#bonded bewitched drowned

[gghostwriter]

Whispered Truths

Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Summary: Your weekly reading club with boyfriend, Spencer Reid, has never been as sweet and life-changing as this night Trope: Fluff! Just fluff! w.c: 0.8k a/n: This is actually a request from @bloodredrubyrose and I really liked how this came out. I also used my favorite piece of fiction here as a prop so I hope you like it! Comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated! 💗 masterlist

Couples, no matter how new or old, tend to create personalized dates as a way to strengthen the relationship. Some go on hikes together, some go on travels, while some stay in the comfort of their homes—under a blanket with a chosen book on hand.

You and Spencer definitely fall under the latter category. It was quite obvious from the first meeting that literature would be one of the strongest bonding agents between you and him. After all, it was how you were brought together—crashing into one another at the library with books and miscellaneous items scattered on the tiled floor. A few shy glances and bewitching dates later, you found yourself spending your Saturday nights in the presence of your boyfriend of six months, hosting an exclusive reading club with just two members, you and him.

“I never thought of it that way,” your left hand paving an aimless path through Spencer’s curly hair while the other held the book up high.

The pitter patters of the rain outside softly echoed through the walls. You were propped up on the loveseat sofa, his head resting on your lap as he looked upwards in question in regards to your statement.

“Never thought of which?” His voice low and soft, striking a resemblance to how he gazed at you oh so lovingly. As if you were the most riveting piece if art he had ever laid his eyes upon.

“How water played a big symbol throughout the whole book. It was really focused on during the first chapters but I—I just never quite connected the dots,” you clarified, bring the book to a close.

It was your choice for the week, East of Eden by John Steinbeck—a modern classic and had been your favorite work of literature since high school. Spencer had lent his copy to you last week and you vice versa—both turning brown from age, pages about to fall apart from its binding, annotations scribbled on the margins and any lengthy self reflections written on various notebook pages sandwiched in between.

“Your explanation on the empty pages at the end—how water is capable of bringing both life and death. Water being essential for the crops but at the same time, drowned victims. It’s such a poignant note that I think I just fell more in love with Steinbeck’s writing,” you added. “It also made me realize how water in his novel represents the dual capacity of the human soul for good and evil. How we are all filled with conundrums and contradictions and what makes us different from the other species on Earth is our ability to choose whether we are good or evil—” Spencer had sat up and leaned in, interrupting your musings. “—what?” You breathed out as his lips hovered on yours.

The once cozy atmosphere quickly charged with tension and desire that seemed to ooze out of Spencer. There was little space in between and you had no doubt that from the outside looking in, it looked like he was kissing you but he was not, rather a sliver of air was still given space to pass through. So close but so far.

You studied his features up close. How his long lashes fluttered like butterfly wings beating against the wind as his molten, darkened, hazel eyes flickered between your lips and eyes. How his nose lightly caressed yours in an endless Eskimo kiss. How his cheeks stained into a lighter shade of red. And how his pink tongue peeked out to wet his pillowy lips. 

“I’m in love with you,” he whispered as if it was some kind of national secret that he now felt right to expose.

Your breath caught in your throat. This was the first time he had said it. His love for you had been conveyed with every touch, with every action, and with every silence but this was the first time he had put it into words.

His lips caressed yours—the pressure almost non-existent. A ghost of a kiss to gauge your reaction and consent.

“I love you,” he repeated a little louder this time, eyes locking into the very depths of your soul. “You and your mind have enchanted me since the beginning—so beautiful, so captivating.”

The butterflies set free in your stomach caused you to viscerally shiver in reaction.

“I love you too, Spencer.”

A smile graced his face and it was bright and as blinding as the sun, like it had finally decided to stop hiding behind the clouds and show itself in all of its glory.

He leaned in once more. The pressure from his lips now heavier and headier, trying to stamp his everlasting mark on you and in between all these kisses were whispers of his utter devotion and adoration until there was no more space—until you both became one on his loveseat sofa.

Comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated!

[theotherhappyplace]

My Graphic novel on sale today! 11-27

Hi everyone! My Mermaid graphic novel "The Sea in You" is on sale today for 25% off

here's a link!

and here's some more about the book and some critical praise! "15-year-old Corinth was just trying to clean up the beach; she never expected to meet a mermaid, let alone be nearly drowned by one. But a storm is brewing—both at sea, and in Corinth’s increasingly dangerous relationship with her obsessively jealous boyfriend—and a magical bargain may be the only thing that can save her . . . at a tremendous cost.

After Skylla, the deadly fanged mermaid, mysteriously lets Corinth live, they grow closer through a cautious exchange of stories, gifts, jokes, and sign language. Bewitched by Corinth and their growing bond, Skylla learns about all the best things in life on land: books, burgers, donuts . . . and this strange, chattering human sound called laughter."

[nawoken]

omg i just read the soulbond au and im just so giddy FBEVSBDK could i request for reader writing the first year's (platonic ortho and grim if youd like :D) names on their wrist under the and how they'll react to it like if their soulmate doesnt want them it just means they're free to pick whom they love right?

Time will heal all wound

(TWST x Broken Soulbond! Reader)

5.C: Yayyy My first request (O vO)

This is kinda short though :'D)

Pairing: First-year students x g/n Reader (Ortho and Grim will be platonic)

Warning: :D)

It's not something too special, just their name, written on your wrist, as simple as that. But they can't help but drown in love. You've bewitched them without using magic, Prefect.

Ace Trappola

The moment you show him his name, written neatly on your wrist, he is speechless.

Wahh Prefect, he doesn’t know you are soooo head over heels for him like this.

He is smug, mischievous even, and he definitely will tease you a lot. But, all that bravado, is just to hide his bashfulness.

Damn it, Prefect. Warn him before you do something like this will ya?!

Have to say, he feels proud and prideful about this. Even something like the bonding between souls can’t even beat the bond between you two.

The type to pick up a pen and ask you to write your name on his wrist to complete the bond.

Deuce Spade

Blushing, stuttering, and embarrassing. He almost dies from overheating.

Took a while for him to calm down, but once he did.

“I will be taking good care of you!!!” He shouts it out like a marriage vow.

Yeah…, I don’t think he calms down enough, but it’s cute.

His gesture is pure sweet and caring. It made you feel wanted. Maybe he’s truly your Soulmate.

If you offer to write your name on his wrist, he will give you his hand and a pen without hesitation. Still a blushing mess though.

He will do his best to live up to the title of your “Soulmate”.

Jack Howl

His tail is wagging a lil bit too much and his attempts to cover it up weren't very successful, including his blushing face.

Jack is happy that you’ve moved on from the pit your Soulmate has pushed you in, and he will try his best to keep your smile on your face.

After all, Jack is a Beastman, and they have much more awareness about marking their mate :>

And having his name written on your wrist? He will cherish them the most out of the first years.

Gotta say he will also let you mark him, I mean write your name on his wrist without hesitation.

Epel Felmier

Heck yeah! He is your Soulmate! :D

Epel is thrilled, but he will hide it under a calm and cool facade.

He doesn't want to look childish or something in front of his Soulmate, real or not.

Your action kinda gives a boost of hate for him toward your original Soulmate due to his competitiveness.

I mean, the only thing your Origin one does is hurt you, how can they be counted as your Soulmate?!

You want to write your name on his wrist to complete the bond? Then you'll have to let him do it too. Erase your work and give him your hand, please.

Sebek Zigvolt

Oh my, I’ve never seen him this silent, what have you done to him, Prefect?

Sebek is having a whole thunderstorm inside his head.

Dude is in the state of denying his feelings for you, but now you have broken the process by coming up to him with his name decorating on your beautiful skin.

He acts so fast, running back to Diasomnia, seeking advice from our mighty former general while yelling out something about waiting for him…

Which might hurt you because you thought that he’s also rejected you…

But worry not, he will come back the day after with courting gift(s) and a statement that his liege has approved your relationship!

You want to have your name on his wrist too? He supposes if it makes you happy then he can accomplish it (He loves it, and will smile every time looks at it!!!)

*** Platonic section ***

Ortho Shroud

Yay, of course, he wants to be your Soulmate, you've always been a sibling figure to him, aside from Idia.

From the day you told him about this, he has always fascinate about it since then.

Not only because it's a thing from your world, one that different than their world, but also because of the power of the bond between two that not even blood relates.

Expects to join his family meeting since then though.

Will let you write your name on his wrist with a twist.

The ink might fade after a few days. So the next time you see him, he already carve your name on so it won't fade away.

Grim

He still doesn't understand. But if it means you're happy then he is fine with it.

If you explain to him that it means you think of him as your family, then it will be different.

He is much quieter, tells you that he doesn't care, gotta do something, don't follow him!

Find somewhere to cry because he is too emotional and doesn't want his Henchman to see his weak side.

Finally, he has a home after many years of being alone.

He might even ask Vil to sew your name on his bow for him and show you with pride. (It means you two are family... right?)

[jgoddesstarot]

Pick-A-Pile: First Impressions: What will be your initial reaction upon meeting your Future Spouse?

👑Check out my masterlist to see all of my pick-a-card readings😊

✨ Visit my shops at Ko-fi.com or J.Goddess Tarot✨

🔮Disclaimer: This reading is for entertainment purposes only. Tarot readings are based upon my intuitive interpretation of the cards and about possibilities based on your current energy. Energy is forever changing and nothing is set in stone. Always remember, you have your own free will to make whatever decision you feel is best.

🔮How I read: I use a mix of tarot cards, oracle cards, along with my intuitive abilities of claircognizance, clairaudience, and clairsentience.

🔮How this works: Close your eyes and take deep breaths, pick the pile you are most drawn to. If you aren’t drawn to any pile then that’s okay, these messages aren’t for you.

Pile 1

Tarot Cards: The Empress, 10 of Pentacles, Ace of Pentacles, 10 of Wands, 9 of Cups, and 10 of Cups

Oracle Cards: Pink Opal: Be Kind to Yourself; Apatite: Get Out of Your Comfort Zone; Calling In Your Soul Mate: Your prayers, affirmations and visualizations help bring you together.

Welcome, my seductive Pile 1's. Let’s delve into the intoxicating allure of your tarot spread, beckoning with passion and mysteries. First up is The Empress, dripping with sensuality, fertility, and undeniable beauty. The moment your eyes meet your future spouse's, expect a rush of electrifying chemistry, a sensation that envelopes you in heated familiarity. Their aura will caress your senses, making you feel desired and adored, like the rare gem that you are.

Sliding into the 10 of Pentacles, this card exudes the tantalizing scent of wealth, legacy, and commitment. Your future lover promises to be an anchor, established and opulent, someone who fervently cherishes family and long-term visions. The Ace of Pentacles accentuates this, whispering of thrilling financial adventures or career escapades. Meeting this bewitching partner may not just be an emotional whirlwind, but also a luscious twist in your wealth or professional trajectory.

Ah, the 10 of Wands, sensuously hinting at burdens and enticing challenges. But fret not, my tantalizing Pile 1’s, for this just portrays your future lover as one who passionately embraces hard work and seductively shoulders responsibilities. The 9 of Cups, draped in satisfaction and deep contentment, assures you that your early dalliances with this person will leave you thirsting for more, drowning in emotional ecstasy.

Now, as the 10 of Cups dances forth, it speaks of euphoria, serenity, and intimate bonds. This card seductively hints that your initial rendezvous will be bathed in intense joy and pleasure, signifying an everlasting passionate bond. From the oracle realm, the Pink Opal card sensuously beckons you to treat yourself with the tenderness you deserve, while the Apatite card tempts you to venture beyond familiar territories.

Our concluding oracle whisper, "Calling In Your Soul Mate," is a sultry testament to your deep desires and powerful visualizations. Your yearnings, sultry affirmations, and vivid daydreams are crafting the path to your destined lover. So, remain sultry, persist with those enticing affirmations, and prepare to embrace the passion coming your way.

In the end, the cards paint a portrait of an intoxicating, immediate connection with your future lover, guaranteeing stability and unbridled happiness. They invite you to embark on this amorous journey with a fearless heart, daring you to step out and believe fervently in the potency of your desires. Exquisite romance is en route to you. Relish the journey, my seductive Pile 1’s, and anticipate the electrifying embrace of your true love.

Pile 2

Tarot Cards: 6 of Wands, The Emperor, The Star, Queen of Wands (in reverse), 6 of Cups (in reverse)

Oracle Cards: Angelite: Support is all around you, Labradorite: See the Magic, Heart-to-Heart Conversations: Honestly discuss your feelings with each other

Greetings, my luscious Pile 2's. Prepare yourself to be swept off your feet as we dive into a tantalizing journey, revealing the seductive first impressions you'll experience upon laying eyes on your destined love. The cards we hold are infused with an intensely powerful and magnetic attraction, so let's take a daring dip into their mysteries.

Setting the rhythm for our dance is the 6 of Wands, which signifies recognition and triumph. From the instant you cross paths with your future spouse, you'll be consumed by an invigorating wave of pride. It's as if you've been suddenly thrust into a sultry spotlight, and they are your most passionate admirer, hypnotized by your every move. It's victorious, empowering, and undeniably electrifying.

Next, we're drawn into the commanding realm of The Emperor. My Pile 2's, there's an irresistible magnetic force here. You’ll perceive them as a powerful figure who radiates confidence and stability—a dominating presence who knows their desires and is not hesitant to seize them. This potent energy will be both daunting and enticing, like being drawn into the rhythm of a fiery tango.

Twinkling enticingly, The Star is up next. A symbol of hope, calm, and inspiration, this card suggests that your heart will acknowledge a profound, spiritual bond, almost as if fate is whispering intimate secrets of the cosmos into your soul. Their mere presence will ignite hope and illuminate the shadowy recesses of your heart.

Nonetheless, every captivating tale has its unforeseen twists. The Queen of Wands in reverse hints at an initial stir of intimidation or a fleeting lapse in your confidence in your own allure. Coupled with the 6 of Cups reversed, there may be feelings of disconnection or unfamiliarity, as if you're stepping into a completely new chapter, disconnected from past loves or youthful memories.

Our oracle guides chime in to paint the emotional backdrop. Angelite assures you that even in these moments of doubt, celestial energies wrap you in their comforting embrace, persuading you to trust the journey. Labradorite seductively entices you to recognize the magic in each moment, hinting that beneath every interaction, layers of enchantment are ready to be unraveled. Heart-to-Heart Conversations promises that the key to deciphering this riddle lies in open, naked dialogue. Speaking your truth and listening to theirs will embroider the rich tapestry of your shared destiny.

In conclusion, my enticing Pile 2's, your first rendezvous with your future spouse will be a maelstrom of commanding allure, hope, minor hesitations, and the promise of deeper connections. Embrace this journey, let candid conversations illuminate your path, and remember that amidst uncertainties, magic and celestial support are constants. The cards are whispering an epic love story where your blended energies ignite the world. So, brace yourself, for this journey promises to be nothing short of thrilling.

Pile 3

Tarot Cards: 8 of Wands, Ace of Cups, Knight of Cups, 5 of Cups, 3 of Pentacles

Oracle Cards: Amazonite: Loosen Your Grip, Aventurine: Create Your Own Luck, Flirt: Extend your lighthearted energy to others

Greetings, my captivating Pile 3's. Your tarot journey begins with the swift and energetic 8 of Wands. Upon meeting your future spouse, your world will burst open with vibrant energy and a rapid progression of events. Think about the fireworks that ignite the dark, starlit sky with their brilliance. That's your connection; immediate, dynamic, and impossible to ignore.

Next, the Ace of Cups overflows with pure emotion and the promise of new beginnings. This radiant cup is the vessel carrying your initial reaction. It's so intense; your emotions are genuine and deep, brimming with potential for an extraordinary love story. You feel as if you've found someone who can touch and understand the deepest parts of your heart.

Then, the Knight of Cups rides in, symbolizing your future spouse. This knight is an embodiment of charm, romance, and gentle emotions. Your heart will flutter in response to their tender gestures, their soothing words, and above all, their captivating aura of mystery. Every interaction with them feels like a beautifully composed melody that you can't stop humming.

