#impulse drew this when i was trying to get to sleep

[ramcycle]

'cause the tricks in your head are a lie

(//cw blood)

[vixstarria]

A night at the inn (part 3)

Vampire bites as an aphrodisiac edition

Part 1 (fluff to smut) ~ Part 2 (just smut) (Is it required reading? Ehh... But you might as well, no?)

This one gets a bit deranged.

Astarion x F!Tav/F!Reader x Halsin

18+, smut, threesome, porn no plot, dirty talk, oral sex, PIV, blood drinking, soft dom Astarion, Astarion being a little shit, Halsin being rudely awakened in order to fuck nasty style again

Approx. 3,000 words this time (I uh... I don't know)

AO3

The first thought in your mind when you regained consciousness was “did that really happen?”, along with a flashback to the two elves in and around you. Halsin’s gentle, towering bulk. And Astarion finally allowing you to pleasure him, if only a little bit.  

You picked up the sound of Halsin snoring on the other bed. His favoured wildshape was all too fitting - he certainly sounded like a bear now. Weren’t elves supposed to trance? Silently? 

...So it happened. It really happened. ...It was going to be an interesting day.  

You opened your eyes. 

Astarion was already awake, lying beside you and admiring you through his lashes, a light smile on his face. It deepened when you met his gaze.  

Your immediate impulse was to ask him about last night, but you held your tongue, instead looking for answers in his eyes.  

No darkness, nothing that resembled shame or regret... Only warmth and affection as he softly ran the back of his fingers down your cheek until they reached your chin, to gently tilt it towards him, drawing you for a kiss.  

It was soft at first. Just your lips brushing and lingering on each other’s, until with a soft sigh he drew you in deeper. 

He traced the inner edge of your upper lip with his tongue. It tickled, and you parted your lips, letting him in. You tried to brush your tongue against his, but he retracted it as soon as you moved. Only once you held still did he return with his tongue, running it in circles around the tip of yours, running it up your tongue’s underside, teasing. It was so distinct, it was almost... 

You gasped with a sharp intake of breath when you realised what he was doing.  

These were the motions of your tongue on the head of his cock last night. This whole kiss was a vulgar, teasing reminder of what you’d done for him. His way of showing you that he hadn’t forgotten about it, that it’s been on his mind. 

Gods... It felt so obscene. 

You moaned as he brought your naked body closer to his partially clothed form, holding you close, a fire starting to reignite between your legs already.  

His lips split into a grin in the knowledge that you’d caught on, and he broke the kiss, giving you an unabashed look full of lust. 

“Will you let me do it again?” you whisper, hoarsely. 

“In time...” he replied. “For now there’s more I want to do to you.” 

“To me?” 

He grinned, mischievously, then glanced at Halsin’s sleeping mass.  

“For both of us to do to you, actually. If you want to try something new?” 

“Now?” 

“Why not?” 

“For one, Halsin's still asleep,” you said. Astarion rolled his eyes at you.  

“Psst, Halsin. ...Halsin. ...Halsin! ...HALSIN!” Astarion hurled a pillow at the groggy druid, who somehow managed to catch it in midair before it smashed into his face. 

“Hmm?” a low rumble reverberated in his chest as he stirred awake.  

“Do you want to try something?” 

“...What?” 

“It’s a yes or no question.” 

“...Yes.” 

Halsin, still half-asleep, opened his eyes to observe the two of you as Astarion turned back to you, rolling on top and continuing in a louder voice.  

“See? Problem solved. Anyway. I was thinking... You say your body stays sensitive around the puncture wounds for a long time after I bite you,” he said, running his fingers delicately along the wounds on your neck. 

“It’s still tender,” you nodded, relishing his touch. 

“Tender how?” he asked softly, lowering his lips to the marks on your neck.  

“It feels... sweet. Like I don’t want you to ever stop touching it,” you said, closing your eyes and revelling in the sensation. “I don’t know how else to describe it.” 

“A vampire’s bite has aphrodisiac properties,” offered Halsin. “It is well-known.” 

“What if I were to bite you somewhere more... interesting.” Astarion began to kiss further down, grazing you with his fangs without drawing blood. Halsin, more awake now, propped himself up on his elbow to lie on his side.  

“Where?” you breathed as Astarion continued on his way down, pausing to suck on a nipple. He only smiled and kept trailing soft kisses down your stomach, gradually pulling the covers off you as he went lower, until he reached your upper inner thighs.  

“What if...” he purred, starting to run his tongue along your outer folds, making you moan and spread your legs wider for him. “I left a gentle little bite right here...” He continued to run his tongue on your skin, just between your opening and your thigh. “Do you think you would like that..?” Before you could answer, he added: “Oh, and it’s incredibly distracting when you’re so wet while I’m trying to talk to you,” before plunging his tongue inside you as you gasped.  

“Did you wake me merely so I could watch?” Halsin asked, reaching down to stroke his growing erection. 

Astarion gestured for him to wait. 

“Do it,” you moaned. “Bite me there.” 

Astarion continued to lap at your hole, running his hands along your thighs, holding them open.  

“Stop teasing, damn you!” you hissed. 

Astarion chuckled and moved his head to lick you just outside your opening, sucking your lip into his mouth. Suddenly his grip on your thighs tightened and before you knew it, you felt a sharp icy pang. You whined as he continued to suck, this time drawing blood. The pain quickly dissipated and turned into a titillating sensation that spread throughout your sex.  

Astarion lifted his head, sitting up and inserting two fingers into you.  

“Now how does that feel, darling?” 

“Good... So good...” you groaned, spreading your legs wider for him, bucking your hips to ride his fingers. It felt like an insatiable, throbbing itch, his fingers your only salvation. 

“I must tell you,” you heard Halsin. “I overheard some of your remarks about wood elves earlier. And you would do well to trust me that few of my brethren are as depraved as you.” 

Astarion ignored the druid, absorbed in watching you writhe.  

“Do you like it? Do you want more? You do, don’t you... We can give you more...” You whimpered as Astarion continued to slowly fuck you with his fingers. “But first... What if I bite you somewhere else?”  

His tongue returned between your legs, licking higher and higher, until it circled your bundle of nerves.  

“Just a tiny little nick, right above your sweet nub. I’ll be very careful, I promise,” he murmured right against your clit, in between licks, as you mewled. “I’ll be gentle... And then I’ll kiss it better. I’ll kiss it, lick it, suck it better...” 

“I stand corrected... None of my people can rival you in perversion,” said Halsin. 

Meanwhile, your fingers were tangled in Astarion’s hair as he continued to tease you with his fingers and tongue. As good as it felt, the only word in your mind was ‘more’.  

“Do it,” you say, hoarsely. “I want to know how it feels.” 

Astarion chuckled, turning to Halsin. 

“You druids have an intrinsic urge to tend to helpless creatures in need, do you not?” Astarion said, as Halsin continued to stroke himself. “This helpless creature is about to be in great need.” He looked up at you, hungrily. “Try to hold still, my love.” 

This time the pang made you yelp and lurch up in shock, your hands grabbing at the bedsheets. But the pain subsided as quickly as it came on, replaced by an unquenchable burning need.  

It throbbed. It pulsed. It begged to be touched.  

Astarion did as he promised licking and sucking on your clit, his cool tongue like a salve, but before you could find any kind of release, he abruptly rose, pinning your arms above your head as you groaned in protest. 

“My, look at this predicament you’ve gotten yourself into again, pet...” 

“Please... please... anything... I’ll do anything you say.” you begged. Your need could not be ignored like this. You tried to squeeze your legs together for some friction, but he was keeping your legs spread open with his own thighs. Maybe if you told him what you wanted he would cut this agony short..? “Touch me... Fuck me... Anything..!” 

“What did I tell you?” he said, turning to Halsin. “But my sweet,” he said turning back to you. “You said you wanted to know what it felt like. Maybe we should leave you like this so you can study and savour the sensation.” 

“Astarion?” you managed, swallowing hard. 

“Yes, darling?” 

“Fuck you, Astarion,” you hissed through your teeth. You turned to the druid, looking him in the eyes and bucking your hips in desperation. “Halsin..?”  

“Give her to me,” the druid growled. 

“Oh no! There will be no mutiny! Make no mistake, I’m still the one calling the shots here,” Astarion laughed. “...But seeing as you’re all so eager – sure.” He released your hands and raised you into a sitting position. “On the edge of the bed,” he gestured to Halsin, the druid complying without another word. “And you...” he held you by your jaw, his voice lowering. “I’ll let that slip by, but if you want me to allow you any relief, you will behave.” 

You nodded, whimpering. 

“Now do you want to ride his cock?” 

“Yes,” you panted. Astarion just raised an eyebrow and didn’t make a move. “Yes, please, can I?” 

“She’s yours,” he said to Halsin, with a smirk. 

Suddenly you were lifted and found yourself on the druid’s lap on the opposite bed, your back against him, both of you facing Astarion.  

“You can fuck that needy hole of hers all you want, but don’t touch her between her legs,” he said, reclining to admire his handiwork. 

You were gliding your slit along Halsin’s shaft, covering his erection with your juices. It was something, but not nearly enough. 

Halsin lifted you and began to ease you onto his cock, once again slowly, inch by inch.  

“You don’t need to be so gentle,” you groaned.  

“No no, slow and gentle is exactly what she deserves right now,” Astarion interjected, as you swore under your breath. “And don’t you dare touch yourself,” he said to you. You knew better than to defy him, and clutched at Halsin instead. 

Halsin’s hands remained on the undersides of your thighs, your legs opened wide for Astarion’s devouring eyes, gripping you as he worked his cock inside you, raising and lowering your body along his length. It was agonisingly slow, and though it appeased the itch from Astarion’s lower bite, somewhat, it did nothing for your throbbing clit.  

“You said you’d kiss it better, you fucking liar,” you threw at Astarion, your voice thick.  

“What did I say about behaving?” said Astarion.  

“Astarion, it hurts without you,” you groaned. “Please? My love..? I’m begging you.” 

Astarion sighed dramatically, finally getting off the bed to kneel on the floor in front of you. 

“Well we don’t want you in pain,” he murmured.  

Finally, you felt Astarion’s mouth on your swollen sex, as he stroked your clit with his tongue. A moan tore from your throat as Halsin sped up the bucking of his hips, his thrusts in time with the strokes of Astarion’s tongue. This. This was what you had been craving so badly. The druid stretched and filled you completely, while Astarion’s tongue brought you to the edge of madness. And you could do absolutely nothing but accept and embrace what was happening to you. It wasn’t long before your whole body convulsed with the force of your orgasm, Halsin holding you tightly against him.  

Once you’d regained your senses, you noticed that somewhere along the way Astarion had completely discarded his pants, and was now stroking himself with one hand, as he rubbed a thumb over your oversensitive clit.  

“Hmm,” he hummed, studying it. “I don’t think it’s better yet.” 

You nearly screamed as he went right back to sucking on it, alternating that with quick flicks of his tongue. 

“Shh, sweet one...” Halsin breathed in your ear, placing a hand over your mouth, and lifting your hand into his hair with the other. “Yank on it hard if it’s too much. Can you do that?” You whimpered a ‘mmhmm’ as you grabbed a fistful. 

Halsin leaned back on the bed so you were half-lying on top of him, your head thrown over his shoulder, as Astarion held your thighs open. 

Astarion showed you no mercy as he lapped at you. Halsin sped up again, as you let out keening moans into his hand, losing your mind. There was no easing and relaxing into this - this orgasm was forced out of you, and you loved every second of it. Within a minute you came again, your thighs twitching violently.  

Halsin groaned as you spasmed around him again. 

“I cannot do this anymore... If she clenches around me like that again I will lose it.” 

The druid slipped out of you and you were once again gliding along the length of his shaft, rubbing yourself against it.  

Astarion lifted his mouth from you, wiping your wetness from his chin, as Halsin raised you back into a sitting position. 

“He’s been so very patient with you, pet. Do you want to show your appreciation?” 

“How?” you whispered, licking your lips. 

“I think you already know how,” he murmured. “Come here. On your knees.” 

You all but collapsed on the floor next to Astarion, your legs unsteady, looking up at Halsin.  

“Taste him,” Astarion encouraged you. “You haven’t yet.” 

“Oakfather preserve me,” Halsin groaned as you took his engorged, leaking cock into your hand. You were facing a dilemma. You didn’t think you could fit him into your mouth without dislocating your jaw. Instead you began by licking your juices off his length, savouring your own taste.  

“Good girl,” Astarion purred next to you, sliding two fingers into your still throbbing pussy, as he stroked himself with his other hand.  

You moaned and moved up to the head of Halsin’s cock with your mouth, licking up his precum, as the druid brushed your hair off your face and held it back for you. No, this wasn’t going to work. Instead you worked him with your hand as you moved down to lick and suck on his balls.  

“I’m close,” Halsin groaned, throwing his head back, his fingernails scraping against your scalp. 

“Suck on the head,” Astarion whispered beside you, continuing to dig his fingers into you, rougher now. “You can manage it.” 

You moaned as you worked the tip of his penis into your mouth, slurping and sucking around it, wetly. This much you could do.  

“Good...” Astarion whispered hoarsely, moving behind you. He was starting to shudder as he bit down on your shoulder, not hard enough to draw blood, continuing his efforts to tear another orgasm out of you. He couldn’t have been far himself. “Make him come.” 

Halsin’s cock twitched and pulsed in warning as you continued, the druid’s grip on your hair tightening.  

“Swallow,” Astarion commanded, just as the druid finally spilled in your mouth. You glimpsed a few more strokes of Astarion’s hand from the corner of your eye, and you felt Astarion’s spend land in spurts on your back.  

You sat back with a frustrated groan. His fingers inside you hadn’t been enough. 

“My poor little minx...” Astarion murmured, catching his breath, kissing your neck up to your ear from behind you. “I know what you need. You’ve earned it.” He moved his hand to finally rub your clit again, massaging it roughly and deliberately. “Can you come for me one more time?” he whispered in your ear. “And here, let me taste him too.” 

You came completely undone once Astarion’s tongue swirled hungrily against yours, as he continued to methodically work on your swollen clit, moaning and whimpering into his mouth through your climax.  

“I don’t think I can walk,” you said a short while later, relaxing in Astarion’s embrace after he'd cleaned the better part of your combined cum from your body. It was mid-morning by then. Miraculously, no one had come to bang on your door to try to get a move on, but then again anyone in the vicinity of the room would’ve immediately understood what was happening inside. 

“Shall I go tell everyone you’re unwell, darling?” Astarion asked with a grin. 

“Don’t you fucking dare speak to anyone about this or me, you’re staying right here,” you said as he laughed “...I don’t think they will be impressed that we’re all delayed because I’ve been fucked into incapacity,” you added.  

“Oh on the contrary, I think they will be VERY impressed,“ said Astarion. 

“I’ll go tell them you’re currently indisposed. ...A tad more tactfully. And I’ll see to it that a bath is prepared for you,” said Halsin, getting up and getting dressed. 

“Thank you, Halsin... You are a blessing,” you said, shutting your eyes and falling back against Astarion as he left kisses along the side of your face.  

Halsin hesitated at the door.  

“Before I leave this room, I must know... Once this door shuts behind me, is... this-” he gestured at the three of you, “staying behind as well? Or can the future hold something for us?” The druid would accept whichever answer you gave him, but you could tell he was a hair’s breadth from a pained expression.  

You and Astarion exchanged a look. You had gotten good at silent communication. It was Astarion who finally spoke.  

“It doesn’t have to stay behind. You’ve been better for us than you might realize,” he shook his head with a small smile. “But let’s talk about that later.”  

“I am glad,” Halsin said, smiling, before leaving. 

“You think catnip is difficult to live down?” You groaned again, once Halsin was gone, twisting and hiding your face in Astarion’s neck. 

“You should be proud,” he chuckled, hugging you tighter. “How do you feel..?” 

“Fine, right now... It still throbs a bit, but I can ignore it. But it's been coming on in waves, I don’t know if there’s another coming or how big it might be.” 

“Let me know if one does, I’ll take care of you,” he whispered, kissing you.  

“Astarion?” you murmured, breaking the kiss. 

“Hmm?” 

“Can we do this again? Just the two of us? Later.”  

You both knew what you meant by ‘later’. 

“Greedy...” he smiled. “But yes. Once all this is behind us and we can just lounge in bed all day and night.” 

“I can’t wait,” you whispered. 

~~~~~

Astarion's, Halsin's and Tav's story together continues in 'Sweat'

AO3

Series masterlist

~~~~~

Tags: @twirlywhirlywriting - Hi! You are the reason this happened. I wasn't really planning on a part 3, but it clicked in my brain. Hope it's close enough to what you had in mind. I couldn't really give Halsin a more dom role though, as I think Astarion would lose his shit at this point.

@littleenglishfangirl @something-pithy

[whereispearlescentmoon]

A ficlet based on the idea that the snails just hang around after the end of the session and also reflect their respective players true feelings. (yes I saw the one someone made earlier about Pearl’s snail with Gem but I had this written already and I’m not gonna not post it just because someone else posted the idea first.)

Pearl was, frankly, sick and tired of the snails. She kept checking the seams of their new base to ensure that nothing can get in. Her fingernails had bits of debris caught underneath them from each time she ran them over the corners, over the grout holding the cobblestone walls together, over everything. Grian said the snails won’t want to kill them anymore, but Pearl wasn’t taking any chances. Cleo and Scott seemed content to have theirs hanging around, and even Impulse wasn’t as wary, but while she thought they were cute at first, it’s a little less cute when they’ve killed you twice.

“Aw look at it! It loves Scott!” Cleo cooed happily. Pearl was actually trying very hard NOT to look at Cleo’s especially. Like Cleo, it was stitched together of green undead flesh. But unlike Cleo, Pearl had no affection for it and thus her disgust overpowered anything else. When she did take a glance at her teammates, Scott was happily patting ZombieSnail’s shell as it snuggled into him. Snailjor was similarly content to curl up against Cleo, who was petting it almost like a cat.

