#i got a little guided reading journal and some books

[katariah]

caved into the consumerist hellscape just for today because i need something to stay alive for atm and sometimes that is your cyber monday packages coming in

[ybklix]

𝐬𝐞𝐱 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐢𝐭𝐲

dear lord, when i get to heaven, please let me bring my man (ෆ˙ᵕ˙ෆ)♡ fr omg

★ pairing: idol!lee felix x fem!reader

✦summary: You got your dream job on one of the most important day for fashion industry, everything seems like a fairy tale, until you meet one of the people you are working for, which complicates your thoughts, a guy with an angelic face, however he is for you the devil wearing custom couture Tommy Hilfiger.

✭ content - tags - warnings: smut / one night stand / use of “y/n”/ handjob / oral sex / soft degrading / dom felix / semi public sex / unprotected sex / etc lol

word count: 5.1k

(masterlist)

♡ notes: 2024 felix at the met gala ♡

a/n: had to write smth ab my man looking this good on a big day, oopsies / all fiction, don't really know how's behind scenes lol / i'm watching the series so i'm romanticizing the carrie type of writing, enjoy!

There’s an old saying… “what happens in Vegas, stay in Vegas”, and for the New Yorkers with enough amount of luck, the equivalent of that would be: “what happens in the Met Gala, stays in the Met gala.”

You either had to be a celebrity with high status, or a very wealthy person… or sometimes, just part of the staff; yes you were in last link, but you were still happy.

There you were, on the first Monday of May, standing outside of the iconic decorated stairs of the Metropolitan Museum of Art, on the also iconic, 5th avenue of East side of Manhattan. Living your dream, because this year, you were inside, and not anymore as a viewer.

Life was going great for you, you’ll graduate from college exactly in nine days, and you were booked as a tour guide in the Met Gala a month ago. It was your dream job, even though you majored in journalism, working for Vogue was always your dream to be, you’ve been applying for the Met ever since you turned eighteen, and finally there you were wearing a vintage YSL black dress, from a vintage store in Soho, whose rent costs more than you apartment’s, with some Manolo shoes, living your little Carrie Bradshaw fantasy. But that didn’t matter, yeah, she was a woman with a steady job and you only a freshly graduated who expected to get hired as soon as you get your diploma.

They prepared you the whole past month, and you picked up your ID last week; this was going to look wonderful in your resume. You loved fashion, arts, writing, you didn’t care there was another 500 people doing exactly the same as you, you were there, living inside your bubble of the gossip girl and devil wears Prada vibes.

A lot of people hated New York; but you never could, you had a nice apartment on west side of Manhattan and an incredible fashion taste. You had to work as a staff for one the most emerging kpop groups, Stray Kids, or at least that’s what you read about online, you did your research: eight male members, only two of them fluent in English and the rest of them just shy to speak it out loud… you weren’t that unfamiliar at all, you recognized kpop is one of the greatest genres these days, but you were twenty one and going through your finals as the provided you that information, so you followed their social medias, caught up a little in their updates, learned their names and faces —which was very important—, but couldn’t fully concentrate in how handsome they were or at least get yourself a little of fangirlism. Once again, you were sinking in the lasts and very important moments of college.

So the thing was simple, they usually bring their own people around but for this event was the exception, once they stepped on the radar of these popular stairs, they were under the Met Gala staff, that’s when you get in.

You were waiting for them standing among the group of people who would be working the same as you, all with their dress code in black-only etiquette, to go unnoticed. It was your first Met Gala, although you didn't want to flatter yourself either in such a big way, but you had chosen a sexy dress with your back uncovered, you wanted simplicity, but not too much. The heels were starting to bother you a bit until, as fate would have it, a stout black man in charge of monitoring, with headphones on his bald head and clipboard in his hand shouted in a strong New York accent to the group of people you were in.

“The following celebrities are Stray Kids, I repeat so you can listen in the back, Stray Kids is coming! Their team step up to lead them in.”

Nerves got the better of you, it was your turn; you had seen your other ‘colleagues’ guide their respective assigned celebrities, so now it was your time. You hurried to the entrance, along with another girl and two other men. The large black van pulled up to sidewalk and finally, just as you had researched, eight pretty East Asian looking men exited one by one.

You tried to identify the one you had previously studied as their leader and one of the English speakers, until he finally emerged just to one side of you.

“It's this way, boys” your coworker, who was a little ahead of you, led the way.

The eight of them walked a bit and met their designer, the legitimate Tommy Hilfiger, while among the chaos of noise and nerves you tried to identify each one you were working for; they were all wearing long coats but you could distinguish that it was just to hide their real attire.

But apparently you were not the only one nervous, it was also their first Met Gala, an incredibly big event, a bit out of what they knew, in one of the countries where the music market was of utmost importance to consider and succeed, each one of them recognized that this was an important day and simply one more step in their artistic career. They were all nervous and excited; but even so you noticed a somewhat monotonous expression on each of them, you thought it was just nerves. You got a good look at them all as they talked to their designer in charge and noticed how each one had their own charm, they were attractive and smelled quite nice. You thought about how much fun this job is for you, being around celebrities.

“And y/n, right?” he came up to you, the man who had previously been giving directions to your boys.

You nodded, confused, he went on to say:

“I’m informed that you will be going into the museum with them, you can take the lead” he said in a strangely kind tone.

You smiled at him, you had forgotten the last time you met a nice New Yorker. It was when you realized it was time, you took a breath with your cheeks and released them, once you saw they finished their little talk, you took a step so everyone could see you and introduced yourself; it was part of your job and you had been trained for it. You started with a “hi, guys”, told them your name and added that you would accompany them to the exhibit. You looked forward to going in there.

You got the attention of all eight of them, after all they were still men, foreign men excited for a new experience. Once you turned around as you led the way you questioned if wearing that open back dress was the best choice, you hadn't really intended it that way; you also didn't expect them all to be 100 times more attractive in person, the pictures you saw on the internet didn't do them justice.

All the members of Stray Kids were with their respective emotions on edge, but especially one of them didn't know how to control himself. Felix, who at all times kept a serious countenance was more than excited and his body was reacting to it, betraying him, he was aroused. He wasn't exactly in the mood for sex, but somehow he felt uncomfortably hard. He was simply an excited little Asian boy with a not-so-little problem. An erection in his pants.

Felix had the experience at these kinds of fashion events, but simply something about this city drove him incredibly crazy. Somehow he was thirsty for sex… but he didn't feel like he was at this very moment. He had to put on his best show and control his body, he slyly checked his pants and it was a relief that the design was perfectly loose so it couldn't be noticed. But it all got worse when he saw his pretty young guide and staff for tonight, with her pretty makeup and perfect hair done, with her back uncovered.

Felix read her name on her ID hanging on her body and checked slyly if anyone else of his friends and colleagues thought the same as him… he could notice it in the look of his friend Bang Chan, however Felix noticed the little importance that Chan himself gave her and continued treating her with kindness and courtesy, who from time to time gave her a certain look was his other friend Seungmin, who was the master of disguise, but not for Felix, not after knowing him so long and living with him.

But that was just the thrill of the moment, as Felix took full control of his body as he approached his final stretch, an interview and then the longed-for Met Gala stairs. Like a pro idol, he knew how to handle it, and everyone had a spectacular and memorable entrance.

You saw them from afar, Bang Chan had introduced you to each one of them and thanked you for accompanying them even though you hadn’t start yet, you thought he was an unreal man, in fact all eight of them were, their perfectly manicured faces and the subtlety of their make-up were to you so…. You were speechless; but if you had to choose one, putting yourself in the shoes of millions of girls around the world even of your age discovering an attractive boy band, maybe among them all… it would be the only blond guy with long hair. You thought between sighs how cute he was, you were down bad when it came to cute boys, also the long-haired ones.

You remembered his name, Felix; a little strange, it sounded like an old name but somehow it fit him so well, you thought; now you were not only fulfilling your dream job, you would be together with eight handsome men, you almost wanted to let out a little giggle, but it was time to monitor how well they took the pictures of your “bosses” as they posed on the carpet.

You waited a moment more before finally entering, it seemed like hours, until finally the doors opened for you and there suddenly you felt your heart burst, not even Felix's pretty face could have impacted you so much, the exhibition of unique pieces in the haute couture of fashion history.

“You can start to separate and see freely” you mentioned to them.

You saw them, they looked totally lost.

“Mm, I don't think so, we like to stay together” Chan answered with a nervous smile.

“Well, if you like, we can start here…” you spoke.

You didn't want to keep them tied up nor did you want to feel like a big deal, you were only going to accompany them and follow their instructions, however they seemed to follow yours; you gave yourself the task of showing them every corner and giving them a little summary of what each exhibit meant, however you couldn't help hiding your excitement, your eyes shone with care and all eight noticed your adorable expression, even those who couldn't fully understand you because of the language barrier, your expressions spoke for themselves. And Felix couldn't take his eyes off you the whole tour.

Felix didn't understand what was wrong with him, whether it was the excitement of the foreigner, the significant change of time zone, his pretty part of the assigned staff, or the incredible urge to have sex. He wasn't normally like that… well, at least not in places like these. He left the dirty thoughts for later when he was in the quiet of solitude. But just now he had those thoughts of how hot it must be to be fucking someone while wearing that perfectly tailored suit, making a mess among all the tidiness that went with it all.

He wasn't like that… but the more he thought about it, the more he was tempted, he thought it would be the only time he would see you, that you had to be professional and not at all indiscreet, that it would only be one night. He was becoming more and more convinced, what was wrong with him? He was handsome, young, successful and very well endowed, he only needed to show his gifts to someone. Felix thought if that someone could be you; this was not Felix who thinks dating and love were important, suddenly something came over him, like a haughty alter ego blinded by his dazzling fame, ready to just have sex.

The main event started, the dinner and the show, you had gotten a table, only confirmed by the exclusively selected staff in perhaps, one of the worst areas, still you were in, from going to see the Met outside on the street, to being seated next to a bunch of celebrities in the same room; you were so happy you could die the next day thinking you made it.

But once the show was over, little by little so was your spark, it was time to go back to your reality and take a cab home; the folks at that table were mentioning something about an after party, among them and a bunch more… but you didn't want the smell of celebrities and fame to leave your pores and get lost in some stranger's apartment.

You were about to check out when a short woman rushes up to you asking if there was any Stray Kids staff at the table.

“Here, me!” you showed her your ID quizzically. “What's going on?”

“What are you doing here? They're escorting you to the after party.”

Puzzled, you mumbled a “what?” and followed her hurried pace as she was leaving.

“After party, with who?”

The woman stopped in her tracks and turned to look at you.

“Well, who are you working for.”

Impossible, you thought. You were supposed to check out and you weren't allowed to go outside the museum, they couldn't just invite you like that, could they? Why would they? Besides you were working for the museum, not for them. Sadly, you had to make it clear to them.

You walked towards them who were already at the main exit leaving with other celebrities, you got up the courage and approached them.

“Nice to meet you guys, but I think it was a misunderstanding, I can't accompany you, I work for the museum… they didn't give me directions to follow you.”

“And what time do you leave?” Chan asked you with a hoarse voice and eyes fixed on you.

“Just now…” you added awkwardly, not knowing what to say as the eight men stared at you.

“Perfect” Chan said in a thick accent with a smile.

“Now you work for us, let's go to the after party” spoke in a cold, distant and arrogant tone the pretty blond boy who had caught your attention.

You had not heard him speak, not until now. You were too surprised by the contrast of his angelic face and his incredibly thick voice.

You were able to register your exit and hurriedly kept up with the boys.

“We liked the way you explained the exhibition, we will have you as translator now” Chan told you as he quickened his pace leaving you behind.

It didn't make the slightest sense what he just said. You don't even speak Korean.

You sighed and could not deny the excitement of living another adventure, it was not like they were forcing you, you were now going to go to the legendary Met Gala after party.

You got into a dark van along with more of their staff and in the minutes of traffic you were finally there. You couldn't believe it, for a moment you stopped thinking that things made sense.

Luckily you were not alone, but accompanied by another girl in the staff, all looked great but it was evident that no one wanted to socialize with you and it was difficult for you to do so; so you felt uncomfortable and out of place, questioning if you should really be there.

After a few minutes you noticed that Felix stood up from his seat, taking the button of his suit and slyly approached you.

“Can you come with me?” he whispered in your ear with his deep voice.

You froze, and followed him without thinking too much, something wasn't right when it came to him…. besides, you thought you had to follow his instructions.

Felix went to a private bathroom, you wanted to think that maybe he wanted you to take care of his coat… if not, why else would he ask you to accompany him; he entered quickly, in a suspicious way and then came out quickly looking around frantically, until he pulled you by the arm and took you with him to that small elegant bathroom, locking the door. You couldn't process the speed of the actions and suddenly, you saw his piercing gaze in front of yours.

What was going on?

Felix had enough, watching you flirtatiously talking to Chan, sweet talking all his friends, there was nothing else to explain but that he was horny and wanted to have you right now. You weren't stupid, you noticed his looks but wanted to ignore them, but it turns out that wasn't what he wanted.

So there you were, inwardly struggling whether to play along with whatever he intended to do or put your ethics above… you analyzed him, he looked so good with his long hair and white suit, you'd probably never see him again, you wanted to bite your lip just thinking about how dangerous and fast-paced some kind of sex like that would be, on the sly. But you couldn't make up your mind, this was about Conde Nast, your dream, not easy access to fuck.

Felix noticed too the early darkness in your gaze, reflecting lust, he was already hard from just thinking about your ass slapping his pelvis as he thrust his cock in and out your pussy mercilessly. You so wet, making a mess, the two of you indulging in passion while a bunch of people decide to party outside.

“I don't normally do this but… I may only see you once in my life…”

Felix said in a voice thicker than what you had heard and came dangerously close to you, who were glued to the door, perplexed.

“Felix…” you wanted to think clearly but his full lips in a perfect heart shape were distracting you.

“If you want to fuck me… you have to promise me to never tell anyone.”

Felix whispered plaintiff in your left ear, losing himself in the scent of you hair. You couldn't take it anymore, if he kept talking, you might cum at any moment.

You understood the situation of things and the importance of his comment, after all he was still a global superstar. But not telling would not only be a beautiful secret to take to your grave and something fun to remember, but it would also be beneficial for you, because under no circumstances should a female employee have sex with her assigned celebrity. You would be banned from all of Manhattan or the city if possible, public enemy number one.

He moved closer to your ear, thinly brushing his lips on it and making you lose control little by little by his approach. You closed your eyes, completely lost, fuck it, you would fuck him and never see him again, at least not this intimacy.

“Why would I fuck and tell...?” you whispered completely lost in desire.

He chuckled, and finally grabbed you by the waist. Felix sought your lips and you kissed slowly, deeply and passionately, the kiss was so strong that you felt the pressure of his upturned nose on your face. You knew it was so wrong at any angle analyzed… but it felt so right, his lips were soft and he moved them with agility, your hands were still glued to the wall in surprise, but gradually you relaxed and managed to hold on to the ends of his jacket.

Felix also relaxed and his right hand moved down to your naked back and slowly and nimbly he moved his hand in until he squeezed and caressed your ass, his actions surprised you that you almost moaned at the touch, separating you a little from the kiss.

He pulled a few inches away from your lips and, as he ran his hand all around your ass, he looked you over with a look of superiority.

“You're such a slut, only wearing a fucking thong, almost like you were ready for me” he said with a husky voice.

This time you felt his noticeable bulge brush against your belly and his soft touch made you wetter and wetter.

“Get on your knees, beautiful.”

He ordered and you obeyed. Felix was sick of feeling horny, he wanted a quick fix, to strip the tight garments off his cock and be attended to urgently, once he had enough of his own, he was going to take over pleasuring you fully.

Your breath was getting shorter and shorter and you felt his member on the fabric, you thought about how good he looked from below and in all possible angles, then you pulled down his pants, ready to give him the best blowjob ever —or at least you hoped so—, you couldn't resist, you simply pulled down his underwear too, finding his throbbing and delicious cock so needy, its tip was bright pink and poor Felix was already showing signs of small droplets of pre-seminal fluid, and to think he had a fine and angelic face…. You had never felt so hungry and desirous, you were totally possessed; you wanted it in your hands, in your mouth, pounding your face, pounding your cervix… so you felt it, that firm hard manly hunk, at the mercy of your hands, feeling every texture of his skin.

Felix gasped, lifting his buttoned shirt a little, revealing a bit of his smooth but working abdomen. You took some of his fluid and spread it all over his length, lubricating it, it felt so good, but you were also so needy and desperate, and the thin fabric covering your intimate area didn't help at all, you felt the garment getting smaller and smaller, you felt your wet pussy growing and throbbing causing a delicious friction; but you thought you had to be more careful, your whole outfit was black, one stain of semen or fluids and you had to pay for the dress.

You moved a little away from him, hoping that no droplets of him fell on your attire, still you held his erection tightly with your left hand, making frantic movements, back and forth.

He was ecstatic, it was all he needed, to be sexually attended to; the New York air suited Felix Lee wonderfully, and the New York girl… he thought… she was out of this world, her hands felt fantastic on his hard manhood. He wanted to cum roughly, but he wanted to do it dirty in his employee's mouth and pretty face… he would never act like the beastly thing he was doing in Seoul, but new place, try new things.

So between sighs and gasps, he lowered his gaze and tried to communicate with her.

“Use your pretty mouth.”

You never thought he was going to ask, you didn't hesitate for a second, and the grotesque sound of your saliva dripping on his cock were heavenly; his sex was hot and smooth, the texture felt so good inside your cheeks but once again, you are desperate for him to take you and start moving your guts.

Within minutes, Felix cum in your mouth amid moans and groans, and the softest but most effective hair pulls, to make you go exquisitely deeper. You never thought he was so vocal, with a voice like that, you were in heaven; and it took you only a few seconds to drink his cum, as a reward.

“I think we need to get rid of that dress” he said trying to catch his breath. “I'll buy you 3 more, no worries.”

He took you by the chin, inviting you to stand up and helped you take off the dress, you were so excited that your vision was blurred and you couldn't think clearly… what was his next move….

You were amazed at how incredibly hard and standing still he was even after he had just cum, you thought, after all kpop idols did have it all, great stage presence, big penis, music talent, and for sex too.

He sat you on the small counter, him facing the mirror, the stone was cold and you were finally, almost, completely naked in front of him, wearing only your thin thong. Felix wasted no time and positioned himself between your legs, kissing you deeply and desperately as you carefully felt the tip of his penis brush your wet center each time they came closer, he moved his kisses down, to your neck, massaged your breasts and kissed and sucked them mercilessly, you wanted to scream with excitement but you were acutely aware that there were people outside, never mind the noise of the party. Once on your chest, he turned his angelic face up, with a dark mischievous look and that's when you felt his thumb caress your clit.

You moaned in relief, finally your exhausted pussy was going to be given attention. His movements were slow until each time he increased the acceleration, you couldn't help but writhe in pleasure and when your body contracted ready to climax, Felix introduced his fingers inside you, he felt the softness of your insides so lubricated and ready to feel his erection beating you frantically.

“Look at me” he asked once he saw that your attention was focused for a few seconds on his right hand playing with your pussy.

“Uh-mm” you murmured, nodding softly, almost in moans.

You weren't thinking clearly but decided to hold back the urge to cum just to feel his fingers inside you for a few more moments. You looked into his big dark eyes; you felt that he looked more calm and serious with that gaze locked on you and his innocent freckled look, unlike you that your eyes was totally submissive and you were almost about to cry with pleasure, oh and Felix loved that, all that mess because of him.

“I'm going to cum, Fe…” you moaned.

But you couldn't even speak, he accelerated his movements and your belly contracted so pleasantly bringing you to your first orgasm.

“I'm not done yet; let me clean up that mess you made.”

And without warning, Felix leaned down, gripping your thighs tightly, two of his fingers still freshly wet from my fluids, marked on your thigh; Felix ran his hot tongue across your cunt, licking all your cum.

He began to eat your pussy carefully, almost accomplishing step by step and you loved the delicacy of what he was doing, you were seeing stars, you didn't want this to ever end, you wanted him on you all the time. You took advantage and also took hold of his tightly tied hair. He did it so well that you had to cum a second time.

And finally, the act you both had been waiting for since he locked the door; Felix had saved the urge and was once again swollen and throbbing, screaming for attention and action. He cleaned the edges of his mouth in a attractive manner.

“Shit, I don't have a condom” he said in annoyance.

“It's okay, I'd never have your baby anyway.”

Felix smiled and you watched his erection in front of your pussy, until he gently pushed it in, until you closed your eyes once again in pleasure.

“I'm going to cum inside you and make sure your pussy misses every part of me.”

Felix whispered hotly in your right ear as you pressed your bodies closer and closer together, until you ended up with your legs wrapped around his waist, crushing bit of his outfit, and your hands on his shoulders. And then, he rammed you fast and as delicious as no one else had ever done, you moaned softly to avoid any strange noises from outside. It was incredible, you thought, his rhythm was strong and constant and when you began to lubricate his penis more indicating your soon orgasm, Felix separated from you and in quick movements he changed your position, lowered you from the counter, turned your body and introduced his penis making you stand still and making you both see yourselves in the mirror.

You couldn't be happier, you loved the fiction of his shirts stuck to your body of the clothes he still had on, and he began to pound more frantically and wildly, giving way to the sound of your skins colliding and your fluids combining. Felix held you tightly by the waist as he pulled your body away and closer, controlling it in his own way, you wanted to help him, moving your ass a little but his grip was too strong. You were with your back arched, holding tightly to the sink, giving choked moans as you felt his strong thrusts. Watching him fuck you in the mirror was fucking hot, he looked so attractive with his half-open mouth letting out soft moans and his concentrated countenance, frowning and his eyes locked on your ass, then on you.

Felix grabbed your hair in his fist and pulled it to pull you closer to him and glued you to his body, just when you thought it couldn't get any better, his thrusts were deeper that way and you were touching the edge.

“Do you like the way I fuck you, little slut, huh?”

You tried to nod between gripping your hair.

“Say it.”

“Yes-yes, Felix, ahh it feels good.”

“You feel good too, sweetheart, you're doing a great job.”

His dirty talk close to your ear were just more elements to make you cum faster and faster and each time you were more and more surprised, as his pace increased, finally making you climax, for the third time.

Felix smiled in victory as he felt your pussy muscles first tighten and then relax releasing more of your luscious fluids, wetting and hugging his hard cock, Felix continued another small moment, until he cum gloriously inside you and a little more above your ass.

You were perplexed. The sexual connection had been real. You both tried to catch your breath, he helped you put your dress back on and as you changed, Felix felt a little bad about just using you for his carnal desires, for you honestly it had been just a good fuck and you had your feet on the ground being aware that someone like him and you could never be together.

“So… Are you officially working on something related for Vogue?”

You smiled, as you tried to touch up your makeup, it was a bit badly retouched.

“No, it's my dream, they just hired me as a one-off for this year.”

“Maybe you should learn Korean and move there, Vogue Korea is still Vogue, isn't it?” he mentioned flirtatiously.

You chuckled again, that implied many things and at the same time none for you.

“Go out first, y/n, then I'll go out. I'll transfer you for the dresses outside, I don't even have my phone here” he said, finally in his deep voice calmer, almost looking tender, in his thick accent.

You smiled and looked at him one last time, before finally leaving for the party. Leaving you wanting more, but also with nothing more than just sex in the city.

[azrielbrainrot]

Moonlit Shadows - Act I

Pairing: Azriel x F!Reader

Description: When tasked to find the once famed Temple of the Moon Goddess, Azriel only expected to find old, forgotten ruins if anything at all. He could have never imagined that not only would he find a temple but also someone who would change his life forever.

Tropes/Tags: Star Crossed Lovers (in a way), Forbidden Romance (kinda), Slow Burn, Mutual Pining, Strangers to Friends to Lovers, some Angst with a Happy Ending

Warnings: a bit of angst

Word Count: 12,4k

Rating: 18+ (this part is actually kinda chill)

Notes: Just as a warning (?) reader has white hair and white silvery eyes in this story but those are the only physical descriptions I will make, they're kind of part of her magic. Also when I started writing this I totally intended on it being a one-shot but the story got away from me and I decided to split it up into 3 parts. I really hope you enjoy!

You've been pacing in front of the temple's door ever since the sun set over the mountain, the warm rays slowly being replaced with the brilliant pale moonlight. You keep wringing your hands together and smoothing down any possible wrinkle on your dress, repositioning the diadem perched on your head to make sure it sits perfectly. It's not often you get visitors up in the temple, let alone any your Goddess went out of Her way to warn you about and gave clear instructions to help in any way you could. You can't quite distinguish if the anxiety building inside you is the result of excitement or wariness - possibly a healthy dose of both.

The last time someone climbed these steps had been almost a full decade ago. It was a quite short affair as well since the visitor only needed a book long forgotten in the temple's library. You'd read it multiple times before, and offered it without hesitation, prompting the traveler to thank you and immediately start descending the mountain, going on his way all the while muttering about finally having all the knowledge he needed to achieve his goal. That small interaction served as a reminder of your purpose in this temple, filled you with a sense of accomplishment you usually felt in such situations, but you've been alone in between these walls since then.

After almost four centuries you're more than used to the quiet, to the way your steps echoe in the grand empty space. The loneliness had been a more prominent companion, but even that had come and gone throughout the years. You had no place in the world, nor family or friends waiting for you anymore. All you had left was your duty to the temple. But you're still only fae and the longing for some company catches up to you every once in a while. At times you think you only want the reminder that you're still alive.

