#arch 11 off the rails

[a-panacake]

i desperately need more unprepared casters fanfics. specifically arc 11. please im a deprived little creature.

[macbethsymphony]

The Swordsman and the Blacksmith | Chapter 12

Roronoa Zoro x Reader

Chapter wc: 2.5k

Chapter rating: SFW-ish

Content/Warnings: NSFW, 18+, Fem!Reader, Enemies to lovers, SLOW slow burn, Eventual smut

Summary: Your skills as a blacksmith have made you desirable to both the government and pirates. You know you have to leave this island if you want to escape your fate, but that doesn't make the choice of leaving any easier. Roronoa Zoro is intrigued by your skills as a blacksmith. Your work is like nothing he's ever seen before. Unfortunately, you're hot-headed and he's rude and you both definitely hate each other.

Chapters [1][2][3][4][5][6][7][8][9][10][11]

Masterlist

Slowly crossposting from AO3 Feel like binging the rest of it? it's all there!

Chapter 12: Shiawase

Roronoa Zoro was struggling. He hated to admit it, but he was coming to his wit’s end on how to handle the sword the witch had presented to him. He'd been at it for almost three days now, and there had been no progress. The damn thing was as stubborn and temperamental as the one who forged it.

He paced back and forth on the sun-drenched deck of the ship, slowly circling the sheathed Shiawase as he pondered how to approach it next. His mind was a battleground of contemplation, frustration, and a tinge of admiration for the weapon’s defiance. With a frustrated sigh, he picked up the blade, fingers wrapping around the handle in a now familiar battle of wills.

He unsheathed it, the scabbard sliding smoothly against the blade. The steel gleamed under the harsh sunlight, its surface adorned with an intricate Damascus pattern that danced in hues of amethyst and obsidian. Despite his vexation, he couldn’t help but admire the blade’s craftmanship, the perfect balance as he twirled it, the deadly sharpness of its edge.

And then it started again. The push and pull the blade demanded of his haki. A dizzying rhythm that left him breathless and sweat drenched. He groaned as he extended his haki towards the blade, trying to overwhelm the sword’s will with his own determination. His brow furrowed as the blade suddenly pulled at his haki, devouring it insatiably. He tried to pull back, beads of sweat travelling down across the muscles of his bare back, the scorching sun drying them out almost instantly.

His hand twitched.

The blade dropped.

An annoyed ‘fuck’ passed his lips.

A sly smile played on your lips as you observed Zoro's fruitless attempts to subdue the rebellious Shiawase. It was a spectacle of futility, a dance of frustration that seemed to distance him further from mastering the obstinate blade. Each move was a misstep, a testament to the intricate challenge that lay before him, and you found a unmistakable enjoyment in witnessing his struggles.

While a part of you yearned to approach him, to reveal the secrets of the blade with effortless finesse, another part reveled in the idea of prolonging his torment. The allure of letting him grapple with the realization of his own limitations appealed to you far more than you liked to admit.

Leaning casually against the ship's railing, you crossed your arms, the glint in your eyes betraying your amusement. The unfolding drama below held your attention like a captivating performance, a blend of determination and stubbornness that both entertained and intrigued.

As the scorching sun reflected brightly off the blade, highlighting Zoro's increasing frustration, you couldn't resist a playful taunt. "Need some help, swordsman?" you called out with a teasing tone. "I can show you how it’s done if you beg.”

His response was a nonchalant flip of the finger, a gesture that spoke volumes, even without a direct glance in your direction. You laughed in the face of his irritation.

Nami strolled over, her eyes flickering between you and the swordsman with an arched eyebrow. “Not in your forge?” She inquired. “I thought you were itching to get back to work.”

Your gaze flickered to her momentarily before going back to the entertaining display before you. “I am” you admitted. “It’s just too hot. I’ll have a stroke if I light those fires.”

A noncommittal sound passed her lips in acknowledgement as she leaned against the railing with you. “Looks like Zoro’s having a rough time” she remarked, glancing down.

You nodded, a smirk playing on your lips. “He’s going at it all wrong. Shiawase’s not a sword you can overpower. You have to play along with it, entertain its demands, let it gauge your intentions before you can take control.” You explained. “He’s trying to brute force his way in.”

Nami raised an eyebrow, intrigued by your assessment. “You talk like swords are people.” She observed.

You smiled. “Because they are. Each and every sword has a personality. Mine are just a little more difficult.” you clarified with a chuckle.

Nami eyed you curiously. “Well, he’s not one to back down from a challenge. It is amusing to see him struggle for once though.” She said.

As if on cue, Zoro let out a frustrated grunt, his movements growing more erratic as he attempted to force the sword into submission. It was clear that he was only digging himself deeper into his frustration.

“You can do it, Zoro!” Chopper and Usopp cheered from the sidelines in sync.

You snorted at the evident anger in the swordsman’s features.

“Think he’ll ever figure it out?” Robin asked, tone laced with amusement as she joined you and Nami.

“He will” You don’t skip a beat, your answer confident.

A mischievous gleam sparkled in Nami’s eyes as she leaned in closer, her voice lowering to a conspiratorial whisper. “Should we make a wager on it?” She suggested, a playful grin tugging at the corners of her lips.

“Why not? It’ll make things more interesting” Robin agreed, playful sparkle in her eyes matching Nami’s

“I bet it’ll take him three more days to figure it out” Nami smirked, crossing her arms.

You considered the proposition, a devious grin forming on your face. "I'll take that bet. But I say he'll get it by tomorrow evening."

Robin chuckled. “I didn’t know you were so confident in Zoro’s abilities” she remarked. “I bet he’ll cave and ask you for advice in two days.” She said after much consideration.

You snorted at the thought. “I doubt so, but I’ll put 1000 berries on that wager.”

“Deal” Nami sealed the bet, anticipation hanging in the air as the three of you looked back at the spectacle before you.

The day had dragged on, the relentless sun casting long shadows across the ship's deck as Zoro stubbornly persisted in his futile attempts to tame the unruly Shiawase. From your vantage point, you continued to watch with a mixture of fascination and amusement.

With each passing moment, you observed the subtle shifts in Zoro's technique, his movements growing increasingly erratic as frustration threatened to engulf him. The once calculated swordsman now seemed consumed by wrath, his determination bordering on obsession.

As evening descended and the crew gathered for dinner, Zoro remained absent. Bets from the rest of the Straw Hats were made as they all animatedly shared their own hypothesis of the outcome between the swordsman and the sword. As night settled in the sky, Zoro stormed in a whirlwind of unchecked fury, interrupting the lively conversations, and left just as fast with two bottles in hand. The door slammed hard behind him, the reverberation a punctuation mark on his turbulent mood.

“Why don’t you point him in the right direction?” Luffy’s curious inquiry cut through the lingering silence, his innocent curiosity revealing the unspoken question that lingered in the minds of many aboard the ship.

You glanced over at Luffy, his expression one of genuine curiosity, and then turned your gaze back to where Zoro had stormed off. A wry smile tugged at the corners of your lips as you considered your captain's question.

"He's a bit too proud for that," you replied, your voice carrying a hint of amusement. "Besides, some lessons are best learned through experience."

Luffy nodded thoughtfully, seeming to accept your explanation without further inquiry. Around you, the rest of the crew had resumed their conversations, though the tension that had accompanied Zoro's departure still hung in the air like a heavy fog.

With a sigh you got up, leaving the galley in search of the angry swordsman. He was sitting down, back resting on the mast of the ship as he downed alcohol with abandon.

You approached him, the night air offering a refreshing reprieve from the day's scorching heat. "Like I said earlier, I can help if you beg," you teased, a playful glint in your eyes contrasting with the seriousness in his. “There’s really no need to get so angry over a sword, it’s not like it’ll disappear tomorrow.” You added softly.

"I’m not in the mood to talk to you, witch," he snapped, the bitterness in his voice evident as he took a long gulp of amber liquid, his gaze fixed on the unsheathed Shiawase before him.

Ignoring his sharp retort, you settled beside him, breaking the heavy silence with a question. "Which one of your swords are you going to let me study first?" you inquired, attempting to lighten the tense atmosphere.

Zoro shot you a skeptical glance, his gruff response cutting through the night. "Don't get ahead of yourself," he warned, his tone laced with impatience.

Your laughter rang out, undeterred by his bluntness. "Oh? Planning to throw in the towel already? I didn’t peg you as one to give up so easily," you remarked teasingly, a hint of scorn in your voice.

“I’m not fucking giving up,” he shot back, his resolve evident despite his frustration.

Mocking his stubbornness, you continued, "Ah, of course, because the great Roronoa Zoro, pirate hunter, knows all about swords, doesn’t he?" you taunted. "Perhaps you'd make some progress if you weren't so pathetically stubborn."

Zoro's grip on the glass tightened, his anger palpable. "I’ll figure it out," he grumbled, his voice tinged with cold determination.

Scoffing at the memories of his futile attempts, you reached for the bottle in his hand, draining the last drops in exasperation. "Oh, please. You couldn’t handle Shiawase if it came with an instruction manual. You’re only pushing yourself further from the solution," you remarked, the irritation in your tone matching his as his anger mingled with your mood.

His temper flared, his words cutting through the air like a sharpened blade. "Listen, witch. I don’t need your condescending advice," he growled, the venom in his voice stinging.

Seething at the derogatory inflections as he uttered the nickname, you stood up, your resolve unyielding. "At least I’m not too proud to admit when I need help," you retorted, looking down at him with a mix of defiance and pity.

His jaw clenched in response, the tension between you palpable.

With a mischievous smirk playing on your lips, you gracefully bent down to retrieve the sword. “Watch closely, swordsman. Consider it a gift from me to you,” you quipped, your tone dripping with sarcasm.

As your fingers wrapped around the silk of the handle, you felt Zoro's intense gaze fixed upon the blade. Your haki danced with the steel in a mesmerizing display of power, the complex waltz between your mind and the sword unfolding effortlessly.

Deciding to showcase your skill, you allowed red lightning filaments to saunter along the Damascus patterns in intricate swirls, a spectacle that demanded attention.

After a brief demonstration, you sheathed the blade, denying Zoro any further observation. “Understood?” you inquired, your voice laced with self-satisfaction as you leaned back casually against the mast.

A flicker of anger flashed in Zoro's eyes as he twisted open a new bottle, consuming its contents with reckless abandon. “I'll handle Shiawase my own way. I don’t need your tricks and mind games,” he spat through gritted teeth, as he stumbled up.

He drunkenly took a step forward, his hand dangerously close to your head as he pinned you with a look of unbridled contempt.

Refusing to back down, you met his gaze with unwavering defiance, a sneer curling your lips. “Tricks and mind games? You overestimate yourself, swordsman,” you retorted, matching his venomous tone with your own.

As your eyes locked in a silent battle of wills, you prepared to unleash another scathing remark, but a shift in Zoro's demeanor gave you pause. Your mouth opened and closed in doubt. The moment of uncertainty seemed to go on forever, a standstill in eternity as the unstoppable force met the immovable object.

Releasing the bottle with a loud thud against the wooden deck, his gaze bore into yours, searching for something elusive. Unable to resist, he roughly brushed his thumb against your lips, a crude gesture that demanded compliance.

“So you can shut up, witch,” he declared haughtily, The rough pad applying soft pressure against your teeth in a call for submission.

A surge of conflicting emotions swept through you, leaving you momentarily disoriented. You wished you could attribute it to the alcohol's influence, but you knew deep down it wasn't the case. Despite your inner resistance, you yielded slightly to his unspoken demand, a defiant glint shimmering in your eyes.

A smug smirk danced upon his lips, fuelled by the haze of alcohol as his index and middle finger ventured into the soft recesses of your mouth.

The tension in your grip on Shiawase intensified, the wooden scabbard creaking under the strain of your tightening fingers.

“I don’t like you,” he declared, his voice dripping with disdain as he peered down at you from his intoxicated perch.

Your knuckles whitened as your nails threatened to etch crescent marks into the lacquered walnut surface.

“Fuck you,” you retorted for lack of cleverer arguments, your words muffled by the intrusive weight of his fingers within your mouth.

An arch of his eyebrows betrayed a blend of amusement and irritation at your defiance. The charged atmosphere crackled between you, an intricate dance of egos teetering on the brink of conflict. Despite your verbal insolence, he maintained his condescending gaze, seemingly unaffected by your resistance.

The pressure of his fingers on your tongue shifted, edging perilously close to the back of your throat, coercing your jaw to widen further. He paused, savoring the control he appeared to have over the situation.

With a flicker of irritation, you shifted uncomfortably under his penetrating stare, a rebellious scowl etching across your features before you firmly bit down on his fingers. It wasn't a bite meant to inflict pain, but rather a not-so-subtle gesture to convey your displeasure.

The look in his eyes hardened momentarily, amusement flickering in and out as he contemplated his next move. However, before he could act, you took the initiative. Your hand, clutching Shiawase, interposed itself between you and the swordsman as you attempted to nudge him away, but his stance stayed resolute.

His smirk widened at your defiance. He withdrew his hand from your mouth, the bitter taste of skin remaining on your tongue, a stark reminder of what just happened. With a nonchalant shrug, he took a step back, his gaze lingering on you with a blend of satisfaction and an enigmatic something that eluded your understanding.

