#i love love love love the violin so much it's so elegeant

[noxtivagus]

JUST WATCHED THE 6.3 TRAILER AGAIN W APOLLO HOLY FUCK 😭

[seokmatthewz]

aurora stages how does it feel to have the best atz stage fits

[writingforstraykids]

THIS CHAN?? I WENT FERAL???!????

anyways 🤭 imagine you taking chan and him forcing you to look into the mirror behind the bed as he absolutely destroys your sweet little cunt😼

Ohh believe me, that pic made my thoughts run wild already so thank you!! Your request hasn't left my mind all morning so yeah...this happened real quick😂🖤

Right here with you, always

Pairing: Chan x femReader

Word Count: 1915

Warnings/Tags: fluff, smut, p in v, unprotected sex

A/N: Hope you like it, love🖤

do not repost, translate, or plagiarize my works in any way here or on other platforms. ©writingforstraykids 2024-

male!version here

The cobblestone streets of Milan seemed to sparkle under the golden hues of the early evening sun as you and Chan made your way through the city. Milan was pulsing with life, its vibrant energy matching the excitement in your heart. Chan had invited you to join him on this glamorous outing, blending the worlds of high fashion and intimate togetherness.

You watched him from the corner of your eye, admiration blooming inside you. He was dressed in a blue shirt that highlighted the warmth of his eyes and complemented his dark hair. Chan suggested dinner at a small, elegant restaurant known for its secluded ambiance and exquisite Italian cuisine. Over plates of creamy risotto and perfectly aged wine, you shared stories and dreams, his laughter blending harmoniously with the soft notes of a violin playing somewhere in the background.

As the sky deepened into a velvety blue, Chan took your hand, leading you out into the enchanting night. Milan at night was a different kind of beautiful; the lights of the city reflected in the gentle ripple of the canals, the air filled with the subtle aroma of blooming jasmine. Walking through this cityscape with Chan, you felt as if you were part of a living canvas, every step painting a stroke of memories in your shared story.

Eventually, the night led you to his hotel, a place of refined elegance. Inside, the world quieted down to just the two of you. Chan guided you to the sofa in his suite, a soft, inviting piece that seemed to echo the plush luxury of your surroundings. As you settled into the comfort of the sofa, he pulled you gently into his lap, a smile playing on his lips.

“You look so beautiful tonight,” you whispered, your hands tracing the lines of his muscular arms, feeling the strength that lay beneath his soft shirt. “This blue shirt… it’s perfect on you. It makes your eyes look like chocolate; deep and endlessly sweet.”

At first, Chan blushed, a shy smile curving his lips as his gaze flickered away. It wasn't often that he heard such open adoration, even from you, his partner. Yet, the honesty in your voice and the warmth in your eyes encouraged him to accept your compliments. He wrapped his arms around you, pulling you closer, his own confidence growing with the realization of how much you needed him in this moment.

“I love seeing you like this,” he murmured, his voice a soft rumble against your ear. His hands were gentle but firm on your back, making every nerve in your body sing with a pleasant tension. The room around you seemed to fade, the sounds of Milan's nightlife a distant echo to the intimacy that unfolded between the two of you. “Love how pretty you look in that dress,” he told you, hands fondling up your thighs and below the skirt. “Love how your body always searches mine,” he confessed, biting back a soft groan as you pressed down against him.

His lips met yours in a fierce kiss, hand shooting up into your hair. You kissed back eagerly, grinding down against him with soft, needy sounds. Chan's grip on your hair tightens, his hips chasing yours with a low groan.

As the kiss deepened, your senses overwhelmed by the gentle yet insistent passion between you, the world outside seemed to vanish completely. Chan’s hands moved with a tenderness that contrasted and complemented the growing intensity of the moment. He was skilled, knowing exactly how to make you feel cherished and desired all at once.

Your panties met the floor as Chan lifted his hips, shuffling his pants down enough to free his aching dick. He made quick work of preparing you, stretching you out with his fingers and kissing down your neck hungrily. You sunk down on him soon, moaning out loudly as he stretched your fluttering walls just right.

Chan's hands found your hips, steadying you in his lap as he started thrusting into you. “Fuck,” he whispered needily. “You feel so good, baby girl,” he told you, setting a fast pace.

You matched his rhythm, your movements fueled by the shared desire that connected you. The heat of the moment intensified, your bodies moving in sync as you rode him, each thrust deepening the bond between you. Chan’s eyes were locked onto yours, the intensity in his gaze making you feel both powerful and utterly vulnerable at the same time.

“Chan, please,” you whispered, your voice breathy and filled with raw emotion. “Don’t stop.”

“I won’t,” he promised, his voice a mix of passion and reassurance. His grip on your hips tightened, his thrusts growing more urgent. “I’m right here with you, always, pretty girl.” You hid your face in his shoulder, embarrassed of the weak sounds he pulled from you with each thrust. Chan's hand sunk into your hair, pulling you back up. “I want you to look at yourself,” he said, nodding at the mirror wall right behind him. “Want you to see how pretty you are like this.”

“Channie,” you whined softly but did as he told you. “Fuck,” you whimpered as his pace fastened, making you bounce on him.

His grip on your hips was firm as he guided you up and down, his thrusts growing more insistent with each passing second. The sight of yourself in the mirror, bouncing on his lap, your dress hitched up around your waist, your face flushed with pleasure, was almost too much to bear. The raw intensity of the moment made you feel exposed yet profoundly connected to Chan.

"Do you see how beautiful you are?" he murmured, his voice a low, guttural whisper that sent shivers down your spine. "Do you see how perfect you are for me? Only for me?"

The combination of his words and the image in the mirror heightened your senses, your body responding to him with an urgency that bordered on desperation. Your hands clung to his shoulders, your nails digging into his skin as you rode him harder, the rhythm of your movements becoming frantic.

"Yes, Chan," you gasped, your voice catching in your throat. "I'm yours."

Chan's eyes never left your face, his gaze filled with a mix of adoration and raw desire. "Good girl," he praised, his hands guiding your movements with a steady, unrelenting pace. "I want you to feel everything, baby girl. I want you to feel how much I need you."

His words pushed you closer to the edge, your body trembling with the intensity of your impending climax. "Chan, I'm so close," you moaned, your head falling back as the pleasure built to a crescendo.

Chan growled softly, reaching down between your bodies and playing with your clit. The touch sent shivers up your spine, making you arch into him with a loud, whimpery moan. “Such a good girl,” he moaned, thrusting into you harshly, feeling his own climax creeping up on him.

“Please, Chan~,” you almost sobbed, a little overwhelmed by all the pleasure coursing through your body. “Need to - please.”

"Let go for me," he urged, his voice thick with emotion. "Let go, pretty girl. I've got you."

With a final, powerful thrust, you shattered, your release washing over you in waves of pure ecstasy. Your cries of pleasure filled the room, mingling with Chan's own groans as he followed you over the edge, his body tensing beneath you as he found his release.

You collapsed against him, both of you breathless and spent, your bodies trembling from the intensity of the experience. Chan's arms wrapped around you, holding you close as you both came down from the high.

"You did so well," he murmured, pressing soft kisses to your hair. "So beautiful, so perfect."

You snuggled closer to him, feeling a deep sense of contentment and love. "Thank you, Chan," you whispered, your voice filled with gratitude. "For everything."

He smiled, his eyes softening with affection. "Always, baby girl. Always."

The world outside the hotel room was a distant memory, the night in Milan a backdrop to the profound connection you shared with Chan. As you lay in his arms, the city lights twinkling outside the window, you knew that no matter where life took you, moments like these would always bring you back to each other.

-

Later, after you had both cleaned up and settled into the luxurious bed, the quiet intimacy continued to envelop you. Chan's gentle touches and soft murmurs of affection filled the space between you, making even the simplest moments feel special.

"Do you remember our first trip together?" Chan asked, his voice a soft rumble in the darkness.

You smiled, recalling the memory fondly. "Of course I do. How could I forget? It was magical."

"It was," he agreed, his fingers tracing lazy patterns on your arm. "But this... tonight... it's even better."

You turned to face him, your eyes meeting in the dim light. "Why do you say that?"

"Because we're here together," he replied simply, his voice filled with sincerity. "Because every moment with you is better than the last."

Your heart swelled with love for him, and you leaned in to kiss him softly. "I feel the same way," you whispered against his lips. "Every moment with you is a gift."

As you drifted off to sleep in his arms, you knew that no matter what challenges or adventures lay ahead, you and Chan would face them together, your love growing stronger with each passing day.

-

The next morning, the soft light of dawn filtered through the curtains, casting a gentle glow over the room. You woke up to the feeling of Chan’s fingers gently tracing patterns on your back, his touch a comforting presence.

“Good morning,” he murmured, his voice still husky with sleep.

“Good morning,” you replied, turning to face him. His eyes were warm and filled with love, and you couldn’t help but smile at the sight.

Chan leaned in, capturing your lips in a slow, tender kiss. “How did you sleep?” he asked when he pulled away.

“Perfectly,” you said, your heart swelling with happiness. “How about you?”

“Best sleep I’ve had in a long time,” he admitted, his smile widening. “Being with you always makes everything better.”

You snuggled closer to him, savoring the peaceful morning. “I feel the same way,” you confessed, feeling a deep sense of contentment.

As the morning progressed, you both took your time getting ready, enjoying the relaxed pace of the day. The streets of Milan called to you, promising new adventures and memories to be made. But no matter what the day held, you knew that the connection you shared with Chan would remain the most beautiful part of your journey together.

-

Walking through the bustling streets of Milan once more, hand in hand with Chan, you felt a profound sense of gratitude for the love and happiness you had found. The city seemed to sparkle with the promise of new experiences, each moment adding to the rich tapestry of your shared life.

Chan squeezed your hand gently, his eyes reflecting the same joy that filled your heart. “Ready for another day of adventures?” he asked, his voice filled with excitement.

“Absolutely,” you replied, smiling up at him. “As long as I’m with you, I’m ready for anything.”

And with that, you both stepped forward, ready to embrace whatever the day had in store, knowing that together, you could conquer the world.

MASTERLISTS | PROMPT LIST | GUIDELINES

Taglist (Please let me know if you want to be added to or removed from the taglist):

@atinyniki @galaxycatdrawz @silverstarburst @aaa-sia @lilmisssona @kthstrawberryshortcake @channieaddict @soullostinspaceandtime @rebecca-johnson-28 @lixie-phoria @kibs-and-bits @xxstrayland @ihrtlix @pheonixfire777 @mellhwang @palindrome969 @michelle4eve @harshaaaaa @rylea08 @heeyboooo @manuosorioh @gisaerlleri @andassortedkpop @lailac13 @bbokari711 @kazuuuaaa @rssamj @wolfyychan @stellasays45 @chrizzztopherbang @ionlyeverwantedtobeyourequal @silentreadersthings @myforevermelody143 @sapphirewaves @slutforchanlix

[thebadboyfanclub]

Together As One (Daemon x Reader)

So this is more a twisted love type of hype, I hope you guys like the way I portrayed this request cause I wanted to give it more of a dark edge since Daemon is definitely a gray character. Hope you enjoy!

Mothers love their children, everyone could agree upon the unconditional love mothers held for their kind with no doubt in their hearts, songs, poems, plays, and any type of art one can think of have attempted to portray such devotion. None, however, could predict that some mothers have a certain type of fear for their child, like some whisper in the back of their heads warning them about the little glimpse in their eyes that was not like the stars but more of a scorching fire threading to burn everything.

That was the exact feeling Rhaenys had for her beloved daughter, the twin sister of Laenor, it would often baffle her how her husband could not see what was clearly there, (y/n) was always in competition with everyone about everything, the finest clothes belonged to her, she had to ride a dragon first, learn Valyrian faster.

Whilst Rhaenys prayed for her daughter's thirst to settle, the others praised her for her bravery, her determination, and her intellect, something that made (y/n) yearn for more.

“I would like to raise a toast to my dear brother, a married man to our future queen, may your wedlock be blessed with numerous children and a road paved with nothing but joy and success, Prince Daemon, hopefully you are next”

(Y/n) stood with a smile of triumph dancing on her lips before she raised her cup to gently take a sip, as she sat down Daemon's eyes followed her, he was well aware of her game, though he seemed unfazed and almost amused by her comment the truth laid somewhere deeper than the surface, not a single soul in this room would have been able to guess that the delighted twin of now future king consort was playing a game of cat and mouse with none other than prince daemon behind closed doors.

(Y/n) had been relentless in her ways to seduce Daemon, sneaking out at all hours of the night, sending people after him so she could know his whereabouts just so she could magically appear, the combination of sweet wine and her alluring voice was enough for Daemon to stumble and fall right on top of her, taking her for a ride to the addictive roads of lust.

She was stunning, flawless, a true Targaryen that screamed opulence and elegance with a face sculpted by the gods, the common folk would gush over the “oceans Angel” a nickname given by the realm for her angelic features, how would they know how dark her mind could get in order to make everyone yield before her?

-

“Mother”

“Dearest, how are you on this fine morrow?”

“I am well, the little one finally decided to let me get some rest”

“When I was pregnant with you I remember thinking you would kick your way out of my belly, the Apple does not fall far from the tree”

(Y/n)s daughter, Leora, leaned as much as she could to kiss her mother's cheek before she sat down next to her to break her fast, queen Alicent had already taken her seat along with her daughter Heleana and (y/n)s other son Elion, Alicent and (y/n) enjoyed each others presence, a mutual bond based on respect had been build over the years that was sealed by marrying Leora with Aegon and Elion with Heleana.

“The maester said you should drink more orange juice, it will help with the fatigue”

“As well as eat more meat, pregnancy is no easy task, you must be as strong as ever”

Alicent chimed, the birth of her second grandchild was one of the most important events, Alicent adored her first grandchild, beautiful Hael, a strong boy who was just now starting to learn how to walk, still, he had everyone wrapped around his finger.