There wasn't much to do around the temple either, it magically gave you food and kept itself clean so you didn't even need to bother with that. You could recite every book in the library at this point and you found you weren't the best artist as you tried your hand at painting and sculpting, even music and dancing. The flowers around the temple seemed to grow effortlessly, not even needing you to tend to them either. Even keeping a journal proved inefficient as there was little to write down, the monotony of your life not interesting enough for such a thing. When tasked with guarding the temple, you would never have imagined boredom would end up being your biggest problem.

You still recall the day your hair started turning white and your eyes dulling, losing their color slowly until they turned into the silver, almost white color they were now, mirroring the moonlight. At first your parents thought it could be some disease or even a curse, they were scared for your health and safety beyond measure, but when the Goddess contacted you and sent you the amulet you now wear religiously around your neck, it guided you and your parents to this very temple hidden in the mountains of the Night Court. She then told you Herself what the fates had written for you, presenting you with an oath and sharing her power with you, making you the Keeper of the Moon Temple.

Everything had seemed impossible to believe at first, the time of the Gods had passed millenia ago, it was hard to find someone who could even name any of them anymore, you certainly couldn't at the time. So when you were told what your role in life was going to be you had been completely blindsided, not even knowing what to make of your new occupation, of being trusted with such an important task when you weren't even three decades old.

Truthfully, you expected at least a few people to show up every once in a while, asking for help or guidance. You even prepared yourself for there to be some threats to the temple, but things had been mostly peaceful and quiet, so quiet. You understand why guarding the temple is important, this type of knowledge and power can't ever fall into the wrong hands, the safety of the world depends on it, but sometimes you wonder what your life could have been like if you hadn't been chosen by fate to hold such a heavy burden by yourself.

Your heart stalls in your chest when you feel a presence approaching, used to feeling them pass by unannounced as the temple remains hidden in its protective spell. When it's clear this is the visitor the Goddess had warned you about, as they entered the wards seamlessly, you take a deep calming breath, adjusting the diadem one last time, and open the heavy doors, revealing the temple to the moonlight. As the stairs come into view, you step up to the threshold and clasp your hands together behind your back, waiting to be of help as your Goddess instructed you to.

Distractedly rehearsing your greeting, unused as it was, you almost miss the dark shadows swirling up the milky steps, passing by you and escaping to all corners of the temple before you have time to react. Your head snaps back to follow them, breaking the calming character you were falling into in preparation to fulfill your duty. Some of your power drips down to your fingertips, casting a white glow under your skin, as you study these shadows intently. Not finding any ill intent in them, as strange as they were, some of the tension leaves your body. They simply lay before you, more and more of these wispy shadows gathering together as they swirled around themselves, not paling even a fraction under the bright moonlight or your powers. Strange little things indeed.

You wonder for a moment if this was the visitor the Goddess had mentioned, not knowing what to make of it or how to approach such a situation. She had not specified if the visitor was fae, though you're not so sure how you would be able to help shadows. Before you could embarrass yourself in trying to speak to these creatures, the same presence you felt earlier makes itself known, much closer than before. Looking up at the starry sky, you find strong, dark wings carrying someone directly to the temple, a glimpse of blue shining over their dark form.

This was already the most interesting visitor you've ever had. You'd never had the pleasure of meeting any winged fae before, and, given their reaction to the fae approaching, you were confident the shadows were under their command. Those were definitely even rarer than winged fae - Shadowsingers, you remember them being called.

As they fly down closer to you and the temple, slowly letting the wind guide them, you feel a strange tug on your chest, and then another, this time strong enough that it makes you look down at yourself with furrowed eyebrows. Your confusion only deepens when you notice a bright string connected to your heart, raising your hand to try and touch it. Your fingers pass right through it, as if it wasn't there in the first place, and soon after you try catching it, the string disappears from sight.

You lay a hand down over your chest, feeling your heart beating under your palm. The string was invisible now, but you could still feel it tugging incessantly, as if urging you to look up. You follow its silent command, almost gasping out loud when you find the winged fae a lot closer than you had expected, catching him as he lands with a harsh tud on top of the steps, arms bracing out to maintain his balance as if he isn't quite used to landing yet. The shadows swirling at your feet rush to him, and a bewildered expression takes over his face, likely mirroring your own, as he stares at you, mouth agape.

Wide leathery wings stand behind him, open in a somewhat awkward angle as he stands frozen in place. As the moonlight filters through them you realize they're not quite black as they appeared before, the insides actually have a beautiful crimson hue to them. Your eyes seem to have a mind of their own as they keep cataloging his entire form, taking note of every detail as if it was crucial information. He was covered from head to toe in black leathers, you recognize it as an armor of sorts. It clung to his every muscle, showcasing them as much as it protected him from harm. You find the same blue light from before twinkling in the midst of all the black, studying it closer to find it came from gems scattered across his armor, you're almost certain they hold some of his magic somehow.

Moving up his neck, you find tan skin shining under the moonlight and black hair curling into his forehead softly, locks messy and a little damp from the flight. The stranger also had striking hazel eyes, and you find yourself struggling to not get lost in them, only bringing yourself to break eye contact when you notice the glittery string once more in the corner of your eye, only this time it's connected to his chest.

Your breath catches in your throat as you follow its path slowly, careful not to lose the thin thread once more, finding it leading back to your own heart. You feel another tug, prompting you to look back up at the male in front of you. A hand falls over your heart at the implication, right where you could feel the phantom string had tied itself. Yet another tug confirming your suspicions.

How could this be?

⭒.˚ ☾⭒.˚

Azriel wasn't expecting his evening to turn out like this when he was called to Rhys' office. While he knew there was going to be a mission of sorts, he never imagined it would involve a temple no one has ever heard of or a Goddess long forgotten. Even with Amren's knowledge and the old books she found corroborating her words, Azriel was still anticipating coming back to Velaris empty handed. He's flown over these same mountains at least a million times in the five centuries he's been alive, and never once has he noticed a temple or any signs of magic.

The woods under him looked completely untouched as far as he could tell, no one choosing to live so far from the neighboring towns, isolated between the trees and steep mountains. His shadows filtered through the woods in case he missed something from his high position, even if he thought this search was in vain, it didn't mean he wasn't going to give it his best to fulfill his High Lord's order. He felt almost naked without his shadows latching onto his body though, the single companion still perched on his shoulder in order to relay him information not giving him nearly enough coverage to feel at ease when he was so far from home.

Mission and discomfort aside, the wind felt heavenly hitting his skin on this warm summer evening. It had been a while since he was able to fly for this long without dreading his destination as it usually meant he was visiting the Illyrian mountains, the Hewn City or a much more gruesome mission than the one he found himself in at the moment. It also feels good to step away from the full houses he found himself in nowadays. As much as he loved his family, Azriel had always valued his alone time and it was getting harder to find himself completely alone in the midst of missions and the ever growing inner circle.

As he was flying over the edge of the mountain, Azriel was getting ready to make the trip back and throw a very satisfying “I told you so” at his brother's face when his shadows suddenly disappeared right before his eyes. The abruptness of it made him panic for a few seconds, clapping his wings so he was hovering in the same place and was able to study the space ahead of him, trying to feel for any type of ward or shield but coming up empty. He could still feel his shadows, and knew they were alright given how calm the remaining one was as it sat on his shoulder and simply urged him forward, as if confused why he had stopped in the first place.

Azriel trusted his shadows blindly, they had never steered him wrong after all, and so he did as he was told and slowly started moving forward once again. After living for five hundred years surrounded by magic, there isn't much that can surprise the shadowsinger, but he can safely say he's never seen anything like this. He felt his body pass through some sort of gateway, one that went unnoticed by him until now, and as he did his surroundings began changing as if they had only been a mirage before.

In between the trees a path carved in white stone could now be seen, glinting under the moonlight in complete contrast to the rest of the dark woods. As his eyes followed this path, going up stairs of the same stone carved into the side of the mountain, he found a white temple sitting right at the top. It wasn't a huge building by any means, but the white eerie glow it emitted made it impossible to miss had it not been the spell covering it - one that would make the one who kept Velaris safe for centuries pale in comparison - and keeping it hidden from the world and unwanted eyes.

Amren had been right after all, something that happens more often than he would ever care to admit. The Goddess of the Moon still had at least a temple left in this world, leaving it behind when She took to the sky. Not much is known about the old Gods, but Azriel, born and raised in the Night Court, felt himself relax as he looked up at the moon shining above him, not believing this Goddess could be anything but benevolent. She had watched him fly over from Velaris after all, it almost felt like he was guided here.

The entire temple was made of white stone - it appeared to be the same type of stones used for the path and stairs leading up to it, only more polished. There were silver highlights carved into the walls and columns, these glowed with an intensity Azriel had never seen. Most of the roof was a huge skylight, likely so the moon could illuminate Her temple and Her followers could bask in Her brilliant light.

Given the color scheme of the entire building, his shadows were easy enough to spot, which would have been a big problem had he decided on a more covert operation when coming to the temple, he was more than glad he came here in peace. His little companions seemed perfectly content as they swirled around and over themselves right in front of the temple's doors, a few steps from a figure completely clad in white.

Even after finding the temple where he had only seen trees and shrubs before, he couldn't help but feel even more surprised that there was someone inside it. A sudden spark of magic has the shadowsinger moving faster, a gasp catching in his throat when he sees bright, pale light coming from the figure's palms. Even this wasn't enough to send the shadows that would be at the receiving hand of it into alarm, something curious on its own as they were usually as suspicious and careful as their master.

Azriel was already within earshot when the person in front of him decided his shadows posed no threat and the white light disappeared from her hands. At first glance she might have looked like a regular high fae female, but there was a different kind of power flowing through her, as shown by the strange way this light magic manifested itself, something Azriel had never felt before.

Upon flying down closer, his feet almost touching the top of the steps in front of the temple, he realizes she had not been wearing a white hood or veil as he initially thought but her hair was completely white. There was an unnatural element to it as each strand shone under the moonlight, almost rivaling it in its intensity. The floor length dress she wore was of the same color, made of a light, breathable fabric, almost translucent in certain areas, swishing softly in the faint breeze. She had not looked up at him yet, seemingly intrigued as she watched her own chest. Perhaps looking at the pendant she wore around her neck, the magic coming from it could almost be seen in its intensity.

Azriel took this moment to take her in, not knowing what to say since he was the one possibly trespassing. She was absolutely gorgeous, truly mesmerizing in her beauty and demeanor. It was almost impossible to believe she was real, standing right in front of him and not a Goddess walking his dreams. For a moment Azriel wonders if this is truly the Goddess, if She never left the land of the mortals as it was once believed, instead keeping herself safely hidden in these uninhabited mountains, but when she looks up from her necklace, eyes falling on him for the first time, all thoughts evaporate from his mind. White, silvery eyes meet hazel and a sudden rush of inexplicable feelings hit him right in the chest, squeezing his heart tight and taking his breath away. It felt as if the world had broken apart and put itself together, as if everything finally made sense. The only thing he could make sense of was one word, swirling around in his mind and completely taking over every cell on his body. Mate. You were his mate.

In his stupor, Azriel forgets he was still up in the air, wings freezing along with the rest of his body and sending him falling towards the ground. Thankfully, he hadn't been too high up, and was still able to land on his feet, knees only buckling under his weight slightly as he steadied himself. This had to be the most ungraceful landing he's performed since his brothers were training him between giggles and harmless teasing when he first joined the Illyrian camps. If he wasn't so surprised and his brain was able to formulate a single thought, he would be cringing at the fact that you had just witnessed it, his mate had witnessed it.

It takes several moments before he starts catching on to the situation, the ringing in his ears subsiding and the rest of the world re-emerging around you. He hadn't even noticed his shadows had returned to him, ecstatic for their master finally found his equal. Azriel tries to school his features in an attempt to keep at least some dignity, in fear of coming on too strong as well, especially since it seemed you were in the same predicament as him, a curious but stunned expression locked in your beautiful face as you studied him. His stupid Illyrian senses make him flare out his wings a little before he has the chance to fully take control of his body. When your gaze finds his once more, his heart stalls in his chest before speeding up at an alarming rate. You haven't even spoken a single word to him, but his heart already sang for yours.

⭒.˚ ☾⭒.˚

The oath you made before your Goddess rushes into your head as you study the handsome male in front of you. How could this be possible? The fates had decided your life lied within the temple long before you were born, so why give you a mate? A bond like this is extremely rare, you'd never seen one in your entire lifetime, albeit you lived isolated from the world for most of it. Still, this was something only a few were blessed with, a bond stronger than what mortal minds could even comprehend, so why waste it on you? Could the fates and the Mother be this cruel?

You can't even bring yourself to hope he didn't notice the brilliant bond forming between you - an angry twist pulling at your heartstrings when you dare to think of hiding it - considering the expression on his face and his silence, it seems he's already more than aware of it. All it took was a single glance and it had fallen into place for both of you.

In the midst of the rushing thoughts invading your brain, you try to remember what you've read about mating bonds. There was a book talking about them in the library, of this much you were sure, but its contents were evading your racing mind.

Gaze falling to the floor, trying to sober up from what you imagine to be one of the most intense occurrences anyone could go through, you almost miss the step he takes towards you. The surprise of it makes you flinch slightly, but it was enough for him to notice and take the same step back, wings coiling up tightly to his back and shadows moving to cover him almost completely, excitement wiped off his face and replaced with a hurt expression.

Your gaze falls on him once more, a self loathing feeling crawling up your throat and making you want to beg for his forgiveness on your knees at the thought that you put that expression on his face. This bond would take some getting used to, in what world would you kneel before a male you've just met. Still, you didn't want him to think he scared or even disgusted you in any way, mate or no mate, that was extremely rude.

You clear your throat softly, remembering the weight of your role in this temple and trying desperately to fall back into character, hoping the familiarity of your duties will bring your mind some peace and help you get through this moment.

“Forgive me, it isn't often that we get visitors,” his entire body tenses up even further at your words, but it relaxes as you keep speaking, “I welcome you to the last Temple of the Moon. I'm the keeper and sole habitant of this temple. I've been tasked to keep it safe from any possible threats, but also do my best to help anyone the Goddess deems worthy of being shown the way, just as you have been.”

You try not to look too long in his general direction in fear of getting lost in his eyes once more, but that's close to impossible when you're talking to him and he might be the most beautiful male you've ever encountered. Taking a step to the side, you hold out a hand towards the door, inviting him into the temple, something you should have already done.

He nods his head once after watching your outstretched arm for a moment longer, and then makes his way inside slowly. As he passes by, you can't help but breathe in his scent, it feels intoxicating and it takes every bit of strength in your body to not let your mind linger on how well it would smell mixed with yours, until you couldn't point out where one ended and the other began.

A gasp pulls you out of your betraying thoughts, a smile finding its way to your lips, knowing the sight was making him speechless. It always sparks a little pride in you when someone gazes upon the temple for the first time. Even after living here for centuries, this temple's beauty still takes your breath away. The entire floor was made of replandescent white stones, silver gems weave highlights into them, creating patterns across the entire room, maps of constellations and lunar phases, and giving it a particular glow of their own. They were illuminated by the giant skylight making up most of the ceiling, as to allow both the moon and sunlight to enter. You've tried identifying the materials used in this construction before but ended up coming up empty. It seems the precious stones and gems used no longer grew in this world, perhaps they never did.

At the far corner of the room there was an altar, one without statue or offering table, but an altar all the same. Even when She walked this world, your Goddess never accepted gifts or ever allowed anyone to replicate her image because even that could end up leaving traces of her power behind. The altar looks empty right now, and you catch yourself wishing he could be here to see it on a full moon, when the moon rays fall right over it and you can communicate with and receive any orders the Goddess might have for you. The entire room holds an even more intense glow during that night of the month as well, you're sure he would find it fascinating.

Making your way around him, careful not to step too close or accidentally touch his wings, you catch sight of his awe stricken face, tan skin glowing beautifully under the moonlight. A small, fond smile appears on his face when his gaze falls back on yours, and you almost curse the Mother for the challenge she just put in front of you. His beauty was truly otherworldly, it rivaled every shiny gem and stone in this room, maybe even the moon herself. How were you supposed to act normally knowing this was your mate?

“I've never seen anything like this before,” he admits softly, eyes never straying from yours. The sound of his voice makes you pause, it feels strangely familiar, like something you've been waiting to hear your entire life. There's a curious kind of magic around mating bonds, you don't know how it's possible for someone you've just met to already have so much power over you, even when you're trying your best to ignore him.

“I still find myself at a loss for words when gazing at this room as well,” you agree, wanting to cringe at the bashful expression you know has fallen over your face. Your plan of keeping a detached demeanor while fulfilling your duties was doomed from the start. You clasp your hands behind your back before continuing in what you hope is a professional voice. “The Goddess warned me of your arrival and left orders for me to help you in any way I can. If you tell me what you seek, I will give you what you came here for as long as it's within my abilities.”

His eyebrows furrow slightly at your words. “How did you know I was coming?”

“The Goddess knows more than us mortals will ever be able to grasp,” you explain as vaguely as possible while hopefully not raising any suspicions. There's not a single cell in your body that thinks he's untrustworthy, but they're incredibly biased, and the inner workings of your role as the Moon's keeper must be protected.

He seems satisfied enough with your answer, but there's a different kind of air about him now. As if remembering he doesn't know you, and has found himself at your mercy.

“You haven't told me what you came for,” you remind him. If you sit in silence for long your thoughts will start drifting again.

“Right,” he clears his throat, a pinkish tint covering the tips of his rounded ears. “I come on behalf of the High Lord and Lady of the Night Court.” Your eyebrows raise at this, not expecting him to be such an important person. “One of the High Lady's sisters has been turned into a seer recently, and given that she wasn't even born fae, these powers have proven extremely hard to control.”

You've heard the story of the human who saved the fae from the evil clutches of Amarantha, and her sisters who were tragically thrown in the cauldron by King Hybern and turned into fae against their will. Your Goddess had even told you one of the sisters vengefully stole her powers from the cauldron, and the other was gifted seer abilities. Given the circumstances in which this all went down, it's understandable that she has been having trouble controlling her powers. Being a seer is an exceptionally heavy burden, and she's still so young too.

“We have some books that might be able to help, both in controlling one's power and pulling an entranced fae out of any visions or dreams they've found themselves stuck in. Was that what you were hoping for?”

“Yes,” he admits, apparently relieved at having found what he was looking for, “We found texts mentioning the followers of the Moon Goddess often had prophetic dreams, and wrote entire manuals on how to navigate them. Since Elain wasn't born with these powers these books seemed perfect to help her, and so the High Lady sent me searching for them.” You nod, motioning for him to follow you as you turn and start walking to the library, already making a mental list of all the books that might help his friend.

Even lost in thought, you sense him stopping in his steps as you're walking down the corridor, overwhelmingly aware of his every move as you were. This prompts you to turn around and face him in question, only to find him watching you in amazement.

“You're breathtaking,” he blurts out before he can catch himself, making heat rush up your neck and settle over your entire face. He looks away embarrassed for a moment, one of his shadows crawling up his neck and over his ear, before looking back at you with a bashful look. “I'm sorry. I just- Is it normal for you to glow like this?”

This power has been a part of you for so long, you almost forget about the way your hair lights up in the dark, an aura surrounding you as well, giving you an overall ethereal glow. “Yes, I harness power from the moon and She glows so…” you trail off, biting your lip as he keeps studying you. “The library is right up ahead,” you add, turning your back to him once more so you can gather your thoughts for the nth time since he stepped foot into this temple.

As you navigate through the familiar rows of shelves your heart finally calms, easily picking up the pertinent books. You can't help but keep watching him out of the corner of your eye, not out of suspicion, but curiosity for his every reaction. He seems content with following after you as he watches the decorations and studies the books sitting on the shelves, not once asking you what you're giving him, simply carrying the books you hand him. It makes you wonder if he usually trusts everyone this easily or if it's something reserved for you.

When you hand him the last book, you move to the back of the room slowly, the place where you keep some important magical amulets and tools, waiting on any sign from the Goddess forbidding you from lending him any of them. He comes to stand beside you then, likely noticing your hesitation.

“There is also an artifact that I think could help your friend,” you start, picking up the bracelet in question and holding it up as you explain its power, “This can help numb one's powers.”

“Like faebane?”

You shake your head, “No, this is completely painless, but it's vital that it is only used when she's finding herself lost in her visions and you're struggling to pull her out. This is not to be used as a crutch. If she used it to suppress her powers too often, she might never be able to take control of her full powers and this bracelet could become something she can't live without.” He nods, hopefully understanding the gravity behind your words. “It's also extremely rare and dangerous so I ask that, as soon as she has a better grasp of her abilities, I would say within a few years at most, this bracelet is delivered back to the temple so it can be kept safe.”

“What happens if we don't return it?”

The question makes you tense up and close your hands around the bracelet, your voice coming out clipped as you answer him. “I'm not entirely sure as no one has ever attempted something so foolish as long as I've been here, but those types of transgressions are handled by the Goddess so I imagine you would not be able to keep it even if you tried.”

“I wasn't considering keeping it. I was merely curious,” he rushes to explain, sincerity dripping from every word and making you relax a bit.

“Curious?”

“If you would be the one to come for it,” he confessed.

A warm tingly feeling spreads through your body as you digest his words. Would he seriously consider stealing from a God just for a chance to see you again? Even if it meant being at the end of your wrath? Can you be confident the bond wouldn't drive you to such extremes as well?

“I can't leave the temple unattended,” you murmur, much too softly for your own good. Your emotions are running all over the place, it almost seems like they're fighting to see which one will take control of your body, and unfortunately, you have an inkling as to which is winning as his scent overwhelms your senses once again.

“Of course,” he says, taking a small step closer to you, shadows mostly retreating from his body, “Forgive me. I didn't mean to upset you.” Must his voice sound like a cup of hot chocolate after a day spent playing in the snow?

It doesn't help that you've been in this temple for so long that you can't even recall the last time someone touched you, not even sexually, no one has so much as held your hand or hugged you in decades, ever since your parents passed. Looking at him, you know you could get lost in his arms, your head resting against his strong chest.

It's only when you squeeze the bracelet too hard, a bit of its power zapping through you, that you're finally able to pull yourself from the beautiful hazel of his eyes, and your consuming thoughts. Clearing your throat and handing him the bracelet. He only hesitates a second, likely pulling himself out of the moment as well, before carefully taking it from your hand, conscious of not letting his skin touch yours, much to your dismay.

You can feel your eyes widen at the sight of his scarred hands before you have a chance to school your features. The armor he wears and the sword strapped between his wings tell you he's a warrior, but you can't imagine what could have happened for this injury to scar like this. Someone employed directly under the High Lord must have access to the best healers in the court. Suddenly, anger bubbles in the pit of your stomach at the thought that someone dared to hurt your mate.

This time he's the one to pull away from you abruptly, shadows returning to their master, and that infuriating string tugging at your heart as he does. It makes you want to reach out and hold his hand, reassure him somehow, but thankfully your brain catches up to the thought that might be overstepping, and so you simply nod at him and ask him to follow you back to the temple's main room once more.

The walk back is filled with a heavy atmosphere, not only considering your oversight, but also at the realization that you must send him away now, likely never to see him again. If you're lucky he will be the one to return the bracelet, and you will be able to see him in a few years. The thought makes you slow your pace.

It's only when you reach the heavy doors, that you allow yourself to turn to him, his face reflecting your feelings perfectly. You briefly consider mentioning the bond, at least to make sure he feels it too, but you fail to see what good that would bring. You still can't leave the temple and, now that he's gotten what he came for, he will not be able to return either. This will be the last time you see each other, regardless of your feelings.

He studies your face carefully, perhaps wondering the same. It seems he reaches a conclusion as he speaks up, “Can you tell me your name?” He sounded hopeful, but somehow scared of asking, as if denying him could hurt him beyond comparison.

You whisper your name hesitantly, knowing this isn't just another stranger, this was your mate. He repeats it, tasting it on his tongue as he stares at you with an intensity you almost couldn't bear, but were unable to look away from.

“My name is Azriel,” he offers willingly, like he wanted nothing more than to hear you say his name, and who were you to deny him this when you were already withholding so much? You repeat his name the same way he did yours, the impertinent little silver string connecting you and your mate reappearing as the delicious word left your lips.

You keep repeating it in your mind as he thanks you for your help and you watch him take flight, hesitation written in his entire body language as his wings slowly carry him over the clouds, looking back down multiple times as if fighting himself to keep moving. You repeat it once more out loud, when you can't see him anymore and you know he's out of earshot. This time his name is followed by a broken whisper of an apology.

⭒.˚ ☾⭒.˚

The flight back to Velaris was one of the hardest ones Azriel has ever attempted, noticeably taking him much longer than it would have under normal circumstances. He has had to fly back home on an injured body and even injured wings, carrying another with him – Cassian of all people – and he's had to fly through the most extreme weather, heavy rain, snow and the torrid desert sun. All of those things had seemed easy compared to what he was experiencing now with a well rested body.

Both Rhysand and Cassian had mentioned how the mating bond made them act differently, how it seemed like it was taking control of their body and pushing them to act a certain way, but he didn't expect it to be this bad. His every instinct was screaming at him to turn around and go back for his mate.

He even had to take a break along the way, after watching the temple disappear right before his eyes, hidden inside the spell that had kept it safe for millenia. As the sight of the brilliant building was replaced with trees and rocks, the only thing going through Azriel's mind was that he might never see his mate again, the mere thought sending his heart into disarray. He spends a good while sitting under the moonlight, looking ahead at where he knows she is, while his shadows do their best to comfort him. Trying desperately to wrap his head around everything that happened, and how much his life changed in such a short time.

If he had been given a warning, a chance to prepare himself, then maybe he would have approached things differently, but getting blindsided by a mating bond wasn't in his plans. In fact, it had been a good while since he had stopped hoping for a mate.