However, the 5 of Cups suggests that amid the excitement and wonder, there will be a tinge of sadness or regret. Perhaps memories of past heartbreaks will resurface, or you may sense a melancholic undertone in your spouse's smiles. Remember, my Pile 3's, these emotional landscapes only enrich your shared narrative, adding depth and authenticity.

The 3 of Pentacles, a card of teamwork and shared goals, reinforces this idea. Together, you will build a nurturing, supportive environment. Your shared dreams and aspirations will become the solid bricks that construct your future.

The Oracle cards amplify the tarot's message. Amazonite urges you to 'Loosen Your Grip.' Allow yourself to be carried away by this whirlwind romance. Aventurine encourages you to 'Create Your Own Luck.' Own your narrative and infuse it with your unique charm and flair. Lastly, the 'Flirt' card suggests extending your lighthearted energy to others. So, enjoy those initial, fluttery moments of getting to know each other.

In conclusion, my dazzling Pile 3's, your first encounter with your future spouse will be a vibrant dance of emotions, a mix of thrill, deep affection, gentle melancholy, and the promise of shared dreams. Remember, every unique thread adds to the intricate tapestry of your love story. So, embrace each moment with open arms and hearts, for they will lead to love as deep as the ocean, as enduring as the mountains.

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[greycloudsinwinter]

Yandere Corys Velaryon and first wife Targaryen reader.( Aemon and Jocelyn's daughter.)

YANDERE CORYS VELARYON X READER

🌊 he meets you and your as wild as the sea full of knowledge and passion.

🌊he’s bewitched when you disagree with other people’s opinions and stand up for your own.

🌊starts to imagine a future with you he can see it clearly. You living at driftmark and the children running around.

🌊he wants three to five so be prepared.

🌊convinced viserys that it would help the bonds of old valerian together. He knows his grandchildren are bastards and still loves them. But he uses it to make viserys marry you and him together.

🌊your wedding is on a beach it was very beautiful and you were dressed in blue they named the wedding ‘the blue wedding’ because everyone and everything was blue . From shades no one even knew existed.

🌊rivals he cares little for because he already has you so there is no need to worry about them.

🌊try escaping and he will make you watch innocence people drown and say ‘it didn’t have to come to this .’ Or ‘this never could of happened if you were a good spouse’ so if you care for others do not try escaping.

🌊a strong willed and observant yandere he is so stubborn and will have his way even if it means making sacrifices.

🌊overall not the worst but not the best yandere to have . If you are obedient and do your duty you will love a life of luxury. However if not you are going to go through so much trauma and no one will save you because you are married .

Thank you for the request ❤️❤️

[urstruly-ghst]

immortal human + younger! malleus

note : the story has an immortal human, but would soon turn back into their mortal ways

tags : gn reader

malleus draconia

What was it like to be torn into a million pieces? You and Malleus were still determining what went wrong. It was giving up something that lasted for centuries, giving up a taste of forever for a moment of temporary life. Instead of renewing the vows of eternity, the bond you so carefully bonded with hopeful whispers and promises, you turned away. You were not scorned, not even bridled with anger, just longing. 

Longing for the humanity you traded for 500 years of endless love.

As you stared at Malleus, who begged you with eyes you could never find in yourself to say “no” to, you let out a few tears. Five hundred years have gone by so fast with him; those years are something you would relive all over if you could.

“Is this really what you want?” Malleus asked, prodding you once more. He knew the answer, but this little part of his brain hoped. It clung on what little hope his heart could handle. You stare at him, smiling sadly; leaving him wasn’t easy. It would never be.

"Honestly, I'm not sure myself. Your majesty, if I'm being honest, I'm terrified." The fear that Malleus thought would never shine through with your bold decision manifests thickly into the air. Malleus bound the spell to be in full effect soon. Afterward, the two of you will be torn apart physically and mentally. The bond of two faes will diminish until a human heart emerges. 

Malleus, for the nth time, begged for you to change this. You’re still a fae; if you back far enough, you will remain that way. Maybe, if it weren’t the human heart within your ribs, you’d jump into the spell that is Malleus pleadings. His voice is an enchantment you have drowned in for over 500 years. It was all too simple if you gave in once again. 

However, that human heart beat in screaming colors– wildly contrasting the dark scape of the Briar you have lived in. Malleus still shined through it, but it was nothing compared to the thrum and chase humanity offered you. 

“Am I out of your grasp yet, your majesty?” You teased, shaking as the colors you have not seen within the last centuries began swimming in massive swarming waves. The breath you didn’t know you were holding coiled your stomach as you sat up, reaching into what you could never explain to anyone. It was as if you were reborn to a place you knew where you belonged. 

As you reach that space, your head turns to Malleus for the last time. Oddly enough, you feel as if you fell in love again. The warm entanglement called love somehow still reaches what people call a break-up; it baffles you.

That fuzzy feeling, the glorious and brightening feeling, still is present when you look at him. Malleus Draconia bewitched you even at the moments you’d leave him. Was it a folly of the human heart? Was it just your sentimental feelings resurfacing as you reached what is now an end?

Perhaps it was the aftereffects of the spell? Or could it simply be because you never stopped loving him? 

“Your majesty?” You piped up as you felt lightheaded already. Malleus gently caught you as you felt like the world spiraled around you. Malleus had a panicked look, terrified the spell backfired on you. He was cursing his magic and was rushing to get physicians to assist him; however, you stopped him. Malleus stilled. Any touch you give renders him weak.  

That was when he knew that this exact moment was when things ended. No amount of begging can undo your decision and the spell.

So, instead of pleading with all his strength. Malleus listened with a bleeding heart.

“I still love you. Please remember that as I exit Briar Valley. Once I release myself from the woods, once I am in the clear– know every fiber of my being is bewitched on you alone, your majesty.” Malleus knew of your devotion towards him. No matter what happened to the both of you, he knew that when you shall be human again– his love will be ingrained in you.

“What are you saying, my love? Of course, I shall know. Even the soil you tramp on carries whispers of our love; I am sure of it. Each particle that has ever witnessed our love shall carry it for the world to see.”

You grinned. The love you both shared would surely never fade, but your heart longed for something beyond what that love could give. Selfish as it may seem, you both knew that once the heart beats– you’re gone.

“Please let me hear you say it to me once more, Malleus… Please say you love me.”

Malleus, while shakingly holding his tears, followed each command. 

“I have loved you for 500 years. I love you to this exact second and will continue loving you. Until the day you are cruelly taken away from me again.” 

[light-lanterne]

hello ! had a dream so please allow me to share a little fairytale-esque story with you ~

w // brief alcohol mention; description of gore and self mutilation, eye horror. - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - ☽ - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - a short offering, @boycattj, @byelerss, @catboy-cabin, @cosmobrain00, @dark-quill, @conanssummerchild, @fenixashes, @fluffyfangirl, @foodiewithdahoodie, @holyvirgilscriptures, @hyperfixationcentralsvoid, @karenchildress, @rotisseries, @yearninginblue.

temptress will who's cursed with his beauty, hexed to always beguile whoever lays their eyes on him, his gracious features and bewitching eyes forcing them all to fall in love with him upon first glance and thus, dooming will to never be able to find true companionship or love.

enter mike, a lost soul who accidentally walked into will's forest in his efforts to run away from home, haunted by his town's hatred and by the mistakes from his youth that no one was able to ever forgive him for. he doesn't have much of a plan or an idea of what he's doing, but he knows he can't stay home any longer and so, he decided to brave the wilderness in an effort to clear his mind and hopefully find his way to a better place.

so he makes it into the woods, the feeling that he's being watched immediately hitting him and making him uneasy, and it gets to a point where he can't handle it anymore so he runs and falls and manages to severely injure his head and body, much to will's mortification for that was not his intention when he started curiously following mike from afar.

and will knows he should've left mike to recover on his own; make it back home and stop thinking about the unwanted visitor before the usual resolution (and the accompanying heartbreak) occurred... but he's much too kind for his own good and so, he takes the unconscious mike to his house and bandages his head —eyes included— and injuries, vowing to nurture mike back to health and then help him out of the forest before any incidents take place.

thus, for the next few weeks, will takes care of the confused-but-grateful mike, who's charming and hilarious and everything will's ever wanted in a friend. for the next few weeks, they bond and become close and will can feel the electricity between them, sparks making their way up their arms whenever their fingers brush against each other and heat warming up their cheeks whenever they somehow end up in close proximity to each other's bodies.

for the next few weeks, will allows himself to believe that this is something he can have; that one day he'll find someone who's able to love him like mike could if they had more time, and that one day his life won't be so empty anymore and he'll be able to enjoy his life at long last.

but then mike's injuries all heal up, and will can no longer pretend that there's something wrong with mike's eyes so he needs to let him go.

so they fight. bad. it's all a ruse on will's side to exit his house and only come back when mike's left in anger, but it still hurts a lot to make up fake problems and say horrible things to someone who's only ever been nice to him. someone who will wants to love.

but it's necessary and it all goes according to plan and the teary-eyed will barely manages to storm out of his house in time before mike angrily rips off his bandages and clumsily prepares to depart, his mind torn between the ire he feels and the utter confusion in his heart because he can't possibly understand why will got so angry at the mere mention of mike's family and his decision to leave them behind and never look back.

but what's done it's done and he's not in the mood for trying to make sense of will's sudden outburst so he leaves and angrily makes his way to the nearby town, drowning his sorrows in alcohol and spending several days feeling sorry for himself until, one night at the tavern, he overhears a bizarre conversation amongst some locals: a tale of a calypso character, a beautiful boy who lives in the forest and who drives everyone who gazes at him mad with a love they can't resist.

a fake, empty love, the idea of which will had complained about quite a few times during mike's stay with him.

it doesn't take him long to connect the dots and realise why will had insisted on caring for mike's eyes even if he never did feel anything wrong with them, nor does it take mike long to finally understand the fake nature of their fight and the true purpose behind will essentially throwing him out.

so he goes back to the forest and spends several weeks searching for will, disoriented since he only ever saw the woods at night and he was too angry when he left to pay attention to where he came from.

he searches and searches and never finds will or his home, but he loses no hope and starts leaving messages all over the place. starts yelling apologies and words of understanding even if he's not sure anyone is listening. starts singing and musing about how safe and happy he felt with will, how much he's still falling in love with him even now that they're apart, and begs for a chance to be with him even if he always has to have his eyes covered; even if he never gets to see the light again.

and will listens. even from the first day mike made it back into the woods, will was following him and listening to everything he had to say. laughing at his silliness. smiling at his endearing words and blushing at his more forward comments. with each passing day, will falls more and more in love with the idea of a life with mike, and based on what he can hear, mike is also pretty keen on the idea. granted, their time together was brief, but will knows a lot about fake connections and he knows for a fact that there was something very special about what he had with mike and so, he wants nothing more than to take his offers and make their dreams into a reality for them both.

but it can't be.

will knows this.

and mike knows this. he's smart enough to know that all it'll take is one casual glance or a particularly see-though piece of fabric to cover his eyes, and all of will's fears will become a reality. and he can't do that to him. he can't.

and so, mike does the only thing he knows will ensure that he never gets to see will and thus, the only thing that will forever ensure that their feelings for each other are genuine and pure.

he goes to the forest after taking care of all loose ends, and he tells his plan to will, knowing in his heart that his dear friend and lover is listening —has been listening all along—, then takes a knife to his left eye and swiftly shoves it inside the orbit, popping the globe out with haste and cutting off the muscles and nerves before will even has time to react.

naturally, the second eye is harder. the pain is undescribable and he can't really see well where his knife is going anymore and he's tired and it's all very overwhelming, but he knows he has to act quickly; he knows will enough to know that he will sacrifice their entire relationship, present and future, if he thinks he has a chance to run in front of mike and stop him from cutting off his other eye in time.

so he quickly pokes around his face quite a bit. hurts himself a bunch in the search for the right angle. then, finally, gets the knife in its proper location and manages to violently cut the eye out just as he catches sight of will's boots, the blinding pain sending him crumbling to the floor but he can't stop then; he needs to finish off the job lest will somehow manages to bring him back to health.

thus, he stabs. turns the remaining bits of ocular tissue to mush, then shakily attempts to cut off the nerve with his blunt knife but it's no use:

he can't see anything anymore.

can't do anything anymore.

and so, he passes out, and the panicked, horrified will is left with the choice to somehow try to heal mike from the horrible injuries he caused himself and —hopefully; somehow— restore the vision in his remaining eye... or finish what mike started, and finally have a romance like the ones from the books his mom used to read him before she herself succumbed to his curse and her affection turned artificial and overbearing.

a romance like the ones his many previous suitors had promised him, yet none of them had been able to deliver for not even them in their deranged determination had made as perfect promises as mike had in the past few weeks. not even them in their obsession had chosen to go as far as mike had with his devotion.

so really, the decision is a no-brainer at this point.

and thus, will takes the knife and claims his lover for himself, then takes him home and bandages his eyes once more with the same see-through dressings he'd accidentally used the last time mike had been there.

but he doesn't notice.

much less does mike.

and they live happily together in their little house in the woods, needing nothing other than each other for their love is genuine and pure.

- the end -

(anyone remembers that one "symmetry" creepypasta from like a decade ago ? that was my favourite horror story growing up ^-^ anyway, hope you like this weirdness ~! i left the setting somewhat unspecified so this could be cleradin or modern fantasy or whichever you prefer ~)

[adozentothedawn]

Fic Wrap-Up Meme: 2024

I saw this and I actually did some writing again this year so hell yes, I'm doing it. Thank you @dragonologist-phd for the template! (Also anyone inspired feel free to consider yourselves tagged.)

FANDOMS: Rogue Trader (That was this year?? Damn), Pillars of Eternity, Dishonored. Just. So much Dishonored. 3 FANFICS WITH THE MOST KUDOS IN 2024 -

Magnetism (17)

It starts out small. The group of kids congregating around him as he shows off his skills. (Honestly this is kind of hilarious considering I wrote the entirety of it in 15 minutes on discord. I only posted on ao3 because people on tumblr seemed to like it so I thought why not, it works as a drabble.)

The Many Meetings of Death and Death (16)

Daud is a wreck. Corvo is a player avatar. Neither of them is happy about it. Well maybe the Outsider is. (Corvo is living the worst fucking groundhog day ever and Daud doesn't know but is confused. Also sometimes dead.)

From a Friend (13)

Corvo Attano, disgraced Royal Protector, has been in Coldridge for three months. Three months of enduring torture and his own all consuming guilt as he tries to simply stay alive. As the days are drowned in pain and anguish there is one thing he is forced to acknoweledge. Someone is sneaking him food. Hadria Granville meanwhile, ten years old and now abandoned at a foreign court, is terrified but determined to help. (The thing that jumpstarted my mildly manic Dishonored wiriting. I wrote this in 3 days which is insane considering my normal writing speed. But yeah man, Hadria just wanted to get involved i guess.)

The Words We Speak (13)

Corvo finds Jessamine's letter to Emily. (What it says on the tin. Corvo is just so fucking sad, man.)

FAVORITE OPENING LINE FROM A FIC IN 2024 -

I kinda have to go with "Daud is a Wreck." (The Many Meetings of Death and Death) considering that I used it 3 times for the chapter and will use it a fourth time before the year is over.

FAVORITE CLOSING LINE FROM A FIC IN 2024 -

Gonna nominate three for that actually, two depressing and one wholesome:

He never learns that the worst injury sustained by the Whalers is a broken ankle from falling out of a transversal when the bond breaks. - The Many Meetings of Death and Death chapter 3

The children slept, the adults did not, the warm fireplace threw flickering shadows on the wall, and for a while happiness reigned in Dunwall Tower. - The Height of Friendship

You have to succeed, so you don't care, you don't think, you don't feel, you simply stay silent and unseen, a shadow haunting the Tower, a ghost of past happiness who would suffocate the lies now living where your heart used to be. - The Words We Speak

FIC I’M MOST PROUD OF IN 2024 -

Man thats hard. I guess I'll say The Many Meetings of Death and Death? Mostly cause its a multi chapter fic and I am so close to actually finishing it, which is special for me. I do like the The Many Conquests of Daud though, I need to do more explicitely ace stories. I will defend this canonically ace character with my life, i need to fill this tag more.

