#even less made it past the editing cut

[theconfusedartist]

@zero-saito OK, So I think I answered all the questions but I'm not sure. You're response made me wanna talk a hell of a lot and I had to trim down a lot of this in editing bc it was absolutely incomprehensible when I first made it in the throes of excitement.

Apologies if this doesn't get to everything mentioned, I was just excited and kinda went on tangents about Bill and the story writing itself as well as the quality of it.

I also marked it in sections so that way it would be easier to see each part.

[Bill and Haytham are super similar]

I'm so glad you brought the fact that Haytham and Bill are incredibly similar bc they are! And (I say this as someone who cheered when Haytham died and literally is having the hardest time replaying AC3 bc I have to play as Haytham for so long) Haytham is somehow a better leader than Bill is, was more transparent with Connor (meaning he didn't try to emotionally manipulate him, at least), and had the decency to die on the way out. Connor and Desmond, at the point of AC3, are paralleling each others parental relationship. The mother is dead/out of the picture. They have an estranged biological father who is willing to verbally and physically assault them, and even so, they're (Desmond and Connor) still trying to mend their relationship with their fathers. We know that Connor regretted how things turned out with Haytham, as he believed that it didn't have to happen like that due to Haytham's beliefs and pride, but Desmond regrets how things turned out after seeing how Ezio lost his family, how Altaïr lost his father, (I know that Ubisoft claims that Aveline isn't related to Desmond but that's a fucking lie, I refuse to believe that) how Connor had to kill his father, and Aveline had to kill her stepmother and her mentor after losing her father as well! The Altaïr storyline and Ezio storyline is all about losing loved ones and never being able to get them back, only learning how to be better and to weather the loss. In the AC3 timeline (because Aveline and Connor were in each other's stories and are going through a very similar arc along with Desmond), it is about the grief of having to bury a parental figure thats doing harm to them, with both Aveline and Connor choosing to kill the parental figures that would either control or do harm. In Desmond's case...?????

[The AC3/ACLiberation Story Arc and Narrative]

Like, maybe I'm just reading too much into this, maybe I'm looking too deep, but it feels...really weird to have a second set of ancestors teaching the same lesson and Desmond's story wraps up with him "reconciling" with a man that shows no real remorse or regret for his actions (because getting upset that your son is going to die but also never looking for a way to look for another solution, not with the animus or basic respect), that doesn't change his ways towards the other people in his organization, that doesn't change at all....it's really weird Desmond never has a moment where he says: "I'm done. Stop treating me like this, or there will be consequences, and you might get hurt!" Like, there's a conversation in game where Desmond tells Bill if he hits him, he'll swing back this time, but the story doesn't change. It can be missed. There is no narrative importance given to it and???? I know I'm talking a lot about the AC3 and AC:Liberation, but it feels like there was a story here, a lesson that Desmond was supposed to take away from what they went through and rather than learning it (for narrative reasons and because the writers wanted to get rid of Desmond), he isn't given weight or importance nor is what he was supposed to learn here. Instead, he dies, and Bill (and narrative) that had been disrespecting him continues on, as the ones telling the story. Desmond should've killed Bill (the narrative) that never respected him in the first place if he ever wanted to escape his inevitable death.

[AC3 and ACL were chopped to pieces and left on the writing board floor]

Also, I know that Ubisoft said that Connor and Aveline didn't get together, and that Aveline isn't related to Desmond buuuuut...it just feels really weird for them to say that when they are going through similar story arcs, work together in each other's stories (for Connor, meeting Aveline is DLC whereas he is already involved in Aveline's story for her hunt of the Company Man), fighting for the same thing, and are still released as a set (ACL came out the same day as AC3, they were put together as a set in the AC3 remaster, and when you buy the AC Odyssey season pass they come together as well) even in the current releases of them. I know this probably off topic, but...ACL came out the same day as AC3 and later when ACIV was released it was confirmed that Edward was Desmond's descendent. Up to this point, all the games were about Desmond's story, even the spin offs, and some people call ACL a spinoff too. It just...I dunno! It's weird af! This really is a tangent about how the AC3 and ACL games got treated story wise and also how their characters had more going than was ever released and how the stuff that got axed must've been part of something larger, because the stories are so....choppy and hard to follow. With weird time skips in each. I know canonically that Aveline's is being broken up bc Abstergo, but Connor's has that same issue. Anyways, that was my short rant, I'll get back on topic. It just throws me for a loop.

[Lucy and Clay had they been supported]

Ngl, had they been supported, they would've been fucking amazing. Not saying that they already aren't but like--they were working on either little or no resources and given incredibly difficult tasks. Lucy managed to survive, by herself, with very little assistance in enemy territory for 7 years and despite the fact that they were initially going to kill her, she eventually managed to be inducted as a Templar. Mind you, I'm trying to stick to canon as much as possible (bc the lore makes a lot of...nonsense when you look at it as a whole) but if Lucy is actually a templar convert, it's really amazing that she was able to not only stay under the radar of the assassins and play the templars. That's actually impressive, considering the surveillance that the templars are capable of, all the while still staying on the good side of the assassins without ANYONE knowing that she had gone rogue. Like, that's impressive as hell. As for Clay, like, what a legend. Managed to actually create an entire AI into the animus, which at the time was still very new tech, leave behind messages and was able to manipulate the core programming of the animus to his bidding. And this was also while losing his sanity and hope that he was ever getting out!! Like, holy shit Clay! Dude actually managed to find a way to stay alive even after dying by uploading his conciousness into the animus and that was something that even the Isu didn't consistently manage to do (ex: Juno and Aita). The narrative (Bill) just never saw how great they were.

[The Narrative-Bill]

Also, this was something I kinda wanted to talk about but, y'know how AC2-Revelations its Desmond telling his story (with AC1 the story is being told through the lense of a camera watching Desmond) but AC3's opening has Bill talking over it and telling the story. It's something that I noticed with the first game, Ezio trilogy, and AC3 is that the person who is telling the story is different in each part. I like to interpret that as the game mechanics too. In the first game, Desmond isn't seen as a person but as a subject, so his (and Altair's) sections are truncated to show only the 'major' parts.

y'know something that annoys me about assassins creed?

they always make it seem like desmond wasted his life away after he left the farm to become a bartender, that he wasn't fit to be an assassin until he was training in the animus, and that he didn't have any ambition (as said by William in the AC3 remastered opening)

but like. none of that is true. at all

I mean I was just looking at the wiki to see Desmonds accomplishments and bio and apparently it was Daniel Cross that brought him into Abstergo. which. kinda puts Desmond skills in perspective

Daniel Cross was considered the most successful Templar member and, before Desmond, had a really great track record with his missions. Save for the ones that involved PoEs

they had to send him in to get Desmond

also Desmond managed to stay hidden from the assassins AND templars for 9 going on 10 years, since he was kidnapped on like August 30 brought in for the animus September 1, and the only reason he got taken in was due to them getting his fingerprints from the DMV

like. That sounds stupid but think about it. If he was going to the DMV he had to have an entire false identity in order to use a license, bc you need proof of birth, SSN, and multiple legal documents

he just. had that made on the run. Like that actually takes skill or connections or both to be able to effectively be in the system without being found with fake legal papers

And he DID have ambition: he wanted to live normally. Yeah its not some big dream or anything but he managed to stay hidden from two secret shadowy organizations that is all over the world in order to make it happen. that's determination and he only got caught due to his fingerprints being matched

and he easily fights off the abstergo agents in the opening of the first game. I'm not saying that Desmond was near as good as Ezio or Altaïr or Connor at this point, but he can clearly defend himself very well. at the end of AC2 he has no qualms with killing, he just does so with the hidden blade.

look, all I'm saying is, at the very least Desmond had to he quite skilled even before he started using the animus

[gghostwriter]

Have Your Cake

Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Summary: Spencer notices a change in you that he tries to address Trope: Comfort; Established relationship w.c: 1.8k Trigger warnings: tackles eating disorder and body dysmorphia a/n: this is a really hard topic I personally felt the need to write about (in a way to comfort myself.) Its very personal as I used my past eating disorder here so if its something you’re not comfortable with, please go skip ahead to another fic. Comments and reblogs are highly appreciated! 💗 masterlist

Spencer wrapped the front ends of his coat tighter on his slender body. It did little to no good fending off the cool seasonal air of an October night. His scuffled loafers squeaking from his shuffling feet. 

The line at your favorite bakery was unsurprisingly long on a Tuesday evening. Every night, the shop sells their remaining pastries at a discount To lure innocent commuters, tired from a long day of pushing papers. He usually wasn’t one to give in to the notion of ‘treating yourself’—unless counting out his big spendings on first editions written in its original language.

He gave the cashier a slight smile before listing off his purchase, one slice of their decadent strawberry shortcake and another of their vanilla bean sponge cake—both your favorites. And both an integral part of his perfectly thought of scheme to solve a riddle.

Your mystery.

In simple layman’s terms, they were bribery of some sort.

“Thank you,” he muttered under his breath, side stepping his way out from the throng of customers holding their own trays of pastries and back into the cold October air.

He blamed himself for not noticing the change in patterns early on. His attention otherwise preoccupied by the trauma from his time in prison and the stares that vary from judgement to pity that come from officers outside of the BAU.

No longer was he the shining, new prodigy once hailed to be, now he was just damaged goods. His downfall from grace was an adjustment.

His mind was another matter, all together—could no longer detect subtle shifts in behavior as fast as he used to.

Yes, there was really no one else to blame but himself.

As his long strides covered the way home, the moon shining down on the empty streets, Spencer thought back to the moment when he finally noticed you eating less and less.

———

You pulled down the cuffs of Spencer’s Caltech sweater, leaving only the tips of your fingers peeking through. Everything about it made you self-conscious. How it drapes down your shoulders differently from before. How it wraps around your body, sending shivers down your spine. And how it leaves the lower half of your plush thighs exposed for anyone to see—anyone to judge. 

You hated it.

You hated how hyper aware a single comment from a distant relative made you feel.

**

A voice from a distance called out your name causing you to look around the aisles of grocery and come face to face with an aunt, twice removed from your father’s side. 

“It is you!” She leaned in to kiss your cheek. Her choice of perfume, a sickly sweet artificial scent of oranges, wafting on your nose.

It made you want to gag.

A fake smile donned your face. “Oh, hi Auntie. What a surprise to see you back in Virginia.”

“Oh, I just flew in for my husband’s sister’s birthday. You know how we are, always booked and busy with events,” she waved her hand, the ostentatious diamond ring on her finger catching the light. “I haven’t seen you since you graduated college. You look so different now—more and more like your mother.”

“Thanks, I always did look like her,” you awkwardly laughed.

Her eyes traveled down to your feet and back up again, a tight grin on her face. It made her look vicious, condescending, causing you to catch your breath as she uttered the words that would repeat in your head like a commercial slogan you can’t get away from.

“But you were much prettier when you were thinner—” her eyebrow raised, cataloguing the items in your cart. “Might want to cut down on the carbs a little bit, sweetie.”

She poked a wound inside of you that never seemed to fully heal.

You thought you were better, all those years of talking to your therapist and changing your relationship with food for the better made you believe those dark days were behind you. But those spitting phrases veiled as words of care from a family member amplified the doubts once buried in the recesses of your mind.

“I’ll keep that in mind. It was great seeing you, Auntie.”

**

The jiggling of keys brought you back to the present.

“Love, I’m home!”

You called back from the kitchen, finishing up plating tonight’s dinner—a fresh serving of Chicken Alfredo to share. “In here, Spence!”

With a saccharine smile on his tired but beautiful face, he wrapped his arms around your shoulder for a loving hug. His pillowy lips leaving trails of kisses from your temples, to your nose, to your cheeks, and finally landing on your awaiting lips. 

You giggled at his antics. “I missed you today.”

“I missed you too,” another peck on the lips. “Dinner looks amazing. Thank you for cooking.”

“It’s no problem at all, you know how much I like to cook for you.”

He brought up a mystery package to showcase, eyes tracking every minuscule change on your face. “And I brought us some dessert! Your favorites from the bakery.” 

The smile on your face threatened to drop. “That’s—that’s great!”

———

You felt Spencer’s eyes on you all throughout dinner. One of the disadvantages of dating a man who earns his living by understanding human behavior and its changes—triggers, as he would like to call it, is never having the leisure of keeping a secret.

He means well, you‘d like to believe so, but that didn’t change the fact he knew something was bothering you. 

It made you feel like a riddle he wanted to solve. It made you want to scream and cry.

The only reprieve you could get was within the little confines of your shared bathroom, water beating down your back muffling the sobs that escaped from your tightly pressed lips.

Everything felt too much. 

The devil voices in your head listing off the calories each spoonful contains. The mathematical equation of how long you’d need to exercise to lose every unnecessary bite eaten over dinner. And the facade of keeping everything together—everything perfect.

You picked off the sides of your nails, already raw and starting to bleed. 

Maybe you shouldn’t eat breakfast and lunch tomorrow. Maybe you should walk the 15 minute commute from here to the office. It would take 30 minutes but that’s additional exerc—

“Love, is everything alright?” Spencer asked behind the locked bathroom door. 

You turned, turning off the shower, before hurriedly toweling off the droplets all over your hair and body. “Yes, I’m—I’m almost done!”

Swiveling around the dry area, you realized you forgot to bring in a change of clothes beyond a clean pair of underwear.

You sighed to yourself as you wrapped the towel around your chest. Still feeling uncomfortable and oddly naked even then. 

“Spence, there’s still some hot water left—are you okay?” You ask, having found him sitting on the edge of the bed with a distinct frown on his face. 

He stood up. Hands on your waist, shuffling both your bodies closer to one corner of bedroom.“It’s just—you know how much I deeply care for you, right?”

You slowly answered. “Yes, of course. I deeply care for you too.”

“So I have to ask, are you alright? Really alright?”

“Wha—what do you mean? Of course, I am—I’m completely fine,” you vehemently denied. The lump on your throat making you sound hysterical, even in your ears. If you couldn’t fool yourself, what chances were there that Spencer was fooled—none.

“I’ve noticed you’ve been eating smaller portions lately and you didn’t even take a bite of the cakes I brought home. You’ve also been going to the gym daily, instead of your usual five times a week. And you’ve started wearing my clothes more—not that it’s a problem. I love seeing you in my clothes but you’ve started to prefer baggy silhouettes rather than your usuals. It’s like you’re hiding your body. Are you sure you’re alright? You can tell me anything, I won’t judge.” 

It was the soft tone in his voice mixed with his doe, teary eyes that caused you to break under pressure. Your shoulders shook as sobs that you’ve kept bottled up rose to the surface. It was a wave of emotions that battered through your dam of facade. 

“I hate how I look—I hate that I gained weight,” you cried out. “I hate how a relative pointed it out and how her words won’t leave my mind. I hate it, Spence. I loathe it all—the voices in my head whispering how I should keep track of every meal I eat in a notebook like I did before. Telling me to never go beyond a 800 calories per day, to workout two hours a day twice! It’s just—” you took a deep breath, vision blurring from tears. “—so exhausting and please, make it stop.”

Spencer hugged you tight to his chest, as if wanting to merge you two as one to take away all your pain and sorrow. Your hands creasing his white button down with a grip so tight. 

For a second, it felt liberating to let it all out. But the fleeting emotion had passed, leaving you with only shame from your admittance.

“I’m so sorry you feel that way,” he detangled himself, enough to stare into your eyes. “Love, can I show you something?”

You nodded. He slowly turned you around, back against his chest, to face the full length mirror tucked in the corner. His eyes never leaving yours as his calloused fingers reached up to the tucked ends of the towel wrapped around your body. He tilted his head, asking for your permission to which you slowly nodded.

Your naked body was in full view. Your nails digging onto your palm as you catalogued every minuscule flaw there is—the additional flesh around your stomach and sides and your hips no longer as thin as they were before.

“Do you know what I see?” He softly asked.

You bit your lip before shutting your eyes close, unable to take what was right in front of you. “Me and how I gained weight?”

He placed a kiss on your temple. “No. I see a beautiful adult woman who has curves in all the right places—”

He laid a kiss on your cheek. “I see the love of my life in her full loving glory—”

He kissed the side of your neck. “I see my future wife who loves herself and all the changes that aging and our slowing metabolism entails—”

He placed one last kiss on your shoulder. “—I see you, and I love every piece of you. And I hope you love every part as much as I do.”

Comments and reblogs are highly appreciated!

[irisposts]

Bloodlines

summary | daemond needs to marry and you're at the top of his list.

pairing | daemond targaryen x (f)cousin!reader

wordcount | 1k

warnings | 18+, MINORS DNI!, very light smut

edited.

You never expected your cousin to be here with you on your island of Valyria, much less dining at your table and feasting on your food. You watch as he takes another forkful, his plate nearly empty. He wipes his mouth with a cloth.

You barely touch your meal. The room feels small and intimate despite its grandeur. Heavy stone walls adorned with ancient Valyrian tapestries tell tales of dragons and conquest. While a large chandelier made of dragon bone casts a warm, golden glow across the table. The open doors allow a gentle breeze to drift in from the beach, the sound of waves crashing against the shore tightening the knot in your stomach.

You glance back at Daemon. He hasn’t changed much, though his silver-white hair is now cut short. The last time you saw him, it had fallen past his shoulders, but you find yourself liking this look more. It frames his sharp features, and the dangerous glint in his eyes.

