#i will take dates with walnuts though

[mbti-enemies]

Date: So, what do you do?

INTP, holding up the menu: You just choose a meal from this book of food.

Date: What?

INTP: Have you never done this before???

[utterlyotterlyx]

The Girl Who Cheated Death

Azriel x Fem!Reader

Summary - There was no one in any universe who would dare to approach you without fear, that is until you meet a certain Shadowsinger. Once stone cold and vicious in your own right, you soon come to realise that perhaps all it takes is a pretty male with hazel eyes to set you free.

Warnings - kinda dark reader, stone cold, lots of sass, swearing, drinking, mentions of physical abuse, mentions of trauma, some subtle sexual tension, everyone being afraid of the reader because she's giving death vibes x

Word Count - 8.9k

Physical descriptions are present in this fic.

Based on this ask! Thank you @cleverzonkwombatsludge for the request 🫶🏻

"Can I offer some criticism?"

"If it's constructive..."

"You're an idiot," the unwinding braid at your side loosened more with each twist of your fingers, and to your right, through the reflection of the recently polished vanity mirror stood Amren, your closest friend that you had gained when you had first moved to the Night Court one hundred years ago.

It had been no accident that you and Amren had met, in fact, she had been the one to seek you out after a rather intriguing show you had directed at Rita's. Amren watched man after man almost break their necks to look at you, the most beautiful resident of the Night Court, and in all of Prythian. Hair that reminded Amren of a black widow swayed behind you in perfectly loose curls, it was sinfully dark and shone in the faelight, shimmering so brilliantly that Amren had thought that threads of silken web were weaved between each glossy black strand.

Amren also remembered the dress you had worn, it was short and tight, the fabric hugged every curve of your body and kissed the thighs that were connected to those incredible taut calves. If looks could kill then the Night Court would certainly fall to its knees.

It wasn't what you looked like that caught Amren's attention, however. It was the way that every single person in that room shrunk away from your stare, a stone iced glare that was void of any life, all that lay in them was ire and boredom, which quite perfectly summed up what you felt about life in general.

The firedrake sought you out, coming by the gallery you had opened in the city which held an array of carefully collected artworks and mysteriously rare antiques, just to get a glimpse of you, to see the one who had been the first to pique her eye in centuries. Amren had not been disappointed by you. There was something about the way you carried yourself that attracted her to your aura, the perfect posture and slightly hooded eyelids that encased walnut orbs that glimmered gold in the sun. That wasn't all, no, it was also the way you spoke, so sultry and dark, but there was a certain elegance your words. A siren luring souls to the darkest depths of the ocean floor.

Rhys had once suggested that you'd never truly age considering you never smiled. That had earned him a rare small quirk of your lip, and he considered it to be his greatest achievement of his life to date.

It had made sense that the Night Court had been the place where you had chosen to settle, it had moulded very well with you, to the point where Day had become an infantile dream that was floating away in your subconscious. Forgotten.

Despite being a collector of sorts, Amren had soon found out just how far your talented talons stretched, you were incredibly well versed in old dialects, ancient symbols and traditions, a talent that Rhys had soon asked Amren to take advantage of since he was too afraid of you to ask you for aid himself.

Seemed as though the terrifying High Lord of the Night Court was actually scared of something.

"How exactly am I an idiot?" Amren enquired with darkened orbs that kept on glancing downward to the scars that littered the bare spine from the licks of Illyrian whips. They were slightly raised and pallid in comparison to the rest of your healthy glowing hue.

Untethering the last of your braid, you ran your nails over your scalp and pulled slightly, shivering at the relief that surged through you as your hair fell unbound down your spine. All the taut tension in your body quickly evaporated. Silently, you turned on your seat to face your friend, "You're asking me to revamp my evil lair to make it more welcoming for your odd little family," you said incredulously and unblinking, "You're an idiot."

Amren wasn't exactly asking you to make your own home more appeasing to the Inner Circle, she simply meant the private office that Rhys had bestowed to you for whenever he needed your help with something, and it had become a place that you frequented often. It was located in the library of the House of Wind so that your nimble fingers had access to all of the books and ancient texts they needed.

The only settling thing about that office was the view of the golden valley of Velaris, of the snow-capped mountains that loomed to the north. Everything else filled any resident with dread. Tall well-loved candles were scattered about the space, cloths stained with millennia old text hung from the ceilings, tomes lay splayed open on the desk and centre table, each depicting some form of terror. To you, your work was fascinating, studying the origins of evil and all of its forms, to others it was petrifying.

It wasn't odd to find the firedrake confined in your apartment, whether you be with her or not, glass of red in hand and reading some sort of research text. Amren often didn't even glace up at you when you entered your own home, all she noticed was your shadow gliding across the room, drowning out the golden candlelight.

"Rhys would spend more time with you if you did. He's actually really insightful, he could help you with your study."

"Why would I want to spend time with him?"

A poor attempt from Amren to try and push you into a monotone civilian life yet again.

"Fine," Amren rolled her coiling silver eyes and tutted, "Are you ready? Rhys doesn't like to be kept waiting."

Irritation was rife in her voice, you clasped a dainty blood diamond around your neck and allowed your shoulders to drop, "I don't particularly care for your High Lord's time." Rhys was not your High Lord and he knew it, he knew that you couldn't be ruled over and would never answer to anyone but yourself. A queen of her own kingdom. But one he very much wanted to keep on his side.

"Y/N," Amren bit, and you too tugged back the smirk that was quaking in the corners of your mouth.

Meeting her fiery gaze in the mirror, you rolled your head to the side in one swooped graceful motion, "I'm teasing, Amren." Rising from the bench before the vanity, you felt the silken hem of your dress brush against your feet. It was a simple garment, black buttoned up fabric, a deep v-neckline that showed the beginnings of your cleavage, short and soft floating sleeves that cuffed above your elbows.

Smirking with approval, Amren moved to the front door of your ornately beautiful apartment, a personal haven of yours that was vastly different to the office at the House of Wind. Brunette carpets thick enough to sleep upon covered the space, the walls were a shade of milked coffee, warm and inviting, and the ceilings were a soft cream and coved with intricate carvings. A large fire bundled into the far wall at the centre of a wall of windows, before it was a onyx seating area of plush deep seated sofas and armchairs.

It was charming. One of the best views of Velaris was from your living room window.

Leaving your home with the click of the lock, you followed after Amren, falling into place beside her as you walked up the winding paths to the House of Wind. The feeling of people's eyes trailing you had become something you'd become rather accustomed to, they were astounded by your beauty, amazed by how someone could look so breath-taking yet so horrifying.

The House of Wind was as it always was, incredibly luxurious in its own right and shivering at your entrance. It wasn't like the house didn't like you, it just struggled to adjust to your energy, it was starkly different to the usual joy it mostly held.

The echoing voices halted when you rounded the corner, your scent of jasmine and sandalwood soaring through the air, infecting their oxygen. Violet eyes appeared before you within a couple of moments, always wary, always laced with the tiniest bit of fear, "Thank you for meeting with us."

"Well," your eyes sliced across the room, absorbing every face and feature and feeling somewhat intrigued by a face you had never seen before. Tall and tan, shadows swirling at his shoulders, large wings that he had mindfully tucked behind his back, and shiny black hair that fell over his forehead. Rhys stood before you waiting for you to speak, your eyes found his and you hummed, tapping your finger against your clothed thigh, "Anything for the firedrake."

A chortled scoff flew from Cassian and Rhys stepped aside slightly to expose you to the general who soon choked on the air, "Something funny, Cass?" Rhys asked with a smirk, he motioned for you to find a seat and make yourself comfortable.

A deep rooted velvet armchair called to you and you moved to it, paying little attention to the hazel eyes fixated upon you. "No, not at all," Cassian sent you a tight-lipped smile which made Nesta grin, enjoying his discomfort nearly as much as you.

Flames danced in your eyes, the fire burning brightly in the fireplace that welcomed your gaze as though it was a mirror. Turning your head, you folded your hands over your thighs, feeling the exposed skin that lay there from the seamless slit in the fabric.

"How about you skip whatever small talk you were going to offer and get to the point, Rhysand?"

Widened pupils possessed Nesta's gaze, she leaned back into her seat and smirked, a wickedly feline feature, and spoke, "I like you."

No words left your lips, you held her gaze and felt your darkness bubble at her determination to withstand your stare, but she soon stood down; though, she continued to watch you, noting your posture and the way you held yourself. Nesta was in awe.

And she wasn't the only one.

"Straight to the point as always, y/n."

"Am I supposed to be anything but?" Rhys sighed, a headache already forming at his temples from your dry sassing. Perhaps he needed some of that powder that Elain had gifted to Azriel last solstice.

The High Lord pinched the bridge of his nose and slid his hand to rest on Feyre's knee, a sweet gesture, "We need your help with some particular text that none of us can translate. If anyone is going to be able to decipher it then it would be you."

"What text?"

Boredom coiled in your gut, "It's the story of Koschei, we believe that there may be a key hidden within the text that could help us to defeat him." The coil loosened and your eyebrow twitched, and a dark spot to your left caught that millisecond-long expression, sliding back to its master and humming in his ear.

Koschei was a death-god, a personification of evil. To have your hands on such a text would more than aid your research. It would make you infamous in the underworld of Prythian.

"Is it in my office?" Rhys straightened and nodded stiffly; rising to your feet, you brushed down the pleats of your skirt, "I'll take a look."

Before you could move from the room, a gentle clearing of a throat sounded from behind you, beckoning and hesitant. Slowly, you turned around, noticing how Rhys was now standing, "I would like Azriel to help you with this. I believe that your collective talents will be able to decipher the message faster."

Of course. The illustrious Shadowsinger that you had never had the displeasure of meeting. Azriel, Spymaster of the Night Court.

"Studies have shown that I didn't ask for your opinion, High Lord," if anyone else had used the mocking tone toward his title they would have been misted on the spot. But not you, never you. Rhys was too afraid that Hell would rise from your ashes and devour the continent if he even tried it.

A cool kiss slithered around your ankle, and when you peered down you found a shadow curling there, caressing your skin and shivering in delight. Your eyes followed the tendril back to its owner who was clearly mentally scrambling to pull his shadow back to the others. Hazel collided with molten gold and you found yourself yearning for the shadow to return.

"I have to insist," his voice wavered and it didn't go unnoticed by you.

Amren sucked in a breath, shrinking further into her spot wedged between Mor and Elain, knowing that she told had told Rhys multiple times to never order you to do anything.

"What do you fear, Rhysand?"

"I think that you'll find that the word fear is not in my vocabulary," he doubled down and you couldn't blame him, he was an alpha protecting his territory.

Ticking your head to the side, your eyes dragged up his body, and you smirked, a real one that made his blood chill, "Perhaps. But it's in your eyes," not giving him a chance to respond, you turned to Azriel, finding him looking up at you with an almost bewitched possession in his eyes, "Stay out of my way."

Not another word was spoken as you stalked from the room, the only sound being the footsteps of Azriel who had speedily followed after you. Neither of you spoke on the descent down to the library, even that vast space of aged excellence watched you enter; you almost floated across the room, a grace in your steps that Azriel had never seen before, and it had him needing to know more.

How Azriel had never met you astounded him, he would certainly remember a face like yours. It was one that held the power to haunt his dreams.

As promised, the texts had been left on your desk, and you moved to them instantly, tracing your fingers down the bound leather spine and examining the golden embossment, picking apart the symbols in your mind. Rounding the large oaken desk, you pulled the text with you, opening the cover and not even flinching when it thudded against the desktop.

Thick waves fell over your shoulder and you mindlessly tucked them back from where they had originated, not caring about the effect it had on the Shadowsinger who noted how your fingers grazed against your collarbone on its return to the ancient pages before your insightful eye.

"I've never been in here before," a weak attempt to strike up conversation with you. Azriel had heard much about you from Cassian and Rhys, of how awful terrifying you were, how you intimidated every single person that crossed your path and seemingly enjoyed the terror of it.

Azriel understood it, there was something about you that was unnerving, that he could understand why people were uncomfortable in your presence, but he only found himself in wonderment of it.

Without looking up, you turned the page gently and muttered, "Why would you? It's my office."

Displeasure was prominent on your tongue, the taste of it swelled in the muscle but you didn't allow it to be vile, you pulled the bile back and silently choked on it.

Azriel drank in the room, the begging to be lit candles and the large arched windows, the aged tapestries of history that were clearly too valuable to display in your gallery, "The creation of the cauldron," the words pulled you from the text and your gaze narrowed in on the Shadowsinger rocking back and forth on the balls of his feet with his hands folded neatly at his back.

"How do you know that?"

The Shadowsinger circled to face you and took a tentative step to the edge of the desk, "I've seen a couple of the same markings in a cave. This is the original?"

"Yes," there were many deplorable things you had taken part in to secure your collection as the most impressive in the entire universe, some things you weren't proud of, others, you were very much so.

"How did you get it?" Azriel admired the piece, a depiction of Prythian's creation that no one would ever guess was as important as it was, all because they couldn't read the first language of the fae.

Sitting back in your seat, you placed your magniscope on the surface, an ornate tool used by curators and researchers alike to read between the lines of existence, and watched him, "There are some things in this world that would make even your blood burn, Shadowsinger."

The way you said his name had a shudder flickering down his spine, your tone was sultry and low, like you knew of his darkness and had decided that it was a star in comparison to whatever lived within you.

A golden glow shrouded the room from the setting sun kissing the mountain peak, it washed over you, its light glittering your skin with shimmer, turning your eyes into burnished gold. The blood diamond around your neck cascaded speckles of its hue across the ceiling, and your chest rise an fell with even, calm breaths.

Forgetting the reason why he stood before you, Azriel allowed himself a moment to examine you, the beautifully loose hair that swam down that perfectly curved spine, the eyes and cheekbones, the full lips and the indents of your collarbone. You were by far the most incredible thing he had ever seen.

The stolen moment wasn't one that escaped your eye, a gentle heat pooled at your cheeks and you had no option but to look away, clearing your throat and pouring your attention back into the text in front of you.

Coiling the magniscope in your fingers, you hovered it over the written symbols on the page, moving it in line with every line and swirl you could see. It was a heavy object, and you hadn't been surprised when Amren had mistook the glass orb as a bookend.

"What do you know of Koschei?" Azriel found a place in the seat opposite you, his shadows danced from his shoulders and began to inch toward you, and he made no move or command to stop them.

"There are many legends," you began, craning your neck to peer at the top of the adjacent page, "Attacking his physical body won't harm him, he has split his soul into parts and placed them in other living creatures or sentient objects. Destroy the objects and you have a better chance of ending him."