NEW THINGS I HAVE TRIED IN 2024 -

Dishonored fanfic. Other than that like I said I finally started doing another proper multi chapter fic that I am not leaving out to dry like my poor Readceras children who have been waiting for like four years for an update, oops.

GOALS FOR 2025 -

I will continue writing Dishonored fic. Probably for 2 at this point then. Also I really need to write the second half of that two parter I started (They Had to Die) which I absolutely will do I'm just not sure if I can do it this year still. At latest in january I should be done, I was just bewitched by the existence of Daud.

I also, as stated, need to fill up the ace Daud tag, it is my holy calling, there's not nearly enough in there.

[theladyofbloodshed]

A Court of Tangled Flames - Chapter 26

Home. How could one little word mean so much? Each time that Nesta’s heart beat, it was a call to home. To the man she loved. To the place she’d chosen. Home.

She wanted to go home.

Rovena had seen her to a narrow room with walnut wood panelling it. The room was cosy with a bed warmer already tucked into the sheets despite the early hour of the day. A small chest of drawers was nestled into a corner and within it were several items of clean and neatly folded clothing. There were dresses, leggings, night gowns, new socks and gloves. This was a room for a new arrival who likely had nothing. But that wasn’t Nesta. She had everything waiting for her.

She curled onto the bed then tucked the blankets around her head like when Eris had first spirited her away to the Autumn Court and she’d struggled to get out of bed.

Rovena padded into the room softly then Nesta heard her set down another mug. A hand brushed against the mound that was her body beneath the quilt, but Azriel’s mother didn’t try to peel it away. Nesta was thankful for that.

For a long while, Nesta debated winnowing, but she knew it was foolish. Her winnowing was always done with the safety net of Eris following in case anything went wrong. She knew her limits and knew that she might only get as far as the Dawn Court if she was lucky – and would need to rest. The last thing Nesta wanted was to end up in a foreign place alone and weak, or even in the Middle again. Compared to Cassian as her mate, she’d take a kelpie drowning her though.

The thought of being near Eris and putting him in danger made her want to sob anew. Cassian wouldn’t accept her refusal. He’d continue to claim that Nesta was bewitched by Eris or held in the Autumn Court against her will. If he called the Blood Duel, there could be no happy ending. If Cassian died, the Night Court might declare war or at the very least, Nesta would never be permitted to see her sisters again. The other outcome didn’t bear thinking about. There could be no future without Eris.

Worse than Cassian, was Beron. A Blood Duel made her sick to her stomach but Beron finding out about that wretched bond added a new layer of horror to it.

Every inhale felt fluttery with the fear that was running rampant through her mind.

If anybody other than Nesta told Eris about the bond snapping, he’d be bereft. The thought of Cassian being the one to do it – to throw it at him in a rage to try and hurt him – made her sick to her stomach. She needed to see him.

With every passing year, Nesta had built her fortress a little higher, brick by brick. Many had tried to knock it down and force their way in. Eris had simply knocked on the door and waited. Or, that one time at Orla’s, he had climbed through the window, she supposed.

She just wanted to be home. She wanted her husband.

***

‘You cannot keep me from my mate.’

Varian sported a bloodied lip and Mor’s cheeks were blotted with colour when Rhys arrived. He was thankful that his mate was safe elsewhere in the city. His first reaction had been to get Feyre to the House of Wind out of reach of Cassian. He didn’t truly believe his brother would hurt Feyre, but they were two males on the edge and Rhys wasn’t about to roll the dice and expect luck not to curse them.

‘I can and I will.’

‘This is bullshit,’ Cassian spat.

He was all hot temper, usually, easily cooled with the right sort of leverage. Azriel had always been the more dangerous of the two. As quickly as Cassian’s storms came, they passed.

Mating bonds were complicated. There was no other way to describe them. Rhys had sorted through his own feelings alone, in private, and it was hell. Letting Feyre go to Tamlin felt like carving his own heart out – but he believed it was what she wanted, so he did it. He let her go to him.  

If only Cassian could see that Nesta wanted Eris. There was too much bad blood there, too much history with Nesta to let her slip away. It would ruin him. But he would ruin her.

Rhys stood firm, blocking the door. One small mercy was that Cassian couldn’t winnow. His only exit was through flight.  

‘This needs to stop.’

‘Fucking hell, Cass,’ Mor breathed, pushing back her tangled blonde hair. ‘I don’t even like Nesta and I know you’re only going to push her away if you chase her.’

Cassian’s chest rose and fell as he sucked in breaths. It was a testament to Varian’s skill that he still lived against a frenzied general of Illyria. Or maybe there was some sense still clinging onto Cassian’s mind.

Mor rested against the wall. She appeared exhausted from whatever magic she’d exerted keeping him there. She forced out a breath through pursed lips. ‘Just because there’s a bond now, it doesn’t change anything.’

‘What’s that supposed to mean?’ He snarled.

At his tone, Mor flinched. Rhys took a step closer to his cousin, ready to shield her if need be. ‘I think what Mor means is that Nesta is married to Eris. The bond snapping into place doesn’t alter her marriage vows – or her heart, Cass.’

A fist hit the wall and Rhys heard the crunch of Cassian’s knuckles.

‘Eris doesn’t care about her. He only wanted her to get back at us.’

‘You would be better hitting your stone skull at the wall than your knuckle,’ said Amren. Her eyes narrowed as she took in the dent in the wall where his fist had met it. ‘Maybe you’d knock some sense into yourself.’

‘Or knock yourself out,’ Mor muttered.

‘She’s my mate,’ said Cassian, his voice cracking on the last word.

‘And what does that mean?’ Rhys demanded, tired of this. He wanted to be at Feyre’s side. Wanted to feel his son moving against her skin. Not here. Not butting heads with his stubborn brother. ‘What does it mean to be Nesta Archeron’s mate?’

Cassian swallowed. For a while he couldn’t find words then, ‘She should be here with me.’

Shaking his head, Rhys crossed his arms over his chest. ‘I was prepared to let my mate marry my enemy because I thought that would bring her happiness. I loved her enough to let her go.’

‘It’s Eris. You know what he’s like.’ His hazel eyes turned to Mor. ‘You know what he could be doing to her.’

Soft footsteps entered the room. Elain stayed near the doorway, her delicate hands wringing together. ‘Is there a way you could show them something in my mind?’

In response, Rhys gave a slow nod. This could be a catastrophe.

Elain had no mental shields really. It was like slicing through butter on a hot day. Where her elder sister’s mind had been a stronghold made of wrought iron, Elain’s mind was a meadow on a spring day full of wildflowers – open and unguarded. A memory pushed to the surface which Rhys pressed into the minds of everybody gathered.

Nesta sat in a chair with a large dog wedged in with her. A plate was held aloft to keep it from the dog and her other hand fussed the beast. Perched on the arm of the chair was Eris, with an arm scooped around Nesta. He leaned forwards to kiss her temple then pressed a cup to her lips so she could take a drink. It was the day that Azriel had took Elain to meet the healer of the Autumn Court, Rhys realised. Nesta appeared more relaxed than he’d ever seen her before as she leant closer to Eris. In five hundred years, he had never seen the heir to the Autumn Court so gentle. Eris always touched Nesta as though he couldn’t stop himself from stroking against her hair or resting a hand on her shoulder. And Nesta burrowed into every soft touch.

They were pulled out of the memory.

Elain’s face betrayed her fear, but she held firm. ‘I am sorry, Cassian. Nesta is not under an enchantment. I don’t think there could be any enchantment that would sway her feelings. Eris has only ever been good to her. He ensures her friends can visit. He’s found a way to save Feyre. He managed to arrange a meeting with me and her at the Winter Court celebration. He trains her magic. He hired a tutor to teach her about Prythian. She’s learning to ride a horse. She visits the army with him.’ Elain let out a breath. ‘I wish my sister remained close by, but we have to accept her happiness lies elsewhere.’

***

‘One night. One night. That’s what you said. It’s only one night. The longest night of the year and look what has happened,’ Eris ranted in Orla’s kitchen.

Niamh rolled her eyes. She’d been pulled back from Windhaven. ‘In fairness, it seems to have happened during breakfast so the night wasn’t the issue.’

Do not kill her, a voice in Eris’ mind said.

Orla shook her head. ‘That was not helpful, Niamh.’

‘Helpful? Fine. Tell them that unless the bond is broken, the high lady can die.’

Orla’s eyes went wide at her sister’s suggestion. Where one was soft and encouraged growth, the other preferred to stamp on it. ‘What a horrid thing to say, Niamh.’

‘I am horrid,’ she muttered, crossing her legs on the foot rest.  

‘We need contingency plans for every possible outcome.’ Eris hadn’t been able to sit down since he returned to the Autumn Court. He’d set fire to Orla’s lawn when he winnowed in. He was not in the habit of taking orders from Rhysand, but the high lord had told him to wait at the healer’s house and when he tracked down Nesta, she would be returned.

Niamh was ruthless. Orla was sensible. They’d dragged Ashur back from the Illyrian foothills too to help with planning. Although he’d been an excellent double over the years, Eris didn’t want to sacrifice Asher and place him in Cassian’s path either. His military strategy was useful to their planning.

For hours, they planned for every possible outcome of the next few weeks. Through it all, Niamh scoffed and scoffed at whatever she could find in the kitchen, but Eris could not eat a bite. He couldn’t sit, could barely breathe without his chest constricting with worry over Nesta. Where had their damn shadow singer taken her?

A Blood Duel seemed likely if the bastard was as frenzied as his high lord claimed. He didn’t want to fight. Either outcome caused harm to Nesta. Eris’ only hope with that avenue was that his father wouldn’t allow it because Cassian wasn’t high fae and didn’t have the same status in the Autumn Court.

‘What if you shared Nesta?’

‘Niamh,’ Orla warned.

Every single visit to the Night Court would be overshadowed by Cassian’s presence. What could Eris do? Ban her from visiting her family in case the bond became too difficult to refuse? Or send her there willingly with the knowledge that Cassian would always desire her?

‘It won’t come to war. The high lord won’t waste our blood against Illyrians.’ A crease had formed between Ashur’s brow. ‘Not for love. Maybe a showcase of Nesta’s powers again to your father is necessary, to remind him of her value.’

Eris’ jaw tensed. He knew Ashur spoke the truth. His father equated power with value – but he couldn’t trot Nesta out like a show pony to gain favour.

‘I’d rather she killed him and made me high lord,’ he muttered. Such words were treason, but he was amongst good company.

‘How are you so certain Nesta doesn’t want to be his mate?’

She wouldn’t. Eris knew his wife. She deserved so much more than a male who’d never put her first, who’d chose her sister over her. Again, a voice told him not to kill Niamh.

Orla had been quiet through most of it as she prepared different ointments using herbs from her garden. ‘I can mask the bond for Nesta. I’ve done it before for females who want it numbed so they cannot feel it.’

‘Why is nobody listening to me?’ Niamh asked with a mouthful of food.

‘Because you have terrible ideas,’ sniped Ashur.

‘We don’t know where Nesta is. What if she is contemplating accepting the bond – then what do we do? We need to consider that too because maybe then your father really will go to war to get Nesta back. I’m not dying on Illyrian soil.’

Ashur snorted. ‘Females aren’t permitted to fight so that’s unlikely to happen.’

In response, Niamh clicked her tongue. ‘Excuse me? Our lord and saviour, Eris Vanserra has already proposed in a council meeting that females should join the ranks of guards and soldiers because we are automatically cutting our potential by half, I will have you know.’

‘Enough of this.’ Eris stormed from the room with the weight of the world pressing on his shoulders. He continued out of the house, needing to feel the cold evening air on his skin before he erupted. His temper had never been an issue. Years with Beron had taught him to keep it leashed. But Eris had never had anything he cared so much about before. 

The smoke hounds had bolted out with him and proceeded to race around the garden, chasing after moths.

He took steadying breaths to ground himself back to his home.

The door opened, allowing a crack of light to seep out, as Orla came to stand by his side.

Without a word, she pulled her arms around him. Eris sank into her soft embrace. ‘I can’t imagine how this is for you.’

‘I need to know she’s safe.’

‘I know,’ she murmured. A long beat of silence followed, then she said, ‘Your father would have been better chopping out Niamh’s tongue rather than a finger.’

Mist soaked over the grass like a wave then the smoke hounds returned to Eris, their ears pricked up and hackles raised. He pulled an arm around Orla, to tuck her behind him.

Two winged figures appeared.

Behind one was his wife.

 Nesta.

She surged forwards and he raced to meet her. When their skin met, Eris lifted Nesta into his arms, cradling her to his body.

A rattled sob broke out of her chest.

‘Eris. Eris, I need to tell you something.’ She took in a shuddering breath. ‘Cassian is. He’s my-’

‘I know. I know. I already know.’

She let out a keening cry against his skin as Eris carried her back towards the house. The two males followed behind, but he didn’t care. All that mattered was that Nesta was home. And he’d be damned if he was ever letting her step foot in the Night Court again without him.

‘Eris,’ came Rhysand’s voice.

He turned on the spot, cradling Nesta’s head with his hand.

‘You should go to your safe place. I’ve tried to talk sense into him, but I don’t know how long it will last.’

‘Get out of my court.’

Eris ushered Orla inside with him and the dogs remained on their heels. He didn’t care to wait to ensure Azriel and Rhysand had departed. In his mood, he might try to strike them with his magic.

A silence fell between Ashur and Niamh upon their entry to the lounge. Nesta was unable to peel her tear-stained face away from Eris – and if he was honest, he didn’t want her to. He needed her closeness.

‘Do you go to the cottage?’ Niamh asked.

Batten down the hatches and wait for the storm to blow over.

‘No. We go to the Forest House.’

A small gasp passed through Nesta’s lips. ‘If Cassian goes there-’

‘And we are not there, it will be far worse for us – and maybe him. My father is predictable. He cares only for power. I’d rather bet on him than an unstable Illyrian general.’ Eris pulled his coat from the hook and put it on his wife. ‘Better the devil we know than the devil we don’t.’ 

***

The moment they entered their rooms, Nesta tried to peel off her clothes and Eris’ but he wouldn’t have it. He kept his hands on her shoulders, holding her still.

‘You don’t need to do this.’

‘But I love you,’ she sniffed. ‘Please.’

Again, her fingers reached for him to try and open the buttons of his shirt, but Eris stopped her.

‘You don’t need to prove you love me by giving me your body, Nesta.’

She swallowed against the lump in her throat.

A feather-light kiss was pressed to her forehead. ‘Despite everything, how was the celebration?’

‘Fine. I spent most of the evening with Lucien.’

That brought a slight smile to his face then Eris laced his fingers with hers. It was odd to try and carve some normality after a day that was anything but normal. ‘I know you don’t celebrate, but I do have a Solstice gift for you.’

Eris led her through their bedroom and out onto the small balcony overlooking a thundering river wending through the forest.

He bent down towards a small, wooden cage then scooped up a ball of brown fur into his arms.

‘Astor caught the mother then was raiding the warren. I stopped him before he could eat this one.’ A small rabbit was tucked into the crook of Eris’ elbow. ‘I couldn’t shake the image of you as a child with a pet rabbit. He’s little so I’m not sure how long he will last, but it’s surely better to be in our care than to leave it to fend for itself in the woods.’

Nesta ran a finger along the soft fur between the rabbit’s eyes. ‘Won’t the dogs eat it?’

‘They can be trained not to touch him in the rooms. Would you like to hold him?’

Suddenly, Nesta was a little girl again sat on a wooden chair as a servant tucked an old blanket onto her lap then placed Snowdrop on top. One hand held the rabbit still, feeling its rapid heartbeat as it grew used to contact. The other hand moved in soothing strokes down his body.

‘A snow themed name for this brown rabbit?’

Nesta swallowed. ‘How can you be so calm? So normal?’

Eris crouched down in front of her. His arms went around Safera as the dog leaned forwards to sniff the rabbit. She didn’t try anything. Just watched the rabbit with her big, black eyes.

‘I loved you yesterday. I love you today. Nothing has changed.’

‘Everything has changed.’

‘Do you still love me?’

‘Yes,’ she breathed.

‘Then nothing has changed.’

'The bond.'

Eris brushed his thumb down her cheek. 'We don't need to talk about it today.'