He had longed for one most of his life. For someone that not only was his equal, but was also able to connect to him in ways only those who have experienced such a thing can begin to comprehend. A person that would accept him no matter how wretched he was, how much blood he has had to wash off his hands for the sake of his court. Someone he would love with every breath in him, even if it ruined him completely.

So many don't truly believe in mating bonds until they see them in front of them, but Azriel always did. He'd seen the worst this world had to offer and knew that if there was such darkness, then its counterpart would be equally as strong. And what could be stronger and brighter than love?

It wasn't until his brothers found mates of their own within a year of each other that Azriel started truly wishing for one though. Before, it was nothing more than a dream, just as he had dreamt of flying when he was locked in his cell, of seeing his mother when his cruel father kept him away from her, but seeing the happiness the mating bond had brought his brothers and how amazing the connection they shared with their mates was, he couldn't help longing for the same.

That was until enough years passed, everyone around him happily mated or in loving relationships while he stood by and watched from the same dark corner of the room. Azriel had convinced himself he wasn't worthy of a mate, even now after seeing you he can't help but feel the same. You were perfect in every aspect of the word, a beacon of light even kept away in your temple, while Azriel was nothing more than a monster. The feared Spymaster of the Night Court. Always ready to drench his hands in blood for the sake of his family and his home, always covered in shadows. A lesser fae, Illyrian of all kinds.

You deserve someone better, of that much he's sure, but the Mother had decided you were equals, and Azriel didn't mind doing his best to be worthy of you even if he had to work for it for the rest of his life. He's been waiting to love someone for so long, has been saving all of that inside him, and he wants nothing more than to shower you in affection, in reverence. Except it didn't seem like he would have the chance.

For most of your interaction, Azriel was convinced you had also felt the bond forming between you two, but he couldn't be sure, not when you hadn't even mentioned it or alluded to it before showing him out. Maybe he had read too much into things, let his own feelings bleed into his analysis, or maybe you simply didn't want a mating bond, not with someone like him. It didn't seem like you knew of him, but who's to say you haven't heard of the awful things he's done, and decided you didn't want anything to do with a monster like him.

The thought had his shadows rushing to soothe him once more, whispering vehement denials of his unworthiness as they covered him. Unfortunately, they wouldn't answer any of his questions about you, claiming it wasn't their place to explain your feelings or situation. In a way they were right, but that left him with no idea of what to think.

Azriel sat on that mountain, mulling over everything that had happened until the first rays of the sun started rising over the horizon. It wasn't until Rhysand reached out to check on him, worried at his spymaster's unusual tardiness, that he resumed his trip back to Velaris, this time passing through shadows along the way to cut his time shorter, hoping his brother hadn't caught glimpse of the heartbreakingly beautiful female consuming his every thought. Trying desperately to clear his mind as the cool wind hit his face, preparing for the meeting that was waiting for him as soon as he got home.

“So the temple truly exists?” Rhysand had been as skeptical about the temple's existence as Azriel, finding it hard to believe that such a thing could be hidden in his own court without his knowledge.

Azriel nods and sets the books you've given him on the dark desk, dropping the bracelet on top of the pile carefully, trying not to be reminded of the way you had handed it to him, or focus on your scent still clinging to it faintly. Shaking himself out of it and letting the spymaster mask fall over his face, he starts explaining how he had found the temple behind a powerful spell, going into detail about the building itself, the keeper who had helped him and the books and bracelet given to him, including the warnings you gave him, making sure to stress the fact that the bracelet was to be returned as soon as Elain gained enough control of her abilities.

“You really didn't feel the wards around the temple?”

“No, if my shadows hadn't disappeared right before my eyes I wouldn't have even noticed they were there.” So much had happened that Azriel almost forgot how peculiar those wards were, in fact all the magic present in the temple and in you had felt different.

“And this keeper?” His heart speeds up treacherously, enough so that Rhys gets a curious glint in his purple eyes, undoubtedly noticing it. “Tell me about her.”

A soft scowl takes over his features, a strange possessiveness creeping up before has the chance to quell it. “She was waiting for me at the entrance. Apparently the Moon Goddess warned her there was a visitor coming.”

“She can talk to the Goddess?”

“It seems so,” Azriel hesitates for a moment, “Her magic is different from any fae I've seen. Her hair is completely white, and her eyes aren't much darker, maybe a bit more silver. There was a certain aura about her, her entire being seemed to glow beautifully under the moonlight, even more when we moved inside. She truly looked otherworldly. In that moment, she looked even more radiant than the stars and the moon combined.”

A moment of silence falls over the room as everyone digests Azriel's words, tiny gasps leaving Feyre and Elain, who had been out of it for most of the conversation as a result of yet another one of her visions, and Nesta's jaw dropping significantly as they were not used to hearing the Shadowsinger muse about someone like this. Unfortunately, the others have seen him drunk enough when he was younger, so it wasn't as much of a surprise.

“What was that, brother?” Cassian's teasing voice cuts through his thoughts, “I thought you didn't resort to poetry.”

Azriel looks up at this, heat rising to his cheeks at the amused looks shared by everyone in the room, realizing he had lost himself in his descriptions of you, unable to keep them as clinical as he normally would, especially when it came to a mission.

“I just meant her magic manifests in a way I've never seen before,” he finishes lamely, one of his shadows oh so helpfully crawling up his neck to notify him that no one seemed to believe his excuse.

“Right, her magic,” Nesta mocks, suddenly interested in hearing about the temple after focusing on the books that would be helping her sister.

Thankfully, Amren didn't care about whether he found the keeper beautiful or not, and wanted to keep the conversation on track, a bored expression on her face as she pulled the attention back to her and the topic at hand.

“You said she called herself the keeper of the temple, correct?”

Azriel nods at her while checking his mental walls just in case, lest he also let them fall in his moment of distraction, and his High Lord or Lady saw something they shouldn't. He can only guess what feelings and thoughts would be attached to your image in his mind. If they saw this he would never hear the end of it.

“I believe she not only can communicate with the Goddess but also shares some of her powers. It's hard to determine just how powerful she truly is,” the ancient one turns to Rhys and Feyre, a serious look taking over her features, “She could become a threat to us.”

“She's not a threat,” his voice cuts through the room, protecting his mate instinctively.

Rhysand raises one annoyingly perfect eyebrow at Azriel's sudden outburst. Some of the amusement still lingers around the room, but the anger behind his statement was undeniable, creating some tension and confusion between everyone. It's not often they see him so on edge, to the point of raising his voice at Amren of all people.

He tries to calm himself as much as possible, knowing this is a symptom of the mating bond and that his brothers and sister-in-laws might be able to figure that out, and tries to explain himself once again.

“I was the one who talked to her, there were no ill intentions when she guided me through the temple and gave me the books. She even added more books than we wanted or knew existed, and the bracelet. She helped us willingly.”

Amren studies him through narrowed eyes for a moment longer before finishing her earlier thought. “Even if she had any ill intentions, keepers are bound to their temples and can't physically leave, so there wouldn't be much to worry about.”

It feels like the world stops when Azriel hears these words. Every little hope he was clinging to in regards to your bond escaped him in that moment. If what Amren said was true, you couldn't leave the temple, even if you wanted to come and find him, and he couldn't find the temple unless he needed something and the Goddess showed him the way. He could very well never see you again, or only once more, when Elain got better and he had to deliver the books and bracelet back to the temple. Was that why you ignored the bond? Because you knew there was no hope for the two of you?

Azriel spends the rest of the meeting in a sort of trance, barely able to listen to what his family was talking about, or even register what they decided when it came to helping Elain use the books. It was impossible to focus on anything when it felt like his life, a dream that had barely started was crumbling right before his eyes. He only tunes back in when the meeting is over and most of the Inner Circle starts leaving, hoping he can at least go rest from his flight, take a long bath and find a quiet place to be alone and digest these life changing last few hours.

He was already on his feet, dragging his exhausted body to the door when Rhys called out his name, making him turn around in question. “There's something else we need to discuss.” His brother was always the most perceptive at the worst times. The last thing Azriel wants to do right now is discuss his miserable fate with anyone.

Everyone filters out the room then, even Feyre who drops a kiss on her mate's cheek before following her sister out - a gesture he's more than used to witnessing but bears a different weight today - leaving the two brothers alone in the quiet office. Azriel doesn't move from his spot, standing in the middle of the room with crossed arms as Rhysand studies him, daring him to start the conversation, secretly praying he simply has another mission to send him on instead of the conversation he's almost sure is about to start.

“Are you going to tell me what happened with this keeper?”

Azriel has to physically stop himself from sighing. Why couldn't the Mother let him have a moment after everything that has already happened in the last few hours?

“Nothing happened,” he sounds defensive even to himself, his mind too preoccupied to try and mask his emotions, “She gave me the books and then I left.” This much was true, unfortunately.

Rhys simply hums, always sounding irritatingly sure of himself. “So you wouldn't mind showing me your memories of last night, right? I'd like to take a good look at the temple. It seemed quite intriguing,” he pauses for a second, head tilting a fraction to the side, mouth forming into a smirk, “and so did she.”

A snarl escapes Azriel's mouth at his brother's words. Even if he knew he was being baited, controlling this damned bond was impossible right now. Rhysand's smirk only deepens, like a predator who successfully lured its prey, since his brother gives him the exact reaction he was expecting with that little comment. No wonder Azriel has to work so hard as his Spymaster, it's a miracle Rhys has lived this long.

“You look very defensive of a female you've only exchanged one simple conversation with.”

“Like I said before,” he says, that snarl not quite leaving his lips no matter how hard he tries, “She helped us without a second thought, even more than we expected. I just don't understand why everyone keeps insisting that she might be a threat.”

“I didn't say she was a threat, I simply asked you to show me what she looked like.” The High Lord taps his purple painted nails on the table, waiting for a response. When it becomes clear that Azriel isn't taking the bait, Rhys keeps going, “Can't blame me for being curious of how this keeper beautifully glows under the moonlight. She looked otherworldly, you said?”

The thought of assassinating his loving brother crosses Azriel's mind. He doesn't even know what to respond knowing those were his own words, and any reaction would be amplified by the mating bond. The High Lord had him right where he wanted him.

As he keeps staring at his brother, shadows climbing up his body until most of him is covered from those intense violet eyes, Rhysand's expression changes, a somewhat defeated look replacing the earlier amusement as he accepts that he'll have to pry the truth from his spymaster.

“Azriel, I've known you for over five centuries. I can tell when you're hiding something from me,” his face and tone turning even more serious as he continues, “I also know what a fresh mating bond feels like, the emotions it evokes in us.”

Azriel stares at his brother for another moment, before realizing there was no need to try and pretend he wasn't right, letting out a sigh before sitting down in the chair across from him defeatedly, shadows settling while his wings drooped, enough to touch the floor.

“If you already know, why are you asking me about it?”

“I didn't expect this to be your reaction,” he says, thoroughly studying Azriel's face. “I don't understand why you wouldn't be happy. I know it can be scary, but you've always wanted a mate, Az.”

“There's nothing to be happy about.”

Rhys simply rolls his eyes, “I know a bit more about mating bonds than you do. Trust me there's a lot to be happy about.”

His temper rises at this, emotions still not having settled - he's starting to wonder if they ever will. Even his shadows were becoming overstimulated, not knowing how to soothe their singer in these circumstances.

“Didn't you hear what Amren said? She can't leave the temple, she's bound to it, and I can't go back there since it's hidden under whatever spell that was,” the words almost caught in his throat, “I'm never seeing her again.”

Saying it out loud makes the whole situation unbearably real. It's not often Azriel sees himself in conversation such as these, always one to ignore his feelings for as long as possible, and then isolating himself when they become too much, but his brother knows him too well, as he said before, and was prying out everything too easily.

“I don't even know if she wanted this,” he finds himself whispering.

“Why wouldn't she?”

Azriel swallows all the self-pity, the unworthiness he felt when it came to you, or anyone else really. Diving into these feelings would lead them into a different conversation, one he wasn't sure he could handle, much less right now, and so he opts for the simpler answer.

“She didn't mention the bond once, she was ignoring it – if she even felt it at all,” he leans back and runs his hand through his hair, “my feelings were muddled the whole time I was there so I can't even know for sure.”

“You didn't tell her you were her mate either,” Rhysand reminds him.

Would things have gone a different way if he had? Or would you simply let him down as soon as he brought it up? Did it even matter? Would he be able to survive your rejection?

“She told you the temple showed itself for the people who needed it, right?” Azriel looks up at his brother, nodding. “Seems to me like you need to talk to her.”

⭒.˚ ☾⭒.˚

You're not entirely sure what one is supposed to do after finding their Mother-blessed mate, and then proceed to send them on their way, possibly to never return. Not being able to get even a wink of sleep and spending the next few hours searching your library for any information on mating bonds seems appropriate though. There wasn't anything written in these books that you didn't already know about mating bonds: extreme attraction, a connection of emotions, feelings of primal possessiveness, the possibility for a love unlike any other.

There was no mention of the silver string you'd seen tied around both of your hearts, but the bond seems to manifest itself differently for everyone, and the magic your Goddess has poured into you was peculiar to say the least. Even Azriel might not have seen or felt it manifest the same way you did, but that doesn't mean it's not there. Denying it is out of the picture at this point.

The section about rejecting mating bonds caught your eye, but it quickly soured your mood. It seems there's no way to reject a mating bond and hope for life to ever go back to normal, especially for males as they would always feel like a part of them was missing. The book didn't exactly go into depth on the topic – there can't be too many other idiots thinking of turning down a mating bond, – so it didn't mention anything about just ignoring the bond. Would it just fizzle out until you could barely feel anything, or would it end up with the same effects of a rejected bond? As much as you knew this bond was doomed from the start, you didn't want to convict Azriel to a lifetime of madness, or even worse. It was bad enough he couldn't get a mate out of you.

After your mood deflates at the bleak prospect for your future, and the sun has already replaced the moon, you decide to indulge yourself for a moment. Since your encounter had been so brief, you ended up not finding out too much about Azriel aside from his name, and, as much as there was a voice nagging at the back of your mind, warning you that trying to learn more about your mate won't help you in successfully ignoring the bond at all, you're still only fae and curiosity got the best of you. How could you not be curious about your mate?

You'd heard stories about a shadowsinger working under the High Lord of the Night Court, but you didn't know if that was him as the High Lord had changed since then. If it was though, this would make him a truly important figure for this court, country even. You can't help but feel proud at the thought.

Your search for information on Shadowsingers soon proves fruitless, not being able to find much else aside from their abilities to communicate with shadows, rare as they are, so you move onto researching winged fae instead, in hopes of finding out what kind he is. There are various kinds, this much you know, but for some reason you've always imagined them all to have feathered wings. It's at times like these that you wished you had traveled more when you were younger.

Most of the day is spent like this, tucked into your favorite sofa in the library, the temple refilling your teacup and offering you little snacks as you search for any bit of information that could help you understand who Azriel is. A tug on your silver string finally pulls you out of the moment, body immediately going into alert as you feel your mate nearing. These feelings are entirely too abstract, there's no way of knowing if he's flying over the temple or simply a bit closer than he had been an hour prior - which could still be halfway across the Night Court. You'd also found in one of the books that mates could attempt reaching out to each other through the bond, the descriptions of the resulting feeling appearing quite similar to what you were experiencing at the moment.

You try to ignore it and carry on reading your book on wings - the irony not lost on you - but the string keeps tugging incessantly, even more firmly now, and you suddenly get the feeling that he was actually close, possibly even trying to reach out at the same time or following the bond.

Had he come looking for you? You told him the temple kept itself hidden unless the visitor needed something from within these walls and the Goddess allowed them passage. He had to know that he wouldn't find anything more than trees and shrubs in this forest, the temple keeping itself out of sight even if he had been here before and knew its exact location, such were the wards around this place.

Putting away the book and sitting up on the sofa, you wonder what you should do. There's no way of communicating with him, and you won't be able to let him in, no matter how desperate you were since that decision was not your own to make. Your role was to protect the temple, but you knew he wasn't a threat either. Were you to simply stand by and watch while he looked for you, only to be met with silence? The Mother seems to have a twisted sense of humor.

As you were preparing yourself mentally for what you assumed were going to be a tough few hours, you feel the unmistakable sign of someone passing through the barrier, prompting you to stand up and winnow straight to the main hall, opening the front doors in a rush, only to find a familiar dark figure waiting for you.

If you weren't witnessing it with your own eyes, if your heart wasn't beating at that rhythm that seemed reserved solely for him, you wouldn't have believed this to be true. Your feet move of their own accord, carrying you towards your mate as he stands at the entrance to your temple, a contagiously hopeful expression on his face as he watches you move to him.

“How did you get here?” You can't help the dumb question, not being able to understand what is happening in the midst of your surprise and every other feeling that came with his presence.

“I needed to talk to you,” he explains in a breathy tone, smiling down at you like he wasn't sure if this would have worked either, if he was actually going to be able to find you.

The Goddess showed him the way, if She hadn't he wouldn't have been able to find you, even with any shadowsinger trick he might have had up his sleeve. Could She know he's your mate? She had been the one to warn you of his arrival the day before after all.

You're still trying to gather your thoughts when he continues, skipping over all the pleasantries as if he couldn't keep the words in any longer.

“You're my mate.”

Hearing the word coming from his mouth makes your heart soar, a tingling feeling spreading over your entire body as if lava was now running through your veins. This was not a confession you needed to hear, but the bond welcomed it anyway.

“I know,” you admit, a bittersweet smile overtaking your features.

“Are you unhappy with it? With me?” You quickly shake your head in denial, but he continues before you have the chance to explain, “I would understand it if you were, and if you don't want the bond, I won't force you to accept it. I promise I will never hurt you.”

Is this what has been going through his mind since he left? That you wouldn't want him? The thought makes you swallow, you've only wanted to spare him as much pain as you could, not hurt him more yourself.

“Azriel, that's not it. There's nothing wrong with you, or any reason I wouldn't want you as my mate” you assure, “but I swore my life to protecting this temple, and I can't physically leave the grounds. That's not fair to you.”

He doesn't seem to be surprised at the information, meaning he was probably already aware of your predicament and decided to come talk to you anyway, but he still takes a moment before speaking, thinking through his words as he watches you, shadows coming up to whisper in his ear.

“Did you make a vow of chastity or anything similar?” The question takes you aback for a second, heat rising to your cheeks at the implication.

“Not explicitly, no,” you clear your throat, “but it's hard to keep a relationship when you're bound to a temple hidden in the middle of nowhere. I can't even walk past the first few steps.”

Azriel looks behind him at your words. If he took a few steps down, you wouldn't be able to follow him, a different set of wards keeping you within these grounds. When he meets your eyes once again, you add carefully, “This isn't a relationship worth pursuing when we both know it won't end up working.”

“I think I would like to decide that for myself,” he says as he takes a small step closer to you, “if you'll allow me.”

“What?”

“I would like to come visit you whenever I can, and get to know you. This… I don't think we should throw away a chance like this so lightly, not without at least giving it a try.” He closes most of the distance between you, raising up his hand and holding his palm up for you to take, “Even if it never becomes a romantic relationship, or if it ends up breaking both of our hearts, I don't want to be the person who didn't fight for something so special in fear of getting hurt.”

You watch his hand as you mull over his words. It's not as if he doesn't make sense in his argument, you're more than aware how downright stupid it is to throw away a mating bond when some people spend their whole lives searching for one, but you're scared, for both of your sakes. Letting your mate into your life, even without accepting the bond, knowing that there will come a time when you will want more from it than what you're capable of having would not simply hurt you both, but change both of your lives beyond recognition – it could even kill you. And yet, staring into his hopeful eyes every little reason why you should be turning him down, walking back into the temple and closing the door behind you, seems to escape your mind.

When his hand lowers slightly, wings drooping as well, possibly taking your hesitation as denial, your hand moves to hold his instinctively, surprising the both of you. You had been kidding yourself into thinking you could fight a bond like this. The smallest sign that your mate would leave and your body moved to keep him by your side. Your decision has been made. You can only hope the Gods will have mercy on you.

“I would like to get to know you too, Azriel,” you say, squeezing his hand in yours as a blinding smile takes over his devastatingly handsome face. “As long as the Goddess shows you the way to the temple, I don't see anything wrong with… talking.”

He lets his thumb run over the back of your hand before raising it to his lips, sending your heart into disarray as he leaves a soft kiss on your skin. A flush covers the tip of his ears, and you catch a flash of the silver string connecting the both of you.

“Then I promise to come see you as often as I can.” He lets your hands fall between you two, fingers still intertwined as you stare at each other like fools. You catch yourself after a moment, thanking the Mother for living in this isolated mountain for once so no one could witness this.

“Do you want to come in? You must be tired after your flight,” you invite, letting go of his hand, missing the warmth of his skin immediately.

His gaze drops to your hand before meeting yours once again and nodding, following you inside into the main hall he had been in before. It looked different in the light of day, his hazel eyes studying it once more.

“I didn't fly all the way here,” he starts, gaze still stuck on the stone covered walls, “I can travel through shadows, similarly to how most high fae can winnow.”

“Oh.” You watch as his shadows move lazily around him, coming up his legs. “Is that one of your shadowsinger abilities?”

“Yes.” You wanted to ask more, your earlier curiosity returning, but you find a conflicted expression when he meets your eyes, you can also feel it in your chest, and so you wait for him to decide if he wants to share it with you.

“I'm not high fae,” he admits.

“Right, the wings,” you let out, much too excitedly, as your eyes fall on the huge appendages on his back, “I've never met anyone with wings, and haven't even heard of featherless wings. I searched in the library for types of winged fae, but most of our collection is a bit outdated, and the Goddess was never too interested in those sorts of things so I couldn't find anything that fit your description.” Your mind finally catches up to your words then, eyes widening before falling to your hands as you play with your fingers, and add lamely, “I have a lot of time on my hands here, and I didn't think I'd see you again so…”

You dare a look at his face when his silence drags on too long, finding him watching you with a surprised expression, wide hazel eyes staring into your white ones. His shadows had crept up his neck once again - singing to him you suppose.

Azriel finally finds his words after another moment, your eyes not straying from his for a second, “I'm Illyrian,” he starts, studying your face carefully before continuing, “As far as I know, we're the only ones whose wings have no feathers.”

“Illyrian?”

“Have you heard of it?” He seems scared somehow, but you're not exactly sure why he would be. You try to remember where you've heard the word before, only taking you a moment to remember them as people who live in the mountains up in the north, and were part of the High Lord's army.

“Yes. I know they're people who live in the mountains, and fought in the war but I didn't even know you had wings,” you gesture to them, “I didn't get much of a chance to travel before I came to the temple, so I've never met any Illyrians.”

“That's all you've heard?” You nod slowly, eyebrows furrowing at his insistence. “Illyrians have an unfavorable reputation. The males train their whole lives to fight, and the females aren't regarded as much more than a means for procreation,” he explains further, “Some have started changing their ways, slowly, but most camps insist on their traditions, no matter how cruel. They- We just don't have a good reputation.”

You start understanding where he was getting at. Some fae had trouble opening their eyes to how the world was changing around them, choosing to remain willfully ignorant to the harm it brought those who were different from them, who they deemed as lesser. He was scared that, had you heard about whatever cruelty he's seen from his peers, you would judge him for it. You feel a little offended that he would think so lowly of you, but the truth is he doesn't know you at all, or you him.

“It's hard to outlive archaic traditions when we live for centuries. I wouldn't ever dream of passing judgment on an entire group of people for the beliefs some of its members insist on clinging onto,” you clasp your hands together behind your back, shrugging as you smile up at him, “and I might be biased, or even wrong, but I think you're very kind, Azriel. You came all the way here to help your friend, with no real proof that you'd find what you were looking for, and then you came back to ask permission to visit me, even when you thought I might not accept it. Cruel is the last word I'd use to describe you. I'd rather go with sweet.”

“Sweet?” He asks, a flush rising to his cheeks and a bashful smile finally erasing that conflicted expression off his face. “You think I'm sweet?” You hum in agreement, your grin growing so large it hurts your cheeks. “I'll have to let my mother know at last someone agrees with her.”

You let out a laugh, the image of a baby Azriel getting showered in praises from his mother entering your mind. You almost have trouble imagining him as a child, but you have no doubts he was more than sweet, adorable even, with his round cheeks and small wings.

“So…” You lean back on your heels, intertwining your hands behind your back. “Do you want me to show you around the temple?”

“I would love to,” he agrees with a blinding smile on his face.

[hysteria-things]

✿ PROMISE? ✿ PART SIX.

ʚ♡ɞ 𝐋𝐀𝐒𝐓 | 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 | 𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐘𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 | 𝐍𝐄𝐗𝐓 ʚ♡ɞ

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: chris x fem!reader

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: you and chris hang out after what feels like forever, and he finds something personal of yours under the bed. because he’s nosy, he can’t help but open it.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: swearing, that should be it :)

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 2,034

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: changing up some things…

(dividers by @strangergraphics)

𝐂𝐇𝐑𝐈𝐒 𝐒𝐇𝐀𝐊𝐄𝐒 𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐃 𝐈𝐍 disbelief, the nostalgia hitting him like a truck. nothing and he means nothing has changed about your house from when you guys were little. hell, there still was the wall by the doorway where it had your heights written in pencil. it faded throughout the years, but it’s still visible. his heart hurts when he realizes it stops at age ten.

the both of you talked as if you guys didn’t stop talking at all. “let’s chill out in my room.” you say, grabbing his hand and guiding him up the stairs.

although he was in here the other day, he didn’t get to really look around until now. your room captures you perfectly. you sigh, sitting down on the mattress that is filled with stuffed animals. you pat the spot next to you for him to take, and he does. “sorry if it’s messy.” you bite the inside of your mouth before speaking again. “now what? i was never a good host.”