“I appreciate your concerns but I am fine, healthy as a horse”

“It wouldn’t hurt, let us not risk it dearest”

“I thought once I get older I wouldn’t have to listen to my mother”

“Well I am sorry but that will never happen, drink”

(Y/n) had stepped up and appeared as the perfect mother, loving, kind, and caring, she did love her children, however, what she loved most was the things they could do for her, her firstborn daughter was now the wife of the king first born son, and her son was a strong, skill full knight that served the realm and came back in triumph, how could she not adore her perfect creations?

“How is the king?”

“I am afraid his health is decreasing, the maesters advise him to remain abed for the day”

“Rhaenyra will be questioned, he won’t sit this one out I am afraid”

“Ugh the precious Rhaenyra, I wish I could stay in my chambers until those god-forsaken days pass”

(Y/n)s smile was wiped from her face and in an instant it was replaced with an angry scowl, in a split second her hand had grasped her daughter, Leoras' eyes went wide with fear when they met the angry hues of her mothers.

“You mustn’t speak in such a way, I’ve taught you better”

Leora only nodded frantically, (y/n) had her own opinions over Rhaenyra, she however, knew better than to voice them, not even in such a secluded area of the palace, (y/n)s hold turned from forceful to a caress before she directed her eyes back to her friend and queen Alicent.

“Besides, the king will do as he wishes and if the gods bless him with the strength to stand he should be there, isn’t it right Alicent?”

“I couldn’t have phrased it better, my dear”

-

(Y/n) and Alicent were each other's shadows, one compelled the other and in the end one way or the other the result was one of their favor, (y/n) was disciplined and had mastered the act of a gracious and lovely princess, Alicent was strict and slipped under everyone’s nose as she cloaked herself with the act of a pious queen, the two of them had years up on the horse of being able to maneuver their way around the kingdom so the men would not suspect a damn thing.

Viserys had seemed to get worst which made him unable to attend even when Daemon and (y/n) went to his room to assist him, the king could not even sit up let alone walk, Daemon was disheartened, thankfully for him his dutiful and beautiful wife let him rest on her shoulder and like a soothing salve her encouraging words went over his wound of his beloved older brother nearing his end.

“My Love”

“(Y/n)? What- what has happened?”

“I apologize for waking you up my dear, it is your brother”

“Viserys? What about- no”

“My dear husband, you must be strong, I am so sorry”

(Y/n) grasped Daemon's hands tightly before she brought them up to her lips to kiss his knuckles, of course, she was one of the first to know, Alicent had rushed to her chamber and delivered the news herself, she had waited patiently as the king took his last breath, Alicent told no one, not even the maester, (y/n) had to know before anyone.

“Viserys”

Daemon had been taken over by his thoughts, they’ve always had their differences but at the end of the day, they shared the same mother and father, a bond that could never be broken, no matter how many times Daemon has run off he always ended up by Viserys side.

“My love, I understand that this is too much for you, however, we must prepare our daughter”

“What does Elora have to do with this?”

“She is to be queen, she needs her father”

“Queen? Have you gone mad?”

(Y/n) bit her bottom lip in combination with her head tilting to the side, as if nothing but a mere candle lit her face Daemon could still identify the features that he so adored but now he could not wrap his head around what was his wife suggesting.

“My lord husband, King Viserys has left us, it is only natural for his son to succeed him”

“It is expected for his firstborn, Rhaenyra, to do so, not Aegon”

“Where is the princess? But in a place where she could have visited if she wished, when has she even attempted to come and visit her beloved father who was in agony all these years? She only came when her privilege was at risk and then blamed Alicent who has served by the king's side for his illness”

“This is not a matter to discuss”

“But it is, the gods know I loved Viserys and he had been good to me, but let us not forget he killed his first wife in his desperate attempt for a male heir, he remarried and Alicent gave him an heir and a spare and still it was not good enough, he passed by you and his sons to bury his guilt by calling Rhaenyra the heir, it wasn’t because he trusted her or because he saw something in her, he passed the title on to her because he did not trust you and then because he wanted to wash the blood of queen Aemmas from his hands”

Silence fell upon them, (y/n) pulled away from her husband and headed towards the door, as his hand rested upon the handle she turned her head back to lord husband who was visibly shaken, (y/n) might appear disheartened but she could detect that her monologue had started to creep on to Daemons heart.

“I love you with all my heart, that is why I shall leave you to grieve, if you wish to run to her I will…. Understand, it is not like I ever doubted the unconditional love you have for the realm delight, now might be your chance to pursue it”

Her tone was drowning in sorrow leaving Daemon with an unwavering sense of guilt in a dark room as his wife had disappeared to place her hand over a war of fire and blood, (y/n) was correct, Daemon did love Rhaenyra, still, he did not place his flame for her over what he had built with his wife over the years.

(Y/n) walked away with a smile of triumph, she had done her part flawlessly and now she was certain that Daemon would be by her side before the crown was placed on Aegons head, however, she did not have time to waste, Alicent and (y/n) were the ones to wake the new king and queen, preparing them for what they had destined to be.

“You may enter”

“Prince Daemon is asking to see his daughter and wife, alone”

(Y/n) stopped brushing her daughter's head, carefully placing the golden brush down before she looked down at her daughter who nodded in approval.

“Let him in, do not allow anyone to disturb us”

“Right away”

The girl curtsied as quickly as possible before she disappeared only to be replaced by none other than Daemon. (Y/n) took a sharp inhale through her nose once he entered the room, preparing herself for a mental battle, surprisingly when her eyes scanned for his she was met with a certain lightness, an ease to him that caught her by a pleasant surprise.

Instinctively a small smile played on her lips, her Daemon was dressed in his black attire, leather suited him, and his hair was pulled away from his face the way she always told him to do it.

(Y/n) was not made of stone, she might play like she is though her heart skipped a beat every time she was near her lord husband, Daemon was one of the very few people that (y/n) would throw herself in the fire, even though their love felt like the flames licked her back, that sweet pain of admiration and devotion that the poets would sing and the common folk would go mad.

“My dearest loves”

Daemon declared, that their daughter rose from her chair and ran to her father, she was always the one known to succumb to emotions and this time (y/n) could not scold her over it, Leora was her father's daughter, (y/n) might not have spoken over the matter only to allow the young girl the solidarity of her feelings, inside Leora was always waiting for her father to walk through this door.

“You look beautiful, a perfect gown for the queen”

“Father I-“

“Before I handed you over to Aegon I made you a promise, do you remember it?”

“I will do anything to see you happy”

“I will put myself through war if you tell me that this is what you want, all you have to do is say it”

Daemon was no fool, he was certain that the second that crown graced his daughter's head a war would nip their heels, Rhaenyra would not go down without a fight and that meant that Daemon would have to face her in battle, a battle he was willing to put for his lovely Leora.

“I want to be queen, I want Aegon to be our king”

“Very well, I wish you a fruitful reign, may the Gods smile down upon you”

‘May the Gods have mercy on us’ he thought, with a smile he brushed away those dark thoughts only to place a kiss on his daughter's forehead, a small part of him screamed that this was the right thing, his brother never thought he was good enough, now his brother was on the ground and his daughter was crowned queen and would carry on the legacy of the Targaryen name.

“Go on now, I want to have a word with your mother”

“I will be waiting for you”

Leora informed them before she gave them the privacy Daemon desired. (Y/n) stood as still as a statue, her heart pounding on her chest as her throat grew dry and scratchy, she was the master of composure up until now, faced with the only person who could make her waver.

“My beautiful, sweet lady wife, you spoke harshly last night”

“I spoke nothing but the truth”

She threw back in a cold tone. Daemon only smirked as he started to approach her, she did not dare to move, (y/n) was comforted by his light-hearted manner though there was an underlying mischief, Daemon was playing something, and (y/n) was left trying to catch up before it is too late.

Daemon stood before her, his arm finding her forearms and giving them a gentle squeeze, his eyes gazing back at hers with a glimmer that (y/n) had grown to yearn for, she despised the fact that she had to manipulate him like this, she was left with no other choice but to do this, a side of hers cursed the day Rhaenyras and Daemons fates met, this would have been so much easier had (y/n) been the only women Daemon loved.

“You are so bright, I am almost disappointed that you didn’t foresee this”

“The war?”

“No, me, you think I have not caught wind of all the scheming against Rhaenyra? The upbringing of my daughter to become the wife of my brother's firstborn son, putting our son on the sea the minute he was born to have better knowledge of anything driftmark related to gain the favor of your father, every step you so amazingly calculated with Alicent so you can get our family here”

“You have gone mad”

“I saw behind the facade and that makes you nervous, I was there with you every step of the way you mustn’t be frightened, I let you do all this for only one reason”

“Alright, let us entertain this absurd claim of yours, what is the reason?”

“Because I love you”

(Y/n) mouth slightly parted in shock, Daemon had professed his love for her on multiple occasions but the weight on this one was different, he had pulled what she thought was the perfect cover, leaving her bare in front of him, uncovering her thirst that she had kept away from everyone.

“I love you so much that I will let my daughter become the target on Rhaenyras mind, I will go against the woman that you think threatens your position in my heart, I will put myself in the sword before I let her even get one strand of your hair because you and our daughter want this”

“And you don’t? You always held a grudge over the fact that Viserys never declared you as his heir”

“My brother is dead now and because of you our child wishes to be a queen, I picked you as my second wife because I saw your strength, your determination, you need to come on top, that is the Targaryen fire through and through”

“You truly mean all this?”

“You are my lady wife, you gave me a home, now it is time to show the realm that we are the rightful heirs of the throne, together as one”

(Y/n) reached daemons lips for a passionate kiss, his hands slid down to her waist and pulled her as close as humanly possible, sharing this moment meant everything to (y/n), she had him devotedly by her side, he saw her true nature and walked straight into her fire, surrendering in her and even shielding her and her family.

“Let us find out daughter, I want us to be the ones to place the crown on her head”

“I wouldn’t dare let anyone else have that honor”

Requests are open!

[honey-milk-depresso]

Request HC for Dorm Leaders at Karaoke. Would they sing, what would they sing, how good are they at singing? Thank you~

I’ll be doing requests for a while, head on to my pin post to see!

TWST Dorm Leaders in a Karaoke

Riddle Rosehearts

I feel that he has a soft, angelic voice but would be shy to sing in front of everyone, probably passing the mic to all his other dorm mates.

He’s more piano-equip than singing-equip, so singing techniques might be a bit amateurish. I don’t think he’ll try to sing classical opera songs though, more of like soft pop songs that he can sing to and don’t embarrass himself in front of everyone.

Leona Kingscholar

Living Aggrestuko

Sleeping in the day, but at night when the beast is awoken for karaoke night (I’m sure Savanaclaw does often-)…

Yeah- beside him is Ruggie-

Azul Ashengrotto

He might be the best singer out there, I mean he used to run a band before as lead singer so-

He’s got a smooth, elegant singing voice that can sometimes go sultry if he sings a love song but he’s not gonna do that in front of people-

Azul has some flair to his singing, swaying his hips slightly but honestly it’s pretty subtle. You gotta show that ✨pizass✨, but not too much you know?

He’s NOT gonna stay in the karaoke room for too long though, otherwise he’s gonna suffer through Floyd’s weird ass playlist he’ll sing or worse, Heavy Metal Rock-

Kalim Al Asim

Great karaoke singer!

He’ll mostly sing pop songs but one thing about this boy-

He

d a n c e s-

He might pull up a Just Dance session and sing along (and that’s hard to do ngl-) since Just Dance lets you sing along too while you’re at it and he might as well do a whole ass concert in front of the Scarabia Dorm

Also pulls Jamil in to do a duet with him-

Vil Schoenheit

Another good singer, and this time he’s the most normal one like Riddle.

He has a delicate yet pretty deep voice he can go down to, but it’s usually light and pretty, perfect for singing slow songs and all.

It’s just that he might go first to excuse himself to leave later because he is NOT gonna sit through to listen Rook going crazy af over the love song playlists-

Idia Shroud

Mostly anime songs. He’s singing voice is actually not bad, it’s just that he’d rather not, and maybe he’ll only have a karaoke session with his brother Ortho.

Family Bonding Time 👍

Idia can sing all kinds of anime songs, and I mean ALL KINDS-

It can go from sad ones too downright fast and upbeat and Ortho would be having light sticks raised for his brother and cheering him on.

If he’s particularly grumpy for the day it’ll just become:

Malleus Draconia

I’m sorry, when I imagined him at a karaoke session I saw him bringing a violin and scoresheets and lyric sheets💀-

Because all Lilia told him was “it’s a singing fest”.

Anyways, he might be rather stiff in holding the mic, but his voice is deep and soothing so yeah.

Lilia might tease him a little to sing pop songs for fun and oh my god it’s hilarious-

He’s having a lot of fun though, maybe he can invite his favourite magicless student too to have fun~

Reblogs help! ^^

[lisbeth-kk]

Sherlock fandom.

A Love of Music

I have always enjoyed music and I wish I was good at playing an instrument. To sit down at the piano and effortlessly play one of my favourite songs for example. It always blew my mind when I saw people do just that in public spots. 

A few days before I enlisted, I was picking up my current girlfriend at St Pancras. She’d been at her parents in Kent over Christmas. We’d arranged to meet by the large Christmas tree. There was a piano there too. Free to use for anyone who wanted to show off their skills or entertain the travellers.

A teenage girl took a seat and started to play Auld Lang Syne. It was beautiful and much to my chagrin, I had to wipe away a tear.

***

Classical music was a genre I had an ambivalent relationship with. I guess I found it too pompous in my youth, but as I got older, some pieces stuck with me, and I quite enjoyed The New Year Concert from Vienna. 

It varied which instrument I was fascinated by. The harp, with its grandeur and elegant form, had always intrigued me. I also enjoyed the oboe. The sound of it felt both soothing and melancholy. But in the end, it was the violin I loved the most. How a skilled violinist could coax out all kinds of sounds from the beautiful instrument never failed to stun me. 

***

And then I experienced that even talented violinists could play so terrible that it hurt the ears and caused shudders to ripple through the entire body.

Yes, I’m referring to my mad flatmate and boyfriend, Sherlock Holmes. When we first met, and he told me he played the violin, I thought he was an amateur. Imagine my surprise and awe when I realised that he was just as skilled as any violinist in a symphony orchestra. At least in my opinion.

