#god can you imagine if he and Alabaster met

[artemx746]

Lityerses has such theatre kid energy

[boricuacherry-blog]

Through much of the 1980s, she fell silent. She recorded a comeback album, "Something Real," in 1989 and took jobs singing advertising jingles for such companies as Stouffer's, Michelob, Kodak, Quaker Oats, AT&T, Hallmark, Exxon and General Foods.

"I faded away for a while out of necessity," Ms. Snow told the Los Angeles Times in 1998. "In hindsight, I missed out on some good or productive years. On the other hand...I really made the only choice I could under the circumstances."

Phoebe Ann Laub was born in New York City on July 17, 1950, and grew up in Teaneck, N.J. (Some reference sources mistakenly give her birth year as 1952.)

Through her mother, a dancer and part of a bohemian New York crowd, Ms. Snow met folk singers Pete Seeger and Woody Guthrie at a young age. Her early musical influences included blues singers and Judy Garland, and her first ambition was to become "the greatest woman guitarist alive. I had fantasies about being a female Jimi Hendrix."

She later said, "I can't play these guitar lines, but maybe I can sing them. I tried to sing the way a guitar sounds and the way a saxophone sounds too."

She dropped out of Shimer College in Mount Carroll, Illinois, and began singing in Greenwich Village coffeehouses, taking her stage name from a passenger train that rumbled past her New Jersey home on the Erie Lackawanna Line.

In March 2007, Ms. Snow's daughter died at 31. When she began to perform again, she always took a moment to tell the audience about her daughter's life.

"I've heard there's a DNA test where they check your mitochondrial DNA. You get a cheek swab, and they can break down your entire genetic heritage. I'm gonna have to take that test."

Her song "Poetry Man" introduced her to millions of people who undoubtedly assumed she was black. But both her parents are Jewish. She doesn't rule out the possibility though, saying, "A friend was over recently, and I said, have you ever seen pictures of my dad? He passed away in 2005. She said, 'Oh my god, he looks black!' I said, 'I know!' My mom was the whitest, most alabaster-skinned person you can imagine, but who knows what went on four generations ago? So this mitochondrial DNA test should settle it."

Oprah took the test and found out she was linked to South Africa's Zulu tribe.

Outward appearances aside, there's no question that Snow's voice is well inside the tradition of female-soul gospel shouters. But Snow is also prone to taking operatic leaps four or five octaves above her normal register, which is, she says, a dramatic soprano. Since the 80s, she's taken lessons from classical singers. "My hat is totally, humbly off to operatic vocalists. I don't know how they do it. Oh, my god!"

Yet when it comes to her own listening, Ms. Snow always comes back to "the original R&B guys, James Brown, Sam Cooke. I was just listening to the original group Sam Cooke was in. What were they called? The Soul Stirrers? They were so good I almost fainted. A lot of that Baptist stuff is so powerful. Tramaine Hawkins, Aretha...that's the stuff I really grew up listening to."

[leam1983]

The man sitting across from me has a slightly pronounced brow line and a hairline I'd die for. His lips are proeminent, but in a slightly ribald and fun-loving way. When he smiles, teeth proudly left crooked in an age of perfectly-spaced orthodontic jobs are visible, with grime and plaque infiltrations so old they no longer classify as filth, and look like lines of amber running the length of each tooth's enamel. Each tooth would fetch a fortune on the procurement market for archeologists - living fossils inset in living gums. He notices me staring and widens his smile, exposing his fangs.

"Not what you expected, I take it?" he asks, amusement giving texture to an accent I can't quite place. We speak, and the more we do, the more I'm convinced that this man is from... everywhere, all at once. All the same, he doesn't regale me with tales of an impossibly cosmopolitan existence, but instead discusses the same things I would have with anyone else. The weather, politics, some artist's new set list. The gait and posture of the jogger running past us.

I blink. "Aren't you thirsty?"

The man who goes by Cain - in mockery of the insane tangle of speculative lore that was spawned forth from him - shrugs.

"I don't need much blood, at my age. A few drops here and there, mostly. It's reached the point where autophagy is entirely workable for me. Accidental paper cuts mean I get another, oh, six months off of the stuff."

He pauses. "I get a lot of paper cuts, somehow."

Again, that same blithe grin.

You have to understand, I thought I was old. I followed the colonists from France as they founded Ville-Marie on Indian grounds and owe my nature to an addled monk in a crumbling abbey I met in England, in 973 A.D. I speak eight languages, I have more active bank accounts and personas than I know what to do with - and the sun's rays feel like they've only grown more cruel since my first nights.

"D-Do you eat, then? Or drink?"

Cain shrugs. "I found out how to irrigate those dead parts of me. Temporarily at first, and then I guess I just forgot to turn it off. I still need blood, but I can drink other liquids and digest food as well as any mortal. I don't need much more than a little sunblock on particularly sunny days."

A sigh is then added. "Should I go on? I really don't want to do this, you know - the whole A god am I thing. Entire bloodlines of yours came around to worshipping me, even if I spent century after century trying to express my disapproval. The same with those who thought - and who still think - that I'm going to end the world, somehow. Drown everything in my ceaseless hunger or whatever."

"Can you have children?"

He side-eyes me. "I have a legal persona, you know. Adoption remains a possibility; but I know what you meant. I used to think it wouldn't be much of an issue, but there is the issue of genetic memory. You're the product of a fork of Mankind that has innate markers against dozens of pathogens that killed my tribesmen, things for which no mortal epidemiologist has any name for. I don't have these markers, being as old as I am, a child of my own blood would inherit atavistic weaknesses centuries of inbreeding and later medical refinement have otherwise eradicated. Any child of mine could fall ill from things for which no cure remains."

I nod. "But you can-"

"I've laid with women, if that's what you mean. I've had children of my own, yes. I am biologically alive, unlike you. Isn't that the much-vaunted prize undeath keeps dangling in front of your elders - a return to what was lost? Even then, I could only pass on my weakness to my children. They all died young and frail."

Shock slows my own processes down, congeals my thoughts like old blood. "So, you have a heartbeat."

In response, Cain purses his lips and undoes one of his cufflinks, setting it aside. After unbuttoning his shirtsleeve, he hands me his arm. Gingerly, I reach forward. When I touch him, all my expectations fail me. I imagined skin like alabaster, veins like granite. Instead, what gives under the pad of my thumb feels warm, supple - and alive.

I feel it. Slow, steady, unyielding - the pulse of a man so old as to find human history boring. I'm somehow convinced of the notion that this steady drumbeat hasn't wavered in decades, that no amount of surprise or shock has ever quickened it.

"And you'd be right," he then adds, my thoughts as clear to him as snowflakes in a crystal ball. "My one remaining weakness is the dreaded electrocardiogram," he adds, chuckling. "I can run across entire oceans in an instant and control the hurricane-force shockwaves I would otherwise produce. I can melt or burn any surface with tapping motions so fast your own elders couldn't perceive them. Nothing can pierce my skin if I haven't allowed it to happen. I've leapt into the farthest reaches of the Earth's atmosphere with a simple hopping motion - and come back down while negating the bomb-like force of my would-be impact."

He smiled. "I've only ever died across the last few centuries so as to remain undiscovered, child. Despite all this, hook up an EEG to my chest and I'll be laid bare, eventually. Athleticism only goes so far as an excuse, I've found."

I can tell he senses my fear, my instinctual and rising terror. Still, all he does is sip at his coffee. He knows I know, and he especially knows he could end all of us in a single night. Cain takes a few moments to resettle his cufflink.

"I know you're just a messenger, Athelstan. You're young, and I know you're deeply attached to Montreal's mortal populace. You've done well by them, you've treated them with respect and you've upheld a personal moral code I can approve of. It's always refreshing to find a Blood Drinker with a sense of Ethics."

He smiles, the gesture disturbingly warm. "I won't harm a hair on your head. I know it's not your fault the Conclave's convened and decided that Lord Regis would claim Canada for himself. I know Regis, though - and I know what he thinks of the Warm-Blooded."

Cain drains his coffee. "When I'll be done, I'll leave you with Quebec. I'm sure you'll be able to find like-minded vampires to divvy up the other Provinces with you. I haven't spent three hundred years funding this country's slow ascent into Progressivism to see it all fester in the hands of sycophantic puppets who would crash the economy and slash all social programs for the sake of having another crop of undesirables to feed on."

"So, what do I tell him?"

Cain is silent for a moment. "Ask him if he remembers the old hatchet that split his skull open, on the day Constantinople fell. Then give him this for his thralls to have carbon-dated."

The elder vampire hands me a simple pillbox, inside of which is a small stone splinter.

"Once he has his results, tell him I told you it came from an old friend. An old friend who's dying to say hello."

It is known that the older a vampire, the more powerful it is. At a few centuries, a vampire is nearly unstoppable. You just met a stone age vampire.

[lady-rose-moon]

The Selection || Chapter Seven ||

Phew I thought this wouldn't be out until tomorrow but I managed to blitz through it and I am quite happy with the results! I hope you all enjoy!

Chapter Six || Masterlist ||

You celebrated the next day with your friends and the day was going really well and when you tucked yourself into bed the next night, you understood why Loki wasn’t visiting you that night and you sighed in disappointment. I just need time, you whispered to yourself dismally as you hugged the blanket close to you. 

You were close to falling asleep when you heard a knock at the door and you groaned, cursing under your breath about girls that wouldn’t let you sleep as you walked over to the door and pulled it open, freezing when you saw Loki standing in your doorway. “Loki?” you whispered in confusion before he cupped your cheek and your eyes fluttered shut. 

Moments later, you pulled away and laughed nervously as you blushed, “what was that for?” 

The Prince’s eyes met yours and the startling emerald froze you in your spot. They were so full of emotion, so full of love for you that it startled you and a small voice in the back of your head begged you to just let him call it all off and marry you but you couldn’t. The others needed their chance. 

“I needed to see you,” he whispered softly, his eyes flitting between your eyes and your lips continuously, “I tried to stay away, honestly, but I just couldn’t. You mean the Nine Realms to me, Y/N, no one else can compete. Not one of those other girls hold a chance.” 

You heart raced with elation at his confession but the dark parts of your mind encouraged you to believe that he was saying this to every one of the Selected girls. “Loki, I told you I needed time,” you whispered weakly, watching the Prince deflate at your words, a sad expression on his face. 

“Go into town with me,” he whispered, taking your hand in his and your breath hitched at the feeling of his cool hand circling your own, “just you and me. One camera only, I promise.” 

You bit down on your lip and weighed the options but then you remember that you had agreed to allow Loki to take you on dates like the rest of the girls and you could hardly say no to allowing Donna and Milly a chance to see you on TV again, you really missed them. “Okay,” you whispered weakly, enjoying the pleased smile that quickly overtook his desperate pleading expression. 

“Brilliant,” the God replied, his thumb stroking over the back of your palm delicately. His mouth opened and closed as if he was going to say something else but he simply leaned in and sealed your lips in another kiss and after he finally pulled away, he whispered, “I shall meet you at the entrance hall at ten am, my darling, dress warmly.” 

With a sweet smile, you nodded and gave him a peck on his cheek before taking a step back and closing the door. 

~~ 

You were at the entrance hall at exactly ten am and you smiled when you saw Loki dressed in his more formal attire with a pelt cloak wrapped around his shoulders. He looked utterly ravishing, and you couldn’t help but imagine just how perfect he would look as you ripped those clothes from his body to reveal the alabaster skin beneath. 

“You came,” Loki breathed, as if in shock that you would even turn up and his cheeks filling with colour as he smiled at you, offering his hand to you and beaming when you eagerly took it. 

“As if I’d leave the Prince waiting for a date,” you replied with a teasing smirk, blushing when Loki pulled your hand to his lips and kissed your knuckles which made your heart flutter, “I’m sure that would be completely inappropriate.” 

That’s when you noticed one camera trained on you and Loki and you began to shuffle uncomfortably, knowing that tonight everyone would be watching your date with Loki so if it went wrong, you’d soon be hated within the Realms.  

“Ignore the camera, darling,” Loki whispered, linking your arm with his and smiling at you though you noticed that it wasn’t that rare smile that you saw when you were both hiding away in your bedroom, it was more professional, more for the public eye rather than for you. After offering you a small smile, Loki guided you out of the palace and down to the carriage that was waiting for you.  

You were so stunned by the beauty of the carriage and how it looked but you didn’t miss the stallion that would be pulling the carriage and you looked between it and Loki. “Is that...” you whispered softly, seeing Loki eyeing the stallion longingly, suddenly so far away from you hidden beneath layers and layers of grief. 

“Sleipnir,” Loki replied in a hushed voice that you could barely hear so you knew the public wouldn’t be able to hear it. Suddenly, the Prince looked at you with a forced smile and helped you inside the carriage before Looking to the camera and whispering to him, “meet us in the city. This is private.” 

The cameraman nodded and stopped recording before getting on the back of the carriage. Satisfied, Loki closed the door to the carriage and turned to you, smiling sadly when he saw you waiting expectantly for him. “What do they tell you of Sleipnir in legend, my dear?” Loki whispered gently as the carriage began to move, his eyes betraying his worry and an emotion that you couldn’t quite place. 

“They say that Sleipnir is your son,” you replied, leaning forward in your seat and shivering slightly. Seeing that you were cold, Loki twisted his hand and conjured up another pelt for you – one that was designed like a female cloak to keep you warm. “They also say that after your pregnancy to Sleipnir, you couldn’t handle parenthood so you gave him up,” you whispered weakly, as if worrying how the God would reply to such a tale. 

“Sleipnir is my son,” Loki confirmed, his hand cupping his chin as his eyes looked downwards with a deep frown etched onto his face, “but I didn’t give him up. He was stolen from me by Odin because I was too young to be a parent. Odin is not as charitable as he appears, Y/N, it’s a miracle he even let me do The Selection.” 

You nodded your head solemnly and sighed softly before reaching over and taking his hand, flashing him a comforting smile as you tried to show him that you supported him. “It must be terrible,” you whispered, seeing the weakness in Loki’s eyes that you knew he didn’t even wish to show you, “it must be terrible to see your son daily but never be able to spend time with him.” 

Loki laughed bitterly and his thumb caressed your soft skin as he nodded. The ride was silent for a while as Loki seemed to be lost in his memories and you didn’t mind if he needed the time to think. He probably didn’t want to reveal that secret to you and now he was thinking that you’d abuse it. 

In all honesty, the Prince sat in shock of how understanding you were about his past and about him having a child. He hid a smile from his face expertly as he looked up to gaze at you, shocked to find you simply looking at him with an expression of true understanding that it made him freeze for a moment before he made a bold move and moved to sit beside you. With close proximity, he felt the subtle shudder of your skin and he frowned when he found that you were still cold.  

“Here,” he whispered, his seiðr glowing between you both to merge the two pelts into one large blanket and he helped you lean against him with a small smile, “better?” 

“Much,” you replied simply, a relaxed sigh escaping your lips as your eyes slipped closed. 

Loki could tell when you had drifted off as your breathing evened out and your head rolled towards him slightly with a beautiful sigh. The God didn’t dare admit it to himself that he wished he could see you like this every morning when you both woke up in his chambers. You needed time, he reminded himself sternly, you weren’t ready for anything like that. 

~~  

When you reached town, Loki gently shook you and smiled as you roused from your nap to stare sleepily at him. “We’ve arrived, my Princess,” he whispered tenderly to you, watching a small smile spread across your lips and your delicate hand take his offered one as he helped you out of the carriage. 

Everyone was already gathered in their stalls, ready to entice you into buying luxurious items or delicious baked goods whenever they could. The cameraman was ready and already filming as you stepped out of the carriage into the slightly bitter noon air, seeing Asgard in person for the first time away from your balcony in the palace. 

Loki stood beside you proudly, his hand firmly held on your waist as you steadied yourself, pulling the fur pelt back over your shoulders and sighing blissfully at the warmth that wrapped around you. Once Loki was sure that you were ready, he began to guide you through the small crowd that had gathered to welcome you to the city.  

“Come here, Lady Y/n!” someone called from a stall to your right and you tilted your head as you turned to look at what the stall was selling and you gasped when you saw that it held beautiful treats that looked as if they had only just come out of the oven. With a bright smile, you lead Loki over to the stall and stared at all of the treats. 

“How much for a raspberry pie and a chocolate brownie?” you asked, already fishing through your money bag to pay for the small amounts of treats. 

“For you, Lady Y/N, I charge nothing!” the seller grinned, his eyes looking between you and Loki with a proud smile as he selected the biggest of the brownies and pie and put them in a bag for you before handing them to you, “we’re on your team.” 

You stared at him for a moment before smiling and bowing your head as Loki thanked the man and guided you away. 

You visited many stalls in a good few hours and your favourite one was the mini weapons stall that you knew caught Loki’s eyes but he wouldn’t go over to it in case it frightened you so you decided to fake delight when you saw it. “Loki, look!” you gasped, pointing to the stall and causing the Prince to look over too and then look back at you, “I’ve always wanted a cool dagger or something!” 

Marry this one, something inside Loki whispered demandingly as he guided you over to the stall and watched you look between a sapphire crested dagger and a ruby red one. Seeing that you were distracted, Loki allowed his eyes to wander until they landed on a dagger made of the most beautiful emerald and malachite and he picked it up, testing its weight and balance and he hummed when he found that it felt perfect for him. “I shall have this one,” he announced, handing the merchant fifteen gold coins and then looking over at you, “darling what do you pick?” 

“This one!” you announced eagerly, lifting up the sapphire dagger and matching scabbard and Loki smiled softly before looking around the stall and finding a thigh holster and buying it for you as you purchased the dagger. 

The smile on Loki’s face didn’t leave even as he guided you into Asgard’s fanciest restaurant for lunch. Everyone inside was put off by the God of Mischief’s good mood until they saw you standing beside him and suddenly they understood. You were with him. Of course he’d be smiling! 

As you sat down in the booth with Loki, you looked over at the Prince and grinned when you saw him looking at you over the menu and you whispered, “what is it?” 

“Nothing,” Loki replied with a soft smile before looking back at his menu and then he wrote out the order in the air with his seiðr and he looked over at you expectantly, “have you decided?” 

“Yes, I’ll have this,” you turned your menu around to show him your order and you grinned when he wrote it in the air along with the drink you chose before the words disappeared and you assumed that the kitchen got the order. “How many of the girls have you brought here?” you asked with a smile, figuring that small talk would make the wait for food seem less. 

“None of them,” Loki responded, his eyes meeting yours with a small smile, watching your cheeks heat up, “yes, pet, I’m doing this for the first time with you. As it should be.” 

Your eyes fell to the table and you nibbled on your lip nervously as you thought things through in your head. He’s truly serious about this, you thought with a frown, nibbling absently on your nail, he has made his choice already, it would seem. 

“I also got this for you,” Loki whispered, placing a black velvet box on the table and you gasped as you pulled it closer to you. 

With slightly shaking hands, you pulled open the lid of the box and words left your mouth as you stared down at the train tickets in the box. “Train tickets?” you whispered shyly, “have I done something wrong?” 

“Quite the contrary, my darling,” Loki replied with a smile, his eyes shining bright with pride, “you have been permitted to go home and see your family for the Christmas season. All contestants have. Just one small detail.” 

“What’s that?” you whispered softly, your cheeks heating up when Loki leaned close enough and dropped his voice low so the camera wouldn’t pick it up, “I’m coming with you.” 

You were stunned into silence as you stared at the Prince. “You’re coming with me?” you whispered back, shock evident in your face, “to my home? On Midgard? With me?” 

Loki chuckled softly and nodded his head as an affirmative. “I would like to see where you grew up, my love,” he whispered again, his eyes shining brightly with mischief, “mother and father do not know that I will be doing this, however, but I find that for you? I do not care.” 

He lied, of course. Frigga had set all of this up for him to join you and keep Odin out of the loop and she was so very proud of it. Loki would be going home with his future Princess and time away from the cameras in public would be enough for Loki to sway you, she hoped.  

Lunch passed quickly after that and when you were heading back to the carriage, you found that it was not headed back to the palace, rather going down the Bifrost instead. “But don’t I need to pack?” you asked Loki with a weak smile, flushing when Loki laughed and shook his head. 

“Everything was already sent home after you left this morning, my beloved,” Loki responded, holding your hand and kissing your knuckles before seeing the gathering of carriages outside the Bifrost Observatory and he clicked his tongue, “they can’t know I’m coming with you, darling, I shall stay here.” 

You nodded and grinned when the footman opened the door to your carriage so you could race over to the gathering of girls and you grinned when Cleo ran into your arms. 

“We get to go home for winter!” the Vanir cried out, grinning with excitement as she hugged you, “I cannot wait to see my parents and tell them how beautiful Asgard is in person! Oh, Y/N, you will write, won’t you?” 

“Of course I will!” you responded quickly with a grin, turning so that all of your friends could join in a hug, “I hope you all have a good holiday!” 

Phoebe grinned and looked over at Katerina before pulling away from the hug and looking at the Palace in the background. “I won’t be coming back,” she announced, watching all of your friend’s faces turn to distraught and mournful before she added, “I met with Loki and admitted that I do not love him. Actually... I love someone else.” 

You watched as her hand shyly look Katerina’s and your eyes lit up in delight as Katerina blushed and looked away. “So you’re going home too?” you whispered weakly to Katerina and gathered her up into your arms when she started sobbing and nodding, “it’s okay! We’re proud of you for coming out!” 

“Win the contest, Y/N,” Katerina whispered with a small smile on her face, pulling away enough to look into your eyes, “we see how you look at the Prince when he isn’t looking. We know that you love him but won’t admit it. You can win this, Y/N.” 