“whatever you want to do.”

groaning, you get up and wipe your palms on your pants. “what i want to do is go pee. i’ll be right back.”

walking out of the room, you leave chris there alone. he rose himself off the bed and slowly walked around. he laughs to himself. he realized you became more comfortable with him again in the short hours you’ve been together, despite recent events. next to the closet door, there’s a bookshelf with a ton of books on it. the same bookshelf that was filled with dr. suess and harry potter. now, it’s filled with… interesting.

he leans down, reading the spines with furrowed brows. twisted games? the nanny? icebreaker?

stay curious for this one, chris.

next to the flatscreen TV on the wall, you have a lot of other stuff hanging up, one being your varsity award for volleyball. two pictures however stood out to him — besides the dinosaur with sunglasses painting you also have hung up. one of them is a polaroid of you and nate, recently took at the local fair. chris makes a face at that.

the other photo is of these two kids, roughly the age of seven. they look like twins; boy and girl. the rest of your family doesn’t live here, hence all of the pictures of them. because chris does nightly facebook searches to keep up, he noticed these are your cousin’s twins.

smiling softly, he thinks about how much you love your family. you’ve always been a family person, even if they aren’t here. he understands what that’s like. being in L.A. while everybody else is in boston sucks, but luckily they got a few months to be back home.

as he turns around to sit back down on the bed, he sees a notebook sticking out from under it. he doesn’t want to look through your belongings, but curiosity got the best of him. he bends over to pick it up and open it while lowering himself to sit down.

there is a note on the inside of the cover.

he skims through the pages to see how much you wrote and it is a good amount. he stops when the handwriting suddenly changes, meaning that you stopped writing for a while. the other entries had smudges on them except for the ones he landed on. this one must be new.

so, he started to read.

dear journal,

i’m sorry i ditched you for about a year and a half. i don't have an explanation for it, but lately, i’ve been itching to write. i remembered i had this journal - thanks to my cousin bethany for getting you for me for my 9th birthday. i know you’re an inanimate object, but i forgot how relaxing it is to write down my thoughts for nobody except myself.

i can’t help but cringe at what i wrote in the past, and i sincerely apologize.

“i can’t wait to marry kevin one day!”

“omg, he talked to me today!”

“i think we’re going to be together forever!”

i’m gagging just rethinking that moment. come on now.

anyway, life has been crazy lately. shoutout to the sturniolos for ditching me and acting like we didn’t grow up together! appreciate you guys for real. i’m exhausted.

the thing is, i always had trouble sleeping. i know i just said i’m exhausted, but it’s 3 AM and suddenly it feels like i’m wide awake. i just know i’m going to be grumpy for the next few days. a lot has happened ever since they left. i’ve changed, and i hate/love it at the same time.

i’ve been going out more, doing shit i shouldn’t. (don’t tell my parents…) something also happened a while ago that’s still a blur. i can’t put my finger on it. all i remember is that the police came to my door and asked me a ton of questions about somebody.

anyway, life has been happening too fast. i would appreciate it if it slows down a tad. on the upside, my mom said the rest of the family is coming here soon. i don’t know when, but soon. bethany would for sure be happy to hear i’ve started writing here again.

my thoughts are draining the second i write things on this paper, so i’m going to try and get sleep. i’ll update you whenever i can.

- y/n

⋆⁺₊⋆ ✿ ⋆⁺₊⋆

dear journal,

me again: at approximately 4 AM. today has been something else, let me tell you. my mom came up to me yesterday and told me some unfortunate news. can you guess who’s back in town? if you guessed my lovely besties, you’re correct! and do you know whose birthday it is, meaning i have to go to the party? you’ve guessed it! my BFFs!

doesn’t help that i’m on my period right now. i can’t do this shit.

either way, i had to be there for nate. he’s the one that stuck around. marylou will forever be the original best friend in my opinion. she stuck around, too. it’s her children i got a bone to pick with. (except justin. he’s cool.)

seeing them in person for the first time in so long had me tweaking. i admit that i was a bitch to them at the party, and not to be a bitch now, but they deserved it. however, when i saw chris, my first thought was about how he’s such a cutie still. i hate my mind for that.

i tried to ignore them for the rest of the party, and it was semi-successful.

- y/n

⋆⁺₊⋆ ✿ ⋆⁺₊⋆

dear journal,

you will not believe this. nick messaged me on instagram saying how sorry they were and asked to meet up at my house. for whatever reason, i said yes and they came over. we sort of cleared everything. key word, sort of.

they said they wanted me back in their life and apologized for what they did. i still need to give it time, but we do want to start hanging out again soon. i missed those dorks.

that’s until chris stopped me and asked for the note he wrote to me when we were little. the note he promised me to keep, and i obviously did. i’ll tape it here.

this little piece of paper is my favorite thing anybody ever gave to me.

- y/n

⋆⁺₊⋆ ✿ ⋆⁺₊⋆

dear journal,

sorry, i left you hanging for a few days, a lot happened in such a short amount of time.

long story short, jaiden and claudia invited me to a party. chris texted me while i was there. he seemed a bit weirded out about why i was at finn yaw’s party, but i hope he knows i wasn’t there for any specific reason. i do appreciate that he cares about my well-being, even after the downfall.

i got home not long ago and he’s texting me as i’m writing this. he just asked me to hang out tomorrow which shocked me a little, but i said yes.

not going to lie, i’m excited to hang out with chris, even though i have no idea what we’re doing. hopefully, it goes well.

- y/n

chris snaps out of it as he hears you walking back into your room, making him shove the book back under the bed. he feels kind of honored to be a part of your little notebook. “sorry, that took longer than i wanted. i had to deal with something.” you say, sitting down on the bed with a sigh. you furrow your eyebrows at him. “why are you smiling like that?”

“smiling like what?”

“like… that,” you say, circling your finger that was pointing at his face.

“no reason.” he shrugs “anyway, what’s next on the y/n agenda?”

you look around the room while biting the inside of her cheek. “are you hungry? my dad made ribs last night and it’s to die for.”

jumping up from the bed, you motion him to follow you. you walk into the kitchen, flicking on the four light switches that are on the wall. you waltz over to the fridge and open it, going on your tippy toes to grab the container on the top shelf. “how many do you want?” you ask, going on your tippy toes once again to grab paper plates in the upper cabinet.

“three is fine. do you need help?”

you shake your head. “no, i got it.”

chris stands by the island that separates the kitchen from the dining room. he leans against it, watching you plop three ribs onto his plate and only one on yours. you take his plate in your hands and reach up to the microwave. you stick your tongue out and groan. you’re struggling because of how short you are since the microwave is on the wall above the oven.

“i got it.” he chuckles, grabbing the plate from your hand and sticking it in the microwave. his hand grazes the side of your arm as he puts in two minutes and presses start. you cross your arms without looking at him. “i could’ve gotten it.”

“yeah, right.”

sitting there for two minutes feels like ten before the microwave finally goes off. you start running to the microwave but he stops you. “i don’t want you to hurt yourself by reaching for it. i got it.”

he takes the plate out and feels a rib with his finger. he nods. “it’s good.”

“okay.” you say with a low tone. he looks towards you to see you staring at your rib that still lies cold on the plate. “what’s wrong?”

“i don’t think i want this anymore.” you quickly open the container, plop it back in, and stick it back in the fridge.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ✿ ⋆⁺₊⋆

𝐀𝐅𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐑𝐒 𝐎𝐅 𝐓𝐀𝐋𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐀𝐍𝐃 sitting in your room, matt had to come pick his brother up. you and chris are currently standing on the front porch, having one last word with each other. matt is waiting in the van at the end of the stairs.

“it was nice hanging out with you again,” you say shyly. “we should get everybody back together soon.”

“i agree.” he smiles “i’m sure i’ll text you later.”

getting closer to him, you pull him into a hug. it was abrupt, but he hugged you back of course.

then, the horn of the van beeps causing you to jump and pull away. “can you hurry the fuck up? nick is waiting for us at home and is obnoxiously annoying. mom also made dinner.” matt screams from the window.

“i’ll see you around,” chris says, jogging down the stairs. he gets in the passenger seat and grabs the seat belt to strap himself in. matt waves to you, which you graciously return.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ✿ ⋆⁺₊⋆

𝐈𝐓 𝐃𝐈𝐃𝐍’𝐓 𝐓𝐀𝐊𝐄 𝐋𝐎𝐍𝐆 𝐅𝐎𝐑 them to get home. they live close to your house, and the duration is no longer than five minutes. he takes off his shoes at the door as his phone vibrates from getting a text.

y/n😶‍🌫️

thanks for today

i had fun :)

𝐭𝐚𝐠 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭!

@bunbunbl0gs @lexisecretaccx @thy-mission @angelic-sturniolos111 @sophssturn @mattsneezing @janiellasblog @blahbel668 @meg-sturniolo @mattslolita @sturnbaby @imwetforyourmom @tillies33ssss @sturnifyed @raysmayhem-72 @ripmattitude @p1xieswrld @alorsxsturn @txssvx @sttzee @multiluvr @delilahprentiss @matthewsspecial @sturnolio-luvs @sturniolho @suga-daddy-69 @tworosesblackthorn @luckistar-posts @gnxosblog @junnniiieee07 @sturnioloslurps @tylerthecreatorsrealwife @flowerxbunnie @imaslut4kehlani @sturniolosandmoree @hertvgirl @whoreforchrissturniolo @hearrtsturns @stars4matt @freshsturns @loverrsposts @sturnlcvr @elliesturniolo1 @tpvmz @user283926392 @lalalands86 @sukiipjs @sturniologirl813 @leahrab @chrissturniolosslut @h3arts4harry @sturnioloblogs @creamoncreamoncream2 @ivyyyyyysposts @mirxcle1 @iluvm4ttsturni0l0 @catalina-island @mbsbaby @mattsdollie @pinkfarts @slut4mattsturn @thesturniolos @vickeyzloserz @nononopenono1 @bitchydragonparadise @gdsvhtwa @hrt-attack @bellasfavbisexual @dwntwn-strnlo @venusbabysblog @meerkatzthings @crazychrisl0v3r @maggieflms @strtuniolo @mutualsafe @riasturns @sturniolowhore @antpile00 @ashley9282828 @stingerayyy2 @sturnsjtop @luverboychris @yapperchris @imaslutforoldermen @madisonlovesyouu @poetatorturadaa @chr1sgirl4life @hiimolivia @jo-777 @sturnskiss @st4rgrlll @mattyblover07 @sm-ec @mattluvsmarni @knowingnothingnoel @mattsgirlfrieeend @bambi-slxt @sturnstvr @sturnclouds @bernardsbendystraws

[violetasteracademic]

My Two Cents on the People Magazine Article (and Elriel coming home!)

I'm sure this has already been dissected to death and I am potentially late to the game here (I only just saw the article this morning!) but I would like to share some thoughts and insight!

While by no means am I saying this to claim I am *the* expert of all experts, I would like to share that my background and previous career was in entertainment. My twenties were spent in Los Angeles, and (some of you other current or previous LA/New Yorker's may identify with this) you really learn how the sausage gets made and exactly how much money, planning, and prep goes into what we are meant to perceive as "natural." I don't mean to take the shine off of it! Just sharing my experiences. I can't share everything because some of my friends were under NDA's at the time of their employment, so I'll just give a brief overview.

Example: Late Night talk shows and many other major "live" productions that have "live" interviews are, well, not actually live. They typically film in the early afternoon even if they are set designed to look like its nighttime. And while it is in front of a "live" audience, the audience is instructed on when to clap, when to laugh, ect. This is because the interview has already been planned out, and questions approved ahead of time. This is why, even though it seems totally fresh, there are things the "host" received ahead of time. For example, all of the baby pictures and sweet photos of Sarah and Josh and then all of the staged "walking and talking photos" for the MASSIVE Today Show interview and article. And yes, this is the article where we got this absolute banger:

That "felt" like a live interview followed up with a giant article to accompany it, but was actually a full on pre-planned production. Seriously massive for Sarah. And if there's time, you can even do multiple takes and use the best shot for the "live" show. I've seen people comment on thinking Sarah seemed "not excited" in that interview and she was worried HoFaS would bomb, but I'm telling you guys, I don't think she has ever that much pressure or "lights, camera, action" on her before compared to her usual casual "chat" style interviews. Babes was nervous, and she crushed it.

Now to breakdown the new People Magazine article:

This article is being presented as "Everything You Need to Know" aka "we are your trusted resource on all things Sarah J. Mass."

People Magazine, while serving as your "trusted resource" for the world of ACOTAR, would not say the protagonists of ACOTAR are the sisters for zero reason whatsoever. What's interesting is both Lucien and Azriel get small nods, but very little otherwise and zero mention of the ship. Just Elain, baybee dolls. This further cements that this designed to portray the Archeron sisters as the leads of the series.

Now, taking a look at the author of this article to see if she specializes in anything, she really doesn't. Miss ma'am writes about everything under the sun!

She also did the Ultimate Guide to Emily Henry's books. (Major Emily Henry Stan over here. Who is dying for Funny Story to come out?!)

This is a Northwestern University journalism grad who has been with People for a few years. She certainly understands what it is that needs to come from these articles, and that is interest, clicks, money, and trust.

There is simply no reason for major networks like Today and People to invest in these thorough and in depth articles and interviews, on screen and on page, with Sarah and continue to hint towards Elain or questioning the mating bond if it will serve no purpose in improving their reputation or generating interest in the plot of the books. That is simply not how this works, and is antithetical to keeping the gears of these machines well oiled and functioning as intended.

If you read this whole thing, wow! You are an MVP. With nothing but respect to you all, I'm not sure how long I will keep this post up or how much I am willing to talk about my time in LA. I unfortunately had some experiences I am still recovering from and already feel a bit anxious putting this much information about myself out there. But for those who catch it, I hope you enjoy and can feel comforted that this is all a part of the plan. There's a reason you see repeats of themes and conversations in all her articles. It's because they are pre-planned and executed with the goal of reputation and selling books in mind.

*** Thanks to Sara Anne (@SaraAnneReads on Tiktok) who shared her insight from working on the marketing team for a magazine in 2019 that adverts have to share if an article is paid for in someway, no matter how small. Thus I have removed my statement on *this* article potentially being part of their paid marketing budget, as there is no indicator of that on the article itself which is required by law.

However, this could be what is called "Earned Media" where a marketing/publicity rep for SJM and/or Bloomsbury *could* have reached out to people magazine and basically said hey, if you want to write about this, we have an announcement coming up soon so it could be relevant and worth talking about. To which the rep for People would say to the rep for SJM, hey, thank you so much for the heads up. There is no exchange of goods or currency and no promise verbally or in writing to do the article so the ethics stay above board, but all parties benefit from earned media. Sarah's team has now earned additional buzz for the upcoming story, and a news outlet has articles out on a trending topic. However, earned media does not have to be disclosed and therefore we have NO way of knowing if this occurred here or not!

She also shared with me People's statement of integrity where People state's their high standard for ethical practices and journalistic credibility and accountability. (I mean we know they are the kings and queens of "a reliable source close to the individual," but still)

She also caught with her eagle eye that Bloomsbury explicitly states the detailed marketing plan once books are announced, including details like year-long social media campaign, arc readers, ECT. So with Sarah already posting about the next ACOTAR, we can safely assert that is part of the existing laid out marketing plan, and assume additional articles surrounding ACOTAR are all to further generate buzz.

Analysis: Elain's book announcement is coming SOON and marketing is already underway!

[tragedybunny]

Absolution

༺Summary༻

Astarion and Serafina have an argument and Astarion does what he thinks is necessary to keep her with him. Set before his Act 2 confession.

༺Pairing༻ Astarion x Serafina (Female Tav/OC)

༺Warnings༻ PiV sex, oral sex, all occurring while Astarion disassociates.

༺Word Count༻ 2441

༺A/N༻ Although most of my reader fics are based my Tav, Serafina, and my experience playing the game as her, this is the first fic I've written featuring her as a named character. And it's my first BG3 fic in 3rd person. I hope you all enjoy it. Thanks to @satanicspinosaurus for the wonderful beta.

The scene from earlier plays over and over in his mind. 

“You don't know anything about me, Astarion! So just leave it be.” Sera, sweet, kind, gentle, patient Serafina, had yelled at him. Not once since they'd met on that beach had their erstwhile leader even raised her voice slightly at him. And today she shouted at him. All because she couldn't read Elvish and he'd reacted with the same humor she’d claimed to enjoy. Turning it on him as though he’d been the one in the wrong. 

They'd been seated around the fire while Wyll took his turn “cooking”, going through some papers and books they'd found in the wake of a goblin attack. They were looking for any clues into the cult's movements or plans. Sera had plucked a small, neatly bound journal from the pile and turned it over in her hands. It was a thing clearly well-made and cared for. She'd opened it gently, respectful of the fine binding holding it all together. 

Her brilliant blue eyes had scanned a few pages before she gave out a frustrated sigh. “Elvish,” she muttered, snapping it shut violently and thrusting it at Astarion. “You'll probably have better luck with that.”

He wasn't sure why he did it. The half-elf’s reaction was disproportionate to simply encountering a foreign language, that was obvious. Maybe it was because he’d become too used to teasing her since they’d started their “relationship.” Their easy back and forth banter giving him the foreign feeling of acceptance. 

 Or maybe it was his own way of trying to deny those irritatingly tender feelings that had started to creep in whenever he caught her glancing his way or their hands touched, or she laughed at one of his jokes. The need to push back against them, sharpening his tongue and drawing out ancient bias. 

Whatever caused it, he should’ve thought before opening his mouth. “Can’t read Espruar? Someone got forgotten by one parent. Is that why you threw a tantrum and ran-”

“Shut up!” Sera leapt up from the log she’d been seated on and glared at him. “You don’t know anything about me, Astarion! So just leave it be.” 

With that, she’d stormed off and left him silently stunned, as though awaiting a reprisal that didn’t come. Around him, their companions pretended to look away and he caught a few whispers on the air. “What are you all looking at? It’s not my fault she suddenly can’t take a joke.” He’d sulked off to his own tent, waiting until her tantrum had passed and everyone forgot his misstep. He’d assumed Sera would cool down and come out for dinner, but instead she’d remained stubbornly locked away. Karlach had brought her a bowl of what they were generously calling stew. 

Everyone had eaten and retired for the evening and she was still pouting. Which brought him to now, slinking his way across camp toward her tent. He had to do something, he couldn't watch his hard won protection slip away. It absolutely had nothing to do with the fact that Sera gave him a little kiss and wished him goodnight every other night lately and it had been noticeably withheld tonight. 

The way the moonlight filtered through the trees, one solid beam pointing down on her tent, a poet might say that Selune was guiding him. Poets were idiots. Parting the flap just the smallest amount, he starts to slip inside, intent on waking her to settle things if he needed to, when a sound stopped him. A strangled cry, was it directed at him? He froze, half inside, the errant moonbeam that slipped around him haloing her with soft illumination. 

Another wordless cry. Only a nightmare, nothing to be concerned with. Stepping in, he lets the tent shut, plunging them both back into darkness. With a predator’s stealth, he approaches her bedroll, kneeling down, eyes subconsciously glancing at the healing puncture wounds on her neck. 

“Let me out.” Her sudden words startle him. 

Stumbling backwards, he nearly loses his balance to go sprawling across the floor. His skin suddenly heated, as though the breath that carried those words could burn him. 

Another sob comes as she thrashes around a bit. “Please, I won't run,” unintelligible sounds follow the small plea. “Let me out.” 

Locked up. She'd been locked up too. Regaining himself, he crept toward her again, as she shook and cried. Someone had hurt her. But who would want to do that?

She was Sera, unfailingly kind; who aided refugees, saved children, fought monsters, and foolishly fed manipulative vampires.  

The sobbing becomes frantic and without thinking he reaches out to gently grasp her shoulder. “Sera,” she struggles against his touch with a whimper. Growling in frustration, he shakes her a little more roughly. “Serafina!” 

Eyes snap open to behold him with wide pupils as her chest heaves. “A-Astarion?” Sitting quickly, she pulls away from him, and he feels a sudden sting in his chest. “What are you doing here?” She hisses, apparently still angry with him. 

“You were having a nightmare.” He replies, trying to soften his voice, to be the lover she had come to expect. 

“Hmm,” her eyes focus across the tent to an empty lantern, “fiat lux.” Small little motes of light appear in the lantern, swirling gently in their prison, as Sera draws her knees up to her chest. “Well, I'm awake now, you can go.”

The forlorn gaze and empty voice were nothing like the Serafina he'd come to know and the unsettled sensation in the back of his mind grows. He cleares his throat, trying to get the words moving. “I didn’t come just to wake you up, I wanted to…apologize. For earlier. I’m sorry, the joke was in poor taste.” 

Turning her head, she glances his way from where it rested on her knees. She looks so small like this, so far from the fierce woman who’d led them from the moment of the crash. “Apology accepted, I probably took it too personally.” 

It didn’t quite ring true, but he plows on anyway, hoping maybe those blue eyes would light back up for him. “The truth is, I’m actually a bit rusty with Espruar myself. But maybe I could teach you and it would be good practice for me.” He affects the warmest smile he could, sure the gesture would win her over.

Instead, she shrugs. “Don’t worry about it. It doesn’t actually matter all that much. Thanks for the thought though. You can go, I’m not still mad at you. I’ll see you in the morning.”

That was not his Serafina. He has to do something, to fix this. To keep her on his side. Reaching out, he wraps his arms around her and pulls her into his lap, lips closing over hers. “What’s this about?” She huffs as her skin began to flush a pretty pink. 

“Pleading my apology some more,” his voice drops to the low sultry tone that made her pulse jump in a way he could hear. 

“I said you were forgiven.” Despite her protest, her arms encircle his neck, pulling him closer. 

“Your words said that, but your eyes spoke differently.” His lips trace a line of kisses from her lips to the lobe of her ear, making her sigh. 

This was what he could do for her, what he did best. It was a skill honed by two hundred years of unwilling practice, and like so many before, a skill she was willing to make use of. At least it was easy enough with Sera, she was sweet and gentle, and he knew she'd never harm him. And it wasn't as though a part of him didn't want her, she was a pretty little thing. That part was just bound up with all the other parts that hated what his body had been used for. If he had to open his pants for anyone, he supposes he was glad it was her. 

“I meant it, but- gods Astarion!” He runs his tongue along the point of her ear, less sensitive than his, but still enough to start driving her mad. 

“In that case, we'll call it making up for my behavior earlier.” Guiding her to face him, legs straddling his, her warm core settles against his hips. He kisses his way back down to her throat, already feeling his mind growing distant from his actions. 

Lips linger near the marks on her neck, and she squirms in his lap. “Do you want to?” 

He could never say no to that offer. Without hesitation, his fangs sink into her flesh, and succulent liquid pours into his throat. It adds to what little pleasure he’s able to wring from what he was about to do. Sera whimpers and writhes in his lap, grinding down on his growing erection. She hadn’t started out allowing him to feed on her as some form of pleasure, but she had given him her neck as often as the rest of her body, and the two had become inextricably tied together. 

Just a sip for tonight, after everything that had happened, he couldn’t ask too much. Too soon he pulls his fangs away to lap at the remainders and kiss the wounds. Blood and a distant mind, this was good as it would be for him. “Let's get this out of the way.” Fingers grip the hem of her shirt and guide it over her head. 

She shivers as the night air caresses her skin and leans into him. It was almost enough to make him laugh, there was nothing about him that could provide any warmth. Instead he continues kissing his way down her chest, nipping lightly until her back arches into him and she makes a needy noise. 

“Patience,” he chides her, releasing his grip on her to remove his own shirt. 

Hands encircle her waist in an iron grip, holding her firmly in place while tongue and teeth tease her rosebud nipples. Fingers trace his back as she pants, trying to contain all the noises that could wake the camp. Her nails ghost along his flesh, and he senses she longs to dig them in.. She hadn’t even attempted to ask about it. Why did she afford him such gentleness, was she wary that it would be too much on his scarred flesh?

Lips leave off her hardened peaks to capture hers again, and she grinds against him even harder. No doubt her small clothes were soaked. “You drive me mad,” she whispers, lost in desire. 

Just as he’d wanted, Serafina, hurt feelings and nightmares forgotten. “You enjoy it.” He captured her lip between his teeth for a second and nibbles. “Stand up, take your pants off for me.” He awaits her on his knees, as a penitent seeking their absolution. 

She’s so occupied, she doesn’t notice as his gaze finds the dancing lights in the lantern, and watches them swirl aimlessly until she’s naked before him. Gripping her thighs, he pulls her in, holding them apart so his tongue can swipe along her sex, as soaked as he predicted. Sera’s not a bard, but she sings for him anyway. Fingers grip into his curls, not too tightly. Sometimes he wishes she wouldn’t be so damn gentle, that she'd be like everyone else, someone easy to use, instead of, whatever all this was. 

“Astarion,” she keens as he slips two fingers inside her, tongue running over her clit. 

He laps and suckles at it almost as fiercely as he does the wounds he leaves in her neck. The fingers inside her find the spot that causes her knees to buckle and another cry to leave her. She’s close, just a little more, and he could leave it for the night.  

“I want you inside me.” He stiffens, inhaling deeply. 

“Do you now, my sweet?” He nips her thigh playfully with his fangs while his stomach drops. “Then come down here.” 

As soon she hits her knees, he's positioning her on all fours, he can’t look her in the eyes right now. He tears his pants open, eyes finding the lights again, concentrating on them as he pushes inside her. She’s warm and wet as she pushes back against him, eager to have all of him. Because she chooses him. No matter how many of his rough edges and dark corners she finds, she wants him. Would she still want him if she saw it all?