“You’re biased, John,” Sherlock told me.

I guess I was, but he was bloody good, and I thoroughly enjoyed it when he played for me. Therefore, I was totally unprepared for the change in tone when Mycroft visited. I had had my encounter with the pompous arse in a parking cellar somewhere months prior, but this was the first time I witnessed a meeting between the brothers.

A screeching sound from Sherlock’s violin made me cover my ears and yell from the kitchen: “what the hell, Sherlock!”

He stopped for a brief second to tell me his brother was tormenting him. Then he started molesting his instrument again. It was unbearable. I think my ears would’ve started to bleed if I hadn’t been able to pry the bow out of his hand. He plucked the strings for a while, before he sprawled on the sofa, clutching the violin to his chest.

***

The tone and the pieces he played when I had nightmares, were soft and gentle, luring me back to the flat and out of the desert. My heart swelled with love for him in those moments. Sometimes I stood from the bed and went to thank him with an embrace or a kiss. Other times, I was too fatigued to do anything but just lay there and thank him in my mind. The nightmares got less straining after I started sharing his bed, but he still played for me.

***

Sherlock’s own tone when Mrs. Hudson asked him to play Christmas carols, was clipped and haughty, but when he started playing – well, it was magical. He transformed from that aloof man everybody thought to be a sociopath, and into a passionate musician. I could even discern a tiny curl of his lip, indicating a smile on those occasions. After all, he’d do anything for his beloved Hudders, however reluctant he seemed.

***

His sorrow filled the small church when he played at his father’s funeral. I had never seen a face so despairing. Tears trickled down his cheeks in a constant stream, but he never faltered. Not until he lowered his bow after he’d finished playing. I was by his side before he’s knees gave way, and he stayed close to me for the rest of the day.

***

After we moved to Sussex, Sherlock still practised and played the violin, but it took a bit more effort as the years passed. His fingers weren’t that flexible anymore, especially during winter. So, we changed our habits. Every so often we took the train up to London, or Mycroft provided a car, and we went to see the London Symphony Orchestra. If there was a serene violin solo, Sherlock tapped at my arm in step with the soloist. 

***

It wasn't our shared love of music that brought us together, but it was an important part of the foundation of our relationship. And when the crime solving and the hunt for suspects through London ended, the music became an even bigger part of our lives. The tones changed and differed, but our love remained solid and steadfast.

-------------------------------------------------------------

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[thelov3lybookworm]

I Am Forever Yours (part 1)

Day 1: Gentleman

Summary: Lucien is his gentlemanly self. Of course, not without being a rake.

•○●⛦●○•

Word Count: 1111 (lmao)

Warnings: none, just lucy being a delulu girlie 🤭

A/n: lol it wont be like my if i posted stuff that arent series for character weeks loll. happy @lucienweekofficial to all my fellow lucien simps, i love you all hehe.

(also i wouldnt say he is very gentlemanly in his thoughts, but we all know he wouldnt be 😏)

anyways, ENJOY🥹

°•°•°•○🌑○•°•°•°

Lucien stood by himself against the wall nearest to the refreshment tables, quietly humming along to the rising tunes of the violins from the opposite corner, eyeing the couples twirling around the dance floor. If he cared, he would have opened a dancing class just to teach the men how to dance. If he were the one dancing with them, he would be so embarrassed.

The women though. They were the embodiment of grace, elegance and poise, so beautiful and twirling like they were born to conquer dance floors.

Alas, Lucien could not do anything to bring them justice except for cursing their partners.

With that depressing thought, Lucien moved away to set his empty glass on the table when someone bumped into him, jerking him forward and making the glass shatter as it hit the floor. Lucien looked at the broken glass, then turned away to look at the perpetrator who led to its demise, and did a double take.

Wide, frantic eyes moved to meet his after surveying the crime scene of the murdered glass, and blinked at him when he did nothing, as if she had expected to be yelled at and he had surprised her.

Her cheeks shimmered lightly under the lights emanating from the numerous chandeliers hanging from the carved ceiling, her shoulders pushed back and enhancing the look of her collar bones. Just the sight of those made Lucien swallow hard.

Who is this goddess?

While Lucien had been busy ogling the lady who clearly hailed from a high family clearly given away by her dressing, an older lady sharing the same hair and eyes appeared, glaring. "Y/n Jade, I cannot believe you would be so clumsy. Do you need to go back to school?"

Y/n?

Definitely moanable-

Fuck.

Pretty, Lucein told himself he meant to say pretty. Pretty name for a pretty lady.

The older lady turned to give Lucien an apologetic glance. "Forgive me, sir, for my daughter has begun to lose her mind." With a scathing glance at Y/n, she continued. "How are you enjoying the party? I haven’t seen you around much. Are you from this city?"

Lucien offered her a polite tilt of his lips. "Yes, though I prefer to travel. I work under my father as his emissary."

Lucien figured this lady did not know of his parentage, and he would love for it to remain that way.

"Oh, that’s wonderful."

Lucien could see the gears turning in the woman’s head, and he wished he had a glass of drink in his hands so he could hide his smirk behind the rim. Even not knowing that he was the youngest prince, everyone wanted their daughters to marry this fine specimen of a gentleman.

And why would they not, Lucien wondered. He was everything anyone could wish for, if just slightly cocky.

Not cocky. Just the slightest bit self assured.

"Well, I fear I must go hunt for my husband to make sure he isn’t making a fool out of himself. Y/n, why don’t you give your new friend some company while I search for your father?"

The lady, who by now was clear was Y/n’s mother, turned away and strode off, leaving Lucien to look at Y/n, who rolled her eyes. It amused Lucien to no end.

This was new.

"So… how old are you?" Lucien mumbled, trying to get rid of the stagnant silence between the two when it became clear that Y/n found the numerous chandeliers and the arguably bad dancers more intriguing than Lucien.

She only spared him a glance before turning her gaze towards the orchestra. "Twenty two."

"I’m twenty five."

She hummed in response.

"Your name is Y/n?"

Finally, she heaved an exasperated sigh and shot him an unamused look. "Yes, I would have assumed that was clear by now."

Lucien blinked. No one talked to him like that, even when he acted like he was one of the lowly townsfolk when he travelled to avoid attention.

"I- I’m Lucien."

"Did I ask?"

He stared at her a moment, eyes widening before dipping his head, fumbling for the first time in his life when talking to a lady. "I… I just thought-"

She snorted. "Stop thinking then."

He nodded dumbly, trying to focus on the strings of the instrument that was leading the song currently playing, the shine of his boot, the crunching glass under his toes, anything to stop himself from focusing on this lady who was thoroughly uninterested in him.

It made him want to interest her even more.

"You’re from which family?"

"Oak."

The favoured advisor of the king would be her father then.

"Y/n Jade Oak? That’s a pretty name."

"I know."

Lucien inhaled, deciding that if he wanted to get a reaction out of this ethereal creature who seemed to not know how to give any reaction other than unbothered, he would have to tell her something she wouldn’t expect. "I’m from the Vanserra’s. The king’s youngest son."

And as Lucien watched her, his eyes unwavering in hopes of catching even the tiniest bit of reaction, he almost nearly cried in joy when he spied her lips twitching at the corners.

"Look, I can do nothing about that. I’m not the one you should be complaining to. Maybe try your mother?"

It took Lucien a moment to comprehend those words, for he was too busy staring at her lips that still retained that slight tilt. And when he did, an unexpected laugh burst out of him. Once he finally got himself under control, he met her surprised eyes, and she blinked at him, as if him laughing was something that had not even crossed her mind.

"My, you’re funny." He grinned, shaking his head. "Are you by any chance engaged?"

She still watched him as she shook her head. "No. They usually decide they’re way too good for an uncultured lady like myself."

He raised a brow. "Well, as much as I want to give my condolences, I simply cannot say I’m sad for you, considering they have just made me courting you easier."

For the first time, Y/n’s composure faltered. "What?"

He offered her a lazy grin as he extended his hand to her, and after a moment of consideration, she placed hers in it. "I would like to court you. If that’s okay with you, I will like to talk to your father right away."

She searched his eyes, then dipped her head in the barest of nods. Lucien smiled, brushing his lips against her knuckles before he straightened.

"Then let’s go find your father, my lady."

°•°•°•○🌑○•°•°•°

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[coloursflyaway]

So uh, in the wake of the cancellation news I’ve been re reading your dbda fanfics.

Not sure if you’re planning on writing more but if you are, have you considered something where Charles meets Desire of the Endless? It’s something a lot of people have talked about for S2 and since we might not actually get to see it on screen, I’d love to see your interpretation of it. Anyway, even though the cancellation news makes me really sad I have so much love to you and all the creators in this little community 💗

Hi anon ♥♥

I know, I was so sad about the news of the show being cancelled 😭 they absolutely would have deserved to get at least one more season!!

And here you go, I had a lot of fun with this!

---

The world falls away, turns red and plastic and velvet, and where Edwin had been, looking through a spellbook they had recently acquired, a person sits that Charles has never seen before. They are tall, slender, graceful, their platinum blonde hair coiffed so perfectly that Charles can’t help but wonder how it would feel to push his hands through it.

“Well, well, well”, blood-red lips drawl, one corner rising. “You have left me waiting for far too long, so I thought I would make time for a formal introduction.”

The person rises, alluring and cat-like in their elegance, and Charles has to suppress a shudder; part of him wants to run away, part of him wants to get closer. There is something woven into every motion of their body, a siren song, and Charles feels himself grow weaker to it with every second he spends in their presence.

“Who are you?”, he grits out, thinks of Edwin and how confused he must be, thinks of Crystal and Niko and Jenny, thinks of everything but this. “What do you want from me?”

The figure laughs softly, musically, and takes another step towards him, so that Charles can make out the gold of their eyes, framed by heavy lashes and kohl.

“They call me Desire”, they answer, like they are indulging a child, then hold out their hand, like they expect Charles to kiss it. “And I know just who you are, Charles Rowland. You and your little friend, the one who looks at you when he thinks you don’t notice. It would be quite adorable, had I not been watching it for the past few decades.”

“What do you want with Edwin? You don’t touch him, I swear, or I’ll-”, Charles starts, a fire burning in his chest that he only knows from situations like this, when someone, or something, is threatening the best friend he has ever had.

And yet, his body moves by itself, hand coming up to grasp Desire’s in his, spine bending, lips pressing a feather-light kiss to the back of it; the touch is brief and yet it makes his skin tingle, pleasure sparking in his palms, his lips, his fingernails.

“Absolutely nothing”, Desire tells him, pulling back a hand Charles didn’t realise he was still holding; his skin misses the touch immediately, even if Charles hates the thought of it. “It’s my dear sister who has taken an interest in him. I would never interfere in her affairs like this.”

They cock their head, and their gaze is so heavy it feels like a physical touch, half a caress, half fingernails dragging down Charles’ skin, both leaving a mark on what feels like his very soul.

“And me?”, he asks, even though he knows he doesn’t want to hear the answer.

Desire smiles, fingertips and claws trailing down Charles’ spine, and leans in until Charles is enveloped by their aura, their intensity, which all but feels like a scalding bath, almost smells like cedarwood and smoke and honey, sounds close to violins and gravel and the song of planets circling the sun.

“Oh, you”, they breathe out, and Charles cannot suppress the shudder, doesn’t know if he wants to anymore. “You already belong to me.”

[yan-lorkai]

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ Day nineteen: Dancing with Sebek

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ A/n: I just realized that i don't write enough for sebek, despite liking him very much. He, as Cater, is a multifaceted character and one of my favorite so this is mainly fluff bcs he deserves ♡♡♡

The grand ballroom was alive with flickering candlelight, casting soft shadows across the polished floor while the sound of violins and piano echoed all around. The Halloween masquerade buzzed with laughter and music, the air filled with the sweet scent of autumn spices.

The moment his emerald eyes met yours, you felt a flutter in your chest. He was simply handsome.

You stood to the side, a bit overwhelmed by the spectacle around you, your cloak swirling gently as you shifted the weight from one let to the other. As you gazed at the couples twirling in elegant dances, you felt a familiar presence beside you.

“There you are, my love,” Sebek said softly, his voice warm and inviting. He looked dashing in his tailored suit, deep green fabric adorned with intricate silver accents.

"I guess, I got too lost inside my head,” you replied, managing a shy smile. “I was just admiring everything. The ballroom, the dance and the song is so good too.”

Sebek reached out, his hand enveloping yours with a comforting grip. “May I have this dance?”

You nodded, feeling a rush of warmth as he gently pulled you into his embrace. He guided you toward the dance floor, his touch careful yet confident. As the music played, he began to lead you in a slow waltz, the rhythm flowing like a gentle tide.

His arms were strong from the years he spent training under Lilia, and as they circled around you, his hand intertwining with your, you instantly felt safe and warm.

“Isn’t it beautiful?” you asked, glancing around at the decorations and the other couples. Everyone had a different costume; you spotted at least three vampires, a few mummies, werewolves and some famous characters from random movies.

Every little detail created a magical atmosphere, and you felt a sense of wonder at being part of it all. Of having something familiar here in Briar Valley. You were the one to explain human customs for Malleus, you dear friend, and he organized such event in your honor.

So much had happened in the blink of your eyes; years were spent. You finished your education in this world and found love, settled somewhere nice. Yet never found your way back home. A part of you still wanted to go and at the same time, you didn't. You had so many ties in this world now. And so much time had already passed in the world.

“It is,” Sebek agreed, his gaze focused entirely on you, bringing your attention back to the present moment. “But it pales in comparison to you.” He spun you gently, and you couldn’t help but laugh, the sound brightening the space between you.

His laughter joined yours, a warm sound that made your heart swell. A sound that was almost entirely for you. “You always know how to make me smile,” He said, pulling you back into his arms. The world around you faded, leaving just the two of you moving together in perfect harmony.

“I always look forward to moments like this with you,” He said, his tone softening and his sincerity wrapped around you like a warm blanket, making you feel cherished and safe.

Sebek always made you feel safe. Even when you two were just students bickering and arguing about stupid things, or, when your classmates picked in you because you were magickess.