With a short nod, you said goodbye to Phoebe and Katerina, promising to write during your stay on Midgard and then making them swear that they’ll watch The Selection when they get back home. You saw Summer Parkerdottir standing beside Lorelei saying goodbye and you noticed that she was crying. 

That’s when you realised what this was. This was the decider round. Three were now sent home so the next stage of The Selection can happen. The stage where he was allowed to explore more sexual activities with the girls of The Selection.  

As you walked back to your carriage and stepped inside, you looked over to Loki and grinned when you saw that he was now holding a glass of mead in one hand and looking out of the window. “You’re sending Katerina and Phoebe home?” you asked slowly, watching Loki flinch in surprise from your voice. 

“Darling, it was a mutual agreement,” Loki whispered, smiling at you as he sipped his mead and tried to contain his nervousness for your reaction, “it is also against the rules to pursue any other romantic relationships when trying to win my hand.” 

You sighed and sat opposite him with a frown. You didn’t like that Phoebe and Katerina were being sent home, but you knew the rules and it had to happen. Still, you were happy for your friends, and you hoped that they would be happy together. “I’ll miss them,” you whispered weakly, watching Loki’s expression soften. 

“I know you will, I’ve seen how those girls have brought out your confidence, my darling, but you shall see them again,” Loki whispered, his hand covering yours as his thumb stroked over the gentle skin of your hand, “you’d see them even sooner if...” 

“Loki,” you snapped, surprising yourself with the amount of venom you put into his name, “I said I needed time!” 

Loki deflated and nodded weakly before his hand dropped from yours and he sat back in his seat, continuing to sip his mead as he stare out of the carriage as it travelled through the beautiful rainbow of the Bifrost and then begin the trek to the train station. His mind wandered to what you thought of him if you snapped at him like that. His lips pressed down into a deep frown as a thought slipped into his mind that you might not love him to begin with. 

“My Prince, we have arrived at the station,” the footman announced from outside the door and he held it open for Loki to get out and then he helped you out, blushing when you thanked him. 

Loki offered you his arm and when you linked it, he boarded the train with you, finding a compartment easily and sitting down with you on the chair opposite him. The Prince didn’t look at you once, starting to build up walls to protect himself from the rejection that he felt you were going to give him at the end of this holiday. 

As the train chugged down the lines, passing many small towns and a few built up cities, you eyed Loki warily with a frown on your face. You didn’t like that Loki wasn’t speaking, your mind instantly decided that he was done being affectionate with you and was rethinking this whole thing of coming with you. 

Instead of bottling it up like you would have before The Selection, you whispered out, “do you hate me?” 

“Darling,” Loki purred, his emerald eyes locking onto yours almost instantly, “I feel quite the opposite.” 

You blushed and hung your head as you stared at your perfectly manicured nails with a small frown.  

The both of you remained silent for the remainder of the two-hour train ride, the air thick with tension and awkwardness that you could almost cut it with your beautiful dagger. Once the train arrived at the station, you heard the roar of a crowd, and it was enough to distract you from the tension between you and Loki.  

You stepped out of the train and were stunned to see all of Brekstad awaiting your arrival. Tears sprung to your eyes when you saw your parents and sisters at the front of the crowd with a bouquet of flowers and a banner saying, ‘welcome home, Y/N!’. 

“Y/N!!” you heard the scream before you were hit with two little thumps, and you laughed as you dropped to your knees to embrace your sisters and share your tears with them.  

“We missed you so much, Y/N!!” Milly sobbed, her tiny hands grabbing at your fur cloak as she sought out comfort in your arms. The girl had gotten so big while you were away, and your heart ached when you saw that she no longer had her hair pulled into beautiful pigtails and she wore it exactly as you used to.  

Donna curled into your side and wrapped her arms around your waist as she cried, seeking out the comfort that she’d missed from her big sister. “Being the big sister isn’t easy! I can’t sing lullabies like you can, Y/N!” the girl whines, melting into your gentle caress of her hair.  

“I’m home,” you whispered to them with a small smile, pressing a kiss to their foreheads before standing and giggling when they hugged your legs. You smiled as your mother walked up to you and pulled you into a tight hug, her hand gently caressing your hair as she whispered, ‘thank God you’re home.’.  

That was when you heard a collective gasp from the crowd, and you raised your head curiously only to see Loki stepping out of the train in his travelling attire and more casual version of his helmet.  

“It’s Prince Loki!” cried one of the villagers, pointing to the Prince in question. 

“Is the Selection over??” another spoke up, looking between Loki and you. 

“Y/N won!!” another voice called out. 

Loki gulped but held up his hand and straightened his back before switching into his public speaking mode and his voice could he heard from the houses at the bottom of the street. “Lady Y/N has not won The Selection,” he announced, ignoring the growing murmur of suspicion, “I was given the chance to holiday with one of the Selected to get to know them better, Y/N was chosen.” 

You knew it was a lie but Loki was the God of Lies so of course everyone would fall for any lie he tells. You enjoyed the comfort of your family as you watched Loki interact with the crowd and even spared a smile just for the Prince when he was flooded with children wanting to know all about Asgard. 

“You’re just in time for the festival, Y/N!” Milly squealed, tugging on your hand in an effort to guide you home and you smiled as you followed the little girl back home.  

Standing in front of the building where you had grown up, you realised just how horrid it looked in comparison to what you were now regrettably used to. Tears formed in your eyes as Donna and Milly led you inside the house and showed you that everything broken had been repaired with the money that they got from you being in The Selection.  

“Why didn’t you just move?” you turned to your mother to ask and yet you already knew the reason why even before she said it to you. 

“This is all we’ve known, why should we move when we can repair it?” 

With a grin, Donna held your hand and guided you up the stairs that were no longer creaky and worn but were now carpeted! You opened the door to your old bedroom and gasped when you saw that the bunk beds had been removed and replaced with new ones that looked as if they had been made of the most expensive wood on the market. The wardrobe had also been removed and in its place was another one that was coloured white with flowers on it with ‘D, M, Y/N’ on the wood of the door. You grinned as you stepped into the room and listened to the quiet of the floorboards beneath your feet. 

“We had a lot done to fix our home thanks to you, Y/N!” Milly grinned, running over to her bed and jumping onto the mattress, laughing when no squeaks were head and the bottom of it didn’t break, “you’re amazing!” 

Your cheeks heated as you smiled at your sisters before whispering to them, “can you give me a minute?” The girls immediately looked at each other before nodding and departing from the room. 

Now alone, you breathed heavily and walked over to the bunk bed that would have been yours and you rested your head against the cold wood. So many memories in this room had been replaced now that your family had enough money to fix everything and your heart ached when you thought that while you had been living lavishly for the last few months, your family had still been suffering for a long while.  

You sensed a change in the room and you sighed as you turned to the door and eyed the shadow in the corner of it. “I know you’re there, Loki,” you called out, resting your back against the wood and watching the shadow form into Loki, “why do you spy on me?” 

“I wanted to know if you’re faring well,” Loki whispered with a frown, stepping toward you and holding your arms as he looked around your bedroom, “how did it look before?” 

With a sigh, you thought of your room as it had been before and allowed Loki into your mind and you felt him conjure an illusion of the memory and when you opened your eyes, the room was darker and some of the floorboards were missing or splintered. The bunk beds were coming apart and looked so unsafe. The wardrobe was a disgusting green and splintering in every possible way but the drawing of you that Donna had spent hours on was still visible slightly. 

“This is how I grew up,” you whispered weakly, wiping away tears furiously as they seeped down your cheeks, “this is my life.” 

Loki looked around and released a soft sigh before pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead, “I’m sorry that I didn’t realise you lived this way, my Princess.” 

“I didn’t tell you, of course you didn’t know,” you replied quickly with a frown, looking around the bedroom mournfully, “I didn’t even realise how horrible it was. Oh Gods, I’ve changed... I’m such a terrible daughter and sister...” 

Loki’s expression softened and he shook his head quickly as he pulled you to his chest. “No, no you’re not,” he whispered, his fingers gently running through your hair as a way to comfort you, “the way you’ve been living for the last few months is what you deserved all of your life, my darling.” 

You released a sad laugh but Loki just tightened his grip on you to show that he was serious and you released a pathetic whine as you thought back to how you had just accepted your way of life before. You knew that your past self would think you were weak for breaking down in front of Loki but you knew that he would never tell anybody about this, not without your consent. 

“Loki... I know I said I needed time but... kiss me...?” you whispered weakly, your eyes searching his for any sign of discomfort but you only saw love and understanding. 

The Prince smiled and lowered his head, sealing your lips into a gentle kiss and holding you close to him. 

“I promise to you,” Loki whispered as he pulled away for breath, pressing a kiss between your brow and then on your cheek, “I would wait for you until the end of my immortal days. Until Valhalla crumbles and the fallen Gods live again, you shall be mine.” 

With a small smile on your face, you pressed your lips to his again. 

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

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[rcksmith]

The sin you make me commit. — Five Hargreeves

Requests: “omg i’ve been reading everything in ur acct, i love ur writing sm! could you do fluff 27 and smut 6 and 95 for five?”

“hello, love. can i request five hargreeves with fluff prompt 50 and smut prompt 54 if it's alright with you? thank you 💓”

Fluff prompts:

27. “It’s late. Shouldn’t you be asleep?”

50. “She don’t compare to you. No one does.”

Smut prompts:

6. “do you think of me when you touch yourself?”

54. “Come sit on my face, let me show you how much I missed you.”

95. “What are you doing in my bed?!”

A/N: We not tolerate any pedophilia here !!

I write about Five with their 20s. I write the same about the characters of Harry Potter.

Thank you for requests💖 I hope you guys like💖 English is not my first language, so I so sorry if have a mistake.

Requests are open. Love you ❤️

Resume: You're Diego's best friend, but Five desires you to much.

Couple: Five Hargreeves/Fem!Reader.

Warnings: swearing, explicit smut, dirty talk, fluff too. Smut smut.

— — — — —

Liking Five Hargreeves was ... stressful. If you could define all the whirlwind of feelings and emotions, you would use that word. Okay, maybe you would use two words: stressful and exciting.

Exciting because Hargreeves looked like an angry young god. Always with a malicious smile, a penetrating look and an energy that made any environment submit to him. Everyone felt the intense vibration that emanated from every inch of that tall, slim and thin 28-year-old body.

The dark hair like sin and the white skin like alabaster brought a sublime contrast, making your mind sail through dangerous and turbulent waters. Everything about him turned you on like hell. The voice was hoarse and arrogant, the laughter boastful, the posture of all that tall body. It was too much for you.

But everything about him also stressed you out like hell. Five Hargreeves was unbearable. And just as he was aware that he possessed an overwhelming beauty, he also knew that he was exasperating. And Five don’t give a shit for it.

But it wasn't just the personality that took you seriously. It was the girls. Five had half the women of that city wrapped around him finger, at the mercy of whatever desire he had, giving himself up on a gold tray if he asked.

Jealousy. It was clear and perfect what you felt. Jealousy so visseral that you rolled your eyes every time you were in the Hargreeves' kitchen, drinking coffee with Allison and Diego, and you saw Five appear with a purple hickey on his neck.

You had to control every fiber of your being so as not to break the mug that you were holding, so strong that you squeezed the porcelain. It was unbearable. Unbearable because you wanted him madly. With every cell of your being.

It is unbearable because you couldn't have him.

Truth be told, an involvement with Five would cause a hubbub. You are a friend of Diego's for a long time. The two of you met at the police unit, when You were recruited after graduating from college at the age of 22. Diego had been assigned to be you partner and, although he was pissed off at first because he practically had to babysit, the two of you ended up becoming inseparable.

The years passed, the friendship became stronger and, when Diego was expelled from the police, you were there to help him in any way he needed. And that only boosted friendship even more. Diego Hargreeves was a strong, stubborn and very determined man. Somewhat possessive of the people he loved, since in childhood he never had many things to hold on to and love. So when any light went through the dark room that was his life, Diego clung to that light.

Because that, you know that any romantic involvement with any of Diego’s brothers would awaken the volcano in the knife man. He would be possessed if he found out that one of the brothers was fucking his best friend. Besides, unfortunately, Diego was smart and astute enough not to notice any changes from you with Five if you chose to do something hidden.

So it was better to avoid the drama.

But, avoiding the eruption Diego, was triggering an eruption within you. A very specific and atrocious fire.

And that was exactly what you were feeling right now. Seeing Five walking down the steps of the mansion, his hair disheveled, his clothes slightly rumpled and hickey marks around his neck. If that were not enough to denounce the wild night he had had, the woman who came down behind him would have been enough. Her black dress was wrinkled, her makeup smudged and she carried heels in her hands.

It inflated a colossal jealousy inside you, setting fire to all your nerve endings.

The girl was still beautiful. Stupidly beautiful. Even with the shambles of last night, her blond hair still retained its incandescent shine and her long catwalk legs were stunning.

You snorted, rolling your eyes and making your way back to the kitchen once again.

“I arrived.” You held out the bag of donuts to Diego, who hurriedly opened it.

“How much delay.” He grunted as he stuffed a donut in mouth and turned to the counter, returning with two mugs “Your coffee.”

It was a kind of ritual between the two of you. It started at the police station, when you were still working together, you offered donuts for him and Diego coffee for you. And as the years went by it ended up becoming a symbol of friendship. You brought the food and Diego the drink. Always.

When he was fired, the two of you moved the tradition to his home. That was when the Hargreeves brothers met you, and your presence at the mansion became so normal that you didn't even have to knock on the door anymore, just like Diego at your apartment. After four years of friendship, you and Diego were still there. Unshakable. And maybe that was one of the things that kept you from giving Five any openness too.

“Is it just me or are these donuts getting worse and worse?” Diego complained, and you rolled your eyes.

“You tell me that since our patrols.”

“Because it is true.” He stuffed another candy in his mouth.

“And you still eat all of them.”

“One day I'm going to make a machine donuts my bitch and make better donuts than these.”

You laughed and, when you answered, a blue flash flashed in the kitchen and Five Hargreeves was opening the refrigerator.

You held your breath.

“Don't you have anything decent to eat in this house?” Five grunted and turned to you and Diego, stopping eyes on the donuts

“Do not even think…”

Diego warned, but it was too late, Five had teleported to his brother and snatched the candy from his hand, taking a big bite.

“Bitch.” Diego grunted.

“Good morning, my dear brothers!” Klaus entered the room, smiling and covered in a black feather overcoat. “My brother's dear girlfriend.” He winked at you.

You choked on your coffee, or Diego, or both.

“She's not my girlfriend.” Diego defended himself.

“But I was not referring to you.” Klaus countered and this time it was Five who choked on a piece of donut.

You caught something in the air, something that went down your spine and injected an icy sensation into your heart. A feeling that there was something deeper in those words. Something you didn't know what it was about.

But from the way Five gave Klaus a look that contained the promise of apocalypse, you felt that the two brothers knew very well what it was about.

Diego frowned and looked at you, but you made a gesture with the shoulders and the eyebrows of someone who also didn't understand anything. Then he took it as just another one of the senseless things Klaus said and shrugged, turning to you again.

“Are you going to work on that case today?”

You agreed, drinking your coffee.

“Yes, I managed to find more clues about the dealer.”

“The ones in the alley, isn't it?”

You smiled, are nice and light the way Diego and you had the same line of reasoning, almost like an internal language. He could tell exactly what was going through your head. And all him siblings could see that, too.

Five could see that. And that was the main reason he fucked that blonde until he lost his mind. Discounting all the anger he had felt for months.

Five felt so wrong. So dirty. A bastard of the worst kind for lusting after his brother's best friend so... intensely. Only the devil knew how many times Five touched himself thinking of you, remembering your legs in that tight skirt and high heels, or the moments, like today, when you appeared with a white dress shirt, so tight that your breasts were so marked that it barely left work for the imagination.

Fucking hell! You are a fucking mirage!

“Exactly. I'll tell you later how it was today.”

You smiled at Diego and took your bag from the table, hanging it from the arm fold and drink the rest of your coffee.

Diego stuck another candy in his mouth and stretched his left hand towards you, saying with his mouth full:

“Your collar is crooked again.” He pointed and took his fingers to your collar, tidying up the white fabric

Five squeezed donut himself so tightly that he felt it break in his fingers. God! That was the worst part! When someone touched you. He knew that for Diego and you it was completely normal. Your friendship was very strong, but that didn't stop Five from burning inside.

“Thanks” You smiled and pulled a donut out for you while saying goodbye to everyone and left the mansion.

Diego left the kitchen seconds later, leaving only Klaus and Five there.

“If you made any move, she would be more with you.” Klaus scoffed as he pulled an orange juice.

Five rolled his eyes. Klaus was the only one who knew about his secret crush on you. It wasn't like he said it, but Klaus realized that he was looking at you much more closely, that he held breath when you were too close. And that he always drowned in a night of drinking and casual sex when he saw Diego much near you.

“Shut up.” He stuffed what was left of the candy in mouth.

“Why don't you talk to her? It's not like she's a seven-headed monster. ”

“She is Diego's best friend.” Five pointed out the obvious and Klaus shrugged.

“So? You two are adults, it’s not like you’re in high school.” He drank the juice “I bet Diego would fuck some of your a hottie’s friends if you had any. You two don't need him permission to have sex. ”

Five rolled his eyes.

“Even if I did that. And it doesn't mean that I will!” He pointed to his brother “But even if I did, Y/N never gave any indication that she wants anything.”

“Oh for god's sake” Klaus laughed “Didn't you notice how she looks at you? It is so intense. As if she was undressing you with eyes. It's very hot, actually. ”

Those words rang in Five's mind all day. All afternoon. Blundering any common sense he once had.

Was he so oblivious to your eyes? Five tried so hard not to catch fire when he was close to you that he might have missed the signs of how you felt.

What if he did make a move with you? What if you wanted that too?

It's not like Five wants to hurt Diego. Or if Five had chosen his brother's best friend just because he was a bastard. No, Five didn't wake up on a beautiful day and thought: “Hm, I'm going to fuck my brothe’s best friend.” Do not.

Five was human. And any human with good eyes and a little common sense would be overwhelmingly attracted to you. And besides, they were not children. Diego would be fine.

As Five placed a stone in the dilemma called “Diego”, a colossal wave of indecent images of you sank Five into the deepest ocean. Invading him entire system and injecting all those months of insane desire into his veins again. Now in full force.

Every night Five fucked senseless any woman, just to close his eyes and imagine that it was you. That it was your moans, that was your hot body, your broken kisses. So many months of high denial and physical torture would now explode like an atomic bomb in his system. It physically hurt not to touch you. It was like missing something he never had. Being addicted to a drug he had never tried.

But today Five was going to overdose.

It was one in the morning when Five Hargreeves made a decision. When his whole body burned with his own lustful desire, screaming for him to seek some relief. And it was one in the morning when Five teleported to your apartment, specifically in your bed.

Five didn't know what to expect by going there. He was so overwhelmed with his own emotions that he didn't stop to think about call you phone like a normal human being.

No. He needed to see you. Right now. A long time of self-denial mess a man's head.

Five Hargreeves considered himself to be a very articulate human being, a genius, unshakable. But as soon as he saw you come out of the bathroom, wrapped in a towel, he would never be able to say anything even if him life depended on it.

As soon as your eyes landed on you, you screamed, jumping two steps back and widening eyes.

“Five? My God, what a scare!” You tightened the towel around your body “What are you doing in my bed ?!”

He swallowed, mind too focused on you to think of any decent response. In fact, there was not one. Five was being as intrusive as possible, and he realized how much you messed with the reasoning in him. How much you messed up and played with him brain.

Five should have said something. Anything. But what he said was: “It's late. Shouldn’t you be asleep? ”

You laughed, a little shocked, a little puzzled.

“Answering my question with a question?" You laughed “Did you forget that I'm a cop?”

Oh no. He never forgot that. In fact, that title just made him want to turn you on your desk and fuck you until you shout him name. Five gave a smile at that thought.

"I needed to talk to you." Then he got up from the bed and went towards you.

Five noticed the exact moment when your breath evaporated. When your skin prickled, your chest rose and fell more intensely, pupils dilated. He was one inches away from your hot body when he saw the delicious blush spread over your angel cheeks. You had such a sweet face!

God, he wanted to break you!

"Wh-what did you want to talk to?" Your voice faltered, and Five realized that Klaus was right.

Oh yes, you wanted him too.

Five drew suspense, raising hand and brushing him fingers along your arm damp from the hot bath water, your skin crawling. You looked like a goddess like that. So disconcertingly beautiful.

"You are so Beautiful." He couldn't keep that thought to himself, and you blushed “I thought you were beautiful from the second I saw you.”

You lost your breath, clasping your hands on the towel, pressing it on your body, your fingers trembling just like your heart. Five's hand went up to your neck, touching your warm skin and running her palm up to your cheek.

“I have been wanting you for so long.”

“You do?” You sighed back, leaning over him touch.

“Every fucking day.”

To say you were shocked would be an understatement. Five found it funny, as if it were possible that there was some reality in which he didn't want you so badly. His touch on your skin became firmer, and he moved closer.

“Did you think I didn't want you?”

“Yes” You said “You never did anything, and you've always been with so many women.” Five noticed that you contained an eye roll “Like today's blonde.”

“She don’t compare to you. No one does.” Now he placed both hands on your cheek, gluing your two body, him height being much greater than you.