Forget it, he tells himself, pushing that thought away. He clears his mind until there’s only the moment, the sensation left, hips slapping against hers, the way her body clenches around his cock, how she eagerly sucks the fingers he puts in her mouth so she has something to absorb the moans. 

It’s almost enough to completely lose himself, his cock twitches. It’s spectacular, the way she meets every thrust and takes everything he has to give. “Touch yourself,” he urges, eager for her to come undone. 

Her own fingers slide between her folds, working feverishly. It’s not long before the noises muffled by his fingers become frantic and she tightens around him. 

“That’s it, my darling, let go.” With another deep thrust, he allows himself a release. “Sera,” he gasps, knowing it will please her to hear her name on his lips. 

They collapse next to one another on the bedroll, Sera quick to snuggle up in his arms. It takes longer than it should to embrace her, his body wanting to run. “Is everything alright?” She asks, innocently, from where she lays, head on his chest. Maybe there are merciful gods, she can’t see his face. 

“Of course, love. I think I may have worn myself out after all the walking today.” Softly, he kisses her head, he can’t let her suspect. 

“Well don’t complain tomorrow, Lae’zel will blame me for sure. I don’t think I was very discreet.” She laughs, sounding like sleep is already returning to her. 

“But you are to blame. If you weren’t so irresistible.” He tries to laugh as well. This stupid, sweet girl, why does she lay in a monster’s arms and giggle? 

With a yawn, she gives him an out. “You should probably go, I’m going to fall asleep soon and don’t want to trap you here.” 

One more kiss, even as his mind insists on fleeing. “Goodnight my love, rest well, and I’m sorry again.”

“For what?”

“For earlier.” For everything. 

Tag list:

@micropoe10  @writingmysanity @mxxny-lupin @azu21

 @tallymonster  @dependsonthedream @sunfire-ancunin

@bambamwolf87 @fayeriess @lumienyx @lisrelly

@elora-the-slutty-songstress @bhaalbaaby @spacebarbarianweird

@darlingxdragon @wanderingisobel @astarionsbeloved

@vixstarria @claryvoyantfray @volotramp @misscrissfemmefatale @bg3obsessedsideblog @captainaceofspades @wickedwitchofthewilds @asterordinary

[tuliptired]

hi! could you write anymore little looks at a humanities ta!reader x egon in college?

Do Wah Diddy Diddy

Pairing: Egon Spengler/Gn!Ta!Reader

Warnings: Reader is drunk for most of it

The egon/reader tag is so barren ;( Why nobody else dressed like a slut tonight?

INSANELY better formatting on Ao3!

 Egon left his lab, surprisingly, stressed. His major didn´t often stretch him too thin, he knew what he was doing and how to do it best, but it was just that time of year. Lots of work, and not a lot of time to do it. He always managed, with lots of coffee and little sleep, it was just a fact of academia.

The outside world reflected the inside ecosystem of his fellow students, buzzing with life and blazingly hot. Plagued by the heated air trying to cling to the classroom, you cracked a few windows open as you taught in place of the absent professor. This wasn't out of the ordinary- the man trusted you enough to run a class, and you ran it like a natural, admittedly. But today was a little strained, your daily seminar not getting to the level of intensity it usually did. Egon would’ve made a comment on it as he got the last word in, but he decided against it. While you were a TA, there was more emphasis on the “A” in times like these, evident in how you scoured through notes for other classes when you had a spare minute.

They worked independently, before you lifted your head out of a notebook, one of many fans blowing some of your hair off of your forehead. You glanced at the clock, before quickly setting up a projector and unboxing a handful of identical, thick books.

“Big assignment,” you started, a few complaints sounding from the students, “it wasn’t even me this time, blame Mr. Coulms.” 

He left the lecture room in a worse mood than he entered it, the thick tome under his arm. A play. He was a great reader- he could read each edition of Tobin's Spirit guide cover to cover in an hour if he was looking to cite something. Scientific journals were light entertainment to him. But plays? You actually had to dissect a play. To dissect it, you had to read it- well. 

He leaned against a bookcase, in the not-leaning-but-leaning way that he does, so as not to disturb the books. He would be searching for something like Ray was, crouched on the ground and investigating the bottom shelf, but he wasn’t in the mood, glaring at the text he was given before placing it on an empty shelf beside him. 

They were tucked away in the basement of the Public Library- it was one of the few places that they could ask for books about harnessing pure protonic energy and campfire stories of the 30’s without being looked at weird. Peter messed with the straps of his bag, ready to go and saying so for the 3rd time.

“In a minute, Peter.” Ray placed a few books next to him, searching for the right one that happened to be inconveniently smaller than the one’s surrounding it. He looked up at Egon sympathetically. 

“I’m sorry, Spengs. But I did this one in high school, and it was a lot of fun!” His optimism was cut short as the rest of the books along the wood fall towards the middle like dominos. 

“It won’t be hard, Egon. Do the voices.’ Peter procured a rubix cube from his bag. Egon seriously didn’t know why he carried it around, as it was never once solved.

Ray fumbled with the books as he tried to Dewey-Decimal their placements in his head. “I’ll help. Just, uh…” He looked around at the mess he made. “Can you look around for ‘Ghastly Apparitions of the Appalachian’? We’re gonna need it, too.” Egon only nodded, eager to clear his head a bit. He remembered the author well enough, weaving through aisles to find the proper section. 

He didn’t make it far, there was a reshelving cart in his way, his feet coming to a halt. As he looked up from the roller, you were standing there, hands on your hips. 

“Doesn’t look like you’re studying very hard.”

He sighed a puff of air out his nose, as you peered over his shoulder. You saw two men on the ground, grabbing handfuls of discarded books. “And your friends are messing up my hard work.”

He glanced back at the men, then back at you. “Is there anywhere you don’t work?” He didn’t intend to be in a confrontational mood this afternoon, but a bad class will do that to you.

You pointed to a pin on your chest, which read your name in small print under ‘BOOKKEEPER’.

 “Nope. How many people do you know have a gold plated name tag?”

“Waste collectors and prison guards.”

“Did you need a book? Because you’re in the library?”

He had his hands resting on the handle of the cart, not noticing until you dragged it to the side, taking away the partition between you. “Ghastly Apparitions of the Appalachian by Gregory Lederer.” He expected you to not know what he was talking about, and stand there dumbfounded. But you pushed past him, making your way to the “L” aisle of the General Knowledge section.

Your eyes scanned the spines of various options. “I don’t remember this play taking place in Appalachia,” you moved on to the next row. He followed you like a dog, unsure of what to do while you helped him.

“It’s personal. Scientific.” 

“The title’s a little oxymoronic, then, no?” You finally found it, examining the covers quizzically.

As he reached out for the book, you pulled your hand back. Egon wanted to be annoyed, but it wasn’t in him.

“Actually read the play. Do the voices.” Your own voice had the tone of someone trying to reason with a child. He reached his hand out, again, and you placed the book into his palm, conceding. 

Though you had a modest smile, Egon couldn’t help notice your tired look, under eyes darkening despite your efforts otherwise. He could understand, this was a hard time for everyone, no matter their field. Before he could show you his commiseration, against his better judgment, you let the book go limp in his grasp, passing by him with a small “see you, Mr. Spengler”.

Peter appeared in his line of sight amongst the maze of shelves, as Egon stood dumbly. A voice told him to “clean up my basement” as he passed by.

“It appears we’re not wanted here. Let’s go, Egon.”

When it was officially late, you sat in your dorm, finally having time to sit and work. You had to skip a proper lunch, mindlessly putting a baby carrot in your mouth every 10 minutes as you snuck a binder under your desk at the Public Library. By the time you were on your bed, feverishly taking notes, checking notes, and reading notes, you were barely halfway done with your studying itinerary. This week was sufficiently kicking your butt, to say the least.

The door opened and shut, revealing your roommate, Christine, setting her bag down on the chair nearby. You barely verbally acknowledged her, looking for a specific page in your textbook. She gave you a once over, before making her way to the fridge, but unable to stop taking you in. 

“Did you hear what I said?” Christine asked you, skeptical.

“Don’t think so-” Page 392.

She poured herself a glass of something, eyeing you as she did. “I said, you need to relax a bit.”

That was easy for her to say. As much as you appreciated her and her companionship, all Christine did was relax. Still, your flow was disturbed, and you reluctantly put your materials down.

She continued now that she had your attention. “You don’t hang out anymore. It’s Friday.” She crosses to stand in front of your spot on the bed, effectively tapping you in the conversation.

“There’s some guys in my advertising class throwing-” You can tell what’s coming next, and you shimmy past her as she exclaims in protest.  

“Come on,” she follows you around, nearly pleading with you. You sighed, stopping as she leaned up behind you. It wasn’t that you didn’t like fun, or being with friends- parties just stopped being your scene a few semesters ago. How’s that for maturity?

“I’m telling you like I’ve told you a million times before. That’s just not my domain.” Christine spun you around, intent on not giving up until you caved.

“You guys always get drunk, then you get pissed, then I’m dragging you home and helping you puke it all up.” She rolled her eyes.

“We’ll only have a little- and,” she pointed an accusatory finger to your chest, “to be fair, you wouldn’t have to do all that if you drank a little yourself.”

You pointed the same finger back at her. “So we can all puke together? What a fun night.”

Christine made the sign of the cross then, pointed her fingers to the sky virtuously. “I swear on my life; we’ll know when to stop.” When she opened her eyes, you still weren’t convinced.

“Pleeeease? If it’s lame, we’ll leave and rent a video and get a pizza. But you might have fun.” She looked at you with those big blue eyes, and it took all of your strength to resist. She pleaded with you again, until you finally broke, covering your ears.

You groaned dramatically. “Alright, fine, fine. I’ll go to your stupid frat party and get smashed on cheap beer.” Christine cheered, making her way over to the phone. 

“I’ll call Dean and Lisa and-” you flopped back onto your bed. Staring at your long forgotten work, you wondered if this was the right choice. 

Egon read the line, waiting patiently for Ray to respond from the copy he borrowed himself, as the man read for all other 11 characters of the play. It was about two rulers from warring countries forced to live together in a dungeon, but he just couldn’t grasp what was so special about that. It was late into the night, the dorm only illuminated by a few lamps and the little bit of light pouring in from under the door. After hours of trying to evade it, both men had only made a small dent in the long drama.

Ray pushed his reading glasses up. “You need more conviction, Egon, I don’t feel like your wife right now.” Egon closed his copy, putting his forehead in his hand against his desk.

“I don’t think this is working.”

“Are you doing improv? ‘Of course it’s not working, you-”

“No, Raymond. This book isn’t working.” Egon slid it away from him, the bright red cover hurting his eyes, and his pride.

Ray looked sad for his friend, taking off his glasses. “The only way to do it is to read. I’m sorry.” He tossed his book onto his bed. “But we can take a break. Whaddya wanna do?”

Egon remembered it was Friday, the day most young adults would use to unwind. He reached into the drawer beneath him, emerging with a miniature Tesla coil Ray had fashioned.

“You read my mind, Spenges!”

The two men were engrossed with messing around with it, placing numerous objects on and around the transformer- granted that any other flammable or conducive thing they owned was moved out of the way. As Ray teased the sparks with a pencil, he suddenly recalled something, eyes flashing and wide as he dropped the writing utensil.

“Peter has my car!” He grabbed each side of his head, almost comically as he could picture it- a nice, clean Camaro being trashed by beer and bodily fluids.

Ray was just short of spiraling, stuck on either racing down to the party himself or bawling in the spinny chair. “I’d go there myself- and strangle the life out of him,” he nearly wept, covering his eyes.

Egon let his eyes shut, before willinging himself to his feet. He’d never, ever associate with any sort of party, let alone one at a fraternity. But Ray loved that car, his dad’s graduation gift to him that’s been his pride and joy since freshman year. His friend barely even drove it around, afraid to raise the mileage too much. He didn’t doubt Ray’s conviction, or ability, to show it to Peter for going against his wishes, but the engineer was in hot water with the hosting students. One complicated party trick gone wrong, and the front lawn was ablaze quicker than he could control the little ball of plasma. It was their sophomore year, but he still wasn’t welcome near the block of brownstones he managed to devalue.

“Thank you, Egon, I promise I’ll repay you,” Ray’s eyes were glossy with tears as he pressed his face impossibly close to the glass of the window, trying to spot his baby driving somewhere down the street.

Time lessened the heat, Egon thought to himself. It was dark, but not a long walk off campus and a block or two away from the party. It wasn’t hard to find it, either- the music was loud and the bacchanal activities spilled out onto the street and into neighboring yards. No sign of the car. He wrinkled his nose. In the last stretch of freshman year, Peter tried convincing him and Ray to join a fraternity, rattling off a laundry list of reasons that it’d be a thrilling experience for the trio. He was obviously unsuccessful, and dropped the idea when he realized that it’d be hard to make friends in the already tight knit community. 

Egon didn’t dare touch the doorknob, evading people lounging on the stoop as he entered the large house after someone, using his foot to keep the door open. It smelt strongly of booze in the hot, dimly lit apartment, music still blaring from an unknown source. Not to mention the hazy smoke that was billowing through the air, hard to avoid with his height, much like the sounds of two people making out behind the couch. Infection central. How were all these people still going this late? He had to step over the passed out body of some guy without a shirt to get to the kitchen. 

As he stepped from the carpeted area to the tiled floor, arms quickly wrapped around his middle. His head snapped down, and there you were, head buried in his chest.

“Hi, Egon,” you smiled sweetly up at him, eyes glazed over and voice syrupy, not as precise as you made sure it was. He blinked a few times, noticing not only your shoes standing on his, but the fact you called him by his first name.

“Hi.” He reveled in the confusion, before pulling you away from him, gently. “Have you seen Peter? Peter Venkman?”

You thought about it, before the memory flashed back into your recollection. “Dr. Love? He left with my friend Christine.” Your voice slurred the words “left” and “with”, the same way Ray did when he was so smashed he couldn’t stand. Junior year was a sight to behold. 

He remembered how he handled drunken Ray, noting how warm your shoulders were under his fingers. “You’ve been drinking?” He asked despite himself. Being a gentleman was above personal vendetta. It was odd, seeing you dressed like this, out of the professional attire you took pride in every day. Your ability to pick clothes with an anal retentiveness rivals even him- the only college student in a pressed dress shirt, a sweater vest, and slacks. 

“Like, one or five. Itsfine, I’mfine,” you waved your hands around dismissively, before placing them over Egon’s. “I didn’t know you could party, Egie.” He ignored the heat that stung the muscles in his cheeks.

“I don’t.” He went along with it as you started swaying the two of you back and forth lightly. “Did you come with any other friends?”

You went silent, thinking again. It was evidently hard to think and sway, and you eventually fell back into him, unable to keep your balance. “DeanandLisa went to get…food. And they told me to stay here. So I took’a nap.” You nodded to yourself.

“When?”

You couldn’t answer. He peeked sideways at the clock- 3:19. Wherever your friends went, they weren’t going to be back for a long time. 

Your arms were still around him, head back on his chest as his hands hovered over you, awkwardly. It was barely audible, but you were mumbling along to the song playing throughout the rest of the house. He should’ve felt a smug pride, watching you who were once so confident drool on yourself, stumble over your words, and paw at him, but he couldn’t. Egon felt a lash of guilt at the idea of leaving you behind, telling Ray that Peter was long gone, and going to bed. You were obviously inebriated- with no friends and too juiced to know not to sleep on the floor, he couldn’t just let you stay in this dump. 

That’s how he ended up herding you out the door, but not before you stumbled about the apartment, saying good night to everyone. He was on your heels as you banged on a socked-bedroom door, bidding whoever was on the other side farewell, but he wasn’t quick enough before you were shouting your goodbyes down the stairwell of the basement. For being wasted, you were surprisingly fast. He finally got you outside, the skin under his fingers actually cooling as you left the cramped party.

“I didn’t take you to be a party-person,” he confessed, hand on the small of your back to stop you from running across the street to greet the cat staring you down.

“I’m- wait,” you did in fact run, having to kick off your shoes for efficiency before bending down rather ungracefully to pet the feline like a child would, fingers splayed and pushing its ears back unintentionally. He watched on as you skipped back to the sidewalk, grabbing a street sign for stability when you reached him.

“I’m not,” you resumed as he steered you on. “But- it was Christine! She showed me her’fake eyelash…es and convinced me!” You looked to him to share your disbelief as you told the story, shoes waving around as you moved your hands. “I’couldn’t say no!”

Egon found himself smiling. “I have a roommate very similar.” You were surprisingly easier to talk to when drunk. He wasn’t burning up, or scrambling for his words like he normally did when you teased him, making the scientist detest you more and more for your ability to confuse him. His thoughts ceased, as you got closer to campus, but walking with increasing difficulty.

It was when he had to catch you before tripping over yourself that he swallowed his inhibitions, wrapping a hand under you. He wasn’t the strongest out there, maybe even a little weak, but he could support your weight until you reached home. As you let out a small noise of surprise though, he felt a primitive sense of manliness, your figure pressed to his in a bridal carry.

“Soooo strong.” You praised him, voice trailing off as you let your head hit his shoulder. He had to remind himself that you were drunk, none of this really meant anything. You’d wake up, and decide to torment him after taking an aspirin. His grip weakened as his smile did.

“Don’t drop’me,” your hands clawed at the fabric of his shirt, and he adjusted his hold.

“I won’t,” he watched you close your eyes, face content. “I won’t.”

 You were halfway back to the dormitory. He could feel you stirring, looking down and finding your eyes fixed on the night sky. 

“What’s up there?”

“Ursa Major.” You pointed lazily.

“That’s a plane.”

You stiffened in his arms. “No, it’s’not. I know this. It’s the bear.” You managed to cross your arms over yourself while in his hold. He felt bad, provoking you while inebriated. 

“Then it’s the bear.”

“Put me down,” you hit him on the chest a few times, willing him to reluctantly place you on your own two feet. You shook off his attempts at still holding you, intent on trying to make it home on your own. You stormed off along the path, nearly veering off into the grass.

“Where are you going?” He couldn’t hide the concern behind his voice, trying to keep up with you as you took on a sudden irritation towards him.

“Home.” You kept your pace, before slowing, battling something in behind your eyes in your drunken state. “You think I’m dumb.” Egon stopped in his tracks in a moment, before walking behind you again.

“That’s not true,” he said simply, throwing away his feud with you when sober. He thought of you as one of the smartest people he knew. And you managed to make him look like a mere child while baring your smile at him.

“Maybe I’like being drunk,” you retorted to no one in front of you. As you slowed, so did Egon, watching on as you looked on down the dim, street lamp lit path. When he followed your gaze, he saw nothing but the darkness of night ahead of him. Suddenly, you fell forward, uncaring and weightless. He wasn’t quick enough to catch you, heart dropping to his toes before you simply rolled over onto your back. Your knees were scraped, rapidly drying blood mixing with the gravel and dust of the ground over your lacerated skin. Before he could worry too much about it, you merely laughed, full of glee as your eyes were transfixed on the stars, arms out like you were a star yourself. 

You passed out pretty quick after that, a little heavier in his arms. To say Egon was uneasy was an understatement, but at least you were out for a bit. He struggled to get the door to the building open, and even more so getting up to your dormitory floor, only narrowly avoiding hitting your head against a door frame every so often. Taking a quick look at the plates on each door, he was relieved at finding your surname printed on one. After a few discreet knocks, however, no one opened up, either passed out themselves or simply not home. Searching for solutions, he sighed, again, gently laying you against the baseboards. It wasn’t his most elegant idea, but it’d have to do as he reached in his pocket for a pad and paper. He simply scribbled the words “Passed out, sleeping in 244. Please pick up when you get home.” Pressing it in the space between the room number and the wood, he picked you up for the third time and made the trek back to his own place.

You looked peaceful, as Egon decided on putting you in Ray’s bed, alcohol and cotton pads ready. Ray wasn’t home himself- and it’d be unbecoming of him to put you in his own. He hummed to himself, your current state reminding him of the deuteragonist in the play you gave him. They were affluent and sybaritic, imprisoned while drunk and jovial, to the aggravation of the protagonist, tied to tradition and analytical. He hoped that whoever you were in chains with took the liberty of cleaning your open wounds like he did. 

Apparently, the sting of disinfectant is enough to rouse the unconscious awake, as the liquid being pressed to your skin made you jolt back to the present, sucking in air between your teeth and nearly kneeing him in the nose. You rushed to sit up as properly as you could, bringing your legs to your chest.

“What’re you doing?” The pain must’ve been worse in this state. He suddenly felt very, very bad about not waiting until you were awake to take care of it, but he remembered that you couldn’t make proper decisions for yourself like this. He wet another pad, though warily. Who was Egon to say that he could make proper decisions for you, sober or otherwise?

He approached you gently, showing you his materials. “Sanitizing. It could get infected.” Maybe that was a bit overzealous, but germs love untreated, open flesh.

You calmed, letting your legs dangle over the bedside again, the exaggerated idea of losing a leg scarier than the cleaning agent in his hand. “Oh.” He figured you were sobering up, even by a bit, from the way your words slurred less and you clung Ray’s blanket to yourself, night’s activities catching up with your tired body. You looked around as he worked quickly, taking in the room.

“You’re messy.” Egon raised his eyebrows once at that, prepping another pad.

“We’re scientists. And Peter.” He could hear you laugh weakly above him. It felt nice, to make you feel nice. Egon felt oddly at ease, on his knees, cleaning you up- as dubious as it sounded. He moved on to your other leg, remembering your situation. “Would you like to stay here? Your friends aren’t home.”

Silence as he wiped away the grime. Your voice sounded again. “A sleepover.”

He resisted a yawn, letting it escape through his nose before catching sight of the clock. “Sure.”

You didn’t say anything else. Better for him- he was sure you didn’t have a key and he was a terrible locksmith. You were leaning back on your hands.

“My doctor.”

He bit back the smile and blush that spread over his face with a clench of his jaw. You were still drunk, no matter how coherent. And wrong. “Not yet a doctor.” He was done bandaging both your injuries some time ago.

“Doctor Egon,” you drew out the word, giggling to yourself. He’d let it slide, this time. Misused titles were disdainful in academia. But he supposed being a stickler didn’t matter so much, now.

Eventually, he rose to his feet, eyes honing in to a surface level scratch on your cheek from the fall. He held your jaw lighty, thumb careful to not graze too much over it. It wasn’t severe, but he assumed you’d prefer to not have a deep scar there for the entirety of the summer to come. He thought about summer. He’d be here, on an internship, while you’d be away, probably away with your friends again. You’d get drunk, seemingly trusting the people around you far too much until you’re hurt- worse than you are now. Whatever meathead you’d spent the night with wouldn’t know first aid if it was thrown at him. Egon soaked in his jealousy, eyebrows falling over his eyes, before coming back to his senses, soaking one more piece of cotton and gently tapping it to your face, a small adhesive placed to protect it. 

“Kiss to make it better?” He let go of your face, moving to the kitchen sink to wash his hands as you giggled to yourself again. It was awfully late, now.

“You should get some sleep,” he dried his hands off. He would miss you, but time was the only fool-proof remedy- and daylight was quickly approaching.

“No fun,” you complained, but you still settled into Ray’s bed, pulling the comforter around yourself. He contemplated what to do, get into his own bed or just wait for you to sleep instead. You rolled over to face him.

“Are you sure you don’t want my help with the play? I’m not supposed to, though. But I can do the voices.” Right. The play. He eyed the book, forgotten about in the corner of his desk.

“I’d rather you rest.” 

“You should sleep, too.” He could tell you were fighting your own exhaustion. He pulled out his chair, moving Ray’s coil to the side to make work of his assignment again. 

“I’d rather you did, first.” He opened to the page he left off on.

“Egon.” You sounded scarily sober. He turned in his seat to face you.

You freed yourself from the blanket a bit. “You’re tired. You always look tired.” Another state of inebriation was taking hold of you. Maudlin. You were drunk. It didn’t mean anything.

He chewed at the inner part of his bottom lip before speaking again. “You’re very stressed. And you’re going to wake up feeling like hell.” He searched for the right words to convince you to let yourself go. “I’ll sleep too, and we can talk to each other in our dreams.” A little ridiculous, but it’s not the craziest thing he’s said to a tippler.

The hammered part of you was contemplating it, before you smiled and nodded. Before he went back to his work, you called for him one more time.

“Egon?”

“Yes?”

“I need a lullaby.” You had the same devilish, teasing look in your eye as you did when you were sober. He looked around in confusion as you looked towards him expectantly, before he surrendered, winding up a small snow globe that Peter kept out, even in Spring. As it played, you shook your head.

“No, sing the one by Manfred Mann.” He grabbed the edge of the blanket, pulling it over your head as you laughed uncontrollably to yourself.

“Goodnight.”

Egon had fallen asleep over his book some time later. As he came to, he looked back, hopeful to still see you, sleeping soundly. His hope faltered as he took in the empty space, neither his roommates returned or your spot on Ray’s bed filled in by your shape. There was a strange emptiness in his chest, knowing you were gone in a matter of hours. The only proof of your presence was the used bottle of isopropyl in the corner of his desk.

His breath slowed, light of the early morning burning into his eyes as he slowly rose out of his chair. Walking off, not sure if he was going to shower, or eat, or what, he noticed a small paper on the pillow. He picked it up, wondering if it would disappear in his hands.

“Thank you, Doctor.” He folded it back. You were drunk. It didn’t mean anything. But he still smiled.