Azriel angled himself forward, propping his elbows on his knees, "How do you know that?"

Again, without looking up, you spoke, "When you spend a lot of time in the Underworld of this continent you pick up a few things. You also learn how to decipher the truth from the lies."

Another gentle turn of the page.

The taupe scribing possessed the faintest words written in a pale gold ink, so miniscule that any other magniscope wouldn't be able to see it. Though yours wasn't just any ordinary magniscope, it was forged with the stardust of a fallen star, a star that used to burn the brightest in the northern skies.

"You know of the Underworld?"

For a moment, your gaze flickered upward, golden pools peering through your long thick lashes, "Very well."

It wasn't surprising that you had dabbled in the darkest reality of the continent, your knowledge was not cheap, and it wasn't knowledge that you could gain from books alone. Azriel wondered how many souls you had stripped from the earth on your quest for knowledge, perhaps it would cause his count to pale in comparison.

"I could only imagine what someone would do for this level of knowledge," his voice lingered, questioning, requiring to know every corner of the mind locked within the female in front of him.

"Are you trying to compare body counts, Spymaster? If so, I assume I would be disappointed with your lacklustre attempts."

Then you were back on the text, scribbling words down in the notepad to your left without even glancing to it, focused to the point where no letter strayed from the lines. But you still felt his eyes on you, waiting, scouring your face and trying to figure out why exactly he had never crossed paths with you before considering your occupation.

"Don't you have some doe-eyed damsel to go and rescue?"

Even with the fleeting few minutes spent with the Inner Circle, you saw how Elain Archeron looked at him, all love-sick and hopeful. Elain was a perfectly mundane being, content with all things bright and pretty. It was sickening.

Biting back the urge to roll his eyes at the thought, Azriel shuffled into his seat, seemingly getting more comfortable, "No."

"Shame," you mused, impressing Azriel with how you scribed, analysed and spoke all at the same time. A very powerful mind was dwelling within you, and it had his attention.

Azriel was finding your dry words quite amusing, though he was spending his time sat before you in silence, sketching every inch of your face and body to his memory.

A soft tug pulled at your brows, and if Azriel wasn't fixated upon you then he surely would have missed it. He let a minute pass, a minute where the pace of your analysation quickened alongside the rate of your writing. Again, your hair fell over your shoulder, clearly bothering you but you couldn't move it, not when you were so entranced, and it took all of his will to not do it for you.

Questioning you on your findings, your eyes held a certain twinkle to them as you explained your theory. That Koschei had in fact fractured his soul and implanted the pieces of it within other living creatures and objects, and that to hunt those objects down was the only way to be able to banish him from the world.

"Run and tell your master," you told him after you were done explaining how to find the first host of Koschei's soul, "I'm sure he will be thrilled with your input."

Which was very little, Azriel hadn't done anything other than invade your space and make himself far too comfortable, but he didn't argue, he simply stood from his seat and bowed, taking your hand in his marred digits and raising it to his lips, brushing them against your knuckles and thanking you before leaving you to your silence.

The ghost of his touch lingered on you skin, as did the licks at your calves from the shadows he hadn't cared to reign in upon his exit.

It was then that a small yet foreign warmth pooled in your chest, you rubbed the spot gingerly and sighed, returning to reality and shaking your head back to sense. Finding peace in the confined corners of your mind.

The next instance where you found yourself in Azriel's presence had been one warm afternoon in the library.

Velaris had been scorched by the sun, the summer breezes swept across the city, and you had decided to wear a simple grey dress that afternoon, it was lightweight enough to flow in the gentle caress of the wind but still managed to keep to your usual elegant yet sharp style.

Since that insisted couple of hours in your office a couple of weeks ago, you were ashamed to admit just how much your thoughts drifted to the Shadowsinger you had seen lurking in the corners of your consciousness. The darkness was lingering in the farthest reaches, as if it didn't wish to be discovered by you but couldn't steer itself away.

The ladder beneath your feet creaked as you reached across the shelf, tongue stuck out of the side of your mouth as you strained slightly, your fingers barely brushing against the spine of the book you needed. A familiar cool presence washed over you, trailing up your skirt and arms and extending from your fingers to remove the book from the shelf and place it in your awaiting grasp.

Peering back to the ground, you saw Azriel stood at the foot of the ladder with his hands resting at his sides; balling the skirt up in your fingers, you used the railing the lower yourself back to the earth and paused in front of Azriel who had a brow quirked in curiosity, "Thank you."

"You're welcome," his voice matched your own but he found himself faltering when you went to walk by him. His voice called out to you, "I just wanted to let you know that we found the first host."

You paused your steps and turned, "And?"

"It's destroyed," and clearly the gravity of it weighed on him, he had to have known that Koschei wasn't exactly going to make the objects easy to destroy, but it still didn't mean that it wasn't traumatising.

Understanding what he meant, at the life he had just taken to protect to continent, you took a step toward him, an olive branch of sorts, "Are you alright?"

Itching with confusion, Azriel nodded slowly, "I didn't think you cared."

You shrugged, nonchalant, and scuffed the heel of your sandal against the floor with your gentle kick, "I don't."

Azriel hummed, a serene grin tugging at the corners of his lips, "I think that you do," Azriel took a step forward and noticed how your back straightened and shoulders rolled back.

The book became plastered to your chest, "Whatever you think is of little concern to me."

Two weeks had passed, two weeks of not only searching for the first host of Koschei thanks to your wildly impressive knowledge, but two weeks of Azriel doing all he could to gain your attention. It had been difficult to see you at Rita's, swaying to the music without a care in the world beside Amren, and not be able to touch the skin that seemed as smooth as honey.

His shadows had been following you, reporting back to him of how you spent your days cooped up in your apartment reading or in your office analysing another ancient text. They reported no men, nothing untoward or damning, they simply whispering to him how pretty you were. They had been bewitched by you, utterly obsessed with everything that you were, and he couldn't blame them.

Turning on the balls of your feet again, you entered your office, leaving the door open in silent permission that Azriel basked in as he followed you inside, "I'm trying to talk to you, y/n."

A soft hum vibrated against your lips. Placing the book once glued to your chest on the centre table of the room, you faced Azriel once more. The office was cold, as was every chamber built below the main infrastructure of the house, and Azriel wondered how you could be so at home within it.

It was entrancing how a room so dark and full of evil texts and passages could make you look so ethereal. The glossed black hair he had often dreamt of running his fingers through was tied back in a loose thick braid, whisps of hair fell from the vines of it and settled over your eyes. Ornate jewellery twinkled in the pale sunlight, swirls of gold encased your fingers and wrists, and a coiled necklace that resembled a scaled serpent glided around the base of your neck.

"What would you like me to say? I did tell you how to find the first host so that you could destroy it. I don't require updates, Azriel," the movement of your tongue as you said his name for the first time had his resolve withering.

"Well, I suppose we'll have to warm ourselves by the glow of your I told you so."

Then, as though the sun was blessing the earth after eons of slumber, your lips widened into a grin, one big enough to expose your perfectly white teeth and Azriel felt the dark storm clouds in his soul splinter. A golden threat soared through him, reaching out to you and entwining itself with the thread bristling at your centre.

Sculpted fingers drifted over that spot in your chest that had become increasingly hard to ignore and you inhaled sharply. Azriel's pupils had dilated, they were wide and frenzied, and his hand was outstretched to you.

The smile on your face dropped.

"You're my mate," Azriel nodded at the words you had managed to utter, the same ones that had become lodged in his throat.

Heat prickled at his skin, nerves seeped into his bones. You were so unreadable, and Azriel was scrambling his thoughts to clear so that he may be able to figure out how you felt about it. About being fated to be his.

Azriel had learnt from Amren how unaffectionate you were, how much you hated anyone touching you. It was because of the Illyrian camps you had visited in your younger years where they had thought you a witch, and had punished you for it in a barbaric way; the evidence still lingered on your skin in long angry streaks, and Amren had admitted that night is what spurred on your need to understand the roots of evil.

It was understandable, to spend a lifetime studying the one thing that had ever truly hurt you. For what reason, Azriel didn't know, but he liked to think that it was to cause evil to cower in your presence.

Silence shrouded the room like a disease, infecting and poisoning everything in its path, and Azriel way becoming increasingly worried about how your smile had dropped. Was he truly that repulsive to you? He could only ever dream to be mated with someone like you, someone who welcomed death like an old friend and would entertain it in an eons long waltz, someone who was poised and elegant but so brilliantly lethal that it made even him shudder.

Taking an unsettling step toward you, Azriel loosened a breath when he saw that you hadn't retreated, his eyes were trained on you as he took another step, and then another, until his shadow danced with you own, "I'm your mate."

Rhys and Cassian would be mortified of the news, Azriel was sure that Rhys found you terrifying in the same way that Cassian found Bryaxis. No of that mattered though. Not to him. Not when he now belonged to a female as striking and dangerous as the blood in his veins.

A faint blush crept up your cheeks at the proximity, the tendrils connected to his essence peered over his shoulders seemingly apprehensively thrilled that it was you stood before them, "Yes, you are."

Azriel's gaze drifted down to your lips and left dragged back upward to your eyes, "Can I touch you?"

A part of you froze at the desperate question. You hadn't let anyone touch you in years, you couldn't remember the last time you laid with a male or female, you couldn't remember what a simple even felt like. Amren had never even tried to get too close to you let alone anyone else.

In the first vulnerable emotion you had ever let anyone see, you sheepishly nodded, eyes boring into his own and he didn't break his stare as his fingers twitched toward you, ghosting along your skin and melting at the heat they found there. Mindlessly, you shifted when his palm lingered a whisker away from the slope of your neck and his eyes became stitched with concern but softened when you had won the fight against your fear to stand still once more.

Azriel's hand lowered, resting against your skin that was softer than his imagination could ever fathom. His thumb drifted down the column of your throat and you swallowed, hard.

"You don't have to accept this or me," he told you, his voice tantalisingly cooing to you in a hush above a whisper, "But gods, y/n. I really hope that you do."

Azriel saw through you then, through that façade you wore like a medal. And he found what saw to be quite heart-breaking. Stood before him was a woman, one that possessed a brilliant mind and equally captivating beauty, but beneath it all was the girl who was brutalised so badly that she vowed to never allow another person close again.

"You're my mate," you spoke with a certain conviction that hadn't graced your words the last time, Azriel watched your lashes flutter, and he felt his soul singing when those eyes found him again, "I'm not letting you go."

Gracefully, your fingers curled around his wrist, your index finger sleeping just over the faint beat of his pulse, just where his marred flesh faded to memory, "You accept it?"

"I- yes, I do."

Jasmine and sandalwood drowned his lungs, and he would have died happy just to be able to say that he knew what your shampoo smelt like. Papaya and coconuts. He gingerly ran his fingers through your hair, noting how much you loved the feeling of it as you shivered in his arms. Azriel pressed a dainty but tender kiss to your brow, and it had you realising that maybe you were allowed to give yourself this one thing that the younger version of you had always dreamt of.

Azriel hadn't tried to push you further, he knew that the moment of allowing someone to touch you, to hold you, was far more momentous than finding your mate.

Instead he asked you a simple question, it was more of an offering than anything. To spend time together away from the prying eyes of his family, so that you may become comfortable with one another before allowing anyone else into it. You had agreed. Eagerly.

So the next few weeks drifted by, afternoon walks along the Sidra, morning breakfast drop-offs at your office, after hours visits to the gallery where you would tell him of your adventures and how on some occasions you barely survived. Azriel was in complete awe of you, he sat beside you on your love seat completely captivated by you, his fingers tracing small circles into your thighs and his shadows curling through your hair. And that smile, gods, that smile could make even the most poised male lose all sense. It was bright and gleaming, and your skin glowed with the happiness of it.

Then you had decided to break the news to the Inner Circle, and as you stood before those doors oozing with grandeur, you felt nerves pinch at your skin, "Are you ready?" Azriel's fingers were tangled with yours and he bowed his head to place his lips on your bare shoulder.

"Yes." Azriel gave your hand a gentle tug, willing you to move from your spot located just behind him.

The aura of the house had shifted, now, it was inquisitive, glancing to the mirrors and then back to your hands to see if what it was seeing was real. Laughter echoed at the end of the hall, your scent had usually silenced them by now, but not this time. Now that your scent was mixed with Azriel’s it seemed much less threatening. Pity.

Turning the corner, you became startled by the smash of a glass, shards of it glided along the floor and fell at your feet. Looking up, you found Mor frozen in place, wide eyes and bewildered. The rest of the room craned to attention, collectively moving their eyes from Mor, to you, and then to Azriel, and then to your entwined fingers.

It took a minute, but you could have sworn you heard the bell ding in Cassian’s empty brain, “Oh shit,” he rose to his feet, wings flaring slightly as a wide grin gripped his mouth.

Rhys appeared before you both, gaze lowered in surprise, clearly trying to picture a timeline in his mind. The High Lord looked to his Spymaster, “Are you-“

“Mates?” Azriel finished incredulously, knowing that your moulded scents had already infected the room, and turned his head to you, orbs gleaming and adoration speckled on his cheeks, “Yes.”

Elain Archeron had sank into her seat, doing her best to not pay attention to you in particular whilst her stomach churned with the scent seeping into her bones. Subconsciously, you moved closer to Azriel, a slightly territorial action that made him smirk.

It had been a brief conversation that you had suffered through, the one where Azriel had made it very clear that the situation with Elain was brutally one-sided. Azriel had only sought to be nice to her, to help her to adjust to her new body and life because she was Feyre's sister and Feyre was his High Lady, and she had taken his kindness for something much more than what it truly was.

Leading you to the velvet armchair that you would usually slither into, Azriel sat and motioned for you, turning you in his hands so that his touch never left your thighs, and pulled you to his lap. A bashful smile formed on your face and you could feel the eyes of the room on you, equally as confused as shocked.

"Since when?" Nesta had asked after sipping from the goblet of red wine between her fingers, the liquid staining her plump pale lips, and she used her thumb to wipe a singular droplet before it ran down her chin. Her eyes held an emotion you couldn't quite make out, Azriel had admitted that Nesta was just as unreadable as you at times, but the way his digits dug into your flesh told you that what the eldest sister was feeling was an assortment of jealousy. Not toward you, toward him.

"The bond snapped just over a month ago," Nesta hummed and burrowed herself into the cushions, pouting slightly, like she was an infant who had her favourite toy taken from her grasp. "We wanted to explore it before we properly accepted it or told anyone."