The knock at the door had Nesta clutching the rabbit against her chest. Eris’ brow furrowed as he rose to his feet. It was surely a messenger alerting them that Cassian had kicked down the door to the Forest House and demanded a Blood Duel. Her heart felt like it was giving up.

She couldn’t hear the words that were exchanged. Nesta kept her eyes trained on Eris’ back, searching for any slight hints of tension or alteration to his posture. None came.

‘We are expected to join my father for dinner.’

At the first signs of her distress, Eris had gone to his knees before her. His expression was calm. ‘It’s alright,’ he said softly. ‘Everything will be alright. He enjoys a monthly dinner to instil a little fear.’ A long finger stroked the rabbit. It made her think of the little boy from his mother’s memory, clutching a dog to his chest, unwilling to see it hurt. ‘Snowflake or snowball or snowdrift. What have you decided?’

A quiet smile curved Nesta’s lips. ‘Cotton-tail.’

For a while longer, she sat with her frightened rabbit. The dogs kept casting furtive looks at it, but a strong note of disapproval from Eris had them flopping to the ground to sleep. While she continued stroking the bunny, Eris prepared her clothes for the evening. They played it safe in scorched umber and gold. Eris had even pinned up her hair while she remained rhythmically stroking Cotton-tail, too adrift to think of anything else.

Females were meant to be submissive in this court – and for once Nesta was thankful of that fact. It meant she could follow Eris a step behind. She wasn’t meant to speak unless somebody directly spoke to her. She could focus all of her efforts on keeping her face neutral rather than let the sinking horror settle.

Breakfast played over and over in her mind. How had it only been one day? When Azriel had returned for her, he’d brought the news that they had to make a stop at the Hewn City to meet Rhys because he’d return her to the Autumn Court. Nesta had refused. There was not a bone in her body that trusted her sister’s mate. The compromise had been that both would take her to Orla’s.

She stood when expected. Ate her tiny morsels of food like the dainty female she was. Kept her eyes trained in her lap rather than following the conversation.

Beron’s comments couldn’t hurt her. The worst had already happened that morning. When he spoke of Eris’ failures, her anger prickled. But her husband did not react. He played the doting son, desperate to win his father’s approval, never calling his criticisms harsh or unfair. Eris knew how to play the long game.

Once he had finished inspecting all of Eris’ imperfections, he moved onto each son in turn. It was excruciating. If this was how Beron treated his sons, she dreaded to think what he might have done if he had a daughter.

Not only were the Vanserras present for tonight’s torture, but many of Beron’s long-standing council members were. Despite the number gathered, conversation was dictated by Beron as if even they were afraid to speak freely in the presence of their high lord. These were the males who Eris did battle against every meeting with his words. These were the males who would stand in his way of ruling if a peaceful death did not meet the high lord.

When the talk shifted into politics, Eris rose. ‘It’s loathsome enough to listen to Lord Vode in a council meeting. To do so in my leisure time would be akin to masochism.’

The remark was met with a tittering of laughter from the males assembled. As Eris tucked his chair beneath the wooden table, Nesta knew to follow suit rather than expect a signal from him with so many eyes upon them.

‘With such a pretty wife, you’d be a fool to choose Lord Vode’s company.’

Another lord added, ‘If she were my wife, I’d be enjoying her company already.’

Eris gave a vicious smile, but kept his tone even. ‘And if your wife was mine, I’d make myself a widower, Lord Oswold.’

The silence that fell around the room reminded them all that Eris Vanserra was the first-born son of Beron. One day, he would be their high lord. His tongue was just as sharp as his father’s.

It was remarkable really that he wasn’t worse, Nesta thought. He could have been more vicious, more ruthless.

Despite her storms battering him, Eris had only ever been steady. He could dig his heels in and hold firm no matter what life threw at him. Centuries as Beron’s son had hardened him against every cruel word, every wound that had cut him had scarred, and Eris had become steady. He’d never needed to shout or rage. He had only ever been Nesta’s anchor.

A warm hand pressed against the small of her back to guide her from the dining room.

They had survived another meal because Eris had been her shield. His calm presence despite the upheaval that swarmed them had kept Nesta rooted.

‘If you haven’t managed to breed her yet, I’ll give her a turn, brother.’

Before Nesta had even registered what had happened, Phelan had fallen from his chair. He was on his knees, screaming in agony. Blood spurted from the jagged stump where his hand had been.

She hadn’t even seen the knife. Eris had moved so quickly. He’d been next to her one moment then looming over Phelan the next as his brother bled across the floor.

Raising her head in shock, Nesta risked a glance to Beron. His wife was pale, her lips pressed together until they’d turned white, but Beron had a fierce look of pride upon his expression.

‘I warned you that I would cut off your hands if you dared touch my wife. Your words are foul enough. Be thankful I leave you with one hand.’

Phelan wept on the ground, clutching the stump of his arm to his chest before the council of the Autumn Court. Nesta had to turn her face away before she was sick from the sight.

She felt Eris’ hand again on her back, giving a gentle push to encourage her feet to move.

‘Finally, my son begins to act like a high lord,’ came Beron’s voice as they began to exit the room.

A short whistle came then one of his dogs moved towards Phelan.

‘Close your eyes,’ came Eris’ urgent whisper as they walked.

It would have been better if Nesta had clamped her hands over her ears. Over Phelan’s sobs, Nesta could make out the crunch and slopping of the smoke hound eating the severed hand. She pressed her hand over her mouth as her stomach rolled. If it wasn’t for Eris’ firm hand pushing against her spine, Nesta might have stopped. But Eris had always ensured she kept going.

In a numb disbelief, Nesta was led to their rooms.

‘Don’t look at me until I’m clean,’ Eris murmured, voice hollow.

She couldn’t help herself. Her eyes were drawn to him the moment he had forbade it. Streaks of blood marred his face. His shirt was soaked crimson. Nesta didn’t miss the emptiness in his expression. She wanted to wrap her arms around him, but it wasn’t right. Eris wouldn’t want her near him with blood on his body.

In silence, she waited on the couch with Safera resting a head in her lap. For a long while, Eris remained in the bathroom without any taps sounding. He needed space. From her. From what he’d done to Phelan. From the court that forced him to be that person. She didn’t know. All she knew was that a pit had opened in her chest and threatened to devour her.  

He had cut off his brother’s hand. It was violent. But his court had to learn that his threats weren’t empty. Nesta didn’t feel differently towards Eris because of it. He did what he had to.  

The steadiness had all been an act for Nesta’s benefit. Her husband’s feelings were as tumultuous as her own but he hid it better. Eris was a riptide ready to drown any who came too close – as Phelan had discovered. A desperation to seek Eliška out surged inside of Nesta. His mother had to know that Eris only did it to protect Nesta; her son wasn’t lost. But it was too dangerous to move within the Forest House alone that night.

When Eris emerged from the bathroom, he gave a lack-lustre stroke to the dogs who flocked to him. Red rimmed his eyes.

She went to him at once.

His forehead pressed to hers as his hands cradled her face. She heard his wearied exhale.

‘I don’t want you to go,’ he choked.

‘I’m not going,’ she protested. ‘I’m never leaving here. Never leaving you.’

‘I’m not a good male, Nesta.’

Nesta forced Eris to look at her. His amber eyes were flecked with darker spots, but they were the same eyes she’d seen that day, staring back at his father with defiance.

‘You are the love of my life. Not even the Mother can prise us apart.’

@owllover123 @rarephloxes @fanboy7794 @sugardoll22 @kitkat-writes-stuff @this-is-rochelle @sv0430 @embersofwildfire

[iamnicodemus]

OH MY GODDDDDDDDDD

this chapter

THIS FUCKING CHAPTER

it's my favorite thus far. So freaking good I can hardly begin to put its excellence into words, and I fear I haven't the mind to do so, so you'll have to do with my gushing.

It's all been culminating to this. The development of their feelings has been masterful and I can't possibly say that enough. Wednesday at her most vulnerable, the revelation about the true nature of feelings between soulmates (for her, at least - the rest of us knew already), the DANCE THE DANCE THE DANCE

It's not humanely possible to write this good. It's compelling beyond belief. The prose is absurdly rich and well worded. This is peak romance writing and I will die on that hill. I will stake that flag and defend it with the same vehemence that Wednesday puts into loving her Flower Girl.

Wednesday gulped, trying to keep her features impassive. “I never wanted her in the first place,” her voice isn’t as strong as she wanted it to be for that line.

Oh Wednesday, like you weren't falling for her well before you figured out she was your soulmate -_-

Feelings have never been easy for her. Enid softens as soon as she hears the melancholic undertone behind Wednesday’s words.

“If I am to-” Wednesday stumbles out, words thick with an emotion she herself can’t name yet, “to love her,” she tries to take a deep breath, but it turns into somewhat of a sob, “I want it to be my choice.”

And there it is. The underlying conflict of this story has been crafted immaculately. It's an excellent depiction of the concept of soulmates and Wednesday's issue with it makes so, so much sense when you consider how fiercely independent she is and ofc how she would balk at the idea of the universe taking command of any part of her destiny.

Everything has been building to this scene. Wednesday all but spelled out why she hates soulmates from the very start, and it is so immensely satisfying to her misconceptions about soulmates be brought to light and corrected - and by Enid, someone who understands Wednesday's little black heart almost like no other.

Wednesday breaks in the form of a single tear sliding down her cheek as a shaky breath comes out. The truthfulness of her own words cutting deep before she even says them; “I want it to be real.”

This is Weds at her most vulnerable, and it's some of the best writing for her I've ever seen.

Seriously, I felt the water building behind my eyes

“just because she’s your soulmate, doesn’t mean you’re gonna love her no matter what, silly.”

OH MY GOD THANK YOU ENIDDDD

Because that was it, wasn’t it? Somewhere along the way, Wednesday had developed feelings for you.

She's finally accepted it

The feeling that you always brought to her chest washed over her, and Wednesday realized that try as she might, it would never go away. You had ruined her, killing her slowly the further away you went; because she knew what bliss it was to have you close even before any cosmic bond came to light. It was the universe that, for some reason, decided that your light complimented her darkness. But maybe, it really could be her choice to call you hers if she wanted to.

Don't you dare ever regard your writing as anything short of brilliance ever again

You were enchanting, bewitching. Wednesday doesn’t see beauty in this doomed world too often, but she seems to always find it in you. And it’s a realization that could be the death of her. But she does. She does want to call you hers.

I can't-

I'm gonna end up quoting everything, aren't I?

I just-

Flower Girl fell first, but Wednesday fell harder.

Weems walked away and Wednesday paid her no mind, because she was suddenly underwater, the more she tried to gasp for air, the more her chest tightened. She was drowning, slowly sinking, going down and down and it’s all your fault.

Oh, I'm familiar with this feeling and damn do you describe it so perfectly. It's almost painful to read.

Because you’re hers. Not his. Not anyone else’s. Your touch doesn’t belong to him, your smile doesn’t belong to him. It belongs to her.

SHE'S CLAIMED HER

SHE'S CLAIMED HER

like, can u imagine Wednesday deciding that your smile, your touch, is reserved for her and her alone? I would melt and never recover. Hell, I'm not sure I'm gonna recover from this

She has her dark hair up, only a few rogue wisps framing her face; the black dress she wears fits her body to perfection; there’s light makeup shaping her eyes and the outline of her lips, it’s a darker shade of burgundy than what she normally uses, you think for a moment about how many times you’d have to kiss her for it to wear off. She’s hauntingly beautiful, and you think you should be breathing but your brain seems to have forgotten how.

mmmmmmm this whole paragraph. But this line especially:

you think for a moment about how many times you’d have to kiss her for it to wear off

sigh

You glanced back at Andrew, silently asking if this was okay, to which he responded with a kind nod

Andrew, I like you. You seem a nice boy. You'll find someone, someday

it was dangerous how well her hand fit with yours though, almost as if they belonged. Touche.

my heart 😭

this story will be the death of me

“This is me trying to tell you that… though it is true that I never wanted to have a soulmate, it was before I knew it was you.”

The fact that Flower Girl basically rocked her worldview-

this is so unbelievably sweet I can't-

But Wednesday’s breathing fanning over your lips was worryingly unstable, her eyes couldn’t find a place to focus on you, and her hand had a death grip on yours. This scared her. Being this vulnerable, it terrified her. 

she's just a precious lil raven

You had your eyes on the sky, appreciating how the usual blue took on shades of orange, pink, and purple; clouds highlighted by the strong colors.

as per usual, your descriptive abilities are elite

The glass doors of the greenhouse opened with a creak and you breathed in the familiar scent of flowers and freshly watered dirt. It was so quiet you could hear the fluttering of the wings of the wandering butterflies if you focused enough. Some lingering rays of sun still managed to seep through the glass walls, molding shadows from the leaves around you.

ELITE DESCRIPTIVE ABILITIES

no seriously how tf do you do this

i love love love how your mind works

allowing your fingers to run over its petals and give it just a tad more color. “Oh this won’t do at all,” you grumbled, placing your hands around it, careful to not touch the spikes. The yellowish tone went away, being replaced by a vivid green that got you smiling Picking up an empty pot and filling it with fresh soil, you placed the seeds on top, easily making them grow and bloom into beautiful purple flowers

Shout out to Flower Girl for having one of the coolest powers ever

Burying your fingers on the rich soil, you found the perfect place for the last flowers to go in. And with a press of your fingers, they bloomed. Dark petals standing out amidst the sea of colors. You could see them becoming your favorite.

Is this story my soulmate? I love it so much, it must be, right?

Then again, I suppose that assumption would be missing the whole point :)

This was outstanding. As I said previously, my favorite chapter thus far. And we've got more to go yessssss

sweet calamity | ch 7

Wednesday Addams x Reader

Series Summary: It was something people described as the sweetest pain, the feeling of when the soul that’s destined to find yours is closer to you. Wednesday saw it as a curse, promised herself she would hate whoever was chosen for her; but it’s easier said than done.

A/N: This chapter was going to be even longer, but in the end, I thought it was best to split it into two, next chapter should be out as soon as I'm done writing it. Anyway, Wednesday is head over heels in love and I'm not even sorry for it.

Masterlist | Read ch 6 here

Saturday's sun set to what seemed to be an ordinary night, but it was nothing of the sort.

Principal Weems could be seen speed-walking from one side of the big ballroom to another, gesturing wildly to where the fairy lights should actually be placed because someone — Xavier — got her instructions wrong.

The school was royally decorated to the nines; golden lights and a few wooden ornaments contrasting with the white tablecloths set the theme for this year's Rave'n. There were sweet flower arrangements on top of each table too, kindly made by you when Weems told you she wanted something that resembled a new beginning. Everything was ready to receive the students and their plus ones.

While everyone was getting ready, Wednesday sat in front of her typewriter, the sharp sounds of each letter she pressed resonating through the dorm room.

Since last weekend, Wednesday has been dedicating extra time to her writing. It meant she was either really inspired or frustrated, and from the permanent scowl on her face, Enid assumed it was the latter.

The werewolf stood in front of her mirror, her manicured hands adjusting the last details of her white velvet dress to perfection.

"Wednesday?" She started, shooting a side-eyed glance to the back of her roommate's head, "aren't you gonna get ready?"

The typing halted for half a second before it resumed again, "I won't be going."

Enid frowned at her reflection, tucking her hair behind her ears before stepping away. Her heels thudded against the wooden floor as she walked up to Wednesday. "What do you mean you're not going?" She asked as if the mere idea was absurd.

"That I am not going," Wednesday responded sharply, her eyes fixed on her writing.

If this was about anything else, Enid would've dropped it, she knew better than to test Wednesday's patience. But she has been seeing firsthand just how much your absence is affecting Wednesday — and herself, consequently, because living with a moody Addams could be considered torture — even if the girl herself still refuses to admit it.

"So you're giving up?" Enid placed both hands on her hips, knowing very well that her words would get a reaction out of Wednesday. "Just like that?"

Wednesday's frown deepened and she hastily got up from her chair, making it scratch the floor. "I'm not giving up on anything, I never give up."

"You're giving up on your soulmate." Enid dared say.

Wednesday's eyes widened the slightest bit, her posture going rigid. So Enid knows. She didn't know if it was you who told her or if Enid figured it out on her own, but either way, she knew the werewolf would figure it out sooner or later.

