#WARMS YOUR FELLOW-HUNTER-WIFE HEART RIGHT UP.

[comradesblogs]

Mysteries In The Village: Part Two

Surgg woke up with a start, his body aching and sore. He was disoriented and confused, unsure of where he was or how he had gotten there.

As he struggled to his feet, he realized that he was in a dark cave, surrounded by the corpses of several small serpents. All of which lay dead.

He had to get out of there. He had to get back to his village and get help. But he knew that the journey wouldn't be easy. The jungle was filled with dangers, and he would have to rely on his wits and his strength if he wanted to survive.

Surgg gathered his supplies and set out into the jungle, his senses heightened as he navigated the dense foliage. He moved quickly, knowing that he had to put as much distance between himself and the serpent's lair as possible.

Days turned into weeks, and Surgg's journey seemed to have no end. But he refused to let his spirits flag, knowing that every step brought him closer to home.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Surgg emerged from the jungle, battered and bruised but alive. As he stumbled into the village, he was greeted by a chorus of cheers and applause.

His family and friends rushed to his side, tears streaming down their faces as they embraced him. Surgg's mother and father hugged him tightly, their relief and joy palpable.

"We thought we had lost you," his mother sobbed, her eyes shining with tears. "We are so glad you are home."

Surgg hugged her back, feeling a sense of joy and gratitude wash over him. He had made it home, and he had brought peace back to his village.

As Surgg stood there, surrounded by his loved ones, he was interrupted by the village chieftain.

"Surgg, my son," the chieftain said, his voice grave and serious. "I must speak with you."

Surgg nodded, his heart sinking. He knew that the chieftain only called for him when something serious was at stake.

As the two men walked back to the chieftain's hut, Surgg described the details of his journey. He told the chieftain about the serpent's lair and the vicious serpents that he had encountered. He told him about the dangers he had faced and the challenges he had overcome.

The chieftain listened attentively, his eyes narrowed in thought. As Surgg spoke, he could see the fatherly love and concern etched on the chieftain's face.

As Surgg and the chieftain entered the hut, Surgg couldn't help but be struck by its grandeur. The hut was a testament to the chieftain's status and power, and it was clear that it was the center of the village.

The hut was made of mud and thatch, with sturdy poles supporting the roof. A fire burned brightly in the center of the room, casting a warm glow throughout the space. The walls were adorned with pelts of all shapes and sizes, each one a testament to the chieftain's prowess as a hunter.

The floor was made of packed dirt, and in the center of the room stood a large, ornately carved chair. This was the chieftain's throne, and it was clear that it was the seat of power in the village.

As Surgg and the chieftain took their seats, the chieftain's wife brought them each a bowl of steaming broth. Surgg accepted the bowl gratefully, his stomach growling with hunger.

As he sipped the broth, Surgg couldn't help but feel a sense of awe and respect for the chieftain. He was the leader of their tribe, and he had guided them through countless challenges and dangers.

"You are a brave man, Surgg," the chieftain said, his eyes narrowed in thought. "You have brought peace back to our village, and for that, we are all grateful."

Surgg nodded, feeling a sense of pride and accomplishment wash over him.

"But I must ask you something," the chieftain continued. "Why did you go alone? Why did you not bring any of your fellow hunters with you?"

Surgg hesitated, unsure of how to answer. He knew that the chieftain was right. He had taken a great risk by going alone.

"I didn't want to risk anyone else's life," Surgg said, his voice grave and sincere. "I knew that the serpent was a formidable foe, and I didn't want to put anyone else in danger."

The chieftain nodded, his face etched with understanding.

"I see," he said, his voice soft and thoughtful. "You are a brave and selfless man, Surgg. But you must also remember that we are a community, and we must rely on each other to survive. You cannot take on every challenge alone. You must trust in your fellow hunters and work together to achieve your goals."

Surgg nodded, his heart heavy with the weight of the chieftain's words. He knew that the chieftain was right. He had been foolish to go alone, and he vowed to remember the importance of community and teamwork in the future.

"I understand chieftain." Surgg said bowing his head in respect.

"I am glad to hear it, Surgg," he said, his voice laced with pride. "You are a valuable member of our tribe, and I have no doubt that you will continue to bring honor and glory to our village. Remember, it is not just our own strength and courage that will help us survive and thrive, but the strength and courage of our entire community. We are all in this together, and we must work as one to overcome any obstacle that comes our way."

Surgg nodded, taking the chieftain's words to heart. He knew that he had much to learn, but he was determined to be a leader and a role model for his community. He would work hard to earn the respect and trust of his fellow hunters, and he would do everything in his power to protect and serve his tribe.

"Thank you, chieftain," Surgg said, his voice filled with gratitude. "I will remember your words always, and I will do my best to be a valuable member of our community."

The chieftain smiled, his eyes shining with pride.

"I know you will, Surgg," he said. "You are a true hero, and I have no doubt that you will continue to bring honor and glory to our village. Now, go and rest. You have earned it, after which we must discuss dire matters regarding the continued security of our community."

Surgg nodded, feeling a sense of exhaustion wash over him. He had been through so much in the past few weeks, and he was ready for some rest and relaxation.

As he made his way back to his hut, he was celebrated by those who passed him, thanking him for his service to the community. Meanwhile the other hunters of the village appeared upset at Surgg. A problem for another day, for now he must rest.

[luminousnotmatter]

You Can Sleep Now

Another little *gestures at this* for my lovely, my lady  @damerondjarin     . Because of I-love-her-and-she-always-deserves-it reasons. 💖💕 

A Hunter x Reader Story  Word Count: 1,900 or so.  Rating: F for Fluffiest Fluff to ever Fluff. It’s so gooey and soft and sleepy and sweet, my dudes. 🥰🤷‍♀️💖

Hunter is good at avoiding disturbance. He always has been. He's always had to be. Stealth, mastering the element of surprise; it's all part of his purposefully-enhanced, specialized skillset. So it's rare that he finds himself in a situation in which he *can't* slip in, around, out, unnoticed.

But this.....could prove challenging.

The Marauder streaks through hyperspace. An armored haven in the endless dark and countless stars. Ord Mantell, Cid's Parlor, is its destination.  The squad has just completed their latest mercenary job for the Trandoshan, it's time to collect their cut. More than that, everybody is ready for some time to lay low. To rest. As their comrade, Hunter shares the sentiment. He's tired, it would be nice to spend a few days not looking over their shoulders quite so often, feeling some small semblance of safe, however temporarily. Which they seem to be able to do, to a degree, when they're on Ord Mantell. But as their leader, responsible for their welfare, and given their experiences since....the clone Sergeant thinks of a small head of floppy, light hair and a pair of soft, brave, vulnerable, honey eyes. The now-familiar fist of impossibly-strong fondness squeezes around his heart. Since Omega entered their lives, after the changes that the entity which used to be called The Republic has undergone lately, the choices The Batch has had to make as a result...well....they can't necessarily afford the normal, everyday definition of what ordinary people would call "safe." There's too much exposure, too much risk.

But kriff, these thoughts only wear the man out more. If he's honest with himself, he's definitely ready to put them away for a little while. His hours on watch at the ship's helm are over, Echo came onto the bridge, still yawning and bleary-eyed, to relieve him. He's removed his armor and headband, setting them to the side in a tidy heap, now he can rest.

Or, rather, he can, if and when he figures out how to lay down.

Without disturbing you. 

When it's time for rest, on most occasions you both go to bed at the same time, or closely after one another, to avoid this very problem. Not today though. Today you're sound asleep already. In his bunk. In your shared bunk. The correction, the change, is becoming automatic now, less unexpected and different. Still surprises him how much he likes it though. Every day.

Hunter's hands come to rest on his hips. He rolls his neck to crack it, sighing in relief. Brow furrowed, he considers things. Blinks his burning, tired eyes hard a few times. Ambient sounds: the engines in hyperdrive, Marauder's computers, sleeping breaths pulled in and released, pulled in and released, flow comfortably in the air around him.

The sleeping space he shares with you is at least slightly bigger than it used to be, back before he had a nightly companion. The rest of the squad, you and Omega included, had worked together to salvage materials and rig up a sort of platform to extend the width of the bunk just a bit. "It was only logical, given the new...arrangement, between both of you." had been Tech's matter-of-fact explanation upon the presentation of the improvement to the squad's leader. Hunter remembers the sparkles in your eyes in tandem with your tight lips; betraying your repressed humor, as you'd met his gaze with your own, him quirking one eyebrow, your cheeks blooming one spot each of soft pink. He's not wrong, a silent admission passing between you. Omega's innocent addition, "Yeah! We want you two to be comfortable, not cramped and sore!" Her short legs swinging back and forth from atop the "new" portion of the bed. Wrecker had definitely snorted then, at the unintended innuendo, and begun smirking, Echo elbowing him in the ribs, yet also grinning, in the Sergeant's peripheral vision.

So, yes, there's more room than there used to be, but it's still not a lot extra. Which is what makes this tricky.

Curled on your side away from him, half your face is pressed into his pillow, rather than yours. He doesn't mind. He likes the way it smells of your skin afterward. Your hair is mussed, unrulier than during waking hours. Clad in one of his old blacks shirts which he knows you like because it's big and soft and worn-in, and carries his scent. The blanket has slipped off your shoulder to wrinkle around the crook of your elbow and droop over your back. Hunter watches goosebumps roll over your skin; it does tend toward coldness in this part of the ship. You shiver a bit, without waking, burrowing yourself tighter into the cushioned bedding. Pulling on the blanket a little, but not succeeding in getting it all the way back over yourself.

That same fist around his heart he registered earlier, thinking of Omega; looking at you now, it's back, and it's powerful. There's some kind of cavern inside his body and it just fills and fills and fills with everything he feels about you. Feels for you.

You're so still. There's such a peace about you that Hunter is reluctant to possibly break....but all the same. He needs sleep, it'll be better for everyone, you included, if he gets it. So, he'll just do his best not to wake you.

Quietly, the sergeant steps close and lifts one foot, resting it gingerly beside your legs. What makes this especially difficult is the fact that you are on the outside edge, the added platform, and he needs to be on the inside on the normal bunk, against the wall. You'd both decided that would be the way to go, neither trusting completely in the ability of the extra space to fully support his weight. Lifting the blanket off his side of the mattress, placing it temporarily down towards the end, s l o w l y. He sets one knee on the bed after the other, then just keeps maneuvering, keeps shifting, inch by careful inch, splitting his gaze between what he's doing: so he can avoid making any jarring moves, and your face: to make sure you're not waking up. So far you haven't.

Right when he's sure he's succeeded, he's about to lower himself and pull up the blanket, he feels and hears you shift more significantly. You groan and stretch, shivering a bit more. Hunter sighs, drops his chin to his chest, disappointed in himself. What happened? Was it the cold air? Did he jostle you without realizing it?

He rests on his back, inhaling and exhaling another deep sigh, this time of (finally) full relaxation. Letting the cushion absorb every bit of tension that's draining from his muscles. Turning onto his side, watching you as you stir. Your eyes are squeezing tight and trying to open, slow blinks and an unfocused gaze. You lift your left hand to knuckle sleepily at your eyes, and the action, so childlike, endearing, normal, Hunter can't help it, he reaches across to you and gently strokes the slope of your nose. Just once. The feel of your skin, even just a simple brush, warms him, right in his belly. There's an ache in his chest too.

"Sorry." he whispers. A barely-audible hum at the back of his throat.

You are finally actually looking at him, seeing him in-focus, rather. "Hmm?" your voice rasps, "For what?" You tuck one hand under your cheek and with the other grab his hand where it still rests by your face, entwining your fingers with his. Squeezing firmly. Hunter would swear nothing has ever felt so good, so right in his grasp. No weapon, no ship's controls, nothing.

His brow furrows. "Didn't I wake you?"

"No, I don't think so." your murmur through a yawn. Then, almost as if you can sense his still-concerned expression sweeping your face, "It's okay, Sergeant. I was already waking up." You free the hand under your cheek, tracing what you can access of the tattooed half of his face. Your fingers are cool, delicate. More warmth pools itself in the pit of his stomach. He leans into your hand, effectively squishing it beneath his cheek, your thumb alone remaining free to follow his cheekbone. Back and forth, back and forth.

He breathes more easily then. His eyelids are already heavy, but he doesn't want to succumb yet, not till he knows you'll be able to return to sleep first. "Okay. I just..." he can't fight his own yawn, "was trying to get in bed without wakin' you."

Your sweet smile is audible in your voice. "It's alright. You didn’t. I know it's a ti--" you go silent, someone else is stirring-Hunter can tell immediately that it's Wrecker (the big man grumbles in his sleep, has a particular pattern of breathing, and his bunk has always creaked)-and rolling over in their bunk nearby. Once they're settled back down, you continue, "it's a tight fit. But it's alright, you're just fine, Love. You can go to sleep now, yeah?"

You close the little remaining distance between your mouths to press yours to his with agonizing, aching, gentle tenderness. The warmth from his stomach has spread to his limbs now, his cheeks and chest too. Hunter swallows after the kiss, nodding against your forehead. "Sleep, Hunter." you intone once more. Soothing. Low. He's aware of your fingers tangled in his hair, curling and uncurling against his scalp at the nape of his neck.

"Alright." Before obeying though, he pulls you close by the hand you're holding, moving onto his back and tugging the blanket up over the pair of you. All in one fluid motion. You settle snug and comfortable against him, his arms enclosing your back. Your arm curls around his ribcage, your cheek pillowed now by his chest. Somehow he becomes more aware of the beat of his heart, knowing you can hear it drumming steadily away under your ear. The warmth of your body seeps into his through the two layers of material separating skin from skin.

Hunter knows well how to keep himself (and others) safe. In a myriad of ways. A thought dawns on him in this moment, however. It's surprising, new.  He often feels at his very safest just like this. Your form enclosed by his, the day's.... everything, set aside. This proximity, this trust, this bond between you which allows for mutual and complete rest , he's found a security in it that he might never have guessed was even available to him. With the life he's lead, what he's done and seen. But he has it.  Right now holding him and breathing and drifting slowly back to sleep: there it is. There you are.

He pulls you closer still, impossibly near now. Your breathing is already evening back out, but you turn your cheek slightly and kiss his chest. It's more like a bit of extra pressure with your mouth. He knows what you mean by it, what's really in it.

"G'night, riduur." the words fall from his lips. Slurred. Barely there. So sleepy.

Right as he looses consciousness he hears, "Night, Love." just as slurred. Barely-there. So sleepy. And he smiles.

[theotheroccassionalfanficwriter]

Cryo Archon!Childe fucking his wife on their wedding night and he gets her pregnant? and he's a little yandereish like the way you write him? your work is sublime

Thank you~! I had fun writing this since I never once entertained Childe being a cryo archon but the image of him having the signature tip dyed hair was simply o(*////▽////*)q

In Snezhnaya with Love

Summary: Cryo Archon's most treasured and beloved possession was not his gnosis, but the Tsaritsa that was protected in the depths of the Zapolyarny Palace.

--

Of the current Seven, the Cryo Archon, the Tsar of Snezhnaya was famed for his glorious victories in the battlefield, a once human who vanquished gods when meeting gods and slayed demons when meeting demons. All Snezhnayans held their Cryo Archon with high regards, loved him and respected him for all the battles he had won for himself and that of Snezhnaya. They tell the story of their Archon, the second to ascend among the Original Seven, whose battle prowess was second only to Morax of Liyue.

Though no one knew their Tsar’s once mortal name, their were many monikers he went by at the times he paraded himself as a mortal; Tartaglia of the Harbingers when in Snezhnaya, Childe when in Liyue, Herrscher in Mondstadt, Wakasama in Inazuma, Le Seigneur in Fontaine, Bhagavan in Sumeru, and Kasike in Natlan. Thus, the people of Snezhnaya found no need to discover their Archon’s once name.

And you were one of them, you had no need nor want to know the Cryo Archon, the Tsar, beyond what he wanted his people to know. All that mattered was that you loved him just as your fellow countrymen did. Though you were no devout follower of the Tsar, despite your status as the heiress of 10 Noble Houses of Snezhnaya’s high society, you still carried yourself like one.

You were after all graced with his element, and your Uncle Pulcinella’s position in the Harbingers ensured that you brought no shame to the prestige of your bloodline and your status as a Cryo Vision Holder. You were the embodiment of your Archon’s ideals, Strength not only to protect one’s self and family but also to challenge the Divine.

It was the price you willingly paid to enjoy the privileges your vision and status granted you. Perhaps in another world you would have gone on and married someone not out of love but out of duty, but such thoughts flew out of the window that one summer day in Morepesok.

It had been a vacation for you, a rare moment of freedom from the prying and judging eyes of the world. You had been allowed to roam free in your Uncle Pulcinella’s vacation villa in the rural seaside village. It was one of the top tourist destinations in Snezhnaya, a town seemingly stuck in time, where the rest of Snezhnaya was filled with towering buildings and skyscrapers of metal and light, Morepesok retained the traditional houses of Snezhnaya.

A rare glimpse of the past long gone. It was during this trip that you had your fateful encounter with the young man, his orange hair with sky blue tips that gently swayed in the cold wind, and his piercing blue eyes that had taken your breath away.

He smiled at you, curious and just a touch of arrogance that let you know he knew he was handsome. Your cheeks flushed not from the cold but from embarrassment.

“Hey there, girlie~!” He called out as he trotted towards you, his hunter attire letting you know he was one of the hunters of Morepesok.

“He-hello” You greeted him back, soft and shy. Stuttering as you felt your heartbeat quicken with each step that he took towards you.

“Don’t you know it’s dangerous in this area?” He asked you, eyes glinting with cold amusement and something in you wanted to rise to his unspoken challenge.

“Oh? Was there?” You replied, “With this being part of my uncle’s villa, I doubt that there is anything here that would be dangerous to me…”

His smile fades away and you continued, “Of course even if this part of the woods is no longer a part of his villa, other than our beloved Tsar’s ire, I would be the most dangerous creature out here.”

You punctuated your words with the masterful and powerful display of your control over Cryo. The frostarm lawachurl heading towards your location toppled over, the top of their head bleeding out from the spikes of cryo that burst out from their forehead. Their dying cry had the man before you looking back and his laughter echoed in the desolate winter forest of Morepesok.

“Hahahaha!” He laughed, hands on his stomach as he bent over “Amazing, comrade! This is the first time I’ve ever seen Cryo be used in such a way! Not even the Tsar was said to be that ruthless!”

You smiled at him, sweet and pleased at his praise, “Perhaps, our beloved Tsar has yet to meet an opponent that would make him use such cruelty.”

“Interesting, I’m Ajax of Morepesok. And you...must be Pulcinella’s treasured niece” His smile turned more genuine offering his hand to you he added, “Something tells me would get along most splendidly.”

And as you gave him your hand, he brought it close to his lips, kissing it gently and you knew, as the distant sound of the waves crashing into the shore sounded in the forest, that your first defeat was in the hands of this charming young man.

And it was your sweetest defeat, you spent most of your days in his cabin, an inheritance from his deceased family, your time split between sparring with him and going ice fishing. Each moment spent made you stronger, Ajax taught you in every weapon he knew. Each touch that corrected your stance sent shivers down your spine.

And neither of you shied away from the inevitable. His touches became less innocent, less sincere in teaching you. And you took every opportunity to have skinship with him, from taking advantage of the gentle cold air to asking for his help in reeling in the ridiculously large fishes in Morepesok.

Despite the never ending cold of Snezhnaya, the distance between you and Ajax slowly melted away with each shed of layer between the two of you. In his cabin, you were just a young maiden in love, and he was just your strong lover who sheltered you from the harshness of the world.

The domesticity of your everyday life with him lulled you into a false sense of comfort, the mornings and afternoons spent with him would come to an end. Maybe, it was the knowledge that you would never be able to return to this time, or perhaps it was your reluctance to be forgotten so easily that led to this point.

The moment Ajax had kissed you against his door, you had shed all pretense of propriety. You kissed him back, tongue entangling with his as his hands ventured down and began divesting you of your clothes. Neither of you stopped kissing as your hand went to his pants and unbuckled his belt, his hydro vision dropping to the ground in sync with him removing your top that held your cryo vision.

You broke off to breath and found your neck being kissed as Ajax lifted you up and you let out a surprised gasp. Your arms automatically embraced his neck as he brought you upstairs and into his bedroom. You had no chance to look around as he gently placed you atop his soft bed.

His lips trailed down from your neck to the center of your chest down to your groin, leaving a soft trail of kisses before he began to eat you out.

Outside the window of his room, snow fell harshly and the windows softly shook with each gust of wind. Idly you wondered what had made the Tsar rage about but this thought was lost to the lust and pleasure of your love making with Ajax.

You laid on his chest, utterly spent as he curled his arm around you and gave you soft kisses atop your head. Neither of you spoke, unwilling to face the reality of your departure. But you were never one to falter from the things that you didn’t like.

You were always moving forward. Bravely facing whatever comes your way, be it life or love. So you broke the silence, because it was what you believed you owed him.

“I’m enlisting in the Fatui” Your voice soft, “This would be most likely the last time we would meet.”

You felt his hand on your waist tighten before it relaxed. You looked at him and was greeted by his warm smile.

“But not definitely” He said and your heart ached because you knew that even if you met him next time there was no chance for anything more.

“Ajax, the next time we meet, I will no longer be as I am today.”

“...”

His eyes grew cold and you found yourself underneath him, he looked at you darkly and foolishly you still found yourself lost in his beautiful eyes.

“We will meet again,” he said, voice hard and steely “and no one would be able to take you away from me.”

His kiss was hard and biting, cold and passionate, and for a moment you believed him.

“Promise me then,” You begged him as tears gathered in the edges of your eyes as you surrendered to him once more “promise me that you’ll wait for me, that you’ll fight for me and I’ll return to you and fight for you.”

“I promise” Ajax smiled, his coldness and anger melting away as he showered you with all of his love. Leaving traces of himself on you, marking you to proclaim his rightful ownership of you.

Enlisting in the Fatui and joining their ranks hadn’t been easy with the additional expectation being brought by your familial connection with one of the current Harbingers, and with that the hatred and envy of others. You didn’t care for it though, thoughts of Ajax and the life you’d have with him making it easier for you. Then again, the Fatui was a place where strength was respected and it was something you had in spades, from fighting abilities to scheming. You didn’t have the best leadership skills but that was something that could be slowly learned.

All in all, you had gritted your teeth, bore the difficulties, and slowly but surely made your way up in the ranks and into being a Harbinger. Innamorati, they called you and you it was a name you proudly wore. A name bestowed upon you by your beloved Cryo Archon, the Tsar with his bright orange hair and deep blue eyes that reminded you of Ajax.

It was surprising to see such a familiar and beloved face in that of the beloved Archon but you had learned to hide your emotions. But even as you walked away from him and went home to celebrate, the unmistakable pull you felt didn’t allow you to delude yourself completely.

You needed to see Ajax.

The trip to Morepesok was faster with the portable waypoint Ajax had made you. An easy temptation to meet him in the middle of your enlistment but one you never took. You wanted to prove yourself, and at the same time show him that you’d never easily cave, be it for him or for something else, you would keep your word. And maybe that was why the waiting figure of your Tsar, in Ajax’ clothes, had shaken your heart.

The winds howled and snow fell harshly, each step he took towards made you tremble whether it was from trepidation or something else you didn’t know but as he took a strand of your hair and held close to his lips you couldn’t help but call for him,

“Ajax?”

You felt at loss, not knowing how much of the days you spent with him were true, not knowing if his words had been meant. You wouldn’t be able to take it if it wasn’t.

“Yes, my love?” He asked, gently and comforting as he took you into his arms and held you tight enough that it hurt.