That made Elain's doe-like stare move from the floor to your mate who was sat with you on his thighs rubbing small circles into your shoulders, "So you haven't accepted it?"

Your jaw clenched at the question, the question that was perfumed with the last splatters of hope, "If you're asking if we've fucked yet, Elain, then no, we haven't. Does that answer your question?"

Azriel's fingers moved to play with the ends of your hair, knowing that the sensation of slight tugging over your scalp relaxed you infinitely, "I only ask because I know how physical Azriel can be. Surely you've heard the stories?" Elain feigned innocence, Feyre sighed from her seat and glanced to you apologetically, silently begging you to not tear her sister apart.

In fact, you had heard the stories. Trying to ignore the gossip of the city was difficult considering how used you were to eavesdropping into certain conversations in the underworld. So, unfortunately, you had heard about Azriel's many lovers, and you'd be silly to not feel insecure of it, but you wouldn't let her see that. Ever.

Craning your neck to the side, you smiled, your iced gaze slicing into her and making Elain shrink under the weight of it, "With all due respect, which is none," you leaned to the side, accepting the goblet of wine that the house had presented to you in premature thanks for the forthcoming words you were about to utter, "Your existence gives me a headache, so please go and find somewhere else to be."

Rhys' eyes widened but he suppressed the smirk forming on his face, hiding his lips behind his fist and closing his eyes. Not even Feyre or Nesta spoke up over it, they clearly knew better than to challenge you. Cassian however didn't really care if Elain saw his joy at your words, he had been growing more tired each passing day of her pining affection toward his brother, and now he understood why Azriel had withdrawn further from the female over the last few weeks.

It was because of the unique female before their very eyes.

The middle sister went to open her mouth, to retort something that wouldn't even irk you, but Amren shushed her, halted the words in her throat and willed her to die with them, "Don't even try it," Amren served you more than her own court, finding a kindred spirit within you, and she would shame herself if she let Elain speak to you as if you were nothing.

Elain would never understand someone like you. She wasn't worthy of it anyway.

No one had ever tried to understand Amren, not really, they thought her too complicated to be worth it. As long as they brought her pretty jewels and respected her then there was little else to worry of in their eyes. But you, you had understood her instantly and had found a particular solace with her, like you were peering through a mirror and she was your reflection.

Sipping the potent liquid in your goblet, you bowed your head to her, quietly thanking your friend for halting the small spat before it escalated and ruined the evening entirely. Tonight was not about Elain and her fragile feelings, it was about showing the Inner Circle who now owned your heart.

So, the middle sister vacated the room feigning a migraine, and the aura instantly lifted. A soft smile formed on your lips when your eyes landed on your mate, your entire face relaxed; entwining your fingers with his, you blushed when he pressed his lips to your knuckles and dragged your index finger down his cheek.

The Inner Circle watched on, knowing that they had never seen Azriel so taken by anything. They feasted on the sight of his shadows purring through your hair, on your colliding smiles, and how your gentle words to one another were contained in an ornate bubble around your bodies.

As the evening continued, you found yourself quite enjoying their company, you sat bundled into Azriel's embrace, finding comfort in the arms that were wrapped around you whilst Cassian spewed war stories, bragging at his prowess.

"Not to brag," you began with a smirk, "But at least eight men have described me as 'terrifying', and two of them are in this room. Choke on that ego, Cassian."

Nesta's grin turned feline and excitement bubbled in the pit of her stomach. What she wouldn't give to spar with you, to have your legs wound around her and that tense gaze splitting her in half. From the whisperings of Prythian, it was very clear that you had done some rather diabolical things in order to obtain certain artifacts that had been locked away in your most prized and personal collection. So prized that its location was unknown. She could only imagine what trinkets you possessed, and the things you had witnessed.

"What about Azriel?!"

The Shadowsinger shrugged, his hand resting on your thigh and squeezing the flesh there, "I've only ever been entranced by my mate, Cassian," Azriel drawled, sipping the amber liquid swirling in his rocks glass like molten bronze, "It's you and Rhys who are afraid of her."

"If it's any consolation, I don't blame you."

Cassian frowned, turning to Nesta and asking, "Are you scared of her?"

"No," she answered a little too quickly, so quickly that you had quirked your brow at the sound, "I find y/n to be quite exciting."

"Exciting?" Cassian moved to Feyre and asked the same question, his manhood decaying when she too said that you didn't scare her, "Mor?"

The blonde who could not rival your beauty had always watched you from afar, and had always enjoyed how you made males squirm. Mor rose her glass to the stars and stated, "Bring every man you meet to their motherfucking knees, y/n."

"Amen to that," Amren tipped her glass in response, downing the rest of the thick red sap and finally feeling at home in the presence of her family thanks to you, and she eternally thanked the male sat beside you for being able to breathe some light into the storm cloud that was your mind.

"Mother above," Rhys grumbled, the women in his life uniting and itching to wreck havoc. The action of Rhys swiping his hand down his face, dragging the skin slightly toward in frustration, made a deep chuckle float from your lips, so serene that Nesta likened the sound to a siren call and found herself drawn to it. "Did I just make you laugh?" Rolling your eyes, you nodded at the High Lord who turned toward his mate, "This is the best day of my life," then back to you, "Does this mean that we're friends?"

Rhys waited expectantly, childlike orbs pleading to you with their innocence. You had no friends bar Amren and you were content with that. It meant that you only had one thing to lose. But as Azriel laid his hand on the small of your back, gaining your attention and giving you an expression of promise, the resolve of your solitude cracked, "Why not?"

The door to the River House flew open, a sudden shrill chill soaring through the air from the wild winds battering against the city, no doubt spurred on by your fury.

Many months had passed, and in that time you had truly blossomed, sure you still wore the mask of the devil on your features in public, but when you were with the Inner Circle, a group of people you now proudly belonged to, that mask drifted away like ash in the autumn breeze; and when Azriel was beside you, it felt as though warmth and happiness was all that you ever knew.

Much to Elain's upset, you and Azriel had officially accepted the bond and had locked yourselves away for four weeks to make the most out of every single moment together, and Rhys had been understanding enough of the bond between you both to not drag your mate away on another mission. The bond between you and Azriel was something that Rhys had never seen before, not even between him and Feyre.

"She tastes like every dark thought I've ever had."

The ceremony itself had been astonishing.

The women of the Inner Circle had spent the better part of two days dressing your apartment for the occasion and Feyre had made it quite clear that the upcoming ceremony was going to make theirs look ridiculous in comparison. Rhys was split between jealousy and awe when he saw it.

No one had ever stepped into the apartment beside Amren and Azriel, he had decided to move into the apartment after your return from the four-week sabbatical at the cabin, it was as though you were gifting them with the last part of you, allowing them to see what they could never fathom.

Faelights were strewn across the ceiling, curling around the arched windows that displayed the golden valley of the city in a way Rhys had never been able to appreciate before; tucked between the vines of the lights was fresh foliage, an array of green hue ferns caressing fully blossomed white roses and pale blue peonies. Sprigs of cedar and rosemary had been wove between the foliage and flowers alongside splinters of sandalwood, filling the room with the physical aspects of your scents.

Only the Inner Circle had been invited, and as you were dressing in your room with Amren, you could hear Nesta whining of her foolish jealousy of having to watch Azriel marry you. Amren had simply raised a brow and smirked at you through the mirror as she finished securing your veil to the back of your head.

There was no one you would want to share the moment with other than her.

Amren had blindfolded you, leading you through the home so that the gift wouldn't be ruined just so that you could get ready together, for the most important and deserving night of your life.

The dress that you had meticulously chosen was the most incredible garment Amren had ever seen, so much so that the first time you had tried it on in front of her, she had nearly cried at the beauty of it; and there you now stood, twisting in the mirror and running your hands down the hem of your veil and then your hips. The dress was made entirely of white lace that you had imported from the Day Court, an off-the-shoulder neckline and sleeves that kissed your wrists, it was elegant and graceful, and made the freckles of your trauma glow like shooting stars.

A gentle knock had sounded at the door and Rhys stepped in, taking one look at you and finding his breath catching in his throat. "You look amazing," he breathed, approaching you with his hands deep within his pockets.

The High Lord had been honoured when you had sheepishly asked him to walk you down the aisle; Rhys had found himself consumed with the need to protect you, after seeing your guard disappear, he saw who you truly were, a woman who just wanted to be loved and protected, and ready to allow other people to do it for her after spending so long doing it herself.

"Are you ready?" Inhaling deeply, you nodded and turned to him, noting the outstretched hand before you and feeling your usual anxiety bubbling in your gut. Rhys, realising that he shouldn't have done something so bold, went to retreat but halted when you took a small step toward him, reaching your fingers out to his palm and sliding them into his grasp.

Azriel was right, your skin was a smooth as honey.

A gentle smile of triumph later, you spoke, "I'm ready."

It was that moment that Rhys was begging you to remember as you barrelled through his house, no doubt heading straight for him in the confinements of his office.

He could feel your anger slam through the walls, your footsteps sounding up the staircase and stopping at the top of the hall, a pause to remember just how much you liked him before stalking down the hall and bursting into his office. Rhys cringed, knowing what was coming as you strode to his desk and slapped your palms flat against the wood.

"If you ever," you pointed your perfectly manicured finger in his face, "Send my mate back to me in that state again. I. Will. Destroy. You."

The snarl of your words sent a shiver coursing down his spine, and in that moment you were the y/n he had met one-hundred years ago. Cold. Distant. Almost demonic.

In his defence, he hadn't sent Azriel on an overly dangerous mission, it wasn't his fault that his Spymaster was ambushed in The Middle. Azriel's spilled blood was entirely his own fault in Rhys' eyes, "I didn't mean for him to get hurt, y/n."

The rushed footsteps of another sounded in the hall, and when Rhys looked past your deeply heaving form, he was relieved beyond compare when he saw a bruised Azriel approaching, "Angel, it wasn't his fault. I was distracted," his voice grew louder as he paced closer to the pair of you, appearing at your side and turning your head in his fingers to face him, "I was thinking about you and I didn't hear them coming."

Watching your shoulders drop, Rhys sighed and wiped away an invisible bead of sweat from his brow, sitting back down and continuing his viewing just as you tilted your head to the side and popped out your bottom lip.

"You were?" Azriel's eyes softened and he dipped his gaze to meet yours, "That's the most romantic thing you've ever done. You were attacked because you were thinking about me, you actually bled because you were thinking about me?"

Rhys could only watch on perplexed at your words, you threw yourself into Azriel's arms, muttering small apologies for brushing against the bruises littering his abdomen, "She's crazy."

The Shadowsinger could only huff, too entrapped by you to really reprimand him, "Yeah," his eyes opened lazily, brimming with exhaustion, "But she's my crazy."

Azriel's shadows curled over your shoulders and shuddered, crying to be as close to you as possible, like they were trying to entwine with your soul so that you one day may carry them with you wherever you walked. In whatever world.

A bond like yours was made to topple temples and shatter worlds, it was made to transcend time and space; and as you wrapped an arm around your mate and led him from the office, not without sending one more warning glare to the male you had come to love as a brother, Rhys knew that no matter where either of you went, there would be no place that you could travel to where the other would not follow.

Author’s Note

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@romantasyreader28

[inkdrinkerworld]

For the Halloween thing, 14 with Remus Lupin 💖

Autumn is in full swing when Remus asks you out. You’d both been tiptoeing around your affection for each other for months, and as the cold swept in, Remus found his courage.

You’re walking around Cardiff, the leaves orange and yellow and falling off the trees.

Remus had taken you to the national museum there, then to a cafe where you’d gotten a hot chocolate and a slice of walnut cake. Remus had gotten a hot, black coffee and an extra slice of walnut cake for ‘himself.’

He’s walking you back home, more than a little mesmerized by you and the way frost comes from every word you say.

“What did you think of the woolly mammoth? Do you really think they existed?” You turn to Remus as you ask the question, your eyes round with wonder as you take a sip of your hot chocolate.

Remus weighs his answer, “I think they may have, I have doubts about their tusks being the real deal though.”

You smile, “So do I! They’re ivory just like elephants so I think we’d have harvested them all before they went extinct.”

Remus takes a sip of his coffee to hide the smile that wants to split his face at your excitement.

You go off on a little tangent, talking about the animals of old and how you think they died before the Ice Age, your hand moving wildly as if to punctuate your excitement.

By the time you reach your doorstep, your cheeks are cold and your body is buzzing with happiness.

Remus feels the same.

“I had a really lovely time,” Remus says softly, eyes holding your own as you stand on your top step to be just taller than him.

“So did I. You’re very welcome company, Remus.” He smiles this time, his scar glinting a little under the sun.

Before he can say anything, a couple leaves fall from the tree on the pavement, tangling themselves in his hair.

“Oh.” You gasp, walking a little closer to him. “You have a leaf in your hair,” your hand reaches up slowly in case he doesn’t want you to touch him.

When Remus doesn’t move, more from fondness that’s melted and mixed with adoration, you pluck the leaves from his sandy hair.

“There,” you smile as you hold the leaf up, a pretty auburn colour that goes with his sweater.

If Remus wasn’t smitten before, he is now. His heart all warm as you show him the leaf.

“Thanks dove,” he kisses your knuckles, reveling in the way your breath hitches. “Maybe we can meet next week to watch that movie you’re looking forward to.”

You nod, “I’d love that. Thanks for walking me home, Rem.”

Like he’d ever miss the chance to prolong your date.

[hometoursandotherstuff]

What in the world is happening here? Beautiful, historic 1800 farmhouse in Perkiomenville, PA was restored by the current owner. Some interesting design choices were incorporated into this wonderful piece of history. It has 4bds, 2ba, 9.33 acres of land, and they're asking $795K. Take a look at what they've done.

Now, as anyone familiar with American History knows, the slide was an efficient replacement for stairs in early 1800 farmhouses. It was higher at the bottom so a stool could be placed underneath, next to a cow ready to be milked.

I appreciate that they left the floors and this wonderful fireplace. Why, though, do clean, straight walls look so out of place? What would look better? Maybe some texture?

Lovely. The big old pot over the fire.

They stood a vintage statue of St. Francis, the patron saint of animals, in the fireplace. Not exactly the place of honor one would expect.

The living room is very large and has a new fireplace. Lovely original stone peeks out of the drywall like wainscoting.

They put in a modern kitchen, although it looks like an island is missing. The pots are just dangling in the middle of the ceiling.

Family room. In order to sell any home, you must include at least one stylish griege room.

