#i have old i could post but i also am wearing my new dress i feel like a princess so i took this one just cause

[cowardlycowboys]

spring

[tteokdoroki]

✩ — ANGELS SHOULD NEVER FALL THIS FAR FROM HEAVEN ⁀➷ everyone believes satoru gojo to be an angel. your mother considers her new son to be a blessing, even if he’s bratty and spoiled. but never once did think teasing him would make your step-brother to act on such ungodly desires. (3.2K)

warnings. minors, blank and ageless blogs do not interact ! nsfw, smut, pwp, college!au, religious imagery, step-cest, groping, fingering, ‘just the tip’, exhibitionism, clothed sex, male masturbation, slight degradation, bratty behaviour, use of oneesan, unprotected sex, ruined orgasms, cumplay, fem!reader, step-bro!gojo.

things to note. lol sorry it’s been a while !! trying a new layout also posting this into the void while i work on kinktober eee !! idk i’ve had a rough time trying to write a one shot so im glad i could make this !! special thanks to @kishibye for beta reading. i hope you enjoy this bestie boos ily <3

“what are you doing?” there’s a sharp edge to the tone of satoru’s voice, splayed across his tongue that holds back a stream of curses. his eyes speak fury in their piping hot flames of wild cerulean as he watches you enter the kitchen and shoot straight for the snack cupboard.

you can feel the weight of his gaze as it crosses the slopes of your body, from the back of your head, twirling around your curves before ultimately falling to your behind.

playing innocent, you stand on your tip toes and grasp at the bag of chips you’re after. the ones on the top shelf. “whaddya mean ‘what am i doing’?”

“what do you mean what do i mean?” your step brother retorts childishly, as if you’re two kids fighting on a playground at recess.

you click your tongue and pay him no mind. “don’t be such a baby, satoru,” you wave a hand in his face in a haughty manner. “use your big boy words.”

gojo suppresses a whine when your shirt rides up and reveals your skin to gorgeous eyes. he lets it gargle around in his throat like the sting of cool mouthwash, before striding over to you — grabbing the chips and slamming the cupboard shut so hard it makes you jump.

“you can’t just walk around dressed like that.”

he gestures to your get up — the clothes you wear when nobody’s home. your sapphire silly and scallop-edged panties, your old and ratty band t-shirt haphazardly thrown on.

“why?” you turn around to come face to face with your younger (step)brother, noting the way his stare hones in on the plush meat of your thighs as you squish them together — leaning back against the kitchen counter.

“my friends are coming over.”

“so, what’s the big deal?” there’s something about pissing gojo off that entertains you. he’s a brat by all means, raised with a silver spoon in his mouth and daddy’s dollars tucked into his pockets. whenever there’s a problem, all it takes is a classic ‘toru temper tantrum and your parents are on the scene to fix things for him. he’ll never know the hardships of being raised by a single mother, always having a little less than most. he walks around in his own little bubble of riches - and you can’t help but want to pop it. “shoko thinks i’m cool and geto will probably jack off to me later. it’s whatever.”

“but it’s not whatever,” you can practically see satoru fight the urge to stomp his foot like a petulant child — even going as far to have the audacity to pout down at you. “you’ll just embarrass me. so do us both a favour and put some clothes on, nobody wants to see all that ‘round the house.”

“do you own this house?”

“no but i-“

“but your daddy does. and daddy isn’t here! so shut up, satoru!” jabbing a finger into his chest, you smile up at your not-so-little little step-brother, evilly. “i make the rules.”

“oh fuck you. all you do is mooch off of my dad, princess. you wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for your mom whoring it out for him.” he sneers in response, upper lip curling into a distasteful snarl like a dog with a stranger on its territory. his words, though cruel and foul, are far from the truth and you know that he doesn’t mean it. satoru is a brat that throws acid laced words at anyone who gets in his way — yourself included.

even though you agree that your parents tied the knot all too fast — barely giving the two of you a chance to get to know each other as siblings. they were in love and far too happy for the rivalry between their children to get in the way. you know that the fact pissed gojo off to no end, he hated how your mother doted on him and how he’d always needed to fight for his father’s attention. now it certainly wasn’t ever going to be on him. but the two women in his house instead.

your poor, spoiled, baby brother.

however, you won’t let his words and how he projects onto you, hurt you. “whoops! looks like i dropped my will to give a fuck!” whilst pretending to drop your snack, you bend over in front of him to reveal inches of beauty marked and blemished flesh, drawing hungry seafoam eyes to the bounce of showing your ass — testing your little step brother. “i don’t care satoru, i’m older.”

satoru’s mouth snaps shut after moments of wordlessly opening and closing. he stands frozen on the spot, as if he can’t seem to process the very idea that his older step-sister had just flashed him to prove a point.

but just when you think you’ve won, the silver-haired brat is pressed right up behind you, forcing your body to bend over the cold marble counter that instantly has your nipples hardening against the icy surface. heat rushes to your face, blossoming just under the barrier of your skin as his hard on nestles it’s way between your ass cheeks — a symphony of your surprised squeaks echoing through the modern kitchen.

“hey! what the hell do you think you’re doing?”

instead of responding, he pushes your head down against the counter — circling his increasingly wet erection against your behind, manhandling the globes of flesh back onto his dick. “not so fun, is it.” he coos down at you, voice chilly and full of condescending highs and lows. “yanno…you’re awfully mean to me.”

saliva pools on your tongue, weighing it down in your mouth like a paperweight as satoru’s girth slips downwards, seedy tip brushing over panty clad and your swollen clit. “aren’t oneesan’s s’pposed to take care of their baby brothers?” his breath is hot and ragged against your ear as gojo haunches over you, caging you in like a wild animal as you thrash and writhe under his touch.

you can’t even bring yourself to feel an ounce of shame when gojo’s left hand dances between your tangled limbs and slips past the frilly band of your underwear — ghosting over the throbbing pearl laying between your sticky pussy lips. “step…step brother!” you whinge at the tingle of pleasure that blooms in your lower tummy and spreads like angel wings throughout the rest of your body. 

satoru takes turns playing with you, alternating between his nimble, skilled fingers and his seedy girth that smears precum all over your inner thighs and panties. “like that even fuckin’ matters.” he laughs, twisted and proud. “could you get off like this? yeah i think you could…. you’re already so wet. just from grinding on your little brother’s cock.”

your legs grow shaky at his ministrations, beads of your juices oozing from your empty entrance to stain the man’s sweats, slicking him up as if it’s a signature of your claim. “‘toru!” you gasp, eyes rolling back into the depth of your skull. “m-more.”

“look at how fast you fold for me…” he pushes up your shirt so that the fabric pools around your waist — pawing at the fat there, massaging your hips softly as if he isn’t violently, cruelly rubbing one out on your achey pussy. “i don’t think you’re in a position to ask me for more, big sis.” satoru taunts, a heavy hand coming down on the bare skin of your ass, leaving a raw handprint in its place. “such a nasty slut, i bet you’d let me fuck you like this too. out in the open, where anyone could catch us.”

you yelp in surprise at the feeling of gojo’s messy, cream coated cockhead nudge at your entrance from over your panties — a slender finger pulling the soaked material to the side so he can fuck you with his tip. “oh, i bet you’d like that, huh baby?” he continues to purr, jutting his hips forward ever so slightly — feeding your greedy cunt a few more inches of him. satoru’s barely sheathed inside of you, but you’re already stretching deliciously around what he’s given you. he’s fat, girthy just as he is long and his mushroom tip drags along sensitive spots in your walls you didn’t even know you had.

 he hasn’t even fucked you properly yet.

you sob, wail and writhe on your little step brother’s cock, nails clawing at the marble counter while your breath escapes you. “satoru, please fuck me. ‘m sorry… sorry—!”

“shh big sis, you’re being too loud,” he cups a hand over your mouth. gojo eases two digits past your plump lips to pacify your cries as he shallowly pumps his wet cock into the heat of your sex — gritting his teeth to hide his own moans. “we…fuck, you’re tight as shit… we wouldn’t want my friends to know that you dress like a slut for my cock, would we?”

you shake your head with a muffled moan, suckling the taste of yourself from gojo’s fingers and breathing heavily through your nose. “no, we wouldn’t. that’s right. good girl, oh shit.”

satoru laughs, a little cocky and a little drawn out in a long, whiny whimper over the wet slap of the backs of your thighs in the front of his own. but he trembles from behind you, like his legs are about to give out every time your creamy cunt sucks a little more of him in. it’s a miracle he’s managed to hold you both up.

guilt wracks your body intertwining with the red blood cells coursing through your veins and carrying limited oxygen to your brain — your head practically empty at how your little brother ruins you on half of his fat cock. this isn’t right, this is completely wrong and yet you feel yourself coming undone — weak in the knees and shaky in your lips, the dam in your lower tummy threatening to burst at any second and flood the room in an erotic river of your arousal. 

pushing your head off of the counter, you lean into satoru, throwing your ass back onto him in rhythm with the harshness of his thrusts. everything is hotter, heavier and you can’t even think about how much of a bad step-sister you are when he’s dominating your body like this. the silky locks of satoru’s silvering hair press against your shoulder and he wraps a fist in the fabric of your shirt to pull you further back onto his cock. 

“‘m gonna c-cum, oh god!” you squeal, flinching as your juices crudely slap against the kitchen floor. “i’m so close!”

he pants into your ear like a desperate dog, fully wrapping himself around you and trapping you against the counter so that you have nowhere to go except towards your high. “yeah?” gojo breathes heatedly, temperate breath cascading over the back of your neck and only adding fuel to your fire of desire. “i can tell, you get like this. all needy ‘n cute when you’re about to cum.” 

his words have you clenching around his bulbous tip every time it pushes up against the pleasure spots you didn’t even know you had — your arousal catching in the pretty blue veins that spiral around the length of gojo’s shaft. “you don’t think i can’t hear you, big sis? late at night when you think everyone’s sleepin’….” his whistle tone moans are quickly replaced by deep growls and grunts that only just manage to escape from between the gritted rows of your step brother’s pearly whites. “when you stuff those tiny fingers into that tight little hole and��“

he reaches down between your mess of slick soaked limbs to land a harsh smack against your quivering pussy, sending the foamy ring of white where your bodies join flying about the place. “—and make yourself cum to the thought of me?” he continues, breathing ragged and laughing at you again when you cry out in a mix of pain and pleasure. 

“s-satoru!”

he soothes you with quick circles over your swollen clit and kisses to your shoulder — being careful not to leave marks. “oh did that hurt, baby? am i  the mean one now?” licking a stripe up the side of your face and tasting the sweat on your glistening skin, satoru rambles on — filling you up with praises and copious amounts of precum. “you know i—fuck— you know i love you. my precious big sister, so fucking good to me. let’s make you cum, yeah?” 

you’re allowed to rut back on him for a little longer, since he loves the sound of his name whirling around messily on your tongue, all high-pitched and sugar coated for him. if only you knew how badly he’d wanted you, how pissed he was when his father went on to marry your mother. gojo has wanted you since the very first night you met — his every waking thought has been carefully carved to lust after you, think of your eyes, your smile, your lips. fuck, everything about you has satoru under some kind of spell. 

“r-right there. right there, t-there!” you chant the words like they’re the a prayer, as if they’re the only ones you know, allowing satoru to throw you through the loop of pleasure until you’re too far gone to stay on the ride. 

angling his slender hips upwards, his cockhead bares down on the gummy centre of your g-spot just has he buries himself inside of you — right up to the hilt. “h-here? this where you want me, big sis?” gojo’s amused gasp turns into a coo when you let out a meek hum of agreement, babling wild nonsense and drooling into the counter you’re pressed against. “mmhm, got you creamin’ around me already. so cute, so good when you listen. when you’re a good t’me, oneesan.” 

the honorific alone has your mouth running dry as if it’s been stuffed with cotton. though the syrupy pap, pap, pap of your sex says otherwise. it tells the truth of your sin.

and the thing that you don’t know about satoru is that he loves to give, feeding pieces of himself to you as he fucks you wild in the middle of your family kitchen. he wants you to have all of him, every corner and inch of his body just like he dreamed about. he knows it’s forbidden and that it’s wrong, but he can’t help but relish in the feeling of your pretty pussy sucking him in so selfishly, greedily clamping down on his thick base. 

he would give you anything. anything you wanted and asked for if you’d let him. his hands slip from your waist to intertwine with yours splayed out on the cool marble surface, using his last spurts of energy to drag you towards your orgasm and the deep depths of sinner’s paradise. 

“fuck me, fuck me, baby.” he growls possessively against the shell of your ear. “let go for me. lemme see how much you love your little brother—“

the crescendo of your pleasure is at an all time high, about to come crashing down on you like a tonne of heavy bricks. 

that is until the door bell rings, accompanied by the sound of geto’s voice from the outside of the house. “yoo, satoru! open up!” 

you’d think that you’d have been good enough for your little step-brother to keep going — to push onwards and let you cream all over him before he went to attend to his silly little friends. but he flips the script, pulling out of you just as you teeter over the edge to ruin your orgasm.

“no, no, please!” you sniffle, teary eyed with dissatisfaction sitting in your lower belly — the need to cum still there but the feeling of emptiness within your dripping walls taking over. “satoru…” you whine.

when you look behind you, he’s too busy finishing himself off — his black shirt between his teeth, sweats hanging low on his waist while gojo palms  his hard and heavy cock as he pleases. 

it’s coated in your arousal, shining under the artificial lighting in the kitchen and you watch with a pout as gojo jacks himself off to the view of your ruined cunt. he thumbs the seedy slit at the centre of his bright red tip, hissing through the sensitivity. he’s a picture perfect vision, appearing as an angel before your very eyes. a mop of halo white hair flop backwards with satoru’s head, rich sapphire eyes locked behind fluttering lashes that glisten with pearls of pleasure filled tears. 

you know not to be mistaken, you know that satoru is more like an incubus than the heavenly being he presents as. the parts of your brain with better judgement see him as the sinner who made you fall from grace, committing such a heinous act. the desperate side of you with a brain full of lust and smoke screens sees your step-brother as a god who controls all of your desires. 

you think you prefer that side of you more. 

meanwhile, a drop of sweat runs a track down the length of satoru’s neck, catching on the curve of his Adam’s apple as he swallows down his euphoric laments. you find yourself jealous that his own fingers are wrapped around his sloppy dick instead of drawing shapes against your aching clit. you envy how good it must feel for satoru when he finally cums. ropes of thick white sling around his knuckles, much paler in contrast to his pearlescent skin tone.

a deep, gravelly moan erupts from his hot mouth like lava, accompanied by curses and the stuttered syllables you recognise to be your name while he finishes himself off. gojo jerks his sensitive cock over your ass to paint you with the last spurts of his release. it’s a claim on you as your step-brother, a way in which he can show you that he always gets his way no matter what.

whilst still recovering, your step-brother drags a slender finger through the puddle of cum he’s left on you, and drags it down to your stretched little hole before pushing it against your overstimulated clit. “hmm, so pretty.” gojo grins, slow and sly, when you twitch and attempt to jolt away from him. then unexpectedly, he lands a hard smack against your bum — revelling in your sweet cry of pleasure, impatience and pain. “go put somethin’ on, will ya, sis? my friends are still waiting outside.” 

“i…i hate you.” you whimper shakily, brain frazzled from the situation. 

satoru might be a spoiled brat, but he’s not mean enough to leave you here a shaky, dripping mess so he helps you to your feet — tenderly fixing the hem of your shirt and panties back into place (failing to wipe his cum off of you beforehand). you’re still pouting from your ruined orgasm once he’s done, and he nudges the underside of your chin with a singular knuckle. 

“don’t worry big sis, i’ll come take care of you later. maybe i’ll even let geto watch since you love prancing around half naked for him too.” he teases, squishing your cheeks as you try to swat at him. “and you don’t hate me, you love me and this cock. clearly.” gojo sings and sends a cheeky wink in your before prancing away to open the door for his friends. 

he pulls his pants up as he goes, not minding the wet patch you’ve left on him. 

whereas, you scurry up to your room before they can greet you and gojo tells them that you’re feeling unwell. 

that day, you learn two valuable lessons: 

one —  never mess with a spoiled brat, it’ll never end well for you and gojo will always get what he wants no matter who pays the bills. 

two — geto really does like to jerk off to you, even more so when he watches his best friend punishes his older step-sister with enough orgasms to make her forget why she was in trouble with satoru in the first place.

꒰ end. — all rights reserved © tteokdoroki 2023. do not copy, repost, translate & recommend elsewhere.

[wholoveseggs]

Omg love your elijah stuff it's the best out there! Could you write a fluffy smut where the reader and elijah get married and she's still human and they plan for her to turn on their wedding night. But since she's about to become a vampire and knows elijah loves the taste of her the blood she has him drink from her during sex one last time and she drinks from him so after sex and aftercare his blood is in her system and he turns her then:)

Something Sweet

18+ ---- {Masterlist} {Tag-List}

It's the day of your wedding, a day you've dreamed about since you were young. Everything is exactly as you imagined it would be, except one thing. Today is not only the day of your wedding, today is also the day you die... And you never wanted anything so badly.

♡♡Thanks for the request lovely @sarah-bear706318! I made this one super fluffy♡♡

5.5k words - Warnings: smut, oral sex, so much flufffff, blood drinking, sappy Elijah, something old, something new, something borrowed, something blue...

♡♡ Tag-List ♡♡

Trying to fix my tags! I re-added all of you, and now you will be posted at the top! If you no longer wished to be tagged just shoot me a DM {I won't be offended} xoxo~

@gorgeouslydangerous @starkleila @lydia1369sworld @notleylaaa @vampiresluv @myanmy @xflowerbombxo @maryvibess @always-and-forever-daydreaming @criminallminds @rosemarypotion @spnaquakindgdom @amournoir @meeom @damienmorton @wickedmuse @sunkissedebony97 @idk00sblog @savannaounana @cs-please @complicatedandconfusing-25 @youcanhavemybuckanyday @akala6670229 @yeaiamme2 @itsjulzandmydiamonds @spideysbabe @witch-of-letters @elijahstwink @rosecentury @sekaishell @ziayamikaelson @amanda08319 @starshipcookie @li-da-savage @veggie-eggrolls @spideybv28 @loving-and-dreaming @fancycassie-stayfancy @hcqwxrtss123 @iamawkwardandshy

It was the day of your wedding and you were awoken by the birds chirping outside of your bedroom window. You rolled over to find your side of the bed empty and cold, a note from Elijah in his elegant handwriting.

My love,

I thought it best if I did not see you until the ceremony, as that is a tradition.

I have not been able to sleep. I am both excited and nervous for today, my beautiful wife. I will spend every waking moment cherishing you.

Elijah

You smiled to yourself as you read his words, imagining him pacing the floor as he wrote this, probably in the study or the library.

You pressed the note to your chest, you could hardly believe that you were getting married today. It was a day you had dreamed about since you were young. You had imagined what your wedding dress would look like, the flowers you would pick for the arrangement, how you would wear your hair. But now, none of that seemed important, the only thing on your mind was what came after the wedding.

Elijah would make you a vampire tonight, and then you would have eternity together.

He was still hesitant, even though you had insisted this was what you wanted. He worried that one day you would regret it, that you would hate him for it, that it would break the connection between the two of you.

But he was wrong, you knew it would only strengthen your bond. You loved him so much that it was impossible to put it into words. You would do anything for him, give him anything, including your life.

After a few moments of lying in bed and thinking of your handsome husband to be, you heard the sound of your bedroom door opening. In walked your three bridesmaids and your maid of honor, carrying a tray of delicious breakfast foods.

"Good morning, sleeping beauty!" Rebekah said, walking around the bed and placing the tray on the mattress in front of you.

"What are you still doing in bed?" Freya asked.

"Yeah, it's your wedding day! We have a lot to do!" Camille exclaimed.

You chuckled and sat up in bed, tucking the duvet over your legs. Hayley laid on the bed next to you, popping a bottle of champagne open and pouring four glasses.

"Everybody relax, we have lots of time," she said, handing you a glass. "Don't stress her out,"

Rebekah rolled her eyes and picked up a bag from the floor.

"We have some gifts for you, Mrs. Mikaelson," she teased.

"I'm not Mrs. Mikaelson, yet," you pointed out, taking a sip of the champagne.

"Oh please, the two of you act married already, he is the most whipped man I have ever seen," Rebekah said, sitting on the other side of the bed and passing a wrapped present to you.

You giggled at her comment, knowing it was true. You were a little surprised by how much he was willing to bend to your will. He was a stubborn man, but with you, he was a complete pushover. He told you once that he found it impossible to deny you anything, and that's how he knew you were the one.

You carefully unwrapped the gift and found a beautiful necklace, with a sapphire pendant, you held it up to the light, the rays bouncing off the gem and painting the walls of your room in blue light.

"It's beautiful," you said, smiling at the girls.

"It's something blue, from Freya," Rebekah explained, as Freya fastened it around your neck.

"I spelled it so you can always find each other, no matter where you are. So when you are away, you can always feel him close to you," she explained.

You were touched by her thoughtfulness, touching the stone as it rested against your chest. You couldn't explain it, but it did feel like him, like he was right beside you.

"Thank you, Freya," you said, squeezing her hand.

"Okay now mine!" Rebekah interrupted, holding her present out to you. "Something old,"

You grinned and took the large box from her, opening it to find a beautiful vintage corset, along with a matching set of lace underwear and stockings.

"Rebekah, these are gorgeous!" You said, running your fingers over the intricate designs.

"They're vintage, of course," she said, proudly. "Elijah is rather fond of that time period, I thought they might... inspire him," she added, winking.

You blushed, he didn't need any encouragement in the bedroom, you were certain of that.

"My gift is next," Hayley said, holding out her gift to you. "Something new, and I'm really sorry, but they aren't quite as classy as the last two," she said, nervously.

You took the bag and opened it, it was full of luxury naughty nightwear, baby dolls, bras, panties, a silk robe, all in different colors and fabrics. Along with a few sex toys and a pair of handcuffs.

"I had to get you something practical," she said, with a smirk.

"I love it, thank you," you said, giggling. "I will certainly put them to good use,"

"Okay now mine, it's something borrowed," Camille said, handing you a small box.

You opened the velvet box and found a gorgeous pair of diamond earrings, with a matching bracelet.

"Camille, these are beautiful," you breathed, examining the sparkling jewels.

"They've been in my family for a long time, they belonged to my grandmother," she explained, clasping the bracelet around your wrist.

You looked at your wrist and smiled, your friends were the most wonderful women you had ever met, they had been so welcoming and so supportive, and now here they were, giving you the best gifts ever.

"Thank you, all of you, so much. This has been the best morning," you said, pulling them all in for a group hug.

"More champagne!" Rebekah exclaimed, grabbing the bottle and topping up everyone's glass.

"We still have the day to go, I'm going to have a terrible hangover at my own wedding," you pointed out, taking a large sip anyway.

"Not for long," Rebekah said, a mischievous smile on her face.

The wedding party went quiet, everyone knew exactly what she was talking about, that Elijah was planning to turn you after the reception.