Impulse was reacting a bit more normally in Pearl’s opinion. ISnail was following him around as he changed into a more comfortable set of clothes to sleep in (cargo shorts are very practical, but not very soft), occasionally nudging at Impulse’s ankle. It made Pearl ache to be back on Hermitcraft, with Olive getting in her way as she tidied up. They had to stay the normal length of the session though, even if they had cut the killing short. It would be a few more days before anyone could go anywhere.

Then there was Pearl’s own snail. It was, frankly, nowhere to be seen. It seemed to want as little to do with her as she did with it. Oh well. Another soul bound (that is what Grian had called them, right? It seemed like he was making things up to torment Pearl specifically at this point) rejecting her. Whatever.

Maybe she had spoken too soon, she thought, as a light rustling came from outside the walls. It was followed by the sound of those stupid propellers the things had been using to fly around all session.

“I’m not in the mood, dude,” Pearl called out, as she, like Impulse, searched their chests for the sleep shorts she had brought. As her back was turned, she could hear the snail still approaching, and sighed as its cold and slimy body nudged against her leg. “Seriously, can you just-“

Her words caught in her throat as she looked down at the snail. Instead of the brown shell, navy blue jacket, and oddly long hair that she had been running from all session, there was a light orange shell and little set of overalls. Gem’s then. Pearl crouched beside it, eying it suspiciously. She still really didn’t get why Gem was so angry at her, but it couldn’t be a good sign that her murder snail was here.

“What’s up little Gem?” Pearl asked, putting her hand out. The snail, predictably, bit her, drawing blood with its oddly sharp teeth. Pearl drew back with a yelp, curling the hand into her jacket. “Dang it! Jeez Louise Gem, if you wanted to kill me outside of session time, wait till we’re back home at least,”

And home had been odd, frankly. It seemed like Gem might have been avoiding her on Hermitcraft. The Life Series wasn’t normally like that. It got kind of fuzzy when you weren’t in the server proper. Only a couple of weeks after Pearl had slaughtered them both in Double Life, she had been planning with Impulse and laughing with Cleo. She had done some clean up for Scar the same week she had put up a wall between her and the Clockers. Hell, even right after Secret Life her and Gem had hung out like nothing was the matter, chatting about the series casually. Something about being back here had dug up feelings Gem had clearly chosen not to address with her, and could Pearl really be blamed for that? No, she decided, and she wouldn’t take Gem’s snail letting out those feelings like this either.

“Whoa, what happened?” Scott had come rushing over at Pearl’s yelp. She sighed, gesturing with her now bleeding finger. Scott hissed through his teeth, “Woof, that’s nasty. What did you do to tick off Gem’s snail?”

Pearl growled, frustrating welling up. “The same thing I’ve done to Gem! Nothing! It came up to me to bite me! I literally didn’t do anything!”

Scott put his hands up, looking for all the world like he didn’t believe her.

“Alright, alright, let me look at that finger then, don’t want it to get infected. You’ve already lost more lives than you can afford.” His tone was joking, but Pearl couldn’t help but be a little hurt. She wasn’t trying to lose lives! Really! She didn’t want to win, but she didn’t want to go out first. It was just hard with the wild cards to find her normal footing.

Usually in these games her biggest strength was the ability to hide and outlast her opponents, but the twists had made that impossible. She was a good fighter, could hold her own when inevitably there was only a handful of people left and she had to fight, but she usually avoided getting involved until then. Now, she might be dead before those final bloodbath days, when the whole server was red and all was going to hell, even happened.

While Scott took the time to properly clean out the cut, the snail nudged at Pearl’s ankle again. She shook it off with a frustrated huff.

“See what I mean? It’s trying to come up to me! What am I supposed to do about that?” Scott finished wrapping her finger and looked down at the snail, which seemed frankly uninterested in him, beady green eyes fixated on Pearl alone.

“Maybe it’s like an abused cat,” he proposed, “It wants to show you affection but when you do it back, it starts hissing and biting. You’ve just got to let it come to you and pretend you don’t even notice it,”

“Or, we could leave it outside the base and hope it goes back to Gem?” She suggested, hopefully. Scott gave her an exasperated look.

“Didn’t it fly over the wall to get her in the first place?” Pearl pouted and huffed, crossing her arms.

She titled her head to get a good look at the snail. Her right eye had gone red tinted and it made it harder to see out of, forcing her to crane her neck at odd angles to see with the left. The Gem snail had come crawling back and was circling the log Pearl had sat down on. Every subsequent circle, it got closer and closer, until it was brushing Pearl’s leg. Finally, as Pearl sat still so as to not provoke another attack, it settled on the log beside her, leaning its weight against her thigh. Pearl ignored it pointedly, holding back a shudder at the weird feeling of its slug-like body.

It wasn’t until the next morning that the Gem snail finally left. Pearl had barely been able to sleep, halfway between comforted and afraid of the thing snoozing beside her. She didn’t want to provoke it. She hadn’t wanted to provoke Gem. Maybe she was doing all of this wrong. Or maybe Gem was. Either way, she just wanted to go home and have things be normal again.

Somewhere, in the forest, Pearlescentsnail found a tree and climbed up it to sleep. She looked around, making sure there was no one else there, sank into her shell, and stayed there until the session ended. She went out alone.

[m3ntally-unstable]

can you write a drew starkey x fem!reader imagine where drew has a crush on the reader and he has for a while, but he doesn't think the reader likes him back until one day he like drunk confesses or just impulsively tells her? <3

A/N : Yes I will try (I’ve never written before) I’m sorry I’m so late on this I’m just so nervous to write stuff 😭😭

I love you..

Drew starky x fem!Reader

Warnings:- drinking,use of y/n , drew being drunk most of the time, some insta posts (tell me if I’m missing anything.)

__________________________________________

having a well-known acting career and appearing in TV series such as Vampire Diaries, Stranger Things, and Ginny and Georgia, I've had my fair share of romantic relationships and crushes on coworkers.

I have had both positive and negative emotions from every person I have dated. Nonetheless I still have a lot of my partners as friends, though.

When I got casted on outerbanks, I was already working on a project which required all of my time in another state in a whole ,leading to me having to decline the role.

After finishing said project , and sulking over not excepting the offer i got a call from my agent telling me that I was getting handed a role,a really good one .No audition needed. As the love interest of a rich playboy (wonder who that is).

———//———//———//———//———//———//—

“What exactly is the show again?…” I asked annoyed that I was being disturbed from my beauty sleep.

“Firstly I never told you aaand secondly it’s for.. outerbanks!”

What.

The show I declined? The show that made me regret doing my previous project instead of it? The show where my college crush- AHEM. right where was I

“Hellooo? You there y/n?..”

“Uhhh yeah sorry. You can call back and say yes”

“I already did. I was just telling you”

“Wow oka-“

——————————————————————-

Originally I believed that when I joined the cast of the outerbanks drew starkey would forget about me, but judging off of the happy smile on his face when he saw me or how his eyes softened when I talked about something I was interested in told me otherwise. I was finally gonna tell him. Tell him I l-

Actually I just shouldn’t go! Yeah. Why face the embarrassment of drew not feeling same! Yeah that’s smar-

Ting!

Madisyn bby

Girl, we need to go shopping for

Dresses ASAP . It’s already 3

And the party IS AT 9

You

Woah woah ok I’ll

Meet you out in 5😭

Madisyn bby

That’s what I thought

You

Yeah yeah 😒

Madisyn bby

GET READY!!

Read 12:45

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“Ok , red or black?” I asked with hesitation on the choices i had just tried on. “Definitely black girl, you look so hot” madisyn replied “maybe match it with some green?” Elaine said “that would look so good” Maddie added with a wink towards Elaine.

“Hey hey what’s up with the winking” I asked panicked “oh you know just Drew’s favourite colour..” madisyn mumbled out. I felt my eye twitching at the three of them I felt the heat rise up to my cheeks

“god you guys” I blushed and ran into the changing room soon hearing the laughter of the 3 girls.

“You don’t need to be embarrassed girlie pop” Elaine teased “easy for you to say your already dating someone ” I whined

———————————————————————Elameeeee

°

°

Liked by y/nuser and 21,992 others

elameeeee had too much fun shopping with my girls for season wrap party

Y/nuser I will find you.

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———————————————————————————————————

As soon as I walked into the venue of the party the only that came to mind was my insecurities. Would Drew ever like someone like me? Someone who isn’t as pretty as his ex’s?

Instead of overthinking maybe I should just drink it away .yeah that sounds goo-

“Y/N!”

God what is with people and interrupting me today?! I turned around and looked around not seeing anyone who seemed to be calling my name

“Over here!” I turned a bit to the right and saw

Drew.

Oh my. No no no. I’m not ready yet I was still in the middle of overthinking.

He came running up to me with the cutest grin on his face “hey.” He said out of breath “hi Drew” I responded while looking down because I could feel the blood rushing up.

“You- uh you look beautiful ” he stuttered out after actually taking a good look at my dress. If I wasn’t blushing earlier I sure am now.

“You don’t look half-bad yourself starkey” I giggled out trying to regain my confidence.

I couldn’t help but notice the small blush spread across his face after hearing my comment. God that’s so embarrassing, why did I even say that.

“DREW MY MAN!” I hear non other than Rudy come up. Rudy was nice , I saw him as my best friend, like a brother, Rudy and I were two pods in a pea, me and him grew up together in Atlanta and only moved apart because of high school, we still often texted and chatted but it never felt the same as being with him in person

“RUDY!” I squealed

“Y/n!” He rushed into my arms and pulled me into his into his tight embrace “oh my god , I missed you so much”

He chuckled “I missed you too n/n” he pulled back “look at you, miss hell on wheels”

“You guys know eachother?” Drew asked “yeah, me and Rudy grew up together” I responded Rudy agreeing with me “oh okay..”

“So um let’s head inside?”

———————————————————————

It was currently 1:25 am and observing how everyone was almost knocked out , except for jd and me obviously, who else was going to take care of them?

“I’ll order a Uber for Rudy and Elaine , you should stay with drew,the girls and me , it’s not a problem” JD offered

“Yeah That’d be great , thank you jd” he nodded

Now , the biggest challenge of all, getting them back to the apartment. Sigh, why am I even here.

“Drew come on , let’s go”

“Ughnnn, no I don’t wanna” he wrapped his arms around my waist and stared into my eyes

“Drew-” he put his head into the crook of my neck. God I can feel his breath. It’s okay , just get him back to the apartment and done

“Y/n Come on let’s go!” JD honked from the car

“Come on drew” I practically dragged him out, but what surprised me that he didn’t let go. “Drew let go”

“Nghhhh” he somehow just cuddled in deeper to me

This is going to be a long night.

———————————————————————

Having to drag this 80kg man down a hallway into a bed is like doing bodybuilding.

“Come on Drew go to bed”

“Don’t leaveeeee” he whined

I sighed out of frustration, “okay cmon big boy let’s go to bed” I stepped into bed and stayed on my side of the bed, not wanting it to be awkward.

He tried wrapping his arms around me “heyyy, come closer”

“Drew what has gotten into you” I mumbled, as he wrapped his arms around my waist and stuffed his head into the crook of my neck like earlier today

“You know drew im so gonna make fun o-”

“Do you and Rudy have something going on” he spoke clearly for the first time that night.

WHAT?!

“What are you on about drew.” He still waited for a response “no!” He sighed like he was holding his breath and leaned back into my shoulder.

“I love you” his voice came muffled but , I knew what he said, if it wasn’t so dark , he would’ve seen how red I’d become just from that one comment

“Drew come on your drunk-”

He lifted his head “I mean it.”

Oh my god. Is the world spinning? I can’t breathe!. Okay , no calm, he’s drunk he doesn’t mean it. Your okay yea-

Suddenly I felt lips on mine, it took me a moment to realise what was happening and I kissed back. no this is wrong, I pulled away

“Drew we can’t do this.. not again”

“Y/n , I know you feel it, please.”

I paused thinking of what to say , hearing him plead with his puppy eyes under the moonlight was intoxicating

“Drew your drunk, I won’t do anything, until I know you mean it”

Drew didn’t respond, he slowly made a Noice of confirmation and understood where I was coming from and put his head back down to its original position.

I knew he wasn’t sleeping but it was peaceful knowing we were just lying there. I felt my eyes get heavy but before I let slumber take me I said

“Hey drew..”

“Hmm”

“Tell me that again tomorrow”

I felt him smile against my neck and muzzle into me more

“Ofcourse”

———————————————————————-

The next morning , i woke up with Drew still having his arms wrapped around me and a particular instagram post that made me actually realised what was happening

Rudeth

Liked by madisynBaileybabe and 286492962 others

Rudeth saves this wiles you can people , before y/n wakes up and kills me #y/drew

@y/nuser and @drewstarkey

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———————————————————————

Not proofread

[targaryenrealnessdarling]

Happy follower milestone! Maybe an Ettore onesbot where reader is assistant to the doctor Dibs and maybe some kind of nurse kink???

Afflictions Of A Dark Nature

Thank you for the request! I hope this lives up to your expectations! This is my first time writing for Ettore so apologies if it seems OOC, I did try my best (I even re-watched High Life and will be sending the bill for emotional damages). Also get well soon @ewanmitchellcrumbs 😚

Warnings under the cut! Links to my Taglists: General Taglist | Ettore Taglist

Warnings: *deep breath* lots of swearing, mentions of past sexual encounters that may have not been consensual, fingering, dub-con, p in v sex, ass slapping, degradation, mentions of a blood test, male masturbation, oral (f receiving), creampie, cum eating, dacryphyilia, choking, kinda face slapping?, ass play, spitting, overstimulation | Word Count: 6.4k~ | dividers by @firefly-graphics

If he had to see that wrinkly, smug face of Dr Dibs again, Ettore would lose it.

He knew who he was. He wasn’t beyond acting out against women if he wanted to. It’s part of what put him here in the first place. Drifting through space, on some suicide mission that the oh-so-wise earthlings had decided it would be better to doom prisoners to death rather than qualified astronauts. Not like it mattered. He was on death-row anyway, so what loss really was it?

Only the loss of his complete sanity.

He knew that if he lashed out at anyone, even Dr Dibs, there’d be a punishment of sorts. In a way that was wholly unethical for someone who is supposed to provide care, but hey, who’s keeping track. Nobody gives a shit on earth. She could put arsenic in the water supply if she wanted to, and nobody could say a thing about it.

For the sake of at least living longer, though it made him dry-heave inside, he sweetened up, got more sleeping pills out of it as a result, which in this place was gold dust. A long, good-night’s sleep did little to take a person away from a situation like this, but it was at least something. A small mercy in a way.

Deep down, there was a need-no, an impulse that Ettore couldn’t shake. 

But before he could indulge in the memories of those needs, someone called his name.

“Ettore, is it?” 

Her voice was sweet, far too compassionate for someone stuck aboard working on this fucked up prison. And when she raised her eyebrows at him to elicit a response, she gave a polite smile. When was the last time someone smiled at him, truly?

She had a clipboard in front of her, disguising the lanyard around her neck and she wore blue scrubs, which looked the same design as the prisoners, but instead theirs were red.

Perhaps to show how dangerous they were. Hers was clinical and clean. Pure.

He wore suspicion on his face, marked with the furrow of his brows and without saying a word he stood and followed her into the infirmary. She was a head shorter than him which made him smirk when he was sure she wasn’t looking. 

All he knew was that he was grateful it wasn’t that wrinkly, smug bitch. He was sure she was doing something fucking weird to them. Just couldn’t put his finger on what.

When she drew the curtain, she let him in first, “Have a seat”

This cubicle was at least separate. And even though they’d not been on the ship for long, it looked crusty and old, with those wax linoleum floors, vile padded walls. It looked like it was going to fall apart. 

Ettore slumped into a chair next to a computer with a huff, taking in his surroundings, still trying to figure out what to make of this new person. Why hadn’t he seen her before? And she looked a lot younger than Dibs, was she even a real doctor or nurse at all?

Her hair was in a loose bun, fractionally more formal than Dibs who wore her braid like armour over her shoulder at all times. It made her look older, despite what Dibs would like to have believed. 

She sat down in front of the computer, typing in a few things, and he admired her face for a moment in silence. The way the light of the monitor reflected off the colour of her eyes, how her tongue darted out to lick her lips when she was trying to read something and how fast her fingers typed on the old, beige keyboard that was far too loud for his liking. Sounded like a clock was ticking in his brain.

He didn’t say a word. As was Ettore’s way. He was usually never one to speak first. He was an observer, seeking out the weaknesses of people as if he could simply by looking, like he could extract a little piece of them the longer he did. For her though, he couldn’t make her out.

When Ettore craned his head slowly to look, he could see she was reading his medical history and it made him feel special to know that she was finding out everything she could about him. He wished he could do the same to her. Find out all her little secrets.

“Just some general things and blood work today, nothing fancy” she says, meeting his eyes for a moment with another polite smile, the kind of smile where she’s clearly just trying to be nice, but Ettore can’t help the deep ache in his core to have a woman in front of him now, after years of not touching one. The Box was fine, sure, but there was no other feeling like a woman. Their warm, fleshy insides, each ridge within different from woman to woman.

Something knocked on the door in his mind. A sinful thought had arrived and asked how would she feel? Did she use the Box as well? Who did she think of when she touched herself?

“Roll up your sleeve for me” she instructs, holding the blood pressure monitor in her hands and tearing the velcro away. 

She meets his eyes again briefly to find him already looking at her when she leans forward to wrap it around his bicep, right over where his tattoo is. She has small, soft hands, indicative of her work. How would they feel on him, wrapped around his cock? Would her hands even surround him? That was all he could think about as she patted the cuff in place, brushing against his shoulder.

The machine whirred to life and it squeezed his arm, at the end bordering on pain which made him wince. She busied herself with typing on her computer in the meantime, the lanyard around her neck now visible, showing her name.

Got you.

When the machine beeped, she looked at the screen and put the results into his record, wheeling her chair to him again to take it off. He felt his cock get hard beneath his scrubs not just at the feel of her hands on him again, but now because of her proximity. He assumed everyone used the same soap here, she was no exception. But it smelled different on her and he inhaled a deep, long breath to commit as much of it to memory as he could.

She looked surprised when he spoke, as if she hadn’t expected him to.

