#i did research into guides but that can only get me so far... i hope i can get better at it quickly

[vibelladonna]

✑ 𝓉𝒽𝑒𝒾𝓇 𝓀𝒾𝓃𝓀𝓈 𝜗𝜚 𝓈𝑜𝓁 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝒸𝓇𝑜𝓌𝑒

· ─────── ⋆⋅ 🝣 ⋅⋆ ─────── · 

Didn't expect me to write more about Sol, did you? Honestly, I needed to do more research into his character, after all, since I kinda ignored him in the game as soon as Crowe showed up. Like, no wonder he did what he thought he had to do.  

𝒸𝑜𝓃𝓉𝑒𝓃𝓉 𝓌𝒶𝓇𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔: 18+ NO KIDS (Adults Only) This content contains mature themes unsuitable for children. Please respect the creator's intentions. 

I mixed a bit of canon and my headcanons for Crowe and Sol in this one—yep, once again! This time, I kept it focused on just four kinks to keep it short and sweet. I'm still learning about the BDSM community, and honestly, it's been really eye-opening.

A close friend (college roommate: adding on the fact she adores Sol—Sorry not sorry, love) of mine has been super helpful, sharing and explaining things about the BDSM scene to add more depth to my writing.

A lot of my inspiration comes from her, along with the Tumblr fanfic community and the original creator's work. I try to blend what feels true to the characters while throwing in my own twist. Hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it!

Starting, I’ve noticed that TKATB fans have their unique preferences when it comes to Sol or Crowe.

For example, fans who gravitate toward Sol tend to enjoy the idea of him being dominant—whether it’s being in control of him or just envisioning him taking charge. It’s that mix of power and intensity that gets people excited. You know who you are, you freaks!

On the other hand, fans of Crowe are drawn to his reliability, his deep understanding, and his caring nature. He’s willing to guide you through anything, offering both emotional support and strength. It’s comforting, isn’t it? And yes, I’m a freak too—I get it.

✑ 𝒸𝓇𝑜𝓌𝑒

Naturally, I had to start with my man—Jericho, or Crowe, as he's known. He exudes a mysterious, almost savior-like presence, though the details are still unclear. I WANNA KNOW SO BAD.

His style is effortlessly sharp, and his quiet confidence makes him instantly trustworthy. Reliable, steady, and composed, Crowe is the perfect support when life feels overwhelming. His charm is subtle, blending good looks with an alluring personality—irresistible, without ever being flashy. 

Now, let’s address the question: Can you see Crowe as kinky?

At first glance, no. Not. To a stranger, he’s too put together, with not even the faintest hint of anything unconventional beneath the surface. But as you get to know him, that answer begins to shift. Slowly, subtly, he reveals a side of himself that hints at complexity—an edge just beneath his polished exterior. However, don’t expect anything extreme or overtly wild.

What he does reveal is never too much but always just enough to leave you captivated—and maybe, just maybe, a little curious.

✑ Vanilla (Soft Dom…) 

For Crowe preferences! 

He's the ultimate soft, warm partner. Like, you just know he's all about the quiet, comforting vibes. No crazy power dynamics or rough kinks—he's all about that steady, affectionate love. It's Vanilla, but in the best way possible, full of layers. He’s not rushing anything, just enjoying the little things, taking his time, and making sure you feel heard and cherished. 

When you're with him, it's all slow and gentle—he’s not here for intense extremes. His love is patient, thoughtful, and wrapped in warmth. Every touch, every word, is like a soft caress, just so deliberate and tender. 

And honestly? There's no need for anything crazy. Crowe's happy to explore your connection, build that trust, and just savor the passion that grows naturally between you two. It's the kind of love that builds and lingers long after. 

Now… Crowe might be a soft dom—nah he IS A SOFT DOM.

Crowe’s not the type to push you past your limits just for the thrill of it. He’s not into playing mind games or testing how far he can take things. No, Crowe’s power is the quiet kind, the kind that makes you feel safe without even having to try. He knows the real strength is in taking care of someone, not in forcing them into anything they’re not ready for.  

When you’re with him, it’s like he’s always tuned into you, always listening, always aware of exactly what you need. He’s the guy who doesn’t take, but gives—gives you everything he can, with a level of care that’s almost overwhelming. And even though he’s gentle, don’t get it twisted—he’s still a tease. He’s the kind of man who’ll leave marks on your skin, a subtle reminder that you're his. But it's all in the way he leads, in that steady hand that takes yours, guiding you through every little moment.  

There’s nothing loud about Crowe—other than his moans and whining. I SWEAR he has pretty moans.

He doesn’t demand anything and doesn’t rush you, but he has this way of making you feel like you’re the only person in the room. When he touches you, it’s with a confidence that leaves you breathless but also comforted. He’ll press his forehead against yours, his hand guiding yours down to your stomach, just so you can feel his bulge inside you,how much he wants you, how much he’s thinking about you at that moment. 

There’s no need for words—just that connection, that intense eye contact that says everything.  

But yeah, he’ll also let you think you have the upper hand for a minute. Let you believe you’ve got him cornered, like you're finally taking control… only for him to flip the switch, regaining control without you even realizing.  

With Crowe, it’s not about begging or pleading for pleasure—it’s about your happiness, your satisfaction. His version of dominance is the kind that wraps around you like a warm blanket, soft and cozy. He just wants to see you smile, hear you laugh—moan, and whine under him, and know that every moment spent with him is full of happiness.  

So, if you're into a soft dom who values deep emotional connection, tenderness, and affection, Crowe’s your man! He just wants you to trust him, to let go and let him care for you. Let him be there for you in every single way, in every moment. 

And in that, he gives you all the security you’ll ever need.

✑ Praise (giving + receiving)

Crowe is all about Praise, and affection through words. Imagine him pulling you close, whispering in your ear while his fingers gently trace patterns along your skin. 

“You’re such a good girl for me, look at how well you take me, love. That’s my girl, always so ready for me, aren’t you?” His words make you feel safe, wanted, and cherished.

He doesn’t wait for you to ask for reassurance—he gives it freely, letting you know how much he appreciates having you around, and how much he loves seeing you smile. And when it comes to your body? He knows every inch of it like he’s got a personal map of your every curve and spot. He might even joke, “No one will ever know you like I do. I’ve ruined you for everyone else, haven’t I?”

Crowe has this vibe about him, like he’s always hungry to make sure you're feeling amazing, but don’t forget to show him some love, too. He thrives on hearing you praise him, especially when you whisper how much you need him, and how much he’s doing for you. The sound of your voice, the words you say—they get to him, melt him down until his heart's pounding.

Now and then, he’ll pull back, checking in on you, “You okay? Am I pushing you too far?” It’s not just about the rush for him. He wants you to be comfortable, to be in sync with him as he takes you through everything, slow and steady, giving you all that love. “That’s it, you're doing so well,” he’ll say, his voice smooth like syrup, making sure you know you're adored.

But here’s the thing: if you keep praising him, or if you’re the one in control, just wait. Crowe’s mouth? It’ll get filthy. AND I MEAN FILTHY. He can’t help it, don't be mean now...

I mean, you can. You giving him head? Taking his cock deep inside your throat, feeling he's about to cum, then you pulled back, teasing him. He'll say, "Please, my love, you were doing so good on my cock—please, please, keep going, I need that tongue of yours."

One of his favorite things is when you’re so into it that he can just forget what you say and speak directly to you, but in a way that’ll make your body react before your mind even catches up. Like, he’ll whisper, “God, you taste so damn good. Missed me, huh? Just wanna be filled up, don't you?”

His words drip against you, his eyes dark with heat, like he's speaking to your body, not even acknowledging your moans. “Such a good fucking pussy. Always making me feel so damn good. Want me to stuff you full, hm?”

And when it’s all done? Crowe doesn’t just drop it and move on. He’s got aftercare down to an art. He’ll guide you through it, keep you close, making sure you’re okay, settled, and cared for, getting ready to do it all again whenever you’re ready!

✑ Experimentalist

Crowe is the kind of man who never wants to leave any stone unturned, especially when it comes to experiences.

There was something about him that screamed experimentalist—like he needed to try everything, no matter how wild or unconventional. When it came to relationships, he was always up for anything, which meant he'd probably had more relationship experiences than most people you knew. 

His mind is open, impossibly so, and he had an insatiable curiosity that could never be satisfied. He’d never form an opinion on something without diving in and getting his first-hand taste. If there was something new to try, something out-of-the-box—Crowe was there, ready to explore. 

And honestly? He didn’t even need you to ask twice. If you suggested something wild, he’d be all in—his enthusiasm infectious, his curiosity never-ending.

However, he's pretty vanilla when it comes to experimenting, so don't expect him to go TOO hardcore. If there's a kink suited to his taste and he masters it? Oh, Babe, you'll feel it—so much in fact.

Take ropes, for example. Blindfolds? Handcuffs? Oh, he is intrigued. But, again, don’t expect anything brutal. He isn't the type to be into floggers or paddles; no, pain isn't needed for his skills. It is his anticipation. The slow burn of him carefully tying you up, not in a rush, but with the kind of patience that made every moment last longer. 

When his hands hovered over your skin, it wasn’t just touch—it was electric. He’d make sure to linger, let his fingers graze over every inch, just enough to make you shiver, your breath hitching in the air between you. It wasn’t about hurting you, not at all. No, it was all about the build-up—the moment when the ropes or restraints were placed just so, tightening the tension between you both until it was practically unbearable. 

And then? When you finally let go, it was a release so sweet and steady that it left you breathless. No rushing, no quick fixes—just a slow, fulfilling pleasure.

Adding on, Crowe loved the idea of restraint. Whether for fun, for art, or for that extra little spark of excitement, there was something about having you completely at his mercy. 

And if you ever flipped the script? If he was the one getting tied up? Like I said, Crowe will be just as filthy when he lets his guard down. 

✑ Dacryphillia

Okay, hear me out. I know what you’re thinking—"Crowe? He would never hurt me. Why would he want to see me cry?" And I get it, really. This is one of those wild ideas but just stick with me for a second.

You know how he’s all about emotions and deep connections, right? Get it?

He gets this deep fascination with what you feel and show, especially when it’s raw. Here’s where it gets interesting: Dacryphilia. Yeah, I’m talking about that thing where someone gets... well, aroused by tears, by the sound of you sobbing, the whole mess of emotions. 

So, let’s imagine this: You’re begging him, pleading for more. Your face is a mess of emotions, eyes watery, tears rolling down your cheeks. And yeah, he’s gonna ask if you’re okay because that’s the kind of man he is—always checking, always making sure. But if you keep begging for more? Oh, that’s when it gets dangerous. 

Each desperate plea of yours, each tremor in your voice, just fuels this fire inside him, an all-consuming fire. His eyes? They’re practically glowing, deep blue, and locked on you like he's drowning in you, in every little thing you’re feeling.

You can feel him there, so close you can almost taste his breath on your skin. His lips brush against your ear, a soft, teasing whisper sending shivers down your spine. "So desperate for me already, huh? We haven’t even gotten to the fun part yet..." His voice is low, and dangerous, like he’s savoring every second of this.

You know he’s enjoying this. Every inch of him is hooked, and once he has you like this, there’s no going back.

Crowe’s could be teasing you for what feels like hours, driving you wild with a mix of pleasure and frustration. He’s pulled every bit of sensation from you, your body trembling with each orgasm, each touch—until you’re left aching for more. You’ve come undone on his fingers, his tongue, but now, you’re desperate in a way that makes your chest ache. You need him, inside of you, filling you up, but he’s holding back. Just barely, he brushes against you, grinning at the whine that slips from your lips.

His head teases your entrance, and you can’t stop yourself from begging, voice shaky, "Please... Please, please." You repeated. Tears burn at the corners of your eyes, blurring your vision as they fall helplessly. The emptiness without him feels unbearable.

Crowe tilted his head, the smirk on his face practically dripping with playful mockery. “Just please?” He dragged the word out slowly, eyes twinkling with mischief. “Tell me what you want. Can’t do anything unless you say it. What is it you’re begging for?” His hand slid up your stomach, hand pushing lightly as if testing the waters. 

He leaned in, his breath hot against your ear, the playful glint in his eyes shifting into something darker, more calculating. “You want me to fill you up, don’t you?”

His grin stretched wider as you stumbled over your words, desperate and disordered, pleading for more. He could tell you were unraveling, and it only pushed him further, each whimper was like a small victory. 

“You’re falling apart, love,” he murmured, his voice low and dangerous. “Don’t worry, I’ll give you what you need... just say the word.” You could barely focus as the desperation built into your chest. His control over you was unnerving, yet exhilarating. The tears on your cheeks were a mix of frustration and need, a silent scream for him. 

“I need you, Crowe. Please...” Your voice was broken, but he was the one who was in control, studying the way you reacted like a willing experiment.

Crowe’s hand lifts gently to your cheek, his thumb brushing away the tears streaming down your face. He gives you a soft grin, his voice low and teasing. “Already crying for me, huh?” he murmurs, almost amused. His thumb, slick with your tears, slips past your lips, letting you taste the salty remnants of your emotions. "We’ve just started," he adds, a soft chuckle escaping him. 

Before you can respond, his hips jerk forward, pushing into you with one swift, forceful motion. The shock of it makes your breath catch, and Crowe can’t help but smirk, his eyes glinting with that dangerous, experimental gleam.

Every move, calculated and deliberate, is part of his twisted exploration. And you? You’re the willing subject.

✑ 𝓈𝑜𝓁

Sol is described as a “stinky basement-dwelling yandere”—ngl, this alone made me laugh. He’s a quiet kid, the one who lingered at the edges of every room, observing, never quite fitting in.

Beneath his reserved exterior was a complexity most couldn’t fathom. He’s incredibly smart, with a sharpness that slipped through his words when he spoke, though he rarely bothered to. His talents leaned toward the arts, paintings, and writings.

And yet, at the end of the day, Sol isn’t exactly smooth. He was hopelessly inexperienced when it came to relationships. He gets no bitches, and honestly, he probably doesn’t even try. But in his inexperience is a certain rawness, and once you did get to know him, he’ll flirt or charm you. But before, he just watched and wanted.  

Now, let’s address the question: Can you see Sol as kinky?

Yes, let’s not sugarcoat it—he is kinky asf. Of course, he is. There was no way someone as quiet and repressed as Sol didn’t have a horny side, one he tried to keep buried but couldn’t fully hide due to his love for you. 

✑ Switch (A Pervert…)

Now, about Sol’s... preferences. 

From reading his relationship information card and playing the game. He is a paradox, a Switch in every sense of the word. He didn’t neatly fit into the mold of “always dominant” or “forever submissive.” Oh no, that would be far too mundane for someone like him. He's not a standard yandere people.

Sol is a man of extremes, a “pervert” in the most endearing, shameless sense of the word. He believed in living freely, without the shackles of societal expectations or traditional constraints. Ethics, morality, conventional roles—he’d toss them aside without hesitation if they stood in the way of his desires.   

When he takes the reins as Dominant, Sol is the type to lean into theatrics, pushing boundaries with a devilish grin and that mischievous gleam in his eyes. He had a talent for making the experience unforgettable, for making you feel as though the entire world had melted away, leaving only the two of you. But when the tables turned, when Sol found himself in the more submissive role, he’d throw himself into it with equal fervor. 

He’d challenge you to prove your worth, tease and push until you stepped up to the plate, and then—when you finally did—he’d surrender so completely that it'll feel like a victory worth savoring.  

To Sol, sex and relationships weren’t just about power dynamics or tradition. They were a playground for exploration, a place where the only rule was to follow what felt right. With his “anything goes” mentality, Sol turned every interaction into a kaleidoscope of passion and unpredictability. 

As mentioned, Sol, can’t help himself when it comes to you.

Let’s say he has this thing—Voyeuristic Disorder, to be precise, a fancy word for being a pervert. Dosn't care to see anyone else naked. Only you he wishes to see. He was obsessed with watching you, whether you knew it or not. In public or private, it didn’t matter.

He just liked being there, lurking in the shadows, soaking in every moment. Watching you do the most intimate things, completely unaware that he was there. 

There was something so exhilarating about seeing you—your bare skin, the way you moved, the little things you did when you thought no one was watching. He couldn’t resist. The way your body reacted, the sounds you made when you didn’t know he was there—it was all he needed. 

Deadass, I’m shocked that the creator of the game never added a specific scene where you were taking care of yourself in bed—you freak, oblivious to him sneaking a peek from the window, his hand on his cock, jacking himself off, doing exactly what he does best. Watching. 

He didn’t let societal norms dictate how he expressed himself or who he loved. He was unapologetically himself—messy, chaotic, and a little too intense for most people’s taste. But for those brave enough to step into his world, you, well, if you picked him, that is.

Sol will offer an experience unlike any other: one filled with unrelenting honesty, unbridled passion, and a love that refuses to be anything less than extraordinary.  

✑ Praise (Receiving)

Sol isn't the type of man you’d peg as desperate for validation—at least, not at first glance. His sharp, confident exterior gave the impression of someone who had the world at his feet, who didn’t flinch under pressure or crack beneath judgmental stares. 

But peel back the layers of this supposed nonchalant and cool type of man, and you’d find a truth that was much more human, much more raw. Sol craved praise. Why? Perhaps it was the lack of it throughout his life. His track record for romance was, let’s say, less than impressive. Not because he lacked charm or good looks—he had both in spades—but because his overbearing aura and unapologetic eccentricities tended to drive most people away. 

They didn’t understand him, couldn’t see past the way he challenged conventions. He wore his "loser" title like armor. After all, who cared if he didn’t have admirers lined up at his door? He didn’t need anyone... right? Yet, when someone, such as you, did manage to offer him an honest compliment, something sincere, it was like watching a dam break. 