"It's really happening then, tonight?" Hayley asked, looking at you.

You nodded.

"How are you feeling about it?" She asked.

"A little nervous, I guess," you admitted. "But excited,"

"It's a big decision, are you sure you are ready for it?" Freya asked, putting her arm around you.

"Absolutely. I've never been more sure of anything," you said, without hesitation.

"You'll make a lovely one," Rebekah added, pulling you out of bed and to your feet.

"Come on, we have a lot to do, the hair and makeup people will be here in an hour, and I need to make sure you eat something first," she said, ushering you towards the bathroom.

"And then we can finally see this dress!" Hayley added, excitedly.

The five of you spent the rest of the morning in a flurry of activity, the girls made sure you ate and drank water, despite how much champagne was flowing. The hairdresser and makeup artist did wonders, and then finally, it was time for the dress.

You had put on the vintage corset and underwear, rolling up the stocking and clipping them in place. The girls helped you step into the gown, fastening the buttons up the back, before you stood in front of the mirror.

Rebekah started to cry and Freya and Camille put their arms around her, all of them staring at you.

"Are you okay, Bekah?" You asked, looking at her reflection.

She wiped her tears and sniffed. "He's going to faint when he sees you,"

The four of them laughed and you turned around, holding out your hands.

"Well, let's go get married,"

The music started as you entered the garden, and everyone stood, turning to look at you.

It was like a fairytale.

Your eyes were on Elijah the entire time, his eyes were a bit glassy and he was nervously playing with his hands. Klaus handed him a tissue, patting his shoulder and Rebekah hooked her arm in yours , guiding you down the aisle.

"No fainting yet," you whispered to Rebekah, making her giggle.

"I promise I will catch him if he does," she whispered back.

He held out his hand to you when you finally reached him and you took it, Rebekah handing your bouquet to Hayley.

"Hello," you whispered, looking up at him.

"Hi," he replied, smiling down at you, his brown eyes warm and loving.

"You look perfect," he said, softly.

"So do you," you said, grinning at him.

Klaus cleared his throat and began to speak.

"We are gathered here today, to join Elijah and Y/n in matrimony. They have both written their own vows, so Elijah, you may start,"

Elijah squeezed your hands and smiled at you, his eyes soft and full of love.

"My love, you are the one that I have waited centuries for. The one who brings light into my life. I love you so much, I will be forever grateful that I found you. I promise to spend every day of eternity showing you how much I love and cherish you. Thank you for agreeing to marry me, thank you for loving me," he said, his voice thick with emotion.

You felt tears in your eyes as he finished speaking, reaching up and brushing a tear away with his thumb. The crowd aww'd at his words, and the entire wedding party dabbed at their eyes with tissues.

"I'm afraid my vows are going to sound a little lame after that," you teased, making Elijah chuckle.

"Elijah," you began. "I have loved you from the moment I saw you. You have always been there for me, through good and bad, you have taken care of me, supported me, loved me. I know my heart is safe with you. You have always said you would give me the world, and I know you will, and I want to give you mine, for as long as I live,"

Elijah's eyes became glassy again and he took a deep breath, fighting back his tears.

"Do we have the rings?" Klaus asked.

You glanced down the aisle to see Hope toddling towards you, with a pillow in her hands. Everyone watched her and she reached you, proudly handing the rings to her uncle.

"Thank you, darling," Elijah said, ruffling her hair.

"You may exchange the rings," Klaus said, Hope was now clinging to his leg, watching the ceremony with fascination.

Elijah slipped the ring on your finger, and you did the same, looking down at the two silver bands. You realized that your ring had a lapis lazuli stone embedded in the metal, the one that would allow you to walk in the sunlight when you were a vampire.

"Elijah, do you take Y/n as your lawfully wedded wife, to love and cherish, until death do you part?"

"I do," he replied, staring deep into your eyes.

"Y/n, do you take Elijah as your lawfully wedded husband, to love and cherish, until death do you part?"

"I do," you said, unable to stop yourself from smiling.

"Well then, by the power invested in me by a monk in the 12th century, I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride,"

Elijah cupped your cheek in his hand, brushing his thumb over your cheekbone, before leaning down and pressing his lips to yours. His hands moved down your back, tilting you backwards, dipping you. The guests cheered and applauded, and the photographer snapped pictures.

"I love you," he said, whispering the words into your mouth.

"I love you, Mr. Mikaelson," you said, grinning.

He pulled you up, his eyes were bright, and his cheeks were flushed, his happiness radiating off him.

"Mrs. Mikaelson," he said, softly.

You kissed him again, the two of you wrapped in each other's embrace, his arms holding you tight against him.

"Let's get this party started!" Marcel yelled, causing a cheer from the crowd.

The two of you made your way back down the aisle, and back into the house. As soon as you were inside, you pulled Elijah in for a passionate kiss, wrapping your arms around his neck.

"We are married," you said, giggling.

"Indeed we are," he replied, smiling.

"Can't we skip the party, and just go upstairs now?" You asked, kissing him again.

"My greedy little wife," he teased. "Don't worry, tonight will be worth the wait,"

The compound was elaborately decorated, with lights and flowers hanging everywhere, and the guests were laughing and dancing, having a great time.

You sat at a table near the dance floor with your new husband, watching everyone. His hand was resting on your thigh, squeezing it gently every so often.

It was getting late, the sun had set and the guests were getting more and more drunk. The music slowed and the couples swayed together, some kissing and holding each other tight.

"So," Elijah whispered in your ear. "How are you feeling about tonight?"

"I can't wait," you said, turning to look at him. "I just can't wait for us to start our lives together,"

"Me either, sweetheart," he said, brushing his lips against your temple. "Are you sure this is what you want?"

"I want this." You placed a hand on his cheek. "More than anything."

He let out a long sigh, his hand squeezing your thigh tighter. But he didn't say anything else.

After a moment, he stood up and held out his hand.

"Dance with me?"

You took his hand and he led you out to the dance floor. You wrapped your arms around his neck and his hands rested on your hips.

The two of you danced slowly to the music, lost in each other's eyes.

"What are you thinking about?" You asked him, breaking the silence.

"Nothing." He replied, smiling softly, looking away.

You narrowed your eyes. "Don't lie to me, Mr. Mikaelson."

He chuckled. "Fine. I'm thinking about how beautiful you are, and how lucky I am."

"I'm the lucky one," you whispered, leaning in and kissing him softly.

The two of you continued slow dancing and you rested your head on his chest, listening to his heartbeat.

"I'm nervous," He admitted, softly his hands running up and down your back.

You lifted your head and looked up at him. "Why?"

"I don't want to see you die," He looked into your eyes, and you could see the pain behind them. "I don't want to watch the light leave your eyes, and not be able to do anything about it."

You cupped his cheek and stroked it. "I'll come right back, Elijah. You have nothing to worry about."

He nodded, then leaned in and kissed you, soft and slow. His hands on your hips, slowly guiding you, the two of you still moving to the music.

After a few minutes, he broke the kiss, pressing his forehead against yours.

"I don't think I'm capable of not worrying about you." He said, a soft chuckle escaping his lips.

"Well," You whispered, smiling up at him. "That's something we have in common, then."

His hands were on your lower back, his fingertips tracing patterns on the soft fabric.

"Do you remember when we met?" He asked, looking down at you.

"I do." You said, giggling. "It was the most cliché thing ever, but I remember it like it was yesterday."

"You were wearing a green dress." He recalled. "You were trying to get a book from the top shelf at this little bookstore. You had climbed onto a chair and were stretching your arm as far as you could, but you just couldn't reach it. And I thought, 'that's the most adorable thing I've ever seen'."

You laughed, remembering how flustered you'd been. "And then, I dismissed your attempt to help me as being creepy,"

"Until you tripped over your own feet and fell into my arms." He reminded you, a smirk on his face.

"You caught me, though." You whispered.

"That I did," he murmured. "And I will always catch you."

You stood on your tiptoes, kissing him softly. "I'm glad," you said.

His hands moved lower, grabbing your ass, and pulling you closer. You blushed and looked around quickly, but nobody seemed to be paying any attention to you.

"I remember something else about the day we met," he whispered in your ear.

You looked up at him and smiled. "What?"

"How you looked in my bed that night, the soft little moans you made," he teased.

You bit your lip, a wave of arousal washing over you. The memory still fresh in your mind.

"You have a way of making me lose all sense," you said, breathlessly.

"I know," he smirked, his eyes sparkling, "I've got you right where I want you."

You giggled, burying your face in his chest, breathing in his scent.

"You are so bad," you whispered.

He hummed in agreement, squeezing your ass once more, causing you to let out a little squeak.

"We should say goodbye to our guests," he murmured. "There is a car waiting,"

You nodded and let him guide you around, saying goodbye to all the guests. They followed the two of you out to the courtyard, and then they began throwing rice and rose petals, while the two of you got into the waiting car.

As the car drove away, the guests cheered and you couldn’t help the huge grin on your face, waving at them until they were out of sight.

Elijah's hand rested on your thigh, rubbing circles with his thumb. You rested your head on his shoulder, watching the city go by.

"So, are you going to tell me where we are going?" You asked, glancing at him.

"There's this lakehouse, about an hour from here. It's a quiet, private place, not even my siblings know about it." He said, pulling your hand into his lap.

"You didn't tell anyone about it?" You asked, a little shocked.

"Not a soul," he said, smiling. "I've had a few secret hideaways over the years, but this one is special."

"Why is that?" You asked.

"It's where I go to get away from everything, to clear my head and recharge," he explained. "And now, it's going to be our special place,"

"That's sweet," you said, kissing his cheek.

The drive seemed to take forever, but finally the car turned onto a long driveway. Elijah helped you out of the car, and then he scooped you into his arms.

"You are such a romantic," you said, giggling.

"I try," he teased, carrying you inside.

He set you down in the entryway, and then took your hand, leading you around. It was a gorgeous home, and it was obvious that Elijah had put a lot of work into it.

But he didn't give you much time to admire it, before he was on you, quickly dragging you to the bedroom.

His hands roaming your body, his mouth crashing onto yours, your arms wrapping around his neck, pulling him closer.

"Don't you dare rip my wedding dress Mr. Mikaelson," you breathed.

"Wouldn't dream of it," he murmured, his hands gently tugging the fabric.

You giggled and pushed him away, holding his gaze, then you turned and looked over your shoulder at him, motioning to the buttons going down your back.

His fingers deftly undid the small buttons, taking his time, as if he was savoring each one. He kissed along the back of your neck and shoulders, pushing the straps of the dress off, and letting it fall to the ground.

His hands went to your waist, helping you step out of the dress, and he knelt down, picking it up and placing it carefully on a nearby chair.

"Such a gentleman," you said, softly.

His gaze roamed over your body, admiring the way the lingerie clung to your skin, accentuating every curve.

"Gorgeous," he said, stepping closer, his fingers tracing along the boning of the corset.

Your hands went to his chest, reaching up to undo his bowtie. He watched your hands, his eyes darkening with desire.

You tossed the tie aside, and began unbuttoning his shirt. You leaned in and pressed a kiss to his lips, your hands continuing their path.

When you got to his pants, you stopped, a wicked grin spreading across your face. You ran your finger along his waistband, teasing him.

He groaned and picked you up, and you instinctively wrapped your legs around his waist, your arms around his neck.

In an instant you were on the bed, the speed of vampires never ceased to amaze you. You lay there, looking up at him, your hair fanning out around your head, and you couldn't help but grin.

"Will you teach me to do that?" You asked, referring to the vamp speed.

He chuckled, leaning down and kissing your cheek. "Of course, my love. I will teach you everything you need to know."

You smiled, then reached up and pulled him down, crushing your lips together. He pressed his hips against yours, and you could feel the bulge in his pants.

"What else can you teach me?" You whispered, biting your lip and looking into his eyes, trying to look all sweet and innocent.

He raised an eyebrow and smirked, his eyes darkening. "Lots of things."

You ran a hand through his hair, tugging lightly. "I can't wait."

He grinned and leaned in, capturing your lips in a bruising kiss. His hands moving all over your body, caressing and squeezing.

"But first I'm going to take this corset off." He said, his fingers trailing down your chest and finding the ribbons. "I'm going to untie it slowly, and then I'm going to kiss every inch of your skin."

You let out a small gasp, his words sending a wave of arousal through you. He pressed his hips harder against your hand, still working to slowly untie the first ribbon.

"I'm going to make you come all over my tongue," He said, his voice raspy and low, working on loosening the second ribbon, pulling it free. "Over," He tugged on the third, "And over," the fourth, "And over."

You moaned, his words making you dizzy, and he grinned, pulling the last ribbon loose.

The corset fell away, and Elijah quickly pulled it from you, tossing it aside. His hands were on your breasts immediately, his thumbs brushing over your nipples, causing them to harden.

He lowered his head, his tongue flicking out and swirling around one nipple, before sucking it into his mouth.

You were panting, your hands gripping the sheets, watching as he made his way down, slowly removing your panties. He kissed his way up your thighs, his eyes never leaving yours.

He looked up at you and smirked, then slowly lowered his head, groaning as he licked a broad stroke over your pussy.

You gasped, arching your back, pushing yourself closer to him. He chuckled, his hands gripping your thighs, pushing them further apart, his tongue teasing and licking at your clit.

You were in heaven. The sounds he was making, the way he was devouring you, it all felt incredible. You couldn't help the moans and whimpers escaping from your throat, only fueling him on.

You couldn't tear your eyes away from the sight of him between your legs, the way his gaze would meet yours sent a thrill through you. He looked so content and satisfied, his eyes hooded, his tongue working you expertly.

He suddenly slipped a finger inside you, curling it against your walls, searching for that sweet spot. When he found it, he smirked, picking up the pace of his tongue lapping at your clit.

You came undone in seconds. Your walls clenched around his finger and your back arched, crying out his name.

He lifted his head, staring up at you, his eyes black. He licked his lips and winked at you, two of his fingers still pumping in and out of you.

He looked down at your flushed face and swollen lips, watching your body coming down from your high. You were always so beautiful after an orgasm. He could always coax these little spasms out of you afterwards, making you moan even more.

"I love you." He whispered. "My perfect wife."

With a wicked smirk, he slid a third finger in, curling against your g-spot, a delighted squeak escaping your lips as you squeezed his fingers.

"I can't wait to spend eternity with you," He said, his voice slow and gruff, the pleasure overwhelming you. "Watching you come like this, every night."

He continued to pump his fingers, with firm and steady strokes, the pressure building and building. Your body began to tense again, your moans becoming louder and more desperate. He grinned, watching you fall apart for him.

Your body started to shake, the waves of pleasure hitting you again and again, as you came on his fingers. He captured your lips in a rough kiss, swallowing your moans.

You collapsed on the bed, breathing heavily, the aftershocks still rolling through you. Elijah leaned down and kissed your neck, nuzzling against you.

"My wife," he said, savoring the way it sounded.

You giggled, still feeling a bit floaty. You looked up at him, taking in the sight of him. He was so handsome, his dark hair slightly disheveled, his eyes shining with love and affection.

"My husband," you said, reaching up and brushing some hair out of his eyes.

He smiled, his hands tracing along your bare skin. "You don't have to turn tonight, if you're not ready,"

You shook your head, smiling. "No, I want to. I'm ready."

"Are you sure?" He asked, his voice full of concern.

"Eli," you said, cupping his cheek. "I'll be okay,"

His expression turned a bit serious, his eyes flashing with worry.

"You're my whole world, I won't lose you," he said, kissing you deeply.

"You won't lose me," you said, softly.

"Promise?" He asked, his hand moving to your cheek, stroking it gently.

"I promise," you said, your heart fluttering.

He gently pushed your legs apart, his fingers stroking your thigh, the touch sending sparks through you.

"I will never let anything happen to you," he said, positioning himself between your legs.

"I know," you said, gasping when you felt him ease into you, slowly and gently.

"I love you," he said, leaning down and kissing your lips, as he began to move his hips, pushing himself deeper. "More than anything,"

"I love you, too." You gasped, wrapping your legs around him, pulling him closer.

One of his hands went to the small of your back, the other cradling behind your neck. He held you to him, forehead to forehead, his eyes boring into yours.

He rocked his hips, grinding against you, filling you completely. His thumb brushed across your lower lip, then his lips pressed against yours, whispering how much he loved you.

You felt as though your heart beats were the same, the way it was pounding in your chest, in time with his. The way he held you like this, close and tight, it was everything.

The heat and friction began building between you, his thrusts becoming deeper and harder. The air filled with the sounds of your moans and sighs, your bodies moving together.

You could feel another orgasm building, your breath coming in short, ragged pants. He seemed to sense this, his pace picking up, his eyes locked on yours.

"I want you to come with me," he said, his voice husky and low, as his hips drove into you, over and over.

"Yes," you whimpered, your fingers digging into his back, leaving crescent moon marks in his skin.

Together, you let go, your bodies trembling and shuddering, clinging to each other. He buried his face in your neck, groaning, his teeth scraping your skin.

You lay there for a few moments, holding each other, your breathing slowly returning to normal. His lips were still against your neck, his arms wrapped around you.

"Elijah?" You asked, hesitantly.

"Mmm?" He mumbled, not wanting to move.

"I know how I want to die," you said, quietly.

He pulled back, looking at you. ". . . You do?"

You nodded, chewing your bottom lip, you weren't sure if he would be willing to do this for you.

"I want you to drink from me," you said, softly.

His eyes widened, a look of shock on his face.

"I mean, only if you're okay with it. We can find a different way... You can just snap my neck like we originally planned... I just thought...," you said, quickly, starting to ramble.

He cut you off with a deep, passionate kiss.

"Are you sure?" He asked, once the kiss broke.

You nodded, a shy smile on your face.

"Absolutely."

"Alright, but if it gets too much, tell me. We can always stop," he said, his hand resting on your cheek.

"Okay," you said, nodding.

He sat up, leaning against the headboard, pulling you into his lap. His hands on your hips, he didn't move for a moment, just looked at you, a gentle smile on his lips.

"I'm ready Elijah... I want this," you said, cupping his face, and brushing your lips against his.

He kissed you softly, with pure tenderness and love. He looked into your eyes, and you could see the conflicting emotions running through him. Fear, happiness, sorrow, joy.

You stroked his cheek, reassuring him.

"I love you," he said, biting down on his wrist and bringing it to your lips.

"I love you, too," you whispered, taking his blood into your mouth, his free arm wrapping around your waist.

His wrist fell away, and he tilted his head, pressing his lips to yours. Then, he kissed a trail down your neck, stopping right over the vein.

You could feel the sharpness of his fangs, his mouth ghosting across your skin. His hands moved to your back, rubbing it soothingly. He was still hesitating.

Your hands gripped his chest, preparing for the sting of pain, the dark shroud of death that awaited you.

His fangs sank into you, and your body jerked. But the pain was fleeting, as the pleasure began to take over. His hands moved up and down your back, pulling you closer, his mouth working over the bite.

He was so gentle, and tender, the way he was holding you, caressing you. It made your heart swell with love, as the blood flowed from you.

He drank slowly, savoring the taste of your blood, listening to your heart beating slower, your breathing becoming shallower.

He could feel your life force slipping away, the blood no longer rushing through your veins. He felt an almost uncontrollable fear, and he had to fight the urge to let go.

You began to drift away, darkness creeping around the edge of your vision. Your eyes fluttered shut, your heart skipping a beat, before it came to a complete stop.

He pulled his mouth away, and pressed his forehead to yours, his tears falling on your face.

He let out a choked sob, the anguish of losing you was too much. He knew you would return, but in this place of nothingness, the void, it was all too real.

Your body was cuddled into his, your head resting in his shoulder, the wound on your neck still oozing blood.

He closed his eyes, and focused on the future, of all the things he would teach you. The places he would take you. The adventures you would have.

He was going to make the most of this eternity with you.

It didn't take long for your heart beat to return, or for you to stir. Your eyes opened slowly, blinking against the light.

"Eli?"

He pulled you closer, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

"Welcome back," he said, smiling.

You returned his smile, snuggling against him, and sighing.

"How do you feel?" He asked, his arms tightening around you.

"Hungry."

He laughed, stroking your hair. "I have just the thing for that,"

You nodded, sitting up, and looking at him. He looked tired, his eyes rimmed with red, his hair tousled.

"Have you been crying?" You asked, gently.

He nodded, looking a little embarrassed.

You kissed him softly, wrapping your arms around his neck.

"It's alright, my love. I'm here, and I'm not going anywhere," you whispered, pressing your forehead to his.

"Good," he said, letting out a shaky breath.

He held you, his hands stroking your back, your hair.

You lay there for a while, in the safety of his arms, before he pulled away, and smiled at you.

He reached for a blood bag he had gotten ready, and handed it to you. You tore into the bag, and drank deeply. You hadn't realized how thirsty you were, until you tasted the blood. It was sweet, and thick, and it was exactly what you needed.

He watched your eyes turn black, dark veins snaking underneath them, and smiled. You were beautiful.

When you were done, he tossed the bag aside, and wrapped his arms around you again.

"So, what happens now?" You asked, your eyes searching his.

"We live.”

[arc-misadventures]

Morning. For the Friends Au it appears that Winter is trying to reach out to Jaune... and maybe he sees it and it's confusing him as to why.

Does her each out to Saphron and Terra, and seek their advice?

On a side note, great series. Looking to further posts as you have time.

Specialist J.A.

Winter: Specialist Jaune Arc. It has a nice ring to it. Don't you agree?

Jaune: It has a bit of ring to it... But, it's not as special as you're making it sound.

Winter: You should be proud, Jaune: You're the youngest person to ever be accepted as a, Specialist, and the first person of none, Atlasian descent to become one. So, take pride in your accomplishments, Jaune.

Jaune: Okay, being the first none, Atlasian to join the, Specialist doesn't sound like that much of an achievement. But, am I really the youngest member?

Winter: Oh yes, I was twenty when I joined, most others, Specialist were around twenty one as well when they joined. You are nineteen years old; You are the youngest member to ever join the, Specialist!

Jaune: Wait really...? Wait, twenty? Does that mean you're around twenty three then?

Winter: Careful, Arc... You should know better than to ask a lady her age...

Jaune: I-I-I'm sorry! I've just been curious how old are!

Winter: And, why do wish to know that?

Jaune: I was just curious!

Winter: Curious...?

Jaune: Yeah. You have this ageless beauty about you, Winter. So, I've always been curious.

Winter: Ageless beauty...?

Winter: Ahem! So... So what do you think of your new uniform?

Winter changed the topic as she looked away from, Jaune hiding a faint blush threatening to spread across her face. Meanwhile, Jaune looked at his reflection taking in his new, Specialist uniform.

It wasn't what, Jaune had expected, but he loved it nonetheless. It was similar to the uniforms to the rest of the, Specialist work as in style.

Jaune's uniform was more of a long sleeve sweater than a dress shirt. A zipper ran up the middle of it to the high collar. A sleave that ran over zipper to connect to a series of buckle buttons on the side. The front was a vibrant white with red stripes running along the side. The rest was the vibrant deep blue that was commonly found on, Atlasian uniforms.