You didn’t know what to say, unable to put your feelings into words so you buried your face into his chest, held him just as tight with your trembling hands and begged him to understand what your heart wanted.

You never noticed how you remained unaffected by the cold, despite the howling winds and harshly falling snow that surrounded you. All you could think of was the feeling you held tightly as Ajax carried you inside his home, up to his bedroom and slowly but gently began to undress you.

You made no protest beyond the need to have your hand held by his. He had laughed, soft and gentle, at your clinginess but no less than pleased at it.

“I’d need my hand to properly undress you” He said even if he had no problem tearing your clothes off.

You gave him an unimpressed glance but nonetheless leaned close when he moved to take your panties off, you snuggled closer to him, holding his hand tighter. You felt your panties drop to your feet and you moved to take it off them. Ajax pushed you to sit and the bed, finding it adorable and pleasing how you easily complied.

Trusted him so much that you made no protest beyond the soft pout when he untangled your hands. He gently rolled your black thigh highs off your legs, raising one leg high to slowly and teasingly slide it off your smooth legs.

He smirked at seeing your pussy twitch ever so often, knowing that you were surely having lewd thoughts. So he pulled you closer by your legs until your pussy was just a scant few centimeters away from his face. Your breath hitched and you unconsciously wanted to close your legs but his hands stopped it and began the process of taking off your remaining thigh highs. The process barely took a minute but it felt so long that you were ready to beg him.

When your thighs were freed from your thigh highs, you spread your legs, fingers going towards your labia and spreading it wide for him to see.

“Please?” You begged, voice soft and cute as you showed him your glistening wet pussy.

And Ajax, had never been one to deny you. Spoiling you with gifts and affection until you were drunk and dizzy from it. His mouth pressed close to your cunt, tongue licking the outside, circling your clit before it made its way in. He ate you like the sweet treat that you were, holding your thighs securely as you writhed on the bed with pleasure, moans growing louder and louder with each passing minute until you were crying for release.

He was relentless in teasing you, calloused hands teasing your clit before stopping when you were on the edge of your orgasm.

“Ajax~” You cried his name, moaning and panting as his fingers fucked you “please le—ahh!”

“Aren’t you my most devoted Harbinger?” He teased, “Surely you can hold on until I order you to come?”

You nod your head with slight hesitation but it was something Ajax could forgive seeing how you were feverish with want and your earlier words of begging for his cock.

His fingers went in and out of your pussy, each thrust accompanied by the squelch of your slick, his saliva and the hydro that coated his fingers. Your pussy loosened with each passing minute as he alternated his attention to your sweet cunt and your cute clit.

When he had deemed you loose enough, he stood up and freed his cock from the tight and uncomfortable confines of pants, he let his pants and briefs drop to the floor before he climbed the bed and in one smooth motion, plunged his cock into your waiting wet pussy.

“Cum” He ordered and you did, voice a sweet melody to his ears as he fucked you through your orgasm, the loud creaking of the bed and the sound of the head board as it repeatedly slammed on the wall made you aware of your situation, as the haze of lust slightly lifted.

It didn’t do much beyond making you want to hold his hand which Ajax did, held your hand as he repeatedly rammed his cock into your pussy, slowly reaching your depths with each thrust of his cock until he let out his cum inside you, spilling it deep inside your pussy that Ajax knew that there wasn’t any impossibility you wouldn’t end up pregnant.

He softly fell on top of you, caging you beneath him as you hugged his muscular back and simply existed in that moment. His cock remained inside of you and the feeling of being connected in such a way, on having all of him touching your skin, the soft sound of his ragged breaths and his scent mixing with the smell of sex that pervaded your nose anchored you in this precise moment.

Where the world felt like it had melted away leaving the two of you alone. Neither a monarch and his subject nor a god and its believer. Just you and him, as lovers.

“Did you really mean it?” You asked, soft and preparing for the worst.

“Yes,” He answered, voice equally soft as he squeezed you tight, he continued “I meant every I love yous I said to you, every promise made.”

He kissed you on your neck, on the vein that betrayed your heart’s quick pulse. He inhaled your scent which he had missed so dearly, remembering the nights he had spent thinking of you, wondering what you were doing. The nights he laid awake missing your warmth on his side, the afternoon naps where he held you close to his heart.

He watched from afar as you slowly and steadily made your way up in the ranks, each battle won and lost that slowly shaped you into a Harbinger. He thought of the days that made him want to simply steal you away, lock you in his room until you forgot your family, your duty, and only had him in your mind.

But he stopped himself, he knew that doing so would make you lose the shine that had entranced him, he would lose the you that he came to love. The you that was bound by duty both self-imposed and ones imposed by society. So he waited, until the day came when you stood before him, surprise hidden well but he was Ajax, he was your Cryo Archon, he was your lover whom you eagerly wrote every week.

So he knew your tells better than anyone else, knew the moment it clicked in your mind, saw the trepidation behind your eyes and Ajax wouldn’t have that. He had promised you after all, and he was one to keep promises.

Even if one day you wanted to leave him, he wouldn’t allow you. He had a promise to keep after all.

In the depths of Zapolyarny Palace was a room where the Tsaritsa, the Tsar’s most beloved wife resided. It was a room filled with splendor and grace, the best and most beautiful artworks and gadgets decorated the room.

It was a room that the Tsar loved the most, and thus it was the most important room in the Palace. The best of the Fatui sans the Harbingers guarded the doors that led to the halls of the room. It was strictly guarded and meant to ensure that not a single thing would be stolen from the room.

It was after all where you resided, a place where the Tsar designated as his home. His personal haven from courtly matters and godly duties. And today was no exception, every day you spent on the room was reliving your wedding night.

The soft silk sheets that you felt on your back, the white lacy lingerie that you wore underneath your wedding gown. It’s tiny slits that showcased your exposed and erect nipples, the your cum filled pussy that dripped with your husband’s thick cum that was always replenished multiple times in a day. The soft clink of the chains that held your wrists and had your legs spread widely. The familiar sensation of your collar that held your Cryo vision, a mark of his favor and love, a seal that ensured you would remain his until you drew your last breath. The soft cotton of your blindfold had enhanced your other senses beyond compare, making you hyper aware of everything that was happening in the room.

The familiar footsteps on the warm carpet of your bedroom, the familiar rustle of his clothes as it fell softly on the ground, cape first, shirt second, belt next and lastly his pants. His warm calloused hands gently caressing the insides of your thighs.

The same routine, repeated every day at different times since you married him. You couldn’t tell how much time had passed since he blindfolded you, how long you had spent with him, the days blurred as he never removed your blindfold.

He took you apart every time and mended you back, fucking you over and over again until he felt satisfied, until your pussy felt raw, until you were begging him for sweet release, until you lifelessly laid on his chest enjoying the feel of his hard cock being warmed by your cunt.

Your apprehension melted away with each fucking, with each release of his seed inside you, until you could only demand more of his time, more of his attention, more of his cum filling you up.

You loved when he was rough with you, the harsh and loud clinks of the chain as you moaned wantonly, begging him to cum inside you, to use you as he saw fit. And each time he went along with your wishes, fulfilling each and every demand you asked of him.

You kissed him with everything that you were, unrestrained by duty or dignity, only knowing what you want as you rubbed your naked and marked body against his, you weren’t the dignified or noble Tsaritsa the public knew. In this room filled with the most prized treasures of the Tsar, you were his most precious slut.

A slut that opened your legs for him alone, a slut that presented your ass and pussy to him with eager eyes hidden by a blindfold. A slut that couldn’t wait to be filled to the brim. It was his duty, his calling as a husband and as your lover to fulfill your needs, to ram his cock again and again inside your loose pussy that held so much of his cum even when your stomach was already showing.

It was his duty to ensure that you, his lewd wife, would be filled with his cum, from your pussy, to your asshole, to those pretty pink lips that eagerly wrapped itself on his cock. He loved how you didn’t care where he fucked you in the room. He loved how different you acted depending on whether he was ramming his cock inside you on the bed, or fucking you in front of the window.

He loved the way you moaned when the table digged on your hips, the way you grasped at the cover as he slid his dick in and out of your loose pussy, cum spilling down your thighs and pooling on the floor. He loved how slutty you could get when being fucked in the bathtub, water sloshing as you repeatedly slammed your pussy down his cock, moaning loud enough that some of it undoubtedly could be heard behind the thick doors of your room.

He loved the sounds you made, pleased and eager, as he fucked your mouth in front of the fireplace, your naked body sitting on the floor while a Cryo dildo repeatedly slammed inside your pussy.

He loved you when your stomach began showing signs of pregnancy, growing big with each passing week and yet you remained unaware, or perhaps you paid it no mind.

He couldn’t tell if you were genuinely happy with the arrangement but as long as you remained by his side, happily doing what he wants, whispering I love yous and adoration in his ears. Eagerly kissing him good morning and good bye, Ajax didn’t put any thought on it.

On the ninth month of your pregnancy, the blindfold was taken off, you looked at him with love and the unmistakable look of longing.

“I missed you!” You told him, eagerly running up to hug him, and plaster your entire naked body, cum dripping down between your legs, to his.

He laughed at you, amused and loving and gently held you close, “You shouldn’t run so quickly, you’re carrying our child after all.”

You nod, and look at your bulging stomach, hand instinctively rubbing it.

“I hope this child will look just like you!”

“Is that so?” He asked a pensive look in his eyes as he rubbed your stomach.

“Yes! How lovely would it be to see a child version of you? A mini-you calling me mother!”

He smiled at you fondly, pleased to know that you still loved him. He kissed you lovingly on your lips and whispered, “As you wish.”

[djarrex]

I was just rewatching the “Battle Scars” episode of TBB, and I was internally squealing at Rex looking at Omega so affectionately, helping her across that rift, just all of his sweet little interactions with her! 🥰 While watching I couldn’t help but think of your fic and think, “Goddamn! This man DOES have baby fever!” Lmao! So, this all kinda made me wonder if you have any thoughts on how the Bad Batch (and Omega) would react to Rex suddenly having a wife and Priya? (Or if any of that even fits into your fics’ timelines? Lol!)

Hey there!

Hell yeah he's got it bad for babies and the making of the babies. Priya was born mere months ago and mans is ready for #2 😏

I was definitely planning on having the guys travel to Dantooine to visit the Gayiyla's! I'm thinking following the events of the season 1 finale - maybe they're going there to inform Rex of what happened/lay low for a couple nights/let Omega chillax for a lil while without pure chaos surrounding them.

Some thoughts I had for a future installment under the cut: (sfw)

They all, especially Echo, would be extremely happy for Rex. They've met his lady in the past only a couple of times (the most recent being when she was in the early stages of pregnancy - in the fic Insatiable), and were glad the Captain had something bright to hold onto in the darkening galaxy. Maybe they stop in town to grab a little wedding/house warming trinket (Omega's and Wrecker’s idea) on the way.

Omega loved Rex's partner from when she stuck with her on Bracca, and would be totally in awe with Priya and it would be just so adorable to see them interact. She'd ask right away if she can hold her, and Uncle Wrecker would be next in line! 🥰 *imagines Wrecker holding a very smol bean*. She'd end up falling asleep next to Priya's crib - curled up with a toy in her hand.

Hunter has grown a soft spot for children and even though he doesn't trust himself to hold the baby, he'd try to make her giggle by wiggling something in her face to elicit a reaction, but would snap back to his normal sabacc face when someone catches him being all 'vulnerable'.

Echo would be sort of nervous to hold her because she's too delicate and he's worried about the possibility of gripping too hard with his cybernetic arm, but after a million assurances from Rex and the wifey, Echo gives it a shot. And he loves it. Echo can't believe his brother created such a precious thing, and can't help but think back to his first meeting of Rex on Rishi. Even though Rex was his CO, Echo is just so proud of him for getting this far in life and allowing himself to settle down. "Wow... she looks like you, brother." and Rex's heart would explode just as it did when his wife said the same thing on the day of his daughter's birth.

Tech is... Tech. He wouldn’t play with the baby nor does he possess a desire to hold her, but that doesn't mean he's anything but happy for a fellow brother for getting to live a life like this. Truthfully, he's intrigued by Priya and her creation - a clone, created in a lab, has a child of his own? Does his offspring share the same kind of features and traits that made the clones so efficient on the battlefield? Will she age as the clones do, or will she take on the 'nat-born' trait from her mother? Rex would ask Tech to please stop inquiring about his daughter's genetic makeup (affectionate) telling him how she's not a science experiment like them, and shouldn't be inquired about like one.

After hours of entertaining Priya until she fell asleep, Wrecker would break out his poncho and hat to help Rex with the crops like he did on Saleucami with Cut. Meanwhile, Echo and Hunter would be going over what the next moves are for the squad as a whole on the Maurader, while Tech works on some random ship stuff.

I haven't figured out all the details - the next thing I'm working on for Post-Order 66 Rex is a lil smutty smut action (gotta stay true to the origins of this series) but there will be interaction with CF99 in the future!

Thank you for this! It makes me so happy that people enjoy this little series of sorts and are wanting to talk to me about it 😭💙

Please ask me all about the Gayiyla's and this series I love it so much 🥰

[choco-glow]

Aliit

“Like so, riduur…kat-tay-LEER da-RAH-soom.”

“Kat-tay-LIR—”

“Leer, think two ees in Basic. The letter’s a bit weird in Mando’a.” Senya shot Shae a rueful smile, and Mandalore the Avenger threw back her long red braid with a laugh, wispy strays forming an auburn halo about her head. “You’re doing great, riduur; it’s hard picking up a new language, especially when it doesn’t use the same grammatical cues as Zakuulan or Basic.”

“And you didn’t have an overbearing father forcing you to learn everything, Buir.” Arcann drawled from where he was underneath Shae’s speeder, his face striped with oil and a bit of grease, blue eyes bright over his smile. Senya couldn’t help smiling back, warm and happy, because her lone living child was so at peace with his rebirth, with this, with them…Hell, he was picking up Mando’a faster than anyone else on base, but then again, the Mandos had taken him in like a lost son, Shae particularly. Torian chuckled low and rich from his perch atop the speeder, working on the upper half of the engine while Arcann took care of the transmission, and Senya found herself happy to have a second son again, if in name only.

Torian Cadera and his wife, a former Togruta bounty hunter-turned-adopted Mando, had been mostly adopted by Shae, and while Chromi was out and about taking care of things, Torian had elected to help his newly adopted brother with the repairs that Shae had, quite frankly, gotten too old to do. Not that that had stopped her, of course, but Shae had allowed Arcann and Torian to take over, while Senya eased her out, swearing and muttering under her breath about being too old for this shit, etc, etc.

“No, that is true, but still, I should at least be able to say that phrase, Tyth knows you tell me it enough.”

“It’ll come with time and practice.” Senya flushed, just a little at Shae’s sweet, quiet smile, and she took her riduur’s hand, conscious of the fact that she stood almost a head taller than the other woman. Then there was her power in the Force…Senya still felt like the odd duck out, though Arcann had made himself useful enough to blend in admirably. But then, he and Thexan both had felt better with their fellow soldiers on the battlefield, rather than the cold confines of Zakuul’s palace. Vaylin too, though Senya had always been less sure of her youngest…but she shook those sad thoughts away, longing for her children, and knowing that at least they were at peace once more in the Force.

“So it will…How about we go find ourselves a bit of dinner? We’re old ladies now; we can’t skip meals.” Shae pulled a face at that, and Torian laughed, falling back a little at her expression.

“Admit it, Mandalore, you’re no orochick any longer.” She swiped at him playfully, and he grinned, cheeks dimpled and eyes crinkled shut, and Senya laughed, catching Shae’s hands and pulling her closer.

“Old my ass, Cadera, don’t make me swat you like your buir should have.” Shae ruffled his hair, though, grinning despite her protests, and let Senya drag her off, while Senya failed to hide her smile. “I see you smiling too, riduur.”

“Yes, well, it’s nice to listen to you…even if you’re a bit over the top.”

“Hey now, I’m downright boring for Mandalore; trust me, some of my predecessors weren’t that nice. But…eh, that’s old news. C’mon, let’s hit the cantina; that C2 droid found the best chef in the galaxy.” Senya chuckled at that as they took the elevator back up to the main deck of the base, protected by the heavy cliff overhang, with the rest of the Alliance stronghold carved into ancient bedrock. Odessen as a planet was relatively young, and life on the planet hadn’t progressed to sentient yet, which had made it perfect for the Alliance…and having been so young in the galactic record, it was also that rare planet that hadn’t been explored yet, hence the first come, first owned philosophy.

Not that their Commander had claimed the planet for herself…no, Ionial had taken care to file everything neatly, and for a Jedi Knight, that was a rare perk. Then again, she was married to Theron Shan…and as he was the main Operations manager to the whole of the Alliance, Senya had a feeling that paperwork was something that poor couple dealt with even in the marriage bed.

 Certainly, she was perfectly fine shacking up with Shae in her old age; Mandalore had baggage, but so did she, and though they did have responsibilities…they could set them down for a time. Shae, however, nudged her out of her thoughts with a careful touch to her elbow, and Senya glanced down at her riduur, eyebrows raised…and followed Shae’s line of sight to one of the tables in the back room, empty but for a familiar figure in long graying braids, her slender hands wrapped around a mug of tea, her beautiful face pinched with weariness and sorrow.

“…That’s Satele…”

“So it is…Senya, love, how much to you know about the Grandmaster?” Shae murmured as they accepted their drinks, and Senya chewed her lip, reviewing everything she’d learned about the former leader of the Jedi in the last eight years.

“…I know that she was the Grandmaster, and though she still holds the title, she is no longer the speaker for the Jedi. I know that she helped train our Commander…and I know that she’s Theron’s mother.”

“…She’s a hell of a warrior, in the speaking halls and on the battlefield. I’ve gone up against her once, and out of respect, I’ll never do that again.” Shae replied softly, and to Senya’s surprise, the Mandalorian took her hand, guiding her to the room. “And out of respect, I think she needs a friend.” Senya glanced back up at Satele’s face, and even at this distance, Senya could see tears sliding down her cheeks.

“…You might be right about that. A moment…” She leaned over to the waitstaff who took their order, and hurriedly ordered a third meal of Alderaanian stew and fresh veggies, and Shae nodded approvingly. They made their way to the back room, and it was Shae, her eyes frank and kind, who slid into the booth opposite Satele’s seat, and gently clasped the Jedi’s hands. Senya joined her as well, her own long hands joining Shae’s, and that brought Satele’s eyes up slowly, tears streaming down her face, her pain so strong that Senya instinctively reached for the Force to help calm her. That seemed to help, just a little, and Satele took a deep, shuddering breath.

“…Can we ask what happened?” Shae asked gently, her tone as soft as Senya had ever heard it, and Satele gave a weary, wet laugh.

“…I tried to talk to my son, and utterly ruined things. Again.” She swallowed, with difficulty, but cleared her throat and took a shaky breath. “Theron…and I have a…well, complicated is too strong. We don’t have much of a relationship at all. I…when I got pregnant, I didn’t think about him, I didn’t think about being a mother…I was too worried about being found, about figuring out what I could do with him. My master, Ngani Zho, took him and raised him…I stayed for six weeks to nurse him until we’d found a formula that worked, but that was all. And I left him.” Satele’s voice broke at that, and both women slid around to hug her, letting her weep into their arms. Senya’s heart ached for her; she’d been raised with no attachments, to have no attachments, and no matter what the Jedi might say, that was something that damaged the very soul.

For all that she mourned her children, Senya was grateful that she’d been able to love them so fiercely. Not being able to care for her babies like that…it horrified her to her very core. One glance at Shae over Satele’s braids, and Mandalore’s eyes were shuttered, angry, and grieving too. I could hate the Jedi for what they’ve done to people…even the Sith cherish their children.

“I am such a horrible mother…” Satele was whispering now, and it was Senya who shook her head, voice low but fierce.

“You are no such thing. You are a woman who was forced to make a choice, with little regard to your own heart.”

“But…the Code…”

“Blast the Code.” Shae’s voice was as sharp as vibrosteel, and Satele flinched, just a little. “Sorry, but…Satele, you wouldn’t have made that choice if you’d been like me, would you?” Satele froze, and for the first time, Senya sensed someone just outside their door, listening…she closed her eyes, opening her mind, and to her shock, it was Theron. He was frozen on baited breath, his eyes wide, and Senya amplified the sound in that room, just a little, just enough…both Shans needed to hear this.

“…No. No, I wouldn’t have…if I’d been…normal…like him…I’d have kept him. If Malgus hadn’t been hunting me…I would have been overjoyed to be a mother…” Satele whispered, but it was enough; Senya heard a bitten off sob outside the door, and she reached behind her, grasping the younger man’s sleeve and gently tugging.

“Theron, you need to come in here.” She called softly, and he shook, but he obeyed her, watery golden eyes a match to his father’s, wide with worry and nerves…and it was Satele who watched him, tears still burning down her cheeks, who reached out for his hands.

“Theron…”

“…You really would have kept me?” His voice wavered, and Senya clasped his shoulder, willing all the love she could feel pouring from Satele into him, knowing he was only just Force sensitive enough to catch it.

“Yes. Yes, I swear, I would have…I would have needed Master Zho to help, because I was…I had no idea what I was doing…but I would have brought you home and to hell with anyone else.” She whispered, and he closed his eyes, lips twisting in pain. “Theron, sweetheart, I’m so sorry…”

“I’m sorry for what I said…I’m sorry, Mama…” He whispered, and Shae hopped up out of the way to let mother and son embrace tightly, both of them sobbing as the dams broke between them. Senya managed to order a fourth meal too, and when they all arrived, she laid them out neatly. Soon, Theron and Satele had calmed enough to sit back down, this time opposite one another with Senya sharing the seat with Theron, Shae on Satele’s side.

“I know you two are probably exhausted, but you need to eat.” She declared, and Theron’s lips curled up in a half-smile, used to Senya’s Mom skill by now, while Satele managed a wan smile and Shae openly grinned.

“Thank you, Senya, Shae…”

“Yeah, thank you…I’m so sorry I yelled, Mom…” Satele only shook her head, eyes softer now, and clasped his hand.

“You were right to yell about that. I never…” She paused, took a deep breath, and continued. “I should have talked to you about all of this…really, I just should have talked to you. I know you felt like the dirty secret for years…and understandably so. I treated you as such, and Jace…” Theron sighed, wincing, and she nodded. “I owe you a lifetime of apologies.”

“…No, just the one is good, Mom. You did give me to Zho, and without him, I would have…well. He explained a lot, especially when I flunked out of the temple; he could have told me to bug off, but he kept in touch, helped me get into the SIS, even went with me to get my implants in. And he never faltered when I asked if you loved me; he always said yes, looking me dead in the eyes. I…didn’t always believe him, but he always said yes.” Satele smiled, just a little, and it was Shae who spoke up, having stayed quiet through most of it all, uncharacteristically so.

“He sounds like a good guy…I’m guessin’ he’s gone to the Force, isn’t he.” Both Satele and Theron nodded, twin expressions of pain marking their faces, and Senya closed her eyes, pulling a well of comfort and care from her core and filling the room with it. She had always been a master at controlling her emotions, in no small part because she was so strong with her empathy, and Satele gave her a fragile smile, so shy and tiny, that Senya couldn’t help smiling back.

“Thank you, Senya…and yes, he is. But he went down in battle, as he wanted, protecting his boy.” Theron was picking at his steak now, his jaw tight, but he heaved a sigh.

“Yeah, he did…it…it was hell watching him die in front of me. But I wouldn’t want him to go any other way; whatever else happened, he was a warrior, and he didn’t let any fight go past him without taking a swipe. But he’s at peace now…kinda wish he’d visited, but…I figure I’m doing a good job if he isn’t coming back.”