His confident smirk would falter for a second, his eyes softening, betraying the vulnerability he worked so hard to conceal. Sol wasn’t accustomed to receiving love—real, genuine love—and when it came, it hit him like a truck

✑ Masochist

The first time you noticed Sol’s tendency to endure pain, you’d thought it was just his stubborn nature. He’s always been the type to wear his emotions on his sleeve when it came to you—raw, unfiltered, and unapologetically vulnerable. But as time went on, you began to see something deeper beneath that tough, rebellious exterior. 

Sol wasn’t just someone who endured pain; he seemed to embrace it…? almost thrive on it, especially when it comes to you.

Sol is, without a doubt, a masochist. Not in the twisted, sadistic sense, but in an almost heartbreaking way. He’d do anything to please you, to earn your attention—even if it meant enduring the unendurable. 

He could never be a sadist. No, he loved you too much to ever inflict pain on you, physically or emotionally. The very thought of hurting you would make his stomach churn. Instead, he channeled all his devotion into being by your side, no matter the cost.

There were moments when his tendencies became painfully obvious. Like he gets into fights back to back, defending himself or you—for example, the movie theater bathroom or the Campus library (With or without.)

You hadn’t/have even been there to witness it—Sol hadn’t wanted you to see him like that, bruised and bloody. But when you found out later, he brushed it off with that crooked grin of his, the one that hid just how far he’d go for you. “It’s nothing,” he’d said, wiping the blood from his lip. “They deserved it for talking about you like that.”

Or that time with Crowe. It had been an innocent moment, just you laughing at something Crowe said, but to Sol, it might as well have been a dagger to his chest. He clenched his fists so tightly that his knuckles turned white, nails digging into his palms until they drew blood. He didn’t want to feel that way—jealousy mixed with self-loathing—but he couldn’t help it. Watching you walk away with someone else, even for a moment, was unbearable. 

It wasn’t that he enjoyed the pain; it was just that he could handle it, even when it tore him apart inside.  

And in the quiet, intimate moments, Sol’s masochistic streak became something else entirely. If you picked him willingly, He’ll trust you, and loved you, enough to let down every last defense he had. He didn’t just endure pain; with you, he could find meaning in it. 

A sharp bite, nails dragging down his back—he shivered under your touch, his body responding in ways he didn’t fully understand but didn’t question. For him, it wasn’t just about the sensation; it was about the connection, the way it brought him closer to you.  

Masochism, for Sol, wasn’t about pain tolerance. It wasn’t about how much he could take. It was about the way he found a strange, twisted kind of comfort in it. The pain wasn’t the point; it was the context, the giver—you. Sol would never seek out pain for its own sake, but if it was for you, if it meant being close to you, he’d endure anything.  

Even in the game, he seemed to attract hardship like a magnet, always the one taking the hits—physically and emotionally. Whether it was the bullies who thought he was an easy target or the way he seemed to hurt himself just to prove his devotion to you, Sol carried it all with a quiet, unshakable resolve. Because, at the end of the day, it wasn’t about the pain. It was about you.  

And he’d never stop. For Sol, loving you wasn’t just a choice—it was a part of who he was. If being close to you meant enduring the worst the world could throw at him, he’d take it all with a smile. Because that’s who Sol is. A damn masochist.  

And he wouldn’t have it any other way.  

✑ Somnophillia 

It was inevitable, wasn’t it? Everyone could see this coming from a mile away—there was simply no other possibility. Sol, in all his twisted complexity, had long blurred the line between obsession and affection, his love taking on forms most would never dare to comprehend. 

Some might accuse him of holding darker urges, like necrophilia, drawn to the lifelessness of the dead. But no, that isn’t Sol. Despite his obsessions, there was a deep-rooted sentimentality within him—a refusal to let go, to lose. If anything, he had made it clear in his own hauntingly poetic way: he’d rather die with you than live without you. 

Yet, that didn’t mean his desires were any less unnerving. No, Sol’s particular brand of affection manifested in somnophilia, a fascination with the vulnerability of sleep, the beauty of your unconscious form. To him, those moments were sacred—your body relaxed, your mind adrift in dreams. It was when he felt closest to you, unguarded and free from the chaos of the waking world.  

Before your relationship, it started innocuously enough—or so it seemed. He’d find ways to end up at your apartment, invited by some pretense or perhaps even through sheer charisma. And then, ever so subtly, he’d lace your drink with something to make you drowsy, to keep you from suspecting as his fingers ghosted on you. 

You lay there, utterly still, utterly serene, your chest rising and falling with the kind of peaceful rhythm that seemed to still the chaos of the world around you.  

It was maddening, the way you looked so untouched by the noise that haunted him, your lips slightly parted, the barest whisper of breath escaping them. Every exhale was a siren call, soft and unassuming, but it gripped him like a vice.  

His gaze wandered, helplessly drawn down the curve of your cheek to your lips. They looked soft, and inviting in a way that felt almost cruel. He wanted to press his own to them, to taste whatever peace you’d found and see if he could borrow just a fraction of it for himself.  

But it wasn’t just your lips. His eyes traced lower, following the lines of your body, the way your clothes clung to you, hinting at the form beneath. He shouldn’t be thinking like this—he knew he shouldn’t. And yet the thought of you, warm and pliant beneath him, invaded his mind, unrelenting.  

He swallowed hard, trying to shake it off, but the more he fought, the more vivid the thoughts became. The sound of your soft sighs, the way you’d move under his touch, how you’d look at him—not like this, not sleepily and unaware, but awake, wanting.  

God, he was losing it.  

Sol leaned back, running a hand through his hair, forcing his gaze away from you for a moment. But it didn’t matter—your image was burned into his mind, and there was no escape. Watching you sleep was his guilty pleasure, though his guilt barely lasted long enough to stop him from pressing further. 

Once the two of you were together, the dynamics shifted, but only slightly. Sol’s obsession deepened, and the lines of consent became more of a gray haze in his mind. To him, love was devotion���complete and all-encompassing. And if you loved him, shouldn’t you accept him entirely? Shouldn’t you trust him to care for you, even when you weren’t awake to see it? 

He was careful, always so careful with you, so don’t worry! 

His lips found their way to the sensitive curve of your inner thigh, his movements slow and deliberate as if savoring every second of this quiet moment. You stirred faintly, a sleepy whimper escaping your lips as the warmth of his mouth brushed against you, teasing and tender. S

Sol’s hands gripped your hips gently but firmly; his fingers splayed across your skin to hold you in place. You tried to shift, your body instinctively responding to the soft, wet pressure of his tongue, but his strength was unyielding.

“Shh,” he murmured, his voice a low, gravelly whisper in the stillness. One hand slid up to brush a stray lock of hair from your face, his thumb lingering for a moment as he marveled at the serene expression you wore, so unaware of the devotion he poured into every touch. “You’re even more beautiful like this,” he breathed, his words an intimate confession meant only for the dark.

To Sol, this was everything. 

This was the essence of love itself—intimacy beyond words, a bond that transcended anything others could hope to understand. He wasn't like anyone else; he knew that, and perhaps that’s what made this feel so special. So sacred. There was a quiet possessiveness in the way he worshiped you, a deep yearning to etch himself into every corner of your being, to ensure no one else could ever touch the part of you that belonged to him.

And as you stirred again, a soft moan escaping your lips, Sol smirked against your skin, the faintest edge of smug satisfaction curling at the corner of his mouth. You might not fully wake, but you’d feel him—his touch, his adoration. You’d know, even in sleep, that you were his world.

To be with him, you’d have to accept all of him. Every tender smile, every soft whisper... and every shadowed obsession that came with it. 

· ─────── ⋆⋅ 🝣 ⋅⋆ ─────── · 

[bmpmp3]

Audine :)

[princessbrunette]

… and now introducing, the 10K follower special… ᙏ̤̫ ✧༚

OBX - the nsfw alphabet guide ♡

dearest boobettes,

thank you for 10k followers, whewie how time flies! i am forever grateful for the majority support, kindness and above all patience you’ve exhibited especially during times where real life gets in the way and i needed to step away from writing. i hope you continue to chortle away with me in my asks & enjoy my silly little drabbles,

love from princess ^_^ ♡

A IS FOR… aftercare, ft. pope heyward ♡

it goes without saying, pope has done his research and has engaged in copious amounts of conversations on your boundaries. after sex, he overthinks — massively, always worried that he got caught up in the throes of passion and somehow became aggressive or forceful (…spoiler alert, he didn’t! not to a degree you didn’t thoroughly enjoy, anyway.) therefore, he needs to know what you need, pretty immediately too - almost too an annoying degree.

“hey, too far? tell me what you need baby.” he’s cradling you before you’ve even caught your breath.

“mmph—”

“lets use our words, yeah?” your eyes are shut, but you know that stressed crinkle is sitting right between his brows.

“just wanna lay.” you whine, and he knows that tone means to stop pressing you. if laying is what you want, it’s what you’ll get. he knows he won’t be able to help himself from jumping up to clean you up soon enough, but for now he’s happy to indulge in your sticky embrace, stroking your head and telling you just how good you were.

B IS FOR… body parts, ft. bunny!reader x rafe ♡

rafes favourite body part of bunny’s is undoubtably her lips. there’s just something about them, the shape of them, the colour of them — that makes her always get her way with him. whether she’s pouting them, batting her long lashes when she’s in trouble or painting them with a sparkly gloss, one he probably bought her that week that she’ll leave printed around his cock later on — he can never keep his eyes of them. her tits are pretty fantastic too though, he must say.

bunny’s favourite body part of rafe’s? but there’s just too many to pick one! she is particularly fond of his shoulders and chest and it shows, always stroking down his torso when she’s speaking to him — the muscle beneath his polo perfectly pudged from exercise without being too firm, also making the perfect board for her to scratch her manicured nails down while getting put through the mattress.

C IS FOR… cum, ft.kitty!reader x jj ♡

there is something spiritual about the way kitty interacts with jj’s cum— like she swears she can tell what he’s eaten, how many sips of water he’s had that day and what the weather was like just from the taste of it. she’d lift her head from his crotch, mascara dwelling beneath her eyes as she smacks her lips thoughtfully, waiting for the blonde to catch his breath.

his ringed hand is still planted atop her head, supporting her limp neck as he looks down at her through spent and lidded eyes. “how y’feeling bae?” he queries, noting the pensive look on her face.

“all caffeine.” she hums, brows furrowing. jj blinks.

“y—…uh, what?”

“you didn’t drink any water today? not even a little? what did i tell you? you can’t survive off redbull!” she squints all pissed off, even her nose balling up as jj watches her rise up from her position.

“aint no way.”

D IS FOR… dirty secret, ft. john b x puppy!reader ♡

well, it was his dirty secret. you guess you could say d is also for dad, because that’s what he likes being called the most in the bedroom. it fills some… sick hole in his heart, fuels this odd complex he has around pup. he likes that she relies so much on him, he’s always taken the leadership role in any group so when it’s just the two of them it only feels right. it started off as daddy of course, but he’ll always remember that one sweaty night, roughly 4AM and they’d been going at it for hours, her legs over his shoulders, thick cock hitting that abused spongy spot until the word transformed before his very ears.

“mm—mm—mm—daddy—daddy—dad… dad!” it was music to his ears. apparently enough to have him blow his load at the drop of a hat.

E IS FOR… experience, ft. mouse!reader x jj x pope ♡

until she met jj and pope, she’d never even kissed anyone. well — she tells people she had, one guy — but the one guy in question was her one and only boyfriend in fourth grade (who then dumped her the next day because he wanted to ‘focus on powerangers’. she hates powerangers to this day.) it’s not to feed into her whole innocent aesthetic, you know with the baby pinks and the ballet and the glittery blusher dusted on the apples of her cheeks, no. she was just painfully shy— too touch starved to even imagine herself being intimate.

it wasn’t until she was sat in the middle of jj and pope on her bed, asking them if they could kiss eachother first to ease her nerves before she could kiss them — that she realised how badly she’d been missing out.

F IS FOR… favourite position, ft. lord!rafe ♡

when sabrina carpenter says ‘have you ever tried this one?’ referring to an unnamed sex position on her hit song, juno — the chances are, with lord!rafe, you had. the man was creative, especially when he was high, wanting to see just how far you’d contort and push yourself to submit to him. to bend to his will. but at the end of the day, he was just a man — and he craved that deep intimacy that his favourite pledge could give him, and that was a mating press.

“you like this, hm? feeling all— all close like this huh?” he pants in your face, your knees squished to you in a way that made it hard to breathe, especially with the way he was brutalising your hole.

“mm, mhm. thank you lord.” your voice is spitty and pleading and he chuckles through his exhales.

“yeah. like this one the most. get to see the life leave your fuckin eyes when i pull out. you just want that seed so fuckin bad don’t you baby?” he basically growling so you know he’s close. your eyes struggle not to roll back at the feeling.

“yes. yes lord!” your voice breaks.

“well that’s too bad baby. that’s too fuckin’ bad.”

G IS FOR… goofy, ft. jj x deer!reader ♡

much like mouse!reader, deer is a tough one to crack due to her shyness. however, through hard work and determination — jj discovered that the best way to get her to ease up and let go, was to quite literally giggle her out her panties.

“these are pretty.” he compliments her, warm breath on her neck as they both look between their bodies at her frilly white panties, a red bow at the centre which he plucks at gently. when he feels her tense up, he raises an eyebrow with a playful expression — letting her know it’s still just him, still her silly jj. “can i borrow ‘em?”

she busts into a fit of giggles, and whilst distracted — jj grins, sliding the fabric down her thighs as she writhes elatedly. “what? don’t think they’d suit me?” he keeps her happy and the vibes up as he parts her thighs, her giggles turning into slow breaths. his grin melts into a smirk, prompting an answer. “hm?”

“w—well— i was j—just—”

“mmmhm. yeah, i know. it’s okay baby.” he cooes, lulling her into being just a little more limp for him.

H IS FOR… hair, ft.john b ♡

john b is super hairy down there, never seeming to have the time to groom himself. the hair on his head is thick and wavy, and that’s not exception to his downstairs either, enough to bury your face in whilst deep throating his girthy length, the hair even crawling up his happy trail to his belly button. the sight when he stretches, arms lifted over his head causing his shirt to rise up and expose it has trained your mouth to water.

equally, if anyone is gonna advocate for you having a bush — it’s him. he had access to a load of his dads porno magazines from the 70s that he thought he’d hidden, so since he was younger he’d always had an affection for a pretty lil tuft peeking out some pretty panties. hey, it’s your body your choice as he’d be adamant on telling you — but if you wanted to give up shaving for a little while, he’d have zero objections.

many nights would be spent with his hand just affectionately patting your mound through your panties in bed before casually slipping his hand inside, twirling his fingers around some of the wiry hair.

“john b.” you’d scold, a little hot in the face.

“what, babe? getting a pretty neat bouquet going on down here. love it.”

I IS FOR…intimacy, ft. starwars!au!pope ♡

each time captain pope fucks you, he never knows if it’s going to potentially be his last time before he gets shipped off to some far away planet where all communication with you is severed. hell, sometimes he’s not sure if he’s ever going to make it back from his mission at all.

because of this, when he sneaks away from the bunks to fly to your apartment and spend a night with you — he fucks you like it’s the last time. skin to skin, direct, watery eye contact, arms wrapped around you like he’s never going to let you go as he rolls his hips, sweat dripping down his back.

“stars, i love you. i love you i love you. fuck, i fucking love you.” he groans, eyes fighting to stay open because he doesn’t wanna miss a moment of you, needing to ingrain your image into his brain for those lonely nights away.

“i love you pope. my pope.” you’d cry out, like it was a promise — and it was. a promise to be together properly one day with nothing and no one standing in between.

J IS FOR jack off, ft. stepbro!rafe ♡

before your parents married and you moved into tanny hill, rafe thought he jacked off a normal amount for someone his age. it was like you hit this switch, left him fumbling for control of his own body. it was no wonder he was so angry all the time, you had his hormones going haywire like some kind of teenager.

he was certain he’d had to quickly beat one out in nearly every room of the house. he’d see you in the kitchen, reaching up to a shelf that was a little too high for you — your shirt rising up, tits pressed to the fabric, underwear peeking from the waistband of your shorts and he’d be zipping out the room to relieve himself in the bathroom. he sees you out by the pool, slathering greasy spf over your skin, oiling yourself up in your bikini making you look like some kind of pornstar, and he’s taking a risk — standing in the empty window downstairs, hoping no one enters the room as he tugs one out.

you can’t even do your laundry in peace, rafe worried about the wrong load when he walks in and is confronted directly by the sight of you bent over the washer, digging around for that one pesky sock. he could just take you. right here, right now— but instead he ends up blowing his cum into his own sock that never made it into the wash pile back in his room.

he’ll pass your bedroom, and you’ll be out — so he’ll take the liberty to blow a load into a pair of your used panties in the hamper. you didn’t do anything to trigger him this time, but he felt like you owed him that at least, for all the times you’d unknowingly teased him.

K IS FOR… kink, ft. receptionist!reader x fireman!john b x fireman!jj ♡

unsurprising to all, the sweet receptionist bunking in a tiny apartment with two beefy firemen definitely has a fantasy or two. she knows the realities of how scary these fires can be, so she always feels a little guilty in indulging in being a damsel in distress in her daydreams, her two boys coming to save her from a smoky building before taking her home, spreading her out on the bed and making her feel all better, the two of them still greasy, soot staining their clothes and the scent of smoke radiating from them.

sometimes they get home from their shift when she’s mid fantasy with her hand down her panties and suddenly has to dive out of bed to greet them, all disheveled with her pupils dilated to the moon and back.

“you uh… alright there sweetie?” jj plays into it, knowing something was a miss, smirking. she swallows thickly, nodding unconvincingly.