“Why haven’t I seen you around”

It was hardly a questioning tone, more like an accusation. But she didn’t flinch away at it, rather, she was used to it.

She gave another polite smile, “Oh well, I’m usually in here, running all the tests Dibs gives me” she explains, getting her additional tools ready for the blood test, “But she wanted more help with ‘menial’ tasks like this, is how she put it” she says with a short, quiet huff of a laugh, like she thinks the reasoning was poor.

“So now you’re doing poor sod’s blood tests?” 

She nodded, “Something like that” 

Her tools were lined up, a tourniquet, a syringe and some cotton swabs. She pulled a pair of blue gloves on and moved her chair closer to him. 

“So you’re gonna poke at me?” he asks, half-amused, like he’s testing her.

She cleans the area around his arm with alcohol, a puff of air coming out her nose in a quiet laugh, tightening the tourniquet on him “Just seeing if you have good veins” she says, running her thumb over the pale skin of his arm, clearly finding a vein she was happy with.

Dr Dibs always missed his vein at least once, and he’d clench his fist as the needle went in. He wasn’t into drugs, like a lot of other prisoners here, so he wasn’t used to the prickly feeling. He found pleasure in other ways he deemed fit.

“Just a scratch” she mutters, inserting the needle beneath his skin, smiling to herself when blood goes into the bottle. First time. 

Ettore watched the vial fill with rich, thick blood, and then watched her, “You seem a bit young to be a doctor”

"Technically I'm a Junior Doctor" she replies, concentrating on his blood flow before meeting his eyes again. She seems to look at him deeply, her pupils flirting across his face now that they're so close to each other. He hears every little breath, every movement of her throat as she swallows thick, like she's nervous. And everytime her tongue darts out to wet her lips, he stares at the pinkness of it, thinking of how it would feel.

"Should I be trusting you to give me a blood test?" He teases with a wolfish grin, trying to see just how far he can push his luck.

"Hm, I don't suppose you have much choice" her smile turns a bit devilish at his quip, which quite honestly, the turn of her lips makes him want to bend her over the desk and fuck her right then and there. Wants to see what kind of sweet sounds she might make. Even the thought of it makes his cock ache.

“Suppose not”

"I'm allowed to give you blood tests" she says with a teasing smile, pulling the needle from his arm and replacing it with a cotton swab, "Hold that there for me" 

He obeys, holding it with his thumb firmly, smirking at the banter he didn't expect to have. The fact that she doesn't visibly seem afraid of him only spurs him on more. Thinking how far can he really go to make her feel uncomfortable. To make her realise just how dangerous he is, what he could do to her.

If anything he's shocked at his own restraint that he's managed this long without touching her. Such a small little thing. She wouldn’t stand a chance against him if he put his mind to it. And in those cute little scrubs as well, she doesn’t have a clue what she’s doing to him. How easy would it be to just rip right through them, to see if she was wearing anything underneath. He imagined she wasn’t, and that he’d rip them open to be greeted with her bare, soft skin, how plush and feminine her tits would be, filling his palm. He wants to squeeze them painfully, make her whine out like a slut.

His body is getting hot, blood thrumming with want.

Once the cotton swab is secured to his arm with adhesive, he can’t take his eyes off her, challenging her to meet his gaze to see what she would do.

“Why are you here?” he asks, intrigued. She doesn’t look a bit like a criminal. But he could be surprised by her and he has a feeling he will.

“That’s a personal question” she states, not losing the lazy smirk on her face at the fact he’s clearly so interested in her, “why are you here?”

“Alright, point taken”

She doesn’t prod for more information.

Holding out a clear tub to him, “You know what to do right?” she asks, clearly holding back a wider smile.

Cheeky bitch.

He snatches it from her grasp with a grin, “Now?”

Her eyebrow twitches in amusement.

“However long it takes”

A jolt goes through his body, as if a light had just come on inside. Oh, so that’s how it’s going to be.

Fucking cock tease.

He gave her a look before drawing the curtain in the cubicle, barely a few feet from where she sat. So close that he could hear her typing on her computer, hear her quiet sighs. What sweet noises would she make with his cock prodding her soft, tight insides.

Usually when he did sperm samples for Dibs, he took no enjoyment from the idea that she was essentially in the same room as him, not that it took him any less time to cum, she was still a woman and that meant something. As repulsive as she seemed. 

But when he took himself in his fist and stroked himself to hardness, teased himself with eyes softly falling shut, he imagined they were her hands. Everytime he squeezed from base to tip, reaching down with the other hand to cup his balls, wondering what her tongue would feel like dragging over every inch of him. Would she tease him? Lick his angry red tip only slightly, and that sensitive spot underneath, flattening her wet muscle over it slowly, allowing him to feel every warm and minute movement.

Without even really realising, his hand was guiding himself faster, desperate to feel the friction of her pussy choking him. Would she buck her hips to meet his desperate thrusts, or squirm away as he bullied the end of her, pushing against her cervix recklessly. He wanted her to be a good girl, and just take what he gave her. If he started, would he really truly be able to stop?

He struggled to hold in the shuddered breaths and he very nearly forgot to put the tub in front of him before finishing. A pleasant roll of warmth ran through his body, one that quickly turned into a dark, deep desire. His hand wasn't enough. He hadn’t touched a woman in so long. He wanted the real thing and she was right there. Dirty bitch was probably already wet thinking about what he was doing.

Slipping through the curtain he handed it out to her and she took it with an amused raise of her eyebrows.

“That was quick” she quipped, putting a lid on it and writing his name for the label.

Oh she’s going to get it, dirty fucking mouth.

He couldn’t hold off the sort of accomplished grin on his face, she was more fun than he thought. For a moment, he allowed himself to just simply observe her, wondering what other fun they could have.

He was growing impatient at not being able to act on those thoughts. 

“Is that it?” he asks, making her look up again.

“Unless you have any other…ailments?” Ettore doesn’t miss the way she suppresses a grin by biting the inside of her cheek. He doesn’t suppress his and feels impossibly hard once again seeing her dainty lips curl up just slightly. She must be able to see beneath the thin fabric of his scrubs, how much he wants her. Let her see, he thinks, make her squirm a bit.

He watches the way her eyes briefly run over him. It was so quick, that had he not been looking right at her, he would have missed it. She swallows, feeling like he caught her and turns away a bit, trying to hide the warm feeling that settles between her legs at the way he’s looking at her, exciting and yet dangerous at the same time.

She only hopes he doesn’t notice the way she’s squeezed her thighs together. 

“Smashing then, cheers doc” he smirks, sauntering off with a certain swagger about him, knowing that his sweet, innocent looking little doctor is all worked up. He looks over his shoulder before leaving.

The ache of the blood test is completely forgotten. Instead, all his blood is below his waist, with none left for his brain to function. It’s been a while since a woman last did this to him. Yeah he’d fucked plenty of women, some had even wanted it. But he wanted her to want it. Wanted the little slut to beg for it. To beg him to stuff her full of his cock.

That was new, he thought. But it didn’t deter him from trying to get near her when she was alone, for any chance he could get at having her all to himself. 

Annoyingly, he didn’t find the opportunity for quite some time.

Anytime he stalked past her office, there was always some other prisoner inside, having their own tests. A flash of something akin to a dark jealousy courses through his veins, his hands forming fists whenever he hears her talking in a hushed voice to another male prisoner, speaking in that way that only a doctor does.

It’s short lived, when he realises she doesn’t speak as sweetly to them as she does to him.

It feels like he’s had a hard-on for days, just merely thinking about being alone with her. It’s beginning to become painful just how much he wants it, to make her squirm for him, to make her cry. His use of the Box has increased dramatically, but the more he does it, the less the effect. His hand doesn’t do it for him anymore. He can’t replicate that tightness only a woman's cunt could give, the feeling of being sucked so desperately inside someone, being milked for all he’s worth. He dreams of it. She would take it all, he thinks, she’d be a good little slut and take it.

He thinks that if he goes there often enough, he might just run into her, drag her inside, or to a nearby hallway, or even tackle her to the floor if need be and shove himself so deep in her she won’t be able to hold back her wanton moans. He imagines holding her arms behind her back so she can’t move, brutally fucking her so hard that her hips will be bruised. 

He’s always liked walking around in the dark, even though he knows he’s not really allowed.

Tonight though, it rewards him.

A soft light emanates from her office and when he leans against the doorway to peek inside, he emits a quiet laugh through his nose, hands in pockets, just watching her.

Her hair is free of the loose bun she wore before and it trails down her back as she’s sat in her chair, leaning over a microscope. She’s so engrossed in what she’s doing and recording notes that his presence doesn’t even disturb her.

He didn’t even think about announcing his presence. He wanted her genuine reaction.

So he didn’t think twice about stalking up behind her and grabbing a fistful of her hair, yanking her back. Only a quiet gasp escaped before he slammed his palm over her mouth, muffling a surprised cry.

“Shut the fuck up” he warned with a low voice.

She froze at his words, eyes wide and breathing heavily, not even having to wonder who it was. His fingers curled painfully against her scalp, tugging her up so her back is to him. Ettore can feel her hurried breaths out her nose hitting his hand.

“Be quiet and I’ll play nice” he says against the shell of her ear, making her body shudder, drawing his hand away from her mouth.

“What the hell are you doing?” she whispers accusingly behind her as he pushes the front of her body close to the desk, the edge biting into the front of her legs. His hands run down the sides of her, sucking in the fabric to the shape of her body, growling low at finally being able to see her form underneath.

“I came to see you” he grins,

“Fucking liar”

There was something exciting about being called out like that, and about her saying such vulgar words. As sweet as she looked, he knew there was something deep inside, somewhere he wanted to prod and poke at.

“It’s your own fucking fault” he snarls, pushing his hardness against the softness of her ass. He feels her freeze up for a moment, as if she’s just putting the pieces together, “prancing about in your slutty fucking doctor’s outfit”

One hand dips beneath the hem of her scrubs, a warm sigh expelled from his chest at the softness of her stomach beneath it, trailing higher over her ribs. He can almost feel her pounding heart from here, and it does nothing to deter him, the smirk on his face evidence of that. His large palm tugs at one of her clothed breasts, slightly annoyed to see that she’s wearing a bra underneath, but he squeezes it all the same, relishing in the pained whine she lets out in response to it.

His other hand tugs her forearm almost painfully behind her, twisting it in his grip harshly. He fully knew how strong he was compared to her and couldn’t have her doing anything rash. Best to keep her hands where he can see them.

“I was just trying to be nice” she counters with a harshness to her voice, not being able to take the breathiness out of it,  “Damn sight better than what most of you deserve” she briefly struggles in his hold, that is until he tightens the clamp on her wrist. A warning.

“Careful” he warns low in her ear, “I don’t think you understand the situation right now”

“You need to get off me. Now” she tries to push her hips away from him, but at her blatant refusal, he only pushes himself closer to her, moaning softly at the friction against him and the warmth of her even with her scrubs separating them.

He resists the urge to outright laugh, and scoffs instead, “You are in no position to make demands to me. I see right through you…you want me”

She only grunts painfully in response, half-trying to tear her hand away. Not trusting herself to say anything. Ettore almost wants to laugh at how pathetically she’s trying to avoid showing how she really feels.

“How long has it been, hm?” he says, more like a growl than anything, as his hand dips beneath the waistband of her scrubs, “Since someone touched you here”

She doesn’t reply, half fighting and half giving in. But then his hand cups her clothed sex, only covered by her thin underwear and she feels his large palm rub against her, her clit throbbing with desire at not having been touched in so long. God it had been so long. His fingers tease her entrance, rubbing in circles, coaxing some slick from her.

“A while, huh?” he smirks.

“Stop it, we’ll get in trouble” she says, but it comes out a whisper, not able to hide the way his hand against her most intimate area is having such an effect on her. The heel of his palm rubs against her bundle of nerves, making her blood feel like fire in her veins, arousal pooling in her belly.

“You think I give a fuck?” he retorts, grinning, “I would have a thousand punishments if I meant I could shove my cock in your tight little hole”

“You wouldn’t”

He does laugh at that, “You wanna bet?”

Her body briefly goes rigid, trying to hold back a genuine moan when his hand dips past her underwear, and Ettore groans at the feeling of her warm, wet pussy, coating his fingers with her slick. Her eyes break closed, mouth taut into a thin line to hold in her whine, body slightly trembling at how hard she is trying to hold back.

“You talk all this shit and you’re fucking soaked for me” he grins against her ear, “is this what was under that uniform…while you were prodding and poking me?”

She gasps, her lips opening in a hurried breath as his digit sinks into her, teasing her soft, spongy walls with the calloused pads of his fingertips. She doesn’t answer him. Can’t. She can just feel herself getting warmer. It’s undeniable, the effect he has on her. And she’s not sure if she’d be wise to submit to it. 

But it’s getting harder and harder by the second not to.

“Oh, you’re filthy” he says, inserting another finger, stretching her pussy with them, softly but harshly pushing inside “getting off on taking my blood, fucking slut”

At both his words and motions, she lets out a soft and quiet moan, a pressure inside her building the more she feels his fingers caressing her warm, wet walls.

Ettore tugs down his sweatpants, freeing his cock which sits hot and heavy against the curve of her ass, the tip flushed and stood to attention against his stomach. He gives himself a few pumps, pushing forward to let her feel him. He doesn’t even bother to begin the tryst with kissing. He’s not like that.

It’s much too soft and intimate a gesture, compared to what he plans to do with her.

She turns her head, now just quietly moaning at the pleasure his fingers give her, eyes half open and a hedonistic expression on her face. She sees him pull his shirt up his chest, and then looks down, to see what exactly is pushing hard against her backside.

Before she has any time to react, his hand is curled around her nape, pushing her head flush against the table in front of her, sending the samples scattering to the floor. 

"Stop it!" She protests, trying to wiggle helplessly out his grasp, "I'll scream"

She sees him smirk, looking down at her with a half lidded lust filled gaze.

"Do it then, makes it more interesting" he shows his teeth, tugging down her scrubs song with her underwear. Now with her body flush against the table and stuck, both his hands knead the globes of her ass, his fingers leaving pink marks in their wake. He takes fistfuls, spreading them to have a proper look at her glistening pussy, just waiting for him. She whimpers at the pleasured pain it emits when his fingers hold her apart, only to turn into a surprised gasp as he kicks her ankles apart.

“Someone could walk in!” she whisper-shouts, holding her hand to her mouth to muffle any sounds when he runs the tip of his cock over her soaked folds, slapping it against her clit and smiling at her reaction.

“Let them watch then, they can see how much of a mess I’ll make of you” he purrs leaning down to press his chest against her back, “None of that either” he pulls her hand from her mouth, “I want to hear how desperate you are for me”

With her cheek flush against the table, she had to only move her eyes to look at him. Glazed over with the pupil blown wide, it betrays just how much she may or may not want it, she still doesn’t want to show him. She’s almost annoyed at his cockiness, until she feels just how big he is, teasing her ever so slightly at her entrance.

“Now let’s see what pretty noises you can make for me, hm?”

He pushes against her, parting her folds, pulling her hips towards him to sink as much inside her as he can. His heart beats faster as he feels her pussy choke him tightly, every single ridge feels like fucking magic against his cock, he feels like just finishing inside her right there. She chokes a moan, his curved member rubbing up inside her at all the right angles the further inside he goes, until he kisses the end of her with the tip, reaching places she could never with her own fingers in the Box. Her back arches slightly as he bottoms out inside her, his fingers so tight on her hips they will definitely be bruised tomorrow.

He doesn’t give her time to adjust, not even a second, as he pulls all the way out, his length covered in her slick and slams back inside with a wet smack, watching how the flesh of her ass ripples when his hips meet it.

“Oh you’re bad…” he purrs, setting a brutally quick pace. Her eyes softly shut, her front rubbing almost painfully against the stainless steel table with each hard thrust.

“Gonna have you on every fucking flat surface in this ship” he breathes, his voice hurried from the effort and how she tightens around him at his words, “you’d like that wouldn’t you….everyone watching how much of a slut you are”

She yelps out in a pained moan when he slaps her ass, gripping it after to emphasise the burn, “Answer me”

“Yes-yes…” she manages through hurried breaths, trying to control her volume but rapidly failing.

Every time he fucks into, the sheer thickness of him pushes the air out of her lungs every time, her walls stretching against him to accommodate. Ettore smirks down at the view. She lets out between a sob and a moan when she feels his spit on her puckered hole, his thumb rubbing circles against it and spreading his saliva over her sensitive skin.

It feels so right and wrong at the same time. And when he pushes a thumb inside, only making her feel more full than she already does, she can't help but buck her ass against him, wanting more friction, pleasured tears falling down her cheeks. It really had been a while since she last had sex, obviously. But nobody had been this forward and rough with her before.

“See? I know you like this…knew you wanted to fuck me the second you saw me” he mocks, giving one hard, deep thrust inside which has her squirming against him with a desperate whine, his thumb sank all the way inside her ass, the movement of their fucking aiding in stimulating that as well.

He thinks, one day he'll claim that hole of hers as well.

But not today.

He pulls out quickly and instantly tugs at her hair, turning her over so that he can see her face. She’s sat weakly up on the counter, thighs held apart for him by one of his hands. Poor thing looks tired out, he thinks, looking at her watery eyes and flushed cheeks, her head lolling back against the counters with a thud.

“Are you fucking crying?” he grins, softly slapping her cheek and grabbing her face so she looks at him, “really has been a while, huh? That’s a bit pathetic”

He practically rips the shirt off her, not even bothering to take the bra underneath off and just tugs it to the side, freeing her breasts. He groans at the sight, perky, rosy and stood to attention in the now hot office, smelling of pure, unadulterated sex. They fill his palms perfectly, and he tugs at them with his fingers, revelling in the low, chesty mewl she lets out.

It’s no effort at all the way his cock just slides into her again, slowly. Too slowly.

She feels the curve of his cock, different in this new position, every vein and ridge. His thickness splits her open until he hits the end of her, pounding mercilessly into her, making the cupboards jolt in place with each snap of his hips against her thighs, which he is keeping in his palms wide apart. Ettore grins down, watching at the way his cock disappears into her over and over, at the ripple of her soft, soft skin each time.