Plus a vintage/modern bath combo. Don't forget the gray walls.

I have no idea what's going on in here. It's a large bedroom with Buzz Lightyear running on air near the ceiling and some weird wiring for the chandelier.

In 1889, after the Eiffel Tower was built, it was every farm girl's dream to visit Paris. So prevalent was this, that the late actress/singer Judy Garland released the song "How You Gonna Keep 'Em Down on the Farm, After They've Seen Paree?" in 1919. Hence, this symbolic shower curtain.

The primary bedroom has fabric draped over the beams to create a romantic retreat, clearly inspired by the new dating show sensation, "The Farmer Wants a Wife" featuring hunky young farmers.

Some work was begun in this area.

Lots of wires, here.

The property is beautiful. Is that a little smokehouse?

Look at this wonderful barn that needs to be saved.

I don't know what's going on, but this property is a living museum and it looks like there's been some demo. Wait a minute, is that the top of a tower in the right corner?

Woah, talking about demo, everything here has been wiped out. The devastation.

It's a beautiful piece of property- the Perkiomen Creek runs alongside the 9.33 acre farm.

https://www.zillow.com/homedetails/10-Walnut-Ln-Perkiomenville-PA-18074/9946795_zpid/?

[bedbellyandbeyond]

Check In On Your Friends

(Story Post)

“Hej mine kære venner! Jeg kommer med gaver!”

Theo was lounging in bed when he heard the elf raucously burst into his apartment. He was tired, hungry, irritated, and now bigger than he could’ve imagined. The last thing he needed was noise, but he was a bit surprised to hear Korsy was back from his trip.

“What?” Theo groaned, turning over to try and sit up. His stomach stuck out like a torpedo now and sat between his legs, webbed with stretch marks and red from minor rashes.

Henderson let the elf into the room and Korsy beamed, carrying a shopping bag with him. “I said ‘Hello, my dear friends! I come bearing gifts!’”

“Ah…” Theo yawned and waved Henderson over. “Do I have any snacks left?”

Henderson was already prepared and brought him a plate of crackers and fruit. “I just got some groceries today.”

Theo received the plate delightedly while Henderson sat down beside him. “Merci… Ugh, what would I do without you…”

“Shit, dude. Can you even get up with that much baby?” Korsy commented, unable to fathom his friend’s shape.

“Not really…” Theo shrugged. “I’m officially on bed rest.”

“No kidding.” Korsy put his hands on his hips in bewilderment. “Shouldn’t you be on, like, hospital bed rest?”

Theo sighed. “That’s what the doctor’s office said, but now both my usual doctors are away for whatever reason, and there’s just this one doctor there now, who I’ve heard is a whack job, so I would rather stay home. Non, merci.”

“Ah, Dr Gardi’s not bad. But I see your point.” Korsy lifted his bag. “Anyway, souvenirs for you.”

“No way it’s been two months…” Theo said, checking his side table alarm clock for the date.

“No, we had to come back a little early, but I’m leaving again tomorrow morning,” Korsy said as he started rummaging through his bag. “Anyway, I can’t give you all the details, but I did go ‘home’ and I ‘borrowed’ a few things. Catch.”

Henderson jumped a little when a metal object was tossed to him. He caught it and realised it was a gold bracelet of some kind. “What’s this?”

“Sun elf bangle. Drow probably stole it. So, eh. Yours now.”

Henderson was shocked at first as the moment he slipped the bangle on, it adjusted to the size of his wrist. Worried it might be stuck, he pulled at it, but lit up seeing it resize again and slip off easily. “…Whoa. That’s incredible. Theo, look! It fits me so well!”

“It does,” Theo complimented. “It suits you.”

Henderson beamed. “Thanks, Korsy.”

“Don’t mention it. My uncle’s wife doesn’t need it anyway.” Korsy pulled something else from his bag, but this time handed it nicely to Theo. “For you.”

Korsy had handed him a little figure of an elven soldier carved in walnut with silver details. It carried a bow and looked noble. “That’s sweet, Korsy! Wow,” Theo said, admiring the figure. “Thanks.”

“Also, here.” Korsy handed them each something bundled in paper. “My aunt made these traditional elven buns.”

Theo put the figure down quickly so he could take the buns. “Oh, I can smell it already! I love fresh bread.”

“So, she’s you ‘aunt’ now?” Henderson questioned. “After calling her your uncle’s wife…”

“Different women, same uncle.” Korsy shrugged. “Divorce is weird… Karla’s still my aunt though, even if not by marriage.”

“So, why’d you have to come home early?” Theo asked before biting into his bun.

“That’s classified…” Korsy leaned against the bedroom door and sighed. “You guys should really consider some APID jobs. It’d be so much easier to talk to you about this kind of stuff if you have clearance.”

“Working on it,” Henderson said, and Theo nodded but he couldn’t speak through mouthfuls of bread. “Since you’re back briefly, have you checked in on your little…situationship?”

“It’s not a situationship. We’re just friends,” Korsy said. “And no, I don’t think I should bother him right now. I don’t have a lot of time anyway.”

“You made time for us,” Theo pointed out. “I thought you cared about this guy.”

“I don’t! I mean, I do, like friends,” Korsy tried to answer. “It’s just too complicated. He knows I’m away for two months, so he won’t be missing anything.”

Theo and Henderson both exchanged looks and frowned.

“You have feelings for him,” Henderson said.

Theo nodded along. “You like him.”

Korsy shook his head quickly. “Don’t make this something it’s not. I don’t like him like that. And I know he doesn’t see me that way.”

“Mmhm.” Henderson gave his gift bun to Theo and got up. “Korsy, are you looking for a romantic relationship?”

“No, I don’t do relationships,” Korsy said confidently.

“Why not? Are you aromantic?” Henderson asked.

“Ooh!” Theo got excited. “I’ve never known anyone aromantic before.”

“Guys, I’m not aromantic!” Korsy said. “I just don’t have time for that right now. My job is too important, and it doesn’t have room for settling down and having kids.”

“Aw, you want kids?” Theo cooed.

“That’s not what I’m saying!”

“You’re the one who brought it up,” Henderson pointed out.

“Wait, is this the same guy you had a pregnancy scare with?” Theo asked. “Oh, so that whole thing has you worried about your future and fatherhood and stuff. Je comprends.”

“You don’t comprends shit,” Korsy said.

Theo furrowed his brow and motioned to his heavily pregnant belly. “Je comprends.”

Henderson chuckled and wrapped his arms around Theo’s torso to rub his belly. He continued with Korsy’s dilemma. “Anyway, you say your job doesn’t have room for that, but I feel like you’re giving it too much credit. Does APID not provide time regular time off?”

Korsy sighed. “It does, but—”

“Does it not provide vacation time?” Henderson continued.

“Yes. Obviously.”

“Do you use your vacation time?”

“Um…” Korsy shrugged. “Here and there.”

Theo jumped in. “Does APID provide paternity leave and partner benefits?”

“Yes. It’s the government,” Korsy said. He motioned to them. “We have the same benefits. But I’m away all the time for months, and I am often putting myself in harms way. I don’t need to subject a partner to that.”

“You know there are people who are comfortable with that, right?” Henderson reminded. “You know, military spouses and such.”

“That’s their choice, but it’s not what I would want for a partner,” Korsy said. “I’m not ready to put that on someone.”

“But it sounds like you do want that at some point,” Theo said. “If not now.”

“It’s not something I can want, okay?” Korsy was starting to get worked up. “Can we move on from this? Please, I just wanted to drop off gifts and hang out a little bit.”

Theo sighed. “Okay. Do you want to play some games or something? I just got Baldur’s Gate 3.”

Korsy frowned. “The D&D video game?”

“Yeah. You wanna make a character or something?”

Korsy rolled his eyes. “And be what, a drow elf rogue?”

Henderson shrugged. “You don’t have to be.”

Korsy opened his arms. “You know how I feel about D&D.”

“Ah, right, sorry…” Theo tilted his head. “So… You wanna play Tears of the Kingdom or Mortal Kombat or someth—”

Korsy crossed his arms. “No, let’s play Baldur’s Gate I guess.”

Theo grinned. “Really? You won't be offended?”

Korsy shrugged and found himself a seat on the edge of the bed. “Well, I have to try it out to see how bad the representation is, don't I? And, is that a PS5? I haven't tried one yet.”

“Oh, you definitely have to try it,” Henderson encouraged.

“Yeah, here.” Theo tapped his side table. “My controllers are in the drawer.”

Korsy retrieved a controller. “Alright, nice. So, are drow good or bad?”

“Eh, it depends.”

“Hm. Alright, so how do I make a drow rogue?”

“We said you don't have to be a drow rogue...”

“I want to.”

“D’accord, d’accord…”

[Disclaimer: This author does not know Danish. If you do and this is bad, lemme know! I'd love to fix it. I do know French, but if somehow that's fucked too, lemme know.]

[ofstarsandvibranium]

since you’re taking requests can you do a roy x tartt!reader, like jamie is readers younger brother and is super protective even though he’s the younger one? maybe roy didn’t realize that reader was jamie’s sister since they’re so different, idk your writing is immaculate so i’m sure anything to come up with will be great <3

(thank you so much! hope you like this!)

"So...are you nervous?" you ask Roy as you and he walk up to Ola's, the place where you'll be having dinner as well as the place where Roy will be meeting your brother.

Roy scoffs, "Fuck no. But you seem to be," he says, smirking at you.

"Maybe a little," Roy cocks a brow at you and you switch it up, "Okay, yes, a lot. Can you blame me? I haven't introduced a boyfriend to my brother is ages! And he may be younger than me, but he's incredibly protective of me. So don't let him get to you if he becomes too much."

Roy scoffs again, "I think I'll be fine." He opens the door to Ola's, gesturing you to go first. When you do, you immediately rush over into the arms of a man. When Roy follows you, he stops. He knows that head of blonde walnut mist hair. The man pulls away and, "Oh fuck off!" Roy yells at none other than Jamie Tartt.

You immediately turn to your boyfriend, "Roy!"

Jamie's brows furrow and then his eyes widen, "Wait, no. You-He-You're dating grandad?!"

"Your brother's this twat?!"

"You guys know each other?!" you look at the men with an equal amount of disbelief.

Jamie shakes his head, "Hold on. How did you not know that we know each other?" he asks you in confusion.

"Roy said he coached football. He didn't tell me it was for Richmond!"

Jamie then turns to Roy, "And how did you not know that she's me sister?!"

"You don't look alike and you don't share the same last name!"

"Well, we're adopted sib-"

"And she always referred to you as Jam Jam!"

You get in-between the two men, "Alright, let's just calm down. Let's sit and order a round of drinks because we clearly need it."

Roy and Jamie nod, glaring at each other as they join you at the table.

After ordering some appetizers and sipping on your drinks, you clear your throat, "Alright. So there clearly needs to be some clarification here."

You gesture to yourself, "To explain myself, yes, Jamie, I only referred to you as Jam Jam when talking to Roy because I don't like name dropping you in case people want to get close to me just because we're family. And Roy never really disclosed specifics about his job. Also, you know I never really cared much about football because of him. Mummy would only just update me about if your team won or lost."

Jamie is leaning back in his chair, arms crossed over his chest and pouting like a child, "It's just fuckin' weird. You're dating grandad! He's me coach and trainer!"

"I didn't know that, Jamie," you emphasize, "Besides, I really like him," you reach over and rest your hand on Roy's, "Can't you be happy for me?"

"Fine," he mumbles and then sits up, "You're me sister and I love you, so I'll approve of," he waves his hand over you and Roy, "this."

"She wasn't asking for your permission, you twat," Roy rasps out.

"Whatever," Jamie shrugs, "But if you hurt her, I'll-"

"You'll what?" Roys asks, egging Jamie on, "She's her own person. A grown ass woman. She can handle herself. Besides," he laces his fingers through yours, "I don't plan on hurting her any time soon. I feel lucky to be the man she chose to date."

You look between your brother and boyfriend, giving a satisfied nod, "Great. Glad we've got that sorted out!"

[1d1195]

Time Extra I

Read Time here

This was one of the first stories I wrote when I came back from my hiatus a couple years ago. I thought about it every day for years when I was really not feeling my best and finally put it on paper. There are, what I think, some pretty intense trigger warnings on the other parts of the series--it's pretty different than my other happy fluffy writing. This is not going to be too sad though--there is a vague mention of the previous parts so read with caution but it won't be anything vivid. It's fluffy stuff based on this ask.

~2.6k words

I hope you like it :)

Everything was completely perfect. After so many years of feeling distraught and lost, Harry thought it was a miracle—no, that she was a miracle—that he could feel so happy, so complete.

Which was why it was terrifying to imagine that he could ruin it all.

Over the two years since they reunited, they didn’t talk much about the actual day once they moved past it. She would hear from her ex-fiancé’s family now and again. She would run into them at the store or something. Most were pretty kind to her overall, but she could feel the contempt in their voices. It didn’t bother her completely—it was just frustrating that she knew they would neverunderstand.

Harry still went to his regularly scheduled therapy appointment. She did as well. They both worked, they both lived together, everything was easy. They danced in the kitchen and watched Niall play his guitar at open mic nights.

Everything was completely perfect. After so many years of feeling distraught and lost, Harry thought it was a miracle—no, that she was a miracle—that he could feel so happy, so complete.

Which was why it was terrifying to imagine that he could ruin it all.

There was a plan. A big to do. He was going to have her family, his family, their friends all in the same place. He was going to tell her how much he loved her and that he never wanted to be away from her ever. The way time had separated them only to bring them back together had to mean something.

Harry was terrified.

Maybe it was just some sort of savior’s complex. She always said he saved her that day. He didn’t see how it was possible. There was no saving he did. He did the drowning, he ruined her day, he made her pass out, he made her scared and feel sick to her stomach.

Sometimes, when Harry was having a bad day, he would think about what her life would be like if he hadn’t called her. He imagined it would be very much the same as it was with him, but she would maybe have a baby to take care of by then. She would make dinner for her husband. There would be a pile of laundry to fold on the sofa and a new episode of her show playing on the TV. It would be normal.

But it was normal in their lives as well.

There were days they argued—nothing major, but the world didn’t end the way Harry thought it would. She slept soundly beside him and reached blindly for him if they separated at night. Her baking skills never ceased to amaze him. On days that he didn’t even realize he was struggling a little more than others, he arrived home to his favorite chocolate chip cookies (the ones that she put walnuts in because she knew Harry loved them) or those fudgy brownies that he could only eat one or he would get a stomachache. But they made him feel whole. Cared for.