“mhm! you guys just caught me by surprise! i was uh, napping.” her voice still trembles.

“hold on, you do look a little flushed.” john b touches the back of her neck and her knees buckle. but luckily his fireman instincts kick in and he catches her with ease. god, this was just like her fantasies. “lets lay you down, okay?”

L IS FOR… location, ft. pizzadeliveryboy!pope ♡

when fitting pope into your seriously tight schedule — sometimes it was just the most convenient to fuck in a rather odd location. your car and the kitchen of your house were good enough to get the job done — but popes favourite location to have fucked you in had to be the bathroom of the pizza place he worked at.

now, usually — he was a stickler for rules. the violation of his work place would normally make him shudder, but it was just the way you’d marched in there, so publicly, leant over the counter and whispered “i need it now.”

safe to say you were not talking about extra pepperonis.

he took his break early, and hey — it was a slow day, so he wasn’t too worried about ushering you cautiously but quickly into a bathroom cubicle and fighting your shorts down your legs.

“seriously? while i’m working?” he hisses in a whisper and all you can do is giggle, leaning against your cubicle wall and sticking out your ass temptingly. you match his whisper at full volume, in the moment not caring who hears. it was the closest he could get to a public declaration of love and desire.

“dont complain. know you’ve been thinkin’ about it.”

he definitely had been, so he shuts up and gets to work.

M IS FOR… motivation, ft. shittysoundcloudrapper!jj ♡

what gets jj going, is your eagerness to help him, doing whatever it takes to push and promote his hopeless career in soundcloud rapping. needs a female voice to moan for the backing track again? you’re eagerly setting up the mic and spreading your legs for him. needs a video girl? you’re holding up mini skirts asking which one he thinks you should wear (he says whichever one is shorter.) stuck in a slump with writing lyrics? there’s not much you can do there but spell check them in his notepad with glittery pink pen and make suggestions. each assist made, you do it with the same wide eyed, pleading for approval expression that makes his dick throb.

he didn’t like to admit it, but he was enjoying playing with you too much to make you his certified girlfriend just yet. which makes him kind of a selfish asshole, yes. he just loved watching you melt when he’d come up behind his pretty best friend, grabbing your hips and rocking side to side with you, making you smile because you know he’s about to suck up to you and ask you for something.

“you wanna be my helpful girl?” he hums, and you shudder — instantly and pathetically becoming that wide eyed yes-woman he knows and loves.

“mhm…”

“wow that was eeeeasy mama. you’ll do anything for me, huh?”

“anything.”

N IS FOR… no, ft. daddy!john b x puppy!reader ♡

one thing john b really doesn’t like doing, is pushing pup past her limits — especially as sometimes she doesn’t quite know where they are. when having sex, during particularly intense sessions she gets dazed, unable to think and sometimes even talk for herself because she is just so overwhelmed by emotion and pleasure.

he’d have her face down ass up in the bed, strong arm wrapped around her hips to reach her cunt, rolling her pearl beneath rough fingers as his cock stretches her, collecting cream at the base from her abundance of releases. hes going at a relaxed pace, but pup is limp, unable to let anything out by strained noises.

“hows that sweetheart? we still feeling good?” john b croons, careful not to get lost in his own pleasure to focus on his own. “pup?” he calls when there’s no answer.

that’s a big enough of a red flag for john b to pull out, leaning over her to gently lift her head. her eyes are screwed shut with tears on her cheeks and she’s breathing quickly through her nose. it appears she’s worked herself up into a frenzy. the brunette knows not to panic, as these things happen, simply scooping her naked body into his arms and stroking her head. “how ‘bout a break. okay? did so good for me puppy. juuust need a break. little tiny break.” he punctuates the sentence with a kiss to her crown, doing everything in his power to reassure and soothe her.

O IS FOR…oral, ft. rafe x lamb!reader ♡

with someone as strict as lamb!reader, oral is the loophole rafe needed to get into her panties. in the early days, he weasels head from her — telling her it’s the only way she can properly apologise to him after mouthing off against him after he’d done so much for her. there’s the light threat that he’ll tell on her too if she doesn’t, unspoken and lingering behind their elongated gazes — and that’s enough for her to frantically scamper to her knees, demanding the satin scrunchie from her dresser.

rafe isn’t big on giving oral — but with lamb, he’d see it as a stepping stone into sex. because if he’s eaten her pussy, what’s the point in stopping there? they may aswell go all the way. it’s obscene the way he’d have her on her back on her bed, his knees in both of his hands, spread as far as they’d go revealing her wet, pulsing cunt causing the fabric of her thin white panties to be completely sheered.

“c—can’t, after the first time… i had to beg for forgiveness. if i do this rafe there’s, there’s no going back.” she’s trembling, the poor thing — but not from fear, from need, her clit twitching beneath his gaze just begging to be touched. it was true, religious girls ovulated too.

“yeah? you’d probably start crying if i stopped n’walked away now alright? you want this. no, you — you need this, i can see it with my own two eyes. okay? give in. jesus isn’t watching.” he’s irritable, but if rafe was anything— he wasn’t a total creep. he needed that green light. he needed a yes.

there’s a silence, filled with lambs shuddering and sniffles and he’s honestly about to give up himself before her voice sounds, meek and guilty.

“just… just a little bit. just kiss it a little bit. maybe… maybe touch.”

he huffs out a laugh. sure, just a little bit.

P IS FOR… pace, ft.apocalypse!pope ♡

in a world where everything was a mad dash for safety, sex was the one thing pope liked to take his time with. he saw it as a luxury, a blessing reminding him of his gratitude toward having shelter, safety, warmth, companionship. he was never a risk taker, only ever having one actual ‘quickie’ in an abandoned warehouse when you convince him to take you beyond the gates of kitty hawk. he was stressed the whole time, an eye constantly peeled and unable to fully enjoy you as he bounced you hastily on his cock.

“s’fine popey, no one’s here! nothin’s gonna — mmph— nothin’s gonna happen!”

“you don’t know that. fuck. you better cum. shit.”

back home at the base, he lights candles, lays you down on the blankets in his watch-tower, and gets to work. he rolls his hips languidly, relishing in every noise you make, falling love even deeper when you beg him to go harder, faster. but he never does. sex was one of the few enjoyable things there was left, and he wanted to make each time last. he never knew when it might be the last time, anyway.

Q IS FOR… quickie, ft. farmhand!jj ♡

farmhand!jj on the other hand, he gets off on the thrill of being caught. he doesn’t really want to— but there’s something so scandalous to him about the fact your father is a short walk up the hill, whilst you’re in the barn with him, grinding on his face, calling him daddy.

there’s a rarely a time either of you are able to get fully nude, relying on moving things out the way to put the ‘quick’ in ‘quickie’. he enjoys that element too, taking pleasure in pulling up that little gingham dress and moving your innocent looking panties aside to have his way with the farmers daughter.

he likes to tease you, it’s just apart of his cheeky personality — plucking some hay off your cheek as he fucks into you from the back, hay in your hair and dirt on your cheek on the floor blanket he laid down.

“what would ya’ daddy say, huh? if he saw you like this on his property? ain’t lookin’ too good for you, sweetie.” he teases, tightening his grip on your hips. you whine, which means ‘don’t say that’ in sex talk, barely glancing over your shoulder with hazy puppy dog eyes.

“you’re m’daddy.” you pout in the heat of the moment, pathetically and guiltily making him bark out a mischievous chuckle, biting his tongue.

“yeah? i’m your daddy. okay.” jj repeats with a grin, plucking his hat off his head and dropping it on yours.

R IS FOR… risk, ft. gooner!rafe ♡

look, he’s a rich, white guy in college. he doesn’t care about risks. before you, there wasn’t much risk in his porn obsessed habits, not outside of his search history being revealed anyway. but when he met you, someone who lets him do whatever he wants — it becomes more of a factor.

half way through fucking, he rolls off you, sliding the slippery condom off his cock and heading back to insert himself.

“rafey what are you doin’?” you mewl, shock and concern etched across your features. to be honest, the suggestion of fear in your tone made him throb.

“look, it’ll be fine, alright? i’ll— i’ll pull out, just need to feel that pussy. you gonna let me feel that pussy or no? hm?” he drawls, leaning over you on strong arms, the angle making it hard to disagree with him, infact — you felt your hand floating towards his shaft to guide him back inside, under his spell.

S IS FOR… stamina, ft. puppy!reader x jj ♡

what happens when you pair two of the most adhd, frantic beings in the obx in a bed together? it just keeps going, all night long. catch them when they’re amped up enough, and they’ll go like bunnies.

just when you think it’s over, the two of them catching their breath together in bed— they’ll turn to look at eachother with hazy smiles, before puppy rolls back on top of him.

“want more, jayj.” she’ll always beg, grinding her slick up and down his shaft as it twitches, blood rushing back to it.

“oh yeah? already? don’t need a snack? just… straight back in?” he teases, pretending to think about it until she pouts petulantly.

“dont need a snack want it right now!” she whines, frantically trying to stuff him back inside. he sits up, waving her hands away and cradling her.

“alright, alright no scooby snacks, got it. don’t worry, i’ll give y’what you want, mama.” he soothes, before flipping her on her back.

T IS FOR… toys, ft. toxicex!johnb ♡

let’s be real, whenever you and john b hook up — he wants to show you exactly what you’re missing, so when he feels the need to up his game, he’s definitely not above using toys to bend you to his will, guaranteeing a crazy orgasm you both know no one else can give you.

when you come grovelling at his door, he poses the vibrator he still keeps around as a punishment of some kind for leaving him. he’ll sit behind you on the bed with your legs spread open, holding the pink vibe to your clit as you fall apart.

“you know sweetheart i shouldn’t keep doing this… right?”

“mm—no—mmph john b, please!” you cry, willing to do anything for him to not turn the toy off just before you cum again.

“john b?” he repeats, voice dry and flat. “has it been that long?”

“daddy.” you mewl ashamed and feel him smile, satisfied with an exaggerated nod.

“ah. there it is. ‘guess i can make you feel good again. what’s one more time right?” his tone is sarcastic still as he rubs the vibe in circles, making your legs jerk obscenely, voice squealing involuntarily. “mm. but it’s not gonna be the last time, is it baby?”

U IS FOR… unfair, ft.spoiledexgf!reader x rafe ♡

we all know, when it comes to teasing — spoiledexgf!reader is straight up evil. she breaks less easily, never giving rafe what he wants unless it’s on her terms, using him for that delectable dick and money when she needs it. she knows he still belongs to her completely, and her attitude shows that.

she likes to call him at random times from another phone (because one of them always has the other one blocked on her phone.) just to check if she can still get what she wants. he’ll pick up the phone with “yeah, who’s this?”

“you know who.” she grins, kicking her feet and she hears him sigh, leaning back in his seat, probably pinching his nose bridge.

“what, okay — i’m working, what do you want?”

“i can’t just call to check up on my favourite businessman?” she coos, biting her glossed lip.

“no. you always want something. so what is it— or— or should i say how much? huh? how much you need?” he’s sarcastic, but she can literally him hear scuffling about for his wallet.

“just a humble 300. there are these pair of shoes and… well, i won’t bore you with the details. i’ll be sure to repay you.”

“yeah, you fuckin’ better, alright? not just a piggy bank. not doin’ that shit anymore okay i need something in return.” he demands, frustrated and dick already jumping at the thought of potentially getting to touch her again.

she taps her chin though he can’t see her, fluttering long lashes at the ceiling. “hmm. i’ll see what mood i’m in later. bye rafey.” just like that, she hangs up — waiting for the money to be transferred.

V IS FOR…volume, ft. pope ♡

if there was a contest for prettiest male moan— the trophy would go to pope. he’s not super loud, because you’re either doing it at his place or yours, and with your family situations it was rare you had the places to yourself.

however, you could listen to it forever — the sound of his soft groan in your ear as he’d roll his hips against yours, slipping in whispers of “oh my god.” and “fuck…” under his breath, which was absolutely music to your ears.

sometimes, when he’s super pent up — right before he cums he’ll whimper, eyes screwed shut as he focuses on getting to his peak of pleasure. that was pope at his most vulnerable, and you cherish every moment.

“fuckfuckfuck… you’re so beautiful…shit!”

W IS FOR… wildcard, ft. barry x bunny!reader ♡

you read that correctly — there is a universe out there where bunny and rafe break up, and barry is quick to get his hands on that. he lets her rant at his place, wiping her tears with his knuckle with a joint hanging from his mouth, he takes a huff before holding the roll to her glittery lips.

“he got you fucked up babygirl… know i wouldn’t do that shit right? i’on know, maybe you need a real man to get you right… s’all i’m sayin’.” he lets the smirk slide onto his face. her instinct is to deny him, but why? she’s single now right?

before she knows it she’s pierced on his cock with him guiding her hips, his mouth tasting of something unfamiliar mixed with weed.

“shit, keep that thing real tight don’t you mama? country club di’nt even know what to do with all that.”

X IS FOR… x-ray ♡

when i think of who is packing the most — two characters come to mind. pogue!rafe, who stands at 6ft5– he definitely has the dick to match his huge beefy stature, and dbf!johnb— just the idea of him having to train his friends daughter to take his thick cock is simply mouthwatering.

rafes stands at 9 and a half inches, and john b at 7.5, but way thicker.

Y IS FOR… yearning, ft. john b x reader x sarah ♡

this couple is potentially the biggest gooner duo of the princessverse. as previously discussed, the pair are constantly trying to integrate sex into your life by tricking your innocent mind into thinking it was your idea, so of course they are constantly yearning for you.

when you posted some scandalous bikini pics on instagram — you thought most people would give it a like, maybe a comment and then keep scrolling. what you don’t know, is that two of your closest friends are in bed together, touching themselves and eachother with your pictures pulled up — talking about all the yucky things they’re gonna do to you when they get their hands on you.

“can you picture it john b? her laying right here between us, letting me suck those perfect tits.” sarah sighs softly and john b’s jaw falls open with pleasure as she takes over from his hand gripping his cock, stroking up and down.

“holy shit. i’m gonna cum all over the screen.” he grits his teeth and she sucks on her plump bottom lip, clenching her tanned thighs together knowing it’ll be her turn soon.

“yeah… cum all over her.”

Z IS FOR… Zzz, ft. linecook!jj ♡

jj works long days, but he always ensures to reserve enough energy to lay it on you when he’s home from work. however, when he’s done — he’s done, so if you were planning on having any conversations with him, you have to make sure it’s before he gets his hands on you.

he rolls off you once he’s fucked you through two orgasms, finally getting his own, dropping face down with his pants pulled down.

you catch your breath before rolling over to kiss his bicep. “jayj, left some dinner for you in the microwave if you didn’t get to eat at work…” you blink, hazy eyed and still a bit disorientated. “jayjie?”

you’re met with a snore, low and deep — muffled by the pillow. you giggle, stroking his back affectionately and pressing a kiss to his shoulder. he’ll eat it for breakfast, you suppose.

[shivsdownstairsneighbour]

Chérie - End of the Line

Pairing: Stewy Hosseini x Fem. Reader

Description: A puzzling email and a new shoot gets you closer to Stewy once more. Maybe it's time to see how far things can go only for a night.

Rating: Teen/Mature

Word Count: 4k. Part one of the fic, though each can also be stand alones.

AN: Dearest reader, this author has to complete her yearly research report so, of course, it was compulsory to succumb to fic brainrot before typing the report. The dress comes from the Schiaparelli 2020 couture runway. While it lacks a specific name, if you search for the runway lookbook, you'll spot it from the embroidery details (all magnificent and superb). I wanted the closest thing to a SATC naked dress moment while keeping the going to a gala vibes.

Your phone ringing and vibrating right beside you at your desk did wonders in waking you up after a long night editing and postproduction of campaign materials for NYC fashion week. The glam is for the runway, the sleepless night is for the creatives behind the whole operation.

"Good morning?" You responded, not entirely sure if it was morning or afternoon.

"Greetings Miss, we're calling from Mr. Hosseini's office to confirm your presence this afternoon for the media materials." The ever so polite voice of Mrs. Margaret’s, Stewy's assistant, was surely a new way of waking up.

"Uh, yes, I've already confirmed a week ago and sent the tech brief of what I need in the room." You answered, standing up to get the coffee machine running before jumping to the shower.

"Of course, and you'll find it all according to your specifications. We're only missing your measurements, for which you haven't responded to the request sent via email three days ago."

"I beg your pardon, my measurements?" You froze in front of the cabinets, afraid to drop the mug out of shock.

"Yes, madame. Please send them via email at your earliest convenience."

"What does that have to do with me popping in for some pics?” Your voice tone conveyed beyond disbelief and your hand held even stronger to the mug.

"It's a personal request, I have no additional information about the matter. Please do send them and hope you have a pleasant day."

You were left beyond baffled. You actually thought it was a joke to have someone ask for your measurements and, since it came from an email address you didn't recognize, you figured it must be a prank. Why on earth would your measurements matter for a two-hour shoot? The request for measurements was baffling, making you feel the urge to text him to figure who came up with such a ridiculous request. However, truth to be told, beyond a text here and there or the occasional coincidences at a public event, Stewy and you wouldn't talk much, if ever. There was very little beyond a quick flirt and a drink. Plus, this was work, and when your professional name was called for, you liked to keep things strictly business.

Before you could do anything to contact him about that matter, the brand representative from last night's runway called to ask for the contact sheets and the final 6 pic run to use for press statements. You mindlessly typed your measurements though made a mental note to demand some answers from Stewy. The three coffees you had downed by them were starting to make their magic on you and, by the time you were done with your things, you looked a little haggard from the late nights, but with a bit of effort, you looked pulled together and ready to tackle the shoot.