“You’re drunk, swordsman,” you remarked, pushing the sword towards his chest.

“I suppose I am,” he conceded, his hand overlapping yours as he grasped the sword. The cool touch of his spit-covered fingers against yours sent an unfamiliar chill coursing down your spine.

With a dismissive huff, he turned away, sword in hand. “Thanks for the tip, witch,” he called out over his shoulder. “I think I’ve figured it out.”

And indeed, he had.

Just as you had explained all those nights ago in the crow's nest, you and your swords were one and the same. If he could silence your defiance, he could conquer Shiawase. He simply needed to approach the sword with a different mindset, teasing out its secrets with a more playful and taunting demeanor, echoing the rhythm of your now familiar banter.

It took Roronoa Zoro two more days before he presented the sword back to you, a triumphant grin on his lips.

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Masterlist

[citysweet]

chan grabbing you by the back of your neck, walking you to your shared room after you misbehaved while out with your guy's friends. rubbing up on him when you know everyone else could see. the sound of the front door slamming shut leaving a quiet echo through the house. his hand gripping your neck tightly, until he pushes you down onto the bed,

grabbing your thighs and flipping you onto your back. he tugs the nearly too short skirt you had on off, pulling his keys out of his pocket and slices through your underwear, careful to not cut you. he rips them off, tossing them somewhere else in the room.

"you wanna be a dirty little slut? hm?" he asks, glaring down at you with a hand now wrapped around your throat. you shake your head, a false look in your eyes asking for forgiveness. this is exactly what you wanted to happen. "n-no chris-"

"too fucking bad. act like one and i'll treat you like one." he spat, you could feel his breath on your face. he lifted his knee right between your thighs, pressing up against your wet cunt. you gasp, eyes widening at the stimulation. he chuckles darkly at your reaction, "fucking whore, already soaking wet for me, yeah? desperate bitch."

you desperately grind your hips against his knee, the cloth of his pants only adding to your pleasure. your hands grip the blanket beneath you, already whining his name when you feel that familiar knot in your stomach. he laughs again, mocking you. "aw, you're close already? yeah? cum then."

you feel the knot snap, moaning out his name and arching your back. you drop your hips back down to the bed, trying to catch your breath. chan looks down at you before picking you up and turning you on your stomach. you gasp, turning to ask what he's doing, "shut the fuck up. whores don't get to talk."

then he railed you into the mattress, making you cum over and over again until you begged him to stop <3

© citysweet 11:06am 090723

一 i don't think chris would call his s/o a bitch, even during sex but it's the thought that counts :D

[was-that-a-fanfic]

Love Him Till The Day That You Die!

careful navigation

Chapter 11: Do This

Last< --- >Next

It took a few rounds of assuring and swearing that he was alright and that the ice wasn’t having a lasting effect on him that she finally gave in and agreed they didn’t have to call the whole thing off and go back to safe haven so he could recover further.

It didn’t escape her they were reversing the conversation they’d had only a few hours earlier when she’d told him she was going to look for the supply cache by herself.

Once everything had been stowed they turned their attention back to the west block, this time with considerably less distraction.

The cart rail curved its way around the outer part of the prison, terminating at a heavily fortified and reinforced gate. It would be impossible to force open from the outside, didn’t even have any gaps large enough for Doey to squeeze through, but that wasn’t their current goal.

A ledge jutted out to one side of the prison overhanging yet another long drop down to an underground river, the one fed by the waterfall beside safe haven. It wasn’t horribly narrow, but it wasn’t exactly spacious either.

Doey was decently confident there would be no traps on this route so the mood was much lighter, the chatter more playful.

“Aw come on just one more time, plleeassee?”

Susan chuckled, shaking her head.

“I already showed you once, that’s enough till it’s actually needed.”

“...what if I’m still chilly though...?” The 700 pound dough man rubbed his arms and gave a theatrical shiver before turning to look at her hopefully.

Susan stopped and squinted at him with an unimpressed expression that was trying and failing to hide her amusement.

“Oh reallllyy? Then maybe we should head back to safe haven till you warm up.”

Bluff thoroughly called his eyes widened and he turned on his heels (his body did anyway, head taking a second to follow) and marched onward.

“Actually it’s pretty toasty here! Oh! what an interesting stalactite.”

If Susan laughed any harder she was going to fall off the cave ledge.

He was playing it up, she knew he was, because of how scared she’d been for him before. But just like when she'd known he was only leaving her parts he could easily have carried without her just so she felt included, she appreciated the sentiment.

“Absolutely fascinating...although we stalagmight have a little problem up here.” She motioned down to the stalagmites below, clearly visible because the ledge had caved in at some point and left a sizable gap to the next section of their path.

“Oh that’s not gonna be a problem at all!” He assured her.

“You’re right, nothing too bad.” She was nodding as she peered with him at the other side, agreeing and pointing out “Looks like there’s some boards from the original construction, should be big enough to bridge it.”

“Yeah! That’ll make things much easier when we come back thr-!? Wait NO!”

He’d registered her step back from the edge but hadn’t realized why and that it was so she could get a runing start to leap over the gap till he turned to look back at her.

He caught her mid air, his hand stretching so most of her was in his palm and scooped her back onto solid ground where she stumbled into the wall.

“WHAT ARE YOU DOING!?”

His voice was filled with absolute bafflement mixed with panic as she steadied herself and looked legitimately confused back.

“Going to get that plank, I’ve jumped gaps almost double that plenty of times. It wont take me a second.”

He stammered, at a complete loss for words as he motioned fruitlessly between her and the gap, finally getting out.

“I- B- ugh - just -”

He motioned for her to wait there, turned, and dropped off the edge.

She made a choked noise but as soon as he’d started to drop his body shifted and became a short, arched bridge.

“See?”

The colored dough hands normally decorating his body now motioned her across.

It hadn’t even occurred to her, she was so used to just going and dealing with this stuff herself as she went. Well, her son may not be able to blush anymore but she sure could.

As soon as she was over he reformed. Grabbing the large plank that she would have had to struggle to get in place like it weighed nothing and settled it down over the gap.

An arm stretched to press his palm at each end, smearing a bit of his dough to cement it in place.

“There’s some nasty falls in this place, you shouldn’t take risks like that!” Wait, hadn’t he said nearly the same thing to tease Poppy’s friend just the day before?

She bit her lip awkwardly as they continued on. Thinking of the dilapidated, poorly designed factory above and the prison ahead that was no better.

“I get it, but- have you seen this place? I’m not used to a lot of other options.”

Some of that was down to her own spiteful choices, she didn’t touch grab packs unless she absolutely had to. But the things were also unwieldy if you weren’t properly and thoroughly trained and for obvious reasons she wasn’t.

“But I can get you across.” He pouted, but only slightly, muttering after a moment as if reminded they should. “… ‘m sorry I yelled.”

“I’m more sorry I scared you. Don’t think I can make any promises, but I’ll try not to pull any more stunts without asking for help first, okay?”

He nodded, only a little sulkily.

---

There was a hole torn into the wall here, something within had collapsed and the rubble had burst outward and was sealed shut with multi colored clay.

“Used to use this to get in and search for supplies. Left it sealed up once I’d cleared the usable stuff out. That was years ago though” He explained, pressing first one hand and then the other deep into the dough.

After a moment it started to shift; quivering, then flowing towards and into him, leaving behind enough at the edges to keep things structurally sound. Unless it was her imagination once it was done he was the tiniest bit larger.

The words ‘---- -ntake West’ were just visible on the far wall, a mound of rubble piled high blocking most of the letters. Pipes and wires and rebar had been torn from the ceiling and lay crushed under it’s weight.

“The good news is the red smoke pipes are under their, they got so crushed they’re sealed closed. So at least we don’t have to worry about that in this area.”

“That’s a relief.” She muttered as she took the place in, taking a moment to appreciate and compliment his handy work.

Things were quiet again though. Internally the part of him that was mostly Matthew was wringing his metaphorical hands over having shouted, concerned he’d ruined everything just because he’d been worried.

This wouldn’t do, looked like it was up to Kevin and Jack to handle things.

“At least we don’t have to go through containment, that’s where they keep the giant dough jar.”

Susan looked back at them from where she was picking her way down the rubble and he waited for her to take the bait.

“Dough... Jar?”

Got her.

“Yeah, you know. Plastic red jar, says Doey Dough on the sticker, blue lid that looks like this.”

He flicked the rim of his hat as her expression went from extremely concerned to uncertain.

It was taking everything Jack had not to cause the rest of him to giggle and give everything away.

“When we got in trouble they’d stick us back in there and close the lid *pop*… One time a researcher got really annoyed and put a clearance sticker on it.”

He made a rectangle shape with his fingers, keeping his expression as neutral as possible as he glanced over to her.

That just barely failing to hide amusement squint returned to her face.

She managed to hold it for only a few seconds before dissolving into laughter again, turning on her heels and climbing down even faster pretending to get away from him while jokingly announcing that she was done.

---

Susan followed Doey’s lead.

It had been a couple of years since he’d last been here. But still he had some idea of the layout, although he was used to navigating things in a very different way than on foot on the way in and then fumbling his way out if he did happen to find anything useful that couldn’t fit in the pipes with him.

But so far the doors they’d run into had been unlocked and unblocked once they were past the collapsed intake room. They just needed to go in and up to get to where she suspected the cache was hidden within the prison block and he was fairly certain there was one somewhere around here.

With a pleasant *bing* the elevator door opened at the end of the hall.

“...Oh absolutely not.”

Susan deadpanned as Doey emphatically shook his head no.

They both glared the elevator down with suspicion, it was far too pristine and enclosed for either of them to trust, and that was before taking into account neither of them had pressed the button to call it.

“There’s another way up, right?”

“Yeah, should be some stairs this way, hope they’ll still be intact.”

---

They were.

Story after story of skeletal stairs stretched above them. The geometry of this place utterly confounded her.

They were a few floors up when something crashed and skittered below them, drawing both of their attention over the side.

Susan sighed as she struggled to try and see anything below them.

“The first time I came through I felt like I was being watched the entire way, told myself it was Pianosaurus after our little run in, but I’m starting to wonder.”

Susan’s hands hovered over, but never actually touched, the handrail as she peered down at the darkness below.

The part of Doey that was just Kevin noticed it first, realization hitting shortly after.

She didn’t trust it. The handrail had failed, Jack had died, and she never trusted a safety rail again.

It broke the part that was only Jack’s heart, but left Matthew and Kevin concerned, they’d have to keep an eye on that.

The top of the stairwell led them nearly into the prison proper, first through a series of side offices that had been absolutely destroyed.

Chairs, desks, filing cabinets, everything had been tossed about, twisted, and dented.

They picked their way through the chaos, pausing in a less destroyed office so Susan could rifle through some paperwork and see if there was anything interesting. Doey poked around the desk drawers while she read, sometimes there were useful things left behind in there.

“Hrrmmm”

The monitor on top of the desk had flickered to life, a single black and white eye looking him over with a terrifyingly familiar disdain.

“One. Three. Two. Two…”

They couldn’t breath, air coming in short desperate gasps as that eye pinned them in place like a bug to a board. Bored contempt dripping from every syllable it spoke

“I must say, it is QUITE a surprise to see you skulking about after all. this. time.”

Hands and cold and pokes and pain and shocks. The memories kept him frozen in panic as the eye blinked.

“I suppose I could spare a bit of time for an old project. After al-”

The screen shut down with a snap.

Susan stood behind it glaring at a security camera they’d barely paid any mind too on the way in with such deep unfettered loathing in her eyes.

Her glare turned to a predatory smile as she raised the plug into view from where she’d pulled it, eyes locked with the camera as she slowly turned the same hand to flip it off.

A sudden movement,

and the feed went dark.

“…”

“...Interesting.”

[pankowcrumbs]

Fame X Taron Egerton Chapter 9

MasterList

Chapter 1. 2. 3. 4. 5. 6. 7. 8. 9. 10. 11.

The press tour for Blind Date was a whirlwind of glamour, jet lag, and endless interviews. Y/N and Taron found themselves hopping from city to city, promoting the film that had already started to generate massive buzz. Their on-screen chemistry had become the talk of the town, and the rumors about their off-screen relationship were only adding fuel to the fire.

In nearly every interview, the inevitable question popped up.

“The chemistry between you two is undeniable,” a journalist in Paris commented, leaning forward with an eager smile. “It’s almost too good to be acting. Is there anything more there?”

Y/N opened her mouth to respond, but Taron beat her to it.

“We’ve just spent a lot of time together,” he said, his tone casual but his eyes sparkling with mischief. “You’d be surprised how good you get at pretending after six months of filming.”

“Pretending?” Y/N repeated, arching an eyebrow at him. “I think we all know who carried the emotional weight in this movie, Taron.”

“Oh, is that so?” he shot back, feigning offense. The journalist laughed, the tension breaking as they bantered like two best friends.

Their playful dynamic didn’t just charm the press—fans were eating it up. Every interview clip and red carpet appearance was dissected online, with fan edits flooding social media. Montages of their shared laughs, lingering glances, and inside jokes were set to romantic soundtracks, racking up millions of views.

