#but certainly not golden blonde or light haired or anything like that

[journeythroughtherain]

Unpopular opinion about Evan Buck Buckley

That man is not blond.

[achaotichuman]

Recently I delved into the depths of my docs to find the first fanfiction I wrote for ACOTAR that never saw the light of day.

Obviously it's horrible writing, but I like the premise and since I am addicted to piling more projects on top of my scheldule I rewrote the first chapter and redid the plot for it.

Originally these events take place a year or two after the war with Hybern, and everything is the exact same EXCEPT for somethin Tamlin is doing.

I changed it so that this is a fic of what would have happened if Tamlin didn't give over that drop of power to bring Rhysand back.

Anyway, here's there rewritten chapter. Tell me if you guys like it!

“Be happy Feyre.”

The words nearly tumbled out of his mouth. The carefully loving words that wrapped like ivy around his throat, choking him, those last cords of love that had twisted into something else. That had made him soft for her. He had offered his heart like ripe fruit on a silver platter for her to take and now look at where he stood. 

Bloodied, gore and guts clinging to his armour like a second layer of skin, mud caked on his legs and arms. Hair a mess, dirty and disgusting. His people, his armies, whom he had gone to his knees to earn the trust of them back, after she twisted their minds, undid their memories, stared in every personal thought to create a new story for all of them. One that fit her narrative. 

The damage she had caused, the things she had taken. What she had done, what she had cost not just them but all of Pryhtian. Destroying the Courts she had saved not even a year ago. 

Now, on her knees, holding the man who had assaulted her night after night after night whilst she vomited, cried and danced and laughed, and been drugged. She screamed his name whilst she cling to his lifeless form. 

The good for nothing bastard Lord was finally dead. Tamlin should have breathed a sigh of relief. 

Instead every High Lord stood around awkwardly, as one after the other they had willingly handed over their magic despite what this man had done to them. Despite how much they all hated him. They did it for his grief-stricken mate who screamed for them to help. To bring him back the same way she had come back. 

But he was dead for what he had done. Giving over power to remake the Cauldron, the mother had taken his very soul with the magic, the price paid to put the world back together. 

Truly, who were they to defy her?

Tamlin stood up straight, when Feyre stared up at him, eyes filled with tears as she saw his stone-cold face. 

“Please,” She screamed, “Please I’ll do anything!”

Green eyes cut from her to the other Lords. None made eye-contact with him. All looking elsewhere, anywhere, the grey-red clouds above, the torn battlefield layered with bodies on decaying bodies, the rivers running red with blood. Some of them, no doubt reminded of Amarantha’s reign of terror by the bloodshed, looked to the muddy ground. 

But none dared look in his eye, all knew what she had done to him. Her reasons for doing so. They also all knew what he had done to her. 

But staring down at her now, thinking back on all of it. 

Thinking back on the slander of Court, the destruction of his people. The lying, the scheming, the pure hatred. 

Then there was one final thought that struck true. 

What would they have all done if it had been him dead on the floor and not Rhysand?

The image of his bloodied mother, his dead brothers, even as cruel as they were, flashed before his eyes. 

“No.” He said. Standing tall and true, “I will not hand over my magic.”

“You fucking monster!” A girl with gold streaked blonde hair lunged at him from out of nowhere. Morrigan. 

She didn’t get far, from where she was knees deep in the mud. A flash of gold and a short-sudden scream from her. She was pinned to the floor with golden threads. Not painful, but certainly startling, and no doubt humiliating. 

Tamlin couldn’t find it in himself to care. 

Feyre stared up at him. Her wet blue eyes boring into his own with a deep-cut grief that would have broken him just a few weeks ago. 

Now. 

Now all he felt was mild pity, and a distant sadness, for the girl who had been killed under the mountain and never brought back. 

“Who's to say the real Rhysand would even return?” Tamlin said, voice mockingly kind, “When the first time we brought a human back, she was not the same at all?”

Feyre’s saddened eyes turned wrathful, her beautiful face twisting into a deadly scowl. All that hatred, focused solely on him. 

“You were what led me to my death! And now you refuse to even help him!” She screamed, the pain and grief tearing through her, along with the emptiness of where her mating bond used to be no doubt fueling her rage. 

“You led yourself to your death as did he.” Tamlin said, perfectly calm and stoic. She wouldn’t get a rise out of him. Not anymore. 

Tamlin looked to the others, “Think about all that male has done to us. Think of what his mate has brought down upon our lands. And maybe rethink tossing your magic carelessly at whatever dead corpse lays before you.”

“He is not a corpse!” Feyre shrieked. Her cries and screams becoming distant. Vague. As weariness bore heavy on him. For the mortal, the living, unfortunately exhaustion was a natural occurrence. 

Tamlin’s eyes went down to Rhysand. Least he’ll never be exhausted again. 

The thought was cruel, and maybe he was a horrible man for feeling relief. Staring into that lifeless face, knowing he was dead forever. Gone. Bound to never bring him misfortune again. 

“You are a heartless male.” A seething voice said somewhere near him. Tamlin looked towards where a limping Illyrian with blue siphons hissed, looking like he wanted to tear the High Lord to shreds but his own limitations and injuries prevented it. 

A cold, humourless smile broke out on his face. The Spring Lord looked down upon Feyre. 

“Give him your own magic.” He said, tilting his head, “Why don’t you hand over those drops of power you claim to make yourself so, so powerful?”

She was silent, as tears continued to stream down her face, he couldn’t stop himself from saying, “Oh right, you can’t.”

He would leave after this and never see her face again, he hoped, but he didn’t bite his tongue to prevent the final blow, “Our magic is the only thing holding you together. You claim yourself so powerful. Above the rest of us entirely. The self-proclaimed High Lady of the Night Court, equal to the most powerful in all the Earth. But you really aren’t. You need our magic to survive.”

Tamlin looked back at Rhysand, and didn’t hide the relief on his face, “You can’t bring him back without us.”

The Nightmare was gone. Now all that was left was the cleanup. 

Feyre screamed, whether it was an insult, her hatred or simply incoherent, he didn’t know. He winnowed away. Back to Spring. 

It was time for a cleanup. 

And he had plans to make things right in his Court. In Prythian in its entirety. 

***

I probably will not continue this fic since I have so much I need to write already, but I think its fun to go back and reflect on my old ideas and rewrite to compare to how my form was before and how it is now.

[animereaderinsertwriter]

Pairing: Cloud Strife x Reader

Rating: Explicit

Tags/Warnings: frenemies to lovers, Cloud's memory problems, reader is an assassin, smut, porn WITH plot

Final Word Count: 9k

Plot summary: A mercenary and an assassin walk into a bar. They bicker, have sex, then go home and freak out about it. The whole thing feels like it should be a joke, but it isn't— and no matter how bad it hurts, they keep coming back for more.

ao3 link

“Let us go then, you and I, When the evening is spread out against the sky Like a patient etherized upon a table…”

The entrance to Hell's Maw yawned lazily open, with the wooden door leaning crookedly off of its hinges. The door— made of sturdy oak— had held up well against bar fights between mercenaries, master thieves, and assassins for over a decade; it was riddled with holes from unsuccessful knifings and stray bullets, and sported faint airbrushings of blood from more successful endeavors of the same sort. Really, the agency ought to have replaced it by now as a favor to the bar for letting its employees regularly trash the place— but those stingy bastards couldn't be bothered with anything outside of making money off the hard labor of people bigger, meaner, and certainly more deadly than themselves, and so the door remained as it was.

Fondly, you patted the door as you passed it; the little creak it gave felt like a 'thank you,' and you smiled as you slipped inside the building, largely unnoticed by the Friday night crowd.  

Despite its name, Hell's Maw was a cozy, comfortable establishment. There were large, comfortable booths lining the walls, the fabric of their green seats cracked and slightly worn in the middle; a few pool tables with green felt were nestled comfortably in the middle of the room. There was always something soft and smooth playing from the jukebox in the corner, and the lighting was dim enough to feel gentle and ambient, but bright enough that a girl didn't feel the need to squint at her plate for deformed food. 

Tonight, a few familiar faces were gathered around the pool tables, holding cues that had been haphazardly duct taped back together a few times. The quiet buzz of conversation was a comforting lull, and there was a pleasant smell drifting out from the kitchen that had you sighing at the thought of a warm meal. 

Home sweet home, you thought, smiling as you took in the scene. 

"Evening, Kitty," you greeted one of the servers as she passed by. "What's the special tonight?"

Kitty was a short, pleasantly plump woman with a freckled face and flaming hair. To look at her, you'd never know that she spent her evenings catering to smugglers, tramps, thieves, and worse— but she was as strong as she was beautiful, so generally speaking, she got whatever she wanted out of Hell's Maw's regular patrons.

"Shepherd's pie," said the waitress, grinning back as she bussed a table, "but your friend over there is putting everyone off their dinner with that sour look on his face. It's a wonder anyone can keep their drinks down, what with his mean-mugging."

You followed Kitty's gaze to the bar, where a familiar shock of blond hair glowed honey-golden in the incandescent lighting. 

To your credit, you tried hard to stifle your laugh. 

Sitting on what you had come to think of as your barstool, Cloud Strife looked even more brooding and mysterious than usual. A glass of his choice poison— lemon water with a pinch of mint— was sitting untouched on the mahogany wood in front of him. As he sat there, glaring at his glass, he seemed so miserable that you couldn't even be mad at him for stealing her seat. 

Alas, despite your efforts, the sight earned a giggle.

"He looks to be in a fine temper," you noted slyly, wagging your eyes at Kitty.

Kitty huffed.

"He looks like he's swallowed a hornet's nest."

You laughed again. 

"I'd best go see what he wants, then," you said. "If it's any comfort to you, I can't imagine he'll stay very long."

"Oh, he's no trouble," said Kitty mischievously. "As for myself, don't care what face he makes when he's got a face like that."

You giggled. He really was handsome, that bastard. 

"I'll be sure to tell him you said that. Later, Kitty."

"Later," said Kitty with her signature wink. 

As you approached the bar, you wondered at Cloud's presence there. It was a rare day that he arrived at the bar before you, and even rarer that he should be waiting for you and not sitting in a booth with a friend— an actual friend— or chatting up some girl at the pool tables. You couldn't recall a time when he'd been this forward with his presence at your little meeting place, and you'd be lying if you said the newness of it all didn't set you on edge. 

Cloud Strife in general set you on edge. 

"Hello, first class," you greeted him, smiling.

As he turned to acknowledge you, you slid gracefully into the seat next to him, signaling to the bartender for a little something sweet and strong. 

"Cutthroat," he returned without malice. 

You turned your best pout on him. 

"Now, now, you're being uncharitable. You're in my seat, and I haven't even considered cutting your throat." You thought for a moment. "Well, until now at least " 

He raised a brow, in a moment both teasing and deadly.

"If it's any consolation, though, it's more of a scientific interest than anything," you added as an afterthought. "It's not often that I get contracts for anyone like a SOLDIER, you know."

Blue-ringed green peered at you with familiar, friendly distaste. 

"I'm not stupid enough to be one of your marks," he said, taking a sip of his drink. "I think with my upstairs head, which is more than I can say for the guys you get paid to kill."

It was a bit naive of him to assume such a thing. No man was above being one of your marks.

"Then praise be that the world isn't full of good, right-honorable ex-SOLDIERs like you," you shot sweetly back at him. "Poor little me would be out of a job."

Cloud let out a noise somewhere between a scoff and a laugh, then sobered and stared moodily into his glass of water.  He looked like a petulant child who'd been sent to his room as punishment. 

"Come on, why so sour?" you prodded, trying to keep your tone teasing. "Did you get turned down this evening before I got here? If so, I'm sure the pretty brunette in the corner would go home with you— she's been staring at you since I walked in."

He scowled.

"Why does it always have to be about sex with you?" he snapped as the bartender handed you your glass of fruity bliss. "Are the men you seduce to kill not doing it for you anymore?"

You took the insult in stride.

"Why?" you challenged, leaning forward, eyes flicking up to meet his. "Curious?"

Cloud was the first to look away.

Somehow, it was always this. He would come to you in moments of woundedness or weakness and pick a fight that he couldn’t finish. Fights about work, fights about drinks, fights about the sex that neither of you were having, and fights about fighting just for fighting's sake— too often, you found yourselves here, in this endless cycle of strange and hateful amicability. Why, you didn't know— but it wasn't like that was going to stop you from playing your little game.

"Why are you in my seat?" You began again, changing tactics. "You know that's my seat. I'm fairly certain the groove of my ass cheeks are worn into the shape of it by now."

"Wanted to be," he replied with a little shrug of powerful shoulders. "It's a nice seat. Got a problem with it?"

You hummed, sipping from your drink.

"Not at all. Just curious as to what's wrong with you today."

Cloud cut his eyes at you. 

"Who says there's something wrong with me?"

"Oh, there's something wrong with everyone here. The fact that you're picking a fight with me today is especially telling, though."

"Not picking a fight," he grumbled.

"Of course not," you replied, placating. "Now— would you like to tell me what's on your mind, or should I try and guess?"

Cloud stayed silent, but took another drink from his minty lemon water. 

Guessing it was, then. 

"Don't know which girl to pick again?" you scanned the bar. There were plenty of Cloud's type there— sweet innocents that looked like they needed protecting. "I can help like last time. Blondie by the pool table has got great tits and a sweet smile, but she'll want to do it missionary the whole time. The brunette I was talking about earlier is probably a bit kinkier, if that's what you're i—"

Cloud moved to get up, disgusted. 

Wrong guess, then. 

"I'm teasing," you told him, tugging his arm. "Sit down, drama queen."

Cloud eyed you warily, but reluctantly sat back down. 

"You know," you said gently, "this would be easier if you could just tell me what's going on."

Cloud's expression shuttered closed. It was as if a mask had dropped into place over his features, locking them into a single blank expression. 

"Nothing's going on. I told you, I'm fine."

You were beginning to feel frustrated. Hell's Maw was a haven for damaged colleagues of a hellacious profession. Most of them came for one of two reasons: to have sex, or to play house in a place where the job didn't matter. Cloud was the former, you were the latter. You fulfilled his need to banter and blow off steam, and he fulfilled your need to care and watch out for someone. It wasn't like you were friends. Currently, he wasn’t fulfilling your needs, and you weren't fulfilling his— so why were either of you even there?

"You're a shit liar, Cloud Strife," you huffed. "If all you're going to do is act like an ass, then you can get out of my seat and find someone else to abuse with your presence."

He shook his head.

"I doubt someone like you could understand."

You leaned back in your seat. An odd hurt pierced your chest. 

You knew your lives were different. You knew he disapproved of yours. That was an old fight that had already scabbed over into little more than scars on your psyche; but if he wanted to pick it until it bled once more, you would indulge him with scratches of your own.

"Someone like me," you repeated, the words bitter as lye soap in your mouth. “Tell me, Cloud— what, exactly, do you think I am?”

You stared deeply into his eyes, challenging him. As you did so, you noted the mako-greenish tinge in the center of his iris, and not for the first time, the weight of your secret pulsed within you, threatening to fizzle out from you in white-hot sparks.

“I think you’re a murderer,” he told you, his eyes never leaving yours. “You’re a contract killer, and what’s worse, you use your body to lure men to their deaths like some kind of demented, two-bit—”

You had heard these words before. Refusing to hear them again, you drew back your hand and made to strike him; you didn’t get far, though, before Cloud’s SOLDIER reflexes proved their worth and caught your hand before the slap could land. Even through his glove, you could feel the mako beneath his skin, and you shivered.

“I told you before,” you said, speaking carefully, willing control to return to you. “Don’t call me a whore ever again. If you do, it will be the last word you say.”

Gently, you nudged the blade in your other hand against his ribs, and he flinched backwards, apparently not having seen or anticipated the movement despite the obvious distraction of the slap.

“I don’t have to say it,” he replied calmly, tightening his grip on your wrist. “You put the words in my mouth, so if the shoe fits, then fucking wear it.”

The flow of mako within him was strong, pulling at you physically like the opposite side of a magnet. A breath, then two, and it was under control— but those words cut deep. Hearing them from someone like Cloud cut even deeper. 

"You know what, I don't have to take this from you," you said, trying to take your arm back. He didn’t let you, instead holding you fast against your will. Feeling vengeful, you added, "Especially not when you're such a hypocrite."

Cloud's expression was impassive, marble-esque, but the hardening of his eyes told you that you'd hit the mark.

"Excuse me?"

You smirked. 

"What, you think I don't know what you get up to around here? How you fuck around with these girls and that pretty barmaid at Seventh Heaven? And yet you think I’m the whore? Get a grip, man." 

"What?"

There it was— hurt and indignation that mirrored your own flashed in his eyes, and you knew you had him.

"Oh, you heard me," you said, tilting your head like another girl might for a kiss. "I'd bet top dollar that your big-titty Tifa would give her right arm to play housewife for you, and you play right along with her, the poor thing. Does she know you come here every week for an easy lay?"

Cloud snarled, enraged, and roughly threw your wrist away from himself as though disgusted.  

"I've never touched Tifa!"

You grinned wryly, massaging your wrist, and said,

"And don't you know it kills her?"

It occurred to you then that you might have gone a bit too far. Cloud's hands were balled into white-knuckled fists, and he looked as if he might hit you. A moment of tense silence swept over the both of you, a tug of war of will-he-won't-he between you— and then as he always did when it came to matters of the heart, Cloud Strife took the easy way out. 