Daemon is dressed in deep, shadowy leathers, perfectly tailored to his lean form. You watch the silver clasps and embroidered dragons shimmer subtly in the low light.

Your own attire feels too revealing under his gaze. The soft, flowing fabric of your gown clings to you, draping in ways that accentuate every curve. Deep hues of blue and green—house colors—wrap around you like a second skin. The slight chill of the evening makes your exposed shoulders prickle beneath his watchful eyes.

“Is there something on your mind?” Daemon’s voice cuts through the air. Casual as he leans back in his chair, swirling his wine. “Cousin?”

You push your plate outward. Your attendant immediately steps forward to clear it.

“Leave us,” you command, your voice steady. The servant quickly departs, leaving only the two of you.

You tilt your head, studying him for a moment, memories swirling. “It’s been quite some time since I last saw you.”

“Three, four years,” he replies with a lazy shrug, “give or take.”

You look away, a warmth growing across your cheeks. “Hm.” You lean back slightly, your fingers brushing against the smooth wood of the table. “You haven’t changed at all.”

Daemon’s eyes sharpen, trailing over you in a way that makes the air you breathe feel heavier. “You have.”

A heavy silence settles in. The moment stretching out as his gaze lingers over you. 

“All grown up now,” he muses, his voice low, almost teasing. He takes another sip of his wine, his eyes never leaving yours.

You chew your lip for a moment, holding back your retort. “You didn’t come here just to visit after four years. A Valyrian steel dagger, no less. A fine gift, even for you.”

Daemon chuckles, the sound rich. “Can’t a man visit his family without suspicion?”

“You?” You raise an eyebrow, the corners of your lips pulling into a wry smile. “Never.”

His amusement deepens as he stands, his movements fluid, every step deliberate. He paces slowly around the table, fingers gliding across its surface. As he walks, his gaze briefly flicks upward to the ceiling. There lingering, is a painting of Valaryian lovers entwined beneath dragon wings.

“You always did see through the masks people wear. I admired that about you.”

He stops in front of you, his hand lifting as if to touch your chin, but you tilt your head away.

Your voice is steady as you speak. “What do you want, Daemon?”

He lowers his hand, though the smile doesn’t fade. “I must marry.”

A small grin tugs at your lips. “I’ve heard the rumors about you and Rhaenyra. If they’re true, why not her?”

Daemon’s smirk widens, amusement flickering in his eyes as he looks back at the ceiling. “Rumors,” he says softly, “are often more fun than the truth.”

His eyes lock onto yours, sharper now. “But you and I both know what strengthens Valyria.”

“Keeping the bloodline pure?” you offer, your voice firm but tinged with curiosity.

His silence answers you.

“Hm.” The sound escapes your lips as you push your chair back and rise. Standing so close, you feel the heat radiating from him, his breath fanning your face. 

Your hand presses against his chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heart beneath his armor-like clothing. His hand finds your waist, gripping you with a possessive firmness. “What if I have eyes for another?” you ask, your voice barely a whisper-- the challenge clear.

Daemon’s dark chuckle sends shivers down your spine as he leans in close, his breath brushing against your ear. “Vezof rȳbagon skoros iā rūmu zirȳ rōvon,” he whispers in Valyrian, his voice like silk and steel combined.

Don’t forget what I did to you four years ago.

He pulls back just enough to meet your gaze, his lips almost touching yours, his eyes burning with the same fire you’ve tried to suppress for years.

Your heart pounds as you feel the weight of his words. You remember how he deflowered you—rocking into you like a piston, kissing your lips, biting at your skin—setting your body on fire. The memory fades.

You meet his gaze head-on, your lips parting as you murmur in Valyrian, “Nyke gīmigon lo ao gīmigon…”

I could never forget.

His eyes darken, the grip on your waist tightening. Daemon’s other hand finds the curve of your neck, his touch slow and deliberate, gliding down to the material of your sleeve. With a smooth motion, he slides it off your shoulder, your bare skin to the cool air.

Your eyes flicker from his lips back to his intense gaze, the air between you electric. You feel the steady rhythm between your thighs quicken as his fingers slide down from your chest. Daemon hitches up the material of your gown. His fingers make their way between your thighs. The pads of his fingertips brush against you and you fall forward onto his shoulder. 

You breathe harshly. His fingers are cool and should be foreign. But the way they sink into you, you know it’s all too familiar. You let out a moan as he stills.

The hand on your waist moves up to your shoulder and then to your chin. He holds you, bringing your face to look at him.

“Nyke jaelā ao.” 

I want you.

You let out a soft moan as his fingers spread inside you.  “Ērīninna nyke.” 

Then take me.

Without hesitation, he closes the distance. His lips capture yours in a kiss that ignites every spark between you, consuming you both in a fire that’s been smoldering for far too long.

[zae-heeyyy]

Erudition

Summary: Arthur teaches you how to read. Pairing: Arthur Morgan x female!reader Word count: 2,790 Tags: smut, high honor Arthur Warnings: 18+ MDNI

a/n: I spent an unnecessary amount of time perfecting this one. Tried my hand at sketching/tracing/cut and pasting pieces of Arthur's original journal to make this one (don't look at it too close lol). Hope you enjoy!

Edit: If you didn’t know, it was common for adults to be illiterate in 1899 due to the lack of widespread public education.

erudition: the quality of having or showing great knowledge or learning; scholarship.

Poor Hosea had tried everything in an effort to teach you how to read: encouraging you with kind words first, then employing tough love tactics when your stubbornness hindered your progress. On one particular day, you had enough of each other. In a rare moment of weakness, he slammed his hand on the table when you refused to try.

"Wanna be an illiterate ninny your whole life, do ya?" A scowl etched deep lines on his face, and you stormed off, not saying a word. A cough riddled him, and he bowed his head in part frustration and part regret for letting himself lose his temper with you. He only wanted the best for you, even if you didn't want it for yourself.

A particular contemplative cowboy had been watching a short distance away, a pattern Hosea had noticed lately. Still coughing, he waved him over.

"Ah, Arthur. I know you're smarter than you look. Maybe you can reach that girl. I've done all I can, I fear." He pressed the book into Arthur's hand in more of a silent demand than a request. Arthur nodded in understanding, sighing, wondering how he'd been demoted from gang enforcer to teacher.

Cursing under your breath, you prayed that Arthur would just walk away, not because you didn't like him, but because you liked him too much. You and the other women got a kick out of watching him do chores around camp, his shirt nowhere to be found. He was damn gorgeous and didn't have a clue. Nobody else had a clue, either, that you wanted him. You wanted him in many ways and cared about what he thought of you.

The hope that he'd refuse Hosea's request or come another time fell short when his figure towered over you, shading you from the high noon sun. You kept your head bowed, refusing to meet his gaze until he tapped the book's hardback cover, bidding for your attention. Your eyes met his sheepishly. Reading him did not come easy either, especially in your interactions. Something about the way he carried himself around you left you feeling unsettled. There was a perpetual tension that he seemed to shed in the company of anyone but you. You didn't quite get it, though, because he always remained gentlemanly despite it all.

"C'mon." A sculpted, outstretched arm reached down to you, and you took it reluctantly, letting him lift you up from your spot. Following close behind, you let him lead you to the outskirts of camp near a boulder and a broken wagon. The cacophony of camp faded away as you joined him on the ground, your backs against the rock. You sat expectantly, concentrating on your fidgeting hands and fighting off the urge to cry.

"You just gotta focus," he said, opening the book to where you last left off and putting it back in your hands. Shaking your head, you tried to blink away hot tears building up behind your eyes.

"Don't want you to think less of me, Arthur. Don't wanna do it." Keeping your voice steady and suppressing the lump in your throat proved increasingly futile.

"Hush and focus." His tone only made the mystery of him hazier. How could he so easily switch between evil debt collector, out for blood, to nothing short of a gentle giant, so comforting and protective? The thought only made your vision cloud up more.

Blinking rapidly, you took a deep breath to calm yourself before reading the words on the page aloud. You could only get through the first sentence before your voice betrayed you, shaking unevenly, accompanied by a saline drop rolling down your face and onto the page.

"Hey..." Arthur clutched your chin and turned it to face him, forcing your eyes to heed his. "You gotta stick at things. I know it's hard, but that ain't no reason to cry about it." A rough thumb wiped away your tears. He scooted closer to you, wrapped one arm around your shoulders, and held the book with the other hand. "Just relax. It's just me and you out here. I ain't gonna think less of you or let anybody else, for that matter. Forget about all that." You held one side of the book with your left hand, and he had the other with his right, " Here, start again, slow now."

Goosebumps prickled your skin as a wave of calm washed over you. Arthur stayed patient while you composed yourself and read through twice, the second time outshining the first. He nudged you with his elbow, flashing a toothy grin. "See? Not so bad," he remarked. With another breath, not as shaky as your other ones, you closed the book and returned it to him, feeling more accomplished than you had in a while.

Now that your attention wasn't being spent so much, the pounding in your ears grew louder, the source of the sound leading to none other than the relentless beating of your heart. The musk of tobacco and leather infiltrated your nose, making you suddenly aware of how close you were to him. He removed this arm from your shoulders, the missing weight of it making you feel unexpectedly empty. Before he could scoot away some more, you turned to kiss his cheek.

"Thank you, Arthur, for helping me. I know I'm not easy to work with." He smiled shyly and dipped his head, avoiding eye contact. A silence fell between you, and you spoke again, dismissing yourself. "I should probably get back to it." You gathered your skirts to stand, and he wrapped his fingers around your wrist before you could walk away. Even though crimson had crept up in his ears and neck, he kept his face impassive as always.

"When Ms. Grimshaw can spare you, come find me, and we'll keep at it."

So you did. You'd meet in the clearing behind the rock on the rare moments of shared free time, continuing the routine, and you were getting better every day. Then, Arthur brought you a mystery book that he'd found or stolen, and it was nothing like a Penny Dreadful, too complex and challenging for you to decode. You felt like you'd taken one step forward and two steps back.

And just like you'd done with Hosea a few days ago, you tried to storm away from Arthur. You didn't get far before his hands were on your hips, dragging you down into his lap. Faces inches apart, his hot breath warmed your face as he spoke, eyes stern.

"You can't just throw a tantrum whenever life gets hard, woman." Huffing in defiance, you opened your mouth to argue, but you closed it promptly, keenly aware of the change in his demeanor. Your eyes were on his, but his were on your lips. He licked his own, face set with resolve. Letting his forehead press against yours, he kissed you. Without a thought, you kissed him back, melting into his arms. Gaze intense, he tore away from you, talking low and firm. "You're gonna sit your pretty self down and do this, alright?"

Your hand went absentmindedly to your lips, drawing them in as you tasted him. Who knew a kiss was all you needed? With a gentle shove, he settled you back on the ground beside him, retrieved the book, and opened it once more.

When you finished, you looked at Arthur, and he was staring back at you with a cocky grin. It was the first time you'd read with no mistakes. You threw yourself back into his arms, climbing into his lap, a knee on either side of him. Holding you firm by the waist, Arthur didn't hesitate to kiss you again this time, letting desire he didn't even know he had guide him to you. He could have you like that for hours, and he did, only easing his grip on you when you heard pans banging, alerting you to dinner.

Arthur had discovered the key to motivating you, and since then, you discovered a newfound love for reading. You eagerly awaited your lessons, knowing the handsome outlaw's lips would be there for you when you finished.

Arthur was happy to help, but it wasn't just about the makeout sessions for him. Of course, he could die a happy man with you on top of him, but he loved how your eyes lit up when you made progress. He loved seeing you feel confident. He loved making you happy.

Though he wouldn't dare complain, he couldn't help the nagging feeling that Hosea had knowingly arranged this? Arthur tried to go unnoticed in his subtle observations of you, attempting to conceal the fact that he was sweet on you and had been for a while.

"Can't con a conman, Arthur," his surrogate father once told him. Maybe that wasn't just about robbing. The gunslinger wanted you so bad after all this time, needed you, and hoped you needed him just as much. He'd made himself free today, waiting patiently for you to finish your chores, keeping himself occupied with minor tasks. Just as you finished, you watched him disappear behind the grass and head to your spot.

You joined him; the book rested in his lap while he smoked a cigarette. You took the cigarette from him, having a drag yourself and giggling at your own mischief. He snatched it back from you, pretending to be annoyed but smiling nonetheless. Taking one more puff, he snuffed it in the grass. Before he could make another move, you took the book from his lap, replacing it with yourself. Your hands went to the nape of his neck, drawing his lips into yours. He kissed you back, entertaining you momentarily, but withdrew with his hands still resting on your backside.

"Read first, then I'll take care of ya', sweetheart." His eyes were half-lidded, and his voice lowered a few octaves, both weighed down with desire. You huffed and unmounted the cowboy, opening the book and reading, anything to feel his touch again. As you finished the last paragraph, your attention shifted to his hand kneading circles into your thigh. Breath thickening, his other hand fell to the hem of your dress, making it ride up as his hand traveled slowly up your leg.

The reading grew choppier now, your attention too consumed by his touch. You stopped reading altogether when his hand snaked over your thigh, and three of his fingers pressed against a warm, damp spot in the center of your bloomers. Flushing, a faint gasp escaped you.

"Gonna need to get these off, darlin'," he huffed into your ear. Wasting no time, you tossed the book aside and lifted your hips to slide the garment down around your ankles. Desire almost overpowered him; he wanted to devour you, to have his fingers and face buried between you, but he had a job to do, and he always finished the job.

Stopping, he moved his hand from your heat to your thigh and reached across you to grab the discarded book. Clearing his throat, he thumped the book, "Another page." Incredulous, you blinked a few times, gawking at him.

"Arthur, how do you expect me to focus when—"

He cut you off with a curt whistle and a stony glance, "Shut it, woman, and read." His grip tightened on your thigh. Those pools of blue and stern tone sent another jolt through you; god, if only he knew what he did to you. Like you were hypnotized, you opened the book, still very aware of your aching womanhood. He kissed your neck, his chest vibrating with amusement.

"Good girl," he murmured in your ear.

You were wrapped around his finger figuratively, and you craved to be literally, too. As you began to read aloud again, his hand smoothed over your thigh and landed right where you wanted it. He glided a finger up and down that sacred site, stopping on your clit and rubbing tiny circles there. Involuntarily, you arched up into his hand, and his name fell off your lips in a moan, your focus tearing away from the printed words at your hands. Then he stopped, taking away that sweet attention you loved so much.

"Shhh...Keep going;" his voice was low and deep, and he kissed down your neck to your shoulder. He moved his hand back when you started again; it was the most fluent you'd ever read. You don't know how you managed. As soon as you finished the last word on the page, you tossed the book and grabbed Arthur by the hairs on the back of his head, tugging him towards you and tasting him. He groaned and let a finger slip inside of you.

You gasped at the invasion, raising your hips off the ground and tilting into him. Pressing his lips to your ear, he kissed it and whispered mischievously, "You tryin' to get us caught?" You could feel him smile against your ear, and you pulled him to you once more, letting his mouth muffle your sounds of ecstasy.

He loved the way you felt, so velvety, slick, and tight. He teased you, pumping you with just one finger, then lightly circling your clit just to stop and caress you all over. You knew, and he knew, that he could bring you to that peak at any moment, but he didn't want it to be over just yet. He'd dreamed what you felt like for so long, how you'd respond to him, and now that it was reality, he wanted to savor every minute.

You were rocking your hips now, trying to feel any semblance of friction, trying desperately to reach the climax that Arthur kept you right on the edge of.

Then he sank two more large digits inside, making you press your head on his shoulder and squeeze your eyes shut. He waited for you to adjust, kissing your ear and talking you through the girthy new additions. His thumb back on your clit caused a shiver to run down you as you relaxed.

"There you go," he mumbled in your ear, and you knew it wouldn't be long then. His thumb never left, keeping a constant speed and pattern as he worked you. Your stomach burned as that sweet, sweet tension built inside of you. Arthur buried his face in your neck, focusing on bringing you bliss. "That's it, sweet girl. Give it to me."

He groaned along with you as your embrace on his fingers tightened, and your body shuddered. He kept his hand there as you came down, relishing in the way your insides squeezed and released him over and over again. His head spun when he removed his fingers from you; you were so wet, all for him. He'd been so focused on you that the bulge in his pants went unnoticed until now.

Meanwhile, you had replaced your bloomers and smoothed out your skirt, trying to reset after the fireworks behind your eyes had exploded. You giggled, seeing Arthur give attention to his own building arousal. You beamed at him, all cheeky and coy.

"I think I hear Ms. Grimashaw looking for me," you teased, standing and dusting your skirt. His face fell bewildered, and you couldn't look at him in fear that your innocent act would falter. "Gonna have to bed me properly if you want more, Mr. Morgan."

With that, you winked at him and walked away, leaving Arthur with just his hand and imagination to satisfy him. You'd decided to join Hosea at a table, taking a piece of discarded newspaper and reading it yourself. He watched, a proud smile growing on his face. It only took Arthur five minutes to calm himself, reappearing from the treeline with eagle eyes that focused only on you.

Crazed, he approached you, placing a heavy hand on the small of your back before removing it hastily, remembering he was out in the open now. Hosea's eyes shifted between you discerningly. He coughed and gestured to the paper in your hand. "Well, Arthur, it seems you're a better teacher than me, after all." Neither of you caught the hint of amusement in his voice. You patted Hosea's shoulder and stood.