During an interview in Tokyo, the host brought up one of the edits.

“Have you seen the videos fans make of you two?” she asked, holding up her phone to show a particularly popular edit. The video featured clips of Y/N and Taron, overlaid with captions like, “They’re in love and they know it.”

Y/N covered her face, laughing. “Oh my gosh, I’ve seen a few. They’re very… creative.”

Taron leaned over to watch the clip, his expression amused. “I have to admit, some of them are scarily well-edited. They make it look like we’re starring in a rom-com in real life.”

“Aren’t we?” Y/N quipped, earning a burst of laughter from everyone in the room.

In between interviews, there were quieter, more candid moments. While waiting for their next segment in New York, they found themselves in a cramped green room, sipping on coffee and scrolling through their phones.

“Look at this,” Taron said, turning his screen toward Y/N. It was a tweet that read: "Y/N and Taron’s body language at every event could melt ice. Just date already!"

Y/N rolled her eyes but couldn’t help laughing. “People are relentless. We could post a picture of us sitting five feet apart, and they’d still find a way to ship us.”

“Maybe we should start posing like we hate each other,” Taron suggested, smirking. “Arms crossed, glaring at each other.”

“Yeah, because that’ll really convince them,” Y/N shot back, nudging him playfully.

By the time they reached Los Angeles, they had perfected their strategy for dodging relationship questions. During a joint interview, the host tried once again to dig for details.

“There’s so much speculation about your off-screen relationship,” she said. “Can you confirm or deny anything for the fans?”

Taron and Y/N exchanged a look, their silent communication honed after months of working together.

“Well, we can confirm that we had an amazing time filming together,” Y/N said diplomatically, her smile never faltering.

“And we can confirm that we’re both big fans of each other,” Taron added, his tone warm but non-committal.

The host laughed, shaking her head. “You two are good at this.”

After a particularly grueling day of interviews in Sydney, Y/N and Taron found themselves on the balcony of their hotel, overlooking the city lights. The warm breeze carried the scent of the ocean, and for the first time in weeks, they felt like they could breathe.

“I’m exhausted,” Y/N admitted, leaning against the railing. “I don’t think I’ve talked this much in my entire life.”

Taron chuckled, standing beside her. “Same. But, for what it’s worth, I’m glad I’m doing this with you.”

She turned to look at him, her heart skipping a beat at the sincerity in his voice. “Me too.”

For a moment, the world felt still, the chaos of the press tour fading into the background. And though they hadn’t defined their relationship to the public—or even to themselves—this moment felt like an unspoken promise of something more.

[lovelyladyabsinthewrites]

Love Song for a Vampire Pt. 32

Pairing(s): Edward Cullen x Wolf!Reader, Jacob Black x OC!Witch

Warnings:none

Words:2144

Part 1  Part 2  Part 3  Part 4  Part 5  Part 6  Part 7  Part 8  Part 9  Part 10  Part 11  Part 12  Part 13  Part 14  Part 15  Part 16  Part 17  Part 18  Part 19  Part 20  Part 21  Part 22  Part 23  Part 24  Part 25  Part 26  Part 27  Part 28  Part 29  Part 30  Part 31  Part 33  Part 34  Part 35  Part 36  Part 37  Part 38  Part 39  Part 40(series finale) 

Bright and early, you leave your house to check on Evita. Sam had told you making just one of those wards had drained her of all energy. Just one. And there was so many more she needed to make in order to protect the borders of La Push and Forks.

Evita sat out on Sam’s front porch, a mug in her hands that had ribbons of rising steam trailing from it. Her face was pale, too pale opposed to her usual tan complexion. But her eyes when they flick to you are still alive and observant. A hair band pushed away her tightly wound curls to show off the pale pink scars on her face. “Good morning (y/n).”

“Good morning. How are you feeling?” You ask and sit on the front steps, angling your body toward her since there was only one chair on the porch.

She sighs and leans back, her shoulders sagging. “It’s taking a lot longer to recover my energy. I was hoping I’d be able to make another ward today, but I don’t think I’ll be up for it.”

“Sam said you had a friend coming.”

With a hum, she nods. “Yes. But I don’t know when he’ll be here. He’s constantly on the move. Most of the time he doesn’t have cellular service.” Her fingers tap against her mug. “I didn’t know it would take that much out of me. I’m not the strongest witch out there, but I’m fairly competent. I’ve seen my mother make wards before but mainly for our home. Nothing for a large reach of land. Times like these I wish she was here or even Leti. Leti was the most talented of our whole family. That’s why Xiomara saw her as a threat.”

She really hadn’t had time to mourn her sister. Now she was far away from any kind of family and help. You admire her tenacity. How strong she was even though Evita couldn’t have been much older than you. You think of your parents and how relieved they were when they saw you last night. Constantly making them worry about your wellbeing. Not even being with Edward had soothed them. Was Evita’s mom equally worried about her young daughter all alone?

”By the way,” Evita takes a sip from her mug before she proceeds “who was that girl yesterday? I don’t think I was introduced to her before.”

You knew who she meant. “That was Bella Swan.”

One thick eyebrow arches in intrigue. “TheBella Swan?”

“The one and only.”

You catch the space of skin between her brows crease. “Interesting. In a room crowded with wolves, I sensed her above them all.”

“What do you mean?”

Evita pauses for a few breaths to mull her words over in her head. “Hmmm, I should I put this. . . People, whether they be human or something else all have an aura. In the state that overcomes me when I’m performing my craft, my ability to see them intensifies. And you said Edward had never been able to read her thoughts?”

Affirmatively you nod wondering what this was leading to.

“That kind of aura,well, many magic welders have one just like her’s.”

“You’re saying Bella is a witch?”

“She’d have to practice at it, but yes she does have the capability of being a witch.” Her drink depleted, Evita sets it down next to one of the legs of the deck chair. Fixedly she looks at you, shooting you unspoken words that you read loud and clear.

Pursing your lips, you lean back against the stair rail. “Can she learn fast?”

“Normally I would say no.” Admits Evita. “But it’s not that often a human is naturally immune to a vampire’s power.” Her fingers tighten around a small jar that hung off her neck, caged in silver wire and strung with rope. You remember her making it. It protected her thoughts from Edward and other prying minds. She'd made it when she found out Edward could read everyone's thoughts except for Bella's and now your own.

Letting out a small sigh, Evita picks her mug back up and stands. You follow suit. "I need to get my strength back as soon as possible." She taps the mug. "This tea helps. I've already had three cups of it."

"Is there anything the pack can do in the meantime?" You ask her.

Evita's face glows and with her free hand, she holds your hand for a moment. "Spend time with your vampire now that you have him. Take this opportunity to bond before chaos ensues."

While she had spoken lightly as it was meant to cheer you, you couldn't help the shadow of worry cast over you at her last words. Foreboding of times to come.

Evita was to wait for her friend to arrive before she even entertained the idea of training Bella. She was no teacher and wouldn't even know where to begin with such a daunting task. She said his name was Dieufel and he was older than Letizia by three years. Still relatively young, but Dieufel was extremely talented and had traveled around the world to gain knowledge of all the known magicks out there. Dieufel called Haiti his home and had been there the last time Evita heard from him. That was a while ago.

While Dieufel wasn't the only magic wielder Evita knew, she was much more familiar with him since Letizia had gone on a few trips with him through the years of their acquaintanceship. "After yesterday though, I realize we'll need more people on deck to make the other wards."

“We’ll get them. Carlisle and Jasper are already on the road to get more vampires on our side.” You assure her. “And Edward texted me this morning that Alice also left last night too.”

“I hope they find success.” Evita smiles.

You left so Evita could get more rest and head back down the road. When you got home, you planned on suggesting a day for your date. Even thinking about it made you smile like a fool. While you wished you could go out on your first date right then and there, you couldn’t. You had to finish your summer school work before you academically fail even more. Not even werewolves could escape school.

Passing by the Black house, you notice Bella’s car pulling into the gravel driveway. This was the most you’d ever seen of Bella. Even when the vampires and wolves had been training together.

She hops out of the driver’s side and waves to you.

You wave back and anxiously eye Jacob’s garage where he always was when wolf duties didn’t pull him away.

Did Jacob tell her about imprinting on Evita? You wish you’d gone to check on him first before Evita. Internally you curse yourself for being a bad friend.

“You and Jake hanging out today?” You ask her, doing your best to be polite.

“Actually I wanted to see how Evita was doing.” She rubs anxiously at her arm despite the weather not being chilly at all. “Yesterday was really intense.”

“I think Evita would appreciate it.” You smile. Would Bella be happy about potentially being a witch? It could be a burden for her, something else to remind her of how her life has been tossed around by the world Edward and you live in. She would never have been privy to it prior to her life in Forks. There had been no fear of actual vampires walking on the same streets she walked. “I just came back from there. I think she wanted to talk to you too.”

Relief smoothed out the nervous lines on her face and she really smiles.

It was unwise though for Jacob to be anywhere near Evita right now. Evita didn’t need another situation on her plate.

You open your mouth, prepared to offer to take her to Sam’s yourself, when Jacob pops out of the garage with his house keys in his hands. He froze when he finds you there standing right next to Bella. Being friends for over a decade, you knew each of Jacob’s facial expressions and what they meant. His was one of guilt. You didn’t want to admonish him in front of Bella in case he hadn’t told her yet. But you definitely didn’t want him to go to Sam’s, especially if the alpha wasn’t their to monitor him and Evita.

“You guys might have to postpone your visit though. Evita’s still pretty tired and was going back to sleep when I left.” You smoothly explain, regretting the lie when you saw Bella’s look of disappointment.

“Oh, okay. Guess we’ll do a rain check.” Bella nonetheless smiles at you and is about to go back to her car when Jacob cut in.

“It’ll only be for a few minutes.”

Uh oh. You were wondering when his adolescent wolf brain would kick in. “She was pretty exhausted Jake. Plus Sam’s not there right now.”

You were getting in the way of him and his mate and his stupid testosterone was making him act irrationally.

Jacob’s jaw ticked.

Overly aware of Bella being so close to him, you slowly side step closer to her in case he did explode. She didn’t know what was going on; why Jacob had suddenly turned feral.

“She’s okay Jake.” You don’t pull your eyes away from his. “Everything’s fine. Let her sleep. It’s no use going if she’s sleeping.”

You nudge Bella’s arm, indicating for her to shift behind you and start to slowly move to her car.

Don’t do anything stupid you idiot. You think to yourself, unable to shout it at him through pack telepathy.

“(y/n). . .” Bella whispers at your back. “What’s wrong with him?”

“Nothing’s wrong with him.” Well, if he wasn’t going to tell her now then you’d have to. “He’s just imprinted on Evita is all and is acting like a stupid male wolf.”

You saying it out loud snapped him of whatever stupor he had so quickly plummeted in.

“On Evita?” Bella breathes out shakily.

“Yes. And he’s acting irrationally because he doesn’t know how to deal with it.” You were tired of keeping the poor human in the dark. “Because he always wanted to imprint on you, Bella. But we don’t get the choice in that and we have to live with it and accommodate.”

Bella addresses Jacob “Is that why you didn’t tell me sooner? How long have you known?”

He glares at you for revealing everything to Bella when he wasn't ready. "Since the first day she got here."

"She doesn't know yet. It's best for her right now to focus on getting the wards up for protection. She doesn't need this imprinting mess impeding on her work." You remind him. "If you act like this in front of her, she'll definitely know something's up. So it's best if Jacob just stays away for the time being."

Now Bella knew Jacob had used her just to see Evita.

Chancing turning away from Jacob, you say to Bella in a softer tone "Evita really does want to meet you though. She said. . . She said you might be helpful to her."

The hurt on her face stalled for a moment. "Really?"

You nod. "If you feel like you need a wolf chaperone to go to Sam's, then I'd be happy to accompany you next time." While Bella hadn't shown any romantic attachment to Jacob (that you'd seen at least), you knew it might hurt losing another close person to imprinting.

You'd give her credit though as she took a deep breath and nods. "Thanks (y/n). I think I'll just go home for now. But can you call me tomorrow if Evita is ready?"

"Of course."

You and Jacob watch as she hastily drove off. Immediately Jacob verbally tore into you. Condemning you for telling her something that wasn't for you to tell. The news of his imprinting was something he should have announced when he was ready. But it was clear keeping this from Bella was the wrong choice. And you used that fact to snap back. He'd been the one who was inconsiderate to Bella's feelings. Of course this would be tough to tell her regardless.

By the end of it, both of you were trembling, your wolf threatening to come to the surface and snap actual deadly teeth against someone who had been one of your closest friends. For fear of an actual fight breaking out, you storm off to your house even though you wanted to go back and tussle with Jacob. You remind yourself how you were when you first imprinted on Edward. Such a confusing time but you'd found isolation the best way to come to terms with your new reality. Perhaps that was what Jacob needed too.