He turned away. 

"Coming here was a fucking mistake," he growled, fitting that giant, way-too-Freudian sword to his lean, muscled back. "I don't know why I fucking bothered— of course you wouldn’t take this conversation seriously."

"What conversation?" you shot back. "If you think shit-talking me to my face is a conversation, you've got bigger problems than leading some girl on."

He rounded on you.

"I'm not leading anyone on. I don't feel for Tifa like that and she knows it."

You arched a brow. "Oh, so you've told her?"

Cloud faltered.

"Well— no."

"Then is she just supposed to guess?"

Cloud scowled, no doubt ready to double down on his point— but you, suddenly conscious of the setting and the kind of hurt it would cause if talk like that got back to Seventh Heaven, moved closer and said seriously,

"That girl loves you. Everyone from here to topside knows except you. You break her heart, and I feel for her. Every woman has cried the tears she cries for you— most are just smart enough to cut thoughtless, careless bastards like you off."

Cloud shook his head, expression closed. 

"No way. Tifa's smarter than that."

You smiled, though it ached.

"No woman is," you told him gently. "Love is our gift, and our curse."

"You're full of shit."

Ah, that was it, then. Once he began to resort to blind insults, you knew you'd won.

"No, I'm right, and it bothers you— and you know what else I think?"

Cloud folded his arms.

"Can I pay you not to tell me?"

You ignored him. 

"I think that you think I should be as tortured and as guilty as you feel, and it bothers you even more that I'm not. I understand this world, live in it, accept it, and so you believe that I am just as bad as everyone else in this stupid bar. And that, Cloud, is why you’re here right now, so let me give you this piece of wisdom."

You caught his arm again as he tried to turn away, feeling the warmth of him beneath your hand. 

"I have no guilt, and I have no shame. It is the world who should be ashamed for having need of me. Of having need of us."

In that moment, you found yourself nose-to-nose with Cloud, sharing his breath. His eyes— his beautiful eyes— were trained on yours, calculating, analytical. His breath smelled of lemon. You wanted to taste the sourness of it from his lips, feel the burn of its acid in your split lip.

"Don't be ashamed," you murmured, forcing your eyes to return to meet his gaze. "You are what they made you, but you survived. Never, ever be ashamed."

The place where the skin of your palm met the skin of his forearm burned with electric warmth. You found that touching this prickly, untouchable man felt like holding a live wire. From the very beginning, you had known that Cloud Strife was a powerhouse, a living weapon; somehow, though, you had neglected to realize what kind of power he had over you before this skin-to-skin contact. 

After a moment, something dawned on you, and you were horrified. Just like Tifa, just like every woman watching them and seething with jealousy, you wanted him. 

"I hate you," he said, but moved closer. "I hate how easily you justify this life."

"I accept your hate," you said, "but you can't deny what I've said is true."

"I hate that too." He moved his arm away from your hand, bringing his hand up to touch your neck, his thumb resting in the hollow of your throat. He could easily kill you, even with your knife still at his ribs. You fought against the urge to close your eyes and let the sensation of it consume you. 

"I do wonder why you came here then," you mused softly, "why you're bothering with talking to me when you could take one of these little fawns home with you."

"I don't want them," he said almost distractedly, his eyes dark and intense on yours. "At best, they're a means to an end."

This was news to you. You'd watched him take them home night after night like clockwork. 

"Then what do you want?"

He never once broke his gaze with you. You never even saw him blink.

"Would that I knew."

Cloud tilted his head. You thought you had imagined it, until his nose bumped yours. 

Was this what he had come here for?

You weren't sure. Either way, he lingered back, unwilling to close the distance. If you wanted to kiss him, you would have to choose it for yourself; if you wanted him, you had to make the active, conscious choice to cut yourself on his edge, and take the pain that would come with it. 

You weighed the costs, found them worthy. You leaned forward, closing the gap, and let him kiss you.

Oh, what a kiss. 

The act itself was simple. It was only the touching of flesh, soft and surprisingly gentle. The mako-power under his skin pulsed against the places where you touched— your lips, his hand at your throat, your palm against his bicep— and a powerful twinge of want jerked the nerves between your legs, wanting, needing more. 

Distantly, it occurred to you that if any of the kisses you'd shared with your marks had been like this, you would have been the one lying dead at the end of it all. 

"Do you want to leave?" you asked once your lips had parted from his.  

"Depends on where you want to go," he said, nose still brushing yours. "I'm not interested in going back to mine."

Of course not, you thought bitterly. Tifa might see. 

Ego bruised, you decided to play the game. 

"Who said we were going to anyone's place?" You hummed, your lashes lowered. "An alleyway might work just as well for what you have in mind."

Cloud's eyes darkened further at that. 

"You'd like that, wouldn't you? Filthy sex in a back alley where anyone could see." He scoffed, pupils dilated. "Disgusting."

He went in for another kiss, and you stepped back. 

"Who said anything about sex, either?" you teased, eyeing him up and down. "Just 'cause your usual crowd lets you take what you want doesn't mean I will. Not everyone wants Shinra’s sloppy seconds."

Cloud frowned.

"Don't fuck with me," he said, deadly serious. "I don't take that shit well."

At that, you softened. Perhaps that had been a bit too far. There was clearly some amount of bad blood between this particular SOLDIER and Shinra, and you had poked that bruise knowingly.

"I'm sorry," you said, sincere. "It was wrong of me to tease you."

You extended your hand.

"Come on. We'll go to my place."

For a moment, you didn't think he'd take it— but eventually, he placed his hand in your own and let you lead him away from Hell's Maw. 

On your way out, you passed a few booths of familiar faces that turned their heads at the sight of the two of you leaving together— but just as you were starting to wonder if you'd made the right decision, Kitty caught your eye. The waitress gave you an all-knowing smile and winked. 

It was the closest thing to a blessing that you were going to get.  

Outside of a job or a hookup, Cloud was not often outside at night under the plate. 

Now, in the awkward silence between himself and (Y/N), he had time to look and reflect. The combination of maintenance lights and the soft glow of energy throughout the plate itself was a poor imitation of a sky full of stars, but it was good enough in the absence of another alternative. It dimly lit the dusty, barren streets, casting everything in the greenish-gray of mako energy-fuelled lights; when he wasn't peering into suspicious shadows, Cloud caught glimpses of (Y/N) out of the corner of his eye, noting the way the unnatural light made her skin appear strange and foreign beneath it. Before now, he had not thought her skin to be so familiar that he would notice a difference. 

Tonight was a remarkably bad idea. 

"We're almost there," (Y/N) said to him, slowing her walk until she stopped to face him. She peered up at him with piercing eyes, and Cloud suddenly got the feeling that he was being tested. 

"Something bothering you?" he ventured, resisting the urge to check over his shoulder for some unseen enemy. 

"You could say that."

(Y/N) did not drop her gaze; Cloud refused to give her any ground by being the first to look away for the second time in the evening. 

"Why are we here?" she asked him, her eyes throwing the light of the plate back to him in little glowing pinprick reflections. "I wasn't thinking earlier, not really— I let my baser instincts lead me this far. Before we go any further, I have to know what you're in this for."

An excellent question, that— it was one Cloud had asked himself a thousand times before he made the decision to show up at Hell's Maw.

I'm here ecause you drive me to distraction, he wanted to say. Because you're so beautiful, and so deadly, and I have wanted a taste of you since I first laid eyes on you. Because after meeting with you every week for months, moments with you feel like the only thing that's really mine in all the world. 

Instead, he did not speak, not for a long time. Patiently, she watched him, staunch in her decision to remain where she was until he gave her an answer. 

Because I want you is the answer he should have given, mostly because it was the truest one. The answer he gave was stupid and cowardly, and only true in the vaguest sense. 

"To scratch an itch," he said. When she raised a brow, he added, "A deeper one than usual."

He hoped distantly that she could understand his reticence. He could not tell her what he felt without feeling foolish; he could not even acknowledge it to himself without feeling a traitor to the feelings he was expected to bear for others. Tonight, he could have chosen from dozens of women, and at least two of them were as dear to his heart as his very own flesh— but none of them were her. (Y/N) was beauty and grace and nightshade; she was the honey in every trap, the woman he wasn't supposed to want, but wanted carnally. She had no history with him, only the present, and yet he felt that she understood him like no one else ever had. 

Don't be ashamed, she'd told him earlier, her gaze steady and strong like steel, her voice soft and gentle as silk. You are what they made you, but you survived. Never, ever be ashamed.

Cloud had spent so much of his time ashamed of everything. Ashamed of his roots, of his failures, of all the things he remembered, of all the things he didn't— and it was as if she had felt the badness in him, sensed it without him saying, and accepted it as a part of him. In her, there was no blind hero-worship, no transference of feelings from a risky rescue. No, she was simply the other side of his coin. She knew him because she was him. 

"An itch," she repeated, and he felt as though she were flaying him open with her eyes. 

"An itch," he replied, unable to say anything else.

She took a moment, considering. She must have found something within him worthy, because she gave a nod and walked on as though the conversation had never happened. 

If someone had asked Cloud that night what her house had looked like, he could not have said. He would not have known the color if it had been neon orange with fireworks shooting out of the front of it; by the time he should have taken notice of it, he'd been thoroughly distracted with (Y/N)'s mouth on his own. 

How that happened was a mystery also. One moment, he was walking along with her, slightly behind— the next, he was grabbing her arm, overcome with the desire to see her face once more, his heart somehow damaged by her uncharacteristic silence, and then he was kissing her because he could, because she let him, and because he was swiftly becoming utterly obsessed with the taste of her. It was filthy, deviant stuff, sucking on the length of her tongue, holding her to him by the very hair of her head; eventually, he decided that he wanted her closer still and simply lifted her, wrapping her legs around his waist. 

From there, he'd been operating mostly blind. She gave him directions, intimately familiar with her route home, and guided him even to the very last detail of how high he should lift his foot to make it up the front porch steps. If either of them had not been who they were, such a thing would likely have been impossible— but with an assassin's precision and a SOLDIER's grace and ability, they'd navigated the journey just fine. 

At first, it seemed a shame and a nuisance that, even after they'd done so well getting there, (Y/N) insisted on opening the lock to her front door— but then Cloud got a magnificent view of her backside, and remembered that, as an ass man, it was practically his duty to come behind her and press himself against her with hungry neck-kisses as she fiddled with the lock. His cock, already half-hard, was infinitely pleased with the rocking motion he'd taken up, grinding against her ass; she, apparently, was also pleased as she pressed back against him, encouraging the friction with her own body as his teeth scraped over the lobe of her ear. 

“Fuck,” she swore, her hands shaking as she finally managed to slide the key home, using it to turn the lock. “That feels good.”

Never one to let a compliment lead to complacently, Cloud licked a line up her neck, tasting her sweat and the bitter tang of her perfume; his tongue found the lobe of her ear once more, then delved into the cavity of it. (Y/N) shivered at the motion as the door fell away, and Cloud guided the both of them inside, kicking the door shut with a heavy boot. 

Her home was smaller than he had expected. For some reason, Cloud had imagined her to live in a palace, or something close to it— certainly, the amount of money her jobs paid could keep her more than comfortably in one, if there was one to be found below the plate— but instead of great columns and outrageous interior decorating, Cloud found soft carpet, flourishing plants, and rows of bookshelves filled with knick-knacks and photographs. All in all, (Y/N)'s place just seemed sort of… normal. 

"Bedroom's this way," she called out over her shoulder, smirking— but Cloud caught her arm, stopping her. 

The idea of knowing the way she kept her room— the intimacy and implications of that knowledge—was too much to bear. 

"Here's fine," he said, touching his nose to hers, then tilting his head. "Kiss me."

And boy, did she ever. Her hands threaded through his hair, pulled him to her; her tongue slid past his lips and he groaned into her mouth, cock jumping at her passion. Grabbing her hips, he pulled her pelvis to meet his own, grinding against her; to his surprise, he found his hands knocked away, replaced by her own on him, which began the process of unbuttoning and unzipping. Soon, his cock was free in her soft, graceful hands, and he couldn't even bring himself to be ashamed of the moan he gave as she spat into her hand and stroked him. 

"I wanna suck you," she said breathlessly against his lips. "S'that okay with you?"

There was really only one answer to that. 

"Fuck yeah," he replied. 

He'd meant the words to be confident, even commanding— instead, they came out like a plea. Not that (Y/N) seemed to notice as she dropped to her knees before him, now eye-level with his gently-curving sex. No, he thought as she placed her hands on the crease of his thighs, playing teasingly in the fine dusting of hair there. She didn't seem to be bothered at all.

"You're a big boy," she said with a mischievous grin, her lips only a breath away from his cockhead. "I thought the sword might be over-compensation, but now I'm starting to rethink things a bit."

Cloud would be lying if he said that didn't stroke his ego just a little. 

"Just shut up and get on with it," he said, heat rushing to his face. "You can't talk and suck dick too."

She began slowly, so slowly Cloud thought he might die. She kissed his thighs, his belly, leaving his cock untouched; then came teasing kitten licks to his tip, teasing him, delving into his slit to lap at precome. He bucked his hips at her, impatient, and (Y/N) looked up at him with a smirk and said,

"If you don't like how I do it, do it yourself."

So saying, she grabbed a large, gloved hand and placed it on the back of her head, giving him his cue as her mouth returned to his cock. Cloud, shocked, didn't know what to do with himself for a moment— but it didn't take long for him to figure it out. He held her head— so small in comparison to his hands— and fucked her face, shoving his cock into her mouth over and over again as she tried to keep up with her hands and her tongue. She was hot and wet around him, her throat smoothly textured as he fucked deeper and deeper. It felt good to take that kind of control, he noticed, to take his pleasure from her by force. 

(Y/N) gagged a little as he thrust roughly, and he thought he might come on the spot.

Perhaps it felt a little too good. 

Rougher than he meant to be, he pulled her back by the hair at the base of her skull, gripping the strands close to the scalp. She looked up at him then, teary, breathless, and smiling, and Cloud was struck at once by how ravaged she looked. Gone was the kitten that had teased him at the bar; gone was the confidante who had confronted him about his intentions. In her place was a woman of pleasures, a woman of fleshly desires. This (Y/N), he hardly knew. 

"Open your mouth," he said, wiping saliva from the corner of her lips. She did so, sticking out her tongue— and without quite knowing why, he spat into her mouth. A thick glob of spit dropped from his mouth to hers, landing on her outstretched pink tongue; Cloud, feeling dizzy with want at the sight, leaned to seal it with a kiss. As he did so, she moaned against him, lacing her fingers in her hair, and he found himself pulled to the floor with her, his cock in her hand and her tongue in his mouth. 

Piece by piece, he undressed her. First to go was her shirt, followed by her bra; ever greedy, Cloud moved to take off his gloves so that he could feel the soft skin of her breasts in his hands, but she stopped him, her eyes gleaming dangerously.

"Leave them on," she told him, placing his gloved hands on her body, just over her pretty, perfect, and probably sensitive nipples. "I like the texture."

And fuck if that wasn't the hottest thing Cloud had ever heard. 

Next to go was her shorts. Made of tough black denim, they were hard to slide over the swell of her hips; thankfully, though, her painties came off with them in the struggle, leaving her sex bare and wet in the chilled air of her apartment. With that, she was finally, gloriously naked.

Except, of course, the gun that was strapped to her torso.

It was a mid-size blaster, whose thin holster and belt were nestled snugly against her skin. The gun and all that held it were a sexy matte black, and Cloud quirked a brow at (Y/N) in question. 

"What, don't you know I'm always packing?" she teased him, leaning backward to unbuckle the belt that held the holster to her belly. To do so, she stretched her arms behind her back, arching so her tits were in his face, and Cloud was suddenly distracted.

With SOLDIER strength, he pulled (Y/N) to him by the hips. Sneaking one hand up her back, he leaned down to kiss between her breasts, then more to the right, until his mouth enclosed her nipple. Her moan was heady; without thinking about it, he moved the hand at her back to play with the other nipple, rolling it gently between his fingers, and she threw her head back, pressing into him. 

"Yes," she pleaded, her hands tight in his hair, "Fuck, that feels good."

For good measure, he licked and sucked at her skin, leaving love-bites in his wake. Even though he knew he'd not see them, there would be some pride in knowing that they were there, a pleasant, aching reminder of this moment.

Cloud could have spent forever in the pillow of her breasts— but his cock was so hard that it was getting difficult to ignore the throbbing between his legs. 

"Turn around," he said, unbuckling his shoulder guard. "I want to fuck you on your hands and knees."

It was a partial truth at best. While fucking (Y/N) from begind was a regular fantasy of his, there was an ulterior motive behind it. He wanted both of them to be naked, but he didn't want her to have to see his scars. They were many and jagged all across his body, from training, from fighting, from losing; up close, he sort of looked like a patchwork quilt. Not exactly pleasant to look at, in his opinion.

"Bossy," she fussed, but did as she was told. Soon, her knees were spread, her back arched to expose the wetness between her legs, and Cloud had never felt the need to undress so quickly before in all his life. It was fast, messy, and careless, but he was naked enough in under ten seconds to call it a win as he lined himself up with her entrance.

"Ready?" he asked her, pushing his self control to the limit. 

Irritated, she slung her head over her shoulder and said, "Cloud Strife, it you don't put your dick inside me right now I swear to—"

She didn't get to finish her threat. She was choked off the moment his cock slid home, her entire body moving with the force of it. Enveloped in warm, wet heat, Cloud pulled fully out before pressing back in again, biting back a moan as he watched himself disappear inside her folds. 