Not that you ever needed magic to kick someone ass. Your first date happened right after a fight you had, Sebek took care of your wounds and screaming, he asked you out.

“I love spending time with you,” you replied, leaning your head against his shoulder as you swayed together. “You always make everything feel special.”

“I want you to feel that way always,” Sebek said, his voice barely above a whisper. “You deserve to be treated like the treasure you are. For me, you were and is special!”

He brushed a loose strand of hair behind your ear, his touch gentle, sending a delightful shiver down your spine.

As the music flowed on, you couldn’t help but admire the way he moved with such grace. His eyes, intense yet tender, held a depth that made your heart race. “You’re always so protective of me,” you said, a hint of curiosity in your tone. “Do you really think there’s that much to worry about?”

His expression shifted slightly, a seriousness crossing his features. “You’re far too precious to me to take any risks,” he replied, his grip on your waist tightening just enough to assure you of his unwavering support. “I want to be there for you, always. Even more now that things are changing and Waka-sama is showing his open support to humanity.”

You felt a warmth bloom in your chest at his words. “I know I can always count on you,” you assured him. “That means more to me than you know.”

A soft smile spread across his lips, and he leaned closer, resting his forehead against yours. “I’ll protect you from anything that tries to threaten your happiness, my love. I promise.”

The song began to draw to a close, but neither of you moved to break the spell that had settled between you. Instead, you savored the moment, wrapped in each other’s presence. Sebek’s gaze held you captive, a mix of admiration and devotion shining brightly in his eyes.

“I love you,” he murmured, his voice steady and sincere. “More than I can express.”

“I love you too,” you replied, your heart swelling with affection as you searched his gaze. “I feel so lucky to be with you.”

As the music faded into silence, Sebek tightened his embrace, his smile warm and content. Together, you stood in a sanctuary of your own, two souls entwined, unbreakable.

[icycoldninja]

hihi!! may i pretty please request some sparda boys + v x musician reader, preferably a pianist or vocalist? would greatly appreciate it i love love love your hcs so much

Yup yup, here you go!

Sparda boys + V x Musician!Reader headcannons

¤ Dante ¤

Oh, you've hit the jackpot. Dante loves listening to and playing music; the fact that you're a musician makes it all better.

-Hopefully you play the drums, bass guitar, keyboard, or something like that because Dante rocks the electric guitar.

-If you're a singer, great, Dante will try to start up a 2-person band.

-It probably won't work, but he doesn't care, he just wants an excuse to hang out with his favorite person.

-You and Dante will have a blast jamming together in the lobby of Devil May Cry, pissing off all your neighbors, upsetting Vergil, and scaring off any potential clients.

-You two are an incredibly loud and badass duo, whose music career will probably never take off, but whatever, you only make music because it's fun.

■ Vergil ■

-Vergil is a sophisticated man who appreciates the finer things in life, like classical music.

-He plays the violin himself, so if you play something equally elegant such as the piano, flute, cello, or something like that, he would love it.

-You two could also have jam sessions, except more refined and delicate.

-If you're a good singer, that would be so cool because then Vergil could hav someone sing lyrics while he plays the violin. Of course, he'll have to write the lyrics, (poetry skills finally paying off) but that's just more fun.

-If you happen to play the flute or trumpet very well, you can scare the crap out of Dante by playing mystical music in the middle of the night, making him wonder if Devil May Cry is haunted.

-Or you could serenade Vergil with magical fairytale music and possibly lull him to sleep in the process--whatever works for you.

□ Nero □

-Nero likes heavy metal music with lots of drums, so if you know how to play those, great for you.

-He actually knows a little bit about operating a synthesizer, but nothing more. If you could teach him, that'd be nice.

-He'd love to pick up guitar, but he's way too rough with it and his fingers aren't delicate enough for picking. He actually snapped a couple of strings the first time he tried.

-Nero is also a pretty decent singer. He doesn't have the vocal chords of Freddy Mercury, but he can at least hit high notes pretty well.

-If you are also blessed with awesome singing skills, expect regular karoeke dates, where you and Nero rock out to metal songs, rock songs, and occasionally love ballads.

-Honestly, you two have a better chance at succeeding in the music industry than anyone else mentioned on this list. You two just need a guitarist, maybe a bassist, and you're set.

● V ●

-V, being part of Vergil, enjoys classical music more than anything else--but that doesn't mean he dislikes other types of music.

-V has a secret fascination with pop songs that he just can't understand. Perhaps it's because he's never heard such music before, maybe it's because he just likes the bouncy beats, or maybe it's because he's just a dork.

-Since he is a competent poet, he can easily write lyrics for you, should you happen to be a singer.

-He would love to learn the piano, so if you are able to play, please teach him.

-If you play a string instrument like a violin, guitar, or something like that, V would love to just sit and watch you practice. It's oddly calming.

-If you can play the flute, tuba, or some other similar instrument, he will enjoy observing you play.

[mahiiimahiiii]

the less i know the better

Cw/: hurt & comfort, sloppy “I’m sorry for being rude” sex, service top gale, body image issues, shapeshifters and enchanters have some things to discuss, multiple orgasms, some crying, taking care of each other, piv, durges previous encounters, mentions of durges necrophilia, gortash ruins relationships like no one’s business, mentions of squirting and intense orgasms, durge is in they feels.

a/n: i would like to have a big bath, like swimming pool sized. we didn't get a beach or bathhouse episode so i took it upon myself.

what do we want??? Service top gale!!! When do we want it?? At a decent time!!!! I’m pretty sure I pinched my shoulder at the gym and it stingssss. Please play the world’s tiniest violin in my honor. I love bathhouse scenes, so I hope y’all enjoy this one.

(durge is a wood elf storm sorcerer, once again they are brown with loose curls at chin length hair)

(read on a03 or below the cut!)

(if you like what i write- please consider donating to my ko-fi!)

“You could’ve told me that one of your alias’s was lady gortash sooner.” Gale’s voice soured slightly, as you shuffled back into the tiled specialty changing room. You dispelled a few things, taking a few shuddering breaths.

“How was I supposed to know.” Your steps are a bit shorter as you step out of your boots. Hair once silver returning to a charcoal black. The crimson left its stain on your eyes, its color pulsing with every anxious heartbeat.

“You didn’t know what? You’d think something as important as being spoken for would be remembered.” His back turned to you as he worked on un-buttoning his robe, the stiff white collar of his shirt slowly revealed.

you held your head in your hands, rubbing the khol around your eyes. Your previously too perfect features dissipating, revealing the molted and decaying flesh underneath. As you stared at your own face in the mirror, tears pricked at the corners of your eyes, you blinked them back. “It’s not…it never was like that.” Your voice warbled more than you thought it would. The reflection that stared back at you in the large vanity mirror looked pitiful.

“Oh.” His tone softened, “Avi…I didn’t mean to push.” He turned around, hesitant to approach. His eyes were round pools of emotion. Your ears twitch at the sound of your own chosen name, one gale insisted you find- he qualified his nagging on saying ‘the dark urge isn’t a great name for such a gorgeous person.’  

“I didn’t know it would hurt this much, I felt… a stinging loss when I saw him. It got worse, when I got called that. Urgh- I don’t like this very much. Feeling like this. Unhappy.” Tears began to roll down your cheeks staining your skin with dark burgundy and black smears. You wiped them on your robe’s sleeves, setting your head in your hands again.

He placed a warm hand on your back, rubbing small circles.

“It’s ok to cry, I do it a lot.” He chuckled softly, kissing the crown of your head. He inhaled your hair’s scent, draping himself over you. A few tears trailed down your cheeks, you buried your head into your arms.

“You must think me weak.” The steaks of enchanted silver that danced in your hair faded into deep brown. Your ears shortened their length not as elegant, bones popped and reshaped, freckles and moles began to fade onto your skin. Scars, and marks and all. Your hair returned, short curly and shaggy, you looked now like a typical wood elf. What you were bred to be. Unremarkable.

“Not at all really…” he curled a strand of hair behind your twitching ear, the pads of his finger ghosting the fragile flesh. “Let me embrace you fully, it’s what you deserve.” His breath brushed against your ears; your skin itched under his touch. “It’s my apology.” His voice was light, “to show… my devotion to you.”

“You needn’t do any of that.” You chided, pushing in the chair, your robes hung off of you slightly. “I don’t wish to become another idolization, I’m but a mere mortal.”

“Nothing but mere, and anything but mortal.” He twirled a curl of yours, fingers braided in your hair. He cups your chin, tilting his head his pupils wide. His lips curled up into an easy smile. “You are mine, despite having… a rather unfortunate birth parent.” He giggled. He led you to the chair that draped his clothes, you curled up, embraced by his cloaks scent. He unlaced his sleeves, and the side of his shirt, finally tossing it at your head. You tucked it behind your head, watching his nimble hands remove his taught pants, the golden buttons glinting in the light. He stepped out of them, his calves flexing as he moved. It left him in his bloomers, which shimmered and crackled with weave. You had seen him in this state of undress multiple times before, every time it felt like the first, a breath of fresh air, an embrace, an urge much sweeter than the ones embedded in your flesh and crawled along your spine. He hummed, unlacing his underwear, again throwing them at your head. Should you be gross? You held it to your nose and inhaled, a rumble rising through your chest. a sound akin to a moan rose from gale’s throat. They smelt of sweat, ozone, and rosemary oil.

Of course, he applied rosemary oil to his crotch. He stretched, bending over as his bones stretched under his skin. “Come, sit up. Let me help you.” You followed his command, he worked diligently to unlace the corset that held your robes together. “I do rather like this look on you. Plum is such a becoming color.” His lips tickled your neck as he placed a knee fearfully close to your slowly heating core. “You look gorgeous, like this.” He kissed a mole on your cheek and another on your forehead; “much better than pretending to be something your not.” He removed the corset with ease,

his fingers hooking under your robe. He wiggled it over your head, a similar wrap shirt that he wore clad your shoulders. He sharply inhaled at the realization that that you didn’t wear your usual camisole underneath. Your breast peaks and nipples erect. “Oh, my love, what you do to me.” He kissed up your chin to the corner of your mouth, his hands slipping to the sides of your shirt to loosen the wrap.

You exhaled, leaning into his touch. Perhaps this was the one person able to make your urges feel at bay, to feel safe. A thought creeped into the back of your mushy skull, what if he wasn’t. The easy smile the lord held, his posture- warm and inviting. The sweetness he held in his eyes, how his hand caressed your shoulders, fell at your hips and drew you in. You could taste him, you could remember his scent, embedded in every primal part of your head. He smelt deeper than gale, whiskey and crude oil, musk and amber. Your skin itched to taste his sweat, and the coppery tang your tongue knew so well.  to trace the bites of the blade along his hips and stomach, the almond scented paint that clung to your hair. The clench of his thighs along your shoulders. You felt disgusting, fantasizing about another man’s touch in the presence of the one you loved.

“Gale- stop for a second.” You noted a flash of concern in his eye, he knelt back down again, tilting his head in a silent question. Tears budded again, as you held your head in your hands. “I am ashamed. I can’t… I’m terrified of my own thoughts. Flashes I see the lord, in the way I see you now. He will not leave, be gentler- and diligent” you paused trying to think how to phrase it. “To possibly… take my mind off things.”

He hummed in acknowledgement, “perhaps we should establish something, and you’re sweet for saying that. I’m glad you felt safe enough to tell me.” He sat back on his haunches. “Perhaps… the shower will help? Ill leave you to finish undressing if you feel uncomfortable.” He squeezed your shoulders, kissing your forehead. “I’ll depart for now then. Come join me when you feel ready.” His movements were fluid, hands drawing a sharp sigh from your lips. He left through the open doorway into the showers. His nails scratched against the doorway; your core ached immaculately. You finished off his work, the dark plum verses bright magenta robes draped against each other on the chair. You felt oddly exposed without your enchanted spells guarding you, waddling into the cedar and teakwood showers you felt more at peace. Gale was nowhere to be seen, but a satisfied groan emanated from the bright hallway ahead. You settled down on the stool testing the water on your hand before handling the wand. The water smooth and warm against your skin. The soaps and skin serums to remove dirt and dead skin smelt herbal. Tonics infused with healing potions, an intriguing way to go about things. You scrubbed your skin until it was red and raw, you felt clean but not clean enough. You sat in the steam of

the water for a moment, debating on continuing forward. You decided too, the warmth of the light and the pools beyond beckoning you forward.

The light was blinding once stepping out the hallway, plants and fauna lined the tiles surrounding the baths, a plush bed with towels and robes on top of it. a table next to it and a patterned robe with tassels. Candles, sherry and crystal goblets, candies and small sandwiches, a platter with fresh fruits and perfumes, and bottles that shone like gems. Gortash really pulled the full 9 yards. Towered over the bath, curiously was a statue of Mystra, her gaze focused on the bath itself, arms outstretched in a surrounding gesture, the sun perfectly framed around her head. It was almost reminiscent of a greenhouse. Gales head peaks between the waves of foam. He floated upwards, paddling to the side of the bath to grip the edge and prop his head in his arms.

“Feeling better?” he beamed, rose petals and violets clung to his hair, they floated on the surface of the foam. You walked towards the steps, dipping your toe in carefully. It was a wonderful temperature.

“a little.” You hum, lowering your weary limbs in the water. “it’s a little unnerving to have a statue of my partner’s ex staring at my naked form. I feel judged.”

“Often statues of Mystra are depicted with her eyes closed…” he swam closer to you, “I am... uncertain why this one is open, perhaps its just another god that looks similar.”

“Let us hope it’s just that.” You settled on a side edge seat, the sun a warm lazy glow on your skin, a warm and floral breeze churned the air. He almost seated himself in your lap, his head tucked into the alcove of your neck, his face a mottled pink from the hot water. His eyes laid shut; his breath warm against your chin. You leaned your head against the tile, allowing him the access to fully intwine with your limbs. You began to become drowsy, tapping his shoulder you escorted him to the bed, comfortably placed within a warm sunbeam.

