ki’s expression hardened immediately.

“Bestie 🎀: (Y/n), I saw your story. Are you serious?”

“Bestie 🎀: I told you he’s no good. You’re gonna get your heart broken.”

You winced, putting the phone down as another message pinged in. Ni-ki’s jaw clenched, his eyes narrowing as he muttered under his breath, “You told them about us?”

“It wasn’t like that,” you said quickly. “I just… posted that picture of us at the arcade yesterday. I didn’t think they’d freak out like this.”

Ni-ki leaned back slightly, crossing his arms. The soft glow of the sunlight still made him look unreal, but his mood had shifted, his playful demeanor replaced by something guarded.

“They don’t even know me,” he said quietly, though there was a bite to his words. “All they know is what people used to say about me.”

You knew what he meant. Ni-ki had a past—a Casanova reputation that still clung to him, even though he hadn’t been that guy in years. He had been the type to charm everyone, leaving a trail of broken hearts behind, but with you, he was different. Softer. Real.

“I don’t care what they say,” you said firmly, reaching for his hand. He hesitated for a moment but let you take it, his fingers curling around yours.

“You’ve shown me who you really are, Ni-ki. That’s all that matters.”

His shoulders relaxed slightly, though the frown on his lips remained. “It just pisses me off,” he muttered, his voice low. “They act like they know us—like they know me. They’re just waiting for me to mess up so they can say, ‘I told you so.’”

“I know,” you said softly, squeezing his hand. “But you’re not going to mess up. And even if you did, I’d still be here. I’m not going anywhere.”

The tension in his face eased as he let out a small sigh, his thumb brushing over your knuckles. “Good,” he said quietly, pulling you closer. “Because I don’t plan on letting you go.”

You leaned into him, your forehead resting against his as you whispered, “You don’t have to.”

The two of you sat there for a moment, the messages forgotten, the world outside fading away. His hands found your waist again, and his lips brushed against yours, warm and soft.

This time, the kisses were slower, sweeter, the golden sunlight wrapping you both in its quiet glow. In his arms, you felt safe—like nothing and no one could touch the love you’d built together.

.

.

.

You just hoped he didn’t prove them right.

[the-griffons-saddlebag]

💎 𝗡𝗲𝘄 𝗶𝘁𝗲𝗺! Bangle of the Starlight Raven
Wondrous item, rare (requires attunement) ___ This silver bangle feels almost cool or wet to the touch. Pressing its tail feathers inward causes its wings to unfurl, allowing you to place the bangle on your wrist or remove it. While wearing the bangle, gravity pulls more loosely against you: your weight is halved, and your normal jumping distance is doubled. While wearing it between dusk and dawn, you’re also under the effects of the “feather fall” spell. The bangle has 7 charges for the following properties. It regains 1d6 + 1 expended charges daily at dusk. The illusory ravens produced by these properties appear like moving constellations of starlight. Using a property requires an action. 𝙎𝙩𝙖𝙧𝙡𝙞𝙜����𝙩 𝙈𝙚𝙨𝙨𝙚𝙣𝙜𝙚𝙧. You can expend 3 of the bangle’s charges to cast the “sending” spell, or 2 charges between dusk and dawn. When you do, an illusory raven instantly appears before the recipient to deliver your message to it. The recipient’s reply is then delivered to you the same way, at which point the raven vanishes. 𝙎𝙩𝙖𝙧𝙨’ 𝙂𝙪𝙞𝙙𝙖𝙣𝙘𝙚. You can expend 2 of the bangle’s charges to cast the “locate object” spell, or 1 charge between dusk and dawn. When you do, an illusory raven appears on your shoulder to direct you toward the object for the duration, provided it’s within range. 𝙎𝙩𝙖𝙧𝙨𝙩𝙧𝙪𝙘𝙠 𝙎𝙬𝙖𝙧𝙢. You can expend 1 or more of the bangle’s charges to cast the “magic missile” spell from it. For 1 charge, you cast the 1st-level version of the spell, or the 2nd-level version of the spell between dusk and dawn. You can increase the spell slot level by one for each additional charge you expend. The missiles appear as the illusory ravens hurtling toward each target. ___ ✨ Patrons get huge perks! Access this and hundreds of other item cards, art files, and compendium entries when you support The Griffon's Saddlebag on Patreon for less than $10 a month!

[sunsets-and-crows]

Is It Casual Now?

pairing: Reader x Sylus

Word count: 7K

---

As you begin to accept your feelings for him, your complicated relationship with Sylus takes a darker turn. As his world unravels before you, desire and fear blur into one. Can you handle the intoxicating power he wields, or will it consume you both?

You miss him while he’s away and end up in a situation you never thought would happen.

tags: PWP porn with plot (if you squint), don/sub themes, a little angst. NSFW content MDNI- please read with caution, AU lads! Warnings ahead!

Sulus has been living in my head rent free since I downloaded this damn game. It’s my first time writing so please let me know what you think!

A few content warnings for y’all please read them carefully!

Dark Themes, Dub-Con elements (particularly with questionable use of Sylus’ Evol. Consent is a big theme though and he does 100% get consent to do anything and everything he does) , Power play, dominance, and submission. It’s Sylus, guys, what did you expect? Violence and Gore (he’s going to kill some people) Child Endangerment (if you squint) Mentions of children being involved in adult situations or discussions (no children are actually harmed in this fic, just a nasty person offering that) Sexually explicit content: they really do be fucking like rabbits. Unprotected Sex: don’t be stupid guys.

The sunset glowed a vibrant orange, illuminating the streets below the penthouse window you were currently looking out of. Letting out a sigh, you basked in the weakened rays’ warmth and pulled the hoodie closer around your nightdress-clad body. Well, his hoodie. The material wrapped around you deliciously and it was probably more expensive than your salary for the month. But that wasn’t what drew you to it in the first place. The smell comforted you. You took another deep breath in at the collar and savoured the musky scent you could only describe as him. He always smelled so good.

Sighing again at the thought, you checked your phone for what felt like the thousandth time that evening. The blank screen almost mocked you. You should’ve been used to this, but each time the silver-haired menace left you here, you couldn’t help but let the worry eat at you.

Today, you’d left the bedroom to find a note in his signature cursive scrawl letting you know that he would be back later. Later. You scoffed at the thought of later. When even was later? Sometimes later meant a few hours, sometimes it meant the afternoon and on rare occasions, later meant a few days.

Before you could let the thought consume you, your phone buzzed in your pocket. You made a grab for it quickly – 1 new message. From Rafayel. You hated yourself for being disappointed.

20:43 Rafayel: where are you honey

You quickly typed a response, some shit about working late or meeting a friend. Honestly, you put so little thought into the reply that guilt crept its way back in, so you deleted it and retyped.

20:50 Me: I’ve taken the day off for some much needed rest and relaxation! I haven’t even had my phone on me. Do you need something Raf? I can talk :)

You replied, you know, like a liar.

20:51 Rafayel: No worries cutie

20:51 Rafayel: I haven’t heard from you all day so naturally I thought you died

20:53 Rafayel: only reason I could think of for your lack of contact.

20:53 Rafayel: rest well cutie

20:53 Rafayel: next time text me back and dun make me wait!

20:55 Rafayel: I’d die without your attention.

His reply was humorous, but you knew deep down he was actually worried about you. You felt a little bad, but at least he was cracking jokes like usual.

Rolling your eyes and huffing out a laugh, you pulled yourself away from the living room window and made your way into the kitchen. The sun had now set completely. You’d been alone all day and frankly the boredom and worry were eating you alive. You needed something to do. You glanced at the clock in the kitchen and sighed again. You hated eating on your own, but now, at 9:00pm, you had no other choice. Your stomach growled loudly in agreement.

You’d stayed at his hotel many times. Sometimes for work near the N109 zone and other times just because he asked you to. Sometimes he’d bring you here on dinners and shopping trips that felt so much like dates, they left your heart fluttering and your brain confused.

This time however, You’d had a particularly bad week and were looking forward to some “quality time” together. He’d picked you up after work directly in front of the Hunter’s Association, your employer. Of course, they didn’t need to know that you were running around with their number one wanted criminal.

If any other man tried to take you back to a hotel room, let alone one he had clearly lived in, you would have laughed and told him to get lost. But this was different. It was clear that he used this penthouse often, but not often enough for it to feel lived in. He’d clearly custom-decorated it, which, you supposed, was a perk of owning the hotel. It didn’t feel like a seedy hotel room - you would’ve left if it had. It felt expensive, like a luxury, to be let into this part of his world.

Your bare feet made soft slapping sounds against the marble of the kitchen floor and the stone sent a chill through your body. You always felt cold without him around. Strange - for someone you were just casually hooking up with. You made your way to the fridge and checked inside. Empty, except for three bottles of white wine and two bottles of sparkling wine. None of this was the food you so desperately needed, but it would do until you decided what to order.

You popped open the bottle of sparkling wine and poured yourself a decent glass, downing the whole thing and pouring another. Just to take the edge off, of course.

You walked back to the living room, full glass and bottle in hand, and plopped down onto the deep red velvet sofa. Picking up the room service menu, you pondered over the many choices. You hastily called down to the front desk and placed your order, hoping it would arrive soon.

Taking another sip of wine, you pulled out your phone and scrolled through your message conversation.

12:54 Me: Any idea when you’ll be back?

Read 12:55

13:31 Me: Should I eat the leftovers for lunch or are you bringing something back?

Read 13:32

15:43 Me: I feel like I should let you know that I ate your half of the leftovers. I was hungry and you aren’t responding.

Read 16:32

18:49 Me: Are you going to be back for dinner?

Read 19:02

20:56 Me: Are you okay?

Read 20:56

20:58 Me:*You unsent a message*

You scoffed at your phone, worry turning to frustration. He clearly had time to check his messages. Why couldn’t he just respond? He was so frustrating!

After aimlessly scrolling through mind-numbing videos for a few minutes, the bell to the penthouse rang. You hopped up and checked through the peephole, rightly assuming your dinner had arrived. You brought it into the living room and began to dig into the delicious meal. It killed a good 45 minutes, you realised as you checked your phone once you were done. Finishing up with a little tidying wasted another 10 minutes, and then you were back to waiting.

Now, it was closer to 11:00pm, and you felt your eyelids growing heavy, but with no sign of him, you didn't want to fall asleep just yet. You put on a random movie on the giant TV and decided to settle in on the sofa for the night.

It feels like only moments later when you woke to the sound of classical music blaring from the record player in the corner of the room. The movie had been switched off. You became aware of a weight on your hip. Calmly, you look up to discover the source. A hand was stroking your hip and playing with the end of your nightdress, which had ridden up while you slept. The hand belonged to none other than Sylus himself. Somehow, he’d managed to situate himself on the sofa you were sleeping on, your head resting on his lap as his hands absentmindedly fussed with your body and hair.

‘You’re awake,’ He said in his deep drawl, the words smoothing over you like honey.

‘I didn’t even realise I’d fallen asleep,’ You replied blinking up into his deep carmine eyes as they roamed your body.

‘Out like a light, sweetie,’ he said with a smirk. ‘You didn’t even flinch when I came through the door.’ His lips held that signature smirk as he continued, ‘What happened to those fine-tuned hunter instincts, hmm? Have they been dulled by the wine you so graciously helped yourself to?’

He sounded calm and collected as usual, but you could tell something was off. You shifted on his lap to look at him more seriously.

‘What happened, Sylus?’ You asked, letting his comment about the wine slide. He’d give you the earth if he could; you knew he wasn’t really bothered by a bottle of wine.

‘Nothing to worry about. As you can see, I’m perfectly fine,’ he replied, feigning nonchalance. But there was a note of something in his voice that betrayed his nearly perfect mask. Your eyes scanned his face, searching for any clue.