"Thanks, old man. I love reading now. In fact, me and Arthur are gonna go to town right now for some more Penny Dreadfuls. We'll bring you another paper, too."

Arthur perked up at this new suggestion and followed after you, practically tripping over himself as you headed towards his hitched horse. Hosea returned to his newspaper, kicking his feet up and chuckling to himself knowingly. His hunch had been right about you two, after all.

[facts-i-just-made-up]

Writing Advice From Various Authors!

Writing fiction isn’t easy but it can be fun and rewarding once you get the hang of it. It’s helpful to look at the advice of popular authors to find your groove. Here are various writers and their advice on writing:

Ernest Hemingway

“Write drunk and edit sober?” I never said that. Do both drunk, wimp.

William S. Burroughs

Just goddamn write and don't damn censor yourself or you should be hanged like a twink what's set aflame as he’s hanged on rope made of the lies and deceits of the city, the cursed city, the lugubrious city.

Yukio Mishima

You cannot capture beauty in words. Instead, die very painfully on someone's office floor, in that alone there is beauty.

Stephen King

Write six pages a day and don’t cut anything, even if everyone says “Stephen, for the love of god don’t write that, the rest of the novel is great but please don’t include that, what are you thinking?”

Cormac McCarthy

do whatever you want dont even use punctuation then people will think youre brilliant for some reason for each writer is the writer of all writers who suffers the sins of all men

J.K. Rowling

It’s critical to teach tolerance, understanding, and compassion in your books. Then and only then will people believe you when you tell them to hate and harm the people you tell them to.

E.L. James

Put your pen to paper so hard it can poke past that thin membrane page and plunge hard into your imagination. Write with strokes gentle and firm that make the reader soaked in their own gratification and struggle to close the book back up again, so hard did they break its spine in the throws of their perusal.

Hunter S. Thompson

The hell are you asking son don’t you dare YOU GET OFF MY PROPERTY! I invited you? Maybe but it won’t make you less dead THIS IS THE TIME WHEN THE WORD IS MADE FLESH! Republican meat needs no salt.

Ari Bach

Writing fiction isn’t easy but it can be fun and rewarding once you get the hang of it. It’s helpful to look at the advice of popular authors to find your groove. Here are various writers and their advice on writing.

[humanitys-strongest-brat]

Kintsugi - ch. 2

Pairing: Coach!Levi x Injured fem!Reader

CW: major themes of injury, depression, and hopelessness. 18+ minors and ageless blogs dni.

wc: 3.2k

a/n: Reviewed and edited by the lovely @tobbi-loves-levi whom I am endlessly grateful for~

previous chapter / masterlist

Heat radiates up from the pan over your wrist as you cook your breakfast, stirring mindlessly as you lose yourself in thought. The rattle of your phone against the counter interrupts you. Turning the stove on low you flip your phone over from its downward position to see Levi’s contact illuminating the screen. Immediately your chest tightens up. It’s only been two days since you last spoke to him. You let it ring for a few seconds before slowly sliding your thumb across the screen to answer. 

“Hello?” You hold your breath, hoping he doesn’t notice. 

“Morning,” Levi starts, his tone causing your nerves to fray more than they already were. “I reviewed everything you sent over and drew up a recovery plan. If possible, I’d like to go over it in person.” It’s still overwhelming to know just who it is you’re talking to.

“Okay sure.. When?” You ask. 

“Today?” 

Your eyebrows shoot up in surprise. Moving things along this quickly isn’t exactly what you expected to happen. “Yeah, I can make it in today.” You confirm. 

“Eleven work for you?” He asks. 

You glance over at the clock on the stove, seeing you had more than enough time to get ready “Perfect.” 

“Alright. Sina training center, left wing. My office is on the second floor. I’ll text you the address. See you then.” He hangs up and seconds later your phone buzzes with the address as promised. 

***

Sina Training Center is on the opposite side of town from the arena you trained at for Worlds. Having lived in this city for less than a year you’ve only ever seen it in passing. When you finally find a place to park it’s quite the walk before you make it inside, and when you do you’re shocked by the size of this place. It’s a huge lobby, different areas lead you to sport specific sections of the building. 

You head left and follow the signs that direct you towards the ice sports wing. On your way to the elevator you pass by the large window. Ice is on full display through this window, causing your stomach to tighten. You stop and observe as three girls train with their respective coaches on the ice. An ache grows in your chest as you watch them. 

When you step off the elevator onto the second floor and make your way into the waiting room, there’s a man standing in front of the door that leads to the offices looking down at an iPad. You walk up with the intention of politely getting past him, but when he looks up to face you your heart stops.

That scar is unmistakable. A clean cut that trailed from above his eyebrow all the way down through his lip. Small dots on either side from the stitches even after all this time, and a white glaze over his right eye. Even so, the man in front of you was breathtaking. It was definitely him. 

“Wouldn’t have made it very far,” he breaks the silence causing you to snap out of it, and you definitely feel like an ass for staring. 

“I’m sorry?” 

He quickly shifts to the left of the door revealing a key card scanner, “and I never mentioned which office was mine.” He sounds just like he did on the phone, so.. abstruse? If this wasn’t a professional setting you’d believe he already hated you.

 “Levi.” He states, extending his hand out for you to shake. You can’t help but stare. You’re standing in front of one of the most unrivaled skaters, even the accident couldn’t take that title from him. 

“Nice to meet you.” You finally muster up. He’s silent for a moment, seemingly observing you.  

“Likewise.” He finally says before looking back down and wrapping up whatever it was he was doing on the iPad. He holds it at his hip and digs through his pocket, pulling out a blue lanyard with the training center's logo lined across it, at the end hangs a small white card. “This is yours.” He says. You grab it from him and take a look. It’s a key card with a barcode and your name printed on it. “This will get you into any area designated for skaters, and past this door to my office.” You swear you can hear his voice lift at the second half of that sentence. “Follow me.” You nod as he leads you back into the elevator. Once you’re on the main floor again he points to the rink you passed on your way in. 

“That's the common rink, used for general training and classes.” He explains, leading you in the opposite direction down the hall and stopping at a pair of double doors. He presses his key card against the reader on the wall and quickly walks in as they open. When you follow in behind him, you’re stunned to see another large common area lined with equipment shops and a small snack bar section. To the right are two more ice rinks, one immediately to the right of the door you came in and the other’s entrance on the far wall straight across. “Those are the specialty rinks, I call them the rehab rinks.'' He starts, heading in that direction. “They both serve the same purpose though, one is generally used for the hockey team to train off-season. Eventually, we’ll be over there in the third one.” He gestures for you to follow him inside, scanning his card at the entrance. Your breathing nearly seizes. This is the closest you’ve been to the ice since February. 

“It’s our smallest rink. Reserved specifically for those recovering from injury who need a less congested area to work in.” He walks the edge of the boards with you in tow, eyes glued to the ice the entire time. “Locker rooms.” He says. You almost ran straight into him not noticing he had stopped to point them out. 

Circling back and crossing the large common area with you, he scans his key again. “This is the gym, and past that door is the PT area.” he points past another set of locker rooms. You’re already so overwhelmed, even for you this entire building was so high profile. You felt out of place. “For the next few weeks, we’ll be spending most of our time here.” 

You're so sick of physical therapy and just want to be back on the ice already.

As the two of you walk back out towards the elevators to get to his office, he looks over to you. “Do not use any facility without me there with you for now.” He says, and you can tell he’s serious.

***

Levi pulls a folder from his desk as you sit across from him. “Your current recovery plan is nauseating.” He says bluntly, dropping the folder onto the desk. 

You’re stunned by the quick change in his tone. “Excuse me?” 

“First of all, they set you up for failure before you even left the hospital.” He starts, pulling out printed copies of everything you sent over from the folder. “Ice? Really? Are we still living in the stone ages?” He scoffs “You should have been doing small movements for that ankle since day one, and I don’t see any recommendations here for that.” 

“There wasn’t..” You confirm, eyes so wide they could fall out of your skull. It was hard to believe how involved with your recovery he was, not expecting him to review your progress from day one. You figured he would just pick up along with where you already were. 

“Of course, and you weren’t referred to the proper resources. Standard physical therapy would never have gotten you back on that ice. It’s up to you but I think you’d do better full time here.” He says, shaking his head. “Christ, did your coach do literally anything for you?” 

You wince at the mention of Coach Tarasov, having ghosted her after she drove you home from the hospital. You haven’t reached out since, positive it’s too late now. Getting a new coach was just another thing you’d have to do to get yourself back up. “I didn’t really give her the chance to..” 

Levi hummed in response. “You moved on from basic balance too fast, that’s why you’re struggling so badly now. Balance is the most important part of this, you’re a figure skater. We’ll start our assessments there.” 

“I don’t have the time to start over.” You reply immediately. 

“Do you think you’ll have time when this happens again because you re-injured yourself?” He asks flatly and the question sinks deep. “You won’t, and we’re not starting over. I’m assessing where we are now.” 

We. 

“Okay.. you’re right.” You exhale and let yourself lean back into the chair. 

“I know I am.” He pulls all of the pages back together and slips them back inside your folder. “Three days a week. Monday, Wednesday, and Friday, seven to eight?” He asks as if it were a question. 

“Yes, that works.” You affirm. This was your only option and you had a feeling he knew that too.

He nods and pulls another packet out, sliding it towards you. “Review and sign these.” He says. Flipping through it you recognise it’s the plan he just went over with you, and you sign when prompted. He reaches his hand beside his computer and slides you another white card. “For the parking garage.” 

*** 

The next day you park in the garage and it’s a much easier walk inside, considering it happens to be attached to the skating wing of the training center. You scan your way in and head through the gym, and into the physical therapy room once you throw your stuff into a locker. 

When you walk into the room you see Levi talking to what you assume to be another employee. He’s tall, muscular, blond. It looks like he’s actually enjoying their conversation. The discussion seems to stop when Levi’s eyes find you, and he gestures for you to follow him. Racing to catch up with him, you see the man eye the both of you before turning to leave. 

“Who's that?” Curiosity gets the best of you. 

“Erwin, he’s a personal trainer in another wing.” Levi responds without delay. “Sometimes comes and bothers me between appointments.” As harsh as that sounded, you could tell it came from a place of adoration.

Levi has you sit down after taking your shoes off. You’ve been here before, it’s the same place you got assessments done the first time. You watch as he kneels down and sets the tablet beside him on the mat, gently pressing his thumbs into the front of your ankle and asking you to move your foot in several directions. He feels like a different person in this room than he was in the office or on the phone. He’s gentle and precise, jotting down notes in between every test he does, and making sure you’re comfortable. He's way more involved than your last therapist and you haven’t even gotten past the assessment. 

“Let’s try something.” Getting back onto his feet, he walks across the room and grabs an object from the ground. You immediately recognize it as a balance board. It’s a flat square board with a rounded bottom. He places it down on the floor and gestures you over. “Go ahead and step up here.” He reaches his hand out for you to grab. You nervously place your hand in his and step onto the board with your left foot, relying on Levi to support you while you find your balance. 

“Great.” He encourages, his tone setting off tiny flutters in your stomach as you attempt to balance yourself. He takes a small step back, seamlessly supporting the weight you’re pushing onto his hand. “I’m going to let go, see how you do here.” He says and waits for you to center yourself before slowly pulling away. He continues to hold his hands out in front of you, palms facing up so you can hover yours above incase you need help with balancing. 

Immediately after he retracts his hand your ankle shakes, a reminder of just how far behind you are. A few seconds later discomfort takes over, sending a sting up the inside of your leg. You let your fingertips fall onto his, your eye twitches as you try to avoid relying on him for balance. 

“How does that feel?” 

“It kind of hurts.”

“Stop.” He grabs your hand and helps you back down off the board. “Then we aren’t there yet.” He comments, jotting the notes down quickly. 

You let out a sigh, this is what you meant when you said you couldn’t afford to start over. “I should be on the board by now.” You think out loud. 

“Not if it hurts.” He quips, letting the iPad rest against his hip from the strap hanging off his shoulder. “If you can’t balance on that board you won’t be able to balance on a blade.” 

“I’ve been in therapy for weeks,” your thoughts quickly spiral, having the determination to recover means nothing if your body works so hard against you. “If I can’t get back on the ice by-“ 

“I’ll get you back on the ice.” 

Your thoughts lapse. The way he said it with such certainty makes you want to believe him that much more. 

“Look, I told you your last program was shit,” he sounds like he’s trying to be comforting “it’s not going to happen overnight, and definitely not with that attitude.” 

You don’t know how to respond to that. You know he’s right. Again. 

Levi leads you to the center of the room for mobility stretches, another exercise you’re more than familiar with. He watches as you shift your weight onto your right leg and tip your left foot outward, it doesn’t hurt but the pull is uncomfortable. You inhale harshly through your nose, pushing further against the strain. 

“Don’t force it.” Levi instructs, keeping a close eye on your form. 

You switch from stretching to the side to stretching your ankle forward. After going back and forth between the two for about 5 minutes Levi stops you again, moving on to the stationary board for heel lifts. You step up and let your heels hang off the back of the board, every raise has your ankle shaking. You watch Levi in the mirror in front of you, he has a peculiar look on his face. He slowly kneels down behind you to watch closely as you continue to rise up and down on the board. 

“Stop, get down.” Levi says firmly.

You oblige, immediately stepping back down onto the padded floor. Levi picks up the tablet and starts quickly swiping across the screen, eyebrows raised and lips pressed in a flat line. 

“Your old therapist,” he starts, still quickly filing through pages on the iPad, “did they massage that ankle.” 

“No.” You confirm his suspicions. 

“‘Course they didn’t.” He mumbles, rolling his eyes as he lets the iPad fall back down against his side. “It’s stiff.” He’s already walking back toward the tables.

You follow behind him nervously, sitting up on the table when prompted. You watch as he methodically washes his hands in a nearby sink. When he comes back he tells you to lay back. He stands at the end of the table, gently bending your foot toward him. You chew the inside of your lip as he slips his hand under your heel, pressing his thumb gently behind your ankle bone and guiding the pressure up. Your breath catches at the slight discomfort but it's slowly replaced by a sense of relief. He continues in that same upward direction, adding a gentle circular motion after a few moments. You turn your head away, fidgeting with your shirt as your heart rate seems to accelerate. 

You aren't sure what it is about him. From the moment you knew you’d be working with him it’s all you could think about. At first you chalked it up to admiration. Maybe it was the way he cared, even underneath all the dry conversation and formalities you could tell. Or maybe it’s the way he carries himself. Could be that he’s stunning, like a sunset that perfectly contrasts a clear blue sky. Even now, when he's right in front of you he takes up your mind. Just when you entertain it, imagine his hand sliding up your leg–

“Let’s try again.” His voice startles you out of your thoughts. 

You stand back on the board and Levi kneels down again. You lift up once more and your eyes widen slightly. Not only has the discomfort decreased but your ankle doesn’t shake as bad. It’s not perfect, you still feel the tightness and resistance. That last thing you expected was to make progress during your first session with him. You snap your attention to him, back on the tablet adding data. The corner of his lip upturned in a subtle smirk like he just found the last missing piece of an unfinished puzzle. 

“It was healing stiff.” He comments, switching you to another exercise. “You’re lucky we caught it when we did.” 

“It’s reversible?” You ask, but it comes out as more of a plea. 

“It is.” he confirms. You leave the session that day with a detailed print out of exercises from Levi, instructed to do them in the afternoon of your session days and twice a day otherwise. 

That night as you do them, his voice echoes in your thoughts 

I’ll get you back on the ice.

***

From that point on, your sessions start with a fifteen minute meticulous ankle massage. By the end of the first two weeks you can hold your balance on one foot for thirty seconds with minimal shaking.

Throughout your third week you make miraculous progress. You’re up to forty five seconds of balance on one foot, and painless single heel lifts off the floor and the stationary balance board. 

The last 10 minutes of your Friday session Levi has you balance on one foot and places a tennis ball down directly in front of you. 

“Pick it up.” 

You nod, extending your leg behind you as you slowly bend your knee. Once you have the ball in your hand you slowly rise back up, placing it back in Levi’s hand. He shifts over, setting the ball down to your right. Again, you lower yourself down and back up on one foot with ease. One last time he sets the ball down to your left. When you drop it back in his hand you bring your elevated foot back down to stay stable. He lets out a satisfied huff and walks away, returning with the balance board from a few weeks back and drops it down. He helps you up and this time you pull away from him, quick to neutralize your weight. You make it look easy now.

“Not bad.” His tone sounds indifferent but he has that same look in his eyes, he has it every time you hit a milestone. 

Like every win is yours to share.

On your way out, Levi stops to face you. He opens his mouth to say something but quickly closes it again, seeming to second guess himself. “See you next week.” 

Taglist: @amywritesthings @littlerequiem @humanitys-strongest-bamf @hideandgopeep 

@thechaoticarchivist @sixpennydame 

[absolutebl]

BLs with Strong Historical Elements

Costume dramas, historical BLs, and BLs with time travel or flashbacks to historical locations & times.

These are in order of my personal preference, best at the top.