She arches her back against him, warm, pleasured tears pricking at her eyes the closer she gets to that tight, hot pressure in her tummy bursting. He laughs as she clenches noticeably around him,

“What is it, hm?” he sneers, “or have I fucked you stupid?”

Her moans are so desperate she really does look pathetic, “fuck…I’m gonna-”

“You gonna cum for me?” he taunts with a wide smirk, all of this just doing wonders for his ego, “now, why would I let you do that?”

“...ne-need it…”

He never lets up his pace as once hand curls into her neck, tugging her forward so that her eyes are solely on him. She moans softly at the rough action.

Pathetic.

“You gonna be a good girl and be quiet?”

She nods as best she can, his hand tightening only slightly around her neck, trying to will her voice to come out between the deafening smacks of their fucking.

“Yes..”

“Say please, then”

“Please-I need it” she begs in a horse voice.

He shoves her back roughly, smacking her head against the cupboards, watching her tits as they bounce. Truthfully, he can feel himself getting close as well, but more than anything he wants to watch her come undone on his cock. Show her just how much fun she could have with him if she just let herself.

Her cheeks are pink and her chest is dotted with warmth as the air in the office is hot and thick, even more so at the pleasurable lack of oxygen his hand around her neck gives. It makes it harder for those strained moans to pass her lips.

Every drag through her hot, ridged core sends sparks of pleasure through him, crawling up his spine. 

You first.

She sucks in a breath when he lets go of her neck, allowing his thumb into her mouth. She sucks on the digit greedily, using her tongue to coat it with saliva. Ettore almost moans at just the sight of her.

He'll have that mouth too, he thinks.

A string breaks between her mouth and her thumb as he presses it suddenly against her clit, hard. She gasps at the painful pleasure of his rough actions, swirling his thumb over her bud to bring her to that precipice first.

Her hands grip his shoulders, but he quickly tears them off him, "I didn't say you could touch me" he snarls in between devastating thrusts, drawing figures of eight on her clit and watching as she squirms.

Her hands brace the counter either side of her legs, needing something to hold onto, "...m sorry…"

"You will be fucking sorry. Stupid bitch" 

If it's possible, he moves himself into her faster, bullying that rough patch inside her with such severity that her eyebrows furrow together, her mouth open in a silent scream. She contracts around him at the combined pleasure of his cock and his stimulation to her bud, knuckles going white at her grip on the counter.

"Such a perfect pussy…never fucking using that Box again…not when I have this…" he breathes pressing his body against hers so they are flush, his nose running up the side of her neck.

"Ettore, please…"

It's not really a request, just something that passes her lips. And he knows the second he feels her clench so tightly that she's done for, when her back arches towards him and her body goes rigid for a split second.

Her teeth sink into his skin at his shoulder, muffling the scream of pleasure that threatens to escape. He knows that will be there for days and it will most definitely hurt in the morning.

A gush of arousal soaks his cock and he continues to pound into her through it, pressing his thumb into her clit, extending her little death into a devastating abyss of warmth and rapture. Her walls quiver with overstimulation around him, and he can feel the wetness of her tears on his shoulder, her desperate whines.

"Fuck-shit" Ettore pushes inside once more, hard, with a barely stifled groan, huffing a pleasured laugh at the feeling of stuffing her with his cum and the warmth that surrounds him.

He wants to stay like that forever, keeping his cum inside her with his cock. Her thighs shake slightly, and he delights in the fact that she might not be able to walk afterwards. To remind her who she belongs to, now that he's claimed her.

He calms his hurried breathing just enough to pull his rapidly softening cock from her, earning a low whine from her once she pulls her teeth from him. Her tits move slowly with her breathing, thighs still shaking ever so slightly and parted to give him a good view of the mess he's made of her.

Her arousal combined with the cum that's leaking out of her activates a primal part of his brain and he's tempted to fuck her brains out again, but knows he wouldn't be able to.

Another time.

"Look at my filthy little doctor" 

He pulls her thighs close to him, teetering on the edge of the table, and all she's able to do is make a sound of surprise, eyes widening as he sinks to his knees between her legs.

"No-no, Ettore-" she protests quickly. Her hands going back to bracing the counter tightly when she feels his warm, wet muscle lapping against her soaked folds, a combination of her climax and his swirling over his tongue with such lewdness it makes her flush bright red.

After such a recent and all-consuming orgasm, she flinches when his tongue swirls over her clit, the vibrations of his low moans against it feels much too overwhelming now.

"Please-too much-"

He runs his tongue flat over her core, groaning at the combined taste of them and lapping up whatever leaks out of her. He could spend fucking days between her legs if she tastes like this all the time. Her arousal is so sweet and tart, musky when combined with his. Mixed with his cum, he thinks, she's made to be fucked by him. Made to be filled.

Fucking her with his tongue through her fluttering walls, her hand cards through his hair, tugging. To push him away or to bring him closer, she's torn between the two. The warmth of his mouth against her is just too tempting to want him to stop and when he moves his face side to side, his sharp nose nuzzling against her already over-used clit…

"Fuck! Please-"

The orgasm that rocks through her body blazes every nerve in its path, all the way down to the way his tongue is still lapping and sucking her juices, as if she's the best thing he's tasted since boarding this hellscape of a ship. He takes every bit of essence, sighing and moaning, with a grip so iron on her thighs, she can't move even if she wanted to.

Ettore rises to his feet, giving one more flattened lap over her core, sucking at her clit, which makes her twitch. Her glazed over, wettened eyes meet his, the blue almost entirely encompassed by black. He looks like an animal who's just tasted blood again after a long time of being caged. She doesn't entirely know why, but it makes her throb with desire, and it frightens even her to know that such a dangerous man, a criminal no less, is making her feel this way.

It makes her think, is she any better for enjoying it as much as she did.

He looks down at her, almost entirely bared to him, his reddened marks blossoming over her skin in early bruises. Her fucked-out face, a mix of lust and confusion, with that tell-tale pink to her cheeks.

A dangerous grin widens across his face.

"I meant it you know…" he says, dark and low, "...I'm not using that fucking Box ever again"

General Taglist: @risefallrise @valeskafics

Ettore Taglist:

*Let me know if you want to be added to any taglist! Bold means I couldn’t tag, if I can't tag you you can always turn on notifications for when I post. DM me if you wanna be removed besties

[letsgetrowdy43]

Lucy loves reading at night and when Connor spends the night he asks her to read to him.

Au Masterlist!!

I think the first night he ever stays in her apartment is such a big deal to the both of them because it's the first relationship-like intimate thing they ever did.

She had just returned to her apartment, after a long night in the university library, with tired eyes as she dropped her book bag on her kitchen counter trying to be careful not to wake her sleeping roommates.

She finally opened her phone to see the final score of the Blackhawks game as she entered her bedroom, changing into a fresh pair of pyjamas she found his contact and sent him a short and sweet text about the loss. He responded right away which threw her off because it's eleven at night and he's still awake even after a game, so she tried to politely pry into why he's still awake.

“Just can't sleep :/ bad last few days” he responded as she stared at the message for a few seconds, trying to figure out what path to take and then quickly sent a text back. Hitting send on her impulsive text as fast as possible so she doesn't chicken out, “You can come up to my apartment if it'll help you sleep :)” Her eyes widen at her boldness as his response bubbles popped up in the corner of the screen. “Be there in a few.”

She waited for him at her front door, a grin on her face as she let him in, a soft smile on his face as he took in the look of her in pyjamas. A soft smile on her lips as she stood on her tiptoes to peck him on the lips as his hand found her hip.

The air felt a bit tense as they treaded in the unknown waters of their growing relationship, a comfortable awkwardness sitting in between them as he grinned tiredly at her. Their fingers intertwined as she led him to her dimly lit bedroom, motioning towards the side of the bed for him as she crawled into her own.

“Can I uh- sleep without my shirt?” his face grew warm as her sweet smile was replaced with a smirk. She pretended to ponder as she got comfortable under the covers, “I prefer you shirtless,” she said cheekily as he rolled his eyes and rid himself of his shirt before crawling in next to her.

She immediately clung to him as she rolled over and right into his arms, a content smile worked its way onto her face as her fingers drew little shapes on his chest, "you okay?" "Just stressed, I'll get over it," he whispered as her brows furrowed in concern. "I wish I could fix all your problems for you," she said as her hand impulsively moved up to sweep his curls in the right direction her hand remained on his bare chest as she looked up into his eyes.

He smiled softly, a little taken aback by the vulnerability of their conversation, "There's a lot more than I let on," he whispered with an exhausted sigh as she shook her head. "I wish you'd talk to someone about all of it, I think it would help a lot." He smirked as she pressed a kiss to his shoulder, "but then I wouldn't have an excuse to come crawl in your bed," he whispered as she smiled up at him and pressed another kiss to his lips. "You don't need excuses, I always want you around." "Well now you're never getting rid of me," she smiled and shrugged as she rolled onto her back.

they sat in silence for a second as she looked at her bedside table to see the book she needed to finish for her journalism class sat on the edge. "Can I read a chapter of my book quickly, I need to get it done for a class," she rolled on her side to see him nodding with his eyes closed. "read it to me," he whispered as she sat up and he rolled over to hug her lower body closer to him.

She opened her novel and started to slowly read the first few pages, before she heard a soft snore leaving his lips, her heart swelling at how peaceful he looked before she sat up a bit to mark her page turned her light and finally got comfortable in his arms.

-

-

-

[satantica]

how haikyu boys would kiss you

you couldn’t go to bed without him. you were patiently waiting for his return from work by reading a book in a muffled light when you heard the door slam. you put the book on the nightstand near the bed as the door in the room opened. he looked exhausted, the tie half taken off, the top of the shirt unbuttoned, eyes extinguished. he slowly sat down across the bed and carefully put his hand on your ankle. he nervously exhaled as he squeezed your ankle a bit harder. you rushed to move closer to him taking his hand and making him look at you. he looked up in your eyes. there was no need for words. you could feel his desperate wish to forget about everything with you. he was tired and couldn’t ask more from you. the muffled light looked so good on him even though he was overwhelmed. your hand drew his head to you. your neck was covered with goosebumps as you felt his warm breath. he started kissing your neck slowly but desperately. he put all his gratitude and adoration in every kiss. your skin responded to every touch of his lips. it was so gentle, so careful and persistent at the same time as he was scared that you would disappear. he moved his hand from your ankle to the scapula pulling you closer. his lips held onto your skin longer with every time. he couldn’t get enough of you.

akaashi keiji, KEISHIN UKAI, osamu miya, oikawa tooru, TSUKISHIMA KEI, SAKUSA KIYOOMI, kenma kozume

you were studying for your midterm as he was sitting in an armchair reading some magazine. “it’s so cold here” he said unobtrusively. you smirked but didn’t look away from the papers “then put some clothes on.” you could feel his unsatisfied gaze at you. he put down his magazine and crossed his legs. “my love, can you bring me my hoodie? i would’ve done it myself but I don’t know where you put it. I think you could use a little break. I bet these papers got the best time of their existence by getting your undivided attention. your eyes shouldn’t work that hard.” you agreed with him and got up. your neck was a mess after sitting with all these notes for several hours. and as you were passing him he grabbed your hand making you fall onto his lap. “seriously, that was your plan?” you laughed. he grinned getting your hair behind your ear “not yet.” he raised his knee so you would lean on his chest. he moved his finger to your chin drawing your lips to his. “god, I missed them these hours” he said before kissing you impulsively, supporting your back with his free hand so you wouldn’t fall. after a while he would grab your other leg managing to get you completely sit on him.

IWAIZUMI HAJIME, terushima yuuji, SUGAWARA KOUSHI, morisuke yaku, goshiki tsutomu, yamaguchi tadashi, SAWAMURA DAICHI, suna rintarou

you both finally got home after exhausting party at work of yours. you two were a little tipsy as you thought it would help to take the stress off. and since when he hadn’t stop from commenting on everything and you hadn’t stop laughing at every his line. you finally took a break and said tiredly "oh gosh, I wish we didn’t have to change and just went to sleep like that.” he glanced at you while taking the shoes off and smiled. “alright.” he effortlessly lifted you in the air holding you under the arms. he carried you this way to the living room. he laid on the couch putting you on him. he was trying to get in the right position so you would feel comfortable. you tried to resist at first but finally let your head rest on his warm, giant chest. you’ve never felt this secure and safe. he patted your head softly, kissing it every time his hand got to your neck. when you fell asleep he couldn’t help it and carefully placed your hands closer to his head, so he would lovingly kiss them in order not to wake you up. this was the moment he wanted to carry with him everywhere for the rest of his life.

azumane asahi, BOKUTO KOUTAROU, haiba lev, wakatoshi ushijima, OSAMU MIYA, kita shinsuke, KENTARO KYOTANI, kageyama tobio

you were having breakfast and tried to concentrate on the amount of things you had to do today. “mood spoiled from the very start of the day?” he tilted his head surprised by how cute you looked. you frowned and put the phone away “just a list of things I got to do.” he smirked “am I on this list? oh fuck, I’m gonna be late.” he pulled your chair closer to him with his foot enjoying the view and then suddenly enfolded your face with both of his hands. he devilishly suffocated you with his lips not letting go of your face. it was so passionate as if he literally drank all the blood from your lips. he stopped as his hand was sliding from your cheek to your chin. he definitely was going to do all of that it again. but then he froze in millimeter from your lips and whispered “don’t forget to return me this one when I get back.” he left giving you an air kiss. oh, this man… what you had to do today by the way?

ATSUMU MIYA, tanaka ryuunosuke, KUROO TETSUROU, yamamoto taketora, tendou satori, OIKAWA TOORU, nishinoya yuu, suna rintarou

[sunnynwanda]

Trouble of Mind: Part 1

Part 2

It's been a week. A week since Hero did something unacceptable. It wasn't exactly forbidden, more like a rule they imposed on themselves for ethical reasons. No matter how much they needed information reading Villain's mind was always out of the question.

They did it a week ago. Amidst the battle, for no particular reason. A thought had flickered behind Villain's gaze only to disappear in the dark pools. And Hero followed. Unconscious at first, an impulse that drew them in. That was the biggest mistake they had ever made. And it backfired.

Villain had no idea why they jerked away so quickly and accepted defeat just so they could escape. The contents of Villain's psyche traumatised them. The things that Hero saw inside their consciousness were disturbing, but what they found deep in Villain's unconscious mind sent reverberating waves through their body. Hero hasn't been able to sleep ever since - countless nightmares served as their only companions for seven long and lonely nights.

Hero sighs, brushing their hair back from their forehead. The sleepless nights were taking their toll on them. Dark bags had settled under their eyes, heavy with the knowledge of the secrets held in Villain's mind.

They hadn't attended to any of the challenges presented by their enemy in the week that ensued. It was not because of the lack of proper rest but rather rooted in their inability to face them after discovering things meant to be hidden. They hadn't left their house at all for the risk of running into someone they knew. Hence why the knock on their door didn't surprise them. They remained quiet for a long moment, waiting for the person to leave, and when the knocking seized, exhaled in relief and returned to their couch for another attempt of rest to turn into torment.

Except it did not. Hero lets out a content sighs, turning so that they are now lying on their back. They yawn, stretching to snap their muscles in place. It feels like a heavy burden has been lifted off of their shoulders. It's only when they try to open their eyes, that they realise something is off.

"What the f..." A hand on their chest prevents them from sitting up, then presses them back down. What the hell?

"Shh, it's just a compress," a familiar voice fills their ears, only increasing the panic. "Don't freak out."

"Villain?" Their throat goes dry. They reach for the cloth that's covering their eyes and forehead. Villain is seated by their bed with a glass of water ready.

"Drink this," Hero shakes their head, propping themselves up against the headboard. With a sigh, Villain takes a sip. "See? It's not poisoned. Just drink it, it'll help."

"What are you doing here?" And what am I doing here? They could bet they were on the couch a few minutes ago. How did Villain get into their apartment and move them without them waking up?

"Helping you deal with the consequences of your own actions," despite the sarcastic tone - Villain seems genuine in their concern. "You shouldn't have done that."

"Pardon?" They jolt, almost jumping in place. No one knew Hero had that ability. Villain couldn't possibly know. Right?

"You shouldn't have read my mind, babe." Hero's eyes widen in shock. Villain shrugs nonchalantly, taking the cloth from their hand. "My past is too much to handle even for myself."

"How did you..?" A million questions are circling in Hero's head, yet they cannot form a single full sentence.

"Gosh, for a mind reader, you are quite dense," Villain shakes their head, then presses a palm against Hero's burning forehead. Their fingers are gentle and cold, Hero almost leans into their touch. "Did you think I wouldn't feel you in my head?"

"I-I'm sorry," their heartbeat is accelerating, which doesn't help the fever, so they take a deep breath, attempting to steady themselves. "I really am. I didn't mean for it to happen."

"I know." Villain dips the compress into a bowl of ice water, then brushes Hero's hair back, wiping their forehead and temples. Hero lets out a content sigh, allowing their eyes to fall shut. "Why didn't you come to me?"

"What for?" They can feel the cloth against the bridge of their nose, then right behind their right ear.

"Help, obviously," Villain tilts their head for better access. "When was the last time you slept?"

"You know the answer to that," is all they can muster, their body relaxed under gentle touches. Villain nods, ignoring the fact that Hero's eyes are closed.

"Put a cold compress on your forehead and ice cubes on your pulse points - that helps." They stop their manipulations, and Hero has to stop themselves from huffing in complaint. Instead, they open their eyes to look at Villain. "I use essential oils and sleep in complete darkness when it gets bad."

"Do you have them often?" Hero's voice is barely above a whisper, but Villain hears.

They nod with a heavy sigh and focus their gaze on Hero's ear, which is crimson red. They wonder if it's a reaction to the cold or their touch. "That's what failed brainwashing does to you, babe."

Hero freezes for a second. When they finally speak, their voice is coarse. "I'm sorry."

Villain offers them a quiet smile before getting up. "Come find me if you still can't rest," they say over their shoulder and vanish before Hero has a chance to thank them.