‘See something you like, sweetie?’ He teased, tilting his head and gazing into your eyes. He was so close, and for a moment, you were distracted by how handsome he looked. Your eyes drifted to his lips, which crooked up into another half-smirk when he noticed.

You snapped out of it. ‘I’m being serious, Sylus. I missed you all day. You read my messages, so I knew you were alive, but it’s so hard waiting here when all I want is to be with you.’ You softened your voice, trying to coax him into opening up.

‘Sweetie,’ he started ‘you knew what this arrangement would look like when we started. I don’t want to tell you anything that you don’t need to know. You wouldn’t like-’

‘You don’t know what I’ll think!’ you interrupted, sitting up and turning toward him. You cupped his jaw and guided his face toward you. That’s when you spotted it, a red drop of dried blood on his temple. You raised your hand and gently ran your thumb over the spot. ‘Sylus, I’m a big girl. I kill wanderers for a living you know?’ He sighed leaning into your touch, clearly soothed by the movement. ‘I’m in this, whatever it is, with you. I wouldn’t have betrayed The Hunters Association and constantly sneaked behind their back for just anyone. Please tell me what happened.’

He sat in silence, eyes closed, rolling your words around in his mind. Initially, he’d kept this side of his business a secret because he wasn’t sure he could trust you. But over the months, he’d kept it hidden for another reason entirely. He didn’t want you to see the violent, unkind part of him that emerged when dealing with business.

But now, thinking back to how you met, to all the challenges he’d watched you face without backing down, he wrestled with himself. Would it really be so bad to let you in?

He opened his eyes, his hand wrapping around yours. ‘Are you sure you want to know?’ You nodded gently, holding his gaze to show him how serious you were. ‘Today’s deal didn’t quite go as planned. Turns out this buyer held a grudge against me after our last meeting - he sold me some subpar protocores and I, naturally, refused to pay for them. He had men hidden in the surrounding buildings and ambushed me. No class, kitten,’ He said, his voice sharp. It sent a shiver down your spine, but you were determined to stay composed.

‘Luke got out unscathed but Kerian was hurt pretty badly. He was being patched up until late into the night.’ Your face must have betrayed your shock because Sylus leaned in and pressed a delicate kiss on your cheek. ‘I had to execute every person in that room for trying to double-cross me sweetie.’ he whispered into our ear, his tone deep and almost seductive.

You gasped, but before you could speak, he asked, ‘Should I continue?’ You nodded again. ‘My gun burned through its holster once I ran out of bullets. It wasn’t my only weapon, of course.’ His tone turned dark. ‘You remember how deadly my Evol is, right sweetie? You found out the day we met.’

Your body reacted instinctively to the memory, a flash of heat curling in your belly.

You could only nod again, this time biting your lip at the memory of your first meeting. ‘I take an odd delight in using it to eviscerate my enemies, turning them to dust beneath my feet, where they belong. Filth like that needs to be taken care of - don't you agree sweetie” His voice had turned almost syrupy in quality and his eyes flashed with the red of his Aether core. You were shocked- not at the information, but at your own reaction to it.

He continued. ‘Of course, I had to leave the boss for last, sweetie. He had a lesson to learn, after all. First, he sold me sub-quality products and then he tried to cross me. Tut, tut, tut. That simply won't do.’ You leaned in slightly closer, resting your knees on his thighs as you curled up. ‘Well, I’ve never heard a grown man beg so quickly, and you won’t believe it, kitten. He tried to make a deal with me.’

‘What kind of deal? For his life?’ you questioned.

‘Hmmm sort of,’ he replied. ‘This man - no, this filth - tried to offer me his own flesh and blood in return for me sparing his life. His own child. His daughter is just 16 years old. He told me I could have her.’ He scoffed as if the thought were laughable. ‘He should've known that would never work. In fact, it left me more disgusted by him. She’s a child. She should never have been brought up in a business discussion. I tortured him a little more for that. First his eyes…’ At this, he brought his hand to your face and swept his thumb over one of your eyes. ‘He didn’t deserve to look at me. Next, his tongue…’ His hand moved down and ran over your lips ‘his disgusting begging earned him that one, kitten. Of course, I couldn’t just rough him up, that wouldn't do. I had to make him suffer, unable to scream for help, gurgling and choking on his own blood.’

Somehow, you weren’t utterly horrified like you'd imagine you would be, hearing about the killing of so many people and the blatant torture of another. You felt your thighs clench at his raw power and seductive tone. God, what was wrong with you?

Sylus, ever the observant man, saw your eyes dilate and your thighs clench beneath your tiny nightdress. ‘Well, sweetie, it seems I had nothing to worry about,’ He brought his hand down to your hip and moved in close to whisper in your ear. ‘You’re clearly more than woman enough to handle anything I throw at you.’

You were found out. ‘Did you want me to be scared?’ you asked him, your voice soft in his ear, as his lips dropped to your neck - not making contact, but close enough for his eyes to watch your pulse racing beneath your soft skin.

‘Never, sweetheart. I’m not interested in your fear’ His voice dripped with lust as he cupped your shoulder and laid you back against the soft sofa beneath you, crowding around you with his arms resting on either side of your face. ‘Why would I want that when your desperation is so much more… enticing?’

He brought his hand up to your face, gripping it tight enough for you to feel his control, but not enough to hurt you. ‘Tell me, kitten,’ He purred, his eyes locking onto yours ‘Why is it that hearing these vicious acts has got you all hot and bothered, hmmm?’

“It’s just…” you couldn’t quite seem to find the right words.

“Just? Just what?” He replied, almost mocking with his tone.

“Just, you. I don’t know why but hearing about you being so ruthless and in charge, it kind of turnsmeon.” You rushed through the end of your sentence, mumbling to the point of incoherence.

“Oh come on kitten,” he started. “You can be a big girl and tell me properly.”

“I said it, turns me on!” Your face had heated up quite substantially but still you went on. “I don’t know why, but it does. I think it’s the control maybe?”

“Oh really,” his voice dropped to a whisper as he leaned closer to your ear “and do you want to be under my control too?”

You shut your eyes, trying to escape his intensity, but he clearly wasn’t going to let that slide. ‘Uh-uh sweetheart. Look at me when I'm talking to you.’ You heard light buzzing in the air by your head before you felt it - his Evol snaked around your throat, giving a light squeeze in warning. Your eyes snapped open at the sensation. ‘Don’t hide from me. I want to see how much you can handle. Now tell me what I want to hear - don't make me force it out of you.’ His right eye flashed in warning and you felt a slight pull to open up to him in more ways than one.

This was a completely new dynamic in your relationship. He had never used his Evol on you - other than when you first met - and it sent a thrill running through you. The idea of him compelling you to voice your desires so clearly, without hesitation, made you realise just how much you liked this side of him. He noticed your eyes dilating further- they looked like beautiful black pools, and it drove him wild to know that he had this effect on you. ‘Oh. It seems like that’s exactly what you want to happen. Is that right, sweetheart?’

You nodded desperately, but he held your face still and kissed your lips lightly. ‘No, baby, you have to use your words. You have to want this, or it’s a huge invasion of privacy. I won't do that’

His insistence on your consent, made your heart flutter. Little things like this reinforced your feelings for him, and you couldn't help the little smile that revealed your affection. ‘Sylus, i-I want you to force me to tell you this.’ You emphasised your point by bringing one hand up to his shoulder, squeezing the muscle beneath, while the other rested on his chest, feeling the abnormally fast pace of his heart beating beneath his skin.

He closed his eyes and then opened them, his Evol no longer prickling at you but pushing you fully. He looked you straight in the eyes with such intensity that you couldn’t have looked away even if you’d wanted to. Then, the voices started - a cacophony of your own voice inside your head, letting loose every desire you had. The sound grew so loud that the sentences slipped out of your mouth against your will. ‘Submit to him. Claim him as yours. You belong to him. Give him everything. Submit.’

Your breathing grew heavier as you spilled all of your secrets, anxiety building. You wanted to look away from his handsome face, but thank god you couldn’t.

You saw his eyes dilate at your confessions. The more you were forced to say, the more hunger you saw on his face. His breathing deepened, and you felt him growing hard against your leg. His mouth parted on a shaky exhale, the warmth of it hitting your face. You could nearly taste the whiskey he’d clearly consumed before arriving. When he spoke, his voice was deep and husky, laced with lust. ‘Oh, it seems you’ve had a lot on your mind recently. Why didn’t you say something before?’

He let you out of the grip of his Evol and you couldn’t even begin to form an answer to his question. You reached your hands up into his hair and pulled him into a deep kiss.

The moment your lips connected with his, everything around you seemed to dissolve, leaving just the two of you. Sylus responded immediately, deepening the kiss with a hunger that mirrored the storm of emotions brewing inside him. His hands roamed the sides of your body, trailing heat wherever they went, making your skin tingle under his touch. He tugged at your lower lip with his teeth before pulling back, his breath ragged as he stared down at you, eyes dark with desire.

“You’re playing a dangerous game, sweetheart,” he murmured, his voice a low, rumbling growl. “You’ve got no idea what you’ve just unlocked.”

His grip tightened on your hips, and you could feel the restraint in his movements, like he was holding back a torrent of emotion and power. You felt a strange thrill at his words, at the way he teetered on the edge of control.

“Maybe I like danger more than you know,” you replied, your voice breathless yet teasing, daring him to show you just how deep this game could go. You ran your hands down his chest, feeling the hard planes of muscle beneath your fingertips. He inhaled sharply at your touch, his carmine eyes blazing with intensity.

His hands slid beneath your nightdress, grazing your thighs as he pulled you closer into his lap. Suddenly, his grip tightened and he lifted you up into the air as he stood from the couch. You let out a surprised gasp, instinctively wrapping your legs around his waist, as they had done hundreds of times before.

He carried you into the bedroom and unexpectedly sat himself down at the headboard, leaving you straddling his thighs and pressed against his hard cock. Your hands went back to his shoulders. He bucked his hips up into you and you both groaned at the contact, the heat between you two becoming almost unbearable. He leaned in close, his breath hot against your ear, sending a shiver down your spine.

“Tell me,” he whispered, his voice dark and smooth. “Do you really think you can handle me at my most dangerous, sweetie?”

You swallowed hard, your heart racing as you met his eyes. There was no going back from this. Not from the way he was looking at you, not from the emotions you were feeling—raw, untamed, and terrifyingly real.

“Yes,” you breathed out, barely audible but filled with certainty. To prove it, you grinded against him and let out a soft keen at the feeling of him, hard and right where you needed him.

Sylus’s smirk grew wider, and he pressed a hungry kiss against your neck, letting his lips linger, as the mark he left tingled. “Then brace yourself,” he said, “because I don’t plan on stopping until you know exactly who you belong to.”

He moved with purpose, flipping you both over to once again tower over you. Letting you know that he was firmly in control. This, you were used to, this you craved.

His hands moved deliberately - never once hesitating - slipping beneath the thin fabric of your nightdress. He groaned softly as his fingers found your bare skin, the touch electrifying. You arched into him, craving more, your breath hitching as he ran his hands along your sides, his lips following the path of his fingers, leaving a trail of fire in their wake.

“Is this what you want?” he murmured against your skin, his voice rough, primal. “Is this why you’ve been so restless without me?”

You could only nod, words failing you as desire overtook everything else. Sylus chuckled darkly at your silence, his hand tightening possessively around your waist as he shifted, pushing you back into the soft cushions of the bed. His body hovered over yours, his silver hair falling like a curtain around his face as he gazed down at you with a mixture of hunger and affection.