Since they promised to stick to your tech brief as requested, you travelled light with only your camera bag and two lenses for what you envisioned a relatively easy shoot. Considering the hotel already had great lighting in the room, it was only a matter of setting the camera adequately to get the best out of the space. In hindsight, that could also use your own pent-up questions to raise some reactions from him that would make for a good picture. Mrs. Margaret was waiting for you at the hotel entrance and guided you immediately to the room. She didn't mention anything beyond the schedule and handed you the comms pack that would come out of them. The idea was to make it a sort of approachable, yet exclusive profile meant to be part of a joint social media-press strategy derived from the increased interest in his profile, both personal and business.

"Well someone looks as if they didn't have their beauty sleep. Or any sleep at all." He says as soon as he spots you walking into the room. He was wearing a bathrobe and sitting on the recliner by the bed.

"It's the post fashion week eye bags. Tres chic." You glared at him, not impressed by the lack of a greeting. What happened to normal courtesy like a good afternoon?

"Your working station must be somewhere over there. Make yourself at home." He pointed towards the mahogany desk that had the equipment placed and the already mounted studio flash beside it.

"Sure, because home is definitely overlooking the park." You responded, clearly caught by the wonderful views the room offered.

"Snarky. That's new." He turned towards the walk-in wardrobe, and you let a long sight before getting to the setup. It wouldn’t be long but the lack of sleep might start creeping in if you let it.

You set up the camera and start plugging in everything to the set up before starting the shoot. You have a shooting remote active for moments where you with the camera would be too intrusive or if you wanted to have a more upfront conversation without the camera meddling between him and you. They've just started with skincare and the press girl is pulling some questions while you shoot, and the social media guy is getting some backstage content. Curiosity is getting the best of you but you don't know when to ask about the whole measurements thing, especially when surrounded by so many people, some being fellow colleagues from adjacent fields, like Sylvie, the stylist.

By the time they're done with skincare and hair, the press people take a break before he's fully dressed, and you're left with the hairdresser, the make-up artist and the stylist. You might be buzzed by the rush of getting someone not only camera ready, as red carpet ready was a must, to feel the wear and tear from the week. However, you're also sleep deprived and terribly irrational, so you just blurt it out when the hairdresser asks you to take a seat at her station while he comes out of the wardrobe having had the final fitting of his trousers hems.

"Why does your team need my measurements?" Not only did everyone turn to him, but you could feel it, more than ever, his eyes burning through you.

"Everyone, out. Take five, get a coffee, smoke, whatever you need." Everyone left the room, no questions asked, leaving you two standing in the middle of it. "You're impossible to surprise, aren't you?"

"No, I like surprises, but asking through your assistant something of the sort isn't pleasant."

"Well, here's the surprise." He took your hand and guided you to the rack, where four black dust bags were hanging, each with a color-coded ribbon.

"The red one's my choice, I've seen you around and think it'll suit you. The blue is PR, would be lovely to see you on that one for the sake of this operation. The green's the stylist choice, and the pink is a wild card from her too. We could've gotten you more choices if you would've been punctual with your measurements." He said, with such naturality, you felt as the last person in the room to be on the deal.

"I think you've skipped over at least 10 steps previous to this conversation."

"You're my date and I can't have you walking around the red carpet or the gala looking like that." He said while pointing out to your smart trousers and shirt outfit. It was meant to be functional, not glam worthy.

"You know it would've been way easier to just ask upfront?"

"But where's the surprise in it?" He responded, with an almost mocking smirk on his face you wished to at least challenge a little.

"Your date? To the couturier's gala?" Both disbelief and a raised brow conveying the ridiculousness of his move.

"I know you're not booked or on assignment tonight."

"Great choice of words. This is making me feel like an expensive stand-in." His naturality on the subject was making you go from anger to uneasiness. A heads-up would’ve been a way better option.

"Booked or not, choose one, let them pamper you and have a night off."

"I still have to deliver these for your team."

"They're not due tomorrow, are they?" That bit was true, having until next Sunday magazines and society sections to publish them. Feeling accomplished, he turned to face you without dropping the hand he held.

You didn't realize, or rather chose to willingly ignore, the fact that he knew you held the remote in your hand. You were probably still within the camera's field of view, and in a swift move he took it from you and snapped a pic from the moment. The studio flash snapped you out of the moment and, just as quickly as everyone had been dismissed, the crew returned to the room. Stewy could've easily saved at least half an hour from prep time if he would've been clear from the start with his intentions. Nevertheless, you trusted everyone knew how to pull off a look while in a time constraint. You also had to admit it felt good to be receiving the VIP level of pampering that you've documented dozens of times but never had the pleasure of enjoying.

While all dresses were beyond beautiful, it was the pink wildcard that worked best, having it be a must wear if ever given the chance. The stylist helped you get into it, and you looked dazzling. It was day and night from how you left home, and you were really feeling it while wearing it. You didn't notice Stewy had been already fully prepared and looking from the sitting area how you were getting styled and fitted. He looked so smug having a glass of whiskey, as if taking you out fully glammed up was his accomplishment. In truth, you were never certain if you would've responded positively to an actual invitation for an event of the sort. Maybe the smug victory said more about you than him. But you wouldn't be opposed to a second outing if the night fared well.

Once you were ready, you asked for a couple of portraits of him sitting on the sofa and looking relaxed. He was pulling off each shot with enough success to not have to be any more demanding than necessary for good material. Maybe he'd gotten better at it due to increased attention. Or, rather more credibly, he was giving you content after asking you out in the weirdest way possible. Once the shots were done, it was time to leave and you started to feel the weight of the evening on your shoulders. It would be impossible to deny that the atmosphere was awkward in the elevator. Maybe you should've been the one to have a sip or two of that whiskey. What would you even talk about?

"If you ever wish to surprise me again, you do know you have my number." You said, almost as a whisper, wishing to fill up the silence between you two.

"Once again, where's the surprise in it? And I've seen how controlling you are. You would've said no to at least two racks of those dresses. And me." You could be wrong, but was he admitting to being scared of your rejection? That would be impossible.

"Now how would you know about that?"

"You moved the flower vase at least seven times since you started setting the camera." The nonchalance of the phrase revealed a little more than what he strictly said. He was apparently catching your every move in the room.

"That's not being controlling."

"Perfectionist then."

"I'm a professional, Mr. Hosseini." He looked at you with the same eyes as he did during the last picture from the first session. You knew he didn’t like that kind of solemnity in casual settings.

"I'm also a professional. And this will be good business for both of us." The elevator’s opening door not only wrapped the conversation, but also made it official that, whatever you had agreed to, was now set in stone.

You started to wonder if being snarky was a result of being sleep deprived, being nervous, or just in the presence of him after pulling the stunt. You have had good conversations in the very few opportunities you'd meet. Never deep, though always entertaining and fun. The car ride didn't ease the pressure, as being now in front of the camera became a reality. You understood perfectly what was going on from a technical perspective, and being in front of other colleagues was a massive change. You were increasingly too aware of your angles, of how to make the dress stand out, and how you'd be expected to stand by Stewy's side. He, on the other hand, was chill and chatting along with someone on the phone, and one of his hands found its way to the leg embroidery, carefully touching each bead. You would be lying if you'd deny it made you feel a mix of comfort and arousal.

The car stopped and you had to get out. You knew that the rule would be for him to help you out, and, as if coordinated from dozens of times of making it together, once your door opened, his hand was offered. The flashing lights dazed you up for a couple of seconds, making you trust his hand in guiding you towards the carpet and the entryway. It was his confident pressure on it that made you go from apprehension to trust and, as time passed, to enjoying the walk.

The first couple of pictures were admittedly awkward, with the two of you only holding hands and standing a little too rigid for anyone's taste and with enough space for the entire Holy Family to fit between both of you. You wanted to show the dress without straying too far from him, being that you had not much of a public profile to use as leverage to stand alone. By the middle of it, you decided to just lean into all the shenanigans of the moment, accepting his hand on the small of your back, crossing yours behind him too and fully leaning towards him on some shots. You'll figure out tomorrow how good they came out looking but, for now, it was about just letting go.

The gala was beautiful, beyond anything you'd experienced. Without the pressure of documenting it on assignment, you could appreciate all that came with it. The food was great, the acts just as beautiful, and you got to interact with people who you see seldom in person, as they're part of the designers’ in-house staff. Stewy never strayed too far from you and turned out to be an engaging presence no matter the group in front of him.

It became a little clearer than before why the unexpected request with cryptic message and request could've worked best with you. You would've easily said no to a situation that put you right on the center of attention. And, when the first meeting took place, it was you who suggested Rhomboid while being in your court and under your direction. So, it must've been adequate to put you in his court for the next move. However, there were many other ways to ask you out without sounding like a creep or an ass.

"I told you you'd like it. And I'm never going to complain of how much eye fucking I've gotten from you in that little number." He said to you as you two walked together to the bar for a refill.

"Even if it was a wild card?" You looked at him bewildered, clearly caught off guard by the last remark.

"Mostly because it was the wild card. It's like getting a preview of you." His free hand made its way to the embroidered ribs, holding you tight by his side.

"You're so flirty and reveling the moment, aren't you?" You blurted you mindlessly, probably as an effect of the couple of drinks you've enjoyed so far.

"And so are you." His hand departed your ribs and made its way to the small of your back before landing on your butt. Before you could rationalize it, he pulled his move. "There's a suite with my name and your camera waiting, and I'd hate to leave all that hanging any longer."

"We're not playing with my camera. That's work equipment."

"That remote button is very tempting, and you should see what I did there." He concluded with a smirk and a soft squeeze coming from the hand on your butt.

"You took some pics of me?" His smirk quickly changed to a laugh, probably due to your own reaction to whatever he had proposed.

"Only fair if you got mine in there."

He looked towards the hall's entrance and you two started to make your way out by finishing your drinks and bidding goodbyes to any acquaintances you encountered on your path. Since there would be no cameras outside as the gala was approaching the end, it felt natural to hold his hand, share some laughter, and head towards the car without feeling observed by any prying eyes. While the proposal was intriguing as is, it was more intriguing why he didn't pull any move during the car ride beyond touching and playing with the embroidered ribs and femurs.

It was in the room that everything started to become clear. Standing near the station, he asked you to turn on the setting you had been working with. You only needed the camera and the computer, so nothing else was turned on from the afternoon shoot. After some scrolling, the screen showed the shots of you getting the dress on and looking at the mirror. You were awed by the naturality with which you seemed to have navigated an unusual circumstance as that.

"I believe the photographer did a great job setting it up. Do you know her by any chance?" Standing side by side, his hand returned to its now usual spot on the back, and it was certainly more appealing to see him without the suit jacket.

"These are quite good."

"You didn't take it personally that I didn't choose yours?"

"I didn't even know this one was a possibility. You looked almost naked, walking around the gala as if you run the place." While your eyes were still focused on the screen, his eyes were looking intently at you, a sight that had been your companion for most of the evening.

"And you got unprecedented eye fucking opportunities." You turned to face him, locking sight and reaching your hand towards the one he wasn’t using to support himself on the table.

"A rightful compliment to my invitation." He stood straight and took the remote from beside the mouse.

"You know that that’s not a toy."

"Before we begin, let me tell you how much I want to ruin this lip color." He said, giving you a kiss while holding you tight to him with one hand and the remote with the other. It wasn’t a deep kiss but you sensed it'll go beyond that if given enough time.

"Would you stand here miss?" He said pretending to not have heard you and guiding you back to where you were getting ready before.

"Now, I want to see the whole of you. Gloves, please?" He whispered on your ear before moving to kiss your neck.

"Not a chance if I don't get to do some perusing before." You manage to say before he stood half a step back to look at you as if you’d defied him.

Without removing the gloves, you took your time untying the bowtie, and opening the first three buttons of the shirt. He held you steadfastly to him and, as he asked you to do more, you never changed the pace with which you were going, carefully unbuttoning each one knowing the tease you were being by going so slowly.

After his shirt was undone, he let go of you and turned you around to plant some kisses along your neck and shoulders before his hand reached your side and undid the zipper. It was slow, calculated, and definitely doing more than a thing or two to your brain. As the dress fell to the floor due to the weight of the embroidery, his free hand explored your back, and you turned around, stepping out of the dress to undo the belt buckle and the trousers. He was still dressed, and it was unfair of him for you to be standing on your underwear while he had trousers and an undershirt on.

The continued teasing touches left you two standing fully naked, craving each other desperately, and leaving the gloves as the final barrier between teasing and fucking. He slowly helped you take one glove off, never letting go from the remote, before helping you to the other. Once both of you were standing fully naked, his hand found his way once more to the small of your back and with strength and self-assuredness, started kissing you with more passion than ever. You were certainly no fool either, letting him go for it and voicing it to his ear how good he was doing as he kissed your breasts and tended to you.

From that point on, the night became a blur. He immediately left the remote after the first kiss and guided you to the bed where things got going. You could feel his fingers and lips exploring you just as you were getting acquainted with his body. You liked the feeling of his hairy chest on you and, as you asked for more, he certainly wasn't going to leave you hanging. Excited beyond measure, you kept it going until you couldn't do any longer without feeling him inside. You took him in and reveled in the sensation of feeling full, using your legs to hold him tightly in you. Neither of you was fully sure of how many orgasms came from the nightly adventure, but as you two lied side by side, you took the pleasure of feeling exhausted for more than one reason aside from sleep deprivation. After a quick shower, the week of poor sleep caught with you, and you dozed off almost immediately after getting into the covers. You could feel Stewy's hand running along your side, similar to how he touched the rib embroidery on the dress. You're not sure if he placed one last peck on your back or not because you were already gone.

The next morning, you woke up early to see, in private, whatever Stewy managed to capture from the night. One picture immediately caught your eye where he was pressing your back against him and laying a kiss on your neck. Both seem to have forgotten the camera was there, looking absolutely locked into the moment. Another picture, him looking mesmerized as you undo his belt, getting extra light touches from the way the glove embroidery reflected light as you moved. Certainly, these pictures and the others you were selecting would enter your private collection. A thing to be only enjoyed by you.

You felt a warm hand on your shoulder, and you turned to see him awake and only wearing his boxers. He crouched to your eye level and pointed to the screen saying, "I'll want these prints first thing" before a quick peck on the cheek.

"Should I trust you to keep them private?"

"No one should ever see you like that, except me." His smugness oozed off from him and the look he gave you emphasized the nature of his request and his word. As he said to some other person at the gala, his word was his bond, and he might see to it with the seriousness with which he pulled business deals.

In the meantime, he got a notepad from the desk drawer and wrote his address.

"I want them delivered here with a special request for you to be the courier."

"Should I wear the gloves too?" You mentioned keeping a playful tone to what seemed to be a confirmation of an upcoming date.

"As much as they're yours now, I want to see them again doing precisely that." He responded by pointing at the picture where you removed his belt.

A knock on the door pulled you two out of it and breakfast was served. Who knew if and when you'd do this gala date all over again. But for now, you had a package to deliver and some joint morning aftercare to ease you back to your routine. 

[duchess-of-lara]

What do you recommend doing in Paris? I’m going for a week in March and am working on my itinerary!

This is so embarrassing late, but I hope you can forgive me and that people may find it useful!

First of all, my biggest recommendation: research, research and research!! And not just the weather or the hotel, find everything that Paris has to offer and think carefully about what you will enjoy the most and how to do it. For example, if I had known that Notre Dame was so close to being reopened we would have gone next summer.

Now we can start with my biggest disappointment:

❌ THE LOUVRE!!! You hear it constantly but it really is humongous, AND very difficult to navigate! If you can splurge on it get a guide or do it with a tour. You might think that you want to explore it on your own, but trust me, you don't! I almost had a panic attack trying to find the exit. I genuinely did not enjoy it. I really would recommend getting a guide or making an extremely detailed plan on how you want to visit it and what you want to see. Trust me you just can't do it all. I did love seeing the Niké of Samothrace and for some reason I was extremely enchanted by Marie Antoinette's picnic set. I can't really think of anything else that I enjoyed besides the jewellery gallery. I have said this to my friends and family, if they are visiting Paris and they don't have much time or aren't super interested in seeing something there... They have my permission to skip it.

On with what I enjoyed (everything else!!):

💜 Saint Chapelle 😍😍😍 Absolute must, it's really a 30min max visit in my opinion and it could be cheaper but it's absolutely worth it!!! Gorgeous gorgeous gorgeous, don't skip it.

🔵 Boat ride on the Seine: it's ok, but not a must imo, it fills time but I feel like you're just going to see the same sights walking around all week (If you want to do something like that a dinner on a boat might be cooler).

💛 The lights on the Effiel Tower ✨✨✨ So worth it, so enchanting, just... Hearing that collective "OHH". We had to wait almost 40 minutes until 11PM because we had missed it and it was so so worth it. I'd recommend getting there a bit sooner and choose from where you want to see it. We were at the Champs the Mars, super close to the tower and I really liked it there.

🤍 Montmartre: very cute but I would explore it on my own, we were on a free walking tour and the guide was SO depressing, she kept going on and on about the miserable lifes of the artists of the Boheme (which I get it's a big part of Montmartre, but she seriously only talked about death for two hours and I don't feel like I saw any cute streets!!) Sacre Coeur is beautiful and free so don't miss it, the queue is long but quick.

🤎 OPERA GARNIER 😍😍😍 It's another thing that could be cheaper but SO WORTH IT, my mother was super impressed by it, we kept saying "oooohhh" all the time. There will be loads of people in your pictures though, so be patient to get a good one or go super early.

🟢 Galeries Lafayette: beautiful place to just take a break and look at the Chaumet jewellery you're not going to buy. The rooftop is nice and the only place with a free panoramic view of Paris but it's far from the best one (It's the only one we did because my mother has brutal vertigo so I can't recommend others sorry). Staff was rude though!!