Hero knows they've made a mistake. A mistake that makes it hard to breathe and almost impossible to sleep. One that led them into the dreams and nightmares of their nemesis. One that gave them a chance to repair the damage they've unearthed and - potentially - heal Villain's troubled mind.

They know they've made a mistake, so when the sun begins to set on the horizon, they knock on Villain's door.

Part 2

Masterlist

[spartanexperience]

Feeling once again weak for the red old man so Areos hc time

- I have a story in my head for how they got familiar the first time! :) I'll make a more detailed post on that when I get the time, but tl;dr, Eos found and saved an unconscious Ares who had been fighting a powerful enemy, and patched up his injuries as he was bleeding Ichor (celestial blood). Bam, Ares was lovestruck. Then, because Eos had broken her wing while saving Ares, Ares did a rare kind and gentlemanly action, and gave Eos a ride on his chariot UuU Both to help her spread morning dew over the lands, and to ride her back home to Olympus where they could get her wing healed.

- Eos was SO flattered and surprised! Most gods did not usually pay attention to her, since she is only a minor goddess whose whole job is to herald the arrival of the day, of Apollo's chariot. So of course she is most of the time overshadowed by his radiance. Besides...she would have never thought that Ares, the terrifying god of war, could be so sweet and considerate to a lady!

- Ares in the meantime, could not stop thinking about Eos for weeks after the incident - her luminous light, her eyes, her cheeky smile, and the way she had saved him and fought a monster for him. Boy was he down baaaaad. However this all is exactly he was awfully shy about talking to her again, and resorted to avoiding Eos for a while like an absolute loser. Until Athena practically YELLED at him to go talk to Eos again LMAO

- Ares is that super showoffy jock boyfriend who is always trying to impress Eos. Be it fighting monsters in front of her, bringing her war trophies, lifting heavy stuff, you name it. He's that meme of "this one's for you baby" *throws a basketball and it misses the basket*

- Eos giggles and flutters her wings while blushing madly, even when he absolutely fails, because he makes her feel so special. She's been so occupied over the years on just being the morning goddess...she had forgotten how it feels to be loved like this.

- Eos loves to impulsively scoop Ares into her arms and fly. Too bad most of the time he wears his heavy armor, so she struggles flapping her wings LOL but whenever he is rarely in a civil wear, like wearing his pajamas, she will absolutely bridal carry him!

- Due to morning dew, Eos' powers are mostly water based. She tends to playfully splash dew at Ares every now and then. If there's water nearby, Ares will answer by splashing back. Cue a chaotic water splashing fight where they both laugh loudly and Poseidon yells "I'M TRYING TO SLEEP"

- Of course, being the goddess of morning, she is great at cooking breakfast. Ares is usually the one out of the couple who insists on cooking for the family. The "healthy military meals", as he says. But when Eos wants to spoil him and her children, they'll be eating the most high quality shakshouka and wine leaf rolls.

- I haven't remembered to mention this, but Eos is AWFULLY clumsy, whether it's dropping stuff off Olympus by accident, or tripping on her own wings. Which gets dangerous whenever she wants to try Ares' weapons LOL

- Remember that scene in Shrek 4 where Shrek and Fiona bond by playfighting with heavy weapons? Yeah that's Areos energy right there

- Ares often calls her "you crazy woman". With the most lovestruck eyes in the world.

- Listening to "Wild Thing" from the end of Strange Magic always makes me think of Areos too bye

- Like I drew earlier, Eos has a whole army of romantic nicknames for Ares, each one sappier than the last. Ever since the other gods on Olympus heard that, they have been mercilessly pranking Ares over it. Once, when Ares arrived to the Olympus court meeting, his name tag on his seat was "BooBoo Bear". Ares broke the table with his fists

- Eos can be clingy. Every time Ares leaves for a battle, a journey to faraway lands on his chariot, Eos either asks if she can come along, or fusses over packing Ares all sorts of food, healing ambrosia, celestial bandages etc. Deep down, Eos is HORRIBLY scared that something bad will happen to Ares. She does not want to lose him like she lost Astraeus and Tithonus :(

- Often, she puts a happy smile on her face so Ares won't be too worried for her, as she does not want to hold Ares back. But sometimes, after Ares is gone, Astraea hears her mom breaking down into sobs in her room.

- Remember that Homeric myth where a bunch of giants managed to trap Ares and imprison him in an amfora for 13 months straight until Hermes finally found and rescued him?

- Yeah, when that happened, Eos ignored her morning goddess duties entirely, to hysterically fly around Greece and search for Ares, causing dawn to never break and for the world to be stuck in a permanent nighttime, as Apollo was unable to ride his sun chariot. When she could not find Ares, she started to fear that he had died... even the cold Boreas stopped being salty at Ares and went to search for him, once he saw the way his dear mother curled up and sobbed and wailed hopelessly, as Astraea hugged her and tried to comfort her.

- Ares in the meantime?? The myth describes him screaming, howling and thrashing endlessly in the amfora. And so he did, causing the Giants to cover their ears like "holy shit we should have kidnapped the god of calmness instead". The only thing bringing Ares comfort in this claustrophobic, merciless long prison, was thinking of his family back at Olympus... Athena, Eos, Fear and Terror, young Harmonia, the wind quadruplets, Astraea...in a rare moment of hopelessness, he'd sob, wanting nothing more than to be free and get back to them.

- Lmao this got horribly angsty BUT as said before, Hermes found and freed Ares!! Accompanied by Boreas, who ruthlessly, mercilessly destroyed the Giants with a devastating, raging cold hurricane. And then he huffed at Ares "shut up I'm just doing this for my mom, NOT for you"

- Needless to say the reunion of Eos and Ares was heartwarming and passionately romantic 💖💖💖 And of course, both Hermes and Boreas got a CRUSHING hug and massive sloppy kisses on their cheeks by Eos. Hermes also got a permanent access to Eos' storage of figs and olives as a thank you.

[volkodava]

Hello my Tumblr friends! Some of you liked the idea of Postapocalypse!AU, as well as the Junpei design I drew earlier. So I pulled myself together and drew portraits for the entire main cast of characters. I must say that they here are closer to the age of P4AU. It was challenging but fun to come up with designs and backstories for them that overlapped with the originals. Although I still haven't thought through some details… But I hope you will enjoy!

FeMC/Minako/Kotone

Yes, this AU uses a female protagonist. She emerged from the Wasteland and all she knows is that she had some important mission. She is cheerful and always believes in the best. There are "XXII"-shaped scars on both sides of her head, similar to a brand. She seems to know what this is supposed to mean, but she won't tell anyone.

Status: Unknown

Yukari

The best long-range power of SEES. She lost her father due to the fault of Mitsuru's father. She was looking for Mitsuru to take revenge, but instead she found her best friend. She can often be bitchy and sometimes too straightforward, but no one heals other people’s wounds better than her. She received a scar on her face from an unsuccessfully broken bow string.

Status: Alive

Junpei

He makes bad jokes and swears a lot to hide his insecurities. Creates chaos almost everywhere it appears. He seems rude and ill-mannered, although he is a hopeless romantic at heart. But if you really make him angry, he destroys everything in his path (ask Takaya and Jin, oh no, sorry, no one will ask them anymore). Ultimately, his concern for Chidori allows him to shed his clown mask and show a different side of himself.

Status: Alive

Fuuka

A mechanic girl found by SEES in a sand labyrinth. She suffers from strabismus, but this did not stop her from completely restoring Aigis and collecting several more useful items for SEES. Has a phenomenal memory. Probably the only one who never started a conflict first.

Status: Alive

Aigis/A.I.G.I.S.

Initially, it was a cleaning robot, on which someone put a yellow wig and a ribbon. It rusted in a landfill for a long time until FeMС found it. Gradually he begins to become interested in the world around him and acquires a desire to find out what a person is and how to be one.

Status: Functioning

Mitsuru

Official leader of SEES. Several years ago, during a shelter fire, she lost her father and was injured herself. She hides the burned part of her face under her hair. She is cold and difficult to compromise, but always acts as a negotiator between gangs of raiders, trying to extract the maximum benefit. Has many useful connections in Port Island.

Status: Alive

Akihiko

Fan of fights without rules. More reasonable and less impulsive than Junpei, but if the two of them are together, then somewhere nearby there is trouble that they got into. Lost his little sister in a shelter fire and still tries to drown out those memories with alcohol. He often misses Shinjiro. Perhaps he was Mitsuru's partner a couple of times, but in the Wasteland no one cares who sleeps with whom.

Status: Alive

Shinjiro

A wandering raider that periodically joins SEES and then leaves. Akihiko's former friend. Little emotional. Lost an eye in one of the raider skirmishes. He tends to evaluate people by their usefulness to society, but in the end he admits that he was wrong too often. For some time he was dependent on Strega's help, but later this developed into enmity. Alas, this did not end well.

Status: Dead

Ken

Practically the “son of the regiment”, he was found at one of the temporary sites along with the body of his deceased mother and taken into the care of SEES. Refused to move to Port Island, choosing to stay in the shelter. Having already seen a lot of things he shouldn't have seen, he wants to become stronger to change the world. Gets close to Shinjiro, reading him as a fatherly/brotherly figure. Nevertheless, he gets very angry when he is overprotected.

Status: Alive

Koromaru

Good boy. One day he just showed up at the shelter and everyone just accepted it. He warned everyone about the attacks several times, after which he received a collar and his own bowl. A good fighter, he always follows those who go on forays into the Wasteland. Perhaps the only one who simply enjoys life.

Status: Alive

[icarustypicalfall]

Commander's last love

part 6

masterpost • ao3 • fic masterlist • like pls :')

note: sorry i got carried away

tags: @unicorngirly1

“Been loving you and I can't get enough”

Mission [A2626]

Location: [CLASSIFIED]

Time: 20:11:04 - 27/10/2022

Commander Phillip Graves sat outside, gazing up at the dark sky, a sense of chaos filling his mind. The weight of his responsibilities weighed heavily on him, like bullets of steel piercing his insides and wreaking havoc on his entire being. He blamed his current state of confusion to some family issues that had been troubling him, causing him to retreat from the room and avoid facing the elephant in the room. He chose to escape, once again.

In truth, weariness clung to his soul like a persistent parasite, making each limb feel burdensome and each step a sonnet of fatigue. It seemed as if even the stars conspired to dim their light upon his happiness. General Shepard died, Soap too. Bombing the base is no longer an option. And amidst this conflicting mix of emotions, he found it difficult to determine whether to celebrate or mourn.

Phillip was utterly exhausted. Even with a full night's sleep and proper meals, he still felt drained of energy. Numerous concerns and worries plagued his mind, making him long to crawl away and hide somewhere beyond anyone's reach. He was accustomed to stress and heightened adrenaline levels, but this time felt different. He felt weak, fragile, and it pained him to admit that he was breaking.

But then, he realized that you wouldn't have embraced him if he hadn't been so distressed. You embraced him, faults and defaults, embracing his mistakes and his past. The question lingered: would you embrace his future as well? The overwhelming sensation of love filled Phillip's heart, a feeling that differed from anything he had ever experienced before. Hugging you was a revelation, as sweet as a spoonful of honey dripping down his throat.

He absentmindedly touched his ribs, as if seeking the lingering warmth left by your hands when you drew him close that night. It was hard for him to believe that it had actually happened, and he held onto you tightly, fearing that you would slip away like everything else in his life.

But you didn't.

Your arms wrapped around him, taming his demons and making him feel sane, if only for a fleeting jiffy. In that moment, he could catch a whiff of your perfume and feel the softness of your back against his palms. He closed his eyes, as if trying to capture that sense of eternity within your embrace.

He wished it could last forever, but as soon as you let go, his impulsive nature kicked in once again. He rushed out of the room, disappearing into the dark hallways, leaving you sitting on the floor, wondering what on earth had just happened to him.

Tonight, the air was chilly, with a moonless sky and a hint of a cold breeze. It mirrored the coldness in his heart when he had first arrived at this place. Yet, in the presence of your existence, the walls he had built around himself crumbled. Phillip sat outside, his mind consumed by thoughts of you. He never thought he would admit it, but deep down, he knew that his attraction towards you went beyond mere liking. Perhaps, just perhaps, it was love. However, his prideful ego refrained from affirming it, and instead, he chose to fixate his gaze on the serene beauty of nature.

It was almost ironic how the peaceful scene before him contradicted the turmoil within him. Oh, how he longed to make sense of the motion picture he had been trapped in for nearly four decades.

The wind toyed with his hair, finding its way under the cotton shirt he wore. He shivered, feeling goosebumps rise on his skin as he pondered whether this reflective session would leave him sick and unwell.

Then, he heard soft footsteps approaching him. Light, like the steps he imagined you taking. Over time, Phillip had learned to judge people not by their words or appearances, but by the way they carried themselves, the way their hands moved. Those two aspects were revealing, capable of betraying even the best of actors.

He felt a weight settle upon his shoulders, and a delightful scent of cinnamon and vanilla reached his nostrils. He wondered how it was possible for someone who had spent days in the field to come back smelling of sunshine and rainbows.

He turned his head to the side, and there you stood, your unmasked face taking his breath away. It was almost as breathtaking as a mother's smile. For a brief moment, he feared you could hear the frantic beating of his heart in his chest. He admired the soft features of your face, surpassing the beauty captured in a renaissance sculpture. His gaze fell upon a scar on your cheek, a wide and unmistakable mark stretching from your eyelid to your ear.

You handed him a blanket and removed your mask, revealing the full beauty of your face. If this were a fragment of his imagination, he would have wished for this dream to stretch out for an eternity or two.

You coughed, raising an eyebrow, and took a seat beside him. "What's the matter?" you asked, curious about his sudden change in demeanor.

He smiled, his eyes softening in awe. Phillip was a tough man, but he had a deep appreciation for beauty. It consumed him and captivated his mind. He looked down, as if the weight of his sins prevented him from fully admiring such a godly sent gift.

After a moment, Phillip spoke, a gentle smile adorning his face as he stared at his muddy boots. "Nothing, sweetheart... You're..."

A slight sigh escaped your lips as you whispered, looking away. "Yeah, I know." The past still stung, and despite the passing years, you were still hurting. "You..."

He interrupted you, locking eyes with you. His tone was commanding, affirming, just like when he gave orders. His words were enough to silence any doubt. "Beautiful... You're beautiful... I better not hear you say or think otherwise again." Phillip let out an awkward laugh as he realized what had slipped from his mouth. He continued, rubbing his neck in both embarrassment and amusement. "You must have blinded someone on the field."

A blush crept onto your cheeks and ears. You smiled awkwardly, realizing that his affirmation and compliment were genuine. You nodded, gazing into his captivating blue eyes that were already lost in your own.

He murmured, squinting his eyes. You were a mystery to him, a box he had never dared to open. He could only wonder what lay hidden behind those walls you had built. "That is one tough scar, sweetheart. You must have had a serious altercation with someone, didn't you?"

You laughed and nodded. "Sort of."

Phillip insisted, his hand reaching out to touch yours. His palm was calloused from years of working in the fields, yet it felt comforting as it gently enveloped your own in a reassuring embrace. "Care to tell me how you got it?"

You sighed, knowing that you would have to reveal the truth sooner or later. Keeping secrets would only leave stains. You smiled and nodded. "Tell me how you got yours first.”

He smiled, gazing into your eyes with pure admiration. He muttered softly, "It was a bullet... I didn't see them and... well... I nearly lost my ear. But you see, sweetheart, they only took a tiny bit of it."

His chuckles resurfaced as you delicately traced your fingers over his healed cheek, feeling the softness of the scar. With a sense of both observation and clarity, you took his trembling hand and gently held it against your face, cradling your chin.

Phillip swallowed hard, holding his breath as if his hands were grasping the essence of life itself. He didn't want to lose it again.

You whispered softly as his thumb trailed over your own scar, "That was a long time ago, back when I was a rookie. It was from a knife... Things got really messy.”

He hummed, absorbing your words and allowing them to sink in. His eyes never wavered from yours.

"We all want to forget that night, and whenever someone sees my face, all they see is the memory. That's why I never take off the mask. We've all had enough of the past."

He frowned, gripping your hand tightly and squeezing it, wishing he could bring you back to reality. "That's terrible... You're making them happy, but you're depriving yourself of so much."

"I know, Phil. I don't want to remember either," you replied, nodding understandingly. He didn't want to push you further. The silence settled once again, but you felt the urge to break it. You had spent so long in the shadows that you had forgotten what the sun looked like.

Phillip held your hand, studying your almost identical hands. The only difference being that his was larger and rougher, while yours still retained the softness of youth and femininity. He noticed a dark, prominent mark on your hand.

You nervously laughed, slipping your hand from his grasp and mumbling, "I burned my hand a long time ago. Must have been really clumsy."

You had to leave, and quickly. He couldn't know. Not yet.

Standing up, you looked around, avoiding his gaze. "It's getting late. I should get some rest. I have some rookies to train tomorrow."

Phillip watched as you retreated back inside, wondering what had just transpired. Inside him, every fiber of his being radiated with happiness. He couldn't believe he had gotten to know you a little better, even though your last statement had made you tense.

Frowning, he once again felt lost. Nothing seemed to solve the mystery of his existence. His mind fixated on the burn, the one on your hand, so similar to...

His head snapped up, and he frantically searched his uniform for the picture he had found in the archive room some time ago. He always kept it with him, gazing at the faces every now and then.

Phillip stared in shock at the picture, finally connecting the dots. The hand, making a peace sign, belonged to you. It was almost ironic how he had never noticed that detail before.

The burn mark was unmistakable. How was he so blind?

He was now faced with even more questions. Why did you avoid talking about the incident? Who were the two other people in the picture? What on earth was happening in this place?

[csprslvt]

you and i, and her. pt 6

Chapter five

Summary: Seattle day two. Ellie and Abby have more similarities than reader had originally thought. As they fight off infected together, reader takes notes of the way Ellie's urge for vengeance made her unstoppable. Reader sneaks off at night looking for more clues and comes across a familiar group. Heartbreak ensues.