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[foxblood]

The Threads of Memory: II In Case of Rain

Chapters: 1/2/3/4/5/6/7/8/9/10/11/12/13/14/15/16/17/18/19/20/21/22/23/24/25

The bronze guise of Silvanus reached an arm across the marble arch for Meilikki, and she on the other end of the pillar pulled her bowstring taut and aimed an arrow at his heart wreathed in oak leaves.  The plaque above their heads announced “University of Waterdeep Botanic Gardens”.  An old couple sat on the benches beneath the gate, shoulders close together behind the half-sodden pages of the Waterdeep Digest.  Beyond them, the manicured meadow entry and gardens beyond swayed red and gold against the mist that settled heavily over the Castle Wards as it blew in from the ocean.  Gale took his place on the vacant bench beneath the entrance and pulled his robes tighter around him as the damp worked its way through the wool.

He crossed his ankles and dug a pamphlet out of his pocket.  The pages felt thick and sluggish in the humidity when he turned them, the cover advertising the 10th release of the Journal of the Netheril Archaeological Society.  After each line of self-important text, he glanced at the entrance until Velim appeared on the path and stood up to greet them, retaining nothing from the pamphlet.

Velim looked both ways as they crossed under the entryway as though they thought someone may be lurking at the corners, then pulled off their hood and smoothed the neat braid behind their head.  A shy smile crossed their face, but they buried their hands in the pockets of their coat.  

“Sorry I’m late,” Velim nodded into the meadow so that Gale fell into step beside them, “not really my neighborhood.”

“That just puts us back on even footing,” Gale smiled back to put them at ease.

“Yes, well, it’s my own fault for leaving on time.  I should have prepared to get lost,” they pulled a gloved hand out of their pocket to run their finger over the water condensing on the arched railing of a bridge crossing a creek.

“I didn’t take you for one to lose your way.” Gale inhaled the wet autumn day as they stepped onto a path between the trees covered in the leaves falling gold from the ginkgo trees above them.

Velim’s eyes turned toward the canopy.  “I contain multitudes, including a chronic inability to read maps.”

Gale offered his hand as they climbed a steep stone staircase, but Velim kept their hands in their pockets and he pulled it away.  “You must travel with a companion, then?”

They shook their head.  “I find my way regardless.  Would you like some lunch?  My treat.”

“That’s not necessary,” Gale said.

“Nonsense, let me buy you lunch.  I just got the advance for my next publication, something to work the chill out of my hands is hardly going to break my finances, and I was late this time,” Velim insisted.

“Is that so?  Which publication?” Gale asked, “something grand?”

“Not my contribution,” their fingers brushed the fine hairs on the underside of a cherry-red leaf and read the stone with the name of the plant engraved upon it, sanddusk creeper, “but the copper etched illustrations, well, those are quite grand.  It’s a textbook documenting the physiological impacts of magic mediated illness.”

The memory of a wizard Gale once knew flashed before his eyes, the skin of his face melting due to a backfiring healing spell intended to clear his acne.  “Are you an expert in such things?”

“No,” they paused and looked over the side of the pond where bright orange fish swarmed at the banks, begging them for food, “well, perhaps I am now.  I was selected as the ghost writer, each article is informed by the true experts of the individual ailments.  The only magical ailment I’m intimately familiar with is invoked hyperplasia.”

“Because the only intervention is surgical, yes, I have no doubt you would be,” his face tightened with concern, the memory of his school friend stuck in his mind, “a terrible condition indeed.”

“People have difficulty wrapping their mind around healing invocations,” Velim began, each word considered before being voiced, “they see a wound close, and believe they’re seeing some process reverse bodily damage when the truth of the matter is that the invocation is a calling forth of cellular regeneration.  A less-than-precise use of such a spell leads the body into devouring itself to feed whatever retains a splinter of the invocation,” they sighed, “forgive me, I see it so often that I find its continued prevalence exhausting.  Were you ever a student here?”

“I spent a great deal of time as a joint researcher between the archaeology department and the Blackstaff Research Institute, but, no, I was always destined for Blackstaff’s program.  In fact, an old colleague of mine in the archaeology department was the first person to show me this,” he gestured to the turning leaves above them, catching the mist and releasing it as heavy droplets, “I’m sure she’s industrious as ever in Baldur’s Gate, but I do miss her.  She makes a brilliant collaborator.”

“Always a shame when a great researcher moves out of reach,” Velim looked above them and watched droplets slide off a dome of magic above themself and Gale.  When had he cast that spell?  Now that they were paying attention, they could feel the threads leading back to him.  Effortless.  A small voice in the back of their mind wondered if he might teach them such a thing, “you’re quite skilled.”

Gale followed their gaze to the shield above them as the rain finally reached them from the sea in a soft patter on the leaves.  “What, that trick?”

Velim couldn’t cast a shield spell with that ease -- not at all.  They had tried and splashed their apartment with acid.  “I didn’t see you cast it.”

“Are you at all familiar with the Arts?” Gale asked, admiring his own work as other walkers on the path scrambled for cover in the steadily intensifying rain.

Velim considered their answer, letting the pause drag on almost too long before responding.  “I learned only what kept me from discharging magic accidentally.”

Gale’s eyebrows rose.  “A sorcerer?”

They shoved their hands into their pockets again.  “Yes, but I couldn’t tell you from what source.”

A flush rose to Gale’s cheeks, turning them redder than the flush that cold already brought to his face.  “My apologies, I don’t mean to suggest -- well, I’ve met many sorcerers with less intellectual acumen, if you’d allow me a modicum of judgment.”

Velim smirked at him, but their hands remained firmly in their pockets.  “The best of us don’t attend arcane academies.”  Including themself in that number felt wrong, but Gale was too distracted by his own embarrassment to notice the bitterness in their expression was directed at themself.

“Neither of your parents were gifted?” Gale recovered.  The shield above them never wavered.

“I can’t say, I don’t know them.” Velim waited for Gale to press further.

Gale shuffled his feet through the fallen leaves.  “I see.  I’m sorry for your loss.  I lost my father before I could remember, myself.  Do you mind if I ask how it happened?”

The time he wasted on apologies gave Velim time to set the pieces of their story in order.  “I’m not sure if they’re dead,” they watched Gale’s face change in surprise, “I fell from the roof of a building when I was 14, took on a severe head trauma.  I can’t recall anything before waking up in a surgery in the middle of a quarantine for fever.  I couldn’t leave, and I had no way to tell anyone who I was or where I came from, so I began my apprenticeship as a surgeon as soon as I had hands that worked.”

“And they never came looking for you?” Gale pressed.

Velim shrugged, unwilling to twist any more of their past into something fit for consumption.  “When you were working on that joint committee with your colleague, were you looking to investigate that site you mentioned in the Silver Marches?  The one involved with the Ortenkus story?”

“The project was intended to map the annual travels of each known enclave in Netheril based on historical accounts and traces of weave modified by the passage of the mythallars.  No time for old Ortenkus, I’m afraid,” he turned, the grin of a teacher about to drop some semi-secret knowledge on his student forming at the corners of his mouth, “The towns that dot the Silver Marches now, you know they follow the paths of weave left by the mythallars?  The very roads of northern Faerun follow those ancient cities.”

Velim returned his smile.  “I did not know that.  Did the mythallars raise the earth out of the swamp, or is there something further at play there?  It seemed nigh-impassable to me.”

“Unfortunately not,” Gale trailed off when he noticed Velim wasn’t looking at him anymore, their gaze following a pair of arguing voices obscured by foliage, “probably just a lover’s spat.”

Velim cocked their head to one side.  “Probably,” they echoed.

“Are you worried about someone seeing us together?” Gale’s voice dropped, hoping the worry that the time they spent together may be complicated by their inescapable pasts came out as concern for their well-being.

They shook their head.  “No, not at all,” and turned to him, “just an old habit.  Few folks like seeing a Vulture in their village.  You learn to watch for people about to make a bad decision.”

Gale’s posture loosened.  “I see, and those two are about to make a poor decision, in your estimations?”

Velim glanced through the trees, trying to catch a glimpse of the arguing pair.  “Maybe.  Shall we find somewhere dry for lunch?”

“Sounds like a fine idea, this way.” Gale led them down a path that cut between the trunks of two thick maples twined together through some feat of magic or botany.

Velim hesitated at the path’s start, but jogged to catch up before Gale noticed the delay and they got caught in the rain without the shield spell for an umbrella.

“I have something to ask you, and you may feel that it’s coming on a bit strong, but I assure you that my intentions are purely platonic,” Gale waited for Velim to match his stride before continuing, “do you have plans for Liar’s Night this year?”

“None I couldn’t be persuaded to change, though I will be walking with the rest of the Vultures in the parade,” the path narrowed and Velim bumped Gale with their shoulder, “Are you in need of a plus-one for a party of preeminent citizens?”

“No -- well, yes.  Blackstaff Tower holds a Liar’s Masquerade annually.  Normally I would attend alone, but with my extended absence I thought I might benefit from some company this year.  Of course, if you aren’t comfortable with such a thing you need only say the word and I will not mention it again.”  Gale leaned into their weight, following Velim when the path widened again and they pulled away.

Velim kicked through a pile of wet leaves before responding.  “I find it difficult to believe you’ve never taken a guest.”

“Well, I was never alone, I simply arrived alone,” Gale waved the notion off, but his face grew redder, “I once had a full dance card.  It’s only that after a full year of absence, the things that once were easy are no longer.”

“I’d be happy to accompany you, of course,” Velim assured him, “you’ve never brought a date?  Truly?”

“Not for any lack of experience.” He pulled the collar of his coat up.

“Happy to be your first, then,” Velim shot him a crooked smile that sent feathers fluttering through his stomach, their teeth sharper in the expression, “I’m sure I’ll make some poor soul terribly jealous.  Should we plan to match, or let the cards fall where they may in terms of dress?”

Gale feigned a cough to keep his voice from cracking.  “No time to draft up something new, we may as well don the costumes of yesteryear.  I expected more resistance to the idea.”

“Oh, no, I adore a masked party,” Velim buried their hands deeper in their pockets, but their step skipped ahead and stretched the shield that now carried them both beneath a curtain of rain, “They make for good people watching.  I only warn you that I can’t dance.”

“I’m not exactly in the practice of it myself,” Gale ran a hand through his hair and breathed in the smell of wet earth as they approached a covered walkway with scattered food carts meant to feed the students and staff of the university, “I’ll survive a crushed toe or two, should we find ourselves in a dancing mood.  I wouldn’t have thought you the type for parties.”

“Then you thought right,” Velim admitted, walking ahead of him and into the cover of the walkway where the smell of cooking meat swelled beneath the roof, “but variety is the spice of life, is it not?  And I’ve never been to Blackstaff Tower, you might show me around.”

The rain continued falling over the botanical gardens long after both their bowls were empty and replaced in the bin of used dishes beside the noodle cart.  Velim leaned on the railing separating the walkway from the cobblestone paths of the garden and watched the rain slide off the roof in thick rivulets.  Gale leaned against the column beside them.

“Quite the day for a walk in the garden,” Velim glanced sideways at Gale, “I’m tempted to ask you to walk me home with that shield spell of yours.”

“I would be honored,” Gale said with a little bow, “shall we take the path through the trees?”

Velim watched Gale as they stepped out into the rain together, the deluge parting.  Gale glanced back at them back with a sly glint in his eye.  They didn’t notice so much as a twitch of his fingers, and realized he had never dropped his concentration.  

They came under cover of the trees, and Gale stumbled on the uneven path.  His knees buckled as the orb spasmed in his chest.  Velim caught his elbow, his weight dropping them both for a sickening second before Velim pulled him upright.  They searched his face for the ailment, noting the pinch of pain at his temples and corners of his eyes, one hand firm on his arm to hold him steady and the other bracing their shoulder against his weight.  Gale blinked hard, his mouth opening in silent apology.  Velim dragged him to a bench and sat him down.  The chilled rainwater soaking into his coat fought the tearing sensation radiating through his chest, the orb grasping frantically for Velim’s hand on his arm.  He pulled away.  

Velim sat on the bench beside him a few inches apart, hands back in their pockets.  They waited for his back to ease out of its tense arch, his hand massaging his chest as he sat back against the bench and let the chill slip over him as raindrops fell fat and heavy against his skin.  He spoke the word and circled his fingers in the air and the shield reappeared above them.

“Has this happened before?” Velim asked.

Gale took a deep breath, his lungs straining against the pressure of the orb.  “Yes, occasionally.  It’s no trouble, really, I’m sorry to bother you with it.”

“Rain check on walking me home,” Velim joked, their bedside manner slipping into place, “have you seen a doctor about it?”

“Yes,” the affirmative was always the correct answer, “nothing for it, I’m afraid.”

“How long do these episodes typically last?” Velim ran down their list of questions, filtering the ones that seemed too personal for a concerned exchange between friends, “and do you have something to take for them?”

“Not long,” Gale’s voice wavered, “but I’m afraid I do not have the medicine on my person.”

Velim searched his face for something and Gale thought with a jolt that they knew he was lying to them until they blinked and glanced at the mosaic of leaves dotting the path.

“Very well,” they conceded, “when you’re ready, allow me to hail you a cab.”

Gale thought to deny the offer, but he knew it was a command and not a request.  He dragged the last moments out, watching the rain cascading over the shield spell and turning the world into a watery smear of red and gold.  “Shall we?”