[myhaikyuuacademia]

Hey May i have a scenario of OPLA Sanji encouraging a female reader who's introverted and lacks confidence into following their dreams

yes, you may! Here you go~

Dreams | Sanji x reader (OPLA)

[Request] Summary: Sanji encouraging you to follow your dreams A/N: he's such a sweetheart. It's a bit short sorry!

It started when the strawhats declared their dreams. Everyone, one after one declared their big dreams and ambitions, but when it was your turn, you weren’t sure. It felt stupid to say, but you felt compelled to tell them something, anything, to alleviate the feeling of stares and uncomfortable silence. “um. I guess. I guess my dream is to find my dream?” You fumbled with the hem of your shirt and avoided their eyes. Already then you felt the burning of Sanjis eyes on you. “Don’t worry about it darling, we’ll surely figure something out.” He said with his signature drawl. “Yeah!” Luffy chimed in enthusiastically, pumping up his fist. You just nodded slightly, wanting this to be over and done with.

Ever since that day, Sanji has been, well, pestering you. You expected this from Luffy, who was so unbelievably passionate about personal dreams, but in the end it was Sanji who disturbed you every single time without fail while you were trying to read or do some mindless tasks to keep you occupied on the ship. Like right now for instance. Even on the crow’s nest where you’d tried to escape and find peace from him for once, he’d found you, nose buried in your journal. He grinned at you, arms folded over the edge of the reeling and his head atop them. He’d been chipping away at you bit by bit and that smug little bastard knew it. “Hello Darling.” He purred. “Found you.” Ignoring the way your stomach fluttered you put down your book and scrunched up your face. “Hi Sanji…” He just smirked at your less than enthusiastic tone. Effortlessly he got up and swung first one of his legs and then the other to join you inside the small, enclosed space. Slowly you lowered the journal and closed it, leaving it to rest in your lap. “Why you hiding, gorgeous?” Sanji asked after he settled in next to you, legs crossed. It still made you very flustered whenever he called you a pet name, but he did it so often, that you slowly got used to it. And he did it with other girls too, so that made you calm down more as well. It was just a thing he did, you told yourself. “You know why.” He rolled his eyes, grinning. “Aw come on sugar.” You refused to meet his eyes and instead kept them trained on your lap where you were playing with the pen in your hands. “You still have no idea what it is you want in life?” His voice was gentler this time, trying to coax a reply out of you. “No… I kinda do.” You admitted finally. It just seemed so unattainable you didn’t even know why you should bother, so you kept quiet once you figured it out. “Then what’s the problem?” He was being so sweet, it made it hard to resist doing whatever he wanted you to. But you really didn’t want to tell him and have him get your hopes up. “Nothing, just forget about it.” You sat in silence for a few moments, when he reached out to put a finger under your chin, guiding your face towards his, to make you look at him. “Come on, tell me.” He said softly, removing his finger slowly when you didn’t turn to look away again.  “It’s…”  you started, hesitant. “I mean. It’s not like I can accomplish it anyway. So it doesn’t matter, y’know?” Even though you didn’t turn to look away again, your eyes had trouble staying on his as you confessed your lack of confidence to him and they flitted from place to place to avoid eyecontact. “What are you talking about?” He almost seemed offended. “You don’t think you can do it? Darling, you’re extraordinary! Why are you doubting yourself?” Your cheeks burned and you bit your lips in a nervous habit, still avoiding looking directly into his eyes. “no no no, this won’t do. Come on.” Sanji stood up and held out his hand for you. You took it hesitantly and gentleman he was, he helped you stand up. “You, sweetheart, can do anything. Especially something as important as following your dreams. And if you can’t believe in yourself I will believe in you twice as hard.” His hand was still holding yours and he gave it a squeeze. “If you don’t think you can do it alone, I will help you, hell, the whole team will. We have your back.” He was saying it so emphatically, like he believed every single word. “From the bottom of my heart, I truly think you can achieve anything you set your mind to.” It made it hard not to believe him too, even if just a little bit, for now. Feeling yourself get emotional you tried to lighten the situation and rolled your eyes playfully while you pulled your hand out of his. “Man, you’re a really good cheerleader aren’t you.” Mock-annoyance in your voice as you sniffled, trying to get rid of the tears that were almost on their way. “Only for you.” He winked with a grin. “I mean it though.” You knew he did.

He was still by your side every day after that, cheering you on and helping you to believe in yourself.

[snootlestheangel]

Friend and I had lunch and here's some of the stuff we discussed *here's another really long headcanon that spawned from this day*

Price is just a bad driver, he makes his passengers fear for their lives. Ghost is bad because he was simply never taught properly. Soap drives like the girlies: hits a curb and just "oops". Gaz is the best driver, and not just compared to them. He's genuinely a good driver.

Ghost is the standard for the team's mental stability. That's a very low bar.

Gaz has only sisters and uses his privileges as the only son to his advantage.

Gaz is a secret nerd. He has a dice collection, collects cool/rare designs for traditional game cards, once cosplayed as his tiefling bard character during a convention. Pictures of it exist somewhere and were really good.

Soap has a niece that is very into FNAF and so he knows all the things. He also has very strong opinions about the lore and whatnot.

Tommy was a dinosaur kid, Simon was willing to listen to Tommy ramble about dinosaurs. *inspired by me seeing a little dinosaur figurine and, in a gremlin voice, going "dinosaur!"*

Ghost loves to journal. It's part of what helped him with his recovery after losing his family and everything that happened.

An addition to before, Ghost never got true therapy. He just read a lot of self-improvement books and did like mental help guide journals for a couple of years. When approached about how he had to "therapy" himself, he simply states "like I've done my whole life"

Soap actually feels awful when people gift him nice art supplies cause he has a really bad habit of breaking pencils/pens/markers and losing sketchpads/having them be damaged. Part of it is he tends to forget which ones are the expensive ones and will pack whatever he finds.

[arcticwolfpaws]

Gotham's light chap 2

Bruce's P.O.V

As we pulled into the drive way I was disappointed that he hadn’t spoken up or told us anything about his family. With a breath I tried to ask him again.

“Do you know were you live?” It was quiet for a long moment, With a heavy sigh he spoke.

“Normally I stay with Mr Wilson, but he’s away… I don’t like the fake you.” He mumbled, It wasn’t much but it was something.

“Is Mr Wilson your father?” I asked and he shook his head no, as we got read to get out I handed him a pair of son glasses. He’d paused for a long moment before taking the glasses and speaking again.

“Oh… um thanks.” I gave him a softly smile before I lead him inside, As I stepped out behind him I expected a comment on the manor that never came. It dawned on me that he might not be able to see well. I took a breath and decided that I was going to ask, I’d just set up an optometrist appointment. I led him in to the kitchen and was about to speak again when Jason walked in and spoke.

“Oh, Hey.” He chirped as he picked up an apple and took a bite. Before walking up and holding his hand out to him.

“I’m Jason, I don’t think we’ve ever spoken.” Faraj looked hesitant but slowly took his hand and shook it, he looked away and didn’t make eye contact as he spoke softly.

“I’m Faraj.” Jason glanced at me and I gave him a small smile and nodded telling him he was alright to leave, Jason didn’t need anything to be said as he left leaving me to speak to him alone.

“So If you’ll let my I’d like to take some blood and see if I can find your family.” I told him he frowned at me and let out a puff of hair.

“I don’t know my parents, Mr Wilson always took care of me.” My heart sank a little as he said that I couldn’t help but wounder if maybe this Wilson fellow might have been a rich uncle that took him in and if that was the case then even knowing who his parent’s were could help.

“I might be able to find Mr Wilson if I know who your family is.” Keeping my tone gentle he slowly nodded, smiling softly Alfred walked in, as always he was a step a head of me and had the needle I needed. I didn’t have to ask Faraj to lifted his shirt as he already had and I decided that It was best to try and distract him to keep him calm.

“So? How old are you?” I asked wanting to keep him talking,

“Eleven, I’ll be twelve in December.” He told me, I smiled softly. I wasn’t to far off in my estimate of his age, I nodded as I finished before looking to Alfred as I spoke

"Alfred could you show him his room and make sure he's ready for dinner?" I asked him and he nodded. walking up to Faraj and gently placing a hand on the boy's back before guiding him off, I was glad to see that he didn't flinch at someone he didn't know well touching him that at least I hopped meant there was no physical abuse. Jason poked his head in the the kitchen as Alfred walked past with Faraj he waited until the two were out of ear shot.

"I thought you didn't like meta humans." I gave him a soft smile there was no telling who all thought that his albinism was a meta-human trait.

"Not really, at least not so long as they are in my city but he isn't a meta-human, He's just albino. A mutation yes but it’s nothing like the abilitys gained from being meta-human ."I noticed how closely Jason listened when I explained it.

“Is there a book on it I can read?” He asked his blue eyes shining, I nodded.

“More or less, there’s some medical journals in the library. One of them sho-” He ran off before I could finish what I was saying. I smiled to myself, when I found him I really had been worried that he wouldn’t handle the change well, but after only six months he was doing so well.

🦇🦇🦇🦇

That night after dinner I entered the Batcave with the small vile of blood in my hands made my way to the bat computer quickly as I wanted this boy to be able to go home as soon as possible. Placing the vile in the receptacle, before starting the D.N.A analysis, I had to admit it was an after thought when I started a drug test. I opened the latest case file on Mr. freeze, it was less because of anything he had done and more because of how I’d found his lab the last time I had gone to check on him.

I was looking over the video of his lab the lack of his presents, I had Batgirl keeping an eye on the lab for the moment and I’d be checking back in tonight. As I was about to get up and leave the Batcomputer chirped telling me the D.N.A test had finished as I switched to the tab with it I nearly choked, having to sit down again. No, No, No that couldn’t be right I ran it again and went to check his Drug test.

My gut was twisting as I had new questions in my mind. But I forced myself to take a deep breath as read the results finding that he had the same sedative in his system as I’d seen used at Arkham to keep patients calm and more suggestible. That gave me a bad feeling as I looked over it. Why would he need to be kept calm or suggestible?

The results came back again and I found my frown growing I ran it one more time just to be sure before I started comb through security footage from 11 years ago roughly 9 months before Faraj would have been born. The only major event was the spring Gala I’d hosted but that also meant I had all the needed security tapes, I put Talia’s face in and had the bat computer scan the footage, it picked up on her face at the front door before, I was informed of the final results.

Grandmother Grandfather Grandmother Grandfather

Unknown Ra’s Al Ghoul Martha Kane (Wayne) Thomas Wayne

Mother Father

Talia Al ghoul Bruce Wayne

Child

Unknown sample

I took a deep but admittedly shaky breathe, I didn’t know who Mr Wilson was but it didn’t matter any more, there wasn’t a chance in hell I was going to let anyone take my son. Especially not someone who got him mauled and half blinded. I stared up at the screen my fingers inter locked as I looked up at it. I heard Alfred come in but honestly I didn’t know how I’d explain it to him much less Faraj.

“Oh Master bruce yo-” I flinched and spun around when I heard what sounded like a serving tray full of glass drop. I hadn’t been wrong on had fallen,

“Alfred are you-” He cut me off.

“Is that from… Is he? Ours?” His tone was full of disbelief and I felt my mouth dry up, As I nodded before standing up to help him clean up.

“I don’t know how to tell him.” I said softly and Alfred took a deep breath, As he to started to help me pick.

“We’ll think of something. And I’ll ensure he has a room set up.” I nodded at his words and once the largest pieces of glass were set on the try I brought up another concern.

“How do we bring this up to Jason and dick? I don’t think jason will take it badly but Dick already isn’t thrilled with Jason.” I voiced and Alfred set his hand on my shoulder.

“We’ll do our best to keep things smooth.” He stated firmly, I nodded taking a deep breath before letting it out and running a hand through my hair. Right now I needed to figure out how to tell my boys.

I started with dick and as the phone rang and I was starting to think Dick wasn't going to pick up when he suddenly did.

"B? What's up?" He asked sounding winded causing me to worry about him for a moment I had to take a moment to remind myself that I needed to let him take care of himself.

"Hey... I think you might want to come home next weekend." I said I heard his annoyed sigh, and knew he was about to tell me why he didn't need babied.

"I have a son." I stated stopping him before he could start and the line was quiet for a long moment before he spoke again,

"you... you don't mean that Jason kid do you?" He asked and I took a deep breath knowing fully well the questions he was going to ask.

"No, I don't." there was a long pause as I heard him take a deep breath.

"Do I want to know?" He asked and I glanced back at the bat computer and the results still displayed on it. I knew the question was likely rhetorical but...

"No probably not, but to boil it down D.N.A test says he's mine and he's albnitstic and No I have no intentions of making him a robin... he's got enough on his plate without me doing that." I stated firmly and Dick was quiet for a long moment before he spoke again sounding exasperated.

"Have you told him yet?" He asked and I shook my head no before remembering that I was on the phone and that Dick couldn't see me.

"No I haven't even told Jason yet." admitting that had left Dick quiet for a long moment, I was worried how he was going to react but with how calm he'd been I was starting to think this was actually going okay.

"Does Alfred know?" I was pleased that for the moment we were sticking to the easy questions though I was sure harder ones would likely come in person.

"Yes, he was the first to be aware of the... development." it was quiet again. I could hear the wind whooshing past the cell phone's microphone. shoes on gravel then he spoke.

"So... I know you B you aren't just going to leave him on the streets and from the sounds of it you don't really like his mom. So he won’t be going back to her, meaning I should get use to seeing him." he stated

"Right." I stated firmly. "Alright...I uhh I need to go work and all that." He sounded distracted as he spoke leaving me more worried then before I had to remind myself that he was capable of handling himself. With a breath I headed out of the cave and up stairs nearly running in to Jason I spoke softly.

"Whoa there Jay bird we need to talk," He looked up at me worried his smile falling as I realized that I need to explain quickly.

"Faraj's going to be staying with us from now on... he'll be your new brother." He paused for a moment, before grinning.

"So we get to keep the kid who broke someone's nose?" he asked and I nodded slowly after a moment he frowned again.

"I don't have to give up being robin do I?" He asked and I gave him a small smile going to brush his hair way from his eyes before speaking.

"No, I have no intention of bringing him in to crime fighting he's going to run in to enough problems as is, I don't want to add to the presser." I told him and he nodded hard enough I had to wonder how he hadn't made himself dizzy.

"Don't say anything to Faraj just yet... I don't want him to get suspicion" I told him he grinned.

"Alright!" He chirped and headed past me to the cave. I breathed to myself before shaking my head and following him down.

Stay tuned for the next chapter in Faraj's prospective

I want to give proper credit to my bff for the Art of farja so thank you afewbirds

[venus-of-the-hrdsell]

I want to get into Zatanna comics but I’m not sure where to start. What series do you recommend?

Hello! Don't worry, I can give you a short starting guide + some recommendations on this post so you can read without having to dive fully into thousands of issues (unless you want a detailed guide of more appearances).

The usual go to for any beginner is Zatanna (2010) by Paul Dini. It's her longest solo comic (16 issues) and it fits as a stand alone.

If you are interested, I'm currently working in a masterlist reading guide of her appearances. Zatanna is a very old character, so a lot of her appearances are scattered as cameo and team books, so often finding what to read is hard. If you want to get a little further into her character, these options I'm about to mention are good as well. More under the cut because this is a long post.

- Secret Origins (1988) (volume 2) #27

Offers a summary about of Zatanna's origin in the DC universe. A bit old, so the scans can be blurry, but still a nice read.

- Zatanna Special (1987) by Gerry Conway & Gray Morrow

Zatanna gets contacted by the ghost of her mother Sindella, which leads her to travel to secret city of the Homo Magi with her manager. A lot of details about her background are revealed her, it's one of my favourite comics for her.

Zatanna: Come Together (1993) by Lee Mars & Esteban Maroto

Four issue mini in which Zatanna tries to get a fresh new start in San Francisco, temporally retiring from her superhero career. Unfortunately, she doesn't expect to find her stay disrupted by a supernatural threat infesting the city. Still one of my favourite comics of her and the art is amazing too. It also explores her background from her mother's side of the family, which is always good and underrated.

Zatanna: Everyday Magic (2003) by Paul Dini & Rick Mays (one shot)

We see Zatanna in her best moment as a famous stage magician in a long tour. She seems to be doing great, but she still fights to have an ordinary personal life. Things get complicated when her former partner, John Constantine, shows up on her life once again.

This is a fun story! It's Zatanna only Vertigo solo book. There are some poorly aged jokes and the art is not everyone's cup of tea, but it's a fun light hearted read for everyone.

Zatanna: Seven Soldiers (2007) by Grant Morrison & Ryan Sook

Zatanna attends a superhero support group. Her powers are weak and she finds herself in a low spot in her life, but the arrival of a mysterious girl pushes her to go on a tripe to find her father's missing journals.

This mini series is part of a bigger event written by Morrison called Seven Soldiers of Victory, but it can be read as a stand alone. If you want further context, I recommend reading the event, though.

I really like this comic, though. I wish we got to see more of Zatanna's mentorship role.

Black Canary & Zatanna: Bloodspell (2015) by Paul Dini & Joe Quinones.

A fun team up comic! It's an original graphic novel. I love Zee and Dinah's friendship.

Wonder Woman: Agent of Peace (2020) #15

A fun team up issue with Diana and Zee spending quality time together.

Justice League Dark (2011) (New52) & Justice League Dark (2018) (Rebirth)

Now, to clarify. I don't necessarily recommend the Justice League Dark books, but I'm incluiding them since most of Zee post new 52 appearances are in these two books which are...a mixed bag. Justice League Dark (new 52) wasn't of my liking with the exception of the last third of the whole book (Dematteis did a good job, probably the best out of the three writers heading the book). Earlier writers didn't know how to handle Zatanna, her personality is very watered down just as well as her abilities, and she isn't really given spotlight, leadership and full potential of her abilities until Dematteis takes the pen. I also don't enjoy how off was the characterisation of other characters of the book and the overall writing quality and pace, but that's a story for another post.

Justice League Dark (Rebirth) is a step up in quality from New52, but unfortunately it continues with the weird personality shift in Zatanna's personality and the a lackuster character design. As much as I love Diana, who is part of this team line up, I think Zatanna should have been given the leader role and the spotlight. Out of this book, I sincerely enjoyed Ram V's stage on the later half on this run, who deserved to stay longer on this title.

That said, you can take a look on these titles, but you know, at least you know what to expect.

Bonus: Graphic novels, webtoons and stand alone stories

DC's new talent showcase (2018)

Truth and Justice (2020) #7 - 9

Zatannna & the Ripper (Available for Free in Webtoon, still ongoing)

Zatannna & House of Secrets (Kids graphic novel)

Batman: Urban Legends (#11-16)

Johnny Constantine & Mystery of the Meanest Teacher (she's a co protagonist here)

[abeautylives]

Imperfect Moments - Chapter Fourteen - The Final Chapter

a/n: Here it is, the end. I am already so sad that this story is over. Thank you for your patience, and thank you for reading 💕

Series Masterlist

pairing: Jakexfemale!reader

word count: 9.2k this chapter

final summary: It's really just been a series of imperfect moments that led to this.

warnings: 18+ minors stay far away, mentions of sex and sexual situations, language, mention of drinking, mushy fluff, graphic sexual content, unprotected penetrative sex, little bit of cum play, oral sex (m. and f. receiving, lots of it), biting as always, pneumonia sorry

“I really do love it, darling. It’s perfect.”

Josh is doodling on one of the pages of a leather bound journal, adding notation that you can’t read from your seat across the aisle. You wish you could say you’d come across it at some quirky boutique, but you’d known what you wanted and ended up ordering his Christmas present online. It was hand-crafted and you’d had it personalized with his initials stamped into the Napa.

To your left in the window seat, Jake is flipping through the pages of a worn paperback. His gift had been significantly less expensive than Josh’s, and you’d serendipitously come across it at a thrift store. You’d watched a glimmer of recognition pass over his features as he’d torn into the wrapping paper and revealed the title.

Treasure of the Atocha: A Four Hundred Million Dollar Archaeological Adventure

Insecurity had set in as he lifted it to show his family, prompting you to mumble an explanation.

“You know, that one necklace. The, um, silver one you wear sometimes? It’s an Atocha coin- you know that already. The book, it’s about the search for the treasure. From the shipwreck. I saw it and thought of you…”

You’d trailed off as he’d stared at you, your cheeks and chest warm with self-consciousness but it wouldn’t last long. Before you could say anything else, he’d reached out and pulled you in with a hand wrapped around the back of your neck, kissed you so hard you could barely breathe. Unconcerned about his parents and siblings in the room and reluctant to let the moment end, he pressed his forehead to yours.

“Thank you.”

Remembering that morning now, you lean back in your seat and smile to yourself. It really had been pretty perfect, but you’re happy to be headed home.

The new year came and went, celebrated with a relatively tame get-together at the twins’ house, that still managed to end with you and Danny carrying Josh to bed before fighting a bottle of tequila and a Roman candle out of Jake’s hands. Sam remained blissfully unaware and unhelpful, passed out on the living room floor by the time you had Jake leaning heavily into your side as you guided him up the stairs.

Life was busy in the following weeks, but mostly for the guys. With a huge tour looming and new music already being written, you spent a lot less time with them than you’d grown used to, and your time together seemed to move too quickly. Jake never forgot his promise though.

I’m all in.

Jake K: We’re gonna be here late, I can tell

Me: ☹️☹️☹️

Me: It’s ok, I figured you would be

Jake K: I’m sorry love. Can I still come over after?

Me: I HAVE to get some sleep, work in the morning

Jake K: You can go to bed, I’ll be quiet. I just wanna sleep next to you

You’d given him a key. It had worked out in his favor so far, and it was almost worth going to bed alone to wake up next to him in the morning.

“Mm, just call out… fuck, keep doing that.”

He’s got one knotted handful of your hair and the other one is white-knuckling your sheets. You can’t reply with words, your mouth otherwise occupied with his dick throbbing against your tongue that’s dragging up the length of it from the base.

“We can stay in bed today, don’t go to work.” You watch through your eyelashes as he swallows, his head thrown back and sunk into your pillow, throat exposed to you. When you pull off of him with a final flick of your tongue to the head, he groans and cracks an eye open.

“Why are you stopping, pleasepleaseplease don’t stop.”

“Jake…” Your lips pressed to the soft skin of his stomach. “You have to work today too.” Another wet kiss, just above his navel. “But…” Crawling further up his body, another kiss, right over his heart before you’re nose to nose.

“…You sound so pretty when you beg.”

A growl rumbles past his lips before they’re on yours, hard and fast and then he’s got you flipped onto your back. You’ve hardly caught your breath before you feel the tip of his cock pressed against you, still slick from your mouth and slipping through your own wetness. He practically moans his next words into your ear, sliding inside you slowly.

“Please call out today, sweetheart. Stay with me.”

He’s laying it on thick, meekness and desperation in his tone, his bottom lip poked out in a pout when he pulls back to look into your eyes. For good measure, he adds a soft I miss you and his best puppy dog eyes.

“Pffft!” The laughter bursts forth without restraint and he joins you in it, a quiet chuckle and sly tilt to his lips even as he props himself over you and starts to roll his hips. Your giggles catch in your throat on a sigh.

“Ohh… you know I can’t. Makes me feel guilty.” Even as you’re rejecting the idea, your hands are roaming the warm skin of his back and your legs are circling themselves around his waist.

Determined to get his way, he brings one of his own hands to the outside of your thigh and squeezes, drawing them tighter to his body as his thrusts pick up speed.

“Fuck that job.” He feels your nails sink into his skin. “Quit.” A heel digs into his ass, the sound of his hips colliding with your thighs gets louder. “I’ll just be your sugar daddy.”

“Jake!” His eyes light up, bright and warm as the notes of your laughter float up to him from the mattress.

“You think I’m joking, but you like that idea.” Leaning close again, you can feel his breath across your lips so you pucker them, a silent request. “I felt your pretty cunt squeeze me, you want me to spoil you, love?” He captures the kiss you’re offering and absorbs your hum of confirmation. His hips slow until each stroke draws its own gasp or whimper from you, playing composer and instrumentalist of the music you’re making for him.

Forehead dropped to yours, he lets his gaze fall between your bodies, zeroing in on the skin just below your hip bone. There’s a crease there at the joint, where your legs are spread wide and wrapped around him. He releases his grip on your thigh to move higher and slide his thumb through the soft fold. His cock pulses inside you.

“Fuck babe, I’m gonna cum-“ It’s a warning just a heartbeat before it happens, you can feel the beginnings of your own orgasm fade away as his hips stutter and then still. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to, not before-“

You reach up to tuck strands of his hair behind his ear and rest your palm against a rosy cheek. “It’s okay, baby. I need to get ready for work anyway.” He slips out of you and shifts like he’s going to let you out from beneath him, but his arms keep you caged in and he shifts down your body instead, landing on his stomach between your thighs. “Jake, no we don’t have time-“

“Give me two minutes.” You’re not allowed to argue, his mouth already attached to your cunt. A man of his word, he focuses his attention to your clit, sensitive and already swollen. Hands shooting to the back of his head, you hold him there as your muscles constrict and your back arches. You can feel his release begin to leak from you, picturing the pearlescent liquid moving over your pink flesh in your mind.

“Fuuuck, keep going keepgoing!”

A grunt against your skin and then his lips open over you and suck you in, a lewd slurp of your juices… and his. You think he’s going to stop when he realizes what he’s done, but when you lift your head to look at him, his eyes are already on your face. With a knowing lift of his eyebrows, he licks a long, slow stripe through the mess he’s made. It ends with a flick to your clit, and you can see it there, glistening on his tongue.

The moan that rolls out of you is animalistic, feral.

He does it again, dipping inside you for more this time before pulling his face away.

You haven’t taken your eyes off of him, but he makes sure you’re watching.