Wednesday gulped, trying to keep her features impassive. "I never wanted her in the first place," her voice isn't as strong as she wanted it to be for that line. Wednesday turns around and walks away to look out her window, far down, she could see students already making their way inside the ballroom.

Feelings have never been easy for her. Enid softens as soon as she hears the melancholic undertone behind Wednesday's words.

"But you do now, don't you?" It's not necessarily a question, Enid already knows the answer.

And because of that, Wednesday doesn't say anything. Though her silence is answer enough in its own way.

"You don't need to beat yourself up for it, Wednesday," Enid continues, "it's not a bad thing to have feelings for someone, I mean she is your soulmate."

"That's the problem, Enid!" Wednesday snaps, turning around and taking a few steps closer with urgency.

There's a glistening to Wednesday's eyes that Enid has never seen there before, it gets her own words stuck.

"If I am to-" Wednesday stumbles out, words thick with an emotion she herself can't name yet, "to love her," she tries to take a deep breath, but it turns into somewhat of a sob, "I want it to be my choice."

Wednesday blinks away whatever tears were trying to escape her, "and not some cosmic force pushing us together," she closes her lips in a flat line, the outline of her eyes and the tip of her nose becoming reddish the more she holds everything you've ever made her feel.

She's fighting against herself, against her own heart that beats erratically in her chest. And it was a losing battle from the start.

Wednesday breaks in the form of a single tear sliding down her cheek as a shaky breath comes out. The truthfulness of her own words cutting deep before she even says them; "I want it to be real."

A beat of silence passed and Wednesday finally looked up at Enid, only to see tears shaping her friend's smile and starting to ruin her makeup. The Addams girl scoffed, hastily wiping her cheek, "why the hell are you crying?"

Enid shook her head with a teary chuckle, quickly closing the gap between the two. She circled both arms around Wednesday's shoulders, pulling her in with a strong grip, "how can you be so smart and so clueless at the same time?"

Excuse me? Wednesday thought of saying. She didn't return the hug but did rest her head on Enid's shoulder, though there was a confused frown on her features.

Enid pulled back, resting both hands on Wednesday's shoulders to hold her in place, "just because she's your soulmate, doesn't mean you're gonna love her no matter what, silly."

"What are you saying?" Wednesday asks, and it's the most vulnerable Enid has ever seen her be.

It's endearing.

"I mean, sure your souls are linked and most of the time you're predestined to meet, but your feelings are yours," Enid's smile could be felt in her words, she spoke easily, sincerity overflowing her tone, "they're yours, Wednesday. You're not… predestined to have them or whatever, that would be impossible."

Wednesday keeps silent, her hands balled into fists at her side.

"I've heard so many stories of people who met their soulmates and rejected them, or either tried to be together but the spark was never there," Enid kept going and Wednesday realized she was quite the enthusiast. Not really a surprise; she'd kill for a love story, good or bad.

"Just because you're bonded doesn't mean you'll end up together," Enid shrugged, squeezing Wednesday's shoulders once, "as much as I'd love to believe that everyone who meets their soulmate lives happily ever after, that's as much of a media construct as anything else."

"How did I not find anything about it when I looked it up?" Wednesday asked one of the many questions swimming in her mind.

"That's because you're awful with technology," Enid grimaced, gaining a glare from her roommate.

She took a deep breath in as she let go of Wednesday; "the universe might point your person to you, but it doesn't have the power to control your feelings for them. Wednesday, if you do have feelings for her, they're yours. And they're real."

—

It was with careful steps that Wednesday walked down the stairs that lead to the ballroom, her hands smoothed out the fabric of her black dress and she could already hear the party's obnoxious music.

With much reluctance, she had taken Enid's words to heart and decided she owed it to both of you to at least try.

Because that was it, wasn't it? Somewhere along the way, Wednesday had developed feelings for you.

She closed her eyes, nails digging into her palms and almost drawing blood to try and feel anything besides that. To no avail and she knew it.

The ballroom was already filled with people when Wednesday walked in, it was dimly lit with blinking lights all around and questionable drinks.

Her eyes skimmed over the crowd as they always did, finding Enid dragging Ajax to the dancefloor, Bianca trying to get a hold of Xavier, Yoko and Divina doing a poor job of being sneaky when stealing from the snacks table, and… you. Wednesday's lips parted in a quiet sigh, the scrunch of her eyebrows softening at last when her eyes finally set on you after what felt like ages.

The feeling that you always brought to her chest washed over her, and Wednesday realized that try as she might, it would never go away. You had ruined her, killing her slowly the further away you went; because she knew what bliss it was to have you close even before any cosmic bond came to light.

It was the universe that, for some reason, decided that your light complimented her darkness. But maybe, it really could be her choice to call you hers if she wanted to.

You had a drink in your hands and a smile on your glossy lips — a smile that's directed at a certain boy but Wednesday doesn't think about that. The dress you wore was a dark shade of purple, almost resembling black when the shadows covered your body.

You were enchanting, bewitching.

Wednesday doesn't see beauty in this doomed world too often, but she seems to always find it in you.

And it's a realization that could be the death of her. But she does. She does want to call you hers.

She just doesn't know if it's too late for that now or not.

Shaking herself off of her trance, Wednesday makes her way to the drinks table, taking a glass of the blueish beverage. She raised it to her lips and took a generous gulp, grimacing at the sweetness of it.

What happens now? Wednesday wonders to herself. What's the next step on this?

Murder mysteries are infinitely easier to solve than dealing with feelings.

"Wednesday," Weems' voice caught her attention. "I'm so glad to see you here."

"I wouldn't miss it for anything," Wednesday stated as she turned to face the principal, her half-full glass held between her fingers, "I can't wait to see what disaster will end tonight's festivities."

Weems chuckles but there's no humor to her tone, "there will be no disasters this year, rest assured."

Wednesday hummed, her gaze focusing behind Larissa's figure to where you were standing; you talked animatedly with Yoko while Andrew had an arm around your shoulders and it made Wednesday grit her teeth, "the night is young still, I can think of a few ideas to make it memorable," she huffed.

"Don't force me to expel you a second time, Miss Addams," Weems warned with a raised brow, but there was a teasing tilt to her tone. She laid a hand on Wednesday's shoulder with a smirk, "enjoy your night."

Weems walked away and Wednesday paid her no mind, because she was suddenly underwater, the more she tried to gasp for air, the more her chest tightened. She was drowning, slowly sinking, going down and down and it's all your fault.

Your hand holds onto Andrew's as he drags you to the dancefloor, silver lights are shaping the curves of your dress as it hugs your body. You're grinning, swaying gently to the song that's playing.

Getting stabbed was way less painful, Wednesday decides, because she could physically feel her heart shattering and it almost made her drop her glass.

Because you're hers. Not his. Not anyone else's.

Your touch doesn't belong to him, your smile doesn't belong to him. It belongs to her.

Her urge is to walk up to you and punch the boy in the face for his audacity. But she refrains — begrudgingly, but she does — for the first time, Wednesday wants to do it right. You deserve as much.

"You can still turn this night around, you know."

Enid had materialized beside Wednesday, taking her by surprise and making her flinch; she curses you for her lack of awareness.

Wednesday scoffed, discarding her drink, "how? She looks sickeningly happy to be dancing with that moron."

Enid bumped Wednesday's shoulder with her own, smiling fondly, "I beg to differ, you don't know how miserable she's been because of you."

It gets Wednesday grimacing, her features falling slightly. "How is that a good thing?" She asks incredulously.

"No, my point is-" Enid shook her head, realizing how badly she had worded her thoughts, "uh I'm pretty sure she would rather it be you and her instead."

Wednesday hesitated, "I wouldn't be opposed," it was quiet, so much so that the music almost muffled the words.

Enid shifted so she was standing in front of Wednesday, blocking her view with a determined look, "then let her know that, ask her for a dance."

"She already has a partner," Wednesday tries weakly, trying to find good reasons to not do it, yet coming out empty.

Enid raises a brow, her eyes shifting to you as the song reaches its last notes. "When did that ever stop you?"

The song ends, and to the many present couple's delights, a slower melody comes in its place.

Your skin is hot and prickly under your dress because of the exertion, it's been a while since you've let loose enough to dance like that. "I could really use a drink," you breathe, pushing your hair behind your ears.

"Sure thing, I'll grab us some," Andrew smiled, his hand going to the small of your back as he leads you to your table before making his way to get the drinks.

You leaned back on the table, your gaze following him for a moment. He's always been nice, and you're thankful to have him with you to take your mind off of things tonight, but try as you might, you can't bring yourself to feel anything for him besides friendly affection. Your heart apparently had already chosen its owner, as much as you wish it hadn't.

Andrew returns, handing you your drink to which you mumble a thank you before taking a much-needed sip. You watch as your friends dance together, dry ice moving with their feet and shaping the lights into something magical. You get lost in it, and in some ways feels like a fairytale.

"Do you still have a dance left for me?"

The sudden voice almost gets you choking on your drink, it's one you'd recognize anywhere and the fluttering in your stomach is nearly instant. You can't decide if you're dreaded or relieved to hear it. You set your glass down, turning to face her.

She has her dark hair up, only a few rogue wisps framing her face; the black dress she wears fits her body to perfection; there's light makeup shaping her eyes and the outline of her lips, it's a darker shade of burgundy than what she normally uses, you think for a moment about how many times you'd have to kiss her for it to wear off. She's hauntingly beautiful, and you think you should be breathing but your brain seems to have forgotten how.

"I thought you said you weren't coming," you managed.

"I wanted to see you," it's a quiet confession from Wednesday, words a little tight because of how much effort it took for her to force them out.

You avoided her eyes, nervously tapping the table with your nails. "Don't do that." You shook your head, "not here, not now."

Wednesday could see your distress and knowing that she was apparently the cause for it brought her considerable discomfort. "Do what?"

An indignant scoff escaped you. You ran your tongue over your bottom lip before looking at her; "you have to stop giving me hope for something that's not there, Wednesday." Your gaze roamed over her face, and the sudden tenderness of Wednesday's eyes was so unfair. "Even torture has a limit," you mumbled.

With an annoyed huff, Wednesday cursed under her breath.

What would it take for you to see that, even if she didn't want it in the beginning, there always has been something there.

It didn't help that Andrew had watchful eyes boring into her. Wednesday wanted this moment to be yours and hers only, yet there's a crowd of people around and a parasite attached to you. Oh, she was hating every second of this.

"Please, I want to-" Wednesday hesitated for a beat, "I do want to try this." She extended a hand for you, praying to a god she didn't believe in that this would be enough for you to see.

Maybe you were a fool, but the soft lights were reflecting against Wednesday's dark eyes, and there was no denying the faltering in your heartbeat; trying to mimic her own, trying to tell you what you already knew. You glanced back at Andrew, silently asking if this was okay, to which he responded with a kind nod, and you took the hand Wednesday had extended to you.

No matter how many times you touched her, your skin would always fill with goosebumps when colliding with hers. Her hold on your hand wasn't light, almost as if you could escape her grasp anytime; it was dangerous how well her hand fit with yours though, almost as if they belonged. Touche.

Wednesday took you to the middle of the dancefloor and turned to you without letting go, placing her free hand on your waist; tugging you closer.

Your own hand hovered before settling on her shoulder. This felt too intimate, like crossing an invisible line with no way back.

When Wednesday started to sway your bodies from side to side, following no particular rhythm, you finally asked; "what is this, Wednesday?"

Wednesday's eyes didn't leave your face, the hand she had on your waist squeezed the fabric of your dress there. Your perfume is clouding her senses, something that reminds her of lavender. You feel warm under her touch, alluring; if she leans closer, and you don't pull away, your noses might brush.

For a fleeting moment, she caught herself wanting to.

Wednesday doesn't get nervous, but the twisting of her stomach was something very close to it. "This is me trying to tell you that… though it is true that I never wanted to have a soulmate, it was before I knew it was you." The words got Wednesday closing her eyes for a moment, she hated saying them; she's awful at this and part of her thinks she's doing a terrible job anyway, but words are what hurt you in the first place so they're the ones that also need to fix this.

"I couldn't hate you even if I wanted to, and it's not because the universe said so, it's because-" Wednesday tried to continue. She felt you squeezing her hand and at the same time that it helped it almost left her speechless. "You make me feel… a way I never did before. And though it's not always pleasant, I don't want it to stop. I want to make it up to you, if you'd let me."

Her eyes lazily glance at your lips, and she dares to intertwine your fingers; "and maybe we could start with this dance."

You could cry. You could kiss her. Part of you wanted to do both. But Wednesday's breathing fanning over your lips was worryingly unstable, her eyes couldn't find a place to focus on you, and her hand had a death grip on yours. This scared her. Being this vulnerable, it terrified her. It was a delicate line you were threading on, but you knew you'd never let go of her.

You settled for tentatively pushing those loose wisps of hair behind her ear, letting your fingertips touch her cheek while doing so; the gentle act spoke volumes for itself. "Okay."

———

Sunday's sun was setting to a peaceful night, everyone was still tired because of last night's partying. Nevermore has never been this quiet.

You had your eyes on the sky, appreciating how the usual blue took on shades of orange, pink, and purple; clouds highlighted by the strong colors. It was nice to have the gardens all for yourself; and as you walked towards the greenhouse, you couldn't help but think about last night.

Did she mean it? Did Wednesday really have feelings for you?

You'd be stupid to say she's lying, considering the toll her own words took on her yesterday.

Only the mere thought of it got your heartbeat skyrocketing and your hands sweating. You wished you could dive in head first into… whatever it was she wanted with you, but what if she's not there to catch you when you fall?

Another blow and your heart just might not make it.

The glass doors of the greenhouse opened with a creak and you breathed in the familiar scent of flowers and freshly watered dirt. It was so quiet you could hear the fluttering of the wings of the wandering butterflies if you focused enough. Some lingering rays of sun still managed to seep through the glass walls, molding shadows from the leaves around you.

Parties were cool, but nothing could compare to this.

Walking inside, you first spotted the familiar little orchid you've been taking care of; "hey, you're looking lovely today, miss," you smiled, allowing your fingers to run over its petals and give it just a tad more color.

It was routine for you to give a once over each plant whenever you were in here alone. As you did so, you slowly made your way to the teacher's desk to find what you came to get.

Passing by a cactus, you had to double-check; the poor thing had been neglected of water. "Oh this won't do at all," you grumbled, placing your hands around it, careful to not touch the spikes. The yellowish tone went away, being replaced by a vivid green that got you smiling; "that's much better, you deserve love too."

Finally reaching the desk, you opened the drawer that contained flower seeds yet to be planted. You sorted through the name tags until you found the one you came for. "Gotcha," you whispered, biting your lip as you stashed the seeds in your pocket.

"Y/N!"

The sudden call of your name almost got your soul leaving your body with the way you jumped. You placed a hand over your racing heart, looking up at the culprit.

"Holy shit, Eugene, you almost gave me a heart attack," you exclaimed.

The boy chuckled, raising his hands in surrender, "sorry, wasn't my intention, I'm just glad I found you."

You pushed close the drawer and walked around the wooden desk, stuffing your hands in your hoodie's pockets. Cold, and no gloves again. Very smart.

"What's up?"

"So, I actually came here looking for those lavender flowers you got me last time," Eugene adjusted his glasses, a sly grin coming to his face, "but since you're here, maybe you could grow some for me?"

You smirked, turning around to grab the seeds for him, "so the bees liked them?"

"They loved it, you have no idea how much," he told you excitedly, gesturing around, "even the new ones I rescued are looking chipper already."

Picking up an empty pot and filling it with fresh soil, you placed the seeds on top, easily making them grow and bloom into beautiful purple flowers. "I'm glad they did," you then handed it to him and made to walk outside.

"Thanks, you're awesome," he told you, truly meaning it, he stopped outside as you closed the greenhouse doors.

You shook your head and waved off his compliment, "it's nothing, really, I'm here whenever you need."

Eugene turned to go to his bee shed and you to the quad, but before you went too far, he called out again.

"Oh and, Wednesday was asking about you."

It got you stopping in your tracks, your cheeks instantly warming up, "she was?"