I Feel You Linger in the Air

2023 Thailand

IFYLITA is an exquisite BL, from filming techniques to narrative framework (much like Until We Meet Again). It's about a gay man from our time who falls into the past, becomes a servant to a noble house, and falls in love with the heir. It turns out this has all happened several times before. Steeped in history and family drama it edges into lakorn (but not as much as To Sir With Love and with way less scenery chewing). This is an elegant and classy soulmates BL... from Thailand which normally doesn't even try for classy. The main couple (both as a pair and as individuals) were excellent, particularly Bright (Yai) whose eye-work acting style is a personal favorite of mine. Pity about the ending. Oh it wasn’t that sad but it wasn’t good either. This show could easily have earned a 10/10 from me except that it fumbled the… erm… balls in the final quarter. Argh. Whatever.

Nobleman Ryu's Wedding

2021 Korea - WeTV

A boy cross-dresses to take his runaway sister's place as a bride to a shy scholar, turns out they like being married. A historical setting allowed this BL to use some seriously old fashioned romance tropes (arranged marriage, evil step-sisters, Cinderfella) but also modern BL stylings like fake relationship & secret identity (drag) plus some cute gay panic. It reminded me of 12th Night more than anything else which just happens to be my favorite Shakespeare play. For all these reasons, I adored it.

(the ghat kiss!)

Tinted With You

2022 Korea - Viki

Fun stylish time travel meets portal fantasy with a likable cast, historical setting, and two actual kisses that mitigate the rough plot and issues around anachronisms.

Word of Honor

2021 China (censored) - Viki/YouTube?

I don’t rec Chinese stuff often, because I believe in censoring the censors, but this show is one of my favorites of the post 2016 censored bromances. It’s two murder-gay assassins (pining sunshine/tsundere), and they are so insanely gay for two boys who will never be allowed to kiss. Tropes include: wuxia, soulmates, paranormal, historical, and fantasy elements.

To Sir, With Love AKA Khun Chai

2022 Thailand - YouTube?

This is a true lakorn (basically Thai tellenovella or soap opera) with scenery chewing performances, especially from the mother characters. Gone With the Wind + Days of Our Lives but gay. That said? I loved it: A glorious central brother relationship (the best, made me cry), het romances, class divide + gay *gasp* main romance - oh my word, the campy drama of it all! Arranged marriage, rebellion, cut sleeves, over-the-top death with curses and regrets, beautiful if inaccurate costumes, secrets unraveling, cover ups, sparkle murder, sex herbs, coils within coils including snakes and murderous green metallic sequins (is anything gayer on this earth?). It’s a WILD ride but it does end happy for our gay boys. A man cries when he finds DEATH GLITTER. Come on! You haffa watch it. That said, like Manner of Death I struggle to rate something on a BL scale when it patently isn’t a BL. So I ended up giving this exactly what I gave that show, 7/10 I enjoyed it a whole lot, but not as a BL.

The Untamed (Special BL Edition)

2020 China (censored) - YouTube

Censored wuxia bromance, amorphous ending. Probubly the best known BL of its kind out of China and responsible for bring many fans to the BL side.

Our Skyy 2: Never Let Me Go

2023 Thailand - YouTube

I was nervous to watch this PondPhuwin vehicle but I liked it a lot! Doomed soulmates + paranormal time travel to fix the past. I’m happy for the outfits and the dancing (if not the singing). It’s not a bad premise and it’s nice to see GMMTV lean into its high production values for a change. I'd adore a full historical starring these two and this was definitely the best of the second series of Our Skyy. I don't think you have to have watched the original Never Let Me Go to enjoy this.

Legend of Long Yang: Rebirth

2017 China

Gaga

Whipping boy trope... literally, servant character takes the strap for the prince, who then makes him his bodyguard and lover when he becomes king. Low budget historical, comes off as kind of cosplay wuxia version of Irresistible Love, but we get (in the credits) an actual kiss, and they both live. So yay for small mercies.

The Director Who Buys Me Dinner

2023 Korea (historical flash backs)

iQIYI

A new employee at a film company encounters a director who claims to have lived 300 years and insists that they have to date (eat, hug & kiss) if baby doesn't want to die. It has a lot of Japanese elements, not the least of which are: an office setting, the fact that every character in this show is unhinged, and a killing of the gays. Featuring a gorgeous & stellar cast, TDWBMD should have utilized them less for melodrama and more for chemistry. This BL surprised me by going there with a lipstick mark AND an actually gay idol. But (you knew there was a but) while it's a unique twist on an office romance it is NOT a unique twist on the doomed red thread trope, resulting in it feeling less than the sum of its parts and ultimately unsatisfying. This might have also had to do with the fact that this was one of those KBLs where I felt how very short it was the whole time I was watching, like I was missing something constantly, in every episode. Worth watching for some but seriously flawed.

First Love Again

2022 Korea (historical flash backs) - Viki

A popular novelist who remembers his past lives meets his soulmate for the third time, only to find she has been reincarnated into the body of a man. This one started out a touch mean-spirited, but we eventually got a good kiss. The confession/rejection scene was justified and the reconciliation and ending was... fine. All in all, the pacing felt rushed and the romantic arc was underdeveloped. They go from like to love to boyfriends in a red hot minute. But that’s par for the course with Korea’s short form. If you don’t mind a heavy does of melodrama in your BL this one has a solid story with a strong concept that’s well acted and produced, making it a classic KBL with better than average chemistry but ultimately a touch forgettable.

Love in Spring AKA Spring of Crush

2022 Korea

This show was all over the place with uneven acting, narrative, and focus (sometimes it wanted to be a slapstick comedy, sometimes a depressing melodrama) which meant no one, actors or viewers, took anyone or anything seriously.... AND it’s a bromance. I was left wondering if SalHyung is now code for “they were roommates” in Kdrama historicals but otherwise largely apathetic and unimpressed. Korea, I now know you can do better. Do better.

Mermaid's Jade

2019 China (censored-esk) - Gaga

Kills the gay.

The Male Queen: Han Zi Gao

2016 China - Gaga

Kills the gay. Schrodinger's BL, both a BL and entirely not one at the same time.

Diary of Heong Yeong Dang

2014 Korea

Kills the Gay

I was gonna do a top 10 list, but there aren't enough by my metrics, so many end sadly.

This post at the behest of @verymuchof thank you for the idea!

Dated April 2023, includes only BLs that had finished their run by that date. Not responsible for cool costume flix that come after that. But you should check the comments to see if any have been added by others!

I might have missed a few that only have time historical elements since I don't always track those.

Also I would like to point out a decided lack of Japan on this list. My ninja yaoi consuming tiny past self is VERY upset about this void.

WHERE ARE MY GAY NINJAS??!!!

(source)

[kanmom51]

Are you sure? Announcement

Ok, so waking up to this little surprise kind of made my day.

With this following:

The two of them in a nutshell. 🤣

And this is how it looks on the Big Hit IG account.

Curious how their names are actually placed next to the other, so that JK's name is next to JM and JM's name is next to JK's.

Curious is what I am going to say.

But back to that little surprise we got.

And before I get into it I want to stress, and this is a given by now, but I will say it once again: these are my observations and opinions. Opinions being the key word here.

Just before we begin on this little surprise clip we got, can someone explain why it's titled 'Are you sure?!' Announcement (from USA) when it actually looks like this was filmed when they were in Jeju?🤔

I'm sorry, but we afraid of watering down, were we?

They couldn't even edit out the gay from a 1:23 min. announcement...

And this is them trying really hard to be on their best behavior for less than a couple of minutes on camera with a script to follow. 🤣

What will we be getting when they are in a relaxed natural setting???

With so much stand alone Jikook content, no amount of editing will be able to hide their dynamics, what they are to each other, what they mean to each other.

I cannot wait!!!

I've already mentioned this in the reblog of JM's Muse numbers, but I am bringing this up again the 1:23!!!

Intentional. A choice. Not a coincidence.

Not when this just keeps to happen again and again and again and again and again... countless times.

What can I tell you? They just melt my heart.

The way I just know that this ended with shits and giggles.

You can see JK breaking into laughter as the camera cuts. That little bob of his Adam's apple, snickering away.

This wasn't an easy one for them to shoot. JK looked tired (end or start of a day filled with activity?), JM looked I don't want to say flustered at times, because that is a big word, but at the same time I don't know what word to use to describe him being a little off his game. JK did his stimming and a little of his swaying, and as much as they clearly had a script to follow (I will get to that), it felt like it was still a hard one to keep a straight face to (JM was the one that mainly faltered on that part). I guess that was also him finding it hard to stay stoic when JK is being adorable, and even harder to do when you have to read out a script describing something that as is has you a little anxious, and you are JM and think that every single thing that JK does is adorable.

🤣

This announcement was all about them and only them. We know how they are with these announcements with the other 5 around to buffer them. Not only was there none of that here, but this was about them, their show, their travels, their Tokyo (notice how very unalike themselves they were while talking about the Tokyo trip? Trying to be unemotional? Like reading out of a text - which they basically were). This show is not a big deal for them. It's a huge deal. And it's not about 'coming out' or not. This is the first time we are being allowed into their world, just them. Not a few minutes of interaction. A whole show seeing them in what JM described ups and downs (I am very curious to see what that's about). We have seen them in relaxed situations in the past. We had BV and ITS. But that has 7 members with interactions and dynamics amongst the lot. This is just JM and JK the whole time. And even with a shit ton of editing that will surely be going on, we are going to be getting a peek into THEM, and this is something that is a huge deal for them, even more so JM.

This is JM talking about the show, their moments that they will be sharing with us. And think that this is JM talking before Sapporo (not to mention Tokyo which looks like we aren't going to be getting any of in this show - shock - not really).

If there was an unscripted moment in this clip, I tend to think this might have been it. Other than that, I think that the two were pretty much on script.

Now let's address that one for a second shall we?

I do believe this announcement recording was scripted. They weren't doing bullet points. This was too hard for them to come up with off the top of their heads. Situation too charged. So there was a script, that could have even been written by themselves. There were things that needed to be said, points to keep to, especially if it was them having this all squeezed into a neat 1:23 minute clip. And just winging it, even more so on this specific subject matter was not an option (btw, most of their announcements are scripted, we see that, we know that, and this in that sense is no different, although again, this one was, in my opinion, way harder for them).

This clip we got to see today is them being on camera scripted for 1:23 minutes.

And this is them on camera without a script for basically the same amount of time (even less in the one frame).

This, my friends, is a good example as to why they needed not only dot points but an actual script to follow here, lol.

So, you understand now why this HAD to be scripted. Same reason why JM kept denying JK of his wish to have a live together.

Before continuing, just wanted to mention this as well:

The way JK is holding on to his hand (there was absolutely nothing wrong with it, this was just him holding himself back). That was the first thing I thought of when this clip started and JK was standing that way holding his hand. But then I looked again and what did I see? Nothing too significant, just the two mirroring each other in they way they are placing their hands, left hand over right. Not a biggie, just a cutie. At the start of the clip, as seen above. And towards the end of it, as seen below.

Cuties.

Back to the scripting... sorry for getting off track. It's not me it's them.🤣

And then you will say: "well, what's the difference between that (as in the announcement clip) and the show?" and to that I will reply:

"Everything".

The show is them being them, travelling, having fun doing different activities, relaxing, at times forgetting the cameras are even there. They get to be themselves without holding back. Because they know that if they are themselves too much then they have the editing to fall back on. Not to mention the difference between an announcement or a live where the full attention is on the audience, that's us (and if they don't have a script they tend to lose focus on us and focus on each other instead - same reason JM told us in the past why he didn't have JK over for his live - he would be paying attention to him instead of us), and the travel show where the attention is on them and their interactions. In that capacity they are supposed to forget the cameras are there. The cameras are there to document them being themselves, natural, with genuine interactions, which they will be, and we, my friends, are going to enjoy every single second of it.

Back to our announcement clip.

The amount of cuts and probably re-takes they needed here. And even with this obviously scripted message it was hard for them to stay grounded (yes, for both of them).

I see where Bunny is going with this and that cut does feel a heck a lot sus. And it is very possible that JK did say something that flustered JM. Although I do still believe that his "I'm not even sure it's ok to release this" isn't meant for something JK might have said while recording this clip (which had multiple cuts to it as they knew it would), but more so to what was referenced by them as "you'll see us as we are".

And yes, it appears like JM is pulling JK back into frame, but if you watch the full video you see that they were both kind of going in and out of it without JM bothering too much. So why here? First off, I think that JK was a little more jittery at this point, he was stimming more and doing a little of his swaying, which JM calms with a touch at times. Perhaps because this was the 'revealing' part? The one they get into a bit of the nitty gritty of the show? Idk.

But I don't think that was the only reason either. I think JM needed the touch at that moment as well. See how he moves from JK's arm to his nape holding on as he says "I'm not even sure it's ok to release this"... like he needed that reassurance himself as well at that moment.

Idk, to me it felt like JM hand placement was done not only to comfort JK but also himself.

And cut/edit, JM is not holding on to JK anymore...

I guess what I'm trying to convey is that we are used to JM being the one to calm JK, ground him. And although I do think that was the correct assumption in the past, I do think that since 2021 that has changed and JK is to JM as JM is to JK the person who calms or grounds them. JM told us as much in Letter.

We also got to see the two with one single hoop in their left ear.

Was this the same day, or did they just wear the hoops like that their whole Jeju getaway? JK in the photos from their meet up with Tae seems to have another earring in his right ear, so possibly not same day.

And will leave you with this as well to do with as you wish.

Ok, not going to talk your ears off, pun intended.

Just one more little secret to tell you, if I already have you here:

Shh...

Don't tell anybody else, this is between me and you...

These two...

They're in love.

Shh...

You didn't here it from me.

[gremlin-girly]

Kinktober Day 7

Title: The Perfect Jotunn Bride

Kink: Macrophilia

Pairing: Frost Giant! Loki x f!Asgardian!Reader,

Tags/ Warnings: SMUT, macrophilia, temperature play (Frost Giant skin), descriptions of violence (not toward reader), arranged/forced marriage, dubcon, mean!Loki (he should just be a warning anyway), knife play (brief), corset, struggling to breathe (bc of the corset), nipple/breast play, thigh riding, teasing, biting/marking, pet names (see below author's note), squirting, vaginal fingering

No beta - and we're ignoring that I posted this 1 minute past midnight xoxo

Word Count: 3.1k

Summary: Your Husband, the Frost Giant Prince Loki, has come back from battle and expects to see his bride.

As always I do not give permission for my work to be reposted, translated or copied. My warnings are non-exhaustive (even though I do try to capture everything) but please read at your own risk. I am not responsible for your content consumption.

I hope you enjoy; likes, comments and reblogs are always appreciated!

A/N: I had to edit this fic more than once to cut and splice things from it. I expect I'll have a part 2 (and 3) soon... I don't even wanna talk about how many words this was YEESH. I gotta learn to make a one shot and not stay up to early hours with a 6k storyline. Again, this was supposed to be LONGER 💀

I found this website here that helped with Old Norse translations (but they may be wrong!) I'll link it once I get the chance - Love, Grem x

smăr einn = little one

Part 2

Prev | Next | Masterlist

You had just barely managed to avoid the advances of your husband for the last few weeks. Too busy with the politics between realms to fully focus on you; and you were grateful for it. Your husband was ruthless, cruel and cold. That last adjective quote literally. The prince of Jotunheim was not to be trifled with; as your brother and father had found out rather perilously. Your father had sought to trick Loki and whilst his back was figuratively turned, your brother  was sent to kill him.  

Loki returned your brother’s mangled corpse back to your home, with a letter promising war unless your father’s prized possession – you – was given as penalty. Marriage with the prince of Jotunheim meant two realms were unified, which was far more prosperous  than war.  However, that meant being ripped away from your home, your family, your friends, your fiancé and everything you had ever known and being thrust into the cold, unforgiving hands of a barbaric frost giant.  You had begged, cried and pleaded with your father but nothing had changed his mind. It was set in stone.

Your new husband took joy in tormenting you on your wedding say, reminding you time and time again that you were lucky to be a negotiation prize rather than one of his spoils of war. The thought had made you shudder with terror and, thankfully, his attentions were lured away to another realm, another battle, another day spent far away from you.

You quickly learned that many of the female frost giants were unimpressed with you as a tiny little thing in comparison to their race as a whole. Your body almost entirely unequipped for Jotunheim weather. Your ladies-in-waiting were no different.  They had spoken in their native tongue in front of you, clearly, discussing you and how you probably didnt meet their standards nor their prince’s. You’d stayed quiet and fiddled with your hands, unsure of how to approach them or speak to them. Everything you knew about frost giants was from your culture; which labelled them as blood-thirsty barbarians. Though, the ice fortress you resided in was immaculate and strictly designed – different from your home in Asgard yet no less civilised.  That was a good starting point.

over the course of the week’s your husband’s absence, you focused on befriending your ladies-in-waiting. You asked about their culture, their lives and the language they spoke. If you were going to be here until the end of your days, you may as well know what is being said behind your back and, well, to your face.

You picked up words quickly, studying in the silence of the enormous bed chamber. You had borrowed a few children’s books from the library, and one or two on the flora and fauna of Jotunheim, though you could only appreciate the pictures thus far.

The bed chamber was far too big   for you, perfect size for your husband, you supposed. Large wooden bookcases adorned the far wall, and there was a small (well small for a giant) fireplace adorned with a fur rug from a creature you couldn’t name, but it was soft. The bed itself was so huge you practically drowned in the covers. It was cosy but you agreed with yourself it was probably cosy because your husband was not there with you.