That seemed to be the right answer, because you responded by canceling the space between the two of you, sticking your mouth to his. Five sighed, as if he had taken water after years in the desert, pressing the touch. You tasted much better than he ever imagined, and when your tongue brushed him, he sighed again.

Five Hargreeves had all the women wrapped around his finger. But only you had he wrapped around your finger.

You put your hands up to his black hair, dropping the towel that collapsed on the floor. You thought that you would be the most anxious person there, that it was you who wished all this time with the greatest ardor. But Five proved you were wrong. The aching groan he gave when he touched your naked body was the greatest proof you needed to know that it was he who had been burning for months in a fierce fire.

Five memorized every bit of you as if it were going to be him favorite memory, rising his hands to your breasts and biting your lower lip as he squeezed your hot flesh. You groaned, or it was him. Or both.

“You are so fucking delicious.” He snarled in your mouth, dropping left hand down your belly, making you clasp your hands in him arms, needing more.

“F-five." You sighed, the core throbbing.

“Do you think of me when you touch yourself?” Five lowered his mouth to your ear, finding yours smooth folds and swallowing a snarl when he felt how wet you were.

"Y-yes." You sighed, wrapping your arms around his neck and rummaging around in his hand, desperate.

"Oh, what a dirty little thing.” Then he stuck a finger in your slippery entrance, and you screamed out loud, sobbing and clenching your nails in his flesh. But as fast as he entered he left, leaving you with a feeling of emptiness and a loud grunt “Patience, doll.”

Five pulled you onto the bed, climbing on top of her and guiding you. You went, and followed the commands when he lay down and pulled your waist to him face.

“I need to taste you, doll.” His hands traveled to yours breasts and squeezed them, eliciting a loud groan from you as you shook your head. “Come sit on my face, let me show you how much I missed you.”

"A-anything you want."

Those seemed like the right words, because Five snarled and stuck his hands on your hips, pulling you into him mouth. The warm lips grabbed your pulsing core, making you scream softly as he ate you like a hungry man. Five squeezed the ten fingers on your hips with absurd strength, leaving you not a single inch apart. He feast on your wet pussy, moaning against your necklace as you sobbed loudly and saw stars.

You dropped your hands into him black hair, curling your fingers as you arched your back, closing your eyes tightly as your mouth opened in a silent scream.

“Cum to me, baby.” Five snarled at her clit, and you couldn't control a desperate moan.

“Five!" You screamed when Five dipped his tongue inside you, activating your orgasms that came in long strokes, making you shiver in him mouth.

You don't have time to breathe, to reason, to get out of the cloudy wave of climax. Five pulled your hips to the side, throwing you on the bed and climbing onto his body like a hungry animal. He stuck his lips to yours, making you taste your own as you slid him hands down your thighs, pulling them to line up on him hips.

“F… five…” You gasped, sinking your nails into him back, following him mouth with yours when he pulled away, not letting the desperate kiss go away.

“Delicious little thing.” He snarled, dropping his hands to his belt as he quickly unbuttoned his pants.

Your hands went to him shirt, not having much patience to take care of each button, eventually pulling the cloth with both hands and breaking the remaining buttons.

“Someone here is desperate” Five scoffed, a malicious smile, but him hands worked so fast that you thought that if Five could now change his powers to make the clothes disappear, he would change without hesitation.

“Please." You pleaded, your eyes pleading to have it all.

Five snarled in an animalistic intonation, pulling his dick out of his underwear and lining up at your extremely wet entrance, going in at once, sinking to the bottom of the well, hitting his groin on your swollen clitoris.

You screamed, digging your nails into him skin and arching your back.

"Oh my God!” You moaned loudly, losing your breath for the strength that Five set up the thrusts.

He would hit your body on the bed, leaving you trapped between him body and the mattress, claiming everything that was yours as his. Five pulled a hand to your throat, squeezing there and sticking his mouth to the foot of your ear.

“It is not God, darling. It's me.” He snarled, hitting your walls more brutally.

The sounds in the room were purely pornographic, you and Five were moaning loudly, hitting the headboard against the wall aggressively and assiduously. You would definitely get a fine from the condo for the noise. But, fuck!

You brought your mouth up to Five's, swallowing him moans and muffling your own, wrapping your legs around him hips and pulling him deeper, hitting all yours hot, leaky walls.

Tears pooled in the corner of yours eyes, and Five felt himself ignite with that. He couldn't take much, fucking hell! You were fucking hot. Delicious.

"Such a good pussy!” He groaned on your lips, moving his fingers down to your clit and setting an intense rhythm, making your walls contract against his dick and you scream louder.

“I-I will… I will…!”

“You can cum, baby. I got you!” Five kept his movements and fingers on your clit, making you explode for the second time that night.

He pulled the air between his teeth as he felt your cum spread on his dick, sending all the rest of his sanity into space. Five stuck both hands on your hips, kneeling on the bed and fucking you with absurd force and brutality, shoving as deep as possible inside you and stopping there, pouring all the hot liquid into your deepest centimeter.

You sobbed, rummaging your hips slyly, making sure you took every last drop of it. Five let out a loud breath, coming back at you in breathless searches for air, allowing your hearts to calm down.

"Wow." You laughed softly, tiredly, and Five lifted his head and laughed softly.

“I have wanted this for so long.” He confessed, kissing you again just because he could, not leaving you yet.

“Diego is going to kill us.” You groaned, squinting.

"It will be our secret.” Five kissed down your neck, his hands roaming your body.

You sighed, your body relaxing in him hands. Five looked at you again before saying:

"So... do you want to have dinner with me tomorrow?"

You laughed out loud, putting your arms around him neck and nodding.

“Of course."

[barkskins]

the privilege that came with humanity wasn’t lost of kier, but that didn’t mean it was something that he accepted. in fact, it left a bitter taste in his mouth—the idea that the very shape of his ears, his mundanity, put him on a pedestal was one thing, but against lavenia? it was almost archaic. she didn’t just harbour a power that people like him could never imagine, but she held the sweetest of hearts within her chest, protected by the cage of her rib bones. the key was almost as large as his own hand; it made a loud clunk as the lock twisted and the door opened. it was nothing special, but there was a bed. he delicately lowered lavenia onto the bed, perching himself on the edge of the hay-filled mattress as he observed her exhausted frame. their eyes met, a solemn smile shared between them. “i know. you get some rest.” in the soft glow of the tavern room he began shrug off his heavy jacket, to unbutton his worn shirt; beneath was his almost alabaster skin mottled with watercolours of blues and purples. a slight grunt followed the movement, the ghost of broken bones still haunting him despite her healing hand. “i asked for two plates for dinner.” and, soon enough, there was a soft knock at the door. kier shrugged his shirt back over his shoulders to shield the aftermath of his injuries, thanking the staff, bringing food to lavenia's bedside. "sit up for me." whispered the thief, resting his hand on the small of her back to support the woman as she straightened out. their faces were close enough for his breath to tickle her cheeks. "then you can get as much rest as you need. i'll keep you safe here." safe was something they could never guarantee but, god, kier would give his life for hers; she had the power to change the world. he barely had enough to keep out of jail.

It was a wonderful wish── one that she hoped would one day come true, but as it stood, it was damn near impossible. She wanted, desperately, to be able to walk through the streets with her fingers laced with his; to put her hair up, and not worry about whether or not she'd be attacked for the shape of her ears. "One day." But not today.

The idea of good food, and a warm bed was an exciting one. It would be a much needed respite from all the camping they'd been doing out in nature. And while she absolutely loved nature, sleeping on the ground every night was not as fun as one might imagine. The elf gave a firm, but slight nod when he told her not to say sorry. But she felt terrible about breaking her promise to him ── especially when she had promised him that she wouldn't over do it. But they both knew that she'd never do the bare minimum when it came to him.

The pair walked the distance between the rock and the tavern in relative silence──Lavenia's mind focused on calming her raging stomach. The closer they got to the building, the more tantalizing the scent of meat became; mouth watering intensely. Before the pair could enter the tavern, it was customary for Kier to make sure she good to blend in. It was a tedious, and immensely annoying assurance that was needed, for both of their safety. The worst part was having his hand on her neck, and being unable to pull him in closer for a kiss.

Instead, she followed Kier into the tavern, lingering in the shadows until he returned to her and led her towards their room. Once inside the safety of the room, Lavenia collapsed onto the bed──curling up, not even worrying about a pillow, or the coverings. "Kier, I'm so tired," she admitted softly, struggling to keep her eyes open.

[tobiosmilktea]

nom de plume — bokuto koutarou

1.6k words | genre/s: barista!au, fluff | warning/s: — | pairing: bokuto x gn!reader

↪︎ in which bokuto gives you a fake name every time he comes to the cafe you work at. you’ve been dying to know the handsome stranger’s real name, but here you are scribbling “captain america” onto his stupid caramel macchiato

a/n: here’s something short and sweet to quench my need to write a fic after writing boring essays all week for school. not the most original content either but i needed something simple :p

there were four types of regulars you would see walk through those doors of the cafe you worked at. either to spend as little as five minutes to the entire day inside the shop just to breathe in the serenity of light jazz music humming in the background. you’ve been working at this establishment long enough to relish how different every single person’s life was as they stood in front of you and ordered their special pick-me-up for the day.

you could easily tell what a person was like based on what they order—like that middle-aged office worker with a receding hairline that always entered the cafe in the midst of an angry phone call with a client, disrupting in the calm mornings with bickering. he usually orders an iced americano, bitter and dark enough to match the dark circles under his eyes and wrinkles adorning his forehead. not entirely your favorite, but he tipped well.

then there was the occasional university student, overworked trying to finish three different essays while cramming for an exam. they usually come in small study groups that end up messing around half of the time or they trickle in as individuals, eyes all red and glued to their laptop screens as they try to chug the remaining contents of their cappuccinos with three shots of espresso.

then there were the soccer moms with their obnoxiously specific drinks, ranging from the different flavors of frappuccinos with extra, extra caramel drizzle.

and then there were guys like him—the one with alabaster hair and darkened roots who just walked inside the cafe—your favorite. the door swinging opening and causing the bell right above the threshold to ding. the tall, hot, and beefy regular with a smile so intoxicating that he catches you off guard each time he walks in exactly at two-thirty in the afternoon.

you didn’t know his name, but you recognized his face, all chiseled and annoyingly handsome. this time he was accompanied by his friend again, akaashi with dark frames resting on the bridge of his nose.

unlike his companion, you actually knew his name as he would actually give it to you, unlike the latter who preferred giving out a new nickname each time he comes around to visit. hell, you knew a lot more about akaashi despite seeing him far less often.

to say you were a bit peeved of this fact was beyond question.

the only thing you truly knew about the man you were inexplicably interested in was that he always ordered an iced caramel macchiato with almond milk. he was very particular about the non-dairy part of that order.

“what can i get you two?” you ask the two towering figures before you. though, it wasn’t much of a question when you already knew what they would order.

“a flat white for me,” says akaashi.

the usual, you think. he says he likes the foam art designs you make.

“and an iced caramel macchiato for me,” says the other, giving you that infamous toothy grin.

god, he was so cute. if only i knew your name, stranger.

you input their orders into your screen quickly, the total popping up on the smaller screen in front of akaashi and his friend as he takes out his card. he inserts the chip in for a few seconds, waiting for the beep to emit from the machine before taking it out in a swift flick.

once the payment goes through, your fingers pull the black sharpie clipped onto your apron off as you grab a cup.

akaashi didn’t bother mentioning his name as you were already scribbling it down in cursive—swift, yet satisfyingly neat. on the other hand, you waited for the white-haired boy to mention what new moniker that piqued his interest today. your eyes met his with patient intent.

“captain america,” he mutters with the corners of his lips tugging up into an amused smile. as if he was proud of himself for saying such, you couldn’t help melt into his contagious grin. like a ray of sunshine that would immediately melt away your troubles, you swore your heart skipped a beat.

the brunet flicks his eyes back and forth from you and his friend, temporary intrigue setting in as he holds back a smirk. “sorry about him,” akaashi pats his friend’s shoulder, “we’ve been rewatching the entirety of the mcu and just finished captain america before coming here.”

“oh, no worries, i’m used to it.” you wave it off, “it isn’t the first time he used marvel superheroes as nicknames. just two days ago he used vision after i reminded him that he had already used thor twice in the past week.”

“i’m surprised you remembered them in the first place,” akaashi’s friend confesses.

“how could i forget? i always look forward to whatever name you give me next.”

you thought you saw a hint of red blush dusting his cheeks when you flick a look over to him, but you weren’t too sure.

perhaps it was just your imagination.

noticing that you were only holding them up by making useless conversation, you clear your throat, muttering almost incoherently, “i’ll have your drinks ready in a few minutes.”

you dipped back towards the coffee machine before they could even thank you. their cups were gripped tightly in your hands as you placed them down next to the machine. the ground up coffee beans cascaded down the dispenser and into the portafilter. carefully, you compressed it tightly into the container before brewing the espresso into a small shot glass.

“is that the guy you were talking about?” your coworker, mitsuko, pops up from behind you and asks. you jolt a bit, almost spilling the piping hot, steamed milk in your hands when you give her a look, “you weren’t wrong when you said he was a complete hunk!”

playfully rolling your eyes, you continue making their coffees, careful not to spill anything that could possibly garner more attention towards you as you could see his towering figure over the barrier.

mitsuko’s eyes cast down towards one of the cups, grabbing at one of them to read the name. “captain america, huh?” she reads before glancing at him, “he fits the name well, at least. you think he’s an athlete?”

you shrug, “not sure, but i heard he’s a big marvel fan. he used quicksilver, vision, and thor in the past week.”

“aren’t you ever curious about his real name?” mitsuko asks as you smile contently at the foam art before snapping the cover atop akaashi’s flat white.

“of course i am,” you say, setting the ready-made drink to the side to start the other. “i suppose the guy likes his privacy. who knows, maybe he’s famous or something.”

you say that partly as a joke, but something inside of you thinks that perhaps that this was that one in a million chance. how would something of such a high caliber as him not be inherently well-known, even if it was just a little bit?

mitsuko snorts at your vehemence, slapping the meat of her thigh as if that was the funniest thing she has heard all day. “as if any famous person would ever come into a random cafe in a small city, (y/n).”

you didn’t answer for a few beats as you completed the white-haired boy’s drink, capping it properly. you weren’t ignoring your coworker’s statement, yet rather simmering in the thought of how ridiculous it actually sounded.

maybe this guy just wanted to have some cheap amusement. nothing more nothing less. it was just a name after all.

you let out a sigh, “as much as i would love to know his real name, it’s none of my business. speaking of which, has he ever given anyone else random nicknames when he comes by?”

mitsuko shrugs, “he only ever comes by when you work.”

“seriously?” you’re quite surprised.

“yup, this is the first time i’ve ever seen the infamous regular who only gives out fake names.” she mused, “maybe he does it to get your attention.”

you roll your eyes, scoffing at the thought. how ridiculous. you never wanted to wipe that smirk off of your coworker’s face as you wave her off, approaching the open end of the counter as you readied yourself to hand them their drinks.

they had been patiently waiting at the other end of the counter for a few minutes now, grateful they didn’t complain at your discrete chatter with mitsuko as some patrons would. instead, they smiled at your approaching figure with their coffees in your hands.

“here’s your flat white,” you hand the cup over to akaashi.

he flicks you a charming look of appreciation before making his way towards the cafe’s entrance. you couldn’t exactly pinpoint if he was in a hurry or not as he left you and his friend alone.

you didn’t entirely mind, though, as you shook it off.

you handed the man his drink, “and to the dude whose name that i shall never know.”

he mutters a brief thank you as he takes it from your hand, fingers brushing against each other and causing your heart to rush.

“aren’t you curious?” he asks suddenly.

your brows furrow, “about what?” you replied as you feign innocence.

“my name,” he clarifies.

“well, unless your name is actually captain america, why wouldn't i be curious?” a smirk was slowly appearing on your lips, “besides, with the dozens of people i see almost everyday, i have to say that you’ve caught my attention, stranger.”

he grins, hand fishing through his pocket, “well, since you’re dying to know,” he hands you a tiny slip of paper, making sure the tips of his fingers linger feather-like touches on the palm of your hand. “come and find out for yourself.”

he sends you a wink before walking out of the cafe, leaving you absolutely dumbfounded. your shaky fingers unfold the creases of the paper, eyes scanning the contents of his messy handwriting.

000-000-0000

the name’s bokuto — call me! :)

general taglist: @yongboxerrr @crybabbicus @rosepetalhaven @tvwhoresblog @tanakaslastbraincell @kellesvt @kitsunetea @milktyama

[books-and-cookies]

i’m back on my bullshit

* so in an effort to pretend that this world isn’t going to shit, I’m reading Crave by Tracy Wolff, because 2020 is the year of Vampires Are Back, Baby™ and I intend to fully take advantage of that - hiss hiss motherfuckers

* anyway, this is apparently very heavily inspired by Twilight and oh my god, there’s a boarding school. Listen here, boarding schools make for WONDERFUL plot additions in books, even if the books are garbage. I’m sorry, I don’t make the rules.

* I’m wondering if the vampires in this book are traditional ones, or I’m about to be served a portion of “omg, look how cOOL mmmmmyyyyy vamPIRES ARE”

* “I can’t imagine that this cold, foreign place will ever feel familiar to me” – lmao wait for the eye candy, brooding, overprotective vampire to show up

* the boarding school that is actually a goddamn castle is my favourite character in this book.

* aaahhhh this reads like peak 2013 YA bless us all

* GUYS LOOK AT THISSSSS IM CACKLINGGGGGG: “Skyscraper cheekbones. Full red lips. A jaw so sharp it could cut stone. Smooth, alabaster skin. And his eyes…a bottomless obsidian that see everything and show nothing, surrounded by the longest, most obscene lashes I’ve ever seen” – this description makes me so happy I swear to baby jesus; may we never outgrow early 2010s YA pls and thank you

* “that smirk says he knows exactly what kind of effect he’s having on me”; “the black jeans and T-shirt he’s wearing only emphasize his flat stomach and hard, well-defined biceps” – bless bless blessssss, bicePS AND ABS oh my pls stop before i lose myself and faint

* “obnoxious smirk or not—this boy is sexy af. A little wicked, a lot wild, and all dangerous” – please engrave this on my headstone thanks

* this entire book is quotable, I fucking swear

* oh he “hates” her and wants her to leave the school – I fucking…. *chef’s kiss*

* “instead, we stand there, frozen. Devasted. Connected in a way I can feel but can’t comprehend by our very separate horrors.” – girl, you met him like five minutes ago sdugAISgfisdgf guys this book is killing me and I’m 40 pages in what is thisssssssss

* oh my fuuuuuuuuuuckkkk: “But somehow the scar only emphasizes the danger, turning him from just another pretty boy with angelic looks into someone a million times more compelling. A fallen angel with a bad-boy vibe for miles…and a million stories to back that vibe up.” – going into a coma, pls don’t revive

* “this boy who frustrates and terrifies and excites me all at the same time” – you’ve literally known each other on this earth for less time that I need to finish eating a croissant shdgkaSgdkjSgdkSAG bury me with this book

* this school is full of brooding, muscly guys and I’m like hoW OLD ARE YOU ALL SUPPOSED TO BE LMAOOOOOO

* “I can’t help but wonder why the guy with ice in his veins makes my skin tingle and the one literally lending me his warmth leaves me cold” – twilight and Jacob are rolling in their graves

* everything in this book is dripping with cheese and clichés and tropes and I’m just squealing in joy because READING TRASH IS GOOD FOR YOUR SOUL

* so… 2 guys attack her at night literally out of the blue, there’s no explanation, while she’s out of bed lmao and Jaxon (omg I forgot to mention that THIS IS HIS NAME; dudebroooo who) sweeps in to save her and dispatch Brooding Justice™ and I’m just living FOR THIS BOOK

* oBsIdIaN gAzE

* “Then brings his thumb to his lips and—holding my gaze with his own—sticks his thumb in his mouth and slowly sucks off the blood. It’s the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen” – I am deceaaaaased hoy fuck

* tropes so far: beautiful girl who thinks she’s plain, brooding hot hero that pretends he’s Bad For Her™, hero likes to cock his eyebrow and smirk, girl gets attacked in some way and he swoops in to save her, tragic backstories, what is communication, supeRNATURAL things

* i am liVING FOR THIS BOOK

* there are all sorts of references to dragons, that make me think dragons will be part of the supernatural array of creatures that we are bound to meet in this book, but with like a Cool Twist™, like people that shapeshift as them or they spit out alcohol instead of fire or fuck knows what other fuckery

* fuck me, I think this is a school for different types of creatures, like vampires, werewolves, fairies, dragons. If this turns out to be true i shall feel shooketh; also, I’m wondering what our darling ingenue will turn out to be. Something super special and unique, probably, because snowflakeeeee

* what is with these books always taking the time to describe the clothes the characters are wearing – bitch I don’t know what a Gucci sweater looks like, do I look rich to you

* so much shady shit is happening around this girl and she’s more oblivious than a baby chicken

* to be continued – may I just add that this book is like 500 pages long and my only questions is why, pray tell, the fuck

[timeforelfnonsense]

Bound

Dafni x Astartion || Rating: E (very spicy: See Ao3 tags for a run down ) || Ao3 || Sunshine & Starlight: My on going bg3 series  

Notes: Sub & dom Astarion all in one fic? Maybe so. Shadowheart's off-handed line about the PC tying her up if she started to turn inspired this filth (I'm sure she'd be loathed to know that). I'm also a fan of the sexy misuse of spells and hadn't written femme dom in a while. It was a perfect storm. Evlish Translations: Qu tel sy- Bindings of the wilds

Astarion watched Dafni’s dainty fingers casually trace an arcane pattern in the empty space before her. 