“You drive me crazy, you know that?” he said, his voice softer now, though still edged with that dangerous undercurrent. “Every time I leave, all I think about is getting back to you.”

His confession hit you like a punch to the chest. This wasn’t just about the sex. There was something deeper, something neither of you had dared to voice before. But in this moment, with everything laid bare, there was no hiding from it anymore.

“Sylus,’ You groaned ‘I think about you too, you have to know that,” you whispered, your hands gripping his shirt as if holding onto him was the only thing keeping you grounded. “I can’t stop thinking about you, Sylus.” You paused your hands’ movements and looked at him.

He froze, his eyes searching yours, and in that heartbeat of silence, you could feel the shift in the air between you. Something unspoken passed between you, something more than just physical desire.

Sylus lowered his head until his lips were barely brushing yours. “Then don’t,” he murmured. “Don’t stop. Don’t hold back.”

And with that, he kissed you again, this time with a slow, deliberate intensity that made your whole body tremble. Your hands took the opportunity to pull apart his shirt, buttons flying everywhere and baring his beautiful skin for you. His hands roamed over you with a possessive need, claiming you in ways that left no doubt in your mind that this was more than just a game to him. It was more than just physical.

It was everything.

‘I’m going to absolutely ruin you,’ He said with an edge of desperation in his voice. He pulled off your nightdress, not at all shocked to find you bare beneath it but delighted nonetheless. Less barriers to make his way through. He let out a groan so deep at the sight of you bare and dripping for him. He couldn’t help himself, he needed you. ‘You want me to taste you? To bury my face between your thighs and make you come?’ You nodded furiously, drunk on his raw power. “Then that’s exactly what I’m going to do.’

With that, he dove in tongue first. Lapping at you with unparalleled delight. ‘Fuck,’ he groaned. ‘You alway taste so divine?’ he dove back in. “You’re so perfect and all mine.’

You couldn’t contain your sounds of pleasure, nor did you want to. You knew he loved to hear you cry out and moan for him. The menace loved to hear how he was ruining you. A wicked grin spread across his face as he wrapped his arms around your thighs and pulled you close into his waiting mouth. ‘You’re so wet for me, kitten,’ He murmured, his voice thick and filled with heat. ‘I can't wait to lap up every last drop.’

Without warning, his tongue swept across your slick pussy, eliciting a gasp of pleasure from your lips. He continued to completely overwhelm you with his enthusiastic assault of his tongue on your pussy. Teasing and tantalising every sensitive spot. He brought his hand up to join in, gently circling around your entrance and pushing in to feel that spongy spot that would, no doubt, have you seeing stars.

‘Mmmmm, you taste amazing,’ he growled, his voice low and husky. ‘Like honey and wine.’ He took his time, exploring every inch of you, his fingers continuing their exploration of your g-spot .

He could feel your pleasure building, your moans growing louder and more insistent, your walls squeezing around his fingers. ‘I love watching you like this, seeing you unravel. Fuck!’ is words were spoken against your pussy, almost muffled by how close he was. His tongue circled your clit, teasing it with gentle, sucking motions.

He was driving you closer and closer to the edge, tensing up. The coil inside you wound so tight that you could snap at any moment, but something held you back. “Please Sylus, please let me come, I want it, please.’ You needed permission. Your cries were desperate and pleading and it turned him on even more.

“Cum for me, sweetie,” he urged you, needing to feel you fall over the edge, desperate for your release. “Let me feel you cum on my tongue baby, you’re squeezing my fingers so hard.”

He dove back in his mouth and lips working overtime on your clit and his fingers hitting that spot with expert precision. He felt the moment you came for him and he groaned loudly into your pussy. He could taste the waves of pleasure on his tongue and feel the way you clamped down hard on his fingers, getting impossibly tighter. He gently ran his tongue over your clit, drawing out pleasure from your quivering body.

“Fuck, Sylus,” you groaned. Your body was still reeling from the aftershocks of your orgasm when you felt him shift against your foot, his cock - still confined in his trousers and boxers - was as hard as a rock and desperate for attention. “Come here,” you demanded as you pulled him up by his soft strands of silver hair. The slight pain from your tugging and your tone elicited another groan from Sylus.

Your lips smashed together, both of you moaning into the kiss. He kissed you impossibly harder. Ravaging your mouth as your hands worked his belt, then zipper open and pushed them down his thighs, boxers and all. He shivered a little as you wasted no time in gripping his cock firmly in your hands.

“Please, let me taste it, Sylus?” You asked with a look of feigned innocence on your face. How could he say no to that?

As you got onto your knees in front of him, you licked up the length of his cock. It was completely hard for you and he groaned at the sensation. Of course his dick was just as pretty as the rest of him. E looked down at you as you took the tip of his cock into your mouth and sucked him sweetly, blinking up at him. His moans of enjoyment encouraged you. You used both hands around his shaft and let your mouth focus on his sensitive tip, just the way he liked it. You knew all of his favourite places to be touched and just the right way to do it.

He was utterly enraptured with the sight of you, mouth stuffed full of him. He gathered your hair in a makeshift ponytail before pulling you off him. “You’ll be the death of me, sweetie,” he replied. Your hands continued their work on his cock, spreading out the silky precum that had gathered at his top and using it to lubricate your motions. He felt so good, your hands working wonders. “I fear I’ve taught you-“ his groan interrupted him mid sentence as you licked his slit again. “Taught you too well. Fuck. I won’t last in your mouth, sweetie. I need you now!” It was a command, not a request.

He pushed you back into your back and reached across to the night stand to retrieve a condom.

“Wait!” You grabbed his arm to stop him. He looked at you shocked, concerned that something was wrong. “What if we, ummm, didn’t use a condom tonight?” You asked, a hint of shyness creeping in. Truthfully you’d been thinking about it for a while now. He was the only man you were sleeping with and you were on the pill. There’s no one else you trusted to experience that with before. You wanted to feel him, raw, with no barrier between you.

He groaned and nipped at your neck, leaving a trail of kisses down your collarbone. “Fuck. You really want that? Are you sure?”

You nodded in response then remembering his earlier demand, voiced your agreement. “Yes Sylus, please I want it.”

“Good.” He growled as he took your nipple into his mouth and sucked on it, laving his tongue over the soft pebble and making you groan and grab at his hair again.

“I want you,” He said, his cock grinding against you completely bare for the first time, sending a shiver down your spine. “All of you.”

He captured your mouth in another searing kiss, his tongue tangling with yours as his hand slid between your thighs. His fingers teased your sensitive skin, collecting your sticky arousal and using it to stroke his cock - covering himself in your very essence. “I’ll give you anything you want, kitten.”

You took over from him, stroking his cock and guiding it to your pussy. His eyes lit up further, his cock throbbing with anticipation as you ran the tip of him across your soaked pussy. “I just want you” you replied earnestly.

“Oh, fuck,” he growled his voice so low and husky, it reeked for pure sex. “You have no idea how much I want to give you everything. To spoil you, claim you, to own you.”

He pushed into you, his cock sliding deep into your warm, wet pussy. He bottomed out and you both groaned at the sensation. He stilled himself inside you, his body tensed with pleasure as he felt himself buried to the hilt. “You feel so good,” he breathed, his voice full of adoration. “So perfect for me. This pussy is perfect, fuck, like it was made for me.”

He began to move his hips, rocking back and forth with a deliberate, slow pace. He could feel his control slipping, his desire to completely control you, to own you, growing with every passing moment. His raw cock although slow, was hitting perfectly inside you. It felt amazing. You raked your nails down his back and bucked your hips up to meet his thrusts. If you’d have known how good it would feel, you never would have waited this long to go without a condom. You could feel every inch of him, each ridge and vein, smoothing along your walls and drawing out your soft keens and mewls.

“You’re mine, sweetie,” he growled, his voice low and raw with need. “I’m going to make you mine forever.” He leaned in as his thrusts began to get faster and harder. “And I’m going to take everything. Every inch of you is mine. Every waking moment is mine. Every last breath in your body belongs to me now. I’m going to make sure you never forget it.

“Yes, please, Sylus,” you gasped as his thrusts turned merciless, his cock hitting you just right and the slapping noises echoing in the giant room. “Yes I’m yours, completely yours!”

He groaned at your words and smashed your lips together in another bruising kiss your tongue not even trying to fight for dominance as if it knew it was his. You could see the effect of your words on him, so you pushed on despite your breathlessness.

Each word came out in pants. “I’m yours! Yours to fuck, yours to spoil, yours to love. I’m all yours Sylus,” he grinned widely, possessively at your words. “And you’re all mine.” You reached up and pulled him into a desperate kiss, breaking off and leaving a trail of your combined saliva hanging from your lips. Moving them to his throat and attaching them to his sensitive spot, before sucking a hard mark on his neck.

He groaned loudly at the feeling. You trailed your lips lower leaving mark after mark in your wake. His hips stuttered and he had to still them to catch his breath.

“No one else gets to see you this way,” You leaned up and whispered into his ear “You’re all fucking mine.”

Sylus’s eyes darkened with unbridled desire as you declared your own possessiveness. He let out a guttural groan, his hips resuming their relentless slamming into you. He brought his hand down to your stomach and pressed down slightly, feeling his cock move within you from the outside - it drove him absolutely wild.

“Oh sweetie, you’re right,” he rasped, his voice dripping with lust from your words. “I’m all yours. Every. Single. Fucking. Inch.” He punctuated his words with four particularly hard thrusts that had your eyes rolling back in your skull and your moans coming out in quiet shrieks.

He captured your lips in a bruising kiss, his tongue pressing into your mouth as his fingers gripped your hips tight enough to leave bruises the next day.

He broke the kiss, only to trail hot, open-mouthed kisses down your neck, sucking and nipping at your soft skin. “I’m going to mark you up, kitten,” he murmured, his teeth grazing your flesh. “Everyone is going to know you’re mine.”

He pulled back, his eyes drinking in the sight of you beeneath him, his cock buried deep inside your warmth, bare and fucking stunning. The feeling was indescribable. A wicked grin spread across his handsome face as he grinded his hips against yours with him all the way deep.

Your eyes flashed open at the new feeling and looked down to see where you were both so intimately connected. As he pulled out, you could see the way you gripped onto him tighter and tighter and you could feel your pleasure building inside.

He could feel it in the way you squeezed him in a vice-like grip, it had his mind reeling and him desperately close to the edge. He tried to hold on, and was doing a great job of it until you reached down to rub your clit and moaned out.

“Please cum inside me, Sylus,” you were almost begging him. You were so close to your orgasm and you knew it would leave you exhausted. “Please, cum for me, I’m so close. Please cum with me.”

Sylus’s face contorted into a mix of pleasure and restraint, he wanted to feel you cum around him first before he let himself release. He could see the desperation in your eyes, your desire to be filled by him.

He drove into you with a fierce intensity, his hips pumping in a rapid, rhythmic motion as he got closer and closer. He brushed your hand away and used his fingers to press down, as his thumb battered your clit. “Come for me, sweetie, I’m right there too,” He rasped out, his voice hoarse “I’ll fill you up pretty girl, I promise, I’ll make you mine in every way.”

“I’m gonna cum, fuck, Sylus!” You moaned out his name as you felt yourself hit your orgasm.

He felt his body tense, his cock throbbing with release as he exploded inside you, his cum pumping out in hot, pulsing jets. He felt it spilling into your depths, the sensation so different without a barrier. Being connected to you, being inside you like that, it was the most intense feeling he’d ever experienced.

You were both left feeling absolutely breathless, sticky and tired. You closed your eyes and tried to catch your breath, when you felt soft kisses being pressed against your lips. “You’re so incredible, my perfect girl.”