Gale stood up before Velim could offer their hand, so they kept their hands where they were and matched his slow pace.  Their footsteps were drowned out by the rain and puddles were beginning to form in the low points of the walkways.

“My apologies for cutting our time short,” Gale said once the pressure in his chest eased down to a flutter, “I did very much enjoy it.  Don’t think my outburst is in any way related to a lack of desire to see you home safely.  Please.”

“I also enjoyed it,” Velim assured him as they entered the courtyard at the entry, the dead stalks of wildflowers giving off the aroma of sodden hay, “and I imagine I’ll enjoy the Liar’s Masquerade just as much, but promise you’ll get some rest and see your doctor again before the event.”

“I promise.” The orb pulsed hotly around a tightening in his chest.

They arrived at the street and Velim flagged down a carriage.  They pulled up their hood and saw him safely inside the covered cab, then tried to offer the driver payment.

“No, no,” Gale pushed a few nibs into the driver’s open palm, “not after you bought lunch.”

Velim put their change back in their pockets.  “I’ll see you on Lair’s Night, Gale.”

“You will.  I promise you, you will.” Gale sat back in the cab as the driver kicked the horse into gear.  He massaged his chest, the faint black lines of the mark pulsing as molten metal beneath the surface of his skin all the way up to his eye where his vision blurred with each hard beat of his heart.

The shield spell vanished with Gale, and the rain resumed falling on the oiled leather of Velim’s duster in a way that pressed the cold into their skin through the waxed seams.  They waited for the carriage to turn out of sight to begin walking, scolding themself for offering to let Gale walk them home in the first place.  A foolish idea, and something they should never have considered extending to someone who knew them not at all.

Without the shield, the cold crept into their shirt and pulled the scars on their chest taut.  They rubbed along the line of them, from sternum to clavicle on each side, smoothing the scales and soothing the prickling scar tissue beneath.  Their shoulder ached where the muscles had strained against Gale’s weight.

[hetalianskywalker]

Day 11: To Swim With A Siren

Pairing: Siren Waxer x Pirate Reader

Summary: Your siren boyfriend asks you to come for a swim.

Author’s Note: Commander Cody is definitely grumbling about having a credit for each time one of his men fell in love with a pirate. And while he would only have two credits, it’s weird it happened twice. 😂

Warnings: Sirens drowning people like in old folklore is mentioned. I think that is it.

Word Count: 869

Prompt: “It’s sweltering today,” the mermaid/man said, fins creating a little wake in the water as they swished back and forth along the side of the ship. “The sun must really beat down up there. Especially when you’re at the helm steering all day.”

The pirate propped one boot heavily atop the bulkhead, leaning one elbow on their knee to peer over the edge and into the siren’s sea foam eyes. “You know if you want me to go swimming with you, you really need to confirm whether or not you plan to drown me.”

Short Prompt # 19 by thepenultimateword

You know today is going to be a good day when you hear soft singing in the morning. It stops as you get out of bed. Quickly, you turn to look out your port hole to catch the last wisp of an orange and white fin.

You race for the deck and lean over the railing, but you're surprised to see he’s not there. You frown down at the water. You couldn’t have imagined that right?

“Waxer?” You call out at the open sea. Oh your crew is definitely going to tease you later. You are so head over heels you were losing your damn mind. You groan, pinching the bridge of your nose.

“Everything alright love?” You blink before being met with the bright smile of your siren. The sharp teeth and claws don’t phase you as you arch a playful eyebrow down at him.

“Fine, now. Where were you?”

“Making sure your crew don’t bother us for a little while.” Waxer smiles sheepishly up at you. You had been so excited to see him that you now notice how eerily quiet it was for this late in the morning.

“Waxer…” You say, with a mix of a groan and a laugh.

“Most of your men wanted to sleep anyway so it was just a gentle nudge. I think you’ve been overworking them on the last few heists.” You immediately roll your eyes; more like your men had a bit too much to drink last night.

“Speaking of overworking, how is General Kenobi?” You had met the sarcastic Jedi General after getting screwed over in a deal with Hondo Ohnaka; specifically, the other pirate captain had left you to deal with Republic fallout. Thankfully, Grievous had decided to try and attack Kenobi again. After fighting your way out, you kept running into the 212th on the high seas. The Jedi always looked more tired every time you saw him, but he oddly seemed fairly happy to see whenever you crossed paths. You burst out laughing when Waxer told you it was partly because he was thankful to get a break from Hondo.

“He’s…” Waxer frowns for a second. “He’s doing okay. The war is taking its toll on everyone.” You are both silent for a long moment then it finally dawns on you: why the kriff was he alone out here?

“So where is he and the 212th?” You tease, trying to lighten the mood. “Boil is going to rant at both of us if you snuck off.” He laughs softly and points to a speck in the distance.

“I got permission. Don’t worry.” He grins up at you. “But Boil is probably going to rant at us either way.”

“He really doesn’t like me huh?” The other Mer clone couldn’t seem to stand you, but you knew he was just being protective of his brother.

“Not at all.” Waxer laughs; his tail happily flicking around in the water. You close your eyes a second and savor that sound. Sadly, all good things must come to an end.

“As much as I want to flirt with you the whole day, you mind waking up my crew?”

“As you wish.” You watch him vanish under the water before as soft song hits the air.

Your crew knew immediately who was lurking in the water when they saw how good of a mood you were in. You would pay for it tonight though when they all called you lovesick.

For a few hours, Waxer remains out of sight with only the occasional melody to remind you he’s still around. You stand at the helm steering the ship in the hot sun and the heat just continues to climb as time passes. Eventually, you pass the job off to your first mate for a breather.

“It’s sweltering today,” Waxer said, orange and white fins creating a little wake in the water as they swish back and forth along the side of the ship. “The sun must really beat down up there. Especially when you’re at the helm steering all day.”

You prop one boot heavily atop the bulkhead, leaning one elbow on your knee to peer over the edge and into the siren’s brown eyes.

“You know if you want me to go swimming with you, you really need to confirm whether or not you plan to drown me.” You tease, knowing full well Waxer is one of the kindest souls you know. You trust he would never do that to you.

“Now why would I drown my future riduur?” The truthfulness makes your face immediately heat up.

“You win.” You set your hat, jacket, and boots to the side before diving into the water. Waxer immediately wraps you in a hug with his tail twisting around you when you breach the surface. You joyfully laugh, resting your arms around his neck.

“I missed you, Waxer.” You lean your forehead against his.

“I missed you, too.” He then grins playfully up at you. “Let’s have some fun before my ride gets here hm?” He pulls you in for a soft kiss, blocking out the world. As the Negotiator got closer, you and Waxer were going to make your time together count.

[luckyluan]

THE KING’S SPATULA, CON'T

FEB 20, 2024 - 11:05pm 

Cordelia’s mind swam with slippery voices. Eerie lines of melodious interest wafted through her thoughts and licked at her yearnings. Standing on the crimson dais, she was engulfed by murmurs of inclusion—willing The High Order to accept her—but she fought back.  

Cordelia’s arm felt as if it was moving against a tidal wave as the unbroken current of gleaming electricity saturated the artifact and her being. She ground her teeth as she brought her single gloved hand down on the hilt of the trident. The lightning suddenly evaporated. The dark, echoing silence contained the hum of chatter. Confused museum goers began to whisper as they groped around in the encroaching darkness. 

Cordelia knew she only had about a minute left before the emergency lights and sirens ruined her plan and she had not accounted for the mystic reaction she would have by touching the trident—The King’s Spatula, as she called it—with her bare hands. She touched her earpiece hoping to hear Kima smacking her favorite snack, but all she heard was static. She was on her own. 

The museum gallery was, suddenly, filled with pulsating red lights which illuminated the grand hall in ebbing surges; and a single gasp from an onlooker told her it was time to go.  

“Kima, you there?” Cordelia asked. 

She hopped back over the railing and into the crowd. The museum patrons skittered away from her just as the screech of the sirens reached her ears. She had twenty seconds to escape or the solid steel grilles dangling above the arch entrances of the museum would make the most ornate cage for an unwilling participant. 

“--On, lady! I...hear...words...fuck outta...so long?” Kima shouted. 

Her voice came through her earbud over waves of crunchy static. Cordelia searched for the fastest exit and settled for the back entrances. 

“...left, bitch! Go left.” Kima commanded. 

Cordelia turned on her heel and trudged toward the front door at a run. She was light on her feet and easy to miss at a height of five feet, two inches. She kept her hood low over her head with the trident dormant in her gloved hand. 

“Stop that girl!” The security guard shouted. 

Her heart fluttered as the familiar shuffle of boots mobilized on her direction.  

“She’s right there.” a voice called. 

“Fuck whoever snitch ass that was.” Kima said in her ear. 

“Thank God. I can hear you.” Cordelia sighed. 

“Be thankful for my beautiful voice later.” Kima responded. “Just stash the thingy and get the fuck outta there!” 

“How?!” Cordelia whispered. 

“Get creative!” Kima yelled. 

Cordelia looked around. People were gawking and pointing with their cellphones raised. She was about to be caught but she was certain to bump into as many people as possible as she barreled through the crowd. Cordelia chose her mark carefully. It had to be someone she could follow and finesse. Her eyes locked on a tall man in a purple paisley sweater whose backpack lay open as he bent down to tie his shoe. 

“I see him.” she murmured. 

Cordelia hurried toward him and launched her body at him. She knocked him off his feet and they tumbled to the ground in a mess of tools and art supplies.  

“Fuck! Watch where you’re going, thief!” He shouted. 

He shoved his belongings back into his back and scurried away from her. Cordelia muttered an apology as she bounded to her feet and slid under the lowering grille of the front door. She flung the door open and dashed down the sidewalk in the bright summer light of Morgan, Louisiana.  

“Did you do it?” Kima asked. 

“Yeah,” Cordelia huffed. “Fool never saw me coming.” 

“...You took his wallet, didn’t you?” Kima surmised. 

“Ha! Lunch is on me, Kima!” 

[a-panacake]

FOQ MEETINF SENDA IS SO CUTEEEE AHHH SENDA IS SO DARLING

[bbcmerlinvault]

[Article] "King of the castle"

by Michelle Griffin for The Sydney Morning Herald website on 21st May 2011 at 3:00 am. The majority of the article covers travel to Pierrefonds while the filming wasn't about, but there is a decent mention of the show so I've decided to pop it in the vault. It's also worth noting that due to this article now being over a decade old, the pricing listed at the end is out of date (at time of posting this, the Chateau de Pierrefonds website lists entry now at €9 rather than €7 and a concessions price doesn't appear to exist any more).

[Original source] (paywalled)

King of the castle

5–7 minutes

The towers of Chateau de Pierrefonds.Credit: AFP

Michelle Griffin joins a legion of Camelot fans beneath the fairytale towers of Chateau de Pierrefonds.

Many castles lay claim to being the original Camelot. The latest home of King Arthur's magical kingdom lies about 90 minutes north-east of Paris, in a glorious stone folly called Chateau de Pierrefonds.

For three months of the year, this imposing grey-stone pile is the location of the BBC series Merlin, which revamps the Arthurian legends as an awkward friendship between arrogant Prince Arthur and his teenage manservant, Merlin, who must keep his magical talents a secret. If, like the program, this castle is not exactly faithful to its mediaeval origins, it hardly matters to the fans who watch the camera crews re-enact battles, jousts and feasts for the fourth series.

They're not filming when my family and I decide to make a pilgrimage to the site of one of our favourite shows. But even without the catering vans blocking the archways and production teams roping off the staterooms, this mad 19th-century vision of the ideal mediaeval castle turns out to be a terrific day trip from the French capital.

"It truly is like the seventh or eighth character on the cast list," actor Anthony Head, who plays cruel King Uther, told website Monsters and Critics. "The stones still look new even though it's a few hundred years old ... It's not like a castle that's got bits missing and chunks taken out of it."

Looming above a tiny village in the Oise district, this restored mediaeval stronghold was one of France's favourite romantic ruins long before Napoleon III started rebuilding it in 1857. Cardinal Richelieu ordered its demolition in 1617, after the nobles within backed the wrong duke.

It's the remaining 14th-century twin towers that take our breath away as we walk up the steep hill to the entrance - especially "Charlemagne's tower", a round donjon with a peaked roof that local wisdom says is the inspiration for Walt Disney's Sleeping Beauty.

There has been a castle on this site since the 12th century. It's a strategic location, because invading armies have always marched down the Oise Valley. Julius Caesar fought the Gauls in this region. Joan of Arc fought the English in the surrounding forests and prayed unsuccessfully for victory in the church at nearby Compiegne. On the outskirts of Compiegne, a memorial stands on the abandoned rail line where the armistice was signed on November 11, 1918. In 1940, Hitler made the French sign on his terms in the same rail carriage, which was then destroyed in Berlin.

Eugene Viollet-le-Duc, the architect appointed by Napoleon III in 1857 to restore Pierrefonds, did far more than rebuild the ruined towers and the outer walls. Like the cathedral of Notre Dame, this castle was re-created as a 19th-century dream of the Middle Ages - a riot of gargoyles and arches and long, airy galleries with camera-ready sight lines. Steel girders prop soaring roofs, and walls are painted in intertwined stencils. Viollet-le-Duc died before the job was done and the money ran out when Napoleon III was deposed in 1870 but Pierrefonds still feels ready for its next royal.