“Or you two didn’t need me until now.” The voice of an old man, far older than Satele or Shae, even, filled the glowing spot now hovering next to the table, and Ngani Zho, glowing blue and smiling faintly, stepped from the shadows, giving Theron a gentle cuff on the ear, and tweaking Satele’s nose. Both made the Shans break into startled laughter, and their Master smiled fully this time, leaving Shae and Senya speechless. Force ghosts were…a rarity on Zakuul, if at all; Senya had sensed Darth Marr’s spirit on Odessen, alongside Satele at times, but only just, and never had she sensed Thexan or Vaylin…Shae looked almost frightened, and Senya clutched her hand, broadcasting calm.

“So, you two finally talked it over…about damn time.”

“Master Zho…”

“Don’t you give me that, it’s been long enough. Take your time, feel things out, but let the Code go, Satele. At this point, it matters, but not more than your boy…and Theron, so help me if you don’t cut out the swearing—”

“Look, I’m a leader now, I’m gonna swear a lot more—”

“I will appear in front of your wife and complain to her.” Theron froze, and Zho crossed his arms, looking as smug as a Force apparition could. “With her old master in tow.”

“…Orgus passed on.”

“Wanna take that bet, son?” Another crusty old man’s voice sounded, and the former Jedi Orgus, short-haired and taller than Zho, leaned over the other ghost’s shoulder. Theron blanched, while Satele burst into relieved laughter, leaning back and reaching over Shae’s shoulder to give the other Jedi a brush of her fingers. He chuckled and squeezed her hand before vanishing, and Zho smiled down at her.

“Now then, any more complaints I should know about?”

“No, thank you, Master Zho…and thank you for coming to see us.” Satele murmured, and he leaned over to kiss her forehead, his eyes calm and warm, then he leaned over to do the same to Theron, who hugged the old man tight, despite their bickering.

“…Tasiele would have been proud of you both. She loved you so fiercely, Satele, and Theron…your grandmother would have fought tooth and nail to bring you into the Temple from the start…But she left us far too soon. It’s hard, losing your soulmate…” He gave them both a wan smile, Satele’s mouth open in shock, Theron’s eyes wide and his jaw hanging slack, and Zho chuckled. “Never did really care for the Council’s strict policies…maybe that’s why we had a secret marriage, and why when you were born, Satele, we kept things quiet. Kinda blaming Revan and Bastila for starting a line of rulebreakers…”

“Father…” Zho gave a warm chuckle, and kissed his daughter’s brow, then his grandson’s, and vanished once more, his revelation leaving both Shans speechless, while Senya and Shae made to get up and back out. Satele came her senses, and shook her head, taking a deep breath. “Shae? Senya? Please, don’t go…I’m sure that was…absolutely bizarre for you both, but please, stay…” They shared a look, and at Shae’s quiet nod, sat back down; Senya was on firmer ground here, if only just, but Shae looked…spooked, for lack of a better word.

“…So, I’m guessing you never knew…?” Shae murmured, and Satele shook her head, eyes closed.

“I knew my father was a fellow knight, but…my mother died when I was a child, and I was already with Zho as his padawan. He was always just Master to me, but kinder, gentler…at the same time, stricter. Now I understand why…” Theron gave a huff of a laugh, and Satele cracked a smile at him.

“It all makes sense now…Force, it must have killed him to keep that secret to the grave…” Theron murmured, and Satele squeezed his hand.

“I think that’s really why he came back…to prove that we had more than just a shared Master…that there’s always time to fix things.” Theron smiled at that, really smiled, and Senya was struck by just how much like his mother he looked in that moment. He took after his father in eyes and coloring, but his smile was all his mother’s, with a touch of Zho in there in the quirk of his lips.

“Yeah, there is…” He leaned up, kissing her on the forehead, and sighed. “But duty, unfortunately, owns my sorry ass, and I need to go get things in order. Love you, Mama…make this a…thing? Maybe tomorrow?” He asked, sounding so unsure of himself, and Satele kissed his forehead back, both hands cupping his face.

“I love you too, Theron. Go, and call if you need any help at all.” He shot her a weak grin, and sped back off to work, while Satele slumped back into the cushions with a weak laugh. “…You both are looking at me like I’m crazy.”

“Nah, just figured you were overwhelmed.” Some of Shae’s easy-going nature had returned, and she motioned for the Jedi to keep eating. “Eat up, no point in wasting good food.” Satele obeyed, and by the time the three women had finished their plates, Senya gathering up all four dishes, Shae was gently rubbing Satele’s shoulders, and Senya knew that look in Mandalore’s eye.

 They’d talked it over extensively over the last six months they’d been together; if there was anyone they might wish to add as a third lover…Satele was first on the list for both of them, and Senya could already feel the beginnings of a dyad between herself and Satele, which, had she not taken the time to research it on the Holonet…

“…thank you both. Sincerely. I…I thought for sure it was all over, that…that Theron would never speak to me again…” Satele murmured, and Senya cuddled up to her other side, rubbing her upper back while the Jedi leaned into them both, melting a little from the gentle touches.

“He’d already came back in the short time we were there…” Senya murmured, and Satele gave her a weak smile, gray-blue eyes weary but relaxed.

“Still. Thank you. For listening. For feeding us…and for not running away screaming at the ghosts.”

“…It was creepy as fuck, but you’re cute enough to make us stay.” Shae sighed out, and Satele burst into laughter, cackling a little as Senya hid a smile. “What?!”

“Oh Force, Shae, I know we were enemies once, but you always know how to make a woman laugh.” Shae grinned at that, looking smug, and Senya just chuckled.

“It’s a strong skillset of hers…just like my empathy is mine. Satele…I can feel the loneliness rolling off of you in waves. It’s been with you for years…” She calmed down, sighing a little, and Senya probed the tentative dyad with careful touches, smiling as Satele closed her eyes and probed back, understanding and a little joy warming between them.

“…so it has. So it has. Your empathy…small wonder you walled yourself off, Senya…” Satele’s eyes were calmer now, and she glanced at Shae, making sure that the lone non-Force user was also in the conversation. “You two…I was surprised to see you two together, but at the same time, I was happy for you…” She trailed off, looking vulnerable now, and it was Shae who spoke up again, this time her voice softer, that familiar rasp Senya’s favorite sound in the world.

“Well, if you wanna give it a shot, riduur, we’d love to have you in the middle. There’s something already with Senya and you, right?”

“How…did you know…?”

“I might not have the Force, but I can read bodies almost as well. And Senya said she’d sensed something the first time she’d met you, a…dayd, right?”

“Dyad, but close enough. A bond, between two souls through the Force. It’s rare…but it’s strong.” Satele bit her lip, worrying at it, and Shae gently took her hand.

“Riduur. Satele. There’s been a bond between us too, we were both just…too indoctrined by other bullshit at the time to see it.” Those blue, blue eyes, warm despite all the storms they’d weathered, watched both her riduur…and her riduur-to-be with a calmness that not even Senya could call up. “I lost my daughters…you lost your whole family. Senya lost everyone but Arcann, and for a time, she’d lost him too. We lost our lovers, and in time, discovered that those weren’t what our hearts had longed for. I had a long time to figure my heart out…have you?” Satele seemed to think on it for a long, long time, dipping her head to stare at her tea; neither Senya nor Shae were impatient, though, holding her hands, Senya radiating love through the bond, Shae’s eyes never leaving Satele’s face.

When those eyes lifted again, though, both women were shocked to see that the storm clouds in Satele’s eyes had parted, leaving sky blue irises, with a hint of gold glimmering in the centers. A warm smile, rich and bright and so lovely it made Senya’s heart ache to see it, and she leaned in, kissing first Shae, then Senya full on the lips, pulling them into her arms.

“…I have. I found where I belong.” Shae grinned, bright and fierce, and Senya laughed, happy as joy from deep within welled up and overflowed, Satele’s power second only to her daughter-in-law’s.

“Good. ‘Bout damn time. C’mon, you two…let’s go let the brats know.”

“Arcann will be thrilled.”

“Torian’ll probably just call me a gold digger, the little shit.”

“…oh crap.” Senya paused as Satele froze, her arm over the Jedi’s shoulder while Satele’s arms were around their waists, and she touched Satele’s cheek, worried.

“Love, what’s wrong?”

“…Theron’s going to kill me.”

“Nah, probably just bitch about it. Hey…” Both of them stared as Shae got a wicked grin on her face, and suddenly, Senya understood exactly how Hylo felt whenever Gault opened his big fat mouth. “We could stage a strip Pazaak tourney. Let the kid really understand what trauma is.”

“Oh Force, Shae, no.”

“…I have a better idea.” Satele’s voice was smug, and she pulled out an old datapad, pulling up a file that crackled for a moment before clearing, revealing a tall man with long dark hair in a half-pony tail, his robes a bit disheveled.

“Is this thing on?”

[op-peccatori]

Wicked Eyes & Wicked Hearts | Chrollo Lucilfer (nsfw)

Fandom: Hunter x Hunter 

Pairing: Chrollo Lucilfer/Fem!Reader

Rating: Explicit/18+

Word Count: 8073

Summary: Over the course of your life, you’ve picked up several bad habits you’d be better off without. However, there is one in particular that you just can’t seem to quit–one with wicked eyes and lethal charm. 

a/n: the culmination of months’ worth of absolute, raw THIRST for this sexy asshole. I hate him!!!! I had to get this out of my system so I can go back to writing for my MLQC boys. 

the title is a quest from one of my all-time favourite games-DA: Inquisition. I do not own it, nor do I own Chrollo/Hunter x Hunter.

(warnings/tags under the cut)

Warnings/Tags: explicit sexual content, explicit language, pwp, oral sex (semi-public), vaginal sex, OOC+possessive Chrollo because we’re pretending he has any capacity for love outside the spider, some soft!yandere if you squint, unhealthy relationship, gotta edit this once I’ve apologised to a picture of Kurapika

Dark red swirls in the glass with slow twists of your wrist, your chin resting in the palm of your hand as you sit at the bar. 

The marble-top your elbow rests on is just as ornate as everything else in the ballroom, and as pretty as it all is to look at–you’re bored out of your mind. Clad in soft satin, skin exfoliated and highlighted to perfection, your makeup subtle but precise; this is not how you’d pictured your night going. 

A glance over your shoulder confirms your best friend’s continued safety, although you hadn’t actually come here to guard him. He had enticed you with promises of inexhaustible alcohol, food, and plenty of eye-candy. Your hopes of finding a secret corner with a handsome stranger are dwindling, and there is very little fun to be had alone when your partner in crime has the host of the party wrapped around him. 

A Prince tenth in line to the throne–but royalty nonetheless, a man Stefan seems inexplicably smitten with. You’re currently on royal property, and the experience isn’t as exciting as it should be. This is not somewhere you want to get wasted, which helps you keep one of the promises you’ve made to yourself: that you’ll stop getting inebriated to the point of losing common sense. 

It’s the start of a new year, after all. Or it will be, in about two hours. 

Just as you take another sip, there’s a brush of a hand over your shoulder–your pulse quickens as your breath stutters, and you curse yourself for the hope that blooms in your chest even as you turn around. Soft blue eyes lock with yours, and the butterflies in your stomach die a quick death. 

“Hi, I couldn’t help but notice you’ve been on your own for a while...” You blink up at the blond man, who takes it as an indication to continue. “Would it be safe to assume you aren’t waiting for anybody and ask if I could sit here?” he adds, pointing at the empty seat next to you. 

Are you waiting for someone?

‘No.’

You smile up at him, gesturing for him to take a seat. “I’m ___.” 

“I’m John.” He waves down the bartender. “I’ll have what the lady’s having.” He waits for the drink to be placed in front of him before turning back to you, swivelling in his chair to face you. “So, ___–this might be a little straightforward, but how is it that a lady as beautiful as you are all alone?”

His words would have been annoying, had they not been said with complete sincerity and a touch of bafflement. He appears to be in his early thirties, garbed in an immaculate white suit, his hair coiffed neatly.

“I did come here with a friend, actually. But he’s a little,” you punctuate your next words with a nod at the couple grinding on the dance floor, completely offbeat to the pop song playing in the background. “Pre-occupied. Can’t hold it against him, though.” 

“They do look rather smitten with each other,” he agrees, his eyes crinkling with amusement. 

“What about you? No hot date for NYE?” The man looks like he could be on the cover of a fashion magazine, and you can already see a few pairs of envious eyes trained on the two you. 

It’s then that he wiggles his hand, a silver band glinting from around his finger. “My date’s out of the country, on business. I work with the Prince, so I figured I might as well skip the moping tonight.” 

Something unwinds in your chest, even though you should be at least a little disappointed. “Crying yourself to sleep wouldn’t be a great start to the year, huh?“ 

“Hey, I don’t do that every day,” he says, mock outrage colouring his tone. “And no, it wouldn’t be–according to my wife.” 

“Well, then, if it’s decent company you’re looking for, I’ll try my best,” you say seriously, your lips curling up when he laughs. “We’ll need to make sure you’re far from tearful when you talk to her.”

“I’d be grateful if you could manage that. Wouldn’t be easy, this is the first time we’re not together in about five years,” he sighs, morose, before at straightening back up. “You didn’t fully answer my question, though.”

“Hm?” 

“You can’t tell me you haven’t seen the boys hovering, hoping for a glance. Have none of them managed to catch your eye?” 

You’re a bit taken aback by the question, as John looks genuinely invested in your answer.

“Um, no. Not really.“ Your heart squeezes pathetically within its cage and you hope it doesn’t show on your face.

“What about the redhead by the window? I’ve met him a few times, he seems like a decent fellow.” You both look over your shoulders simultaneously, studying the man in question. He notices right away, perking up, and you both turn back to the bar.

You squint at him suspiciously. “John, are you trying to play wingman?”

“I’m just a sucker for romance. And you looked lonely,” he shrugs, unfazed by your offended look. “Unless you’re just not interested in that.” 

You pause to take another sip, weighing your words in your head. You wonder what you should say, and if there is even anything to say. John, however, seems to have found something in your expression, nodding swiftly. 

“Ah. I see.” 

“You do?” 

“Yep,�� he affirms, studying your face as if he’s discovered a crucial clue. “There is someone.” 

You avert your eyes uncomfortably, suppressing the urge to slump over. “No, there isn’t...not exactly.” 

“Whoever he is, he’s an idiot for not being here with you tonight.” 

“I couldn’t exactly ask him,” you laugh, genuinely amused by the thought. “We’re not like that.” 

John shakes his head, reaching out to pat the back of your hand. “You don’t have to talk about it if it troubles you.” 

“I don’t think there is anything to talk about,” you say nonchalantly, but John doesn’t seem to buy it. He smiles gently, waving down the bartender for refills.

“You know, ___, you have very expressive eyes.” 

You can’t quite bring yourself to say anything to that. 

“And if he can’t see what I, a near stranger, can see in your eyes–then my point stands. He’s an idiot.” 

With that, you seem to have made a new friend. It’s the first time you’ve even hinted at your secret heartache to someone besides Stefan. It’s ridiculous, really, but it’s your reality. One that you can’t seem to escape no matter how hard you try. 

When John asks if you want to dance, you agree, all too eager to escape the jumbled mess of your thoughts. He’s a good partner, if a bit clumsy. His wife is the one who usually leads, he tells you. You’re amused by how often he seems to bring up his wife, but it’s quite endearing. His love for her oozes from his tone, his eyes, his words and you can only wonder if you will ever get to experience this. 

John twirls you around the marbled floor with a lot of enthusiasm, drawing high-pitched giggles from you and exasperated looks from those around you. And so you’re confused when, just as he begins to send you spinning once more, his eyes move to a point over your head, perplexity bleeding into his expression. You only get a glimpse of it before you’re spinning–only for John’s grip on your hand to slip away as you’re spin right into another figure. 

The subtle tones of leather and coffee hit your senses and your heart stumbles at the familiar combination. Your eyes rove over the sleek black suit, the white shirt stretching over lean muscles, the hands resting on your waist, holding you in place. Your eyes fly up before you finish processing all of this, and this time, when clever grey eyes meet yours, your heart flutters hopelessly. 

“Chrollo.” 

“___,” he greets you with a smile that borders on flirtatious, unfairly thick lashes lowering slightly as he takes in your attire. The one habit you haven’t been able to quit, pulling you closer, brushing his lips over the shell of your ear. “You look beautiful.” 

Your face feels warm, yet you try for indifference despite it. You glance back at John, who’s still staring at you with a raised brow, looking a little too interested. “Isn’t this place a little too...low-scale for you?” you say pointedly, looking around to see if any of his friends are here with him. There’s nothing for him to take here, no treasure to steal, as far as you know. Unless...

Alarmed, your eyes fly back to him. He couldn’t be here to kill somebody. 

He looks amused by your words, but when you try to step away his grip only tightens, sending electrifying flutters down your spine. “There’s no need to look so worried. Now,” he begins, looking over your head at John. “Won’t you introduce me to your...friend?” 

It’s the last thing you want to do, but John doesn’t seem to realize that as he steps up to you both with a wide smile. “I’m John.” 

“Chrollo,” he says with a charming grin that only serves to tighten the ball of anxiety and delight in your stomach. 

“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” John says, shaking his hand joyously, before looking back at you. “I guess he’s not an idiot after all, huh?” 

You wish the ground would open up and swallow you, avoiding Chrollo’s eyes when they try to meet yours.

‘John, for the love of all that is holy-please shut up,’ you think hard, staring him at him desperately, hoping he’ll get it. He does seem to understand something, but it’s not what you meant. 

“Well then, I’ll leave ___ in your capable hands, Chrollo,” he chuckles, waggling his brows at you. “Have fun, kiddos.” With that, he leaves you standing in the middle of the crowd with the man you’ve been hoping and dreading to see for months. 

‘Kiddos.’ In any other situation, you would’ve found it hilarious. Said right to his face, you can only hope he’s in a forgiving mood. 

As the music transitions into something gentler, Chrollo pulls you close again. The lights dim as you both sway to the music, and your heart finally settles down. You’re nearly hidden away in the middle of the floor, surrounded by countless dancing partners and friends, but you barely register their presence.

“Your date gave you up faster than I thought he would,” he remarks, his hand shifting on your waist, the other clasping your trembling hand firmly.

“He’s married,” you say flatly. He simply cocks a brow at you, and you nearly marvel at how easy it is to fall back into this. 

“I know.” 

“He’s a friend!” 

“Must be, if you’ve already discussed me with him.” His tone is sly, and your embarrassment makes a swift comeback. 

“Who says I was talking about you?” you say retort, twirling into a spin, only for your voice to die in your throat as it ends with his face close, the tip of your nose brushing his. 

His eyes, previously clear and twinkling, are somehow brighter with something dangerous lurking in their depths.

“He was right, you know,” Chrollo murmurs, his breath mingling with yours. “Your eyes really do give you away.” 

Your heart pounds as you’re spun around, your back pressed into his front, still swaying almost unconsciously. Your body moves with every subtle shift of his, his fingers undulating along your sides almost covetously. Once more, you can only marvel at your overactive imagination as it offers up flashes of your previous encounters involving the infamous spider, and the things you could do if you could just find a quiet place.

“You never said what brought you here,” you say, swallowing heavily when you feel his warm breath on the nape of your neck. 

“Isn’t it obvious?” He turns you back around, and there’s a subtle smile curling along his mouth. “Unless you do think I’m an idiot.” 

Flustered, you look away, but he tugs at your waist until there’s less than an inch between you.

“I have to wonder, though,” he muses, his hand sliding down to rest on the swell of your ass while the other slithers up your back. Your hands brace against his chest lightly. “If you weren’t actually expecting me–who, then, did you doll up for?” 

At this, you sniff delicately, finding your balance and refraining from rolling your eyes. “Do I need to dress up for someone? It’s NYE.” Granted, you had been hoping he would show up, but there is no way in hell you would ever admit that. 

“And here I thought this was all for me,” he sighs, and his tone would have actually led you to believe he was hurt–if not for the way he squeezes your plump rear, and the fact that you do, to a certain extent, know him. 

And so you hesitate, going over words you could and shouldn’t say. 

“That was a little presumptuous, wouldn’t you say?” you tease lightly, glancing up at him before averting your eyes quickly. 

“No, I wouldn’t,” he counters, his smile sharp and knavish. His lips brush your cheek, his next words breathed into your skin. “After all, you’re well aware of how much I love you in satin.” 

Yes, you do.

Your mind, the traitorous thing that it is, stumbles over the ‘I love you’ despite the accompanying words. Even so, you duck your head, aware of how easily he can still read you. 

“I just liked the dress,” you grumble, annoyed by his breathy laugh at your pout. 

“I like it too. Then-“ He’s closer now, his mouth at your ear, your breasts pressing into his chest. “I guess you really liked the gift I sent you too?” 

For a second, you’re unable to comprehend his words. Your mind tries to work through the events of the evening–when, when, when? 

Chrollo, who has by now pulled back to be entertained by your reaction, spots the panic in your eyes at once. “Ah, don’t worry, you didn’t accidentally flash anyone.”

His words are reassuring, and yet there’s a hidden implication in them. “Did you...was it here?” you ask slowly. 

At your question, his gentle smile shifts into something more cunning. “No.” 

You stare at him in mortification. 

“I didn’t actually mean to peek,” he clarifies, making you feel a bit better–and then he continues. “You should’ve drawn the curtains.” You live on the fifteenth floor. “And you looked so sad as you were looking at my gift, I just-“ 

Unable to bring yourself to continue listening, you step away hastily, your fists clenched at his teasing tone. Without waiting for another word, you turn on your heel and exit through the first door you come across. 

The fact of the matter is–you had been sad. You had sat there with that box in your hands for over an hour. Because you missed him. You ached for him, after months of radio silence. You had thought that was it, that it was done because he’d never gone so long without making even a brief appearance to turn your life upside down. 

Because, despite everything–him being who he is, never saying goodbye, just leaving behind cold sheets and a fading scent–he’s carved himself a place in your heart so deeply you’re unsure if you will ever be able to evict him. You’ve certainly tried. 

You’ve stalked your way out of the room to what looks like the poolside; this side of the building is just as grand as the ballroom, with its carefully carved pillars and the shallow pools of water you catch glimpses of through archways, that seem to cover the entirety of one side of the room. 

You don’t feel his presence behind you but you duck behind a wall anyway, coming to face the still water. Your face is still uncomfortably warm, your eyes burning–with tears, with anger, and with the aching vulnerability of being seen through so easily yet again. You’ve experienced his sharp perceptiveness first-hand, but this is the firm time he’s referred to your feelings for him so openly, if indirectly. 

You sense him nearby, shifting to look around the safety of the wall when you feel his hand catching yours from behind you; his arms slide around your waist before you can whirl around, pulling you back into his chest. It leaves you facing the gilded walls instead, the slight chill in the air cut off by the warmth emanating from him. 

It's when you feel his lips on your neck that the fight leaves you, the brief contact frustratingly soothing. "Did I go too far?" 

"Yes."

You feel his mouth curve up, pressed as it is into your skin. "Which part?"

The words bubble at the back of your throat, but you swallow them stubbornly. His thumb rubs small circles over the skin under your breast, sparking every nerve to attention, if he moves his hand just a little–

“It couldn’t have been me watching you dress,” he says casually, sliding his mouth further up and sideways until he’s kissing the tender skin underneath your ear. “That’s something you enjoy, if I recall correctly...” 

Your lips part slightly as he nips at your skin playfully. 

“Chrollo, someone might see us,” you whisper, knowing full well he doesn’t care–and neither do you, not really. He just laughs at your attempt at stilling his wandering hands and mouth.

“No one’s going to be around to see us,” he assures you, teeth grazing the delicate shell of your ear. 

“Ah, but-“ 

“Don’t try to change the subject, ___.” His words are accompanied by a chiding tug at your earlobe. His hand splays at your hip, his mouth returning to peppering soft kisses along the slender slope of your neck.