His blue denim jeans had been replace with black combat cargo pants, giving him extra pockets to store necessary supplies. His boots had also been chaged for more modern combat boots, rather than the surplus boots, Ruby tends to wear. He found the boots quite nice, there was space in the boots he could fit something like a knife in it, perhaps her should do something like that.

Jaune: I didn't expect the blue would fit me so well. I know the red, and white suit me. But, I was never sure of the blue.

Winter: The blue is quite fetching on you; it matches your eyes quite well.

Jaune: Really? T-Thanks...

Winter: Your welcome. So, how does your armour feel?

Jaune: Mmmm... It feels a little tight; I think I need to ask one of the armourers to readjust it for me.

Winter: I see... Well, you can ask the armourers to resize it for you, that shouldn't be a problem for them. In fact, they could forge you new armour if you want.

Jaune: New armour? I know my armour is pretty good as it is, but would I be able to get some of that, Paladin Armour plating if I asked?

Winter: Hmmm...?

Winter: That’s a possibility… You'll have to ask about it.

Jaune: Okay, I'll ask them to remake, Crocea Mors then... It's probably best if I ask for, General Ironwood’s permission first. I suspected considering the metal this is used for your, Paladins its restricted from personal use.

Winter: While I'm not sure about that myself. But, I'm sure he'll agree to it, at least he may eventually let you do that. Once you prove your worth to, Atlas.

Jaune: That's fair. He's already upgraded my gear as is. It feels a little greedy of me to ask for another upgrade.

Winter: So, everything alright with your new uniform, Jaune?

Jaune: My armour is a little snug, but everything else is just fine. But, what's with this sash?

Jaune pulled out a deep rich crimson sash with a white snowflake pattern on the edge of it. Jaune looked at the beautiful needle work before staring at, Winter. She looked away as a small blush crossed her face.

Jaune: Winter?

Winter: I uhh... I got you a gift...

Jaune: A gift?

Winter: Yes, a gift to celebrate you're joining the, Specialist core. I would have gotten you something else, but I wasn't sure what... what you would like...

Jaune ran his thumb across the sash marveling on the smooth fabric, and the intricate detail woven into the snowflake.

His mind wondered at the red sash, he wore, Pyrrha's stash as a memento of her, the gold of his armour was also from her. He worse it keep her close to him. But, maybe...?

Winter: Do you... Do you like it, Jaune?

Jaune's mind was running until he saw a flash of red, and gold in his eyes, his eyes moved up to see the ghost of, Pyrrha looking at him. A smile spread across her face as she nodded her head, and gestured to the sash. Jaune's eyes darted to the crimson sash in his hands before looking back at, Pyrrha, and realizing she was gone.

Jaune smiled as his hands reached down, and grab the sash before wrapping it around his waist. Jaune looked down at the sash, then at it in his reflection. He nodded his head before turning to look at, Winter with a smile on his face.

Jaune: Thank you, Winter, it's beautiful.

Jaune hand pulled on the sash to move it so it ran parrel with his hip, while he was fiddling with it, Winter stepped forward, and readjusted it so it would look better.

Winter: Oh thank goodness... I was worried you wouldn't like it. I rarely get presents for my siblings, I've never gotten one for someone else so I was really... worried...

Winter's rambling was cut short as she finished adjusting, Jaune's sash before standing back up staring directly into, Jaune's cerulean blue eyes, their faces mere centimeters apart.

Jaune: I uhhh...

Winter: Y-Yes...?

Red slowly creeped across their faces before the game of chicken was called to the end as the both turned away,. Brushing away their blushes in the process.

Winter: S-So... did... Did you tell your teammates about you're appointment to the, Specialist's?

Jaune: Uhh... no.

Winter: Do you plan to?

Jaune: They'll find out eventually. Just like when I learned that they forgot to invite me to, Ruby's birthday party the other day.

Winter: What? They did, when?

Jaune: They texted me my invitation when I was about to talk to, General Ironwood about me becoming a, Specialist.

Winter: The message you said was from, 'no one important.'

Jaune: Yep, that one.

Winter: You don't see them as anyone important in your lives now do you?

Jaune: Just returning the favour...

Winter: I see. Well then... Specialist Arc!

Jaune: Sir!

Winter: Are you ready for your first mission as a, Specailst?

Jaune: Yes, Sir!

Winter: Good! You will follow me to the cafeteria where we, Specialist will be holding your initiation!

Jaune: Yes, Sir. May I ask what this incitation process will be, Sir?

Winter: Yes, to survive, Marrows cooking!

Jaune: ...

Jaune: Eh?

Winter: The incitation is just a simple welcome party with food, drink, and cake that we, Specialist have. We're expected to each bring in our own food, hand crafted, or store bought. Marrow insists on bringing his family's chili recipe.

Winter: It taste terrible...

Jaune: Chili? Well... now I'm worried about the surviving bit... Should I bring something?

Winter: If you want to, but you're the guest of honour you don't have to.

Jaune: Why don't I cook something edible then. Something we can all enjoy.

Winter: You can cook?

Jaune: Seven sisters, and not a chef among the lot of them.

Winter: Well then, I'm looking forward to whatever it is you plan to make.

Jaune: When is the party?

Winter: This evening around six.

Jaune: That give me... five hours. I can whip up something nice by then. I best get to it. But, I'm going to change first. Don't want flour on my new uniform now.

Winter: I'll see you later then.

Jaune: till later then.

Winter soon made her way to the exit as, Jaune started unbuckling his armour. As the door opened, Winter stopped to say one last thing to, Jaune.

Winter: Oh, and Jaune...?

Jaune: Yes?

Winter: You... You don't need to call me, Sir, or Specialist Schnee... Just call me, Winter, okay?

Jaune: Okay... Winter...

Winter: Thank you~!

Winter smiled a sweet smile as she left, leaving, Jaune behind dumbfounded as he nervously swallowed.

Jaune: Shit...

Jaune: She does like me...

[sundrop-writes]

Push and Pull

Emily Prentiss x Fem!Reader

Summary:

While playing games with Viper, Emily (accidentally) plays on your attraction to her - something you had been trying to hide since you started with the BAU. The results end up being more than interesting.

Emily Prentiss x Fem!Reader - Co-Workers to Lovers. Smut, Sexual Tension.

Word Count: 2,800 words

Criminal Minds Masterlist | AO3 Link

THIS IS A RE-POST. This is a fic from my old blog (a blog that was shadowbanned, forcing me to move). This fic is not stolen, it is completely mine, and I am just re-posting it to help people find my new blog, and to make my masterlist complete when I post new fics for this fandom.

Detailed warnings and author’s notes below the cut.

Warnings: smut; this is set during Season 4, Episode 9 (52 Pickup) and there is a lot of references to the episode in this, but I think you could read this without having seen the episode; mentions of typically sexist practices - in the form of ‘pickup artistry’: the reader character replaces Jordan Todd on the team; there is an age gap between Emily and the reader - Emily is older and the reader character is younger; the reader character uses she/her pronouns and has a vagina; mention of the reader wearing a dress and makeup; the reader has sexual fantasies about Emily - which include: pussy eating, fingering, rough sex, semi public sex, being called 'naughty girl’; most of the sex acts are in fantasies (this fic is mostly tension and build up and sexually adjacent situations rather than actual sex); masturbation (the reader masturbates); mentions of masturbation being unsatisfying or not feeling 'as good’ as having sex with the desired partner; caught masturbating - Emily walks in on the reader; Emily refers to herself as 'Mama’ (once); rough kissing, Emily gropes the reader through clothing, very light choking (from Emily toward the reader) (Emily puts her hand on the reader’s neck and applies pressure for a few seconds to get her attention), Emily calls the reader 'needy little thing’ (in this case the word 'little’ is meant to be condescending and not a description of size); undertones of degradation kink; I believe that is everything.

A/N: This was based on a request, and the original request mentioned fake dating (and I would love to do that trope with Emily), but I couldn’t stop thinking about how stunning and gorgeous Emily looks in this episode, and I thought it would be interesting to use it. Also the idea of a man basing his pickup techniques on women needing male validation when - hey, what kind of women wouldn’t want or need male validation? A woman who is obsessed with the other gorgeous woman at the table. It was such a fun scenario to write about. I definitely wanna write more Emily fics in the future.

...

At first, you really weren’t looking forward to it. 

Though it seemed fun in concept - having an excuse to dress up and go out to a club while on the job - Emily assured you that it was going to be miserable. 

The way Emily talked about the man - Viper. She almost made him sound worse than some of the confirmed killers you had dealt with during your short time at the BAU. She said that he was the scum of the earth, a waste of oxygen, that made her feel dirty just by giving her a weird look. She joked that she was ‘dragging you along’ because she didn’t want to suffer alone (that, and she needed backup, in case the guy truly was dangerous). 

From the way she talked about it, you thought the night was going to be miserable. 

You certainly didn’t expect it to be one of the best nights of your life. 

Viper frequented bars and nightclubs. So of course, nightclub appropriate attire was required. You rushed to a store and grabbed the first tight dress you could find (a red one with spaghetti straps that would pair well with a pair of modest black heels you already had in your bag for the job). You didn’t expect to come back and see Emily getting changed into a clingy black dress that fit her like sin, her makeup subtle but smokey. 

You had been actively suppressing your attraction to her, a gorgeous older woman, since you had joined the BAU a month ago. You told yourself that you could keep your lustful feelings under control because you would only be there temporarily, to replace their usual media liaison - who was on maternity leave. But seeing her dressed up like this, it certainly didn’t help with that suppression. 

Things only got worse when you got to the club and Viper descended upon the two of you. (You quietly whispered to Emily that his name should have been Vulture and the soft laughter she let out had your insides fluttering.) 

Turns out, Emily had been paying extra attention to the ‘push and pull’ technique that Reid had talked about. And even though you knew that it was just in the name of messing with the cocky man - you fell hook, line, and sinker for Emily’s combatants of this technique. 

See, rather than letting him push and pull the two of you - compliment one of you and leave the other one reeling for validation, Emily complimented you herself. She never let Viper leave room for you to need that validation. Not that you would ever need it from someone like him. But she certainly threw him off with this tactic. 

She supported you, focused far more of her attention on you than she did on him. The two of you never fell to the traditional ‘women in constant competition’ market that his techniques were built on. If she put far more of her focus on you and actively ignored him (or even not-so-subtly insulted him), then what could he do? 

Women not vying for his attention? It was a curveball for the ages. 

Clearly, he had no backup plan. He was struggling to keep up. 

If he called your dress cheap, Emily said how well the fabric complimented your amazing body. If he said your mascara was clumpy and poorly done, Emily said your eyes were naturally beautiful and shined bright without makeup anyway. 

The more annoyed it seemed to make him, the more she fawned over you. 

And it left you staring at her all night. Captivated by her beauty, her silky voice. You barely even knew that he was there as she laughed at him, engaged in his silly games, taunted him. 

By the time you left the club, you were almost high on the affection Emily had given you. 

The rest seemed to go by in a blur. The real killer was caught at a different club, and the team retired back to their hotel to get some rest before returning home. As you and Emily walked back to your shared room, you were still laughing and joking about the pathetic man who somehow made his living off of scamming men more pathetic than him. 

“And did - did you see the look on his face when I said ‘you probably go home alone, don’t you?’ - Like he - he couldn’t believe that I wasn’t falling for his BS,” Emily said, stuttering through her words as hardy laughter disrupted her speech. 

“It’s like he’s never met a confident woman in his life.” You replied, a delicate chuckle in your voice. 

It was a subtle compliment toward Emily, admiring her confidence in how well she had dealt with the scummy, overly cocky man. 

“No, not quite.” Emily sighed, using the keycard to open the hotel room door. 

Your insides fluttered even more when she held the door open for you. You couldn’t help but enjoy the domestic feeling behind it as you brushed past her body in order to get inside. 

Of course, she wasn’t even paying attention to the dreamy, starstruck look on your face as she continued speaking. 

“He’s never approached a confident woman before.” She quickly corrected, letting the door fall shut and click locked behind her. “He’s never approached a woman he thought he couldn’t con.” 

“And for some reason he dared you to ‘meet him on his turf’?” You questioned, repeating the words she had told you, when ranting about the previous interaction she had with the awful man. “You, of all people?” 

You had to wonder what about Emily Prentiss would come off as even slightly insecure or - what about her said that she would fall for his stupid tricks. In your opinion, it was like trying to outrun a cheetah using a tricycle. 

“Yeah, I guess he was counting on me being drunk and blinded by all his guyliner.” Emily joked, tossing her bag down onto one of the twin beds. 

You collapsed down onto the other bed with intense laughter. The joke itself was funny, but her delivery, her confidence, and her smile caused a spark through you that forced you to laugh off the tension before you jumped her bones. You had to be professional. You had to keep reminding yourself of that. 

“I call the bathroom first.” She announced. “I really need a shower after being drowned in Drakkar Noir all night.” 

You had to ignore the dryness in your throat and the heat between your thighs at the thought of her in the shower. Previously, it was something your mind could have easily glossed over, but after she spent the night fawning over you and capturing your attention completely, it was like you were a horny teenager again. Now all you could think about was her completely naked, droplets of hot water rolling across her skin, surrounded by steam. 

You had to pull yourself together. You had to be professional, for fuck’s sake. 

“But of course.” You told her, giving a smile and a nod. You motioned toward the bathroom, as if presenting it to her in a gentlemanly fashion. “I’ll probably just shower in the morning.” 

Emily nodded in acknowledgement of this, and there was no further conversation. 

This left your mind reeling, your body entirely tense and hyper aware of her every movement as she got ready. You had to busy yourself with grabbing your pajamas out of your own bag - an oversized X-Files tee shirt and a pair of comfortable cotton shorts - while she grabbed her toiletries bag and went into the bathroom. 

The water turned on and you tried your hardest not to think about her undressing and stepping under the stream as you changed into your pjs. You tried your hardest not to think about her tight, fit body relaxing under the steam. You tried your hardest not to think about soft bubbles rolling across her soft, pale skin. 

Clearly, you were failing. Failing not to think about her. Failing miserably when it came to suppressing your attraction for her. 

By the time you climbed into bed, there was a hard, hot pain between your thighs. 

You wanted so badly to simply roll over and go to sleep. You wanted to ignore it. But a very large part of you worried that if you didn’t ‘take care’ of that nagging arousal, then you wouldn’t be able to sleep. And if you didn’t sleep and you rolled into the next day with this attraction to Emily still at the forefront of your mind - then you wouldn’t be able to act normal around her for the travel day home tomorrow. You might say or do something stupid. 

You had to do something. 

The longer you laid there in bed, unconsciously squeezing your thighs together, feeling your pussy throbbing between them - thinking about Emily’s head being trapped between your legs - the more it bothered you. 

You had some time while she was in the shower, right? You could be quick. Of course you could. And if you heard the water turn off, you would simply stop. 

Before any true logic could catch up between your ears, a hand was sneaking below the waistband of your shorts. That hand easily went inside your underwear and found a natural place on your throbbing clit. You dipped down into your wetness (leaking out of you abundantly from how much you had been thinking about Emily) and slicked up the hot button before you began rubbing it in hard circles. You were determined to cum quickly and be done with it. 

You closed your eyes and tiled your head back against the pillow, your mind drifting back to her once again. You couldn’t stop thinking about how perfect she looked in that ruby lipstick. All night, you had felt jealous of the glass when she brought her drink up to her lips. 

You imagined her approaching you at a bar. 

You would be out by yourself, and she would see you from across the room. So entirely confident, she would see you and in a moment, know that she could have you. 

She would come up behind you, whisper sweetly in your ear, telling you how perfect you looked. She would smirk at your initial shyness when you giggled at the compliment. She would tell you that she couldn’t wait to get you home - that she wanted you and she wanted you now. 

So she would pull you into a bathroom, pinning you against a counter. And then she would shove her hand under your dress, only to find that you weren’t wearing any panties, just for her. She would scold you, call you a naughty girl. Her voice so sweet and condescending, only making you wetter. And then she would shove her fingers into your slick cunt and shove her other hand over your mouth, trying in vain to keep your whorish moans from being heard as you begged for her. 

“Emily, please,” You couldn’t stop the faint, needy moan that escaped you as you got lost in the fantasy. 

Of course, so lost in it, that you didn’t hear the shower turning off. 

Your pussy ached, leaking freely into your underwear, and your clit throbbed, emanating a needy pain out through your pelvis. You worked your fingers in more frantic circles, doubling down. Your hips canted up off the bed, knocking the covers off you slightly as dull pleasure radiated out across your hips. 

(Dull compared to what Emily would have given you, you were sure.) 

Even if it was unsatisfactory, you were close. 

“Emily-!” You cried out desperately, right on the edge of orgasm. 

“Hey, do you have some makeup remover I can borrow? I forgot-” 

Shock cascaded through your system and you instantly stilled your movements. This caused your orgasm to become a low hum in your pelvis once again as your eyes shot open in disbelief. 

Your gaze locked onto Emily where she stood in the bathroom doorway. Your insides were still with shock - embarrassment or any other emotion hadn’t even caught up yet. 

Steam ploomed around her and she was forced to hold up the hotel towel with one hand as it couldn’t fully wrap around her body, leaving a sliver of her skin exposed from her armpit to her knee - the curve of her breast, her waist, and her hip on full display. With her hair soaked and her bangs slicked back from her face, and true to what she had said, her makeup still on but slightly smudged from the shower - she looked utterly delicious. 

She was like a pornographic dream, live in front of you. 

You let out a quiet whimper at the sight. 

It was only then that your brain began to unfreeze from the shock, and you realized how truly incriminating you looked. The covers pooled around your thighs, your hand quite visibly inside your shorts, your face contorted with pleasure as your eyes scanned over her half naked body. You rushed to rip your hand out of your underwear - and you realized the sight wasn’t much better as your fingers glistened in the light. 

Emily’s eyes moved from your glistening fingers to your stiff, nervous body, your thighs still parted (as it would be too uncomfortable to clamp them down on your wet underwear and aching cunt). She smirked at you. She looked at you with the same devious, cocky expression that Viper had started out the night with - before she had taken him down notch by notch. 

The look alone caused any apology to be stuck in your throat. You waited for her to speak before you made any moves. 

“What were you thinking about?” She asked, her voice breathy, soft, yet entirely commanding. 

In that moment, caught in the smoldering gate of her eyes, you could find nothing but honesty pounding inside of your chest. 

“You.” You whined quietly. 

Emily chuckled gently. 

Your stomach twisted with embarrassment for the split second that you thought she might be laughing at you. But then you realized that it was, in fact, a sound of satisfaction. 

That realization hit you when she dropped the towel completely. She stood in front of you proudly, showing off all of her naked, wet glory. Her dark nipples pebbling in the air, the damp sheen of water making her skin glow like a dewy goddess. Quite obviously, she wanted you to look.

Your eyes traced a few thick droplets of water as they escaped her hair and ran down her body. You became absolutely mesmerized by the way gravity pulled the water over her collarbones, the teardrop curve of her breasts, the plushness of her stomach, across her pelvis, down her thighs. You imagined yourself tracing over those exact lines with your tongue. 

“Come to me.” 

Her silken voice snapped you out of your trance. Your eyes shot back up to her face once again, and in the sluggish moment that it took the words to get to your brain, she added something onto the command that absolutely knocked the wind out of you. 

“Come on. Come to Mama.” 

Her calling herself that name, so self assured, so certain - the phrase almost had you down on all fours, crawling to her like a dog. 

But instead, you scrambled to get upright and practically ran across the room to her on shaking legs. Entirely eager, you stood in front of her and leaned in to press your mouth against hers. Naturally, you expected that the interaction would start with a kiss. 

But she quickly reached up and stopped you with a hand on the side of your neck. You let out a harsh whimper of disappointment - one that quickly turned into a moan when she pressed her thumb into your windpipe with just enough pressure to make your brain go fuzzy. 

She was showing you who was in charge. 

“Not so fast,” She told you, her breath cascading against your lips now. 

Although she was completely naked and you were clothed, it was very apparent that she was the one in complete control. 

“Tell me how badly you want it.” She ordered, her voice low and almost gentle - a soft domineering that caused the hairs on your arms to stand up straight. 

“I want it so badly,” You easily replied, your voice intensely needy. “I need it. I need you, Em.” 

Emily reached up with her other hand and - with no warning - harshly gripped your pussy through your underwear and shorts. This caused sharp shocks of arousal to flow through you, making you moan out weakly. It was a dizzying euphoria that had you bucking into her hand. You almost came from that single touch alone. 

“Needy little thing.” She purred. “I am gonna have so much fun with you.” 

This was her last verbal sentiment before she pulled you forward by that hand on your neck and silenced any further moans with a bruising kiss.

...

A/N: This is a standalone oneshot, so there will not be a sequel or a continuation of it. If you enjoyed the fic, please comment about the body of work that has been written here. And if you like my writing style, please check out my Criminal Minds Masterlist or my other Masterlists for other fandoms.

[cryptidghostgirl]

I had this though on a cute little one shot for Alastor x chubby reader in the hotel I was wondering if you would like to run with it? Where the reader gets some nail varnish that matches their lip color without thinking about it. Alastor becomes rather fond of them wearing the color and eventually it vanishes after Angel points out that it’s almost the exact same color as the reader’s lips.

The reader ends up pouting a bit over it because they can’t find it anywhere in stores anymore. They ask Angel if they borrowed it to Angel’s confusioned response to the tune of “why the fuck would I want to wear your lip color?” And it gets to the point they ask for Nifty’s help finding it while Alastor is trying to avoid the topic entirely. Eventually Nifty DOES find it in the radio tower much to Alastor’s flustered frustration.

A/N oh hell yes i can do this. 11/10. Also I am skipping the fuck around in my request order, I am so nervous about posting cover up pt 4. I promise it will come out soon.

Spicy Sienna and Berry Naughty (Alastor x Gn!Chubby!Reader)

Pairing: Alastor x Reader

Warnings: Uhhh I got a little suggestive with this one guys. Sorry. Also,, Alastor is a little creepy and stalkery and has a thing about hands. This one just came out all around weird. Also, I named it after my favorite lip and nail polish matching combo so don't judge the fic by its name. Also Alastor sexualizes the reader a bit. Let me know if I missed anything. (guys i really have no idea what happened with this one, i am so sorry. I hope you still like it.) Also,, Alastor is for sure ooc.

Word Count: 3,675

Master Lists:

Master Lists 

Hazbin Hotel Master List 

Alastor Master List 

Click here and leave a comment if you want to be added to any taglists or send me an ask about it.

"Is that a new color?"

Alastor's ears perked up. He didn't turn to face the source of the sound but he listened. There was only one person in the hotel Angel would direct such a question towards after all.

"Yeah. It's essie, Berry Naughty is the name I think? Nail polish and makeup products always get called the silliest things. Do you like it?"

Y/n was the Hazbin Hotel's newest resident. They had arrived just a few weeks before, brought into the fold by Angel himself. The pair were old friends apparently, knew each other from back when they were alive.