You both curled up again like lizards on a hot rock. An overwhelming sense of contented sleepiness taking hold of you. Your dreams, or what you could call them flitted with the same images of the man, contented to a stretch within your core- they filled you with bliss. His voice moved against your senses like molasses, crashing wave after wave as his blunt nails dug into his skin. He smelt of crude oil again, wearing a black undershirt underneath his overalls that hung off the dips of his hips, the pale skin contrasted with dark moles on the edges of his thighs. His

nose was buried in your neck, one of his hands covering your mouth and nose the scent of gasoline making you lightheaded.

Keep quiet his voice hissed in your recesses, you bit down on his hand, drooling onto his fingers like a fool. Another snap of his hip’s heaven sent to your core.

He suggested a bath after making a mess of your temple attire, his warm hands scratched your scalp in the cool night of the moon.

His poor bhaalist, his assassin, right hand to the tyrant, his.

You slept on the cool bed curled up on his chest, nose crested his sternum listening to his sighs and mumbling as he slept.

But that was under the moon, you lived in the sun now,

You stretched your legs out a pinging pain setting off in your calf. he muttered, adjusting his body to snuggle closer. His legs intertwined with yours, a throbbing heat coming from his crotch, you could feel the weight on your thigh- a gentle twitch now ang again.

“Gale- “you whisper.

“Mmph.” Was his plain response, rolling over to face you, his eyes closed shut. He had a slow and easy smile on his lips. Rain began to patter on the big glass roof, the vibration of the droplets making small ripples and rivulets from the puddles that gathered. You traced the curve of his chest, your fingers knitted through the hair on his skin.

“Do you love me, gale.”

An eye snapped open. He began to laugh, loud and throaty his cheeks pink. “what a silly question!” His tone changed, one more serious and concerned. “Is something troubling you? A thought deeming you not worthy of my affections?” He raised his brow.

“More memories.” You rub your eyes, “the lord permeates most of them, I feel… disgusting to say the least.”

“it’s not your fault- “he rubs your shoulder, his fingers tracing the soft scars from your flaying. “You had no memory, and frankly that was previous- you don’t mind my discussion of Mystra, so I won’t mind your discussion of… gortash.” He pauses, chewing his inner cheek. “Tell me about him, little love.” You were the one to pause, closing your eyes, searching for the best recollection. “His skin was warm, for once. It made an aching difference in my heart. The only flesh I’ve touched was to consume, or in an act of kill. This was even not to say- that those I’ve killed were simply safe in death. I’ve rutted against and filled with- the same cooled flesh. Malleable,

stiff to the touch. Cold.” You shiver out of instinct. “He liked how I looked without the glamor; he said I was beautiful. He told me I was pretty.” A tear pricks at your eye, you warbled slightly continuing your thought. “no one has told me that before. A part of me felt- that glamor was the only way to command respect. Who would respect the most common creature? Not gifted with power and strength like Sarveok, or fantastic shape changing like Orin. A part of me thinks he’s lying, as is his nature. But Enver- Gortash, I know he was hurting too. It makes it worse, those shared moments we had.”

“You were gifted with plenty more than your family ever will have. Orin isn’t the least bit as beautiful, in my frank opinion. I never liked the silver hair on you, clashes too much with your eyes.” He cups your chin, his thumb stroking absently at the sides of his chin.

“Tell me how I look then, in this form.” You plead softly.

He sighs dreamily before beginning. “What I see is a witty and intelligent person. their skin dotted with freckles like the night sky. A mole on the most kissable spots on their face. Pretty and rosy cheeks, greater in hue than any in a garden. A voice like a ringing bell, or the clink of a crystal goblet filled with wine. Their skin as brown as a deep butterscotch, its taste smoother than any whiskey. Don’t get me started on your scent- “

You giggle, kissing his lips sweetly. “No- do, I’m enjoying it.”

He rolls his eyes playfully, “oh I will, but if you insist…” he kisses your nose, rolling you onto your back, your thighs seated on his low hips. He bent down adding kisses as emphasis with his words. “you’ve always smelt like the weave- fresh and bright like citrus fruits.”

“Must be the oranges I eat for breakfast.”

“Oh, hush you- “he kisses you, his hands wrapping into your long curly locks. His lips trail down your chin to your neck, he inhaled deeply. “One thing I do not like is your adult name you chose, with your 50 years of living and you chose ‘Avrice.’”

“It sounds nice- “you insisted. You were 50, which was around late 20’s early 30’s for a human.

“My sweetest love- do you know what ‘Avrice’ means.” He asked within your neck, to this you shrug. He snorts within your skin, placing small kisses on the alcove of your neck. “It means greed.”

“Explains a lot. I’m certainly greedy for your affections. I’m greedy to not be known as just-another-bhaalspawn. I am more than bountiful in company- I lust after all that life has to offer.”

he laughed again, his voice like the warm roar of the hearth, “indeed you are my love, indeed you are.”

“Can I try… something else, I’m in the mood, I think.” He hummed; his gaze soft.

“Really? I couldn’t tell.” You replied sarcastically, shifting your thigh up. The pressure earned a soft groan from him.

“You know how I don’t last as long as you? I have a small idea on that end. Perhaps I start you off sooner, if that makes sense.”

“I’d be up for it- as long as you are gentle.”

He hummed again, this time in acknowledgement. His movements were slow, deliberate. A quick cast of buzzing mage hand, which busied itself on uncorking a bottle of oil.  It scooped some of the liquid out spreading the lubricant out on its fingers. The oil smelt of jasmine and tropical flowers. He helped your legs into a bent position before seating himself on your waist, you felt one of the soft buzzing digits braces against your opening. Gale cupped your cheek bowing over for a kiss, his hands reminded you of the branches of a willow tree. His hips gently rocked against your torso, a slow and satisfied grunt drawing from his lips. He kissed you again, showing a devotion to the way your lips felt on his. Then you felt it, a soft buzz underneath a bulb of spongey tissue, the incorporeal hand must’ve entered quite easily into you for you not to notice. The thumb of the spell pressed against your clit, enveloping around it slightly. A warm heat spread steadily to your core, not enough to be considered stereotypically pleasurable, but quite lovely, nonetheless.

You wound an arm around him, your hand rooting itself in his curls as his thighs and calves spilt off your body onto the sheet below. He smiled between kisses, wanting your other arm around him. His beard scratched at your skin in a nice way. Your hands navigated to his hips, letting out a low gurgle when one of the fingers drew circles inside of you. He chuckles lightly as your hip bones tap his stomach. You felt it fleetingly, a little burst of flame that made your chest tighten. How quick was that? He could tell too, a peck to your nose before the intensity of the spell picked up, the thumb against your clit lightening up for a moment- before engulfing you again.

“That is one then, hm?” he smiled sweetly, combing a hand through your hair. “I shall make my way down- unless you have any objections.”

“No- “you murmur softly, scratching the back of the wizard’s scalp, a contented rumble emanated from his chest. with your legs lowered his sat back on your thighs He palmed your chest, the pads of his fingers grazing over your nipple. He gently pinched the flesh, hardening it between his fingers. The other neglected nipple went into his mouth,

his lips encompassed the flesh of your chest. he sighed, a happy one at that, his eyes squeezed shut in concentration.

The other hand not in use went to his groin, cupping and palming his balls quite gently. His hands traced the seam of his perinium, pressing up into the sensitive tissue just below the skin. His mouth and hand switched, leaving blooms of bruises and bites in his wake.

He began to mark the skin of the other breast, his tongue swirling around the pebbled nipple, eliciting a soft groan from you.  He began to kiss lower, his lips hovered over every freckle. Every mole was cataloged and memorized by his kiss, every scar traced and groped.

You admired the soft dip of his stomach, full of soup, he would always say. The warm curve of his hip, and the twitch of his ear. How his brow furrows, and the sunspots on his cheeks. The crinkle next to his eyes, and the smile lines and dimples on his cheeks. What a gorgeous man you’ve managed to acquire, you were more thankful every day.

He spread your legs like softened butter, kissing down your calves and thighs. He settled back onto his knees, his joints popping underneath the weight. The fingers curled inside of you, a stretch warming up your walls. He braced the sides of your legs, bowing his head to hover over cunt. He stretched his leg out, laying off his stomach, wrapping his arms around your waist. Your legs locked his head in place, spit dribbling off his tongue. The pressure lightened off your clit, the tip of his tongue tracing anxious circles. His lips covered the sensitive nerve, providing ample suction. The transparent fingers lovingly stroked your insides, cramping down on them ever so slightly. His lips were downy and soft, her eyes pools of deep dark brown. They gazed at you through long brown lashes, they fluttered every so often.

“You are a treat- “he was almost breathless, enraptured with your pleasure. His tongue was warm and thick against your folds. His kisses against your clit were sloppy and wonderful, drool and slips of tongue, his beard scratched your inner thighs deliciously.

You bucked your hips against his nose, to this he squeezed your thighs to stay still. He removed himself, sweeping down quickly to your inner thighs. He quickly bit down; his teeth left indents.

You groaned again, your abs tightening, you felt a quick forced rush like a cramp in your lower abs. Gale chirped in surprise, a wide smile growing on his lips.

“Aha! I have turned on the tap it seems.” His tongue memorized the outlines of your folds, sweeping up the salty ejaculate. Your face burned. Gale’s gaze turned quizzical “this hasn’t happened before?”

“No- not really.”

His eyes widen, and brows raise. “The child of bhaal I know very well- that has done heinous things that in the eyes of any a god would have them hell bound, hasn’t had their tap turned.”

“there’s only so much you can do with a corpse.”

He huffs, a slight frown at the mention. “Not even your noble friend?”

“No, no- I suppose not. I received pleasure- yes, but not that. It feels odd.”

“it’s completely normal, don’t worry your head.” He stroked your thigh, shifting his weight back to his haunches. “Is this position ok?” he slid his knees under your thighs,

The hand dissipated inside of you, another jingled into life to grab the bottle of lubricant. He poured it over his hands and shaft, lubricating it. he smoothed the rest of the hydrating oil onto your knees, giving both a peck.

He lined himself with your entrance, holding your hips before leaning forward into you. His head bowed, lips grazing yours as he let out a slow and shaky moan. He hit hilt, a tight squeeze forcing a rumble from his chest.

“Gods- “he hissed, “look how tight you are now- for me- so sweet like this.” He nestled his head into your neck, pulsing slow shallow strokes into you. “My pretty star, hm? Does this feel good?”

“Quite lovely- thank you” you gasp out, pressing him closer into your skin. Your toes curled uncomfortably, yet your heart sang. The buzzing returned to your clit, the sounds from your cunt were absolutely sinful, wet and erotic- followed by the steady slap of gales thighs against your ass. Again, you felt a taught pressure in your groin, catching gale off guard. Moans fell from his lips, as he canted his hips into you. You could feel his cock head nestling near your cervix. Your eyes clamped shut, your thighs steeled around him. He let out another happy groan, buried now balls deep inside of you. You rocked together in earnest, happy sobs leaving your lips as a sweet numbness spread throughout your body.

His breath was warm against your neck, leaving scattered kisses along the alcove. His thrusts became languid, like ocean waves, another orgasm crashed through you. Gale let out a louder hiss, his teeth scraped against the soft skin of your neck.   “At this rate. I’m about to break- can you cum for me once more?”  he whispered against the cusp of your ear. You nodded feverishly, your hands scratching up his spine, he lifted your legs over shoulders using your thighs to brace and stabilize his weight. His thrusts now were sloppy and excitable, kissing your calves and knees.  You reached for him, holding his

hand. His breaths puffing out, as he rutted into you, your knees folded back as he found a rhythm. He began to sputter out, kissing you sloppily, his mouth hot and tongue needy. He cried out, buried deep within you. You felt a warm rush as he rode out his orgasm, another snap within your core had you shattering like a mirror. Another warm rush cascaded around you, dripping down and around his crotch.

“The tap turns!” he exclaims breathless, seated within your heat. He softens inside you, turning you to the side, and flopping next to you.

You felt fresh in your newly laundered robes, they smelt like roses. It seems the bath had a similar effect on your companions. All left contented, a flush of alcohol on their cheeks, and a pep in their newly shiny step.

You held hands with Gale taking your leaves, the less they knew the better.

[noxtivagus]

yoko shimomura i love her style so much

[writtenonreceipts]

Rowaelin Month Day Two: Spies/Heist @rowaelinscourt

Month Masterlist // AO3 Link

Inspired mostly by Leverage but also White Collar

Will be a mix of being set in the US and with Terrasen being a real place bc I can be more lenient with history and art and such this way.  Just go with it.

Summary: She’s a thief with only one thing on her mind: finish the job and move on.  When she’s asked to break into Terrasen’s Museum of Art, Celaena has her doubts.  Mostly because she’d much rather be grifting her way across Europe.  But when she learns what needs stealing?  Well…her schedule clears right up.  Enter the client, a pain in her ass.

Warnings: None, ~3.6k words

.*.*.*.*.

The Too Far Gone Job (Part One)

There was a subtly to her job that no one quite understood.  It wasn’t surprising this day in age, but Celaena was a bit insulted by it all the same.  Too often people were so precocious and proud in themselves that they failed to recognize that beauty was in the details.  Many things took a great deal of care to be done properly.  A brain surgeon didn’t rush in with a scalpel after hardly reading scans.  A gymnast would spend hours and years perfecting that one little twist to bring the perfect flip.

And a thief?  Well, a thief would take her time with understanding every intimate detail of her target before attempting a break-in.  The Mortimer Wyrdlock for example was the best, most secure safe in the world.  Built with seismic sensors as well as heat sensors, biometric scans, and thick, metal that no mere handheld saw could touch—it was suicide to even try and get close.

Celaena always put her faith in the underdog.

Concerto No. 4 in F Minor played through the grand halls of Terrasen’s Museum of Art.  She’d always preferred this concerto to the others mostly for the violin.  For the feeling it evoked for the way it always felt like there was a game afoot, a secret to be held, all with the slow building crescendo.  It was beautiful.  Once, she’d been able to play it on the piano, rather compellingly if she could say so herself.  That was before she’d been ushered into her current lifestyle.

All of the things she loved about the song were only emphasized by the marble and vaulted ceilings of museum.  And even though the song was still just an afterthought to cover the chatter and scuffing feet of the party, Celaena could appreciate all the subtle nuances of the song.  Glorious and powerful.