She was there.

So of course, when he asked her to marry him it had to be perfect. It had to be special. It needed to be the most perfect moment of her life. The people who loved and adored her needed to be there and see how much Harry adored her. Very few people knew what happened that day. Most only knew that she found Harry again. They fell in love again—or as she liked to point out—they remembered they were in love.

Harry had stayed home unbeknownst to her. The final details of the plan needed to be taken care of and he was nothing if not thorough. As far as she knew, they were having a date night when she got home from work. Nothing out of the ordinary. Nothing that would set off some kind of alarm or spoil the surprise.

Harry was reading the speech he had on his phone—it had been memorized for over a year. He just needed to get the details in order. When she moved in, it felt so right. Part of him wished he had asked her right then.

You wanted red roses or pink ones? Niall texted.

Both.

Aren’t you a regular Casanova.

Proposing in front of everyone they knew seemed a little crazy now. Harry had left the restaurant after seeing the set-up, the little private table that would keep them out of sight of those waiting for her response. Now it was waiting. Waiting for her to get home, they would get ready, they would drive to the restaurant as boyfriend and girlfriend and hopefully return as an engaged couple.

Harry felt dizzy. If he messed up and it was less than perfect, less than what she deserved, he would lose his mind. She was his angel. Every single day. Each day he saw her and spoke to her. There was nothing, no one, more important than her. For a few moments he sat on the couch, his head tilted toward the ceiling, and he took those deep breaths that his therapist instructed him to take when he was feeling overwhelmed.

He thought about the first time he did them and she looked at him curiously when he turned his attention back to the show they were watching. “Are you alright?” She asked.

He felt embarrassed. “When m’feeling overwhelmed, m’therapist told me how t’breathe—”

She blinked. “Oh,” she interrupted. “Are you feeling overwhelmed about something I can help with?” She asked.

Of course she asked. The kindness that emanated from her was overwhelming in itself. “No, sometimes m’jus’ a little...” he shrugged.

She nodded understandingly. “I get that way too. Can you teach me?” She asked.

“Kitten,” he chuckled with a shake of his head. “M’sure y’know how t’do the deep breathing exercises.”

“Every doctor is different,” she shrugged. “Tell me,” she encouraged.

He knew she was trying to help bond with him over something she didn’t need to. Another way she could help take care of his addled brain. It was so sweet. He talked her through the steps, feeling awkward that he was explaining how to breathe to a professional that did this with her own patients every day.

“It’s supposed t’feel like a balloon is being inflated in your ribs,” he explained the metaphor his own doctor used with him.

“Oh, I like that,” she mumbled adding it to the back of her mind as she followed his instructions. “I’m sorry you’re feeling overwhelmed, baby,” she cooed softly, stroking his hair behind his ear. “Do you want tea or something?”

Harry smiled at the memory, eyes closed, face toward the ceiling. He heard the door open and in walked the angel. Her phone pressed to her ear, while she tilted her head to the side. Once she set her bag down, held the phone in her hand, she shook her head.

But when she made eye contact, she smiled at Harry, mouthing hi, and blowing a kiss with her free hand. Harry thought his heart would explode. “Mom, I just got home, and I’ve had a really long day,” she explained. “Can I call you tomorrow?” She asked. “Great. Love you too, bye.”

She put her phone on the counter and sighed deeply. “Every time I leave this apartment, I’m reminded why I never want to leave,” she grumbled.

Harry chuckled. “Everything okay with your mum?”

She nodded. “Fine, just going on and on about nonsense,” she rolled her eyes. “She’s meeting my sister for dinner and my sister did not offer to drive. It makes me immensely angry.”

“I see,” he frowned. “Where are they going?” He asked, wondering how much of the surprise her mum may have let slip.

“She didn’t say. I don’t care. It’s not like I can go drive her and pick her up myself,” she rubbed her forehead. “I’m sorry. I had a tough day with some tough patients and I’m letting it dip into our date night,” the frustration on her face disappeared at the word date and a smile replaced it. “I’m looking forward to dinner and especially dessert. They have lava cake,” she said knowingly.

Harry already knew that of course. He was sure to tell the hostess that she would want one. “I know, kitten,” he smiled. It pained him to say the next sentence, but he had to. It wasn’t fair to her frustrated. “Y’know... if you’re not feeling well, we could stay in and—”

“Absolutely not,” she shook her head fiercely. “I just need to change and touch up my makeup. I need a nice date night,” she leaned over the couch, kissed him squarely on the mouth and then headed toward the bedroom.

Harry smirked, feeling at ease for a moment and listening to the sound of her hum as she fixed herself up for the night. His heart started pounding as the minutes ticked by. In less than three hours he would have a fiancée.

Or so he hoped.

The thought of her saying no hadn’t really occurred to him. They lived together, they loved each other, it seemed like a natural step in the relationship.

Right?

Suddenly the thoughts of inadequacy rushed through him and stuck to every crevice of his brain. Every thought was plagued with the notion of shortcomings. He wasn’t good enough for her. There were all the thoughts of her being trapped with him for nothing but ruining her original wedding day.

Maybe she didn’t even want to be married again. Maybe reliving the memory of the first time she tried getting married was something she never wanted to experience again. The idea that he would bring it up and make her sad made him nauseous.

“What time is our reservation?” She called.

“Six,” he cleared his throat trying to push the emotion out of his voice and mind, but it was next to impossible.

They would leave in twenty minutes.

She would say yes. Save him embarrassment. Wait to talk with him in private. They wouldn’t get married. She would move out. There wouldn't be a them anymore. Harry would—

“Do you think they’ll have bread?” Her voice was closer, Harry could hear her heels on the floor of the apartment echoing closer to him. “Or should I have a snack?” Her fingers were fiddling with the earring on her left ear then she opened the fridge to look inside, scanning the contents of leftovers, and cheese bites that she kept for emergencies such as the current one. “Are you hungry at all?” Harry’s stomach hurt so much but it wasn’t from hunger. She didn’t look at him to ask the question, focusing on the snacks too much to notice that he had left the couch. “I’m honestly starving—”

“Will you marry me?”

The room seemed to freeze. The moment of time suspended for who knew how long. Slowly, she half-closed the fridge door to get a visual of her boyfriend in front of her. Her dress was unzipped—she intended for Harry to zip her up once she found a suitable snack. Only one earring was in her ear. The bobby pin she had pinched between her teeth muffled her voice just a bit.

Harry was on the floor. Knelt all but two feet away from her, a little velvet box held out to her in his shaky hands, making the sparkling diamond twinkle in the kitchen light. The bobby pin fell from her lips and sounded like a bookshelf had fallen on the floor in contrast to the quietness of the moment.

“Harry,” she whispered.

“I’m sorry,” he croaked, closing his eyes tightly to try and will the tears away. “I have this huge thing planned. All our friends and family are going t’be at the restaurant. It was supposed t’be a surprise because y’deserve everyone y’know and love t’be there but m’realizing y’might say no. Y’might—”

“Harry,” she repeated, her voice so gentle, but there was the sound of disapproval evident in just the tone of her voice.

“—not want t’get married. Not after last time. Maybe not t’me. M’sorry. I wanted it t’be perfect,” he whispered. “I had a whole speech planned ‘bout how much I love and adore you. How you’re m’favorite person on this earth and how I feel so completely safe and cared for and I want t’do that for you for the rest of our lives,” he paraphrased the monologue that he had memorized ages ago but suddenly couldn’t remember a word of it. “But you’ve had a long day and m’not going t’make it any easier asking in front of all of them if y’want t’say no. So, I have t’do it now. Will you marry me?” He repeated.

Her lips were parted just slightly. Her eyes shiny and beautiful. God, she never looked so beautiful. “Harry,” her voice was soft.

“If s’a no,” his voice cracked. “M’gonna say you’re sick. That I can’t in good conscience let y’go out when y’don’t feel well.”

“Harry Styles,” she whispered, a shake of her head. “Yes, isn’t an adequate enough word for what I want to say to you,” she promised.

His head snapped up again, he hadn’t realized he wasn’t looking at her while he rambled, terrified to see the rejection on her face. But that wasn’t rejection. Yes, he realized, wasn’t a word that meant rejection.

“You said yes,” he murmured.

“Did you honestly think I would say no?”

It was silent again. Like time suspended once more, he tried to remember if time was necessary to breathe. If there was something he was supposed to do or say. It took him that moment to realize he was memorizing every detail. Every skin cell on her pretty face, the way the air smelled, how the chill from the fridge was giving him goosebumps.

Without noticing it happened, he was standing. Harry’s face was in her neck, his arms around her waist and his nose inhaling her sweet scent. His eyes watered and he swallowed hard as he shook his head against her skin. “I love you,” he whispered.

“I love you, Harry,” she giggled, teary as well. Her arms around him just as tightly and she kissed the side of his head buried in her neck.

He wasn’t sure how long he stayed in her embrace, but she didn’t rush him. Eventually he pulled away from her. He grabbed the ring out of its cushion, dropping the little box to the floor beside her bobby pin, and slipped it on her fourth finger. She looked at it briefly. She had seen a diamond on that finger before but looking at this one now, the other one looked terrible in comparison. It wasn’t right.

This was right.

“I have t’take it back,” he whispered.

She smiled and nodded. “I know.”

“I’m sorry. I’ll never do it again.”

“Can’t believe you thought I would say no,” she giggled.

He rolled his eyes. “You are so perfect, kitten. M’so in love with you. If something isn’t perfect for you...” he shook his head. “You deserve perfect.”

“I hope you know,” she wiggled her ring finger in front of his eyes. “That means you,” she promised.

This relieved, happy expression crossed his face and he felt so overwhelmed with happiness that he thought he would cry. “How much time do we have before we need t'leave?” He murmured to himself looking at the stove clock.

“Forever,” she shook her head with a smile. Cupped his face and leaned in for his sweet, pink lips. “We have all the time in the world.”

--

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If you like this, check out my masterlist for more of my writing.

[cosmictap]

The Ghosts playing CO-OP Stardew Valley

A 100% canon list (says me and me alone)

Logan’s in the mines the day it opens and never leaves again (only to sleep), argues with the others about going to the festivals because that means a days gone by where he’s not in the mines (I haven’t tried to avoid the festivals but if it’s one that can’t be avoided he will only go to them on accident, because he forgot it was a festival day and tried to go to pierre’s or smth), hates fishing, doesn’t have the patience for it and gets too frustrated when it goes wrong. Often forgets to talk to people, but when he does, it’s mostly only with Abigail, who he romances on literally every save he has

Hesh is almost the complete opposite to Logan, *loves* the festivals, will happily go into the mines but does a lot of early game fishing for their money income + for the community centre, has watered half the plants before Logan actually comes out of his house. Romances Alex, likes the character arc he goes through w/ the male farmer

Ajax loves taking it slow, just a casual farming sim. This is until the skull caverns get unlocked, he *thrives* in them, doesn’t care much for fishing, will leave that to Hesh, rarely ever even goes to the beach unless he needs to to talk to someone (Elliot, Willy, Haley and Alex in the summer). I feel like he’d romance either Haley or Alex, Haley if playing with Hesh, and whoever he gets the hearts with sooner in his single player saves

Keegan takes it slowly the entire play through, his logic is that he’s so stressed in real life, his pixelated character deserves some rest, even if he can’t get it. Loves fishing, but he’s fucking *awful* at it, has never caught a single fish in SDV ever. Romances Sebastian because he’s emo… /j

Kick had a certain chaotic energy about him I feel would make early game a struggle to get through, but the second ginger island is unlocked he spends whole days there, and once the island farm is fixed, he sleeps there too, thrives off hunting for golden walnuts, will yell at someone if they try to cheat their way through it (either by looking up where they are or by using that parrot thing), rarely actually buys anything unless asked to. Dates multiple people, never marries though.

Merrick doesn’t play too often, he’s a busy man after all, but when they can find a clear day in his schedule? He loves the social aspect, will happily hunt around looking for every npc everyday, refuses to get the NPC map locations mod despite everyone telling him it make his days easier trying to find everyone. The change of seasons throws him off because peoples schedules change and he has to figure it out again.

I wrote this at 5:20 so please excuse any potential strange phrasing…

[unbranded-chaos]

are

you going

to eat

that crazy food?

can i please

have some of

it too?

oh i hope

that it

does not

give you indigestion

that

was once

a

true phantasy of mine.

———

SHUCKS ITS FUSSING BONKERS AT THE FARMERS MARKET

WE DROVE THE GOSH DANG JEEP AND THERES NO PLACE TO PARK IT

WHAT THE FUSS

CUSS

CHECK OUT THAT

LAZY

DUDE WITH ALL THAT

CRAZY FOOD

Handing ample samples out to known customers

Fussing find thag punk if shucks ever gets dire gosh dang he���s superman!

who the hecks his supplier?

RAPUNZEL RAPUNZEL LET DOWN YOUR SPAGHETTI

seriously though

he’s packing chow like confetti?

READY?

shucks uhm

Allspice, amaranth, artichoke, acai Banana, barley, basil, bay leaves, bok choi chai Seitan pot pie, marbled rye Bedhi’d black eyed peas, bing cherries Chioggia beets, hold the meats, gooseberries Cayenne chestnut, chia, coconut, custard Dahlia dates, saffron, dijon mustard (YOU’RE FLUSTERED!!!!) Durian, curry, kale, kasava Clove, eggplant, flax, demitasse, kava Garlic, kumquat, lychee, oca root Jalapeños, garbanzos, starfruit, snakefruit Lavender, lime, karela, kohlrabi Juniper, jak, wakame, wasabi Papaya, papalo, marigold, mango Oregano, sake, lemon, luo han guo, Kiwi, catnip, carolina reaper, Egusi, icaco(why cant this be cheaper??), Poppies, asparagus, Queen Anne’s carrots Broccoli, a gac,

and thatsll take care of us

YOU HAVE MORE???

WHERE FOURTH DOES THOUST OBTAIN SUCH CRAZY FOOD THOU CRAZY FUSS????

COLLARD GREENS BUTTER BEANS VANILLA

POMEGRANATE PINEAPPLE SARSAPARILLA

RAMBUTAN DRAGONFRUIT TAPIOCA

ATEMOYA AKEBIA ROSE MOCHA

AMANITA MUSCARIA CHIVE POTATOES

WATERCRESS SPROUTS QUINOA TOMATOES

PARSLEY SAGE ROSEMARY

Almost seems like this should be illegal.

(Will these even FIT in the veichle???)