"Yeah, it suits you. A lot more than that blue you used to wear."

There were three things the pair could be discussing in Alastor's mind. The first was Y/n's clothing. They were always dressed to the nines, decked out in some crazy ensemble or another.

At first, it had seemed foolish to Alastor. Anyone who cared that much about what they looked like had no shot at being an enjoyable person in his mind. That was before he had started to get to know the demon, seen the joy it brought them to indulge in fashion, realized the things they wore were for them and them alone. Everything had changed with that. It wasn't about persuasion, getting attention, facade. It was just who they were.

The thing about this first theory, however, was that Y/n almost never wore blue.

"Hey!" Y/n laughed, sounding a tad offended, "I liked the blue and I still might go back to it."

The second option was lipstick. Another little hobby the demon indulged in that had caused Alastor to misjudge their character upon their arrival was the makeup. Every few days, they would come down from their room in one crazy look or another. It was always something dramatic, coordinated perfectly to whatever else they had going on. If Y/n loved anything, they loved a theme.

Alastor had again made the mistake of assuming Y/n's enjoyment of such a thing was a representation of their vapidness when he had first met them. He would not be making that mistake again. The thing was, for all their wild self expression and experimental use of colors, he had never once see them sporting blue lipstick, he couldn't even picture it.

"What! I'm just sayin." Angel teased.

The third and final option, the one Alastor decided was what they must be discussing, was their nail polish. Y/n loved the act of painting nails, called it a ritual of self adoration. The way they talked about it, someone would think they were dedicating sacrifices at an alter to the gods. Every week, like clockwork, they would repaint them. Monday afternoons, four o'clock sharp. Their favorite color of late had indeed been a dark, almost black, blue. Alastor had liked it. The color had made something about their hands shine.

"Rude." Y/n scoffed in reply.

Alastor had always loved Y/n's hands. He had always had a thing about hands. In his opinion, hands were the most telling part of a person, or demon even. They showed nerves, experience, hard work -- went straight through to the core of who a person was. A carpenter's hands were rough, a cook's were scarred, an artists stained with color, a string musician's had calluses on the fingertips. Yes, a lot about a person could be learned from their hands.

Y/n's hands were soft, on the smaller side, and without the bony protrusions of their knuckles so many people seemed to admire now days. Alastor had never understood the desirability of skeletal thinness. It was impractical and uncomfortable. Y/n's hands suited them perfectly, Alastor thought. They were his favorite pair of hands to watch, the way they would flit across the keys of a piano, the way they kneaded the dough when she baked, the way they held a pen.

"I mean, it does match your lipstick now which is kinda a look."

At this, Alastor really did turn around. He couldn't help himself.

Y/n and Angel were lounging on the couches of the hotel lobby. They were dressed down, wearing a pair of jeans that hugged their legs and a crop top that accentuated their body perfectly. They looked soft, they looked comfortable, they looked delicious.

The idea of hunger was a complicated one. When Alastor thought of other demons as delicious looking, it was because he wanted to eat them, to consume their flesh that is. Y/n was certainly delicious but, he had no desire to eat them. Not like that, at any rate.

Angel had been right, Alastor could see it from across the room. The soft ruddy red of their nail varnish matched the gloss coating their lips perfectly. Alastor had always loved the color red.

"Wait, really?" Y/n asked, holding a hand up to their face, by their mouth, their nails turned out towards Angel, "Is it bad?"

"Nah, it's honestly kinda a look."

Y/n hummed, moving their hand from their face and staring intently at their nails.

"Maybe it'll be my new color then... This is the gloss I wear when I'm just doing normal makeup."

"Cohesion is key." Angel noted, "If you have a look to fall back on, people tend to like that in my experience."

Y/n stayed true to their word and Alastor relished in this revelation. Over the course of the next week, nearly every time he spotted them around the hotel, they were wearing that same combination of nail polish and lipstick. It was a secret indulgence of his, a treasure.

They nearly caught him staring one time as they were talking with him. It was nothing special, just one of their average, casual chats about the ethics of one situation or another. For someone who had ended up in Hell, Y/n had a soft spot for moral philosophy. It was clearly spill over from some preoccupation of their mortal self.

Mid conversation, he had drifted off. He hadn't meant to, it was the way they talked. Y/n was an animated conversationalist, always moving their hands to accentuate their words in one way or another. It drew his eyes to their hands and their face equally, their nails and their pretty, dark red lips.

"Hey, Alastor... Alastor!"

"Yes, my dear?" he had quickly replied, snapping out of his stupor.

"Are you alright?"

"Why on earth wouldn't I be?"

"You just kinda... trailed off there."

Alastor tried his best to push his embarrassment to the side, to shake it off his shoulders seamlessly. Miraculously, he succeeded. He wasn't quite sure how, when they were watching him with such concern filling their eyes, a slight pout to their lips.

"Just a little distracted. Lots to do today. My apologies, my dear."

"And here I thought you loved deontological thought." Y/n had teased.

Everything was fine. Alastor didn't mind Angel having noticed, it was a well known fact the spider demon saw Y/n as a sibling rather than a potential partner. The pair had grown up together and when Sir Pentious, one night, had asked whether or not they had ever messed around with each other, seeing how close they were and comfortable with physical contact, the pair had made eye contact before each putting on their own display of disgust.

Alastor was good at seeing through people, he knew it hadn't been a show. What was a problem was when Husk somehow noticed the pairing of their lip and nail color as well.

Alastor had been talking to Charlie about one thing or another as Y/n shared a drink with Sir Pentious at the bar. He was half listening to Charlie, half to their conversation. Alastor always kept an ear out for Y/n's saccharine tones.

The pair had been chatting about how their respective journeys to redemption were going when Husk had cut in.

"Did you match your nail color to your lipstick?" he asked in mild amazement.

Alastor bristled. That fact was his, was for him. No one else was allowed to see.

"Yeah!" he heard Y/n brightly reply, a tinge of pride to their voice.

Though Alastor's back was to them, he could picture the way they must be holding their delicate, gentle hands up now.

"Isn't it cute?"

Husk whistled.

"Damn, Angel is finally rubbing off on you."

"I mean, I guess." came Y/n's hesitant reply.

"You trying to catch someone's attention?"

Alastor could hear his own heartbeat in the silence that proceeded their reply.

"I mean, not on purpose. Not with this. I just like the way it looks... I don't know, it makes me feel... pretty."

Y/n was right. Alastor knew for a fact, had seen it with his own eyes, how irresistible the combination made them look. Now others were starting to notice it as well and, well, Alastor couldn't have that, now could he.

The next morning, when Alastor came down for breakfast, he noticed Y/n sitting at the table, looking uncharacteristically despondent. His back to them as he began to prepare his morning cup of coffee, he smiled.

"What's got you down, my dear?" he asked and Y/n sighed.

"My nail polish disappeared."

So, they had already noticed. Alastor picked the carton of milk up off the counter.

"Don't you have others? You're always a veritable rainbow of color!"

Alastor kept his voice light and cheery. His coffee made, he took a seat at the table across from them.

"Yeah, I guess. I just liked that one. It matched my favorite lipstick."

"Couldn't you try another color? That midnight blue last week was rather nice."

"Yeah, I guess." suddenly, their eyes shot up to his, a smile breaking out across their face, "Wait, Al! You're a genius! I'll just go buy another bottle!"

When Y/n returned from the store a few hours later, their gray cloud had returned.

"Are you alright?" Vaggie asked as they slumped onto the couch beside her.

Alastor couldn't help but note, from his hiding place, the way the act of sitting changed their body. They were beautiful standing, stunning even, but something about the way their thighs spread out over the surface of the couch...

"Yeah." Y/n grumbled, "Just... bummed."

"Oh no!" Charlie exclaimed, walking away from the bulletin board she was planning their next lesson on and joining the pair, "What happened?"

"It's stupid." Y/n groaned, throwing their head back.

"Wrong guy hit on you?" Angel teased and they immediately righted themselves, shooting him a glare.

"No." they pointedly replied, "Just... that nail polish? Berry Naughty or whatever its called? The one that matched my Spicy Sienna gloss?"

"Damn, you're pulling out the color names." Angel laughed, "Yeah, I know. What about it?"

"I can't find my bottle anywhere and I went to like seven different stores today and none of them had it! Not one! You didn't borrow it, did'ya Ant?"

Angel put a hand to his chest dramatically.

"Who, me?"

Y/n rolled their eyes.

"Nah." he waved them off, "You know I always ask before I borrow. I learned that lesson about you the hard way."

Y/n sighed despondently again.

"I'm sorry." Charlie hummed, patting Y/n's knee comfortingly, "I know it was making you really happy."

"It's silly." they shook their head, "It's just nail polish."

"Yeah but, it clearly brought you a lot of joy." Charlie insisted, "What if I ask Nifty to keep an eye out for it around the hotel?"

Alastor almost let the shadows hiding him from the group in the corner of the room dissolve in shock. He hadn't expected that. He had really thought everyone would just let it go. Yes, he knew Y/n would probably be upset about it for a few days but, that just gave him all the more of an excuse to be near them, to comfort them.

"Really Charlie?" Y/n brightened immediately, "You'd do that for me?"

"Of course! I mean, I'm not making any promises but, you know."

Y/n pulled themselves from the couch, throwing their arms around Charlie's neck.

"Oh, thank you! Thank you, thank you, thank you!"

"It's just a nail polish." Vaggie chuckled, watching the interaction warmly.

Y/n let go of Charlie, who shrugged back at her girlfriend.

"It makes them happy."

Two weeks had gone by with no sign of the bottle of nail polish. Y/n still went to the stores every few days, checking for the color, but had yet to have any luck. Nifty too had come up empty handed.

Alastor was very pleased with himself. The trick of using his shadows to empty every store in the surrounding area of the color before Y/n went shopping was something he was particularly proud of.

Of course, all along, he knew where the missing item was. It was in the top drawer of his night table on the right hand side of his bed. Nifty only went in to clean his room maybe once a month or so and she knew better than to snoop. It was all going off without a hitch, even the comforting aspect. Alastor had had the absolute pleasure and honor of showing up at just the right place, at just the right time (imagine that), so as to be included with Angel when Y/n had the bright idea to see if she could find any other matching colors between her vast collection of lipsticks and lipglosses and even larger collection of nail polish. He wasn't sure how their hands could sustain that much acetone, or their skin that much makeup remover, but he was grateful for it nonetheless.

Alastor was in his studio, fixing one of the control panels, his mind filled with spinning memories of the past couple days (Y/n had even hugged him! The feeling of the cushion of their waist against his arms, their stomach, was not one he would soon forget), when he heard a knock at the door. He straightened up, eyeing it suspiciously.

The guests of the Hazbin Hotel, as well as its staff, knew better than to disturb him while he was at work. It's owners, on the other hand, were much more foolhardy. He ran a hand over his hair, straightening it a bit so as to make himself presentable, and called for the knocker to enter.

The door creaked as it swung open, just like Alastor wanted it to. A creaky door was a good thing, it made sure most people couldn't sneak up on him when he was at his most vulnerable, most distracted.

"You'll want to grease that." Y/n hummed as they stepped into the dingy space, "I think we have some WD40 in the basement, if you want me to bring it up for you."

They had never come to visit him up here before, never dared even come near the rotting wooden door. Alastor walked forward, shutting the door behind Y/n now that they were fully in the room. He was close enough to feel their breath on his skin as he smiled down at them.

"No need, my dear, although, I do appreciate the offer."

A silence fell between the pair as Y/n took a few steps further into the room, their eyes running across every surface available before them. Alastor noticed their hands were clasped behind their back. It wasn't an unusual position for them but, something seemed different about it this time.

"What can I help you with?" he cordially asked and Y/n turned to face him.

"Well... I... um..." they locked eyes with Alastor, finding their words at last, "Nifty found something today. While she was cleaning."

Alastor was glad Y/n's demon form was not all that powerful in this moment. If it was, they would have heard his heartbeat spike. His voice, his demeanor, even his expression were easy to control but his heart? Not so much.

"Oh?"

"Yeah... I..." Y/n trailed off.

With a sigh, they brought their hands forward, opening them to reveal the source of Alastor's anxiety. Nestled there, in the softness of their palm, was the nail polish.

"She found it! Congratulations, my dear. You must be thrilled."

"Yeah." Y/n replied uncertainly, looking away.

Alastor knew why they were so uncomfortable, but his hope was stronger. There was an uncanny sense of optimism in him, one that was unfounded and unfamiliar. It drove him to pry, to see how much they really knew. For all Alastor knew, there could be something else entirely going on.

"Where was it?"

"I..." Y/n looked back at him once again, "That's the problem, Alastor. Nifty said... well, she said she found it in your room."

"In my room?" Alastor repeated, feigning confusion, a hand to his chest in mock surprise.

Y/n nodded.

"In your night table drawer."

They must have known him better than he thought, have seen the flash of sudden anger in his eyes or something like that, maybe he had tense his body. Whatever had ticked them off, they continued.

"She didn't open it. Nift said it was open and went to close it and just... spotted it in there so don't get mad at her, she didn't do anything wrong."

Alastor stood in silence, watching Y/n carefully.

"I just... Look, I'm not mad, I am just confused. Why was it in your room, did you take it from me?"

A shock of nerves fluttered in Alastor's stomach. The heat rushed to his cheeks and he looked away, a hand flying instinctually to his collar and tugging at it just the slightest bit, as if the room was too hot. It was all the answer Y/n needed.

"Why?"

Alastor turned back to Y/n and nearly stumbled back a few steps when he realized how much closer they had brought themselves to him. Nearly every other time, he was the one to bridge the distance, to step into their personal space. His breath caught in his throat, a sort of thrill flooding his mind.

"I... I..."

He had stuttered. Alastor didn't stutter. He had never stuttered, not even when he was alive.

"You..?" Y/n prompted, leaning forward slightly.

His mind was reeling. He couldn't tell if that was their goal, secretly, if they had finally realized the effect they had on him and begun to use it to their advantage. Alastor looked away again.

"It was..."

"You knew it was my favorite. Why did you take it?"

Fuck.

They were upset, maybe even angry. Alastor had seen them mad before but it had never been directed towards him. Normally, he would relish in the wrath of another but Y/n's wrath? Fuck. He realized right then and there, he would rather die.

"Husk." he admitted at last, his hands now fiddling with the cuffs of his jacket, his face flushed.

Alastor dared a glance at Y/n. Their brow was furrowed.

"Husk?"

"Yeah. Husk."

"I... why Husk? Did he dare you? Did he... I... what?"

Whatever feelings they had previously held had been replaced by pure confusion. Alastor could handle confusion. The situation at large was still unwelcome and rather untenable but, at least there was the confusion.

"He..." Alastor cleared his throat, brave enough to meet their eyes again at last, "He noticed."

"Noticed.... oh."

"Yeah."

They fell silent. This wasn't a thing Alastor had felt since he was very young. There was a wild animal in his chest. In this moment, he didn't just look like a deer, he was one and Y/n was the hunter with their gun trained on the spot between his eyes.

"It wa-"

"Did you also take it off the shelves all over the neighborhood?"

They had always been smart, smarter than he gave them credit for. Alastor grimaced, nodding slowly.

"Alastor, why did it bother you so much? Is it illegal to match my nails to my lips? Does it go against your... your weird ass deontological code?"

"No, it's just... it was... fuck!"

Y/n had never heard him curse before. A hand flew to Alastor's head, he took a deep breath.

"Alastor, I-"

"It was for me, okay? I... I didn't want anyone else noticing. It was just for me."

Y/n looked somehow even more confused as he lowered his hand once again. The releif that had accompanied the admission was greatly outweighed by his anxiety as he waited for their response.

"But Angel noticed too? Before Husk?"

"That's different." Alastor sighed, "He... You... I..."

"Alastor, what's going on?"

There was concern now, lacing their voice in its gentle vines. It almost made everything worse.

"I like you, okay!? There. Are you happy now!?"

He didn't know why he was yelling. Y/n's eyes went wide.

"You... like me? Like, like like me?"

He glared at them and they put their hands up in surrender.

"Just trying to clarify the situation!"

Alastor rolled his eyes, crossing his arms protectively over his chest.

"Yes. I... like like you or... whatever nonsense you just said. Are you happy now?"

It was a stand off, each training a metaphorical pistol at the other. Y/n was the one to finally break.

"Yes." they curtly replied, crossing their arms to mirror his position, "I'll... I'll let you get back to work now."

Someone had driven a nail right through Alastor's chest and into his heart. He watched their retreating form as they opened the door and slipped out into the hallway. Just as it was about to fall shut, they miraculously stuck a foot between the closing door and its frame, peeking their head back into the room.

"Just so you know: if you asked me out on a date," they began, their eyes flicking up to his from where they had previously been fixed on the floor, "I'd say yes."

-----

A/N Ant is a pretty common nickname for Anthony in NYC (where I am from and where I'm pretty sure Angel is supposed to be from). Yes, I will be using it in another fic I am working on too (its part two of Unexpected (Vox x Reader). Also,, deontology is when you have a strict set of ethical rules/maxims you stick by no matter what (Kant is a deontologist).

TAGS:

@willowshadenox @i-love-jafar @elfyeet @reader3 @lazygirlfanfic0-0 @kahlan170 @wendyphan01203-blog @fairyv-ice @clarakainda @lunaramune @mcueveryday @luxky-aish @peterpankat @corvid007 @juskonutoh @simpingsohard @sethianaa @gabile18 @slytherin4ever @skyeliteratures @zombiesnips-blog

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captive prince short stories highlights & annotations

pet

(takes place during book 1: captive prince)

indented text is from the book. some quotes have commentary, some do not. some comments are serious, and some are definitely not. most of them will only make sense to people who have read the series. and, like, there are spoilers. so please read the books first if you're interested!

also: part of the reason i'm doing such a close reading is to study cs pacat's style, especially in terms of how she does romance and erotica. there are "craft notes" that might seem weird, like i'm being redundant or restating something rather than analyzing, but those are more things that i want to remember/take away from the writing!

i'm going to tag these longer posts with "sam reads capri" in case anyone wants to read them all at once.

this is a google doc i wrote with overall content warnings for the captive prince series. it's not perfect, but i do think it's important to include.

Ancel was a virgin the first twelve times he had sex. The thirteenth time, it lacked all plausibility.

‘You could buy out my contract.’ ‘How much?’ He made up a figure. There was no Lord Arten. Ancel landed his first contract that day: three months of his time, signed over to the merchant’s son.

‘I’ve never done it in public before,’ said Ancel. ‘You’d be my first.’

ancel leveraging subcategories of his virginity. smart

‘You’re not going to take him away from me, you slut,’ said the boy sweetly, murmuring the words too quietly for anyone else to hear. ‘Too late,’ said Ancel.

vere sucks. but i think ancel is playing the system more effectively than like anyone else there

Was this how men felt fucking him? No wonder they paid a fortune for it.

Fucking Lord Rouart, fucking every lord here. Being watched by everyone while he did it was like a blinding white light.

veretian society fucks ancel, ancel fucks veretian society harder

The room exploded in approval, cheers, calls of his name. He could hear shouts of suggestions, ribald calls to Lord Rouart in the thick excitement of the crowd.

there have to be at least a few people in vere who are not into this, but just kind of playing along to keep their—wait isn’t that the other guy in this short story

He was going to meet his new owner, and his new owner was going to fuck him.

ancel does not understand how cs pacat writes sex and power dynamics. nobody ever gets what they think they’re going to get

‘So, you saw me in the ring, and decided that you just had to have me,’ said Ancel. Berenger looked up. ‘No. I hate the ring.’ The words were matter-of-fact. ‘Parsins, hand me my jacket.’

i think i am going to really like berenger.

‘How old are you?’ As if Ancel hadn’t spoken. ‘Sixteen.’ Berenger gave him a flat look. ‘Twenty,’ said Ancel, the truth coming out with a flash of annoyance that he had to work hard to keep out of his voice.

He tried to recover. ‘And you?’ said Ancel, in his most velvet voice. ‘Now that you have me, what are you going to do with me?’ ‘I’m riding to Ladehors.’ Berenger was walking right past him, he was—was he leaving?

most normal guy in vere

Ancel had seen with his own eyes that Berenger owned six identical copies of the same brown jacket.

oh i love this character

He was dressed in a loose shirt of simple white linen and plain trousers, his red hair tied back in a casual tail with a single leather tie. He looked up when he heard footsteps, and then stood quickly, closing the book. An unaffected young man, rising startled to greet his friend. ‘My lord,’ said Ancel. ‘I’m sorry, I—you took me by surprise.’

this is so funny. ancel pretending to be what he thinks berenger wants him to be, which is just like another normal guy

'Oh this?’ A hand to his mussily tied back hair. ‘I wasn’t expecting you back so early. I can change into something more—’ ‘No. You look handsome.’ Berenger stopped and shook his head. ‘That is, when we’re not at functions, you should feel free to wear whatever you like.’ ‘Thank you, my lord,’ said Ancel. It was Berenger who took a step forward. ‘You’re reading Isagoras?’ Berenger was looking at the discarded book with its scrollwork pages. He looked up at Ancel in surprise. ‘What do you think of him?’

i like how ancel is doing a reversal of the makeover trope. he was hot and glamorous before, and now he’s trying to make himself look like a boring nerd

Ancel couldn’t read, but he had planned all this from the moment Parsins had pointed the book out to him.

LMAOOOOOO

Ancel ate the plain food with the good manners of a merchant’s son, and none of the teasing flirtation that marked his own profession.

what are you talking about, there’s never been a mention of homoerotic bread eating in this series before

It happened in the library one night several weeks later, as Berenger was talking about politics. Ancel nodded and half listened while Berenger said—blah blah the Prince, blah blah the alliance with Akielos—

‘In the end, aren’t we all looking for someone to be loyal to?’ said Ancel, softly.

ancel really just went down the checklist of things he was told berenger likes (loyalty in friendship in this case)

also, a note from post-reading the entire story sam: YES YOU ARE, ANCEL.

‘Is that what you want?’ said Berenger. ‘It’s what I never thought I’d find,’ said Ancel, ‘until I met you,’ and it was happening, finally, it was finally happening, the two of them drawing closer in the firelight, Ancel’s arms sliding around Berenger’s neck, leaning in to— ‘Ancel—no.’