After another slow, lazy thrust, he leaned over so that his chest was touching her back and began fucking her in earnest; he never pulled out very far before he was pounding in and in and in—

"Cat got your tongue?" he murmured into her ear, wrapping one arm around her to gently lock her head next to his as he fucked her. "Usually you have so much to say."

All she said in response was a single, strangled moan. 

After that, Cloud lost himself. For him, nothing existed except the act itself; the world extended only to the places their bodies touched, slick and sweaty and obscene. His lips and tongue were busy, kissing and sucking at her neck and licking the salt from her flesh. It took a while for him to realize that the low, growling sound he was hearing came from deep within his own chest, and even then he couldn't manage to muster any shame. 

"M'close," he murmured in her ear, tasting the shell of it once more. 

"Inside," was all she said, and that in itself was enough to send Cloud hurling over the edge. 

He fucked her through his orgasm, only pulling away once he could bear the sensitivity no longer. Still half-mad with wanting, he moved (Y/N) bodily, intending to finish what he'd started with his mouth and fingers— but when he did, he found her shaking, with tears welling in her eyes. 

Horrified, Cloud drew away. He hadn't realized he'd been so rough. He hadn't realized that she'd been reacting this way. He hadn't—

"Hey, don't get squeamish now," (Y/N) told him with a weak little smile that made him feel sick. "Calm down, drama queen— I just have a m-mako sensitivity."

"Mako sensitivity?" he parroted, his own voice sounding strangled even to himself. 

She nodded and sat up, though it seemed an effort.

"You— You're a walking b-ball of mako energy," she explained. "With you inside me, and with— well, with—" 

She faltered, but Cloud nodded. He could imagine perfectly well what she meant. 

"You should have told me," he accused her, suddenly angry and very, very hurt. "I wouldn't have— you shouldn't have—"

All he could think of was mako poisoning, somehow his, somehow another's, how sick he'd been, how very close to death he'd come. He'd put her at risk of such a thing. He was a freak, and worse, a fool, for ever thinking he could have—

With slow, pained movements, she placed a hand on his arm. 

"It's not like that," she said. "I— I didn't know. I could feel it, but I didn't think—"

She pitched forward suddenly, and Cloud moved to catch her.

"Easy," he told her, and she looked up at him with a small, weak smile. 

"Gimme a second," she said as he steadied her. "I'll be right as rain after this."

She withdrew her hand and held it out for him to inspect. Sparks crackled between her fingers, and Cloud flinched backwards, instinctively defensive.

"You're not holding materia," he realized, dumbfounded. "What the hell is this?"

"Dunno," she replied, shrugging as though she'd just shown him a neat party trick and not a literal physical impossibility. "I've always been able to feel mako, and when I get overexposed, this happens."

"That's— that's impossible," he said, because it was. 

(Y/N) merely shrugged looking at him with soft eyes. 

"I didn't think it would happen with you. It's just sort of my secret. I get close to mako, get a little sick, and then I have to expel it like this or else it just doesn't get any better. It's… a gift and a curse."

Cloud just stared at her, amazed. 

"With your permission, though," she continued, mischief glinting in her eyes, "I'd like to try something. Y'know, since we have this issue and all anyway."

Without really thinking, Cloud nodded, and then her hands were on him. The hair on his neck and arms raised as she dragged the pads of her fingers from the base of his neck to the end of his torso, the sensation of her touch unlike anything he'd ever experienced. The air tasted metallic, like ozone; when she stuck her fingers in his mouth, it was like licking a battery. Already, his cock was jumping, excited by her touch, and then she was kissing him, threading her electric hands through his hair. Overcome, Cloud wrapped his arms around her, feeling stupid and lust-drunk and so, so good. 

"Touch me more," she told him, electricity popping in the spaces between her fingers. As he did, the popping increased, and he could feel the discharge of her power in the increasingly coppery taste of the air. Each breath was like a mouthful of blood; Cloud was willing to drown in it if it meant her hands would never leave his body.

"Lemme eat you out," he said, kissing the curve of her breast. "I owe you an orgasm."

She pulled back and raised a brow.

"After you made a mess down there?" 

"S'the best part," he grumbled, a bit wounded— but before he could complain too much, he found himself pulled forward as (Y/N) leaned back. She hit the floor with a gentle thud, and Cloud seized the opportunity for what it was.

With careful and precise tongue, he tasted her. First, he lapped at her clit, relishing in the sounds she made, then made it a point to gather the semen that had mixed with her wetness, slurping obscenely as he cleaned her folds. Above him, (Y/N) groaned.

"Why is that so hot?" he heard her gasp as she leaned onto her elbows to watch him. "It should not be that— oh, fuck."

Cloud smirked against her sex and licked a long stripe upwards. With his mouth on her clit, he took a freshly un-gloved hand and began to finger her, curling the digits to reach the place that would make her arch her back and cry—

"Fuck!"

Hearing her swear had never been so erotic before now— but Cloud would be damned if that wasn't a sound he'd love to hear on loop forever. 

Before long, she was close. He could feel it in the quivering of her thighs, the pulsing of her sex. He kept a steady rhythm, and then she was at her climax, falling hard with the rush of sensation and friendly, feel-good chemicals that left her limp and boneless beneath him. 

Perfect for him to continue fucking, now that his cock was hard and leaking again.

"Round two?" he asked, scarcely daring to hope she'd be ready— but then she sat up with a smile and said,

"Hell yeah."

And so it was, over and over, until they were both spent, and Cloud passed the fuck out on her living room floor, satisfied. 

When you woke, it was to an empty floor and no note. You were alone in the place where you'd had the most fantastic fuck of your life. 

Some part of you had known it would be this way. You had only known him for a handful of months, but in that time, you'd learned that Cloud was an avoidant man by nature— and you were doubtless not the first of his hookups to end this way. Still, the idea that he could just leave after such intimacy was… distressing, for some reason. 

Surprisingly, though, that feeling was easy to shake off once you left the dubious comfort of your floor and started planning your work for the week. Blond assholes who happen to give fantastic head amount to very little to a woman on a mission; you thought of him often, but the thoughts were small and benign, always curious and never of hurt or longing, as you had thought they might be. What had happened had simply happened, no more. 

Then Mako Reactor 5 fell to terrorist attacks, and the week went to shit so fast that you got whiplash. 

Before the reactor fell, you had considered not going to the bar that weekend. You didn't need an end-of-the week drink that badly; Cloud could take the hint and take a week off from the bar the next week and you'd never have to see each other again. After the reactor and your subsequent compromised mission, though? The devil himself could be in attendance that day and you'd sit in his lap and sell your soul for a drink. 

So, on Friday, you headed to Hell's Maw as usual. There was a possibility, you knew, of some awkwardness if Cloud was there, but frankly, it wouldn't be the first time you'd avoided an ill-advised hookup in a bar before— surely you could survive this as well. It would just be some weird eye contact and then a little ignoring, and everything would be as good as new.

What you weren't expecting was for Cloud to be perched on your fucking seat again, early and apparently waiting for you. 

"Oh boy," you said to no one in particular— and, as if SOLDIER had given him superior hearing as well as inhuman strength and durability, the bastard immediately looked over his shoulder and met your eyes over the Friday night crowd. On the other side of him, you noticed at least five empty glasses and a half-drunk sixth. They weren't water glasses, either. No, they were short, fat whiskey glasses, and, leaning halfway off of his stool, Cloud looked properly sloshed. 

Really, there was only one respectable thing to do in a situation like this. 

You turned on your heel and left, walking as fast as you could in the opposite direction. 

Would that you could have been faster. You had barely gotten two sidewalk cracks away from the bar when a large, warm hand curled around your arm, stopping you. 

"Cloud, get off me," you huffed, pulling your arm against his unbreakable grip. 

"No," he said simply, and bodily turned you to face him. When he did, he used a bit too much of his strength, and you ended up nose-to-nose, sharing breath.

"If this is about the other night—"

Cloud didn't let you finish. He surged forward, sealing those words with a drunken, sloppy kiss that was somehow still as electric as your first. One of his gloved hands rested at the base of your skull, cradling your head, and the other wandered to your hip, pulling you close enough to feel the growing tent in his pants. 

Heaven help you, but you weren't sure if you wanted to stop him. 

"M'sorry," he said against your lips, pulling away only far enough to speak. "Didn't really mean to do that."

Then what did you mean? you wondered, but before you could ask, Cloud peeled himself away from you until the only thing connecting you was his hand resting on the junction of your neck and shoulder. The new distance, though slight, was jarring. 

"M'sorry," he repeated. "I— we made a mistake."

Oh boy. 

"Spare me the dramatics," you said, tired already. "You don't have to explain anything to me, Cloud. I wasn't expecting anything from you other than what I got."

"S'not that." Cloud averted his eyes, shameful, swaying. "I, uh. Shouldn't have put you in that position."

What, does he think I have carpet burn? You wondered, but then Cloud was looking at you with such raw vulnerability that you couldn't even crack a joke at his expense. 

"I don't regret what we did last week," you told him gently. "I'm sorry if you do, but if this is out of some kind of misplaced honor—"

"I'm involved in things," he told you in a tight voice that felt as if he'd said them before. "Dangerous things."

If there was any relevance of that claim to their current situation, you certainly couldn't find it. 

"You're a dangerous man," you shrugged. "It's one of your better qualities. I'm a dangerous woman myself, so I think that tracks, don't you?"

Cloud shook his head.

“It’s—” he sighed. “It’s complicated.”

If you had learned anything about Cloud, it was that ‘complicated’ was generally code for ‘Shinra’. From there, it didn’t take much to imagine exactly what he meant.

“The reactor,” you hazarded, heart filling with dread. “That was the job Tifa lined up for you. Holy shit, your girlfriend is a fucking eco-terrorist, what the hell—”

“— she is not my girlfriend—”

“Look, pal, that’s definitely not the part of that sentence we need to be focusing on right now.”

You reached out a hand, meaning to reach out and draw Cloud closer. Instead, as you moved forward, you were met with cold steel raised against your neck. Cloud’s eyes were wild with distress and distrust, but the set of his mouth was frozen with coldness that meant he would do what he felt necessary if you pushed him.

“Hey,” you said to him softly. “I’m not your enemy here.”

Slowly, you lifted her hands in surrender. Still uneasy, Cloud lowered his sword. As soon as it was clear of you, you stepped forward into his space, close enough that he could not bring the length of the sword between you. Cloud shifted, trying to move back to where he could use his sword if he needed to, but you stopped him with a hand to his forearm.

“Come home with me,” you said, brushing your thumb over the flesh of his arm. “You’re too drunk to be swinging that thing around, and if you want to talk, it’s best we do that in private. Okay?”

“M’not drunk,” he complained, but the look behind he gave you behind lowered lashes said he didn’t mind going home with you anyway. With swaying movement, he hefted the sword onto his back; once it was secure, he gestured for you to lead the way.

The trip to yours was short and uneventful. Once the door to your home was shut safely behind you, Cloud grabbed you once more, his hands on your hips and his lips on your neck. His touch was warm and so, so tempting— but you gently pried yourself away. He was a wreck, and you weren't about to take advantage of that even if it was what you both wanted. 

"Sit on the couch with me," you requested, grabbing his hand. "Let's talk."

As always, Cloud was resistant to the whole talking thing. Instead of poking and prodding, though, you took a different approach this time; you allowed the silence to creep and crawl between the two of you, swishing its tail like some irritated feline, letting it fester until Cloud was ready to bat it away and say what he had come to say. In the meantime, your hands stayed busy, touching, feeling, grounding the man before you. He relaxed into you, muscles loosening; he leaned until his head rested comfortably on your chest. The steady hum of mako buzzed in your head, lulling you almost to sleep— but then, just when you weren't expecting it, Cloud began to speak. 

"I made an oath to someone, a long time ago. "

You pulled away enough to see his face, your mouth agape.

"You're married?"

"What? No!" Cloud made a face of horror and distress. "I— There's a lot of things I don't remember, okay?"

Your brows knit. 

"So… you could be married."

"Oh, leave off of that, will you? I'm not married! I'd remember that if I was."

There was a note of hesitation in his voice that you didn't like. 

"So, this oath," you said, touching the skin of his cheek. "What was it for?"

Cloud shrugged. 

"I only have the vaguest notion. I don't remember the words. It's like— it's like the only way to keep it is to continue fighting, to be in this constant state of war— and yet, that feels wrong, too. It consumes me." He looked down at his hands. "It's like that oath is binding me to something bigger than myself… and as a result, I've gotten mixed up with some pretty dangerous stuff."

"Like?"

Cloud looked at you then, his eyes as heavy as they were beautiful. 

"Like saving the world."

You did your damnedest not to laugh. It was a near thing, but you succeeded— if only by inches. 

"So, let me get this straight… you're now an eco-terrorist because in a time you don't remember, you've taken an oath to save the planet?"

Cloud's jaw locked. 

"It's bigger than that. Much bigger than that. Shinra is corrupt, they kill innocent people— and Shinra's not the only thing." He looked away. "I can't talk about it. It's dangerous. You could get hurt, and the more you know makes you a bigger target."

There it was again, that concern. It had been a long time since someone cared if you were hurt. You tried not to let it take away your objectivity. 

"I assume Tifa knows?"

So maybe your objectivity was a little screwy. Sue about it. 

Cloud grimaced.

"I don't like that any more than you do, but she chose this path a long time ago."

"And Aerith?"

Cloud shook his head.

"She's… insistent."

"So what am I, chopped liver?"

Cloud shook his head.

"This isn't your fight. You aren't involved like they are."

"And I don't have to be for you to tell me—"

"For fuck's sake, just let me keep you safe!" At close range, with his body pressed against yours, you could feel the vibration of his shouting as though it were your own. "Tifa and Aerith, they belong to this world, to this fight— but you belong to me!"

"I don't belong to anyone, hotshot—"

"Exactly!"

You blinked.

"I— I'm not sure I'm following."

A heavy, gloved hand rested on your cheek. You leaned into it, relishing in its warmth. 

"Your soul is your own," Cloud said quietly. "You are the master, the possessor of your own self. You won't die for some cause, won't sacrifice yourself for the greater good. You'll survive. It's all you know how to do."

He tested his forehead against yours.

"I need that. I need you at Hell's Maw every Friday night, sitting in the same seat, drinking the same drink. I need you to talk to me like I'm nothing special, to show me your kindness and your sharpness."

He paused. You waited, teetering on the edge of anticipation, unable to know or even to guess what he would say next.

"And now— now that we've gone this far…" His hand drifted from your cheek to your neck, resting just above the curve of your breast. "I'm afraid of needing that too. I don't want you pulled into my world, and I don't want to need you so badly that—"

I don't want to need you so badly that I'm trapped. 

You understood. It was possible that you understood better than anyone else ever could have. 

"I get it." 

He pulled away, but you didn't allow it. You caught him by the arm, bade him stay with gentle insistence. He allowed it, and you pulled him back to rest beside you, nose-to-nose. 

"I know you, Cloud Strife," you said, summoning the words that had lodged themselves in your chest for so long. "You're like a wild animal. I cannot seek to own you… but if you come and eat from my hand, let me dress your wounds, and rest your head on my lap in times of trouble, I will count myself lucky to have someone so dear to me."

Hot pinpricks burned your eyes. How long have you waited to say something so true, so real? Why did it feel like a confession? 

Cloud didn't seem to notice your distress— or, perhaps it was because he noticed your distress that he leaned forward, slowly, gently, and kissed you chastely on the mouth. You could taste the liquor on his lips; hungering for more, you deepened it, but Cloud kept a steady rhythm, holding you tenderly. 

"Thank you," he said, pulling away.��

"For what?" you laughed. 

"For being here, for taking care of me. For not letting me wander home by myself, drunk and stupid."

"Of course." A smile stretched your face. "Any time."

The two of you stayed there for a long time, sharing breath, exchanging tender touches. Tomorrow, things might change— another reactor might blow, the plate might drop, or Cloud might use up the last of his nine lives— but tonight, nothing existed outside of your too-small couch. Tonight, he was yours, and that was all that mattered. 

[muffinsin]

OMG OMG that bela and Cassandra fluff was SO CUTE🥲🥲🥲🥲 could we see the implied scenario of Cassandra and Daniela coming to Bela during a thunderstorm and Bela comforts them like the good big sister she is?

also I didn’t know I needed Cassandra with mommy issues but it was so cute tbh- do you think Bela would take care of her even if she knew she triggers her mommy issues and Cass therefore sees her as a bit of a mom?

Fun fact: I wrote this nearly to completion before tumblr decided to delete the draft :,)

Absolutely! Also- thank you so much for the feedback, it’s so appreciated! :) I’m very glad you liked it. Let’s get into it!

{For sure! I see Bela as a very maternal person, and therefore think she would absolutely take care of Cassandra, possibly even more so than she normally does, knowing her sister sees her as a maternal figure}

Masterlist 1

Masterlist 2

Bela Dimitrescu gasps in surprise as her light wooden door is slammed open. In her shock she nearly drops the book from her hand. Ready to snarl at whatever maiden clumsily enough to disturb her like this, at this hour no less, she looks up angrily.

Instead, her features soften when she eyes her two younger sisters in the doorway, their heads lowered shyly as they seem to be very adamant on avoiding her golden eyes.