…

…

WATERMELON MARIJUANA RHUBARB

TAMARIND TARRAGON TURNIP SWISS CHARD

BLUEBERRY CARAWAY FENNEL CACAO

BOYSENBERRY CUMIN CANTALOUPE (😨)

CELERY SESAME YAM ANISE ZENIA

KOLAS GRANOLAS MARCONAS GARDENIAS

LENTIL CABBAGE VITAL WHEAT GLUTEN WIENER

GHOST PEPPER MUENSTER GEWURZTRAMINER

APPLE FIG PEAR PEACH

PINE HAZEL WALNUT BEECH

SPELT MILLET TEFF TARO

SHALLOT GINGER MACA FARRO

YARROW KALENDULA KOMBU CHLORELLA

CILANTRO PECAN CITRON PORTOBELLA

PUMPKIN RADISH ONION RICE

GINKGO OLIVE MAPLE ICE

THYME STRAWBERRY

PAPAYA CATTAIL SHERRY

MULBERRY PLUM MIMOSA

ARGYREIA NERVOSA

CUCUMBERS MAYPOPS SHAMROCKS

What's with the HEMLOCKS?!

BOURBON APRICOTS SOUR

TRUFFLE SAMPHIRE FLOWER

SQUASH ZUCCHINI MACARONI PORCINI VERMICELLI

AVOCADOS PISTACHIOS CINNAMON ROYAL JELLY

PERSIMMONS HEMP HEARTS GREEN GODDESS

CELASTRUS PANICULATUS

KOMBUCHA AND ORANGES.

Cash only?! Uhhhhh nevermind.

(something idk)

Guess who!!!!

hmmmm

i think it’s akaru, apollo, lea, or asher !!

also this looks like this was entirely typed by hand you good? /silly

[beastinthebelfry]

Room 100: Saints and Sinners

Read/Follow Here

Stepping into room 100, Holly Albright isn’t entirely sure what she’ll find. Sure she filled out the forms, detailing her fantasy as extensively as possible, but as important as the location is to her fantasy, she had painted it in broad strokes, leaving enough open to interpretation to ensure that she wouldn’t know exactly what she was walking into.

She’s not at all disappointed as she steps through the door, leaving the dark, modern halls of Enchanting Temptations for the warm gothic tones of intricately carved Walnut and soft red velvet. She takes a deep breath as the door closes behind her, wood polish enveloping her senses in the tiny space. 

She takes a moment to truly appreciate where she is, to let it sink in that her fantasy is really going to come true. She runs her hands along the carved lineals,  detailed grape leaves and vines winding through the polished wood panels and ending with plump bunches of perfectly round grapes. Angels stare down from the sloped ceiling, arches framing painted murals of biblical scenes. 

She shudders at the intense gaze of the angels, their condescending judgment having the opposite effect on her now than in a real confessional. She hears a door close on the other side of the wall and her attention is drawn to the red velvet curtain hanging in the arched opening just above a similarly upholstered prayer kneeler. 

Holly steps up to it, smoothing the woolen skirt of her simple black dress as she lowers herself to her knees on the padded bar. She brings her hands up, palms together and thumbs crossed. 

“Whenever you are ready, little lamb.” The voice beyond the curtain is deep and reverent, a soothing balm to a sinner’s conscience. 

Holly knows this part by heart; has said it countless times since she was a little girl. “Bless me father for I have sinned. It has been… too long since my last confession.”  she pauses, a titter of excitement fluttering through her. 

“What ails you, little lamb?” the voice asks when she’s quiet a little too long. 

“I have… impure thoughts Father.” she replies. “Lustful thoughts. It consumes me. I can’t stop myself from imagining all the depraved things I want to do.” 

“I see.” he says, his tone taking on a sharper quality, like he’s resisting the urge to pass judgment on her. She feels a twinge between her legs at the thought. He clears his throat. “We are all human, children of God. To lust is natural.” Despite the words there’s an air of strain in his voice, as though he’s struggling to remain neutral, comforting.  

“I don’t think this is natural, Father?” Holly tells him. “I think there’s something really wrong with me.” 

She hears his thoughtful hum. “Perhaps you ought to tell me exactly what it is you fantasize about.”

Holly gasps at the thought of sharing such depravity with a man of the cloth, all the while clenching her thighs together in a desperate bid for friction. 

“Do not shy away from me, little lamb. You must be willing to lay bare your soul to the lord. I am merely his tool.” 

“I…well…” she hesitates, taking a deep breath. “I want to… suck cock all the time. Sometimes it’s all I can think about. There are days I’ll be at the grocery store and I imagine myself dropping to my knees in front of one of the stock boys and just pulling it out and shoving it down my throat.” she takes another deep breath, the exhale shaking as she tamps down the excitement. “I went on a date to the movies last week and we sat all the way in the back in the top row. There was hardly anyone in the theater so no one could see us and I just… I couldn’t focus on the movie. It was like something possessed me. I got down on the floor in front of him and sucked him off right there.” 

The long silence proceeding builds an exquisite tension that has Holly clenching her thighs together, even more desperate for relief. 

“What else?” 

“I’m sorry?” Holly asks. 

“What else?” The edge of his tone is razor sharp now, words clipped, cutting through her core. She fights back a moan as he no longer clings to neutrality. “Surely there is more you aren’t saying. What other depravities have you committed, Little Sinner.” 

“There’s a park, Father, near my apartment. A big park with lots of places where good people don’t go after dark. One of those places has an old cabin with holes in the walls between rooms, holes of all different sizes. I’ve used all of them but my favorite is the one big enough to fit my whole body through. I’ll go there in a little skirt and no panties and lean through the hole and just wait for someone to come along. It never takes long for someone to show up. Sometimes there’s more than one and they’ll fill me up from both ends, fucking me like our lives depend on it… oh Father, please, please help me.” she sobs. 

There’s a heavy sigh in response as she cries into her folded hands. “Enough of that.” he says abruptly, cutting off her tears. “You have come here for forgiveness and it is within my power to give it.” his voice still cuts, radiating cold authority. “But I do not believe you deserve it.” he continues and Holly gasps. “You come here seeking forgiveness, but I would bet the Sunday Collections that you will be right back to it when you leave here. People like you do not change, little sinner.” he sneers. 

“People like me?” 

“Whores.” he snaps. “Whores who think they can clean the slate and start over. Whores who go right back to their debauchery.”

“No! I want it, Father, please. I do want to change.” 

“Then you must seek penance through punishment. For without punishment, there is no penance that will right a sinner like you.” 

“Anything Father. I’ll do anything.” 

“I’m glad to hear that, little lamb.” The edge of his voice is gone now, her compliance soothing the tension. There’s a rustling of fabric before Holly jerks back in surprise, a cock thrusting through the velvet curtain. “We will rid you of your urges through exposure.” 

“B…but  Father, how-” 

A gloved hand pushes through the curtain as abruptly as his cock, leather creaking as he pinches either side of her chin between his fingers. “Do not question God’s demands of you.” he pulls her closer. “Now open your mouth.” 

She whimpers, doing as she’s told, letting him pull her closer until the tip of him rests against her lips. 

“Now, I know you know what to do next.” His voice is so low, gravel grating across every nerve ending in her body. It’s menacing in its timber. She rubs her thighs together, feeling the building slick, desperate for relief. 

She wraps her lips around the tip, circling her tongue around it and sucking gently. She hears the rush of air as he sighs beyond the curtain, his hand gently caressing the side of her face. “That’s a good girl, little Lamb. Very good. Just like that.” She hums, pleased with the praise and doubles her efforts, taking him in a bit more and sucking a little harder. He groans in response.  

She continues this way for a while, slowly working in him farther and farther into her mouth, sucking harder with each inch forward; tongue working faster. Eventually she grows restless and with a smooth motion forward she swallows him down to the root, earning a guttural grunt that sends shocks of pleasure to her core.

“Oh my,” he says, voice strained. “It would appear things are worse than I thought.” he tells her as his other hand slips through the curtain. “Look how easily you did that. I think more drastic measures are required.” with that he takes hold of her head in both hands, stopping her movements. Without warning he drives himself forward, gagging her before pulling back. He thrusts forward again, his movements swift and rough, a solid force of flesh against flesh as he drives his pelvis forward, his cock sliding down her throat.

Holly moans, her nails digging into the sill of the window. He pulls out long enough to let her breathe, but that’s it. It’s never enough to soothe the burn or fill her lungs, keeping her on a razor's edge. 

And then he stops, pulling free. “You're enjoying this.” his voice was accusatory, that hard edge back. “That’s unacceptable. This is supposed to be a punishment.” he released her head, disappearing through the curtain. 

“Father?” she calls when she hears a door open and close. He doesn’t answer and she sits for a moment longer before curiosity gets the better of her. Sliding the curtain aside, Holly sticks her head through the window finding the opposite side empty. It’s a near perfect twin of the one she’s in, the exception being a velvet padded chair instead of the kneeler.  

Holly startles when she hears the door open to her own booth and she pulls back looking over her shoulder to find an older man with thick dark hair standing in the doorway. He looks stern, face hard, his brown eyes nearly glaring at her. 

There’s not a lot of space in the booth, barely two steps between them. 

“Look at you.” he finally speaks, slamming the door behind him. She looks down at herself. She had worn a simple black woolen dress. Something that could be construed as either modest or enticing depending on one’s perspective. The hem stopped at mid thigh, forcing her to adjust it every time she sat down, stood up or bent over. In the act of leaning through the window, the hem had lifted higher than she expected, exposing her lack of underwear beneath her dark panty hoes. “How can you expect forgiveness when you have no shame?” he practically growls at her. 

He closes the distance in a single long stride, grabbing her wrist and pulling her to her feet. “You come into the house of God and defile his sacred covenants with your insincerity.” he yanks her forward, his other other arm a solid band around her waist. She feels his hands against the thin material of her panty hoes, moving downward around the curve of her ass to the apex of her thighs. She jolts as he presses two fingers against her, a solid pressure against her most intimate place. 

He heaves a breath, rage playing across his handsome face. “Filthy little sinner.” he grinds out through his clenched teeth. He presses up a little harder, forcing her onto her toes, a whimper escaping her. “Do you like that little sinner? Do you like to be defiled in the house of God? Do you feel him looking down on you, disappointed?” 

She moans, her core clenching. 

“Of course you do, you're just a whore. A filthy whore.” 

“Please Father.” she whines and without warning, he releases her wrist and brings his hand down against her ass with a solid thwack. “Oh!” 

“In the name of God I will cleanse you of your sinful urges.” he tells her, his voice low and dangerous. Wrapping his arms around her waist, he lifts her off her feet and turns her back to him. Stepping toward the curtained window, he forces her through, balancing her stomach along the sill, her lower half bared to him. 

Father!” she exclaims, struggling to find something to hold onto. Eventually she does, stabilizing herself in time to feel the first strike against her ass. “Oh fuck.” she gasps, earning herself two more in quick succession. “Oh please Father.” 

“What are you begging for, little sinner? Mercy or more?” 

He doesn’t give her a chance to respond, striking her again on one cheek, then again on the other. He alternates back and forth until she’s certain she can feel her slick down her thighs. She can feel her climax building with each strike, her core clenching around empty space, begging to be filled. 

Eventually he stops, a deep, shaking exhalation filling the silence. “It’s not enough.” she hears him mutter under his breath. “Lord, please give me the strength to return your lost lamb to the flock.” he prays. He then digs his fingers into the seam of her panty hoes along her pussy and pulls until they tear. 

There’s no warning as he drives two fingers into her. Holly screams, a sound that tapers off into moans as he pounds into her, stimulating her g-spot almost violently. The edge that had begun to fade comes racing up at full speed, a pressure in her abdomen that she knows all too well. She strains and flexes around his fingers until the pleasure becomes too much and she tips over the edge, a stream of squirt tearing from her pussy and undoubtedly soaking everything in it’s way. 

She’s shaking as she comes down from her high, her legs dangling useless on the other side of the wall. 

“Yes, that’s it. Let it out. Let go of the temptation and sin, Little Lamb.” 

“Is that it Father? Am I forgiven?” Holly asks softly. 

“Almost.” he replies, the sound of a zipper punctuating the statement. 

She feels him at her entrance, a thick, hardness sliding through the slick of her orgasm. The stretch as he pushes into her has her moaning. 

He doesn’t give her time to adjust, picking up a brutal pace that has her gripping at the wall on the other side. His fingers dig into her hips, keeping her in place, undoubtedly leaving bruises. Between his pace and the depravity, it doesn’t take her long to tip over the edge again, moaning and whining as he fucks her through it and into another. 

“Oh Father, Father, please. I can’t take anymore.” she cries. 

“You can and you will.” he tells her, his fingers finding her clit. The pressure sends her over again, her entire body convulsing with little tremors of pleasure even as her orgasm fades. 

Without warning, he pulls her from the window, turning her to face him and pushing her to her knees. The image he presents is everything she’s ever fantasized about. Face flushed but stern, he’s still completely clothed save for his cock sticking out of his zipper. 

“Open your mouth.” He orders her and she does, sitting obediently, hands on her thighs, tongue out ready to receive his communion. He jerks himself off for her, thick gobs of cum landing on her tongue, chin and lips. “Very good Little Lamb.” he replies, breath ragged. “The lord is pleased with you and has accepted your penance.” 

Holly hums delighted, licking her lips clean.

[bigolbadblog]

🥞pancake breakfast🥞

a soft, sweet f/f feedist drabble. this one cuts off before it gets too steamy, just bc i'm tired and i wanted to post something on Pancake Day, but i'm hoping to come back to this concept and these characters in the future. hope you enjoy!

It takes careful effort to settle the cast-iron griddle on the stove without making any noise, but it's worth it. To Bianca, at least. She turns the heat medium-high and fights the urge to sing aloud as she turns back to the counter. She pours the wet ingredients into the dry and whisks, just enough to break up the clumps.

The griddle is heating up. She wets her fingers at the kitchen sink and flicks arcs of water over it. The droplets sizzle and steam, and Bianca repeats the test just for fun, enjoying the flick of her long pink nails, the way the water dances on the glossy black iron. Satisfied, she greases the griddle.

And then she's off to the races, ladling batter over the hot griddle, big generous pancakes, little hand-held pancakes, silver dollars and Mickey Mouses and even one shaped- a little lopsidedly, she's not an artist- like a heart. The first batch is plain, but once they're done, she starts getting fancy with it. The next batch gets fresh blueberries, delicately dropped into the cooking pancakes and crowned with another dollop of batter to keep them from sticking when she flips the pancakes over. Then it's banana slices and chopped walnuts, and then she's measuring out miniature chocolate chips when she feels a pair of strong hands on her waist and a soft belly against her back. She yelps, and behind her, there's a familiar laugh.