Your hand settles on top of his, fingers lacing together as your eyes blink shut. His nose burrows briefly into the junction between your neck and shoulder, inhaling deeply. 

“I’ve missed you too, you know,” he purrs, the words coiling around your heart, squeezing it tight. “But it appears I’ve neglected you.” 

“Wh-what?” 

“No? Isn’t that why you tried to fuck that hunter after your last job?” 

Once more, the words are said so nonchalantly that you almost don’t realise what he’s said until you try to turn around and he pins you against the wall instead, using his body to keep you in place as he goes back to mouthing at your skin. 

“How do you-“ know? How the fuck does he know? Your mind spins, your instincts tingling despite his casual tone. 

“It didn’t quite work out, though, did it?” he asks almost sympathetically. “He said you didn’t actually seem that into it. I’m curious–what exactly were you trying to accomplish?” 

“Chrollo,” you ask quietly, trying to keep your voice steady despite your heart thumping its panic throughout your body. “What did you do?” 

“Don’t sound so suspicious, sweetheart.” His hips press into the curve of your ass, and a desperate sort of thrill thrums through you when you feel his bulge against you. “We just had a little chat.” 

He doesn’t say more, his silence expectant now. He’s looking for an answer, you realise, heart sinking at the thought of even hinting at the emotional turmoil you went through when you’d thought he was done with you–after you had told him to never seek you out again, and he had left without protest.

“I thought we were done,” you say in a rush. “That’s why.” 

“Hm.” 

He was gone for months without a word. He’s never said anything to imply that he expects something from you, coming and going as he pleases. This time, you refused to wait for him. You wanted to move on. 

“I didn’t think you’d care,” you say carefully. This could go a number of ways, and you nearly wince imagining the bruising your heart could take from his reply. “Especially after...what I said.” 

His chin falls to rest on your shoulder.

“I understand,” he says. He sounds like it too.

“You...do?“ 

“Of course. I know I’ve been remiss in informing you of certain things. I won’t lie to you–when I found out your eyes have been straying elsewhere, it did hurt.”  His words throw you for a loop, and this is not what you’d thought he’d say. 

“I’m...sorry?” you say hesitantly, turning your head so you could see his expression, to see if he was messing around again. You don’t expect the quiet intensity in his eyes, belying his nonchalant tone entirely. 

“Me too,” he smiles, and it’s not his pretty one. He kisses your cheek softly, keeping his lips pressing into your skin. “But this is one thing you should know about me–I don’t share.” 

You know you’re not at fault, but you feel a kernel of guilt in sprout to life, one you're determined to ignore. 

“I didn’t realise I was yours to share," you say coolly. Or not share, in this case. You say it with the aim of ruffling that cool composure, to find some of the same in yourself. 

He kisses the corner of your mouth tenderly. 

“Don’t worry, sweetheart. By the time we’re done,” his whispers against your lips, smiling slightly as your eyelashes brush the tops of your cheek. "You'll know exactly who you belong to." His mouth is on yours before you can even open your eyes, working your lips open, stealing your words and your breath in one go. You can't help the soft noise in your throat when his hand comes up to wrap around your neck, squeezing lightly as you nearly melt back into him. 

Every thought of resistance leaves you the moment he licks into your mouth. You suck at his tongue languidly, feeling drunk off the taste of him, your senses filled with his scent. 

It's when his hand sneaks beneath the hem of your dress, caressing the warm flesh of your inner thigh, that raw desire sparks like liquid fire through your veins–it's helped along by his other hand sliding down your chest from the base of your throat to cup the bare flesh of your breast. He breaks the kiss to raise a brow at you, his smooth expression flickering at the sight of the nigh pained look that comes over your face when he tugs roughly at a taut nipple. 

"So you did skip it. Pity, I would've liked to see the full set," Chrollo mumbles almost to himself. "You'll have to show me later." His tongue sweeps into your mouth swiftly, his mouth swallowing your soft moan when you feel him cup your mound. You're grinding into his palm before you even realize it, your body aching to feel him within you after the long absence. A low whine escapes you when he pulls away to turn you around, pushing you back into the wall and sliding the pad of his finger along your clothed entrance. 

Your hands splay across his tensing abdomen, his body belying his tranquil expression as your lips find his pulse point, licking tight swirls over it. You widen your stance, silently begging him to move his fingers, but he seems content to brush them over the damp lace indolently. 

Deciding to take the matter into your hands, you reach for the waistband of his pants, ready to sink to your knees and suck until he gives you what you want. However, your plan is halted before you can even implement it, with Chrollo once again pinning you in place with his body, his hands coming to rest on the wall on either side of your head; his leg slides between your knees, his firm thigh pressing into your dripping heat, applying the delicious sort of pressure you've been dreaming of for weeks. You grind down on it, and he lets you–only for a moment, before a hand to your hip puts a stop to it. 

In the silence, the sound of your heavy breathing is loud. You're dizzy with lust and confusion until you see the insidious smirk tugging at his mouth. Your uncomfortable squirming is also cut off, and you think you might just explode. 

"Chrollo," you plead, desperate to move. You can only imagine how pitiful you look, with the beseeching look in your tearful eyes, and your hands tug at the lapel of his jacket. "Please, please, d-don't..."

"Don't?" he prompts when you trail off, his thigh rubbing into you, birthing relief that withers when he stops right away. You whimper softly, leaning into his touch when his hand cups your cheek. 

"D-don't tease me." Your helpless desire is apparent in your tone, and you spot the satisfied glint in his eyes when he leans in to steal another kiss. 

"Oh, don't make such a cute face, sweetheart," he half-groans, pressing his forehead to yours. "It makes me want to ruin you." He emphasizes his words with a slow slide of his thigh, before stepping away. Every protest dies in your throat when he sinks to his knees before you, calloused palms spreading your legs further as he nearly buries his face in the apex of your thighs. You strain to catch a glimpse of him, your breath robbed from you when you hear him inhale strongly as if enjoying a favourite perfume. He mouths at you through the barrier of your underwear, the heat of his mouth discernible even through it. 

"Fuck, Chrollo," you moan, bucking your hips into his mouth, yelping when he nips at you in reprimand. 

His deft fingers reach behind you, unclasping the panties and sliding them off. You're not at all surprised when he stuffs them into his back pocket, but you’re stunned when he spreads your cunt and drags his tongue along your swollen lips. Your knees start to tremble with every lick, and you're unsure as to how you remain standing when he lifts one of your legs to curl it over his shoulder, his tongue delving deeper through your dripping walls. This time, he doesn't stop you from grinding down; his hands, tight bands on your hips, digging into your skin as they help you undulate over his tongue. 

You try to muffle your moans as best you can, desire and fear coiling together low in your belly–you've known him long enough to be somewhat familiar with his style, and you know how much he enjoys robbing you of that absolute bliss until he's ready to give it to you. And so you roll your hips frantically, angling them just right, hoping you can grab your orgasm before he's done savouring the taste of you. The thought sends a hot jolt through you, drawing your attention to the way he's lapping at your sex with more fervour than you'd thought him capable of. 

Perhaps Chrollo really had missed you.

His tongue drags over your clit and you're so, so close and he knows–he knows, and so he pulls away, leaving you twitching but not daring to tug at his hair insistently, the way you want to. Your dismayed expression seems to provide some measure of amusement–but you’re not fooled even in your disoriented state, noting his blown-out pupils as he licks his lips. There’s a ghost of a smile across them when he rises to his feet to pull you into a kiss, the taste of you on his tongue making your head spin.

"You're a cruel bastard," you breathe. He blinks in slight confusion. Months without him, and he won't even let you come.

"Sorry, what was that?" he asks, tilting his head as if trying to hear better. "You don't want me to fuck you?"

"I want! I want-you."

"Me?" he asks, still feigning obliviousness. “I’m right here.” 

You tug at his tie pitifully. 

"Your hands," you moan softly, nuzzling his jaw cajolingly. "Your mouth. Your cock." He looks thoughtful for a moment, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear. You wait with bated breath, knowing how much he likes to hear you plead. 

"But sweetheart–do you deserve my cock?"

The words have the same impact as being doused bucket of chilled water. No, you won't get to come right now. 

"I..." His eyes warn you to think carefully. "...No?"

"No? Why is that?"

Your face burns as you look away, unable to believe you have to face these consequences even though you’ve done nothing wrong. Technically, you're a free agent. Chrollo never said a word to imply otherwise, and so you decided to test the waters, just once. To try to escape the web that was Chrollo Lucilfer, to see if you could, because it's not as if he would ever find out. 

You were wrong, and it's come back to bite you in the ass. 

"Because I...tried to...with someone." 

There's absolute silence after you finish your sentence, and you have to wonder if he'll walk away after obtaining that admission. 

"Yes," he begins, a knuckle under your chin tilting your head up. You're struck dumb by the lethal look in his eye as he stares at you. "You were going to let him fuck you." 

"...Yes."

"But you didn't." It's not a question–not the one you know he's about to ask. 

"No, I didn't," you admit, your eyes squeezed shut as something in your chest quivers at the prospect of what's coming.

"Why?"

You don't know what to say. Or rather, you don't know how to tell him why you had run out of that hotel room that night, flashes of him filling your head until you couldn't even look at the other man without cringing. 

"Don't make me repeat myself," he warns, his tone affecting a measure of sternness that contrasts greatly with his previous geniality. 

"I couldn't-" Your eyes still closed in resignation. "Because he wasn't you."

Because despite every effort you’ve put into trying to escape him, he always finds you. And you fall into his arms like the complete fool you that you are, unable to resist him. You crave him when he’s not around. 

Worse still, it’s not just the sex. It hasn’t been for a long time. Not since you first saw him reading by the window, lost in his book, his ridiculous coat gone and his hair falling in messy waves around his face. It had hit you with the force of an enhancer’s punch, filling your heart up and spilling over, and you haven’t been the same ever since. 

“Was that so hard?” he nearly croons, kissing your forehead as if he hadn’t just cornered you into a difficult position. “Look at me, ___.” A peek at his face has your breath catching in your throat at how pleased he looks. It’s in how his smile actually reaches his eyes, for once. The dark delight glittering in them, combined with his straining bulge pressing into your hip threatens to derail your thought process all over again. “You couldn’t fuck him, because he wasn’t me. You understand, don’t you?”

In this, you know you understand more than he probably does. “Yes.”

“Good girl. Let’s go.” 

‘Wait-what?’ 

“Where?” you ask in confusion, stumbling after him as he interlocks your fingers together and pulls you along. Your hotel room is always an option, but that idea is discarded when he tugs you through a hallway you don’t recognize. It doesn’t look like he’s leading you to the exit–you seem to be going deeper into the grand building. “Where are we going?” 

“As tempting as it is, I’d rather not fuck you where somebody would eventually find us,” Chrollo explains, smiling over his shoulder at your baffled expression, his hand squeezing yours. 

In other words, he wants to take his sweet time with you. Lovely thought, but it still doesn’t explain where you’re going. 

“And so...”

“And so I’ve made other arrangements for us. I think you’ll like it.” 

You almost hiss at him to lower his voice, which echoes off the marble floor in the empty hall. But there doesn’t seem to be anyone to hear him, which strikes you as odd–this is a royal figure’s birthday party. There should definitely be more security. 

That’s something Chrollo is clearly not worried about, and you decide you don’t want to know. 

He finally comes to a stop in front of a heavy door of white wood, carved with roses painted a shimmering gold. He pushes it open with no preamble, pulling you in behind him and shutting the door, the click of the lock loud in the large room. Your eyes have nearly adjusted to the dark of the room when he turns the lights on; the lights being crystal candelabras hanging on the walls, which are curved to form a circular room instead of the usual square. 

It’s stunning, from the white wooden dresser to the full-length ornate mirror framed with carved gold roses, but your eyes are drawn back to the main attraction: the king-sized bed with its pretty blue velvet headboard and its pretty blue velvet bedcovers that are thick enough to be called blankets. There are heavy drapes on either side of the bed, and several pillows lining the top of it. 

You’re immediately overcome by the urge to throw yourself on the mattress.

“Chrollo,” you begin, your mouth feeling like cotton. “How did you manage this?” 

He smiles indulgently, stepping behind you to wrap his arms around you, surveying the room with an almost critical eye. “It’s a bit brighter than I would prefer, but...”

But this is exactly the kind of room you would like. And so the fly walks back into the parlour. 

“It’s stunning,” you exclaim, nearly overwhelmed by the delicate beauty surrounding you. “But we’re not supposed to be here, are we?” 

“Depends on who you ask.” He shrugs, toying with the straps of your dress. “And if you ask me–I think I want to fuck you on that bed.” 

A shiver runs down your spine as he tugs the thin straps down, one at a time, pressing his lips to your shoulders. 

“There’s a lovely bath too, but we’ll explore that later,” he continues, pulling at your zipper slowly until it reveals the bare skin of your back, inch by inch. “Do you like it?“ 

“I love it,” you gasp, feeling the cool air on your heated skin as he pulls your dress down until it’s pooled at your feet. You stand, completely exposed to his gaze, embarrassed warmth blooming all over your body. And then his hand is at the small of your back, urging you towards the bed. 

“Ah, forgive me,” he slides his jacket off smoothly, draping it around your shoulders. “I’ll get the fire started. Why don’t you take a seat?”

You do as you’re bid with a pounding heart, watching him stride over to the–you guessed it–marble fireplace. Chrollo’s always been charming, but you’re not sure what to make of this. It’s romantic beyond belief, and something you had never expected from him in a million years. 

You sit on the side of the bed, sniffing discretely at his jacket, stifling a low gasp at his intoxicating scent. As he walks over to stand before you, between your spread thighs, you can’t help but smile as you tilt your head back to look at him and he kisses you deeply. Deft hands slide the jacket off your shoulders, throwing it over the back of an armchair, before reaching for your hair. 

He doesn’t rush; he’s slow, yet gentle as he tugs at the pins keeping your low bun in place, sliding them out carefully until there’s a small pile of them on the bedside table and your hair is spilling over your back. Skilful fingers rub at your scalp, chasing the slight ache away, and you’re nearly overwhelmed by the intimacy of the act. 

He crouches down, reaching for your feet, unbuckling the straps on your heels and sliding them off, taking a moment to rub the soles of your feet. You’re convinced you’re in a dream, or that you’ve died. This is not good for your heart.

“Did I mention you look beautiful?” he half-jokes, looking at you through half-lidded eyes as you reach for the cloth around his forehead, tugging it loose to reveal his tattoo. 

“I think so,” you say casually, but your trembling fingers give you away as you loosen his tie next. “But I won’t stop you if you want to tell me again.” 

He laughs as he stands, the sound coming out huskier than he probably intended as you reach up to unbutton his shirt, trying to keep from rushing; you struggle a little with the buttons on his wrists, but he’s patient as you finally slip it off his arms. You lean in when the pale expanse of his torso is unveiled, pressing your lips to every inch of skin you can reach–soft, open-mouthed kisses that have him stroking your hair in approval. 

You know you don’t imagine the slight hitch in his breath when you reach for the fly of his pants, unzipping him carefully and nuzzling at his straining length through his silk briefs. Your eager mouth traces his bulge until he tugs at your hair lightly, and then you reach for the waistband of his underwear. You don’t look away from his freed cock, your mouth watering at the slight glistening visible at its head. You wait impatiently as he folds his clothes and leaves them on the armchair, knowing his slow movements are in part due to how badly you want to taste him. 

Which is why you take immense pleasure in the way his light chuckle gets cut off when you take the tip of his cock into your mouth, sucking softly, tasting him with your eager tongue. Your moan vibrates around him. It’s not because he tastes good–it’s because it’s so purely him. It sends thrilling flutters through you, and you’re glad you’ve left the shame behind. 

You’re well aware of what it does to Chrollo when he sees the pure bliss on your face as you suck his cock. 

Sure enough, his hand tangles in your hair, flexing and tugging to keep his calm. You appreciate that about him; Chrollo rarely loses his composure. But there are moments, where he just unravels and moans and squirms and you keep those close to your heart, cherishing them deeply. You want to collect more of those tonight. 

Chrollo stops you just as you feel him twitch in your mouth, feeling the telltale tensing of the muscles in his thighs where you caress them lovingly. His grip on your hair tightens until you've let him slip out of your mouth, shifting to lay on your back as he climbs over you, between your legs, ebony strands framing his face haphazardly. You part your legs further in a silent, pleading invitation and his lips twitch as he ducks his head to run his tongue over your nipples instead. His hair tickles your skin as he lavishes your breasts with his attention, any attempts at pulling him closer thwarted by his hands pinning your wrists to the bed.

His hot mouth leaves blushing speckles across your chest, and even as you squirm, you wait. He slides his fingers into you first, and your eyes flutter shut at the nimble fingers moving along your walls, curling and rubbing where it makes you writhe. You whimper in protest when he pulls them out just as your walls start fluttering around them, knowing he won’t make you wait too long. 

Or he might, so the moment he loosens his hold on you, you act–a quick twist of your hips leaves you straddling his hips, leaving trails of ardent kisses across his abdomen, over taut muscles and old scars. His eyes are bright when you straighten to take his cock in your hand, not hesitating even for a second as you lift your hips to bring it to your entrance, sinking down on it with a shuddering breath and your eyes rolling to the back of your head. 

“That’s a good girl,” he praises, his fingers digging into your hips as watches your cunt engulf his stiff length, squeezing him tight as if in greeting. “Look at you, always taking my cock so well.“ 

“God, I’ve missed you,” you moan, struggling to stay upright at the feeling of fullness. “You feel so good.” You know he's watching, taking in every single movement–the slow grind of your hips, the swaying of your breasts, willing to let you fuck yourself on his cock to your heart's desire. 

You falter when he begins to thrust up, meeting every roll of your hips with his own, a smile still teasing across his lips as your motions become swifter, your eyes losing focus as you stumble towards that sweet, sweet unravelling. You won't let him snatch it away from you, not again, and you know he will if he sees you waver even a little. 

"Look at me." 

You do, locking eyes with his, the molten grey of his eyes shaking your unsteady heart further. "I-I'm so c-close-"

"Would you like a little help?" He waits for your frantic nod before revving up his thrusts, reaching almost casually for your swollen nub as you bounce wildly on his cock, rubbing it dexterously and propelling you over the edge. It makes you keen, your head thrown back, your walls palpitating–then his arms are around you, your face pressed into the side of his neck as you quiver minutely. 

You come down from the high with soft, dirty whispers in your ear, your breasts pressing into the firm planes of his chest and–you realize with a jolt–his length still hot and hard in you. 

"There we go," he murmurs approvingly as you pull away to look at him. He still looks infuriatingly unruffled, but the evidence of his ardour is straining within you and his fingers still dig into your skin sporadically. It flickers in his eyes, behind his mask of cool composure, almost admiring as he takes in your wrecked state. And so, you wait. "You okay?"

"Mhm." You kiss the palm of his hand as it moves to cup your jaw, earning you an appreciative smile. 

"That was beautiful. Now-" He shifts you off his lap, pulling out without any warning, making you hiss at the sensitivity. “On your hands and knees, sweetheart,” he commands roughly, his palm coming down on your ass in a firm snack, and you scramble to follow it, crawling to the middle of the bed where you wait for him on trembling limbs. You don't have to wait long.

He’s too selfish to deny himself your inviting heat, and you’re proven correct when you feel his swollen head pressing into your slit, pushing through with no resistance. He grinds into you languidly, the palm of a hand sliding down to take a handful of your ass in it, an approving grunt leaving him as you push your hips back into him, moving them in slow, tight circles. 

It’s when you start to whimper his name that he finally pulls out halfway, snapping his hips into yours in a powerful thrust, repeating the motion over and over again until your back arches and you’re half-babbling, half-screaming, nearly incoherent. The sound of his skin slapping against yours is loud, obscene and only adds to your slow descent into madness. It hurts, but you would die before you let him stop.

Then, Chrollo is leaning over you, one arm braced against the bed while the other dances along the length of your spine to curl around your body, his hand catching a swaying breast immediately. He doesn’t stop drilling into you even for a moment, even when your walls clamp down around him the moment you feel his teeth sink into your shoulder. 

“I want you to come around my cock, ___. Will you do that for me?” he rasps against your skin.

“Chro-fuck,” you wail, the scream of his name cut off when his hand wanders down to your sex, his fingers trapping your clit between them. Your climax renders you speechless this time, your eyes glazing over as it crashes against you. His mouth is at your ear, his voice seeming like it’s come from across the room. 

“Such a good girl,” he groans, his thrusts nearly faltering as he feels your heat fluttering madly–but they resume instantly, fucking your through your daze, quickening as he chases his own end. It finds him swiftly, encouraged by your pained moans at how sensitive your sex is. What startles you are his harsh whispers against your skin as his length finally twitches, pulsing within you. “You're so good for me, sweetheart–I’m not giving you up, never-“ 

You squeeze him hard and he curses as your cunt milks every single drop from his slowly softening cock, his fervent words–even if they were said in the throes of passion–sending tendrils of warmth through your chest. 

You struggle to catch your breath as he buries his head in your hair, not pulling out just yet. You’re both then startled when your arms give out, leaving your face buried in the velvet bedspread–and you feel him slip out with a laugh, allowing you to turn until you’re laying on your side, facing him. He runs a hand through his hair, his flushed cheeks belying his level expression. It brings you a secret delight when you see that it extends all the way down to his chest, easily noticeable on his pale skin. You don’t consider it a good fuck unless it leaves Chrollo with rosy cheeks.

You know he’s not big on cuddling, choosing to lay on his side facing you. There is still something deeply intimate about the way he watches you reach your calm, your hair no doubt a mess and your face glowing, unattractively reddened. Chrollo reaches over to sweep your hair away from your face, and you do the same, brushing his damp bangs away from his eyes. 

And then he’s kissing you again, languidly, deeply, as if he’s savouring it. You can’t help but smile into it, your heart feeling full when you feel him mirror it, a soft, contented noise leaving him.

A part of you thinks it’s all for show. The bigger part of you doesn’t care, because it feels so fucking good. Because he’s running his fingers over your skin, pressing kisses lazily. Try as you might, you can't quite keep your eyes open. 

“I’ll go get us some food. Why don’t you take a nap?” he suggests, already moving to follow through. 

"Ah, wait-" you protest, reaching for him, but the words die in your throat. You don't want it to end, not now, but you don't know how to say that–knowing he's probably got bigger, nefarious things to do. Your struggle is futile, because Chrollo reads you easily, shifting you on the bed to pull the bedspread back and over you. "I-you-"

"We've got plenty of time, don't worry," he assures you. "But you'll need some food before we can go play in the bath." 

His sly smile tells you exactly what he means by that. What you interpret from that is that he's not leaving right away. The relief must be clear on your face because he leans in, tilting his head curiously.

"Did you think were done?" He laughs when you look away in embarrassment, trying to duck under the covers. He hugs you through them, tucking your head under his chin. “Already?”

“I didn’t say anything!” Your voice is muffled but he still chuckles at the hint of annoyance in it.

"Oh, no, sweetheart," he coos, lifting the soft cover of your shield and pressing his lips to your temple. "You still have so much more to learn. And I never make the same mistake twice."

[auggie-hunter]

the insomnia diaries;

❛ surprise. send an unexpected nsfw image to my muse.

truthfully, auggie should've known this could’ve happened one day. not that he’d ever expect it from her, or even ask, but he should’ve known teddy graham would find new and exciting ways to make him fall out of his chair.