A loud, echoing boom from outside changes this. Their heads pipe up at the loud bang, eyes wide and fear written all over them for the blonde to see. Daniela whimpers quietly, her hand gripping Cassandra’s tightly.

Bela smiles softly at them. In her eagerness to finish her book, she didn’t notice a thunderstorm had started. And what a storm it is! Loud, harsh bangs ring out from the sky every few moments, startling the auburn and brown haired girl. Thick, heavy raindrops fall from the sky and drop heavily against the castle’s roofs. Harsh, cold wind bends the trees outside the blonde’s windows and slams loudly against them.

The pats the bed she is on, and spreads her arms wide. Immediately the door to her room slams shut and Bela feels two large bodies push against her, clinging tightly.

She hisses when their claw-like nails are dug into the skin of her waist and stomach, not yet deep enough to cause blood to drip from her, but certainly enough for the blonde to feel it.

The poor women are shaking on her, with occasional gasps being pulled from their lips. She feels their hectic breath on her, the dampness of her own skin when tears hit it.

Their distress lessens as she wraps her arms around the two frightened women and gently pulls the heavy blankets to their noses. She kisses their foreheads gently.

“It’s just a thunderstorm, it’s all going to be okay”, Bela coos softly. She feels her sisters shift closer to her, until they are practically clinging onto each side of her lap and body, their nails used to keep them attached to the blonde.

Another loud bang, more trembles.

When a particularly loud bang of thunder rings throughout the night, both sisters jump, their heads banging against one another and Bela’s. They whine pitifully, and Bela resists the urge to giggle at them. Instead, she presses a kiss to their foreheads and gently guides their heads back to her shoulders. “Be careful, you two”, she reminds them.

The eldest strokes brunette and auburn curls gently, untangling knots and stroking soft locks of hair. “Mother won’t let the storm take us. She will never let anything hurt you”, she assures the two. The tension slowly eases in their muscles. With another kiss pressed to their foreheads, Bela speaks yet again.

“I will never let anything hurt you”, she promises. And it’s a promise Bela knows she will keep. Never will she allow a thing or soul to hurt her precious sisters. Should anything or anybody dare to, she will make them pay bitterly. The two younger siblings relax again at her words, huddling closer to the eldest.

Daniela whimpers at another loud bang. She clings onto her sister’s left side tightly. Bela is so warm, it’s soothing. With her sister’s warm and protective arm around her, how could she possibly freeze to death. No, with Bela’s warm body and blankets surrounding her, Daniela is beginning to feel safe again.

Her face hidden away desperately in the blonde’s neck, hoping to avoid and flee from the loud noises. She smiles at the kiss that is pressed to her forehead and Bela’s hand rubbing her back gently.

Cassandra grits her teeth harshly as to stop herself from whimpering at every bang of the windows when wind slams against them. She stops this when an arm is wrapped around her and a gentle hand sets on top of her head.

Bela gasps when the middle sister’s nails dig in deeper at another loud bang from outside.

The brunette is pressed tightly against her sister’s right side, face aggressively bumping against the right side of Bela’s neck. She too searches for more shelter from the terrifying noise.

Then, as though the answer came to her, Cassandra hears the buzzing noise of her sister’s flies under her warm skin. Thousands of tiny wings flapping about and creating a sound not unlike a heartbeat. She closes her eyes, focusing entirely on this. Bela’s “heartbeat” is even and comforting, neither fast nor hectic, unlike her own. The more she listens to the comforting tune, the more she feels her eyes begin to grow heavy.

The blonde smiles as she feels her sisters’s nails move back out of her skin, instead hooking into her dress to keep them close to her.

“Read”, Cassandra says muffled against Bela’s neck.

“Village”, the youngest pipes in. Her cheek is smudged against Bela’s collarbone, her eyes closed.

The blonde nods with a small smile, although with her sisters’s eyes closed, it makes no difference.

Daniela whines displeased when her sister’s arm is lifted off her back as she reaches for the storybook. A small smile replaces her unhappy frown when the woman resumes her position a mere moment later.

“Long ago-…”, Bela resists the urge to giggle as her sisters squirm the moment she begins to read, turning and fidgeting until they lean comfortably against her. They want to look at the images in the book, she knows.

And so golden eyes set on the pages when Bela keeps reading:

“Long ago, a young girl went with her mother to pick berries for her father, who was hard at work. But the forest greeted them with a cold silence, the bushes empty.”, Bela reads gently.

She smiles at her sister’s fingertips tapping on the page as she reads, tracing the branches of trees and the picture of a girl with her mother.

“Yet determined to find the berries, the rascal broke free from Mother’s grasp and vanished into the trees. Mother’s worried cries faded fast as the girl went on, over vine and under branch, and into the forest deep.”

“Idiot”, Cassandra pipes in.

Daniela shushes her harshly, whining and flashing her infamous golden puppy eyes for Bela to keep reading.

The blonde smiles, her arms wrapping tighter around the two. She pulls them closer and presses another kiss to their forehead, smiling as she feels them sink closer to her. Cassandra’s head lays rested on her neck, Daniela’s cheek is smudged lazily against Bela’s collarbone.

“The girl recalled Mother’s scary bedtime tales and her throat became bony dry.”

“Then the Bat Lord appeared. He greeted her warmly and bit his own wing.”

“That’s Heisenberg”, Cassandra states with a laugh. Bela and Daniela giggle at this. The image of the Bat Lord in the old storybook is a rather silly looking one. “No, it’s Moreau!”, Daniela counters. “It’d have to be way bigger for that!”, Cassandra disagrees.

More giggles of the three women ring out in the quiet chamber. Even as thunder and the wind goes on, their laughter prevails.

Bela keeps reading as they calm down, her voice unwavering. Steady and calm, gentle yet strong.

“Across waters deep and ominous she went, hoping a boat she found would carry her home. But hunger’s grip tightened and her heart grew heavy”, she reads.

Thunder and lightning has long lessened, even the rain no longer paints windows in its transparent glow.

Upon looking down, Bela discovers the youngest fast asleep and snoring quietly. She smiles gently at her as she presses a last kiss for the day against her forehead and adjusts the blankets again, pulling them high enough to ensure her sister’s warmth.

When she looks down to her right, she is met with tired, dark golden eyes staring up at her. “More”, Cassandra whispers, yawning. Bela smiles fondly at the stubborn woman, so eager to hear the end of the story as though it’s the first time she’s heard it.

She pulls the middle sister closer to her and readjusts her blanket too as she keeps reading.

“Then the Fish Lord appeared, and offered one of his many fins. ‘Come child, eat your fill.’, so the girl ate and smiled with joy once more.”

“Moreau”, Cassandra whispers, a tired giggle falling from her lips. Bela giggles at this.

She watches her younger sister’s eyes get heavier and heavier as she brushes her fingertip alongside Cassandra’s nose, from her tip to her forehead. The brunette purrs quietly, smiling tiredly as she rests her head back on her sister’s shoulder.

Bela keeps up the comforting work of her fingertip, tracing Cassandra’s features and smiling softly as it causes the woman to yawn and shift closer to her, golden eyes falling shut even as she insists she isn’t tired and wants to keep listening to Bela read.

“Continuing on she soon entered the forest’s dark heart. Then an iron steed appeared, bearing a beautiful, golden gear”

A quiet, tired giggle is heard when at this, Bela playfully taps the yellow gemstone embedded into Cassandra’s necklace.

Wind hits the window and makes the brunette jump, golden eyes small and tired, but alert. Bela coos gently, her hand cupping Cassandra’s cheek. “I won’t let anything hurt you, Cass. I promise”

Her sister studies her for a moment, then rests her head back on Bela’s shoulder, eyes falling shut as the eldest resumes reading and tracing the woman’s soft face.

“To this day, any child who stares too long into the charred wasteland will be haunted by nightmares of getting lost while picking berries…”

Bela sighs as she closes the book, gently taking Cassandra’s finger from the cover and placing it on the blanket instead.

The woman too snores softly, just as the youngest sister on Bela’s left.

The blonde gently combs the hair out of Cassandra’s face, smiling as she too presses the last kiss for that night against her sister’s forehead. Then, she too closes her eyes, her arms tightening around the two younger women one more time.

[marilynthornhilllover]

Wanna get drunk & nasty ?

Brienne of tarth x fem! Princess reader

Warning: indecent language, drinking of high beverages, kissing, almost smut, candle wax kink.

Authors note:

Keep in mind I haven't watch the entire game of thrones show I only watched a couple seasons 😪and this is my first brienne fanfic ;)

°☆°☆°☆°☆°☆°☆°☆°☆°☆°☆°☆°☆°☆°☆°☆°☆°☆

You were ridiculously horny and just needed to be fucked. You had just arrived back from your coronation so you were now an official princess.

You always admired your body guard brienne. Yes the great brienne of tarth. Knight of seven kingdoms.

Brienne was a natural beauty. But on other hands she never felt like she was. She was kind, brave, confident and above all, stood no nonsense or bullshit from anyone. Especially men.

On your 20th birthday brienne swore to rule by your side and protect you at all cost.

When you first met brienne you were absolutely taken away by her beauty.

Tall, sexy, beautiful golden blonde hair. With the perfect pale skin.

She noticed the way you looked at her. And you noticed the way she looked at you as well.

Everytime you went sword fighting with her she'd always find an excuse to have you close to her. Have your lips closer to hers.

The way she'd fight with you would make your core throb. You'd always melt inside for her. Her tall figure over yours. Sweating, panting even whimpering at times.

It all made you every horny. There were times where you were at royal events with your parents and just zone out thinking about how good she would fuck you.

Everytime, you caught her staring at you, she'd just quickly look away and pretend to be doing something.

You knew she felt the same way. She had to right?

You wanted to find out, and today was just the right day. It was a royal holiday. Meaning everyone would be at the general market including your parents. Royal holidays were atleast 3 days long.

Your parents wouldn't be back home in 3 days. You overheard them telling brienne to keep a close eye on you, since you had the record of seeking out.

You had just woken up, it was a little bit after noon. You were surprised at how long you've slept. It was around lunch time. You didn't even get to say good bye to your parents before they left.

You were ready to take your morning shower but you were forgetting one thing. You wanted to lay in the bathtub with hot milk and roses but your candles weren't lit. You were always scared of fire, mostly scared of getting burned by accident.

You opened your window to see brienne practicing sword fight in the court yard.

" can I ask you a favor my ser?" She immediately halted her movements and turned to look your way.

God she looked holy. Hair disheveled, nose slightly red from the cold, pupils blown. It was certainly a sight to see.

" anything my lady" she replied, placing her sword back in its place on her side. She tilted her head to the side and licked her eyes as she placed her hands on her hips. You almost forgot what you wanted from her.

" I need you to light my candles if you don't mind" you said, she nodded and made her way inside the castle and up to your room.

In the mean while, you got into the bathtub and laid back, moaning at how relaxing the sensation was.

" my lady?" You heard her call out, peeking behind the bathroom door slightly.

" you can come in" you said lifting your body slightly out of the water so that you can sit up. What you didn't know was that now your breast was showing.

Nipples hard, water dripping from them. Briennes eyes quickly caught sight of them and looked away.

It made her feel things. She couldn't get the image out of her head now, but she tried her best not to look back again.

She lit the candles and proceeded to leave. But that's when her eyes caught sight of a tequila bottle, half empty.

Anger was quick to build up in her. If your parents were to find out that you've been drinking god knows what they'll do to her.

She turned around and tired to speak as calmly as possible.

" what is this" you turned your head to look up at her your boobs still in her sight. You followed her eye line and your eyes quickly widen. She wasn't supposed to see that.

"Shit" you mumbled as you got out of the tub all naked. You hit the bottle with your body. Her eyes raked up your body, she was definitely eye fucking you.

She cleared her throat and refocused her eyes on yours. When her eyes met your gaze, she had a different look in her eyes. It was lust and desire.

"Can I kiss you my lady?" She asked looking at the ground. You smirked, how can the great brienne of tarth be so shy when her record was always to be brave and confident.

" I thought you'd never ask" you replied under your breath. She quickly pushed you against the wall and pressed her lips on yours.

You moaned as she forced her tongue into your mouth, deepening the kiss.

You were so lost in the kiss that you didn't even realize that she had pushed your legs apart and place her knee in between them.

Feeling the cold armor against your cunt made you moan, and you broke the kiss.

" please daddy" you whined, grinding your hips on her armor. She removed her leg and wrapped her big hands around your neck tightly.

Honestly that turned you on more. You just wanted her to destroy you. Ruin you. Make you hers. Make you unable to walk for any upcoming royal events, that's to come.

" does my little slut want daddy's cock, want daddy to stuff you full of her cum, yeah" your head fell back as your eyes rolled back, you could just imagine how good she felt.

She choked you tighter as she leaned into your ear.

" maybe next time. Til then can you wait y/n can you be a good girl for daddy?" She asked nibbling on your earlobe.

You nodded, your head still deep in your trance.

Brienne picked up a candle and poured the melted wax on your leg. You moaned in pain and pleasure, looking down on your leg to see the wax already getting hard on your leg.

You looked up at her to see that she was awaiting her response and quickly answered.

" Yes daddy, I'll wait like the good girl I am for you"

" good girl" she said letting go of your neck.

" next time maybe I'll teach you how to ride" she mumbled before leaving.

You still felt her lips on you, her hand around your neck, her knee inbetween your legs pressed on your cunt, the candle wax. You needed more.

But until next time, you were gonna be a good girl.....

Pt 2? ;)

[alatismeni-theitsa]

https://www.tumblr.com/colombinna/735969619167281152/song-of-achilles-fans-nooo-im-not-colorist-of

Theitsa, I just came across this and I've got to admit I'm confusion: 1) Doesn't Miller spend many pages referring to how "fair" Achilles is compared to other Greeks, to the point where it gets disturbing?

2) Does Miller and her readers even realise that a "dark" Greek doesn't look the same as a "dark" Indian or a "dark" Afghani? Like, I've seen how weirdly she describes the skin colour of Greeks but I always thought it was her pretentious, flowery prose, I didn't think she was a) that ignorant or b) purposely altering their appearence.

For context, that's the linked post (please don't harass OP if you come in conact with them)

1) Doesn't Miller spend many pages referring to how "fair" Achilles is compared to other Greeks, to the point where it gets disturbing?

Hmm not sure about that. There were some references from what I remember but I am not sure if it gets disturbing if we consider the ancient Greek view of blond people. For ancient Greeks a light skinned person with golden hair was like a god because it was so rare to see such an appearance in this area. Although I oppose Miller's approach in many cases, I think what she attempted here was to reflect the importance of this difference for the ancient Greeks and the message war more or less shown. Even today when Greeks see a naturally blond person they attempt to learn if they are actually Greek for many generations, because it's extremely rare and you can hear Greeks from time to time mention their time with a "natural blond Greek" as if it was a miracle 😂

What I mostly disagreed with is how she described the skin tones of Greeks, which gave me the "western exotisation" feeling.

What was even weirder for me in the novel is that Patroclus gives the impression of considering his own darker skin as something negative. This view is not supported by the ancient Greek beauty standards for men, since being tanned was generally desireable. Miller probably fails to understand that she wasn't dealing with modern western world racism. In the ancient Greek world the admired by the ancients fairness of Achilles doesn't mean "fair = better" for men's beauty standards. Only if your appearance was veery different than the average man there was a problem if you were too dark or too light.

I also feel like the "pale fanart Achilles" complaint OP has shows ignorance and (unknowingly) the hidden old racist notion of "all Greeks are dark and can tan". OP and other people should know that being natural blond and dark skinned for native Greeks like Achilles is almost impossible. Blond Greeks whose families were locals for centuries have light skin in the overwhelming majority of circumstances and I have yet to see the opposite. So it is actually accurate to make Achilles generally light skinned. Perhaps not "British pale" and certainly not "Swedish blond" but the guy is probably lucky to be able to tan a little 😂 (many Greeks, especially light haired ones can barely tan)

2) Does Miller and her readers even realise that a "dark" Greek doesn't look the same as a "dark" Indian or a "dark" Afghani?

She probably doesn't see a difference, if I'm honest. For many westerners anything darker than snow goes to "Brown" category and "Brown" people are seen as having an interchangeable appearance, if I judge even from the fanarts of progressive Westerners. Many of her western readers probably hold the same opinion.

2) Like, I've seen how weirdly she describes the skin colour of Greeks but I always thought it was her pretentious, flowery prose, I didn't think she was a) that ignorant or b) purposely altering their appearence.

OH SWEET SUMMER CHILD 😭😭😭

Last but not least: In the Iliad I don't remember a distinct difference of skintone mentioned between Achilles and Patroclus. They probably both had the average light-with-tanning-ability skin of the average Greek man of central Greece. (Given that one of them is freaking BLOND I had to find a middle way 😂) But what I wanted to say is that what made them nearly indistinguishable in battle was 1) the armor 2) the fighting style. I suppose if some skin was shown, it was kinda similar. But if Patroclus was darker perhaps the chaos of battle didn't allow people to pay attention to it.

[ticklygiggles]

Miya&Mia's Tickletober Day 5 - Disguise

Elias Ainsworth x Hatori Chise

A/N: Thanks to my sweetest Ginny for giving me the idea for this fic? You are an angel! As always, I hope you all enjoy this!

Chise didn't know much about men's looks. She didn't know what her type was and she certainly didn't know what was considered handsome or not good looking, so she thought she was not the right person for this task in particular.