“Qu tel sy” Her voice wavered a bit in its attempt at sounding commanding. 

Cute.

Tendrils of jasmine vine sprung from the earth below him winding up his biceps binding him at the wrist. He’d heard her make a sharp quip about tying Shadowheart up that afternoon. The comment had worked his way into his mind. He was normally much more interested in taking the lead but the idea of playful, defiant Dafni taking control was rather enticing. A fantasy worth indulging in at least once. 

“Comfy?” She asked, her head tilting to one side. 

“Very.” 

With a nod, she began to leisurely undress herself. His hungry gaze followed her dainty fingers as they came to the tan leather straps that kept her breastplate fastened. She took her time with each buckle admiring the tiny floral etchings as if they were the most fascinating thing in the world. Slowly she shrugged herself free. Carefully laying it down beside her long sword and bow. Next, she set herself to the thin metal plates that protected her knees, removing them and adding them to the neat pile. 

“You are taking forever, Daffodil.” He complained.

“I could go slower?” She retorted leaning over as she slid her hands down her thigh to her cave. 

“No. No, take your time I’ll just be making a mental note of what a terrible pricktease you are being.”

Dafni rolled her eyes, tugging off her boots. Her fingers toyed with the laces of her breaches before moving to the pearl buttons at the wrist of her tapered bell sleeve. 

“I’ve been thinking about something you said the other day.” She mused, halting her undressing once more, “Can you really not see your own reflection?” Astarion let out a frustrated breath. He should have expected her to drag it out. The little puck! Really he’d walked right into this. He tried to pull his hands free of their bindings so he could have her and be done with this gods’ damned teasing but she only waved her hand casually, causing the vines to pull him firmly to the ground. “My, my someone is impatient! I believe I asked a question?” 

“I really can’t.” 

“So, you don’t know what you look like?” She inquired. 

“I’m sure right now I look rather annoyed.” He quipped back.

“I’m being serious.” 

Oh no. 

Not the pout! 

Her lower lip jut out ever so slightly. Her eyebrows began to stitch and his heart threatened to melt into a puddle. He was certain she knew he’d cave if she gave him that look. He had been able to resist when they’d first met but lately that quivering lip was a sure-fire path to getting her way.

“Ugh- Alright! I'll indulge you! Little brat...” He said with a stroppy huff, “I have a general idea of how I looked before. Lacking any evidence to the contrary, I just assume I look amazing.” 

“Dear me!” She tuted with a chime of silver-toned laughter, “So cocksure. You satisfied my curiosity-” A coy smile flashed across her face, “For now anyway. I think that deserves a reward.”

She brought her hands behind her neck unbuttoning collar, tugging her blouse over the top of her head. Astarion gave a weak attempt at silencing a low snicker as the fabric got caught on the long line of her ears in her haste. An adorable pink bloomed across the apples of her rounded cheeks. Her fingers returned to the satin ribbon at the front of her pants once more, shimmying her wide, seductive hips as she slipped them off. 

His breath caught in his chest as he drank her in. She was eternal in the warm candlelight. A goddess all his own. Plump curves. Full breasts. Her loose curls cascading down her back like a river of rose petals. Freckles like flecks of gold covering her soft, kissable skin. She looked like a dream, dressed in nothing but her smalls and the crescent pendant that hung from her neck. The cool evening air danced across her bare sink prompting a tiny shiver from Dafni. Her nipples hardened as goosebumps broke out across her exposed skin. 

“You are outstandingly beautiful, to confirm your suspicions.” She hummed straddling his hips. He could feel her warm core against his length through the thin fabric of her panties. He pressed himself against her, rocking slowly against her cotton clad folds. She gave a delighted squeak, wiggling against the solid pressure of his erection. “ I wish I could draw so you could see for yourself. Unfortunately, I’m hopeless with bush and canvas. I am quite good with gab, however. I could paint you a picture with words instead? Would you like that?”  

He’d be lying if he claimed to have never been curious about his own appearance. He had a few memories of his mortal countenance. But like the majority of his past time and torment had left them hazy and abstract. He’d definitely had a little more color in life. He could recall being fair but not quite so cadaverously pale. His eyes would have been the most severe change, save the fangs. He’d seen the same haunting scarlet in the irises of every vampiric creature he’d met. He flitted through his thoughts trying to recall their previous color. Knowing Dafni she’d eventually ask him, if not now later on one of her whimsical larks. He was somewhat sure they had been green? Her offer seemed more and more appealing as his mind shifted through faint, crumbing memories. It would be fascinating to hear what parts of him she’d taken particular notice of. Moreover, Dafni had the remarkable ability to see the absolute best in everything. His appearance would likely be much the same and what man wouldn’t want the object of his desire to spoil him with compliments? 

“Go on.” He affirmed with another eager roll of his hips against the growing wetness between her legs.

“Very well. You have a strong, angular jaw and perfect cheekbones. You have a little birthmark riiiiiight- Here!” Dafni explained, noting the spot on his cheek with a peck, “You have the most heartbreakingly handsome grin I’ve ever seen. Your nose is very straight. I can tell you weren’t in many bar fights!” She giggled, tapping the tip of his nose with her index finger. Astarion scrunched his nose in response prompting another musical laugh from Dafni. Followed by a long, slow kiss to his lips. He slid the edge of his tongue along the seam of her lips. A dissatisfied curse escaped him as she pulled back. Dafni only continued to beam with bemusement at his wanting.  She brought a hand to a stray lock of hair that had fallen into his face. She wound the curl around her fingertip before sliding her fingers through his hair. Tugging softly at the root as she pushed it back. “Your hair is the color of moonlight. Your eyes are my favorite, though. So striking… The color of fine claret. Expressive too! If I want to know your mood I can always see it in your eyes. Or by the tips of your ears. They go pink when you are flustered. It’s faint but I’ve spent enough time admiring you to notice.” She nibbled his ear to emphasize her point, drawing a quiet whimper from Astarion. She kissed her way back down his body pausing on the hollow of his neck and collar bones. “You’ve always reminded me of the statues of the first elves we had in Peleira. Awe-inspiring figures cut from marble and alabaster. Trim and regal just like you.” She slid off his hips, kidding each rib on the right side of his body before settling between his thighs. Her soft hand wrapping around his member. A needy growl fell from his lips as she began her lazy pumping. She let out a playful chime of laughter before running her tongue along the underside of his shaft. “And of course your cock is absolutely glorious! So long with a slight curve that hits all my secret places. While I’m not the inexperienced maiden you hilariously mistook me for but, you do make me feel as if I were. You make sex feel new and exciting, Astarion. You make my life exciting all around. Normally my fancies come and go with haste, but I can’t imagine myself ever growing bored with you. I’ve never had a lover hold my attention as you do.”

Her adoring plaudits were overwhelming. Each comment was painfully sincere. Her free hand drifted between her own legs. The licentious mewls she made as her fingers toyed with herself made him even harder. His mind was swimming with desire. He wanted nothing more than to plunge into her snug, wet sheath. She must have seen the hunger in his expression. His body went taut as he felt her soft lips around him. Gods he wanted to touch her! To sink his fingers into her soft curls while she worshiped his cock. His hips bucked against her mouth as instinct took over. The sweet vibration of her giggle sending a shiver down his spine. He almost didn’t notice the feeling of more plant life ensnaring him, ankle to the shin. He could feel himself swiftly approaching the brink as she teases his tip.

“Daffodil…” His voice came out in a strained whisper, “You’ll need to stop soon. I’d still like to have you in other ways.” With a hum of understanding, she removed him from her mouth with a soft pop. Her thumbs hooked the edges of her underwear removing it in one quick movement. His wrist strained against his bindings as he attempted to reach for her hips. “Wait a moment. I want to taste you first.”

“You want me to unbind you?” She asked.

“I didn’t say that.” He chuckled a playful half-smile on his lips.

“Oh.”

Dafni’s belly flipped when she heard his request. The embers of confidence smothered by her own insecurities. She’d had her fair share of lovers between her thighs but she’d never like...That. Astarion was so lithe. She didn’t want to smother him! 

“You can say no, darling.” He reassured, “However if you are worried about hurting me, don’t be.”

Nibbling her lower lip as a hot flush broke out across her naked body. “How did you know?” 

“You have the same needlessly embarrassed look on your face as you did when I picked you up in the forest.” He sighed, continuing, “It's fairly common anxiety as well. I promise I’ll be perfectly fine. Besides if you accidentally suffocate me you’ll have to go fetch an emergency revivify scroll from Shadowheart and the thought of her reaction when you told her how I died is positively delightful!” 

Dafni tried to hold in her laughter but it came out in a snort, “You are awful! What if she wanted to see your body?”

“Gods, I hope she would! Can you imagine her shock? Finding me all tressed up in jasmine after meeting my untimely end betwixt your gorgeous thighs!” He stated with a mirthful grin, “This all hypothetical of course. I fully expect you’ll be the only one to experience a little death from sitting on my face.”

Dafni felt her nerves steadying with his gentle taunting. She couldn’t decide if she was touched or mortified that he’d taken note of her insecurities. She’d never voiced them but he had been perspective enough to notice the little changes in her demeanor. He had a knack for catching on to the little things other people tried to hide. Part of the ‘wiles’ that had kept him alive for the past few centuries. She supposed his perceptiveness was the flip side of his secretary. Both had been informed by a difficult life.

She brushed her lips against his. Their foreheads pressed against one another. “Alright.”

Dafni steeled herself as she settled her thighs on either side of him. Ever so slowly she lowered herself towards his smirking mouth. 

Oh wow.

All the worry slipped away with the first pass of his cool tongue along her slit. A lewd gasp broke free from her as he sealed his lips over her clit. Sucking and teasing her to delirium. Her hips grew a will of their own rocking forward, chasing the electrifying sensation. Her squirming only seemed to embolden him. His attention shifted to the mouth of her arousal. His tongue eagerly exploring her dripping center. Her confidence returning with each dizzying lick. She thought she’d feel ridiculous perched on top of him. The sight of Astarion happily ravaging her with his mouth left her feeling empowered and needy.

“Gods that’s good!” She whimpered rutting against him, “I-Wow… I kind of want to keep you here a forever.” She tugged at the roots of his soft curls pulling him deeper into her arousal. Promoting a delighted purr from Astarion as he continued to lap away at her quim. “Keep going! I’m so close...Ah! Astarion! Please! More!” A few more skillful sweeps of his tongue and the hot coil of building pleasure snapped loose. She hadn’t meant for the lamentation that followed to come out at such a high volume. She normally tried to be courteous of their friends. It was close quarters and they would likely not enjoy her keening half as much as Astarion did. She bit down her lip quieting another cry as the tempest of exaltation mixed with the sharp sensation of his teeth on her inner thigh. After a few swallows, he brushed his lips over the wound in a chaste kiss. She climbed down from her seat, flopping down on his cool chest. Her breath coming out in ragged heaves. “That was life-changing.”

She glanced up finding him staring with even more hunger than usual. His chin shimmering with slick. Lips stained red by her blood and his eyes alight with impatient longing.

“Years of practice.” He stated with a wicked grin, “Now if you’d be kind enough to free me, Daffodil? If I don’t have my way with you this instant, I might be driven mad.” 

She nodded climbing off his chest to receive one of his daggers from his things. She carefully cut away the blossoms and vines that held him prone. As soon as the blade cleared the twist of greenery, he pounced, laying her out on her stomach.  Dafni let out a peal of amusement, propping herself up slightly on her elbows. Astarion ran his finger along her slit, causing her to shiver. A dark, desirous sound rumbled in his chest as he sunk two fingers into her, “Still a little sensitive, are we? There is still nectar dripping from your flower down the back of your legs. I knew you’d enjoy your little ride. I certainly did. You’re so beautiful when you come undone. Squirming and squealing. Though, I wonder what the others will say now that they’ve heard you screaming my name like a trollop?” He let out a moan as Dafni clenched around his pumping fingers, “Should we see if I can get you to do it again?” 

Dafni cried out as he impaled her with one urgent push. His hips met her’s with a smack before he withdrew almost completely. She whined at the emptiness, relief washing over her as he resheathed himself with another unyielding shove. It seemed being unable to touch her had inspired a carnal frustration he was desperate to satisfy. He gathered her loose hair up in one hand, yanking her back as he continued to pound into her. He hissed as Dafni brought her thighs closer together, savoring the hardness of his length inside her. 

“Tell me again, tart.” He demanded wrenching her back to look at him, “Tell me how I make you feel like a vestal maid with my ‘glorious cock’.” 

“For you, I am reduced to a lusty, untouched damsel.” She confirmed pushing her backside against him.

“Indeed you are.” He released his grip on her curls, bringing his hands to rest on the swell of her hip tugging her even closer.

He growled his approval before sinking his teeth into the warm hollow of her throat. With each sip, she felt his heart fall into step with her own. It was a strange sort of intimacy that felt a bit metaphorical. Cold, wicked, Astarion’s undead heart lurching to life. Beating in perfect time with her own as she coursed through him. Dafni knew it was a silly, romantic notion but that could hardly be helped. Especially when he was ravaging her with such vigor. Her second climax flourished as he pressed himself against her just so. She convulses under him, tears streaming down her cheeks. Astarion tore himself away from her neck, incarnadine eyes burning ravenous with a mix of thirst and fearsome wanton need. 

He shouldn’t have bitten her again. It was a rash, risky choice, especially when he was already frenzied with lust. That first taste from her thigh had been the most exquisite yet. The sweetness of her blood mingling with the earthy tang of her slick had been transcendent. The soft, sunny, joy he’d experienced when feeding on her in the past had been replaced with a blinding exaltation that had nearly finished him off untouched. If the first bite had been transcendent the second had felt like finding himself in Arvandor itself. It took no small amount of will power to chase off his instinct to drink her dry.

As he beheld her writhing, buxom form an admission rushed out of him, “I never want anyone else to touch you again.”

Never?

Oh, gods, that was a fool thing to say! 

“I’m spoiled for all others.” She assured, “No one else could please me as you do.”

Her words ignited something base in him, pushing him to the edge. With a final crude thrust, he found his rapture, flooding her snug, soaking, heat with his release. All the while his thoughts rang loud with one word.

Mine.

 He lingered behind her for a while, his chest heaving and heart racing. He knew he must be a flustered mess and he didn’t really want her to see him like that. He’d already shown her too much. He squeezed his eyes shut. Composing himself before laying out beside Dafni.

 When his eyes fluttered back open he took stock of the scene before him. Dafni’s expression was somewhere between dazed and ecstatic. The wound on her neck was still dripping red. The one on her thigh had closed, turning a deep purple. His seed seeped from her entrance. His chest went tight, his cheeks a deep red. She was well and truly debauched.  

“Daffodil?” He said softly as he placed a tentative hand on her shoulder, “Are you ok, dear?” 

She blinked a few times before nodding, “I’m ok! Just a little woozy and overwhelmed, maybe? Kind of floaty.”

“Completely fair. That was...A lot. I might have gotten a bit carried away. Apologies.” He brushed the loose hair from her shoulder to get a better look at the puncture on her neck, “If you feel faint, you should eat something. Tell me what you’d like and I’ll fetch it from the camp’s stores?”

“Some water would be nice and maybe an orange? I think we have some left from the druids.” Dafni turned to her side, cozying up beside him. She looked up at him through curling pink lashes. Her mossy brown eyes expressing an uncharacteristic shyness. “After I have my snack, could maybe I stay with you again tonight? You can say no! I won’t be offended. I understand that you like your space and I don't want to be clingy! I-I’m just feeling a little vulnerable after all that and I don’t think I could handle a walk of shame right now…” 

It always stung to hear that she expected him to throw her out as soon as the deed was done. He supposed she had every right to after his attempt to leave her alone in the woods that first night. It should have been clear to her he enjoyed her company by now. Hadn’t she noticed all of the parts of himself he’d conceded to her? He’d told her about Cazador- Not everything but more than he thought he’d be willing to share with another person. He let her linger in his personal space and hold his hand almost constantly. He watched out for her when she was too blinded by her own generosity to do it herself. He had even admitted how important her well being had become to his own! And still, she assumed he’d toss her out into the night. 

“Of course you can stay,” He scowled tuting his disapproval as he spoke, “I just assumed you would start staying with me after I invited you to the other night. Apparently, I should have been more clear. Unless I tell you otherwise, you are always welcome to stay with me, Daffodil. So please stop acting as if I’m some cold-hearted dastard? It’s offensive and it bruises my ego.” 

“You mean it?” She chirped a blinding grin across her winsome features, “I can stay here whenever?”

He groaned, “Yes. I know you don’t like trancing alone and I like having you around. It makes sense for us to share quarters. If I need space I’m sure you’ll know. Now I’m going to get your food and water before you swoon from bloodloss or over-excursion.” 

[curlymantis]

aaaa pls tell me stuff abt your ocs they're all so cool!! 🥺💚

Omg I finally finished answering this!!!!! 👀👀

Farcry 5: Zoë Seed!!

Omg that’s me 😏 she was an entomologist checking out the cool insects of Hope county and unfortunately for her she doesn’t believe in private property when it comes to discovering nature. One day chosen find her trespassing on John seeds property. They think she’s a spy for the resistance as she has a camera, binoculars etc. They take her to the main church (conveniently was a Sunday) once service is over shes handed over to the father and himself and John go through her camera. They only find insect pictures and omg wow she’s not a spy. She’s indoctrinated into the cult and ends up eventually becoming John’s right hand of god 😌🙏 sinners who happen to be an extra annoyance go to her where she makes them confess in whatever way possible. Or they die in the process, whoops 💅🏻 She’s polyamorous with all of the seed siblings including Faith cos like come on now let’s be real they all crave and need loving. However she’s married to John Seed because that baby boy is everything 😤❤️ She also likes to do cult posters and help write songs and sing them cos it’s fun as hell. She is closest with John and Faith Seed specifically out of the 4 Seeds. Other cultists are scared of her, or is it respect? Hmm who knows 😌 She also tortures sinners for fun and chases them around the forest making them as shit scared as possible. Oops 😏

The Magnus Archives: is my oc who is an Avatar of the eye and Rayn Porter is my oc who a avatar of the corruption. They both have the same last name as they are both the same person just if they had gone down different entity routes in their life. I’ll talk about Rose first! (I also have an avatar of the flesh and the vast but I haven’t worked on them yet or got them ‘fully fleshed out’ 😏

Rose Porter: avatar of the Eye, marked by the stranger, the spiral and the vast.

From an early age Rose always felt the need to watch people, to know, to understand. As she got older these feelings only became stronger and she begins to stalk people, not because she finds that person special for any particular reason they just happened to look to long at her and she saw them doing so. That just sets something off In her so now they must be followed, acknowledged, understood and scrutinised (me self projecting right into my ocs 😌). She found the Magnus institute one day as she started stalking Rosie. when she had seen the woman walking into a large glorious building she knew something was off, like the itching feeling you get, the feeling in your gut, the sensation of something important. She did not know what had over come her to walk in the building so quickly as that would ruin her chances of learning further about this person who dared make her feel so uncomfortable. But there she was. She was hired immediately of course as a librarian, then moving on the be an archival assistant, shocking to her. But obviously not to Elias Bouchard who knew just how useful her alignment to his almighty beholder. To say she had a crush on him would be an understatement. She can’t explain it. Some would call infatuation, some would call it chemistry, but smart ones say it’s because they are both devotees to the eye and she is in so much deeper than she has ever anticipated or even realises 👀

Rayn Porter: avatar of the corruption, marked by the flesh, the lonely and the stranger.

Rayn despises people (same queen 🙄) they put animals on a higher level of respect than humans. The corruption took ahold of them as a young child, they would always follow and play with cockroaches as a child. However their mother was to say the least an unempathetic, transphobic and cruel woman to say the least. Rayn was raised in a household full of scrutiny, hate and fear. Because of this had very little friends as the only social interaction they knew was their bitch ass mother they turned to the ‘pests’ of their home. Whether these were the slugs and snails in the basement of their home, or they were the cockroaches, house centipedes and rats that dwelled in their attic. They loved and appreciated them all, but their was still something deeper to it. A deep rot had started to form in Rayn and they hated their mother and family. They hated them for how they had cast them aside for not being female, they hated them for all the mistreatment they had faced as a child. The rot started small, a odd old smell that started to lurk around Rayn. Eventually others would notice the smell but would shrug it off as the smell would soon be covered by the smell of Rayns chain smoking. Then one day Rayn was staring in mirror poking at their face and squeezing. They found a sore on her face and squeezed it, pus comes out but something moves underneath. They squeeze harder and something wriggles forth, it’s a very small, juvenile cockroach, streaked slightly in something slimey. As you can imagine that fucked them up a bit, but they learnt to embrace it. Learnt to love that crawling away just underneath their skin are thousands of little legs connected to cockroach’s of many sizes. Sometimes if not managed roaches will find themselves sneaking out of nostrils, mouth and ears. Sometimes even out from behind her eyes. One way they feed the corruption is they set forth the filth at a selected location. All it takes is for them to place a cockroach down in a building and within a week there will be a infestation so strong causing the people in said building to be taken down with it. The Cockroaches will feed on those that they can over power and The Corruption always needs feeding... (Also just want to add cockroaches themselves aren’t actually dirty, they’re actually obsessive cleaners. the locations they live in are dirty)

Telltale Batman- Roz Traegers:

first encounter with John Doe (the eventually to be known Joker) was at the bar he frequented. They had never once seen him drink a drop of alcohol. He would order beer constantly for his alcoholic sure but never consume it himself. Aside from his alabaster white skin nothing about him seemed out of the ordinary to them. Well except the fact he liked to stare, a lot. You would constantly worry it’s because he was just judging you based on your appearance (a lot of people do) however John just likes to stare at people and found you interesting for some reason (cliches I know, but me and John Doe are basically the same person and I like to think he’d think I’m interesting). Roz has a great dislike towards the people John works with, they don’t appreciate how badly they treat him. Especially Harley. John is so obsessed with Harley and she treats him like absolute shit. Roz had a plan to get Harley arrested, however John found out and threatened to never speak to Roz again. Roz has a soft spot for Mr Freeze specifically from the gang also.