💙 Latin Quartet: gorgeous, we did it with the best guide I've ever had so I found it very interesting, I actually thought the Shakespeare and Company was a tourist trap and I ended up almost crying after he told us the story about it (the original one and the current). The Luxembourg Gardens are GORGEOUS, and I'm not someone who really likes parks or gardens but there's something about it! While you're at the Latin Quarter PLEASE!!! Don't skip on Saint Suplice!! It looks very rough on the outside and it's not perfect on the inside either but it was such a delightful surprise! I still think about the virgin Mary on the altar, it looked like she was in a cloud, I had never seen anything like it. We didn't see Saint Germain des Prés because I didn't know it existed, but they are very close, so do both!! (Both are free by the way!!)

⚪ Le Arc the Triumph: I mean it's there? It's big? It's a beautiful end to le champs-élysées? Nothing more to add 😅 Oh, don't be an idiot like me looking for the way to cross, there's a very obvious subterranean access that I completely mistook for the metro. If my mother didn't have vertigo it's probably the place I would have liked to go up and take pictures, but I thought it was quite expensive.

🩶 Museum d'orsay: I thought it was very good, it's definitely a beautiful place and nicely organised museum, nothing like the Louvre, it was a breeze doing it..... But you have to like impressionism and post impressionism. I don't love it, though it was nice seeing lots of paintings you've seen in history classes, and there were some Pre-Raphaelites that I really like and didn't know were there. There's also lots of Rodin, and if you don't like him like me you won't feel guilty by skipping his museum. Basically, a nice two/two and a half long hours museum, not super expensive, but check to see if you would even enjoy it.

💖💖💖 VERSAILLES 💖💖💖 Oh boy did I LOVE IT!!!! Such a cliché but it really is so beautiful!!! We changed plans once we were in Paris from guided gardens and audio guide interiors to fully guided after the disaster with the Louvre and I'm so glad we did. I would have loved to stay a full day there but we didn't have time. The gardens really impressed me, more than the interiors, which surprised me a lot! I would have loved to see the petit Trianon as well but it was very easy to get there by public transport.

✅ Hotels: I'm extremely happy with my choice and I was very worried because you hear constantly that Paris hotel rooms are terrible but we stayed HERE and I thought it had a fantastic value for money.

☑️ Restaurants: honestly we had so little time that we skipped lunch one day and the rest was very much wherever. But I had researched two places and they ended up being quite good:

Le Mistral: Literally eating looking at the Seine for 17euros the menu???? And the food was very good????? I still can't believe this place existed. Also the staff was super friendly. A normal nice place that had good food and amazing location.

Chez Pippo: Not french but a really good Italian place not super expensive super close to the Eiffel Tower, it seemed like a nice restaurant that People who live in Paris actually go to.

Hopefully this helped. But if anyone has any questions please ask me or feel free to add anything I might have missed ❤️❤️❤️

Also!!! We only went for basically two and a half days and I would really recommend at least 5 if you're only going to it once in your life (living in Spain I know that I can go back any long weekend if I want to, but keep that in mind if it's the journey of a lifetime).

[writing-in-lesbian]

A Heiress in Love Pt. 7

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff / Female Reader

Tags: angst, fluff,

Translations: Hainofi = princess // Strik sis [Strisis] = little sister // Ai hod yu in = I love you // Ste yuj = Stay strong //

Chapter synopsis: War is coming and some things need to be sped up for the alliances to work. Right in the middle of everything, someone will warn or new appointed commander about her betrothed.

A/N: This story keeps sending me into new research topics! I hope I’m doing them justice. Also since there aren’t a lot of trigedeslang transistors, everything in italics and underlined would be trigedeslang. Again, I’m partying ways from some canon events in the 100 in order for this to work. Work is not beta’d so all mistakes are mine.

Chapter 7 - A Heda on the Rise

The darkness seems to be more welcoming this time yet, the red fog that you saw before remains there, like a guardian.

Fainted noises try to make their way into your mind, but the dizziness you feel is more than enough to shut anything that tries to reach you. Your hand feels warm and is the kind that makes you feel sleepy and cozy. Feeling a squeeze into your hand, the darkness starts to dissipate slowly. 

You get back into reality when you hear far away your name being called, turning to the right, where you think the voice is coming. Opening your eyes, you see your mom looking at you with worried eyes. Her lips mouth something to you but your brain is a little bit foggy.

“Are you okay?” Her echoed words reach your ears. “You seem a little uneasy”

“I’m fine” yet her mother instincts kick in and she gets next to you. Wanda just observing through her peripheral vision, not letting your hand go. Clarke is observing your face, she touches your forehead but feels only your cold skin. 

The voices around you are a mix of angriness and confusion, Octavia and Natasha are having their staring contest.

“Octavia, there’s no need to duel Duchess Natasha” You hear your mother talk but your mind is trying to catch up, everything seems a little out of sync. Perhaps the lack of sleep, food, and water is taking finally a toll on you. 

“Heda” whatever simple hand gesture Lexa does is enough to keep Octavia in silence. 

“Mother, a flame keeper has been in grounders line for all time” you hear Madi say but can’t seem to fully understand it. 

“Commander if I may,” Tony says, and to your surprise your mother acknowledges him with a simple nod. 

“I know all I’m allowed to know about Flame keepers and I think with our nanotechnology we can improve the efficiency and security of it. That’s why, Duchess Romanoff would be dear Y/N guardian and you my dear…sorry don’t know your name”

He pauses, you guess, waiting for Octavia’s response, which never came.

“Well, you my angry brunette will be as well,” he says and you can guess the gasp you hear is Madi’s. You feel a squeeze in your hand and Wanda’s tense right next to you.

“It will be fine, you don’t have to be afraid,” you think as loud and clear as you can to calm Wanda, it worked before so, she should be able to hear you right away. The tension in your hand lessened and let you know it did. 

“I’m not following,” Pietro says out of nowhere, you didn’t even pay attention when he arrived.  

Your mother guides King Tony and your mom to the center of the table, pausing a little at seeing your ceremonial things still in place. She searches your gaze but you avoid it before meeting her eyes. You see her guards follow her and stand a few paces behind her. 

“Mother if I may, I thought only the commander was worthy of carrying the flame, no offense to our guests here”

Madi approaches your mother, asking silently to clear everything, but is stopped by your mom. Clarke grabs her hand, making her stay there, out of your reach.

“Y/N, Wanda” Lexa’s voice is neutral but you detect a hint of warmth in her tone, her raised hand indicates for both of you to approach her. 

You feel Wanda’s tug and in that moment you realize how stiff you were, if the crack of your knee indicates it. You walk slowly, never letting Wanda’s hand go, an action that is noticed by everyone. Clarke has a small smile adorning her face, while Natasha smirks. Octavia’s face goes neutral, even thou you know deep down she’s content with how things are seeming to go with Lady Maximoff and Pietro gives you his usual thumbs up. You search for Madi’s eyes, looking for the comfort a big sister could provide but you see only confusion. 

“As we unite our people through my daughter and Lady Maximoff, we should never forget our origins and focus more on our similitudes rather than our differences” Lexa speaks softly but firmly, a tone you have heard many times when she was tucking you into bed explaining to her best effort, the hundred questions you bombarded her with at night.

That is enough to make you form a hard-to-see but small smile.

“We need to understand us and help us. The flame, Madi, is one of the things that make us grounders unique but is, as we know, dangerous for the receiver. To protect us, King Tony will improve the flame that Y/N will be getting, allowing me to continue to keep it as well until I transcend and pass it fully to her”

“If I may,” Tony asks “When Ultron got out of our alliance and started doing all crazy things, it reminded me that, what we all here seek, is the chance to live in peace, and when that is threatened and our loved ones are in danger, we protect them”

“Attack them and you attack me” you hear yourself saying.

“Precisely!” An over-excited Tony says, “It took me two hits close home to understand that I, couldn’t do it alone” he says while walking towards you. 

Before he can reach you, Wanda takes a tiny step in front of you that causes Tony to stop before getting too close to you. His face is intrigued but doesn’t change his excitement. However, he changes slightly his course of action and goes to the table instead.

“I have been fascinated with grounders' culture since I met your mothers' ages ago Princess Y/N, so when the time called for it, I reached out to them and well, here we are”

That’s the most simplest way of explaining years of traditions in less than 10 seconds but he says this while getting something from under his coat. It’s a small red box with lines in yellow. He then proceeds to uncover his arm and punches some letters or that’s what you think he’s doing, in what looks like a bracelet, that is more than that as a hologram appears in thin air.

“That still doesn’t explain why Duchess Romanoff has to be the flame keeper,” Madi says, still not trusting any of this. 

“I didn’t ask for it either nor do I understand it all but I trust Stark on it” Duchess Romanoff’s voice is so near you that you have to take all control to not shiver, instead squeezing Wanda’s hand, noticing the small smirk she has. For your own sake, you decide not to question it further. “Plus, I care for Wanda and if she becomes part of the grounder's culture, I want to understand it as well”

“Madi, daughter. Patience in one thing”

“Patience in all things” you hear your sister finish the sentence with a sour mode. A sentence that Lexa tried so hard to teach you when you were little and got impatient. You also remember the many lessons you had with her on the proper way of breathing and how to use it to control your anxiety or fears. 

“We know the importance of the flame keeper, that’s why part of the agreement included sharing the information about it with them as well we allowed for someone to be part of it. A decision Clarke agreed on it”

At one point you suspected your mom was a big part of the decision on your marriage, the fact that she agreed on the Flame makes you wonder if it had anything to do with their past. You knew your mom carried it for a brief time and how it affected her. Perhaps all of this comes in the best interest.

“Out of all the pool presented, your mom and I decided Duchess Romanoff was the best candidate,” So your mothers chose who was going to bear it? “Not only is she an expert in hand-to-hand combat, but also has a high set of skills that will help keep Y/N and Lady Wanda safe if the case arises”.

Your mom lets Madi's hand and stands next to Lexa and, you figure this has a deeper commitment than you thought of.

“Along with Octavia” Clarke says “She more than anyone would know the importance of protecting their Heda” Just knowing that Octavia will take the role as well, gives you some type of comfort you didn’t know you needed. 

Your mother explains while motioning for Octavia and Natasha to come. King Tony proceeds then to touch the hologram and you see the chip projected there and the image is more vivid and clear of what you have seen on your mother’s books and Becca’s library.  There are a lot of small letters and numbers scribbled all over it, your best guess it’s that it contains the improvements your mother told you about. Still, how does it work, would it hurt now? You know before, the Flame would allow you to keep your thoughts separated, and now? What is all of this doesn’t work and the Flame chooses another person? Many questions are rounding your mind and it’s getting harder to keep track of all of them. Wanda’s thumb starts doing small circles in your hand, making you get out of your mind. 

“I might not be able to read your mind but boy your thoughts are loud” and hearing her whisper so close to you, makes your skin and body tremble. A small chuckle leaves your mouth, getting just the attention of Madi, who looks at you with a curious expression. 

“The adaptations I made, would allow Queen Lexa and Princes Y/N to be able to carry the flame, without having any dangers to their health, minimal pain for our princess here, and preserving all the qualities the first commander did”.

Lexa opens the box containing the Flame you’ll be getting soon, the small piece capable of uniting or separating nations, containing power and a lot of responsibilities, making you well aware that, if the old laws were still in place, a lot of people would die to get their hands on. Yet, the infinite symbol inscribed on it faintly glows.

“Y/N… Y/N…the moment has come. Welcome daughter”

“Our nanotechnology has been a resource that many are after, and I’m more than happy to lend it to the aid of our new conjoint kingdoms and the well of their and our heiresses”

“Y/N… Y/N…the moment has come. Welcome Heinoffi”

You barely hear him, being more interested in the data and images showing virtually, the blue hem making it look fascinating to you, so much so that you barely register the small step you take towards it until you’re stopped by Wanda’s hand still in yours. Your mother notes this and takes a look at you, her curiosity getting the best out of her.

“Y/N… Y/N…the moment has come. Welcome Heiress Woods-Griffin”

“Y/N… Y/N…the moment has come. Welcome daughter”

“Y/N… Y/N…the moment has come. Welcome Heinoffi”

King Tony keeps talking but is just white noise compared to what you are hearing. You have heard the stories, the legends, you know that the voices of past commanders, some kind of memory of them will talk with you… but it should be until you get the flame right? So, whose voices are these and why are you hearing them?

Natasha opens then the box, containing a similar but smaller piece of your flame, much to Octavia’s displeasure, noticeable on her face but is replaced soon by curiosity as she sees Wanda taking a step towards Natasha.

“The moment has come. The heiresses are here. The moment has come. The heiresses are here. The moment has come. The heiresses are here. The moment has come. The heiresses are here. The moment has come. The heiresses are here. The moment has come. The heiresses are here. The moment has come. The heiresses are here. The moment has come. The heiresses are here. The moment has come. The heiresses are here. The moment has come. The heiresses are here.”

You feel a sudden need to reach for the box your mother has, taking Wanda with you, who shows nothing but a willingness to walk, eager to get the box in Natasha’s hand. You hear nothing but the voices until…. 

CLANK, CLANK.

A metal noise is heard, making you stop in your tracks, your hand close to the box your mother had, which has been closed. Wanda’s hand is on the box Natasha has, with Clarke’s hand on top of it. You didn’t notice your mom moved, less see the other box being opened. 

“Curios indeed” you heard King Tony say. 

Wait, weren’t those the same words Aiden told you?

“Fascinating, isn’t daughter? My predecessors are eager for you to join us” and you look at your mother, her eyes are unguarded just for you and you see the love and pride in them, but you also see something else, you can’t pinpoint what it is yet. 

“Lady Maximoff” she takes her sight towards Wanda and notices how, despite taking different steps, your hands remained linked. The small smile there is just perceptible for you and Madi.

“What is in front of you, is a replica of the Flame Y/N would be getting that you would be having in custody, hence why we decided to have two flame keepers, one, to guard Y/N and the other, to come in place if the occasion arises, you need to evacuate with the flame”

Wanda returns to your side, dropping your hand to play with her ring fingers, a piece of hair falls from her hairstyle, and you observe her while trying to comprehend everything that has been said, your mind racing a mile per second, tying things here and there. So if Tony requested the marriage to protect his lands and people, your mothers agreeing to it AND sharing the flame knowledge, plus including another flame keeper and a replica? What’s the real meaning of all of this?

“Would I always be hearing the voices?” Comes the quiet question of Wanda.

“You heard them?” Pietro, who up until this point was watching the whole thing unfold, approaches his sister. You can’t help but step a little in front of him.

“I…think?” Her eternal frown comes into place and you can’t help but notice that’s different from the one prior, this one is less pronounced, making her eyes smaller, although the tilted head remains the same. 

“If you heard them Lady Maximoff, as precedent as this is, I believe it has to do more with your abilities, still, it doesn’t minimize the fact of it, especially for someone who’s not natblida” your mother says, not even a hint of surprise on her voice. Turning, you see your mom looking at Wanda with confidence, a spark of something you haven’t seen reflect it on someone outside your clan for a long time.

The fact that both of them knew about Wanda’s abilities makes you wonder how much they know, you recently learned them, but well, maybe King Tony shared that information. If your mothers agreed to 

Madi opts now to turn and walk away, your instinct is going after her but your feet refuse to cooperate. By this time, the first signs of sunrise are showing, and the little place you have been all night starts to appear clearer. You can see more now the features of the ceremonial table and the articles left there, the thin smoke of the incense long gone, but the ashes remaining there, scattered on the table. Your mom has noticed the sun rising as well, whispering something to Lexa, and then proceeds to leave, taking Pietro with her with promises of breakfast and coffee. The last item offered, you think, shouldn’t be something Pietro should get his hands on, an over-caffeinated hyperactive child is the less you need now, yet, the thought brings a smile to your face. 

”Now, there’s a journey ahead of us that we should prepare for. We leave in 15 minutes, horses are ready and I believe, King Tony wants to speak to you Y/N” Your mother takes the bowl containing your blood and needles and signals for the rest of the party to leave all, except for Octavia who maintains her position not far from you, but giving you enough privacy.

Wanda is hesitant to let your hand go. And after a few seconds of thinking she turns to leave, Natasha at her side in an instant.

“I’ll be out soon,” you say after her, taking her nodding as a sign that she heard you, saying it to try and reaffirm whatever worries or curiosity she might have or maybe it was to calm your worries. You haven’t met King Tony personally nor this close before, but here you are. 

“Curios is a killer thing, don’t you think my darling?” He says while playing with the matches left on the place where the rest of your ceremonial things are.

“Not your darling, please don’t refer to me like that again” There’s an element you don’t like about someone calling you darling, other than really close people.

“Feisty, I see. No wonder why our dear witchy feels attracted to you”

“With all due respect King Tony, what is it that you wanted to talk? We need to leave soon and we have a few hours ahead of traveling. I would like to get ready”

But the fact of his words is making something inside you, clearly is nice to hear a confirmation that Wanda feels attracted but his tone and the way he said it, doesn’t suit you well.

“Yes about that… I just wanted to make sure you’re prepared for what might come?”

King Tony might be a lot of things, but discrete has never been his best strong suit. You need to inquire more about what has been said and agreed on this marriage thing. 

“I am” and your voice carries so much strength and pride, just like your mother used to do and still does when her reasons are questioned. You have spent a lot of time studying, training and preparing for your ascension as Heda, the fact that a war might break soon makes you nervous, but you trust your preparation and your heritage.

“And if chaos breaks?”

The sun is almost up, mother nature indicating that your party must leave soon for the agenda to continue and not interrupt another thing. Although your ascension ceremony will be tomorrow night, you’re certain more things are preparing behind the curtains, didn’t Octavia mention something about Raven sending a package for your ceremony? To be honest, if Raven knew about it, then… when or how did she get the news about it? And how did she get them that fast?