His words set your heart on fire, almost matching the usual fast pace of his. He began to pull out but you stopped him with a grip on his hip. “Not yet,” you reached back up and kissed him gently. “I don’t want to be separated from you.”

His eyes warmed at your words, softening to the point where he looked completely enamoured with you. “I’m not going anywhere sweetie, I just need to clean you up.”

“Can’t you do that and still stay inside me?” You replied with a pout on your face that made him chuckle.

“I promise, I’ll be at your disposal for the rest of the weekend, if you let me get you cleaned up. How’s that sound sweetie?” He set the deal up and now the ball was in your court.

“That does sound good, but may I add one more clause to the agreement?” You said with a slight grin.

“Hmmm, sure. Anything for you, sweetie.” He shot back at you.

“Promise me, you’ll always come back to me. You don’t have to be here all the time but just promise me that I’ll be the one you come back to. And let me in, yeah?” You looked at him with warmth and a deeper emotion that you were too scared to name.

“Okay, then I want to add another clause, if I may?” He nuzzled into your cheek and kissed the side of your mouth before making eye contact again. “Quit your job, move in with me and let me have you as mine officially. I’m not going anywhere, and I want this to be something we can give our all to. I want to take you with me, to show you off as mine. Sneaking around was fun at the beginning, but now, I just want to hold your hand in the street, kiss you when I feel like it, or throw you over my shoulder and escort you out of the premises when I want you like this.”

He kissed you again, his teeth tugging at your lip and his tongue demanding entrance again. You were tempted, oh so tempted. What did you truly have back in Linkon that wouldn’t be there if you followed your heart? Zayne was your childhood friend, he’d understand. Your colleagues were just that, colleagues. Tara was always asking you about “Mr Skye” and when you would be making things official so she’d be delighted. And Rafayel? He had his own, Miss Hunter to keep him company. He seemed so happy and he would always be your best friend no matter what.

“Can I have some time to think about it?” You asked him.

He looked a little sad about it but he nodded his head and started to pull his softening cock out of you. His cum started to drip out of you and he looked down at the sight transfixed, his cock getting hard again at the sight. But he knew that he needed to give you a little space to process what he’d asked of you so he started to go to the bathroom intent on grabbing you a warm, wet washcloth to clean you up.

But your hand stopped him from retreating even one step. You looked up at him with your eyes full of adoration and he looked back feeling the weight of his own. “Okay, I’ve thought about it, let’s do it.” You giggled.

Sylus was silent for a moment, and you felt the weight of your words hand in the air before he finally spoke.

“God, I love you,” he said, his voice low and filled with something you hadn’t heard before—something vulnerable. He kissed you again as this time, the kiss felt different. You could feel all the emotion he put into it, truly conveying his raw emotion in the best way he could.

You pulled away and whispered “I love you too, Sylus,” before grabbing him by the back of the back and pulling him back down on top of you.

And in that moment, you knew things had changed between you both. No more hiding, no more pretending that what you had was casual. Because in reality, it was anything but.

And neither of you were willing to let it go.

[twstgarden]

❀ ❝ 𝘁𝗼 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗱𝗲𝗮𝗿𝗲𝘀𝘁 𝗵𝘂𝗺𝗮𝗻 𝗶𝗻 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗳𝗼𝗿𝗲𝘀𝘁 ❞

━ general! lilia vanrouge x human! gn! reader ━ living as a human in a fae-dominated country during the war probably isn't your best idea, but you love the land of briar so much as you were born and raised in that nation. who knew that your little activity of picking berries in the forest would make you meet the famed fae general? will he think you're a spy and deem you as a threat or will he realize you're just an innocent human living in the forest? (f/n means first name)

requested by: anonymous request type: oneshot requester's message: Can I request a General Lilia and Human Reader one-shot? Something fluffy (wasn't sure if you were up to date with the game so didn't want to get too specific) florist's note: omg a general lilia request. don't worry, i'm up to date w the jp version of the game. thank you for the request, little one.

this work contains spoilers for chapter 7, diasomnia's arc.

do not steal or translate without my permission.

“what are you doing out here, human?”

you flinched in surprise as a voice startled you from behind. you stood up and turned around with your basket on your arm, looking at the person who disturbed your little time. you were about to respond until you noticed the semi-familiar mask and the long dark hair with red highlights peeking out of this person’s hood.

it was the famed fae general.

“i was… just picking berries, sir.”

you responded as soon as you regained your thoughts. you continued to hold your basket as your eyes trailed all over his figure, taking in the details of his clothing and the mask covering his face. the eye holes glowed red, giving you the impression that it could be his eye colour. 

he was silent for a while as you responded, making you stay silent before looking down at your half-filled basket, tilting it a little to show him the contents.

“here… if you don’t believe me…”

the general looked at the basket for a quick second then looked back at you, speaking in a stern tone as he was still a little suspicious of you, “why pick berries all the way to this forest? you might be one of those pesky silver owl spies for all i know.”

silver owl? ah, that must be the human knights wearing iron armour and stealing the resources of the land of briar. 

what a disappointment… your own kind seemed to have never learned not to steal other’s resources. 

“ah… no… i’m not a spy nor am i a part of the silver owls… i’m just a human living in the forest and this spot is the closest area for berry picking to my cottage,” you tried to explain yourself to the general as the red glow in the mask’s eyeholes stared back at you with extreme intensity. 

when he did not respond for a while, you bowed a little to show respect and asked, “am i free to go, general?” 

he let out a short hum and held onto his weapon as he replied, “go. avoid the forest as much as possible, human. it’s not safe here. evacuate while you can.” you gave him a small smile and bowed your head again, “thank you, general, but i’ll be fine in this forest. have a great evening, sir.”

you held onto your basket and smiled for a quick second before turning around and walking away from the general, heading back to your lovely little cottage settled just a few meters away from the berry-picking spot. 

so that was the fae general. you finally had the chance to meet him face-to-face. his aura made him quite intimidating, especially when he holds that magical lithic. still, you didn’t want that to scare you. you knew you did nothing wrong, so there was no reason to fear him coming after you. 

that aside, the berries you picked were to your expectations, and you grabbed enough to bake your pie for dinner. with that in mind, you got to work, prepping the ingredients and baking your pie. the scent of the pie flooded your kitchen and the surrounding area of your cottage.

lucky for you, your little neighbourhood was safe and rarely do you ever find any threatening creatures, just a bunch of adorable woodland creatures. by the time your pie was finished baking, you had dinner by yourself on a picnic bench right outside your cottage, enjoying the greenery despite the darkness of the forest. 

it was going well until you felt another presence with you sitting right in front of you on the picnic bench. you glanced at the person and saw a soldier wearing armour with the palace guards’ coat of arms and a mask covering their face looking at you ━ or rather, the pie. it seems they’ve smelt it from wherever they were staying and came over. 

the soldier started screeching and you knew it was speaking to you in their language. unfortunately, being human meant it was hard for you to pick up and understand what they were saying, so you had to rely on the soldier’s body language. 

noticing how they were eyeing the single slice of pie in your hand, you thought the soldier wanted to have some, making you extend your hand a little as you spoke, “you want a pie? wait here.”

you then entered your cottage to grab the remaining slices of pie on your table and went out, placing it on the picnic table right in front of the soldier, “here, have this! you can share it with the rest of the soldiers, there’s plenty left!” 

the soldier stared at the pie for a while before looking up at you as if they were checking for any signs of hesitation or whatnot. you merely smiled to show no ill will, but another screech was heard from behind the soldier and your eyes immediately noticed the general standing right there. 

the soldier turned around and saluted at the general before screeching back, making it evident to you that they are conversing in their own language. moments later, the soldier disappeared into the dark forest, leaving you with the general as you looked at him, “did you tell him to leave?”

“no, i told him not to take food from others even if they try to offer it.”

you sighed as you sat on the picnic bench, “are you still wary of me?” 

“yes.”

oh, how straightforward. very admirable.

“i see… well, i’m not sure what i should say to make you think i’m just a regular forest resident and not a spy, but at least have a pie. there’s plenty left to share. it’s not poisoned if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“i am not interested in eating human food.”

those were the last things he said before disappearing into the night somewhere in the forest, presumably heading back to where his soldiers were camping out. you blinked your eyes for a moment before shrugging your shoulders and mumbling under your breath, “alright, general…” 

days have passed and you’ve occasionally seen the general around the forest as you did your usual activities. he had warned you not to dilly-dally around the forest, while other times, he just ignored you and let you do your thing as well as informing his troops not to harm you. 

soon, it escalated to some of the soldiers even paying you a visit just to check on you. you appreciated their gestures, but at the back of your mind, you wondered if the general grew to accept you as a regular citizen of their country. you even got to meet one of the soldiers called baul zigvolt as he paid your cottage a visit once to see if you were well or not. in return, you gave him one of your pastries or meals that he can share with the rest of his comrades. it certainly has become sort of a routine to you at this point.

one day, none of the soldiers paid you a little visit, which made you wonder if they were alright or if they’d moved their camp somewhere else further away from your cottage. you sat on the picnic bench right outside your cottage as you sipped on some beverage you made yourself, watching the surrounding areas for any signs of life, watching the moon and the stars up in the sky shining down on you, listening to the crickets in the distance, and feeling the cold breeze in the air as it made the trees sway a little. 

you were about to head back inside until you heard a familiar voice a few steps behind you. 

“waiting for something?”

you turned around and smiled as you saw the same old mask as the familiar figure stood there, “well… someone, rather.” 

a chuckle was heard from the general before walking towards you and sitting on the picnic bench before you. your smile was still present on your face as you spoke, “i’m doing alright if you’re here to check on me. i appreciate all your efforts, general.”

it was silent for a bit, but you remained smiling at him. a few seconds later, his hands hovered over his mask before grabbing it, revealing his features as his red eyes looked right at you.

your eyes widened slightly. he was really good-looking. you couldn’t find the right words to say, but you remained smiling as he spoke to you, “...that’s a relief, then. you need to know how dangerous this place is. it isn’t safe for you to stay here, human.”

“f/n.”

“what?”

“my name’s f/n…” 

the general smiled a little and continued to speak, “i see…” you smiled and proceeded to reply to his words earlier, “i’ll be alright here, general. this is my home… i was raised in this cottage by my parents. now that i’m alone, i still wish to stay here.” he nodded a little as you added, “...thank you, general, for looking out and considering me as the land of briar’s citizen…”

he didn’t say anything for a moment as you handed him a little flower from your garden and a few cookies with a sheepish smile, “i didn’t get to cook or bake much today, so… please accept this..”

the general grabbed the cookies and the flower from you as he placed the flower safely by the belt of his armour while grabbing a cookie and taking a bite. a few moments later, you conversed with the general until he had to head back to his camp. 

you stood before him and spoke as you went to see him off, “thank you for visiting, general. be safe out there.” he nodded his head and placed a rose on your hair, already wearing a mask as he did so, ��... there… you look beautiful… and you’re the one who needs to be safe out here, f/n. i’ll see you again tomorrow.” he then disappeared into the night, but his words were still in your mind. 

beautiful.

beautiful.

beautiful…

the general thinks you look beautiful. 

“oh dear me, my heart can’t take this…” you whispered as you hovered a hand above your chest, right where your heart was. you smiled to yourself as you entered your cottage and went to your room, laying on your bed as you hugged your pillow.

“i hope i’ll see him again tomorrow…”

© twstgarden 2023 || please do not steal, translate without my permission, or use this to train a.i.

[meanbossart]

ASK COMPILATION ABOUT THE WEIRD DROW

Replying to a couple of shorter questions! Sorry that I can't get to all of you lest this blog just turns into a stream of constant asks, but I read all of your messages and to be honest there are several that I'm saving to draw something for 😭 alas there are only so many hours in a day.