"Yeah," the boy nodded, his eyebrows furrowed as he remembered it, "I think she wanted to see you," he shrugged and waved you goodbye; "thanks again."

"Yeah, no problem," you mumbled, though he couldn't hear you anymore. The thought of Wednesday actively looking for you got your skin filled with goosebumps, maybe you'd find a way to go see her without being painfully obvious.

Reaching the quad, you kneeled down in front of the flowerbed you'd been renovating for the past few weeks. Various flowers were already in place, their colors mingling with each other nicely, one complementing the other; all around a big maple tree you managed to grow in the middle. It took a lot of energy from you and you could still remember the metallic taste of blood on your lips, but it was worth it; the tree was divine.

Burying your fingers on the rich soil, you found the perfect place for the last flowers to go in. And with a press of your fingers, they bloomed. Dark petals standing out amidst the sea of colors.

You could see them becoming your favorite.

⋆* ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

Read ch 8 here

Thank you for reading this little story. Feedback and reblogs are literally what keep me motivated to continue posting here, so I'd appreciate it if you could take some time to reblog and comment if you want. <3

Wednesday’s taglist: @milkiane @bookfrog242 @heelaechan @imagine-reblog @simp4wanda26 @sakurarukas @bluetreecloud20 @the-night-owl-blr @imlike-so-gaydude @user284747 @dreifhraniquo29 @emeraldevan @simp4nat @boobabietch @impossibleliv1031 @deadpool-in-a-snood @rainbow-love4ever @maria-403 @pompompuri @halleest @wandaromanova @marveloussimp @rainbow-hedgehog @left-and-right-up-and-down @get-the-fuck-outta-here @awolfcsworld @elduster @alexkolax @georgi-salva @imdumbhi @youralphawolf72 @reginassweetheart @justyourwritter69 @yangsroboarmm @8e-h-e8 @irish-piece-of-trash @femalehomosexual666 @wol-fica

[corvidamned]

@manufactoredxbyxdesign | continued Man of science. When did he ever care about what's natural? Blooming cruel or turned that way… Rolling her ankle back into place from the fall, she braces herself for this approach, synapses surging for a way to delay his strike. "There is a different story of a frog. Legendary compared to your fable." Sharp vermillion eyes gaze up at him. She blows a stray strand out of the way of her eyes. There was straw and wood chips in her hair. Hand at the level of her eye, she commanded his attention. "Once upon a time, there was a princess, proud and spoiled, the only daughter of the kingdom in power. She was gifted a golden ball, a symbol of her birthright. But it fell from her grasp! Just out of reach…Down into the pond. Now this pond was no ordinary puddle. The waters were deep enough to drown and it was home to many herons that hunted the frog population to their satisfaction." She flinches, and yips, straightening her posture high, and telling the story a little faster. "One small frog, a pleasant green, approached where the Princess knelt, and without word or negotiation, looked to the Princess and her hesitant curiosity, and dove into the dark waters. There was nothing to see, but the ball had an odd shape to it that lended to his ability to drag it to the surface, despite its weight in gold. The frog made it to the surface and suffered from severe oxygen deprivation and exhaustion. It collapsed and died for the Princess." Backed up against the dirt, Kira came to the catharsis, speaking carefully as her father might have told it. "The ball the frog thought was but a child's plaything, was the Sovereign's Orb. Irreplaceable. In her gratitude, the girl wept and mourned the frog, and placed a kiss on its head. True love's first kiss revived it, and transformed it into a prince. The young prince of the neighboring kingdom who had gone missing when a witch bewitched him for being just as proud and careless." Whatever the outcome, she sought to meet his eyes as she concluded, "In the end, he wanted nothing more than her friendship, but years of friendship and trust forged an unbreakable bond and an alliance between two great kingdoms. As they came of age, they married and lived happily ever after."

[thegodshavestring]

WITCHCRAFT 🧹 the magic of the valley

___________________________________________

To answer your questions about is witchcraft real?

First, question,are witches real? Jesus Christ said said generation who bewitched you...the three wise men were witches, job was a witch and these are as close as I can get to describing a witch to the question...how are witches created? witches are not created they're born just like everyone else but in the bloodline of centuries of dwelling they are born into flesh and blood, a witch baby will be surrounded by angels and demons in the gathering,to make it simple the temple of a witch is neutral ground for spirits,they have favor in this witch baby as a communicator...are witches good or evil? again a witch is neutral ground for spirits, what ever craft the witch practice,that is the craft the witch created,most witches are not what you see in the movies,most witches practice health and nutrition for the temple..can witches float, unfortunately the answer is yes,but it is only for exercise of power to trust the spirits and to bond with the spirits,this exercise is where the witch lay flat on his/her back and the spirit or spirits will raise the witch up off the floor,I have done this witch exercise many times,this exercise can not be done standing, sitting,or face down.this exercise is a trust exercise between the witch and the spirits, simply saying I will not forsake you and I will not forsake you clean or unclean, why? Because the witch is a communicator,and faith is bond no matter who the messengers are,the message must be delivered..angels are messengers and so are the fallen angels...

Many years ago people thought if you drowned a witch in water and the body did not float that person was a witch, people in history would hang some one from a roof top if they thought that person was a witch then burn them alive, this is where the word witch hunt come from..all this superstition about witches will give you the truth here at 'the gods have string blog show'... how do you know if you were born a witch baby? two things, one,do you believe in the creator of the universe and second,can you make anything happen, anything like what?, anything..and if you answered yes to both of those questions then you were born a witch baby...can someone tell another witch from another witch?..yes and no, a witch is a witch that practice a craft of communication with the spirits, this means if the witch is practicing the craft for evil then maybe the other witch will be told by the spirits...can a witch go to church?,yes...can a witch be processed by evil spirits? no, the temple of a witch is neutral ground,the dirt of this body,the clay of this body is forbidden to be occupied,this means on the witch death bed the witch may choose heaven or hell by the will and choice..are witches and warlocks the same? a witch is a witch male or female, warlock is just another word to give a description of male or female but a witch can be male or female..can a witch cast a spell on someone? yes,a witch can make anything happen, according to the power of his/her faith..are witches ugly?..the only difference between a normal human being baby and a baby that was born a witch,is that it was born with the gift of communication of the spirit to be loved by good and evil in the spirit world.

___________________________________________

[lalunanymph]

hey dawn!! <33 i saw ur #dawn.🕹️ can i request the “I think I’m falling in love with you.” “I think I’m okay with that.” prompt w/ naoya zenin? 🥺💗 I REALLY LOVE YOUR WRITINGS BTW (ESP BEWITCHED SJSJSK YOU ARE GOD SENT, THAT SERIES WAS SO GOOD)

fghj thank you i appreciate ur sweet words <3 🥺

cw. suggestive content, fluff, mentions of arranged marriages, modern!AU

pairing. naoya zen’in x reader

The morning found you on your back, panting heavily with sweat dripping down your face and your husband grinning down at you. With his two-toned hair and larger build, it was beyond easy for him to pin you down to the sparring mat, trapping you against his sweaty, bare chest and the hard ground.

"You've gotten better," he murmured begrudgingly, pushing one stray lock from your face. "Perhaps on a level of a second grade now."

Ignoring his jab, you pushed him off you and gave him a glare. In retaliation, he reached out and gripped your hand, spinning you around and draping you upon his chest. Nose crinkling in mild disgust at how you two were in a desperate need of a shower, you attempted to manoeuvre from his hold.

But, proving his strength for the umpteenth time, he merely held you closer, nose buried in your hair. 

“Do not move away from me, wife.”

Despite being married for close to a year, this was the closest you had ever been to your husband. While a sacred bond such as marriage should guarantee a certain degree of closeness, it was due to its arranged nature that made simple touches like hand holding or hugging cumbersome. 

But after nights spent sleeping by his side, sparring together with him and eventually moving on to waking up wrapped in each other’s arms, the barrier of touch was slowly weakening. 

As a man of the house and the head of the Zen’in clan, Naoya deserved a certain level of respect; a bowed head, averted gazes and three steps behind as befitting as your status of his wife. Here with you, where you were astride him—it was the furthest to the supposed decorum that had been drilled into you to be maintained. 

Gazing into his eyes, you allowed yourself to be swept away by the hazel tides and eventually drown in them. 

“I think I’m in love with you.” 

There was no hesitation when you retorted, “I think I’m okay with that.” 

Your husband arched one perfect brow at your blasé countering to his heavy admission. 

“You think you’re okay with that?” 

Nodding, you leaned forward, pressing your lips to his forehead, murmuring against the salt of his skin. “I’m more than okay with that—I’ve been waiting to hear those words from you, my husband. I love you, too.” 

A short grunt and he raised his head to meet your lips fully, whispering, “I love you so much, Y/N.” 

© all works belong to lalunanymph

[matchamorphosis]

𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐑𝐘 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐂𝐊: 𝒑𝒐𝒎𝒆𝒈𝒓𝒂𝒏𝒂𝒕𝒆 𝒌𝒊𝒔𝒔𝒆𝒔

━━━━━➛ “𝐼’𝑚 𝑛𝑜𝑡 𝑛𝑜 𝑙𝑜𝑣𝑒 𝑠𝑝𝑒𝑐𝑖𝑎𝑙𝑖𝑠𝑡 𝑏𝑢𝑡 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑑𝑎𝑚𝑛 𝑤𝑒𝑙𝑙 𝑝𝑢𝑡 𝑎 𝑠𝑝𝑒𝑙𝑙 𝑜𝑛 𝑚𝑦 ℎ𝑒𝑎𝑟𝑡 𝑤𝑖𝑡ℎ 𝑦𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝑘𝑖𝑠𝑠. 𝐼 𝑐𝑎𝑛 𝑠𝑡𝑖𝑙𝑙 𝑡𝑎𝑠𝑡𝑒 𝑦𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝑙𝑖𝑝𝑠.”

𝑠𝑢𝑚𝑚𝑎𝑟𝑦 — a night that was once memorial to dirty dancing is now memorable as you dance with two lovesick strangers.

𝑔𝑒𝑛𝑟𝑒 — smut & angst ↬ part one.

𝑝𝑎𝑖𝑟𝑖𝑛𝑔 — ari levinson × clay appuzzo + ari levinson × fem!reader + clay appuzzo × fem!reader

𝑤𝑎𝑟𝑛𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑠 — 18+ nsfw || reader is 21 and ari & clay are 42. reader is a part-time stripper + cafe waitress, ari is an erotic novelist and clay is a nude photographer. falling in love with strangers. sexual remarks and teasing. alcohol mention. minors dni.

𝑤.𝑛𝑜𝑡𝑒 — hello so this pairing of mine have been on my mind for so long and I just had to write it. hope you cherubs heed the warnings and enjoy reading! 🍒 part two is coming this Sunday!

𝑐𝑜𝑛𝑡𝑒𝑛𝑡𝑠 — part one > part two. masterlist. library acc. taglist.

Beautiful. Dangerous. Addicting.

Ari Levinson’s lustful thoughts thunder as his candy red tongue licks your glossy folds torturously slow, ravishing in the artful way your back rises in a poetic arc as an airy whine falls from your mouth.

Bewitching. Wicked. Perfect.

Clay Appuzzo’s head carnally rasps, his rosy-pink lips bruised from crashing them against his brunette lover that takes each deep thrust he gives him while his olive eyes lock with yours that watch with precise attention.

Give me more. It burns like fire. Give me more.

The pleads swim and drown, they resurface in your ears as you witness the man who seems more powerful than a God lay before you. Eating you out till your tart nectar soaks his full beard through and makes his lips shiny with dew.

A slurp and a suck brings colorful hues to your vision, a lick and roll of his talented tongue clears them out yet manifests them back. Bringing you in and out of consciousness to behold the sight of a man with midnight black hair, lovestruck stars pouring in beads of sweat.

Rolling down the cords of muscle on his back and the slope of his temple as his hips collide with the man who french-kisses your cunt, fucking his ass at the same tempo rhythm.

It makes you restlessly grind your hips into Ari’s mouth at the sight, high on your cotton cloud of fluffy euphoria. Glassy eyes captivating the Eyes of the Heavens but feeling the heat of Hells Gates.

So torn between the two hemispheres, is bonding your heart and soul; like all the forgotten love letters you’ve pieced together, like the transforming moon going through its metamorphic stages.

Two strangers of the night, claiming your mind, body and soul— but how did it come to be?

The place was Lovers Lane, a roaring New Jersey club near the sparkling turquoise shores and blonde beaches. A place most memorable for good drinks, the Hampton-like waves and hopeless strangers dirty dancing under disco balls until they fall in and out of love.

Tonight, was one of the typical Saturday nights that anyone local with money and time to burn in the city would spend it here. Hollywood stars appearing here and there yet no one really notices the highly acclaimed Ari Levinson and creative genius Clay Appuzzo at a private booth.

Swooning strangers with their mysterious connections and unspoken secrets in their citrus margarita eyes. However, it was not common for them to run across a mystery of their own.

She, the midnight woman in strawberry red was a rarity in the tarot cards gifted down from the wicked stars. Possessing their twinkle and burn the minute she stepped in and flooded the dance floor in her energy.

She’s a dizzy reverie in strawberry silk, destined to enthrall the photographer that dances with her to his knees, his hands raised in a prophet's prayer. Pleading to taste the lips of the midnight woman in strawberry lipstick, staining both the lovers' minds in seventy-nine-dollar lip prints.

The thought is both appetizing and beyond Clay’s sinful imagination, to his lovestruck eyes and curious hands that grow more curious. They hold the roundness of her ass against his hardening member under the polaroid lights of the spiraling disco ball and she smirks.

How did she come to be?

Ari Levinson wonders, he feels himself spiraling even when he’s seated on a barstool. Pairs of lovers besides him line up the bar yet he reserves his space for his lover, and another for the woman rocking his beliefs and heart.

Pink honeysuckles of growing fascination and temptation bloom sharp and explode like firecrackers inside his chest. The petals of curiosity fall to the pits of his stomach, blossoming seeds of hesitation and anticipation. They sprout with a glance, a wink, a flip of her bouncy hair to his direction.

This enthrallment trails dangerous allurement inside Ari Levinson, whispering a prophecy in the conch shell of his ears that ales his ocean hues follow your prominent figure. Swimming through the purple liquid of his pomegranate tequila in the cocktail glass he looks through, he sets it down after taking a mouthful sip.

Rosy-dawned fingertips clasp the mood ring around his thumb, fading away from a blue glow to a red when you catch his gaze. With another set of rubs to the crystal you both bashfully look away, you looking back to the tall man that grabs your hips as you both dance against each other.

A sense of corrupted virtue in your mascara stroked eyes, no one could suspect that the same man is looking at Ari with that same look. They both radiate sex and hunger, something Ari writes for a living and sensate every day. But for some reason it doesn’t possess meaning when you’re the outline and archetype of every word and desire he’s written on his old typewriter.

It’s perplexing, because nothing Ari could write can he bring into existence. Although, this event of his lover dancing with the mysterious stranger with the magnetic eyes and entrancing lips that seem to captivate everyone is a ripped page straight out of one of his erotica’s.

The taste of pomegranate soaks his mouth, his scruff cheeks warming as the alcohol swims through his veins. Exhilaration fuels the pace of his heart that beats along with the music, Ari observed the dance between Clay and the mystery woman becoming more handsy and intimate.

It’s getting Ari feeling a delirious type of feather light, burning all over till he pulls off the brown leather jacket off his shoulders. Unbuttoning the three buttons of his peacock blue polo till the gold in his Star of David glimmers, he calls Jake the bartender over.

“You called Levinson,” the man remarks, his candy-striped button-up rolled up to his elbows. Drinking from a glass bottle of coke, enjoying the free entertainment that came along with being a bartender.

The older man doesn’t look at him, making the curious bartender Jacob Wolf shift his gaze to where his loyal customer glances. Amused, his hazelnut hues latch sight on the woman who's on everyone's mind and paycheck.

“Give the strawberry dream over there a drink. It’s on me.” Ari drawls, not withdrawing his longing stare away from her despite the growing crowds of dancing bodies intervene.

Jacob laughs, because only God knows how many times he’s been asked that. “Alright, what are your requests?” the man questions, enjoying the look of blank answers written on Ari’s features.