A flock of birds past over your head, but your eyes remain on the King, gauging his reaction to your lack of response, trying to read him. He’s quite the character, making it a little bit difficult to find a truthful interpretation.

He takes your silence as something based on the chuckle he makes and proceeds to explain. 

“Our dear witchy over there and future Mrs. Woods-Griffin can be something” his bracelet on the hand signaling where Wanda just left shines under the sun, making you realize you need to end this soon.

“You know about Wanda’s magic then” It’s not a question. 

“If I know? Girl, I will be afraid if her chaos gets out of control-”

“So your better option was to ship her to a foreign kingdom so it gets out of your hand”

“Princess” and the tone is so petty you almost hate it. “I rather have her as an ally than be on the receiving end of her anger”

“I shouldn’t be entertaining you with these questions, but If chaos, as you and Aiden like to name her magic, decides to come out to play, I’ll be ready”

Your mother never taught you to look down first on a staring match, combine that with the stubbornness you inherited from your mom and you have a killer stare. Which makes King Tony smile like a madman. 

“Good! That’s exactly why I choose you over Vision to be her wife, now chop chop Princess we have a journey ahead of us”

He leaves your side faster than you can comprehend what he just said. Of course, you have heard of Count Vision and his last attempt to have Wanda as a wife, the thought never sitting well with you, for all purposes, word has it that Count Vision is just as cold and heartless as a machine, but his assets and technology would have been something to pique the interest of Tony, yet he chose you over him, why? You have so many questions to ask your mother but are afraid she won’t answer them if she feels is not the time. Deciding not to dwell more on the issue you kneel to retrieve the bag where you carried your ceremonial things. 

A chirp is heard somewhere in the trees, hurrying your steps, knowing Echo is just a moment away to come and retrieve whatever things you leave, you finally, step out of the ceremonial place and take a few seconds to enjoy the cold breeze. 

This exact time, just a few minutes after sunrise, is the time you have come to love the most. The temperature is perfect, not warm yet not too cold, the wind is chill enough to be able to enjoy it without a heavy jacket. Your mother used to find you out of bed at this time many times, standing by your side, always extending her hand without saying a word, and every time you took it. Both enjoyed the silence and the company. She would later carry you back to your chambers, tickling your sides until you asked her to stop between waves of laughter. She did it until you were 6 years old, claiming you were too big for her to continue carrying you and wasn’t proper for a princess. 

“Heinofi” Octavia's voice surprises you, having completely forgotten she was just mere steps away. Did she hear your talk with King Tony?

“Don’t you dare question what you have to offer, we all know anyone would be honored to be your wife”

“I’m not-“

“I know you Y/N, whatever King Tony said about Vision, ain’t worthy worrying your mind” 

For many people, Octavia is just a distant, uninterested, savage brunette, but you know that’s just a facade, deep down she’s more intelligent and observant than a lot of people think, yet her nickname of Bloodreina holds up to her reputation. 

She grabs your chin and lifts it so you can see her in the eyes, and what you see makes you question not for the first time, what have you done to have such a cool aunt care that deeply for you. Madi once joked about you being the daughter she wished she had.

“Thanks Aunt”

“Now, Echo had your horse packed and your mother awaits. I saw Wanda pass with Natasha so we should get going”

She proceeds to lead the way but your hand stops her before she can take more than two steps ahead of you.

“Aunt Tavia” 

Octavia turns to look at you questioningly.

“Do you know the reasons my mothers agreed on all of this and if they were aware of Wanda’s abilities?”

You hesitate for a moment, your question taking her out of guard. 

“You better than anyone should know that not all the important decisions your mothers take are shared with their counsels. That being said I know they were aware of what Wanda can make, and no Y/N I don’t know it. As for the reasons for the marriage to take place, I guess they balanced both options of suitors and decided on the best one, political and personal”

Wait, both?

“Both?” You ask but her gentle push for you to walk makes you trip, regaining your composure you keep walking but still waiting for her answer. 

“I shouldn’t have said that. Forget I said it” She well knows you won’t let it go that easy, but for your benefit, since you had your wish granted, you keep quiet. Making a sign of erasing your mind with your hand, you smile and walk ahead of her.

It doesn’t take you too long to reach the parting point, you see ten to twelve horses at the ready, your mother guards already in place. Counting them and making mental notes of which horse is for whom, you notice five are still waiting for their rider but yours is not there. 

“Daughter, are you ready?” Your mother’s voice welcomes you, just as she is mounting her black Percheron, her elegance is something you have always admired. You take it as a good sign that Philly is there, since you know that’s not her battle horse, since it has been a while since Raven implemented some upgrades and experiments on that department, no longer using life animals for it, but rather something mechanic, nor exactly a robot but similar. 

“I am mother” Echo approaches you, with your own Lipizzan horse, his grey coat shining under the weather and his mane braided elegantly.

Approaching them you thank Echo and take Dasher’s reins. Your other hand caresses his forehead carefully avoiding his muzzle. You approach your forehead to his.

“Hey there Dash, ready for a journey?” His only response is his short snort. You have had it since you were eight, a present from Queen Regina, arguing if you were to be a good goddaughter, you need it to learn to ride properly. The relationship you had with Dasher has only been growing ever since, with both of you bonding almost immediately. 

Those are the things that make you question how many of your relationships were just mere political movements rather than affection. Deciding to leave that thought for another time, you caress Dash one more time before a guard helps you mount him. 

Once you are on him, you whisper small affective, and reassuring words into his ear, caressing his beautiful mane. You know Dasher can feel nervous sometimes when new people surround him, so you do your best to stay calm and transmit that to him.  

“Lexa” you hear your mom calling her, she’s still on the ground. “Safe travels. I’ll see you soon” She takes Lexa’s hand for a few seconds and leaves with her guards towards the carriages zone, part of King Tony’s party is waiting over there, as far as you can see he’s not among them. You guess she might be doing something else for the wedding preparation with your guests. 

“My dear Lexa, what beautiful creatures you have here” Well, that responded to your question about why he was not over there. 

You’re guessing that if he was the one working on the new flame, he would be the one indicating how to handle it. 

“We’re proud of our horses. Intelligent and magnificent creatures they are” 

King Tony walks closer to the other horses, you supposed he would wait for someone to helpl him but to your surprise, he mounts it quite quickly.

“I’m a bit rusty, it’s been a while since I did it”

“You used to ride?” Your question is more of curiosity than anything else.

“Growing up, yes”

“Impressive horse Commander, and more impressive he hasn’t dropped Stark”

You turn to see Duchess Romanoff and Wanda slowly approaching, you haven’t thought why they weren’t there nor near the carriages when you joined. 

“Very funny, let’s see how yours handles your presence” Is he indulging in the comment?

Without more thinking you descend Dasher and walk towards Wanda, offering a small smile which she reciprocates albeit reluctantly, which makes you frown a little. 

“Those are beautiful horses Princess Woods-Griffin” so you’re back to formalities. 

“Not as beautiful as you” You can hear and feel Octavia and your mother cringing from where they stand, already in her horses, but the small blush on Wanda’s cheeks makes it worthy. 

“Echo and Finley will help you mountain yours, we need to be leaving soon” and the commanding voice your mother has is enough for King Tony to regain his composure.

“I have never ridden a horse before” It’s Wanda’s timid voice and now you understand her behavior and posture.

She’s afraid. 

Her hands are playing with her rings, trying hard not to bite her nails, and her sight is fixed on Dasher, you can’t help but feel pride. He’s mesmerizing and gorgeous to look at.

“Then you must ride with me” and not soon after your words leave your mouth you know a reprimand will come your way. 

For safety reasons, in every political travel, there must be only one rider per horse, in case there’s an ambush, your guards can help you escape in different routes and not compromise any of you. You know that this journey is way more than just a political thing.

“Daughter, I’m afraid that would have to be for another occasion” There’s not a drop of hardness or angriness in your mother tone, but a small warning. 

And for the first time in forever, you do something you never thought you’d do. 

You guide her to Dasher. 

The horse sensing what are you going to ask, just moves with his head, signifying he’ll allow Wanda to ride him.

“Dasher would be yours for the journey then”   Lexa, Octavia, and even Echo are well aware of what that means. 

Dasher is to be ridden only by you, the horse not allowing anyone else to mount him, not even her first owner Queen Regina has been able to do it. Dasher never allows the saddle to be put on him if it’s not going to be for you, you guess that he can sense it and has a better instinct than most humans. 

Not even Princess Danvers, your previous girlfriend did it. Dasher liked her but never allowed it to be ridden by her. When you two went out riding, you had to take Quinn, your other Lipizzan horse for it, she allowed other people with you. 

Once, Queen Emma said that the connection you had with your horses was similar and way freaky than the one Regina had with Rosinante, her horse. You answered that she didn’t understand the connection between horses and humans since her horse wasn’t too happy with her. Queen Regina snorted, making you feel good. Until this time, is hard for you to call them godmothers.

“Is it yours? He’s magnificent” Wanda says and you can swear Dash neighs in response to that. Cheeky little bastard but you feel happy he’s allowing Wanda so far. 

“Yes, his name is Dasher, he’s my main one”

Like reading your mind Dasher nudges his muzzle on Wanda’s shoulder and you encourage her to pet him.

Your mother observes this and smiles, happy to see you content despite the threat of war over your heads.

“Here, let me”

In an instant, Finley, the stable young man is at Dasher's side, putting his two hands together, so Wanda can step into them, this action needs it to push the rider up. You take Wanda’s waist and she jumps a little, surprised by the action. 

“I’ll help you get onto him. Dasher is a gentleman but if you have never ridden, it can be tricky to get onto him”

Wanda looks at you, her ever-inquisitive look in place. She puts her hands on your shoulders, nodding her head, indicating she’s ready. You laugh and turn her, her back now towards you.

“Put your right foot on Finley’s hands and impulse your weight. Once you feel the push, your left leg should do a small arch over Dasher’s back. Ready? On three. One. Two. Three”

Wanda graciously mounts Dasher, giving you a memory to cherish for ages. Once she’s on Dasher you can see her nervousness be replaced with excitement, her smile getting bigger by the second. 

Echo, who had taken over Dasher’s reins, gives them to you with a small nod. 

“Here, this will help you guide him and to hold on to him. You won’t need to do much, since Quinn and I will go right next to you and Dash is excellent following us”

You had been involved a lot in their training, making sure both knew how to follow each other without a rider or an injured one. Sometimes your paranoia pays off.

“Okay” and is the smile and the brightness in her eyes that does it for you. 

You go to Quinn, feeling Wanda’s eyes on your back, observing your interaction with Quinn, you salute her the same way you did it with Dasher.  You mount her without help, years with them have made you agile. Echo passes your bags and sword. Thanking her you take a moment to whisper something into Quinn's ears, getting a snort in response. 

“It seems we’re all ready. Indra” your mother motions for her most loyal warrior and leader. Indra gives this vibe of hating everyone but is nothing compared to Anya. 

“Send a messenger to the clans. Let them know my daughter's Ascension ceremony will take place tomorrow. They should know we’re ready and we must stay united in our coalition”

Indra nods and takes off on her horse, you thought she would be going with you, but then again, a lot of things have been changing by the second. The guards open the gigantic gates, and you see the roads that lead to Polis, the royal guards leading the way, followed by your mother, King Tony, Duchess Romanoff, then you and Wanda, Octavia, and the rest of the royal guards behind

You hear some guards whisper safe travels. You’re somehow excited for what lies ahead. After all, you have traveled this road many times, knowing the safety of its course. Turning you see Wanda calmingly admiring the landscape, one hand in Dasher’s rein, the other, caressing him slowly. She’s a natural.

The sun is now fully up, giving the forest a whimsical view, everything seems calm, so you relax and let yourself enjoy the ride, a few moments of peace before the madness begins.

Tag List: @spongebobtentacles @wandamaximoff727 @cristin-rjd @aawake-atnight @msromanoffswife @juno-verse @wandastan-2 @wannabe-fic-reader @cd-4848

[firstofficerwiggles]

Wiggles!!

Congratulations on your milestone! You deserve every single one of your followers, love 🧡

I don’t have a request cause I don’t wanna bother 🥺 but I just wanted to say how incredibly proud I am of you and your writing. You are so talented and so sweet, I’m really happy I got to meet you 🙏🏼

Thank you so so much! This is so very sweet, I'm very happy to know you too. So I know you weren’t requesting anything, but as one of my dearest friends on here and as someone who has supported my writing from the start, I wanted to write something for you too. Buckle up though because this one is going to make you cry…

My darling,

I have no way of knowing whether or not you will receive this message, but I know that it is necessary for me to try. I am certain that you think I am deceased, because it seemed highly improbable that anyone could survive a fall from that height. However, it appeared that fortune was on my side as I did not fall to the bottom of the chasm, but rather to a large ledge. I sustained only a broken arm and minor bruising. Nonetheless, my luck only went so far as I was found by a squad of stormtroopers. They have brought me to what I believe is a secret, experimental medical facility. My injuries have all healed now, and physically I am back in peak condition. Unfortunately, I cannot say the same for my mind. The researcher here is experimenting with a new machine that is designed to manipulate the mind and create false memories. While at first, I was spared the typical effects that I saw in my fellow captured troopers, I can tell that the supposed ‘treatments’ are beginning to have an effect on me. I have memories and emotions that are not congruent with what I know to be true. I confess that at times I do not know if what I remember about an event is accurate. There is one constant that I cling to, my memories of you. I know that the memories of our love and our time together are real. When I picture your beautiful face and remember the touch of your soft lips against mine, I know that I have known joy. Even now as I write to you, it is the memory of your voice telling me that you believe in me, that you care for me, and that you will always love me that is keeping me from giving in completely to this mental manipulation. I am trying to escape and considering all avenues to succeed in fleeing from this hell. Every night as I sit in my cold cell I tell myself that I will find my way back to you. I will never stop trying to get to you. You are my guiding force and the key to my sanity. I hope that this message reaches you and I hope you will know that I am alive and that I still love you. I will always love you. 

With all my heart,

Tech

[hoverboards-and-dragons]

Its Heaven time, archangels my beloved

Through the forests, through the mists, We still carry Grandpa's gifts!

Winners of heaven will cultivate varying relationships to the reigning Heir of the ring they live in. The fifth ring looks particularly up to Gabriel, an inventive and optimistic group that shares their chosen grandfather's value of giving and helping, and of glory and honour.

O Prince of perfection, Grant me my dream, Give me inspiration, Grant me the means To Reach my ideal!

The rings have dramatically different cultures, catering to different pursuits; So much so that some souls stay devoted to their preferred heir even when living elsewhere. You'll meet the self you never knew in life in Six where passion and beauty, expression and sensation comes before all. Guided by humanity's primordial muse Jophiel to hone your craft to perfection. Have you ever tried acid or estrogen? would you like to?

Cycle's ever broken, mighty ones will fall, I will serve your purpose, if it fits my goal!

Some relations are more strained; the Higher Archangels are disconnected figures, at the best of times especially from man. Although this doesn't bother the academics, researchers and scholars of the Fourth ring. The winner crowd thins out greatly, independent and ambitious types with little interest in their mentor unless they have need for the Sage. Uriel's attention is usually only drawn through grand achievement. Both are far more invested in the Great labyrinth of Archives they share.

Oh Angel of the Springs, you cursed source of life, May our sickness our torment and our rage now bring us might!

The most... unique of the Heir's followers for the deep divide in values. You will struggle to find winners of the Third ring that do not despise Raphael. Few in number, they seek the Doctor out despite the inhospitable to human conditions, in the hopes of protecting the still living, usually like they did in their own life.

Raphael's apathetic attitude towards death is a deep let down. 'Plague-maker' they spit in response to those who call the Doctor 'Life-bringer.' But they can't afford to reject the opportunity of the Third ring.

Raphael is fonder of them, happy to play the Challenge to those who throw themselves so fervently into the cycle, the struggle to decides who gets to live. They can handle the insults its good motivation.

[blindbeta]

Hi! Sorry for the long ask, I just want to be thorough when providing context.

I'm writing a fanfic for Ace Attorney, which has two blind characters, both of whom became blind through traumatic incidents in-canon.

The first's cause of blindness is tied into the plot, so I can't change that, but I am working on making his experience with blindness/low vision more specific and clear (and I have a few threads I'm looking into on that point already!). This isn't about him.

My question is about the second, Thalassa. Her situation is a lot more malleable. She was a magician, with her father as the head of her troup, until an act went wrong and a bullet hit her head. Her father sent her away to a far-off hospital and told others that the accident killed rather than injured her. We don't see her until years later, but the result is blindness and total loss of previous episodic memory, seemingly with no other side effects. She becomes a famous singer in her new life, but her blindness is kept a secret from all her fans and is treated as a twist in the attorney’s case by the narrative. Her child co-star helps her as a guide, or at least is implied to, and pretends to be the blind one instead as a cover (??? I do not understand this set-up). Her amnesia is a huge plot point, because her old life was connected to multiple main characters, and she no longer knows them. Near the end of the game, she tells the player character that he's inspired her to go through with an eye operation that can restore her sight (and possibly her memory, for some reason??), which she'd previously been hesitant to do because she was afraid to “face her past”.

So, yeah, not great. I think the art not making her eyes clouded when she has CVI might be the only good thing about it.

Anyway, I'm considering changing it so that she was born blind, and that her brain injury has other, unrelated side effects along with more general amnesia, and completely cutting the whole “oh, I was afraid to let myself see, but you have inspired me, sighted person, to take the risks so I can Fix Myself” thing.

I think it would be good to have a character who's born blind, and for a character whose brain injury did more than episodic amnesia. And ofc if I do go that route, I'll research what realistic symptoms are, and what side effects I should include.