"Now, what do you think about this, Chise? Do I look better with black hair?" 

"U-Uh…"

"Waaa!" Silky clapped har hands happily, nodding her head in approval. On the other hand, Ruth simply huffed and nuzzled himself closer to Chise's lap. 

When Elias asked her to help him choose a new disguise for a trip he had to do, she immediately said no, but Elias insisted that he'd like to look good for his bride, even if she wasn't going to be there with him.

"You look… good, Elias."

"Chise… I feel like you don't like anything I show you," Elias said and Chise could clearly see the disappointment on his face and... was that a pout? 

"I told you I'm not good at this," Chise said, feeling an uncomfortable feeling in her guts at the thought of disappointing him. Silky quickly read the mood and she was quick to leave to the kitchen.

Ruth looked at Chise and then at Elias. Chise's feelings were settled in his guts as well, but feeling like it was something Elias and Chise had to talk over, he left behind Silky, claiming that he wanted a snack. 

Elias sighed and he made his way towards Chise, sitting beside her. Chise couldn't lie and say she didn't like Elias like that, he looked… well, he looked attractive with black hair, she felt something akin to butterflies at seeing him like that. 

In other words, she didn't hate it compared to the other disguises he had shown them for the past forty minutes. She would even say she liked it. 

"I'm honest," she said, quietly, looking at Elias who looked back at her with very extravagant golden eyes. "You really look good this time. It's my favorite so far."

That made Elias's face light up; if there had been a tail behind him, it would most likely be wagging hard.

He grabbed Chise's hands between his and asked excitedly: "do you mean it, Chise?! Or are you just being kind?" 

Chise smiled fondly, shaking her head. His reaction relieved her. "I'm honest," she said, but her eyes landed on Elias' smile and she frowned. "Though… no matter what disguise you wear, your smile will always be fake." 

Elias gasped, his fingers touching the frozen smile on his face. "It doesn't look real? What about this?" He showed his white teeth to her and she frowned a little more. 

"Fake."

"Huh? Then what should I do to make it look real? I can't smile more than this, it is uncomfortable and it hurts my cheeks and- ack! N-Nohoho! Nohohot thihihis!"

"I think we can only do this."

Elias cringed away from Chise's hands, but she easily followed him, smiling brightly and giggling sweetly as her fingers danced around Elias' ribs, making him cackle, little tears if laughter already at the corner of his eyes. 

Chise felt a little breathless. Elias really looked nice in this disguise, she definitely liked him better than with blond hair. He somehow looked younger and full of life. She liked it. 

"Ahahahaha! Ch-Chihihisehehe! Hahahave mehehehercy!" 

Chise didn't know how, but she was nearly straddling Elias as he laid against the surface of the couch, squirming and laughing vibrantly. His rich, deep laughter filled the house and her heart. 

She giggled softly when she found a very ticklish spot on his highest ribs that had him shrieking with laughter. After tickling him for a few seconds, she finally stopped, sitting properly as Elias tried to control his giggling and get himself back up. 

"Chihise," he said a little out of breath. "You often doho this, do you like to see me suffer so much?"

Chise smiled, shaking her head. "I like your laugh." 

"Well, I also like yours, Chise."

Before she could even think about escaping, Elias had caught her by the waist and was gently tickling her sides, making her giggle brightly. 

"Nahahahat mehehe!" She laughed, trying to free herself from his hold. "Ehehehliahahas!" 

"I think your smile was a little fake, Chise. Let me help you with that just like you did."

"I don't need- ahahahaha! N-Nahahahaha!"

[solemn-marauders]

Theadora Gravethorne Lore

"Theadora Gravethorne" was the name that was pinned to her dress when she was found on the orphanage's doorstep, with no memories, at the assumed age of 5. Most everyone calls her "Thea", a small few call her "Thee".

Basic Information

Birthdate: 30th of June.

Zodiac Sign: Cancer

She did not know her date of birth until Professor Fig informed her. I have written out this scene. This also coincides with the canonical event within the game where a strange magical disturbance happened on June 30th the school year before Thea arrives.

Hogwarts House: Gryffindor.

Patronus: Female Thestral.

Wand: Yew wood stained black, Thestral hair core (I have written a lore about how this is possible), 12 inches, Hard.

Animal Companion(s): A male raven named Montgomery, Monty for short, and a female black cat named Sarina.

Amortentia: The scent of an oncoming thunderstorm, the seaside, and a blend of earl grey, books, and singed pine.

Boggart: Undetermined.

Aminagus: Undetermined.

Quidditch Position: Chaser

Appearance

Eye Color: Blue-grey

Hair: Pre-5th year her hair is long, wavy, and dark golden blonde/light golden brown. After every Keeper Trail, and absorption of Ancient Magic, her hair gains streak of pure white. After absorbing the magic in the Repository, the entirety of her hair becomes stark white.

Height: 5'6" (167.64 cm), quite above average for the time period.

Distinguishing Marks: A scattering of moles across her face and body.

Personality

• Brave • Daring • Stubborn • Reckless • Inquisitive • Resilient •

Thea was quiet and kept to herself growing up. Since she didn’t have her previous memories, she had a really hard time with her identity. She didn't speak a word her entire first year at the orphanage.

After completely leaving her comfort zone once she learned of her abilities, those she met at Hogwarts helped to bring her out of her shell. She learns that the wizarding world isn't as stringent as muggle proper society is. She learns that she's actually quite bold (aka sassy) and enjoys a good sense of humor.

She's exceedingly loyal to those who earn her trust, which is difficult to do. For an example, she becomes Sebastian's ride-or-die when he takes the fall for sneaking into the Restricted Section. If you're in Thea's circle of trust, better get comfortable, because she can become quite possessive. She's never had friends before, so the ones she makes she wants to keep forever, as long as there's no betrayal.

She can have a nasty temper. She loathes being the last to know something and she's blown up at the Keepers more than once for their silly games and wasting her time. This temper goes hand-in-hand with her wicked competitive nature. She loves a good challenge; whether it be Gobstones, dueling, Summoner's Court, Quidditch, you name it.

Overall, she's an introvert who is touch-starved and wants to be loved and recognized for the person she is more than anything else.

Likes: Reading, researching (the world of magic is fascinating to her and she wants to know everything), the raspberry pastries with icing the Hogwarts elves make, raspberries in general, dark chocolate Peppermint Toads, flowers (honeysuckle particularly), graveyards, being cared about/for.

Dislikes: Being the last to know things, being made to feel small/stupid, licorice, jump scares.

Background

Was raised in a muggle boarding school for girls who are taught to become governesses or school teachers. It’s located in London, so she grew up in the city. 

Her time at the orphanage wasn’t bad. Given that it’s more of a boarding school where orphaned girls can learn skills that can earn them jobs/apprenticeships in the outside world, it’s actually constructive. Also, it has a lot of high society patrons that check in often and certainly want their school to appear the best. A status symbol for sure, but at least it’s benefiting the girls.

Dropped off at the school around the age of 5 with no memory. She was found with a piece of paper that only had a name written on it. We learn later that her memories were suppressed or erased either by potion or spell.

Some of the girls thought her strange, some understood her being withdrawn, and some were jealous. Things seemed to come easily to Thea, like luck was always on her side. When really this “luck” were miniscule demonstrations of her magical abilities. She wouldn’t know about this connection until it’s explained to her. She too, just thought she was lucky with small things.

Was later learned that she spoke proper English and was well-mannered, but she had remained mute for at least the first year at the school.

She already knew how to read and write.

All of the above hinted that she may have belonged to “proper society”. Some of the nuns at the school speculated that she may have been the result of an affair between a member of the peerage and a commoner, and that’s why she was well-educated but eventually abandoned. 

She looked well taken care of when they found her on the steps of the school.

Her parents are still alive but it’s MESSY and angsty.

Has two familiars/animal companions. A male raven named Monty and a female black cat named Sarina. Thea found Monty as an abandoned hatchling while at the orphanage and raised him. While at the orphanage, he mostly stays outside but always remains close by. He often brings Thea items; coins, herbs, flowers, etc. She later learns that throughout her life, he had been bringing her items that related to her dormant magical nature; i.e. things that are commonly used in potions or have magical properties.

Sarina just appeared one day and adopted Thea.

Thea will later learn that she is a descendant of the architect of Hogwarts, who in my HC was also an Ancient Magic vessel. (I'm not kidding when I say that I have a whole lore and historical timeline written about Ancient Magic).

Her birth name will be different than the one she knows.

Miriam Fig, in her search for answers about ancient magic, learns about an orphan who may have some sort of connection with/to it.

Miriam visits Thea at the orphanage. Possibly under the guise that she will have a job for her when her schooling is finished or will offer Thea an apprenticeship with her.

Miriam plans to “take on” Thea once she’s old enough. Miriam has deduced through Percival and Isidora that Thea’s powers will come to full manifestation at or around 15 years old. She wants to ease Thea into the Wizarding World and properly prepare her. Unfortunately, she is killed by Ranrok before that happens. Miriam tells Eleazar about Thea before her death. Once Ranrok became a real threat and her search became dangerous, she sends a letter to her husband telling him about Thea and that she’s special and will need him.

Masterlist of Writings and Fanart

[tameodesza]

🍓Strawberry Prince

₊˚⊹♡ Prince!Shawn Michaels x Commoner!Bret Hart ♡⊹˚₊

masterlist | AO3 link

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ Summary: Prince Shawn begins his courtship with Bret, but all it takes is one day for them to fall for each other.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ a/n: meant to get this out sooner, but I’ve been sick all week. but anything for the people 🫡

Bret stood outside of his humble home, feet shifting restlessly against the ground as he anxiously awaited the prince’s arrival. It felt like it was just yesterday that he received his letter of courtship, a messenger from the palace hand-delivering the official document folded neatly into a thick white enveloped, sealed in gold metallic wax imprinted with the McMahon family’s crest.

Bret had been giddy with glee, but a bit disappointed that the courting date on his letter was two months away. For two months, not a day went by that he didn’t think about the prince – their conversation at the palace, the kindness that was shown to him, how beautiful the prince was. He could only anticipate the day he’d be graced with Shawn’s presence again.

But as delighted as Bret was to see the prince once more, he also grew more concerned as the date approached, often questioning how he, a common man, could impress the young prince, a person who had everything he could ever want at his fingertips. 

It was without a doubt that Duke Mark and King Ric could spoil Shawn with all of their riches, both men coming from nobility and wealth. Unfortunately, Bret knew he wouldn’t be able to do the same. And seeing Shawn on his outing with King Ric certainly hadn’t helped to ease his worries.

After an encouraging pep talk from his family, Bret decided the best thing he could do was be authentic. Show the prince the real him and hope his personality alone would be enough to capture the prince’s heart.

Shawn looked out the window of his carriage in awe as he neared Bret’s home, feeling a sense of peace he’d never experienced in the confines of the royal palace. He admired the nature they were surrounded by, the beautiful landscape where animals roamed free, and the simple cottage homes they passed by as they ventured further down the dirt road.

As the carriage slowed to a stop, Shawn’s peace evolved into a nervous excitement once his eyes landed on Bret. He thought the man looked so handsome in his simple attire, the older man wearing a white linen shirt, loose brown pants, and thick work boots.

Shawn looked down at his own attire, feeling a bit overdressed in his white button-up long-sleeved shirt, gold cufflinks, tailored tan pants, and fancy loafers. Just before his guard could open the carriage’s door, Shawn quickly rid himself of his too-tight hair tie, freeing his golden locks before unbuttoning the top two buttons of his shirt in an effort to look more casual.

Bret’s heart dropped upon seeing Shawn descend the carriage’s steps, hair blowing gently in the wind, the light breeze carrying his sweet-smelling cologne towards Bret’s nose. The blond looked ethereal as the sunlight reflected off the diamonds in his necklace, his blue eyes having their own twinkle under the rays.

As Shawn neared Bret with a soft smile on his lips, Bret’s nerves seemed to melt away, the butterflies in his stomach reminding him that there was no other man he’d rather spend his time with.

“Prince,” Bret said in a breathless whisper, not even knowing how to start a conversation with the beautiful man.

Shawn said lightly, “Please, just call me Shawn. If you are to be my betrothed, you shall call me by name.”

Shawn’s guard on duty, Sebastian, tilted his head at the odd request, noting that the prince hadn’t given his other suitors the same privilege. Alarmed, Sebastian proclaimed, “My Lord, if I may, it is customary for commoners, such as Mr. Hart, to address royalty by the proper title-”

“And being that I am royalty, I can choose how others address me. Can I not?”

Under Shawn’s pointed glare, Sebastian immediately backed down, saying, “Yes, of course. My apologies, young prince.”

Bret could only look on in astonishment at Shawn’s power play, impressed that the blond could make such a high-ranking guard squirm from a mere look.

Shawn’s smile returned as said to Bret, “It’s nice to see you again, Bret. You look rather dashing.”

Bret thought otherwise, his attire being put together at the last minute as the rest of his clothes were still air-drying. But he kept that to himself, instead choosing to compliment the blond. “You as well,  Pr- I mean Shawn,” he corrected himself.

“You think so,” Shawn asked insecurely, hoping for the first time in his life that he didn’t look as dolled up as he had when he’d first arrived. “Thank you.”

“Of course,” Bret answered before holding his arm out in invitation. “Shall we?”

Shawn stepped forward, wrapping his hand around Bret’s arm without a moment’s hesitation. “We shall. Lead the way.”

Bret led Shawn inside of his home, giving him a small tour of the two-story wooden structure. Though he thought it wasn’t much to brag about, he thought it was a good way to show Shawn where he came from.

He was surprised to find that as they walked through the modest home, Shawn seemed infatuated in the place. There were no rooms full of pointless furniture sitting as decoration or overpriced décor hanging about. It felt cozy, lived-in, and not soulless and cold like the palace.

As they reached the back door of the house, Shawn noticed a pile of shoes strewn haphazardly across the floor, prompting Bret to explain, “I have a lot of siblings, as well as a hoard of nieces and nephews. The house is usually filled with my family, but they’re all out in the market right now.”

Shawn said in concern, “I hope I am not impeding on your duty to work today.”

“It’s fine. I have plenty of family to cover for me. Besides, missing a day’s work is worth spending just a moment with you.”

Shawn couldn’t hide his blush, bashfully looking away from Bret’s tender eyes. While doing so, his eyes landed on a swing located in the backyard. He lit up, excitedly asking, “You have a swing? We were never allowed those at the palace.” Another consequence of never being allowed to be a kid under the monarchy’s watch.

Bret raised a brow as he observed Shawn’s longing look, asking, “Would you like to give it a go?”

Shawn nodded enthusiastically, as he said, “May I?”

Bret didn’t know if it was the fact that Shawn, a member of the monarchy, asked him for permission or the fact that Shawn looked absolutely adorable, but his heart melted at the question, answering, “Of course, you may.”

Shawn barely fit on the swing, it being meant for children the size of Bret’s nieces and nephews. But that didn’t stop the prince from squeezing onto the wooden plank. After Shawn was settled, Bret stood behind him and gave a gentle push.

Sebastian abruptly warned, “Remember that physical contact is limited only to the holding of the arms, Mr. Hart.”

Bret instantly pulled his hand away, not wanting to get in trouble with the guard. However, Shawn nipped that in the bud when he said flippantly, “Nothing harmful will come of a light push, Sebastian. It is fine.”

Sebastian stood there puzzled, conflicted between enforcing the orders given to him by the palace officials or following orders given to him by the prince. But with no officials in sight, he inevitably decided to give in to the prince’s demands as long as no harm came of it.

Seeing that Sebastian ceased his protest, Bret gave another push, his heart warming at the joyous laughter Shawn let out as he was pushed higher into the air. It was sweet to know that something as simple as a swing could bring the prince so much happiness.

Unbeknownst to them, a smile also made its way onto Sebastian’s face before he quickly straightened his expression.

Once Shawn was satisfied with the swing, they headed over to the stables located just a few feet from the Harts’ house. Shawn led the way almost too eagerly as Bret and Sebastian struggled to catch up to the young man.

Upon reaching the stable, Shawn was immediately enamored when his eyes landed on a beautiful brown horse that neighed at his arrival.

A smile graced Bret’s face as he entered the stable, approaching Shawn as he said, “So, I see you’ve met Lucy.”

“Lucy? That’s a pretty name. Hey, Lucy,” Shawn gently greeted as he held up his hand, allowing Lucy to get acquainted with him. Shawn’s smile widened as Lucy brushed her nose against his hand, prompting the blond to softly brush his hand alongside her neck. “How long have you had her?”

Bret was slow to answer, shocked with Lucy’s interaction with Shawn being that she was one of their grumpier horses. “For quite some time. She’s one of the horses we use to pull our crops to the market.”

“One of?”

“Yes, we have two in total, Lucy and Bo. But we swap them out. Don’t want to overwork them especially with how heavy our crops can get on those carts.”

Shawn nodded, chuckling lightly as Lucy leaned her weight closer against his hand. “That’s very thoughtful, Bret. Your family must take very good care of them.”

“Most certainly. Without them we wouldn’t have a business. So we try to treat them like gold as much as we can. Even though this one doesn’t like me very much,” Bret said as he attempted to pet the horse, but Lucy sneered in his direction. “I don’t know why she always does that.”

“That’s because you’re doing it wrong,” Shawn softly quipped. “Don’t be so heavy-handed. Here.” Shawn grabbed Bret’s hand, the touch making both of their hearts flutter, before lightly placing Bret’s hand onto Lucy, guiding it slowly across the horse’s neck.