‘You may have made assumptions,’ Berenger spoke first, not looking at him, ‘after I bid for you in the ring, but I—’ For a moment, Ancel didn’t understand. And then suddenly the rejections and the refusals made sense. ‘It doesn’t have to be like it was in the ring,’ Ancel said in rush, relieved to have discovered the root of the problem. He hastened to reassure Berenger. ‘I don’t have to be the one who does that.’

ancel i don’t think this is a top/bottom thing, i think berenger isn’t drinking whatever horny flouride they have in the water in vere and is just disinterested in the pet stuff

He waited for Berenger to get it. Berenger didn’t seem to get it.

because that’s not what berenger meant!! this dynamic is very fun. extremely self-assured and aspirational guy who only knows how to leverage sex and schmooze, vs chill-ass guy who is not really trying to get anything out of anyone and therefore not thinking or trying too hard

‘You can fuck me,’ Ancel explained. Berenger’s eyes went wide. Was that the wrong thing to say? ‘I’ve always done it that way before. It’s what I’m good at.’ That was the wrong thing to say, too. ‘I mean, I want you.’ That was better. He should have said that first. ‘I want you.’ He moved a step closer, made it personal. ‘The way you want me.’ ‘Ancel, you don’t have to—’ ‘I want you to fuck me.’ ‘That isn’t what I want.’ ‘Then what do you want?’ Ancel said, in pure frustration.

world’s first reverse beard has been invented

‘In six weeks,’ began Berenger, ‘I’m attending court. As a single man, I need a pet to attend dinners and functions with me. For propriety’s sake. That is all. I don’t expect intimacy in private. In fact I prefer in private that you—that you and I—’ ‘Court?’ Like a flower inclining towards sunlight, Ancel’s whole attention swung to the thought. He barely heard the rest. ‘You’re taking me to court?’ ‘Yes.’ ‘The royal court. At Arles.’ ‘Yes.’

such a fun premise for this story. ancel has a reason to stay (social climbing), berenger has a reason to need ancel (appearing to follow customs). surely they can help each other accomplish their goals while keeping this impersonal and professional, with no eventual mutual understanding or friendship or romance.

‘Well, I’m going to need a lot more jewels,’ Ancel said, his annoyance returning with a snap. ‘I know you like boring young men in cotton shirts, but I can’t wander around the palace looking like this.’ Berenger was staring at him again, like Ancel was a stranger he was meeting for the first time. Ancel lifted his chin. ‘What? I intend to make the most of our time at court. I am incredibly good at my chosen profession. Not that you’d know that.’ ‘It’s possible I didn’t realise how good until now.’ Berenger was still gazing at him with that new look in his eyes. After a long moment, ‘Do you even like horses?’ ‘I can’t read,’ said Ancel. ‘I see,’ said Berenger.

okay yeah i LOVE this. mask off for ancel, meanwhile berenger hadn’t even bothered to pretend in the first place. i mean he’s pretending in front of the court, but not ancel. it’s just nice that they’re on the same team, unlike SOME PEOPLE i’ve read about during this rough period of time in vere

The next morning, Ancel threw away the plain white shirt and the simple leather hair tie, and came down to breakfast in the clothes that he liked: exquisite silks and velvets that felt good against his skin, wearing his hair pampered and long and out. Berenger didn’t say, ‘I see,’ but the implication was there in the heavy weight of his regard as he looked at Ancel across the table. Ancel lifted his chin, ignoring all the uninspired foods that Berenger liked and biting into a fruit tart.

this story has done a great job of making me like ancel and berenger in a short amount of time. strong moments of characterization (the fruit tart, the jackets, etc), more simple and less subtle than damen and laurent, but still very fun to notice and appreciate

‘The horse I chose for you has arrived,’ said Berenger. ‘She’s a strawberry roan named Ruby. I wonder if you’ll like her.’

berenger and ancel’s first official date is a chappell roan concert. red hair and horses.

For his part, Ancel stopped trying to seduce Berenger, and started enjoying himself.

Perhaps Berenger preferred women.

i don’t think this is where the story goes, but i would actually kinda like if they were just friends, and that was in fact the case. or even better, ancel assumes berenger is straight and that’s why he’s not interested, but berenger is eventually like “no i like men, i’m just not attracted to you” or "i don't like my partners being 10 years younger than i am"

Every commoner in the province had a story about Lord Berenger: Berenger had remembered the name of their child; Berenger had stayed with them through the birth of their prize colt; Berenger had helped them with the purchase of equipment when they had none, saving the harvest.

berenger could not have been involved in the main series. i think he’d break the reader’s brain compared to laurent because he’s just like. a normal and decent person despite the horrors, and not trying to hide it beneath a million layers of complicated bullshit

‘No. I meant that the court has changed,’ said Berenger, shaking his head, ‘since the King died. The Regent’s influence—’

hate that guy

‘What?’ said Ancel. ‘Luxury suits you,’ remarked Berenger.

god i wish this could stay platonic. THAT would be the true subversion!

note from post-reading the entire story sam: with the full image we eventually get of ancel, i actually think it's even better that berenger admits that he desires him. it would feel kind of like a cop-out for the answer to ancel's unspoken question of "would anyone like me for who i am, if my attractiveness was not a factor?" to be "yeah this guy does, but he never would have been into you in the first place." it's even more effective, and even more a subversion of what ancel thinks of himself, for berenger to find ALL of him attractive—his ambition and talent and intelligence, in addition to his looks and performance—and not want to reduce ancel to the sex object that he (ancel) thinks he has to be.

Who was the new pet? How had he come to serve Berenger?

i’m getting the impression that the previous king of vere had not required people like berenger to have pets, but the regent does. which is why berenger hired ancel

Berenger then knelt for the Prince, who was standing to the left of the throne, a severe young man in harsh clothing.

GOD i hope i get to see a little bit of laurent being a withdrawn dryly comedic sitcom side character before damen arrives and it sends him into joker mode

Lady Egere had a horse program Berenger was interested in, so Ancel made her feel like the most important person in the world.

berenger not beating the normal person allegations. like yeah, that is what people do at dinner parties. they talk to other people about shared interests. good job, berenger.

And when everyone was talking about the Prince, and the conversation swerved uncomfortably towards the new Akielon alliance, Ancel stepped in and told the whole table a risqué story he’d heard about Akielon bed practices, diverting attention.

laurent sighs and makes a mental note to be slightly less hostile to ancel for that accidental favor

Even Berenger laughed when he got to the punchline.

‘I love them,’ said Ancel. ‘I’d sleep with you right now. I might even enjoy it for once.’ He stopped. ‘High praise,’ said Berenger, dryly. ‘Of course, with you, I’d—’ ‘Oh, of course,’ said Berenger.

oh NICE moment. ancel admitting that he doesn’t actually like any of this shit he’s doing. and berenger implying that he’s always understood that.

Another day, another brown jacket.

i love the brown jacket as a means of characterization and comedy

‘In blue or red, you could look quite handsome.’ It was something Ancel had noticed on the third morning, in the early light from the window. Berenger had a strong profile, good bone structure, and warm eyes. His waist, where Ancel was lacing, was trim, his body fit from riding. ‘Let me pick your jacket.’ Berenger sounded amused. ‘You don’t like my jacket?’

you don’t like his jacket????

He didn’t let Ancel pick his jacket.

good to know he has his hard limits

They had a good system in which Ancel filched the delicious confectionaries and special sweets and left Berenger all the plain stuff he preferred.

i love this for them!!!

‘I can’t believe you’ve never visited the coupling gardens. Do you feel no desires at all? Come on.’ ‘Ancel, I don’t think that—’ ‘Look, it’s those flowers from that boring poem that you like,’ Ancel announced proudly. He stood in front of the spray of white flowers. Berenger had stopped. The flowers were night blooming, filling the air with a delicate scent.

ancel please don’t talk about poetry in the mindfuck blowjob garden

‘You’re right,’ said Berenger. ‘They’re very beautiful. And rare. In the poem, the lover is given only a single flower.’ ‘What a terrible gift. I’d much rather have jewellery,’ said Ancel, wrinkling his nose. ‘Or clothes. Even the horse was better.’ Berenger’s mouth quirked, his eyes shifting from the flowers, amused and warm. ‘Yes, you’re a little more expensive.’

THEY SHOULD STAY FRIENDSSSS please!!! i want to see their odd couple not a couple adventures as neither of them actually falls in love bc they’re married to the grind (literally for ancel, figuratively for berenger). then again, we know that ancel doesn’t actually like being a pet, so i can see how this ends up a romance that works. but STILL

'I like feeling—’ Like part of it. Like the master of it. Like he had power over the men, like if they wanted him they had to pay a fortune for it. Like he was more valuable than the wine goblet Berenger held, or the silver pitcher a servant had poured from. Like he mattered.

ancel understands exactly how this stronger man/weaker man thing works, in that the weakest man is the one who forces others to the bottom so he can be on top. but berenger doesn’t do that, except for appearances. and he’s very clear that he knows it’s all bullshit too.

‘Perhaps I ought to think of it more like that.’ ‘How do you think of it?’ ‘I think,’ said Berenger, ‘that the only person in this place who shows me their real face is you.’

berenger: i’d probably be happier if i just allowed myself to enjoy the luxury and debauchery ancel: wait so what do you think instead berenger: that this is all fake and stupid as hell, and you’re the only one with the awareness to understand that and use it

‘I can make everyone look at me.’ There was the familiar frown, like an old friend. ‘Ancel, I told you I don’t want—’

“like an old friend” because he IS your friend, because he appreciates you for who you are, not for the ways you can perform

Gasps as they burst into flame, and Ancel tossed the stick high, a spinning wheel of dangerous light.

how did he like. learn how to do this. this isn’t something you can just do on a whim. although i guess it does suit ancel to play with fire

That was part of the thrill, sensuality and danger. He had everyone’s attention now. He tossed and twirled, and it was easy, all of it coming back to him, his childhood days before his profession had changed, before the escalating series of favours, until the moment he had finally agreed to it. You have to pay me extra. It’s my first time.

very effective way to give backstory: he was a performer, and then someone propositioned him for sex, and then he realized the possibilities of going into that kind of work full-time. it put the power in his hands, and people did in fact pay him more when he asked.

‘You’re full of talents, aren’t you,’ said a boy’s voice, and Ancel turned. The boy was very lovely and very young, with huge blue eyes and a tumble of brown curls.

my heart hurts

‘Since you like to play with fire,’ said Nicaise.

extremely bittersweet to have nicaise say one of my own thoughts

‘I’ve heard that Berenger likes women, and that he disappears sometimes from court, so that he can—’ Ancel flushed. He left the main hall and made straight for Berenger, who was sitting in an adjoining antechamber, on one of the long reclining couches, amid a handful of acquaintances, talking in small relaxed groups. ‘Kiss me,’ said Ancel as he settled, one knee on the couch on either side of Berenger’s thighs, his hands linked behind Berenger’s neck. ‘What?’ said Berenger. ‘On the mouth,’ said Ancel.

yeah they invented reverse bearding

Berenger was beginning to frown. Ancel thought, with a burst of irritation, I know you don’t want to, but can’t you just pretend? How hard was it? Ancel pretended all the time. Berenger had a reputation to maintain. But if Ancel said that, Berenger would probably reply with something idiotic like his own reputation didn’t matter to him.

ancel is so perceptive, compared to damen it’s like. jarring

It didn’t feel impersonal. He was instead extremely conscious that it was Berenger that he was kissing.

uh oh

His lips were tingling from kissing Berenger, and that didn’t seem to make sense.

UH OH

‘Like you mean it,’ said Ancel, and kissed him again.

UH OH!!!!

‘My lord,’ he said, and he sounded turned on, which was how he was supposed to sound. ‘Berenger.’

love ancel being in denial about having feelings

Ancel closed his eyes. He could imagine exactly what Berenger liked, lovemaking in the dark with a young man in a plain shirt. If they ever—Ancel would have to feign at least a degree of innocence, physically experienced but emotionally unprepared, looking up at Berenger and saying it’s never been like this before. He imagined that: imagined Berenger kissing him in private. A strange shaky feeling grew in him. Berenger would kiss with the same seriousness as he was now, he probably fucked like that too, strong and steady. Berenger’s voice in his ear, roughened. ‘You’re so good at faking it.’ ‘I know,’ Ancel said. ‘I know I’m good.’

ancel is down BAD for this brown jacket man, holy shit

‘How long do we have to stay here?’ Berenger said. ‘What?’ said Ancel. ‘How long do you normally take?’ said Berenger.

wait. so ancel in the garden scene. was half trying to make berenger jealous and half trying to convince himself that he’s better off doing what anyone else but berenger would ask him to do. and failing to convince himself entirely. LOVE that alternate perspective, so cool!!

It took a moment before he understood the words, and their meaning. But the way Berenger was standing off from him, like a man who has had his evening interrupted for a charade in which he has little interest, made everything clear. Ancel pushed down the feelings in his chest, closing his eyes briefly.

ouch

‘All right,’ said Berenger, and stood there, awkwardly. Ancel heard himself say, ‘Unless, do you want—’ Me. Do you want me.

i love how free will continues to be a theme in this series, even when we’re not discussing damen and laurent. specifically regarding desire and attachment, romantic and sexual. ancel doesn’t actually want to be the person he pretends he is, lowering himself beneath his masters and helping them get off on the power they have over him; he wants to be understood and wanted for his whole self. and berenger is like the only person he’s ever met who has wished to see him as something other than a sex object or performance piece, the only person who doesn’t wish to intimately possess or control him. berenger seems to want to experience love on even footing, which in vere is highly unusual. no wonder ancel is desperate for his interest, when his interest is actually REAL.

He thought, he could make Berenger like it.

free will theme again! he made berenger like it, it wouldn’t be real. and ancel wouldn’t like it either.

‘I think we both know this isn’t working,’ Berenger said in a low voice. ‘This,’ said Ancel. Berenger wasn’t looking at him. ‘I’ll pay out your time in full. We can separate after you perform for the Patran delegation. You can tell people your contract simply came to the end of its time.’ ‘You’re ending our contract,’ said Ancel.

BRUTAL. and the thing is, berenger is being kind and selfless here. ancel has told him with words and actions that he only cares about upward social mobility, and has made it seem like berenger is holding him back. berenger is putting himself at a huge disadvantage in the regent’s court by letting ancel find another employer, but probably feels like this is the best way he can genuinely honor ancel’s stated wishes. sad little miscommunication moment, although i don’t think it’s fully that trope because ancel only subconsciously realized how he feels like five minutes ago

‘Everyone will want you after your performance. You won’t have trouble finding men to bid for you—’ ‘I know,’ said Ancel. ‘I’m the best pet at this court.’

ancel does his fire dance to “my kink is karma” by chappell roan as he desperately tries to repress his feelings

He didn’t know why, but the next day when Ancel saw Berenger talking in a low voice to Lord Droet’s pet, it made him angry, and he stalked out of the stuffy, overlit rooms, into the cool shade of the gardens.

oh, captive prince chapter 5 dubcon (and that’s generous) scene that damen took way less seriously than myself or even laurent because he (damen) grew up with sex slaves so this is kinda normal to him. oh, captive prince chapter 5 dubcon scene that, despite its problematic nature, was and still is extremely compelling to me, by which i mean unfairly hot

It was the Ambassador to Vask, her face familiar to him from a dozen evening entertainments. Ancel knew her sculptured style of dress well, the Vaskian elements she incorporated into her clothing. She had the straight-backed posture and poise of a woman used to power.

VANNES HIIIII VANNES

Vannes spoke. ‘You and Berenger are utterly mismatched. And you’re clearly ambitious. I hope you won’t hurt him too badly when you move on.’

she sees the version of ancel that he knows is wrong for himself, but he’s leaning into it because berenger’s kinda-rejection hurt so bad

Everyone would think what Vannes thought, that Berenger couldn’t hold Ancel and Ancel was moving on to someone better.

i like how this is so high stakes to ancel, for good reason, but we know that there are way higher stakes batshit insane things happening with damen and laurent right now. but ancel doesn’t care about damen and laurent. he cares about himself and berenger. just a really cool way of showing another pov for the same story!

Ancel thought of the impossible. For pets, it was epitomised by one man. The Prince. The Prince, who had never taken a pet. The Prince, who had never taken anyone, or been taken, so they said. They said he was frigid, that he had ice in his veins, that pets failed to interest him. But there was one person who had the Prince’s complete attention.

YHRWYOEGRUYWEGRUYWERHBFSDF

By the time Berenger and the others arrived, Ancel knew exactly what he was going to do.

i LOVE having this context, wow! it doesn’t really change the nature of the original scene, but adds dimension in a super satisfying way. i also really like how this works with the general vibe of book 1—it feels so isolated and depraved to read, you’re wondering “holy shit is everyone here besides damen just a terrible person?” and that’s the point, but with this addition from another perspective it’s like, hey, berenger was there the whole time. normal nice decent guy, caught up in the same shit as everyone else. who had only been trying to be kind to ancel and give him what he wanted, and most certainly did not want him to do what he does here. it reminds me of loyse, and the way she’s incorporated into the main series—so much of damen and laurent’s experiences early on are defined by struggling alone, but they’re both less alone than they thought, both in terms of sympathetic company and people dealing with the same problems they have. this is seen both in the way they are with each other, especially with the slow burn of 'Laurent is Not As Bad As Damen Thought He Was With More Context,' and the way people like loyse are slowly revealed by the narrative. it's just neat. if i ever re-read captive prince, i’ll be like, “oh it’s berenger!!!” and the scene will, in some small way, feel less isolated.

Physically imposing, and dripping with disdainful pride, he looked as though he could break any handlers in half.

love this description of damen as having “disdainful pride,” because so much of his internal narrative is considering himself a victim, which he is. but also, he is very disdainful towards this society, and prideful about his own. damen himself admits that he had prejudices and misjudgments towards vere and blind spots regarding his own society at the end of king’s rising, and it’s cool to see ancel get that impression immediately.

The younger blond slave pressed his forehead submissively to the floor, a pose that seemed designed to make you want to step on his head. Ancel found himself unaccountably irritated by the passivity.

obviously both systems are bad, but if you read my main series annotations you know i’m very much in agreement with ancel here

Berenger was frowning.

normal! reaction!

He looked scornful and unimpressed when his eyes passed briefly over Ancel, Berenger and Vannes. His only movement was to shift slightly, a rearrangement of muscle.

i looooove seeing damen from the outside, wow

Arriving in the bower, the Prince of Vere was instantly commanding, with nothing soft or yielding in him. A young man with golden hair, cold blue eyes and an arresting profile, he had a pet’s looks and a Prince’s bearing, laced up tighter than Berenger, in dark, severe clothing. He looked capable of mastering the slave through force of will, as though the slave’s discomfort was his pleasure.

good to see, in this case, that laurent is very much perceived exactly how he is trying to be perceived. we know that this is for his own safety, and it isn’t harming ancel at all. unlike in captive prince book 1, where damen is being directly harmed by laurent and his rancid vibes, albeit for stronger reasons (he knows who damen is) than either damen or the reader understand.

‘Ancel, no. He could hurt you.’ Ancel ignored Berenger, and spoke to the shoulders and back of the Prince.

this is so cool. when i read the original scene, it seemed like berenger said this out of like, petty distate for akelions and maybe jealousy. but now we know it’s because berenger thinks that this is all fucked up, and doesn’t want ancel to get hurt by his own ambition

‘Would you like that?’ Berenger frowned. ‘No. I wouldn’t.’

“would you like that [i get hurt]?” oh ancel :( and you know that he thinks berenger would, or at least wouldn’t care either way. because ancel is just 20 and emotionally undeveloped and seems not to have been truly cared for in his life

again, i assumed originally in this scene that unnamed berenger said “no i wouldn’t” because of jealousy. but that isn’t true! berenger already told ancel that he can leave! he just actually cares about ancel!

The Prince turned, and Ancel found himself the sole subject of the Prince’s attention.

i like that we know he isn’t, because the only living people capable of completely hijacking and consuming laurent’s large capacity for thought are the regent and damen

‘I think your master would prefer you intact,’ said the Prince.

in captive prince, it adds, “said laurent, dryly.” but it’s not dry to ancel, he doesn't want to acknowledge the fact that laurent is deeply unamused

‘You could tie the slave up.’ He saw the moment the Prince took in the idea. There was something more in the Prince’s eyes, something private, though it was only there for a moment, before the Prince’s expression hardened.

well yeah, but he’s not thinking about you, ancel.

Ancel looked Berenger right in the eyes. ‘Tell me how you want me to fuck him.’ ‘I don’t want you to fuck him,’ said Berenger. ‘I do,’ said Ancel. ‘I want to do it with you watching.’

new dialogue, things damen didn’t hear! i think i kinda explored what’s going on here in previous annotations

You mean with the Prince watching, Berenger didn’t say.

this is strange. at first it seems like uncharacteristic pov head jumping, but then it’s like no, this is what ancel THINKS berenger isn’t saying. ancel cannot imagine that berenger’s reluctance here could be for any other reason than, like, petty jealousy of the prince. when in reality berenger just cares about ancel and doesn’t want him to get caught up with insane terrible people

Instead, Berenger frowned in that way that he had, turned to the handlers, and gave some instructions about safety.

so they DO have safe words in vere. although maybe berenger just invented them, that sounds like something he would do

Drawn by the rarity of the spectacle, a few other courtiers had drifted over, and then a few more, a small audience gathering.

love the mention of rarity, since damen assumes that this is totally normal

Ancel didn’t need Berenger. He was going to do it with the Prince’s slave, in front of everyone. No other pet had ever won the Prince’s attention.

ancel i know you were just dumped for the first time but this is not the slay you think it is

The slave’s eyes lifted to meet Ancel’s for a moment, radiating fury, before he turned the full force of it on the Prince, who just stared back at him coldly.

don’t worry about it. they’re fine

He wasn’t a court pet, or a brothel client. He was an Akielon, named for the Akielon prince-killer.

oh my god. imagine ancel’s reaction when he learns that he had unknowingly given the future king of akielos a bj

Ancel could see, as he put his hands on those thighs, that the slave disliked him. That was irritating. Did he think Ancel was salivating to suck his cock? Pets had to do things they didn’t like all the time.

obsessed with the way ancel is projecting berenger onto this. a really neat subversion of the way he intentionally and performatively projected that other guy in order to win his favor. also fun because in the scene from damen’s perspective, ancel is very literally a projection of laurent. neither ancel nor damen are imagining this with the person actually doing it with them. is this what the “mutually unrequited sex” ao3 tag is for

It had been a long time since Ancel had given head, thanks to Berenger’s prudery. It was disconcerting, uncomfortable at first, like he didn’t want to be this close, or put his mouth on it. He pushed past the feeling. He was good at this. He knew what to do and how to do it. The uncomfortable feeling grew. The slave was too stupid to realise he was supposed to be performing.

the way it’s almost a good thing that ancel is uncomfortable right now, because it means that he’s in some small way breaking out of the fucked-up mentality he’s grown up with

love damen and ancel as foils, in terms of pride. ancel takes pride in his willingness to get his hands dirty and perform submission for social clout, damen takes pride in his unwillingness to get his hands dirty (compromise his morals) and give his submission to those who don’t deserve it. but while damen's pride is held up by honor and integrity, ancel's is held up by his own degradation.

How had he ever achieved a court position, with skills this poor? Wasn’t he trying at all?

if you really think about it, damen was a nepo hire

Ancel felt the slave jerk, his cock hardening as the Prince settled himself on the bower seat alongside them.

well, damen, i guess someone noticed how you feel about laurent

i don’t even think laurent fully notices how down bad damen is for him at this point. i think laurent just believes damen is a depraved pervert ruled by his base urges who uses sex slaves and finds him hot just like everyone else and also KILLED HIS BROTHER

‘Like this?’ The wait was deliberate, to make the Prince say it. ‘Like that.’