(literally; he’s in the middle of a stream when it happens. he’d seen the notification go off while waiting for his game to load and had the capital idea to fully lean over to check instead of just reaching for his phone with his arm.

he’s could not be more relieved that he falls to the ground because he isn’t sure he could’ve kept a poker face on camera. or that he’d make it to his 23rd birthday with the way his heart is racing)

and while his viewers are likely laughing up a storm at his faux pas, turning his chat to chaos, he manages enough mental capacity to mute his mic, eyes still glued to his phone.

because his girlfriend, bare from the chest up with an arm tucked behind her head and a knowing, bright red smirk on her lips, stares back at him on his phone.

vlauggie: sorry dudes, technical difficulties, we’re back tomorrow, 7pm. ps: you’re all banned for laughing at me :)

…even if technical difficulties were, quite literally, him dramatically unplugging the computer and running to his bedroom where she laughed loudly when he all but jumped her bones.

worth it. totally.

__________________

❛ abrupt. kiss my muse out of the blue.

she’s in the middle of a phone call with her sisters, giggling from her place on the barstool at the kitchen island. about whatever it is they’re discussing. he isn’t sure; he genuinely hasn’t been listening. what he is sure about is how happy she looks to hear their voices and be laughing with them.

he hasn’t seen her smile in so long, he thinks, and his heart squeezes when he realizes just how long it’s actually been. eight months since they lost lip.

her eyes look so bright, and she looks so much like herself. like his teddy. like the heaviness of her heartbreak isn’t weighing her down.

like she might fly again.

he’s missed this for her.

she’s mid sentence when he cups both her cheeks and presses his lips to hers, soft and tender and warm. it catches her off guard; he can tell by the way she stares back at him, lips slightly parted, confusion on her brow. but instead of answering her or explaining, he drops a long, lingering kiss atop her head, thumbs swiping softly over her cheeks.

she mutters something about calling them back and her arms are sliding around his waist a second later, drawing him into her arms.

__________________

❛ go down. go down on my muse.

he almost hates that she’s here like this. almost. that she could come back after all this time, after he finally figured out how to make himself stop missing her long enough to move on. 

he almost hates that he’s so addicted to her that he’s willing to burn it all down for her.

almost. but auggie hunter could be  selfish like that. teddy graham would always make him selfish when it came to her.

they were just supposed to talk. she just wanted to talk, or so she said. the way she’d fallen into his lap in the middle of it all told a different story.

the way he falls right into her makes him angry, because he knows she knew he would, and that he always would. she knows her choosing not to talk and just go straight into the familiar is her way of having her cake and eating it, too.

but two can play at that game. and he can’t say he’s doing much thinking when he lifts her onto the desk in front of him though. or when he’s pulling lace that he wants to pretend wasn’t strategic down her thighs and letting his mouth following the same trail back up them.

the ring on his left hand burns with the weight of what he’s doing, and the pressure of soft, firm skin underneath it. he desperately wonders in the back of his mind if there will ever be a day in his life where he isn’t weak for the woman in front of him.

(he also wonders how in the world they got here)

__________________

❛ note. give my muse a note saying : [ content ].

he’s surprisingly nervous today. ironic, considering he’s technically already done this. but til the day he died, auggie hunter was certain teddy graham would, without much effort on her part, make his heart race.

they weren’t even going to have a wedding. they’d talked about it, sure, once they’d gotten back from paris, matching rings on their fingers. they’d said they could do it one more time for their parents’ sake.

except the world had been put on pause, she’d turned out to be pregnant, and they’d had more pressing matters to attend to in the form of two babies and more love and life than they knew what to do with.

but that was then. this was now. their daughters are eight months old, the world’s eased back in, and their families are waiting patiently in the terrace of the house in maine he and teddy had called home for the better part of the last eighteen months.

they’re getting married. again.

and he’s nervous.

the thing is, if he could see her, then maybe he wouldn’t feel so antsy about it. call it separation anxiety after all the time they’d spent together coupled with way too much excitement.

and he’d see her soon; one glance at his watch tells him they’re only twenty minutes out from when he’d be waiting for her at the top of the beautifully decorated aisle in the garden.

(the watch is a present from freddie when he’d come in to help with his tie, their father’s initials engraved in the back. “he’s here, too…” his brother had said, and they’d both held back tears)

but somehow, twenty minutes feels like an eternity.

he closes his eyes and takes a long deep breath, trying to get it together, before reaching for his suit jacket. he’s getting married. (again).

while running both hands over the front to smooth out the neatly pressed material that makes him look older somehow, wise beyond his years, a crinkling grabs his attention. he furrows his brow, wondering if the dry cleaners had forgotten some kind of tag in the pocket. he’s careful with the boutonniere, trying to make sure he didn’t ruin teddy’s favorite flower resting delicately over the pocket.

an envelope.

he furrows his brow as he pulls it out. that for sure hadn’t been in there before. or at least… he thought he’d have noticed when he pulled it out of the garment bag. the paper crinkles in his hand when he turns it to read it, and then, he smiles.

auggie.

written in a familiar cursive he’s seen a dozen times on post-its, in journals, in love letters. teddy.

he’s careful not to rip it when he opens it, chuckling to himself when he spots the blue paw print sticker on the back. an ode to their ongoing blue’s clues binge when rosie decides she’s over sleeping promptly at 4:07 in the morning.

loving you is my favorite part of waking up every morning. and knowing i’ll get to love you the next day is my favorite part about going to sleep. thank you for taking my hand, and wrecking all of my plans. i wouldn’t have it any other way.

can’t wait to marry you (again!!!)

- ted

yeah. he’s ready now. and would be forever.

__________________

❛ mark. leave a mark on my muse’s body [ specify where ].

working out your history probably wouldn’t end with a purple bruise on your hip bone.

(or it could; it would maybe just lead to a more fun memory than the painful one you’re currently dwelling on)

had you sorted your shit out, you wouldn’t have shown up late at night, dressed (or undressed) in the way you were, to jump into the arms of a married man.

(or you would’ve, except you’d have been his wife, and he’d have been your husband and you would’ve giggled in each other’s arms in the aftermath)

but the purple bruise on your hip bone is angry, a symbol of wanting and taking what doesn’t belong to you, of him having his cake and eating it, too, (literally) even if you’re the one who let him in the first place.

you’re the one who showed up to his restaurant late at night; you’re the one who insisted you talk; you’re the one who found your way onto his lap.

(even if he’s the one whose deep frustration led him to push you onto the desk in his office and find home between your legs, hands gripping your thighs like a lifeline. the red scratches on the side of your right thigh should fade soon; at least the reminder of the band on his finger not having the strength to last as long as the tender skin low on your hip bone.

the secret, wordless brand on your skin is a longer reminder of how much he resents you for leaving him.

or maybe he resents you more for coming back.

then again, he’s the married one, you think selfishly. although, there’s a ring on your finger that makes you a hypocrite since you’d be there soon, too.

had you sorted your shit out, you wouldn’t be staring at a reminder on your bare skin through the mirror. you’d be with him. where you belong.

and he’d be with you, where he belongs.

(but maybe the bullshit ends with you. maybe you’re the one who sorts it by slipping the ring off your finger.)

(and you refuse to be anyone’s secret. and you refuse to have him of all people be yours)

(you just desperately hope he feels the same)

__________________

❛ pin. push my muse against a [ wall, table, other ].

teddy wasn’t even going to have a bachelorette party. she was just planning on grabbing auggie and eloping at the courthouse, wanting nothing more than to just be married to him. but she should’ve known her sisters wouldn’t be able to help herself. even her little siblings bixby and belly, freshly twenty-one, wanted in on the planning.

it’s how she finds herself leading a singalong of four of her siblings, her future siblings in law, her best friends, and fellow patrons while belting “africa” by toto at a karaoke bar, drunk on too many sugary lime mojitos.

there’s a tilted crown on her head that looks too perfectly placed for how tacky it’s actually meant to be, and she’s clumsier than usual, so while the room goes wild, daily has to come to her rescue and help her off the stage when it’s over.

she’s one step down when she spots him, all the way at the back by the bar. her jaw drops and she gasps like she hasn’t seen him in ages though it’s only been a few hours.

her fiancé, her auggie, watching her with his smile like sunshine and cinnamon bun wrinkled forehead. (good lord, she’s drunk) she loves him so much.

(she’s really gonna be his wife. she could cry.)

daily’s calling after her when she clumsily runs away from her and toward his direction, narrowly missing a waitress on her way over. but teddy ignores her, a woman on a mission.

her lips are on his before she even says hi, arms wrapping around his neck and crossing at her forearms. she nudges him back, pinning him up against the corner of the bar, and when he chuckles against her mouth and pulls back to look at her, she grins just as wide.

“sorry to interrupt your big night, i just wanted to—“

she shakes her head and kisses him again. “never, i missed you sooooo much.” this time her smooch is loud, and he laughs wrapping an arm around her waist when he feels her kiss more of the space above this lips than his actual lips.

somewhere behind her, she can hear olive mutter something about it being a bachelorette party, but she doesn’t entirely care. auggie’s here!

“baby,” he mumbles against her mouth, pulling back. “go back to your party. i just wanted to bring you this,” he pulls out her engagement ring from inside his pocket. “i thought you might’ve forgotten it. though i think i should hold on to it for now.”

she pouts, ready to protest, but he grabs her left arm from where it rests at his shoulder, a huge, pink toy diamond ring on her finger. “just until you come home; you’re already covered.” he kisses her cheek three times.

“el—“ she hiccups. “it was eliza’s idea. she said she saw it on one tree hill and was scared i’d lose mine.”

he snorts. “thanks, one tree hill.”

“go ravens.” she giggles and stands on her toes to kiss him. “wanna make out?”

“i think you’ve got that part covered,” he says against her lips, still so very amused at her.

“okay but over there so i can take your pants off,” she slurs, closing the inch of space between them so he’s pinned against the bar counter.

“how about you go have fun, and i’ll wait for you later with no pants.” though he knows a puddle of drunk teddy would end her night in sleep, but he humors her.

she gasps. “can we go now?” and he has to catch her hand before she unbuttons his pants.

“no, olive and allie are already glaring at me for being here,” he tells her and kisses her forehead. “go; i’ll see you at home, okay?”

“…fine. i love you. a lot, a lot. like, to pluto a lot.”

there’s that smile again, big and bright and she all but melts into her boots: “i love you, too.”

as she’s walking away, she turns back to look at him. “i won’t even tell anybody about your whole fake pretest. pretet… pre…” she huffs, tongue tied again:

he laughs. “you caught me.” and with a final wink, she’s finally back with her party, and he’s walking out the door, both hands in his pockets, and his soft grin intact.

__________________

❛ choke. intimately wrap your hands around my muse’s throat.

okay, so it isn’t shocking per se; all the time they spent surviving on stolen moments and making the most of them for so long (before deciding to just say screw it, secrets be damned) had turned into lessons and discoveries.

lessons and discoveries that led them both to understand they were all kinds of kinky.

like how auggie was easily putty in teddy’s hands at the sight of her in any kind of lace. or satin. or leather, and how much she loved how easy it was for her get him to bend at her whim. or teddy being really into being tied up (and tying him up). her affinity for being blindfolded (and blindfolding him)

“i like surprises.” she’d said it at her birthday dinner; herhad eyes met his across the dinner table, knowing he’d know what she meant despite being surrounded by all their friends, none of them any wiser.

there’s auggie’s obsession with going down on her, and the way her legs had a little too much power over him. he was convinced this was why she’d started wearing shorter dresses in his presence. though she’d never admit it.

(it’s how he put two and two together about how having him look, but not touch was a turn on for her, and how she’d put it into practice by having him sit at the edge of her bed while she showed him all the ways she touched herself without him)

marks that scream mine, a slight tug of hair (or two), a hand up her skirt hidden in plain sight was a bit of a power trip, only to be met with bare, wet skin. because two could play at that game.

teddy on her knees. auggie from behind. chasing orgasms in new and exciting ways…

the list went on and on.

so again, finding this out isn’t shocking. a little surprising, considering they thought they’d fully populated the mental list by now. but when she’s pressed into the mattress, and he stops moving in her for a second to help ease her head out of the uncomfortable position it had ended up in, another discovery is made.

she’d winced, and when she’d complained about her head, he’d cupped the back of her neck, and gripped gently to help her get more comfortable. except his thumb puts a little more pressure than intended against her throat in the effort to help her move, and the way her eyes flutter while lips part and she clenches tighter around him gives him pause.

teddy appears a little surprised herself, especially with how her eyes widen when he lets go and she realizes what had just happened. he’s a little blown away, but clearly not as much as she is. but then his brow raises, a silent “really?” appearing on his face with an upward quirk of his lip.

of course, before she can even put together an explanation, her cheeks rouge a deeper shade of red than just a moment earlier to match her averted eyes and bashful expression.

he bows his head to kiss her. a reminder that there’s no need to be embarrassed. not about this, and especially not with him.

(even if the way she usually blushed while turned on, all the way from her face down to her chest, easily made his head spin. the way he could tell the difference was pretty hot, too)

but then auggie slows it down, more deliberate and sensual, and yet a little dirty, his hand eases back onto her neck, fingers and thumb applying careful pressure. he pulls back to look at her. he needs to follow her lead on this one; he won’t do it otherwise. there’s a word for this, too.

 teddy’s eyes meet his, a slow nod of consent and trust allow him to keep going. and when those same eyes flutter again, and her lips part, he knows he’s found it. her sweet spot. and then he moves inside her again, picking back up where they left off.

she comes faster than either of them anticipate after that.

lesson #350.

__________________

missed connections… what if we just missed who we were in a past life?

“wait, so you really just told indy you wouldn’t come to her wedding if she didn’t invite me?” teddy laughed, smoothing out the skirt of her dress, soft pink and ending just at her mid-thigh. indigo graff wanted a wedding of whimsy, which meant seventies florals and springtime energy. “you’re her maid of honor! it’s a small wedding.”

olive shrugged, the blonde highlights in her recently cut hair appearing extra glossy while styled in soft beach waves. “she knows i hate our cousins, i absolutely wasn’t getting through this without someone normal. and eliza couldn’t fly back from bali, and you know drew is still stuck in davenport because he’s the worst--”

“he’s not; you love him, and there’s a random springtime blizzard.”

“teddy stop being rational please, i’m being bitter, let me be bitter.” olive straightened out her own dress, the navy color as close to black as indigo would let her go for the day. she wasn’t hating it, or the way it contrasted with her red lipstick. “who plans an entire wedding in two weeks?!”

“okay,” teddy watches her trying to find the fine line between rational and letting olive be olive, but she’s still quite amused about this. “but scarlett is here. and forest is here.”

“forest is taking his photog job way too seriously so after we’re done being bridesmaids he’s gonna go off in search of the perfect wedding candids,” olive rolls her eyes while wrestling with the spandex shorts she’s wearing underneath to get them straight. “and i adore my sister, but scarlett decided she wanted to bring patrick to the wedding, and she adores patrick and will inevitably dump me for him once she’s done bridesmaid-ing. clearly my siblings don’t care about me and my needs..”

“on this day of all days? what a betrayal,” teddy snorts deadpan. “and you told me to bring ivy!” she walks around to help olive finish freshening up.

“i did, i know. but i like ivy. i don’t like patrick.”

“you don’t like anyone.”

“i know that, too,” olive says simply exhaling heavily before taking a look in the mirror. “okay, this is gonna have to do.”

teddy smiles at her through the mirror. “you look beautiful,” she tells her, wrapping both arms around olive’s shoulders and squeezing her tight. “come on, grumpy.”

as they make their way out of the bathroom, her best friend’s sigh makes teddy turn around. “i just can’t believe my big sister’s getting married.” olive’s lip quirks, pride swelling in her chest.

teddy grins. “you’re so cute. let’s get you over to her before all this real emotion goes away,” she teases, leading her out the door, but not before she bumps chest first into someone’s back just beside the door.

“oh!” teddy exclaims, grabbing onto a set or arms to find her balance.

“shit, sorry!”

olive glares, stopping short just before she could bump into teddy. “who stands in front of a bathroom door?!”

“sorry!”

olive looks to teddy. “auggie. fredward’s lame brother. and best man.”

“hi olive,” he shakes his head, seeming more amused at her antics than annoyed. like they’d been through this before. “hi, nice to meet you…”

“teddy,” she motions to herself. “best friend.”

he smiles. “teddy. that’s cute.”

teddy grins. “thank you.”

“don’t flirt with her, she’s taken,” olive interjects and teddy giggles when auggie blushes.

he clears his throat, shooting teddy an apologetic look before turning to olive. “i was looking for you actually. scarlett sent me. indigo’s ready to go.”

“and why didn’t scarlett come get me herself?”

auggie shrugs, but before he can say another word, teddy’s whisking her best friend away.

“come on, oli; it’s showtime, you can yell at your new in-laws later.” teddy shoots auggie a look of amusement and a friendly wave before disappearing down the hall.

the chaos of it all.

[mzargentum]

Light in the Dark

Due to unfortunate circumstances, I haven’t been able to write in quite some time, but I wouldn’t dare miss my beautiful wife’s, @completelyinappropriate​, birthday. ^^ Over the past few years of knowing her, she’s been nothing less, but an inspiration to me as well as a vessel of undying love and support and there will never been nearly enough time in existence itself to where I could repay her for just being alive. I love you, my dear Momma Six. And Happy Birthday. <3

Warnings: None | OC’s: Six Ulric & Muerlinian Zephyr | Word Count: 887

2 years.

Seemed like decades.

The sun was just a mere memory to most now.

A story to tell children about before they slept.

A myth to all of Eos.

Those who fought to bring light among them knew, but most were still able to keep up the illusion to minimize the tears.

Very few weren’t.

Those few were in the horror that brought this hell among them.

They saw what created the darkness.

Those few pairs of eyes are forever scarred with the forbidden images that started it all...

And yet...they were everyone’s saviors.

“Commander Ulric?”

The exhausted silver eyes of the raven haired glaive rose to meet her fellow hunter.

Glistening beautifully, yet solemn in the moonlight.

“Everyone’s outside waiting for you...”, the young hunter cheerfully gestured with a light bubbly grin. “They’d like to see you at least once before your birthday ends”.

Six looked at the time.

5:38pm.

“You can’t just spend the entire night brooding in here? Isn’t part of a leader’s job to boost morale?”, the hunter jokingly poked. “I mean, it’s not like we couldn’t use that around here”.

It was a joke, but true all the same.

“Heh...don’t worry”, Six finally answered. “There’s plenty of time...I’ll make my way out eventually”.

                                                   _____________

6pm.

7pm.

10:45pm.

She never made it close to the door outside her room.

Why would she?

With all she lost...first her son...

...her king...

...she hasn’t seen her beloved shield in what’s felt like eons and after the death of the Oracle...and the horrific events that took place at Zegnautus Keep, there was no telling what has become of her dear friend...

...her injuries...the pain in her heart. Other than Prompto’s love, all that was brought to her friend that day was sadness...

All that welcomed her out there was a brief illusion that they weren’t surrounded by endless darkness and daemons ready to destroy everything in their raging paths.

With absolutely no end to this madness in sight...

...and they wanted her to celebrate?

11:14pm.

“Tch...right”, Six groaned to herself opening yet another beer. “A real happy birthday to me...”.

“Well, isn’t this a pitiful sight?”

A familiar silky accent fluttered about the silence of the glaive’s room, startling her to choke on her beer.

“Better be glad it’s me here to see this and not the big guy”, the voice chuckled.

“You’ve got to be kidding me...”, Six muffled quietly in between coughs before turning toward her door.

The glaive’s eyes widened into saucers once she saw those all too familiar teal pools, that welcoming toothy smile and those bewitching silver locks.

Despite some minor differences, there was no question about it...

“Muerlin?”

The woman’s cheery expression softened lightly.

“Happy Birthday...Momma Six”.

                                                   ______________

11:38pm.

“I see...”, Muerlin sighed to herself as she took a large swing of beer. “You haven’t seen Gladdy in forever too, huh?”

“Yeah...with so many hunters and so few people to help lead, we’re both way too busy to see each other whenever we’d like to...”, Six explained.

Her heart heavy with sadness.

“Being in charge of an entire city must be hellish for you”, Muerlin sympathized. “Still, can’t say it hasn’t been a slight improvement than training a few jughead glaive’s”.

“You’re right about that”, Six chuckled to herself. “I’m sure what you’ve been dealing with is much worse...traveling all over Eos...healing people and fighting daemons...you’re basically the new Oracle”.

“New Oracle, huh...”, Muerlin softly replied. “Never heard that one before...besides, Luna was...something out of this world. I couldn’t even compare when we were kids...she was the savior, I was the monster that squatted in the palace and ate all of the food”.

She took another heavy gulp.

“Picking fights with Ravus was a casual hobby”.

“I see, so Ravus was just practice for Nyx?”

“Heh”, Muerlin giggled to herself, “oh, that takes me back”, she grinned raising her beer in the arm.

“Our battles were legendary!”

“They were loud, obnoxious and cost a lot of gil in damages”, Six cut in with a light glare.

“Eh, they were only light damages”, the wizard grinned to herself.

“Brat”.

Muerlin giggled to herself before tossing another empty can to her eye growing pile.

“I wonder what they’d say”, she mumbled grabbing another can.

“Hm?”

“All of them...if they were here”.

“...I really don’t know. It’s been so long...”, the woman scratches the back of her head, “I really can’t imagine it”.

“Gladio will think your pixie cut is cute”.

A hard cough from Six’s beer sends the stingy liquid spilling from her nose.

“What? That’s what you were worrying about just now, wasn’t it?”, Muerlin playfully asks.

“You’re such a bitch”, Six glared toward her friend, her cheeks flushed in light embarrassment.

“You missed me”.

Muerlin’s mischievous toothy grin warming the glaive’s spirits despite her irritation. 

It brought back such wonderful memories. Reminding her of happier times.

“Muerlin...”, Six smiles after cleaning her face.

“Hm?”

“Thank you...for coming to see me today”.

Muerlin stared at her dear friend for a moment in silence. This sensation was unfamiliar.

The view of Six’s gaze was sincere and warm.

Her smile was so genuine and...

....HAPPY???

“BEGONE, DAEMON SCUM!!!”

Just like old times.

“Jackass”.

                                                   ______________

A/N: More to come with the New Year.

Tagging: @digitalkanvas​ @completelyinappropriate​ @aquathemermaidstripper​ @glacian-apocalypse​ @a-new-recipehhh​

[pizzarollpatrol]

Fic Rec List #2 10/28/18

If any of the links don’t work, please let me know!. Just wanted to say thank you to all the authors on this list. You and all the effort you put into your fics are very much appreciated 💖

Kiss of Life by @sincerelymlg

Summary: Bucky and the reader go on a mission that quickly takes a turn for the worst. 

Flustered by @notimetoblog

Summary: It’s easy to see when Bucky is flustered. His mannerisms are beyond adorable but they might be hiding something more. --- I’m such a hoe for soft!bucky. I loved this fic, its so sweet and endearing.

Quick Stories by @notimetoblog  

Summary: Waking up early with Bucky is not always so bad. Bucky x reader.

Marry Me by @buckymorelikefuckmebarnes

Summary: Wedding day. (thats a shitty summary im so sorry) --- You thought this fics was shit but HA you are so wrong because it broke me :) Bucky x Reader

Death Do Us Part by @sgtjbuccky

Summary: For centuries, the God of Death had known two things about mortals. One, they were his job, his to collect when their days came to an end, and two, they were obnoxiously odd beings. Their purpose ceased to make sense to him. Never did he understand thy they created a life for themselves, why they loved, why they love other morals when they knew none of it would last forever. It was nothing but sheer stupidity, but that was until he met you. A mortal unlike any other. A mortal that would make him question everything. A mortal that would teach the God of Death how to live. God of Death!Bucky x Mortal!Reader. Ongoing series --- Wow. Where do I even begin? I absolutely love this series, its so different from others that I’ve read. I loved every chapter. 