His lips open, pink and slick and you can just barely see his tongue move behind them before he purses them, and spits it directly onto your clit.

“Fuck Jake!”

You’re plummeting over the edge before he even buries his face back into you, sucking and lapping at you sinfully until you have to push him away. When his head pops up from between your legs, the lower half of his face is a mess, he drags the back of his hand across his grin just before you’re grasping at him and pulling him back up to you.

His kiss tastes like him. And you. The mixture is heady and improper and your tongue is greedy for it as it swirls against his. You stretch out your shoulder from beneath his weight, searching blindly for your phone with one hand as he breaks away.

“What are you doing?”

“Calling out of work.” Your fingers are already moving over the screen, typing up an excuse. “Not quitting, but I’m definitely not going in today.”

His laugh cracks out and bounces off the walls of your tiny bedroom, his head thrown back and the smile on his face stretching wide as he props himself up to lean on an elbow.

“That’s my fucking girl, I love you.”

He’s still shaking with laughter, you’re still typing. “I love you too, baby.”

Your thumb lands on the arrow, message sent before you realize. His body stills beside you. Slowly, you turn your head to face him over your shoulder. He’s already looking at you, eyes wide.

“What did you say?”

“What did you say?”

He breaks first, in slow motion you watch the corners of his mouth tug upward and curl, smile lines sinking deep as he beams at you. Oh, how long he’s been waiting for this. Scrambling to sit up, his legs fold under him and he pulls you up too. When your eyes are focused on him, he reaches forward and gently picks up both of your hands to hold in his, and he says it again.

“I love you, sweetheart. I’m sorry it took me so long-“

“Don’t. Please don’t apologize. I’m so in love with you…” A relieved giggle bubbles from your throat. “I love you! Oh my god, that feels good. Say it again.”

He does, over and over, between lingering kisses and long moments spent entwined with you, fingers drawn leisurely over the dips and curves that make up his favorite parts of you. With nowhere else to be, it’s a long time before you leave the nest of your blankets.

It’s already early afternoon when you’re both seated at your pub table, sharing love-sick glances over the rims of your coffee cups. You’re still naked aside from Jake’s tan button up hanging loose and open over your frame, Jake had opted to simply pull the sheet from your bed and wrap it around his waist.

“Can I ask you something?”

Jake nods as he swallows a sip and places his mug on the table.

“When did it happen?” You begin to pick nervously at your nails, knowing that whatever he says is probably not going to be what you expect.

“When did what happen, love?”

“Ya know, when did you… know?”

He remembers being in almost this exact position before. Having a drink with you, at this table, considering his next move. Instead of an abbreviated version of the truth, he gives you the entire story as it’s written in his mind.

“Well… by April, not this past April but the one before, I knew that I wanted you.” He’d been a month or so deep into the façade of hating you at that point, and he can see that realization move across your expression. “It was a really small thing at our place, for our birthday. I used to try and avoid you when you were there most of the time, but I watched you that day, fawning over Josh. I could see it in your eyes, that you had feelings for him. You were really very obvious about it.”

You groan and drop your face into your hands, a little ashamed of your naïveté. Jake waits patiently for you to look back up at him, which you do sheepishly.

“I knew that day that he wouldn’t reciprocate those feelings, whatever it was that you wanted from him. He wasn’t gonna give it to you. I knew that if I were him, I would’ve taken the opportunity you were presenting on a silver platter. I would’ve had you in my bed every night, looking at me like that.”

Your head is nodding absently, an almost forlorn look on your face that’s pulling the corners of your lips into a barely there frown. All of that time, wasted. His intention isn’t to make you sad, he keeps talking.

“It sort of just… went on like that. For a while. Me wanting you, you snarling or frowning or rolling your eyes at me anytime I dared to speak. But you came to watch us play, and you smiled up at me on purpose. I could tell it was some kind of power move, so I upped the ante. I’m sorry about that, by the way. What I did backstage.”

You laugh it off. “Don’t be. I think it turned out okay.”

He smiles in response. “It did. Still, it wasn’t… nice of me. It was mean, and intentional, but after I’d gotten my hands on you I knew once wouldn’t be enough. I dreamt about fucking you that night, jerked off thinking about you the next morning.”

He chuckles when your cheeks turn pink.

“The next night, at that party, I suppose I had hoped I could shock some reality into you. That you’d just see that I was better for you. But you started crying and it broke my heart. Right before I kissed you, that was when I knew that sex probably wouldn’t be enough for me, but it was what you were willing to accept.”

Your smile is soft, remembering what had been one of the worst nights of your life as something more hopeful. The way he tells it from his perspective is addicting, it’s rare to pull this many words from him at any given time and his voice is quiet, his tone thoughtful. You reach a hand out over the surface of the table to place it over his.

“I do realize that none of that is an answer to what you asked. I just thought you should know.”

He smiles with that, your favorite one, just for you.

“Keep going…” Your own voice is not much more than a whisper.

“I’m getting there. Ya know, there’s a handful of these like… just almost perfect moments that stand out. Really good moments that I’d somehow fuck up, or almost fuck up. Times that had me thinking about every word before I said it, because I knew I was going to embarrass myself. Because I knew I was undeniably and irrevocably in love with you, only four days after I left here for the first time.”

“Jake!” He just grins at you, pleased with his admission. “That’s not true!”

“It is. I swear on Josh’s life. And he’ll tell you himself, I think he knew way before he ever asked me about it. Way before I’d admit it, even to myself.”

You can feel your jaw hanging slack, mouth ajar in disbelief. “I… don’t even know what to say.”

“You don’t have to say anything, please don’t tell me when it happened for you. I’ve embarrassed myself enough, I think.”

Silently, you stand from your chair and slide yourself onto his lap, looping your arms loosely around his neck. His hands keep you secure there, wrapping themselves over each hip as he looks up at you.

Brushing a thumb over it lightly, you ask him, “Did you know I love it when you do this little grin?” Your words cause it to stretch, just a little wider. “You looked just like this when you smiled back at me, on stage, in front of all those people but it was just for me.”

“There is only ever you, for me.”

He’d made love to you again in the shower, unable to wait until the suds had even been rinsed from your body. Slipping against you, your face and tits pressed into the tile with fingers grasping to find purchase on the slick surface, his hands and hips kept you where he wanted you. His teeth worked to coax fresh rosebuds to the surface of your skin, nipping across your shoulder, soothing each one with a kiss and breaths of hushed words.

Mine. My love. I love you.

The sun had eventually disappeared from the sky, replaced by moonlight as you were stretched out over the length of your couch with your head in Jake’s lap. About halfway through The Goonies, which he’d described as “one of the greatest films about pirate treasure of all time”, he called out your name quietly. Your actual name, not love or sweetheart.

You turn your face up to him and find him looking very serious.

“What’s wrong?”

“Absolutely nothing, my life’s pretty perfect at the moment.” He looks around the room and back down to you, confirming that he’s right, it’s perfect. “I was thinking though… wouldn’t it make a lot of sense if you just moved in with me?” When your eyes nearly bulge out of your skull, he adds, “Me and Josh, into our house.”

You shoot up from his lap and twist until you’re cross-legged on the cushion next to him. “What?”

“Hear me out, and I mean this, we’re leaving soon and we’ll be away more than we’re home. For a while. Wouldn’t you rather have our whole house to yourself than be here, alone?”

Ouch.

It’s a harsh truth and it’s coming your way, quickly. You know that.

“You can stop paying rent. You could work less and fly out with us sometimes. You could be around all of our stuff, sleep in Josh’s bed when you miss him more than me.” He’s trying to keep it light-hearted, but you can still feel the sincerity rolling off of him. He’s serious.

It’s your turn to survey the room. You know it’s kind of a shithole apartment, with your entire life packed into its six-hundred or so square feet.

But that’s not true, is it? The best parts of your life live outside of these walls.

“Okay.”

“Okay. Okay?”

“Yes. You’re right, it kinda makes sense. I can’t do it right away, I have to give notice here. What am I gonna do with my furniture? It’s all secondhand, it’s not super important to me but I have to figure out how to get rid of it. Pack and move everything else. Would you have time to help me? Maybe we can ask the other guys- What?”

He’s just been watching you ramble, watching the gears turn in your head and the words spill out as you think of them.

“You’re sure? I was expecting you to have to think about it…”

“I’ve thought about it.”

“Maybe not enough?”

“The last time I thought about something, maybe not enough, I ended up with you.”

Half of his mouth curls up into a smirk. “Fair point.”

“Shouldn’t you… I dunno, talk to Josh about this though?”

He tugs you back to his cushion on the couch and tucks you under his arm until you’re curled into his side, turns his face back to the movie.

“It was his idea.”

You’d started planning and packing the very next evening, notice given to your leasing office and less than two months before the guys leave for Michigan again. Within two weeks, most of your earthly possessions had found new homes in the twins’ house and your furniture, left behind in an otherwise empty apartment, was sitting there waiting to be sold or donated.

It had been strange at first, spending all of your time there, falling asleep and waking up there every day. Most of your time with Jake had been spent in your space, but you figured that this was your space now. It would take some getting used to.

More than once, Jake had stopped you on your way out of the bedroom.

“You don’t have any pants on, sweetheart.”

It was nice though, being with Josh. They were both busier than ever, so much of their time poured into their music, their upcoming performances, but at the end of the day they both came home to you.

You had missed him more than you’d realized.

“Are you sure you don’t want to come back to Michigan, darling? It’s still snowing up there. We could go ice skating again.”

“I can’t take the time off, Josh. Not yet. Also the entire state is going to be crawling with Greta Van Fleet fans, we’re not going ice skating any time soon.”

“I suppose that’s true. So, when are you planning to fly out to us?”

“I don’t know, I haven’t even told my job that I’m planning on cutting my hours yet. All of this happened so fast.”

“You should’ve just quit. I know you care about your job, in the way that any of us care about responsibility, obligation and money… but you don’t love it. You’d be fantastic at artist management, actually. Look how well you keep the two of us in line, we’d be lost without you!”

He’s joking, you think, but he’s not entirely wrong. You don’t exactly have a passion for what you do, you’ve just been doing it for so long. And quitting without a plan is just not in the cards.

They flew out two days later for a solid three week stretch of shows, dates scheduled back to back for most of it. The twins had FaceTimed you after the first one, still high on adrenaline, Sam’s distinct laughter loud in the background. The next day, a day off, Jake had tucked himself away in his bunk on the bus and called. Your conversation was subdued and unhurried, knowing that you wouldn’t have many opportunities like this in the coming weeks.

“I’m so proud of you, baby.”

“Thank you, sweetheart. I love you so much.”

You don’t hear from them much in the next couple of days, a few texts when they have a moment, updates when they can. Jake calls on their days off, waiting until he knows you’re home from work. You’re not expecting it when Josh texts to tell you that he and Jake both had woken up feeling under the weather, only six days in, two shows canceled and rescheduled. Just like that. Neither of them answer your calls, undoubtedly heartbroken over disappointing their fans. Jake sends you one text that day, knowing his brother had broken the news to you.

Jake K: I hate this. I wish you were here.

You cry yourself to sleep, their pain is your pain.

The abrupt ringing of your phone wakes you up. 5:17am.

“Josh?” You have to clear your throat and try again. “Josh, it’s early, are you okay?”

Even through the fog of sleep you can tell he’s upset. “I’m fine, better, actually. Um, darling… it’s Jake.”

Your stomach twists into a knot instantly, you’re shoving the comforter away and moving to stand.

“We had to take him to the hospital.”

The air leaves your lungs, you couldn’t stand if you tried.

“What?” It hardly passes your lips as more than a squeak.

He goes on to tell you that Jake had woken himself up coughing, unable to catch his breath, in pain. The doctors hadn’t been able to diagnose him yet, but they’re trying.

You’d cut him off there, told him you were coming.

He’d stopped you, told you to wait until they figured out what was wrong.

The following hours passed slowly as you waited for information. Jake, still having difficulty breathing, wasn’t able to call. His texts to you were dismal, sad and infrequent as he waited for a diagnosis that turned out to be pneumonia.

Four days. Four days he’d lain in a hospital bed, struggling to breathe and Josh had refused to fly you out, day after day.

“Darling, we’re bringing him home as soon as they let him out. He seems to think he’s going to be able to play, but it’s not happening.”

He’d come home a little thinner, pale, still coughing and short of breath. It had taken weeks for him to feel well enough to even leave the house, you and Josh there to answer to his beck and call, though Josh had tired of it after about a week.

“He’s a grown man, he can walk himself to the kitchen if he wants a damn popsicle.”

“Joshua. He would do anything for you if you needed him. Have some empathy.”

You’d taken Jake the popsicle and found him sitting at his desk, an ostentatious antique with an even more pretentious wingback chair to match, scribbling on an unlined sheet of paper.

“Baby? What are you up to?”

He delicately finishes a sentence, the sound of the pencil’s lead moving over the paper hits your ears before he drops it to the desktop. “Writing them a letter, they deserve to hear from me.”

They. His fans, disappointed but concerned for his health, had shown an outpouring of love and well wishes for him online that hadn’t gone unnoticed.

Looking over his shoulder, you find about half a page of flowery words explaining the progress of his recovery, rescheduled dates, and his thanks.

“They’ll like this, I think. It’s way better than those ugly blocks of texts you guys use to deliver bad news… They’re kind of impersonal, ya know?”

He coughs into the crook of his elbow before answering, a dry sound, already much better than the thick, painful sounding cough he’d come home with.

Clearing his throat and taking a deep breath, he answers you, “I know, and I hate doing that to them.”

You watch him pick up the pencil again and finish it off with a line about their long awaited reunion, dropping lower and signing off with his name. He scans his own words for a second before peeking up at you and finally snatching his popsicle from your fingers. “It’s pretty good, right?”

“I think it’s very good, Jake. All of your love, huh?”

You’re referring to his sign off, heartfelt and dramatic, as he’s been known to be.

All My Love,

Jake

“Jealous, sweetheart?” There’s a playful sort of twinkle in his eyes as he grins up at you, that you’re grateful to see after so many days of the sadness that you’ve found there.

“Shut up and eat your popsicle.”

You treat him like he’s fragile until he can’t take it anymore, but the first time you’d tried anything physical since he’d come home, he came so violently down your throat that it sent him into a coughing fit that left him red in the face and unable to breathe. He’d tried in the days and weeks since, more than once you’d awoken with his hands moving over you, sometimes already rubbing soft circles into you over your underwear. He would beg you to let him make you cum, and you would, but only with his fingers.

Eleven days before they were scheduled to leave for South America, he jumped you as soon as you got home from work. Cleared with a clean bill of health, excited to get back on the road but desperate for you, he attached his lips to yours, wrapped his hands around your waist and lifted you off the ground. With your ankles locked behind his back, he carried you blindly up the stairs without breaking from your kiss.

He’d fucked you, fast and dirty, bending you to his will and tossing you around the bed. Simply because he could. You’d cum hard at his command, the orgasm ripping a scream from your lungs that he’d been aching for, triggering his own that pulled a sound akin to a roar from his mouth.

Sweating, chests heaving and bodies sprawled across the sheets, you’d come down silently aside from a pleased chuckle from Jake.

From the hallway outside the bedroom door, Josh’s voice had rung out, coming in and then fading out as he’d passed and headed down the stairs.

“So glad to hear you’re feeling better, but that was absurd. Keep that shit to yourselves!”

You almost felt bad but for the next week, the sex was savage. And loud. On their birthday, Josh had presented you with what he referred to as “a gift to myself.” He pulled up an email confirmation on his phone and flipped it around, dropping it into your hands.

“You’re staying in a hotel tonight?”

“No, you two animals are staying in a hotel tonight. I will be sleeping soundly in my bed. And it will be quiet.”

You didn’t argue, just sighed and wrapped your arms around him. He stopped you when you started to apologize for the noise.

“I knew what I was signing up for when I floated the idea of you moving in, darling. I also know that you’re still wrapped up in this little honeymoon phase, and it’ll pass. Now get out, enjoy yourselves and leave me in peace!”

You’d run upstairs to pack a small bag before telling Jake what your new plans for the evening were. Digging through what was now your underwear drawer, looking for something worthy of the birthday boy, it had dawned on you.

All you packed was a change of clothes for the morning, and the oversized black band tee. His band.

Ultimately, Jake had been correct about a few things. You were ecstatic for them to be going back to South America and Mexico, to be performing again with arguably the biggest rock band in the world, their excitement had been contagious but it didn’t take long for you to miss them, and being in a house full of their things actually did help. Some. There were even a couple of nights spent in Josh’s bed, but not exactly because you missed him more.

You missed Jake so badly that it physically hurt, the scent of him in your shared bed made your chest ache, sometimes so deeply that it prevented you falling asleep. On one of those nights, tucked under Josh’s comforter, you were scrolling mindlessly through the Greta Van Fleet tag on Instagram. Already knowing that some of the things you would find there would be… odd, you scrolled and scrolled. From experience, you also knew you would find fan photos, people who’d met them or seen them out and about. Jake had told you that they were meeting people everywhere they went, and you found the evidence of that just like you’d easily found the picture of yourself in the Christmas store.

Both of the twins had been sending you their own pictures as they made their way through Chile, Argentina and Brazil, usually of distinct landmarks, exotic flowers, or beautiful blue bodies of water. But you’d started a collection of saved photos, the few that they’d sent of themselves, or each other.

As you scrolled, shifting from Instagram to your camera roll, you noticed something. Back to Instagram, you search for the band’s account and look closely at everything posted since they got to Chile. Pinch, zoom, yep. There it is. Back to your camera roll. Every picture Josh had sent you of his twin, knowing you needed them, many times taken without his knowledge.

The silver necklace, the coin. It would appear that he hasn’t taken it off since he’s been gone. It’s curious, and you’re not sure why it had caught your eye aside perhaps from the fact that it simply hasn't been his regular jewelry of choice since you’ve known him. You’re fairly certain that you understand his mind pretty well at this point, and you decide that this is deliberate. You make a mental note to remember to ask him about it before a fatigued yawn grips you.

With your eyes squeezed closed, you can feel how you’ve strained them staring at your phone in the dark of Josh’s room. Before you lock the screen for the night, you open your messages and choose the thread at the top.

Me: I love you baby

You had said your goodnights hours ago, intending to go to sleep and failing. You’re not expecting a response, but you keep typing.

Me: Will this ever get easier?

You’re awoken in the morning, entirely too early, by the ringing of your phone. Startled into consciousness, the fear hits you first, the memory of Josh’s call from Michigan still fresh in your mind. You scramble to reach for it, noting the time is actually after nine, and the name and photo on the screen are Jake’s.

Nervously, quietly, you answer. “Hello?” Met at first with silence, you try again. “Jake?”

His voice bleeds from the speaker, low in volume but directly into your ear, and as soon as you hear it your vision blurs.

“I can’t promise that it gets easier, sweetheart. I don’t know the answer to that. But I can promise you that whatever you’re feeling… I feel it too.” He waits for your response, but the soft sound of your breath hitching comes over the line. “Please don’t cry, baby, you’re breaking my heart over here.”

He listens to you weep, a melancholy mixture of quiet sobs and sniffles, offering you words that he hopes are comforting and wishing he had you in his arms.

“I- I’m sorry. You don’t need this right now, I didn’t mean to-“

“Don’t be sorry, love, just.. do me a favor?”

You sniffle again, swiping your fingertips across the wet streaks left on your cheeks. “What?”

“Tell me you love me, tell me you’re all in.” You repeat his words back to him, and you mean them. He smiles to himself, a grin that you can’t see. “That’s all that matters. I’ll be home in a week.”

Seven days and thirteen hours later, he’s on his knees between your legs, wrinkled linen shirt discarded somewhere on the floor nearby and quickly joined by your leggings. He’s working on your panties, his hands are impatient as they drag the lace past your hips and down your thighs, his lips are hungry as they follow the trail of goosebumps left behind by his fingers.

From your seat at the edge of the bed, leaned back on your palms, you watch him move. The apples of his cheeks and the bridge of his nose are faintly freckled from the Mexican sun, the first thing you’d noticed when you’d cupped his face in your hands this morning, as soon as he’d unfolded his frame from the car in the driveway. There’s also a distinct V of tanned skin down the center of his chest, his shoulders and arms still pale. The silver necklace still hangs there, apparently his new favorite.

When your underwear are slipped free from your feet, you watch him bring them to his face, balled in one of his fists. His eyes meet yours just as he buries his nose into them and breathes you in.

You don’t bother with an objection because his eyelids flutter and the honey of his irises disappears as his eyes roll back, and you feel your pussy pulse in response. When his eyes open and refocus on you, they’re nearly black.

He tosses the panties over his shoulder and skates his fingers up the backs of your legs, up your calves and settles his palms onto your knees.

“Y’know those dreams that are so… vivid that you can smell them?” His hands slip inward and slowly push your knees farther apart as you hum in acknowledgment. “I had dreams like that when we were gone, I dunno what’s in the air down there but I think it was affecting my brain.” Spreading your legs as far as they’ll go, his hands continue their journey up the insides of your thighs and he watches you open to him, revealing your arousal glistening between the folds. “I could smell your shampoo, the lotion on your skin.” He brings his face closer to your core, close enough to feel the heat rolling off of your body, closing his eyes and taking another deep inhale through his nose. You run a hand through the hair falling over his ear and sink your fingers into the tresses, guiding his face up to look at you again. “I could smell your cunt, I swear I could taste it. I’d wake up with my mouth watering and my dick pounding.”

Lost for words, all you can manage is a whisper. “Stop teasing.” You use your grip against his scalp to pull him into you, his soft chuckle rippling over your already sensitive flesh.

He savors you, his movements slow and intentional as his tongue drags over every inch of you, your lips sucked past his own as the flavor of you coats his taste buds.

With a hand lifted and placed to the center of your chest, still covered by the soft cotton of one of his old t-shirts, he pushes you gently to lay back for him. As soon as your back hits the sheets, your hips are writhing against his mouth, searching for friction, searching for more, desperate to reach this first peak and get him inside you.

He lets you squirm, taking what he needs from between your thighs while your body begs him to take you higher and push you over. Knowing he’ll never truly get his fill, he’ll never actually get enough, he gives in to the demand of your hands, both now tangled in the hair at the back of his head and trying to coax him to where you need him. He sucks your clit into his mouth and rolls his tongue over it.

Your hips still and your back bows, a perfect arch over the mattress. He likes your reaction, loves it even, but something’s missing. Popping off of your pussy, he shakes his head at you.

“Let me hear you, love. I’ve been missing all those filthy sounds you make for me.” He leans in a flicks his tongue over you, pulling an airy whine from your throat. It’s not good enough, so he abandons his work and moves to trail kisses down the inside of your thigh instead.

With a bratty huff of frustration, you lift your head and find him watching you from the corner of his eye, lips still moving over your skin. You let your head drop back to the bed, annoyed.

Laced with attitude, you spit out, “Jake, come on.”

Rather than respond, or comply, you feel his tongue slip over the tender skin high inside your thigh just before he opens his mouth wide and then closes his teeth around it. Hard.

“FUCK Jake!”

That’s better, his dick jumps in his pants at the sound and he drops a hand to his lap to run it over his length. He’s painfully hard already, straining against the material but prepared to wait until he gets what he wants from you. He keeps running his lips, tongue and teeth over your thigh until he does.

“Baby please, I need you.”

“And I need you, but you’re holding back on me. Why?” When you stay silent for a beat too long, he pries further. “Tell me, or you can go to bed now, wet and aching.”

You know he’s bluffing, or you hope he is, but there’s no possibility that you’re going to test that theory.

“Josh…”

Just over the mound between your thighs, you see his brows lift, eyes burning into yours. “You better explain that, sweetheart. Now.”

“He’ll hear us.”

His features relax as a slow grin pulls one corner of his mouth upward. “So what?” Moving in close, he extends his tongue and swipes it over your clit with a pointed flick that jerks a yelp past your lips. “He doesn’t care.”

“He does, and we’ve been pretty terrible roommates so far, Jacob.”

The admonishing tone combined with the use of his full name grabs his attention. “Oh she’s serious.” He drops a kiss to the soft sprinkling of hair just above the throbbing and neglected bud between your legs. “You’re such a sweet girl, aren’t you?” Another kiss, this time with his lips puckered and placed directly over your clit. You sigh quietly at the contact. “How could I deny my sweet, perfect girl anything that she wants? Just let me hear you, make that pretty music just for me.”

Finally, he sucks you onto his tongue again, swirling it over you until your barely restrained gasps and soft moans of his name are filling the room, bouncing against these four walls. Your hands keep him pulled tight against you, muffling his own satisfied grunts and when you feel the tips of his fingers dip into you, your hips rock against them until they’re sunk in deep, until you’re fucking yourself with them. With just one curl sending them brushing over that hidden spot inside, you begin to unravel around them.

“I’m gonna cum, baby, I- oh god!”

He doesn’t stop when your legs attempt to clamp shut around his head, lapping at your release as it rushes out of you and soaks the fingers that he’s still pumping into you. He’s drawing it out, swallowing down everything that you’re giving him as if he’s been shipwrecked, stranded on a deserted island, finally presented with enough precious liquid to save his life. When your muscles go lax and your legs fall open, he slips his fingers from you slowly, careful not to waste a drop, licking a final stripe over you before popping those fingers into his mouth and sucking them clean.

Unable to will your muscles into motion, you call out to him from your position, limp and splayed out over the bed. “Pants off, now.” You don’t hear him spring into action, so you crack an eye open and lift your head enough to look down at him. He looks drunk, his eyes dazed and unfocused but still trained on your pussy. You try to prop yourself up but your limbs feel useless, so you force your other eye open to see him better and that’s when you catch it. The ends of his hair, hanging forward over his collarbones, are wet. There’s a drop clinging to his chin, catching the light as it quivers there and then falls, dripping to the floor.