Warnings: Mentions of murder, mentions of violence, vague descriptions of violence, Ellie is down bad, but she doesn't know it, fluff, platonic affection, platonic love, reader is heartbroken, but Ellie is there, sharing a sleeping bag/bed trope, foul language (its tlou what did you expect)

It was only a matter of time until you'd both come across infected, after all it was an apocalypse. However, that didn't make you dread the confrontation any less.

It wasn't even the killing that grossed you out, it was the smell, the blood, the guts spilling and bone crushing sounds you heard every time you came up from behind and stealthily attacked.

Ellie was impressed by your skills, but she was just as strategic if not more than you, she had this look in her eyes when she killed. One of pure, raw, determination. She struck with zero hesitation, and it reminded you of Abby.

Though the fighting styles were so different. After observing Abby for years and Ellie for months, you noticed how their personalities impacted the way they fought. Abby was powerful, brutal,swift and efficient and though Ellie also got the job done, she snuck up on her victims rather than plainly attacking and drew as little attention to herself as possible. Ellie was a force to be reckoned with and watching her made you realize how power of an emotion vengeance is.

It frightened you. It made you fear for Abby, Ellie would put up a good fight. She didn't seem to ever change her mind, she was bold and stubborn and impulsive. 

The longer the trip went on, the less you slept. You would stay up all night studying the map you found but to no avail. Everything on the map, you already knew. After all, you were a member of the WLF.

Until one day, you snuck off into the woods and found a lookout. You climbed up its ladder. It was a struggle in the dark, but you managed and inside you were shocked.

A working radio, walkie’s, a wall of notes and sleeping bags.

Someone was here. 

Just as you started to look through everything, snatching the walkies into your pack you heard a voice.

“Your fucking asshole, I cant believe you made me come all the way out here for nothing.”

“Hey I thought I heard something!”

The voices immediately started arguing, it sounded like two men and vaguely familiar but you were still on guard, you were trapped inside the tower, you grabbed your gun and stood flat against the wall by the entrance readying yourself, a man stepped in not played attention until you pressed your gun to his forehead.

“Dont fucking move” you spoke

“What the fuck!” The man said, you were about to respond until you were promptly tackled to the ground. It was dark, hard to see, and your flashlight flew out of your reach.

“ Get off of me asshole!” You screamed

“The fuck is going on up there!”  A voice shouted from below. You were on the floor, stomach facing down as someone pulled you by the hair and tilted your face up.

“Fucking get off!” You flaided your body wildly trying to escape. The person on top of you stopped suddenly and was pulled off of you.

You sat up panting.

A flashlight’s beam hit your face, blinding you.

“Oh my god, y/n?”

You looked up at the oh so familiar voice, the smell of pine and forest and sweat hitting your senses.

You froze ,mouth gaping.

“Abby.”

She pulled you up by the arm, hands on your shoulders and stared at you.

“Its you” She spoke, holding your face.

“Its me” 

Another man entered the room, promptly ruining the moment. 

“y/n?” 

You turned

“Owen.”

“Owen fuck off for a second!” Abby said, clearly annoyed that he had fucked up the moment.

“What the fuck! No!”

“Owen, manny, everybody needs to get out. Now.”

At that, they all exited the tower.

“Where the fuck have you been?” You said with a shaking voice

“Where have you been? You disappeared! I thought you left me”

“You know me better than that Abby”

“Yea, yes I do” Abby spoke, her rough calloused hands stroking your cheeks as if she didn't believe you were actually here.

“Why didnt you come looking for me?” You said, million questions in your mind

“I had somethings to take care of”

“What?”

“I found him”

“Found who?”

“The son of a bitch that killed my father. I found him, I killed him”

You paused, in the joy of finding Abby again, you had forgotten the purpose of Ellie’s goal. 

You stared at Abby

Then you smacked her across the face.

“Babe! What the fuck!”

“Don't you ‘babe’ me” You were so pissed off, Abby didn't try and find you after you'd gotten kidnapped because she was too busy seeking revenge? Maybe you were being a little dramatic, slapping her and all but she forgot about you completely and moved on while you were hung up looking for her, betraying Ellie for her.

“You completely forgot about me!”

“I would never forget about you.”

“Then why didn't you come looking for me? I literally almost fucking died alone!”

“I wanted to look for you, trust me I did but Owen-”

You rolled your eyes

“Oh since when do you listen to Owen”

Abby gulped, with a knowing look in her eyes

You stepped back

“No fucking way”

“Baby, listen, I just-”

Angry tears welled up in your eyes

“Your with him again. Arent you.”

“Its just because-”

“Answer my fucking question Anderson”

Abby's face fell, you had only called her that when you were upset with her, it was always Abby, Abs, babe, but never her last name.

“Yea. I am.”

“I fucking hate you”

“You dont mean that”

“I have spent hours, days, weeks, months not able to think, to sleep, because I've been worried about you! I've been sitting here looking like an idiot stuck on someone who is now fucking around with Owen! Out of all fucking people, Owen? Are you serious? You clearly never gave a shit about me! If you had, you wouldn't be sleeping with your shitty ex-boyfriend!”

Abby looked at the floor, shame weighing on her. 

“I love you”

“Unbelievable! You expect me to just fall back into your arms after everything you put me through!” 

“No, no I don't.”

You put your head in your hands. You loved Abby so much, but being with her right now was overwhelming, and knowing she was with Owen again broke you.

You shoved her out of your way and went to leave.

“ You can't leave me, I've just found you”

Abby’s voice sounded so soft and so remorseful as if she was genuinely scared of losing you again. Her hand trembled, wanting to pull you into her arms and apologize over and over again, because she really was sorry, she really did love you. Owen could never be enough for her, not when she only wanted you, Owen was the shitty fuck she came too only to get you off her mind, but every breath she took, every beat of her selfish heart, it was only there for you.

You turned to face her. Resolve crumbling, you had only ever seen her so broken once before, when she lost her father.

“Meet me here tomorrow at dawn we can talk…Don't bring Owen.” You replied. 

She nodded, willing to do anything to win you back.

“I’ll see you then.”

You didn't look at her after that, you walked out and passed an annoyed Owen. What was once anger morphed into sadness as you made your way back to the makeshift camp Ellie had made.

 Ellie was kind, she was generous, she cared about you, every morning you woke up her floor the first thing she would say was, 

“How are you feeling?” with the most genuine expression. She was interested in your response and listened to you. Ellie was good for you, she was healthy for you. And you were betraying her. It made you second guess your original plan. Ellie was the one you needed, but Abby would always be the one you wanted.

When you made it back, you shuffled your sleeping bag closer to Ellie's. You wanted the comfort of your best friend even though you didn't deserve it after all you had done.

“Y/n?” Ellie stirred awake, looking at you, taking in your melancholy.

“Did you have a bad dream?” She was concerned, she was so good to you. You felt like you could cry

“Uhm yea”

“Come here”

Ellie opened up her sleeping bag, holding her arms out for you to crawl into.

Any other time, you would have said no, but you were so vulnerable and hurt you moved into her arms with no hesitation, burying your face into her neck.

Still you were tense. Holding in tears, that was until Ellie wrapped her arm around your waist. You let go of the tears and fell into her. Allowing her to comfort you.

“Shhh, shhh its okay” She mumbled 

The tears just kept coming, but Ellie knew you didn't want to be questioned at the moment, so she held you, showering you with affection.

It felt nice to feel wanted again. It felt nice to be comforted.

I'm so sorry Ellie, You thought, the guilt of your actions making you worse.

“‘’M sorry” you mumbled, between frantic breathes

“About what?

“Everything”

Ellie looked at you with a confused face.

“Never be sorry for telling me how you feel.” She assumed you felt embarrassed by your display, she didn't want you to feel that way

The truth would kill her.

Nothing felt more right than holding you in that moment, she had yearned for it, and savored the way it felt. She was happy to be the one comforting you.

“I'm here for you, okay?”

The tears eventually slowed to a stop,

“Okay.”

“Get some rest, you can stay with me tonight”

You nodded, feeling exhausted and fell into a deep slumber. That night, when you dreamt it no longer smelt as strongly of pine.

Ellie awoke first with a pleasurable pressure on her chest, the feeling of your head laying on her. You were curled into her side, fast asleep with a face puffy from crying.

Youd seen her cry plenty of times, but she never saw you reciprocate that vulnerability until now.

She was overjoyed that you trusted her enough.

She watched you rest until you woke. You looked like a  total mess, she smiled, she could get used to waking up next to her best friend.

It was then when she noticed your natural beauty, fresh in the morning, bathing in sunlight. How could she not see it before? Here you are, gorgeous as ever, was she blind to it the entire time? Or was it just now that she was learning to appreciate you?

“What are you staring at?” You grumbled, still curled up next to her

“You.” Ellie spoke breathlessly, in a trance like state, simply watching your every subtle movement.

You stared up at her wide eyed, feeling awkward and deciding to break up the tension.

“That was so not platonic” you thought.

“You creep” You laughed, trying to change the subject. Ellie snapped out of it at the sound of your nervous laughter.

“Oh whatever” Ellie rolled her eyes

The two of you finally separated, eating the rations of Chef Boyardee you had found.

“Mmm room temperature 20 year old raviolis. Yummy” Ellie exclaimed with clear sarcasm in her voice

“Better than what you had us eat yesterday, fucking canned artichokes? Disgusting”

“Yea, it was pretty gross”

“I know, tasted putrid”

“Putrid? Where do you come up with words like that?”

“Its a real word, maybe you would have better vocabulary if you paid attention in school”

“Bitch fuck you, you ran away when you were 14”

“Bitch so did you”

“Well…okay yea” Ellie said sheepishly.

You smiled at her, ravioli sauce on your lips

“Umm you got a little something.” She pointed to the corner of her mouth

You licked your lips, she stared.

“Thanks”

She didn't speak much after that, but when you both had gotten up on Shimmer, your chest against her back. She felt at peace.

For now, things were okay, but deep inside, it was the beginning of the end.

[shining-gem34]

✏️ for mumu and rook / dh and hook / df and bai heng

Incorrect Quotes Generator || Accepting @memovia

Muyang & Rook

Rook: If we’re in trouble, just throw Muyang at the problem, and hope for the best. ----- Rook: Evil never sleeps! Muyang : But ugly gets plenty of rest. ----- Rook: I can catch one of them. Let's go, Muyang . Muyang : I didn't volunteer. Rook: A stake out needs two people! Think, Muyang . Who's gonna watch all the crime stuff while the other one eats a hoagie?

Dan Heng & Hook

Hook, texting Dan Heng: Text me when you’re home safely. Dan Heng: I’m home dangerously. Hook: Stop it. Dan Heng: I’m home lethally. ----- Hook: Dan Heng, you need to react when people cry! Dan Heng: I did. I rolled my eyes. ----- Dan Heng: I hate you. Hook: Well, according to this picture I drew of us holding hands, that is untrue. ----- Hook: It’s not that I don’t trust Dan Heng, I just... don’t ’t trust their impulse control.

Dan Feng & Bai Heng

Dan Feng: I hate you! Bai Heng: Wow! So much in common already! ----- Dan Feng: I feel like the world would be better if I'd never been born. Bai Heng: Aw... that's not true. Bai Heng: It'd be exactly the same. Bai Heng: You're not important. ----- Bai Heng: Are pigeons drones? Dan Feng: What? No, I'm trying to sleep. Bai Heng: Think about it. How come you've never seen a baby pigeon? And why do you never actually see a pigeon nest? Because they're DRONES! Dan Feng: *Crying* Please let me sleep... ----- Bai Heng: Just a minute. I need to go take out the trash. Dan Feng: Oh. We're going out? Bai Heng: Wh...

[timeless-fanfic]

Destined Paths, Chapter 2: The Arrival

Word Count: 1526

Andrew x Reader

The walk back to my apartment felt longer than usual, the night air cool against my skin, yet unable to soothe the turmoil in my mind. The conversation with the priest replayed over and over, his words echoing in the silence, mingling with my own doubts and fears. By the time I finally reached home, the weight of the day had settled into my bones, leaving me feeling impossibly heavy, as though each step took more effort than the last.

I pushed open the door and stepped inside, the familiar surroundings offering little comfort. The apartment was quiet, too quiet, the kind of silence that makes you feel more alone than you already are. I moved through the motions of getting ready for bed, each action mechanical and detached, like I was on autopilot. As I crawled under the covers, the exhaustion of the day hit me all at once, pulling me down into the mattress.

Lying there, in the darkness of my room, I felt the strange urge to pray. It was an impulse I hadn’t acted on in years, not since I was a child, desperate for comfort that never seemed to come. But tonight, something was different. I closed my eyes, trying to remember how it felt to speak to God, to reach out to something greater than myself. But the words… the words wouldn’t come. I opened my mouth, hoping for some spark of divine inspiration, but all I felt was an overwhelming sense of awkwardness, like I was trying to communicate in a language I’d long forgotten.

Frustration bubbled up inside me, and I let out a heavy sigh, my breath sounding too loud in the stillness of the room. I clenched my fists, feeling the soft fabric of the sheets beneath my fingers, and tried again. But the silence that followed was deafening, and the more I struggled, the more futile it all seemed. Finally, I gave up, the effort of trying to reconnect with something I wasn’t sure I even believed in anymore proving too much.

I rolled over, pulling the blanket tighter around me, and tried to find some semblance of peace in sleep. But even that was elusive, my mind racing with thoughts I couldn’t quiet, my heart still heavy with the weight of the day’s events. Eventually, the exhaustion won out, and I drifted into a restless sleep, the darkness of the room closing in around me like a shroud.

But when I opened my eyes again, it wasn’t the familiar ceiling of my bedroom I saw. Instead, I was met with the blinding brightness of a desert sun, the air dry and scorching against my skin. I sat up, sand slipping through my fingers as I tried to grasp what was happening. The endless expanse of sand stretched out before me, barren and unforgiving, and in that moment, the reality of my situation crashed down on me with a force that took my breath away. I was no longer in my world, no longer in the place I knew. I was somewhere else entirely, and I had no idea how or why I had come to be here.

The desert stretched endlessly before me, a vast expanse of sand and heat that made the world seem empty and surreal. The sun was already high, beating down relentlessly as I tried to make sense of where I was, how I had gotten here, and what I was supposed to do next. My thoughts were scattered, disjointed, as if my mind was still struggling to catch up with the reality of my situation.

With no other option, I began to walk, each step sinking slightly into the soft, shifting sand. The heat was oppressive, the kind that saps your energy with every breath, but I forced myself to keep moving. I didn’t know where I was going, or if there was even anywhere to go, but staying still wasn’t an option. The landscape was barren, devoid of any signs of life, and with each passing minute, my anxiety grew.

After what felt like hours, I noticed something in the distance—a dark line against the pale horizon. As I drew closer, I realized it was a road, a dusty, well-worn path cutting through the endless desert. Relief washed over me, the first sense of hope I had felt since waking up in this strange place. A road meant people, and people meant answers—hopefully.

I followed the road, my footsteps kicking up small clouds of dust as I went. The silence was overwhelming, broken only by the sound of my own breathing and the occasional gust of wind that swept across the dunes. I had no idea how far I had walked, or how much longer I could keep going, but I pushed those thoughts aside. All that mattered was moving forward.

Eventually, I spotted something in the distance—two figures walking towards me, a man and a woman. As they grew closer, I could see they were older, perhaps in their late fifties or early sixties. The man had a graying beard and was dressed in simple, rough-spun clothes, while the woman wore a long, modest dress with a shawl draped over her shoulders. They moved with purpose, and as they caught sight of me, they slowed, their expressions wary.

“Are you lost, child?” the man asked when they were close enough to speak without shouting, his voice rough but kind.

I hesitated, unsure of how to respond. How could I explain my situation without sounding completely insane? “I… I’m not sure where I am,” I finally said, my voice shaky. “I woke up in the desert. I don’t know how I got here.”

The couple exchanged a glance, their concern evident. The woman stepped forward, her eyes scanning me from head to toe. “You’re not from around here, are you?” she asked gently. “Your clothes… they’re very strange.”

I looked down at myself, realizing for the first time just how out of place I must have seemed. My modern jeans and t-shirt were worlds apart from the simple, homespun garments of the people here. “No, I’m not,” I admitted, trying to keep my tone even. “I… I came from far away. I didn’t mean to end up here. I’m just… trying to find my way.”

The man nodded slowly, as if processing my words. “It’s not safe for you to be out here alone,” he said. “We’re heading home to our city. It’s a bit of a walk, but you’re welcome to come with us. We have food and water—enough to share.”

The offer was more than I could have hoped for, and I felt a wave of gratitude wash over me. “Thank you,” I said, trying to keep the emotion from my voice. “I appreciate it.”

The woman smiled kindly, reaching out to take my hand. “We were just visiting our daughter,” she explained as we began walking together. “She’s around your age, maybe a little older. Lives in the next village over with her husband. It’s not often we see young women traveling alone.”

I nodded, trying to think of something to say that wouldn’t raise too many questions. “It’s been… a strange journey,” I said vaguely. “I’ve been through a lot.”

The man gave a sympathetic nod. “Life is full of trials,” he said. “But you’re still here, and that means you’re strong. The road is hard, but it leads us where we need to go.”

We walked in silence for a while after that, the only sound the soft crunch of sand beneath our feet and the distant wind that seemed to sigh through the empty landscape. The couple’s presence was comforting, their kindness a small light in what had become an impossibly dark situation.

As the sun began to dip lower in the sky, casting long shadows across the desert, the man spoke again. “Our city isn’t much,” he said, glancing at me. “But it’s home. You’re welcome to stay with us for as long as you need. We don’t have much, but we believe in sharing what we have.”

I nodded, grateful beyond words. “Thank you,” I said again, my voice soft. “I don’t know what I would have done if you hadn’t found me.”

The woman squeezed my hand gently. “The Lord works in mysterious ways,” she said. “Perhaps it was no accident that we crossed paths today.”

I didn’t respond, unsure of how to process the idea that there was some divine reason for my sudden displacement in time and space. But as we continued walking, the couple’s warmth and generosity began to ease the tight knot of fear that had settled in my chest since I woke up in the desert. The walk was long, but as we finally approached the outskirts of their small city, the sight of buildings, people, and the flickering glow of lanterns in the distance filled me with a sense of hope I hadn’t felt in what seemed like forever. I still didn’t know where I was, or why I was here, but at least for now, I wasn’t alone.