“It can’t be,” Bret whispered in astonishment.

“See? You must be gentle.”

Bret was stunned into silence as Shawn lifted his hand from his, Lucy allowing him to pet her without putting up a fight. After receiving a satisfied whinny from the horse, Bret said to Shawn, “Wow, you’re good at this. Do you have experience with horses?”

It was a simple question, but one that unknowingly took Shawn back to a place he tried so hard to forget. Bret noticed Shawn’s sorrowful expression, fearing he’d somehow offended the prince. Just as he was about to apologize, Shawn said with a distant look in his eye, “I had a horse once. Biscuit.”

Bret was unsure on if he should pry into a topic that seemed to be quite sensitive for the blond. But he was curious, wanting to gain an understanding on what made the prince who he was. He asked gently, “What happened to Biscuit?”

Shawn sighed, looking at Lucy as he answered, “My father got rid of her. I…I don’t really want to get into the details.”

“Then we won’t,” Bret promised, concluding that whatever happened to Biscuit must’ve ended tragically. He instead asked, “What was she like?”

The question brought a sudden smile to Shawn’s face, the blond turning to Bret as he answered, “She was a feisty one, but sweet. And very intelligent. I’d won so many tournaments with her, and I even taught her a few tricks. She was the closest I had to owning a pet as they’re not allowed in the palace.”

Bret blinked in surprise. “No pets? Not even dogs?”

Bret’s surprise shifted to disappointment once the prince shook his head no. Much of Bret’s joy during childhood came from the various pets they had growing up in the Hart house. Out of curiosity, he asked, “Did you ever get another horse after Biscuit?”

“No, I quit riding after I hurt my back. No horse could replace her anyway, so there would be no point in getting another.”

Bret sympathized with Shawn, sad to know that the prince had such a strict upbringing. He knew royals were pressured to present themselves a certain way to the public, but he hadn’t realized how the expectation may have impacted Shawn’s childhood. It was no wonder to him now why Shawn seemed so excited at seeing the swing.

After a final goodbye to Lucy, they headed away from the stables, Shawn looping his arm around Bret’s as the man led them miles away to their crop fields, the land expanding miles into the horizon.

Along the way, their comfortable silence was filled with idle chatter as Bret commented, “I must say, I was quite shocked to learn that you wanted to travel all this way to Beauville for our courting.”

Shawn shrugged, tightening his hold onto Bret’s arm as he said, “Why not? It’s just as fine of a town as any other. If not, better.”

Bret beamed, “It pleases me that you think so highly of my small village. Many wouldn’t share your kind sentiment.”

“Well, I must admit that I am a bit biased. I’ve had some fun times in your village. Though my fun has often turned into troubles for the palace.”

Bret snickered as he nodded, “Yes, I remember the headlines. ‘Young Prince Bares His Crown Jewels at Local Beauville Pub.’”

Shawn gasped, playfully tapping Bret’s arm, Sebastian silently scrutinizing the touch behind them. Shawn said with a laugh, “Hey, that was one time!”

One time, but a wild time. The blond had convinced a newly hired guard, Kevin Nash, to take him to the village past curfew, bar hopping until the wee hours of early morning. Kevin was closer to Shawn’s age than the other guards and was easily persuaded to let the blond engage in debaucherous acts, Kevin sometimes joining in. For that reason, along with rumors of the two screwing around, Kevin did not last long on the job.

After their laughter died down, Shawn said, “Beauville has always treated me well. It’s a place that has brought me great joy. And potentially, has gifted me a great husband.” Bret couldn’t help his wide grin, trying to hide his blush, but failing as Shawn said triumphantly, “I saw that!”

“You saw nothing.”

They continued their walk, sometimes chatting about nonsense, and other times allowing the comfortable silence to float between them.

Their walking slowed to a stop upon reaching a particular spot, Bret announcing, “This section of land is reserved for our strawberry fields.”

Shawn gasped, excitedly squealing as he looked around, his eyes landing on the strawberries sprouting from the stems along the ground. “This is really where it’s grown?!”

“Yes, and these here are just about ready for picking.”

“Really? How can you tell?”

Bret stooped down to the ground, looking for a good example. After finding a good strawberry, he plucked it off the stem, placing it in his palm before standing to show Shawn.

Shawn leaned over Bret’s palm, listening intently as the man explained, “The biggest thing to look for is a consistent color. We like for our strawberries to be red from the top to the tip. The leaves at the top should be a healthy green, not brown or dried. Also, the fruit should be firm, not hard. With all of those conditions present, you should have a sweet, delicious strawberry.”

Shawn broke his attention from the strawberry to look at Bret, wondering how a man’s knowledge about strawberries could be so attractive. He looked back to the fruit, asking curiously, “Am I allowed to eat it?”

“I’m afraid not. It needs a good wash before it can be consumed. But if you’d like, we can pick some for you to take back to the palace.”

Shawn said with a doe-eyed expression, “That would be lovely.”

After gathering a basket, most of their afternoon was spent in the strawberry fields talking casually as they picked strawberries that were ripe enough for consumption.

During their conversation, Shawn learned more about Bret’s background - his large family, his activities in the market, and his efforts to help the community. Shawn found it admirable that not only was Bret a hardworking man making an honest living, but he cared for his fellow villagers, helping out wherever he could.

Shawn also asked Bret more strawberry-related questions, Bret informing him of the appropriate climate and soil needed to properly grow strawberries.

Bret hoped the knowledge he shared would allow the prince to grow his own at the palace, to which Shawn responded, “The staff would have a fit if they ever saw me doing manual labor. Besides, my strawberries wouldn’t be as good as yours.”

“If you closely follow my instructions, they will.”

Shawn answered cheekily, “You know, I’ve never been one for following the rules, Bret.”

Bret gave a sly smile of his own saying, “That’s apparent, Shawn.” Bret then glanced over his shoulder, eyes landing on Sebastian who’d been following from a safe distance, too far to hear their conversation but too close for comfort. Bret asked, “Do they always follow you like this?”

Shawn looked over at Sebastian as well before looking to Bret, answering, “Usually. I’m used to it by now, but it does get rather annoying. I understand that it is for my safety, but I yearn for a moment where I can be truly in private.” Bret would like that as well, not comfortable with the way he felt Sebastian’s eyes on them throughout the day.  

Shawn took a moment to observe their surroundings, noticing that just ahead of them stood the cornfields with grass that towered above their heads. He then turned around seeing Sebastian momentarily distracted as he tried to readjust his hold onto Shawn’s strawberry basket.

Then Shawn got a wild idea.

He leaned close to Bret, keeping his eyes on Sebastian as he whispered, “We ditch him on three.”

Bret’s eyes widened as he asked, “What?”

“Three!”

Shawn took off running towards the tall grass, Bret trailing behind puzzled as he tried to catch up to the younger man.

After hearing the shuffling of feet and seeing that Shawn and Bret had taken off, Sebastian followed in a panicked sprint, struggling to hold the basket of strawberries as he ran shouting the prince’s name. But he was no match for their speed, the guard losing sight of the men as they entered through the tall grass.

Shawn ended up leading them away from the cop fields, veering off path into the trees of the nearby forest. Once Shawn was certain they’d lost Sebastian, he came to a stop, laughing wildly as he rested his back against a tree.

Bret rested next to him, panting heavily trying to catch his breath before joining Shawn in laughter, saying, “You’re insane.”

“Maybe so, but that was so exhilarating! Ugh, I just know Sebastian’s going to give me an earful when we get back.”

“Yeah, me too.”

“You’ll be fine. It’s me he doesn’t have to save face for.”

Shawn sank down onto the forest floor, not caring of the dirt rubbing against his expensive clothing. He beckoned for Bret to sit next to him which the older man happily obliged. Bret asked, “You think the palace will hear of this?”

“Not if I bat my eyes innocently at Sebastian. He’s always had a soft spot for me, so I don’t think he’d tell.”

“Good.”

“Why? Are you scared?”

“No, but I’d rather not have anyone thinking I’ve kidnapped the prince.”

“But is it really kidnap if I’m willing to go,” Shawn asked, causing them both to chuckle.

“I’m afraid it’s whatever the palace deems it to be.”

“Well, you’re not wrong about that.” Shawn shifted a bit to sit more comfortably, resting his head against the tree as he sighed, “This day has been so fun. I don’t want it to end.”

Bret said in relief, “I’m happy to hear that. I know it’s not a royal outing but-”

“It’s perfect. Simple. Like you,” Shawn answered as he lifted his head from the tree to get a better look at Bret.

Bret curled a brow, playfully asking, “You think I’m perfect?”

Shawn snickered, “No, you silly man. Simple. Everything about you is simple. Your profession, your family, your lifestyle. It’s nice. I’m actually quite envious.”

Bret said with a shrug, “You make it sound better than it really is.”

“Because it is better. Trust me, being this kingdom’s beloved prince is not all it’s cracked up to be,” Shawn muttered as he brought his knees into his chest, wrapping his arms around his shins.

Noticing Shawn’s change in demeanor, Bret apologized, “I didn’t mean to upset you-”

“You didn’t,” Shawn said, resting his head atop his knees as he looked blankly at the ground. “It’s just…it sucks sometimes, you know? Living a life where no one sees you. Where they only see the status. The power. The money. No one sees me.”

It saddened Bret immensely to know Shawn felt that way about himself, the blond being much more than royalty to him. Bret hesitated before putting a comforting hand on Shawn’s shoulder, the blond lifting his head to face him.

Bret said tenderly, “I see you, Shawn. When I look at you, I don’t just see a prince. I see a young man with aspirations to freely live his life, to break the social norms, to unapologetically be himself. I see a man who appreciates the little things, who is great with animals. You’re a good person, Shawn. You’re nice, funny, kind, and not afraid to get your hands dirty for some strawberries.” 

That got a laugh out of Shawn, the blond saying, “Well, they are worth getting dirty for.”

Bret nodded with a smile before saying sincerely, “Look, I know I’m not the most…ideal person for you. I certainly wouldn’t be the palace’s top pick, and I can’t promise you a life of riches. But what I can promise you is a life where you’re put first, Shawn. Where your feelings matter, and not the opinions of some old aristocrats. But a life where you’re seen. I see you.”

Tears pricked at Shawn’s eyes, touched at the sincerity behind Bret’s words. Shawn wiped at his eyes, chuckling, “Don’t mind me. I’ve always been a crier.”

Bret stretched out the sleeve of his shirt before moving Shawn’s hand away, using his sleeve to dab away Shawn’s tears. After seeing that Shawn’s eyes were dry, Bret said with a warm smile, “There.”

A quiet moment passed as they sat looking into each other’s eyes, both aware of how close they were. Shawn whispered, “You know, there’s one thing you got wrong.”

“What?”

Shawn’s cheeks reddened, eyes shifting away before returning back to Bret, shyly answering, “You are the ideal person for me, Bret. Any man that’s willing to go out of his comfort zone to be with me, to deal with the bullshit royalty brings when he could just continue living a simple life is an ideal man for me.”

Bret’s heart quickened at the admission, Shawn’s words seeming to confirm his own feelings. Bret asked, “But what about the opinions of the monarchy?”

“Fuck the monarchy.”

Bret was surprised to hear the bold statement coming from the member of the royal family, but he was even more relieved to know that the prince felt strongly about him. “Do you really mean that?”

Shawn scooted closer to Bret, whispering, “I do. And I know it’s probably too soon to say this, especially with the courting process still ongoing, but I like you, Bret. I really do. No other man has made me feel the way you have. And what I’m about to do is going to get me in a world of trouble if anyone ever finds out.”

“What do you me-”

Before Bret could finish his question, Shawn leaned forward, closing his eyes before planting a soft kiss onto Bret’s lips. Bret quickly reciprocated, not caring of the courting rules as he melted into the kiss, applying pressure against Shawn’s lips.

Shawn was also aware of the rules they were breaking, but that’s what made it even more exciting. With Bret, there were no rules. Shawn could truly be himself around him, not caring of the consequences. Yes, Mark was nice. And yes, Ric spoiled him in riches. But they were royals, too afraid to even breathe the wrong way around Shawn.

But Bret wasn’t afraid to show Shawn how he felt. And that became even more apparent as Shawn felt the older man slip a tongue past his lips, to which the blond gladly welcomed.

Shawn placed a hand on the side of Bret’s neck, deepening the kiss as he drew them closer together while Bret placed a hand onto Shawn’s waist in a firm grip. Shawn let a light moan slip out, the sound being a turn on for the older man.

It’s no telling how far the two would have gone had it not been for them hearing the faint sound of Sebastian shouting, “ Prince Shawn! Where are you?! Please come out!”

They broke away from the kiss, breathing heavily as they looked into each other’s eyes, a smile gracing both of their lips. Shawn dipped his head into Bret’s neck groaning, “Damn his bad timing.”

Bret snickered, rubbing a soothing hand across Shawn’s back as he relayed, “He is only doing his job. What if the big bad commoner snatched away the dearest prince?”

“Then the big bad commoner would be doing this prince a favor.”

They sat there for a short while enjoying each other’s embrace until there was another frantic shout from Sebastian. Shawn reluctantly pulled away, saying, “I guess we should go before he loses his head.” 

“Agreed,” Bret nodded about to get up, but was stopped when Shawn pulled him into a light peck. 

Shawn pouted as he whined, “I want to stay with you.”

Bret nodded, rubbing gently on Shawn’s shoulder saying, “I know. I want to stay with you, too. But I don’t want you getting into any more trouble, ok?”

“Ok,” Shawn moped.

After one more long-lasting kiss, they made their way back into the crop fields, meeting Shawn’s distressed guard halfway. It was obvious that Sebastian was on the verge of demanding the prince of his whereabouts, but remembered his place, saying politely, “Welcome back, young prince. I have been awaiting your arrival.”

Shawn stopped himself from smiling before saying, “Sorry, Sebastian. We got lost.”

Sebastian didn’t seem to believe them, saying to Bret, “Need I remind you, Mr. Hart, that it is a security breach to take off with the prince without supervision.”

“It’s my fault,” said Shawn, not wanting the blame to be put on Bret. “I asked him to race me and we got lost. That is all. Please do not blame him for my mistake.”

And as expected, Sebastian folded under Shawn’s plea. “Of course, my Lord. But may I request that you not run off again for it causes me great worry.”

Shawn felt a little bad at that, not meaning to stress out his guard. He answered, “You have my word.”

As the sun began to set, their day had sadly come to a close. Shawn needed to head back to the palace before dark and Bret’s family would be back home soon. But that didn’t stop the men from taking their time walking back to Shawn’s carriage, neither man wanting to part.

As they neared the carriage, Sebastian announced, “Well, we best be off. The prince has a few duties that must be taken care of tonight.”

“Can you give us a minute,” Shawn asked Sebastian with a hopeful look in his eye.

Sebastian was hesitant but agreed, saying, “Sure, my Lord. But I implore you not to get lost again.”

Shawn smiled awkwardly, waiting for his guard to get out of hearing range before whispering to Bret. “Thank you for today. I really enjoyed myself and… I meant what I said back there. I really do like you, Bret.”

Bret grinned, “I like you, too.”

“Good. I’m glad I didn’t scare you away yet.”

Bret chucked, “You could never scare me away.”

“I’m glad to hear that. Royal life can be a bit…overwhelming. So I’d understand if you’re having second thoughts.”

Bret grabbed Shawn’s hand but pulled away at hearing Sebastian clear his throat in the distance. He and Shawn smiled sheepishly at each other before he reassured, “I knew what I signed up for since the day I arrived for suitor selection. I know I’m not from your world and will likely get judged for it, and I know how shallow and vain royals can be. No offense.”

“None taken.”

“But you’re nothing of the sort. As long as I have you by my side, I’ll be able to get through it.”

“You’re saying all the right things,” Shawn said in a sing-songy voice, to which they both chuckled. “They’ll have no choice but to respect you if we marry. Prince Bret. Has a nice ring to it, don’t you think?”

Bret stalled, “I…actually haven’t given that much thought.”

It was the first time he realized what marrying Shawn meant. He’d be marrying into wealth. His status would be elevated. His life would never be the same. But as he looked into Shawn’s beautiful blue eyes, he knew the change would be worth it.

“Well, think on it because the reality may be closer than you think.” Shawn then sighed, saying sadly, “My heart’s heavy that we must part.” Being with Bret had brought him comfort and he couldn’t help the empty feeling inside at him leaving.

“Likewise,” said Bret.

Not wanting to end their night on a sour note, Bret peaked at Sebastian before turning back to Shawn, daring to plant a light kiss on his cheek.

“I saw that,” Sebastian said in an annoyed grunt.

Shawn snickered, saying teasingly, “You’re in trouble now.”

They laughed in tandem, neither wanting the sweet moment to end. But they had no choice as Sebastian neared, announcing, “Sorry to interrupt, my Lord, but we must leave now to make it back in time for supper.”

It was a melancholy parting of ways, both men unwilling to leave each other’s side. As Bret watched Shawn’s carriage pull off into the sunset, he could only hope that the other suitors hadn’t captured Shawn’s heart the way Shawn had captured his.

Little did he know, Shawn grinned the whole way back to the palace, knowing he wanted to spend the rest of his life with Bret.

[fuckyeah-dragrace]

Too Easy

here’s the spy au stuff you guys really wanted to see so here you go pls don’t hate me for this

----

“You have eyes on the exit Kennedie?” 