Yet.

One morning, after waking up  relatively late, your ladies-in-waiting were busying about the bedroom.  

“What’s going on?” you ask nervously, already anticipating the answer.

Gertrud, the more social of the two giantess’, gave you a smile as she paused her dusting of the bookshelf. “Prince Loki is returning from battle today.”

You suppress a shiver and try to smile, but you’re not confident you look entirely happy. “Wonderful.”

Gertrud continues regardless, her face contorting to an excited, doe eyed look.  “He’s sent you a gift ahead of his arrival, my lady.”

“Oh,” you say, trying to sound chipper. In the very short time you had spent in Jotunheim, Loki had only ever taunted you, albeit briefly. A gift was... new. And you didn’t like it one bit.  “How thoughtful of him.”

“He left instruction for you to wear it on his return.” Gertrud says wistfully, as if it’s the most romantic thing she could dream of.

“Wear?” You speak before you can process what’s been said, the shock in your tone evident. Your mouth goes dry and heat burns its way to your cheeks. You weren’t stupid. Wearing something for his return only meant one thing. Your stomach becomes a pit and you have to scream at yourself internally to stop from swaying.

Gertrud mistakes the your shock and flushed face as a sign of excitement, not of worry and fear.  “I must say the garment – whatever it is – is not from Jotunheim. Your husband  must have acquired it for you, my lady.” Gertrud pauses to smile over at you. “I think our prince is quite taken with his bride.”

You flush a deeper shade of pink and clear your throat. “So it would seem.” You murmur carefully. “Where is the garment? What is it?”

Gertrud places the duster down and heads to a dresser on the otherside of the room, picking up a package and handing it over to you. You delicately take the package from her, shivering at the coolness of her skin, and begin to unwrap it. To your surprise, and utter embarrassment, it’s a corset with matching underwear. Gertrud’s eyebrows raise and she gives you a knowing smirk. You bury your face in your hands.

“I do not need to know what that thing is to know it’s intent,” She says smugly. “As I said, our prince is taken with his bride.”

You peek out from your fingers, eyeing the corset.  It’s blue – frost giant blue to be exact – with white lace detail across the bust and back, and white ribbon zigzagging up the back. If this was your husband’s idea of a sick joke, it worked. You still couldn’t decide if you were going to vomit from nervousness.

Gertrud pats your shoulder gently, again misreading your embarassment as bashfulness.

“I will run your bath, my lady. I do not know how to help you into that... thing.” She eyed the corset suspiciously. “But I will ensure that you are ready for your husband’s return.”

You only nod, anxiety twisting your stomach into knots. You should have known this would be inevitable.

You pace fretfully around the large bedroom. You’d wrapped yourself in a robe, hiding your corset and matching underwear, feeling too exposed even for the man who was your husband. You’d attempted to study again, books and notes strewn across the fur rug in front of the crackling fireplace, but the nervousness of your first night with your husband had you too worried to think.

You’d shooed Gertrud away as quickly as you could, after being bathed in the nicest oils and scents imaginable, softening your skin to butter. You’d fiddled with your corset, tightening it possibly too tight, and after one look in the mirror making heat rise where it definitely shouldn’t you’d throat on your robe.

You’d been pacing for an hour, or thereabouts. Word of Loki’s return to Jotunheim had spread like wildfire  within the fortress, yet  he still hadn’t come to see you. Any other time you would have been grateful but you knew that he was tormenting you; keeping you on edge until he decided to visit. You even contemplated running and hiding but you knew the risk; Loki had whispered as much to you at your wedding banquet, reminding you that if you ran away all out war would ensue. Starting with your father’s head on a spike.  You also knew that hiding would only deny the inevitable; you would eventually have to share a bed with your husband and as a wife, you were expected to bear his children. You shuddered again.

The door to the chambers opened. Your head whipped up, hands clutching at your robe tightly without thought, as you watched Loki enter.  He towered above you, easily twelve feet high maybe more, but he must have came from one of the bathrooms because his blue skin trickled with water droplets from his long raven’s wing hair, and he held a towel around his waist.  You averted your gaze to the fire, face flushing. Despite it all, he was still attractive.

Loki’s chuckle echoes throughout the chamber and the door shuts behind him.

“What? No welcome for your husband?”  He sneers. You don’t have to look to know his lips are curled into that cruel smile you’ve grown accustomed to. “And I see you’re not wearing your gift.”

You look over at him as he approaches, too scared to move. “I-I am.” You  murmur, regretting the words as they leave your mouth.

Loki sits on the rug in front of you, on leg up the other flush against the rug, the towel leaving little to the imagination. His red eyes stay on you as he smirks, eyebrows rising in surprise.

“Well,” He gestures at your robe. “Let your husband see.”

Your face burns, your palms are sweaty against your robe, and you pause. You look at your feet, clearing your throat.

“a-aren’t you going to tell me about your battle?” your attempt for stalling is dismissed immediately.

“Later. Show me. Before I remove it for you.”

You nod quickly and with a shaky breath, you untie your robe and let the garment pool at your feet. You would attempt to cover yourself but you aren’t even naked, which somehow makes it worse as you feel Loki’s crimson eyes rake over you.  Your chest his flushed and heaves  in the corset, ribbon straining with each breath. Your breasts look like they might spill over at any given moment and   You feel a little light headed from the entire situation. 

“Come closer, wife.” Loki curls a finger at you and you take a few tentative steps closer until you’re stood between his knees, still staring at your feet. His finger tilts your chin up to look at him. The coolness of his finger makes you shiver but when you meet his eyes, there’s a softness you don’t expect to see. “You look beautiful.”

You don’t quite gasp, but your mouth makes a small ‘o’ in shock. You hadn’t expected something so sincere, let alone nice and it makes heat surge between your thighs.

“Thank you, Loki.” You say softly. Loki shifts his legs, eyes not leaving yours as his lips twitch upwards into a smirk. His gaze flits behind you to your notes and his smirk widens into a grin.

“Ah, my wife has been busy whilst I’ve been gone.” He comments, gaze flicking back to you.  “Come into my arms and tell me what you’re working on, smár einn.”

The foreign words tickle at your memory but you can only recognise the word one. You take another few steps forward, squeaking with surprise when Loki’s cold forearm  wraps around your waist, guiding you to straddle a large, muscular thigh. The icyness of his skin against the warmth between your thighs makes you audibly gasp, and Loki chuckles.  

“Happy I’m home?” He teases, your back meeting his torso as he cages you in around his thigh. Wisps of his hair tickle at your shoulders, and a cool kiss is placed at your nape makes you startle. “Because I’m happy to be back. I thought you wouldn’t wear this for me.”

Your blushing isn’t missed by Loki nor is the throb of your cunt on his thigh. When you don’t answer, Loki’s nose runs along your nape, making you shiver again. You’re breathing harder, your breasts bobbing with each breath, as you try to get as much air into your lungs as possible. You feel like you’re suffocating, even though Loki’s grip loose on your waist.

Loki doesn’t seem to notice, or perhaps he doesn’t care, he’s too busy being smug about your excitement for him, and continues to tease you about your corset; how you look like the perfect Jotun bride now. You mumble thanks at his teases, trying not to look at him and trying not to think of anything, but Loki start to trail icy kisses up your neck that burn your skin in their wake. You mewl quietly and shift your legs causing more friction against your cunt which in turn makes you squeeze your thighs around his gigantic thigh and you notice that the same raised lines on the tough blue skin of his arms and face are on his legs too. Loki nips gently at you shoulder, eliciting a strangled yelp from you.

“That’s it, warm me up, smăr einn.” He taunts, licking the skin he’d bitten with a luke-warm tongue. “Rutting against me like a bitch in heat, no instruction needed.”

Shame floods you at his taunt but so does a throb of excitement. Loki kisses at your neck a little more hungrily in response, earning another few short gasps from you.

“Go on,” He urges in a low, mocking tone. “You want to – I can feel that you want to.”

You whimper pathetically, rolling your hips forward for more friction. Your lip quivers and you bit down – hard – you’ll be dammed if you let him think he wins by seeing you cry. But your giant husband only sneers down at you. Your clit brushes against one of the raised ridges of his skin; electricity crashing through you as you gasp loudly, falling forward onto your palms. Your nails dig into his tough skin when you hear him chuckle, face flushing with anger as you glare in his direction. Loki only mocks you further, holding a hand up in faux-surrender.

“I’m sorry, wife.” He says smugly, watching your reaction. “Please, continue fucking yourself on my thigh.”

You fluster again, but the light-headedness you felt earlier returns. This time, though, instead of struggling to breathe you feel faint and you sway and swoon atop Loki’s thigh. Loki raises an eyebrow, vexed at your actions, before realising that you aren’t faking. Something akin to concern crosses his face and he gets to his feet, holding you close as he takes you to his large bed.

He places you down somewhat gently, your breathing laboured, the constriction from the corset aching at your ribs. You can’t seem to get enough air into your lungs at they scream at your for it. When you look at your husband you wonder briefly if he’ll leave you to die like this and when he pulls a knife from his bedside table, you think he will be the one to take your life instead. The blade is cold against the heat of your skin. Loki doesn’t rush. He trails the tip of the blade down your sternum, between your breasts, to the lacy frill of your corset.

“I can remove this if you so wish,” he says coolly, pressing the blade into your skin, but not hard enough to draw blood. “But I need to hear you beg.”

You want to kick him for the heat that pools between your legs. He knows you’re struggling to breathe with this God forsaken corset on and somehow he manages to find a way to please himself.

“Please.” You huff, but Loki clicks his tongue.

“No, no.” He chides. “Properly.”

His eyes meet yours, and you can feel the challenge emanating from them. You grit your teeth and take a small breath, trying to avoid crushing your ribs. In a small voice you beg him in the way he’s requested.

“Please, husband.” You mumble. “Please, help me.”

The ripping of the ribbons are swift. Your beautiful but bone-crushingly tight corset falls away and you inhale a deep breath that transforms into a gasp when Loki’s mouth finds your nipples and sucks them almost lovingly. Your hands root into his thick black hair, mind drawing a blank, as a cold hand tweaks the nipple he isn’t paying attention to with his mouth. You couldn’t push him away even if you wanted to, not with a giant’s strength. However at this moment in time, you didn’t want him far from you.

Your gasps and moans fill the chamber and Loki smirks up at you from where he’s latched to your breast. Peppering kisses to every inch of skin he can manage, Loki finally finds a supple piece of skin above your left breast that he deems the perfect space for a mark. A mark to show the world that you are his. Only his.

He bites down onto the skin, feeling the vessels burst between his teeth and growls at you when you tug at his hair with a pained yell. You writhe beneath him as he sucks and kisses the spot he marked, the gesture is almost sweet, loving, but you’re too busy feeling too turned on to care. His hands large hands move down to remove what’s left of your underwear, a long, cool finger teasing at your folds.

“Loki,” you say his name with no air left in your lungs, your body trembling under his touch. You’re no longer fighting the desire you feel, which stirs something within Loki’s icy chest. He looks down at you, head tilted faux-curiously, unable to resist teasing you.

“That’s the first time you’ve used my name.” He comments, watching your face contort in pleasure as his index finger breaches your dripping core. “I believe you deserve a reward for being such a good wife.”

His digit pumps you at a vicious pace that, after the assault on your sensitive breasts, sends you careening over the edge of ecstasy quickly. You coat his finger with your cum, chanting his name desperately, strangling his finger with your pussy as he helps you ride out your high. Your legs twitch as you watch him with half lidded gaze as he remove his finger from you with a smirk. He towers over you and before you can say a word, he’s peppering you with soft, cold kisses.

“My smăr einn,” he says softly. “You did well tonight. I look forward to seeing what tomorrow will bring.”

You don’t think about what he could mean, your brain is too foggy and you feel too wonderful to want to dampen the wonderful elation you’re feeling; something you haven’t felt in weeks. You don’t even complain when Loki curls over you, allowing him to wrap himself around you under the sheets of your bed. Nor do you move away when Loki kisses your head and wishes you goodnight; something he’s never done before.

As you drift to sleep, anxiety of the day and the high provided by your orgasm taking its toll, you wonder if maybe your relationship with Loki could be better than you had expected.

[strniohoeee]

Stainless

Pairing: Matt Sturniolo X Female Reader

Synopsis: Y/N is a virgin who so badly wants to have sex with Matt, but she’s scared. However when they’re alone in the triplets house things take a turn….this is for the two requests I got for a virgin reader having soft sex with Matt🥹

Warnings⚠️: This is soft cute sex. Virginity lose, and that’s about it 🫶🏽

Song for the imagine: J’s Lullaby(darlin I’d wait for you) Delaney Bailey

⚠️This is an 18+ story, so minors do not interact, or do??⚠️

Matt and I had been dating for roughly 7 months at this point. These past 7 months have been the best months of my life. I was surrounded by 3 people I loved, and making memories that would last forever

About five months into the relationship is when Matt and I finally decided to tell their fan base. Since I was always in their videos, some fans started to notice some vibes between the both of us.

Honestly I was petrified to tell them because a lot of their fans were super protective over them, and I’m a sensitive girl. I didn’t want to get any hate. Surprisingly we received way more love, and the occasional hate from some 14 year old, but nothing to make me feel any type of way.

Constantly Matt and I would watch shipping edits of us, some that even showed how we acted like a couple months before we even started dating. We loved it so much

Other times I would watch edits on my own of us, or just of Matt, and the comments had my jaw on the floor.

“I know he gives y/n the pounding of her life”

“He’s a skinny white boy. You know he be laying that pipeeeee”

“Poor y/n…..I know he be tearing her shit up”

Although these comments made me laugh, they also made me blush from embarrassment because they couldn’t have been further from the truth. I was a virgin, and Matt and I had only really made out and got handsy. Usually I’d break away and stop it, and he respected it and never said anything about it.

I knew he wanted to have sex because he’s a 20 year old man, and I for sure wanted to have sex because?? We’ll have you seen Matt??

But in the back of my mind I was so fucking nervous. I had never ever had sex. I’ve never given a handjob, a blow job, a hickey…..I’ve never even seen Matt’s dick.

Many times I would crave this intimacy, but I always allowed my fear to get to the best of me. However I was more than ready to have sex with the love of my life, Matt.

Matt and I were alone at their house since Chris and Nick had an event that Matt really could care less for. We spent the whole day together, and now we were currently in his room watching a movie

The whole time I kept thinking about having sex with Matt, and what it would be like. If I’d be bad, nervous or just out right not cut out for losing my virginity.

“Matt…” I said waiting for him to look over at me

“Yeah?” He said looking over and smiling at me

“Can I ask you something?” I said

“Of course baby” he responded back as he paused the movie

“Do you want to have sex with me?” I asked him, and to this his eyebrows raised

“In general or right now?” He asked laughing a little bit

“In general” I told him

“I mean it’s not something that’s necessarily crossed my mind. Of course I get urges, and want to have sex, but it’s not something my mind is always on.” He responded

“Well how come?” I asked him

“I mean I just care about you, and making you laugh and smile, and spending time with you. I just love to be in your company” he said back

“Oh….well have you ever thought of having sex with me…like at all??” I asked him

“I mean sure. Whenever we’ve had heated make out sessions it has crossed my mind. You know? It’s like I think to myself could this go further” he told me

“Oh…” I responded

“Have you thought of having sex with me?” He asked

“Mmm quite often actually” I said being completely honest

“Oh?” He said starting to blush

“But I know I always pull away before it goes any further” I told him

“Yeah, but I don’t mind at all” he said smiling at me for reassurance

“I guess I’m just scared” I said

“Scared of what?” He asked me with a head tilt

“Well I’m a virgin” I told him

“Oh” he said actually shocked

“Yeah, and I just never felt like I could move forward. Not because of you! I know I want to lose my virginity to you, but because I’m so afraid of being bad, or too nervous that it doesn’t work out” I said to him

“I get that. Losing your virginity is very intimate, and for sure scary. That’s valid” he said to me

“I was thinking maybe we could have sex” I told him

“Yeah of course” he said nodding his head and smiling

“Tonight” I then responded

“Tonight?” He said surprised

“Yes. I think I’m ready for tonight” I told him

“Okay. Then tonight it is” he said leaning over and kissing me

Matt and I had been making out for a good five minutes

“Are you doing okay?” He asked looking into my eyes

“Yes Matt I’m doing great” I said giving him a smile

Matt had kissed down to my neck. Leaving light kisses that were making me burn up inside. He had removed his shirt, and I removed mine as well

“Can I take your bra off?” He asked me leaning back a little bit

“Of course” I said shyly

Matt reaches behind as I lift up, so that he could unclip my bra. Slowly pulling it off of me, and allowing my breast to fall exposed

I started to blush. Never allowing a man to see me this way causing me to get a little shy

“Don’t get shy on me baby. You look perfect” he said giving me a sly smile

Matt had started to kiss my neck, and slowly went down to my breast. Massaging both breast before taking one into his mouth

“Oh Matt” I said in a whisper as my eyes fluttered shut

He then went down to the valley of my breast, and started to kiss down leaving sloppy kisses on my stomach. I was aching for his touch.