She weaved through the many bodies meandering about the hall.  Most, if not all, were too consumed with the expensive champagne and caviar floating around them.  It was far too easy to pick a target in all the men (and women) surrounding her.  Especially the senator that was already drunk with his fancy watch hanging out in the open like that.  Of the string of Eyllweian diamonds that another woman wore.  So easy.

But she had a plan.

And it only seemed right that this plan be executed here.  It had been ages since she’d stolen something from this museum.  Twelve years to be exact.  She’d been twelve and pressed to execute a flawless grift. 

The architecture of the building was flawless, truly.  The vaulted ceilings, the tall windows that stretched along the walls to look over the Oakwald Mountains.  It created an atmosphere of elegance and finesse.  It was one of the oldest buildings in all of Terrasen, one of the last remaining from the war. 

Which made it the perfect target.

Celaena fingered her glass of champagne as she moved through the masses of people.  She could have spoken to a few of them, that was what she loved most about a job.  The grift.  The subtle machinations she made to ease a mark into doing what she wanted.  It wasn’t lying and it wasn’t stealing, it was merely encouragement. It helped that most of her marks were bastards and the very thing that was wrong with society.  Usually.  Most of the time she just wanted the shiny things. (Alright so it was lying and it was stealing, but could you really blame her?).

Truth be told, she was just a little distracted by all the beauty surrounding her.  There were the vases from Mesopotamia, the old book of King Brannon, the Darcus blades.  She really wanted to steal those, but it would almost be too easy.  All she needed to do was flirt with the security guard doing a terrible job to blend in with the party.  The poor thing was in a cheap suit and poorly done tie…how had he gotten approved for this job?  It would almost be mean to target him.

Celaena moved through the party with ease, setting her champagne flute on a passing tray, only acknowledging the server with a small nod, the server barely offered a smile.  A strand of Celaena’s red hair fell over her eyes and she flicked it back casually.  Her dress clung to her frame, thin as she was.  She allowed her own confidence to carry her when she felt weak.  Because she was more than capable of this task.  In all her years of the grift, her appearance and the way she interacted with those around her proved to be the surest way to get a job done properly.

So, Celaena wore her too thin frame to her advantage and became what everyone expected: daddies little girl slumming her way through a party. 

She was invisible when she wanted to be which let her slip down an un-manned hall.

The archived vault of the museum often held the more private items.  Those that were not to be displayed without express permissions of certain clients.  Celaena’s target for tonight actually was one such item.

It was far too easy to slip down a service staircase.  She’d gotten her hands on a universal scanner so she could hack various systems with ease.  Usually if she was doing her job right, the mark was opening doors for her.  Unfortunately for her, tonight she needed more finesse and isolation.

Holding the skirt of her dress in one fist, Celaena moved down the stairs.  Her research on the museum told her that most of the below staff would be dismissed for the Gala above.  There would be one historian finishing up cataloging and a security guard to keep them company.  The security guard would have a simple enough rotation, likely only venturing on rounds once every thirty minutes.  This area was even better secured then upstairs, the guard needn’t worry about a thief like her.

Celaena couldn’t help but smirk at the thought.

She wished she could be back upstairs mingling and grifting.  It was what she preferred.  She liked putting on that mask, liked slipping away into another persona, liked pretending she was anything but herself.

As she turned down a one of the halls, she checked the small signal reader she’d stuffed into her bra.  Her comms had remained silent all night, not surprising.  But she’d thought there would have been at least something.

Four steps forward to a small alcove where the old diaries of some old white man were held.  Two breaths.  Duck back out and then left and straight.

The Mortimer Wyrdlock stood before.  The chrome fixtures glinted in the overhead lights leaving the safe looking like something out of any thief’s wet dream.  Elide was going to kill her for this.

“Hello, beautiful,” she murmured.  The safe really was deserving of all sorts of praise.

A soft noise came from the other side of her comms.

“Anything you’d like to add?” she said, keeping her voice low.

Nothing.

Celaena rolled her eyes and approached the safe.  The lovely little beastie practically called her name.

She stayed in her little alcove waiting a beat, two.  Down one of the other halls she heard the subtle conversation of the historian and security guard in one of the labs.  Unsurprising, she’d encouraged a meeting between them last week, prompting a friendship.  A small little hack into their lives revealed them both to be bird enthusiasts.  A little nudge here and there and they were automatic best friends. 

She wished it were that easy for her.  Making friends.  But what could she do?  Tell someone what she really wanted to do was bungee off the Eiffel tower?  Break into the Louvre?  Steal one of Terrasens national treasures?

No one understood her on that level.  Not anymore.

She approached the keypad lock of the safe and set to work. 

Elide had worked a system override into the scanner that Celaena smuggled in with her.  All she needed to do was hook it up to the safe and let the code do the work.  That would take getting a wire into the system.  Something that Celaena wasn’t the most comfortable with.  Maybe she should have tried the flirting and grifting route…but the client had been clear on the way the job should go.  They couldn’t even have a hint of anyone being manipulated and used.  Rude, honestly.  People were used and coerced every day.  Tricking someone into giving her the Ring of Mab didn’t seem so problematic when you really thought about it.

Celaena made contact to the keypad.

Her handheld device ran through a string of numbers and binary as it worked.  Gooseflesh rose on her skin, but that was to be expected.  Before the Gala, Celaena had made sure the heating system when down to alter the heat sensors readings.  It also helped that the sequins of her dress were heat reflective and had been tested to throw off certain sensors.

As she continued to work, Celaena didn’t want to think about how long it had been.  Usually she didn’t have to, but in this case, she was on the clock.

Her fingers flew over the screen as she manipulated the numbers just as Elide had taught her.  It was simple enough, but if she ran into any walls or blocks, Celaena had no idea what she would do.  She knew the basics to get what she needed and wanted on any other job, but the Mortimer?

As her heart pulsed in her throat, Celaena punched in the last sequence she needed.

She couldn’t help but hold her breath as she waited for the system to respond.  She was taking too long.  She knew she was taking too long.  Even with the chill of the room, she could still feel sweat collect along the back of her neck.

And then the cogs began turning.

As the vault swung open on silent hinges, Celaena allowed herself to take a breath.  She certainly didn’t get the same charge out of this as Elide.  Give her a cocktail and a trust fund baby any day.

She didn’t bother worrying about her fingerprints as she pulled the vault door open further.  Those had been burned off as a birthday gift when she was twelve.  And consistently afterwards.  Eventually most of her prints stopped regenerating and only the pinky finger of her left hand and middle finger of her right were legible.  She’d learned to adapt the way she touched and handled things. 

Inside, the vault wasn’t as spacious as the movies made scenes like this appear.  Even though it was nearly seven feet tall and five feet wide, there were still shelves that lined the walls and smaller casements for various items.  Once Celaena entered she felt constricted over the small space.  Pushing those sentiments aside, she went straight to the back of the vault where her target was clearly laid out.

The Eye of Elena, to some, was a simple necklace.  Easy in design without too many adornments and gems.  But the story behind it was what was truly remarkable.  Once, it was said to have belonged to an ancient queen who had worn it as a shield of protection and power.  This queen lived under many names, many faces, and led to the redemption of her kingdom from invaders.  The legends said it was magic and the hand of the gods.  Historians said she was a brilliant tactician with skilled generals (while also indicating that there was no way a woman could have accomplished all that she had done).  Celaena liked believing in the greater legends.

The glass case of the Eye was what made the Mortimer Wyrdlock so special.  It had personalized individual sections for specific items that could be adjusted to various parameters.  The sight of the necklace though, sitting on that satin pillow with a gold light shining down on it—it sparked a bit of rage within her.  The necklace didn’t belong to the museum and it didn’t even belong to her client.

And here she was stealing it.

The card inside the case indicated the donator it was on loan from.  On loan.  More like coerced.  Everyone felt intitled to something just because it glittered in the light. The original owners had indeed donated it to the museum, with the promise of getting it back.  But Celaena had seen the drawn-out documents between lawyers and directors insisting that it belonged to the museum.  That the owners had forfeited their rights to the necklace due to the smallest of red tape, coercion.  Control.  Lies.

The necklace didn’t deserve to be treated this way.  Strange to say about a necklace but true none the less.

This case used biometrics to open which was a little tougher to hack, but they’d been prepared for that.  It only took a few keystrokes to trick the technology to accept Celaena’s eye scan and the case popped open.

In her comm, Celaena heard a small cough.  She rolled her eyes.

“You could have done this yourself, retrieval specialist,” she murmured, knowing the comm could pick up just about any soft-spoken sound she made. “Give me five.”

Nothing on the other line.

Celaena took that as a victory and went to work.  Carefully, she opened a small drawstring bag lined with traces of led and dropped it in the necklace.  And the card.

She tucked the sachet in a secret pocket along the lining of her dress and replaced the lid.  She made her way back out of the vault before pausing at the doorway.  She ran her hand along the edge and allowed a little smirk to play on her lips.  Her work would run for just a moment longer.

.*.*.

The alarm went off just as Celaena left the archival stairwell.  She let the door shut behind her and slipped into the crowd of guests that were being ushered out of the museum.  Protocol stated that all guests were subjected to a search before and after leaving.  The good thing about being a thief and a grifter?  The rules didn’t apply to her.

She ducked into a storage closet just past the Van Goh exhibit to find a duffle bag already waiting for her.  Inside was an extra server uniform, pair of black shoes, and a taser.  She made the change of clothes quick and smooth, just as she’d practiced.  The sachet and necklace went in her bra and the scanner to an ankle holster.  Thankfully the uniform dictated flared pants for women and not a skirt.

From there it was easy to blend in with the catering crew and then disappear into the night.  Truly, some people were really unobservant.

When she ducked into an alley a few blocks away, it was the first time that Celaena took a breath.  A deep breath that filled her lungs.  It wasn’t clean or clear, but she was breathing and she was free.

Just thirty yards away waited a plain white van with the decals of a plumbing company.  She was about to make her way to it when she heard a scrape come behind her.

Spinning, Celaena’s hand went to the taser in her pocket.  She really wanted to tase someone.

“Well done,” a deep voice said from the shadows. “Only took you an hour.”

“You sound surprised,” she replied, fingers still reaching for the taser.  “You should know better than to underestimate me.”

It really was insulting when people doubted her…even if most of what anyone knew about her was based on rumor.

The man only hummed in response.  He came a few steps closer before stopping.  The pale lights of the street lamps barely permeated the night, but it was enough to get a decent look at him.  She’d only met him once before, heart rumors of him aside from that.  Well, their meeting had been less of a meeting and more of a shower of bullets.  She recognized him all the same.

His silver hair, his large build, the sharp angles of his face.  Tonight, he wore dress pants and a black shirt rolled to the elbows, leaving powerful forearms on display.  He was a force to be reckoned with, a fighter, a killer.

Everything about Rowan Whitethorn screamed danger.  Celaena knew better than to trust him.  But for this particular job, she wouldn’t regret being selfish.

“Oh, I’m not a fool, Rowan said.  He held out a hand. “Which is why I’m here.  My necklace?”

Celaena sneered at him. “My payment?”

“Transferred.  Don’t you trust me?”  He smirked at her, coming just a step closer.

Did he have to be so big?  And as much of an asshole as he was?

“I don’t trust anyone.”

“You can check your accounts, it’s all there.”  Rowan didn’t look at all worried or concerned over her lack of faith.  Instead, he merely waited as she pulled out her phone (which was essentially the scanner she’d used for her thievery) and checked her account as prompted.  It was all there.  All hundred thousand.  She was honestly a little surprised he’d kept his word.

Celaena said nothing as she took the necklace from her bra and walked it toward him.

“Can I know what your plans are for it?” she asked, tone neutral and even.

“No,” he said.  He adjusted one of his sleeves, making sure the cuff stayed rolled up properly. “Just know that it’s going to well taken care of.  You don’t need to worry.”

Celaena dropped the sachet into Rowan’s hand and he returned the comm she’d given him for the night. “As long as you know about the curse.”

Rowan raised a brow before he opened the bag to peek inside. “Curse?”

“Sure,” she shrugged and took a slow waltz in a circle around him. “The old queen who slaughtered an army who dared try to steal from her?  She still haunts that necklace, you know.”

Rowan didn’t bother acknowledging her.  He only tucked the necklace in his pocket. “Aren’t you a little old for ghost stories?”

“Nope.”

She stopped in front of him once again and clasped her hands behind her back. “Sleep well, Mr. Whitethorn.  I hope your dreams are nightmarish and bloody.”

“Try not to miss me too much,” he said in reply.

Celaena spun on her heel and headed to the van.  She didn’t look back until she was already pulling the driver’s door open.  When she had settled herself in the driver’s seat and looked through the windshield, the alley was empty.

Scrubbing a hand down her face, certainly smudging any remnants of her make-up, Celaena drew in a deep breath.  It had been a long night and was only going to get longer.  It didn’t help that she had a massive headache brewing behind her eyes.  She waited a few more minutes to make sure the alley was empty before reaching into the other side of her bra, drawing out another black baggie.

Upending the bag, a display card and golden necklace fell into her lap.  The necklace she’d given Whitethorn was an exact replica of the original.  A damn good replica if her supplier knew what they were doing.

Celaena glanced at the card and made a small promise to herself, and her family.  She would get the necklace back to its proper owners.  And then maybe she could finally be herself again.

Donated by the Ashryver-Galathynius Family

She ran her nails along her hairline before she tugged the red wig from her head and tossed it to the back of the van just as the passenger door opened.

“Next time I get to break into the fancy safe and do the stealing,” Elide said as she clambered in.  She still wore her server’s uniform of white and black, her hair pinned in a tight bun. “I hate people.”

“Sure. Next time.”

“How beautiful was the Mortimer?” Elide asked, a small pout forming on her lips. “Did you see how the wiring connected?  How did the scanner do on the hack?  Did I program it right?”

“It was big and black and a safe,” Celaena said.  She yawned and shook out her blonde hair until it fell around her shoulders. “You took a little longer tripping the alarm then I thought you would.”