For the twist reveal of her blindness, though… Maybe just make her blindness public knowledge? I don't really get why it was a secret in the first place, tbh…

So, do these sound like good solutions? Is there something I've missed that you think I should consider before committing to them?

Also, do you think her being a celebrity might affect her ability to connect with the blind community where she lives? I don't want her to be alone, the way canon seems to imply, but I'm also not sure how to handle this aspect of her character.

Thanks for all you do, and I hope you have a lovely day!

I accidentally posted this instead of saving to drafts. Please kindly wait until I can come back to this.

[m1d-45]

My Dearest, Venti

How are you, my love? Have you enjoyed the Windblume Festival this year?

I heard about a tradition of giving Windblumes to those who you love and adore, and I wanted to participate in it. Attached to this letter is a small notebook—about the size of your palm—with musical notes on the cover! You can write your poems or songs, and honestly seeing it made me think of you, so I wanted you to have it.

For the second gift, I created a unique bouquet with flowers from my own garden. I’m a bit embarrassed to admit that I spent quite a while choosing the flowers for this bouquet (not to mention the time I spent researching for the meanings for each flower) but I don’t regret it at all. I want the best for you and I hope you can appreciate their beauty—and the trouble I went through making it.

The prophecy surrounding this Windblume has made me reflect on the importance of having someone like you in my life. You're always there to keep those around you safe and secure, and I can't thank you enough.

It amazes me how kind and thoughtful you are, my dear. I knew that leading the traveler into your nation, into your steady hands, was the best decision.

You are my guiding wind: the one that has never led me astray. I look forward to being reunited with you soon, my love.

- 🍄

[Attached to the letter a small lined notebook and an assortment of flowers: lavender, hydrangea, heliotrope, and edelweiss standing out.]

venti sat in the hands of his statue, gently playing his lyre. the song was slow, appropriate for the late hour.

he watched the skies, seeing the many stars streak across it, playing solely by muscle memory. his feet swayed, the soft wind rustling his cape but never pushing with force. the night was calm.

when one of the stars grows larger, seeming to fall from the sky, his hands falter for only a moment. part of him hopes- prays, even, that it’s for him, but he reserves his hopes. it could be going to somebody else in mondstat, or even overshoot the nation entirely and land in fontaine or natlan.

the star grows closer, and closer still. he tries not to get his hopes up, he does, but he still ends up stowing his lyre in his inventory and rising to his feet, daring to reach for the stars.

his hand brushes against the star, the warmth of it seeping into his palm and soothing any soreness from his playing. the shell begins to crumble where he touched it, but he’s quick to catch the notebook and paper inside, bringing both close to his chest as the remains of the star drift in the wind.

the notebook is small, music notes across the cover—he wonders if they form a song—and with a bundle of flowers tied to the front. he admittedly can’t identify most of them… but he recognizes lavender, the smell from the flowers seeping into the air as he carefully unfolds and reads your letter.

the wind around him picks up in an attempt to wick some of the heat from his face. these were your windblumes? if he was honest, he was surprised you gave him one at all… it was nearing the end of the festival, and the traveller had finished sorting out the prophecy a while ago.

but you…

you thought of him. you, even in a world so far from his own, took the time to grow and pick flowers, to write out a letter, to see a notebook in a store and be reminded of him. you took care in your choice, making sure each flower represented what you wanted exactly… he made a mental note to stop by flora’s shop and see if she could tell him what you trusted your flowers to say.

his eyes lingered on select words in your letter, wondering if you had put as much thought into it as your bouquet. you had to, right? or did you just put pen to paper, letting the words come as you wrote.

it pained him that he didn’t know more about you, sometimes, but it was clear you knew him well. no, more than that; you trusted him, even though he was no longer the ruling archon of mondstat. you trusted him to keep your vessels safe within his borders, trusted his judgement in a world so far from the one you were in now.

venti blushed at the last word of your letter, the idea that you could love him even a fraction the amount that he loved you one he would never forget.

the wind picked up again, and venti leaned into it. if he closed his eyes, if he directed the current just so… for a brief moment, he could almost imagine that it was you.

[wisteria-in-winter]

Too Busy Being Yours 💙Master List💙

They had not gotten along, at least at first.

Bal had acquaintances along the Sword Coast but none were wizards. A few fellow sorcerers but most definitely no wizards. By the nine hells did she find them arrogant and, consequently, difficult to get along with.

In her opinion, Gale embodied all the worst traits of wizardkind. The man was pompous, hubristic, and by the gods he never shut up.

---

Bal hid away from the world for three years in Baldur's Gate to deal with her grief, unfortunately, that didn't save her from being snatched up by the nautiloid. Begrudgingly saddled with the title of leader, she tentatively begins to make friends again, opening her heart to her fellow tadpals, and carving out a special place for Mystra's former Chosen.

But the weight of the Sword Coast's fate rests heavily on her shoulders, and love is not always easy. When further loss and expectations take their toll, she flees from the one she cherishes most, unable to handle that he will pass long before she does.

Time and soul-searching will heal Bal's wounds, but only if she can face her fears and doubts.

---

Behold, the master list for my BG3 Gale X Fem!Tav/OC fic!

Chapter 1: How many secrets can you keep?

Chapter 2: Some things just aren't that simple.

Chapter 3: And your tears have been worthwhile, they got you through.

Chapter 4: Down, down, down by the river.

Chapter 5: Lost in the moment, years too late.

Chapter 6: Exposing cold steel, fire, beauty and rage.

Chapter 7: Leave all your shame behind the door.

Chapter 8: If I told you how I really feel would you let me in? Would you tell me all your secrets? Tell me where you've been?

Chapter 9: Shrinking walls of freedom's fantasies.

Chapter 10: Fear for naught for I'm here and I'm made of your love.

Chapter 11: The night will hold us close, and the stars will guide us home. (Smut)

Chapter 12: I think it's funny, but it seems to heal me. (More smut)

Chapter 13: Did you ever think ascension could turn you into something frightening?

Chapter 14: Now that we've come this far I bet their eyes are watching us move.

Chapter 15: For you, for you, I would bring down the heavens on this earth.

Chapter 16: Save tonight, and fight the break of dawn. (Smut. Again)

Chapter 17: Made me feel so stupid when I burned your trust tonight.

Chapter 18: Oh, how I love you.

Chapter 19: Will you love me for who I am, not who I was?

Chapter 20: They call her Mississippi, but she don't flow to me.

Chapter 21: I've just got to get a message to you.

Chapter 22: So good at being in trouble, so bad at being in love.

Chapter 23: Give peace a chance. Let the fear you have fall away.

Chapter 24: I'm on my way to being so complete.

Chapter 25: Tonight, you're all mine. (Smut)

Chapter 26: My love for you insatiable. (Rehashed smut, but from Gale's pov)

Chapter 27: But if it's forever, it's even better.

Epilogue: Dreams are nothing on my reality high.

This little project of mine is still ongoing, but I should be wrapping it up at Chapter 20. NEVER MIND, THAT AIN'T HAPPENING. I hope you enjoy reading about Bal and Gale's love story because I've enjoyed writing it.💙💙💙 Holy shit, it's finished! :D Behold the one-shot section! It's self-explanatory.

Here Be Rewards To Gain: Karlach and Bal make a bet, and Gale learns something new.

Eyes On Me, My Love: For Kinktober 2024 (Gale/Bal/Simulacrum threesome smut)

Research and Rutting: A Distressing, Yet Delightful, Draconic Dilemma: Late Kinktober 2024 entry. Childfree breeding kink with Bal/Gale.

[moonunwell]

Wrathion had spent the entire day yearning for this moment. Lately, their nights together were the only thing that could take his mind away from the horrors he'd been forced to research for the war against N’zoth. As he climbed up the wall to the king’s quarters, though, he could tell this visit wouldn’t be the reprieve he was hoping for.

Anduin waited for him on the balcony, rather than within his room. Looking especially pale under the moons’ light, the king sat on a chair, his forehead sweaty and his teeth clenched in pain as he applied a bag of ice to his swollen right knee. It took him a few moments to acknowledge his visitor.

“Wrathion. You’re later than usual.” He sounded nervous, as if he’d been caught doing something inappropriate.

“My apologies, I had an extremely busy day. And I’m guessing yours wasn’t too easy either.” Wrathion’s eyes went to Anduin’s shaky leg. There it was again – that vague sensation in his own knee, like borrowed pain. He tripped on his next words: “Are… are you –”

“It’s just pain. It’s not for you to worry about.”

An awkward silence followed. Wrathion fiddled with his left earring, desperately searching for a topic of discussion.

“I’ve never seen you use this balcony, come to think of it,” was all he could come up with.

Anduin cocked his head. “Funny story, one time Onyxia locked me here. She said I had to be put in penitence, though I don’t remember what for. She must’ve cast some sort of spell, too, because no one could hear me cry for help. Eventually I stopped trying. I was trapped here for hours.”

Wrathion blinked. “That’s not funny at all.”

“I know,” he sighed. “Let’s just go inside before someone spots you.”

He helped Anduin get up from the chair and through the balcony’s ornate doors. The human’s knee made an alarming creaking sound every time he moved it, and almost buckled multiple times on the short walk to the edge of the bed.

“I take it you’re having a flare-up,” Wrathion stated the obvious as he and Anduin sat down. “I apologize for the intrusion, but why not call upon your divine powers to make this easier on you?”

“It won’t work. Not when it’s the Light in my bones causing the pain.” He flinched as he changed positions, exhaling sharply through his teeth. “It’s started doing this whenever I do something bad. And…” He looked away. “And I just did something terrible.”

“Oh. I see.”

This was the part where he thought of some comforting words to say, or prepared for a prolonged debate on the ethics of the king’s latest executive decision. But, wait –

“Wait, no, that doesn’t make any sense.” He turned sharply to face Anduin. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but – *you* told me that *no one* can communicate with the Light itself. You said, and I quote, ‘it is a force so primordial it takes years of study and abnegation to even begin to comprehend it’. Not even Prophet Velen knows that much about it! So how come *you* can suddenly sense its judgment so directly? Have you become so powerful you can now… scrute the inscrutable?”

“That’s not a real word.”

“Answer my question.”

Anduin sighed and rubbed his face. “The Light is… a lot more complex than what fifteen year old me could tell you. Sometimes it manifests more directly in our world for reasons we don’t understand yet. It’s a subject of constant debate within the church. But… I don’t think it's too far-fetched. There are some ecclesiastical records of cases similar to mine. Moribunds who were saved by the Light and then claimed they could hear its voice through their healed body parts.”

Wrathion quirked an eyebrow. “What would that be called? A miracle? Is that what you believe yourself to be?”

“No – *I’m* not a miracle. But the way I was healed after the Bell incident was. So, maybe…” He was starting to get embarrassed. He laid face up on the bed. “I don’t know. It sounds so ridiculous now that I say it out loud. But… I just… I *know* what this feeling is. I can tell it’s the divine guiding me. What else could this pain mean?”

Wrathion hesitated before replying: “Not everything comes with a meaning. Maybe you’re just in pain.”

But he knew his words fell on deaf ears.

[nicofics]

hey so uhm I saw you wanted to write sumthing so I decided to tell u this request :3 maybe like.. a lucifer x male, god mc reader that is a son of The goddess Nyx? Nyx is the goddess of night and has ALOT of children. And by alot I mean 1000+. She's also feared by Zeus! Also something I copied off of google -> “Children of Nyx can telekinetically move and transform their shadow constructs. The more constructs moved and the bigger they are, the more energy is drained. Children of Nyx have the ability to create intangible stars, which will light an area for a short time.„ just so you don't have to research for an huge amount of time! So yeah, male god MC/reader that's very wise, the oldest sibling, strict and more or less overly calm, protective and emotionless, lives in the celestial realm. Have fun :3 also make sure to eat and drink well, don't rush yourself and make sure to take all the time you need.

𝙣𝙤𝙗𝙤𝙙𝙮 𝙠𝙣𝙤𝙬𝙨 𝙬𝙝𝙖𝙩 𝙞 𝙨𝙚𝙚

𝘭𝘶𝘤𝘪𝘧𝘦𝘳 𝘹 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳

summary: you meet a certain demon during the exchange program

notes: i hope you like this!! i tried to get the characteristics in but idk how well i did 😭 im working on some hcs so they should be up by friday!!

you had just come from the celestial realm, though you were certainly not happy about leaving all your siblings behind, you knew to follow your mothers orders; plus, you could take care of yourself, maybe thats why she chose you? anyways. you were standing in the middle of the hall, 8 large demons standing in front of you, you weren’t scared, quite the opposite actually, there were two angels beside you. you had seen them about but you didn’t know much about them. after the biggest demon, lord diavolo, gave you a rundown on how everything was going to work, lucifer escorted you to the house of lamentation.

once you arrived at the large house, lucifer opened the door to you, he hadn’t seemed to stop watching your every movement like a hawk, perhaps he was wary of you? your mother is scary to some. looking around the entrance hall to the house of lamentation you couldn’t help but gawk at just how large it is, you knew how siblings were, and how destructive they could be, but still, this house was like as if it came straight out of a fairy tale

“this is where you’ll be sleeping, mc” lucifer opened a door by the stairs, a big enough room with a tree in the middle, strange, but you didn’t question it, you’ve seen weirder. “thanks” you respond, not showing much emotion while you talk, lucifer was almost taken aback, not expecting you to be so calm about the whole ordeal, luke had been upset, why not you?

“i’ll come get you at dinner, please, get comfortable until then” you gave lucifer a small nod, he then exited the room. while he was gone, you looked around the room, finding clothes that fitted you, a surprisingly comfortable bed and a bookshelf, great, now you can read in your free time

while you lay on your bed, you heard a knock on the door, you quietly walk up, twist the door knob and open it, only to reveal lucifer, again. he seemed to have a strange fascination with you, he wondered why. “dinner will be ready soon, please, let me take you down” “yes, okay” you responded, following lucifer down the grand staircase and into the spectacular dining hall. all the other six brothers were already there, eating their dinner.

lucifer guided you to a seat, handing you a plate and sitting down beside you, he knew of your status, yet still he found himself drawn to you, as if you were pulling him along on a leash. “how are you enjoying it here so far, mc?” he asked, curious of your response, hoping its been good. you gave a small nod, “it’s been fine” you took a bite of the food, it’s nothing like you’ve ever tasted before, but it was good.

[meetmyothersouls]

Roll on this weekend for your many beautiful Jonah fics!

I hope you enjoy the start of my new series! Here’s my first Halloween special of the season!

The Through Hike

Jonah Hauer-King x first person reader

Warnings: Appalachian mountains, creature, blood, suspense

Chapter 1

In this current moment, I’m not sure what is bothering me more. The fact that this is not going to be an indie film like I was being led to believe or that the casting director handed out the male lead role. I’ve trained my entire life for a role like this. I earned this role in more ways than just my acting ability. I grew up in the Appalachian Mountains of North Carolina. I hiked the trails as an infant strapped to my moms back. I led my Girl Scout troop leader out of the Forrest with just a compass and the moon as my guide. I was born for this role.

Jonah Hauer-King was not. Clearly they handed him the role after his newly recent success from the live action Little Mermaid movie. I did my research immediately upon finding out he was to be acting along side of me. He grew up rich, probably never hiked a mountain in his life, let alone camped in the wilderness.

I roll my eyes as I enter the forest clearing for our first day of shooting. I see Jonah, it’s hard not too, he is incredibly tall. Even from far away I can tell he’ll tower over me which will make our kissing scenes even more awkward than I originally thought.

He looks over at me and I look away but not before I catch his eager wave and smile. He begins to walk toward me and I prepare myself. My thought is to pretend like I’ve never heard of him. Put him in his place a little bit. I won’t be pushed over but some A-list actor who things he’s doing is all a favor because he’s acting in an indie film.

“Y/n!” Jonah calls, kicking up leaves with each footstep towards me. I hate that he knows my name without me having to tell him. “Hi!”

I’ve got to look up to make eye contact with him. Jesus he’s massive. A little leaner than he was in The Little Mermaid, but massive nonetheless. “Hi,” I say back.

Jonah smiles again, a prominent dimple changing his face from attractive to downright adorable, but I’ll never make it known. He holds out his hand for a handshake. “I’m a huge fan of your work, I’m looking forward to working with you.”

“Oh are you?” I ask, I take his hand and give him a limp handshake. Suck up.

“Definitely, Eye for an Eye was incredible!”

This throws me off guard. I find it hard to believe any one knows about my films, let alone an actor of his status. Indie films usually appeal to a specific audience, one that I didn’t think he’d be a part of. “Well, thanks,” I say, unable to keep the facade of my hard exterior. “I’ve seen a few of yours as well.”

“Alright everyone! Let’s get to work,” Shaun, the director says. He’s got a few other behind the scenes people next to him. They begin marking areas with flags, so they don’t get lost on their way back out of the woods. Amateurs. “We’ve got a few scene on the docket for today, but nothing that’ll be too involved. Jonah, Y/n, we’ll be doing mostly nature shots for today, if you want to head back to the hotel for the day feel free to.”

Jonah looks over at me but says, “I’m good, I’d like to explore the terrain a bit.”

Shaun looks over at me and I wave him off. He knows where I’d rather be. I start walking, the feel of the ground beneath my new hiking shoes fills me with joy until I hear Jonah’s footsteps behind me. “So you enjoy the outdoors too?”

“Yeah,” I say, “I grew up here.”

“Oh yeah? Tell me about it.”