He kissed both hip bones before looking up at me

“Can I take your pants off?” He asked, and I nodded

He started to take my pants off as I lifted up a little for him to get them fully off. Matt in return removed his sweat pants as well

He went back to kissing above my underwear. This feeling alone left my hair rising and my thigh quivering

Matt laid next to me, and started to kiss me soon breaking away

“Okay baby. I have to stretch you out” he said. I turned my head towards him and agreed

Slowly he trailed his hand down to my underwear. Slightly dipping his hand in to massage my pelvic area before completely sticking his hand down my underwear

“Open wider baby” he told me, and I allowed my legs to open up more for him

“Perfect” he said, kissing me, and then he slid his hand all the way down coating his fingers in my arousal before bringing them back up to massage my clit

I just gasped and opened my mouth as Matt and I kept looking at each other

“Feeling okay?” He asked

“I feel so good Matt” I told him licking my now dry lips

Math started to rub my clit in circular motions. Allowing me to squirm and moan at this foreign feeling.

“Okay baby this may hurt” he said before sinking his middle finger to my entrance. He was looking into my eyes as he slowly started to insert his finger into me

This was a burning stretch I’ve never felt before, causing my eyes to shut and my brows to furrow

“Ow Matt” I said finally opening my eyes

“Too much? I can stop” he said reading my face

“No no keep going” I told him, and so he did. He slowly started to rock his fingers in and out curving them up to hit my G spot

“Oh fuck” I moaned out

“That feels so fucking good” I said as he started to rub my clit with his thumb

Slowly he inserted his ring finger. This burn was something that almost made me stop him, but I wanted this way too much for him to stop now.

Once he got the second finger in he started to pump in and out at a come here motion

“Oh Matt….ive never felt something like this” I told him as my mouth fell open

“Does it feel good?” He asked

“So so good” I said whispering the last part

He was slowly fingering me for 5 more minutes before he decided to stop

“Do you think you’re ready?” He asked me

“I think so” I told him, Matt removed his underwear and my mouth fell open

“Matt….I don’t know that that will fit in me” I said almost laughing

“Baby don’t boost my ego. It will fit” he said blushing and biting his lip

“This will hurt, so I’m going to go slow, and if it’s too much I’ll stop” he said

“Okay thank you” I whispered to him

Matt had both arms on either side of my head and was looking into my eyes

“Ready?” He asked one more time

“Yes Matt I’m very ready” I told him

Matt grabbed his dick with his right hand and slowly started to push the tip in. Looking up at you to read your face. He slowly started to push the tip in, and as he started to get in is when you winced

“Fuck Matt that hurts” I said gripping his left arm with my right hand

“Want me to stop?” He asked

“No no keep going” I told him

He slowly started to insert himself into me. Paying close attention to my face. Soon he was all the way in, and he let out a sigh

“So perfect,” he said, moving my hair out of my face. Matt was allowing my vaginal walls to relax around him before moving

“You can move” I told him, and so he did. Slowly sliding back and then in. My pussy was still stretching and burning around his dick

He was letting out little moans that were making me so wet.

Slowly Matt started to pick up his pace. Sliding in and out of me in such a delicious way

“Fuck Matt you can go a little faster” I told him

Matt started to thrust into me a little faster and I was completely losing my mind. If sex felt this good, why was I waiting this long?

“Matt this feels so good” I said moaning

“You feel so fucking good around me” he said moaning the last part

Matt had gotten a little more on his knees, and allowed his arms to bend. Coming down closer to me our chests were touching, and his head was right next to my ear

I could hear his pants into my ear as he was thrusting into me

“Fuck Matt you sound hot” I told him pulling his hair at the back of his head

“Yeah?” He said in a breathy tone

“Yes…so so hot” I said as I continued to pull at his hair

Matt continued to thrust into me becoming a sweaty and groaning mess above me

“I’m going to start rubbing your clit, and you’ll be able to cum in no time” he told me before snaking his right hand down to my clit starting to rub

“OH MY GOD” I screamed out at the intense sensation I was feeling

“Too much?” He asked looking at me

“No no just right keep going. Fuck Matt I think I’m going to cum” I told him as I started to clench on his cock causing him to moan

Matt was fucking into me at a good pace and rubbing my clit, going in between slow and fast circular motions

“Matt Matt Matt” I said scratching his back and clenching down on him harder

“Come on baby! You can do it for me” he said rubbing his fingers faster

“I’m going to cum. Fuck fuck fuck” I said shutting my eyes and throwing my head back even more

“Come on. Come on give it to me” he said into my ear

“FUCKKKKK MATTT” I screamed out as I started to convulse and tremble. My orgasm completely washing over me. I was seeing white and my legs were shaking as I was cumming so hard. Slowly I started to come down my from my high with heavy breathing and dry lips

Matt pulled out of me when I stopped twitching around him. I felt weird without his dick in me. He started to pump his cock

“Fuck I’m gonna cum” he said kissing my lips

He pulled away and his lower abdomen started to contract as his mouth fell and his brows furrowed. He looked into my eyes as he came all over his hand and my lower stomach. Slowly coming down from his high and rolling onto his back next to me

“Matt that was amazing” I said looking over at him

“Was it? You don’t have to lie” he said catching his breath

“No matt. It was amazing, and you were so careful with me I appreciate it” I said rolling over to my side and kissing him on the cheek

“Anything for my pretty lady. I love you” he said looking over at me

“I love you too Matt” I said smiling at him

“Let’s get you cleaned up. Follow me let’s shower” he said and grabbed my hands

When I got off the bed my legs completely gave out on me and I almost fell to the ground

“Oh my god Matt…my legs are fucking jello” I said laughing as he grabbed me and helped me walk to his bathroom

“I’m sorry baby” he said also laughing

“I can now say Matt Sturniolo has made me weak in the knees physically” I responded laughing

“Shut up” he said all shyly as he turned on the hot water and let me step in first

We had showered together, and then spent the night watching movies until we eventually fell asleep in each other's arms.

The End

I hope you guys enjoyed this one! And for the two people that requested this I hope I didn’t disappoint, and I’m so sorry it took forever for me to get this out 🥹❤️❤️

-J💅🏽

[emmyspov]

Prioritise yourself (Thranduil x Reader)

author's note: happy easter to everyone who celebrates it and a happy weekend to all either way🪻this is honestly one of the most scary things i've posted because it's something so personal that i relate to a lot, but i thought maybe someone else might need it, too🥺 please always remember that nothing will ever be more important than your health and well-being 🩷

warnings: symptoms of burnout, lack of sleep, exhaustion, negative self-talk, skipping meals, mentions of food, nudity (for taking a bath together) - please please please let me know if I forgot something! 🩷

word count: 1.9k

edit is mine, all pics are from pinterest :)

It had seemed like a smart idea when you offered Thranduil to help him with all the paperwork.

His days were filled with meetings and more often than not he only returned to your chambers once it was dark already.

So, for the past few months, you had been - more or less secretly - helping him with whatever you could: sending out invitations to other royals, filing away documents, re-writing contracts so all that would be left to do was sign them.

You were the king's partner after all and you wanted to help him as much as possible. This was your kingdom, your home, as much as it was his, as he regularly reminded you.

Thranduil noticed, obviously. The hours in his study were reduced since most things were taken care of in a perfect way already - he could return to your private rooms right after dinner and spend time with you instead which the Elvenking appreciated immensely.

However, over the past few weeks, things have taken a turn. And Thranduil noticed that, too.

How, on some days, you would get up earlier than him, how you would skip lunch and dinner with him - although it was one of your favorite things since you got to spend it with one another during your otherwise busy schedules - and instead eat by yourself, hunched over some papers. He noticed your tired eyes and dull skin and- lack happiness, to cut it short.

Worry didn't even remotely describe what he was feeling. He felt sick to his stomach when he thought about you being unhappy.

Today was no different.

You had gotten up before sunrise, leaving your husband a little love letter, before entering your own study to take care of all official things.

There was a lot to do. Other elves as much as people from Laketown and even dwarves were sending letters, hoping to schedule a meeting with the king himself to talk over whatever was bothering them.

You made it your mission to answer every single one of them, noting down appointments and also sending out excuses if Thranduil wasn't the right one to talk to when it came to certain matters.

By the end of the day, your head was pounding. You let out a yawn and rubbed your eyes, hoping to relieve some of the pressure behind them, but to no use.

Closing them for only a minute wouldn't hurt. You could still look for your husband afterwards.

A line had been crossed for the Elvenking.

It was the second day in a row that you skipped your shared meals and from what he just learned, you weren't eating them at all.

He needed to talk to you. He wouldn’t - and couldn’t - let you destroy yourself over some work. Your happiness and well being came first and he would make you realise that, no matter the cost.

After reaching your study and receiving no answer to his knocks, he let himself in with determined steps, only to stop abruptly as soon as he saw your sleeping figure. His eyes softened immediately.

"Oh, meleth."

With two big steps, he was by your side, crouching down until he was on eye level with you. Even in your sleep, you looked stressed, your eyebrows scrunched up, reminding him of the times you woke up from a bad dream.

"What are you doing to yourself, hm?"

Gentle, as if you would break like glass if he touched you with too much force, he picked you up and carried you out of the room and into your shared bed chamber where he set you down on the soft mattress and covered you with a fluffy blanket.

Thranduil left the room again for only a few moments so he could blow out the candle in your study and put everything where it belonged. He himself hated to work at a messy desk and didn't want you to deal with the same thing once you would return to work, although he didn't want to think about that yet. For now, you needed rest and all the love and care you could get.

He returned to your bedroom after he spoke to some of his subordinates to let them know neither he nor you would be available in the next three days.

You were still fast asleep, curled up into the blanket. The king walked over to you and slowly began to remove all your uncomfortable clothing before he himself put on a night gown.

Only then did he lay down next to you, carefully maneuvering your body into his arms, your head on his chest. Even in your sleep you wrapped your arm around his waist and entangled your legs, letting out a small sigh.

"Sleep, meleth, you've been working too hard", your husband whispered and brought his delicate fingertips up to brush some hair out of your face before letting them trail down to your back, rubbing some calming circles into your shoulder. "I'll watch over you, I promise."

And Thranduil kept his word.

He stayed up to make sure you slept through the night, occasionally pressing a kiss to your temple or the top of your head while his fingers were always touching you in some way.

It was nearly lunch time when you woke up the next day.

After noticing you were still cuddled up with your husband although the sun was already shining into the room, you immediately sat up.

"I- I overslept, oh Varda, there is so much to do. Why didn’t you wake me, my love?"

With a gentle force, Thranduil pressed you back onto the mattress.

"You've been overworking yourself for weeks and your health and happiness are suffering in return. I told everyone we wouldn't be available for the next few days. For the foreseeable future, we'll only take care of you."

You didn't want to cry. And you tried really hard to keep the tears at bay, but when the Elvenking looked at you with so much love in his eyes, you couldn’t stop them.

"I'm sorry for failing you, my king."

The elf wrapped his arms around you and pulled you close. "Oh meleth, no. No, you didn't fail me, you never have. And you never will."

"I can't even take care of myself", you hiccuped, burying your face in the crook of his neck. "It's like the work and the pressure never stop and I'll never be good enough and now I am sitting here, crying to you, a literal king who has way more responsibility than me. I am so sorry to burden you with this."

Thranduil's heart was breaking. He couldn't believe this was how you saw yourself when, to him, you were the most beautiful being in all of Middle Earth.

"You are never a burden to me. Do you hear me? Never. We can fix this. You have to learn how to prioritise yourself. I can teach you. I will teach you. And we will start right now. You must be hungry, what do you want to eat?"

You fumbled around with your hands before looking up at the Elvenking. "Could I have some pancakes?"

Thranduil leaned forward to press a kiss against your nose. "Whatever you want, meleth nîn."

With one swift motion, he got up, put on one of his majestic robes and made his way to the kitchen to order your beloved pancakes and some additional treats as well as some hot and cold beverages.

He returned to your chambers with a first tray of food, watching your face lit up with delight at the sweet smell.

"Here you go, my love. Eat as much as you want and take all the time you need. There are no other things that need to get done today or the next few days."

You nodded and grabbed a plate, happily munching on the food the servants were bringing in over time.

The king was watching you carefully while he himself ate something. It was more than obvious that all the food was good for your mind, body and soul.

You let yourself fall back against the sheets when you were done, letting out a satisfied sigh. "That was good."

"It is about to get better. What do you think of a bath?"

Your eyes lit up. "Right now?"

The elf couldn't help but let out a soft chuckle. "Is that what you want?"

You sat up, enthusiastically bouncing on the mattress and nodding your head. "Yes, please!"

Thranduil stood up again and walked into the bathroom, filling the tub with hot water and your favourite bath salts and flower petals before coming back to you.

With ease, he wrapped his arms around you and lifted you off the bed, carrying you into the bathroom.

"Arms up", he ordered gently and removed your clothing, doing the same to himself afterwards.

"You're so handsome", you breathed out as you softly pressed your hand against his chest, right above his heart. "I'm so lucky to have you."

Thranduil's heart started to beat faster under your touch and praise and you smiled, feeling butterflies in your stomach at the fact that you still had this effect on him.

He lifted you into the tub, setting you down and lowering himself behind you, pulling your body flush against his chest.

"I'm the lucky one."

You shook your head before letting it fall back against his shoulder. "You take care of me when I can't do it myself."

The king's deft fingers brushed through your hair, letting them trail down your arm. "We take care of each other. You are the one who decreased my work load so I'd have more time."

You intertwined your hands. "Well, of course. I want you to be well."

A kiss was pressed against the top of your head. "Do you see my point?"

You nodded. "I think I do."

Thranduil let his thumb brush over the back of your hand. "Tomorrow, we can take a walk in the garden and look at all the blossoming flowers. Or we can do whatever else will make you happy."

A smile graced your lips. "Just being with you makes me happy."

Gently, the ellon grabbed your chin and turned your head around so he could kiss you. You melted into his embrace, smiling against his lips.

"Gi melin", he whispered after you two had parted for air and you replied with the same sentiment.

Once you two had soaked in the water for a while, the Elvenking grabbed your shampoo and lathered up his hands before bringing them up to your scalp to work in the product.

The more time you spend like this with your husband - in your little bubble of happiness and safety - the lighter your heart felt.

And it only got better when Thranduil's hands wandered down your head to your neck and shoulders, massaging your tense muscles to help you relax even further.

You shuddered and the king grinned to himself. He was just as pleased as you were earlier that his touch could, still, make you weak in the knees.

"Rest, meleth", he whispered as he continued to work on your upper back. "There will be time to talk about long-term adjustments and solutions, but for now, you can let yourself fall. I'll be there to catch you."

Everything-Taglist: @shadowhuntyi @asgardianhobbit98 @fizzyxcustard

-> if you want to be added or removed from my taglist, just shoot me a message or an ask 🩷

[meanbossart]

Ask compilation: I'm Starting To Think That This Drow Guy Is Kind Of An Asshole Edition.

Probably a Ranger in the hunter subclass. I actually intended to multi-class him as fighter/ranger at some point and make that his official class, but I haven't had time/quite figured out the best build that would still suit him - Ranger makes a LOT of sense with his backstory, arguably more than fighter, but he's still supposed to be a magic-less brick-house with 19 strength who hasn't handled a bow and arrow in 10 years, so I'm not sure where that leaves us LOL

A lot of people have suggested that Berserk Barbarian would fit him well, but I think that implies a lot of other characteristics that do NOT suit him at all so 🤷

HE DIDN'T EVEN GO TO THE CRECHE, and honestly it made the game feel much more immersive to pick one path and stick to it like Halsin suggested, even if I did have to endure the shadow cursed lands without the shiny mace 😂

Probably for the best, it'd be a real shame if the story ended there just because he didn't like Vlaakith's attitude.

But yeah Lae'zel (who, for the record, I adore) never stood a chance in his playthrough. Sorry baby girl.

I'm either uninformed or we have different definitions of what constitutes a crush, but sure I'll play in this space LOL

He's both jealous but also kind of aloof when it comes to things like that. It's yet another symptom of his arrogance, where it seems unfathomable that anyone who has him would be genuinely tempted by someone else. He doesn't mind a normal amount of glance-stealing and flattery, even playful flirting to a degree, but if there's persistence or if his partner seems to seek another person out for things he thinks he should be providing, he feels threatened.

Also, he has a difficult time discerning that "deep emotional connection" does not equal "romantic interest". So, at least immediately after the events of the game, he's more likely to be made insecure by his partners forming deep bonds with others than any throwaway expression of physical desire or fleeting infatuation.

[MORE UNDER THE CUT]

Let me preface this with the (hopefully unnecessary) disclaimer that this murderous dark-elf's opinions are not my own, and that I very much purposefully made a bit of an asshole character because I find that entertaining.

And now that you're hopefully primed for what's coming - DU drow is pretty damn judgemental of people's looks save for the rare times when they give him a good impression right off the bat. He notes people's appearances and makes preemptive assumptions about them without even realizing it. He definitely does not equal beauty to value or prowess (in fact he will very much still mock of you if you seem too concerned with your appearance) but he does prescribe things based on looks.

I don't think he'd take issue with what you're describing, It sounds like a pretty average body, but he would assume that person is weaker and less fit to "keep up with him", basically. Which kind of diminishes interest.

As far as to what he finds immediately attractive, he definitely prefers people who seem physically fit (not more than himself though - gods forbid). But, the caveat to this whole tangent is that once you get past initial impressions, he could definitely come to be sexually attracted to pretty much any type of body attached to the person he's in love with.