A Supernatural Marvel by @angelkurenai

Summary: Imagine being transported in the Supernatural universe, with no memory of your life, where you become a hunter and fall in love with Dean. Only for a very important person from your past to come looking for you and change it all. Dean Winchester x Reader, Steve Rodgers x Reader. Ongoing series. --- This is one of my current favorite series!! You really know how to keep us on our toes, I love it!!

Take Me Higher by @buckychrist

Summary: Who knew that the way into the big broody super soldier’s heart was through his unmet need for a good cuddle? Bucky x Reader. --- If a fic has a cuddly bucky, sign me the fuck up. I loved this, its so sweet.

Educating Bucky by @buckfics

Virgin 1930′s Bucky x Reader. Smut. --- Holy fuck. This has got to be my absolute favorite smut I’ve literally ever read. I get so happy when it pops up on my dash again. There isn't a damn thing I dont love about this fic. Its so sweet and believable and I just cant stop myself from reading it.

Sincerely, Me by @buckitybarnes

Summary: Bucky Barnes is a quiet fellow when it comes to socializing with you. After one mishap, however, he finds a way to communicate his feelings without speaking so much. You’ve soon come to learn not every relationship has to be verbal to be important. Bucky x Reader. Completed series.

A Week in Boston by @blacktithe7 

Summary: It was your first vacation in years. Just one week all by yourself in the big city of Boston. No rules. No expectations. Just a list of places to go and things you wanted to see. That all changed the you run into a certain blue-eyed Boston boy who turned your world upside down. Is it really possible to fall in love with someone in just one week? Or is that kind of love just a fairytale? Chris Evens x Reader. Ongoing series. 

Stubborn Love by @barnesrogersvstheworld

Prompt: You cant live your life based on “what-ifs”. Steve Roders x Reader. --- This was so intense, I loved every word.

Date Night by @jaamesbbarnes

Summary: Heavily pregnant but very tired, you still insist to go out for your usual date night with your boyfriend. Chris Beck x Reader. --- This is one of the sweetest fics I ever read. I’ve never heard of “stardust” being used as a pet name and I swear my heart exploded when I read it.

Body Guard by @oliverwxod

Summary: Tony Stark is a very rich man and with that came a lot of enemies. After a tragic event Tony decides himself and the people most important to him, especially his daughter, are in danger. He hires personal body guards. Bucky Barnes is assigned to Y/n Stark, the most troublesome, reckless Stark that there is. Bucky x Reader. Body guard!AU. Ongoing series.--- Absolutely loved this series! So many twists and turns!

40 Days by @abaddonwithyall

Summary: Dean and you are already in an established relationship when he tempts you to give up orgasms for Lent. The only catch? Anyone and Everyone is open to trying to get you off. Let the games begin. Dean x Reader. Eventual Sam x reader, Castiel x reader, Gabriel x reader, Crowley x reader, Charlie x reader, Bela x reader, John x reader, Gadreel x reader, Lucifer x reader, Rowena x reader, Benny x reader, Jo x reader etc. Smut. Uncompleted series. (its from 2016, only the last two parts are missing but its all good) --- This is pure filth and its amazing.

Starved by @theonewiththefanfics

Summary: The Reader is a touchy-feely kind of a person and when she joins the Avengers nothing changes. Apart from the fact that Bucky Barnes is so touch starved, he craves for the soft feel of her skin against his and is over the moon when she treats him the same way she treats everybody else. Yet now day she simply stops, and he doesn't know why. Bucky x reader. Smut

You Aren't My Father by @winchesters-favorite-girl

Summary: When Sam shuts the gates of hell, Dean promised that he would take care of Sam’s little girl. However, things didn't go the way anybody suspected. After Dean settles into his apple pie life, he drifts away from his niece, who decided to take her future into her own hands. Uncle!Dean x Niece!Reader. Angst. Completed series. --- Holy crap. This is one of the best fics I've read, I read this series a long, long time ago and I’m still thinking about it.

My Turn by @sis-tafics

Summary: You and Dean are blowing off some steam. Dean x reader. Smut.

Afraid of the Flame by @thosekidswhohuntmonsters

Summary: Bucky learns from a surprising friend that you shouldn't live a life of things unsaid. Bucky x reader. 

It’s My Favorite Movie by @notnaturalanahi

Summary: Classice movie challenge. Movie prompt: “Are you not entertained?” Gladiator - 2000. Sam Winchester x reader. Smut

The Pumpkin Carver by @softlybarnes

Summary: Bucky and Y/N prepare for Halloween, when Bucky realizes something. Bucky x reader. --- I love The Florist and The Beekeeper so much, I was so happy to see you wrote another part. I loved it.

Watching by @mrsjohnsmith

Summary: Dean likes to watch. Sam x reader x Voyeur!Dean. Smut

Stepping Sideways by @siren-kitten-his

Summary: She steps sideways between worlds just watching those that live there...until Jefferson catches her eye. Jefferson (OUAT) x Fae!OC Mae. Smut. --- This is the first ever Jefferson fic I’ve read and i loved it!!

Ride by @wayward-and-worn

Summary: Sam and Y/N are in an established relationship. The milestones that had to cross to get this far go without saying. She's never been on top. Sam Winchester x Plus!Reader. Smut

All that Glitters by @moonbeambucky

Summary: Natasha found a sneaky way to get you to reveal your secret relationship. Bucky x reader. Smut. --- I LOVED this, its so clever and hilarious.

The Unimaginable by @moonbeambucky

Summary: As Bucky’s wife and mother of his child, you always worried for him when he was on a mission. This last mission will change your life forever. Bucky x reader. Angst. --- When i read the summary, I thought I had an idea about what was going to happen but it was so much worse. There were so many tears.

My Love, by @emilyevanston

Summary: Steve writes you a letter every time he goes on a mission. They usually arrive after he gets back. Steve x reader.

The Fiancé by @mycapt-ohcapt

Summary: Life takes an unexpected twist when you and Steve Rogers have to pretend to be engaged to cover up your little white lie. Steve x reader. Fake dating!AU. Completed mini series.

I Can’t Swim by @revengingbarnes

Summary: The reader pretends to drown to grab the attention of the hot lifeguard who looks after the beach. Lies don’t last long though, and eventually it backfires. Lifeguard!Bucky x reader. --- I LOVED this, its so cute and sweet. I had this goofy ass smile on my face the whole time I read it.

Sound by @bucky-barfs

Summary: You and Steve have been pining after each other for a while. Both to afraid to make a more, that is until you're stuck in a limo in heavy traffic. Steve x reader. Smut.

Crowded Places by @papi-chulo-bucky

Summary: You have a hard time warming up to Bucky, who constantly rejects you. But one day after his Winter Soldier mode is triggered, it seems there’s more to his brooding and stand off demeanor than he let’s on. Bucky x Reader/Winter Soldier x reader. --- I loved this!!! I’ve never read one like this and it turned out so sweet and weirdly endearing.

Memories and Music by @bitsandbobsandstuff

Summary: When you follow the sound of beautiful music, you find Bucky Barnes in front of the piano, and wonder if your heart might break just a little. Bucky x reader.

Three Shades of a Man by @bitsandbobsandstuff

Summary: It was different every time, what Bucky needed from you to survive himself. It was in these moments you saw the shades behind the mask he work in front of the world. Bucky x reader. Smut. Completed mini series. --- The first chapter was so intense and such a difference compared to chapel three, which I absolutely loved. It was so sweet and relieving to see their relationship like that after reading the first two chapters. I loved it.

Trepidation by @cumonbucky

Summary: Everything your world was right until Bucky’s ex girlfriend came along. Bucky x reader. Completed mini series. --- This was so good, I just had to add it to the list so we can all share a mutual annoyance at how stupid Bucky was in this fic. Like is he really that clueless or is he just that stupid??? Homegirl should of had a smack down with Dot but either way I absolutely loved this fic!

[shirtlesssammy]

7x08: Season Seven, Time for a Wedding!

Then:

Sam Winchester deserves better

Now:

Las Vegas, Nevada

Dean’s enjoying the company of a grad student just trying to pay her bills. (Dean, what are you, 10 years her senior? Plz stop, your wrinkles are showing.) (And you’re a big fucking liar. You more than likely dropped out of school because it was too boring for your smart brain and your dad made you skip school for hunting trips so it became a two fold problem of you not keeping up with the school work load and you not seeing a reason to care to keep up with the school work load --only!! You got your GED so you must care on some level. Please enlighten us, Dean. #endrant) Dean unloads a ton of Winchester angst on the woman and then gets a text from Sam. He’s four blocks away and he wants Dean to meet him wearing his fed suit.

Dean heads to the Little White Chapel (it has a “24 hour drive up wedding window!” lol) Dean’s suspicious enough of the place to pull his gun. He finds Sam. Yay! Sam’s in LOVE y’all and he’s getting MARRIED! (Listen, we know the problems with this episode, but I’m going to lean real hard into the absurdity of the whole thing. My personal belief is to read this episode just like Red Meat. BECKY IS PROBLEMATIC AND WE’RE SUPPOSED TO SEE HER THAT WAY. It’s kinda curious that we’ve never seen her again...kinda like this episode closed the door on how this show views those types of fans. Ahem.)

Just then Sam’s bride starts walking down the aisle. It’s Becky!

Dean is VERKLEMPT. He wants to know how this happened. “We met, we ate and then talked and fell in love.” Dean points out to Sam that it’s no coincidence that Becky showed up during their annual Vegas week. (Sidenote: Where are all the fics on Dean and Sam’s Las Vegas week? You know, the one where Dean meets a fellow craps player and there’s a friendly competition and a warm banter and somehow they end up back at Dean’s hotel room and maybe there’s a real marriage that they both forgot about and they go their separate ways and 5 years later Dean’s gonna marry his good friend Lisa to help her out for something and discovers he’s already married so he has to track down this mysterious guy Cas and whoops, they’ve got so much in common and well ---I mean, the story just writes itself.) She’s read all the books. She knows them inside and out. Sam tells Dean to take a moment to realize that this is real. They’re heading back to Becky’s place in Delaware.

Dean alerts Bobby to the situation as he’s heading out of town.

Becky and her new (and very attractive hubby) arrive at the Montgomery High School 10 year Class Reunion. Becky runs inside to buy tickets for the event. Also, she’s live tweeting her revenge plan it seems. She runs into Aaron Burr Guy (I mean, I’m not going to just breeze right past the fact that pre-Hamilton Leslie Odom Jr. was on Supernatural. WTF???). Becky introduces her good friend to her new husband (and Jared Padalecki is SO tall). He takes off to go inside and she runs to give him a hug and they exchange a mysterious vial.

Away from Sam, she reveals that he’s a witch.

Dean rolls up to the reunion just as Sam and Becky are pulling away. He heads to a bar. He sees a paper with the headline “Truck Kills Pedestrian in Freak Accident”.

At Becky’s place, Sam starts to break out of the trance she has him in, so Becky adds more mysterious juice to his champagne and forces him to drink. All is CRaZy iN BeCKy LAnD.

Cut to a baseball diamond where a dude is practicing hitting the ball. Another dude (that I KNOW has been in another episode of SPN) makes the ball machine go faster and then moves the ball machine over to hit the other guy in the head, breaking the fourth wall with blood. Lovely. #sportsball.

Dean brings his newly married brother a waffle iron (#bestgiftever).

Dean’s got a case. It seems the baseball guy is part of it. Turns out, Sam and Becky are already working the case. Dean points out that people are having their dreams come true in this town, and then he looks to Becky. Dean can’t get through to his brother so he leaves.

Cut to Dean wanting to work with Bobby, but Bobby has other plans.

Cut to Becky Rosen being a 28 year old teenager creeper. Ugh. Sam’s made them fake ID’s (twu luv) and says “check this out” to her. UGH. He points out another potential victim. He also notices her notebook of hearts and weirdness. But he likes it! Yay!

Dean heads to meet the hunter Bobby assigned to help him. No spoilers or anything, but IT’S GARTH!

Dean points out the case in the paper, but Garth needs to read Marmaduke first. OH GARTH.

They head to interview someone that just got a big promotion. Becky and Sam beat them to it. Becky and Dean exchange scowls. Sam and Garth exchange confused looks. Once in the interview, the guy doesn’t reveal much to Dean. Garth cuts right to the chase and asks if the guy made it to the top through “black magic or hoodoo.” Dean’s fake laugh GIVES ME LIFE. The guy admits that this isn’t his dream. Enter his wife: Hmmm. Dean and Garth catch up to the wife and Dean threatens her. “Why do people keep thinking I’m threatening them?” Oh, Dean Bean. The woman denies everything and takes off.

Back at Becky’s place (their place now?) Sam mulls over the evidence. Becky delightedly plots a romantic getaway when Sam suddenly crumples. Oops, better put that lovey-dovey vacation on hold until you can drug your husband again! She’s dismayed to see that she can’t give him a fix because the potion has leaked out into her purse lining. Wherps.

Dean saves the CEO’s wife from getting crushed by a falling light fixture at the company headquarters. Garth and Dean interrogate her and learn that she bargained with someone for her soul but lololol there’s no such thing as a soul so she got a great deal. Right? RIGHT?!! Garth makes plans to move her into witness protection - Garth style.

Sam’s doing increasingly poorly and Becky, desperate, beans him over the head with the waffle iron. Thanks for the gift, Dean! They used it already.

He wakes up in a Misery situation, bound to the bed. (note to self: watch/read Misery someday instead of just casually referencing it.) (Boris: Uh, yeah!) Becky fawns over him while simultaneously not freeing him. She then flits off to chat with Guy, panicking about the potion. “This isn’t the honeymoon I had in mind,” she says before amending, “Well, some of it is.” UGH. She frets about them not consummating their marriage yet and...at least there’s that.

Becky heads in to talk to Sam, once again cloaked in denial. Sam tells her that she roofied him (no I didn’t) and that her witch friend is the one killing all their victims (no, he’s just a wiccan). She insists that the killer is something or someone else. Becky PLEASE.

Sam tells her to wake up. “It's never something else. When are there ever two crazy things in town at the same time? Guy's the creep, and you're on his list.” Guy also fed her the line that the potion only works if Sam loves her “deep down,” to which Sam is incredulous. He tells her to untie him then, and in response she shoves a rag into his mouth. Yeah.

At the reunion restaurant, Becky meets up with Guy who starts to hand over the potion.

Guy pulls the potion back at the last minute. “Let’s talk price.” Becky learns that they are NOT in fact, besties. Guy’s price for Sam’s devotion is her soul. She recognizes him as a crossroads demon and, inoculated by her fan consumption of Supernatural, Becky sits tight and listens even after his eyes flash red. Guy LOVES reunions. They’re perfect for trapping people who are desperate to impress their old classmates or improve their lives. Speaking of desperate, Guy gives Becky a special bargain: 25 years before her soul’s collected if she promises to never breathe a word to the Winchesters about her bargain.

Dean and Garth bust into Becky’s apartment. It’s empty, but Garth finds a webpage open to Twitter on her laptop, and her feed indicates that she’s going on a trip with her “hubster.” Dean finds a picture of Becky holding a fish in front of a cabin, Garth makes a nonsequitur on the creepy nature of fish eyes (I love you, Garth), and they’re ready to track them to the cabin.

Becky returns to find Sam still tied to the bed. (Damn girl, who taught you how to tie a knot?) Becky mournfully reflects on her situation. She really wanted to prance Sam Winchester around to her ex-classmates. She calls herself a loser. Sure, Becky. That’s spelled F E L O N. She loved the message board communities and dating Chuck....life was good as a fan. She just wants love! Sam mumbles something at her through the handkerchief and she pulls it out. “If you want somebody to love you for you, maybe don’t drug them.” Decent Human 101, right? She pulls out the vial of potion and contemplates using it, to Sam’s horror.

Later, Becky nurses a drink at the reunion restaurant when Guy walks in. Becky missed the party, but she’s there to talk to Guy. She tells him she’ll agree to the bargain. Guy approaches for a kiss to seal the deal when Becky flicks a lighter and drops it to the floor. A flare shoots up and burns a quick devil’s trap on the floor, trapping Guy.

Becky tries to celebrate with Sam. Becky just….NO.

Dean confronts Guy, asking him how he’s managing to kill off all his soul acquisitions before their 10 years are up. Guy laughs and tells them that accidents happen - HE doesn’t kill them. His demon intern does. Cue the intern - the scraggly, hairy guy from earlier. Intern blasts them all across the room. The demon knife gets knocked aside but before Dean can grab it, Guy’s out of the trap. It’s looking bad for our heroes when Becky grabs the demon-killing knife and stabs Intern in the back. She passes it to Dean who holds the knife to Guy’s throat and tells him to release his last 15 deals.

“Oh crap,” Guy says, but it’s not because of Dean.

“Hello, boys,” Crowley says from behind them. Dean and Sam look worried but Becky practically has hearts and stars in her eyes. It turns out that Guy’s intern couldn’t keep his mouth shut and bragged about the scheme to Crowley. Crowley tears into Guy. “This isn’t Wall Street, this is Hell!” In Hell, they have INTEGRITY, and need to uphold their bargains or nobody will sell their souls to them anymore.

The Winchesters and Crowley size each other up. Crowley has nothing but the BEST intentions for the Winchesters. They haven’t encountered a demon in months, right? It turns out that it’s because Crowley’s been keeping them on a tight leash. Crowley is pro-Winchester when it comes to killing leviathans. “I hate the bastards. Squash ‘em all, please.” Dean tells Crowley to rip up Guy’s remaining contracts, and when he does so, Dean shoves Guy at Crowley. They zap out.

In Becky’s apartment, Sam signs the annulment paperwork and tells Becky that he won’t see her again. Sam’s a nice guy, though, so he tells Becky that she’s a “good person” and that someday she’ll find the right guy. I mean...I wouldn’t go THAT far but okay. We’re striving for rehabilitation here. Garth lights up and starts to smooth his hair. “No,” Dean tells him while I am yelling NO GARTH BBY DON’T.

Outside, the Winchesters say goodbye to Garth. “You don’t suck,” Dean tells him. Dean. Bean. He gets a HUGE hug for it and then Garth takes off.

Sam tells Dean that he didn’t mean what he said when he was roofied - he does need Dean to watch his back. Dean accepts the sentiment with grace. “For a whack job you really pulled it together.” Dean. BEAN.

Sam also tells Dean that since he doesn’t have to watch out for him, Dean can start looking out for himself for the first time in his life. Dean is THRILLED at this revelation and by thrilled, I mean sent into a self-pitying tailspin. Sigh.

_____________________________________________

These Quotes have been Garthed:

We all need to face ourselves sometime.

Shouldn’t she ask for my permission or something?

I’m gonna be sick.

Oh, Marmaduke, you’re crazy!

Why do people keep thinking I'm threatening them?

You're so pathetic, it actually loops back around again to cute.

Blueberry vodka. The answer to all of life's problems.

_______________________________________

Want to read more? Check out our Recap Archive! 

[caffeineivore]

So yes Spirits again...

I am trying to like, find the plot of this thing. I don’t know if there is one.

A/Z. Prompts used: Blue, melody

**

The building is standard industrial concrete, the sort which could become anything and everything from a distribution warehouse to a dance studio, and is all but empty inside when Zhen unlocks the door.

“My latest acquisition,” he tells her with a wry smile. “It used to house a self-storage company until they got into some trouble with the law. Big sting, lots of contraband of the weapons and drugs variety.” A whimsical smile crosses his mouth. “I bought it because it was cheap, but also because the walls are blue.”

It’s just the sort of fanciful thing he’d say, green-gold eyes gazing deeply into her blue ones as his smile grows, and it’s hard not to be charmed, even though she knows quite well that the charisma is part of his birthright. But she’s never been the sort to give in so easily, and so she raises an eyebrow instead of smiling. “Did you have any particular plan for this building? It could become anything, really. I’m sure Jareth would have a few notions of what to do with it if you asked.”

“He’d probably suggest turning it into something horrifying, like a Target with a Starbucks built inside,” Zhen affects an exaggeratedly scandalized expression. “Perhaps he’d come up with something even more soulless and appalling. He’s a terrifyingly creative fellow.”

Raina can’t quite hold back a giggle at the very idea of Jareth, with his discerning Ælf-kine sensibilities, partaking in anything so plebeian as the design and construction of a Target of all places. “Well. I’m quite sure it’d be a profitable endeavour if you did decide upon that.”

“Undoubtedly, but the headaches wouldn’t be worth it. Mortals are so aggravatingly rude in those types of shops. Especially middle-aged women with coupons and caterwauling offspring.” He blinks his eyes slowly, almost drowsily, the way a fox might upon catching sight of a hare it didn’t want to spook, then throws up both hands, palms outwards. And then, right in front of her eyes, the room begins to fill, furnishings and decor appearing all around them as though conjured under the wand of a stage magician. And yet... Raina takes a half-step back, right into a padded high-top stool the likes of which wouldn’t be out of place at any dim, intimate whiskey bar. She reaches out and feels smooth-worn wood underneath her fingers, and then in her view, a glistening row of bottles appear. Some bluesy melody plays in the background, a smokey rasp of a torch singer’s voice against syncopated drumbeats and the sultry wail of a saxophone. It’s so realistic, so tangible to all the senses that she would never have thought it an illusion had she not just walked into an empty building a few minutes ago.

“Impressive,” she breathes, running her fingers over the wood of the bar. Almost immediately, a squat tumbler of amber-hued single-malt Scotch on the rocks appears in front of her, the icy condensation cold and wet against her fingertips, the rich yet astringent smell of the alcohol pungent on the air. She takes a cautious, tiny sip-- it even tastes like expensive liquor-- and yet there’s something subtly lacking, as though her body doesn’t recognize it as alcohol consumption and cue in the metabolic process of converting the ethanol molecules into acetaldehyde. For all it tastes and looks and smells like Scotch, it has none of the chemical or physiological properties. An illusion, almost flawless, but not quite.

“I don’t drink, not anymore,” Zhen gives her a crooked, self-deprecating grin. “The last time I did, I ended up on a misadventure which ended up with me caught in the business end of an abandoned hunter’s trap in the mountains for a good six months. I was starving and almost feral by the end of that ordeal, by the time I’d finally gotten free. Your colleague actually found me in his backyard. Fed me a cold plate of leftovers. He was perhaps three or four years old, then.”

Raina pauses, and then, in her usual quick fashion, she connects the dots. “I wondered why you acted like you were running into an old friend at Adam’s wedding.” She also knew the bare-bones story about Adam King’s story-- a rough childhood with poor, dysfunctional biological parents which could have ended up as any number of tragic statistics, an alcohol-induced car accident which he miraculously survived, then an auspicious placement with an adoptive family that turned his life around and brought him to the place he was today. ‘It was as though I had a guardian angel who brought me out of that car wreck and into a new world,’ Adam had said to her before. Smiling, she steps away from the hyper-realistic bar and up to Zhen, reaches up with her cool fingers and touches his warm cheek. “You went to bless his marriage. That’s why you started seeing me. So you’d have a reason to be there.”

Slowly, he nods, and with a slow flicker like a set of lights blinking out, the whiskey bar disappears, accoutrement by accoutrement, until it’s just the two of them standing together in an empty warehouse again. Oddly enough, though, the bluesy music continues to play, softer and sweeter now, as though coming from the next room. He dips his head, covers her fingers with his own even as he brushes his lips over her forehead. “I did, I suppose, have ulterior motives when I met you. Not bad ones, but I didn’t just meet you for you. Until... there you were.” His eyes meet hers over the curve of a gentle, ironic smile. “I was captivated, you know. And then, immediately, sad. People live such short, short lives. I knew, if I got close to you, I’d be devastated if you left me. And yet I couldn’t resist. Do you forgive me?”