Usually, when Clay and Ari pick a girl up, they wouldn’t care what to get her and neither of them would care. Whatever that made the girl soft and dreamy on them did the trick, but you don't seem to apply to that. Ari needs to impress you; he needs to figure out where your strings like to be pulled.

“I suppose I should ask her.” he sighs, he doesn’t know why it came out so airy and delicate and it makes Jacob snicker again.

Jugging down the rest of his cold cola, he disposed it before patting own the blue velvet on Ari’s shoulder. “Smart, because they didn’t do that and she hasn’t touched a single drink all night.” his head gestures to the opposite side of the bar aligned with various drinks of sizes and colors, all untouched.

Ari manages to find the familiar tall figure of his boyfriend and where Clay is he manages to find her. Kissing him like a tease and pulling away for him to crave more of her forbidden fruit lips. If only his ears could catch the sweet sounds of her moaning softly against Clay's lips. Commenting how they taste like cherries, Ari knows that she’s thinking that his lips taste like cherries.

The music gets louder, the lights spin faster, his thoughts get wilder. Looking back Ari sees her fingers in his raven hair, her palms rubbing the exposed skin of his chest and her striking body rocking against his thigh.

Ari smirks and sips from his drink, recognizing Clay’s tactic of initiating a heated dance to just excuse himself for a little break. Leaving whatever woman he dances with hooked, he doesn’t even need to count down the minute because he’s now sitting down next to him.

Panting like dog in heat, Clay lets out a tamed but tipsy howl. “I have t’say this Ari, woman these days are made to destroy men. I can’t get enough of ‘em, they kill me in the best way.”

The man who’s been dancing for half an hour pants whilst his hand sneaks to rub Ari’s thigh, running his fingers through his own tasseled hair. White teeth flash and Ari feels faint when Clay has the audacity to get his tube of cherry chapstick from his pocket and apply another coat of cherry chapstick on his lips.

“Hey Alpha! What does a guy have t’do to getta pepino over here!” Clay hollers, smirking wider when Jacob rolls his eyes as he finishes up a trick of vodka shots to entertain a group tourists.

“And that gal back there, I think— let me hold that thought. I think someone’s needy for some attention.” Clay gestures to her figure dancing alone under the disco ball, catching the lime and cucumber drink sliding through the grapefruit vinyl.

Both their eyes trail back to her body grooving to the new beat, the circulation of her hips and the flow of her waist and shoulders entrance them. Clays hands rub at the coffee brown velvet wrapped around his thighs, taking Ari’s hand and putting them on his throbbing cock.

Erect by the fuck me eyes you give to the two men and the way Ari’s teeth pull his own bottom lip in between them. Straining when Ari grabs at it under the shadow of the bar ledge, the crystal in his mood ring glowing red.

“What are you thinkin’ honey?” Ari draws, lips tracing the dimple on Clay's smile while his thumb rubs the ruby ring wrapped around his lovers middle finger.

A little endowment he gifted Clay one night in some hotel honeymoon suite when he knew he fell deeply in love with him. Clay bites his bottom lip, normally his boyfriend would be hesitant to show him this much attention in public but it seems tonight is a packed house.

Everyone seems to have their eyes on their own conquests, playing a cat and mouse game just to feel something. The same game you’re playing, their burning hues are glued to her spellbind silhouette who continues to dance with entranced men with sex tosseled hair and women in see-through sequined bralettes.

All the attention she attracts, all the desires she derives, she keeps her fixed gaze on Ari. Sending a silent whisper from the movement of her lips, asking him for a dance with the playful wink that makes Ari’s knees shake.

“Suppose I should be askin’ what you’re thinkin’ Levinson.” Clay sends him a cocksure grin, taking the pepino tequila he ordered and taking a long sip, not pulling his own lust drunk gaze away.

“I’m thinkin she’s fuckin perfect. I know this might seem crazy but, fuck— she put a damn spell on me, honey. What am I supposed to do?” Ari talks like a man deprived of water and sex, both things Clay provide for him and he doesn’t disagree with Ari’s confession.

“I think you should dance with her. Look at her eyes, fuck look at ‘em Ari.” Clay growls as his hand with the ruby ring wraps around Ari’s jaw so his taunted blues can lock with her hues from the other side of the dance floor.

“Just look at her—“ Ari is and how could he not? “She’s beggin’ you for a dance. Read her eyes, she’s beggin’ you to make a move.” she’s biting her lip, her body moving in sync to the song and Ari’s pounding heartbeat.

“What are you gonna do with her? How are you gonna please her?” Ari shivers as Clay whispers, liquor-soaked lips brushing against the soft skin of his ear.

The man with the shoulder length hair of honey can’t look away and he won’t look away. It’s the way she seems to draw everyone's attention to her, the way she embodies everyone's deepest secrets and desires.

Maybe it’s from the delirious moment to act without giving attentive thought that encourages him to sip more from his glass and shamelessly gawk at her, at you.

Perhaps it’s the hand that rubs at his hardening cock and teeth that grasp the skin of his ear which drive him to imagine what it would be like to have you naked and moaning in between him and Clay.

Or for all Ari Levinson knows, it could be the factor that he wears his heart on his sleeve and you're undoing the buttons of his heart strings with a satisfaction that makes your lashes bat and your own beating muscle flutter.

“What are you waitin’ for?” Clay whispers and Ari curses himself for wondering the same thing, his feet hitting the polished tiles as his body joins the other sweaty and lust-radiating ones on the dance floor.

Strangers touch him, strangers dance with him, strangers tell him the numbers to their hotel rooms, but he still locks his eyes to you and moves closer, closer, closer.

Till he becomes face to face with you, eyes batting, bodies moving, noses touching and hands wandering as you two bring everyone’s attention on you both.

It’s arousing, lewd, promiscuous and everyone’s immorally drunk on it as the music only gets louder and the euphoria of colorful lights spin faster. Your peach painted nails trace Ari’s beard whilst your ass grinds against his body, going down till he can see the lascivious curve of your back.

Getting down until your hands touch your platforms, Ari’s hands grasp your hips, massaging the softness while the delicious friction of your plump ass drags slowly against his thighs, loins and finally till it grinds against his boner.

Wolf whistles and drunk whoops of encouragement ring out and with another spin of the disco ball does Ari notice his lover joins in on the dance. The midnight woman’s lust drunk eyes match the erotic olives of Clays, the air becoming thicker and the lights gleaming a deep red as the man with the ruby ring moves his body to match hers.

Ari’s mouth tracing her neck and his cock rubbing against your ass. The two of them are a dangerous mixture of lethal lust, intoxicated off them just as they are off you. The midnight woman, you, would never have thought to have a night like this.

Dancing with the man who writes all the romantic erotic novels you play with your pussy to and the man who photographs the covers for them. The very men of your dreams you’ve never that you’ve ever find in your coffee-stained reality, yet here you are living it.

please let this night last, make this dream last forever

Ari takes takes you’re face in his hands and presses a wet and gentle kiss, all you can taste is pomegranate and the sudden craving you have for more.

“I don’t want this night to end either.” Ari lips move against your neck, thrumming the violin strings of your heart.

“Ari, what do you say we make her night even more special and take her to see the patio.” Clay speaks as if you weren’t there, although your face heats up as the legendary Clay Appuzzo kisses your hand.

“I say that sounds like a good idea, away from preying eyes. Just us and our strawberry.” Ari agrees with a hum, taking your other hand in his large one and sucking down on your pulse.

The threat of his teeth nips at your skin and suddenly you're dizzy all over despite not having a single drink. Continuing the motions of your hips, your head pulls back giving him your approving moans.

“That sounds perfect.”

♡♡♡ thank you for reading! ♡♡♡ i’d appreciate it if you’d reblog or leave a comment what you think and see you soon for part two! ♡♡♡

𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 — @amethystnalaah . @lavendercitizen . @babyyhoneyydarling . ♡

[justyouraveragecsmfan]

Siren! Makima Headcanons

Siren! Makima is deadly. Extremely.

While there are other sirens that exist too. She's more dangerous due to her cunning and manipulative nature. Most of them stay far out of her territory too due to the fact she won't even blink an eye before slaughtering one of her own.

Siren! Makima does not try to sing at every sailor or ship that travels her way. She's smart enough to know that humans do have ways of surviving a Siren's song.

Her powers are mainly used on indirect means instead. Her bewitching voice charms the winds into making the sea more treacherous, drowning huge vassals in seconds.

Or she uses them on certain...lower life-forms to destroy anyone she deems as a threat.

Siren! Makima has different songs for different purposes. While she does consume her prey most of her killings are done purely for her own amusement.

She sings a tune designed specifically to make a person lose their mind. It goes on until their eyes roll back and their ears bleed, whereafter their body is thrown into the sea to the starving creatures beneath.

Some travellers are deliberately spared by Makima, but not before chanting a bonding tune into their heads. It makes them subservient to her and also brings back more unsuspecting humans to do her bidding. Why she is creating an army of humans and sea creatures is still unclear. The reasons remain, till date : Unknown

(To be continued ???)

[daisiesandshakes]

Ikevamp fanfiction

One step closer part 2

Pairing: William Shakespeare & female reader

Summary: after confessing your feelings for each other (part one) it's going to be a wild night...

Words: about 4k

Rating: 18+ /NSFW PLEASE DON'T READ WHEN YOU'RE UNDER THAT AGE!

Tags/warnings: smut (you have been warned), sex, oral sex, (vampire) biting, overstimulation, mentions of cum & blood, light bonding

Special thanks to: lovely @yanderepuck for rereading and helping me with this 4k monster 💖 and for inspiring me with her simping post to put my thoughts into words 🙏💖

Enshrouded in his arms it is a silent carriage ride to Shakespeare's house. Neither of you speak a word, exchanging affection is the only expression of your feelings.

William caresses your silken locks as you reach out to touch his gorgeous face again. Is this really happening?

You're with him, HIM!

He holds you in his arms and he loves you!

Sighing, you trace the lines of his delicate lips with your fingertips. Why does the carriage take so long?

Locking eyes, William holds your hand in place, kissing every finger. His lips ghost over your knuckles, traveling over your fingertips to graze them with his fangs and the tip of his tongue.

Mismatched eyes, now like burning flames, swallow every provoked reaction.

His intense, sensual glance full of sweet promises is already enough to let the muscles in your lower belly clench and you whimper.

Dammit - this man is way too sexy.

His pupils grow wide at the noise that escapes your lips.

You could cut the sexual tension with a knife right now. Grabbing you by your hair at your neck he pulls you into a kiss.

At first it starts as a soft and tender touch, but then William's teasing tongue dances over your lips again and again.

You shift your legs due to the sweet sensation between your thighs.

Wanting more, you take his tongue in a sudden motion between your lips, sucking at the tip, then pushing your own hungrily against his.

Shakespeare moans loudly with pleasure.

Tightening the grip in your hair he pushes you down into the seat, kissing you deeply with feral desire. You can feel his other hand moving from your waist up to your chest, caressing the form of your breast through the fabric of your dress.

At this moment the carriage stops.

Slowly Will tears himself from the kiss and pulls you up.

"To tempt me with these cunning wiles...tis is a dangerous game of yours." He whispers into your ear.

"Though I'm begging you to show me more, it inspires me to make you mad with pleasure. Be assured my dear, I'm looking forward to pay back a tenfold the passion you intend to grace me with '', his voice seductive with bare desire. You swallow.

With a blank mind and weak legs you let Will help you out of the carriage and lead you the way to the house entrance, the bubbling excitement inside your stomach growing with every second.

As the door closes behind you, Will takes his jacket off and ties  his hair up with a ribbon.

You turn around, unsure what to do with yourself, looking at the exquisite interior.

"Do you need something, my dear? A drink mayhap?"

Somehow his voice sounds unusually deep and suppressed.

You're turning back to face him "No thank you William, I am f-"

Your back slams against the door and you gasp in surprise. Shakespeare presses himself against you, his nose almost touching yours, you can feel his hot breath on your skin. While he pins your wrists with one hand over your head, his other hand moves from your waist up to your chest, dancing over your curves. Not breaking eye contact his fingertips trail the way up to your face,  stroking your cheekbones and the lines of your lips with the lightest, tender touch.

He frowns "I am sorry... I fear I can't be that gentle servant you deserve my goddess..." his voice husky.

Your heartbeat drums in your ears and you lick your lips, his gaze immediately glued to your mouth.

"You bewitched tis pathetic wretch... making me shiver with lust, begging for even the barest brush of your skin".

William slowly pushes a knee between your legs to spread them.

"It is my eager wish now to favour you with tis sensation in return." He purrs as he lifts his leg between your thighs to press it softly against your womanhood, his hand now cupping your breast.

Your entire body trembles with want.

His lustvoll gaze still glued to your lips, as if he awaits words of a magic spell from them to set him free, unable to make a further move without them.

Tears of unbearable anticipation sting in your eyes.

"Don't hold back William, I am yours, here at your mercy. I love you and I want you so bad, I need you!"

With a cry he kisses you with untamed desire, pushing his tongue deep into your mouth to intertwine with yours. You bury your free hand in his soft maroon hair, trying to pull him even closer.

Lifting one of your legs around his hip, he bucks against you and your juices ruin your panties as you feel his throbbing erection. His lips leave your mouth, traveling along your jaw to your neck, his tongue leaving wet stripes on your skin.

Letting your wrist go  Shakespeare breaks the kiss and yanks with one fierce move of your dress and corset down to your waist. You gasp at the act and the sensation of cool air on your bare breasts.

Feeling embarrassed you close your eyes and lift your arms to cover your chest.

"Don't.. I beg you" you stop at his pleading voice.

As you open your eyes to meet his gaze, the pure adoration lying in it shocks you and sends shivers down your spine.

He takes a step forward, hovering his hands above your chest.

"Oh my sweet darling, tis is such a breathtaking sight, it would inspire any artist's mind to create masterpieces.. " his fingertips graze slightly over your collarbones.

"I don't dare pretty neigh to touch your delicate form".

Nearly shy words, barely a whisper.

"If you don't touch me right now William, I'm sure I'll attack you instead" you growl, surprised by your own boldness.

He chuckles delightfully as he takes you in his arms.

"So greedy and eager, hm? Shush darling... Let tis  bewitched wretch take his time to worship you..." he purrs at the sensitive spot behind your earlobe.

His tongue travels from your earlobe to your jaw, up to your lips to slip eager in between, kissing you senseless and you let yourself drown in the pleasure. Cupping and squeezing your breasts, his thumbs teases your nipples, making you dizzy with desire.

Not breaking the dance of tongues, your trembling fingers try to open the buttons of his shirt, hungry to touch his skin.

Impatient you just rip it open and as your fingers touch his solid chest you moan into the kiss.

Will pulls away laughing. 

"Never thought to imagine you would desire tis body of mine this much." He smiles at your lips.

He has no idea.

His hands leave your skin only for a few seconds to take his shirt off.

Then again he presses his body against yours and heat waves run through you as his hot chest touches your bare skin, brushing over your stiff nipples and William's mouth captures yours with the greed of a starving man.

You let your fingertips travel over the sides of his upper body, down to his abs, noticing him breathing hard.

You break from the kiss, leaning the head back to watch his wide-eyed expression while your hands slowly travel to his loins.

Panting, with slight open lips he shifts a bit, giving you more space to go further.

One of your hands moves over his arousal to enfold it through the fabric of his pants. You hold your breath at the size.

He lays his hand on top of yours, pressing his pulsing manhood into the palm of your hand.

His hot tongue slides teasingly over your lips with whimpering noises as he rocks his hips.

Abruptly Shakespeare lifts the bottom of your dress and you hear the ripping sound of fabric at your panties, only a split second before a finger enters your tight wetness.

You cry out.

"Fuck!" Your hips roll against his hand as he bends the digit.

"Not yet, my greedy temptress" he hisses next to your lips, pulling his finger out, licking it clean.

William moans at the taste of your sweet juices and his intense stare with burning eyes forces you to look away, unable to bear this carnal sight anymore.

He cups your breasts again, sucking your nipples, letting his tongue dance around them and you squeeze your eyes shut with a groan.