Elide pulled a face. “Because I don’t set alarms off.  Looks like you tricked the client.”

“For now,” Celaena said.  She passed the necklace and her phone to her friend. “Transfer the payment so he can’t take it back when he notices the switch.”

“You think someone can hack an account I set up in the first place?” Elide let out a mirthless laugh. “Oh sweet honey child.”

Celaena rolled her eyes and started the van. “Just do it.  Let’s get back to base.”

“Home, it’s your home,” Elide insisted.

Except it wasn’t a home.  It hadn’t felt like a home in so long that she wasn’t even sure what the word meant.

“Whatever,” Celaena said. 

She pulled out onto the road and began the trek across the city.  She made sure they weren’t being tracked or followed, that would put a damper on the evening.  She’d rather be across the country before Whitethorn realized she tricked him.

Her plan wasn’t exactly foolproof.  Steal a priceless artifact and what?  Give it back to the rightful owners?  What would they do with it except give it back to the rightful owners who would then be hit with insurance fraud.  She’d been impulsive and reckless.  Moreso than she usually was.

But she would think about that later.  For now, she would just revel in having the necklace in her possession.

*.*.*.*.

Not gonna lie, am really excited about this one! I hope you enjoy it! It'll be three parts total, the other two parts coming on other days during the month. Thanks for reading, reblogs and comments are appreciated!

[writingforstraykids]

Loved the Chan Milan fic! What about a male reader version with him fucking Chan's brain out instead?

Right here with you, always - m!reader version

Pairing: Chan x male!Reader

Word Count: 2282

Warnings/Tags: fluff, smut, unprotected sex, sub!chan, mirror sex (partly)

A/N: Hope you like it, lovey. Framwork is the same, smut is changed ofc🖤

do not repost, translate, or plagiarize my works in any way here or on other platforms. ©writingforstraykids 2024-

fem!version here

The cobblestone streets of Milan seemed to sparkle under the golden hues of the early evening sun as you and Chan made your way through the city. Milan was pulsing with life, its vibrant energy matching the excitement in your heart. Chan had invited you to join him on this glamorous outing, blending the worlds of high fashion and intimate togetherness.

You watched him from the corner of your eye, admiration blooming inside you. He was dressed in a blue shirt that highlighted the warmth of his eyes and complemented his dark hair. Chan suggested dinner at a small, elegant restaurant known for its secluded ambiance and exquisite Italian cuisine. Over plates of creamy risotto and perfectly aged wine, you shared stories and dreams, his laughter blending harmoniously with the soft notes of a violin playing somewhere in the background.

As the sky deepened into a velvety blue, Chan took your hand, leading you out into the enchanting night. Milan at night was a different kind of beautiful; the lights of the city reflected in the gentle ripple of the canals, the air filled with the subtle aroma of blooming jasmine. Walking through this cityscape with Chan, you felt as if you were part of a living canvas, every step painting a stroke of memories in your shared story.

Eventually, the night led you to his hotel, a place of refined elegance. Inside, the world quieted down to just the two of you. You guided Chan to the sofa in his suite, a soft, inviting piece that seemed to echo the plush luxury of your surroundings. As you settled into the comfort of the sofa, you pulled him gently into your lap, a smile playing on your lips.

“You look so beautiful tonight,” you whispered, your hands tracing the lines of his muscular arms, feeling the strength that lay beneath his soft shirt. “This blue shirt… it’s perfect on you. It makes your eyes look like chocolate; deep and endlessly sweet.” At first, he blushed, a shy smile curving his lips as his gaze flickered away. It wasn't often that he heard such open adoration, even from you, his partner. Yet, the honesty in your voice and the warmth in your eyes encouraged him to accept your compliments. You wrapped your arms around him, pulling him closer, your own confidence growing with the realization of how much he needed you in this moment.

“I love seeing you like this,” you murmured, your voice a soft rumble against his ear. Your hands were gentle but firm on his back, making every nerve in his body sing with a pleasant tension. The room around you seemed to fade, the sounds of Milan's nightlife a distant echo to the intimacy that unfolded between the two of you. “Love how handsome you look,” you told him, hands fondling up his thighs. “Love how your body always searches mine,” you confessed, biting back a soft groan as he pressed down against you.

Your lips met his in a fierce kiss, hand shooting up into his hair. Chan kissed back eagerly, grinding down against you with soft, needy sounds. Your grip on his hair tightened, your hips chasing his with a low groan.

As the kiss deepened, your senses overwhelmed by the gentle yet insistent passion between you, the world outside seemed to vanish completely. Your hands moved with a tenderness that contrasted and complemented the growing intensity of the moment. You were skilled, knowing exactly how to make him feel cherished and desired all at once.

Chan quickly got up, getting rid of his trousers and boxers in one go. After checking in with you, his shirt joined the rest of his clothes on the floor, and he stood bare before you. You lifted your hips, shuffling your pants down enough to free your aching length. Your hands found his hips, and you pulled him back into your lap, smiling at how thrilled Chan seemed. You made quick work of preparing him, stretching him out with your fingers and kissing down his neck hungrily. Chan sunk down on you soon, moaning out loudly as you stretched his fluttering walls just right.

Chan's hands found purchase on your shoulders, steadying himself as he began to move. His head tipped back, exposing the graceful line of his neck, his eyes fluttering shut in pure bliss. You held him closely, guiding him with a gentle yet insistent rhythm. The soft sounds of his pleasure mixed with the distant hum of the city night created a symphony of intimacy.

"You feel so amazing," you whispered, your voice husky with desire. You increased the pace, each thrust meeting him with a perfect alignment that sent waves of pleasure coursing through both of your bodies.

Chan's response was to grip your shoulders tighter, his nails digging in slightly as the intensity built. His moans grew louder, more urgent, and he began to meet your movements with equal fervor. The connection between you deepened, a tangible thread of desire that pulled you closer to the edge of ecstasy.

In the mirror at the closet opposite the sofa, you could see your reflections entwined in a passionate dance. Chan's body was a perfect contrast against your own. His skin was bathed in the soft light that filtered through the windows, highlighting his features in a glow that seemed almost ethereal. The sight of your dick disappearing inside him made you moan loud enough to catch his attention. "Look at us," you urged him, wanting him to see the beauty of the moment as you saw it. Reluctantly, Chan opened his eyes, and his gaze met the mirror behind the sofa, seeing the reflection from the mirror across the room. The sight of the two of you, so closely connected, so lost in each other, brought a new flush to his cheeks, but his eyes shone with an emotion that was deep and raw.

"Fuck," Chan breathed out, his voice catching as your movements brought him higher. “Need more, please,” he whined, needily moving his hips. “Go rough on me, please.”

Your heart pounded with desire at his plea, and you responded by increasing the intensity of your movements. Chan's moans grew louder, filling the room with the sound of his pleasure. When his moans reached a fever pitch, you decided to change positions. Gently, you lifted him off your lap, only to flip him around, settling him back onto you so he was facing the mirror on the closet. The new angle made him gasp, his eyes widening as he saw the full reflection of his own pleasure. 

You wrapped one arm around his waist to steady him, your other hand coming up to cover his mouth, muffling his loud moans. "Shh," you whispered in his ear, your breath hot against his skin. "We don't want everyone to hear us."

The sensation of being silenced, coupled with the sight of himself in the mirror, seemed to drive Chan wild. His eyes locked onto yours in the reflection, his pupils dilated with lust. He started moving again, his hips grinding against you with a desperate urgency.

"Look at how beautiful you are," you murmured against his ear, your voice a low growl. "Look at how perfect we are together."

Chan's muffled moans vibrated against your palm, his body shivering with the intensity of the sensations. You kept your rhythm steady; each thrust hitting deeper, more precise, driving both of you closer to the edge. 

Your eyes never left the mirror, watching the way Chan's body responded to your every move. The sight of him, completely undone, his face flushed and eyes filled with raw desire, spurred you on. "You're mine, Chan," you growled, your grip on his waist tightening. "Only mine."

He nodded, his eyes rolling back slightly as another wave of pleasure crashed over him. His body trembled, his muscles tightening around you in a way that sent shivers up your spine. You could feel your own release building, the tension coiling tighter with each thrust.

You thrust harder, each movement pushing him closer to the edge. The mirror reflected the raw intimacy of the moment, your bodies moving in perfect harmony, the connection between you palpable and undeniable.

Chan's eyes were locked onto the mirror, his breath coming in shallow gasps. The sight of you behind him, your hands steady and confident, was overwhelming. His skin was flushed, his lips parted, and the tension in his body was electric. You could see every muscle in his back tense with each thrust, the sight of your reflection in the mirror making the moment even more intense.

"Fuck, Y/n," Chan managed to moan through your hand, his voice barely audible but full of raw emotion. The sight of his flushed face, the way his body moved with yours, was almost too much to handle. You could see the ecstasy building in his eyes, the need, the desire, everything laid bare in the reflection.

"You're close, aren't you?" you whispered in his ear, your voice thick with lust. "I can feel it, Chan. Show me how much you need this."

With another hard thrust, Chan's body tensed, his eyes rolling back as he almost reached the peak of his pleasure. His muffled moans were drowned out by your hand, his body shaking with every wave of ecstasy. You could feel the tightening of his walls around you, the warmth of his climax making you lose control as well.

With a final, powerful thrust, you buried yourself deep inside him, your release hitting you with the force of a tidal wave. Chan's muffled cries of pleasure filled the room, his body convulsing as he followed you over the edge. 

You held him close, both of you riding out the aftershocks of your climax. Slowly, you removed your hand from his mouth, pressing soft kisses along his neck and shoulder. "You did so well," you murmured, your voice filled with tenderness. "So beautiful, so perfect."

Chan turned his head slightly, his eyes meeting yours. "You’re amazing.”

You smiled, your heart swelling with love for him. "With you, it’s always perfect," you replied, your hands gently caressing his sides.

The world outside the hotel room was a distant memory, the night in Milan a backdrop to the profound connection you shared with Chan. As he lay in your arms, the city lights twinkling outside the window, you knew that no matter where life took you, moments like these would always bring you back to each other.

-

Later, after you had both cleaned up and settled into the luxurious bed, the quiet intimacy continued to envelop you. Chan's gentle touches and soft murmurs of affection filled the space between you, making even the simplest moments feel special.

"Do you remember our first trip together?" Chan asked, his voice a soft rumble in the darkness.

You smiled, recalling the memory fondly. "Of course I do. How could I forget? It was magical."

"It was," he agreed, his fingers tracing lazy patterns on your arm. "But this... tonight... it's even better."

You turned to face him, your eyes meeting in the dim light. "Why do you say that?"

"Because we're here together," he replied simply, his voice filled with sincerity. "Because every moment with you is better than the last."

Your heart swelled with love for him, and you leaned in to kiss him softly. "I feel the same way," you whispered against his lips. "Every moment with you is a gift."

As he drifted off to sleep in your arms, he knew that no matter what challenges or adventures lay ahead, you would face them together, your love growing stronger with each passing day.

-

The next morning, the soft light of dawn filtered through the curtains, casting a gentle glow over the room. You woke up to the feeling of Chan’s fingers gently tracing patterns on your back, his touch a comforting presence.

“Good morning,” he murmured, his voice still husky with sleep.

“Good morning,” you replied, turning to face him. His eyes were warm and filled with love, and you couldn’t help but smile at the sight.

Chan leaned in, capturing your lips in a slow, tender kiss. “How did you sleep?” he asked when he pulled away.

“Perfectly,” you said, your heart swelling with happiness. “How about you?”

“Best sleep I’ve had in a long time,” he admitted, his smile widening. “Being with you always makes everything better.”

You snuggled closer to him, savoring the peaceful morning. “I feel the same way,” you confessed, feeling a deep sense of contentment.

As the morning progressed, you both took your time getting ready, enjoying the relaxed pace of the day. The streets of Milan called to you, promising new adventures and memories to be made. But no matter what the day held, you knew that the connection you shared with Chan would remain the most beautiful part of your journey together.

-

Walking through the bustling streets of Milan once more, hand in hand with Chan, you felt a profound sense of gratitude for the love and happiness you had found. The city seemed to sparkle with the promise of new experiences, each moment adding to the rich tapestry of your shared life.

Chan squeezed your hand gently, his eyes reflecting the same joy that filled your heart. “Ready for another day of adventures?” he asked, his voice filled with excitement.

“Absolutely,” you replied, smiling up at him. “As long as I’m with you, I’m ready for anything.”

And with that, you both stepped forward, ready to embrace whatever the day had in store, knowing that together, you could conquer the world.

MASTERLISTS | PROMPT LIST | GUIDELINES

Taglist (Please let me know if you want to be added to or removed from the taglist):

@atinyniki @galaxycatdrawz @silverstarburst @aaa-sia @lilmisssona @kthstrawberryshortcake @channieaddict @soullostinspaceandtime @rebecca-johnson-28 @lixie-phoria @kibs-and-bits @xxstrayland @ihrtlix @pheonixfire777 @mellhwang @palindrome969 @michelle4eve @harshaaaaa @rylea08 @heeyboooo @manuosorioh @gisaerlleri @andassortedkpop @bbokari711 @kazuuuaaa @rssamj @wolfyychan @stellasays45 @chrizzztopherbang @ionlyeverwantedtobeyourequal @silentreadersthings @myforevermelody143 @sapphirewaves @james-is-here @queer-possum

[imaginesinthewind]

Dating Regulus Black would include

From anonymous: Hi love 🩷✨I was just wondering if you can write dating regulus black headcanons? Like the Sirius one (that I’m absolutely obsessed with btw).

A/N: Dear anon, I hope you will like this one. I'm sorry about the time it took, I just simply forgot to check my inbox 🫠. Gif above is not mine. Also, I'm trying more and more to write things in gender neutral. Feel free to comment if I missed something. 💛

- He has that poetic elegance that follows him like a shadow. He is beautiful, like a Dead Poets Society character, or like Dorian Gray.

- Shy boy at first. Let's not lie, Sirius takes so much space that our Regulus has to be the quiet, introverted one.

- You probably would have to make the first step.