A few huts - remnants of Merlin's lower village locations - line the walkway to the moat. The jousts are filmed on a green sward overlooking the valley. Through the enormous arched gateway, with its satisfyingly fierce portcullis, we discover a central courtyard that reminds us not only of the TV series but every Arthurian book illustration. A wide, sun-bleached staircase is fronted by a bronze knight and guarded by snarling griffins. Downspouts have been carved into lizards. A long walkway is decorated with earnest stone knights and demented gargoyles - screaming monkeys, vomiting dragons and a loony five-breasted monster, its jaw unhinged to poke out its curling tongue. This is where Uther and Arthur walk and talk about how best to repel the series' latest invasions. The draughty stateroom on the first floor of the main building hosts art exhibitions but is also the TV location for countless courtly confrontations before the throne.

Climbing the stairs to half-decorated chambers and echoing arched corridors is tremendous fun for anyone who ever read childhood novels about being transported back in time - it speaks as much of Rapunzel or Narnia as Camelot. Every time we lean out a window, flocks of pigeons take off in loops above the castle roofs. Our one regret is that we cannot climb to the very top and peer out between the Lego blocks of the battlements.

FAST FACTS

Getting there

Emirates has a fare to Paris for about $2070 low-season return from Melbourne and Sydney, including tax. You fly to Dubai (14hr), then Paris (7hr 30min).

To get to Chateau de Pierrefonds from Paris by car take the A1 motorway, or go by train to Compiegne, followed by a 20-minute, €20 ($26.60) taxi ride to Pierrefonds; voyages-sncf.com. A bus runs to Pierrefonds from Compiegne twice a day; oise-mobilite.fr.

Visiting there

Chateau de Pierrefonds is open daily from 9.30am to 6pm until September 4 and from 10am-1pm and 2-5.30pm Tuesday to Sunday from September 5 to April 30. Entry is €7, concession €4.50, under 18 free; pierrefonds.monuments-nationaux.fr/en.

[equestrianempire]

Aaron Vale & Carissimo 25 Conquer the Contest in the $62,500 LeMieux Qualifier CSI 4*

Ocala, Florida, USA – March 07, 2024 – It was an evening of excitement at World Equestrian Center – Ocala (WEC) on Thursday, March 7, 2024, for the $62,500 LeMieux Grand Prix Qualifier CSI 4*. From the impressive field of thirty horse-and-rider combinations representing 10 nations, it was hometown hero Aaron Vale (USA) who galloped to victory aboard Carissimo 25.

Gregory Bodo (FRA) and Pieter Vitse (BEL) designed the challenging course in the WEC Grand Arena, which saw 10 talented duos jump fault-free and advance to the jump-off. Fourth to return, Vale guided Carissimo 25, an 11-year-old Holsteiner gelding (Cascadello x Clinton) owned by Debbie Smith, to a lightning-fast clear performance in 38.84 seconds. Ultimately, Vale could not be caught, claiming his second international win in as many weeks, having also won the $100,000 MARS Equestrian Grand Prix CSI3* during the 2024 Winter Spectacular Show Series Week IX.

Out of the starting field, an even 10 combinations successfully navigated the challenges of the first round, earning the opportunity to return to the jump-off. Ultimately, only four managed to achieve a double clear effort.

Trailblazing the jump-off, Gabriela Reutter (CHI) and Lumiere Horses Inc.’s Castle OJ delivered an impressive clear round, setting the time to beat at a swift 40.68 seconds.

Sean Jobin (CAN) & Coquelicot VH Heuvelland Z

Canadian rider Sean Jobin elevated the competition aboard the stylish 12-year-old Zangersheide gelding Coquelicot Vh Heuvelland Z (Catoki x Cassini II), clocking in at 40.50 seconds and shaving a tenth of a second off the leading time.

Aaron Vale (USA) & Carissimo

Returning fourth in the order, Aaron Vale and Carissimo 25 (Cascadello x Clinton) aimed to secure the lead. “I knew from one to two I could get eight with his ability. Eight to the double was almost too slow for him. The seven to the liverpool was slow and patient feeling. Then I was quick and efficient everywhere else.” 

Vale and the 11-year-old Holsteiner gelding crossed the timers in an impressive 38.84 seconds, securing a time that proved unbeatable.

“Down the road, to be number one in the world, I think I am going to have to find a few more strides to take out,” laughed Vale. “Tonight was about the plan, we stuck to it, and I couldn’t be more thrilled.” 

Vale has been selected to compete on the USA Team for the Longines League of Nations™ and is excited to compete for his nation on home turf, “I am really looking forward to it. It was a lot of fun to compete in Abu Dhabi and I think it will be even more fun here,” he continued. “I almost feel like there is more pressure this week because I feel like I can’t make a mistake. During [Longines League of Nations™] you know it’s going to be hard so if you get a rail, it’s understandable, but this week I feel like I have to perfect. So far, it’s going pretty good.” 

Callie Schott (USA) & Garant

Callie Schott (USA) and Southern Arches’ Garant (Warrant x Verdi Tn) clinched the final double-clear ride with a swift pace. Schott and the 13-year-old KWPN gelding completed the course in 39.87 seconds, just one second short of the winning time.

Callie Schott (USA) and Garant, a 13-year-old KWPN gelding (Warrant x Verdi TN) owned by Southern Arches, LLC, came the closest to matching Vale’s time, stopping the clock in 39.87 seconds for second place. Canadian rider Sean Jobin (CAN) completed the top three with Coquelicot vh Heuvelland Z, a 12-year-old Zangersheide gelding (Catoki x Cassini II), in 40.50 seconds.

Aaron Vale (USA) & Carissimo 25

Final Results – $62,500 LeMieux Grand Prix Qualifier CSI 4*

1) Aaron Vale (USA) & Carissimo 25: 2013 Holsteiner gelding by Cascadello x Clinton, Debbie Smith: 0 / 0 / 38.84

2) Callie Schott (USA) & Garant: 2011 KWPN gelding by Warrant x Verdi Tn, Southern Arches, LLC: 0 / 0 / 39.87

3) Sean Jobin (CAN) & Coquelicot VH Heuvelland Z: 2012 Zangersheide gelding by Catoki x Cassini II, Foxridge Farms Stables: 0 / 0 / 40.50

4) Gabriela Reutter (CHI) & Castle OJ: 2013 Irish Sport Horse gelding by Sligo Candy Boy x High Roller, Lumiere Horses Inc.: 0 / 0 / 40.68

5) Rodrigo Pessoa (BRA) & Dhalida: 2014 Zangersheide mare by Diamant De Semilly x Calvaro Z , Artemis Equestrian Farm LLC: 0 / 4 / 39.79

6) Amy Millar (CAN) & Truman: 2009 Selle Francais gelding by Mylord Carthago*hn x Kolibri, Millar Brooke Farm: 0 / 4 / 41.81

7)Daniel Coyle (IRL) & Farrel: 2010 KPWN gelding by Cardento 933 x Stakkato , Ariel Grange: 0 / 4 / 42.32

8) Tiffany Foster (CAN) & Electrique: 2014 Zangersheide mare by Emerald x Voltaire, Cox: 0 / 9 / 56.37

9) Andre Thieme (GER) & Paule S: 2014 Oldenburg gelding by Perigueux x Sir Shutterfly, Andre Thieme: 0 / RT

9) Andre Thieme (GER) & DSP Chakaria: 2010 German Sport Horse mare by Chap 47 x Askari 173, Andre Thieme: 0 / WD

11) Lucy Davis (USA) & Ben 431: 2011 Westphalian gelding by Sylvain x Quincy Jones, Old Oak Group: 4 / 71.01

12) Quentin Judge (USA) HH Medarco PS: 2014 Oldenburg stallion by Messenger x Darco, Double H Farm + The Creel Family: 4 / 71.86

Source: Press Release from World Equestrian Center

Photo: © WEC / Andrew Ryback Photography

Related

Categories: CSI 4*, English, Jumper News USA

Tagged as: Aaron Vale, Callie Schott, Carissimo 25, Coquelicot VH Heuvelland Z, CSI 4*, Equestrian, Garant, Horses, Jumper News, Jumper News USA, Results, Sean Jobin, Showjumping, United States Equestrian Federation, US Equestrian, USEF, WEC, WEC – Ocala, World Equestrian Center, World Equestrian Center – Ocala

[gloriabomfim]

Part 2: Spookie Scares Cats (1-9 Montages with Titles, Actions, and Dialogues Transcript)

Montage 1: "Kitten Capers"

Title: Kitten Capers

[Scene: Spookie approaches a backyard where a litter of curious kittens plays.]

Spookie (whispering): (gleefully) Time to add some mystery to their playtime.

[Spookie suddenly appears with her scary mask on. The kittens jump and scatter, their tails puffed up.]

Kittens (startled): Meow! Meow!

Montage 2: "Prowling in the Garden"

Title: Prowling in the Garden

[Scene: Spookie hides behind a bush in a garden as a tabby cat prowls nearby.]

Spookie (whispering): (playfully) Let's give this feline friend a surprise.

[Spookie jumps out with her mask on. The tabby cat hisses and arches its back before darting away.]

Tabby Cat (hissing): Hiss! Hiss!

Montage 3: "Siamese Scare"

Title: Siamese Scare

[Scene: Spookie finds a Siamese cat resting on a sunlit porch.]

Spookie (whispering): (with a wicked grin) Let's stir up some mischief.

[Spookie suddenly reveals herself with her mask on. The Siamese cat yowls in surprise and leaps off the porch railing.]

Siamese Cat (yowling): Meow! Meow!

Montage 4: "Sleeping Maine Coon"

Title: Sleeping Maine Coon

[Scene: Spookie comes across a large Maine Coon cat peacefully sleeping on a porch swing.]

Spookie (whispering): (cautiously) We'll let this one dream in peace.

[Spookie quietly tiptoes past the sleeping cat, not wanting to disturb its slumber.]

Montage 5: "Calico Commotion"

Title: Calico Commotion

[Scene: Spookie finds a calico cat perched on a fence.]

Spookie (whispering): (enthusiastically) Time for a little chaos.

[Spookie jumps out with her mask on. The calico cat hisses and quickly leaps to the ground, scampering away.]

Calico Cat (hissing and fleeing): Hiss! Hiss!

Montage 6: "Ginger Surprise"

Title: Ginger Surprise

[Scene: Spookie spots a ginger cat grooming itself on a porch.]

Spookie (whispering): (mischievously) Let's interrupt that spa day.

[Spookie suddenly appears with her mask on. The ginger cat startles and swats at her with its paw before bolting away.]

Ginger Cat (swatting and hissing): Hiss! Hiss!

Montage 7: "Ragdoll Reaction"

Title: Ragdoll Reaction

[Scene: Spookie encounters a Ragdoll cat lounging on a windowsill.]

Spookie (whispering): (playfully) Time to get those paws moving.

[Spookie jumps out with her mask on. The Ragdoll cat leaps off the windowsill, its fur fluffed up as it gracefully glides to the floor.]

Ragdoll Cat (gracefully gliding): Meow! Meow!

Montage 8: "Tuxedo Terror"

Title: Tuxedo Terror

[Scene: Spookie hides behind a curtain in a living room as a tuxedo cat prowls nearby.]

Spookie (whispering): (with anticipation) Let's see if this cat has a hidden jumpscare talent.

[Spookie suddenly appears with her mask on. The tuxedo cat leaps into the air, its tail bushy, and lands with a dramatic flourish before darting away.]

Tuxedo Cat (dramatic leap and fleeing): Meow! Meow!

Montage 9: "Bengal Bolt"

Title: Bengal Bolt

[Scene: Spookie approaches a Bengal cat lounging in the grass.]

Spookie (whispering): (enthusiastically) Time for a wild encounter.

[Spookie suddenly reveals herself with her mask on. The Bengal cat springs into action, zigzagging through the grass before dashing up a tree.]

Bengal Cat (zipping through the grass and climbing the tree): Meow! Meow!

Stay tuned for more of Spookie's cat-scare adventures!

Part 2: Spookie Scares Cats (10-19 Montages with Titles, Actions, and Dialogues Transcript)

Montage 10: "Persian Perplexity"

Title: Persian Perplexity

[Scene: Spookie encounters a Persian cat lounging on a velvet cushion.]

Spookie (whispering): (slyly) Time to ruffle those luxurious fur coats.

[Spookie suddenly appears with her mask on. The Persian cat blinks lazily and stretches, unperturbed.]

Persian Cat (blinking): Meow.

Montage 11: "Russian Blue Rush"

Title: Russian Blue Rush

[Scene: Spookie finds a Russian Blue cat perched on a windowsill.]

Spookie (whispering): (intrigued) Let's see if those blue eyes can handle a fright.

[Spookie jumps out with her mask on. The Russian Blue cat gazes at her with calm curiosity, unflinching.]

Russian Blue Cat (calmly): Meow.

Montage 12: "Sphynx Startle"

Title: Sphynx Startle

[Scene: Spookie stumbles upon a Sphynx cat reclining on a heated blanket.]