[moonlightswritingandstuff]

it's gonna hurt like hell, but we're gonna be well (i'll give you my best shot)

It's been five years since Bianca has seen Rachel is person. She just got on a plane all the way to California to see Rachel on some mysterious impulse. But Bianca's never been able to forget Rachel's smile, so maybe she can get something out of this.

read on ao3!

"Bianca?" is the first thing Rachel says when she opens the door to her wife.

"Rachel. It's been a while."

"It's been years. Why are you here?"

"I... just had to leave."

"You came across the country. And why me?"

"I don't know, okay?"

"Did you do any planning?"

"Uh, sort of. But-"

"Just stay with me," Rachel says, and rolls her eyes. "I have a spare room."

"Thanks."

"Besides, it's two am in the morning. What's that for you, five am? Just go to sleep."

"See you tomorrow."

"See you tomorrow, I guess."

«»

“So. Why are you here?”

Bianca takes a sip of her coffee. It’s perfect, despite the incredible specificities that she likes. “You made my coffee perfect.”

“I’m not in the habit of disappointing guests. But onto the point. Why are you here?”

“I got tired.”

“Of what?”

“I don’t know. Everything. Being Nico and Hazel’s perfect sister. Doing everything for them.”

Choosing them over you, she doesn’t say.

“You’ve been doing it for years. What changed?”

“I don’t know," Bianca says. "Maybe it's Nico wanting children and wanting me to be the perfect aunt for them. Maybe it's that... I don't know."

Rachel nods, and there’s something different in her eyes. Softer, maybe. With an ache, Bianca realizes that’s a pale imitation of how Rachel used to look at her.

Maybe this won’t be so bad.

“You can stay here,” Rachel says. “We’re still legally married, after all.”

“Thanks.”

Rachel nods, her close-clipped and brightly painted nails drumming on the table in a manner that would’ve been so familiar to Bianca years ago but is now as distant as what five years and a million little mistakes could’ve created.

“What’re you doing now?” Bianca asks suddenly. It’s odd, but Bianca finds that she really does want to know what’s going on.

“Not much,” Rachel says. “My art’s gotten big, I guess. I get a decent amount of museums wanting to display my work in modern art galleries. I have a few pieces loaned out to the Tate Modern. My father’s company is now mine and I’ve been trying to get it to turn around and be… better. It’s not actually that hard to be eco-friendly. I’ve been using my influence to try to make it better.”

Bianca smiles.

“And you?” Rachel finishes, almost lamely, like she doesn’t know what else to say.

“Music’s still making me some money, but lawyering is still my main profession. I’ve been helping abuse victims — working with Percy.”

“How’s he doing?”

“Good. Got married, well, eloped. Didn’t want a huge wedding. Or one at all. His social work is doing well, too.”

“Oh, I never took Annabeth as someone who didn’t want a wedding.”

“He didn’t marry Annabeth.”

“Oh, really? I always thought it would be her.”

“Me, too. Up until the moment they broke up, four years ago.”

“So, who’s he married to?”

“One of Drew’s coworkers when she was doing the solo at the Phillharmonic Orchestra a few years back. Plays the cello. She’s a lot like Annabeth in some ways and a lot unlike her in others.”

“I’m glad he’s happy. What about Drew?”

“She’s the only person who knew I was leaving. She’s doing great.”

“Being called one of the best violinists in the world, hey?”

“Yeah. I’m proud. And what’s going on with you?”

Rachel sips at her tea. “Mostly what I said. Katie and Travis are living their happily-ever-after. Two kids, now.”

“That’s nice for them.”

“What’s going on with you, anyway?”

“Not much. I haven’t cheated or anything.”

Rachel snorts. “I’d hardly count dating someone now as cheating, but I suppose I haven’t ‘cheated’.”

“I suppose it isn’t. We’re separated in all but name, anyway.”

“Yeah.”

The apartment smells of lavender, and Bianca doesn’t say that she still wonders what went wrong with them. Maybe it was the distance. Maybe they weren’t, aren’t, the type of couple to make it out.

Maybe, just like her, Rachel still can’t bear the idea of divorcing each other. Even after all this time. Even after all this distance.

Bianca’s never been able to forget the way Rachel smiles, after all.

«»

Bianca’s got work — she’s never been one to not plan, and there’s, unfortunately, always someone who needs to escape a terrible situation. She starts on her new case and the paperwork piles up once more. It’s not altogether terrible, and in fact, Bianca enjoys it. She’s helping people.

Rachel’s penthouse has an excellent view of the sea, and in summer, it’s as close to idyllic as it could get.

Plenty of inspiration for Rachel’s painting.

It’s just, Bianca used to be the one Rachel would sketch and paint. She remembers coming across a sketchbook of Rachel’s full of just Bianca herself, pages made entirely of pencil and nothing else of Bianca’s profile and front in loving detail.

But Bianca remembers that she used to write music about Rachel, music in which she described Rachel’s eyes and their multitudes and everything, music in which she told Rachel she’d love her no matter what — even if they had no words, Bianca likes to think they conveyed the sense of it all.

And they both know how that ended.

But what’s done is done. No use in changing what’s already happened.

“Let’s go out,” Rachel says. “You’re in California. I thought the purpose was to leave it all behind.”

“Yes, but…”

Rachel rolls her eyes. “Still haven’t left the workaholic tendencies?”

“No. Work’s important.”

Rachel smiles. “It won’t kill you to get out once in a while. C’mon, let’s go.”

Bianca lets Rachel drag her outside, to some botanical, well-kept garden. It's an aching reminder of the dates they used to have, but slightly skewed. Rachel brings her sketchbook, just like always, and makes thumbnails of various flowers and displays – the lavender, the gladiolus, a butterfly Rachel stops to draw because she thinks its blue colour is lovely, and it is, especially detailed through Rachel’s coloured pencils.

"Do you still obsess over plants as much as you used to?" Rachel asks, a reminder of how well Rachel used to know Bianca. Plants weren't something Bianca talked to just anyone about.

"Yes."

"Tell me about them."

"Those are tiger lilies," Bianca says, pointing. "USDA hardiness zones three to nine, perennial. They symbolize, depending on who you ask, mercy, compassion, wealth, prosperity, courage, or pride. Originating in Asia, they bloom in late summer to early fall."

"And those ones?" Rachel asks, pointing to roses of all things.

"Those are roses. I'd suppose you know about them already."

"Tell me about them anyway."

"Usually perennial, can live in most conditions. Usually mean love, especially red roses, and yellow roses represent friendship. Briar roses and some hybrids can have aromatic scents."

And so they go through the botanical garden, Rachel sketches more, and Bianca tells her about the plants. It's so achingly familiar that Bianca gets déjà vu.

"Do you want to get food at some point?"

"It's nearing five," Bianca says. "Sure, why not."

They get takeout. It's good, and it reminds Bianca of what she used to have, back when she and Rachel were first married and lived in California. Lived where Bianca's now staying.

Bianca never should've left. But she'll admit it. She was never not going to leave.

It's been years since Bianca was a child, a decade and a half. She can admit things she couldn't earlier. And one of those is that Bianca regrets leaving Rachel for Nico and Hazel. Bianca has always prioritized her younger siblings over anything else, and it's not recent, the bitter taste that leaves in her mouth.

But Bianca's here now. With Rachel.

Maybe she should stop hiding. But it's Rachel. But there's Nico. And Hazel. And everything else she can’t say and can’t name.

«»

That night, Bianca gets a call from Nico.

"Drew told me that you up and left for California."

"I did. Did you just notice? It's been a few days since I left."

"We don't talk that often, Bianca."

He's lying. Bianca and Nico talk every other day. He's just not used to Bianca doing something this impulsive. He's just not used to Bianca doing something for herself. And he doesn't even realize it.

He never has, she notes, with no shortage of bitterness.

"I suppose not."

"Why did you leave?" Nico's voice is angry, but it's a little grainy through the phone, and if Bianca tries hard enough, she can pretend that it isn’t Nico saying this. That it isn’t her little brother.

"I don't know."

"And Rachel? You haven't talked in years!"

"We talked five minutes ago."

"Bianca-"

"Hold it, Nico."

She hangs up. Puts her phone aside. She can't deal with this right now.

Nico calls again. The apartment's quiet, Rachel's out for a late-night painting class she teaches. The phone rings, a fake sounding noise that reverberates across the empty apartment. Nico's contact reads 'baby brother' because it pisses Nico off and Bianca is so, so tired.

Hazel will call soon, as soon as Nico gives up getting her to listen to him. Hazel will call because Nico will tell her to. Hazel will call because she's concerned about Bianca.

Drew is too, Bianca knows. But Drew knows Bianca, better than Bianca knows herself. Drew only smiled and told Bianca to go for it when Bianca told her she was leaving.

Drew knows exactly how Bianca feels about Rachel.

Bianca could really go for a chat with her.

But on cue, the minute Nico's calls stop coming, Hazel's start.

Bianca puts her phone on silent, puts it in her bag, and continues working on her case. She's getting the case declared self-defence if she dies trying.

Bianca's good at this. She always has been. She's suffered through too much research and too much deliberation to not be.

But just as Bianca starts the get back into her work, the door opens, and Rachel comes in, singing.

It's an old song, certainly. One Bianca remembers Rachel loving.

Rachel's always had a pretty voice. Bianca's always been an alto, dipping into contralto, but Rachel has a high soprano. Bianca would be lying to say she didn't miss it all the time.

Bianca would be lying to say she didn't miss Rachel all the time.

Suddenly, Rachel's singing is brought to an abrupt stop.

"Oh, I forgot you're here," Rachel says sheepishly.

"It's fine," Bianca says. “You’re not used to me here.”

“I suppose not.”

Rachel hums, taking her hair out of the band that barely kept it together anyways.

Bianca goes back to her work, and a few minutes later, Rachel places the most perfect cup of tea on Bianca’s desk, just the way she likes it. Mint tea with a generous amount of lavender honey.

Well, Bianca hasn’t drunk her tea with lavender honey since… since she felt actually married to Rachel.

“Thanks for the tea,” Bianca says. “It’s perfect.”

Bianca can hear the smile in Rachel’s voice. “I know.”

«»

The next day, Bianca goes shopping. She figures she should get something for Rachel. After all, she has to put up with Bianca.

She first stops at a candle store. Rachel loves candles, Bianca remembers distantly — she used to get Rachel candleholders. Floral scented, lavender. Her favourites. Well, the years must have changed things, but Bianca still loves her lavender honey, and her coffee that precise way.

And then she goes to a florist.

Rachel’s favourite flowers are carnations, heliotrope, and forget-me-nots. Bianca decides to go with pink carnations, purple heliotrope, and blue forget-me-nots, along with white yarrow. She hopes it’ll make Rachel happy. She always likes flowers. As a last minute decision, Bianca adds lavender to the bunch.

"Got someone you're thinking of?" the florist asks, her almost luminous green eyes (that distantly remind Bianca of Rachel) lighting up and a smirk decorating her face.

"Sort of," Bianca replies, looking down at her name plate. Lou Ellen, it reads.

So she walks back to the apartment, putting in the code, up to the top floor. With her family's money, Rachel easily affords the penthouse.

It's odd. This is so familiar. Bianca used to do this same thing every day.

And now she lives in New York, across the country.

Bianca loves New York more than she ever loved California. But she can't say that she misses New York.

Rachel fits better in California then when they were in university in New York, she thinks, with a sudden pang. They left for California for a reason.

But the elevator dings and Bianca arrives at the top floor, walking to their door and opening it. Rachel's cooking something, the smell weighing down the air. The scene is so unbearably domestic, just like how they used to be.

Rachel turns when Bianca arrives, cooking momentarily forgotten. "Oh! Flowers? And candles?"

"Kind of like a thanks-for-putting-up-with-me gift," Bianca explains.

Rachel smiles. "I love them. But you didn't have to get it for me. I wouldn't... not put up with you."

Bianca smiles back, and she goes to the cabinet to get a vase worthy of them. The kitchen is still organized the way that it used to be, five years ago. The déjà vu grows more poignant.

"I'm almost done dinner," Rachel says. "It's chicken. Mostly easy."

"Thanks," Bianca says, because she feels like she has to. "It's fine. Chicken’s great."

And it stirs up a memory. Second date, Bianca got sick, so Rachel came over to her terrible student living and made chicken, of all things. Maria, Bianca’s mother, hated chicken, for whatever reason, so it was the first time Bianca really had chicken.

Until that day with Rachel.

Bianca will admit, she doesn’t like chicken all that much.

But Rachel’s already hosting, and Bianca doesn’t really want to protest.

“Dinner is ready,” Rachel says, softly, as if she’s afraid of disturbing Bianca.

“Thanks," Bianca replies, putting her things away, all the paper back in its folders and into her four-inch binder.

When Rachel serves the food, dinner turns into a quiet affair. It's not awkward — thank the sea and stars — but it is silent. The sunset streams through the windows, and Rachel is still so beautiful in the golden light.

Gold suits her.

Gold suits Rachel, unlike Bianca, whose complexion has always left more for silver than for gold. Gold suits Rachel the way that green does.

Bianca's reminded of their wedding dresses. Bianca wore all black and silver, Rachel in white and gold. It was a little pointless, a little fanciful, but it made great pictures and greater happiness.

But that is far behind her now. That's far behind both of them.

The fresh flowers Bianca got Rachel are on the table, as beautiful as they will ever be. The almond-like scent of heliotrope is faint, the clove-like carnations likewise, but the lavender is pungent compared to them, and not only for the flowers, but also from the fact that Rachel burns the candle Bianca got her that afternoon.

It's in an old candleholder, and it is almost familiar. Well, it is, it's just that Bianca hasn't seen it since... five years ago. But Bianca, in the deep recesses of her memory, remembers it. It was a one-year anniversary gift, painted cream and accented with lavender flowers. Bianca supposes Rachel decided to match them.

But it's so eerily similar to how things used to be. Bianca is sitting and eating in a meal strangely reminiscent of the ones that they used to have before she left.

Bianca could write a piece about this. She can already picture a string quartet — soft violin and soothing cello and viola to balance it all out. Or a piano trio, with a piano and a violin and a cello.

She looks up at Rachel, only to see Rachel looking at her.

"Do I have something on my face?" Bianca asks, because, in all honesty, Bianca cannot think of another reason.

"Oh, no," Rachel says, and looks away. "It's nothing."

«»

The next day, Bianca calls Drew. Drew's voice is grainy through the phone, but by every god to have ever existed, Bianca misses her.

"So. How's Rachel?"

"She's good."

"There's more to the story, I'm sure."

"You know me so well."

"Of course I do, hon. We've been friends for how many years?"

"Too many."

"You sell me short. Anyway, what is going on? Nico and Hazel are in panic mode because you're responding to precisely none of their calls."

"I don't want to."

"Good for you — honestly. Put yourself first for once. Not your career, and definitely not your siblings."

“I can’t just… not take care of them.”

“Sure you can. They’re adults. You can rekindle your relationship with your wife.”

“She’s not really my…”

“Anyone can see you wish she really was,” Drew replies. ���Besides, everyone’s fine. Go get your marital bliss or whatever.”

Bianca blushes. “Drew. Tanaka.”

“Bianca. Di. Angelo.”

“I don't... She doesn't..."

"Sure she doesn't. If you can't do everything again, just be friends. Trust me. It'll be better."

"Thanks, Drew."

"And call Hazel. She's better about this than Nico is, you know."

"Fine."

"I have to go — practice is in thirty minutes, and I still need to get there."

"See you."

"Cya. Hope you get it sorted out."

"Thanks."

The phone clicks off. Drew's busy, she always has been. She travels for her soloing work – everyone wants the best violinist in the world – and Bianca and her catch up when they can. Drew’s home base is New York, but Bianca hopes that, if she is to stay in California, that Drew can get a position here for a while.

Bianca pauses. Thinks about Drew's advice. She's usually right about these things – relationships come so easy to her. But Drew hasn't seen Rachel in years, either. But she has seen Hazel recently.

Bianca knows Hazel should be free around now. She picks up the phone, and dials Hazel's number.

Hazel picks up on the second rung. "Bianca? Oh my, we were so worried. Nico and I, that is. This is so unlike you."

"Hi, Hazel. Everything's fine. I'm just..."

"You miss Rachel."

"Yeah." Bianca doesn't have the energy — or the will — to tell Hazel the truth.

"Nico says hi, so does Lavinia. We miss you, but if it makes you happier, stay in California. I'm just... surprised that you would do this."

"I didn't expect it of myself either."

Bianca can hear Hazel's smile on her voice. "The most unexpected is sometimes the best. That being said, nothing much has changed, if anything truly ever changes."

"When have you gotten philosophical on me?"

"Since getting the philosophy degree, obviously."

"Going for the doctorate?"

"Obviously. Lavinia makes enough money that I don't have to worry about it — and from what we have from Father, it's fine. Plus, I could be a professor!”

"That's good. I'll... probably be back soon."

"We miss you."

"I miss all of you, too."

"Have fun down in California, Bianca. I'll see you whenever you come back."

"I'll see you then, too."

The phone clicks off, and Bianca sighs. She hates that she doesn't know what to say to Hazel. She hates that she doesn't know what to say to Rachel. She hates that Drew was right.

Drew's voice rings in her head as it says, "I'm always right."

Bianca snorts to herself. She'd counter with that one time in university when Drew bombed a test, but Drew's not here, and Bianca just has the silent apartment to herself.

One of Rachel's sketchbooks lies on the kitchen table. Bianca recognizes it — it's the one that Rachel brought when they went to the botanical garden.

Bianca, on some odd whim, opens it. She knows she shouldn’t – artists’ work should be their own. But she can’t help herself.

The first page is lovingly detailed drawings of lavender, beautiful and as realistic, and different flowers decorate the pages after it, until one page gives Bianca a pause.

It's herself. It's Bianca, in rendered radiance. The drawing of herself has a small smile on her face as she looks down. Her bangs hang over her face and her hair is in a ponytail. It's achingly real, and Bianca sees herself in it.