Vampyr: Rose Pine

works as an assistant to Camellia at the florist. Rose isn’t a very chatty person and has had quite a traumatic up bringing. Her mother, sister and father are all unfortunately deceased. Her father killed her mother, then sister, then Rose, then turned the knife on himself. Rose survived her injuries (hence the scar on her throat) and was put out into the adoption system. Roses father believed he had been doing his family a service by taking their lives before they could be claimed by Ekons. Roses father had been a vampire believer long before they had even breeched the city. Rose always waves hello to Jonathan Reid when she sees him galavanting around. He always waves back and occasionally they will exchange a conversation. One evening they exchange more than just brief chit chat when Jonathan is required to save her from a group of feral Skals. Rose is very badly injured from her encounter and Jonathan ends up having to change the sweet little florist he sees most evenings into a Ekon. Rose is also good friends with Charlotte Ashbury and Charlottes mother Elisabeth. I haven’t played Vampyr in a wee while, I want to get back into it soon so plan on adding more to her story.

Outlast: Rosie Porter

Rosie worked as a live in psychiatrist for those at mount massive asylum. She lives on the premises that way patient can be attended to at any time. Her experiences throughout life gives her empathy for those that are locked up, that the other guards and majority of other staff just don’t have. Rosie has always been able to empathise with those who would be considered ‘evil’ whether she empathised out of her own sick fascination or because of her heart hurting too much is another question. Rosies favourite patients are Eddie Gluskin and Chris Walker. She was hired after Jeremy Blaire forcibly admitted Chris Walker. Rosie is enamoured with Eddie and he knows it. Knows he has his little psychologist wrapped around his finger. However Eddie would be a hypocrite if he said he also wasn’t wrapped around her finger. Rosie is forcibly committed to the asylum by Jeremy Blaire they start Project Walrider on the patients. Rosie was against it and threatened to blow the whistle on the whole thing (dumb idea) and Jeremy uses her as the first female Walrider test subject. Rosie has engaged in an affair with her boss Jeremy Blaire when she first started working there. Due to their past ‘hands on’ relationship, Rosie is allowed more time with her patients and allowed to be alone with her patients. This has allowed for her to further her work with her patients, as they’re quite open when the know they aren’t being openly judged by the security staff.

Hannibal: Jessi Trees

is a forensic entomologist who works alongside Beverly, Jimmy and Brian analysing dead people n shit. Jessi first met Will Graham on the scene of a crime when they had both been called out. It was the mushroom killer from memory as the soil was packed with invertebrates filled with evidence. Will has just finished doing his whole ‘this is my design’ when Jessi walks up to him and stands quietly beside him, where they say: “These fuckers are filled with worms and I don’t know shit about worms” Will Graham turns and looks at them like what the fuck? Those are dead people. Jessi merely shrugs, smirks and walks off. Jessi can be described by a lot of people as ‘a cold person’ or ‘indifferent’ but passionate. They dehumanise the corpses they’re working with at that’s the only way they can get justice for them. If they get too caught up in all the sadness of it, they can’t move forward from it. Jessi has a crush on Will Graham and Beverly Katz. Jessi questions Will and Hannibals relationship quietly from the background but never really comments.

Bonus character!! Stardew Valley: Zoë

This bad ass came all the way from Zuzu city in need of a better and different life. They inherit their grandfathers old farm and get it up and running. The town is filled with wonderful, amazing people. But of course Zoë has to want to become close friends with the person who hates me everyone: Shane (they’re kindred spirits, Shane isn’t aware of this however because he seems to think he’s the only person who can suffer from substance abuse and sever depression haha.) Shane hates them of course until they keep harassing him and he reasilizes she’s a lot more screwed up than he was aware. Zoë is close friends with Shane (ends up marrying him one day), Linus (I would fucking die for him and anyone who’s cruel to him gets my foot in the butthole), Leah (they hang out frequently and like to paint in the forest together), Emily (I have a massive crush on Emily haha, she’s so similar to me it’s great), is also friends with Sam’s dad and Jodis husband Kent (Kent suffers from PTSD and I’ve developed a lot of my own techniques to help with my own PTSD so we help each other out. Also Jodi I’m stealing your husband, just kidding, unless). Zoë’s favourite animals on her farm are her blue chickens (raised by Shane) and her horse Aaron. Zoë’s favourite yearly event is the moonlight jellies festival!

[trashscenariihxh]

Silva Zoldyck x fem!Reader

Here’s another commission!  Remember, if you commission me, I will personalize it for you.  If, and only if, you consent, I will post a generalized version on this blog with all identifying information removed.

Warnings: adultery, hinted pregnancy mention if you squint

You never got much notice when Silva was going to pay you a visit; more often than not, you got none at all.  He’d just show up on your doorstep, often letting himself in, and expect you to be ready for him.  When he let himself into your lavishly furnished apartment, you’d just stepped out of the bath.

There was something oddly out of place about seeing Silva Zoldyck sitting on a sofa; you imagined that such a mountain of a man would look more at home amidst piles of pelts and furs.  Yet here he was, perched on your finely upholstered sofa with all the absurdity of a tiger resting on a velvet pillow.

“Ah!  Silva, please wait just a moment.”  You threw a robe around yourself and hastily twisted your hair back.  Poking your head into the living room, you offered the large man an apologetic smile. “I didn’t know you were coming. Please, just give me a few minutes and I’ll get dressed.”

He shook his head. “Don’t bother, ____.”

“It will only take a—”

He silenced you with a raised finger.  “No need.” The faintest hint of a smile tugged at his lips.  “Come here.”

It didn’t sit right with you, not being completely made up, dressed and ready to receive him, especially after such a long time.  Still, you didn’t wish to displease him, so you joined him on the sofa.

“I’ve missed you,” you cooed, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him in for a kiss as you sat on his lap.

His lips were surprisingly soft for a man who killed people for a living, and his touches were much gentler than expected from a man of his size.  His hands ran over your silk-clad body, seemingly appreciating to the fabric. At least you hoped so.  He bought the robe for you, after all.

“I’m sorry I haven’t been around recently.”  Silva relaxed back into the sofa, still running a hand over your back.  “Things have been… hectic.”

You paused a moment, hoping that he’d elaborate.

“Work?” You ventured gently when Silva remained silent.

Silva’s brow creased as he closed his eyes.

“Family?” You didn’t want to press him too far, but the way he was slumped against the back of the couch made him look so tired, so worn out… you reached out to stroke his face.

“That’s none of your concern.”  Silva looked at you, eyes flashing with a cold warning for you to change the subject.

You knew better than to defy him.  Silva rarely discussed his family with you, and even when he did, it was only in passing. A forbidden topic.  You had no illusions about what you were to him, and you certainly didn’t expect anything to change.  You were there to provide comfort and pleasant diversions for him when the mood struck.

“Can I get you anything?” Knowing that to push him further would be pointless, you rose from his lap.  “Something to drink?”

He shook his head and grabbed your wrist, lightly tugging you back into his lap.  “Sit with me some more.”  

You allowed yourself to be pulled into his lap, sighing in contentment when he resumed running his hands over the contours of your body.  You reciprocated the action, gasping when he dipped to kiss your neck.  “Did you miss me?”

Silva only grunted in response, too distracted by the softness of your skin.

“Silva?”

“Of course.” He began to fiddle with your robe’s belt.

“Then why don’t you visit more often?”

He paused.  “You know why.”

“I wish I didn’t have to wait months between your visits.”  You closed your eyes and hummed when his lips brushed against your collarbone, and you arched into his touch when large rough hands palmed your breasts.

He growled into your skin, sucking and nipping with a delicacy ill-fitting of a man of his stature. His desire for you was palpable.  Silva’s body was a wall of unyielding muscle and sinew; you felt his skin ripple beneath your fingers as you undid his shirt.

“____,” he murmured as your fingers twisted in his hair.  Lust had hoarsened his voice; your name fell from his lips again and again as he sucked bruises into your skin.

Hearing the want in his voice made excitement swell in your chest.  You often worried that the day would come when Silva decided not to come back to you; knowing, feeling that he wanted you so badly even now quelled those fears.  As you eagerly, gratefully, accepted Silva’s affection, you became increasingly aware of a growing desire to please him.  To serve.

“Baby,” you cooed, smiling to yourself at the way he tensed at the nickname, “here, let me…”  With more difficulty than you chose to let on, you extricated yourself from Silva’s grasp.  Satisfaction blossomed within you at Silva’s growl of protest.  “Shhh,” you soothed, giving him a quick peck on the lips before kneeling before him, gently parting his legs so you could fit between them. His cock was already half-hard when you freed it from its confines; you coaxed it to full hardness with long, well-practiced strokes.

Silva’s groan when you took him into your mouth was barely perceptible, but you felt it vibrating within him, in his chest, his cock, your mouth.  You swirled your tongue around the sensitive head of his cock, lapping at the ridges and licking along the veins that ran down the shaft.  His hand came to rest on the back of your head, providing gently insistent encouragement to you as you closed your lips around the head and sucked.  

It’s an interesting thing, you thought, the way even the most taciturn of men will dissolve into puddle of groans and growls as soon as their cock hits the back of someone’s throat. Silva was certainly no exception; his fingers interlaced with your hair and tightened around it as he resisted the urge to fuck your pretty face.

His cock was far too large for your mouth to take, but by God, you tried.  Your head bobbed up and down his length, your hand wrapped around the base and stroking what your mouth couldn’t reach.  Pride surged through you when he murmured your name again in a strained whisper.  

Did his wife do this for him?  Had she ever? Silva rarely spoke about his family, but you’d gathered that any passion between him and his wife had dissipated after nearly three decades and five children, if there had been any to begin with.

You continued to suck, resisting the desire to further compare yourself to a woman you’d never met. After all, it was your name Silva was gasping, your hair he was pulling, your body he was so hungrily looking at.

A light tug at your hair brought you back to the present.

“____,” Silva said softly, looking down at you and lightly stroking your cheek, “enough for now.”

Obediently, you pulled back, releasing his cock from your mouth with a slick pop.  You looked up at him, marveling at the way he towered over you, even while seated.  

Silva seemed pleased with your adoration.  He tilted your chin back and pressed the pad of his thumb against your lower lip, smiling when your tongue flicked out to lick it.

“Get undressed,” he ordered. “Go to the bedroom.”

The way his pupils dilated when you stood and let your robe fall to the floor to reveal yourself was almost as satisfying as the way his cock twitched at the sight.  You knew then that he had in fact missed you.  Or at least, his body had.  

Naked, you made your way to the bedroom, Silva following close behind.  You half-expected him to sweep you up and carry you the rest of the way, but he clearly enjoyed watching you walk in front of him too much to expedite the process.

“What’s the wait?”  You lied down on the bed, cocking an impatient eyebrow at the assassin as he slowly began to undress himself.

“Nothing.”  Silva smiled tightly as he slid his pants down and stepped out of them to join you on the bed.  “I just don’t like to rush these things.” He parted your legs and settled between them, mouth at your neck again as his cock pressed insistently at your opening.  “You’re already wet,” he observed, kissing just below your ear.

“It’s been months,” you answered, wrapping your legs around him and drawing him in closer.  “Stop stalling!”

Silva gave a snort of laughter.  “So impatient,” he chided as if he himself wasn’t already achingly hard.  He sat up suddenly, sitting back on his knees and looking at you spread out before him.  As he reached out to stroke your clit you stopped him with a firm grip on his wrist.

“Don’t.”  Your eyes met his.  “I want you now, Silva.”

He gave you a bemused look before conceding with a shrug and settling on top of you again, lining himself up with your slick entrance.  He slid in easily; you closed your eyes and clawed at the skin of his shoulders as you stretched to accommodate his girth.  As much as you hated his long absences, the sting of stretching around him never failed to send proverbial shivers down your spine.  He only paused for a moment, generously giving you time to adjust to him before giving a short, hard thrust.

You dug your heels into his thighs, moaning out his name as he proceeded to pound the coherence out of you. His balls, large and heavy, slapped against your ass with each thrust.  Silva always made you feel too full, too stretched; his cock was right on the edge of being too much.  And yet… you whimpered as your fingers, desperate for something to grasp, scrabbled against his back as his hips continued to rock against you.  He always fucked you hard enough to leave you sore for days, the ache a tingling reminder of his cock.  You relished it.

Your teeth grazed against his shoulder, earning  a warning growl from the man on top of you.  You longed to bite him, to mark him, to taint alabaster with the purples and reds of a bruise, but you dared not.  It was forbidden.

You came unexpectedly, crying out as your inner walls spasmed and clamped down around Silva’s cock. He gave a grunt of approval, gritting out your name and biting the junction of your neck and shoulder hard enough to break the skin.  There were no restrictions when it came to marking you.  Silva gave a few more relentless, heaving thrusts before slamming in as deep as he could and filling you with his release.

You felt his body relax against yours as he recovered, his tongue lapping lazily against your broken skin. “Mmm…” you hummed in satisfaction, wrapping your arms around his neck and idly twisting strands of his hair around your fingers.  “Stay with me tonight, Silva.”

He gave a deep rumbling sigh and pushed himself up, peering down at you with icy blue eyes.  “____…”

“Please,” you begged, hooking your legs around him and attempting to pull him down onto you.  “I never get to see you anymore.”  You pulled him back down, pressing soft kisses to his jaw and cheek.  “Please.”

He sighed again and kissed you, letting his tongue trail briefly along your bottom lip before rolling off of you. “You know I can’t stay.” He ran a hand lazily over your body, your breasts, your abdomen, your sensuously full hips.  “Not tonight.”

“But why not?”

“You know why.”

“Ah, of course.”  You scowled, doing nothing to hide the bitterness in your voice.  “Your family.”  You spat out the word as if it left a foul taste in your mouth.  In truth, all it left was a pang of emptiness in your chest.

“Is that what’s upsetting you?” Silva exhaled sharply before resting his hand on your soft abdomen. “I can give you a family of your own, if you want.”

Did you want one?  The idea had crossed your mind before, but only briefly.

“Think on it.” Silva’s hand was warm on your belly as he softly kissed the top of your head.

You certainly would.

[cosmic-hearts]

castles in the air | lee donghyuck | three

lee donghyuck x female reader

genre; enemies-to-lovers, friendship, romance, fluff, angst

warnings; none

foreword; in which you might be a real-life princess with a prince promised to you right from the start, but you won’t be getting your happy ever after. 

<< previous chapter | next chapter >>

Over the next couple of dates, it’s like a switch has been flicked in your relationship with Donghyuck. You could finally say with confidence that he’s a friend, and you’re grateful for this time with him; it feels like you’re both catching up on all the lost years. 

Sure, he made fun of you constantly for that obnoxious heart-shaped Prada Odette Heart Bag you always carried around with you for casual dates, and for wearing Dior sneakers on the rare days you weren’t in heels. God, that bag looks like it’s for a twelve-year old. And who the hell wears Dior sneakers? I didn’t even know freaking Dior sold sneakers. You tried explaining to him that it was an AF1xDior collaboration special but that didn’t soften his judgement in any way, so you settled for calling him an uncultured jerk. And there was the time he got gravy on your prized pink bag and you nearly stabbed him with your butter knife.

But there were sweeter times too. When he was feeling generous and perhaps more than a little sentimental, he sang you songs as you two sat on the hood of his car, soaking up the moonlight. These days were rare and therefore exceedingly precious, and though you’d never tell him, you cherished them deeply. His voice whisked you away from this sublunary world, to a place filled with the breath of angels and flights of fancy, a place where you could build castles in the air and wonder what it would be like if what you had with Donghyuck was real. 

You love every second with him. 

That said, you’re already regretting your decision to go with Donghyuck to his senior high prom. Even your coveted Sadek Majed Summer Spring Couture gown (literally woven with all the blessings of spring) isn’t enough to keep anxiety from clawing its way through the perfectly fitted waistline. It might have something to do with the fact that you’ve never actually been to a prom before. 

It doesn’t get any better when you step into his school and all eyes are on you. Perhaps it’s your gown; you had a feeling you’d overdone it this time. You knew it from the moment you got into Donghyuck’s car and his jaw literally dropped. When you asked him what was wrong, he looked away, cleared his throat and gripped the steering wheel unnecessarily hard without bothering to reply. You knew maybe you’d taken it a little too far, but you didn’t think you looked that bad. 

Donghyuck brings you to the auditorium, then promptly abandons you in search of Jaemin. You’d expected as much—Lee Donghyuck may have the voice of an angel, but he most certainly isn’t one. 

You sip your glass of punch, and when you set it down you see someone’s come to sit opposite you. 

“Hi,” she says, eyes curving into crescents, “I think we’ve met before.”

You take a good look at the girl; she’s dressed in a baby blue rafaela dress, obsidian locks tumbling across her shoulders, a sharp contrast to her alabaster complexion. 

“Oh, that’s right,” you say, eyes widening in recognition, “Sohui, right? Donghyuck’s girlfriend?”

“Yup,” she says, “I just wanted to say thank you for that day. When you spoke up for me… I really appreciated it.”

You smile. “It’s no problem. Don’t worry about it.”

Sohui scoots over to sit next to you. “I absolutely love your dress. It’s so pretty.”

“Thanks. I really like yours too.”

Silence ensues for a moment, then she says, “Actually, I wanted to talk to you about something.”

“Sure, what is it?” “It’s about Donghyuck.” 

Your grip on your glass tightens just the slightest. Of course it would be about Donghyuck. 

“I just wanted to ask, when will this whole fake dating thing end? I know I might seem like a really jealous girlfriend right now, but… I’m actually asking for Donghyuck.”

For Donghyuck? “I’m not sure,” you reply truthfully, “but I can try to speed things up. I’m sorry about having to hog him like this; I know it’s not easy for you both.”

Her perfect face almost melts with relief. “Thank you,” she says, “that would be great. Donghyuck’s just been really stressed lately and I’m worried about him.”

“If you don’t mind me asking, why has he been stressed? Did he say something?”

Sohui sighs, her shoulders falling into a slump. “I’m not sure if I should tell you this.”

“Don’t worry, I won’t say anything to him if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“Okay then. I don’t know how to put this any other way, but… it might be because of you.”

And then she tells you. She finally tells you the reason why Donghyuck had spent the majority of his life hating you. 

Your expression never once falters, not even a bit. Not even when Donghyuck returns and you witness his face light up at the sight of his real girlfriend.

You will not falter. 

—

“Hey,” Donghyuck says, his voice filling the silence that had been permeating the car all the way back. “You’re being unusually quiet today.” 

You fiddle with the embroidered flowers sewn into your dress, iridescent in the shaft of moonlight streaming through the car window. Tonight, even the beautiful artistry of fashion fails to make you smile.

“I’m just tired.”

Donghyuck laughs. “I didn’t ever think you could run out of energy at events like these. You always looked so perfectly put together at every single social function. Unlike me. God, I always found it all so tiring. I could never understand how you did it.”

You didn’t know me, you bite back the urge to say, just like how I still don’t know you. 

It seems like years pass before he reaches your house, and for once, you can’t wait to bolt out of the car, to run as far away from him as possible.

“By the way, I wanted to tell you something.”

You respond with a questioning glance. Donghyuck’s gaze darts away from you and he rubs the back of his neck awkwardly. 

“When I first saw you just now… I didn’t think you looked bad at all. Really.”

Your heart stills for a moment. 

“I thought you looked... really pretty. I mean, you still look… really pretty, of course.”

You give him a polite smile, say thank you and goodnight, step out of the car and walk away until you hear the sound of the engine revving. 

It is then that you finally fall apart. 

“His hatred for you… it’s because he feels that you’re tying him down. Holding him back from all the things he wants to achieve. He told me that he hated you because he was made to marry you from the start and he viewed this marriage as a prison. He feels that you’re taking his freedom away from him.”

Your head spins.

“So you can probably see… having to spend all this time with you… it’s taking a toll on him. I think for his sake, you should end it soon.”

You let out a bitter chuckle at your own hypocrisy—you wanted to help him reach for the stars, but you’re the one who’s chaining him to the ground. 

Your house stands before you like a castle gleaming in the starlight. You sigh, a soft sound that escapes immediately into the darkness.

All this time, you were merely building castles in the air. How naive of you to believe that what you and Donghyuck had could ever be real. 

But you’re strong and you don’t need anyone, you tell yourself. You close your eyes, imagining the moonlight washing away the pain, the starlight making you new and whole again. You’ll be ready to make things right; it’s the least you can do for Donghyuck.

And you? You’ll be okay. You always are. 

—

“Darling, you look absolutely fabulous.”

You won’t demur or say otherwise, not when you actually do think you look ready to rule the goddamn universe tonight. 

You decided on a dress from POEM Couture’s autumn-winter collection, and you really do think you look like a dream, ethereal almost. Your hair is put up in a low tendril twist bun with curled wisps escaping from the knot, framing the sides of your face. 