- Lonely boy. Not because he doesn't like people, but because like every child who had abusive parents, he's just so anxious, scared of taking too much space. And just like his brother, he keeps his emotions to himself, and stays alone when he has a problem.

- Stolen glances and smiles across the classroom at first.

- He falls for you not because you are so beautiful, but because you are smart and insightful.

- He takes you on dates under the stars, to the library, sharing about his favourite poems or novels.

- When he doesn't dare to share about his feelings, he talks to you in French.

- "Tu sais que tu es jolie comme un cœur?"

- At some point, when he refuses to give you the translation, you ask Sirius, who is tempted to translate bullshit to you just to mess with his little brother. He doesn't, though. Because he knows how smitten he is with you.

- A.proper.gentleman

- Offers you his arm, kisses your hand, gives you his jacket if you are cold, opens doors

- Writes you beautiful letters with perfume on it

- Is the perfect dance partner

- You admire the way he speaks and writes so elegantly

- He plays the violin and piano, by education obligation. But when he notices how much you love it, he slowly grows to like it himself.

- He introduces you to his favourite cousin, Andromeda

- Shy kisses, passionate kisses, soft kisses

- So many kisses

- When Sirius leaves the family house/gets kicked out, things become heated.

- He keeps repeating how much he hates him for abandoning him. Deep down, you know that he still loves his brother

- Depressive episodes of feeling like he's not enough

- Tears and comforting hugs in the dormitories

- He tries desperately to fix things between his parents (understand by that Walburga), rather than step out for his beliefs

- A lot of pressure

- You give him shoulder massages and run your fingers through his black curls

- When he is given the Black family ring, after some time, he gives it to you because of the protection spells on it. He just wants to keep you safe.

- His patronus is originally Padfoot. After a while, it shifts into the same as yours, because no one makes him more happy than you

- He avoids the matter of the mark. But in the summer of his 16th birthday, when he suddenly stops answering your letters, you have a bad feeling

- That reveals to be true when you go back to Hogwarts

- You encourage him, again and again, to talk to his brother

- In the end, i like to believe that he proposed, and fought for his beliefs because he wanted to build a safe world for you and his future family

(a girl is allowed to dream)

[marsspeedway]

I think Tumblr likes the COLLEGE AU and I love the AUs…. THEN GABRIEL PLAYS THE VIOLIN (the original idea) AND THE KEYBOARD WHY NOT.

The fanfic was inspired by: https://www.tumblr.com/themachine/742337025681850368/happy-friends-day-everybody

If you are willing to read 2725 words of a work in progress about Gabriel and V1 here it is: *English is not my first language so sorry if there are mistakes, this is mostly translated with an online translator and some corrections by me.

Gabriel really didn't expect to find some dusty old belongings when he returned to his parents' house for a small family dinner with his mother, his two older brothers and a few other relatives he's not very close to. He didn't expect to find Michael so excited when his mother pointed out that he was in the attic, nor did he expect Michael to have taken most of the items out of the boxes when he got there.

The items were scattered on the floor, a few other boxes and the small folding table they kept there. Most of it was his father's stuff, junk or trash he doesn't care about but knows his mother doesn't have the heart to throw away; not when it's the last memories she has of his father before he disappeared.

Gabriel remembers him: a tall, elegant man, extremely strict and whom he had very little time to be around. Even his brothers, who should have known him better, don't know much about him either.

Now, standing here in the dusty air caused by Michael snooping and rummaging through boxes, Gabriel looks around. The attic is not small although neither is his house so he finds it normal. They keep huge amounts of antiques from his grandparents and even great-grandparents or older ancestors that he has only heard stories about. For example: an old desk that belonged to a writer in his family, one of those huge clocks that he remembers they had for a long time in their living room and that he still remembers jumping out of fright every time it rang, Raphael's old drum set is also lying around dismantled and of course Michael's cello in a corner next to the drums on the floor.

Gabriel looks at them and clearly remembers that these things didn't go there, these used to be in a deeper part of the attic.

"What are you looking at Gabe?"

The young man turned his head when he detected his brother's voice and silently motioned with his head towards the instruments. The man walked over, standing next to Gabriel to look at what he was referring to.

"Ah those old things? Well, I thought I'd take my cello to practice again and Raphael wanted his drums too." Michael explained as he folded his arms and then hummed softly, Gabriel raised an eyebrow under his helmet without turning to look at him. "Just in case you want to know…" Michael said slowly, moving closer to Gabriel to slip an arm around his neck and leaning his weight on him.

This couldn't be good.

"Your keyboard and violin are in the back…" GOD DAMN- "I don't mean you should use them, you know…I was just reminding you in case you want them back or want to do something with them." Michael had to have felt him tense up and he definitely did; the way he gently bumped the sides of their heads together with the slight click of the metal of their helmets touching, the way he stroked his back reassuringly, the way he let him go when he felt Gabriel stir.

"You can get rid of them, you don't have to keep them." The older man reminded him by giving him a friendly pat on the shoulder before releasing him completely. "If you want them go ahead, they're in the back on the left… Call me if you need help with anything, yes?" Michael said as he walked away with Gabriel giving him a simple thumbs up in affirmation mode and drawing a chuckle from Michael as he gently shook his head. Sometimes he wondered where his brother had picked up such quiet habits.

When Gabriel watched Michael disappear down the stairs he turned around, hesitating for a second whether to actually go further into the attic but after a few seconds he decided to do so, sighing and spreading his wings to illuminate the area.

The further he goes in he can see more and more boxes, some sealed with tape and others just closed, others possibly opened by Michael and resting on or at the foot of some rotting furniture.

After poking around a bit Gabriel manages to get to the bottom, catching a somewhat large object that is covered by a dark tarp.

Gabriel swallows.

He reaches over, reaching down to drag the heavy tarp off the object's surface and drop it to the ground, revealing what's underneath: his old keyboard.

Okay, one of two… Where's the other one? Gabriel scans the area with his eyes, settling his attention on an old chair where, on the seat, rests a case now whitish thanks to the accumulated dust. Gabriel reaches over, running a hand over it in an attempt to clean it up a bit though it only spreads it further and decides to leave it alone, picking it up and taking it with him to where the keyboard is.

Gabriel used to love these things, don't get him wrong, but now that he remembers their existence and knows that Michael also knows they are here he doesn't hesitate to have his brother tell his mother about his rediscovery and his plans with his old cello. Gabriel's mother is a bit… intense when it comes to music or dance or waltz or whatever it is she likes.

She had made her 3 children practice ballet, she had rehearsed them for the fancy parties that were organized among the rich families in an attempt to make them gentlemen who knew how to waltz well with the damsels, she had put them in an orchestra and also a choir and of course she had made them attend church. It had been fun for a while; when they could play together and have fun or when they practiced anything whenever. But when Michael and Raphael began to have more duties and obligations they began to drift away; leaving Gabriel alone to face it all.

He danced, played, sang, attended mass every Sunday and was a good student until he too could quit like his brothers.

He remembers the moment when his mother informed him that he could stop his extracurricular activities, he remembers how he simply covered his keyboard and put away his violin for the last time one day and never played them again. He knows the same thing happened to his bible now lying somewhere in the bedroom he shares with V1, abandoned when he stumbled upon the blue machine that slowly pulled him away from the path of God his family had instilled in him to follow.

Ah… V1.

Well, now he no doubt knows someone who will be interested in the instruments. He doesn't plan to give them to them, he still loves them and wants to try them again but surely he can lend them to them if they ask for them. Taking them to them sounds like a good idea since besides cheering up the machine he has for a roommate he can practice and try to de-rust a bit before the recital he is sure his mother will force convince them to do.

Gabriel made a mental note to take them with him tomorrow morning when he went back to his dorm, maybe carrying them there won't be so comfortable but it will certainly be worth it to see V1, his friend, happy.

…

The dinner went well, honestly much better than he expected and he was happy with that. Especially since he managed to avoid all the questions about the church he attended, his schedule or if he had already conquered a lady. Of course he had! But it's different to ask that question than to ask if a lady had conquered him, because certainly hadn't. Not when there was a cerulean machine waiting for him in his apartment… FRIENLY- THEY'RE HIS FRIENDS. HE JUST LIKED THEM.

Anyway… It was good. Certainly much better than the last family dinner they had at Christmas. Gabriel never wants to see Michael angry again, that much is clear to him.

He doesn't remember why they had started fighting because, honestly, he hadn't been paying attention. Gabriel was more interested in eating or thinking about what he would do when he got back to his bedroom, thinking about the gift he had bought for V1 that was now hiding in his closet: a replica gun from a game that V1 had been looking for for some time now and that Gabriel had found in perfect condition at a garage sale. Even packaged and with its 4 coins! With the 'Marksman' in his possession V1 almost completed their collection.

Gabriel felt a little proud to have found it. It's old, he knows that, and he also knows that V1 would love it.

He was so deep in thought at the time that he didn't even notice when the voices around him began to raise and only noticed when a bump on the table made him jump in place and nearly spill the spoonful of mashed potato that was going straight into his mouth.

Ah… Another family situation. Nothing new for the times.

Whatever, the point is that this dinner was better than Christmas. And if you'd like to know: yes, V1 absolutely loved the gift. And Gabriel received a new microphone that he had been wanting to buy for a long time: now he could better record his little audios and attempts at home podcasts.

To commemorate the gift V1 opened it carefully, not wanting to damage anything in the slightest because: 1, it was a collector's item and 2, it was a gift from Gabriel. Instead the microphone was lightly tested, saving the real test for later when V1 received an audio from Gabriel that DEFINITELY tested the capabilities of the device.

V1 saved the audio.

Even if it was a silly audio of Gabriel basically mumbling into the microphone in a seductive, gravelly voice that he would kick their ass if they left a mess in the apartment again.

V1 saved the audio.

And now there was Gabriel, walking across campus in the direction of his shared residence hall with a keyboard under his arm and a violin case in his other hand along with his backpack on his back. It was less uncomfortable than he thought it would be although being a 6 foot tall, heavily muscled guy he doubted he would have much trouble with lifting that amount of weight.

When he found himself in front of the door he thought about knocking and waiting to see if the machine was home in the hope that they would open it for him but when he distinguished the sound of an electric guitar on the other side he considered that it would be better not to disturb them in one of their practices.

He fumbled to pass the violin case to his other hand and used the now free one to rummage in his pants pocket for his keys, snapping them into the lock when he found them and turning it to open the lock. The door opened and he was glad when the old hinge didn't squeak knowing that V1 had oiled it as he had asked.

He walked in closing the door behind him and finding his living room in a much better state than he thought it would be. The cushions were a bit of a mess but other than that everything was in its place: the small coffee table was clean with nothing on it, the bookshelves were still tidy, the couches weren't out of place and there was no junk around.

It was a relief.

The familiar sound of the electric guitar quieted for a moment and left him in total silence as he placed the keyboard on the larger couch and on it he laid the violin case, then as he took off his backpack Gabriel gave a nod and at the same time the guitar restarted loudly as Gabriel knew it would. The angel could easily imagine V1 doing the same as him only in a more passionate way and lost in the frenzy of the song: more intense and violent.

He took off his coat, leaving it hanging on the coat rack in the entryway as he made his way down the hallway humming the guitar melody before catching one of the lyrics and singing it quietly.

Rock hadn't been something he'd listened to much growing up, much less metal but he'd certainly grown fond of it since V1 started showing them to him and unconsciously, or consciously, they had become two of his favorite genres. He would deny it with V1, feigning annoyance when the machine would put music on the speakers or when they played a song he knew but they would quickly catch Gabriel humming softly or bobbing his head to the music but would say nothing about it. They would let it happen and enjoy the company in the moment.

At the end of the hallway was the bathroom and before that were the two rooms of the apartment: one facing the other. The doors matched and Gabriel remembers how more than once they both tried to leave at the same time without being aware of each other's presence and how they bumped into each other. At first they were annoyed, really only Gabriel was, but slowly as their friendship grew they both took it more gracefully; like a little attunement.

They learned each other's schedules so it didn't happen so often. Gabriel gets up first thing, at 5am to shower and take his time in the bathroom, at 5:30 the bathroom is free for V1 to use at 6am when they wake up and when they leave breakfast is prepared and ready on the table: blood and whatever Gabriel is going to eat. At 6:30 the dishes are clean and they both share the bathroom to finish getting ready: V1 wipes the unabsorbed or dried blood off the plating and Gabriel does whatever it is that angels do under that helmet of his. V1 still doesn't understand it, they just know it's like washing his mouth or brushing his teeth or something… Oh, and that Gabriel doesn't take off his helmet… Just like he doesn't take it off to eat.

Peeking through V1's half-open doorframe Gabriel watches them from behind, strumming the strings of their guitar with fervor and excitement as they nod their head before the song ends and thus they too must hit their last note.

The angel leans back against the door and watches fondly as the machine sucks in air and listens as the fans spin in the sudden silence, the machine's chest rises and falls in pseudo breaths in an attempt to keep their components cool after the intense movement and Gabriel laughs softly as he claps his hands, making the machine turn their head in his direction.

"Good job there, that sounds great!" Gabriel complimented as he walked into the room, V1 turning fully around to sign a 'thank you'.

"How was your weekend?" Gabriel asked approaching the robot who already knew his intentions since they saw him walking towards them slightly opening his arms.

"Pretty good. We practiced a lot and made progress on a few songs. How about you?" V1 signed before opening their arms and accepting Gabriel between them, letting themselves be squeezed by the strong angel in front of them.

"I'm glad you had a good time." Gabriel murmured sweetly, slouching down and resting his chin on the machine's shoulder. "A good family dinner, you know how they usually are…" Gabriel whispered soothingly, closing his eyes as he enjoyed the affection and feel of the metal of V1's arms around him.

"I also have something to show you." Gabriel hummed, pulling away and placing his hands on V1's shoulders. At the man's words the robot perked up, pulling away from him to bounce in place with excitement and curiosity, drawing a chuckle from Gabriel.

"Come, follow me." He said, sliding his hand down his companion's arm and taking their hand before leading them out of the room. V1 didn't complain, this had been something Gabriel had been doing unconsciously for the past few weeks and V1 found it harmless, almost cute if not charming.