Thank you for all the support and interactivity as always!

He takes fairly good care of things he considers important or useful - otherwise he's pretty messy or at least indifferent to mess. Definitely a "leaves the wet towel on the bed" guy LOL

Okay so I was bad and not used to DnD mechanics or spells the first time I played the game, so I RARELY ever cast Speak With Animals and had very little sense of their personality during his campaign - BUT THERE WAS THIS ONE TIME WHEN I DID.

THERE WAS ONE TIME WHERE I REMEMBERED.

AND IT WAS PERFECT.

He adores and most of all respects this intense little guy with his whole heart.

[MORE UNDER THE CUT]

Serious answer: he respects wild animals far too much to try and make one into a pet.

Non-serious but still true answer: He would never do that and have to deal with Astarion's incessant Drizzt Do'urden joke comparisons for the rest of his existence. That's that man's personal hell.

He's fairly adaptable! But as far as dynamics go, he does lean bottom regardless of who he's with in bed, but this doesn't necessarily translate into always being on the receptive end of things.

If he were to be with a cisgender woman who doesn't wear a strap like its a second pair of briefs, he would be more than happy to be the pitcher the majority of the time. I think the only scenario where he would be dissatisfied is a restrictive one - he couldn't be with someone who doesn't want to enjoy his whole body in earnest, or who can't flip the roles every once in a while. Also, you have to be a little gross. He has probably caught Astarion off-guard with the things he did on a whim/suggested they do more than once. All in all, as long as whoever he's with is versatile and not a prude, they could probably make it work.

He killed Minthara in her lair and all he got was a bear out of it. Good thing killing her was it's own reward!

MAN... Could just be that his story is far too concrete in my brain already, but it's hard for me to see that working. They are both far too out of touch with their emotions and quiet in their demeanor for me to envision a durable romance sparking. Also, DU drow (who has no clue how old he is himself) thinks of Shadowheart as being far too young for him.

There is a mutual understanding between them that there is a barrier that neither of them is willing to let the other get past - and because that is something they both share, they won't, and they might never try. They work so well as friends because of their similarities, but in a relationship I think that would be to their detriment.

Also, I think silver-haired Shadowheart's wants and needs for her future far diverge from DU drow's chaotic lifestyle, ultimately It's probably best for them to make their own paths.

HAHAHAHA LISTEN.... YOU'RE TALKING AS IF THOSE TWO THINGS DON'T GO TOGETHER PERFECTLY WELL BUT IN MY MIND THEY ARE ONE AND THE SAME.

The thing about DU drow is that he might be a bottom, but he's a very... Uh, engaged bottom. He can be as dominant with a dick in his ass as he can be submissive depending on how it jives with his partner- and he's gonna spew some nonsense either way LOL

Either way... I feel ya brother 😔🍑

He did it himself during a dinner Gortash invited him to. At the table. With a meat knife. He was trying to prove a really stupid point/put Gortash off of him.

I have a script for this and I still need to draw it someday! 🤦‍♂️

He doesn't think anything of it now - it's so far in the past and DU drow obviously isn't the judgemental type when it comes to sordid individuals LOL

As a person, however, Astarion likely wasn't the kind of guy that he would have gotten along with, and vice-versa. Sounds to me like he was pretty poshy and did all his misdeeds under the table - DU drow wouldn't have strong feelings about it from an ethical standpoint, but he wouldn't respect it either. Also, DU drow's is practically anarchistic in his political views - soooooo not much room there to be in love with politicians. I'm sure pre-vampirism Astarion would have less than favorable opinions about him as well so the feeling would have been mutual LOL.

ABSOLUTELY NOT HE NEEDS BOTH EYES TO CUT THROUGH FOES he will gladly put Gale on the slab to see what happens though LMAO

[keyrey]

He's a fighter—in choice of words, that is.

My head-canon is that doting husband!Kento Nanami isn’t as soft-spoken and wise with his wife as he was back when they dated. Now, he’s quick to make a comeback when needed. Which happens to be quite often. Picture this:

Kento's sharp tongue is a result of dealing with his 'cocky and catastrophic' co-workers all day and night. (His words.) He’s armed not only with a sword but also with a collection of blunt, yet somehow witty retorts. It’s all part of his personality. And the constant patter of rain on his leather brogues didn’t exactly lift his spirits either. He was more than ready to see the clock strike 6:30 on his shiny silver watch.

He drags himself home, utterly exhausted. His eyes are half-closed and puffy, his lips cold. Despite his fatigue, he greets his wife with a tender and loving kiss, though it’s clearly accompanied by a silent message of, ‘I’m dead tired, but I’m doing this so you won’t get mad at me.’

"You need to invest in a better lip balm, Nanami."

"Oh, is that so?" Kento probes his lip with genuine curiosity. They might be a bit chapped, but is it worth the joke? Not necessarily. He’s familiar with her sarcastic streak; it can get a bit old, but he usually lets it slide.

"Yeah, it scratched my lip a little," she replies, her tone laced with mirth.

He fires back, "I suppose I do... but you need to invest in a comb." His deadpan delivery signals the start of their roast battle. Her aversion to combs is evident in the wild, tumbleweed-like mess at the back of her head. It’s a sorry excuse for a ponytail. She insists that hair wash days are only once a month, leaving her locks to form their own chaotic masterpiece.

"Oh, we’re starting this now, huh?" His wife pumps her tiny fists in the air, initiating a playful fight. A playful fight usually means he just stands there, hovering as she tries to provoke him. To no avail, of course.

Rule one of the husband/wife roast battle: Never lie.

"You need…" She struggles to come up with something since Kento is just too goddamn perfect on the surface. "A cookbook! Yeah, that’s right!" She shoots back with a triumphant grin.

"My cooking is immaculate. If it were that bad, why do you hover around the kitchen waiting for seconds, hmm? Care to explain, my love?"

He’s good. Damn it.

"…I’m tired of bread!" Her voice, though frail, is filled with fire. She crosses her arms, standing her ground.

Kento’s rare, toothy grin widens as he counters, “You adore my bread! How about you invest in some respect before I invest in a cookbook?”

She narrows her eyes, a mischievous glint forming. "Respect? Sure, right after you learn to pick up your socks from the living room. Or did you think the 'floor monster' would get them?"

He throws his head back, almost hilariously hitting the edge of the chair. He knows he’s met his match. "Touché. I’ll get on that… right after I bake some bread. White or pumpernickel?"

"You know I love your pumpernickel. What a bitch," she mutters, relenting with a frown on her face.

"I heard that, honey," he says in a low, affectionate voice.

"Good!"

And thus ended their roast battle. You can bet Kento had their house smelling like warm bread and butter.

She’ll get him next time, right?

Probably not.

You see that? He's already thinking of more comebacks. How she keeps her shoes strewn all around? Check. How she clogged the shower drain a total of 15 times in the past two weeks? Check. Don't even get him started on her cooking. Oh god, someone call 911. Food poisoning for you, you, and yes, you too!

[jerzwriter]

I'm a little late for Day 1, but I didn't want to miss the opportunity to send some love to some very special people. I'm not around as much as I used to be, so I feel a little disconnected. I'm sorry and trust me, I miss you all very much! 🩷🩷🩷

@aallotarenunelma - As I said in my reply to you, I hate the rough time you went through, but as someone who tries to find silver linings in dark clouds, I'm so glad that brought us together. You've always been such a bright, positive light in this fandom, and I am so happy we got to know each other. I've missed you here, and seeing your name in my notifications yesterday genuinely made me smile. I hope you're doing well, and I hope you'll pop in from time to time! I've missed you!

@alj4890 - My dear fellow Tobias simp! lol, I'm so glad that luscious little fictional man brought us together, but nowadays, he's definitely secondary to you! I enjoy our talks so much, and as much as I love a notification of a new Tobias x Chris fic, I'm even happier to see a message from you. It's so nice to have people who "get" you and I feel that whenever we talk. I'm so glad you're here for your creativity, and your friendship!

@aria-ashryver - My dear, you have always been such a beacon of light and love and an example of how each of us should be, even if it's difficult to live up to. You've endured so much and do so with a grace, dignity, and beauty that leaves me in awe. I think of you all the time, and I hope you know you have this agnostic praying and sending love and healing your way every day. Thank you for being you, thank you for spreading joy, and I hope you know how important you are not only to me, but to so many others. xoxo

@angelasscribbles - My sister from another mister. Girl, you're not even a fandom friend anymore - you're a friend. Period. It's so important to have people in our lives who "get" us, who we can speak to without fear of judgment, and who we can laugh with or be scared with. People who share our values for a better world and keep believing even in the darkest of days. You're that to me, Angela. Like I said, you're not a fandom friend, but since this little hellhole is where we met, you deserve to be acknowledged here. <3

@storyofmychoices - Sweet, sweet Dani. Where to even begin? You are the backbone of this little world of ours, and you give of yourself so selflessly time and time again. You are probably one of the kindest people I have ever met, and you do your best to see the best in everyone, even when it's very difficult to do. You've known darkness yourself, so it pains you to see others there, and you give so much of yourself to help others see the light. During some of my darkest times - in fandom and real life - you've brought me sunshine and joy when I've needed it most. I know both of us have not been around here as much because... life... but I hope you know how much I treasure you and your friendship. You are truly a rare gem in this world, and I'm so glad you're part of mine. Thanks so much for all that you do for the fandom - but mostly, for being you. xoxo

@icecoffee90 - My lovely, lovely Z. Another person who I have to remind myself I met through the fandom because you're not a fandom friend at all; you're a friend. I have always treasured our goofy talks and our intercontinental viewing parties, and now that we've gotten to SEE each other, we've created such beautiful memories. We've had so many laughs and you've brought joy to my life on days when I found it impossible to see the sun, I probably don't say it often enough - but you mean the world to me and my life is so much better because you're in it. Plus, we shared the world's best pumpkin pie ice cream together - that's a bond nothing can break! Love you to bits, sis! xoxo

@cariantha - Sweet Cari! As the fandom continues to dwindle, I'm so grateful for the people who remain, and I mean it when I say that you are at the top of that list. You've always been such a bright spot here, and your light shines through your work and actions. I always smile when I see a notification or DM from you, and I'm so glad you've stuck around. The fandom is better for it, but selfishly, I'm glad you're still here personally because you're one of the people who has always made this place great - even when it was not so great. Thanks so much for everything through the years, Cari! <3

@lilyoffandoms - Sweet, sweet Lily. Where to even begin. I feel bad because I've been removed from this place lately, and one of the people I miss the most is you. I adore you because you are all things kind and good - and a whole lot of don't fuck with me or what matters to me, too. That's the vibe right there! lol I've treasured our chats, I appreciate you as a person, and I love your giving nature. Seriously, you're someone others can look up to and aspire to be, and count me amongst those who hope to. If all that weren't enough YOUR TALENT! Writing, art... you are amazing and thank you for sharing those talents so generously with all of us. You make this place wonderful. You make it worth coming back to, I'm honored to call you friend. <3

@peonierose - My dear you have always been such a bright spot in this world. Just thinking of you conjures up images of bight pink flowers against a sunny sky. I know that's not how life has been for you as of late, but still, you don't let it change who you are at your core - a kind, beautiful soul. Thank you for being here all these years and for bringing so much joy to so many. We are so lucky to have you! <3

@quixoticdreamer16 - My baseball buddy who somehow got me through this wretched World Series! lol I truly value your support, kindness, and having someone who gets the thrill of victory and agony of defeat from spring through October. Thanks so much for being a valuable part of this fandom and so special to me! xo

@coffeeheartaddict2 My dear Tash. Thank you for helping me through the fall of civilization as we know it! lol, You've become such a dear friend, I almost forgot we met through the fandom, but I'm forever grateful to the fandom for bringing us together. It's good to know that whatever life throws at us, we will still have this crazy little corner to retreat to.