You’re about to head downstairs to check in on the decorations when your phone screen lights up with a message. 

From: hyuck

happy birthday, see u later ;) mayhaps i got u a present

Jaw tightening, you put your phone facedown on your desk.

Don’t ruin your makeup, you say sternly to yourself, swallowing harshly to get rid of the sudden thickness in your throat. 

You just need to get through this night and everything will be okay again. 

—

“Ladies and gentlemen, thank you so much for being here to celebrate my daughter’s 18th birthday with us today.”

Donghyuck looks out at the sea of people in stiff suits and designer dresses, and pulls uncomfortably at his necktie. How many of these people do you actually know, he wonders? They’re probably your parents’ colleagues, friends, rivals, people they wanted to show you off to. They’re milling about at your birthday celebration, making polite, small talk and pretending like they actually want to be here. 

“Y/N has always been the most perfect child,” your mother coos into the mic, “and we’re so lucky to have her as our daughter. Today is a very special day; our daughter has grown up into a beautiful young lady, with a beautiful mind of her own. And I’m so happy that she has finally found the one for her to blossom through her eighteenth year with.” She sends a wink in Donghyuck’s direction, and he offers back a weak smile while his own parents look proudly on. 

He wonders where you are, and why you haven’t replied to his text. Then again, he imagines that you must be absolutely swamped with preparations for today. He makes a mental note to go find you later so he can pass you your present in private. 

“All right, I won’t delay this anymore. After all, this is my daughter’s night, not mine. Everyone, I present to you, Y/N!”

Like magic, you appear from the shadows of the upper wing and all goes quiet. 

Donghyuck’s eyes widen. 

He doesn’t know much about fashion, but it doesn’t take much to realize that you’re dressed to kill tonight. The midnight purple bodice of your gown fades out into a lush pink in a glorious ombre, like twilight melding with a rosy sunrise. Your hair is delicately tied in a low bun, curly wisps gently kissing the sides of your face. Under the luminous light of the chandelier above, your skin is aglow with radiance, eyes aflame with a sparkle that takes his breath away. 

As you descend the grand staircase, a hand on the gold rail, a regal aura is composed around you and time seems to stop. Donghyuck swears he can hear several sharp intakes of breath.

You look just like a princess. 

You look like you have the blood of a royal running through your veins. If Donghyuck has the ability to command and captivate with his voice, you too have that same ability, but with your mere presence. 

“Oh, my darling daughter,” your mother gushes, arms extended towards you. She raises a hand towards Donghyuck, signalling him to come over. 

“I’m so glad you two are finally together. I mean, we knew it would happen all along, but now that it’s finalized, I can rest assured,” she announces, and Donghyuck finds that he can scarcely lift his eyes to meet yours; you’re simply too dazzling.

The crowd erupts into applause, and at first it is low, quiet him, but it soon morphs into a collective cheer, “Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!”

You cast a despairing glance at your mother, trying to convey to her the sheer impropriety of such a notion, but she merely winks at you and whispers, “Don’t worry, we’re not all that old-fashioned.”

Unconsciously, you grab a fistful of your dress as your heart begins to race. You simply cannot kiss Donghyuck, that would literally be the end of you. Donghyuck would hate it with every fibre of his being, and you don’t want to force him into doing this; he would hate you even more than he already does. You absolutely cannot bear the thought of tasting the disgust on his lips—

A warm hand closes around yours, the one that’s nervously clutching onto the folds of your dress. Your fist uncurls and your relaxes as Donghyuck threads his fingers through yours, his grip firm but gentle. He places his other hand on your cheek and whispers so softly that you know it is meant for your ears alone,

“Can I kiss you?”

You look up into his eyes, expecting to find reluctance and discomfort, but instead, his eyes are burning with a sort of—you wouldn’t call it desire, not exactly, but more of determination to see this moment through, because he too knows that there’s no way out of this. 

So you let your eyelids flutter shut to indicate your assent; you might as well get this done and over with, it’s all meaningless anyway and Donghyuck knows it too. 

But the moment his lips meet yours, a shower of sparks explodes in your chest and you can feel your heart sing. Your grip on his hand tightens as you attempt to hold him close and you will this moment to last forever so that you can memorize the sweet taste of his lips on yours, the heat of his hand against your cheek, handling you with such gentleness and care you almost believe this charade you’re both playing is real. He presses his lips against yours just a little deeper, draws you closer to him ever so slightly, thumb stroking your flushed cheek, and a shiver of electricity jolts through your veins, sending a chill down your spine—maybe the castles you’d been building in the air can be real after all. 

But this isn’t a fairytale, and your happy ever after won’t come by so easily.

Donghyuck’s lips leave yours. As quickly as it had begun, it was over, and the castles crumble right before you. You can’t hear the whoops and cheers arising from all around—in that moment, all you are aware of is Lee Donghyuck, gazing down at you with the darkness of midnight in his eyes and stardust streaked across his face. 

You’re suddenly transported back to a cramped, dimly-lit closet, where a boy huddled so close to you you could feel his breath on the shell of your ear and see the beauty spots that speckled his skin. Like stardust.

“... if I kiss you, you might just fall in love with me. Can’t risk that now, can we?” 

How right he is. You almost let out a sardonic laugh right then and there. 

You’re royally screwed, and all it took was a single kiss. 

—

You gaze out at the cityscape below you, breathing in the cool night air on the balcony and watching the twinkling nightlife of the rest of the world. You hope the chilly winds will cool the warmth in your cheeks and restore your former composure, so you won’t look like you’ve just been wrecked apart with the mere sensation of Donghyuck’s lips on yours. 

That would be too humiliating. 

You’re about to turn around and go back to the party, back to where you should be, when you feel a soft tug on your bun. Your hair escapes free from its tight hold and falls down your back, a long and lustrous stream illuminated by moonlight. 

You turn to the side and see Donghyuck, eyes gleaming with mischief. The familiarity of this action makes your heart swell; it’s like he’s reminding you of the memories he made with you. It’s like he’s deliberately making this so damn difficult for you.

“I hope you haven’t forgotten that you haven’t returned me my Scrunchie,” you say, and Donghyuck lets out a loud guffaw. 

“Don’t worry, you’ll get it back soon.”

Then his gaze suddenly drops away from yours, towards the floor. He rubs the back of his neck, cheeks blazing. “About just now—,”

“Thank you for that. I really appreciated it, and I’m sorry you had to go through that.”

“N-No,” Donghyuck says, a little too quickly, “it was fine for me.. Really. I was actually wondering if you were okay with it.”

Oh, he had no idea.

“We did what we had to do, and that’s all that matters,” you reply, turning away from him to face the night. 

You two stand in silence for a moment, your heart hammering in your chest as you gather up the courage let Donghyuck go. 

Now. 

“Y/N,” Donghyuck starts, right at the exact moment you say, “I think it’s time.”

Donghyuck tilts his head to the side, eyes focused on you. “You go first.”

You take a deep breath and plough forth. No turning back now. “I think it’s time to stop this. Tomorrow I’ll tell my parents that I want to cancel the engagement.” 

Donghyuck freezes, eyes wide, and for a moment you think you saw a glimpse of hurt flash across his eyes. But you must be deluding yourself. 

“Why?” 

You raise an eyebrow in feigned incredulity. “What do you mean why? We were supposed to end all of this after we tried it out for a while, just to show our parents that we were putting in the effort. I’ll let them know tomorrow that I want to break up with you. I think we’ve fake dated for long enough and it should be enough to convince our parents. It’s time we both moved on, don’t you think?” you say, doing your best to keep your tone light while twirling a lock of hair around your finger and hoping you were a picture-perfect portrait of absolute indifference. And not a shaking mess. 

Donghyuck’s eyes are glassy, and if you didn’t know any better, you’d think he looked crushed.

“I just have one question,” he says, eyes boring into you, “well, two, actually.”

You lift your chin to meet his gaze, a defiant shine in your eyes and a coy smile on your lips. “Go ahead.”

“Did you feel anything when we kissed?”

It is your turn to freeze. Why would he ask this? And how can you possibly tell him that when he kissed you it was like a thousand angels were singing in unison, and you felt your heart soaring to places it had never been before? That if you could, you would grab his collar, pull him towards you and claim his lips just once more—

“Are you drunk right now, Lee Donghyuck? That’s literally the craziest thing to ask. Of course I didn’t.”

His eyes harden. “Great. Just… one more question then.” 

You cross your arms over your chest because your hands are shaking visibly and you’re unable to stop them. 

“Is this what you really want?”

Again, you’re assaulted by a wave of deja-vu—the same cold, starlit night on a different balcony, where he’d asked you the same question in all earnestness. Previously you weren’t sure if he really cared what you wanted, but now that you know he truly cares, it makes it all the more painful. 

“I don’t want a model answer, Y/N. I’m asking you what you really want.”

You bite down hard on your lip, suppressing the wildness in you that screams no. 

“Again, that’s a stupid question. Of course it’s what I want. Why wouldn’t it be? It’s what we both want, isn’t it? You wanted so much to break our marriage contract because you hate me. That’s why we’re doing all this in the first place.”

A film descends over his eyes at that moment and your heart breaks. 

“You’re right,” he says after what seems like an eternity, voice barely above a whisper, “we should have ended this long ago. I’m sorry. For wasting your time.” 

Your heart breaks at his words, even though you’d seen them coming from a mile away and you really don’t have the right to expect anything else. Your heart breaks at the way he’s already slipping away from you. 

Even though he was never yours to begin with. 

He steps closer to you and takes your wrist. You feel a prickle of electricity course through your bones, but he merely hands you a large shopping bag.

“Happy birthday, Y/N,” he says, with a smile that appears forced and yet genuine all at once. Like he really wants to smile at you but he can’t bring himself to. 

And with that, he turns and leaves. You grip tightly onto the bag, fingernails digging into the skin of your palm as his silhouette fades back into the glow of the ballroom. 

You don’t even have it in you to cry, to regret, to yell for him to come back. 

Because the moment he left a gaping hole tore through you and now you are just too filled up with empty to feel anything.

— 

Hey Y/N,

Happy birthday! I can’t believe it’s been so long since we started hanging out. Honestly, I’d long forgotten about our contract, and now that I think about it, it’s actually so stupid—how did we even come up with that bullshit? Then again, I guess I’m glad we did, because it gave us the opportunity to hang out and without it, I would never have known what a great person you are. 

Here’s your Scrunchie (did you really think I wouldn’t give it back lol) and your birthday present, because I’m sorry I got gravy on your ugly ass Prada bag. Don’t worry, this one’s also from Prada, and I think it’s SO much nicer—my mum helped me get it custom made. I personally chose all the colors and the design, and it has your name inscribed inside so you’d better not lose it. Don’t you dare get gravy on this one or else I’ll literally come for your ass. 

All right, now that that’s out of the way, it’s confession time. You’re right, I did hate you before (and it’s not because I hate pink, I swear), but I realized that it wasn’t personal. I just hated having to marry you, not because of you, but I just didn’t want to be in an arranged marriage. I thought that would take all my freedom away and I really didn’t want that. I’m sorry for hating you so much—that was just plain stupid of me. 

But in a funny way, even though I saw you as killing my freedom, you were the one who gave it back to me—you were the one who rekindled my love for singing at a time when everyone around me was telling me I should give it up. I can’t believe you still remembered that I sing, by the way. I didn’t even know that you knew, so that was pretty cool of you. So yeah, I just wanted to say thank you for that, you have no idea how much it meant to me. How important it was to me. If you look inside the Prada bag you’ll find a USB drive. I’d actually been working on a song for you for a couple months just to say thank you. It’s called “Beautiful Time”, and I really hope you’ll like it.

I hope that whatever happens next, we’ll always be friends, because you’re seriously one of the coolest and strongest people I know. Sometimes I wish I had your strength; I don’t know if you know this, but you’re so strong it makes me jealous sometimes. It’s crazy how we’re the same age but you’re just so much more mature and stronger. You’re just… so amazing sometimes.

All right, before I puke writing this, let’s just end it here. Here’s to many more memories and great times, have a great birthday  Y/N <3

Love, Donghyuck

[ssa25]

Mythological AU - Sasuhina Month 2020 - Day 17

@sasuhinamonth

Rating: Mature

Based on the story of ‘Perseus and Andromeda’.

His body moved relentlessly over the keening and writhing warm body. His eyes were closed, his jaws clenched, and his mind created visions of half lidded moon eyes, swollen parted lips and inky blue hair sprawled over his sheets. He imagined it was her soft voice that was moaning for him. And soon, like every other time since he had met her, he came groaning loud into the neck of his bedmate.

The red haired woman was panting under him, having reached her peak at the same time as him. She knew the usual custom for their shared nights, and sat up as soon as Sasuke collapsed onto his back.

As the woman picked up her clothes, the celebrated demigod was in a reflective trance like always. But it was soon broken when his door was banged urgently.

“Who could that be?”, Karin asked him, but he just moved to the door without bothering to answer her or donning his black tunic.

Unabashed, he opened the door to see familiar eyes stare back at him. Almost similar to the ones he had been imagining moments before. But they were not hers.

“Prince Neji… What brings you to my door in this humble city?”, he asked with mild incredulity. The young prince seemed distressed and even the hero’s nakedness did not bother him.

“Sasuke…. I have come to beg you to return back to the kingdom…”, Neji said in a rushed manner.

“I’m afraid that is impossible…”, Sasuke replied gravely. “ Need I remind you that it was you and your king, who banished me from your soil…”

Prince Neji seemed repentant as he shook his head, “We were easily susceptible to doubt and dread… That you might usurp our lands and the princess… It was our wariness that led us to do the unthinkable… But we realise our mistake... Please, you must accept my apology Sasuke and return right this moment.”

Before Sasuke could reply, he found Neji’s eyes wander behind his back. Karin, now fully dressed rushed out of the modest home, without glancing at the two men standing by the doorway.

“Have your sentiments towards Princess Hinata changed?”, the Prince asked the demigod with a hint of fear.

Sasuke simply folded his hands and glared at the man. Born as the son of a God and a mortal, he was blessed with supreme powers that made him nearly invincible in the mortal realm. He was one of the fiercest heroes that had graced mankind, and his heroic tales were spread far and wide. The only reason he had relented to King Hiashi’s demand for banishment, without lifting his sword to challenge his decree, was because he was quite enamoured with the peace-loving and beautiful Princess. And he refused to cause her any heartache by slaying the stubborn king or his warriors. The woman who was unaware of his emotions would never consider him as anything more than a monster if he did otherwise.

“It is strange you ask me such a question... When she is betrothed to you!”, he spat at him.

“She won’t be anymore.”, Neji replied with pain in his eyes. “Not when her life is hanging by a precarious thread…”

Sasuke was shocked to hear such words. He grabbed the Prince by his armour and asked him with barely tamed rage, “What do you mean??!!”

“Princess Hinata has been offered as a sacrifice…. For the queen’s words of praise for her beauty has earned us Poseidon’s wrath… The Oracle advised that sacrificing Hinata was the only option... And to save us all from utter ruin, Hinata insisted on offering herself... Chained to the devil’s creek, she will be ravaged by the sea monster within the next three days… I wish I could do something to put an end to this insanity… And while I would happily fight and lay my life for Princess Hinata, I fear that it might not be enough to save hers at all… Only the most blessed warrior with inhuman strength can defeat this fearsome opponent… You are our only hope Sasuke!! You are the only one who can slay this monster and save her from a horrific destiny…”

There were very few things in the world that could truly petrify him. And this predicament was exactly that. Gathering his wits, he stomped inside his house to dress himself up with the strongest armour. He grabbed his sword and swore to himself that he would either save the woman who held his heart or die trying.

-

A deafening screech woke up Hinata from her state of unconsciousness. Her arms were sore from being lifted up and bearing the weight of her body since the last two days. Her body was cold and shivering with an intense ache on her left side, as she had suffered a painful lash of the sea monster. She has instantly collapsed into a state of senselessness because of the excruciating pain and horror.

She blinked her eyes open and saw a blurred dark figure brandishing a sword against the dreaded monster. The setting sun was in her eyes, so she could not realise the identity of her saviour. But she noticed that he was perched aloft on a flying creature. Was it a pegasus or a bird, she did not know.

She tried to say something to stop her saviour from meddling in this unfortunate event, but her throat was extremely parched to utter any coherent words. It was proving extremely difficult to maintain consciousness, as the loud clashes of the sword and terrifying screams of Poseidon’s behemoth echoed around her. After what seemed like an eternity, her drooping eyes caught a glimpse of the slain sea creature falling into the waves, and she allowed her body to drift off to numbness.

-

Sasuke flew over to the chained maiden, as soon as he defeated his toughest opponent. He alighted his trusted winged pet on the shore and rushed to the practically naked body of the Princess. Remnants of her muslin gown hung from her shoulders, as an angry red welt on her waist marred her alabaster skin.

Quickly, he unchained her and caught her cold body in his arms. It was evident that she was weak from being tied up for so long without any food and water. Without being able to help himself, he kissed her forehead in relief and swore to himself to protect this noble woman for the rest of his life. Her eyelashes fluttered for a bit, but she did not regain her senses. Without further delay, he carried her back to the palace.

-

“We will forever be in your debt, Sasuke!!”, King Hiashi announced in his court. There were loud cheers and applause for the latest heroic act of their returned hero. He had saved their beloved princess from the clutches of danger.

But the man of honour, could only glare back at the King. He did not want appreciation, gold or accolades. He wanted Princess Hinata to recover her health as quickly as possible.

“How can we ever repay you for your valiant deed? Nothing can measure up to your magnanimity!!”

“There is something that I wish for, King Hiashi!”, Sasuke declared loudly for everyone to hear. The whole court grew silent and waited with bated breaths to hear the demand of the hero.

King Hiashi straightened up in his throne and grew a little nervous at the determined expression of the demigod.

“Well, let’s hear it..”

“I need a wife. I want to have my own family.”

Murmurs erupted in the courtroom, but were hushed as soon as Hiashi raised his hand.

“Of course, you can have your pick of the loveliest of young maidens in our kingdom.”

Sasuke shook his head slowly. “There is only one woman I have in my mind.”

Hiashi sighed heavily, as he understood the implications of his words. It would be painful to give away his daughter when he had just got her back. Not to mention, he had promised his elder daughter’s hand to her cousin who was next in line for the throne. Hiashi looked over at Prince Neji who nodded his head in affirmation. It was only fair that Hinata married the man who had endangered his life in return for hers. 

Hiashi accepted Neji’s decision and thought for a moment before he spoke up.

“Very well, Sasuke. You can have whoever you want, but I only ask for you to gain the maiden’s consent before you wed her.”

Sasuke smirked at the King, knowing he had won half the war. “I agree.”

-

It took Hinata twenty two days to recover completely, before Sasuke asked her for her hand in marriage. Realising that he was her saviour, she thanked him and gladly accepted his proposal.

The two were wedded soon after, and Sasuke whisked the Princess away from the Kingdom to his native city, where the two lived happily in their modest but loving home. Eventually, the couple were blessed with seven sons and two daughters.

x

[selfships-in-spanish]

For the vampire! AU, where the boys are the vampires, I can imagine Ona getting shot/injured while on a separate case, and the boys have to put aside their urges and bloodlust to get her to a doctor and tend to her. Which is EXTREMELY difficult because their senses are directly attuned to the presence of blood, hers specifically - Simon-Data Anon

Simon-Data anon, let me give you a box of chocolate boxes (if you dig that) as a thank you because my askbox has been BLESSED.

(I gotta reply you all but I’m trying! ;_; Lot’s of stuff and I wanna take my time to reply them well, you folks deserve it)

But please have this! :D I wrote it mostly half-asleep so there are probably mistakes and such. Sorry :_)

It was a stupidly simple case. Or at least, it should have been. 

Ona should have seen the clues, the signals; that is her goddamn job. But instead, she led herself into the wolve’s den without backup. 

The leads got her in a small and peaceful town, next to a deep forest that went on forever. There she searched for more clues, checked the ones she already had to make sure they were correct. She thought the trail went cold when suddenly one of the evidences they had lead her to the tiny house near the lake. Ona left a text message to Hank, telling him she found something and that she would discuss it with him in the morning over a nice and good cup of coffee from the cute café near the DPD.

But now she was bleeding on a dirty old wooden floor from a gunshot.

It turned out drug dealers were involved, and they did not want the police to snoop in. They made it clear when they just went for her head the moment she stepped into the seemingly empty and abandoned lake house, prompting a close combat fight with toppled furniture and smashed walls. She had the upper hand, but their fight ended with a second person appearing with a gun and directly shooting her.

Ona heard the one she was fighting against curse something, probably a “fucking stubborn bitch”, before they left her to bleed on the floor and taking her discarded gun with them. She saw him limping and for a moment she felt a surge of pride and satisfaction. But it wasn’t long lived.

The pain was unbearable. Her whole body hurt, the man went to hit her with all his strength and no matter how much training she did, it still hurt and bruised like hell. But the gunshot was as if molten iron was being poured into her like a never-ending stream of pain. Ona tried to crawl out of the house and to her car, to call for help, look for anything usable or her phone that went flying God knows where, but the truth was that she was going to die out of a bleeding gunshot because she was a fucking stupid, reckless idio–

A sob threatened to escape. She felt pathetic. 

The drowsiness from blood loss was racking through her whole body. Ona wanted to close her eyes, wishing to wake up from this nightmare. The adrenaline from before was almost gone, and she didn’t have enough strength to crawl over her phone; it got knocked out under a crate, getting stuck on its edge. She didn’t know if to feel relieved that her attackers didn’t see it, because she didn’t have enough strength left to get it. So close yet so far. 