5d three-way dirty talk happening here. it’s not four ways because berenger definitely has clocked out by now

‘Take it all the way down,’ said the Prince, and Ancel took it deep into his throat.

i like how laurent’s dialogue is slightly different between the two scenes, and damen doesn’t register some of it, and ancel doesn’t register some of it. cool way of writing the different perspectives and showing the things that are distracting both of them, causing them to think about things other than laurent’s words. ancel is mostly thinking about how he can do this in a way that gets him noticed and hired, while damen is mostly thinking about how absurdly turned on he is by laurent being insane

Ancel half expected the Prince’s hand on his head, pushing him down the last inch, but when he glanced up, neither of the men were paying him any attention, their eyes locked on one another.

sorry ancel, they gaze a lot. it’s kind of their thing

He came up without coughing or needing a breath, a cultivated skill that was often admired.

not by damen or laurent, at the moment

It didn’t matter that the Prince didn’t seem pay him any attention, or that he was only a conduit. The slave wasn’t even looking at him. It was what he wanted.

ancel when he lies

The two of them were locked together, Ancel utterly forgotten as he rose unsteadily to his feet.

god that sucks ancel but it’s also so fucking funny (as i said in the capri chapter 5 notes, i am not taking the dubcon as seriously as i could because the book doesn’t take it seriously in this scene. damen’s rage isn’t at the lack of consent, because this is actually pretty normal to him, and not seen as demeaning in his society for a slave to do. i think more than anything else he’s mad at himself for being into this, which means that he’s mad at laurent and ancel for making him confront the fact that he’s into this)

Courtiers crowded around with accolades, comments, and congratulations. ‘You really are the perfect pet,’ and ‘I’ve never seen anyone take it like that,’ and, ‘I’d pay a fortune for you.’

but it doesn’t matter, because they’re not berenger

Berenger had a hand on his shoulder and was staring into his face. Ancel lifted his chin. ‘Did he hurt you?’ The words were short.

😭 😭 😭 😭

‘I liked it,’ said Ancel. ‘I like sucking cock. I’m a pet.’

ancel when he continues to lie

Torveld, Prince of Patras

oh i hate that guy

It was the blond slave from the bower. The insipid, spineless creature who made you want to pinch his skin, or shake him to wake up. Like a useless doe in a forest. Expecting someone else to help him. With looks like that, the blond slave could have owned this court if he’d put any work into it. Instead he was trembling and helpless and waiting for a rescue that was never going to come. It was irritating.

yeah. if not for my distance from both of these worlds, and the fact that i can afford to be more empathetic and thoughtful than ancel, this is about where i’d land too re: akelion slaves. (if you read my previous annotations of the series, i probably don’t have to tell you that.) i just like how strongly and disdainfully this is written, while still within itself being flawed. like he’s right, but it’s a sad kind of right. it’s pointing out the problem but disinterested in a solution. but it isn’t ancel’s job to have a solution, it’s the narrative’s job. and we see that happen, in a very careful slow burn from damen’s pov, during the main series.

i can’t believe people think that this series is slavery apologism. 99% of the time, this series is DETERMINED to hold itself painfully and uncomfortably responsible for the problematic content it contains. and that 1% is different for every person who reads it, based on their personal tastes and values. and that’s good, because even our favorite fiction should be something we engage with critically, rather than passively accept.

‘A whole night with the Regent?’ Ancel twirled the stick. ‘Aren’t you jealous?’ ‘I’m not jealous,’ said Nicaise. ‘You’re old.’

‘Then the Regent will call you to attend him. Everyone will see you sitting with him. That’s what you want, isn’t it? The bids for your contract will go up.’

i’m going to try to remember why this is happening. i know it’s some elaborate and probably petty bullshit. i think it’s something like 1) laurent got his ethics called into question by the guy who killed his brother and then 2) decided to do what damen asked and help the akelion slaves because he knew it was the right thing even though he hated damen so bad, therefore 3) laurent needed to create circumstances that would cause torveld to “save” them from the regent without his (laurent's) direct intervention so 4) laurent antagonized nicaise into making a bet that his (laurent’s) plan to get torveld to take the slaves wouldn’t work and then loudly talked about that plan in front of nicaise, prompting 5) nicaise to arrange a sadistic performance of slaves for the regent so the sadistic regent would want to keep the slaves, therefore winning nicaise the bet against laurent 6) which laurent knew would literally backfire because the fire would frighten the slaves and then prompt to torveld take them out of sympathy and pity. yeah i think that's it

It made Ancel angry. This mewling creature who had been brought to court and lavished with every opportunity that Ancel had worked for, was doing nothing to advance his own career, even now. But in the next moment Prince Torveld was calling the slave over, and—rather than booting him out of the hall—was fussing over him, talking to him, stroking his tousled blond head. Ancel gaped. Prince Torveld was taking the slave into his household? For what? For being too weak to survive at court? The unfairness was terrible. If Ancel had wanly lain down and waited for a rescuer, he would have died in the street.

i really like this short story. i like ancel’s character, and what the story is trying to say. it fits very nicely with the overall series themes about weakness/strength, submission/domination, and free will. also intimacy and trust, although that’s almost by omission.

‘Tell me about your master,’ the Regent said. ‘Lord Berenger.’ ‘He’s boring,’ said Ancel. ‘Serious. Loyal.’ ‘Loyal to my nephew,’ said the Regent. He spoke pleasantly, tweaking Ancel’s hair as he did so. The sharp tug hurt.

WOAH THIS IS COOL. we hardly got to see any of the regent’s private contributions to the complicated vere court nonsense in captive prince (there was that scene where he talked to damen alone, but that might have been it?)

‘Loyal to the throne.’ Ancel’s heart had started beating faster.

i like how the regent equates his nephew with the throne. so different from how he talks to laurent in front of the council. clearly, out of earshot of anyone who actually matters politically, the regent is threatened by his nephew.

‘I’ve heard he’s met with my nephew, several times. What was discussed?’ ‘I couldn’t say. I wasn’t there for the meetings.’ He kept his tone light. ‘So there were meetings.’

berenger you’re so real for that

His mouth felt dry suddenly, and it was hard to swallow. He thought of Berenger in the hall somewhere behind him, wondered if Berenger was looking at him, thought he probably wasn’t. ‘No. I mean that I don’t know—I don’t know what meetings he’s taken.’

ancel can tell that berenger is in danger, and even though he thinks berenger wants nothing to do with him, he tries to protect him

‘Oh dear.’ The tone was disappointed. ‘I thought you were clever.’ The Regent shifted, forcing Ancel to reposition, awkwardly. He was motioning for one of the servants to approach, looking past Ancel as though he was done with him. ‘I am.’ Ancel’s heart was pounding. ‘You just haven’t asked the right question.’ ‘And what’s that,’ said the Regent. ‘If I’m loyal,’ said Ancel.

and here’s the temptation of ancel finally getting what he’s always said he wanted, he just has to throw berenger under the bus. he tries to avoid this by making berenger irrelevant and putting the attention on himself, but we know that the regent does not give a shit about ancel, politically or sexually.

Ancel watched him turn away, watched him enter the darkened part of the rooms that held his bed, beginning to unlace his own jacket. ‘I didn’t tell him anything.’ The words were a blurt, delivered to the back of Berenger’s shoulders. Berenger’s movement came to a halt.

i really like ancel.

‘About you and the Prince. That you’ve been meeting secretly each night. That you’re taking his side, that you’ve offered him funding and passage through Varenne, I didn’t tell him any of that, I thought that you—’

oh shit it’s that deep!!! fuck yeah berenger! wait does that mean that berenger had been loyal to laurent and thinking he was an admirable person for months/years only to see laurent in full sadistic kinky joker mode with a person who he doesn't know is laurent's brother's killer? do you think he was like "oh great, he's actually a freak too. fuck my life"

Berenger turned. Berenger was across the room, his hands on Ancel’s arms, gripping him tightly, his eyes boring into Ancel’s. ‘Stop it. You’re spoiling my clothes. I didn’t tell him. I told you. I didn’t tell him anything.’

oh, ancel immediately thinks he’s going to be punished and stripped of the nice things he’s been given. that’s so fucking sad :(

‘How do you know about any of that?’ ‘Just because I like nice things, and don’t read the boring books you like, doesn’t mean I’m stup—’ ‘This isn’t a game, Ancel.’

most! normal! man! in! this! series!

‘I’m trying to secure my future! I need to go somewhere. After you—after you end my contract.'

true, and explains some of the desperation ancel typically chooses not to acknowledge because of his pride

‘So that’s it. You want gifts?’ Berenger said, in a flat, deadly voice, ‘Are you trying to blackmail me for money?’ Ancel felt his mouth turn to sand. ‘No.’

ancel doesn’t want gifts! he wants a friend!!! i love this story, especially in this shitty world!!!!

‘I don’t want—I told you, I didn’t tell him anything. I wouldn’t. I was your pet, I thought we—I don’t want your money like that—’

going to be HUGE when ancel learns how healthy friendships and relationships work. people just do nice things for each other, and are loyal to each other, because they care and it’s what they want to do

‘You must hate me.’ ‘Hate you?’ said Berenger. ‘Why would I hate you? You’ve always been honest with me. You never tried to hide what you were.’ ‘A whore,’ said Ancel.

oh fuck.

really, really good choice of a word there. it’s easy to get caught up in the insane gimmicks of the veretian court, the slight dark humor to it, the way pets act like they’re playing the game willingly because this is a way for them to be treated well and showered with praise. but deep down, this system exists so they can be perceived as whores, belonging and submissive to people whose power rests on their degradation. and deep down, that’s how they feel about themselves.

goddamn, it is cool to see the worldbuilding expanded upon from this perspective.

‘So what if I am? I’m not ashamed of it. I’m good at it. I can make men want me.’ His voice felt raw. ‘It just doesn’t work on you.’

FREE WILL, POWER, AND TRUST THEMES DING DING DING

Berenger would be just one more owner, one more man from his past, one more name on a list. There was a hard pressure in his chest that he had to ignore. He would turn and walk away from it, he would move on to the next man, and the next. ‘It works on me,’ said Berenger.

okay, i like it being romantic, i think. because just like damen and laurent, their friendship and romance are deeply connected. and i’m glad that these two characters can find each other and be REAL in the midst of the fake nonsense

The words, in Berenger’s honest voice, at first didn’t make sense.

ancel can’t accept praise if he knows the person giving it is being honest, understands who he truly is, and expects nothing in return. girl same

‘You’ve never—’ ‘You never wanted me to.’ ‘Is that what you think?’ said Ancel. ‘Yes,’ said Berenger, steadily.

berenger clocked that ancel didn’t really want to be any of this long before ancel did, and has always respected that. i’m glad that he exists in this world.

‘If the Regent prevails, I won’t have money or lands. You should be with someone who can give you the luxuries you deserve, not someone who’ll embroil you in—’ ‘That’s why?’ said Ancel. ‘That’s why you decided to break my contract?’ He made sense of that much. And he clung to it. He wanted to ask, Does that mean you’re not giving me up because you don’t want me? He didn’t know how to ask that. He was usually so good at asking for what he wanted.

this is so fucking good. oh my god, this short story has been like a masterclass of creating a contained and intimate plot that develops a character individually and in relation to another character, while using the world around them to synthesize relevant and gratifying thematic development. it just comes together so perfectly, and simultaneously feels laser-focused and extremely wide in scope. SO good.

‘Can you honestly tell me that you’d want to stay with me if it meant risking your position?’ Berenger said. ‘If I had no money?’ ‘I’ve never fucked anyone without it being for money.’ The words came out differently than he’d intended. The painfully straightforward way that Berenger had asked him that question meant that Ancel had given an honest answer.

they’re matching each other’s freak, if "freak" means “honest person moving towards a healthier state of mind.” meanwhile, damen and laurent—

It was Berenger who spoke. ‘When I saw you in the ring, I thought you were incredible. You were fearless, powerful. You took on every lord in the room, and beat them. I couldn’t take my eyes off you.’

oh i go crazy for “i want to possess you because i am compelled by your unique and attractive qualities and i want to keep you by my side, not because i want to degrade and reduce you until you’re beneath me.” which is probably why i really like the captive prince series by cs pacat, but not like 80% of fiction with similar kink-related premises

‘I don’t care what might happen.’ He was moving forward, because Berenger wanted him.

oh.

those two sentences didn’t quite get me to tear up, but uhhhh they came pretty close

‘If he fails,’ said Ancel. He was stepping into Berenger’s space. He put his hand on the laces of Berenger’s jacket, and Berenger didn’t move away. ‘But if he wins?’

:’) the metatextual conversation this story has been having with the reader the entire time, tied in perfectly with the events at the forefront. really, really well done.

final notes:

not going to lie, i think i liked this short story more than 40-60% of king’s rising. damn.

honestly, i kind of hope ancel and berenger don’t end up together immediately. berenger is still 10 years older than ancel, and is like the first person in ancel’s life to show him respect. what rings truest to me is the idea of them being close friends and allies especially during the turbulent wartimes, and hooking up a few times and enjoying it, but a much more confident ancel eventually considering other partners and at least making more friends. either ancel doesn’t end up romantically with berenger because there’s someone even better suited for him romantically and sexually, or he decides that he truly does want berenger because even though there are other people who would love him for who he is, none of them are berenger. either way, they’re close friends the entire time and it’s very sweet. i like them a lot.

[madwomansapologist]

──────〃✰ KINKTOBER DAY 17: 𝐂𝐎𝐑𝐑𝐔𝐏𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐊

title: training session synopsis: you're tired of being treated like a glass about to be shattered. if he will have you whole, than it's only fair you receive the same. [1.3K] cw: established relationship, corruption kink, finger sucking, masturbation (m!receiving), oral (m!receiving), cum eating.

PREV POST ✰ NEXT POST

You couldn’t recall for how long you slept on the bathtub. The water was cold, and tired steps showed you he was back. It wasn’t your intention to sleep, but you also haven’t fought against your heavy eyelids when they started to fail.

Sat on the couch of your shared bedroom, Shan Yu studied a map of the region ahead. He rested his chin on his palm, elbow into his thighs, as Shan Yu tried to come with new. Old mountains, wide villages. To ensure his armies will have the advantage, not a detail went unnoticed by his yellow eyes.

Except, of course, by your presence.

You admired his determination. That fire in his eyes, a flame you never saw oscillate before. The frown, one you wanted to caress with your fingers until the skin became soft and relaxed. His broad shoulders, strong arms, accurate fingers.

By the time he bit his tongue, whispering to himself about altitude and weight, your body was already burning. Watching the muscle twitch between his teeth, your imagination took control over you. More precisely, your memories took control over you.

Shan Yu is, surprisingly, selfless when it comes to loving you. Or maybe he is selfish in a way only the most selfless of lovers could understand. It’s all about you. He seeks after your pleasure, aches to receive your approval. But that’s not enough for you.

Does that make you a selfish lover passing as a selfless?

Because you love your pleasure, but you want his. You need to see Shan Yu falling apart against your touch, barely breathing beneath you, eyes half-closed as he turns vulnerable for you. You need to have Shan Yu feeling as good as he makes you feel.

He only noticed your presence as you cold hand land over his shoulder. Focused on his work, Shan Yu didn’t look in your direction. He simply held your hand and kissing your knuckles. “I only need a moment”, he murmured before letting you go.

A humid sensation made him look away from the map. Supporting your chin on his thighs, wet hair rubbing against his skin, you kneeled between his legs. Wearing nothing but a towel, your sweet smile was the reason for his heartbeat to fail.

His hand cupped your cheek, thumb stroking the soft skin beneath his. Shan Yu sighed, shoulders relaxing as he admired you. He must have done something extraordinary in a past life to be gifted you. Such a darling. Perfect in every sense, from your sweetest smile to the most hateful bickering.

Shan Yu wonders if you’re not the daughter of a water sprite sometimes. It would fit you per-

His eyes widened when Shan Yu realized what he was ignoring. “Get up”, he tried to pull upwards, but you remained kneeled. He pats the couch, brows furrowed. “There is enough space for you here.”

“I can see that”, you said. Holding his hand, rubbing your face against it, the other pulled the weak knot on the towel. The fabric fell around you, cold skin revealed for his eyes to see. “But I’m not there, am I?”

Shan Yu closed his eyes, tilting his head back. “You should get dressed.”

You bit the inside of your cheeks. “I should want you to get dressed,” you said, voice muffled as you kissed his palm. Hands rubbing against his thick thighs, you waited for Shan Yu to look at you again. “That’s what you truly mean.”

“You don’t need to do this”, said Shan Yu. But as his thumb continued stroking your cheek, you knew you were about to win. “It feels like a sin to stain you with my every perversion. I’m more than glad to indulge you.”

“Perversion?” At that, you only laughed. Shan Yu gives himself too much credit. “A sin to stain me, you said? Shouldn’t you feel the same about anyone who dares ignore my free will to see me as a sacrificial lamb instead?”

It was Shan Yu’s turn to laugh. It was less confident than yours. “You really want this?”

He sounded so confused. As if he couldn’t believe you would want to pleasure him. Again, surprising. For a man that wants to own the world, Shan Yu may have as many great romantic experiences as you. That makes you wonder who’s corrupting who now.

“Would I be kneeling if I didn’t?”

Looking at you, he searched for any sign of doubt. After seeing none, Shan Yu nodded. The thumb stopped moving, hand limp against your face. His finger rubbed lightly against your lower lip, feeling how soft it was.

You opened your mouth without waiting for an instruction.

“Careful with your teeth”, he corrected. Divided between scratching your head and grabbing your hair, Shan Yu made sure to look into your eyes. “Don’t be shy now. Make a mess for me.”

As you drooled over his finger, Shan Yu added another one. They were larger than yours, and reached deeper into your mouth. Closing your eyes, you tried to tilt your hair lower. You gagged around him, but it wasn’t reason enough for you to stop.

To reward your eagerness, Shan Yu leaned towards you. His hand travelled lower, pinching your nipples with the pressure he learned you prefer. He rubbed your back, scratching all the sensitive places there. Kissing your forehead, Shan Yu listened to the symphony you created.

He took his fingers off of your mouth, replacing it by his tongue. Your breath was warm, kiss wet and untamed. As he tasted you, Shan Yu allowed your hands to free his cock.

With his back against the couch, he admired the way you too learned how and where to touch him. How can you be always so good for him? He doesn’t deserve you.

“Can I?” You asked one last time, dying to hear his permission. “Please.”

Shan Yu nodded, watching the sparkle in your eyes shine brighter.

His composure failed the moment you placed a sweet, innocent kiss on the head of his cock. You moved your knees, looking for a better position. Looking into his eyes, this time not to taunt but to see his reactions, you licked from the base until the place you just kissed.

Pumping his cock, you caressed his balls with your fingertips. Shan Yu closed his eyes, enjoying every attempt of you to discover something new about his body. His breath burned in his throat with the feeling of your mouth as you make out with his head, hand instinctively moving towards your hair.

“Always so careful”, he groaned. “You can be harsh with me. I can take it.”

And you obeyed. Closing your eyes, you gave Shan Yu everything you had. Just like he doesn’t think twice before sinking between your thighs, you made a mess between his.

Feeling the fingers made sweet caresses on your head. Hearing his voice fail as he praises you. You gagged on him, determined to only stop when he is done. When his cock twitched between your lips, you moaned.

At that, Shan Yu lost control. No biting his lips or listing the things he had to do could stop him from reaching his limit. He pushed your head back, fucking his hand as the orgasm took over him.

Shan Yu managed to look at you. Lips sensitive, chin covered in drool. All of his cum was placed near his belly button. Good. It was already embarrassing how fast he finished, it would be even worse to cum on your throat and make you uncomfortable.

“You are so good for me”, Shan Yu laughed. “How you-”

Before the words could left his lips, you used his thighs as leverage. As you propped yourself higher, you licked the cum on his belly looking into his eyes. You grabbed the towel on the floor, using it to clean your chin and chest.

“Will it take too long?” You pointed at the maps.

Shan Yu shook his head. “No”, he whispered. “Not at all.”

taglist: @ffinosie @lovelyy-moonlight @alzaira @s2-angells @eyes-ofhell @inlovewithmariah @chiiyohiimee @shaquilles-0atmeal @bloodyziggy @salemey @kcch-ns @notanalienindisguiseblink @py-schi @miyanosm @idonthaveanameforthisacc

© all rights reserved to MADWOMANSAPOLOGIST

[purrpickle]

Okay, okay, I have too many disjointed thoughts in my head, so I am going to compile them here instead of posting smattering of posts here and there:

Pin throwing stones into the pond after stating she was heading to the kitchens... Icon. Iconic. So relatable.

Then Anil angrily picking up a stone and throwing one into the pond before stalking away because her kiss was interrupted and her archenemy was there? Peak cinema. Such good parallels, too, with how Anil treats and acts her feelings for and about Pin versus how Pin treats and acts her feelings for and about Anil. A+!

That little Pin flashback. I stated it already, but it made me tear up. So good, so painful. Wow.

That night at the Pine Palace, from Anil comforting Pin to through the puzzle scene, truly felt to me the first time that Anil and Pin fell back into their old friendship and rapport. They were finally comfortable with each other, and you could see the friendship and closeness they grew up with still there! That intimacy. Sure, Anil was still flirting, but I think demonstrating to Pin that the girl who truly cared for her was still there and not just taken over by this new flirt monster (who seemed to be flirting with everyone else too, mind you), it really made Pin relax and be open and welcome to Anil again. And they needed that.

Speaking of that night at the Pine Palace. Pin wearing purple, a mix of pink and blue, showing how open and accepting of what's going to happen. And Anil, wearing her blue checkered dress with the pink lines? Spoke to me of being in control but also allowing Pin back in and welcoming her. Ugh, from someone only peripherally aware of color coordination and theory and all that, I still picked up on the significance of their colors and cheered! The visual storytelling!

And... Yeah. That kissing game. Unlike a lot of Anil's previous flirting which always felt to me like Anil doing it to Pin, this truly felt like Anil doing this with Pin, and that distinction truly makes all the difference. It was the perfect time for that to happen with the two of them - Pin still feeling a little vulnerable from being terrified in front of Anil but also feeling reassured from that vulnerability because she knows Anil will be there for her like she always used to be, and Anil feeling accepted by Pin because, without even a single thought, Pin still turned to her and buried herself into her arms when she got terrified, seeking her out, seeking what only Anil could give her, out. This episode really maneuvered both girls into exactly where they needed to be to make this happen and feel real and right, and it was perfect. So perfect.

Their chemistry and intimacy. 'Nuff said.

[bitethedevil]

The Devil's Dinner Party (Raphael x Tav)

Chapters: 1 / 2 / 3 (Finished)

Link to the fic on AO3

Summary: Tav accepts Raphael’s invitation to a dinner party after she had handed him the Crown of Karsus. None of her companions show up, so it is just her, Raphael, and a bunch of Raphael’s favored clients. Raphael is suspiciously kind to her, but everything might not be as perfect as it seems. (This is only the first chapter, it’s going to be a longer thing)

(AN: This isn’t super edited and it’s the first fic that I’ve ever posted, so bear with me. English isn’t my first language either, so there might be some odd words or weird grammar some places. I am an English major though, so hopefully it shouldn’t be too bad. This fic has just been gnawing on my mind since I started it yesterday. There will be more chapters.)