Spookie (whispering): (curious) How will this one react?

[Spookie suddenly reveals herself with her mask on. The Sphynx cat shivers slightly but continues to relax.]

Sphynx Cat (shivering): Meow.

Montage 13: "Abyssinian Amusement"

Title: Abyssinian Amusement

[Scene: Spookie approaches an Abyssinian cat exploring a sunny backyard.]

Spookie (whispering): (playfully) Time for a game of hide-and-scare.

[Spookie jumps out with her mask on. The Abyssinian cat stops, blinks, and then resumes its explorations, seemingly unfazed.]

Abyssinian Cat (casually): Meow.

Montage 14: "Himalayan Hilarity"

Title: Himalayan Hilarity

[Scene: Spookie hides behind a curtain in a cozy living room as a Himalayan cat relaxes nearby.]

Spookie (whispering): (with anticipation) Let's add some excitement to this cozy scene.

[Spookie suddenly appears with her mask on. The Himalayan cat startles and then playfully bats at her mask before returning to its nap.]

Himalayan Cat (playfully batting): Meow. Meow.

Montage 15: "Burmese Bounce"

Title: Burmese Bounce

[Scene: Spookie finds a Burmese cat chasing a toy mouse.]

Spookie (whispering): (energetically) Time to join the game!

[Spookie jumps out with her mask on. The Burmese cat is momentarily surprised, but then it continues to chase the toy mouse with renewed enthusiasm.]

Burmese Cat (playful bounce): Meow! Meow!

Montage 16: "Manx Mystery"

Title: Manx Mystery

[Scene: Spookie encounters a tailless Manx cat sitting on a porch.]

Spookie (whispering): (intrigued) How will a tailless cat react?

[Spookie suddenly appears with her mask on. The Manx cat blinks slowly and then calmly continues to watch the surroundings.]

Manx Cat (calmly): Meow.

Montage 17: "Scottish Fold Surprise"

Title: Scottish Fold Surprise

[Scene: Spookie comes across a Scottish Fold cat with its unique folded ears, sitting by a sunny window.]

Spookie (whispering): (curiously) Will those folded ears twitch in surprise?

[Spookie suddenly reveals herself with her mask on. The Scottish Fold cat blinks and then lazily folds its ears back, unfazed.]

Scottish Fold Cat (folding ears): Meow.

Montage 18: "Ragamuffin Ruckus"

Title: Ragamuffin Ruckus

[Scene: Spookie encounters a Ragamuffin cat with a disheveled appearance, exploring a cluttered garage.]

Spookie (whispering): (playfully) Let's join the adventure!

[Spookie suddenly appears with her mask on. The Ragamuffin cat startles, lets out a gruff meow, and then continues its exploration.]

Ragamuffin Cat (gruff meow): Meow.

Montage 19: "American Shorthair Startle"

Title: American Shorthair Startle

[Scene: Spookie finds an American Shorthair cat napping on a sofa.]

Spookie (whispering): (with a sly smile) Let's gently wake this one up.

[Spookie suddenly reveals herself with her mask on. The American Shorthair cat blinks, yawns, and stretches before returning to its nap.]

American Shorthair Cat (yawning): Meow.

Stay tuned for more of Spookie's cat-scare adventures!

Part 2: Spookie Scares Cats (20-30 Montages with Titles, Actions, and Dialogues Transcript)

Montage 20: "Bengal's Bounce Back"

Title: Bengal's Bounce Back

[Scene: Spookie returns to the Bengal cat she previously startled in "Bengal Bolt." The cat recognizes her.]

Spookie (whispering): (apologetic) Back for a rematch, are we?

[Spookie suddenly appears with her mask on. The Bengal cat, remembering the previous encounter, springs into action and darts away with even more agility.]

Bengal Cat (zooming away): Meow! Meow!

Montage 21: "Siberian Serenity"

Title: Siberian Serenity

[Scene: Spookie discovers a serene Siberian cat resting in a cozy corner.]

Spookie (whispering): (respectfully) We'll let this one enjoy its tranquility.

[Spookie quietly tiptoes past the Siberian cat, not wanting to disturb its peaceful nap.]

Montage 22: "Munchkin Mirth"

Title: Munchkin Mirth

[Scene: Spookie finds a playful Munchkin cat with short legs chasing its tail.]

Spookie (whispering): (intrigued) Let's add some twist to the tail chase.

[Spookie suddenly appears with her mask on. The Munchkin cat blinks and then continues its tail-chasing antics with a hint of excitement.]

Munchkin Cat (short-legged chase): Meow! Meow!

Montage 23: "Chartreux Chase"

Title: Chartreux Chase

[Scene: Spookie encounters a Chartreux cat with a calm disposition, observing a butterfly.]

Spookie (whispering): (cautiously) We won't disturb your butterfly meditation.

[Spookie quietly watches the Chartreux cat observing the butterfly, respecting its moment of tranquility.]

Montage 24: "Devon Rex Dash"

Title: Devon Rex Dash

[Scene: Spookie stumbles upon a Devon Rex cat with a playful and energetic personality.]

Spookie (whispering): (with enthusiasm) Ready for a game of tag?

[Spookie suddenly reveals herself with her mask on. The Devon Rex cat zips around the room in an energetic game of chase.]

Devon Rex Cat (playful dash): Meow! Meow!

Montage 25: "Savannah Startle"

Title: Savannah Startle

[Scene: Spookie finds a Savannah cat with striking spots, lounging on a porch.]

Spookie (whispering): (curious) How will this exotic beauty react?

[Spookie suddenly appears with her mask on. The Savannah cat looks up with an air of curiosity, its spotted coat shimmering.]

Savannah Cat (curiously): Meow.

Montage 26: "Oriental Oddity"

Title: Oriental Oddity

[Scene: Spookie encounters an Oriental Shorthair cat with large ears, perched on a bookshelf.]

Spookie (whispering): (intrigued) Those ears must hear something interesting.

[Spookie suddenly reveals herself with her mask on. The Oriental Shorthair cat blinks and then nonchalantly leaps off the bookshelf.]

Oriental Shorthair Cat (leaping gracefully): Meow.

Montage 27: "Turkish Van Tranquility"

Title: Turkish Van Tranquility

[Scene: Spookie discovers a Turkish Van cat with unique coloration, lounging by a tranquil pond.]

Spookie (whispering): (appreciative) Enjoy your serene moment by the water.

[Spookie quietly watches the Turkish Van cat by the pond, respecting its peaceful contemplation.]

Montage 28: "Balinese Bounce Back"

Title: Balinese Bounce Back

[Scene: Spookie returns to the Balinese cat she previously startled in "Siamese Scare." The cat recognizes her.]

Spookie (whispering): (apologetic) I promise no surprises this time.

[Spookie suddenly appears with her mask on. The Balinese cat blinks and then continues its elegant lounging, seemingly forgiving the previous scare.]

Balinese Cat (elegant relaxation): Meow.

Montage 29: "British Shorthair Break"

Title: British Shorthair Break

[Scene: Spookie encounters a British Shorthair cat with a round face, resting on a cushion.]

Spookie (whispering): (admiring) Such a distinguished appearance.

[Spookie quietly observes the British Shorthair cat's regal nap, not wanting to disturb its royal repose.]

Montage 30: "Sphynx's Second Sighting"

Title: Sphynx's Second Sighting

[Scene: Spookie returns to the Sphynx cat she previously startled in "Sphynx Startle." The cat recognizes her.]

Spookie (whispering): (apologetic) Back for another visit, my hairless friend?

[Spookie suddenly reveals herself with her mask on. The Sphynx cat shivers slightly again, then continues to relax.]

Sphynx Cat (shivering again): Meow.

Spookie's cat-scare adventures continue, with some feline friends finding comfort in her familiar presence.

[blatantescapism]

Re: “Wellington had to put it somewhere people would see it, or he’d offend the Prince” the man created an entire massive art gallery / banquet room because he had so many art gifts he was socially obligated to display. It’s not like his only choice was to put it in the stairway!

The staircase is at the heart of the house. It is the ONLY staircase. (Ignoring the tiny, narrow stairs hidden away for the servants.)

Immediately after Wellington was given the statue, he had the floor of the staircase redone, specifically so that it would be strong enough to support the weight of the statue. He moved the statue into place as SOON as it was ready to go.

A few years later he did a bunch of house renovations, including redesigning the staircase.

The way that fancy railing curves perfectly around the statue? Creating a well-proportioned frame, mirroring the angles of the statue’s arms? That’s deliberate.

The way anyone walking up the stairs will be at the perfect position and height to make direct eye contact with Napoleon’s marble face? That’s deliberate!

Image descriptions under the cut:

[Image description: First image: A tweet by RedScharlach. “The most interesting thing about Apsley House, former home of the Duke of Wellington, is that there’s a massive naked statue of Napoleon at the bottom of the stairs. Because having an unrealistically hunky nude of your arch-enemy on public display doesn’t raise ANY questions.” A photo of the marble statue is shown below. It is massive, over 11 feet tall. Napoleon’s left hand holds a staff made of gilded bronze, and his right holds a small gilded bronze figurine of Winged Victory atop the Globe. He has a cloak draped over his left shoulder, hanging in a way that evokes a Roman toga but does not cover his body. A sculpted fig leaf covers his penis, but he is otherwise nude. The sculptor, Antonio Canova, chose to take many artistic liberties with Napoleon’s actual appearance, in order to sculpt an idealized, more virile form. The sculpture stands in the oval-shaped stairwell of the grand staircase at the center of the house. The staircase has a fancy, gilded, early Rococo railing, and curves around the sculpture perfectly.

Next image: screenshots taken from other parts of the same tweet thread. Some parts are cut off.

“The statue shows Napoleon as Mars the Peacemaker and is by Antonio Canova, who insisted on making it a nude because that was Heroic and Classical and Manly TM. Originally he presented it to Napoleon himself, who basically said “…um, okay” and stashed it somewhere discreet.

After Wellington’s forces beat Napoleon at Waterloo, the British seized a load of Napoleon’s art collections and presented the statue to Wellington, because well, who doesn’t want to gaze upon their unrealistically hunky nude nemesis on the regular? (I certainly do.)”

“is huge. Over 11 feet tall, as I said. I am 5 foot 9, so when I walked up to the statue, the Napoleonic fig leaf was RIGHT at my eye level. Plus, the leaf covers Boney’s bone but not his balls.

Arthur Wellesley, First Duke of Wellington, was 5 foot 9 inches tall. So when he walked into his own hallway, a marble-hewn enlargement of his arch-enemy’s scrotum, the size of an overgrown grapefruit, was hanging RIGHT IN FRONT OF HIS NOSE.

Here ends this art-historical thread.”

Below, there is a painted portrait of Wellington’s face, and a cropped photo of the groin of the statue, photoshopped side by side so that Wellington is staring at Napoleon’s balls.

End ID. /]

Sorry I wasn't listening to you, I was thinking about the Duke of Wellington's personal 11-foot-tall statue of nude, totally jacked Napoleon.

Twitter thread! (and yes Kate Beaton's "Nemesis" comic comes up)

[dsandrvk]

Tuesday, May 2 - Taipei

Our first and only day in Taipei, since we are looking to move around the island and see different areas. Taipei is huge, busy, loud, but everyone was friendly and helpful. Our first stop was back to the train station to get "Easy cards", which are like loaded debit cards that can then be used on transportation and in some convenience stores. We wanted to get them yesterday, but have to buy and load them with Taiwan cash, and we couldn't find a reasonable ATM at the airport. As in Japan, a 7-11 is the easiest place to find an ATM, and there was one right in our hotel building, so we got cash this morning.

Once we had money, we couldn't seem to find the automated machines to buy the cards, so we went to a convenience store and bought unloaded cards and loaded them there. Rather than the usual multi-colored logo cards that are common, all they had were special edition cards (same price), but we had to laugh when we saw them (the last photo of the set). Snoopy on top of Delicate Arch, proudly stating "Utah"! We just can't really seem to get away from home!

We also picked up train tickets for tomorrow that we had ordered on line - and then made our way to one of the subway lines. Our destination was a little forested "mountain" just to be north a few stops away. When we got off the rail line, it was a little confusing where the hike started, and we went up a trail shown on Maps.me, which soon devolved into a steep, gully, with a rope strung on one side. For some reason, we continued on, and as the hillside finally flattened out a bit, we got back to concrete steps and covered, concrete floored "patios". We reached one with a beautiful view to the northwest and we're surprised to find it full of other hikers, who had come up a different way (obviously). We sat and admired the view (the building with what looks like a goiter is the Taiwan Performing Arts Center), and were amazed that this little pavilion had a drinking fountain and complete outdoor kitchen. From here there were many paths (all with steps) that covered the entire top and south and east side of this hill, and many, many little terraces with open gates, mostly covered with kitchen facilities. This is obviously one big party place. We took some other paths to other viewpoints and eventually made our way down to where we should have started our hike, about 500 yards from where we started. Had we done it this way, it would have all been concrete steps! Several of the terraces were occupied by small groups, mostly doing karaoke. It was very humid in the forest, but shaded, at least, and there were lots of birds and flowers. There was one temple near the bottom, also, with beautiful ceilings.