“Majorrrrr,” Bianca whines, without any real edge. “This was supposed to be breakfast in bed! I've been so sneaky.”

She twists around to face Major, and feels her heart flutter the same way it did when she first saw her walk into that PTA bake sale years ago. Major's short salt-and-pepper hair is a mess, sticking up every which way, and she's still in her pajamas- if you can even call them that. A pair of plaid boxer shorts and a concert t-shirt so thoroughly aged that Bianca's not even sure she could read the band name. It's a chilly mid-February morning, but Major always runs warm. She gives Bianca a smile, and at least for the moment, Bianca runs warm too.

“Not sneaky enough,” Major teases, tapping her nose. “Did you really think I wouldn't sniff you out?”

“Or maybe I just thought you'd be patient?”

“Not a chance. Hey, anything I can do to help cook?”

“Nope. I'm almost done. You can help eat, though.” Bianca nods to the pile of already-made pancakes, sitting heaped on a plate under a sheet of tin foil.

“Oh, pour moi?” Major pretends to notice the plate for the first time. “Quelle surprise!”

“Yeah, yeah. Sit down and eat up. Next batch is chocolate chip.”

“Yes, ma'am.” Major takes the laden plate and sits down at the kitchen table, where Bianca's already set out butter, syrup, and jam. “You sure know how to spoil a woman, don't you?”

Bianca pours the chocolate chips into the remaining batter, then takes a moment to lean back against the kitchen counter and admire Major. She'd had that band shirt since before they even started dating. Back then, it had been a size or two too big. These days… well, that extra size or two gave it a little more longevity than most of Major's pre-Bianca wardrobe. So did the fact that Major had cut the sleeve and neck holes bigger. But Bianca swears she's been noticing Major adjusting that bottom hem a lot more than she used to.

“Yeah,” Bianca smiles, watching Major butter up a pancake, ”I guess I do.”

[angellayercake]

I am curious about eating and then eating

Very curious 👀

Well Oakie!! You, @da-rulah and @adevilyoudo all have unlocked a sneaky peak of Banchetto!!! (although I think two of you may have already seen this 🙃)

This is not from the next chapter Insalata but from Fromagi e Frutta where Terzo and his little chef go on an actual date 💜

NSFW teaser under the read more

'No no you want to pair this one with the fig chutney and the cracker...' you trail off as he pops the cheese and grape into his mouth, his expression souring as he chews. So far he has decided to ignore all the suggestions he had been given, both from you and the ones so enthusiasticly given by the man running the stall. He drops back in his chair with a pout. 

'This is not a good substitute for your cooking cara,' he huffs crossing his arms and furrowing his brow. You have to press your lips together to stifle your laugh unable to help being flattered, but his lack of enjoyment thus far was entirely his own doing. Reaching over the board you carefully chose a slice of bread, smear it with cranberry conserve then a generous slice of brie. His eyes follow you as you finish it with a drizzle of fresh honey. You offer it too him but he doesn't even attempt to take it from you instead leaning down with a smirk taking a large bite directly from your hand. 

'Mmmm,' he lets out that delicious rumbling moan that can feel as much as hear. 'You see this is why I keep you around no? I would never know to do this.'

'You would if you just listened,' he shakes his head as he takes the rest of the bite deliberately sucking the remaining traces of stickiness and crumbs from you fingers. 

'More? Prego?' A man of his age should not be able to twist you around his little finger the way he does, but you are unable to resist the coy pleased look he gives you through his eyelashes. You want to say no and make him feed himself but your will power is in short supply around him at the best of times and he is well aware of that fact. 

'Fine,' you give in with a roll of your eyes which is more for show then put of genuine annoyance but he knows how easily he has won given the shiteating grin that spreads across his face. He props his elbows on the table and his chin in his hands as he waits for you.

'I'm ready for the next bite cuocoina,' he says giving you a sweet but insistant smile so you waste no more time selecting the next option. To contrast completely with the mild and creamy brie you chose a blue cheese, carefully piling it on a cracker with a slice of pear and a walnut. As you bring it closer he opens his mouth waiting for you to feed him.

'Really?' Yet again you find yourself making a token protest as you discover that you may enjoy feeding him as much as you enjoyed cooking for him. He didn't need to know that yet though. 

'It tastes better coming from your fair hands, cara. What can I say?' And so it continues until he has eaten his fill. You work your way through the variety of cheeses, offering him seconds of his favourites or changing flavour combinations where he wasn't so keen, all the while contending with him nipping and sucking and licking at your fingers at every given opportunity. Even though you had begun to build up a tolerance to his teasing and flirting, at least compared to the earlier part of your time with him you were beginning to reach your limits and with every tease felt closer and closer to just begging him to give you something. Almost as if he could tell you were at your breaking point he stopped you with a warm hand coming to rest on your thigh. 

‘May I have my desert now cuocoina?’ he asks fingers already sliding your skirt up your thighs until he can clearly see your underwear and the wet patch there is little point trying to hide. ‘Ah so you do enjoy hand feeding your Papa then.’ He spreads your legs and drops down to his knees so he is eye level with your cunt. ‘After all that fuss.’ He grazes his teeth over your clit, the material of your underwear protecting you but the threat still makes your thighs shake. When he does bite down it’s only on the hem of your underwear as he pulls them off you leaving you entirely bare to him for the first time.  

He just looks at first taking in the mess he has already made of you but in a split second his tongue is every where yet never stopping for long in any of the places you wanted him, needed him. Around and around and over your folds, the most gentle and frustrating suction as he makes little sounds of enjoyment that seem to vibrate through you. But his teasing as you fed him, his sucking and nipping at your fingers had already got you wanting so much more. Giving in you lace your fingers through his hair to guide him to exactly where you want his attention most. But he resists all your attempts, making the frustration inside you build and build. You try another tactic grinding your hips against his face but he pulls away as he presses your hips down onto the chair stopping any further movements from you and forcing a whine from deep in your chest. 

‘Cuocoina, please. I am just trying to properly enjoy my meal.’ He pauses to lick a long stripe, tongue flat and broad to give you as much friction as possible. You can’t breathe, not for a moment the sudden rush of pleasure the only thing your mind can comprehend but as soon as it starts it ends the only thing you can feel are the puffs of his warm breath. 

‘But perhaps you would prefer to feed me this too?’ He positions himself that he is are hair's breadth away from you before his vice like grip on your hips loosens. ‘Move’ he growls and you have to obey. 

[twoidiotwriters1]

Daughter of Olympus (Leo Valdez xFem!Oc)

A/N: They're so cute I wanna cry -Danny Words: 2,304 Series' Masterlist Previous Chapter / Next Chapter Listen to: 'Alone Together' -by Fall Out Boy

XXXIII: The Slowest Slow-burn Becomes a Wild-fire

It's been a while since Janus visited my dreams, so I can't help but groan in annoyance when I see him in the Empire State lobby.

"Can't a girl mourn in peace?" I complain.

"We're happy to see you too," the right head replies.

"What do you want?"

"Your crossroad is approaching, demigod," he says. "We have a present for you."

"I didn't know you gave presents to go along with the existential crisis!" I cross my arms.

"Funny," the left head sneers.

"We're here to talk to you one last time..."

"For now," Leftie adds.

"Let me finish!" says Right. "Arae Jackson. You have to choose."

"I choose to wake up!" 

"War is coming," Right ignores me. "The end of a story."

"The start of another," Leftie continues.

"A chance for a good life. A short one."

"But happy," counts Left. "As happy as it can be."

"Or..." Right grins wickedly.

"Or!" Leftie exclaims with delight.

"Or?" I ask impatiently.

"An opportunity to fix your mistakes!" 

"Though no good deed goes unpunished. Meddling is pricey, Jackson."

"Small cost for greatness," Right sighs. "And a child of Olympus doesn't dwell on sacrifice."

"All gods are flawed anyway," Leftie chuckles. "You'll fit right in!"

I feel something cold run down my spine. "I-I don't understand..."

"We know," they reply.

"That's the fun of it!" Left cackles.

"One thing's for sure," Right smirks. "If you choose wrong, everyone dies!"

The dream goes away, and the floor with it. Everything around me is pitch-black but I can hear the roaring of a creature—A sulfuric smell burns my nose, and I start choking.

Ara gives most of her food as an offering to the gods—her stomach feels the size of a walnut—then takes little sips from her goblet before abandoning the table. She leaves without even glancing at Cabin Nine's table. 

She doesn't want to see  Leo; if he looks normal, or if he looks even worse than she does, neither of those is going to make her feel better. Ara wishes she had someone to talk to who could give her all the answers. But alas, the more she grows, the more she realizes just how tragically lonely life is.

"Hi, beautiful. I saw you and thought—'Wow, I should follow her to a secluded area, that'll make her like me'," Leo speaks behind her as soon as she reaches the beach.

He's more nervous than he'd like to admit, but his hands betray him, fidgeting nonstop. He's wearing a clean pair of cargo pants and a camp shirt, he also tried to brush his hair but the wind is making it messy again.

"I, er..." Ara can't help feeling dizzy knowing Leo took his time to get clean and look nice just for her.

"Hang on," he's got a blanket over his shoulder, the boy holds it and walks past her. "You're always giving orders, let me give it a try..." he places the fabric over the sand. "Sit."

Ara doesn't know what to expect from Leo, he picks up a little basket that she hadn't noticed a moment ago, and her body lights up when she realizes he's prepared a picnic.

"You didn't eat," he sits next to her. "Me neither. Jason said you get hungry during the date anyway, so I thought it'd be a good idea to eat while we talk and..." he clears his throat, trying not to feel self-conscious. "It's cheesy but—"

"It's perfect," Ara hugs her knees. "I've never done anything like this, but cheesy's a good way to start, I think."

"I'm counting on it, 'cause that's all I've got," Leo mimics her pose in a more relaxed way. "But if you end up not liking it, we can try something else."

Ara can't make eye contact yet, so she keeps her gaze on the food. "So uhm... what's in the basket?"

"Double-stuffed Oreos and a six-pack of cokes," the boy rubs his neck. "That's all Travis Stoll could get me on short notice."

Ara's faced armies of monsters without flinching, but a first date stresses her beyond belief. "I like Oreos."

Leo moves the basket closer to her. "Help yourself."

She opens a package. "When I first got here, I asked for a stuffed cookie the size of my palm. Silena wanted me to eat healthier, she said I wouldn't grow otherwise, but I didn't grow either way. I blame the orphanage, didn't give me enough formula when I was little."

Leo chuckles. "Well, girls stop growing until they're like, twenty-one. You've still got time."

Ara laughs too, she glances at him afterwards. "You lived in an orphanage too, right?"

"Sorta," he makes a face. "Foster homes."

"Plural?"

"I was always running away. They would move me around, hoping I'd stop."

"Maybe if I'd stayed in the orphanage, we would've met. If it weren't for Hedge, I would've stayed in that place... for too long."

Leo knows that isn't true. Most people would adopt someone like Ara right away: Intelligent, polite, and with the face of an angel. That is exactly what happened when the Jacksons met her, they fell in love.

She's the kind of girl Leo would've avoided because they made him uncomfortable. It was pure luck that they met when Ara was in a horrible mood, Leo had been able to act somewhat normal (his normal) around her, which then caused Ara to give him a chance.

"I'm glad Hedge found you," he admits.

"Me too," the girl shrugs. "Even if people still think I'm a problem, at least I've got some friends here."

"Yeah, know what you mean," Leo grabs an Oreo. "I have an aunt—still out there probably—she loved saying that I was wicked..." he laughs dryly. "She's the reason I ended up in foster homes—The rest of my relatives turned their backs on me thanks to her."

Ara doesn't want the conversation to be so heavy, they're supposed to be sorting out their... whatever they have going on, so she tries to lighten up the mood. 

"Hey, I just realized... I don't think we know each other well. We should do something about that if we're going to... date."

Leo smiles a little. "You're right. How do we fix it? D'you want to play twenty questions?"

Ara nods. "You're Mexican-American, right? Do you speak Spanish fluently?" 

She's aware that is a stupid question, but it's all she can come up with. Fortunately, Leo finds it amusing. "'Course I do! Want me to teach you some curse words?"

"Sure," she grins. "I can teach you how to swear in French and Italian, though sometimes I still get the Italian wrong, but maybe you'll find that one easy, I've heard is similar to Spanish."

"Wow," Leo leans back and smiles. "You're so smart."

It's weird to be on the receiving end of flirty behavior. Most people assume Ara can't be flirted with, fearing Percy or Lily will step in to murder them, so they never try. It's a bummer, she's still Aphrodite at the core and wants all the compliments, and she loves that Leo is so willing to deliver.

"So what's your favorite food? And you can't say tacos, I already know that one."

Leo grins, it's nice to know Ara pays attention to him. "Enchiladas with arrachera—and I know what you're thinking, but enchiladas are not tacos. My mom used to make a salsa with habaneros, she was always shocked to see I could eat a whole plate without sweating."

Ara smiles. "You were close to your mom?"

"Yup. She was the best."

"You were a mama's boy?" The girl teases him.

Leo snorts. "Maybe. My kid self would've kicked your kid self's butt all the same."

"Is that how you decide to approach this?" She giggles. "I'm your crush!" 

"You started it!" He replies, also grinning. "And I was a tougher kid than you ever were."

"I was good at exploding things, I could've blasted your butt into space."

Leo smirks. "Would've been worth it." He lies on the blanket, both hands behind his head. "So... you ever met your mortal parent? The one who fell for Aphrodite?"

Ara makes a face. "That jerk abandoned me as soon as I was born," she says, playing with the sand around her feet. "He didn't want to be a dad."

That's not so hard to believe, what's hard to believe is that it happened to Ara. The beautiful, intelligent girl sitting next to him. "Why would he do that?" It surprises her just how stunned he sounds. "Did you look for him?"

"What for?" She wrinkles her nose. "He named me with the sole purpose of insulting my mother, can't be clearer than that."

Leo stares at her. "But it's a compliment, you know that, right?"

Despite the topic, Ara feels like laughing. "How is that a compliment? He called me a curse!"

"Well, it's a curse to the world that you're so pretty."

Ara blushes and laughs. "You're an idiot."

Leo grabs another Oreo, looking proud of himself. "Yeah, I can be your idiot anytime, just say the word."

"I'll keep that in mind."