Kneeling down he tears the rest of your clothes to shreds, stroking the sides of your hips with affection. His nose brushes over your thighs up to your loins, followed by his tongue. Lifting one of your legs over his shoulder he intrudes two fingers into your heat.

"Ah... so wet with juices sweet as honey and so tight on my fingers alone..., you're truly a divine relish." he murmurs before his tongue slips over your swollen clit.

Desperately trying to steady yourself you grab the doorframe and dove the other hand into his hair.

His digits moving in and out, heading deeper searching for the sweet spot that let you see stars, your wetness dripping down your thighs. With a flat, dancing tongue he moans against your sensitive nub.

"W- William... I can't..." breathless you roll your hips frantically at his hand to bring his fingers rubbing over the secret spot deep inside your aching core with every slight move.

You feel a tingle building up in your lower belly and back arching you grab his hair as you come down hard.

Crying out loudly, your walls clenched around his fingers, your wetness spreads over his hand.

Shakespeare pulls his fingers out, licking your folds and then his fingers to achieve  every drop your body offers.

While waves of the aftershock run through your form, your shaky legs fail you.

He lifts you up into his arms, leaning his forehead against yours as he carries you into his bedroom.

"It only has begun, my dearie" he whispers, lying your body carefully down onto the silken sheets.

Hovering his body over yours his enchanting, mismatched eyes study every detail of your form, filled with love and adoration.

Graceful fingers floating over your chest, your breasts down to your belly, sliding over your hips to your thighs.

You weep as he reaches your knees, forcing them apart with gentle pressure, to spread them more for him.

To lie this bare, in such a vulnerable state open to his intense view, makes you shiver and yet you can feel more wetness drip over your slit.

"Never before have I seen such beauty, lying spreaded before me, bathed in moonlight." He confesses with a husky voice, kissing softly on your knees.

"Let me drown in you, my beautiful. I desire to get lost in your embrace, wishing never to be found again" his tongue caresses your thighs.

With piercing eyes Will observes every tiny move you make as he spreads your legs more and slides a finger into your heat again. You grip the sheets.

"Tis is mine, mine alone" he whispers fiercely, easing his finger in and out, hitting your hidden, sweet spot over and over again as he gazes down at you with glowy eyes, watching you closely, absorbing your slightest reaction.

You whimper "Will.. oh god.. I'm about to .. Aaah.. cum again!"

How did he find out so fast how to pleasure you the most?

"Who do you belong to? Scream it for me, my greedy temptress"

Ardent spoken words and his skilled finger sending you over the edge, tears of passion roll over your cheeks

"You!! I only belong to you Will!! Oh god.."

The world around you stops existing and you fall apart as the juices of your third climax spill again over his hand.

He lifts his wet fingers up, eyeing them stunned.

His hungry gaze darts to your glistening entry and with a groan he dives in, licking your slit up to your oversensitive nub, to caress it with soft, circling moves.

You squirm, trying to get away, overwhelmed from this stimulation. But his hands around your thighs push your hips down, holding you in place with an iron grip.

You're sure you can't take this overstimulation anymore.

Tears rise up again and you cry out "William! P- please... Too much!"

You begged him to stop, but you nearly yelped as his tongue left you.

Sensing the warmth of his body as he climbs on top of you, you cup his face and lean up to lavish his delicate features over and over with lovingly kisses, smiling shaky before your lips find his.

Without ceasing his hands travel over your curves, leaving burning traces on your skin.

Cupping your breast in his palm and giving it rough squeezes, he lifts your leg around his hip with his other hand, pressing his covered arousal against your entrance, making you feel the aching emptiness inside of you.

"Please...Will..."

"Hm? Please what my impatient goddess?" he asks teasingly, rolling his hips up again. You never imagined you were able to desire someone this much.

"Don't.. tease.. I need you! I'm begging you...! I beg you to make me yours!" You manage to whimper with a broken voice.

He freezes at your confession, staring into your eyes with a feral light in his gaze.

"To hear those tempting words from thyne sweet lips..."

His mouth claims yours with a fervent kiss, leaving you breathless.

"As my Queen wishes, I'm your servant at your command" he purrs.

Sitting up he pushes his pants down, kicking them off in a quick motion, to be over you again in seconds. You lay your arms around his shoulders,  pulling him closer and you sense the tip of his throbbing cock against your slit.

"Please, take me, please..." you breathe, thinking you can't stand another second without having him inside of you.

Guiding his cock with one hand to your entrance, he pushes the tip inside.

You throw your head back and mewl, trying to pull him closer with your legs.

With a slow but firm motion he enters you fully. Gasping for air, you try to relax, letting the muscles of your tight core adjust to his size.

William breathes hard, strands of wet hair fall into his face and his sweaty chest glistens in the moonlight.

"By all the gods, you must be created for my shape only... Aah.. .to feel your lustful tightness around me..."

Shakespeare didn't move yet, making you mad with desire and you think he knows it.

You buck your hips up hard to his and he groans.

"Move." you hiss at his mouth, biting softly his lower lip, digging your nails into the delicate flesh of his rear.

William loses all remaining reason. You could see it in his eyes.

Reaching down to take your hands, he pins them down over your head, holding your wrists with one hand. He pulls back until only the tip of his member remains inside, watching you as he pushes back into your heat unbearable slowly.

You sigh in delight by the sensation of feeling every inch of him. Pulling back again, Shakespeare lifts your hips to change the angle, instantly meeting the hidden, sensitive spot inside as he thrusts deep into you.

Your mind goes blank, eyes wide open as you moan out his name and a pleased smile appears on his lips before they capture yours in a messy kiss.

With every fierce thrust into you, his body slides over yours, the warmth of his chest brushing over your stiff nipples makes your toes curl.

His mouth travels down to your neck, leaving his tongue across your tender skin lovingly. He inhales the sweet scent that comes from that delicate place and before you can tell what he's about to do, his fangs plunge your skin.

"William... Not while.."

Barely noticing the short prick, you scream because of the unearthly pleasure that follows, spreading through you, setting every nerve alight.

You almost pass out, mind and body overwhelmed and overstimulated. The orgasm that hits you tears you in pieces, leaving you shattered and shaking.

The walls of your core clench around William's cock rapidly and you hear yourself crying out like a wounded animal, while your release drips down your thighs onto the sheets.

The waves of the aftershock doesn't seem to end, blissful tears spilling out of your eyes but you don't notice them.

The playwright leans down, his soft lips kissing the corners of your eyes fondly, to wipe your tears away with them.

"So sensitive to my touch and bite... I have to admit, I didn't presume to affect you this much", he murmurs at your skin.

You shift your head to meet his eyes, surprised to find joyful tears  glistening in them.

"You affect me this way because I love you so madly, William".

Groaning loud he intertwined his fingers with yours, holding your hands down next to your head. His hips buck again against yours while kissing you fiercely, messy, senseless.

The nerves in your now oversensitive core spread with every stroke of his member arousing tingles through you, making you moan constantly.

Your whole lower belly seems to be on fire and you can feel the pleasure grow again.

Such rapture shouldn't be possible!

You throw your head back to expose your neck for his hungry tongue , trailing burning lines on your skin.

"I love you, I love you so much Will... ", you grind your hips to meet his slow, but forceful thrusts.

He let go of your hands, holding you against him, his eyes sparkling. You smile at each other between sensual kisses, tongues dancing together. At your lips he whispers "My darling, my goddess...fair maiden only  mine, I love you more than you can imagine".

Suddenly William increases the speed of his deep thrusts and you gasp, the air filled with the sounds of slapping, wet skin and cries of pure pleasure.

"Oh f-.. oh god, you feel so good Will!" 

Something changes in him at your words.

With fiery eyes and a moan on his lips he grabs the back of your knees, pushing them to your chest, desperately trying to get even deeper into you.

This new position allowed him to hit with every stroke the sweet spot deep inside your heat, making your vision blurry with stars.

Holding onto his slim shoulders as if your life depends on it, you breath his name again and again.

You dig your nails into his tender flesh when an incredible tingle starts to rise and the coil deep inside tightens.

"Ah.. I'm so close! More, I need more!"

His wet hair falls over his face as he slams forcefully into you. "So...as... I am! My love, let me hear your sweet voice, scream for me!"

Attacking your chest with love bites William pierces your nipples with his fangs and sends you with another hard stroke over the edge, licking up the blood from your sweaty, tender skin.

Intensified by the nibbles of his fangs, your orgasm crashes on you with a force beyond belief and you scream his name, voice cracking. Waves of rapture let your walls clench without cease and William groans out loud as the muscles of your core milks him, drawing out his climax instantly. With a few final, deep thrusts he buried himself deep inside you, moaning and shuddering in your arms.

You pass out as your ravaged body still rocks with the afterwaves, your blank mind dragged into a blissful abyss with nothing left in it but him.

It seems to be late in the morning as you slowly open your eyes. Stretching your body you notice that you're alone, William has already left the bed.

Instantly you are aware of the sore feeling in your lower belly and in between your legs. Heat rises up your cheeks as the past night comes to your mind and a pleased sensation runs through you.

'As you regained consciousness again, Shakespeare showered every inch of your form with loving kisses, begging you for forgiveness, that he wasn't able to stop himself, for being so reckless and feral in his desire for you. After you reassured him several times that there was nothing to forgive at all, Will claimed your body over and over in the most tender and affectionate ways until the morning dawned. He took possession of your body and soul while he breathed sweet nothings to your skin, words spoken with so much love and adoration, made you weak and your heart raced.'

With a dreamy expression on your face from those sweet memories,  you pull your aching frame out of the bed as you realize that there's nothing left you could wear. William ripped every piece of fabric from your body last night.

Clueless you look around and to your surprise you find one of William's shirts on a chair, neatly folded with a red salvia flower on it. Your heart swells at this thoughtful and sweet gesture.

But how did he find out you love herbal blossoms? You never mentioned it?

After taking a shower you pull his shirt over, inhaling the scent of lavender and sweet sandalwood on it. For sure it is far too long and too big, but you are happy being able to wear it and maybe you can ask William later for pants.

With still damp hair you stepped on your tiptoes through Shakespeare's house, finding him writing at the kitchen table.

Standing quietly in the doorframe you soak up the view, William properly suited, his glance focused on the papers before him, silken strands of his maroon hair falling over his face shining in the sunlight.

You could stand here forever, only watching him. Then you notice he draped all kinds of sweets, fruits and bread on the counter, fresh brewed tea steaming in the pot. When did he manage to get and do all that? Did he even get some sleep?

Suddenly he looks up, giving you a sweet smile.

"There you are, my dearie. Come here."

Standing up William offers you a hand and as you step in to take it, he lets his gaze roam over you. "My my, I have to admit, the shirt suits you." He also takes a step closer, pulling you into his arms.

Listening to his heartbeat, a sigh escapes your lips. "Oh, this feels so good..."

He hums, his hands caressing your back. "Are you feeling well, darling? Didn't I go too hard on you?" he asks, his voice faint and concerned.

"Everything is fine William. Really." You smile at his chest. "To be honest, it was the luckiest night of my life."

Sensing his heavy exhale, you continue "Don't worry, I have a well trained body, I can take a lot."

As you lift your face to meet his eyes, you can see him cocking an eyebrow, giving you a meaningful look.

"Oh, I've been fully aware since last night, my love." A smile curls at the corners of his lips.

Uh, this conversation takes an unexpected steamy turn...

But then he lifts your hand to nuzzle his cheek in it, closing his eyes. "Please forgive me for ruining your beautiful dress. I've  already sent a carriage to our dear Comte, to get some of your clothes and dresses. It must be back in a while".

When did he do all that??

"When you are able to suit yourself properly, I'd like to take you out." He kisses your palm softly.

"But the rehearsal? Your play? We should be there soon. The others will be waiting for us..." You frown.

"Oh don't worry about that my muse. Yesterday morning I informed all troupers they'll have a day off today."

You are relieved. But-

Wait - what? Already yesterday morning? You look puzzled, but then ...

"Okay, you've planned the entire thing out, haven't you? How could you tell how it would end?"

Shakespeare looks down, avoiding your eyes for the first time and a faint blush appears on his cheeks.

"I couldn't. "

He inhales sharply. "For certain I wished for a 'happy ending', to say so. A day off would have been delightful in that case, being able to spend some pleasant time together. It happened to end in a way more blissful than I could ever imagine." He cleared his throat. "And for the case I was mistaken, I thought a day off would've been good for my wounded heart to recover." He swallows. "Are you mad at me now?"

Oh, William!

Your vision turns blurry with tears. Blinking them away you throw your arms around his neck. "I am so happy you made it this way, that you forced me to react. I would never be bold enough to confess my love to you, Will. I love you, my heart belongs to you."

He wraps his arms around your body, holding you tight like a lifeline and kisses your temple.

"And mine is yours" he nuzzles his cheek into your hair. "As well as my soul and my love. All of me is yours, always and evermore."

 Affectionately William kisses your forehead and you lift your chin. Your lips meet in a sweet kiss and his hands start to travel over your form, abruptly stopping at your hips.

He moves with you, changing the direction and you feel the table behind you.

"May I ask you something, my dear?" He asks at your lips and you only nod in response.

"What are you exactly wearing under my shirt?"

You freeze, feeling your cheeks growing hot.

"N- nothing... there was only this shirt on the chair..." You stutter.

"Hmmm.. hmm.. " he hums in your ear, "and you didn't notice the shortened pants I left for you in the bathroom?"

You- Wait... No you can't remember you saw something like that in the bath.

His hands travel further down to your thighs "Oh what a pity, I gave my best to trim it to your height tis morning..." he murmurs at your ear as his hands grab you to lift your body with a swift move on the table, settling himself between your legs. You gasp and your heart began to race with incredible speed.

"Don't you think you'll deserve a little punishment for your ignorant manner?" he asks, mischievous and yanks his shirt you're wearing completely open.

Your blood rushes through you, skin flushed from excitement and embarrassment at the same time.

With fervent eyes Will takes his time to soak up the sight of you, before he cups your face with a greedy grasp, claiming your lips in a fiery kiss.

His tongue slides inside, exploring and teasing, and you moan into his kiss as his graceful fingers dance over your exposed curves.

You entwine your hands in his silken locks, feeling a familiar pulsing heat rising up between your thighs again.

Pushing your upper body gently down on the table, he breaks the kiss to caress your breasts with his tongue, cupping them roughly with his hands. Your breath is coming in huffs and you close your eyes with a whimper as William bucks his hips against your sex.

Then he let go of your body to take a ribbon out of his shirt pocket.

At first you think he's about to tie his hair up, but he takes your wrists instead, tying them together over your head, up to a candle holder on the wall. Your eyes grow wide and a tremor runs through your form as he watches you intensely, swallowing your reactions.

Lying bare and helpless in front of him, being at the mercy of his hands and burning eyes, let your pleasure and excitement increase into the infinite.

"My goddess, my temptress..." he whispers as his fingertips slide over your chest, "You've robbed me, of all pieces of heart and mind, sweet bandit mine."

Fingertips moving down further to your belly.

You can feel your wetness already dripping out and you're unsure if you should be this aroused, considering the glowing soreness in your core.

The fingertips reach your loins, and a thumb circles ever so slightly over your sweet nub, his gaze filled with feral desire glued to your sex. Crying out, you tear your eyes away, unable to stand his view. Never before had anyone looked at you this way, craving and starving for you.

Kneeling down Shakespeare kisses the inside of your leg up from your knee, while his hands roam up and down the outside of your thighs. His lips stop at the apex of your inner thigh for a second.

"Such a sweet and alluring scent of yours my darling" he purrs at your delicate skin, shifts a bit to give your slit a quick but firm lick up to your sensitive nub.

Moaning out loud you have to resist the urge to close your legs around him.

"All of you is mine, mine alone," he breathes at your sex, sending shivers down your spine.

His mouth and tongue travel back to the apex of your inner thigh and William burrows his fangs into your soft skin.

Yelping you buck your hips. At this vulnerable spot it is more painful at first, but the waves of the following, overwhelming  pleasure washes your mind away.

You cry out his name and your love for him repetitious as he greedy draws your blood, moaning and grunting at your skin.

Mind slipping you begin to realize what it means to love him and to be loved by William Shakespeare in return, but you are more than willing to take whatever it costs.

Thank you for reading! ♡