Breathing was harder now, the pain not letting her gather her wits for a very tiny and fleeting moment. But Ona had to get to the phone, call for help, call for an ambulance, for Hank, for–

Her vision was getting blurry, and she didn’t know if it was because of the tears or because she was succumbing to unconsciousness before finally dying. Fuck.

When did she close her eyes? 

No no no, not now, she couldn’t close them. She couldn’t, not now, she had to get back. She…

Voices. There were voices. Did her murderers come back? Just to make sure and finish the job in case she did survive?

Cold and gentle hands turned her around, carefully holding her and peeling her clothes to reveal the gunshot wound. An inhuman growl tore out of the stranger’s throat, a faint glint to where the eyes were supposed to be, although the shadow was… familiar. Ona tried to say something, but her mouth barely moved when she called out for help. Her fingers twitched in an effort to lift her arm, but she was so, so tired. The arms that were holding her gently tightened their hold, pulling her body close to the stranger’s in a hug. Ona was confused by the weird show of affection from someone she didn’t know or recognise, but as she was held by the stranger, she could see perfectly combed hair and a few rebellious strands falling on their forehead. And also honey eyes that shouldn’t be shining bright as they were doing right now. Ona swore she saw that hair and alabaster skin before… maybe in a dream. It couldn’t be, could it? Blood loss was making her delirious?

The sweet scent of her pierced through the brother’s acute sense of smell. It was fresh, sweet and determined as the day they met her for the first time— a tiny cut making them want to go feral— but they also could smell fear and desperation. They did not like that smell on her. Unknown to their precious human detective, they kept tabs on her just to make sure no other vampire or creature decided to play a quite deadly game, but this time it were humans who decided to hurt her.

The brothers thought they could resist it, but her blood flowing steadily out of the wound was making Connor lose himself piece by piece. It was calling him. Only a taste, a brief kiss on her skin, his tongue lapping up the outside and careful to not touch the wound... But deep down if he had a taste, he knew what would follow. Her blood made them both him and Richard retreat to their baser instincts, to hunt down their prey and have themselves a feast. It smelt like nothing else before, so full of life, so rich...

Connor’s mouth started to water and he had to swallow the spit threatening to spill alongside the guilt of wanting to claim this human as his, when the human didn’t even know of their existence. Yet.

“What do you think you are doing, brother?”

Connor caught himself before he licked his finger clean of her blood. His fangs were bared, his breathing harsher, and he even was tempted to snarl at the intruder. He didn’t realise he was about to do so until Richard’s glint in his eyes defied him. One look at his brother and Connor knew he was barely restraining himself, but he was holding onto his precious will of iron better than Connor himself. Such was the power of their darling detective’s blood on them.

“She doesn’t have much time.” Connor willed himself to stop looking at her soaked shirt, and carefully laid her down again to take off his coat and put it on her. He picked her up again in his arms and stood up.

“I’ve located the ones who did this to her.” Richard took off one of his leather gloves as Connor approached him at the front door. He let his thumb brush against her unharmed cheek, carefully avoiding the blood. “I hope you’re hungry.”

“I’m famished”.

“Good.”

Needless to say that they were faster than an average human, and probably a car, so it came in handy to run through the forest until they reached their own car. The nearest hospital was, thank God, close, and they made it in time to get her into the ER. They let the doctors and nurses do their job, watching her disappear further into the hospital. Connor clutched his blood-soaked coat, his hand squeezing the fabric harshly.

When the nurse turned around to ask them for details and where they could go clean themselves a bit, they were already gone. Connor and Richard hated the smell of hospitals anyways, the reek of death and disease was too much. But also the scent of her blood was too distracting. She was safe in their hands. Their detective was a strong-willed human, and she would survive.

But the fate of those who harmed was going to be quite different.

It was easy to locate their detective’s room after dealing with her attackers. They sated the bloodlust and hunger her blood made them feel, and let themselves be extra vicious for having attempted to end her life then and there. They left behind them a true carnage that looked like a wild animal had its fun. But now they were high on adrenaline themselves, sated and the rich flavour of life running through their veins. It was a pity they tasted horrible. 

Connor was wiping the corner of his mouth with a handkerchief Richard gave him as they were about to turn around the corner that lead them to her room’s corridor. The brothers saw police outside her door and they both grunted, displeased. The brothers would have to get inside in another way; Richard wasn’t feeling like manipulating that human’s mind. 

Thankfully the window opened easily enough. They stepped inside with all the grace one could do so (Richard was always better at sports), dusting off briefly their clothes. She was sleeping and the beeping machine at her side told them she was stable and alive. Connor smiled, pleased by her strength and will to live. She would do a perfect mate if she—

She let out a sigh, frowning slightly as Ona briefly moved her head to the other side, unconsciously baring her neck to the brothers. Twin sharp intakes of air could be heard, eyes zeroed on her pulse point. The brothers could still smell her blood, although not fresh like when they found her, and their ears caught the sound of her steady heart beat. The thrumming of her pulse was deafening, its call worse than a siren’s luring out an unfortunate sailor. They both knew they just fed themselves, copiously, but it was right there, pulsing inside her veins, begging to be tasted for the first time…

The scrunching of her eyes and twitching nose signaled that she was waking up. Connor and Richard unconsciously walked closer to her bed, their figures looming over her resting body, as they took in every tiny movement. Slowly, the human detective opened her eyes, the drugs pumped up into her body making it very difficult for her to focus, but she saw two familiar shadows over her. She sighed tiredly, and closed her eyes again.

“I’m dreaming again, aren’t I?” her voice was just shy of a barely audible whisper, even more difficult to understand by the way she was drawling every word. “Of handsome strangers.”

“You think of us handsome?” Connor was amused. This wasn’t the way he thought the first real conversation between them would start.

“I’m sure you are. You must be. You are in my dreams.” Ona frowned. “This sounded like that Disney movie.”

Both brothers chuckled, leaning over her and resting their arms on her sides, mindful of not squashing any tubes or her bruised body.

“Then, are we your charming princes?” Richard caressed her cheek with his finger, softly.

“You haven’t even presented yourselves properly. Not very prince-ish of you.” Ona managed to open her eyes again, turning her head in the direction of the caresses. She was greeted with the clear sight of one of the strangers’ faces. Finally. “Oh fuck me, you are handsome.”

Connor took her hand, free of tubes and needles, as he openly laughed. He gently kissed her knuckles, letting the softness of her skin brush against his cold lips.

“If that is your wish…”

“I’m not in the perfect state for that, you rascal.” Ona managed a weak chuckle. “I just got shot and my ass kicked.” her gaze was met with smiling brown eyes.

She was used to the nights where the twin shadows would visit in her dreams. They were oddly comforting, if not weird at first, and always seemed to have her in the highest form of veneration. Ona would wake up feeling guilty of dreaming of such things, thinking of herself as an egocentric and needy individual. She didn’t know why she dreamed of handsome strangers, or why they did all kinds of things they promised in heated whispers against her skin. But right now? She welcomed all kind of comfort.

The finger on her cheek descended slowly, tracing her jaw first and then her neck, following her pulse.

“You should buy me a drink first.” The finger and the thumb brushing her knuckles stopped at the same time, twin eyebrows raising. “For. You know. If you wanna do that and…“ Ona took a deep breath, exhaustion clawing her to go back to sleep. “and all the things you promised me. Or just chat. I don’t know. But drink first.”

“You will have whatever you desire for, Starlight.” She felt those lips kiss her hand again, as cold fingers brushed a few strands of hair out of her face. “You only have to ask.”

“Tell me your names, then. So I can finally know the two imps haunting me in my sleep.”

“Imps? We have been that bad?” Connor’s teasing smirk made her snort.

“Handsome imps, but with no manners.”

The finger on her neck resumed its ministrations, going back to her jaw and then her chin to turn her to face its owner.

“I’m Richard.” Icy eyes pinner her on the spot, unable to look away from their sheer intensity.

“And I’m Connor.” As if Richard freed her from his spell, Ona turned her head the other way to gaze into deep pools of molten chocolate. She felt as if she would drown in them.

Connor went to open his mouth again to say something, but noises from outside the corridor made him stop. He clicked his tongue, displeased at being interrupted. Connor had the thought of sending the nurse away with a simple mind control trick, but he knew their darling had to rest and regain her strength.

“Sadly, our time is over for today.” Richard stood up, eyes glued to the door as if he wanted to destroy whoever dared to interrupt their time with their precious detective.

“It seems we have run out of time, yes.” Connor leaned further into her, letting go of her hands to cup her face, and his voice a soft and velvety purr. “We will see you soon, Moonbeam.”

His lips brushed softly the corner of her mouth. It was a chaste kiss, a gentle press of lips, but it felt as if her skin was on fire. Her heart beated faster as she took a sharp breath. Not wanting to feel left out, Richard bent over, mimicking Connor’s actions. Her mouth followed his as he retreated, unconsciously wanting more.

“Rest now and regain your strength, teacup. We will be watching over you.”

“Now you are guardian angels?” she had a tired smirk on her lips.

Richard chukled, but it didn’t hold the same mirth as before.

“I doubt there is a place in heaven for us.”

Confused, but completely fatigued from being awake, Ona didn’t comment on that. Maybe the next time they showed themselves on her dreams she would ask more about it. About them. Ona watched Connor and Richard open the window of her room, which confused her even more, and the next time she blinked they were gone with the curtain flowing on the chilly night breeze. Her eyes closed, not being able to be awake any longer.

The next time she woke up, rays of sunshine filtered through the drawn curtains and the sounds of people outside could be heard. Ona turned her head to see a vase full of beautiful and fresh flowers on her bedside table. The nurse told her later, when she was changing her bandages, two handsome men came to bring them to her, but following protocol, the hospital didn’t let visitors to come unless authorised to do so. The nurse handed Ona a handwritten note attached to it with a teasing smirk and wiggling eyebrows. Surely it was a nice and juicy gossip for the nurses on that wing of the hospital.

Ona read the note written in a beautiful penmanship when she was alone, feeling as this was something intimate and reserved for when she was on her own devices.

“Get well soon, Starlight. We owe you a drink indeed.

Yours truly,Connor & Richard.”

Ona took a sharp breath, regretting it later when the gunshot wound protested.

That… hadn’t been a dream? 

Ona noticed there were numbers at the very end of the note. It looked like a phone number. Ona got out of her thoughts at the sound of Hank barking at the officer on the door to move the fuck out and let him see his fucking reckless detective. Ona smiled at that, knowing Hank probably drove like his life depended on it the moment he got notified one of his detectives got shot.

All his temper and angry words disappeared the moment he stepped into the room. The officer outside was smart enough to let the Lieutenant pass. When he saw her tired smile, Hank let out a relieved exhale. She was okay, everything was okay. He took a chair and sat down next to Ona. He rubbed his hand across his face, letting out a tired sigh.

“Don’t ever scare me like that again, understood?”

“I’m sorry, Lieutenant.” at least she had the decency to look truly ashamed. She knew Hank’s baggage and she knew what a mess Hank must have been until he got here.

“It’s Hank to you, you cork.”

Ona laughed at Hank using one of her own curse words.

“Hank.” After a moment of silence, Ona turned her head to him. “Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it, kid. Get well soon because we all miss you and we can’t stand Reed being a snotty asshole anymore. Tina can only hold him in line for so long.”

“¡Ahá! So he does behave when I’m around!” Ona grinned.

“Only because you whooped his ass that time and put him in his place. He fears you.”

“Good. He should.” Ona’s grin turned to a satisfied smirk.

Hank chuckled. He patted his jacket until he found what he was looking for. He waved the object so Ona could see. A twix fun size bar. Ona’s stomach made its presence known.

“This is for you for when you are better AND a good girl who listens to her doctors. Don’t do like the last time you got injured.” Hank’s knowing ‘dad’ stare made her feel like a scolded child.

“I won’t, I promise.” she was not pouting. Nope.

“You better.” Hank knew Ona would probably launch for the chocolate candy bar the moment she was alone, but he let her have that tiny pleasure. Only when he wasn’t looking. 

But Hank had to get serious.

“Now, I know you are tired and need to lie down and heal, but I need you to tell me what happened and what did you see.”

“I know.” 

Ona took a deep breath and began explaining everything, what she saw, what she discovered, the leads and then the connection to drug dealers. Her attackers also got her gun, so maybe they could track it and lead to them. She even included the one or two random strangers that helped her out. Ona only had vague memories of that and couldn’t remember much, just that someone found her, but she omitted the late night visit. Ona needed to look for the truth about that first. Also Hank didn’t have to know about the massive amount of wet dreams she got at night. Nope. TMI!

After talking about more details and then changing the topic to random things, Hank parted with one last gift: her phone with a newly cracked phone screen. Just her luck. At least she didn’t lose all the info in there and the photos, of course. That counted as a win.

Once Ona was discharged from the hospital, with a few days off and a phone call from Fowler that she was on weeks of desk duty just in case (because they all knew she would lie about being okay and would end up opening her stitches again), and well, she wasn’t too happy about it, she dug her purse for the note that was delivered to her alongside with the flowers. Ona was chewing her lip, contemplating if to press the call button or chicken out and mull over it for the entire week. She decided to suck it up. 

She pressed the call button.

Anxiety was gnawing at her insides as the dial tone rang. Maybe she did dream it? Maybe it was a untasteful joke from one of the nurses that heard her talk in her sleep? Maybe it–

“I thought you would never call, Starlight.” Ona was greeted by the voice she heard all those nights, all those whispers and filthy promises– “So, how about that drink we promised you?”

“Yeah, hi! Uh… about that… how about, uh… uhm, tomorrow night?” Ona’s voice trembled.

“Tomorrow night, Green Bee at 8?” Ona could feel the purr in what she assumed was Connor’s voice.

“Tomorrow night. Okay. Perfect.” Ona closed her eyes. She was being an awkward mess but Connor didn’t seem to either notice it or mind it. She was absolute garbage at this. But her questions nagged at her to get to know the truth behind all this.

“See you soon, teacup.” That probably was Richard. It was quieter, deeper, but with a touch of fondness in it. “Enjoy your day and don’t overexert yourself.”

“A-ah, yeah! You too. You both. I won’t. Thank you, hahah...”

A sultry see you tomorrow reached her ears, making her embarrassingly squeak out a reply. She could do this. She was a goddamn detective, she got into worse situations and even more dangerous too.

No amount of training or experience got her ready to see them both waiting for her in front of the new and fancy restaurant, looking as if they stepped out of one her multiple dreams. Well dressed, hair perfectly styled with those rebellious strands falling on their foreheads as always, and twin smiles that greeted her when she approached them both.

They were very much here and very much real.

She had more questions than ever.

[scrumptiousalpacadeer]

My Easter - Removing The Mask

Easter 2020 will forever remain in my memory as the one that hit me like a truck; an invitation I answered body and soul; the Easter where I fully allowed myself to ‘go there’, to pass through the impossible threshold of the crucifixtion and come out the other side. I don’t think it’s a coincidence that this happened at the heart of the Covid-19 lockdown; Easter-time this year felt like a glaring luminous invitation to journey inwards. Besides, what else was there to do?! I couldn’t meet with friends, go to cafes or pubs. I was forbidden even to drive to the woods and romp in the leaves. All of sudden the world had stopped, there was no running away this time. I was called, finally, to confront myself with eyes wide open. It’s Holy Week, and I’m being given some very clear marching orders: “its safe to come out now. Its time to remove the mask.”

I can’t recall which particular day it was; perhaps Palm Sunday or Holy Monday, but I received a very clear instruction to write a full, unfiltered confession to myself of the real conditions of my life so far. Somehow it felt entirely correct that I would undertake this task whilst journeying with Christ through his betrayal and crucifixion, for I knew that in order to do this I would be visiting the blackest times of my life; times of pounding lovelessness and cruelty, impossible violence and running blood. I knew that I would need to visit the desolate landscape of my youth, to pull off the grim mask of civilization I’d worn all these years and fully encounter the betrayals by those who were supposed to love me. Hardest of all, I knew at the core of my confession was a fully sighted look at the violent, disconnected person those early losses had turned me into; I would have to gaze up at the sky-scraping height of the walls of defense I’d built around myself; wall that had at times fully eclipsed the sun. I would need to meet all the gentle souls I’d hurt betrayed since that time, believing so wholeheartedly that I was full of stinking rot and no consequence on this earth. 

Somehow I knew I wasn’t alone. The deal seemed to be that if I fully surrendered to this, as much as my consciousness would allow, that I would be fully met and held every step of the way. ‘Don’t worry’ a voice said, a deep silent voice inside, ‘it’s safe. I’m here. I won’t leave you..even when it might feel like I have, when things get sticky, I haven’t. I’m always here.’

I was being invited to set myself free and even though there was some trepidation, as with all big journeys into the unknown, there was also a deep excitement, for I knew that if I could come thorugh this portal, there would be a whole new world waiting; a new beginning.

So I jumped out of the plane without a parachute.  Upon guidance from The Christian Comunity Church I set up a small shrine on a chest of drawers in my bedroom. It consists of an alabaster statue of Mother Mary cradling a baby Jesus, three candle holders and a clay heart, un-painted and hastily sculptured by my daughter. This was a pilgrimage man must undertake alone; but the world was allowing me a luxurious amount of personal space – the only visitors would be delivery men (!) and my daughter was staying with her father just down the road. I didn’t know at the beginning that my confessions would take nine days, or that some days the words would come in such a torrent. My writing life has always been a response to a physical impulse, a ‘pull’ for something to come out, but never before had I been tugged like this, a fish on a hook. Some days I typed four or five hours straight.  

Each morning I breakfasted and went to my little church, dead on ten o’clock. I followed the service advised by the church. I turned off my phone, lit seven candles, read the Gospel aloud, attempted to clear my mind, and said the Lords Prayer – the first time, in forty five years living on this earth, that the words resonated within me with meaning. Every time I said ‘Thy will be done’ I was reminded that this was a task of surrendering to something far bigger than me, not something to ‘push ahead with’ in my head. Those days of intellectual figuring out were no help here. Often on those Easter mornings I asked for strength to keep going. I asked for my faith to be renewed when I felt lost. At the moment of Consecration, in my imagination I feasted hungrily on the bread and drank thirstily from the cup, in fact, it’s more truthful to say I gulped on the life force of Christ. I needed His strength for the day ahead; I needed to be lit up with his light.

Nights I slept in my daughter’s bedroom, waking up each morning of Holy Week to her glorious pictures of elves and sprites; her display of animals photos torn from magazines; a penguin she’d adorned with a speech bubble with the words ‘I’m cold’ scribbled in biro and a baby seal, that she’d adorned with a bow on its head. I woke up to her letter from Santa Claus tacked to the wall and her kitten calendar.  It gave me great comfort to sleep in an eight year old’s world, for I knew that my journey required me to be as vulnerable and awe-struck as a child; to recall what it was like to reveal my heart without any thought or consequence.   

My appetite lessened; I ate a lot of toast and drank gallons of tea. I typed sitting on the floor with my computer on an upturned crate. Often I wouldn’t dress until late afternoon. After writing I would reward myself with a walk out into the lanes and woodland tracks of Ashurst Wood. 

It seemed hugely significant that although I would be plummeting to my death, in the background there was an abundance of fuzzy life; Laura, our tortoise-shell cat had given birth to six kittens on  April 4th. They were still limp and blind, but fattening with each second in a cardboard den. As I typed in my daughter’s room, a dark beginning of life resounded silently from the kitten corner. 

I gave my confession the title Turning Point. One of the central themes of my Easter 2020 undertaking, if not its core, was letting my sister, Sally Ann, die. But to do this, to grant her her final wish, I knew I needed to tell her story as honestly as I could; to bear witness to her suffering and reveal it to the world; to not conjoin with the world we’d both been born into and ‘cover her up’. Only then would she rest in heaven; only then could I live on earth in freedom. Sally, my dark mysterious sister, ahead of me in the world by three years, committed suicide at our family home in January 1990. She was nineteen years old and I was sixteen at the time. 

Somehow I knew that journeying back to the hell of that that time, almost thirty years ago, back to her trimester of suffering when each day felt like a crucifixtion, would lead me into heaven. At some point during these days I experienced a powerful shift in my thinking; a revelation. I realised that for thirty years I’d been living with a fundamental ‘untruth’ - a lie that had at times proved almost fatal. This lie was two-fold and lay at the core of my heart, and in lifting the lid on it, I experienced such a physical release that I was able to kneel down and weep at my little church. I could begin to let go. 

The first lie was that I’d thought that I’d had to stop loving my sister because she was no longer here; because of the shame that society places on suicide; because there was no adequate help in the suburbs of Bedfordshire in the early 90s for such an act of self-murder in a three bed semi, because our relationship had been so difficult; because nothing I did seemed to make her happy; because it had all been so hopeless; because my father had told me to buck up two weeks after her death - ‘life goes on Christine’ - all of that meant that I’d detached myself from all the love I felt for my sister, I’d erased it all; I’d cut myself off from my history in shame, forgotten all the nights we’d shared sleeping in the same room; all the good times and laughter we shared,  despite her cruelty, despite the confusion. This Easter I was given the gift of remembering myself as a loving child; I recalled; I felt viscerally, in my body, that despite everything, I had loved her. Now wasn’t that something? Wasn’t that a miracle? And then the impossible happened; she took herself out of the game and left me here on earth in devastation. This Easter I needed to reclaimed my heart somehow. ‘It’s ok’ the voice said, ‘speak out. You have nothing to be ashamed of’. 