The girl watches the sun sink under the sealine. Slowly, the moonlight illuminates their features, and there is an orange tint to it coming from the distant campfire. Ara feels at ease for the first time in months.

"I like this a lot," she says. "A solid first date."

"M'glad," Leo sits up to face her, but she's not ready to look at him. "I wanted you to feel comfortable. Like when I'm with you... I don't have to keep my hands busy."

"I'd like to keep your hands busy, though..." Ara replies quietly.

The boy inhales so sharply he chokes. "W-What?"

"See that constellation?" She changes the subject, too flustered to keep the other going. "I met her."

"What?" Leo repeats, even more confused. 

Her heart is pounding and she's sure he can hear it. She's terrified, but she has to be brave. Ara reaches for his hand and holds it firmly. "She was a hunter of Artemis, died while saving Annabeth... Her name was Zoë."

Leo's skin glows golden, but it's flickering like he's fighting it back. "Ara, I'll burn through the blanket if you don't let go of me."

She tries to take her hand back. "Sorry—"

Leo tightens his grip. "The way you... all I've ever..." he takes a deep breath and stares at Zoë's constellation. "I'm not good with words."

"I know."

He shakes his head. "And you like me anyway? I don't understand, you should be with someone like Jason."

The girl frowns. "Says who?"

"You can have anyone you want... are you sure you want me?"

Ara's chest tightens at his words. "I don't think I'm worth many things, Leo, but I got them. Because I asked for them."

"Yeah, but—"

"You're the first person that's ever asked me out," she laughs. "You're the only one who cares about me this way. You said I didn't have to be alone, and that you could be whatever I needed. You didn't mean that?"

"I did," Leo replies quickly, but his grip is loosening. "But—"

"Shouldn't I be with the boy who wants to look after me?"

"It's just..." he scowls at the sand, kicking it lightly. "You're one of the highlights of my entire life. I don't wanna mess it up."

"I want you to hug me sometimes," she scoots closer to him, nudging his shoulder. "I'm not asking you to bring me the moon!"

"I know, Ara," Leo hugs his knees again and supports his head on them, pouting like a little kid. "But being myself isn't good enough."

Ara tries not to smile, but she fails. "I know how that feels..."

"No, doll. I mean, I don't know if you've noticed, but people don't fawn over me. Not even you."

She snorts. "I can change the way I show my affection if you need me to."

"I'm talking about a real problem here: the genetics I was born with." 

"You do remember you're half god, right?"

"You do remember how Hephaestus looks, right?" He asks in the same tone.

Ara wants to laugh. She also wants to never talk to boys again for the rest of her life. "I'm not enjoying the anticipation as much as I thought I would."

"That makes two of us..." he sighs. "I warn you, this might happen way too often. I overthink and spiral, I regret saying things as soon as they leave my mouth, and sometimes I don't even realize I've said something wrong until hours or days later."

"Very ADHD of you," she muses.

The way the moonlight falls on her face makes it look like she's also a constellation. Ara is as attractive as she is unsettling, and it's only making Leo like her more.

"So what do we do?" The girl asks. "Should we take it slow?"

Leo purses his lips. This is a once-in-a-lifetime event, and no matter how much it frightens him, he's desperate to hold her close once more. "I don't do slow."

Leo kisses her. His lips fit hers like they were meant for this, and her heart has never beaten as fast as it does now. Leo glows to his total capacity, and Ara closes her eyes so the light doesn't hurt her. Every bad thing that's ever happened to them suddenly is not such a big deal after all.

Leo's hand settles on her waist as he moves forward, he's never kissed anyone like this, but he can't get enough of her. Everywhere he touches feels like fire on her skin—and it could be—but she's too delighted to care. 

When the kiss ends, Leo stares at her like he can't believe she's welcoming his touch, that she wants it. Ara runs a hand through his hair, and that causes his breath to hitch. He pushes himself away, cheeks flushed and nose very much on fire. Ara bursts out laughing at the sight. 

"Calm down!"

He scowls and it's like she can hear him say: "Do you think I can do that right now?" Leo shakes his head in disbelief, leaning in to kiss her a second time. Ara tries to keep the flames under control and the boy chuckles at her actions, but he doesn't stop kissing her. 

"You'll burn me!" She giggles.

In response, Leo just wraps his arms tighter around her.

Next Chapter ->

Taglist.

@siriuslysirius1107 @ask-giggles1303 @ash-the-hoarder @im-planning-something-look @bandshirts-andbooks @coolninjapaper @thewaterlily @whenisthefall @1randomcomic @you-bloody-shank @sunflowergraves @owlalex44 @taylordaughter @typicalsolangelolover @writingmia @espressopatronum454 @slytherinnqueen @orbitingpolaris @obxstiles

[changanomaly]

an assortment of unorganized total drama headcanons I have (some probably contradict the timeframe when the td timeline takes place in but whatever):

Courtney and Heather pretend to have refined taste in music but blast Mitski full volume when they're alone

Heather and Harold are still actually really great friends after TD and find that they have a lot in common. Exhibit A: Their MLP phases

Noah's 15th birthday gift from his mother was a Miku binder. Also yes Noah's transmasc keep scrolling

Izzy, Eva, Owen, Noah and Emma are all in a polycule and currently live in a big apartment. (for more info um here)

Prior to it, they'd been kicked out of 4 consecutively for 2 straight months due to a fire break out from an 'undetectable source'. Surprisingly none of them were caused by Izzy, but Owen repeatedly cooking/reheating food at 3 in the morning

The ROTI cast in comparison to the rest of the casts are incredibly tight knit and go out of their way to meet up and keep in contact with each other. Anne Maria and Dawn are definitely the mom friends of the group.

Scott can be slimy, but he sure do loves his family a whole lot, and even though there's a lot of them, they're all really close. Initial reasoning to going back on TDAS was to help them cover what the entire family had given to get him to recover from being attacked by Fang

After a recording of a season is over (other than TDI), all contestants- former, current, the ones who aren't arrested- are all invited to stay at Playa Des Losers for a week (a shitty excuse to get all generations of cast members to interact to each other in my head...why yes)

The pinnacle of wealth to Scott was watching Shrek the Musical live and his first thought in what to do with the million in ROTI after the vague idea of investing in stocks was to bring all his family (and briefly in TDAS as a date with Courtney) to watch it

Duncan has a soft spot for Izzy. She's one of the only people who visit him while he's in prison. She drags along Team E-scope (+ Owen and Emma) to her visits sometimes

Shawn's first exposure to zombie related media was Plants vs Zombies. He has several sunflowers, pea plants, potatoes and a couple of walnut trees outside of his house that he says will mutate alongside the zombie virus pandemic to protect him. He owns and plays a lot of zombie video games in general alongside his huge collection of zombie movies and other zombie related media- other than PVZ, his favorite's The Last of Us

At Playa, Courtney and Gwen talk. It's one of the rare times Courtney owns up to her faults genuinely. And she tries to do the same thing with Scott but she can't bring herself to knock on his door. The prospect of things turning out like Duncan- even vaguely- made her blood grow cold.

Jo, Lightning and Brick meet Sky while they're hanging at Playa after the TDPI finale and chat her up while she seemed really down abt it all. After some chatting, a bit of insults thrown (thanks Jo), Brick's understanding sympathy, seldom seen empathy from Lightning, and a lot of racing and competing with each other, they become quite close. They keep in contact with each other afterwards- which is more than Sky can say about most of her relations on her own cast.

Speaking of; Sky keeps in contact with Ella, Jasmine (and since they're kind of a package deal, Shawn), oddly enough- though they weren't in the same team and didn't talk much on the island- Sammy, even more oddly enough Beardo- who she finds out just had a hard time opening up, and most oddly enough Leonard- who she finds out doesn't actually think he's a wizard and was just playing up one of his characters since he wasn't skilled in much anything else and wanted to see how far he got into the show with his whole wizard act. He even went out of his way to try it again alongside his friend Tammy in TDRR.

The small group does online DND campaigns that Sky occasionally joins in on in between juggling Olympic training, but they're mostly dominated by Sammy, Ella, Shawn, Beardo and some of Leonard's irl friends. Leonard DMs.

Eva knows how to crochet. Beth finds out in one of the Aftermath shows backstage, and they actually bond together over it. Well, after Eva threatens to kill her if she tells anyone

Courtney's really into musical theatre (won't admit to it but love West Side Story and Heahers). So are Mike (who's fav musical is Les Mis and Hadestown) and Ella (duh) (her favorite musical is Robert and Hammerstein's Cinderella)

Ella and Gwen are close cousins (as seen in TDR, but is otherwise not canon), and most are kind of shocked to find out. Ella would often bring up how Gwen would always gladly play the Evil Queen to her Princess when they were younger, where Gwen would retort by bringing up how bad Ella's tantrums were when she didn't agree.

The Best Friends subplot was scripted. Carrie is a lesbian, and Devin's aroace. A couple of d-list actors who also coincidentally are best friends

The Drama Network (as I'll call it) gets sued hard after Pahkitew airs. Not only for what happened in the season but a lot of prior incidents that weren't brought up in court- like Dakota's mutation, Scott being attacked by Fang, and the general endangerment of minors that happened in ROTI. Ditto with Pahkitew. Since TD was still a big hit, it didn't make much of a dent with the Network but still made it so they were weary of bringing the show back- which is why there hadn't been a new season for more than a decade in universe

[autobot2001]

Baking Class

Author: Autobot2001 Henre: Fanfiction Fandom: Transformers Rating: E Warnings: None Pairing: Drift X Jamie (OC) Description: Drift takes Jamie to the bakery for a baking class.

Day 15; @fluffyfebruary: craft @fluffbruary: cord | bakery | honey

Drift found out the local bakery is having a baking class. He’s worried that the class will be baking something Jamie doesn’t like, but he thinks it’ll be fun. Jamie still wants to go to the bakery, even though there are still cookies they bought two days ago.

The two go to the bakery at two the next day. There are three other couples joining the class. The class is making banana date cake with walnuts and honey glaze. “That sounds good,* Drift comments, “we can bring the cake home.”

The two follow the instructions. Putting the first six ingredients in the mixing bowl. Jamie plugs in the hand-held mixer, but it won’t turn on. The cord is damaged. “I’m sorry, but we don’t have another,” the instructor apologizes. The instructor is ready to offer a refund and coupon for another class, but their two students aren’t bothered by having to mix with a wooden spoon. It’s easy for Drift to mix with the wooden spoon.

Once everything is mixed, it’s time to mash bananas and chop the dates. Drift cannot keep Jamie from using her hands to mash the bananas. “Now your hands are a mess,” Drift comments, “go wash them. I’ll chop the dates.” Once the cakes are baking, everyone is dismissed for nintey minutes. By then, the cakes should be ready for glazing.

two hours pass, and everyone has a nice looking cake. Drift and Jamie want to wait until they get home and share with friends. First, the two get dinner.

Drift tries to get Jamie to talk about the class but is unsuccessful. He struggled not to let his mind worry about Jamie’s mental health and why conversation is challenging for her.

When the two get home, they share the cake with their friends. Only two of the eight slices remain, but only because Drift and Jamie shared a slice. The two want to save one slice for Lightning. “So, who do I fight for the last slice?” Sideswipe asks. “No one, that is Drift and Jamie’s,” Sunstreaker argues. Everyone liked the cake and hope Drift and Jamie will make it again.

[sanddusted-wisteria]

13, 15, 18, and 20 for Wisty!

Also a question directed to her: when did you realize you had feelings for our dear Director? 😳😳😳

Hi thank you so much for asking Mel 🥺 Sticking this under a Read More since as always I ramble lol

13. What’s their favourite Relic?

Wis really likes the floating galaxy! Ponder the O R B

[Fun fact: the floating galaxy is the only space related relic Qi's only neutral towards.]

15. Preferred method of travel? Do they prefer walking, yakmel carts, horse, etc?

For work, Wis likes to use the yakmel carts for the effimciency. Whenever a new yakmel station request comes up, it's the first thing she gets done. After a while, she gets a horse (she named her Beans bc she has a pinto coat lol), and that becomes her main way of traveling for work.

Outside of work though, Wis likes taking walks! Just a nice gander around town.

18. What’s their favourite holiday?

The Winter Solstice! It's just a nice time where everyone has fun together and celebrates the accomplishments of the last year. And with good eats, of course.

(When they're dating, Wis might be able convince Qi to go out for once and watch the fireworks with her on the roof of the research center <3)

20. What’s their family like? Are they close with them?

Wis's Pa and his family are mostly farmers. All of them are known to be a bit goofy, which is absolutely where Wis got a lot of her silliness from. It's a tradition for everyone in his family to be named after plants, and also to loudly declare "That's me!!" whenever in the presence of the plant(s) they're named after.

Wis's Ma and her family don't have a 'gimmick' like her Pa's family, but they're largely based in Walnut Groove and a bunch of them are artisans of some kind. Wis's Ma was actually who first encouraged Wis to be a builder! She's a tailor, and Wis set her up as a penpal with Vivi pretty quickly.

Wis doesn't have any siblings, but she and Nia hung out so much when they were little they're practically sisters. She'd love to go back and visit sometime...but there's no rest in Sandrock.

Also a question directed to her: when did you realize you had feelings for our dear Director? 😳😳😳

Wisteria: At first I thought he was just another weird researcher. The ones from Vega 5 are always the kookiest. He wasn't really giving me a whole lot of reasons to like him. Blunt, dismissive... And he basically was giving me relic fetching errands back to back. But!

Then the bridge job happened. I handed him that power core and all of a sudden, it was like I was talking to someone else. I never thought he was even capable of grinning like that. That's when I realized there was something more to him.

And I'd find out what that was pretty soon. I found the telescope, and as soon as Qi saw it, he started gushing about it at a mile a minute. Uh, but then he kicked me off the roof and didn't let me use it, and I got mad, but... The next day, he...he apologized. Genuinely. And then I realized that we had something really big in common.

Both of us...we have so much enthusiasm for what we do and what we like that it's bursting from the seams...but we never really had anywhere to apply it back where we came from. My workshop closed down and I had to work for hire, he could never get his doctorate and nobody would let him work for their labs. But now that we were here in Sandrock, we had the chance.

That was when I started talking to him more. Whenever he started rambling, I'd always let him talk. Even if I didn't understand a single word he said, heh. In my head, I told myself that I wanted to give him opportunities to share what he was working on, since no one else in town seemed to get it. And, I mean...that's not untrue...

But, um...

Well, I...

...I also...just liked seeing him smile.

[Wisteria is covering her face and blushing.]

aaaaaaaaa