Tav took a deep breath to calm her nerves and adjusted her dress before stepping into the portal. She arrived in the foyer of the House of Hope in a swirl of embers and smoke. A tiefling servant greeted her politely when she appeared. Tav was ushered into the area where Raphael had brought them in the beginning of their adventure all that time ago. It looked the same, except the table in the center of the room had been switched out with a larger one.

She looked around the room in search of a familiar face. She cursed her companions internally when she noticed that she was the only one of them who had accepted Raphael’s invitation. She had thought that at least Astarion would have jumped at the chance to attend such a fancy event.

However, she was not the only person there. There were at least fifteen other people present who she had no idea who was. None of them devils. At least not as far as Tav could tell. Most likely, they were also favored clients of Raphael.

All the people around her were dressed in opulent clothing and jewelry. Tav felt grateful that she had decided on buying new clothes for the occasion, despite her almost attending in an old dress she had found in the back of her closet.

A drink was placed in her hand by one of the servants. She took a long sip to calm her nerves. She looked around for the one familiar face that she knew for certain would be attending, but the devil she knew was nowhere to be seen. Most likely he was somewhere waiting for the perfect moment for his dramatic entrance. Tav rolled her eyes at the thought and took yet another sip of her drink.

She suddenly noticed that a few of the other guests started looking in her direction. She jumped when she felt a hand being gently placed on her back.

“My, what have we here?” a familiar voice purred.

Raphael came up beside her. He was wearing his usual smug smile and even fancier clothes than she was used to seeing him in.

“I’m glad you came,” he said with a slight bow. “It shows that you have better manners than your dear friends, it seems.”

“So it seems…” Tav said, still feeling slightly bitter about the fact that they did had not shown up. “I apologize on their behalf. I’m sure they had good reasons.”

“I’m sure…” Raphael said with a smile that did not quite reach his eyes. “But no matter. You are here. The guest of honor whose name went on the contract that ensured me the crown. Without you, there would be no celebration tonight.”

“Mm…right…” Tav said quietly while absentmindedly swirling the contents of the glass she was holding.

There it was again. That nauseous feeling of guilt and anxiety that she had also felt when she had handed the Crown of Karsus to him. It had been her name on the contract. It had been her who handed him an artifact that potentially could destroy worlds and gods know what else.

It had been the whole reason that she could not decline his invitation as her friends had. Most of her companions had wanted to turn a blind eye to the idiotic actions of their leader and forget about it. Tav needed to see. Her attendance was a desperate attempt to gain some semblance of control over the situation.

“And if I may be so bold…” Raphael said in a hushed voice, shaking her from her train of thought. “What a precious sight. To see you in proper clothes instead of that ragged armor you wore when we first met. You look wonderful, my dear.”

Tav blinked as she wrestled herself away from the anxious thoughts in her head to return to reality. She dumbly looked down at her dress and then back at Raphael.

“Oh, thank you,” she said and forced a polite smile. “You look nice as well.”

Raphael gave her a smile and briefly squeezed her shoulder before walking to the center of the room to properly welcome his guests and invite them to sit down.

The dinner itself was as one could expect when dining in the House of Hope. There was every kind of food that you could possibly imagine. There were also expensive wines from all corners of the realms. The servants constantly ran back and forth to make sure that no one lacked anything.

To Tav’s great relief, she had been seated beside a talkative stranger, so she did not have to sit through the dinner in silence. The stranger was a young half-elf, who introduced himself as Rolim. Tav could gather that he was a merchant of some sort. He was quite handsome with his sharp elvish features. He had blonde hair, brown eyes, and a bright smile when he talked.

Tav barely got a word in while he was talking, but she found that she did not mind. He talked excitedly about the success of his business and the new mansion he had recently acquired. No doubt with the help of a certain devil, Tav suspected.

The few times Tav turned her attention away from the young man, she noticed Raphael unashamedly studying her from the other end of the table. He did not eat, but simply drank wine while he looked as if he was barely listening to the two people on either side of him who were eagerly speaking to him.

“…Don’t you agree?” Rolim asked her and pulled her attention away from Raphael’s gaze.

“Hm?” she said, having no idea what he was asking her.

“That Baldur’s Gate might be a promising place to expand my business to. That is where you said you were from, yes?” Rolim said with a smile.

“Oh yes, it is,” Tav said with a polite smile. “Certainly. Although I have to admit that I don’t know a whole lot about how it is to run a business in the Gate.”

“I think it could be promising,” Rolim continued cheerfully. “Perhaps I could visit sometime, and you could show me around the city?”

Oh. He was flirting with her, Tav realized.

“Hm, yes,” she said with a forced smile. “Perhaps…May I ask you something, Rolim?”

“Of course!” he said.

Tav leaned a bit closer to him and lowered her voice so that no one else would eavesdrop.

“I hope it’s not rude to ask, but why is it that you were invited here exactly?” she asked.

“Oh,” he spoke in an almost exaggerated hushed voice to match Tav’s. “I can’t really tell you the specifics, but I am a client of Raph’s.”

Tav suppressed a giggle. ‘Raph’? No doubt Raphael hated that.

“Right,” she said. “I thought as much. Just curious.”

Their talk was interrupted by a clinging on glass. Raphael got up from his chair to hold a speech. He started out by thanking those who had attended. Then it turned into a predictably dramatic and theatrical speech about his desire for the crown and his eventual success. He then, surprisingly, also credited the person who had brought him the crown. He spoke warmly of Tav exclusively, completely disregarding her fellow adventurers, much to her discomfort since everyone was staring at her while he did. She forced a smile until it was over.  

She was beyond relieved when it was finally over, and the other guests had stopped staring at her like she was a monkey in a zoo.

“It was you?” Rolim asked once the moment was over. “You defeated the elderbrain? Why didn’t you say? You’re the hero of Baldur’s Gate!”

“It wasn’t just me,” she said a bit too harshly. It annoyed her that her companions had not been credited in Raphael’s speech. “It was me and a whole lot of other people that I could not have done it without.”

“Still, you did it!” Rolim said excitedly. “I’ve heard the bards sing of it even in my corner of Faerûn.”

To Tav’s luck, people were beginning to leave the table. She saw her opportunity to escape the conversation and did not hesitate to take it.

“I’m going to get some air,” she said hurriedly. “I’ll be back in a moment.”

“Alright, but when you get back, I want to hear all about it!” Rolim called after her.

She walked through the house, desperate to get away from all the noise and curious looks for a moment. She found a balcony. She leaned up against the railing and closed her eyes for a moment while taking deep breaths.

All of it was just too much. She hated it. She shouldn’t have gone. She wasn’t a hero. A hero would not have handed the crown to a bloody devil. Baldur’s Gate might have been saved, but who could say what destruction the future might have in store with such powers in Raphael’s hands?

There was a reason why she had isolated herself after the defeat of the elderbrain. She never attended the events that she had been invited to by the city, because she could not look any of the people there in the eyes while they celebrated her. Her companions. Her friends. They were the real heroes. They had all suffered and overcome so much, even before the whole tadpole business. She might have wasted all of it by making one stupid decision.

She took another deep, shaky breath to calm her nerves and stop the tears that were threatening to fall. The view of the hellscape of Avernus did nothing to calm her. It was disorientating. It was night, but still it looked like it was day over the jagged and desolate red landscape.

“Enjoying the view?”

She jumped and turned around to find Raphael sitting down on one of the chairs behind her.

“You have got to stop scaring the shit out of me,” she said. “It’s getting old, Raphael.”

Raphael chuckled.

“Language,” he chided. “It’s hardly my fault that you are such a nervous little thing.”

She rolled her eyes.

“I’m sure your guests miss you,” she said. “I will be back in a moment. I just needed some air. I’m not going to snoop around in your house or anything.”

“I know you wouldn’t dare,” Raphael said smoothly while studying her with a tilted head. “My guests will be fine. No doubt they can fill each other’s ears with mindless chatter instead of mine. Sit.”

He gestured to the chair on the opposite side of the small table beside him.

“It’s fine, really,” she said. “I just needed a moment.”

“Sit,” he ordered again. “Something is clearly on your mind, dear.”

She could hear from his tone that he would not let it go, so she sat down.

Raphael snapped his fingers and a hookah appeared on the table. Tav raised an eyebrow and looked from the hookah to Raphael. They sat in silence for a moment as Raphael prepared it. Despite her restless mind, she could not help being slightly amused at the odd gesture.  

Raphael placed the mouthpiece at the end of the hose between his lips, took a long drag and exhaled the smoke smoothly. Then he offered it to Tav.

“For those pesky nerves of yours.”

“Oh,” Tav said and waved her hand dismissively at the gesture. “I’ve never smoked before.”

“There’s a first for everything, no?” he said. “Indulging once won’t kill you.”

Tav sighed slightly and took the hose of the hookah from his hand. She placed the mouthpiece between her lips and cautiously inhaled the smoke. She started coughing hard as she exhaled.

“Or perhaps it will,” Raphael chuckled as he took it back from her to take another drag.

As her coughing fit subsided, she felt light-headed. However, just as Raphael said, it did also make her feel somewhat more relaxed.

“Now,” Raphael said. “Tell me what it is that troubles you.”

“It’s nothing,” Tav said and shook her head.

“Don’t lie to me,” he said calmly. “I can see it in your eyes. I have my suspicions as to what could be bothering you, of course. Tell me and I promise you, I will not take offense.”

She looked at him. She did not know if was the effect of the wine, the hookah or the almost kind tone of Raphael’s voice that made her want to tell him everything. She wanted to tell him all those things that she had kept to herself and that had eaten away at her insides for months after the defeat of the elderbrain.

“I feel like a failure,” she said, her voice almost breaking at the confession. “We went through so much. Saved so many people back then. And for what? For me to hand over the crown to you. That was my decision…”

There was not as much as a trace of anger on Raphael’s face as she explained. He even looked somewhat sympathetic. He listened attentively while occasionally taking drags from the hookah.

“I saw it in their eyes, you know? I still do,” she said looking out over the balcony with an empty stare. “They didn’t say anything about it, but I know they were disappointed with my decision. I don’t blame them.”

“You are entirely too hard on yourself, mouse,” Raphael said. “You did what you had to do, as a good leader should. They are in no position to judge you.”

“No, they should. They should judge me,” she countered. “The defeat of the elderbrain was a product of their hard work as well. I robbed them of having a say in the final decision. I would never have gotten that far if it had not been for them, and I still spat in their face, and stupidly chose an option that might one day destroy all we fought to save.”

“Do not speak so low of yourself,” Raphael said in an almost angry tone. “It was your right to make that decision. You say that you would not have gotten that far without them, but that is where you are wrong. They would never have gotten that far without you. You made the difficult choices. You took on responsibility when no one else stepped forward.”

“But– “

“No, Tav,” Raphael interrupted.  “I will not stand listening to you speak ill of yourself in such a manner, when you only did what none of your companions had the sense of responsibility to do. They closed their eyes and handed the reins to you when things became unsavory, did they not? Is that not why none of them are present tonight?”

Tav hated what he was saying, but he did have a point. They had once again looked away and left the mess to her. She would also have been lying if she said that it had not been something that had irked her even back then. How they would leave the decisions to her, but still complain about it when they disagreed. She did offer them plenty of opportunities to take her place, but none of them ever stepped forward.

Raphael knew that he had hit a nerve and softened his tone.

“They don’t deserve you,” he said. “I meant what I said in the speech, when I said that you were the one to defeat the elderbrain. Without you, they would have gotten themselves killed long before they could even reach Baldur’s Gate.”

Raphael took one last drag and got up from his seat. He stood in front of her.

“As for my plans with the crown…” he said and extended a hand to her. “Come. I want to show you something.”

She took it and got up from her seat as well.

“You really ought to get back to your guests, Raphael,” she said as she held the crook of his arm as he brought her through the house.

“And neglect my very favorite guest? Nonsense,” he said with a charming smile.

He brought her to his archive. Artifacts were beautifully displayed on pedestals. Raphael brought her to the pedestal in the middle of the archive. She squinted at the paper displayed on the pedestal.

“Is that...?”

“Your contract, yes,” he said. “It still is one of my most precious possessions.”

She looked at her own signature at the bottom of the document. Then she read the sign beside it: ‘A most-cherished client.’  

It was sweet, in a way, that he would display it in such a manner, Tav thought for a brief moment. Then she immediately shook the thought away. This was Raphael, after all. She immediately became aware that she was still holding his arm even though they had stopped. She instinctively let go of it.

“Why are you showing me this?” she asked with curiosity.

“To remind you of our deal, of course,” he said. “You never did read it, did you?”

“It’s in Infernal,” she said with a shrug.

“Perceptive as ever,” Raphael chuckled. “Yes, it is. Though, had you asked, I would gladly have translated it…Would you like me to read it to you?”

She hesitated for a moment. Perhaps, it was better to not know. There was nothing that she could do about it now, after all. Still…she was curious.

“Please,” she said and gestured to it.

Raphael smiled at her before he started reading the first clause in Infernal. It shook her slightly to hear him speak in another language. Infernal being such a harsh and guttural language. Raphael spoke it with ease. Tav found it oddly attractive, which was no doubt an intentional effect that Raphael was well-aware of.

He went through each clause, first in Infernal and then in the common tongue. Tav found herself, not for the first time, lost in the way he spoke and that velvety voice of his. Especially because he made a show of looking at her while he did it. Impressively, he could recite most of the contract by memory.

When he was done, Tav surprisingly found herself more reassured than worried. It did contain all the things that they had agreed on. Raphael would not use the crown to dominate mortals and the crown would stay in the Hells.

“So, as you can see,” he said and gestured to the contract. “There is nothing to worry your pretty head over.”

She glanced at the contract again. She did feel less worried, but she also still felt like there could be something that she was missing.  

“I have never lied to you, Tav,” Raphael said as if he had just read her thoughts. “And I have always dealt fairly with you, have I not?”

“That’s debatable,” Tav said and looked at him. “We did exchange an insanely powerful artifact for a bloody hammer.”

Raphael laughed.

“An insanely powerful artifact that none of you would ever be able to harness the power of, in exchange for a ‘bloody hammer’ that your very survival depended on.”

“Hm,” Tav huffed stubbornly.

“Hm,” Raphael teased and mimicked her huff with an amused smile. “Come. Let us get back to those guests of mine that you seem to be so worried about.”

Raphael gently put his arm around her shoulders to guide her out of the archive. His little touches and his gentleness with her did not go unnoticed by Tav, but she found that she did not mind. Even though she knew better. She should be suspicious. She knew she should, but it was hard when the man was so damn charming about it.

[urrockstar-xe]

sneaking out - t.c x fem!reader

posted jan 21st, 2024 10:50 am

@dingus85 asked : May I request a Tara Carpenter x fem!reader based on Cruel Summer- Taylor Swift where they have been sneaking out to the beach every night (scenario 5). This time they’re just being stupid, and reader accidentally confesses that she likes her. Somewhere in the fic Tara uses one liner 18.

im so sorry for the wait love, I hope u enjoy.

masterlist

not proofread

wordcount: 0.9k

It was Chad’s idea to have one big group vacation for the summer, a simple nearly 50-hour road trip from New York to California. A few weeks on the beach to help everyone recover from the first semester of college and some time for Sam and Tara to learn how to be away from each other again.

Every small-town kid needs a Beach Vacation, right? Well actually, your plans for the summer were to find a good job but just when you wanted to argue, Mindy pointed out that you could share a room with Tara, and Tara responded by clapping her hands together, smiling at you and

“We’ll have so much fun!” 

How could you say no to that?

Everyone had taken turns driving, except for Mindy, her job was to make sure everyone had enough snacks and to ensure you’d make it to the Airbnb in one piece.

You were lucky enough to find one on the beach, giving easy access to the water and the sand that Mindy soon found to be an incredible nuisance, Anika was enjoying the chance to dress up in different beach weather outfits and there was also the perfect spot to play volleyball which Chad forced everyone to do.

And then there were you and Tara, you had the same favorite part of this vacation and it was the late-night bonfires.

You had only one with all of you involved but the following night you both snuck out together to start up another one, and this quickly became routine for the both of you.

You couldn’t help but enjoy this silly game you were playing in your head even if Tara didn’t realize you were playing at all. Sharing a bed, waking up early enough to make breakfast, making the bed, and taking turns to shower after beach days just to sneak off and come back smelling like firewood. 

It was perfect for you, and maybe it was for Tara too, but obviously, you weren’t going to ask. 

Tonight was one of your last nights in California and none of you were ready to leave, except Mindy, who wanted to go home the first week. But of course, you were most worried about going home, everything would go back to normal and you could no longer live in your little bubble with Tara and her soft smiles and giggly laughs,

and your little sneak-out “dates” that were just for you and Tara.

But that just meant you had to make the most of it, which leads you outside sitting on an old beach towel next to the pretty girl, watching the pit of flames dance before your eyes. 

“I’m not ready to go home yet, I like sneakin’ out with you.” Tara’s voice caught your attention, turning to look at her as she spoke. She was thinking the same as you. “We could always sneak out together back in New York” You spoke in the same quiet tone, as if you weren’t allowed to speak louder than the sound of the sea.

Tara pouted, “It’s not the same, though.” Oh. You nodded in agreement looking back at the fire. 

“I wanna go swimming,” She said suddenly, standing up and taking off her sweater, well your sweater, you had let her wear. “Tara, you’ll freeze” You smiled, knowing she wouldn’t listen anyway as she was already walking towards the water, tossing her sweatpants to you as you laughed. 

You watched amused as she eventually made it to the water, she hesitated, “C’mon, my girl Tara Carpenter doesn’t back down from stupid stuff!” You called out in a teasing tone, hearing her laugh as she threw her head back before running straight into the water, “Holy shit!” she yelled, squealing as she resurfaced.

You laughed as Tara ran back up to you, soaking wet and gratefully thanking you as you put the towel around your shoulders. “That was so stupid” she laughed, shivering slightly as you rubbed her arms, laughing with her as you attempted to warm her up. 

“That is why I like you so much” You had barely noticed the words come out as Tara’s smile softened, staring at you with a tilted head and puppy dog eyes. “What?” Tara’s voice was quieter now, still having a slightly shaky tone as she was still freezing. 

“What?” you repeated the question, you could backtrack, sure but Tara wasn’t stupid, she wouldn’t believe that no matter how well you sold it she saw it in your eyes, 

you’re so screwed, you almost laughed.

“What did you say? You like me?” Tara’s grip on the towel tightened a little, that soft look on her face capturing you the way it always did. You opened your mouth to speak but closed it, not knowing how to explain yourself in a way that made sense but Tara spoke up instead.

“Come here and kiss me, dummy” She smiled, and you didn’t want to waste any time as your hands moved to her face and pulled her in, cold, soft lips hitting yours as if they were meant to be on yours. Tara abandoned the towel to hold your wrists. 

“You are so catching a cold,” You said through heavy breaths earning a sweet laugh in response.

“Yeah, but you’ll take care of me.” you smiled at that because obviously you would.

“Yeah, I will.” You said, Tara smiled back.

“I think I will sneak out with you back in New York.”

[vincentbriggs]

Good sir, I am hoping to pick your brain. I’m making an 18-century (“pirate”) shirt as a gift to my friend. He wants tie closures on the neck and cuffs instead of buttons. Might you have any insight or resources for this? I’ve seen the ties in at least one of the extant shirts I’ve viewed online. I’m still pretty new to the sewing gig and I’d like to minimize inventing metaphorical wheel as much as possible. Thanks in advance!

It's very unusual, but do know of one example! (Not that extant one though)

But first - Link to my most thorough shirt construction blog post. (It's a few years old and I've improved a few little things in my technique since then, and I mean to finish writing a new and better one before the year is over.)

Ok, ties on shirts! I'm assuming this is the extant one you're talking about? Tbh I'd discount this one entirely if you're looking for information on 18th century men's shirts because I don't think it is one.

Besides the attached ties, the sleeves are extremely weird. They're cut off and have no wristbands!! This would make it quite impossible to wear under a coat, the wristbands are an absolutely essential part of an 18th century shirt. I also don't see any reason to believe this is actually 18th century when it could just as easily be 19th century, and considering how short the slit is I think that more likely.

(Lots of auction sellers like to say "late 18th century" about things that are like... yeahh maaaaybe that's plausibly from a very fashion forward guy in the late 1790's but it's much more likely early 19th century. And with court dress they sometimes just straight up date it several decades too early. Look at lots of examples and always question everything, because museums don't always date things correctly either.)

I think I remember seeing someone mention once that it was a 19th century workman's garment of some sort, but I can't remember where, and all we've got to go on are a few pictures and a brief caption from a seller who doesn't know what they're talking about. It does look like it could have been worn over another layer though, and the fabric is very coarse. It could also have been altered at a later date for theatrical costume, which is something the Victorians did to A LOT of 18th century garments.

So just ignore that shirt!

The vast majority of 18th century mens shirts close with 2 or 3 buttons on the collar, but there is a style that uses ribbons. It appears to have been fairly common in the late 17th and early 18th century, and then slowly dwindles as the century goes on. I have a section for it on my shirts pinterest board with 64 examples. Ooh, wait, 65, just found a new one.

The collar is made with little to no overlap and one buttonhole on each end, and a ribbon is threaded through them.

Portrait of Carl Gustaf Tessin, 1728.

Sir Charles Howard, 1738.

I actually made one of these last year!

The collar doesn't sit as well with the ribbon as it does with 2 buttons, but once you put a stock over it it's fine.

Nearly every single depiction of an 18th century shirt I've ever seen (and I've spent a LOT of time looking) uses sleeve links on the wristbands. (Which I have a tutorial for! They're really easy to make!) I do sleeve links on most of my everyday shirts because I like them better than sewn on buttons. When the wristband is this narrow, sewn on buttons don't sit very nicely.

But! If your friend wants ties on the wrist in a historical way, I do know of one single example, and it's this guy!

Giovanni Maria delle Piane, Portrait of a nobleman. No date given, but if I had to guess I'd say 1680's or 90's. Very late 17th century looking fellow.

We can't see his collar closure, but I think it's very possible that he has a matching red ribbon holding that closed.

Personally I wouldn't want to try these, because they look like an absolute nightmare to tie by yourself one handed. But the good news is that you could make just regular wristband that take sleeve links and they'd work for this too, since both just have a buttonhole at each end! I aim for a finished wristband length that's 10-14mm longer than my wrist measurement, with the buttonhole being about 4 or 5mm in from the edge, which gives me enough ease to wear them comfortably with sleeve links, so if you do that then he'll be able to wear them both ways.

[asoulwithadream]

EXCLUSIVE FALL PREVIEWS

Mates. LADS. BRETHEREN.