“Yup. That hasn’t changed in the last two minutes since you asked me, Betty.” Daya rolled her eyes. Now she remembered why she liked solo missions so much. 

It was an easy mission. Go in, get whatever information they need, get out. Daya brushed back some of her platinum blonde hair away from her eyes, looking around the ornate room. The walls were dripping in luxury curtains, rich red velvet and large golden ropes. There were cabinets filled with art pieces and precious China that were well worth more than anything she’d ever seen before. 

“You don’t need to get short with me.”

“I’m not. Just telling you how I see it.” She could hear the blonde's smile in her earpiece.

“Well sorry for wanting this mission to go smoothly.” She said, walking over to a desk carefully and finding a locked drawer. “Do you have the code yet?”

“Try opening it again now.” She said and Daya tried opening the drawer again, this time hearing a click and met with the contents inside. 

“You know, as annoying as you are, you’re a great code breaker, Jas.” Daya said as she carefully carded through the files. There was a chuckle in her ear and she couldn’t help but smile. Maybe it wasn’t so bad to be partnered every once in a while.

“It wasn’t even that hard like there was barely any encryption on it. Wait...  is the infamous Daya Betty giving me a compliment?” She could see the grin Jasmine had plastered on her face 

“Don’t get used to it.” She smiled a little and found the document she needed. “Got it.” She quickly took a picture and sent it over to Jasmine.

“Sending it over now.” Jasmine said curtly. “You’re actually a great partner, Betty.” There was a certain level of honest in the younger woman's voice that took Daya by surprise but made her smile.

“Now I really must be dreaming.” Daya said with a little laugh, knowing that she eared an eyeroll for it. “Your sure you feeling alright?” 

“Forget I even said anything. You’re awful.” Jasmine groaned but Daya could tell she wasn’t upset. 

“Maybe a little bit and you can’t take it back.” She started looking around and heading towards the exit when she paused to for a moment. This mission was easy, too easy. She could’ve done it without a partner, hell even Jasmine could’ve done this on her own. She felt a twinge of unease in her stomach and tapped her earpiece. “Kennedie, you good to go?”

All she heard was static on the other end, not that obnoxious, overly excited and loud voice she needed to hear now. 

She tried again. “Jasmine, do you read me?” Static again. Her heart started to beat faster as she looked around the room, eyes locking on the entrance she came through. Their communication system was secured to all hell, no one could break it. Something must’ve happened. Daya felt more dread wash over her and something more but she didn’t have time to worry about that now. Suddenly, her earpiece started to clear up and she heard labored breathing on the other side. She strained her ears to pick up on something that sounded like Jasmine. 

“Kennedie? What happened? Are you alright?” Worry evident in her voice as her volume raised.

The static broke through and she could hear a struggle in her ears. If she wasn’t on high alert before, she certainly was now. “Jas, what’s going on?”

“Daya run!”

That was all she heard before a punch came to her face and the world went black.

———

Daya groaned and opened her eyes, the world fuzzy and unclear. She blinked a few times and went to rub them but something stopped her, her hands stuck behind her. She was sitting in a chair and there was one giant, bright light overhead. She tried to move but was stopped, feeling an itch over her exposed skin.

Pain bloomed in her jaw as she looked around the room. Bare and empty. Mother fucker. She tried to think back to the last thing that happened before she blacked out. 

Jasmine. She heard Jasmine’s voice and then she blacked out. She started thinking of every possible scenario and that bundle of worry in her stomach grew larger and larger. Had she gotten away before they’d been found? Did she get taken? Had she sent out the beacon 

How long before Daya asked her had they found her? Was she able to get a message out to headquarters?  She started to squirm and try to find the knot of her binds. This wasn’t good.

Before she could make an ounce of progress, the door opened. She stiffened immediately and watched the person who entered the room. They sat across from her and Daya glared at them hard.

“It’s an honor to meet the infamous Agent Betty. I’ve been a huge fan of yours.” They smiled at her. She grimaced and set her jaw.  

“I must say, I wasn’t expecting you to come to such a basic level mission. You’re much too skilled to be breaking and entering.” The compliment was there but Daya only glared harder, her hands continuing to try and find the knot.

“Especially with such a beginner as well. A code analyst? Now that’s just insulting.” They chuckled and it made Dayas skin crawl. 

“Shut your damn mouth. Where is she? The hell did you do to her?” She growled, tilting her head up so she was looking down at them. She could see a glint in their eyes. 

“Now what’s this? Did I strike a nerve? Is Miss “no partner, solo only, no help necessary” caring someone other than herself? I must be dreaming.” They taunted.

“Leave her out of this you sick bastard.” She grit her teeth and leaned backwards, looking away from them. She breathed long and deep, trying to reign in her rapid thoughts of escape and trying to keep her composure. “All she did was watch me. She didn’t do anything.”

“I’ll be the judge of that. Now, you have something I want.” They leaned forward, hands clasped onto the table. Their eyes shifted from a playful glow to a serious stare. 

“I’m not telling you shit.”

“You don’t need to tell us everything. Just what we haven’t gotten from your partner.”

She scoffed and looked over at him. “She wouldn’t say anything. She may not come off as the brightest but she’s not an idiot.” They chuckled darkly at Daya’s defense and her brow furrowed, feeling something twist in her stomach. “What’s so funny?”

“You give that girl too much credit.” Her hands stopped trying to undo the ties on her wrist. “Obviously she hasn’t been taking notes from you.”

Something shifted inside of her and she didn’t have time to make it but it made her blood boil to hear him say that. She breathed in deeply from her nose and dug her nails into her palm as best she could. Now wasn’t the time to get angry, she had to get out of here and find Jasmine and get the hell out before shit hits the fan. 

“What do you mean?”

“She cares about you.” They said while playing with a pen in one hand, the plastic twirling in between their fingertips. 

“What the hell does that have to do with anything?” She hissed, her hair falling over her eyes. They smiled and gripped the pen in their hand, Daya watching carefully and her eyes darting to where it was pointing and around the room. 

A scream echoed through the room from the speakers around the room. It sounded painful and tortured and they had a sick smile across from her as they listened to it.  

Daya stopped moving in that instant, her blood running cold. No. 

“What the hell are you doing to her?!” She shouted, fighting harder against her restraints. “She didn’t do anything. Leave her alone!”

They laughed across from her and that only spurred her further, wrists burning as she pulled as hard as she could. The scream was cut off abruptly and Daya didn’t know what was worse to hear: the silence or the screaming. Her mind was racing, flashing images of what they were doing to Jasmine and her stomach dropped.

“I suggest you start talking. Unless you want to see how much more she can take.”

[zenithshiddenden]

Hihi! Can I pretty please get Orias Oswell x Shy Reader pls? Can be about anything, preferably something fluffy ^^ 💞

YOU ASK AND I DELIVER <3

𝐁𝐘 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐒 𝐀𝐋𝐈𝐆𝐍𝐄𝐃—

0.9k words

Orias was busy on his video game console when he arrived at the front of the counter. He wore a hood, but you could still see his blond hair poking out from the fronts and sides. 

You stared at him, nervously standing behind the counter, waiting for him to acknowledge your existence. You shifted from foot to foot, glancing down at the small floating screen in front of you. You couldn't help yourself, taking a small peek back up at the stranger. 

He had alluring yellow eyes that matched the golden of his hair perfectly. His pupils were purple, and they were focused on his small device. Oh how you wished those pupils would focus on you–

Then they were. He felt your staring, and looked up at you in confusion. You felt your face heat up, the blood all directed to your face. You instantly looked down at your screen, missing his knowing grin.

You took his order, cheeks a light pink as you tapped your screen with shaky hands. You were so embarrassed, you can't believe that a complete stranger– a pretty one at that, had caught you staring at him. He probably wasn't going to come back anymore, you probably wouldn't see him ever again-

You caught yourself mid thought as you prepared his drink. A special tea blend with a few extra things added to it. It looked very pretty, almost like the stars in the sky. 

You capped the drink, and placed it on the counter, hoping to be able to skitter away and wait for him to get his drink. But to your surprise, he was already there, and he took the drink from you as you held it out. 

Your fingers grazed, and you instantly pulled your hand away, almost dropping the drink in the process. Lucky for you, he caught it in time, not even a drop was spilt.

"My, my, darling. You can't just go around dropping people's drinks, you know. Not everyone would like that."

You nodded frantically, mumbling an apology, and then you realized–

Darling. He had called you Darling.

You looked up, only to be met with empty space. Yup, he had called you an endearing pet name and vanished. How typical of men.

You sighed, before jumping as the next customer cleared their throat, waiting for a cashier- you, you reminded yourself- to take their order. You rushed back to your job, thinking about that pretty stranger all that while.

A few days passed, and god, you hated yourself because all you could think about was him, him, him. It was almost sad, daydreaming about someone you’ll never see again. You didn’t want to try and find him, that would be embarrassing. Way too embarrassing.

Another day, another shift almost finished. You looked at the clock. Just a few more seconds..

ding

Someone walked into the store. You screamed in the back of your mind, you knew you had to serve this guy, even if your shift literally just finished. You looked down at your monitor as the patron arrived. You waited for them to recite their order.

“Hey darling.”

You recognise that voice. You looked up, your eyes met gold. If you thought he was pretty before, by the devil, he looked stunning now. Jaw droppingly so. You felt his hand under your chin, pushing your now hanging jaw back into its place.

Your cheeks turned a dark red, and you nervously looked back at the screen presented before you. He laughed softly at your reaction, and you wanted to engrave that sound in your mind.

He ordered the same thing as last time. All while thinking about what he was wearing, well, he certainly cleaned up well, that crisp purple suit.. the material looked so smooth, like you could run your hand down it..

You need to snap out of it.

You handed him his tea, making sure to not drop it this time. He handed you a slip of paper, causing you to flush once more as he winked at you, leaving the store. Well, you could forgive extending your shift this time, because now you have the number of the man who had been haunting your thoughts.

That night, you ran home, hurriedly throwing your shoes on the floor, and tossing your back to the side, flopping on your bed. You fumbled with your phone, and eventually managed to key in his number. You saved it, and the stared at the empty chat.

You, sending the first message? That sounded way too embarrassing. No way you could. What if you sent something weird? What if he didn’t like what you sent as a first message and ghosted you? What if you were too dry? You faceplanted into the bed.

Little did you know, your phone got tossed around a bit, and you ended up sending a photo. Of yourself. To him. You sat up when you heard a ding from his response. You froze when you realised what had happened, and his response didn’t make anything better. He sent a photo of him faceplanted into the bed as well, imitating you.

You screamed into your pillow. You couldn’t have been more embarrassed than you were. 

However the next message surprised you.

‘Tomorrow at 8pm, Darling? I’ll fetch you from work ;)’

With shaky fingers, you picked your phone up, quickly texting a yes, before throwing your phone across the room. Embarrassing. Way too embarrassing. But you couldn’t help but blush at the idea of going on a date with this guy..

[blueberrypancakesworld]

Your sweet taste

warning : blood, lots of blood, implied relationship between the two, tiny tiny angst if you look closely, humiliation

Info : So this One-Shot is based of another another sweet sketch (This to be more clear) from @pocketwei go check out her blog. And as always have fun reading :)

masterlist

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Light streamed through the large, well-built room of the King of Dressrosa. The sun shone through the large windows set into the stone. Filling everything with its light and shining on the pink feather coat.

But it did not hang over the shoulders of the tall blonde. No, the feather cloak lay over a chair, carefully placed so as not to get dirty. The light of the ceiling lamp was switched off and the sun continued to illuminate the room.

It passed over the wooden table where someone else had been sitting a few minutes ago. A small scrape was visible as the man with the golden hoe rose from the table. When the tip of the hoe scraped the wood.

The black-haired man detached himself from him and declared the meeting over. When they could not agree on what to do in the new world. One continued alone the other wanted him for his crew. Even as another prince of Dressrosa.

But once again they could not agree, as usual. Which is why he was against them, but had left a gift for his flamingo. A gift against the heat on Dressrosa. Even if the heat was more pleasant for the crocodile than for the blond.

As he leaned against the table, shirtless, he tried to get a kiss and was left on the left. The sun shone on his upper body and accentuated his muscles. He saw that the crocodile was looking at his body.

Even if they hated each other somehow, there was something between them that no one could deny. Not even the two of them. He wanted the other in the meeting but the crocodile seemed to see it differently.

Not that it was any different in the other meetings, once Crocodile had tried to stab him with a rusty kitchen knife after he had given him an unsolicited kiss. From then on the flamingo knew that the older one didn't like surprises.

But the phone call was no fun and certainly not for Doflamingo. It was no fun for the blond like a child who didn't get his way. ,,I guess I still am for you my dear" he said into the phone as he found himself on the floor of his room.

His back resting against the end of his bed as he continued to give the black haired man his opinion. Continuing to give him what made him boil over with rage.

The blond's already split body seemed to be further destroyed by this. ,,A stupid little kid!" he hissed into the earpiece, cutting the gift with his strings as he saw the pink ice cream in a glass bowl. ,,A child who doesn't mind ice cream," he added hastily, and with his thread took a spoon that was in a drawer at the other end of the room. Sometimes his strength was just practical.

Before he pushed the first spoonful of ice cream into his mouth, a satisfied moan escaped his lips. He would have given anything to see the expression on the crocodile's face. Knowing what, the ringed hand closed around the wineglass.

Knew that the older one's cheeks must have turned pink. ,,You wouldn't believe how much I'd like to see you now," he chuckled and took another spoonful of the ice cream.

He thought he heard a suppressed sigh at the other end of the ear. But whether it was just an excited sound or an annoyed one didn't matter to him either.

It didn't matter because just as he was shoving another spoonful into his mouth, he suddenly felt several stabs from his stomach and neck area. He coughed up and thought nothing of it at first, but not seconds later he felt the metallic taste.

Collecting the taste in his mouth, he spat the blood spitting mixture to the floor seconds later. Astonishment crossed his face and he felt his vein of rage slowly begin to throb.

Wanting to rise, however, he immediately fell to his knees. The sundae fell to the ground with a crash and broke into a thousand small pieces.

The blond winced when he heard the satisfied laughter from above. ,,Smart Croco-" but the blond could not finish his sentence as he doubled over and vomited a gush of blood. What had previously arrived on his stony floor gathered slightly to his disbelief and pain on his right palm.

Held his throbbing, aching sleep with his left hand. Felt his head about to burst and he choked more and more blood and vomited to the floor.

Desperately trying to get up, he collapsed to his knees again. ,,A stupid naive boy...and yet someone had to play a trick on the clown" he heard the voice of the black haired man who suddenly came in through the door.

Manifesting himself from sand, he looked up at the black-haired man. The long black coat, the golden heel Doflamingo knew who was in front of him.

He reached out his bloody hand but vomited blood again and only caught himself at the last moment to avoid lying in a pool of blood. He heard the deprecating click of his tongue as the older one looked down at him.

The younger one had dared to get blood on his expensive black leather boots. ,,Now look at that, sweet and yet so bloomy...shame on you" the black-haired one reprimanded and kicked Doflamingo's hand away so that the blond fell into the blood. The blonde's face, upper body, hands and hair were covered in crimson blood.

But the Joker laughed and spat more blood on the floor before he said amusedly, ,,Shall I lick your shoes clean?" before he held his neck as another pain went through his body. Coughing and regurgitating blood which only made him look more beautiful.

At least in the eyes of the crocodile, it was only fair that the blond lied. He had deserved it, too often he had let the blond get away with everything. Instead, the older man ran his hand through the blond's hair.

Like a pet. Watched with a satisfied look as the blond closed his eyes behind his sunglasses. The older man's fingers humiliatingly smeared the blood on the younger man's face.

Grabbing him by the hair, pushing him back into the blood only to push him away as the blond maniac actually tried to lick the blood from his boots.

He enjoyed the touch before the older man pulled back and gave him one last look. ,,My stupid naive hound...next time I'll watch from the beginning" the older man said goodbye and disappeared into the sand before the blond reached into the void.

But the rapid beating of his heart at the words of the next meeting, he felt a sense of anticipation.

With a dull light sound of the wood of the bed, the blond leaned against it. Coughed and regurgitated the blood further.