Is this how Rachel sees her? She doesn't know, but Bianca feels like she's intruding on a private moment.

She closes the sketchbook, but its drawing bothers her for the rest of the day, for some inexplicable reason that Bianca cannot name.

«»

Bianca makes breakfast the next day. She's not the best cook in the world, but at least she's better than Nico. And her father was never one to cook (and neither was her stepmother, come to think of it), so Bianca would cook, and then Hazel, who was always better than her.

Pancakes were always a family favourite, especially when their parents would go away, and it would just be Bianca, Nico, and Hazel.

Bianca remembers that Rachel also loves pancakes.

Or, she did. But Bianca's pretty sure everyone loves pancakes. So.

As Bianca makes the pancakes, she admires the apartment around her. Rachel's made a dedication to paint all of the walls, as it seems — she started when Bianca still lived with her. Back, a million years ago, when they still lived together. There's flowers along one wall, abstract shapes along another, some fabric pinned to create a beautiful mural of some kind of abstractness with some things that look oddly familiar to Bianca.

Everything here feels so Rachel that Bianca being there feels a violation of the space in itself.

But there are things that remind Bianca of herself, too. Things that Rachel hasn't bothered to get rid of in the years since Bianca's been gone.

The kitchen's still organized the exact same way. There's still a stupid smiley face made with Posca paint pens on one of the backing tiles, a heart with Bianca's signature curved tails, next to one of Rachel's little anatomically realistic hearts (because Rachel couldn't do anything halfway, and Bianca dared her as a joke).

The kitchen tiles were the first that they decided to do that on, and some of the paint has chipped. But Bianca's stupid little doodles that don't even look good sit right next to Rachel's masterpieces. They'd laugh and paint and cry all the same.

It used to be so easy. Bianca didn't care because it was Rachel and that meant everything and nothing all the same.

"Bianca?" Rachel asks groggily, from the door to her bedroom.

"I'm making pancakes."

"Thanks."

"Of course."

The pancakes are done soon enough. Time is no longer an issue to Bianca, for whatever reason. But with her case soon drawing to a close, Bianca's slightly afraid of having to go back to New York.

The realization that she doesn't want to go back to New York is an epiphany Bianca never thought would happen. The realization that she wants to stay with Rachel is even more of one.

But Bianca has a week. A week before she leaves and everything goes back to how it impossibly was before.

That weighs bitterly on her tongue, like the coating of forgotten pomegranate seeds, fermented as to invoke disgust.

"Bianca?" Rachel asks. "Everything okay?"

"Yeah, just thinking."

"About what?"

Now Bianca just needs to come up with a convincing lie. "A hot dog is a sandwich."

"Oh, really? I think that categorizing things in categories like that is inherently ambiguous."

"It may be, but categorizing things helps bring peace of mind."

"Stuffing things into categories just makes the boxes too big."

Bianca admits that it's kind of nice to argue with Rachel again, about silly and meaningless things.

«»

The court case will take longer than Bianca expects, as is obvious from the get-go. Bianca has the evidence, though, but the prosecution is much more adamant than Bianca thought it'd be.

Never mind that. Bianca is not altogether terrible at this. She's definitely not the best, but she's good, and she's determined. Every case takes a lot out of her — her faith in humanity, for one — but in the end, it's always worth it.

Is anything ever not?

(Bianca knows seeing Rachel again is worth it. Bianca also, impossibly, knows leaving her was worth it, too.)

But she's at court for most of the day, going home (she shudders at how easily Rachel's apartment has become her home once more), cooking dinner (it's the least she can do), and talking to Rachel, sometimes long into the night.

And so her week goes.

The flowers Bianca bought wilt a little, their smell waning as Bianca's time in California draws to a close. Conversation comes easily now, and Bianca would be lying if she said it wasn't comfortable, if she said that leaving wouldn't hurt.

(Bianca won't admit it, but she's been falling love with Rachel all over again.)

But the week passes too fast, too quickly, and suddenly the case is done (and won) and Bianca is set to leave in a few days' time.

"You're leaving," Rachel states, as only she can, a day before Bianca leaves. The lavender candle is burning, and it smells like lavender throughout the apartment.

"I've got to go back to New York," Bianca says, willing herself not to cry. This isn't sad. Rachel will move on, just like she did before. Rachel hasn't been falling in love with Bianca all over again.

"What if," Rachel hesitates, and Bianca doesn't dare hope, "I don't want you to leave?"

"What?"

"Sorry, just ignore it," Rachel says, all in a hurry, like the words are a fire that catches too quickly.

"I'm not going to," Bianca replies, as if that could change anything. "I'll tell you a secret. I don't want to leave, either."

"Then don't."

"I won't."

That afternoon, Bianca cancels her flight and stays with Rachel.

«»

They don't talk about it. They don't talk about how Bianca decided to start another case, to stay. They don't talk about how Rachel didn't want her to leave. They talk around it, anything else, because Bianca isn't quite sure she's ready for that conversation and she doubts Rachel is either.

But Bianca knows they have to talk about it eventually.

She doesn't want to. Instead, she calls Drew.

"I'm not going back," Bianca says. "Rachel and I agree — I'm staying in California."

"No duh," Drew says. "That's great, though. Glad you're staying with Rachel — chase your own happiness."

"How do I tell Hazel and Nico?"

"Text message, or whatever. You've got to tell them, but it'll be fine. Let's focus on you and Rachel, though. Back together?"

"No."

Bianca can hear Drew's sigh through the phone, through the static. "Just admit it. You're in love with her, she's probably in love with you. She wanted you to stay."

"We haven't talked about it."

"Hon. You're never going to if you don't do it as soon as possible. You're going to be in the 'pining roommates' stage forever. And you’re married! I don't want to be hard on you, but please."

"I know," Bianca says, hoping Drew can hear her rolling her eyes all the way in New York. "What do you know of romance anyway?"

"My mother writes romance novels for a living. They're incredibly lucrative."

"That means nothing. You would rather drink glass than read one of her novels."

"Would you rather I get your auntie Hera on call?"

"No! That would be even worse!"

Drew laughs. "What I'm saying is, just give it a chance. If it doesn't work out, you come back to New York. Why keep waiting? You've been waiting for this for five years. You can't keep waiting because eventually Nico might have another accident, or Hazel might, or they both want you back, and you don't know how to not help you siblings constantly. Just do it for yourself."

"I didn't ask to be psychoanalyzed."

"I'm your best friend. It's my job."

Bianca sighs. "I'll talk to her."

"Good."

"How's your newest piece?"

"I hate Paganini," Drew announces. "I always have, I always will. They want me to do a show, with like one piano accompaniment, at Carnegie Hall. I would rather kill myself."

"You're not called the best violinist in the world for nothing, you know."

"Yeah, but I've been doing his Variations on God Save the Queen for three days now and I want to resurrect and kill him."

"And just how good are you so far?"

"I've started memorizing it," Drew mutters, as if ashamed.

"Exactly. You're insane."

"So was Paganini."

Bianca pauses, hoping Drew can hear her raised eyebrow in the pause.

"Shut up," Drew says. "Anyway, go call Nico or Hazel or text them or whatever."

"Drew."

"Bianca."

"Fine."

"Goodbye!" Drew calls, before hanging up, "Remember to tell your siblings!"

The phone clicks off, and Bianca is left in the apartment, the smell of lavender seeping into the air.

She sighs. Drew's right, as seems to be all too often recently, and she calls Hazel.

It takes three rings of hollow sound for Hazel to pick up.

"Hey, Bianca," Hazel says. "You're at the airport?"

"Actually," Bianca wills herself not to cry, "I'm staying in California."

"With Rachel?"

"With Rachel."

"That's good. See you at Christmastime, or sometime soon?"

"When I can."

"I'll tell Nico," Hazel says suddenly. "Don't worry about it."

"Thanks."

"Of course. Have fun with Rachel."

"I will."

Hazel hangs up. It's odd — it was a short call, but there was so much there. Hazel doesn't sound mad, but then again, she has always been good at concealing her emotions.

Bianca knows Nico's going to be upset. But she'll stay anyways. Suddenly, a country away, Bianca doesn’t care about Nico’s emotions as much as she cares about Rachel’s presence. Which is odd because she wants to start over with Rachel.

But Bianca also knows, in the back of her mind, that that may never happen. But Bianca has always been one to want to be given life in all its pain and beauty.

«»

Bianca buys flowers for Rachel again, as the other ones go to waste. Blue cumins, blue hyacinths, white baby's breath, white daisies, and purple lavender. She can't help but hope that Rachel will like it.

Rachel wants you to stay, the annoying voice in Bianca's head that sounds suspiciously like Drew whispers. She'll be delighted in anything you get her.

Bianca ignores that voice, and stresses anyway.

Because she's bringing these flowers as a reminder of what they need to talk about. She's bringing these flowers to hopefully soften the blow that Bianca still loves Rachel.

So she goes back to the apartment with flowers, in a bouquet. Jane Austen put it best when she said I am half agony, half hope. Tell me not that I am too late, that such precious feelings are gone for ever, and so on. Especially, I have loved none but you.

But Bianca is no writer, no artist. Unlike Rachel, Bianca has never been able to draw inspiration from the world, and turn it to silvery honey on paper. Music has always been easier. Bianca doesn't even write lyrics. It's all violet and flute and piano and whatever else catches her fancy — things Drew and her siblings Valentina and Mitchell can play, but that no one can sing.

Maybe when this is all over, Bianca can write a piece for it. Maybe a piano trio. Or a string quartet. Something about Rachel and her. That sounds about right — it can end in heartbreak or romance, depending on how Rachel response, Bianca supposes.

But never mind that.

She arrives at the apartment a little after when she means to. Bianca got the flowers just before dinner, and Rachel and her decided to go out that day, anyway.

Her palms are sweaty, it's like a first date, but slightly to the left. Rachel's as beautiful as ever, a little nervous, though, her hand fiddling with her dress. Bianca's still able to read Rachel well after all these years, but she still wonders why Rachel's nervous at all.

They get Chinese food, the kind that's really, really good, but only because Rachel knows where to go. She takes Bianca to a place that is almost achingly familiar, and the old Chinese lady behind the counter smiles at Rachel and Bianca. Her name's... Eleanor, some recess of Bianca's mind reminds her.

"You're back," she says, nodding at Bianca.

"I am," Bianca says, smiling back.

The food's great, and conversation ends up filling the air between Rachel and Bianca. They're still putting off the big conversation to come.

Never mind that. The food's great.

"I was thinking that maybe you'd like to help paint the new walls?" Rachel asks. "I'd like you to."

"I am altogether terrible at art, but I'd love to help."

Rachel smiles. "Also. Do you want to have dinner with Katie and Travis at some point? Their two kids will be there, but I think that you need to be re-introduced."

"Of course."

They're putting it off. Rachel knows. Bianca knows. Maybe it's because they don't want to have that conversation and all it entails. Maybe it's because Rachel doesn't want to break Bianca's heart again. But whatever it is, Bianca feels even worse by the time that they leave the restaurant and head back.

Or, well, they don't. Instead, Rachel takes Bianca to an oceanside boardwalk. It's late, and there are no stars, but the city lights are a good enough substitute. It smells like lavender.

"We, uh, need to talk about something," Rachel says.

"Yeah."

"Yeah."

The stagnancy hangs in the air. Unlike before, Bianca decides to do something about it.

"I'm still in love with you," she says, all out in a rush, like the words are spilling from the sky in fat rain droplets that come one after the other.

"Thank any and every god," Rachel breathes.

"Sorry?"

"I was about to say the same thing."

Bianca grins, and suddenly she can't stop laughing.

"Why did this take so long?"

"I don't know."

"I never should have left."

"Well, you can remedy that now."

"Really?"

"Just kiss me."

And so Bianca does. It's not perfect, but it's been years, and so it's as perfect as it could be.

«»

Bianca doesn’t stop smiling, even as she wakes up.

She slept late, and Rachel's already gone, an early commitment for her art. Just so she doesn't worry, there's a little note in Rachel's curvy handwriting on the bedside table. Hope it wasn't too jarring waking up. I'll be back around eleven for lunch! — Rachel (P.S. we probably still need to have a conversation, but I don't think the direction it goes will be a surprise.), it reads.

Bianca smiles at it, and the clock reads 9:36. She has an hour and a half before Rachel comes back, and she can't stop smiling.

Bianca doesn't usually eat breakfast, just a cup of coffee, and she decides to call Drew.

"Bianca?" Drew says, over the phone. "What's up?"

"Rachel and I talked," Bianca replies, trying to keep the childish giddiness out of her voice.

"Oh, great. How was it?"

"Great! We still need to have a bigger conversation about what we're doing now, but..."

Bianca can hear Drew smiling. "Great. I told you it'd happen."

"You were right."

"I'm always right, hon."

"Remember that time you lost two truths and a lie, badly?"

"Shut up. Congrats, though. Want me to tell your siblings?"

"No, that would be terrible. I'll tell them, I promise."

"Good. I'm having lunch with Valentina very soon, though, so I have to go, but you're telling me all the details later."

"Talk to you later."

"Absolutely."

The phone clicks off, and Bianca smiles. Maybe that's what Drew and her relationship will be reduced to now — short calls made to update each other on small things. Bianca can live with that. Bianca can live with a lot of things.

But it's around twelve thirty in New York right now — Drew has always liked late lunches — and Hazel and Nico are both bound to be busy, so Bianca holds off calling them.

It's odd. It's almost like a cycle. Bianca was born in Italy, but she soon came to New York, and then California for her law degree. Then she married Rachel and stayed here, until Nico's accident, in which she went back to New York.

And now she's in California. The two cities that could tell Bianca's life story are Los Angeles and New York City, in equal and opposite measures.

But Bianca wouldn't trade her life for anything, now.

And she needs to call Nico. Because he's her little brother, and no matter how upset she gets with him, and no matter how upset he gets with her, Nico is Bianca's only full sibling. That's not to say she isn't close with Hazel, but there are some things that Nico understands that Hazel cannot — like emigrating from Italy. Like the memories of their mother that Bianca finds comforting.

Bianca thinks Maria would've liked Rachel. She always has.

«»

Rachel comes home with flowers. Bianca’s favourite, lavender, and flowerless southernwood and blue salvia and baby’s breath to tie it all together.

“Figured I should get you flowers, too,” she says, smiling almost sheepishly, if Bianca tilts her head slightly and lets herself believe it.

Bianca takes the flowers and puts them into a vase. “I thought I was supposed to be the one to bring flowers.”

“Hey now, I can’t offer you that advantage. I also need to flaunt my wonderful taste in flowers.”

“Naturally,” Bianca replies. “Alternate weeks?”

“Alternate weeks,” Rachel agrees, then pauses. Bianca lets her take her time. “Speaking of, we’re… doing this?”

“Trying again?”

“Yeah.”

“We are,” Bianca says. “Or, I hope we are.”

“We are.”

“Promise I won’t leave again.”

“You better not.”

Bianca laughs, Rachel joining her, and she can smell the lavender.

[dujour13]

☆ placing shoulder kisses while they sleep for Siavash and Woljif? 🥺

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fluffy prompt list

---

He woke to the weight of a tail draped over his right shin and instantly his eyes sprang open.

Woljif.

Soft breathing, a glow of warmth close by his side.

He was really here. It wasn’t another daydream.

Woljif had accepted the invitation to come up to the Citadel that evening looking very sharp indeed in a silk shirt and black calfskin trousers, bearing a bottle whose intention was written as clear as Côtes d’Andoshen on the label: it was time. They’d danced around one another long enough.

His confession, so awkward and sincere, fully expected to fail yet with that little spark of unquenchable hope in those golden eyes—irresistible.

That trembling first kiss.

And now here he was, sleeping by his side, stretched out on his stomach with both arms folded under the pillow and curls spilling over his forehead.

Siavash felt his heart light up like the sun.

From the black rectangle of the small Citadel window and the burnt-out fire in the hearth he guessed it must be the small hours. Too dark to see more than the outline of his partner in crime. Eagerly he reached out and touched the candle on the nightstand, with a whispered word breathing a soft magic glow into the wax so that he could now admire the curve of his horn and the angle of his jaw, his clever arched brows, thick lashes and parted lips.

Lips he recalled the taste of and hungered for now more than ever.

He was too excited to fall back to sleep. He wanted to wake him and kiss him again, make love to him, sit up and talk and laugh, seize his hand and go out into the night city and roam the rooftops, or ride up to the ridge at the Court of the Lark and eat wild raspberries and tell stories sitting on the edge looking out over the Worldwound.

It was tempting. His hand hovered and pulled back.

Let him sleep.

Restlessly, Siavash propped himself with a pillow under his armpit. He couldn’t stop smiling.

It had been too long since he had someone to hold. Since he had this feeling like his heart could soar, a powerful fondness that made his arms ache and his stomach tickle like it was full of the Elysian butterflies that had begun flickering about him more and more often these days. Since he’d felt like himself.

I’ve done enough penance over Kristov. I’m ready. Right?

Lady Dreamer, you put him in my path just when I needed him. I promise I won’t mess this up this time.

The impulse overcame him. He leaned over and softly pressed his lips to the puckered hill of Woljif’s shoulder.

No response. I should let him sleep.

Gently he wriggled closer and placed another kiss farther up toward his neck. Woljif’s mouth closed and he breathed a sigh out through his nose, but did not awaken.

Another kiss farther up the slope of his neck. He brushed aside the curls to place another and another. Under the curve of his horn he could just reach an earlobe. He couldn’t resist slipping his fingers into the curls at his nape and massaging very lightly as he nibbled his ear. The sweet glow of arousal flared in his loins.

“Mmh,” Woljif sighed. His tail twitched and slithered over his leg.

Siavash snuggled even closer.

Eventually he became aware Woljif was awake and lying very still under a torrent of kisses and caresses.

“Sorry.” He drew back. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”

Woljif lifted his head and blinked one sleepy gold eye his way. “Yeah, right. Yes you did.”

“All right, I did.”

There was a long moment when Woljif seemed to be deciding how to handle this. Or trying to work out how such things were meant to be handled.

“Better get back to it, then. I’m still sleepy.”

Siavash laughed softly into his neck and got back to it.