@dr-colossal-pita - My dear Ren, I feel so badly because I've been MIA due to many factors recently, and I hope that will change. But I hope you know how much you mean not only to this fandom but to me. Our chats, whether they be about fandom nonsense, shake-our-heads family moments, shake-our-head WORLD moments or lifting each other up with the cutest of little animal memes/videos, mean so much to me, just like you mean so much to me. I'm so grateful you're a part of my life. <3

@secretaryunpaid - Cher! You are just one of a kind. I know we have not had as much time to chat, and I miss that so much. But I'll always treasure our talks - the laughs and the deeper moments alike. You are someone that I know I would get into so much trouble with - and I love that! lol We know kindred spirits when they enter our lives. Thank you so much for your kindness and support, not only to me but also to so many here, and thank you for your friendship always! <3

@annoyingmillenialnewbie - My greek sister! Sister of the traveling spanakopita! lol I know we've both been busy and have not had as much time to chat as in the past, but that does not mean you're any less special to me. I'm so glad this little slice of crazy brought us together and I plan to keep you, even when it's long gone. <3 Miss you φίλε μου. xoxo

@genevievemd - My sweet little sister. I don't have to go into great lengths to tell you what you mean to me here, because we know what our friendship is to each other. Knowing we understand each other and have each other's backs on even the darkest of days means more to me than you will ever know. Just this week alone you helped me more than you can know. I love your creativity and what you've given to this fandom, but most of all I value YOU and I'm so glad you're a big part of my life xoxo

@jamespotterthefirst - Amiga, where to begin? The laughs, the mischief, the thirsting, the wellness checks! lol, I know we both have times when we struggle, but it's amazing even when you're struggling, you still manage to make me smile and make me laugh. When times are dark, you remind me that, somehow, we'll make it through. I'm so glad to count you amongst my friends - fuck fandom friends - FRIENDS, and holy shit, the fear of us being on the same coast together! lol I literally cannot wait. Thanks for being a part of my life, my friend, and I will always cherish this place for bringing us together.

@liaromancewriter Mal it looks like we will be amongst the ones to turn the lights out here one day. lol And I'm so grateful for that! Thank you for remaining our queen of fluff and for sharing your talents with us, and thanks SO MUCH for taking over CFWC this year. I know it's a lot of work, and I would have hated to see it go away, it was so much easier "retiring" knowing it was in good hands. Thanks for the laughs, the chats, and helping hold up the fort! I'm not the only one who considers myself lucky to have you here. <3

@potionsprefect - Alice! Another I'm not leaving until I say I'm leaving member of the OH fandom! lol I'm so glad you're still here and we still get to revel in Ethan/Victoria and of course Luke/Lily. I'm so proud of you for all you've accomplished in real life and still love shaking our heads together! (And there is so much to shake at! lol) Thanks for being part of the fandom & part of my world! <3

OK, these five ladies are not around anymore, but I'm mentioning them nonetheless. Fortunately, I'm still in touch with all of them to one degree or another, and they know how much they mean to me. I can't tell you how much I've missed you being here, but we have your old works to remember you by. I'm so glad this crazy place brought us together. @danijimenezv @lucy-268 @writer-ish @bex-la-get @a-crepusculo

Some people have supported my creations for so long, and I want each of you to know how much I appreciate it! Thanks so much for your ongoing support: @mrs-ramsey @onikalover @differenttyphoonwerewolf @kyra75 @custaroonie

@youlookappropriate @kingliam2019 @delmissesryanandcassi

These people help make the fandom a better place just by being in it. Your kindness, support, and positivity do not go unnoticed, and you create a brighter space for all of us. Thank you! 🩷🩷 I've been lucky enough to talk with some of you privately. We've shared lovely conversations and helped lift each other when needed. I hope you all know how precious you are to me!

@ladylamrian @cadybear420 @petalouda85 @rosesnink @dutifullynuttywitch

@lorircreates @moominofthevalley @petiteboheme @cryomyst @princess-geek

@tessa-liam @missameliep @trappedinfanfiction @takeharryandgo @thosehallowedhalls

@crazy-loca-blog @rafasgirl23415 @tveitertotwrites @thefirstcourtesan @sillydg

To some people I've been lucky enough to get to know in the past year. Whether it's been through our creations, playing reblog games, geeking out over music or our MCs, or just sharing in conversation - I'm so glad we've gotten to know each other! 🩷🩷 @renninflight @choices-ceri @brycesgirl @snoopdogcone

I always worry that I've missed someone, and with my Swiss-cheese brain- it's likely I did here. But, I want to send love and appreciation to anyone who has ever crossed my path here.

Elsa xo

@choicesfandomappreciation

[gloomwitchwrites]

Dangerous Pursuit // Chapter Six

Captain John Price x Female Reader

Chapter Specific Warnings: graphic gun violence, blood, swearing, time jump

Word Count: 5.3k

Dimitri's capture causes deadly consequences. An uprooted life comes to a grinding halt when a familiar face makes an unexpected appearance.

Chapter Five // Chapter Seven

ao3 // main masterlist // dangerous pursuit masterlist

The text stares back at you like an angry, red wound.

Really? They want you to come in for a mandatory meeting on a weekday? At the last minute?

Sighing loudly, you send a reply to your boss at Thirst. You’ll be there, but because it’s outside of your contracted hours, you’ll be late. It’s frustrating because they know this, and yet they’re expecting it from you anyway. The whole reason you took the job at Thirst is because it never bleeds into your regular life. They are separate. Complete fractured. Untouching.

That is not the case at the moment. And it’s frustrating.

This “mandatory” meeting is supposed to start when you get off work from your day job. You won’t arrive at Thirst in time for the start of the meeting, but hopefully they’ll begin without you. That way, you can sneak in for the last bit and not have to stay long. The only silver-lining to this ridiculous request.

Checking the time, you frown.

Your boss sent out the message two hours ago which is not nearly enough notice. The wording of it is odd too. Beginning with an apology about the last second meeting, he then emphasizes the urgency of everyone attending. From your two years of working at Thirst you’ve never been asked to come to any staff meeting. If information needs to be distributed, it always occurs when you walk through the door for your shift.

On top of that, Steve, one of the two owners who sent the text out, is never urgent about anything. He is incredibly relaxed, sometimes almost too calm for your liking, and he rarely—if ever—contacts you outside working hours unless it’s to ask for you to come in a bit early for a scheduled shift.

“Whatever,” you mutter, locking your phone and stowing it in your purse. You’ll deal with it when you arrive. Right now, you need to fucking focus.

But the urgency and anxiousness of the text’s wording stays with you through the rest of your shift. Like an unsuspecting water-filled pothole, you’re waiting for the drop, for the squealing crunching bounce, and the eventual check engine light to come on.

Something isn’t right, but you have no idea what it might be.

It is plaguing, insisting feeling that pushes down on your shoulders and rests it’s chin on the top of your head like an acquaintance that is much too close for comfort.

After you left the VIP room, Dimitri didn’t call on you again, and you didn’t dare return to the room until you were sure it was empty. Price didn’t ask for you either. He did not reach out, or even attempt to contact you. One part of you brain tells you to not care while the other says that you should be irate. That if Price cared at all, even a little, he’d slip something your way.

Megan, Olivia, and Addie returned solemn and slightly distant. At first, you thought they might have been upset about Dimitri pushing you on Price, but the idea swiftly left your head when Megan winced as she sat.

You have no idea what happened in that room afterward. And you didn’t notice any physical marks or bruises on any of the three women. But their demeanors were melancholic, their gazes not focused on anything in particular, and they never spoke to you or anyone else who tried to make conversation with them.

Maybe that’s what the meeting is about? Maybe it has something to do with security and ways to protect the staff who are put in vulnerable and precarious situations? There are panic buttons in all of the VIP rooms for a reason. Sure, clients pay good money for privacy, but they are also expected to hold themselves to certain expectations and standards. Not physically harming members of staff is number one on that list. Steve, and his co-owner Tom, are very particular about this rule.

When the hour arrives and you leave, you’re a boiling mess, a creature skulking in the shadows, anxious that a predator is awaiting out in the open dark. The restlessness only intensifies when you arrive at Thirst. The employee parking lot is full. Everyone appears to be here but it’s also possible a few will be missing or running late like you.

Slipping out of your car, you rummage around in your purse for a piece of gum. Just as you find one and pop it into your mouth, you reach for the large metal keypad to punch in your unique employee code but freeze when you notice something wet dripping from it.

Frowning, you peer closer at the dark liquid.

Is Greg eating quarter pounders again? The man has a knack for getting ketchup all over his hands and accidentally spreading it to the oddest places around the building.

But ketchup is bright red and glossy. This is dark and deep like velvet, not nearly as thick as a sauce but not fluid like water. Whatever it is, it’s smeared on the door handle and pools between the buttons.

Your stomach drops to your toes.

You don’t like this. It’s…strange. Odd.

Instead of touching the keypad or handle, you open your purse and retrieve a little package of tissues. Taking several out, you use them as a shield between your skin and the contaminated keypad, punching your code in.

The door lock beeps. The red light turns green.

Using the same tissues, you push down on the handle and then outward, the door swinging in easily. You step into the main employee hallway. The floors, wall, and ceiling are completely concrete. To your immediate right is a door to office where the owners, management, and the CCTV room are. There are two doors for bathrooms, and an opening in the wall that leads to the changing room and employee lockers.

The weirdest thing is that the overhead light isn’t on, and it doesn’t turn on when you enter. The only light comes from the opening in the wall where the dancers do their makeup and fix their dresses.

Again, strange. You’re so used to the sharp, almost sterile overhead light in this tiny space that its absence is ominous.

“What the fuck,” you murmur.

Maybe the light is out and just needs replacing. Maybe the sensor is bad. There are a number of reasons why the light doesn’t come on. Why is it all bothering you so much? It’s probably nothing, and the primitive part of your brain is simply conjuring up the fear of the unknown.

You head down the short hall and step through the opening. Even here, the light is dim. To your right is a wide hall. The massive walk-in closet with employee uniforms, props, and costumes along with changing rooms is that way. Employee lockers line the entire length of the hall. It’s also the same hall that connects to the wine cellar, dry storage, and the beverage cooler. Shoved in that back area is also a tiny kitchen for those guests who order food.

In front of you are rows of vanities, mirrors, shelving with wigs, hats, and all sorts of miscellaneous items. This room is typically bright and welcoming. It always smells of perfume, cleaning solution, and whatever flowers have been delivered that day. But again, the only light comes from four vanities where the bulbs around the mirrors are on.

And it’s so…quiet. You expect to see a shadow lingering in a corner, or the dark outline of a phantom silhouette. Glancing down at the slightly crushed tissues in your hand, you notice the flecks of red. But you’re in the dark, and so you step up to one of the vanities, tipping the tissue into the light.

Crimson. Almost wine-like in color.

Not ketchup. Not food. Not—

Your head snaps up at the sound of a raised voice. Distantly, through the interior door that leads into Thirst’s main room, you hear it again. Whoever is speaking is muffled, and you are unable to make out what it is that is being said.

Dropping the tissues into the trash can, you pad softly across the concrete floor and to the door. You do not open it. Instead, you press your ear to it, listening. There is quiet for some seconds, and then the voice starts up again. You are still in the dark, still incapable of deciphering who the speaker is and what is coming out of their mouth.

But you also don’t want to go out there. Taking great care not to make any noise, you open the door just enough to peer through a small crack.

As your eyes take in the sight before, and relay those signals to your brain, your heartrate increasing, becoming a storm, thudding so loudly your ears vibrate.