Watching it run through his fingers and drip to the floor. Your sweet taste just like me sweet and deadly the blond thought and couldn't help but laugh. It all seemed like a sick bloody joke. But above all, he was damn cute.

~~~~~~~~~~~

[anisethefiaadmin]

Chapter 8 of Mistress Masham's Repose is UP!

The Crystal Palace was as elegant as always, an airy French Renaissance building with baroque and rococo touches on its white exterior. Women in low-cut dresses met Draco and Blaise in the entrance foyer and led them up the winding marble staircase. They were seated in the room of selection, an elegant space with dark wallpaper and red Persian carpets. Women and girls strolled about. Low lighting spilled across the well-polished walnut tables and caught the gleam of flirtatious eyes, the glisten of smooth hair and bouncing curls, the glitter of golden necklaces round smooth necks and jeweled earrings winking against pretty faces. 

Draco saw it all only at the edge of his vision. He sat in a dark nook against one wall, nursing a brandy and soda and staring into space. The girls were certainly pretty, and the more mature women lovely. They were all splendidly dressed and coiffed, with heads of blonde or red or dark ringlets, attractive faces and forms, their manners ranging from shy to outgoing to positively brazen. If he had felt differently about things that night, if he had not been brooding about what had happened in that storage closet with Ginny Weasley, he would have been more than happy to take one of these beauties to a bedroom and make sure that they both enjoyed themselves. But it was as if a pane of glass stood between him and them. He felt the attractions of these women, but his body seemed to belong to someone else. His mind was separate. 

“Are you all right?” Blaise asked softly at his side. 

Draco nodded wordlessly. 

Blaise sighed. “See anything you like?”

Draco shrugged. “Not yet. I’ll stay a bit longer. You go on, Blaise.” 

“Are you sure?”

“I’m sure.” 

Blaise examined his face. Draco rather thought he could tell that he himself wanted to be alone. 

“Well, then… I hope you find what you’re looking for. There’s the one for me, old chap,” said Blaise, rising to his feet. He left the room with a sultry, dark-haired woman whose ruby lips had a teasing smile. 

[guildtree]

merkasjory? 👀👀👀👀👀

So last May I made this piece of art for Mermay: https://www.tumblr.com/guildtree/718019938315599873/huh-oh-hello-i-always-wondered-if-there-was

And then I gave myself brainrot so I wrote a story around it lol. Pretty classic early Kasjory with an underwater twist.

There’s a scratching of rocks from above, and a few pebbles drift past her cave entrance. Marjory pops her head out and finds herself nearly face-to-face with another mer, who seems to be halfway through clambering down the rocks. Her hands grasp the rock tightly while her tail flows up and over the clifftop. And what a tail it is; pink scales fading to cream like the inside of a shell, with long, fanned fins that sparkle even in the dim light. The scales fade into tan skin and pale blonde hair, kept free to flow with the currents. She’s a beautiful swirl of pink and cream and white, so flowy and sparkly it’s almost hard to focus on. Her blue eyes widen when she spots Marjory. “Huh? Oh, hello! I always wondered if there was somebody living down here. I’m not bothering you, am I?” “Nah.” Marjory shakes herself out of her glitter-induced daze and gives her most charming smile. She might not be able to ID exactly what fish this mermaid is, but she knows drop-dead gorgeous when she sees it. “Serves me right for venturing up this high during the day. What’s your name, angelfish?” “You can call me Kasmeer.” The strange mermaid flips herself over to drift in front of Marjory’s cave, hands on the lip Marjory leans on. Nope, definitely not any ordinary mer. She has fins on her arms, ink makeup coats her face, and she’s wearing basically nothing. Ropes of golden beads and pearls highlight her features rather than conceal them. “That’d be Lady Kasmeer, I take it?” The strange mermaid leans back slightly. “Is it that obvious?” “Most people don’t wear diamonds on their day trips out.” Without even thinking, she flicks the gemstone resting right over Lady Kasmeer’s sternum. It’s probably a faux pas, but the noble doesn’t seem bothered. “Oh, but shark teeth are?” She gestures to the handmade assemblage of fishing net across Marjory’s chest, held up by a necklace of teeth she’d scavenged from the sea floor. “It’s all the rage right now. You really are new here, aren’t you?” Lady Kasmeer just shrugs. “I like exploring. And occasionally meeting new people…” Marjory takes the hint and holds out one hand for a shake. “Marjory Delaqua.” Lady Kasmeer hesitates for a moment, before timidly taking Marjory’s hand and laying a quick kiss on the knuckles. It looks like an unpracticed motion, something she’s had done to her plenty of times but hasn’t had much cause to do to others. For a second they both blink at each other in confusion. Finally Marjory chuckles, and Lady Kasmeer frowns. “What’s so funny?” “Nothing. You’re adorable.” She’s heard nobles are terrible flirts, and it seems to be true, as Lady Kasmeer just tosses her hair back. “What brings you all the way down here, cutie?” “Nothing but my own curiosity. I’ve been down here a few times, but I’ve never seen you before.” Lady Kasmeer glances down at the blue abyss below them. “Do you live down in the Twilight Zone? Or the Depths?” “Mmm. I migrate a lot for work.” It’s a non-answer, but it actually seems to make Lady Kasmeer more curious; she leans forward slightly, eyes sparkling. “But yes, I’ve seen plenty of both.” “Really? What’s it like?” Ah. Okay. Marjory has her pegged now: a wealthy noble who’s barely left her own palace, without the ability or perhaps the courage to see what the rest of the world looks like. Maybe her parents keep her cooped up, maybe it’s her own fear, but now she’s “rebelling” by sneaking out when they aren’t looking. Marjory hears stories of one or two like that every year. Still, it can’t hurt to answer a few questions. She did come all this way, and it’s not like Marjory has anything else to do. And she’s certainly easy on the eyes…

[therealityhelix]

Shards of the Nexus: Tangled Pinstripes

Things were very tenuous for him, in the beginning.

Song: Building a Mystery- Sarah McLachlan

@cardwrecks @captainbaddecisions

Detective watched as his blonde counterpart took a slow pull from his glittery green vape, and breathed out a long stream of apple scented steam.

“Well,” he said. “At least my other me's are hot.”

Detective and YJ shared a glance.

“It's good you're taking this so well.” YJ said, soft lisp sliding along his tongue. “Because we know there is another, and we think there may be more. Are you interested?”

“In what?” the blonde asked, splaying himself indolently across his couch. “I'mma be real wit'chu fellas. I ain't really interested in some riddle man fan club. Tryin' to leave all that behind.”

“As did I.” Detective said. “Of course, you would not be forced to participate in anything you didn't want to. This is not some kind of secret society. But...it is fascinating, is it not? Other worlds, multiversal theory. That you can reach into another reality and find yourself.”

“I dunno. Sounds like a whole bunch of not my business.”

“You aren't even interested in other worlds?” YJ asked, incredulous.

“Look, gentlefriends, I got a good thing goin' here.” He pulled himself off the couch and stretched. “And I ain't inclined to fuck around with it, especially not for the sake of the Riddler. Hate that guy. Now, if you'll excuse me...Feel free to buy a drink, watch the night life, whatever, but don't you cause no problems in my club.”

He walked right past them, out into the undulating chaos of the dance floor, where several people immediately draped themselves all over him.

Arkham chuckled.

“Ooh, he's got a bit of swagger, hasn't he? Ha. I kind of want to break his legs.”

“We cannot force anyone.” Detective said. “That isn't the point of this.”

“I can't imagine anyone with a mind like ours having no interest in the multiverse.” YJ muttered.

“Just give it a bit of time.” Arkham said. “The seed's planted now. If he's worthy of the name, he won't be able to resist learning more. And if he's not...no need to waste our time.”

There was no threat contained within the words, but the way Arkham said it sparked worry in YJ's mind. When Detective described finding their counterparts in other worlds, there was a definite edge of urgency involved. If Arkham fully agreed with Detective's quest, YJ couldn't help but wonder how far he might go to make sure that quest wasn't endangered.

Loyalty wasn't a word YJ would ascribe to Arkham, but decisiveness certainly was.

“I think I actually would like a drink, honestly.” Detective said. “Why waste what might be our only opportunity to see what kind of concoctions a Riddler might come up with?”

YJ joined them at the question mark shaped bar. People made room for them, giving both he and Detective appreciative looks. Bashfulness warmed his fuzzy cheeks. Detective, of course, was incredibly beautiful, like the angels of myth. Himself, however...Well, he didn't think he was ugly! Far from it! It was just that, on his world, in his line of work, people like him were not very favored. He was aware of the traits he had that others would consider 'flaws'. The gap in his teeth, the lisp in his voice, the color blindness, the neurodivergence, all the crime. But the people here had imperfect faces, wild make up, raccoon tail stripes in their hair. They wore platform boots, and neon fishnets, and they smiled at him and winked.

The dancers didn't all dance well, but they danced freely, and everyone sparkled in the lights from the floor and ceiling, spangled in the reflected magic of the spinning disco ball.

This place was hypnotic, and the Mesmer in the center was the Riddler who wasn't, the Riddler who didn't claim it, but displayed it everywhere nonetheless. Question mark iconography peppered the entire place, named it, shaped it, hung from the non-Riddler's neck like a golden noose. The drinks menu was full of villain-themed cocktails, of green and gold and violet.

Trying to leave that all behind, he had said, and yet, to YJ it seemed he had simply dragged it all into a different venue, turned a spotlight on it, and commanded it to dance.

Perhaps that was how he gained control. They all had their ways.

He ordered the least alcoholic thing on the menu and smiled back at the girl next to him. Detective chatted up a young man who looked both confused and thrilled. And Arkham-

He had lost track of Arkham.

?~?~?~?~?

Edward slipped out of the crowd and into the kitchen, unnoticed by anyone save the cooks.

“Yeah, three of them!” he exclaimed into his phone. “This is getting outta hand. I know we thought somethin' like this might happen since that other Harley came through, but...any other 'you's' show up?”

The gravelly voice on the other end answered in the negative.

“Damn. I'm still not sure they're legit, or some mindfuck Sionis whipped up to run me off since he wants to claim this as his turf, even though it's obviously mine. Yeah I know he doesn't think it counts cause I stopped doin' the riddly thing, but that doesn't mean I gotta give up to some other asshole. Speaking of-!”

He spun to the side, deftly dodging the hand reaching out from behind him.

It was the big one, the one that had stayed quiet almost the whole time the pretty one was talking, just staring intensely. He was still staring, his chapped lips stretched into a thin smile.

“Hey! Employees only, dickfuck!” Edward snapped. “Get outta here!”

The smile widened, though it didn't seem to reach his icy eyes. Edward slipped his hand into his pocket in deceptive nonchalance. There was more in there than just his glittery vape.

“Shelby. Andrew. Scram.” he said, and the two cooks fled through the employee exit.

“Toldja I didn't want none of this.” he continued, his fingers threading through the fused rings of a set of knuckledusters. “So if Miss Marple out there sent you in to be the bulldog, they got another thing comin'.”

“Do you think they command me?” the other him asked, rough and sneering. “Have you chosen a leader already?”

“I didn't choose nothin'!”

“Really? Then why are you here, running a speakeasy? I'd call that a choice.”

Too close too close too close! The menacing Riddler slithered up on him like some grinning eel, right up in his face in open challenge.

“Back the fuck off, bruh.”

“Or what?” The larger Riddler reached for his face. He whipped his hand out of his pocket and smashed a fistful of brass across the other man's jaw. The man staggered, but drove his own fist into Edward's stomach. He was a lot stronger than Edward expected, and he doubled over, both men simultaneously struggling with and supporting each other. The other Riddler reached into his jacket in search of something Edward didn't give him the chance to find. He stomped down hard on he other mans foot, snatching a knife off the countertop as the larger man's greater weight dragged him down. Crouching over him like a wasp over a tarantula, Edward held the knife to his neck.

“Fuckin' warned you!” he snarled through teeth gritted so hard it hurt his jaw. “Could'a just fuckin' left me alone, I wanted to be left alone, could'a just bounced, but no! You had to fuck around, and now I gotta...I...”

A thin line of red at the edge of the blade, a string of scarlet seed beads on his stubbled throat. Edward flung the knife away.

“Still got it.” the older man mocked.

“Fuck you!” he hissed. “I was doing fine before you showed up! I was fine!”

“Were you really?” he backed away, and the older Riddler sat up. “Seems to me you're holding on by a thread. If the tiniest little push can break you down like that.”

“Shut the fuck up. What do you even want from me?”

“Do you have what it takes?”

“I told you, I'm leaving that behind!”

“That's not what I meant.”

“Then what the fuck did you mean?”

“Do you have. What it takes.”

“You know what, I don't fuckin' care. You can go be a creepy bitch out on the street. I'm officially kicking you out.”

The one with the mullet shoved his way into the kitchen.

“Hey, have you seen...Oh no.”

“Hey, good timing.” Edward said. “Collect your friend and get the fuck out, before I wreck his ass for real.”

“How will you do that?” the older Riddler challenged, inclining his head toward the knife under the table. “You've thrown away your advantage.”

“I can get another.” Edward threatened.

“Arkham, we said not to antagonize him!” the third Riddler groaned, exasperated. The older Riddler shrugged.

“Instructions unclear.” he said dismissively. “Besides, we can't leave now. He needs our help.”

“Like fuck I do.”

“I hear you've got a problem with the Roman.”

Edward sneered.

“Roman Sionis is a punk ass bitch who's just mad he got to the party late. Wants to prove he can be a big man in the masked crowd, but that ship has mostly sailed. So now he thinks he can be the only one in town, and tries to bully the rest of us. Just some upstart who doesn't know the rules.”

“You have rules?”

“You don't? Psh, doesn't surprise me.”

The older Riddler smiled that cold half-smile.

“I've got rules.”

The third Riddler helped the older fellow up.

“I'm sorry about him...”

“Don't you dare ever apologize for me, boy. You aren't that weak.” the older Riddler-Arkham-growled.

“Stop compromising my manners then.” the younger Riddler shot back. “We already said we weren't going to force him. I don't want you making liars of us.”

“Why, I did no such thing. I didn't even touch him until he attacked me.” Arkham said. The third Riddler flicked his umber gaze in Edward's direction.

Edward seethed. Goddamnit, it was true. The fucker had baited him, and he'd fallen for it. Practically jumped at it. He wanted to leave it all behind, but damn if he hadn't been ready to kill.

Damnit, did he have what it took?

“Hey, hold on.” he said. “Hypothetically speaking, if some wannabe crime boss with a black, skull shaped edgelord mask, like, say, Roman Sionis was breathing his gross breath down your neck, but you was trying real hard not to be a little murder gremlin, what would you do?”

Arkham grinned, and this time it reached his eyes.

“Well, that depends. Do I happen to have any friends who still embrace the 'murder gremlin' lifestyle? Am I willing to look the other way? All important questions.”

“Yeah. And what would that cost me?”

He continued smiling. Edward sighed.

“Tell Nancy Drew I'll have a sit down talk with them.”

The younger Riddler ushered Arkham out of the kitchen. Edward retrieved his phone.

“Harvey? Yeah, I'm fine. Hey listen, I'm gonna have to call you back, okay?”

[maximuslush]

NICHOLAS GALITZINE, CISMALE, HE/HIM/HIS The 74th Annual Hunger Games are upon us and here comes MAXIMUS LUSH, a  DISTRICT 4 ESCORT. Word around The Capitol is that they’re CHARISTMATIC & A PERFECTIONIST but can also be ALOOF & SUPERFICIAL. According to sources, they’re 29 and were once described as a golden signet ring resting on the pinky, dark brown hair in the winter, and golden blonde in the summer, a crisp suit walking down the croso, & a glinting smile in the district 4 sun on reaping day. What a character! As we always say, may the odds be ever in their favor!

BASICS.

name — Maimus Lush

nick names — Max, Maxy

titles & alias’ — District Four Escort 

gender — Cis-Male

pronouns — He/Him/His

romantic & sexual orientation — Homosexual, Homoromantic

age — 29

place of birth — The Capitol

current residence — The Capitol

PERSONALITY.

positive traits — Charismatic, Perfectionist 

negative traits —  Aloof, Superficial 

likes  —  reflective surfaces, parties, attention, shiny things, receiving gifts, & people recognizing him 

dislikes  — being ignored, not getting his way, people looking down on him, knowing people don’t like him, & cheap clothing

PHYSICAL APPEARANCE.

eye color — Hazel 

hair color — Naturally; Brunette. Usually Dyed Blonde

hair style — Worn short and neat

complexion — Pale

build — Athletic

height — 6’0

clothing — Finely tailored suits in various colors, always very well fitting and very stylish, maximus is obsessed with his looks and will go to great lengths to always look his best. 

accessories & jewelry — Maximus has one of his ears pierced and usually always has something in it, he also wears a wide range of rings across various fingers, the one constant is the Lush Family signet ring he wears on his pinky. Also never far from him or his person is a pair of sunglasses. 

faceclaim — Nicholas Galitzine 

RELATIONSHIPS.

grandparents — Hadrian Lush (Paternal) 

parents —   Invictus & Vera Lush

siblings — 2 Older Sisters; Mellona & Menodora Lush

romantic interest —  tbd

children — none

pets — a Cavalier King Charles, named; Zelena

Bio:

Maximus Lush comes from an old money family in the Capitol, his grandfather was a high-ranking member of the War Department, his Father a Gamemaker, and his mother a Capitol Socialite. Maximus could have done anything he wanted with his career, and he wanted to work in the games, but not like his father, he wanted to be on television, and so his family using their connections secured him a position as an Escort for District 4, something he’s been doing for 5 years now.

As an Escort, Maximus is very self-forward seeing the games as a way for himself to get more publicity always having loved the spotlight. That’s why he was happy to be partnered with a District that was known to produce tributes who were popular, and had a real shot at winning. He was also happy that when it was time to go out to the Districts he was going to one of the wealthier Capitol-friendly districts, and the weather certainly did help. Maximus cares about his tributes as an extension of himself, he wants them to do good so that he can look good. Victors after all means more time on camera and more attention on him.

Maximus and the Lush family as a whole are very obsessed with image both their personal images and the family image. They put a lot of weight on status and wealth, and because of that Maximus always strives to look his absolute best. His suits are always finely tailored and in colors that compliment him. Depending on the time of year, he changes his hair color, liking to wear it dark in the winter, and light in the summer. He also usually wears several rings on his hands and has one of his ears pierced. Knowing just exactly is enough accessorization and when it becomes too much. Beyond his good looks, and charming personality Maximus can be incredibly vapid, and not very bright. Something he desperately tries to hide behind a pretty smile and silver tongue.