“Jake, what-“

Your voice breaks through the haze and his eyes snap to yours. “I think… I’m pretty sure you just squirted.”

The word alone makes you groan, your arms finding the strength to lift and fold over your face, hiding the flaming heat turning your cheeks red. This finally has him moving, off of his knees to kneel on to mattress and hover over you, tugging your arms away to reveal your embarrassment.

“Whoa whoa, what’s wrong?”

“Don’t say that!”

“What? ‘Squirt’?”

You slap your hands to your face, hiding it from him again. “It’s gross!”

With a gentle touch, he peels your hands away and pins them to the mattress, fingers linked with yours. Your eyes are squeezed shut as he brings his face closer. “Look at me.” You do as he asks, his tone delicate and soft as a summer breeze. “It’s not gross, nothing about you could ever be. It’s probably the hottest thing you’ve ever done, right above the first time you asked me to fuck your mouth.” He’s flooded with relief when a tinkling giggle slips from between your lips, now turned up into a timid smile. “Here, feel this?” He guides one of your hands down between your bodies and places it over his cock, sucking in a hiss through his teeth when you squeeze it. He’s hard as stone, and you can feel the heat coming off of him even through his pants.

In awe of your effect on him, you whisper, “Does it hurt?”

“Mm, a little. Feels like I could explode any second.”

“Show it to me, let me see.”

He presses a fast kiss to your lips and stands from the bed, stripping himself quickly of his pants and taking his briefs with them. Completely bared to you, he watches you sit up for a closer look and wraps a hand around the base.

His cock is swollen and flushed a deep pink, the tip nearly red and leaking as he pulls his fist to it. Your brain is screaming at you, yelling for you to lean forward and taste it, but the walls of your cunt are pulsing, clenching around nothing, greedy for him. He continues to stroke himself slowly, in front of your face, wincing through the near pain of it and silently challenging you to make the next move. Whatever you want, it’s yours.

Your original need wins out and you turn away from the sight of him, beautiful and brazenly pleasuring himself inches from your lips. You crawl up the bed and place yourself comfortably upon the pillows, finding him eyeing you intensely once you’re facing him again. His hand stills on his dick as you bend both legs at the knee and let them fall open wide.

“Get over here.”

He’s on the bed in an instant, yanking the hem of your t-shirt up and revealing your breasts, pulling a nipple into his mouth as he lines himself up, lavishing it with his tongue as he crashes his hips into yours.

Unable to stop it, you scream when the head of his cock slams into your cervix. Rather than slow his pace, he takes the fistful that he still has of your shirt and shoves it into your open mouth. He’s pleased with its efficiency, the primal sounds that you’re making are pretty effectively quieted as you bite down on the cotton. Just to make sure, he pops off of your nipple and takes the other between his teeth. Your muffled mhmm, mmhmm has him driving them into the skin. Your muted squeal has his hips pistoning, jolting your body as he races to his finish.

Almost there, dangling over the edge, he lifts his face from your chest to check on you, a visual assessment that finds a sheen of sweat across your brow and your eyes rolling back in your skull.

On a ragged breath, he calls for your attention. “Babe…”

You roll your eyes forward and find him dripping with sweat, it’s rolling down his neck and traveling over his chest. The pendant of his necklace, the coin, is swinging over your face as his rhythm begins to falter.

“I’m gonna cum, fill this pussy up, you want it?” His jaw is clenched, he’s barely hanging on.

You release the shirt from between your teeth and spit it out.

“Give it to me, I want it all. Do it, Jake!”

With a strangled call of your name, your actual name, he lets go. You can feel the heat of it spilling inside you and he groans, sounding again like it’s physically painful as he fills you until his release is overflowing from your cunt, while he’s still fucking more into you. His body shudders as it finally ends, he sinks to you, hot and sticky and completely drained. Into the damp skin in the crook of your neck, he murmurs a drowsy I love you.

Hands running through the sweat-soaked strands of his hair, you say it back. He breathes into a kiss placed to that spot on your neck before rolling off of you.

He’s already slipping into sleep, you know he’s exhausted from travel and you can see it now in his features. There are soft purple shadows under the fans of his eyelashes, resting over his cheeks. You also know that he’ll wish in the morning that he had showered, washed the film of sweat and sex off of his body before passing out, but you can’t bear the thought of forcing him from the bed now.

You let your fingers trail over his chest, moving steadily with the rhythm of his breathing that’s evening out as he drifts away. Drawing a circle over the cool metal of his necklace, you whisper up to him before he’s completely gone.

“Have you been wearing this since you left?”

Barely conscious, he lifts a hand and wraps his fingers around yours that are toying with the coin.

“Mm, yeah. Haven’t taken it off.”

“Is there a reason?” You know there has to be, everything he does has a purpose, even if he doesn’t know exactly what it is.

“Finished the book you gave me for Christmas. I read it three times while we were gone. Necklace reminds me of you.”

Oh.

He’s snoring softly before you can respond. You move away from him slowly, rolling to grab your phone but not finding it on your nightstand. Quickly and quietly, you tiptoe around the room and don’t find it anywhere, so you slip your leggings back on, up and over your hips and sneak out the door.

You head first to use the bathroom, then to Josh’s bedroom door but find it slightly ajar and the room dark. After slinking down the stairs, you’re met with a dark kitchen but a soft blue glow coming from the living room. Josh is there, nearly asleep himself but still upright on the couch in front of some black and white film that doesn’t seem familiar to you. He startles only slightly when you step into the room.

“What are you sneaking around for, darling? I didn’t even hear you come down the stairs.” He pats the cushion next to him, an invitation that you accept.

“Jake’s asleep, I didn’t wanna wake him. What are you still doing up?”

“I could ask you the same, shouldn’t you be cuddling your beloved or some shit? You reek of sex.” There’s no fire behind his words as he teases you.

“I need to talk to you. I need your help.”

Just over two weeks later, they’re packed to leave again. They both pack infuriatingly light for a month-long journey through Europe, but you know they’ll cycle through five outfits, max, between the two of them

Jake saunters into your bedroom as you’re frantically sifting through your closet, tossing things out into the room as you go. He moves through the space, taking note of the open suitcase laid out on the bed as he steps toward the closet door, where a denim jacket slaps him in the face and wraps itself around his head. You haven’t even noticed and continue to throw things in his direction. He pulls the jacket free and drops it to the pile you’ve created at his feet before scaring the shit out of you.

“Running away, sweetheart?”

“Shit Jacob!” You’ve nearly jumped out of your skin, but gather yourself quickly and keep moving through your hangers. “How do you guys pack so easily, how do you know what to bring?”

“It’s simple, love, we never change our clothes. Mind if I ask, again, where you’re going?”

You push past him in the doorway and move to start folding things to put in your suitcase. He turns and follows you with his eyes as you continue to ignore his question. Crossing the room, he steps in behind you as you’re leaned over the bed and reaches around you to stop your hands from shoving another pair of jeans into the case.

“Stop, before you piss me off.” Your back stiffens at that, the authority in his tone sending a shiver down your spine that makes your toes curl. He slides his hands from yours, slowly up your arms until he’s spinning you around by your shoulders. Curiosity is lifting one of his eyebrows, the other drawn down and creasing the skin between them.

You’ve been waiting for this confrontation, thought you were ready for it but now that it’s happening, your palms are clammy with nerves. You try to wipe the anxiety from your expression, offering him your own quirked eyebrow and a sly smile.

“I’m taking a trip to Denmark.”

You watch a range of emotion flash across his face in just a few seconds, surprise, then confusion, followed by the dawn of understanding. Finally, excitement is alight in his eyes and you start to feel it too before the corners of his mouth pull downward.

“You’re coming with us. You can’t just up and come with us, this shit takes planning babe, scheduling, flights. We have a whole team that travels-“

“It’s taken care of.”

He’s still confused, understandably. “How?”

“Josh took care of it. I asked him to.” The nerves are back, sensing that he has more questions before he accepts this as truth.

He considers what you’ve told him so far, which is next to nothing, with his arms folded and a hand under his chin, running his finger over the small dimple there.

“For how long?”

“A month.”

“Baby, that’s the entire time we’ll be in Europe. What did you tell your job?”

“I quit.”

“You quit.”

“Two weeks ago. I put in my notice after Josh said he would handle the arrangements. Yesterday was my last day.”

You let him process it, not daring to move from your place in front of him, terrified that he’s going to tell you you’ve made a mistake. Your heart’s beating so rapidly that you’re sure you’re about to pass out, just before he unfolds his arms and takes both of your hands in his.

His voice is soft, sweet as cotton candy and spun up with the dreamy quality of disbelief. “You’re coming with me?”

Your fingers squeeze his, helping to ground you both in the reality of this. “I am. For as long as you’ll have me. I’ll look for a new job when we get back to the states, if that’s okay. I’m not sure wh-“

His kiss punches the air from your lungs and any other words from your brain, his hands thrown into your hair then sliding down your body until he hauls you off your feet. Arms and legs wrapped around him, you throw your head back and laugh until you truly can’t breathe. He watches from below, and he knows.

When you drop your forehead to his, he smiles back at you, that one that he now knows to be your favorite. He’d almost fucked this up, this moment that he’ll tuck away into his memory, but he’ll recall it later and it’ll be perfect.

“Forever. I’d take you with me forever, to every horizon.” Another kiss pulled from your lips, one of thousands, millions even. “I don’t give a shit if you never work again. I knew you wanted me to be your sugar daddy, sweetheart.”

The End 💔💔💔

Taglist:

@lightmylove-gvf @spicedandicedtea @weneedsomehealing123 @milkgemini @why-ami-on-here @gretavanbitches @twistedmelodies @wildflowerxx-x @dannythedog @blissfulbellss @averagemisfit03 @dharmasdivine @thetroublegetssoloud71 @lucimoo @toxbexannouncedx @dig0930 @maddie-van-fleet @friska101-cg @welllauragvf @gretasimp @objectsinspvce @writingcold @gretavangroupie @sweetybre @gretasgoose @gvfjess @josh-iamyour-mama

[mumms-the-word]

For apprecimaytion: 10

Me: maybe I’ll write something for someone other than Gale

Also me: *sees the prompt is poetry* well frick how can I do anyone other than Gale it’s POETRY

Gonna do a smallish copout and use some of the poems from @sorceresssundries Gale’s Poetry Journal 👀 one she wrote for Dani and one I wrote for Gale. I’m not going to post the whole poems but I’ll link them!

Edit: Also I’ve been informed that this event is meant to be written about other people’s Tavs and Durges but consider this post my appreciation of @sorceresssundries’s poetic works 🥰

~*~*~

Dani lay with her arms folded behind her head on her bedroll, watching the afternoon clouds float by, dusted in gold and pink. They’d decided to make camp early, since tomorrow they’d be investigating the mountain pass, looking for Lae’zel’s alleged crèche. But Dani was bored. More than anything, she wished she had a good book. A good smutty book, perhaps.

She sat up, eyeing the library rock and the books stacked up there. Since starting this journey, their library of books had grown, sometimes stowed away in a chest that seemed infinitely deep, and sometimes, like today, scattered about on a surface. Gale had come through a short while ago, pulling out books and leaving them in stacks, apparently in search of something specific, before leaving the haphazard collection on the rock to disappear into his tent. She hadn't seen him for the better part of an hour.

She got up and approached the rock, scanning the books for a familiar title. A tawdry tale about Balduran, perhaps, or even some of the kids' stories they’d gotten from the Grove. But her eyes landed, instead, on a book she hadn’t seen before. It was a leather-bound book with no title on the spine and a generic pattern pressed into the cover. Curious, she picked it up and began to flick through the pages.

A journal, she realized. A journal of poetry. Her eyes scanned the handwritten lines with interest, absorbed by the words. They were beautiful, intricate, haunting….familiar.

It struck her all at once whose handwriting this was.

She flicked her gaze over to Gale’s tent, but he had yet to emerge. She bit her lip against a smile and set the journal aside, finding a blank page from a different book to tear out and quickly write down a poem on. The words had lingered in her head for a while, with her mulling over how to turn them into a song but always hitting a snag. Maybe it was never meant to be a song. Maybe, she realized, it was meant to be a little note.

O to be a book in his hands…

For the last couple of days, they'd been flirting and teasing each other. For the last couple of days, she'd tried to encourage him to abandon his reservations and simply live. She understood his concerns. The orb, of course, and all the danger around them. But even so, she found him compelling. Handsome. Intelligent. Funny. Kind. Try as he might to place a little distance between them, she kept pursuing.

That wasn't what she wrote about, of course. Try as she might, she was a witty cynic more than she was a romantic. Even here, her poetry, though lyrical, had an edge to it. A teasing throughline. A bit of cheeky wit and playful feigned innocence.

This was a poem about man holding a book, and nothing more.

At least, on the surface.

She closed her eyes and focused on the image of a book in Gale's hands. His long fingers cradling the spine and cover. His dark eyes focusing on the page. She opened her eyes and kept writing, until at last she reached the final stanza.

to witness from below the touch of his tongue to his fingertip which he guides to the corner and slips between the folds and with a practiced flick turns over the leaf and smooths it down with the flat of his palm

She smiled to herself, scanning over the lines. A rustling sound, like tent fabric movement, caught her attention and she quickly folded the parchment and tucked it into some of the back pages of the journal. It didn't matter when he read it. It was enough to know that it was there.

She grabbed a book at random and returned to her bedroll.

---

She didn't see the journal again for days. They'd journeyed through the shadow cursed lands and come out the other side victorious in several ways, and she was eager to be back in her beloved city. But they weren't there yet, resulting in one more night out in the wilderness.

She and Gale had made it a habit now to bed down together. If they even bothered pitching more than one tent, it was usually with the two of them close enough that they might as well be one tent.

She laid back in his embrace, with him propped up on several pillows, idly writing down lyrics in a journal that she had acquired some time ago. Songs that she knew well, but wanted to keep in a personal songbook. A few new songs, too, but those were in scattered notes at the back. Gale rested his chin on her shoulder, watching her write for a moment before he finally turned his head and kissed her cheek.

"My love, can I show you something?" he asked softly.

"Hm? What is it?"

He reached over to grab something and then set down over top of her journal. She recognized his poetry journal instantly. It looked worse for wear, the leather creased, the edges of the pages dinged and dirty, but she knew it was his journal. She'd been hoping to see it again for some time now. She feigned surprise and looked up at him.

"What is this?"

"Don't play coy," he said, smirking faintly at her. "You know exactly what this is." He indicated a small bookmark, little more than a fraying ribbon. "Go on, open it. There's something I want you to read."

She opened the book to the page he had saved, finding herself faced with his handwriting again. Where before some of his poems had been written in a slightly erratic, yet elegant hand, this one was written carefully and clearly.

A Sonnet for the Bard

She looked up at him again, surprised, but he merely smiled warmly at her and indicated the page with his eyes. A hint to keep reading. She settled back against him, whispering the words to herself as she read.

Till now I was lost, sound-starved by sorrow, Future left quiet by unholy choice.

Her eyes started to get a little misty despite herself, but she kept reading, the beautiful words washing over her. He spoke of gods and fate, songs and rescues. He spoke of her.

You are a lyric, echoing outwards…I was near drowned, and you sang me a rope…

She remembered all too easily the way he'd struggled with Mystra's order. How she had been indignant at the command, even impatient with him for considering it. She thought she had come across as unfeeling, but here she realized otherwise. Her convictions about wanting him to stay alive, to find a better way, had been a lifeline to him.

She blinked away the rest of her few tears to focus on the last lines of the sonnet, feeling her heart swell with love for the man behind her, whose arms were around her even now.

Even in silence, my heart strums along, Tuned to the bard with a soul made of song.

A soul made of song...gods, he was such a romantic.

"Gale," she said, turning to look at him. "When did you write this?"

"Oh, a few days ago," he said, shrugging. "Amazing what a night together with someone you love can do for the creative faculties, don't you think?"

"Don't be so modest," she laughed. She set their journals aside and turned to straddle him, wrapping her arms loosely around his neck. "It was beautiful. You have a gift for poetry, you know."

"I wouldn't say that," he said, though his smile suggested that he was quite proud of her compliments. "I just dabble here and there."

"Shut up and take the compliment, love," she murmured, bringing her lips to his and kissing him so he couldn't quibble about talent anymore. She continued to kiss him, sweet and slow, eventually whispering, "Thank you. I love it. I love you."

"And I love you, my songstress," he murmured in return. He pulled back to smile up at her. "Believe me, this is but the first of many poems I plan to write for and about you."

She laughed. "Watch it, or you'll make this a competition, and it's unwise to compete in a battle of words with a bard."

"If it means reading more of your poetry, then I willingly accept the challenge."

She looked at him with surprise. She had almost forgotten about the poem she wrote ages ago. She wasn't sure she could even remember the words anymore. "So you knew it was from me?"

"Who else could it have been from? Withers?"

She laughed at that and leaned in to kiss him. "You caught me. I'd almost forgotten about that silly poem." She pulled back to look at him again, her linked hands behind his neck keeping her from falling backward. "Will you read it to me? Or read some of your other poems to me?"

"Are you sure that is a wise idea?" he asked, arching an eyebrow. A challenge, not a cautionary statement. "If I recall, your poem, at least, was a little...sensual."

"I don't know what you're talking about, darling," she said, grinning. "I was just writing about a book." He gave her a look that said he didn't believe her for a second but she simply kissed him again, whispering a quiet, "Please? Read for me?"

She felt his amused sigh against her lips. "Very well," he murmured back in between kisses. "I can deny you nothing."

Pleased that he had accepted, she untangled herself from him and resumed her earlier position, laying back against him, her body stretched out between his legs and against his chest, snuggling close for a private poetry reading.

~*~*~

no edits we die like men okay thank you goodbye

[anghraine]

Do you have any book recommendations for the Jane Austen fan who's read every one of her books?

DO I EVER.

Okay, it really depends on your preferences and what you're looking for. If you want to read things that were part of the background noise when Austen started writing and have similar concerns, you might look at things like Frances Burney's Evelina, Charlotte Lennox's The Female Quixote, The Italian or (more famously) The Mysteries of Udolpho by Ann Radcliffe, or going a little further afield, William Godwin's Caleb Williams, Mary Wollstonecraft's Maria (or, for non-fiction, "Vindication of the Rights of Woman"), Sarah Scott's Millenium Hall, or various novels of Henry Fielding (I like Jonathan Wild, though it's quite different).

If you want to go nineteenth rather than eighteenth century, you can look at someone like Maria Edgeworth (also mentioned in NA!). Jumping ahead, Emily Eden is clearly an Austen fan (she gives P&P a shout-out in The Semi-Attached Couple, which is significantly different but obviously influenced by Austen). Frances Trollope's One Fault gives a very clear idea of why Elizabeth Bennet was so concerned about good nature as well as basic virtue (it's essentially about psychological abuse). There are the big names like George Eliot and the Brontës (Anne Brontë's The Tenant of Wildfell Hall is my personal favorite and probably the most akin to Austen of any of them).

If you want to read on Jane Austen, some faves:

Jane Austen and the Fabric of Dialogue by Howard S. Babb is from the 60s, so you may want to take some of it with a grain of salt, but I've always found it really interesting and engaging.

Even earlier, there's Fields of Light by Reuben A. Brower (1951), which I had to save to track down years ago, but which apparently has been republished since. There's a chapter on Austen that's really good IMO.

I like most of Julia Prewitt Brown's work on Austen, though I have a particular fondness for "The Feminist Depreciation of Jane Austen," which is basically a 90s-era guided tour through (and breakdown of) bad takes that had been filtered through a narrow sort of feminism.

I'm really fond of some of John Wiltshire's interpretations in Recreating Jane Austen. This is also from the 90s, iirc, so it doesn't address later adaptations, but he also was a co-author of the later (2009) The Cinematic Jane Austen, in which he expanded his essay on Darcy's smile and its minimization in adaptations (not where I got my gripe over it, but validating to see someone talk about it!).

Persuasions (Jane Austen literary journal): it's a bit hit and miss, but there are some very good articles that can only really be found there. I own a few volumes of it and have used them repeatedly.

The Gentleman's Daughter by Amanda Vickery: this gives more of a historical context leading up to Austen's time that periodically references Austen, but can be useful!

[ros3ybabe]

Update Check In - October 7th thru October 10th, 2023 🎀

I am officially back home from seeing my boyfriend and now I am big sad because I already miss him again. I was not as productive as I thought I would’ve been while with him these last three days but I’m also not mad about my lack of stuff done. I got some quality time with him and I am so happy with that. I did do some things that would count s productivity, such as some Japanese studying and a short amount of homework. I think I’ll use this post as a motivator for some stuff I need to do with a little bit of what I did this weekend.

🩷 What I Accomplished -

Kept up Duolingo daily streak

Kept up Busuu daily streak

Began working in Lesson One in Genki I

Submitted and passed Psyc Quiz for Chapter 7

Began using LingQ for Japanese

Looked into Kanji learning books

so yes, I didn’t accomplish much but again, not mad. I am still happy with what I did accomplish. I also really enjoy the Genki I textbook so far, I’m still trying to figure out a good note taking technique for myself with this textbook but I really like writing down the end of lesson practice exercises. I think I want to get better at reading and writing, and listening, and my goal is to start italki lessons by December/Jaunary. If I don’t start my italki lessons until a bit later tho, I won’t be upset because I know learning Japanese is a long process and something I’ll be working on for a good chunk of my life.

🩷 ToDo Personal Today, Oct 11 -

Wash bed sheets + pillowcases

Wash + put away all laundry (clothes)

Do dishes

Continue to work on Genki I lesson one

Maintain Duolingo streak

Maintain Busuu streak

Use Renshuu

Look for some more affordable Japanese language resources for my IPad

Talk to my boyfriend in video call

Make a shopping list for language tracker/bullet journal (I get paid tomorrow)

Make a schedule/routine for working out (I’m going back to the gym next week!)

🩷 ToDo Academic for Today, October 11 -

Lifecycle nutrition chart for NUTR

Lab 7 Pre Lab for my Anatomy Lab

Discussion 3 for NUTR

Culinary chapter 10 quiz

not much academic stuff on the list for the day but I’m trying to take it a little easier with my school things as I am exhausted from a long day of flying and airports yesterday. However, I am using today as like, a set up day for my upcoming days/week. Productive planning is basically my goal for today with a little bit of actively doing some work. I am excited to start my language tracking bullet journal and plan some stuff for working out as I am planning on going back to the gym next week. I want to start with light cardio for the first week just to get me in the habit of going and then after I’m going to step back into the weight room and start lifting light. My boyfriend got me motivated to work on my mental and physical health a bit better, so I’m definitely excited!

I feel with the exercising, it will help me manage my stress better, which I feel will lead to better mood and better food choices. Exercising alone is enough of a motivator to take my nutrition more seriously. I’m more focused on the mental and emotional health aspect of working out than I am the physical stuff, but I’m excited for all the benefits regardless. I just want to take better care of my health in every aspect, in a way that aligns with my values. Hopefully I will have better posts full of more information and stuff I’ve done during the day once I get all areas in my life back in balance with each other.

that’s all for now! I appreciate all of you who read and comment and send me the most encouraging and supportive messages, you all keep me motivated and inspired to continue being my most authentic self and help me feel comfortable with expressing myself in this community. I am so grateful for everything that goes into this blog and everything it’s done for me and the direction it’s helped me guide my life in! Much love to all of you <3

til next time lovelies 🩷🤍

[miradelletarot]

Hi! I'm fascinated by tarot reading!

How did you get into it?

It's a bit of an interesting story honestly lol I'll try to spare you all the boring details, but back in 2020, my husband and i hit a huge rough patch. I was a very different person then: unhealed, full of trauma, no healthy coping mechanisms, no therapist, so codependent that the idea of him leaving me made me feel like i was quite literally going to die. It wasn't good. (I'm a lot better now, and a LOT has changed since then. All for the better). =]

So, January 2021, my bestie...my ride or die...she offered to do a tarot reading for me. I didn't really have an opinion on it then other than it seemed cool so I told her why not. Little did I know, she had been doing tarot and other spiritual practices for 2 years in secret (for fear of judgement,) and opened up to me about it.

Not long after that initial reading, things that she said would happen *did* happen and it astounded me b/c there was literally no way she could have known the outcome of that situation i asked about. I was immediately more fascinated, and asked her to tell me more about it.

Long story short, she gifted me one of her decks she no longer used. She said it hated her (LOL) but I have had nothing but great experiences with it. During that year, I began to explore my own spirituality, and found myself getting deeper into Tarot. I have been doing it ever since. I mostly read intuitively, but I cannot stress enough that it's very important that if you want to read tarot yourself, you learn the cards. There is much that I am still learning, but as you explore it, you learn not only the card representations, but you also learn that some cards stand for certain zodiac signs, or time periods, or combinations of cards have a set meaning...it's incredible how deep it can go.

If you are interested in learning for yourself, I HIGHLY recommend getting a classic Rider-Waite deck, this book (not sponsored or anything, just a really good book) and this playlist. Don't freak out, but I ENCOURAGE you to WRITE ON YOUR DECK. This will be your training deck, and is the foundation for ALL Rider-Waite based decks. if you like journaling in some aspect, do a card pull each day. Study what it means to you before you pull out your guidebooks and notes, and then compare to the guides to see if you got it right. It's a fantastic way to learn, and get more familiar with your cards.

If you decide to try out tarot for yourself I wish you all the best in your journey! And thank you, Anon for the ask. I really appreciate you taking the time to share your curiosity with me!