Out on the main floor, standing before the seated employees of Thirst are armed men.

There are seven in total. Six of them are in all black tactical gear with balaclavas covering everything but their eyes. The guns they carry are large, easily high capacity. They are unmoving, a small wall standing in a formal line behind their leader.

It is not Dimitri. Nor is it Nikola. It is also not any of the other men you’ve seen with Dimitri whenever he’s been in the VIP room. And it’s not Price.

This is someone else, and like Dimitri, you sense the quiet violence within him. But this is sharper, a slice of venom that can boil you from the inside out. Dimitri is a demon with a forked tongue and sharp claws. This man is so much greater, so much more malevolent.

His presence is striking and you expect smoke to roll out from his nostrils or for him to grow horns. His face is marked with scars that crisscross over each other, and his dark hair is pulled up into a bun on the back of his head. The man easily has to be closing in on seven feet tall.

No. This is not Dimitri.

And it is not Price or his team.

With shaking fingers, you withdraw your phone from your pocket, skimming through your contacts. You pass Price’s name twice before you can control your fingers enough to tap on his name. The message you send to him is hasty, and likely gibberish, the phone screen itself more of a blur because—water drops onto the glass.

You bring one shaking hand up to your face and find your cheeks wet.

You choke back a sob as the text becomes a lone blurb on your screen.

Price said to contact him if anything happens. But will he answer? It’s been almost two weeks since that night when you and Price got the tension out of your systems. Two weeks. No contact. So why is it that you text him and not the police?

The answer is quite clear. What will they do anyway? They stay away from places like this. They look down on it. If anything, they’d likely wait outside the entire time and never actually come inside to rescue anyone.

You’re doing the right thing by contacting Price. You are.

Returning your phone to your pocket, your gaze falls on the men at the center of the room. The leader isn’t in nearly as much tactical gear as his friends. He wears a suit with a bulletproof vest over it, clearly not entirely concerned with his safety.

“I’ve been waiting long enough.” His Russian accent is thick like syrup. Dimitri’s is subdued, and now you question whether or not he was simply hiding it.

At the sound of his voice, several people flinch like they’ve received a physical blow.

“She’s on her way. I promise. You read the text, Damien.” That’s one of the owners, but you can’t see him. It sounds like Steve but you can’t be sure. Opening the door a bit more, you shift your head and located him near the front of the group.

She. She is on her way.

“I have three. I need all four.”

Damien grabs the owner by the back of the throat and lifts him into the air without breaking a sweat. There is a pause as Damien’s lip curls in disgust.

“Where is she!” roars Damien, tossing the man to the ground.

He is talking about you. You.

No one speaks. No one utters a word. Damien strides back and forth before the front row, his gaze deliberately landing on every person.

“My guns are gone. My men are dead. Another missing.” He comes to a stop, chest heaving with anger. “Money taken. No leads except this place.” His arms outstretch slightly and he glances around the large room.

Dimitri. He’s talking about Dimitri. All this time, Price kept mentioning that he was after a larger target, someone much higher on the scale. Is he talking about Damien? Or is there someone even higher than him that Price is after?

You distinctly remember Price and Dimitri talking about an exchange. That must be the missing guns and money. Damien’s men are dead and if Dimitri isn’t among them, then it has to be everyone else Dimitri has ever brought with him, possibly even more than that.

Price also mentioned that Dimitri and the people Price is after, are not simple petty criminals. Price is military which means these men and their actions have international consequences.

Damien’s arms fall to his sides. “And now you can’t tell me where the fourth whore is.” He points off to the side. “I have three.” You tip your head noticing Megan, Olivia, and Addie.

“She’s works elsewhere during the day. She’ll be here.”

Damien glances downward. His face is blank. Cold. One of the armed men behind Damien steps forward.

“No. No! Damien!”

“You’re annoying me, Steve,” says Damien, voice monotone.

The armed man drags Steve by his hair toward the dancefloor. Steve kicks out, legs flailing and useless. He reaches up to claw at the armed man’s hands, but his fingers cannot penetrate the gloves.

“If I am missing one,” says Damien calmly. Steve is dropped. He glances up. But the gun is already pointed at his face. And there is no pause between the rising of the arm and the pulling of the trigger. “Then the rest of you are at risk,” finishes Damien, shrugging his shoulders apathetically.

Several Thirst employees scream, and Damien immediately rolls his eyes in annoyance.

“Don’t do that,” he murmurs, shaking his head. Then, louder, “Don’t FUCKING SCREAM!” He strides forward and grabs someone by their hair, twisting sharply. He bends at the waist, getting down to their level. “I will rip out your vocal cords and fuck the hole I leave behind. Understand?”

Whoever he’s speaking to must respond because Damien lets go, standing tall again, pulling on his bullet-proof vest to adjust it. He breathes deep, and then exhales loudly as if this is his meditation.

Panic clogs your throat. Fuck it. You’re calling the police. Usually, you wouldn’t even fuck with them, but relying only on Price isn’t going to help you or anyone in that room. It certainly didn’t help Steve.

Your hands are shaking harder now, so much in fact that you can barely hold onto your phone. It keeps jumping around in your palms. The sweat isn’t helping either, and getting the lock screen to recognize your face and jump to the home screen is agony.

“Maybe we don’t need her,” shrugs Damien, glancing over at Megan, Olivia, and Addie. “We have the other three.”

Two of the stoic, tactical-clad men move, head in the women’s direction. You hear their pleas and soft cried of protest. Megan, Olivia, and Addie are dragged up front to where Damien stands. He towers over them.

You open the keypad, punching in the emergency number. But every time you hit the round, green circle with the phone in the middle, nothing happens.

“Please,” you whimper, smashing your finger down on it. “Please.”

Damien brushes one of Megan’s blonde locks behind her ear. “I need to know who you talked to. That’s all.”

Of the three, only Olivia stares the man down, fury in her face even as tears stain her cheeks. “None of us said anything to anyone,” she says through clenched teeth.

Using his gloved thumb, Damien gentle wipes away the tears on Megan’s face. “So beautiful,” he murmurs, but you don’t know if he’s giving her a compliment or simply speaking out loud.

Your finger comes down on the little green button again and this time it connects. Sighing with relief, you bring the shaking phone up to your ear only to be met with a busy signal.

“Fuck.”

Olivia’s gaze darts from Megan to Damien and back again. “Our job isn’t to care and it isn’t to listen.”

Damien drops his hand from Megan’s face. “To care? No. To listen?” He shakes a pointed finger in Olivia’s direction. “You always listen.” He taps the side of his head. “You have ears. Working, clearly, because Dimitri isn’t here. Neither are my guns.”

He moves like a viper, his hand grabbing the bottom of Olivia’s face to pull her in. “Which means someone talked.”

She tries to shake her head but his grip is iron-clad. “We didn’t. Not to anyone.”

“Are you speaking for yourself? Or for the three of you?” When Olivia doesn’t reply, his fingers squeeze and she gasps audibly. “Take accountability.”

“We didn’t say anything.”

“Then you’re not of any use to me.” The words are cold and dead. Using his grip on the bottom half of her face, Damien throws Olivia to the side. “Shoot her.”

“Oliva!” screeches Megan, trying to go to her.

The silence after the shot is deafening, and the resounding screams that come afterward are a wave, attempting to drown.

You begin to back away, the door softly closing. With phone still in hand, your try the emergency number again. Busy. Fucking busy.

Wasn’t there just something in the news about there not being enough phone operators for emergency calls? That the city was facing a massive hiring problem?

Before the door clicks, another shot rings out. This one makes you jump. Every muscle in your stomach and back tenses violently.

The flinch hurts, and you bend forward in pain.

A third shot cracks in the air. Something heavy slams into the door, shaking the frame.

You stumble backward, the phone starting to slip from your grip.

Another pop followed by silence followed by—tat tat. A raging ringing of rattling sound that goes on and on.

Endless. Endless. Endless.

You scream, dropping to the floor as pieces of the door blow inward, painting the air with pulverized wood.

Covering your face with your hands, you curl in on yourself, waiting for the silence. It comes, and you peek out from between your fingers at the door.

Dark red seeps in from underneath, creating little bloody rivers across the concrete, stretching and reaching like gnarled fingers or willowy tree branches.

You’re on your knees. Shaking. Searching. Head spinning.

Door. You need the door. The door to the outside. You need—

Another barrage starts up, and the door groans, bending inward from whatever weight is pushing on it from the other side.

Everything is going blurry. The tears that spill from your eyes blind you, distorting your vision as you try to lift yourself off the floor.

Where is your phone? Where is your fucking phone?

You drag yourself in a direction, seeking, seeking, finding only cold concrete. Desperation eases in, seizes your lungs, inflating and deflating the organ until you’re audibly gasping for air.

Finding purchase near one of the vanities, you pull yourself up to your feet, leaning all your weight on it. Fuck the phone. Leave. Leave. Run to your fucking car or across the street. Go anywhere.

Get help.

The rapidly repeating rattling ceases, and in its place is dead, stagnant silence.

Your feet are lead but they move, determined to ferry you to safety, to deliver you to the back door and out in open air. As you push off from the vanity, the worst possible thing happens. The backdoor opens. And with it comes voices. Not friendly ones.

The hall to your left is the only place for you to go.

Survival kicks in, adrenaline surging through your limbs as you hurl yourself down the hall. Loud footsteps close in, and you throw yourself into the first available hiding spot. It’s the massive storage room where all the uniforms, outfits, and changing stalls are. The stalls are too open, too vulnerable.

But there is plenty of storage in here for all the various clothes and odd knickknacks. Ducking behind a rack of clothes, you shimmy along the wall until you come to the standing shelves. There is just enough room for you to lay on your side between it and the wall.

Breathing is all you're capable of, all that you're able to focus on. Time is of no significance. Minutes or seconds pass, and perhaps they keep on going stretching into hours. You don’t count. You don’t blink. You simply exist as you attempt to calm your racing heart.

Distantly, you hear a loud groan followed by a massive thud. Maybe that’s the interior door finally falling off its hinges. And these two sounds are what snap you back to reality. You shift, and sharp pain shoots down your shoulder.

You blink, surprised, and then notice the red smeared across the wall where you touched it. There are more droplets on the ground out in the room, and a tiny trail that lead out into the hall.

There is silence again. Then a few quick shouts. A brief pop accompanied by another soon after. Quiet once again. The air conditioning kicks in, bringing with it a low hum. Your breathing seems overly loud, but you also know you’re tightly crammed into a small space.

Black boots appear, pausing right inside the doorway. You didn’t even hear their approach. Between their feet are bloody droplets. Your blood.

The boots shift, take two steps forward in the direction of your hiding spot. Cold creeps in. Becomes dark. The boots scrunch slightly as whoever it is bends down next to where your blood trail abruptly ends before disappearing behind the clothes racks.

A gloved hand hovers just above those final droplets but do not make contact. Whoever it is promptly stands, facing the racks of clothes that hide your smeared blood on the wall. They start moving the clothes, ripping them from hooks to fall to the floor.

Another pair of boots appears in the doorway. A brief few seconds pass before they head in the direction of the other pair. There is a muffled sound, and what might be a struggle. Your answer comes quick.

One of Damien’s men collapses onto his back, vacant eyes staring up at nothing, the handle of knife sticking out from his throat.

There is a collective silence before hands are on you, dragging you from your hiding spot. You screech like a terrified animal. Kicking out with feet, clawing whoever this is with nails, teeth snaping in preparation to sink into flesh.

“It's me.” The back of your hand connects with something hard. “Stop. It's me. It's me.”

You cease your thrashing, staring into eyes that you know so well.