The second lie that I began to put to bed was that somehow my heart was ‘malformed’ or ‘useless’ in some way, because the love I sent forth hadn’t been able to save Sally. For the two months leading up to her suicide, every day when I returned from school, she only got worse, not better.  Somehow, and somehow I could offer this up this Easter, I had thought myself a ‘murderer’.

And underneath the civilized mask I wore, the truth was that I’d treated myself often as one would treat a murderous child; I’d kept her locked away, persecuted myself, let people and things I adored fall by the wayside, abandoning myself and my fellow man over and over. 

Somehow the grim violence of Christ’s death, the humiliation, the heart-breaking conversation he has with God before-hand ‘isn’t there another way we can do this?!’ rang out to me this year. I finally accepted the devastation of his death. I had to allowed the tsunami of grief and I sat at his feet through-out; I sat at the feet of my dying self in full compassion for her helplessness Only in opening myself to my full vulnerability would I get to the green pasture on the other side. Only by allowing the truth of the world of violence I’d been born into would I undergo the glorious transformations of those violences. Christ’s death reversed a big lie I’d been imprisoned by; that our shadow life is best kept quiet – ‘oh no, don’t you understand?’ he says, ‘the blackness is the very place from which light is born; the point where everything can change; the place where you’ll learn to love. But – and I know this is a bummer - you have to die first.’ If I truly wanted to continue living in my body then it needed to be with wounds revealed. It was so wholly, genetically, biologically different in every way to the life of appearance I’d been forging ahead with. 

On the evening of Easter Saturday I drank a small measure of gin for courage and sent Turning Point out into the atmosphere, emailing to my dear friend and writing partner Matilda Leyser. I hung in the balance, waiting for the world to change – daring to believe the unbelievable. Then things got weird; at almost exactly the same time of clicking send and removing my armour, I got attacked. I received a long email, aggressive in tone, from my neighbour informing me that my tom-cat, George, had got in to her house and urinated on her bed. “Please be a responsible pet owner”, she said. “and keep your cats locked in your house from now on.” Isn’t the world like that? I thought. We take the ultimate leap to freedom, and someone, someone you least expect, will swipe you with a long diatribe about cat wee. 

But I knew that this was a good sign; a sign that just in me trying to be real, the world had shifted. Wasn’t it time for me to confront the possibility that a good life was waiting for me? Wasn’t it time to forgive my neighbour her trespasses and move on -  to a place where I could play the piano without being told to shush? Wasn’t it time to stop communing with misery and take responsibility for my happiness? Doesn’t the resurrection tell us that there’s a chance; that we’re meant to live in abundance? 

Easter Monday I thought I’d be overwhelmed with joy but that came later – in fact, in took a couple of weeks of disorientation and yet more grief before I could begin to grasp the sheer revolutionary, upturning power of Jesus’s resurrected body. I read St Luke 24: 39 over and over; “Behold my hands and my feet, that it is I myself; hand me, and see;” He was back, wounds and all. He was eating with his friends and rejoicing. Their hearts were singing. The old dark world was gone and things could only get better. 

A week after Easter my daughter returned home and reclaimed her room. Like every human being on the earth at this time, we have no idea what is going to happen next. 

* * * **

A couple of days ago I watched the Billy Wilder classic The Apartment. It’s a simple tale of love and redemption in 50s New York,  but there’s a darkness at the centre of the film that surprised me. Fran Kubelik, a central character and love interest played (Shirley MacClaine) is ‘brought back to life’ after attempting suicide on Christmas Eve by the man who loves her, Bud Baxter (Jack Lemmon) and a doctor. and his neighbour. It’s a disturbing scene because she doesn’t want to revive; she’s injected, slapped, given smelling salts, extra strong coffee and finally walked up and down the apartment by the two men like a rag doll to keep her awake. Bud cares for her over the next forty eight hours, hiding his shaving razors for fear she’ll try again; just as my parents hid dangerous implements in high cupboards as my sister’s death wish intensified. 

She recovers, and in the glorious ending of the film, Fran has a sudden epiphany. Sitting in the restaurant with her cruel lover, she sits bolt upright, the camera focuses on her widening eyes: she realises that she’s in love with Mr Baxter, the kind man who saved her life. Perhaps she realises that she’s loved him all along. Choosing love, she leaves her old life behind, and sprints through the streets of New York to Bud’s apartment. Her high heels clack up the stairs to his apartment like rapid gun fire.  He’s packing up his apartment;  he wants something better than loaning out his home as a glorified knocking shop to his bosses and their mistresses. “What are you doing?” Fran asks him.

“I don’t know, …….I just gotta get out of this place’. 

They sit with glasses of champagne and prepare to play Gin Rummy: 

‘I love you Ms Kubelik. Did you hear what I said? I absolutely adore you.’ 

“Shut up and deal.’ 

And so, upon reflection I would say that my Easter has been a bit like those final scenes of The Apartment.  I’ve heard love calling, I’ve got up from the table and am running towards it. I’m moving quickly, with the chance at being human, allowing the wounds and scars of the old world to propel me into the new; coming alive from the inside.

I’m ready to drink champagne with friends and play with a whole new hand. 

In gratitude to Luke and the priests at the CCC for the milk and honey they provided this Easter: their correspondence, insights and guidance through this Easter-time.

May 2020                                                                  Copyright Christine Rose

[frigginwriting]

Howdy howdy! As I’ve mentioned before I changed my Nanowrimo goal to write The Tales of Kredos with @sweetfaerycherry, and we’re making fair progress on that. Only 5k words behind now.

I thought I’d put up the first chapter to see if I could get some opinions on it! We’ve written a lot more than this of course, but one chapter is long enough as it is. I’m gonna pop the first chapter under a read more here, if anyone gets the time some feedback would be delightful~

The world itself had no name, or at least the name was long lost in the tangles of vines around ancient ruins. Light from the moon peeked through dark clouds, and laid against old alabaster walls that shimmered with ancient enchantments. 

The walls stretched each way for thousands of miles, straight through the sacred forests. On the other side were massive pits where foul smelling black smoke billowed into the air. It blanketed the small rickety towns of the outer ring with an eternal overcast, as night bound people sulked around, looking to complete what they needed before the sun rose and the majority of the population was out for the day.

Further in, the smoke dissipated. Past the forest between the rings, were the second ring cities with better infrastructure and cobblestone streets. Then were inner ring towns with asphalt and oil street lamps. From there was the epicenter of the Triune Kingdoms– Centura. It was the Capital of Kredos, the walled continent safe from the savagery of beasts and monsters in the Wilds.

Centura was an odd assortment of buildings cobbled together, as the next technological century rammed full force into the past. It was the pinnacle of humanity, in all of its various forms. Near the center was a massive blocky skyscraper, metal shining in moonlight. Near there was the Palace of Power, where the four royals met twice a year. The last landmark was the capital temple, a big grand building of white marble, meticulously maintained. Inside was the large gold plated insignia of the sun, and in the still dark morning hours the new neon lights that lay over it’s edges lit the way.

Surrounding these three impressive landmarks were numerous businesses, and further out houses of gothic architecture. Down the street from the marble temple was a house that stood from the rest, small and old, unpainted wood, with sigils carved into the door and window frames. It had one large door, and on this early morning it swung open.

One person emerged with an errand to run, Runimo Avis, a seventeen year old with an array of colored hair and dark skin. As he left he carried with him his bag, one empty bottle, the goggles he wore, and the cane he kept outstretched in front of him.

The walk from his house to the main street market was more than most people in the capital cared to take, and by the time he reached it the sky was lightening up. He saw people roaming about already and felt relief, thinking he might have been too early still. As the light grew clearer with the rising sun, shapes grew clearer, still blurry and dark but with enough of an edge and enough contrast for him to tell where one thing ended and another began. 

Runimo kept a hold of his cane anyway, knowing it would make the shopping trip quicker and easier. He couldn't imagine anyone remembering all of their customers in the capital, but he of all people should have been a face one couldn't forget easily. Still, holding it, he got far less of an annoyed or irritated tone when he asked people to point him to something or read a label for him.

"Runimo!"

Focused on his own preemptive agitation, Runimo jumped at the call of his name.

"Oh, gods, sorry I didn't mean to startle you."

David, Runimo's friend. A light elf in shift, apparent by the point to the ears and to a lesser degree, his sturdy features and aquiline nose which weren't uncommon in them. The most notable trait of elves outside of the ears was the metallic, foil-like sheen to the iris of their eyes.

Runimo relaxed when he realized who it was.

"Nah, I just was thinking about stuff." Runimo said. "What are you doing up already?"

"Couldn't sleep." said David. "I suspect you're in the same boat?"

"Kind of." Runimo said. "Been up since two. I thought I'd run a couple of errands and maybe get a short nap in before. Hey, listen, do you smell coffee?"

"Coffee?" David asked, and paused to smell the air. "Huh. Yeah I suppose, do you have some, or..."

Runimo could tell from the cutoff of David's voice, that he'd come to the same assumption that Runimo had some time ago.

"I've been smelling coffee since I woke up." Runimo said. "I'm pretty confident in Granddad's wards, but I'm not particularly fond of the idea that some dark magic source has been following me all morning."

"Oh Lessers," David looked around as if he could spot the source, "have you told anyone? Have you told your grandpa?"

Runimo made a face.

"I'd rather not stress him out I think." He said, and it was obvious what he really meant.

"Hey, look," David said, "your grandpa wouldn't keep you from running the course if it wasn't for a good reason. You aught tell him, maybe he can do something about it, or at least make sure it's something unimportant. What if something messed up happens while you're out there?"

Runimo huffed a little. He knew all along, of course, that he should have told his granddad from the start. Part of him was hoping someone would say something to the contrary. His grandpa was already worried about him running the course as it was, the last thing he really wanted was to put out another excuse for him not to.

"Yeah alright, I know." Runimo said. "I'll tell him when I get back. I've just got some fish and sunflower oil to pick up for him, maybe a couple other things here and there."

"Yeah alright, mind if I come with?" David asked. "I'm just killing time until graduation."

"Haven't any reason why not." Runimo said, as he went back to browsing. "Makes my time easier."

"So Gavin says they finally told him what temple he's going to be assigned to, and you're never going to believe which one." David said, walking with Runimo.

"He wanted to go to one of those poor outer ring towns," Runimo said, "that hasn't changed has it? Is it one of those?"

"He's going to Pigsfoot, when he graduates." David said. "And he's actually excited about it, can you believe that?"

"He wanted to go to one of those poor little towns, so I mean yeah, one of the county capitals makes sense." Runimo said, and then with a teasing tone– "I can believe he's happy about it, some people are actually in this for the benefit of others."

"Listen, I want to help people as much as the next guy," David said, and placed his hand on his chest with a tilt of his head, "I didn't go through five years of priest's training because it was a cushy job. If I wanted high paying and cushy, I'd go work for Osseo... but I can smell that place just thinking about it."

"Well I mean it's a recycling town." Runimo said, and he paused to ask David to grab him a bottle of sunflower oil and leave the bottle be brought back. They paid the two gold kredits, and continued on. "I imagine you just get used to the smell after a while. It's probably not as bad as you imagine."

"Get used to the smell." David scoffed. "I tell you what, if you ever see me in a place like that, you can just assume I've lost my dang mind."

"You say that as if you aren't crazy half the time anyway." Runimo said, glancing David's way.

"Then assume I've really lost it." David said, pointing his finger at Runimo. "Speaking of crazy, there's supposed to be this new stall in the market today, we should check it out before you go home again."

"What's what have to do with crazy?" Runimo asked, and the two paused briefly in their walking.

"It's crazy because," David said, voice practically bouncing with anticipation, "it's apparently a stall for Grim Curios."

"Oh gods, that place." Runimo leaned his head back rolling his eyes in exasperation. "I know you've the tackiest taste of anyone I've ever met, yet still you continue to astound me with it."

"It's an airship shop," David said, "I've always wanted to see what they have inside, it's suppose to be real freaky. Beatrice said her aunt got her a nice necklace from there last Che'ibas, and it was enchanted so that she couldn't tell any lies."

"It was what?" Runimo asked.

"Yeah, I guess she ended up telling like half her family during dinner that she thought they were all uptight, overbearing, and ignorant." David said, and shrugged his shoulders, mirroring Runimo's surprise. "Of course she also told her aunt that her awful hairstyle looked like a nest of rats, and was probably what kept scaring away her various boyfriends so..."

"Lessers, and you want to get something from there?" Runimo asked, incredulous.

"Well at least look." David said. "Buy something if I think it's worth it, but mostly look. I don't know if it's going to be a permanent Sunday market thing or if it's just in town since the ceremony is today."

"You want to do an awful lot before... What time is it?" Runimo asked.

"Uh," David checked his watch, "six forty-five."

"You want to do an awful lot before it's even seven in the morning." Runimo said. "How do you know it's even open yet?"

"I passed it a bit ago, someone was setting up. They looked about finished to me." David said, and Runimo shook his head in the way that one did when feigning disappointment with their friends.

"Fine, if we simply must indulge in your terrible tastes." He said. "I want to get the fish first though."

"That's fair." David said, and they continued walking again. "I think it's nearer the back today."

They walked a ways back and Runimo knew they'd arrived when he heard a familiar voice speak.

"Good morning Avis, you're early today. You want the usual?"

"Yes please, Mr. Charles." Runimo said, coming to a stop beside the stall.

"Keep it cold for an extra gold?" 

"Yes as well, I think I'll be browsing a bit before going home." Runimo nodded.

The man behind the stall laid out a paper that was marked with sigils that Runimo couldn't see but knew would be there. He laid out two large fish and wrapped them, then a separate package of prawn, before wrapping them all up in the paper that had first been laid out.

The corner of the paper was pressed with a sticky seal, and for a moment the sigils lit up, before becoming dull marks again. Mr. Charles handed Runimo the package, and it felt chilled in his hands when he took it.

Runimo pulled out five gold, the usual price, and Mr. Charles tried to stop him.

"Nah, on second thought, don't worry about it. It's on the house just this once, you've got a lot to handle today." He said, and Runimo laughed slightly, pressing the coins down onto the top ledge of the market boxes.

"Let's not jinx me." Runimo said. "Thank you Mr. Charles, hope you get to see the ceremony."

Runimo and David set off once more, this time to the stall that David seemed so eager to drag him to.

When they arrived it appeared unattended, and Runimo was underwhelmed, unable to make out enough details to tell what all was there.

"Wow," David said, "they've got a pretty good collection of wands here."

"Wands are expensive as is." Runimo said, moving the goods he carried to his other arm. "I can't imagine coming from an airship shop. What else have they got?"

"Uh, some accessories, some spell scrolls, runestones, and potion and ingredient bottles." David said. "Looks like hand made foods too, probably enchanted like the rest of it all. Some bones."

"Bones?" Runimo said, reasonably off put.

"Says they're replicas." David said. "Though I'm not sure what someone would want them for."

He'd barely finished when someone spoke up behind them.

"Can I help you two?"

The voice was somewhat deep, but seemed genuine in it's inquiry. Regardless, when the two turned, they both let out a startled shout. 

David saw the details Runimo couldn't. Skeletal face paint that stood out on dark skin, a black and white pinstriped suit, and a bright splash of neon green hair.

Runimo saw the figure of a man who was no doubt nearing eight feet tall, looming over them.

"Wh– uh– Grim?" David managed to get out, and gestured a thumb behind him to the stall, flustered at his involuntary shout.

"Hex." Said the person who stood over them. "That is, Gossamer Hex. I am maintaining the stall here today."

"That's quite a name." Runimo said. 

"I'd agree it makes a bold statement. Whether it's a good or bad one is debatable," Hex said, "but I would say as far as rarity is concerned, it's about as common as a name like Runimo one would suppose."

Runimo blinked behind his goggles.

"You look like your grandfather, that's all." Said Hex. "The priest's outfit makes it a dead giveaway. Anyway, can I help you two?"

"I think we're just browsing for now." Runimo said. There was a moment of silence, a bit uncomfortable, as Runimo could only assume Hex was looking them over. Finally the guy piped up again.

"That's fine. I got a special going on today." He said. "First time with a stall here, and ceremony day and all, seemed like a good plan."

"Uh, what's the special?" David asked.

"Cracker candies." Hex said. "Of my own making. One free."

Runimo could say that neither he nor David had any real interest in children's toy housing candies, but it was free so he shrugged at David and nodded.

"Sure I guess. You make them yourself?" Runimo asked, as Hex rummaged through a bag on his waist. "Anything particularly special or just something to hand out to kids?"

"They aren't for kids." Hex said, pulling out two candies wrapped in wax paper. "They don't have toys in them. They have fortunes."

"Fortunes?" David asked with a weak incredulous laugh. "What, like you're an oracle or something?"

"No, nothing so complex. I assure you if I was I'd be living the high life in a decked out palace room, not selling candy on the street." Hex said, and handed the two each a candy. "I don't come up with the fortunes, I simply enchant the paper. When it comes into contact with a new person, the fortune writes itself. It's random, mostly a novelty as opposed to a real fortune."

"Oh," David said, looking at the candy in his hand, "that's actually pretty neat."

It was a rather fun idea, it was a wonder someone hadn't thought of it already. Runimo and David unwrapped their candies, and bit them in half. The candy was sweet and tart, firm, but not tooth breaking. Both boys pulled out the little slips of paper as they ate the candy that held them.

"So what's your say?" Runimo asked David.

David held the paper up, chewing on the candy, as the words wrote themselves onto the slip.

"...Huh. Golden eyes tell golden lies. A gentle hand means to do you harm." David said. "I don't think these make much sense. It is good as a novelty though I guess, but you might want to work on them more."

Hex only shrugged, and Runimo handed David his piece of paper. The words had already written themselves on there.

"What does mine say?" He asked. David took the paper and brought it up.

"The path to your future is paved with injustice. It begins with a ruse, and ends with a universal truth." David handed Runimo back the slip of paper. "These are kind of depressing, buddy, I don't think people are going to buy them if they just keep getting weird ominous junk."

"I suppose you may be right," Hex said, "I think I have to tweak the enchantment some. Perhaps I'll refrain from giving out the rest of them. The candy good at least?"

"Oh yeah, the candy is good." David said with a nod. "The tart sells it I think."

"Appreciated." Hex said. "How about one more thing, on me? Nothing fancy, but hopefully considerably less depressing."

Runimo and David couldn't help but snicker a little, and Runimo tucked his fortune into his satchel as Hex grabbed a couple of things off the table. Runimo didn't even have to ask what he was being handed, as David made it clear right off the bat.

"Oh lessers, wands?" He said, upon being handed one.

"Sure," Hex said, "but don't get too eager. I only do this because I make these in mass, so they're not really personalized to your magic."

"Don't these take a ridiculous amount of effort to make anyway?" Runimo asked, feeling the one he'd been handed. It was light and smooth, with a cool band of metal around the handle. He could feel a gem embedded into the band, something smooth, not cut.

"I mean I could take them back if it makes you uncomfortable." Hex said. David nudged Runimo.

"No no, we'll keep them for sure." David said. "I mean, even if quality suffers a little, I'm not going to lie, these things are usually expensive. You'd have to be a pretty big idiot to pass up free wands."

"I figured as much." Hex said. "Go easy on them now. They're made resilient, but I don't think they'll take big surges of magic. I'm still working on that."

"You sure make a lot of stuff yourself." Runimo said. "That's pretty cool. How long have you been doing it?"

"Oh, maybe about two years. I didn't start until I was seventeen."

"Wh– wait you're only–" Hex cut Runimo off.

"Oh, I think you ought to get going, haven't you?" He said. "The sigil on that packaging doesn't look like it's made to last real long, you should get that fish in your ice box before it's allowed to get warm. It'll start getting hot out here before long."

Runimo looked down to the package of fish and bottle of sunflower oil he held, and then he tucked the new wand into his bag and picked up his cane again.

"I suppose you're right." Runimo said. "Thank you again for this. I’ll give the wand a whirl, spread the word if it's good and all."

"It would be much appreciated." Hex said, and waved. "Good luck today you two."

The two boys headed off once more, Runimo ready to head home, and when they god out of earshot David spoke up again.

"Well that was weird." He said, and nudged Runimo. "Can you believe he's only nineteen? The guy was huge!"

"Gargoyle hybrid maybe." Runimo said. Very unusual to see in the capital. David scoffed as the suggestion.

"With all the free samples and not a single purchase?" He asked.

"Fair point." Runimo replied. "I'm not sure what else is that big though."

"Something we'll have to contemplate later," David said, slapping Runimo's back, "I've got to get back to dad. He wants to get as much help out of me at the shop as he can before I graduate, and I'm sure he'll be opening up any minute now, if he's not already."

"Suppose he'd have quite the fuss to find you're not there." Runimo said with small amusement. "Alright then, I'll see you and Gavin later, if you see him first let him know I said hi."

"Will do!" 

David waved, gesturing wide, before hurrying off and leaving Runimo to head home. Runimo went ahead and kept the cane in hand so that he could relax a bit more on his walk home. As he walked he passed someone headed the opposite direction, back into town.

He caught a strong whiff of coffee, as if the grounds had been shoved in his face.

He stopped and turned to look behind him, but when he did nobody was there. He paused, watching people further away walk back and forth, before turning back ahead on his path. After another beat he continued on his way, shaking his head.

Nerves, perhaps. He would be dealing with demons today after all. Someone walks by with a cup to go, and suddenly he thinks he’s smelling dark magic everywhere.