Thank you! There was no main event, just the building up of resentment over time and the opportunity she saw opening up when the Chosen's plan came into motion. She definitely didn't always hate him though, they had a fairly close relationship until his obsessive behavior and arrogance became an issue.

Thank you!!!

They call him the/that drow, dark elf, or "big drow" if there's more than one present. In private they might facetiously call him Bhaalspawn if they get tired of referring to him by race.

I'll be honest, I forgot whether or not I found it in his playthrough LOL but if he did stumble across that would be VERY funny. He'd be like "look at these idiots and their fake murder god. What kind of dimwit would worship carnage as a religion. Hey Shadowheart get a load of this-"

HAPPY YOU ENJOY HIM! I think his unique situation overall with having been such a overwhelmingly horrid person and forgetting all about it is my favorite bit. That's kind of vague, I know, but I often think of dreams I've had where I committed a crime or did something horrible, and that immediate feeling of relief and disconnect that follows immediately after waking up. That's kind of what I imagine it's like for him - he knows of the things he did, but he doesn't really. In theory it's all true but that's a truth far too fantastical for anyone to conceptualize even if it's put right in front of your face.

That, tackling the guilt (or lack thereof) of something you genuinely don't feel like you've done and the intricacies of it, that's a fascinating state of mind to explore. I love how many directions you can take that.

For me, having a character who is not good, but is not necessarily pure unadulterated evil, makes for a lot of complex thought experiments and contradictory values. DU drow has a lot of those - things he believes and abides by absolutely except for this specific instance, being contradictory is a pillar of his character and it can be a little challenging to keep up with it - but I'd be lying if I said I don't deeply enjoy that aspect as well all the same.

THANK YOUUUU It took me so long to figure out how to draw Astarion in a way I liked, I'm so relieved that others enjoy it too 😂

Shockingly he did succeed it and was immediately put-off by it, lmao. They wouldn't really develop much of a relationship for a while after that, so at that point DU drow just figured he was trying to get something from him and wrote him off, much as he did with everyone else with the exception of Shadowheart.

He didn't meet her at the Tiefling grove! I didn't even know you could meet her before-hand for the longest time. But he did super, duper kill her at camp of course.

He managed to hide the body and everyone else was none the wiser, huge blood bhaal-sigil on the ground aside lmao. He was a little shocked but didn't feel all that bad about it, kind of resigning to that primal feeling of satisfaction at a job-well-done that overwhelmed him instead. He decided she was too weak to survive out there and he had just spared her the trouble.

[groovyfrog420]

SV Redeemed AU

INTRODUCTION / DISCLAIMER

First things first, these designs for Shadow Milk and Pure Vanilla are FAR into the future. Quite literally end game phase of the story, the “they grow old together and live happily ever after”. There's a long way to get there, and while I will write some of my thoughts about their journey, I'm a shitty writer. There's no single thought-out plot, it's just bits and pieces of my thoughts in one place. 

I don't think I'd be making a tag or naming this AU anything specific. I'm still calling it an AU because there is a bit of canon divergence, but I don’t have a start-to-finish story. (EDIT: wellp that lasted long. new name is #False-Truth AU because I like the oxymoron. I still don't think I'll do much - maybe a few short comics, which you'll be able to find under that tag on my profile)

Keep in mind that these are just my own interpretations, if you imagine these cookies acting differently, that's ok! This is just my own made-up alternate version

LONG POST UNDER THE CUT - don't say I didn't warn ya

I’ve tried to divide it into sections, so if you are looking for just smth specific / only care about one of the characters, you can skip right to it!

Prepare for the ramblings. 

PURE VANILLA'S DESIGN 

more relaxed now - doesn’t need to keep up perfect appearances and the image of a hero, so he can lay back a bit more. (messier, less perfectly styled hair - more like his younger years. comfier clothes.) 

focusing on herbology - with less power now (why explained below) and trying to not overwork himself, he’s taken to different healing methods, as well as taking on gardening as a hobby

slightly more open eyes - (heavily elaborated on bellow) 

different staff - due to being able to use his own eyes more now, as well as staying more on the low, he’d decided to retire the famous staff. Since it’s a flower, it was planted somewhere and allowed to blossom and grow freely - fitting symbolism for a new beginning, I think. The lantern light glowing blue makes it easier on his eyes.

PV STORY BITS 

In this AU Shadow Milk and Pure Vanilla retire together. I think PV would still like to teach, but would focus more on the medical and practical side of things, like herbs and healing practices. (He’ll leave telling tales about the past  to Shadow Milk, though he might throw in his own comments from time to time…) He mostly offers advice and shares every-day methods for protection of different kinds with those who ask, but may take on an apprentice or few to fully pass down his healing knowledge to. He uses magic sparingly now. 

This way with not focusing on a variety of subjects and many, many students, he’s able to rest more and doesn’t have to split himself between multiple worries. He can focus properly and give his students more individual attention, to make sure his knowledge will be retained for the future. 

Eyes

(don't jump me pls read the footnote) 

I've decided to take the closed/covered eyes motif PV has in a bit more symbolic way *. I want to interpret it as PV being blind (=ignorant) to the world around him, choosing to see the world and his own actions in an idealized light, and to look away from anything that doesn't fit that idea. Light sensitivity would be very ironic yet fitting - since his own powers are very light-based, by using them to help others he’d be blindinding/hurting himself in the process... 

Over time, he realizes how futile it is. Even if he turns his eyes away from the wrongdoing in the world, from his own mistakes and imperfections, they will still continue to happen. He begins to understand that he has to accept that neither he nor the world is perfect, to stop wallowing over the past and start fixing the present. To keep moving forward and keep working on himself, not hide his imperfections under literal and figurative wraps. 

With the help of Shadow Milk, he begins to open his eyes more and more and accept the real truth, no matter how imperfect it is. 

*I’m not sure how confirmed it was in canon that he’s blind (from what I’ve seen it was mostly implied, but still). I'm not erasing that - for the sake of this AU, I'd like to say that he has partial issues with sight (including the mentioned light sensitivity), but now he learns to accommodate them rather than ignore them and hurt himself more for the sake of others. No, he doesn't magically gain full sight now, but he's more comfortable, healthier, and more honest about the world around him with all of its imperfections. 

Burnout

I believe SM and PV complete each other so perfectly because they can help each other grow in areas where the other is lacking/struggling. With PV, I’d like to focus on burnout, false ideas, and how the pressure he’s constantly under has affected him. He was very much just a normal guy before receiving his Soul Jam. Years beyond a normal cookie’s lifespan of hard work and trying to be the perfect leader, to always ensure the happiness of all his people (whether that be as king or otherwise) are bound to take a toll on anyone. Obviously he'd never admit that, always putting everyone else before his own needs, and he’d likely run himself into the grave. That's where I think Shadow Milk would be helpful - he’d make him realize how unsustainable what he’s doing really is. He wasn’t built for handling immense power for all of eternity, he’s just a single cookie and whether he likes it or not, he can’t save everyone or make every single one of his people happy... Being selfish isn’t entirely wrong, sometimes might even be necessary. 

Onto the idea of false truth - Pure Vanilla has a very idealized view of a lot of things and people. He’s trying to see everyone in the best light, but he also holds a high standard for himself - that he must be the ideal, shining and caring hero and a beacon of perfection . Shadow Milk is likely to pick that image apart - probably not in the kindest way, saying that in trying to be perfectly selfless, PV is putting himself on the pedestal above everyone else while still being just a single cookie with limited capabilities. He’d likely call this image egoistical, and while PV would argue that he’s doing it for the good of others (he is helping after all, right?), Shadow Milk wouldn’t be entirely wrong - this way of thinking, that he’s the one who must take care of everyone else, is harmful for both him and the ones he’s trying to protect. 

Shadow Milk would show him that truth is relative, that “pure truth” doesn’t exist, for anyone could interpret it differently. That PV isn’t (and doesn't have to be) the perfect blameless hero. That his people aren’t as good or pure as he’d like to give them credit for, but neither are they helpless. 

Shadow Milk metaphorically and literally helps him open his eyes - he slowly learns to lay back, to accept the reality and “truth”, whatever it may be, and is no longer blinding and burning himself out by trying to help everyone at once. With a new mindset and outlook of the world, he can allow himself to retire, and leave a calmer, out-of-the-spotlight life. 

Retirement

Ok, controversial idea, but I think the ancients will have to one day retire and pass down their SoulJams. Yes, I played Cookie Odyssey, I know how important it is to them, but hear me out. As I said above (which is shown in the game btw, but correct me if I'm wrong), they were just normal cookies before taking on the roles of the Ancient Heros. Cookies with high achievements, yes, but still. They aren’t The Beasts, baked specifically for the purpose of handling the Soul Jams, and even then, The Beasts weren’t perfect. I’m not saying they’re bound to get corrupted like their predecessors did, but I am saying that this role is bound to take a toll on them. Not even just from the perspective of power, even just handling so many responsibilities with running their kingdoms is going to be extremely draining mentally. (Physically likely too, even if they’re said to stay “always young” thanks to the Soul Jams - many stories teach that you can’t mess with nature and that nothing lasts forever...)

I don’t know who they’d pass the Soul Jams along too - whether that’d be Gingerbrave and his friends, or a new batch of heroes, that is to be decided. The point is, they have served their purpose, they have (from the perspective of this AU) defeated Dark Enchantress, and deserve to now leave the rest of  their lives in peace.

SHADOW MILK'S DESIGN 

“mellowed out” a bit - continues to be eccentric and dramatic, but less manic

still unsettling - most level-headed cookies upon meeting him immediately get a feeling that there's something.. off about him, even if they can't put their finger on it. (I purposefully left some of his corrupted design elements or callbacks to them, like the marking over his eye, for that reason) 

vibrant, colorful, very extra in both behavior and looks, everything he does he does with drama and flourish 

quiets down when out of the eyes of the public, or alone with Pure Vanilla 

peacock elements - fitting for someone with such a vibrant personality. also the eye connection is perfect - if you look closely at the feather he's wearing, you might even notice a familiar symbol in its “eye”

a playful bard - (elaborated heavily bellow) - an identity allows him to enjoy his favorite activities, while also being a slight callback to his academic past 

SM STORY BITS

The bard 

While spending more time with Pure Vanilla, PV encouraged him to pursue his creative interests. Partly to have smth to get SM’s mind off of causing chaos, and partly because they let him indulge and express himself without causing any serious damage. Now he’s joined PV in retirement, though still not fully stepping down from the stage.

Being a bard allows Shadow Milk to indulge in everything he likes most: being the center of attention, dramatics, theatrics, mischief, a tasteful dose of lies and half-truths, but also, in a way, calling back to his past self: for while a lot of his stories are made-up tales, he can also share the history of Earthbread that he’s witnessed. Yes, he may do so through over-dramatic performances or behind caricatural characters, but every tale holds a grain of truth, does it not? Whether his audience chooses to believe him or not is their choice to make.

Referencing the fact that a big part of human history survived through word of mouth, and how storytellers play an important role in preserving it, I think it’s only fitting to make him a bard.

About visual choices

I made his redeemed design less chaotic and asymmetrical, but still vibrant and based mostly on his current color palette, rather than the one from Blueberry Academy. That's because while he may be rediscovering his interests from the past, he’s not the person he was before corruption and never will be again. Instead, he too is learning to rediscover the world in a new light, with a new identity. 

Visually I’ve tried to keep some elements from his current design, if slightly toned down: a wide collar, puffy sleeves, a flowy cape. Elements of his corruption are also still there: different colored sclera (= his one eye being black), the sharp teeth. He may have settled down and calmed down slightly, but he remains as playful as ever :)) 

He still causes local chaos once in a while or resorts to pranking unsuspecting cookies nearby (the slight charring at the bottom of PV’s robe is a result of one of such pranks getting out of hand), and PV has accepted that he'll never be a calm, put-together cookie he once might have been. However, SM's learned to not be a danger to others for the sake of the one he cares about the most, and that's enough for the both of them. 

And that's all for now! If you've managed to get this far, thank you SO much for your patience, I hope you've enjoyed my thoughts and brainworms <3

[cantareincminor]

Fandom Wrapped (Reader Edition) 2024!

Thanks to the wonderful @kattyelf for creating this template! Links and detailed reviews under the cut.

Disclaimer: I probably read hundreds of SxF fics in the past year, and it was not easy to choose which ones to put in the list above (or below)! This fandom is full of wonderful, friendly creators and I am so glad to be part of it. I also had to narrow it down to only the ones I read and reread in 2024, not 2022 or 2023. Finally...I also happened to read many good fics only once. Sometimes a fic is just too painful or sad to reread, especially if it's not finished.

Favorite fic and author: After peace by @unhappy-sometimes!

I could gush about unso for a whole post and not be done, but I will try to contain myself. Her fic After peace originated from an AU comic she drew where Twilight was forced to retire early due a major injury, and drifted aimlessly until WISE asked him to take care of an orphan they had rescued from Project Apple. There are several things that amazed me about this fic and cemented it in first place for 2024:

The premise. It was original and so full of potential.

How personal Twilight's journey felt to me. I didn't have a life-threatening injury, but I did put my career on hiatus in the past year and have often struggled with questions of -- what am I worth when I'm not "doing" anything? I was so used to going 150% in the rat race and coming out on top at great personal cost to health and family; even if all that was bad, how else can I get that sense of accomplishment? How can I stop wanting that sense of accomplishment?

Her style, which is both vivid AND concise. The fic was around 22K words if I remember correctly, with a well-constructed plot, character arcs, plenty of emotional beats, and a satisfying resolution. I often wonder if my writing is too verbose and when I see something like After peace, it challenges me to do better.

THIS WAS UNSO'S FIRST FIC EVER. THE HELL. It's like a freshman album that gets put up for a Grammy.

Fic(s) I reread (plus runners-up):

That Time Yor Seriously Thought About Leaving by peonydee: This is a WIP with one more chapter before completion, I believe. Peonydee's style is unique in how it's hard-hitting and disarming at the same time. Yor and Twilight find themselves in impossible situations, their relationship tested to the limit (and one of them in a close brush with death), yet there's still an undercurrent of wry humor, almost fatalistic due to the fact both of them have been steeped in death and dirty work for decades, yet still hopeful and reaching for each other. I also cackle every time she makes Twilight go off on a mansplaining tangent without ever using the term outright. A masterpiece of show not tell.

Is It Really All Right? by zyzy1083: This one is tender. A jealous!Loid fic with a fascinating portrayal of Loid from Yor's perspective. The imagery of a dark sea choking down any true thought or emotion from breaking for air will stay with me for a long time. There's also the fact she basically made up lyrics for an indie song as part of the plot and I had to ask whether it was a real song. Finally, there's the fact she was bold enough to portray Loid as less than a perfect, kind, smiley husband toward Yor, but in a believable way. He snaps at Yor at times. He loses his patience. It feels like a real relationship, in the awkward tension when one partner wants to talk and the other absolutely does not want to talk. I admire that courage and wish more authors would take that risk (calling myself out I guess!).

Green-eyed Monster by bigbruja: another jealous!Loid fic that's lighthearted and fun. This is a comfort reread. I enjoy seeing Loid recognize the threat of a supposed "old friend" of Yor's, questioning his own feelings and how far he needs to go to fend this guy off. The guy is a Garden assassin, unbeknownst to him. I also love Yor's own inner struggle of just wanting everyone to get along, but showing steel when she needs to.

dalliance by rosetintednerdglasses: this is a WIP, but it is HILARIOUS and I hope everyone will go encourage this author to pick this fic back up when they have a chance. TLDR, Twilight (in disguise) is sent on a joint mission with Thorn Princess and flips out internally when he sees it's Yor. Handler then orders him to ensure Thorn Princess continues to cooperate. So as Twilight, he has to sort-of honey trap Thorn Princess, while as Loid he has to keep Yor happy. Poor Yor believes she's torn between two different men and close to cheating on Loid! Situational hilarity all over the place, and fun world-building, like this other WISE agent randomly named "Steel Bunny" (LOL).

Not According to Plan by @kyrathel: love you girl! This is a gift fic for me, but that's not the reason I reread it (even though it's a WIP as well!). It's SO FUNNY. Twilight gets it in his overly anxious head that he MUST defend his wife from the bullies at City Hall, so what does he do? HE INFILTRATES CITY HALL AS A NEW FEMALE HIRE. The world absolutely needs more petty!Twilight! The latest chapter features laxative brownies. Enough said.

Let's start living dangerously by @beannoss: I specifically reread the later parts when dumb Twilight gets over his dumbness and finally talks to Yor! And they kiss again! I love the way huhwaku (beannoss) portrays overthinking Twilight AND overthinking Yor. And also, the simplicity of Yor at the same time. The voice she uses for both of them is refreshing, it really puts you in the mindset of the character. Yor's giggles ("teehee!") as she teases Twilight about his little perfectionist habits are a cute touch to a gentle, heartwarming fic about these two highly competent professionals just starting to take baby steps in how to be competent at a relationship.