“John,” you breathe.

Price has both hands on your upper arms. He’s in full tactical gear. While he appears calm of the surface, you can see the slight panic in his eyes as his gaze darts across your face and over your body.

“I've got you,” he murmurs, one hand releasing your arm to grasp the side of your face, cradling your cheek. “You're fine.”

Ignoring the pain in your shoulder that screams its frustration, you wrap your arms around Price’s neck as the tears come fast and heavy and hard.

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs. “When he bagged Dimitri, I should have known—I’m sorry.”

You cling harder, fingers digging into the collar of his uniform. Price gentle squeezes your waist, his face slightly turned into your neck.

With a softness that soothes, Price slowly draws you away from him, but only enough so that he can look at your face. A gloved thumb runs along your cheekbone, drying some of the tears.

“You came,” you whisper.

“For you. I came for you.” Price smiles tenderly, but it falters as he tips is head like he’s listening to something. The middle of his brow creases as he reaches up to press what must be a communication device. “Dressing room,” he says.

He releases the button and grasps the side of your face, gaze sad and intense. Price’s frown deepens. “You’re injured.”

Before you can answer, Ghost appears in the doorway, saying nothing. Price twists to glance at the behemoth of a man.

“Petrova ran,” states Ghost blandly.

“Fuck,” mutters Price. “We have eyes on him?”

“No.”

“Likely going to ground to lick his wounds before facing Makarov.”

“He’ll want his money,” replies Ghost.

“And his weapons,” adds Price. He turns back to you and smiles sadly. “Is it ready, Simon?” he asks over his shoulder.

Frowning, you pull back, glancing first at Price and then at Ghost who—like his namesake—has moved closer to Price’s side without making a sound.

“I'll get her to Laswell,” answers Ghost.

“I'm sorry," Price says again, just as Ghost holsters his gun and Price steps back, leaving you empty and hollow. Ghost, with a single movement, sweeps you off your feet and into his arms.

Price follows the two of you out and into the main room you were in earlier. There are more tactical gear-clad people here, loitering around. Ghost turns into that small hallway where the backdoor stands propped open. Over his shoulder, you glimpse the downed interior door, the smears of red, and the pile of unmoving limbs.

"I'm sorry," Price repeats. "You know too much."

It’s a goodbye. A final farewell. Your lips form a soft o as you try to form a coherent response.

"Keep her safe, Simon. I'm counting on you."

Three Years Later

A rush of autumn air slips underneath your coat. The wind brings a shiver to your skin, and you wrap your coat tightly around your middle. The taxi behind you pulls back into traffic, and you are left alone on the curb.

So much has changed, and yet you feel no different.

Ghost brought you to a woman named Laswell. She was kind but direct, and explained that you’d need to be relocated elsewhere. Mostly for your personal safety, but also so that the government could keep an eye on you. You weren’t in trouble, that’s what Laswell said, but it still felt like it.

The only silver-lining in them uprooting your life is the care taken to make sure you could start over. Your mother’s unpaid medical bills disappeared. All the debt melted away. The master’s degree you pursued was discreetly changed so that you retained your education but the last name was different. They even went so far as to help you gain employment.

Laswell was thorough. And you appreciated the effort, knowing that Price likely had a hand in making sure you were taken care of.

But it’s been three years. Three long years and so much has changed.

You’re not working for the same place. You’re not in the same apartment. You’re not even in the same city anymore. Life went on, and you moved with it. Laswell has never reached out. Price certainly hasn’t.

Everything that happened, everything that occurred, is in the past. Haunting you still but so far removed at this point you rarely glance back at it. A small piece still lingers on a specific person, but that too is becoming a solitary, dull ache.

You push through the door in front of you, retreating from the cold. Inside, the restaurant is warm and inviting. All hardwood and gold trim. Lingering near the hostess stand, chatting on the phone, is your boyfriend, Alex.

He glances up and smiles, his perfect white teeth on display. “Have to go. Yes. Tomorrow at one.” He pulls the phone away from his ear and ends the call.

“Didn’t want to wait for me at the table?” you tease, sliding up next to him.

He bends forward for a chaste kiss. “Wanted to walk with you.”

Alex extends his hand, indicating ladies first. Smiling at him, you follow the hostess to the table. Alex is quick to pull out your chair and help you slide into place. He takes the chair across the table.

This restaurant is your usual spot. Typically, you and Alex come for dinner, but he’s working late, and he made himself available at lunch to see you.

“Would you like menus today, Mr. Obolensky?”

An older gentleman with a receding hairline approaches the table. Ivan has waited on you and Alex for every meal. The man has to sleep somewhere in the back.

“Only for food.”

Ivan nods. “Would you like your usual wine for lunch?”

Alex inclines his head and Ivan promptly disappears.

Your relationship with Alex started rocky. When he first introduced himself, giving you is full name, your nervous system fell into a trauma response.

Alexandr Obolensky, or as his close friends call him, Alexi.

Maybe that notorious afternoon was still too ingrained in your system, because you closed up like a clam, awkward and nearly unresponsive. But over time, as he kept popping up in your life, you began to warm to him, and quickly realized that his interest was more than friendly.

Now, you’re staring at his smiling face across the table, wondering how you got so lucky.

He rests his arm on the table, presenting his hand, palm upward. You take it, fingers intertwining. His thumb rubs slow strokes over your knuckles.

Alex’s phone buzzes on the table but he ignores it. It buzzes again. Still, Alex ignores it.

“Popular.”

He shrugs. “They can wait.”

It starts up again, and Alex frowns down at it.

“Answer it,” you sigh. He’s an incredibly busy individual working at his father’s PR firm. There have been numerous late nights and countless overseas traveling.

Alex shakes his head. “I’m at lunch. With you. That is more important.”

When his phone starts buzzing again, you laugh and Alex groans.

“Just answer it,” you laugh. “Must be important.”

“I want it noted that you are insisting,” he jokes, snatching the phone off the table. He slides his thumb across the screen and brings it up to his ear, answering with an irritated, “What?”

The annoyance on his face starts to slip, replaced with concern. “When?” A pause. “Fuck,” mutters Alex, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Yeah. I’ll handle it.” He ends the call and glances up from the screen.

“Go,” you murmur, nodding toward the restaurant’s front door. “It’s not a big deal.”

“It is a big deal,” he replies. “I promised you lunch.”

You shrug. “It’s just lunch.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes,” you laugh. “Go.”

Alex stands just Ivan reappears with the wine. “Apologies, Ivan. I have to leave.”

“Certainly Mr. Obolensky.”

He turns to you. “Order whatever you want.” He looks back at Ivan. “Put it all on my account.”

“Of course, Mr. Obolensky.”

“Madam.” Ivan presents the food menu, and then proceeds to open the bottle of wine. He fills your glass, and places the bottle next it. “Would you like a tour of the menu?”

“No. Thank you, Ivan. I just need a few minutes.”

He nods and disappears.

You and Alex have eaten here on so many occasions that you already know most of the dishes, but you like to look anyway, pretending that you’ll choose something different this time.

A shadow of a body moves into view above the menu. You don’t glance up, knowing that it’s likely Alex returning, probably forgetting something like his coat.

You glance up from the menu. “Forget some—”

Your words leave you like air escaping from a popped balloon.

It’s not Alex sitting across from you at the table.

“Hello, love. Been a while.”

It’s John.

[ther3allyra]

Christmas argument

Veneer x GN!reader

Summary: When you go out to secretly buy your boyfriend a Christmas present, he ends up getting worried sick starting and argument and turning to velvet to advice. Only leading to the both of you trying to comfort each other in the end.

Type: Hurt/Comfort

Warnings: swearing

Word count: 826

A/N: MERRY CHRISTMAS PEEPS, hope y’all like this & this was a Christmas gift for the AMAZING @arknq so I especially hope you enjoyed this <3

The car door beeped as you opened the door stepping into it, Veneer had fallen asleep giving you the perfect opportunity to wiggle out of his grasp on his bed and sneak off to buy him a Christmas gift. You didn’t think you’d take to long so you quickly drove to the jewellery shop where you new you’d be able to get the perfect gift, you’d been dying to get a new ring for yourself and what better than to do matching rings with Veneer! Just as you pulled up outside the shop that’s when you heard it. The constant buzzing noise coming from your jacket pocket.

‘What the-‘ you mumbled taking at your phone and unlocking it, you stare in disbelief at the phone screen. Well shit!. You thought to yourself 15 missed calls and 9 text messages, god you’d only been gone for about 19 minuets, you loved Veneer with your whole heart but damn he was clingy sometimes.

You quickly hurried into the shop looking for the two ring set and there you found it, a silver and diamond ring with a matching silver and diamond band ring. You thought it was gorgeous and you couldn’t wait until Veneer opened his on Christmas Day. You quickly payed for the items and got back in the car where your phone had gone off, yet again. You sent Veneer a quick text telling him ‘I’m out right now, be back soon I love you xx’, to which he replied by ignoring you. This was soon to cause a fight when you got back.

Pulling up outside his and Velvets mansion, the sensation of guilt I’m your stomach for leaving Veneer without telling him, you slid out of the car door trying to sneak back in the house without notice to where Veneer was just coming down the stairs as you walked in the entrance. There were no words of you and Veneer wasn’t being clingy, he just looked at you, scoffed and walked away which left you stood there simply in disbelief. You knew what had happened, he’d gone to velvet and she’d told him to act petty and give you the silent treatment . Sure enough this would cause an argument later between the both of you, sure arguments were very rare but when they happened oh boy where they some of the worst.

Closing the door as gentler as you could feeling your anger rise, you quickly headed upstairs hiding the gift and sitting there waiting for Veneer to come in, soon enough he did and oh boy was he fuming.

‘Where the fuck have you been’ he stated extremely pissed off, as he leaned against his bedroom door frame.

‘I was out, for fuck sakes cant I do ANYTHING on me own?!’ You answered back almost shouting at him, this made him step back from you.

‘NOT WHEN THERES WEIRD FUCKING PEOPLE OUT THERE NO!’ He screamed.

‘LIKE FUCKING WHO?! I KNOW YOUR DAMN PROTECTIVE OF ME BUT FOR GOD DAMN FUCKING SAKES, I WAS JUST TRYING TO BUY YOU A CHRISTMAS GIFT’ You could feel your eyes fill with tears, you knew he was just trying to protect you from stalkers and such and you didn’t have to be so mean, but the protectiveness was to much sometimes.

You watched as Veneer’s face stared at you in disbelief and his lips form an ‘O’ shape, as he watches the tears began to fall from your face. He rushed forward wrapped his arms around your back taking you to the bad, so your sat in his lap as he’s running his hands up and down your back. You quietly sob into his chest as he mutters ‘I’m sorry’ a few times. The both of you simply sit there for a while with no one talking, before you dry your eyes and look up at him.

‘Look Veneer’ You started with a sigh, ‘I’m sorry I know your just trying to protect me’

‘Hang on baby’ he muttered giving you a kiss on the cheek, ‘I know I’m clingy and over protective but I just don’t want to loose you, partially because of some weird stalkers but mainly because I don’t wanna loose you, I’m scared you’ll get up and leave’

You stare and Venner, you leave him? You thought he’d leave you. ‘Look Veneer, I promise I’ll never leave you ok, I love you so fucking much just only promise to leave me go out once in a while, and I’ll text you updates when I go out on my own’

‘Sounds like a deal to me!’ He smiled at you.

You reached into your pocket slightly laughing, to Veneer’s surprise you pulled out some mistletoe.

‘How about a Christmas kiss, huh?’ You laughed and Veneer leaned down and capturing your lips in a kiss, your hands slowly grasping his hair humming against his lips, it truly was the best Christmas ever.