From here we got back on the metro and took it south to the Chiang Kai-shek Memorial Hall complex. The complex is a huge park with both the National Theatre and National Concert Hall, as well as formal gardens, and less formal water gardens on the exterior. This was the first place we saw more than a couple of non-Asian people. The center of complex originally had more formal gardens, but is now a huge expanse of white paving, leading the eye from the entrance gate to the hall. At the top of the 89 steps (one for each of his years), there is a huge bronze statue and another beautiful ceiling detail, as well as two live military guards who stand stiffly at attention. We had just missed the changing of the guard, so the crowds were thinning out a bit.

What surprised us about this area was the abundance and variety of birds - all the foliage and water is a real draw. Identifying them is going to take a while, since I only have an app for this area and it isn't ideal.

By this time, we were a little tired from lack of sleep and the heat, so we headed back towards our hotel, stopping at another park, this one in memorial to those killed in a massacre during an uprising in the years immediately following WWII. It was one of the reasons Taiwan was under martial law until 1987, and only recently have they come to terms with some of the atrocities of that time.

We got back to our hotel after dark, and had picked up a little cold noodle dish and some beer, and were glad to hit the shower and take off our shoes. It was mid-80's today and humid, but with good AC we are looking forward to catching up on our sleep. On to the Taroko Gorge area tomorrow!

[thekaykery]

11:35 pm

pairing: jeon jeongguk x fem!reader

category: smut

word count: 2.2k

rating: 21+

warning(s): pwp, fwb, fuckboy!dom!jeongguk, sub!reader cursing, unprotected sex (wrap before you tap), oral (f), choking, spanking, creampie, slight degradation, slight use of daddy, mention of safe word but not used, implied second round

notes: @playmetheclassics thank you for beta reading this. i forgot to add this when i posted. ❤️

You don’t know how this happened.

About an hour ago, you came to this party in this obnoxious frat house with some friends, dressed in a skin-tight velvet dress in your favorite color. The hem fell just below your midthigh, the spaghetti straps keeping it in place on your shoulders. The dress emphasized your figure and waist, showing just the right amount of cleavage. You didn't know how many guys tried to sweet-talk you into dancing and joining them in bed.

You stayed sober for your friends’ sakes, to keep them safe, but all that flew out the window when he found you.

You hadn’t noticed him approaching you until his hand found your waist, his lips against your ear, his breath fanning over it while he whispered what he wanted to do to you. He wished to bend you over and rail the shit out of you, your dress bunched at the waist; how he desired to devour you and taste you so badly on his tongue.

Jeon Jeongguk. Heartthrob, wrecker of hearts and pussies.

He was incredibly convincing, and the way he was dressed didn’t help. A white shirt hugged his muscular torso, ridiculous pecs, broad shoulders, and abs. Black skinny jeans clung to his meaty thighs, threatening to burst the seams, his chunky stompers on his feet. Rings sat on his tattooed hand, his veins threading up his arm sleeved in more tattoos. His little kisses on your jaw and behind your ear, his lip ring cold on your skin, his deep, husky voice and playful smirk drove you up the wall.

You couldn’t deny him. You really couldn’t.

So here you are, laying on your back with your dress bundled at the waist as promised, your tits and cunt exposed to the cool air of the borrowed bedroom. Your legs hang over his shoulders, your heeled feet sitting on his back while he buries his face into your pussy. Your hands tangled in his fluffy hair, your wide eyes stare at the ceiling, a moan slipping out of you.

“F-Fuck, Jeongguk,” you croak, throwing your head back when his lips capture your clit, suckling on it like a baby. Your toes curl at his fluttering tongue.

He chuckles, the vibration causing you to jolt. You gasp for air, thighs widening to accommodate his skilled mouth better. You mewl when his tongue prods your entrance, clenching around nothing because of it, and your eyes roll as his attention returns to your sensitive bud of nerves. Sucking in a breath, you peek at him, biting your lip at how sexy he looks with your cunt in his face.

Your hips roll and circle on his receiving and ready tongue, trembling at the stimulation. You hear him hum, rapidly lapping away, your jaw dropping. You softly squeal, your back arching.

“J-Jeongguk,” you manage to say, hissing at his harsh suckling. Your pussy throbs, aching for something to fill you up. You buck against his mouth, tugging on his hair.

“Yes?” he rasps, never ceasing, continuing to tease you. He slurps up your juices, the sound incredibly obscene yet erotic.

You pant, your brain scrambling for words. “N-Need you.”

“Oh?” Jeongguk finally parts from your pussy, lips and chin shiny. You blush while he cleans your mess with his tongue, wiping the rest of it off with his hand. He crawls on top of you, piercings glinting in the room's dim light. His hips slot between your legs, his naked cock nestling against your cunt.

“What do you mean?”

You whimper again at his teasing, arms and legs twining around him. Your lips attach to his neck and jaw.

“N-Need your cock inside me,” you huff out.

A contented hum leaves him, his callused touch drifting over your body. You arch into his hands, spreading you further apart, exposing your pulsing center to him. He reaches down to align with you, and your throat tightens in excitement. He needs to push in.

“Jeongguk,” you grumble, impatiently dropping your head on the pillow. You lift your hips, attempting to slip him inside, but he pins you to the bed.

“Be patient, little girl,” Jeongguk murmurs, wickedly smirking. Being the little shit he is, he dips his tip inside you, the sudden stretch making you gasp and mewl. Then he withdraws a second later. He repeats this a few times, and you grow frustrated with every passing moment.

Whining like a baby, you pout at him, tired of him teasing you. You stick a hand between your legs to rub your clit, but you’re promptly growled at, hand smacked away. Fingers wrap around your neck, rings cold, and you stifle a moan. It’s his right hand, meaning you have a premium view of his tattoos and veins. Your gaze trails up to his face, his eyes burning with fire.

“What did I just say?” he barks, tightening his grip. You close your eyes and press your lips tightly together, your walls squeezing at the lack of air.

“Be patient,” you echo, dazedly lifting your lids.

“Then do it.”

You slowly nod, your attention flickering to his cock, which he finally slips inside you. A groan leaves both of you as Jeongguk carefully pushes in, your cunt eagerly greeting him, taking him for all he’s worth. The stretch burns deliciously. You gaze at each other the entire time, a little squeak escaping you when he’s fully sheathed within you. You exhale while he pants, his body a tight cord of muscle above you, ready to snap in a second.

“You feel so good,” Jeongguk rasps, his expression the one of a man whipped for pussy. “Fuck…”

You lay there in bliss, your breaths labored. You settle into silence, your panting mixing, the atmosphere heavy with sex and desire. He’s so thick and long, touching all those places you’re reminded of, so full, filled to the brim with Jeongguk’s delightful dick. He’s waiting for your signal, just like the last session.

This isn’t the first time you and Jeongguk have fucked. You’d been so drunk the night you let him rail you, and when you woke up in your apartment in the morning, your body still ached with his touch, his kisses, the sensation of his cock stuffed deep inside you. You hadn’t known his name or face, but the next time he found you at another party, you remembered, and you learned his name was Jeongguk.

And he knew you as the girl with the unforgettable pussy.

“I’ve been wondering where you were,” he had told you, a finger trailing along your jaw, his voice smooth and husky. His breath smelled like alcohol, and he smelled like the forest and fresh air, the musk of freshwater, all mixed together.

“I don’t know you,” you replied, already tipsy.

“No, but your body knows me,” he said. And he was right.

And although you’ve been fucking since then, feelings haven’t gotten involved. Not that you know of, anyway. If Jeongguk feels something romantic for you, he’s been doing a good job hiding it. As for you, you’d be lying if you said your heart didn’t pound harder around him.

“Okay,” you finally say, flopping your arms above your head, elongating your torso. You spot his eyes flickering to your tits for a moment. “Go ahead.”

Jeongguk shifts to his forearms with a grunt, holding steady as he carefully withdraws. A low moan leaves both of you. For you, it’s the emptiness, and for him, the lack of warmth and tightness. Once it’s just his tip remaining, he slowly plunges back in. Your eyes roll, a little whine rippling in your throat. Jeongguk softly hisses, his hands gliding up to yours, twining your fingers together, the action itself sweet.

He keeps this pace for a small while, letting you adjust to his girth. His lips drift over your jaw and neck, his breath hot on your skin.

Soon enough, there’s a mutual agreement between you. You shift beneath him, lifting your hips, and Jeongguk moves to his knees, his hands finding the bed at your sides. He quickens his speed, making you moan. The sound of your skin clapping gently echoes through the room, but it’ll grow louder eventually. Your tits bounce lightly in time with his thrusts, the drag of his veiny cock against your walls so addicting, the ridges heightening the pleasure.

With some struggle, you meet his stare. His jaw clenches, his brows furrowed, teeth nibbling his lip while he rocks into you, back and forth, his balls lightly smacking your second hole. You reach to caress his cheeks, leaning up to kiss him. Jeongguk moans, passionately returning your kiss, his tempo growing slightly sensual and deep. This causes his tip to nudge that sweet spot inside you perfectly, and you loudly whine, throwing an arm around his shoulders.

“Fuck, Jeongguk,” you pant, your feet planted on the bed, now rolling your hips in time with his. He shakily exhales, his nose nudging yours with each movement. “Fucking me so good.”

“Of course,” he groans in response, supporting you with one arm of his own on your waist. “Pussy was made for me.”

You breathlessly laugh against his lips, your pussy clenching around him. Jeongguk grunts, losing his pace for a second to harshly snap into you. You yelp, but your eyes roll, head falling backwards and hanging. His mouth finds your neck, pressing open-mouthed kisses to it, teeth nipping here and there.

Both of you are growing desperate. You know each other too well by now to recognize the signs of eagerness brewing between you. Jeongguk slides out, allowing you to scurry to your knees and turn around. You lean forward on your hands, perking your ass for him as he assumes his spot behind you. This is your favorite position. He gets to see your cheeks jiggle, and his tip will hit that spot so perfectly it makes you see stars.

His cock returns inside you without a hiccup. A little moan leaves you, feeling his hard body against your back. His right hand gripping the headboard in front of you, the other on your hip.

“Ready?” he murmurs in your ear. You nod, biting your lip, anticipating the destruction of your cunt. “Know the word?”

“Uh-huh,” you say, wiggling your ass at him, smirking at the grunt you receive for it. You bite your lip with a smile when he spanks you, humming at the lingering sting. “Come on… Hurry.”

He gently hushes you, starting a slow pace again, just to let you adjust to this new angle. You lightly moan, rocking yourself back into him, your pussy throbbing with every thrust. This tender tempo doesn’t last long, though. You squeal the instant he speeds up, his hips rapidly flying like a well-oiled machine. His balls slap against your clit, providing the poor thing with the stimulation it needs.

“O-Oh, fuck!” you moan, your fingers digging into the sheets while Jeongguk grunts and groans, your thighs stinging a bit from the impact of his own. “God, fucking me so good.”

The tattooed hand on the headboard disappears with a metal flash, joining its twin at your hips. He wildly ruts into you, your breasts jolting in unison with him, listening to him moan and hiss behind you. You fall forward, face meeting the pillow, now fully submitting to him. You hear him growl in approval, and you grin a little while he keeps ramming you like an animal. The quick glide of his cock on your walls draws you closer and closer to that edge you love falling over so much, your body singing with joy.

“G-Guk,” you croak, your hand finding his, tightly clutching one of his fingers as a warning.

“You gonna cum for me?” Jeongguk pants, his voice strained with concentration and pleasure. “Gonna cum all over my cock? Be a good girl and make a nice, big mess, yeah?”

“U-Uh-huh!” you wail, burying your face into the pillow to muffle your growing noises. “J-Jeongguk!”

“Cum for me, slut,” he growls, spanking you again.

“Cum for Daddy.”

That title sends you over the edge. You squeal into the pillow, your body stiffening and locking up as Jeongguk fucks you through your orgasm. His cock is almost too much, making you sob and squirm. Your clenching makes him join you in ultimate euphoria, doubling over and nearly crushing you with his weight. His throaty groan has you shivering, but feeling him dump his warm cum in you satiates you. Just a little.

You lightly hum, slowly relaxing beneath him. You lie there, panting and calming down, and you feel his lips ghost over the spot behind your ear. Goosebumps appear on your skin because of it.

“Such a good cunt,” Jeongguk murmurs. You can hear the smirk in his voice.

You softly snort and shake your head at him, shivering when he slowly withdraws from you completely. Your mixed cum shortly follows, hot and thick as it drips down your thighs. You glance at Jeongguk, finding him greedily staring with a hungry gaze.

“You gonna clean me up?” you tease, shaking your ass at him.

He stifles a moan, and you giggle, watching his softened cock harden. You reach between your legs and pet your used pussy. This earns you a whine, and your hand is replaced with his mouth. His tongue drags through your pussy, occasionally flitting over your clit. You moan gently, letting him swallow the mess you both created. His lapping makes you wet again.

You hear movement. Looking down to... find Jeongguk lying between your thighs?

“Ride my face?” he breathlessly suggests, his lip ring twinkling with his smirk.

Humming, you lower yourself onto his awaiting tongue.

“Of course.”

© thekaykery 2022