I eye him, arching an eyebrow. “Well, my parents are from Asheville, but moved out deeper into the mountain before I was born. My mom had me in the cabin her and my dad built and raised me on the mountain. You know how they say ‘the mountains are calling’?” I look over at Jonah, he’s smiling at me, listening intently. “Well, they literally know my name-the mountains I mean-they’re a part of me.” We’re silent for a moment, the only thing to be heard is the crunching of our footsteps on the ground. “What about you?”

Jonah huffs out a laugh, “ah well, I wouldn’t say I’ve got nature in my blood but-”

He stops talking once I hold my hand up to his face. “Did you hear that?”

Jonah looks around furrowing his brow as if the action would help him hear better. “What?” He whispers.

“I heard a scream.”

“Maybe an animal?” Jonah offers.

“Not an animal. I know every animal sound there is out here, that was human.”

Just as the words leave my mouth the scream sound again, only louder, more distraught and blood curdling.

“Okay I hear it now.”

Several more pierce the air and I turn back.

“I’m not sure how to get back!” Jonah calls out running after me.

“Just follow me and be quiet. No more yelling.”

Apparently we walked a lot farther than we thought, I haven’t seen one orange flag yet. We weave through trees and I make mental notes of everything that I can use as a natural marker. If I pass it again I know where going in circles. I whip past branches and duck skillfully under low hanging limbs. Jonah’s a few steps behind it he’s keeping up. Finally, I see an orange flag in the distance. I slow significantly, and hold my hand back so Jonah doesn’t bump into me. It’s eerily quiet. No birds chirping or squirrels dating from tree to tree. We walk gingerly across piled leaves. Jonah is next to me and I hold my fingers to my lips. We make our way to a massive tree, big enough to conceal both of our bodies. I press against it and peek around the bark.

“What do you see?” Jonah whispers.

I slow my breathing in an attempt to be as quiet as possible. There’s camera equipment scattered across the forest floor. There’s a shoe here and a phone lying in the mud right next to my shoe. Then I see a body. My hand goes to my mouth so my gasp isn’t audible. I’m quite sure that’s Keenan the boom operator. His chest is ripped open and organs are spilling out of his open abdomen. Something pulls his body out of view. There’s a wet crunching sound further to my left. I lean over a bit further but wish I hadn’t. Crouched down about fifteen feet away is what I can only describe as a monster. It’s skin is rotted and gray in some places. It’s wearing clothing but it’s extremely weathered and torn. It snarls as it digs into Shaun’s body. Blood squirts against the dirt, creating a bloody mud mixture.

“What?” Jonah barely whispers.

I turn to face him. “We have to go,” I mouth.

“Why? What did you see?”

“Shhh!”

“What is it?” He mouths back.

“It’s-”

As soon as I hear the iPhone ringing in the mud next to me my heart drops. I hear the creature drop Shaun’s entrails. Then I hear it’s footsteps. I peek back around the tree and we lock eyes. I gasp and dart back behind the tree. I’m not able to speak, I grab Jonah’s shirt collar and I’m only able to get one word out before taking off.

“Run.”

Tags: @danielabetancourth @luna2034 @wandamaximoffbae @twinkledinkleg-blog @justagirlwholovedtoread @nonsensical-nonsence @paramorelvrr @thedonswife13 @miniemonie2001 1 @jonahhauer-kingg @crazyyynyyyy @notagreekgal28

[thunderclaw100]

Eva let out a sigh as she walked through the hallway of the massive. This way was long and empty. It doesn’t seem like any of the other irkens or working staffs been down here in a while. The vortian had just got done helping out the technicians in the room she passed by. Now Eva is on her way to her room on the east wing of the ship. A long way back it seems.

“Stupid drones. With all the people they have on this ship. Why come to me, out of all others?!” She fussed. Ever since she’s been brought here and tending to the tallest therapy schedule.

Eva had less and less time for herself. Though what could she even do here anyway? The irkens here don’t like her presence on the ship. Some even bad mouth about her while she passes by. Few irkens had attacked her whenever she’s alone. Tallest Purple despise her because he believes she’s taking all of tallest Red’s time and attention. Which is ironic considering it was Purple who recommended his co-leader to find a vortian and make them his therapist, so that he can work out his angry outbursts lately.

“Ok now which way was it again?” She asked herself. Looking from her left to her right. Both sides seems identical and this ship is so big and crowded with many obstacles, that it made Eva disoriented. She stayed where she is and took a moment to think and grab her bearings. The vortian had no clue that someone was creeping up from behind her.

A tall figure was looming right above her short structure. It was only it got close enough for Eva to see it’s shadow, that she quickly turned her head to look over her shoulder. As fast as a voot runner, Eva found herself grabbed and pinned against the wall.

“What the heck?!” She shouted.

She was about to make a scream but soon got a look at her attacker’s face. Eva growled in annoyance. A smirk appears on the other. His arms keeping her caged between him and the wall behind her.

“Tallest Red! You nearly scared me out of my skin!”

“I’m glad I did. Otherwise you wouldn’t know where you were heading to just now, Dr. Eva.” He said.

Doctor, he says. It’s just a temporary title for her ever since he picked her out of the rest of her vortian friends at the vort research station. Eva is a scientist but has take on the task of being tallest Red’s personal therapist. She is under contract that tells her to remain as such for a full month. After that, she can return to her post. It’s only been a week and a half since then, and the irken leader has been getting a little too comfortable with her around. Unlike everyone else on this ship. They want her to stay away from the tallest. In fear Eva may influence him.

“You’re a little far away from your usual station, Eva.”

“So are you. Why are you stalking me?” She asked. Keeping her tone down and not making it sound disrespectful to him. Tallest Red hovered back a bit.

“I wasn’t stalking you. Something’s been tripping the alarms, so I’ve came to investigate it.” He told her.

“Why not have one of your soldiers do that?”

“Because it would be pointless to let them. Besides, I was already strolling down this path. Then I saw you just standing there I couldn’t resist scaring you.”

Red laughed. The vortian placed her hands on his chest and push him away from her. For someone so tall. Red is acting like a little smeet.

“Well I hope you had your fun. Now if you’ll excuse me.” Eva walked right passed him and ended up back at that open hallway again.

The tallest leaned back against the wall with his arms folded over his chest. He smirked as he watched how confused the female is. Clearly she’s never been on an irken ship- let alone the massive. Eva stiffened.

“I can hear you judging me right now. Stop it.”

“Then let me guide you to your room quarters.”

Eva felt her face heat up with embarrassment. What would the others think if they see her walking beside their tallest? It might be the only way back though. She decided to take him up on that. Tallest Red smiles and lift a finger from his cross arms to point in the direction of where to go before taking the lead. Eva trailed behind him in a trotting pace.

“I hope I don’t get any backlash over this. I have enough eyes on me already.” She thought.

[dewracle]

Unofficial Sleep Token Headcanon/Lore

A guide to AruEternity's Vessels

Hello lovies, I am taking inspo from one of my friends here. Everyone has their own versions of the vessels and their own ocs, I just would like to share mine with yall! So everything you read here is ALL HEADCANONS!! Please keep that in mind during this. I will be using names that I hope and pray aren’t the actual vessels' names, (I will cry if it is and most likely change them.) But again this is just how I see my boys; none of this is solid or finished yet. Little lore overview, none of the vessels are human anymore due to their past and their meeting with Sleep. Sleep in this version is a rouge god who typically follows the idea of having angels under him/to help him. He can change people and remake them similarly to how he is doing with the vessels. If Sleep were to go without a vessel or a connection to a vessel for a long period of time he becomes weak and slowly dies. It is the idea that for a god to live, they need followers. All the vessels change in their own ways and are molded by Sleep to fit what he wants out of them. He can reset the timeline if he deems the vessels to be defective/not up to standard. The timeline so far has been reset roughly 100 times, the only ones with active memory of this is Sleep and his angels.

TW: Sexual themes, SA, Drug-use, Major character death, OD, Depression, Minor character death, suicidal ideation, if I've missed any please let me know!

Vessel

Name - Elliot Burns

Age - 28

Height - 6’2

Personality -

Spreactic and almost loving aggressive. His devotion to Sleep distracts him often so he is normally seen as quiet and or loving to the others. While he doesn’t like being alone he is okay with it sometimes… Other times it brings up the anxious part of himself. Super affectionate and loving but in a “please don’t notice” way. Becomes slightly violent when things are no longer in his control/he cannot understand them/

Connection to Sleep -

Sleep’s main vessel, the one who he always turns to. Elliot was the first real worshipper of Sleep gaining him a strong connection to the deity. Their relationship is a toxic “I cannot live without you” type. 

Transformation -

3 total sets of eyes are similarly placed where his mask is, all glowing with soft white light. The bottom half of his face is skinned leaving his teeth exposed. As for his teeth, his K9s go down past his bottom lip and are extremely sharp. Emits a gentle black smoke from his mouth and body. Giant split down the middle of his chest, breastbone to belly button, this is where a closed human eye sits and never opens.

Mini backstory - Very short 

Elliot was an obsessive lover, going out of his way to make anything come true for his girlfriend of the time. They had been together for a while before she started to pull away slowly. This caused an extreme fight with them and a car crash that injured his lover. Shortly after they ended up breaking up due to her blaming him for everything and finally coming clean she didn’t love him for him. Elliot in a fit of anger began to search for ways to get her back and to make her love him. Unfortunately, nothing worked, not even the magic research he did. That was until one-night Sleep came to him in a dream and guided him to someone who could guide him to him.

II

Name - Silas Palmer 

Age - 24

Height - 5’6

Personality 

The calmest out of all the vessels. Seems always to be sitting alone trying to draw and or get high. He doesn’t personally care for the drama but is the one everyone comes to when there is something going wrong. Very “wise” and helps guide others. Silas does have a Playboy vibe and will act on it on rare occasions. 

Connection to Sleep -

Sleep’s second most trusted vessel. However, their relationship is strained due to the forcefulness of Silas’ connecting/bonding with Sleep. Silas has forgiven Sleep after years of struggling with the aftermath, seeing the pack as the only ones he needs due to their willingness to accept his gender identity. 

Transformation -

Skinned mouth starting from just behind his teeth. Stretch marks from the stress of the mouth going closer into/near his eyes. A sewed shut-eye in the middle of his forehead that softly glows and moves behind the lid. Smaller cuts/scars scattering his body where eyes would grow if needed. Many of the scars are from fights with the other vessels. 

Mini backstory -

Growing up in the incorrect body had caused him many issues with friends and family. Many did not understand or chose to understand how Silas was feeling. It was a constant struggle throughout high school and college. Eventually, he was able to save up enough money by working himself exhausted to get top surgery. While being the happiest moment in his life so far, he was no longer in contact with his old friends or family. Silas was disowned for finally achieving his dream. Slowly he turned to alcohol to ease the pain of being alone. Eventually, he was able to meet someone who he thought would love him for him. Unfortunately, the relationship turned abusive after Silas was unable to quit drinking. His girlfriend pushed him away after hitting him many times over again.

III

Name - (Finn)egan Ridge

Age - 23

Height - 6’4

Personality -

The fun-loving chaos-causing type of person. He loves to play jokes and is always hyper no matter what. He does have moments when he is calm but most of the time he isn’t. Loves to do things he thinks others will laugh at.

Connection to Sleep -

Sleep’s third vessel. Sleep sees him as an entertaining person who gains the attention of many people. While this can be fun at times, he does also punish him often when he is “annoying.” Believes III needs to be safe but also wants to hurt him by influencing the others. 

Transformation -

Asides from the deep ashy black that covers most of his chest and back, he is etched with the language of Sleep. His body being covered by some stories told by Sleep. The language mostly covers his arms and legs, while he does also have thick lettering wrapping around his wrist. At the base of his neck/collarbone and his lower back, there is a small area where a possible eye could form.

Mini backstory -

Was the miracle baby that his family had always wanted. Ended up doing everything for them and tried his best. After going into college he learned it wasn’t for him so his grades started to slip and he fell into using heavy drugs. Slowly he turned into the college drug dealer which got him kicked out. His family had still sent him money because he never told them. Eventually after becoming very popular in his dealings, he was able to gain a lot of money. With this money, he bought and used drugs alongside buying prostitutes for himself. After hiring the wrong person, they forced him to attempt to OD, he was turned into a prostitute himself after “saving his life” Here he met someone he deemed ‘‘Sugar” and enjoyed the buyer's company. Sadly the pimp he worked for did not like this and killed Finn in front of Sugar.

IV 

Name - Felix Payne 

Age - 27

Height - 6’0

Personality -

He is seen as aggressive and quiet. Felix is mostly angry at himself rather than others, making him quiet and always anxious. He fears that one day he’ll up and leave like his father did again. Felix is anxiously attached to everyone but refuses to let them in. Though he can be loving at times he holds those close for the fear of losing the moment. 

Connection to Sleep -

Sleep’s 4th vessel. He sees him similarly as Elliot, with a strong connection even though he is not the strongest vessel. Sleep pities the boy so he picks him to use whenever he is feeling especially angry. Which in turn has turned Felix into an even more angry person. 

Transformation -

Has gold and red bands inked into his body that circles his wrist, fingers, ankles, thighs, and neck. They are technically not tattoos just an add-on to the already deep ashy black that they are all changing to. While he doesn’t have eyes on his body, he does have a moon shape (the moon logo) under his chin/jaw area. As a punishment or if Sleep is feeling it, the golden bands on his neck slowly turn into a thorn crown that rests on his eyes. It rarely happens since he tries not to upset Sleep. 

Mini backstory -

Had a mostly good life besides having to deal with a dad who left and came back 24/7. He was forced into playing the perfect family, this later turned into his own form of trauma and learning. Once he was older he got a good-paying job that had long hours and split an apartment with a college student. Didn’t mind paying for everything. He ends up lashing out at all of his friends and is diagnosed with severe anxiety, depression, and some anger issues, all similar to his father. Eventually, one day he decides to leave after he can no longer handle the stress of himself, this is where he meets Vessel after wandering for hours.

V 

Name - Kieran Wiggs

Age - 26

Height - 5’11

Personality -

A goofy unhinged boy. He is extremely loving in all the wrong ways. Kieran is passionate but loses motivation extremely quickly. He relies on the others to help him during his rough moments. If he were to become too angry he relapses into a rage episode and attempts to harm or kill the other vessels. Unhinged but loveable in moments. 

Connection to Sleep -

Sleep’s 5th vessel, sees him as just another one of the people he can use. Kieran doesn’t really mind him at all and sometimes is extremely thankful for him. He does wish he could get his memories back but Sleep refuses and says he will not have a defective vessel. 

Transformation -

Has the band’s moon-type symbol on his forehead, the darkening to ashy black stops just under his chin before it spikes into a deep black across his face. 

Mini backstory -

Had a very happy and popular childhood/teen years. Kieran was known for his musical abilities and later made a band called Dreamer’s Archive with a few friends. Their band became popular but died out after the disappearance of their lead singer Kieran. Turns out his girlfriend of 3 months had dragged him away and turned abusive. Forcing him to take more drugs and numb him. She slowly began to turn him into basically a slave for money. Letting people do whatever they wanted to him as long as they paid. Kieran couldn’t do anything to stop it due to the constant drugs in his system. He had a final straw moment and ran away while trying to OD.

VII

Name - Cole Lindsey 

Age - 25

Height - 6’5

Personality - 

Spitfire aggressive vessel. Cole often times tries to start fights with anyone he does not deem in his “circle” and or is not trustworthy. He always attempts to gain his old life back so he can feel the same freedom. Can be very flirty at times but if he is not growling/hiss or flirting, he is extremely quiet. Brooding almost but just does not have a lot to say.

Connection to Sleep -

Very unsure of him, 7 being a holy number his bond/connection is nearly as strong as Vessel’s. He is weary of him and chooses to act as though he does not exist sometimes. Cole oftentimes is forced into a trance due to acting against Sleep.

Transformation -

He is covered in scars, everything from his past life. Due to his scars being so many and some so wide, they are slowly turning into open eyes. They move independently to one another and blink/glare. The larger of his scars are opened into fanged mouths with long tongues. Dark black fingertips that slowly fade up to his elbow. His body is cold to the touch. His real/nature eyes are clouded over as though he is blind. 

Mini backstory -

He didn’t have the best home life so he picked to do anything to make money. In his part of the world he was able to join many underground and illegal organizations such as underground boxing, motorcycle and drift car racing. Had dated the girlfriend of the revival ground and ended up killing her after he forced herself onto his life during a race. They slid and she (Maddy) had hit a wall and broke her neck and split open her chest. Come tried to save her but ended up accidentally pushing her ribs into her heart. He was later killed by her boyfriend and his body was tossed into a river to decompose.

Angel(s)

Name - Velika (Ragnar)

Age - Unkown

Height - 5’1

Personality -

Soft and bubbly in moments, very playful. She is known to crawl things and be very independent. Hard-headed and refuses to take no for an answer. 

Stubborn independence bubble. She is known to want to do things her own way and will not stop till the task is complete. She does not care for help since she grew up believing in fighting for one's self. A dominant personality that often times climbs counters to get a laugh out of her friends/lovers.

Connection to Sleep - 

The ex-wife of Sleep, is technically still married but they are not together. That way anymore

First angel known to Sleep after getting kicked out of the god system…

Helper who always guides the first vessel (Elliot) to sleep

Transformation - 

Black wings, soft black around fingertips and toes, fangs, normal looking or the most part

Mini backstory - 

Grew up with her father teaching her warrior-like skills in private away from her mother. Mother was the village cook and was well-loved. Father ends up dying in war so Vel joins the fight at age 22. (Takes on her father's name) meets a wounded soldier and it turns out to be Sleep’s very first vessel. She helps him and they end up falling in love. They get married and have 2 kids. Second birth brings her to the brink of death. Sleep turns her into an angel for him hoping to save her. Vel is extremely upset and slowly begins to resent sleep. Is forced into following him through timelines and watches her children die.