Fic that made me emotional:

100% Perfect by @sometimesiship. Where do I begin? How about with the gut aversion I initially had to the premise of a futuristic AI dating bot AU, due to all the tragic, dark AI movies I have watched? But as it neared completion, someone convinced me to give it a try and I AM SO GLAD I DID. You can see my gushing comments in almost every chapter. The development of the relationship between human Yor and AI Loid is so natural, funny at times, poignant always, and beautifully written, even though from an objective standpoint not much exciting stuff happens (I mean canon-typical excitement like murders and spy missions). Sometimesiship has a way of describing emotion that is so raw -- she can portray the same emotion a dozen different ways with analogies and setups and dialogue and whatever -- and it still doesn't feel old. And the emotion that dominated the second half of the story was grief. Basically the grief of loving someone you know you're going to lose. Like being the spouse of a terminal cancer patient. I didn't cry while reading, but it was a closer call than I have had in a VERY long time. So much beauty and humanity in this story. And spoiler (?), it's a happy ending. So I hope you all go check it out!

That's a wrap! If you read this far, stay tuned for a Writer version of Fandom Wrapped 2024!

[minervamagicka]

[SSO Conversion] Sheepskin Pad

For the SSO Dressage Saddle only!

Can't stress this enough, it will ONLY fit that saddle as it was designed to do so, even in SSO! That being said, versions to fit the Realistic & the EA Fit versions of said saddle are included :>

...Anyhow, an addon! This is a Saddlepad Overlay, meaning it will replace the default white pad on the SSO Dressage Saddle, but it will also add a little 3d sheepskin pad to it that I meshed based on the SSO textures to make it a bit more 3D. The swatches (~7) all come directly from SSO!

DL, info, etc. under the cut!

By myself & Schrodcat @ DA 🖤

Choosing a Version

Note: If you've already read this from the SSO Dressage Saddle you can safely skip! You should just grab the count version that matches whatever you installed for the Dressage Saddle.

First things first; in the download folder there are two different .rar files to choose from. One is labelled Highpoly and the other is labelled Maxispoly. YOU MUST CHOOSE ONE. THEY WILL OVERRIDE EACHOTHER IF YOU INSTALL BOTH HIGHPOLY AND MAXISPOLY TOGETHER.

The Highpoly version of the saddles is based on the original mesh resolution of SSO (Clocking in at ~4500 polys on LOD0 )which is why we have labelled this version as Highpoly. We offer it primarily for simmers who plan to be taking screenshots vs actually playing the game for extended periods of time, or for those with stronger PCs.

The Maxispoly version of the saddle is a decimated version of the mesh intended to be more in-line with Maxis polycounts, and therefore be more performance-friendly. It's about 50% less dense in polys than the Highpoly counterpart (LOD0 on the Maxispoly clocks in at ~2,339 polys), however it is still higher-poly other EA meshes. YMMV!

Custom Thumbnails appear as follows, with the version made to fit the EA-specific Dressage Saddle labelled as such! If you try to use the Realistic one with the EA saddle and vice-versa, the halfpad WILL look wonky!

Terms of Use

Credit/link to me AND Schrodcat AND note it is a conversion from SSO if you intend to edit, replicate or otherwise use this .package, meshes & textures as a base for your own derivative work. Additionally, at this time, we both ask you do not backport this model or its' textures to TS3.

Do not sell or post behind a paywall, even a timed one. This tumblr is anti-paywall to the extreme. This includes any content that might be created under Rule One. Do not do this. I will think you are an asshole. I have had issues with this in the past and my tolerance for it is absolutely zero. Additionally this asset is exported from a copyrighted game with the intention of it being used transformatively for derivative fanworks; it may be actually illegal to profit from it!

Do not reupload. If you let me know if there's an issue with SFS, I'll reupload it myself. Please link to this post or to the .package on SFS when sharing.

Credits: SSO for the textures; Schrodcat with fitting the meshes & testing/screenshots, me with meshing the 3d halfpad using the SSO textures for reference & for putting it all together into one diabolical package.

Download [SFS]

☕ Buy me a coffee!

☕ Buy SchrodCat a coffee!

[strangererotica]

EXPLICIT CONTENT | MINORS DNI

Reader is female • Y/N is Billie in this story; Josef uses the alias John • Christian/Catholic imagery mentioned, as well as cancer/death • dry humping, breast worship, coming in clothes, some aggression/biting, squirting, Josef lying/manipulating but he’s hella cute doing it… 😊 🥳 happy new year 2025!

You never did anything like this. It was fucking insane. Risky at the very least, and at the worst, potentially deadly. Yes you were strapped for cash, but responding to an anonymous Craigslist ad to record a man in private-with god knows what in mind-was an incredibly bold move, even for you. Thankfully, you were meeting at a hotel, instead of his private residence, a fact that made you feel slightly less worried. If the guy did turn out to be a serial killer or something, you at least had the guarantee of people close by who could hear you scream for help. That is, of course, if you were able to scream at all. You considered that the ‘audience,’ you were hoping for in the form of hotel guests may turn out to be witnesses instead.

The thought chilled you, and you tried to put it out of your mind. This was a responsible act, you told yourself, not the reverse. It would be irresponsible to miss rent again, to potentially lose your home. Times were tough; the debt you’d acquired from college wasn’t going anywhere soon. It was time to put the creative arts degree you’d worked for to use. Filming some guy in a hotel room for a few hours, for well over a thousand dollars, balanced things out in your mind. He was probably just some weirdo making an avant-garde film, you assured yourself. And if by chance the guy ended up having genuine talent himself, combined with your editing skills, the film might actually be an important addition to your resume.

Finding the hotel was easy enough. You’d driven past it on the highway probably hundreds of times in your life, so the name was familiar to you. But you’d never been a guest at the hotel, nor had you really seen it up close. In perspective, it wasn’t quite as clean-cut as your brief glimpses from the highway had suggested. The word that came to mind for describing the place was ‘seedy,’ like you were walking onto the location of Dan Bell’s Another Dirty Room series. Your instincts told you this was a bad sign, both figuratively and literally, as you took in the sun-bleached name of the hotel emblazoned above the lobby entrance. You reminded yourself of the money you needed, the money that was promised for you on the other side of Room 222’s door. The outside condition of the hotel didn’t really matter, you reasoned. Maybe the man who hired you was strapped for cash himself? Perhaps he didn’t have many options in terms of location, and simply chose the hotel that suited his budget? Maybe I shouldn’t be such a stuck-up bitch, you wondered, feeling a little ashamed. You’d been trying to work on slowing your initial responses to people and places, not wanting to judge a book by its cover, so to speak. It was a new year, and a new start for you towards being a more open-minded individual. This experience was testing your commitment to improving yourself, because your intuition was practically screaming at you to get the hell out of there.

Taking a deep, mindful breath, you entered the elevator. Its interior was just as dingy as the rest of the hotel, and when the doors opened on the second floor, you were hit immediately with the smell of stale cigarettes and booze. Another sigh, this one a little less mindful, left your lungs heavily. You adjusted the strap of your camera bag on your shoulder, and proceeded to room 22…

When you’d reached the stranger’s door, you took a second to settle your nerves before knocking twice. “John?’ you called, forcing your voice steady. “It’s Billie.” Only silence responded from behind the door at first, followed by the sound of footsteps quickly approaching. The door pulled open, just a crack, but enough for you to see the face of the man who’d hired your services for the next few hours. The first thing you noticed were his eyes. They were kind eyes, you assessed, a warm hazel with flecks of copper that revealed themselves when the light caught them just right.

“You’re Billie?” Josef asked. He was obviously surprised, and you quickly realized why. “I was expecting someone…someone-.” Josef paused.

“Male?” you offered. “I get that a lot.” Josef chuckled good-naturedly, his friendly smile easing your nerves. “Well with a name like Billie,” he said, pulling back the door for you. “I can imagine it happens a lot. Please-.” He waved his hand past himself to the room. “-Come in.”

The more you saw of Josef, the more you liked him. He was taller than you, but not so tall that it was off-putting. He was just right, the kind of height you wouldn’t even have to lift on your tiptoes to kiss. The mental image flickered through your mind, and you cleared your throat, remembering why you were there in the first place. Yes he was a good looking guy, who for some reason put you at ease in a way you’d never felt when meeting someone new before. But you were there for the sole purpose of capturing his artistic vision on film, and for that purpose alone.

“So what did you have in mind, John?” you asked, setting your bag down on one of the two queen beds. Josef cocked his head, his curious expression returning. The door clicked shut behind him. You watched to make sure he didn’t turn the lock. Even though you really liked this guy, he was still a stranger. And you were still standing here with him in a sleazy hotel room, with his body currently between you and the door.

“I appreciate your question, Billie,” he said, emphasizing your name. “Billie. Billie the Kid. Anyone ever call you that, Billie?”

You felt your cheeks flush a little, because for some reason, his question felt like a compliment, even though it wasn’t. “I-um,” you distractedly tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. “My dad used to call me that. When I was little.”

Josef nodded, snapping his fingers for emphasis. “Smart man. He had vision. As do I-.” He ducked suddenly around a corner and returned with what looked to be a veil, like the kind you’d seen the Virgin Mary depicted wearing in art. Josef draped the lace fabric over his shoulders and approached you, his face and tone solemn with importance: “…And with your creative direction, Billie, my vision will be brought to life…It was fate herself that willed our paths should cross…” Josef took another step closer, close enough that you began to worry he could hear your heart racing. “You could have been any other Billy…even a Bill, even a William for that matter but no, my dear sweet Billie-.” Here, Josef’s hands moved to cup your face in his palms, your eyes going wide in surprise. “…This is destiny,” he continued, almost in a whisper. “We’re partners now.” He went slowly to his knees before you, his palms together as if in reverence. “Blood of my blood…flesh of my flesh…” You recognized the paraphrased scripture as you gazed down on the strange man knelt at your feet. Josef took your hands in his, rising to a standing position, his eyes never leaving yours. “Oh my god, Billie…Oh my god,” he said through a warm smile, eyes lit with excitement. “This is gonna be a good night...”

Over the course of the following hour, you watched and recorded, offering input as requested from your client: a little change in lighting here, a play with background props there. From what you could tell, the vision Josef had in mind was a sort of religious horror short. His ‘character,’ was meant to be a man possessed by unholy forces. The Devil has a deadline, a certain amount of time he’ll allow the man before the demons take over completely. The man knows his time is up, that he’s in his final hours. He hires someone to document on film his last night on earth, before he’s unwillingly summoned to his unavoidable fate in Hell.

As a concept, it all sounded really cool. Bringing that concept to life however, with no budget and a lead who couldn’t act, was not cool by any stretch of the imagination.

Regardless of the details and Josef’s lackluster performance, nothing could have prepared you for what happened next. Whereas his character was standing strong in the trenches of spiritual warfare, it appeared that Josef himself was breaking down. You knew something was wrong, that he was no longer acting when he deviated sharply from the script and began to shed real tears, not the miserably-unconvincing ones he’d faked for a scene.

“Hey…it’s okay, John,” you assured him. He knelt at the bedside on which you were seated, resting his head in your lap. Your pulse lurched, heart thudding inside your chest. You weren’t sure what to do, so you did the only thing that seemed right: you gently stroked Josef’s cheek in an awkward attempt at comfort. The tears had slowed, but they picked right up again when Josef revealed his left hand, which bore a wedding ring. Your heart sank at seeing it. “My wife,” Josef began solemnly. “This whole project was her idea…She wrote the script, created this character, his whole history…”

You nodded as you listened, your hands dropping to your sides. There’s no way you were going to be touching a married man like that. “…She wanted me to play him, to bring her creation to life,” Josef continued. “It was her greatest wish…and sadly, her last wish…” You hated yourself for feeling it, but a sense of relief washed over you. He wasn’t married after all. At least, not anymore.

“…The cancer took her three years ago,” Josef tearfully revealed. “Three years and I still haven’t made her dream come true…I’m still letting her down, to this day…” His lament was cut short by a sob, words fading into your lap as he wept there. You reflexively began to stroke Josef’s cheek again, because you’d only seen someone this upset a few times in your life. You couldn’t not offer him some kind of comfort; he was obviously hurting, deeply. “I think what we’ve made so far is great, John,” you told him. “From the looks of the script, it seems like you’re following it exactly as your wife wrote it.”

He tilted his head to look up at you, eyes wide and hopeful. “Do you mean it?” Josef asked. With a nod of confirmation, you replied “yeah, I do. I think you’re doing a great job.” His eyes narrowed slightly, a darker look overtaking them. Josef rose abruptly to his feet, and began to pace back and forth around the room. “I don’t believe you,” he declared flatly, in a voice so low you had to ask him to repeat himself. “I don’t BELIEVE you,” Josef insisted, adding “You’re probably sitting there thinking this guy can’t act worth a goddamn…you know I can’t do her dream justice, you’re just refusing to say it! You probably think I’m a failure, don’t you Billie?” He almost sneered your name at you, and normally, you wouldn’t have taken this kind of verbal abuse from anyone. But you knew this wasn’t a normal kind of hurt that Josef was feeling. This man was grieving, haunted by a level of grief you hoped never to experience. Remembering your commitment to judging others less, you knew that right now, Josef wasn’t behaving rationally. He was acting in his grief, and you wouldn’t let yourself take his sharp change in attitude personally. Instead, you calmly came to Josef’s side. You turned his face to yours, letting your fingertips linger along his jawline. The muscles in his throat tensed against your palm, veins pulsing with the rhythm of his heartbeat.

Josef’s eyes were wet and wide, like a puppy who’d been scolded. “I don’t think you’re a failure, John,” you told him confidently, a warm smile on your lips as your thumb brushed Josef’s. “I think your wife was lucky to have a husband who loved her so much. I think you’re a very special man.” He swallowed, his Adams apple bobbing under your fingertips. “Do that again,” Josef told you, his voice as much a prayer as a command.

“Do what?” you asked. Every indication of sadness had faded from Josef’s face, the tension in his body evaporating. “Tell me I’m special,” he replied. Josef’s hands went to your shoulders, gripping softly. “You’re special, John,” you said. “So, so special…” You brushed your mouth lightly against his, breath hitching as Josef’s tongue slipped between your lips unexpectedly. He was aggressive, impatient in a way that told you he hadn’t been touched in a long time. Josef’s hands were everywhere at once, finding your ass and clutching it in one hand while clumsily groping for your tits with the other. You let him lay you back against one of the beds, his hand pawing between your legs and massaging you through your jeans. You arched upward, keening into Josef’s thrusts, his bulge grinding into your thigh as he clumsily humped against it. Your hips trembled as his fingertips found your clit. The front seam in your jeans was positioned between your labia; Josef’s fingertips rubbed rough circles into the denim, kneading your cunt through the fabric. He buried his head against your shoulder, his mouth a wet mess of tongue and teeth, consuming the feel of your skin, its texture, its taste.

You curled your fingers in the hair at the back of Josef’s head, clutching him into you. His lips traveled down your neck and along your collarbone, tongue gliding between your breasts. Opening his jaw wide, Josef drew as much of your breast inside his mouth as he could. Your nipple hardened to meet his tongue, a warm, wet pressure flicking against it. Your grip in Josef’s hair tightened as you arched, pressing your tit against his face, offering as much of your breast as his mouth could hold. Josef sucked at your breast in a rhythmic tug, massaging your aerola between the muscles in his cheeks. He whimpered softly, a sign you interpreted as an expression of pure need. Josef needed to be held, to be cherished. He needed to be desired by a woman again.

You tugged back Josef’s hair to lift his head from your breast. He groaned at the pull to his scalp. A dark smile briefly touched his lips as he indulged himself to enjoy the sting. Josef’s mouth crashed against yours, his tongue forcing past your lips in a kiss that was somehow more greedy than the ones before it. His hands were on your hips, keeping them spread. Your clit throbbed against the bulky outline of Josef’s erection. He ground his hips forward, rutting his cock into the now-saturated crotch of your jeans. He whimpered again, returning his mouth to your breast. Josef clutched your other breast tightly, kneading the soft mound in his hand. Your nipple was swollen and sensitive against Josef’s rough palm as he groped you, his mouth busy at work suckling your other breast while his cock strained at the seams separating your skin. You came hard, rocking beneath the weight of Josef’s body pressing down on you. Your orgasm completely soaked through your jeans and wet the bed under you. Every punch of Josef’s hips produced a slick, saturated sound as he rutted your ass inside a puddle of your own juices. He growled into your breast, like something animalistic. The vibration of his chest against yours was like the low purr of a lion, rattling your lungs as if Josef was inside you, replacing the very air you breathed with himself. His thrusts grew sharper, his fingernails digging into your skin. You winced as Josef’s teeth suddenly nipped at your breast, his bite grazing your nipple as you pulled back in pain. Josef’s hands went quickly to your shoulders, pinning you down, his mouth immediately returning to your breast. Josef tugged and licked and sucked your breast till he was gushing cum into the crotch of his pants, a feral growl rolling from his chest as he claimed you…

In retrospect, you wish you hadn’t fallen asleep. You wish you could have checked in to make sure Josef was okay, to make sure he knew the brief time you spent together meant all that it meant to you. And even if none of that had been said, you would at least have liked the chance to say goodbye.

When you woke, Josef was already gone. He’d left your money on the bedside table, along with a note. The text read: Billie: Thanks for a special night. Beneath the text was what appeared to be a doodle of a wolf’s face. You knew it was unlikely you’d ever see Josef again. But just in case, you keep the note he left you, hoping that somehow, someday, you’ll have the chance to ask him what the little wolf doodle means… 🐺