Raina thinks of her mother, who’d been wooed by a mortal man and married him hundreds of years ago. Her father had been a portrait painter for a Renaissance court, and enjoyed fame and privilege from his talent and the great wealth that his fae wife had brought with her as a dowry. But three times he’d broken his word to her mother, and so she’d left him, taking Raina with her to be raised in the Old Way. Her father had died penniless and broken-hearted, abandoning his prosperous post in court for painting water-scapes, turbulent, murky things as he’d gone from creek to lake to sea, bewailing his fortune and begging forgiveness from a wife who would never return.

“Will you promise never to lie to me, or break your word?” She feels as though she’s standing on a precipice, gazing into the unknown depths. She barely remembers what her father looked like, but she’d inherited his dark hair. She imagines that he must have been handsome, perhaps almost as charming as Zhen, agreeing readily to that which her mother had asked of him in a haze of enchantment.

He kisses her forehead again, then dips his head to kiss her mouth, lips warm and dry against her cool, damp ones. “I won’t make any promises,” his mouth traces the words against hers, feather-light. “I won’t make any promises that I might ultimately break, be it through fate or will.” The cavernous room changes again, filling with rows of well-worn pews. The music changes to something more solemn and grand, pipe-organ rather than saxophone, and the flickering light and faint scent of candles fills the air, though lacking something of the heat. It’s just the sort of back-drop, the appropriate setting, where a man might make his vows. The candlelight forms a halo around the old-gold curls of his hair, and he takes her hand, lays a kiss over the back of each. “I will make you one promise, and one promise only. And that will be to love you for as long as we both shall live.” 

The room is all skillful illusion and the man is all consummate charm, and yet, Raina finds it in herself to believe him. She slides her fingers through the tousled silk of his hair, then skims them over the nape of his neck, reveling a bit at his involuntary shiver as his lips home in on hers. “We may both live for a long time yet.” The words are muffled against his mouth, his skin, and his response is almost lost against her own.

“I stand by my promise.” 

At some point, later, the room shifts again, transforming into what almost looks like a luxurious suite of rooms out of a mansion somewhere. Zhen lifts her off her feet, depositing her onto soft sheets that feel precisely like silk underneath her fingertips. She finds herself laughing, even as he kisses all the skin he can reach, clever fingers tugging at fabric to expose more. “I should have figured you’d bring me here to make love.” 

He doesn’t say anything in response to that. But the bluesy melody starts playing again in the background, a sultry-hot caress of notes in the air with the weight of fingers on bare skin.

[freedomschildren23]

Family tales

My father always loved to tell stories aboutancestors of his grandfather and his father before him. These were mostly humorousstories. I can still remember his laughter when he got to the punchline of a story, or what he thought was the funniest part. Being a child with ADD that went undiagnosed or treated in those days, my attention span to sit down and listen to one of the stories was limited but I picked up bits and pieces. I do remember the last story he told me before he passed away. I was glued to my seat absorbing every word.

At the time, his voice was affected by Parkinson’s disease. His voice was low and barely audible. It was an effort for him to talk and for me to hear what he was saying. There is little doubt in my mind that theevents that occurred in the winter of 1865 are true.

There has been a sawmill in my family for several generations in Guysborough County. The nearest town of Sherbrookewas a bustling place during the gold rush.My quadruple great grandfather was Levi Mason who came from a family of devout Protestants.

It had been a hard winter and supplies were dwindling. His young daughter was sickly and needed some medicine. He needed to go to Sherbrooke for supplies. A journey that could be made in 30 minutes today took between 3 to 4 hours back then using an ox and a cart. He set out early one morning.

After completing his chores, including the purchase of sweets for his children, Levi decided to take a walk around to get the news.

As he was passing by a group of men one of them called out him. “Are you here for the hanging?” He wondered what terrible crime must’ve been committed.

"No,” he said. “This is the first I’m hearing of it. Who is being hanged and why?” They pointed towards the jail and said go see for yourself.

Levi made his way over closer to the jail to have a look at this hardened criminal that they were about to hang. A crowd had assembled.

He heard bits and pieces of the story. The crowd were made up of sympathizers and an equal number who condemned the actions of the accused. He squeezed through the crowd to have a closer look. It was just at lunchtime and the jailer was taking the prisoner his last meal. Whatever it was it smelled gruesome.

Members of the crowd closest to the jail we’re jeering and mocking the prisoner who was just a boy of 16 or 17, not much older than his own son, Joe.

He was dark skinned and blended into the shadows of his cell. The guards decided to put on a show and brought him out into the yard where everyone could see him.

Levi was shocked to see the poor fellows back where it been whipped repeatedly. They dragged him out and strapped him to a post where they proceeded to try to force him to eat the slop they had brought him for a last meal.

The guard announced there was to be a postponement of the execution. That needed to question the young man furtheras they believed the man had accomplices. They wanted to find out where the friends of the accused might be located.

“Damn Yanks,” thought Levi. The crowd started to disperse a little realizing they were not going to see a death today. As they left Levi inched closer to the accused. Compassion filled his heart. He walked over to the young man and he said that he was sorry for him and that he would be back to help him.

He reached into his pocket for some of the sweet treats, including a piece of jerky thathe had purchased for his children. He gave them to the criminal when the guards were not looking.

Levi noticed a glimmer of hope in the young man’s eyes.

The guards noticed Levi and issued him a stern warning. They told him to leave immediately as the prisoner was dangerousor else he might be strapped to the pole next to the accused.

The Mason clan did not respond well to threats. Those were fighting words.

Levi gave the guards the impression he was complying. He went back to his ox and made the trek back home.

He arrived back home around three in the afternoon. The chances of making it back to Sherbrooke before night fall were slim. He gathered up some tools from the mill that he would need to break into the jail as he planned to set the young man free. He asked his wife to gather up some things the young man would need to survive in the wilds of Nova Scotia in the winter. She quickly put together a bag which included fresh bread, a jug of water and a few other odds and ends. And one more thing: a couple of bottles of his brother’s homemade moonshine!

He had a quick bite to eat and headed back to Sherbrooke. His wife was concerned but she knew that Levi always did the right thing. He had kindness enough for his family, friends and complete strangers.

“Why don’t you take your brother John with you” she asked? "No," he said. "It’s one thing for me to put myself at risk but I cannot risk someone else getting caught.”

He arrived in Sherbrooke not getting there till well after dark. He tied his oxen and cart as close to the jail house as he dared.



One of the guards was pacing back and forth in front of the jail. Grabbing a jug of moonshine out of the back of the wagon, he poured some of it over his clothing and proceeded to stagger towards the jail.

“Good evening, gentlemen,” he said, purposely slurring his words.

"What do you have there sir?” With that Levi offered the guard a swig from his jug. “Best moonshine this side of the Atlantic,” Levi boasted.

Soon the guards were fast asleep outside the jail in a drunken stupor. Levi ran back over to wagon and grabbed the peavey, atool used to roll the logs into the sawmill which has a giant hook on one end.

Using the peavey, he pried open the jail cell door. He yelled at the prisoner and told him to get ready to leave. The young man was shackled and chained and shivering from the cold cell. Levi went to work with the peavey and broke the chains.

He wrapped the cold wretch in a bear’s hide and tied some deer hide around his feet which appeared to have incurred a beating.

Levi helped him into the wagon and told him to lie down in the back until they got out of sight.

Once they had travelled outside of the town of Sherbrooke, Levi lit the lantern. It was a stormy night and although it made travel difficult, there was one benefit. The wagon wheel tracks were being filled in quickly with snow making tracking next to impossible. Small blessings.

The young man now had warm clothing and a full belly. They made their way slowly to Levi’s home.

Levi told the youth that he could stay for just a few days as it was likely that his house would be an obvious place to look. This assumed, of course, that the guards could remember who gave them the moonshine, a tribute to the talent of Levi’s brother for making the hooch.

The young man told Levi the story of his incarceration. He had been travelling with his family when they were apprehended by slave hunters. They managed to escape and he thought some of them might be in Halifax in a newly established settlement for the Black community. But he had had the misfortune of being caught and jailed in Sherbrooke by his captors, referred to a “Yanks”.

When they get back to the house, Levi’swife Abigail attended to the young man’s ghastly wound. She made sure that he had a full belly and a warm place to sleep.

It took a week for the news to seep out of Sherbrooke about a daring jail break and the ineptness of the drunken guards.

Levi met with his father and told him the role he had played in the jail escape. His father beamed with pride that his son had come to the rescue of this poor soul. He also had some choice words for the man’s captors. “Damn Catholics,” for allowing such a thing to happen.

Levi’s uncle Grant (his father’s brother) lived a few days away in a place called Garden of Eden. Grant agreed that if they could get the young man to his home, he would assist him in getting to Halifax. They were planning to go there to sell furs.

All young black men at the time were given the name of Tom by their owners. Tom became fast friends with Grant and Abigail’s son, Joseph. He pleaded to make the trip to Halifax with his uncle, Grant. His mother was appalled at the idea but his father was more understanding figuring that no one would care about the matter in a few years’ time. He permeated Joe to go, after convincing Abigail, of course.

Tom’s journey to reconnect with his family commenced in the spring with the aid of the Mason clan.

Before delivering Tom to Grant, the Masons did their best to prepare Tom for survival in the wilds of Nova Scotia.

Tom thanked the Mason family profusely for their kindness and pledged this

More a half a century later Levi’s great grandson Abe and his brother Joe went to Truro to bid on some livestock.

Now, Joe was a young man of twenty and somewhat naïve in the ways of the world. While in Truro, Joe rescued a boy from drowning by diving into a river in the dark and almost drowning. The boy he rescued was black.

When they were safely back on shore, a group of local men asked him what was wrong with him for risking his life to save a man of color. Joe was hot tempered and before you know it, fists were flying. Joe and Abe found themselves in the middle of a brawl where they were outnumbered 10 to 2.

From out of nowhere came 4 young black men came to their aid. Thanking them for their rescue they got to talking. Before too long, they all realized that their families were connected with a tale from long ago.

Abe asked the young man why he had helped him and risked himself in this way.

The young man proceeded to tell him the story of how his great grandfather had been rescued from execution by a stranger.

He said that they were raised to never turn your back on someone in need. The story was all too familiar to them. Joe and Abe listened with rapt interest and realized that the story that had been passed down over the generations was not a tall tale after all.

The boys compared stories and there was little doubt that it was their great grandfather who orchestrated the break out from the jail of the young black man whose relatives just rescued them from a beating.

Kindness pass it on

[unluckyadept]

{Thursday, November 16th, TUMBLR 2017}

My time with the children was also very rewarding, last summer.

-=-=-=-=-=-

[There was a great deal of excitement as they came within view of the crowds. A lot of cheers and comments, though—

Before any of the adults could stride over to talk, there was a stampede of smols that gathered around him.]

“{He’s back! He came back!}”

“{Yeah! Toldja he was real!}”

“{Are you our hero? Like from the story?}”

“{You’re so tan!}”

Felix: …

[After a moment, he smiled at this, a slight part of a silent laugh.

He had never seen some of these little ones before. Most of them, actually. Which was to be expected—even those who were only five at the time would now be ten, and would have grown accordingly.]

Felix: ({I guess they’re right…. There are people now who grew up with the stories… the start of a new generation. …Why do I feel so old?})

“{Tell us a story!}”

“{Yeaah!}”

Felix: … {Ah, very well.}

[This earned some excited glees, followed by squeaks of wonder when he molded the earth to a seat of stone before he sat down.]

Felix: {This is a tale from when the world was young.}

[A few of the others nearby slowly stopped talking, casually interested in hearing what he was saying.]

Felix: {In the days of mountains old

There was a tree of green and gold— And in her branches, Wisdom ran And so did reign the rule of Man

He wandered far, from sea to sea Traversing Weyard’s majesty Every year did he roam, With no one place to call his home.

His was Power, not in Might— Nor in the Truth known in Sight— Heart to earth, to rock and stone And all the Life the world had known

Journeys long and never ceasing, Bounty from the earth increasing— Such love for beauty in the heart Traveled with them in their art

They knew themselves as rich as kings! Craftsmen of the finest things! Tapestries upon the walls Of their deep and earthen halls

Patriarch, his wife at side— Ever tempered in his stride Caravans from east to west Ever passing nature’s test

Such was Man in days of old Before the hearth was ashen cold— There live none now of that kind Sanctuary they could not find

The world grew cold and very dark Ashen grew the golden bark But Life still dwells in the Tree— Hope renewed eternally.}”

[A pause.]

“…More, more!”

Felix: -Slight chuckle at this, feeling a warm kind of flattered- {Well, I only just put the words to it. It’s not always easy to make them soar on the spot.}

“{You came up with that only now?} o: “

Felix: {The story is as old as the days of the world. It is not new. The Venus Clan were nomads—they did not live in one place, but traveled across the land.}

“{Why didn’t they stay?}”

Felix: {They wanted to see everything. To go everywhere. To eat many different foods, and see exotic fabrics and art. But when you go visit somewhere and stay a while, you miss it after you’re gone. And they missed everywhere, too, and wanted to go back. So they were always on the journey.}

[This was clearly a foreign idea to them, and seemed rather exotic (and a little bit odd.) Felix smiled, holding a hand to his face.]

Felix: {Maybe someday, there will be people like that in the world again. Perhaps! Osenia is a beautiful place, and it is largely safe from the strife of Angara.}

“{I thought you were gonna stay here!} D: “

[A chorus of begging and pleas at this.]

“{Yeah! You gotta stay, you’re the hero!}”

“{Dad said you were gonna choose someone and help them grow strong!}”

“{I wanna be a Warrior someday.}”

Felix: -Internal sigh-

Felix: {It’s…}

Felix: {…It’s A Long Story.}

[He looked over at the bonfire.]

Felix: ({What can I say here? Anything I saw will be treated as a solemn vow. I do not want to corner myself into a promise…})

Felix: {I became a Warrior after traveling the world. Anyone I raise in the candidacy after me will have to do the same.}

[Well THAT was true enough. He felt that he’d need to subject them to other situations, and see there the strength of their caliber. To move beyond theory and into the field: only then could he be satisfied they could lead and endure a trial by fire.]

“{And do you have someone in mind?}”

Felix: ({…Kadi.})

[There were adults hemming into the conversation now. Felix frowned, the warmth of his aura turning a colder sort of cordial.

He recognized that voice, and it was not welcome.]

Felix: …

[There was a very strong Soldier, with embroidered mark of great power—accompanied by several others of lesser rank, and even a few of the other candidates.

His aura became like stone, in contrast with the looming fire of those around him.

He stared the man down, not bothering to rise from his seat. He would not grant this man worthy of confrontation or satisfaction.

Indeed—he even turned to ignore him completely, choosing to speak again to the smols.]

Felix: {If you would like another story, I can tell you how I first earned the title of Dragon Slayer.}

[Some of the older ones were a bit confused, picking up very much on the tension. The younger ones were easily distracted, though, and gave a chorus of agreement.]

Felix: {Very well.}

[Felix used MOVE!]

[He swept aside the soldiers without even raising his hand, making his position on their leader clear in this. He immediately started talking, making the grass coil and curl with vines to keep them from coming right back.]

Felix: {Mountains in the Eastern Sea Held the might of Venus Tree There live now beneath her shade People of the Serpent’s glade

Once he ruled with wisdom pure Of his justice one was sure But long ago he fell to sleep Along with monsters in the deep

The world was young, but no longer The seal in spirit even stronger The quiet peace did belie What lay beneath on mountains high

One day at last, in the East There was held the greatest feast Alas! That day, in the West Fell two great Warriors to their rest

And so raged tempest, tidal wave! Men sent to a Watery Grave! And stirred then, also flying— The Serpent from the Mount Undying!

Roars of rage shook the skies Screams were scattered in demise All the food he did devour And thus began their darkest hour

Years of this they did endure ’Til they learned that maiden pure He demanded, as a price To save them all, in sacrifice

All seemed lost, the people starved The path to death already carved But hope remained, for someday soon— Warriors come beneath the moon

And so I came to that land I learned this fate, and took a stand! We journeyed to the dragon’s den To free Izumo once again

It was not atop the earthen spire That we faced the dragon’s fire— Instead within the mountain’s core That is where fate was in store

There before us, Susa fell Death was looming, one could tell And so we faced the Scythe of Death Blasted by the Serpent’s breath

And so the Serpent we did rend Izumo’s fate did we mend Kushinada at his side Susa returned with great pride

Hero he was, like a king Of his glory did they sing But truth was seen within my heart By Uzume ere I depart

I left that island much confused In deep silence I have mused: Will there come a brighter day Or in sorrow shall I stay?}

[They were little dragon smols. Much softer skin compared to their adult counterparts, and thus dressed more fully, at least with leather belts snug around the belly.

They all sported short hair—as did most of the adults, actually. Their colors were more pronounced and intense—looking very new, in a sense of the word.

Felix smiled a little, fine with them crowding close. He didn’t need to worry about them posing any sort of threat, and he rather liked them. This was not the most usual for Warriors—they were not aggressive, but most had simply patiently ignored.]

Felix: {Are you all excited for the recognitions today?}

[There were clammors of responses, shouted names of siblings and cousins—some of which he recognized. Most were merely having completed their Hunter training—though there were a fair few who had been working as Scribes.]

Felix: ({The first step to being a Scholar…? Interesting…})

Felix: ({So they were serious about wanting to learn more about Alchemy. That’s important to know.})

Felix: {Who here knows someone who can use Psynergy?}

[They all raised their hands.]

Felix: {What have you learned about Mars Psynergy?}

“{You have to pay attention because you can’t put the fires out!}”

“{You can breathe fire if you’re really strong!}”

“{It can make you feel better if you got bit!}”

“{It’s the opposite of Mercury. We’re better!}”

[Felix laughed softly at that last one.]

Felix: {Really now? Weeeeelllll, I’d dare say you’re better than Alex the Betrayer, at any rate.}

Felix: {But Lady Mia is arguably the most powerful Healer in the world, and the waters of her Clan’s Lighthouse heal all ills. They have even been used to bring life back to a dying forest—yes, the whole forest, from the water within one glass bottle.}

Felix: {And then there’s Admiral Piers. I don’t suppose any of you have met him—but he was my strongest ally, after Saturos and Mendari fell. He is as much a Warrior as I, and I will have him formally recognized some day.}

[He gave a content grin.]

Felix: {There are a few that I shall bring someday who have shown themselves worthy of such status.}

[The vines coiled, weaving within themselves to create a symbol.]

Felix: {Not all heroes are leaders, my friends. Be willing to open your mind, and look beyond—}

[He glanced over at Kadi as he said this—]

Felix: {—mere strength.}

[He looked back at the smols, letting Beck’s symbol burst into flower—fire lilies.]

Felix: {And you do not have to be a hero to make a difference. You are little dragonlings yet, but aged dragons like the Grand Master of Dance are vital to us as a people. They know all the stories and art from the days of old.}

Felix: {Yes, there is at least one who has earned my respect by his strength. He and I battled, and he fought well.} -Smug smile- {He endured. Very sturdy fellow.}

Felix: {I have met many people on my travels. I may bring them to visit, over time. For such is the rich power of the North! There lives here a deep song that draws in the heart.}

Felix: {But not today.}

“{But the Summer Solstice is the best festival of the year!} DDD: “

“{Yeah, why didn’t you bring them to see it?}”

Felix: {Little dragonlings… sometimes, things are planned, and sometimes they are not.}

Felix: {When you don’t have a plan, you still have to choose. And I made my choice in the way that I wanted to.}

Felix: {The others will come some other time. And unless there is…}

[He trails off.]

Felix: …

Felix: ({Well, last year there was the “hour of death” as one might say it, within that prayer of theirs, and this year, there was a plague that placed Cardinal in peril of death.})

Felix: ({I don’t think I should say anything.}) >>;

Felix: …

Felix: {There will be other summers. Besides, their people celebrate the winter.}

“{But it’s so cold and it’s dark and it’s bleh.} 8’|”

Felix: {They can tell you more about it…}

[He suddenly grins as he imagines Will being cornered by the dragon smols and forced into an extensive story session.]

“{Can you tell us a story about them?}”

Felix: -Thinks on this-

[Many of the stories were dark, that much he knew. And the only other one he could think of…]

Felix: {I know they’d rather tell you themselves. You will have to wait.}

“{Awww…}”

[It seemed pretty clear that Felix was done talking, at that point. He had closed his eyes and looked to be deep in thought.]

-=-=-=-=-=-

Perhaps it would not be so hard to return again for longer?

—Felix

[garryspolicememories]

                             Policing Memories of

         Garry Crawford Circa 1962

                          Part III

     The days at Warren passed very quickly. We found a one room apartment in Rudi Laframboise Apartment building at the corner of Stanhope St. and Balfour St. in Warren. My family moved down within the first month.      At that time we were expected to live in our Detachment Area. I was never sorry about that as we enjoyed our time there and felt much at home. The people treated us with respect and it was not long until we were part of the community. I was in uniform by this time and I will never forget the first night my wife seen me load my revolver before going to work. I have always been a hunter and trapper, and had many firearms at the house, but I think she realized this was different. It sure showed on her face. Thank goodness she was able to get by that.

     I remember the first traffic ticket I issued, it was for unnecessary noise. I was patrolling alone through the village of Warren. A young fellow was sitting in his car on Rutland St., it was about 11:00 at night, he spotted the new fellow (me) and thought he would have some fun. He started pushing the accelerator to the mat. It sounded like the pistons were going to jump right out of the motor. I shook my finger at him, then; circled the block. He continued roaring his motor. I stopped got the necessary information from him and issued the ticket. The following years I had many run-ins with that same young man. He never lost his recklessness. He passed a number of years later in a farm accident. That was one sad thing that I seen happen time and again. We would know which of the young people we would most likely find in a fatal accident of some kind. It was sad because we would talk to them and they were not really bad kids as such. They would not listen. They were just wild and reckless. The times were different than today. Back then if you passed by some young fellows who used foul language at you, you stopped the car, gave them the side of your foot in the butt then took them home to Dad and he gave them another one.

     I have attached a photograph of a second world war stretcher. It was identical to one we had at the Detachment. It seemed like it weighted about 50 lbs. the body was made of canvas, it had very short little legs on it. The two carrying poles that ran through the length of it were made of hardwood. It had two iron hinges that allowed you to fold it together. I often thought of how many stories that old stretcher could tell. We used it on rescues, deaths and various injuries. In the early years it took over an hour to get an ambulance. When we received a rescue call we often would ask them to dispatch the ambulance to where we could meet them with the person.

     One of the first times I can remember using that stretcher was a call Dick Wood and I received. A chap from Sudbury who worked for the city had taken a heart attack while fishing for speckled trout on a stream north of Warren. We had the ambulance dispatched to the closest road, grabbed the stretcher and headed out. We located the man lying on the stream bank about a mile off the road. He was a stocky man and was conscious. We put him on the stretcher and started out. It was a very warm day and it was not long until we had to take one of many breaks. I think we were both covered in sweat. The patient kept wanting to get up and walk. We assured him we were all right and continued out of the bush. We just arrived at the road as the ambulance arrived. Dick and I headed back to Warren for a needed break. The next morning we found out the victim had made it to the hospital all right but had died a short time later. We both felt pretty low that our efforts had been in vain. It was not long until we had regained our composer and were looking for the next assignment.