I think I'm going to die now. AAAAAAAAAAAAH—

BUT OF COURSE WHAT WOULD BE THE SENSE OF MY EXISTENCE IF I DIDN'T SHARE MY OWN PERSONAL THOUGHTS ON THESE BEAUTIFUL THINGS BEFORE THE MEDICINE KICKS IN.

The Crew — I think this is where they see LUCIUS!!!! I'm so very convinced this is where they meet Lucius. As we can see, they're all in the same clothing as the Vanity Fair first looks, where Black Pete is visibly overjoyed. But can't you see that he is missing from this shot? Probably snogging Lucius' face off or hugging him or doing something as such.

Lucius probably popped around the corner in the Vanity Fair one, and now they're sharing an intimate moment (keeping it PG) on deck while the rest of the happy crew watches on (as visible from Roach's, Oluwande's, and Wee John's faces). Of course, Buttons has no interest in human adoration, and instead looks on towards his own lover, the sea.

Stede is looking quite perplexed, or maybe contemplatively—perhaps as a result of Lucius telling Stede what happened to him. He doesn't look directly all that happy, does he?

(OMG OMG OMG WHY DO THEY ALL LOOK SO HAPPY EXCEPT STEDE BUT OLU YOU DEAREST MAN AND THEY'RE LOOKING SNAZZY AND I LOVE THEIR SOCKS I'M AHHAHASIJDHKAE)

Stede — That's the floor of the Revenge guys. I know it well since the last time Stede was pushed onto it. (Solidarity for the harm that the foot touch caused in these trying times) He is wearing what looks to be ye olde fencing gloves, and this means that was just handling a sword. (Though, he could have been using the cannons; we all know Stede would probably confuse fencing gloves for heavy artillery)

There are a few scenarios I can find at the top of my head: he's either training with Izzy (though would that explain his terrified expression? maybe)—we also see the lack of the red ribbon, which I think he removed when he teams up with Izzy, for whatever reason—or he's been duelling with someone else, someone who is extremely better at swordsmanship, someone we know to have been excellent at both maiming and receiving stab wounds. Has he been fighting with Edward?

I think it's the former, but who knows? The best part of theorising is being wrong, after all. I guess we can just gang up and say "calm down mr wavey blade" to whoever is behind this. Plus, do I see traced of some fuzz on his chin? Confirmed baby steard, guys???

(He's such an ICON I WANT TO BREATHE HIS HAIR AND SEE IT BEHIND MY EYELIDS. In the wise words of Rhys Darby, "I wish I had his hair". BUT LIKE HONESTLY WHAT'S GOING ON HERE WHY DOES HE LOOK LIKE HE'S SEEN A GHOST)

Frenchie and Ed — This has me on actual alarm bells mode. I can't tell whether or not this is Blackbeard or post-Blackbeard era—he's not wearing any dark chunky make-up, and has his hair up in his classic, beautiful half-up half-down, and we finally get a more close-up and clear shot of his earring, which we first spotted from the Vanity Fair first looks?

A detail I spotted for Frenchie's new goth uniform, which he is still wearing in this shot (further confusing me on the timeline of this image)—I think that his jacket is the very same from the "The Best Revenge Is Dressing Well" episode, which is so incredibly sweet and a beautiful little detail to connect back to season 1. I'd like to think he customised it himself, since we know Frenchie can "sew like the wind."

That's also still the Revenge, in fact the very spot where Lucius was about to get his finger cut off in "The Art of F**kery". But what intent Ed has with this confrontation with Frenchie, who seemingly looks like perhaps he wasn't even doing anything wrong, escapes the depth of my theoretical mind. What contributes even less to this is that Ed is smiling? Rather maniacal, might I add.

(WHAT. THE. FUCK. help me why is this happening. I LIKE AM SO ANGRY AND SO HAPPY AT THE SAME TIME THAT I CAN'T FIGURE ANYTHING OUT FROM THIS PICTURE. NOT EVEN WHAT STAGE OF GRIEF ED IS IN. HELP ME)

Edward — That chair looks like it's from Stede's room, from one of the desk-like tables in the corner next to his bed, and perhaps even the only chair which Ed kept in the room after his rather ill-tasted renovations. What's he doing there without his make-up on? Perhaps this is still during the early stages of new Blackbeard, and he's just in the transit period between washing and re-application.

BUT, if we look at the background, does that look like the Revenge? Not really... There is what seems like a fireplace or some sort of stone plate in the background, with a painting on it with a man on the left side of the composition, who seemingly looks to have lighter coloured hair. So what I may be thinking, is that Edward is visiting MARY ALLAMBY! The painting in the background may be the one from Stede and Mary's wedding, and Mary might have kept it as memorabilia in ode of her now good friend. (Stede is on the left in that painting). Plus, where else would Stede get his furniture and taste for his bedroom than his own former house, which Mary currently lives at?

Even though I think David Jenkins said that Mary wouldn't be present in the season, do I believe him? No. I think I have the right for me to be delusional without external interference at this point.

(Please let me be right please let me be right I NEED A MARY / ED INTERACTION AT SOME POINT TO HEAL MY HEART. I need Mary to realise that fucking Blackbeard is the Ed that Stede was talking about, I NEED ED TO THINK THAT STEDE DIED, FOR EVEN A MOMENT. I think my brain has stopped receiving oxygen.)

Send hopes and prayers

[gollancz]

Why I'm Not Allowed On Twitter Unsupervised Any More: A Photo Essay

Key Notes:

Since this was posted I discovered that the books had briefly been available in the UK under the name Peter Beagle rather than Peter S. Beagle in the mid-90s, which is why they didn't show up on the British Library search

The article by Tor.com @torbooks: Peter S. Beagle Has Finally Regained the Rights to His Body of Work

If you want our gorgeous limited edition, I believe there are still a handful left (except for the US and Canada, sorry lads), and you can get it here. I'm not kidding when I say I got a little teary-eyed when these showed up.

[Image Description: A tweet thread from the Gollancz twitter dated 20th July 2022, which goes as follows -

Tweet 1: You may have seen that we're printing a Brand New Edition of The Last Unicorn. We're very excited! I was asked to tweet about it. I wasn't asked to do it quite like this, but I also wasn't asked NOT to do it like this, and I have the twitter login so whose fault is that? (Thread emoji, and gif from the film Scream reading 'The Call is coming from inside the house!')

Tweet 2: Imagine, if you will, you are a small child in the UK during the late 80s/early 90s. You might look a bit like this, or you might have had parents who didn't choose suffering (ask my mum about The Saga of the Hat) (an image of a small girl approximately 3 years old wearing a blue dress and a big white hat)

Tweet 3: Imagine you have a cool older cousin, one who, as you get age, introduces you to fantasy films like Ladyhawk and The Princess Bride and has a post the whole family knows as 'the vampire and the naked lady'. She's extremely responsible for the way you turn out as an adult.

Tweet 4: One year, for your birthday, this cousin buys you a video. It's the first video that is yours, not to share. It has a bright yellow cover. The butterfly scares you. But you watch it on a loop. You don't realise how special it is, but it's a seed that burrows into your brain. (An image of a VHS of The Last Unicorn)

Tweet 5: A decade or so later, in your teens, you rediscover it. None of your friends have heard of it, despite also being fantasy-inclined. That's odd, you think. Is this an outlandishly weird title? Then you get older and you realise: no, it isn't. (Principal Skinner meme reading 'Am I out of touch? No, it's the people who don't know about The Last Unicorn who are wrong')

Tweet 6: Time and tech march on, you get a DVD of the film. You realise it's got Christopher Lee in it! And Angela Lansbury! Your mum tries to get you to listen to songs by America other than the soundtrack, but the only one that really sticks is the other one they did about a horse. (Gif of Walter White from Breaking Bad singing along to Horse With No Name)

Tweet 7: You realise that the film is based on a book. Like The Princess Bride, which you've also read (after spending longer than you're proud of trying to find an unabridged edition). 'Neat,' you think, 'I'll have to read that!'

Tweet 8: And then you can't find it. Because, as mentioned previously, you're in the UK. The Last Unicorn was published for the first time in 1968. But, if you look at the British Library's National Bibliography (super neat resource btw), that was, uh, about it. (screenshot of the search results from the National Bibliography showing four editions of The Last Unicorn by Peter S. Beagle, one from Gollancz in 2022, one from IDW in 2019, one from Tachyon Publications in 2018, and one from Bodley Head in 1968)

Tweet 9: The Tachyon edition is the unfinished first draft of the story. The IDW edition is a gorgeous graphic novel. But in terms of the novel? I don't know how many reprints it had (if anyone knows, I'd love to find out), but there's a good chance it went out of print in the 70s.

Tweet 10: The film, however, was released in 1982. Although it didn't make it to the UK until 1986. Conservative estimates could put that between 10 and 15 years since the book was last available in the UK. This gives you a generation in the UK who only know the story through the film! (A screenshot of the IMDB page showing the different release dates for The Last Unicorn around the world)

Tweet 11: The screenplay was written by Peter S. Beagle, and made by the legendary animation directors Arthur Rankin Jr. and Jules Bass. That's right, the guys behind Thundercats and 2 out of the 3 films based on The Hobbit and The Lord of the Rings.

Tweet 12: The Book has been in print in the USA (and possibly all of North America) constantly since its publication, so it seems baffling that people in the UK haven't heard of it. As the internet became more prominent, however, it became easier to just... import a copy of the book.

Tweet 13: But! This also isn't quite as simple as you think. You see, until last year the rights to The Last Unicorn were tied up in legal limbo. And the US edition of the book contained changes that Peter wasn't happy with. (Link to the Tor.com article about the rights)

Tweet 14: Back to you, the 80s/90s kid, who is now an adult, happy that unicorns are A Thing again and you're living your best life. You're very easy to buy presents for. Your partner despairs of unicorns. You get a job working in books about magic and space. (unicorn emoji and photograph of a collection of unicorn memorabilia, including three different versions of The Last Unicorn)

Tweet 15: You mention that one day you would like to publish The Last Unicorn. That if you did, you would like to do a really beautiful edition of it. And you would like it to be purple. Because since the film is what you know, you associate it with purple.

Tweet 16: And, after taking a very circuitous route, here we are! This is the original text, that was first published in 1968. Reading it after you have only seen the film is the strangest experience - like being introduced to a very dear friend that you have never met before.

Tweet 17: Peter's screenplay kept the voice of the story so well, you can hear the characters when you read the book. But now there's so much more depth, softness and warmth to it. The butterfly doesn't seem so scary any more. And, it's beautiful. And it's purple. (Image of a hardback edition of The Last Unicorn, with a black base, purple background, and a linocut image of the unicorn in her wood. On the black cover underneath is a foiled unicorn with the moon and butterfly, the page edges are sprayed purple, and the endpapers are black with silver butterflies)

Tweet 18: Anyway, I've taken you on a three day trip that could have been done in a single tweet, but that's what happens when you let me drive. This edition is the limited exclusive one only available through the Gollancz Emporium and you can preorder here: (link to Gollancz Emporium)

Tweet 19: But there is also a standard edition available through all booksellers! You'll be getting the author's preferred text, with an introduction from Patrick Rothfuss. There's also a brand new audiobook and it will be available in eBook for the first time ever.

Tweet 20: It's like going from famine to feast, and I wasn't able to talk about this for months so now I am able to talk about it, I'm going to make the social media team cry. UNICORNS. SPECIAL EDITION. PURPLE. The End.

Tweet 21: Additional behind the scenes bonus detail - I did take this cover to the art meaning while wearing a unicorn onesie.

Tweet 22: The comms team wrestling me away from the twitter account: (gif of Ross from Friends shouting 'Stop typing! Stop typing!')

End ID]

[supernaturallyliterate]

MY HOPES FOR VANCOUVER N3:

Note: these are like, Wildest Dreams, okay? I understand many of them may not happen but LETS GO BITCH

*kaylor content ahead*

- Missing light pink lover body suit. This was posted in the background of a post by the designer. In the Eras Tour Book, there’s also a Taylor holding a pink guitar that hides most of the outfit, but it looks suspiciously similar to the one from the designer’s post—pink and silver.

- ME! added to the set list. Possible Brennan Yurie guest appearance. The same drum line from TTPD and the original performance but in screaming color!

- New light pink The Man jacket. I’ve heard people guessing green for the arrival to The Emerald City, but I think it’s more likely to be light pink, silver, or light orange to match the first performance of ME! live. I’m going with light pink (it’s in the Eras Tour book)

- Green or pink Lover guitar. In the Eras Tour book, Taylor is holding the pink guitar. But there’s also a green guitar sitting with the blue and purple one that we’ve never seen before. I am torn because green is the new one and it’s the last chance to debut it, but also if she’s going for lesbian ME! colors, then pink would match the best. But also green would match Glinda and Elphaba colors and draw attention to Wicked & the Wizard of Oz parallels… ugh, decisions.

- Okay I’m looking at the Eras Tour Book again and the outfits are listed in a different order than the eras have been performed. So I’m guessing that the order of Eras for the last show will change: Lover, Red, folkmore, 1989, Fearless, TTPD, (possible evermore added back??), Reputation, Acoustic / Surprise Songs, Speak Now, and then Midnights.

- I am suspicious of the Mastermind set design that leaked having a purple Speak Now dress in it, but I think it would interrupt the flow of Midnights too much to be incorporated tonight.

- The missing pawn (in every Lover’s game) is in play tonight, and stops the check mate. This connects to the lyrics but also Karlie’s posts with a missing pawn. (What if Karlie appears on stage as the missing pawn lmao)

- I Bet You Think About ME red T-shirt. Because ME! Out now! And the masters heist, the failed coming out, etc.

- New Red guitar?? There’s 2 listed in the Eras Tour book, but I think she’s only been using one?? Idk, take a huge grain of salt with this one.

- purple folkmore dress. In the Eras Tour Book, she’s the one holding a guitar. (I’m paying attention to the Taylor’s holding guitars because the Fearless Taylor holding a guitar was the N1 and N2 dress)

- 1989 is hard. I originally thought that she would do green / yellow on N2 and green / green on N3, but she broke the pattern. Now I am questioning if she will wear either set at all, just to draw attention to the fact that she didn’t wear them. She could wear the lesbian flag with pink / orange. She could wear yellow / yellow for daylight and the yellow brick road. She could still wear green / green. I think gonna go with yellow / yellow* (detailed explanation at the end of post) because that’s the only place I can put yellow and I think she will wear all the colors of the rainbow tonight.

- New solid blue fearless dress. (In the Eras Tour Book)

- Who’s Afraid of Little Old Me TTPD Dress

- New all gold TTPD outfit. (This could also count as yellow??). This is Taylor the courageous lion, daylight, etc.

- Gold reputation bodysuit. (This could also count as yellow??). I’ve also seen theories from the LWYMMD MV that she could wear a silver reputation body suit, since she wears 3 snake rings—red, gold, and silver. Idk about this one.

- My heart says Sunrise Boulevard / lesbian flag surprise song dress. But based on the Eras Tour Book, I can’t draw my eyes away from the green surprise song dress. I think there may be a new green surprise song dress, and maybe that’s where the Emerald City will come into play.

- Pink speak now dress with the koi fish guitar.

- Long Live added back to the set list for the last night

- orange midnights dress. (It’s in the eras tour book)

- Cutouts Midnights bodysuit. For the gays.

- Multi-color or light pink Karma jacket. She’s worn the light pink Karma jacket 5 times, and wearing it tomorrow would make 6… 6 for TS6, reputation OR Karma the lost album

- Karlie Kloss in attendance. Parallels to August 2023, with Taylor looking at Karlie’s section in the audience all fucking night lmao

- Betty Speech: no mention of imaginary worlds or characters. COMMIT. This one is just a desperate hope.

- I’ll have to circle back to surprise songs after doing some more research. Right now, I’ve been thinking it would be SO CUTE to do Christmas Tree Farm and maybe announce the holiday album as a treat, but it feels like a big stretch. And it would take away from all of the other lesbian and queer flagging that I am predicting for tonight.

- I think what’s more likely is an announcement of another Eras Tour Concert Film that includes TTPD. Or maybe the Eras Tour Documentary. But I feel like this one may take longer to put together. These may also come at a later time, but again, WILDEST HOPES AND DREAMS.

*My reasoning for the yellow / yellow 1989 outfit. I 100% believe in the Yellow Brick Road / Wizard of Oz theories. Taylor is taking the YBR toward coming out. However, I think that the timeline is more stretched out than we originally thought. There are 14 books in the original story, with the Wizard of Oz and the journey to the emerald city being just the first one. Some amazing creators have dug into these books and I agree with them that getting to the emerald city is just one part of the journey. I think that’s why we haven’t gotten the green / yellow and green / green. Instead, we got yellow / orange. Not for Chiefs colors, though that could also be a nice distraction for the hetlors. It’s for the yellow brick road and the orange field of poppies. So Taylor has gone through the field of poppies and gotten to the yellow brick road, and she’s going to step off the yellow brick road and arrive at The Emerald City. There have already been theories about the green / green 1989 set and the Vancouver goodbye post being the post that aligns with the yellow brick road on Taylor’s instagram feed. This is a good theory. But I’m also suspicious of that green surprise song dress and suspect that could also be a good Emerald City post picture. I think her coming out journey will end on her birthday next year. 12/13/25.

Because she still has 2-3 re-records, with Debut, Reputation, and the holiday album. And I think Karma will come next year as well, if she’s following her pattern of 2 re-records and a new album.

[themultifandomgal]

From 2010- FOUR Hangout

Part 45

2014

“Hello everyone we’re One Direction and this is our first Google livestream” Niall starts after we have the thumbs up to say we are now live. I sit with my legs crossed between Louis and Liam

“We wanted to do a live stream so we could answer your questions about the new album. To help us with our questions we have very good friend of our, this is Ben everyone” I introduce our friend who is sat on a single comfy chair while me and the boys are sitting on a long red sofa

“We’ve got loads of questions from the fans and we only have half an hour so let’s just get into them. So it’s been four years now that you’ve been in the band which is why I’m guessing the albums called four right?”

“Yeah and it’s also our fourth album” I reply

“So you guys are actually on the XFactor tonight. Do you get nervous when you go back there because that’s where it all started”

“It’s very like, you feel nostalgic walkin round the halls and stuff. I think we all felt under so much pressure when we were there it’s now fun because we can enjoy the environment more” Harry explains

“Do you miss the simplicity of the old days YN. Is there anything you sort of miss?” Ben asks me. The boys all turn to face me as I think

“There’s definitely aspects that I miss, like being able to go to Waitrose with greasy hair and no makeup just to pick up some food, without having to worry about photos being posted or comments made. I think that’s been the hardest part for me, just being able to I guess live my life without any cares. Don’t get me wrong I am so grateful for all of this and I love meeting fans, and I know that without this opportunity I wouldn’t have met the people I have, but yeah I think that’s what I miss the most, just not worrying so much. I think it’s calmed down now though. Like where my dad lives no one really takes any notice of me when I go around the town”

“Yeah and at the beginning it was very hectic, but things have more structure now so it’s not as chaotic I don’t think” Louis continues

“Do you find though you’re able to enjoy it more now though?” Ben asks looking at Zayn

“Yeah definitely. We get time now to go and sight see which is nice”

“Do you ever watch clips of you back in the day and look at pictures and see the change? Niall?”

“Weirdly enough the other day I was watching our old video diaries and the stuff we did on the xtra factor and me and YN were texting each other talking about how young we were, we still are but especially her and Harry are the youngest, so looking back now it’s like woah we were babies”

“Some of the outfits I wore were hideous” I laugh thinking back to our days on the xfactor “so many clashed with my hair. Why did I think bright red hair was cute?”

“I know a lot of your fans miss it”

“I don’t. The amount of times when we were on tour and the bed sheets looked like a murder scene because he went to sleep with wet hair” Liam laughs along with me

“I ruined a lot of bed sheets, towels, anything white became pink. It was a disaster”

“I liked your red hair” Harry shrugs “made you look like Ariel”

“I think the problem was you never had time to go to the hairdresser so you dyed it yourself with a box colour” Zayn says looking at me

“Yeah that’s why I’ve gone back to brown because it’s just easier”

“So you won’t be dying it again any time soon?”

“Nope” I shake my head at that question

“Did people tell you at the time what to wear and what you had to do and say or were you in control of your own decisions?”

“A little bit. I know sometimes someone would show YN a dress or whatever and she’d be adamant that she wouldn’t wear it”

“Yeah it was a bit of both really” Louis continues on from what Liam was saying

“If you could meet yourself 4 years ago is there any advice you’d give to your younger self?” Ben asks “Louis?”

“Just have a second glance in the mirror and say are you sure you want to wear this?”

“Is that really what you’d say?”

“No ok that’s just me trying to crack a joke”

“Trying being the word”

“Oi” Louis nudges me on the knee with his hand

“I think on a serious note I would have said have fun and enjoy yourself” Zayn says I nod my head agreeing with him

“We have spoken in the past and there's a lot of it in the movie about how I guess for you there was an explosion on the internet really. it was a massive part of you career, but YN you had to deal with a lot of negativity. Is it better now and how do or did you deal with that?”

“It wasn't great obviously and I did struggle with it, but I went to therapy, still do, and I just don't check comments on social media. I just try to remember that the only reason people are saying things like that is because they have something to hide behind. They are bored. Our real fans are incredible though and most of the time if there's one negative comment there will be l0 positive”

“Is there ever a time where you it's gone to far?” Ben asks

“Definitely. Theres been comments telling YN to hurt herself or worse. I think some people forget that we are actual people and we all have feelings. We’re all so young and we can all be a little self conscious at lines so we just make sure we’re all ok and check in with each other” Liam tells Ben

“ Lets talk about the album. What were the songs that your most proud of? Zany let’s start with you, what is your favourite song on the album?”

“Erm I really like Where Do Broken Hearts Go” all of the boys seem to agree

“ I think Liams going to agree with me, but we fell in love with fire proof” Louis says

“YN?”

“ I love Fools Gold and Stockholm Syndrome. I'm actually so excited to sing them on tour”

“ Ok this is a recurring question. What is Stockholm syndrome about and what does it mean?”

“YN since it’s on of your favourites do you want to explain?” Louis looks at me with a smile

“Well erm ok it’s… harry you explain”

“It’s kinda along the lines of what Stockholm Syndrome is so”

“What is it?” Ben asks

“YN?” Harry looks at me but I shake my head “well it’s when you develop a relationship or feelings towards your kidnapper”

“And how much experience do you have with being kidnapped”

“Well I mean a couple times to be honest” harry jokes with a straight face which makes me laugh

“Is there any tracks from your other albums that you don’t like now?”

“I think there’s songs maybe we individually don’t resonate with anymore, or we don’t particularly like to sing anymore, but to say we dislike any of our songs would be a stretch. We all have our own tastes and styles ya know so a song I love one of these boys may not enjoy as much” I say looking at Ben “I think it’s important to be proud of all of the songs. I’ll always look back at the songs with fondness. Certain ones I can pin point locations and memories so yeah I don’t think I could dislike any of them”

We wrap up the interview having been talking for like 40 minutes about our music.