                                       PTSD

     My thought on PTSD and the recent run on suicides within the OPP. Many police officers develop a weird since of humor and people outside the force think that it is wrong. That they are in need of physiatric help. I beg to differ.  As police officers we deal with some pretty horrid things. We see what the ordinary person does not, eg: hangings, decapitations, dismemberments, murders. We do our best to see humor in everything and make jokes of the unthinkable. If we allowed ourselves to be serious when dealing with many of these things it would drive many of us over the edge. We must not think that a victim could be our child, or some other loved one. We cannot compare. (That boy could be my son or girl could be my daughter.) At the same time we find ourselves in various situations such as telling a person their loved one has died. That they will not be coming home anymore. I found in these situations I would take off my shield and grieve with them. In many cases I would shed a few tears. We are not invincible, but we have to find a way to cope. Humor helps. The other thing a police officer has to do is make quick life effecting decisions. We must make a decision in split seconds that some judge or judges will analyze for the next 20 years. I got so I would tell myself when dealing with a deceased that their soul was gone, this is just a piece of meat. I would show them respect, but they were gone.

     The force has recently had a large number of members committing suicide. They have set up groups and people that one can go to when they realize they need help. The big problem with this is that police officers feel that it is a sign of weakness to seek any kind of physiatric help. The easy route when they find themselves in this situation of extreme depression is to bite the bullet. As a young officer I did not recognize depression when I seen it in my fellow officers. I did not recognize it until it had bloomed and they were past my help.

     My personal opinion is that they should train all front line members, so they know and recognize depression. The person withdrawing, lack of humor, staring into space, anger for no reason. Etc. In  many cases a good listener helps the person find his own answers. A good friend can help the person realize that the brave thing is to get help if necessary. The second thing I believe would help is to have a debriefing session with all those involved following a traumatic event. People involved can share their feelings and make each other feel that they are not alone in their thoughts.

     I also differ on the thought of suicide. I don’t think a person is necessarily sick if he or she thinks of suicide. It is a sign to them that they better start talking to someone. A colleague or friend; who has seen or experienced the same thing that they are dealing with, a person who will listen to their concerns. A good example of what I am trying to say is the soldiers from the second and first world had PTSD but in far fewer numbers than our recent members who returned from Afghanistan. I think the reason was simply the difference in the time they returned into civilian life. The first and second world war survivors returned in troop ships. They were kept together for weeks following the hostilities. They had time to debrief and realize the horrid things they had taken part in were shared by all, they were not alone. The troops returning from Afghanistan although far less in numbers had a higher incident of PTSD because the were home in a matter of hours and back with their love ones before they had time to debrief.

                                      Humor

     The first six months on the job I only had on the job training. At that time I knew that to receive permanent status I would have to receive a recommendation from my supervisor (Dick Wood), and then write a senior constables exam. I kept looking for some feed back from Dick and he would just smile and put me off. One night I remember we were patrolling the hamlet of Hagar when a person ran over to our cruiser and advised there was a big fight going on in the Esso Restaurant. We drove over there and stopped. I jumped out of the car and ran into the restaurant. As I came through the door I could see three different fights going on down the length of the long counter. I continued running hitting the first two fighters and knocking one each way. I did the same with the second two as I moved down the length of the long bar type counter. One of these fellows grabbed my clothing. I twirled around intent on breaking his hold with a chop with the side of my hand. He moved and as I swung the tips of my fingernails touched the side of his neck, Opening up a fairly deep cut. He let go and I continued moving down to the last two and separated them. I looked back and Dick was just coming through the door. The fighting was all over and I got a towel from one of the waitresses and stopped the bleeding on the fellows’ neck. When it was all over; I asked Dick how come he took so long to come in. His reply was: I heard you were chicken and just wanted to see what you would do. Again the big grin. No other comment.

     One night while attempting to remove a stalled car from the roadway onto the shoulder of Hwy. 17, a pedestrian was struck by another car and killed. Both Dick and I were within inches of being struck too. When we had completed our investigation, we received instructions to report to Inspector Jim McBain and Staff Sergeant Sam Whitehouse in Sudbury. They wished to be made aware of just what had happened and what our involvement was. These were the two highest ranking members in District 13. We appeared as instructed and were marched into their office. McBain immediately asked: Wood what happened out there? Without blinking an eye Wood said: Crawford pushed a guy in front of a car. McBain turned to me and said: What the hell did you do that for? My mouth fell open and I think I stopped breathing. We then proceeded to tell the truth of what had happened. It took me a little while to realize why Dick had done that. I then realized that you can’t always dwell on the seriousness of what you see, hear, and experience. It is just too traumatic. We arrived home that night in the wee hours of the morning. I crawled into bed  with my wife and went sound asleep. For the most part I was able to do that the rest of my career, no matter what happened. I had many a practical joke pulled on me over the years that followed and pulled many on others. That since of humor has stayed with me to this day.

     At the end of my six months probation I received the necessary recommendation from Dick then wrote the exam without any problems.

[nycttophilic-a]

Anne Phantomhive~

=BASIC INFO= FULL NAME: Angelina Phantomhive NICKNAME(S)/ALIAS(ES): Anne, Anastasia, Ana, the Flame Reaper, Demonspawn PRONUNCIATION(S): Ann-gel-ee-na AGE: verse dependent  GENDER: female SPECIES: Reaper BIRTH DATE: January 15th SEXUALITY: Homosexual =PERSONALITY= PERSONALITY: Fiery, warm hearted, strong willed, stubborn, prideful, determined, outspoken, tough, hotheaded EMBODYING QUALITY/IDEA: A fiery young woman with a fighting spirit and a flame in her eyes LIKES: Watching fire, her twin brother, her mother, fighting, reading, playing outside, music, being herself, freedom DISLIKES: Her father, social standards, jerks, people who try to control her, feeling trapped in a situation FEARS: Losing her brother for good, being trapped for the rest of her life WEAKNESSES: She’s very hot headed and stubborn, so she’ll fight anyone who tries to tell her what to do. She also can be very selfish.  STRENGTHS: She’s very warm hearted to those she cares about, and she will protect them at all costs. She also can manipulate fire (explained later) and has a very high body heat, so she’s always warm and can warm other people. SPECIAL/SIGNIFICANT BELONGINGS: She can usually be found wearing a reaper trainee suit (a literal black suit and tie), just because she never changed her attire when becoming a full blown reaper. She doesn’t have reaper glasses, instead the new reaper contact lenses. Also, she has a red motorcycle =PHYSICAL AND HEALTH INFO= HEIGHT: 5’6 feet WEIGHT: 153 pounds BODY TYPE: She’s of average height and kinda curvy, but she’s mostly extremely muscular, especially for a woman. Not quite bodybuilder like, but she clearly works out tons. JEWELRY: She doesn’t care for jewelry PIERCINGS/TATTOOS: None SCARS/DISTINGUISHING MARKS: On her right hand is a long scar that cuts across her entire palm. She got this as a child from saving her brother, Leic, from one of her mother’s swords. =RELATIONSHIP INFO= RELATIONSHIP STATUS: Verse dependent PARENTS: Elizabeth Midford Phantomhive (Mother), Ciel Phantomhive (Father) SIBLING(S): Leic Phantomhive (younger twin brother) – BEST FRIEND(S): verse dependent FRIENDS: Victor Riley, verse dependent ACQUAINTANCES: verse dependent ASSISTANTS: verse dependent GUARDS: N/A ALLIES: verse dependent PETS/SPECIAL ANIMALS: verse dependent – ENEMIES: verse dependent MAIN ENEMY(IES): (maybe Ciel), in some cases Leic, herself, verse dependent MOST HATED: verse dependent =STORY INFO= STORIES THAT THIS CHARACTER APPEARS IN: Black Butler/Kuroshitsuji STATUS: Alive (well, dead, but kinda alive lol) BACKSTORY: (TRIGGER WARNING: SUICIDE) Anne was the first born of twins, and as the eldest, she believed that one day she would be her father’s heir. Since their father was a demon, Leic and Anne were hardly normal children; for one thing they grew much faster than humans. By three months old—all while their father was away, fighting in a war—the twins had the appearance of three year olds with the minds of nine year olds. When Ciel came back, Anne was eager to please him and show him why she should be his heir. However, those dreams were crushed after learning that she couldn’t be the heir since she was a girl. She remembered hearing from her mother of reapers and demons from the stories of Anne’s parents when they were children, and that being a reaper was punishment for taking your own life. Still, it was a whole different world where someone could be whoever they wanted to be, Anne decided. And she wanted a way out to be her own person and not some man’s wife. So, she hung herself to become a reaper.  As a reaper, Anne—or Anastasia, as she went by then—was a prodigy among reapers. Graduating the Academy in a record three years, she was both respected and feared by her fellow reapers. She was administered to the Discipline Branch where she used her extraordinary fighting skills to bring back wayward reapers and admit them to the punishment they deserve. Grelle saw Anne’s potential and, in a way, took her in as her own. Anne sees Grelle like a motherly/sisterly figure, but still refuses to forget about the family she left behind.  – PLACE OF BIRTH: Phantomhive Manor, England PAST LIVING QUARTERS: Phantomhive Manor, the Reaper World CURRENT AND FUTURE HOMES: the Reaper World, verse dependent  – NATIVE LANGUAGE(S): English LANGUAGES SPOKEN: English, French, German, some Russian, some Japanese =TALENTS/OCCUPATION/EDUCATION= OCCUPATION/JOB: grim reaper BOSS: reaper council TALENTS: And excellent fighter and a skilled leader YEARS OF EDUCATION: no formal education, 3 years in the reaper academy LEVEL OF EDUCATION: Grim reaper =COMBAT= SKILLS/TECHNIQUES: She will use her heavy death scythe to her advantage in combat, as well as use her flames. Think of Maka from Soul Eater, but with fire. SPECIAL POWERS: Anne can manipulate and create fire. The oils on her body are flammable and combustible, so if her hormones are activated then she can combust into flames. She sometimes can’t control this if she’s angry, but the older and more experienced she gets the more she can control the flame. She’s also immune to burns as a result. Also, she can control preexisting flames, but not as easily as her own. WEAPON(S) OF CHOICE: Her death scythe is an actual scythe, a mechanical one that transforms into her belt. Also, her scythe can excrete gasoline for her to ignite. STRENGTHS: Can’t get burned by fire, is incredibly strong, determined to win, inhumanly fast, super agile, and has enhanced healing speed. Unaffected by cold temperatures WEAKNESSES: Her weapon is large and needs two hands to wield, leaving her vulnerable mid-attack. =VERSES= ~hσld чσur вrєαth αnd cσunt thє dαчѕ; wє‘rє grαduαtíng ѕσσn~ [High School Verse]—Anne is a rebellious human teen who had been sent to study abroad at an all girls school by her rich father. Now, she’s back with her twin brother, and they both want to give public high school a shot.

~ѕσund σf mч hєαrt; thє вєαt gσєѕ σn αnd σn~ [Band Verse]—Anne is a human who is currently learning to play the bass guitar with her best friend, Lia. With her cousin’s skills with the drums and pleasant voice, as well as her rich father’s admiration for the piano, she was kind of raised around music. Now, she wants to spread her wings. However, that is hardly as easy as it seems.

Queen’s Watchdog Verse TBA—In this Verse, everything is the same…except Anne never became a reaper!! Her entire world is shifted; Leic grows up to become a doctor, Anne is the one who clung to her twin as children, Anne became Ciel’s heiress and pawn, and the fiery woman’s fire extinguished, replaced by a cold heart of stone. She became the next Earl of Phantomhive while her father and mother remain in the Underworld. Now, she is the aristocrat of evil, and she fits the role her father left behind perfectly…sickeningly so.

~í’m α crєαturє whσ‘ѕ up tσ nσ gσσd; í‘ll lσvє чσu líkє α vαmpírє wσuld~ [Vampire Verse]—This verse is very simple and the same for all of the muses that have it: the character is a vampire. This verse is very flexible, so if you have ideas please let me know so we can incorporate it into the thread!! But it’s nothing major, I just love vampires lol

~tαkє mє thrσugh thє níght; fαll íntσ thє dαrk ѕídє~ [Villain! Verse]—A verse for My Hero Academia. Anne is the co-leader of a secret enemy organization that keeps tabs on villains from all over the world, working alongside her twin brother, Leic. She has quirk called Pyromaniac, where she can control flames and set herself aflame, and is also immune to fire and has an elevated body temperature.

~í cαn вє hαppч wíth чσu; вut í cαn‘t вє hαppч íf í‘m dєαd~ [Simulation Verse]—Do you want to ship your muse with one of my four girls? Then this is the verse for you!! That is, if you’re prepared for some REALLY messed up shit and triggers like suicide, abuse, murder, blood, and many others. This verse is not at all for the faint of heart, and it’s best if you don’t really know what you’re in for. If you want to learn a bit more about this verse, you can find it here.

~gσd dαmn ríght; чσu ѕhσuld вє ѕcαrєd σf mє~ [Tokyo Ghoul Verse]—A verse that takes place in the world of Tokyo Ghoul. Here, Anne and Leic are the children of a human aristocrat that found himself with too much power: the knowledge of how to create half ghouls. He used this knowledge to turn himself and his two children into one eyed ghouls to make them strong, having to sacrifice his wife in the process. Now Anne must live with being a monster and having to eat her own kind, as well as struggle to be there for her younger brother through the worst of the worst.

~íf í tσld чσu whαt í wαѕ wσuld чσu turn чσur вαck σn mє?~ [Monster! Verse]—An AU where the world is humans/monster hunters vs. monsters. Here, Anne is an ifrit. She was alive at one point but was murdered by a monster hunter, who mistook the human girl for a monster. Now she despises the human monster hunters and takes joy in murdering them, and ESPECIALLY setting fire to their homes and loved ones.

~wє‘vє вєєn ѕpєndíng mσѕt σf σur lívєѕ lívíng ín thє gαngѕtα‘ѕ pαrαdíѕє~ [BSD! Verse]—Taking place in Bungou Stray Dogs, Anne is the leader of an organization that studies abilities called the Underworld Reapers. Find more info here.

like this post if you have read it and agree to it, please.

[castielinparadise]

Wanna Have Some Fun, Baby? (5)

Summary: You’re introduced to the world of hunting when you come across a body. Along the way, you fall for your fellow hunter. But does he fall back?

Chapter Title: Twilight

Chapter Summary: You wake up in an unknown location and have a one-on-one conversation with the vamp, while Sam and Dean are frantically searching for clues on your whereabouts.

Word Count: 2,032

Chapter Warnings: Swearing, blood, violence, a little angst, some mild fluff

A/N: So this chapter switches back and forth from Sam’s POV to the reader’s POV. I wanted to try something different, and I hope this worked out well!

Read it on AO3!

Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three | Chapter Four

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

Sam woke to a splitting headache and burning pains in both his cheek and back. He winced as he stood up, a hand rising to his burning cheek. One touch told Sam that he’d been punched, and the broken table behind him told him he’d fallen into it.

The memories of what happened came rushing back to him. You going into the bathroom to check on Dean, Dean coming out and you not coming with him, Dean explaining they were going to go and ask the wife a few things while you stayed back and rested after an exhausting day, the door crashing open and the Vamp coming in, Dean yelling and running for his weapon, Dean being knocked out and falling into the dresser, and the Vamp punching him in the face, making him fall into the desk, knocking him out cold.

He rushed over to Dean who was lying unconscious by the now slightly broken dresser, a big bump on his forehead.

“Dean,” he said, lightly shaking him at first. When Dean didn’t respond, Sam started to worry and shook him harder.

“Dean!”, he shouted, panic spreading across his features.

When Dean groaned, Sam stopped shaking him and said his brother’s name once more, with a tone of hope.

“What? What!”, Dean said, annoyed.

“Y/N is gone,” Sam said.

“What? What do you mean ‘gone’??”

Sam gestured towards the bathroom, at the broken table, at the broken lock on the motel door, and then at his bruised cheek.

“Someone broke in? And they didn’t kill us??”, Dean said, obviously confused. “I mean, we are the Winchesters. Who doesn’t want to kill us?”

“Dean,” Sam said, huffing and rolling his eyes. “Y/N is gone, and we don’t know who or what took them to whatever location.”

Dean was silent for a while, thinking about what could have happened to you. A few moments passed before a look of realization, and then anger, spread across his face.

“Son of a bitch,” he said, walking over to his bed and reaching under his pillow to grab his gun.

“It’s the Goddamn vamp.”

~~~

You awoke to the smell of old, musty wood, wet from a recent rainfall. You were on your knees with your hands still tied behind your back. Moonlight poured in through an open window frame, casting a spotlight around you. The farthest you could see was the edge of the moonlit circle in front of you. You began to tug at the ropes binding your hands when you heard a noise that sounded like footsteps.

“Ah!”, a voice said, making the hairs on your body stand on end. "The sleeping beauty is finally awake!”

The voice sounded close, and you could still hear the quiet taps of shoes on wet wood. The taps grew closer, causing your heart to race. You could barely see a silhouette when the taps came to a stop.

"Don’t be afraid, Y/N,” the silhouette said. “I’m not going to hurt you. I just want to explain.”

“How the fuck do you know my name?”, you spat.

The figure sighed and slowly began to walk into the moonlight.

You let out a gasp when you saw who it was.

“Ethan?”

~~~

"We have to find Y/N, Sam,” Dean said, slamming the Impala’s trunk closed. “That son of a bitch is gonna pay.”

Both Winchesters got into the Impala, shutting the doors at the same time. Sam watched as Dean fumbled to get the keys into the ignition.

“Dean?”, he said, raising his eyebrows in concern.

“What?!”, Dean snapped, dropping the keys onto the floor. He mumbled something along the lines of, "Fucking piece of shit keys,” and reached down to grab them.

“Dean, are you okay?”, Sam asked.

“No, Sam, I’m not. If I hadn’t been screwing around in the motel, Y/N would be safe and not currently held prisoner by a vampire whose location is unknown. We don’t even know if Y/N is alive right now, Sam.”

Dean leaned his elbow on the window of the Impala and rested his hand on his forehead, closing his eyes.

“It’s not your fault, Dean. We both let our guards down,” Sam said, trying to make his brother feel better. “If we leave now, we might get there in time to save Y/N.”

Dean sighed and ran his hand down his face. Sam watched him as he clenched his jaw and pursed his lips, sliding the key into the ignition, making the Impala roar to life.

As they backed out of the motel parking lot, Sam pulled out his laptop and started typing, trying to find your location through your cell’s GPS signal. He typed a few things in, causing a red dot to pop up on his screen.

“Found them,” he said, leaning in to look at where the dot was located. “They’re at an abandoned barn left off the main town road.”

Dean pushed down on the accelerator, making the Impala grow louder, and followed Sam’s directions, hoping they’d make it to you in time.

~~~

You were in shock.

“Ethan, where were you? What happened to you? We were all so worried about you. The whole town went looking for you. I’ve missed you.”

“I’m here to tell you what happened to me. Why I went missing our junior year of high school,” he said, pulling a chair over and sitting in front of you.

“I was walking home from your house late that night. I knew I should’ve just asked for a ride home, but I thought the walk would be good for me, so I kept walking the mile to my house. I was passing by an alley near my uncle’s pizza place when I heard this voice crying for help.” He took a deep breath and ran his hand through his hair before continuing.

“I ran into the alley and looked around for the woman who cried for help. She was leaning against the alley wall with all these cuts and bruises on her face, like someone had beaten her up. When I approached her and asked if she was okay, she said she was now and then fell into my arms and hugged me. I was getting ready to bring her into my uncle’s place when three guys surrounded us. They started to move towards us, and I tried to protect the lady, but it turned out she was with them. One of the guys knocked me out, and I woke up chained to the ceiling in this concrete room. I called out for help, and one of the the guys just laughed and said it was no use. Then he walked up and bit my neck.”

You remembered how you were bitten before you were taken from the motel, the pain from it still there.

“Then he forced me to drink some of his blood. I remember this sort of buzzing feeling spreading through my body when that happened. Like I was hopped up on three different drugs at the same time. Then this stabbing pain in my mouth happened, and I had these sharp ass teeth sticking out where all my normal teeth usually were. I started feeling dizzy and was sweating a lot, and then the girl from the alley walked up and cut her arm. Just seeing that blood made me crazy, and when she put her wrist to my mouth, it was like heaven. I’d never tasted anything like it in my life.”

Once he’d finished, he chuckled and rubbed the back of his neck.

“No,” you whispered, not wanting to believe what you just heard. “It can’t be true.”

“Well, it’s true, Y/N. I’m a vampire.”

~~~

Sam and Dean had almost made it to the barn. They only had a few more yards before it came into view.

“We should stop here,” Sam said, looking over at Dean.

The whole ride there had been silent. Dean hadn’t said anything else about the conversation they had earlier, and it was starting to bug Sam. Normally Dean wasn’t this quiet unless something was up.

Sam opened his mouth to ask Dean if anything else was wrong, but stopped, making a mental note to ask him about it later.

Dean stopped the car in the woods, semi-hidden from plain sight, and got out. He walked to the trunk and reached in to grab both him and Sam a machete. When Sam walked up, he held it out to him.

“We don’t know how many vamps we’re going to be walking in on, so be cautious,” he said. He told himself it was stupid of him to worry about Sam when you were in danger right now. He shook his head to himself, not unnoticed by Sam, and started walking towards the barn.

~~~

“No. It can’t be. You can’t be a vamp,” you said as you looked down at the ground, shaking your head.

“But I am, Y/N,” Ethan said, standing up and walking over to you.

“Why didn’t you tell me sooner, Ethan? Why wait until now?”, you asked, looking up at Ethan, tears starting to form in your eyes.

Ethan crouched down in front of you and placed his right hand on your cheek, using his thumb to wipe away the freed tears.

“I wanted to tell you. I really did. You wouldn’t have believed me though. I only knew that I could tell you now when I saw you with the Winchesters,” he said, sliding his hand down to cup your chin.

“I kept looking for you after everyone else had given up, hoping that I’d find you and you’d be alright,” you said, more tears building up and overflowing.

“I am alright, Y/N.”

You shook your head.

“No, Ethan. You’re not. You’re a vampire. You’re… You’re a monster,” you said, hot tears now running down your cheeks.

Anger flashed across Ethan’s face, twisting it into a sour look. His hand fell from your chin and settled back at his side.

“I am not a monster,” he said, venom seeping through each word.

“Tell that to the innocent man you killed, Twilight.”

You looked over to the barn doors and saw Sam and Dean standing with blades in their hands. Your eyes met Sam’s and a sense of relief filled your body.

You were going to be okay.

A smile had just started forming on your lips when Ethan thrust his wrist up to your mouth, a warm substance going down your throat.

You heard Dean shout your name and Sam shouting stop, but you couldn’t focus because of Ethan’s blood hitting your tongue and going down your throat.

Just like Ethan said, a buzzing feeling soon began to spread through your body. You started feeling dizzy when Ethan removed his wrist from your now blood covered mouth. It felt like your head was going to explode from all the noise going on around you.

You fell to the side, head slamming into the wooden floors, making your head spin even more. You heard Dean yell your name and saw him try to come over to you, but Ethan jumped out and tackled him, making them both crash into the wall.

Sam rushed over to you to make sure you were alright, feeling your temperature and looking at your bite mark.

You saw Ethan pin Dean against the wall and start to lean in to bite him.

“Dean,” you said weakly.

Sam followed where your eyes were and quickly got up and ran over to Dean, pushing Ethan off of him. Sam went to cut off Ethan’s head, but you cried out for him to not do it.

“Sam, no!”, you yelled as loud as you could. Your stomach had started to ache, hungry.

"Why the hell not, Y/N?!”, Dean said, wondering why you were saying such a thing.

"He’s my friend,” you explained, sweat building on your forehead and your stomach growling.

“Yeah, well he’s also a fucking vampire!”

You tried to explain why you didn’t want Ethan to die, but you couldn’t because the spinning and sweating and hunger got worse.

And then everything was dark.

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

WHSF,B? Tags: @xxsexybedheadxx, @just-a-touch-of-sass-and-fandoms, @laurykat23, @sandlee44